October is my Favorite Month!

I found out today that Bethany got a head-start on Christmas tradition this Halloween weekend. She went to a bar with her boyfriend and ordered some kind of peppermint schnapps beverage. Basically, junior mints with alcohol. A bit early in the season, but, upon hearing this, I was/am envious. We settled the issue, deciding to go back to the bar over Christmas break, bringing our own boxes of junior mints and toothpicks--makeshift martini garnishes galore. Our scheme ended with us dressing up as elves and bringing a team of Decepticons. We’ll get free drinks this way, you see.

Besides envying Bethany's alcoholic excursion, I'm having a good Halloween weekend. I planned on dressing up as a vegan storm trooper (a storm trooper costume with a t-shirt that says "I'm a vegan") on Friday night, which didn't happen. I also planned on having a lovely evening with my friends Thursday night, which did happen, but somehow, I ended up fashioning an improvised Carebear costume. I wore a hot pink tutu, a head band with colorful + fuzzy bear ears, and a red lip liner heart sketched on my nose. Why did I dress like this, you ask? The options were: dress up as Dr. Seuss's Thing 1 or a hot pink Carebear. No further options existed.

As Bridget drew the heart on my nose, I recalled what it was like to live with her.

Bridget: Stand still; I'm going to draw a heart on your nose. Stop laughing. Nothing about this is funny.
(Before I could protest the drawing, she was basically finished.)
Me: It's impossible to feel in control over what happens to my body. And you know, what’s weird is that there is no force involved, but there’s always a subtle sense that something terrible may happen if I don’t comply. Kind of like subtle government policies.

Last night was fun too; beers and Silence of the Lambs. Joe + I also went on a small hike at Sycamore Trails (which has beautiful trails, copious color-changing trees, open fields, a duck pond, a tire swing!—right around the corner from a Wendy’s, ha.), and we decided it would be wonderful to be ducks.

In unrelated news, and I’ve been saying this for a bit, but I really, truly want to be a part of UD’s improv team. Think what you want about the quirky folk who are involved with improv; I just think it would be good for me. I haven’t been involved in ANYTHING the entire time I’ve attended college and this is probably my last chance. I also think it would be really good for me to step out of my introverted (chocolate-covered) shell; I used to be more outwardly goofy. So, as of right now, I’m working on a monologue. Results soon to come (and may vary).

I’m tired always. I miss the days when I didn’t care about school. Homework. THE BANALITY OF MY LIFE IS UNBEARABLE. Just kidding. That outburst was avoidable, but comical. At least in my head.

By the way: I’m desperately seeking identical twins for an envious friendship. Spread the word.

Off to bake banana bread.

i will never be an adult.

This is the kind of mood I am in, currently. I don't feel like thinking, unless it is about dancing panda bears. I go through phases where I believe I am supposed to be doing responsible things twenty fours hours per day. That is an unbelievable amount of time, in case you were wondering. During these phases (which usually last weeks), I feel like punching anyone who is having fun and/or not thinking about how to effectively dismantle patriarchy. [By the way: trying to be responsible twenty four hours a day ends up being counterproductive. I end up procrastinating, which puts me in a hole of shame.] At the end of these periods, I break down, and I need to watch panda bears. I also end up needing to hide my phone, bank account numbers, non-fiction books, and post-it notes. Taking a nap even sounds painful. It sounds like I may wake up in a panic.

I'm afraid to act my age. I'm young. I can't be on top of the world. I can try to, but, it isn't worth it. I can bake banana bread and draw cartoons about cannibalistic farm animals and still get a good grade in my colonial + postcolonial literature course.

Here's to not going crazy before I graduate.

kulutoyourlulu

Like I mentioned in the last post, no one will read this, except for my sister, Elizabeth Ashley. So, I think, for this one, I will be writing directly to you.

Hi Sister. It's been awhile since we've really talked, so I'll let you know what's going on. Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing here; I don't have much time left in school, so it's fine, but it just so far from home. I don't even really have a home here. My roommates are obnoxious, and I feel like I can never be in the house. I can't wait to move into my cottage. A lot of days I wish I could get up and meet you in the middle of the Boulders' and look into Sylvia's mailbox to find out her last name. We both weren't really happy with our current situations at the time, but living near sister was probably the best time of my life. I hope we can live near each other again when we're old; we'll have barbecues and potluck dinners. But the potluck dinners will only be among ourselves.

I think that a lot of what I do is trying to be your sister. Or something like that. I don't have qualities from Mom and Dad, really. I think I got my characteristics, interests, and quirks from you. Either that, or I'm just the little sister who tried so hard to be like big sister. And now I just am like you. You minus two. Or three.

Anyway. Other than that, things are going well. New house soon, new classes I like. Making new friends. 21st birthday soon!!! Things are getting better! I'm glad things in your life are good too!

I hope you and Geraldine will be able to find time to come visit me at my new cottage. I will build you a fort to sleep in.

Ps. I just ate two donuts.

You ate a burger. Sisters.

love,
kulu

DOUBLE PS. Check yr mailbox soon.

nostalgia for the internets

"And whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, incommunicable past."
-Willa Cather, "My Antonia"

My sister will be happy when she notices a new blog post from me. I forgot that I like blogging (and turning nouns into verbs, obviously). I've been back at UD for a while, just as a quick update. Almost a year, in fact. I'm just as shocked as you are. Cabin fever strikes me after a few weeks with no sudden changes in my schedule. But, changing my major helps! I'm sticking with women & gender studies, with a side of psychology, though. I have a very concrete graduation plan, and I'd like to actually keep it.

The last post in here was very emo, I see. And I feel like everything since then has been a complete whirlwind of events. I don't stop anymore. I did a complete 180 of just vegging all the time to never being able to sit still and not taking care of myself, as a result. There's a balance out there somewhere, I know it! There has to be middle ground between severely depressed and radically happy, too.

I'm trying to do what I can. When I went home for Spring break, I visited with my friend Sarah in Amherst, and she's had a fairly similar college/turning into an adult experience as I have. I remember saying to her:
"Doesn't it seem like we missed something along the way? It looks like some of our friends are enjoying their time in college, right?"
And she responded: "You mean all of them? Yes."

My sister and I are going to mental institutions when we separate.

And Joseph and I charge directly at each other on sidewalks to release our ridiculous energy.

The UD population is crazy, though not with that good-crazy-connotation. It's the I-don't-like-it-crazy.

In other news, we're reading LOTR in my lit&environment class!
Also, I'm working on staff for a mental health festival--celebrating mental health through arts and music. I'm on the committee for bands and also for puppies.

That's it. Bye.

An Aspiration Can Be Grilled Cheese

Disclaimer:
Emo.

Sometime last week, I was driving on 116 in bumper to bumper traffic, after having stopped at Subway to grab a sandwich and a bag of BBQ chips. I was really hungry, so, unfortunately, I was eating the sandwich while driving in this traffic.

In between bites, the car in front of me slowed to a stop, and I hit him dead on. Awesome. So, we pull over to the side of the road. He gets out first. His hair is extremely gelled and blond and he's wearing an expensive looking rugby tee. So my thoughts are racing hysterically. "Oh fuck. He has a rich dad. This will suck."

I apologized for hitting his car, saying I wasn't paying attention and that I'm very stupid. Pleading stupidity? Sure. He didn't find any marks on the car, though. I mean, that's what bumpers are for. Duh.

"So, I can't find any marks on my car. Is your car okay?" He asked, kind of glaring. I look at the front of my car.
"I mean, it doesn't really matter. I'm at fault."
"Yeah. Well, do you want to exchange information anyway? Just in case?"

I panicked. Why should we exchange information? He's just going to call his rich father and scheme ways to charge me for absolutely NOTHING. All of this panicking occurred in a period of about 0.89 seconds, though. I'm quick on my toes.

I said: "Um, do you want a bag of chips?"
He paused, "What flavor?"
"Barbecue."
"Yes."

And he let me go with a smile. My life is an indie movie. My dad thought the story was funny up until the point when I suggested heading to BJs and stocking up on BBQ chips in bulk.

In related news, I need to slow my brain down.

---------------------------------

a newscaster loses it on live TV
starts screaming "fuck" over
and over again
head in hands
"we're all going to die alone"
her wedding ring glistening
in the middle of a report on
adopting kittens
and the closing of a kill
shelter
in one of the boroughs
then she says "trust me"
and walks off the set

----------------------

i dream we race each other home
progress documented by cell phone
but i don't live there anymore
your heart
hours hover over me as the glacier
collapses
into the sea
home: safe

----------------------

there was a lullaby between my
ears
between the hours of 2 am
and 4
sam beam: he sets me to sleep
and i can't believe
how much i drooled!

Are You Thinking About the Llamas?

Yes, Liz. Of course I'm thinking about the llamas. What else could I possibly think of while staring down an overpriced package of gummy worms?

I'm a vegetarian. So, that's the end of that.

Anyway.

I haven't written on here for a while for three reasons. Number one: the only people who read this are Liz and Nicole, and I see them basically every day. Second: my life is very weird and hard to describe. (The snipit above is an excellent example of the oddities that continually make up my life.) So, sometimes I start a post and never finish it. And lastly, I haven't written for a while because Twilight has been taking up a lot of my time.

Speaking of which, Twilight has given me extremely unrealistic expectations in men. So much so that I decided to give it a go with a very pretentious boy from my more recent past, and it completely exploded in my face, leaving me slightly dumbfounded. Stephanie Meyer, I hope you're happy.

Other than that, to catch you up, just in case you're not Liz or Nicole, since I've moved to Amherst, my life has been made up of listening to "Bossy Blondie" religiously in order to boost my inner bossy, overdosing on double caramel lattes, running up and down the halls of my old UMass dorm with Liv, pretending to be in the desert, vegan cookies, getting extra holes stabbed into my nose, Packard's trivia night with a side of large spicy fries, making audition tapes for The Real World and friendship bracelets, legs falling out of sockets after 30 minute hikes, Miranda teaching us how to fix legs popped out of sockets, running into Newbury Comics at the sight of new Edward Cullen t-shirts, fangirling, taking my pants off at bowling alleys, and constantly pulling Liz away from moving traffic.

Needless to say, I suppose I've been busy doing a whole lot of nothing. Which is my favorite thing in the world. Nothing. Honestly, I used to think that since I loved doing nothing so much, it meant that I'm considerably emo. But, oh, no, my friend. I am not. I have my emo moments--as do many of us--however, my number one hobby of absolutely nothing does not count toward my emo status. Perhaps rolling around on the floor with my very expensive camera, taking pictures of myself and my hipster friends posed with vegan cookies--maybe that's emo.
But, sitting by myself in my room on a perfectly sunny, warm afternoon, drawing pictures for my friends, simultaneously listening to Bright Eyes and watching Planet Earth--a whole lot of nothing--not emo, my friends. Nope.

I'm not sure how this entry turned into my definition of emo. I'm also not sure if I'm trying to convince myself more than you guys. Probably. And I suppose I'm thinking about an article Liz showed me last night from PopMatters, called "Manufacturing Loneliness"--it was kind of about how the immediacy of technology can, in turn, make you feel more lonely since you have the means to contact all of your friends at all times. It was interesting.

I hate contacting my friends at all times. It makes me feel needy.

I'm a boss, guys.

Anyway.
I'm really enjoying the organization and train of thought involved in this post.

So, it's 1 PM, I'm up early, and I'm off to start a new day. I have an essay to finish. Starbucks, watch out, here I come!

I Wish You Couldn't Figure Me Out

"All I know is that you're so nice,
You're the nicest thing I've seen.
I wish that we could give it a go,
See if we could be something."



So, the other day, I had a marvelous dream, and I must share it:
(fuzzy flashback effects)
I was in a room with my friend Peter, just chatting about nonsensical items. When, his ex-girlfriend, who I had never met before, literally crawls into the room, and begins to speak to me. Just me. ( Now, just for the record, in actuality, Peter is gay, so literally everything about this dream is quite silly.) Peter's facial expressions turn to sadness, silently insinuating what would come of this. What was she trying to do?! Finally, Peter's ex girlfriend cuts to the chase, as blunt as can be, and asks me out. She wanted me to be her girlfriend! And, now, here's the catch: Peter's ex-girlfriend is a guinea pig. "Oh? Wow. I don't know. I've never dated a girl before...". Needless to say, I was a little unsure and shy to the idea of dating a woman...guinea pig. At which point, the nameless rodent pulls out a giant flow chart from SOMEWHERE (I have no idea where it came from), a chart bigger than she is, and begins to show and explain to me why I should date her and/or become bisexual. I think I gave in. A guinea pig was my first girlfriend.

Then I woke up. Thoughts? I think it means I should get a new pet for my room. FISHES. HAMSTER. Maybe even a guinea pig?! Squeak!

Anyway. That's about it. I've been reading more of "To Be Real"...learning about feminism and such! I'm going to buy more books on the topic written by the same and similar women; I think it's better for my brain than the pompous jerks I usually read and obsess over.

I went for a hike at Mt. Holyoke today with my sister. I need to purchase boots before I ever go hiking again. Not a good idea to climb a mountain in the snow in sneakers. My leg felt like it came out of the socket. Probably because I was dressed like I was in the hipster Olympics... Who knew. But, you know, I enjoyed nature, as I always do.





On a similar and equally exciting note, I found the Smith waterfall without trying. I am proud. The entire time that I was staring at it, I was wishing I had as much freedom as my bud Augusten Burroughs--enough freedom to jump into it. Does want.





Tomorrow I have many job apps to hand in and fill out. Amherst Books basically said I have a job with them for two weeks as a cashier for when all of the kiddies return back for school! Just need to hand in a resume. I wish I could work there permanently. Books always. Wah. Anyway. It's about 1:00am, which means it's time for me to watch instant netflix in my bed, by myself until I fall alseep. Yay.