My Italian Teacher

scared the shit out of me.

Old Tomes

Just found some stuff in this spiral I used to love. I wanted it to be that special spiral. But unfortunately I picked one of the normal school ones that only last about four months before they start to rip apart. It's pretty much dying now.
But sometimes coming back to things, it's like seeing them newly. And I forget what I was like. Am I still like that?
Well something that sounded nice:

"listening to the sweet somber blue of the song picking the dust off my stale memories
I want to wrap the cool wind around me like a feather down comforter, I can feel the depth in the ruffling calm and I feel safe to my bones, which stop rattling in the dry brittle air"

My door is open.
...oooohhh it smells like fall.

Walk Through I Walk Do I Walk

Yesterday I took a walk for what felt like the first time in years. It sounds stupid and cliche, but I didn't realize how long it had been. Or more like I had forgotten that I used to take walks, all the time actually. I used to take off my shoes and walk barefoot, up our driveway, across the street (it hurt a little after it was repaved) and down the sidewalk. I remember the part of the sidewalk that was cracked and had some sort of weird sludge dried on it from the drainage leaking out of someone's lawn. And how sometimes I would step on pieces of the asphalt from the street, but it only really hurt when it was on your heel. I remember the place where the sidewalk stops abruptly, at the top of the hill, I guess because there's a fire hydrant or something. And the limestone. Like a tiny cliff. Remembering how this place didn't used to be enormous houses and manicured lawns you can't even roll in because of all the chemicals they use to make them green.

But my point here isn't making some environmental statement.

I took a walk and just let myself think, and I touched some plants, saw a cat and petted it. It's funny how you can just do that, walk up to a cat and pet it, and it just purrs and closes its eyes into little slits. It accepts the love of anyone who comes by, lets them give what they want to give and then lets them go.

I kept walking and ended up at a park, this one specific park I used to go to all the time last year especially when I was upset. I haven't really been there in a while. There were people with their kids running around and playing. Of course, because it's a park. I went on the swings. I love swings. And there's something so comforting about them. Maybe, I think, it's because they remind you of that feeling of rocking, your mom holding you in a rocking chair and holding you tight. How when you're little, and your mom is holding you, everything is still, silent, good, safe.
But I go on the swings a lot. Any time I can. It's strange too, that even though they are comforting, they still have this edge of danger, like when I close my eyes and suddenly feel like I'll never stop falling. It happens sometimes even when my eyes are open, when I look behind me. Maybe I have a general fear of things rushing away from me. The ground, the sky, people.

So I sat on the swings and went back and forth. For a long time. I think it helps thinking. I thought about all the different times I had been to this park, and how this place really didn't mean anything at all. You being there makes it mean something. One of the first times I was in the park was with my sister, just laying in the grass, in the sun. Silent, still, safe. The air was a little cold. When you stand up, you have grass on your back and in your hair.
A lot of times I came there and sat on the swings and thought and cried. I thought my way through my life and my existence and the present and I felt better.

I started thinking about things that had happened. And realized, who's to say these things happened? They're just in my head. there's nothing holding onto them except me. If I forgot, they wouldn't exist. But should I always remember? Is it okay for things to fade? It leaves questions. Holes. Then you have to fill them in later again. I don't want to be just constantly re-realizing. I want to build upon myself and my time, climb and build. Construct. But not plan. Just sketches. I guess for now I can use what I still have to remember. Re-member. To member again. Am I membering now? And then later add re-?

But I wonder. Am I still the same person? Is everyone? If only I could remember.

Voyeurism

I feel like there might be an episode of Gilmore Girls unfolding at the table next to me. Brings back memories.

"I just want to smell you."

Have you ever caught yourself enjoying the smell of something that really, you shouldn't like at all? But for some reason you can't stop smelling it? I've definitely heard some people say that they like the smell of skunks. It's like that. But it can happen with anything. I guess it's different for different people. It's so secret, though. I bet that some people never tell anyone about their secret love for the smell of fresh urine. I bet most people don't even tell themselves that.
Something to think about.
Anyway, it seems that smell has become a prominent subject in my life at present. Strangely enough, smell-related incidents and comments have been flying left and right these past few weeks. Like a monthly catchphrase. But it's a sense.
Smelling is actually very nice. I remember reading in a psychology magazine that smell is the most powerful sense, and can have a very real impact on your psychological state. It sucks that as humans our sense of smell isn't so great. Sometimes I envy blind people, who, they say, have a heightened sense of smell to compensate for the loss of vision.
But just imagine dogs. They must perceive the world so differently. Maybe to the point that instead of "seeing" the world, they smell it. And they use that "smell image" to navigate through space and time. Smell-ship.
I mean, I don't mind vision so much. I love colors. And light. Light can change everything. I think my favorite is yellow light. Natural yellow, though, like the light in the park that comes through the leaves of trees. Yeah, sight is pretty awesome. I remember reading an article that was about people who were blind from birth who got surgery to give them sight. These people couldn't navigate the world, because they couldn't distinguish depth from all the blobs of color they saw.
I wonder what that's like. Deconstructing vision, taking away interpretation, until it's just a flat plane of color and shape. Brains are funny things.

I Really Only Believe What I Have to Say

It always seemed to be a good thing to try and understand other people's perspectives on everything that happens. Like, you're always supposed to think about the other side and consider their opinion along with your own. I guess the intended effect of this is that everyone makes logical decisions while keeping in mind everyone else's thoughts.
But, I can't help feeling lately that even when you do understand someone else's perspective, and take it into account along with your own, what can you do about that? You're probably nine times out of ten not going to change your mind in their favor just because you realized the reasoning behind their choices. Is it just the awareness that counts? If so, who really cares? What good is it to anyone to say "Oh, I considered your opinion, and I understand it but I'm still choosing me every time"?
I guess the most you could hope for is for people to be more sympathetic, and not get angry when an idea opposes their own. Even though they may not turn around and stand behind it, they won't be actively attacking it, I suppose. Tolerance, maybe.
But doesn't that just sound unremarkable and insufficient? The human race, yeah, they tolerate each other. That sort of sucks.
But maybe that's all we can manage.

Ode To the South Mall

I booked a ticket to Germany today.
Oh my.

It's ridiculous how excited I am. I've been tearing up all day today for no reason.

When I was lying on the quad outside between classes, I realized a couple of things. Here I will bestow on you the infinite wisdom of the quad-revelations.
One, when I was thinking about how I really just wanted to leave and fly away and go to Europe and be in all these different cities (I picture myself walking through streets alone, looking vaguely wistful and a bit awed) rather than be here, sitting on a grassy quad in Austin, Texas, where I've been practically my whole life. How my life would basically start again from page one. Or so it would seem in my brain. I started to feel sort of bitter about the whole societal dictate that everyone needs to go to college to be successful when I really thought about it and the fragile networks of friends, familiar places, and emotions that I have set up here. That has been nineteen years in the making. And suddenly I felt like maybe it was a good thing to be in college. I don't think a lot of people at my age could handle their life suddenly being a blank slate, including me. Although I might complain, I still need to use a booster seat (thanks guys) or I won't be able to reach the table. And we all know how scary being under the table is. Everything is alien, all legs and feet and floor. Hmmm...

Two, when I was lying on the ground, I had one of those special nature moments when I was looking at the grass and thinking about the ground underneath it and the shape of the earth. Then I watched the people walking by and wondered how long it had been since they'd looked at the world from ground level. How often do I even lie down and look at things between blades of grass? I sometimes forget that you can do that I guess. Me, who is supposedly all about different perspectives.... But I've never liked self-imposed labels. They're not tasteful. Or classy.