sliding into 23 like water down a drain
Thursday. 4.23.15 1:31 am
Warning: This entry is unusually upbeat. If you're having a bad day, don't read my entry, because it'll probably end up annoying you.
IS MY BIRTHDAY
In honor of my emergence from my mother's womb, twenty-three years ago today, I HAVE A VISITOR COMING TO SEE ME GUESS WHO IT IS IT'S MY...almost boyfriend (I'm dating a boy this time! ...It's weird)?
We're in negotiations but it's pretty much a for sure thing, at this point.
He's darling and wonderful and driving a ways just to spend the weekend with me.
In fact, I realized, today, that I'm doing okay, generally-speaking. I'm about to graduate college, I have some savings because of my second job, and I have this excellent, healthy, normal relationship forming with someone really freakin' cool...everything is kind of sorting itself out.
And yeah, that could change tomorrow, but at least I got a taste.
Graduation, by the way, is coming up. Oh gosh. I'm waiting for my class ring to come in the mail, but otherwise...I have the tickets, I've made reservations for brunch and dinner because my parents must be kept separate, much like bleach and ammonia-- Reservations for four! If everything goes according to plan (which it had better), it'll be me, my best friend, my pretty-much-boyfriend, and one parent per meal...which is nice and scary. Meeting the parents. Attending major events.
(If he ends up not being able to make it, the silver lining is that I can write an angst poem titled "Reservations for Four," which is still pretty cool.)
Luckily inhuman, who has not written here in forever and who also still hasn't read my message to her confessing the fact that I'm totally dating someone and it's totally serious kearjghwkjhg she's going to be taken aback and not sure how to feel--
Luckily inhuman is able to come to graduation and hang out a day beforehand, so we're going to hit the beach, eat, enjoy ourselves, and generally celebrate me having enough of my stuff together to, as they say, get graduated.
PLUS, I don't have classes for the next FOUR DAYS WOO HOO! THANKS, CONFERENCE IN KENTUCKY, FOR TAKING ALL MY SPANISH PROFESSORS!
I get to clean my room, get some stuff turned in early, and pick up some breakfast foods for Saturday and Sunday morning when I'll be enjoying the best weekend ever over some delicious, hopefully strawberry-topped pancakes and bacon, with my darling pumpkin pie of a man.
And then Monday, I'll turn in my final papers for one class, finish up the final paper for another, go ahead and try to complete my final for yet another...and then I'm chilling until one last scheduled exam.
AND THEN I'M CHILLING UNTIL I WALK ACROSS A STAGE AND OFFICIALLY BECOME AN ALUMNUS (other than my summer class which I had to take thanks to some stuff that went down but whatever it's online and American History...CHILLING).
So, to sum it up, when I get myself together, I really freaking get myself together.
small things (original password)
Thursday. 4.16.15 3:08 am
like flowers (triple password)
Thursday. 4.9.15 2:32 am
innocence and ice cream
Thursday. 3.26.15 9:37 pm
In my lit class, we're talking about the loss of innocence in a novel written in Spain (since calling it a Spanish novel tends to confuse--there's a difference between Spanish and hispanic, and this novel is both). Our professor tells us that we have to remember that the narrator was eleven at the start of the (Spanish Civil) war, and that her life is hard to conceptualize without having lived it.
When did the US go to war, again?
When we were...eleven?
Adults forget. I was in my fourth grade classroom, one desk away from the teacher's desk, when someone came to the classroom and told her to turn on the news.
And look, yes, wars these days are different, more isolated to those fighting it, but we do know financial instability. We know prejudice, we know insecurity. We've been at war almost as far back as I have memories, and it does change who we are; I've never known this country as a prosperous place of opportunities; I've known news reports on unemployment and my dad's tight expression as we talk financial aid.
But I digress.
Having left class, for the day, I walked down the main campus stretch and heard, oddly enough, an ice cream truck. They know we're a college campus, no ice cream trucks usually drive this way, so the music stopped my mind dead in its tracks for a few seconds, as I tried to process exactly what was going on. The juxtaposition of the representation of two very different lives--that from our respective childhoods, and that of our college selves--seemed to take everyone by surprise. I watched it dawn on several different people, and, on each of them, there was this strange, dreamlike expression on their faces--like when you hear the voice of someone you once loved across the room, after years of distance and healing. Their eyes were warm and seeing but not seeing, kind of...far off. An ice cream truck. Running for money to the sound of that incredibly stupid music, inflatable pools, sprinklers, the stable middle class! The security of ignorance that comes with youth.
It's strange to read about the loss of innocence, because it's something we've all experienced so recently, in so many different ways. Growing up is a strange and gradual sensation, although there are certain markers, throughout time, that will stand out as major "adult" challenges. We all talk about the novel like it's second-nature, because it's so close to what we know in our own lives, despite the fact that the novel is about a fourteen-year-old girl in 1930s Spain. It's oddly visceral.
An ice cream truck on campus, though. Such odd timing.
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