“A Night at the Opera” (Pantoum)
I embraced this blissful intermission
as a way to separate myself
from the black and crackled heavy breath
and dirty shattered glass

As a way to separate myself,
I feathered into ash
and dirty shattered glass
that sliced and sparkled simultaneously.

I feathered into ash,
forced to swallow your words
that sliced and sparkled simultaneously;
ruining the red and raw within me.

Suffocating—a deafening crush received
from the black and crackled heavy breath
as sickeningly sweet as your eyes; anger, for
I embraced this blissful intermission.

Soapbox.

Lately I've had the really serious urge to write again, but as soon as I press pen to paper I get nervous and freak out and stop. I used to be so good and so prolific at my writing, and then I came to college and started hanging out with the most pretentious writing majors alive...it kinda ruined the art form for me. I keep thinking, "What would so-and-so think of this paragraph? He'd/She'd probably make fun of it." Why the fuck should I care? My brain is a very scary place. And like my dearest Kate said, "The writing department doesn't consider anything legitimate unless you're writing about your anorexia." Quote of the month, for sure.

My graduation is coming soon, and I've started taking inventory of the non-academic things I've learned at Susquehanna University. Such as:
-Girls suck. It doesn't matter if they're not the typical sorority bimbo. They will invariably cause drama and try to fuck each other's boyfriends/girlfriends.
-There is no point in keeping close friends because they will inevitably let you down.
-Trust very few people. Those you consider to be mentors and leaders will turn on you in a second.
-If you don't like drinking until you puke every night and having random sex with guys in madras shorts, don't enroll here.
-Gossip is rampant. Part of it is that this is a small school, the other part..well...see the 'girls suck' section.
-You cant claim you want to bring diversity here and then do nothing to bring about change. For instance, you want to be welcoming to transgendered people? Stop making only women's and men's bathrooms. You want more Muslims to come here? Make an accessible mosque and don't serve pork at every single meal. Want more black students? Don't make them feel like usable objects to parade around on the covers of admissions brochures and trips with President Lemons. Get it? Good.
-Stop letting every asshole with a high school diploma into this place. I want classes with smart, challenging students who are prepared and serious. I realize that it's college and everyone has different maturity levels, but c'mon man. You should hear the shit these people say in class.

And unlike other certain pissed-off figures on this campus *coughSimonaHillcough* I've actually done my part in trying to make this a better place. I'm well-known all over campus, especially with the important administrators and the President. I worked my ass off these past 3 years, and all it has done is make me more cynical and jaded. I can't wait to leave and never look back.

“An Aversion to Love Poems” or “Matthew” (Sestina)
If I ever wrote love poems,
Breaking away from the usual destruction and death;
To peel away my jaded, broken skin
Like that of a tremendous fruit,
I would recall, in verse, your heart within me
And your endearing tendency to fail.

The faith I have in you will never fail,
But like Persephone, your fate is that of tragic poems,
Of warm life and bitter, shallow death.
Oh! The way the tempting flora scented your skin,
And the everlasting sticky-sweetness of the seedy fruit.
As you ascend, I know you will bring your blue-skied joy to me.

The colors of the sunset mean nothing to me,
They pale in comparison, they undoubtedly fail.
Only the birth of your star brings me sighs like poems.
You mount your chariot, prouder than death
And like Apollo, your golden sphere warms my untouched skin
As you crest my horizon, pregnant with the glorious life-fruit.

Like a fantastically plump fruit,
I have trembled in your wind. Me,
Forever standing on the banks of your tumescent river without fail,
The coin on my tongue as sweet as poems,
Buys my way into the kingdom of death,
And the water of the river felt like tears against my skin.

And here I thought it fine to rest you against my skin;
To bloom from my bosom, to blossom like fruit.
The name “leda” had not meant anything to her, or me.
In aviary disguise you cannot fail.
But unlike Hera, my tie to you flows like poems,
And I will celebrate this gradual death.

But within passion and courage there is no death;
Only the sick hypnosis of your heartbeat on my skin.
In spring mornings I dream of savoring you like fruit,
And of the day you leave your island for me.
Your Artemis eyes tell me (with lies) that we will not fail,
But that our rhythm is the stuff of endless poems.

But words do die—like love, like me.
They grow tough like aged skin.
And because of that, I will never write love poems.

Da Future.

I've been having a bit of an existential crisis as of late.
For as long as I can remember, I've always been the girl who has known what she wants to do with her life. I had a ten year plan that involved law school, Washington D.C., Congress, and changing the world. But since last summer, those dreams have been quickly dwindling. It's terrifying...I've never been the 4.0 student, or the dancer, or the prom queen. But I've always been the driven one. The one that was going to make it big and make a difference. And then, I had nothing. Nothing to rely on. Nothing to give me hope while dying in small increments at Susquehanna HellHole.
Last night, however, I watched a History channel special on the Klan. It reminded me of my passion for civil rights and helping the underserved. I felt that fire in my belly again.
I did some googling of 'civil rights jobs' and found a plethora of careers and positions that made me excited for life again. Cody and I are hoping to move to Portland next summer, so I looked up civil rights resources in that area. Low and behold, Portland State University (go Vikings!) has a wonderful social work masters program, and a great women's studies certificate program. And if we live in Oregon for a year before I apply, I get to pay the in-state fee. And compared to Susquehanna, grad school tuition is chump change. With that degree, I could easily work at a women's shelter, a civil rights advocacy organization (ACLU, holla!), or even teach. It would be a career that I could exercise anywhere, and would allow me a broad range of employment opportunities. The degree would also give me an edge over other employment candidates. It would be a solid career that would give me a stable salary and good benefits. And greatest of all, I'd actually be making a difference in people's lives. It might not be on a federal scale, but honestly, Congressmen don't do anything positive for American people. It's a big, bureaucratic poopfest. But of course, I'm a liberal. So I think everything needs to be reformed.
Who knows...my career goals have shifted wildly from day-to-day as of late, so I'm a little scared that next week this line of thought will no longer be attractive. But this feels real. This feels solid. I feel good again.

Feeling like Edward Weston.