meringue, a poem

when making the first pie i ever made in my life,

i marveled at my apparent gift

from god to separate yolk and mucus-- the sac

slipped right off, lonely membranes dangling.

what were they reaching for?

the lemon curd was gloppy and elastic--

too yellow, it was too yellow

and i accidentally put double the vanilla extract

but it smelled so fresh and young, unlike

apple pie, which died in 1950, and pumpkin

which grandma served hot on the mayflower.

pharaohs used mincemeat as pyramid mortar

and pecan emerged in the devonian period

but eve still would have been as curious

if it were a lemon tree instead.

premium, a poem

her fingers pressed black buttons all day

but they were made for basket-weaving

bone cigarettes were best for alpha conversation

after menthol melted the universal solvent

her breasts were only a handful each

but they were filled with lemon cream

don't wanna give you up, don't wanna let you down

It's becoming harder and harder to accept retirement of this blog after 100 posts. I'm up to 91 or so and looking back, I'm really proud of some of the thoughts I worked through on she attacks. I went to Germany on this blog. I was diagnosed with Behcet's on this blog. On Tumblr, art can be achieved with two clicks. Writing is optional. It's too easy. Reblogging sucks out originality -- it's like my catholic school art class when one creative girl drew a fantastic igloo made of marshmellows and the three girls at her art table somehow came up with that same idea for their Winter Wonderland pictures GODDAMNIT YOU BITCHES THAT WAS MY MARSHMELLOW IGLOO.

And so that's why I'm hesitant about Tumblr. Maybe I can straddle both blogs at once and celebrate retirement at 200 posts or something. Or maybe I could get a job. NOPE HAHAHA GRAD SCHOOL LOOPHOLE.

"I do!"

Jury Duty

Today I got SUMMONED. It's one month before grad school starts. If the trial is a a week long, I could totally do it! Right? Is that how this works? Unlike Liz Lemon, I've always wanted to do jury duty.. Gosh I hope the case is bloody, corrupt or somehow involves auto-erotic asphyxiation.

I went to Philadelphia this weekend

and it was dazzling
with good music
and good company
and easy travels
but i lost all my photographs
(card not formatted)
and a tube of lip gloss

but on the bright side, the trolley to the train station came almost 40 minutes late at 5:03 and my train departure was 5:10 and the trolley went slowly through a stupid underground tunnel but sam knew where to get off (at 5:12) and he raced up the stairs while i pathetically dragged my bags behind him and we couldn't find the right gate but a nice girl told us (track nine!) out of the blue and i wanted to send her a gift basket in thanks.

i raced down the stairs and the train was already moving but a still-open door whizzed by and i ran after it, grabbed a metal bar and briskly whisked myself inside just as the glass door sighed shut.

i slammed against a wall and a little old lady waiting for the restroom said 'oh my! are you alright?' so i did a fist pump and happily bounced away.

The last days of Allegheny

I liked being around these people very much.

Alas

I think I'm too graphically inclined to keep this Blogger account when there are tumbles to tumble off in Tumblr land. Sad to say it, but this blog needs a retirement (and accompanying party, with cocktails for everyone). However, I never do anything half-assed and with 86 posts on "sheattacks," I couldn't possibly bail out with 100 on the horizon. I'll finish on good solid centurian number.

But until then, what has been happening? So far, the list below is half-fulfilled, happily. Most notably, loving harder and getting into graduate school: I was lucky to be granted a full ride to Newhouse at Syracuse University and pleasant admissions and monies to other wonderful schools. My parents are proud, I'm proud and feeling good like a cheesy Buble song.

The aformentioned blog retirement party was a joke, but absolutely influenced by an upcoming weekend I'll spend in Philly with an old flame and his talented writer friend, who is, in fact, throwing a blog retirement party. Maybe it's just our generation, but I am SO jumping on this bandwagon. Any excuse for drinks and bonhomie, ja?

Today I signed my lease on the graduate apartment. No way it, nor any apartment, could be as great as Xanadu was, but I have high hopes for some totally weird roommates. After Allegheny, normal people just piss me off.

Tumble with me, too.

HAPPY [[NEW]] YEAR!

'one, one, one one' goes my date ticker. how binary.

this year i hope to:

get into a great journalism school

graduate from allegheny college

leave overkill and actv in good hands

work super hard on my journalism comp

eat food michael pollan would want me to

get a car

cook more

save money

love harder

clean my room more

If I had a baby right now, I'd name it Holiday.

A lot changes in a year. Circa this time in 2009, I would've killed to tote the label "intern" at something, anything. I would've been packing to go on a big Canadian adventure with a very different man than the one I see now. Graduate school and life beyond college would have been shimmering lights in the distance, figments of imagination, or maybe just figs. I was just getting into Dragon Age: Origins although I too-quickly suppressed indications that life of utter geekdom in my parents' basement would be fully satisfactory. I had high hopes for the newspaper, Overkill, a signed lease for an apartment with my best friends and some film project a cute, accident-prone guy kept talking about, something about the world turning into a porn.

I sit in bed. The sheets are adult blue plaid now and I don't know where my yummy eggs and coffee sheets are. Probably rolled up in the attic. I should be smarter, wiser or something like that but my GRE scores don't reflect any such thing so I'm taking them again, on a Wednesday this time. I'm gandering at paid internships in cities with taller buildings than the Corning Tower. I'm drooling at J-school programs that guarantee packaged futures for a price.

I'm looking forward to seeing Black Swan in theatres and I hope Anne Hathaway gets the part of Lois Lane in the upcoming Superman. I wish Joss Whedon would just do Wonder Woman, costs be damned, because if anyone else does it, it'll be like Catwoman. I no longer like how I look in purple lipstick. The two people I like the most at school, non-romantically, are suddenly engaged and there are rings and wedding magazines where there were just incense sticks and dinosaur piñatas. I've learned to clean my hair out of the shower drain.

I don't question that I still want to be a journalist, but I do wonder why. I've wondered at this motivation a lot lately, probably because graduate schools want to know too. I do love to write and I do want to help people. I don't mind a small salary. I do want to talk to new people every day. I'm good at some other things but they seem too self-serving. I do see ways to be creative and innovative and I see opportunities to lead. But as much as I want people to say, she's driven, career-oriented and well on her way, I also want people to say she's insane, unpredictable and we have no idea what she'll end up doing. Sometimes I want to reject a clear path and sometimes I have a craving for sushi.

Next Year Might Be A Hungry Year

I'm amidst applying to J-Schools. The application gods ask painfully broad questions like, how is journalism an integral part of U.S. democracy? I stumbled upon a screen writing application and one of the questions was like, OK --two people are in an elevator -- one's a Muslim, one's a Christian. The elevator breaks down. Write a two minute dialogue, GO! And I did that instead of working on my applications.

and we made bruschetta together on a sunday.

sign in, sign out

glasses slid down his nose, which was not crooked at all

as he wrote poetry instead of graduate school essays

blood mixed with jelly tears trickled down to the belly button area

nonsensical, because we don't need high fructose corn syrup

but we do need botanical gardens

It's thunderstormin'

Investigative Journalism

Video Production

Civil War Literature

Environmental Science

Advanced Workshop in Nonfiction

It's all quite interesting. Even the Civil War. Five classes plus the newspaper, Overkill, sorority, ACTV, Grounds for Change, a boyfriend and a kitty. Dyed my hair black for fall. I have some classmates who are getting married. I know one guy who has a baby. That's weird. My eyes hurt sometimes. My left eyelid has begun to droop (evident in this picture) and I think I might turn into a old woman with an asymmetrical face. That's okay, I think it makes my face more interesting, but I will certainly never be a news anchor now. They like their news anchors symmetrical on NBC. I really like the new journalism professor from the L.A. Times; she's inspiring. Maggie's teaching me to cook with olive oil. I eat cheesy puffs when I'm tired and drink coffee when I'm awake. Sometimes a cigarette. I feel fine, brother, I feel fine.

Daddy

As I grow into an excited adulthood full of responsibility and pressure, high hopes and potential, he grows out of his. As I speed up, he slows down. I always strove to match his fast pace. Now I feel like I zoomed past him too fast, and it feels like free falling.