God. This morning kicked my ass...
I went to rugby practice last evening which was amazing. I love playing... it's a really good outlet for my frustration. I mean, where else am I encouraged to hit and tackle as hard as possible? Especially this week, with finals coming up and papers due. Everybody here is stressed out and not sleeping. Rugby lets me get away from all of this crap. I think, in my little Lilith Heaven, there's a spot reserved for team sports. Once I hit the field and start running and sweating and bleeding... it all goes away. Needless to say, at practice I played as hard as possible and was ecstatic afterwards.
But then, this morning, I decided to go to Boot Camp workout at the gym. Usually, I can take the workout, no questions asked. Except I guess I didn't realize how sore I was after practice yesterday till we started running stairs. Basically, running up and down flights of stairs with ankle weights on each leg for half an hour with 17 other workoutoholics. Then about an hour of 20 different muscle-failure workouts followed by six laps around the track. It's tough but I love the intensity of it. And yeah... I still pushed hard but now I'm really feeling it. My legs are soooorrrrreeeee.
Oh well. I have practice at 6am tomorrow though so I guess I'll just do some yoga tonight and loosen up my muscles. Ruck. Maul. Tackle... it's not rugby till there's bloodshed.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
NJ-7 is LIFE/LOVE/ALLTHATMATTERS
It's no big secret to anyone that I am in love with a little stretch of land known to insiders as NJ's Seventh Congressional District. It goes from the Raritan River to the Delaware River, horrizontal across New Jersey. It is Gerrymandered like there is no tomorrow. It is currently represented by a giant prick by the name of Rep. Mike Ferguson, a conservative Republican in moderate shoes. He is anti-choice, hideous on healthcare reform (which really is no big shocker since he's fully funded by the Pharmaceutical lobby), voted against SCHIP, voted for the war, refuses to fund the war he threw our troops into. Which is why it would seem like his 'retirement' this coming Election cycle would be fantastic. But... no. It's not.
I've worked on two consecutive races in the district...the 'o4 and '06 cycles. I want this so bad. But I know it comes down to a money game...especially early on. And the candidates the GOP are putting up for the nomination for their ticket are all good at raising lots and lots of money. Right now I'm really only worried about Kate Whitman and Leonard Lance. Whitman is the daughter of the former NJ Governor Christie Todd Whitman. Lance is the outgoing minority leader in the state senate. Both have a ton of money (and therefore votes) as well as a shitload of name recognition behind them.
Yeah ok so my candidate, Linda Stender, is a sitting assemblywoman and ran last cycle. She has some name recognition and a pretty sweet endorsement from EMILY's List. But... I'm just scared nonetheless. I want this so bad.
I think I just care too much. But that's ok. I'm in it to fucking win it.
That is all.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
on spending thanksgiving with relatives...
I really dislike my brother and stepbrother. I have done nothing wrong to them, yet they find it nessasary to attempt at every chance they get to marginalize me from the family unit. I know it's extremly petty to bitch and moan about two 16 year old boys and their antics but it's just so frusturating. Especially when it has begun to affect how I feel at family gatherings.
Spending time with my family is never easy for me. Let's just say that I never had what is called an 'easy childhood'. My father's glass was never filled with anything but vodka and my mother was never attentive enough to care. Holidays were spent with my father's family at their home in Englewood NJ, with me and my brother feeling like outcasts because we did not attend Yeshiva nor were we being raised in an Orthodox Jewish household. I think that was the worst. The entire family, children included, would participate in a perverse take on Trivial Pursuit, where mocking was encouraged if a question was answered incorrectly. It was never spoken but if you failed to answer a question correctly, your backside, arms and legs would be quite sore for days to come. Success became not something to strive for, but a nessasary sourse for remaining unscathed.
Maybe my brother and stepbrother are jelous. I started answering the questions right, thus escaping the worst of the blows delt for the crime of stupidity (but certainly not for physical perfection). I know I should have done more to protect them, but it's self-preservation at that point. And plus, I got to escape. I left on my sixteenth birthday and never really came back.
And now, I guess as retribution, every time I enter the room with either of them there, a snide remark is made. Knives (both literal and figurative) are thrown in my direction. And after a while, you just get tired of dodging and let one hit you in the jugular.
I know it's disgustingly cliche, but because all of this, I feel like I'm constantly lonely. Surrounded by people but just an empty shell. All I wanted to do tonight was scream and let everyone know how much I despise the obligatory family gatherings. They are such a farce. No one really can stand each other. At all.
Kind of nausiating to thing about it, really.
Spending time with my family is never easy for me. Let's just say that I never had what is called an 'easy childhood'. My father's glass was never filled with anything but vodka and my mother was never attentive enough to care. Holidays were spent with my father's family at their home in Englewood NJ, with me and my brother feeling like outcasts because we did not attend Yeshiva nor were we being raised in an Orthodox Jewish household. I think that was the worst. The entire family, children included, would participate in a perverse take on Trivial Pursuit, where mocking was encouraged if a question was answered incorrectly. It was never spoken but if you failed to answer a question correctly, your backside, arms and legs would be quite sore for days to come. Success became not something to strive for, but a nessasary sourse for remaining unscathed.
Maybe my brother and stepbrother are jelous. I started answering the questions right, thus escaping the worst of the blows delt for the crime of stupidity (but certainly not for physical perfection). I know I should have done more to protect them, but it's self-preservation at that point. And plus, I got to escape. I left on my sixteenth birthday and never really came back.
And now, I guess as retribution, every time I enter the room with either of them there, a snide remark is made. Knives (both literal and figurative) are thrown in my direction. And after a while, you just get tired of dodging and let one hit you in the jugular.
I know it's disgustingly cliche, but because all of this, I feel like I'm constantly lonely. Surrounded by people but just an empty shell. All I wanted to do tonight was scream and let everyone know how much I despise the obligatory family gatherings. They are such a farce. No one really can stand each other. At all.
Kind of nausiating to thing about it, really.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
makeout. put out. pass out. or GET OUT
Last night... oh man. Let's start with the pics. I actually was in a dress. Woot. I actually dont remember much of the evening. Except all of the liquor that was bought for that night is now gone. A handle of rum. A handle of vodka. A handle of whiskey. Hipnotiq. Beer. Tequila. All gone. I am just a big ball of drunken class. Lol.
I love my friends.
I also love how this morning I wake up to my cell vibrating at 8. It's George and he's right outside my dorm with a blunt. I'm still drunk but I go anyways. We smoke...I make out with him. I go back to bed.
I wake up at like noon with a giant blue penis drawn on my foot. I don't know how it got there and I don't really care. All I know is that I love my friends.
Because when it comes down to it.... that's all that matters.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
light pollution
Yesterday was a pretty good day. All together, entirely unproductive (aside from dusting the bookshelf and clearing the clutter off my desk), but fun nonetheless. I didn't intend to not work on my honours paper or revise my short story or read for philosophy... but I guess the glorious autumnal air decided it was not in the cards.
I ended up going to Starbucks with friends and discussing... everything ranging from the prevalence of spirituality in contemporary society to the potential effect of Norman Mailer's death on the 'serious novel'... for the better part of the afternoon. I really do appreciate days like that. Good conversation over coffee with two of the more genuine people I know can never be a bad thing.
The new garcon came over last evening. We were sending each other text messages all day, about the most random things and he said he wanted to see my cute face lol. He comes over and my roommate Ashley, her boyfriend, new boy and I end up taking a celebratory shot of vodka for Ash's 20th birthday. I think that kind of helped break the ice. As bad as it is to say, I think that helped me and new boy get more comfortable. It really was the first time he and I hung out alone and had a chance to get to know each other. He really is a nice person, very intelligent, planning on going to law school (as if that really matters). And he brought up the ex-girlfriend situation, which I thought was very risky of him. Turns out, he had been having some pretty intense second thoughts about seeing her and decided to break it off when he realized it wasn't working. That kind of put my mind at ease, I guess. I didn't want to be the reason he broke up with her. I'm not that girl, nor do I want to be. He asked me about Messiah formal which is this coming Saturday and wants to go with me. I think that will be fun, not only to go with him but to have a date. I don't mind just going with a bunch of friends but it is kind of awkward when we're taking pictures and dancing if everyone else has a boy with them. I know I don't need one, but it's like a new pair of shoes... just a nice thing to have.
Untitled
I ended up going to Starbucks with friends and discussing... everything ranging from the prevalence of spirituality in contemporary society to the potential effect of Norman Mailer's death on the 'serious novel'... for the better part of the afternoon. I really do appreciate days like that. Good conversation over coffee with two of the more genuine people I know can never be a bad thing.
The new garcon came over last evening. We were sending each other text messages all day, about the most random things and he said he wanted to see my cute face lol. He comes over and my roommate Ashley, her boyfriend, new boy and I end up taking a celebratory shot of vodka for Ash's 20th birthday. I think that kind of helped break the ice. As bad as it is to say, I think that helped me and new boy get more comfortable. It really was the first time he and I hung out alone and had a chance to get to know each other. He really is a nice person, very intelligent, planning on going to law school (as if that really matters). And he brought up the ex-girlfriend situation, which I thought was very risky of him. Turns out, he had been having some pretty intense second thoughts about seeing her and decided to break it off when he realized it wasn't working. That kind of put my mind at ease, I guess. I didn't want to be the reason he broke up with her. I'm not that girl, nor do I want to be. He asked me about Messiah formal which is this coming Saturday and wants to go with me. I think that will be fun, not only to go with him but to have a date. I don't mind just going with a bunch of friends but it is kind of awkward when we're taking pictures and dancing if everyone else has a boy with them. I know I don't need one, but it's like a new pair of shoes... just a nice thing to have.
Untitled
I stole the caution tape.
Obnoxiously yellow against the charred Earth,
its plastic body leaving behind a faint trail of droplets
as a rare reminder of my indiscretions.
or my need to amalgamate myself to your growing freedom.
Both unfinished
yet
here.
Transcending all we know
on our own construction site.
Self-contractors creating the illusion of a future.
There’s a hazard in our building
within the cracked brick and termite-laden brownstone.
Dark,
drop beyond the realms of consciousness.
The fear of falling into you
and collapsing into your hidden darkness.
___________________mpr.11.November.2007.____________________
Saturday, November 10, 2007
blow it off
I really don't want to be at Hood anymore, I decided. I know, college is what I make of it and the fact that I'm graduating in two semesters makes it not only pointless but also impossible to transfer anywhere... but it still sucks. I hate living with a roommate. I really do. I need to have my own space where I can write and concentrate and not have to worry about people who I'm not exactly fans of come into the room to chill with her. It's not fair for me to feel uncomfortable in a place that I am supposed to call home while I'm here. I've talked to the various Deans and the only way for me to get a single room for next semester is to have a physician submit documentation saying that I need one for medical reasons. That's not a problem, except it would require me going to the doctor which I'm not about to do because I don't feel like paying ridiculous amounts for what is really just an unnecessary expense.
And in class, aside from creative writing and women in politics, I feel like I'm wasting my time. It's really not a good thing that I don't need to study or even put in any effort on my papers to get high marks. I think the lowest I've gotten this year has been a 98%. It's just to damn easy. And one of my other polisci professors is really getting on my nerves. He's 74 years old, anti-feminist, hardcore Republican and anti-choice. I made the mistake of advocating Democratic principles in his class when he was ranting on how the only thing wrong with America is the Democratic Party. Now, any example he gives is negative towards the Clintons or the Kennedys. Best of all, he looks directly at me when he does it. I'm not going to take that, obviously, so I counter every example with an equal of the Republican Party, but it's not right. Class should be more than partisan bickering.
...........
Completely changing gears, I had the weirdest dream last night. From what I remember, it was Thanksgiving but we were eating sushi and drinking saki instead of the traditional stuff. But best of all, we were all speaking Greek. It was just really weird. I think it's just my intense cravings for uni sashimi coming out. And my trepidation over going home for Thanksgiving. My father and his wife just moved and I really want to spend the holiday with them and then do Friday night dinner with my mother, aunts and uncles. But when I stated my intentions to my mother she started crying, claiming abandonment. WHATEVER. I think she isn't ready to accept that I'm almost 20 and have been making decisions on my own for quite some time now, most of them being much more important than where I celebrate a holiday that praises the pillagers who destroyed the indigenous peoples. Yes, trading corn for measles. Sweet. Also though, I really want my cousin and his wife to come up but I doubt they will. They're both working on a campaign right now and things are really starting to heat up with that. I don't know. I saw them for maybe five minutes last year and I want them to be there this year when I break the news about the campaign I'm working on and the job offer to the family. They've never even acknowledged that I work in politics and just to see their reaction when I tell them that I am the communications director and head speech-writer for a top-tier congressional race would be priceless. I haven't even gotten my degree yet and I'm senior-staff. My cousin's wife isn't even senior-staff on the race they're working on. Hell yeah I intend to shock them and enjoy every single second of it.
And with the Greek, there's this guy I'm kind of interested in. He's Greek and I want HIM. He's really sweet. My one concern is that he just broke up with his girlfriend the day after he and I first hung out. I don't want to jump into anything either but if that's what he expects... I don't know.
We'll see what happens...
And in class, aside from creative writing and women in politics, I feel like I'm wasting my time. It's really not a good thing that I don't need to study or even put in any effort on my papers to get high marks. I think the lowest I've gotten this year has been a 98%. It's just to damn easy. And one of my other polisci professors is really getting on my nerves. He's 74 years old, anti-feminist, hardcore Republican and anti-choice. I made the mistake of advocating Democratic principles in his class when he was ranting on how the only thing wrong with America is the Democratic Party. Now, any example he gives is negative towards the Clintons or the Kennedys. Best of all, he looks directly at me when he does it. I'm not going to take that, obviously, so I counter every example with an equal of the Republican Party, but it's not right. Class should be more than partisan bickering.
...........
Completely changing gears, I had the weirdest dream last night. From what I remember, it was Thanksgiving but we were eating sushi and drinking saki instead of the traditional stuff. But best of all, we were all speaking Greek. It was just really weird. I think it's just my intense cravings for uni sashimi coming out. And my trepidation over going home for Thanksgiving. My father and his wife just moved and I really want to spend the holiday with them and then do Friday night dinner with my mother, aunts and uncles. But when I stated my intentions to my mother she started crying, claiming abandonment. WHATEVER. I think she isn't ready to accept that I'm almost 20 and have been making decisions on my own for quite some time now, most of them being much more important than where I celebrate a holiday that praises the pillagers who destroyed the indigenous peoples. Yes, trading corn for measles. Sweet. Also though, I really want my cousin and his wife to come up but I doubt they will. They're both working on a campaign right now and things are really starting to heat up with that. I don't know. I saw them for maybe five minutes last year and I want them to be there this year when I break the news about the campaign I'm working on and the job offer to the family. They've never even acknowledged that I work in politics and just to see their reaction when I tell them that I am the communications director and head speech-writer for a top-tier congressional race would be priceless. I haven't even gotten my degree yet and I'm senior-staff. My cousin's wife isn't even senior-staff on the race they're working on. Hell yeah I intend to shock them and enjoy every single second of it.
And with the Greek, there's this guy I'm kind of interested in. He's Greek and I want HIM. He's really sweet. My one concern is that he just broke up with his girlfriend the day after he and I first hung out. I don't want to jump into anything either but if that's what he expects... I don't know.
We'll see what happens...
Thursday, November 8, 2007
clarity within beauty
I met with my creative writing professor earlier today and we tried to rework "Accidental Conception". I guess I am somewhat ok with how it is now. But not so much. Anyways... here is where we are at right now.
Accidental Conception
Misery loves company.
Misery is crowding me.
Misery is holding a party
and I am the guest of honour.
See it and believe, you ugly bird.
We're covering my page with blood-red Crayola.
Does not come out.
Mummy's furniture has been used and stained.
Out through the glass, I see me cracking.
No matter,
let Fitzgerald pick up the pieces.
It is what we pay him for now, no?
My eyes, a vacant abyss,
delightfully absent from the scene.
Voices expelling carcinogenic
intentions, once meticulously concealed.
A mere
thought. Some secret, toxic knowledge-
a joke that amused them with its blatant perversity
and no one else.
Aside from the obvious peculiarities, they saw this.
Untyer.
Untyer.
I don't want to be.
Beautiful epic and I'm one less kid on Santa's lap.
With so much bloody rage, thank goodness it's the
holidays
and everything else is red.
Sin against conception.
Sin against an animal.
Sin against the truth.
Sin against a blade of grass.
It's all congruent at the table.
________mpr.8.november.2007.___________
I decided I really do like my creative writing professor. She really really REALLY understands where I am coming from as an author. She gets that I relish in the complexity of poetry and that I refuse to have my poetry read as just a paragraph with broken-up lines. But moreso, she appreciates that I take risks with my writing. No one has really ever told me that before and coming from someone I respect and admire, that means a lot. In a way though, I kind of miss my lit classes from last year. They made me THINK which is important. And that's the kind of writer I want to be. I want my poetry to be something you can read over and over and over and over but never get tired of it. I want you to have to stop and think after each reading. I want you to just acknowledge that I can write and that YOU basically encouraged that. I want you to sit and ask me why and how and tell me what you think.
I'm willing to take one on the chin, as long as I've got your attention
Accidental Conception
Misery loves company.
Misery is crowding me.
Misery is holding a party
and I am the guest of honour.
See it and believe, you ugly bird.
We're covering my page with blood-red Crayola.
Does not come out.
Mummy's furniture has been used and stained.
Out through the glass, I see me cracking.
No matter,
let Fitzgerald pick up the pieces.
It is what we pay him for now, no?
My eyes, a vacant abyss,
delightfully absent from the scene.
Voices expelling carcinogenic
intentions, once meticulously concealed.
A mere
thought. Some secret, toxic knowledge-
a joke that amused them with its blatant perversity
and no one else.
Aside from the obvious peculiarities, they saw this.
Untyer.
Untyer.
I don't want to be.
Beautiful epic and I'm one less kid on Santa's lap.
With so much bloody rage, thank goodness it's the
holidays
and everything else is red.
Sin against conception.
Sin against an animal.
Sin against the truth.
Sin against a blade of grass.
It's all congruent at the table.
________mpr.8.november.2007.___________
I decided I really do like my creative writing professor. She really really REALLY understands where I am coming from as an author. She gets that I relish in the complexity of poetry and that I refuse to have my poetry read as just a paragraph with broken-up lines. But moreso, she appreciates that I take risks with my writing. No one has really ever told me that before and coming from someone I respect and admire, that means a lot. In a way though, I kind of miss my lit classes from last year. They made me THINK which is important. And that's the kind of writer I want to be. I want my poetry to be something you can read over and over and over and over but never get tired of it. I want you to have to stop and think after each reading. I want you to just acknowledge that I can write and that YOU basically encouraged that. I want you to sit and ask me why and how and tell me what you think.
I'm willing to take one on the chin, as long as I've got your attention
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
crapcrakers and cheese
So my professor neglected to tell us at the beginning of the semester that we have to do a poetry recitation. Yeah. Not so much fun. I know I could do something simple with a rhyme scheme and such, like some Dickinson or Frost but I don't think I'm feeling that.
The first thing that came to mind was "Lady Lazarus" by Plath. I think I can get away with that. I don't want to do a safe poem. I know it's going to be Sexton, Plath or Ginsberg... just cuz that's the type of person I am. I want it to be something I can get away with. Something so intrinsically Lilith it jarrs you.
Whatever. I just need to get this done.
The first thing that came to mind was "Lady Lazarus" by Plath. I think I can get away with that. I don't want to do a safe poem. I know it's going to be Sexton, Plath or Ginsberg... just cuz that's the type of person I am. I want it to be something I can get away with. Something so intrinsically Lilith it jarrs you.
Whatever. I just need to get this done.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
one and two and three and four
Growing up less than 15 minutes from NYC for the better part of my life has, without a question, affected my personality. I walk fast; know how to order REAL sushi (not California rolls); drink black coffee; run for fun every morning; know that you can never be too rich or too thin. I'm ok with that. I guess I just never really thought about how my New Yorkerish comes off to everyone else. Like last night, I went to the mall with some friends and one suggested that we go into a store tailored towards plus-sized women. Now, I'm not trying to come off as being a size-OO or anything cuz I'm so clearly not, but I guess I never realized till then that my friends were bigger than I am. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a disgusting, fat slob but in the store last night, they didn't even carry my size cuz it's too small for them. I just don't get it. I mean, I come from a culture where looking like you've eaten at all over the past two weeks is a crime so to be shopping at a store which encourages women to dress what they have and continue to look the way they do just seems so wrong to me. And then my friends got really mad at me when I went into a dress shop and they realized they couldn't fit into anything there. I'm sorry guys if I wanted to see if they had a dress I've been looking at for Winter Formal and that going into the fatgirl store made me feel disgusting. I'm sorry if even though I have far from the perfect body, I still work to improve what I have and that makes me thinner than you. Maybe guys, I mean I love you to death and all, you should get up off your asses once and a while and hit the gym or something.
Messiah is coming up and I am really worried the dress I have isn't going to look right. I still need to drop another 15 or 20 by the 17th which is totally doable... it's just that, even then, I know my dress isn't going to look as good as it should. I just want to be perfect so bad. And if it takes dying to get there, so be it.
Messiah is coming up and I am really worried the dress I have isn't going to look right. I still need to drop another 15 or 20 by the 17th which is totally doable... it's just that, even then, I know my dress isn't going to look as good as it should. I just want to be perfect so bad. And if it takes dying to get there, so be it.
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