it's because i burned the linoleum that one time

so here's the thing. coldplay? i like them alright i guess. my favorite song by them is one off of an ancient ep. sometimes when listen to parachutes i start to veer off the road. a rush of blood to the head was better, but there were some issues. it's definitely the feeling like they're trying to have an actual coldplay sound beyond just chris martin's vocals. sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't, often several times in the middle of songs. but here's the thing: their new album is coming out in a week and i bought the first single yesterday, and i think they're getting it right really. maybe. i'm not really sure what to think. there is a coldplay problem just like there's a white stripes problem, or a travis problem. and another problem we're not going to discuss for fear of being stoned to death. seriously.

i guess i mean, i'd appreciate any thoughts.

also? what the hell is in the water supply in iceland? there is some seriously crazy but good shit going down up there. bjork? right. no need to say anything else about that. sigur ros? wow. but still, what? okay. and now mum, who i've heard before but have just recently become liking quite a bit. especially at night.

and here's something else: ovaltine. i think they need to change their advertising to, ovaltine! the only reason catherine loya is still alive. first of all, i highly recommend the chocolate malt flavor. secondly, it's like healthy quik. there's about a billion vitamins in it, and that's just by itself, before the milk. and it's especially good in the morning. and so instant! check it out, dudes. really.

see, i have this problem with eating meals. it takes me a long time, sometimes, to figure out what i really want, what i'm really hungry for. because i know if i eat something i'm not really hungry for, you know, if i'm just eating to eat, then i'll just eat more later and i'll be unsatisfied, and then i'll get a stomachache because i've somehow managed to have pasta and a banana and yogurt and a cookie all within the span of twenty minutes, when all i really wanted was tacos.

the other thing that's important to mention here is that i rarely, if ever, like to have just one thing for dinner. i mean, just chicken is no good, i really want to have chicken and potatoes and/or beans. just a salad is no good, because first of all salads are for lunchtime or pre- or post-dinner fare. just eggs aren't any good, where's the bacon? you see where this is going. so there's some added stress there as well. i don't even like just having a sandwich for lunch--it has to be a sandwich and chips--and definitely not a sandwich for dinner.

it sounds like i'm picky, and i am picky, but the rules change all around when i'm a guest. i really enjoy being a guest for dinner, especially to see how and what other people like to cook. it's always helpful, and so generous.

the rest of the time i live alone, so of course i get to make whatever i want however i want it. and going out these days is easy, because that's what a menu is for. copy?

now i have to clean. with some lye. no, really.

keep your eyes open long enough to post, please

there is this desire to write something good and true, here, even on this so broad of an internet, but i have a feeling that will fail me at the moment. i am too tired, and sort of too full of goodness and trueness. and how's that, then.

this class i have been taking, it put something.....well, maybe woke something up inside me i haven't felt in a long, long time. or at least, consciously or visibly, or, well. and made me clarify something i've been feeling: this idea of who to serve, and who to love even, if you can believe that. trust me on this one.

so that is what i'm full of right now, and so tired! so any wish to describe those things in any meaningful or clear way i think may be lost in the execution, but there it is, and all the same and without a doubt. and, now, what else? not too much, except the thank you, God. just thank you. i would save it for my own, locked up tight and never seen only by me journal, but, okay.

also, the concoction was called "the tropical storm"

hey you guys, i'm in the middle of a battle right now so i shouldn't really be writing this at the moment, but hell, that's what the pause button is for, am i right?

i am such a dork.

anyway, today was totally awesome, and i'm going to tell you why. i have discovered two things: 1) my professors might've been completely high this morning and 2) aladdin's.

the reasons my professors had maybe smoked up a little before coming to our final trial at court today are really quite simple: they both started talking to me, at the same exact time, about the possibility of me working for each of them. then, they fought about it. then, they formed some sort of instant law professor superteam union and asked me to work for them as a unit. it was pretty awesome. i have to admit. that might've made my day.

there were some other things that happened during the trial that were pretty awesome, but they are very boring really and involve a lot of law stuff. i'll keep that to myself then, but i will say this: striking something from the record after objecting and winning that objection after successfully arguing it in front of the judge? totally fucking awesome. trust me on this one.

now: aladdin's. today was the second time i've had their tasty cuisine, and let me tell you something people. where have i been? there are a number of things that make this place incredible, and i will now present them to you in a list:

1) they have anchor steam beer, and the beer, my friends, is colder than you can even imagine
2) their menu is approximately twelve pages long
3) authentic, homemade hummus? tasty!
4) jasmine's rice, dudes. seriously.
5) the most delicious fruity, yogurty, honey...uh....honeyed? concoction i have ever tasted
6) lamby-lamb, and wraps, and spinach, and feta, and....
7) tahini on the lamb!
8) tahini on the rice!
9) tahini on my face!
10) no smoking anywhere, even outside

not that i have anything against the smokysmokers. i have a great empathy and slight envy of them. but at restaurants, no no. unless we're talking eat 'n park and the like. though i suppose i always thought of the smokes as something to be thoroughly enjoyed as a taste, you know, like a consumptive in itself maybe, so then it was sort of a disconnect to be eating and consuming all at once. if that sounds like anything other than complete and utter gibberish.

tahini!

what is this weariness that waits for you

today is thuuursday, a day i usually enjoy thoroughly for some reason or other. hopefully i'll enjoy this one too.

i'm tired. i feel like the work and the things i need to do are more suited for the afternoon and the evening and the nighttime rather than the early early morning. this will change soon, but for now i miss miss miss the balcony door being open and me sitting here and reading through cases and chapters, and using this here internet, and journaling in my own secret diary with the push-button lock like you get in first grade (and just a little part of this is a lie, about the lock, it's just locked in my com-pu-tor), and playing a nice relaxing game and resting during the day rather than waking up with that tiny dullness in my head and when i get home not even having time to open the balcony door because i'm just too tired and it's time to sleep.

rinse, and repeat.

but i'm glad to take this class, and i can't imagine just trying a case with absolutely no test-run or anything, and i'm glad of the unusual trust and sort of weird bond that develops between a small group of people when they are together for a week at a time, all day, doing scary things all together. it's been nice. and today i will give a closing with no notes, and all from my brain, and for the first time in front of others, and it'll be okay.

i can't wait to come back home. the bed is always more comfortable when you want to stay in it.

smiles awake you when you rise

today today today is my birthday day day.

and what a good one it has been so far. in the day of days of the birthday week (mark your calendars, 21 may to 28 may, officially) i have heard "you are! you really are one of my favorite people!" and i have heard "happy birthday" a million times and gotten two emails, one from across the country and one from across the seas, and i have received four phone calls, two from downstate and one such a surprise!--but then, of course not--which i loved, and another funny one in a funny voice. and don't forget a single IM message. and then another. oh yes, and a little dinner, and a coffee, and a lunch i picked myself, and a cross-examination that went perfectly. so, there you have it my friends, that is the day of days of the birthday week.

tomorrow begins the denouement: killing, and class-ending, and gifting, and card-getting, and ending all in the grand birthday dinner. what a good one, what a good good one. and gold! thank you for it.

an open letter to turkmenistan

dear turkmenistan, people of, KGB, rebel factions, the people that listen to steve's phone conversations and record them, whatever:

today is steve lynch's birthday. you might remember him from such shows as.....wait, what? oh, you don't have "teevee." right. well, you might remember him from such....uh.....russian shows? as "i believe that children are our future," and "i wish he would marry my daughter and take her with him to america." there are some problems with these statements, but we'll just ignore them for now because i don't want to end my day by dashing all of your dreams and causing you to stone him to death. cool?

look. it's steve's birthday today and i'm writing you this letter because i want you to treat him nicely. very nicely. so nicely, as a matter of fact, that i actually want you to construct the kid a workable toilet out of styrofoam, or there's going to be hell to pay.

okay, i'm sorry about the swearing so early on in this letter to you. i was trying to be nice, you know. cordial. it's hard for me, though. you see, we all happen to really like this kid a lot over here. the steve kid, i mean. the one that fasted with you? remember? during ramadan? and then he almost died or whatever because he lost like a thousand pounds in twenty minutes? that guy. good thing he didn't get too sick, since you closed all the fucking hospitals!

whoops! my bad on the f-bomb. you know, i'd also really like it if you made the toilet and you crowned him prince of turkmenistan. but only if the title "prince of turkmenistan" required him to be given food with healthy caloric content instead of fried fat in salt paste, or whatever you happen to be feeding him over there. see, i can't really do anything for him right now, on his birthday, because he's over there in your schools teaching your children how to be the future and all that shit, so i can't, you know, get him an ice cream cake from dairy queen, which is totally his favorite. or, say, take him to the country cookin' cafeteria, like he wanted us to do last year. i also can't take him to lunch, just him and i, and sing loudly to the radio while expositing on stevie nicks and her many mysteries. no, instead i'm going to just have to send him a card and a package, which some of your brightest and best will rip into and steal everything valuable inside, leaving him with nothing but a few packing peanuts and a tearstained piece of bubble wrap.

but turkmen dudes, seriously, steve is one of our brightest and best, and we love him, and care about him, and want him to be happy. so if i hear about you giving him some shitty birthday party, or not announcing it over the single television set somebody owns in the middle of the fucking desert, or not giving him a crown with actual jewels in it from fucking xerxes to wear for the day, i'm going to be hella pissed. so pissed, i am going to come there with a tootbrush and a nine millimeter and start taking hostages until you open up the fucking hospitals again, build stephen wayne lynch a fucking toilet, and give me a reason not to shoot you. seriously. fuck.

very truly yours,
catherine "i'm not kidding about the xerxes thing" loya.

everything that rises must converge

thank you for the zoo wishes: it was wonderful. the top of my head and face are burned. there was a polar bear swimming on his back. and an indecent monkey. the most awful lunchfood ever, straight from hudson high school. an early close, but so worth it. my legs are sore. i am going back soon. you can come.

and tonight, i have finally done it. God helped.

twenty-three has been a rough one, i'll tell you what. moving ins and outs, feeling that change of purpose, counseling and all that comes (and goes) with it, goodbye for two years and one half, surgery, throat nodes (little bastards), onetwothree new jobs, some priceless friends (newish and oldish), once or twice sick with coldy-colds and once from too much to drinky-drink, a relationship disaster, one speeding ticket, two warnings, an application to the ohio bar (twice updated), a law school crush come and gone, a poisonous plant, a terrible and awful awful summer, a dean's list, an award and another, and and and finally and thankfully and miraculously feeling whole, tonight.

twenty-three. and soon i will be twenty-four. God blesses me with another year filled with more miracles and plenty of screwballs and, you know, whatever else. thank you ahead of time, God. i have loved twenty-three, despite the roughness. i am ready for twenty-four. and on twenty-four, no less!

it happens only once, you know.

wenger, s.a.k. design

geez, i don't have time to do this now. at all. stop! stop it!

watches are a big deal in the loya family. my grandfather had a bunch of them, some he fixed himself i'm sure, all of them in mint condition and still working and still very nice. my dad has those now. and my dad, don't even get me started on the watches this man has. none of them gaudy, all of them classy, shined and polished and still smelling like new leather or new metal. tick tick tick they all still go, rolexes and japanese electromagneticwhosiwhatsits and silver or gold, or silver and gold, or black, or brown, with a little date dial or three different small faces--one for seconds, one for minutes, one for hours--or maybe one with a different time zone, or....well, you get the picture.

so when my dad buys a watch, you know it's going to be a good one. one that ticks, one that tocks, one that won't ever stop. it's like he puts his whole self into the pursuit of making sure you can tell time--really, that's my dad right there--because telling time is important to him. you need something that works! you need something that will be subtly nice, and not just ooooo, shiny! you need to tell the time!

like cars. when my father buys a car, there is no breaking down. there is no "i ran out of wiper fluid," because if he's within a fifty mile radius of you, he has come to your house to fill up the car. there is no "i have a dent in the back bumper," because when he (arguably stole) your car to get it washed (which you don't really see the point of, but okay) and the oil changed (even though it wasn't quite time yet), he had them fix the dents. "you'll see," is what he says when you tell him that it's just going to get dented again, because, really, has he seen your parking garage? the way those people park?

so watches. very important in the loya family. my father has bought one watch for me, about five years ago, for Christmas. the one after i graduated from high school and was already in college. i have had to replace the battery in this job approximately once. "soon," he says, "it'll be time to replace the battery," which is something he says excitedly. i have received more compliments on this watch than i have received compliments on anything i ever wear. people ask to try it on! people ask how much it is! it's astonishing. and really, all because of my dad's magical powers.

i can't believe i'm going to be late for work to tell you about watches and my dad. but, really, can't i?

held to the past, too aware of the pending

when i was in college i took a nap every single day. every one. it was a beautiful, peaceful, restful time, the naptime. i would crawl right in and pick up where i left off, and sleep until some evening hour where i would get up, take a shower, and go downstairs to watch tv with the cockroaches. every day. but in those days my mind was filled with inner turmoil! sadness! one could even say, despair! confusion and torturous anger!

i mean, not all the time. i wasn't that crazy. but still!

now it's all reversed. now i wake up and that's that. i look at the internet for ten minutes, i take a shower, i get dressed, and that's that. if i actually do take a nap, it's because i'm either 1) sick 2) very stressed or 3) exhausted. today it happens to be number two, so i went and took a nap just now and i woke up feeling awful. in the old days, these naps were always so nice. the waking was nice, with a pleasant yawn and a scratching of the head, and then trodding off to the kitchen to have a nice cool drink and a high-five hundred to the centipede living in the brita. these days, i wake up from naps and i have malaria, all hot and sweaty and cloudy eye-rubbing.

and as for the old brain, it's much calmer. less constant panic, depression, end-of-the-world-ness. a significant drop in rousing renditions of the It's Never Going to Be Okay (Again, or Ever) song. a little more faith in myself, through God (but, maddeningly frustrating: a little less awareness of God's presence). more effective (and kinder! so much kinder!) talking-to's and talking-down's and talking-through's with myself when anxiety strikes because of the littlest reasons or the biggest ones (though i don't always land the ending on those every time). and if nobody's there to listen just then, that's okay. and the broader feeling of happiness and willingness to take time for myself and control--here's the thing--control my time with others and still feel loved and okay rather than terribly guilty, and awful, and panicked, like i'm missing something or the faint strains of the 2003 smash hit Now You've Really Done It (You're So Selfish, Why?) start to be faintly heard. and a million other things.

so that? is why i really loved my time with the devastator. God-given. it's a neat little gift too, He gave me, because i genuinely care about her and enjoyed my time with her and respect her, and that's of course the biggest reason i was able to work with her so well and come so incredibly and miraculously far. i am humbled by this gift and can't believe i got it. and naturally, what makes it so sad for the time to end. it's one of the first really big losses i've had that i've truly felt through so far, and right away, rather than pushing it down or realizing it later, after i had to call out the emergency troops of anger and denial, marching along merrily to the military beat of It's Not Broken If I Can Fix It (Fuck You). so it all feels very real and very sad, but lasting and like something that's true instead of the insane disco melody found in The Worst Thing That Ever Happened, Times Two.

but, of course, all things in their time, and it is time. i think eventually it would become increasingly difficult to continue this building up of trust in myself, and being okay, and being able to comfort myself and take care of myself. and turn to God alone i think. what's interesting is that six months ago i was in a panic because i was constantly listening to the piano-fueled ballad Who's Going To Take Care of Me When I'm In Trouble (Help)? but these days, that one is rarely played. it's been all about the aucoustic guitars and Will I Be Okay, After All (I'm Scared)?

so there's all that, just for you. God has always, always taken the best care of me. even when i am convinced there will be no new progress, no new improvements, no strength and no help, no understanding and no comfort, and no no no peace, He always has someone for me, to tell me what He wants to say, to remind me, to love me in approximately one billion different ways. i take pieces of every one with me, and each success i have they are a part of. so many different and interesting and wildly contrasting or uncannily similar people in my life, and i love them (you) all. thanks for it.

if only i didn't have this fucking malaria, we'd be all cool baby.

factories and marching bands

sufjan, sufjan, sufjan. where have you been all this time? congratulations on incorporating both a sitar and a xylophone, not to mention a petula clark-esque backup vocal into a single song. my heart, she is a little yours.

i am wearing a purple and white striped shirt. little stripes though, not bold ones. with a V for a neck. i'm going to change though, because it is getting a little chiller-willers outside and this has no armsleeves. nope. what should i go for do you think? i don't know either. how about the elliot bay book company shirt? the yellow thermal? a potato sack? i'm all about potato sacks, yo. throw it on and sack it up.

dear lyndsey teeter nee johnson: we wish to inform you that tomorrow you better update your diary, or your margaret thatcher dog will be kidnapped. dog-knapped. thatcher-knapped. this is not a promise, this is a threat. things could get ugly around here for ol' mags. hop to.

the zoo zoo zoo is soon soon soon.

when she lived in new york city, my mother would go on her lunch break to the central park zoo to get a hot dog and see the polar bears. only the polar bears. those were her favorites. every day.

i like the lions, myself. roar! and the penguins, the sea lions and the giraffes. and the hissing cockroaches because they're so incredibly awful. and the gorillas! oh yes, the gorillas. don't look them in the eye!

tonight i'm going to see my first midnight movie since harry potter el (los?) secundo came out. those are fun, which i had forgotten all about until the other day, and now i'm more excited about it than i was at first. but now i have to empty the dishwasher and make something for dinner, which will be.....pasta! well. a sandwich? a pasta sandwich! yeech.

i snuck in a contraband coffee container into the law library today. clever little cat i am. and not as sad as i was yesterday aft and eve. so there's that, then, yes? yes! say yes to you-know-where.

use my hands to use my heart

today at the end of my session the devastator asked me if she could give me a hug. i love hugs, maybe not-so-secretly. bring it on, dude.

do you want to know what's surprising? there was crying, sure, and still the lasting trueness of it all, but so many really nice and kind things were said and heard it really made me feel much better than i thought i would. two more times, friends. yeeeeeeeeee. shitfuck, as one mr lynch would say. i miss you steve. at least i'll freaking see you again some day.

and the other thing is: i'm sort of sick of this weepy indignation over boys that aren't half of what i wish, even now a little weak from crying and changes and sadness. you don't have a brain in your silly head, smarty, not about this! so i think, the beginnings of the thought: it's time to give it up. not my business to be going along worrying anyway, that's up to the king, not me. go to, then. off with you.

though it's nice to be silly sometimes.

there is a newfangled productions board meeting happening here in freaking forty minutes. i'm annoyed already and nobody's even here yet. the moral of today is: i'm sick of this crap. i saw a little bit of myself today, my real self, and i think i loved what i saw, those parts i never see and always forget about or discount or devalue or ignore in favor of the more fun and more justifiable focus on the worst bits. and it's not putting up with crap that makes the love possible or exist! that's something true, to realize, it's not that. it exists because a King put it there and that's that.

and who am i to refuse a King? i just work for him.

i have a habit i've been trying to lose

remember when i quit smoking, in march of 2003, lying in a hospital bed and recoiling from the doctor saying, "heh, well that's why you're here. i see a million of you every day," after telling him weeeeellllllll, yes, i do smoke, but only sometimes! "sometimes?" occasionally? "occasionally, huh." yes, well, maybe a couple times a day, really, but that's all! just....a couple. times a day. really. "heh, well....."

because i remember. but sometimes i forget. usually during exams, or on nights like tonight, when it's mid-may and the balcony door is open with the screen shut, and i have just had a very satisfying dinner and a very nice very often sampled bottle of wine, and i'm sitting here thinking to myself. i forget now, and times like now.

and the hardest, the mostest hardest, is when i am with you and, i am anticipating, already and already you, or even with you too (even though it was only that once, or maybe that twice), and of course with you on those walks, because those times gave me something to do with my hands when i was thinking and not talking, and it was good to be in silence but still be alright and not afraid. still walking and then stopping and then, "would you like another one?" and yes, of course, hand it on over or vice-versa, since we smoked the same brand and we still would except i got so sick and laid in that goddamn hospital bed with the worst headache i've ever had, i wanted to just die already, and gasping for breath and finally the doctor coming in with the "heh" and the "influenza" and the "or maybe pneumonia, more likely."

so i stopped. and it's been over two years now, and my lungs are practically if not pink, and happier than they've been since at least early 1999, but tonight, with the balcony door open, it's time for that smoke. except i don't have one. i will justify it and say, i will break that silence with you, or you, or you, or even you! you four, you are the ones that can make me risk the hospital bed. because for some reason and every reason you are my favorite favorites. and what that of all things has to do with it, of course i don't know. but, there you have it. for now i will be content with not being in a hospital bed, how's that.

good enough.

lundy, fastnet, irishsea, i've got a message i can't read

just a little of the piano right now to write. and this open balcony door, with the nice soft blanket and the wonderful slippers which i neglected to retire post-Christmas upon the advent of opening the shoebox with a new pair. "what cute shoes!" someone said once, after i was caught running a quick errand in the courtyard of the school.

i'm relieved about the summer vacation finally being here, though the class i sat in all morning and afternoon is much scarier than i really anticipated--and you know? it's not the opening or the closing that gets me, it's the direct and cross. and the objections! shit shit, the objections! but i suppose there must be the first time before there can be the understanding, or style, or opinion: i like playing trial, i hate the courtroom, i wish i could but it's not worth it, it makes me feel alive. we'll see what happens, hopefully together.

i was saying about the summer vacation, i'm glad it's here and so filled with things to do or not do or haven't decided yet, and i am hoping it will be with gladness i feel to the measure all the gratefulness, the joy, the excitement, the anticipation, the anxiety and the fear and the true sadness of things never done before: from letting go of the devastator, to be able to parse that out and away from all else that happens or will, to at last being gentle with myself in kindness for having what tries in earnest to be a good and workable and real heart rather than impatience and frustration and disdain for the too-muchness of how it works.

i saw all the graduates today at e.j. thomas, across from the law building, pictures being taken and degrees being received, new bachelors and masters and pea eight-ch dees. and i thought, i will try and do this well, God, what you are asking. you will put your words in my mouth and your hands on my hands and your arms ready to go around me. let me remember this.

counting to eleven as it collapses

whew. still alive.

it rained almost all night last night, and now it's that sort of cool dampness outside that's really nice to be out in, especially during the summer. is it technically spring still? i feel like once it starts being seventy-fve, it's summer. yes i do.

tonight i'm going to a 30th birthday party with some people at the law school. birthdays are everywhere this month, i'll tell you what. which means i have to 1) put on my thinking cap and 2) bring the hustle on the elizabeth cady stanton database.

there's something i never thought i'd say in my lifetime. elizabeth cady stanton database. the name of my neo-punk indie band. it's just a little side project i'm working on, is all. look for our latest effort, the hearth is not a home featuring the single tin lizzy.

tomorrow my sunday is a little ruined by my trial advocacy class, which starts at eight-thirty and ends at four, and then again on monday, but i have the rest of the week to prepare arguments. check this out though, i have to be in class during memorial day weekend. suck, huh. it'll be okay, at the end of this there will be a tidy little pile of three hours of credit in my pocket and summer with long periods of rest. i hope hope so.

i want to let you all know that i have three more sessions with the devastator left. one is on tuesday, then the first of june, then the fifteenth of june is the last. i'm telling you because things might get a little rough for me--as a matter of fact, i might guarantee that--and i would apprecicate your thoughts and prayers. everything's going to be okay, of course, it's just a big change. like going to college for the first time, far away. or moving to a big city. living alone, on your own for the first time. think of it that way. so if there are times when this space becomes difficult to read, or you wonder how i am, don't worry. it'll pass in time. i am lucky for you. thanks.

and now for my first trick, a cappuccino and a bagel.

tell me baby, baby why do i feel so bad?

we will have, they say, we will have scheduled downtime, where we fix what is wrong and try and make it work the way it was supposed to. so, applywithin will have scheduled downtime, right now, and sorry for the short notice, but we are trying to fix what is wrong and try and make it work the way it was supposed, supposed to. what is that way? if you have some idea, let us know straight-way, please. and forgive the diction, it's been falling apart all day.

i went to my own journal tonight, just to take the edge off, but it didn't cut it hardly at all, not nearly as much as ice in a glass half-filled with whatever you would drink when you're feeling like this. but do you ever feel like this? it's a mystery, that answer. what's the answer to that?

you don't know either, i'm sure. that's alright, i'd rather you didn't. how long do we find our identity in the things that define us and shape us and make us human? is there just existence there, or are we supposed to push past those things and times to reach some sort of unnamed place? i don't know. there are no verses that answer that question, and no discipleship to lead me thoroughly along the path i'm supposed to choose rather than the one i am on, or should be on, or might not have chosen weren't it for the community with a capital c, but not spelled that way, mind you mind you, i'm supposed to be a part of. no such thing exists. prove me wrong and i'll give you a million dollars. and i don't want any of that judgmental bullshit, you can keep that to yourself.

but at the same time, thank you and thank you for this day. for this life. that one doesn't preclude the other, that's the key, isn't it? doesn't that make enough nonsense that it works? and isn't there anybody else who can tell me the things i'm thinking, instead of just thinking them myself and verifying them for truth and that certification of being sane, or maybe too sane, instead of embarassing and ignored? how about that. there's that courageousness in the form of the most cowardly question i could think of right now. but just right now, give me some time. just some time, i'll make it up to you. now get the fuck out of here. there's only so far you can push your luck until it runs runs out, or you make it too hard to stand.

and how would you tell this to me? that's what i really wonder.

why do you get all the love in the world?

exams, they are over. two years of law school, they are done. i am a senior. a third-year. ready for another trip under the sorting hat, and the tri-wizard tournament, otherwise known as "the bar."

shit, just kidding God. i am so not ready for that yet.

anyhow, today i spent a lovely day, with fine-tuning my con law II exam answer, turning it in, taking a nice nice nap in the pull-out bed with the balcony door wiiiiiide open after a little lunch, finally finished my book (the high window by mr chandler), ran an errand, did some work, and now it is time for some delicious, intestine-destroying chinese food, the unveiling! of the new! xbox!, and a lot of killing. bang bang.

oh yes! and usually as a reward to myself for still breathing after exams are over i buy myself a video game, but this time i decided i would buy five (5) albums instead. so far these have consisted of with teeth (nine inch nails), geogaddi (boards of canada), and the forgotten arm (aimee mann). and i cheated a little and bought one little song in the form of robert plant's shine it all around. remember how i like him? i forgot too.

what else? i have considered the new convenient kings. anyone have any advice on that? and the modest of mice. suggestions? hints? walkthroughs?

and. and. listen: thank you all for being my friendliest of friends, and for praying for me and wishing luck and understanding and a thousand thousand other things. i love you very much. yes, you. even you. and you twice. better believe it, suckas.

and your glance nails in my eyes like a sword

and now it's almost sixty instead of almost seventy-five, and raining slightly with that sort of annoying wind--my glasses get rained on and my shoes squeak when i walk from the parking lot to the car, from the car to the door, from the door to the elevator. working on something for six and a half hours will do that, i guess, and make me inconceivably tired and with a rapidly deteriorating confidence and hope. not just about this, the deterioration, but about everything: the last ones, the months before these last weeks, and here i realize that it's the end of my year, really--not only the start but the end (another one! they're all around). someday, someday soon, my brain will adjust to the calendar rather than the school days, and i hope i notice, but for now it stays with the academics. another year gone and then that three month void of summer. what happens then is always so self-contained and a little empty, and i concentrate mostly on filling it in after finding the edges of its space: here's a class for a couple weeks, and some work, and some semblance of a schedule instead of that waking up without wanting to and going to sleep unsatisfied, the day wasted and the night gone.

the loss of feeling connected--to whatever, even if it's a community composed of people and things i'd rather avoid and wished weren't part of my life--is so great, especially the first weeks. and the tiredness of things past, and this desire to just go forward forward forward instead of this constant pop-up of things that were before--of people and places that don't know me any longer--it's all there in full force with no excuses, and demands decisions and boldness rather than deference and the passive whatever.

The Passive Whatever: Decisionmaking and Destiny, The Worn Places on the Soul III.

don't ever lose that, says the devastator, and i said don't worry my friend, wisecracking is in the marrow of my bones, whatever that does for me. i've changed my shirt now, to the american quality team with the red sleeves. i think i have to get out of here, because i'm too tired to sit and think and write, rewrite, revise (how can you be so ungrateful? is what i think, but not to myself, it just reminds me). i said something ugly just to be nasty today, on the phone, and i regret it and take it back, a thousand times. i want to see something good, a good piece of film or a stunning work of staggering genius that has absolutely nothing to do with dave (though kudos to him) or any of what goes with him. i am tired of a community in itself divided, and tired of pretending that it's not, and just tired.

probably too tired to post.

take it easy

in an hour and ten minutes, about, i will download my last exam. i expect there will be some outlining done, and then a merry trip to borders in order to write my answer. then, i'm going to put it away from me until later. hopefully it'll go alright. due process and equal protection, right? i love those guys. girls? gender-neutral, non-discriminatory amendments. right.

you really must visit ljo's blog to see pictures of her new puppy. new pups everywhere! my parents are getting another one, can you believe it? geez. i am ridiculously jealous. all i have is a dishwasher. it's pretty nice, but not really much in the fun department. or the walk department. i suppose there's less mess on the carpet, but sometimes not really.

i'm feeling rather anxious right now. i can tell it's the end of exam week because it is spreading to other areas of my life: friends, my health, everything. but it's okay. just calm down, now.

here i go.

the last one. the only one left.

subway? hi. look, i try and ignore how weird your meats look, especially the turkey. so oval! so...grey? and is that.....rind? i hope? anyway, i try and ignore that. and how no tomatoes can really be that red, all the time. and how your bread is sometimes, towards the end, sorta crusty rather than "fresh baked." i really try to ignore all that. but what i cannot ignore is the fact your sandwiches never fill me up! they are never satisfying for more than two hours, and that's pushing it. what is going on over there? i'm glad you're so healthy, but no calories? like, at all? not working out for me. no wonder that guy jared lost all that weight.

i think i might've broken some ribs.

today, for the first time in history and nearly twenty-one years of schooling, i had to get another bubble sheet. my professor was so adamant about having Absolutely No Erasure Marks On the Bubble Sheet that it all went to my head or something and i fucked up. a lot. not even once or twice, we're talking at least five or six times. i know! i don't know what happened either. and you know how you try to erase, but then there's the smudge across the paper, so then you erase even more, harder this time? except it's just getting worse? and you look really closely, and you see that somehow you've managed to nearly erase the actual printing on the sheet, except the smudges are still there? how? how does that happen? i don't know. i even used two different erasers! anyway, i finished the torturous thing and then had to go ask permission to use another one. there was a ripping ceremony for the smudged one into tiny, tiny pieces by the professor. and then she ate them all. no, just kidding, not really. but wouldn't it have been cool if she had?

do you ever worry that there's something in your slippers? in the toe? i do. i think i saw a discovery channel special on scorpions once, and how they really like small, dark places, like shoes. and i believe there was a reenactment of some type, where the little scorpion crawls into the shoe and disappears. despite this, the discovery channel falls in great favor with me, as well as any other channel that shows animal documentaries. i really, really like animal documentaries. especially ones on insects. or the ones where they show a year cycle of all the animals that live in a particular place, like the desert. or the jungle! i know, i hate myself too, it's okay. but i least i didn't say the history channel (which i also love, especially "history's mysteries," sick), right? but remember that one special they did about "the real Jesus?" and they made the face out of cyberpaint, or whatever? and, okay, but who was the absolute genius that came up with the food network? because i would like to shake that person's hand. "unwrapped?" yeh, i watch it. so what? don't make me go all rachel rey on your ass, because i will.

oh and don't forget bravo! i love that channel. except "dinner for five," which i can't stand. but hey, way to show really good movies, especially those marathons. nice work, people at bravo.

i have to go, i think this is only going to get worse.

the burden shift of the duty of loyalty

the night before my first exam i can never fall asleep. i just lay there, usually, and my heart pounds and my brain doesn't stop, and my hands shake. also i just ate some pizza, and it's four in the morning, and i have a headache that feels like someone shot me in the head, through the left temple. happy mother's day.

but in parting, i'd like to say that i had some starbucks coffee in the form of an au lait, and it was much better than i remember it being. but if that's because it reminds me of people i know who work there, so i enjoy it, or if it's because the quality is really much better, i don't know. or maybe the gasoline i've been drinking at angel falls has completely ruined any and all appreciation i may ever have for actual coffee flavor. possible.

lay off the crack, jack

i am riddled with anxiety. and a slight depression. and a definite case of the crazy eyes. my corporations exam is on sunday. my ethics exam is on monday. my con law exam is on wednesday. i saw the devastator today and there are only three more (not two, i was wrong) sessions with her. i've had espresso and a diet cherry coke and a sandwich. oh, and some chips with dip. and a mint. but the mint was sort of gross.

i cannot. stop. thinking.

okay, look. i need to get a haircut, and right now, because it's like rufus the shaggy dog or whatever the hell that movie was called is all up in my hizzy. BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY TIME.

also, i hate that excuse. "i don't have any time" is lame, albeit true in most cases in which it is used. i use it. you use it. we all use it, and scream for ice cream, another phrase i hate, and not just because i don't particularly care for the frozen confection known as ice cream. it's more because, i actually have heard people screaming for ice cream, and they're usually somebody else's children (as opposed to my own?) in the grocery, while i'm scaling the organic section in order to reach the last, freezerburned and forgotten amy's macaroni and cheese, gluten-free or whatever (don't go for the dairy-free variety, whatever you do. i mean it). i guess i just can't relate, since when i was little i was screaming for either a) new lego sets b) a puppy, which i subsequently got but then was terrified of when it sort of bit me in the car on the way home from the shelter (we eventually, after she had busted a hole in the wall of our kitchen by slamming herself into it, eaten not one but two of my winter coats, consumed my mother's favorite pair of pink socks, the dog bed, and then "playfully attacked" our 12-year old neighbor--who actually became terrified of all dogs for years after that incident, gave the dog to the k9 training squad, where she takes down dangerous criminals by "playfully attacking them"), or c) another mcdonald's happy meal. but not with those stupid barbie dolls they always gave for the "girls' meals," because i know i was like the president of the tomboy association or some shit (an expression which i ALSO HATE, BECAUSE I HATE EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME, apparently), but hello? barbies are boring if you are an only child. BORING.

i mean, i really liked playing barbies with my best friend mary (the elder sister of elizabeth, the unfortunate victim of dogaphobia), especially because she had a bajillion clothes and shoes! remember the shoes? and she had the sports car or something, and that was totally awesome. i just had the heart family house AND the barbie and the rockers stage set (which totally came with the 45 RPM (that's right, bitches, eat your heart out) record featuring barbie and the rockers singing not one, but THREE of their smash hits) AND i had the heart family car because i was a spoiled brat, but really maybe not so spoiled because it was so freaking dull playing with all those things by myself. so i spent the majority of my time tramping about in the woods around our house and playing pretend.

also, "playing pretend" does not mean "i have no friends," but it sort of does. and that's okay! after years of therapy and plastic surgery, it's all fine now.

all of this is lies! LIES! maybe not all of it. OR IS IT?!? no, really. BUT MAYBE!

where and when they fly i don't know

it is important to have the right music playing when you write in this space. now the right music is the innocence mission. today is a winter sunday and we wear our heavy coats. it was a lovely, beautiful day outside with not too much breeze and just a little bright, quiet enough that i could hear my steps across the parking lot with their slightly uneven rhythm and smelling so good it was hard to breathe it all in at once.

but i spent it inside a commerical bookshop with medical students talking on cell phones and to each other (can i call you back, i never took notes, where do you think this formula goes), and i asked very politely and a little sheepishly, to the girl with the tattoo of a name (hers, or someone elses?) in long, delicate script around her arm and reading the book with such a crestfallen expression: would you mind switching seats with me, please, i need the electricity in the plug at your feet, and she said, yes of course, which seat is yours? and turning, with a smile and sweeping my arm over the whole room of empty center seats, all of these are mine, and i offer them all to you for being so generous. and i drank espresso with hot milk and a little honey, and i heard an old man say to another: don't say see you later, you may come to my funeral tonight.

but before that, there was the law school and the criminal law students with their exam in two or three hours, and them finding finding finding me, i am still confused, what is the majority rule, the defense of habitation, the castle exception, what do i need to know about rape, are you studying, am i bothering you, any words of wisdom? i had figured out the rules of short-swing trading by then, you see, so i didn't mind, not really, at all.

and now! rest, or at least sleep, is in order, what with the devastator tomorrow and all and everything and anything that comes with it. you know i've had enough of this trouble following me high and low, now it can go. let me let this go, let my heart be ready, let me please. you who are unfathomably good and strong and knowing, you can do anything.

so, please. i cannot pull the leviathan in, he will not beg me for mercy, he will not speak to me with gentle words. but please.

lingo H101: half-swears and other made-up vulgarities. honors course. pre-req 100, 100.02

i believe that chotch is spelled with a "t." i have also seen it spelled like this: chatch. variations include chotchsky, which is a personal favorite and perhaps coined term, denoting a person (hey chotchsky!) or a thing (this chotchsky won't start) or way of being (he was really chotchsky about it). go to, my brothers and sisters.

there is a delicious dinner here waiting for me to finish this post. it waits, patiently. i have to echo monsterbeard's (akimbo! guns, akimbo!) sentiments when i say that halo 2 on legendary is the hardest thing i have ever experienced. it's like somehow worse than the worst and most unfair math test. harder than the nine minute run (national fitness test! holla!). harder than those hand things we had to do in gym class. what the hell were those called?

i had some really terrible nightmares last night involving animated little scary zombie things, and black liquid substances, and the like. that's the first truly scary "nightmare" i've had, rather than just "horrible emotional fear coming true in the form of a dream" i've had in a long time.

dear kt: congratulations! will you do my taxes someday? please. seriously.

there is lots more to say here, including a bit about how i'm starting to have the crazy eyes, but we'll get to that later. food first and foremost. yessir.

vengence is the lazy form of grief

go. see. the interpreter. everybody's good in it and i cried three times. but just a little. i know! yes, it is thrilling, but it's also very emotive. good themes. very human. the most amazing quotation about the human voice. everybody's good in it. everybody. dear nicole kidman: i don't care if people think you're made entirely of botox. even if you are, you are still an incredible actress. i would like you to be happy. dear sean penn: hi. those people that hate you because you went to iraq and then came back and took out that ad in the papers are idiots. also, thank you for doing that. also, i think you might be my secret new favorite actor. don't say anything yet. i'd like to talk to richard alone. dismissed.

leftover pizza goes so fast. three cold pieces, is what i had for dinner just now (just now, that's correct), along with a nice, crisp, perfect can of ginger ale. caffeine free, of course.

i managed to get very little studying done today. but i am now the proud owner of the most amazing thrift store t-shirt i've ever found, which involves a dancing beaker and his friend, a test tube. the test tube guy is holding a microscope. and, of course, embalzoned across the front: "HARRIS SCHOOL SCIENCE MANIA 2002." it is dark blue, and is worth two dollars.

thank you, village thrift and harris school, for giving me this gift.

there's this nomadic quality of reading week. i wake up, i figure out where to get coffee, i drive there, i try to decide if i stay at the shop or go somewhere else, i sit at the somewhere else for hours, i pick up and go elsewhere, i eat supper at elsewhere, i move on to the last spot, i have some tea at the last spot, i drive home. every day the same, only in different places. tomorrow i will try to break fast at dodie's across the street. supposedly they have "like, the best breakfast, ohmigosh" there. then on to borders. on to more ethics rules. on till morning.

words, my friends. not just but always.

but Dad!

the reason i don't like raspberry pie is because the raspberries always come out of a can, with added sugar, and then the sugar on top of the pie mixture and baked makes it too sweet and not enough flavor. like gross old jelly, instead of good, wonderful pie. blueberry pie is even worse. fresh blueberries are where it's at. make a note.

i only have six more pages of something left, which i should really be seeing to rather than writing here, but it became easier to give in than resist. resist! there is a pizza coming. i ordered it online with something called "the pizza wizard." abracadabra. like the pokemon.

man, remember pokemon? i'm glad that's over.

there's this guy spinning the hot hot classical tunes on wksu at the moment, who is somehow a little annoying rather than just speaking in that calm, soothing tone like the lady does during the late night program. the "don't drive with this on" tone, which, hey mister guy, i'm not driving so quit it already. no firey crashes here.

it's taking a lot of energy to restrain myself from getting on itunes and blowing about fifty bucks. but, there's the new boards of canada. and the new convenient kings. and i think i've lost forever my copy of you are free (!) and and and.....where your treasure is, so shall your heart be.

if i trip up and fail you

reading week is like a time specifically designated to freak people out. all the tricks and traps of asking other people for help--they're studying more than you, know it better than you, will get a better grade than you, and they're memorizing the ohio revised code and why haven't you done that you don't even know the difference between a vote and a share yet and what the fuck is a triangular merger--are set up very nicely by the time monday rolls around. by the end of the week, after desperate plays at discipline in the form of going to various coffeeshops and going until you reach page this or the time when, after phone calls and emails, after trying to remember that you're just doing the best you can and that's all that matters, and that God exists, still, all you're left with is a frayed and shot last nerve (death by firing squad), a laptop bag that smells like coffee dust, and a hundred hundred emotions crowding in and banging on the door, let me out let me out let me out.

but while drinking my one-shot breve (the perfect warming drink, because it's windy and stone grey outside, the sky, and i'm a little lonely) at a new shop i get to see a little girl run in with a pink slicker on and messy blonde hair, and climb on the wire newspaper rack, and look at me and smile with two crooked and very small teeth and sit right down on top of all the papers and the free magazines and then when some of the plastic snaps off and she says, ooooops with the teeth again, she gets my real genuine bona fide rare smile, with the eyes too, because it's nicer than anything i can possibly think of or feel today.

and that's when i decided, only until page 30 and two hours fifteen, because it's sunday and the grey is getting into your bones already, so then take a nap in the nice soft yellow and pink guest room (and glad of the guest bit) but first write a little before you forget about the newspapers.