i'd spend the night & i'd lose my mind
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
01:36 a.m.

I don't update very frequently anymore. However, I am not met with many complaints regarding this fact, so I have not been particularly motivated to increase my attentions toward this site. (I really hate the word "site." It reminds me of spelling "night" as "nite.") I would expound upon the many intricacies of the past week, but I fear my small but dedicated readership would be dreadfully bored.

Taking into consideration the criticism I do receive regarding this journal, I will attempt to limit the degree to which I discuss things political.

Sometimes I want to hit my brother Casey really hard on the head.

I purchased a filing container and a sizeable quantity of hanging files. While on the phone with Crystal Roberts (oh! but my affinity for multi-tasking!), I happily organized the reams of printed material that have invaded my bookcases, desk, and floor. Filing is one of my guilty pleasures, along with TheSims and using far too much fabric softener.

I met the most amazing woman this weekend at the Student of Color Connection. (Testimony that the event actually lives up to its name... ) Her name is Fatima and she's an MRC for the Lakeshore dorms. We had two intense conversations while I was in Green Lake. I hope to work with her in the future, as well as hang out- which, as Fatima says, is something student activists rarely get to do. I also had a good conversation with Wendee Gardner, from the CSP. We're from the same class & have the same problems with Wunk Sheek. I hope to discuss this further with her at a later date.

Why am I meeting such wonderful people so close to our looming graduation dates?

segregate your mind from body, from soul
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
11:36 p.m.

As is obviously evidenced by this entry, I am avoiding reading both Paul: The Man & the Myth and Firewalking and Religious Healing. Ah the life of a Religious Studies major... We do this thing in my bible study where we write prayers on index cards and trade cards. You pray for a different person's individual prayers each week. I sent my two prayers out this week, appropriately vague, as always. Studying Paul in class and reading his letters in bible study and mass confuses me.

Exterior influences had me ferreting through my CD collection to unearth Tori's latest. My head was immediately flooded with memories of the bus between Borders & Walgreens (my two jobs) in Saint Paul and my room chez John and Ingrid. It's been nearly a year since I stood in the cold behind Northrop Auditorium, waiting to see Tori. Minnesota seems so long ago. In my recent visits, the Twin Cities seem alien, my memories distant and unrecognizable.

Last night I accomplished very little. I saw Kurt Vonnegut; I was ill impressed. It is difficult when role models became suddently fallible. I sat with Carlos and Kiruba. I am far more impressed by Kiruba than by Vonnegut. (I once quoted him in this very pitas page, in March 2001.) I also watched the first half hour or so of The Fellowship of the Ring. In my dream last night, I gave a paper pondering the existence of Hobbits of Color.

God, my life is disturbing.

if you knew that i could take the pain
Thursday, September 18, 2003
11:11 p.m.

I love Mirah's Advisory Committee CD. It's very straightforward. She has a song called "Recommendation" which makes so much sense to me. The whole CD is very simple- I find myself yearning for simplicity among the complexity of my life. It's comforting to listen to music long shelved and realize how its lyrics still apply to your life, only in different ways. (I am overly sentimental with a few pinches too much of nostalgia.)

Apparently there has been some kind of mass uprising in my dorm. After quite a few years of a 1:50 ratio of washers to people, laundry tickets instead of WiscCard swipe things like the other dorms, and washers who have been here longer than most of the faculty, the women got angry. Though we will not be receiving a greater number of washers, housing has decided to give us new, front-loaded, coin-operated washers. I missed all of the deliberations, but today when checking my e-mail, saw how Liz women have finally stood up for the needs of their whites, darks, and delicates.

My co-worker Meredith is fun. We went and saw Bend it like Beckham last week and she laughed loudly at all the best parts. She also had a cowgirl party and wants to have cookie nights at work. I need to work at Sex Out Loud, they have fun. How come student organizing isn't fun anymore?

Last night, I dreamt calm, quiet dreams. I fell asleep before the glow stars on the ceiling faded.

Everyone is so much older now than they were in high school. Our yearbook pictures look like totally different people. Except for Natalia. She looks exactly the same. Weird.

i'm just a teenage dirtbag baby- like you
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
12:47 a.m.

I'm starting to pull PoNAD together for the year. I got my USSA board letter today. I am actually on the board. It's really starting to sink in. I am determined to make positive change. I go to Washington in 3 1/2 weeks. It seems like only a few days ago that Lilia was explaining USSA to me, inviting me to the board meeting and taking me to lunch with last year's board. (Actually, it doesn't, it feels like 1000 years ago, but you know nostalgia.) I am honored to represent indigenous students.

Speaking of representing indigenous students- I am honored to know Janell. She spoke out for indigenous students during SSFC eligibility hearings. Our community has not exactly been welcoming to her, but she still stood up for it. Sadly, some people who should have been there to show support were not- because they are stupid eejits.

I have walked back from Becca and Kristin's apartment two nights in a row. Someone should commend me on my level of exercise. I did, however, lose one of my textbooks and unfortunately, have to buy it again. This is what happens when I brag about how little I had to pay this semester. I hope my book was found my someone who really needed one & not by some leech who will sell it back for a measly $5.

The sexual assualt workshop is on Wednesday. I'm kind of nervous- even more so because most of my friends will be either at Wunk Sheek or at the ASM kick-off. I am also kind of relieved because I will be in a vulnerable position and I don't want my friends to see me like that.

Note to self: Though thrilled with new office space, do not excitedly ask friends if they want to see my drawer. It doesn't sound quite right.

you were holding up the bank of me
Friday, September 12, 2003
12:01 a.m.

My schedule is newly printed in various shades of pink, denoting queerness, academia, and things indigenous. My planner tells me where I should be and when. Ada says "Indian time is on time."

I appeared at my McNair interview 10 minutes early, in a freshly pressed pink Oxford shirt and smoothly shined black boots. I kept my hair uncovered, a testament to my vulnerability. I sat at a wooden table, three academics asking me carefully-worded questions, to which I gave equally conscientious responses. Forty minutes later, I emerged, not shaken, but confident. I find out the results on Wednesday.

I will emerge from these apprehensions victorious, as dictates the denotation of my first name. I carefully fold two items of clothing, placing them into a red plastic bag; these times must pass. I shut my eyes, lids weighted with worry, and remember the vivid memory of cold oolong tea. I think of sterile white pillowcases and the streetlights streaming through sterile white venetian blinds. I am reverent.

i still know what i will say...
Thursday, September 11, 2003
11:54 p.m.

i've got everything i want- and still i want more
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
10:25 a.m.

It may be of little concern to the world in general, but I am quite frustrated with the amount of time it takes to print things from the Electronic Reserves on my printer. Mind you, it is through no fault of the Electronic Reserves but rather my printer. First, this blue bar comes up telling me how long it will take Acrobat to think about printing it. Then, my printer jolts to life, cleaning its printheads for an unusual length of time. Finally, the whole thing stops, an alert on my screen informing me there has been a printer error. The printer claims there is no paper in it, despite the obvious presence of paper, correctly loaded no less. I am taking it as a sign that God doesn't want me to know the answer to the question "Who Was Paul?" that G.D. Bunn so kindly answered on these 20 blurrily reproduced pages.

After a few hours on the phone last night, I was alternately a) informed of my micegenist wrongdoings b) informed of the Tribal Education system's total lack of appropriate teaching methods c) reminded that people really don't know much about what it's like to be a queer poc and d) I meddle far too much in the affairs of others. I am concerned that my friends and I will not be able to repair this rift/ misunderstanding. I have decided to place an embargo upon worrying. This is much more easily announced than accomplished.

I hate my resumé. It's beautifully formatted and printed on pink paper, but looking at everything I do/have done/ plan to do is very overwhelming and for some reason, embarassing. Must ponder reason for feeling uncomfortable with own resumé at some point.

i saw you standing alone
Tuesday, September 9, 2003
10:12 p.m.

I have increasingly disturbing interactions with the individuals with whom I spend the majority of my time. (Am I being vague enough?) Today, I emerged from the Red Gym and walked with flustered resolve to Engineering Hall. Once there, I almost fainted and scuttled out of the room as soon as my meeting was over, only to hurriedly grab my bible and attend a small group study in the 5400s. (run on sentences anyone?)

In an hour and fifteen minutes of great disappointment, Dr. Saloman did not wear one of his calico ties. These ties are a delight; they are actually very attractive. The blue tie with the cream colored print that he wore last week was very endearing; the fabric would make a beautiful ribbon shirt. Luckily, my favorite fellow Anthro student, Meg, added that class today! We're even in the same working group.

Eileen and I mailed our Choice USA applications today, after 3 weeks of procrastination and 3 days of me chasing Eileen attempting to force her to write her cover letter. Both our cover letters are excellent and our resumes are duly impressive. (Mine is printed on pink paper!) If we don't get in- it'll give me at least one free weekend this semester.

After all- I now need to clear a weekend to whisk Sara away for a cosmopolitan weekend involving at least one viewing of Dirty Pretty Things and duh, cosmopolitans.

i went so crazy i didn't know what to do
Monday, September 8, 2003
10:39 p.m.

I adore the way Audrey Tautou's typecasting makes the movies where she is not a cute little lovesick girl even better. Dirty Pretty Things was amazing. I may even like it as much as I do He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, currently my favorite movie.

I am resentful of all the new and newly returned people on campus. I want my friends to myself, I want the casual nature of summer to return. I am suddenly learning things that I didn't want to know; I feel compelled to run back to those who have wronged me. I want someone to run their hand through my hair and hold me when I'm falling asleep. I am tired of my promiscuity. I am fiercely monogamous when ensconced in relationships and equally slutty when I am not.

in one more hour i will be gone
Saturday, September 6, 2003
01:03 p.m.

First of all, to clarify any confusion, I have removed all livejournals from my friends list on this page. I can access your pages through livejournal. I love efficiency and those extra links served no real purpose.

Saturday afternoon- I return to my room having had very little sleep but managing to stay awake on adrenaline alone. My first-day-of-school iris wilted in my absence. It was implausible to transport flowers back to Madison from Minnesota, or I'd have a pale pink rose in my Orangina bottle-cum-vase. Aaron picked me up from the airport; we discussed the dynamic between anthropologists and American Indians on the drive to campus. He suggested a chapter in Custer Died For Your Sins.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'll become such an urban Indian that I'll forget what my goals are.

where there used to be rain
Wednesday, September 3, 2003
08:59 p.m.

The year's timbre unfurls a bit more with each event and each small, calculated (and spontaneous) interaction with those around me. Now I sit, body folded clumsily into this desk chair, attempting to temper my thoughts lest they manifest themselves negatively in my actions. I am slowly learning that my faults complement each other in odd ways; I am vain, but I am also unsure of myself and allow those around me to exploit me.

For the past 4 1/2 years, I have wallowed in masochistic crushes cum relationships, always tricking myself into thinking my heterosexual recruitment campaigns would prove permanent. Much as I love those Laskowskian posters, I can't deal with any more girls gone back to the boys' side. I've become so jaded with the dating scene that I turn away women in whom I am truly interested.

I continually prove myself completely incapable of hanging posters perpendicular to the horizontal.