The end of spring break

Well spring break is over and in the spirit of all things great I'm sad to see it end. My spring break started out pretty bad. We couldnt afford to go skiing like we had planned. My managers at my job got laid off, I got into a fight with my boyfriend and I seem to have while drunk bleached my favorite t-shirt. But three days into it we decided to get out of town if only to somewhere nearby. That lead us to Turner Falls.

My favorite day there was probably the day we went to Arbuckle Wilderness. We were in the car for hours. Just taking pictures, making fun of other people and animals and no matter what, we had laughs and loads of fun, we saw the animals and my boyfriend was almost kissed on the face by a buffalo. I have proof.

The News Today

In the news today it seems that the front page of the news is either scary or is completely unworthy of being news. So I have skipped buying the paper. Except on Sunday because the 8 year old in me still likes the comics and the chick likes the ads. There is also the occasional stop at Starbucks or Corner Bakery where I am likely to pick up the puzzles if they are still there.

But news still interests me. Im very broad on subjects. It can be any thing from current events, politics, local or even sports. I am likely to skim yahoo news and if i dont find enough information I will google the topic. I have come to depend on the net for many of my needs, the news being one of them.

My favorite source of events though has become Mark Morford of the SF Chronicle. If you have never read any of his articles I suggest you do. He is just as broad in topics as I am. Hes a liberal and very funny and will add information to any article that I'm not aware of and that actually interests me.

Check him out one day and if you have time read the comments people leave.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/02/18/notes021809.DTL&nl=fix

Living With English

My essay has been a struggle for me from the beginning. My first problem was the topic. I scanned through my life and could not find something I deemed worth talking about. At least nothing that was 1,000 words. Topics came to mind. Like my parents divorce or moving back and forth from country to country. But these seemed like they would become a novel not an essay. Then I came up with my essay. I like the story yet I think I still have a problem with my writing style. I'm more comfortable with internal dialogue. How I feel and what I think. But that singularly is not the appropriate style of writing all the time. Like for this story. I tend to run-on(which I hear I do often) and if my mind is rambling sure that works. But not always in this story.

Chemistry hates me, I know it!!

I'm dropping chemistry. The epifany came to me as I was driving home. Well it starting dawning on me in chemistry class today. If one subject annoys you and makes it hard to breath, for me chemistry would be that subject. I dont see myself as a stupid person. Sometimes a bit slow, but not quite short bus. For me though chemistry is the coldest most unwelcoming subject I have ever set my eyes on. How can a whole hour of my life be so completely devoid of humanity. I dread chemistry, I keep my head low and nod like I have a clue. I dont know how that affects my plans for the future. The future medical student hates chemistry. Ooops, Maybe I'll just have to charm them. We'll see. Maybe I'll take it this summer maybe not. Maybe it wont be a requirement anymore. Maybe pigs will fly and hell will freeze over.
While not realistic I can always dream.

It's Monday and I'm late to class

I'm late its a fact, undesputable, solid. I ran to class the whole way from the parking lot, hoping beyond hope that I wasn't late but I was. I walk in, smile and I'm greeted in kind. I can breath just a little.
I sit and realise that everyone is already writing. What are they writing about? Great, I turn to look at the projector, the lyrics to a song I never heard before. We are being asked to think how it makes us feel. I dont know, I didnt hear it.
It strikes me though that its a rap song and I dont see one profain word. He's not the first, but it is pretty rare.
We have to tie it up, class is almost over and yet I'm still not sure how i feel. The words alone don't have any pull on me. I'll have to wait till I get home.
I get home, but I fall asleep and what was supposed to be a half hour nap, turned into an almost full nights sleep. I awake from my slumber and beeline to the computer. google the song and listen.

Ahhh now I understand the pull, the attraction. I understand whats so great about it. The first thing that catches my attention is the melody. It sounds like a choir, you can hear all the childrens instruments, especially the xylophone. It makes me smile and as the rap beat is introduced to the whole mix, I feel like I want to move, dance. It amazes me that such meaning is tacked on to such a catchy beat. I wonder how many other great songs I miss when I sway to the music and miss the words. I wonder if the children playing the tune are some of the children he talks about and if that means they have found a better life. I hope so.

Water, the start of writing.

I wait tables. I run around left and right, up and down. Its Friday, the Monday of the restaurant world. I stop for a minute to take a break. Next to me is the soda machine, accessible, cold. I fill a glass and gulp it down. I instantly regret opting for the harshness. It feels like acid down my throat and I'm still thirsty. I try again, this time going for the simplicity of water, not quite as cold, but cool, refreshing, simple.
My body relaxes as I drink the water in gulps. My mind starts to feel contentment but I want more. I did not realize that I was so thirsty. So I have another glass, this time I sip it, use it as an excuse to take a minute to myself. Then I go back to work discarding what is left of the water. Not even realizing the waste.

I wake up in the middle of the night craving something. My lips are parched. I hate the man made heat. I don't crave food or juice, I crave water. I stumble around in the dark making it to the kitchen, fill a glass and take a sip. It tastes like mud. I spit it out and try again, yet the outcome is the same. Something is wrong with the water. I remember the road work on the highway. That is probably the source of the muddy taste. With the extensive roadwork the water will taste like that for a long time to come.
I just moved to this house a week ago. I checked out the area, the neighborhood, the garden tub, the big back yard and the walk in closet. I never tasted the water. Who tastes water before moving into a new area?
Standing there with water in hand, I imagine living far off where there is no water at all, where the faucets are empty and the rivers run dry, where people die of thirst. I think of the desert heat, the dryness of the earth, the cracking of the soil. I think of the plants, animals and people all sharing a common fate, death. Because all they lack, I hold in my hand.
I drink my water, all of it, not wanting to waste a drop. Tomorrow I’ll install a new filter, and when I go to work if I’m thirsty, I’ll drink what I pour. The amount of water in the world seems massive, but if others can die of thirst so can we. Maybe if I save some water that will make a difference to the world, maybe not but at least I can try.