the most journaly journal entry ever
and just like that, everything was back to normal. today it was so cold that i actually bought an overcoat that looks like it would fit perfectly in 1968. black cordorouy with three buttons and a scoop neck with a floppy collar. it's that kind of weather where the only clothes i want to wear are sweaters and leggings. no matter how eighties that sounds, it is comfortable and warm. that's all that matters, right?
i spent the morning at workshop and whiled away the afternoon talking to amazing people and bike riding through the countryside. when i wheeled my bike out the philosophy doctoral candidate was out in his normal spot. we exchanged cheery hellos and an hour later he was still sitting there so we exchanged cheery small talk that led to an hour and a half's worth of really amazing conversation. it led through a perfect lineup: bikes, art stores (or lack thereof), family, marine biology, correlative philosophy, materialism, whether or not people discriminate according to accents, the Problem of Consciousness (something he's writing on and we can talk about for some time without me really understanding what the problem is), good american tv shows (yes daily show, you shone so bright), the pros and cons of vast nebraskan space, where he should visit in america, where i should visit in the uk. and of course it all culminated with an impromptu cartography adventure, each of us penning our countries and mapping out the hot spots. it's funny how intimidated he used to make me. but he's just this goofy brit with out of control hair and tighter than average jeans. also got to meet the elusive girlfriend who ended up being a gem and an english lit grad student so everything worked out just fine and dandy.
we all went to dinner and it was blustery and the talk elevated to terrifying, with everyone freaking out about the heightened security alerts and all our friends' canceled flights to various continental countries. how eurostar sucks for jacking up all the prices because now people are more than willing to pay because they can't get home any other way (honestly eurostar?) i started to get annoyed with some of the kids who were hanging out with us so a few friends and i escaped to a bach concert at this church. the audience was all over seventy and the cello was extraordinary. they played a mozart and bach fantasie back-to-back and it made me realize (though i adore mozart) how much i'd grown out of him. i'd pick bach any day. next to bach mozart started sounding a little gaudy, all that overly confident ornamentation. he was never one for understatement; even his pauses feel grandiose. but the bach! she played that one gorgeous suite in d minor that everyone loves and it was heartstopping. how could something like that ever end, let alone begin? how in the world did that man write that song? something almost exactly like jealousy struck but it was all too marvelous to give it much limelight. they played this insane russian piece too that is probably the most anxious, tricky, stubborn, and scary. there's this one movement where it's all march with a rollicking waltz desperately trying to break in. the march not only refuses, it stomps it out even though the waltz carries the panic of a man in the process of drowning. anyway. even with the sometimes sloppy piano it was amazing. and free!
we got home and the annoying people cornered us at the cheese and wine mix-and-mingle-with-the-japanese-students. i hid amongst the japanese (to little avail seeing that i'm much taller and much less japanese) trying to strike common ground between dickens and manga. difficult task, that one. was feeling very trapped by the people who were annoying me so much so that i couldn't look at them. so i milled around "mingling" and smiling pretty large and fakely. no one seemed to mind though. it was then that i decided that i needed to go see him since he came to see me a couple nights ago and we had a great conversation. and we keep running into each other whcih makes me glad and he keeps, as a friend says, 'hanging on me' which isn't so much true as she clarified, 'well, you know, like he basically hugs you everytime you even move pass him.' so i yelled up to him and he yelled down and we decided i should continue distracting him because i'm very good at that. and we talked about fear and death and fear of death and/or the concept of an afterlife (which neither of us can bring ourselves to fully believe) and i realized how young we are. because we started talking about the security alerts and how or whether we will get home. and we know that we will but it still is freaky to think about.
our grandfathers died at the same point in our lives--freshman year when we were both already feeling sad about life. it's almost eerie how similar our pasts our, whatever small family tragedies happen in the course of Life Before University. and it hink we're back to being comfortable again. it feels really good. to talk like this again, so freely. and we talked a lot. he didn't want me to leave was basically the underlying theme. he had been feeling lost and scared and weird about being so alone in his room. so we struck the position we tend to when we have things to do: him at his computer working on brilliant papers, me lying on his bed reading whatever philosophical tracts he has lying around. this time it was wittgenstein's philosophical investigations which really needs to be read by everyone. it sounds like it would be scary but it's actually quite accessible, like talking to a really articulate but really good friend. there's a level of comfort in his writing. it's personable. and unexpectedly funny. and he's willing to laugh at himself, unlike the him he was when he wrote the tractatus. german thought has suddenly become important in my life over these past few weeks. i never thought i would go through this stage but it looks like there's no escaping it.
i think i fell asleep midsentence because i didn't wake up until 3.30 this morning, tucked into his comforter and hair all crazy over his pillow. my foot looked really little against the print and he looked uncharacteristically tall against the white door. we laughed at it all. the door, our expressions, my frazzledness, his sleep-creased face. we didn't want me to leave and i probably should have stayed there, comfortable and vulnerable. but the air is so clean right now, like a vacuum with a spray of white stars. to not take advantage of perfectly clear skies and perfectly clear streets seemed a cry. we walked to my home with elbows touching and we're at the stage where his politeness is no longer a novelty but just a very strong indicator of his lovely character. he likes to open the big gates and to make sure i don't trip on any larger than normal cobbled stones.
there is a certain gentleness expressed by the men around me lately. and i've come to terms with my wanting to be independent and their desire to show respect in these small ways. like at dinners, my quiet blonde friend always makes sure my glass is filled. it's not even a question, it's just what he does. and it's natural, not awkward in any way. just those little things that i sometimes fail to notice because they're so little.
i spent the morning at workshop and whiled away the afternoon talking to amazing people and bike riding through the countryside. when i wheeled my bike out the philosophy doctoral candidate was out in his normal spot. we exchanged cheery hellos and an hour later he was still sitting there so we exchanged cheery small talk that led to an hour and a half's worth of really amazing conversation. it led through a perfect lineup: bikes, art stores (or lack thereof), family, marine biology, correlative philosophy, materialism, whether or not people discriminate according to accents, the Problem of Consciousness (something he's writing on and we can talk about for some time without me really understanding what the problem is), good american tv shows (yes daily show, you shone so bright), the pros and cons of vast nebraskan space, where he should visit in america, where i should visit in the uk. and of course it all culminated with an impromptu cartography adventure, each of us penning our countries and mapping out the hot spots. it's funny how intimidated he used to make me. but he's just this goofy brit with out of control hair and tighter than average jeans. also got to meet the elusive girlfriend who ended up being a gem and an english lit grad student so everything worked out just fine and dandy.
we all went to dinner and it was blustery and the talk elevated to terrifying, with everyone freaking out about the heightened security alerts and all our friends' canceled flights to various continental countries. how eurostar sucks for jacking up all the prices because now people are more than willing to pay because they can't get home any other way (honestly eurostar?) i started to get annoyed with some of the kids who were hanging out with us so a few friends and i escaped to a bach concert at this church. the audience was all over seventy and the cello was extraordinary. they played a mozart and bach fantasie back-to-back and it made me realize (though i adore mozart) how much i'd grown out of him. i'd pick bach any day. next to bach mozart started sounding a little gaudy, all that overly confident ornamentation. he was never one for understatement; even his pauses feel grandiose. but the bach! she played that one gorgeous suite in d minor that everyone loves and it was heartstopping. how could something like that ever end, let alone begin? how in the world did that man write that song? something almost exactly like jealousy struck but it was all too marvelous to give it much limelight. they played this insane russian piece too that is probably the most anxious, tricky, stubborn, and scary. there's this one movement where it's all march with a rollicking waltz desperately trying to break in. the march not only refuses, it stomps it out even though the waltz carries the panic of a man in the process of drowning. anyway. even with the sometimes sloppy piano it was amazing. and free!
we got home and the annoying people cornered us at the cheese and wine mix-and-mingle-with-the-japanese-students. i hid amongst the japanese (to little avail seeing that i'm much taller and much less japanese) trying to strike common ground between dickens and manga. difficult task, that one. was feeling very trapped by the people who were annoying me so much so that i couldn't look at them. so i milled around "mingling" and smiling pretty large and fakely. no one seemed to mind though. it was then that i decided that i needed to go see him since he came to see me a couple nights ago and we had a great conversation. and we keep running into each other whcih makes me glad and he keeps, as a friend says, 'hanging on me' which isn't so much true as she clarified, 'well, you know, like he basically hugs you everytime you even move pass him.' so i yelled up to him and he yelled down and we decided i should continue distracting him because i'm very good at that. and we talked about fear and death and fear of death and/or the concept of an afterlife (which neither of us can bring ourselves to fully believe) and i realized how young we are. because we started talking about the security alerts and how or whether we will get home. and we know that we will but it still is freaky to think about.
our grandfathers died at the same point in our lives--freshman year when we were both already feeling sad about life. it's almost eerie how similar our pasts our, whatever small family tragedies happen in the course of Life Before University. and it hink we're back to being comfortable again. it feels really good. to talk like this again, so freely. and we talked a lot. he didn't want me to leave was basically the underlying theme. he had been feeling lost and scared and weird about being so alone in his room. so we struck the position we tend to when we have things to do: him at his computer working on brilliant papers, me lying on his bed reading whatever philosophical tracts he has lying around. this time it was wittgenstein's philosophical investigations which really needs to be read by everyone. it sounds like it would be scary but it's actually quite accessible, like talking to a really articulate but really good friend. there's a level of comfort in his writing. it's personable. and unexpectedly funny. and he's willing to laugh at himself, unlike the him he was when he wrote the tractatus. german thought has suddenly become important in my life over these past few weeks. i never thought i would go through this stage but it looks like there's no escaping it.
i think i fell asleep midsentence because i didn't wake up until 3.30 this morning, tucked into his comforter and hair all crazy over his pillow. my foot looked really little against the print and he looked uncharacteristically tall against the white door. we laughed at it all. the door, our expressions, my frazzledness, his sleep-creased face. we didn't want me to leave and i probably should have stayed there, comfortable and vulnerable. but the air is so clean right now, like a vacuum with a spray of white stars. to not take advantage of perfectly clear skies and perfectly clear streets seemed a cry. we walked to my home with elbows touching and we're at the stage where his politeness is no longer a novelty but just a very strong indicator of his lovely character. he likes to open the big gates and to make sure i don't trip on any larger than normal cobbled stones.
there is a certain gentleness expressed by the men around me lately. and i've come to terms with my wanting to be independent and their desire to show respect in these small ways. like at dinners, my quiet blonde friend always makes sure my glass is filled. it's not even a question, it's just what he does. and it's natural, not awkward in any way. just those little things that i sometimes fail to notice because they're so little.