Tomorrow I will be leaving for Bonnaroo with my boyfriend, one of my best friends, and one of her best friends. It will be a life-changing experience.



I...
Can't...
Wait.

BONNAROO!

Life and Death

I considered my mortality today. I went out with my wonderful friend Elizabeth today to take pictures. She's somewhat of an amateur photographer, so I went with her today to a very old cemetery in town to take pictures. She got this queasy feeling after a while and just didn't feel right being there. As I was walking around sort of on my own, it just didn't seem like there were hundreds of human bodies underneath my feet. I knew there were, but without seeing it it was just hard to imagine. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't care after I was dead if people were walking on top of my grave (although I'd prefer cremation) because my body wouldn't mean anything to the world. It was just a shell for a brain, for knowledge, for energy necessary to set my hands and mind in motion while I was alive. Not that the bodies of the dead shouldn't be revered and respected, I'm not saying to jump up and down and dig them up and hold fiestas on top of them. All I'm saying is that I don't mind what's done with my body once my soul is done using it. Cut it up for science. Bury it. Cremate it. I don't care. Just don't treat it like a living thing anymore; it'll be useless to this world once my energy leaves it.

There's another thought I've been mulling over for several months now- what is a life? Where did it come from? Where did it ALL come from? I've been beginning to think that maybe there isn't so much of a divine creator as much as there is this large, unifying energy that we're all created from and return to once life leaves our earthly bodies. But then again, maybe all God is essentially is a big ball of energy that he can direct portions of to whatever he wishes.

Deep.

Once again, I've gotten off the phone with my boyfriend wanting to throw it across the room, hoping for it to smash to bits. He was telling me a story, and I accidentally ruined it by making a comment about it during the middle of it. Well, he got really upset and wouldn't finish the story and then said he had to go. Once again I'm left feeling dejected and as if the stupid bickering we've been doing lately is my fault. Why am I always made to feel like its never anyone else's fault but mine anytime something happens like this between two people in a relationship? I even apologized as soon as it happened and that didn't help. And I think it takes a lot for a person to apologize, especially right after they've made someone upset and they themselves are upset as well. So he cut off the conversation and I hung up the phone. I always want to end our conversations feeling happy about being with him but twice in a week I'm left on the brink of tears and bubbling with anger. I don't enjoy this. Twice in a week I've called back minutes later to try to repair things because I don't want the rest of my evening ruined by feelings of sadness over getting upset with each other on the stupid phone. I even apologized again and asked if there was more to the story. He said there was but he didn't feel like telling me because it was a story he thought was funny but I ruined it. Well I'm fucking sorry I had NO IDEA THAT THE STORY WAS GOING MUCH FURTHER AND THAT MAKING A SIMPLE COMMENT ABOUT IT WOULD RUIN THE WHOLE GODDAMNED THING. Jesus Christ. I am sick of this feeling. I suffered it way too often in my last relationship. I am NOT always the cause of an upset. Things are NOT always my fault.

Because I can't be with him very often, talking to him on the phone and thinking good thoughts about him the rest of the time are all I've got to go on between the times that we do get to see each other this summer. Thanks for ruining yet another one of my evenings.

ROO ROO ROO

The Bonnaroo tickets arrived just a bit ago... and WOW do they look sweet. I can't wait to go; it's going to be a life-changing experience. A teacher's husband last night was telling me and my mom that two kids died at Hookahville a few weekends ago because they took some bad drugs, and my mom looked at me and jokingly said "well, now you know not to take any bad drugs."

Little does she know.

So tonight I went with my mom to an end of the year teacher party that one of her fellow staff members had. It was fine and all but then I stumbled on a chair on my way down to sitting on it and allll the teachers saw it and laughed and assumed i was trashed. Yeah I had been drinking but that was not the cause of the fall. So that brought my pride way down, then around 9 (when minutes are free) I eagerly went to the front yard to call my boyfriend, needing an escape from my mother who was slowly getting buzzed and telling me things I really didn't feel like listening to. Welllll he was too busy getting ready to go uptown and told me he had to go, so I didn't get to talk to him. Bring on the tears. I guess it was a combination of me not wanting to be there, my mom annoying me, falling down, and then the icing on the cake that was him telling me he had to go. So I stomped back to the back yard and of course my mom wanted to know what was wrong and I didn't feel like telling her but of course she pursued it, so I went back to the front yard and called him back, telling him he's the one person I wanted to talk to all day and he pushes me away. He pulled the "well what do you want me to do about it?" and the "I'm sorry" followed by a long awkward pause because I wasn't about to say "it's ok" because it wasn't. And of course I was sniffling because I was nearly crying and I said "I just wanted to hear about your day" and he said "just like every other day" (BAD RESPONSE) and I said "well that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it." The first time I called and he tried to get off the phone I asked why he didn't call me before he left if he knew he'd be leaving around the time I called. A sheepish "I don't know" is all I got for a reply. All I wanted was maybe an apology for having little time to talk but still taking a mere 5 minutes to ask me about my day, tell me about his, and then thank me for the e-mail I sent last night giving him protein alternatives for a person omitting meat from their diet. Sometimes I don't know if making an effort this summer is worth it when it often seems as if I'm the one trying the hardest. I'm sure I'll take that back soon enough but right now I'm rather irritated.

It's gotten much better. I went to visit, we talk daily, I'll make it. I've been working, planting things in the yard, spending some good quality time with the family, and enjoying getting into shape. Sorta in shape. Really that means riding my bike almost every day and trying to eat better. It's a start.

Now I won't say I'm over what I was upset about in my last post, but I'm getting happier. I got to see this today at Cedar Falls in the Hocking Hills area. I start work tomorrow, which will take my mind off things.

I'm alive, I'm well, I should be more thankful for what I have.

Green With Envy

I already can't handle this. 3 of my 5 best friends from school are living at Miami this summer with my in the house I'll be living at (with them) next year, and already I'm miserable. I'm reallllly looking forward to the moments next year when they'll be talking about something that happened over the summer and I won't have a clue what they're talking about and they'll say "oh we thought you were here that weekend". It was hard enough letting them all bond without me when I was in Luxembourg and now it's happening again. It wouldn't be as bad if it were just the three of them but... my boyfriend is living there too which makes it 100 times worse. I completely trust all of them, that's not the problem. It's just all the stuff they're going to do together without me, I feel so left out.

Here's the crappy thing- I don't want to be mad. I don't want to be jealous. I just can't help it that I am.

Even today, 2 and a half days after getting home from school, both one of the friends and my boyfriend called begging me to come back and stay there til I start work on Friday. Yeah sure, I'd love to. But I have plans with my family, It'd be a lot of back and forth, and I really don't feel like paying $3.15 a gallon, especially if I was just there days ago. Of course I want to see them all, but that doesn't seem to come through when I say "I can't, I think I've gotta stay here for a little while."

This is going to be a long summer.

I'm home for the summer, I don't start work til Friday, and... I don't know what to do with myself. I did some unpacking yesterday, but that's no fun, so I doubt I'll be doing any of that today. I ran some errands, but it's only 1:15 and I'm already done. I COULD go over to my mom's school and observe in the 6th grade classrooms but I'm done with school for now and have earned this sloth time. With this rare sloth time, I should be celebrating my one year anniversary with my boyfriend, but he's over 100 miles away and packing up to move in with my friends who are staying at Miami this summer. I don't want to get in his way. But I've got til Friday! I'm debating whether I should try to go see him tomorrow or something... who knows. Til I figure it out, I'm off to enjoy the sunshine and ride my bike.

Thoughts

It's nearly the end of the semester, I have one final to go, and I couldn't be more burnt out. It actually began somewhere near the last half to third of the semester, so it's been a long time coming. I don't know what it was about this semester that wore me out so quickly. I had two classes that I absolutely loved, my English and Geography classes (a good sign since those are my two concentrations), but the others I grew so weary of so quickly. I took a freshman level mythology class that I expected to love since I enjoy that kind of stuff, but the teacher was this dry, bitter woman with such a monotone voice. Ugh. I took a class that was meant for the middle school level but they can't seem to figure out here at Miami just how to adapt literacy courses to the middle grades. Oh wait, it's because we won't be teaching phonics to students. That's for elementary teachers. Yet they still give us instructors that are better suited to teaching elementary preservice teachers. I tutored a student, which was an enjoyable challenge, but got old quick because I had large assignments in the class for which I tutored the student, so my time got stretched pretty thin for that one.

I just want to be home with my cats, going for evening walks with my parents, making jam, and working with some of the coolest people I know. Work at the Culinary Support Center doesn't quite scream "talent and skill". I scoop cookie dough for 2 hours straight.

It's not like me to be apathetic about school, which is a scary thought. I've always maintained my grades with a high standard, I've always tried reallllly hard, studied my butt off. But I think I'm just fired up about actually getting a job and moving past this point in my life. Good thing I'll be student teaching in the fall. Don't get me wrong, though- I love being here, I love learning, I love interesting classes. Maybe I just didn't have enough of those this semester to keep me going. Next year at this time I'll be kicking and screaming, not wanting to be dragged away from this little cow town that I've come to love.

But then I consider how the family dynamic has changed at home. It's been gradual, and natural, but kind of sad because it's irreversible. I'm not the little girl who does no wrong in mommy and daddy's eyes anymore. Yet somehow... I am. And that makes things a little difficult. Lying about there being alcohol at a party in high school is negligible when I consider having to lie about where I sleep when I visit my boyfriend over the summer. They know, they just want the lie so it's easier to face me, easier to push away, easier to envision me as their little innocent girl.

Also, my brother finally moved out. That means I'm going to hear everything about how he lives from how awful it is that he hasn't put curtains up yet to how crazzzy it is that his girlfriend sits in the front yard on a Sunday morning drinking a beer instead of being in church or plain old being at her own apartment. This really jeopardizes anything I do because now I'm under the microscope too. Also, I feel guilty when I go out with my friends instead of staying in with my parents because I haven't seen my dad all day because he's been at work. I don't know how to pull away. I don't know if I want to pull away. I don't always know what I want.

Shouldn't I be going through this quarter-life crisis next year at this time, and not right now?

The Manifesto of a Midnight Toker

I suppose, based on a previous post, that you may know by now what sort of position I’ve taken in terms of the U.S. war on drugs. I want to use this post to discuss a more specific position, namely in terms of the legalization of marijuana. I won’t say “don’t read this if you don’t agree or personally, recreationally smoke pot” because my intentions are to inform and hopefully change some minds. All I ask of you the reader is to keep an open mind and refrain from passing judgment. I know that I am not alone as far as my stance on this issue goes, as there are many groups and NGOs devoted purely to the cause.

After all, over 20 million Americans have smoked pot in the past year, and more than 80 million total Americans have used it in general.

To illustrate why I take the position on this issue that I do, I must explain to you the personal experience I have had with marijuana. To quote an online organization’s website section entitled The Experience of Getting High, “many people report that cannabis makes them more open-minded and tolerant of diversity.” The instant I read that line, I knew it completely summed up my own experience with pot. Since the time I first began smoking pot occasionally (high school) and more frequently as I eased into my collegiate career, I have become more accepting of all groups, and gently switched from a conservative mindset to a liberal one. I don’t have a problem with conservative-minded people, but I’ve gone through a few changes as a result of becoming this free, love-everyone, any/no/self-created religion accepting person. For example, I used to be a very devotional Christian that was in church every Sunday. I believed deeply in one God and one religion, and was recognizing of, but not fully accepting of all world religions. I didn’t have enough experience with world history to realize that Christianity isn’t that old and that “hey, there are some pretty serious religions in other parts of the world.” You could say I was stuck up America’s ass, and was kind of caught in this superiority complex whenever I compared the ways and customs of Americans with those of other countries.

You’ll have to give it to me that I was experiencing high school through a pre- and post- 9/11 lens.

Anyway, I figured that the ways Americans did things were the best ways to do things- religion, government, public policies, education, you name it. It of course took me some time to open my eyes. But until I did, I was stuck in a small conservative city with small-town values, with a model and upright citizen for a boyfriend (who loved to be staunch with me whenever I did something remotely close to receiving his disapproval), and friends who were too politically apathetic because they were busy enjoying their teenage years and their worldly-ignorant mindsets. What could I do but conform to these various values? I saw nothing wrong with it because there was nothing out there to tell me it was wrong. There was nothing to do but approve.

Then came college.

Mr. Staunchy and I were on the outs, I made new friends, I traveled to Europe, I met my new boyfriend, who was just what I needed. I consider him the catalyst for releasing my inner liberal. And when I say “liberal”, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I align with the Democratic Party. It refers more to my lifestyle and values. The summer before I met him, I had begun hanging out more with a good friend from school and my field hockey team. She and I enlightened our minds several times, including during an amazing light show on the 4th of July from her rooftop. My mind was finally expanding outside of the little bubble of a life I’d been surrounding myself with. So, when I met him for the first time in front of our dorm on a balmy September night, I was faced with a tall, shaggy-haired, Zeppelin-shirted, cargo-shorted young man. Top it all off with a plaid fedora and you’ve got the most liberal-minded individual I had ever met (and to this day can’t be beat).

I was smitten.

I learned a lot about him and from him the following semester, then I was off to Europe for a study-abroad program. We emailed daily while I was gone, and as soon as I returned, we decided to make it official. It was during that following summer, especially after just having seen the way Europeans live, that I grew more than I ever expected. I adopted a very free lifestyle, not holding back from the indulgences of marijuana, listening to new and enthralling music, and opening my eyes to the real world around me. We came back to school for my junior year and his senior year, and have continued to smoke pot together often.

This is NOT a defining aspect of our relationship. It sure does help you become deeply connected to a person, however.

A fiery Democrat and deeply interested in the politics of marijuana policies and legalization, he tells me of new developments, research, groups involved, politicians in support of decriminalization, and people in the public eye openly favoring legalization. This has consequently turned me on to similar notions and understandings in this realm of controversy.

So now, here are the reasons I personally and fully support the legalization of marijuana.

• It doesn’t give you a hangover, you can’t overdose on it, and it always makes you happy.
• Physicians recommend it to ease the pains of many types of patients.
• It’s all natural.
• It is not physically addictive.
• You don’t make ridiculous decisions under its influence (like a crazy drunk who drinks themselves blind, screws that guy from class in the men’s room, and then throws up on the bouncer’s shoes before stumbling home alone).
• It is very enlightening and a thorough exercise for the mind.
  

By now, I hope I have achieved my intentions of informing as well as changing minds. I also hope it’s clear that I didn’t write this to convince people to try pot- I know it’s not for everyone. But for those whom it is for… well, I just think its time to stop ostracizing people for responsibly doing something that is safe, not harmful to others, and is THIRD in line behind alcohol and tobacco for being the most recreationally used drug in America.

We’re productive, intelligent, society-minded people too.

Thoughts on Writing

The past semester I have been enrolled in an Advanced Composition class. It's easily my favorite course that I'm taking right now, but I'd have to put it in my top 5 favorite courses of my college career. I think I've done a lot of growing this whole school year, but this class in particular has really outlined that growth for me as I've learned through my own writing just who I am and who I aspire to be. I never knew that I could enjoy writing so much, but I owe much of that enjoyment to the format of the course. It's been so open and free, with little to no constraints on format, style, voice, audience- everything. It's been refreshing to have an instructor that welcomes and encourages this freedom in our writing. There hasn't been a single assignment that I've dreaded, and I've wanted to share my work with others more than I ever have in the past. I'm actually very proud of what I've produced.

My final post for the semester (and last assignment pertaining to this blog) really represents how far I've come as a writer, an analyzer of audience, and user of the various elements of literature. Look for it by Friday; the assignment was to write a piece on an issue that we care deeply about or is publicly controversial. It could be in the form of personal narrative, manifesto, or a position piece. After revising my draft of it, I have determined that it is a manifesto, as it shows an identity that I once aligned with as well as a new identity that I currently align with.

Pass the joint, the cheese puffs, and the legalization proposals

I think.... that there are basically two types of pot smokers out there. Type one smokes it because the effects take them far, far away from their troubled life. These people are sad or unhappy with their lives, and see no worth in their daily, lucid realities. They do it for the escape from the doldrums of planet Earth.

Type two... now these people really know what they're doing. They aren't escaping from the doldrums, they're enhancing their normal surroundings and seeing them in a completely different light. They are willing to release the constraints on their mind to let thoughts flow freely and, in doing so, come up with ingenious, exorbital ideas. These people communicate with their inner artist, painting mental and visual landscapes that can only be imagined by the expanded mind.

In a blog I viewed recently, the author proposes the argument that, while drug-war enthusiasts contend that more users will pop up if various drugs are legalized, you don't see legal consumers of alcohol sneaking around to obtain alcohol or making back-alley deals to get their fix. This is, as he argues, because it's legal. I find credibility in this argument. Alcohol is legal, yet not everybody partakes in its consumption. Advertisements urge people to be responsible with their choices, and many people are.

But these drug-war enthusiasts still insist- DRUGS ARE BAD! MORE USERS=BAD BAD BAD! Ok, I'm not an idiot. Many drugs are bad. But, consider the Europeans, for example: they are much more lax on their drug laws, most people who choose to use drugs are responsible about it, and the people who do abuse drugs are offered state-supported rehabilitation programs. There's something to be said about that.

Right now, I think the government should be less concerned with the problems linked to the recreational use of marijuana (death toll-practically zilch) and worry about their current state of affairs (total American deaths in war in Iraq as of 4.19.07, 3,315).




By the way, I'm a type two person.

Identity

"Our identities emerge from within a community, for communities produce identities: We discover who we are and what we have to say through life and dialog with others." -Catherine Hobbs

There's a snag in this quote, as true as it might be- which identity is the one we choose? After discussing our blogs today in class, I left with my mind near exploding. I ran through all the communities and subsequent identities I associate with, and ended up not actually knowing who I am. What a scary thought.... who am I? Shouldn't I know by now? Then I thought some more about it, and came to the conclusion that our identities are constantly shifting-hourly, daily, weekly, monthly... you get it. Take one of my typical days, for example:

-In the morning, I go to work. I am a drone who scoops I don't KNOW how many balls of cookie dough a day. I leave smelling of a bakery.
-I go to class, where I am a faceless student with no seeming identity. It is here that I must prove myself through my voiced thoughts, appearance, demeanor.
-I come back to my apartment, where I am a roommate. The music I play defines me, as well as the way I choose to decorate my surroundings.
-In the evening, my boyfriend is around. It's during this time that I believe I am most true to myself, tearing down the facades I put up during the day. I'm relaxed. We listen to music we've shared with each other and come to mutually enjoy. We feed our heads.

This hardly says anything about me in particular, but there are so many elements of identity wrapped up in a day that it's hard to say exactly who I am.
Here's who and what I'm not:
A sorority girl
A typical Miami student
Conservative
A junk food eater
A reality-show watcher

I do, however, wish I were more informed in the ways of politics and current events, I wish I were more fitness-minded, and....

I wish I were a bit more kinky.

We also talked in class about the narcissism of the college-aged generation and that that narcissism was brought about by our parents telling us we were special and unique. I wonder what the hell is wrong with being unique?! I think above all of my identities, striving for uniqueness tops my list. While most students at Miami have been equipped with daddy's credit card and therefore gird themselves with black Northfaces and fake tans, I try my hardest not to look like that.

Like everyone else.

How can these people be called narcissistic when they share their identities with everyone around them? I say more power to the "generation ME" people for recognizing that its good to be unique, different, and not like everyone else. I value my several identities, as confusing as they might be at times, and look forward to each opportunity I come across to acquire a new one.

The F-Word, Among Others

After reading several of the blogs of my classmates, I'm wondering why I have to be so damn poetic and introspective and serious. I think "oh, I've got something to say on the Internet, I want to sound educated so I'm credible, it's best that I not talk about stupid crap". No, it doesn't have to be that way to make a point. I read Mr. Blog's...blog (fitting, eh?) and realized that I too can sound competent while making a point. He upped his credibility by commenting on himself ("an introvert"), telling his readers about the (intelligent, informed) things he did over the weekend (watched a documentary about Enron), and using well-directed humor.

Others were willing to say "fuck" or "shit" or whatever it was they felt like saying at the time. I promise now that if I feel the need to curse, I will without abandon. What good is an anonymous blog if you can't be your true self, be it vulgar, shy, scared, whatever- it's ok. If there's any other space than your diary/journal to be your true self, then I think the incredibly and mind-blowingly expansive Internet is the way to go. So, fuck it, screw it, damn it all to hell- I've decided to say what I want because... who else is this really for but me?


By the way, that was an extremely exaggerated example. While I've found creative ways to twist obscenities in my 21 years, I understand the power of an eloquently-constructed piece of writing devoid of what I consider to be pretty crappy power words used just to take the easy way out. Which is better-"fucking pissed" or "exceedingly irate"?

The College Life

I am living the ultimate life right now. It took a while to come to that realization, but it's true. 4 years seemed like so long when I was a freshman, but now I know that 4 years is hardly enough to get it all in. During no other time of my life will I be able to intensely pursue higher learning for such an extended period of time, to live with my friends, to be on my own, to decide what I'll eat, when I eat, and how much I eat (no mom nagging at me, saying "don't you think you've had enough ice cream for tonight?")... all that good stuff. Oh, and who can forget the college-life weekends? Uptown on a Friday or Saturday night (who am I kidding? Nearly every night) is a buzzing hub of socialites, college kids looking for someone to dance with or to buy drinks for or... to go home with.

And that's accepted. Accepted because, again, who's going to tell them not to?

I have gotten past the point of going wild every weekend (insert dressed-to-the-hilt gaggle of freshman girls bumbling up the slant walk after pre-gaming in the dorm image here) and learned to enjoy a casual evening in the apartment with friends with no specified agenda for the evening. I've stepped back from myself and slowed down a little so I can savor this euphoric moment I'm in. I'm a junior. By this time next year I'll have applied to several middle schools for a teaching position. Soon after will be graduation. This is all going to come to a screeching halt soon, and I want make the most of it while I'm still here.

Plus, I'm 21 now. That opens a few more (bar) doors.

The whole college experience has truly shown me who I am and who I want to become. As cliche as that really is, its true. If anyone has the chance to go to college, and with scholarships and loans, anyone should be able to- they need to take it. It is such a critical time of growth and personal exploration. I could map my growth on a chart from year to year if I really wanted to, but I'm not that big of a nerd. I guess I'm just saying that this time in a person's life is just as transitional as puberty, and to provide this time period with an experience like college is like attaching wings to the soul. Right now I'm soaring, but I'll come down eventually.

But only long enough to find something else that lifts my wings and carries me away.

Greetings and Salutations

Hi, everyone. First post of my new blog. I'll explain just once where my title comes from, as well as my display name (whatever that might be... I'm sure I'll find out soon). "Chalk Dust Torture" is the title of a Phish song, as well as "Suzy Greenberg". The first song is about wanting to live life while you're young and leaving learning and all that good stuff for when you're old. The second one is just a sweet song.

I love Phish.

For blogging purposes, I'll use the title of my blog to indicate the direction in which I'm currently taking my life- I'm an education major at Miami University in Ohio, and I plan to teach middle school language arts and social studies. Suicide, some might say. But people say you've just got to be the right person for the job and it will feel right. So far, it feels right. I've had my doubts, but I've had many more moments of pure happiness, moments when I know I've chosen the correct path.

I'm not quite sure in what direction I'll be taking this blog, I'll have to sleep on it. Until then, I'll leave you (do I even have a "you" yet?) with links to the lyrics of "Chalk Dust Torture" and Suzy Greenberg" in case anyone is interested.

-SG
http://www.seeklyrics.com/lyrics/Phish/Chalk-Dust-Torture.html
http://www.asklyrics.com/display/Phish/Suzy_Greenberg_Lyrics/590825.htm