I was offline for a few days this week. It was a good chance to reflect, though unplanned and unwanted.
I can spend time by myself and stay fairly entertained. That was good. I’m reading a wonderful book, though it’s overdue at the library. I will get there on Tuesday, and I have an interview for an internship that day. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I’m really hoping this will work out because it will be engaging and challenging. I could use something engaging and challenging right about now.
I’ve also been thinking that I am not flexing my Chinese muscles nearly enough, so I may undertake a lyrics translation project on my livejournal. If that goes anywhere, I’ll be sure to update.
There’s a book I stumbled across, a blank book with a Star Trek cover. I got it as a gift at a kid’s Bat Mitzvah ages ago, and I used it during high school through my first year at Hampshire. I used it to keep track of people in my life, to try and remember little bits about people, especially from ESP and also from the musical theater stuff I used to do. Apparently I hugged more people than I remember. I didn’t read the messages from West Side Story until a long time after the production (that was from the summer of 1995, just before I started at Hampshire).
Hopefully I will track down the stuff people wrote me when I was in Spain. I only tracked down one poem Carolina gave me just before I left. At some point one summer I will have to go back to El Barraco near Avila. It’s such a beautiful place beside the mountains in a bit of valley with so many great pockets to pass time. If nothing, just to take in the huge party for La Paloma in August, late night revels in farm fields singing and clapping out amazingly complex rhythms, riding motorcycles and outrunning wild dogs while avoiding the goat herders.
Another little notebook contains poetry and thoughts I wrote while I was in high school on through my second year at Hampshire… pretty depressing stuff really. I suppose I was a moody sort, not that I’m radically different, I just venture into communication more often and definitely feel much better for it. I’ll close this up with a little retrospective poem that I still like, despite dark implications:
to spread the body to its fullest extent
Recoil, and extend again
Yet somewhere the story grows weak and the body grows cold and limp