Archive for August, 2009

High On Life

I have begun my first semester as a nearly full-time pre-vet undergrad. This is the first time that IUPUI has recognized incoming freshmen as a class intent to graduate within four years (that’s not something we typically aspire to here at IUPUI). So, here I am in these freshman level Biology and Chemistry courses with this Class of 2013, as they are called.

My first class this week was actually a tennis class I signed up for in order to fill a small hole in my schedule, and to give me yet another hobby (as if I need that). The first day of classes are always pleasant to me because I enjoy the awkward silence as everyone sits around not knowing each other and not wanting to speak at all. We all sat together like this waiting for our tennis instructor to arrive on Wednesday morning.  I looked around me at the well-worn rackets sitting next to these teenagers with fresh faces. I’m clearly the oldest of this group, though thankfully I don’t think that is obvious to anyone but myself. I’m wondering how I am going to pretend that it hasn’t been 12 years since I tried to play tennis. And how I’m going to reconcile the fact that most of my classmates were about 6 or 7 years old the last time I tried to play tennis. I’m hardly aged, but it’s strange to notice myself beginning to think in these terms. I suppose that if worse comes to worse and I embarass myself and end up feeling like a slow achy old woman, then I can always brandish my racket and yell “I have a college degree!” and that should make me begin to feel superior once again.

Our tennis instructor never showed. We sat around for a full 45 minutes, during which I absent-mindedly picked up a copy of Better Homes and Gardens to pass the time. I don’t know why there was a copy of Better Homes and Gardens at the tennis center, but there it was. So I flipped through it, and it was 60% ads, and 30% bad remodeling ideas, and about 8% barely interesting articles about landscaping. Just as I was about to chuck it in disgust, I came across an article aimed at parents. The article was meant to warn parents about the ease of purchasing drugs over the internet. However, I found it more enlightening and persuasive than anything else. I’m not exactly in the loop about these kinds of things, but I hadn’t considered the possibility of ordering drugs online and having them shipped straight to my door, as was explained so insistently in the pages of this magazine. The article not only tells you how easy it is, but goes on the say that there is no policing of the internet, so it’s safe. In addition they give you a short but informative description of the online drugs available and their effects. I’m thinking–this article sounds more like an advertisement than an admonition. I wonder how many lonely bored SAHMs picked up this article and started thinking about how easy, how safe, and how efficient it would be just to do a little browsing and have a little recreation shipped right to their doorstep.

Maybe none, but the thought of it amused me. And I was curious. So when I got home I did a little research. I wanted to know if it were really as easy as they said it would be to have drugs shipped to my house (“just a few clicks of the mouse!” or “within minutes!”). My initial search came up with a lot of “legal marijuana” for sale, hybrids and herbal cigarettes and whatnot. But no, if this article were legitimate then I should be able to get something highly illegal brought to me. So I kept searching. I went from one link to another, following hints and sending some emails to get links to other sites which linked to still other sites and more emails and finally, after jumping through several hoops in this manner, I have ended up with an email contact of a man in the Netherlands and a “menu”. But as of yet no address to send money and an order. Getting drugs online is clearly possible but not what I would call easy. And so my search ends, because I am not willing to waste the time of someone who seems very wary of what they are doing (with good reason) in order to inquire about something that I have no interest in acquiring. I’m only interested in wasting my own time in order to give my curiosity a reasonable amount of satisfaction.

And no, I won’t give you my contact’s email address 🙂

And thus concludes my adventures of my first half-week back in college. By this time next week I should be considerably less relaxed, considering that my three classes consist of seven different parts, in seven different buildings, at varying times each and every day, which means leaving at a different time and parking in a different part of campus every time I drive to school, which will be twice a day two days a week and once a day the other three. Not a routine that can be easily slipped into. But it will all be worth it in the end, right?

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This past weekend was my last before starting the fall semester. I decided, just a tad spontaneously (which for me means about a week of planning), that I would head to Louisville for part of the weekend to visit my best friend Rebecca.

I’ve known Rebecca for 12 years now. Even though our adult lives have developed quite independently from each other (there were times when I hadn’t even contacted her through email in several months), we have somehow managed to end up with similar beliefs and similar taste in just about everything.

So it was a real treat to get to spend the weekend at her house, simply blending in a bit with the daily life of her little family. It’s not often that you can make a special trip to visit somebody and not feel rude for curling up in an armchair with a good book. At any rate, not only did I get to see my best friend, but I got to see my other wonderful friend Catherine, who happens to be Rebecca’s sister, and to spend some time with Catherine’s small but growing family. And to add to that, on Sunday I got to go to MY sister’s marching band performance, and spend some time with her as well.

Coming home Sunday I was toting not only the memories of the past 48 hours, but also some borrowed movies, new music, a great book I picked up at her house, and even a few adorable items of clothing that probably won’t end up fitting me, but that’s beside the point.

Merry Christmas to me!

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Let the Musings Begin

I’m sitting here pondering, trying to conjure up an idea of just what has compelled me to begin this blog. Here, now, at this point in my life when everything seems poised in a beautifully delicate balancing act. I suppose it has something to do with my need for self-expression. Since graduating from art school over a year ago I have lost something that I had readily available for six years. I still draw occasionally, I still think about art constantly. But I no longer show my art to the world (or some very small part of it). That fire of creativity still burns within me, and affects everything I see and do in life. It’s time to reclaim my ability and my privilege to show what I see and tell what I know.

Because I find I have a lot to say. Because I see the world in a unique way and because my solitary nature renders it unlikely that you will ever know these things I write of unless I put it here for you to see. Because I’m a good writer, and I want to be better with practice. Because I could improve my ability to be open and honest. Because, after perusing the blog of someone I hardly know, I find that openness is appealing, and healthy, and a way to connect with other people in unpredicted ways.

Because my life as I know it hangs in this delicate web; balanced for the moment, full of promise, but never a promised thing. I feel the need to capture what I can of it, not for the sake of looking back but for the sake of seeing it NOW. Of knowing, realizing, that it’s there and I am here and I am spinning, suspended in a spinning universe.

Because I am easily amazed by Big Thoughts and Little Things. Because the way a flower transforms into a compact living packet of seeds within the course of a summer can render me speechless. Because my terrible mood can be transformed by a momentary sighting of local wildlife. Because ideas move me, and art moves me, and music moves me, and writing causes me to be shockingly aware of everything I have inside of me.


So, being unreligious in the conventional sense, and certainly not a Christian, it may seem strange that my blog name includes the word “Christmas”. I have mulled over whether or not to let this remain a mystery, but then I remind myself that one purpose of this blog of mine is to pull back that shroud of mystery that I so often clasp about myself. The truth is, I came up with the phrase a couple of years back while working on a project for an art class. It is something of a personal philosophy: this idea that spectacular things happen every day; that I have an obligation and a sheer need to notice and grasp every moment that causes each day to be special. Christmas time is a time of thoughtfulness, awareness, love and gratitude, reflection, gift-giving and receiving, and looking forward to a new year a clean slate. I know people who say that they don’t believe in Christmas, but rather they believe that any day is it’s own excuse to give a gift, receive a gift, visit someone you haven’t seen in a long time, send a card, give to charity….all of these ideas and more are summed up in my belief that Christmas is all around us. But when it comes down to it, I just want to be aware and appreciative of every pleasant surprise, no matter how small, that may happen across my path on any given day.

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