it seems so very correct for this blog's 401st post to be its last.
then again, i have no particular connection with that number, but it seemed a regal thing to say.
citrus is out, anonymity is in.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 11:03 AM
Friday, July 02, 2004
I almost dislike summer vacation in a way because it cuts off my vital pipeline of sociality--school. I like school. Not to sit in classrooms, of course, but to talk to the people who are sitting around you in those classrooms. School also provides me the neccessary structure to remain hygenic--I shower, brush my teeth, comb my hair. In the great nothingness of summer even the necessecities do not register. Time has no effect. I'll eat breakfast while watching the evening news, and fall asleep sometime around noon.
In this way, I am given lots of time to drastically improve my abs and also become drastically boring. If I was feeling generous to myself I would say that I am boring out of circumstances, and not want; but the truth is that I lack the mere ambition to become un-boring. I could take a 4-hour bike ride up to Lake Michigan and go snorkeling. I could go to the Vines concert and sneak backstage. Or I could write in my notebook and do lots of sit ups.
My father was excited today about his long weekend, courtesy of our Founding Fathers. I was befuddled. Summer vacation is like one big long weekend, but the kind where the power goes out (albeit a bit warmer).
We used to live in a heavily wooded neighborhood, and whenever a classic west Michigan thunderstorm would hit we would lose power for days on end. A notable event was Labor Day weekend when I was in the seventh grade. The long weekend was spent in a cheap hotel because it was too cold to stay in the powerless house for over 7 days. I spent it huddled up in the bed watching a Lifetime movie and sipping McDonald's hot chocolate.
Happy Fourth of July to all of you. (Except, I suppose, to my international readers. Not that we're dis-including you, it's just that we're a bit embarrased of sharing our custom of God Blessing America as we blow things up with you.) Because it looks like my blogging will be sparse, here's an old-school hold-in-your-hands print edition of meredith's summer reading list:
Chronicle of a Death Foretold, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros
All The Names, Jose Saramago
Interviews with Hideous Men, David Foster Wallace
Franny and Zooey, J.D. Salinger
Fresh squeezed by melly at 11:45 PM
Thursday, June 10, 2004
My hair is gone, and so is Jimmy.
I cut six inches of it off last night, and he cut me off this morning. I said goodbye to both of them, and that was that.
It has been raining here all day. There are those who are literally dancing for the rain to end right now. Parties have been planned and the lies have been lied, and it would be a pity for all of that hard work to be shut down by nature instead of drama.
(I, while not partying, have got into the lying action--a friend of mine has told her parents that she's spending the night at my place, because I'm Nice and Safe and Such A Good Influence.)
My mother bought stamps today of that Mary Cassatt painting that hangs in our living room--the two little girls at the beach. She says it reminds her of her daughters, and I'm the one whose face is visible.
I'm envious of my sister, then, in her mysterious sunhat with the red ribbon. She is so much more romantic.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:47 PM
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
I'm not a very good summer school rebel. The most I could muster up was playing my iPod loudly enough so that everyone in the classroom could hear the strains of Beulah. And when I say everyone, I mean Jimmy.
Jimmy is the sort of kid that is friends with everyone but best friends with no one. His haircut is never fresh. His voice is nice, but not georgeous. His last name is hard to pronounce.
Jimmy is my hot summer prospect, and Jimmy is in my summer school class.
I'm not sure if he knows who Beulah is, although perhaps you don't either.
Inside the computer lab, the temperature was roughly 30 degrees, despite the 90 degree weather lurking just outside the sun filled window. Carla and I shivered our way through the basic questions of physical fitness (Frequency! Intensity! Time!) until lunchtime came and we panted under the shade trees as we ate our dry tortilla chips and pretended they were mangos.
I asked today why the flags were at half-mast, forgetting about the Ronald. In the NYTimes yesterday, there was a picture of a mourner bawling at the entrance to a makeshift memorial. I couldn't comprehend this. Not because it's wrong to grieve, but because I feel no emotional attatchments to celebrities, presidential or otherwise. Especially to presidents who served before I was born. The 60 minutes special was very nice, though.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 4:21 PM