collegiate diversion

There was this really great quality to today - like there’s so much out there, so much that extends beyond the nearsighted focus on one’s problems. “One” being me, or you, or anyone we know. Collectively. Doesn’t that sound nice? This pronoun ensures such security, like we weren’t alone today, right? WE were in it -

TOGETHER.

Consider the antecedent: it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. And each morning is a struggle. But for the most part, everyday of our lives we are succeeding. We wake up, don’t we? We get out of bed and fix our hair? Now, I may not brush it or even wash it, but hell, we are trying in spite of the apparent.

Was today so great? What was so great about today? What was so great about the day was this presence of triumph. We lived. We tried. And okay, yeah, we did it. Kind of.

Look, I’m not saying today was easy. Really, I commend you. A pat on the back. But pat back the childish action and I’ll really tell you, it was only by the grace of such powerful and compelling arguments in my subconscious that I convinced myself to even move from mattress to floor to class.

You know that kind of argument. The kind that screams at your being when another restless night ends with one agonizingly loud and screaming alarm.

I’ll share my wake -

ENTER SCREAMING ALARM.

Me - “ugh.”

Subconscious - Argument 1: You have to go to French class, no matter how much you hate it. You need to pass this class for your GPA, for your future, so you can grow up and flower and flourish into a worthwhile existence. Think career.

Me - “grrrrrrr.”

Subconscious - Argument 2: You need to look nice for school, you’ll see some people today who you need to convince of your greatness.

Me - “ahhhhhh, five more minutes, please!”

Subconscious - Argument 3: You have to be present and presentable, because today you’re going to handout your music demo with confidence and grace.

Me - “yeah, okay, I guess, I’ll get up, just shut up, will you?”

Eight minutes later, okay, fine, I’m up already! But then the day was so much more fruitful then thught, then I had expected - how surprising! Thank you professor, thanks friend, thanks some for a beautiful day in Ithaca.

I say that with some cynicism, because we often are cynical. But looking beyond the grime, there was some clarity to the day.

……………………..

……….

I reflected on the day during my politics class. I turned some pages over in my notebook and began to etch into the paper my realization.

I thought the sound I heard was the scratching of my pen, under the booming voice of my prof. But only when it stopped, did I realize how empty I felt without that other sound: this student’s sharpie moving fast over the outside of her notebook. Some sort of all-black goth decor this feminist-with-a-bull’s-rin

g-through-her-nostrils three seats over had figured out. Hmm.

But what a sound! I was just so amazed that I had found such comfort in the white EH EH EH noise. And how amazing, how deafening the lack of background noise when she stopped! I mean, wow, weird that I was so zoned in on her.

Now I know how that old-couple from Niagra Falls felt when they moved to quiet San Antonio. They had to move back to NY, not enough whishy-washy FSSSSHHHHHH in the background from the furious waters.

……………………..

……….

Something else today, something maybe you can help me figure out. I did my work in the library and was on my way to the dining hall for something to eat. I opened the door, and surprisingly acknowledged the beautiful autumn day. I typically resort to my melancholy-self of hating beautiful weather when I’m in a strange funk, but my pattern allowed this sort of taken-aback “Oh god, how great,” rush. thing.

Do I sound lame?

Then I noticed this girl noticing this turning tree in the courtyard…I wondered what she was doing, what she was holding her hands.

For the record, I don’t think this girl is lame.

Almost in a trance, I just marched right up to that tree to see what was going on. Upon arrival, I saw these tens of crisp white notes buried in the red and green foliage, tied to the tree. It was so stunning and even prettier then I can describe. Just random and fascinating.

Each one of these notes had a typed message to bear, and each note was different, so I methodically walked around the tree, intrigued by each word.

• “I love the you in you.”
• “Let’s go to any place you want to go, as long as it’s deep inside.”
• “Make love with me.”
• “I want to know you, you’re so worth knowing.”

It didn’t seem sexual in it’s intent at all, although it may come across that way in this note, it was more so poignant. Embracing, Empowering. Something…I’m not sure. I wished I had thought up something that precious in sentimental value.

But I suppose that’s my goal in each day, to find a new idea. But for the most part, I just listen and observe and then write about what I saw with a slant in my ow tongue. Is that weird? Or unoriginal? I’ve been accused of it before. Oh, to be clever.

Regardless, I lived it today. In spite of everything that WE hated about it…

****BONUS BLOG****

And then there’s always the pool of knowledge that came from the day, lectures and speeches I often take for granted for the sake of that great ol’ GPA. But strangely, their words were applicable to something outside the classroom.

SELECT EXCERPTS FROM THE DAY:

( Prof. of Art critiquing my painting on canvas, so much that I had to re-paint an entire portion to re-adjust. And me being discouraged.)

“Just because it’s changed it doesn’t mean it’s lost. That’s what’s so powerful about painting, you control your own canvas. You get comfortable placing the paints, shaping and shadowing your image. But it’s about power, it’s about self-esteem. When you’re in control, you have to accept that your domain won’t be perfect. But you have the opportunity and the power to change it.”

(A personal conversation between a Prof. of Communication. Us being concerned for the other. And discussing some existential supreme lifestyle.)

Him - “I always thought that was the point, that there was no point. Looking for the answer your whole life, and then you never do find it.”

Me - “But I want to know is when I will know that point! When do I find it? An hour before my death?”

Him - “I don’t think you ever find it. I think the looking is what the humans call ‘living.’”

(And then a further discussion about objectivity.)

“There is always something so seductive about bias, this drug to put out your opinion, and that’s where I worry in my teaching. How do I show this point? How do I eleborate without interjecting my own feeling? It torments me.

(And then some moving advice.)

Him - “You need to find a way to enjoy just being with you. You know how lucky you are to have only yourself? So many people have to wait in line but you have you, 24.7. Go grab a sweater, go to the pond at dusk, just in twilight because that’s the most beautiful time of day, and appreciate the beauty. Cry for it. Feel something so you’re not always stressing about work and your personal anxieties. Just feel that beauty.”

Me - “That sounds amazing. Do you do that?”

Him - “Sure, sometimes.”

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