Of Two Minds

The distance between school and the subway stop is three long blocks. Three blocks is not very far to walk, but three long blocks stretch into an eternity. Three short blocks would be one thing, but, as far as i'm concerned, the difference between a long block and a short block is approximately half an hour. Over the course of three short blocks, one can only think something like "should i get cigarettes? yes. no. yes. no. well now i've passed the tobacco shop and now i'm at school." Over the course of three long blocks, by contrast, one has time to contemplate the very meaning of a cigarette. What does it mean if i smoke a cigarette now? Is it different if i buy a pack or bum one? Is it different if i bum one from a friend or a stranger? If i offer some money in exchange? Do i even want this cigarette in the first place? Why? Does it have something to do with a general fear of success or a fear of failure? Is it self-sabotage or escape that embodies itself in t

Act I: This is not my beautiful city. Day 3 of officially living in New York. I have found, so far, that as long as I choose to accept New York and everything it is, it continues to accept me and everything I am. As such, I think this will be a divine friendship. Don't get me wrong, I miss Seattle so so much. Every few hours I can't believe how horrible it is that I left my friends and family and home to get another degree. It's not like I was on a dead end track or anything. Listen, I know it's good that I'm back in school and it's totally fine to be far away again, it just seems like such a drain of resources when I could be on the west coast where plane tickets to Phoenix are not so expensive and where I can decide to drive down to see my dad or brother over the weekend. Beyond the existential, NY feels so different. It's too short to be downtown, too residential to be capitol hill, too busy to be SoDo. Not to mention, though they're both in Man

It's really weird to be back some place i used to spend so much time. I've been much more comfortable than I thought I'd be. While I was here, I was under such a high level of emotional and mental stress that I never really acknowledged that I was okay. Maybe not always happy, but always safe. Walking around the streets of Cambridge, unexpected memories have been flooding back to me. Not even super significant things just this acknowledgement that SO MUCH happened here. Countless life changes. Long opinion-altering conversations. There were so many reasons I would ditch whatever I was doing and go on a long walk. Or so many times over the summer we'd find ourselves trekking it across the city. There are so many restaurants and hole-in-the-wall stores i'd forgot about. So many personalities. So many hidden side-streets and beautifully decaying buildings. I'm glad I had enough time away from this place to be able to appreciate it as a home i had. It is excee

Today: Family Stuff + Raw Dinner Sunday: Sweet Crafts? + Matt Moves In Monday: Work Stuff Tuesday: Cakearoke at Highline Wednesday: More Sweet Crafts? + More Raw Dinner? Thursday: Helms Alee Friday: Soap Box + House Business Saturday: Soap Box Sunday: ?? Monday: ?? Tuesday: ?? Wednesday: Be Done Packing, PLZ Thursday: Fly to Boston oh geez.

brushing her hair out of her eyes. it's just -- he started -- that sometimes you say things that make me want to raise your children.

I love this city so much. I can't believe I'm already leaving it. I love the view of my apartment. How big the sky is over the Sound. The cool breeze. the music. THE PEOPLE my family my friends my neighbors. all the new folks i've met and will meet in the next few weeks. I'm really not ready to leave. I keep being told it will be here when I get back but two years is so long. I believe in what I'm going to go do and what I'm going to go study. I believe that New York is where I need to do it. I think living there will be an amazing experience. I believe I will grow to love it there too. But I've made a home for myself here. For someone so afraid of commitment I have a real need to nest. And I'm proud of myself for having done so. I could see myself living here right where I am for YEARS. But if I could be doing the work I want to do.... well, wouldn't that just be something?

Today is so weird. I feel so wiggly. But not with energy. I feel like I'm in FIGURE IT OUT boot camp. and i'm struggling struggling against it. I'm in a blanket burrito of change and growth and I HATE it HATE it! so I'm fighting against it but it's rolled so tight I can't get out! and if i would just relax it would be comfortable & nice . And then when I was ready I could unroll myself from my blanket burrito cocoon and then I could wear it like a cape! Or neatly fold it and put it away. And walk with my head held higher and my arms better huggers . But I don't know how/can't/DO NOT WANT TO STOP struggling struggling .

Thank you for attempting to articulate that which is difficult to articulate. I believe you very well may have.

I finally picked up one of your books. So many people I respect and adore think you're marvelous so I broke my once indefinite ban on male authors and picked up a book of short stories. Thus far, I'd enjoyed it. Interesting style and characters and all the other nice things people say about you. Today, I ran out to catch the last dregs of sunlight and read one. It was long and got cold while I was still pages from the end. Intrigued by the characters and wanting to get a sense of closure, I persisted. I may have lifted my ban too soon. I don't want to be too quick to anger, but is there anything at all enlightening in taking one of those cases of unacknowledged rape from the perspective of he who commits? Or perhaps, of course, it is not the responsibility of a writer to be enlightening. It is enough to just describe. Could more not have been done? You wrote it in a way that someone such as myself can see the underwritings of how women will often allow men to have se

She walked into her apartment to find her roommate clad in her junior high P.E. shorts and a bikini top, hair slicked up with coloring mousse. Her roommate was hunched over a tray in the sunny window of what she knew to be dehydrating raw "bread." "What are you doing?" she inquired of her roommate. "I'm quitting smoking," was the response. -- She went outside, walking through the crowded streets. She had done up her freshly-dyed hair and face. She wore a skirt, exposing her scarred calves, and a shirt that was quite obviously lingerie. She repeatedly tapped her right pointer finger against her left thumb and glanced around her. She smelled of body odor and lavender. A friend ran into her and asked "Hey, what are you up to?" Not making eye contact, she replied, "I'm quitting smoking..." and followed her own gaze into space. -- She ventured into a second hand shop. First she looked to see if there were any dining room tables.

1) I am 6 hours into not smoking and pretty much everything is already on my shit list. Exhibit A: all i want is for my hair to be a brown without brassy tones. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? I will dye my hair blue black if i have to! Exhibit B: Reiny & me "i mean, i don't know if they're all gonna want to have game night if they're just flying in." "oh, they will" "...are you sure about that? what do you mean?" "NAA NAA NAA QUITTING SMOKING IS AWESOME!" 2) My body has been trying to detox for weeks now. Normally one's lungs only try to clean themselves after you've quit for a few days. For the past few weeks my body has been trying to expel any loose phlegm it possibly can. Quoth Joe: It is too full of gunk. I don't think that's actually what Joe said. 3) So far this year, I've quit twice almost a month each. And I want practice not smoking before I go to grad school. Because who knows what that will bring. 4)

Most people start smoking in a similar fashion to how they start drinking. Some element of the social and/or it's easier to smoke than to deal with whatever's bothering you. I started more because of the latter. When I started smoking at college, only one other friend smoked and I managed to hide it from most of my friends and roommates for a full year. The summer I started smoking, I was fed up with over eating. So I made a deal with myself that if I wanted to over eat, I couldn't, but I could smoke a cigarette. In part, this was because it was exceedingly cost effective (a nicotine high is approx $0.50 whereas binging is typically $3-5 at a time, not to mention a good deal of self confidence). This was not quite brilliant but worked for awhile because I didn't want to start smoking. Instead, I would journal, but it didn't work forever. When school resumed, I figured out that smoking was the only thing that would lessen my otherwise staggering anxiety. Running,