tasty white girl.

to start, i’m not racist. but every time i go to a party (i am not embellishing) the single or maybe two black men find me, touch my hair, grab my butt, call me “a tasty white girl” (NOT KIDDING) and proceed to start dancing with me. this exact scenario happened tonight. this has happened multiple times at different parties. it’s not always “tasty white girl”, but sometimes “look at that hair”, or “hey sweetheart you like dark boys?”. i don’t know what it is. i’m thinking it really must be my hair, but like, come on. i was wearing a turtle neck and a sweater tonight. captain of the fucking chastity club.

it’s just annoying.

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run-on sentence world population one.

what’s a meteor? i fell and it fell we fell but not apart just down. i’m sitting at my desk my disorganized chaotic block of studying that i don’t use for studying a lot. there are tissues because my nose is running away far away from me. here’s some advice don’t let it whipcrack your life i mean i wouldn’t dare but especially not since the shins direct me not to (o how your sisters will write). four days till i go home back to my bed and my cat and oh yeah my family too can’t forget them love them too. drowning it’s funny that virginia beach drowned while i was at school i kinda wish i saw it but i missed it i missed the boat you could say like the one that crashed into sandbridge. goldenrod and the 4h dome that song is still the saddest one on shuffle that and milk thistle. i’m coughing coughing coughing and i keep thinking about the book that was written in this funny format even though it wasn’t real i like it it’s real to me. coffee and cloves and spite that’s all real sarcasm is real the world is real just like the guy said while he banged his drum at the poetry night isn’t it a miracle us being here just being alive. i think so i guess i had never thought about it before but sitting in that basement listening to words and beats and breathing help remind me of that joy the emotion that always seems to hide at things like poetry readings. i’m sifting through music the voices are dancing spinning right into my eardrum and leaving out of the other side ok maybe that was an embellishment but its real to me i swear its real like what i said before coffee and cloves and spite. i cannot wait to go home to see my loves my family and my other family the ones who play scattagories with me and laugh and sing and know me deep down so deep more then 8ft deep. hannah my sister my other soul my laughing bubbling beautiful best friend and andrew my perpetual personal singer my understanding car ride buddy my thousandth hug lightening bug and my brother the ever growing beanpole who is ever growing i don’t mean just in height and the deep thinker caleb always thinking making me think making the world turn just breathe breathe breathe and live we all just gotta live i want to see my people. i want to see them i want hugs i want games i want my dad’s cooking i want a lot. but i give a lot too. the reoccurring kind the reoccurring kind doesn’t come around anymore that’s ok i wouldn’t want that kind too anymore that kind is away gone dumped and kicked. it really did take me so long to figure out what this book has been about chapters and chapters of stumbles leading into full pages of flowery plains. i get it all now. i love mostly everyone and mostly everything but i still don’t really know what a meteor is.

dear vince,

today something on tv made me think of you. i wonder if you realized you were different. and i wonder if that hurt you, or if you just dealt with the hand you were played in life. i think you did. you made lemonade, you made the best out of everything. i don’t know if i could do the same. i don’t know if i would be able to laugh as much as you, if i had been in your place.

remember buster’s birthday? when we got life-size elvis cutouts and played burnin’ love all afternoon. you danced and clapped and had cake with buster’s group. you were always included, and if not, you included yourself. you made everyone happy vince. you really did. you used to hug your brother paul and scream with pure winnie-the-pooh coloring book fresh baked cookies joy. not many people that i know are capable of that much care. a lot of people could use a hug from you, i think.

remember walking through the halls of skillquest? you had friends there. everyone stopped to say hi to you. the nurses flirted with you and you flirted back. you were happy. i remember when i met you. you yelled a bit and gave me a high five and continued on your way. i liked that. that you just kept on your merry way no matter what or who happened in front of you.

vince, you don’t remember your funeral. but i do. i remember when marion called me and told me you were gone. i came in from swimming in my pool and my mom handed me the phone and my hands shook. my hands shook. i’ve experienced loss before, but the hole you left was big. your soul was wide enough for me and so many others to fall headfirst into. my hands shook and then you were gone.

the four of us left straight from skillquest, all piled into a van wearing black and looking down. danny, and sandy, and marion, and i drove to your funeral and sat together and the whole church seemed to sway for you. paul held my hand when i went up to get communion. your parents cried and laughed when those who loved you talked about you. i knew you for only a summer but they got you for a lifetime. a lifetime of hugs.

more people spoke at your burial ceremony outside. they cried for you, and they cried for paul because he lost his brother, and they cried for your parents because your parents lost a son. your mom and dad shouldn’t of been burying you. no parent should have to bury their child, their baby. but they were strong.you were only 24 years old. just about 5 years older than me at the time. just 24 and you were gone and your parents held hands and your mom rested her cheek on your father’s shoulder and my whole body shook, not only my hands.

at the end, after everyone spoke, the priest released two perfectly white caged doves into the sky. we all thought every tear had been squeezed from our eyes, but when the doves flew away the tears came back, they came harder than before. there is something about seeing something so pure and beautiful float into infinity that can bring a father, friend, mother, brother, therapist, lover to their knees. the priest let the doves fly away and we went home but i’ve never forgotten that. i wish you could see how beautiful it makes your memory. you are forever tucked into my mind wrapped gently in white, gliding away to a happier place where your earthly chains have no meaning. just love and high fives and hugs.

i miss you so much, and so often. and on nights like tonight, i wish i could find the serenity and truth i know you had tucked inside of your heart while it was beating. i wish i could see you, give you a hug, show you the doves, be your friend again.

love always.

the whole pole & 44th street.

i need 49 pages of writing to detail how much i miss bryn and cole. seriously. the only people in this world who can make me cringe at how much more inappropriate they are than me. that’s goddamn heroic.

this summer was one of incessant shenanigans. such as: cole and i driving around virginia beach aimlessly trolling for undateables. and remaining single. i won’t go into the places we stopped, but let’s just say that there are a few napkins with a few numbers stuffed inside a few returned DVDs. (uuullllggg)…

or being at bryn’s house and drinking (fruit punch) on the beach with rob & jake & bowen & eastah. and then the next morning going on the boat on which cole and i refused to get our hair wet but instead took glamor shots in the front.

or when poor baby bwyn was incredibly high from getting her wisdom teeth taken out and looked like a baby chipmunk and cole and i went in search of skinny dip which we fatly ate.

LIFETIME MOVIES. we made so much fun of those poor people.

god i just miss two both okay!? my other halves.

happy birthday brynnie. i love you SO much, can’t wait to see you both…

what i said before,

i meant it. my back is breaking.

Babar.

“The Babar the Elephant book is sitting in front of me. I pick it up and start reading it. I remember reading it as a small Boy and enjoying it and pretending that I was friends with Babar, his constant Companion during all of his adventures. He went to the moon, I went with him. He fought Tomb Raiders in Egypt, I fought alongside him. He rescued his elephant girlfriend from Ivory Hunters on the Savanna, I coordinated the getaway. I loved that goddamn Elephant and I loved being his friend. In a childhood full of unhappiness and rage, Babar is one of the few pleasant memories I have. Me and Babar, kicking some motherfucking ass.”

-A Million Little Pieces, James Frey

the blue period led to the rose period.

so i was just thinking about times when i’ve been sad tonight. because there are people around me and far away from me that are sad, hurting, isolated, or scared. all of those words that give meaning to all of those emotions that seem so lonely. they choke you just to read them, i bet. they choke me.

the reasons i was and am thinking of my own personal past sadness was because i was reading the psychological disorders chapters (or “modules” as they are officially called) in my textbook tonight. it is not because i am presently sad. i went on a run tonight with hugh & ansley so my endorphines are actually making me pleasantly reflective. in case you guys were wondering about my current emotional balances.

anyways, what i as saying. i guess, when other people are sad, especially the ones close to me- it tears at me. gently, so that i can hardly feel it. but i can. because i think my empathy-o-meter is always on high, which actually isn’t very heroic at all (empathygirl: da da daduh! —no thanks). a lot of times i just feel bogged down with the mist of everyone else’s emotions.

but i guess sadness is one of those emotions that devours us in its lessons. it really can inspire some of the most beautiful writing i my eyes have ever read. sadness makes someone profound. it makes them deep and alone, caught up in the ugly truth of who they are when they have no one else around, when they are in their own beds and the lights are off and there are no bodies or toys or books or god or happiness to keep them occupied. i like sadness. it makes being more tangible. when i’m happy i have to pinch myself sometimes to make sure i still know how to wince.

i guess i just need to say a few things now, transitions are out my dorm window tonight.

if someone made me six cakes and then compiled them into one pumpkin masterpiece- i would readily hug them. or appreciate them in some way (that was not sexual, you deviants). perhaps, eating the pumpkin cake with them. or pretending to carve it out like you would with a real pumpkin. maybe just being around instead of the aforementioned baker having to take comfort in the same genes, different person. because it’s not the same. i’ve done it too.

and if i got in a car crash, i would be afraid. but i would get out of the car. i know it.

and. i don’t know. i’m done. this was shorter than i had planned. here’s one more thing:

whenever i see the cleaning staff around campus, i now am going to make a conscious effort to stop for at least a few seconds and say hi. especially the one lady who cleans the floor at duke hall that i see sometimes on my way to art history. she seems so alone, like everyone in the little JMU college student bubble is just passing her by with no notice. i don’t want her to feel invisible. i don’t want to feel invisible if my career ended up as cleaning the floor of duke hall. i don’t. i’m gonna say hi. i wonder if she has a husband or grandkids.

and also, i do not think majoring in english would be a really big waste of someone’s time.

writing about other people’s sadness makes me sad. i’m not wincing and i told you so.

big twisty dirty angry ball of nothing.

it sits dormant. i always think its dead, gone, floating away for an infinite amount of time. but it never does. it just hides. i don’t know why i can’t get rid of it. everyone else seems to. no one seems to have it. but i do.

it doesn’t have a name. it doesn’t deserve a name. it is an odalisque. a fantasy. a burden, and a joke. i don’t even have time to write about it. i don’t have time to dwell. so it goes back to being dormant.

i think sometimes the only voices that i can hear are the ones who say nothing at all. i want to hear nothing. and to whom it may concern, the thing that made you feel should make you feel nothing now. it is, you are, i am, nothing.

how to turn a light off in copper beech.

so don’t worry about this title. or the picture that was sent with it. or the caption of aforementioned picture. let’s just agree that i lead a delicate and conservative life. and that’s all i will say about eric’s 21st birthday bash. just kidding, i’m about to say a lot more.

on the eve of saturday, october 24th, lauren, hugh, & i traveled with friends to our babygirl dana’s christmas-lit apartment in the lovely complex of ashby. we enjoyed music by some stupid indie band (cool dana) and then britney, girltalk, and of course katy perry. because those are the “hip” artists that everyone loves to interpretive dance to these days. and, oh, how we danced. the pepper grinder, lauren’s infamous skips, and so much more. more crew members showed up to dana’s house and the festivities continued. a highlight for me was going out on dana’s porch and overhearing some really awesome guys below us say to eachother, “man we just gotta get laid tonight. we just gotta put it to them.” SO COOL & NOT CREEPY.i hope the girls they were talking (strategizing?) about kicked him where it counts.

so anyways, post-eavesdroppation, we gathered ourselves enough to walk to john’s car and pile in. oh wait, we couldn’t all pile in because his little baby suspension can’t handle it so he made two trips. and just as a side note, he hadn’t been drinking so all you who thought you had me- shove it. i stand by my angry posts (see below). we got to eric’s and it was PACKED. actually it was barren. i mean it was early, but still, come on guys. the dance floor was absurdly empty… which was perfect for ansley, hugh, colleen, & the other crew/dance team members. eric, the birthday boy, forced us into doing t-shots out the wazoo, which just makes for a messy night. but a good one. in a moment of fleeting judgement, i danced with someone atop a coffee table with a glass pane in the middle which promptly broke and my leg found itself on carpet. not my whole leg like it got cut off, either. just my foot. i can’t describe the event well. luckily, only my toe was hurt (somehow?), so i count my blessings.

later on, lauren and i went upstairs to use the ladiez, and apparently while i was admiring my facial expressions in the mirror, she grabbed a souvenir from the poor, unsuspecting guy’s room. which is hilarious because she had zero qualms about it last night, but this morning upson waking up totally deplored her clepto-self. so i guess that it is ok, because of all the remorse. right? yeah? please? unforgivable.

after lauren snatched her goods, she and i decided that we needed a little rest from all the action. apparently so did eric. or maybe its because he could not move. either or. so, the 3 or maybe 4 of us took a power nap in his room while hugh ran frantically through the house in search of the ‘friends’ he believed had ditched him. but oh no. we were only sleeping. finally, we made it to the bus stop and back to lauren’s dorm. upon returning, hugh announced he HAD to get to the bathroom and took off for about 15 minutes. little did we know, we was riding the elevator up and down and attackin’ the vending machines in search of munchies. which we then munched and passed out. but picture this: hugh sitting cross-legged in an elevator eating cheese nips. it just brightens my life, such a good image.

all in all, saturday night was deemed a great success & truly the weekend overall was a wonderful, exciting, chaotic slice of time in our lives. it’s these weekends that make you appreciate working your @$$ (for you, caleb) off during the week.we did miss ansley saturday night though. our missing puzzle piece was so fah away. it’s ok, we have all year(s) to reenact.

i do have to apologize to my family for not being the dependable daughter they wish they had. i still got to see my family though (and most likely succeeded in scaring them off till thanksgiving break which is sad), and hang out with my beautiful mini-me lauren. and make inappropriate jokes with my brother. and see the marching royal dukes KILL IT during the band competition. they make me so proud. so does my bro… in only a matter of years you could be out there liam thomas horatio alger sargent.

and if you are wondering where the title of this entry comes from, I’M NOT TELLING AND NEVER WILL. some things that happen at jmu have to stay at jmu. where we all get it.