Moveit.

I'm all about fresh starts. If you follow my things, follow me here: summerlove.

It might be time...

...for me to begin blogging again. Why? Because I have more time, but also because I think my brain-sicles are clotted up from not getting my thoughts out. I've always been the journaling type, and lord knows I've been blogging since before it was even called blogging (does anyone remember opendiary.com?).

But since my creativity has been blocked by extensive (and even excessive) forays into theory and academia, I need to get those juices flowing in whatever ways I can.

And if it's by blogging, then goddammit, I will blog.

I ain't goin' down...

...I'm just trying to remember what's good.

Coming out of the closet.

I admit it. I still love Mariah. I don't care, she's still hot. She's still classy, she's still saying things like "You're delusional" and "all fired up with your Napoleon complex" in her songs and it sounds hot. She came back from a breakdown, a bad album (hello Charmbracelet) and an ill-advised film (Glitter?). The woman adapts and I love her.

I especially love this:

Not the official video, but it's the only version of the song I could embed. I like the comment: "poor Mariah she is still a silly waitress."

So anyway. The secret's out.

I DO exist!

Hello, my namesake, Rachel Grey, daughter of Cyclops and Jean Grey. How bad ass is she. I've known about my namesake's existence for quite awhile, but never felt the need to look her up until my brother came across her in one of his issues of Uncanny X-Men.

So there is my doppelganger. There should be a word for the you that you are as a superhero.

wind(ing).

The fruits of my visit home have been plenty. Some nuggets include:

-a hike with my brother up to a waterfall that entailed me trying to cross a creek by balancing on a log. We'll say that it ended with me slamming my face into a rock, banging up my leg, filling my shoes with water and getting algae all over my shirt.

-impromptu visit to the town of my birth, which involved fifteen minutes of driving around trying to find a bathroom. The park is much smaller than I remember it being.

-reliving my pre-adolescent/adolescent years by reading old journals. For a few days there, I felt neurotic, insecure and hormonal. Oh wait -- I think that's just my PMS. HA.

-deciding that coming back for a month and a half is far too long.

Though the past month has been excruciating, I will say that it's given me perspective. It's reminded me of who I was and who I am, and that's what I needed.

Now I just have to survive 2 more weeks...

i <3 women.

especially these ones:



God, I love female badass-ery. It makes me want to cry tears of joy. Maybe one day my sarcasm will allow me that.

lolligagging.

I should probably stop spending my evenings looking at pictures of my friends' babies on facebook. I'm such a sucker. Kittens and babies.

But really... really, there's nothing wrong with loving kittens and babies. Loving is okay.

And Michael... I'll love you forever.

Toward the light.

Man, I need to read me a New York Times. And fast.

Having coverage of Farrah Fawcett's "last hours" on The View, complete with montages and interviews with Barbara Walters just isn't cutting it. In fact, it makes me a little nauseous. Yes, let's televise someone's journey toward the light, shall we? And let's also talk about how her son has "addiction issues" while she's dying, and let's also talk about how her family refuses to tell her that her son, along with having "addictions" was also in jail.

Let's all remember Farrah for what she really stood for: feathered hair. (Kidding!)

Rest in peace, Farrah. You will be missed.

The wonder of summer

My summer obsessions include the following:

1. Martha Reeves and the Vandellas. After my Motown summer class, I've concluded that Martha Reeves would kick Diana Ross's ass any day. Seriously though, Martha's voice is amazing. If you haven't heard her before, check out "(Love is Like A) Heatwave" and "Come and Get These Memories". Youtube her too. Incredible.


2. Smokey Robinson & the Miracles. What I love about Smokey is his incredible voice.
Check out "Ooo Baby Baby" for reference.


3. Wonder Woman. Mostly because of my recent foray into Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe, but also because I'm beginning to love goddesses.


4. New Young Pony Club's Fantastic Playroom. I realize I'm about two years late on this one, and I don't give a shit. I still love it and I'm listening to it forever.


In other news though, I am back with the parents in Nevada. It's good to see mountains again, although the whole we-don't-get-the-New-York-Times thing is a little old. Hopefully a trip to the beach will be in order soon because I just bought 4 bathing suits for no particular reason, other than Victoria's Secret made them look irresistible. I may or may not have a problem.

a real-ish post.

So I suppose this deserves an update of some kind, some kind of ordering of words that provide a view of what my life is like at the moment.

Today is a Thursday. I'm in the middle of a week full of tumult brought on by the instability of hormones, which is always makes for a good time and uncontrolled and uncontrollable crying. So I think I will make a list of my new favorite things.

1. I have been converted to baseballism, thanks to World Baseball Classic marathons. I rooted for Japan, because yes, it's true, I *do* have a crush on Ichiro. I won't justify it, I won't gush, because it's self-evident how amazing he is.



Also, Yu Darvish reminds me of my little bro for some reason.




2. Anthony Bourdain. I tend to overdose a little bit, but at the moment, reading A Cook's Tour and watching No Reservations are the only ways I can ground myself and get some perspective on life. Though recently, I've come to the conclusion that he might be irritated briefly by my cheery personality (see S.Korea episode), but I'd win him over, I'm sure.



3. Jo Koy. YouTube him. Watch this video. 'Nuff said.

I'm going to go try to dig my happiness out of my 10th floor windowless carrel now.

maybe.

maybe it's time to come back.

existence.

Did you lose your virginity in your own bed?
Not so much my bed, but a flattened cardboard box in an alley...



What was your first alcoholic beverage?
It might have been a margarita or a martini... everything got a little blurry after we got to the rave that night.

How old were you when you first smoked weed?
I didn't so much smoke it so much as dealt it from the age of 10 on...

Have you ever lived with your girlfriend/boyfriend?
If by boyfriend/girlfriend, you mean cats, then yes.

Have you ever taken someone back after they've cheated?
At cards? Hell no.

Have you ever thought about killing someone in detail?
No. I'm all about theoretical and vague homicide.

If you married the first person in your text inbox, what would your last name be?
Skeezebucket. Pronounced "Skayz-boo-kay."

Have you ever peed while on the phone?
All the time.

What do you have pierced on you?
Once, at a hockey game, I overheard, "Hey, so are you still going to pierce your hip...?"

What do you have tattooed on you?
My heart.

Do you own porn?
Tons.

Have you ever been on a blind date?
A gentlewoman never tells.

What reality shows do you watch?
I don't really watch them, but I do follow myself around with a video camera and narrate my own life. That counts, right?

When is the last time you saw fireworks?
With that sexy barista the last time I ordered coffee.

Do you remember your first favorite song?
I wanna dance with somebody, whitney houston. Either that or Father Figure by George Michael.

Are you taller than your mom?
I am a giant.

Favorite fruit?
Of the loom.

What was your first screen name?
It's a secret. Mostly because I have early onset Alzheimer's and can't remember.

What are you planning on doing after filling this out?
Eating some food, dancing around my apartment, packing. Getting rid of the bodies in my closet so they don't stink up the place while I'm gone.

Have you dated anyone on your top?
Like my boobs?

What would happen if you had a baby with the last person you kissed?
It wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen.

Do you sleep on your stomach?
I use it for a pillow sometimes.

Are you dating the last person you kissed?
That's enough of these questions.

Have you ever broken someone's heart?
I'm a heartbreaker.

What are you listening to?
John Mayer. it's not my fault, it's the guy who runs the coffee shop's fault.

Next time you will kiss someone?
Perhaps never when I tell them that I have a herpes outbreak in my mouth.

Have you ever injected a drug?
All the time.

Who are the people you would do anything for?
My fam. My peeps.

Who did you spend the most time with yesterday?
Me & my friends who work at Seattle Grace.

When was the last time you felt like your heart was actually breaking?
It's a condition with me. So all the time.

Do you get along better with the same sex or opposite?
They're both a bunch of crazies.

Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a C?
Every letter of the alphabet.

Are you happy with your life at the moment?
Always.

What is something you disliked about your day?
When I walk around outside, it feels like I forgot to put on my pants because it's so damn cold. I might as well be walking around pantsless outside.

Last time you talked to your number one?
TOO LONG!!!!! (seriously!)

Would you ever live with anyone on your top friends?
If by live you mean dance with, then hell yes.

Your current relationship status?
Check my myspace or my facebook. It knows better than I do.

Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?
Let me sit you down and tell you a little story about adolescence...

Do you currently hate someone?
Only one. And he's dead now, so I guess no.

What are/were you doing at 12 this afternoon?
Buying shit.

Have you ever gotten a sunburn so bad it hurt to move?
Yes.

What is bothering you right now?
Do you really want to go there?

Have you ever read an entire book in one day?
I don't read.

If you could move to Africa, would you?
Maybe not move. I might want to check it out first, make sure I'm not allergic to lions or anything.

How long would it take you to walk home from school?
I don't walk.

What do you have to do tomorrow?
Wake up at 5 in the morning, go to an airport that looks straight out the Jetsons, climb into a steel tube and hurtle miles above the atmosphere at hundreds of miles an hour for about 4 hours.

What were you doing at 9 this morning?
Mentally preparing to run errands, and by that, I mean sleeping.

How's your heart?
I sewed it back together yesterday.

(re)turn.

Well, I'm almost officially finished with my first semester of grad school. It's been terrifying, insanely fun, insanely heartbreaking and, as always, fullfullfull of change.

I find myself longing for my old contexts, for my old spots in Spokane, even for Nevada at times. I miss my good friends, my old friends, the ones who love me no matter how many bad or good decisions I make. I beyond excited to go home to them, in all the places that they are. I feel like liquid without a container frequently. My friends and my family remind me of who I was, remind me of who I am now. I haven't changed that much. I think that since being here, since realizing that applying to MFA programs and moving to Bloomington are the first things in my life that I have done selfishly, entirely for myself -- since I've realized this, I've become more myself.

I'm definitely not who I was six months ago, and I don't make the best decisions, but I'm making decisions. I'm being honest with myself and I'm facing myself. No matter what, I'm in love with my life, and though I wander, I am not lost. And if I am lost, I'm going to enjoy the scenic route, darlings.

a break in the chaos.

So here I am. Sitting in the IMU building, one of the largest student unions in the world. I've exploded yogurt all over my black shirt, but that's only one of many awkward things and moments I've maneuvered myself into over the past couple weeks.

The past two weeks -- orientation and classes -- have been a sensory overload. It's been full of excitement and lunacy and confusion and hesitation, anticipation, awkward moments galore. There's been too much new stuff for anything real to settle into my brain lately.

But here I am, and the dust is settling. And I'm happy. And things are changing. The mountains are gone, but there are lush trees everywhere. My hair freaks out every time I step outside, but I feel an old familiar feeling of home in the humidity. My apartment is large and empty and echoey. My kitchen cabinets are full of books and my refrigerator has nothing in it but diet Coke, two yogurts and leftover stir fry. And watermelon in a bag. My clothes are piled everywhere because there is nowhere to put them. I wrote for five hours straight on Sunday because that is what I'm here to do.

Adjusting from the rigidity and soulessness of the 9-5 has been difficult, much more so than I thought. I wander around and have nowhere to be, and it's beautiful. I read because I can and because I'm not tired. And I work on poems all day because I can, because it's what I am here to do.

I think sometimes though, that solitude is too much for me. I think it makes me crazy. And I get nostalgic for the old lives, but I won't go back because I can't. Nothing will ever be the same, no matter how much we try to make it the same.

I have to remember that there are no endings, only changes.

at this juncture.

i feel like i'm never going to get packed. i've already packed up a lot of stuff, but it feels like the stuff is neverending. in about three days, i'll be panicking and throwing everything away or throwing it all randomly into boxes and garbage bags. my dad will be telling me, "i told you waiting til the last minute to pack was a bad idea." i'll be crying and having shortness of breath and gastrointestinal problems. it'll be an awesome farewell.

on the plus side though, i've been having such a great time in the company of lovely individuals whom i am proud to call my friends. i'm carpe-ing the diem and making the most out of my last days here. and if that means i spend my last few days freaking out and throwing everything i own in the garbage, then that's what that means. stuff is replaceable. these memories are not, and if i do not make them, i will not have them.

the things i will have to leave behind though... mostly furniture, but for some reason feels like giving memories away. giving the green foldy chair to the goodwill guy felt like handing over my memory of watching movies with leah and john sophomore year. my prom dress from senior year... i can't even fit into that thing anymore, but i don't want to give it up.

but it's the time to move on. things change, and i'm trying not to be frightened of it. i'm excited by it, but daunted. there are swells and snatches of emotions i catch during the day, whether it's brought on by mere contemplation or by a chord change in a song, or a line in a poem, or a stranger i see. sometimes i feel uncontrollably joyous, and sometimes i feel completely overwhelmed, like i'm being sucked into the undertow and i can't find which way is up.

but hell. as long as i'm here and you're here, i don't really care. no one's taking away my birthday, and we're well on our way to a good time.

i should be emotional.

I just dumped my pot pie on the floor. In slow motion, I watched as my hands somehow flipped the plate over, watched my potpie land facedown on the kitchen floor and then bounce, watched the pot pie goodness explode all over the place. The first words out of my mouth: "Shut up." And then, after a nice 45 seconds of staring dejectedly at the remains: "How the hell do I clean *this* up?"

With how things have been going lately, I'm surprised I wasn't hysterical and sobbing as I paper toweled up my pot pie's innards. But it's good that I'm not. It's about time I moved on from Hormone Town.

But I am hungry and have only half a pot pie to eat.

hormones are friggin AWESOME.

seriously. once a month, i get extremely irritable, want to shake my SO and possibly leave, and cry hysterically over things i wouldn't normally. honestly, i should be medicated probably.

i should probably go to sleep, but i'm trying to exorcise all this crap out of me. i'm listening to crappy music and beautiful music and trying not to think about moving and remembering why i love my SO and trying not to feel my heart falling into my stomach.

really. medicated. somebody sedate me.

whoa.

I can't believe how much I actually, seriously daydream about food in the course of a day.

And I can't believe how much I actually, seriously daydream about being outside when I'm in the office. Not anywhere special, but just outside.

Happy or sad? Who knows. It just is.

And then of course there's the mild drama that spices up my otherwise freezing and boring work day...

However, 1993 called and gave me its silver earrings, bright pink shirt and olive green loafer wedges outfit. Thanks, '90s! You're giving me lots of stuff lately...

some lunchtime reading.

"It is equally part of right thinking to reject decidedly any and every form of discrimination. Preconceptions of race, class or sex offend the essence of human dignity and constitute a radical negation of democracy. How far from these values we are when we tolerate the impunity of those who kill a street child; those who murder peasants who struggle for a minimum of justice; those who discriminate on the basis of color, burning churches where blacks pray because prayer is only white; those who treat women as inferior beings; and so on. I feel more pity than rage at the absurd arrogance of this kind of white supremacy, passing itself off to the world as democracy. In fact, this form of thinking and doing is far removed from the humility demanded by 'right' thinking. Nor has it anything to do with the good sense that keeps our exaggerations in check and helps us avoid falling into the ridiculous and the senseless.

"There are times when I fear that someone reading this...may think that there is no more place among us for the dreamer and the believer in utopia. Yet what I have been saying up to now is not the stuff of inconsequential dreamers. It has to do with the very nature of men and women as makers and dreamers of history and not simply as casualties of an a priori vision of the world."

-Paulo Freire, from Pedagogy of Freedom, page 41.