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illbehomesoon
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Name: angela
Country: United Kingdom
Metro: London
Gender: Female
Interests: perspectives, changes, inspiration... ahem ahem. books- blank or filled, music- the listening and the making of it, good old friends, shiny new friends... but more of the good and the old than the bright and shiny. you know how it is. i'm very interested, most of all, i suppose, in the Spirit within and around each of us which moves and guides. it is invisible, that's why i seek it.
Expertise: wandering around, it seems, these days.
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
MSN: stumbleinmyfootsteps@hotmail.com
Member Since:
10/9/2005
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| they told me, they all told me it was the thing to do! lured in,
dragged through by promises of "rachel patterson's pictures!" "tmtf's
music!" "catching up with classmates!" exiting forays into times past
that are and are not really mine... gosh darn it, i just don't really
like myspace. this is nicer, comfier, grey... you know? no sleazy
pictures of people trying to sell themselves, no multiplicity of ways
peeople can comment, message, im, tag, poke, yell or any other virtual
way of getting your attention. no, with this nice little xanga
site, i can write, you can comment, i can go to your blog and write you
a nice little comment, and if either of us feel so inspired, we can
then open another tab and bang out an email. and then it takes
much longer to do myspace business than xanga business as well, here i
just have one row of messages to check, there i have four! how is
someone with 4 pages to write and 1500 pages to read before the end of
the semester supposed to find time to check FOUR message inboxes?? eek!
plus i don't have a digital camera, and that's half the fun isn't it?
what do you avid myspace users have to say for yourselves?? and for
those who remain xanga-- this is just to say i've come home!
angela
good morning world.
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| elvis on in the next room glad you don't have to hear it welcome
now everyone's back after four blessed days alone in this apartment
easter a time for family well what if you aint got one eh look up
pictures on this brown desk me and em with longer hair roommate too
funny how much people come to mean and then you forget even while she's
in the room forgotten it's that boy she's been with boys
always asking more and more andmoreandmore and then they fall apart on
you.
fe/male--people, eh?
hemingway and safran-foer of the making of books there is and suddenly
something drops clatters clashes inside or out hm? ah it's that glass i
always knew it i know these things. womansintuition?
so women in the flower store, dalloway asking about susie, o wait.
wrong writer woman not man joyce joyce used women mercilessly a
function he claimed well i'll show him how much of a function i o wait
this isn't the time we're talking about molly ulysses penelope now the
center of the universe no not even that not joyce writer at all not
writing at all but.
leaving?
emptiness now a gift not a burden and yes of course theres pain when
thinking i'll try not thinking nono that's not the answer either of
course theres pain yes of course and it doesn't go away ask anyone
they'll tell you for sure nono it doesn't go away well why ask that
rediculous question of course theres reasons of course a bigger picture
yes thats the ticket a bigger picture a picture oh theres one and look
that hat from freiburg and does he really yes i think he does have his
hand right there oh my that minute in the snow they were all there
shooting photos the darling couple it was lovely yes but that was only
home because of him and em and family no it doesn't make sense no it
doesn't work very well i agree nono.
i'll tell you a secret line the perfect opening no a good memory i'll
tell you for your ears only now lean in close once upon a nono well
alright once upon a spring time i said to him tread softly i said those
beautiful irish i said tread softly because you tread on my dreams and
he said back he said yes and you must show me where to step.
paths paths paths we'll walk them as long as we can find them it's hard
to make them out of nothing but we'll try thats the only way maybe now
if i step strong and help you find your footrest things will begin to
change change yesyes we can't ever say where or why not only theres the
books waiting to be read and written and we can take our place in the
line the lines upon lines of those who endured nono too small we
triumph we do we do our best is there anything else to be done?
you? still there? yes well i suppose i was trying. nono of course i
don't have the answers. of course what they tell you is true about
experience you know. forget that rubbish about the raft it won't be as
hard as they say and it'll be harder than you think but don't worry.
careful! if you watch the days pass that closely, you'll miss what else
is going on.
you are a part of all this. Christ died for all this. there is hope in you.
i love you (oh what does that mean what does that mean what does that mean--
we know. we all know well.)
angela (aka the artist as a young woman)
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|  hrm...routine. remy said something about making routine on his site,
and it sounds nice. i think the confusing part of being in one place is
being tossed around between obligations and interests, reading always,
internalizing sometimes. "wasting time" always. there is just so much i
have to fit into one day, here, into a week, perhaps a month and then
four years are out the window and we hope we remember the correlation
between mythology and the church in Joyce, or who Franz Ferdinand
really is (apart from the galwegian punk rawk band). even enviro.
science, i can throw around the big words, but can i put biomass energy
into action, or build a better engine into my car? blah blah.
and then there's extracurricular activities, the part of my transfer
applications that are going "tickle my catastrphe" (e.g. kick my ass,
shakes' talk). i have recently joined speech here, and i'm
thinking of adding a major, and getting a third job, and looking for a
church to join. eek.all the while trying to transfer schools, or
maybe not, maybe just have the option.
blah blah. i'm sorry for complaining. it's just difficult to juggle
everything, i know, i know, welcome to the life of a college student.
and peter sits in grey france, sans tea, sans books, learning in
different ways. hrm. clashing of worlds always. (oh, and he doesn't
have much email there, so if you've been writing and not getting
answers, that's why.)
it's been sunny in minnesota recently. this next week (can i get 90
pages of ulysses read in one day? or perhaps specify: ulysses read
simultaneously with two commentaries and a dictionary, now i know how
jewish kids study talmud, but that's spiritual as well. ahem.), this
next week jayne is coming down from canada to see emilie and i! yay!
last night my favorite people here at bethel went to a houka cafe (or
nargila, shisha, waterpipe) and had a wonderful time, my clothes still
have the delicate smell, we had mint, apple, pomegranate. more
attention and flirtation from the mediterranean men than i've had in a
long time. it's fun, as long as i have this white world to return to.
we're lucky, with our light skin and blue passports. fortunate.\
well, musings and news. and that's all for now, friends. my heartfelt
good feelings towards you all are revived and stronger, and for that i
am thankful.
angela
oh and that's me with french moostache, and emilie in the background cutting hair or something. my friend's polaroid.
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| i'm in a very different frame of mind.
several things: i suppose perhaps foremost is that peter is in geneva,
or maybe on the train to taize, or maybe somewhereinbetween, but i only
half know, and i only half know when i'll hear from him again. to hell
with all the ideals, all the impressions i might have given you
friends, all this stregth rubbish, it's bloody hard to be this far
apart! in so many senses. and that damn duritz' unhelpful voice
is in my head "threethousandfivehundred miles away" and we're not going
to finish that line. change the music, that's the ticket.
i've put on mazzy star (anyone? anyone?), about the only music on here
that doesn't have any connotations. i'm sorry, you all don't want to
hear any of this. i'm feeling sorry for myself. and i'm worrying.
blogs are dangerous things. i've been wanting recently to be someone else, someone i'm not.
this wasn't at all unusual a few years ago, but until recently, i
hadn't realized that i had been ok for a while now. i had been fine
with myself. in england, we had to travel light, and it was quite
easy to not care about whether i was frump that day, because we all
were, and we still had to look at each other. i learned to love
simple living, and in december it's so easy to be satisfied with
myself, because there were people (family and, ok, one other person in
particular) who were pleased with me anyway. i'm fortunate.
i got back to the united states and had a thousand clothes, all of a
sudden, and 20 pairs of shoes, and half of it i never used. i felt
nauseous. after finding my mind again, i dropped several boxes off at
the goodwill, and since then have been half pleased that i could hide
out in plain hair and plain clothes, and not stick out, for good or
bad. when you look plain, people either ignore you or take you
seriously (can we all think of a dear, dear bfa teacher, now living in
pa, taught us all how to be scornful of postmodernism? case in point.)
it's easy, too, everyhting i own goes with everything i own. no big
decisions in the terrible morning time. sometimes i feel (like the
virginiawoolfcardigan effect) invi(ncible)sible in my low
profile. it's been nice, for this transitionary period at least.
and then something happened. perhaps it was all the different
shapes people begin to take in the spring, perhaps it was coming here
to my old friends having morphed into the bohemian/alt
culture/hippie/socially aware bunch. kels, i told you i just fake well
with the artsy thing. i don't have the energy to have an
image. sigh. perhaps it was being a girl in the middle of the
month (let's face it, friends) and being drawn by a goodlooking fellow
accross the market square (one of those quiet independant types... oh
wait, i'm already with... well i guess i know what attracted me.)
perhaps it's this culture. whatever scapegoat i'm going to send over
the cliff, i am no longer satisfied with this self.
not like i feel a desperate need to make myself over or anything, and i
have been watching an incredible amount of movies since class ended
yesterday. hmmm... not healthy. not at all. i need to regain
perspective, on this, on many other things. now that i can breathe
again. yesterday i turned in a 17 page paper and a song i had
written for the final in my class and i'm free for four days!! what do
i do? classic mk, really, if we're not flying or hitchhiking to exotic
lands, we're staying in the dorms on breaks. so that's me.
however, i am not to be pitied at all. rather, i'm relishing my
solitude for as long as i can before the rest of my suite mates get
back from all over the world.
oh, to be getting back from all over the world! or maybe just staying there.
i'm just worrying.
angela
ps i hope reuben's tavern is fantastic tomorrow evening. go collin go!
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| ahemahemahem...
half way through the french press i made for only myself this morning,
wearing my suitofarmor, well, my virginia woolf androgynous navy
cardigan (bought at the freiburg secondhand store. it's "endearingly
plain" says one significant boy). i feel invincible in this, invincible
today against... a darkgrey minnesota sky out my window, which was
oppressive, until i donned the magical sweater and am now warm and
seperate.
french presses are not to be made for one person only. i fell in love
with them in england, the nicer hotels would bring out individual pots
of perfect coffee for us--groggy and not quite ready for another day on
the coach. good coffee was hard to come by, and my
oldmaninyoungman'sbody friend joe and i would rejoice at the sight of
the swift little pots.
at the beginning: french press coffee in a classic little bistro in
edinburgh, called Rick's, along with poached eggs on toast, back when
the sun still rose before we did--young and excited for the new, in the
old stone city. at the end: french press coffee in the alexandra
hotel in the seaside town of lyme regis, one morning when snow had
fallen so we couldn't leave until the afternoon, and it was sunny and
delicious looking from inside to the snowy sea outside the window, and
i, rereading a letter from peter recieved in the awesome british post
the day before.
oh! and the of course in december, coffee made too strong, overpowering
with the whisky we added in my/peter's basement room in the house that
is home if anywhere is. those are close, warm memories.
but french press for just one person gets cold too quickly. and my
roommate is in greeceandturkey, studying abroad, as it were. (if you
will)
well. life in the united states. it's interim right now, which means
one class (forfree) for three hours a day for four weeks, and for me,
not much else besides working a lot alot. i'm taking one called
'women's lives, women's choices' with a feminist professor friend of
mine. it's crazy and enlightening and i love it. i'm TAing for it as
well, which means more work, but more gain, really. and a hefty
paycheck, eventually.
bethel is hard to come back to, though i am blessed with friends from
england to whom i don't have to explain myself, as well as a few
friends from before.
it's a pretty isolated, closed campus here in the burbs of st. paul,
minnesota, and though i have a car now, i am still under the mk's curse
of having not gotten a lisence yet. bleck. lookdownonme, all. i'm
working on it. so i work hard, have about an hour off during the day
betweenjobs, and read at night, see friends on the weekends, slack off
when i get a chance doing rubbish like this blog, and try to think
about something sometimes besides all the injustices that surround us.
seriously, if only we could fuck
the systems, (excusemyfrench). it's hard to see so much oppression
against women, against races, against all of us in some way or other,
and think that there's still a way to change it. what do you all
think of the delimma: each of us as individual agents of change, or the
attitude of roll with the punches/nothing will change anyway/i can't
make a difference...?
well, this was great, really. my initiation into the
bloodsuckingmindnumbing world of xanga again. props to all of you who
manage facebook/xanga/myspace AND have a significant life off of the
computer. i'm too scared to even sign up for the other blogfriends
sites.
comment to me! validate me!
much love to all,
angela (virginia woolf! yes! i am invincible!)
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