Ahhh. I've finally got some time to breathe. Just a little. I plan on taking a nice warm shower, doing some light grading, then watching one of the very overdue DVD's sitting on my TV. I'm sitting here on my bed, laptop in my lap (ahh that's why they call it that), still wearing what I've been wearing since 8am this morning while teaching. It was a relatively easy day. I sat and listened to research paper presentations, spaced out a bit, pen in hand, as some of my students spoke. I was busy compiling a "To Do" list. I have been all week. Thinking about the things that need wrapping up before the end of the semester.

Thinking about how quickly some things can change. I'm almost amused at how quickly winter got here. It isn't officially winter yet, but there are bright red holly berries scattered and blooming across campus, and I've already seen the season's first snow, a light dusting of feathery snow, like powdered sugar on a pastry. Just yesterday I was trying to figure out how many more times I could make it to the beach before it got cold. Now I'm wearing my black leather gloves almost every day. Quick and fast change is.

You look up and you're someone else entirely, and you wonder how it happened. How you could have missed it. You see yourself everyday afterall. Listen to yourself chatter incessantly about the cost of gas, or the boredom that is Victorian novel class. And yet you don't pay more than cursory attention to the things that are happening. To the person you're becoming. And then voila! You don't quite think and feel the ways you used to, and you know it. And a part of you smiles at that, at the grown up wearing your body staring back at you from the mirror. But a tiny part of you frowns, because there's a wrinkle in that grown up looking body. A dent. A little thing that is new, or maybe only more noticeable now that you're looking and evaluating. A little scar that, if you're not mistaken, might be growing bigger and bigger if left unchecked. And you look at it, and frown some more, then pull your sleeve down over it to hide it away.

Yes, change is quick and fast, and catches us off guard more often than not. I 'best' be prepared for more.

I want to paint my nails red
like you
and hot bright pink like she.
But I have skinny fingers,
long skinny fingers
with short clean nails.
My soul is not hot pink inside,
or red inside
but what inside?
I want to paint my nails red.

Ever since I gave access to my blog to a friend of mine I've been trying to think of something else to post about, since my caterpillar escapades are now over (occasionally when I come home I look around furtively hoping that it's not hanging out by the door snuggling against some wall and waiting to be let in).

But I got nothing. I mean I could talk about the patterns I feel my life is falling into as of late, particularly the one where I wake up feeling tired, head to wherever it is I'm meant to be with work I've finished right on time, and head home again to stay up late and barely finish work, finally going to bed waay past my bedtime. And repeat. I really do feel like a little hamster running through the days, making it all work somehow, but looking back on it all and thinking I wish they'd gone differently some how. At least in terms of getting more sleep.

I'm also aware though that since this is my last semester at school, once the semester is over in about 4 weeks I'll be sitting around staring at my computer wondering what to do with my life. I mean, I do that now, but I won't have homework and grading to distract me. No distractions are bad. Idle hands are the devil's...ummm..things...tools? Uhh. I'm still tired.

I could list off the things that are making me slightly anxious these days (PhD applications that need finishing, deciding if I want to be slaving away in school for another 4-7 years, relationships, my consistent lack of breakfast and the hunger that ensues, moving out of my apartment in 2 months and having nowhere to move to since my loser sister has co-opted my mother's place in NJ, passing my M.A. exam, snow) but there's only so much I can say about any of them.

Instead I'm just writing about a variety of unrelated things. Like the fact that my department Christmas party was canceled and now I have nothing to get dressed up for. I might just show up on campus one day in a dress and lipstick. Or the fact that I hate getting emails about store discounts because even though I have no expendable cash to speak of I'm highly tempted to go out and buy a shiny new pair of boots on sale at Aldo's for 50% off with a purchase of $75 (after forking over my unborn children). And the fact that maybe I have a shopping problem. I could list a whole lot more random, embarrassing and telling things about myself, but I'll stop here because I want you all to like me.

Who wants to volunteer to make me breakfast?

Listen. I'm a girl, but I'm not necessarily girly. I don't particularly care for pink. I wear little to no make up. I do like shoes. But that's besides the point. I can build things on my own, put up heavy pictures, move large pieces of furniture. I'm not your every day damsel in distress. But I just spent about 10 minutes crying in my apartment parking lot because I came home and found a LARGE black furry caterpillar making its way towards my bedroom.

If you know me, if you've read this blog recently (or have been for a while) you know how much I am terrified of things with no legs. Well...caterpillars do have legs. And I'm not especially afraid of snakes. Whatever. What I'm saying is I don't like whatever classification of animal worms and caterpillars and centipedes and millipedes and the like fall under. They terrify me. No logical reason for it. I know I could out run them, step on them, hell spray them if necessary. But they scare me like nothing else. Imagine my disgust and surprise upon coming home yesterday to find this...thing snuggling (it was soo snuggling!) against the leg of the small table near my door way where I keep my keys. I paused and rushed past it eventually, thinking it would maybe find whatever hole it found the first time and take its leave of my abode. It did not. It stayed there for the entire day, and every time I came and went it was in a different position, albeit still under the table. Fine. I went to bed thinking about it so much it even made a cameo in my dreams. I was terrified of it there too. I even spoke to it this afternoon on my way out. "Look," I said matter of factly, "I have no problem with you just sitting there. Just don't get any ideas and make your way closer to my room.Ok?" I left thinking we had an agreement. I was wrong.

I came inside and checked under the table. No caterpillar. I was ecstatic. I walked inside with a little more confidence, thinking vaguely that it couldn't possibly have made its way inside, that it probably headed in the other direction. I was wrong. I flipped the light switch in the hallway on, and lo and behold. My friend was snuggling against the wall about a foot away from my bedroom. I panicked. And then I panicked some more and whimpered. And then I called my sister, who promptly told me to stop being silly, to cover it with a bowl and then wait until it died. I, in my frustration, yelled "And then what?" I was determined to not get any where near enough to be able to put a bowl or container over it. I continued to whimper, which soon escalated into tiny shrill screams. My sister sort of chuckled. I hung up. I called a friend and pleaded with him to come over and save me. He said he'd just left work and couldn't. And then he laughed and told me to become a woman and kill it. Then he suggested that I suck it up in a vacuum. I hung up.

I went outside into the parking lot looking around aimlessly for a man. Yes, shameful, and completely not feminist, but scary times call for desperate measures. Or something like that. I must have looked so forlorn. I thought about my nice male neighbor in the building across the way who waves at me whenever I leave my apartment. He wasn't around tonight though, and it was getting dark and I wasn't really sure how I would ask him into my place to remove vermin. A van pulled up and a man came out, and for the first few minutes I was too embarassed to say a word, but as he headed to his apartment my voice called out feebly "Excuuse me..." He didn't hear me. I called my brother, an entire state away, hoping for some words of encouragement, maybe word that a friend of his lived nearby and could help. He didn't pick up. I walked the length of my complex, and not a sound, not a person was around. I walked back, stood near my car and cried.

I don't think I cried because there was a disgusting black furry creature in my house. I think I cried because I realized then just how alone I was. Am. How vulnerable it can be to need people and not have them there to help. It made me think about the week before and the fact that I had to call 911 because of an incident with a strange man in my parking lot. It's just becoming apparent that living alone isn't always fun.

I eventually texted a male classmate of mine who I trust, and who, though he chuckled a bit when I called, immediately volunteered to come and kill and or remove the vermin from my apartment. He arrived in about 10 minutes and removed it gently and put it...somewhere outside. I hope it forgets how it got in in the first place.

I suppose all is not lost. We're never quite as alone as we think we are.

I'm so much better at life when I'm ad-libbing and making crap up. That goes for pretty much every aspect of my life, including teaching and social interaction. I suppose there's something to be said for my natural charm . Seriously though, I'm finding that when I plan for certain things they don't quite go as expected, but when I saunter into a room with nothing  more than a smile on my face and a vague idea of what I hope to accomplish I walk away feeling like a rock star. I should buy and electric guitar. I don't know why. Isn't that what rock stars do?

On an entirely unrelated note (because that's what ad-libbing is about) I was having a conversation the other day with someone about platonic male/female frienships and how I think they're impossible. Well, perhaps I should say improbable. I've never been able to maintain a purely platonic relationship with someone of the opposite sex, and let me pause here for a minute to provide you with a dictionary definition of the word (in true undergraduate research paper form):

Pla·ton·ic  

Pronunciation Key  adj.   Of, relating to, or characteristic of Plato or his philosophy: Platonic dialogues; Platonic ontology. often platonic Transcending physical desire and tending toward the purely spiritual or ideal: platonic love. often platonic Speculative or theoretical.

Pay particular attention to the second definition, the one about transcending physical desire. Yeah. That's where many so-called platonic relationships fail my friends. I know some of you are thinking that you may have a friend of the opposite sex that you'd never think of in any way other than clothed and sex-less. You may be right. But that doesn't mean they haven't been imaginging you in various states of undress for some time. I'm not saying it's a continual thing, or even a logical thing. I'm just saying.

Consider this scenario. You're both sitting around one evening (or on the phone) and one or both of you has had just a little too much desert wine. You've been friends for years. Saw each other throw up, cried on each other's shoulders about the latest break up. Suddenly your friend says something like "You know I've always thought you were beautiful/handsome. I don't know why someone would leave you." You smile because its a wonderful compliment, but something is slightly amiss. The truth of the matter is that some times our friends harbor secret loves (a la Joey Potter for that loser Dawson), or even just secret desires. It doesn't mean you aren't friends. Far from it. It might actually mean you're better friends (after having messed around, which sometimes enables you to share more with that person than you may have been comfortable doing before you copped a feel).

In all seriousness, friendships are such weird, amazing, confusing things. I've become friends with people I never expected to, shared things I didn't even realize I thought about, and have them mean more to me than I thought they would. At the same time, I'm realizing that the people we think we'll be friends with forever sometimes don't quite live up to that expectation, for whatever reason. Appreciate what you have when you have it. People come into our lives for specific reasons, and they leave them for equally important reasons.

Even the ones who want to see you naked.

My weekends these days are abnormally short, by which I mean I get nothing done. I also seem to be losing out on sleep.

Today I woke up about half an hour before I was meant to be on campus teaching. Again. Well, actually the last time anything like this happened I had woken up about 10 minutes before my class was scheduled to start, which meant that at 8am there was a classroom full of sleepy college kids wondering why I wasn't there yet and thinking maybe they could have slept in a bit longer. I got there at 8:10am huffing and puffing and probably looking like I'd had a rough night. I felt horrible and let the class go early, mostly because I didn't want them to have to wait for my asthmatic breathing to quiet itself enough for me to teach anything, and because I didn't feel like being there. Today I was quite composed and on time enough to make copies at the department before walking to my classroom. The more I do this the less frazzled I am by any wrench that may happen to get thrown into my plans. Class went well. I even got some chuckles out of 'em.

And yet. Today is Monday, and despite the loveliness of the sunshine and all, I think I need a "day". I have decided that today will be that day. When I was in middle school I hated school very very much. I'm sure it had a lot to do with being home sick (I moved to NJ from Trinidad when I was 12 and started school here in the 7th grade) and unfamiliarity with the ways of pubescent American boys and girls. I tried to find as many reasons as possible to avoid school. And it worked some days. My mother didn't seem to mind letting me have a day off here and there. Besides, I was a genius so missing school didn't affect my grades . When I went to college I met a girl who would become one of my best friends. We worked as RAs together. One day she told me that she needed a "mental health" day. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, and was honestly a little concerned that maybe there were some things about her I didn't know. But she really just meant a day to relax, be calm, forget about all responsibilities by shirking as many of them as possible for one day. There were a lot of things going on in her life, and occasionally if she didn't take a "day" then she might have imploded.

I'm taking today. I wasn't quite prepared to shirk my teaching responsibilities because of my ability to make myself feel very very guilty about such things, but I think I'm willing to miss a class today (a class I'm only auditing anyway and can't really get penalized for since I'm not being graded). It's a 3 hour class (once a week) and although the majority of the class today will concern  watching a movie (with an intellectual discussion afterwards) I don't think I'll go. I have so many other things to do, things that keep getting  backed up. Including sleep. I think I'll take the day to finish both articles I need to write for the online magazine I write for, and to maybe catch up on some reading. And some sleep. I am, of course, trying to convince myself as I write that this is the best plan of action. I really do enjoy that 3 hour class, and sometimes come away feeling like I've just had the best academic experience. But I can't today. And I know a "day" is supposed to be devoid of work, but that's what got me into this mess to begin with. No, I am going to get some breakfast, go home, take a nap and cross some things off my To Do list.

A while ago I saw two little girls in the library arm in arm walking...somewhere and talking, smiling. They may have been sisters. They may have met just that day. Kids are notorious for making fast friends. In any case, I was moved to jealousy. I no longer feel like I have friends I can confide in completely. Not really. Not everything. Not those deep down dark things. Part of this stems from the fact the close friends I had, the two girls I used to cuddle up in one small bed with (in a purely non-sexual and non-male fantasy kind of way) and talk with, whine to, laugh at, confide in, are no longer in my immediate vicinity. I moved from Philadelphia, and while one of them is still there the other is out at Penn State also going to grad school. Out of sight out of mind they say. Additionally, we're all older now. People naturally separate, grow apart. All that good stuff. Mostly though, I no longer feel comfortable being 100% honest with either of them. With anyone really.

My sister and I are fairly good friends. Not everyone can say that about their siblings. It certainly took some time, some getting over the teenage rivalry and petty bickering, which we still occasionally have. But for the most part I can count on her to be able to listen to the big things in my life, the things that scare me, and concern me. At the very least she usually seems to understand where I'm coming from. But she doesn't know everything. And sometimes I don't share the big things with her until much later. I didn't really tell her about my break up until...much later. Maybe a week. Maybe two. And we lived together. I still don't think I've really ever sat down with her and told her how I felt, what was really going on. But she's been supportive.

I don't necessarily have any close friends where I live now. And I can't say I'm completely surprised. The older we get the less inclined we are to open ourselves up I think. The harder it is, more work I should say, to cultivate a relationship where we can feel comfortable enough to lean on someone's shoulder, or to look them in the eye after something particularly funny has happened and know that they think it's hilarious too. Part of my lack of close friends for the last two years has been due in part to laziness. To a reluctance to work, both at the friendships I have, and the ones I could potentially have. And part of it is a fear of just how non-good I am.

I'm not a saint. I know that no one is. It's just, people tend to meet me and assume that I'm a lot nicer, a lot milder than I really am. Which, to be honest, I enjoy to some extent. Something about my glasses perhaps, or my demeanor maybe gives people a certain impression of me. And who am I to tell them otherwise? And yet, like every other human being we yearn to put off the acting and reveal ourselves, with the hopes, of course, of being accepted for that too. It's the moments when someone confesses to something, to a love of soap operas, or an extreme dislike of worms (hate them!!) and someone else goes "me too!" that we live for. Moments that show that despite how much of an individual we'd like to claim we are, we really want to know that we aren't islands living on our own planets. That didn't make any sense. But you know what I mean.

Anyway. As it stands I can't be completely honest with anyone. But I suppose that's the nature of things. We share what we want to share with different people. Some people know some things about me, and the others different things. I suppose if I combined those people into one huge (and weird looking) person I'd have the perfect friend. But I'm not silly enough to believe in perfect. It's a self-defeating concept, a thing we use to define and compare other things in a mostly unfair manner. Perfect is, like anything else relative to who is doing the comparing.

I suppose my goal should be to try to make friends in the library Wish me luck.

I don't have much to say. People everywhere are speaking, talking, laughing and smiling. And I'm right with them. What I will say, as a Caribbean American who was born elsewhere and who held America up as "the land of milk and honey and golden streets", is that I am truly moved, truly proud to be a part of this moment in time.

I remember October like it was yesterday. Well, I guess technically it was October about three days ago. The days are doing weird things, blurring and melting away. I would say that it seems like time has been flying only recently, but I suspect time has been doing its thing for quite some time now whether I pay attention to it or not. It's only manifesting itself in ways that are noticeable to me...when I pay attention. Otherwise, weird things happen like groups of trees that used to be green one day are all yellows and reds and golds the next day. Just like that. No lie. Time I tell you. Sneaky.

I enjoyed October. It started out rough, as things do, and I'm pretty sure there were other rough days in there, but that is the way living happens. With a variety of days and moods and happenings. They're not all going to be pretty. But they exist. And I go to bed at night every night despite the quality of my day thanking God that I simply exist, that I even have a voice with which to whine incessantly. And fingers with which to share my incessant whining with you. I'm sure you're all excited about that.

The oddest thing, I think, about turning 25 is that I'm paying more attention to the things I seem to be thinking a lot more about these days. Honestly I don't know if there's some kind of switch that gets flipped on the minute mid 20's hit, one that is labeled "Care a lot about things like working and having a lucrative career and love and a life partner and having babies, lots of cute babies", but I think somehow this sickness has fallen on me. And it makes me kind of nervous, because I need the switch to chill just a little bit. For like...a few years.

And yet I can't help occasionally wondering about marriage, even though it completely terrifies me. And I can't help smiling about the thought of children, future sons and daughters. I can't help but think about life. But I'm living life.

Life is, essentially, a sum of all its parts. I'm pretty ok with this part. And very soon other parts will come.

Happy end of October.