A Response to Ben

I did it. I took your advice. I sat in the cafeteria of my dorm, alone, during peak lunch hours. I tuned them out. Animal Collective blasting through my headphones, cutting my ears off from the strange and noisy outside world. I knit, to keep my fingers busy, and take occasional sips from my second cup of black coffee, burnt and lukewarm, as I watch the actions of strangers surrounding me. I can't really escape, not here at least. The term stranger only applies to eighty percent of the room, the rest familiar faces. I see my roommate across the cafeteria, contradicting my previous belief that she never leaves the room. Maybe soon I will try this on a bus with no destination in mind but sanity. I sit here longer, eyes watching, ears listening, fingers moving, all in familiar manners. I want so many things at once. I want to be invisible. I want to be noticed. I want to be part of this world to which I am nothing but an onlooker, an outsider. My iPod battery dies, breaking the barrier between my head and the reality I can't control. As my ears are once again flooded with the sounds of the outside world, the thought of being a part of this strange and noisy outside world makes my stomach do somersaults onto itself. Or, maybe it was the black coffee, burnt and lukewarm.

a freeing/frightening thought

February 13, 2009/7:37 A.M./Sunrise Yoga/Savasana:

I will never be able to live this moment again.

Band-aids fix all boo-boos.

Observations in Philosophy

A particular man climbs down the stairs of an awkward lecture hall sandwiched in the corner of two riot-proof walls, concrete and cold. He brushes off a chair in the front of the room only to rest his jacket upon it. Hair sprouts out of a three inch area of skin, leaving me to wonder what he is hiding under the perpetual hand it makes over his mouth, as he scribbles "If 2+2=5, then God exists" on the once black, now gray, blackboard. A philosophy class is like a strange world full of big, bushy mustaches.

More snow-covered things

because is there ever enough?

In Madison, the snow makes cows look like sheep.

Hello Obama

Today, 826 Valencia published a book called "Thanks and Have Fun Running the Country: Kids' Letters to President Obama." The book is, just as it sounds, full of kid's letters to Obama. I think they are great, few people are as great writers as little kids. You can see some samples here, but here's a few of my favorites:

Dear President Obama,
Could you help my family to get housecleaning jobs? I hope you will be a great president. If I were president, I would help all nations, even Hawaii. President Obama, I think you could help the world.
— Chad Timsing, age 9

Dear President Obama,
I know you want to save the earth, but people don't want to clean. My life is to clean up all the world and help you to clean. I always dream of cleaning the world with you. I'll do anything for you because you are the president in this world.
Stephanie Gonzalez, age 7

Dear President Obama,
Are you going to be pictured on our money? How do you get in the White House? Do you like Abraham Lincoln? Do you have a big backyard? Martin Luther King Jr. had big fans. How many fans do you have? You could help us by giving us food. I am Luis Ramirez. I go to school at Mayberry. I like to play video games.
Luis Ramirez, age 8

To President Obama,
If I were president, I would help the people. If we don't throw the trash away, we are going to get sick. I could walk around to check where there is trash.
From,
Kenia Zelaya, age 6

Dear Obama,
I like you because you won. We saw you on TV. I hope I am your friend.
Sincerely,
Edwin Martinez, age 6

Relativity

At this height, I can't even see the ground,

but I still know it exists. I've been there before.

It's the dirt, not the clouds, that tell me where I am.

dust

My skin cells are scattered across this city, intertwined with yours.