Soul Food

February 28, 2007

That night, following his renunciation, as he was undressing for bed, he recited for Fermina Daza the bitter litany of his early morning insomnia, his sudden stabbing pains, his desire to weep in the afternoon, the encoded symptoms of secret love, which he renounced as if they were the miseries of old age. He had to tell someone or die, or else tell the truth, and so the relief he obtained was sanctified within the domestic rituals of love. She listened to him with close attention, but without looking at him, without saying anything as she picked up every article of clothing he removed, sniffed it with no gesture or change pf expression that might betray her wrath, then crumpled it and tossed it into the wicker basket for dirty clothes. She did not find the odor, but it was all the same: tomorrow was another day. Before he knelt down to pray before the altar in the bedroom, he ended the recital of his misery with a sigh as mournful as it was sincere: “I think I am going to die.” She did not even blink when she replied.

“That would be best,” she said. “Then we could both have some peace.”

Years before, during the crisis of a dangerous illness, he had spoken of the possibility of dying, and she had made the same brutal reply. Dr. Urbino attributed it to the natural hardheartedness of women, which allows the earth to continue revolving around the sun, because at that time he did not know that she always erected a barrier of wrath to hide her fear. And it this case it was the most terrible one of all, the fear of losing him.

                                       Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

I know this book inside and out, in both Bulgarian and English. It is like an emotional security blankie-it brings me comfort when shit hits the fan, and carry it with me everywhere. The english version is a first edition, a gift from Dan, who got it from some street vendor in New York (the other book he gave me that same day was “Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll”… you figure it out), and it is all mouldy as a result of my room flooding last year, but I refuse to get rid of it. The bulgarian version was smuggled by my cousin out of my late uncle’s house during my first trip back home (the relatives were fighting over everything and anything at the time), and has been borrowed by pretty much every bulgarian I know in a 3-state radius. I guess I’m not the only one who it brings comfort to.



February 26, 2007

I studied all week. Animal diversity, the nervous system, the endocrine system, classification…. I was doing fine up to the point I got to the hormone inhibitor questions. Then the coloring by numbers began. I had no clue what it was they were actually interested in. And I studied. I am, however, really relieved it’s over. Exhale. Life is good.

P.S. I hate scanrons. Filling those freaking bubles in is worse than taking the actual test.

Listen To Your Heart

February 24, 2007

What does following your gut feeling mean? Instinct. What if your instinct has been wrong so far? Do you ask your friends for advice? What if your friends are so tired of hearing about your shit they don’t even know what to say anymore and don’t answer the phone when you call? Do you sit and wait for it to blow over? Do you stew in your own misery? Do you pretend it never happened? Do you blog in the hopes you exorcise it out of you? Do you go to therapy? Does therapy help? Do you do it, or not? Does it even matter? Is it worth sticking your head out? What for?

A totaled BMW. Jenga. Stupid rules. Fight Club. A restaurant downtown that stores more memories for me than I have ever cared to pay attention to. For good reason, it turns out. Two birthdays, a first date, a last date, an anniversary, a rollerblading accident, an occasional dessert fix, catch-up dinner, make-up dinner. What’s the point of it all, if you can’t even bring yourself to talk not only about the past, but the present as well?

I need a puppy. The bigger, the better. The ultimate unconditional love. Like chocolate….

Second Time Around

February 23, 2007

I hate the spring semester. For some reason it never works out for me. I’m not sure if it’s the weather, the season, the beginning of the year, or whatever, I really have no clue, but it is so much harder for me to find meaning or motivation in what I do. I hate it. And it sucks, because it is so important that I do well. Now. Not next fall. I procrastinate about procrastinating. I didn’t even know that was possible, but I have actually figured out how to do that. I have an exam on sunday night (yep, sunday… leave it up to the Bio Dep’t, of course. Handjobs). I need to go read. Turn myself into a productive member of society.

I Think I’ll Go To Boston

February 21, 2007

Wouldn’t it be nice if you saw your problems as objectively as other people’s? Why is it that we seem to have so many good ideas on how to fix someone else’s issues, but not our own? Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. Denial. Nothing quite like it.


February 20, 2007

This is gyrating on my nerves-some of the pictures uploaded fine, and some are simply being assholes. I did everything the same, so what the fuck? I’m tired. I’m going to bed.

Technical Difficulties

February 20, 2007

As I mentioned before, I’ve never played around with digital before… I’m not quite sure how I fucked it up, but I think it’s fixed now. I hope it’s fixed now, ’cause I don’t know what else to do. I’m still getting used to all the settings on the damn thing, so everything looks just a little funky….. Let me know if you still don’t see anything.

Look, Ma, pictures….

February 19, 2007

A very kind, loving soul gave me a digital camera for my birthday. I’ve never had one of those before, so I’ve been a little out of control with it, taking pictures left and right. Turns out those gizmos are a lot of fun. I like it. I figured I’d share some nonsense with you.

Pictures V

February 19, 2007

p1000033.JPG Last one….

Pictures IV

February 19, 2007

p1000030.JPG Overexposure