Going Long

Shane is visiting from California. Not me, necessarily, but a few people on the east side. I hung out with her for a couple of nice hours today and then I will see her and her friend tomorrow. We're going to the cinema.

Legally Blonde 2 is on tap, I believe. I can handle that much more than I can handle this Gigli stuff. And what is with that poster? Every time I walk by it in the subway I want to stick my fingers down my throat and regurgitate all over it. That upward glance of Jen at Ben is something that I cannot relate to right now, and so that poster, combined with the fact that their relationship and impending marriage seems to be hot Hollywood fodder, is just too much for me. Puke. Get a room.

Speaking of Hollywood, this Lakers business is pissing me off, too. Has everyone already forgotten that the Spurs won this year? I think so. It's fascinating to watch this basketball business happen. It will be exciting to watch that team, though. I actually like Malone and Payton. That's all I'm going to say on the topic. I still despise the Lakers. I still love the Spurs and that's that. Oh. One more thing. Why did I have to see another Spurs hat today that I fell in love with? Yes, I'm left able only to fall in love with inanimate objects now but this hat was nice. Fitted, too.

I'm a fan of the fitted cap. I may have to consider it. It's in a store up by Penn Station. I was there today to meet Shane. Erin and I were there a couple of years ago and I bought a shirt from them.

I remember this guy asked me where I was from. I told him Los Angeles originally. He took that to assume that I was latina. I reassured him that I was part African American. He wasn't having it, though. With the utmost certainty in his head shake, he told me that I must be Puerto Rican. Ok. Whatever, dude.

I think I saw him there today.

So this store is great. There are hats for days. It's a veritable heaven for me. Another thing I'm going with is my short story.I've already got about 1,600 words written. It can't be more than 8,000. I've got a friend who is a creative writer and who has written a number of short stories giving me feedback. I just sent her the latest installment. It's been a fun experience. I've never done this. I decided to make the main character, Reece, a guy.

I figured I'd get as much distance from him personally as possible. I didn't do any character sketches before I began. I just started writing. It's interesting to see how the characters are seeming to develop on their own. It turns out that Reece has a bit of an attitude problem.

And it seems that Grace, his girlfriend, is a bit annoying and kind of aloof. Speaking of "Reece," I'm interested in hearing reactions to my wanting to go by that name. I kind of like it. My mom already gave me permission.

So the story is fun to write. I hit a snag tonight, though. So I put it away rather than allow myself to become frustrated and then resentful and then unwilling to go back to it altogether. Tomorrow. Regardless of what happens in the end, I am glad to be going through this process. I'm not expecting it to be accepted but I'm going to try. And if it's not accepted, that's cool. I will have a short story under my belt.

I did some reading today, too. I'm really enjoying Foucault. I hate to sound like a trendy academic, but I think he may be my favorite so far. He's such a great writer. His style is so easy to follow. I can only hope to be able to lead any readers I may have so skillfully through a text. He definitely had a gift.

And, of course, the theory that's behind it is powerful. And I've been able to do something that I don't think I've done too much of. Maybe I did it in my Political Science paper last semester. But I was able to make a couple of connections with what I read today to some stuff I read in Freud. I may write a short paper on that. But I'm only on page 30-something so I have a ways to go. I'm enjoying reading all the responses to my birthday party invitation, those who have responded, that is. I can't wait. I will have my glass full of tequila and margarita mix all evening.

I bought my plane ticket back to NYC finally. (I had to wait to get some space on my credit card. It was close there. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to come back...and then what would the city do? Ok, it would be fine.) I'm going to be in California until August 11. That's a long time to be away from home. But I'm glad to be able to spend the time over there. I've been away for almost seven months and it's time for a taste of the west. I can feel its longing for me. Totally kidding.

I'm going to be staying with Shane the first night, then Mary C. the second night, then Alia and her man for the next couple of nights. I'm going to Chico the first Thursday I'm there and I can't wait for that, either. Alia, in all her kindness, has agreed to lend me her Jeep Cherokee with leather seats. The seats warm up. Unfortunately, I won't be able to take advantage of that. Maybe I'll crank the AC and put the warmers on. I'm looking forward to the drive.

Music blaring. Me singing off key. No one to hear me. I'm not sure where I'm staying the rest of the time. I've got some options, so at least I won't be on the side of some road. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to leaving. I need a break. So words seem to be coming out of me like crazy. Not necessarily on this site, I've noticed, but it definitely has in other places. I've been trying to dig deep into myself in my journal. I think it's helped. There was/is a lot of crap to dig through. And then, of course, there's this short story I'm working on. I even wrote an "About Me" section for my site.

I've seen other blog sites that have them and I think they're cool. So I'm trying to work up something. There are also the articles I've written. Shane (the guy) is a tough one when it comes to editing my stuff but it's appreciated. He actually liked the one I finished earlier in the week. And I'll be writing another one next week. My point is with all this that I've been producing many different kinds of writing.

I don't consider myself a writer at all. I actually don't know what that means. "I'm a writer." Does it mean you get paid for it? Does it mean you simply write? I get paid for it, I guess, but I don't count that. I feel that there's a lot of stuff in me and the only medium I can use to expel it is writing. Sometimes slam poetry-type stuff flies through my head. But I don't write it down. Dialogue, too. I'd like to figure something out. Lately, I have fallen in love with writing.

Wait, that's not an inanimate object. Maybe I do have a heart after all. Anyway, I have found myself looking forward to expressing myself via the written word, even though I may be the only one who reads it. So I've got to do something about this. What? I don't know. And that's what frustrates me. I've spoken with a guy from my program about wanting to do something "big." I'm not quite sure what that means, either. I'm still struggling with my uncertainty about next year.

Sure I have to get through the thesis. But I'm freaking out about my post-M.A. phase. I don't know if I can handle five more years of insecurity (Ph.D.). I don't want to "give in" and go back to work. But is that giving in? Maybe not. I do know that I want to feel like an adult again. I would like to be able to have an apartment with plants and floor rugs and stuff. I guess I can do that now but there's a part of me that doesn't want to settle here. Because I may be moving. See, I can't even make decisions concerning apartment aesthetics, so why am I trying to figure out next year? I still have to figure out the long week ahead. I'm just rambling now. It's because I'm tired. I've done a lot of head searching during the past couple of days. What a long trip. That probably is the reason for my exhaustion. I can't think of much else to go on about. Lucky you. I'm going to sleep now. I'm going to sleep still wondering what I'm going to do after I graduate; who the Spurs will sign; how to continue my short story; if solitude is recognizable; and why vulnerability is so hard to embrace.