endings are always the pathway to new beginnings...

After I took my last final for this semester I stepped outside and took in deep breath of bitter cold air. It was a moment of stillness after a frenzied couple of weeks and too much caffeine. A moment where I searched for invigoration..but instead felt an odd sense of numbness. Another page slipped by, and I'm onto the next chapter. The thing about chapters is you can't stop them from coming. They are before us whether we accept them or not. But the great difference between life and a book is that we can savor chapters in books, even go back and re-read them. In life we do not get this same luxury. The chapter of Jenn's College Experience Fall Semester 2010 is forever over. I have memories, but I cannot experience the same things again. I grew so much this semester that a part of me is scared to leave it behind. Will I leave the growth behind? Of course I won't. But I still feel like sucking my thumb and curling up under my blanket to hide from the inevitable--time passing.

Unforgettable experiences this semester?

Finding a voice...a true, tangible, arresting voice that drove a novel from me I didn't know I had inside.

Living life in a 'two' (thank you to Mister Dave Tinney's amazing class)

Opening my heart so there is room to let someone, something, some experiences...in.

Learning to stand quickly in others shoes and gain a deeper understanding of them.

So much, so deeply, so greatly have I absorbed new ideas and ways of life into my being this semester. I cannot let the chapter pass without at least a word, a gesture of thanks for the time I was able to spend writing it.

Here's to letting the page turn...because there IS another chapter waiting...

Always A Goodbye (tenative lyrics)

V: We always knew we'd say goodbye
always knew we'd have one night
only one,
only one

We always knew that we both felt it
always knew that we both meant it
for one night
for one night

B: You'll go back to your world
And I'll go back to mine
but its midnight and we're still wrestling with time

C: I just wanna hold you
I just wanna breathe you in
Don't wanna think 'bout letting go
or how much I've let you in
Cause the morning's coming fast
and I just want our last kiss, to last

V: You look at me like you know me
then pull me close like you really know me
is it real?
can't be real

Our bodies sway like we're dancing
I wonder if we're really dancing
in the moon
we're in the moon

B: You'll go back to your world
And I'll go back to mine
but its two am and we're still wrestling with time

A Magical Day

When I see the phrase 'magical day' I admit my mind usually wanders somewhere towards Fantasyland and a frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity in New York. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am actually blogging about an entirely normal day that had traces of magic in it. Today on campus I walked through the MOST perfect breeze. I can hardly put into words what a perfect breeze it was...the moist coolness picked up the scent of freshly fallen leaves, tickled my nose and kissed my cheeks and then was on its merry way. I tried to follow that breeze, I swear. I looked like a frozen bumblebee loping around campus for a good three minutes. When I gave up on finding that exact breeze again I went to class, where I learned something extraordinary. A composer by the name of John Cage actually sat on stage during a concert and proceeded to 'play' his most famous composition, Four Minutes and Thirty Three Seconds. Why was this piece shoved in the constellation hall of fame? Because he played nothing. Utter. Silence. Cage said that there is even "music in silence." As a songwriter myself I found this fascinating. And then I couldn't help but think of Tarzan and the scene where all the kitchen utensils turn into instruments. And then my ears were suddenly aware of all the rustling papers around me, the extra breaths, the weird lumpy cough from the guy two chairs up....Music? Not sure if I would call it that, but okay.

But after hearing that "music in silence" idea, I couldn't help but hear a symphony everywhere I went today. Or at least the Ingrid song that was looping in and out of my brain.

Until another magical day....

Dear Boy

I'm writing you this letter you will never read. But its okay. I have to write it. I will begin by saying we had some fun. How could fun turn into you awkwardly sulking away into the shadows of the theater where I work, avoiding me like you are a three year old? Somehow the man I once kissed has melted into a toddler who cannot even make eye contact....And I guess its okay. Its just somehow I expected at least a conversation. But I guess even a conversation is too much for for you to handle right now. That's okay. I am perfectly capable of handling it for both of us. Perhaps it could go something like this

"Hey Jenn,"
"Hey Boy"
"I just wanted to clear the air and be adult"
"Oh...okay. Well that is good. No worries. Friends?"
"Friends."

How easy. How simple. I can do it. Can you?

Until we actually make eye contact...
yours truly

o i love this scene.

Dear Campus

Dear Campus,

You are so alive with 'cool' kids I don't know where I fit in. Everywhere I look I see someone propped against an old tree playing their guitar singing softly into the fall air. Sometimes I feel out of place in my standard uniform which usually involves black yoga pants and a some sort of tutu. I know I look out of place amongst your nation of skinny jeans, moccasins, toms, vests, and blow-dried hair quaffs. But can I just say I am happy being who I am? I like to prance around in tutus and pearls and cropped denim jackets I found at a thrift store. And I like to wear my back pack AND purse. And no I will not...under any circumstance...bring my guitar to school. Sure, it might be easier to fit in to your teaming times of abundance unique Indy-esque culture if I carried my guitar- but I prefer the awkwardness of my backpack AND purse. Also I prefer to stay 'unplugged' as I skip around campus.
I know that to be a cool kid you are required to plug into some sort of music listening device, but I don't need to prove to anyone that music is a priority to me over the rest of the population. I like the aesthetic quality of listening to the white noise. The mindless chatter and rustling leaves and whooshing skateboards are quite music enough for me. I want to be able to actually hear when someone says, "Hey Jenn," if someone ever so desires. And I want to be able to hear my own thoughts, just in case I ever have any.
Dear, dear Campus. I do love the way you are so alive. And so full of coolness. But please forgive me if I decide to remain the tutu-wearing, pale skinned, Twilight disliking student that I am. I mean no offense. I simply mean to soak in all of your culture until my fingers are pruny with it, so that I do not have to actually become your culture.

Thank you ever so,

Jenn

time to be honest with myself

If I'm honest with myself
I'll know you're still with me
Whether you know it or not
Because you still echo
through me

If I'm honest with myself
I'll know all the empty
romance in-between
has filled some cracks
but not sown the seams
because you somehow
still sink in

If I'm honest with myself
I'll admit I still care
more than I admit, more than I dare
And probably more than you do
And that's the worst part
But if I'm honest with myself
I'll face this part of my heart

The part I've tried to run from
Tried to leave behind
Tried to ignore
Tried to make mine

But if I'm honest with myself
I'll know that I can't
get it back
Can't ignore it
can't run from it
Can't keep it

Because I gave it away
So its not really mine
To say if I am okay
Or if I am 'over' it
If I'm honest with myself
I can write the truth
That I don't want to write

If I'm honest with myself
I'm opening myself up
For deeper hurt, maybe
But for stronger truth
Because I cant lie to my heart
No matter what anyone says
Those songs about being strong
And alone
They are lies to my soul
BandAid remedies
cough syrup for a cold
It wont get better
But it might start getting
simpler

Please.

Please.

Please.

Get simpler.

If I'm honest with myself

If.

If.