cantando @ 2007-06-17T19:30:00

2007-06-17T23:31:24Z

The past few days, weeks, maybe months I've been floating. When my eyes are closed I see candy stars. I grin stupidly to myself, lost in daydreams, and my dad asks me what the hell is so funny. I check my phone, facebook, IM hundreds of times in a day. I replay in my head those moments from this summer; I kiss my own hands and gaze into dark eyes in my memory. My god, it feels so good to be with him.

My god, I've caused such hurt.
I mean it every time I tell you I love you, but how can you believe someone so erratic and inconsistent? Remember?
Every time I see you we make mistakes.
I don't know what to do, except be honest with you now.
There's no one who's ever meant more to me than you.
I love you; God, I love you so much. Don't you see?

Love was recently defined to me as wanting the best for someone else. It's so deliciously simple, but at the same time so damn hard. So selfless.
As for being in love... it's almost the same. But now I know the difference.

cantando @ 2007-06-17T17:39:00

2007-06-17T23:29:59Z

After last year I'm still not ready to go back to school, but in 10 days I'll be on an airplane that will take me across the world, and in 22 days I'll be starting classes at a university whose name I'm not entirely sure how to pronounce and whose student body is 6 times larger than Bucknell's. I'm so excited I might pee myself on the plane. ...What a great way to meet new friends.

I've been away from Bucknell for over a month now. I've been biding my time, planning my days in the hopes that I won't become too bored. And, surprisingly, I haven't. In the days I didn't spend traveling to Boise or DC or Philly my body grudgingly accepted some newfound relaxation and-- gasp-- laziness. My brain is at me ferociously every day...: "PAGE! What the fuck do you think you're doing?! You're getting flabbier and more out of shape with each book you consume, with each morning you sleep away, with each day you don't run or bike or stairclimb or lift weights or, for god's sake, ERG!!!"
At first I guilted myself into sneaking into my mom's gym to endure the treadmill for about a half hour or so every other day. Now I tell my damn masochistic brain to shut up, and consider a walk with my dog in the park decent exercise.
Thinking of erging again makes something inside me wither up a little, and even thinking of rowing leaves residue of considerable doubt. What do you do when you start to forget the reasons you loved something that got you so far and has done so much for you? Sometimes I let my mind flirt with the idea of just stopping altogether. Only the idea, though.

cantando @ 2007-03-01T15:59:00

2007-03-01T21:02:00Z

This morning I woke from a work-induced stupor in the library to what sounded like 45 birds outside the window. For the next hour and a half I was grinning like an idiot.

The skies are still grey, but spring is coming.

cantando @ 2006-12-31T03:29:00

2006-12-31T07:29:52Z

I feel a little bit ousted. And a lot bit elementary in feeling that way. And confused because every single thing I do or read or watch or remember makes me think of you, and I'm surprised (but not really) to constantly find myself imagining marrying you someday. I want to have your babies. I don't even like babies.

You call her beautiful, too.
Maybe I'm threatened. Is that what this is about, Page? Do you feel threatened by a pretty, petite girl with long blonde hair who would never be asked mistakenly if she shopped at Big & Tall? Do you feel threatened that he thinks she's beautiful, or that the two of you are different on the outside but apparently have similar humor, similar personalities, similar characteristics to fall in love with? Or fall out of love with? Are you afraid that by the time you let yourself come around he'll have found someone else to pour his entire being into?
How many times have you done the same thing, Page? How many times have you maybe made him threatened? How many times have you felt out other possibilites, rushed into something you wanted to prove could work, knowing it wouldn't in the end? You're erratic, though. He isn't. You know that once he starts to love, it's for real. That's what scares you the most, isn't it?
Maybe it's all the books I've been reading lately. The last two have been by Ursula Hegi. One was about World War II. The other was funny. Really funny, and very unconventional. And not nearly as serious, but just as deep, as the first. Both involved family. And even marriages without all the glamour can be beautiful.

Did you know Ursula Hegi's characters follow her around and talk to her? Even if she doesn't want them to? She talks to them, too. Thus is the life of an author, I suppose.

Maybe I have too much time to think. I think about the books I read, and try to stop relating myself to the characters. I find too many similarities. I think about marrying you (why do I keep thinking about marriage??), and I think about being afraid of monotony and tedium and routine. I think about hypocrisy and guilt. I think about love, too. I think about how stressed out I get by thinking too much.

Christ. It's entirely possible that I'm a complete nutcase.
Then again, I suppose it's entirely possible that we all are.

cantando @ 2006-12-20T19:09:00

2006-12-20T23:09:09Z

I don't hate it here. I don't even dislike it here. Frederick is pretty, we live a whopping 2 minutes from downtown, and the neighbors, who admittedly are more dramatic than a bunch of high schoolers, are becoming our family.
Being here feels like we're just visiting some friends; like pretty soon we'll drive the 45 minutes to the Baltimore airport, board a plane back to Boise and be home.
We closed on our house today and the worst part about all of this is thinking about going back there and seeing the house completely changed, with new people walking around on the floors I walked on, new people who aren't even nice.
And I think about the old house in Maine, and how when we visited I was foolish enough to insist on driving down Spring Street. And how I burst into tears and never wanted to go back there again.
I made the mistake of referring to Boise as 'home' the other day. I hate watching my mom become guilty.
But I miss the foothills and Mrs. Jensen and even the stupid Y, and I miss the people I haven't really talked to since summer, and the ones I talk to a lot. I miss walking into a store and knowing where the hell things are, and I miss being able to walk around my house without spotsearching the walls for light switches.
The thing is, I miss a lot of things I knew I would miss, but I miss even more things that never mattered until I left.

busy is an excuse. a really, really bad excuse.

2006-11-19T18:07:29Z

Well. This is unfamiliar territory.
...and yet, I still remember how to italicize words. :)

I'd like to tell you that I love you.
Even if I can't.

Something else, from my friend Mr. Az:
If the plane goes down
I'll remember where the love was found

I can't wait for Thanksgiving.

Josh Groban makes me feel

2006-10-05T03:00:27Z

Maybe I was wrong about you
Thought I was strong without you...

It took me 19 years to fully realize nothing will ever get easier.

cantando @ 2006-09-16T00:53:00

2006-09-16T04:53:31Z

Sometimes when I stop and think about it, I realize there are so many reasons for me to dislike rowing. In the shower today I pondered it as I used my less-blistered hand to massage shampoo into my hair and shaved around the infected track bites on my legs. I winced when I put lotion on; I yelped when the facewash I squeezed into my hands seeped into the torn skin. I also wondered why, as I switched from lifting to cardio to actual rowing today, I actually do this.

I guess it's a little bit like loving someone: you put in so much hard work and it's really painful at times... sometimes you just want to ride back to the dock in the launch and leave the stupid boat in the water to float over the dam... but at the end of it all, none of that stuff really matters. You can begin something with the mindset of doing it for yourself, but really, when it comes right down to it, you do it for the people you're with.

i love you

2006-09-11T14:28:57Z

Remember, I will still be here
as long as you hold me in your memory

cantando @ 2006-08-21T22:14:00

2006-08-22T02:14:41Z

nobody call my old phone! the new number is 240-367-4977.

cantando @ 2006-08-21T01:04:00

2006-08-21T05:04:46Z

Good lord; my mod is hotter than hell in summer.

cantando @ 2006-08-10T01:51:00

2006-08-10T07:52:36Z

"i'm losing you
and it's effortless"

but really, you're the one losing me.

cantando @ 2006-08-01T13:29:00

2006-08-01T19:58:12Z

Okay, Terry, here we go:

1. My flatulence could power a good-sized 3rd-world country. Like Haiti. Or the Dominican Republic.

2. I use tweezers/my fingers/my teeth to pluck out hairs on various parts of my body... and on other people's bodies, too.

3. I'm really bad at imitations, but I do them anyway.

4. The space between my nose and upper lip is really long (is it called cupid's bow?)

5. I have Barbie feet. Just look at them.. you'll know what I mean.

cantando @ 2006-07-23T12:50:00

2006-07-23T18:53:13Z

"But in his ignorance, he could both listen to the words of the reader and marvel, too, at the unspoken narrative of shapes, or concentrate not only on the script but also on the spaces in between. God was in the spaces, he was sure. God went to the very edges of the page."
--Quarantine, Jim Crace

cantando @ 2006-07-18T01:16:00

2006-07-18T07:25:34Z

I found my best friend tonight. Or, rather, she came out of hiding. It's what I'd been missing-- my excitement turned to spurts of orange juice rocketed out my nose and mouth. Twice.

There aren't many better things than stealing uncooked banana bread.

cantando @ 2006-07-14T12:44:00

2006-07-14T17:45:46Z

In my dream his eyes lit up when he saw me. I wonder how reality will compare.

cantando @ 2006-07-07T17:43:00

2006-07-07T17:44:18Z

vulnerability sucks. i hate letting myself down.

cantando @ 2006-07-02T13:29:00

2006-07-02T19:32:20Z

I don't know why I did it. You do, though.

We could have stood there together all night, and you never would have been the first to break the hug.

it's not necessarily what you think.

2006-06-30T22:30:43Z

What I am to you is not real
What I am to you
you do not need
What I am to you
is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
and I asked for the sea

This is nothing new
no no just another phase of finding
what I really need is what makes me bleed

What makes you feel the most alive? What's the one thing that when you see or hear or feel or smell or think it, you stop and gape and just.. emote?

cantando @ 2006-06-21T14:30:00

2006-06-21T20:30:47Z

It's summer. As Jeremy pointed out, you're only young once.

cantando @ 2006-06-16T12:35:00

2006-06-16T18:37:37Z

I feel sort of like I'm cheating. What I want is not here, but it feels so nice to be touched again. Maybe, though, I'm doing this for the wrong reasons.

cantando @ 2006-06-07T10:14:00

2006-06-07T14:17:03Z

Jeremy will be happy to know that I went to a Salsa lesson on Monday with Anna, and we plan on going to another one today.
We also did plyrometrics, hot yoga, and rowed a double, which I managed to flip.

I'm having fun here, but I want to go home.

How ironic :)

2006-06-02T17:06:05Z

What Makes You.. by SheBangs12
Your name?
Your gender?
What makes you sexy?	Your eyes
What makes you pretty?	Your style
What makes you loveable?	How fun you are
What makes you fun?	Your sense of humor
What makes you irresistable?	Your sweetness
What makes you cute?	How affectionate you are

Quiz created with MemeGen!

For anyone who didn't know: I'll be home June 10th.

Happy Juuuune!

2006-06-01T13:56:17Z

And I'm back.
It's going to take me a while to straighten out the memories in my head; which cathedral was in which city? Where were the gardens I ran past at 7 in the morning? No, I remember those things. I remember the pierogies that everyone loved; I chose to order something with feta cheese instead. I remember ordering trout and receiving a trout... entirely still in trout form. I tried not to look at its teeth or fins. I remember dancing, and I remember Bison vodka with the blade of grass in its bottle mixed with apple juice. I remember attraction, I remember kissing. I remember trying wine for the first time; I remember hating it. I remember Agnieszka, our courier. I remember being number 16 in our countoff that we only ever got right a couple of times. I remember the wave of shivers that ran through my body and the surge of emotion that swept through me, almost leaving me in tears, when we sang Salvation Is Created in that gorgeous white church in Wroclaw (which is actually pronounced Vrot-swoff). I remember the spires of Prague, I remember the gaudy cathedrals with thousands of other tourists gaping at their golden angels. I remember seeing the ghetto of Warsaw, I remember the music we made. I remember saying "si" to confused Polish waiters over and over again, mixing up my foreign languages. I remember tears at the last concert and how I never got sick of singing "i thank you God" or DP's "With What Shall I Come Before the Lord?" I remember never being able to remember how to say "thank you" in Czech, but never forgetting how to say it in Polish. I remember town squares with rowhouses of magnificent colors and designs. I remember the multitude of pigeons and the cobblestones on the streets. I remember gaping at musicians singing and playing instruments I had never seen before in the middle of the square in Prague. I remember being taken to W-Z (a club) in Wroclaw by an unhappy couple of police officers and laughing my ass off but still being a little scared with Jess and Christina the entire time. I remember comparing boobs. I remember the last night we all had dinner together and DP drunkenly joined us at our table and then the whole choir sang Wzobie Lezy together. I remember sleeping on the aisle of the bus, I remember Agnieszka's sweet "wakey wakey" over the loudspeaker when we would arrive at our next destination. I remember eating too many wafers, I remember the sesame pretzel sticks and almost being killed on the bus several times because our driver was insane. I remember the vendors and crossing over the famous Charles Bridge in Prague. I remember a close call with death by tram about 3 times in the same day-- once, I saved Margaret. I remeber "my soul's been naked in the dark", or the occasionally more appropriate "my soul's been hammered at the bar". I remember shopping in H&M and waiting in the line for the dressing rooms. I remember forgetting to listen to our tour guides and blocking out what they were telling me about the history of this cathedral or that castle-- I would stare at everything and nearly lose the group instead. I remember walking into bars and leaving 5 minutes later because of all the smoke. I remember traveling for 23 hours yesterday and how we all slept for about 45 minutes the night before because we had to leave for the airport at 5am; I remember partying at the underground music club and I remember passing out on the airplanes-- I slept even through takeoff and landing. I remember how grumpy everyone got around lunchtime every day when we were let loose and had to find somewhere to eat where everyone would agree upon. I remember having to pay to use the bathrooms, I remember having to pay for bread we didn't eat. I remember wanting to kill Margaret for being so opinionated and too argumentative. I remember asking her to put on liquid eyeliner for me and not caring that it looked so intense. I remember the beggar mother holding her child, sitting on the ground; she didn't flinch when I watched someone drop a few coins into the bowl beside her leg. I remember being frustrated at my camera's inability to capture what I saw. I remember being caught in a downpour while buying Bison vodka with Alex. I remember walking through the cemetery beind our hotel in Wroclaw. I remember when we first arrived in Prague: I took a shower and opened the windows of my room wide open and laid on the windowsill in my too-short towel and stared at the clouds and sunset. I remember the dazed smile I wear when I'm amazed by so much beauty.

And so I suppose my stream of consciousness is here; these are some of the things I remember.

I just traveled for 23 hours and my eyes are burning.

2006-06-01T02:13:12Z

I LOVE EUROPE.