I wanted to post a picture of my bookshelf, but have lost the USB cord for my camera because I am a transient.  Last weekend there was a massive book sale for the public library and I scored a lot of books for $14.50 over a couple of days.  It was pretty epic and I take some joy from looking at the 24 volumes I purchased for the price of a new paperback at Borders.

( booklust like whoa )

Despite being sick and upset about everything I am doing my best to stay positive and find a job.  We have been watching a lot of "Spooks" because Richard Armitage is in it.  My new dream job is person in the makeup department who paints tattoos on people for film and television.  My mother tells me I need to get out more often and watch less television, but I find the outside world teeming with disappointment.  I am planning on going to a couple of shows soon, though, so I hope that counts for something.

Finally made it home for a three-day weekend. We're having our house reappraised next week, so it is a flurry of activity. On top of that we have to clean out Kathie's house, as it is going to be sold. I keep thinking my mom has bought a bunch of new things, and then realize they are Kathie's. I put out on my sewing table the tea set she gave me for graduation and sobbed. She had "shrines" all over her house and I guess this is mine to her, and everyone else I've lost.

On top of this, my mom thinks my dog, who is fifteen, isn't doing too well. I keep telling myself that God doesn't give you more than you can handle, but I'm not sure that's true (semester in Edinburgh, case and point). I'm not "dealing" with my grief and don't know how I could handle any more sadness. Each day is one more on the verge of tears.

I know my personality has changed and I'm sullen all the time now. This must be bothering my co-workers but I have trouble caring since I'm still very productive.

I think I'm going to sell my piano. How does one best go about doing that? We got it from my uncle's then-girlfriend's (now-wife's) mother. Since the wife is an evil woman I do associate some bad karma with the piano, or maybe that's just what my mother tells me. For awhile, when I was fourteen and fifteen, I taught myself how to play a few songs on the out-of-tune keys. I can still poke out a few, but since I'm tone-deaf I can only get so far. I always wanted to quote that Amy Hedges song that goes, "Spending time at my piano tonight," but I need to face my lack of musical talent. Seems like the piano is now just a display shelf for pictures and diplomas, and the bench is handy when people come over for dinner. Since I can't find a job I will need the money more than I need a dusty piano. It is sad, because I am sentimental about material objects, but compared to losing people it doesn't matter much.

Tomorrow after boxing things at my aunt's house and maybe going to the cemetery we're going to see my cousin, his fiancee, and the baby. That will be a nice thing. True is so sweet and joyful. My cousin & I have never been close, so visiting is always a little quiet and odd. Kathie really was the glue that held us all together.

I've been vacuuming books in the Bliss room lately. (There is seriously a 3D tour. The antiquities were only there during the art museum renovation and have since been removed, but the heavy furniture and gorgeous books remain.) It is very stuffy but also incredibly beautiful and inspiring. Imagine cleaning a room like a fairy-tale library, knowing that you are alone and everyone else is locked out. It is a sanctuary: one with bad air and a musty old-book smell, but also one teeming with history, literature, and art. It is a bit of comfort.

From Wikipedia:

Gehenna, gehenom, or gehinom (Hebrew: גהנום, Greek γεεννα) are words used in Jewish and Christian writings for the place where evil people go in the afterlife (see Hell).

We have a lot of books from Leonard Baskin's Gehenna Press, and once I looked it up because it was so close to my name. Didn't much like what I found, but now it seems fitting since I've been through hell. Like Dante. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my whole life, my personal Gehenna. My aunt was one of my closest family members, and losing her the way we did was the worst. We're talking about selling her house, and who wants what of her belongings. Her cottage was her sanctuary, and even when she wasn't in it, it felt like a manifestation of her. Dismantling all that feels a bit wrong, but we have to deal with the pieces left behind.

I'd like to have my personality back. I can still joke around a bit, and in grief I've laughed as well as cried whilst exploring memories; yet it's not the same. I'm not the same. Everything has changed, maybe the course of my life has. I don't want to talk, usually. I just want to escape. I've been reading and watching adventure stories--Kathie called just about everything an adventure, come to think of it--and dreaming of an epic life. Escapism at its finest.

I'm house/cat-sitting right now. The cat is not a fan of me being here. I don't know if I like the alone time or not. Sometimes I need to be alone with my thoughts; for the week that I was home, I was hardly ever alone. Yet I also feel lonely and apparently depended on the constant hugs I had during that time. I know that everyone who has ever grieved has felt like this, or worse, but that doesn't make what I'm feeling any less raw or real.

While looking for Kathie's will at her house I found an illustrated book of Yeats poems. "Lake Isle of Innisfree" is in there. She had birthday cards and prayers she'd written down tucked between the pages. Later, at the funeral home, I looked more closely at what she'd written on the rosy stationery and she had copied down the poem again. I had no idea she'd even read the poem when I picked it, and yet here she is, guiding me.

On Wednesday my aunt Kathie went to the hospital, which she does every so often because of her asthma. But this time she didn't make it out. The ambulance driver said when they pulled up to her house she was standing in her driveway with her bag, looking ready to hit someone over the head. But she went into cardiac arrest & they couldn't revive her. I never though I'd get that phone call from my dad.

Kathie was only 52. She was so alive, a bright star, and as one of my relatives noted, you can't mention her without laughing. There are so many funny things she's said and done that make me smile. I had lunch with her, my other aunt, and my cousin on Saturday and she was silly and exuberant as usual. But she had a hard life, I think a lonely life at times.

The worst part is that her grandson will never know her well and she won't get to see him grow up. He is only ten months old and has been the love of her life every second since he was born. She took so much joy from him and it is terrible that they have been separated.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I have to go through every day now knowing she won't be around, that I will never see her again. I have lost people before, many times, but never someone so active in my life, so suddenly, without any sort of goodbye or expectation. Everything reminds me of her. I feel numb and cried-out and sleepy; I keep hugging my mom but I'm out of things to say.

I'm going to read this at the funeral: ( The Lake Isle of Innisfree )

Kathie loves Irish things, Celtic music, Gaelic. I think she would appreciate it. Mom found an e. e. cummings poem in a photo album we got her for her birthday in March, one dedicated to the baby. Kathie's friend pointed out that was such a Kathie thing: objects tucked in with others, memories piled together by feelings rather than organized. A lot of love and memory remains for us to sort through, and all the while I can't believe she's gone.

(A few favorites; three traditional dudes and a modern lady.)

( Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet I )

( When I have fears... )

( Who Goes With Fergus )

( Mise Eire )

I'm starting to think that if I don't find a Real Job around here, I should just move to someplace random and try to make myself. I need to get away from everything I know (well, most of it) and figure things out, figure myself out. I am really sick of driving though, so it will need to be a city. Anyway, something's wrong & I can't quite describe or pinpoint it yet.

My baby brother graduated from high school today. It is pretty crazy that he is all an adult now, probably more of an adult than I am. I realized that I don't remember much of my life before he was born, which was when I was four. Hmm. He is a good kid and I am very proud of him. At least he will have a job, as he is going to be an engineer.

Went to a Rustic Overtones concert last night and it was, like all outdoor concerts in Maine, a little bit of an acid trip. All the hippies came out. There were some unfortunately scantily-clad people (muffin tops ahoy), far too many dogs, and middle-aged couples feeling each other up. Notably, there were two white chihuahuas in Harley Davidson T-shirts. One of them seemed to have fur missing from between his eyes and had diamond-shaped sunglasses (of the pince-nez variety) on his face. The owner of said dogs had one on his shoulder whilst dancing in the crowd, like a drunken parrot-laden pirate.

G-wen & I saw Star Trek yesterday because she hadn't seen it yet. It continues to be totally awesome the second time around. I need the action genre to keep my life exciting. My best idea for the evening is looking for Trainspotting on Google Books and trying to read parts of it out loud.

We are watching white people fail extravagantly at exploring Africa on the History Channel right now. There is something incredibly imperialist about all this.

I don't agree with Giles Coren on vegetarianism or a few other things, but I agree with everything he says here in a total and amazing way. I am astonished at how hilarious, offensive, and excellent this column is. As the only non-sandal-wearer I know, it is good to have a kindred spirit.

Oh, and my letter to the editor got published. Scroll down; it got titled "Excuses or Action?" Random people, like my high school history teacher (who is a BAMF), have complimented me on it. I like to spread my wisdom as well as controversy while I'm home.

During my first week back wage-slaving at Bobo, Hillary and I have watched a lot of television and films (notably Master and Commander, during which I kept singing "I'm on a BOAT!"). We keep seeing the commercial for the Nissan Cube, which looks like the result of Apple making milk vans. And yet, said commercial wormed its way into my mind tank and poked all the things I love. New Young Pony Club's "Ice Cream" is playing throughout: I had just downloaded it and you know I love eighties-sounding Britpop. The car appears to start with a BUTTON (crazy, I know) and has media hookups for iPods or whatever. To top it all off, the commercial shows the passengers getting groceries IN REUSABLE BAGS out of the car at the end.

I turned to Hillary and was like "WANT." She pointed out how clearly the car was marketed at young people, and damn, does that marketing work. Logically, I know that I like my current car a lot and this Cube thing is ugly, but clever marketing has made it shiny and attractive to me. It's a good thing I have studied so much theory here and read that Adorno and Horkheimer essay on mass culture, otherwise I would be utterly susceptible to advertising and constantly buying things. It's a good thing I am not impulsive with money.

...though I did go see Star Trek again today. But, just so you know, it is just as good, if not better, the second time round.

I just ground up a bag of coffee beans for my godmother and found this entirely too entertaining, which proves that I am, in fact, simple. Now I smell like coffee and it is divine. Funny how weird coffee beans taste straight when they're not covered in chocolate.

Headed back to school tomorrow to work for the summer. I am ambivalent. It will be great to see people again but I'm not looking forward to being hot and tired and photocopying for 35 hours a week. Yeah, I have some projects for the summer, but right now they are Finish Processing Mitchell Videos and Rewrite labels on Like 500 Bern Porter Collection Folders. Nothing too great. If it were up to me it would be All Rare Books All the Time, but as I am a lackey it's nothing so exciting. I just get to aggravate my wrists for two and a half months lugging heavy shit around.

My mom is convinced that this will get me a permanent job, but I'm pretty sure they've frozen all new hires at the college for another year. Besides, I have four bosses. What the hell would they do with another staff member? I'm completely jaded about the job situation (haven't heard back from the Island yet, sad face), and have to explain things like No, George Mitchell will not give me a job, etc. There's another position in Portland I need to apply for (for which I need to apply, English major, hello), so maybe I'll get on that tonight.

We're headed to my godparents' soon because they can't seem to get enough of me. I mean, I'm pretty boring and ideologically different from my godparents. We don't have much to talk about and I have a tendency to be Kind of a Bitch when I am bored at someone else's house and hungry. Or when 10 people are suddenly in my dorm trying to move me out, as was the case after graduation. They were witness to this (read: victims) and so are apparently masochists.

On an entirely separate note, does anyone find Hesperos difficult to navigate? One of my friends more or less reacted "what" upon encountering it and now I am concerned. I know splash pages are a bit passé but I do my best to work with the little code I can still remember. So, particularly if you have a Mac, tell me if something's amiss? Kthx.

Ugh. Not looking forward to a road trip + moving all my crap into an apartment tomorrow. Oh goodness, and cooking. Try to be positive. Now that I don't have schoolwork, I am free to spend as much time as I feel like hanging out and being social. Hopefully "being social" will not become "watching a lot of BBC while on Facebook." I am so behind on my social development. It is absurd and a bit sad. I've really got to work on getting out, talking to people, asking questions, not being nervous.

I have a degree!

Pointless entry ahoy:

I have heard a couple of pretty great phrases lately (and only made up the first one): crack Frisbee, onslaught of sperm, and beard fuckery.

On Wednesday I have two papers due & do not wish to write either of them. I know that writing 15 pages on Shakespeare's sonnets is not going to make the world a better place. Were I writing about Sir Philip Sidney, then maybe it would, but I am Not Excited about Shakespeare. I have also been thinking about James Joyce a lot lately but have no idea why. Also this sociology paper continues to specialize in busting my balls. Data analysis is stressful and pointless when all you're doing is analyzing how students use Facebook. Anyway I'm halfway through the Shakespeare paper and really want my professor to surprise me by saying 10 pages instead of 15. He did say this once (contrary to the syllabus) and I am hoping it was not just a slip.

My honors project is finished and I have my oral exam on Thursday. I should be more excited/relieved but there is still a lot to do and I am actually rather bummed out about graduating. I would be more excited but recently I've been meeting a lot of cool people and wish I had done so earlier.

Today I went to a "stuff a bag for $5" sale at Estilo and got a frigging trench coat. & a sweater. For five dollars. Yup.

I'm reading this book called Small Island that I got from the social studies department when I graduated high school. It is really mediocre, putdownable. I keep looking at my shelves and realizing all my books are at home, then opening I Was Told There'd Be Cake to a random page and reading it. I've started Catch-22 twice but haven't progressed, possibly because of the note left me on the title page. Maybe I should read Dune. I've had it for years. I miss reading books and liking it. Well, if I'm on an island next year I guess I'll have a lot of time to read.

Just wanted to post one of my Santigold pictures. The other couple I managed to take were less awesome. I would like to point out that the fly girls have checkered wayfarer sunglasses, which I totally plan on copying now.

( can't pull us under )