crowdthink

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
-Ezra Pound

Two things must be noted about today before I continue. I am wearing day-old make-up (saves supplies, time, and money), and the first song to come on my iPod shuffle was Faith Hill "There You'll Be" from Pearl Harbor. Wow. This song used to make me cry; today it sent me out the door and on my way with a quarter for lunch and a pat on the bum.
Also, I picked up the newspaper on my way up the stairs to campus, and read the blackness that keeps spilling out of Wall Street. (This detail becomes key later on, I think--no promises as I haven't gotten there either.)

So I'm reading the news, listening to Faith Hill, and trying not to rub my eyes as I make my leisurely way past the Maeser building. Right when I hit the JSB, the clock strikes ten to and rush hour begins. I suddenly find myself in a huge crowd of students, and with survival fresh on my mind (aha! from reading the newspaper) I stick out my elbows and determine to be faster than them all.

Some of you know I am very good at speedwalking. Speedwalking is a talent I nurture for occasions such as this. I had no deadline or destination, but I started booking it. It felt very important to walk very fast in this situation, and it had something to do with winning.

I just thought of another time I had a similar experience, but on a scooter. Freshman year, my roommate Steph had a little razor scooter--in fact, razor scooters were all the rage at BYU my freshman year. Steph let me borrow her scooter to go take a test on the other end of campus, which I did successfully (unless it was HEPE--worst test score of all college.) The trouble happened on my way back to the dorms. Just between the Kennedy Center and that one science building, I came upon a crowd of people, and rather than slow down my scootin', I very obviously rushed past all the people. They noticed. Scooters amplify the noise of every rise and fall between sidewalk slabs. I made it out in front of the pack, and as I was breaking to walk up the stairs southwest of the twilight zone, I hit an especially big rise in the sidewalk and spilled out across the pavement. Scooter one way, me the other. No one stopped, no one said a thing--no one laughed! I could have been invisible. The people I had passed so earnestly now filled in around me, acknowledging my presence only in their care to not step on my head. That was a sad day. But it is proof--I become quite dangerous in a crowd.

A coolie cool ad

Awkwardness--variations on a theme

As I walked down the stairs in the JFSB (four flights, to be precise), the air smelled increasingly like dirty feet. Explain this.
*
My professor mentioned today that he likes to compliment the parents of every baby he sees..."my, what a lovely baby you have." Why babies? Why do the requirements for loveliness get so demanding as we grow? Cause we all know there are some ugly babies out there (none of yours, of course), and yet, being a baby is enough for us to overlook the way they look.
*
The Harold B. Lee library is out to get me. Or at least reveal to me my social-ineptitude. I roll up to the fifth floor, hoping to get my study on, and find my first obstacle: choosing a table. Do I sit at a table with only one empty seat--cozy, but presumptuous? Do I sit at a table with two seats taken on one side, and two seats open on the other, throwing off the balance of the universe? Do I sit at a table with one person on each side, forcing me to choose which party I sit by? Do I sit at a table with one other person, and do I sit next to, across from, or diagonal from this person, and what does each choice imply? And if I am choosing to sit at a table with people already there, do I pick the one with the most attractive boys (also presumptuous) or the least threatening girls?
(If you're curious, I chose the completely empty table.)
But upon choosing, my trouble is not over.
My social conscience cannot rest, because now I have to wonder what to make of who does or doesn't sit by me. "I've been sitting here alone now for 20 minutes. People continue to walk past, finding seats, and yet, not at my table. Do I smell? Am I scary-looking? Are they trying to tell me something?" Finally a boy approaches my table, pulls out the chair next to me, and asks if he can borrow it to sit at another full table. Awesome. Not only do you not want to sit by me, you want to anti-sit by me--and prevent others from sitting by me. Then, insult to injury, a couple sits across from me, snoggling over their computers and playing footsie with me by mistake. Sweet.

Loyalties

Dear earth,

I'm sorry I have forgotten you so quickly. It used to be all you all the time, and you've probably wondered where I've gone. Inside, for starters. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you...the fluorescent lights, the manufactured air, the unnatural white/beige color scheme, the hushed voices and subdued movements. There will never be enough windows to remind me how it FEELS to be outside.

You've been trying to catch my attention, I know. Last night, as I walked from class to class, I saw the sky, startled into seeing by its boldness, and I remembered how I used to say good morning to the sky and eat my lunch under its watch. And walking to a meeting in the dark, you made the crickets shout...how long had they been going before I noticed, because when I did--what a din!

I'd like to promise that I will be more faithful. I cannot.

For now,

cath

George Banks is saying NO!

My iPod was acting up today (this is nothing new) so I restarted it. It's how we bond. We bond a lot. Pretty much every day. After restarting it, I was heading into a luncheon so I put it my pink bag and forgot about it. Later, while catching the end of the slightly off pitch live version of "Hey Jude" in Brigham Square, I thought, "hmm. John Lennon (or was it Paul McCartney) sure did a nice job of singing this song. Maybe I'll listen to it." I pull out my iPod, turn it on and find that it is EMPTY. I'm in playlists, hoping it's a mistake, so I scroll back to artists. EMPTY. Apparently, she shall not have music wherever she goes. This is dire.

Today also happens to be one of those days where no one looks me in the eyes. They are all too focused on my feet, and yes, I am wearing boots with fringe that sways while I walk. Would you like to talk about it?

Finally, having concluded that I would skip the devotional to do my homework, I headed into the library and made it to a computer when...the fire alarm went off. Suspicious. Very suspicious. I know BYU and it's subtle ways of encouraging us to go to devotional--closing all services, playing weird bell music, and the like--but a fire alarm in the library is just taking things too far.

Who's George Banks?

ME!!!

It is lovely indeed!

The thoughts of the earth are my thoughts.
The voice of the earth is my voice.
All that belongs to the earth belongs to me.
All that surrounds the earth surrounds me.
It is lovely indeed, it is lovely indeed.

Navajo Song

Fall--I'm ready for you.

Isn't it nice to know?

Depending on the day, I'm in a Yahoo! or a Google mood. Google's home page is so refreshingly sparse and unimposing, allowing me to take the initiative in what I see or read. I love that little text box of wonder which brings up fascinating results if you know what to put in. Yahoo!, on the other hand, is a barrage of advertisements, news stories, pop culture plugs, etc.; and the page is so distracting that I've forgotten what I wanted to search for if I had something in the first place. Who cares about contemporary literary theory, for example, a woman just grew a six foot zucchini! I thought that that kind of freak garden incident only happened in The Bernstein Bears (when Papa and Farmer Brown are competing in the pumpkin contest and they pull all kinds of tricks out for beefing up their produce), but no. Some of us are living normal lives and some of us are living in the shadow of our own squash. Literally. (Although the article did note that the zucchini was a 'shock'. Good to know.)

Seeing this kind of news make the front page of Yahoo! search engine brightens my day. Isn't it nice to know that in times of controversial war and political division, we can all come together over giant veggies? This story can brighten your day too, just don't get distracted by the top 5 celeb moms on your way to the link.

Looking back

By the time I get my pictures on, I'm so sick of Blogger that I want to say nothing else. I hope you enjoy these pics as much as I enjoyed my summer.