Right now I'm sitting in the séance room alone; we just went to Ms. Smith's* sheet music giveaway, which had some cool stuff--I got 3 things: Kabalevsky variations, Jim Brickman anthology, and Leiber and Stoler. I said thanks when we were leaving, and she asked me what I got and was like, "Oh, great, I was hoping you'd find the Jim Brickman."
So yeah, now it's lunch. And Shelby* asked Joe* if she could talk to him, which I'm hoping brings some kind of understanding or reconciliation. I'm waiting for them to be done talking, and I should be finishing my Spanish homework, but that doesn't really matter.
I see Aneea today. I'm deciding whether or not I should tell her about Saturday...
Saturday:
-Alice came over, and we had bagel bites for lunch. Then we went to the Saratoga library and took pictures in the orchards for Photography class.
-John came over around 4:30. We all hung out in my room, ate tacos for dinner, had neapolitan ice cream for dessert, and went to Downtown Los Gatos.......
-We fed Percy because I was caring for him while Hannah's family was at Pajaro Dunes.
Sunday:
-Performed in band that morning (it was really bad). I played "Overcome" during Communion, and I had to play that dumb African hymn, "We Are Marching in the Light of God." Was complimented by the elderly. Never good.
-Came home. Didn't do homework like I should have.
-Went to Sunday Friends and worked with Gregoria and Carmen, reading "Los Cuatro Acuerdos" in English (the Four Agreements). Problems with their pronunciation. I am beyond lucky to have mastered the English language, and even luckier that I have Spanish under my belt, too, so I am able to help in classes like these. I want to do so much more with ESL in the future.
-Went to Dartmouth interview.
-Came home.
Poems I've written recently:
0124111
My lids are oppressed by gravity,
but they rest on scaffolds of loss and worry,
unable to close.
Little time I lay dreaming last night;
How I long for more...
Youth--
Bundled up, scorched, and plastered
by imminence and unregulated desire,
a caged bird finally free--
How I long for more...
I am no longer blind to the sensation,
no longer stitched together with
white thread by the shimmering maternal needle--
How I long for more...
0126111
Do not bother with being new
Focus on no other but the truth
Your dreams and fancies are not sold
They rest alone, waiting to be told
The mind is a street, a burden, a flame
The white cloth of art I do not wish to mame
Call myself a poet? I will not--
I am nothing more than a rhymer of thought!
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