Home Sweet Home

I got home yesterday

and let me tell you, the LES is looking beautiful

I've really learned my lesson

I promise to pack lighter next year

maybe I"ll bring only 20 pairs of shoes next time

but, this morning

I woke up in a room, alone

and it felt good

I could hear all the traffic on the Williamsburg bridge

and right outside my room door

was a patiently waiting pup

just dying to play fetch and lay on the couch

I had my mom's Spanish coffee

right out of my Hello Kitty mug

(college coffee is so nasty)

and a mom-let

with yellow american cheese on white bread

my classic favorite food

there was Spongebob

and lots of revolutionary things happened

Spongebob got round pants, and a booty

Patrick turned into a sexy woman complete with blond pigtails and red lipstick

I must say, he was a hottie

it feels so good to be home

where everyone wears shoes at all times

each street smells like a different type of food

halal is always the most tantalizing

and sometimes you run into a street fair (which made me oh so happy)

thai spring rolls, nom

and you don't see the same face,

or the same college sweatshirt or

ethnic print harem pants (oddly popular at Vassar) twice

I was just speechless as I walked around

I forgot how beautiful Essex Street is, it's an acquired taste type of beautiful

but lovely, and welcoming all the same

I got reacquainted with my non-edible-double-decker love Forever

I was on the L train and I had the fleeting worry

"oh my god, I have so much reading to do tonight"

I forget that those are the worries of the past,

goodbye Art History flash cards

(they really got to my head, I was working in the library the other day

and as I scanned out some books for a girl,

instead of telling her the due date, May 21,

I handed back the book and said 1921)

but, the triumph of the day was the noms

vegan Pizza from Vinnie's in WillyB

Barbeque chicken slice with vegan cheese

I load on the hot sauce and parmesan cheese and I'm just in heaven

granted, when I eat spicy food I feel like my lips swell

but it hurts so good

and who doesn't like a lil added lusciousness.

Fruit, Finals, & Frustrations

So, it's study week for finals

and I'm pleasantly overwhelmed

overwhelmed to the point

where I'm on my sixth hour

of sitting in the Deec writing my Hemingway paper

it hurts

just 2 finals, one paper, and 120 more Art History flash cards to memorize

oh, and a Dada collage, great

I bought some used books for my English class this semester

and I don't think I will ever do that again

because you wind up with a book

that someone has decided to permanently scar,

with pen, and odd insights

like on page 36 of my The Sun Also Rises

the person who had it before me

felt it necessary to look up all the French slang and cultural allusions

and now I can always know, since its forever there in blue pen

that Zizi is "French slang for peepee", wonderful insight

I'm trying to relish in academia,

and she taints it with the word peepee, come on

on a better note, the other day

the Deec had real live fresh fruit

not your normal apples and bananas kids,

pineapple! and strawberries!

I was the loon with the two plates of pineapples

and nearly all of the strawberries

I was also the loon who turned into a thief

and stole a bowl of fruit so I can have some happiness in

my dark, dusty room

being bad feels so good sometimes

especially when you can eat a nice big slice of pineapple before going to bed

nom, and everyone knows I'm dangerous around strawberries

so no more must be said about them

om nom nom fruit

Also, I have a large bug to pick with Raymond Ave (the block right outside of Vassar)

there is absolutely no place to get an ice cream cone

a real life, sugar cone

gosh, it's a simple request

but I'm so over wafer cones

they taste like Catholic communion

and I don't want my ice cream to taste like church

so instead I got an italian ice from the pizza place

it was the next best thing

its not the same as home

where you get an icee from the same Puerto Rican man on Delancey

who you've been buying from since you were little

man, do I miss home

but this icee was delish

it tasted like a scoop of childhood

now only if I could have a slice of childhood: a slice of Elio's pizza

you know, the microwaveable kind

that was always on sale when I was younger

and I would put it into the toaster oven

and wait wait wait

then cut it into little cubes

and nom nom nom

I can't wait to go home

I have five more days till I'm free

then its 3 months of shopping, puppy time, Coney Island

oh, and mom-made omelets,

that's the best part.

Learning to Drive & Escaping Avant- Garde Torture

So there I was, sitting in the

art history lecture hall

watching odd avant garde films,

think race cars, scrotums,

claustrophobic uteran imagery,

a tap dancing satyr, and ambiguous

asexual creatures with pink wigs and drag queen makeup (seriously)

which is basically the most

disturbing thing

that could possibly be happening

to a fragile girl

who still needed to do the footnotes

on her Dutch art history research paper,

a sad, poor girl who did not know just how long making footnotes actually takes

we were confined to that room,

for 3 whole hours

a fate my friend just couldn't deal with

so she utters these magic words, "I'll take you to Cold Stone"

(basically, with these words anyone could get me to fall at their feet,

and be at their every whim like:

oh haiiii, will you wash the dishes?,

and mind you I do not wash dishes, but I'd gladly comply

oh, will you rub my feet? yessir! what scent of lotion would you like?

clearly I'm a sucker)

specifically she said "If we leave, I'll take you to Coldstone"

with that sentence, the bells and whistles went off in my head

and we broke out only an hour into the torture

under the piercing gaze of our banshee-esque professor

off to Cold Stone we went, to get Birthday Cake Remix

it felt so good to finally have real ice cream

that wasn't being squeezed out of a machine in the Deec

real, creamy, nom ice cream, it was heavenly to experience

brownies, sprinkles and cake batter ice cream all over again

I don't think there's any better food than ice cream

spaghetti, pad thai and omelets are almost as good

anyhow, after the ice cream my friend suggests that I get into the drivers seat

of her nice, shiny, new car

mind you, I have never sat in the driver's seat of a car

and even more importantly, have never put my hands on a steering wheel

she is crazy, but she tried to teach me how to drive

and dammit! it was difficult, I'm surprised most people

can think about that many things at once

look to the left, look to the right, check the mirrors, gas pedal, brake, merge into a turn

I also never knew that a car moves without you pressing the gas

which honestly was quite off putting and a bit troubling to me

and the steering wheel can be turned all the way around

it was a whole new world

my gosh, it was overwhelming

and sometimes my feet had trouble finding the gas

and I apparently have a British tendency to drive in the left lane

but nonetheless I drove, learned not how to break violently

and didn't crash into Men's Warehouse

I wasn't blasting My Humps

but at this rate, that dream is becoming a possibility.

As I Eat an Apple in Prison...

Fireworks are going off inside of my cheeks right now, 

literally I look like my face is on fire

thats what my Art History 

midterm just did to me

not because it was extremely 

difficult or anything

but because my body's pigments react weird to stress

usually during a test, or anything 

anxiety producing

like when I had to do a whole presentation, in Spanish class

in the 8th grade about Matadors and their clothing

or when I had to give my AP Lit class a 30 minute lecture

about how love always equals death in One Hundred Years of Solitude

in the middle of speaking red blotches would form on my chest

like alternate maps of the earth

sometimes my stressed produced Russian looking masses, 

sometimes South American, 

who knows, but all my girl friends who would make fun of me 

eventually got these wretched "spots" too

anyhow

the Art History is over, over, over

onto other unfortunate happenings of my life today:

as I was taking the 10 minute part of my test

the part that I have been studying for a whole week for

the part that has rendered my life utterly banal

I was using a mechanical pencil,

or as we called them in our elementary school days,

a "lead pencil", only the coolest kids had lead pencils, 

not me, I had to find them on the floor, 

scooping them up and putting them in my bag

to mix with all the pencil shavings that would explode out of my 

cheap 25 cent sharpener

oh, the plight of children 

anyhow, I was writing the date of some Rembrandt painting

when my pencil point broke, the tip shooting into my eye

it got caught in my eyelashes 

thank god for mascara,

I knew those 5 or so layers would come in handy one day:my saviour from blindness

on another note, I am eating a green apple in prison right now, 

hoping my crunchy munching isn't bothering anyone, oh well

my new main concern is figuring out

why can't I bite into an apple without successively 

hitting my nose on it quite hard

and I feel like I'm the only person suffering from this

last week my nose ached for days from eating a massive apple

I should just give up and settle on more tame fruits, like grapefruit

boy, do I love grapefruit sprinkled with 2 Splendas

or slice my apples and carry around plastic utensils

I also have an odd love for plastic utensils, literally

I guess my quandary can finally be over now

The other day I read on AOL news some middle school kid got detention

for wittily responding to an "innocent statement": "push it in farther", with Michael Scott's 

famed phrase, "that's what she said"

what is the world coming to,

when I was in middle school kids would run around calling each other 

gaylords

I miss those days.

My First Pajama Jeans Sighting

Ok so there isn't much time,

seeing as I'm imprisoned again

cranking out essays

being exploited and worn down by rote memorization for Art History

I could literally tell you the date of every Rembrandt painting

in my sleep, in the shower I'll be washing my hair

thinking of Frans Hals portraits, reciting dates, 1614, 1664, 1609 on repeat 

like the Shwayze songs on my Itunes

I feel so oppressed

unable to fully enjoy menial activities like 

brushing my teeth, or slicing strawberries for my cereal

on another note, my real purpose for writing

was to share that I legit saw someone wearing pajama jeans today

yes, pajama jeans, those comfy psuedo denim leggings for those over 40

and those with no dignity 

[except I think my roommate could so rock a pair, but only she would be allowed to]

oh pajama jeans, providers of endless ridicule

in my opinion, you should have no place on a college campus,

but then again, neither should corduroy booty shorts,

[a true conundrum, blending winter with summer, something I never understood]

or full length red velvet coats, 

but god help me, I've seen that here too.

From the abyss,

Me

Enjoy the Pajama Jeans ad [It's a whole outfit!]

Calling All Rainbow Cookies

Dear Life,

I'm craving rainbow cookies 

and I would like you to deliver them 

right to my dorm room

I'll open the door and pretend to be suprised

and then I'll do the usual...nom them that is

layer by layer

pink then yellow then green

I'm going to be on Ambivalence Avenue

trying to figure out which I like better: 

the colors or the marzipan

Then I'll smile and thank you

I'll shut the door and shuffle back into my bed 

to study Art History

Love,

Me

P.S. Thanks Life, you're the best