Angels in the Library [Fresh(man) Baked Goods]

I love life right now

a little while ago

I was attempting to understand synesthsia and phantom limbs

whilst tackling a statistics assignment in Excel

when I got a frantic phone call at the library desk

it was a poor girl and she said "is there anyone there that can help me with Excel?"

she's probably an English major, or better yet, a Religion major

with no concept of what math is anymore

taking intro Econ

puts a smile on my face to know

I'm not in this boat alone

the next great thing that happened?

I found a book called

The Bagel:The Surprising History of a Modest Bread

which got my foodie senses tingling

and made me miss Astoria, home of the best, fattest bagels

just when I started feeling a growl rising in my stomach

a freshman from my dorm came over to the library, like a savior

and brought me a perfect square of apple crumble,

this isn't your run of the mill freshman

this is a supreme lady baker freshman angel

(she's out of this world cute: think neon pink berets and scuba masks)

who concocts delicious baked goods every single day

I hear a quiet knock on my door every night at around 8,

at peak study time, while I'm jamming to some JLO,

and she's there with a new treat

so far I've had to die for walnut banana bread

(I'm such a sucker for walnuts)

strawberry cupcakes,

oatmeal, chocolate chip peanut butter cookies

(the chocolate was gooey just like on TV)

and apple walnut bread,

the food gods sent her to live in my dorm

to help me combat the blues I get from

not being able to watch the Food Network

The library is poorly lit

(which is why I can't sit at my desk without getting sleepy crossed eyes)

so the crumble doesn't read in a photo as the shining beacon it truly was

but it saved me.

Hi Summer, I promise to cherish you.

To make a long story short

let's just say, I finally got my life back

and thank god because I recently suffered a rude awakening

when I received a picture message from my brother

of a Vassar bug that had come to wreak havoc in my apartment

with its long, spindly, abundant legs

rapid movements, and general fear inducing grossness

technology never fails to (literally) disgust me

and it took me back to those nights where whilst I screamed & cowered

my roommate would calmly attempt to trap these horrific bugs and get rid of them

and sadly I remembered the night one of the creatures fell into my bed,

never to be found

how this monstrosity ended up in my apartment, hours away from Poughkeepsie

still baffles me

but it was an omen, that bug said "oh hey gurrrrl,

your summer is flying by"

Sophmore year is soon approaching, love life while you can"

I'm quite thankful for the bug (I never got to actually witness it)

I miss the summers when jobs didn't matter

and on my little street in Astoria someone would open the fire hydrant

sending a gush of frigid water that all the kids on the block

could run through, cooling down, filling up empty Poland Spring bottles

to spray at each other

and kids from other blocks would come

excited by the impromptu & illegal sprinkler

we would block traffic, squirting water guns and screaming

and on the days where the sprinklers didn't come to us

the days were filled with big boxes of sidewalk chalk,

hand-scrawled hopscotch boards with pebbles sprinkled on the numbered squares

while eating italian ices, that never failed to drip cherry red all over our t-shirts

there were the countless hours spent riding my Yaak scooter

(Razors were just too expensive)

rolling down the small grassy hills of Astoria Park and

playing with my Skip-It, watching the numbers on the dial

hundreds of revolutions, and I would be worn out

I can't find my Skip-It, so now, a decade later

I settle for sweet picnics,

I abandon the age old pb&js for brick oven pizza,

the frozen Capri Sun pouches for Arnold Palmer Arizona

letting the smell of the grass, and the cherry juice that stains my fingertips

incite my nostalgia.

Crammed into Perfume Boxes.

I keep all of my old memories

in perfume boxes,

piled high in my closet

a pink floral print box

and a red quilted one

full of old notes,

passed back and forth in 7th grade history class

because our teacher was decrepit,

her hair was see through, and she always wore the same blue lab coat

every single day,

I'm sure everyone had a teacher like this,

ours was named Ms. Tobias

and could never tell when we were passing notes

or cheating on her weekly history exams

I have old letters in decorated envelopes

and empty boxes of Runts candies, those were my favorite

unfinished diaries, because I would always start one and after a week abandon it

and notebooks with lyrics scribbled in the margins

collections of twigs, rocks and feathers gathered in Astoria park

movie tickets and old photos that say Fujifilm on the back

I miss those days before digital cameras were big

when you would have to go to CVS to develop pictures

off your disposable cameras,

what they looked like would always be a surprise

and they would last forever

I sealed up my boxes before I left to college,

they still smelled

like a mixture of the park

mixed with Axe body spray, and Mike and Ikes

the smell of middle school and nostalgia

I think I'm ready to open them back up again

because the years are flying by

and damn, do I feel old.

Snowcones & Eden

Things were so much better in middle school

when Astoria Park was like Eden

because in my Eden

the boys are cute,

with awkward middle school haircuts,

band tees and skate shoes

in my Eden water balloon fights

are regular entertainment

and the rocky shores of the East River

littered with disintegrating porn magazines,

soda cans, and empty 25 cent bags of chips,

became our "spot"

a place to hang out, to have first kisses

on those warm spring days

all we needed was a one dollar slice of pizza

maybe a snow cone

if when you're a freshman in college, the conventional date

is a movie, maybe dinner

then, it was sharing a snowcone

an ongoing battle of who'd get to eat the red and blue parts

a game of caution, as to not let the rainbow drips

stain your shirt

playful pushing and pulling

holding hands even when in competition,

a balancing act

it was impossible to ever finish the whole thing

in the flirty, innocent tug o war

it would end up on the sidewalk, or in the grass

all the colors melting into a purple pool

but it was ok,

because kisses always tasted better after a snowcone

a chemical, icy-sweet taste

that I can still almost feel

because my nostalgia is bordering on synesthetic.

Classics on a Gloomy Day

I'm sick,

like wake up at 3:14 am and walk to the bathroom to blow my nose

and get a drink of water because my throat hurts so much sick

like sleep with a roll of toilet paper and Vicks under my pillow

because I've lost all normal function in my nose sick,

it's not a pretty sight when coupled with the downpour

that has plagued Poughkeepsie for the last two days

but I've found joy in other things today

the Classics,

well, at least the classics as I know them

which obviously involve food and nostalgia

since that is essentially what I'm made of

today I had cornflakes for breakfast

good ol cornflakes, which I sliced a banana into

and it made my morning just a bit better

that and the fact that my sociology professor

played the "smooth mellow beats" of LL Cool J

while bopping along to the beat in class today and doing an

almost fist pump

it was a beautiful sight

anyhow, the cornflakes were so great because they are a classic

it was definitely the first cereal I ever had

ask any Hispanic about cornflakes,

and they'll share that intimate connection that I have

"ahhh yes" they will say "con-flay"

just the way my grandma would say

just the way their grandma would have said it

"con-flay", and from then on all cereal comes to be known as "con-flay"

Cocoa Pebbles?:"con-flay", Lucky Charms?: "con-flay",

Raisin Bran?:"con-flay"

don't get me wrong, I love Cocoa Pebbles as much as the next person,

probably more (since I'm obsessed with cereal)

but Corn Flakes reigns supreme, like the rooster says "original and best"

yummmmers

with two big spoons of sugar and small banana slices,

what great texture

I've moved on to bigger and better things

like 3 packets of Splenda in my cereal instead of real sugar

(also obsessed with Splenda, I consume about 6 packets a day)

but the Corn Flakes have stayed true to me, yummy, satisfying and classic

like Strawberry Shortcake ice cream pops

I was totally craving one today

the mix of those little crumbs, and the chemical pink ice cream enveloped by the vanilla

on the inside simply makes me smile like a little girl again

sadly, Vassar does not keep its ice cream machine well stocked (boo)

and I had to settle for what I thought was a classic ice cream pop

like this ^, with that hard chocolate shell and soft vanilla inside

that just reminds me of Astoria Park, rolling down hills, and climbing trees by the East River

but the ice cream machine failed me once more!

false advertising, I got a fudge pop instead,

no smooth chocolate shell, no mushy vanilla ice cream inside

I was defeated, eating it on my way back to my dorm

grumpily reflecting on the lack of vanilla in my life

when, alas! I found that the sad little fudge pop had a vanilla center!

and at that point I felt simply triumphant

I miss Flinstone push up pops

they were orange and purple, and simply delish

ah to return to the 90s

when the freezer was always stocked with various freeze pops and treats,

frozen pizzas and TV dinners with the brownie on the side

now all I have in my freezer is a frozen burrito and 3 dumplings, sad

it was always so hard to push that thin plastic handle up when it was still freshly open

it took patience, but was so worth it

then the orange would melt down the cardboard sides of the pop

and create sticky hands,

that reminds me of summer

sticky hands always made it easier to show off on the monkey bars

Push pops, jump ropes, jungle gyms, Razor scooters and climbing rocks

sounds so good right now in this late March chill

when all I can think about is declaring a major, and planning out the next four years of my life

with this background noise about Russian Futurism and Post-Futurism

all I know is that I'm living post-90s and I'm not liking it one bit.