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.

Birthday Cake Remix [The Song of my Heart]

When I sit alone at Vassar

with only the solace of a sometimes working fro-yo machine

that emits "fro yo" that just tastes like bad vanilla soft serve

not the tart tangy goodness that I'm used to

the kind that goes with chopped bananas and strawberries

and kiwis and pineapple 

[its sad when you're at college and the one thing you crave is fruit]

because all the dining hall has is

half sweet oranges, not quite ripe bananas, and apples :/

so my heart yearns for Cold Stone

the creamy, yummy, almost sexy goodness of 

those ice  cream confections

and when I think about the combination

of cake batter ice cream, brownies and sprinkles

my heart sings a ballad

a lamenting melody

because, what can be worse than impostor fro yo?

absolutely nothing... except not having Cold Stone...or fresh fruit

so basically, when I got Cold Stone

and ordered that Gotta Have It! Birthday Cake Remix

my heart no longer sang its sad ballad

but it began to bump

some electro beats

and I filled that empty Cold Stone 

on that cold winter day

with music, loud music, and smiles

and now, as I watch Iron Chef from 5 years ago

I'm craving ice cream

for it is my one, true love.

P.S. I hate college food, I'll never go back.