I'm All Shook Up!
These last few days I've been living like a madwoman. I'm taking a week-long journalism class from 9 AM to 8 PM at Columbia, and it's very strange feeling. I've taken this class every summer since eighth grade, making this my third, and I've been a different person each time I've taken it. I spent a while talking to Matt about this, and then to Harry: when I was younger, I saw all these things that people did--went to concerts, had great style, wrote good poetry, became well-read--and believed that they were what made people cool or interesting. Now I do all of those things, and I've come to see that the two are unrelated; having interests and passions are just side-effects of being a strong person. And in a moment of artistic despair I realized that having reached those markers doesn't mean anything if the core that they cleave to is absent. When I can't write I feel like I'm nothing. Then I thought a bit and talked to Matt and he said some very prolific things and I started to feel a bit better.
As a means of consoling myself in the only hour of spare time I found, I organized all the stray jewlery in my dresser. Do not let the simplicity of this task mask its difficulty. I own a lot of shit. I've forgotten about some things I have simply because they're so deeply buried that I never see them. Now I'm clearing things out, giving things away, and using what I have to take myself to a whole new level of style--MY style, a Veronica style that nobody else has. And I love the Veronica that chose those pieces, because each of them reflects and expresses me in a profound way.
At Columbia I'm meeting some really interesting people. They're all strikingly normal on the surface: I've been called "bohemian" four times in the last two days because I contrast so much to their outward appearances. But appearances aren't everything. They're something, I know; the way a person chooses to be seen reflects something about them. But some people like to dress as normally as possible so that they are noticed only for their personalities. I look at myself in comparison and wonder, is this cowardice, this mask of silver and bangles and antiquity?
Oh, and Harry's country house. We swam in the pool, ate fresh delicious food, watched three starkly different movies, discussed life with his parents, and woke up when we felt like it, which was refreshingly new to me. We watched Terminator II because last summer we'd watched Terminator I.
I have and will be writing in this, by the way, if you feel like checking it out. I have another poem in my head right now, but I can't write it just yet. It'll take a little while. I'll have it before I leave, folks, and if not, I'll have something else. I won't let it die.
I just got back from seeing All Shook Up!, a Broadway musical that uses only Elvis songs. The acting was terrible, but the song-and-dance numbers were dazzling, resiliant, enlivening. They superimposed Hound Dog and Teddy Bear and had four people singing different refrains at the same time and managed to make it sound amazing. Show me another musical that can boast that power!
I'm writing now, by the way, from the lobby of a glass-and-metal building called Lerner Hall at Columbia. They provide the students with free internet access--and the students provide me with amazing classical piano music, completely free of additional surcharges. I only wish I were given access to this campus all summer. My other class lets me audit any New School classes I'm interested in, but so far I haven't had time for anything. I love this campus, though. I love its granedur and privacy and safety and the novelty of its antiquity; I love the people who trust me; I love the teachers who don't look twice when you walk in an hour late; I love the conversion of people who share my interests and my desire to learn, and I love the confidence I've found in myself and showcased here. I don't feel pressured to constantly be with people, and I'm not friendless, even though it's only been three days now, so I get a perfect medley of experience, conversation one moment and solitary meditation the next. I don't feel intimidated by anyone, not even my teachers; I feel respect, and I feel respected. It's a lovely feeling, especially since half of it comes from me. I feel like I can take this person with me. I feel her presence inside of me.
And I finished Lolita on the subway this morning and am now devoting myself entirely to Ovid and Adrienne Rich.
In these respects, this week has been a wonderful one.
I've also recieved some horribly devastating news over the last week, some of which happened long ago, but as it doesn't concern anyone that my readers know I feel that providing details would only serve to disrespect those whom it affected most. I want only to convey my grief and mask its cause.
...and I have class now. Over and out.
As a means of consoling myself in the only hour of spare time I found, I organized all the stray jewlery in my dresser. Do not let the simplicity of this task mask its difficulty. I own a lot of shit. I've forgotten about some things I have simply because they're so deeply buried that I never see them. Now I'm clearing things out, giving things away, and using what I have to take myself to a whole new level of style--MY style, a Veronica style that nobody else has. And I love the Veronica that chose those pieces, because each of them reflects and expresses me in a profound way.
At Columbia I'm meeting some really interesting people. They're all strikingly normal on the surface: I've been called "bohemian" four times in the last two days because I contrast so much to their outward appearances. But appearances aren't everything. They're something, I know; the way a person chooses to be seen reflects something about them. But some people like to dress as normally as possible so that they are noticed only for their personalities. I look at myself in comparison and wonder, is this cowardice, this mask of silver and bangles and antiquity?
Oh, and Harry's country house. We swam in the pool, ate fresh delicious food, watched three starkly different movies, discussed life with his parents, and woke up when we felt like it, which was refreshingly new to me. We watched Terminator II because last summer we'd watched Terminator I.
I have and will be writing in this, by the way, if you feel like checking it out. I have another poem in my head right now, but I can't write it just yet. It'll take a little while. I'll have it before I leave, folks, and if not, I'll have something else. I won't let it die.
I just got back from seeing All Shook Up!, a Broadway musical that uses only Elvis songs. The acting was terrible, but the song-and-dance numbers were dazzling, resiliant, enlivening. They superimposed Hound Dog and Teddy Bear and had four people singing different refrains at the same time and managed to make it sound amazing. Show me another musical that can boast that power!
I'm writing now, by the way, from the lobby of a glass-and-metal building called Lerner Hall at Columbia. They provide the students with free internet access--and the students provide me with amazing classical piano music, completely free of additional surcharges. I only wish I were given access to this campus all summer. My other class lets me audit any New School classes I'm interested in, but so far I haven't had time for anything. I love this campus, though. I love its granedur and privacy and safety and the novelty of its antiquity; I love the people who trust me; I love the teachers who don't look twice when you walk in an hour late; I love the conversion of people who share my interests and my desire to learn, and I love the confidence I've found in myself and showcased here. I don't feel pressured to constantly be with people, and I'm not friendless, even though it's only been three days now, so I get a perfect medley of experience, conversation one moment and solitary meditation the next. I don't feel intimidated by anyone, not even my teachers; I feel respect, and I feel respected. It's a lovely feeling, especially since half of it comes from me. I feel like I can take this person with me. I feel her presence inside of me.
And I finished Lolita on the subway this morning and am now devoting myself entirely to Ovid and Adrienne Rich.
In these respects, this week has been a wonderful one.
I've also recieved some horribly devastating news over the last week, some of which happened long ago, but as it doesn't concern anyone that my readers know I feel that providing details would only serve to disrespect those whom it affected most. I want only to convey my grief and mask its cause.
...and I have class now. Over and out.
posted by VVM at 1:50 PM
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