I’m just twirling in the center of my room.
I’ve got way too much to do.
Has that ever happened to you?

I’m assailed, derailed and impaled by indecision.
I can’t find my lucky pencil and I have a final in 90 minutes
I have lab results to qualify and a term paper to finish.
I have two problem-sets due and I must arrange movers.
Despite my burn-out, I should start packing for move-out.
In order to get our reservations and tickets in hand,
we’ve got to finalize our summer plans.
On my theoretical schedule - I’m behind -
oh, and there’s a mountain of laundry to climb.

In finals week everything is ratcheted up.
and there’s the weighty and unavoidable demands of sleep.
I’m just a girl about to pass out in her room, over-caffeineed,
from chugging a large, iced coffee after 3 hours of sleep.
I’ve read that stress can affect valuations.
I think it’s true.
I twirl.
.
.

Down In the Seine by The Style Council
I Want You Back by Trijntje Oosterhuis
Make a Rainbow by Benny Sings
Let Her Go Into The Darkness by Johnathan Richman

Nobody told me how much life would change once I graduated. The immense feelings of nostalgia, I barely managed to dissuade it. My heart, in all its complexities and difficulties, yearns for all kinds of things, scenarios, people - feelings. my heart yearns to feel. love keeps me warm, but lately, I've been awake with alarms, ringing like a maddened storm.

I think of the people I no longer talk to, my mind can come up with a few. Do people get over this? or is this a mist you cannot miss, haunting like a broken wrist, a cruel fate twist, that drives you searching for some kind of bliss?

I am undone. There used to be so much sun, but now it's hard even just to have fun. Is it cowardice to want to run? I imagine buying a gun and aiming it at my head, a joke so blunt.

I lay awake yet again. Dreams used to be so grand. But now it's all so bland.

I don't want to be bland...

i want to text you tonight
and tell you that your campus
is totally haunted, and that it's
beautiful either way.

it was built on old mines,
from dead hopes and dreams
of the gold rush, but you
probably don't think that way.

you posted something about
how you can't find your classes
and nothing about how you live
in one of the most beautiful places.

on all sides there are mountains,
green and lush and soon to be
covered with snow, and i'd love
to be there with you in all of it.

i can't tell you, not for a long time.
it would be unfair to let you know
just how much i think of you
after all i said to you that night.

you post song lyrics like i did
when we first met, when we were
just kids running around town
with nowhere to be but together.

Memories can become blurry, over time,
like underdeveloped photographs,
or incomplete, like sunlight through blinds.

Our lives move ever forward,
like the inflexible patterns of stars.

Once fevered and immediate events
recede, with frightening, doppler effect,
as remembered yesterdays,
become forgotten yesterdays.

New Haven was abuzz. The hotels were booked and moving trucks had taken every free parking space for miles. Last Sunday was freshmen move-in day and 1,554 freshmen moved into their Yale residences. It’s one of our favorite days of the year. The hubbub of freshmen moving, lunching, shopping and later, seeing off their departing parents, created a delicious emotional chaos that we watched unfold, like a Greek chorus.

The movie ‘Love Actually’ begins and ends with montages of people greeting friends, family and loved ones at Heathrow airport - it’s emotional and heartwarming. Move-in days are a lot like that - with their gordian knots of beginnings and endings. My parents were nervous and emotional on my freshman move-in day - as was I - but we all tried, desperately, not to show it.

Welcome to New Haven freshmen, everything’s beautiful, but you’ll get too busy to enjoy it much.

We upperclassmen move in tomorrow.

five o'clock on Sunday night
we down two bottles of pink ******* wine - classy
Jesus Christ applauds our dedication to his
"this do in remembrance of me" mentality

after four ******* hours of straight communion
we are one with the universe
praying only for security in something
“don't judge me,” she says “don't judge me,”
we've reached that point

we found ecstasy in dizziness - in daydreams
sure enough, we found there was
some kind of magic quality
inherent in these substances
that we were guaranteed to abuse

but it seems we must have been
the worst of marksmen
because I know we matched each other
shot for shot that night
and never once made contact
**** that

we went from being worshiped to ignored -
untouchable
like the ******* gimps of the Hindu caste system
**** Karma
what did we do to be so low?
it didn't make good sense
so we just kept drinking
because that's the only thing that did

We were
People of another caliber
Not so
Concerned with things like college algebra
Still we
Had to pass our finals so we’d
Meet up
For about an hour to study
But when I got to your place
It was the look on your face
The only question I got to
Was

Where should I put
My hands on you
Where should I put
My hands on you

We went
Out to grab a cup of coffee
And we
Talked about our thoughts on philosophy
I was
Partial to more modern theory
But you
Still seemed to be hung up on Socrates
But as you waved your arms around
Your point was proven and I found
I ought to ask you what to do
So

Where should I put
My hands on you
Where should I put
My hands on you

Saturday mornings growing up
my mother made me clean the bathroom

. windex . bleach
. scrub brush . rags
. mop . bucket . broom . dustpan
. lots of paper towels

she insisted I clean the bathroom
every Saturday morning
before I did anything else
with absolutely no chance of an allowance
she paid me plenty she said

. shelter . food . clothing
. television . internet . video games
. books . some sort of education

not to mention

. life

“do it because you love me”

so waking up Saturday
meant cleaning the bathroom

it meant my hands reeked of chemicals
while my friends enjoyed games I couldn't join
it meant I missed the best of all
the cartoons everyone else watched
it meant I didn’t feel like loving my mother

for years I begrudgingly

. scrubbed . wiped . cleaned

that bathroom
until it sparkled - until it shined
like the top of the Chrysler building

. sink . mirror
. toilet . tub
. floor

all of it spotless
love you mom

then in college
there's this woman that I'm living with
this woman that provides me with

. shelter . food . clothing
. television . internet . etc.

and she makes me feel alive
so I clean her bathroom
and when she asks me, “why?”
all I can think to say is

“I did it because I love you”

and it feels like that's the truth