drownedinlight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drownedinlight) wrote2011-04-07 11:43 pm
drownedinlight) wrote2011-04-07 11:43 pm
Entry tags:
Journal and Suspension Part 1
So today was actually a really good day, some things withstanding. For starters, it was gorgeous out today, high of about seventy-five rolling through the campus on occasion (and that was your weather forecast, and now your local traffic update). But it was seriously beautiful out. At first I wore jeans and a dark tee-shirt, because I was trying to get into character for a monologue I would perform later that day. Anyway, I go to the library to do some reading and writing, because I usually have an hour to two hours (depending on when I get up and go to breakfast and stuff), before class, after breakfast, that I like to take either in the library or our visual arts center depending on the day, because of which is closest to my first class. Since my first class is in the theatre on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I usually go to the library. So I'm in the library and my phone goes off reminding me that I have a meeting with my creative writing teacher to discuss writing and class and all that good stuff.
Because of that, I had to get my stuff and jog across the quad (a very slow jog, more like a canter really), to go to my meeting, increadibly grateful that I put things into my phone. But my creative writing professor (whom I've gone on a rant about before), is really cool, and it was just across the quad, which is like five hundred feet or something, so it wasn't that bad. When I got there, we talked about class for a little bit, but the biggest part of our meeting was discussing an essay I'm writing for a scholarship competition, for which I asked Charlotte to be my advisor. She asked me if I could go and write a second draft really quickly (if I had time) and get it back to her for which I could do, because I still had something like forty-five minutes before class. So I went back to the library, sat down and made the edits that she marked, printed it out (along with my workshot submission for class), and then went back over to Swannanoa, the creative writing building, to give back the essay to her. After that I only had a little while before class, so I just decided to go up to the theatre and read.
Then...there was acting dynamics class. I was actually supposed to give this monologue on Tuesday, but my professor's son got sick, so she had to cancel class. Then I had to wait through warm ups, and her giving everyone else feed back before I finally got up to perform. I forgot some of the feedback she had given me when I performed it before, but for the most part I got told that it sounded really sincere (I was confessing my love to someone) that and I should try and move my arms around more and not be so stiff. We did another activity after that where you can make any kind of scene you want out of a set of dialogue.
After that it was lunch, and when I went into the dining hall, I contracted the most massive headache I've had in a while. Usually I don't really get bad headaches and migraines (knock on wood) but this would just not leave me alone. It started getting so bad that I had to ask my friends if they had painkillers (one of them did, praise Jesus), but then after lunch I had to go to work. I do a lot of data entry at my on campus job, and when I sat down at the computer and tried to focus, it just made my headache worse. So I went in to my boss and told her that my head was killing me and I needed to leave and go lay down. She agreed with me and I told her I would make up my hours tommorrow and next week.
Then I get to my room, and set an alarm for an hour and a half so I can get up for class, and it's boiling in the room, so I strip down and open the window (okay, I was wearing a t-shirt and underwear just in case my roommate came back, which, she does), but I had to close the window after a little while, and the shades, because I think I really had a migraine, because it was affected by light and sound. Then my roommate gets back, and she really was as quiet as she could be, so I guess I felt her pain of when I get in late at night.
My alarm went off after a while, and I had to get up, but I couldn't really find the clothes I had been dressed in at first, so I grabbed a pair of kapris I had lying around, and a pink shirt that planned parenthood was giving out in the dining hall. Oh, and I still had the mirgraine, and I still had to go to class. So, since it had been about two hours since I had the advil my friend gave me, and I wasn't feeling any better, I decided to take some tylenol on top of that. Then I walked off to class, still greatly affected by the bright light of post midday and the sounds and the temperature.
It was not until about twenty minutes into creative writing that I began to feel relief, and over a five minute period, my mirgraine slowly trailed off into nothing. We were doing an excercise outside when this happened, and when we went back to the room to do workshops I was kind of...loopy, shall we say? I was speaking really slowly and things were going right over my head, so eventually I just stopped talking and waited for class to be over.
Once it was, I followed Charlotte back up to her office to get my revision of my second draft, so I could fix that and then send it off across the interwebs to be submitted. I went to the library and wrote a book review first, but then I did that and then I went to dinner. Hung out with friend A for a while, then with the Potters, two of whom are in my creative writing class, and noted just how loopy I was.
Then I went back to my room for a bit, got nothing done, and then I went to orchestra, came back and tried to write something which I'm just finishing now. Here's a story:
She sat across from Julian their bodies almost touching, knee to knee, breath to breath as they knelt in the grass their hands resting on their thighs. He wore a pair of jeans, but his shirt had been lost to the warm summer air, and she was covered in a soft, muslin dress, the skirt pulled tightly over her bent knees. It was rare they received moments like these, and those who would deign to take them apart. They had arrived to the spot early to say their special goodbyes, ones not meant for speaking. The air was calm, though she could feel her heart racing all around them.
An unnatural light shone across her eyes, and she opened them to stars covering her vision. She swatted at him, apparently too fast for her cousin to maintain his grip on the flash light.
“What did you do that for?” he asked, picking it up in two parts. She could barely make his scowl out against the color spots flooding her eyes.
“It hurt,” she said simply, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s time for school. Mom wants you to get ready and come downstairs.” He was still scowling at the broken flash light as he left the room.
She rubbed at her sore eyes as they adjusted to the dim light of morning around them. She pushed off of the frame of the bed with her hands, landing flatly on her feet. She wandered toward the door, closing it, before she stripped off her clothes on the way to her small closet. She pulled on a pair of clean underpants up her legs and around her hips, before she examined her choices of clothing. Much of her clothing had yet to arrive, but clean and hanging in the closet was a blouse covered with streaks of greens, yellows and red, with large butterflies on top of them. It had a lacy back, so it was not very appropriate for school, but…
She ran her fingers over the smooth fabric of the blouse, and thought of Julian, who had given it to her. Of that last night she had had with him, before fear had sent her away.
“Gwendolen,” her aunt said entering the room. Gwendolen turned to face the older woman, who was brightly flushed, and wondered why her aunt was more ashamed of her body than she was. “Oh, I’m sorry; I’ll remember to knock next time. But breakfast is on the table, you might want to get a move on, if you want some.” The truth was, she had not been hungry since she had to leave Julian and the others. Now she mostly felt snapped in half. But she could not tell her aunt that.
“All right, thank you Aunt May,” she said. The older woman scurried out of the room, and Gwendolen turned back to the closet, running her fingers over the blouse one more time. She pulled a clean chemise free from a hanger, and pulled it over her head, before she added the butterfly blouse and pulled an oyster colored, ankle length skirt up over her hips. A pair of stockings slid onto her feet, right before a pair of boots. She pinned up the top portion of her hair, letting the rest flow free, before she grabbed a thin, grey cotton jacket to cover up her back should her aunt or someone objected to how much skin she showed.
Gwendolen trotted through her aunt and uncle’s hall until she came to the kitchen, where the breakfast nook was set with four bowls. The last was left unoccupied for her.
“I hope you intend to wear that jacket, young lady,” her uncle said as she sat down at the table. “We don’t want you starting out your first day giving the wrong impression.” She nodded around a mouth full of oatmeal.
“If you don’t want her to give the wrong impression, you should make her take off that dumb necklace she’s always wearing,” her cousin remarked.
“Zackery, we’ve been over this,” his mother reminded him. “You aren’t allowed to call your cousin stupid.”
“I wasn’t, it’s just she always wears it,” Zackery retorted. “And I mean, look at it.” It was a pewter tree set into an opal, and Gwendolen rarely, if ever took it off. She let her dark hair fall over her breast so it was less visible. “God, I hope no one guesses that we are related.” Secretly, in her heart of hearts, Gwendolen hoped that too, because even though they had the same dark hair and turquoise eyes, they did have different last names. So maybe no one would guess that she was cousins with someone as rude as Zackery.
“That’s enough I think, and the bus will be here soon,” Aunt May said, standing to go back to the kitchen counter, to lift two brown paper bags into the air. “Here are your lunches and your bags are by the door.” Zackery jumped up and took his as quickly as he could, launching towards the door, before Uncle Howard could remind him to clear his bowl. Gwendolen rinsed and deposited her bowl in the sink, before she accepted the brown bag from Aunt May. With her jacket over her arm, she picked up her bag and walked out the open front door. Aunt May had followed her there, and called out, “Have a good day sweet heart!” Gwendolen turned back and waved, before she ran to catch up with Zackery.
Because of that, I had to get my stuff and jog across the quad (a very slow jog, more like a canter really), to go to my meeting, increadibly grateful that I put things into my phone. But my creative writing professor (whom I've gone on a rant about before), is really cool, and it was just across the quad, which is like five hundred feet or something, so it wasn't that bad. When I got there, we talked about class for a little bit, but the biggest part of our meeting was discussing an essay I'm writing for a scholarship competition, for which I asked Charlotte to be my advisor. She asked me if I could go and write a second draft really quickly (if I had time) and get it back to her for which I could do, because I still had something like forty-five minutes before class. So I went back to the library, sat down and made the edits that she marked, printed it out (along with my workshot submission for class), and then went back over to Swannanoa, the creative writing building, to give back the essay to her. After that I only had a little while before class, so I just decided to go up to the theatre and read.
Then...there was acting dynamics class. I was actually supposed to give this monologue on Tuesday, but my professor's son got sick, so she had to cancel class. Then I had to wait through warm ups, and her giving everyone else feed back before I finally got up to perform. I forgot some of the feedback she had given me when I performed it before, but for the most part I got told that it sounded really sincere (I was confessing my love to someone) that and I should try and move my arms around more and not be so stiff. We did another activity after that where you can make any kind of scene you want out of a set of dialogue.
After that it was lunch, and when I went into the dining hall, I contracted the most massive headache I've had in a while. Usually I don't really get bad headaches and migraines (knock on wood) but this would just not leave me alone. It started getting so bad that I had to ask my friends if they had painkillers (one of them did, praise Jesus), but then after lunch I had to go to work. I do a lot of data entry at my on campus job, and when I sat down at the computer and tried to focus, it just made my headache worse. So I went in to my boss and told her that my head was killing me and I needed to leave and go lay down. She agreed with me and I told her I would make up my hours tommorrow and next week.
Then I get to my room, and set an alarm for an hour and a half so I can get up for class, and it's boiling in the room, so I strip down and open the window (okay, I was wearing a t-shirt and underwear just in case my roommate came back, which, she does), but I had to close the window after a little while, and the shades, because I think I really had a migraine, because it was affected by light and sound. Then my roommate gets back, and she really was as quiet as she could be, so I guess I felt her pain of when I get in late at night.
My alarm went off after a while, and I had to get up, but I couldn't really find the clothes I had been dressed in at first, so I grabbed a pair of kapris I had lying around, and a pink shirt that planned parenthood was giving out in the dining hall. Oh, and I still had the mirgraine, and I still had to go to class. So, since it had been about two hours since I had the advil my friend gave me, and I wasn't feeling any better, I decided to take some tylenol on top of that. Then I walked off to class, still greatly affected by the bright light of post midday and the sounds and the temperature.
It was not until about twenty minutes into creative writing that I began to feel relief, and over a five minute period, my mirgraine slowly trailed off into nothing. We were doing an excercise outside when this happened, and when we went back to the room to do workshops I was kind of...loopy, shall we say? I was speaking really slowly and things were going right over my head, so eventually I just stopped talking and waited for class to be over.
Once it was, I followed Charlotte back up to her office to get my revision of my second draft, so I could fix that and then send it off across the interwebs to be submitted. I went to the library and wrote a book review first, but then I did that and then I went to dinner. Hung out with friend A for a while, then with the Potters, two of whom are in my creative writing class, and noted just how loopy I was.
Then I went back to my room for a bit, got nothing done, and then I went to orchestra, came back and tried to write something which I'm just finishing now. Here's a story:
She sat across from Julian their bodies almost touching, knee to knee, breath to breath as they knelt in the grass their hands resting on their thighs. He wore a pair of jeans, but his shirt had been lost to the warm summer air, and she was covered in a soft, muslin dress, the skirt pulled tightly over her bent knees. It was rare they received moments like these, and those who would deign to take them apart. They had arrived to the spot early to say their special goodbyes, ones not meant for speaking. The air was calm, though she could feel her heart racing all around them.
An unnatural light shone across her eyes, and she opened them to stars covering her vision. She swatted at him, apparently too fast for her cousin to maintain his grip on the flash light.
“What did you do that for?” he asked, picking it up in two parts. She could barely make his scowl out against the color spots flooding her eyes.
“It hurt,” she said simply, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s time for school. Mom wants you to get ready and come downstairs.” He was still scowling at the broken flash light as he left the room.
She rubbed at her sore eyes as they adjusted to the dim light of morning around them. She pushed off of the frame of the bed with her hands, landing flatly on her feet. She wandered toward the door, closing it, before she stripped off her clothes on the way to her small closet. She pulled on a pair of clean underpants up her legs and around her hips, before she examined her choices of clothing. Much of her clothing had yet to arrive, but clean and hanging in the closet was a blouse covered with streaks of greens, yellows and red, with large butterflies on top of them. It had a lacy back, so it was not very appropriate for school, but…
She ran her fingers over the smooth fabric of the blouse, and thought of Julian, who had given it to her. Of that last night she had had with him, before fear had sent her away.
“Gwendolen,” her aunt said entering the room. Gwendolen turned to face the older woman, who was brightly flushed, and wondered why her aunt was more ashamed of her body than she was. “Oh, I’m sorry; I’ll remember to knock next time. But breakfast is on the table, you might want to get a move on, if you want some.” The truth was, she had not been hungry since she had to leave Julian and the others. Now she mostly felt snapped in half. But she could not tell her aunt that.
“All right, thank you Aunt May,” she said. The older woman scurried out of the room, and Gwendolen turned back to the closet, running her fingers over the blouse one more time. She pulled a clean chemise free from a hanger, and pulled it over her head, before she added the butterfly blouse and pulled an oyster colored, ankle length skirt up over her hips. A pair of stockings slid onto her feet, right before a pair of boots. She pinned up the top portion of her hair, letting the rest flow free, before she grabbed a thin, grey cotton jacket to cover up her back should her aunt or someone objected to how much skin she showed.
Gwendolen trotted through her aunt and uncle’s hall until she came to the kitchen, where the breakfast nook was set with four bowls. The last was left unoccupied for her.
“I hope you intend to wear that jacket, young lady,” her uncle said as she sat down at the table. “We don’t want you starting out your first day giving the wrong impression.” She nodded around a mouth full of oatmeal.
“If you don’t want her to give the wrong impression, you should make her take off that dumb necklace she’s always wearing,” her cousin remarked.
“Zackery, we’ve been over this,” his mother reminded him. “You aren’t allowed to call your cousin stupid.”
“I wasn’t, it’s just she always wears it,” Zackery retorted. “And I mean, look at it.” It was a pewter tree set into an opal, and Gwendolen rarely, if ever took it off. She let her dark hair fall over her breast so it was less visible. “God, I hope no one guesses that we are related.” Secretly, in her heart of hearts, Gwendolen hoped that too, because even though they had the same dark hair and turquoise eyes, they did have different last names. So maybe no one would guess that she was cousins with someone as rude as Zackery.
“That’s enough I think, and the bus will be here soon,” Aunt May said, standing to go back to the kitchen counter, to lift two brown paper bags into the air. “Here are your lunches and your bags are by the door.” Zackery jumped up and took his as quickly as he could, launching towards the door, before Uncle Howard could remind him to clear his bowl. Gwendolen rinsed and deposited her bowl in the sink, before she accepted the brown bag from Aunt May. With her jacket over her arm, she picked up her bag and walked out the open front door. Aunt May had followed her there, and called out, “Have a good day sweet heart!” Gwendolen turned back and waved, before she ran to catch up with Zackery.