Books Read
1. Reamde, Neal Stephenson 7/10
2. 11/22/63, Stephen King 9/10
3. Starseed, Spider and Jeanne Robinson 9/10
4. Food Rules, Michael Pollan 6/10
5. The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins 10/10
6. Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins 8/10
7. Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins 9/10
8. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley 6/10
9. V is for Vengeance, Sue Grafton 4/10
10. Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris 7/10
11. Red Mist, Patricia Cornwell 6/10
12. The Secret Lives of Princesses, Philippe Lechermeier & Rébecca Dautremer 9/10
13. The Three Incestuous Sisters, Audrey Niffenegger 7/10
14. Living Dead in Dallas, Charlaine Harris 8/10
15. Club Dead, Charlaine Harris 7/10
16. Dead to the World, Charlaine Harris 6/10
17. Dead as a Doornail, Charlaine Harris 8/10
18. Making Friends in School: Promoting Peer Relationships in Early Childhood, Patricia G. Ramsey 7/10
19. Persuasion, Jane Austen 7/10
20. Definitely Dead, Charlaine Harris 8/10
21. What I Loved, Siri Hustvedt 10/10
22. From the Teeth of Angels, Jonathan Carroll 8/10
23. All Together Dead, Charlaine Harris 7/10
24. From Dead to Worse, Charlaine Harris 8/10
25. Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, Thomas De Quincey 7/10
26. Dead and Gone, Charlaine Harris 5/10
27. Dead in the Family, Charlaine Harris 7/10
28. Dead Reckoning, Charlaine Harris 8/10
29. Zero Sight, B. Justin Shier 6/10
30. Zero Sum, B. Justin Shier 7/10
31. The Witness, Nora Roberts 6/10
32. Heart-Shaped Box, Joe Hill 7/10

Movies Watched
1. Some Like It Hot 8/10
2. Shame 10/10
3. An Education 8/10
4. My Dinner with André 8/10
5. Midnight in Paris 4/10
6. 50/50 6/10
7. Chronicle 8/10
8. Julie and Julia 8/10
9. Diabolique 9/10
10. The Hunger Games 9/10
11. Captain America: The First Avenger 6/10
12. The Avengers 10/10
13. Brazil (U) 3/10
14. Suburban Girl 4/10
15. The Nanny Diaries 5/10
16. Reality Bites 8/10
17. Citizen Kane (U) 6/10
18. Dark Shadows 5/10
19. Raiders of the Lost Ark 6/10

As slipjig and I are moving to New Hampshire shortly, this leaves our housemate wired_lizard in need of a replacement for us. The apartment's in Watertown, gorgeous, well-apportioned and well-located right on the bus line; if possible, she'd like someone who is geeky or at least geek-friendly. Rent is $910 a month, which includes gas, electricity and Internet. If you're looking for a place or know someone who is, you can find the whole write-up (along with more details, photos and contact information) over here at her website. Thanks much.

Let's see, where were we?

I graduated this past weekend. Mount Holyoke certainly knows how to make a Grand Event out of it. There were four days of festivities, each progressively more powerful and hilarious and nostalgic and fun.

Thursday, we started off with a ceremony given by the Alumnae Association. It was hosted by our grandmother class, the class of 1962. For a bunch of 70+ year old women, they looked amazing; I hope I am that active and healthy when I hit 70. They welcomed us to the alumnae, and gave us silk scarves in our class color. They all stood up in a line in the front of the auditorium, these women who had done just we did fifty years before us, and we proceeded by them. I walked up to one woman, and she wrapped a blue scarf around my neck, then a purple one (I got two, because I'm in the class of 2012 and I'm a non-traditional student, so we get our own "class" of Frances Perkins scholars also). "Welcome, dear," she said, and I struggled not to cry and choked out a thank you.

That night was the Final Lecture, in which five folks chosen by the students give a sort of joke lecture and some life advice. In this case, it was three professors, a coach, and the oldest member of the campus police, Kevin the "Party Cop." They were all hilarious and interesting, and I finally learned why they have hearts on the street signs in Worcester! They're there to honor Esther Howland, an MHC alum who made the first American Valentine's Day card, and had a plant in Worcester.

Friday we did the long, long commencement rehearsal, and there was a lunch for the Frances Perkins scholars. That night slipjig and I - okay, mostly me - had our own room party and drank many 7&7s. This led to us drunk-dialing my mom and talking to her for an hour and a half, and going to Denny's at midnight for awesome drunken pancakes.

Up early and only slightly hung over for the Laurel Parade, which was probably the highest point of the weekend for me. Everyone wears white to honor the suffragettes, and we line up and carry a laurel chain across campus to MHC founder Mary Lyon's grave. I got there when they said to get there, which I learned several times over the weekend was a giant error, as that basically led to standing around for an hour waiting for everyone else to meander in. But eventually everyone showed up and we got the laurel chain arranged and we were off. It was just nice to be moving at first, but then we rounded the first corner, and the bag pipes and drums were playing and I found myself standing a little straighter, the way you do when bag pipes and drums are playing. The alumnae who had led the parade broke off to stand and wait for us as they hit the green. As we passed the band, they fell in behind us, and we kept going until we walked into the GIANT crowd of all the alumnae, who were applauding and cheering us.

It was so overwhelming, I completely can't do it justice. Here were hundreds of women, all with their own stories and struggles, who were united by this place, this special, amazing, transformative place, and they were standing up and cheering for us, for this accomplishment, giving us this moment. In that moment it feels like the music is playing for you and all the people know every sacrifice you made and every hour of sleep lost and every time you pushed yourself to work just a little bit harder, and they are cheering for you personally overcoming all those obstacles to stand there in the sun and smile back at their joy. We kept going until we were all gathered around the grave, and then we sang a song from a textile strike in 1912, "Bread and Roses."

After we reigned in all the tears, we dispersed and I shamefully skipped the Alumnae Association meeting in favor of getting a fucking drink of water and changing out of my lovely but not super comfortable white dress. Then there was a picnic, and the psychology department event. By this time Chaos had shown up, so we took him to his motel and hung out for a bit before dinner. After dinner, my BFF Cat arrived and she and slipjig and I went to the baccalaureate.

OMG, the weeping. One of my classmates made a speech that was so hilarious, with many, many references to all the MHC traditions. She talked about Obama and how he was elected when they first started at Mount Holyoke, and how hope and change were in the air then. She talked about meeting an alum on the streets of Harvard Square, and how former MHC students are everywhere across the world, changing the world. She started crying toward the end, and so did we, and when she swallowed and said, "You, all of you, you are the change I believe in," everyone lost it altogether.

My advisor was the next to speak, and she talked about how blown away she had always been by how much we immediately embraced this place, how loyal to it we were, and how much we loved it. She talked about the fear we were all feeling, the fear that MHC is a special place, and nowhere we go after will be like it. She said that's true, nothing is like it. Leaving it behind is really leaving it behind. So what do you do then? Her answer was to talk about memory (and several things she said felt a bit inspired by my thesis, which was unspeakably cool), and how we are able to hold on to the past, and bring it back to us when we need it. She gave us Oreos, and told us to eat them there in that room, and be in that moment, feel all the feelings that were going through us. And then, down the line, if we needed Mount Holyoke, we could eat a cookie, and it would come back to us.

Sunday morning was the actual commencement ceremony, which wasn't quite as transcendent as some of the previous moments, but, surprisingly, it didn't feel anticlimactic either. It felt like a conclusion, and a transition, just as it should. It also felt hot as fuck, but that was to be expected with 85 degree weather and Robes of Black Heat Death. Neil deGrasse Tyson was one of the honorary doctorates, and his speech was probably my favorite, mainly because he entreated us to help him fight the stupid, which is a cause I rather support. Bernard LaFayette, Jr. was the other highlight. He was a civil rights activist on the front lines in the 60s, and spoke like the reverend freedom fighter he was.

The actual commencement speaker, Azar Nafisi, was rather more unfortunate. She rambled on and on, saying very little, and while there were a couple of good points, she kinda lost me with her "Here's to stupidity!" opener. "Without it, what would we have to do?" she said. And, y'know, I can think of a few things. Mostly it was long and boring and vaguely problematic, though she saved it at the end by calling LaFayette back up to sing with us. We sang the Freedom Riders' song about getting ready in Jackson, because the buses were coming, and being allowed to be slightly part of that history was pretty amazing.

Then I walked across the stage and got my diploma and my hug from the president, clapped for all 577 of the other graduates (okay, probably about 570 of them, I didn't clap while I was walking back to my seat), and thankfully disrobed and rehydrated shortly thereafter.

It was amazing, a beautiful ending to my time at Mount Holyoke. It felt like it did all that time justice, which is quite a feat, because it was hands-down the best time of my life so far. I am so thankful I was allowed to be there. I will love that place forever.

(There are a bajillion photos if we're friends on Facebook.)

When I was a teenager, my parents got divorced. My mom was completely wrecked by it, furious and hurt. It took her years to get over. I would call her, dutifully in those years, that was before we learned how to really love each other. She would say, "Oh, you're calling because you're bored? What, Dad wasn't home?" and I would sigh and say something sarcastic, and any feeling I had toward wanting to call her would be shot dead instantly.

A few days ago, I made some coffee and I missed my father desperately. I wanted to make him a cup of coffee too, and sit and talk like we used to, but I couldn't. I was sad. So I called my mom. After a few minutes, I mentioned this, and she said, "Oh, you're calling because you miss Dad?" I sighed internally and prepared myself for the onslaught of how I never call because I love her and start writing the defense in my head of how she is the only person I can call when I miss him, because she remembers him, and she's not devastated like my stepmom is right now so I don't have to worry about hurting her, and she will always be there for me and I know it, I trust her with my grief, and that all means I love her.

I sigh externally and say, "Yeah."

"That's okay," she said. "You can always call me when you miss Dad. That's okay." And it was, I could hear it in her voice. She understood, and it was okay.

I keep being amazed at how much a woman can change and grow in life. My choices and my life are hard for her to understand. She doesn't get poly, she wishes I would've done things in the right order, she thinks so many of the things I do are weird. She used to chide me about them and tell me I was doing it wrong. But somewhere in the last ten years or so, she decided to love me instead. She decided that knowing me was more important than holding on to the image of the daughter she wanted.

So she fought to respect me, to understand me, and to accept what she couldn't understand. She did what I needed, even when it wasn't what she needed. And, most astoundingly of all, given who she used to be, she became a woman who understood that when I call her because I miss Dad, it means I love her best.

Her brains and courage manifest very differently from mine. She cares about different things. But I know where I got who I am. I got them from the woman who has broken every bone in her body and keeps getting back up to walk again. I got them from the woman who reached outside every mental construct she had to learn to love her very different daughter, because that's what her daughter needed more than anything else on earth. I got them from the person who is still teaching me what personal evolution is.

Happy Mother's Day to the bravest, strongest, most awesome woman I know. I love you, Mommy.

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

-- "Love After Love," Derek Walcott

Hi.

I haven't written in a long time. Partially, that's because I don't know how to answer the question that I feel like this empty text box asks me every time I open it.

"How are you?" it says.

I don't know.

I'm happy? I've been married one month and it has been wonderful. Loving my slipjig is wonderful. Calling him my husband is exciting, and feels like a secret lie, like I'm pretending to a still far-off future, and at the same time it feels unremarkable, like of course it's true. My thesis is in revision and very soon I will graduate, with some kind of honors - maybe even the whole summa enchilada. I got into a masters program in marriage and family therapy and I'll be doing actual for reals therapy in less than a year. My relationships are pretty healthy and happy, and I'm excited about the upcoming summer, that will hopefully include lots of laying by the pool with my gorgeous girlfriend belgatherial. So I'm happy?

I'm grieving? I miss my daddy every single day, sometimes quietly, sometimes for one exquisitely stinging moment, sometimes fondly and with joy. Every now and then it sneaks up and decks me. I saw a box of toothpicks at 7-11 that were the kind he liked, and I stole them and went and sat in the car and sobbed for an hour. Sometimes I feel lost and despondent, and I wander around, up and down the campus, without knowing where I'm going, but being very definitely directed. My body feels like it has a homing beacon, and I'm gravitating around, looking for... him? Nurturing? A friend? My friendlessness on campus has never felt more acute than when I need a hug so badly that I just sort of roam endlessly hoping to find one. So I'm grieving?

I'm scared? Graduation, even at my advanced age, means life changes are a-comin', and I am not quite sure I can handle any more life changes without my head exploding.

I'm defeated? I didn't get into any PhD programs, or get any job offers. I'm scared to death that this lowly MFT degree will be the pinnacle of my academic achievement, which, well. Was not the plan.

I'm confident? I've had setbacks before, and I know I'm too good to settle. I will try again. And again, if I have to. Someday there will be a Doctor before my name. I know this, under the fear. And under the confidence, I'm afraid.

I'm exhausted? Burned out? Mentally spent? Physically in pain and desperately in need of gentle healing and rest? Yes. All of those.

I'm excited? Soon undergrad will be behind me, we'll move out of our roommate's house, and married grad student life will begin. We will cook and paint and my husband will make music and I will make someone's broken life a little bit closer to fixed.

I don't know.

I'm here. Hi.

I'm copying what he said, 'cause I am lazy and we're in a hurry, but I will add that there will be more updating and pictures and stuff when we get back.

slipjig and I got married! Friday night! (Or rather, very early Saturday morning!) It was amazing! And no, I can't talk about it right now because we're leaving for Bar Harbor, Maine for our honeymoon! Wheeee!

Since we're going to be very deliberately off the grid—we're not even taking our computers with us—we'll be missing any e-mails or other online announcements until we return on Thursday. If there's an emergency, we'll be checking voice mail once a day, so reach us by phone if it's absolutely necessary. (If lives aren't at stake, do not consider it absolutely necessary.)

We love you! Be well!

Originally posted by belgatherial at Submissions are open.

It seems appropriate that this post was my last one before I byed out of LJ Idol, doesn't it? It wasn't a total mistake, I just realized yesterday that, even though I knew what I wanted to write for the prompt, the thought of sitting down and writing it was really stressing me out. My stress is so bad right now that anything that can go probably should, and that was one of the few things that wouldn't utterly destroy my life to let go of. So I let the deadline quietly pass.

It makes me kind of sad. But I think it was right.

In brighter news, slipjig and I decided to remove another stressor by quasi-eloping. We're going to get married at home in a couple of weeks, with just a couple of close friends present, and then we're taking the refund from the Big Wedding we were planning and going on a honeymoon to Maine during my Spring Break. I plan to take no work and stay off the internet and just rest and read and... well, you know. Married stuff.

To do this, though, I have to work my ass off between now and then. And so I go. Hope y'all are doing well.

This is a time of mourning. Or I think it's supposed to be.

It's been 8 weeks since my father died. I took a memorial road trip, and I believe that, in a bit of irony, that this healed me just enough to keep going, and that may prove to be the fatal blow to who I used to be. I may actually not survive these next few months intact. That's okay, intact is overrated. Staying who I was has never been one of my top priorities. But I can't lie, this is pretty damn hard, even for me. Any remaining sadness has to be back-burnered, I have no time to feel it.

Here's how it is.

I have 300 pages of reading to do for next week. No problem, that's not so much. A little more challenging when it's academic reading, but still. I've had bigger workloads. I sit down with the book at 2:00 P.M. I turn to page 23.

"Children typically develop emotionally in overlapping phases..."

Yeah that's so true, I wonder why we are so bent on categorizing everything so disparately. Crap, I forgot to send out the email inviting the new participants to my thesis.

I open my laptop, open Mail. I suppress the hope that my inbox will say, "Congratulations! You have been accepted to any PhD program whatsoever!" Instead I have three useless emails about upcoming speaking engagements I have no time to attend. Delete, delete. Oh god, what if I really don't get in anywhere? I'm not, am I? What the hell now? Masters programs? Work experience? Can I really live with doing all of this work only to get a job making less than I did before I started this crazy journey? No. Grad schools it is. Which ones, though? Will slipjig still marry me if I have to go far away? Will we survive the distance?

I open my browser to look up masters programs in New England. I start skimming the description for one in New Hampshire. What about the wedding, anyway? If we're not doing the big thing, and god knows there won't be enough money now, then what instead? When should we do it? Should I change my last name? What if we get married before I graduate, which name should go on my diploma? If we elope, will it still feel real? God I need a vacation.

I google honeymooon packages in Maine. Shit, I have to send that email! I open Mail again. There's a link from one of my professors to updated guidelines for the observations we're doing next week. When am I going to fit that in? I should make sure I go to the gym. My stress level is in the red, this is no time to ignore my caretaking. I need to pack those sweatpants to take back to school with me. I should drink more water.

I get up and go in the kitchen to get a drink. I remember that I'm supposed to be baking a snack to bring to one of my classes this week. The kitchen is so wrecked that I can't find a single clean spot of counter space or any utensils or bowls. I start clearing dishes. slipjig walks in. I erupt and yell at him about why there is NEVER ANY ORANGE JUICE LEFT FOR THE WEEKEND GOD WHY CAN'T ANYTHING GO RIGHT? He is, rightly, a bit startled.

It is 5:00 P.M. I have to get this reading done. I sit back down.

"Children typically develop emotionally in overlapping phases..."

Damn it, I still haven't sent that email. I open the laptop. I send the email. My GChat pings.

It is 8:00 P.M. I'm exhausted. I haven't read anything. I feel dizzy and nauseated, something that is becoming increasingly common with every maximally stressed out day that passes. Something hurts. I get a glass of wine and read something trashy that asks nothing of me. I lie down, and promise myself to do better tomorrow. I'm about to drift off to sleep.

Crap. I still have to write my Idol post.

...

You know, that wasn't even all of it. There are so many more things changing, so much that is in flux, that I can't find a constant point. Maybe that's why I feel dizzy. I can't pick a spot.

I want to mourn him better. I want to write better. I want to focus on my upcoming marriage and my other relationships and my sexual identity and grad school and my thesis and who the fuck I want to come out of this being. But I guess all that is just going to have to wait.

I have class in twenty minutes.