speaking of “soul mates”

Upon closer inspection, I’ve come to discover that I’m not the only one like me that I know. Actually, there’s at least a couple of you “faces” out there… This quote appeared in my inbox (hooray for deliciously epic timing on the part of toinspire.com)

from one of us to another…

” For such will be our ruin if you, in the immensity of your public abstractions, forget the private figure, or if we in the intensity of our private emotions forget the public world. Both houses will be ruined, the public and the private, the material and the spiritual, for they are inseperably connected.” – Virginia Wolfe

much love and luck to you friends.
yours.Rachel

Tbell

Alex Begle is my hero because she goes with me to Taco Bell at the drop of a hat.

Today was one of those days where dinner was diet pepsi, and once again I am reminded how much the sick freak within me loves the days I don’t have time to breathe. But after an ordeal and a half with study abroad (some days I wonder why nothing in this world runs with anything that even remotely resembles efficiency or effectiveness…) I was ready to eat real food in preparation for the long night ahead of me. one IM and 2 phone calls later, I found Alex, NOT SAVING AFRICA (surprising I know…hehe) but chilling.

How bout chilling with some Taco Bell and your future wife? (all of these white rose ceremonies inspired us 🙂 )

And we were off. Spending time we didn’t have, driving too fast, blaring one of my fabulous mixes (favorites maybe?), bitching, gossiping, and giggling hysterically. Through the drive through (Can I help you? – SNORT – Shut up! And you just snorted! No, I’m sorry not you…), and on to an oscar-worthy performance of two delinquent almost-not-teenagers high as kites with the munchies. We may be the two wackiest and most animated people in the world. even stone sober. Needless to say, some high quality quotage came out of that…

“Obviously I’m not at Chapel…tonight I traded Jesus for grade D beef…mmmmm…”

“It’s sort of awkward because it’s not like I can just be having a conversation with her and say ‘I feel that we have a deep and spiritual affinity for one and other’…”

Me: “I mean really…why the fuck would my passport be under the refrigerator?” Alex: “Maybe because your soul is hungry for travel?”

yours.Rachel

weapons of choice.

I was getting so into this!

The idea of posting my thoughts is really lovely; sorting them into nice little text boxes complete with archiving and a search feature is a wonderfully comforting idea. Unfortunately, as usual, all of my pottery barn-esque storage containers are overflowing with too much stuff – thoughts, dreams, questions, worries, super-cute but unnecessary clothing…

Lately I’ve been wondering a lot of things; why I made choices I did, what they mean about where I am now, and when the hell I’m going to find something that makes me really passionate again. Sometimes I wonder why my stomach sinks through 3 floors when I hear certain things, or why it flutters at other things, or why all of the big dreams I keep chasing keep slipping through my fingers.

Or if I will ever find someone who is older than me. Not just in years – that’s easy. Someone who will grow me up. I think I’d like to be grown up, and I think that me and this place have done about all we can do on our own. It’s up to love (one day) and London now, I think. or maybe, as crying like a baby over the movie “The Family Stone” might indicate, what I need is someone to un-grow me up. that could be ok too.

Finally, another thought keeps floating through my head; chance rendezvous and carefully coordinated meeting lead me to laugh a little at men/boys and me (woman/girl). How interesting it is that ones intellectual and spiritual self can be a seemingly invaluable commodity as long as they are accompanied by ones ass. Whether that ass is guaranteed or simply looms over a flirtatious exchange of words, that possibility of ass is enough to keep the carousel of conversation running smoothly. However, when that possibility is gone, the invaluable value of the self seems to be immediately devalued.

This leads me to observe in myself and others another tick. yet another disguise. I ran into a ghost the other day, and, vulnerable and exposed, I fell back onto my safety net. When did flirtation become my self-defense weapon of choice?

But enough musings. At this moment I am in love with my life. Not because of school or meetings or papers. not even because of London (not in this moment at least). but because I adore my baby Caroline in Kappa Delta. She’s sweet and genuine, clever and funny, and all around beautiful. And I love my fabulous KD family. And I can say with reasonable certainty that they love be too, even though I am absolutely ridiculous. That’s the best kind of love in this world, and the ONLY kind for me.

Back to men and women, here’s a quote…interesting. I’m not sure if I believe it, but I might.

“Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” – Oscar Wilde

thoughts?

yours.Rachel

Who just saw some titties?

Raise your hand if you just saw some titties! Alright now everybody calm the fuck down!

hehe. intensity should always be bookended by titties and good movies (Garden State, friends). Speaking of good movies, Sunday night I fell in love with a fabulous movie. Ladies, if you haven’t seen “The Holiday” you need to. Throw out expectations of an oscar award winner, and accept a fair degree of cheesy romance movie-ness, but if you can do that you’ll adore it. Kate Winslet is wonderful as always, and even Cameron Diaz (whose acting skills I usually find questionable) does a great job throwing hysterical fits and getting stuck in a spiral of overthinking. As for the men…mmmm Jude Law looks good ladies. And even Jack Black, while no sex god, is sweet and endearing. There’s something quite lovely about a romantic hero being the man who makes a goof-ball out of himself while singing movie soundtracks in the video store.

Anyway, grab a your favorite ladies and some chinese carry-out; paint your nails and enjoy.

“She needs to give her vagina a vacation.” – Keshia Williams, brilliant intellectual and love doctor

yours.Rachel

Who are you?

I am a deck of cards. Every hand I play is composed entirely of cards in my deck, but I rarely play all of my cards at once. The stakes are high, but will you call the bet?

I am guarded and shy. I’m scared if I let anyone in too far I’ll scare them away or I’ll get hurt, or worse, I’ll hurt them. That scares me more than anything.

I am tired of people resenting me for not being perfect. I’m obsessive, emotional, and self-conscious. When I was in first grade, I would run into my dad’s room and cry every night before bed because I was terrified I would do something wrong in the lunch line. Trust me when I tell you I’ve got that taken care of all by myself; I don’t need your help on that one.

I am also tired of people resenting me because they want to believe I’m perfect. you all really need to pow-wow with the people from the last statement and see how wrong you really are.
I am intense. I wave my hands when I talk, and I yell when I get excited, and I hop up and down when I get angry, and I skip when I get sublimely happy. I brush my teeth like it’s a race, and I stand up when I speak, and when I’m proud or excited I throw my arms back behind me at my sides and look like a crazy person. It’s absolutely insane but absolutely me. take me or leave me.

I am an activist. I don’t like to sit back and wait for my life to unfold in front of me; I want to to grab it, run with it, love it, kiss it, fight for it, cry for it, be broken by it, look it in the eye smiling. rinse and repeat.

I am probably not like anyone you’ve ever met. I’m pretty much crazy, and that’s really all that matters.
I am fine. I’m always fine. I’ve been this intense for 19 years and I’m quite used to it. Get out if you want, or stay if you don’t want out, but don’t worry. please?

I am not super-girl. I withdraw from classes because I am failing them, and I hate how I look in these jeans, and I don’t always feel God in my life, and I wonder why I can’t just figure myself and my life out. I cry and I sophomore-slump like everyone else, but I don’t wear it on my sleeve. There’s enough distress in this world, and I feel selfish adding mine to anyone elses.

apparently, there was some confusion here. Just figured I’d clarify.

All of that said, some of you still manage to live with me, laugh with me, cry with me, and love me. And I love you back more that I even know how to say to you. I keep meaning to right you all brilliant and beautifully crafted letters reminding you of this, but then I keep remembering that I’m not brilliant enough to make them say what I want them to say. So I’ll just say thanks. and will you take a rain check for some brownies?

This quote’s a good one…a little something I’m planning to work on… “Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do, you apologize for the truth.” – Benjamin Disraeli

yours.Rachel

it’s official.

my own set of luggage – check.

“B” converters – check.

rain coat and quality umbrella – check.

suit/marginally stuffy professional clothing + new stillettos to counteract stuffy-ness – check.

lovley new skirts, tops, and ballet flats – check.

hair appointment booked for 3 days before I leave – check.

passport – check.

1 round trip ticket detroit to newark to london to newark to detroit. May 21, August 10 –

– gulp –
…check.

I couldn’t be more excited or more terrified…

yours.Rachel

Dreaming

In the last week and a half, I feel like I’ve been living in dreams. I dream vividly every night and recall the kind of minute details which my high school psychology teacher once called “extremley obsessive.” Wow, that comes as a surprise – not.

My favorite strange dream as of late is one I woke up from a few nights ago. It was one of those dreams you wake from and feel like it means the world – like you know everything. (I’ll spare you the “extremley obsessive” details) In my dream I stood in the center of a market and courtyard in Istanbul. Not that I’ve ever been to, or even really seen, Istanbul. But boy, I knew I was in Istanbul. I stood with a few women, friends I think, and a man whose face I could not see. They were dressed in white linen with intricate detailing, and I stood wraped only in a red blanket. And I was getting married to to man whose face I could not see.

apparently, that’s the answer to all my questions in life. I should just wrap myself in a blanket and get married in Istanbul. Excellent plan – I’ll work on that.

Even in waking the dreamstate continues; minutes seem to pass like molasses, while the days seem to change more quickly than the seasons. And never mind how the semesters seem to be flying… (as long as they aren’t counted by minutes)

Speaking of seasons, it snowed today. It was 65 degrees yesterday, and I wore sandals. This morning I drove my sister to school through a postcard from Vermont; pure white flakes formed a blanket that covered every single branch that arched over us – I could feel “Wish you were here” being printed in red glossy script over my head. I’m not quite sure who my life if being mailed to… maybe the faceless man in Istanbul?

Even though my nose and toes and fingers are cold as ice, I can’t shake the thought that it’s beautiful out; it’s amazing how much more bearable the cold is when you know 65 degrees and sandals could be just a day away…

craving some more of someone elses words? try these on for size…

“A brief candle; both ends burning. An endless mile; a bus wheel turning. A friend to share the lonesome times. A handshake and a sip of wine. So say it loud and let it ring. We are all a part of everything. the future, the present, and the past.

Fly on proud bird, You’re free at last.”

-Charlie Daniels
yours.Rachel

here we go…

Oh friends, it’s happened. I have a blog.

Not an emo blog. not a detailed account of my daily drama. not an overly dramatic plea for you to listen to me. If I ever get like that please bitch-slap me. Or steal my trunk of shoes and hold them hostage. Actually, that’s probably a more effective, so go with that.

Instead, I want this to be a place where I catch up with my loves and share the profoundly insightful or delightfully worthless musings I have over tea or lattes or wine or champagne. With my acceptance to study in London this summer, I’m anticipating the year post-sophomore-slump to be filled with a million and two travels and tales. I plan for this blog to be the public journal of my adventures while chasing the dream of the woman I want to be.

Maybe I’m channeling Carrie Bradshaw in an attempt to get myself a fabulous shoe closet and a life in New York. (But I won’t write sex columns; I like to keep the business of my vagina off the internet .) And maybe this new plan of blogging will be like my other plans to journal, which are like my plans to loose 10 lbs or swear off love – spectacular in theory but continually thwarted. But just like I continually attempt to give up feelings and dessert, I will continue my attempts to sketch the thoughts in my mind.

In the mean time, I’ll steal the profound thoughts of others and claim them for my own life … enjoy.

“If you stand right fronting and face to face with a fact, you will see the sun glimmer on both its surfaces, as if it were a cimiter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and you will happily conclude your mortal career. Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in our extremities;if we are alive let us go about our business.” – Henry David Thoreau

yours.Rachel