i like this.

thanks, ro.

[and she was also wearing capris]

while sitting in JFK international i was thinking about how new york is like the hub of the world, and henceforth JFK is like the hub of the hub. i was in a sea of people, thinking about how they were from all over the world, just temporarily paused in between one place and another. a girl walked by in a gap sweatshirt. she looked like every-girl-USA. but who was she? where was she from? where was she going? what's her story?

this same girl ended up sitting next to me on the plane. i didn't tell her that she had been randomly singled out in one of my previous thought patterns, nor did i ask her anything about herself. she watched TV all night and had clean finger nails and seemed simple. i didn't want to share this strange coincidence with her.

so i'm sharing it with you instead.

it's good to be home.

getting up early and liking it.

my body has been waking me up between six and seven every morning. there's no point in fighting it unless i get off on being defeated. it was frustrating for a while, but i'm learning to accept it.

this is what i saw this morning. a rainbow. i got excited like a child.

i'm going to make a great old lady. waking up early. making tea. reading on the front porch. going for a walk. i'm already there. it's not really about growing up, just growing into yourself. nothing's ever really changed; i'm just more comfortable now.

an ode to my old bike

today i sold the first bike i have ever owned in my adult life. it was a blue schwinn traveler that i bought off craigslist back in 2007. i paid way too much for it ($120) but i was so excited to have a bike that i didn't care. the people who sold it to me had toddlers and a garage full of bikes. the woman didn't even know which one i was coming to see.

one time brody and i were sitting on the east bank docks eating pita chips and talking and making out. when i walked back to my blue schwinn, someone had slashed the tires. it was one in the morning. brody walked me all the way home.

the nice guy at seven corner's cycles always fixed my flats. one time we talked about laughing cow cheese wedges. he was confusing them with babybel cheese balls. i had to tell him he was wrong. i kinda hate doing that. but i have to, if i know i'm right.

on a really, really hot day, bobbie sue, rikki and i rode up to the bluffs to have a picnic with food we bought from trader joe's. there was provolone cheese and bread and ritter sport. and some sort of flavorful condiment. we talked about boys and sat in the dirt. on the way home, we rode by the godfather van and took pictures.

i eventually wanted a new bike. the blue schwinn was too short. and heavy. and rickety. when liz and eric were in town i found another schwinn on craigslist. we walked in the chilly december air to some girl's apartment building near my neighborhood. she was selling her bike because she was moving to new york. i wanted to tell her it was probably a dumb idea, but had she changed her mind, i probably would not have gotten my new bike.

i tried to give gwen the schwinn, but she doesn't like riding bikes. yet. so it sat locked up on our porch all winter. i also tried to sell it to colleen, but she was comfortable with her cruiser. i finally put it up on craigslist yesterday and got way too many responses. the first person who called was ashley, who couldn't come see it until today at four. i wanted to have allegiance to her because she called first, but a bunch of people called this morning, offering to come at any time. i ended up selling it for $50 to erin from colorado who moved here to student teach. in her email she said, "it's meant to be!" i liked that. though when ashley called back, i felt bad. i felt like i was letting her down. i'm bad at craigslist.

sorry ashley. i'm sending positive vibes out to you on your bike search.

erin asked if i had any last words for my old bike. i just said "bye." i mean, is there really anything else to say?

i used to know someone who was notorious for referring to himself in the third person. perhaps you know him, or someone like him. anytime he did it, it drove me to anger. i perceived it as fairly egotistical and somewhat sad, actually. as if by doing so, he only understood himself as viewed through everyone else's eyes.

on the way to the mailbox this morning i heard a man refer to himself in the third person as "papa" three times in the company of his son. i guess this is normal with children, but it made me think of my old friend, and hence the above thoughts. but then i felt bad. because, really, don't we all just understand ourselves in terms of the confluence between the self and everything/everyone with which we interact? the idea of "candace" is most certainly a construct of everything i've ever seen and done. and a good amount of that is interactions with other people, who then both have an understanding of "candace" as well as an impact on said "candace." the use of the third person to refer to one's self in speech or writing can thereby be looked at as a sort of commentary on the lack of command one has in how the self is constructed, represented or received.

i still cannot condone my friend's usage of this method, though. only because i know he used it purposefully to annoy me, having admitted so after finding out i was irritated. i cannot credit him for any deeper motivation. although i wish i could.

on boredom

i waited for this book, A Philosophy of Boredom, to come in used at powell's for some time. i finally scored it for $12.50 and there were human bite marks in the cover. lucky for me i draw the line at saliva.

lars svendsen has won my heart with this enlightening read. i initially stumbled upon this title while beginning to research on my own piece about boredom. restlessness has always plagued me, dating back as far as i can remember (see "about me" section). i was thinking about writing a collection of anecdotes about the endless desire to fill my days with literally anything in an attempt to avoid the ailment that is boredom. as a child i felt pigeon-holed by the phrase, "You're only bored if you're boring." i knew i wasn't boring. i knew this because all of the people i knew who were boring were never bored. they were easily amused by anything. and it wasn't that i couldn't be amused as much as it was that those moments of amusement just swept boredom under the rug, they didn't cure it. i always knew it would creep back in. because my boredom wasn't just dissatisfaction with a given situation, it was dissatisfaction with everything.

svendsen defines boredom as an existential crisis that occurs when a need for meaning remains unsatisfied. boredom henceforth presupposes self-awareness, occurring only in a subject that perceives him/herself as an individual demanding a greater meaning from the world and the self. this temporarily boosted my ego, finally discrediting the above cliche that adults force-feed any child that might want/need more out of life than a t.v. twelve inches from their face.

i am only temporarily relieved, though; svendsen ultimately suggests that the search is pointless, as (he believes) there is no greater meaning to be sought. he puts simply, "an awareness of loss doesn't mean anything has actually been lost nor does it mean there is something to be won back." i suppose i have encountered this realization on smaller scales, but have yet to apply it to the grand scheme.

the only cure for boredom suggested in this far from boring study is a general acceptance. one cannot run from a boredom that infects the entire human race. for those of us who have not chosen to fill the eternal void with religion or work or babies or t.v., it is suggested that we simply succumb, that we accept boredom as a fact of life and try to develop a new configuration of self in this acceptance.

"All humans are lonely, some more than others, but no one escapes loneliness. The crucial thing is how it is encountered, whether it is encountered as a restless absence or as a possibility for serenity...In loneliness there is a possibility of being in equilibrium with oneself rather than seeking equilibrium in things and people that have such a high velocity that they constantly slip away."

i am left contemplating my sense of self, trying to make peace with my restlessness, and wondering what made the previous owner of this book bite into the cover. i wasn't at all compelled to do so. hopefully it was extreme joy.

thumbs up, svendsen.

i'll teach you to be happy! i'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs!

the other day i was thinking about how, as an adult, much of my happiness comes simply from relief—the relief of having gotten a good night's sleep, the relief of the end of the work week, the relief of being regular, etc. this is sad to me. happiness should come from joy, not relief. so i set out to make a list of things that purely bring me joy, coming up with only six answers. which, according to most i've talked to, is about average.

1) dancing with friends, specifically to soul music or bad early nineties dance hits, but really anything,

2) singing loudly to the radio while driving in a car,

3) spontaneously breaking into song with any given company, the more the better,

4) making out,

5) going for late night walks during the summer; better if instigated by someone else, and

6) watching Ghostbusters. 1 or 2, really.

i would say this is a good start.

___________________________________

on friday i unexpectedly had fun driving around aimlessly with stacey, jeff, and noah from minneapolis. it was simple—lunch, ROSS [dress for less], Heathers, and a hideous picture of me in a periwinkle skirt suit—but really fun. and it didn't include anything from the above list. i felt relieved that i am capable of something other than...relief.