not much of this makes sense to me.

Confession. I have never actually made it through Jack Kerouac's "On The Road." I am an English major, so when I tell people this they usually respond with a huh? The truth is that I haven't yet been in the right mental state to read it. Sal Paradise is in a state of flux, he is after all, traveling across the open roads of Western America. He is searching for a form of humanity, an authenticity that intellectualism doesn't quite grasp. His name, however, is quite ironic because if he is called "Paradise" you would think he would be able to find it anywhere, even in a crammed apartment with his aunt in New York, but I guess not. Poor kid. Instead, he is looking for real life experiences, pretty girls, apple pie and ice cream, a reason to live. Aren't we all? So why haven't I ever made it (until today) past the first 3 chapters?

Unclear. Perhaps blame it on my inability to question situations, or not. Blame it on the fact that that is exactly what I want to do but have always had strings attached, responsibilities to fill, no money to up and leave with. Perhaps my abroad experience was my intro to Kerouac. I am now connected, cued into his mode of thinking (though getting fully into his brain would be insanely scary, thank god IBM's Watson can only answer Jeopardy clues and can't yet read minds, or maybe that is how he knows the answers. freaky). "On The Road" is the teenage boy's dream life, which is cool I guess. I am still not convinced that Kerouac is a literary genius, but maybe I'll find out in chapter 5.

Enjoy the open road, and hitchhiking.

we can listen to the dark side of the moon.

So here is the thing. Summer is awkward. It always is, because it is one giant transition of time, space, and being. I miss the people at school, but not the place itself. I love the physical beauty of VT and if my HWSers could teleport themselves here stat that would be great.

But in all actuality, the feeling of not belonging in a place I should belong in is not exactly fun. Maybe it is because I wasn't cool in high school, or maybe it is because I was too cool. Nobody knows. The point is (wait I have a point?) is that I am not ready to face the prospect of actual life, which is a nutty realization because I thought I was living in actual life for the past 20, almost 21 thank god, years. As I have probably said before, living in bubbles is a great alternative to facing reality.

So let's all pop in a CD of ambient noise, roll down our windows, and drive around aimlessly in the summer rain. The reconnection to actual life has to start somewhere.

Enjoy the blurriness of the in between.

art house director. or something like it.

I have been back in the glorious eightohtwo for approximately a week. and guess what? I am already going somewhat crazy. I have slept more than any person should possibly be allowed to, have watched more episodes of "Greek" than is probably healthy (it's just sooo addicting), wandered around more random clothing stores on the search for "internship appropriate" attire than I would like (you know it's bad when not one but three J.Crew worker people ask to start you a dressing room and then one asks for your number and that is when you tell him you hate pencil skirts and mini cardigans and blazers and can't actually afford any of these things anyway. My mom said that was mean of me. She was probably right, but that was the truth and I enjoy telling the truth when it needs to be heard). Oh yeah and I have gone on 4 runs and played a few games of tennis just to break up the routine. So that's cool I guess. THANK GOD my internship to end all internships starts on Monday.

What internship? Public Relations Intern at Green Mountain Coffee. Buzz Buzz Buzz. Pretty much perfect.

So I guess this summer will consist of me being a responsible adult, which clearly will not be a problem considering as I am one, saving money to buy internship clothes once I figure out what is acceptable (and sorry buddies at J.Crew, can't really go back there), and trying to figure out weekend plans to visit people (Maine, Phili, Western NY anybody??) and getting pumped for the epic epic concert season that will be occurring, beginning with Michael Franti on June 5, Jason Collette (if that name doesn't ring a bell or make you melt, spot reading right now) on June 12th, FURTHER with Phil Lesh (!!!!!!!!!!!!) on July 5, potentially The Swell Season on July 28th, and MGMT on August 12th. And of course techno raves and lady gaga are in the works. don't judge.

so that's it for now. I am supposed to be researching for my analytical discourse I.S but blehhh not really feeling that at the moment. Especially when there have been about 1820919820917329837 books written since the 19th century and I have to find an undetermined amount of suitable ones. Trippy.

Enjoy the sun, wear your SPF 70.

if you're seeing stars just deal

done done done done done done!!!!!!! this means I am a SENIOR at William Smith College. Gross. Still feeling like a frosh who has NO idea what is going on. Will probably always feel like that. Innocence is bliss, but acting innocent is even more blissful. you can get away with more!

A list of things I have learned this semester:
1. Grades don't actually matter. Seriously, they don't. There are much more important qualities and aspects to a person that whether or not they can get good grades. So next time you are competing over them or feeling like a loser because your best friend gets A's and you get B's stop stressing asap and realize that in 5 years when you are in grad school, working your way rather quickly through your trust fund, being a ski bum, working your dream job, getting hitched in Vegas, WHATEVER you are doing you will not be concerned with what number was next to your name when you graduated from undergrad. Or at least I hope not.
2. There is nothing a nice bottle of CherryPharm can't solve.
3. The British got it right. Surrrriously.
4. Money comes and money goes. This year more money went than it came, but that is life, eh?
5. People also come and go. Those that matter will stay or find a way to weasel their way back to you.
6. Discourse analysis of 19th century novels better be fun.
7. Broken Social Scene are musical gods. Also the people behind the Hood Internet remixes are too.
8. The HWS library hierarchy. NERD ALERT. yes I spend way too much time camped out on the third floor (stern windows side) probably practicing discourse analysis, so I notice the huge influx of um Smithies during exam week. Please note: your level of productivity is totally determined by your choice of attire. jeans and make-up: limited to none. spandex that show wayyy more than they should: eh. sweats and t-shirts?: that's a bingo. and no make up. please. and put the blackberry down. who could possibly be texting you every 3.5 seconds? Just learn the material you have been blowing off for the past 12 weeks and please please please stopppp discussing your plans for that night, not everybody is able to go out every single night of the reading period! done ranting.
9. Having a huge room with two windows is not all it is cracked up to be. be prepared for randos knocking on your window at all hours just to say what up, which is pretty friendly of them I guess.
10. I have more British humor in me than I originally thought I did. Which is FUN!
11. Spaces are important. Physical, mental, every type of space. They matter. Cluttered is fine, as long as you don't constantly lose your iPod.
11.5. Places create your person. Each one matters. Nature has more of an impact than not.
12. Woody Allen.
13. We're safe for the moment. Still in the bubble of college. Don't prematurely burst it.

enjoy the feeling of great accomplishment as you realize you are DONE (don't you feel older already??)

I get world sick every time i take a stand.

ALSO:

NEW BROKEN SCENE TRACKS EXPOSED, the new album 'Forgiveness Rock Record' drops may 4th. go to their website www.brokensocialscene.ca to hear some yummy tracks.

ENJOY BSS.

Whatever Works.

Stuck in rut. Or something. But broke out recently, and MAN it is good being reunited with the world.

I truly credit my new found sense of um not happiness because I am always happy in some way, but ironically upbeat attitude to my main man Woody Allen. After the 3.5 weeks straight outta academic hell, I made the executive decision to blow of reading 'Vanity Fair'(sorry, professor, I read ummm 30 pages of it!) and instead focus all of my spare time on Allen's 'the Insanity Defense' during spring break (I also need to take this time to apologize to my gorgeous teammates who had no idea why I was laughing so hard I started silently crying on the plane after a ridiculously boring lay-over. Read the book and you will understand). I have decided that Woody Allen, as nutty and twisted as he may be, (I mean seriously Woody, you thought marrying your step daughter was a good idea? Okay,when we finally meet we can discuss life decisions. I give good advice.) is my intellectual soul mate. Why? Because he made up his own history of the sandwich and presents it, with what one must imagine to be a completely straight face. 'After four years of frenzied labor, he is convince he is on the threshold of success. He exhibits before his peers to pieces of sliced turkey with a slice of bread in the middle. His work is rejected by all but David Hume, who sees the imminence of something great and encourages him...' Now that is excellent writing, something which we could definitely not come across in 'Vanity Fair'. Okay, so how does this relate to my new outlook on my current situation (stuck in Geneva, not sure if I should be here, etc). Well, it taught me to eat more sandwiches. Kidding. In actuality, I realized that the light of situations can be found when we least expect it, but when our inner voice knows we need it the most. I guess I needed to be reconnected again with with my nutty side in order to see that I am truly okay.

New attitude: 'All I know is that nothing moves faster than the speed of light, so we may as well relax' ('Whatever Works).

Enjoy the random laughs that come in 'the strangest of places, if we look at it right' (garcia).

there's a darkness upon you that's flooded and light

When I first finished George Eliot's novel The Mill on the Floss, I thought I found a book to add to this list of books that have changed my life. So far, that list is quite minimal, only Dave Egger's The Heartbreaking Work of a Staggering Genius, John Irving's The World According to Garp, and Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being are on that list, so needless to say I was pumped at the notion of adding another one because it makes me feel very literary and smart. As soon as I started developing a thesis for my midterm essay for my 19th Century English Lit course on The Mill on the Floss all passion for Eliot's work flew out of the window. Ugh. It just caused me to question why. Is it the system of education I am trapped in that makes me this way? Is it the fact that I want to separate myself from knowledge that is put on us in order to choose my own way of thinking? Seriously developing a thesis for a book I loved was the hardest thing, and it seems odd that this would be the case. Some things are better left unexplored, the more poking and prodding that goes on ruins the initial and unconscious love.

Enjoy the thesis? ew.