History . . .

is my new pizza, and instead of making it, I read it. Someday hope to help make it, though. I suppose in some sense I make history every day; I read on a regular basis the accounts of ordinary people in extraordinary situation or times. Can you imagine historians in two or three hundred years sifting through blogs for that "primary source," authoritative perspective on the "feel" of the times? Nerdy.

This one's for you, nerd like me two or three in hundred years from now - this symbol means happy way back when (now): :)

Nerd.

'S cool

School, that is. I'm back in it. I'm taking the fullest/most full/brimming course load, all upper division history. That means 28 books this semester, over the course of 15 weeks of actual class. It's a lot, and I am so relieved and excited at the prospect of only studying five days out of the week. What a life! What was I doing fucking around with failure and missing class and not doing readings?

I might just stay in school for the rest of my life. Grad school sounds amazing right now . . . we'll have to reevaluate once I'm halfway through the semester and I have to read two books a week. Perhaps I'll sing a different tune?

Aluminum Birds

All the shuffling souls with wheels or feet
On polished carpet and poured concrete
Just enough to never be certain of
How many shoes or how far they’ve come

Humanity, or rather humankind
For how the impatience redefines
All racing to wait or waiting to race
On treadmills stretched over miles and days

How we splice the space and chase time’s flight
To this metropolis no better than mine
But people reach out, lines are cast
To reach earths better in light of the past

In aluminum birds suspended
Skipping across fogged mirrors endless
From Rockies frozen, the wheat on the plain
Through Cascades the seas just can’t contain