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Booklog
Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs
My mother is standing in front of the bathroom mirror smelling polished and ready; like Jean Nate, Dippity Do and the waxy sweetness of lipstick.
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
The Salinas Valley is in Northern California.
The Straw Men by Michael Marshall
Palmerston is not a big town, nor one that can convincingly be said to be at the top of its game.
Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
Later than usual one summer morning in 1984, Zoyd Wheeler drifted awake in sunlight through a creeping fig that hung in the window, with a squadron of blue jays stomping around on the roof.
Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges
In 1517, Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, feeling great pity for the Indians who grew worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines, proposed to Emperor Charles V that Negroes be brought to the isles of the Caribbean, so that they might grow worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines.
Finished
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posted Saturday, September 15, 2001
Beginnings and Endings
So, the key to this whole thing is to just start typing. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to "write" anything down in fear of seeming nonchalant about the week's atrocities or cold or heartless, but I know the key is to keep up the forward movement. At least I can type with my eyes closed.
School orientation was today. It feels weird to say I'm a graduate student because that always carried the weight and presumption that said student was equipped with an arsenal of actual knowledge. Any concrete knowledge in my head has long since sunk to the depths never ? or randomly ? to be recovered.
Somehow, I still maintain the hope that I'll meet some good and interesting people at school during this program, but as I walked with a group of twenty or so new enrollees, that hope faltered. I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise, since the dedicated students who actually aim for high achievement are in places known for it. Harvard. Yale. Columbia. What kinds of people did I expect to be attending a small, technical college in America's Bible Belt-Buckle? I stopped myself somewhere at this point in my train of thought.
After orientation, I bought my books and headed up to Denver to meet with Susanna, an intern of Jeff's who, coincidentally, is from the same city in Taiwan that my mother was from. We've written a few emails back and forth over the past few months, and decided it was time to actually go over some concrete evidence my mother left of her existence ? a few letters from her family ? and some of my Chinese lessons.
She made me rather uncomfortable, because she is so polite and impersonal (although extremely friendly and a good conversationalist). It is hard to explain unless you are familiar with native Chinese. Physical contact is unusual in Chinese culture, and when I went to hug her goodbye she stiffened slightly, obviously uncomfortable. I figured she'd just have to get used to it, but I also vowed to expand my personal bubble a foot or two outward.
After a quick jaunt around the city, I joined Lindsay for dinner. The usual dim sum and then some at Sien Sien, with a hefty side order of bitching. As much history as we have together, I'm starting to grow weary of her constant complaining but I'm not going to join her by making this a bitchsession about her, either. I know I accepted this as part of her personality when we became friends oh-so long ago, but right now I'm just exhausted.
A few more stops at a birthday party and a quick stop at a concert to see a friend, and I'm back at home. Truly exhausted. I can't imagine what the rescue workers in New York feel like right about now. I'm channelling my remaining energy to them. So sleepy. Good thing I can type with my eyes closed.
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