the college experience

train, subway, improv, roast beef, late night, stuffy nose, groceries, hairspray, panera bread, long walks, shivers, church, clementines, a nap, tacos, elf, ginger bread, a steam, Spanish class, enchiladas, hot chocolate, a christmas story, rain, pancakes, packing, car

YES

10 Days
from our textbooks,
the confining classrooms,
the drooping eyelids and raw air
A Break

ouch

I suffered a heavy blow today when I realized that I am not particularly "good" at anything. Nothing comes naturally to me. Oh. I'm great at baking cookies.

There is a slight pain in my head that comes and goes.

my name

My name means "dark princess" or "dark-haired, which was an honest coincidence, my mother told me. My name comes from the Irish county, called "Chiarrai" in Irish Gaelic, which means "Ciar's people." I am Irish, but I wasn't named wholly because of that fact. My brother suggested Kerry, and my mother automatically thought of the county in Ireland and liked it. I used to not like my name because it's uncommon. I've heard all the jokes involving the verb "to carry". I've had to correct the spelling for as long as I can remember. I think it's detestable when used in rhymes. 'Kerry' doesn't roll off your tongue by itself. It's blunt. It's bent. It's a scarecrow. It's a crunchy leaf falling to pieces in your palm. There's nothing very desirable about it. The spelling, though. There is something about its spelling... I imagine myself taking countryside walks through the county Kerry. I'd introduce myself to the people and maybe they would not take me for a tourist, accents aside. I would eat potatoes and cabbage and live a tranquil life. I would return home only to realize that I will never feel that free, that at home with myself for as long as I live.

Uh, I hate writing things about myself in Creative Writing. I would almost rather write a poem about my teacher's bald, shiny head.

Do I look like trouble?

I must. I've been yelled at by two different teachers this week. The first time, I was eating a sandwich in the lobby. Everyone eats there. I suppose sandwiches are prohibited. Cottage cheese, now that's fine. The second time, a teacher catches me walking to my Chemistry class during lunch without a pass. I was seeking help. Both teachers threaten to take away my privilege card FOR-EV-ER. Ooh, I've been warned. There are people cutting class and smoking in the bathroom, and yet I get a talking-to for not being anorexic and caring about my grades. CB West High School is a piece of work, that's all I have to say. And by work I mean crap. Just look at the front entrance.

It's Tuesday Night in America!