liberty: once a dream, now a bar

i am antsy as fuck. as usual. i will be in chicago in 48 hrs. my last final will be finished. i am seeing chicago as an opportunity to assess possible relocations- it's been on my fantasy radar for a while, despite its flatness- and, if nothing else, take a picture of myself interlocked within the constantly fluctuating reflections of the bean. i am almost more excited to see this stupid, probably underwhelming thing than i am to see van der graaf, actually.


i remember waxing hippie-poetic about the marvel of the bean. "it's, like, interactive art!" i think i slurred. "that's fucking BRILLIANT." i see the bean as a solid base: it's there, existing, benign. its job ended the day it was planted in whatever public square it inhabits. its livelihood, from that point forward, is solely dependent on the flux of its passerby- the way the sun hits the metal, the reflections of tourists in ill-fitting shorts and teenagers kissing and dogs being walked and day turning to night. it is never the same thing from one second to the next. it is art that is created by its environment. i could even go so far as to liken it to the grandiose miasma of Life Itself: always fluctuous, always changing, blink-and-ya-miss-it, a completely different angle and experience from someone else, even when they're standing just beside you- but that would be pretentious, so i shan't.
i have a new computer. my first, i'm-an-adult new computer. it weighs 3# and fits in my man-purse. i fucking love it. this is to blame for my sudden revisiting of writing on this narcissistic shitfest; i've been writing the whole time, just on my steno pad with a ballpoint... it is fascinating to look around and see exactly how many people are on facebook at any given time. the man to the right of me, for example. it comforts me somehow- validates my dorkiness.

i finished app today -anatomy pathology and physiology- and have one final left, for assessment, charting, and a massage based on the 'client's' needs. i am doing shockingly well in massage school, considering i haven't studied for shit and am rather burnt/indifferent on the whole thing. i did not study at all for the final yesterday and got 102% on the test- extra since i could blather about how urine is created in the kidneys. this makes me feel good, but guilty- guilty because i have no fucking idea as to how i'm supposed to apply this to my life, and when everyone asks me "so what are you going to do when you graduate?" i simper lamely "try to get into more school so i can push my loans out." i never had a dream of being a massage therapist. ever! BUT:


i am intensely interested in hospice care. i want to be the person who holds their hand. i want to reacquaint people with the bodies that have turned against them by way of disease. i want people to relax and be happy within their 'home.' that sounds so fucking fruity when i write it but: it is why i am in massage school. we have to do a case study next term: 5 visits with a client to address a specific condition. i want to find someone who needs reacquaintance with their body- they have alienated themselves from their physical needs via indifference, abuse, whatever. you have a fucking knee injury? i don't give a fuck. you want to increase your flexibility? i don't really give a fuck about that either. you want to feel good within yourself, as a human? allow me to step away and turn on, i don't know, iron & wine or similar. and then- relax.
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i tend to take a lot on emotionally when i give a massage. it is going to be a detriment if i don't corral this tendency.

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i was visiting a friend while she was housesitting for my former boss in tacoma. my former boss has an entire display cabinet filled with this:

it's fucking creepy! i enjoyed that sensation of "wow, i'd never have guessed..." but that quickly became "wow, i wish i'd never known."

my battery dies.