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doing things anally + early avery writings

somehow i think i've returned home from my second year of college about three times as anal as I left. a friend suggested that it may have something to do with living in a single this year and the resulting total control over my life and all facets of it. it's suddenly hard for me to watch a sibling cut up cheese or an avocado without watching them the entire time and swooping in to wipe the scraps into my hands as soon as they've moved on to their next activity (inevitable leaving the mess for me; why not? i'm there, and i'll twitch until it's cleaned up anyway.) but my analness isn't only about other people--i've become more routine based even when by myself. i have a bedtime routine, i have a certain order that i check sites in the morning, i've come up with a new organization system for my important papers. i respect this part of myself--i get stuff done, efficiently and well, for the most part. still, i'm a little worried of how this self will get along with camp, which embodies the less careful side of me. camp, where nothing is ever completely clean and leaving a mess for later is sometimes the best thing, might not like this avery, or she might feel burdened by it (which i clearly do not want). i've dealt with melding my eccentricities with those of camp before, but for some reason it feels like it may be more of a problem this year.

in other news, mother recovered a datebook in which she tried to write down things her darling children were saying and doing in the business year of 2003-2004. apparently i talked about god a lot, which is interesting to me. notable: my first poem, written out by me, age about four and a half, then read aloud so my mother could transcribe.

The rain we bless
Little heads all about
For we're God's little trudgers

the way things are

i hate it when i feel like there's something off in the world and i try to fix it, but it's one of those things that just IS, and i mess something else up by calling attention to it. theme of life right now. both with stuff i've done and stuff i want to do so bad because they feel wrong and are hurting me. i talk about everything too much. i need to just let it be.

i'm miserable.

electroconnectorpersonalshazambam

one of the things i like least about new england, or it may be just new england college towns and campuses, or maybe even only this specific new england college town and campus...anyway, sometimes i feel wildly deprived of stranger interactions, especially eye contact and small-talk. walking around middlebury, you can tell when someone approaching you has resolved to interact with you as little as possible. there is the fifteen feet away look at the ground, the fiddle with the ipod, the initiation of a phone conversation...all hints that this person thinks it'll be better for all involved, and certainly less awkward, if you don't even look each other in the eye. sometimes i want to shake these people. i want to hug them, and say "HEY! i'm a person! you're a person! isn't it cool that we have that in common! plus, say, ain't we walking down the same street together on the very same day? there's that, too!" (i may have borrowed a few words from my husband, paul simon, there...hopefully he'll forgive me, the peach. seriously. i just feel like if i had the chance to, i could connect with, on some level, every person i ever see. i'd love to sit down with them and ask them whether they like to wish on eyelashes too, whether they floss their teeth, and if they do, do they do it before or after they brush, whether they love gmail, whether they hate mustard, until we find something that we feel the same about. i don't think it'd take very long. with anyone! ANYONE! but, i can't even get some eye contact.

the worst part is that i'm totally socialized into it, myself. today is a strong day of resistance to the avoiding way. sad.

inspired

i want to make beauty like this

baby flirts

lately i seem to have charmed several childs at work. a couple days ago, a 3-year-old invited me back to his house to share his toys, because "you're a very beautiful girl, avery." when i told his mother, who works in the baby room at the center, about his invitation, she first laughed indulgently at her "flirt of a son." she then gushed, lightly, about what a good thing that is for my relationship with him. she said it means he's not threatened by me, as he is by his peers--he gets anxious about sharing the toys. thanks? flattering, i suppose. today, when i walked into the baby room, one boychild, about 10-months-old, beamed and followed me across the room with his eyes. when i washed my hands and turned around to greet him, looking him in the eye, he let a huge hiccup-y giggle, and then a sigh--one of relaxation, satisfaction, and gratification. the part-time helper called him out, laughing that he was a shameless flirt.

yet again, the kiddos seem to have gotten it right before the rest of us. this is validation. sure, you could call it flirting, as the women did, but that introduces clammy preteen ideas of fluttering eyelashes and barely cleavage. it's natural and healthy to let someone know when they are making you so happy. when you want to share your toys with them. when it makes you smile just for them to look at you. it doesn't have to do with sex or love games. it's about acknowledging that human contact is stimulating and exhilarating and beautiful. let's tell people we love when we are loving them, when their simple presence is all you need right then.

six feet under

I'm free like you
was it the day I left when you
finally gave in too
Something new,
that had to be the last day ooh.
You're bigger than this,
I could hardly see,
right in front of my eyes you stood for days,
(isn't that strange?)

I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
6 ft under,
can you hear me,
wonder

I finally got out,
I looked at the world to see,
in your eyes,
I figured it out,
What took you away from me,
I know daisies never bloom,
inside of a room
There's nothing left, for me, to do,

I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
6ft under,
can you hear me, wonder.

All the things I never got to say,
had a chance, wasted it away,
I never got to ask why.

Everywhere I go I see your face,
it can't be there,
It's driving me insane
to think its all gone by.

I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
I'm free like you,
6ft under,
can you hear me, wonder

Either way,
I know we can make it more,
if we can only depend, we only depend,
on what fate has for us,
this will never end,
never end,
never end,
never end,
never end,
Never end,
can't you see that this will never end.