salience

The break was refreshing. I miss the familia very much, being 975 miles away. And I never really comprehend just how much until I am able to be with them again. New memories, new pictures. Some highlights:
-The Mexico/NY torch run mass at its stop in the Atlanta archdiocese
-vegging on my brother while watching football on turkey day, so much comida!!
-la mama landing a job (yay!!)
-el papa getting his contract (yay!!)
-grandma being moved to her own private room, from the ICU, in the hospital
-making a two feet tall paper mache angel for la mama
-going to the Chattahoochee/Parkview playoff game with Lorenzo and Carmen
-watching Carmen leave us to spend the game with her CHS Band friends
-cheering loudly for Parkview, while sitting on the Chattahoochee side, in the freezing cold
-laughing at el papa and Lorenzo singing and dancing along to my man Michael in el papa's truck
-watching Pirates and going to see Haunted Mansion with la familia

The future can wait.
Right now suits me just fine.

Oh, amusing:

::Shell comes back in the room::
::I'm listening to music::

Me: I can see why he likes this song.
Her: This one? ::listens::
Me: Yeah, Phish.
Her: Alex's?
Me: No, man. Logan's.
Her: Honestly Maria, I can never tell who you are music swapping with anymore.
Me: What?
Her: I mean, do you even know where these files come from?
::both of us are now laughing::
Me: MTDs? Musically Transmitted Diseases?
Her: I remember when music used to mean something. You know, you'd go over to someone's house--
Me: Huh?!
Her: ...and listen to records before letting someone just take them!! Now it's just, oh you want it? Here it is, just take it. Go for it!!
Me: And?
Her: There's no getting-to-know-you process, it's just straight to the goods!! Pure music whorification!!

1. Kirstin's birthday poster, complete with a Two Towers poster print out and one (appropriate) Amish girl drawing by Michelle, reads something like this:

HAPPY BLINK-182 DAY!
PS HAPPY LOTR 2T EXTENDED DVD RELEASE!
PPS HAPPY 20TH BDAY KIRSTIN!

Only in 617 ya'll.

2. It makes me smile, being addressed directly in Paul's livejournal.

3. What?? A scrap metal band?! This is wicked pissa, to use a Dave Healey phrase.

This weekend has been a really good one. The past week has been incredibly stressful, for many reasons. My sanguine dreams are starting to calm down, so sleep is more of the rest it should be. There for a bit it was more work, emotionally, for me to be asleep than it was for me to be awake and distracted.

Thursday night I saw Love Actually with Shell and Kirstin, now known as The Dork Trio. (For some reason, it just works out that we share similar obsessions, e.g. Trilogy Tuesday on 16 December, anyone?) It was a really great movie, not the expected romantic comedy at all. Along with a great script, there is some exceptional acting.

Friday night we de-Halloweened the living room with Flora's Christmas lights and then spent some quality time with Disney: The Emperor's New Groove and Mulan. Jen (Diane's roommate) hung snowmen ornaments from the soffet in front of our bay window for each of us, our early Christmas gifts, which is way cool. She's planning on bringing some nets of lights to hang down the window which amuses me to no end--it's fun, collectively getting into the Navidad spirit. Paul called me and I had the esteemed pleasure of not only catching up with him, but talking to his thirty-something roommate Gordon, who insisted being half-mexi was a great thing indeed, just like Taco Bell. Ha. My baby girl Frazier also stopped by which was cool. Apparently she and Paul know the same people, she being a Marietta, Sprayberry girl. Just goes to show that it really is a small world.

Saturday was spent cleaning the place up a little and Navidading our room. Flora had been planning on meeting her Tams kids who were visiting (her high school folk) their Harvard Law friend (also a Tams kid I believe) and then going out to celebrate another Tamser's birthday. We were in the middle of Trading Spaces, a show Shell and I used to catch religiously but haven't been able to this year, when Flora decided we needed to go with her. True, we hadn't really left the room all weekend, but really, who is cooler than us anyway? And what other options are there besides the drunken gatherings on campus? Definitely not appealing, by any means. After about ten minutes of debating whether or not to go, how much it would cost, who would be there, what we would wear and whatnot, Shell and I decided to venture out of 90. We were running late, so the plan was to meet up at the club where the Harvard/Tams kids were heading (The Matrix off Bolyston). I was expecting it to be an awkward time, not really knowing anyone besides my girls. But I'm glad I went. I met some really cool, if not dorky kids, both at the club and then back at Harvard afterwards. Plus, we were laughing the entire time with my completely wiping out in front of the 7Eleven (one minute I'm walking, the next I'm sliding down a concrete ramp, my feet are eye level and I'm on the ground) on the way to catch the T, and then Flora falling down the T stairs, Kelly and I trying not so hard not to laugh, while she continued to talk on the phone, and fall. :) It reminded me I'm not an academic machine, but someone who needs to move and experience...

It's Sunday. I can't believe there is only a little over one more week until Thanksgiving break. Sometimes it feels like band camp was just yesterday. Shell and I were discussing "time." It does seem the older we get, the more quickly time passes. Is my junior year really half over already??

Acrophobia.
Not just a fear of heights.
A pathological disease.

It's not being able to trust yourself enough to not jump from high places, not having the faith in yourself to not throw life away.

Think about it.

One of the best scenarios in the Carroll School of Management at BC: core classes taught by foreign intellectuals, but TAed by former Harvard Law professors. Line of the day, regarding negotiations and influence: "It's not show friends people. It's show business."

Out of nowhere he says:

"You are Maria Esperanza Suarez and that is a very special thing to be.
Remember that for the rest of the day."

And you know, he's right.
And I will.
Thank you. :)

Phone: la mama. It's Leukemia. Malignant cancer of the bone marrow and blood. Fourth stage. One to three months life expectancy. We'll see what tomorrow brings, sure. She might have more time. Love you, bye.

Wait!! Please. Wait. Before you, before you leave—I just wanted to say… I mean, I need you to know… Look!! We have the same fingernails. You can’t leave me Grandma, you just… Can’t. You have molded so much of yourself into me already: it would be an absolute disgrace for you to leave me unfinished, right? After college I will write for Random House; I will audition for Michael Flatley and join his Irish dance company; I will design cathedrals; I will develop names for new colors with Crayola; I will record movie scores with the MGM Orchestra. But—I can’t do it without you. You've instilled in me the importance of education, the importance of following my dreams, but what fun will any of it be if you are not here? I need to share this with you. I can’t do it without you.

Who will finish me?

I've sat in your kitchen, home, so many times, memorizing you. Now I want to memorize my memorizations of you: I can’t leave anything out. Because I know the day will come when that will be all I have. I know it isn’t possible for you to be here for much longer, I can feel your life slowly leaving your body through my bones. I can feel tears behind my eyes, your brown eyes, and your thoughts behind my lips. We are soul mates, Grandma.

We. Are.

You are everything I need to be. So Grandma, before you go, I want you to know you have taught me so much. I know you cannot finish me, I have to do that myself. But please, please just hold my hand once more--once more before your life leaves me, here alone. Just look at my fingernails. They are yours, Grandma. I am yours.

I saw her today, in the dining hall. The Evil One from freshman year: my former roommate, Sascha. I was making my way through the after class rush to the door when I realized I knew the four shades of blonde coming towards me. In that instant I played with the idea of smiling, of saying "Hi, how is your rich family doing?", of throwing her on the ground and beating her with my finance book. So many memories, so many hassles, so many frustrations. I am a stronger person because of the entire ordeal, more open minded, even. If nothing else, she lowered my expectations of the general populace. But no, I decided conversing with this leech of humanity would prove futile, and really she stood no chance against my finance text as it significantly outweighs her, so I opted for the expressionless stare. I saw the light of recognition spark, her mouth fill with a hallmark greeting. But before she could spill a word, I broke the gaze. And walked out the door.

After much convincing, I've done it. I've written and sent a letter to Mr. Chuck Palahniuk. Huge. This is huge. Admitting a fascination to the source himself. We'll see what it brings:

Mr. Palahniuk,

Dearest Mr. Chuck? Sir? How am I to address you, exactly? You see I have this problem of articulating my respect for you and your work. Aside from the vanity of associating myself with the idea of someday creating consistently, as you have done, I can only forward your name to others so that they may be afforded an opportunity to enrich their own lives. It is true, I am a Junior, Finance major, Spanish minor, barely scraping enough money together to pay for this Jesuit hierarchy I have elected to attend, yet I still manage to read as much of your material as possible.

Take a recent weekend endeavor for example. I had been awaiting the release of Diary for some time now. With $20 (mistake #1) in my pocket I found a window of time to grab a few of my friends (mistake #2) and run downtown to the Barnes n Noble’s (mistake #3). Upon arriving, I quickly found your books, complete with a Diary display. Yet, in my euphoria I had forgotten the work was only out in hardcover (mistake #1), thereby leaving my $20 shamed in its uselessness. But noticing there was an hour until the store closed, I took the most pristine copy of Diary within reach, determined to find a cozy spot in which to read. However, it being the weekend, Teen Angst was out in full force, especially in such a prominent establishment (mistake #3), leaving me little choice save for a bench near the rear window. It was a little too close to Help Desk Woman yes, but it was better than standing near the display under the watchful eye of Security Guard. Friends stayed close (mistake #2) while I devoured the first 100 pages. Every time my mind screamed from your words, I would seize an arm, a wrist, a finger, anything to bring me outside of myself again. The system worked well, I thought, until I realized not only was I causing friends pain, but I was an embarrassment to them as well. No one wants to be associated with that psycho by the window who can’t read in an intelligent, refined, collegiate manner. No matter, even though I could not legally leave with the work, at least I had experienced part of it.

And now I wait. Wait for someone I know to buy it, to read it, to tell me they’ve read it, and then to find an opportunity to wrench it from their clenched, possessive hands for just one hour please because I need to know how many more times Misty will stab her comatose Peter in the hospital, how many more times she will ask, “Can you feel this?” Alas until that glorious day, I remain a constant to The Cult site, reading excerpts over and over and over and over…

Oh I digress. Really the point of this correspondence is to thank you. Thank you for your characters, your plots, your ideas, your catchphrases. But above all, thank you for the obsession you have sparked within us all. Thank you for a recognition of the substantial.

Sincerely yours.

And now for something a little different:

If I were a Dead Russian Composer, I would be Igor Stravinsky. Known as a true son of the new 20th Century, my music started out melodic and folky but slowly got more dissonant and bizzare as I aged. I am a traveler and a neat freak, and very much hated those rotten eggs thrown at me after the premiere of "The Rite of Spring."

It's very much like that choking feeling, that contained hysteria just before the sobs start. Ever since this afternoon I haven't been able to get over the fact that so many are going through hardships while I remain in my safe bubble. It's the farthest extreme from fair, that so many have to suffer. All I can do is comfort from afar: send, say words of encouragement when I want so badly to be close to those in need. How do you say, with convincing confidence, "No, I'm sure he'll come back safe, I know it." Especially to a sick wife, everyday is a struggle. Whom does she have to turn to when he leaves on Saturday? Who will be her family foundation when my godfather leaves for Kuwait?

1. The weekend of insanity is over, thank goodness. For a few seconds there I didn't know if I would be able to swallow everything. A recap, sure.

Friday was Halloween (obviously) and we made the trek to Salem. I had never been in the state of Massachusetts on 31 October, so I wanted to partake in the festivities. It was a fun time, although extremely crowded.

Saturday was the Pittsburgh game. We lost, but we weren't trounced or anything, as was predicted. Hopes of a bowl game are starting to slip, which is unfortunate. The band is so close this year, it'd be anticlimatic not to get together over the winter break. After being with the marching band for 6 hours, it was time for a 2 hour dress rehearsal for concert band in Gasson 100. It wouldn't have been so bad if I still was playing alto, I can squawk away for years on that thing. No, the resistance on clarinet was quite a challenge--but we all made it through. Then it was time for the BCMB Talent Show in Devlin 008. It was only supposed to be a quick, fun time, but we didn't end up getting out of there until 11pm. It was worth it though. Some highlights:
-Kate's re-enactment of prank calling a freshman
-Metrognome and the Subway Elves rocking out, rather quietly, thanks to a less than ideal technical situation, then bringing back the bean skit, in its entirety, which was much appreciated.
-singing along to Paul's acoustic, 90's pop medley
Afterwards we all rushed to change for the belated Halloween/All Saints Day shindig at 1721. Shell and I had been plotting to do Kill Bill: me as The Bride and her as Gogo. It was last minute, but I think we pulled it off well. Everyone who has seen the movie liked it, others were just plain confused. (Eh, we can't expect the general student population to share our high standards, especially when it comes to being devoted to Tarantino, right? Right.) Jones came with us as well. He's a fool and quit this year, but we let him tag along for a fun, sax reunion. We had a great time, even though it was a challenge fitting the entire marching band into one apartment. The heat was incredible. Even with the windows open, the guys were passing out paper towels for the sweat. We left around 2am, but didn't get to bed until 4. It was an eventful time trying to get this freshman girl, Julie, back to her dorm. We think she's bipolar or something: that would explain her oscillating between bearing her soul to us and then trying to run off to go sleep in a dumpster--among other things.

Sunday was the concert band performance of the Music of Social Justice. We played An American Elegy (Ticheli, about Columbine), Watchman, Tell Us of the Night (Camphouse, about child abuse), A Hymn for the Lost and Living (Ewazen, about 9/11), A Movement for Rosa (Camphouse, about Rosa Parks), Symphony #1 in Memoriam Dresden (Bukvich, fire bombing in WWII), and Salvation is Created (by Tschesnokoff, for hope). Each piece is incredibly challenging, emotionally and endurance wise, so playing all of them in succession is no small thing. Unfortunately our performance was backed by the McMullen Museum on campus, which meant all of the old bourgeoisie were there, leaving no room for the musically inclined. And it is disheartening to finish with Symphony #1 and Salvation to almost silence. It's musical theater people. How can you not be affected? Are you not human?

2. This is the last week of marching rehearsals. Tonight is eboard elections and potential student leader evaluations. We'll see what everyone has to say about me running for drum major, along with who else can still run. (Oh you know how it is: you can't be on eboard and be drum major as well, or a section leader and drum major. It's too much. However, one can be on eboard and be a section leader, or on eboard and assisstant conductor.) I'm running for section leader again as a fall back if I don't get drum major. Eboard is decided this week, drum major/assistant conductor is decided after the tryouts at the spring rehearsal in April, and section leaders are decided after training, which ends some time after the spring rehearsal.

3. It's cold again. Mind numbing chills that stay with you long after you've come inside. Indeed, November has arrived.