varying degrees of light

They pulled up to the curb in a dusty Plymouth with the windows rolled down. The mother driving was framed by the cracks in the windshield, which were placed in such a precise and, seemingly, deliberate way. Her face sat perfectly in the center, in the bull's eye, of the target. Was it from a rock? A baseball bat? And, for that matter, were the children - wide-eyed and nappy-haired in the backseat - present at the time of the aggression? It was a warm evening towards the end of summer and the store had its air humming all day long. But they merely sat in the car - mother, father and daughters - for a few minutes, occasionally speaking, and smirking, at one another before pulling away. They had stopped for no apparent reason and they were now headed back from where they came, bounding over the heavy blacktop and causing the heat to stir.

-

The current rate of daily activities is some sort of outrageous. The semester hasn't even started and, physically, I'm feeling it. Jess has been eye-twitching, from nervosity, for the better part of a week. I predicted, for the upcoming year, that my social habits will be very waning in comparison to previous semesters. It's a good thing I'm not engaged, innit? And all the ladies say, "YEAH!" Oh, you crazy ladies.

The darkroom will require some assembly. As will the stereo. And all the other boxes (mostly mine) sitting unpacked in the apartment. It's good to see people milling around campus again - even if the campus is torn up with recently-initiated construction and nobody really knows how to mill about anymore. Liz Brand was the first person, that I know as a friend, that I saw back on campus from having spent the summer away from Sioux Center. Hooray for Liz Brand! You go, Liz Brand!

I found myself surprisingly angry today. For no specific reason... which I took to be a bad sign of... something. There were a handful of things that went against plan or preference, but nothing that should have risked an asshole's behavior to the parents (didn't happen) or a sudden screaming, to myself, in the car (which did happen and it was odd and oddly satisfying... and a bit unnerving).

Travel was, and is, a blessing. It's good to be reminded, again, of how lovely and funny some people are - to see that they come from similar family members and places.
But you're all coming back now (except for some and you will be missed), so let's start the semester of me-not-seeing-you-very-much and get it over with. Not that second semester will be any better... gosh, this is getting to be a bummer.

Rob says you love, love, love
then you die.
I've watched him while sleeping and seen him crying
with closed eyes.
And you're not happy, but you're funny.
And I'm tripping over my joy.
But I just keep on getting up again.

We could be daytime drunks if we wanted-
we'd never get anything done that way, baby.
And we'd still be ruled by our dueling perspectives,
and I'm not my perspective
or the lies I'll tell you every time.

-A bit of one of the most beautiful songs I know.
The Absence of God by Rilo Kiley. It is lonely and lovely and, as it goes on, it lifts the veil of depression. I promise.

Until I see you on campus.