Taylor Swift

State of Grace

And like this, the first spring storm opens me. I was torn from complacency. The sorrow nearly suffocating me, and I strangled paper for release. I drenched it, scratched it, savage in form and it responded. I left it on a white wall, blinked, and took it down; graphite smudges the only remnant. It sits like a dog at my feet.

Or a child. And like that, I moved my chin up and parallel to the ground. I talk unashamedly, no apologies in sight. I am here, on this strong earth, so let the flood come. A month ago I taunted the universe, calling insults and begging to hit me harder the next time. Sometimes being human goes to my head and I forget the universe always answers. 

Yet I am here, surviving. A colleague asked me why the "point of no return" is my favorite idea to iterate in my work. My heavy lids only let me sigh at the time.

I know now that the changing event, the pivotal point of any story, is always the time one learns and grows. It is my first love, this passion for learning. I know only life from it.

Mark Time

Mercury is in retrograde for the next month, and as a sun sign ruled by this planet, I will blame every "misfortune" on its movement. Minor annoyances have become highlighted, is all.

Spring semester is now begun, and I start each week with six hours of work study. I open doors for people and shuffle papers and smile at unsure freshmen. I choreograph my own thought patterns and research within the small bustle of this office. 

I have a blank wall waiting for notes; begging, you see. I have finally received Random Access Memories, so "Daft Punk Syndrome" mapping is in full attention. As is Taylor Swift and her mirror-like quality.

Moving is easy. Hand over hand is a predictable way to know the world is moving forward. It is under my control, this situation, and it will soar because I am giving it attention.

But waiting?

"Wildest Dreams"

I have recently acquired Taylor Swift's entire discography, quite a treat to kick off this semester's research. Upon listening to 1989 on repeat for the last week, one of Swift's songs is reminiscent of Timberlake's "Blue Ocean Floor." Not that this is a diagnosed "syndrome"; rather, this might be the keyhole to align a similar story arc in contemporary pop music albums (those on "this side" of the millennium).

I've also begun Roger Fouts' Next of Kin. This book has quite honestly rearranged many doubts I've held onto about my coming graduation and what "happens after." Fouts' testimony and journey through not only academia, but his research and love for his chimpanzee family is inspiring. I am hoping one day I can tell him how much I admire his perseverance.

And like this break, my waxing lust for writing will soon break way into a waning love when spring semester arrives.

She

Final critique over; final research paper turned in; yet for Thanksgiving. I have been asleep since Mercury went into retrograde, finally waking to Taylor Swifts' "Blank Space" this morning. 

Funny how one professor can move me from a complete sprint to sitting in two months. I began the semester telling myself I am taller than I think. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I have a choice. I am no longer pushed on, my reaction as the chess move; instead, I am on the fold imminent. I know I can lead while in motion and not wait for an invitation.