Dear Rosh Hashanah,

Today I've been reminded of this holiday three years ago.  A friend (still a new friend at the time) was going through a break up, and I was introducing her to my Jewish traditions, starting with Rosh Hashanah.  As it does this year, Rosh Hashanah fell about a month into the school year, and as my friend saw it, offered her an opportunity to start over.  This is what I love about the timing of Rosh Hashanah: when you don't get things right at the start of the school year, you get to start over again just a month (ish) later.  And, you get ten days to consider what hasn't made the school year what you wanted it to be, and you get to start over. 

Though the Jewish calendar isn't meant to make transitions into school years easier, I've always found it helpful.  Perhaps even more so this year as I begin to try and imagine my life outside of the academic calendar, though I don't believe that's possible.  Also, it gives me an opportunity to reflect: this time last year I was... This time next year I will be... And both of those are hard.  Both sentences end in ellipses for a reason.  Needless to say, I've always found Rosh Hashanah helpful.

This year I'm giving greater thought to Yom Kippur, the day of atonement.  Each year I try and think of my sins of the past year, and think of ways to change or to apologize, and most years I come up empty.  Or I feel like I have no ability to change.  But this year I'm taking advantage of Yom Kippur, take my ten days to reflect on my life and how I interact with those in my various communities.  I'm giving it greater thought this year. 

Course, it could just be that I really want my name written in the book of life for the next year.  Or, maybe I really want my apples and honey. 

Shana tovah.


love,
hannah

Dear guinea worms,

It's been an interesting day for you.  I know about you thanks to Scott Westerfeld's Peeps (an awesome book!) but now I think I shall be known as "guinea worm girl" to my MWF class.  What a thing to be known for.  Enormously long parasitic worms, right up my alley. 


The coolest part is that the snakes you see in this image - ARE ACTUALLY GUINEA WORMS.  Because you have to twirl them out of the body on a stick.  That's how gross these things are.  But they're so cool... Ah well, I'm famous for them now.

Thanks a lot Naomi.  Your character infested with a guinea worm gives me a weird reputation.  Well, I know how you are about bodies...


love,
hannah

Dear Tom Paine,

This is actually the title of my paper. 

Strangely, I am quite enjoying writing this paper.  However, my fear is this: in an attempt to attack the prompt in a creative manner, I have adopted a haughty and saucy disposition with which to approach contemporary American labor struggles, and while this is useful, I think I have gotten carried away in the character.  I'm having too much fun writing the monologue of this person who thinks the world of Thomas Paine, and I might be forgetting to include the factual elements for which this paper was assigned.  Will this be valuable? Will my sass exemplify the tone that Paine himself utilized? I know not where to stop.  I cannot hold back.  (I've also taken to parading about the house in my red cape (scarf) and claiming myself to be brilliant.  I am brilliant.  That's not the point.)  I have one page left until I have met the length requirement for the assignment, but I fear that it will be lacking in substance, but full of style. 

A solution! Quote Common Sense and bring it all back to the eighteenth century. 

I'm also at that point in writing where I "command + S" all the time.  It means I start trying to save pages on the Internet.  (My typing has gotten fun and flowery this evening.)  At some point I also need to go to bed. 


love,
hannah

Dear first paper of the semester,

You're always a challenge.  You always take three times longer than any other paper. Especially when you're not that hard.  So why am I putting you off? I do everything but prepare for you, when I know you're going to take hours and hours tomorrow.  Why? I should know better.

But not yet. 


love,
hannah

Dear creaky fence,

The fence around our house creaks.  I think it moves back and forth.  Especially when the wind blows.  It's creeping me out. 

I guess I could close the windows in my house.  It is getting a little cold. 

Yeah, that's a good idea.

Today I checked out two books from the library, and as I left the Circulation Desk I wondered whether library employees make note of what books people are checking out.  Can you tell when I've checked out every book on the library on _____? What about when I check out two books that have nothing to do with each other? Do you notice that? If you did, you might find my books interesting.  Also interesting are the bizarre books that colleges have in their library.  A History of American Funeral Directors?  Totally necessary for a solid education.


love,
hannah

Dear day in bed,

At first you were kind of fun.  You know, cause I got to sit in bed and watch Battlestar.  I was gonna drink water and watch tv, but the internet wasn't loading super fast today and I wasn't drinking enough water so I just laid in bed and tried not to move.  Also, in my sick haze this morning I posted on Facebook in such an unintentionally melodramatic manner that people became very concerned for me.  (It's okay friends, I just spent the day in bed.) 

Now that I'm sick and living off campus, I don't remember how I ever handled being sick in the dorms.  Did I spend all day in my loft bed? Did I hope that the dining hall would have soups that weren't too spicy? The other thing I always forget when I'm healthy is how debilitating being sick is.  When I'm healthy and I see sick people, I just want to encourage them to move and maybe that will make them feel better.  That doesn't sound good right now.  I'm trying to do something without moving or making my body want to shiver and/or sweat.  What is this world?

Staying in bed has kind of lost its charm at this point.  I'm ready to be well again.  Also, at this rate I will probably feel better on Monday, but I won't have done any of the homework for Monday.  So then I have a weird hope that I feel so gross that I won't want to go to class on Monday.  (I don't think I've ever not gone to class because of how I felt.)

Also, I'm breathing with my mouth open (duh) and sometimes I let out these tiny little squeaks.  They are pitiful.


love,
hannah

Dear first years,

You don't know how to walk yet.  Especially in the cafeteria.  Don't text, don't apologize, just walk! Look ahead, and walk with purpose, that's all it takes. 

Don't worry, you'll get it eventually.


love,
hannah

Dear fall,

You've arrived in full force! Suddenly it's chilly and I'm debating whether or not I need a jacket when just on Sunday I was sweating all over the place.  To make a comment on the weather in the past year is unnecessary: It's crazy. 

And each new phase of insane weather leads me to believe that the Earth must be changing.  I once asked my father whether there was actually an increase in the number of natural disasters, or whether it just feels like it.  He said that what has changed is the way that the disasters are reported and covered, but in fact each month I feel more sure that he is wrong. 

Although, I can never be sure that earthquakes aren't in fact us crashing into parallel worlds.  (Thanks Salman Rushdie.)  None of that has anything to do with the fact that my house is very excited to be wearing sweaters today.


love,
hannah

Dear September Sun,

I'm equally excited that fall weather is approaching and upset that the sun is about to to leave.  Today I sat in the sun for just a half an hour, but it was amazing.  I even had to worry about getting burned.  Though, that probably never would have happened.  I want to wear my sweaters and my boots but I loved catching the last rays of sun in my shorts.  As you can tell, I am deeply conflicted.

I spent some time before today remembering the events of ten years ago.  In fact, I've spent part of the last month thinking about September 11, because even though I was alive for the event, I feel as though I never be able to fully understand the effects of that day.  I don't understand the ensuing months, or wars.  I feel like I would have to do some serious studying to understand September 11.  So, I wanted to do something today to try and understand, but in the end, I gave it less thought today than other days in the past month.  Regarding September 11 I just feel lost, I don't know when or where to start. 


love,
hannah

Dear Mom,

It's very early on Friday.  On Friday you're going to find my blog.  Hopefully you found the link through my Facebook info page, if not, we need to have another Facebook tutorial. 

Once you have found my blog, post on my wall to let me know that you've found it.  Love you!


love,
hannah

Dear one year of blogging,

You're here! And that means it is my senior year.  W-O-W.  Has it really been a year? Has it really only been a year.  I've done so much in the last year, and I've learned how to schedule myself into oblivion so that I never stop running around town. 

I had a big senior moment today: I'm trying to get registered for this class, which is obviously full of more people than were intended for the class according to the registrar and for the classroom.  I've already spoken with the professor about taking his class (in fact he encouraged me to take his class) but my name isn't on the wait list.  I go up to the front desk after class where folks are getting their forms signed and putting their names on the wait list.  When I say hello, instead of asking for my name and explaining how their enrollment policy works he says "Oh, hello, I'm excited to work with you, I'm sure there will be room for you in the class.  We'll figure it out on Friday."  Folks, I have arrived.  Professors wanna work with me now.  It was in such stark contrast to sophomore year when I ran around campus begging professors to let me into a class just so I could fulfill my last science requirement. 

How the years have passed?


love,
hannah

Dear last (Rocky Horror) Picture Show,

It may only be four years old, but there is a tradition of screening Rocky Horror the night before classes start.  A final hurrah before the semester begins.  The only problem with this is that by the time we get to the pool in Rocky Horror I am ready for bed and wanting to get ready for the next day.

That said, I thought I would blog a bit before I embark on my last first day of school.  It's gonna be a crazy one.  Sadly, the outfit that I had planned for tomorrow (inspired by Tammi Taylor ya'll!) can't happen tomorrow as I must be on a bike.  That means we will have a skirty Thursday ya'll!

Alright, that's it.  I'm going to bed.  I've got to pull myself together for tomorrow. 


love,
hannah

Dear duck talk,

A duck talk is simple: a group of girls (formerly bound together by participation in a play) get together and talk about our ducks.  The first duck talk was mandated.  We had to have a duck talk, except we didn't call it that.  I think we called it "girlytime" then.  (The play we were all in had some really important sexual themes/discussions and the director thought that it was important we talk with each other before we went into rehearsal.  I laughed it off, and I thought it was going to be really dumb.  But it was amazing.  Rarely are conversations given purpose; most of the time conversations about sex, and romance and confusion are common but shallow, but duck talks allow for depth and total honesty and, most importantly, sharing. 

We now call it a duck talk because of a joke that was made at the first talk.  We felt that we could have all of our lives in order (all of our ducks) and then there would be one duck just staring at us (the love/sex duck).  That duck is always trouble.  So now we have duck talks. 

And just for a good helping of irony, this morning we made smoothies from my "man-catching" blender.  It didn't work.  That's okay, our ducks aren't going to be in order any time soon.


love,
hannah

Dear Domino,

Damn, you're a catchy song. 

Do you know this song? I like this song.  I was just at a (very fun!) party, but whoever was DJing wasn't doing the best job.  I didn't even want to dance.  I'm not saying that this song would have saved it, but apparently it's my follow-up party song.  And that means it's time for bed. 


love,
hannah

Dear pope table,

Tonight, at Buca di Beppo, I dined at the pope table.  We were not quite enough people to fill the enormous table, but we tried.  But then we had to rotate the pope so that he wasn't staring at any one person for too long.  The best part about tonight's dinner was that I thought I had said goodbye to this group of people, I thought we weren't going to happen again.  But we do! We live on! It's amazing.  And, there are even people we've added. 

Also, we (myself and another Whovian who talk a lot) managed to wait four hours before talking about Doctor Who.  That's a bug record for us. 


love,
hannah