The stars in your eyes light up the Skies

Well I have returned to the comfort of four familiar walls and now place myself before a blank computer screen, beginning to attempt to sum up the past six days in something that gives you at least an inkling of my grand adventure. For now, I'll stick to a summary of events. The emotions, I will save for another journal entry.

It all began with Thursday's trip through the airport: my lonely gaze out the window as we swept over unrecognizable terrain, heading north along the California coast. After an interesting adventure involving a confusing bus line and a homeless man asking me if I needed directions (while he eyed my conspicuous luggage), I arrived at my ugly, 70's-style hotel with its gold decorations and cigarette water.

The bathroom: pink tile~ and the Carpet: green&gold.

After settling into the room, I took my own adventure down to Fort Mason, said a surprise hello to Zak Landrum, and then traipsed about the city in search of USF and a good cup of coffee.


I ate dinner alone in a crowded restaurant and the waiter gave me a series of pitying looks and flirtatious remarks, including, "Hey. You're keeping me company, too."

I thought, This is very, very sad. But strangely liberating. I ate dinner alone, surrounded by lovey-dovey couples, and instead of staring at my plate, I made conversation and got a free drink and left a cute tip. I should do it again.


Thursday night, I sat in a round room on a squishy sofa in the heart of the University of San Francisco and discussed the MFA program with a representative and about five other prospective graduate students. The night concluded with a glass of wine at a wine bar, by the light of a candle and the warmth of conversation with Zak.


Oh, and a round of gross battle wounds erupted across my heels so I was forced to take action, involving the purchase of tacky socks and a lot of bandaids.

Friday, I made my way through the deepest part of Oakland's ghetto and arrived at Mills College: the all-girl's oasis nestled in the middle of a large forest surrounded by barbed wire in order to maintain a safe separation between the students and the gang-infested surroundings.

On the bus ride to the college, a black woman leaned over the bus chair behind me and said loudly, "Whatchou-Doin here, White girl?"

On the other hand, the college was gorgeous. And the interview was fun. I went on a tour of the school and spread myself out on the grass, reading and burning my skin.

Saturday morning, after a breakfast of crepes with Zak, I met up with my cousin (well, actually, I am her mother's cousin... my family's weird) Erin and had delicious tea and GREAT conversation. Like I've said before, I love family. I hadn't seen her since I was a kid, but she's as lovely as I remember her, with sparkling eyes and a heart full of wisdom.

The rest of the weekend is a blur, bookended and caressed by moments of self-realization and a continual outpouring of myself into the nurturing of a beautiful friendship. Zak and I visited the Opera House on Saturday and the San Francisco ballet gave us a performance of a classical piece that was familiar to my aching limbs, an interpretation of Ibsen that moved my heart to tears, and a more modern piece that dragged me to the end of my seat and left me begging for more. I also saw Zak's play Saturday night--the Magic put on a performance that displayed raw, beautiful human relationships--at both their best and at their worst--driven by the conflict surrounding a cancerous diagnosis, one woman's desire for survival, and the ultimate acceptance of Surrender. I am so proud to know that Zak was involved in its development.

Sunday we basked all day in the light of the sun and in the warmth of a deepening friendship, then took an adventure to Cory's, where we witnessed (and, unfortunately, sampled) a bacon concoction just begging for a heart attack, played a few rounds of Mexican Train, and tried to remember who played in the Superbowl and half-heartedly wondered who won.

(Zak's domino creation before he let me destroy it)

As far as the Super Bowl goes, I still have no idea. But I did win one round of Mexican Train.




After wandering through a few bookstores, after a few more long conversations, after a dinner adventure at Cora's and after a rather normal viewing of the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, I bade my farewell to the city and all its beautiful occupants, and returned to the airport, where I got felt-up by a security guard, got my bag opened and inspected, and wondered, "Do I really look this threatening?"


When I spotted a little girl being returned a violated-looking teddy bear, I felt a little better. But not much. I mean, seriously. Do I look like I have a gun hidden in my cleavage? Or a bomb under my belt? I don't think so. America.


Needless to say, my graduate interviews are complete. I came home to a telephone call offering a raise for my pending job (which I start next Tuesday, by the way). I will have about four more students, twenty more dollars a day, and not much more work. So now, not only am I responsible for the 8th-10th grade English and History, but I'm also proctoring the English independent study course for the 11th and 12th graders.

Life's ridiculous. But grand.


I've missed you all. Thanks for putting up with the overflow of information. Now: to clean my room and pack for my next move.


I'm reminded again of how temporary every resting place has come to be for me: I visit a city, I sleep in two beds and a couch, I come back here and spend a few more nights beneath my parents' roof, then I make my way back to the snow and to a basement without the warmth of another human to press their comforting hug around my shoulders at the end of a taxing day, or to join me in prayer at the beginning of another. I long even more for permanence. But I am excited for my next grand adventure.