SeaWorld

Not sure if you’ll ever read a post here that isn’t half music. It’s like I can’t cook, talk, or take picture anymore.  Actually, I really can’t take pictures now since my poor sweet pink camera that lasted so many grand events drowned.  There wasn’t enough rice in the world to revive it. It was my Wilson. 

Oh cripes! You guys.  I’m 11×2.

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Maybe it’s because sometimes I just feel like I’m a little spring, or bolt, in a great big machine that I can’t stop, speed up, or slow down.  It’s the big machine that calls the shots and I’m welded into the machinery’s steel intestines.  What if we just ‘stopped’? I think about that when I’m driving, running, waking up.  Sometimes it feels like my body wouldn’t stop even if I told it too, even if my mind were to command every fiber of my muscles to just “halt!” it wouldn’t be able to withstand the other levers pulling at my limbs.  Pulling me every which way just to push this big machine forward.

“Dramatic much, Domico??” All the sweet time, don’t  ya know..

Do you ever feel like that?  Like every limb is being pulled  into the machine? And if you give into one limb the others pull harder?  Eventually your body is so limp and tired that the only thing left to save your sanity is to stop trying to fight it, and just pray the machine spits you out someday?

Ok, carry on.  Now that the semester is coming to a finale here’s a little overview of a typical Day in Hersh (or at least a day in my apartment)

Phase 1: Wake Up (maybe surprise your roommate)

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Phase 2: Class it up:

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Phase 3: Decide we’re un-employable decrepit squirrels and realize there’s no toilet paper:

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Phase 4: Evaluate Life Choices, Round 300+:

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Phase 5: Slink over to your roommate’s doorway and coerce her into giving you the pep talk you just gave yourself, just so you can hear it in a different voice:

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Don’t worry. You’ll trick a hospital into hiring you eventually….

 

But if that doesn’t convince ya:

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Post Pep-Talk:

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Phase 6: finish all the assignments we “forgot” about all semester

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Phase 7: Try on all your weird clothes and feel like a unicorn of fashion:

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Go to sheetz more than once in an hour:

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Sleep.

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So. They are cutting me loose from Hersh in 2 weeks.  And it’s weird to think that by May 11th I will no longer be able to nest in my neighbors living rooms regardless of what they are doing or what I smell like and that my version of ‘visiting’ may be called something different in civilized society.  Like, instead of finding me on your couch and offering me some rainbow cake you might call the police regarding someone breaking into your house instead..  You see, I will miss that.  Not being a felon for breaking and entering into people’s houses. On that note, I will also miss the terribly awesome vantage point my apartment window provides–I can see everyone coming and going down the Yellow Brick Road (or ‘Gray Asphalt of Irritation) to the Emerald City (The Hospital) and then back to Munchkinland (Nursing Village).  AND bonus: my bedroom window is basically a security camera to the parking lot.

Essentially I’ll miss being a Self-Assigned “Big Brother” Surveillance Officer of Hersh.

Anyways, I suppose that’s the way it goes, you know here in the Machine.  There is no break pedal, deceleration or acceleration–we just GO.  And when I think too much about it, I feel like life and people now are already just fragments of a life already lived and I’m just remembering the present from way far in the future–to confuse you more–I feel like I might wake up from a daydream as an 80 year old who was simply recalling past events, people, and places in her life.  OR is it that whatever I’m doing/living now is like I’m walking by myself under an aquarium tunnel and everyone else is some kind of sea mammal swimming on the other side of the glass and all I am really doing is just watching them swim around, but I want to be in the aquarium too, not just looking at it.  Maybe the whales don’t know I’m even there in the tunnel staring at them and they’re just doing their thing, living their whale-y lives just like they are supposed to?  Why can’t I be a whale?!  “you know I speak whale…” 

Now, that’s not a bad deal, watching everything from an aquarium standpoint.  On a more hallmark-y note I feel very blessed to have been in this time with the people.  There’s a fullness in being able to enjoy watching others lives happen and even to just enjoy the people you don’t know that well.  Sometimes just ‘taking in a person’ is akin to observing a painting, it’s not the same as the other one and maybe you don’t particularly like it as much as another painting but it’s art nevertheless and if you allow it, each piece will show you a different insight to something that you’d not have been privileged enough to see otherwise.  I love that.

So there you go kids, you don’t have to do drugs to completely mind trip.

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Well that was fun, let’s talk again sometime.  Probably in 3 months.

*photo credits to pintrest and Taylor.

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