User Profile

(2005-7-11)

My year in Japan was the greatest year of my life. I'll spend the rest of my youth trying to live up to the fun, the excitement I found there. I'm worried about growing up too quickly and I desperately want to enjoy the rest of my youth--as if it's going to end at some indeterminate point in the near future. At the same time--this is the first of many contradictions--I have no real idea, yet, of what I want to do with the rest of my life. In less than a year, I'll have a double undergraduate degree in two unrelated but equally fascinating fields, which I'll probably end up not using. Then "real life" begins--or so I am told. I'm considering too many options post-graduation to list them all here: hopefully, within another six months, the list will be considerably shortened and I will have found some focus.

For now, though, I'm still wandering. And learning. And having fun, where and when possible (always and everywhere).

(formerly)
(2003-10-07)
I'm twenty twenty-one. Take that at face-value because it's a significant piece of information. To be twenty is to not be sixteen--to be past head-over-heels romance and knights of honor--and it is not to be twenty-three or, perhaps, -seven (the odd numbers carry the weight), to have carved a small place in the world but to still be carving, not much breathing room yet, above many but below most. Somewhere in the middle. I'm stuck in a wedge in many ways.

I'm in Japan for a year. I doubt I have any idea what I've gotten myself into. That's all you need to know to begin--the rest is up to you.

Welcome to my head, neh?

(formerly-formerly:)
The chopped-up body of a Jew, though his head was uncovered. The smooth, white skin of a boy who had never worked or fought in his life, and yet a posture of utter boldness, as if he had never met an equal, let alone a superior. His face had the peace of someone who had never known hunger or fear, and though he hadn't the forearms of a warrior or the thighs of a plowman, he wasn't scrawny, either. And he was so strangely clean and odorless, except for the tang of sweat from his recent exertion. There was a kind of beauty to him that for just a moment had stirred in her a kind of recognition, perhaps a desire; the thought passed through her mind, Is this how angels look, beneath their robes, shed of their wings? Certainly in the proud, commanding tone of his voice there might be the authority of an angel; it was plain he considered himself as regal as she. And yet he was so oblivious to shame that he would take clothing from her body and put it around his own.
It was possible to imagine him touching her, his clean young body possessing hers, yes, even with that strange maiming of a Jew. She would not shudder at that part of her wifely duty. But it was impossible to imagine such a man becoming king.
Was his very boyishness the reason he was chosen? In that case, was it not a virtue to be admired, and not a failing to be despised?

(enchantment,card)

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