Jolly Folly

Last night, we had a party. A Jolly Fall-i-day party. A costume party. We made pies and truffles and caramel corn and funnel cake. We set out chips and salsa and guacamole and crackers and cheese. We offered hot spiced cider and coffee. We had piles and piles of cookies. We made candy sushi out of rice krispies treats and fruit roll ups. We rearranged the furniture. There were sugar cookies to decorate. I dressed up like the Riddler from Batman. My other roommates dressed up like 1) An Avatar, 2) The Count from Sesame Street, 3) A Dolly, 4) An annoying next door neighbor in a bathrobe, 5) a Ninja, 6) A Hot Topic model, 7) Sara from the show Chuck (her boyfriend came as Chuck). We played the Nightmare Before Christmas on the TV in the garage. We sang Christmas carols. We put floating tea light candles in the pool. We played Apples-to-Apples and other Christian party games. We laughed and mingled and talked for hours. All the guys from our "brother house" came over. My best friend came dressed up like the Queen of Hearts. We tossed whipped cream up into the air and tried to catch it in our mouths.

I don't like parties.

OK, I like tea parties, but that's it.

I think there was a time in my life when I found parties interesting, but that phase has passed on. It really has. I like hosting parties about one billion times more than I like going to them, but still. I hate parties. What is wrong with me that I think fun is boring?? I like tea parties because they're all about drinking tea and looking at pretty things and sitting down and eating scones with clotted cream and having conversations with your bosom friends. That's the only kind of party I ever want to have or ever want to go to.

Why am I 97 years old? I had several moments last night where I remembered the last time I lived in a house with a bunch of women and had parties all the time. That was 5 years ago. I think I've died and been reincarnated into my exact same life. That is punishment enough. Thanks be to God that I'm graduating in the Spring. I'll be 25 then. That ought to mean something, right? I need something to change.
I need life to be more than rolling up gummy worms in rice crispies treats before a party. More than making sure guests have places to sit and anxiously awaiting any lulls in conversation. More than painting my roommate blue and trying to make sure we stash all the last-minute piles of homework and books underneath the furniture. More than wrapping up all the extra pies at the end of the night and not getting to bed before 1:30 am.
My favorite part of the whole night was after everything was cleaned up and everyone had gone to bed and all the lights were off. I went into the living room and sat down in one of those big, round Ikea chairs. It was the best moment of my entire week.

If it were within my power to join a convent, I'd do it now.

Trinkets make me feel loved.

I feel SO loved today. Why? Because I'm eating spaghetti and chocolate layer cake for lunch made by my roommate Kaitlin; because I'm wearing earrings and bangles from my friend Katelyn in India; because I will eat Jamaican food for dinner tonight sent from my home by my mama; because I have rainbow ribbon ballet flats that used to belong to my friend Emily; because I have pretty pink Gerber daisies on the coffee table beside me from my roommate Melissa; because I'm using for a bookmark a postcard from my friend Amber in New Mexico; because I hugged a lot of Kindergartners today. I love stuff. Judge me if you need to. I love having pretty things around me that remind me of the dear ones far away. And, let me tell you, 98% of all the dear ones there are, are far away. It's the saddest thing. But it makes me feel better to drink from the little white teapot that served as a centerpiece at my friend Jenn's wedding in Idaho; or to wear the cameo that was my bridesmaid gift from Bethany who's living in Istanbul. I am not denying my materialism. I should probably sell all I have and give it to the poor and seek treasure in heaven. But, the point is, that being surrounded by aesthetically pleasing, visual reminders of friendship is really important to me.

That's why I've got so much stuff. That's why when I'm homesick for a place it's the trees I miss most. It's raining today.

In the Spider's Web

Today I'd like to talk about networking. I'd like to talk about how networking is the number one piece of advice professors give on how to be successful for the rest of your life. I'd like to talk about how much I hate networking. I'd like to talk about how evil it is to use people.

Is there anything more to say? I'd like someone to explain to me how we all even manage to get away with networking when everyone knows what we're up to. Why don't I just start walking up to people and say, "Hi. I'm Ayodele. No, no Eye-O-Del-Ly. No, Eye-O-Del-Ly. Yes, sure you've got it. I'm only talking to you because I want to be able to use our shallow relationship to get ahead in life. Yes, this means even getting ahead of you. No, I don't love you and I think you're wearing an ugly shirt. I find your laugh pretentious, but hey, networking makes the world go 'round".

Yes, this is what I'll start to do. Instead of going out of my way to avoid awkward small talk, and no one goes to greater lengths than I to avoid awkward small talk, I will now try to find moments to network. I will throw myself into a lifestyle I've painstakingly tried to avoid for the past 24 1/2 years. I will smile that fake smile. I will laugh at jokes that aren't funny. I will remember people's names. I will say things like, "Let's get coffee!" I will catch others in my spider's web. . .and I will suck them dry.

Charlotte A. Cavatica has plenty to say about networking. I will follow her approach.

First I dive at him. Next I wrap him up. Now I knock him out, so he'll be more comfortable.... flies, bugs, grasshoppers, choice beetles, moths, butterflies, tasty cockroaches, gnats, midgets, daddy long legs, centipedes, mosquitoes, crickets - anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web.

Luckily for Charlotte, she doesn't have very discriminating tastes. She'll take everything that comes her way. She makes the most of her opportunities and connections. But wait, isn't this wicked? Let's tell the truth. I'm not so much protesting the wickedness of networking. I'm protesting that I apparently have to start doing something contrary to my nature; and the reality that this painfully prosaic way of life will not in fact make me more virtuous, but less so. WHY? Why has society been designed to bolster the personalities of Type-A Extroverts? Doesn't anyone care about all the vinegary, introverted types like myself who just want to mind their own business and only speak when they have something worth saying?

But I protest. It is wicked to network. This is not the Kingdom paradigm I am working towards. Though my evil may be in failing to show love for enough people, pretending to care about people I'd rather never speak to is not the means of atonement for my own sins.

Thus, there are two choices before me. I can either keep taking the road less traveled to avoid saying hi to that girl in my class, or I can somehow draw deep from the well of God's love and find that the girl in my class is interesting--and precious to me because she is precious to God. Later, when I need her Uncle the V.P. of SOMEWHERE IMPORTANT to write me a reference, I'll be able to make such a request while still keeping my soul.

I should still like to be sedated while I do this. Or maybe I need happy pills. If only I could network with Charlotte A. Cavatica. Because, as she says

I always give them a little anesthetic so they won't feel pain. It's a little service I throw in.

.I want much more than this provincial life.

Autumn's Waif

Update.

My life is the same. As you may have already noticed, this is a post for the post's sake. The last month has been full of back to school things, 7 new roommates, a new house, grad school plans, a new job, and of course the loveliest weather change of the year. Today I am wearing a sundress, cardigan, and tights. Because the sky is that tranquil grey-blue---the kind that makes me want to listen to jazz and drink chai green tea and cuddle and eat squash and bake pies. I love fall. What am I thinking about just now? I wish I knew. I've been feeling so overwhelmed lately, life is really full this year, and I don't like fullness. I do college by living like a desert hermit, and so having things like a house and roommates who are kindred spirits transforms all of my academic fervor into more of a feverish hallucination. Right now, I'm mostly just tired of having to study things I don't care about. I don't want to read Cicero, and think about rhetoric. I want to write a play, and bake a pie, and wear cute sweaters and crazy tights and tramp about in wellingtons and mind my own business and step on crimson leaves and be glad. Just that deep, simple merriment that comes from the comforts of the material world in the year's grey-beard time. I want to take communion from a golden chalice at an Anglican church, I want to turn into the spirit of autumn, and participate in a glorious Bacchic frenzy.

Oh, to be the spirit of an autumn wind!

I want to read poetry, and write poetry, and hear poetry, and snap my fingers. I want to waltz across my wooden floor. I want to paint with gold and red and blue! Fall is full of surprises and secrets. Perhaps because Christmas is at the end of it. Autumn, the season of promise--what a fullness of life is fall! Fall is not the decay and corruption of old age, it is the maturity, the fullness of a life well lived. It is a red rose fully bloomed, just before the petals start to wilt. And if death is what comes after, then death itself is a beautiful gift, because it's all wrapped up in a smoky, cloudy haze of awful mystery, and I love it.

Everything is richer now; truer, bolder. Not happy, but joyful. Not pretty, but beautiful. Not well brought up, but well preserved. Regal. Mature. Real.

How full is fall!

Matrimonial Theft & Pinwheels

I went to a wedding today that was pinwheel themed. Have I mentioned that I LOVE pinwheels? Could there be anything more whimsical than a pinwheel? I don't think so. They even had pinwheel-shaped cookies. The favors were pencils with pinwheels stuck onto the erasers. Also, I stole one of the larger pinwheel decorations that was stuck in the ground outside the reception. I'm always tempted to steal wedding decorations. This must stop.I don't have space for them and I don't need them. But I like wedding decorations SO much. Maybe I should devote more of my life to arts and crafts. Maybe instead I will just keep going to work and class and chapel and doing my homework. Let's tell the truth.

Lifting wedding decorations. . .not so apropos.

This really can't be what I had in mind. . .

I'd sworn off blogging, for ever and ever. So much for constancy.