everytime I think about back home...

I am all over the place today.
woke up, and it was way too damn hot in here, despite the fact that I fell asleep fine under a sheet and a comforter.
it was also 5:55 AM, because some accursed fucking thing was beeping endlessly. I suspect it belongs to one of my roommates, but I forgot to interrogate her about it. later.
the fourth time I woke up it was 11 and then I decided to go get dressed, etc.

there's some sort of hurricane remnant blowing around town, so my shoes and socks got completely soaked on the way to pick up my books at Barnes and Noble, but that was fine. I just needed to be by myself. I needed to walk and listen to music and not have to talk to anyone. if I could, I bet I would spend the next couple days just walking or taking the T around town with my iPod.

I bought Wonder Boys (because I totally need to miss Pittsburgh more right now). read it while waiting for my laundry. fucking love it already and I'm only about 40 pages in. I think that was the happiest I've been all day, just sitting there going "GAH MICHAEL CHABON WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE."

so, yeah. all four roommates are here. it's raining. there's a nice breeze coming in the window, though, and for some reason it's making me feel like I'm going to cry. oh, emotionality. I'm not sure when I started using this blog this much, but, here it is. I'm far, far from home and I don't know where else I can talk about it.

"here we are in the center of the first world
it's laid out before us, who are we to break down?"

what a week.
I live in Boston now. this is where I live. in a place where every other person I pass on the street is wearing a Red Sox shirt. (seriously, this town is sports crazy, I think even more so than Pittsburgh because there are a) more people and b) more teams.)
twelve hours from anybody I feel comfortable around. it's sinking in now, sort of, that a) I am not an outgoing person and therefore b) the process of making all new friends and not being a total hermit (which I would probably be inclined to do if nobody stopped me) is going to be kind of exhausting. but worth it, right? worth it, after a month or a semester or two.

I met some good people this week.
refreshing and, again, exhausting all at once. I really am an introvert in the sense of the word in which it was used on that personality test we took in Euro; I like being around people, but eventually it tires me out and I have to have some time by myself to regroup.

today I hung out with this kid from Springfield, MA who eats/sleeps/breathes basketball. I told him I used to be that way. I miss basketball, sometimes - not playing on the school team, because that sucked, but just the game, because I love the mythology and the history and the aura of baseball, but when it comes down to it, if it's not hockey season I want to be on the basketball court. I could write a whole entry about that, but I guess I won't now.
anyway, he was an interesting kid. we had fun today even though we were sort of ineffective as coaches/counselors. we talked about the Beatles. the Beatles came up in conversation a lot in the last 24 hours, actually.

I spent a couple days being somewhat in love with this other kid; as soon as that passed, we actually started talking a little. good times. I really hope the way I relate to people in college can be at least slightly different than the way I did in high school. as in, I can actually TALK to people when I know we like all the same bands. wish me luck.

the highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last-chance power drive

just had my last drive through Latrobe, probably my last drive anywhere for a long time (GOD I AM GOING TO MISS MY CAR. Rain [that's his name] is one of my favorite things in the world, but all he would do in Boston is accumulate massive parking fees for me). I've developed this pastime of getting lost on purpose and seeing where I end up; today I found myself driving through cornfields out near Eric's. and since it's pretty nice out it was pretty fucking beautiful for Latrobe, PA.

I was pretty lost for a while, but when I finally came out onto a road I knew, "New York, New York" by Ryan Adams blasting, sun shining...made me happy to be alive.

48 hours needs 48 thrills

I leave Saturday for school. Saturday, three days from now. I remember going to see Star Trek the day after graduation, driving around with the windows down with everyone and dancing in the parking lot and trying to absorb the fact that it was summer, FINALLY, after the longest school year of my life. (it still hasn't really sunk in that it's summer. I think I'm whiter than I was in May.)

I feel like I should have done more. nearly every day this summer I wanted to get on Route 30 and just drive west. if you drive west on Route 30, you get to Oregon eventually. and I miss the West Coast like hell. on a somewhat smaller scale, I wanted to stay out all night somewhere, just accidentally end up spending the night at somebody else's house (not necessarily in the way that sounds, haha, just hanging out so late that it ends up being morning by the time you go home.) there were a lot of things I always sort of assumed would happen the summer after my senior year. a lot of them didn't. such is life.

and here I am, watching VH1 Classic's Greatest Songs of the 80s. last night I watched Anderson Cooper till midnight (this is an integral part of summer for me. I love that goofy little white-haired man). it does not feel like anything life-altering is going to transpire this weekend. but it is. I just saw the "Holiday" video, and I still love Billie Joe Armstrong as much as I did in 2005 when it came out. I guess I feel like I'm older than I was then, but not by much.

a mouse named Lady Gaga (of which I am the mother/co-owner)...an encounter with Cara Marrero at Barnes and Noble...a Ting Tings cover band called the Bling Blings...all in the space of a couple hours. I love my friends. this next week is going to be amazing. it had better be, anyway.

in other news, my brother is the new drummer of the Army of Cranes, and anybody who takes issue with this can see me personally. at which point I will destroy them. thanks, have a nice day!

still the bells of saint mary's were ringing.

"from the convent to the rectory and over in the sacristy,
I'm a goddamn travesty and that's just my luck"

this may be [at least a small part of] why I love the Dropkick Murphys so much right now. I fail at being Catholic. but then again, being Catholic is kind of about failing at being Catholic. (and then feeling guilty about it.) it's a fulfilling faith, this one.

I like to believe in God. sometimes this makes sense to me, sometimes it doesn't. sometimes thinking so much about eternal life somewhere on a cloud just irritates me, because it makes me feel like I shouldn't love the life I already have. and I do love the life I have. it's not a coincidence that some (not all, but some) of my darkest days this year were also my most God-fearing.

that's not fair, though. there was a day in January this year that I don't know if I'd have survived if I hadn't gone to St. Benedict Church. some days, you need something to believe, when everything else has given out on you.

now, though. I believe in my life (after all, it's the one thing that will last...my entire life. ;P this sounds retarded but actually means something to me) and the things that comprise it. when I try to write about it, it starts to make less sense, which is why I don't write about it much. but I believe in love and music and family and friends and hockey. I've had more "religious experiences" in hockey rinks than churches, to be quite honest.

I think this is also why I like A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man so much - James Joyce can be a bit dense to read, yeah, but the crux of the whole book is Stephen deciding between being an artist and being a Catholic (or a Christian at all). for him, his art is religion, and he can no more be a Catholic and an artist than he could be a Catholic and a Muslim. and I actually enjoyed writing a six-page research paper about this. (okay, it's possible I'm just a giant nerd.) but I remember telling my best friend years ago that as Hendrix once said, music virtually is religion for me. I'm a completely different person now than I was then, but maybe that hasn't changed. I'm not sure if I'd say it has or it hasn't.

maybe it's just an Irish thing. I'm Irish, so is James Joyce, so is Ken Casey. maybe we're just doomed to bicker back and forth with the Pope till the day we die.