|Posted by Lucille on September 1, 2011 at 9:30 PM||comments (0)|
My mom, in her eternal awesomeness, sent me a package with all the things I forgot. It was on the table when I got home from school and everyone sitting nearby said, "Aww, that's so sweet! Your mom is awesome. I miss getting stuff from home."
Thank you, Mom!
|Posted by Lucille on September 1, 2011 at 9:20 PM||comments (0)|
Okay, so I'm considering joining a sorority. Wait- before you say anything (or make faces at the computer) let me explain. I am taking three classes this term. French is interactive, but almost everyone else is a graduate student, so I hardly ever see them outside of class. Chem and EEP are lectures. And as nice as everyone is in the house I'm staying in, they're not freshmen they all already have their own circles of friends, so it's not comparable to a first year experience in the dorms. I've opted out of a lot of the ways that freshmen usually meet people, and since I'm not the best at making new friends to begin with, I feel like I need a little help. A sorority would be a way to spend social time on a regular basis with the same group of people, bursting the isolation bubble.
I was dead set against being involved in greek life in any way (because it's known for partying and social drama, neither of which interests me), and then I went to an ice cream social where the Gamma Rho Lambda sorority was tabling and ended up talking with the women running it, and they were so friendly and welcoming that in two minutes they changed my mind from 'no way in-" to seriously considering it. I'm still feeling cautious. Luckily, there's this thing called rush (who knew?) where you hang out with them for a week before deciding. I'll let you all know how it goes.
|Posted by Lucille on September 1, 2011 at 9:15 PM||comments (0)|
Chem is in a lecture hall. It's a huge class, close to three hundred people, but our teacher is great. After an engaging power point, he said he likes to end class with a bang, and lit a hydrogen balloon on fire, making the screen shake. Yep, that's definitely the way to do it.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 3:35 AM||comments (0)|
I went to my first yoga class at the studio next to campus. I was lucky because I got in a class with a lot of new students, so the teacher slowed down and focused on basics for a while. I didn't really feel like I was working because it didn't include the cardio I'm used to, but when we left afterwards I was more sore than I can remember being in a very long time. It kind of sneaks up on you, but yoga is hard work!
I really liked the feeling of the class. It's a beautiful space, with soft music playing, and I felt peaceful and connected with the people around me. At some point, we took a minute in child's pose to relax, and I started crying (this actually not something I do a lot). I was shocked. I felt fine, wonderful in fact, and there I was, tears falling onto the mat in front of me. The teacher touched my shoulder to ask if I was okay. "Yeah, I'm fine, I..." I didn't even know what to say. I couldn't explain the tears streaming down my face. I could feel it in my whole body, but it wasn't the wrenching sensations I knew from trying not to cry, it was a serene, connected wave, a gentle flowing. I felt relief. It was a wonderful cry, the kind that is spiritually healing.
"Don't worry, it happens," she said with a ready ease that told me she's seen this before. "Take your time."
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 3:30 AM||comments (0)|
During the day I am calm, alert, and go about my business. At night, in the stillness just before I fall asleep, I feel like I'm going to burst. It starts with homesickness, then fear about the changes in my life, excitement about the changes in my life, and then these lead to memories and other stories and so many emotions: irrational joy, grief, love, terror, so much that I cannot possibly express, rolling through my still body until I feel like I'm going to explode, and I worry that when I do it will wake my roommate, sleeping across from me. And then the numbness, the emotional fog rolls in, and I feel nothing, and fall asleep.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 3:25 AM||comments (0)|
The BSFC is a little shop directly in front of campus that sells local, organic foods, with friendly staff that are passionate about the Real Food movement. I signed up to volunteer on Mondays. For my first shift, I cleaned out the back room, swept, and ran up to the bank in my very official looking apron to get change. There's a membership meeting Wednesday (including such cool events as a night hike and sandwich making) but unfortunately it's during my chem lab, so I will add more information about the group later as I learn.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 2:55 AM||comments (0)|
I'm trying to hang on to my momentum in trying new foods.
I'm so grateful for the community I have back home for recognizing these steps forward as significant, something I have hoped for my whole life and doubted would ever happen. I don't know why I can suddenly (in baby steps) try new foods. People have joked that I should have gone to Africa ten years ago, and although that's possibly true, I want to be clear that this started before I left. I don't know what triggered it, I guess the time was just right.
I can remember clearly as a child trying to describe the texture of lettuce, trying to come to terms with knowing that my reaction to it was irrational. I remember trying to explain, in tears, that it was like nails on a chalkboard--I didn't know why, I couldn't explain it, but it produced acute pain. I examined my response again and again, trying to see if it was psychosomatic, to change it, but I always stopped in tears. It hurt. I still don't know if it is just in my head, I have no proof to the contrary, but I know that if it is, it doesn't make it less real. I remember people not understanding, and knowing in my heart that there was something else going on. I am so grateful to my parents for empowering me to break through these challenges at my own pace. Some people humiliated me, and on occasion, tried to force feed me, or shame me into eating by telling me it was my own selfishness and I was going to die of a heart attack at forty. I remember promising myself that if I am so lucky as to one day have a normal diet, and if one day I develop any kind of health condition for the diet I had when I was young, I will remember that I was not stubborn, or lazy, or selfish. There was something else going on.
And whatever it was, it is finally, miraculously, releasing its hold. I'm not going to miss my chance. For lunch, I've been making cheese, spinach, and turkey sandwiches, and no, I've never had spinache or turkey before in my life. Out of curiosity, I took one of the spinach leaves out and ate it alone, to isolate the texture. I knew again and with certainty that something powerful and uncontrollable affected my reaction to it. It sent shivers up my spine, gave me goosebumps, and made me nauseous, but there was not the acute pain I remembered from before. I took another bite of the sandwich. The mix of textures was enough to subdue that reaction. I had never imagined that I would enjoy the taste of meat, but it was very good, and I wished I'd bought more.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 2:25 AM||comments (0)|
The energy service corps is a group co-sponsored by CALPIRG and Americorps that does energy efficiency education and 'weatherizations' (going into a building and making it more energy efficient). I volunteered to go to their first weatherization of the year, at the Kappa Alpha fraternity house, and I got to run around climbing book cases with a caulking gun. So much fun. I hope they hold another one soon. Plus, the representative from the fraternity is in my EEP discussion class and shares my major. I hope they have another weatherization soon.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 2:20 AM||comments (0)|
I went to an Amnesty International screening. I really liked the group of people that were there, and I even liked the video, though it was about the death penalty and included a lot of graphic descriptions of rape and death that made the walk home in the dark afterwards kind of scary. I could tell it was the kind of thing that would have really affected me before, but right now I just felt kind of detached. They passed around a petition for saving the life of some innocent person in the Midwest, and although it may sound heartless, I just couldn't get into it. I saw so many people in life or death situations and never learned their names; just the fact that I know about this guy in the Midwest is amazing. I care about the death penalty, but it just wasn't the right project or the right time for me to get passionate about it, so I'm going to keep looking around at other volunteer opportunities.
|Posted by Lucille on August 31, 2011 at 2:15 AM||comments (0)|
The teacher is amazing. He always comes into the lecture hall in hiking clothes and a sun hat like he's just been strolling through sunlit fields. I'd taken one economics class before, but my teacher was terrible (people would smoke weed in class and climb out the windows without him noticing) and the main thing I learned was that it's possible to fail an open book final. My teacher at Berkeley ran through everything I thought I'd learned in econ in the first 50 minute lecture, and this time it made sense. He's funny, too. I may change my mind by the time finals roll around, but for now I'm really looking forward to class.