Thursday, September 23, 2004

Bee stings and Bad vibes

I was stung by a bee today. At least, I think it was a bee- it may have been a hornet, wasp, or yellow jacket; all I know is it hurt. Who's on the lookout for bees in the sleeve of their bathrobe? Now I'm scared to ever put on my robe again, and mornings are cold here in Massachusetts.

My Painting teacher at Amherst won't speak to me. This has been going on since the beginning of classes and frankly I'm getting a little annoyed. He won't say hello to me when I say hello to him; he raises his eyebrows and purses his lips- you know the face I mean. When we're painting he walks around and looks at our work and makes comments, but he never talks to me. You know I exaggerate- Emily's paradox: everything I say is hyperbolic- but I am not exaggerating now. He occasionally looks at my paintings; sometimes he'll even address a comment to the class that's obviously about me, but he refuses to speak directly to me and as a result I dislike him. I should be fair- I tend to dislike virtually all art teachers because they are not Allen Bentley- I'm spoiled for all other art teachers forever, which is okay by me since I get quite a bit of mileage out of the instruction I received from Allen. But I personally dislike my Amherst painting teacher, and that's different. I can't imagine what I could have done to make him behave this way: I always smile and say hello; my paintings are neither very good nor very bad: I'm a high average. I have decided not to let him get away with ignoring me: from now on I will simply ask him questions whenever he gets within ten feet of me. That ought to do the trick.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Mountain Day!

Once a year, the president of Smith College wakes up in her elegant house and says to herself, "Today is too beautiful for classes. I shall let the students have a holiday." And all the bells ring and the students go running through their houses yelling "Mountain Day! Mountain Day!" and banging on the doors. Then everybody turns her alarm off and goes back to sleep.
Today was my second Mountain Day, and my best so far. I had planned to spend it with Jeana and Nina, but Jeana cancelled so I called Nina myself. She's so silly- she'd made plans to go to a movie at 11:30, but we took a little walk. (She's actually coming by later tonight for popcorn and tea, so that's all right.) When Nina went home, I headed back to Washburn, where I found about half the house standing around in the living room preparing to go have a picnic by Paradise Pond, so I joined them. I walked with Kate and Kep and Emily Littman, who uses a wheelchair. It took all three of us to manouvre her down the hill to the boathouse, but we made it. We sat in the shade and watched the herons and discussed neurology. (The thing I like most about Kate and Kep is the thing that many people can't stand about them: they have a lot to say on literally any topic you can think of. For a quiet person like me, such talkative people are delightful because they just talk and talk and I don't have to.)
When we had finished our lunches, we went back up the hill (surprisingly easily, although it was still a full team effort) and walked about a bit by the pond. We saw the PoetTree, which is a huge tree stump with words pinned to it, like magnetic poetry. It's been there awhile and many of the words have faded beyond recognition, but it is still a delightful idea.
By and by, we went back to the house. We split up and I went to get my bike and helmet. I was determined to find a bike path, and I did, after only a moderate amount of scary road biking. The bike path was cool and shady and surrounded by trees. It was very busy, but not crowded. I rode it to the end and then all the way back to the opposite end- almost two hours of solid biking. Then I rode back along Elm to the part that joins the path along Paradise Pond and I bumpily rode back along the pond. I found a rather quiet spot- the river was busy today, full of boats- and took off my shoes and socks. I had always, always wanted to swim in the river. And now I have.
It was cold, cold, so cold it made me gasp, but oh, it was wonderful. In some places it was actually over my head, which surprised me. I dog paddled and backstroked for a long time before I got cold, and then I squelchily mounted my bike and rode home. (I'd swum in all my clothes- baggy khaki shorts and a tank top.)
At home, I took a shower and then lay in a sunny patch of the roof (next to my wet clothes) with some animal crackers and read. Later on we had a picnic dinner on the lawn outside of Tyler.

"They were all feeling pretty tired by now of course, but not wretchedly tired- just sort of dreamy and quiet inside as one feels after a long day out in the open."
~C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian