Fine. I'll give you a freaking personal one.

So my 40 pages are due tomorrow, and I am very happy to say that (at this moment), 29 are completly finished and fully edited.... I'm just trying to figure out how to end the thing. See, through this whole memoir process, I was kind of freaked out about the page length... what story could I tell for that long? Now that I've worked it to death, I've realized that I have a lot more than 40 pages (trust me, I look through at least 20 additional pages that I don't want to throw away every couple of hours). So maybe, juuust maybe, this is just some sort of beginning to something bigger. Maybe I'll work on completing it after this class ends... who knows?

I need to finish that guy up, like right now, but I've been planning on posting this story all week: it's pretty light-hearted, but it is something more personal than I'd ever consider blogging about.

So here it is. How I met my first best friend at UMass. . . (anyone else been on nostalgia overload lately? I'm not fully there, but I can feel it coming... hfhflsfjsl).


I remember sitting in my Intro to Logic class (I thought Philosophy 110 would involve discussion not formulas). I am looking particularly cute this day because I had no classes prior to one o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This gave me time to sleep in, take a shower, and eat lunch. Life was good on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I sat in the 100-seat lecture room, always at least ten minutes early because being late for anything drives me insane. A guy sat down next to me, and I felt that he had to talk to me. I just knew. But, he wouldn’t even look at me! For an hour and fifteen minutes, we sat next to each other, not listening to the same lecture, and he couldn’t even give me a smile.


I walked into my next class, Intro to Personal Communication (possibly taught by the lamest professor in the world). I am sitting next to my new friend, Derek, when he walks in! The guy from my Logic class!


I tap Derek, “You see that kid right there?”


Derek looks at the kid walking across a row of the 400-seat lecture hall. “Yeah.” He seems uninterested.


“Well I hate him!”


This perks him up a bit. “Really?”


Not even a why? Just a really? I explain to him that I sat next to him, no, that he sat next to me in the class before this one, and he didn’t even look at me! Derek laughs, but I stay half-serious before falling into a class coma.


Two days later, Thursday, that kid sits next to me again! Ten minutes before class. I’m not looking too bad today either. Ten minutes before class I ask him: “So are you going to at least talk to me today?” His genuine shock is something I’ll never forget.


“Oh, uh, yeah…” he says.


Our conversation stayed on the surface: names, hometowns, dormitories (he actually lived in the same area as I). Dan and I became great friends during our first semester freshman year, and he is still one of my bests at the university four years later. We tell the story because it makes us giggle; our lives would have been drastically different if it wasn’t for that day (especially considering we shared a room for a semester). But it is only now that I question myself: where did I get that confidence? How was I so ballsy to think that this stranger needed to talk to me? Intuition? ESP?

Response to Brett's Comment (see last blog)

Dear Brett,

I'm sure you're friend had more than 1 weekend to write 100 pages about facts.... facts that he or she probably should have been researching for a while...

I'm not bitching, but for me, it's way harder to write 40 decent pages about myself and a topic like race than it would be to write a science thesis where you just write and interpret the facts.

There's nothing really creative about a science thesis-- I'm sure you're friend isn't worried about the fact that people are going to be knowing all about her and her life... no one exposes their secrets in a science thesis. When your friend's paper gets published... his or her feelings are going to be slightly different than mine.

So thanks for your comment, but you just don't get it.

Love,

Kristi

ps- how's that for blog drama?? :)
pps- that's what you get for not asking me to your formal, jerk.

The Kind of Person I Am

So I've been having a hard time being inspired to blog. Earlier in the semester, it was just a lot easier to fall into this "Ludakristi"/That's What She Said persona... but now that I am actually working on important things (haha no offense Bloggers), I don't have time for me. And my Snoop Bloggie Blogg.

I am sending out my Costa Rica application tomorrow. Everything is all set. I don't know what else to say about it.

I have 11/40 pages of my memoir... which is due in a week... so that's what I've been really working on. I'm trying to complete the 2 and a half pages I am going to be reading at Food For Thought on Thursday evening, but I usually just stare at them for a long time. I need to get those done today/night. Because I need to practice them tomorrow. And I need to blow everyone away on Thursday. I don't know how it's going to go, and I've never done a reading like this.

In blog class, I always say how my blog is personal, so a lot of questions that come up about the Blogosphere apply to me in different ways. But, the truth is, my blog isn't personal at all. I started writing for an audience as soon as a girl asked about "the Wink guy." I pull away from my blog by posting about cooking things and singing karaoke.

The stuff I am writing about for my memoir class... that's personal. That's going to be public, and that scares me. The Blogosphere means nothing to me compared to the manuscript I will have produced in a week. Once it's done, it's going to be accessible to family, friends, and strangers. Kind of like my blog. Rarrrhkjdfhlsd.... stressed.

Anyway. I brought my old journal to campus today because I am trying to get inspired to write 29 more pages worth of stories about me. I started the journal in 6th grade, and I was trying to write at least a little everyday, so the first entries are all like, "Today I ate spagetti. It was good. I like Titanic. It's an awesome movie." But then it gets into the boy crazy stage of my life, I guess. And there's some stuff in there that's worth expanding upon. All I can see now, however, is how much I censored myself... to myself. And I don't think I was just being cryptic in case someone started reading it. I can remember the feelings that accompanied certain events, but I just chose not to share them. Only towards the end is there any reflection... but I still think I censored myself a lot... and I have to question why. I don't know if I'll ever write in a journal again. It's scary now.

This post is full of "I don't knows" but whatever. I don't know why I am rambling in my blog instead of working on my memoir. But as I was reading my journal today, I came across a bunch of entries about the loves of my middle school life (who are kids I am all friends with to this day)... so I started sending out confessional text messages:

I'm reading my old journal and apparently I put frosting all over your face at my 13th birthday party. . . sorry for that but you should know that I thought you were SOOOO HOTT hahaha
CB: 508-___-____

To: Josh Connor
Sent: May 1, 11:36 am

Dave. I am reading my old journal and on November 4, 1998 I was totally in love with you. . . just thought that you should know. ;)*
CB: 508-___-____

To: Davisboy
Sent: May 1, 11:42 am

* I sent a similar text to Corey, but the date was September 30, 1999.

I'm reading my old journal and sending text messages with specific dates to let the boys know when I was in love with them. I got a couple I could things I could send you tooo!
CB: 508-___-____

To: Lo
Sent: May 1, 12:05 pm

Well on April 8th, 2000 I ended an entry with: Lolo and I are incredibley good friends now. It's creepy-- we know what the other one is saying without having to say it. (Lolo just called, how creepy is that?)
CB: 508-___-____

To: Lo
Sent: May 1, 12:10 pm

There's a few more good ones, and the responses are even better. But I don't want to blog anymore. Sorry Bloggie.