A LONG TIME AGO

Another year. Classes begin. There are two new buildings, no blackboards, no chairs. It's that time of year when depression really kicks in. Daily affairs only help.

As usual, when I decide to do something, when it begins, I start questioning it.

Just how could I convey the sense of melancholy and ennui?

EVEN HEROES HAVE THE RIGHT TO BLEED

SUMMER FUN (festival time)

A 'JENNY' NOT A 'SHANE'

(only for those who already know ... know too much)

Isn't it sad how we always think that we are sooo special and different and meaningful despite all the evidence? No matter how many people we meet that are just like us, we still believe that there is some core of uniqueness that no one else has and that will redeem us, that would make Earth a darker place without us. And maybe it is true that there are not two identical individuals, but it is also true that there is no one who is genuinely unique - everyone shares his or her qualities with other people in some degree.

And me ... how ironic. It's the malady of the 'special' people. Not only we are too much in love with ourselves, fascinated with our every movement, but also we don't really know anything outside our own reality - so in the end, if you are an artist, you get stuck into portraying (writing about) artists ... what else? And those who do not know us, feel fascinated because they believe that we are phenomenal creatures (which WE ARE NOT --- we are evil and mean, and will go at your heart at the first opportunity, don't doubt about it) ... so they too include artists in their narratives...

So ... no uniqueness. Jenny ... a fictional character ... but, excluding the fact that she is Jewish, she is me. Someone invented her. Why? Is my life attractive? What kind of person would want to create someone like me? I don't understand ... Am I a commercial product now? Should I commercialize my pain and my doubts and my questions now? Should I try an emotional striptease? Could I get rich out of my nightmares? Is the key giving in to my sickness and to my impulses?

I do not understand why they create characters like Jenny... or maybe I do... but why... why does she have to be exactly like me. Why is it always the promising young writer who goes under, wants and tries to die, finishes a looong relationship and has her heart broken a couple of times, is a failure in every aspect, has no real friends, realizes something that changes her whole life (like being gay) and is unable to function or just ... be. Fuck it. I hate being Jenny.

ONLY HERE FOR THE MUSIC

And these are my sorry plans for the long long summer ... At least I'll get to watch many of my favourite bands. Does anyone feel like coming with me?

SOME REASONS TO MISS SOUTH HADLEY

MUST ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END?

Back in Spain. Sleeping most of the time. Trying to get rid of all the stuff in my room. Missing Mt. Holyoke miserably. And everyone there. Maybe at last I have found the place where I really want to be. I know it's not real. I know it's a utopian bubble built for people like me, very very liberal women, but is it wrong that I love it? A place where people understand my points of view and are as passionate as I am about them. And the sense of community, of sisterhood, of acceptance. And of course beauty and nature all around. No real pollution, no real noise.

They did say that as an alumna I have more possibilities of being hired as a professor in the future...

(my future car)

(the Foreign Fellows ... aka F***ing Foreigners ... at the Laurel Parade)

(at the Laurel Parade, the seniors throwing the laurel in Mary Lyon's grave)

(we had some bagpipes at the Parade)

(Emma and me looking very sleepy and zombi-esque for graduation)

(a wonderful professor at MHC who is also a lawyer and managed to free some prisoners from Guantanamo)

(the class of 07 at Graduation)

ROCK ON '07

Oh yes... at last, after 5 loooooooong years, I am graduating!!!!! and I am graduating the American way, with the silly hat, and all those strange ceremonies and lots of champagne. Until the big day comes, the parties follow one another and all the senior are scared to death (like myself) because we have to face reality.
At least, we are the crazy-creative bunch of seniors, and our parties are the best. Each one with a different theme, a different adventure.
The last day of the year are the best. Suddenly things happen. And you just can't go. How can you go? Why? Where? They tell us that now we have to think about ourselves as professionals instead of students. Professionals. Riiiiiiiiiight. So I am a professional ... what?
I really love this place. My insides cringe... but the fact is, that of all the places where I have been, this is the one I've liked the most, and I do think my future is here, in USA.