Brevity is the Soul of Lingerie

Fall has come, and it's gorgeous. The leaves are gold and auburn, and soon there will be clusters of red burning bright against the skies. I just love it. Do you know that feeling of total and utter comfort you feel in the autumn? When you're warm in a cuddly sweater, the air is cool and bringing out roses in your cheeks, and everything you do feels crisp and energetic...these are rare moments for me, particularly as I'm incredibly clumsy and tend to trip over my own feet. But I am starting to find that great smell of well-worn sweatshirts and fresh-cut grass, which, in combination, are rather intoxicating. I don't know what it is. I love the speed and electricity of a student rushing past me on a bike, or of seeing some girl's hair loosen itself from her face and fly in the wind. Sometimes everything feels charged with a bright and beautiful charm of its own. I have my moment of peace...and then I stumble over a stray twig and get hit by a jogger and go home in shame. :)

My room here feels a bit nicer since I put up an enormous Indian tapestry. It isn't all that extraordinary, but I love it; it consumes an entire wall and has an intricate flower and leaf pattern that interweaves infinitely across a cream ground. Then there are these little blue elephants trundling along in a circle, and more geometric figures. I've always been a sucker for symmetry -- and in certain cases, a carefully orchestrated asymmetry. The elephants remind me of that scene in The Jungle Book when you meet Colonel Hathi and his herd. I so wanted to be the baby elephant with his frantically high-pitched voice. I think I've always cherished this desire to be everything I'm not: petite and graceful. Not that one could say an elephant is epitome of grace, but, well, he was terribly terribly cute. As the tallest in my class for a long time, I never felt like anyone was interested in pinching my cheeks. And though I don't actually like having my cheeks pinched, it would have been nice to be a cherubic child. Plus I never had a squeaky voice, just my usual alto drone.

I went to another symposium on Sunday, hosted by the Princeton University Art Museum. It was pretty good, though some of the speakers prosed on for way too long. There was one old grandpa who yawned his way through what felt like the entire trajectory of 19th century art. I often talk too much, but really! At least I've never held over 60 people captive in a room.

I did feel a bit low on Sunday evening. I missed college and my friends, and felt afresh all the dislocation of being in a new place with limited acquaintances. I don't want to push new friendships too far just because I dislike solitude. And I made a lot of mistakes over the past few weeks in that regard. It's difficult to figure out new relationships. How do they play out and how do they change with every interaction? I feel like I've forgotten the logistics of moving beyond initial rapports. These days I vacillate between loving and despising my own presence. It's funny how you manage to confuse yourself while trying to make the right choices.