It’s Wednesday and YOU KNOW what that means, don’t you? Nothing in particular, really. I just thought I’d ask if you knew about something that I didn’t.

thinking face.

Today I looked at the faces of my fellow grads and saw the following emotions: stress, panic, fml, delirium. So I came home and made brownies to take into the office tomorrow. (y’know cause that’s what I do.)

Anyway, that has nothing to do with birds, or flying, or anything even remotely related to birds. I’ll eventually get to that.

This week has been crazy busy, crazy stressful, and crazy crazy. Why? Because we’re at MID semester, can you believe I’m half way through one semester of grad school? That’s 1/8 of my graduate schooling for a Masters degree. And I haven’t broken anything, set anything on fire, OR failed any classes. Not too shabby!

Just today I was working on a research project about women’s bodies in dance, and so I was reading about the political female body. I learned that in the early ninties there was a “contraceptive implant” introduced to the market, and it was used as a sentencing tool to women found guilty of child abuse cases. So…um, a type of forced sterilization. Cool, America. Cool.

Anyway, so amidst this panicky state of crazy I’m still trying to have fun and explore this ridiculous city. Another grad suggested we go to “Birds,” which is apparently an oyster bar that has karaoke. Now, that’s right up my alley! But thinking about the name Birds makes me think of this song about birds shitting on your head and that just makes me laugh.

So imagine this. Me. Sitting in my grad cubicle laughing, alone. Cubicle-mate here definitely must think I’m nuts, cause he often walks in to the cubicle with me sitting on the desk/laughing hysterically/generally being weird. Anyway, back to birds. I was thinking about this song, and I listened to it a couple of times since I hadn’t heard it in a while, and it’s actually really weird. The guy arrives in town and the girl meets him at the train station and they get on the bus and he wants to express his feelings for her. This is what he says:

Birds can fly so high
and they can shit on your head,
yeah they can almost fly into your eye
and make you feel so scared,
but when you look at them,
and you see that they’re beautiful:
that’s how I feel about you.

Um, I’m beautiful at a distance but I could potentially shit on you. I’m going to go ahead and take that as a metaphorical thing, because then it can be  true. I know lots of people who have metaphorically shit on me and other people, and at a distance they seem great, and then that’s just not how the cookie crumbles.

crumbling cookie, get it? get it?

Needless to say, if I can get everything that needs to be done, done, I will definitely be up there singing tomorrow.

Maybe Birds.

Or, let’s be real, Celine, if they have it.

love, B

PS. I hope the grad school chat isn’t boring — I’m excited about everything going on here, so I want to sing about it!

Here’s a (albeit creepy) picture to make it all better.


(This is for my bebe who’s birthday is today,
you know who you are lady)

I’ve forgotten how to spell. (and other adventures)


I’ve forgotten how to spell because my computer/cell phone/mini me robot does it for me. I actually spent a solid three minutes contemplating the spelling of the world “aerial” while working on a presentation today.

It makes people really uncomfortable when they joke about me selling them my first born and I respond me, “I’m never having kids.” Awkward, B, awkward. When your boss asks you to sign a confidentiality waiver and jokes that it’s about selling your first born, don’t ever respond “I’m not having kids.” again. Thanks.

When I order textbooks on Amazon, I usually throw in an inexpensive book from my wish list so that there’s actual joy in my heart when I open that box from Amazon…instead of the sheer terror I feel. (This is the same terror that comes with being handed a semesters syllabus.)

There are a total of 3 human beings who have so far told me that they think my next tat idea is cool. (I haven’t told many people) Other responses have been, “I don’t get it.” and “Why?” followed by “No offense.” A classmate (in grad school, are we colleagues?) spent the better part of ten minutes before class convincing me to get a tat with him this weekend. I’ll keep you posted.

My bed is unmade and this blog entry is no where near complete. I definitely can’t start my homework yet.

While I was sitting at a traffic light with my windows rolled down today, I noticed that I was not sweating profoundly. Fall is coming.

I think that if you haven’t heard the Of Monsters and Men album, you should definitely listen to it. This is a personal opinion, because I’ve been listening to them non-stop and I’m really enjoying it. “Dirty Paws” is especially enjoyable.

I walked into the lab in the dance building today because the Macs have giant screens and it’s easier to open all the things if I use a huge monitor, and I was humming to myself. I didn’t realize that there was another person in there. She finally said hello after about two minutes of my humming.

According to this article, you should (not) date a writer. hmm. I don’t know what he’s getting at, but it’s probably true.

If I were an iPod cord, where would I be?

love, B



I have two wonderful roommates. One of my roommates likes to blog and after reading one of her entries about making happy lists, I decided to make a happylist of my own! I’ve been thinking a lot about, as she puts it, “shutting up and realizing that life is fabulous and there are plenty of reasons to be happy.” Even though I sometimes make it very difficult to order anything in a restaurant, and I happen to like some sense of order, this is going to be a fun little list of happyness.

There are my awesome roommates, by the way

1. Sitting on the floor, eating carrots, listening to matt nathanson, and folding laundry with my roommates.
2. Dancing across the dining hall to contact-improv with one of my dance girls in which we dance in each others negative space and end up on the floor.
3. A good cuppa tea (even when it can’t be my mom’s, Tazo Chai comes close), while teaching people Gujurati phrases
4. Reading T.S. Eliot poems out loud to my roommate while she strings paper cranes to hang up in our apartment.
5. Rolling down the windows and singing Defying Gravity over and over again while driving through the ghetto to get to wal-mart (even when I can’t find the harmony).
6. spending time with the cutest little baby I know. Especially when she grabs my nose and squeals out of excitement.
7., and the daily emails that remind me to spread love and joy in the world by first loving myself.
8. Crossing things off my to-do list. all day, errry day. It’s just so satisfying to scribble through “Read 120 pages in [such and such] book”
9. Getting packages in the mail unexpectedly, especially when they’re from my sister for DIWALI
10. My niece (the one who told me I should work at wal-mart after I get my masters <3)
11. pizza, in any capacity.
12. Cute, sleeping puppies!!!

That’s all for now folks, but I hope everyone is happily getting through midterms and all of those fun things.

Love, B



“Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone.”

– The Dhammapada


This week was the first week of my last fall semester of undergrad. WHAT?!?! The funny thing is, though, that it’s been a whirlwind of absolute joy. I’m starting a job that I absolutely love doing, I was offered an internship for credit toward my major, both senior projects I’m working on are absolutely. without doubt. exactly. what I want to do. I’m also figuring out who my friends really are, and what kind of bond has been formed over the last three years, going on a fourth, with some of the other beautiful, intellectual, women at my college. At times, I just can’t believe how lucky I am to have not only experienced the wonderful summer that I did, growing creatively and becoming so refreshed that I’m practically glowing (according to one of my professors), but to also feel so ready for my senior year. How many people give in to senioritis before the year only starts? I don’t want to do that. I want to have the most amazing year ever…and for me that doesn’t only involve spending time with my friends, it involves achieving and pushing myself farther.


Here’s to a wonderful year!


Love, B

an art.


Here’s a poem by Carl Phillips called “Civilization”. I’m pretty swamped in finals at the present moment so I thought I’d just bring in some words from other writers that I think are particularly powerful.


There’s an art
to everything. How
the rain means
April and an ongoingness like
that of song until at last

it ends. A centuries-old
set of silver handbells that
once an altar boy swung,
processing…You’re the same
wilderness you’ve always

been, slashing through briars,
the bracken
of your invasive
. So he said,
in a dream. But

the rest of it—all the rest—
was waking: more often
than not, to the next
extravagance. Two blackamoor
statues, each mirroring

the other, each hoisting
forever upward his burden of
hand-painted, carved-by-hand
peacock feathers. Don’t
you know it, don’t you know

I love you, he said. He was
shaking. He said:
I love you. There’s an art
to everything. What I’ve
done with this life,

what I’d meant not to do,
or would have meant, maybe, had I
understood, though I have
no regrets. Not the broken but
still-flowering dogwood. Not

the honey locust, either. Not even
the ghost walnut with its
non-branches whose
every shadow is memory,
memory…As he said to me

once, That’s all garbage
down the river, now
. Turning,
but as the utterly lost—
because addicted—do:
resigned all over again. It

only looked, it—
It must only look
like leaving. There’s an art
to everything. Even
turning away. How

eventually even hunger
can become a space
to live in. How they made
out of shamelessness something
beautiful, for as long as they could.