Salem State University Memories

My alma mater, Salem State University, had its graduation ceremony this past Saturday. My awesome friend Tony Black got his undergrad and my fabulous friend Casey Roland got her graduate degree (Casey runs Theater of Words and Music; Tony just kicks ass). I’m really proud of these awesome people for sticking with it and finishing school; Salem State does not make things easy. So here I recount some of my favorite Salem State memories, and I dedicate it to Tony Black and Casey, who are great all around.

This is Casey.

I started SSU when it was still SSC (college, not university) in 1999. I didn’t graduate until 2011. That’s like, 12 years of college. For an undergrad degree. My problem? I hated prerequisites. I am in college, why the hell do I have to take a phys ed? I’m a writing major, why the fuck do I have to take Biology? I just wanted to take my writing/ English classes and GTFO! I also left for several years to deal with life issues that included but were not limited to having a kid and weighing 70 lbs.

I also did copious amounts of drugs in college. And had copious amounts of sex. So my brain wasn’t exactly in the game, so to speak. Or the appropriate game.

Here is a picture of me in 1999 or 2000, in my first dorm room (Peabody Hall 611). Our mini fridge froze my Diet Cherry Coke and it exploded all over the room.

My freshman year was probably the best year for me, because I had a cool boyfriend, a rad roomie, and ran off to Canada for a weekend of debauchery. I didn’t necessarily have all my shit together, but it was a good year. I also decided that year to become an English major and write as much poetry as possible, so that was pretty cool.

Some of my favorite memories from that year are meeting everyone (I’m still friends with lots of them, and that’s sort of rare because sometimes I am not very likable); going to Montreal with Moose, our bus driver who almost killed us several times (not to mention the fact that we almost got arrested for having more drugs than were necessary for a two night trip, across borders); meeting all the Charlestown people that I eventually married into; having to Febreeze everything constantly because my boyfriend’s neighbor stunk to high heaven and no one wanted to tell him; stealing bread, ham and cheese to make grilled ham and cheeses in the dorms; and my first experience in downtown Salem on Halloween.

This was my dorm room for years 2 and 3– Peabody Hall 703.

My sophomore year of college was okay. I still had the same boyfriend, loved the Powerpuff Girls, and did a lot of drugs. I mean, a LOT. Way more than I let on. That’s okay, though. I met my awesome friend Jason that year and worked at a cool photo/video rental store that is no longer there. We ate at a Friendly’s that is no longer there. Stupid Vinnin Square. That year I also met
Mary Timony from the band Helium, and it was really amazing.

It is me and Mary Timony. I love her so much.

After that year, things got bad for me. I don’t want to talk about it, but it involves a lot of anorexia, abuse and self- loathing. There are no good memories from that year, except that I started hanging with friends I later dubbed the SSC Lunch Crew. Oh, and I went to my friend Phil’s prom.

Promming It, College Style

The next year I took a leave of absence. Then I started dating Aidan’s dad and things got real wacky for me for a long time. I did even more drugs, then I got pregnant, stopped doing drugs, had a kid, got really anorexic, got help… I really hit rock bottom and then rebuilt my life. When I finaly went back to school it was great because the aforementioned Jason was there as well as the even more aforementioned Tony Black.

Tony Black. Look at this suave motherfucker.

Jason and I met Tony Black in a little class called “Graphic Novel As Literature” or some nonsense. We called it Comic Book Class. The teacher was TERRIBLE. This guy has a doctorate apparently, but had no idea who I was when I showed up for the final. We watched 4 different Batman movies. He fell asleep a lot. Everyone in the class was a moron. One kid called Jason “Grumpy Green Sweater”, that’s how pissy he was. One kid came in with a comic shirt every day and discussed the finer points of the DC canon. We had a thing called RageMeter– it looked like a fundraising thermometer, and every time someone pissed us off we would color in another 10% of the meter. My brother averaged it out at the end of the year and we were ragey 88% of the time. That’s a lot.

I had a lot of good things come out of my educational career at Salem State. I worked on a Literary Mag called Soundings East. I found my calling as a writer. I met great people. I had a secret sleeping spot that no one has figured out yet. Once, a car got completely submerged in the O’Keefe parking lot (SSU is notorious for flooding). I got grants and scholarships because my poetry is pretty okay.

But the best thing, the best thing that ever happened at SSU– friends, I leave you with this– took place in an English class that I have since forgotten, but I do know my friend Jenna was there. We read a short story about slavery. Jenna and I hated anyone anyway and would give each- other the side eye all the time. But this was just great. A girl towards the back of the room raised her hand, and the teacher called on her.

“I have a question about slavery.”

Ok.

“Maybe this will sound dumb, and correct me if I’m wrong…”

Oh, no. Don’t do it, girl. Whatever it is, don’t say it.

“But is it just me, or did slaves, like, not have it that bad?”

She had a horrible Boston accent. The kind that would make the girls who play Charlestown junkies in Ben Affleck movies blanch.

Silence overtook the room.

“I mean…” (she probably realized she had made a terrible mistake here) “They had like, free room and board, and free food, right? To me, all that for a few hours of work just doesn’t seem…that bad. Am I wrong?”

The teacher paused, and finally told her yes, she was wrong. He didn’t elaborate.

Salem State University: educating idiots for life.

Congrats to the class of 2012.

Haiku

The snow melted then
Your eyes were coal smoldering
Your mouth a small creek

Go Read This:

My friend Jason guest-spotted (is that a term?) on the blog Did We Do Something To Deserve This?. You should read it and comment and follow the blog, and if you live in Austin you should let him walk your dogs and stuff.

I am finishing up my project period, some of which is due today. Hopefully after the 18th I’ll be able to post more.

I still have to update my links but I am lazy.

Suicide As Metaphor (Draft)

Remember when you took me to eat
at the Thai place, you with
your chian mai noodles, me and
my coconut chicken soup. A date
but not really a date, just talking
about how sad life can be. I liked
the scallions in my soup, tried to get them on
the spoon first, cover my mouth to chew.
Embarassed of hunger.
I folded the pink linen napkin
onto my lap, and you didn’t bother to use yours at all,
but I didn’t point it out, because I felt like I had to walk
lightly on my tiptoes to not break your eggshell spirit.
You said when you were nineteen you drove
somewhere solitary, every morning for a week,
your breath fogging the windshield coated with crystals of frost.
I see you in my mind, even now, years later, your beater car
under a lone streetlight, engine idling, unsure
of how one could find strength
to hook length of hose to exhaust pipe,
block the crack in the window with tape,
articles of clothing, and just let sleep overtake them.
Every day for a week you prayed to God to give you courage
but went home, tail between legs, whimper- soft like a kicked puppy
to cry yourself to sleep on your exhausted pillow.
Every day for a week, and then you emerged as something new.
As you told me I wept into my meal, salt mixing with sweet broth.
I thought of butterflies, of how when I was young I loved
to go to the atrium and sit among the butterflies, watching them flit
from branch to bud. I thought of suicide as a metaphor, or rather
cocoons, metamorphoses, as metaphor for angst; how lonely it must be
to sleep so long in that enclosed space, how painful it must be
to grow wings from one’s back.

So It’s A Little Social…Demented and Sad, But Social.

I am watching the Breakfast Club and remembering back in about 1995/6 Newbury Comics could customize their receipts. I had one, once, with that exact quote, this entry’s title, on the bottom. I kept it forever.

I rather like 80′s things; our friend has an 80′s cover band called Radio Star that we went to see a few weeks ago. Pretty cool stuff. I think part of the reason I like 80′s era everything is because I was friends with this awesome girl Lauren Taylor who disappeared off the face of the earth after 1998 or so. She was amazing and I still have a mixtape of 80′s/90′s music from her (Lost Boys soundtrack stuff, Gary Numan, Fury In the Slaughterhouse). She was the reason I love Diet Cherry Coke and Pez and Pump Up the Volume. Lauren Taylor, I miss you and hope you are well, where ever you ended up.

Here I am wearing a Radio Star shirt.

Anyway, this post is more a stream of consciousness thing, so here goes:

I am planning out and panicking about my trip to Los Angeles. Antioch is pretty rad, and it’s probably the only school at which you can go to a lecture about “The Art Of Translation” and then also attend one called “Word Whoring”. There is a lecture on Lidia Yuknavitch‘s memoir and I am really excited. I feel like I could have pushed myself more this project period, but I wrote some great poems, and I still have a few weeks yet. My emotions get the better of me. Of course I am still like a billion dollars short on my funds so send me money, thanks in advance.

I have had this song stuck in my head for a few days now:

Remember No Alternative? What a cool compilation. That and DGC Rarities were my jams.

Here’s a draft of a poem I wrote. It’s not complete. I need to get some sleep.

Devil

My fingers trace the exit wound
where your love blasted through me.
You saw me, paper doll, younger than you
by centuries, naïve fawn,
a buffet of flesh,
you saw my sadness
and you ate every crumb. You said,
“How many times can one break a girl?”
Then you doubled it. You said,
“Come in from the cold, child, I am warmth”,
but you are not even human. Your heart beats
rot, fever- blistered poison, your teeth tear
virgin flesh. Devil, your heart and hands are ice.
I will tell you a secret, please bend your ear
to my bleeding mouth:
I do not hate you because you hurt me,
I hate you because I loved you
and I am ashamed.

Looking back on it, I think I stole that first couplet from Dax Riggs. Apologies, Dax, it is an homage, not a theft. Dax Riggs is a genius, a herald, a bearer of light. Or darkness. Maybe both.

Bleed Me An Ocean

Busy Bee

I like to leave everything for the last minute, which is why I am now inundated with school work and Lunch Ticket stuff. I just caught up with LT– please take a look and consider submitting. Now I am hashing out a schedule for my next residency. This week will be a lot of catching up and getting ready for a yard sale we’re having on Saturday. Plus, Aidan is sick I think– he grinds his teeth in his sleep when he’s sick. A sure sign.

If I get a chance I’ll post some new stuff this week. I also have to update my blogroll, so if you have a blog and want me to link it tell me in a comment or whatever.

Here is a picture of me with that Blinkins movie I mentioned last time.

Nostalgia, Shame On Me

Procrastination is my best talent. I have so much for school that needs to get done, that was due days ago, but I spent the better part of the evening googling things from my childhood.

This started with Jeff and I talking about beverages they have discontinued over the years (I also posted this on my Facebook so that others could join in). I miss Snapple Elements (my favorite was Rain). I also miss OK Soda.

Mmmmm... Rain.

I Feel Ok

Then I started thinking of candy I liked when I was a kid. My family lived near a convenience store. The store always had different names. Walter’s; Reinhold’s; Silk’s. I spent a lot of money on Slush Puppies, Snapple and Slim Jims. Anyway, I miss Bonkers candy, but I hear they are coming back.

Chocolate was my favorite.

Apparently CareFree gum is discontinued. I am almost positive Alisa was buried with a stick of it– I remember it tucked under her hands.

Suddenly we were discussing old toys and that is when the crushing realization that I am old came hurtling toward me.

I never got a My Pet Monster. I still ask for one every year for Christmas. Someday I will get one; he has to have the handcuffs or it doesn’t count.

It is true that in my parents’ attic I have an entire collection of Strawberry Shortcake dolls (complete with furnished house), Rainbow Brite Dolls (I thought she lived in my basement) and My Little Ponies (most of which I actually sold on ebay, and one beautiful white one with strawberries on her was stolen out of my car in 2001). I have to say I was totally spoiled with toys when I was a kid which didn’t fill the empty void of awful I always felt but still was pretty amazing when you think about it. Toys galore.

Cherry Merry Muffins– I had the one with the chocolate muffins. It smelled awesome. Sometimes I smell something that reminds me of this doll, but it took me forever to find out what it was.

Keypers were awesome little treasure box things. I had this one:

Lady Lovely Locks didn’t fool me; she was punk rock. She had colored extensions!

I adored Smooshees. They were really cute and comforting to me. I remember sleeping with them in my hands. I loved the turtle and the fish. I totally forgot about these until an hour or so ago.

SMOOSHEES.

Oh, Nosey Bears. Another thing I totally forgot about. I loved mine. I think my brother had the basketball one. Oh my youth! My fleeting youth.

The best thing that drudging up all this crazy 80s/90s nostalgia uncovered is Blinkins– a set of dolls that I am pretty sure I had at least one of. But the most important thing is they had a movie that I have been trying to remember for at least 15 years. I just couldn’t figure out how to google it; “fairy 80s” comes up with A LOT of stuff. I loved this movie when I was a kid. And Jeff ordered it for me on Amazon; I’m a happy camper.

LOOK HOW AMAZING

Look how amazing their pet caterpillar is. I should buy this. I loved these toys so much.

My trigger finger is itching to go on eBay or etsy or whatever to buy these mementos from my childhood– but first I am going to go to my parents’ and rip through their attic. Who knows what is up there? Toys for little Eleanor, who, according to the internet’s morphing capabilities, will look something like this:

There are some good websites about 80′s and 90′s out there, I recommend In the 80s and Ghost of the Doll. Please share with me any toys you loved or candies and beverages that you miss, now that we live in the suck-fest that is 2012.

If you want to send me 80s toys you can do that, too.