she is already a jewish mother

Remember this--although I went through most of the day slightly disoriented, a little upset--still, the evening was all loveliness. This evening was a passover seder, hosted by Cozy at Katie & Colleen's apartment; it was the tastiest matzo ball soup I've ever had, and drama kids sitting around coffee tables and couches and making terrible jokes and laughing at everything; it was pot roast (which everyone said was incredible), and very sweet wine and sparkling grape juice. It was a seder with parsley and saltwater and everything else that I probably can't spell properly; with lots of blessings and drinking and eating; and with the mos beautiful toast, a toast to being grateful for, among other things, love, peace, friends, clean pajamas, toes and hands and ears and breasts, caresses, wine, and many other good things on this earth.

it feels like april, now...

This morning, though a long coincidence, I re-found the blog of a former writing teacher of mine, Shauna, who has chronicled in this blog her love of food, reformed into gluten-free cooking, since she found out she had celiac disease--posting recipes and photos and sharing herself with the world. She is of course a beautiful writer, & I spent at least an hour wandering through her posts, remembering her, reading her gorgeous prose about the sensations of food and her adoration of her nephew, and her infinite love for her fiance, a chef--all of her stories lend me a indescribable glow.
It probably didn't hurt that the sun was out and shining gloriously today, & it was warm enough that I didn't wear my coat to school; or that dance class this morning was full of slightly tentative and awkward joy at discovering improv and our own movements in space; or that my shoes are wearing down to the point where I could feel the ground, whether concrete or dirt, beneath my feet when I walked; or that I had to squint when I walked home because of the brightness of the spring light.
Shauna's posts made me want to continue past my apartment and wander through Pike Place and gather food and create something--or to build something with my hands, or to ride a ferry in the sunshine or craft a poem, or pick up my guitar or recorder or to sing; or go back to dancing again.

Instead I'm afraid what I have to craft is this application essay, which is proving harder than it should be. I'm mired between cliches and pretentious language and inability to express what I want--which is Oh, please, I want so much to study at your school & learn things I never knew & to explore your town & your city & your country--in language that will make me look desirable as a student, rather than desperate. Ah well...Shauna would tell me to just sit down and write it, & make myself write a crappy first draft, & then return to it with gusto and fix everything again and again and again. So. Here we go.

(The blog, in case you're interested, is this: Gluten-Free Girl. Go take a look.)