They call me Mister Understood cause no one understands me.

I am angered and annoyed by the Colts Superbowl loss. I am happy, however, that my Astronomy book was finally returned to me. It is so pretty! Here are photographs! Look at them while I ragefully grumble about football and the like.

It’s so very lonely. You’re two thousand lightyears from home.

Man, I need to get better at updating.

Internet, this semester I took a course in astronomy. My feelings on the cosmos can be explained as thus: space is crazy. Things blow up and cease to exist and in the ceasing create new things all the time. Black holes are not, in fact, black; they are invisible. Wrap your head around that for a moment. There are enormous, vacuous nothings that continually suck in anything surrounding it, and you’ll only know about its existence after your body is ripped in twain by gravity. What.

The picture above was taken from Astronomy Picture of the Day, a nifty little website with beautiful, baffling, and humbling photos of space. It’s worth a gander.

I was most fascinated by the formation and death of stars. For our final project, we were able to write a fiction story about an aspect of space, so long as it was scientifically accurate.  I also made a hardcover book for my piece to live. (Which turned out wonderful, if I might be so bold. I’m not sure when I’ll get it back from my teacher. Once I do, I’ll be sure to post pictures.) So, this is my space story. It’s about a girl exploding. A weird one! But I’m very pleased with it. It’s violent, and educational!

This reminds me of an old African proverb I made up.

Cat has returned to the frozen tundras of Maine for Thanksgiving Break. This means I am sans roommate until I return to Crane’s Ford on Tuesday. Now, I am by no means happy to have her gone. Our tiny, repugnant room feels so empty. Every time I have a crazy thought that I need to vocalize without judgement, I turn and there is no one to listen, and I have to internalize all my crazy which is probably going to give me ulcers. However, because I am alone, I have been able to do things I otherwise would be unable to do.

For example!

I enjoy listening to music when I write. Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of Beirut while I work. Beirut is a World music/Balkan Folk/Eastern European/Electronica band. (Led by a 25 year old guy from Santa Fe, who knew?) They’re very theatrical, and they incorporate a wide range of instruments into their compositions. Because no one was around, I was able to play this lovely music at full volume instead of though headphones. (Headphones purchased at a bodega for two dollars that refuse to stay in place and are quite painful.) Here is one such song that I played on a loop this week, likely to the chagrin of my neighbors.

Here is another one because Ilovethemsomuch. This song will be used in the final scene of the mini-series that will be based on the novel that my thesis will become. (That is thinking ahead, right there.)

SPEAKING OF THESIS I turned in for my last workshop of the semester. Frightening! Internet, I’m not typically cocky about my work. But let me tell you: what I turned in Thursday? It is so good. Like, I’m not really sure I was the one that wrote it. It’s very long (eighteen pages!) but it doesn’t have an ending yet, and two very important scenes had to be reduced to bracketed summaries. So here is an excerpt! To set you up: The narrator, Alan, is a thirty-seven year old dentist. He is moderately suicidal, and he has an intense fixation on his brother James’ fiancee, Alyssa Baker. In this bit, he is in Greenwood Cemetery with his childhood neighbor, Stella. Her husband Martin has just died, and they went to look at his family’s plot. Stella saw that one of the headstones had fallen over, and she attempts to lift it, and fails miserably. Oh, there’s also a passing reference to The Devil’s Tree, a Weird New Jersey staple. Okay, that should be enough information. Alright!

There will be no poor people at my wedding. Why waste the seat? They’re nice seats. They’re covered in satin.

Gaze upon my creation until your heart rots with jealousy.

Look at this book I made you guys it took me like six hours and it is beautiful look at it look at it look at it.

Special guest appearances by my desk and horrendously chipping nails.

Internet, I am very pleased with my creation. Granted, I do think some content on the pages are a little sloppy (halfway through I ran out of glue and had to use scotch tape. I am nothing if not resourceful.) but the crafting of the actual book turned out much better than expected. This was my first attempt with honest-to-goodness materials. (The mockup I did in class was made with poster board and sketch paper, not book board and nice paper like this.) I am happy! I may have pulled a muscle or twelve in my back and spent ten dollars on a single bridal magazine that is now tattered beyond recognition, but look what I have to show for it! This thing!

I used the slightly-modified text of a piece I wrote last year, something that will eventually be retooled and worked into my thesis. My thesis is going to be about a wedding, so I have been doing some very serious research on the subject. (Say Yes to the Dress, Bridezillas, and all of the bridal programming on WETV are significant works that require citing.) You’re probably unable to read much of the text in the pictures, internet, as I had only the camera in Molly the Mac to take these photos. So here is is! I broke it up the same way it appears in the book. Hooray!

“R” is the most menacing sound in the English language. That’s why it’s called “murder” and not “muckduck.”

Oh man, it sure is good being productive. Do you know what’s even better? The exact opposite of that.

Aww, silly crabs acting all fancy.

Also, here is a short piece I wrote for “Reading and Writing in Brooklyn.” It’s set in Red Hook! And it’s about a hooker! Crazy!

In New Jersey, we roll hard, we roll strong, and we roll together.

Internet, it is no secret that I am proud of my intrepid little state. (We’re the cranberry capital of the world!) I am so proud of my state, in fact, I often forget that not everyone lives there. (A recent example: during my first Thesis Critique, I mentioned my characters were very Bergen County, and my teacher stared at me blankly before saying he had no idea what that meant. It means they have money. For anyone curious.)  So let me tell you something about Newark, New Jersey, internet: it’s not a great place.  In the sixties and seventies it was plagued with race riots, and still today there are major problems with gang violence, poverty, and unemployment. It’s also the largest city in New Jersey, and usually gets the attention.

Now that the history lesson is over, let me tell you something about Newark’s Mayor, Cory Booker: He is awesome.  You may be saying to yourself, internet, “Oh hay, wait, I think I know that guy. Didn’t he pick a fight with Conan O’Brien and ban him from Newark Airport?” You bet your ass he did. But scraping with late-night television hosts isn’t what makes this guy a dude.

What makes this guy a dude is how much he truly loves and intends to improve his city. When he was a councilman, he would camp out in a motor home in areas where the most drug-trafficking occured. He personally patrols the streets until as late as four in the morning. Under him, Newark leads the nation in Violent Crime Reduction. Murders are down 42%, rapes 41%, and overall robberies 12%.

What. I know. Check out this super reputible source, it is wild.

This is all very exciting stuff. Newark politicians have been so corrupt for so long, it’s redonk seeing someone so hands-on and committed to fixing everything. Wanna know how committed? After being elected, President Barack Obama offered Cory the chance to head the Office of Urban Affairs Policy, and he turned it down. He turned down the president of the Goddamn United States because he wasn’t done fixing Newark.

Damn.

Stephen Colbert was right, Cory Booker. You might be The Batman.

Do you think all books are the same book?

LOOK WHAT I DID LOOK WHAT I DID LOOK WHAT I DID. 

   

IT’S A BOOK. THAT I MADE. IN MY BOOKMAKING CLASS. THAT I’M TAKING. TO LEARN TO MAKE BOOKS.

 

If I have not been clear I am pretty pumped for this book, you guys.

(Also if writing doesn’t pan out, these photos would be an excellent start for my portfolio for my hand modeling career am I right or am I right.)

This is only my first try, but I’m still really excited about it. I am not a crafter. Usually if I am not immediately good at something, I burst into tears or throw something breakable against a wall and give up ever trying that thing again because obviously it’s stupid and dumb and I didn’t even want to do that thing anyway God. But I think this is pretty good! Colleen and I are going to have an adventure this weekend and seek out actual bookmaking items to use, instead of improvising with whatever art materials we possess. A splendid time is guaranteed for all. Expect more I’M A SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE LOOK AT THIS THING posts in the future. 

In general I think I’m doing quite fine.

When the town re-did this area, they sold bricks that you could have messages carved into. My dad bought one. It says, “The Mullens: Living in the City of Dreams since 1986.”

Sometimes I get homesick for no real reason.

New Jersey’s great! It’s got huge stores, and lawns, and you never have to carry a cup again!

Oh internet, look at how productive I am. Two posts in the same week? I am like the supreme ruler of blogging for specific and oft-ignored purposes.

I turned in my treatment for my thesis Thursday. (A treatment is basically a brief plan of what you plan to do with a project. It’s sort of like a proposal, but more specific.) Thrilling stuff! It’s a little terrifying knowing all this stuff that’s been fermenting in my brain for the past year is going to be on paper soon, and people will be able to, like, look at it. I’m really anxious to start though. I think it’ll be great, or horrible. My attitude changes on any given day.

This is not related to my thesis. It’s a piece a wrote for my “Reading and Writing in Brooklyn” class. We had to write about a “Brooklyn moment” we experienced. The ending is a little too and then this cah-raaaaazy thing happened isn’t that wild but generally I like it. So here it is. Huzzah.

What’s wrong with me is that you’re freakishly tall! I feel like a woodland creature!

Well, internet, I am infirm. You know what that means. Spending the day getting ahead in my homework so I can dedicate more time to crafting my thesis? Fuck no. It means eating a lot of toast, shotgunning several cartons of orange juice, and occasionally updating this thing I forget for long periods of time. Also watching a lot of TV on the internet. Being congested and thinking you’re going to die ROCKS!

Here’s the other piece I wrote for Bookmaking. I might make a book for it later in the year, but as I learned this weekend, making books is a horrible death trap of cutting paper and pulling the muscles in your back and getting rubber cement all over your legs and also in your hair. But I digress. Here you go.