Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Molly's LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]

Monday, April 21st, 2008
7:56 pm	flowers I had suspected, but only today realized that the flowers blooming in the big sundial planter outside the music building are paper whites. It made me think of my favorite flowers. Here is a list. -Paper whites: I love the way they smell, and their Star-of-David petals, and their fleshy whiteness. My mom doesn’t like them. I think I like them extra to balance that out. We used to get paper whites from friends at Christmas time. It seems strange to see them outside in April; I think of them on the mantle in the darkened living room with the tree lights on. -Amaryllis: Another flower I associate with Christmas time. I love their big red blooms staring up from their assured stalks. And I love the name: amaryllis. -Dancing lady orchids: Yellow and speckled, shaped like women in big skirts and little headdresses. They look Caribbean and wild and happy. -Irises: Colorful and endlessly variable. They look like houses for fairies. And I love to deadhead irises: there’s something satisfying in the sound of the sheath cracking. There’s a certain smell to it, one I know I know but can’t remember, and the crushed wilted petals leave my fingers stained purple. -Lilacs: We have had lilac bushes in all the backyards I can remember. The feel of the grainy bark and the heady smell of the flowers are as much a part of my childhood as books and food. -Violets: A sure sign of spring. Irrepressible. And, in that way, magical. -Crocuses: I had a picture growing up of crocuses and the word “February” and a little tan snail shell. I’ve always felt somewhat possessive of crocuses as if I am linked to them by my February birthday. -Yuccas: Yuccas bloom in summer, fronds of white bells on spiky hairy bushes. Like I’ve said before, they make me want to get married. -Peonies: My very favorite flower, despite their unpleasant smell. To me, they are a plant and a state of being—a symbol of beauty and depth and vastness. I love them. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, February 11th, 2008
2:29 pm	the harmonic sequence A single tone is actually a combination of notes. Multiple notes sound sympathetically (by mathematical relation) to a single note. A string plays a pitch at 60 hertz (60 vibrations per second, 60 being simply for the sake of explanation). That string halved and played again vibrates at 120 hertz, an octave higher. The 60 hertz string divided in thirds vibrates at 180 hertz, an octave and a perfect fifth above the original note, and so on, dividing again and again. Each note is a combination of all its possible divisions. These divisions make up the harmonic sequence. Intervals on modern instruments are deviated (“tempered”) from the harmonic sequence; now, all perfect fifths are the same “size”, but they no longer fit mathematically, and the whole thing ends up 24 cents short. Still, our bodies know the harmonic series. Singers sing sharp in an innate attempt to fit their tones into the harmonic series that washes through the blood constantly. We know this pattern, like knowing how ribs should grow around our hearts and lungs, how the irises of our eyes should shrink and grow and be a perfect circle. A speaking voice is composed of its harmonic series, pitches high and low, often lost over the miniscule speaker of a phone, leaving too many phone conversations somewhat hollow. And I wonder if the deep physical pull of music could be these sympathetic vibrations in one’s body, that our human connection to music is a mathematical perfection, like the Golden Ratio in the growth of tree branches, formation of nautilus shells, and the proportions of the body. I don’t believe that this is part of some plan, but it is a beautiful coincidence of patterns. The harmonic series makes me hopeful. Sympathetically sounding tones—nothing exists in singularity, and this is a comfort. I sing, I speak, I move in my chair, and every day is the sounding of a million tones, just in my own existence, by my own existence. In this way nothing is lost, nothing is meaningless. I am musical vibrations and, to me, that seems like a beautiful thing to be. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, December 6th, 2007
10:11 pm	first snow Today was the first snow of the season: 5 inches. Snow’s silence is unsettling; rain lets you know its weight and duration. Snow slips down and swallows up the world, unexpected and unnoticed until you turn your head toward the window or lift your face toward the sky. This first snow feels like powdered sugar, and I fell once already, and construction workers may have seen up my skirt (though, since I was wearing 3 pairs of tights, it was more like they looked up my skirt and saw pants). I lay in the snow and laughed, perhaps a little hysterical; it was too late for dignity, and humor seemed the next best option. The snow looks so soft in its untouched banks and lawns, like bright sleep. I would lie down in it (on purpose) if it wouldn’t be so freezing. (Comment on this)
Thursday, October 25th, 2007
9:57 pm	an experiment Today, in my Introduction to Psychology class, we started a section on motivation, and spent the class talking about motivation and sex. The professor, after we had taken some notes, told us that we were going to do an experiment, and we needed to pick a partner of the same sex. When that was done, she said, "Now, you're going to hold hands with your partner. And walk around campus for twenty minutes." Obviously, there was quite a stir at this. Then she went on to ask, "What are your reactions? Who might you be afraid to see? What are you worried could happen?" A few boys bluntly refused to participate in the activity. I spoke up a lot, as I tend to do. Finally, at the end of the discussion between uncomfortable, awkward, amused, apathetic, and intrigued students, our professor admitted that we weren't going to do this experiment; she had proposed it to start a dialogue. Honestly, I was rather disappointed. Because I think it would be a fascinating experiment. And I might still do it with a friend for extra credit. In conclusion, I do not heart people who are afraid of sexuality, and I really heart the Kinsey Scale. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
10:10 pm	My voice teacher said to me today, "It is never wrong to want to be as good as you can be." (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, June 10th, 2007
9:00 pm	I've been trying to think about myself in small positives instead of broad negatives.  Because it's time to be better.  --- they took your clothes and cut your hair and couldn’t change you not you (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, May 7th, 2007
12:02 am	When I grow up... ...I want to be a groupie.  (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 17th, 2007
5:05 pm	masquerade! We got our costumes for the opera last night. Mine is burgundy, and relatively nice. There are big shoulders and stiff itchy petticoats, and it has that musty, sweaty smell of rented costume. We struggled into them, fought with the strings and hooks and zips, and wondered who had worn them last, and for what, and did they do anything while in them that I wouldn’t want to know about?    Well, that’s why you shower after.  There are ridiculous feather headpieces, too, like wings.  Hot.  Current Mood: amused (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 21st, 2007
1:13 pm	I'm not hungry these past few days, but I keep eating jellybeans until they make me ill.  Because jellybeans remind me of home.  (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 14th, 2007
8:46 pm	a few Valentine's Day poems from me to you Roses are red, Violets are blue, I like peanut butter And you, too. Roses are red, Violets are violet, On such short notice, Where will we find a pilot? Roses are blue, Violets are red, You're a hottie And I want you in my bed. Roses are pretty,  Violets are cute, Where you going With just one hooker boot? Roses are red, The ocean is blue, You look good with an eyepatch-- Won't you be on my crew? Daffodils are yellow,  Sunflowers, too; Yes, I love Valentine's Day-- What's it to you? Current Mood: amused (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 17th, 2007
10:29 am	I was told I look like Julianna Margulies (again) and that I have birthing hips (for the first time).  Welcome back to school, Molly! Current Mood: amused (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, December 24th, 2006
12:03 am	home I remember exactly how to get everywhere but don't remember the street names.  The bathroom counters seem too tall now, and my bed is so wide.  There are new floors but it's all just the same and, God, I'm glad to be home.  Current Mood: relieved (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, November 9th, 2006
10:01 pm	I e-mailed my Music Literature paper on Joseph Haydn to my mom for some final editing help, and the FIRST thing she did was add the title "Where're You Haydn?"   (Even I'm not ballsy enough to leave it.  Possibly because the professor would vomit on my paper and promptly give me an F.) I miss my mom. PS: livejournal, don't randomly post things I don't want you to!  BAD LIVEJOURNAL, BAD.  Current Mood: bemused (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, September 18th, 2006
2:27 pm	Standing in the stairwell after my voice lesson, trembling.    I want my body, the softness, to fall away, the roundness and pulse; the damp drowsy bloom of capillaries, the dry lace of sharp skin cells on my knuckles, the sucking layers of frayed green around my pupil.  I want to be stripped to the last boards and bolts and angles necessary.  And for those to crumble.  To be only a voice.  An easy column of sky-blue air with rosy deep shadows.  The embodiment of human emotion, inhuman beauty.  Heart cradling, heart breaking.  To sing.    This is it. Current Music: Un bel di, Madame Butterfly (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, September 1st, 2006
2:36 pm	There are 3.4 girls to every 1 boy at Drake.    Um, I'd like a refund...? (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, August 11th, 2006
9:20 am	umbrella You've probably already seen this but I want Marta to see it again.  Because she said she likes it.   umbrella I would like to buy you an umbrella A yellow one I have a new red one It’s nice, but not yellow It might rain I hope it does I could drive us I can drive Just don’t pay attention if I cry over those songs It’s just I missed you for so long But I’d never met you And for there being nothing there Empty hurts a lot. Please don’t look at me like that Unless you mean it. But don’t not look at me. Do you think we could buy some big sunglasses? They will make me look Like a rock star. Of course I want to be a rock star No, no, not for the fame or scandal or money or that Just because it’s nice to say “I’m gonna be a rock star.” It hisses, like neon. Stop laughing, maybe I’m serious I told you it would rain. Well, maybe I didn’t. It smells clean Not like clean laundry, though that’s nice too. It smells like Like maybe tomorrow will be better Though today is good.  Yeah.  I’m glad you’re here.  I’ve been waiting since forever For you. Do you like my red umbrella? It is nice.  It’s not a yellow umbrella though. You need an umbrella; it’s raining. Hey, stop. Promise— Promise you mean that look? (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 6th, 2006
1:26 am	". . . I'm starting to realize that we live in order to change someone else's life."
Tuesday, August 1st, 2006
11:39 am	abuse of the cross-out function An hour and 45 minutes later, my immunization adventure has ended. Good news--I won't give anybody rabies now get meningitis OR mumps OR measles OR rubella.  There's a possibility that I'll die/ my limbs will fall off/ I'll have a seizure, but I won't get meningitis, mumps, measles, or rubella.  Probably.  Except maybe a little from the vaccines.  There was some discrepency about the number of the mumps/measles/rubella shot I got before today but the boy of my dreams a cute boy was there for a while so I didn't mind waiting for faxes and phone calls.  Mom thought the lobby sounded rather fun, like the zoo, when she called and, actually, there was mural in the exam room of a blue-eyed tiger, a headless snake, and two very detailed parrots.  That was kind of zoo-like.  I had to sign a form promising that I won't get pregnant in the next month.  I wasn't planning on it anyway.  Besides, that would involve getting laid and I don't imagine that will happen anytime soon at this rate.  But, just in case, here's crossing my fingers against immaculate conception.  I don't think I'm the best candidate for the next mother of God, though.   I have a silver sparkly band-aid on my left arm and a neon orange band-aid on my right.  As if that wasn't enough, I also got a sticker.  The whole experience was TOTALLY worth it to have a picture of a deranged hippo proclaiming "I got a shot!" that I can stick almost anywhere!  Score.  And now I can go to college! Current Mood: sore (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 18th, 2006
1:53 pm	The "vertical indentation in the midline of the upper lip" is called a philtrum (plural: philtra). THAT IS THE COOLEST THING I'VE LEARNED EVER IN THE PAST MONTH. EVER. Current Mood: excited (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, June 26th, 2006
9:26 pm	garnet heart Want is geological. Most want is gravel—-one might want an iPod, some cake, more money, a goat, this shirt, that necklace. Those wants get stuck in one’s shoes, litter the street. But some wants are caves—-one might want love, a family, to be wanted, to be happy, freedom, success. The want drips, forming stalactites and falling into puddles that dissolve the floor. It is self-creating to be self-consuming. The minerals, metallic reactions, the crystallizations, are so beautiful; the water is poison. The ecstasy of destruction. Why do we want? Because we believe the fulfillment to be worth the suffering. Diamonds are created from coal by unbearable pressure. But if we find anything at all it is almost always a sapphire instead of an emerald, an opal instead of a diamond. Sometimes I feel like, while I want a ruby, I would take a blood clot. More than anything, though, I want to wear the stars as gems, and nothing less will ever do. (6 Comments |Comment on this)