First Snow

This past Thursday, Michigan students saw the first snow of the season. While it did not last long, having some snow is better than none. Last year, snow came earlier than this year, so it feels weird that there is not a lot of snow. Why am I waiting for more snow? What about snow makes it so special to see? For me, an out of state student from Colorado, I miss seeing snow so often. Yet, the reason for snow being so special to me goes beyond this reason. I see snow and music correlated together. I feel nostalgia when I see snow falling. Both snow and music have a sense of beauty and fluidity that has layers of complexity. For snow, a snowfall can start gentle and slowly heighten as it builds layers. With music, a piece can start calm and build up to the climax. The swirling of snowflakes in the air, as they fall in a gentle motion, mirrors music as musicians have the power to interpret the piece any way they want. The notes can be soft and quiet, much like the mood a snowfall gives, and it could be light and mantle in the way a piece is played.

I immediately thought of Debussy’s “The Snow is Dancing“, as quite literally the name of the piece describes snow. The structure of the piece itself captures the “dance” of snow with its shimmering effect and delicate flowing patterns of the snow falling onto the ground. The piece also has a moment, climax, where the snow grows harsher and the winds become cruel. This evokes the feeling of heavy Michigan snowfalls, as it becomes impossible to walk to class. It then quiets and calms down, however, at the end of the piece, emphasizing the delicacy and stillness of snow falling.

The Bursley Pirate Ship: FLOOD EDITION

PIRATE SHIP FACT: Even medieval pirate ships had drainage systems to disperse the effects of ship flooding (the Middle Ages started around 476 A. D. for reference).

I started this blog with a metaphor. I did not mean to manifest the symbolism.

Last Thursday marked Bursley Hall’s brief run as the Ann Arbor Kalahari. After a pipe broke on the fifth floor of Sanford House, the four floors below became aquatic as well, with over half of each hall experiencing flooding from under their doors and walls. The building was evacuated at around 1 AM while campus officers dealt with the damage.

I was sitting the CLC when the fire alarm went off. This is terrible to publish publicly, but I was quite ready to sit out the alarm. It’s a testament to my lack of self preservation, but the chance that the smoke isn’t just from someone microwaving their popcorn for forty-five minutes is very slim at this point. Thankfully, someone with much better senses burst into the CLC and yelled “there’s BLACK WATER filling the hallway we gotta go right-“

Even I got that cue.

We quickly grabbed our belongings (because I’d rather drown than tell my parents I need a new computer) and headed towards Baits. As my friends and I passed Bursley on our walk, the steam we saw on the windows was cruel foreshadowing.

I remember laughing in Baits with everyone about how we should go do laps, a hall toilet was revolting, etc. Baits filled with confused Bursley kids till 1:30 am. While looking for positives, the Bursley residents looked around and found hope in the statement “at least we don’t live here.”

The second statement that was fueling me was “well it can’t be my hall.” Then my friend got a text from a source near the building.

We ran back to Bursley, swiped in probably twenty times cause the card reader was feeling needy, and ran to my roommate and I’s dorm. I looked across the floor and girls were already dumping their wet items into the hall. There was a pool of water at the center of the floor that everyone was hopping over like it was their 9 to 5, exhausted faces all around. The girls on my floor were already over it, and it had just begun.

After clearing out our belongings

I threw my door open to find the entire back flooded. Our fridge was swimming in a couple inches of water while the microwave and coffee machine were getting showered by the water pouring in from the window. Thankfully, I am surrounded by people who are way too nice who helped my roommate and I sort through our drenched belongings.

When I tucked myself into my friend’s couch (which was actually really comfortable), it was around 4 am. We later learned that a pipe broke on the fifth floor when two boys were playing football, and accidentally hit a sprinkler. Either Tom Brady reenrolled and got housed here to study musical theatre at the drama center, or Bursley is the only building in history with paper piping. Not only do we live in the woods, but now we live near the lake.

They offered us temporary housing in Stockwell, which I believe is one of the nicest dorms on campus. So from our perspective it’s like our decaying cabin in the woods got destroyed, but then the landlord for our cabin decided to give us keys to their penthouse, only to snatch it away in about a week. This is a university sponsored space so I do want to mention (for nuance) that yes yes, this is an accidental and isolated situation. I’ll ponder this more from the Qdoba in the West Quad basement.

At least this album cover came out of it.

Bursakopia

From the Sanford House lazy river while sipping dining hall apple juice on a flamingo floaty,

Captain Singh

Capturing Campus: A Little

I die a little each day

I breathe in and out even when I cannot

bear 

the silence

I think of you often

I think of us sometimes

mostly in the dark

The day feels too delicate

to suffocate beneath the weight

of your going

You’ve gone

I sometimes think

you’ll come back to me

flowers in hand

a smile on your face

and everything will be okay

Until then, I’ll die a little each day

Gallena, the Golden Girl

Gallena! The runaway Fae-Dragon to Fantasy Iceland!

Her inspiration was the Golden Siren from the Jibaro episode of Love, Death, and Robots. I saw it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wanted to create someone that was inspired by but not copying the siren. I think I did well.

I tried to distance myself from the LDR design by upping the space motifs. She’s from the same space court that Lias is from. I plan to give that court a 60s vibe because that was the space race era. I gave her a sheath dress made of small layered satellite panels, because many satellites are covered in gold sheets for solar protection.

The hair and horns were a challenge to. The LDR siren had a 20s bob cut, and I envisioned Gallena with one for a long time. She’s supposed to have short hair to contrast with Balder’s locks. I settled on getting rid of the bangs, making it wavy, and sweeping it to the side. The horns had many concepts, as shown on the page. She was intended to have a continuous crown growing in a circle from her head. I realized it was a hassle to draw and plan, so I broke the crown into segments instead. I like the decision; she looks much more punk and spiky.

aSoSS 32 | Skeptic

I don’t think any TV sold within the past six years has had any sort of DVD player in it…

Traverwood Library, 6:30PM, 9/11/2024

[an excerpt, or a cry for help]

there is small comfort in the whole truth, but there is no comfort in a half-truth, because your honesty is shielded by your shame. just because you can tell a story doesn’t mean it deserves to be heard. are you not shameful? we are growing old, novelty ripped out and replaced by convenience. perhaps i will write today, because there is also a small comfort in a whole lie, a brazenness mistaken for bravery. an undiagnosed feeling squirms in my stomach. it takes a lot of half-truths, a summation of sins and sorrows, to approach the mirror, speak the words–


You can drive for two or three days in Texas and not leave the state.

Yeah, it’s one of the biggest states.

Alaska is even bigger… look at that. Too big.

Pierpont Commons, 2:00PM, 10/31/2024

it’s nothing, really, and it’s true, because nothingness–emptiness–inflames the mind and plagues the soul. i lick the envelope; it is empty for now, though it will carry the weight of a novel in its folds. i think of emily dickinson and susan gilbert, tongue and glue, attraction misattributed like an incorrect citation. the quote wasn’t theirs, did you know? it was written by carolyn forché. you are beaming. of course i knew, but i tell you otherwise because this is your moment, your gold nugget that you sifted from the crevices of memory. how would forché put it? tenderness is in the hands? that means–


But that’s just the way that I have to communicate with some of my relatives, just to let them know that hey, I’m still here!

Ann Arbor Thrift Shop, 1:00PM, 11/18/2024

–the heart is the toughest part of the body, though not for good reason. graphite needles puncture skin, drawing blood from vein to inkwell. you’re stationary–letters leaking, fingers bleeding, arms wound like a clock: forever crooked, never on time. the wire, peaked with clothespins, is slack and sagging. to allow for miracles, you say, even though you don’t believe in them. i believe in you, though. what does that make me?

to the right, the maxilla quivers. to the left, the mandible spins, closing the gap. hot breath, pulsing gums, the proof of life staring at you–do we make our own miracles?–as you stare back at the scythe, at the split decision–

midnight strikes. the gator’s mouth snaps shut. the clothesline pulls taut and the pins are falling, falling, gone.