Winter Quarter Words

It's hard to believe that 10 weeks ago I started my second quarter at DePaul. It's even harder to believe how much can change in 10 weeks. 

This quarter I was privileged enough to be in a Reading Poetry class, a simple English prerequisite that would allow me to enroll in more in-depth courses later in my DePaul career. This class was sort of my saving grace as it gave me time to breathe, reminded me that I love what I'm studying, and helped me grow as a writer, reader, and person on many different levels.

Below I've included a recording of myself reading Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art." I had to read this poem for a grade and I'm still not super enthused about the way I've read it, but I wanted to share. Bishop is a master of using classic form and style to create something completely new, and this poem is a great example of that. 

I choose to read this poem for a number of reasons, but I chose to post it because it more or less sums up the struggles of winter quarter. I've lost a lot of ideas, motivation, and opinions in the last 10 weeks and I have truly discovered that loss in any form is hard to master.

As human beings, we lose something every day. But Bishop reminds us that the act doesn't necessarily prepare us for the bigger moments. As much as I wish I could start winter quarter again, the knowledge I've gained is important. 

One Art

  by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster. 

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master. 

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster. 

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master. 

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.  

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Thinking Is Worse Than Being

I like to do this really cool thing where I lie awake for an hour and a half in my bed before I go to sleep and replay my life's mistakes until I curl up in a ball and come to the nightly conclusion that reflection that reflection is the best and worse thing you can do for yourself.

I frequently yell-speak embarrassing things outside the student center, a piece of Twizzler fell out of my mouth while I was talking to a boy that's not actually a Neanderthal, my comment during poetry class about William Blake's line structure was too simple, the list could go on.

It is so easy to remind yourself of these things and then construct how your life would ideally play out. In fact, it is hard to believe that reality turns out any other way than what you've created in your head.

When everything is calculated, we are comfortable. We know what to expect, how to act, what to say to derive the end result we desire. And so when we are thrown off by reality, our responses are jerky, full of mistakes, and regretted instantaneously.

Of course, I wish that everything that came out of my mouth was calculated. I'd probably be successful in my endeavors, be happy, and maybe even have avoided scaring off every member of the opposite sex in a 5 mile radius. But when we live in our heads, we ignore all of the possibilities that come from living through action and reaction.

Instead of thinking about my mistakes tonight, maybe I'll fantasize about everything good that could possibly happen to me. I'll reflect upon what I really want, or even better, what I really need, and I'll make it happen in my head. At least it's happening somewhere. 

I'll be settling for action and reaction in reality for now. Something good has to come out of it eventually, right? 

What It Means to Change For Others

Why do we care about what others think of us? What motivates us to change ourselves for others? How do we stop ourselves from altering ourselves too far in case we realize that the changes we made for ourselves aren't the changes we needed at all?

Sometimes we meet new people and we realize they are exactly what we've been looking for, no matter the relationship we desire. You may do anything to make them stay. We've all told ourselves that we won't change for anyone, but there seems to be people that become exceptions to that rule quite easily. 

It is hard to know when changing for someone else is good for you. We are taught that changing for someone means that you're altering your core, your values, your livelihood. But what if the changes they inspire are what we actually need for ourselves?

College is a time for people to screw up big time. It's sort of mandatory. So even though we may think the people we get to know will change us indefinitely, maybe the outcome isn't as bad as we make it out to be. 

When you change for other people, you change because you see something you desire within them. There are so many people I wish to be and so many people I have yet to meet. In the next two quarters at DePaul, I hope I can find new people that will change me as much as they need me to change them.

Sibling Love

"I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT THE DECAL WAS SUPPOSED TO GO ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE CAR. IT SAID CAR DECAL, NOT WINDOW DECAL. OK," screamed Dad at the dinner table. Each of us exchanged fits of laughter while our eyes shifted away from our slightly seething, half-laughing father. 

"Can I pick the eyeliner off of you? PLEAAAAAASSSSSSSEEEEE. It looks like it'd be so satisfying to peel off," I pleaded to Lindsay.

"NO. Stop Megan!" she barked at me while reading her Stephen Hawking book. "STOP!" she shouted as she wriggled further into the couch to avoid my prying fingers. "MEGAN, SERIOUSLY STOP IT. YOU'RE SO ANNOYING."

"Hey Matt, have fun last night?" I asked in a nudge-nudge wink-wink tone. "Thanks for waking me up at 2 AM. I loved hearing that door slam. So what'd you do?" Matt continued to pour himself a glass of water and seemed to be ignoring my question.

"I said, What'd you do? Hellllllloooo Matt!" I said a little louder than the first time. 

"Nothing, Megan. OK! Jeez." Matt mumbled to me as he sighed while walking out.

Any of these situations come up on a regular basis when the Pietz clan is back in action. After 4 months of not living together, I think as siblings we've all missed each other. Though each of us knows exactly how to piss one another off, there comes a certain kind of comfort with residing in the same hallway and eating dinner together in the evening.

Yes, we talk at least once a week whether it be text or Facetime while we're at school, but it is still odd not knowing exactly what is happening in someone's life, not understanding their course load, or being able to picture the friends we each talk about. After being with one another essentially non-stop from birth, the transition from knowing and understanding everything to nothing is quite odd, even unsettling at times. 

Everyone knows that college allows people to grow and change. Parents pay thousands of dollars so their kids can realize they're not that smart, they're semi-talented, and that they need to grow up a bit more before they can call themselves an adult. So basically, Lindsay, Matt, and I said goodbye to one another just as we were about to change even more drastically than we had throughout high school. Cool.

Matt and Lindsay can make me scream at the top of my lungs to shut them up,but  there are days when you want your siblings to be around. We still send each other "Hope (insert test here) went well" or "Thought of you when I saw (insert link here) today" texts. We still poke fun at each other's styles, taste in music, and studies. And of course, we all equally miss our cat.

Now every time we see each other, Lindsay likes to scream "I love you!" fifteen times while she bear hugs each of us. I can't breathe, but I appreciate it. Sometimes I want to rip her detachable collars or ask her to chew with her mouth closed for the 8th time, I still love her. She likes to scream it, but we all know it exists. Yes, it's cheesy, but it's true.

I know Lindsay and Matt will always be there for me. Our continued communication has proved that. And I can be confident now that we'll always talk. I love my siblings, and I wouldn't have our relationship any other way.

We never look this good anymore 

The last day all of us were together before starting college.