hate to say it, but the corridor is getting so irritating lately. i've always said that school needs to be this hound on a chain in my yard, one thing to let off the leash for frolic, but only one creature not the whole. every time i say this and every time i let myself focus completely on school on the friends i find there (who are lovely) and on the work i find through there, and here i am again thinking damn, where are my other humans, my family, the thoughts i really would like to have but don't have because i've pared away at everything until it's all pared away. i'm tired of writing the same damn things and tired of only coming up with the same damn things and being obsessed by the same damn situations or possible situations. not that i don't love it, love the school, love the people, love the thinking and writing, the dying of eggs and remarking on their colors and the beer-drinking, hip-toting life that i do have going and that makes me happy for the most part, but everything is so limited lately, that's all. life manages to be a paradox of limited and opening, really. but i will start a list of beautiful things i run into and didn't realize i might run into, the things i didn't see because i've seen them before but the things i saw because i let myself. i spent this morning reading stuff and writing letters and in general looking at jobs and pretty soon i need to prep for the class i teach tomorrow and then i need to finish this story i'm writing right now that is sorta-annoying but i'd really like it to be funnier but i think it's not funnier because i'm used to it and the things i'm not used to aren't making their way in. i also spent some time looking at myspace pages today, thinking about why i've refused to join yet another network such as myspace, perhaps because this one already takes enough of my time, but it'd be good fun actually to be able to link to a whole new lot of people i'd just rambled upon accidentally but then fell in love with because they make me see something i hadn't seen before. sometimes i miss that exploration of newness, the idea of life being more elements than war and art and dancing with lovely lovely people. and so, my writing is on hiatus, pissed off at itself really, and ready for me to see something new, find something new, love something new, not fresh new, but really realign-the-mind new.

and upon the observation of my sister, whom everyone knows i adore, i must make link to the word fenestration, which apparently they use at her clinic in the medical sense of the word, meaning to make an opening. to recap, "to defenestrate" means to throw out of a window, and "fenestrated" means to 1) have made an opening [v], or 2) having windows [adj].

As the latin root "de" tends to indicate the opposite of whatever follows (de-compose, de-construct, for example), here comes the question of the day: by which biway or highway of language (1 or 2?) did defenestrate come to mean throw out of a window, instead of either 1) suture an opening, or 2) not have a window?