And then a hush fell over Hofstra

It's eerily quiet here now that finals have ended. People certainly did not delay in getting the hell out of Dodgestra! Of course, a bunch of my 1L friends and I are still lurking about, ostensibly working on our writing competition papers. Uh-huh. The greatest thing is now I can watch my Netflix DVDs with reckless abandon and not feel guilty that I should be studying. Also, I rather enjoy the challenge of packing. I used to hate it, back when I moved every five seconds during my late teen/early twenties/California years. These days I really get into it. Perhaps because I've revolutionized my thinking about earthly possessions? That must have something to do with it. Man, Asia was life-altering. But I've mentioned that before.

I am sitting in the law school and I think I was the only person in this building until just a few minutes ago. It was a little unnerving but then again kind of cool. (I'm not exaggerating, either. I can swipe my law student i.d. to access this computer lab 24/7. There was NO ONE else.) I kind of like the Hofstra campus in all its spring blooming greenery glory. Also I like mornings. Part of the reason for this abject solitude is clearly that I was here so early. The past two days I have woken up at 6 a.m. Well, if you count snoozing then at 6:10. This meant that I accomplished quite a lot yesterday, especially when compared to my friends who woke up around 1 p.m. I only hope today is as productive. It's all about the packing, and the Throwing. Things. Out. I remember in L.A. when people used to make fun of my clinging inability to toss things. Jodi actually came over and was all about holding the trash bag for me and repeating like a mantra "You don't need it. You don't need it. You don't need it." That was funny. Life is funny.

Yesterday was also full of news, some good and some bad. Among other things, my cat is dying. Well, she's really my mom's cat, now, but we're still good friends. My former roommate and I acquired her at USC even though we were forbidden to have pets in that apartment. Such rebels. But she was never really the roommate's cat from day one, and we kind of knew it would go that way. We took her in shortly before my life-altering spring break. When I returned from that trip I stepped into my walk-in closet and saw out of the corner of my eye two little fuzzy masses moving in the corner. Kittens. Tiny, newborn, curled up baby kittens. After graduation the kittens ended up going to a friend and her family in California, and the cat went to Arizona for the summer while I set out for more life altering. And she's lived in Arizona ever since, mostly with my mom although she did a stint chez my dad, too. I've always felt guilty about separating her from her children, and slightly less guilty about "foisting her on" my mom. I think my mom really did want her, and I did get resistance about reclaiming her upon my return to the U.S. Anyway, she and my mom have had a nice little companionship. And as I said, whenever I go to visit, the cat and I hang as if we've never been apart. But now she is super sickly, and not long for this world.

Speaking of Cuba (I was, you know) and being sick, have you heard the latest Michael Moore trouble? His new film, Sicko, which lambastes among other things HMOs and the sorry state of the health care industry in the U.S., premieres at Cannes this weekend. (And in the U.S. at the end of June. Yay! Hardly can I wait.) Well, apparently the Bush Administration is investigating him for possibly acquiring some of the content of that film in violation of the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba. In other words, he went there. Moore and his people have had to spirit a master negative out of the U.S. for fear our government is going to confiscate it! This just makes my head spin. Hey all you insipid, flag-waving, warmongering, God-told-me-to-be-a-Republican-and-write-country-songs-about-it folks--is this the "best" "why do they hate us?" "at least I know I'm free" nation you've been praising?

Because frankly it reminds me of the stories I used to hear as a wee little tyke about the Big Bad Soviet Union, where bibles and other "western literature" were smuggled in and out, maybe second only to blue jeans, and as we heard it told no one was free to write/read/hear/watch anything but every last Russian was salivating at the very thought of the freedom of 'MERRika. I shake my head now at the way the Big Bad Soviet Union was portrayed in the eighties. I need a giant retroactive grain of salt. Not to be confused with a radioactive grain of salt that makes giant bugs, like you see in bad Cold War era movies.

For more wacky childhood reminiscence in need of salt, see today's Literary Supplement.