Until the GRE.
ACK.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
a lot of gratitude a little early
I did, indeed, survive the Logan Airport experience. Thank you for your concern.
However, boo to the Massachusetts highway dept for the 45-minute detour that led me through the scenic downtowns of Athol and Gardner and made me nearly miss my flight. And whose idea was it to screw the subway in favor of an underground bus to the airport from South Station? Not so bad, but totally bizarre.
Also boo to the highway signage that suggests that a gas station is just here, right off this exit, don't worry! It's not like we would put that sign there to maliciously tease you into thinking there's a gas station nearby when really there's just a maze of darkened office parks in which you will probably get lost and needlessly run down what's left in your tank, just so you'll have to get back on the highway and pray until the next exit. Where there won't actually be a gas station either.
But yay for gas prices being down, so that when I finally limped into an open gas station in Leominster and put more gas in my tank than has ever gone in at one time before, it cost less than $25 (I have a small tank).
And now for the part of the story that most of you are probably not actually all that interested in: the wedding and associated weekend activities in Minnesota were WONDERFUL. I realized just how fun the wedding would be when the usher, a college friend, semi-jokingly asked "bride's side or groom's side?" and I was at a total loss as to how to answer (until, of course, he laughed and told me where the rest of our friends were sitting). Our friend The Reverend led a beautiful ceremony, complete with Thais' Meditation played on cello (which is, literally, my favorite piece of music in the world... or at least tied with Kol Nidre played on cello) and a surprise musical tribute from the bride's sister that couldn't have been more emotional had we been in a Meg Ryan movie.
And then, as we were being escorted across campus from the chapel to the reception hall by a bagpiper (both the groom and the college we went to are Scottish, OK?), the women stepping gingerly in our high heels through the remnants of the morning's snow, I realized that we had become Those People. The people who we used to gawk at as they walked across campus in fancy clothes for no apparent reason on random Saturday nights. I also realized a dream that I never even knew I had, which was to be escorted across campus by a bagpiper. I'd put that on the wish list in case I ever have a wedding, except I think that would mean my mother wouldn't come.
We outlasted all the other guests and the reception itself and headed out to the neighborhood bar - with, and at the specific request of, the bride and groom, because they are awesome. But before that came the real moment of glory, which involved weaseling our way into our old freshman dorm and trooping up to the top floor where we all met, and having a Group Nostalgia Moment (aka a 'Were The Rooms Always So Small And The Hallway Always This Narrow?' Moment). And only slightly scared the surprisingly gracious first-years as we peered creepily into their rooms and reminisced.
Except that my freshman year dorm room is now a bathroom. They renovated the dorm a few years ago and added a wing, and turned my room into a bathroom. Some other people's old rooms are just gone now, so I can't really complain. And I'm not really complaining anyway, because a dorm room is a dorm room and it's not like I miss living there.
But I do miss that group of people, crazy as we all were and are. Thank God they happened to me and that we stuck together in our random ways. So much so that now I'm not only still close with most of them, but with their parents too (as evidenced by the Saturday brunch where I spent more time talking to the parents than the friends)... and now, in a few cases, with their gorgeous children.
The Piano Man, the friend that The Reverend and I stayed with in St. Paul for the weekend and who came to the wedding as sort of date to both of us, asked me during the reception if the bride and I had been close. It was strangely hard to answer. I finally said "well, we didn't spend much time one-on-one, but you know, I'd throw myself in front of a bus [not the one that goes to Logan Airport, though] for her, and all that."
Which might not sound like the highest compliment of friendship, but really, when you haven't seen someone in years but you know they'd lay it on the line for you, that if you were desperate tomorrow you could call them and they'd get on a plane, that's about all that really matters in life, don't you think?
All this and it's not even Thanksgiving yet. This weekend in Washington DC promises to be great too, though it can't possibly quite match up. I'm flying out of Hartford.
However, boo to the Massachusetts highway dept for the 45-minute detour that led me through the scenic downtowns of Athol and Gardner and made me nearly miss my flight. And whose idea was it to screw the subway in favor of an underground bus to the airport from South Station? Not so bad, but totally bizarre.
Also boo to the highway signage that suggests that a gas station is just here, right off this exit, don't worry! It's not like we would put that sign there to maliciously tease you into thinking there's a gas station nearby when really there's just a maze of darkened office parks in which you will probably get lost and needlessly run down what's left in your tank, just so you'll have to get back on the highway and pray until the next exit. Where there won't actually be a gas station either.
But yay for gas prices being down, so that when I finally limped into an open gas station in Leominster and put more gas in my tank than has ever gone in at one time before, it cost less than $25 (I have a small tank).
And now for the part of the story that most of you are probably not actually all that interested in: the wedding and associated weekend activities in Minnesota were WONDERFUL. I realized just how fun the wedding would be when the usher, a college friend, semi-jokingly asked "bride's side or groom's side?" and I was at a total loss as to how to answer (until, of course, he laughed and told me where the rest of our friends were sitting). Our friend The Reverend led a beautiful ceremony, complete with Thais' Meditation played on cello (which is, literally, my favorite piece of music in the world... or at least tied with Kol Nidre played on cello) and a surprise musical tribute from the bride's sister that couldn't have been more emotional had we been in a Meg Ryan movie.
And then, as we were being escorted across campus from the chapel to the reception hall by a bagpiper (both the groom and the college we went to are Scottish, OK?), the women stepping gingerly in our high heels through the remnants of the morning's snow, I realized that we had become Those People. The people who we used to gawk at as they walked across campus in fancy clothes for no apparent reason on random Saturday nights. I also realized a dream that I never even knew I had, which was to be escorted across campus by a bagpiper. I'd put that on the wish list in case I ever have a wedding, except I think that would mean my mother wouldn't come.
We outlasted all the other guests and the reception itself and headed out to the neighborhood bar - with, and at the specific request of, the bride and groom, because they are awesome. But before that came the real moment of glory, which involved weaseling our way into our old freshman dorm and trooping up to the top floor where we all met, and having a Group Nostalgia Moment (aka a 'Were The Rooms Always So Small And The Hallway Always This Narrow?' Moment). And only slightly scared the surprisingly gracious first-years as we peered creepily into their rooms and reminisced.
Except that my freshman year dorm room is now a bathroom. They renovated the dorm a few years ago and added a wing, and turned my room into a bathroom. Some other people's old rooms are just gone now, so I can't really complain. And I'm not really complaining anyway, because a dorm room is a dorm room and it's not like I miss living there.
But I do miss that group of people, crazy as we all were and are. Thank God they happened to me and that we stuck together in our random ways. So much so that now I'm not only still close with most of them, but with their parents too (as evidenced by the Saturday brunch where I spent more time talking to the parents than the friends)... and now, in a few cases, with their gorgeous children.
The Piano Man, the friend that The Reverend and I stayed with in St. Paul for the weekend and who came to the wedding as sort of date to both of us, asked me during the reception if the bride and I had been close. It was strangely hard to answer. I finally said "well, we didn't spend much time one-on-one, but you know, I'd throw myself in front of a bus [not the one that goes to Logan Airport, though] for her, and all that."
Which might not sound like the highest compliment of friendship, but really, when you haven't seen someone in years but you know they'd lay it on the line for you, that if you were desperate tomorrow you could call them and they'd get on a plane, that's about all that really matters in life, don't you think?
All this and it's not even Thanksgiving yet. This weekend in Washington DC promises to be great too, though it can't possibly quite match up. I'm flying out of Hartford.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
or die trying
I wish I'd been carrying a camera around to capture the looks on people's faces this week when I've asked them if they've ever flown out of Boston's Logan Airport. Even the people who said no got a sort of horrified look on their faces, as if I'd just asked them if they ever bit the head off a chicken.
This makes me so very excited to fly out of Boston this afternoon, thanks guys!
Especially since everyone who did have advice to offer about the best way to get to the airport offered me completely different advice. Apparently Logan and the Boston public transit system completely change approximately every 12 minutes.
But assuming I make it through the Logan Airport experience alive and on time, it will all be worth it, because I'm going to Minnesota today for the wedding of college friends, i.e. a massive college friend reunion that is going to be soooooo wonderful.
This is that group of friends from college. Most people seem to have them. They're the people you met on Day One, the people who were with you and stuck with you as you figured out who you are, the people who have seen you on the best days and the worst, and everything in between, because you lived down the hall from each other and no one was about to step outside the dorm in February in Minnesota to visit other friends. Save those friends for the balmy months. These are the people that matter when the chips are down.
And now two of them are marrying each other and most of us will be there to help celebrate. I have trouble imagining a better way to spend a weekend.
Assuming I don't get swallowed by the Boston subway en route.
This makes me so very excited to fly out of Boston this afternoon, thanks guys!
Especially since everyone who did have advice to offer about the best way to get to the airport offered me completely different advice. Apparently Logan and the Boston public transit system completely change approximately every 12 minutes.
But assuming I make it through the Logan Airport experience alive and on time, it will all be worth it, because I'm going to Minnesota today for the wedding of college friends, i.e. a massive college friend reunion that is going to be soooooo wonderful.
This is that group of friends from college. Most people seem to have them. They're the people you met on Day One, the people who were with you and stuck with you as you figured out who you are, the people who have seen you on the best days and the worst, and everything in between, because you lived down the hall from each other and no one was about to step outside the dorm in February in Minnesota to visit other friends. Save those friends for the balmy months. These are the people that matter when the chips are down.
And now two of them are marrying each other and most of us will be there to help celebrate. I have trouble imagining a better way to spend a weekend.
Assuming I don't get swallowed by the Boston subway en route.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
save tonight
Several things are happening tomorrow that I'm not at all excited about, not least of which is having to go to work, where certain recent events have managed to disgust me more than most of the pretty nauseating things of the past six months put together (not an easy feat). Most people don't look forward to Mondays, but tomorrow may be one for the record books.
So I'm going to spend a lot of tomorrow thinking about today. How I started the day with a couple hours of work at my food coop, and then went to Greenfield to meet the lovely Ms. Blue Eyes for brunch and lots of talk about Nicaragua, which I absolutely love and where she is about to embark on ten months of Fulbright grant research.
How I came back home and managed to squeeze in a bit of grad school application brainstorming - I wish I could call it "writing" but I don't think it counts if you end up with a blank page at the end, regardless of how many sentences you type and then erase in disgust in the meantime - before the Eight Foot Tall Man (I think he had another nickname at some point in this blog but I can't remember or find it) showed up, announcing that he'd just locked his keys in his car.
We spent a good amount of time laughing hysterically in my driveway while trying to maneuver a mangled wire coat hanger through his window frame to hook around the inside door handle. Which is not a bad way to spend half an hour, especially because it eventually WORKED! Making this the second successful car break-in in which I have participated in the past four months (though admittedly this one wasn't at the top of a remote mountain in North Carolina - you know who you are! - so there was less pressure).
And then we had a fabulous conversation about many things while I got a pot of chili bubbling on the stove, and then friends and more friends showed up for Potluck and Games Night, which has officially become my favorite night of the month because it involves my home, which I love, being filled with my friends, who I love. Which makes me feel, um... loved. Give and you shall receive, they say... I hope that's as true for everyone as it seems to be for me.
Because that is what will keep me going tomorrow. Because it makes everything else livable. Thank you, friends.
So I'm going to spend a lot of tomorrow thinking about today. How I started the day with a couple hours of work at my food coop, and then went to Greenfield to meet the lovely Ms. Blue Eyes for brunch and lots of talk about Nicaragua, which I absolutely love and where she is about to embark on ten months of Fulbright grant research.
How I came back home and managed to squeeze in a bit of grad school application brainstorming - I wish I could call it "writing" but I don't think it counts if you end up with a blank page at the end, regardless of how many sentences you type and then erase in disgust in the meantime - before the Eight Foot Tall Man (I think he had another nickname at some point in this blog but I can't remember or find it) showed up, announcing that he'd just locked his keys in his car.
We spent a good amount of time laughing hysterically in my driveway while trying to maneuver a mangled wire coat hanger through his window frame to hook around the inside door handle. Which is not a bad way to spend half an hour, especially because it eventually WORKED! Making this the second successful car break-in in which I have participated in the past four months (though admittedly this one wasn't at the top of a remote mountain in North Carolina - you know who you are! - so there was less pressure).
And then we had a fabulous conversation about many things while I got a pot of chili bubbling on the stove, and then friends and more friends showed up for Potluck and Games Night, which has officially become my favorite night of the month because it involves my home, which I love, being filled with my friends, who I love. Which makes me feel, um... loved. Give and you shall receive, they say... I hope that's as true for everyone as it seems to be for me.
Because that is what will keep me going tomorrow. Because it makes everything else livable. Thank you, friends.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
with no offense to the healing arts
Can someone please explain to me the logistics of "placebo acupuncture"?
Do they stick you with fake needles? Hypnotize you and make your subconscious believe it happened?
(OK, OK, I do get it now, because I read enough of the article to get the explanation. Now I just want to know, who sits around and thinks "I wonder if you'd be more likely to get pregnant if we just convince you that you've had acupuncture instead of actually sticking you with needles"???) (Answer: someone who gets paid a lot more than I do, I'm sure.)
Next thing you know, you'll be able to get placebo massage therapy where they just pretend to touch you. But I'm sure someone's already trying to market that, anyway (or is that reiki?).
Do they stick you with fake needles? Hypnotize you and make your subconscious believe it happened?
(OK, OK, I do get it now, because I read enough of the article to get the explanation. Now I just want to know, who sits around and thinks "I wonder if you'd be more likely to get pregnant if we just convince you that you've had acupuncture instead of actually sticking you with needles"???) (Answer: someone who gets paid a lot more than I do, I'm sure.)
Next thing you know, you'll be able to get placebo massage therapy where they just pretend to touch you. But I'm sure someone's already trying to market that, anyway (or is that reiki?).
Monday, November 10, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
unreal in mn
236 votes. Out of 2,422,848. (How that is "nearly 3 million," as the Star Tribune suggests, is a little bit of a mystery to me, but whatever.)
236. And anyone doubts that their vote matters?
UPDATE: Aha, I know how that's "nearly 3 million" - it doesn't include the 15% of the vote that went to the Independent candidate, Dean Barkley. And anyone doubts that runoff voting is a good idea?
236. And anyone doubts that their vote matters?
UPDATE: Aha, I know how that's "nearly 3 million" - it doesn't include the 15% of the vote that went to the Independent candidate, Dean Barkley. And anyone doubts that runoff voting is a good idea?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
distraction while we hold our breath
I can't say much about Election Day right now except that the photo in the NY Times of people lining up to vote outside PS 375 (aka Jackie Robinson School) in Brooklyn made me cry just now.
And I'm really excited that NPR's commentator thinks one of the four towns to watch for indications of how things will go nationally is Claremont, NH, since I canvassed there and I'm really optimistic about it. I'd love to think that it really is a good bellweather (assuming my optimism turns out to be well-founded, of course).
And I would love for things to be called early, but I won't believe anything until McCain concedes. 2004 hurt too much.
And now that I'm done not saying anything about Election Day, I wanted to post this video of some very life-affirming slam poetry. I was talking to someone about this recently and intended to send this to them (you?), but I can't remember who that was (no offense) and everyone should watch it anyway. This is a good moment for life-affirming art.
And I'm really excited that NPR's commentator thinks one of the four towns to watch for indications of how things will go nationally is Claremont, NH, since I canvassed there and I'm really optimistic about it. I'd love to think that it really is a good bellweather (assuming my optimism turns out to be well-founded, of course).
And I would love for things to be called early, but I won't believe anything until McCain concedes. 2004 hurt too much.
And now that I'm done not saying anything about Election Day, I wanted to post this video of some very life-affirming slam poetry. I was talking to someone about this recently and intended to send this to them (you?), but I can't remember who that was (no offense) and everyone should watch it anyway. This is a good moment for life-affirming art.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
toward restoration
When you were a kid, did you wish upon stars?
I don't remember doing it much then, but the concept has somehow had more appeal as I've gotten older.
And just now, coming home from a Sweet Honey in the Rock concert, getting into a good meaty discussion in the car on the way back, getting ready to set my clock back for an extra hour of sleep before canvassing in New Hampshire all day tomorrow, I looked up for a long time at the blanket of stars with the Milky Way streaking across it.
And I'm not gonna lie, I made more than my fair share of wishes. But hey, there are a hell of a lot of stars out there tonight, and there are just so darn many things I'm hopeful for.
I don't remember doing it much then, but the concept has somehow had more appeal as I've gotten older.
And just now, coming home from a Sweet Honey in the Rock concert, getting into a good meaty discussion in the car on the way back, getting ready to set my clock back for an extra hour of sleep before canvassing in New Hampshire all day tomorrow, I looked up for a long time at the blanket of stars with the Milky Way streaking across it.
And I'm not gonna lie, I made more than my fair share of wishes. But hey, there are a hell of a lot of stars out there tonight, and there are just so darn many things I'm hopeful for.
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