Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Tuesday Observations

A few observations:

Chai tea is gross. No matter how much you want to like it, no matter how convinced you are that you've finally become a tea drinker and can sip with the best of them, somehow you still can't stomach the odd gingerbread-y taste of chai tea. Even when the nice man behind the counter puts honey in it for you.

Swiss watches are expensive. And just because you're a college student, and want one for a Christmas present, and spotted the perfect one in a store window, doesn't mean that the price drops down from the thousands where it currently lingers with a Grinch-like grin.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

It's Been Six Months

Remember this post, when I said that in six months, I could very well be here?



Ahem.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

The Year Without a Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! This is the fourth one we're celebrating together (if you can believe it).

There was the 2008 Thanksgiving Narrative

There was the 2009 Cranky Thanksgiving Post

And there was the 2010 Thankful Thanksgiving (yes, it took me three years to actually figure out the purpose of the holiday)

This year, however, is radically different. This year is the Year of No Thanksgiving.

They don't celebrate it over here, you see. I had classes today as usual. Stores are open. There are no touch football games going on in the park, and there are no driveways overflowing with out-of-town cars.

It's an ordinary day here in Austria, and I have to say, it makes me a little sad.

AIFS is trying to make it up to us by organizing a fancy dinner concert for tonight. We're going to the oldest restaurant in Europe to eat a three course meal (traditional Austrian food, not turkey) and listen to Mozart. Dresses and suits are required.
And while this is all very nice, and while I appreciate the program trying to make us feel less forlorn about missing Thanksgiving, I would much prefer jeans and sweatshirts to a cocktail dress. I would rather eat my Dad's homemade stuffing than schnitzel. I would rather sit across the table from my young cousins than from people who don't know the first thing about me. Heck, I would rather suffer through another Packer win than listen to a string quartet.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to study in Salzburg. I'm thankful for all that I've seen and experienced. I'm thankful for my health and my newfound independence and for my family and friends back home who love me. I'm thankful for Special K Cereal (red berries).

And I'm thankful for you, especially if you stuck with me after the 2009 Thanksgiving post (that was rough to reread).

Have a wonderful day, you guys. Eat plenty of turkey for me.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Reasons Why I'm a Goon

1. I post way too many lists on this blog

2. I thought of my New Year's Resolution today, and got so excited about it that I wanted to start immediately...but then decided to wait until January 1st so that I can call it a New Year's Resolution.

3. I began drinking tea about a month ago because it's a romantic thing to do.

4. I cried four times watching Finding Neverland last night.

5. I read books aloud to myself sometimes.

6. I don't just love movie trailers; I analyze movie trailers as I watch them, picking out what's good and bad about how they're put together.

7. I secretly want to make movie trailers for a living.

8. I asked for a subscription to National Geographic for Christmas

9. I've had the same plastic key chain on my backpack since 9th grade. It's a plastic light-up skull that I found in a Froot Loops box, and I like to think that it got me successfully through quite a few Speech seasons. Now I just use it as a general good luck charm.

10. I spend a lot of time reading food blogs and bookmarking recipes to make at a later date. When I have an actual oven. And counter space. And money.

11. To fall asleep at night, I listen to an episode of the Stuff You Missed in History Class podcast. A few nights ago I made the mistake of listening to the episode about the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. Then I got scared and had to turn the light back on.

Monday, November 21, 2011

We Meet Again

That crazygeniusbastard (maybe if I run it together, no one will notice the profanity. Oh hi Mom.) Hemingway and I met again today.
For literature, the assigned reading was For Whom The Bell Tolls.

Remember last summer, when it took me almost a month to read that book? Remember how I was intimidated by it, and then hated it, and then loved it?

So do I.

Anyway, it was lovely to discuss the book with actual people and an actual professor of literature. It was also reassuring to discover that the themes I gleaned from the book last June/July are real, live WIDELY ACCEPTED HEMINGWAY THEMES. Hoorah!

There may be hope for me and my English major after all.

P.S. I have officially come to terms with the fact that I am taking a class entitled "Gender and Sexuality in Literature of the American Tropics" this spring. I have to fulfill a human diversity requirement for my major, and Multicultural Literature was full. I'm on the waitlist, but things aren't looking good on that front. So...gender and sexuality it is.

Don't get me wrong here; there is absolutely nothing wrong with the subject of this class, and as a matter of fact I've always thought I should take a GWSS course whilst at Morris, as it's not an area I'm familiar with. That's the thing, though. It's not an area I'm familiar with. And the course sounds so...specific. With the English classes I've taken thus far in my college career, readings have spanned many eras, topics, and writing styles. If I found myself uninterested in a topic (ahem. Romantic British poets, I'm looking at you), I merely had to grit my teeth and wait it out. But with an entire class dedicated to one topic, if I find it uninteresting, I'm pretty much stuck.

Still, I am looking forward to trying something new. I'll let you know how it goes.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Things That Make Me Happy, A Continuing Saga

Things that make me happy:
1. Movie trailers
2. Bad Christmas Music (Bob Dylan's "Must Be Santa," anyone?)
3. The neverending story that is "John Adams"
4. Meeting people on trains and talking to them for the whole 3 hour ride
5. Getting emails signed "your esteemed friend"
6. Debating international conflicts over Facebook chat
7. Snow on the mountains
8. Sweet potatoes
9. Sleeping in a sweatshirt and socks
10. The fact that I'll be home in a month

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Sweet, Sweet Justification



You see that? IT'S NOT WEIRD THAT I READ LITTLE WOMEN ONCE A YEAR. IT'S NOT!

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

What a Letter Means

I got a letter today. A miraculous letter that stuck its white corner out of my postbox. Even that corner looked like a miracle.

Last night I had to turn someone down, which is always a horrible experience. I usually tread softly around these things, but last night I decided that the only way to bring a sense of finality was to be honest. I wasn't cruel; I simply said that I wasn't looking for a relationship, but thank you for the offer. My friends, who I had consulted about the whole thing (I'm a consulter; I know this about myself), applauded my efforts, saying that honesty is always best, saying that the cruelest thing, really, is to give someone false hope.

I went to bed decently contented, and woke up horrified. This someone, you see, is the sensitive sort. The sort that maybe shouldn't have to contend with honesty all the time. The sort who maybe just wanted my friendship more than anything else. And I, tall and terrible, made brave by Facebook, tromped all over any semblance of hope or promise. I woke up thinking that I should have just gone to dinner with this someone. I should have talked with him, really talked and really listened. I should have seen this as an opportunity to get to know him better, instead of running scared at the prospect of him liking me in a different way than I like him.

So that letter, as I'm sure you can now imagine, meant a lot today. It meant so much, in fact, that I couldn't even bring myself to open it. I had things to do today; studying, running, classes, etc., and I didn't want any trivial thing getting in the way of my letter. I waited 12 hours to open it, until just now, when I was properly in bed and comfortable, with no German grammar tugging at my conscience.

It was beautiful, that letter. Blissful. I cried twice. Not because of anything sad, but because it means everything to get something from home. I know I've mentioned this before, but it's still true. The very hardest part about being here is that there isn't anyone who knows me, really really knows me, within 5,000 miles. And this letter made me cry because it reminded me that 5,001 miles away, there is someone who knows me. And they wrote me a letter.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Two Stories

I have a few stories for you. Story No. 1 : Sprechen Sie Englisch?

Some nice young man just came up to where I'm sitting fiddling around on Mac, and started speaking to me in rapid-fire German.
Here is what I do when I hear rapid-fire German:
1. I don't interrupt (even to tell them I don't understand; it seems rude).
2. I try to erase the deer-in-headlights look I know is probably plastered on my face
3. I throw in a few nods for good measure
4. I try to pick out words I actually recognize to see if I can get a general grasp
5. When the person finishes, I give a little laugh to see if he/she was just quipping. If they look confused, I set in with the "Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

Anyway, it turns out that the poor guy just wanted to know if there is a place where he can smoke indoors.

Story No. 2: Karma's a...Well, You Know

Ever since I've left America, I've been finding money. This, I realize, is a strange concept coming from someone who is horribly unlucky at cards, someone who is a terribly distracted driver, and someone to whom generally ridiculous things always seem to happen (ex: getting pooped on by a pigeon whilst in Venice. Don't make me tell that story, please).

But, despite the various scientific arguments against my newfound lucky streak, there it was all the same. In the Toronto airport, on my very first day of travel, I found about $10 of Canadian money lying on the floor. In Venice, I found a 5 Euro bill drifting between walkers' feet on the sidewalk. In Berlin, I found 15 cents lodged between cobblestones at the zoo.

Before you ask me to buy your next lottery ticket, let me tell you what happened to me this morning. I went for a run (yes, yes, still working on that. I want to do a 5K in the spring with my Mom and sister, so I have an actual goal now). Before going for said run, I stuffed a 20 Euro bill in my shoe, thinking I could stop at the grocery store on my way back (the Special K addiction marches on). You already know where this is going, don't you?

When I got to the grocery store, so very excited at the prospect of cereal and milk for breakfast instead of the Nutella-smeared toast they offer at hostels, I bent down to retrieve my cash, only to discover that it was gone. It had fallen out somewhere along my route. Although it was a windy day, and although there had been dozens of other people biking/walking the same path as me, I still went back to look.

No luck, dear readers. I can only attempt to console myself by viewing this as a mere $4.85 loss. Doesn't help much (I really, really, wanted that cereal).