Everyone has moments of clarity in their life.
Some people probably have theirs atop mountains and on tropical islands.
Mine tend to happen on buses, during rush hour, when the driver slams on his brakes.
It is then that the real "aha" moment comes: I realize that my body is hurtling into thin air, and that I've neglected to secure a proper handhold.
And so I tumble to the floor, landing, as only I can land, on my butt with my feet in the air.
As I pull myself upright (against the dead weight of a Finals Week backpack, I might add), I begin to laugh hysterically. And the Austrians on the bus are staring at me politely, probably hoping that the crazy American girl will get off at the next stop, and my friend is contorting her face, deciding whether to laugh or look sympathetic, and when my stop finally comes I give everyone on the bus a big smile and make my exit.
Two hours later Salzburg receives her first snow of the winter, and 2.5 hours later I discover a large bruise on my arm.
I decide these are reasons enough to put off my Literature paper for yet another evening.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Ultimate
Have I ever told you about Ultimate Frisbee?
I probably should now, because the sport makes me so, so happy. In every way.
I was going to sign up for badminton, or volleyball, or basketball, but by the time I got to the registration office, everything was full. Every sports class I had ever dreamed of taking was full, leaving me to take the one class I had never dreamed of taking.
Ultimate, of course.
And I love it. I loved it from the first day, when I could hardly throw a frisbee, to the second day, when we all discovered that I can catch. Not to brag, but I can catch, my friends. I attribute this talent to many years of tossing footballs and softballs (no frisbees) around the front yard with my Dad. Our coach proclaimed me the wide receiver, and I went home happy.
The best part of Ultimate, however, is not the sport itself. It's the people. I'm one of four Americans on the team (the other three are some AIFS buddies of mine), and the rest are Austrians. Frisbee came during a time when I was really feeling down about being in Salzburg. I felt like I didn't have any friends, my roommate treated me like the devil's spawn (well, not everything has changed), and I was desperately, daily, gut-wrenchingly homesick. And then I'd go to Ultimate, and I would be on a team. And everyone would be helping everyone and making jokes and speaking a confused mix of German and English and I felt like I fit in without a hitch.
I was worried initially that since so many people on the team are really good players, they would grow impatient with my sorry incompetence and shun me forever. They did not do this. Everyone has been helpful and friendly. They even refrain from laughing when I fall on my butt, legs up in the air (which, let's be honest, happens at least two times every practice).
And sure, I'm still not the best player out there. Like I said, my catching is fairly good, but my throwing definitely needs some work. I'm still getting used to using my wrist instead of my entire arm, and I currently can only throw backhand. But I have glorious amounts of fun on the field.
Tonight it was my friend Maggie's (an AIFS kid) birthday. We had talked about it casually at the last practice, and I guess everyone remembered, because two different team members showed up with baked goods to share. Let me tell you that eating a piece of raspberry cream sponge cake and a piece of brownie, and then running two large laps around the field is not a fantastic idea. But it sure is delicious.
Anyway, we all sang to Maggie, and she blew out a candle, and then we did our drills and scrimmaged for an hour. And then we ate more cake.
And now I'm back in Internationales Kolleg (my dorm), sitting with Mac on my lap. I'm still in my Ultimate clothes. I should probably take a shower, but I don't really want to. I don't really want to wash this evening off yet.
I probably should now, because the sport makes me so, so happy. In every way.
I was going to sign up for badminton, or volleyball, or basketball, but by the time I got to the registration office, everything was full. Every sports class I had ever dreamed of taking was full, leaving me to take the one class I had never dreamed of taking.
Ultimate, of course.
And I love it. I loved it from the first day, when I could hardly throw a frisbee, to the second day, when we all discovered that I can catch. Not to brag, but I can catch, my friends. I attribute this talent to many years of tossing footballs and softballs (no frisbees) around the front yard with my Dad. Our coach proclaimed me the wide receiver, and I went home happy.
The best part of Ultimate, however, is not the sport itself. It's the people. I'm one of four Americans on the team (the other three are some AIFS buddies of mine), and the rest are Austrians. Frisbee came during a time when I was really feeling down about being in Salzburg. I felt like I didn't have any friends, my roommate treated me like the devil's spawn (well, not everything has changed), and I was desperately, daily, gut-wrenchingly homesick. And then I'd go to Ultimate, and I would be on a team. And everyone would be helping everyone and making jokes and speaking a confused mix of German and English and I felt like I fit in without a hitch.
I was worried initially that since so many people on the team are really good players, they would grow impatient with my sorry incompetence and shun me forever. They did not do this. Everyone has been helpful and friendly. They even refrain from laughing when I fall on my butt, legs up in the air (which, let's be honest, happens at least two times every practice).
And sure, I'm still not the best player out there. Like I said, my catching is fairly good, but my throwing definitely needs some work. I'm still getting used to using my wrist instead of my entire arm, and I currently can only throw backhand. But I have glorious amounts of fun on the field.
Tonight it was my friend Maggie's (an AIFS kid) birthday. We had talked about it casually at the last practice, and I guess everyone remembered, because two different team members showed up with baked goods to share. Let me tell you that eating a piece of raspberry cream sponge cake and a piece of brownie, and then running two large laps around the field is not a fantastic idea. But it sure is delicious.
Anyway, we all sang to Maggie, and she blew out a candle, and then we did our drills and scrimmaged for an hour. And then we ate more cake.
And now I'm back in Internationales Kolleg (my dorm), sitting with Mac on my lap. I'm still in my Ultimate clothes. I should probably take a shower, but I don't really want to. I don't really want to wash this evening off yet.
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.
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.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
In Which Kevin and Perry Force My Hand
I don't know if I can do it, you guys. Maybe Morris has spoiled me too much, or maybe my childhood was too sheltered, or maybe I'm just not the right kind of person. But I don't know if I can be friends with these people.
They're so judgmental, and so unfriendly towards anyone who's even the least bit different.
For example, one guy in our group, Kevin (name has been changed), is a talker, and can be a little obnoxious about it. He doesn't try to be; in fact, I think it's obvious that he means well, and that that he's trying to be impressive and outgoing in order to make friends, but evidently the other people in the group don't see it that way. They mock him constantly. They spent the whole two and a half hour bus ride today baiting him with ridiculous questions, and then video recording his equally ridiculous answers so they could laugh at him later. As we got on the bus for the ride back, there was actually a small argument between two boys over who had to ride next to Kevin. And Kevin was sitting right there.
Later on, I was walking home from the bus stop with a group of kids from my dorm, and they were making fun of yet another guy in our group, Perry, who's from Texas, and is a perfectly nice, friendly person. But evidently he doesn't drink. Evidently he had a glass of wine with dinner tonight, but evidently that wasn't good enough. Evidently a mere glass of wine is grounds for eternal damnation. They were talking about making fun of Sam Houston, or bringing up the loss of the Alamo in front of Perry just to make him angry. (Yes, I will admit that the Sam Houston thing was kind of clever, but definitely not humorous in this context). Furthermore, I happen to know (and they knew as well) that it's Perry's birthday today, and that he's far from home and his friends and family. What kind of people trash talk someone on his birthday? In fact, what kind of people in a study abroad program trash talk other people in the same study abroad program? Aren't we supposed to be in the same boat here? Didn't we come to Salzburg to immerse ourselves in something new, instead of settling back into our middle school bad habits? Aren't we adults now? Aren't we strong and independent and beyond such pettiness?
Anyway, I don't think I exaggerated with the above stories, and I don't think I'll be exaggerating when I say that I'm literally on a precipice: I can either compromise all that I believe about people, and how they do and don't deserve to be treated, or I can spend the next few months being largely shunned by my entire study abroad group. I can either drink myself into a stupor every night at Shamrock's, or I can sit alone in my room with my laptop and Jane Austen.
I'm not a perfect person, and I'm sure I'm not handling this perfectly, but I'm choosing the latters.
I may be lonely sometimes, and I may be homesick sometimes, and I may at times wish that I had chosen a different program with different people, but this is where I am, and this is how I need to be.
Somewhere deep down in the stubbornest part of my being, I know that I can't be anyone else, and that I can't do things any differently.
And I'm not suffering, really I'm not; I have two really great friends here that I can do things with, and there are a few other members of my group whom I would like to get to know better. Salzburg is beautiful, Austria is divine, my German is improving, and classes start tomorrow.
Life is mostly good, as always, and I'm sorry that you have to see the bad parts, dear readers.
Stay gold. I'll be trying.
They're so judgmental, and so unfriendly towards anyone who's even the least bit different.
For example, one guy in our group, Kevin (name has been changed), is a talker, and can be a little obnoxious about it. He doesn't try to be; in fact, I think it's obvious that he means well, and that that he's trying to be impressive and outgoing in order to make friends, but evidently the other people in the group don't see it that way. They mock him constantly. They spent the whole two and a half hour bus ride today baiting him with ridiculous questions, and then video recording his equally ridiculous answers so they could laugh at him later. As we got on the bus for the ride back, there was actually a small argument between two boys over who had to ride next to Kevin. And Kevin was sitting right there.
Later on, I was walking home from the bus stop with a group of kids from my dorm, and they were making fun of yet another guy in our group, Perry, who's from Texas, and is a perfectly nice, friendly person. But evidently he doesn't drink. Evidently he had a glass of wine with dinner tonight, but evidently that wasn't good enough. Evidently a mere glass of wine is grounds for eternal damnation. They were talking about making fun of Sam Houston, or bringing up the loss of the Alamo in front of Perry just to make him angry. (Yes, I will admit that the Sam Houston thing was kind of clever, but definitely not humorous in this context). Furthermore, I happen to know (and they knew as well) that it's Perry's birthday today, and that he's far from home and his friends and family. What kind of people trash talk someone on his birthday? In fact, what kind of people in a study abroad program trash talk other people in the same study abroad program? Aren't we supposed to be in the same boat here? Didn't we come to Salzburg to immerse ourselves in something new, instead of settling back into our middle school bad habits? Aren't we adults now? Aren't we strong and independent and beyond such pettiness?
Anyway, I don't think I exaggerated with the above stories, and I don't think I'll be exaggerating when I say that I'm literally on a precipice: I can either compromise all that I believe about people, and how they do and don't deserve to be treated, or I can spend the next few months being largely shunned by my entire study abroad group. I can either drink myself into a stupor every night at Shamrock's, or I can sit alone in my room with my laptop and Jane Austen.
I'm not a perfect person, and I'm sure I'm not handling this perfectly, but I'm choosing the latters.
I may be lonely sometimes, and I may be homesick sometimes, and I may at times wish that I had chosen a different program with different people, but this is where I am, and this is how I need to be.
Somewhere deep down in the stubbornest part of my being, I know that I can't be anyone else, and that I can't do things any differently.
And I'm not suffering, really I'm not; I have two really great friends here that I can do things with, and there are a few other members of my group whom I would like to get to know better. Salzburg is beautiful, Austria is divine, my German is improving, and classes start tomorrow.
Life is mostly good, as always, and I'm sorry that you have to see the bad parts, dear readers.
Stay gold. I'll be trying.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Salzburged
Some funny things about living in Austria:
1. Every time I have to make an interaction with a native German speaker, whether it be to buy a bus ticket, order lunch, or simply to apologize for a random act of clumsiness, I think of said interaction like a game: let's see how long I can keep them believing that I am also a native speaker. Usually not long. But I'm getting better.
2. I am now utterly and completely unimpressed with the Alps. What? I can see a mountain from my dorm room window? Ho hum.
3. This is not a good place for people with a sweet tooth to live. It's downright dangerous. Must take brisk walks/slow jogs daily in retaliation.
4. Since I'm (sort of) a native now, I'm quickly becoming annoyed by tourists. Dear large group of 60 plus-ers: please take your umpteenth picture of Mozart's birthplace and quit blocking the sidewalk. Danke schön. (Sorry if this sounds mean, but those darn tour groups almost made me late for class this morning; their bulky cameras and fanny packs forced me to practically crawl along the street in order to keep moving.)
5. Almost every single person in my group (that is, other members of my study abroad program) goes out drinking every night. Every single night. Drunk. Stumbling home at 7 a.m. as I'm walking the opposite way, heading to class. Ergo, I have not made many friends as of yet. Because although I'm now legal, and although I'm certainly not opposed to having a drink now and then (not that I really have yet), I also firmly believe that the majority of one's fun, whether alone or with a group, should be had sober. I mean, if you're drunk, you're not really having fun. The chemicals poisoning your liver are. And I don't know if they should be having that much fun, especially when in close proximity to a vital organ.
Come on guys, can't we just play Sardines instead?
I miss Morris.
6. It's so incredibly beautiful here, but I think about home and the people back home ALL THE TIME. I'll be looking at something, and all of the sudden I'll think, "Jeez, my Dad would enjoy this retired WWII tanker. He would probably make me spend hours touring it with him, because he always has to read EVERY SINGLE THING in EVERY SINGLE DISPLAY." And then I'll shake my head and remember that I'm supposed to be independent and grownup and I'm supposed to be making new friends and sharing things with them. And then I'll remember that my dorm room currently smells like a brewery and I'll feel a little bit of despair because I don't know if I want that kind of friend.
And then I'll get really snobby and decide that I already have enough friends back home. Why do I need more?
And then I'll sit in my room by myself, stare at the wall, and think, "Oh. That's why."
Don't get me wrong; I love it in Salzburg. I just wish I had some good people to love it with.
Stay gold, guys. And maybe send some my way. I'm the one reading Northanger Abbey in Room 330.
1. Every time I have to make an interaction with a native German speaker, whether it be to buy a bus ticket, order lunch, or simply to apologize for a random act of clumsiness, I think of said interaction like a game: let's see how long I can keep them believing that I am also a native speaker. Usually not long. But I'm getting better.
2. I am now utterly and completely unimpressed with the Alps. What? I can see a mountain from my dorm room window? Ho hum.
3. This is not a good place for people with a sweet tooth to live. It's downright dangerous. Must take brisk walks/slow jogs daily in retaliation.
4. Since I'm (sort of) a native now, I'm quickly becoming annoyed by tourists. Dear large group of 60 plus-ers: please take your umpteenth picture of Mozart's birthplace and quit blocking the sidewalk. Danke schön. (Sorry if this sounds mean, but those darn tour groups almost made me late for class this morning; their bulky cameras and fanny packs forced me to practically crawl along the street in order to keep moving.)
5. Almost every single person in my group (that is, other members of my study abroad program) goes out drinking every night. Every single night. Drunk. Stumbling home at 7 a.m. as I'm walking the opposite way, heading to class. Ergo, I have not made many friends as of yet. Because although I'm now legal, and although I'm certainly not opposed to having a drink now and then (not that I really have yet), I also firmly believe that the majority of one's fun, whether alone or with a group, should be had sober. I mean, if you're drunk, you're not really having fun. The chemicals poisoning your liver are. And I don't know if they should be having that much fun, especially when in close proximity to a vital organ.
Come on guys, can't we just play Sardines instead?
I miss Morris.
6. It's so incredibly beautiful here, but I think about home and the people back home ALL THE TIME. I'll be looking at something, and all of the sudden I'll think, "Jeez, my Dad would enjoy this retired WWII tanker. He would probably make me spend hours touring it with him, because he always has to read EVERY SINGLE THING in EVERY SINGLE DISPLAY." And then I'll shake my head and remember that I'm supposed to be independent and grownup and I'm supposed to be making new friends and sharing things with them. And then I'll remember that my dorm room currently smells like a brewery and I'll feel a little bit of despair because I don't know if I want that kind of friend.
And then I'll get really snobby and decide that I already have enough friends back home. Why do I need more?
And then I'll sit in my room by myself, stare at the wall, and think, "Oh. That's why."
Don't get me wrong; I love it in Salzburg. I just wish I had some good people to love it with.
Stay gold, guys. And maybe send some my way. I'm the one reading Northanger Abbey in Room 330.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
In Which I'm Still Working At Target
Hello, blog.
Today I'm feeling a little down. All of my friends are in Morris. Together. Walking the mall and exploring the HFA and shopping the (ridiculously overpriced) bookstore.
And I'm at home, still working at Target.
I don't leave until September 9th, which I may or may not have mentioned. I'm glad that I have the extra time at home to earn more money, to celebrate my birthday, to spend time with my family, but it's a bad feeling to be left behind.
I'm ready for my school year to start, too. Is this how it's going to feel every August once I've graduated from college? Sad and lonely and like I'm missing out on everything? If so, I may have to reconsider going to graduate school. Or live in Morris for the rest of my life. Both valid options.
To all of you lounging in your half-unpacked college dorm rooms right now, I wish you the very best. But is there room on that futon for me? It will only be for a few weeks, I promise.
P.S. I've just returned from renting Jane Eyre (new version) from the local Video Vault. If there's anything that can cheer me up, it's a historical romantic drama adapted from a mid-19th century gothic novel.
Today I'm feeling a little down. All of my friends are in Morris. Together. Walking the mall and exploring the HFA and shopping the (ridiculously overpriced) bookstore.
And I'm at home, still working at Target.
I don't leave until September 9th, which I may or may not have mentioned. I'm glad that I have the extra time at home to earn more money, to celebrate my birthday, to spend time with my family, but it's a bad feeling to be left behind.
I'm ready for my school year to start, too. Is this how it's going to feel every August once I've graduated from college? Sad and lonely and like I'm missing out on everything? If so, I may have to reconsider going to graduate school. Or live in Morris for the rest of my life. Both valid options.
To all of you lounging in your half-unpacked college dorm rooms right now, I wish you the very best. But is there room on that futon for me? It will only be for a few weeks, I promise.
P.S. I've just returned from renting Jane Eyre (new version) from the local Video Vault. If there's anything that can cheer me up, it's a historical romantic drama adapted from a mid-19th century gothic novel.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Important Parts of Last Night
Let me tell you about last night.
Last night was Harry Potter (oh boy, don't tell me you didn't see this one coming).
And it was magnificent.
I mean, there were parts that made me shudder and wonder to myself what the heck were the directors thinking I don't understand why they couldn't stay true to the book here why are they jumping off a cliff good Lord why is Snape clutching a corpse this is bordering on disturbing why didn't they show Percy's big entrance that was one of my favorite parts oh my gosh Ginny please go away you make me sick sometimes.
Or something along those lines.
But I think over all, the movie, just like the book, had the ending that it needed and deserved.
That's really the most important thing, right?
There were other important parts of last night, though.
Like the feeling of complete panic that swept through the theater when the 3D glasses weren't working and everything was blurry. I was literally almost in cardiac arrest when The Man Behind the Curtain finally adjusted the projector correctly and the trailers came into focus.
Like when the Weasley family was mourning Fred and everything was quiet until I began to hear sniffing sounds coming from all around me. The entire theater was crying. The man next to me was crying. The ladywiththemostobnoxiousvoicei'veeverheard behind me was crying (loudly). And I suddenly felt like laughing. Until Harry began his walk towards the Forbidden Forest. Then I stopped laughing and started sniffing myself. I actually fogged up my own 3D glasses and had to wipe them. Not being a glasses-wearer, that was a new experience for me.
Like taking pictures in the lobby of people dressed up as Patronuses and Veela and Freds with bandaged ears and two twin boys with hair sprayed red.
Like when my friend and I had to visit the facilities before the movie. We waited in line for about 10 minutes before we finally got stalls. I was just trying to calculate what my odds of catching an STD from the toilet seat were when I heard my friend yell to me (from across the lavatory): "Holly! We flush ourselves in!" The entire bathroom erupted in echoing, nerdtastic giggles.
Like after the movie, when I decided not to wait for Bea (the GPS) to 'acquire satellite.' I thought I could manage to get home by myself. A sort of deluded Harriet Tubman, I convinced myself that I could find my way North. Apparently, I couldn't. I ended up goodnessknowswhere at 3 in the morning making illegal uturns in quiet neighborhoods and pleading with Bea to help me. She eventually did. Then the problem became keeping myself awake.
Like when I sang every Beatles song I know (which is, forgive me, an awful lot of Beatles songs) at the top of my lungs in order to keep myself awake. I was so tired that my voice was scratchy and pathetic but I made it home okay nonetheless. The dogs were happy to see me.
Yes, it's over. Yes, I'll never see another Harry Potter movie in a theater (unless I go to see this one again, which, let's face it, is highly likely). Yes, before the movie started, I was dreading it starting a little bit. Everyone was. Harry Potter began when we were all young. People have waited for Hogwarts letters, people have waited for the next book, the next movie.
But the waiting is over. It's all here.
I have a Harry Potter book on my lap right now. The Prisoner of Azkaban, because it's my favorite. And I'm thinking about how different it is every time I read these books. How there's always something new. Not because the books have changed, but because I have. And I will.
And as long as there's still that, I don't think anything has ended at all.
Last night was Harry Potter (oh boy, don't tell me you didn't see this one coming).
And it was magnificent.
I mean, there were parts that made me shudder and wonder to myself what the heck were the directors thinking I don't understand why they couldn't stay true to the book here why are they jumping off a cliff good Lord why is Snape clutching a corpse this is bordering on disturbing why didn't they show Percy's big entrance that was one of my favorite parts oh my gosh Ginny please go away you make me sick sometimes.
Or something along those lines.
But I think over all, the movie, just like the book, had the ending that it needed and deserved.
That's really the most important thing, right?
There were other important parts of last night, though.
Like the feeling of complete panic that swept through the theater when the 3D glasses weren't working and everything was blurry. I was literally almost in cardiac arrest when The Man Behind the Curtain finally adjusted the projector correctly and the trailers came into focus.
Like when the Weasley family was mourning Fred and everything was quiet until I began to hear sniffing sounds coming from all around me. The entire theater was crying. The man next to me was crying. The ladywiththemostobnoxiousvoicei'veeverheard behind me was crying (loudly). And I suddenly felt like laughing. Until Harry began his walk towards the Forbidden Forest. Then I stopped laughing and started sniffing myself. I actually fogged up my own 3D glasses and had to wipe them. Not being a glasses-wearer, that was a new experience for me.
Like taking pictures in the lobby of people dressed up as Patronuses and Veela and Freds with bandaged ears and two twin boys with hair sprayed red.
Like when my friend and I had to visit the facilities before the movie. We waited in line for about 10 minutes before we finally got stalls. I was just trying to calculate what my odds of catching an STD from the toilet seat were when I heard my friend yell to me (from across the lavatory): "Holly! We flush ourselves in!" The entire bathroom erupted in echoing, nerdtastic giggles.
Like after the movie, when I decided not to wait for Bea (the GPS) to 'acquire satellite.' I thought I could manage to get home by myself. A sort of deluded Harriet Tubman, I convinced myself that I could find my way North. Apparently, I couldn't. I ended up goodnessknowswhere at 3 in the morning making illegal uturns in quiet neighborhoods and pleading with Bea to help me. She eventually did. Then the problem became keeping myself awake.
Like when I sang every Beatles song I know (which is, forgive me, an awful lot of Beatles songs) at the top of my lungs in order to keep myself awake. I was so tired that my voice was scratchy and pathetic but I made it home okay nonetheless. The dogs were happy to see me.
Yes, it's over. Yes, I'll never see another Harry Potter movie in a theater (unless I go to see this one again, which, let's face it, is highly likely). Yes, before the movie started, I was dreading it starting a little bit. Everyone was. Harry Potter began when we were all young. People have waited for Hogwarts letters, people have waited for the next book, the next movie.
But the waiting is over. It's all here.
I have a Harry Potter book on my lap right now. The Prisoner of Azkaban, because it's my favorite. And I'm thinking about how different it is every time I read these books. How there's always something new. Not because the books have changed, but because I have. And I will.
And as long as there's still that, I don't think anything has ended at all.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Non-Morose Activities
I guess my last few posts have been kind of morose. But I'm not morose anymore, I swear!
To prove it, here are some non-morose activities I've engaged in this weekend:
1. Shopping at MOA with my mother and sister. Now, don't get the wrong impression. I hate shopping for clothes. I do. But I like clothes, and I really needed them. So off we went. And it turned out pretty well. My sister is a master bargain shopper, so we had fun digging through racks of 50% off in Gap and Banana Republic and other stores that I would probably never pay full price in because Good Lord I don't want to end up destitute in the middle of Europe this Fall.
2. Graduation parties. I attended 3 total this weekend, and they were all really great. It's always a little awkward to do the mingling-small-talk thing, but I think that's unavoidable at any party.
3. Lock-in with 50+ sugared-up, sleep-deprived 1st-8th graders. My darling mother (a teacher at the school where the lock-in was held) volunteered to take charge of the gym activities. Amy and I went along to help and ended up playing Medic*** for 3+ hours. It was a lot of fun, but it was also a bit of a shock for me because
a) holy cow I've been sore for the past three days
and
b) when did kids get so mean? I love kids, but I don't love them so much when they're screaming at each other (and me) about who should be the medic, and who is too terrible at life and at all things athletic to be medic. Amy, who is the most even-tempered person I know, spent half the night whipping balls at this one 5th grader who was being an absolute jerk. He was throwing balls back at her, but man, Amy has an arm, and what's more, she was MAD. Forgive me, but it was fun to watch.
4. Work. Always, always work. I still love working at Target, but sometimes I feel like I come off as kind of a bonehead because I always have to ask questions and I always have these embarrassing space cadet moments (mostly stemming, I would like to point out, from lack of sleep). Sometimes I want to scream for the whole store to hear that I'm an Honors student, that I go to Morris, that I can do a mean crossword puzzle. But I guess I'd rather come off as stupid than crazy.
***Here's Medic for those of you who had slightly joyless childhoods: the gym is divided in half, 1 team on either side. A million of those soft, foam-filled balls are released. Each team throws balls at the other team, trying to hit them. Once you're hit, you have to sit down, and you cannot get up until your team's designated medic touches your shoulder and 'heals' you. If one of the medics is hit by a ball, they also have to sit down, and can't get up again until they manage to hit someone on the other team (from their sitting position). A team wins when all of the opposing team's players are down, including their medic.
To prove it, here are some non-morose activities I've engaged in this weekend:
1. Shopping at MOA with my mother and sister. Now, don't get the wrong impression. I hate shopping for clothes. I do. But I like clothes, and I really needed them. So off we went. And it turned out pretty well. My sister is a master bargain shopper, so we had fun digging through racks of 50% off in Gap and Banana Republic and other stores that I would probably never pay full price in because Good Lord I don't want to end up destitute in the middle of Europe this Fall.
2. Graduation parties. I attended 3 total this weekend, and they were all really great. It's always a little awkward to do the mingling-small-talk thing, but I think that's unavoidable at any party.
3. Lock-in with 50+ sugared-up, sleep-deprived 1st-8th graders. My darling mother (a teacher at the school where the lock-in was held) volunteered to take charge of the gym activities. Amy and I went along to help and ended up playing Medic*** for 3+ hours. It was a lot of fun, but it was also a bit of a shock for me because
a) holy cow I've been sore for the past three days
and
b) when did kids get so mean? I love kids, but I don't love them so much when they're screaming at each other (and me) about who should be the medic, and who is too terrible at life and at all things athletic to be medic. Amy, who is the most even-tempered person I know, spent half the night whipping balls at this one 5th grader who was being an absolute jerk. He was throwing balls back at her, but man, Amy has an arm, and what's more, she was MAD. Forgive me, but it was fun to watch.
4. Work. Always, always work. I still love working at Target, but sometimes I feel like I come off as kind of a bonehead because I always have to ask questions and I always have these embarrassing space cadet moments (mostly stemming, I would like to point out, from lack of sleep). Sometimes I want to scream for the whole store to hear that I'm an Honors student, that I go to Morris, that I can do a mean crossword puzzle. But I guess I'd rather come off as stupid than crazy.
***Here's Medic for those of you who had slightly joyless childhoods: the gym is divided in half, 1 team on either side. A million of those soft, foam-filled balls are released. Each team throws balls at the other team, trying to hit them. Once you're hit, you have to sit down, and you cannot get up until your team's designated medic touches your shoulder and 'heals' you. If one of the medics is hit by a ball, they also have to sit down, and can't get up again until they manage to hit someone on the other team (from their sitting position). A team wins when all of the opposing team's players are down, including their medic.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Throwback Thursday
I suddenly thought that I’d like to run the rest of the way. It was a breezy night, not dark enough to be creepy, but dark enough to be powerful.
And then we were off running, me clutching my hood up around my face with both hands, Maddie holding her jacket closed against the wind.
As we ran I turned to her, because I couldn’t remember: “Hey Mad, did I start running, or did you?”
“You did, I think.”
“Did I? It’s funny, because the split second after I had the idea that I’d like to run, we were running, and I didn’t know who set us going.”
She laughed at me, and we continued on towards the Tweet Spot, laughing at ourselves for running towards 11 pm junk food, and at the prospect of being spotted from a dorm window, and at the largeness of the night, and how hilariously small we were within it.
And then we were off running, me clutching my hood up around my face with both hands, Maddie holding her jacket closed against the wind.
As we ran I turned to her, because I couldn’t remember: “Hey Mad, did I start running, or did you?”
“You did, I think.”
“Did I? It’s funny, because the split second after I had the idea that I’d like to run, we were running, and I didn’t know who set us going.”
She laughed at me, and we continued on towards the Tweet Spot, laughing at ourselves for running towards 11 pm junk food, and at the prospect of being spotted from a dorm window, and at the largeness of the night, and how hilariously small we were within it.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Things Get Better For Me
Sorry sorry sorry. I know I'm a slacker. But pray believe me when I tell you (with one trustworthy hand on your shoulder) that this week has been a tough week for me.
I've laughed.
I've cried.
I've done both synonymously.
I wish I were joking about the synonymously.
I had three tests this week: American Literature, Art History, and German.
The first two went well, the third I didn't take because
I gave blood on Thursday evening
And then had a slight mental breakdown
And wasn't able to study for said German exam.
I don't know if mental breakdown is what I should call what I had, and I certainly don't like writing 'mental breakdown' because it makes me sound like some sort of basket case. But what else do you call it when you're in the middle of a doubles badminton game, and suddenly you start getting really stressed out and you begin to swing back and forth between laughing and crying?
(I'm usually not a very competitive person. Sure, I like to win, but I think it's incredibly rude and tacky to act rude and tacky when it comes to competitions. So I try to behave in a more dignified manner.)
But let me tell you, I was slightly freaking out during this game of badminton. Within the space of about 3 minutes I moodswung back and forth between laughing and almost sobbing about 5 times. I also seriously considered running over and yelling at people that I hardly knew for doing things that were hardly offensive to me. Then my trusty partner and I walked back to our room and I sat on my bed and cried for a good half hour.
And I don't think it had anything to do with the badminton. I'm going to blame this one on the blood loss and lack of sleep and test stress.
Things have gotten better, though. Last night our friend Ben came up from the cities, and we all went to the on-campus Rooney concert together. I decided after the concert that the kind of music Rooney makes just isn't to my taste, but that it was fun nonetheless. Live concerts usually are.
After the concert, Ben, Maddie, and I settled down in our room with some snacks and Ben's old (and terrible) horror movies and watched and ate until we fell asleep.
This morning was the Prairie Cup, which is a Ground Quidditch tournament. UMM played the U of MN Twin Cities team. It was so cold on the bleachers, but so worth it to watch a cross country runner in gold spandex act as the snitch and run all over campus evading the two seekers. It was so worth it to watch the chasers and beaters and keepers get mud-splattered as they knocked each other around in Indy Lake (which isn't really a lake-more like a large hollow that they flood in the winter for broomball). It was so worth it to hear the announcers announce "prospies!" and then to turn around and cheer at the tour groups as they walked by. I'm certain that if I had been touring a college campus and had seen a game of Quidditch going on, I would have chosen that college on the spot.
P.S. We got 2 inches of snow last night (Friday, April 15th). On Monday, April 11th, it was 70 degrees out. Huh.
I've laughed.
I've cried.
I've done both synonymously.
I wish I were joking about the synonymously.
I had three tests this week: American Literature, Art History, and German.
The first two went well, the third I didn't take because
I gave blood on Thursday evening
And then had a slight mental breakdown
And wasn't able to study for said German exam.
I don't know if mental breakdown is what I should call what I had, and I certainly don't like writing 'mental breakdown' because it makes me sound like some sort of basket case. But what else do you call it when you're in the middle of a doubles badminton game, and suddenly you start getting really stressed out and you begin to swing back and forth between laughing and crying?
(I'm usually not a very competitive person. Sure, I like to win, but I think it's incredibly rude and tacky to act rude and tacky when it comes to competitions. So I try to behave in a more dignified manner.)
But let me tell you, I was slightly freaking out during this game of badminton. Within the space of about 3 minutes I moodswung back and forth between laughing and almost sobbing about 5 times. I also seriously considered running over and yelling at people that I hardly knew for doing things that were hardly offensive to me. Then my trusty partner and I walked back to our room and I sat on my bed and cried for a good half hour.
And I don't think it had anything to do with the badminton. I'm going to blame this one on the blood loss and lack of sleep and test stress.
Things have gotten better, though. Last night our friend Ben came up from the cities, and we all went to the on-campus Rooney concert together. I decided after the concert that the kind of music Rooney makes just isn't to my taste, but that it was fun nonetheless. Live concerts usually are.
After the concert, Ben, Maddie, and I settled down in our room with some snacks and Ben's old (and terrible) horror movies and watched and ate until we fell asleep.
This morning was the Prairie Cup, which is a Ground Quidditch tournament. UMM played the U of MN Twin Cities team. It was so cold on the bleachers, but so worth it to watch a cross country runner in gold spandex act as the snitch and run all over campus evading the two seekers. It was so worth it to watch the chasers and beaters and keepers get mud-splattered as they knocked each other around in Indy Lake (which isn't really a lake-more like a large hollow that they flood in the winter for broomball). It was so worth it to hear the announcers announce "prospies!" and then to turn around and cheer at the tour groups as they walked by. I'm certain that if I had been touring a college campus and had seen a game of Quidditch going on, I would have chosen that college on the spot.
P.S. We got 2 inches of snow last night (Friday, April 15th). On Monday, April 11th, it was 70 degrees out. Huh.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Drag Show
I ask you:
How many of you spend four and a half hours in tech fee hearings
(and while it is great that students get so much power,
allocating 150,000 dollars and all)
and by the end feel tired enough to drop?
Then comes a shoulder tap
From behind left,
where Elizabeth sits.
Keep your chin up, Holly, she says,
and I smile and say I'll try
and I do,
perhaps mostly because someone noticed my chin was drooping
and that makes all the difference.
I ask you:
Have you ever exited such a stuffy, four and a half hour room
and gone to E-Quality's Annual Drag Show?
Probably not.
I didn't know what to think
when I first entered Edson Auditorium, past a boy in my German class
who was suddenly transformed into
a convincing woman
with red bra, red lipstick, and taffy blonde hair.
The whole campus (practically) was there in that auditorium,
and the majority was in drag
and crazy because when you're dressed up you can do anything
walk walk fashion baby work it move that thing crazy
act after act after act
boys and girls dressed up like girls and boys
lip syncing to songs that made the audience gasp and shriek and laugh
and run up with dollar bills to shove down the performers' shirts
or in their pockets
(because that's what you were supposed to do)
(it was part of the fun)
the judging was two staff members two professors
(one of whom is my dignified advisor)
and our very own Chancellor.
And throughout the crowd was pulsing with excitement
young and alive and wonderful
because sometimes people die,
but not tonight.
There was a joke an MC told:
today was admitted student day, and he said that it was fun
to watch the faces of the admitted students
(and their parents)
as they walked past the table advertising the Drag Show.
We all roared with laughter at that
Because they'll find out soon enough
That UMM is a pulsing campus
That attends Drag Shows
and pulls your chin back up from your chest
when it falls.
Where else can you get that, I ask you.
How many of you spend four and a half hours in tech fee hearings
(and while it is great that students get so much power,
allocating 150,000 dollars and all)
and by the end feel tired enough to drop?
Then comes a shoulder tap
From behind left,
where Elizabeth sits.
Keep your chin up, Holly, she says,
and I smile and say I'll try
and I do,
perhaps mostly because someone noticed my chin was drooping
and that makes all the difference.
I ask you:
Have you ever exited such a stuffy, four and a half hour room
and gone to E-Quality's Annual Drag Show?
Probably not.
I didn't know what to think
when I first entered Edson Auditorium, past a boy in my German class
who was suddenly transformed into
a convincing woman
with red bra, red lipstick, and taffy blonde hair.
The whole campus (practically) was there in that auditorium,
and the majority was in drag
and crazy because when you're dressed up you can do anything
walk walk fashion baby work it move that thing crazy
act after act after act
boys and girls dressed up like girls and boys
lip syncing to songs that made the audience gasp and shriek and laugh
and run up with dollar bills to shove down the performers' shirts
or in their pockets
(because that's what you were supposed to do)
(it was part of the fun)
the judging was two staff members two professors
(one of whom is my dignified advisor)
and our very own Chancellor.
And throughout the crowd was pulsing with excitement
young and alive and wonderful
because sometimes people die,
but not tonight.
There was a joke an MC told:
today was admitted student day, and he said that it was fun
to watch the faces of the admitted students
(and their parents)
as they walked past the table advertising the Drag Show.
We all roared with laughter at that
Because they'll find out soon enough
That UMM is a pulsing campus
That attends Drag Shows
and pulls your chin back up from your chest
when it falls.
Where else can you get that, I ask you.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Some Advice From Mr. Lincoln
My favorite quote of all time (and this is difficult, because I adore quotes) is from Abraham Lincoln: "When you look for the worst in mankind, expecting to find it, you surely will."
It's also from Pollyanna, but I don't tell people that.
I was thinking about this quote today as I was puttering around my room attempting to clear away used Kleenex and blobs of NyQuil. I was thinking that it's very easy to notice something about another person, a negative quality, or a habit you don't like, and then to become completely consumed by it. Suddenly, whenever you're around that person, all you can think about is that one thing (selfishness, bragging, mouth breathing, etc.). Everything they do somehow lines up into your established perception of them. It's almost astounding how wrapped up in prejudice you can become. Soon you can hardly bear to be in their presence. They have absolutely nothing more to offer you besides that bad thing.
I've lost a few friends to this horrific spiral, and it wasn't until afterward that I realized what had happened. Sure, that one quality about them annoyed me. Sure, it made me not want to be friends with them so much. But was it really them, or was it just me? If I had simply forced myself to step back and look at the big picture, would I have seen something different?
Mr. Lincoln would probably say yes. Actually, I think he would first fix me with one of those x-ray, I-saved-the-United-States-now-what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-YOUR-life stares that make you feel wretchedly petty, and then he would quirk one bushy eyebrow. And that would mean yes.
It's also from Pollyanna, but I don't tell people that.
I was thinking about this quote today as I was puttering around my room attempting to clear away used Kleenex and blobs of NyQuil. I was thinking that it's very easy to notice something about another person, a negative quality, or a habit you don't like, and then to become completely consumed by it. Suddenly, whenever you're around that person, all you can think about is that one thing (selfishness, bragging, mouth breathing, etc.). Everything they do somehow lines up into your established perception of them. It's almost astounding how wrapped up in prejudice you can become. Soon you can hardly bear to be in their presence. They have absolutely nothing more to offer you besides that bad thing.
I've lost a few friends to this horrific spiral, and it wasn't until afterward that I realized what had happened. Sure, that one quality about them annoyed me. Sure, it made me not want to be friends with them so much. But was it really them, or was it just me? If I had simply forced myself to step back and look at the big picture, would I have seen something different?
Mr. Lincoln would probably say yes. Actually, I think he would first fix me with one of those x-ray, I-saved-the-United-States-now-what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-YOUR-life stares that make you feel wretchedly petty, and then he would quirk one bushy eyebrow. And that would mean yes.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Capital, Capital
Today was the Rally to Restore Affordability at the Minnesota State Capitol Building in St. Paul.
It was a long bus ride
But worth it to see this
And this (inside of the Capitol Building)
We went exploring in the bowels of the Capitol and found...
Jesse Ventura!!
Look at all that green! (Those were our UMM shirts-we had 99 people come, which is way more people than any of the other (bigger) U of MN campuses had)
Later on came the speakers. Here's Governor Mark Dayton (who I was within a few feet of)
And our very own Josh Preston (who blew all the other speakers out of the water)
I tried out the benches around the Rotunda (not so comfortable)
Me and the capital Capitol
It was a long bus ride
But worth it to see this
And this (inside of the Capitol Building)
We went exploring in the bowels of the Capitol and found...
Jesse Ventura!!
Look at all that green! (Those were our UMM shirts-we had 99 people come, which is way more people than any of the other (bigger) U of MN campuses had)
Later on came the speakers. Here's Governor Mark Dayton (who I was within a few feet of)
And our very own Josh Preston (who blew all the other speakers out of the water)
I tried out the benches around the Rotunda (not so comfortable)
Me and the capital Capitol
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Holly and the Clue to the Half Mast Flag
It's a busy day for me: 2 meetings, 2 different shifts for 2 different jobs, plus class and Pickleball club (later).
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Weekend Update
Here's what's going on with me right now:
1. I want to study abroad in Salzburg. I want to so very, very badly, but of course there are things to think about like money and credits. And money.
2. I went to talk to my advisor yesterday about me prospectively studying abroad, and how I was worried about the fact that I've never taken a journalism class (and probably won't ever at UMM, as it's not a major offered here). I wanted to know if I would have to go to graduate school to study journalism in order to proceed with my career. My advisor assured me that plenty of UMM English majors have gone on to be journalists, and that journalism school isn't really necessary unless I want extra credentials (which would be nice, but if I don't need them, why waste time and money?). Furthermore (and this is where things really got good) my advisor informed me that he had recently received an email from a UMM alum who is the editor of an Arizona newspaper. This editor was wondering if there were any English majors who would be interested in a job at his newspaper. And my advisor gave me his email address, saying that I should contact him, and ask him some of the questions I have about a career in journalism. Can you believe it? I mean, only at UMM can you walk into a prof's office, intending to ask a few questions, and come out with an email address that may lead to an actual job after graduation. A job, my friends! For an English major! My Dad will be so proud.
3. So far the New Year's work out resolution is going swimmingly. My quad has healed (with the help of intense icing (with ice, not with frosting), and my roommate and I have been at the gym almost every single day since Spring Semester began. On Thursday, we went to the first meeting of the newly-formed Pickleball Club. I haven't played Pickleball since middle school gym class, so I struggled a bit at first, but it got easier after a while. The funniest thing was that the club president was standing behind Maddie and I as we played against two other people, and he kept pulling me aside to say things like: "Are you a tennis player or something? Because, no offense, but you just missed the ball by a good two feet." Well, thanks. Thanks very much. And no, I'm not a tennis player. I was simply having some hand-eye-coordination problems. Happens to the best of us.
4. This week I've been watching (whenever I get a chance) the A&E (BBC) version of Pride and Prejudice. You know, the one with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth? I used to think that I infinitely preferred the newer, Keira Knightley P and P, but now I'm not so sure. I think I love them both for different reasons. The A&E is longer, so I think it develops the story a lot better, and gives us time to really get to know the characters. It's also way funnier. I just about die laughing whenever Mary opens her mouth. The Keira version, however, is a lot richer. I think the locations are more authentic, and the filmmaking highlights the story beautifully. (Ex: that scene at the Netherfield Ball when Lizzie and Darcy dance for the first time, and everyone else suddenly disappears. I love that). As for the big Jennifer Ehle/Keira Knightley Elizabeth Bennet showdown? I don't know if I can choose one. Not being overly familiar with the book version of P and P (forgive me, but I have trouble reading Jane Austen unless I'm in a very specific state of mind. Otherwise I get bored), I can't say who is the most Elizabeth Bennet Elizabeth Bennet. They both play her so differently, but both performances in my opinion are equally effective. They both deserve Darcy when they finally get him, and vice versa. And that, I think, is the main point.
1. I want to study abroad in Salzburg. I want to so very, very badly, but of course there are things to think about like money and credits. And money.
2. I went to talk to my advisor yesterday about me prospectively studying abroad, and how I was worried about the fact that I've never taken a journalism class (and probably won't ever at UMM, as it's not a major offered here). I wanted to know if I would have to go to graduate school to study journalism in order to proceed with my career. My advisor assured me that plenty of UMM English majors have gone on to be journalists, and that journalism school isn't really necessary unless I want extra credentials (which would be nice, but if I don't need them, why waste time and money?). Furthermore (and this is where things really got good) my advisor informed me that he had recently received an email from a UMM alum who is the editor of an Arizona newspaper. This editor was wondering if there were any English majors who would be interested in a job at his newspaper. And my advisor gave me his email address, saying that I should contact him, and ask him some of the questions I have about a career in journalism. Can you believe it? I mean, only at UMM can you walk into a prof's office, intending to ask a few questions, and come out with an email address that may lead to an actual job after graduation. A job, my friends! For an English major! My Dad will be so proud.
3. So far the New Year's work out resolution is going swimmingly. My quad has healed (with the help of intense icing (with ice, not with frosting), and my roommate and I have been at the gym almost every single day since Spring Semester began. On Thursday, we went to the first meeting of the newly-formed Pickleball Club. I haven't played Pickleball since middle school gym class, so I struggled a bit at first, but it got easier after a while. The funniest thing was that the club president was standing behind Maddie and I as we played against two other people, and he kept pulling me aside to say things like: "Are you a tennis player or something? Because, no offense, but you just missed the ball by a good two feet." Well, thanks. Thanks very much. And no, I'm not a tennis player. I was simply having some hand-eye-coordination problems. Happens to the best of us.
4. This week I've been watching (whenever I get a chance) the A&E (BBC) version of Pride and Prejudice. You know, the one with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth? I used to think that I infinitely preferred the newer, Keira Knightley P and P, but now I'm not so sure. I think I love them both for different reasons. The A&E is longer, so I think it develops the story a lot better, and gives us time to really get to know the characters. It's also way funnier. I just about die laughing whenever Mary opens her mouth. The Keira version, however, is a lot richer. I think the locations are more authentic, and the filmmaking highlights the story beautifully. (Ex: that scene at the Netherfield Ball when Lizzie and Darcy dance for the first time, and everyone else suddenly disappears. I love that). As for the big Jennifer Ehle/Keira Knightley Elizabeth Bennet showdown? I don't know if I can choose one. Not being overly familiar with the book version of P and P (forgive me, but I have trouble reading Jane Austen unless I'm in a very specific state of mind. Otherwise I get bored), I can't say who is the most Elizabeth Bennet Elizabeth Bennet. They both play her so differently, but both performances in my opinion are equally effective. They both deserve Darcy when they finally get him, and vice versa. And that, I think, is the main point.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Things I'm Thankful For
Happy Thanksgiving. I recall last year (or was it the year before?) I didn't want to talk about Thanksgiving. Not because I don't love it, but because there didn't seem to be anything new to say about it. Same old food, family, gratitude, etc. Rinse and repeat.
The thing is, though, this year the repeat part is what I'm especially thankful for. I'm thankful that we have a tradition like Thanksgiving that is the same year after year.
Right now I'm laying on my back in my old comfy bed. My laptop is propped on my knees. My throat hurts like the dickens. So does my head. Of course I haven't had so much as a sniffle the whole semester at school, but the instant I was home I got sick. So it goes.
I'm thankful for Nyquil. Is it okay for one to be thankful for drugs?
Other things I'm thankful for (besides the obvious (but still important) friends family health food shelter etc):
1. Sweats
2. Books
3. Cousins that aren't so little anymore
4. Dogs
5. Paul McCartney
6. Optimism
7. Garfield comics
8. The color blue
9. Strangers who smile
10. Part time jobs
11. Snow
Goodnight everyone. I'll see you tomorrow for some mad Black Friday shopping. I'll be the red-eyed one toting the Kleenex box. Hopefully I'll be smiling.
The thing is, though, this year the repeat part is what I'm especially thankful for. I'm thankful that we have a tradition like Thanksgiving that is the same year after year.
Right now I'm laying on my back in my old comfy bed. My laptop is propped on my knees. My throat hurts like the dickens. So does my head. Of course I haven't had so much as a sniffle the whole semester at school, but the instant I was home I got sick. So it goes.
I'm thankful for Nyquil. Is it okay for one to be thankful for drugs?
Other things I'm thankful for (besides the obvious (but still important) friends family health food shelter etc):
1. Sweats
2. Books
3. Cousins that aren't so little anymore
4. Dogs
5. Paul McCartney
6. Optimism
7. Garfield comics
8. The color blue
9. Strangers who smile
10. Part time jobs
11. Snow
Goodnight everyone. I'll see you tomorrow for some mad Black Friday shopping. I'll be the red-eyed one toting the Kleenex box. Hopefully I'll be smiling.
Friday, November 12, 2010
A Book I'll Probably Write
I spun as soon as I saw him,
hissed to Maddie and to King:
"I'm not going to sit across the table from him and pretend that everything's normal.
I can't."
Stomped down the stairs
Sat down on the first floor
Abnormally, by myself.
King and Maddie followed
Seated themselves across from me,
good friends they are.
I calmed down shortly,
knowing, perhaps, that this wasn't my battle to fight.
I know this about myself: Sometimes I fight other people's battles just for a chance to fight at all.
But it felt personal to me.
I saw the disappointment on Tim's face, the bewilderment on King's.
These are my friends. They're being treated badly by someone.
Fight.
"He's moving out," King said, "he's packing gradually."
"Moving to the apartments to live with Derek and Luke."
Don't say anything, Holly (his face said).
We both knew it was coming.
We knew we wouldn't have him for much longer.
I can see myself writing a book about him in a couple of years.
A book about a boy that I was friends with freshman year, that I fought with sophomore year
A boy I'm not sure I ever really knew at all.
I don't know if I'm sad because I'm losing a friend
or because for once I've found someone I can't read.
And he'll be gone before I get to try again.
I'll see him around campus at first, I'm sure,
haunting the HFA like another musical ghost
thumping the piano in various practice rooms.
Then climbing the stairs with folder clasped tightly beneath arm
Bursting past me through the doors
And out into the night.
He'll transfer early, perhaps,
or graduate with the rest of us.
I'll watch his back as he walks away with his family
I'll wonder if I'll ever see him again
I'll know I probably won't.
Yes, someday I'll certainly write a book
About the boy I almost knew.
hissed to Maddie and to King:
"I'm not going to sit across the table from him and pretend that everything's normal.
I can't."
Stomped down the stairs
Sat down on the first floor
Abnormally, by myself.
King and Maddie followed
Seated themselves across from me,
good friends they are.
I calmed down shortly,
knowing, perhaps, that this wasn't my battle to fight.
I know this about myself: Sometimes I fight other people's battles just for a chance to fight at all.
But it felt personal to me.
I saw the disappointment on Tim's face, the bewilderment on King's.
These are my friends. They're being treated badly by someone.
Fight.
"He's moving out," King said, "he's packing gradually."
"Moving to the apartments to live with Derek and Luke."
Don't say anything, Holly (his face said).
We both knew it was coming.
We knew we wouldn't have him for much longer.
I can see myself writing a book about him in a couple of years.
A book about a boy that I was friends with freshman year, that I fought with sophomore year
A boy I'm not sure I ever really knew at all.
I don't know if I'm sad because I'm losing a friend
or because for once I've found someone I can't read.
And he'll be gone before I get to try again.
I'll see him around campus at first, I'm sure,
haunting the HFA like another musical ghost
thumping the piano in various practice rooms.
Then climbing the stairs with folder clasped tightly beneath arm
Bursting past me through the doors
And out into the night.
He'll transfer early, perhaps,
or graduate with the rest of us.
I'll watch his back as he walks away with his family
I'll wonder if I'll ever see him again
I'll know I probably won't.
Yes, someday I'll certainly write a book
About the boy I almost knew.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Reasons Why I'm Happy (A List)
I'm happy today. Happier than I've been in a long time. Not that I'm not a happy person in general, but this kind of bouncy, fizzy, spontaneous, wonderful happiness only comes around every so often, only lasts for a limited time, and only occurs for the following reasons:
1. It's Friday, the beginning of Labor Day weekend. Hence, I have no classes until Tuesday AND therefore have a short week next week.
2. Along with some dorm mates, tonight I have chosen to rebel against the hit-but-most-often-miss Food Service and make the trek to China Buffet instead.
3. The weather outside is my very favorite kind of weather; windy, mid-60's, sunny, and Fallish.
4. I'm wearing a comfy purple plaid shirt. Sometimes your clothes just make your day, I think.
5. Tonight is free movie night on campus, and District 9 is showing. Not that that particular movie exactly fits my happy mood, but how can you go wrong with a free movie? (Actually, I lied. The free movie last year was G-Force. That was very, very wrong).
6. Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Paul with some friends to shop at bookstores, to eat Cossetta's pizza, and to generally revel in the glory that is a big city.
7. I got my first birthday card today! I'm turning 20 in 5 days, you guys! It's really happening, and I'm actually okay with it. Not that there's anything I can do to prevent my aging anyway.
8. I had a good time in class today. Didn't embarrass myself in German I, spoke up a few times in American Lit., and learned a great deal despite it being Friday and beautiful.
1. It's Friday, the beginning of Labor Day weekend. Hence, I have no classes until Tuesday AND therefore have a short week next week.
2. Along with some dorm mates, tonight I have chosen to rebel against the hit-but-most-often-miss Food Service and make the trek to China Buffet instead.
3. The weather outside is my very favorite kind of weather; windy, mid-60's, sunny, and Fallish.
4. I'm wearing a comfy purple plaid shirt. Sometimes your clothes just make your day, I think.
5. Tonight is free movie night on campus, and District 9 is showing. Not that that particular movie exactly fits my happy mood, but how can you go wrong with a free movie? (Actually, I lied. The free movie last year was G-Force. That was very, very wrong).
6. Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Paul with some friends to shop at bookstores, to eat Cossetta's pizza, and to generally revel in the glory that is a big city.
7. I got my first birthday card today! I'm turning 20 in 5 days, you guys! It's really happening, and I'm actually okay with it. Not that there's anything I can do to prevent my aging anyway.
8. I had a good time in class today. Didn't embarrass myself in German I, spoke up a few times in American Lit., and learned a great deal despite it being Friday and beautiful.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Good Times With Old Friends
A Random Current Event:
I am just coming up from downstairs, where I had thrown my sheets in the washing machine, when I see that Dad is in the kitchen salting the potatoes. They're in a pot on the stove, ready to boil and be chopped and mashed for our dinner.
As I pass through the kitchen, Dad suddenly lifts the container of salt to his mouth and pours about a tablespoon in. Holding the salt between puffed out cheeks, his lips pursed comically, he turns and spots me gaping at him.
"Canker sore," he says.
I laugh. "You know Dad, we have stuff for that somewhere."
"I know," Dad replies as he spits out the salt and reaches for a glass of water. "I'm using it."
A Random Memory:
I was emptying my trash a few minutes ago, and a stray packing peanut left over from my earlier online book-buying adventures made me remember something.
It was last winter, and I was sitting in the TV lounge of Pine Hall with a bunch of my dorm mates. Someone (Bridgett, I think it was) had a package from their aunt. I don't remember what was actually in the package, but I do remember the packing peanuts.
"They dissolve in water," Bridgett's aunt had written. "Try putting them in your mouth!"
It was strange, but we passed the peanuts around and held them on our tongues, giggling as we felt them shrink into molten lumps of Styrofoam.
We didn't get any of them to completely dissolve, however, as a chemical-ly, plastic-y taste was released after awhile, forcing us to spit the soggy peanuts onto the carpet.
Interesting, but I only just realized that both of my above stories contain putting unusual things into one's mouth and promptly spitting them out...
Anyway, here's the title story for you:
Last night was the St. John's class of 2005 reunion party. To clarify, it wasn't a party, exactly; it was more of a scheduled gathering. Pioneer park. 8 p.m. Bring chips or something to share. Bonfire afterwards.
It was such a great time!
I think I had expected things to be a little awkward at first; most of us hadn't seen each other since we all graduated 8th grade. In actuality, there were only about 2 seconds in the beginning where people didn't know what to say, and then we were off like we had never been apart. Five years gone just like that.
We talked about what we were up to, we talked about who wasn't in attendance and why, but mostly we reminisced about the good old days at St. John's. And let me tell you: when you go to a Catholic school with the same kids for 9 years, you have some epic times.
After it got dark we relocated to Drew's house where they had a nice bonfire going. We sat around the fire (occasionally getting up and moving back a few yards; the boys were having fun building the flames up as high as possible) and chatted until about 2 a.m., when everyone went home.
The consensus?
1. We need to get together more often.
2. These are some of the best friends I'll probably ever have.
3. Mr. Sachariason (our English teacher 6th and 7th grade-best teacher ever) should have showed up. I wonder why he didn't?
4. Are we really going to be 20 years old? Holy cow.
5. I'm still eager to get back to school, but I'm going to miss the lazy good times of summer. I'm going to miss hanging out with the people I don't get to see at any other time.
I am just coming up from downstairs, where I had thrown my sheets in the washing machine, when I see that Dad is in the kitchen salting the potatoes. They're in a pot on the stove, ready to boil and be chopped and mashed for our dinner.
As I pass through the kitchen, Dad suddenly lifts the container of salt to his mouth and pours about a tablespoon in. Holding the salt between puffed out cheeks, his lips pursed comically, he turns and spots me gaping at him.
"Canker sore," he says.
I laugh. "You know Dad, we have stuff for that somewhere."
"I know," Dad replies as he spits out the salt and reaches for a glass of water. "I'm using it."
A Random Memory:
I was emptying my trash a few minutes ago, and a stray packing peanut left over from my earlier online book-buying adventures made me remember something.
It was last winter, and I was sitting in the TV lounge of Pine Hall with a bunch of my dorm mates. Someone (Bridgett, I think it was) had a package from their aunt. I don't remember what was actually in the package, but I do remember the packing peanuts.
"They dissolve in water," Bridgett's aunt had written. "Try putting them in your mouth!"
It was strange, but we passed the peanuts around and held them on our tongues, giggling as we felt them shrink into molten lumps of Styrofoam.
We didn't get any of them to completely dissolve, however, as a chemical-ly, plastic-y taste was released after awhile, forcing us to spit the soggy peanuts onto the carpet.
Interesting, but I only just realized that both of my above stories contain putting unusual things into one's mouth and promptly spitting them out...
Anyway, here's the title story for you:
Last night was the St. John's class of 2005 reunion party. To clarify, it wasn't a party, exactly; it was more of a scheduled gathering. Pioneer park. 8 p.m. Bring chips or something to share. Bonfire afterwards.
It was such a great time!
I think I had expected things to be a little awkward at first; most of us hadn't seen each other since we all graduated 8th grade. In actuality, there were only about 2 seconds in the beginning where people didn't know what to say, and then we were off like we had never been apart. Five years gone just like that.
We talked about what we were up to, we talked about who wasn't in attendance and why, but mostly we reminisced about the good old days at St. John's. And let me tell you: when you go to a Catholic school with the same kids for 9 years, you have some epic times.
After it got dark we relocated to Drew's house where they had a nice bonfire going. We sat around the fire (occasionally getting up and moving back a few yards; the boys were having fun building the flames up as high as possible) and chatted until about 2 a.m., when everyone went home.
The consensus?
1. We need to get together more often.
2. These are some of the best friends I'll probably ever have.
3. Mr. Sachariason (our English teacher 6th and 7th grade-best teacher ever) should have showed up. I wonder why he didn't?
4. Are we really going to be 20 years old? Holy cow.
5. I'm still eager to get back to school, but I'm going to miss the lazy good times of summer. I'm going to miss hanging out with the people I don't get to see at any other time.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Axe Has Fallen
I was doing a pull in school supplies today at work, and one of my coworkers (a guy named Matt) was saying something about not wanting to work, about it not being worth it. I asked him what he meant, and he said that he was being let go, and that he would only be working for a few more weeks.
And then he mentioned that Spencer, another Target coworker of mine, had already been let go. This completely shocked me. Spencer? Spencer John? He was in a bit of my Target story! He was nice! We had orientation together! He took one of my shifts for me when I couldn't work it! I mean, I didn't know him well at all, but I certainly feel the loss! He just...disappeared! I had no idea that he was even permanently gone!
Matt continued by saying (yeah, this guy's a talker) that Spencer had probably been let go because he was slow. Slow on the zone, maybe. Slow to respond to things. Funny, because I always thought that he was rather willing to help out. Very willing, in fact.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not criticizing the management at Target in any way, or questioning their judgment. I'm merely sharing my observations, and my general shock at the loss of team members I had worked with and gotten to know.
I realize that all of this is probably even to my benefit. Fewer people on the payroll, better pay for me, I guess. But boy I hate to look at it that way. I would personally rather have the people.
Anyway, what struck me the most was the fact that I could be next. Now, I consider myself to be a good, contributing member of the Target team. I try to respond and help out as quickly as I can, I don't purposefully dawdle on breaks, I give great guest service (mainly because I simply love chatting with people), and I make good time on the zones (although sometimes I get a little O.C.D. and spend more time arranging things than is probably necessary).
It's easy to play myself up, and I don't want to sound too self-righteous, but I'll just say that the reason I put so much effort in at work is because I constantly remind myself that I'm getting paid. It's my job. I enjoy it, I take pride in doing well, but I'm also getting $8.00 an hour, and I need to make that $8.00 worth it. Not only to me, but to the person who is shelling it out in my paycheck every fortnight.
Gosh, I hope I don't get let go. Honestly, though, it wouldn't even make much sense for them to fire me. I only have a few weeks of work left before I go off to school, and after that I'll only be an asset; I won't be on the payroll except for Christmas and the other main, busy holidays. I'll give them the extra manpower they need without taking too much pay away from everyone else. That's the way I see it, at least.
Okay that was part one of The Axe Has Fallen.
Here's part two:
My good friend Ben (one of my best friends at Morris) will not be coming back to UMM next year. I'm mentioning this not because I know he'll probably read it (Hi Ben), but because this news is really bringing me down, and if I want my blog to reflect the impactful things in my life (which I do), then I can't leave things like this out.
So here we go.
The Top 9 Things I'm Going To Miss Most About Having Ben at UMM:
1. The whistling. You can hear Ben coming from a long way off because he's constantly whistling (or singing or humming).
2. His laugh. Again, you can hear it for quite a ways. Makes him easy to find.
3. Having mysterious messages/drawings appear on my whiteboard.
4. We were going to take/suffer through German I together!
5. He's always up for going on a walk somewhere, whether it be to Pamida, the Student Center, or the Humanities Building (where he waited with me for like 30 minutes just so I could get advised).
6. Somehow Ben always knows everything about everyone. He's not particularly nosy; people just feel comfortable telling him things. He's like a well of secrets (which comes in handy a lot, take my word for it).
7. Watching Survivor! I hate to admit it, but he definitely remembers more about past seasons than I do, although we both agree that Rupert is the best Survivor of all time.
8. Just generally having such a good friend around, one who's always willing to listen, who gives great advice, and who will tell it to you straight up when you need him to.
9. I only have one eyeball, and it's for you! (sorry-inside joke)
Okay this is making me sad. It's not like he's dying or anything.
Now is the time when I have to embrace my new mantra: everything happens for a reason, and a lot of the time it happens for the best. There's a reason for this, which will hopefully become clear very soon. In the meantime, I'll be saving all of my best trips, falls, spills, etc. until we hang out again.
And then he mentioned that Spencer, another Target coworker of mine, had already been let go. This completely shocked me. Spencer? Spencer John? He was in a bit of my Target story! He was nice! We had orientation together! He took one of my shifts for me when I couldn't work it! I mean, I didn't know him well at all, but I certainly feel the loss! He just...disappeared! I had no idea that he was even permanently gone!
Matt continued by saying (yeah, this guy's a talker) that Spencer had probably been let go because he was slow. Slow on the zone, maybe. Slow to respond to things. Funny, because I always thought that he was rather willing to help out. Very willing, in fact.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not criticizing the management at Target in any way, or questioning their judgment. I'm merely sharing my observations, and my general shock at the loss of team members I had worked with and gotten to know.
I realize that all of this is probably even to my benefit. Fewer people on the payroll, better pay for me, I guess. But boy I hate to look at it that way. I would personally rather have the people.
Anyway, what struck me the most was the fact that I could be next. Now, I consider myself to be a good, contributing member of the Target team. I try to respond and help out as quickly as I can, I don't purposefully dawdle on breaks, I give great guest service (mainly because I simply love chatting with people), and I make good time on the zones (although sometimes I get a little O.C.D. and spend more time arranging things than is probably necessary).
It's easy to play myself up, and I don't want to sound too self-righteous, but I'll just say that the reason I put so much effort in at work is because I constantly remind myself that I'm getting paid. It's my job. I enjoy it, I take pride in doing well, but I'm also getting $8.00 an hour, and I need to make that $8.00 worth it. Not only to me, but to the person who is shelling it out in my paycheck every fortnight.
Gosh, I hope I don't get let go. Honestly, though, it wouldn't even make much sense for them to fire me. I only have a few weeks of work left before I go off to school, and after that I'll only be an asset; I won't be on the payroll except for Christmas and the other main, busy holidays. I'll give them the extra manpower they need without taking too much pay away from everyone else. That's the way I see it, at least.
Okay that was part one of The Axe Has Fallen.
Here's part two:
My good friend Ben (one of my best friends at Morris) will not be coming back to UMM next year. I'm mentioning this not because I know he'll probably read it (Hi Ben), but because this news is really bringing me down, and if I want my blog to reflect the impactful things in my life (which I do), then I can't leave things like this out.
So here we go.
The Top 9 Things I'm Going To Miss Most About Having Ben at UMM:
1. The whistling. You can hear Ben coming from a long way off because he's constantly whistling (or singing or humming).
2. His laugh. Again, you can hear it for quite a ways. Makes him easy to find.
3. Having mysterious messages/drawings appear on my whiteboard.
4. We were going to take/suffer through German I together!
5. He's always up for going on a walk somewhere, whether it be to Pamida, the Student Center, or the Humanities Building (where he waited with me for like 30 minutes just so I could get advised).
6. Somehow Ben always knows everything about everyone. He's not particularly nosy; people just feel comfortable telling him things. He's like a well of secrets (which comes in handy a lot, take my word for it).
7. Watching Survivor! I hate to admit it, but he definitely remembers more about past seasons than I do, although we both agree that Rupert is the best Survivor of all time.
8. Just generally having such a good friend around, one who's always willing to listen, who gives great advice, and who will tell it to you straight up when you need him to.
9. I only have one eyeball, and it's for you! (sorry-inside joke)
Okay this is making me sad. It's not like he's dying or anything.
Now is the time when I have to embrace my new mantra: everything happens for a reason, and a lot of the time it happens for the best. There's a reason for this, which will hopefully become clear very soon. In the meantime, I'll be saving all of my best trips, falls, spills, etc. until we hang out again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)