I’m going downtown… March 31, 2008

Dreamgirls…

Last weekend was a marathon super-family weekend in Atlanta with the crazy, Jewish side of the family. After APO initiation on Thursday night, I slept for a grand total of 7.5 hours, not including the time it took me to fall into a semi-deep slumber. I woke up with naughty roomie at 7:45, took a quick shower, then packed all of my things and high tailed it to my car, then drove to the airport.  Parking, shuttle to the aeropuerto, and security took maybe a half hour, since I’m clever and printed out my boarding pass ahead of time.   I also managed to allot myself just enough time to get through it all, head to Hudson’s News for a few snacks, and make it to the gate by the time we should have started boarding at 10:45. Not that we actually started boarding at 10:45, but still.

Interlude #1: conversation between wife and husband while standing in short security line.

HUSBAND: God I HATE flying! First, they make the coach seats tiny, then they make the lines long! It’s like traveling in steerage. <insert me chuckling to myself>

WIFE: Nods. I know, dear.

H: Looks at his ticket. E? E? Is that a WINDOW seat? I HATE window seats!  Who gave me a window seat?

W: You said that you’d rather be in the window seat than the middle.

H: I would never say that! I hate window seats! God dammit!

W: I remember having this conversation.

H: Well I don’t! I hate flying…

W: Well, look, you probably just have my ticket. We can switch, then you can be in the middle and everything’ll be fine.  Husband grumbles. I’m just trying to make you happy, here!

…

Interlude #2: Same couple, now standing by conveyor belt waiting to go through the check point.

H: Oh, look! Can you believe that? They’re all the way down there and they haven’t even taken off their shoes yet! Husband nods his head towards a family with six children grouped together by the check point. 

W: They obviously don’t fly often!

H: Obviously! They cackle together gleefully, then start looking at their watches. Their flight leaves in approx. ten minutes. Oops! At this point, two pilots skip through the line and cut in front of us. Pilot #2 is chatty, and coincidentally the pilot for my flight. Cool.

W: Are we going to have enough time? When does the flight leave?

H: If those children would hurry up, we’d be fine?

PILOT: Say, when does your flight leave?

H: 10 minutes.

P: Nods. Now, that’s cutting it too close, I’d say.  Ten minutes…hmm, that’s too tight.

…

Interlude #3

When I got to the gate, there was no plane. Twenty minutes later, there was no plane. “Are we going to be delayed?” One person asked a stewardess. Said stewardess shook her head and replied: “We’ll board this plane so fast it’ll make your head spin!”

…

The flight from Richmond to Atlanta is pretty quick. A little under 2 hours, I believe, but it seems to go by speedily.  Anyway, I get into Atlanta and am surprised to find all of the construction that was there this time last year finished. I had to wait for my parents, then we got lunch (Chik-Fil-A style) and hopped onto MARTA, and an hour later, we were at North Springs! Voila! Met my uncle, squeezed into my grandmother’s ancient Honda, and headed back to the house. Eventually my aunt and grandmother arrived and we chatted for a bit. Then the aunt that I haven’t seen in ages and my cousin who is now 16 (!!!!) came over and we all had Shabbat dinner. Note: Jewish sweet wine is not very good. Addendum: My aunt’s brisket is also not very good.

…

The rest of the weekend kind of passed in a blur. My cousin, uncle, mom, dad, and I had quite a few discussions about politics, the first of which convinced my mom that she doesn’t want to have a Political Dinner with her friends. Yeah, mom, bad idea unless you want to cause a schism. So, basically, a good deal of the conversation involved everyone dissing Hillary Clinton and thus my own political views, and saying how fabulous Obama is. Fun!

…

Saturday, we were supposed to drive up north to this little town whose name I can’t spell, but since it was raining, we ended up taking everyone except for my mall-phobic brother to Lenox, which is a MASSIVE, high end mall in downtown-ish Atlanta. This was Mom and I’s plan all along, but it turned out to be a bad idea. Why, you ask? 1. No one wanted to split up, so shopping with six people in tow didn’t work very well. 2. The crazy, Jewish side of the family is not big on window-shopping, so whenever we went into the more expensive stores, it was basically them looking at price tags, guffawing, and waiting for us tapping their toes. Not fun. 3. Grandma in a wheelchair makes for a very snippy Grandma. So not fun.

That night, we went out to dinner at a restaurant called Canoe somewhere in Atlanta on a little river. Couldn’t tell you where. It’s evidently a popular place, given that it was loud and crowded, and complete with three separate tables of prom-going couples in poofy prom dresses and tuxedos. Total misjudgment on my uncle’s part, given that my grandmother is very hard of hearing, and thus could only hear one out of maybe every twenty words spoken. Poor grandma. We arrived to find my aunt on her second martini, picked up my hysterical grandmother ten minutes late (she had pictured all of us bleeding into the concrete on the highway about ten times over), and my poor cousin trying to calm everyone down. But, dinner was good. I got my steak (yum, but not quite so yum as mom’s steak) and some delicious bread pudding with a croissant baked on top and blueberries inside. It was so delicious. Definitely the definition of comfort food. YUM.

…

Sunday rolled around all too quickly, and Sunday was time-to-return-home day. I was slightly relieved, given that time with my family can be highly stressful and frustrating, but also sad, because it meant leaving Grandma and Mom and Dad and heading back to the always-stressful world of Richmond. I almost missed my plane because they changed gates, but I got there for the final boarding call, thank goodness. I had an aisle seat, sitting next to this young couple complete with a totally immature guy that made really weird noises as we were landing. But the flight was fast and I got to read my book, which was lovely.

And that was my weekend! I hope you are at least somewhat entertained by my family exploits

Let me hear you say: God I love the Greeks… March 28, 2008

From one version of the Greek Alphabet Song

A little after 10:30, I began my induction ceremony into Alpha Psi Omega, the national dramatic honor fraternity in the U.S. It ended at ten till one. It was a very long ceremony–unusually so, I am told. And I found it equally exhausting, nerve wracking, calming, and fun. It’s  very very secretive, so unfortunately I can’t spill the beans on what we did, lest some other pledge stumble along my blog on a frantic google search.

Let’s see, what can I say? It involved a test of our respect and manners and ability to follow instructions, a test of our communication skills and knowledge of our fellow pledges, proof of dedication to our Greek families, respect for the Greek dramatic history, ingenuity, originality, and the ability to admit you’re wrong and that you don’t know everything, and that you work better as a team than individually. It was a very long night, suffice to say, but one well worth it, I think.

In other news that I can actually share, I was told that the brand spankin’ new WGSS journal, Inquiries, in which an essay of mine will be published, shall be out and about sometime next week! I’m so very excited!

<3 to you all! Sleep well, wherever you are. I know I shall!

Super frustrated. Super duper. March 24, 2008

No one will freaking call me back. Not like I’ve called anyone, so I should amend that and say, no one will freaking email me back. Fuck. I need to send someone else an email. Right.

Anyway, the lady at the YMCA who is in charge of the children is not being magically available, surprise surprise, which means that this stupid project is magically not going to get finished (surprise surprise). And, since Easter was last weekend, all of the public schools are on break this week, which means that not only are the children spending way to much time at home in front of the telly (i.e. not in school where I can interview =them), but there’s also little to no admin staff or faculty in the schools themselves, which means I can’t even plan anything. Also, children need their parents to sign releases, and children are also very bad about giving parents things to sign, so even if I get in contact with YMCA lady, which may never happen because I have no free time that aligns with the rest of the world, chances are most of the children will just get to play knock out or whatever it is they do at day care or after care of whatever child care extended hours thingie it is.

I’m also supposed to interview elderly people, but the thing is, I really really really don’t like going to retirement homes because they make me really upset. Why, you ask? Oh, no reason, really. I just have one getting-more-feeble-with-every-passing-moment grandparent left who can talk to me, and one more who is still alive (and will probably outlast us all), but who doesn’t remember that I exist. I do get to go visit the grandmother who can talk to me this weekend though, which is probably the only thing keeping me going right now.

So, I guess that leaves manipulating my fellow students into talking to me again. Which means that one very tall man is going to be very angry with me, and I will probably cry. The plus side to all of this is that I haven’t cried over this during this semester yet. That’s a plus, trust me.

YESS! March 22, 2008

Air fares to Europe should be going down this summer thanks to new arrangements!!

Check it out here.

Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know… March 22, 2008

Vintage Britney, not to be confused with Brittany (moi).

So, instead of doing work, lovely new friend Patricia and I went off shopping and we had a blast. And, after we went to dinner, we decided that British curse words were going to be our thing. Thus, I am researching the bad words used by our friends ‘cross the pond. Here are my findings, thanks to the lovely BBC and other nice places.

Pratt, for example, is an old word meaning “arse”, from which, coincidentally, the American “ass” is derived. Nowadays, “pratt” means “fool”, not bum, but it’s funny nonetheless.

And, there are apparently a lot of uses for “arse”. A “smart arse” is like a smart ass. A “silly arse” is a fool. To “arse about” means to “play the fool”, and, my personal favorite, a “short arse” is someone with short legs. So, while I may be short, I don’t think I would really be a short arse because my legs are long in proportion to my body. But, when taken in relation to the legs of tall model-esques, I just may be a short arse.

Haha. Some more anatomy loveliness of the male privates sort: bollocks. Bollocks means is basically rubbish. But, and this is funny, “the dog’s bollocks” (or, “the mutts nuts”) ‘would suggest it is the best there is’ (BBC). Weird.  And then there’s the f-word and the c-word and bugger, which refers to buggering or sodomy. And shag. And shit and shite (Ireland, Scotland, and Northern England). And wanker.

And some others for amusement, not necessarily curse words: Barmy, blast, blimey, bloody, blooming, bogey, chuffed, cor, daft, dishy, dodgy…

There’s more and I’m bored/must dash!

<3

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind… March 17, 2008

I have time enough to say this: I am very, very, very close to whacking naughty roomie. Hard. Like, teetering on the edge of sanity and going nuts.

It’s time like these when a punching bag would come in handy. You know that feeling when your hand gets a bit tingly like it just wants to beat the crap out of something? Just to release all of the pent up frustration and stress? Yeah, welcome to life as my Right Hand. Actually, Left Hand is a bit more tingly than the right, but the right is the one that would go up to bat. I wonder why that is?

Edit: I’m so tightly wound that I’m not grammatically correct. Yes, good roomie, I did realize. And I don’t care, which is why I’m not editing. 

Put another dime in the jukebox, baby March 14, 2008

I loveee Bravo!

Work Out is BACK and we are warming up with a bit of an intro to the cast of characters, and boy is it bitchy. But fabulously so

“Hey Jackie, do you know why girls where makeup and perfume? BECAUSE THEY’RE UGLY AND THEY SMELL!”

ha. The grown man’s five year old.

Her name was Lola… March 14, 2008

Copacabana was so on the radio today, and boy did I blast it. It might only be 57 deg. outside, but windows down + stereo + a little Copa… <3 fabulous!

The reason I haven’t been here in four days is because for some reason, I have to do something besides sitting on my bum at home this summer (how sad, I know!), soooo I’ve been internship hunting and gathering and applying. I hate doing this, I really do, but really, the hunting and gathering isn’t so bad. Neither is the resume updating. It’s the cover letters that get you. Especially when people think its fun to make you go searching through site maps and contact lists and all that silliness to find the name of the person you’re supposed to be sending your resume to. Especially when there is no name, only “internship coordinator” (if you’re lucky) and a memo that goes like this…. re: No calls, please!

Let me tell you, I can write a snappy letter To Whom It May Concern, or Mr. or Ms. Internship Coordinator. But what I really hate about this applying thing is that A. I really don’t like talking about myself, much less bragging but making the bragging sound non-conceited, non-egotistical, and non-arrogant. B. I really hate being cliche, but how many ways can you say “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE EMAIL ME BACK! CALL ME! TEXT ME! SOMETHING!” I should try that. C. Sometimes, even if it’s a job you really want, after drafting a dozen cover letters, you just don’t want to be enthusiastic or driven or dedicated anymore. You want to be a big, selfish baby that wants to sit at home and eat delicious chocolate ice cream all day.

But really, beneath all the sugar and saturated fat, you are dedicated and flexible and all that stuff, so you suck it up and write those cover letters. And press send, glad to get that god-awful thing out of your saved drafts box, at the very least.

Back I go….

You’re so vain… March 10, 2008

This will be brief because I have work to do. (over spring break. kind of makes me sad, but it will be so nice to get it all done!) There are a few internet forums that I frequent, and talk.collegeconfidential.com is one of them. I was cruising it last night before I tucked myself into bed, and I found this one horribly disgusting post. Granted, the site is used be a massive quantity of over-achievers trying to get into or already in college. Plus some knowledgeable parents. Anyway, here is the first post of the thread (that made me want to vomit)

working straight out of college

---

what do you guys think of working straight out of college. I think many of us are unprepared and we don’t need 42 hrs/week taken out of our lives so soon.
I kind of want to take an extra year off but i’m not sure when I should do it. Should I just take a year between college, after college, or stay in college but be part time for 2 years instead?

<insert projectile vomit>

I know I’m a bit abnormal because my chosen university has one of the highest tuitions in the US (something my parent’s are very not happy with, btw.), but seriously. I’ve been in school for…hmm, elementary school plus Kindergarten is 6 years. Middle school is 3 years. High school is 4 years. College will be 4 years. That’s 17 years in total. Seventeen years. Even though I love learning, I am so sick of doing homework and writing essays. I don’t want to do it anymore. I just don’t. I want a real live job, doing something that I love–or at least want–to do. Like HangPROUD. I would so do HP for the rest of my life, if it could support me. I want to make a difference, I want to create something, I want responsibility, I want to stop being dependent on my parents. I want my own place and my own family and my own dog.

What do I not want? A year long spring break. An “extra year off”? Are you kidding me? My parents would FLIP. I think it would be one of those–yeah, fine honey. Just don’t expect to move in here for your ‘year off’. Have fun in the real world, sweet heart. Luv ya, buh bye. And stay in college part time for 2 years? Ha ha. Goooodbye money.

And what are people doing over the summer? Internships are to prepare you. Job training is to prepare you. Changing careers and trying things is to prepare you. You don’t have to leap into a career and maintain that one career for the rest of your life, but after 17 years of being educated, you sure as hell ought to try. My dad has been working since he was 20 years old, and he works way more than 42 hours a week. If there’s anyone who shouldn’t have to work that much, it’s him. When I graduate from college and leave the realm of academia, it’s my turn, and hopefully I’ll be able to take some of the weight off of him, eventually.

I guess for some people, money and time grow on trees. Not for me.

Send me on my way… March 8, 2008

Hello everyone! It’s spring break (thank God!) and I’m finally home! (ditto!) It’s been an interesting night, complete with me falling asleep around five and waking up in  a blackout… Yeah. Mom was giddily lighting candles around eight when she roused me. We’ve got some kind of intense storm a’brewing. The wind is rattling my windows, which is creepy and makes me think some crazy ax murderer rapist is climbing up a ladder… Yeah, so, have I mentioned that I’m paranoid? :nods:

Anyway, it’s almost my bedtime, but I was cruising NYTimes.com and found an editorial by Gail Collins that I found quite amusing. I highly recommend it–enjoy!

xoxox