Jon and I hung out. We went to this courtyard where we use to brainstorm ideas and talked about things going on in our lives.
Jon has recently gotten engaged, which was the big news. He told me about how he and his fiancee are planning their wedding.
He also showed me some art he's been working on. Apparently something he and his fiancee do. It actually looked like stuff similar to the stuff my Mom likes to make.
While we were sitting there, Nate and Sam walked by. Nate complained that I hadn't been by to spend time with him enough. It was a surprising thing to say, because I don't usually feel needed by anyone, and sometimes I get the distinct feeling people want me to go away.
Which is not to say I mind. Years ago, I complained about boys being too needy, but I don't feel that way about Nate. It might be because he's not a needy person, or it could be that I like the Nate's neediness. It makes me feel needed but not like I'm under emotional siege. (Which was the problem, back then. That and he was never very giving, in all senses of the word.)
Jon and I continued our talk, and I gave him a gift. Jon's been complaining about having writer's block, so I collected some cool quotes from writers and gave them to him. He thanked me.
I also saw one of my favorite conversational friends, but he was on the phone and just waved at me.
Jon and I went into one of the buildings nearby and dropped in on an art gallery party. Just because. They had these really bizarre mini rolls. They were like spring rolls, but smaller, and covered in this clear, kind of squishy film. It sort of made me imagine the larvae of some science fiction alien monster, which meant that I wasn't really into them. I felt like they should have been trying to move out of my hand as I ate them.
Afterward, the party ended and we dropped in on a poetry reading. I was mostly going because I had some friends who were going to be there and two who were reading, so I wanted to go to see what would happen.
Bobby and his girlfriend were there. I've actually never met his girlfriend before. Unfortunately, I didn't really get a chance to talk to her. But Bobby seemed good.
Bobby also formerly introduced me to his best friend, Cory. I actually met Cory last year, though I don't think he remembered me.
A couple of different teachers introduced the reading. Lia read first. She read poems mostly in the style of Mary Oliver, who, if I'm remembering correctly, she likes. She had one poem about shopping the grocery store late at night. There was something about it that was very calm, very dreamy. If I was writing that poem, it would be more scary or, at the least, fraught with a sense of how strange being under florescent lights late at night in a desolate place.
Then Cory read. Cory was more formal in delivery. He felt more like listening to a professor. He talked about his girlfriend, and how they didn't get along right away. The poem he read that sticks out the most in my mind was about a pistachio. No kidding. It made me brainstorm another poem for myself about a similar subject.
This is one of the many things I like about poetry readings: they always manage to make me want to write more.
There were more people reading, but Jon and I had to leave because we had to go to Virginia's concert.
(Like I've said I've been super busy. Three events in one night.)
Virginia plays harp. The night before, I had proofread her list of songs. I'm embarrassed to say that, since she was playing mostly classical songs, I didn't recognize much that was on there.
The concert had a lot of friends that I hadn't seen in a while: Dean, Jane, Marguerite, Erin, and Amanda were all there. Jon sat with his fiancee. I think I briefly shook her hand. Marguerite was reading a sample of poems I sent her and complained that I didn't need to send sixteen pages.
"Yeah, but there was only five poems," I said in reply, which made people laugh.
Virginia's parents and old teachers were there, which was nice to see. Virginia's Dad was older than I imagined and Virginia's Mom looked more like a typical Mom than I imagined. I sort of imagined that Virginia's Mom would look more like a hippie than she did. Her teacher there seemed like a sweet old lady.
Despite knowing Virginia for years now, I had never seen her play. It was really nice. I've always had a soft spot for harps. When I was little, my favorite instrument was a harp. I had a computer encyclopedia program and I would play their samples of harp music all the time. (I also played the violin, piano and guitar samples a lot, which I guess is pretty telling too, in terms of my musical tastes now. I love violin, especially when it's used in with a heavy beat, since that's uncommon.)
Harp is such an impressive instrument, partly because of its size but also because of the detailed finger work one has to use. Virginia also had a piano player accompany her and then later on, another harp player. Erin and Marguerite really wanted pictures of this.
During the intermission, I turned to everyone and said "I don't mean to brag guys, but I'm going home tonight with the musician." This got laughs from people. Obviously, since I was living with Virginia, I was literally going home with her, but the implication I was making about sleeping with her was false. Virginia luckily thought this was funny, and she laughed and put her arm around me.
Showing posts with label ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ideas. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Bar Crawl
I decided to go on this bar crawl, which was my very first ever. I was a little reluctant to go, because I wasn't sure who I would talk to and I find myself trying hard to not make a bother of myself.
I had dinner first with a group of girls, some of whom I had taken classes. I even got a few hugs. One of the girls sitting next to me had won a study-abroad scholarship and was going to Spain in the fall.
Then we went to this massive bar that was clearly meant for the frat boy set. At that point, I had found Carrie, and we walked in together with the larger group.
I guess like everyone was on a bar crawl, because pretty much everyone had on some shirt or another that indicated they were. Even though it was only six in the evening, the inside was about seventy percent full, everyone crowded around the bar. I decided not to get a drink because I hate pushing through crowds and waiting.
Instead, I went outside, and I was almost immediately greeted by someone really drunk. He wasn't mean or anything, he just got right up into my face and then when he spoke to me, he smelled of alcohol. He was very friendly.
His friend, who appeared to be babysitting, put in a preliminary apology. I told him it wasn't a big deal.
Drunk boy, on the other hand, was sort of lazily dancing (there wasn't any music.) He handed me a flask, and just seeing it made me smile. I know people carry flasks, but there's something so old school, so cowboy, so bad boy in a film noir about it that I just always want to ask people "Seriously? You have one of these? Do you enjoy being a cliche?"
He wanted me to take a drink. I'm almost always up for a free drink, so I took a sip. Drunk boy clapped. I have no idea what it was, but how strong could it be, as it didn't burn. Maybe really watered down vodka, because I couldn't taste much either.
I talked to Carrie, and later Jonathan and Zack, who had come in after her. There was talk of eventually finding Erin, who was her usual MIA. (When are people going to show up on time for things?) I asked Jonathan if he was going back to France, because he loves the French language and because one of my old classmates had gone there to teach for a year.
"Where's Erin?" I asked.
"Who knows," said Carrie. She got out her phone and started texting. "She said she was going to come."
That's what Erin had told me. I had specifically asked her if she was going because things were always more entertaining when she was involved.
After hanging out for a half an hour, we decided to move on to the next place, an Irish pub, one I had passed by but had never gone into before. As we walked over there, I happened to turn around to look back. Up against the wall of the bar we had just been in stood drunk Guy, his back to the wall, his babysitter, and another young man. It looked like the babysitter and the other one were attempting to put drunk Guy's teeth back into his mouth. I had just enough time to wonder what was going on.
At the pub, they took us in a large side room which was obviously meant to hold the college crowd. It was relatively quiet when we walked in, but it seemed to get steadily more crowded and louder. Here, I walked up to the bar and bought myself an amaretto sour. I only had twenties, and I had been in bars where paying for twenties and gotten me glares, so I apologized right off the bat.
"No worries," the bartender said as he got me change. As I waited, I noticed how wet the actual bar was. It was basically soaked.
Drink in hand, I headed over to a group of friends, Carrie and Jonathan, plus a couple of other people I recognized but couldn't remember the names of.
Eventually, a redhead wandered over to us. Again, I remembered her because we had a conversation about virginity at one point last year, but I just could not remember her name. She was younger than everyone else, so she couldn't drink, but had come along. Possibly because she had designed the t-shirt.
"Can I stick around with you?" she said.
"Sure." I got the feeling that maybe she was like me, a little out of her depth.
I ran into Maddie, and it was good to see her. She had changed her hair cut but it was still its normal black and she looked really good. We had a class together once. I asked her what she was up to and she said she was working at a community center, and I marveled at how much the people in this group were doing things to really help the world, and I mean that genuinely. Pretty much everyone was working for organizations like the Red Cross, or a food bank, or with immigrants, or raising money for public television or at halfway homes. I have a lot of friends whose work centers around them saving money for massive corporations and making lots of money for themselves, but these friends and old colleagues were actually helping people.
"How goes the poetry writing?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't have any time for poetry or art these days because I'm so busy!" she said, half yelling because the room was pretty loud.
That's actual too bad, because she was a decent poet, and I remember thinking she had interesting life experiences to draw from. And now, given her work, she'll probably have even more interesting things to say.
I had dinner first with a group of girls, some of whom I had taken classes. I even got a few hugs. One of the girls sitting next to me had won a study-abroad scholarship and was going to Spain in the fall.
Then we went to this massive bar that was clearly meant for the frat boy set. At that point, I had found Carrie, and we walked in together with the larger group.
I guess like everyone was on a bar crawl, because pretty much everyone had on some shirt or another that indicated they were. Even though it was only six in the evening, the inside was about seventy percent full, everyone crowded around the bar. I decided not to get a drink because I hate pushing through crowds and waiting.
Instead, I went outside, and I was almost immediately greeted by someone really drunk. He wasn't mean or anything, he just got right up into my face and then when he spoke to me, he smelled of alcohol. He was very friendly.
His friend, who appeared to be babysitting, put in a preliminary apology. I told him it wasn't a big deal.
Drunk boy, on the other hand, was sort of lazily dancing (there wasn't any music.) He handed me a flask, and just seeing it made me smile. I know people carry flasks, but there's something so old school, so cowboy, so bad boy in a film noir about it that I just always want to ask people "Seriously? You have one of these? Do you enjoy being a cliche?"
He wanted me to take a drink. I'm almost always up for a free drink, so I took a sip. Drunk boy clapped. I have no idea what it was, but how strong could it be, as it didn't burn. Maybe really watered down vodka, because I couldn't taste much either.
I talked to Carrie, and later Jonathan and Zack, who had come in after her. There was talk of eventually finding Erin, who was her usual MIA. (When are people going to show up on time for things?) I asked Jonathan if he was going back to France, because he loves the French language and because one of my old classmates had gone there to teach for a year.
"Where's Erin?" I asked.
"Who knows," said Carrie. She got out her phone and started texting. "She said she was going to come."
That's what Erin had told me. I had specifically asked her if she was going because things were always more entertaining when she was involved.
After hanging out for a half an hour, we decided to move on to the next place, an Irish pub, one I had passed by but had never gone into before. As we walked over there, I happened to turn around to look back. Up against the wall of the bar we had just been in stood drunk Guy, his back to the wall, his babysitter, and another young man. It looked like the babysitter and the other one were attempting to put drunk Guy's teeth back into his mouth. I had just enough time to wonder what was going on.
At the pub, they took us in a large side room which was obviously meant to hold the college crowd. It was relatively quiet when we walked in, but it seemed to get steadily more crowded and louder. Here, I walked up to the bar and bought myself an amaretto sour. I only had twenties, and I had been in bars where paying for twenties and gotten me glares, so I apologized right off the bat.
"No worries," the bartender said as he got me change. As I waited, I noticed how wet the actual bar was. It was basically soaked.
Drink in hand, I headed over to a group of friends, Carrie and Jonathan, plus a couple of other people I recognized but couldn't remember the names of.
Eventually, a redhead wandered over to us. Again, I remembered her because we had a conversation about virginity at one point last year, but I just could not remember her name. She was younger than everyone else, so she couldn't drink, but had come along. Possibly because she had designed the t-shirt.
"Can I stick around with you?" she said.
"Sure." I got the feeling that maybe she was like me, a little out of her depth.
I ran into Maddie, and it was good to see her. She had changed her hair cut but it was still its normal black and she looked really good. We had a class together once. I asked her what she was up to and she said she was working at a community center, and I marveled at how much the people in this group were doing things to really help the world, and I mean that genuinely. Pretty much everyone was working for organizations like the Red Cross, or a food bank, or with immigrants, or raising money for public television or at halfway homes. I have a lot of friends whose work centers around them saving money for massive corporations and making lots of money for themselves, but these friends and old colleagues were actually helping people.
"How goes the poetry writing?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't have any time for poetry or art these days because I'm so busy!" she said, half yelling because the room was pretty loud.
That's actual too bad, because she was a decent poet, and I remember thinking she had interesting life experiences to draw from. And now, given her work, she'll probably have even more interesting things to say.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Aboligatory Will and Kate Post
Jenny and Elizabeth are so excited about the upcoming royal wedding, and I'm learning a lot just by hanging around them. Today, however, I came across this article explaining names of the British well-to-do.
I can't get over how strange and funny these names sound. Tiggy? It really does sound like a character I would have made up for a story when I was younger.
The other thing I found myself thinking was that this isn't really that different in America. The upper crust that goes to say, Yale, usually have double names to help indicate their family ties. If I had to guess, I'd say some of those Ivy Leaguers are related to these people, and "stole" the idea from them.
I can't get over how strange and funny these names sound. Tiggy? It really does sound like a character I would have made up for a story when I was younger.
The other thing I found myself thinking was that this isn't really that different in America. The upper crust that goes to say, Yale, usually have double names to help indicate their family ties. If I had to guess, I'd say some of those Ivy Leaguers are related to these people, and "stole" the idea from them.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Dean's Mom's Younger Self
At work today I was reading when I had an idea for a poem, and then off I was, writing one instead of working on what I was meant to be doing. This is becoming rather typical of me.
It was mostly a work of nostalgia. During the Superbowl a few days ago, I was thinking about when Dean and I went to a party together for it (this was back before I was a regular attendee at things at Casa Paul). We had to walk on this giant sheet of ice to get there. I remember slipping and sliding. "Here Dear," Dean said, and he let me take his arm. Dean says dear to me a lot, and it's one of those little things I like about him. We had only recently become friends, but it was one of those friendships that immediately took off and it was like we knew each other.
As we walked, I realized how much he sounded like another old friend, and it was strange, realizing that I was gravitating to the same types of people over and over again.
And then I thought about when we were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about Doctor Who, when Dean turned suddenly and said "You look exactly like my Mom did when you were her age." We were sitting with a bunch of other friends then, and Matt was all "Way to be creepy." We decided as a group that Dean's current Mom had gone back in time to get her younger self, bring her younger self back to the present to watch Dean. And, obviously, I was Dean's Mom's Younger Self.
And then I thought about a dance I went to with that group of friends, and how much great music they played, especially techno.
So, basically, I was working off of nostalgia. And not doing my real work.
It was mostly a work of nostalgia. During the Superbowl a few days ago, I was thinking about when Dean and I went to a party together for it (this was back before I was a regular attendee at things at Casa Paul). We had to walk on this giant sheet of ice to get there. I remember slipping and sliding. "Here Dear," Dean said, and he let me take his arm. Dean says dear to me a lot, and it's one of those little things I like about him. We had only recently become friends, but it was one of those friendships that immediately took off and it was like we knew each other.
As we walked, I realized how much he sounded like another old friend, and it was strange, realizing that I was gravitating to the same types of people over and over again.
And then I thought about when we were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about Doctor Who, when Dean turned suddenly and said "You look exactly like my Mom did when you were her age." We were sitting with a bunch of other friends then, and Matt was all "Way to be creepy." We decided as a group that Dean's current Mom had gone back in time to get her younger self, bring her younger self back to the present to watch Dean. And, obviously, I was Dean's Mom's Younger Self.
And then I thought about a dance I went to with that group of friends, and how much great music they played, especially techno.
So, basically, I was working off of nostalgia. And not doing my real work.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Circus
Karen today asked me if I had dyed my hair. "No..." I said, not sure how to respond. "It looks really good today." Oh. Thank you.
I get the feeling Karen likes me better than I like her, which makes me feel a little guilty. She and I exchanged glances when dealing with Preadad, who almost came over to sit at our table.
Elizabeth and Jenny, I suspect, are heterosexual lifemates, much like Daniel and Kashif or Paul and Jimmy or, I guess, Ruth and I. (Or once upon a time, Josie and I, or going even farther back, Ash and I.) Elizabeth has finally caught on to this and jokes about it. Elizabeth will talk for the both of them and then Jenny will sort of grunt along.
Tamar talked about the surprise party that she went to, and how she got lost and then had to be on the phone with someone for twenty-five minutes trying to direct her to the right place. And then we had a discussion of circumcision. And then followed by a discussion of ear piercings. Tamar had a harder time with the second discussion than the first.
Jessica was babysitting a little girl named Callie today, and she brought her to lunch. Mary Jane was all over her, and they chatted about shoes. Callie was very cute, but like most children, not really interested in taking her daily nap. Quite frankly, I was a bit jealous, because I really wanted a nap already today, but felt awkward taking one since my roommate was hanging about the room.
Jessica came over to tell us Ian had gotten tickets to the circus but couldn't go; did anyone want them? If Ruth was at dinner, I would have been up for going with her, but I didn't feel much like going alone tonight (and really, I have things I am meant to stay in for: essay editing, maybe some draft writing, and possible assorted studying and reading.) I went out last night when I really wasn't meant to, and drank with Ruth and some of the other girls. Anyway, Jenny still needs to get out of her party tonight, but she didn't like the circus idea.
I get the feeling Karen likes me better than I like her, which makes me feel a little guilty. She and I exchanged glances when dealing with Preadad, who almost came over to sit at our table.
Elizabeth and Jenny, I suspect, are heterosexual lifemates, much like Daniel and Kashif or Paul and Jimmy or, I guess, Ruth and I. (Or once upon a time, Josie and I, or going even farther back, Ash and I.) Elizabeth has finally caught on to this and jokes about it. Elizabeth will talk for the both of them and then Jenny will sort of grunt along.
Tamar talked about the surprise party that she went to, and how she got lost and then had to be on the phone with someone for twenty-five minutes trying to direct her to the right place. And then we had a discussion of circumcision. And then followed by a discussion of ear piercings. Tamar had a harder time with the second discussion than the first.
Jessica was babysitting a little girl named Callie today, and she brought her to lunch. Mary Jane was all over her, and they chatted about shoes. Callie was very cute, but like most children, not really interested in taking her daily nap. Quite frankly, I was a bit jealous, because I really wanted a nap already today, but felt awkward taking one since my roommate was hanging about the room.
Jessica came over to tell us Ian had gotten tickets to the circus but couldn't go; did anyone want them? If Ruth was at dinner, I would have been up for going with her, but I didn't feel much like going alone tonight (and really, I have things I am meant to stay in for: essay editing, maybe some draft writing, and possible assorted studying and reading.) I went out last night when I really wasn't meant to, and drank with Ruth and some of the other girls. Anyway, Jenny still needs to get out of her party tonight, but she didn't like the circus idea.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Almost Done...
Paper update: More editing today. Of all three papers.Teresa of Avila paper: Attempted to rework the thesis. Still sucky, but less sucky than it previously was. Professor will probably hate this paper, and not without reason, but maybe this time he won't call the writing sloppy. I suspect it'll still be better than some of the other papers in the class.
Matilda of Tuscany: Kelly read and loved it and thought it flowed well. It's okay. I feel like much of the paper is "evidence dump," by which I mean there's tons of evidence but not quite enough analyzing. Still, it's better than the Teresa paper. It's a little short length wise, but this professor loves me, so hopefully, it'll pass. Plus, I pwned the essay exam last week. I should be doing well.
Thesis: God almighty, where to begin? At this point, I think this was the worst idea ever. There's way too much info. And it's such a boring paper. 24 pages of close readings, particularly feminist and colonial interpretations. Counting appendix and bibliography, we're talking 43 pages. This one's going to cost me to print out at the computer lab. My thesis adviser
is a tough grader; I'm probably in trouble.God, what I hate most about this is that nothing is ever good enough for me. I would feel less bad about my raging perfectionism right now if what I wrote was great, but it's only so-so.
Tomorrow, my plans are to turn in papers, maybe hang with some people (like my fav professors and friends,) read outside (David Sedaris, Dave Eggers, maybe Louise Rennison), and go to the bar with Erin.
But seriously, people, do me a favor, and pray for me over these papers. Going to need it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)