See my awesome boyfriend DJ with his awesome DJ friends at Par Lounge in Wicker Park. (Spoken like a true girlfriend.) For further reference, please see fliers that J and I made together:
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Friday, June 6, 2008
Looking for something to do in Chicago on any Friday in June?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Losing The Game on the (dance) floor
Unfortunately for some of us, the sheeplike cult of men following Neil Strauss's advice from The Game are no exception to this rule.
If you've somehow missed The Game phenomenon, Strauss's advice goes a little something like this: to pick up a woman, put her down. Nothing as awful as, You, your family and entire ancestry are an irrevocable blemish upon society. But something more along the lines of, That shirt doesn't look good on you. And after perhaps the girl's initial outrage, he subsequently follows up with, It'd be better if it were blue to match your eyes. Wrap up that compliment in a good, old-fashioned neg.
This negging [thanks, Urban Dictonary] is supposedly wildly successful. Far be it for me to argue with this—even Ugly Betty had an episode where Betty herself was duped.
But then you get men like this one, who we'll call Sugar.
Andrea and I had decided to make our low-key girls' night into an all-out rager, stopping first in Boystown to see J spin at Scarlet and then trekking over to Smart Bar for their 25th Anniversary party featuring Green Velvet.
Inside Smart Bar, we were greeted by a pummeling bass beat and the sweatiest, pushiest, most enthusiastic-about-techno men I've ever seen before. (If you're looking for a point of reference, check out this YouTube video from the night, which features some of the much tamer parts of Green Velvet's Shake and Pop.)
Somewhere between this huge bald guy stepping on my feet and then making like a door in front of us and another dude passionately breaking into dance and spilling half his amaretto sour on me, Sugar showed up.
"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE READING A BOOK!" screams Sugar.
Here's our first problem—only I can hear this neg since Sugar is standing directly behind me. Sugar is standing four modest feet away from Andi, his shouts drowned out by Green Velvet's ball-busting beats.
"WHAT?" Andi yells back, clearly confused as to why Sugar's trying to launch into conversation on the dance floor, right next to the subwoofer.
"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE READING A BOOK!" Sugar repeats. "LIKE A LIBRARIAN!"
(Nice example!)
"WHAT?" Andi looks at me this time.
At this point, Sugar yells more about how Andi looks like a girl who would have a good time and she should show it because she doesn't seem to be having any fun, but he confuses the order of his delivery, trails off and ultimately ends up relaying the message to her through me.
So there we are, with drinks spilled on us and our feet stepped on, and here's this guy telling Andi (through me) to look happier.
As I finish relaying this message to her, Andi snaps around and shoots Sugar an icy look underneath a squinched-up brow. Fortunately for him, Sugar looked like he'd drank plenty of the sugar water and didn't seem to notice Andi's disapproval.
I'm proud of Sugar for going out there, putting himself on the line, knocking women down a couple pegs so he can try to improve his station in life, love, or whatever else. And I won't argue with this negging idea by getting on my ladylike side saddle high horse and disputing it.
But I'm pleading with Neil Strauss and the publishers of The Game--in the next edition, spell out each step for these guys--if the girl can't hear you, the neg won't work. Maybe save those negs for somewhere with better acoustics... like say, a library?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Summer in the city
Things are slow, quiet. And for the most part, that's good. After the boiling hot/smelly subway/New York chaos that was last summer, the lazy, beachy, part-time employed life is somewhat welcome for one last Summer Vacation. Not to mention, that being away from New York as long as possible is good considering who knows how long I may spend in my future there...
I spent yesterday morning with Hayley at the Farmers' Market where we bought raspberries, blueberries, and various other goodies. We subsequently packed ourselves turkey bagel sandwiches and threw on our swimsuits for a trip to beach. We basked in the sun for almost four hours, catching up, reading, plunging in the cool lake and throwing a frisbee around in the waves. It was great.
It was also nice to spend some time with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. It seems so hard--maybe at this age, or maybe forever--to keep in touch with friends. I've spent quite a few nights here saying "goodbye" to people, promising to keep in touch, and wondering if we ever will. I also keep running into friends and acquaintances on the street, half-making plans to go get dinner or a drink and seemingly never following through on the promise made. I can't help but wonder if sometimes an unreturned or unmade phone call is my fault or the fault of someone else, or if it's no one's fault and we're all so busy. But then I find myself sitting around on a sunny afternoon and thinking that it should be another day at the beach or something of the like.
There must be some delicate balance between the quiet buzz of the air conditioning in a room by one's self and the loud roar of a college party. It's just hard to find in the middle of July when it's almost 100 degrees outside, I suppose.
Monday, June 4, 2007
thoughts upon graduation
I'm running on little to no sleep from the last few days, but it's important that I update now.
I'm done.
Done with college, that is.
After a website crashing, recreating it, a finished documentary, and an econ final in the last, well, three days, I'm done.
If it were not for sitting at John's computer, listening to the raging theater party outside my window and having just returned from Jeff Redinger's apartment where I hung out with freshman year Willardite-types, I might be able to fully appreciate and comprehend that phrase--I'm done.
But instead, I languish in the residue of heat, the drip of the Ridge and Davis air conditioners, and the darkness of this darkened room and pretend that this is not it. That this might be another beginning.
And I suppose, ultimately, it is. But how can one move forward when one is too busy looking behind her?
So I will allow myself this time to decompress, to wax nostalgic, and to do whatever it is that all graduating seniors do (drink? cry? repress?) in the next week before graduation. Perhaps I will be ready. And perhaps I won't.
But at the end, for most of my life, I will be a Northwestern graduate. So for now, I will relish in this threshold--this in-between--and wait.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
It's Finals Week
And I'd be remiss not to mention that after running into Grant and Scott, who were carrying an emptied Heineken box full of Rockstar Energy Drink, red cups, two ping-pong balls, and--for some reason--orange juice, I have now seen two "grown" college men play energy drink pong in an emptied library tower past closing time. And now we are sitting in the dark, backed up against a wall and testing our computers to make sure they will turn off at a moment's notice if someone should open the door to this room to make sure it's empited.
I guess it's college, and I'll enjoy it while it lasts.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Senior Year
"I look back and can't remember most of my undergraduate career," Brett said over Dixie Kitchen brunch yesterday. "I mean, I know I took twelve classes, but I couldn't really tell you much about them."
After I finished my cheese grits and eggs benedict, I went home, filled up a suitcase with used textbooks and drove to Norris. I got $98.75 for roughly two dozen books that culminated most of my own twelve classes that I cannot remember either. Now I don't even have the books to prove I took them.
Though I won't admit it any other time except now, I spontaneously cry sometimes just by looking at Facebook or my room. I'll pick up my high school scrapbook and the people in the pictures look back at me from a different dimension. Some are now strangers. Some have passed on to the next life. Some, were it not for facebook, I could not tell you where they are or what they love.
And, I think, is this what becomes of the now? Four years down the road, will I look through pictures and say, I wish I still had the love we had in that relationship. I wish I knew what she was doing. I wish I had known him better.
There's so much pressure to get it right--this senior year thing. And who can?
Later that night, I met some of my favorite people for margaritas and burgers, shared some laughs, got drunk and played games, sang until my throat hurt, and had a sleepover. I may not get everything perfect, and I may keep making some of the same mistakes that I keep trying to fix, but for the meantime, I'm doing the best I can.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
A New Kind of Experiment, that may lead to lots of humiliation
I once read about drunk blogging... the process of drinking and blogging at the same time. Tonight, at the risk of all things good in my life, I will accomplish this feat while a Streetbeat Party happens right outside my bedroom.
Now understand--during most Streetbeat Parties, I sit in my room and drink the Streebeat DJs' booze and surf the Internet. Tonight should be about the same, but with this whole blog thing thrown in. I will now go steal some of their vodka to add to my Hpnotiq to make my first cocktail of the evening at 10:30 P.M.
11:23 P.M.: As far as Streetbeat parties go, this one is kicking. Not only are there no theater majors here this time, but more than three DJ's showed up. However, par for the course, they are all dudes. Most of them are dudes I don't know. I literally can hear grunting outside of my room. Here are a few of the dudes:
Dude 1, whom we shall call "Juan," is that dude who girls just love but don't date because they're pretty sure they'll somehow fall short of him because so far he seems perfect. John and I have tried to hook Juan up in the past but with no success. Juan is a total catch--good looking, smart, multitalented, enthusiastic about life and the things he does with his own, all that jazz. Juan is still available.
Dude 2, whom we shall call "Old Guy What's He Doing Here?" or OGWHDH?, arrived a healthy forty-five minutes late. OGWHDH, although old, is hip. He brought Beefeaters. For discussion: What's better? Beefeaters or Bombay? Talk amongst yourselves.
Dude 3, whom we shall call "Headphones Guy," wears headphones in the cold like they are earmuffs. For him, it's a fashion statement, but for everybody else, it's just a big mistake. Headphones arrived at the party ready to go.
Dudes 4 and 5, whom we shall call "Freshmen," arrived before anybody else did.
11:34: (wondering how much bass these apartments can handle before they shatter into pieces) Matt's part over at Church and Ridge has already been broken up, evidently. People attempted to enter the WNUR Streetbeat's free party, and were immediately turned away. Electronica DJ's are harsh.
11:46: My favorite thing about college parties is the mindless chatter. I just met a freshman girl (Note: Count is now: Girls: 2, Boys: 34, or something like that) who told me how she is choosing between Classics and Economics as a major. God love her. This conversation subsequently turned into an awkward conversation about majors and futures with four or fives individuals. We made several conclusions based on generalizations and then laughed at everybody who wasn't one of our majors to make ourselves comfortable, (SESP's!!!). I also was rewarded with champagne for walking into the room. This is another very uniquely COLLEGE experence. Nowhere else will you arrive into a place and will people shower you with booze. "Hooray! You're here! Now we'll take Peppermint Patty Shots!" Only if you're between the ages of 18 and 22.
11:50, one more thought before I go: I asked that girl how she was "liking it." What a bitchy thing to say! Oops. I'll go make up for it.
11:57
12:12 I met a bunch of people in my kitchen. I don't know who they are. One girl asked me how I got the real martini glass with the slice of lime. I told her, "Suck it." Actually, I said, "i live here."
A Haiku:
If you live with me
You can drink all that I have
Otherwise shut up.
12:46: Ran out of booze, Mike goes to Jesss's in order to grab tequila...to salvage the situaion with tequila and raspberry vodka... Mike comes in room, asks where John is, we dont' know . Go find him. In ktichen. Telling off Dude Number 6.
1:01: Mike got an audition at Yale. Jess didn't. It's ok though. ((input by Jess)) We're all here now.
1:10: I tried to get Dude #7 out of here. It didn't work. He just asked me how New York was. Jess said I was drunk.
1:11 Guy came in said "Hey what's up". Caitlin said "heeeeeey". Guy said "uh" and left. ((input by jess))
1:14 Wine glass broken by Pete in kitchen... That makes 2/4 for Julie. All of all for Caitlin?
1:26 Mike is showing off about some place in Italy (Burano...the smaller Murano, whre they make glass --input by Jess) where I (Caitlin)31 don't know.
1:41/; I'm going ro be naked all th theiml
1:46: I'm here again and this time I spilled and it was my fault. This time it was Jon's fault and I spilled it.
1:48: Oh, shit!
1:51: shit swet bedrooma~ Son'r hwre hwe hCW ROO MUXH PD RHr~ roo lRW~
2:04: Jess and Mike are on my bed, tring to make pictures. I don't like this. I also walked on on Brett trying to pick up some half-pretty girl who is not really prettyl.
2:37 : Oops.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Just a few thoughts:
I hate Stephen King's self-promoting, pretentious writing. Shoot me in the face before you tell me what a fucking metaphor is, freaky bastard.
Friday nights in cleaning an apartment really are not so bad. They're kind of gratifying.
I strangely am not broken up over being on TM and not in EV-IL. What does this mean? Why am I becoming seduced by New York? That bitch.
Today I saw this crazy dude walking the tunnel between the BDFV and 7 stations at 42nd St./Bryant Park. He was playing with those Rennaissance juggling sticks as he walked, taking up too much space. From a distance I spied two other crazy people--an old guy in a 65-year-old ladies' running jacket and his super-plump wife who was wearing reflective sunglasses, tight-ass black leggings and a huge fanny pack. Much to my delight, the crazy couple knew the crazy dude and exclaimed, "Hey, Sticks!" And my day was made by Sticks and his friends.
I like reading again. Thank God.
I have gotten thrifty in New York. Minus the drinking and going out. That's never thrifty. But today I bought probably $70 worth of beauty products for $13. I bought almost a dozen books and two records for $7 two weeks ago. And tomorrow I may or may not attend a set-up-a-booth-and-trade-stuff-for-free-that-you-don't-want-anymore fest. Awesome.
Oh, and Amy's visiting this weekend. I may or may not rub shoulders with the bridal fashion industry. Sweet?
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
Catch-up
I've been bad about really letting you know what's going on in New York, so let me actually tell you. Let's start fresh, shall we?
I'm in New York! I've never been here before, and based on first impressions, don't know if I'll ever come back. But I'll give this city some time. I have yet to do so many things, I have no right to judge yet...
...and here we are in August. I'm still in New York. The furthest away from the city I've gotten was 44th St. and 4th Ave. in Brooklyn. I'm being patient with New York, but I'm not impressed yet. Granted, I'm a self-confessed cynic and Chicago-snob, so New York is playing to the tough crowd in me.
To catch y'all up on what these first six weeks have been like for me, I'll ramble a bit and then copy-and-paste the short updates I've been keeping--those are a little more concrete.
I work Monday through Thursday. T and everybody else thinks I'm babysitting on Fridays, but I'm not. Generally, I'm sleeping late and eating lunch and watching the Tony Danza Show. Not really, I hate the Tony Danza Show.
On the days when I work, I get up around 8:30 and shower, primp and shove some Cheerios in my mouth before I dash down the one flight of stairs of my Harlem apartment. On Monday and Tuesday J doesn't work and it gives me something sweet to kiss back in bed before I leave.
As I walk to the subway, I focus my energy on that particular New York attitude of mild non-chalance, or more likely, aggressive indifference. I often get comments from the Harlem Old Timers who sit on their stoops or their lawn chairs that they drag onto the sidewalk--"That's my babygirl!" or, "You lookin' fine today, Mizz!" or, "That's FBI right there!" and sometimes just a "good morning." I've gotten really good at missing the subway in the morning. I have lived my life in New York by the unused white Coffeemate on our kitchen counter. 9:37 used to mean "on time" for the B-Train, but not anymore. These days, 9:37 on the Coffeemate seems to mean "oh, you just barely missed the train again!" In the last ten days, I've caught the B-Train only once or twice. No matter--nobody arrives at work til 10:10 anyway.
The morning commute is tame. I'm usually half-asleep with either a magazine, book or my iPod keeping me conscious. However absorbed I appear in said object, I am spending half my time watching my reflection in the darkened windows of the subway car. Am I, sometimes I wonder, the only person who does this? I like to watch my crossed leg bob up and down with the sway of the subway--that's something you never get to see, just like you never get to watch yourself eat.
My building is connected to the Rockefeller Center stop. I scale the stairs and escalator and prepare myself for an awkward encounter in the elevator. The Brazilian consolate is on the 21st floor of the Bank of America Building. (TOH is on the 27th.) I usually get to hear lots of Portugese which I don't understand or watch some confused traveler try to jump onto the elevator to go down when it's still going up. By the end of the ride, I'm usually with one or two other T employees who I don't know that well and we joke about the Brazilian consolate to pass the last fifteen seconds of the ride.
After a full day at work, which I usually spend in true intern fashion half-checking my mail and half-writing/researching/fact-checking, I jump back onto the B-Train and head to Harlem. J and I have been known to hit the same train while he travels back from downtown, so that's always a treat.
Living with your boyfriend when you're only 21 is interesting. I can't imagine all those kids back home in "Ah'hia" who have gotten married already. I'm still trying to keep J from joking about penises and encouraging him to clean up his video games when he's done with them, so I can't imagine trying to work out taxes and diapers with him. I suppose I feel like I'm young, but it's really fun living with John and I'm enoying it.
When we both get home, we make dinner together. J prides himself on cooking meat, so I don't usually mess with that. We have a few traditional dinners--lemon chicken, "meat mulch" (a family favorite, apparently), pasta with porkchops, pasta with butter, hamburgers, and cheese and crackers with fruit (that's my influence). We sometimes drink wine (Pinot Noir), sometimes drink beer (Sam Adams), but we both like milk (non-fat) the best. We settle in with our dinners to watch some Wheel of Fortune or throw on a Seinfeld or Arrested Development episode. Then, we exploit the rest of our Netflix subscription by watching a movie almost every night.
On the weekends when J doesn't work, we lounge in bed til 11, eat and then lounge some more. Afterward, we'll go to the park. That's a nice lifestyle. On the weekends when he does work, he gets up so early that I sleep in and then I'm sad that we're not eating lunch and lounging.
In conclusion for catching up, here is my Facebook profile's "Week-by-Week Play-by-Play of NYC" as of now:
Week 1: Welcome to New York, or alternatively, Get Shivved in the Subway If You are White and 21 Week!
Week 2: Adjustment, or alternatively, Work Gets Boring.
Week 3: Adjustment, or alternatively, Harlem Gives CC a Lesson in Tattoo Art.
Week 4: Hot-Shot in NYC, or alternatively, Get Shot in NYC
Week 5: It's a Small World Afterall, or alternatively, J's Ex Lives Across the Street From Us.
Week 6: Meeting the Neighbors, or alternatively, Your Boyfriend Leaves the Door Open and the Neighbors Walk In and You're Naked.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Tuesday, October 5, 2004
Sunday, September 5, 2004
Sentiment Abounds...
Ahh... and another close to another summer.
Although mine hits a little earlier than usual this year, and I suppose it truly IS NOT the end of summer, considering I am going on a vacation, then moving in and not having class until the 22nd... but just to call things even, let's say this is the end of summer.
I really dreaded coming home this summer. I had no idea what to expect from relationships, working, family, and just about every other extension of life that exists. As it turned out, summer ended up being pretty much a blast, if a somewhat quiet and dull blast, but a blast nonetheless. (And we can all use some quiet blasts... I think...)
This summer, as several of my friends and I have agreed upon, was meant to be an exercise in patience, stretching boundaries, and discovering self.
I worked in the same environment, but for the first time, I really genuinely enjoyed it and I got to be closer with my co-workers on the job and even off, which was nice. I finally had a rocking manager who would say things like "Fuck these shirts," while folding them.
I hung out with many of the same people, but the allotted time with all changed.
Some groups of friends, unfortunately, became drastically less, and I'm not sure I'll ever know why that happened.
People changed in the nine months I was gone, in ways that I could not recognize in the periods of time I was home for breaks. Despite the fact that while some of these changes were positive, many were negative, I find that the impact of all of these changes have been positive for me.
I have only become a stronger, more independent, and, therefore, happier person because of the changes my friends have undergone.
Although I didn't read nearly as many novels as I wanted to this summer, I found myself reading more current events than before and felt that I spent my free time well what with doodling, drawing, writing, photography taking, rural-Ohio driving/soul-searching, and finally finding the answers and making decisions about problems that have faced me for years. (No exaggeration.)
I have felt particularly validated in the last few days, spending time with Skraps Eitak (aka: Katie Sparks) and talking with her about many things. Tonight we discussed our shared dislike for the flighty and flirty female and our hope that many girls will stop blaming guys for any set-backs they face, and look to themselves to push themselves forward, and without the help of any boyfriend/fiancée/husband. Perhaps it was scary feminism-talk, but perhaps that's just what we need. I decided I'm happier than I've been with myself in months and a lot of it has to do with the feeling of accomplishment, independence, and strength I've felt recently.
I guess I'm just very quietly happy.
Although I enjoyed this summer, didn't swim enough, breathed the sweet grass of Ohio, adventured in fields and forests, partied with friends, both took classes and taught, got to wear casual to work, bonded with newer closer friends, and developed a new appreciation for the meaning of "home," I think that I might be done with "home" for summers.
I've loved it here, but things will change more and I've got my own life to lead and that comes first before everything. And that's exciting.
Sunday, July 4, 2004
Eight Points of Importance
1. Work today was actually kind of fun and flew by, despite little cashiering. Shocking, I know.
2. I am reading Word Freak, the book of Scrabble drama. I'm really excited to play Scrabble again...maybe even Speed Scrabble.
3. I went out with Abby from Old Navy after work to Fridays for a really late dinner. It was nice. I also made plans to hang out with Cat and Matt Zito to discuss F9/11 next week or so. The prospect and reality of hanging out with fun people from work after hours is wonderful.
4. Tonight I drove by Kings Island as the fireworks crowds were dispersing. It was surreal because I:
a. always go.
b. didn't go this year.
c. saw the traffic and remembered EVERY other year I've gone with Brandon, Michael, and company, leaned out the windows of the bug in dead-stop traffic and sang overly patriotic songs to people in other cars, getting them to sing along with me and my friends. There's nothing quite as wonderfully abnoxious as three lanes of traffic singing "Fifty Nifty United States."
5. I work on the Fourth. I am:
a. half sad (because I'll be working during part of my FAVORITE holiday, and I'll not get to drive around and shout overly patriotic things at people who are out in their frontyards or on their porches.)
b. half happy (because I get time and a half and can be overly patriotic to customers instead. i plan to wear some horrendous red, white, and blue outfit.)
6. Possible breakfast party with Brandon and Michael tomorrow to watch Roddick and Federer. Who's siked? I am!
7. Speaking of "siked," I watched the "Las Vegas Wedding" conclusion to Saved By the Bell: The College Years, yesterday. I never saw it before, and only now is life worth living.
8. I miss school. (Bunches.)
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Tell me what to do with my life
A few nights ago, Ryan and I had the big "Dude-we're-totally-switching-to-journal
I was so confident in my feelings about it. Yeah! Why didn't I apply Medill in the first place?? It was what I wanted to do way back when I was younger. Remember? Peter Jennings was your idol?! Okay. We've chosen something, self. Good.
Then, two nights ago, while coughing in bed (cause I do that instead of sleeping these days), I realized law school was definitely the path for me.
Sure, I maybe COULD go to Medill, maybe double major in some history or writing or something, and THEN go to law school! There IS that intership I want to do next summer...and after all, I've grown up in that environment, I'm already THINKING like a lawyer. Great! I better look at CAESAR so I can drop that stupid drawing class right away.
Last night, after compiling some of my photographs, I talked to Bryan about photojournalism.
Of course. Why haven't I thought about double majoring in the arts department. I love photography, after all. I love art! I can combine my two passions! Writing and art! And then write children's books much later when I'm older and wiser. Screw law school.
Tonight, Brandon, while sifting through my photographs and drawings on my laptop suddenly grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye and says: CC. You're always wondering what you should do with yourself. Why haven't you thought about computer graphics? You can apply yourself creatively in a great medium. You love doing this stuff. So do it!
Yeah, Brandon! I thought. You're completely right. I DO love this stuff. My favorite class in high school WAS Consumer Art! That was amazing times. I doodle with art instead of writing my papers. Doesn't that mean I love it more than writing my papers?? I should totally look into this.
-----------
Hi, my name is CC and I have a problem. I don't want to major in anything.
Except Englicomputergraphotographistoricawritin
((the city/cave to hibernate with bears/barn turned country cottage/Paris/Morocco/parents' house))
and
((go to law school/write about the experience/photograph the country/live off of tips at a local café/take photographs and write while learning the language on the fly/mooch)).
Monday, June 21, 2004
Schoolhome
Tonight I hung out with Sparks, B, Mike and KTO. I felt very out of place. They've created their own memories that I'm not a part of.
As if it's not weird enough that KTO and Mike are back together (after two summers of double dates with them. every. single. night. out. just. b/cc. mike/kto. and then them being broken up while b and i were still together...)
It's not that I feel lacking, I just feel uneasy because everything's different.
But tonight, as they, some of my closest friends who are recently graduated, talked about how weird it will be to leave home and that they can't imagine making new friends and starting new....I realized how much that other place means to me.
I sat, looking through the screen of the gazebo and grazing my fingertips over its rough surface, thinking about everyone. Individually. Considering memories with each person.
Does (this random friend, maybe you reading this) know me better than mike? my favorite person to call up and just talk for hours with? my favorite duet partner? my best hairy friend?...
better than a? my enemy for so many years turned best friend during the latter half of high school? my art buddy and favorite crazy friend?...
better than b?? b--who was my other half for so long. b--who was my stunt double, my swing dancing partner, my picnic buddy, my skinny-dipping fellow swimmer, my favorite person to bicker with, my best friend, my boyfriend. The person who brought out the best and the worst in me for four years.
Then I realized. Yeah. You do.
And even though I already knew this, the feeling is all the more visceral now. And I miss you.
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Summer Things
I came up with a Father's Day gift earlier this week and got all the necessities this afternoon while shopping with Amy. It's my Sensory Basket of Memories with Dad. It includes
1. A lottery ticket and beanie baby bear for sight (like middle school after-school trips all over again)
2. Dove Ice Cream Bars and York Peppermint Patties for taste (since my earliest memories are of sitting in my "playpen" and my dad trying to feed me those)
3. Sandalwood soap for smell (since it is his favorite)
4. A Garrison Keillor Prarie Home Companion CD for sound (I grew up listening to this with my parents in the van)
5. All wrapped up in a basket, stuffed with red tulle for touch (since when I had my first ballet recital in a red tutu, I told my dad then that it felt like his scruffy face)
Amy and I attended the Ben Folds, Guster, Rufus Wainwright concert at Fraze tonight. It was really great. Ben Folds is officially my favorite performer and I want him to be my brother.
Nothing beats him teaching the audience what a triad is and then climbing up on a piano in the heat of musical passion to get them to sing it back.
And the fact that both he and Guster walked around Kettering separately all afternoon. Ben Folds took photographs of the suburban houses, hoping not to get caught by the owners; and the lead singer of Guster bought a ten-speed bike from one of the many garage sales that he visited, deeming the bike "the best 10-speed seventies bike this side of the Mississippi."
Rufus was, of course, wonderful, but I think the order for the concert would have been better as follows: Guster, Rufus, Ben... rather than Ben, Guster, Rufus. But that's just me, and I'm a Benophile.
Other good moments included Ben Folds just sitting on the side of the stage during Guster, eating a banana...and Rufus Wainwright repeatedly apologizing for his singing, even though it was amazing as usual, and then putting it out there that no one should vote for Bush.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Being Cliché
I'm getting all sentimental. That sucks.
I just got off the phone from an hour and a half long conversation with Brandon. Before that, I was with my parents moving around storage and we drove around looking at the old "familiar" sights of Wilmette.
Yesterday involved:
One last final
Packing
Burning CDs, a lot
Goodbyes
Dinner at Panera
Running in the rain with John down Sherman
Slideshows and pizza
Dance parties
Naps at midnight
More packing
Quietly spending last nights with friends
Stayed up last night with John til 4 am talking about our coming summers. Lil Jess came in shortly thereafter and we reviewed our short college experiences til 5. What stereotypical last-few-nights talks, but I think they had to happen.
Outside my window, cars nearly ram into one another in efforts to get parking spots near the dorms. It's chaos.
So many people left today. How can it be that I feel like I still JUST got to college and yet I have such a connection with a still unfamiliar place?
I was still just getting to know so many people and I don't want summer to interrupt. I'm, of course, anxious to get home and try to settle back into my old skin, but I don't know if that's going to be completely possible.
Sorry to make this cliche end-of-my-freshman-year-at-college entry, but I think...it had to happen. :)
Monday, June 7, 2004
I've Been Doing Things
I've had an incredible end to this school year. I couldn't have asked for more in the last few days. Well, could someone cancel my exams this week? That'd be okay. I cannot possible describe the fun I had Saturday Luau'in, beachin', and music/movie/rearrangin' roomin' it up. Friday was amazing as well, what with finishing up a course a week early and seeing Harry Potter 3. So, in an abreviated version... Here are photos to let you know what I've been up to...
He almost managed to get me back...
Bryan and I in sepia-toned action.
Don't worry. We're still best buds, but we just taste better! 
Ryan and Barrak fighting.
I think I look like the Virgin Mother of Pudding in this photo. 
The dirty girls. 
The aftermath. 
PS. I love life.
Monday, May 31, 2004
I Went to Dillo Day, Too!
No really. I did. I pulled myself out of the library for a good solid 24 hours to partake in the festivities...
Friday night, I saw NSTV, of which the most impressive portion was probably the opening shot/credits and Robert's Oregon Trail sketch. Indeed! I was "lucky enough" to get into Sax and Dixon at 11, and in between the two shows saw part of Dark Side of the Moon up at Norris and drank hot chocolate. After all the fun visual stimuli, many a person went to Sig Ep to dance. On the way home, I purposely fell off Brett's back and almost took out...Andy? maybe? Alex Robins? maybe?...Well, point is I almost hurt someone else on top of myself. I like to take people down with me.
Saturday, went something along the lines of this:
11 am...wake
11:30 am...realize Master Gary meant he wanted an "OLD FASHIONED" way to show his slides, but instead get awesome hour long convo about all his amazing experiences.
1 pm...Walk up with John to see Foster Walker Complex, meet up with Chris Britt for lunch
3 pm...Relaxing, drinking, eating in Jason's room whilst sitting in the window seat
4 pm...The M's :), meeting The M's, laying in sunshine
6 pm...Gavin Degraw...asshole extraordinaire, observation of crazy girls who scream and throw underwear on stage, admittance that the guy is a performer
7:30ish...Dinner with David, John, and Tom
8:15ish...Wine and drum corps with David
9 pm...The Wailers with David, Bryan, and John, dancing, feeling happy, watching fireworks, singing along, smiling
10:30ish...4 friends, sitting on lakefill, talking about respective homes.
11:15ish...Kafein with David, Bryan, and John for milkshakes to go
...rest of the evening in blurred frenzy...
watching game of Mafia///talking with friends whilst laying in hallway///more wine and drum corps with David///more drum corps in Rat Trap with David and John///techno dance party with John in Rat Trap///listening to Queen and falling asleep in Brett's bed///waking up to Brett trying to get in bed with me at 10 am.
Monday, February 16, 2004
One Promised Sappy Entry, Dedicated to Amy T
She let down her hair and put her foot out the window. She talked about it briefly, "You know, why don't people put their feet out the window more often?" I agreed and when I looked over again, hers were dangling, blocking the side mirror.
Just another lazy humid Ohio afternoon. We had promised earlier we wouldn't get ice cream. We laughed about the prospect of college as we pulled through the Dairy Queen window for the second time that day.
Finding ways to amuse ourselves, we grabbed tape decks and danced to Boys II Men, reliving our childhoods and eagerly anticipating mid-September.
We covered the Beetle in words, just to get reactions. A small success. We secretly hung outside the school, completely conspicious in our Vapor vehicle, and waited for siblings.
Along the creek, we stopped for breath before we ran down the stairs, our legs screaming with pride and pain. One unplanned night under the stars in the water and one on the porch in anger. We drove for miles without getting to that rundown barn...but we had our feet hanging out the window, the self-help tapes blaring in the deck, and one small soft serve in each of our hands. We were just fine.
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