Young husband or dad, collar unbuttoned, crossing the hazy Stew Leonard’s parking lot to the car; topped-up propane tank in one hand and a hot dog with the works in the other.
Shade, warbled on the pavement as sunlight filters through leaves. Shelter beside the farm stand down the street. Corn on the cob. Tomatos, small but homegrown.
Pomegranate and persimmon sky over the backyard. Hold up an empty collins glass, frame the sun and you could be toasting a tequila sunrise.
My mother’s time lapse between telling me sorrowfully about London’s tube terror attacks this morning and saying, “At least when you were in New Zealand, I never once worried,” lasted approximately fifty-three minutes. It was the first thing that crossed my mind; the fact that, in an alternate universe or perhaps under very slightly different circumstances, I could have, would have been living in London this Spring, ridden the subway every day, known friends and a home in that old, imperial city.
As they continue to update the death toll and injury counts I find myself thinking, at least it isn’t September 11th, with the shower of soot and ashes raining down as if from clouds of fire, blackening the streets as confusion and fear darted across Manhattan. And even then, when mobile phone systems were shut down in case terrorists used phones to set off their bombs, we all knew the unspoken reason: in case there are more traps set. Hidden and waiting for the perfect moment to go off because ‘surprise! It’s not over yet.’ There is the thought, could it have been worse? Was it supposed to be worse? Were the streets of London meant to be swarmed with even more panicked people running for their lives?
And for the people who did run, for anyone who gasped for fresh air in the smoky arteries of London’s transportation system and wondered if they would be able to escape, it doesn’t get any worse. Every passenger has a new phobia. They will hesitate to cross the gap and flinch when the doors shudder closed. Would-be passengers chill when they realize, “I was supposed to be on that train.”
It frightens me that we live in a time when there is a “classic Al Qaeda” As if practiced, method terror is just like a barbeque with “classic summer food,” or a cheesy romantic movie with a “classic fairytale ending.”
Tom Cruise is an actor. How do we know he’s not just acting all crazy and carrying the part with Academy Award caliber emotion and credibility? After all, he’s done the research. He understands the history of psychiatry. That man knows what ritalin is made of. Maybe he’s just been doing all this research to get in character. A character that knows so much about the drugs that he doesn’t believe in that he could probably produce them by hand, he just doesn’t because he disagrees with their uses and purpose in society. Am I being glib?
Tommy claims to be the sort of person who will research and learn about subjects in order to form an objective and educated opinion. I claim to be the same sort of person. My mom was the first person to mention his inflammatory and insolent remarks about Brooke Shields using anti-depressant drugs and therapy to treat post-partum depression, and she was pretty burned up about it, going so far as to declare a boycott against his new movie (nobody is hurting if she doesn’t go see it – I don’t think my mom has been inside a movie theater since Tom Cruise was married). Then, Brooke’s “War of Words” response came out in the NYT Op-Ed. Feeling like I needed more background information before I could make my judgment, I turned to my ever searching Google and was deluged with articles, blog responses, a boycotting petition and even a free verse frown from Rosie O’Donnell; critical analysis, fans turned away, and 176,000 raised eyebrows came up in the search results.
Tom Cruise accused Matt Lauer of being glib. The pronunciation of the word glib strikes me as a little bit glib. That’s pretty much how I’m going to remember Tom Cruise for the rest of my life. That crazed look in his eye every time he says “scientology” and the way he furrowed his once Sexiest Man Alive brow when he and the way he laughed gleefully maniacally after looking over at Katie Holmes and saying, “I can’t restrain myself.”
Please, Tom, do try.
Title inspired by ::chicka chicka:: Robby Stanley, who finished his grace at Holly’s Thanksgiving dinner table with “Amen on this lovely Thanksgivin’ Diz-ay.”
My Thanksgiving dinner was far less eventful, but it was nice to be home for the holidays instead of a minor surgical procedure. Of course, I had the annual “Big Thanksgiving Decision” to make. Freshman year it was “Roommate Homicide or Suicide?” Sophomore year it was “To De-Transfer to Mount Holyoke or Not/Semester Off?” This year it was “University College London or Victoria University Wellington, New Zealand?” It all started with everyone telling me that I would never get into UCL and I was so afraid that I wouldn’t get to go anywhere, so when Holly said, almost kidding, “You should just apply to New Zealand and come with me,” I decided I might as well.
By then, I was accepting the idea of not going to London and getting excited about this new adventure in my future. Which is why I was extra shocked when the rep from the Butler program called to tell me that “Sometimes the universe goes awry and even I have been known to be wrong, you did get into UCL.” Bring on the internal conflict. How do you compare London and New Zealand? Well, you don’t. In the end, instincts and logistics all pointed to Victoria, so pending acceptance (which is said to be gauranteed if my GPA is +2.7!), I will be leaving for Wellington, New Zealand in Febryary, 2005.
I’m sort of sad about London. I have to get used to not feeling like I’m missing out or like I’m breaking from the timeless English major in the UK mold. I’m also still sort of revelling in the fact that UCL accepted my application even though my GPA was short a few tenths-of-points. Was it a fluke? My advisors seem to think so. But what have I learned in the last year? Not everything is a promise, not everything is a sign. I have a habit of believing that words or events or flukes all mean something, but I’m trying to remember that even though things happen for a reason, individuals are also responsible for their own choices and all I can do is follow whatever path I can forge for myself. And if that path is leading me down under, well, who am I to resist?
On Friday I babysat for the Cass’s (as documented below) and on Saturday, Lauren and I hung out in Dunkin’ Donuts discussing the finer points of ghetto-speak, a metalanguage of middle Ridgefield, as ccollette might say. And tonight I’m back at school, working on homework in the library, with a job at the Gap (back again!) over J-Term and a new found appreciation for oversized My Little Ponies.
Me and my grumpy honey monkey girl
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Quote of the day: “But the day came when you were standing by the ocean, and I found the courage to stand next to you, I remembered the dream, where you were the angel” – Rebecca Riots
it’s weird to spend eighteen years living with your family, move out for a year of college, stay out for a summer at camp, put in another four months at a different college and then move home for eight months. it’s weird, but it’s special. i didn’t want to come home feeling like i was turning back the time or giving up, and i never had a chance to feel that way. there are moments when it drives me a little nuts that i don’t have four symmetrical college years, but that passes and i don’t mind how confused i’ve felt because i’ve experienced so much hanging while i’ve been hanging in the balance.
it would be easy to regret transfering to hamilton last fall. it would be easy to say that i was following a whim, i was bored, or i was just being stubborn about adjusting to mount holyoke. i think it had to happen when it did. my theory: if i had never transferred, i would never have left, but if i had never transferred, i would never have come back. if you know me like i know me, we both know that i would have always been itching to get out and move on. it was weird to be so excited about hamilton, and then find myself feeling the same restless energy under my skin, like it never went away.
i don’t regret anything. i lightly rue the temporary disorder in my life, i hope i don’t feel that sort of stress and dissonance again for awhile, and that when i do, i’ll be able to handle it as well, i roll my eyes and shrug, but now i know where my feet stand and that i can walk in any direction, and i know i will find whatever i’m looking for eventually, even if it takes a few more journeys. the first of which will be back to mount holyoke. today is moving day!
quote of the day: “’cause life is such a changing art, life is such a changing art” – dar williams
if you know me, you know that i can be, will be, and always am incredibly stubborn. and if you know me and you’ve ever had a fight with me, specifically a fight in which i am, probably as a result of my being so stubborn, the antagonist, you know that my stubbornness is reflected through my arduous loathing of apologies. i’d rather mix a cd, or send a cute text message, or bake cookies and then decorate them, too. and if, for some reason, i am in a position to be hearing an apology, i’d much rather the other guy broke out the mp3’s or the cell phone or the chocolate chips and frosting, too.
what does apologizing do anyway? it doesn’t undo anything. the concept of the apology is all about forgiveness and understanding. okay, maybe talking things through can be enlightening, but can also be a very hard thing to do!
i’m a fan of secret code apologies. you know, sometimes you can replace actual official apologies with other polite phrases. “thank you” and “you’re welcome,” accompanied by an allusive look and an eloquent pause, are good examples. the other person has to get the secret code or it doesn’t work. but when it does work, everyone is aware of the mutual forgiveness and understanding, and it’s much less messy.
speaking of manners, and things people with good manners say, you know how you can thank someone? thank, it’s a verb. when you say “thank you,” that’s thanking someone. so, what is it called when that someone says “you’re welcome?” welcome is a verb, but not in this context. are you “you’re welcoming” them? i think, probably, no.
quote of the day: “i don’t get many things right the first time, in fact, a am told that a lot. now i know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls, brought me here.” – ben folds
today was the deadline for online preregistration for students on leave (that’s me!). without really thinking about it, i registered for twenty credits. that doesn’t actually have even semi-set-in-stone implications on my academic schedule in the fall since it’s only pre-registration and there is always lots of class shopping left do once all the fiesty, indecisive ladies return to the halls of mhc, but i think the five course road is a good one to travel. i need two extra credits anyway, to make up for my semester off, and i’d rather get them out of the way now and bypass any future classyear/promotion confusion later on. i’m a little hesitant to overdo it my first semester back, but i don’t want to be worried about a couple of forsaken credits as a senior.
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so my courses are:
english 265 literature for children
(writing-intensive course) this is a survey course. we will explore contemporary american children’s literature from three perspectives: how children’s books stack up as literature, how they speak to issues in children’s development, and how they reflect and shape social issues and values.
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english 311 chaucer’s stories and storytellers
this course provides a close reading of the greater part of the canterbury tales, with collateral study of their intellectual, social, and historical context. the goal of the course is to understand the complex interplay among poetic form, social criticism, humor, sexuality, and spirituality that characterizes the stories.
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latin american studies 180 introduction to latin american cultures
examines the confrontation, assimilation, and transformation of amerindian, african, and european cultures in latin america from the sixteenth century to the present. focuses on the processes in which distinctive self-images emerged in the region and how these images have been challenged and changed over time. uses films, literature, and folk traditions to complement scholarly analyses of the emergence of a new world mentality.
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religion 230 spirituals and the blues
(speaking and writing-intensive course) this course examines and analyzes african american music as a primary textual source for understanding philosophical and religious language within that community. it addresses various questions: what are the central philosophical and religious themes expressed within the text? how are these themes reflected in the music? what is the intrinsic character of the spirituals and the blues? is there such a thing as a “music of oppression?” in what way(s) does the black experience contribute to philosophical and religious understanding, as well as the use of language? what does this material suggest about the connections among art, literature, and experience?
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philosophy 205 ethics
is morality relative to individual preferences? would you rather be free or happy? are friends necessary for a good life? would you rather be a satisfied pig or a dissatisfied student? these questions illustrate some of the issues that will be raised by the ancient and modern ethical philosophers we shall explore in this course, looking at sources as varied as novels, canonical philosophic texts, and even children’s stories.
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the lit courses obviously fulfill requirements for my major. the latam course satisies the multicultural requirement. i chose the others somewhat randomly based on the professors, topics, and of course the meeting times. spirituals and the blues is ideal for this semester b/c it meets for two hours only once a week so it won’t conflict with anything else even with the five class hours to navigate. and i can take it, or the ethics course pass/fail and not have to worry about it too much, but still get the extra credits. if i change anything, i’d switch into an education class or a physical science to meet the (blah) distribution requirement.
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i like picking courses b/c it’s like the beginning of the semester when all my notebooks are clean, my pencils are sharp, everything is organized and the air smells like the first day of school. i’m always so motivated during the first few weeks of fall classes. i wish i could go back to campus for that part and have another vacation, b/c i think i’m going to need it!
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quote of the day: “it was one of those perfect english autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.” p.d. james
yesterday morning, when i heard that saddam hussein had been captured, it took me a minute to really believe what had gone down while i slept. on the one hand, here is this tyrannical, narcissistic, violent coward in handcuffs, finally. on the other hand, it was a very anti-climactic end to the eight month show-down. even the captain who found hussein in his hole in the ground with his mars bars and his rotting fruit said, “there it was. it wasn’t the blaze of glory we expected.” god bless them for their sacrifices and their bravery, they got lucky. they were on their day off for heaven’s sake.
and what does this change, really? those soldiers won’t get home for christmas. iraq is still a bedlam of economic and political chaos. international alliances have been jeopardized. the random deaths of american soldiers and the war itself still go without honest justification. confusion and uncertainty reign both iraq and american now that hussein has been dethroned. and osama bin laden, remember him? he still sleeps in his own cave somewhere in afghanistan.
i guess mr. bush looks pretty good right now. he woke up one white house morning to discover that 600 soldiers (he’ll never know their names) had fulfilled the bush legacy he’d been holding out for since i was in the first grade.
i still love you, america. peace.
quote of the day: “ladies and gentleman, we got him.” – l. paul bremer