Young

As a 21 year-old and senior in college I get to feel old--mature even--a lot of the time.

I have college figured out. I certainly don't feel "Shipped Off" anymore. Ithaca is my home. I have family and friends here as much as I do back in Maryland. I may still dress inappropriately for the weather ("WHERE IS YOUR COAT?" concerned northern roommates query), but at least I've finally accepted wool socks as a permanent staple in my life.

I classes I am comfortable to contribute. I am confident in my work. I don't have to figure out in advance where my classes are. Some younger members of the team ask me for advice, though they probably shouldn't because crew is just finally clicking for me. I am taking classes that are challenging but enjoyable. I get my work done.

I enjoyed this feeling of completeness and assuredness all throughout break. Then, miraculously, my future post-May began to fall into place. As I begin to grapple with even the concept of days of 9 to 5 and salaries and taxes and 401Ks, I have never, ever felt so incredibly young. I am lucky. I really am, to have a plan. But for some strange reason, after the dancing around and excitement, I feel like I'm holding my breath.

Maybe it's because the future is so radically different from now. That it's really the beginning of my story, of something I could call a career, the climb onto the bottom rung of the grisly ladder of politics. Maybe it's the realization that I've learned so much about the world and its structure, mechanisms, and eccentricities over these past four years and but I still know very little about it.

I don't know. For now I will remind myself to breathe and to enjoy the cocoon of dining halls and 6am practice and erg tests and research papers. That's okay, right?

Head of the Fish

It was freezing cold. There was snow. But, we still managed to have a great time.

(Also, I rowed in the first varsity boat for the first time. Now I can cross THAT off the college bucket list.)

Annnddd...I got to race this lovely sister of mine for the first time!

We took this last picture to show the contrast between our "big" four and "little" four. We succeeded.

21

I'm 21, guys!

It's awesome. Already. I made mature, educated choices, so don't worry. I had my first Long Island Ice Tea that wasn't made by my dad and the first margarita not made by my uncle or mother, and in both instances I realized I have been intensely spoiled all my life.

Also, it will be sad when I am actually the one purchasing these drinks. Birthdays are fun.

I was lucky enough to have my birthday over our fall break, and this meant lots of fun was to be had. I was able to explore Ithaca and its surrounding areas. We dug through second hand stores, ate fried food, navigated a 3.5 mile long corn maze with flash lights, and had an amazing time. I have never been so full, tired, muddy, and happy all at the same time.

I have incredible friends, and I am very, very lucky for that.

I also have an incredible family, who braved the absolute worst weather of all time to come watch us race at the Head of the Genesee last weekend. As one of the few crews to stay for both races, they had a long day in freezing rain and gushing wind. And yet the stayed, got soaked, and fed extremely hungry rowers. You guys rock. And seriously, after all that, I owe y'all a DRINK.

Run.

Running was torturous. It was horrible, I was terrible, and I didn't even really know how to just "go for a run." You would think it's pretty self explanatory, but as a life-long swimmer, I was at a loss. I felt like I was too far behind to start now. Too slow. Too hot. Too tired.

Today, I signed up for my first 5k race.

Crew has changed my life in many ways, but this is definitely a huge one. I cannot exercise to be less fat. I can't do cardio because I want to fit in my jeans. I exhaust myself every day because I love knowing I'm capable of more today than I was yesterday. I also like to think that come the zombie apocalypse, I will at least be able to escape from the flesh-eating ones.

I will never be a fast runner. It's just not me. I will slowly chip away at my times, sure, but that's not the point either. The point is to let everything settle down in my brain and figure out what these legs can do. I can't believe I just signed up for a race. 

Anyway, it's for a good cause. You've probably heard about it. It's So Others Might Eat. It's basically the perfect organization to do a Thanksgiving day run. If you feel like you want to help someone else have a Thanksgiving meal and also humor me, you can always donate here.  Or, better yet, run it with me or walk in it!

Guys, I feel like I’ve been neglecting you. It’s for good reasons, I promise. Can I give you a rundown? Just so that we’re caught up? Okay. Let’s.

Classes

I am only taking four classes this semester because I’m doing an internship for credit. One of them is my politics capstone seminar, “Witnessing War, Occupation, and Displacement. It’s seriously depressing, and when you spend this much time reading about the Palestine/Israeli conflict(s), you kind of start to hate everyone. It’s a good class, and it’s forcing me out of my domestic politics love-hate affair. Refreshing, it is not. Necessary? Very. This class has an average of 150 pages of reading a week. At least that is what my professor said. My calculations have it more around 200, which is getting close to tear-inducing.

I am taking creative writing with a whole bunch of freshmen. Because it is a 9am class and they are still shocked to be in college at all, they are kind of an unenthusiastic bunch. And then there is me, the old kid who comes in wet, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from practice and is just happy to be taking a class that feels FUN to me. Also, it has also brought to my attention that I find having to plan out plots irritating.

Then there is “Power: Race, Sex, and Class,” which is absolutely rocking my world. It’s taught by Zillah Eisenstein, who’s kind of a big deal. It is also depressing, and will probably turn me into a Marxist.

Finally, there’s “History of Life on Earth,” my joke of a science class. It’s taught by a paleontologist and definitely has its interesting moments, but I still feel inexplicably embarrassed anytime there is a flashy illustration of an angry dinosaur thrown in on the powerpoint. Also, Land Before Time and all its hundreds of sequels were totally inaccurate, even excluding all the talking-singing dinosaur bit.

Internship

Here’s where life gets crazy. I’m interning at an advocacy center for people with disabilities and have about four on-going projects. I go to meetings because it literally is my job. These are sometimes extremely boring (the panel on the Tompkins County Budget) and really interesting (planning a voter education event). Another one of my responsibilities is setting up a blog for this special-needs families organization. I set up a meeting for that yesterday. It went well. I was very prepared and had many ideas, but I didn’t realize I’d…have to explain how a blog works. I’m also working with Aging groups on campus, and have to attend meetings for THAT. How the heck did I become that kid? Anyway, at the end of the day I hang out with a lot of really Ithaca natives who probably live off the grid and dress entirely in organic fabrics. They are extremely nice people and I’m learning from them. Local politics are a world away from Washington, that’s for sure. 

Crew

We are currently banned from rowing because the invasive species hydrilla is taking over our inlet. Which is a huge problem. I believe the term "environmental disaster" was used. Yesterday Becky threw Tessa and me back into a double, and we managed to stay dry. That is not to say that it was a good row by any standards. I am in charge of steering, and this basically meant I panicked for 2 hours and practically hyperventillated every time we went under a bridge. It is likely that we doubled our mileage because we swerved so damn much. 

And that is all. I have no idea how to end this thought explosion/update, so, I guess...Yeah.

It's Raining in Ithaca

Shocking, I know. But it has actually been nice up here since my arrival last week--no, better than nice.

I've spent this past week trying to do little more than love college and settle into my new apartment. I'm living with 5 of the most diverse ladies you could ever imagine.

There's Ashley, my roommate extraordinaire, who somehow manages to exude equal amounts collected maturity when laughing about poop as she does when discussing neurological rehabilitation.

There's Rachel, who has really taken on the job of making our house a home. Without Rachel I'm pretty sure we'd be far less organized and far more dysfunctional.

There's Carol, who will probably be on top of the Forbes Most-Powerful list within the decade, and is the only one in the house who cannot STAND musical theatre.

There's Bekah, who majors in physical therapy, holds three jobs,  TAs in SEA KAYAKING at Cornell, and still manages to find time to serenade us on her ukelele.

And there's Maddy, who tells the absolute funniest stories I have ever heard, runs more than anyone I've ever met, and somehow manages to climb up the front balcony when she gets locked out.

This week I've taken advantage of Ithaca and just enjoyed hanging with my roommates. On Monday, the women's team went on a hike through Buttermilk Falls. Given the incline of the hike, it was more of a climb. I was sore for days. On Wednesday, we cruelly had our first 30 minute piece. I assume it was supposed to be a sick "happy first day of classes!" present. I destroyed it, and became relieved that all that running in the DC humidity this summer seems to be paying off.

On Saturday, we took advantage of the heat and went swimming in the gorges. I haven't taken enough time over my four years to appreciate the incredible nature around Ithaca. Nothing caps off a summer like swimming under a waterfall.

Sunday, by some strange twist of fate, I got wrapped into an all-day beach volleyball tournament. Yes, we have a sand court on campus. No, I do not know how to play volleyball. Yes, I actually kind of figured it out. No, I do not have any sort of future in this sport. However, it was a hilarious and exhausting experience, and I'm glad I did it. If you're wondering, my team lost in the finals.

On Monday we ran a timed mile and I ran nearly 3 minutes faster than I ever did in high school. Really. I mean, sure, I was originally quite terrible, but that's pretty darn cool, right?

And then on Tuesday I got paired with my fellow tall blonde teammate Tessa to scull a double. We were excited because Becky assigned us to the super new, thin, fast, flashy WinTech. It was actually our downfall, because:

1. I have sculled with other people probably twice in my life.

and

2. Tessa had one of her oarlocks backwards

and

3. The two of us enjoyed distracting each other like the 4 year olds we are.

and

4. The thing was like the weight of a pen.

and

5. I don't even know.

All of these factors are what I assume led the two of us to flip into Cayuga's grimy waters on a gray, chilly Ithaca afternoon. Only our egos were hurt, and we laughed the whole rest of practice. Even with the cold.

The Odyssey: Earthquake Edition

At first I thought someone was just kicking the desk. The interns are in a tiny office, we’re used to things like that. Then, things began to slide. The shaking grew stronger. The three of us looked at each other, in a “It’s not just me, right?” moment. Quiet. Papers float lazily to the floor.

The Congressman appears in the doorway. “Guys, we gotta go.”

The staff is already in the hallway. They’ve had emergency training, and that training says to either hide or run. When you’re on the 7th floor like us, you run.

It’s not until I see the faces surrounding me as people flood down the stairs that everything goes cold and all I think about is my hand grasping the rail and my feet tapping the marble stairs. Once outside, everyone whips out their cell phones and find out that it wasn’t an attack--it was an earthquake.

I don’t whip out my cellphone, because all my phone does is call people, and it was also with all of my belongings still in the office. It was almost amusing watching the masses of congressional staffers exclaim, “Oh no! MY BLACKBERRIES!” practically in unison.

A half-hour later, we were still outside and the wait wasn’t looking promising. The initially terrifying situation turned into an excuse to party. Staffers passed us carrying boxes of Coronas and Bud Light from the nearby liquor store. We started brainstorming possible headlines and the inevitable puns that would be used throughout the news for days to come. Their favorite possibility was “Congressman Returns to Save Interns!”

Waiting outside was getting, well, hot. Luckily, this is DC and everyone has connections. And this is how I ended up in former Congressman Moore’s townhouse, taking refuge from the sun.  The Congressman and his wife were just about the sweetest people I have ever met, and they took an entire office of people they hadn’t met before, gave the older ones beers and the younger ones, like myself, colas.

Once we were notified that the offices wouldn’t be opening until late that night, I decided I had to strike out on my own to find my father. I borrowed a phone to call Dad, who gave me simple directions which unfortunately involved roads that were closed (Independence) and roads that didn’t actually connect to Independence at all. These understandable mishaps, combined with my horrible-terrible sense of direction, resulted in my wandering southwest DC for quite some time--moneyless, phoneless, slightly panicky, and in extremely uncomfortable shoes.  Finally, the good folks at the Department of Education were able to give me good directions, and I shuffled up to my Dad’s office, cranky and tired. He did his fatherly duty and sent me on my way with a metro card, a phone, and an old copy of “Sports Illustrated.”

The metro, which typically experiences delays if someone sneezes in Virginia, was shockingly still running. It was going at an extremely reduced speed. This is understandable, because there was like, um, an earthquake or whatever. But it still took me so long to get home that my dad, who left far after I did, beat me home on his bike. I immediately collapsed on the couch. That is how most of my stories end.

Thus ends my own personal Odyssey, alternatively titled: “How I survived an earthquake and got evacuated and went to a congressman’s house and then got lost in uncomfortable shoes.”