Fake Break Snapshots

It is break. I DID IT. And it feels amazing. Now, Ithaca College, if you could give me my grades please that would be fabulous.

I thought I'd provide you with a few snapshots for you to understand how great break has been in just a few short days. Not that I actually have pictures. I totally left my camera at home after Thanksgiving break, because I would do that. Guess I'll just have to write a thousand words or whatever.

Here's a non-existent photo of Ashley and me saying goodbye. I am probably inexplicably tearing up and envisioning a whole month without Glee dance parties and cheeseburger conversations. Oh, and there I am smothering her in a hug.

Here's one of me loading insane amounts of junk into my grandparents' pick-up truck. Note their stunned faces in reaction to the amount of stuff I thought I'd need for a month.

And then there's this great one of Amma, Pappa and I all dressed up, heading into the Buffalo Club. Now note MY stunned face at the amazing Christmas decorations. It is almost the same face I had when I saw the chocolate cake for dessert.

Here's one of these insanely flexible Christmas-ornament people from the Cirque de Soleil Christmas show. My face is a mix of wonder and fear, because these people are totally going to fall and die, I KNOW it, bodies don't bend like that, OH MY GOD DON'T DO THAT STOPPPP, oh....well, that was actually awesome! They survived! I am enjoying this.

Here is a picture of Amma and me bowling. That stank face I have on is merely a natural reaction to the fact that I was losing. Repeatedly. It was actually a blast though.

And then there's Amma, Pappa, and me at the Sabres/Penguins hockey game, only a few rows away from large men being thrown largely into the glass over and over and over. We are extremely happy because we got to eat cheeseburgers AND have awesome seats. I am wearing my hat because it's kind of cold but for the first time ever I am actually dressed appropriately.

I know, right?

Here's one a stranger took of me sprawled in the airport for forever, because DC decided to get buried under snow for forever. But I got there! And then waited for Claire for forever, with my Dad.

And in this one my Dad and I are sitting in the car and he is exasperated already and trying to convince me my eye isn't going to explode just because it's a little irritated. I'm not buying it.

Here's Claire and me with our girls in the back room with a fire. We are eating brownies and cool whip and watching and providing running commentary on this year's Lifetime Christmas movie. Which is totally not about Christmas at all. "What the hell!" asks Laura, "WHY IS IT JULY IN THIS MOVIE?"

And here I am, blogging in my bed, getting ready to head up to the great New England for Christmas.

If I don't blog before, have an amazing, happy, and healthy Christmas.

I refuse to complain any more about finals

I do.

Things are great. Ish. I mean, I really shouldn't complain.

I did go a little crazy this afternoon when the two fake-ly tanned orange girls next to me in the computer lab wouldn't stop squawking at each other in Jersey language. I even stopped working on my paper for a minute and tweeted about my anger. I then realized I for a split second I was that jerk in the computer lab on Twitter. Sigh.

I also finished News Writing and Reporting I today. Forever, WHICH IS AMAZING. The name was totally misleading because it should have been called "Fight With Irrelevant and Useless Technology to Say Something Kind of Sort of Coherent That You Could Have Just Written About in 500 Words and Been Done With It for a Semester...I." Obviously I am not in line with the times. Why did I sign up for this again? Oh right. To be a writer. To seek truth. Etc.

Sigh. Again.

Anyway, I emerged from the cave of News I after listening to 2.5 hours of presentations and found the ground entirely covered in snow! I was gleeful. I am not going to lie to you. There was more than a little frolicking occurring on my way back to my dorm.

Now I'm watching the snow fall and semi-writing my last paper. Then, tomorrow I'm buckling down for my last exam on Thursday.

Yes. Cue the final countdown music. Or some sort of dramatic montage of my past accomplishments. Fade out on a picture of me on top of some sort of mountain, gazing out heroically on a gorgeous future of couch-laying and wood stove fires.

So maybe my brain's a little fried.

Guess What I'm NOT Doing Right Now

Oh, that's right. I'm not writing papers.

You see, as I was reading through my sources for my next paper, I decided I did not feel like writing it at all.

In the past week I have presented on extraordinary rendition and written 10 pages about torture policy. Last night I started my 8 pager on hate crime legislation. Now I'm working on a final essay about witnessing injustices in the West Bank. THIS IS NOT CHRISTMAS.

My roommate and I were so fed up with the general crappiness of these past few weeks that we totally exchanged presents on like, Wednesday. We "wrapped them" in a sweatshirt and a towel. It was awesome. We also like to play music if we're not too focused, which means sometimes I was researching torture memorandums and she was studying fetal pig insides while listening to Christmas music. College, right?

But in general I think I have everything under control. I'm finished with classes. It's unreal because I'm pretty sure I just got here. Just like I just started crew. But somehow it ended up being a gigantic part of my life. One of the best parts, I'd say. It's certainly the sweatiest. Now we don't have practice January.

I have a week until I'm finished with this semester. It's go time. I'm locking down and finishing this stuff.

Switchcast and Other Stories

On Saturday morning I got my butt (and my poor, poor news director's) out of bed and went to film for my first news package ever. Not that I did any actual filming. We've discussed how much I fail at technology.

Anyway, I went to conduct the interviews. My third story option turned out to be the one in which a source would actually call me back. So we headed down to the Catholic Charities of Ithaca to talk about how they'd run out of children's clothing for their Share the Warmth drive in three days, and how the community had responded in such a big way. Hard hitting journalism. But it was a story, and I was happy with it. Plus, everyone there was super nice and accommodating, which is pretty much a breath of fresh air when you're a journalist.

When I got back to campus, I threw on comfy clothes, worked on papers and watched snow fall. Then I curled up with a book...well, essays debating neo-conservative foreign policy...and watched Florida lose the SEC championship. A quality day.

Sunday involved me sleeping in way past my alarm, mildly panicking, grabbing breakfast, and running over to Park to get started on my package. A senior journalism student (I know! Proof I'll learn useful things and be competent!) who is usually one of the anchors on Sunday showed me the basics of Final Cut Pro and helped me record voice overs on a linear editor. It was really cool, and basically a crash course in everything I'll learn in News II. Sometimes I think my parents are paying my tuition for me to learn everything in extracurriculars.

Sunday night I sat back and watched the absolute madness ensue. Really, Switchcast is always a mess, but I am pretty sure my package was the only thing that got onto air unscathed. It was absurdity. And of course, there are the pranks. One anchor actually had to read:

"Next on Newswatch 16, hamsters that could kill you and your cat wants some noms."

I have my suspicions about who wrote THAT one.

In other news, yesterday was my mother's birthday. She turned...like, 30, or something. It's an estimation. I tried to call her, but I guess she was too busy partying like the wild child she is to call me back. Or maybe I just called at too ungodly of an hour. I am a college student, and am not good at keeping track of these things.

I gotta say, I'm lucky that I've had her as a Mom for 19 years of her life and counting. She has handled all the crazy, all the late night stressors, all the homework, the sports events and college crises with grace. Not that those are entirely over, even though we're separated by a few states. Sorry about that, Mom. I love you. You are an awesome mom. I don't know how to say it in a non-cheesy way.

And...that's about it. Bring it, finals.

These Weeks are Seriously Depleting My Tums Supply

Yeah, and that's a problem, because I only eat the green ones. And they are in limited availability. In that, my Dad hates the green ones, and then gives them all to me. Because we are both five. Or maybe I'm just the immature ones, because at least he's willing to consume multiple flavors.

I never said I wasn't a psycho.

This week there is just SO MUCH DUE. And on top of that, I'm reporting for the first time for Newswatch, and I'm pretty sure no one is aware that I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing. And no one wants to be interviewed. Or be able to film said interview if it is acquired. And then there's no guarantee I'll be able to find transportation to said interview and filming location with my hundreds of dollars of filming equipment. Which I probably won't be able to check out anyway, because I'm a journalism major and they don't let us check out anything yet, except like a fancy audio recorder. Which is about all I can handle, so I suppose that policy is wise.

Let me go find some more antacids.

Anyway, SOMETHING will be going on the air Sunday, theoretically. Not that I know how to edit it, or put it together, or anything crucially necessary like that. No.

On top of that nightmare I have two final projects and a final paper to complete this weekend. Then there is everything next week due. Then finals.

But you know what? This is college. I'm lucky to be here. Before I know it I will be passed out on my couch with all these classes complete and with absolutely no work to do. With gumdrops dancing, etc.

So for the time being, I'm going to have to focus on whatever I have control over. I'm going to run down to the boathouse for practice and I am going to be able to think about nothing for two hours. And even though when you're on the erg it's harder to breathe, afterward it's much easier.

Oh, and there are always internet distractions to make me giggle.

Like this.

Great Thanksgiving

If this break really proved anything to me, it's that what I'm really thankful for is my family.

They are hilarious and take care of me. All of them. My Amma and I drove up and down the coast in the past week, giggling the whole way. My Mom humored Claire and I to the extent that she stayed up till four a.m. on the Shopping Trip From Hell (Black Friday at midnight? DO NOT DO THAT. JUST DO NOT.) My Dad gave us sage advice and humorous (constructive) criticism. My sister and I just hung out, when she wasn't napping, or studying chemical processes WAY over my head.

I also realized that I am the ONLY ONE in my family unable to drop one-liners. I am not that quick thinking. It's really quite tragic.

Oh, and did I mention that they're also really, really ridiculously good-looking?

Not that I'm like, biased or anything.

"Waahhh Wahh Waaah Whine Whine Whine"- Claire

Apparently it is a problem that I haven't blogged in a week. So now it's 10pm on a wonderful Thanksgiving evening, and I'm blogging to make my sister happy.

So my break has been fantastic. I have been incredibly unproductive. I'm on football game number six at this very moment. Claire and I even took a road trip to visit our longtime friend K down in colonial Williamsburg. It looked a little different than my college, in that at IC everything is concrete, and at William and Mary everything is elegantly-aged brick. Ah, well.

One of the highlights of my break was listening to Josh McDaniels drop a not-so-polite word on national television tonight. I got a Park student high out of it. We love when professional media screws up royally.

At midnight Claire, Mom and I are heading out shopping. Yeah. Really. See, Claire decided she and I were going to start a black Friday tradition about two years ago, and this year we somehow managed to convince my mother that she totally wanted to come with us. I'm not sure I want to come with us. But I will and BY GOD IT WILL BE FUN.

This year we're even going all the way out to some J. Crew Factory store, because RPI turned my sister into a prep, and we are powerless against her will. I know she didn't go to RPI to be a lawyer, but I swear, that girl has a natural talent. If she was paid in polo shirts, there would be no one willing to face her in court.

Claire recommends that I also mention in this post that we ate our weight in pie today, and that it rains all the time. Logically these things are totally connected, because we both whine about them all the time.

I should also mention that I MADE A PIE. Yes. Me. My mother and grandmothers some how left me unsupervised in the kitchen and I made a pecan pie all by myself. All. By. Myself.

Yeah, I'm just as shocked as you are. Oh and yes, my house still exists as an entire, struturally sound entity.

It's a Christmas miracle!

It's Almost Thanksgiving, For Which I'm ENTIRELY THANKFUL

Do I have to preface this with a "my life is crazy sentence?" No? You got that point? Okay. Let's get to it.

I am blogging right now because it is far more fun to do that than actually write my papers or go to the gym like I'm supposed to. And, because I wanted to share with you something in my life that was actually FULL of WIN!*

You should know that I hate group projects. Loathe them, actually. I'm not so much a collaborator. I mostly like to impose my will and opinions ruthlessly and shamelessly on others. This is probably because I grew up in the DMV. Anyway, I was terrified of working in a final group project for my journalism ethics class, which involved a 20 minute presentation. It's being graded on a ranking scale. All the groups will rank which presentations they thought were best. The one averaged as the top will get an A, the second will get an A-, and so on for all 8 groups. Absolutely horrifying, right?

Luckily, I got a group full of girls just as competitive as me. We pulled the first presentation slot. We met obsessively for weeks. It all came together today, when we literally suited up and gave our presentation. And it was awesome. Our professor said we set the bar incredibly high.

And let me just say, this power-suit idea is totally true. Everything you say sounds 10 times smarter when you are wearing a suit. That is not to say that I in any way endorse Hillary Clinton's insane collection of primary colored pantsuits, but let's just say I kind of get it.

It is Tuesday. On Friday, I GET TO GO HOME. On Friday, I will have written two more papers and given one more presentation.

Keep your fingers crossed for more win!

*As opposed to full of fail...I am sure this makes no sense for those tend to speak english properly. This is just how we speak in the Paulson household and at Ithaca College. For example, on Sunday my news director wrote up an entire story about the SPCA in LOLcat speak, entitled "NOM NOM NOM." That was most definitely full of win.

Claire Told Me to Blog, So, Enjoy

This week has been entirely insane. Its low point was when I called my mother in meltdown mode over glitches in audio editing software.

Yeah. I mean, I cry over software and then I go to class and hear about human rights violations in Palestine and I feel like a huge jerk.

Basically I've spent this week trying to throw together the audio package from hell. It is about sustainability on campus, and how basically none of the students care anymore. It is REALLY REALLY DUMB. I am not even exaggerating. But whatever. I am so close to being finished with it. I just have to re-record two of my narration pieces because on one I sound intoxicated or something and the other my computer randomly deleted. WHICH IS AWESOME.

Cortaca, the big annual football game we're hosting against our rivals Cortland State, is this weekend. So this entire week we've been getting e-mails from the administration, e-mails our R.A's, posters in the bathroom, ads in the school paper, telling us all that if we do anything rude/illegal we will never succeed in life or be tasered or something.

At least, that seemed to be the gist of it. I don't know. I don't filter information as well when I'm sarcastic and crabby. A state of which I've been in basically all week.

I am excited for the game though, even though our football team hasn't been doing as well this season, and we will probably lose. But we are Ithaca, and we will lose with ENTHUSIASM and with cleverly worded t-shirts on our backs!

If anything more blog-worthy happens, I will totally let you know. In the meantime, I will return to fulfilling teenage stereotypes of sullenness and self-absorption...with a little audio editing thrown in.

First Practice With Varsity

Yesterday was my first official practice with varsity. Before heading down I was envious of all the other novice girls that had their freedom after that morning's team yoga. (Yes, apparently we do yoga Friday mornings. It is kind of awesome, and I am kind of bad at it.)

For today's fun Friday we divided up into teams of five and were given two ergs. Each erg was set to 15,000 meters. The task was to finish both ergs, that combined 30k, in under an hour. In a relay.

Here is what I have learned about erg relays: THEY SUCK.

Needless to say, with this challenge you knew going it was going to be really difficult for every team to finish both of their ergs under that time. We finished one, missing the second by 16 seconds. About 6 of the 16 ergs made it under an hour. After we finished and huddled bent over and gasping for air, our coach made an observation.

"We got six ergs. When we get ten, we can start talking about a National Championship."

And I thought two things: Ten is possible. And, THAT'S AWESOME.

Andre Agassi Made Me Cry, Plus Other Stories

Basically I'm a psychopath and cry over sports all the time. If the Redskins are humiliated, if there is a young-person-overcomes-great obstacles-to-obtain-great-success-and-self-actualization story in Sports Illustrated, if I win something, if I lose something, if something ends, if I fall in a painful manner, if Tom Brady is looking particularly attractive in the Road to the Super Bowl on the NFL Network.

That last one is a complete lie. In that case I'd be thrilled, if unsurprised.

Anyway, so it wasn't a total shock or anything when I was sitting on my bed last night not doing homework and instead getting misty-eyed over Andre Agassi talking about hating tennis. I knew what he was talking about. I got it, and I love when you can feel that empathy with someone you've had on a famous-person, redemption pedestal for so long. They're real. Just thought I'd share that.

Anyway, I was procrastinating late into the night last night with the Agassi article because I'd been running like a mad person all day yesterday. I worked and attended class. Boring. Then, I attended a small question and answer session with Arianna Huffington. Not boring. While Ms. Huffington is a dynamic, interesting, and powerful speaker, I was almost more interested by the supposed top-tier journalism students asking her questions. This is a program rooted in asking the uncomfortable questions, blah, blah, independence, blah, etc. But every question posed to her, except mine, was weirdly prefaced with a long story about how amazing it was of her to come, thanks so much, I'm a huge fan, I read everyday, I aspire to be you, and more nauseating crap.

I sat in my seat, and I was actually getting mad about it. You're supposed to be journalism students, where is your critical eye? How do you expect to get anything worthwhile if you douse your question in syrup? Also, she is most definitely getting paid TENS OF THOUSANDS of dollars to be here, so yes, thanks for the time, but seriously? It was almost as if the desperation for future employment knocked out all the legitimacy and value of the questioning.

If you're wondering, I mentioned the prominence of celebrity commentary and punditry on the site and asked about her perspective on objectivity as a journalistic value in light of that. I followed up with a question about whether she'd regretted publishing any of the opinion pieces. She didn't really answer my second question, and instead talked about the editing process. I probably sound like a self-righteous whiner right now. I am one.

Of course, it was also election night! That meant Newswatch. I helped produce the Data Center, where the anchors would throw it to another reporter, Nick, to announce all incoming results and vote count. That meant I spent the few hours in a tiny room with Nick and a camera with my laptop perched on my knees and the Tompkins County Board of Elections at my fingertips. I love the internet. But we had to throw together information on about 30 elections, cohesively, in just minutes over the hour broadcast. It was hectic and crazy, but it worked out.

Then today, I had radio, class, and my politics advisor meeting. My politics advisor is awesome. We talked for quite a bit of time about how I was varying my classes, and what I wanted to focus on. She also had a lot of advice about studying abroad. Also, she hooked me up with some great places to look for internships. Who knew advisors could actually be useful? I am also SO EXCITED for my classes next semester. I am only taking one hardcore journalism class, with the other four centered around politics. Technically, my "Government and Media" class fulfills a journalism requirement, but it's all about law and government practice. So basically, next semester should be full of win.

And now I'm actually going to do my work, so I can pass and therefore take classes next semester.

The First Frost, Waayyy After the First Snow

Here I am, blogging. My sister basically threatened my well-being due to my epic failings at posting, so yes. I'm here. Talking about my life.

Halloween kind of happened this weekend. In college Halloween basically takes over the entire weekend, so from Thursday night on you could see people walking around in strange attire. I saw one girl dressed as an LOLcat. I was so incredibly jealous that I did not think of that. SO JEALOUS.

I dressed up as a police officer. Not like an out-of-the-bag "sexy" police officer (a look of which many college girls are fond of), fear not. My feminist values remained intact. I basically chose to be a police officer because all I had to do was buy a hat and wear black. I also thought it was funny, in a, "Look at me, I'm the physical embodiment of legitimized force!" kind of way. Because I am that kid you knew at college. Really.

You could argue that the physical embodiment of legitimized force would be a soldier, but there was no way I was going to be caught dead in anything with a camouflage print.

Anyway, so there was that. I ate something described as a "Reese Pumpkin" and went into a blissful sugar coma. I then went for a swim, and thoroughly regretted ever consuming said Reese pumpkin. Despite the nausea, I've decided it was totally worth it.

Today marked the beginning of our off season weight training. The varsity coach teaches athletic training classes and is supervising their training of us. Today we learned about different machines and got analyzed. My assessment was basically: 1. You are kind of inflexible. 2. You have long femurs! 3. Oh, and long tibias too! 4. Actually, long everything. So, uh, work with that, okay?

Tomorrow will bring insanity. After work and class, I'm heading to a question and answer session with this little known blogger named...Arianna Huffington. Oh yes. I totally know Claire will not know who this is/care, but she is kind of a big deal. My professor said the set up will be Oprah-style, so I guess we'll pass around a microphone and discuss our journey to our best self and you know, like media democracy or something. I am most excited because I realized today that Arianna Huffington and Aunt Zelda from Sabrina the Teenage Witch ARE THE SAME PERSON.

No one believes me. And yes, I did just take the time to do that. You'll be happy to know that Zelda Spellman has her own Wikipedia page, and you'll be even happier to know that it's extremely informative.

Then I'm helping produce Newswatch's election center. I will basically spend the night on the phone with the Tompkins County Board of Elections, pretending people desperately care who won the Town Council positions. Most of the incumbents in the election have held their positions since the 80s. The suspense is overwhelming.

Somewhere in there I'll fit in a workout and eating. That's about it.

In a totally unrelated note, cherry Starbursts taste like Nyquil.

Wearing Rain Boots 3 Days After I REALLY REALLY Should Have

I tromped around campus today through the puddles and chilly rain and splashed occasionally in the small puddles. It was convenient to have rain boots. I felt prepared. Unlike Sunday, in which Abby thought it would be a FANTASTIC idea to wear flip flops to a regatta pretty much entirely covered in inches of cold, muddy water.

Rest in peace, left Old Navy flip flop. You suffered an unfortunate death during de-rigging. Your body may never be found. But in all honesty, those flip flops cost like 3 dollars. I am just happy I got back with all my toes.

As usual I was saved by my constantly more practical and informed sister, who by magical fate was also at the regatta, and had a pair of huge old sneakers for me to slosh around in.

She rocks. She is also never getting her shoes back. They are pretty disgusting.

They are also still sitting stinkily in my closet. It's not like I'm actually going to be proactive about it.

Anyway, so that was the regatta. My boat happened to get fifth out of twenty-eight teams, which is pretty darn awesome. We also crushed most of the novice New York teams we'll be facing in the spring, which is encouraging.

It's winter training now, which means no more actual rowing. I've been offered the chance to try for a varsity seat in the spring despite my limited experience, which means I have to work my butt off. It started yesterday with a four mile run.

Four miles. I thought there was no way. I entirely avoided any running activities growing up. I felt more natural in the water. Basketball involved mainly shuffling and short sprints, as well as me being freakishly tall at a young age. I put up with it in field hockey just because I liked hitting things...and people...so much. I was a defender. I can't exactly lie and say there was never any shoving involved.

But I did it. I ran four miles. And it was fine. I realized I was in better shape than I thought I was, with this whole "crew" thing. I also got to reap the benefits of that "runner's high" thing, something that I was convinced didn't exist because I had spent most of the runs prior to this one thinking about how much I hated to run. That probably never helped.

So, from now on, I am:

1. Thinking positively.

2. Wearing proper foot attire.

3. Not putting off homework by blogging.

I guess I'll get on that now.

The Birthday Post...and More?

I'm 19 now. Well, I have been for two days.

I'm in college. Procrastination is a luxury I sometimes pay out for.

It's my second in-college birthday, and I have to say it's still a little strange going it alone. But instead of my sister with me, I had amazing friends and teammates. I was serenaded at practice and given a lovely crafty frame with their signatures on it. I came back from practice to find my room covered in balloons, streamers and signs.

I have actually no idea what to do with the balloons. I've piled them in the corner by my desk, surrounding my feet. It's definitely strange but totally cool at the same time.

So it was great. I even had a class cancelled and took a celebratory nap because of it. Me. Napping. It was amazing, and I totally intend to do it again when I have time in...June.

This week I made it through two more exams. It was not very enjoyable. Even the weekend, however, will not involve much sleeping. I have 7:30 a.m. Saturday practice and then I get to see my parents and my sister at a regatta on Sunday! It will be kind of a flashback to high school years, with Claire and I playing sports and my parents lugging Costco products to feed many hungry athletes. Except, now they have to drag them across multiple states instead of down the street. And Claire and I are on different teams.

But I am sure there will be some things that will feel exactly the same. My mom will totally mom (yes, that's a verb now) my teammates without even trying, and they will love her. My dad will probably wear his Indiana Jones hat, on the off chance it is sunny. He will also meet like 9 people from Western Massachusetts. They will instantly become best friends.

Claire and I will giggle excessively.

That is just how these things work. This is how my family functions.

So basically I can't wait for Sunday.

Not, NOT the Birthday Post

I promise I'll tell you how fabulous it was.

But this is just funnier, and more applicable to my attention span right now.

You've heard about ESPN analyst Steve Phillip's "Fatal Attraction" scandal with his 22 year-old apparently production assistant?

Yes?

Well no one produces psycho mistresses production assistants like the Park School!

Oh, and look! She even gave us advice on Dean Lynch's blog!

Awkwardddddd

No, The World isn't Ending, I'm Just Blogging Two Days in a Row

It's no secret that journalism and I have a rocky relationship. It's pretty love/hate.

I think that's just the name of the game, though.

One of my professors said he became a journalist because it was the last adventure job. It could send you anywhere with anyone. This was one of the things I struggled with. I'm a planner, and I hate uncertainty. If you've ever sat helplessly at your desk with one eye one your telephone and the other on the clock eating away at your deadline, you get it.

I was always a reserved kid. The thoughts and crazy ideas I brewed in my head usually ended up on paper or whispered in my sister's ear. Last year, getting up the courage to approach a source at a game or call for an interview took way more internal pep-talking than normal. I'm not a people person, but they fascinate me. I've always been a wide-eyed observer, content to watch interactions and file them away in my puzzle-piece worldview.

I came to journalism wanting to write, and wanting to find replacements for the holes I had in my portrait of the world. No blemishes of deadlines and pyramid structure appeared in my vision of seeking out social and political justice with few strokes of a pen.

Today the adventure of journalism took me on a tree-lined hike through Ithaca for a piece I'm doing for a class on the state of bed and breakfasts in the economic decline. It felt almost like a reparation for its betrayal of my idealistic expectations, its repeated failures as an art and as a science.

After my hour-long walk down I sat in an 200 year old inn, surrounded by smells of baking and old books, chatting with the owner of the William Henry Miller Inn. She was entertaining, helpful, cheerful and warm. The glass china cabinets, paisley rugs, and creaky stairs reminded me of home. Beyond all the bed and breakfast-y charm, however, was a great interview. I'd gone in expecting a tale of a struggling business. Instead, I found an inn that used its kindness to reach success. Needless to say, it was cool.

I hiked back up the hill to campus, wondering why exactly I thought it would be a good idea to walk back up to campus. Right on the edge of campus, I stopped and looked around to see if anyone could see me. Then, I walked over to a tree surrounded by bright red leaves and walked around happily in my boots.

Because, you know, the best way to congratulate yourself on a job well done is stomping on crunchy leaves.

I got back to my room with flushed cheeks and chapped hands. I switched on the television to watch New Orleans finish off the Giants. Collapsing on my bed, I realized journalism had given me a pretty good Sunday.

Break rocks.

A Wonderful Break

I got a call from my mother yesterday afternoon. She was just calling to confirm that I wasn't in some ditch somewhere and was, in fact, alive.

You see, I expected this break to be incredibly low-key. I expected to spend a lot of time doing nothing. So when my parents hadn't heard from me, they wondered. Especially after I didn't return their call.

I've been having a blast. I haven't been sleeping in, but it's been great. When I asked my coach for a land workout I could do over break, I instead ended up with the most intense "workout buddy" ever, our assistant coach E. We pretty much all aspire to be her. So along with two other rowers, A and...A, actually, I've been getting my butt kicked for the past three mornings.

I've been hanging out with A all weekend. We bond especially well because she's 5' 11" and I'm 6 foot. There's a thing about tall women. We automatically understand and relate to each other on some basic level. I mean, the large shoe event at Nordstroms is probably the most civil and cheerful epic shoe sale you will ever experience. It's just how it is. We get it.

And, she's a great workout partner because she has the same goal as I do. We both want to live up to our height--to our potential. So we were ready to gain some ground while everyone else slept. She's also a voice major on an opera path, so you know I totally want to recruit her as an awesome karaoke partner. Right?

Anyway, so I got back from practice this morning and collapsed onto my bed. I turned on college football. I dozed to the sounds of cheers and whistles and men of a certain age talking in dramatic tones. It was beautiful. It actually felt like a break. Of course, I then got up and scheduled an interview for tomorrow. Because I still need to keep in some contact with reality.

And that's my life.

A Breather

I'm taking a little break from studying to blog. Because I feel like it.

And a part of me misses recording the absolutely mundane. I've been doing a lot of my sentimentalization lately. Yes, apparently "sentimentalization" is a word. That's awesome.

Yesterday my political justice group somehow managed to pull out an awesome presentation on the role of FISA in international justice. It's really cool when things turn out way better than you expect.

Then I hightailed it to radio, and there was absolutely no news. None. My local news story was about the debut of a solar powered trash compactor on the Commons.

Yeah.

At practice we did 3k erg tests. I did okay. I wasn't all together thrilled with my result. I know I can do better, and that gets at me, but I know it could have been worse. The problem was that that test was followed by an insanely hard and insanely cold practice. By the end, my throat was swollen and raw and I couldn't breathe deeply without coughing.

I got back from practice and steamed myself in the shower for approximately forever. I then churned out a paper for ethics. By that point I felt absolutely horrible and went to bed early to be up for my 6:30 work shift. I'm pretty sure I broke a fever during the night, and apparently I scared my roommate half to death because I got up at 1am, left the room, and came back approximately 10 seconds later. She asked me directly if she'd woken me accidentally, I didn't respond, crawled back in bed, and passed out. So I guess I was sleepwalking, seeing as I don't remember doing any of this. I did actually feel way better when I woke up.

I am seriously looking forward to four days of break. With which I intend to spend some quality time with my bed and hot liquids. And the frosted covered animal crackers I bought at Target. Them too.

And now, I'm off to my history midterm.

Love is Love

Love is love. Family is family.

Despite our midwest pedigree and our Southern transplantation, I think we're truly a New England family. Love is found in a strong handshake, a hand on a shoulder, a twinkle in the eye. It's found in quiet and contemplative moments under clear and cold skies. A roar of laughter over a dry joke over wooden tables and local draught beers on wooden tables.

There's another love--just as pure, just as strong--that swells like a warm tide. It rushes through each close embrace, each busy kiss and each genuine brilliant smile. It's a love that envelopes and spreads, it expands and it strengthens. It is a full, cacophonous house and a glass of aged red wine. It does not discriminate but it is true.

These two kinds of love melded beautifully this weekend. My Uncle Judd married my new Aunt Michelle in a ceremony that never flagged in its celebration and its happiness. It was the kind of happiness that lasts when everyone involved knows that two kind and loving people finally found the match they deserve.

It was an incredible weekend.

Congratulations, Judd and Michelle!

Can We Talk About How Awesome Things Can Be?

Let's face it.

I stress. A lot. Stuff happens. Deadlines catch up to you. Your desk gets unbelievably messy. The weather sucks. You haven't folded the laundry you did four days ago. Schedules conflict. Sleep is something you daydream about. You spend your life in the Park school and in the middle of a lake, wearing spandex.

For clarification purposes, yes, I am often wearing spandex in Park.

But today, we won. My boat won it's first race ever by rowing better than we ever had. At the end I was wondering if I could still inhale.

Before a swim race I would push my goggles in repeatedly, shake my arms, and focus. In my pacing I would push myself as hard as my body and mind would let me. Crew doesn't let you do that. If it's too hard for you, too bad. It's not. You keep pulling because even though every muscle and every labored is telling you you can't, you can.

It's awesome.

It's also awesome when you have a roommate who knows you so well she buys you Cheez-Its for a good luck present. How ridiculously cool is that? I mean, seriously.

Be jealous.

So for the rest of this week, I'll push through. I'll blast the Chicago, Next to Normal, and Aida soundtracks and I'll get work done. And then I get to go participate in an amazing wedding with people who mean the world to me.

How cool is THAT?

Pushing Limits

This summer, when I was deciding whether I would join the crew team, my dad said something that stuck with me.

"Right now you can push yourself," he said. "There's going to be a point where you just can't push your body to do the things you want it to anymore."

I decided to join the crew team.

Last year I wasn't an athlete anymore. I woke up every morning feeling frustrated with my body. That's sad, and that's a little twisted, but that's the truth. It wasn't the fact that I'd gained weight, exactly, but the fact that I didn't feel strong anymore. My shoulders weren't tense from exertion, they were tense from stress and from going day to day with a focus that was entirely singular and at the same time extremely fragmented.

My life was centered around journalism, resume building, and fear of academic failure. There was no point in my day where the fear of missing a deadline or botching a quote wasn't on my mind. I was happy in Ithaca, but at the same time there was a something entirely off balance.

I discovered politics second semester. I realized it was something I wanted, and that maybe my path would not take me to a newspaper or a magazine.

Today we raced for the first time. The top two novice boats went head to head for a 4k. Half way through you realize that you don't really see anything. The sound of oar locks thunking and water rushing and your coxswain yelling and your legs screaming takes precedence over sight. It's a blur and it's furious and all you can do is keep breathing and think you must be close, you're almost there, even when you're not.

I can still push my body. I know I can push it farther.

Being a part of a team and pushing my self makes me better. It makes me feel stronger when I get out of bed in the morning, when I write a paper, when I'm searching for an interview, or reading a case.

I'm figuring out what I want to do as I go. For now, I know I love to write. I know I want to be part of the change, and not just the observer. I know that the median GPA for Yale Law School's class of 2011 was 3.90 and the low was 3.51. I know that I love to laugh with my friends and curl up in bed with a mug of tea on rainy days.

I think I'll take it from there.

If You Haven't Given Up on Me

I know.

I KNOW.

I got this text from my sister today: "It's awesome that you update your blog frequently so I know what is going on in your life. SIKE."

You know things are getting serious when your family members begin to punctuate sarcastic statements with 90s-era slang.

So here I am. I'm back. Let's see how long this lasts! It's really a lack of time that's kept me away from your lovely computer screens. I spend most of my time...not blogging. In fact, I spend most of my time doing many things that aren't sleeping, or paying attention to things like laundry. My best and worst decision ever was putting a laundry basket where I can't see it. It can be overflowing and I don't even have to look at it.

Also luckily, I am basically turning into my father and couldn't resist cashing in on a 2-for-1 deal on athletic socks. So I have tons and tons of athletic socks now. I can run out of them and open a new bag. They're practically potato chips.

I also spent some time tweeting about my ill-informed ideas about treating the blisters on my hands. It involved me thinking myself, "I should probably clean it before I wrap it up. Oh, look, because of the swine flu I have ample amounts of hand sanitizer at my disposal. Let's use that!" I think my roommate might be tragically getting used to hearing me yelp at odd times throughout the day for stupid reasons.

Speaking of blisters, crew is going well. The campus is still adapting to seeing me walk around as a sweaty mess all the time. IC students may have to speak with a counselor about the whole "spandex for pants" part. They can deal. It's actually going so well that I may be racing WAY earlier than expected. Try...October 3rd. This is really unbelievable to me because it seems like yesterday that we finally got into a boat and...couldn't move. Oh, how things change!

In class I spend a lot of time ignoring any social niceties that tell me to shut up and let someone else have a chance to talk, or asking myself why I am in this class? It's hard to take a lecture about blogging all that seriously. So much of these "theories" of online journalism are the norm for our generation. Sometimes these classes on multimedia--when they stray away from the practical like, using photoshop or creating audio slideshows--are one huge hour and a half long DUH.

Based on the quality of my writing today, you all are probably thinking I should pay more attention in class. I actually just finished writing a paper for my journalism ethics class. There is seriously nothing more fun than explaining moral development levels and their applications to citizen journalism.

SIKE

Life in the Fast Lane

Well, as far as the "fast lane" reference goes, my meaning is more towards the "I walk really fast to get everywhere" idea rather than the "my life choices mirror those of James Dean," possible meaning.

Basically, I am really excited that I am actually in my dorm right now.

On Sunday, I spent eight hours in Park working in my new position as an Associate Producer of our television news show Newswatch 16. It'll stream live next week, and shows should be posted on the ictv.org website. I'll link you up here if you're interested in listening to what I write. My main job is writing up copy for the anchors.

Yesterday I was in my room for a total of 20 minutes between 8:15 a.m. and 8:30 p.m. Today I got two full hours in that time span. It was leisurely.

The reason for this is, as you know, I try to do everything. Everything. So I'm either in one of my five classes, writing/performing a radio broadcast, picking up some sort of sustenance, running to the boathouse, rowing on the water, at a meeting, working in the dining hall, etc.

It's hectic and crazy and tiresome but I am just constantly amazed that I'm doing it all. My greatest fear is looking back on my college years and wondering, "What if?" It was my main reason for joining the crew team. I wanted something and as crazy as it all sounded, I'm making it work. I'm also loving it.

For my News I class, we all have to maintain some type of newsy blog. Surprise! Mine's on women's issues. If you've looked at mine, can I just mention how self-conscious I feel comparing my new blog to my classmate's? Don't even try to comfort me.

Oh, and of course the NFL season has officially kicked off. The Redskins looked predictably ineffective and frustratingly normal. I also had some of my friends here e-mail their teachers saying they had flu-like symptoms and therefore could not attend class (Swine Flu is a real threat here, particularly with that festering pile of Ivy league, Cornell, having over 500 cases and all) because they were literally too depressed to function. This is because they are Bills fans.

You'd think they'd be numb to it by now, but you've got to remember that my friends were babies during those Super Bowl...appearances.

Now, I want to end this post with something cheery. Let's all meditate on how freakishly good looking Tom Brady and Gisele's child is going to be.

Hey...I Live Here

At approximately 12:07 today, I realized I live in Ithaca.

I was with roommates L and C, and we were sitting on a wooden bench, peering through the trees to the gray, rippling lake. L had a whole grain pumpkin muffin, C had an indian samosa, and I had an egg roll. Behind us Ithacans were bustling around underneath a mammoth structure made of wooden planks, lugging bags overflowing with produce and cups full of sweet cider. Ithaca's farmers market is the strangest combination of experiences (hence our cuisine), but it all felt entirely natural.

While we were watching the lake, I thought back to yesterday when I was actually on the lake, learning to row with varsity. Torrential, freezing rain poured down our backs and soaked our shoes, the girl in front of me could hardly hold her oar from the shivers. I was experiencing two things for the first time. One was the sensation of wet spandex. The other was the thrill of a single successful stroke, when you hear the rush of the water underneath the boat punctuated with the thunking of the oar locks.

We finished and headed back to the car, dodging puddles and breathing in the smell of dew on leaves just entering fall.

And I realized I lived in Ithaca as we laughingly piled into the car to face the adventure of manual transmissions on Ithaca's hills.

Now I'm here, in my dorm room, typing up a blog post and eyeing the stack of reading I've got lined up for me this afternoon, and I feel at home.

Labor Day Weekend

When Claire and I were little, we'd sometimes go up to our parents to tell them we were bored ask if we could have a playdate. 

"Why?" they'd ask. 

"Because we don't have anyone to play with," we'd whine. 

They thought this was hilarious.  We were confused. 

Now, I move my spandex-clad butt into a car for three and a half hours or so just so I can hang with her for a few days. And it's totally worth it. 

And for the record, my butt was actually spandex-clad, because I left straight from practice. 

Claire and I spent the weekend putting around Troy, eating pizza with strange toppings, napping way too much, chatting with her friends, buying cookies (yes COOKIES! Isn't it so unlike us?) and visiting with some other lovely ladies who share many of our physical characteristics. Mainly because we're related to them. And by that I mean my Mom and both my grandmothers came up to feed us brunch, and to give us more stuff than can actually fit under my dorm bed. 

Isn't it great that my expensive journalistic training has taught me to be concise and get right to the point with everything? 

It was a great weekend. 

Today I had to get back into the swing of things. I worked breakfast and then headed to ethics, which basically turned into a cacophonous class-wide argument about the journalistic morality of that Cincinnati Enquirer Banana Republic case back in the day. Basically I was told I was a terrible, immoral person for believing that if a company grossly mistreats and intimidates its hundreds workers AND traffics of cocaine, its stupid and wealthy executives deserve to have their incriminating voice mails stolen. And maybe I am. I think that was the point of the whole debate...the idea that sometimes you just don't know. 

Just another day in college. 

Then later in my history of mass media class I got props for actually knowing what the Crimean war was about. It literally blew my mind that most of the kids in my class had never heard of it. Ms. Carballo would have cried herself to sleep if she'd heard them. I can't even tell you how many thesis statements I wrote about World War I that had the Crimean war in them. 

Public school, suckers! Half of those kids paid unbelievable amounts of money for an incomplete education. I guess my current attendance at a private institution undercuts my self-righteousness. But still. Even my politics 101 professor knows I'm obsessed with socioeconomic and class issues. 

Downright obsessed. 

Well, anyway, I'll wrap this up. 

If you want to listen to me actually talk about things that matter for about 5 minutes tomorrow, boot up the radio on WICB.org  tomorrow at 8:46 a.m. and listen to my newscast. 

First Crew Practice

I think I've been spoiled by Twitter. I'm keeping this short, because I should be reading. 

The insanity of my schedule yesterday was even more insane because it actually all worked out. Like clockwork. I don't even want to go into it, it was so insane. 

Yesterday, however, I did have my first crew practice! We went to the tanks at Cornell, and because we only get off-hours, my boat was scheduled for a 9 p.m. practice. It was such a weird experience. It was late at night, and I was huddling with a group of girls outside an ivy-covered (I know, they've actually got it, right?) building at Cornell late at night, about to go row in weird non-moving boat things surround by water. All I could really think about was, "How in the world did I get HERE?"

We're just learning now. Tomorrow, however, the butt-kicking commences. What cracked me up yesterday was that my coach told me the exact same thing Claire had criticized me about.  She said my recovery was too fast. "Abby," she said. "The fact is that your legs are approximately three times longer than anyone else's here, and it may feel like you're going incredibly slow, but you're not." 

So far I really like our novice coaches. They're super sweet and both rowed for Ithaca back in the day. We're really lucky to have a coach and an assistant. We have 46 novice women at this point, so the extra help is probably necessary. I know. 46.  It's unlikely that the number will stay that high, but it's pretty incredible. 

In other news, I actually have to do my homework. 

Rainstorms in Ithaca

The past couple of days the sky has taken to opening up right on top of me whenever I deign to step outside. The craziest one was when roomie A and I were walking back from our crew swim test, and we were wetter after we got to our dorm than we had been after jumping in the pool. 

I did pass the test, by the way. I guess I'm still making use of the absurd amount of money we (meaning...my parents...) paid for swim coaching over the years. I'm sure they're thrilled. 

I auditioned for our news program today, in completely unrelated news. As I told my mom, I didn't die or faint while on camera, and nothing entirely traumatic happened to me while I was there, so overall I'd consider it a smashing success, if we're grading this on the college scale. 

Tomorrow is our first crew practice.  We're heading to the tanks at Cornell to actually learn how to row. My boat is going at NINE. At night. 

College. 

It is absolutely insane how much reading I've done this weekend. I'm still not done. I also wrote two papers, and I still have a case to brief. This is my first weekend here. I guess if you double major, you actually end up with a lot of work. Who knew?

Can you tell that I've been working all day because of the sparkling wit and enthusiasm I've infused in this lovely, lovely post? 

I don't know. I guess my goal for this week is to keep breathing at all points of the day. Which I may or may not actually achieve. 

I think I'm going to make myself a mug of tea and unwind with a quick 20-minute Jon Stewart break. Johnson v. McIntosh can totally wait. 

Okay, Let's Chat

Can we talk about the past day or two? I don't even know, I'm pretty worn out already. 

Yesterday I worked for the first time. At this point I don't even care anymore. The people are nice and even though it can be boring and tiring and hot, I'm making money. I enjoy participating in capitalism. I'll just suck it up. It could be so much worse. 

Okay. 

Then later was the interest meeting for crew. I don't even think I've mentioned it on here. The series of decisions that led me to join the novice crew this year are worthy of an entire post. I think I'll save it. It's a lot of meditations on identity, happiness, belonging, and self-worth. I know, you're thinking, "Gee, I can't even WAIT for THAT pick-me-up." But the fact of the matter is I'm excited. And I'm ready. If I'm going to do something, I'm really going to do it. Eloquent, right? This post is severely lacking. 

Today was the first day of classes. First I had U.S. Politics. It's a really basic course, essentially the foundation of my major. I definitely see its worth, but that's not to say it's going to be incredibly intellectually stimulating. However, that void will most definitely be filled by my Political Justice class. I am already geeking out over it. I've written before about my Hermione Granger complex, and it was out of control in those two classes. I have to mentally restrain myself and think, "Let someone else speak, let someone else speak, other people have opinions too, SHUT UP!" Because apparently, I have an opinion about everything. Who knew? Probably my parents. 

Oh, and also? My political justice professor was totally wearing a purple Hillary pant suit and white shoes. How could I NOT love that?

News Writing and Reporting is absolute insanity. I don't even know what to say. I read the syllabus and visions of future cry-fests over this class danced in front of my eyes. 

I have my other two classes tomorrow...and every meeting possibly imaginable plus a sports physical scheduled AT THE EXACT SAME TIME! Let the balancing act begin! My planner is already feeling overused. But I can do it. 

I got this, people. I got this. 

(At least...I'm pretty sure?)

Everything I Haven't Covered Thus Far

Let's start with dropping Claire off, shall we?

We drove the hour and a half from Massachusetts to Albany, finally arriving in the beautiful area of Troy, New York. As Claire eloquently put it, "Sitting on stoops is big here." We finally found Claire's sorority house, the humble abode of Alpha Gamma Delta, and started dragging things up stairs to an extremely green room.  Then the family headed out to lunch. While we waited, we generally discussed a single topic, being, "OH MY GOD WE'RE SO HUNGRY." After eating delicious food, we went to the RPI bookstore where we picked up Claire's books and got me some much needed swag. I got a pair of Rensselaer shorts. I happen to be wearing them right now. Gotta represent my sister's genius.

We threw our purchases in the car and headed back to the sorority house. We all got out for goodbyes, at which point I unexpectedly started to sob. Or expectedly. I cry at everything. We climbed reluctantly back into the car. I could hardly fathom having to wait until October to see my sister. Little did I know. 

About a half an hour later, we got a lovely call. Claire's textbooks were still in the trunk. We turned around, sentimentality mostly extinguished. 

I have to say though, this summer I got closer to my sister than ever. Even when she was jumping on my bed at 7 a.m. to go skiing, I was glad she was there. I don't know exactly how to put it into words, but basically she's the best. 

I spent the next day trying to organize my piles of junk to pack into the car. We all got up at six a.m after a night of booming thunderstorms and slid into the car. Four hours later, I was here. 

Then I remembered hellos can be the perfect antidote to goodbyes. When you come to college your life splinters. Friendships and happiness are found in all the shards, but you have to come to realize that no matter what you'll always be missing someone. You also come to realize that that's okay and that life is really built around the people you're able to miss, regardless of who's actually in reach. 

I'm settling into a great new year. I'm ready for adventures with my girls and for tackling new challenges at every turn. It's going to be great. 

I still have to be at work at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow though. 

Re-Shipping Off

Coming back is different than shipping off for the first time. There are butterflies of familiar excitement and rediscovery instead of an overwhelming fear. 

I came back today to friends and a small but homey room. It is hot. It's a little bit strange. I wrote previously about goodbyes round one, and I had to buck up for round two. When I'm officially settled and am done with this new adventure of getting back into the swing of things, I'll detail everything. 

It's a new year, people. 

Stay tuned. 

I Drive Fast

When I was younger I wanted everything to go faster. The car, the boat, the piggy-back ride, the music, the hours. With every year that passed by, fear began to creep into that adrenaline rush. I hesitated at the top of ski slopes. I felt the burn and the air-lessness of a wipe-out on water. I began to drive in the D.C. area.

There is still one way I can go fast. And it's on a Jet-ski.

It's a Jet-ski that likes to quit on me randomly and run out of gas unexpectedly. But I can still run it until my ankles, knees, and thighs are sore from the jumps over waves and my hair is tangled and my cheeks are red from the wind.

When I drive others on the Jet-ski, my reputation often precedes me. Screaming and near-tips are a must. I've been called crazy. My sister practically gives me the heimlich on some rides. It's not often that I'm the passenger.

Today I went for a jet-ski ride on life-long friend (well, practically family, but that's another story, right?) A's jet-ski. Let's say I am pretty sure I got a more potent dose of my own medicine. There were many points at which I was sure I was going to die.

It was so much fun.

I love it here.

That's really the point of this post. Because as much as I write about my childhood in D.C as being a huge influence on my world outlook, there is a lot of Western Massachusetts in me. Every summer I've been driven up North, away from beltways and nighttime sirens and stripmalls and the bustle on living on the edge of the nation's capital. Then I live in a small little world where people actually need pick-up trucks and your friends' grandparents were friends with your own. And at night, priority number one is watching the pink sunset reflect off the lake.

And when you look up, you can actually see the stars.

Goodbyes Phase 1

There are many things at which I excel. Talking about myself. Making hot chocolate in the microwave. Finding new things to put cheese on. 

I am NOT good at saying goodbye. 

I'm sentimental person, as you probably know. I think most writers are. We obsess and organize the past, and sift through it so we can recreate it or its echoes on paper. The very idea of things ending, or just changing, throws me for a loop.

I like plans and I like schedules. These girls I have here are my anchors, and the idea of not seeing them until Thanksgiving seriously gives me a stomachache. My girls laugh at my jokes when they're not funny. They're smart, witty, and driven girls who aren't afraid of being the strong women they are, but I can still curl up on couches with them and exchange sentiments about the fear of not knowing and growing up and having arrived at legal adulthood while feeling like you really don't know anything about anything at all.  They're incredible. 

That's goodbyes phase 1. Luckily I've got awhile until phase 2 hits. I'll certainly let you know how that goes. 

In the meantime, I'm packing. My second post ever documented my failings when it comes to packing. I have not made any strides toward developing this skill. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've regressed. Somehow, my Dad's insane ability to pack was not passed on to me. I also missed out on him familial gift of guilting. That's due for another post entirely. 

Speaking of earlier posts, my bloggiversary is coming up on August 11th! I'll be at the little house in the big woods at that point, so y'all better remind me.  I would be devastated if I missed out on such a prime opportunity for premature nostalgia! 

COOKIESSSSSSSS

About half an hour ago I get a instant message from my sister, who also happened to be sitting across the dining room table from me and studying for her organic chemistry exam.

Claire: cake

Me: quiero

Claire: si si si

Me: yes yes yes

Claire: take the car to giant

Claire: or gasp baskin robins

Claire: you know you want to

Me: oh my god what about those excellent cake cookies at giant

Claire: omg

go now

i will pay

Me: are you serious?

Claire: yes

Me: done

Claire: COOKIESSSSS

And now, thirty minutes later, we are enjoying the most cake-like cookies money (well, like 4 dollars) can buy. It is essentially the closest to heaven intensely processed food can get. 

And it is WONDERFUL. 

This is basically why I can wait for August 22nd to come. They have cookies at Ithaca, sure, but they don't have Claire. 

Cheez-Its Are The Perfect Food

My Dad suggested I write a blog post about it, after I rhapsodized about them this evening. 

I'm pretty sure he was kidding. 

Let me just say that if I could live off of Cheez-Its and black coffee, I would. I stopped my obsession with Ramen noodles after I somehow got it into my head that the insane amount of sodium it contained would literally make me shrivel up and die. That's unlikely, but still. I have nutritional standards.  Sometimes I eat real cheese. Cheez-Its, I've decided, look enough like real food to trick my body into thinking it's actually receiving nutrition. My daily activities would be entirely sustained by caffeine. 

I'm pretty sure it'd work out. I'm also pretty sure it could get me a special on TLC. 

Speaking of which, how does TLC find all these people who don't know they're pregnant? How does that even work?

I would actually love for it to work out that way for me, in like, ten years. Totally natural bodily processes make me nauseous. I didn't look in the mirror for a week and a half after getting my wisdom teeth out because I was scared of seeing my own swollen cheeks. Can you imagine me watching my stomach grow? 

Now that you all are contemplating this lovely topic, I guess I'll address things I've actually, you know, done in my recent life. Today was the last day of my internship at the WIFP. We cranked out a print and online newsletter.  I'll give you the links to both when they're up on the website. I was able to talk about everything from media democracy in Iran to the marketing of the purity movement (Jonas Brothers and all) to the ingrained sexism in sport media. 

It's basically an all out feminist party on paper. For the last day my boss gave us free rockin' t-shirts. It has our snazzy little logo on the front and a Malcolm X quote on the back. Yeah, it was that kind of internship. Aren't I the perfect college student? 

On Monday night I got free passes for an advance screening of Julie and Julia, the new Meryl Streep movie, from my boss. I took my mom, because I am the hippest kid on the street.  And she's awesome. AND she knew who Julia Child was. It was cute. It was mostly about cooking and marriage. These are two things with which I have very little personal experience. Julia Child was, however, like 6' 2," so there were definitely tall moments I understood perfectly. Oh yeah, and the younger one blogs. Who knows what that's like? Such a foreign concept. 

And to continue with the most fragmented post in the entire universe, on Saturday Claire and I hit up the Jason Mraz concert at Merriweather.  It was by far the best show I've ever seen, even though the entire contents of the Pacific ocean were dumped on Merriweather throughout the show. Mraz was incredible even came out to the grass for his encore. His opener, Eric Hutchinson (a Blair grad!) was also excellent. I bought his album yesterday. It's fabulous. 

Now, it's 10:36, and I have to clean my room because I've been procrastinating. 

I promise you, this entire post was relevant to the Cheez-Its topic. It's totally cohesive. 

Really. 

One Last Swim

A few weeks ago I had one of the best races of my life. 

Our medley relay team was neck and neck with the lane next to us. I dove in slightly behind, anchoring the relay as usual. I powered through, stuck my turn, and somehow, I touched first. The rush of winning, the screaming cheers, and the celebration reminded me exactly why I love swimming.

Today, after the same race, I sat on the ledge for a few moments, staring at the hands in my lap. They'd touched second. It reminded me exactly why I love swimming. 

The sting of defeat is still more vividly real and valuable than the tempered excitement of the sideline. It's the almosts, not the victories, that made me the athlete and the person I am today. And as I lined up later for my last race as a Kenmont Tsunami, I began to take stock of the 12 years of swimming that had brought me to the edge of that pool, at age 18, finishing. 

What I take away from Kenmont is not the thousands of ribbons that line the bottom of my swim bag or the All-Stars t-shirts or the trophies perched on the edge my dresser. Swimming took a scrawny and shy seven year old girl and taught her she could be powerful. It gave her the opportunity to work with and watch girls--many of whom are now out of college and working and so far removed from those Saturday morning meets-- who were athletes and leaders take charge and win. It gave her the opportunities to be both a captain and a coach. 

But I think the most important things I take away aren't the ones that propelled me in any sort of direction. It's the moments that meant nothing that mean everything. It was fear of the cold water on the first day of practice. It was countless cloudy morning practices and sizzling afternoons. It was playing and singing in the showers with my friends, figuring out how to inflate ours suits and learning the latest cheer. It was the winter evenings spent in humid natatoriums and frozen hair. It was B-meets that stretched far into the summer nights and the sleepy car rides home. It was the borderline inappropriate cheers and the face-paint and the signs. It's those flashes of memory that I'm keeping close. 

After my last race I grabbed my towel, hugging and laughing and smiling. But after a few minutes a pack of seven and eight year old girls lined up to swim.  Maybe they're discovering that they're good at something. And I hope they love it.

Tutoring

Yes, the title of this post is rather bland. I can't help it. My mind is fried. 

You see, somehow, through some twisted cosmic intervention, I am tutoring a girl in sixth grade math. Me. Sixth grade math. 

I have a complicated relationship with math. My parents were always very set on it's importance. They spent many hours trying to convince us that we had natural talent at the subject, and Claire and I spent many hours figuring out new hiding places for the flash cards they'd try to make us do. Any success we had with math--a fair amount of it, I might add--really has to be attributed to my mother. It helps that she's a genius, but it's really that she would sit down with us no matter what the hour, and by GOD we were going to finish that problem sheet even if it kills us. 

She got me through 1st grade subtraction and 11th grade calculus. Not many moms can help their kids with calculus, but mine can. Totally feminista, right? 

Anyway, I decided that math was dead to me the moment I found out that IC accepted my calc and stat AP credits.   Then, suddenly, I needed to remember how to do simple things like divide decimals. 

Needless to say I felt rusty. I could feel the cogs in my brain churning. It was unpleasant. I think every little wrinkle in my brain was screaming, "What is this crap? Give us more theory! We like theories! Let's structure a paper instead! PLEASSSEEEE?!" 

But no. We had to finish that workbook, even if it killed us. 

Once the session was up, though, I wandered brain-dead into the kitchen and started brewing coffee...mainly because its currently illegal for me to consume anything more appropriate.

I'm Officially Turning in to a Crotchety Old Person

I announced this to my parents, who responded--per usual--by rolling their eyes and sighing, "You're eighteen." 

Which is the rational response. That's true. But, you see, I have been complaining about things far beyond the sullen-teenager spectrum. Oh, yes. 

I am that person that gets annoyed at tourists on the Metro. I NEVER wanted to be that person. I get off for my internship at Woodley Park, which happens to be the zoo stop. Meaning, there are a lot of fanny-packs and A LOT of people who stand on the left. 

Now, listen. I've been riding the metro my entire life.  My Dad's a metro pro.  Any time we were on there, there is no way he put up with any of that crap with us.  We stood on the right. We walked on the left. I am pretty sure that at age five I thought you could be arrested for standing on the left. 

If I ever enter local politics I am totally making that into law. 

I'm nice about it. I'm not exactly screaming, "MOVE!" and drop-kicking people. I'm non-confrontational, and I'll say, "Excuse me!" cheerily and then, in the interest of their cultural education, throw out, "Left side's for walking, right side's for standing!" as I speed down the escalator. Most tourists at Woodley are clinging desperately to the rail, because that escalator is crazily long and steep.  But I grew up at Wheaton, running down the longest single span escalator in the Western Hemisphere. My dad walks down it reading a book. 

Okay, he's a little crazy, but seriously. Suck it up, tourists. 

See what I mean? 

Crotchety. 

Relaxation, Happiness, and Friends

It's almost impossible to describe how much fun I had this fourth of July weekend.  Claire, a few of my friends and I headed up to Otis for a few days of trying to tan and playing in the water.  We all were in desperate need of a break, seeing as we literally picked Claire up fromher organic chemistry final exam on the way. Sometimes, pictures are just the way to go.

Here are Some Thoughts

1. I wish I had figured out how to open the hood of my car before taking it to get the oil changed today and before I got laughed at. I obviously suck at fulfilling any sort of feminist stereotype. 

 

2. I think my shoulders honestly don't know what hit them with this swimming thing. They were seriously dropping f-bombs at me during practice. 

3. Today, I was one of those obnoxious people on the phone at the supermarket, trying to figure out what the heck I was supposed to buy. Sadder is that I was only buying two things, apples and swiss cheese. 

4. I love watching The Deadliest Catch  because all of it looks so awful, terrible and miserable that my life feels gloriously blissful in comparison. 

5. I have caught a few snippets of Wimbledon this year.  I love watching tennis because it's something I cannot do.  At all. I'm better at tennis than I am at soccer, but I've still physically injured others will attempting to act like a Williams sister. 

6.  I am never, EVER going on a boat in the ocean. It's just not happening. 

7. Um, I'm sleepy. 

I've also just uploaded pictures, so let me just say for the record that I crucially miss these people: 

but love hanging with these!

No Hillary Sighting, But Still an Experience

For my internship sometimes my boss sends us to random events she's notified of to rep the WIFP. They're not mandatory, but I like to go.  And by "like" I mean, I am aware that I totally should. That's why I was down in Dupont Tuesday, and why I explored Foggy Bottom, the State Department, and many metro stations yesterday. 

I got down to Foggy Bottom insanely early because, as I've noted before, getting anywhere is just insane at this point. I miss the Wheaton station.  It's totally a "don't know what you've got till it's gone" type of thing. It's so absurdly convenient. Anyway, so when I finally got to Foggy Bottom all the way from the Rockville station, I had some extra time to kill and did a little exploring.  I then realized that it was 90 degrees out, and I didn't want to look like I'd jumped in a pool while wearing professional attire, so I grabbed lunch at the GWU Pita Pit and admired their air conditioning. 

I then met up with other intern L and we found the State Department. We had both been convinced that we would get lost trying to find it. For once in my 18 years of existence, we were incorrect. Mainly because we had to make absolutely no turns to get there. The lobby was right off 23rd street. 

The briefing was interesting, as a rep from the OAS detailed the changes and developments of US relations with the Western Hemisphere. Per usual, this ignored Canada. Because seriously, when you're dealing with Cuba and upheaval in Honduras, someone has to get ignored. Canada is usually a good candidate for things like this. I'm not so sure how valuable the information will be for the WIFP, but whatever. I got to wear a pass that said in big letters, "ESCORT REQUIRED" and got to explore the depths of the State Department. 

And by that, I mean I got to see the lobby and like 3 different hallways. And a set of stairs. Therefore, totally worth it. 

The conference room they put us in had tables set in a square with U.N-esque microphones at each place, which was pretty snazzy. Totally inexplicable, however, was the insane number of huge fake plants put in the center of the tables. It was like there was a forest in the conference room.

Also interesting is that they sell bouquets outside the state department. I am not sure if this is solely in response to Hil's broken elbow or something, or if state department workers are just constantly in need of a cheering up. Even better was that the labels on the types of bouquets were "Fancy" and "Extra Fancy." 

That is my type of description. I am obviously meant for future employment in the federal government. Or the floral business. 

It then took me over 2 hours to get home. Awesome. 

Now, I'm off to do my mother proud and shove things around in my room so that my floor is visible. 

Everything I've Done Ever That I've Failed to Report in a Timely Manner

Okay. My life. I don't even really know where to begin!

Claire and I hit up the Fray and Jack's Mannequin concert with some of our favorites...geez, I don't even know when anymore. A short while ago. I did, however, realize that there is a really strange trend going on with my concert-going experiences. EVERY SHOW I've seen, or will see at Merriweather has had a performer with the initials JM. John Mayer, Jack's Mannequin, and Jason Mraz. Weird, right?

I informed Claire of this excitedly, and she responded, "Um, so?" I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who cares about these types of things. 

Last weekend the fam hauled up to Massachusetts.  The weather was gross, but that didn't stop us. I'm determined to finally get up on slalom this summer, so I spent Friday morning out in 60 degree weather on the lake, regretting my goal-setting as I plunged into the icy cold water. 

I also got to drive my Dad while he skied.  If there's one thing I've effectively absorbed from my paternal side of the family, it's the ability to maneuver all types of water-crafts. I can park that jet-ski like nobody's business. I guess this is cosmically supposed to make up for the fact that I am terrible at driving a car. I've always been better in the water. I'm better at swimming than walking. I've never fallen on my face while swimming. 

Let's pretend that makes logical sense and move on, shall we?

This week has been chock full of insanity, and it's only Wednesday. The Red Line crash makes transportation crazily difficult, especially as I'm heading downtown basically every day this week. Yesterday I attended a clearinghouse on women's issues and got to talk to many really cool professional women who are dedicated to making a difference in our democratic society. It was all very grown up and everything.  I would have felt very mature except for the fact that in getting there, I got wickedly lost in Dupont Circle and had to call my Dad like three times for him to direct me there. 

Someday, I'll have a sense of direction. Someday. I had even map-quested the walking directions before hand, and I still got lost. 

Sigh.

To keep in the theme of me being lost, today I drove myself to the most random pool ever for a B-meet. The GPS I was using gave me totally different directions than the ones I'd written down, and as I started to pass farms (yes, FARMS!) I began to get suspicious. I thought perhaps I was being directed to the wrong location, like another state or, because of all the trees, Narnia. 

The GPS was not wrong. I actually arrived at my intended location. Early. I didn't even have to use my written directions!

Can those engineers at Claire's school please shift their research foci to something like, I don't know, teleportation? Because I would totally appreciate it.  

Goop. Really.

I had been avoiding this for a long time, but I finally decided I should check out Gwyneth Paltrow's "lifestyle" advice blog, GOOP. Yes. That is what it is called.  A real blogger would do some research and find out why the HELL its name sounds like a Robin Williams movie, but I am really just writing this because I am bored and there is very little interesting about my life right now.

You see, I thought I should check this out, because I think Gwyneth and I have a lot in common.  We are both blondes. We are both relatively tall. My mother also appeared in the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2.  Yeah, Blythe Danner is an Emmy and Tony award-winning actress, but because I have an aversion to research right now, a low-grossing sequel that I TOTALLY SAW is all that is coming to mind. I will probably not marry the front man of alt-rock group, because I am still under the impression that men that wear tighter pants than I are gay. I will probably not name my child after a fruit. Instead, I will choose a terrible trendy name that my parents will totally hate, like Madison. 

Despite those minor differences, I was sure I could learn from GOOP, because I am an impressionable young teenager, and I am supposed to model myself after those skinny beautiful people on-screen. 

I automatically LOVED this website because it has an annoying but calming intro. It encouraged me to "nourish my inner aspect." 

No. Just no. What does that even mean?

Exploring the site, Gwyneth shares a lovely cookie recipe that she received when her BFF Kathy Lee Joel and her charming husband "William" came over for dinner.  Yes, in Gwyneth Paltrow's world, Billy Joel is William. Seriously. In another section, she directly asks me if I am "stuck in a feedback loop of tension and unrest." Obviously. I then get the details of her post-holidays detox diet. Which I needed. Um, gross.

So in the end, I think I am a better person for having explored GOOP. I think I've written the longest post ever on this blog, and it wasn't even about me. It's about someone who writes an advice blog...someone who thought making Shallow Hal was a good idea. 

In the world I actually live in, today I hung out with the friend I've had since second grade and went to swim practice. It doesn't provide for extremely entertaining blogs, but I'm pretty sure friend A is way more fun to hang out with than William Joel.