I Think Everyone Dies in That Movie

Today, Cayuga Lake decided to recreate the conditions of The Perfect Storm. Then, we rowed on it.

We were even doing the same things! We were catching crabs!

That is a crew joke. So Claire will chuckle at my punny-ness and everyone else reading this will shrug and move on.

It hailed. And the wind gusted to 22 mph. Then it rained more. Then it hailed again. And then my pair partner turned around and cackled out of the absurdity of it all.

The coaches realized it was a bad idea to have us go out way too late, and then there was a lot of commotion just having everyone be able to dock.

Also, we had an erg test today, and I did horribly. In fact, I did so badly I burst into tears at the end of it. So, if we're going to keep with the movie theme, let's just say there's crying in crew. Lots of it.

I'm fine now. Well, at least, I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong and working toward putting it behind me.

I'm pretty sure today was the crew gods just messing with me. I mean, seriously? SERIOUSLY?

I am now going and making myself a huge mug of tea. I am essentially drinking away my feelings, but with Bigelow instead of, say, Jack Daniels. Because that would be illegal. And wrong. I did pay attention in middle school health class, Mom and Dad.

The First 2k

Look who I repped today!

And oh, God, ignore my hair. You read my last post, right?

Anyway, we did our race walk-through yesterday in 18 degree temperatures with 20mph winds. It was pleasant. The University of Virginia crews, who had come to race Cornell, looked pissed they'd ventured past the Mason-Dixon line.

Today was only slightly warmer, but without winds. So we were ready to go, ready to take on William-Smith.

Before the race, we linked arms in a huddle. We made inappropriate jokes and cheered.

Then there was the warm up. Quiet. Focus. A kind of rattling anticipation.

Waiting for our turn. I watched my roommate explode off the start with her boat, oars rocking, water splashing. I was so proud. Just look at us!

Our turn. At the start. Adjustments. Quiet. Attention, row!

We're jumped off the start, but we're together. It's controlled. It's catch up time. Seat by seat. Alexa, our coxswain, is grinding her voice for a fight. Half-way through. They're dying, we're flying.

Then the boat rocks. Our stroke seat's oar rips through her oar lock, jolting us to a complete stop. Ten seconds gone fixing. We're two full boat-lengths behind.

The race is gone. But we're not finished. We finish less than a boat behind them.

First there's the crashing disappointment. The knowledge that we were the faster team, barring small mistakes. But then there's pride. We'd never rowed so well in our lives. We recovered amazingly. We caught them.

My sports life is full of imperfections and almosts. But today's almost doesn't matter, because I realized, I'm playing for the huddle and I'm playing for the comeback.

If we've got that kind of strength in us, I can't wait for the next race.

Mark The History Books

Last year, I was all into looking presentable all the time. No sweatpants ever. I tried these things called "sweaters." I even WORE MAKEUP some days. Today, I realized that I no longer give a crap.

It happened progressively. Sleep time needed to be maximized. Goodbye, matching socks. Showers were penciled in my planner to maximize presentability in class. Then we entered spring season. Presentability percentage was cut drastically in favor of food consumption and ability to get to practice.

Today I went to dinner actually looking like I'd jumped in the inlet after our row. We rowed in freezing rain, and then I went straight to dinner. Realizing this was probably a mistake, I ran into my room after eating, pulled off my sopping clothes, and put on two pairs of sweatpants, two shirts, and my sweatshirt. I am writing to you now as a marshmallow. But a warm marshmallow. I anticipate to melt soon, and it will be awesome.

I was also doing reading today in between classes only to look up and see my second class was going to start in three minutes. So I ran across campus in my slippers and beat the professor there. See? The exercise is obviously working.

I figure on What Not to Wear they always yell at people who dress like they're still in college. So I'm going to embrace the short period in my life where looking disheveled is an acceptable lifestyle choice. Then you can all sick Stacy and Clinton on me and I'll get $5,000 for new clothes. It's win-win.

The fact that I have to wear my spandex to Legislative Behavior every time also confuses my professor, who knows I'm on the team but still acts bewildered every day anyway. "Miss Paulson," he said. "I don't know if we've ever had a party leader who wears this much elastic."

Ithaca Crew Went Down to Georgia

Before this spring break I:

1. Didn't nap or sleep anywhere but a bed.

2. Ate slightly less than, say, an army.

3. Generally stayed indoors.

4. Spent several hours a day on the computer and internet.

5. Saw rowing as an extracurricular activity.

And then Georgia happened. It was a whirlwind of hilarity, intensity, exhaustion, freezing cold, heat, sun, rain, excitement, nerves, and fun.

All of varsity described spring trip as "Eat, sleep, row." I didn't realize how incredibly accurate that was. Except, it didn't include 7 a.m. pre-breakfast yoga. After that, our days were eat sleep row eat sleep row eat sleep. Repeat.

First there was the 18-hour bus ride, during which I would fall asleep for an hour at a time and sometimes sink into a semi-conscious haze wondering what in the world I was doing here. At 7am we stopped at a Cracker Barrell, and one of my teammates actually fell asleep face first on the table. Two hours later, we were rigging and washing boats at the Lake Lanier Olympic Center. And soon, we were on the water for the first time since October, still in our what-day-is-it-what-is-this-oar-thing-OMG-is-that-water? haze.

When we finally arrived at our hotel, two of my roommates perfectly expressed our mixed emotions:

And then I actually took no pictures of us doing any work. Or things like rowing, which you would actually want to see. Instead, I busted out the camera when we had our Wednesday afternoon off and went out to dinner! See?

Ignore the old lady moving in warp-speed in the back of this picture.

Afterwards, we somehow ended up in a party store, doing mature things like this:

For the ride back, we all drifted in and out of consciousness until 7 a.m, when we arrived at Ithaca. Unfortunately, the dorms didn't open until noon. That meant we were sleeping in the gym until we could haul our stuff back to our rooms or sleep in a real bed. So I made my jacket into a pillow, made my crew sweatshirt into my own personal cave, and passed out. On the floor. With a million other people scattered around.

I can sleep ANYWHERE now! I am gaining skills for life in college.

So, in sum, I'm exhausted and have a slight sock tan, but boy, was it worth it.

And now...the season begins!

Feminism Makes Me a Better Student

Sometimes I have moments when I'm positive that I'm right and can argue it effectively. They're few and far between. Usually I sit and stew and then go write about it later.

Then, today happened. In our discussion of the gay rights movement, I got into it when a boy in my class said the costumes, sexuality and frivolity displayed at some gay pride parades are damaging to the movement and the participants are impeding the process of change.

I responded that that very sentiment was in fact damaging, and that suggesting dissent should be channeled only through comfortable archetypes is in itself submitting to the politicized, institutionalized norm. If you are in favor of the equal rights for all people, how can you suggest they must remain palatable to those in control of the status quo? Can we be so limiting as to force our social movements to fit neatly into the U.S. history textbook narratives?

Sure, there are places to challenge that argument. There always will be, because it's an opinion. It's fallible. But I realized then that my newfound participation in the feminist media movement--as a reader, as future contributor--makes me a better politics student. It forces me to challenge ideas from angles I'd never considered before. Reading blogs every day teaches me how to argue a point effectively--it forces me to form my own opinions. To research on my own. To avoid jumping to conclusions. To form my own political identity beyond the walls of my home, my high school, my college classrooms.

I have a vivid memory of a mock- presidential election we did elementary school. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew that I was supposed to vote for Clinton. Because that's who I was told to vote for. My parents are always right. And, to back it all up, all my friends were told to vote for him too. Now I think I've reached a point where my political views are my own. I share a lot of my parents' views, because they're intelligent people. But it's really only now that I have the confidence to disagree with my family and friends and follow my own compass, whether I'm in close company or not.

And I kinda like that.

Making a Comeback

I'd been frustrated with crew for a while now, mostly because I wasn't making any improvements and felt like I was regressing. It made sense, because I was sick.

But I'm making a comeback, people!

Today I was finally able to load more weight on at lifting. And I was fine. I even felt like I could do more. Do you know how good that feels? A measurable, trackable representation that you're getting better and recovering? SO GOOD. The feeling that you've got control and power over your body, even after sickness and the fact that it's 7am is unbeatable.

Yesterday we had our first 2k tests. I didn't do as well as I would've liked (especially after I was far away from Claire's best), but I learned something from it. Or, at least, Ashley did and made a really good observation. I didn't hit my potential because I like control. I've not yet given myself permission to hit that tipping point of insanity and power that you need to on a sprint. I've never had trouble letting go on a boat, because when I'm there, my competitiveness and my loyalty to my teammates takes over. On an erg, I've yet to just let it all go and hit the numbers I want.

Next time.

Also, can I point out that it is SUNNY AGAIN in Ithaca? It is turning everyone into crazies. You go through a winter of cloudy skies and 20 degree weather, and when it hits forty, the shorts and flip flops are dragged out. I love me some flip flops, but I have a line. And it is far above 40 degrees. But let me tell you, I am loving this weather.

I promise next post I'll lay off on the sport nerdiness. Maybe.

I've Blogged More Recently Than You Think

A day or two ago I wrote a blog that I didn't post. I was extremely upset and stressed. I was a little bit frantic. So I sat down and pounded at my computer, stopping all productivity to write.

I'm not posting it today. It's not worth today. I'd rather keep it for the right moment--maybe when I see everything through. Graduation? Or some sort of quiet, arbitrary validation of success that would otherwise go unnoticed?

We'll see.

I don't want to rehash the story of how my perfect story fell through and then made me get on a bus today and somehow end up at Cornell only to watch the Cornell women's hockey team take on Clarkson. I would say I watched them win their first ECAC championship, but I didn't. I am a terrible person and left after the second period, when I did enough interviews and was satisfied with my insane amount of b-roll, all of which looks exactly the same. There's people skating. Then people cheering. More skating. More cheering. Skating. Cheering.

I AM TOTALLY OVER SCHOOL.

But I was sitting in an empty ice rink today, having arrived nearly an hour early to scope out the scene. Unnecessary, but that's when the bus schedule wanted me to get there. I sat there watching the two pep bands yell at each other aggressively, and I wondered, why the hell am I here? How did I end up at an ice rink filled with Canadians (yes, nearly every single person I talked to was Canadian. Also, 90% of them did not attend Cornell. Really.) on some random Sunday at a school I don't even attend?

It was kind of fun to pretend I went there though, because I could walk in front of cars like a total tool and justify it by assimilating to campus culture. Seriously? Cornellians walk like drunk, pretentious d-bags. So I pulled on my red hat and sauntered wherever the heck I wanted. It was awesome. Sometimes I wish I had an Ivy-League pedigree to make my PMS attitude legitimate.

Oh, there's always grad school.

Anyway, here's the plan, guys. I'm taking mid-term week by storm, FINISHING IT, and then going to Georgia and having the time of my life. That cool with you? Great. Let's do it!

Another Guessing Game, This Time with More Phlegm

Guess who has bronchitis? ME!

I have this long standing policy of deciding not be sick when it is inconvenient for me. Finally I hauled my butt to the Health Center to demand that they fix me and make me be able to breathe without coughing. They did some breathing tests on me, shook their heads, and then showed me a chart at the general averages of lung strength. I want to drag that little tubey thing I had to blow into to practice to explain to Becky why my pieces were so bad.

Because apparently, I couldn't exactly breathe.

But I'm in the later stages, so they hooked me up with some pills and a snazzy little inhaler. And now I'm going to get magically better. Hopefully before Georgia.

Otherwise, things are fine here in Ithaca. I've forgotten what sun looks like. I turned in a hugely stupid paper today. I should never have purchased those chocolate Newman O's. And the snickerdoodles given so graciously to me (and the crew team, by extension) are now finished. So I can stop going into sugar comas now.

Luckily, the varsity sport thing has kept me from becoming obese. This morning, AT 7 AM, my coach used this machine and a scale to calculate our body fat percentage, which was TOTALLY FUN so early in the morning, when you're feeling totally great about yourself and all you can think about is showering. Luckily, my news was good. I'm between 21 and 22 percent, which is the healthy amount for an athlete at the D-III level. And she warned not to try and lose weight (I'm also right on target there) because I risk just losing muscle instead of fat.

I know, I just blogged about my body fat percentage. TMI ALERT. OVER SHARING. Hey, at least I didn't tweet about it. That would be lame. I only tweet about important things, like Chadwick the Crab. Oh, and Cheez-Its. Why would you ever expect discretion from me? Like, ever?

Anyway, I thought I must share one last anecdote because of its amazing nerdiness. In my political theory class yesterday, the two guys next to me were debating who would win a Presidential election in Middle Earth. The conversation included sentences like, "Well, Gandalf would take the Shire by a landslide." And, "Aragorn would probably take a majority in Rohan and the human cities, but the wizard is more likely to take Rivendell."

If you can top the geekiness of this amazing moment in college history, please tell. I'm looking at you, RPI student and MIT grad. Share!