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.