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.