today I woke up and went to class at eight a.m. and presented a short paper to my core class. I could speak at the beginning of class, but by the end, when I tried to ask a question, I was shit out of luck in the voicebox department. I went to film class and fell asleep. I went to spin class, and A played Tegan and Sara, which was awesome. She is on a more alternative kick nowadays. We are planning to petition the gym for a Sunday morning class rather than the wacky 4:45 time. I called and confirmed a babysitting job, then attempted to call Aveda twice to schedule a hair appointment. No luck. I mailed thank-you notes to L and L and my car payment, got gas, and took M to her orthodontist appointment. I like hanging out with her--she is pretty sweet and we always have pretty pleasant conversations.
Due partly to the horrific lack of a nearby Target in Portland, I went to Target, after taking M to Publix and dropping her off at her mom's, for about an hour and a half, and spent a ridiculous amount of money. A lot of it was for other people's birthdays and whatnot, so that was okay. I have Am's Christmas gift, various cards, GY's birthday present, and a perhaps present for Mom. I also bought sushi and will return the verdict on my five dollar Target brown rice-and-veggie roll later. I suspect the wasabi will cover any horrible tastes, and hope to actually make sushi myself someday soon. At least I don't eat meat--non fish sushi should be very inexpensive. I also bought products to avoid having my skin flake off my face, which will be nice. I found a gray hat that actually fit me, which will be exciting tomorrow because apparently the ATL is going to freeze, and all of the news stations are attempting to get their viewers to freak out about it. I personally am not afraid, since I both own a coat and am aware of the antifreeze levels in my car, the latter thanks to my father.
I am enjoying spending time by myself again, which is a very good sign. I stopped Brokeback Mountain yesterday before the sad part, so I watched that part when I got home, and then everyone (including KB and AK) came over and we watched Grey's and Private Practice. Then AK cut my hair, which was awesome. She basically made it look like it did when I first got it cut. All I need is a pair of those scissors that cut every fourth hair so I can thin everything out, and then I will be good in the hair department for another six weeks. I may need to start buying her dinner every couple of months, as I possess no comparable tradeable skill.
Honors, Medieval, and many trips to the boss's house tomorrow.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Portland: interruption for day four
My attempts to resist PST have failed. I have succumbed. I am merely an hour away from assimilating totally into the Portland time zone. I am a job, two years, and housing away from the city itself... but why sweat the details? :)
Walking around the Pearl District was an excellent way to reassure myself that yes, the nanny market is vibrant in almost every community. We had sushi for fifty percent off. I had the largest avocado rolls I'd ever seen and flirted with Nicole, pleasantly buzzed from my new favorite form of alcohol, hot sake. It tastes like bread and once I swallowed it correctly and it hit the right part of my tongue and I didn't grimace. Kyung-Ah had the spider rolls, which looked the part, and Nicole had this crazy roll that had a raw egg in the middle of imitation crab meat, which looked like the eyeball from Lord of the Rings.
Before that, we went to the Portland Aveda Institute and got facials. It was amazing. I incorrectly assumed that getting a facial involved someone putting on a mask, letting it sit, and then taking it off. Nope. From the moment I was told that we were doing aromatherapy, I knew that I was in for a thirty-dollar treat. My therapist was extremely nice and loved my salmon colored coat I picked up on SE Belmont for twenty bucks. It was lovely. The space was awesome; concrete floors, a huge staircase to the main level, long gray curtains separating each of the spaces into little rooms. I had a little hitch when I tried to pay; turns out that I had left my debit card and taken my school pass instead. But my sister gave me the number to the card and all was well. The girl who had rung me up had a nice tattoo of a pumpkin on her back, curving up to her shoulder, which she said she had paid ten dollars for since her friend is a tattoo artist. All of the girls were extremely good-looking and I have decided I should attempt to live near there so I can lure them to dinner with me. Perhaps I should frequent the one in Atlanta as well.
We are going to the Paradox Cafe for the last time tomorrow. I am extremely excited to eat their vegan French Toast again. I had the basil pesto and bruschetta veggie burger today, and it tasted even better than it sounds.
Note to self: learn to cook.
Walking around the Pearl District was an excellent way to reassure myself that yes, the nanny market is vibrant in almost every community. We had sushi for fifty percent off. I had the largest avocado rolls I'd ever seen and flirted with Nicole, pleasantly buzzed from my new favorite form of alcohol, hot sake. It tastes like bread and once I swallowed it correctly and it hit the right part of my tongue and I didn't grimace. Kyung-Ah had the spider rolls, which looked the part, and Nicole had this crazy roll that had a raw egg in the middle of imitation crab meat, which looked like the eyeball from Lord of the Rings.
Before that, we went to the Portland Aveda Institute and got facials. It was amazing. I incorrectly assumed that getting a facial involved someone putting on a mask, letting it sit, and then taking it off. Nope. From the moment I was told that we were doing aromatherapy, I knew that I was in for a thirty-dollar treat. My therapist was extremely nice and loved my salmon colored coat I picked up on SE Belmont for twenty bucks. It was lovely. The space was awesome; concrete floors, a huge staircase to the main level, long gray curtains separating each of the spaces into little rooms. I had a little hitch when I tried to pay; turns out that I had left my debit card and taken my school pass instead. But my sister gave me the number to the card and all was well. The girl who had rung me up had a nice tattoo of a pumpkin on her back, curving up to her shoulder, which she said she had paid ten dollars for since her friend is a tattoo artist. All of the girls were extremely good-looking and I have decided I should attempt to live near there so I can lure them to dinner with me. Perhaps I should frequent the one in Atlanta as well.
We are going to the Paradox Cafe for the last time tomorrow. I am extremely excited to eat their vegan French Toast again. I had the basil pesto and bruschetta veggie burger today, and it tasted even better than it sounds.
Note to self: learn to cook.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Portland; part one
Three days in on my Portland trip, but by day two I could already tell that this was the city for me.
The first day was rough; we traveled for hours and hours, from Nashville to Dallas to Portland. We moved uncertainly, excitedly through the airports. The woman behind us at the security check in Nashville was going somewhere to bury her mother and cried when she told the supervisor about it. I bought water and a raisin and almond packet for seven dollars and boarded the plane. I almost threw up after reading part of Chuck P.'s guide to Portland--not because it was terrible, but because I get motion sickness if I am hunched over reading material and away from the window. I corrected this problem and didn't feel sick again.
The Dallas airport was amazing. It was very high tech and laid out well. The transit system was easily the cleanest I'd ever been on. We boarded our plane after Laura grabbed a wrapped turkey sandwich from a Friday's, and I ate the bread, lettuce, and tomato from that in addition to quite a lot of nuts. The plane ride from Dallas to Portland took forever--about four hours. It was interesting to see the changes in the people from flight to flight. The Dallas airport had a much larger obvious gay population than Nashville. The people going on the flight with us to Portland were hippie-laid back. The woman in front of us when we were loading on the plane was listing all of the animals that she and her toddler daughter were returning to see, among them a chicken.
After the plane ride that lasted approximately forever, we landed in a much smaller, much less crowded airport and settled down on the MAX train. It had a raised seating area in the back, which is different from MARTA. It was slower than MARTA, too, but the thing I like best about the Portland public transit system is that normal people take it. The most annoying person was a young man who wished for the entire train to hear his rap music and to sample his own voice quietly rapping along. I wanted to tell him, "What are you trying to prove? Turn down your damn music. Don't try to prove how 'hood you are in fucking Portland. I'm from Memphis, where the actual ghettos are." But I did not say this to him and that was probably a good thing. He got off two stops later.
Finding our bus, 14, the bus we have come to love during this trip, was really hard because I am severely directionally challenged. Severely. I have tried to overcome this defect and have mostly succeeded in the are of driving. I have yet to master it in the area of walking. Laura found our bus for us. We dragged our suitcases on the train, entering with a bunch of dreaded people about our age carrying a box of potted plants. I got off way too early, terrified we were going to pass our hostel. After walking a few blocks, we reboarded the bus, where a nice man told us he would tell us when to get off. We finally found it and put our stuff in a room full of girls our age. Two were from Iowa, a plump girl with hair she had dyed blonde in the past and had been growing out her natural brown for quite some time. Her friend was a skinny senior from the University of Iowa. She wore glasses and got up as early as I did the next morning, and I liked her. There was another girl who was apparently born to travel. She had spent a year as a preschcol teacher and was getting ready to start a farm with her partner, her boyfriend of three weeks. She left the hostel the next day, not sure where she was going to sleep the next night, money running out, and all of her stuff, including her dog, with her boyfriend in his trailer. She told me that when things look rocky, something always comes up to save you. She had a job starting Thursday and nowhere to live. She didn't come back to the hostel, so I presume something good happened to her.
Another girl, Nicole, is really groovy, particularly because she's letting me use her computer to type all of this out. We're going with Laura and the last girl, Qting, to get facials and other girlie stuff at Aveda tomorrow. Or at least I hope we are, since we didn't make appointments. An older lady joined us last night, but she pretty much spends all of her time on her laptop in the kitchen. Laura wants to shoot her because she snores.
I took a shower the first night we were here, after we went to Hot Lips and I ate a wonderful vegan pizza (they just MAKE them here, you don't have to explain to them why you don't want cheese--no, seriously, no cheese). Then we both took showers and felt better and fell asleep way too early, on Eastern time.
The next day, it was misting as we headed out in search of the famous Paradox Cafe for brunch. I had been awake and up since seven PST, feeling around in the dark and going upstairs to brush my teeth and straighten my fro. I woke Laura up and we headed out around eight. The neighborhood was quiet. We cut through a residential area that was gorgeous; modest-sized homes with amazing greenery and gardens, painted pale yellow and purple and a million other colors. One house had an iron fence with beautiful color patches on it. It was like being in a different world. No one owned an SUV bigger than a Honda Element, all the cars told us to share the road or recycle or keep Portland weird, and every house had bright city-issued bins for recycling and compost. COMPOST. I had found my neighborhood, sans the job for buying my way into it. I have never seen so many bikes in my life. We saw a woman with a two seater, her tiny daughter on a smaller attached bike.
The Paradox Cafe was beautiful and I have never been so in awe of French toast in my life. I had butter, too, and tofu that was delicious and veggie sausage. I was ridiculously full and in awe of a city that was not only well aware of what a vegan ate, they came stocked in preparation for it.
Next post: our trip to the vegan mall, rain, and what the hell a Plaid Pantry is. The beginning of my hope to find a Target.
The first day was rough; we traveled for hours and hours, from Nashville to Dallas to Portland. We moved uncertainly, excitedly through the airports. The woman behind us at the security check in Nashville was going somewhere to bury her mother and cried when she told the supervisor about it. I bought water and a raisin and almond packet for seven dollars and boarded the plane. I almost threw up after reading part of Chuck P.'s guide to Portland--not because it was terrible, but because I get motion sickness if I am hunched over reading material and away from the window. I corrected this problem and didn't feel sick again.
The Dallas airport was amazing. It was very high tech and laid out well. The transit system was easily the cleanest I'd ever been on. We boarded our plane after Laura grabbed a wrapped turkey sandwich from a Friday's, and I ate the bread, lettuce, and tomato from that in addition to quite a lot of nuts. The plane ride from Dallas to Portland took forever--about four hours. It was interesting to see the changes in the people from flight to flight. The Dallas airport had a much larger obvious gay population than Nashville. The people going on the flight with us to Portland were hippie-laid back. The woman in front of us when we were loading on the plane was listing all of the animals that she and her toddler daughter were returning to see, among them a chicken.
After the plane ride that lasted approximately forever, we landed in a much smaller, much less crowded airport and settled down on the MAX train. It had a raised seating area in the back, which is different from MARTA. It was slower than MARTA, too, but the thing I like best about the Portland public transit system is that normal people take it. The most annoying person was a young man who wished for the entire train to hear his rap music and to sample his own voice quietly rapping along. I wanted to tell him, "What are you trying to prove? Turn down your damn music. Don't try to prove how 'hood you are in fucking Portland. I'm from Memphis, where the actual ghettos are." But I did not say this to him and that was probably a good thing. He got off two stops later.
Finding our bus, 14, the bus we have come to love during this trip, was really hard because I am severely directionally challenged. Severely. I have tried to overcome this defect and have mostly succeeded in the are of driving. I have yet to master it in the area of walking. Laura found our bus for us. We dragged our suitcases on the train, entering with a bunch of dreaded people about our age carrying a box of potted plants. I got off way too early, terrified we were going to pass our hostel. After walking a few blocks, we reboarded the bus, where a nice man told us he would tell us when to get off. We finally found it and put our stuff in a room full of girls our age. Two were from Iowa, a plump girl with hair she had dyed blonde in the past and had been growing out her natural brown for quite some time. Her friend was a skinny senior from the University of Iowa. She wore glasses and got up as early as I did the next morning, and I liked her. There was another girl who was apparently born to travel. She had spent a year as a preschcol teacher and was getting ready to start a farm with her partner, her boyfriend of three weeks. She left the hostel the next day, not sure where she was going to sleep the next night, money running out, and all of her stuff, including her dog, with her boyfriend in his trailer. She told me that when things look rocky, something always comes up to save you. She had a job starting Thursday and nowhere to live. She didn't come back to the hostel, so I presume something good happened to her.
Another girl, Nicole, is really groovy, particularly because she's letting me use her computer to type all of this out. We're going with Laura and the last girl, Qting, to get facials and other girlie stuff at Aveda tomorrow. Or at least I hope we are, since we didn't make appointments. An older lady joined us last night, but she pretty much spends all of her time on her laptop in the kitchen. Laura wants to shoot her because she snores.
I took a shower the first night we were here, after we went to Hot Lips and I ate a wonderful vegan pizza (they just MAKE them here, you don't have to explain to them why you don't want cheese--no, seriously, no cheese). Then we both took showers and felt better and fell asleep way too early, on Eastern time.
The next day, it was misting as we headed out in search of the famous Paradox Cafe for brunch. I had been awake and up since seven PST, feeling around in the dark and going upstairs to brush my teeth and straighten my fro. I woke Laura up and we headed out around eight. The neighborhood was quiet. We cut through a residential area that was gorgeous; modest-sized homes with amazing greenery and gardens, painted pale yellow and purple and a million other colors. One house had an iron fence with beautiful color patches on it. It was like being in a different world. No one owned an SUV bigger than a Honda Element, all the cars told us to share the road or recycle or keep Portland weird, and every house had bright city-issued bins for recycling and compost. COMPOST. I had found my neighborhood, sans the job for buying my way into it. I have never seen so many bikes in my life. We saw a woman with a two seater, her tiny daughter on a smaller attached bike.
The Paradox Cafe was beautiful and I have never been so in awe of French toast in my life. I had butter, too, and tofu that was delicious and veggie sausage. I was ridiculously full and in awe of a city that was not only well aware of what a vegan ate, they came stocked in preparation for it.
Next post: our trip to the vegan mall, rain, and what the hell a Plaid Pantry is. The beginning of my hope to find a Target.
it's nearly four in the morning, atlanta time, and i can't sleep. i'm looking up how to move cross country in a scion xa and listening to the wind chimes outside. there's one night manager sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop and the tall creepy guy who always seems to be hovering right outside of our bathroom or room who may or may not actually be in a room now; otherwise, the house is asleep. it is a state i'd like to be in. we're going to the university tomorrow to check things out and friday we're getting facials. i'm hungry already. i need sleep.
Monday, December 29, 2008
I am sitting in a Panera, utilizing their free wi-fi. (It is nice wi-fi, too, and free. Most importantly free.) I am still a little tired from driving here from Cashville on four hours of sleep, at five in the morning. I am never awake at five in the morning and I almost fell asleep at nine-thirty on the interstate outside of Atlanta. Luckily the traffic is always terrible in this city, and I was required to be very awake to navigate the lanes. I will not be making such a drive again. But I left in the still darkness and filled up my car in Murfreesboro for $1.47 a gallon and watched the sun rise as I traveled east. I had my sister's Twilight soundtrack CD to keep me company and the warmth of the December air. (Seriously, it's been in the sixes and seventies. In December. For most of December.)
I had to work at the gym and arrived a scant two minutes late in the parking lot for my shift. Ki, one of the personal trainers, had assembled a mostly vegan brunch for myself and my coworker, which was incredibly sweet and a lovely meal after my ride. I worked, went to Lottie's for an hour and a half, and went to babysit L and C. They were surprisingly good. I ate an entire small Mellow Mushroom pizza with black olives and sundried tomatoes and basil, and they shared a half cheese and half pepperoni. It was very nice to be paid to go out and eat a $12 pizza. (I maintain they should not charge me so much if I do not ask for cheese, but no one has ever asked my opinion on this.) I put the kids to bed and fell asleep for a little part of House. Then their parents got home and I went to Lot's and fell asleep for real, until 9:45, when I got up to go babysit L and C again, from 10:30 to 4:20. It was a low-key day, with much television, three rounds of Pretty Princess, and almost an hour outside enjoying the weather. I was also treated to the vegan waffles in their freeze (or, rather, treated myself). Then I went to the cinema with the intention of seeing Twilight. (Despite my enormous dislike of the message of the series and its insipid writing and shallow character develop and ridiculous plot, I nonetheless slightly enjoyed the movie). However, they weren't playing it at the theater I went to, and thus I decided to enjoy some internet time. Which led to me sitting in Panera, checking up on things and uploading Christmas morning onto my new Flickr account and blogging about all of it.
One of the blogs I read features a lady who has taken it upon herself to take one picture of something every day at the same time. I wonder what kind of carrying case she has for her camera. Not the kind I have, I suspect. But I thought that the once-a-day idea was clever and I will endeavor to make a list of things I should do every day as well.
The first thing on my list will be to get more than four hours of sleep.
I had to work at the gym and arrived a scant two minutes late in the parking lot for my shift. Ki, one of the personal trainers, had assembled a mostly vegan brunch for myself and my coworker, which was incredibly sweet and a lovely meal after my ride. I worked, went to Lottie's for an hour and a half, and went to babysit L and C. They were surprisingly good. I ate an entire small Mellow Mushroom pizza with black olives and sundried tomatoes and basil, and they shared a half cheese and half pepperoni. It was very nice to be paid to go out and eat a $12 pizza. (I maintain they should not charge me so much if I do not ask for cheese, but no one has ever asked my opinion on this.) I put the kids to bed and fell asleep for a little part of House. Then their parents got home and I went to Lot's and fell asleep for real, until 9:45, when I got up to go babysit L and C again, from 10:30 to 4:20. It was a low-key day, with much television, three rounds of Pretty Princess, and almost an hour outside enjoying the weather. I was also treated to the vegan waffles in their freeze (or, rather, treated myself). Then I went to the cinema with the intention of seeing Twilight. (Despite my enormous dislike of the message of the series and its insipid writing and shallow character develop and ridiculous plot, I nonetheless slightly enjoyed the movie). However, they weren't playing it at the theater I went to, and thus I decided to enjoy some internet time. Which led to me sitting in Panera, checking up on things and uploading Christmas morning onto my new Flickr account and blogging about all of it.
One of the blogs I read features a lady who has taken it upon herself to take one picture of something every day at the same time. I wonder what kind of carrying case she has for her camera. Not the kind I have, I suspect. But I thought that the once-a-day idea was clever and I will endeavor to make a list of things I should do every day as well.
The first thing on my list will be to get more than four hours of sleep.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
This is a different kind of happiness. More soothing, more stable. Gives me an undisputed place in the world. I work. My success in this endeavor depends largely on my skill rather than the whims of personality and circumstances, though circumstances certainly do play a role in employment. I am going to be Editor-in-Chief and I am so proud to think those words. A dawning awareness that I will likely succeed in feeding and clothing myself--and beyond—is trickling down to my conscience. I have the tools to live a satisfying American life, as defined by me. I am aware that I will fail sometimes, but will unlikely fall far enough to necessitate moving to my parents’ house. I think back to the other times I have failed and realize that they were gifts. The RA job in particular comes to mind.
I am sitting in the same house, on the same couch, as I did barely four months ago and my world has shifted again. Being on my own gives me clarity, and a degree of narcissism while I’m by myself, but what else is there to think about when I am alone? I put too much of myself into relationships too early, and I’ve gained a lot of wisdom from last year, but I also know how easy it is to toss every morsel of knowledge and understanding when she is in the room. I am wondering about my future. The next month is planned out but uncertain—it is a challenge to be as independent as I wish to be. I have never navigated a Christmas break here before; I have never navigated so much temporary housing. It’s interesting.
I think that is what I will remember about this semester, and probably this year, and possibly the next two years: the transitions. Sleeping in different beds and playing with different kids and sitting in different fabulously expensive houses and driving home at midnight; one; two; three; four in the morning. Clutching hundred dollar checks for spending five hours in a renovated meat packing plant with a Chihuahua puppy and kids disinterested in authority. I am phone calls to parents and endless hours of On Demand television and doing laundry in Brooks’ house. My home is cramped and temporary but I miss it. I have decided it is probably prudent to cease buying possessions and to live in the dorms—wherever I go from here, it will require a move. And moves are fucking expensive.
I am glad for work and going home in less than a week. I like being alone, and I love being away from campus (if I could just carve out my suite and take it away, it would be lovely), but I turn into an unhappy camper without friends. As one should.
I am sitting in the same house, on the same couch, as I did barely four months ago and my world has shifted again. Being on my own gives me clarity, and a degree of narcissism while I’m by myself, but what else is there to think about when I am alone? I put too much of myself into relationships too early, and I’ve gained a lot of wisdom from last year, but I also know how easy it is to toss every morsel of knowledge and understanding when she is in the room. I am wondering about my future. The next month is planned out but uncertain—it is a challenge to be as independent as I wish to be. I have never navigated a Christmas break here before; I have never navigated so much temporary housing. It’s interesting.
I think that is what I will remember about this semester, and probably this year, and possibly the next two years: the transitions. Sleeping in different beds and playing with different kids and sitting in different fabulously expensive houses and driving home at midnight; one; two; three; four in the morning. Clutching hundred dollar checks for spending five hours in a renovated meat packing plant with a Chihuahua puppy and kids disinterested in authority. I am phone calls to parents and endless hours of On Demand television and doing laundry in Brooks’ house. My home is cramped and temporary but I miss it. I have decided it is probably prudent to cease buying possessions and to live in the dorms—wherever I go from here, it will require a move. And moves are fucking expensive.
I am glad for work and going home in less than a week. I like being alone, and I love being away from campus (if I could just carve out my suite and take it away, it would be lovely), but I turn into an unhappy camper without friends. As one should.
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