Hints of beginnings (aka maybe there's hope that I'll graduate after all)

On the bus, I sat to the grad student who I most frequently share an office with.* He'd been out late the night before celebrating with a friend who completed the job market process. Obviously this gets the two of us talking about our current state of "I-have-no-idea-what-next-year-is-going-to-be-like-itis."

But I'm getting an inkling that our advisor is beginning to start what I think of next year....now. (I guess it makes sense. One market ending means the next one's beginning. It's time to recruit the high school juniors to college and all.)

Other Grad Student: I wonder if he's going to have us all go out for dinner at the conference.
Me: Nah. I never see him at conferences.
OGS: He tried to organize something that one time. Of course, it didn't work out.
Me: I think I was behind that.
OGS: That sounds about right.

That afternoon got an e-mail from my advisor inviting me and a handful of his other past and present students to dinner at the conference.

Oh.

* Actually, not my officemate. Funny phrase for a reason.

I was going to write a longer post

and talk about who I hang out with at conferences

instead of my advisor.

Or, often, other people from my program.

But I finished my oatmeal and should go catch the bus again this morning.  

Complaining

I've started becoming a complainer.

~~~

I bought a pair of Blondo boots last winter from a local shoe store. Love the boots. But when I pulled them out for this season, I noticed the heel had worn funny. Looked at the brand's website and saw this:

Our Blondo products are guaranteed against manufacturing defects under normal wear. The defective product must be returned to the retailer who will apply its own return policy.

Okay then. Took my boots to the store before I left town for three weeks. "The website said I should bring them here?" I *think* they would have let me return the boots. "No! I like them! Is it possible to get them repaired?"

And they did.

I picked them up today. No charge. ('Cause there shouldn't be.) Bought a pair of socks though.

~~~

There's a tube of toothpaste sitting on the back of my couch. It's the same brand I always use, but crazy bad batch. The minty flavor didn't get stirred in with the paste. Or something. There's a number to let them know, and, y'know, I think I will.

~~~

I have a new favorite store for clothes. Bought a couple hundred dollars worth of merchandise there this fall (which is a lot for me). One of my cool new shirts got holes in it from threads breaking. I sent the store an e-mail to let them know.

It wasn't written with the intent of whining. I told them all the things I liked about the store too. But there was a message that said, "I thought you were better than this. This isn't what I thought I bought."

We'll see if anything comes of it.

~~~

My internet company sent a letter that they're increasing the speed (more than I need) and raising prices. While I might have done enough complaining in the past week, it may be about time to see about switching companies for that service too.


~~~

It's strange becoming the person who complains. It's not something we respect per se. Too easy to hear it as whining or being a jerk. But there is something empowering in claiming "This is not what I expected." When something doesn't last as long as it should, it's okay to use the warranty. When something is bad straightway, it's okay to return it. It's not about being cheap. It is about getting what I paid for.

Smartwool socks are always a good gift idea for me
Especially if they're cute ones
My parents know this
So me buying the socks
Actually is kinda a big deal

Growing cooler, not older

In middle school I thought it would be a sign of how out of it I was when I learned about new music from NPR. I'm choosing to think NPR is that much cooler now and submit the new All Songs 24/7 stream as evidence.

(Also, ever in love with the Current. Which, let's face it, has been a major source of new music for me since it was founded my sophomore year of college. [Is that right?] )

Sign of getting older that no one ever talks about

I Facebook friended a guy I met swing dancing last night. He told me he was still in college, but it wasn't until I saw his birthday that I realized he's younger than some of my students.

Relating to him, totally peer.

Relating to them, mostly still in teacher mode.

It's crazy how we get cast into the roles we meet people in. I almost understand it, and then, shocked.

I have a fair number of friends older than me. Old enough to have been my teacher. Or baby-sitter. Even some who that baby-sitter is really when I was a baby. But I don't have many friend more than, say, 3 years younger than me. Those people were my sister's friends growing up. Or didn't overlap enough in college. Or I haven't run into in the "real world" yet.

But it's happening. And I'm excited for it.

Puddles on a Clear Day

Though here's proof that water was involved (for part of the day).


Some days I marvel at how much I've changed.

This evening's been a reflection at how much some things stay the same.

Listened to the new Belle and Sebastian album. (Thanks NPR!) Flashback to junior year. Writing a paper for Annette. Listening to their live concert as it streamed on NPR's website. Driving to the coast to talk to my parents' friend about her career. Hanging out with D. It's been a while since I listened to them on repeat. I didn't realize how much I still liked them.

I've listened to Ghost of Rockschool over 5 times now. (Probably over 10 times. It ends and I click over and start it again.) I'm pretty positive the song would have been my favorite five years ago too.

I've seen God in the sun
I've seen God in the street
God before bed and the promise of sleep
God in the puddles and the la-de-sum-eise
I've seen God shining up from her reflection

Feet are mine
The car is someone else's
Both photographed this afternoon

Musings on music and memories

I like making playlists in iTunes.

Some are time specific--Middle School Dance.
Or genre specific--Popular phase rockness.
Some are mood specific--Calming.
Remind me of a place--Camp associations.
Or a general idea of a life situation--Cheesy Lovely.
Sometimes I pick a word for a theme--Mail call.
Or my general mood--Nonsense syllables.

There are over 50 lists (after that I stopped counting).

Exactly two are named after people. Created to remind me of our relationship.

Two friends who never met each other. At one point I'm sure they knew of each other.

The two friends who attended camp with me for years (different camps). The ones who my college friends heard stories about when I talked about my childhood.

The two friends from my life before high school who I have any semblance of contact with now. Though it's pretty scarce.

One of them got married a few weeks ago. I went to the wedding because I needed that connection with my past. It's selfish, but made sense. Processing my emotions from her wedding has made me think more about the other one.

During tenth grade we e-mailed daily. In addition to frequent IM conversations. When I wrote him last weekend my subject, "Want more than an annual check-in," sums up our current communication.

Hearing back from him brightened my day. He's engaged now, to a girl I only know of from college away messages. And I'm happy for him. And happy that I'm happy. (I really was a mix of emotions after the wedding.)

I'm listening to my mix named after him. It must sound random to my housemate, but it makes me smile. Screaming summer. And dancing. And laughing at ourselves. Songs that became the subjects of our e-mails to each other. (I attribute my country music playlist to him.) Songs from away messages. Smiling in the comfort that while these songs don't describe either of us in our current lives they capture a snapshot of my past. It's nice to know that no matter how out of touch we are, some things don't change.

Continuing a tradition of overgrown comments

(This started out as a comment on Allison's LJ. Which was a post that had started out as a comment on someone else's LJ. Which this entry is not very related to. But still, I claim that I'm just continuing the tradition.)

Back when I still had birthday parties, so in elementary/middle school, I always got journals for presents and never really knew what to do with them. Because back then I never wrote much. There's the diary from 5th grade somewhere with a few pages, including my first bra shopping expierence. (Only remember it because I had friends over and they read my diary and then there was some sort of strap popping expierence....Oh middle school...) There's another one with ideas for stories, from back when I was going to grow up to be Madeline L'Engle.

I think my current journal really dates back to 8th grade. While I lived with my parents I was more of the irregular writer. Lots of the angsty stuff. But what surprised me was how much I started writing in my journal when I left home. I went from filling out a journal in 4.5 years, to two journals every three years.

Not to say I don't have my spurts, but it really is my place to debrief my day. All the stuff that I used to talk through with mom and dad. I write at bedtime, so there are many posts along the lines of, "So tired. Just want sleep."

I totally go back and read stuff at times, less so now than I used to. But I think the reason I write is less to have the memories and more to get stuff out. Days when I'm already calm, I'm less likely to write, even though there may be some great stories. Still, it's not my therapy, as much as it fills my routine.

It's been almost a year since I started the blog here. I'm less sure now what my purpose here is. I think this one is more for the stories. More for the stuff I don't want to forget. The fact that it keeps anyone else updated on my life is secondary. (As evidenced by the fact that I didn't tell people about this one for ages. And that I'm still keeping news of it pretty quiet.)

Huh, it's gotten late. Ironically, I sat down with the purpose of writing down a post for my other blog, but haven't. Think I'll go to bed and write in my journal instead.

A day of doing not much somehow equals a long post

Real food is important at any time. I haven't read much on the subject--but it seems like a mindset I was raised with. I do how Michael Pollan sums it up in his manifesto:

Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

That, more or less, is the short answer to the supposedly incredibly complicated and confusing question of what we humans should eat in order to be maximally healthy.

...And you’re better off eating whole fresh foods rather than processed food products. That’s what I mean by the recommendation to “eat food,” which is not quite as simple as it sounds. For while it used to be that food was all you could eat, today there are thousands of other edible foodlike substances in the supermarket. These novel products of food science often come in packages elaborately festooned with health claims, which brings me to another, somewhat counterintuitive, piece of advice: If you’re concerned about your health, you should probably avoid products that make health claims. Why? Because a health claim on a food product is a strong indication it’s not really food, and food is what you want to eat.

You can see how quickly things can get complicated.

Being sick I want real food, but don't have much energy to prepare it. A couple of recipes that seemed easy enough to prepare, despite not seeming to be out of bed for more than 2 hours at a time all day.


First, chicken. Mom's recipe for the crock pot. It turned out simply enough, despite my not having cooked a chicken any time recently. And now I'm prepared to make chicken soup in the crock pot tomorrow.

Roast Chicken

Thoroughly wash one 3-4 lb. roasting hen and pat dry.
(Patting dry ensures good browning.)

Sprinkle cavity generously with salt, pepper, and parsley.

Place in Crock Pot. Dot chicken breast with margarine.

Sprinkle with parsley, basil, tarragon, or rosemary.

Cover and cook on HI 1 hour, 15 min.; then LO 8–10 hours.
(Or to cook it faster leave it on high. I'm not sure how long it takes then. Maybe 3-5 hours?)

Second recipe is adapted from Mollie Katzen's Enchanted Broccoli Forest. Basically chop up the ingredients and throw them in the oven. The pan I used was a bit big for the amount I cooked, so a little bit of burning happened, but it was still good enough to make again.

Tsimmes

1 sweet potato, peeled and chopped into inch-size pieces (or so)
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1 onion, peeled and chopped
1 apple, chopped (see what I mean about the chopping?)
Handful of dried apricots, chopped
Squirt of lemon juice
Pour in some orange juice
Add a little apple juice (the original recipe, about double what I made, called for 1 and 2/3 cups of juice)
1/2 tsp. salt
Sprinkle of cinnamon
Dash of ginger

Preheat oven to 350.

Mix ingredients together in bowl. Put in baking dish (apparently want it deeper rather than thinner layer). Cover (aluminum foil worked for me) and bake for a while. 1.5 to 2 hours? I went a bit over. Then again, I burned.

And it is now most definitely time for bed again.

A comment I left on a friend's blog

She was talking about missing college but knowing that there's no way to go back.

Even if I moved back to the town and just hung around auditing classes all the time, so much of what made it wonderful is gone out into the world, dispersed. I am homesick and there is no home to go back to.

For my part, I don't even know what home I'm homesick for part of the time. Some of it is the friends who have left, but some of it is just the type of people who are at my college. And I think part of it is the actual place. Studying in the chapel, or certain spaces in the library, or wandering the trails around campus.

I was the same way with camp--which was my home pre-college--for a long time. Even after I stopped working there, I expected that I would need to visit annually for many years. But when I went back last summer I realized that, while camp will always be home, I don't need to visit anymore. I've moved on some (assisted in part by the changing nature of the place, but mostly the changing course of life). I half-hope that the adjustment away from college will be the same. That before too long I will go back and realize that I've moved on to another home.

Though I don't know where that home will be.