weekly
23 Apr 2012

2012: week sixteen

April 15 – April 22

This week, I…

  • got a sunburn
  • executed two work events
  • made my first foray into the wide, wild world of Retail
  • called my best friend, my sister, and my mother on the telephone
  • had the pleasure of entertaining the future in-laws on Friday and Saturday
  • only ran 2 miles
  • rediscovered this little thing called “stress eating”

But it’s okay. I am writing this from the other side of “week seventeen” but already I have turned in two final projects and am this-close to finishing two Master’s degrees.

Also, apparently Olympic gymnast Dominique Moceanu retweeted something I wrote professionally last week. Whilst I wrote this post, I had no idea that 1% of my validation anxiety was already quelled.

Reading:

Listening to:

  • Norah Jones’s new album on NPR’s First Listen – my favorite site when I need  quick album on the go.

Watching:

 

writing
22 Apr 2012

a lesson learned writing

One thing I have learned this semester:

Writing for publication = so very different than any writing I have done so far.

I’ve been writing for a few professional blogs this semester and writing some book reviews for print publications. While I’m an old hat at writing for myself in this white blog box, I am still very new at writing and hitting “send.”

The anxiety is high.

I rarely write formal drafts for academic papers and fiction revising still eludes me, but now that I know it’s going directly in the hands of someone else who can decide whether to post or toss, I am a drafting queen. I look over things dozens of times before I’m comfortable. I need to figure out how to do this without missing deadlines (although not being so freaking busy would help).

I have zero faith in my abilities.

This is totally different than my blogging, my academic work. When I blog, I assume 2 people are reading (hello, 2 people!), so I trust myself to throw together a few sentences. I make little distinction between a “good blog” and a “bad blog” because it’s just me, sitting here, throwing spaghetti on the kitchen wall of the Internet to see what sticks, making bad metaphors, taking names… When I write papers, I stress, but I know deep down that I am an A- student. Anything higher, I’m on my game. Anything lower, I was probably slacking in some way. And the A- is good for me, it really is, so even in the worst of paper-writing throes, I know it’ll all work out.

That completely disappears when I’m writing for other folks. I am new, so I must not know what I’m doing. I don’t. Am I writing this book review properly? Does my tone fit in with the tone of this site? Am I too confusing, too cliched, too this, too that?

Whatever part of me thinks I am a competent writer leaves the room.

It’s not as fun/exciting/engaging as “Freelance Writing” sounds.

Again, I’m new, but so far it’s just anxiety and self-doubt.

Glamour level = zero.

But here’s the thing: despite what’s going on in my brain,

The results have been fine.

Faith in myself, flexibility, thicker skin, and persistence, I think will come with practice. Painful practice, but like running, maybe not painful every time or forever?

Blogging is easier because my sensitive soul avoids the scrutiny of others.

Papers are easier because I’ve been in school for 20 years.

But I think I’ll figure out this other stuff soon enough.

books
18 Apr 2012

a bad book joke

Q: What’s black and white and red all over?

A: Every book in my apartment.

life maintenance
16 Apr 2012

2012: week fifteen

April 8 – April 14

Busy? Super-busy? Crazy-busy? Manic? Completely insane?

All of the above, this week. All of the above.

My schedule has gone from pleasantly packed to over-stuffed and now we have landed at “I am embarrassed to tell people how much I am working.”

So I won’t tell you. But it’s a little insane.

Feeling less “stressed out” and more “completely obliterated.” And again, the mantra of the semester, all insanity will come quickly to an end. Four more weeks of madness. My finals are due a week from today, so three weeks of just running around and juggling jobs – no homework looming over everything. Then: a week off.

Blogging might be light in the meantime. If this week was a good model, my brain capacity is lacking.

Other news of import: remember my self imposed blogging break a few weeks ago? It worked. I got my first Real-Job interview for a job I really would love. Excited!!

P.S. All my cute dresses went out of stock. My life…

Reading:

  • Bouncing back and forth between two completely incongruous books
    • Tweak (which, for some reason, is making me really anxious to read this time around, and
    • The Ivy (which is completely silly – is Harvard really that much like high school?)

Watching:

  • I have been re-watching Shameless, which is SUCH an excellent show. Every character is this amazing actor who is also amazingly attractive, the storylines are equal part madcap and complete heartbreak, and yeah. Love it.

 

1
book reviews
14 Apr 2012

books i forgot to mention

The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt by Caroline Preston is a fun way to spend an afternoon. I love stories about college girls who attended women’s schools in the 1950s (see: Mona Lisa Smile); this was a fun, visual indulgence in the era.

Did you like Go Ask Alice? Do you want to read a book that is a deliberately identical book to Go Ask Alice, except with the Internet, prescription pills, and meth? Then you should read Lucy in the Sky. Relevant question: is it possible for a book written in 2011 to be considered “campy?”

I’m not usually a fan of historical fiction for young people because… well… they usually scream “HISTORICAL FICTION FOR YOUNG PEOPLE!” The protagonists are usually too passive, too observant, just watching history pass by. On that note, I really liked The Water Seeker, maybe because Holt gives some of the adult perspectives, too. Plus, I haven’t experienced an Oregon Trail narrative since my elementary school computer lab, so I found the story very interesting.

Jason Myers’s Dead End was one of the most tragically sad, graphically sexual YA books I’ve ever read. And I read a lot of sad, sexy books.

A really depressing porno, basically.

Sometimes I get mad at sci-fi/fantasy books for making me like them. Lish McBride’s Hold Me Closer, Necromancer is one such book. Stupid Sam and his stupid endearing nature. Also, I still kind of like necromancy. Beats vampires and werewolves, anyway…

goals
13 Apr 2012

happy marathon monday!

You guys, it’s almost Marathon Monday!

Here are some lazy and non-lazy fun things to do to celebrate Boston’s Running Holiday:

1. Watch Spirit of the Marathon

This is probably my favorite documentary, about four folks running the Chicago marathon. There is interesting information about the history of street racing and lots of that emotional sports-movie feeling where you hold your breath a lot and get nervous for no reason while people run toward the finish line.

2. Read some running blogs

A few years ago, I got kind of hooked on healthy living blogs, and for some reason almost every healthy living blogger is a long distance runner. They typically write a lot about different workouts, healthy foods, training schedules for this and that race, race re-caps, and  post a lot of pictures with cute workout clothes. Here are some of my favorites:

Emily from Sweat Once A Day is training for the Eugene Marathon.

Monica from Run, Eat, Repeat is training for the Pediatric Cancer Research Foundation Cinco de Mayo Half Marathon.

Tina from Carrots ‘N’ Cake is just doing a lot of Crossfit, but has run two marathons and posts a lot about running.

Ashley from (never)homemaker just had a baby and is still training for a half marathon anyway!

Gretchen from Honey, I Shrunk the Gretchen is training to run 3-4 mile legs of the Reach the Beach Relay.

3. Watch the Race!

If you live in Boston, that is. Which I do. Last year we came down early and saw the very first of the first runners pass by!

We will be watching this year from one of my favorite areas in Boston – Coolidge Corner.

There was a small crowd out when we arrived – families, visiting spectators, and college kids drinking beer at 10 a.m.

On my Dearest Former Roommate’s suggestion, stay away from the finish line at Copley. She worked at the Borders there a few years ago and thought it would be fun – no, people are passing out and throwing up all over the place! I’m worried it will be worse this year, as it may be up to 80 degrees on race day.

4. Drink a Gatorade

Yes, it’s full of high fructose corn-syrup, but who doesn’t love blue Gatorade? If you’ve never tried it, you probably don’t believe me; I didn’t until a high school boyfriend bought me one once… it’s strangely satisfying. But don’t try any other flavors. Go blue or go home.

If you live in Boston, you might also substitute this drink for a special Sam Adams 26.2 beer.

On tap only at bars located along the marathon route. We tried it last week,and I thought it was weird. But this could be because I knew it was brewed with salt, and ever since I had a terribly mixed margarita at a Red Lobster in 2007, I can’t stand the thought of a salty drink.

5. Go for a run

Before you drink too much, you should probably go for a run. If thousands of people can run 26.2 miles, you can surely run 1. Or 2. Or 3. Or 5. Or whatever.

I might force my boy into running down to Coolidge Corner to watch the race with me Monday morning – about 2 miles – but then I will be stuck wearing my decidedly not-cute size XL running shorts while I hang around and watch. I might be too vain for that…

 

 

books
12 Apr 2012

slow reading

First of all, thank you for bearing through my sappy-sappy last post and thank you for your kind comments! I have been trying to keep this blog marginally book focused, but A) I’m not sure I will ever lose my Personal Blogger tendencies and B) I am just a super sappy person. Sorry.

But now, I’d like to talk about books. As I’ve mentioned many MANY times before, I am on the brink of  a major shift in my reading landscape. I usually feel the reading itch this time during the semester, start fantasizing about all the books I’ve missed out on, all the books on my to-read list, all the books that are the complete opposite of everything I’ve been allowed to read… but because I am leaving school, this is feeling like a time for big changes.

A few weeks ago, the Internet was alive with inflammatory opinion pieces about reading. I’m not going to talk about Joel Stein because I cannot take anyone seriously whose argument is “YA books suck. I’ve never read any, but I’m sure they suck. Therefore, if you read them, you suck.”

Maura Kelly’s article in The Atlantic, though, really caught my attention. Her “Slow-Books Manifesto” urges enlightened readers to take their books like they take their food: “Read books. As often as you can. Mostly classics.” Eschew the processed, packaged, high-fructose corn syrup of books in favor of the grass-fed beef, the garden-fresh produce, the home-cooked meal.

This is a food analogy that I like. Actually, I kind of want to stop writing this blog and re-read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle instead.

But many YA book bloggers took offense to this article’s sentiment, arguably because they felt that much of YA – the books they read, promote, and enjoy – does not qualify under Kelly’s criteria for books worth a slow read. I agree that Kelly’s definition seems to be an arbitrary mix of The Western Canon + Contemporary Literary Tomes (Franzen, Gaitskill, etc). This is exactly the kind of Recommended Reading that has irritated readers and writers of “genre” fiction (romance, women’s, SFF, chick-lit, and YA alike) for years and years.

And Kelly’s arguments are a sorry lot. According to Kelly, classics alone “challenge us cognitively even as they entertain,” as if no other books have this capacity, as if some books can challenge the cognition of all people, innately. “Strong narratives help us develop empathy,” Kelly writes, indicating that she has likely never read a YA book in her life, never mind the question of what exactly *is* a “strong narrative”… the language she chooses throughout is so undefined and arbitrary, I begin to feel a little like I’m reading Joel Stein all over again.

But despite poor argumentation, I think that for me, as I move from a time of mandated reading, of 2-5 books on the syllabus each week, I could use a little slow reading.

There is something about trying to stay up to date with the YA scene that is simply wearying – so many books being published, and every other book is just SO good getting SO much buzz, you simply must read. And even if I pace myself, try to read some longer, denser books alongside quicker reads, I usually abandon the longer book. The lure of the new, the easy, the fun, is too much for me.

For me, it’s difficult to juggle a slower-read with other books. And y’all know how much I love to juggle books. A slow-read requires my full attention. And my competitive spirit that urges me to get to 100 books a year makes me feel lazy if I’m not “on pace.”

But here’s the catch. I think plenty of YA qualifies as Slow Read-worthy.


It took me months to get through Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief. I read a chapter and put it down. Read a chapter and put it down. This is a good book, a popular book, but was not easy for me to get through. And I’ve wanted to read Aidan Chambers’s This Is All for years now – it’s the intimate diary of a teen girl, which is something I like to read, and the format is innovative and interesting. But it’s an 800+ page tome; it doesn’t fit neatly into my purse so I can read on the bus. Even an intense voice can be daunting for me – I’ve checked out Daniel Handler’s Why We Broke Up twice now, but can’t get past the first few chapters because there is so much Min there – maybe this is the strong narrative Kelly was talking about? If you have ever picked up M.T. Anderson’s Octavian Nothing, you know exactly what I am talking about: I think this is one of the most brilliant books ever written, but it took me 3-4 readings to come to that conclusion, most of which occurred in 10 minute chunks because my brain couldn’t handle any more than that.

I might take the rest of the year and chill from the reading rat race. There are a lot of books on my shelf collecting dust that have been too intimidating to be read while juggling jobs, papers, and assigned reading; books that while maybe will not enhance my cognition any more than a shorter book, are still probably worth reading.  In a month I will have a chance to do something different, and I’m thinking about taking it slow.

 

 

1
lance romance
10 Apr 2012

this boy i love

A few weekends ago, I had the chance to attend a friend’s wedding shower. It was a pretty formal affair, thrown by her mother-in-law and full of the local cousins and aunts from his side of the family. Lots of skirts and lipstick, a plated lunch, and more booze than I typically drink while the sun is still up.

My friend and her fiance were all dolled up and gracious small-talkers and made the appropriate couple-y jokes while unwrapping gifts. They were comfortable in their fancy clothes, at their fancy lunch; much more comfortable than I could imagine myself being in their shoes.

But these were my friends; I could see through the act. Earlier in the week, while we stood wine tipsy in the park at Boston Common after dark, slipping on our flip-flops after an impromptu picnic, my friend was shocked and excited I was planning on attending the shower in the first place. “I’m so glad you’re coming!” she said. “I need you to sit next to me so we can make snarky comments and make fun of everything!” Earlier, her fiance got a bit huffy about being coerced into attending the event at all – it was a bridal shower. Why on earth would any Manly Man Man be seen at a bridal shower? My friend rolled her eyes. Her fiance balked and made a sarcastic comment. They both pulled on their sweatshirts and took the train home to their apartment in the North End, to walk the dog, to get ready for bed, to go to work in the morning.

They walked around the event room at the Marriott looking nothing but happy and grateful and composed. Their parents and families and relatives all saw a happy couple, getting ready for their wedding day, but only your friends know what their life, together, is really like.

But even then, your friends only know as much as you reveal – any relationship is so much more complex than any outsider can imagine. There are things that you hide, yes, there are things that stay behind closed doors, there are things you can only share with each other. You can smile and look happy. You can wear a three carat diamond, plan a lavish honeymoon, put on heels and sip champagne at 2 in the afternoon at the Marriott. But eventually you have to change back into your sweats and be with the person you love – and nobody knows exactly what that looks or feels like except you and the one you love.

More than eight  years ago, I fell in love. I fell in love for any and all the reasons that eighteen-year-olds fall in love with other eighteen-year-olds. Because he drove home for his birthday to see his mom. Because he ordered hot chocolate on our coffee dates. Because I liked the sound of his name. Because he laughed at my jokes and his friends liked me and he was a good kisser and we stayed up late every night talking about what movies we liked to watch when we were kids. We used to eat in the cafeteria together, go out on the weekends together, sleep in the same tangled-limb twin bed every night, together.

We didn’t look like that forever. We’ve looked like a lot of things, and for eight years I spent a lot of time thinking about what we looked like, to other people. When we were 19 and my shampoo and toothbrush lived in his apartment, I worried about what my parents would think if they could see my life, minute by minute, with him.  When we were 22 and we lived three hours apart, my family and friends were surely skeptical – we were adults now, in a long-term relationship… so why were we living with our parents? Why weren’t we starting our lives together? There must be something wrong. They must not be a good match. Their lives going in different directions. When we were 24 and we moved in together, unmarried, we were obviously sabotaging our future. When we were 26 and still without a plan, I think it became clear that we would just never be able to grow up.

But only your closest friends know what your life, together, is really like. Moving to Boston, I met so many friends who had just arrived to the city with relationships in tow – short relationships, long relationships, complex relationships, long distance relationships, marriages and engagements and everything in between. Smart, talented women, all placing substantial bets on the men they loved and the futures they’d chose.

And only you know what it’s like on the very inside of love.

There were times when our relationship looked different than what it looks like today. There were times when maybe we looked like we weren’t going to be together forever. Times I worried about it.

But in eight years, one thing has always been the same. Whether we were together or apart, happy or sad, I have always just plain enjoyed this boy, this boy I love. The future hasn’t always been clear, but I have always wanted to be happy with him. We’ve made bad choices, but we have always come back to being good because we just want to talk to each other. To laugh at each other’s jokes. To sit next to him the car while we drive somewhere – anywhere. To tell him about my day, even if last time we talked, I was mad at him for something. I always want to fix, to forget, to do whatever it takes to get back to being happy together.

It doesn’t matter what we look like from the outside, whether we are dolled up at our wedding shower or wearing last week’s dirty laundry, whether we are eighteen or twenty-seven.

I will always want to be eighteen or twenty-seven or one-hundred-and-seven together, happy, with him.

I am so happy that on February 14th, 2012, he asked me to marry him.

So happy that I said yes.

But from the very closest inside of my heart, I always knew.

 

 

6
weekly
09 Apr 2012

2012: week fourteen

April 1 – April 7

Graduation is just over a month away. I am doing a lot of graduation-related things – talking to my family about travel plans, ordering a cap and gown, trying to muster up some energy to send graduation announcements.

I want to buy a dress. I have a wedding the next weekend, too, so it would be nice to have something fresh to wear.

Buying a dress. This should be fun. I never buy clothes, especially not non-necessities (trying to find a decent black cardigan or pair of jeans isn’t exactly enthralling). But I have been looking ALL WEEKEND and apparently I have impossible specifications?

All I want is a dress that is

  • Longer than my knees (or at least longer than other people’s knees, which means it will be just right on me)
  • In stock in my size
  • In the 30-60 dollar range
  • Not black
  • More substantial than spaghetti straps or zero-straps

I’ve narrowed it down to the two orange selections above. I really like the blue, but alas, it is out of stock.

But now I can’t decide which one to buy… and have I even checked everywhere? I’ve scoured through Old Navy, Gap, Banana Republic, J Crew, Modcloth, eShakti… on Target’s website, I narrowed my search down and was left with six choices – three of which were Maternity dresses.

Agh. Shopping. You suck.

Reading:

Listening to:

  • Nothing by WTF with Marc Maron. Diablo Cody. Jeffrey Tambor. Paul Gilmartin (so awkward…) Weird Al.

Watching:

  • More LOST – on to Season 2!
  • Frasier (please don’t ask)
  • I finally watched Babies! Loved it.

 

3
book reviews
08 Apr 2012

37 Things I Love (in no particular order) by Kekla Magoon

Ellis has a lot of problem-people in her life – a mother who works midnight shifts as a radio host, a social-climbing best friend who parties too much, a male friend who is in love with a girl who won’t give him the time of day. But she does have one person in her life she can count on, who she can tell everything to, who will always be there for her – her dad, who has been in a coma for years and lives at a long-term care facility. 37 Things I Love (in no particular order) begins when Ellis learns that she might lose that silent presence in her life when her mother is talking about ending life support, and follows Ellis as she tries to fight this decision and learn to cope with tragedies beyond her control.

This is not the kind of book that I would usually pick up to read, but I was quite surprised with what I found. Magoon navigates deftly back and forth between fluffy, teen-y drama (my stupid drunk best friend! Agh!) to intense emotional turmoil (my dad is going to die…), often within a single page. Ellis’s denial, avoidance, sorrow, and rage is all there, but not in a hit-you-over-the-head-with-my-wavering-grasp-on-my-sanity way. It’s subtle. It’s complex. I also appreciated the mix between happy moments and sad – life, for Ellis, doesn’t stop when her father might die. She seems to have adapted to maintaining life even with a dull ache of grief behind her life at this point, and she continues to have triumphant moments, experience personal epiphanies and life-changing moments, and appreciate the people who give her joy – the 37 things she loves. This is a quick read, a fast ride, but the depth of character packed in is pretty amazing.