Last night I had an apocalyptic dream, and in that dream I was drunk.
NOTE: This post wasn't meant to be cryptic; I dreamt it was the end of the world, and on an unrelated note, I was drunk in the dream.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Good Things to Come
Figure 1: I wrote this note to a friend in Epidemiology. I believe it is representative to how the rest of my semester will go. Cheers!Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Coffee Stains
aka things that seemed like a good idea at the time
aka maybe I do have some cognitive deficits
Despite the fact that I have zero words so far of my psych paper, I already have a title:
Please Don't Burn after Reading: Pyromania in the Adolescent Population.
Ha ha. aren't I clever.
Right now I am drinking an ice cold cup of jet fuel. Last night, I filled a bowl with water, microwaved it, dumped in some instant coffee, allowed to cool, and then poured it all into an empty milk container, and popped it into the fridge.
See, I remember this working much better last year. Here is what happened last night:
Figure 1: Yeah, that's a bowl of coffee spilled all over the floor. I see no problem with this situation.
aka maybe I do have some cognitive deficits
Despite the fact that I have zero words so far of my psych paper, I already have a title:
Please Don't Burn after Reading: Pyromania in the Adolescent Population.
Ha ha. aren't I clever.
Right now I am drinking an ice cold cup of jet fuel. Last night, I filled a bowl with water, microwaved it, dumped in some instant coffee, allowed to cool, and then poured it all into an empty milk container, and popped it into the fridge.
See, I remember this working much better last year. Here is what happened last night:
Figure 1: Yeah, that's a bowl of coffee spilled all over the floor. I see no problem with this situation.
As I got down on my hands and knees and tried to sop up roughly 8 oz of coffee, I reminded myself that hey, it's okay, it's not like I have one of those Pyrex measuring cups with the spouts...
shit.
You guessed it. We do have one. It's Alana's, and something tells me she wouldn't have minded if I had borrowed it.
Similar to solving the issue of "How do you get from the airport without any money?" my reasoning, once again, made very little sense and caused the biggest mess.
Oh well, I'd do anything for you, dear coffee.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Two weeks, and then what?
How do you properly say goodbye to an entire city?
If you know the answer to that, give me a heads up, because I am curious. I have exactly two weeks to say goodbye to Boston. Although I knew for months that moving back to New York this May would probably be indefinite, this week I got my acceptance to Hunter, and my dad lost his job. So it’s official; sorry Boston, despite your lovely brownstones and excellent restaurants, I can’t stay any longer.
Saying goodbye to individuals will be its own challenge. I assume it will be something like graduating high school, except I will be the only one scared and anxious about what the next few months hold for me, while everyone else will still be settled here. I think I wrote an article about saying goodbye to friends in my high school newspaper, but I honestly don’t really remember anymore. I’ll leave this topic alone now.
Back to saying goodbye to a physical place, though. At this point, I think saying goodbye to Boston will be harder than saying goodbye to individuals. The friends who I want to stay in contact with will be just a phone call away; the lifestyle I had here, on the other hand, will be a thing of the past.
Part of me wants to try and cram in whatever I missed in the last two years (albeit, it’s not much.) In two years I feel as though I’ve seen all that Boston has to offer. I could make a trip over to the aquarium, but I suppose that defeats the purpose of saying goodbye; I don’t have a sentimental attachment to places I have never seen before.
Earlier this evening, I sat alone on the top of the grassy divide between Storrow Drive and the BU beach. I faced the river during sunset and worked on a paper. I watched the runners along the Charles, and I realized that this was what goodbyes were about.
If you know the answer to that, give me a heads up, because I am curious. I have exactly two weeks to say goodbye to Boston. Although I knew for months that moving back to New York this May would probably be indefinite, this week I got my acceptance to Hunter, and my dad lost his job. So it’s official; sorry Boston, despite your lovely brownstones and excellent restaurants, I can’t stay any longer.
Saying goodbye to individuals will be its own challenge. I assume it will be something like graduating high school, except I will be the only one scared and anxious about what the next few months hold for me, while everyone else will still be settled here. I think I wrote an article about saying goodbye to friends in my high school newspaper, but I honestly don’t really remember anymore. I’ll leave this topic alone now.
Back to saying goodbye to a physical place, though. At this point, I think saying goodbye to Boston will be harder than saying goodbye to individuals. The friends who I want to stay in contact with will be just a phone call away; the lifestyle I had here, on the other hand, will be a thing of the past.
Part of me wants to try and cram in whatever I missed in the last two years (albeit, it’s not much.) In two years I feel as though I’ve seen all that Boston has to offer. I could make a trip over to the aquarium, but I suppose that defeats the purpose of saying goodbye; I don’t have a sentimental attachment to places I have never seen before.
Earlier this evening, I sat alone on the top of the grassy divide between Storrow Drive and the BU beach. I faced the river during sunset and worked on a paper. I watched the runners along the Charles, and I realized that this was what goodbyes were about.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Shame
So this morning I awoke at 6:20 to get in some last minute studying for an exam at 8. I studied for about a half hour in the vestibule before the caffeine craving became too much. I got dressed, and by 7:10 I headed to Starbucks for my morning fix. I was ready to get my Sargent muffin and a sugar-free soy vanilla latte (I know, it's a bitch drink. Even I need a break from the classy Maxwell House every once in a while.) I march into SMG, my head happy that it will be getting its caffeine, and the Starbucks is dark.
I see the employees roaming around, but then I took note of the sign on the door. Mon-Fri: 7:30AM.
WHAT?!?
After my initial panic, I was ashamed. I felt like I had been told I had enough by the bartender, or no more crack by my crack dealer (not really.)
I finally got my drink, and ala GSU style, it was the wrong order. I took it, though, grateful for anything caffeinated, when I quickly realized that whatever this drink was, it was a double-shot.
Hmm...no complaints there.
Figure 1: I took this picture last year while I was trying to figure out how to adjust my flash. I love you Maxwell House!
I see the employees roaming around, but then I took note of the sign on the door. Mon-Fri: 7:30AM.
WHAT?!?
After my initial panic, I was ashamed. I felt like I had been told I had enough by the bartender, or no more crack by my crack dealer (not really.)
I finally got my drink, and ala GSU style, it was the wrong order. I took it, though, grateful for anything caffeinated, when I quickly realized that whatever this drink was, it was a double-shot.
Hmm...no complaints there.
Figure 1: I took this picture last year while I was trying to figure out how to adjust my flash. I love you Maxwell House!
Monday, April 20, 2009
It's Marathon Monday!
...and I'm doing orgo hw.
I went to the marathon last year, and it was quite fun. We walked around, watched people cross the finish line, and laid around in the park. I'm so behind on work from the last few weeks that I'm just staying in and doing practice problems and working on papers.
I feel a bit melancholy as the year draws to a close. I've lived in Boston for almost two years, and I have loved it for the most part, but once I go home this May, that is probably it. And it's okay, too. As much as I have loved the independence, the food, and the late nights, all in all, Boston hasn't been great for me in the areas that matter a little bit more, which is my academic career. Sometimes I wonder if I had gone to another college what would have happened these past years; would I have had great grades and still been on the path to becoming a doctor? Would I have had great grades at the sacrifice of a social life? Would I have been miserable? Happier? In a relationship? I don't torture myself with this, but I can't help but think about these things from time to time.
The spring semester hasn't been great here. I've had some fun, and there have been some great moments, but I feel as though it is easier to leave now than it would have been this time last year when I felt like things were just getting going. I can appreciate my home life more for what it is; I could end up sacrificing some of my social life to go home, but at least I can rest assured that the people I surround myself with at home are genuine, loyal, and actually care about me. I've started to see my life up here for what it really is, and even though things are still okay, I feel like maybe I'm jumping ship just before things really turn sour.
So a bit of a pensive post for today, but everything is okay. I wanted to make a post about my experiences on Thursday night, but most of the stories are so inappropriate that I didn't want to post them, because they will lose some of their charm when I take out the offensive phrases. We can talk about them in person--I promise, the stories are kind of funny. To start, I was put in a man's gown. It was all down hill from there.
I went to the marathon last year, and it was quite fun. We walked around, watched people cross the finish line, and laid around in the park. I'm so behind on work from the last few weeks that I'm just staying in and doing practice problems and working on papers.
I feel a bit melancholy as the year draws to a close. I've lived in Boston for almost two years, and I have loved it for the most part, but once I go home this May, that is probably it. And it's okay, too. As much as I have loved the independence, the food, and the late nights, all in all, Boston hasn't been great for me in the areas that matter a little bit more, which is my academic career. Sometimes I wonder if I had gone to another college what would have happened these past years; would I have had great grades and still been on the path to becoming a doctor? Would I have had great grades at the sacrifice of a social life? Would I have been miserable? Happier? In a relationship? I don't torture myself with this, but I can't help but think about these things from time to time.
The spring semester hasn't been great here. I've had some fun, and there have been some great moments, but I feel as though it is easier to leave now than it would have been this time last year when I felt like things were just getting going. I can appreciate my home life more for what it is; I could end up sacrificing some of my social life to go home, but at least I can rest assured that the people I surround myself with at home are genuine, loyal, and actually care about me. I've started to see my life up here for what it really is, and even though things are still okay, I feel like maybe I'm jumping ship just before things really turn sour.
So a bit of a pensive post for today, but everything is okay. I wanted to make a post about my experiences on Thursday night, but most of the stories are so inappropriate that I didn't want to post them, because they will lose some of their charm when I take out the offensive phrases. We can talk about them in person--I promise, the stories are kind of funny. To start, I was put in a man's gown. It was all down hill from there.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I owe this to you
Because I am in love with each and every one of my readers, I owe this to you. These are photos of a project I did in kindergarten. This construction paper booklet has not been touched since 1994, when yours truly added the illustrations. Enjoy.
Figure 1: The cover
Figure 2: My mother had to speak to the teacher over this. The teacher her asked my mom if she saw why this was a problem; My mother's response: "No."
Figure 1: The cover
Figure 2: My mother had to speak to the teacher over this. The teacher her asked my mom if she saw why this was a problem; My mother's response: "No."
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