Random things

I just organized my fridge and it looks beautiful. My roommate, however, thinks I’m a nut. Did I mention that for some reason we don’t have the veggie drawer or shelves that go on the fridge door? The landlady can’t figure out why in the world they would be missing, but it sure takes away a lot of storage space!

Oh, I also bought 22 cans of vegetable BECAUSE they were on sale: 5/$4!!! Usually canned veggies are 2/$3 which I find absurd; $1.50 for a can? But this way they were just under a dollar a piece, so I went crazy: 5 corn, 5 carrots, 5 green beans, 5 mixed, and 2 BIG cans of peas which were 2/$3. I’m quite pleased with myself. They were heavy to carry home, though. Making sweet and sour stir fry tonight. My cinnamon bread last week was a big hit. Tonight will be meal . . . five? Six? that I’ve made for Frank. I quite enjoy cooking and that, thus far, he has loved everything I’ve made. Italian baked catfish, apple glazed chicken, Maui burgers, fiesta chicken, jambalaya, cookies and cinnamon bread, blueberry pie!, and maybe something else I’m forgetting. It surprises me how few girls my age actually know how to cook; I love it! I guess Frank is lucky — at least in that regard, haha.

Days are getting cooler here. The wind is savage today and kept almost knocking me over on my way home from the grocery. An elderly doorman at a hotel was hunched over in a weird position, holding the handle of a bay carrier, and explained to some passersby he was babysitting. It was pretty cute.

I got three cavities filled on Monday, and I go back for another two and some other check ups in a couple weeks. One of the cavities was on the possible-root canal tooth, and sure enough the cavity was right around the nerve. She went ahead and filled it and we’ll just wait and see if it acts up — could be weeks, months, years, or never. Even though it’s been a couple days, my teeth and jaw are still hurting quite severely, and an occasional tingling and numbness in my jaw means something is up with the nerves. It has me worried the back tooth is already reacting badly, but I’ll wait a few more days before I call my dentist; she had said it might hurt for a day or so.

Anyway, it’s already almost FIVE and I’ve gotten basically NOTHING done today except grocery shopping, so I’m going to go try and get some homework done. I hate feeling like I’ve wasted an entire day . . .

Farewell Loft.

I am now officially and entirely moved out of the Loft. And I’m strangely sad about it. Yes, it was MISERABLE to be in there this summer. Yes, I had to walk down the hall and use a seperate key for my bathroom. Yes, my window didn’t open. Yes, I had to cook sitting on the ground. Yes, the closet door didn’t open all the way and wasn’t big enough for my clothes. Yes, the shower hadno head and so sprayed your back with the force of God. Yes, my couch was uncomfortable and you couldn’t see the TV from it. Yes, one could hardly walk around in it. Yes, I had no privacy and lots of study and sleep interruptions because of the paperthin walls and Gary.

But I mean, it was warm and cozy in the winter. I got a LOT of writing done there, overheard a lot of funny conversations, and learned a LOT about living on my own.

Frank and I picked up a rented Honda CR-V at 8:30am and headed over. Unfortunately, parking had filled up FAST and we wound up having to park about half a block down and across a street. This made loading up the car a PAIN. It was a much harder packing job than yesterday because it was a few really big things and then a lot of loose things. Frank is so NOT a morning person (I had NO idea how not a morning person he is until today, haha, but he is scary! ) and the grumpier people around me are, the more cheerier I feel I have to be. Anyway, we were almost done when my landlord (the good one that I like; I’ve written about him before) offered that if I could be out soon, he would “throw four Brazilians up there and let them at it.” I’m supposed to leave my apartment “broom clean” and so was going to have to venture back there tonight to clean everything up. He saved me time and effort, though, and it was highly appreciated.

However, this added a good deal of chaos to what was already chaos, because now i had to make sure I had EVERYTHING, instead of having the security of checking again in the evening when things were slower. I think we got everything, though, and then I turned over my keys and rushed us back to Frank’s so we could once again move EVERYTHING into his basement. PAIN.

It all worked out, thoguh, and what this taught me is that it’s worth it to hire movers, haha. So instead of having to move EVERYTHING again on Tuesday — which I honestly think would kill me, especially because I know also have some furniture that needs to be moved that I”m not strong enoguh to pick up, much less carry up two flights of stairs — I have hired a moving company for $300. That’s a LOT of money for me, but also possibly some of the best money I’ll have ever spent. I’ll need to repack a couple things tomorrow because the fragile boxes are poorly packed, two boxes are breaking, adn there are a lot of open boxes . . . but I’m still very relieved that my part in this whole process is almost over. At least I don’t have to do the actual moving part myself; just some little odds and ends.

In the meantime, I am homeless/staying at Frank’s place. We moved this morning, then slept ALL day, haha, then went to Harvard Square to walk around, listen to some street performers, buy his texts books and some European chocolates, and now I’m waiting for the dinner I cooked to be done. After the stressful move this morning, I realized it’s the 30th, which means it’s our 5-month anniversary. Happy anniversary! Now help me move, lol.

Anyway, farewell to the loft. I’m super excited about the new place, and I think it’s going to be a wonderful year with two of my best girls. The loft was a good first apartment experience for me, but my new bedroom along is about the same size as the entire loft, haha. So while I’m a bit sad to have said goodbye to the loft in such haste this morning (we only had the car for 2.5 hours so we had to hoof it), I’m also very excited to be moving (literally) onto BIGGER (literally) and better things.

Also, big thanks to Fidan for holding onto a cart for me that simply WOULD NOT fit into the car, and HUGE thanks to Frank for helping me move heavy boxes. Welcome to the perks of being a boyfriend, haha.

Farewell, sweet loft. May you serve your next resident as . . . interestingly . . . as you did me.

Hurray!

So a few months ago, me and Frank had a conversation that went something like this.

Me: I wish you could register for new apartments, instead of getting married. I don’t want to wait until I’m getting married to get all of the stuff that I need now.
Frank: *playing video games probably; said nothing*
Me: Like a toaster. I need a toaster now, but I don’t want to BUY one if someone will GIVE me one when I’m getting married.
Frank: *continues playing video games*
Me: But what if I never get married, and I die without a toaster?
Frank: Why don’t you just buy one?
Me: No, someone else is supposed to give me one!
Frank: Well if it’s that big a deal, I’ll get you one for Christmas.
Me: Is this your way of telling me you’re never going to marry me?
Frank: . . .

Then yesterday we are in CVS and Frank comes wandering over with a toaster.
Me: What is that?
Frank: A toaster. I’m buying it for you.
Me: Why?
Frank: So you can eat bagels at home.
Me: Oh. Thank you. You’re still going to have to marry me someday, though.

And now I present to you, MY TOASTER:

Okay, the bagels are a bit crunchy. I guess it’s a super-powered toaster and putting it on a level 2 is a bit much. Imagine what a 9 would do! But there’s even a special bagel BUTTON, so that my pieces-of-bread-I-use-as-hot-dog-buns are their own thing apart from my bagels.

Random things

Being back in Boston is wonderful — except for the missing Texas, family, and friends part. But the weather is much better, it’s good to be back with the boyfriend, and I’m actually being quite productive.

Last weekend had two daytime adventures. Saturday took Frank to the haymarket, which he had apparently never been to before. If you lovely readers will remember, it’s a giant open air farmer’s market that sells everything from fish to veggies to cheese. For someone who loves food and enjoys spending money impulsively — Frank in a nutshell — it is excellent because prices are ridiculously low. This time our purchases included pineapples for .50, grapes for .99, and four pounds of broccolli for two dollars. It’s made Frank’s and my attempt to eat healthy a BIT better — though other “bad” foods keep somehow slipping in.

Sunday Frank, me, and Richard went to the aquarium which none of us had been to before. Richard had never seen penguins in real life before. I was quite impressed with Frank’s retained knowledge from his fish studies class at Harvard (kay, I don’t remember the actual course name); he served as sort of our personal guide and was able to give us a lot more information than was on the plaques. The aquarium was definitely smaller than Corpus Christi or Monterrey, but I mean, even a bad aquarium is fun, and it wasn’t bad.

This week I have mainly been getting some writing and odd errands done. Not having internet at the apartment severely limits what I do doing the day (I’ve decided not to turn my internet on this month; it’ll save my $65!) but I’m still managing to be productive, and it means I budget my internet time much better. We’ve watched a bunch of movies, gone out a couple of times, but overall pretty lowkey.

Interesting talent alert!: So it is a joke about how I will eat food until right up to the point at which it will kill me. I cut the mold off of cheese or bread, gouge out the mushy parts of fruit, etc. But one thing I DO NOT budge on is milk. If milk smells the slightest bit off, I say no. I have had no many episodes of taking a big gulp of milk that I thought would be fine only to run my tongue along the carpet to get the stale milk taste off.

Well Frank has apparently taken note of this talent, and I am now the high judge of food. If he can’t decide whether it’s good or bad, he brings it to me and says, “Smell.” This all started the other day when, after baking a chocolate cake (I said we were TRYING to eat healthier), he poured us a glass of milk. After downing half the glass in one gulp, he held it out to me and asked, “Does this taste funny?” Sure enough, it was three days past expiration day and WAY funny tasting. Ick. The smell was revolting.

Anyway, that’s all the news for now. I’m procrastinating actually sending anything in to be published, which is what I’m actually supposed to be up to these days. Send good luck, concentration, peppy, and focus vibes my way, please! I have a fiction and a nonfiction piece both ready for submission, a couple poems I might submit, and a couple of fiction pieces that need some reworking but will soon be ready. Oh, and those two ten-minute plays can be submitting, and a one-act that is almost ready. Also, I’ve realized that a full-length play I started a year ago, which I’m a third finished with, would probably do well either as my BFA thesis or publication. So definitely lots of projects to be working on.

what an idiot

Flew back to Texas today.  That in and of itself was uneventful, however this evening, as my stepdad was driving home from work, he was rearended.  Twice.  By a middle-aged man who decided approaching a stoplight was an excellent time to open and begin perusing the contents of a manilla folder.  So he rearended my stepdad twice, then dashed off — a clear hit and run.

Jerry wound up going to the hospital (he’s mostly okay) and filed a police report, of course. 

Here’s the real kicker, though.  The other man, guilty of a hit-and-run, left his license plate embedded in the bumper of my stepdad’s car.  Seriously.  Darwin award, anyone?

In other news, I need a job.

earthfest and misc.

Saturday took Frank and Curtis with me to meet up with some friends (Stef, Jessye, and Sarah, plus a few) at Earthfest, a big free concert put on by Whole Foods and some radio station by the Charles River.  We got there pretty late but still got to enjoy some overpriced crummy carnival food (fried dough? ew) and dance to some cool tunes, haha.  I’ve actually always wanted to go to the summer concerts that Boston frequently has there, and hopefully I’ll go to a few more during my trips back here within the next two months, or once I’m back in August.

In other news, I’m headed back to Texas on Monday.  I’m actually quite excited about being home and seeing my Texas friends and not having to deal with public transportation EXCEPT that I’ll miss the few friends that I still have here in Boston quite terribly.    I hate having two homes and only being able to be in one at a time.

I know I haven’t caught up with my Ireland entries yet.  This week I will, alongside job hunting, as well as scanning in my polaroid shots.  I’ve taken some super cute photos.

Saw Up last night, the new Pixar movie.  I definitely recommend it.  I cried probably four times, haha; it’s an adorable and endearing movie.

Also made another blueberry pie for the boys, per Frank’s request.  Unfortunately, I had an hour in which to construct and cook it, and my blueberries were frozen.  Instead of being a normal intelligent person and defrosting them with like a microwave or something, I used the heat from the oven, which means they were still quite chilled when I put the pie in.  I forgot about the fact that while frozen, they have a LOT of juice which I drained last time, to keep the pie from being too runny.  So, go figure, the pie is really more of . . . a blueberry soup with some crust.  Frank and Richard have both very kindly insisted it’s perfectly fine and that they love blueberry soup as muh as they love blueberry pie, and both ate heaping plates (should have been in bowls . . . ) in front of me.  Boyfriend and boyfriend’sbrother win, haha.  I didn’t cry because my first pie for them was darn near perfect, but it still was a baking failure, and those are never fun.

Really wish I had a scanner and already could post my polaroids, but since I don’t, I’ll settle for these two photos Jessye took of me at earthfest with a D80.  A D80!  She checked it out from our school for her summer digital imaging class, which means I’ll have access to it when I take digital imaging in the fall.  Hurray!!

That’s me and Stef listening to the music.

And that’s me and Frank.

Have I mentioned my friend Jessye is an awesome photographer?  You may have seen the portraits she did of me for her photo project about a year and a half ago, as well as a couple portraits she took of me while we were in Europe.  She definitely knows how to make me look good in a photo.

DEATH

accidentally went on a six-hour hike today.  Granted, it was along the Howth coast and absolutely BEAUTIFUL (for roughly half of it, then there was some forest, then some windy fields, then some random scrubby areas, and then across a GOLF COURSE where I got scolded by two haggish old women), but once the beautiful part was over, I still had a 2.5 hour hike back inland, and I seriously, truly, honestly, with everything in me thought I was going to lay down and die.  I started verbalizing my will and was going to make a video of it (I didn’t have the energy to write) so that when my dead body was found, so would it.  Did I mention that all I ate prior to my hike was two pieces of toast with butter?  BAD.  It was BAD.  If I had known how much worse it would get while still hiking up and down and up and down and up along the cliffs along the sea, I probably would have thrown myself off to be dashed against the rocks.  That’s much more romantic than collapsing in an overgrown field and my decaying corpse getting eaten by bumblebees the size of my FACE.

And btw, whoever Fingal County (trust me, Final County, I also rehearsed a charming letter for YOU about your “follow the white stone path” sign which was actually NOT referring to the path made of white stones directly in front of the sign [which led me into the pathway of golf balls, and thus resulted in the rude lecture from old ladies] but rather a helter-skelter line DIRECTLY across the golf course marked by occasional spray-painted bricks, pieces of wood, of patches of concrete that you can’t see until you are on top of them) hired to figure out their trail times is functioning on a different minute than the rest of their world.  Because from the point where it said “1 hour and 45 minutes to trailhead” TO the actual trailhead, it definitely took me almost three hours.  And I am a big time hiker/walker with legs of steal.  The two little girls hiking behind me fell behind.  And I won’t be surprised if they are never heard from again. 

Alas, I did survive, and am now back at the hostel, resting my weary feet.  I SHOULD go out and do something else tonight with my last few hours in Dublin . . . but my body hurts and Dublin’s really not very impressive of a city anyway. 

In other news, off to Belfast tomorrow, and on Friday I booked a tour (oh my gosh, yes, *I* am taking a tour, I who hate tours with all that is in me; but I have to do it if I want to see Carrickfergus Castle, the Rope Bridge, and the Giant’s Causeway, which are all 1.5 hours outside of Belfast). 

But seriously, aside from fearing death and contemplating death and wishing for death so the pain/hike would end, the Irish coast really is beautiful.  Very romantic.  Definitely preferred the little fishing town of Howth to big city Dublin, but that really isn’t surprising; I tend to prefer smaller towns while traveling to big globalizing cities. 

On another note, because I”m on a roll and doing a pretty long blog entry right now, there are TONS of redheads here.  Like, tons.  I thought it was a stereotype.  All this time I’ve been all smarty-pants, telling people “Actually, Irish tend to be dark-haired; there are more redheads in Scotland.”  Maybe there are, maybe there aren’t, but there are definitely many, many natural redheads here.  Especially children.  Judging by families, it looks like lots of kids are born redheads and then their hair turns darker when puberty hits.  But still, my hair plus the fact that I’m carrying a purse instead of a backpack means a lot of people keep thinking I’m a local and then are severely disappointed when I start speaking. 

Also, Howth is a fishing village, and I got to walk around the pier and along this seawall thing, where the wind almost blew me into the water.  And seafoam kept flying up and drifting and then landing, all congealed, on the sidewalk.  I didn’t realize seafoam congealed like that.  But then it just makes me think of the Little Mermaid (the REAL one, by Hans Christian Anderson, not the happy Disney movie), and so I was afraid to touch it. 

ALSO, interesting observation: not many dogs here.  There are some; I saw some in Howth.  But as for Dublin, hardly any at all.  Very unlike England and mainland Europe where there are dogs EVERYWHERE.  Possibly because there aren’t many parks in Dublin; I suppose if I chilled by St. Stephen’s Green longer I’d probably see more.

Okay, naptime.  Geez, 7pm already?!

o’hare

Currently 11:35pm.  Flight to Dublin is at 7:10.  Have been here since 10:30am.  Just ate an early, early lunch that  I didn’t even really want because I was momentarily so overwhelmed by O’Hare and frustrated about not knowing what terminal my flight is out of to set up camp, and just needing a place to sit down.  A $2.99 glass of iced tea, though?  You’ve got to be kidding me.

Money troubles escalated until Frank just had me write him a check and gave me cash, thereby serving as my own personal . . . erm . . . check casher.  We then rode the subway together for four stops, he on his way to work, me on my way to the airport.  When we got close, I cried like a little girl.  He got out, then ran with the subway for a couple seconds as I moved off, looking like a fool but making me extremely happy.  This boyfriend is continuous amounts of win. 

Flight from Boston to O’Hare was uneventful.  2.5 hours, and I slept uncomfortably pretty much the entire time.  Super chatty guy beside me whom I chatted with as we took a three-mile taxi to the termimal (seriously, I thought they were driving me to Ireland). 

Now . . . I have a hell of a lot of time to kill.  What to do?  I’ll go exchange currency.  Then I guess get a bottle of water and set up camp at my gate, or wherever nearby I have a plug.  It’s been over a year since I’ve been in a place of transit for this long.  Oh, and thanks to Blake for pointing out that my layover is actually about the same amount of time as both my flights combined.  Grrrreat.

So, off to do nothing!

thought y’all might care

I splashed drain cleaner onto my face today and it burned me.  It’s not going to scar or anything, but enough that it hurt like hell and I was scolded into standing with my face under the faucet for ten minutes, snorting water. 

In further news, suggestions on best way for me to bleach my skirt without a washing machine?  I was going to do it in the sink but a.) my bathroom is VERY poorly ventilated and b.) same scolder lectured me about how then I would have to scrub down my sink because I wash my dishes there.  Bath tub? 

I am droooooooooowning in finals but eh, what’s new.  Next week is the last week of classes and then a week of finals and then dunzo, thank GOODNESS.

Avoided the Boston marathon this past weekend by chilling in Cambridge the entire time.  Even had a slumber party with Diana.  I just . . . Newbury St. on a normal weekend with tourists is bad enough but there were like a thousand extra people.  The city was crawling with them.  Tourist infestation.  That you aren’t allowed to step on.  Though I did vocally growl at two.  If you roar like a lion “RAWR” at idiots on the sidewalk, they aren’t offended, they are just severely confused and get out of your way.  True story, it works.

I am a cranky old lady at 21.  I’m just going to go back to my crumpets and knitting and hair rollers and rose perfume. 

. . . . actually I have to go read about Darfur and write a paper.  And it’s 1:12 AM.  And I also meant to get my American Drama paper written tonight and did NOT, but I can’t write it tomorrow because I will be in the dark room all day and then have some homework for Thursday’s classes. 

Mom is coming to visit Sunday.  I hope you do not expect a spic-and-span clean apartment.  I will tidy.  That is all I have the spirit for.

EDIT: The scolder has yelled at me for the bathtub suggestion.  He wants to know if I want to kill myself.  No, I just want my skirt and my tank tops that I spilled coffee all over to be white again.

scary

I just bought the 2009 Publishing Guide book thing to begin my journey into the world of publication, since I have several pieces I’m ready to start submitting.

I guess I’m just tired of making excuses for not submitting my work.  Work, school, time, not good enough, not old enough,don’t know enough, too much to learn.  I’m just ready to start seeing my name in print.

Still, it’s scary.

Also, I’m sitting on a bench in the hall at school beside a girl who is snuffling her nose incessantly and it is about to send me on a tristate killing spree.  I kid you not.  I may be writing my next post from jail.