tahiti bound?

So today I had my first sailing lesson ever and managed to not tip the boat once. It was pretty awesome. After untying a million and a quarter knots and retying a million more, I got the sail up and me and my instructor went out into the harbor. I got to steer with the tiller and learned some new nautical terms to impress my friends back home. :) I loved it so much I signed up for another free lesson on Wednesday and if I pass a test, I get to take the sailboat out all by myself! Rock on.

H.

up close.

Rain on my windowpane and leaking through my ceiling. Literally.

My first nor'easter blew into town this weekend, so we decided to go to the Museum of Fine Arts and look at Monets and Van Goghs and mummies and plates. I saw "Waterlilies" from three inches away. It was...alright. After that me and Meredith took the green line to Guitar Center and jammed out on her electric cello, some guitars, and a banjo. Than we had some more fun times. Today was rainy so we went back to guitar world and attempted to jam and our surrogate parents at the fancy farmhouse are sick so we have to wait till next week for our four-course meal. So tired. Sailing lessons tomorrow!

H.

*

The most fascinating transformation I've ever seen:
(Part 1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByyC4tMoICg&feature=related
(Part 2) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTG8uC8vnDs&feature=related
(Part 3) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iklAmZ5yk4Y&feature=related
(Part 4) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5RdGMve-TY&feature=related
(Part 5) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gnmgks79i04&feature=related
(Part 6) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBivBFiTpV0&feature=related
(Part 7) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9gDuBSrzA0&feature=related
(Part 8) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1V4sgNyfgfU&feature=related
(Part 9) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLPamrFZ7Fk&feature=related...
No one will have time to watch this all, but at least I can find the links easily.

H.

"I like bracchiosaurus. They remind me of peace." --my partner in crime

Here's a fun picture from my travels in Arizona.

H.

Que?!

The candidates are full of BULLSHIT. Whoever gets into office will raise taxes. Period. The problem with this country is that our "leaders" are all reactive. No one has enough balls to be proactive and provocative. Some may think that Obama's "change" might be part of a new era, but somehow I can't get over that it's all talk. It's easy to fall for someone who is a flowery orator. And McCain will continue the direction of the Republicans. You have to sell your soul to go into politics. We're screwed. But I'm not going to be cynical because my life will continue on the same as usual.

H.

P.S. My wind farm stocks based out of Copenhagen took a big hit today. Damn this!

Bing Crosby dreams

Three months till Christmas. Today I realized this will probably be the best Christmas ever, cause for the first time in my life, I'll be coming home for Christmas! :) I miss my family.

H.

Go it alone.

I've just now realized that my life of late has been all about leaving people. I left the people at home that I cared about and in three months I will be leaving the people here I have become friends with. Am I destined to be a wanderer all my life? Its not that I want to leave people, its just that nobody else is willing to follow. And I can't just stay in one place forever and I don't understand people who do, and this is coming from a total homebody who loves nothing more than sitting on the couch and listening to the rain with the lights off. But I don't mean to leave anyone behind and I promise I will never be gone too long. I just feel guilty sometimes that I am being selfish for going off on these trips/adventures and not sticking around.

H.

Suzy Sunshine

Gail claims my last blog was too morbid (I prefer "insightful") so here's a happy picture I took when I arrived in town.

Butterflies and rainbows...H.

You're not on the list Mr. Rather.

Unfortunately, I did not get to add Dan Rather to the list of prominent people who I have shaken hands with (Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Robert Ballard-"Titanic guy", Ken Burns-"insert joke here", and Doris Goodwin Kearns), BUT I was within 50 feet from him and he seemed like a very endearing man. To make up for my disappointment, I ate three spiced salmon sandwiches at the reception next door at Boston University, which pretty much made my evening.

On the way home on the T (where, in my opinion, I do my best thinking), I started thinking about the bizarre correlation between rock stars and plane crashes and just how many times these two things have crossed paths. Think about it: Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper; everyone knows about them. But after doing some scholarly research on Google, here are some of the most (in)famous victims:
Patsy Cline
Otis Redding
Glenn Miller
Lynyrd Skynyrd (select members only)
Jim Croce
John Denver
Stevie Ray Vaughn

There's just something bizarre about the whole thing. Maybe it's the concept of dying young and full of talent in a fiery crash on a dark night with rock music blaring from the smouldering woods as if it were a movie. I don't know where I'm going with this. Maybe it's the appeal of going out with a bang. Literally.

H.

updates. stat!

Quick health update for all my parental figures:
TB results: negative
Eye abrasion/white spot: shrinking, but I still can't wear my left lens for three weeks (which is unfortunate because my depth perception is off and I'm getting smacked in the face by low branches everywhere.)

H.

Home cookin'

I'm writing this from a VERY fancy farmhouse in semi-rural Massachusetts built in the 1860s. Tonight, Meredith and I went to one of her classmates house to give her a cello lesson. The classmate is in her early 50s and lives out in the burbs. We took the green line pretty much to the end and she picked us up and drove us through these beautiful towns with mansions and golf courses everywhere. She decided it was too important to pass up, so she took us on a driving tour through Wellesley College. What we didn't know was that she was going to cook us a four course meal with a full chicken (not strips like at my house), salad, potatoes, brownies with ice cream and wine! Whoa. Plus, her husband Tom worked with Woodward and Bernstein (Watergate journalists) at the Washington Post back in the day!! I should explain that they are my vocational heroes. Tom took us through a tour of the fruit farm behind their house and all the tree frogs were buzzing and Gertrude, the grandma, showed us her cute old lady watercolor portraits. I could get used to this. Hopefully she wants another lesson next week. It's nice to be in a place that reminds you of home (if the median income was $45,000).

For once, a stuffed H.

Characters.

So there's this guy on my street who asks for change everyday, but he doesn't just ask; he sings. And his favorite melody is the standard "Does any-body have any change?" However, he occasionally switches it up and sings "Vote for Obama" which is done so endearingly that not even I am annoyed. But the funniest part is he will select random people on the street and say: "If you're 5 foot 8, vote for Obama" or "If you're eating a 7-11 hoagie, vote for Obama." It is too funny. Yesterday Meredith, Karina, and I decided to walk into Sacks Fifth Avenue and try on $460 sunglasses. $460! Immediately a salesman came over and questioned us. After spending the day exploring, we decided to go to the classiest restaurant on Boylston: BK! Some crazy (not for his theories but because he was lecturing with a cheeseburger in his hand) 9/11 conspiracy guy came in and started to talk to everyone who was in line for Whoppers. After enjoying our meal and lecture, we decided to go across the street to Copley Plaza. There was a homeless guy lying on the ground and stumbling to get up. Some people walked over to him and called 911 because he was bleeding from his head all over the sidewalk, but when the paramedics arrived, they searched everywhere with flashlights and couldn't find him. We walked around the block to check it out and Meredith ended up stepping in his bloody puddle. Sick.

It's never boring.

H.

mean what you say and say what you mean. no bs.

I've decided my favorite kind of people are the kind who can use the term "wonderful" when describing something and sound like they genuinely mean it.

H.

Saga. To be continued...

Today I had to get a PPD test...for tuberculosis!?! wtf. Anyway, just an update for my always faithful reader (Gail), about two weeks ago I noticed a white, milky dot on my iris and it's been irritating my eye since then so I went to student health services. They did not know what it was so they referred me to the Boston Medical Center's walk in clinic. So after riding the bus to a relatively questionable neighborhood, (all with only one contact in), I managed to find the place but got lost looking for the right building. Finally after a half hour of waiting in a room with several people who curiously were missing the same arm, I got in to see a real eye doctor who proceeded to poke and stab my eye and shine intense, heavenly lights in it till I couldn't stand it. Her diagnosis: an abrasion on the cornea. So she gave me a prescription and told me to come back tomorrow and after going to the pharmacy and dropping it off, I had to wait an hour for it to be filled. Where did I wait you ask?? Well, if you said on a bench outside the ER (with the candlestick), you know me too well...What an hour that was. Countless ambulances pulled up with gun shot victims and other victims of less heinous injuries. I was excited! Some action. Then I wandered to the pharmacy and had to wait 20 minutes to get the insurance straightened out and I got my eye drops! Woo hoo! Problem solved=not. Went back today on the same bus and walked the same blocks through the rough neighborhood and finally see a different doc who proceeds to poke and prod my eye some more. After using a bunch of technical jargon, he informs me that there is a reaction to natural occurring bacteria in my eye AND there is a slight possibility I have TB. Wait. What??!? Don't I need to be coughing up blood right now? I also got new and improved eye drops with steroids in them and I had to go back to the school clinic to get my lovely PPD test. Still half blind and navigating like a pro. Test results on Friday, eye appointment on Tuesday. Hopefully I make it home alive...

Happier news: English was cancelled tonight, I (finally) turned in my application to Fenway and met a nice guy who is going to mention me for a job, and I went with my friggin rockin' new friends to a comedy club last night. Hilariousness ensued both from the comics and from our tipsy asses.

Only 13 weeks left to fit everything in. I gotta get moving.


H.

To my friends.

I want to come and make you pie,
And make you see why,
You'd never want to forget me in the first place.

Sincerely,
H.

brand new.

Today's the day kids. I'm doing this for me and only me and I'm hitting the ground running.

Its about time. Being a cynic is easy. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is not. Time to take the high road.

H.

dead

So after a fitful night of tossing and turning and fever dreams, I woke up with a swollen throat and a bad case of the chills. Damn you public transportation. Also, I am the victim of either a scratched cornea or an eye infection and need to find an optometrist pronto. My body has hit the wall. The past three weeks of poor eating and constant running have worn me down. My skin is clammy and my head is pounding. Hopefully I will be better for the Monday morning commute. Gosh I sound middle-aged.

Next time I will have more to say, but for now, I'm going to go pass out on the bathroom floor where it's nice and cool and I don't have to do anything but lead my own pity party.

Side note: I stumbled downstairs and found a tv and started watching VH1 Classics for a couple hours. Something about that channel makes me happy. Maybe its the fact that Goerge Harrison is alive again?? Again with the friggin nostalgia. I'm afraid that will be the cause of my imminent ruin.

Nearing death H.

Blah.

Moving far away shows you real quick who really cares about you...and who doesn't. Just sayin'.

H.

Love the one you're with.

This city is kicking my ass. If you don't move at a rapid pace all the time, you will get run over. I was so tired riding the T back home tonight that I seriously considered curling up against the person next to me and falling asleep. I need a hug. When I get back home, I plan on sleeping through the end of December. Despite the utter exhaustion at times, it took the chaos of the city to show me how stable and comfortable with myself I really am. I'm not afraid to talk to strangers on the train and I'm not afraid to venture out on my own. I have learned that I can truly trust myself and my decisions and that most of the time I handle life pretty level-headed. I really believe that is the point in life. So many people try to find strength and comfort and love in another person, but if you can find it in yourself, you don't have anything standing in your way. You have to stay true to yourself, because in the end, that's all you will have. So that's what I'm doing.

Another thing I thought of on the train home was how I could save some cash while I'm out here:
1. Crash family reunions in the Commons and pretend I know "Bob" or "Carol" and get into line with my paper plate when the food comes out and then sneak off with some barbecue.
2. Fill up my old water bottles with city water. (So far, I haven't died from some cholera related illness so I think Massachusetts water is ok for everyone, except maybe pregnant women).
3. Borrow things (tissues, q-tips) from different people in the house so no one suspects that I am mooching off of them.

A bit of a beaten and battered H.

Blues (of all shades)

I know, I know. Another youtube vid, but this is why I think this man is a genius.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aff_zv76sCY

I miss NOLA.

H.

Remember H20gate? Neither do I.

You might have been on to something Dick, even though you were so damn paranoid.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rJsx6uYRSI&feature=related

You're not bored, you're just boring.

"I will be your Dixie-chicken if you'll be my Tennessee-land." Not much of a "Dave" girl but I love that song. I miss Memphis. And southern accents, which were much easier on the ears than Boston ones. I always miss the things I don't have and when I have them, I miss the things I did have. Weird. Or maybe it makes perfect sense in some parallel universe.
Anyone who really knows me knows that I can say and do the most random things, so my random thought for the day: I want to go camping in the Shenandoah Valley. Real camping in tents on the ground with one lousy sleeping bag that manages to unzip completely in the middle of the night and when you wake up in the morning you freeze your ass off on the way to the porta potty and slip in the dew. The best memories of my life are from camping. Playing capture the flag in the middle of the night with the Rivas and Wroblewskis and everyone else. Not even night vision googles could help the other team spot me. I wish I could have stayed 8 forever. In a way I think I will.

There's something about being vulnerable and open that makes me feel more alive than ever. Bring it on. I'm not afraid. I don't think I ever was.

H.

p.s. I'm watching old Ronald Reagan campaign commercials and they are making me nostalgic. I wish I remember the 80's better.

Welcome to beautiful Boston!

This is a hostage situation, bring back up.

I always learned more outside of class than I ever did in it, and this semester is no exception. Most of my life, I've gotten pretty good grades. In high school, I always made the high scholarship and the all academic tennis team, but once I got to college, I realized how unimportant grades really are. The smartest people I know aren't the ones who go to the Ivy-league colleges or get the straight A's. Some of them are college drop-outs and some never even graduated high school. Too often, kids get it beat into their brains that school is for getting the grades, no matter what you don't actually learn. I've had classes that have had no exams, no papers, just lectures, and the relief of not worrying about gpa's and scholarship money actually allowed me to remember something as soon as the last class was over. Maybe it's a bad case of senioritis, but grades don't matter to me anymore. I will still work to my potential (cause I can be hard on myself), but if I get a B instead of an A, so what? Will I really remember the grades I got 20 years from now? Once upon a time, universities were about promoting debate and spreading new ideas in order to advance civilization. Now they are just factories set to pump out as many students as possible, bill them until they have to sell their bodily fluid in order to pay, and beg for alumni donations until their grandchildren die. School. Me and you are coming into a new point in our relationship this year. It's all about what you will do for me, not the other way around.

H.

"wonderful, wonderful" sang johnny mathis

Short post today kids. (Who am I kidding, no one reads this). Drained and out of stuff to say so instead I'll let those who have taught me what I know have their turn.

Top 10 pieces of advice I have ever heard.
10. Being right is also being boring. Your mind is closed. You are not open to new ideas. You are rooted in concrete and your own righteousness, which is arrogant.
9. Do not seek praise, seek criticism.
8. Never be angry at your weaknesses. As long as you acknowledge them, you can work on them.
7. (About guys) Ignore everything they say and only pay attention to what they do.
6. Thinking people change their minds.
5. Curly: "Do you know what the secret to life is?"
Mitch: "No, what?"
Curly: (holds up finger) "This. One thing, just one thing. You stick to that and everything else don't mean shit."
Mitch: "That's great, but what's that one thing?"
Curly: "That's what you gotta figure out."
4. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them.
3. If someone upset you, look at how you upset yourself, love it, and let it go.
2. Sweetness is being loved for who you are, not what you've done.

1. Don't follow everyone else's rules on life.

much love H.

To baby-make or not...the new question.

So my professor for Problems in Political Theory brought up the idea that "rational human beings will choose to stop the human race in its tracks by not reproducing" and I must say, he did have some logical points. First off, I am NOT a fan of babies. Give me kids four and up and it's all good, but all babies look the same to me--smashed in cone heads, beady eyes that bore into you. That's not to say I would never have a kid or two, just way,way,way in the future. And maybe not. After watching videos of birth, I just think it's disgusting; not a miracle. But when you think about it, the environment is rapidly degrading, the economy is sinking, China is taking over Earth...why would I want to bring a person into the world so they have to deal with toxic sludge and toy recalls? And wouldn't the world be better off with less people anyways? If an asteroid came and obliterated the human race, the environment would survive. My professor mentioned that a certain philosopher, who was a man named Michelle..., was actually contemplating how to bring about a global catastrophe to destroy 4/5ths of the human race. I'm sure he wants to be on the list of those who survive (but maybe not because he's a philosopher), but who lives and who dies? Is it survival of the fittest, smartest, or prettiest? Wouldn't it be better off for every other form of life if we all just died off? Well, maybe not our doggies and kittens, but they'd die soon after. China is attempting to limit births, but somehow, this is causing bigger problems. Are we headed toward the kind of world Huxley imagined? Do I want to be around to find out? Do I want my unborn zygotes to?

H.

Cure for this fever?

All this Obama talk is driving me crazy. All this McCain talk is driving me crazy. Political science is my minor and I'm sick of it. Politics used to excite me, but not too much anymore. Its all tainted and just a game. I consider myself an idealist and when I'm let down (which is often for an idealist), I can become very cynical. The only politician I ever gave a shit about was Bobby Kennedy. Even though he was assassinated 18 years before I entered the world, his life matched what he wished for the world. Born into "America's royal family," he was handed things from the beginning. He didn't start from the bottom. He didn't truly know what it was like to slave away all day in the Mississippi Delta just to go home with a buck and five bellies to fill. BUT he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. When he first started out, he was considered ruthless. He crusaded against the mob and Jimmy Hoffa. He was slow to understand the humiliations of those of color and the hopelessness of those in Appalachia. But when his brother, who provided his life a purpose, was shot, the proverbial rug was pulled out from under him. Nothing changes a person quite like having to find themselves. He felt pain immensely and that allowed him to understand what it was like for the suffering in America. He wrote personal notes to everyone. He hugged children and dogs. He could sit for hours looking out into the distance. Once he was a war hawk, supporting the Bay of Pigs and calling for the assassination of Fidel Castro, now he was a dove. A lover AND a fighter. And he continued on, even when he had to constantly look over his shoulder for the next gun and bullet with his name on it. I believe he was close to understanding what "it" is. I don't see Obama or McCain anywhere close. Maybe I've caught the Kennedy fever that runs rampant out here, but I don't know how much I care about politics anymore and I find that unfortunate. Way to be cynical.

I guess hindsight is always 20/20. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG4vJxi9Kis&feature=related Take that you lousy politicians. In your dreams.

H.

"Will you be my Lois Lane?"

Some guy in a Superman costume asked me to be his Lois Lane today. I declined telling him that I was more of a Batman girl to which he replied, "Girl, Batman will only break your heart, come with me and we can go to Krypton and I'll love you forever." Basically, I crossed at the first corner I could find. My first week in Boston has already taught me how to be a big girl. Aside from having creepy ex-prison convicts take my picture with their circa 2002 cell phones that have been recycled already by dozens of people, most of the people on the subway just wanna get to the damn Red Sox game. Who can blame them? There really is a different atmosphere down Yawkey Way. Its like no matter how you are feeling, if you get off at Kenmore station, EVERYBODY is smiling at you because it is so damn gorgeous out and you can smell the grills firing up and the beer on the breath of all the middle-aged men who stomp past with their wives/live in girlfriends/kids on leashes in tow. Riding the T back to my station is an experience in itself. The first thing I see when I get onto Newbury Street everyday is rows and rows of paintings of naked ladies. And not normal naked ladies (if there is such a thing), but the naked ladies in Picasso's sexual fantasies. Grant it, these are no Picassos but the people still shell out the cash for "high art." I took the blue line to Wonderland Beach this weekend and managed not to get burned even though I should have because I am too cheap to buy sunscreen. I pissed off the wrong seagull by stealing its crab and some homeless guy thought I was Brazilian. Go figure. A skinny white girl from small town Illinois. I walked through the Commons on the way to the red line (which I had to switch to get to the orange line and then the blue line) and saw some people riding unicycles which got me thinking of the unicycle guys that ride the quad at ISU. I wish I had the grace to ride one, but knowing myself, I would fall on my face and probably break my nose and push the bones into my brain and die on the pavement. On that rather morbidly poetic note, I'm signing off leaving my first week in Boston a success.



H.