Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Happy 21st birthday to me...

Monday, March 29, 2004

Happy Birthday, Charisa

Best wishes my dearest sister Charisa, on your 18th birthday. If I was home I'd go to the Old Mill Cafe and leave you lot's of generous tips, tease you about being a grown up, and wait eagerly to see your face when you open the present I got you. But I can't, so happiest birthday, and we'll have a jolly good bash when I get home.
What a friend told me in a pep talk during the wee hours of this morning:

"Sometimes life just happens to people. You can't help that."

Yeah, I know, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Down fall of the South

I've recently discovered one inherent problem with going to school in the south. It has nothing to do with the odd accents, the lack of mountains and the ocean, or even the beverage that is supposedly past off as coffee. It actually has to do with the weather, or rather the abundance of good weather. Immediately after spring break, the weather quickly changed to summer: blue skies, 75 degrees, and slight breeze. It's perfect. We don't have to look forward to going home to summer, it's already come to us. Consequently, it's made everyone completely distracted and tired of school. We all think that the last month of school should be like camp: water fights, relay races, craft stations, field trips, etc. I wonder if President Conn would consider that?

Thursday, March 25, 2004

No hope

"Where did you say you were from?"
"Washington State, on the Olympic Peninsula. I live in a small town called Sequim."
"No, Sequim."
"Oh, like swimming?"
"Not quite. Sequim."
"Isn't that a type of seafood you eat?"

I politely laugh. What else can I do? I've realized there is no hope to redeem this odd social interaction, and concede to what they perceive is humorous.

But it's still pronounced Sequim. And it is a real place, not a verb or a food item.

For the past 18 years of my life, I have shared a birthday with my younger sister. Not that we were born on the same day, but it's close enough with her birthday on the 29th of March and mine on the 30th. This year she will be 18 and I will be 21. Ever since we were little we've 'shared' birthdays, though we did go through a few years where we tried desperately to distinguish ourselves and put our parents through the birthday process two days in a row instead of just sharing it. Don't ask me why we thought sharing our birthday would muddle our self-identity, but since then we have come to our senses and share not only birthdays but almost everything else.

Our lovely world of shared birthdays has been disrupted the past two years since I've been at college. I didn't have the common sense to go to an in-state school, and we've been rudely introduced to the grown-up world of sending each other birthday things. Last year was the first time I realized how much I associated sending things in the mails with being grown-up. I watched my mother send her sisters and parents birthday greetings and gifts in the mail, and I always thought it was a very sad grown-up thing that she had to do. Strangely enough, now I find myself doing the same thing.

I now walk the aisle of the store without having those 'beat-around-the-bush-to-see-what-she-wants' conversations with my sister. There's an excitement in picking out the perfect card and gift, but it carries the disappointment of knowing I won't see her face when she opens it. I know we'll think about each other all day on the 29th and 30th, feeling like we've really only had half a birthday without the other.

I wrote her an email today telling her I got her package in the mail. Then I told her that we are going to have to figure something out about these birthdays so we can be together. Maybe we'll consider putting a clause into our wedding vows, and make our husbands promise to make sure we always have our birthdays together. Having a birthday by myself just isn't the same.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

A fellow choir member's description of Chorale's up-coming concert:

"You'd better be there...it's going to be wicked cool."

If only the people who read this blog were in Cleveland, I'd tell you to all come out. Like she said, it's going to be wicked cool.

They rejoice

I get a distinct feeling that something is wrong when my professor hands our tests back to us and two of my classmates loudly rejoice when they discover they scored higher than I did. "I actually scored higher than Odessa!" I have never been one to broadcast my grades (whether good or bad) to others, and it's curious to find that exceeding my score was a source of personal achievement for others. Such is my strange world of normally good grades.
Chorale's concert is in six days. Our choir director has just given us two new pieces to learn, one of which is in Russian. I've never sung in Russian, and though it's fun to sing, I feel like I'm singing a tongue twister. The translation of the text makes no sense at all.

"Brooms, brooms, yes brooms-sweepers, yes on the hearth laid about, yes from the hearth were torn off. Godfather Gabriel, godfather Gabriel, I to Gabriel was saying."

I've been chanting the words to myself for the past day, trying make sense out of the sounds I'm saying. I can't help but think after I listen to myself for a while that I sound like an old married woman nagging at her husband. 'Veniki, veniki, da veniki pomeliki, da po pechi valialisia da spechi oborvalisia.' Hopefully when we put the harmonies together it won't sound quite that way. Otherwise I'll have a hard time keeping a straight face while we sing.
Spring is definitely in the air. Flip-flops, skirts, shorts, and fake tans have sprung up everywhere in the past two days. I'll confess that the spring fever has infected me as well; I find myself wanting to be nine years old again so I'd only have to do school for half the day and then playing the rest of the day. Then I had to think about what it was about being nine that I loved so much. This is what I thought.

I feel like running up behind random people, tagging them, saying "you're it", and running for my life.

I feel like climbing a tree and going up that one more branch that I was scared to climb the time before.

I feel like swinging with my eyes closed and feeling the swishing rush in my stomach.

I feel like running through the sprinkler with bare feet and seeing how long I can stand under the arc of water before I get wet.

I feel like picking flowers and making daisy chains.

I feel like rolling down a big grassy hill and yelling all the way down.

I feel like making mud pies and not caring that my clothes are stained and my fingernails have dirt under them.

I feel like being brown, tired, and happy, and hearing my mom call me in for dinner as the shadows lengthen.

I feel like being nine again.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Okay, so I didn't get any blogging done over my break like I expected. Somehow sleeping and seeing new sights was more important. Stay tuned for further updates. They really are coming soon.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Spring Break officially begins tomorrow (hurrah! yippee! yeah! whoopee! etc, etc.). I'm waking up at 6 a.m. and leaving for Richmond, Virginia. I'm bringing one duffel bag, one biology textbook, and all my favorite CD's. I am so ready for this 12 hour road trip that will take me away from school for 10 days. I can't wait to be completely lazy and not feel guilty in the least. Hurrah for the person who decided that mid-term breaks were necessary.