10.14.03
So I'm chilling on the floor and Mario and Cameron's room, watching the Cubs and having my legs warmed by Cameron's laptop. Mario's on the phone with his mom...after Alex talked to her for the last twenty minutes or so. The Cubs are up 1-0 with a 3-2 game lead, and now my Yankees have a smiliar lead over those damn Sox. I've done my music homework for tomorrow so all I have to do is sit back, chill, and enjoy the game.
I love college.
I've also taken a nap and had classes and stuff today, but that's really not the important part right now, because those are behind me and all I've got now is to enjoy myself until I'm ready to sleep again. It's nice.
The last month or so has been mixed, but you take the good with the bad, y'know? When last we left our hero, I was about to go climbing. And I did. Wes hooked me up with the guy Chris, who's a Senior and really cool and nice and has a car and a rope. Bueno. Friday we went to a local gym, which was...climbing. It's small (about a third the size of Peak), has gymnastic mats for landings, and is essentially one big highball gym. I wouldn't be concerned about bouldering to the tops of every wall in there 'cuz I know my landing is solid...except in the places where the walls are so close together I'd be worried about knocking myself unconscious. I clmbed like shit, but I suppose that's only to be expected since I'd not been on a wall in months...my hands hurt, I was sore as hell the next day, and we went out again, this time to Ragged Mountain.
I've been reading about this place for a while, basically since I figured out I was going to be coming to college in Connecticut. It's not the New, but then, few things are. For starters, there aren't any bolts, which confused the hell outta me...fortunately, Chris had a trad rack, so he led a nice little 5.4 and then we led a line that was probably an FA, since iit was dirty and had a tree growing out of it and probably was not meant to be climbed. But it was fun, I pulled a neat move, and I got to climb outside, which was awesome. Then I sent a fun seven which is supposedly a classic, and that was the end of our day. Oh yeah, it wasn't just me and Chris; Dan came too. Since none of you probably know Dan, or Chris, or Wes for that matter, this probably means little to you, but it was fun. Dan's a senior too, friendly, entertaining...yeah, we had fun. I miss climbing, and I'm going home in a week and a half and you better believe I'll be spending all kinds of time at Peak, hating the fact that I can't do ANYTHING anymore. I've been doing the occasional hang workout on the pipes outside my door, and I'll do pullups in the lounge and stuff, but I've lost my calluses again and have little to no core strength anymore (not that I had much to begin with) and it's just gonna be ugly. Ah well. I've also done a fair bit of slacklining with Chris, which is enjoyable, until he ties his line at 'shoulder height' (which means roughtly as tall as me.) It's harder, requires a bit more balls, and left me sore for three days afterwards, which is just testament to the fact that I have no muscle. Yippee.
So the Cubs are up 2-0 in the seventh and Chicago's going nuts...and rightly so. I can't even imagine what would happen in Richmond if the Braves did anything remotely exciting. (We're a minor league team, but there's still room for greatness...we just suck.) I'm getting really sick of the Boston fans and their accusations of fair-weatherness or buying our team or what have you...I'm a Yankees fan, but I'm also a New York fan. I support the Rangers, though good and bad - mostly bad - and if I gave a damn about foorball or basketball I'd support the Jets and the...okay, so I don't know who New York's basketball team is. I'm not even sure they have one; I don't give a damn about basketball, so there. Anyway, the school's predominately Boston fans, but it's not because we're nearer to Boston or even because this is a school that particularly cares about Boston. It's because it's the cool thing to be...you know, they've not won a Series since 1918, and the Yankees are the Evil Empire. So jump on the bandwagon why don't you, and wear your hats and Ramirez jerseys and nevermind that you don't know what an ERA is or what K stands for or even the difference between the Cubs' streak or the Sox's streak. People don't know what a 'best of seven' series means and don't understand that whoever wins the Yankees-Sox matchup won't be World Series champion. People don't get it, but they do get that it's cool to trash the Yankees, so they do it, and I can't defend myself or my team because no one knows what I'm talking about when I discuss salary caps or choking habits.
But I'm not in the mood to go any further into that because I'm not in the mood. Mario just told me that the New York basketball team is the Knicks, and I realize that I did in fact know that, just not as readily as I know the Rangers or the Yankees or the Jets. Go Yankees.
So two weekends ago was Parents' Weekend. I'm not in the mood to look back at my calendar and figuring out how I spent the intervening weeks, especially since I'm not even sure where I am in relation to my room...I know I'm one floor down and one or two or three blocks over...I really don't know, and I'm quite comfortable. So. Family Weekend happened, and it was pretty...meh. I mean, I love my family, and it was great that they flew all the way up here to visit and all, but it made me realize that I've adjusted completely to a new environment and I rather like it here. I'm looking forward to going home for holidays and summers and whatnot, and that's fine, because it's keeping my family life in Richmond. When they show up here it's just odd, because I had to adjust my language and habits and such...I dunno. I'm glad it's over.
Friday was dinner out and an a cappella concert, which was fun. After I went over to Doug's apartment on Crescent Street and goofed off...turns out Wes is phoenomenal at beer pong (and fuck all of you that call it Beirut) and I puttered around watching him and talking with Ban and Kevin and Pat and others...I'd spent some time at Summit with Laurie and co earlier, and had made the mistake of letting Laurence mix me a drink. That combined with Crescent and not sleepipng enough and then having to get up at 8:45 the next morning to sing...it was an unplesant experience. Add in the fact that I was suffering from my usual winter crud and that concert was positively disgusting. Bam made it amusing, but not fun; going to Target with my family was also kind of fun, and the nap I subsequently took was also fun. That night we went out to dinner again...but it ended up being a group - me and Mel and her sister and parents, plus the orphans: Laurence and Joe and Mike and Christine. We piled into two cars and headed out to this Italian place that was awesome, and I think a good time was had by all. Following, I went with Laurence and Joe and Jen (Mel's sister) and Mike and Rocky to Crowe, the rugby frat, where I proceeded to learn some feminine tricks from Jen (who's awesome) and sing really loud and watch some guy puke multiple times over a balcony...which I guess is par for the course for rugby parties. I came back and crash landed on Joe's bed for a few hours, and finally went to bed around four am. I had to be up the next day early for a morning chapel service which really sucked quite badly. Most of us were sick, there were only about ten of us there, and it was just bad. Plus, the sermon was extra long and we all just kinda wanted to go back to bed. But we didn't; following, my parents and Mel and I went back to Mather for brunch and they went on their merry little way. I puttered around for a little bit, went to the mall with Laurie and her brother and then Joe and I went off to see REM.
Yeah, you heard me. REM.
REM has been my favorite band since sixth grade. I've been looking forward to this show for almost a year, when I heard they were touring. I've had tickets since July. I went last Sunday, and it was amazing. Joe's mom brought us to his house, where we got directions and a car. Then we headed up to Boston. We listened to the Yankees game until we got into Sox territory, then channel surfed and talked. We rolled up to the concert a little bit before it started, got some hotdogs for dinner (I broke my rule of never eating hot dogs except at baseball games, but I think I've been forgiven), and then I fully realized the implications of a Southern girl moving to New England.
The Tweeter Center, where the show was, is an outdoor ampitheater. Outside. In Boston. In October. I was wearing two longsleeved tshirts, because I'm an idiot. I forked for a $45 sweatshirt, which I probably would have done anyway, 'cuz tshirts were thirty (yeah, it was pretty shitty), and it's a cool sweatshirt. But it ended up being necessary, and even then both Joe and I were shivering for the better part of the show. We were also standing rather far back, but it was okay, because the lovely people at the Center provided big screen TVs for those of us who were far back. See, in every other show I've been to, General Admission usually means the pit. For this show, though, General Admission meant the lawn, so we were a good bit back. Still, the crowd was electric, even from behind, and it was awesome to watch the mass of singing, dancing people from behind, lit by the lights from the set and totally engrossed in the music of the band.
They played a two-hour set, including all sorts of music...radio hits, obscure songs, and three new songs. Michael Stipe gave commentary, coming out and announcing 'it's not that cold' to the boos of the crowd, introducing them with 'we're REM and this is what we do' and telling us about how he made a scarf out of everything including his underwear, or how one song reminded him of the first time he met his goddaughter. Mike Mills sang 'Don't Go Back to Rockville,' because the person for whom he wrote it was in the audience. The whole feeling was one of cameraderie and friendship...we were included in Michael Stipe's thought processes and the stories behind the songs. We heard about the other people beyond the three incredible men on stage...family and friends and staff...it was awesome. I sang at the top of my voice, through my cold, for two hours straight...I'm still a little crippled from that, but it was so well worth it. Great music, great company, great times. And I have a sweatshirt and an empty wallet to remember it by...not to say that I'd not remember it of its own accord.
But seriously, I can now check something off of my lifetime to-do list. And I did it in the best possible way.
The Cubbies just lost, but they sure did it fantastically. It was 3-0 in the seventh, and suddenly it became 8-3. I'm not sure how that happened, but it stemmed mainly from the fact, I think, that both teams were playing lousy and that fan interference (it shoulda been called as such) kicked the Cubs out and the Marlins in. But it's okay, because they've still got tomorrow, and the Sox are going down in six. Alex - a new but passionate baseball fan - was screaming her head off behind me, and I got other such insights as "legs I can deal with, but armpits is non-negotiable," from Mario on shaving.
The two days following the concert were Trinity Days, which is basically code for Slacker Days. I had nothing to do for two days, so of course, I did nothing. It was great. I hung out, read a bit, slacklined (I think?) and just sorta recovered from being sick and having family here and the concert. By Wednesday I was about ready to go back to classes, though that doesn't mean much more than I have a short attention span.
Wednesday the Yankees-Sox series started, and life around here has been hectic ever since. The first few games were a lot more charged, though...the sometimes-fans are getting bored. The first game I watched in here, surrounded by a dozen drunk Sox fans...and me. Right. The next game I watched in Mike's room, with real basaeball fans and good company all around. Game four was in Dave's room, and when all the shit went down in the fourth inning I moved back in here 'cuz I'd found Joe and Mario and a quieter place to enjoy the post-scuffle festivities. Game five was rained out, because Pedro fucked with Don Zimmer, and I watched it with upstairs-Mike for a while, then in Mel's room. And that was last night. Tonight I napped until sixish thirty, then went to Chapel Singers, and came back in time to see the last inning, go Yankees. And here we are. So let's back up again.
Last weekend was...something. I always feel like Friday afternoons are wastes...I'm witing for Mel to get out of class so stuff can happen, and in the meantime I'm just sorta debating...y'know, debating doing work, debating updating So There, invariably doing neither 'cuz I'm a slacker.
And let's just not talk about Friday night, k?
Saturday...I did stuff. I slept late, Mel and Erika and Christine had taken off for a road trip, and I was around to watch the game. Then I went to see an a cappella group at the Bistro, and then off to the Gender Bender. It was an awesome party...packed, but fun. I like Cleo. And then I got home and realized Sergio had worn my last clean bra, and so laundry had to be done. I spent a bit of Sunday doing that, after I got back from Chapel Singers and dinner with the Bishop at the President's house, which was fun and informative and just the right length. Then I came back to see that the game had been rained out, and there went the Chi of my evening. Feng Shit and all that...I did laundry, watched Robin Williams with Mario, and got a scary phone call from Matt which threw the rest of my night and much of the following day way off.
I'd had a music midterm, and I studied by having a few beers and watching the Yankees win. I pulled a 90, tho, so life is okay. I almost didn't go to History yesterday, but I did, for some reason, then had lunch with Mel and Mike and Sergio, and it was fun, 'cuz they're a cool group. Following, Serge and I shot some pool, I suck at pool and he's awesome, and then I came home and took a nap before Chapel Singers. After the game, I came back to my hall to find it reeking of weed and alcohol...people were staggering around and shouting anti-Yankee epithets, and a combination of the loss and the night before and not sleeping chased me upstairs to Mike's room because I really was in a shitty mood and didn't feel at all like doing anything in my rowdy hall. So I escaped to the third floor, finished reading the Analects, and calmed down, because Mike's awesome like that. Then I settled back into my chair to write an email that I wasn't planning on sending anyway and got a bit into that...and suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was Jamie, a girl I didn't recognize, and a guy who I swore for a split second was Trip. It was two friends of Jamie's, and after a bit of wandering and a bit more writing Jamie and his Triplike friend and Ayesha came back and we ate pizza and drank soda and hung out and it made my night a little better, 'cuz people are a good way to de-stress.
Today I...slept. Woke up, went to seminar, fought with myself to stay awake in religion, failed, had a quick lunch in Mather, and fell asleep. Woke up for Chapel Singers, watched the end of the game, got dinner with Laurence and Joe, and watched the Cubbies. And now I'm here.
I'm well aware that I left out a few weeks, but I can't think of anything that happened that I'm missing...but I can always look back and try and remember. It doesn't matter anyway, really...I mean, you don't care, I don't care (or I'd remember) and the fact that I finally got around to updating needs to be celebrated no matter how incomplete this is. So I'm done now...I'm gonna close this out, give Cameron back his computer, and run amok for a bit before crashing. I'm going home in a week and a half, and I'm psyched...it's gonna be home-type people at home...my car, my gym, my friends, my Andrew, my bed, my food, and my Collegiate Players. I'm gonna see the play, and it's gonna be fun...I've not watched a Collegiate play from the house in five years, and I'm ready to see what it's like from behind the fourth wall. I can't wait. And then I'll be back here with friends and freedom and the like. And I can't wait.