A few weeks ago, I walked into the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences building (or CLAS, or now the Philip E. Austin Building) up on UConn, and handed in my last of two seminar papers I had due for the week. I then set up my final paper due dates with my students; they'll be sending them to me by the end of the day. I slipped the paper, a 21 page meditation on child post-war Holocaust testimonies, into my teacher's mailbox, and walked out the door. It took me all of fifteen minutes, twenty if you count the last-minute edits to my bibliography I did before printing it out. I got in my car and started crying.
It wasn't that sort of crying you know is coming and you need to get somewhere private, quickly, so you can just blubber in secrecy. It was the unexpected, tears-ripped-from-their-ducts weeping. My body gave out. I drove home, still crying, and stared at Mickey's Twice Upon a Christmas. I couldn't move. Couldn't think. My mom asked me what I wanted for dinner and I just shook my head, mumbling "Too hard."
I spent Christmas and New Year's deliberately not looking at anything academic, even though I had an MA exam to study for. This was twofold - I wanted an actual vacation over the holidays and spend time with my loved ones, and a few days before Christmas I came down with a horrible chest cold that landed me in bed nearly all Boxing Day.
After the New Year I shut myself up in the library with friends also taking the big test. There was more than one occasion I found myself standing in the shower until it ran cold, sobbing hysterically, thinking I couldn't give any more of my brain to this task. Part of that panic and tension kind of thrills me in a sick way;I had such a good time sitting in those little rooms, reading and analyzing poetry and theoretical essays with my friends, while simultaneously spilling our guts out to the soundtrack of Mumford & Sons. I am an insufferable geek. I know this.
January 18th rolled around, and I spent nearly the entire day in a computer classroom completing the MA comprehensive exam with my fellow graduate candidates. The exam itself is 6 hours but I got to my school at 8:30 and didn't leave until 5. By the end, I was proofreading my responses to make sure I wasn't just making up words. My brain felt like scrambled eggs.
I didn't cry. I walked out of the examination room and fist pumped so hard I spilled coffee all over my shirt, and then went straight home and watched bad movies on Netflix instant while eating a giant bowl of polenta and veggies.
I started this journey not even sure if I would even get back into graduate school. I got rejected the first time out, which was absolutely the right decision for UConn to make. I wasn't ready in any shape or form to be a graduate student. I hadn't really started expressing myself in big, loud, capital letters, which in English graduate school is antithetical to the expectation. I wasn't sure about my brain. I didn't believe people when they said I was smart (You would not believe the vast amounts of things I am entirely NOT intelligent about. Like math. Or science. Or our legal system. To me, a tort is a dessert.). Zero self esteem about anything. New York had thrown me for a huge loop and I was not prepared for how it had damaged my confidence.
So when I got the rejection letter on the first go-round in March 2010 - my God, how things can change in even 3 years - I was devastated. It was the icing on the shit cake. I had failed in a lot of different things in the span of about 8 months - failed in NYC, failed health, failed relationship, fail fail FAILWHALE.
A few people in my life suggested that I 'pull some strings' to bribe my way into the program. That was never even remotely an option. I've had to question a lot of opportunities thrown my way - getting onto my middle school basketball team, getting into my competitive single-sex high school, getting into UConn, etc. - being a result of my last name. This was my brain, my life, my rules, my responsibility. No way would I be running to Daddy for this.
I've doubted a lot of things in my life - my body, my chances with boys, my ability to run a mile in elementary school Fitness Day without puking Push Pops all over the grass - but I will never doubt my integrity.
I formed a plan.
I asked the department of English if there was any way I could make up the credits they said I lacked. They turned me on to the idea of a year of 'non-degree study', in which I would take undergrad and graduate courses to accumulate the credits. In doing so I would also be able to attain credit matriculation-which is why now, I'm actually finishing a semester early from my fellow MA candidates who entered the program at the same time I officially did. I had already been working for an entire year longer.
So I threw myself headlong into it. I decided I would get all of the credits done in one academic year, meaning I would need to take two undergraduate and two graduate courses each semester. This was...not recommended by the people at UConn, to put it mildly. I think they were worried I'd kill myself with all the work. I ended up having a blast. I made a ton of friends in the graduate department so I knew I wouldn't be lonely in the coming years if I got into the program, and I also tried to become friends with my professors so they'd recognize my name on the applications. I sat in a classroom on my first day, listening to my professor talk about children's literature, and I realized - this is where I'm supposed to be. Everything that is happening in my life right now is for the express purposes of making me a stronger person. I truly do believe that everything, and I mean everything, happens for a specific reason.
I got accepted into the graduate program in March 2011, on my Dad's birthday no less. I was standing in the kitchen after a trip to the gym and picked up my cell phone to check some emails before heading upstairs to shower. I saw the email subject line "Offer Letter", and it took about ten seconds for me to figure out that it was from UConn, and it meant I had gotten the gig. When it clicked, I started screaming like I was being assaulted and danced around the room with my mom. I shook like a leaf for the entire day.
I entered the program in August of 2011 and after a few seminar sessions wherein I'd stare at the rest of my classmates and think "How the hell did I end up in this group of totally smart and awesome and amazing people, clearly they misread my name on the syllabus" I started to realize that maybe I belonged in this program. And then I started teaching. That is when everything truly came together. Despite being a shaky sweaty cartoon the first day I taught a class I realized that all of my training for stage and film work was really just preparing me to stand in front of a classroom and not die. It's my home now, and where I truly feel like myself.
Which is why I applied - and got hired - to be an adjunct professor at UConn in the Freshman English department. I am teaching two sections of Writing For Children's Literature, nearly three years after sitting in a classroom, nervous and lost, and realizing I was destined to teach that very subject.
Will I go on for my PhD? Probably. Not for a little while, though...I want to be out in the working world and put some time into teaching before going back for my doctorate.
It's been the hardest journey of my entire life. Seriously...losing 70 pounds was a freaking cakewalk compared to this. I had severe mood swings - studying the Holocaust for the past four months turned me into a zombie - and drank too much coffee, and lost way too much sleep, and worried way too much about what everybody thought about me for the first couple of months. Then something shifted...and the person who entered this journey in August 2010 is not the same as the one writing this to you.
So many things happened in the past two and a half years. I became an aunt, for one. I fell in love, for another. I learned more about who I am and what I want. I learned how to take care of myself when life threatens to overwhelm. I learned how to speak my opinion decisively and respectfully. I learned to look at myself in a a critical eye and made major, major changes in all aspects of my life. I started living on my own. I learned to go for my dreams but to go for them smartly. I started working for a secure future but living for the present.
A life that was very, very small and scary and lonely has become very, very, very big, and open-ended, and full of possibilities.
It's still a little scary, and sometimes I do get overwhelmed.
But I would rather be this version of me, a me that is entirely me and not a construct of other disparate personalities trying to 'fit in'. Normal is overrated. And that's what the last 3 years have taught me. To be myself, and to be convinced of my passions.
Everything has changed, and I cannot wait to see what else happens in this huge life.
A Terrible Beauty Is Born. - wb yeats
ally
PS - I apologize for the lack of "Reel Fridays". I think it might become a once-a-month thing, rather than 'every single week'. I overestimated the time I'd have available to make those vids! But I'm going to publish a new post in here every week regardless of format.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
"Reel" Friday: Oscar Nominations, Django Unchained!
Okay. I know a lot of you wanted me to talk about food/fitness/diet stuff, but I am a sad, sad little geek. When I found out the Oscar nominations were coming out yesterday I wanted to live-record some of my reactions to Best Picture and Best Actor/Actress (I meant to record more reactions but the damn Photobooth didn't record! You guys missed a stellar deconstruction of how pumped I am that Adele will be performing at the Academy Awards as well as Hugh Jackman and Seth McFarlane. UGH.)
So then I got all amped up about movies, and decided to go see Django Unchained after lunch. I am a Quentin Tarantino junkie, so I always have to see his movies the instant they come out. Oh, man. It was so freaking good. I wanted to stand up and applaud at the end. So I came home to vlogged my review...forgetting that I had given myself bangs after I had taped my reactions to the Oscars, so the hair would totally not match what I had taped earlier. C'est la vie.
Oscar Nominees from Alysa on Vimeo.
Also, thanks MoShark on Twitter for naming my vlog day "Reel" Friday! :)
ally
PS: The fitness/diet video did get made, I'll probably put it on my other blog since that one is more of a food/fitness blog. As for those of you who wanted me to talk about love/relationships, I'll be writing a blog about that later!
So then I got all amped up about movies, and decided to go see Django Unchained after lunch. I am a Quentin Tarantino junkie, so I always have to see his movies the instant they come out. Oh, man. It was so freaking good. I wanted to stand up and applaud at the end. So I came home to vlogged my review...forgetting that I had given myself bangs after I had taped my reactions to the Oscars, so the hair would totally not match what I had taped earlier. C'est la vie.
Oscar Nominees from Alysa on Vimeo.
Also, thanks MoShark on Twitter for naming my vlog day "Reel" Friday! :)
ally
PS: The fitness/diet video did get made, I'll probably put it on my other blog since that one is more of a food/fitness blog. As for those of you who wanted me to talk about love/relationships, I'll be writing a blog about that later!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Video Friday: Les Miserables
Yep. You saw that right. Now to be a weekly thing!
Les Miserables: The Video Review! from Alysa on Vimeo.
This was supposed to go up last night but I seriously underestimated the royal pain in the ass editing/uploading a video is. Don't get me wrong, editing a video on iMovie is the easiest thing ever but it's just hella time-consuming. Also, I meant to use YouTube but it was being completely uncooperative so I went to Vimeo. Vimeo's not just for wedding highlight reels, guys.
Enjoy, and if this is the most annoying thing ever please tell me so I don't ever do it again? Also, tell me what you want me to look at for next week! I kind of want to talk about the remake of Sam Raimi's Evil Dead, which just had a new trailer drop yesterday. You can watch it here but just to warn you, the trailer is a Redband (aka TOTALLY NSFW) so I wouldn't recommend watching it if you're about to go camping. Or really like trees. Or are about to eat tomato soup. Just trust me on that one...
ally
Les Miserables: The Video Review! from Alysa on Vimeo.
This was supposed to go up last night but I seriously underestimated the royal pain in the ass editing/uploading a video is. Don't get me wrong, editing a video on iMovie is the easiest thing ever but it's just hella time-consuming. Also, I meant to use YouTube but it was being completely uncooperative so I went to Vimeo. Vimeo's not just for wedding highlight reels, guys.
Enjoy, and if this is the most annoying thing ever please tell me so I don't ever do it again? Also, tell me what you want me to look at for next week! I kind of want to talk about the remake of Sam Raimi's Evil Dead, which just had a new trailer drop yesterday. You can watch it here but just to warn you, the trailer is a Redband (aka TOTALLY NSFW) so I wouldn't recommend watching it if you're about to go camping. Or really like trees. Or are about to eat tomato soup. Just trust me on that one...
ally
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
It's about old friends.
Harry: What does this song mean? My
whole life, I don't know what this song means. I mean, 'Should old
acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old
acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should
remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?
Sally: Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway, it's about old friends.
- When Harry Met Sally
I rang in 2013 in my pajamas, at a pajama party - best idea ever, i didn't have to go shopping for a one-time-only-wear dress! - with a giant glass of wine, and spent the first day of the year in my pajamas watching The Dark Knight Rises and then practicing some hot yoga. During my practice I thought about the previous year.
2012 was one of those years you look back on and think in stunned contemplation "Holy crap. All of that happened this year?" No wonder, then, that I have spent my holidays in a state of exhaustion. I ended up contracting a horrendous cold the day before Christmas and spent Boxing Day in bed, wrapped up tight in blankets, trying not to cry with how absolutely disgusting I felt. Today is the first day since December 22nd that I haven't had a chest cough. But hey, new year, new start, right?
So, without further adieu, I would like to present to you a simple list of Stuff I Did In 2012.
1. I learned what love is. It's about digging your heels in and doing the work. It's also about just being with the right person, someone who accepts you for exactly who you are. I technically found that in 2011, but 2012 was the year in which I fell and fell HARD. It's the first time I am presenting myself in a relationship as myself, wholly and completely, and he says 'yes' to all of it. It's pretty amazing. I hope all of you find a love like that. I can't wait to see what 2013 holds for us and the rest of the years we have.
2. Met incredible people. Too many to list here. All of them are precious, smart, hilarious, kind of insane, articulate, cool, and just decent people to be around. Many of these friends I met due to #1 up there.
3. Um, went to the Olympics?! Also, toured a soccer stadium and went to Liverpool and went to Ireland and drank pear cider and ate all of the falafel in London and just oh my god can I go back to Europe?
4. Went to Maryland for a football game with a ton of my friends, stayed in a skeezy hotel, watched UConn beat the shit out of Maryland (BYE RANDY) and we got sort of famous because of our awesome bus. ShowUsYourTDs! And of course I ate Maryland crab cakes.
5. Read the first three books and started the fourth book in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire and got REALLY into Game of Thrones on HBO. My friends hold watch parties every single week, with wine and book/show discussion. It's awesome.
6. Went to Maine and saw the Black Keys/Arctic Monkeys in concert
7. Ran an obstacle 5k with one of my friends and probably registering for it again this year. Yeah Warrior Dash New England!
8. Realized I didn't want to study Medieval Studies after all; I wanted to study Children's Literature and the Graphic Novel. Changing my focus was the best thing I've ever done for my career.
9. Went to a Grad Prom
10. Chopped off all of my hair for a children's charity. It's now at a longish bob length, which I really like, and all of that hair is now making a young girl with cancer look flaw free. Yay!
11. Went from just running/yoga to running/yoga/crosstraining/weights/Jillian Michaels "Ripped" workouts. My shirts don't fit anymore. My biceps are too cool for them.
12. Started watching shows I should have watched a while ago. Arrested Development is hysterical.
13. Performed in The Vagina Monologues, which pretty much changed my life.
14. Spent the entire summer by the water in Niantic.
15. Completely gave up gluten and dairy for the sake of my tummy.
16. Got accepted into a publication. Yep. February 1st I'll be handing in an article about The Hunger Games to a proposed anthology for publication next year. I'll be a published writer, and not just on a Blogger engine!
For 2013, I've got some goals. Not so much 'resolutions' but 'goals' to help me throughout the year.
High Pass on the MA exam. Teach in a way that is firm, constructive, educational, and fun. Write and publish articles I'm proud of. Confer and commence my degree from UConn. Start looking at PhD programs. Attend the Children's Literature Conference in Biloxi, MI, in June. Run a 1/2 Marathon (hopefully the West Haven Savin Rock 1/2 in March). Cook something from my cookbooks or my Pinterest boards at least once a week because it's getting kind of pathetic. Get more pedicures to wind down. Relax. Read at least 3 Presidential biographies/autobiographies. Do some form of yoga every single day. Eat more whole foods and vegetables and not as much sugar and empty carbs. Drink only once MAYBE twice a week. Work on my relationships with my family, friends, boyfriend, and colleagues, so the lines of communication are always open and everyone operates on a level of transparency, as well as integrity. See my friends more often. Make plans. Keep them. Laugh more. Dance more. Sing more.
In 2013 I plan to do more by stressing less. I can't wait to see what happens.
ally
Sally: Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway, it's about old friends.
- When Harry Met Sally
I rang in 2013 in my pajamas, at a pajama party - best idea ever, i didn't have to go shopping for a one-time-only-wear dress! - with a giant glass of wine, and spent the first day of the year in my pajamas watching The Dark Knight Rises and then practicing some hot yoga. During my practice I thought about the previous year.
2012 was one of those years you look back on and think in stunned contemplation "Holy crap. All of that happened this year?" No wonder, then, that I have spent my holidays in a state of exhaustion. I ended up contracting a horrendous cold the day before Christmas and spent Boxing Day in bed, wrapped up tight in blankets, trying not to cry with how absolutely disgusting I felt. Today is the first day since December 22nd that I haven't had a chest cough. But hey, new year, new start, right?
So, without further adieu, I would like to present to you a simple list of Stuff I Did In 2012.
1. I learned what love is. It's about digging your heels in and doing the work. It's also about just being with the right person, someone who accepts you for exactly who you are. I technically found that in 2011, but 2012 was the year in which I fell and fell HARD. It's the first time I am presenting myself in a relationship as myself, wholly and completely, and he says 'yes' to all of it. It's pretty amazing. I hope all of you find a love like that. I can't wait to see what 2013 holds for us and the rest of the years we have.
2. Met incredible people. Too many to list here. All of them are precious, smart, hilarious, kind of insane, articulate, cool, and just decent people to be around. Many of these friends I met due to #1 up there.
3. Um, went to the Olympics?! Also, toured a soccer stadium and went to Liverpool and went to Ireland and drank pear cider and ate all of the falafel in London and just oh my god can I go back to Europe?
4. Went to Maryland for a football game with a ton of my friends, stayed in a skeezy hotel, watched UConn beat the shit out of Maryland (BYE RANDY) and we got sort of famous because of our awesome bus. ShowUsYourTDs! And of course I ate Maryland crab cakes.
5. Read the first three books and started the fourth book in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire and got REALLY into Game of Thrones on HBO. My friends hold watch parties every single week, with wine and book/show discussion. It's awesome.
6. Went to Maine and saw the Black Keys/Arctic Monkeys in concert
7. Ran an obstacle 5k with one of my friends and probably registering for it again this year. Yeah Warrior Dash New England!
8. Realized I didn't want to study Medieval Studies after all; I wanted to study Children's Literature and the Graphic Novel. Changing my focus was the best thing I've ever done for my career.
9. Went to a Grad Prom
10. Chopped off all of my hair for a children's charity. It's now at a longish bob length, which I really like, and all of that hair is now making a young girl with cancer look flaw free. Yay!
11. Went from just running/yoga to running/yoga/crosstraining/weights/Jillian Michaels "Ripped" workouts. My shirts don't fit anymore. My biceps are too cool for them.
12. Started watching shows I should have watched a while ago. Arrested Development is hysterical.
13. Performed in The Vagina Monologues, which pretty much changed my life.
14. Spent the entire summer by the water in Niantic.
15. Completely gave up gluten and dairy for the sake of my tummy.
16. Got accepted into a publication. Yep. February 1st I'll be handing in an article about The Hunger Games to a proposed anthology for publication next year. I'll be a published writer, and not just on a Blogger engine!
For 2013, I've got some goals. Not so much 'resolutions' but 'goals' to help me throughout the year.
High Pass on the MA exam. Teach in a way that is firm, constructive, educational, and fun. Write and publish articles I'm proud of. Confer and commence my degree from UConn. Start looking at PhD programs. Attend the Children's Literature Conference in Biloxi, MI, in June. Run a 1/2 Marathon (hopefully the West Haven Savin Rock 1/2 in March). Cook something from my cookbooks or my Pinterest boards at least once a week because it's getting kind of pathetic. Get more pedicures to wind down. Relax. Read at least 3 Presidential biographies/autobiographies. Do some form of yoga every single day. Eat more whole foods and vegetables and not as much sugar and empty carbs. Drink only once MAYBE twice a week. Work on my relationships with my family, friends, boyfriend, and colleagues, so the lines of communication are always open and everyone operates on a level of transparency, as well as integrity. See my friends more often. Make plans. Keep them. Laugh more. Dance more. Sing more.
In 2013 I plan to do more by stressing less. I can't wait to see what happens.
ally
Sunday, August 26, 2012
The Beginning of the Beginning.
Last year on this day, I sat in my parents' house (still my place of residence), single, and terrified. I had just spent a week working as hard as I could on my course syllabus for my students as part of my first year of teaching a freshman English college composition seminar, as part of my degree requirements for my Masters in Literature. I wasn't even that nervous about the actual classes I was planning to take for my degree; it was all about how nervous I was about teaching. More nervous than any performance I had ever done in my life.
I quickly dove headfirst into all of it. I focused all of my energy in three areas: teaching, my own scholarship, and the gym/yoga classes (the gym to stay in shape, the yoga to calm/center my mind). I can remember a few days of one particular week last year in early November when I ran 7 miles, about three times in the span of 6 days, just because I was so stressed and needed an outlet. It worked, but I wore myself to the bone.
This year, I have a new game plan. One that will involve less killing myself in the gym and more focus on what really matters. So, I have revamped my "How To Survive Graduate School" list from last year into "How to Not just Survive, But Kick Graduate School In the Ass (While Maintaining an Actual Real Life)".
1. Don't be so concerned with what other people think/do/read/teach/write.
Last year I was incredibly intimidated by everyone in my department to the point that I shrank back and didn't want to engage in debate (this was fixed by the end of the year...). Now, I have more confidence in my skills and am willing to do what it takes to make my voice heard if I've got something to say, and I don't plan to sink my head down in defeat if someone disagrees with me. I'm smart, I've written several very well-received seminar papers, and my students have given great evaluations. With the students, I don't need my students to like me (although that's fun, let's face it...I bonded with a few students last year and they were fantastic). I need them to write strong academic papers in correct MLA format. If they hate me, they hate me. But I'm about as intimidating as a bar of Lindt dark chocolate, so I don't think I'll be getting any haters. (although Haters Gon Hate...)
2. Take care of myself (physically). AKA, put in work at the gym but don't overdo it.
My stress relief is exercise. Always has been, always will be. Now, more than ever, I rely on exercise to bring focus and strength to my day. Plus it makes my biceps look great and I don't want to fall into the "I'm a stressed graduate student, therefore Butterfingers have no calories!" trap. I want to be healthy. But I don't want to just get up at the butt crack of dawn and plug out 7 miles because I'm stressed and need to run away, or plow out 60 minutes of random cardio on the elliptical. It wears me out and causes the muscles I work so hard for in the summer to disappear. Because all of these seminar papers and exams and grading and my students' output were so out of my control, I used the gym and my diet as my constant. This year, I want to maintain healthy eating (read: no protein bars for lunch unless I'm running around and seriously cannot sit down to eat) and a healthy muscle tone, while not going insane. I want to get up, go to work, do a Jillian Michaels DVD and a bit of cardio, and then get the hell on with my day. Or, do a bit of cardio and then a Power Yoga class, and that's it. Whatever I'm in the mood for that day, no set pattern except no two days in a row of the same muscle groups. Also, the stress of the semester aggravated some of my history with disordered eating and exercise patterns (and my really ass-backwards schedule, with classes very late in the day instead of first thing, didn't help matters.). Note: With my earlier classes this year, I can push my workouts back until either mid morning or early evening, which have always been my preferred times of day to work out rather than the morning because I feel stronger and can tackle heavier weights, but also I'm not as inclined to just plug away on the elliptical for an hour and not really do a 'workout'. I want to be in 'shape', not just 'skinny'.
3. Take care of myself mentally. AKA: More fire pits with friends, less sitting alone in my room freaking out about my library orders.
I wish I had done more leisure activities last year. I wish I had gotten more pedicures, and not just because running has absolutely destroyed my feet. I wish I had just sat in a Starbucks and drank coffee and read for leisure, although reading for leisure doesn't exist when you major in English. I wish I had celebrated the fall more, because it's my absolute favorite season. I wish I had hung out with my classmates more. I wish I had seen my nephew a little more often than I did. I wish I had waited until mid-morning to go to the gym with my sister more often, because we'd just talk on the elliptical the whole time. I wish I had gone to more football games, not just because I love tailgating and everyone I tailgate with, but because it was back when I was first starting to date my boyfriend and it killed me that I was excusing myself out of hanging out with him when that's all I wanted to do. Truth be told, I was worried it would take away from my schoolwork - the thing I wanted to make top priority - and closed off. I wish I hadn't excused myself out of so many opportunities to see him during the fall, because our time is so fleeting together during the school year. This year I plan to take as many chances as I can get to see him as well as my friends. My calendar is packed this fall, most of it nothing to do with school and everything to do with living a healthy social life that will also contribute to my success and efficacy inside the classroom. Living life will lead to better papers, because experience breeds knowledge. Plus, more excuses to land face first in Pumpkin Spice Lattes can only be a good thing.
4. Keep in mind the GIANT Terminal MA Exam in January.
I'm technically done with my coursework in December (thanks, year long credit accumulation 'trial', for allowing me to basically coast through my grad degree with no more than two grad seminars a semester!), but that leaves one last giant hurdle to leap over: the six hour Terminal MA Exam in January. The exam covers criteria on the MA Reading List, which spans Beowulf to Beloved, and covers about every single topic in theory you can think of. It scares the absolute crap out of me but at the same time I want to ace it. Also I don't want to turn into a quivering pile of throw-up during my holiday break, aka the crucial study time for the exam. I want to be able to have a Christmas, after all. I plan on getting as much reading done as I can, and really study everything I can, and then just let it go and see what happens. At the same time, I also have two seminars this year that I really have a lot of work for - think up to 50 pages of revised prose by the end of the semester - so I have to be cognizant of the time I'm allotting to those as well. But I won't be directing my focus towards that exam until the weeks leading up to Christmas, then the week directly following the holiday season. When the tree comes down, the books come out. I'll of course take time off to celebrate my favorite holiday.
5. Be a Human Being. Not a Greendale Human Being, just a Human Being.
Show up. Do the work. Keep myself in good physical shape. Spend quality time with my family and friends. Take time for myself. Don't be afraid to ask for help. I pushed everything down last year and told everyone I was fine, and then ended up having a complete breakdown mid-March. I'm not going to let that happen again. I don't want to overthink it. I just want to show up.
Alarm is set. Breakfast is prepped in the fridge. My outfit is sort of finalized but it'll probably change when I get up.
Last four months of official graduate study. And here. We. Go.
ally
I quickly dove headfirst into all of it. I focused all of my energy in three areas: teaching, my own scholarship, and the gym/yoga classes (the gym to stay in shape, the yoga to calm/center my mind). I can remember a few days of one particular week last year in early November when I ran 7 miles, about three times in the span of 6 days, just because I was so stressed and needed an outlet. It worked, but I wore myself to the bone.
This year, I have a new game plan. One that will involve less killing myself in the gym and more focus on what really matters. So, I have revamped my "How To Survive Graduate School" list from last year into "How to Not just Survive, But Kick Graduate School In the Ass (While Maintaining an Actual Real Life)".
1. Don't be so concerned with what other people think/do/read/teach/write.
Last year I was incredibly intimidated by everyone in my department to the point that I shrank back and didn't want to engage in debate (this was fixed by the end of the year...). Now, I have more confidence in my skills and am willing to do what it takes to make my voice heard if I've got something to say, and I don't plan to sink my head down in defeat if someone disagrees with me. I'm smart, I've written several very well-received seminar papers, and my students have given great evaluations. With the students, I don't need my students to like me (although that's fun, let's face it...I bonded with a few students last year and they were fantastic). I need them to write strong academic papers in correct MLA format. If they hate me, they hate me. But I'm about as intimidating as a bar of Lindt dark chocolate, so I don't think I'll be getting any haters. (although Haters Gon Hate...)
2. Take care of myself (physically). AKA, put in work at the gym but don't overdo it.
My stress relief is exercise. Always has been, always will be. Now, more than ever, I rely on exercise to bring focus and strength to my day. Plus it makes my biceps look great and I don't want to fall into the "I'm a stressed graduate student, therefore Butterfingers have no calories!" trap. I want to be healthy. But I don't want to just get up at the butt crack of dawn and plug out 7 miles because I'm stressed and need to run away, or plow out 60 minutes of random cardio on the elliptical. It wears me out and causes the muscles I work so hard for in the summer to disappear. Because all of these seminar papers and exams and grading and my students' output were so out of my control, I used the gym and my diet as my constant. This year, I want to maintain healthy eating (read: no protein bars for lunch unless I'm running around and seriously cannot sit down to eat) and a healthy muscle tone, while not going insane. I want to get up, go to work, do a Jillian Michaels DVD and a bit of cardio, and then get the hell on with my day. Or, do a bit of cardio and then a Power Yoga class, and that's it. Whatever I'm in the mood for that day, no set pattern except no two days in a row of the same muscle groups. Also, the stress of the semester aggravated some of my history with disordered eating and exercise patterns (and my really ass-backwards schedule, with classes very late in the day instead of first thing, didn't help matters.). Note: With my earlier classes this year, I can push my workouts back until either mid morning or early evening, which have always been my preferred times of day to work out rather than the morning because I feel stronger and can tackle heavier weights, but also I'm not as inclined to just plug away on the elliptical for an hour and not really do a 'workout'. I want to be in 'shape', not just 'skinny'.
3. Take care of myself mentally. AKA: More fire pits with friends, less sitting alone in my room freaking out about my library orders.
I wish I had done more leisure activities last year. I wish I had gotten more pedicures, and not just because running has absolutely destroyed my feet. I wish I had just sat in a Starbucks and drank coffee and read for leisure, although reading for leisure doesn't exist when you major in English. I wish I had celebrated the fall more, because it's my absolute favorite season. I wish I had hung out with my classmates more. I wish I had seen my nephew a little more often than I did. I wish I had waited until mid-morning to go to the gym with my sister more often, because we'd just talk on the elliptical the whole time. I wish I had gone to more football games, not just because I love tailgating and everyone I tailgate with, but because it was back when I was first starting to date my boyfriend and it killed me that I was excusing myself out of hanging out with him when that's all I wanted to do. Truth be told, I was worried it would take away from my schoolwork - the thing I wanted to make top priority - and closed off. I wish I hadn't excused myself out of so many opportunities to see him during the fall, because our time is so fleeting together during the school year. This year I plan to take as many chances as I can get to see him as well as my friends. My calendar is packed this fall, most of it nothing to do with school and everything to do with living a healthy social life that will also contribute to my success and efficacy inside the classroom. Living life will lead to better papers, because experience breeds knowledge. Plus, more excuses to land face first in Pumpkin Spice Lattes can only be a good thing.
4. Keep in mind the GIANT Terminal MA Exam in January.
I'm technically done with my coursework in December (thanks, year long credit accumulation 'trial', for allowing me to basically coast through my grad degree with no more than two grad seminars a semester!), but that leaves one last giant hurdle to leap over: the six hour Terminal MA Exam in January. The exam covers criteria on the MA Reading List, which spans Beowulf to Beloved, and covers about every single topic in theory you can think of. It scares the absolute crap out of me but at the same time I want to ace it. Also I don't want to turn into a quivering pile of throw-up during my holiday break, aka the crucial study time for the exam. I want to be able to have a Christmas, after all. I plan on getting as much reading done as I can, and really study everything I can, and then just let it go and see what happens. At the same time, I also have two seminars this year that I really have a lot of work for - think up to 50 pages of revised prose by the end of the semester - so I have to be cognizant of the time I'm allotting to those as well. But I won't be directing my focus towards that exam until the weeks leading up to Christmas, then the week directly following the holiday season. When the tree comes down, the books come out. I'll of course take time off to celebrate my favorite holiday.
5. Be a Human Being. Not a Greendale Human Being, just a Human Being.
Show up. Do the work. Keep myself in good physical shape. Spend quality time with my family and friends. Take time for myself. Don't be afraid to ask for help. I pushed everything down last year and told everyone I was fine, and then ended up having a complete breakdown mid-March. I'm not going to let that happen again. I don't want to overthink it. I just want to show up.
Alarm is set. Breakfast is prepped in the fridge. My outfit is sort of finalized but it'll probably change when I get up.
Last four months of official graduate study. And here. We. Go.
ally
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Notes from the Olympics: Part Two.
There are so many things going on in my head right now. I am tired. I am sore. I am ecstatic. I am bone tired.
The days bleed together into my head. The mornings were the most normal we got: Get up, go for a run, pick up coffee for my two roommates, eat breakfast, check email. After that, the entire day would be really random.
I also honestly have no idea what to say about Thursday morning. Indeed, I can't really remember what we did on Thursday morning aside from a trip to Lillywhites in Piccadilly Circus to get some presents. That store is like if Topshop created a sporting goods store - over the top, insanely huge, and panic attack inducing.
Following that trip, my boyfriend and I went to Selfridges and Co. because he heard about a stall in their food section called Brass Rail that purportedly carries 'The Best Salt Beef Sandwich in London'. Apparently it was worth the claim. Also, Selfridge's has a "Food of America" aisle, containing Kool-Aid, Oreos, Betty Crocker and Pillsbury cake mixes, Marshmallow Fluff, and Cheez-It's. It is neon, artificial, and horrifying. British teens ooh-d and ahh-d at all of it while I stared in absolute shock and felt like screaming "Not all of us eat like that! I eat kale! I drink coconut milk! I bake vegan cupcakes!"
Thursday night, we all went to the O2 Arena for our semifinal game against Australia. I'm not going to lie: If you didn't see me sitting with my family, it's because I had my head between my knees to avoid vomiting from stress. I don't do well during close games, but then again you probably all knew that. I honestly wasn't comfortable until we were up by 15 in the fourth quarter. I know how good Australia is, and if it weren't for Penny Taylor's knee injury they would have been even better. Also, the game could not have ended any sooner or else I'm pretty sure Diana would have kicked an official.
After nearly dying of heat stroke in the London tube, my best friend and I were invited to watch the women's gold medal soccer game at a local bar but we cried uncle. Our feet were simply too worn out and we were starving. We proceeded to get sushi (for me) and Indian food (for her) and sit at at the apartment for a few hours, spending some quality girl time together. It was very much needed.
Friday was quite possibly my favorite day of the entire trip and it had nothing to do with basketball. My boyfriend and I took a three hour train ride to Liverpool, England, to tour Anfield Stadium and walk around for the day. It is my new favorite city and I would love to come back for an extended trip. Aside from being absolutely beautiful and full of very nice people, the overall air it gives off is one of peace and calm. It might be because it's on the water, or because we had nowhere to be except to make sure we were on the train in time for our ride home, but I was overwhelmed by peace the entire day.
The Anfield Stadium tour was awesome, too. I've always been a fan of soccer but never devoted to one club like my boyfriend, and this trip solidified me as a genuine Liverpool fan as we wandered through the locker room, the old "Boot Room" turned Press Room, and of course the stadium itself, which was eerily quiet and perfectly groomed despite a game being played on the pitch just over 12 hours earlier. I stood in awe of the way the people of that city revere their team; in the museum we got to watch old game footage and the shots of the original Kop grandstand seating scared the shit out of me. I guess it's true for other footy clubs in Europe, but we never really get the sense of that devotion to football over in the states. But then again, the British don't really do baseball and basketball like we do, and of course they don't have American football. Maybe that's the way people get about my Dad's team, and I just am too 'inside' to see it?
Saturday was Portobello Road day, and my best friend and I met up with her cousins for a stroll around Bayswater and the outdoor markets. Our verdict? Interesting, hipster-clogged, and ridiculously overpriced. I bought exactly one thing, and it was a present for a friend.
That night was the night we had all been waiting for. The gold medal game, against France. We got to the O2 at around 7:30 and navigated the ridiculous crowds for some sushi (yeah, I know. A giant tub of arena sushi is probably not the best thing to eat. But dammit I wanted sushi) before getting to our seats. And we were in the nosebleeds. I'm not talking about 'oh, that's kind of high up' nosebleeds. I'm talking about 'If I stand up I might die' nosebleeds. I spent the first half of the game crammed up against my seat back, terrified and experiencing vertigo in dizzying waves. Once the second half started and I was a bit more comfortable, the game viewing became a much more pleasurable experience.
I would also like to point out as a moment of personal pride that I did not get felt up by a security guard or by TSA once during the entire trip. The rest of my travel party was not so lucky. Either I'm just super innocent looking, or the TSA people saw how flat my chest is and knew I couldn't be smuggling anything in there.
The game was the game. Candace Parker and Angel McCoughtry stood out, the defense was overwhelming in the second half, and Sue and Diana kicked it into high gear to really put France away. Truly, as I sit here right now, I can't really recall the game in its entirety. But the ending? That I can recall perfectly.
I remember the countdown to the final buzzer, shaking my head in disbelief as the gold medal became reality. I remember spotting my sister, dancing in the crowd across the way with another flag, singing "Born in the USA", and jumping up and down when my Dad spotted her from the floor and waved. I remember seeing Diana look down at her medal.
I remember looking up at the final score, as Lady GaGa's "Edge of Glory" came blasting out of the speakers, suddenly thinking about my Pop-Pop and Dennis Burden, and feeling tears come streaming down my face. We stood there, holding each other in a giddy, weepy lump, watching the scoreboard.
As the awards ceremony started, I looked down to the lower level and saw my Mom waving frantically at us. "Come down!" she screamed. We very, very carefully made our way back to the aisle and ran onto the concourse, to the escalator, and screamed down the stairs, flags waving in the breeze, to my mom, aunt, and Nonna. Mom was already crying by the time we got there, and I gave her a tremendous hug.
It wasn't that ridiculously overwhelmed feeling I get when my dad has won National Championships, that uncontrolled sobbing that has unfortunately been captured on camera more times than I care to admit. It was more of a grateful reverence, a culmination of three years of incredibly hard work by my dad and the various incarnations of the National Team. It was for Team USA, for the entire Olympic experience.
That night is a blur. I'm not saying I got to try on Diana's gold medal (coaches don't get Olympic medals, which makes sense but damn I wanted to see them drape a gold medal around my father's neck), got my picture taken with my entire family, and Todd stalked the entire USA team for the night until he got all of their autographs, but that's totally what happened. The next day is also a blur, save for a lovely brunch and a ridiculous dinner at a steakhouse with my family in which about forty desserts were ordered. The next day we flew home and that was it.
Three years of traveling, waiting, preparing, and stress, and it's all over. My feet were swollen 2x their normal size from all the walking, my back still hurts, and I'm pretty sure it's going to take me a month to detox all the sugar and gluten I ate (I have a slight sensitivity...it's okay if I eat it in small amounts but I basically ate gluten every single day I was in London, more than once. My body has spent the last two days punishing me for that. Ah well. C'est la vie.).
I spent 10 glorious days traipsing around my favorite country (with a side trip to Ireland). I got to hold and wear a gold medal. I got to do it all with the people I'm crazy about.
Of course I'd do it all over again.
ally
PS. People are already asking about Rio. I have no idea. And if I did have any idea, do you think I'd put it on here? ;)
The days bleed together into my head. The mornings were the most normal we got: Get up, go for a run, pick up coffee for my two roommates, eat breakfast, check email. After that, the entire day would be really random.
I also honestly have no idea what to say about Thursday morning. Indeed, I can't really remember what we did on Thursday morning aside from a trip to Lillywhites in Piccadilly Circus to get some presents. That store is like if Topshop created a sporting goods store - over the top, insanely huge, and panic attack inducing.
Following that trip, my boyfriend and I went to Selfridges and Co. because he heard about a stall in their food section called Brass Rail that purportedly carries 'The Best Salt Beef Sandwich in London'. Apparently it was worth the claim. Also, Selfridge's has a "Food of America" aisle, containing Kool-Aid, Oreos, Betty Crocker and Pillsbury cake mixes, Marshmallow Fluff, and Cheez-It's. It is neon, artificial, and horrifying. British teens ooh-d and ahh-d at all of it while I stared in absolute shock and felt like screaming "Not all of us eat like that! I eat kale! I drink coconut milk! I bake vegan cupcakes!"
Thursday night, we all went to the O2 Arena for our semifinal game against Australia. I'm not going to lie: If you didn't see me sitting with my family, it's because I had my head between my knees to avoid vomiting from stress. I don't do well during close games, but then again you probably all knew that. I honestly wasn't comfortable until we were up by 15 in the fourth quarter. I know how good Australia is, and if it weren't for Penny Taylor's knee injury they would have been even better. Also, the game could not have ended any sooner or else I'm pretty sure Diana would have kicked an official.
After nearly dying of heat stroke in the London tube, my best friend and I were invited to watch the women's gold medal soccer game at a local bar but we cried uncle. Our feet were simply too worn out and we were starving. We proceeded to get sushi (for me) and Indian food (for her) and sit at at the apartment for a few hours, spending some quality girl time together. It was very much needed.
Friday was quite possibly my favorite day of the entire trip and it had nothing to do with basketball. My boyfriend and I took a three hour train ride to Liverpool, England, to tour Anfield Stadium and walk around for the day. It is my new favorite city and I would love to come back for an extended trip. Aside from being absolutely beautiful and full of very nice people, the overall air it gives off is one of peace and calm. It might be because it's on the water, or because we had nowhere to be except to make sure we were on the train in time for our ride home, but I was overwhelmed by peace the entire day.
The Anfield Stadium tour was awesome, too. I've always been a fan of soccer but never devoted to one club like my boyfriend, and this trip solidified me as a genuine Liverpool fan as we wandered through the locker room, the old "Boot Room" turned Press Room, and of course the stadium itself, which was eerily quiet and perfectly groomed despite a game being played on the pitch just over 12 hours earlier. I stood in awe of the way the people of that city revere their team; in the museum we got to watch old game footage and the shots of the original Kop grandstand seating scared the shit out of me. I guess it's true for other footy clubs in Europe, but we never really get the sense of that devotion to football over in the states. But then again, the British don't really do baseball and basketball like we do, and of course they don't have American football. Maybe that's the way people get about my Dad's team, and I just am too 'inside' to see it?
Saturday was Portobello Road day, and my best friend and I met up with her cousins for a stroll around Bayswater and the outdoor markets. Our verdict? Interesting, hipster-clogged, and ridiculously overpriced. I bought exactly one thing, and it was a present for a friend.
That night was the night we had all been waiting for. The gold medal game, against France. We got to the O2 at around 7:30 and navigated the ridiculous crowds for some sushi (yeah, I know. A giant tub of arena sushi is probably not the best thing to eat. But dammit I wanted sushi) before getting to our seats. And we were in the nosebleeds. I'm not talking about 'oh, that's kind of high up' nosebleeds. I'm talking about 'If I stand up I might die' nosebleeds. I spent the first half of the game crammed up against my seat back, terrified and experiencing vertigo in dizzying waves. Once the second half started and I was a bit more comfortable, the game viewing became a much more pleasurable experience.
I would also like to point out as a moment of personal pride that I did not get felt up by a security guard or by TSA once during the entire trip. The rest of my travel party was not so lucky. Either I'm just super innocent looking, or the TSA people saw how flat my chest is and knew I couldn't be smuggling anything in there.
The game was the game. Candace Parker and Angel McCoughtry stood out, the defense was overwhelming in the second half, and Sue and Diana kicked it into high gear to really put France away. Truly, as I sit here right now, I can't really recall the game in its entirety. But the ending? That I can recall perfectly.
I remember the countdown to the final buzzer, shaking my head in disbelief as the gold medal became reality. I remember spotting my sister, dancing in the crowd across the way with another flag, singing "Born in the USA", and jumping up and down when my Dad spotted her from the floor and waved. I remember seeing Diana look down at her medal.
I remember looking up at the final score, as Lady GaGa's "Edge of Glory" came blasting out of the speakers, suddenly thinking about my Pop-Pop and Dennis Burden, and feeling tears come streaming down my face. We stood there, holding each other in a giddy, weepy lump, watching the scoreboard.
As the awards ceremony started, I looked down to the lower level and saw my Mom waving frantically at us. "Come down!" she screamed. We very, very carefully made our way back to the aisle and ran onto the concourse, to the escalator, and screamed down the stairs, flags waving in the breeze, to my mom, aunt, and Nonna. Mom was already crying by the time we got there, and I gave her a tremendous hug.
It wasn't that ridiculously overwhelmed feeling I get when my dad has won National Championships, that uncontrolled sobbing that has unfortunately been captured on camera more times than I care to admit. It was more of a grateful reverence, a culmination of three years of incredibly hard work by my dad and the various incarnations of the National Team. It was for Team USA, for the entire Olympic experience.
That night is a blur. I'm not saying I got to try on Diana's gold medal (coaches don't get Olympic medals, which makes sense but damn I wanted to see them drape a gold medal around my father's neck), got my picture taken with my entire family, and Todd stalked the entire USA team for the night until he got all of their autographs, but that's totally what happened. The next day is also a blur, save for a lovely brunch and a ridiculous dinner at a steakhouse with my family in which about forty desserts were ordered. The next day we flew home and that was it.
Three years of traveling, waiting, preparing, and stress, and it's all over. My feet were swollen 2x their normal size from all the walking, my back still hurts, and I'm pretty sure it's going to take me a month to detox all the sugar and gluten I ate (I have a slight sensitivity...it's okay if I eat it in small amounts but I basically ate gluten every single day I was in London, more than once. My body has spent the last two days punishing me for that. Ah well. C'est la vie.).
I spent 10 glorious days traipsing around my favorite country (with a side trip to Ireland). I got to hold and wear a gold medal. I got to do it all with the people I'm crazy about.
Of course I'd do it all over again.
ally
PS. People are already asking about Rio. I have no idea. And if I did have any idea, do you think I'd put it on here? ;)
Friday, August 10, 2012
Notes From The Olympics, Part 1.
This will be a long one. I originally didn't want it to be, but then again, I thought I'd have more time to post.
I have had barely enough time to sit down over the past few days, and when I do sit down, it is accompanied by a loud popping sound from my entire body as it tries to figure out just what the hell all that walking/climbing stairs/walking was about, followed by a "Ohhhh, God," issued from a collective mouth made up of my best friend, my boyfriend, and myself, as we collapse after a long day of movement. Suffice to say, my time at a computer is limited. So here's what you need to know right now.
We flew into London last Friday and arrived at our apartments close to midnight, after getting truckled to a pub near our residence and chowing down on sandwiches while watching the game. The bar, the Fitzrovia Belle, had some of the best tomato chutney I have ever eaten, particularly at 10PM after a 4AM wakeup call, 6 hour flight, and hour-long trek from Heathrow Airport. We then collapsed into bed. Saturday was full of walking around and exploring things that my brother and his girlfriend had never been to (Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Oxford Circus, Piccadilly, the West End, Downing Street, the ridiculously awesome Lloyd's of London building that looks like it landed on this planet from something out of Doctor Who...we walked around a lot) and reuniting with my mom at the Team USA hotel, followed by a meetup at our official "Husky Hangout", a pub near the apartment. It was there that I tried my first Rekorderlig. There is a cider native to Europe called Rekorderlig, and it comes in Strawberry Lime. It is delicious. And dangerous. And delicious.
I always need to be careful to recognize just how incredibly wonderful my opportunities have been. Sure, travel is very stressful. There's always going to be things to contend with, personalities that clash, incidents that happen. The key is picking your battles and deciding how you will react. At the end of of the day, I'm with the people I love in my favorite city on the planet, and in a few weeks I'm going to be wishing I was here when I'm attempting to foist a love of academic writing on 18 year olds.
We also got to watch Jessica Ennis win the women's heptathlon. For those of you who aren't familiar with "Jess" as she is known here, she is an absolutely beautiful and talented heptathlete and is my new favorite of these games (with Alison Schmitt and Missy Franklin close seconds). She is also the British Michael Phelps. Her picture is everywhere here. When she won the heptathlon (by a wide, wide margin), the reaction of the crowd in her home country was absolutely mesmerising. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. Plus, it gave me perverse pleasure to watch her sculpted frame rip through the events of her discipline while drinking alcohol and eating. It's the little things.
On Sunday I went for a long run just to explore the neighborhood and to take advantage of summer air that didn't feel like a moist strangle-grip on my throat, then took some time to rest and read in the apartment. Jetlag is a bitch, people. The first time I woke up at 6:30, which is when I would normally wake up in CT, was this morning. My boyfriend and I then took the afternoon to walk around the neighborhood, buy things for the apartment, and just walk around. I've been to London before, and it's beautiful, but because of that earlier trip I didn't feel the need to go explore everything in sight. My cousins got the day to explore and my best friend has family who lives in Europe, so they were all out doing their own thing. It was great, because usually on team trips we're herded everywhere and anywhere with the team and now allowed to create our own schedules. We then watched the game at a bar because USA didn't have tickets for us for that game. Irony, eh?
Following the win, my parade of cousins and I schlepped to another restaurant to eat and watch the 100 meter sprint. And when I say 'watch the 100 meter sprint' I really mean 'watch Usain Bolt'. The entire place fell silent as we waited to see if Usain Bolt lived up the overwhelming hype. Then we walked back to the apartment through the gay district of London. Loud, proud, and awesome.
Monday my best friend, boyfriend, and I got up at the disgusting hour of 4:30AM to catch a flight to Dublin. It was an exhausting day but incredibly worth it. We walked nearly the entire city, taking time to stop at the Long Room at Trinity College (OMG) and The Book of Kells, the Molly Malone statue with her tremendous iron cleavage, Temple Bar for their shoppes where I bought The Night Circus (woah. what a good book) and ended our day at The Guinness Storehouse. Note: I did not say Brewery. This was more like a museum-style tribute to the makers and drinkers of Guinness. I don't really like Guinness, but I gave it a shot considering we were in Dublin, at the fount of the stuff's creation. It was definitely a different-tasting brew than the one we get in the States. Fresher, maybe, is the word for it. I was in bed by 7:30PM that night and slept till 7:30AM, officially knocking out my jetlag.
We flew home and got our stuff together for the quarterfinal game in Olympic Park, and walked to Oxford Circus to catch the tube. Everything was going well.
I had foolishly overstuffed my small purse with things from Dublin and the trip, and had left a wide zipper hanging open, allowing my phone to peep out. I felt a hand tug the back of my purse and lift it up. I immediately pulled it across my body and looked behind me to no one. Whoever had filched me had simply vanished into thin air. I knew before I even put my hand into my purse that my phone was gone.
I had just bought my iPhone a week ago as an early birthday present from my Mom. It didn't have a lot of stuff on it, only pictures from the trip and random text messages I had saved from various people. But I am kind of famous in my family for being dumb with my belongings, or at least not being super careful. So you can imagine my reaction to this situation. The feeling of overwhelming violation, stupidity for leaving my purse open in a town notorious for pickpockets, and a general sense of exhaustion and failure all overwhelmed me at the same time. We managed to get the phone frozen at the Apple store, but I won't be getting a new phone until we get back to the states. Aside from having to make sure everybody knows where I am and staying close to friends/family and not being able to wander off on my own as much, things seem to be okay. And it is just a phone after all. My wallet was securely snapped into the bottom of my purse, and my ID and passport were safe. That was the big thing.
We made it to the game in time for the 4th quarter, and made the long, long, long trek home. We had been told by the people at Olympic Park that the trains coming out of West Ham would make for a shorter journey. They did not tell us the trip to the West Ham station would take 25 minutes of walking, after we had spent the previous day walking all over Dublin. I'm shocked my feet are still attached to my body.
We spent Wednesday decompressing after the long two days of travel, making sure my sister and brother-in-law had flown in safely that night and getting them settled in their apartment, and getting dolled up and heading to a get-together thrown by our UConn liasons. It was was there that I got to see most of the team and say hello. During the introduction of the UConn grads on Dad's team (all 6 of them!), I was looking down at my camera, fiddling with the dials. Mom poked me in the ribs and motioned me to look up at the stage. "Diana is looking at you!" she whispered. I looked up at saw D pointing at me with a "THERE you are!" grin on her face, and I gave her a wink and a thumbs-up. She leapt off the stage after initial introductions and made a beeline over to me for a hug.
I've known Diana Taurasi since I was 14 years old, and that kind of generosity and cheerful, welcoming spirit is something she's had ever since then. If anything, it's increased. It is very easy to be in her presence. I also got to finally say hello to Sue, and give her a hug after the enormously tragic loss of Dennis Burden, her stepfather. I knew Dennis as long as I've known Sue, and it was a huge shock to learn of his passing last month. So giving Sue a hug was high up on my agenda.
After the meetup we all went out for a far-too-fancy-for-my-liking dinner at an Italian restaurant. So fancy they don't allow shorts. My brother in law had to go back to my parents' hotel and find a pair of my Dad's pants to change into. The food was covered in butter. Me likey.
I need to stop this right now, as I am currently gearing up for a field trip to Liverpool and a tour of Anfield Stadium. But part two is coming! Including our first full game since arriving in London, the semifinal game vs. Australia at the O2 Arena. Oh, forgive me...the North Greenwich Arena.
ally
PS. As a 'thank-you for being on this trip' present, I went to Sainsbury's last night and purchased 50 Shades of Grey for my best friend. She then proceeded to read selections out loud to us in a vaguely British, outrageously over the top accent while we ate sushi. My abs actually hurt this morning from laughing so hard, both at the content and her delivery.
PPS. Our neighborhood, Bloomsbury, is picture perfect. Well, there was that one guy we saw on the way to the grocery store last night leaning up against a tree, and I wasn't sure if he was relieving himself or 'relieving himself', but that's just been a blip on the radar.
I have had barely enough time to sit down over the past few days, and when I do sit down, it is accompanied by a loud popping sound from my entire body as it tries to figure out just what the hell all that walking/climbing stairs/walking was about, followed by a "Ohhhh, God," issued from a collective mouth made up of my best friend, my boyfriend, and myself, as we collapse after a long day of movement. Suffice to say, my time at a computer is limited. So here's what you need to know right now.
We flew into London last Friday and arrived at our apartments close to midnight, after getting truckled to a pub near our residence and chowing down on sandwiches while watching the game. The bar, the Fitzrovia Belle, had some of the best tomato chutney I have ever eaten, particularly at 10PM after a 4AM wakeup call, 6 hour flight, and hour-long trek from Heathrow Airport. We then collapsed into bed. Saturday was full of walking around and exploring things that my brother and his girlfriend had never been to (Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Oxford Circus, Piccadilly, the West End, Downing Street, the ridiculously awesome Lloyd's of London building that looks like it landed on this planet from something out of Doctor Who...we walked around a lot) and reuniting with my mom at the Team USA hotel, followed by a meetup at our official "Husky Hangout", a pub near the apartment. It was there that I tried my first Rekorderlig. There is a cider native to Europe called Rekorderlig, and it comes in Strawberry Lime. It is delicious. And dangerous. And delicious.
I always need to be careful to recognize just how incredibly wonderful my opportunities have been. Sure, travel is very stressful. There's always going to be things to contend with, personalities that clash, incidents that happen. The key is picking your battles and deciding how you will react. At the end of of the day, I'm with the people I love in my favorite city on the planet, and in a few weeks I'm going to be wishing I was here when I'm attempting to foist a love of academic writing on 18 year olds.
We also got to watch Jessica Ennis win the women's heptathlon. For those of you who aren't familiar with "Jess" as she is known here, she is an absolutely beautiful and talented heptathlete and is my new favorite of these games (with Alison Schmitt and Missy Franklin close seconds). She is also the British Michael Phelps. Her picture is everywhere here. When she won the heptathlon (by a wide, wide margin), the reaction of the crowd in her home country was absolutely mesmerising. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. Plus, it gave me perverse pleasure to watch her sculpted frame rip through the events of her discipline while drinking alcohol and eating. It's the little things.
Also: We give NBC a lot of shit in the states for tape delay, but when the Olympics are on, you can be sure that starting at 7PM you will get 5 hours of dedicated coverage to the Games. I have seen less of the games here than I did at home, and that's due to the lack of a 'Prime Time' block where you see all of the huge events going on. Sure, our commentators are awful compared to the more precise commentary here, and I strongly believe Tim Daggett needs to be shot out of a cannon, but at 7PM you get to see all of the big events from the day.
On Sunday I went for a long run just to explore the neighborhood and to take advantage of summer air that didn't feel like a moist strangle-grip on my throat, then took some time to rest and read in the apartment. Jetlag is a bitch, people. The first time I woke up at 6:30, which is when I would normally wake up in CT, was this morning. My boyfriend and I then took the afternoon to walk around the neighborhood, buy things for the apartment, and just walk around. I've been to London before, and it's beautiful, but because of that earlier trip I didn't feel the need to go explore everything in sight. My cousins got the day to explore and my best friend has family who lives in Europe, so they were all out doing their own thing. It was great, because usually on team trips we're herded everywhere and anywhere with the team and now allowed to create our own schedules. We then watched the game at a bar because USA didn't have tickets for us for that game. Irony, eh?
Following the win, my parade of cousins and I schlepped to another restaurant to eat and watch the 100 meter sprint. And when I say 'watch the 100 meter sprint' I really mean 'watch Usain Bolt'. The entire place fell silent as we waited to see if Usain Bolt lived up the overwhelming hype. Then we walked back to the apartment through the gay district of London. Loud, proud, and awesome.
Monday my best friend, boyfriend, and I got up at the disgusting hour of 4:30AM to catch a flight to Dublin. It was an exhausting day but incredibly worth it. We walked nearly the entire city, taking time to stop at the Long Room at Trinity College (OMG) and The Book of Kells, the Molly Malone statue with her tremendous iron cleavage, Temple Bar for their shoppes where I bought The Night Circus (woah. what a good book) and ended our day at The Guinness Storehouse. Note: I did not say Brewery. This was more like a museum-style tribute to the makers and drinkers of Guinness. I don't really like Guinness, but I gave it a shot considering we were in Dublin, at the fount of the stuff's creation. It was definitely a different-tasting brew than the one we get in the States. Fresher, maybe, is the word for it. I was in bed by 7:30PM that night and slept till 7:30AM, officially knocking out my jetlag.
We flew home and got our stuff together for the quarterfinal game in Olympic Park, and walked to Oxford Circus to catch the tube. Everything was going well.
I had foolishly overstuffed my small purse with things from Dublin and the trip, and had left a wide zipper hanging open, allowing my phone to peep out. I felt a hand tug the back of my purse and lift it up. I immediately pulled it across my body and looked behind me to no one. Whoever had filched me had simply vanished into thin air. I knew before I even put my hand into my purse that my phone was gone.
I had just bought my iPhone a week ago as an early birthday present from my Mom. It didn't have a lot of stuff on it, only pictures from the trip and random text messages I had saved from various people. But I am kind of famous in my family for being dumb with my belongings, or at least not being super careful. So you can imagine my reaction to this situation. The feeling of overwhelming violation, stupidity for leaving my purse open in a town notorious for pickpockets, and a general sense of exhaustion and failure all overwhelmed me at the same time. We managed to get the phone frozen at the Apple store, but I won't be getting a new phone until we get back to the states. Aside from having to make sure everybody knows where I am and staying close to friends/family and not being able to wander off on my own as much, things seem to be okay. And it is just a phone after all. My wallet was securely snapped into the bottom of my purse, and my ID and passport were safe. That was the big thing.
We made it to the game in time for the 4th quarter, and made the long, long, long trek home. We had been told by the people at Olympic Park that the trains coming out of West Ham would make for a shorter journey. They did not tell us the trip to the West Ham station would take 25 minutes of walking, after we had spent the previous day walking all over Dublin. I'm shocked my feet are still attached to my body.
We spent Wednesday decompressing after the long two days of travel, making sure my sister and brother-in-law had flown in safely that night and getting them settled in their apartment, and getting dolled up and heading to a get-together thrown by our UConn liasons. It was was there that I got to see most of the team and say hello. During the introduction of the UConn grads on Dad's team (all 6 of them!), I was looking down at my camera, fiddling with the dials. Mom poked me in the ribs and motioned me to look up at the stage. "Diana is looking at you!" she whispered. I looked up at saw D pointing at me with a "THERE you are!" grin on her face, and I gave her a wink and a thumbs-up. She leapt off the stage after initial introductions and made a beeline over to me for a hug.
I've known Diana Taurasi since I was 14 years old, and that kind of generosity and cheerful, welcoming spirit is something she's had ever since then. If anything, it's increased. It is very easy to be in her presence. I also got to finally say hello to Sue, and give her a hug after the enormously tragic loss of Dennis Burden, her stepfather. I knew Dennis as long as I've known Sue, and it was a huge shock to learn of his passing last month. So giving Sue a hug was high up on my agenda.
After the meetup we all went out for a far-too-fancy-for-my-liking dinner at an Italian restaurant. So fancy they don't allow shorts. My brother in law had to go back to my parents' hotel and find a pair of my Dad's pants to change into. The food was covered in butter. Me likey.
I need to stop this right now, as I am currently gearing up for a field trip to Liverpool and a tour of Anfield Stadium. But part two is coming! Including our first full game since arriving in London, the semifinal game vs. Australia at the O2 Arena. Oh, forgive me...the North Greenwich Arena.
ally
PS. As a 'thank-you for being on this trip' present, I went to Sainsbury's last night and purchased 50 Shades of Grey for my best friend. She then proceeded to read selections out loud to us in a vaguely British, outrageously over the top accent while we ate sushi. My abs actually hurt this morning from laughing so hard, both at the content and her delivery.
PPS. Our neighborhood, Bloomsbury, is picture perfect. Well, there was that one guy we saw on the way to the grocery store last night leaning up against a tree, and I wasn't sure if he was relieving himself or 'relieving himself', but that's just been a blip on the radar.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)