I've officially decided to abandon my writing aspirations and am working on a new movie set to come out this Halloween. I know, that's not very much time to get backers, cast, shoot, and edit a whole movie. But the idea is so rich there's no way I won't end up the same.
And because you're my faithful readers, I thought I'd give you a sneak peak:
"In a world where flesh-eating zombies rule the streets, one woman will dare to fight back the only way she can: by locking the door."
Cut to little old lady in a rocker, sewing, a zombie through the window about to open her door, and she nonchalantly reaches up and locks the door without missing a stitch. The zombie shakes its head and walks away.
"She's kind of slow, but they're slower."
Cut to old lady doing a crossword puzzle in an easy chair, while behind her, out the window, a man with a baseball bat is chasing a zombie around.
"They might have an incurable thirst for blood, but she has an incurable thirst for soup."
Cut to old lady eating tomato soup at her kitchen table while behind her, out the window, a zombie is feasting on a leg.
"This Halloween, they won't die. They won't be sated. But they will shy away from a lock. If you only see one movie this Halloween season, see Dawn of the Deadbolt. This film is not yet rated."
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Asking Directions
This morning as I walked down to the coffee shop in Newtonville, I was queried twice by people who actually stopped their vehicles in the middle of intersections to get directions from me. Do I really look that knowledgeable? They probably thought I was a seasoned student - in my Keens, big green backpack and quirky t-shirt, listening to my iPod and walking purposefully toward my destination. I was confident enough with the first request but, as I usually do when looking back upon all the bad directions I've been given in my life, worried for the next three blocks whether or not I was correct.
I distrusted myself so much, in fact, that merely five minutes later I shrugged at the next woman who stopped her car in the middle of the intersection to ask me directions to Boston College. But even this time, as I had let myself off to hook from giving bad directions by giving no directions, I realized I knew exactly where Boston College was, that she was on the right road, and all I had to do was tell her to keep going and look out for it on her right. I hoped that perhaps she would find it anyway - she wasn't that far away - and not curse me for all eternity for being so ignorant.
How is it that lost out-of-towners always end up asking ask other lost out-of-towners for
directions? I do it too: when I'm somewhere I don't know, I manage to ask the only other visitor where to go, and am never surprised when they turn to me, their deer-in-the-headlights eyes mirroring mine, and shrug. "I'm so sorry," they say, "I don't live here." And I understand and look for the next sucker, who, half the time, doesn't live there either.
I suppose I should feel relieved that I no longer look lost, at least not on the streets close to home. That means I'm becoming more confident and familiar with my area. Has it really only been three weeks since Kristi and I rolled into town? I feel I've been here much longer. And, obviously, I look it too - I doubt drivers risk mid-intersection pileups to query just anyone. Although this is Boston. Risking mid-intersection pileups seems to be par for the course.
Another reason I choose to walk.
I distrusted myself so much, in fact, that merely five minutes later I shrugged at the next woman who stopped her car in the middle of the intersection to ask me directions to Boston College. But even this time, as I had let myself off to hook from giving bad directions by giving no directions, I realized I knew exactly where Boston College was, that she was on the right road, and all I had to do was tell her to keep going and look out for it on her right. I hoped that perhaps she would find it anyway - she wasn't that far away - and not curse me for all eternity for being so ignorant.
How is it that lost out-of-towners always end up asking ask other lost out-of-towners for
directions? I do it too: when I'm somewhere I don't know, I manage to ask the only other visitor where to go, and am never surprised when they turn to me, their deer-in-the-headlights eyes mirroring mine, and shrug. "I'm so sorry," they say, "I don't live here." And I understand and look for the next sucker, who, half the time, doesn't live there either.
I suppose I should feel relieved that I no longer look lost, at least not on the streets close to home. That means I'm becoming more confident and familiar with my area. Has it really only been three weeks since Kristi and I rolled into town? I feel I've been here much longer. And, obviously, I look it too - I doubt drivers risk mid-intersection pileups to query just anyone. Although this is Boston. Risking mid-intersection pileups seems to be par for the course.
Another reason I choose to walk.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Wheels on the Bus
I remember riding the city bus with my mom when I was a kid. That’s what we called it, the “city bus.” I’m sure Springfield, Illinois had some sort of mass transit acronym, but if they did I never knew it. The bus mostly took us downtown, into the city, so the name stuck. I don’t think we rode the city bus for any other reason than it was fun; we had a perfectly good car (okay we had a perfectly running car), but my parents have so many funny memories of me as a child on that bus that it must have been partially upon my insisting.
After riding buses and trains as my main mode of transportation for two weeks now, I think back to these memories of the city bus and realize, with a comforting relief, they’re all the same. I think one of the reasons I felt so at ease the first time I stepped on an MBTA bus here was that it smelled the same as the busses from my childhood. I’m not talking about a foul smell, like urine or anything, but bus exhaust mixed with plastic seats and the compounded history of an endless stream of people sleepily gripping the metal bar on their way to work every weekday morning. And I’m comfortable with that smell. To me, it says productivity, motivation, and life, even when it’s rush hour and I’m stuck sitting next to the girl who finds it necessary to gossip at high volume on the phone with her girlfriend.
I like almost everyone on the bus, even the blabbermouth with the pink sparkly Razr. I like to wonder where they’re going, what they do for a living, and if there’s someone waiting at home for them who has gotten off his or her own bus. I like to see what they’re reading, hear what music they’re listening to (even though I cringe at the thought of how loud that must be in their ears) and take count of the items they carry. Some sleep, some study, some stare at their iPods, and some eat, even though the sign says not to. I got on the bus one morning with a girl carrying a Chihuahua in a handbag and realized I’d never thought of dogs on buses. How else would you take your animal to the vet if you didn’t have a car?
Sometimes, in the mornings, I ride with a man on crutches and his young son. I like to imagine what it would have been like to ride the city bus to school. It would have lost its charm, I’m sure. I quickly would have wished for a warm car or at least a school bus filled with my classmates, just as it is possible, in December, I will wish for my own car despite the traffic and outrageous parking. But I feel it is part of my experience here to get used to it: the delays, the rainy days, the girl blabbering on her phone, and the long trek up the hill from the bus stop at night. By January I will probably shrug off the hill, learn to read in the midst of chaos, and ignore each and every other passenger. Until that time, I’m just the curious passenger in someone else’s story about their bus ride to work.
After riding buses and trains as my main mode of transportation for two weeks now, I think back to these memories of the city bus and realize, with a comforting relief, they’re all the same. I think one of the reasons I felt so at ease the first time I stepped on an MBTA bus here was that it smelled the same as the busses from my childhood. I’m not talking about a foul smell, like urine or anything, but bus exhaust mixed with plastic seats and the compounded history of an endless stream of people sleepily gripping the metal bar on their way to work every weekday morning. And I’m comfortable with that smell. To me, it says productivity, motivation, and life, even when it’s rush hour and I’m stuck sitting next to the girl who finds it necessary to gossip at high volume on the phone with her girlfriend.
I like almost everyone on the bus, even the blabbermouth with the pink sparkly Razr. I like to wonder where they’re going, what they do for a living, and if there’s someone waiting at home for them who has gotten off his or her own bus. I like to see what they’re reading, hear what music they’re listening to (even though I cringe at the thought of how loud that must be in their ears) and take count of the items they carry. Some sleep, some study, some stare at their iPods, and some eat, even though the sign says not to. I got on the bus one morning with a girl carrying a Chihuahua in a handbag and realized I’d never thought of dogs on buses. How else would you take your animal to the vet if you didn’t have a car?
Sometimes, in the mornings, I ride with a man on crutches and his young son. I like to imagine what it would have been like to ride the city bus to school. It would have lost its charm, I’m sure. I quickly would have wished for a warm car or at least a school bus filled with my classmates, just as it is possible, in December, I will wish for my own car despite the traffic and outrageous parking. But I feel it is part of my experience here to get used to it: the delays, the rainy days, the girl blabbering on her phone, and the long trek up the hill from the bus stop at night. By January I will probably shrug off the hill, learn to read in the midst of chaos, and ignore each and every other passenger. Until that time, I’m just the curious passenger in someone else’s story about their bus ride to work.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Why I Don't Make My Bed
The only problem with a made bed is that it's so pretty I always just want to lay down on it.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Books Under Lock and Key
I know I am in an area that places a high value on books when
A. I have to have a special ID to be granted access to the library in which I work at Harvard, and have my backpack searched each time I leave the building, and
B. Have to have a Massachusetts driver's license to get a public library card.
Amazon.com it is, I guess.
A. I have to have a special ID to be granted access to the library in which I work at Harvard, and have my backpack searched each time I leave the building, and
B. Have to have a Massachusetts driver's license to get a public library card.
Amazon.com it is, I guess.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Filling My Social Goblet
I'm feeling a little lonely for the first time since I got here. I think it's because I've been trying to pack social spots into a bit of every day, and today I've perhaps encountered three or four other people and said maybe fifteen words to them. I finished my submission for school yesterday, which I'm proud of since it's due tomorrow. But as I'm checking on my finances and because I don't yet know what I'll be making tutoring, I avoided spending anything today. Sadly, that means I stayed home.
I hate the fact that sometimes, in order for me to feel I'm part of society, I have to go out and buy something. A coffee, an ice cream, a slice of pizza - anything that gets me out and involved with society. Even if I don't actually meet anyone, those few encounters fulfill my social needs. For example, on Friday I sat at Taste coffee shop and had several short conversations with the cute barista, a mother and her four year old daughter, and an adorable old couple who marveled over the design the barista made in the cream and foam of their cappuccino. On Saturday, after elbowing past book fanatics at a local library book sale, I had a lovely conversation with a man at Lincoln Street coffee shop about Russian literature (he saw my Chekhov book). I don't know why these interactions keep me going, but they do.
It seems sort of a funny thing to budget for: Rent, Groceries, Social Time. But perhaps until I get moving on my internship and job, it will be a worthwhile investment. And, since I don't know anyone yet to meet at bars, movies, and the like, I don't really have much of an entertainment cost at the moment. But as soon as I do start doing those things, I won't have to depend on chance encounters with strangers to fill my social cup. Although, of course, I will still need my coffee shop fill every now and again. Old habits die hard.
I hate the fact that sometimes, in order for me to feel I'm part of society, I have to go out and buy something. A coffee, an ice cream, a slice of pizza - anything that gets me out and involved with society. Even if I don't actually meet anyone, those few encounters fulfill my social needs. For example, on Friday I sat at Taste coffee shop and had several short conversations with the cute barista, a mother and her four year old daughter, and an adorable old couple who marveled over the design the barista made in the cream and foam of their cappuccino. On Saturday, after elbowing past book fanatics at a local library book sale, I had a lovely conversation with a man at Lincoln Street coffee shop about Russian literature (he saw my Chekhov book). I don't know why these interactions keep me going, but they do.
It seems sort of a funny thing to budget for: Rent, Groceries, Social Time. But perhaps until I get moving on my internship and job, it will be a worthwhile investment. And, since I don't know anyone yet to meet at bars, movies, and the like, I don't really have much of an entertainment cost at the moment. But as soon as I do start doing those things, I won't have to depend on chance encounters with strangers to fill my social cup. Although, of course, I will still need my coffee shop fill every now and again. Old habits die hard.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Dinner Gourmet
I know some of you are probably wondering how I'm doing out here. I know I am! What am I doing, you ask? What am I EATING?
Usually, I'm eating Chef Boyardee and the like, while I watch the previous day's Daily Show and Colbert Report on the internet. Tonight, however, my landlady Denise had company and insisted I eat some of the hors d'vours she made. So tonight, I watched The Daily Show in style, munching on fresh organic fruit, bruchetta with fresh mozzarella and tomato, various different cheeses and a fig, which I've never had before. (When Denise and her company found this out, I felt as if I had told them I'd never eaten spaghetti!)
It's a different world out here people. But I like it.
Friday, September 5, 2008
First Lesson
My first major lesson learned as I take flight with my new wings: have more faith in people, and first impressions are never to be trusted.
Look at Me Now
Excited and probably a little overzealous, I decided to try and avoid parking fees and walk to the coffee shop today. I also decided to open a checking and savings account at a new bank, one that has branches in more places than my current bank. So I thought, I'll just zip on down to the bank and then sit at the coffee shop for a while. Hey look, Google Maps says it's only a 35 minute walk. That's not bad. Here I go!
Except Google Maps sucks because it had me turn left instead of right, and I went 30 minutes in the wrong direction. So then I had to turn around and go back 30 minutes in the right direction. By the time I reached the bank I was soaked, hot, with the same pounding sinus headache I've had for the last week and a half, and grumpy. Thankfully, the bank process was easy yet long, so I got a good break before having to turn my brain on and start my homework. Of course when I arrived at the coffee shop, finally, I realized I had forgotten the book I am writing about.
I can really only be half-complaining, and at this point I am - my headache is beginning to subside, I'm enjoying a turkey sandwich on a baguette with fresh lettuce and tomato, a cold iced tea, free wireless, and it's a beautiful day. Sure I have to walk back (the walk really did only take 35 minutes if you cut out my detour), but I can stay here as long as I want because I'm not paying for parking and don't really have anywhere to be. And when I do decide to walk back, it will be past huge, gorgeous old homes, down shady sidewalks, across well-marked and safe crosswalks, and near a huge forest preserve and park I have already made it a point to return to next week.
In a couple months, when I am a more seasoned urban traveler and walker, I will look back on today as I trudge through three feet of snow and I will laugh at that little, tired, out-of-shape girl. "Oh, Rural Girl," I will hopefully say to myself, "look at you now."
Except Google Maps sucks because it had me turn left instead of right, and I went 30 minutes in the wrong direction. So then I had to turn around and go back 30 minutes in the right direction. By the time I reached the bank I was soaked, hot, with the same pounding sinus headache I've had for the last week and a half, and grumpy. Thankfully, the bank process was easy yet long, so I got a good break before having to turn my brain on and start my homework. Of course when I arrived at the coffee shop, finally, I realized I had forgotten the book I am writing about.
I can really only be half-complaining, and at this point I am - my headache is beginning to subside, I'm enjoying a turkey sandwich on a baguette with fresh lettuce and tomato, a cold iced tea, free wireless, and it's a beautiful day. Sure I have to walk back (the walk really did only take 35 minutes if you cut out my detour), but I can stay here as long as I want because I'm not paying for parking and don't really have anywhere to be. And when I do decide to walk back, it will be past huge, gorgeous old homes, down shady sidewalks, across well-marked and safe crosswalks, and near a huge forest preserve and park I have already made it a point to return to next week.
In a couple months, when I am a more seasoned urban traveler and walker, I will look back on today as I trudge through three feet of snow and I will laugh at that little, tired, out-of-shape girl. "Oh, Rural Girl," I will hopefully say to myself, "look at you now."
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Travel and Settling In
I have now arrived and settled in to my room in Newton. Kristi drove out with me and after an exciting jaunt at Niagara Falls (where we discovered that Canadians are just as money-thirsty as Americans when it comes to tourist traps), we arrived on Sunday. Tooling around Newton, downtown Boston, and Cambridge the last four days has led me to believe that I will like it here. Kristi is more of a Rural Girl than I (though I am still the original) so she was a bit overwhelmed with the pace, the people and the traffic. I, on the other hand, am invigorated by the pace, intrigued by the people, and determined to become a better driver. My initial impressions were confirmed today when I drove back from Logan without my GPS, listening to a great alternative radio station I wouldn't have dreamed getting in Saginaw, and stopping on my way back at Trader Joe's for some milk and bread.
Life is good.
Meanwhile, professionally, it looks like things are shaping up. I attended my first class at Lesley I will be TAing this semester, and am excited to start the readings as well as get to know the process of teaching at a university level. Who knows, I might like it enough to work my way up the ranks. My internship with the Harvard Review starts Monday, where I'll start immediately reading fiction transcripts. I have also been in contact with the academic tutoring center at Lesley and will probably be picking up some tutoring hours there for income. So things are actually shaping up professionally, too.
Meanwhile, I'm still working on school, even though I've neglected most of it for the past few weeks. I will be attached to this desk and this computer for the next three days, to finish the submission that's due on Monday. But I will probably be taking a few breaks to blog, take a dip in the pool, and eat some of the college staples I have acquired (not to mention the leftover shepherd's pie and Indian food waiting in the fridge). Now is the time to eat what I have and not spend any more money until I have a job. Unless it's on train passes and parking to get where I need to be.
I love it when I picture a situation to be a lot worse than it turns out to be. Sure I'm stressed for a while, but the pleasant surprise at the end *almost* makes it worth it.
Life is good.
Meanwhile, professionally, it looks like things are shaping up. I attended my first class at Lesley I will be TAing this semester, and am excited to start the readings as well as get to know the process of teaching at a university level. Who knows, I might like it enough to work my way up the ranks. My internship with the Harvard Review starts Monday, where I'll start immediately reading fiction transcripts. I have also been in contact with the academic tutoring center at Lesley and will probably be picking up some tutoring hours there for income. So things are actually shaping up professionally, too.
Meanwhile, I'm still working on school, even though I've neglected most of it for the past few weeks. I will be attached to this desk and this computer for the next three days, to finish the submission that's due on Monday. But I will probably be taking a few breaks to blog, take a dip in the pool, and eat some of the college staples I have acquired (not to mention the leftover shepherd's pie and Indian food waiting in the fridge). Now is the time to eat what I have and not spend any more money until I have a job. Unless it's on train passes and parking to get where I need to be.
I love it when I picture a situation to be a lot worse than it turns out to be. Sure I'm stressed for a while, but the pleasant surprise at the end *almost* makes it worth it.
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