I've decided I like Boston better than New York. But New York is okay. Maybe I just like Boston more because I was visiting lots of friends and having fun and in New York I actually have to figure out how to live and work and study.
There are a lot of alarming stories going around about the economy and people in their twenties, which are making me definitely want to stay in school and maybe work a bit harder at it. I guess time's up for wondering what to do with my life; it's time to do something. Americans in general are taking longer than they used to to grow up. But you can't just find a great job easily these days; you have to be competitive. And I want that dog and fireplace and baby someday, and I want money for dogfood and firewood and swingsets, so I'm going to try getting a degree that will possibly land me a decent job. The good thing about jobs as professors is that if you get tenure, you've got a decent salary and amazing job security. The bad thing is, tenure-track positions are difficult to get and so is tenure.
I wasn't really ever considering dropping out, anyway; I've just realized how little choice I really have. Anyway I'll probably enjoy it more if I work harder at it. And I didn't choose all the best classes this semester, but I will for next semester.
Midterms are over, thank goodness! Except for French, which does not at all worry me. I haven't got my grades back from the midterms so I'm still anxious about that but at least I can move on to think about other things.
Inspired by H and her pretty apartment, I am looking into making small upgrades on the cuteness of mine. We got a new couch, and although it is smaller and less comfy that the old one, I think it's much cuter, and there's no need for a slipcover that must be constantly re-adjusted, and anyway I think a smaller couch fits my small living room better. They always say it's important to have your furniture be to scale. I've found some pretty red vases to go in the living room, and I'm going to add some picture frames that match the ones I have and put pictures of my family and Sam's from the wedding in them, and Sam doesn't necessarily know this, but we're definitely getting a nice-looking chair to go with the couch, and I've found that cinnamon sticks make a great natural potpourri.
Poor Sam. Yesterday before our date night I dragged him through Bed, Bath and Beyond, Gracious Home and Pottery Barn. We're headed to Ikea next weekend, even though it's all the way down in Brooklyn. I've actually never been to Brooklyn before. I've been to Queens, but only accidentally when I took a subway train in the wrong direction.
We had Sunday brunch today, which seems like a very New York thing to do. I've definitely perfected my french toast recipe, and we've decided to make it a Christmas morning tradition. We booked our tickets to go back to Texas for Christmas. To save money, we're flying on Christmas afternoon and flying back New Year's Day.
I'm always looking for recipes of the cheap/healthy/quick/tasty persuasion, so if you have any that meet any of these qualifications, please share. I especially like things I can prepare ahead of time and cook at the last minute, so that I can cook ahead on weekends.
Why do weekends end so quickly? I'm not ready for another week, and I'm especially not ready to start thinking about term papers.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Another Tuesday has finally ended
Tuesdays have been my least favorite day for a while now. Yesterday was one of those Tuesdays where nothing I tried to do seemed to work out. And the buses and subways were particularly irrational. I tried a different route for my Tuesday commute after hearing about a crime comitted at one of my subway stops at the exact time that I'm usually there (only it was a Sunday, not a Tuesday). So I ended up on a bus, which I had been on before, and it should've stopped right outside the gate of the campus, but it didn't - it kept going. That is the worst feeling in the world, to be on a crowded bus that has just passed your stop. Fortunately it stopped probably less that 1/4 mile away, so it wasn't a big deal. And then I called Sam to have him meet me at the subway stop that the bus took me to so that we could right home together and I wouldn't have to wait at the stop alone, but he had to wait 1/2 for the subway to get there and I did have to wait alone, although I wouldn't have had to if I hadn't called him, because the train got there right when I did.
You just can't beat this city. You just have to accept it. Which I can usually do, except after such a long day as yesterday was. Suddenly I've got a lot of work to do for my assistantship. In addition to cataloging books and helping another professor with lots of different projects, I'm going to be holding review sessions once a week for a beginning Latin class and office hours for a Greek class. Two weeks from today I have my first midterm, and two weeks from tomorrow I have a midterm and a presentation in the same class.
So it's not really getting cold in New York, but the other day the apartment apparently decided it was cold enough for the heater to turn on. Our heat is included in our rent so we don't really pay for it (at least not separately) and we also don't, apparently, control it. There are two strange-looking contraptions, one in the living room and one in the bedroom, which, come to find out, are called radiators. I maybe knew this a long time ago before I moved to Texas, where turning on the heater really just means turning off the air conditioner.
Anyway, these heaters naturally deemed it appropriate for themselves to turn on one late night when Sam was gone and I was tired from class. They did so with very strange noises coming from the bedroom, and I, ever-paranoid about burlaries even when they are physically impossible, went to see what was happening there. There were strange hissing noises coming from the white thing in the corner that sounded rather sinister. My first thought was, "oh my gosh, it's a gas leak, and I'm going to die." I've heard about gas leaks and I've seen the people in movies who turn on their gas stoves to commite suicide, and then think better of it. (I don't usually watch movies in which people think of suicide without thinking better of it). Then I thought, "no, don't be ridiculous, it's just noisy because this is the first time it's come on this winter." So I went back to the living room.
Usually at night I get unreasonably hyper after feeling sleepy all day, but that night I felt ridiculously drowsy. This worried me, because I was pretty sure drowsiness was one of the symptoms of dying from inhaling gas. So I thought, "maybe I should call my parents." But I didn't want to sound silly so I put off calling them until it occured to me, that if I were to die, it might look like a suicide, unless I called someone.
They said it was fine but I opened a window for ventilation, just in case.
You just can't beat this city. You just have to accept it. Which I can usually do, except after such a long day as yesterday was. Suddenly I've got a lot of work to do for my assistantship. In addition to cataloging books and helping another professor with lots of different projects, I'm going to be holding review sessions once a week for a beginning Latin class and office hours for a Greek class. Two weeks from today I have my first midterm, and two weeks from tomorrow I have a midterm and a presentation in the same class.
So it's not really getting cold in New York, but the other day the apartment apparently decided it was cold enough for the heater to turn on. Our heat is included in our rent so we don't really pay for it (at least not separately) and we also don't, apparently, control it. There are two strange-looking contraptions, one in the living room and one in the bedroom, which, come to find out, are called radiators. I maybe knew this a long time ago before I moved to Texas, where turning on the heater really just means turning off the air conditioner.
Anyway, these heaters naturally deemed it appropriate for themselves to turn on one late night when Sam was gone and I was tired from class. They did so with very strange noises coming from the bedroom, and I, ever-paranoid about burlaries even when they are physically impossible, went to see what was happening there. There were strange hissing noises coming from the white thing in the corner that sounded rather sinister. My first thought was, "oh my gosh, it's a gas leak, and I'm going to die." I've heard about gas leaks and I've seen the people in movies who turn on their gas stoves to commite suicide, and then think better of it. (I don't usually watch movies in which people think of suicide without thinking better of it). Then I thought, "no, don't be ridiculous, it's just noisy because this is the first time it's come on this winter." So I went back to the living room.
Usually at night I get unreasonably hyper after feeling sleepy all day, but that night I felt ridiculously drowsy. This worried me, because I was pretty sure drowsiness was one of the symptoms of dying from inhaling gas. So I thought, "maybe I should call my parents." But I didn't want to sound silly so I put off calling them until it occured to me, that if I were to die, it might look like a suicide, unless I called someone.
They said it was fine but I opened a window for ventilation, just in case.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Ashy so tired...
Well, I feel vindicated. I spent $185 on my winter coat, and it was on sale from $300. I thought it was a pretty good deal. Unfortunately, as I was walking to the subway stop one day very soon after I bought those shoes, some guy (who was pacing back and forth across the sidewalk talking on his cell phone and paying no attention to people who were actually using the sidewalk properly) stepped on the back of my heel and stretched out one of my shoes. Grrr... I kind of felt like an angry New Yorker at that point.
Grad school is hard. It's a lot of work. Sometimes I wonder, why did I try so hard to get here? Why didn't I pick a major that would allow me to get a real job right out of college and then make a decent salary and live in some nice suburb and get a dog and have a baby? And a fireplace, I've always loved fireplaces...
Oh, well. This is where I am for now and maybe once I actually get to feeling like I know what I'm doing, I'll remember why I thought I wanted to do it.
The one thing I never question is why I married Sam. I've never really had any doubts about him. I love being married. I remember reading in a magazine once a long time ago about the 10 things people never tell you about marriage, or something like that. Most of them weren't that surprising, but the one I actually remember was that once you get married, you feel a stronger common identity with your spouse - you feel more embarrassed when they do something embarrassing, more proud when they do something impressive, etc. I think this is actually true and one of the few things that really changed much when we got married. It might be this that leads to the other thing that changed, which is that we argue a bit more than we used to.
Of course, what everybody always tells you is true is that you have to work hard to communicate with your spouse. Sometimes they have different "love languages." A lot of this is psycho-babble, I know, but I think it is important to let people who love you know what you need, because most of the time, they want to give it to you and just don't know how. For instance, when I have a bad day, I go up to Sam, lift his arms up, and get in them. If he starts to pull away before I'm ready, I just say, "No. The hug is not over." Men can understand messages like this.
I'm not always so direct. The other day I noticed that the roses I had in my little bud vase were dying, so I said to Sam, "If you were thinking about surprising me with something today, I'm definitely NOT expecting a few stems of red carnations like the ones they sell at the stand down the street on the corner...that would be such a surprise." He didn't jump on this opportunity so at lunch I threw away the dead roses, filled my vase with clean water, and called attention to our lovely centerpiece. He agreed that it was nice, and I said, "yes, but don't you feel as if something might be missing?" Can you guess what my thoughtful husband surprised me with later that afternoon? I couldn't contain my amazement. It really was such a surprise.
In general, though, it's best to be very direct with men, so the other evening I told Sam he needed to use more pet names when addressing me. By "pet names," I mean terms of endearment, but Sam took me a little bit too literally, and now calls me "Spot."
Grad school is hard. It's a lot of work. Sometimes I wonder, why did I try so hard to get here? Why didn't I pick a major that would allow me to get a real job right out of college and then make a decent salary and live in some nice suburb and get a dog and have a baby? And a fireplace, I've always loved fireplaces...
Oh, well. This is where I am for now and maybe once I actually get to feeling like I know what I'm doing, I'll remember why I thought I wanted to do it.
The one thing I never question is why I married Sam. I've never really had any doubts about him. I love being married. I remember reading in a magazine once a long time ago about the 10 things people never tell you about marriage, or something like that. Most of them weren't that surprising, but the one I actually remember was that once you get married, you feel a stronger common identity with your spouse - you feel more embarrassed when they do something embarrassing, more proud when they do something impressive, etc. I think this is actually true and one of the few things that really changed much when we got married. It might be this that leads to the other thing that changed, which is that we argue a bit more than we used to.
Of course, what everybody always tells you is true is that you have to work hard to communicate with your spouse. Sometimes they have different "love languages." A lot of this is psycho-babble, I know, but I think it is important to let people who love you know what you need, because most of the time, they want to give it to you and just don't know how. For instance, when I have a bad day, I go up to Sam, lift his arms up, and get in them. If he starts to pull away before I'm ready, I just say, "No. The hug is not over." Men can understand messages like this.
I'm not always so direct. The other day I noticed that the roses I had in my little bud vase were dying, so I said to Sam, "If you were thinking about surprising me with something today, I'm definitely NOT expecting a few stems of red carnations like the ones they sell at the stand down the street on the corner...that would be such a surprise." He didn't jump on this opportunity so at lunch I threw away the dead roses, filled my vase with clean water, and called attention to our lovely centerpiece. He agreed that it was nice, and I said, "yes, but don't you feel as if something might be missing?" Can you guess what my thoughtful husband surprised me with later that afternoon? I couldn't contain my amazement. It really was such a surprise.
In general, though, it's best to be very direct with men, so the other evening I told Sam he needed to use more pet names when addressing me. By "pet names," I mean terms of endearment, but Sam took me a little bit too literally, and now calls me "Spot."
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
My Tuesday Commute
Starts with 6 blocks of walking, then three different subway trains, then another 1/2 mile of walking. It takes over an hour, and at the end of the day I have to do it over again.
My graduate assistantship, so far, means that I'm making a catalogue of books and assisting in research, which means working on bibliographies, getting books from the library, and helping to proofread things.
I have four classes, since I added French for Reading, and they are on three different campuses. I like the CUNY Graduate Center best, because it's on Fifth Avenue, and I get an irrational sense of importance when I go to Fifth Avenue and I'm actually supposed to be there. The Fordham Rose Hill campus is prettiest, but all the buildings look similar and I still get lost.
The nice thing about commuting on a subway is that you can use the time in ways you couldn't if you were driving. If it's not so crowded that I'm crammed in between a bunch of people (and trying to pretend I don't notice them, which is how New Yorkers seem to deal with this unnatural closeness between strangers) I usually read or write letters. It's harder to do homework, since for me that always involves balancing a dictionary, book, and notebook, but sometimes I try.
I seem to be spending less time in class than I did in undergrad, but a lot more time on homework, which I actually don't mind so much. It's weird for me that Sam isn't in school with me, and that he never has any homework. I guess it's probably weird for him, too. He went off with a friend today to visit the Natural Science Museum. I couldn't go because I have class soon.
But the weekend cometh! Last weekend I took Sam shopping for cool-weather clothes. He lasted the whole day. I found a warm-enough-even-for-winter coat and some non-flip-flops shoes that are actually comfortable enough to walk around the city in. It was a good day. I'm definitely not used to buying the kind of clothes you need in New York. Question: how much would you spend for a winter coat? I think Sam may have thought I spent too much on mine, but I figured it was something you shouldn't skimp on.
My graduate assistantship, so far, means that I'm making a catalogue of books and assisting in research, which means working on bibliographies, getting books from the library, and helping to proofread things.
I have four classes, since I added French for Reading, and they are on three different campuses. I like the CUNY Graduate Center best, because it's on Fifth Avenue, and I get an irrational sense of importance when I go to Fifth Avenue and I'm actually supposed to be there. The Fordham Rose Hill campus is prettiest, but all the buildings look similar and I still get lost.
The nice thing about commuting on a subway is that you can use the time in ways you couldn't if you were driving. If it's not so crowded that I'm crammed in between a bunch of people (and trying to pretend I don't notice them, which is how New Yorkers seem to deal with this unnatural closeness between strangers) I usually read or write letters. It's harder to do homework, since for me that always involves balancing a dictionary, book, and notebook, but sometimes I try.
I seem to be spending less time in class than I did in undergrad, but a lot more time on homework, which I actually don't mind so much. It's weird for me that Sam isn't in school with me, and that he never has any homework. I guess it's probably weird for him, too. He went off with a friend today to visit the Natural Science Museum. I couldn't go because I have class soon.
But the weekend cometh! Last weekend I took Sam shopping for cool-weather clothes. He lasted the whole day. I found a warm-enough-even-for-winter coat and some non-flip-flops shoes that are actually comfortable enough to walk around the city in. It was a good day. I'm definitely not used to buying the kind of clothes you need in New York. Question: how much would you spend for a winter coat? I think Sam may have thought I spent too much on mine, but I figured it was something you shouldn't skimp on.
Friday, August 7, 2009
A Displaced Southern Bell Navigates NYC
My classes don't actually start until September 2, so for these few weeks I'm adjusting to married life in this apartment.
The closest "supermarket" sells several fruits I don't recognize either by sight or by their Spanish names, but not parmesan cheese. Anybody have a good recipe involving quail eggs? I found yeast, finally, at a Kosher grocery store. There's also a tiny "gourmet" place that sells things with labels in alphabets I can't even read. I think it's mostly Turkish and maybe Russian things, but there was definitely some butter from Germany. Lots of marshmellow figures covered in chocolate.
Our apartment looks pretty cute with all of our new wedding presents and the slipcovered sofa and the bookshelves we put up. There are pictures on Facebook. My awesome in-laws helped us move. It's very small, so everything just fits and if one thing is out of place I feel like the whole apartment is a mess. Actually, though, it's decently-sized for NYC. We have a separate kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, and there's enough room in the living room for part of it to be the dining room. There were no blinds when we moved in, and all our windows face the courtyard, so everyone could see everything we were doing. We have curtains up now, but I wonder sometimes about the people that have lived here for a long time and have never done anything about window treatments. You can see into their places anytime you want. It's creepy. We also had to put in a small air conditioner. It's pretty humid here if not hot, and when we opened the windows to get a little breeze we also got all the smells and sounds of all our neighbors' lives.
One thing I learned that may be useful to anyone moving: those "thermal" curtains that say they block out light and help insulate your room so it stays cooler/warmer, really do work. We have them in the bedroom and it's usually the coolest room of the apartment, even without the ac on. When I first say them I thought probably all curtains do the same thing, but they don't. All window treatments are not created equal.
I have now found a fairly normal sized grocery store (about a 20-30 minute ride on the subway from my neighborhood) and have figured out how to get my laundry from the apartment to the laundromat. I use the little red cart-thing my mother in law bought us. It's kind of like something you'd see a homeless person using. But everyone uses it here, even cute people in their 30's and 20's. When I'm ironing, though, you can't really get from the living room to the bedroom or bathroom. My ironing board folds down from the door of our hall closet and blocks the way. I've also located the post-office box and got my NYC library card. We've found a church that we think we may like. It has two services. The one on Sunday nights is where a lot of graduate students and people our age go, and the one in the morning is mostly families. So far we've gone to the one at night but I think I might like to try both, because I like going to church with older people and little kids.
I've found that I'm kind of territorial in the kitchen. I've waited a long time to have my very own kitchen. I've also found that "what do you want for dinner?" is an impossible question to answer. I found this out when someone asked me this. So now I try to give Sam a couple of options to choose from. Much better results. Even restaurants offer choices rather than a blank, "what do you want?"
I'm having trouble getting my paperwork straight with Fordham. I need to let them know that I've legally changed my name before I fill out the payroll paperwork, but none of the numbers I call seem to result in an answer. They just let the phone ring forever and there's no answering machine. I also do not know where my classes are. Two of them will be on the CUNY campus (City University of New York - and there are a LOT of campuses). My registration doesn't list the place or instructer or what books I'm going to need. All I know is that they are in Manhattan, somewhere, and so am I.
Marriage is completely different from dating/being engaged, but it's mostly fun. We're coming up with our own family traditions. We eat breakfast for dinner on Friday nights, have Bible studies together, and don't answer our phones when we're eating together. I think what makes marriage different from dating is that when you're dating, you focus on all the things you have in common. When you're married, you have to confront all of the things you don't have in common and learn to reconcile your different ways of living, and working, and coping with stress, etc. And you have to face the reality that everything you do, every little weakness you indulge, affects someone else. It affects the person you most care about in the world.
Well, I should get back to studying. I'm trying to get prepared for graduate school. So intimidating. I'm also working my way through the many seasons of Seinfeld. I like it because it's a cheerful way of looking at New York.
p.s. - the shopping here is fabulous, and if anyone wants to visit me, we have a sleeper sofa and I would love the company. :-)
The closest "supermarket" sells several fruits I don't recognize either by sight or by their Spanish names, but not parmesan cheese. Anybody have a good recipe involving quail eggs? I found yeast, finally, at a Kosher grocery store. There's also a tiny "gourmet" place that sells things with labels in alphabets I can't even read. I think it's mostly Turkish and maybe Russian things, but there was definitely some butter from Germany. Lots of marshmellow figures covered in chocolate.
Our apartment looks pretty cute with all of our new wedding presents and the slipcovered sofa and the bookshelves we put up. There are pictures on Facebook. My awesome in-laws helped us move. It's very small, so everything just fits and if one thing is out of place I feel like the whole apartment is a mess. Actually, though, it's decently-sized for NYC. We have a separate kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, and there's enough room in the living room for part of it to be the dining room. There were no blinds when we moved in, and all our windows face the courtyard, so everyone could see everything we were doing. We have curtains up now, but I wonder sometimes about the people that have lived here for a long time and have never done anything about window treatments. You can see into their places anytime you want. It's creepy. We also had to put in a small air conditioner. It's pretty humid here if not hot, and when we opened the windows to get a little breeze we also got all the smells and sounds of all our neighbors' lives.
One thing I learned that may be useful to anyone moving: those "thermal" curtains that say they block out light and help insulate your room so it stays cooler/warmer, really do work. We have them in the bedroom and it's usually the coolest room of the apartment, even without the ac on. When I first say them I thought probably all curtains do the same thing, but they don't. All window treatments are not created equal.
I have now found a fairly normal sized grocery store (about a 20-30 minute ride on the subway from my neighborhood) and have figured out how to get my laundry from the apartment to the laundromat. I use the little red cart-thing my mother in law bought us. It's kind of like something you'd see a homeless person using. But everyone uses it here, even cute people in their 30's and 20's. When I'm ironing, though, you can't really get from the living room to the bedroom or bathroom. My ironing board folds down from the door of our hall closet and blocks the way. I've also located the post-office box and got my NYC library card. We've found a church that we think we may like. It has two services. The one on Sunday nights is where a lot of graduate students and people our age go, and the one in the morning is mostly families. So far we've gone to the one at night but I think I might like to try both, because I like going to church with older people and little kids.
I've found that I'm kind of territorial in the kitchen. I've waited a long time to have my very own kitchen. I've also found that "what do you want for dinner?" is an impossible question to answer. I found this out when someone asked me this. So now I try to give Sam a couple of options to choose from. Much better results. Even restaurants offer choices rather than a blank, "what do you want?"
I'm having trouble getting my paperwork straight with Fordham. I need to let them know that I've legally changed my name before I fill out the payroll paperwork, but none of the numbers I call seem to result in an answer. They just let the phone ring forever and there's no answering machine. I also do not know where my classes are. Two of them will be on the CUNY campus (City University of New York - and there are a LOT of campuses). My registration doesn't list the place or instructer or what books I'm going to need. All I know is that they are in Manhattan, somewhere, and so am I.
Marriage is completely different from dating/being engaged, but it's mostly fun. We're coming up with our own family traditions. We eat breakfast for dinner on Friday nights, have Bible studies together, and don't answer our phones when we're eating together. I think what makes marriage different from dating is that when you're dating, you focus on all the things you have in common. When you're married, you have to confront all of the things you don't have in common and learn to reconcile your different ways of living, and working, and coping with stress, etc. And you have to face the reality that everything you do, every little weakness you indulge, affects someone else. It affects the person you most care about in the world.
Well, I should get back to studying. I'm trying to get prepared for graduate school. So intimidating. I'm also working my way through the many seasons of Seinfeld. I like it because it's a cheerful way of looking at New York.
p.s. - the shopping here is fabulous, and if anyone wants to visit me, we have a sleeper sofa and I would love the company. :-)
Friday, July 3, 2009
Reflections on marriage from the new Mrs. Cole
I'm married! And, after nearly a week, starting to feel like it.
The wedding was crazy stressful up till about 2 hours beforehand, and then it was like a very fast-moving dream. My bridesmaids and other friends are absolutely the most wonderful people in the world, and proved it once again by the amazing job they did taking care of me that day and making everything beautiful with their lovely selves, voices, and thoughtfulness. I'd be the luckiest girl in the world even if I didn't have Sam, because of them! Although the wedding would have been awkward. :-) Either my friends, family, or Sam alone would be enough to make me the luckiest girl, but the combination of all three makes me triply ridiculously blessed. Sarah, Sara, Sarah, Amanda, Lulu, Brie, Julia, Lillian, Stephanie, Hannah, Erica, Jessi - ya'll are amazing and I hope I can be there for you, too, someday, wedding or otherwise.
We are still on our honeymoon in Portland, Oregon. Sam says that it is the most depressed city in the US, according to some statistics or other. I think I'm starting to see why. It's very post-modern. Within walking distance of our hotel there are restaurants of every ethnicity you could think of (including Irish, German, Lebonese and Bosnian). Almost everybody dresses in that weird, hippy/goth kind of way, as if they were trying to be individualistic, but they all look so much the same that they cease to be interesting. Sam's favorite quote is true - "chaos is dull." There's something very unconnected about everything. The Japanese and Chinese gardens here are supposed to be the most authentic in North America. It's as if the people in Portland have sort of re-created "authentic" cultural experiences from all around the world, but don't realize they lost something in the translation. This is really hard to say. It's a beautiful city but I can sort of sense the ennui. Maybe what they lost was a sense of connectedness to the art (including culinary) that makes the culture meaningful. I think that's what's depressing about post-modernism. Things don't seem to mean anything anymore.
On another note, our hotel is fabulous! It's very old-fashioned with bell boys and each person at the desk is also a concierge, and there is a beautiful restaurant and bar in the lobby. It's themed on Old Hollywood, which we were afraid might be cheesy, but they did it very well. And we both love old movies! The other night we watched Casa Blanca, which is very romantic and meaningful for us, because it was right after watching it for the first time that I first told Sam that I loved him, too. That was about a year ago now.
I have so many other stories...honeymoons are awesome. We've decided we'd like to honeymoon for a living, and write a book called "How to Honeymoon Like a Pro" (the irony is, of course, that no one is actually a professional at honeymooning). :-)
The subway is interesting. People seem to forget that they are in public and have the most awkward conversations. They fight and cry and complain about their 6 kids and invite you out to the Irish Pub practically in one breath.
More on honeymoon later. I never finished that scrapbook so I've decided to start writing my love story here, in small pieces. Those who are squeamish about sap are advised to read with caution.
Sam and I met in the beloved "Lounge of Destiny," the nickname for the Classics Department Lounge. But before we met we had a Religion class together. There were about 40 students and we sat on opposite sides of the room. But some enchanted evening - I mean Monday morning at about 11:00, when our class started, Sam and I noticed each other, across a classroom crowded with bored students. For me it was a quickly-developed crush, although we hadn't met. I thought he was very cute and noticed that when he asked or answered questions in class they were thoughtful and well-phrased. Plus he knew Latin and had a proper respect for the philosophers I liked. Sam told me later that he thought I was the prettiest girl in the class and that when he saw me, he actually started wondering if love at first sight were possible. He thought about going home and saying to his roommate, "I saw this girl in Religion and I'm going to marry her." This is the kind of thing someone in a movie might have actually said. But Sam is far too rational, and told himself that he was being irrational, and that it wasn't good to like someone based only on physical appearance.
:-)
I think that's funny.
The wedding was crazy stressful up till about 2 hours beforehand, and then it was like a very fast-moving dream. My bridesmaids and other friends are absolutely the most wonderful people in the world, and proved it once again by the amazing job they did taking care of me that day and making everything beautiful with their lovely selves, voices, and thoughtfulness. I'd be the luckiest girl in the world even if I didn't have Sam, because of them! Although the wedding would have been awkward. :-) Either my friends, family, or Sam alone would be enough to make me the luckiest girl, but the combination of all three makes me triply ridiculously blessed. Sarah, Sara, Sarah, Amanda, Lulu, Brie, Julia, Lillian, Stephanie, Hannah, Erica, Jessi - ya'll are amazing and I hope I can be there for you, too, someday, wedding or otherwise.
We are still on our honeymoon in Portland, Oregon. Sam says that it is the most depressed city in the US, according to some statistics or other. I think I'm starting to see why. It's very post-modern. Within walking distance of our hotel there are restaurants of every ethnicity you could think of (including Irish, German, Lebonese and Bosnian). Almost everybody dresses in that weird, hippy/goth kind of way, as if they were trying to be individualistic, but they all look so much the same that they cease to be interesting. Sam's favorite quote is true - "chaos is dull." There's something very unconnected about everything. The Japanese and Chinese gardens here are supposed to be the most authentic in North America. It's as if the people in Portland have sort of re-created "authentic" cultural experiences from all around the world, but don't realize they lost something in the translation. This is really hard to say. It's a beautiful city but I can sort of sense the ennui. Maybe what they lost was a sense of connectedness to the art (including culinary) that makes the culture meaningful. I think that's what's depressing about post-modernism. Things don't seem to mean anything anymore.
On another note, our hotel is fabulous! It's very old-fashioned with bell boys and each person at the desk is also a concierge, and there is a beautiful restaurant and bar in the lobby. It's themed on Old Hollywood, which we were afraid might be cheesy, but they did it very well. And we both love old movies! The other night we watched Casa Blanca, which is very romantic and meaningful for us, because it was right after watching it for the first time that I first told Sam that I loved him, too. That was about a year ago now.
I have so many other stories...honeymoons are awesome. We've decided we'd like to honeymoon for a living, and write a book called "How to Honeymoon Like a Pro" (the irony is, of course, that no one is actually a professional at honeymooning). :-)
The subway is interesting. People seem to forget that they are in public and have the most awkward conversations. They fight and cry and complain about their 6 kids and invite you out to the Irish Pub practically in one breath.
More on honeymoon later. I never finished that scrapbook so I've decided to start writing my love story here, in small pieces. Those who are squeamish about sap are advised to read with caution.
Sam and I met in the beloved "Lounge of Destiny," the nickname for the Classics Department Lounge. But before we met we had a Religion class together. There were about 40 students and we sat on opposite sides of the room. But some enchanted evening - I mean Monday morning at about 11:00, when our class started, Sam and I noticed each other, across a classroom crowded with bored students. For me it was a quickly-developed crush, although we hadn't met. I thought he was very cute and noticed that when he asked or answered questions in class they were thoughtful and well-phrased. Plus he knew Latin and had a proper respect for the philosophers I liked. Sam told me later that he thought I was the prettiest girl in the class and that when he saw me, he actually started wondering if love at first sight were possible. He thought about going home and saying to his roommate, "I saw this girl in Religion and I'm going to marry her." This is the kind of thing someone in a movie might have actually said. But Sam is far too rational, and told himself that he was being irrational, and that it wasn't good to like someone based only on physical appearance.
:-)
I think that's funny.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Story Time
Last week I had my first wedding nightmare.
We were getting ready to start the processional for the ceremony, at a church I didn't recognize. It was one of those huge circular or semi-circular churches with about a million different aisles, and we weren't sure which one we were supposed to enter. We weren't sure which bridesmaid was supposed to go first, either, or when she was supposed to go. Stephanie and Lillian kept poking their heads out to see and looked ridiculous until finally they all went. Then I told Matthew to go, and he promptly took off in the direction of the choir pit, not to be seen again.
Then it was my turn, I assumed, but then I realized that my dad wasn't there. It took me a while to find him and then he looked at me and was like, "why are you in those clothes? why aren't you wearing your dress? Go put your dress on!" And I looked down and thought, now this is interesting, why am I not in my dres? So I put it on and then realized that it was not my dress. It was a very cute Jane Austin style dress with an empire waist and long sleeves, and the bodice was a yellowy cream color and the rest was white. But it certainly wasn't my wedding dress and I came out and I was like, "Dad, I don't think this is my dress." And he got really impatient like I was being ridiculously picky and was like, "Ashley, just wear that dress and stop worrying. We have to go!" So we went down the long, long aisle.
When we got to the altar there was another couple in the middle of their ceremony! I was really embarassed and started ackwardly backing up, and I turned to my dad and said, "why did we come so early? It isn't even our turn yet!" Then I looked at the bridesmaids.
There were six girls in dresses of the correct cornflower hue, and three or four other girls, whom I didn't recognize, in their own dresses of various patterns, standing with the bridesmaids and talking to them. But I didn't recognize two or three of the bridesmaids, either, so I asked them who they were. Then Sara Garrett, with exaggerated patience, said to me, "well, Ashley, Erica couldn't make it, so she sent a replacement. But she fits the dress." And then I asked who the other girls were. The unidentified bridemaids explained that they had brought friends along to talk to in case they got bored. Then I asked Erica's representative what her name was and she said, "Ashley Diane."
But that's my name.
But that's my name.
Right before I woke up I remember being relieved to think that maybe it wasn't the real wedding, but only the rehearsal, and then I was relieved to realize it was only a dream. Apparently I should have asked Erica to be a bridesmaid, although I sincerely hope, Erica, that you come yourself and don't send some replacement who has my name as a hostess. I want to see your very own face! :-)
A couple of nights ago I had a sequel to this wedding nightmare. It was set during the reception. I'm not sure what I was wearing but I remember thinking it couldn't have been my beautiful white gown because everyone was ignoring me. It was like it was Sam's party and not mine at all. I didn't even seem to be there in the capacity of his girlfriend, let alone his bride. Sam did all the cake cutting and everything and was being toasted and cheered and he ignored me along with the rest of the guests, most of whom I didn't know. So I got some cake and drinks with Sara and Sarah and we went to a little corner and ate and I think had a really nice girl talk, like old times. Then suddenly the reception was over and the party was breaking up and I realized I was supposed to go with Sam on his honeymoon and suddenly I got really angry, and thought, (sarcastically) "this guy's going to have a really fun honeymoon after what he did to me! I'm not even going to speak to him the next 11 days!" Then I woke up.
Sam has assured me he will not forget about me at our wedding.
I really wanted to post some wedding-planning pictures I've been taking, but in moving from the dorm I seem to have misplaced the cord that lets me get pictures from my camera to my computer, so here's what I have. They are of me at the opera in January, of my desk while I was writing the thesis, of me with my future sister-in-law and of course, of the back of my dress!
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