It's Christmas night, and I am sitting in my parents' study typing this blog entry. I'm here because after 2 hours of familial bonding, which includes the drive from the airport, I have been exiled from the family room by my parents' need to watch their Korean "dramas."
Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I imagined my return to California would be heralded by trumpets. Streamers and and confetti would litter the air. Neighbors would line the streets and say. "Why there goes ET#1, the youngest of J and S. She's come alls the ways from the East Coast."
I guess I would think that because since my last visit (this summer), my family complained of my lack of face time home. On the phone they would say, "We miss you." Or "Your niece is so big now, you would hardly recognize her." Or my favorite, "ET#1, phone home." "May be it was "come home," but you get the jist.
I have been doing this journey home for 17 + years now. Why I have never lived where the rest of my family is, is a mystery but that is the way the cookie crumbled. Maybe my arrival is just old news and that is why I am in the study right now.
Maybe it is not a big deal because that you can always go home. Admittedly, this is not my home, this is the house my parents moved into three years ago, but where ever they are feels like home. As soon as I got into San Jose Airport and realized that they were late (yet again), I felt that annoyance that flashes up when you are a teenager and everything your parents do irritates you. The fact that I am 30 and perfectly capable of helping myself, but instead had my 68 year old mother serve me dinner. And that tonight I took a bath, something I never do in my apartment, and read a chapter from a marked up copy of the "The Pawn of Prophecy" I bought at the library book fair in the 7th grade.
So from the study at my home, "Feliz Navidad, Joyes Noel, Frohe Weinachten...."
Monday, December 25, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Time Magazine Person of the Year: ME
On "This Week with George Stephanopolous," George Will dismissed bloggers as narcisists because besides fulfilling one's ego what was the value of posting one's diary/opinions on the internet.
For a moment there, I felt a little guilty. That was ME. I was a blogger, who constantly spills her guts about that boy who did not e-mail me back (like the astrophysicist of last week), who gives my opinion on Dunkin' Donuts coffee, who tells about her travels to Japan. So am I a narcisist?
Yes. My vanity was further proven by the fact that I planned to make a mock "Time" cover with a picture of ET#2 and myself, but could not find one in which we were either both sober or cute. Initially, the blog was started out sloth. It was an easy way of letting our friends know what we were doing. But it is possible that over the year and half we've blogged, it might have moved from one deadly sin to another.
I once told my mother (in a smart ass triumph) that if the universe was infinite doesn't that mean I am the center of the universe, that you could pick any point and that could be the center of the universe? Of course, if the astrophysicist had ever e-mailed me back he could explain the falicy of that argument, but he never did so.....
Please, George Will comes on television every week and writes his column in a paper and sometimes makes references to his own life and always is free with his opinions on the state of our nation. Is he just jealous that others can do it too? (Well, don't worry George, I don't get paid for it)
Despite what George Will thinks, I am going to believe that the five people who actually check this website, care that I went to the Garden saw Matsusaka drop the puck at the Bruins game. I am going to believe that they will laugh when they read a very shy assistant professor said in a loud voice in front of my boss, "ET#1, I am always surprised in your ability to ask questions in seminar because you are always sleeping." And that they will clap their hands, when they read I got a pair of snow boots marked down from $210 to $40. Well, maybe not so much the last one.
Basically, all I wanted to say this Monday was "George Will, kiss my grits."
For a moment there, I felt a little guilty. That was ME. I was a blogger, who constantly spills her guts about that boy who did not e-mail me back (like the astrophysicist of last week), who gives my opinion on Dunkin' Donuts coffee, who tells about her travels to Japan. So am I a narcisist?
Yes. My vanity was further proven by the fact that I planned to make a mock "Time" cover with a picture of ET#2 and myself, but could not find one in which we were either both sober or cute. Initially, the blog was started out sloth. It was an easy way of letting our friends know what we were doing. But it is possible that over the year and half we've blogged, it might have moved from one deadly sin to another.
I once told my mother (in a smart ass triumph) that if the universe was infinite doesn't that mean I am the center of the universe, that you could pick any point and that could be the center of the universe? Of course, if the astrophysicist had ever e-mailed me back he could explain the falicy of that argument, but he never did so.....
Please, George Will comes on television every week and writes his column in a paper and sometimes makes references to his own life and always is free with his opinions on the state of our nation. Is he just jealous that others can do it too? (Well, don't worry George, I don't get paid for it)
Despite what George Will thinks, I am going to believe that the five people who actually check this website, care that I went to the Garden saw Matsusaka drop the puck at the Bruins game. I am going to believe that they will laugh when they read a very shy assistant professor said in a loud voice in front of my boss, "ET#1, I am always surprised in your ability to ask questions in seminar because you are always sleeping." And that they will clap their hands, when they read I got a pair of snow boots marked down from $210 to $40. Well, maybe not so much the last one.
Basically, all I wanted to say this Monday was "George Will, kiss my grits."
Monday, December 11, 2006
Like, totally, he passed me a note in study hall
Ah ... junior high. I was in it for only one year, the 7th grade. Maybe that is why I revert back to that era ever once in a while. I just never got my fill. It was full of intrigue and when boys and girls started to go steady with each other. (Although nowadays my 2 and half year old niece has a boyfriend, meaning they start out much earlier.) But when I was in school, we thought boys were icky until we got into Junior High. 7th grade was the year that MB gave me my first Camel Light cigarette; the year MB and JR showed me their hickeys in gym class; the year ES (with his dad driving) took me to the Spring semi-formal and we danced to Kenny Loggins' "Meet Me Halfway."
Last Saturday, N and D threw a Winter Solstice party, the first holiday party of the season. With no holiday fatigue, I was excited abut going. V mentioned that she wanted to go shopping to find something to cute to wear to the party. Hmmm cute. Well, from that innocent comment I somehow interpreted I needed to get dressed up for the party. So I donned my gay apparrel: my roomate's black fitted sweater, a gold and cream boucle skirt, and gold brocade shoes. Even though I was overdressed, sometimes fate steps in and rewards your small vacation from jeans.
In walked in a balding 6'3" boy with jeans and an button down shirt. He started talking with me, D and A in the kitchen. I think all he wanted was a beer, but somehow got sucked into a conversation about the "Elegant Universe." He went away into the living room and started playing card games with the other members of the party. I stayed in the kitchen to discuss evolution and homosexuality with S, the new Burger King XBox 360 games with H, and other miscellaneous cocktail hour topics.
It turns out the 6'3" boy was an astrophysicist, associate professor at MIT. He rode a motorcycle, and we talked about bikes for a while. I have been banned from riding motorcycles from my friends and family mainly because I am the worst driver on the planet and the uncertainty of me on a bike is likely to be a deadly combination. He was nice enough and at the end of the night he offered to give me a ride on his motocycle whenever I wanted.
And here is where I go from 30 years old to 12. I went running with D the next morning, and our conversation went something like this:
D: So like, I saw you talking with my friend, the astrophysicist.
ET#1: Yeah he was cool.
D: I think he was like totally flirting with you.
ET#1: Like, oh my God. Like no way.
D: Um like totally.
ET#1: Well, he did say I could ride on the back of his bike like anytime.
D: Hellloooo. Earth to, ET#1. He was so macking on you.
ET#1: Is he like available? Is he looking for friend friends, or like girlfriend friends?
Basically, we came to no conclusion at the end of that conversation. D did inform me though that the astrophyscist did want to hang out and he like trivia night.
Now, I love trivia and I love games. Admittedly, I am slightly competitive, but what game is fun if winning has no meaning. In a bold move I invited the astrophysicist to trivia night at the Publick House. I also invited, B, S, C and Ch.
Yup, that's right folks. I invited the astrophysicist out on a group date. I think the last time I went on a group date, I went to Leominster Mall 15 years ago. A bar is kind of a step up. Right?
Last night, I was on edge. I wanted to make sure we got a table at the Publick House. I convinced N and D not to come, because I thought they would make me nervous. I nearly bit C's head off when he would not stop giving me a hard time.
The astrophysicist did arrive before the game started. In the nick of time. Luckily, the game started right away so there was no time for weirdness. Or maybe I was too focussed on the game to observe it. "Act a little stupid," was P's advice earlier that day. But homey does not know how to play that game.
The night was group date fun. We laughed, drank beer, and ate lots of fried foods. As the night progressed, he and I talked about his family, and how he was born in ths same town I lived in. He too had hiked the Lost Coast. We made a bet over who was right on one of the questions. He owes me a beer at some undisclosed time. At the end of the night, after a close 4th place finished, he pat my leg underneath the table. Like, oh my God, he touched my leg.
As he rode his motocycle down Beacon Street, I was walking home with Ch. I skipped along and asked didn't she think he was cute and didn't she like the part where he said this and didn't he have like a nice smile and did she think he would ask me out sometime.
Who knows what will happen? But isn't like awesome to feel like you are twelve again?
Last Saturday, N and D threw a Winter Solstice party, the first holiday party of the season. With no holiday fatigue, I was excited abut going. V mentioned that she wanted to go shopping to find something to cute to wear to the party. Hmmm cute. Well, from that innocent comment I somehow interpreted I needed to get dressed up for the party. So I donned my gay apparrel: my roomate's black fitted sweater, a gold and cream boucle skirt, and gold brocade shoes. Even though I was overdressed, sometimes fate steps in and rewards your small vacation from jeans.
In walked in a balding 6'3" boy with jeans and an button down shirt. He started talking with me, D and A in the kitchen. I think all he wanted was a beer, but somehow got sucked into a conversation about the "Elegant Universe." He went away into the living room and started playing card games with the other members of the party. I stayed in the kitchen to discuss evolution and homosexuality with S, the new Burger King XBox 360 games with H, and other miscellaneous cocktail hour topics.
It turns out the 6'3" boy was an astrophysicist, associate professor at MIT. He rode a motorcycle, and we talked about bikes for a while. I have been banned from riding motorcycles from my friends and family mainly because I am the worst driver on the planet and the uncertainty of me on a bike is likely to be a deadly combination. He was nice enough and at the end of the night he offered to give me a ride on his motocycle whenever I wanted.
And here is where I go from 30 years old to 12. I went running with D the next morning, and our conversation went something like this:
D: So like, I saw you talking with my friend, the astrophysicist.
ET#1: Yeah he was cool.
D: I think he was like totally flirting with you.
ET#1: Like, oh my God. Like no way.
D: Um like totally.
ET#1: Well, he did say I could ride on the back of his bike like anytime.
D: Hellloooo. Earth to, ET#1. He was so macking on you.
ET#1: Is he like available? Is he looking for friend friends, or like girlfriend friends?
Basically, we came to no conclusion at the end of that conversation. D did inform me though that the astrophyscist did want to hang out and he like trivia night.
Now, I love trivia and I love games. Admittedly, I am slightly competitive, but what game is fun if winning has no meaning. In a bold move I invited the astrophysicist to trivia night at the Publick House. I also invited, B, S, C and Ch.
Yup, that's right folks. I invited the astrophysicist out on a group date. I think the last time I went on a group date, I went to Leominster Mall 15 years ago. A bar is kind of a step up. Right?
Last night, I was on edge. I wanted to make sure we got a table at the Publick House. I convinced N and D not to come, because I thought they would make me nervous. I nearly bit C's head off when he would not stop giving me a hard time.
The astrophysicist did arrive before the game started. In the nick of time. Luckily, the game started right away so there was no time for weirdness. Or maybe I was too focussed on the game to observe it. "Act a little stupid," was P's advice earlier that day. But homey does not know how to play that game.
The night was group date fun. We laughed, drank beer, and ate lots of fried foods. As the night progressed, he and I talked about his family, and how he was born in ths same town I lived in. He too had hiked the Lost Coast. We made a bet over who was right on one of the questions. He owes me a beer at some undisclosed time. At the end of the night, after a close 4th place finished, he pat my leg underneath the table. Like, oh my God, he touched my leg.
As he rode his motocycle down Beacon Street, I was walking home with Ch. I skipped along and asked didn't she think he was cute and didn't she like the part where he said this and didn't he have like a nice smile and did she think he would ask me out sometime.
Who knows what will happen? But isn't like awesome to feel like you are twelve again?
Monday, December 04, 2006
Quarterly Notes
For five formative years, I attended a preppy New England boarding school. Much time has passed, but those ties still bind. The alumni association is on par to the CIA, perhaps even better. They know I have moved before I have, and always have my events calendar, fundraising solicitations, and other mailings waiting for me at my new mailbox.
The most notable mailing is the Quarterly. As the name states, it is issued 4 times a year. In it, there are small stories people have written, a summary of the school events, successes of the alumni, etc.. When I get the Quarterly, I am assuming I do what everyone; flip to the "Form Notes" section. Form Notes is a collection of "happenings" of all the members of your graduating class, with their names in bold print for easy scanning to find former friends and enemies.
Before the Quarterly goes out in press, a series of e-mails from our form secretary, comes streaming into my inbox soliciting news. I had stopped submitting notes when I realized that none of them were getting published. Apparently some high school rivalries never go away, but that is a story for another time. On a whim, I submitted an entry mentioning last summer. To my surprise my news made the notes. Sadly, T basically just cut and paste my e-mail, within the text of all the wedding/baby/job promotion news.
On Friday I got the following e-mail:
Hi ET#1,
How are you? I hope all is well.
I'm at work (grad school). I'm always at work. It's great. "I like it
here." I don't sleep so I can be here! Yay!
I think I read in the quarterly that you said you resigned yourself to
being a student forever or something like that - I can relate. Not as
much as some of my friends though (8-10 years in), so I can't really
complain.
Hope you finish soon, if you haven't already. My boss did it (Harvard
alum "with two young children and a husband..."). She likes to motivate
me by telling me that. It's wonderful ("wonderful.")
Anyhoo, I must get back to work. I just wanted to let you know, you are
not alone (or were not, in case you have graduated - and if that was you
who said that, my memory sucks LOL.)
Good luck and Happy Holidays!
"R's ridiculous nickname in high school" (2006 Journal of Not writing my abstract... Review. Keywords:
Grad school is long.)
PS If you happen to be looking to post-doc down here (Houston), or get
to a job, or whatever, and you need a place to crash, just let me know.
I've got a spare room with a queen size and its own bathroom (beware of
cats and live-in.) Although, I think most places around here will put
you up in a nice hotel. Later.
R and I were friends in high school, but not someone I think about in daily life now. Yet somehow getting this e-mail from him, has left me with a fuzzy good feeling all weekend.
The most notable mailing is the Quarterly. As the name states, it is issued 4 times a year. In it, there are small stories people have written, a summary of the school events, successes of the alumni, etc.. When I get the Quarterly, I am assuming I do what everyone; flip to the "Form Notes" section. Form Notes is a collection of "happenings" of all the members of your graduating class, with their names in bold print for easy scanning to find former friends and enemies.
Before the Quarterly goes out in press, a series of e-mails from our form secretary, comes streaming into my inbox soliciting news. I had stopped submitting notes when I realized that none of them were getting published. Apparently some high school rivalries never go away, but that is a story for another time. On a whim, I submitted an entry mentioning last summer. To my surprise my news made the notes. Sadly, T basically just cut and paste my e-mail, within the text of all the wedding/baby/job promotion news.
On Friday I got the following e-mail:
Hi ET#1,
How are you? I hope all is well.
I'm at work (grad school). I'm always at work. It's great. "I like it
here." I don't sleep so I can be here! Yay!
I think I read in the quarterly that you said you resigned yourself to
being a student forever or something like that - I can relate. Not as
much as some of my friends though (8-10 years in), so I can't really
complain.
Hope you finish soon, if you haven't already. My boss did it (Harvard
alum "with two young children and a husband..."). She likes to motivate
me by telling me that. It's wonderful ("wonderful.")
Anyhoo, I must get back to work. I just wanted to let you know, you are
not alone (or were not, in case you have graduated - and if that was you
who said that, my memory sucks LOL.)
Good luck and Happy Holidays!
"R's ridiculous nickname in high school" (2006 Journal of Not writing my abstract... Review. Keywords:
Grad school is long.)
PS If you happen to be looking to post-doc down here (Houston), or get
to a job, or whatever, and you need a place to crash, just let me know.
I've got a spare room with a queen size and its own bathroom (beware of
cats and live-in.) Although, I think most places around here will put
you up in a nice hotel. Later.
R and I were friends in high school, but not someone I think about in daily life now. Yet somehow getting this e-mail from him, has left me with a fuzzy good feeling all weekend.
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