on nerdcamp. on randomness. on eating veggie. 15 June 2008

I love nerd camp.
Nowhere else do I get to see 330 kids do Japanese Taiso on MU’s quad in the morning, teach a class and watch students get excited about writing / designing the MSA newspaper, hold a discussion on facebook and philanthropy (learning some cool new websites for myself in the process), see a steel drum band (did you know they originated in Trinidad and Tobago?), sit in a master class with Missouri’s Poet Laureate, all in one day.

It’s the happiest place on earth, but I’m also exhausted. You may have noticed I haven’t written in two weeks. The days here are so long, and yet the weeks fly by so fast.

 

So I’ve had a lot on my mind in the last two weeks (obviously. I’m working at a camp made of, by, and for gifted people…)

One theme that keeps popping up in my life is randomness. Mainly the complete randomness of friendship, and the random appearance of inspiration. Some examples:

1) Amanda and I went to a “The Network” event a few weeks ago, and sampled wine with other young professionals. I giggle at that term, “young professional”, though I suppose it applies. I am young. I am employed. I am trying my best to be successful and involved in the community. I own more than one pair of The Editor pants.
Anyway, we’re having a grand old time sampling wine and pretending to be grown up, and I start thinking about how strange it is that we came to be friends. We didn’t live in the same dorm freshman year, but we started to know each other because we both chose to take tap-dancing as our 1 hour activity credit. (Yes, destined to be BFFs.) We were acquaintances freshman year thanks to that, and then randomly ran into each other at the pre-class BBQ sophomore year. We sat with some friends and watched the fireworks (Drury! Nostalgia!) and then decided to meet for lunch the next day…and we met for lunch ever after.

2) I was apartment hunting in between meetings one day, walking near the square, and this cute little family stops me saying, “are you from the area?” and asks how to get to the nearest Braums. I point them in the right direction. Later that same night, I’m walking back to my car after A Midsummer Night’s Dream, feeling all warm and happy, and this car-ful of girls calls out to me, over the blasting Rihanna, “do you know how to get to Icon?” Why yes, yes I do. I’m cooler than I seem. Let me point you in the right direction.
Neither of these moments really had all that much significance, I realize, but I tend to pull significance out of the smallest corners of the day. It just made me really happy to imagine being a citizen of downtown, and knowing it’s my neighborhood. Let me show you around.

3) Finally, one night I was running to Dillon’s for some late-night grocery essentials, around 9:00, and I happened to overhear a conversation taking place near the display patio furniture. Some employees were taking their smoke break, and one of them was telling a story: “My son got the strangest voicemail the other day. Got it traced, and the number was in the Marshall Islands. All it is, is this foreign guy saying LIFE! LIFE! LIFE!”

The randomness of life is so beautiful. Every day 10,000 poems go unnoticed.

 

Ok so next. Love. Oh, if this isn’t on my mind at MSA and anyplace else… I really am working on curbing the obsession, and I’m making good progress. I didn’t read too much into the fact that the short films I liked the most at The Animation Show were the ones about awkward love. But seriously, watch this one.  (um…don’t watch it at work!)

In trying to think less about love, I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot. I’d like to think that it’s in a more healthy way. In observing how my mind works, hopefully I can figure out what isn’t working, and fix it before I get anywhere near a relationship again.
For instance, I had a little epiphany at the eye doctor last week. Will reserve any metaphors about “seeing clearly” and what not. But I’ve been thinking lately (partly thanks to Eckhart Tolle, partly thanks to various hit-and-miss boy situations, partly thanks to MSA and all the amazing people it brings my way) that I could be “in love” with everyone. Now I don’t mean that literally, of course. What I mean is the intense interest, the heart-pounding excitement at life I can feel while talking to someone, should not be reserved for those I’m “in luv” with…this is a big lesson to learn: that connections with ALL people can be valuable, because all people are valuable. And we are all connected. Knowing this also makes those near-misses easier. I don’t need just ONE person to fulfill my need for relationship. (well, some good old fashioned monogamy and all that goes with it is what I ultimately want…hear that, universe?) But there’s something about community. Something about being open to sharing life with everyone I meet. Being open to recognize the LIFE that is within them.

Hm.

 

Ok one more thing. Decided the day before I left, over a delicious turkey sandwich at the Mudhouse, that I was going to try to eat vegetarian at MSA. At least one meal each day, if not entirely. I tried it for a week at MSA 06, after watching Supersize Me and reading Fast Food Nation at the same time. I love the IDEA of being vegetarian, for the health benefits, ecological consequences, animal right issues, all of it. I also think the structure of cafeteria food, though its selection may not be the best, is at least outside my routine, and so this is a good time to attempt something new. It’s actually been going really well. I think I’ve only caved TWICE this week. One chicken sandwich, and maybe some fish here and there. I’m not letting myself become smug, and I’m trying to not make too big a spectacle of it…though I am pretty excited. I’m falling in love with tofu. I’m all about hummus. I’m digging the leafy greens.

i couldn’t help but wonder 30 May 2008

It is past 3:00 a.m., and with the weekend I have ahead of me (bachelorette weekend! wine! friends! catching up!) I should be asleep.  But for good reason I’m not tired.

Just saw The Sex and The City Movie, and it is perfect.  It is all that I hoped it would be, and I can’t wait to see it again with any and all friends who would like to.

Leaving the theater, chattering with 2 girlfriends of mine, I was caught up in the buzz of excited voices, 100 other friendships blending together in the hallway.  The EXPERIENCE of this movie is every bit as enjoyable as the movie itself.  The moments of spontaneous applause.  Collective shock.  Full House soundtrack-like “ooooh”s.  Delicious.

 

At a scene near the very end (which I can’t reveal, for fear of spoiling)  I was crying, for reasons bigger than the movie…and that’s when I realized a bunch of different things at once.

This movie IS bigger than the movie.  For me, what makes this whole thing meaningful is so much more than shoes and romantic plots and snappy dialogue.  

I feel like these characters are friends, in a way, in that I can see bits of myself in each of them.  In their flaws, their failures, their friendships, their f*ing things up, their figuring things out. 

Sitting there, tearing up in the theater, I realized this moment and this show are about friendship. Hokey as it sounds.  Not the friendships in the show, though they are fun to watch, but my friends.  The episodes we’ve watched over glasses of wine, the trivia games, the ex-boyfriend comparisons, the “that reminds me of the episode…” moments.  It’s all silly, I know, but it’s also REAL.  This show is something I’ve shared with many of my friends, and thousands of strangers.

The show is about so much more than shoes. 

It’s about how men can do terrible, unforgiveable things in relationships. 
It’s about how women can absolutely do the same.
It’s about how sometimes two people can seem to have it all together, but inside be falling apart.
It’s about how sometimes two people have every reason to fall apart, but find a way to stick together.
It’s about making the same mistake until you finally learn from it.
It’s about second chances.
It’s about PUNS. Glorious, snarky, eye-rolling puns.
It’s about WRITING.
And yes, it’s also quite a bit about shoes.

So I cried, feeling all those things in one split second, and realizing also for all the 100s of reasons that are more complicated, this is perhaps the most easy to explain:  Jason and I will never work because this is a moment (this movie, these feelings) he wouldn’t understand.

I recall a fight we had A LONG time ago (long enough ago that I would’ve been defending Spongebob Squarepants.  Oh, 19-year-old me…) when we weren’t getting along, and I was making friends with a boy who got along with me quite well. I liked Spongebob, as did this friend, and Jason did not. I don’t remember any details really except for him saying, “you would break up with me over Spongebob F*cking Squarepants?!”

And I didn’t then.
But I would now.  

Coulda Woulda Shoulda.

 

 

 

 

I’m kind of in love 13 May 2008

Now don’t get any ideas, dear reader.  It is springtime in Springtown, and what with all the green grass and bunnies hopping and clear nights fit for strolling, a single girl’s in extreme danger of getting a little antsy.  But the love I’m talking about has nothing to do with a boy, and everything to do with just hanging out with me, and some totally amazing excellent discoveries.

 

1)  Park Central Library

I had some time to kill between meetings downtown last week, so I decided to kill it in the new downtown library. And I’m totally in love.  I can’t wait for the semester to end so I can spend some quality time with my computer and my Italy guidebooks and feel 10x cooler than I am while doing it.  (It’s that kind of place.)

I’m reminded, of course, of my first love:  Christian County Library in Ozark.  When I was pre-kindergarten-ish, mom would take me to story time in the kids section. 

This is where I memorized Old Hat New Hat before I was old enough to read. 

This is where I had my first experience at laughing out loud at a book, some book of poetry about vegetables…I don’t even remember the title, but I remember how excited I was to discover I could take it home.

This is the first place I put together “books” and “magical”, and somehow between the huge paper mache dinosaur, and the friendly little old ladies, and the story-themed costume parties, it stuck.

I’m still kind of in love with libraries.  I love holding a book from the Drury library that hasn’t been stamped checked out in eight years. 
Twenty years.

It’s just been waiting, all this time, for me. 

 

2)  RadioLab

I think I might just have a new favorite podcast.  It’s funny, smart, interesting, tells a good story, teaches good facts.  (Shoot. If it gave good hugs and looked good in shorts I’d ask it to marry me.)

RadioLab from WNYC is the perfect blend of nerdiness and “woah cool!” facts and humor and human connection.  Seriously. Stop reading and go to iTunes and download one.  I started with “Stress” and moved next to “Laughter”.

(A highlight:  female baboons prefer “Alan Alda” to “Schwarzenegger” males. “When it comes to evolution, nice guys do not finish last.”  Oh this makes no sense, you say?  Trust me.)

Of course I’m reminded of my first love:  This American Life.  It all started when I would listen to these while I did dishes in my apartment last year.  I’d heard good things and caught bits of episodes here and there, but it wasn’t until I stopped to really appreciate it by myself, for myself, that I discovered I was kind of in love with it.  Watching Ira Glass live a couple of weeks ago only made the heart grow fonder.  Hearing him say that at least 50% of his creative process is just trying to come up with good ideas, and that it took him a long time to get good at what he does.  It gives me hope. And it all has a lot to do with #3.

 

3) Stories

This one is not as easy to articulate, but I’ll try.  I’m fascinated by people’s stories, how stories are how we define ourselves, how life and relationships gain deeper meaning through them.

I often (and this is where it gets weird, stick with me) get caught up in the stories of strangers.  It’s why I love a good true story on TV, am drawn to nonfiction writing, and often find myself inspired after trips to Wal-Mart… 

There’s a middle-aged, fatherly man running the speedy checkout one Sunday night.  As I walk up he looks lonely, tired.  I strike up conversation, nothing terribly meaningful, just that my one item is possibly my smallest purchase ever.  And as I walk away I smile and so does he.

What’s weird is part of me really wants to know why he is lonely and tired.  Part of my heart wants to help him.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately that stories are a way to help. 

People who are lonely, depressed, overwhelmed, often just need to feel heard and understood.

Nonprofit organizations need money, there are plenty of people in this town with money to give, but the link has to be more than a vague “cause”, no matter how important the cause may be.  The cause has to be about people, the story of the real man who battles mental illness and can’t hold down a job, the real kid whose life is forever changed by seeing Peter Pan on stage for the first time.

Real connections that remind us we’re all in this together.
Hm. I could think about this for two hours. So I’ll stop now.

…

So let’s not kid ourselves here, all this talk about being in love is bound to make a girl think about being in love, especially with the amount of Michael Buble and Cole Porter I’ve been taking in lately.

I’m trying my hardest to live what I believe to be true:  that what matters is that I’m in love with life, that I’m enjoying things exactly as they are right now, and if I can handle that, then eventually I’m going to bump into the guy who is kind of in love with the same things I am.

Or I won’t.  And that’s the thing, right? I’m supposed to be okay either way…I think I can do that, but sometimes I worry I’ve seen too many Meg Ryan movies, and I won’t be okay until Billy Crystal runs to me on New Year’s Eve and makes me cry through affectionately recalling inside jokes.

Happy Veterans Day 11 November 2007

So I came out to see Grandpa’s grave. I haven’t been out here since July. In honor of Grandpa I brought McDonald’s. I’m also typing on my laptop. Surely this isn’t anything Woodrow Wilson would’ve imagined for Armistice Day in 1918 (that’s right, I’ve done research).

So I’m eating my double cheeseburger and fries, and feeling like I don’t think I’m making too melodramatic a statement… Sitting here just feels final and empty. I regret not taking McDonald’s to him on more Sunday afternoons when I could have. All those days wasted with the things you think are important in college (Homework. Boyfriends. Ha.) It feels so grown-up to be having this kind of regret.
Like every other adult who’s lost a grandparent.
Like mom always told me I’d be.

And I appreciated grandpa while he was here. I loved him, and his stories, and I KNEW (I suppose I should be grateful for this) I knew that he was something special while he was here. I didn’t have to wait until after he was gone to go “man, he was hilarious and wise and seasoned and experienced in ways that no other generation can or will be again”. I knew that. But I still took it for granted.

Like we all can do with people that mean the most to us.
(Man! This is just a day for cheesy blog clichés, isn’t it?)

I’m a Christmas season McDonald’s commercial, here at my grandpa’s grave, crying over my Double-cheese.

Maybe here’s yet another adult life lesson: in situations like this you get to choose whether you feel regret for all the ways you let the relationship down, or you can feel grateful for all the wonderful things that came from getting to have it at all. At this point I can’t change anything about my time with grandpa. And I think it’s better for me, and better in general (if we want to talk in a broad, life-energy, positive/negative spectrum of the universe sense) to send gratitude into the world in this moment. To let myself send love to Grandpa, wherever he is…besides below me and this darker green patch of grass, covered in dry leaves and runaway silk flowers. To allow myself to feel love, in that mystical way in which you still can, even after a grandparent is gone.
The love still exists, somehow. And it is endless. So I think I’ll take the pangs of loss and the stings of regret, knowing that the love is bigger.

Hm. So in order to love, you have to also accept loss and regret and mistakes and flaws and vulnerability and pain and all those things I would love just as much to protect myself from with all my energy and effort.

Hm.

Ok well maybe it’s time to let myself be here without words.