After much popular demand (one very loving boyfriend), I have decided to come out of my writing hibernation and continue with this blog. I think after two years of intensive reading and writing, I was, what you may call, "over it." Mainly, "over" over-analyzing things to the degree that I felt compelled to write about them, but I have come to terms with and embraced the fact that I shall forever be an over-analyzer, and thus must reconcile with my bitty blog.
Today, I want to catch up on some of the things that have happened in the past couple of months that I have very much wanted to write about, but difficulties arose because I do not want to think about them. To write about something that you do not think about is pretty difficult. (I am realizing as I type that I am channeling the style from "The Princess Bride." Which would be ok if I didn't find the book's style really annoying... perhaps a stylistic rethinking is in order).
First of all, I had to say goodbye to my student status (though, my ID still comes with me in case a theater, any theater, offers a student discount -- and not a dang one around here does!!!). This was difficult for me. I love being in school, I love being stressed for time working on a paper, I love the comraderie that comes with school, and now the "real world" is loudly knocking. Actually, it is a combination of it and myself knocking alternatively. It seems that at times I am more than willing to join the real world, but it does not seem to want me. At other times, the real world is so much in my face that I want to call a time out. Well, school is over and I have a feeling that it is over for a while. I know that eventually I will get the itch. It is inevitable and I foresee it clearly. But the itch to prove myself outside the classroom is much stronger, though vague in where it really lies. With school behind me, I walked foot in front of foot into the real world, and the real world had one big time-sensitive plan for me -- to pack.
I swear, I feel like after I finished school, I did nothing but pack and unpack, pack and unpack for a month and a half straight. Graduation weekend I drove up (in my parents' car, as mine decided it did not yet wish to leave Orange County, and instead decided to break down on me) and came to look for an apartment. Within a week, we had picked out place and signed a lease, and whoa Nelly, was that a big moment! I had signed a lease before, I had in fact signed several leases before. And I had signed a lease with roommates before, but this, this was the first time I was signing a lease -- with a BOY! A BOY that would be there day in and day out, day after night after day after night. So, as any responsible lease signer would do, I left. Well, no, not really, I merely came back to Orange County to begin the loooong packing process of 2008. I packed my clothes. I packed my books. I packed some more books. I packed my toiletries, my linen, my posters, my shoes, and a few more boxes of Penguins (I have many. They are very pretty and shiny on my shelf, sitting side by side, little penguins all in a row). Then, my parents said, "pack this" so I packed some plates and some pots. Then, my parents said, "pack this too," so I packed some towels and some vases. Then, my parents said, "this too, pack it" so I packed some blankets and some patio chairs. Then (well you get the picture). Then, my friend Kristin said, I have a futon for sale, and I thought, we have no couch, nothing to sit on, I must have that futon. So Allie and I drove and packed that futon in the car. More stuff to be packed away. My dad and I got a truck. We filled that truck. We filled that truck with some dexterity that it not a damn thing could move around in there. And on Saturday morning, we set out early on for the drive, me in my now-fixed car (also filled with stuff), and my dad in the Budget truck. We drove and drove and drove, and finally, arrived in Palo Alto. We arrived at my new place. My new place where a BOY also lives. (The novelty has not yet worn off).
For the first few days, all I did was wake up, unpack, store, clean. Wake up, unpack, store, clean. Soon, the apartment was not quite as covered in boxes, not quite as crazy. So, I did what any other person in my position would do -- I left! Well, I had to! I had to go back to Orange County to begin a new cycle of packing.
My parents decided that with retirement would come a slight relocation. Oh, not that far. Only a hop skip and a 12-hour plane ride, a stopover, and another 3 hour plane ride away! They were moving back to Romania, and taking the whole house with them. SOooo everything had to be packed. Organized, packed, tallied, kept score of. All the plates had to be bubble wrapped. All the photo albums had to be sorted. All the trinkets, the toys, the treasures, had to be put into boxes. For a week, I packed. Then, their big ol' container came, and everything had to be put inside. So for three days, we lugged. Then, it was gone. Then, the house looked --- well, it looked full, to be perfectly honest! The couches had stayed. Nearly their entire bedroom had stayed. My piano had stayed (coming back to this later). I was supposed to return to Palo Alto, but I too, stayed. I could not leave yet, could not say goodbye to the place I had called home for the past 15 years. So, another week went by. I slept on the couch (not pleasant), I ate my mama's food (quite pleasant), and I got to see my parents for another few days. But, then, it was time for me to return to my own new home, laden with more things to unpack once I arrived.
Then, the visits started. When Marcello's family came, they brought with them much to be later unpacked. Then, a couple of weeks later, my parents came, bringing their truck (now, my truck) full of things to be likewise unpacked and stored. But two things I could not unpack, and store, were my parents. They only stayed for a few days, then we were off to the airport and I had to watch from outside the security line as they walked away and disappeared into the crowd, without shoes, without me.
This was the packing and unpacking saga of the summer of 2008.
Some more exciting things have happened since school ended. I went to the crazyness that is the Camp Pendleton Mud Run (as an observer, not a participant). I witnessed thousands of people running and sloshing and crawling through mud, and actually agreed that it looked like a grand ol' time. Then, last weekend, I went (also as an observer) to the Wharf to Wharf in Santa Cruz, where even more crazy people ran their butts off for over 6 miles. With all this running frenzy surrounding me, I decided that I too shall run. When I read Sharone's blog about the Disneyland triathlon, I got super inspired to get my big booty off the couch (though in all honesty it is not there that often) and give this running thing a shot. At first, I could barely run for 30 seconds without almost keeling over. This was harder than it looked! But Marcello gave me a good running plan, and after following it for three weeks, today I ran for ten minutes non-stop, and including the warmup walk before I started running, I did a 16 minute mile. Stop laughing! It is damn impressive, for me. Besides the joys of running, M and I have just joined a gym. It is lovely and shiny - and expensive! But I think it will keep me going there, and I am very excited to go all the time. Plus, too many people keep insisting on having weddings this summer, and I must look at least presentable, especially for one particular one. I am actually considering going tanning. (It came with the gym package! I SWEAR!) If you saw how pasty I am, and considered how good I have to look for this wedding, you'd understand. Stop judging!
Besides the running and the potential tanning, my life has pretty much been as domestic as it comes. I am still looking for a job, and it did come as a slight shock when hundreds of employers did not call, come knocking, or sent messenger pigeons, begging me to work for them. Alas, as CNN informed me today while I was on my very shiny treadmill at my very shiny gym, this is NOT the time to be looking for a job. So, while I wait, I have honed my skills at domesticity. I have to say, there is something VERY appealing about being able to go to the mall at 2 in the afternoon after having done the laundry, the grocery shopping, and watched back to back Golden Girls.
I have also had time to catch up on some "fun" reading, though someone may want to update me on what "fun" reading is, as two of those books have included Wharton's "House of Mirth" and Radcliffe's "The Italian," which are not exactly light summer reading. I also read (finally!) "The Godfather" (rave!!!) and am now finishing "The Princess Bride" (eh, half snore, half smile). Next on my list, "Good in Bed."
Ok, my first return to the blogosphere has turned into a marathon, so I shall call it a day.
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith
Other than the ridiculous character changes, there are also really stupid plot decisions, especially one involving Mr. Collins. Poor, poor fat, insipid Mr. Collins...
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