That's What She Said.

2011-10-28T07:15:00.002-05:00

I cannot believe I am doing this right now.

I cannot believe I am going to do this. Right now.

I am blogging, and this is the first time I have written a blog without the "red line of misspelling" appearing under any form of the word "blog."

I just read through my old blog entries. In case you don't remember (who the eff am I writing to?), I started this blog for an experimental writing course I was taking--during the spring semester at UMass Amherst, the English department offers experimental writing courses that graduate students design and teach. The courses are worth 3 credits and can only be taken Pass/Fail, but as an undergraduate I never realized how awesome the idea of these experimental courses were. Graduate students were designing and teaching them. Why the new perspective? Well, because I am a graduate student now. And I teach college-level writing. And while I won't be teaching anything experimental in my English department, this blogging class is very relevant to my life now as a teacher and a writer. Who knew?

As a teacher, I've been playing around with going more multimodal. As a writer, I am looking back at what I wrote about my Costa Rica experiences during my application time (I should have written more about that, but I was all "ew I don't want to write about my feelings for a public audience"). ((haha my blog persona is still kind of the same, huh?))

I am losing steam with this blog post at the moment, but, to be honest, I just wanted to start writing here as a sort of "warm up" to some more "academic" writing (I'm actually starting with some vignettes about my experience in Costa Rica, so I guess we can consider it creative nonfiction--is that academic or something else?). Hemingway was an avid letter writer, and his letter writing served as "warm ups" (and "cool downs") for his fiction. I wonder if blogs could serve the same purpose: get all the "real life" crap out of your head by writing it down, and then you're more free as a writer to write the crap you actually need to be writing. It's weird because, as I am writing this, I am having all these "meta" moments of what blogging is doing for me right now/what it has done for me in the past. Since my entries from years ago are fresh in my memory, I could easily allude to them and say something more poignant about the writer I was then. Or I could easily write about what has happened since then. Oh boy, now I am rambling, but I don't believe in deleting these thoughts. What I was trying to say is that I am having these "meta" moments, and, while I don't think I have an actual "audience" that will click on this to read it, I have an audience in my head--a very specific audience, which happens to be the same audience I am going to write for after I finish this. That's strange, right? That I have an audience in mind as I write, but it's a public blog, and this person is part of my "private"/school life, and I have no intention of showing this writing to him...

I don't know. One last note before I go back to my writing self that I was honing as an undergrad at UMass (the travel writing/memoir Kristi): Hemingway actually became a big part of my Master's degree life. But I had forgotten about this post that is now one of my favorites... I just noticed that someone from outside of our blogging class had commented on it (who wasn't a spammer!). In my current "Geopolitics and the Globalization of Writing" course, we've spent some time thinking about technology and English and the idea of "linking." It's interesting to me that someone engaged with that blog post (4 months after it was posted in 2007) because they were brought to my blog via a Google-image search (if you look at the last comment, you'll see that the blogger gives me "directions" to how he found me--yay not a stalker). He engages both "personally" and "academically" (it is downright stupid for me to split those phrases like that, especially in this case), and offers me "links" to him, to Hemingway, and to his personal space (not by posting his link but because his name is a hyperlink that leads me to a profile that leads me to a MySpace account). This dude still checks MySpace (whoa, no "red line of misspelling"came up under the title "MySpace"). People who use the Internet are weird.

I'm it?

2009-03-27T11:54:00.002-05:00

After that one time I did that crazy thing with that one person I probably shouldn't have but it was pretty sweet so I don't regret it and yeah, this person invited me to join yet another social networking website: Tagged. I accepted and even threw a picture up there, despite the slower internet connections because I thought it'd be a nice way to keep in touch with this one person. I pretty much igonored it soon after joining, but after being home I realized it was a good way to continue writing in Spanish because people (read: men) send me messages all the time, and instead of ignoring them, I entertain them and wow them with my written skills (if only I could do this with my verbal skills without having to talk to strangers).

Anyway, after many requests to chat via messenger (I still like seeing lots of words in Spanish with the random English technology word thrown in... messenger) someone just asked for my email address, and since he seemed pretty harmless, I gave it to him. Turns out he's a rafting guide with Spanish schools in Turrialba, Arenal, and Dominical (did I mention my profile says I am from Costa Rica?). That's when I figure out he's a gringo. A gringo with Spanish schools, eh? Funny because I recently put myself onboard with a couple friends' idea of opening up a Spanish/surf school in Nicaragua.

So once I tell this guy I'm from Boston, we start writing in English, and I ask him about his experience with his schools. As expected, his beach school (Dominical with a joint surf school) does the best. And the reason they have had success is because they have a "very extensive medical Spanish program"... ohhh... I don't think my friends have thought that far ahead. But it's some good info to know. And now I don't feel like writing anymore.

Except for this: Tagged has some terrible features which includes "friends" "buying" "me." It's just wierd. Like... you know what? I just won't go there. Ciao.

What's a Title?

2009-03-23T18:13:00.004-05:00

So I believe the last time I wrote in here, I mentioned that I wanted to start writing again. And that I should do it everyday. Because we are all well aware that the art of writing needs to be practiced, just like any other art or sport. The sport of writing-- maybe that's more my writing style.

Speaking of sports, it's March Madness time, and my brackets aren't looking too good. I mean, they look good enough for an overall win, but I won't have enough points to win my league and the lovely cash prize.

So since leaving Costa Rica, I've been hanging out and traveling quite a bit. I've found myself in Kansas City, Jamaica, and New York, and I have trips to Charlotte, Jersey, and a whole road trip planned to Kansas City with stops in Ontario (who knew the fun side of Niagara Falls would be the Canadian side, not you, eh?) and it looks like we're (and by "we" I mean my boyfriend is) going to choose between Chicago and Louisville as the last stop before I move to Kansas City for a few months.

I'm moving for a few reasons: the romantic one being that there's this boy who lives there; the logical one being that we've been in a long-distance relationship, well, forever, and this will be a good test of whether or not to keep it going, I guess. I've always said you don't really know someone until you live with them. And the other reason is that I'm not finding a steady job around here. Sure, liquor promotions pay well, but there's just not enough of them to keep me occupied. I'm moving to "The Plaza" part of Kansas City, which has lots of restaurants, bars, and good shopping, so hopefully there will be some sort (ANY sort) of work for me. When I look online, I find tons of job listings, so I feel pretty good about this move.

This is it for now. I don't feel like writing anymore. So here's a picture of a little kitty:

I'll try to make a more productive post soon when I'm not stressed out about jobs.

Oops

2009-02-10T11:02:00.002-05:00

I aready suck at keeping a blog. I'm going to Kansas City (Kansas City, here I come) today. I am going to leave in about a half hour. I am going to kiss my boyfriend's face off and then superglue myself to his side, except for when he has to wake up in the morning and go to work without me. He should probably just take me with him. I'll be really quiet and sit under his desk like a good girl. I can just admire his ankles or something.

My skin is all super soft because I shaved for the first time in a month. Haha I'm gross. Not really though.

I'm Still Here

2009-02-07T14:49:00.002-05:00

Hey! I'm still here, and I just read over the blog I kept for a class 2 years ago. What has happened between graduation and now? I moved to Costa Rica. And I'd like to start writing again. So maybe I will try keeping a blog. I don't know what my voice is like. And I don't know what I am going to write about. Is this directly because I don't know who my audience is? Maybe!

The entry I wrote about spring break has potential for a travel article. I should probably write about my past year.

I'm going to Kansas City this week, and I am very excited.

Okay. This was a start. Let's try writing at least something every day. This will be like the birth control pill except the opposite because I want to have "thought babies" every day. So, I guess it's more like horomone therepy? And I don't have to limit myself to writing only once a day. I need to just get back into the practice of writing.

It already worked because I like the idea of thought babies. How adorable!

Well Hello there, dear world.

2007-11-09T12:18:00.000-05:00

I kind of feel like writing because well, it beats not writing, and it pretty much beats doing anything truly constructive like reading about diseases I might want to stay away from in Costa Rica.

I feel emotional today, kind of. This entry is going to be filled with kind ofs. I'm in a really strange place in my life. I'm not working. I'm not schooling. But in two months I'll be in a completly different time and place.. working and schooling. And who knows what else.

It's kind of nice that there are people supporting me in different ways, but it's also kind of nice that there are people who wouldn't mind it if I just didn't go at all. What if I didn't go? What if I didn't get the gig? What would I be doing right now? Would I actually settle down with one from my deck? Deck of cards that is. Playing cards, you might say. Am I being playful or serious?

I should probably go to the gym or something. Or eat. Maybe I'll try writing some other time.

Update what?

2007-06-27T00:49:00.000-05:00

I guess it's time for an update. Maybe it's because there's so much that should be running through my head. Maybe it actually is. I don't think I'm even making sense.

Graduation was amazing. The whole having a week off beforehand wasn't too shabby either. Basically I'm surprised nobody died. Maybe I'll write about the pigroast, the heart-to-hearts, the general mayhem and et cetera sometime. It's funny/(some other adjective) to think that college is over. I mean, even if/when grad school comes around, it will never be the same as my undergraduate career. I can honestly say UMass surpassed all my expectations... class wise, friends wise, and otherwise. It was a second home, and nothing will ever touch it... was it Thomas Wolfe that said "You can't go home again"...? Yeah.

Then again, Thomas Wolfe obviously didn't grow up in Leicester, Massachusetts. Actually being "home" has just solidified the fact that my high school friends will be there to the end... we're awkwardly close... and I wouldn't change any of it.

Anyway, I think the reason I decided to blog in this guy was to give the update on Costa Rica: I got the job.

All right. I still can't figure out what to say about it yet. I got the job.

I got the job.

Ahhh... anyway... I just got back from San Diego yesterday, and I'm somewhat in love with the place. While I'd still want to raise a family in New England, So.Cal. may have its place for a year or two in my future. Look at me, talking about my future like that. I don't want to go too much into it, but just being away from here was the perfect thing for me. After battling mono for what seemed like a long time, I wasn't sure how this trip was going to go... but it worked out really well. I could go on about going to all 3 Sox games (hey San Diego, you can have your ballpark back. Love, the thousands of Red Sox fans that overtook your city) and taking advantage of liberal drinking laws and a hotel on the beach. But something else happened. Maybe it was all the time to just be away from my apartment and my mom's house and maybe to kind of reflect... subconciously (sorry La Feminista).

I don't feel as jaded anymore towards... things... I guess I finally feel open to truly... meeting... someone.... okay this is getting weird and too personal.

I hate to say that "being away" gave me some new perspectives on Life or whatever (especially after being gone for 5 days), but I think that graduating and moving on opened up a lot of feelings for me that I just chose not to think about... wow this is so lame.

I guess that being "home," then being Home, then being away just helped me get back to... me. And I won't lie: I'm a pretty fucking good time.

And I love my friends. And I love fun. And I love life. And everything is going to change decently soon. I don't know when the fear will set in, but I imagine it has to.

I'm going to throw in some pictures because this post was... well, you read it.

hello hello

2007-06-11T18:16:00.000-05:00

Well, I got mono.

But I graduated.

I probably have a lot to say.

Fine. I'll give you a freaking personal one.

2007-05-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

So my 40 pages are due tomorrow, and I am very happy to say that (at this moment), 29 are completly finished and fully edited.... I'm just trying to figure out how to end the thing. See, through this whole memoir process, I was kind of freaked out about the page length... what story could I tell for that long? Now that I've worked it to death, I've realized that I have a lot more than 40 pages (trust me, I look through at least 20 additional pages that I don't want to throw away every couple of hours). So maybe, juuust maybe, this is just some sort of beginning to something bigger. Maybe I'll work on completing it after this class ends... who knows?

I need to finish that guy up, like right now, but I've been planning on posting this story all week: it's pretty light-hearted, but it is something more personal than I'd ever consider blogging about.

So here it is. How I met my first best friend at UMass. . . (anyone else been on nostalgia overload lately? I'm not fully there, but I can feel it coming... hfhflsfjsl).

I remember sitting in my Intro to Logic class (I thought Philosophy 110 would involve discussion not formulas). I am looking particularly cute this day because I had no classes prior to one o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This gave me time to sleep in, take a shower, and eat lunch. Life was good on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I sat in the 100-seat lecture room, always at least ten minutes early because being late for anything drives me insane. A guy sat down next to me, and I felt that he had to talk to me. I just knew. But, he wouldn’t even look at me! For an hour and fifteen minutes, we sat next to each other, not listening to the same lecture, and he couldn’t even give me a smile.

I walked into my next class, Intro to Personal Communication (possibly taught by the lamest professor in the world). I am sitting next to my new friend, Derek, when he walks in! The guy from my Logic class!

I tap Derek, “You see that kid right there?”

Derek looks at the kid walking across a row of the 400-seat lecture hall. “Yeah.” He seems uninterested.

“Well I hate him!”

This perks him up a bit. “Really?”

Not even a why? Just a really? I explain to him that I sat next to him, no, that he sat next to me in the class before this one, and he didn’t even look at me! Derek laughs, but I stay half-serious before falling into a class coma.

Two days later, Thursday, that kid sits next to me again! Ten minutes before class. I’m not looking too bad today either. Ten minutes before class I ask him: “So are you going to at least talk to me today?” His genuine shock is something I’ll never forget.

“Oh, uh, yeah…” he says.

Our conversation stayed on the surface: names, hometowns, dormitories (he actually lived in the same area as I). Dan and I became great friends during our first semester freshman year, and he is still one of my bests at the university four years later. We tell the story because it makes us giggle; our lives would have been drastically different if it wasn’t for that day (especially considering we shared a room for a semester). But it is only now that I question myself: where did I get that confidence? How was I so ballsy to think that this stranger needed to talk to me? Intuition? ESP?

Response to Brett's Comment (see last blog)

2007-05-03T10:29:00.000-05:00

Dear Brett,

I'm sure you're friend had more than 1 weekend to write 100 pages about facts.... facts that he or she probably should have been researching for a while...

I'm not bitching, but for me, it's way harder to write 40 decent pages about myself and a topic like race than it would be to write a science thesis where you just write and interpret the facts.

There's nothing really creative about a science thesis-- I'm sure you're friend isn't worried about the fact that people are going to be knowing all about her and her life... no one exposes their secrets in a science thesis. When your friend's paper gets published... his or her feelings are going to be slightly different than mine.

So thanks for your comment, but you just don't get it.

Love,

Kristi

ps- how's that for blog drama?? :)
pps- that's what you get for not asking me to your formal, jerk.

The Kind of Person I Am

2007-05-01T14:01:00.000-05:00

So I've been having a hard time being inspired to blog. Earlier in the semester, it was just a lot easier to fall into this "Ludakristi"/That's What She Said persona... but now that I am actually working on important things (haha no offense Bloggers), I don't have time for me. And my Snoop Bloggie Blogg.

I am sending out my Costa Rica application tomorrow. Everything is all set. I don't know what else to say about it.

I have 11/40 pages of my memoir... which is due in a week... so that's what I've been really working on. I'm trying to complete the 2 and a half pages I am going to be reading at Food For Thought on Thursday evening, but I usually just stare at them for a long time. I need to get those done today/night. Because I need to practice them tomorrow. And I need to blow everyone away on Thursday. I don't know how it's going to go, and I've never done a reading like this.

In blog class, I always say how my blog is personal, so a lot of questions that come up about the Blogosphere apply to me in different ways. But, the truth is, my blog isn't personal at all. I started writing for an audience as soon as a girl asked about "the Wink guy." I pull away from my blog by posting about cooking things and singing karaoke.

The stuff I am writing about for my memoir class... that's personal. That's going to be public, and that scares me. The Blogosphere means nothing to me compared to the manuscript I will have produced in a week. Once it's done, it's going to be accessible to family, friends, and strangers. Kind of like my blog. Rarrrhkjdfhlsd.... stressed.

Anyway. I brought my old journal to campus today because I am trying to get inspired to write 29 more pages worth of stories about me. I started the journal in 6th grade, and I was trying to write at least a little everyday, so the first entries are all like, "Today I ate spagetti. It was good. I like Titanic. It's an awesome movie." But then it gets into the boy crazy stage of my life, I guess. And there's some stuff in there that's worth expanding upon. All I can see now, however, is how much I censored myself... to myself. And I don't think I was just being cryptic in case someone started reading it. I can remember the feelings that accompanied certain events, but I just chose not to share them. Only towards the end is there any reflection... but I still think I censored myself a lot... and I have to question why. I don't know if I'll ever write in a journal again. It's scary now.

This post is full of "I don't knows" but whatever. I don't know why I am rambling in my blog instead of working on my memoir. But as I was reading my journal today, I came across a bunch of entries about the loves of my middle school life (who are kids I am all friends with to this day)... so I started sending out confessional text messages:

I'm reading my old journal and apparently I put frosting all over your face at my 13th birthday party. . . sorry for that but you should know that I thought you were SOOOO HOTT hahaha
CB: 508-___-____

To: Josh Connor
Sent: May 1, 11:36 am

Dave. I am reading my old journal and on November 4, 1998 I was totally in love with you. . . just thought that you should know. ;)*
CB: 508-___-____

To: Davisboy
Sent: May 1, 11:42 am

* I sent a similar text to Corey, but the date was September 30, 1999.

I'm reading my old journal and sending text messages with specific dates to let the boys know when I was in love with them. I got a couple I could things I could send you tooo!
CB: 508-___-____

To: Lo
Sent: May 1, 12:05 pm

Well on April 8th, 2000 I ended an entry with: Lolo and I are incredibley good friends now. It's creepy-- we know what the other one is saying without having to say it. (Lolo just called, how creepy is that?)
CB: 508-___-____

To: Lo
Sent: May 1, 12:10 pm

There's a few more good ones, and the responses are even better. But I don't want to blog anymore. Sorry Bloggie.

11/40 pages for memoir...

2007-04-30T19:20:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to blog about. I guess I'll try again later.

Prejudice

2007-04-23T13:45:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's because I live in a really liberal place, but the fact that racial segregation still exists in our country still shocks me everytime I think about it. I was just reading through the AOL news and this story came up: Georigia School Holds First Integrated Prom. I know it's completly naive to think that desegregation was over and done with 50 years ago, but still...

This school usually had two different proms, but this guy (Senior class president James Hall) "led the charge" for having one intergrated prom.

Speaking of my liberal mind, Extravaganja isn't what everyone thinks/assumes it is. It's just kind of a large, peaceful protest with music and hippies and local vendors and, yeah, "pot heads," "stoners," and whatever else falls inbetween. I use these terms because I just read them in The Daily Collegian, and I don't know if the writer was trying to be funny or trying to "represent," but the whole article lacked that general objective feeling for me (I read it in the Arts & Living section). Matthew Cadwallader writes,

"As students poured out of the dorms to enjoy the gorgeous weather this weekend, they may have noticed something different in the air; a funny smell. The copious amounts of marijuana smoked over the weekend, here on campus and around the world, would certainly be to blame.

The weekend was one for the pot heads, starting with the stoner holiday of 4/20 on Friday and continuing with the Cannabis Reform Coalition's (CRC) 16th annual Extravaganja on Saturday. According to organizers, the latter event, hosted on the Amherst town common, drew over 2,000 people from around the Pioneer Valley for a celebration of all things marijuana."

I mean, the title of the article was "A day of baking in the Amherst sun," but I really thought it was going to be about the nice weather and Southwest Beach... haha. So the "funny smell" just surprised me-- I thought I was getting into something scientific... but nope, it's about "copious amounts of marijuana."

Now I'm not condoning or condemning someone's usage... but just because someone supports CRC or the decriminalization of marijuana doesn't make them a "pot head." I don't know; you can read the whole article here though and see if I am just reading it the wrong way. Something seems off about the article in general to me... maybe Cadwallader is just a freshman or something though... trying to come off as a cool dude instead of a journalist. There were a lot of interesting leads in this one small piece though.

Anyway, this how the CRC describes Extravaganja:

"A marijuana-freedom festival meant to raise awareness about the legalization of marijuana. Featuring live bands, guest speakers, and plenty of vendors on the Amherst Common from dawn till dusk."

I was there for a little bit. It was a beautiful day and there were lots of people and dogs and music and fun. But then I left on a mission for a grill. But that's another story. Sorry Blogosphere, it's too warm out to continue writing.

Fundraising.

2007-04-16T16:19:00.000-05:00

A huge part of getting the job in Costa Rica is going to be my interview. Because I haven't done a lot of volunteer work in my college career (I mean, I did lots in high school), I want to show them how serious I am. Because I am going to have to pay for some things (airfare and such add up even when it's volunteer based), having ideas of fundraising might be a "applicant-booster" (I imagine they are going to ask how I am going to pay for these fees during my interview).

I don't really like the idea of asking people I know for donations-- and I know my family is generous enough to help me out however they can. But I honestly like the idea of doing this all on my own. In high school, some of my friends and I were really into the local "scene," so we knew all these bands and would put on benefit shows a lot. I could probably swing something like that. Or, I think I could probably set up something at one of the bars in Amherst or Worcester... or maybe my mom will let me throw ragers in her backyard... haha. Or like, when we were in middle school, there were "town hall dances" thrown as fundraisers-- I wonder if people still do those things...

Or I could potentially make things so that people get something for donating to me. Like, I can crochet (oh great, now the world knows). I could do something simple like scarves (have the summer to work on them)... and then just have a sliding scale or something. I bet I could have a table at the Harvest Festival or the Apple Festival in my hometown because I used to volunteer at all those things when I was younger (did I already mention that I did TONS of stuff when I was in high school?).

Or maybe I should just send a letter to every person I have ever met... explaining my goals and... nah-- I'd rather offer some sort of incentive or product-- basically something fun.

All right!

2007-04-16T13:17:00.000-05:00

Let's talk about the Blogosphere!

I admit that I wasn't a very big blog reader before taking this class; I just assumed blogs were for gossip and pop culture. But my opinions have changed.

For my Spanish class, we had to give a brief presentation on any current news article from a Spanish-speaking country. Since I've been trying to learn as much about Costa Rica as I can (which can be difficult when I have to take into consideration all the other work I need to get done), I decided to look into Costa Rican newspapers. So I've been reading La Nacion (Spanish) and The Tico Times (English), but I realized that newspapers aren't going to offer me any information on what the country is REALLY like, right? This is when I decided to Google search for "Costa Rica blogs"... and then this came up: The Real Costa Rica.

I haven't navigated the whole site (yet), but there is a blog I left a comment on. And then someone (Alan Petersen) saw my comment and left me a message on my blog. And his comment led me to this site, which is a bunch of podcasts about the country.

Thank you Blogosphere! Thank you for giving me the kind of information I want, and thank you for offering me this sort of network...

So basically, I am going to apply to teach in Costa Rica by the end of this month. And I am going to continue to learn a lot about the country. And I am going to rock my interview and get the job. Done and done.

I have to.

Holy run-on sentences Batman

2007-04-10T16:46:00.000-05:00

Dear Blog Class,

We can't bring up "the Wink guy" in the middle of class because then I have to call him afterwards and let him know that he was brought up because it's kind of ludicrous and then he gets all flattered and then I have to be extra mean to him to make up for making him feel good because I keep telling him that I am not a very nice girl.

Plus "the Poker guy" will get jealous and bring all the "blogga drama" out into the open and then we are going to have to have an intervention and A&E is going to have to come in and then we are all going to have to watch the new episode which sucks because they moved the time slot from Sunday to Friday and who really wants to watch A&E on a Friday night when they could be out doing something more social.

And "the Movie guy" is going to go to karaoke tomorrow night perhaps because he is filming some thing for UMass and wants to show UMass Nightlife not that karaoke at SevenO's is really a huge UMass event like Guitar Dudes or something but I can't stand Guitar Dudes now because everytime I go into McMurph's I can't even walk or get drinks in a timely fashion so we always end up going to Delano's.

Speaking of Delano's you should all check out my friend's band "On The Rocks" on Friday night at 10pm because it will be fun and they are seriously talented and they play awesome cover songs in fact they only play cover songs so they really know what they are doing and usually they play at The Harp and since Harpo owns Delano's now too they are moving on up to the uptown side in a deluxe bar in the sky but really they are awesome and I bet they are going to change their set list to a more Guitar-Dude-sey feel because that's what all the brodudes want to hear and Guitar Dudes is lame now anyway.

Love, Kristi

fyi

2007-04-07T19:27:00.000-05:00

(not the actual Wink guy)

Just because I gave you the link to my blog doesn't mean anything.

Mi búsqueda para pura vida

2007-04-03T15:53:00.000-05:00

So I am applying to teach English in Costa Rica. And it'd be really helpful if I could get any feedback at all on my application questions. So I am going to freewrite my initial responses here, then refine them for the next week or so (the questions aren't too difficult, but the 250 word limit is pretty harsh). Any help would be incredibly appreciated... especially if you could point out both the aspects that work and those that don't work (or need to be worked on).

1. At this point in your life, what is your motivation for wanting to be a WorldTeach volunteer in the country to which you are applying? What personal goals do you aim to achieve by participating in the program? What contributions do you hope to bring to the community in which you will teach and live?

My motivation for being a WorldTeach volunteer in Costa Rica stems from my interest in teaching, writing, and the country itself. As a newly intermediate Spanish speaker, I understand the difficulties of speaking a second language and the fact that acquiring new languages takes discipline. As a self-motivated young woman, I am constantly thinking of ways to strengthen my rhetoric both inside and outside of the classroom. Being submerged into a different culture and language will challenge my normal discourse and will undoubtedly benefit me as a thinker, writer, and scholar. In this way, my motivations and personal goals will truly be at work together.

Because I view writing as such an important factor in life, no matter what field one is in, the practice of this art would be employed in order to contribute to the area that I will be living and working in. Collaboration is a huge part of my personal pedagogy, so the idea of creating some sort of “writing community” would be beneficial to both me and the students. A specific idea I have is developing a newspaper for students to work on about topics that affect or interest them. We could focus on everyday things like movie reviews, extracurricular activities, or whatever interests the students. Something like this might have to start in Spanish, but it would be a great experience to practice writing articles in English because seeing physical results in the form of a newspaper will be rewarding.

If this idea is successful, I would invite friends and families of the students to contribute as well. This could branch out further into answering questions that non-Costa Ricans have. Since I have relationships with teachers in my hometown, I might be able to let both Costa Rican and American students collaborate from abroad. Hopefully, this will make students aware of their own country and community, as well as in the world around them.

By the Way. . . (no cats I swear)

2007-04-01T17:24:00.000-05:00

I thought I should mention that I'm not being overly emotional anymore (that commercial just came on, and it didn't even bother me... and I am alone). I think I'm taking my stress out in a new way: cooking! Last night I made stuffed shells (thank you Paula), and they were pretty excellent. Paired with a simple salad (with multiple colors because you eat with your eyes first) and a nice bread, it made for a nice dinner. The merlot made it kind of a nice dinner for a couple. But I think famlies would be into it (I cut the recipe in half and still had enough for at least 4 people).

I had some left over stuff from the shells, so I just made a lasagna that also came out pretty good. The sad thing is that no one is around to eat it.

The thing about cooking is that it doubles as a technique of procrastination. Not only is there the time I spend physically cooking the food, there's recipes to search for, the Food Network to watch, and trips to the grocery store and such... But yeah, I really should do some work now. I thought about my blog because Perez Hilton is on tv right now (yeah I really didn't get who he was until this class).

And by "go do some work" I mean watch some tv while thinking about memoir-writing... but only for about 40 minutes because then I have to get up and check on the strawberry pie that's in the oven. : )

Another One About Cats. DEAL with it.

2007-03-30T19:36:00.000-05:00

So someone had commented to me (outside of the blog world) about "the Wink guy" (mentioned here), and it's actually kind of funny because I never mentioned that this Wink guy is still kind of around... like, in my life...

....yup.

He laughs about me and my blog. Because of course I told him that I mentioned him one time. I toyed with the idea of sending him the link, but that can wait for another day. Maybe.

Anyway. So, last week, the Wink guy and I got into our first "fight." It wasn't a fight at all. But I've been extraordinarily emotional lately (I almost cried during an ASPCA commercial, and it wasn't like I was alone in the room... damn Sarah Mclachlan), and so I pulled some completly girlish move... oh terrible. I am so anti-girl when it comes to bullshit, but hey, it happens, right?

So I end up making him feel really bad... whoops... haha (obviously I am super apologetic... not). He calls (it's about 10am, and I don't have class until 1:25). He's going to stop over. Do I want anything? Coffee? No. Tea? No. Hot chocolate? No. Freeze pops, candy, random list of things I would normally want because I like treats? Nope. I really don't want anything. The sad voice keeps coming out, but I can't help it; once I've slipped in, it's hard to get out.

So I'm laying on the couch watching daytime tv, being totally pathetic but secretly happy that he stopped by. He comes and sits close, almost halfway bent over me, and I guess I have to talk to him. I don't really want to talk about it because I'm embarrassed: I've only recently learned how to really express my emotions like this. So of course I have to pull the "No, it's stupid.. I don't want to talk about it..." thing. He takes it, probably knowing that I'll break down sooner or later (which is also pretty new for me). JesseCat comes over and rubs his head on my dramatically hanging hand.

The Wink guy knows that Jesse has been comforting me all morning. He shifts to an upright position and says, "Since you were so ademant against me getting something for you, I got something for your little guy because I know he's been being there for you." He pulls out a little, bright orange mouse that rattles when you shake it and a bag of kitty treats. JesseCat is very excited and very happy with his new things. And I have to admit that it was really sweet of the Wink guy to get my cat things. He says that he knows he can make me smile.

I'm mad that it works.

But not really mad at all.

* * *

In other cat news, my roommate Ashley bought this book "Stuff On My Cat." I guess it started off as a website, and it's just a book of pictures. Pictures of cats. With stuff on them. Some of them are funny-- showcasing the laziness and/or the lethargical nature of some cats. You know, a cat with a curly mop of plastic hair on its head... a cat sleeping on its back with a bottle of Jose Cuervo strategically placed against its side... a fat cat with a cheeseburger on its back. Hilarity in book form.

Some of them kind of bother me. Like the cover has a cat with a pile of whipped cream on his head (and a cherry). I guess that's kind of funny? But like, the binding little costumes people shove their cats into... that's not even really stuff on your cat. It's putting your cat in something. Stalking around your house to place all your Kill Bill figurines in an epic battle scene on top of your cat is fine... because you're not trying to wake him up or anything. You snap the picture and go. After looking at the book I had to try it. Jessecat was awake, but I still managed to put a bunch of spongey dinosaurs on him and have a really good time. Whatever.

Here's some pictures of stuff on cats. You decide if it's cruel or not:

Creeping on cats is pretty funny... if you can manage to put things on your cat without him waking up, then well done. But I'd imagine stuffing your cat into a little outfit doesn't happen while it's asleep. And I doubt your cat likes it at all.

Spring Break: Fun Tuesday (real pictures to come soon)

2007-03-26T16:51:00.000-05:00

So my “social experiment” got put on hold, and I have learned the drawbacks of planning a blog post. See, I rarely make plans. Ever. Because I always break them. So disregard my last entry, but just know that Seven O’s is fun, and we will be there this Wednesday.

Last week was spring break (wooooo! Show us your boobs! Yeahh!). No, no. It wasn’t like that. Now I have to refute the statement I previously made: I can plan things, but they have to be big things, and planning big things with lots of people is difficult. So for my last spring break, I did not do the whole “woo/show us your boobs/Cancun rocks” thing. About two weeks before break, I decided that I was going to take a plane to Florida. My friend Matt (read: ex-boyfriend with a soft ex) has an apartment down in Clearwater because he’s a big deal with Monster.com and is doing big things and making a lot of money. Good for him. Anyway, my roommate and I flew down with Matt basically just not to be in Massachusetts. We were stoked to trade in dead stupid trees for lively palm trees.

So we had a free place to stay AND Matt’s friend lent us his car for the week. Um, can we say nicest kid ever? So we took advantage of the beach and the warmth and the fact that we were hundreds of miles from home. But if you know Jenna and me, you know that we are down for whatever random-ness we can get ourselves into. So I guess I’ll give the top three (random) things we did. Funny thing is that they all happened on the same day.

Clearwater/St. Pete: Fun Tuesday

1) We started our day with a trip down 19S into St. Petersburg. There were only a few things I actually had “planned” on doing and going to the winery was one of them. I had found it online while googling the area, so I had the address and phone number written down. Of course we didn’t call for directions or anything; we just drove until we were in St. Pete (Jenna’s got a great sense of direction). So you know, 45 minutes later, we had only seen a billboard for this place, and it didn’t help us with directions. So we stopped at a gas station and bought a map. The man behind the counter asked us where we were going and then offered directions. We took his directions. They led us to a drawbridge. . . that wasn’t going down. We waited for a while before turning around and getting back on 19 and looking at the map.

“Okay, Central Ave. runs right into Pasadena Ave South. I remember seeing it up there; it was the only one that wasn’t a numbered avenue,” I explain to Jenna. I am her trusty copilot for the week because I can’t drive stick. We find the turn and take some guesses. Finally we start seeing little green signs with outlines of grapes on them: WINERY. Yes. After some crafty maneuvering (Jenna never just turns around), we make it to the winery, which pretty much resembles a little grey shack (nothing compared to the winery I went to in Sicily, but that’s a whole different ballpark).

So we hop out of the car. I tug on my little black and white dress as I slip on my strappy, kitten-heeled sandals. Of course the first question Jenna asked that morning was, “Ooh, what do we wear to a winery?” She went for the black gauchos and a tan tank top with a long necklace of random stones. We are quite classy broads.

Jenna insists that she has a sweating problem as we approach the door. She has me check out her back, but I don’t see any wet marks. Seriously! She tells me that she will kill me if there are any. We walk into the winery silently but smiling as we both fold our sunglasses up from our eyes and into our front roots.

We’re busted as soon as we walk in. A lady greets us as we peek around the gift shop. A tasting bar sits against the far wall. “Have you ever been here before?” she asks with a light Southern accent.

“No,” we shyly smile like a cute boy has just kissed our hand.

“Well, this is our gift shop. We make all of our wines without using any grapes. We offer a tasting, that is if you girls are over 21, which it looks like you might be,” she tells us as we try not to let our eyes light up, “and there’s a little tour you can take-”

“I want to do that first,” I quietly interrupt. I don’t know if she hears me, but I know Jenna understands because she likes order to events, too (first we learn then we booze).

The “tour” ends up being a little DVD thing to watch, so we pretend to watch intently. Jenna already knows all about the fermentation process because she’s a Hotel Management and Tourism major, and she’s taking a class in beverage management (we took bartending and got TIPS certified together). After the show is over, a younger gent comes up to us and asks what we thought and if we wanted to partake in any tasting today.

We’re already on our way to the far side of the shack.

Another young gent is behind the bar. He has a ponytail and glasses and a sleeve of bluish-green flame tattoos covering her right forearm. He starts by questioning our “normal” wine drinking habits, and we joke about anything that comes out of a box or jug. Taking into account our girlish giggles and taste for something light, he decides to start with a mystery wine. His hand covers the label as he pours two tastes. Since the DVD had taught us how to taste wine, we play connoisseurs as we try to figure out the mystery of this light yellow liquid. I want to say “apples” because of the crispness of it, but I doubt they have any apples down here. Jenna guesses some sort of citrus because, duh, we’re in Florida. We’re wrong. It’s made from carrots.

“It has more antioxidants than pretty much anything ever,” he tells us. I think about my mom because she’s always drinking pomegranate juice and the likes for the antioxidants, but I decide that we can do way better than the carrot stuff.

We taste a good amount of wines before poking around the shop and tasting a few more. Your pallet gets all muddled though, so tasting lots of different wines without a food cleansing in between doesn’t offer very much.

We settle on “Mango Mama,” which the bar gent refers to as “happy girl wine.” I buy a bottle for the fam and a bottle of Mango-Mama-champagne for when we graduate. We grab a couple little souvenir glasses as well, and we’re out the door. Florida sunshine just gets better with a little sweet wine (I don’t know why I just typed that. I don’t know why I felt the need to wrap that all up like that. I think I am getting back into travel writing mode, but I’m not going to edit this, and I am totally rambling blog style right now… weird…).

2) Jenna stole some tourist guides from the winery, so I looked into a place to eat for lunch. She had already mentioned Hooters, and I was obviously game-on (sprrrrring breeeeeak!!!!). So there happens to be one on Gulf to Bay Boulevard in Clearwater. I recognize that road because it’s near Drew Street… and that’s near Matt’s apartment. So we follow our instincts (well, I look out the window, it’s Jenna who has the instincts), and all of a sudden, she points out, “Hey, do you think those orange letters are it?” Beat. Yessss. So we head into the grey shack-like building (weird how many shack-like grey buildings there are around this place). We obviously judge the waitresses because, like, you just have to. I am all about inner-beauty and stuff, but like, if you work at Hooters… anyway, our waitress is just kinda scary, but she is nice. We order a pitcher and talk about the happy hour laws that Massachusetts doesn’t allow. In fact, there are lots of drinking laws down here that we wished we had… 2-for-1’s and the likes. We think it’s smart that our waitress comes back with a baggie of ice to put in our pitcher, but obviously she doesn’t know how we Northern girls can drink. Pitchers shouldn’t be allowed to get cold.

As we look at the menu, we notice that it says “The Original” on it. No. Could it be? We read the history on the back. Oh my. We have landed ourselves on a physical piece of American history! The Original Hooters! We enjoy our meals but now it’s kind of naptime. We look for some sort of cool merch at the store, but it was all pretty lame (on our ‘senior skip day’ in high school, we all went to Hooters in Boston [after the science museum] and bought shirts [mine said ‘Hooters Girls Think I’m Hot’—it was for little boys]. Then the next day we all got in trouble for wearing them. Apparently one of the teachers was offended. And by “we all,” I mean my music teacher was like, “Kris, sing your part… all your friends are being called down to the office” [Thanks Mr. Nick!]). So we left empty-handed but super-full. We pulled out of the back of the parking lot only to discover this beautiful, big, pink building with large windows: the Hooters Corporate Building! Hahaha. I love the fact that they kept the restaurant a shack and hid the expensive building way back behind it. We took pictures on their sign.

3) Our afternoon tradition was to go back to Matt’s apartment and chill out while watching a bad movie on TV. In one of our little tourist guides there was a dolphin cruise being offered… with unlimited beer and wine… and we had a coupon for $2 off! So back to Clearwater Beach for this little excursion. $18 for a boat ride to see dolphins was justifiable I guess, but the free beer and wine were what tied it all together. The boat holds up to 125 passengers, but there were about a fifth of that number onboard. We had planned on going to on the sunset cruise, so you can imagine how romantic it was for Jenna and me. We did see a bunch of dolphins. And it was really cool because they were all jumping in the wake (a whole family of them… totally sweet).

So as if being the two girls on the cruise who were obviously in it to drink wasn’t enough, I think everyone assumed we were a couple (or at least that’s what some of my comments made them think… muahaha). And on top of this, right as the sun went down behind the water, they started playing the Titanic song! I almost died laughing. After crying a little. Crying from laughing. Guys? Come on.

Anyway, the boat cruise was about 75 minutes long, and we both managed to put down about 6 drinks. So we were all fired up for a night on the town. Not to mention we forgot about eating dinner. And not to mention that we only spent $10 on drinks for the rest of the time we were in Clearwater…

It was a good time.

The Prequel

2007-03-13T15:08:00.000-05:00

So I don't usually plan what I blog. Sometimes things are just on my mind or I reach for random things and see where they take me. This week, however, will be different. I don't want to give away too many details because there is a chance that my little "social experiment" won't work out (or that it just won't be very interesting).

One of my good friends (back from The Palladium show days) had been living elsewhere for the past few years, so I didn't get to see him very often. He actually moved back to West Springfield somewhat recently, and we were all stoked that we'd get to hang out a lot more now, but I forgot about the fact that I am constantly busy during the week with tons of homework and such, and then I tend to get lost in my weekends (it really is nearly impossible for me to make plans because I break them). Since I have been being neglectful of my duty to hang out and have fun with Mr. West Springfield for some time, I decided to actually make an effort; oh yes, look at me being all forward and plan-formulating.

So I come up with this idea: Wednesday night - dinner - Seven O's - Fun. (In case you didn't feel like clicking that link, it's a bar that offers karaoke on Wednesday nights). ((Probably no cats allowed))

I throw this idea out to my roommate Sharon (the one in the middle), who has recently filled our apartment with Guitar Hero, Dance Dance Revolution, and Karaoke Revolution (the Playstation2 Workout triathlon). She is game on. I said we could go to the GoTen, but then somehow we started talking about food (surprise, surprise) ((and by "surprise" I mean I am a sarcastic broad)), and then we started talking about "Billy's Chicken"-- her mom's recipe that somewhat resembles Chicken Divan, minus the Worcestershire, garlic powder, and lemon... oh and tons of cheddar cheese on top instead of whatever that recipe suggested. Basically, Sharon volunteered to make this dinner for us all-- saving everyone money that will probably be spent at the bar.

So it should be a pretty entertaining night. And my "social experiment" involves this guy:

...and that's all you're getting for now.

"Yeah, and you're really working that dimple!"

2007-03-11T13:56:00.000-05:00

I had talked about potentially bartending at the Palladium a few weeks ago. It actually didn't work out, which is fine because it gives me more weekend nights at UMass. But the other night, my friend called and left me a message about potentially waitressing at there for Friday night. It paid $100 plus tips, and since I'm leaving for Florida in a week, I was game on. I have never waitressed before in my life, and I didn't really understand how it'd work in a venue like this, considering I'd only ever been to concerts there. But I didn't really ask any questions.

It ended up being a boxing thing, which was interesting in itself. Joe Siciliano, a local police detective from central Mass, was to fight Eric "Butterbean" Esch-- a professional boxer that every guy seemed to know... I guess he was in Jackass or whatever. Yeah, whatever. I won't even pretend to know what I'm talking about here, but this guy knows a lot about this stuff, and I actually stumbled upon his blog while trying to figure out what the hell I was getting myself into. This pretty much sums it all up.

So I cocktail waitressed from 7-10. It was an interesting experience... and I made more money than I really should have. I kind of knew what to expect, but I was just so out of my element that I couldn't even pretend to be flirty: I was more on the defense (haha). But I did what I had to do, and maybe people could tell I was new at this because, as the night went on, people just kind of threw money at me.

I hung out for a while after the fights were over. I actually knew a few people working, and I also met a bunch of new people-- all of them were really great, so working was a good time. Since I had lost my phone a few weeks ago (and purposely didn't try to re-fill it with all the numbers I had), I thought about going to the bar by myself... but decided I still wasn't ready for that. A (somewhat random) kid had called while I was working, seeing what I was up to. I'm terrible at making plans, but doing things on the fly is where I excell. So I called him up, and he was surprised that I was in Worcester. He was meeting his friends at Mahoney's Pub on Park Ave, so I figured I'd meet up with them.

But first, since I hadn't eaten all night, I stopped at Taco Bell (check out this Nutrition Calculator for the place). And waited in the Drive-Thru line for way too long, but that $1.35 burrito (which wasn't even that good) was still worth it. So I eat said burrito in the parking lot across from Mahoney's and call my friend to come meet me outside because, for whatever reason, I didn't want to walk into a bar by myself.

His friends were nice, and we made jokes about syphilis because apparently syphilis is hilarious (and I just had to look up how to spell "syphillus"). His friends were heading down to Irish Times, which is right across from The Palladium (where I thought about going until I realized that I am very over this bar and covercharges and overpriced drinks). We had a pitcher to finish, so we stayed behind, and this is where it felt like I accidently went on a date (he even said at one point that he felt he was "on an episode of Blind Date").

I'm not an awkward person, so I have no problem shooting the shit with "strangers." He (his name is PJ) is the "cousin" of one of my really good friends from home ("cousin" in the sense that they aren't blood related, but their dads are best friends, so they grew up together like cousins). We laughed because my friend told me that if PJ wanted to hang out, I shouldn't (I also don't bullshit about things-- people either love it or hate it, but I just like to throw everything out there).

So I don't even know what we talked about. But he thinks I'm funny, and I let him know that I'm really not a funny person (I know funny people, and I am not one of them). But I'm biting and sarcastic, so sometimes people find it charming (ha ha ha). Anyway, I think it got to the point in the night where I felt the need to put him on the spot, so I threw out the statement: "So tell me something interesting." It's actually quite an arrogant move, like I'm someone so important that I need to be impressed by "something interesting" instead of regular conversation that comes up.

So I'll get to the point of this story. I think I mentioned before how I think of "blog life" and "real life" separately for the most part, but sometimes things I blog about come up in real life conversation (I think I summed it up in the first paragraph of this guy). So when the "tell me something interesting" was reversed on me, my mind went to The Sun Also Rises (and my boy Hemingway), so I told PJ about the 6-word challenge and how I took it on as a mantra. So, we needed the figurative drumroll before I could actually tell him what Hemingway came up with, so he went and got a piece of paper and a pen, and I wrote down Hemingway's story.

He looked at it, and I think he saw what excited me (I mean I told him that I could see it at work on so many different levels). He asked if I wanted to know what he thought. Of course I did; I'd never thought to ask anyone else what they felt when they read it. So he took the pen and wrote one word underneath it: Opportunity. I almost freaked out because that is the farthest thing on my spectrum, and his explanation would take it even further away. It was incredible. After we talked about it for a little while, I asked him if he wanted to see what I saw in those words. I took the pen and wrote above the story: Miscarriage.

Needless to say, we had more to discuss, and I fell in love with the story even more. I can't decide if it's his business or masculine side (okay I can, definitly the business background said "Opportunity"). I can't decide where MY interpretation came from. Maybe it's a woman thing: you know, that whole having children thing. Maybe it's something else. I don't know, but I'm glad the blogosphere made an appearance on my accidental date.

Just A Quickie

2007-03-05T20:44:00.000-05:00

On the bus this afternoon, I happened to overhear just a couple things from the boy sitting behind me. I was counting the words of one of the things he said, thinking it could be cool as a 6-worder, and then he said something else (about a completly unrelated thing), and I thought it worked really well:

Stays up all night: Oh Jesus.

Yeah, think about it. I mean, it's not as brilliant as Hemingway, but you can go a lot of directions with it. Hm. I like it.

Name Drops Like Whoa

2007-03-04T11:14:00.000-05:00

Are there any other graduating seniors out there? I feel like [adult ]people ask me all the time, "So how do you feel about graduating?" Um, I don't. In fact, I'm too busy to feel anything about anything right now, and when I do have the time to think about stuff, it's just weird.

And then comes the next question: "So what are you going to do after graduation?"

Maybe grad school? But I don't know if I want to do that right away.

But what would you study?

Rhetoric and Composition.

Blank stare.

I don't know if I want to go right away. My mind goes back and forth. And I'm not as excited as I once was about the whole venture, but that could go back to just not having time to feel anything about anything right now.

So there's that. After last week's Adventures in Blogging class (I'm the only one who calls it that) ((and by the only one who calls it that, I mean I just wrote it for some reason right now and didn't delete it)), I stuck around with Kevin and Brett, and somehow my future came up. We were talking about spring break and Brett's plans to go to Las Vegas, and I came up with the idea that I should be a professional poker player. Who cares about teaching kids to write... I should be coming up with witty catchphrases and planning out what outfit would say "I'm a serious player but I came here to party as well." (Brett actually nailed how I really feel about the wit of the professional poker player in his blogpost here)

But then there comes that whole skill thing... and the effort... oh right. And the fact that I would probably suck and lose a lot of money. But they said I could easily make $70K as a poker correspondent (?) or something like that...? And Kevin knows all about movies, so of course he knows about these kinds of things, too.

So I told Brett to make me some contacts out in Vegas. You know, because it is that easy.

If grad school (right away) and being a poker slut don't pan out, I do actually have something I've come across. Actually, one of my professors emailed our class about it, and it's been in the back of my mind all weekend.

I guess the job title is a "Culture Assitant." I'd be living in Spain, teaching English, and working on my Spanish. It's 12 hours a week in a classroom with elementary or secondary school kids for 8 months (October-May). I'd only make about $820 a month, but I have no idea what the cost of living there... and I'd have a lot of free time to pick up some other kind of job...

I don't know. If anyone speaks intermediate to advanced Spanish, maybe you'd like to check it out.

You know what? I'm just not feeling very bloggy today. It's been a long week, and I've been getting these really intense headaches, but that's enough about that. Read Brett's blog and give me the Cliff's Notes on what I need to know about poker.

so I finally get a chance to go to the movies..

2007-02-25T21:48:00.000-05:00

How many letters is "boring pretentious movie?"

At least the directing was cool.

rarrr.

This short angry post brought to you by The Number 23.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; you're just hopeless."

2007-02-24T12:10:00.000-05:00

Hello hello hello. It's been a very busy week, and next week isn't looking much easier, so here I am on Saturday morning... blogging my hangover away.

Nah, I don't think I'm hungover at all. I really think I'm getting sick though, which sucks, obviously. I woke up this morning feeling way too warm but refusing to take my temperature. And my throat hurt (half of that might be from the screaming-karaoke-match that we did to songs that make us want to cry). And I'm just kind of sore overall (oh yeah, I uh... "battledanced" last night: true story). But those are all topics for another blog post (especially the battledance one). My mind is stuck on my new obsession, this guy:

Ernest Hemingway. Novelist, journalist, short-story writer. Soldier. Womanizer. Alcoholic. Pulitzer Prize winner. Goes crazy and takes the cake by killing himself. I read The Old Man and the Sea when I was a junior in high school (not by choice), and I hated it. He spent a whole 180 pages or whatever trying to catch a fish, and then when he succeeds, sharks eat it. Oh, is that what they call a spoiler? Sorry. But really, I was young and stupid then. Now that I am so much older and so much wiser (debatable), I have found an appreciation for his style, prose, blah blah blah.

Anyway, so what really brought me to this realization came about while doing research this week. On Tuesday I have to give a presentation in one of my classes, and it happens to be about the genre of memoir. Killing some time at work, I did a Google search just for "memoir" to see what would come up. I eventually came across this website, which is very relevant to this class, and the thing that would make me become obsessed with Hemingway. See, legend has it that Hemingway (and I think a bunch of other authors at the time) was given the challenge to write a story using only six words. He wrote,

"For sale: baby shoes, never used."

Some say he considered it to be the greatest thing he ever wrote, and I agree. The more I thought about it, the more I wrapped myself around it. Now I've taken it in as some sort of mantra-- as a writer and as a writer who has to write her first memoir by the end of the semester. The simplicity of six words is what kills me. It's about trusting your audience to get your point without having to over-write anything. I could probably go on a lot more about this.

But anyway, this online mag decided to have a contest in which they challenged their readers and contemporary authors to tell their story in six words: The Six-Word Memoir. Winners were to be published in a book.

The winner ended up being Abigail Moorhouse who wrote, “Barrister, barista, what’s the diff, Mom?” Once again, something that reminds me of Sicily and/or the Sicily class, and I guess it's strength lies in its simplicity as well: she's just telling it like it is.

Some of my favorites were:

"Never really finished anything, except cake." —C. Perkins

"Savior complex makes for many disappointments." —A. Schubach

"Bad brakes discovered at high speed." —J. Baumeister

"After Harvard, had baby with crackhead." —R. Templeton

"I still make coffee for two." —Z. Nelson

The last one especially has that Hemingway-esque quality. Just my cup of tea... or coffee... another note to writers, especially memoir writers: get rid of the cliches.

Anyone want to give it a shot? It's kind of an interesting experience, whether you're writing a story, memoir, title, article... six words. Go.

Here's mine: "Losing faith, I found my voice."

Food for Thought... yum

2007-02-17T11:27:00.000-05:00

So my roommate made some new friends in her EMT class last semester. One kid-- this nice, 20 year old boy-- had never had a friend that was a girl... just "girlfriends." So they become best friends, no big deal. Naturally, she says that she wants to meet his other friends. He's a local kid from South Hadley. But he pretty much tells her straight up that he doesn't think she'll like his friends, and he doesn't want her to think less of him. Well, why? Turns out his friends are racists. Actually, her friend is "a little racist," too. He hopes this doesn't change anything.

Whether it changed anything or not isn't a big deal. But what rubbed me the wrong way was the idea of being "a little racist." What does that even mean? Do you pick and choose who you discriminate against? I could go on, but I don't know: what do you think?

* * *

On a lighter note, I think JesseCat is starting to finally get the concept of "we don't eat from the trash bags at this apartment." He's kind of in his "terrible twos." Poor guy. I think he was sick yesterday, but he has to learn somehow.

She's got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends

2007-02-16T10:41:00.000-05:00

Blog. The word is just funny. I tend to now make the joke "Oh you can read about it in my blog" more often now. But the real funny thing is the other night I realized that random things I blog about come up in everyday "normal" conversations. So I am left wondering: am I blogging about things that are naturally interesting to me to talk about, or is my blog overtaking my life? Maybe I'll be one of those people that can't get enough of the blogosphere. And you'll legit have to "read about it in my blog" to even know I am still alive.

Or maybe I really am just as lame as the random topics I've covered in here... c'est la vie, right?

One of the things that came up the other night, after a long day of binge-Valentining, was the collaborative blog's question about the first kiss. Somehow I just had to talk about the "romantic gesture" thing because 1) I hadn't thought about it in a while, and 2) has anyone else ever done this?

I found myself sitting on my couch with my roommate's boyfriend-type-person's older brother... pulling out some of our "tricks"-- oh have you ever done this?? ohmygod, one time this person did this... so hot.

Somehow this lead into more discussions about "spittin' game" and such (ha ha ha). And somehow "the wink" came up! Now, this guy also pulls off a great wink. But he was well aware that if it wasn't natural, it was a mess; and if it was successful, it was a big win. We laughed at how we both totalllly got it.

Then he said something to the idea that I could pull off the wink.

Um, no. I don't think I'd even try-- definitely not my style.

But he said something like, "Okay, maybe not an official wink... but you do this thing with your eyebrows when you're talking... the way you raise them up and down is like... it's like you're putting the period at the end of a sentence."

I was really impressed with this imagery and kind of excited that he could call me out on it. Like the wink, it's just something natural, and what better thing for me than something that has to do with sentences? I'm pretty much committing my life to academia, the written word, papers, books, syntax, grammar... and my body language pulls off something as simple and as major as that of a period at the end of a sentence. I found it really beautiful and something I wanted to remember.

Hmm...

18 forever

2007-02-13T17:39:00.000-05:00

So last night I took the exam to get TIPS certified. You don't actually need this certification to bartend in Massachusetts (in fact, you don't really need any formal training at all to get behind a bar here). So I'm pretty positive I passed it: knowing when and how to cut off drunks isn't exactly brain surgery.

And I might have my first bartending jobby-job at my old local hang out:

The Palladium

Yeah I know it doesn't look like much, but I spent many a day and many a dollar at this venue back in my days of being so "scene" and so cool, and not having anything else to do or spend money on. I guess the least they can do is give me a job right?

Well, I think that just might happen. Nothing's set in stone yet, but I was taking a look at some of the upcoming shows that I could be working at. Personally I want to attend Jack's Mannequin and Head Automatica (2/21) or the Killswitch Engage Show (2/23). Jack's Mannequin is the sideproject of Something Corporate singer Andrew MacMahon, who was suffering from some awful disease.

Head Automatica is Daryl Palumbo's side project (lead singer for Glassjaw-- still one of the bands I rock out to when I am an angrypants). Funny thing, he was also suffering from an awful disease. Chrohn's disease is serious. Last December (okay, I remember it was exactly Thursday the 27th), I saw Glassjaw for the first time in a very long time. It brought back a lot of nostalgia. We got to stand up on the balcony over the stage, which was sick because I could pretty much spit on Palumbo's head.

Killswitch is sweet because they're local guys and this will definitely be a welcomed homecoming show. I wouldn't mind working this one at all though.

And then the random Public Enemy (3/10) show. I wonder if it is a 10th aniversary thing... or just another type of spin-off thanks to Flavor-Flav. Either way, I guess.

There's a few other concerts I plan on attending this semester. I have no idea what my exact spring break plans are as of yet, but if I'm around I'll probably hit up the Taste of Chaos tour (Tsongas Arena, 3/22). It's pretty much the harder acts of the Warped Tour on a smaller winter tour. The first time I saw The Used, I was backstage at a Finch concert (at The Palladium, nonetheless). I was actually really impressed with their sound, but all I could think of was "Ew, you do kelly Osbourne..." I wrote an article for my school newspaper about that night, but I left out The Used and their lead singer's shananigans-- like when he spit Jack Daniels all over the blatantly straight-edge-fashionably-punk girls. I have some sort of soft spot for 30 Seconds to Mars: I really didn't want to because of the whole Jared Leto thing, but then again,, it is Jared Leto-- dude's talented. The singles out now are so amn catchy, too. I wonder who writes them... Then there's Senses Fail, who I've seen multiple time (I guess every band on this bill is a multi-timer for me). But anyway, they never really disappoint me. I liked when they got harder instead of emo-ing out.

Taking Back Sunday and Underoath are playing at the Mullins Center (4/5), so that's convinient. Again, both bands I have seen a lot of times, but they never really disappoint, so it could be worth it. But then THIRD EYE BLIND is playing 2 weeks later, and I expect that to be awesome. I've never seen them live, and I have a feeling that will be a show where I won't feel too old to be there (Lupo's Heartbreak Hotel 4/19).

Lastly, theres definitely Brand New at the Webster Theater (5/24)-- a graduation present to myself. I won't even get into that one.

It's funny how I'm listening to the same music I did when I was 18... hell, when I was 16. Some of it from even before that. What will my kids think?? yikes.

"I'm gonna stay 18 forever, so we can stay like this forever, and we'll never miss a party, 'cause we keep them going constantly, and we'll never have to listen to anyone about anything, 'cause it's all been done and it's all been said: we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get..."-bn

Past Your Optimus Prime

2007-02-11T15:50:00.000-05:00

"Have you ever felt past your prime?" I pose this question to a couple different people, prefacing it with assurance that this is not a matter of age; it's a matter how you deal with life.

The answers are different than I had expected. Texting the question over to an older male friend who had also recently been through an extended breakup, he answered socially and sexually: something to the affect of having his own home, great job, and an extraordinary libido or something. . . whatever, guy. Posing it to a girlfriend of mine as we gossiped in her car on our way to "buy things because we are acting out," I get the response that most reassures me: (without hesitation) "Oh my God, I felt like that earlier today!" Although we might interpret the question differently (I mean, hello vague-ness), she still takes it personally. So have you ever felt "past your prime?"

For me it's about not doing the things that used to make me happy. Minor things like not singing or reallly dancing anymore. Major things like having crushes, not being jaded, not feeling old, unattractive, not interesting, wasting away... etc. But I guess these could just be chalked up as girl things. Whatever that means.

But that kind of changed this weekend. We were having a big party on Saturday night, so my friends were mostly taking it easy Friday night. Trying to take my general ickiness into my own hands, I decided to head home for the night. Home is only an hour away from apartment, so it made sense to head there. My roommate, who is going through a terribley prolonged breakup, didn't want to be left here alone, so when we woke up Friday morning, and I said I was thinking about going home, she threw out the "I'm coming with you," and that was that.

My home is incredible, by the way. And my bed is one step above incredible. We get there, there's Chinese food waiting for us, I get to hug my mom, and I get to sit in my bed and eat and drink and chill out in front of the tv. Talk about getting away.

At the apartment, getting ready is a major task because we can't dress too much alike or too differently (I've only recently started to notice this because I have never been girly in the fashion sense... not even close). We also have to dress accordingly to the venue of the night-- no hoodies at the club, no dresses at the dirt bar (I say "we" but I don't really mean it: when you have no real fashion sense, you just wear whatever you want... so I guess I get to call the shots a lot when it comes to what "we" wear).

At home though, we took our time, we slowly got around to showering, dressing, and such. We only had a few clothes with us (okay, "going out" clothes), so picking an outfit was easy. We pre-gamed while watching Aladdin, most definitely in the top 5 of all time greatest Disney movies. We laughed, we sang, we quoted, we criticized, fantasized, and visualized (she wants an Aladdin, I want a Raja... is that weird?).

We stroll out to the bar. I decide to give her the taste of Worcester-- meaning I take her to Irish Times and Leitrim's. Irish Times is all right because you have the dark but clean rock club on the first floor, a loungey bar on the second floor, and then the overly loud club scene on the third. This guy, Chad Lamarsh, was playing on the first floor. I knew him because my favorite old manager at Strawberries was kind of obsessed with him. Pretty sure this guy's from Boston. He plays covers with his guitar this night, but I've heard him with his whole band many times. My roommate thinks it'd be funny to hit on him. I encourage this wholeheartedly. I used to date "rockstars," but they are not my scene anymore, so this is extra funny to me.

I hang out with a couple kids from high school that I haven't seen in ages. One of them was the love of my crush-life from like 4th-9th grade. He has a baby now, and he says it's the best thing that's ever happened to him. I want to believe him with everything I've got.

When we're done with Irish Times (I really only like the bottom floor, although I love to dance), we head over to Leitrim's-- the dank, dark bar with much cheaper drinks. I know the bartender, and I love when he smiles and winks at me (it takes a certain person to pull off the wink successfully... because if you can't do it successfully... then it's just a mess). But anyway, when we walk into this bar, it could be the "CH3CH2OH coat", but we seriously feel like we own the place. We do the walk-through, oops guess my friends aren't here, let's go back to the other side because I know that bartender. There's an exceptional amount of dudes in this bar, and they're lining up to buy us drinks... luckily I'm driving.

Here is where we dance. And forget about everyone else. And I think that's what attracts them. We're so into each other, and it is fun. Whenever my eyes leave her, I catch glimpses of those looking at us. For the first time in a very long time I realize: I am back in the game.

This gorgeous kid talks to my roommate, asking her if I was "taken or single." She basically cock blocks me (I'm being vulgar for the funny, don't worry, I'm not like that.. haha) by telling him she's my girlfriend (the excuse given to guys you aren't interested in). After she tells me this, I tell her, "But I really think he's hot" (another phrase I would never use... "hot" refers to a piece of meat... okay, definitely relevant in this situation). She tries to fix her mistakes, but who wants to talk to a guy who won't approach you in the first place? How old are we? Although he was kind of gorgeous, so we can chalk it up as kind of cute.

And then a song from Jock Jams came on. And I almost die right there. It's the Jock Jams like, super mega mix... middle school dance nostalgia (I have a thing for Jock Jams and Coolio) ((in fact, I am going to spread a rumor that Coolio is playing UMass's Southwest Concert.. I figure if I say it enough, it has to come true)). We've befriended a group of frat boys from WPI, and I think we're they only ones doing the YMCA during this mix. And Sharon and me are the only ones who sing the "extra words" to the Hey! Song.

We are super fired up at this point (oh goodness... Jock Jams? Fired up?). We dance-dance like crazy. Like I haven't really danced in a while. The lights come on, and we are still rocking. It has been a good night. A random Brazilian boy pats the light sweat off of my forehead, I'm embarassed... but then he says,"One more..." and he blows down my (low-cut) shirt. I mean, his breath is cool, but... Hi, I'm Kristi, I don't know you, and you have a long, pretty ponytail, and you're mouth is awkwardly close to my breasts... Hiii. I am so taken aback by the whole situation, and I honestly didn't remember it until this very moment. Awkward.

The same Brazilian boy gives me a note written on a cocktail napkin: "I loved you... [some compliment and something about getting my number and lots of elipses]... just to talk..." In fact, he kept saying "just to talk"... sketch. Anyway, we headed out. I saw the bartender I know one last time (yeah, he winked... so solid). And I realized for real, I am back in the game, and next time Mr. Gorgeous gives me the eye, I have every right to walk up to him... or his friend to see if he's taken or single.

*girlish sigh*

The WHY of the Tiger

2007-02-05T11:06:00.000-05:00

Dear Loyal Readers and Fans,

I know the 10 of you probably clicked on my blog link because you heard rumors that there was a picture of a cat doing karaoke. Uncle Jesse did get slightly intoxicated and gave his vocal chords quite the workout. In fact, he didn't even speak for a week after that night-- I think he might have lost his voice. But never fear, this morning he was in my face making awful cat noises that indicate "let me drink from the sink before 8am."

Don't worry. This blog won't be about my cat.

I'm still kind of trying to figure out what I am doing with this blog. I'm currently in a year-long course about memoirs, so maybe this can act as a self-indulgent memoir in the making... you know, so I can think I'm cool now, and then reflect on it in 10 years while I laugh about how lame I was... or cry about how awesome karaoke with Jesse was.

Whatever the case may turn out to be, I like to write about things I know. I'm terrible with fiction. Travelwriting and memoirs are more my speed because then I don't ever feel like I'm lying (this could be some pyschological thing that someone should analyze: for example, if I know I woke up at 9:58, I will not tell someone I woke up at 10... because I would have known exactly what time it was... so I would be kind of lying... you can judge me for this).

So I think this blog will be kind of a storage space for my personal writing, my personal rambling, current stories I want to remember, and maybe things like concert reviews and the random adventures I go on. Because I kind of go to concerts a lot. And I kind of have random adventures a lot. But just remember that I can't write fiction.

So WHY, Kristi? Why must you blog about your life? Meh... I don't know. College is a funny time. I should try to remember as much as I can from it.

So here's the Cliff's Notes on everything that has happened since I have been at UMass:

Freshman year: I get stuck living in my last choice of residence area. I am sad to leave my longterm boyfriend. I decide to suck it up and meet as many cool people as possible. I make a good amount of friends. I party too much; I don't go to class enough; I work really hard at the end of the fall semester to pull of a 2.6GPA. Whoops. The spring comes and I move to the wrong residence area. I party moderately/too much; I manage the 3.0 this semester. I run away to New Jersey for my first Skate'n'Surf Fest in Asbury Park. I eat White Castle for the first time, and I am not impressed. As the weather gets warmer, college becomes incredible. I get myself into some sticky situations. I eat ice-cream instead of dealing with the truth (South Park, anyone?).

Sophomore year: I end up living in the best residence area, in the best hall, with my best friends. I take a yoga class for 2 credits. I start doing well in my classes. The Red Sox win the World Series, and I drunk dial my whole family ("Mom, you probably don't care, but the Sox just won the World Serrriiiiesssahhhhhblah blaha!!!"). My friend Mike approaches me in the Dining Commons. He wants to move off-campus with Jason and Dan... do I want in? I say "yeah" and that's that. People think I am going to hate living with boys, but we have an incredible time. It is probably the most insane time of my life. We move into an apartment building of all students. This apartment complex will never house a building of all students ever again. I run away to New Jersey again, and this time the White Castle tastes amazing. We throw the party of the century. Once again, I get myself into some more sticky situations and choose the ice-cream.

Junior year: I get into a bad car accident with my best friends and probably should have been hurt really badly. I'm not. So we get tattoos. I move in with girls. I am scared of the girls. I become friends with them. They become friends with my friends and all is good. My grades climb higher and higher. I party too much, but even it out by working hard in classes I actually like. I become a tutor in the Writing Center and find a passion in it. Sticky situations keep coming back even when I run away to New Jersey and don't even bother with the White Castle this time. We wish there was a Sonic more closeby. I turn down a summer internship with the Warped Tour because of my mom and am somewhat devastated. But I go to Sicily and am in love with travel and writing. I intern with a travel website. Corporate writing is not my style at all. I run away from sticky situations by living in Amherst for the summer. A boy lives on our couch. I deliver chicken for Wings Over Amherst. I find new sticky situations and don't eat ice-cream.

Senior year: Now. Now. Now. I make a ridiculous amount of money delivering chicken, but I have to quit because I have too many hours in the Writing Center and too much work in my classes. I turn 21 and run away to Vegas. I drink excessively, party too much, but still manage to pull off a 3.97 (who does that? you couldn't have gotten that +.03?). I make some changes in my life to stay out of sticky situations, but life remains just as interesting. I feel kind of old. I stay in Amherst for the winter and take a couple classes. I take a bartending course and ace the exam. I set up the karaoke machine my mom got me for Christmas. Our neighbors must hate us. Everyone else has an easy last semester; I take a full, difficult courseload and a blogging class. It is freezing cold, but we're still ready for fun. I await the stickiest of situations that might involve ice-cream.

And don't forget this guy:

GET INTO IT.

Welcome to the Blogosphere.

2007-01-31T20:55:00.000-05:00

...your mom's a Blogosphere.

I honestly don't know what this blog is going to be about yet. But maybe we'll figure it out together... er, maybe not. Not that I think you are all creepy Internet stalkers or anything. Wait, maybe I do. What is that sound? Me digging my own grave? All right.

Here's a picture of what I did all Winter Break:

(it was an emotional family sing-a-long)

GET INTO IT.