Saturday, December 30, 2006

the gift that keep on (getting re-given)

Greetings, greetings, happy holidays, merry christmas, happy hannukah, happy kwanza, and a merry winter solstice. Ok, enough of the salutations, onto the good stuff.
I know, at least in my family, that every year there is at least one christmas gift that is a multiple...this year it tured out to be a meat thermometer fork for my dad (he got 3 of them). He thought it was funny, I thought it was sad that he didn't realize that we were nicely trying to tell him that he either serves the food still bleeding or as something that more closely resembeles shoe leather.

And then there are the emotional cover ups when gifts are opened. This year, I take the cake. I guess any gift that is prefaced by my Aunt Betty(her heart is in the right place, but the level of taste has not surfaced) with, "Now, there is a story bheing this gift. I bought it, retunred it, and bought it again. I mean I LOVE it, but I know that you aren't me and that I have my own unique sense of taste, but really I Think you'll love it. If not, I kept the tags on it, feel free to return it, but I do think you will love it..." was boudn to be interesteing when opened. And interesting it was. LAdies and gentlemen, may I describe the faux leather (97% PVC, yes people that's what plumbing pipe is made out of) silver purse in the shape of a squished banana with glittery tassles and a odd nickle colored buckle and zipper. "Wow, this is.....different....I don't think I have ever seen anything like this," I mangaed to spit out, all the while pursing my lips and faking a smile. Okay, I admit it, it was a bad cover up, but the purse was just so bad. But the best part of the story is that she cut the tags off, so I couldn't even return it. Now I feel like I need to defend myself here and say that I could care less about the money or even getting somethign else, I know that she bought it with the best intentions, she has a heart of gold, I guess we just dont have the same sense of style. Anyways, she ended my buying my sister something that needed to be exchanged and she mentioned that the purse was on the same recipt. Okay I Thought, I'll just exchange it for a different one. WRONG! She only paid $7.50 for the purse. I guess when she bought itm, returned it, and rebought it, it was well intot he xmas season of discounts and coupons. Oh well, I took the $7.50 and bought myself some new undies (or rather 1 pair, but hey).

On another semi related note, a few days later, while browsing with my mom at Bloomingdales, I saw it. The perfect winter purse. And so I bought it. My mom insited that there was no reason not to, and I- being in a funk knowing that I needed to head back to sschool in a few days, thought that I desereved it (and that somehow it would make my life better). Well my life is still the same, but at least now I am carrying my "baggage" in style.

Saturday, December 16, 2006


Hello dear friends. Despite your notion that I have left Philly to return to Beantown, I have not. Instead I have spent the last 1 1/2 weeks as stand-in mommy/grandma/nanny/child protector/babysitter/child bitch~servant.
To the money gods, AMEN! You have replenished my bank account with a surplus (no less!).
To the sanity gods, anti-amen (if that's a word).

I would love to share some of the comical tales of woe that I have lately endured.

I'm not sure the best way to break this down: by family? by day? by scenario? I guess we can go by family and then that will lead to the scenarios. Just let me preface all of these stories by saying that I love these children dearly, and I hold no grudges for their actions (I am thankful however, for these past 2 weeks have given a heightened importance of necessity of the almighty birth control)

The boys- R (3) and J (15 months).
1. R precedes to insist on helping with the laundry, including pouring the detergent "in" (and by that I mean, unscrewing the cap, turning the container of Tide upside down, spilling the contents all of the floor, rubbing his hands in the soapy blue mess, wiping his eyes with his soapy hands, screaming at the top of his lungs that the soap "ittssssss stiiiiinnnngggg--ennnn--innnggg". No shit! Damage control. Have you ever tried to an eye wash on a 3 year? Well don't bother, despite my $200,000 nursing education, I still failed miserably at the task. Instead I sprayed his eyes with the faucet in the kitchen sink.
2. J eating the dogs food out of the dish and barking back at the dog when the dog tried to claim its territory.
3. R feeding J his pizza that the dog had already licked, J peeling the cheese off and throwing it. In an attempt to save dinner, J was given a bowl of spaghetti, of which he took the individual strands of angel hair pasta and giggled as he dropped them onto the dogs head. The dog (confused by the falling food), starting to bark and chase her tail, who knocked R over as he hopped out of his chair to chase her, who then proceeded to pick the spaghetti off the dog-now laden with dog hair, and eat it.
4. Bath time: Two boys, 1 bath tub, 1 babysitter, 1 bottle of Johnson & Johnson shampoo, 1 cup to wash the hair= R getting mad that J splashed him, hitting Joe over the head with the shampoo bottle, which squirted out at me and landed on my chest and Ryan saying "Oh no Miss Kelly, you need water", followed by the action (before I could even speak) of him dumping the cup of water down the front of my chest
5. The chocolate milk: lets just say that a confusion of two sippy cups (both green with yellow covers-what are the odds with the multiude of combinations of colors) with the cup of old chocolate milk that must have rolled under the couch with the freshly poured one for lunch.......Oh yes, we had a cup of chocolate cottage cheese..yum?!?!

the girls: M (5), L (2)
1. M's 45 minute temper tantrum because she was only allowed a 1/2 of the jumbo pita (after she had already wasted her sandwitch, slice of banana bread, cup of milk, apple. and banana). I'm pretty sure she told me that, "You are the most annoyingist baby watcher and I am going to tell Santa Claus and then I am not going to invite you to my party on my birthday!" (mind you, I just hosted her birthday party 3 weeks ago) and for the record, she didn't even eat the 1/2 of pita instead she instead that it was "grainy" (isn't that what whole wheat is???). However, on a better note, she gave me a hug when I left at the end of the day
2. L getting mad at M at Burger King because she dipped her fries in L's ketchup cup and then proceeding to dump her cup of water on M's sandwitch, that M picked up and threw across the table that landed on my lap (oh yes, I love a ketchup and mustard covered crotch! Bonus to the Burger King escapade the snide remark from the lady behind the counter about the "young mother" not being able to control her kids...GIVE ME AN F'ING BREAK LADY! YOU WORK AT Burger King, THE KIDS AREN'T MINE, AND THERE WERE NO YELLS, SCREAMS, OR TANTRUMS IN PUBLIC.
3. L taking the magic markers and "make-up ing" herself.....think drag queen gone WAY bad. Oh well, thank god for washable markers.
4. M telling me that she didn't like the way my hair looked (in a pony tail) and that I needed to take lessons from her mom about how to "do hair".....funny though, because she insisted that I braid hers before I left.

Okay, so those are just some of the highlights. Maybe to appreciate them you needed to be there, but in any event..that is what I have been up to. Now Tomorrow is the real departure back to Beantown.

Stay tuned....Christmas with the Sessler's is always entertaining.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Bran brigade

I am a nursing student; I feel comfortable using the words penis, vagina, sex, sexually transmitted diseases, urine, feces, shit, poop, pee, breast, boob; I am not flustered by projectile vomiting or other bodily functions, bed pans don't scare me, and bugars..well, It think they are best in a tissue, but hey, it's all good.

Why is it that I can feel so comfortable in these situations, but still be so awkward in others. Take for example my encounter with the man at Bucks County Coffee...

I have always prided myself on being honest, so yesterday morning at the coffee shop when I thought I got back a $1 extra in change, I said, "um..I think you gave me a dollar extra."
The man looked confused, looked back at his screen and said to the other guy, "Did I do something wrong? She should have $3.02 in change?!?"
They agreed, that I was wrong, so I joked, "can you tell it's finals time? Clearly, I haven't been sleeping enough."
TO which the guy replied, "well good thing for the coffee."
But I said, "oh, I didn't get coffee, I got a raisin bran muffin......"
He looked around, squinched his face and said, "well I think I heard that bran makes you concentrate!"
But the other guy behind the counter said, "no retard, bran makes you poop!!"

Orf course this all took place in a very busy coffe shop on a Monday morning during reading days where college students live off of caffeine and camp out in the coffee shops in the sweats to study/cram/open a book for the first time all semester. But anyways, I was a little taken back by the baristas bold comment and I just sort of chuckled and walked away. I guess it would have been the end to this saga, had I not gone and sat at the table to read and then proceed to listen to the these 2 grown men banter back and forth about the "things that make you go poop!"
Were they for real? I mean, come on people. This is a food establishment, NOT a bathroom. I guess its funny that the idea behind the conversation seemed okay, I can't think back to a family holiday dinner that didn't somehow turn into bathroom tale horrors (hey, we may not be the Cleavers, but we are a far cry from the Osbournes!).

After having learned more about these two men than I ever cared to, I packed up and left. Not going to lie, I definitely thought twice before I walked in there this morning, but I figured that the chances were slim that a) the same people would be working and b) that they would remember the face that spurred the bran debate.

Well, two strikes for me!

I no sooner walked up to the counter, then the kid said, "Hey. how was that muffin? Were you able to "concentrate?"

Jeez kid, you so belong here at win the awkward awkward, and let me tell you- that's a tall order because you are competiting with the best of best of Penn boys who are the archtyes of the sort.

I chuckled at his lame remark and ordered a coffee (yes, just a coffee, no bran today!) and paid as fast as I could. And that just about sums it up.

Life lesson: caffeine helps you concentrate, bran helps you poop.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Shit out of luck

I have been sitting here at my computer for a good 15 minutes tapping away at the keys, then furiously hitting the delete key, then making squinty faces, and again wondering, what on earth can I write about?

Update of my life: I am now officially a 2nd semester senior. It became official at approximately 2:57 pm on wednesday the 6th day of December after I had finished the 2nd final of the day, handed in a final paper, and completed a group project. I don't think that I have breathed such a large sigh of relief in quite some time, then again, it wasn't really "breathing" because my sinus have been plugged (but are now gloriously draining) with green shit since before Thanksgiving.
But now I can rest, take a load off and get some well needed rest. And by rest I mean, babysitting a good 5 days a week, shopping in my offtime, cooking to feed the hungry bellies of all my friends who are painfully enduring finals, and of course getting lots of good sweat time in at the gym. But this is the kind of life I like. I get a sick pleasure out of being overbooked, scheduled to the minute (amen for day planners and post it notes), and doing for others. Oh wait, I see the light, I know what sort of random insanity I am going to enlighten you with....

My day planner: "Her what?" I am sure you asking yourself, "give me a break, no one gives a rats ass about her day planner." Okay, so I am not going to write about my day planner (although it is a lovely eggplant colored leather coach one with lots of calendars, phone numbers, and note pages). So here it is, what I really want to write about.....satisfaction with accomplishments, deadlines, and tasks.

Do you ever write sometime down on your "to-do" list, just so you can get the satisfaction of crossing it off? You must admit, there is nothing like a nice solid (----------) through a tasks. No? Well are you more of a [x] (box checker)? If fall into either one of these categories then you know what I am getting at. Who cares if you already started that outline, or read that paper, or met with your friend for lunch at noon...its worthwhile to write it down, to be able to mark it done.

I guess I am not going anywhere logical with this, but I'll just ramble on tangentially...
One of the biggest differences that I noticed between high school and college was the ability to get ahead. In highschool, you knew what had to be done for the night, even the week and you could pretty much plug along at the work, but when you were done, you were really DONE. The test taking, or paper writing was the final culmination of the week or two's worth of knowledge acquisition. I recall days where I was distressed that I had so much "stuff" to do that I couldn't complete anything, but only begin a few things.....If only I had known what the next 4 years of college held in store.

Welcome to college. The place where on the 1st day of class you are told about everything that you will cover in the course, everything that you should be doing outside of the class to prepare, what the "required" and "recommended" readings are (from my experience, only pay attention to the former...I swear professors get kick backs for plugging their colleagues latest work). But all that you really key in and listen to is forms of assessment (how many papers, how long they have to be, how may tests and are they cumulative, and most there extra credit?)
No lie, the first week of classes freshman year, I was ready to have an anxiety attack. I had these 5 page syllabi for the ENTIRE semester and I always knew what was coming next. I would no sooner finish up the assigned work, but then I felt like I should be moving onto the next assignment. I realized that this WAS NOT LOGICAL, nor was it good for my sanity OR social life...but only after I spent an entire weekend reading 3 books for my American societies class, only to go in an take the "Quest" (way to long to be a quiz, but not counted as much as a test) and realize that I couldn't;t remember shit from any of the books, everything blurred together. In fact, I was jealous of the kids who had skimmed only 1 book because at least they could bullshit an essay- it may have been vague, but at least they kept the theories, philosophers, and implications my mind, it seemed sensical that Darwin's theory of economics shaped the ideals of the American Revolution.
AND THAT IS WHERE IT ALL CHANGED. Welcome to college, the game isn't getting ahead, its staying afloat. Since making this realization my life has been much better. You all know me, well unless you are some crazy blog stalker who enjoys reading random people's musings, and yes, I still get stressed, still like to get it all done, still am looking for that vertical symmetry in the grades, but lets face it...You can't have it all...
Learn to live: enjoy your friends with all of their quirks, take advantage of all that the city has to offer (24 hour WaWa's, lots of homeless people, taxi cab drivers who make you thankful for seatbelts), realize that coffee tastes best when you make it yourself on a cold snowy Saturday morning while you sip it in your pajamas, that the world won't end if you have to go to class with a wild set of curls because you overselpt and didn't have time to straighten your hair, that no one will remember if you wore those jeans out to Smokes last night and are wearing them again today, that sometimes you have to go to happy hour at Mad4Mex on a Tuesday for your mental health, that boxed Franzia wine gets you just as drunk as the $200 domperrigon, that hooking up with multiple boys in the same fraternity will more than likely get your name "out there" (for better or worse), that homemade cookies do wonders for the people you care about, that an apple a day (if its from Fresh Grocer) WILL NOT keep the doctor away but rather send you to the ER with e.coli, that fall and spring break are perfectly timed to allow you to regain mental composure despite the weeks before and after sucking more than words can express, and that wasting time on Facebook, Wikipedia, and UTube are all perfectly acceptable.

So I know that this post didn't really flow, but I guess the take home message is: enjoy what ya got, and what ya gotta do.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Drivers Ed

Let me be the first to remind you all that I am from Massachusetts...home to the "Mass-hole". We are the only state where it's normal to been seen in the daily commute: applying eyeliner, drinking coffee, screaming into the cell phone (something obscene about the Big Dig, I'm sure), reading the newspaper, and giving someone the finger....Oh and if you are a parent, glimpsing into the rear view mirror to see if your kid is still picking their nose in the car seat and/or wailing in their siblings with that 7 am "I wish I were still sleeping rage".

Why paint this picture, one may ask?

It's simple, today, I reached my wits end with drivers here in PA. If it wasn't bad enough that I got stuck behind the trolley on Baltimore Pike, but it was also perfectly timed that the trolley would come to a stop at the exact moment that the light turned green, only to take just long enough unloading the natives, that the light turned to red again and I got to sit at not only the green light, but also the red one.....ahh yes, it most certainly did take me 50 minutes to drive 8.6 miles to Swarthmore today.

Adding insult to injury, a homeless man gave me the finger. Well, I suppose I am making an unfair assumption that the man was homeless...but judging by his shopping cart full of trash picked treats, his dirty than a gardeners fingernails, the straight out of Vogue fashion (i.e 80's acid washed jeans, blue flannel shirt, and wanna-be Timberland construction boots, with NO shoe-I mean, "boot laces")...I am going to make the executive decision that this guy wasn't living the Park Avenue lifestyle. (Or as would be seen in the Philly area, the "Main Line" lifestyle).

I suppose you are wondering why I noticed such miniscule details about this individual, but don't forget I spent double the time at each of the 22 lights on my way to the suburbs. But I digress and back to my tale of woe.

At approximately light number 10 (right after the abandoned block of convenience stores) and before the "Adult entertainment Stop" I am just sitting there singing along to my Christmas carols (you should all be thankful that the windows were up, of my many talents, singing is NOT one of them) when I see my pal standing there trying to cross the other side of traffic. (I was at one of the bizarre 3 way lights-yet some how its an "X" intersection...hey, I can't pass judgment, in MA we have those God Damn if you are up for a good time, throw an inexperienced driver into one of those and just see the accidents that insurance salesmen dream of this at night "zzzz$$$$$zzzz"). Ok, so in an attempt to be a good person, I didn't go when the light immediately turned green and I waved the man across. Well what did I get in return? Two things...1) an OBNOXIOUS honk from the man in his pimped out early 1990's Chrysler mini-van, and 2) the finger from the homeless man!
"WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me", I thought. At this point the man is now standing in the middle of the traffic and flailing his arms and cursing at me (one of my cervant talents is lip reading...Ok, maybe its not cervant, more like nosy). I was rather taken back at this mans hysteria, but whatever, as soon as he moved, I would just drive away.

So I waited, and waited, but did the man move? NOPE! He just paced back and forth. He was now holding up two sides of traffic and the horns just kept getting louder. I wish I could say that this story got more exciting, but it really doesn't after about out 2 minutes of this, I guess he lost interest and proceeded to push his cart full of treasures across the street and take a corner turn. So if the story ends there, why am I still writing? It's simple, I need to rant about 2 more things....

#1 Horn Honking: GIVE ME A BREAK PEOPLE! Horns were made to alert people, not to aid in being an asshole! If traffic is stopped and NOT moving, do you really think that the obnoxious sound will change the traffic pattern.Chances are that the car 3 people up has their music blaring and doesn't even hear your little toot, nor do they give a shit about it, so why bother. Its seems futile. So for the sake of all mankind, don't honk out of hostility.

#2 Decked out (ghettofied mini-vans): I am the first to admit that we cannot all drive Jag's and Bentleys (although apparently this is news to 95% of the kids I graduated highschool with, and approximately 99% of the kids here at Penn), but come one people....Do you really think it looks cool to put $300 silver spinny rims on a rusted and wood paneled mini-van? Maybe the car was your graduation gift, maybe it was a present for getting off probation. I don't know, nor is it any of my business, but I am still flabbergasted every time I see a car that is decked out with more bling than the actual value of the car. And it's certain that the music heard blaring from the "system" inside is something from the hip-hop/rap genre. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that music all the same, but for the love of God, mini-vans are for soccer moms, not street savvy "thugs".

Alright, now before I go on and offend anyone else, I'm going to stop. I've spoken my peace, but I would love to know your thoughts.......Leave comments if it strikes your fancy.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

The Blue Sugar

Forgive me but I have a confession, I like the blue sugar.
I'm sorry Mr. Sweet-n-Lo, and Miss Splenda, but my love goes out to the ambiguous equal.
Normally, I wouldn't sit at my computer typing away on a Sunday night about such a seemingly senseless topic, but I need to unwind, well that and I had an experience this weekend that provoked my thoughts on the topic.
So this morning, after my daily visit to the gym, with my ipod (the new and so not broken one, I may add) blaring, and the goose bumps on my legs appearing (clearly I didn't wear pants, I mean it had to be a whopping 40 degrees this morning) I was walking home.
I passed the WaWA but didn't stop for coffee, (the last cup I got there had all the grit on the bottom)-
I passed by Starbucks but didn't stop (I thought that I would give my bursar bill a day off, haha)-
I passed by Bucks County Coffee but didn't stop (the boy sitting by the door was too cute and I couldn't dare walk in looking as post-workout nasty as I did), and then after thinking, wow, its pretty pathetic that on the upper 1/3 of campus alone there are 3 coffee shops, I arrived at my door and was eagerly anticipating my morning cup of Jo.
So I fumbled around in the kitchen, dumping gout the old filter, putting in afresh one, carefully measuring out the 5 spoons of grinds of the yummy, delicious Gevalia coffee (I know, I know...I'm a sucker for the mail order coffee, but I swear, I originally just joined the club for the free coffee pot and travel mug) and then I let it brew. I took my shower, got dressed, and went back to the kitchen--ahh, the air smelled marvelous! I grabbed my favorite mug and opened the refrigerator, problem number one: no milk- well I had soymilk, but for the little amount that I put in my coffee, I allow myself the bit of dairy and go for the skim milk...but like I said, I didn't have any. So I "borrowed" (read, stole) approximately 2 teaspoons of her milk, then I opened the cabinet and reached up into the box of equal, uh-oh two packets left. Oh well, I dumped one in and poured my coffee...instant curdles. Shit! Clearly, I wasn't in the mood for "cottage cheese" with a little bit of coffee, so I dumped it out.
Rather annoyed, I threw on my shoes and ran to Fresh Grocer for some milk. I scrambled through the extremely un-organized isles (if you have never been inside this establishment consider yourself lucky, it's the only grocery store I know of that a) didn't hire an architect when it was built hence the diagonal isles that are barely wide enough to accommodate some of the rather obese philadelphians that frequent the establishment, b) has tampons in the same isle as dried fruit, and c) has a manager that literally NEVER leaves, as in throughout the 4 years I have been at Penn, every single time I have been there (including drunken 3 am runs freshman year to the "bulk candy" section), this man is present)). With the milk in hand I hopped into the express checkout line, well I should have guessed that it wouldn't;t be speedy, as the lady in front of me bitched over not being able to use her TEN CENT coupon that expired yesterday and then proceeded to pay her $3.57 bill with dimes, nickels, and pennies. Oh vey!! Finally I checked out and sprinted back home, only to realize that forgot to buy more Equal, oh well, I only had one more cup of coffee left, after the spoiled milk incident. So I wash out the mug, pour in the milk and reach for the last packet of equal..wait, why does it feel so light?!?! Shit take 2! It's just an empty wrapper. Dear god, what is going on here? Is this a sign? Frustrated, thought about dumping the coffee down the drain, but I didn't. Instead, I went back out, but this time ran into Bucks County, thank god the cute boy was gone, but I slyly crept over to the beverage prep center and reached for the.....WHAT?!?! You have got to be kidding me, no equal? No so Sweet-n-Lo, not even any splenda? All they have is "Sugar in the Raw?" Now I am all for organic, infact that's typically what I choose, but when it comes to my coffee, all it really like is that blue delight. Seeing as I wasn't a paying customer, I didn't think I could say, "excuse me 'Mr.Barrista Man' but could I possibly have some sugar substitute for the coffee that I am NOT buying here?"
Disheartened, I left and went back home. And what do I see when I open the kitchen door, lonely cup of Jo, just sitting there, waiting for me.....
Oh well, I guess it wasn't meant to be.
I poured the coffee out, turned the coffee pot off (oh yeah, the free one), and cracked open a diet sprite.
Better luck next time???

Wednesday, November 15, 2006


Seven days.
Then it's Thanksgiving break.
Welcome back to: final draft of my senior thesis, article for publication submission/independent inquiry, community intervention group project and presentation, and two exams.
Is the end in sight?

I must admit, my emotions lately have been much of a roller coaster. With thoughts of graduating and heading out into the "real world" being clouded by the options to stay here for one more year and finish my MSN with a year of full time grad school, I feel a little lost. Today, while sitting through my 7th straight hour of class (none of where the lecturers had posted notes and/or an outline to follow, I found myself day dreaming. And just where did my dreams take me? Back to preschool where I was all dressed up as Flopsy from the Peter Rabbit school play that we put on, to sitting in kindergarten art class where I was crying because Dan told me that I drew a pig nose on my self portrait, to first grade where I proudly handed out pink bubble gum jelly beans when my baby sister was born, to second grade when I got scolded for stealing a piece of gum from the candy jar, to third grade when I was devastated that my teacher didn't really believe in homework (hey, I was a little bit nerdy), to fourth grade when I got my tonsils removed, to fifth grade where I infatuated with wearing the latest apparel from Limited Too (matching scrunchie and all!!), to 6th grade where I had the tightest group of 5 friends and I walked the halls of middle school with confidence, to 7th grade where I remember the butterflies in my stomach as we played spin the bottle or went to school dances, to 8th grade where (well I actually detested 8th grade so I have no fond memories, yes- I know, it's sad), to 9th grade when our swim team won the hocking league and the TG's were created, to 10th grade where my return to school with a change in appearance prompted lots of positive attention, to 11th grade where I finally got the boy who made me feel like a princess, and to 12th grade where so much was gained in wisdom and experience, yet lost in a whirl wind of fast paced deadlines.
It's funny how selective memory works. More often than not, we remember the good and try to forget the bad, yet its the bad experiences that help build our resilience and make us who we are today. I don't know if I am going anywhere with the train of thought, but my 4th lecturer of the day today was one of the most phenomenal speakers that I have ever heard. He spoke of how to talk and interact with adolescents and emphasized four principles of building a therapeutic relationship:
1) set the stage: emphasize privacy, express honesty, explain your metholodogy/school of thinking, and remain non-judgmental
2) Shift the model of care to take the shame out of the behaviors
3) recognize that adult models of learning and teaching (i.e. lecturing) don't work on adolescents and that they actually backfire
4) realize that stress drives negative behavior and go equipped with tools to teach positive coping strategies.

WOW- powerful stuff. It just keeps me thinking, if only some of the people who I have met along the way had known these strategies...

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

The Beginning

Well for anyone who knows me, they are probably in shock that I have started to blog...Writing is not/never has been/most likely never will be my strong point. As my freshman college writing professor denounced to me, "You have a penchant for writing superfluous nothing" or as my highschool English teacher said, "you need to write LESS and say MORE."
I guess I have been doing a great deal of thinking lately about life. Maybe it started when I saw the sign that read: "ATTENTION SENIORS- as of March 31st you will no longer be able to bursar" (eeks!!!), or when I went and had my senior portraits taken with cap and gown (double eeks!), or perhaps it was my realization this past weekend that this was last fall break I was going to experience during my undergraduate college career. Time sure has flown by these last four years- definitely not at a loss for memories, the good- the bad- and (oh yes) the ugly. But I remember where it all began....
We pulled up in front of Hill House in my moms silver minimum; actually we pulled up after circling the block a few times because each time we passed Hill, I kept say, "No- that's not it. That place looks like a dungeon." Either my paretns were taking pitty on me (after all, I had cried for a good 24 hours after I got my housing assignment because I was 'quad reject') or they were absorbed in their own thoughts of sending their first born off to college. After getting the bright pink parking permit, we turned off the car and began to unload. My parents were great, my moms super organizational skills and my dads attention to detail made move-in easy (well as easy as it could be, considering that there was only 1 (yes 1!) old and rickety elevator to move in all 500+ residents). After unpacking and realizing that my room was indeed the size of some parents master bathrooms and/or walk-in closets, I decided to go get my Penn Card. Yup, this would be the first taste of belonging to Penn (not at Penn~that came later, but to Penn)--$40,000+ a year and they still charge you $15 for an ID.
Standing back in the hill lobby,with sweat rolling down my neck and my parents beginning to look worn and weary, I looked around and said, "what is this place?!?! IF do not see one American looking boy, I'm outta here- get me a transfer application!" My parents burst out laughing but I was dead serious. I found out later that because I moved in 5 days early (I was headed off to the freshman Pennacle program) that it was actually international student move-in day....phew, there would be some "American" boys, and by that all I meant was boys like I went to high school with- upper middle class, preppy white guys who are socially awkward unless they are drunk and at that have no clue what a relationship is. But I digress, not to say that I wasn't steadfast about longing for my "home boys" but I was definitely blind to the world of opporunity and very unique and amazing people that I would meet over the next four years.
So I guess that's it. That's they way it all began. Four years have quickly passed and I love to reflect back on all the fun (and maybe some of the less than fun) times here.

Stay tuned....