Written Communication

Im afraid I'm going to lose all ability to communicate orally. It seems that I only talk to people now through aim, emails, facebook comments and, most of all, text messaging. If theres any possible way I can, I will choose texting over an actual phone call. Though it may be less personal, the bright side is that I get to keep mementos of my friends funny comments . This weekend, while visiting my friend Natalie in DC, the quality of text messages I sent and received seemed to be at an all time high. Some were funny, some were touching, and others were just plane strange. For instance, my cousin's fiance sent me a text at 3 in the morning saying simply "The bald eagle stole the bacon". I dont know what this means or why I got it. I can only assume that he was drunk ( well, thats actually pretty much a definite) and that he sent the message to the wrong person. But considering my cousin Liz and I called him last weekend to tell him how much we liked him over his fiance, my cousin and her sister Emily, I guess its only fair that he gets to be weird and creepy too.

Another great text I got was from my friend Morgan. Morgan, who works with me in Block Island and lives out there through the winter, sent me a video of the 007s, my fav Block Island cover band, to tide me over until I get back there and can see them live. Unfortunately though my phone doesn't accept video messages so i had to go online to view it. Furthermore, It didn't come out clearly so, although I THOUGHT I saw two people in the background making out, it was really just two people, standing probably a good ten feet away from each other. So when I sent Morgan texts back asking who was making out, he was clearly confused, and probably thought I was also a bit of a pervert.

My love of texting has also helped me come up with a new party pastime. On Saturday night, Natalie and her roommates had a houseparty for her birthday at their apartment. I had a really good time and all her friends were really friendly, but there were inevitably times when I was without someone to talk to. I decided to spend that time taking pictures of Natalie while she wasnt looking, and then I would send them to her on her phone. Its super creepy, I know, but really funny to see her looks of confusion when she received repeated pictures of herself taken just moments before. Yeah, I'm kinda bizarre.

Really, though, the best part about text messaging is that you don't have to worry abut your phone going off at inopportune times. Rather than a long, obnoxious ring, all you get is a quick beep. I was reminded of how much I prefer this when, on the bus ride home, my friend Sara gave me a call. Several weeks ago I changed Sara's ringer to C.R.E.A.M by The Wutang Clan. Its funny because Sara is probably the whitest person I know, and I doubt if she could even name a Wutang song if asked. But what isn't funny is having loud hardcore rap blast over the quiet bus, drawing attention to me, the equally white girl in the lime green turtleneck and UGGS. However, I wasn't smart enough to change her ringtone afterwards, so really Im just setting myself up for future embarrassment. Luckily, though, my phone rings so rarely that the chances it will happen anytime soon are slim.

Some people aren't in to the texting, but I think it will always be my preferred mode of communication. Its quick, convenient, and can be utilized pretty much anywhere. So mock me if you must but, if you do, expect a really mean text from me about it later. I can write a damn good one too-- I have the practice.

A Glimpse of Hope?

Throughout college, all I've done is read articles proclaiming how difficult it is these days for recent grads to find a job. On top of that, liberal arts majors--and particularly psych majors-- are earning some of the lowest salaries. So imagine my surprise when I opened up the lastest "Top Paying Jobs for Recent Grads" article and read this:


"With less than four months to go before saying sayonara to the quad for good, the class of 2007 is finding it easier than recent classes to get their foot in the work world.

Employers have said they expect to hire 17.4 percent more college grads than they did last year, and in many instances they plan to pay them more, too, according to a survey released this week by the National Association of Colleges and Employers (NACE)."



Finally! I knew something would change! I knew I wouldn't be completely screwed when I graduate. It may have taken three and a half years, but things have turned around right in time!

Wait...whats that? What does that say at the end?:


"There have been slight decreases in the average starting salary offers for just a few majors, but NACE notes that given that it's still early in the hiring season and the job market is strong for college grads, salary offers may improve in the next few months:

* Logistics/Materials management: Down 1.8 percent to $43,294
* Liberal arts (including psychology, political science history, English): Down 1.1 percent to $30,502"


Crap.

Just Try It

I challenge anyone and everyone out there to watch The VH1 Behind the Music of Nick Lachey and not be touched. I was just glued to the TV for an hour, and I am an even more in love with him than I was before. Jessica Simpson, you are a fucking idiot.

Bringing Baskets Back

Its offcial: I don't know how to come home for the weekend and NOT make a scene. But this weekend might top all, as Im still hungover 36 hours later, and my mother has banned me from returning this coming weekend.

Last weekend, my mom asked me to come home, box up my room, and help organize things for our upcoming move. I obliged, figuring I'd take it easy Friday night, wake up and help out on Saturday, and then go out for the night with some friends. So after getting into Philly on Friday, I went out with my parents and grandmother for a nice relaxing dinner. We ordered a little wine and had a long, talkative dinner. It was a really nice time and a lot of fun. Afterwards, I was ready to go home, curl up and watch a movie, and go to bed, but my dad, having had a few and starting to feel sociable, insited we stop at my Aunt Donna's house. Three glasses of their homemade wine later, I was surpisingly wasted. Not drunk, WASTED. The next day I was so hungover that it was entirely impossible for me to do any work. To be fair, though, it wasnt really my fault as I was poisoned by this deceptive vino. That night I was going to stay in, but at the last minute recovered and decided to meet up with some friends. 7:30 the next morning, my Mom found me and my friend Meg drinking beers and ordering Umbro shorts online (don't ask). I ended up sleeping until 2:30 that day, and didn't get a single thing done like I promised.

Which is why I returned this weekend, to do the work I should have before. I went to bed early Friday night and got my whole room boxed up the next day. Feeling somewhat accomplished, I was ready to go out and see my friends. Since it was one of those one-in-a-million nights when my parents had somewhere to go on a Saturday night, I had no one to make me dinner, and therefore decided to go out for my meal. I recruited my friend Chris to join me, and we had a lovely little date at Fatty's, even though he pretty much berated me the entire time for ordering a veggie burger. We planned to go to Towey's afterwards, where its always a safe bet you'll run into someone you know, but were surprised by the news that a chunk of our friends were going into Manayunk for my friend Meg's bday celebration. So with 90% of our ten friends going there, we had nothing to do but jump on the bandwagon.

We hungout at Flat Rocks for awhile, a great experience since I had never been. Its a pretty simple bar, but is distinguished for having several dozen different types of exotic beers. I found this impressive, but it didnt stop me from ordering a Coors Light, or for getting mad when I was told they didnt have it. Somehow, though, I got over the loss and moved on, and I even warmed up enough to take several hundred pictures with Meg and her ugly neon green glasses. I think her goal to have everyone take a picture in them was met beyond her wildest dreams.

After Flat Rocks we ofcourse did what we always do-- An after-party at my house. I was somewhat reluctant at first, but since my parents only told me not to party until morning again, I figured that didnt include a late night that ended just shortly before. A bunch of people came back, and we all acted like the degenerates we are. I can remember looking at pictures of my parents from the 70s and seeing the wierdest things- hat parties, guys in drag, my Uncle Vince- it was all strange stuff. But as I was taking the basket off my head to start making a fort out of the 2 dozen empty boxes in our kitchen, it suddenly hit me that I have topped them in bizarre drunken behavior. It wasn't an easy task, but somehow it was done.

We had a long, wild party, but we managed to end things before dawn as I had promised. However, when I awoke later that day, my parents were not thrilled. Despite my expectations, they did not enjoy the fort I had built, and the random articles of clothing they found lying around concerned them greatly. This is why, my friends, I'm not allowed home next weekend if ever again. My parents officially hate me, and are ashamed to have me as their daughter. Its a tough fact to accept but, ya know what, it was still worth it.

You Crazy, White People

When I woke up this morning, at a thick 7 am, I immedietely checked weather.com, as I always do during the winter months. As it has said for the past week or so, the weather was at about 10 degrees fahrenheit with an expected high of about 20. Add in the windchill, and the warmest it would feel all day was about 12 degrees

So, of course, I geared up: on top of my tanktop and long sleeved shirt, I added a sweatshirt, scarf, gloves, and my thick black bubble jacket. On my feet were a giant pair of socks and snug sneakers. Prepared to face the worse, I waddled outside, suddenly relating to Randy, the lovable character from A Christmas Story. Yet, despite all the padding, I was still cold, and hurried to catch the bus to my 8:30 class.

Still delirious from the cold, I rushed on to the bus and coincidentally wound up sitting next to my friend Geanilda. I hadn't recoginzed her at first, since like me she was completely bundled, with her face halfway concealed by her giant scarf and her knit hat pulled down tight to her eyes. Geanilda and I met during our semester in Madrid, and I was instantly drawn to her strong sense of humor and friendly- yet blunt- demeaner. We chatted on the bus ride over- mostly about the good times back in Spain, but a little bit about our upcoming Bio quiz- and before we knew it, we had pulled up to class.

Immedietely after we walked out, however, Geanilda puts her arm out across my chest, stops me, and asks "What's wrong with you white people". Though I assumed her concern was right, whatever it was she was talking about, I was taken aback and extremely confused. " Well..." I began. "Where should I start?"

"No, no no. Look at that girl," she said pointing to the blond girl in Pink capris walking in front of us. " Why do you dress like that in this weather? Its freezing!"

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. She was so right. I myself had noticed it just that morning- a girl in FLIP FLOPS for Christs sake! Fifteen degrees outside and this girlie's got her toes exposed to 20 MPH wind. And in the past weeks too I saw tons of girls at my school walking around in their oh-so-cute tights and ballet flats in single digit weather! Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE the tights. I ROCK the tights. But in appropriate weather ONLY- say 50 or above. This week was NOT a week for tights.

However, unlike Geanilda, I had not taken into account the role one's whiteness played in this phenomenon. Yet, in hindsight, I knew it was only white people- mainly girls- who were refusing to dress weather appropriate. Why?, we wondered. Why would these girls choose to dress as they do? Do they not feel the bitter, sharp winds biting at their skin? Or do they just ignore it in an effort to look cute? Geanilda thinks its an adoptation thing. Unlike her Dominican relatives, other hispanics, and African Americans, white folks typically come from a more "arctic" environment. I, however, refused to accept that explination: Italy, after all, is fairly warm, and Ireland and England, though terribly rainy, do experience summer temperatures. Hell, the entire Jewish population originated in the friggin desert!

So, after much contemplation, I could only accept one explanation for the bizarre, irrational behavior of white people, an explanation I've used for most of my life: White people...well... they're just damn crazy!

My Crazy Folks

After going home this weekend, something has become abundantly clear- my parents are totally bizarre. Maybe its because they are getting older or maybe its because Im getting older and more perceptive, but I've realized how many wierd quirks they have. Here's a few things that came up this weekend:

Some people drunk-dial. My dad drunk-shows the fuck up at your house. After dinner with my grandmother on Friday night, my dad decides he wants to stop by my Aunt Donna's house. He actually made me call her and tel her- not ask her, but tell her- that we were coming over. He pulled over at Beer-To-Go and picked up a six pack to bring with him. Coincidentally, I made the unfortunate decision of drinking my uncle John's homemade wine- or monshine as we like to call it. Its pretty much pure gasoline, and I spent all Saturday sleeping on our back couch, close to throwing up with every movement.

When I was younger, my Mom was far from the over-protective mother. "Get it yourself" and "Well, what do you want me to do about it" were lines I often heard. Now, though, she is entirely consumed with my well-being. Before I left to come back here, she made sure I had on gloves, a scarf, and a hat because she was "concerned about the cold". This from the woman who used to let me swim in the ocean in January.

During my state of hung-overness on Saturday, I asked my dad to bring back some icecream from the store, the one thing thst always makes me feel better. However, when he came home, he was icecream-less. I was baffled, upset, still violently ill, and in need of an explination. My dad claimed that he couldn't get the icecream because he is trying to lose weight and he knows he would just end up eating it. Yet when I opened the cabinets, there were two boxes of girl scout cookies. I don't know what diet he's on, but I should join it!

We finally sold our house, and my parents found a nice little place in Laverock to rent while the new house is being built. Its a cute house, but significantly smaller than our current home, so a lot of our furniture won't be coming with us. Furthermore, my mom, being the trendy interior design know-it-all, is insisting on a "minimalist" look for the house. Apparently this means we can't keep our china cabinet in the dining room and, by extension, all our plates and bowls. Instead, they will be kept in the basement, and my poor 60 year old father will have to walk down there every night in order to set the table. Similarly, when we were in the process of selling the house, my mom told me I had to keep my clothes in our shed whenever I came home so my room wouldnt be cluttered during open houses. I wanted to be helpful, but I drew the line at getting dressed between a weedwacker and my old bicycle.

For my birthday, my Aunt Nell sent me an email, wishing me a good day. She also told me a little story about the day I was born. As she explained, my father was at their house having a beer after his basketball game. My mom called to inform him she was in labor and told him to hurry home. He said he'd be there as soon as possible- but first he had to stop at Lee's for a hoagie. When I asked him about it this weekend, he rdefended himself by explaining "Well, I got one for Mom too". So for now on we won't be celebrating my birthday- we'll be celebrating the anniversary of my dad eating a hoagie.


So, yeah, my parents are total wierdos, but I think its made me a better person. No matter how screwed up things get in my life or how crazy I become, I'll always know I'm not as bad as them.