Milestones

When you’re steadily approaching the edge of your 30th birthday, it helps to have a few close friends jump in first and tell you it’s cold but you’ll get used to it.

Missing New York

I miss the pavement and the lights and the pace, but I don’t miss the noise and the stress and the struggle. It’s not that all those things aren’t everywhere, but the cocktail of the city just hits you harder than the beer of the Midwest. It’s healthier to be away. But sometimes I miss the stiff drink.

Clocks Back, Looking Forward

I know, it’s an exciting time. Booster shots are out, Starbucks cups are red, Mariah Carey is emerging from her slumber, my friend is returning to usher at Radio City, and Thanksgiving is less than three week away. And, most of all…Adele’s album drops on November 19. Maybe everything is going to be ok after all.

Cheap Coffee

The only convenient coffee shop near the middle of campus is this tiny two-person operation, which always results in a line that wraps around the hall of the Union. It’s quite the conundrum for someone like myself who appreciates hot coffee but can’t fathom waiting more than ten minutes for it in a public setting. I have resorted to buying cold bottled coffee from the neighboring convenience store a couple of times, but it’s just not the same.

But yesterday I found a hot coffee machine in the corner of the convenience store. I had been sitting there this whole time. It had the cheap Dixie coffee cups and the big coffee things with the spigot, and even the cardboard sleeves. The coffee wasn’t good, but it was cheap. And cheap coffee is always great.

Good Morning, All

When I invited myself to write something to you all today, my first thought was, “Wow, of course! What an honor!”

Then I thought, “Hmm, what could I ever impart on these people? How could I even make just a small impact? Perhaps even on just one person? What really do I have to offer?”

I certainly do not know everything, and I aim to make no such impression. Rather, I hope to offer you only my own personal perspective, snapshots from my own journey, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, they might speak to you, too.

Now, when I sat down at my desk to write this, I thought, “Where to begin?” There were so many things I wanted to say to you, and yet crafting them into the perfect prose proved simply impossible.

It wouldn’t be fair for me to give you the idea that life can be all packaged up and tied with a bow, or that I somehow hold all the answers.

So, instead, I will spend what feels like innumerable attempts at saying something while saying nothing, humbly indulging in my own egotistical preoccupations, aiming to get closer to you while I fade slowly and slowly away.

Genuine Question

Is there really any art to be made or words to be written in the moments after Adele releases new music?

In the Long Run

I’m doing another marathon run on Monday, my fourth in as many years. Each year it’s daunting and nerve-wracking, an odd cocktail of stage freight and anticipatory pain with a base of uncertainty.

Only distance runners can tell you the particular dread of having a race coming up, that sense of knowing that you soon you’ll be uncomfortably confronted with yourself. While you’re out there, there’s plenty of time to ponder what led you to such a course, and plenty of brainstorming about why you might decide to never do it again.

But distance runners will also tell you that few sensations compare to the profound relief of finishing, of resting your hands on your knees, and relishing in the sweet sensation of knowing there is no further left to go. Every time, I remember how good it feels to walk.

The Spectrum

Love on the Spectrum is my favorite reality dating show because it gets the closest to reality. While the show is dedicated to those twenty-somethings who are on the autism spectrum, their desires and anxieties are as commonplace as my own. And not a few people could benefit from the guidance of the show’s designated dating expert: Find out what you have in common. Ask open ended questions. Know that no relationship will solve all of your problems.

Most poignant to me was a moment between Michael and Heather, when they came upon a pregnant silence near the end of their date. “How do you feel about me?” Michael asked. “I like you,” Heather replied immediately.

“But, may I ask, in what way?”

“No, no, no!” I mumbled into my blanket. Oh, Michael. One must never ask explicitly how someone else feels about them! And certainly not for additional clarification!

“In a romantic way,” Heather clarified, as they walked hand in hand. And so continues my education.

Fall Updates

The tops of some of the trees in Wisconsin are starting to change and this morning it was so cold. I feel such a deep sense of relief when the schedule fills up and the temperature drops. Sweaters, routine, alarms, and warm showers. All things I missed during the dog days of summer.

I also have a boyfriend now who doesn’t like Halloween, so my long-term seasonal worry is relieved. No costume considerations. Only what takeout to get.

Back to school, back to work, back to people, back to conversation. I feel like I am coming out of a three month retirement to a game of tee-ball. But my little diamond feels like Fenway.

Water Park

Summer days felt like being adrift in an ocean; now school days feel like a water park. So many kids, so many structures, so many activities, so many germs.

Walking past rows of stately trees and sitting in bolted wooden desks several decades old, I feel like I’m in a movie about college, rather than taking my surroundings at their word.

I did have a moment in a small seminar room, looking around at my masked colleagues, taking a mental picture of the peculiar scene to which we have all become accustomed. The time when full-faced, indoor interactions with those outside my emotional comfort pod seems evermore elusive. The time when one can fly, eat, exercise, and gather without second thought is becoming more of a fairytale by the news story.

But it is nice to have confirmation that other people are real, classrooms are living things, and that the seasons continue on as they do. (It’s so nice to not need air conditioning. Have I written about air conditioning before?)

Look How Beautiful

Welcome to my new website. How beautiful, right?

When you see a website (or anything), the more simple it looks, the more time it took. Add on top of that my proclivity for procrastination you can only imagine how long this was simmering on the stove.

It makes sense. How can one possibly translate oneself into website form? What would you be if you were divided up into three categories? What is your “About” page even about?

I settled on the reality that nothing made by me will ever be the same as me, but I can produce something, a third thing, that can be its own thing in itself. This place is simple, logical, black and white. I suspect no amount of time will ever make me into that.

Feeling It

When there's laws and storms and cases and conflict it's easy to feel as though my little essays are like birds chirping in the corner of a giant auditorium of dinosaurs. It's odd to read the news and look out the window and feel anxious about a new school year and see the leaves blowing just as surely as they did yesterday and forever ago.

Every climate, it seems, is changing. From the natural world to the information highway and ultimately the landscape of our inner selves, finding the steady amidst the tumult feels like an evermore elusive yet important goal.

Returning to this blank page and crafting these few words each week is one way I check in with myself and with you, and I hope you have something you can return to, too - a mug, a sidewalk, a plant, a connection - something that stays the same, for all the best reasons.

Also, best wishes, in advance, for the day after Labor Day. All I know is that I'm going to take that shower, put on those pants, and show up as I can. We're all feeling it, but we will all go forward.

The Return

As I was walking home yesterday, I passed two women conferring near a car, masks on their chins and iPhones in hand. "Bob's Discount Furniture is the only place. Alright, we're on table duty." Immediately, another woman marched out of the nearby rental building entrance, proclaiming, "Blender! I'm on blender duty!"

It was a scene of college move-in that is as commonplace as it is exhausting. As a second-year graduate student, I have the distinct privilege of observing the scenes from afar, embracing the relief that comes with knowing I do not need to brave the local Target for kitchen essentials or cheap ottomans. It's a rite of passage for students and parents alike, but at twenty-nine much of the novelty of independent living has faded and been replaced with questions of the more existential variety. "When will I actually live in a place for a long time? When will I start bolting things down?" It's one thing to make a living space; it's quite another to make a life.

I hope the first two women found a suitable and reasonably priced kitchen table at Bob's. The blender, though, I have serious doubts about. Have you seen the Target right now?

All Falls Down

The return to fall is always a thing, but this year it feels particularly daunting. The crisis fatigue is real, and the return of the mask is a perturbing reminder of how impossible it may be for us to actually succeed in this nationwide group project. There's always those few kids who don't want to pull their weight, but rather than getting a B- it feels as though we're all back to pining for just a D or higher. It's not that hard to get the shot, but it is that hard to digest the idea that there is no level of logic, emotional intelligence, or PR strategy that can sway someone who is committed to misunderstanding what it means to live in a shared world.

I am also still annoyed at the pervasive lack of air conditioning in my life, which has exacerbated my exacerbation regarding the above and also [insert other crises here]. Individualistic, yes, but I also feel like it's just not getting enough coverage right now.

OOO

✌🏻

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Maine woods, small ponds, warm sun, fresh air...and wedding bells. It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Aquatic Center

There's a giant recreation center I go to now that is far more fancy and far too populated with young, beautiful people for me to ever feel like I belong there. Nevertheless, as access to this temple of higher education excess is one of my few graduate student perks, I try to take advantage of it. It affords me thoughts like, "Maybe I'll go swimming today."

The pool is Olympic length and of Olympic quality, judging by the multiple Olympic rings displayed proudly on its wall above lists of Olympic alumni. As I lackadaisically breast stroke, my curious eyes dancing around the giant florescent arena, I imagine the multiple meetings in which administrators estimated how many top-recruits would be attracted to the university by virtue of this pristine new aquatic center. My attendance could not have been a primary business goal.

It's especially humbling to swim in one of these pools myself while I'm also seeing the best swimmers from around the world on television, their strength and grace almost inconceivable. I agree with the popular quip that the Olympics should incorporate one regular person into each event as a reference point for viewers. If such a person were me, I could guarantee you that the majesty of those athletes would never shine brighter. I would be too busy ogling the cleanliness of the facility, the clarity of the water, the aptitude of all the other swimmers, wondering, "How the hell did I end up here?"

In Other News

Yesterday morning I got a cup of coffee from a gas station and it all went perfectly normally.

Solid Foundation

I live in a decidedly analogue building. It was built in the 1920s, and beyond the faucets and appliances, it has maintained its unique charm in the form of old milk delivery boxes, thick walls, and wavy window panes. There's no air conditioning units allowed (a reason, I was assured, the rent could remain so affordable for such an esteemed neighborhood), and there is a property manager in the form of a mature gentleman who lives on the first floor, dutifully attending to the building's needs and amassing a cheap wealth of knowledge of the various comings and goings of us residents.

The building is a reassuring scene of antiquity amidst the many new rental apartment buildings in every small to mid-size city in the United States, those two bedroom, two bathroom boxes with big windows and central air conditioning. There are many times I fantasize about such boxes, especially staring up at my faithful yet insufficient ceiling fan on hot summer nights, but there is also a sense of particular comfort to my little corner of the world that feels decidedly real, solid, lasting.

When I was back in New York for a day in June I saw a giant new building that looked more suited for Dubai than Midtown. Upon Googling I found its name, "One Vanderbilt," and thought about how at home Anderson Cooper must feel in New York City - a cause I could not imagine requiring any further reinforcement - knowing its most ostentatious, newest building boasted his mother's maiden name. (I await the opening of "One Fitzgerald" at Extell's earliest convenience.) But it wasn't the giant-ness of it all as much as the computer-ness of it all. While some buildings were clearly drawn on paper, these buildings were conceived on a screen. I'm sure it's all more efficient and very exciting (and I would gladly partake in its undoubtedly exquisite central air), but as long as I continue to play the as-cheap-as-possible real estate game, I will take my pride wherever I can get it. While some buildings may have height, mine has depth.

Abbreviated

I.F.L.I.H.H.A.S.E.I.A.L.T.B.I.L.I.U.A.T.N.R.T.B.I.H.P.T.W.S.M.B.I.F.W.H.R.A.N.W.E!

(I feel like I haven't had a short essay in a long time but I looked it up and that's not really true but I'm hosting people this weekend so my brain is full with hostess responsibilities and not with essays!)