To get you in the Halloween spirit:
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Insatiable Appetite
Not only do I love Dee Dee Sharp's song "Mashed Potato Time," not only do I want to learn how to shake my groove thang like her backup dancers, not only do I love her sassy "yeah, yeah, yeah" at 0:56 and her come-hither finger-hooks at 1:00, but every time I hear this song, I automatically crave mashed potatoes. All in all, this is a win-win scenario.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Corners of the World
One of the scariest assignments I had to face in two (count them, two) personal essay classes was writing about a place. In my introductory class I completely bombed it, unsure as a college freshman what one place meant to me more than any other. In my advanced class, I improved, though I would by no means call it a success.
I know that certain places have had an intense effect on shaping who I am and where I've ended up. But those places are almost as intricate as my DNA, so implanted in me and naturally part of my system that deconstructing them is almost unfair. I have obvious feelings toward them, of course, be it anger or contentment, hatred or adoration, respect or . . . disrespect. It's hard to settle on one overall theme, and again, most likely unfair.
Now that I've moved out of Boston, my mind often wanders back to it, convinced that when I walk outside I'll be back in familiar territory. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Anyway, here's an incomplete list of those places in Boston that are forever etched in my memory.
1. The corners of Boylston and Tremont Streets. Famous to any Emerson alum. I remember every angle of this four-corner block. Looking from the Starbucks side, the Dunkin Donuts side, the Masonic Lodge side, and the Boylston T stop side. Every one evokes this strange nostalgia in me, not because it was a particularly inviting or warm corner of the world, but because it was inescapable for four years. All of college rested on that axis, and sometimes I still picture myself standing there, waiting for the lights to indicate that it's safe to cross diagonally.
2. Elm Street in Davis Square. How much time did I spend on this street my freshman and sophomore years? If I counted it would probably total more than a few months. But it was such a sweet escape for Cheena and me. All the hours we studied (and didn't study) in Diesel Cafe, or browsed the bookshop next to it. The Chinese restaurant we ate at on our second Thanksgiving together, sophomore year. The Hollywood Express where we visited friends, the concerts attended at Somerville Theatre, the ice cream from J.P. Licks . . . eventually my time in Davis Square decreased. I'm not sure why exactly, but having my own apartment was probably a big reason. Living in the dorms, Davis Square was an escape. Once I had my own place, I nested until it was the most productive environment. Either way, I'll never forget this neighborhood that had such an impact on me.
3. I remember the first time I ever looked up and really noticed the Back Bay skyline was in my freshman year, December. A bunch of us were going to Wendy's for dinner, but it was already dark. We needed to fill our stomachs with food before embarking on a night of drinking (of course), and this seemed the cheapest option with an added bonus of walking there together. I just remember it being this new awakening for me. (Wow, that is really pretentious, but let me explain.) I was fresh from a Thanksgiving weekend with Cheena, and suffering from this ridiculously minor heartbreak that I couldn't shake for some reason. After the holiday I bounced back and felt that I'd come into a new group of friends that motivated me and inspired me, and this simple walk to Wendy's cemented that notion. There was just the right amount of cold in the air, and the lights from the John Hancock building glowed so perfectly, as did the rest of Copley Square and the streetlamps that guided us to the Promised Land (of Wendy's, duh). Sometimes I miss that walk, and I know I'll miss it in December, when it's dark by five p.m. and there's a chill in the air that only the presence of good company at the right time and in the right place can counter.
I know that certain places have had an intense effect on shaping who I am and where I've ended up. But those places are almost as intricate as my DNA, so implanted in me and naturally part of my system that deconstructing them is almost unfair. I have obvious feelings toward them, of course, be it anger or contentment, hatred or adoration, respect or . . . disrespect. It's hard to settle on one overall theme, and again, most likely unfair.
Now that I've moved out of Boston, my mind often wanders back to it, convinced that when I walk outside I'll be back in familiar territory. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Anyway, here's an incomplete list of those places in Boston that are forever etched in my memory.
1. The corners of Boylston and Tremont Streets. Famous to any Emerson alum. I remember every angle of this four-corner block. Looking from the Starbucks side, the Dunkin Donuts side, the Masonic Lodge side, and the Boylston T stop side. Every one evokes this strange nostalgia in me, not because it was a particularly inviting or warm corner of the world, but because it was inescapable for four years. All of college rested on that axis, and sometimes I still picture myself standing there, waiting for the lights to indicate that it's safe to cross diagonally.
2. Elm Street in Davis Square. How much time did I spend on this street my freshman and sophomore years? If I counted it would probably total more than a few months. But it was such a sweet escape for Cheena and me. All the hours we studied (and didn't study) in Diesel Cafe, or browsed the bookshop next to it. The Chinese restaurant we ate at on our second Thanksgiving together, sophomore year. The Hollywood Express where we visited friends, the concerts attended at Somerville Theatre, the ice cream from J.P. Licks . . . eventually my time in Davis Square decreased. I'm not sure why exactly, but having my own apartment was probably a big reason. Living in the dorms, Davis Square was an escape. Once I had my own place, I nested until it was the most productive environment. Either way, I'll never forget this neighborhood that had such an impact on me.
3. I remember the first time I ever looked up and really noticed the Back Bay skyline was in my freshman year, December. A bunch of us were going to Wendy's for dinner, but it was already dark. We needed to fill our stomachs with food before embarking on a night of drinking (of course), and this seemed the cheapest option with an added bonus of walking there together. I just remember it being this new awakening for me. (Wow, that is really pretentious, but let me explain.) I was fresh from a Thanksgiving weekend with Cheena, and suffering from this ridiculously minor heartbreak that I couldn't shake for some reason. After the holiday I bounced back and felt that I'd come into a new group of friends that motivated me and inspired me, and this simple walk to Wendy's cemented that notion. There was just the right amount of cold in the air, and the lights from the John Hancock building glowed so perfectly, as did the rest of Copley Square and the streetlamps that guided us to the Promised Land (of Wendy's, duh). Sometimes I miss that walk, and I know I'll miss it in December, when it's dark by five p.m. and there's a chill in the air that only the presence of good company at the right time and in the right place can counter.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Rabbit Rabbit
It never fails that I hold out hope for the current month to be better than the previous. October is already filling up with good things. Now it's just a matter of seeing how they pan out.
I have yet to see the documentary about Philippe Petit, the French high wire artist who's famous for his walk across the Twin Towers in the early '70s. But I am extremely fascinated by him and other tightrope walkers. Thinking about their feats creates a pit in my stomach.
I have yet to see the documentary about Philippe Petit, the French high wire artist who's famous for his walk across the Twin Towers in the early '70s. But I am extremely fascinated by him and other tightrope walkers. Thinking about their feats creates a pit in my stomach.
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