Summer in the city, and meeting with former teachers

Summer in the city, and meeting with former teachers

It's a summer day in the city, hot and muggy, bright blue skies and puffy white clouds concealing the fact that it rained and stormed all night.

I didn't decide that I was coming, on this trip to fetch my sister from the airport, until 45 minutes before we left. I walked out the door sporting a cute watermelon-coloured skirt and pretty top, fabulous shoes -- and for the first time in a long time, hair that actually did exactly what I wanted it to, with hardly any effort on my part!

As the rest of the family walked on to the pub where we were going to dinner, I took a few minutes and went into my old music school. I hadn't seen my violin teacher or her husband for a couple of years, as I stopped taking lessons in 2003, and have missed them ever since. She became pregnant a few months before I stopped with lessons, had the baby that fall, and they've had another one since then. I talked to her husband today (he's a violin teacher there, as well) - we've been out of touch for so long, so I gave them my e-mail address, because we have so many things to catch up on. He said that they're pregnant again, and due September 23rd. I asked him to please request that she hold the baby in for a few extra days, because my birthday is September 26th.

He was so happy to see me. They were such an odd couple, but worked perfectly together; she had long blonde hair, wasn't skinny, but a comfortable weight, had a heavy German accent, and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. He was lanky, rather thin, and had glasses, a quiet voice and aura, and patchy, rather messy hair. They balanced each other perfectly. She was the loud one, he was the quiet one. She taught classically; he taught using the Suzuki method. She was a strict teacher; he was a softie. They had one of those relationships that had one main common interest, but completely different personalities -- and yet they didn't have any problems, fitting into each other's lives. Her face lit up every time he came across the hall to her studio and peeked in the window of the door, or came in to say "hi."

I love real-life, true, love stories. Seeing people together who obviously loved each other deeply...for a time, that was what kept me going. There were days when I felt as though I would never meet the man who would light up my days, about whom I found nothing repellent, and who always intrigued me. Nine months ago today, I met him; and within days, I knew that he was the one I would be with - and nothing has been the same since. We've discussed everything under the sun, walked for miles, stayed up late planning and discussing, and there are still some days when I have to pinch myself to make sure this is all real.

But it is! It's real, and it's happening to us, this time. Those beautiful love stories? I still love them and love those people, but this one, this beautiful love story? It's by far the best.

And I'm only a little bit biased. ;)

Updating two days in a row, and other various tidbits.

Updating two days in a row, and other various tidbits.

I've been sitting in my parent's living room, laptop appropriately on my lap, feet on a footrest, and had to get up to open the blinds all the way; it's pouring outside right now. Normally, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but it has been so dry here for so long; the grass has been brown and crunchy since the middle of June. I love the windows in this room; they stretch almost all the way to the ceiling, and from where I sit, I can gaze out across the valley -- obscured after a point by a thick veil of rain. Everything is a beautiful, pearly grey outside, except for the huge pine tree just southeast of the house, and watching the rain fall past the windows in a mad dash for the ground, makes me think of Christmas, of sitting here at night, the light on outside, and watching the white flakes swirling toward the ground, beautiful white spots against the forest green of the tree.

I have enya murmuring at me through the speakers on the laptop, because her music perfectly reflects my mood at this moment -- the rain seems almost magical, rather "Chronicles of Narnia"-esque.

I lent out my copy of The Time Traveler's Wife to a friend back in College Town at the end of May, and miss it horribly. Sometimes I close my eyes and go through passages of it, just in my head -- is that sad? (Okay, so it's sad; but is it sad because I'm mopey about it and missing it so much, or because I read it so many times that I have memorized the majority of the book?)

I read a survey today, and rather than copy and paste the thing in its entirety, I decided to pick and choose a few questions to put up:

Foods (and a drink) I didn't eat for many years until recently: Zucchini, avocados, guacamole, and Sangria.
Explanations: When I was younger, I swore that I hated zucchini; I don't know why -- I just did. Now, I love it, especially in stir-fries and soups -- it's so fresh!
I had my first avocado last fall; my first guacamole about the same time, and Sangria after I met John (and you thought this entry was John-free! Oh, you are so naive). I rarely get up and fetch my own glass of Sangria, but share a glass with John - most recently when we were at his mom's house, with his family and grandparents, curled up on the couch, and watching tv. It was so cozy, my legs over his lap and his arm around my shoulder, my head tucked in near his elbow, taking turns sipping the Sangria. Somehow, over the course of two evenings, we made our way through a jug of it, and when Nana came back from Sam's Club the next day, she had a new bottle for us -- one that, of course, was so huge (as is everything at Sam's) that it could hardly fit in the fridge.

I sleep with: The bear I have had since I was born, "Teddy," and the cute, squashed, little tiger that John has had since he was three, and who was once left in Hawaii, "Smoogles." Also with a sweatshirt and a few pillows.


My sister is coming tomorrow, flying in (well, on a plane) from Texas. She'll be here for a week, and it'll be so fun, having her around again! I've really missed her and my brother-in-law since they moved this Spring.

I don't have a smooth ending for this post, so: I hope you all have a wonderful night; what have you been up to?

The evolution of this blog...

Before I write about today:

I know that over the past nine months, this blog has become less of a danika blog, and more of a danika-and-john blog. To some readers, that might be annoying, but after I thought about this, I realized that it shouldn't be annoying. Because, you see, John has been an incredibly huge part of the last nine months of my life, from November 2nd onwards. It's not every day that you find the person you know you're going to be with forever, and I am still completely amazed that he and I found each other -- and that is why I write about it.


* * * *

Yesterday morning, John arrived at my parent's house a little after 9:30, in time to go to church with us. I'd been awake since 5:20 -- I couldn't sleep, because I was so excited to be able to be with him again. It's strange, this time that we're apart. It's not really something one can get used to, this being apart from the one you love. Every minute I'm awake, every time I see something that makes me laugh, or reminds me of him, I ache somewhere deep inside. But every time that we're together, we make the most of every single minute. Who needs sleep? There's more time to talk, or cuddle, or make plans for this next year.

I'm getting too tired to write an in-depth account of the past day and a half, so I believe a summary and highlights are in order:

John drove here, went to church with us, and then he and I drove two more hours up to College Town; I went to help him finish moving out of his apartment, and organize my own things back at my dorm, for this week when I finish moving out.

We also:

+ Watched Knute Rockne All American. Laughed uproariously (and slightly guiltily, on my part) when Knute's future wife said to him, eagerly, in a shadowy garden, whilst discussing plans for the future: "I can cook and sew...and you can get a job!!"

+ Ate a late dinner outside on the patio of a mexican restaurant we'd never been to before, on a beautifully high, round table with an umbrella! And the smell of the food and sound of the seagulls and seeing all the tourists made us feel like we were in Spain -- and that motivated us to pull an index card and pens out of my bag (I always keep index cards with me), and add it to our list of potential honeymoon destinations. He's been to Spain; I haven't yet, but have always wanted to go.

+ Each ordered a Mike's Hard Lemonade with our meal, and then AFTERWARDS discovered that they were $4.75 a bottle. Yes, we left not even a drop -- I'm not going to leave a $0.10 drop in the bottle!

+Discussed the reaction on our friend Jim's face, when John will ask him to be the bartender at our reception-- I can't wait to hear his hearty, jolly congratulations and excitement.

+ Hugged a lot, kissed a lot; I didn't leave those arms for longer than I absolutely had to. I will say that being apart has made our time together even more precious -- I appreciate being with him, so much, and don't take even a second for granted.

+ Got hot and sticky, moving furniture and scrubbing floors in an un-air-conditioned apartment, with head indices of 105.

+ Went to grocery and liquour stores to find strong enough boxes in which to pack dishes and books. John asked me to use my feminine wiles on the grocery store personnel, for, as he put it, "The guys in Produce always fall all over themselves to help you." So I checked my hair, put on lip gloss and fabulous feminine charm, and picked out the youngest employee in every Produce section to proposition, while John hung out over by the cilantro. Two of them were utterly apologetic, I should call ahead, if I wait until tonight, they'll be putting the cereal away, and there'll be big boxes then, if I show up at nine in the morning - well, no, at ten, because they put the apples out at 9:00 - then I can have many boxes, oh, he's soooo sorry, but the people from the food shelf juuuust came and took alll of his boxes, he's so sorry, if he had some, he would give them to me. I struck gold at the liquor store -- great boxes, not broken down, in perfect condition (and John stood in the entry and stared at For Sale notices).

+ Realized partway through the afternoon that we were thirsty, so I bought the cranberry lemonade, and he bought the milanos. And we wonder why we've gained weight since November? I told John that my theory is that we rather view time together as a sort of vacation -- and who wants to eat healthfully on vacation?!

+ Realized that the next time that John has to move, will be when he moves to our place, next year. My goodness.

+ Drove several hours in the car. I've always loved driving with him; I love the conversations that we have; I love that he stretches his arm out so I can curl up against the console, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me.

+ Realized that by this time next year, we will have been married for a while.

+ Felt utterly loved, peaceful, and content.

Planning...

'So have you picked out a wedding dress?' she asked conversationally, scraping the backside of my bottom teeth with her pronged weapon.
'Ummfph.'
She removed the instrument, a surprised expression on her face, and asked again, to make sure she had understood me. 'You haven't looked for a dress?'
'No.' At her look, now borderline horror, I attempt to explain. 'I...see, I'm at the point where...well, it used to be that when I would walk past a display of bridal magazines at a bookstore, I'd be all, 'Aww, cool.' And now I'm at the point where I walk past and think, 'Aww - Wait. That's ME.' So, no, I haven't picked out a wedding dress.'

Wedding dresses are the least of my worries right now. Besides, I am not concerned about the wedding. The wedding? It is just a ceremony, just an afternoon and evening. I am not looking forward to the wedding; no, I am looking forward to being married, to never have to leave John's side again for months at a time. To home-cooked dinners, and movies on the couch, and our own apartment, and Mass early on Sunday mornings. And our bedroom, painted a beautifully chalky dark blue, with white curtains at the windows, and a white quilt on our bed. Our bed. Our own life. Together.

In the meantime, I am worried about the 18 credits I'm taking this fall semester; I am more concerned about writing my thesis next spring than picking out the colours for a wedding party. And I think that is exactly how it should be right now; but don't get me wrong, I am not apathetic about the wedding - quite the opposite! I'm excited, the moments when it actually sinks in. I have a list in my head of the basic things I will have to figure out and decide upon. But I know how many other things I have occupying my attention until then; and I know how many people - advisors, counselors, helpers, if you will - I will have to help me with all the wedding details. How many? MANY.

For instance, this weekend I was with John at his mom's house. Mama Jeanne, Nana, Jeanne's friend Christy*, and I were sitting out at the picnic table. Christy turned to me and began discussing the wedding - and said that she had made table favors for her son's wedding; she makes amazing homemade wine (...evidence duly noted, by the bottle that John and I polished off), and had made little individual-sized bottles to put by each place - and offered to do that for our wedding (it'll be fun, seeing the look on the Baptist's faces... ;) ).

So, scratch that off the list - the mental list that is slowly forming (congealing?) - but wait, table favours hadn't even been on my list. Oh, the details people will think of.

Perhaps, because of my take on the whole thing, the wedding won't be the big, scary thing that so many people regard it as. I know I want a pretty cake, one with real flowers (lilies, perhaps, if we feel like it) on the top; a white cake with white frosting. I know I want a pretty dress, but I don't want to spend much on it. I know who will be invited - I mean, really, this isn't hard. Relatives and friends. We have a built-in bartender (our friend Jim, who is an excellent bartender; and John and I joke about how Jim will pass "Irish Car Bombs** - all around!!!" He's very jolly and Irish and intense), and we have friends who will stand with us up in the front of the church. I don't care about the flowers; I just want them to be pretty; if they're still in bloom, tulips. If it's later, lilies. Flowers, candles, pretty things. Unobtrusive, pretty colors. I know I can get most of the decorative elements and things for the veil, etcetera, at a good chain of craft stores we have here. I'm looking forward to slowly gathering the necessary things and little touches through the next two semesters. If I'm frustrated with a class, with the homework, I can take a half hour and wander around the craft store, coming up with ideas. My cousin's husband is a photographer by trade, and perhaps he could take photos - his work is breathtakingly beautiful.

Pretty, and simple (and hopefully thrifty).

I do not understand why women get so obsessed with the minute details of their weddings. Who cares about the cake?! Why do they spend hours trying to decide what kind to have - Do you think more people would like the raspberry filled, or the chocolate gateau?

WHO FREAKING CARES?!

It's a wedding. It's meant to be a rather public affirmation of your love and commitment to each other; most people aren't going to even notice that your bridesmaid's shoes are dyed to the perfect shade of taupe, so why did you spend three days freaking out about it?! And, with you as my witness, I will not get obsessed with the details.

* Christy, who told John, after she met me for the first time, that I was the most "well-mannered and lovely girl" she'd ever met. Who told him today, after spending much of the weekend with us, that she wishes her sons had found women like me. That is an incredible compliment - my heart feels all warm and bursty.

** Irish Car Bombs? It's a disgustingly horrible drink (I refused to try it, because I hate the main ingredient): A glass of Guinness, with a shot glass of Bailey's Irish Cream dropped inside; for the Macho, they need to drink it as quickly as possible, before the Irish Cream curdles. Oh, wait, did you miss that? BEFORE IT CURDLES. Wretched, vile drink!

What's been going on:

What's been going on:

I've been terrifically uninspired to post. When this happens, a new layout or banner helps shake me out of the funk; so, here it is, and here I am.

Life has been pretty weird this summer.

L o c a t i o n :

I changed plans and moved back to my parents' house for the summer, rather than staying at school (I could have, for free, as I was on staff last semester). The reasons behind doing so were multiplicitous:

a) My car had died more than once
b) There is no air conditioning here (and yesterday was a 99F day)
c) It'd be nice to see my family
d) My freezer doesn't work
e) I'm tired of people who play rap at 7:30 on a Sunday morning
f) I would have free access to good food
g) I'd be 2.5 hours away from John, instead of 4.5

Which was the factor that weighed the most when I was deciding? Oh, yeah, the last one. But I did want to see my family, too, I swear!

H e a l t h :

I was sick often last semester. I think it's because I have a horrible immune system; Mom swears it's because I get stressed out (easily, I must confess). I did have a lot to be stressed over, with a job that nobody taught me how to do, major assignments all occurring at once in my classes, changes in life, and changes in health.

The day of my last final, I woke up and didn't feel so great. At first, I thought maybe it had something to do with my back; perhaps I'd slept on it funny. Then I had pain, and it kept getting worse. I stumbled to the bathroom, where I proceeded to try to keep myself from fainting from the pain by pressing my head against the sink. I couldn't stand up straight; I crept back, slowly, to the room, hanging on to doorframes and walls. I called John to tell him what was happening, and he freaked out (well, freaked out for John: He showed a high level of interest, high level of worry, mentioned the emergency room, and taking me there, all in quick succession), especially as I was now clammy, shaking, and breathing in short pants (not capris; gasps). We thought it could be appendicitis; the pain was spreading from the lower right area of my abdomen.

So he took me to the emergency room.

I had to sign forms. My body was imploding, but I had to sign forms, then take a seat and wait.

"Rate on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst pain you've ever experienced:"
"TEN. [No, I have not had a child, have had surgery, and I'm not kidding around. Yes, I have a low threshold for pain tolerance, but I'm serious this time. This is worse that before surgery, than when I was recovering from surgery, than ANYTHING.]"

The doctor finally came in (there were no other emergencies, other than the coffee might have run out), asked questions, asked if I've ever been pregnant (that would be a NO), had gonorrhea or chlamydia (what?! I giggled - I couldn't help it. Seriously? No, and no, on both counts), and palpated my abdomen. He got to a certain area, and pressed down then released quite quickly, asking whether it hurt more when he pressed, or after he released. Oh, man, after he released.

He mentioned appendicitis, and scheduled an ultrasound and various other tests.

The nurses let John come in, and it was wonderful to have him there; I asked him to stand by me, so I could press my head against his stomach, and yes, it helped.

The nurses took blood and urine from me (not at the same time), and eventually got me in for an ultrasound (after making me drink six cups of water and wait wait wait wait wait. I don't think they realized how quickly liquid runs through me). I had never had an ultrasound before, and it was amazing and impressive, and I got to see parts of my body that I rarely even think about (the technician told me that I have a nice uterus. Score!) (and then afterwards, I got to pee, which was also amazing and impressive).

After doing a total of three separate ultrasounds (including one that I'm not going to mention or even think about), the doctor diagnosed me. He said I have Ovarian Cysts, and that one of them had ruptured that morning -- but short of surgery, there was nothing they could do. He sent me off with instructions to come back in a week if the pain wasn't better, and to take a lot of
ibuprofen.

John took me home to his place (so that I would be able to sleep; in the dorms, middle of the afternoon, music would be blasting and people would be packing and noisily getting ready for summer vacation). I ate a little bit, and slept for hours, my feet tucked in by John, who was working on his laptop.

I had had a final scheduled for that morning, in my favourite class. I had no time that morning to alert the professor to the situation, and if a student misses a final, they fail the class. But I checked my e-mail and she had written, wanting to know what had happened (she knew I wouldn't skip). I e-mailed back, a short note, apologizing but letting her know that I had been in the ER for six hours, etc. Her reply: "I was worried that something like that had happened. Just let me know when you'll be up to taking the final."

Yes, she is wonderful. This semester, I'm taking two of her classes.

S u m m e r s c h o o l :

I took two summer classes; one history, and one science. The science professor crammed the entire TEXTBOOK into two weeks; imagine, a mid-term on Monday, and three papers due; and the final on Thursday morning, four papers due, and six chapters covered on Tuesday and Wednesday. HELLISH! But...I did five credits in five weeks, and those are five credits I don't have to worry about next semester when I have 18 credits, or in the Spring, when I write my thesis.

V a c a t i o n :

Over the Fourth of July, I spent four days with John and his family. I love being at his mom's house; I always feel very much at home there -- yes, it has a ton to do with the fact that John's there, but also has to do with the fact that his mother is so friendly and warm and open, and likes me so very very much.

Next week, John's coming up to my parent's house and spending the day, going to the fair and spending time with my family, then taking me back to his mom's house that night. His maternal grandparents from Indiana are coming into town, and they are eager to see me again. I can't wait to see them, either; his Nana is a doll, small and beautiful, and so very Catholic (I love her!), and Papa is, well, Papa, and one of my favourites. He's shrewd and wise, and funny and no-nonsense, and his opinion matters so very much to the family, because he can see right through the stupid games people play and the facades people put up; and he so openly likes me and approves of me.

N e x t s e m e s t e r :

Next semester, I'm taking 18 credits (6 in history, 6 in english, 3 in anthropology, 3 in Historical Research Methods [the prerequisite to a history major's Senior Thesis class]). I'll be busy, and it'll be good (I miraculously ended up snaring the only room on campus that has its own bathroom), and John and I will see each other every two or three weeks; he will come here, or I will go there, or we can meet in the middle at my parent's house.

T h e p h o n e :

And like Cassie had said we would, we've grown to absolutely love the phone. At first, we made a ton of little calls through the day, but our routine has become a long (usually an hour) call right after nine at night, and then sometimes another short call right as we're falling asleep, to say goodnight.

We still miss each other overwhelmingly, but the phonecalls, they do help.

Bursting

Bursting

I'm coming apart at the seams today, and it is the most frustrating feeling ever. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I got hardly any sleep last night, and when I tried to catnap this afternoon, a group of kids decided to play -- loudly -- right under my window. Out of the hundreds of rooms, they picked MY window.

And it has to do with the fact that I'm feeling extraordinarily lonely -- the kind of heavy, heartbreaking loneliness where tears are just a breath away; and that from this end, the days I have to wait until John and I see each other again, well, they're stretching into what seems like forever.

I had a midterm today, and three papers due; my final is on Thursday, and another three papers due then. I'm feeling utterly overwhelmed and exhausted right now, and I wish more than anything that it were the future, and that I could escape and be folded in those arms.

Instead, I'm sitting in my room with the TV on behind me for company, and eating a box of grape tomatoes, plotting out my papers before I type them up (this is why essay questions are the easiest for me; because I write everything out in my head before I ever touch the pen or keyboard).

Music Recommendations:
If you have iTunes or Limewire (preferably iTunes), download "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," by the Ab Orchestra. And then "Pavane," played by Steve Erquiaga. These songs are the soundtrack to my day; they always soothe my heart.

Chapters in Solitude.

Chapters in Solitude.

I tend to think of life as divided into neat little compartments - chapters. In some ways, this view is far too simplistic, but I rather like it. Some recent chapters in my life were:

Years 2002-2004 Chapter: At the Other College, living at home, working.
Spring Semester 2005 Chapter: Transferring to This College; Mono; going from having dozens of friends to only three.
Fall Semester 2005 Chapter I (September through November 2nd): Back at school after a summer at home; taking 17 credits; tired of boys and their stupid mind games.
Fall Semester 2005 Chapter II (beginning on November 2nd): I met John. And I knew I had stumbled across exactly what I wanted. Shortly before I met him, I had written this:

I used to hate my loneliness and try to avoid it at all costs. But now, now that I can see the rest of my life stretching out before me, unfurling like a beautiful canvas, I don't hate this last bit of loneliness. I'm rather enjoying it, knowing that I won't endure it much longer. Instead of loneliness dogging my every move, it's more like the subtle itching pain of shinsplints the day before they disappear. It's something I can deal with now; I can cope, instead of trying to ignore that it exists.

And as I sit here alone, my eyes continually searching the space around me, I see a toddler and his father out for a walk, thick, dark grass underfoot, the chilly breeze playing with the yellow leaves, and late-afternoon sunlight dappling the sidewalk, and I think to myself, In a few years, I could be the mother who's at home getting hot chocolate ready for when her men come home; shoes off, reading a book, and enjoying the solitude.

And that's what makes it bearable now, I think; knowing that I won't be alone too much longer.

After I met John, I forgot what solitude was -- with the exception of a little reminder durig separate at-home weekends during Christmas break. In each other, we had a constant companion, someone to read with, watch movies with, talk with, love, and just be with. As soon as I met him, I forgot what loneliness was; as I had predicted, it disappeared without a trace, except for my delight in being with him. Like shinsplints, I didn't note the exact day the memory of loneliness disappeared; I realized it had left, after the fact, and it was relegated to the cobwebby recesses of my mind.

But this, starting two days ago, is the beginning of another chapter, one that is quite lonely, again. John has moved back to his family's house, in order to begin substitute teaching and save the $800 he would spend each month on rent, utilities, and food. Instead of being one mile away, taking care of me when I'm sick, and available any time of the day or night, he will be 270 miles away. To the people who read this and have spent months being thousands of miles apart, I know I'm being a bit of a baby. I was able to see him every single day for eight months, and I know that is pretty incredible -- and I am eternally thankful for it.

And this loneliness is not without a silver lining; for we appreciate each other more the times we are able to spend time together. And instead of being a pointless solitude, there is a purpose behind it.

So, you see, as lonely as I am right now, I know what's waiting at the end of the solitude. And that makes it bearable.

The Sitcom Game

Last night, John and I were discussing our Top Ten Favourite Sitcoms. Stupidly, I was the one who suggested the topic, and then I realized that I haven't even seen a total of ten different sitcoms.

So the list of my Top Ten Favourite Sitcoms goes as follows:

"Frasier"
"Seinfeld"
"Friends"
"That 70s Show"
"Yes, Dear"
"I Love Lucy"

And that's about it.

John was showing off his pop culture prowess, tossing out names like "Three's Company," "Cheers," "Happy Days," and "All in the Family." This is the guy who grew up listening to Van Halen, Billy Joel, The Beatles, The Who, and The Rolling Stones, too, if that helps; I've just discovered all those artists in the past year. As I explained to him today though, when he was flabbergasted (again; one would think he'd get used to it) over another song I hadn't heard, I reminded him that a life with me will never be boring -- he'll always be able to teach me something.

And I love that.

One Hundred Things -- A healthy dose of narcissism.

One Hundred Things -- A healthy dose of narcissism.

1. I'm mostly Scandinavian, but English, French, and Danish, too.
2. I have lived in five places during my life; two with my family, and three at college.
3. I love listening to different languages and accents.
4. I'm a voracious reader, mostly because I love to read, but partially because I like saying that "I'm a voracious reader."
5. John's narratives while he cooks, well, they drive me crazy ("Now I will mince the onion in order for there to be maximum potential for the flavour to spread through the entire dish.").
6. I'm trying to find them ^ endearing.
7. I tend to get obsessive about things:
8. There are drinks I always drink (water, Diet Coke, and "Sex on the Beach"[if we go OUT out, which is rare]);
9. There are movies I can watch repeatedly without tiring of them ("Amelie");
10. Music I can't stop listening to (the Beatles' "Hey Jude," "Eleanor Rigby," Faure's "Pavane," the "Amelie" soundtrack, Natalie Cole's "This Will Be [An Everlasting Love]," and Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven");
11. And books I have to read at least four times a year; but can pick up anytime (The Time Traveller's Wife, Girl of the Limberlost, The Great Gatsby, and most of the Harry Potter series).
12. I would like to say that I'm adventurous, but really, I like coming home to my own spaces, my same old foods, and my comfortable surroundings.
13. But I do want to travel around the world.
14. I'm a History major, English minor, graduating next May.
15. I'll have to go on to get my Master's to do anything with it, really.
16. Even though I'll be living off substitute teaching for a while, I dread teaching teenagers (ugh).
17. I faint nearly every time I have blood drawn.
18. Eating disorders fascinate me -- they make me so hungry, and yet and want to throw up, both at the same time (maybe that's the idea?).
19. I hope to have a baby by the time I'm 24.
20. I can't wait to have my own apartment, slather paint on the walls, and pin up prints (and O! the potted plants I shall have!).
21. Magic Johnson had HiV?
22. As made apparent by #21, I've been behind on pop culture for most of my life.
23. I love tomatoes, avocadoes, olives, asparagus, and zucchini.
24. I spent the first 21.5 years of my life saying that I hated zucchini.
25. During my teenage years, I spent far too much time online.
26. I still spend too much time online, but now I can call it, "Research."
27. I've been to most of the fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and England.
28. I plan on going to Paris for a honeymoon.
29. John calls the train on a wedding dress, "entrails."
30. He doesn't do it on purpose, and this amuses me to no end.
31. I love the feeling of 64F weather, on a grey, cloudy morning.
32. The smell of coffee in the car, early in the morning, smells like a long journey.
33. That smell always excites me.
34. I hate dark beers and ales.
35. My favourite lotion is the "got 2b spa - body smoothie."
36. I already have names for my children.
37. I don't like fresh basil or cilantro in large doses.
38. I like cats, love a couple of them, and am open-minded about dogs -- even though there are only a few I really like.
39. People tell me all the time that I should be a librarian.
40. I can't stand the edges of fabric -- especially blankets -- touching me -- especially my neck.
41. I can't sleep with the left side of my neck uncovered.
42. Even though I once owned a tarantula, when I was 14, spiders freak me out to no end.
42b. ( John knows this and takes advantage of it ALL THE TIME.)
43. I'm considering going for a Master's in Library Science (see 39).
44. When I was little, I loved "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood."
45. I'm the middle child of five; an older brother, older sister, and two younger brothers.
46. During foggy mornings, I pretend that I'm in Yorkshire or Tuscany.
47. I get migraines.
48. I have a fear of people being in the room -- with me unaware of their presence.
49. Hence, I sleep with the lights on quite often.
50. Somewhat related, I hate the idea of something happening during the night, and me not able to see -- so I sleep with my glasses on, too.
51. I have met seven people whom I first met and knew (for years) online.
52. I love white tulips and roses; they look so clean.
53. I'm a fiend for home renovation/interior decorating TV shows.
54. I would like to be the best at something. I'm not picky what, just as long as I am.
55. I get a kick out of watching the all-night home-shopping shows. How long can they stretch out a description of one shirt?! It'd be fun to try, but I'd be horrible at it, because at some point, I'd cave and scream, "IT HAS SLEEVES AND BUTTONS AND YOU WEAR IT. Please, please buy it so I can go HOME."
56. One of my dreams is to work for a travel magazine.
57. Another one of my dreams -- one that's more realistic, is to get married, travel and work, and have babies. Babies!
58. I love babies. LOOOVE BABIES.
59. Related to #55: I became familiar with the late-night home-shopping shows after I had surgery on my foot a couple of summers ago; I wouldn't want to sleep without the TV on, for it kept me company, and kept me from hallucinating. Even now, I feel calmer with those shows keeping me company at night - they're so bland, so trustworthily calm and unflappable. They stand there, they talk, they go into 10-minute descriptions, they want you to buy it, THEY'RE GOING FAST. How comfortable.
60. I can make a mean loaf of dill bread (I love my dill bread).
61. I only like marshmallows when they're in Rice Krispie bars.
62. My favourite JellyBellies are the green apple and pina colada flavours.
63. Oh, and tangerine and grapefruit. YUM.
64. I'm developing an affinity for classic rock:
65. I can finally distinguish between the Rolling Stones, the Who, Van Halen, and Led Zeppelin.
66. I've attempted the whole no-carb deal.
67. It lasted until 11:30 that first morning, when I caved and steamed some rice.
68. If I had the money, I would cook fresh food everyday - vegetables, meats, and fruits.
69. I love the taste and smell of fresh vegetables - slicing, mincing, or dicing, sauteeing and steaming.
70. I grew up watching PBS, and still am enthralled by many of their programs (including, but not limited to, "Arthur").
71. The only sitcoms I ever watched, until this month, were "Seinfeld" and "Friends."
72. "Yes, Dear" is growing on me -- John said he had never seen me laugh as hard as I do during that show.
73. My family has never had cable; except for an 8-month period when we lived in Pennsylvania; thus, I have never watched THE SHOWS that people my age grew up watching.
74. I love long words).
75. I wish I could donate plasma ($30, 2x a week), but...see #17.
76. I have a funny feeling we'll have a Subaru someday.
77. I get extremely frightened, extremely easily.
78. I cry at Sylvan Learning Center commercials.
79. I have never owned a two-piece swimsuit.
80. Actually, I haven't had a new swimsuit (and therefore haven't really gone swimming since) since I was 10 years old.
81. I had tequila once -- and never will again.
82. Jack Black is one of my favourites.
83. I love to cook, and wish I had the money/time to do it more often.
84. I fiend for British Sitcoms (particularly "As Time Goes By" and "Monarch of the Glen").
85. My Mom and I used to plan around Saturday evenings, so that we could watch our lineup of BritSits.
86. I can read 4 normal-sized books per day (normal-sized: 250-300 pages).
87. I wish I could go back in time and live in the 1920's for a while; then the late 1940's and 1950's.
88. My toenails are always painted; my fingernails rarely are.
89. I've only taken one art class in my life, but I love art supplies.
90. I enjoy the menswear secton of better clothing stores; all the solid-colour, collared, long-sleeve shirts, and beautifully silky ties.
91. John reminds me of "Lionel," from "As Time Goes By," only not so snarky.
92. I can spend hours in Barnes&Noble.
93. The majority (96%) of my CDs are classical music.
94. John says that I'm not up on pop culture/music culture, but really, I'm totally all over it -- just not today's pop culture -- I could tell him everything about the music on the classical station.
95. I have never been to a rock concert.
96. Joshua Bell remembers me, knows my name (and even how to spell it), and gives me a hug everytime I go to a concert.
97. I wish people would say "whilst" more often.
98. There are few things I hate more than "The Lawrence Welk" show.
99. I love everything about summer except for the heat and allergens.
100. I have an uncanny knack for having vehicles that develop severe problems after a few months. ?!

Welcome Insomnia.

Welcome Insomnia.

It's 4:20 AM, and I've been awake since shortly after 3. But where I would generally despise this whole insomnia thing, I'm relishing it right now. I was out of commission with a migraine (the second in three days) from 10AM-8PM yesterday. It included me wandering around, my eyes closed and walking softly so as to a) not throw up and b) not jar my skull, oh, the pressure inside, trying to find something cool and solid to press my throbbing head into, and then hours of lying down, my arm across my eyes, trying to block out any bit of light. This early-morning cool air, the sky dark and quiet, the city noises finished for the night, is so welcome.

Anywhere but Here...

Anywhere but Here...

It's a beautifully grey morning outside that fills me with wanderlust. I'm anxious to pack, to hop in my car and then in a plane, jetting off to, well, anywhere else. The damp chill of the morning air reminds me of London, of walking on old streets, seeing so many beautiful places and people, smelling so many beautiful smells; listening to a plethora of world accents, and touching things that are so ancient, my mind can't wrap itself around the concept.

So I retrieved our list of Places To Go, a list we compiled a few months back, out for lunch at the pub. The List is written on a piece of used notebook paper,* folded three times. ** We each made a list, and a few of the places overlap -- we both want to go to Istanbul and Cairo.

The rest of the List (John's entries in black; mine in pink):

Agra, India
Bejing
Jerusalem
Machu Piccu
Ho Chi Min City (Hanoi)
Andalucia
Moscow
Paris, France
Dehli
Kenya
Iran
Fiji
Azores
Capetown
Florence, Italy
Lima
Tibet
Nepal
Srebenica, Bosna & Hercegovina

There are so many other places I want to see as well, and generally, my longing for Capri replaces Andalucia or Machu Piccu. But then, I can't remove Machu Piccu, or the feeling I've always had about it, ever since I first saw a National Geographic about it when I was six. And I can't erase "Andalucia" from the list, or my desire to walk all over Spain, exploring the Alhambra, Gibraltar, and sipping Sangria on the beach.

When we finished writing our individual lists and then comparing them, John asked me to fold it up and keep it somewhere it would be safe for years to come. In forty years, we want to be able to retrieve the List and look at the series of check marks, each replete with scores of memories, running alongside the lists.

So days like today, I pull out the List and pick a random entry, imagining it with my whole being; the sounds, smells, sights, and the taste of the food; the feeling of lying on the sand, the sharp then sweet taste of the Sangria, the sound of Spanish-accented voices a beautiful background to the day.


* notes about Bosnia are on the other side, as well as a line that says, "You look very Aztec." Don't ask; I don't remember.
** in half the short way, then each end folded in, like folding a towel.

Secret Recipe

Secret Recipe

School is over for the summer, for most people. I'm still living in my dorm, because I'm taking two summer classes -- the first one started yesterday. Most of the other residents have left, so this means that I can play my music at 2 AM if I feel like it, and not constantly worry about annoying the people next door. I can rearrange my room at midnight if I want (I want)! Unfortunately, as I found out this morning after that midnight rearranging and 2AM listening, the guys with the lawnmower trucks start at 8 AM during the summer, right outside my open window.

As for the recipe: Due to the fact that school is out, the cafeteria is closed (I hadn't used it for a while, anyway). I have to hunt down and kill my own food, and this is what I currently have in my refrigerator:

1. A bit less than a half-gallon of skim milk
2. Part (most) of a package of shredded cheddar cheese
3. Half a jar of salsa (it's not very good salsa, either)
4. Three packets of ketchup
5. A squeezy bottle of Miracle Whip
6. One stick of butter
7. Eight small soft tortillas

In my "pantry":

1. Two cans of green beans
2. Five cans of tuna
3. Rice flour
4. A package of bowtie pasta
5. Non-stick cooking spray
6. Noodles
7. One can of tomato sauce
8. Half a package of rice
9. One-fourth package of lentils
10. One-sixth bag of frosted miniwheats
11. Two packets of instant oatmeal
12. Salt, pepper, and ground thyme

Any amazing recipe ideas spring to mind? Take your time! Mull over this while I take the Non-Stick Cooking Spray, Package of Shredded Cheddar Cheese, and Two Small Tortillas downstairs to the kitchen and make myself a breakfast quesadiLLa.

...and yet HE's the one graduating today...

...and yet HE's the one graduating today...

There are some times I look at certain words, and wonder who decided that it should be spelled the way it is. I was writing my Chaucer final two days ago (10 one-page essays and one 7-page essay) and was putting down my thoughts regarding the similarities and differences between "The Nun's Priest's Tale" and "The Canon's Yeoman's Tale," when I tried to incorporate the word meaning "fire-filled" or "really really excruciatingly hot," I spelled it "Firey." Like a fire. Firey. But wait! That didn't look right. Oh. FiEry.

Four. Forty. Ugh!

I mentioned this to John.
"I have problems spelling the word 'fiery.'"
"f-i-r-e-y."
"AHA! But it isn't. It's 'f-i-e-r-y,' which totally doesn't make any sense. It's like the word 'forty'! We have four, f-o-u-r, and then forty, spelled f-o-r-t-y."
"It is?!"
"..."



Congratulations on graduating today, John. I'm proud of you for making it this far writing 'fourty' and 'firey' !!

I've done all I can...

I've done all I can...

...and now it's time to buckle down and work on my papers some more.

well. in a minute, anyway.

I thought i should take a break from my procrastination to offer up a bit of an update, so here i am.

in scholarly circles:
the semester ends this week, and John graduates this saturday, the 20th. I'm enrolled in two summer courses (the result of me telling my advisor that I will do anything, even sell a kidney on the black market, if it guarantees my graduating next spring), a science course and a history course. the history course begins on May 22nd and ends June 9th; the science course is from June 12th through the 29th.

in financial circles:
I need a job, terribly. I didn't hunt for one this semester, due to my position with Residence Life here on campus (hardly any money but looks good). The idea of waitressing is looking better, as this area is a bit of a tourist destination in the summertime.

in love circles:
still there. very much so. today, I was in a cranky, sad, emotional mood, and John kept hugging me and trying to cheer me up. "but think about it, honey, you have so many wonderful things happening in your life right now! (blah blah blah.) school's almost over; and you've found the person you want to be with for the rest of your life, someone who loves you so, so much." strangely enough, that helped. :)

the weather has been ferocious lately, with a ton of drizzle. if it was proper rain, I wouldn't be complaining, but this constant, cold drizzle, the temperature hovering around 40 -- it's ridiculous and sickening. last year at this time, though, we had snow.

so maybe i shouldn't complain.

O! the Insanity.

O! the Insanity.

Be proud of me! I never had made a banner the complicated way* until this evening. This banner involved three raster layers, merging, image cropping-resizing, adding artistic effects (watercolour and brushstrokes), and feathering the image over the banner area I had set up the complicated way! This is the third one I made this evening, and I love the colours, etc. (not the text so much, but I can change that next time).

I even made the stripes in PSP!

Why am I so motivated, you ask?

Simple, my friend! It's called "FINALS."

*The easy way: what I had before, a cropped, resized photo with lettering over it.

Lalibela

Read this; pay attention to the pictures of the churches. They remind me of Petra -- which is somewhere I've always wanted to go. How incredible! Here's more information about Petra.

I...

I think Jen just tricked me into posting. Fie on thee!

I AM: Sitting in the library, reading literature and writing a paper. Well, I was.
I WANT: To go to Bosnia; to traipse through European countryside; to inform people about landmines; to have a small apartment with wooden floors, tall windows, brightly-coloured walls, and painted terracotta pots of herbs and flowers sitting in the sunlight; a baby; to lose five pounds; to plan a wedding; to be finished with school; to be married (not in that order).
I WISH: That this paper was over. It's bothering me, because I'm being too darn introspective and intellectual about the entire thing. That this last year in school will go quickly.
I HATE: Anise; licorice; greasy, greasy food; bland food; stinky dogs; not having a water bottle.
I LOVE: Green grass, tulips and daffodils, cooking, long walks, the food network, good chocolate, brick buildings, lakes and oceans, John (also not in that order).
I MISS: Being able to read what I want, when I want; lying outside with the warmish breeze blowing across me; taking naps; spending an evening in front of the t.v., just for kicks.
I FEAR: Too much.
I HEAR: More than you think I do. Oh, the stories I could tell...
I WONDER: If my professor will like the argument I put forth in my paper.
I REGRET: Not writing this paper yesterday. ;)
I AM NOT: Drinking enough water.
I DANCE: With John; goofily.
I SING: Along with songs; commercials; jingles; guitar solos.
I CRY: At Sylvan Learning Center commercials; at sappy movies; at slightly sappy movies; at movies that aren't even a little bit sappy.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: In a good mood.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Excellent food, spotlessly clean living spaces (quit laughing, ang and gus!), good backrubs.
I WRITE: Not in this blog, apparently!
I CONFUSE: John's Aunt Janet and Aunt Judy. Aagh.
I NEED: More sleep; energy for two summer classes and 18 fall semester credits.
I SHOULD: Go take a shower; tidy up my room; e-mail mom.
I START: Letters that I never finish.
I FINISH: My papers; cleaning; stuff.
I TAG: Heidi, Sar, and Kate. :)

(I bought myself flowers the other day...)

(I bought myself flowers the other day...)

J: Are you going to come surprise me at work tonight?
D: If I tell you I'm going to come, it won't be a surprise.
J: Ah.
D: I'll make you a deal. I'll surprise you at work when you surprise me with white tulips.
J: ...you're not coming.
D: Apparently.

A Story with Pictures!

A Story with Pictures!

For as long as I've known John, I've wanted to travel with him; nationally or internationally, by car, boat, or plane -- just going somewhere. With him.

Late last Monday night, after John got done with work and made the 2-hour trek to Mom and Dad's house, we drove another two hours and stayed at his Mom's house. We got up early the next morning, packed the car, and he and his sister and I traveled to South Bend, Indiana (home of Notre Dame!).

John drove:


















Calm down; it's only a Jones' soda.

There was a ton of road construction in/around Chicago, and I'm not going to talk about that, other than that it was very intense, and involved many quick maneuvers (the semis in front of us blocked the road signs from our vision until we were AT THE EXITS), and much rubbing of shoulders and uttering of calming phrases (mostly, "We're going to be okay -- WATCH OUT!").

John grew up (well, his childhood was spent here, anyway) in South Bend, and loves the Fighting Irish. When we got to South Bend, he drove through the Notre Dame campus, so I could see what it looks like:



















Then we went on to his aunt's house, were we three were going to spend the next two nights. His aunt, uncle, and cousins were very nice and welcoming, but I didn't feel truly at home until I saw their cat. This is Hermann, the Lion King:



















That family also has a cute dog, Madison, who liked lying on my legs:





















That night, Tuesday, John and I went out to supper and then drove through South Bend for a while. It's a beautiful town, and reminds me so much of where my family and I lived in Pennsylvania. Even though South Bend is well-populated, there are beautiful trees everywhere, and it doesn't feel so huge.

When we went back to his aunt's house, we looked through family photo albums, which helped me put faces to names that I've heard for so long. Family Research In Action:














Wait. That would be a picture of Family Research In Action, but blogger wouldn't upload it. Maybe blogger doesn't know that it wasn't explicit or pornographic; we weren't researching FUTURE family, or MAKING a family, but looking at pictures. Anyway, on to the next.

On Wednesday, we went to the Notre Dame campus and walked around; here we are at the Grotto, down by the lake, lighting a candle:


























Cute? I thought so too; here -- you can see a close-up:





















John's sister also took this picture of us, sitting on a bench facing the Grotto; the lake is behind us:





















Here's another picture of the lake:





















As we walked to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, I asked John to take this picture, which is absolutely stunning (I have a thing for spires against a backdrop of beautiful skies):




















We went into the Basilica and were in awe of how incredibly beautiful it is; it's been renovated recently, apparently, and there were beautiful blues and golds and scarlets everywhere. So. Gorgeous. Here we are at the door:


























(That's my new coat from the Gap; John was taken aback at first when he saw it, and when I confronted him ["do NOT rip on this coat!"], he hesitated for a second, then said slowly, "It's very...piercing.")

We spent even more time at Notre Dame (are you noticing a theme?) on Thursday; I tried to seduce a guy:





















...yet John was still chummy with him:


























Undocumented by photos:

I met both sets of his grandparents, and two uncles, an aunt, two cousins, a great-aunt, a first-cousin-once-removed, in addition to the relatives I met at Christmas -- and when we were on the way back, I got to meet his dad, FINALLY. It was so strange meeting him, at last, because I've seen so many pictures and heard so many stories. John's relatives were all wonderful and welcoming and huggy, and it was perfectly lovely. I loved South Bend, I loved his relatives, and I loved being with him so much. Traveling in a car with him is so comfortable; he was, as usual, very affectionate to me, always putting his arm around me, kissing my hands or my mouth or my forehead. We had so many good discussions on the trip; something about the atmosphere of traveling in a car is conducive to talking. We want to go back to Indiana for another visit in May, after he graduates.

The End.

The Five Love Languages

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		12
Quality Time:		7
Words of Affirmation:		6
Receiving Gifts:		3
Acts of Service:		2

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.<br>
Take the quiz

Pseudo-Mom

Pseudo-Mom

I'm sick today. The icky, feverish, bone-aching, migraine, sore-throat sick. The kind of sick where you want your mom by you, smoothing your hair back and bringing you 7-up in a mug. Mom is two hours away, but John was just a few minutes away, and he took care of me today. I didn't want to be in my dorm all day, because Saturdays are noisy, and I knew that there'd be music and yelling going on most of the day, so John made up a nest for me at his apartment. He took his futon mattress into the kitchen (by the heater) and gave me lots of blankets and pillows, then said that he was going to go get a bagel and coffee from the coffee shop. He was gone for a long time, and I fell asleep, but when he came back, he was carrying a bag from the supermarket.

"I got you something!"

"what?"

"Dish soap!!"

"Ha, ha."

Actually, he brought me orange juice and cinnamon rolls, and spent the afternoon hovering over me, brushing my hair back from my forehead and pouring more orange juice into my special cup; I lay on the sofa with my head on his lap, falling asleep again; I moved to the futon, and he brought a book over and stayed by me while I slept.

And each time I woke up and realized that he was still there, that he wanted to be near me even though he knew that he would definitely get sick too...I felt so lucky.

--

He has a couple of shirts hung up in my closet, in case he has to head right to work after class -- he doesn't have to go home; he can just swing past here and grab his shirt. I keep going over and burying my face in the cotton, because that scent, the smell of his soap and cologne and him...that's one of the only things that I can actually smell today.

meme: 5 Guilty Pleasures

I was tagged by Sar quite a while ago, but couldn't come up with 5 truly guilty pleasures. But I'll have a shot at it:

1.) Cutting my hair. I do it too often, because I obsess over the feeling of doing it - the sound of the blades cutting the hair, the euphoria of seeing a mass of hair that I get to throw away. I think part of it has to do with the fact that I used to have long, long, long hair, and never cut it myself until a few years ago. (I cut my hair again tonight -- it's above my shoulders and gently layered, straight, with a few pieces pinned back from my face. I like it, very much. )

2.) I read, waaaay too much. A couple of semesters ago, I was averaging 5 extra-curricular books per week, in addition to my homework and textbooks (I also pulled a 4.0 that semester O:) ).

3.) Surprising John when he's at work. I don't do it that often; probably 5 times, but I love the look on his face when he hears someone ("NO! Another customer! Aaaagh.") approaching, then looks up with his bored, "How may I help you" face and sees me instead! His look freezes for a second, then melts into a huge smile.

4.) "Pure Seduction," a new scent from Victoria's Secret. My friend Jamie bought five bottles and gave one (GAVE ONE!) to me yesterday. I can't stay away from it - it smells almost like candy and makes me want to lick my arm (I have; it didn't taste as good as it smells).

5.) Reading weblogs. I found a few more recently that are so great; I really enjoy getting the little insights into people's lives.


There! I tag Jenni, Heidi (because, hello! You still haven't done it! ;) ), Heather, and Di.

Mad Skillz

Mad Skillz

Briane: Did you just cut your hair?!
me: Yes.
B: By YOURSELF?!
me: Yes.
B: Whoa! Those are Mad Skillz!
me: Like Nunchucks Skillz, and Computer-Hacking Skillz...only not so cool.
B: You have Haircutter Skillz!

Wow, I am so marketable.

Baby sale!

Baby Sale!

Today John and I were at the mall and walked past Gymboree.

This was in the window:

I wanted to stop in and buy one, but John said he's not ready to be a dad yet.

FREAK. ME. OUT.

FREAK. ME. OUT.

It's almost one in the morning, and I've been doing some reading for my Political Science class; my room is nice and clean, and the window is open a crack for some fresh air. I just heard a really icky, rough, male voice from down in the parking lot, and so I went to the window and peeked through the blinds -- a guy in a hooded cape was darting across the grassy area behind this all-female dorm, over to a waiting car (glad I'm on the 3rd floor! I would hate being on the ground-level). The cape was flapping in the wind, he looked really weird, and I'm still freaked out. We've had incidents here with people, dressed as vampires, wandering the halls in the middle of the night, ugh.

Movie:
On a lighter note -- I'm trying to rid my mind of that image -- John and I went to see "Firewall" last night. It is, I swear, the CLASSIC Harrison Ford Action/Thriller. John and I were waiting with bated breath a for particular Harrison Ford Moment we had predicted-- where he would be standing, dirty and disheveled, suit jacket open, his hair sticking up, breathing through his mouth, voice all rough and out of breath: "I WANT MY FAMILY BACK." Bonus if there's blood on his face.

(Seriously, though, it was one of the best movies I've seen in awhile. Go forth and view it!)

Music:
"Stairway to Heaven" is one of my new Favourite Songs. John has an iPod, and I played "StH" on Friday as we were running some errands; it was a melancholy afternoon anyway, quiet, with a horrible windchill, and as we were driving past the lake, I saw a phenomenon of nature that I've never seen before -- it was so cold that wisps of moisture were instantly frozen above the water, and being drawn up to the low-lying clouds. The surface of the lake was covered with the dense, whitish-grey tendrils, some connected to both the lake and the cloud simultaneously. It was breathtaking; it looked like it would be footage from the Arctic (which is what we practically were -- a windchill of -40F! Ugh.).

Led Zeppelin is one of my new ventures into classic rock; this adventure began early last semester, when I discovered the Beatles. My parents never listened to classic rock when I was young; I grew up listening to classical music, and I always come back to it -- far different from John's youth; his parents were born in the Sixties, and John grew up listening to their music: Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones. Last September, I began listening to the Beatles, with the help of shared libraries on my iTunes network. I loved what I was hearing, and for weeks, the Beatles was the only music I paid attention to. "Eleanor Rigby" is one of my very favourite songs of theirs; one of the things I love about the Beatles is that their sound is so distinct -- and their songs are so memorable; they can never be confused with a different band, with a different song.

And now it's way past time for me to go to bed.

In hiding because the sun's out...

In hiding because the sun's out...

I hate sunny Saturdays. Actually, I don't like sun in the winter in general, because it's blindingly bright. So today, I've been hibernating in my room, with the shades down, trying to budge this headache by drinking water and eating peanut m&m's, wearing huge sweatpants and a Bosnia shirt.

We hooka'ed it up yesterday; my Iranian professor invited us to an informal gathering, and we smoked hooka and drank tea for an hour. John is buying a hooka from the professor, on an installment plan ($10 here, $20 there, until he's paid about $100), but we joked that since the professor is genetically predisposed to be really good at bartering, by the time John pays him, the asking price will actually be $300 and our first-born son.

Yeah, right...

Yeah, right...

"Stop it. Quit teasing me."
"But, honey! I'm not teasing you -- I'm celebrating you."

Saturday!

Saturday!

I love Saturdays. This is how my Saturdays usually go:

Option A:
I wake up around 8:30 but stay in bed for at least another half hour, stretching, savouring the feeling of not having to go to class, not having to be somewhere doing something. I finally roll out of bed, into some clothes, and John and I meet for breakfast at a little diner-type restaurant. We've been there more than a few times for weekend-breakfasts, because they have amazing pancakes -- thin, delicious, and perfectly golden -- and wonderful coffee, and they're really cheap (think $3.75 per person). We take our time eating our breakfast and slowly drinking our coffee. For some reason, our conversation usually turns into a discussion about our families, about growing up, about our parents. Mostly about our parents and their parents; perhaps something homey about the nature of the restaurant, of the elderly waitstaff, encourages this.

Option B:
I sleep like a rock until 10:30, and after I rid myself of the last vestiges of sleepiness, I don jeans, sweater, and a light jacket, and meet John for lunch. We discovered a quaint pub-like restaurant a few months ago; the building didn't look promising; the cinderblocks needed another coat of paint, and looked rather run-down. We pulled open the heavy door and entered into a room that was full of people; the low ceiling and dim lights made for a den-like atmosphere, warm and lethargic, and the decorations were an eclectic mix of oddities: train lights, a sea bass, animated Christmas characters, and nautical and sports paraphernalia (fishing nets, buoys, NFL stuff). We finally found two seats together, and after skimming through the short menu, each ordered a hamburger and a side of fries. The food came in just a few minutes, and they were the best burgers we'd ever had -- thick and juicy, on a home-made roll, with plenty of lettuce and tomato, and fresh home-made fries. The best part: $10 covered the meal and tip.

The evening: Usually spent watching a movie or taking a walk; tonight, though, John works. He's leaving the apartment door unlocked, so I'm going to go take advantage of wireless internet and a kitchen.

Yes, I love Saturdays.

Envelope me

Envelope me

Bad news always comes in long, thin, white envelopes. Another bill, another statement from the college. So today when I opened my mailbox (on the first try, even, which in itself is a miracle, for we have ancient combination-lock mailboxes that are amazingly difficult to open), and beheld a wide, thin, ivory-coloured envelope, my excitement was piqued.

I'm on the Dean's Honor Roll. And I have a certificate to prove it.

Those Shoes.

Those Shoes.

I have a pair of huge, ugly, bright-white Manly Reeboks, which I have used only a few times, for an aerobics class I took LAST winter (couldn't wear street shoes in the dance studio).

I unearthed them the other day so that I could go work out, and John freaked out.

"What?! Those...those are hideous! Do you have ANY different shoes?"
"JOHN. This is my only pair of sneakers."
"But--"
"Stop, stop, don't even...Please?"

The conversation was resurrected today, when I mentioned that this afternoon while he's in class, I'm going to go work out (second time in two days! wheee!).
He swallowed. "With those shoes?"
"Yes. With THOSE shoes."
"You need a different pair. Seriously, I'll chip in and help buy them!"
"...You know, John, there are people in 3rd-World countries who have NO shoes."
"So, you should give those to them."

Regarding the New Shirt

Regarding the New Shirt

I recently purchased my first! ever! item of clothing from The Gap! (The Gap! cannot be said without an exclamation point of breathless awe). This item of clothing was on clearance, for my eyes always seek out every Sale! sign when I enter any store. It was long-sleeved and softly-knit, a quiet shade of pink that seemed to murmur, "You are in love with me, for I look like cotton candy. You want to hold me and worship me." I bought it, partially due to the fact that John had commented on the fact that I've been wearing mostly earth-tones lately, various shades of dirt and more dirt.

I showed it to him yesterday.

"Oh! Honey. I got this at The Gap! yesterday when I was with Kristen."
"You were with Kristen?"
"Yes."
"Kristen was with you when you bought this?"
"YES."

And his level of respect for Kristen decreased significantly, for she broke one of the main tenets of a Good Friendship: Friends don't let friends buy stupid clothes.

And then I fished the bag and receipt out of the trash can and set them on the dresser.

Yesterday...

Yesterday...

Yesterday was pretty fantastic. Mom and Dad, John and I went out for lunch and spent part of the afternoon together. I always love watching him interact with my parents -- joking around, talking politics with Dad, goofing around with my Mom. I look at him, and I am so proud of the person he is; the fact that he voluntarily spends time with my family (and likes it!) makes me appreciate him even more.

After Mom and Dad left, he and I went back to my dorm, because I needed to get a couple of things before we went to his place to watch a movie. He was sleepy, and I told him he could nap on my bed while I checked my e-mail and stuff. He slept through ten Beatles' songs, Faure's "Pavane" (2x), all three movements of Rachmaninoff's 2nd Piano Concerto, and the first movement of Rach's 3rd.

We spent the evening watching movies at his house, drinking Sangria (and too much Boone's Farm Strawberry Margarita -- I kept giggling), and eating Nutella on crackers.

Here's the thing about Nutella. I had never tried it until two days ago, when I had heard enough about it that I was finally motivated to drive to SuperWalmart and try it myself. I sat in the parking lot after I made my purchase, unscrewing the lid to the container, and peeling back the gold foil with great anticipation. As I sat there in the early-morning sunlight, listening to Mozart (it was his birthday) and basking in the glorious warmth of 38 degrees, I lifted the jar to my nose and sniffed it -- then gnawed and licked every last morsel off the foil. I took it over to John's house at lunch, and we stood there in his kitchen, diving in, marring the smooth surface, gouging out lumps of the rich chocolatey-hazelnut goodness with our fingers.

That jar is 2/3 gone. This is the sort of disaster that happens when John's and my sweet teeth get together and participate in a full-on sugar orgy. We go to movies and sneak in our own candy (thanks for the big shoulder-bag for Christmas, Mom!). A bag of Jelly Bellies, a box of Junior Mints, and an Almond Joy? The Jelly Bellies are gone within the first few minutes, and by the time the credits roll, we're left with empty cartons and wrappers. A huge Cadbury bar? Gone in half an hour.

A week and a half ago, I was feeling rotten from PMS, lying on his sofa, watching a movie; he made me hot chocolate, rubbed my feet, covered me up with blankets, and kept stuffing Cadbury with Almonds into my mouth.
He looked at me questioningly as he waved a morsel by my face.
"Does chocolate really help?"
"...Relieve symptoms?"
"Yeah."
"No, but it tastes reeeeally good."
"Oh. Okay. Here, have some more."

Help us, Obi-Wan. You're our only hope.

Help us, Obi-Wan. You're our only hope.

John is obsessed with Star Wars (I do not utter the word "obsessed" lightly). When we first met, I thought it was cute that he liked Star Wars so much, that he had all the DVDs and debated Star Wars history with his friends. I thought this was a lovable little quirk in his personality, that he was so into the series. Star Wars hasn't ever been one of my favourite series; I don't pick it up and pop it in the DVD player frequently, by any means. I've watched it with him, and it was okay. Well, to be truthful, he and his friends watched Episode III; I fell asleep 20 minutes into the movie.

For Christmas, he got a book entitled, "Star Wars and Philosophy," and my heart sank just a little. No. Someone was feeding the obsession (That person must be the kind who would infiltrate the local AA chapter and pass around a flask of vodka at the meetings. Gosh. Idiot!).

Now, when he and his friend's conversations [d]evolve into a debate about the ancient Sith and how they rose to power, I've pretty much learned to tune them out. I know more than I never wanted to, about mitichlorian levels, about the Sith's enticement, about the fact that Darth Vader's costume was inspired by the apparel of ancient Japanese shogun warriors. I can sit there reading my own book with a tolerant -- if frozen -- half-smile on my fact.

But I just read this, and a chill zipped up my spine, for it's an eerie premonition of what our kids will be like.

Burn, baby, burrrrrn!

Burn, baby, burrrrn!

I just worked out for a solid forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes?! Why, that's almost an hour! Over six miles on bike, and over a mile of jogging/walking. !! So, after exerting myself and burning up all those fat molecules and calories, why don't I look any thinner? It's so disappointing. Maybe it's just a streak left over from childhood, but I always expect to be able to find some evidence (other than my aching legs and the fact that I'm smelly now) that I just exercised. Does my face look hollower? Do my legs look slimmer? Is my butt tighter? Are my jeans looser?

NO?

Crap.


Things have been pretty crazy this semester so far; I couldn't get into a certain class that I wanted, so I'm down to only 12 credits. It's okay though, because the classes that I am in are much more demanding than most of the other classes I've taken. My Topics in World History class scared the crap out of me during the first class; I wanted to run away, but that was partially due to the fact that I was sitting near the front of the room, and people were behind me. I don't sit in the back, against the wall (where I'd like to be), because I don't want the teacher to think I'm a slacker, and I want to be motivated to participate in class...but I hate having people sitting behind me. It freaks me out and makes me extremely uneasy. Today we rearranged the chairs; instead of the traditional setup, we put them in a horseshoe-shape around the perimeter of the room, and I could not believe how much that helped me calm down.

I'm taking a political science course this semester as well; the professor is from Iran, and hilarious. He knows John, and knows that we are together; when he sees me without John, he raises his arms into the air, "Dänika! Where is the man??" On the first day, he discussed his accent. "I do have an accent; I've had this accent for a very long time, and I don't think it will go away by the end of the semester. So if that doesn't work for you...there's the door." He touched on the subject of gun control: "Some people say that 'Guns don't kill people; people kill people.' That is ridiculous. And if you have a problem with that, it is not because I am liberal -- it is because you are stupid." Aah, the bluntness.


In non-school life, things have been pretty good, too. :) John might be going abroad to teach English in Japan for a few months after he graduates this May; we still haven't heard back from the organization as to whether he'd be able to do only half of the program, instead of being there for nearly a year. He'd be able to make more money teaching English in Japan than substitute-teaching here; so for that reason, Japan is quite enticing. However, the fact that we'd be apart for so long is the reason why he might not go to Japan; he had been rather excited about the possibility of Japan, until last Sunday, when I finally told him how I felt about it. I'd been 100% supportive for months (whoa! months! I can't believe how fast time is passing. :) ), because I want him to do what he thinks he should; yet at the same time, I did want him to know what I really think about it. I explained to him that I can see how enticing it is-- and that the separation would be easier for him due to the fact that he'd be in a new environment, with new people and experiences, which make the time pass faster...but that I'd still be here, on campus without him, not meeting him for coffee in the morning, not watching movies late at night, walking down the stairs to the Senate office and not seeing him there. And then I lost it -- I hadn't cried about it in front of him, because I didn't want to sway his decision, but this time, I had tears running down my face. And he pulled me over to him and cradled my head on his shoulder as he wiped the tears off my face. "Oh, baby, oh no, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

And a few days later when I mentioned something about Japan, he interrupted me --
"IF I go. And that's a really big 'IF.'"

And I felt like singing.

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Extreme
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

Very melodramatic - and completely honest.

Very melodramatic - and completely honest.

I miss him so much that my skin hurts. I know it's only been a week, and I should feel lucky, for there are so many couples in love, who can snatch only a few days here and there, with long, desolate stretches in between. So, people who are in relationships like that, I know, I know, I shouldn't complain. But perhaps the fact that he and I were so spoiled, in a way, getting to see each other very nearly every day since we met...maybe that makes it more difficult.

From the second we part, my mind counts down the minutes until I get to see his smile again, hear his laugh, read together, cook with him, be in his arms, and smell his neck. I had to leave abruptly last week, summoned home, and the fact that I didn't get to prepare myself for the parting, made it hurt worse. We talk on the phone, and while I'm happy that I know him so well that I can picture every facial expression that goes with his words, it makes me long for the days when it was strange to talk on the phone -- so foreign, to hear his voice without being next to him.

There's a possibility of him teaching in Japan this fall, for four months, and the thought of it seems impossible right now, when I miss him so much. I know we could manage; of course we would. But it would certainly be a lonely time -- and so odd for me, still being in school without him there. No staying up late working on papers together, no early-morning coffee dates, no late-night perambulations through town -- l-o-n-e-l-y.

I love that we don't have to do anything in particular when we see each other -- it doesn't have to be a Huge Event, like, Oh, Look, Honey, We're Going Out for Dinner -- we're happy to just be with each other. Reading, cooking, watching movies -- just being. Sometimes we do go out, for dinner, or to a movie, but it's just another fun thing we do; it's not a big deal. When we met, we automatically had a certain level of comfortability, and ever since, that comfortability has merely increased. Things have never been tense or stressful -- I've never felt as though he expects me to be something I'm not; I've never felt the need to continually, purposefully, impress him.

But now, now, I just miss him.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

Gifts received from family:
glasses/contacts (from mom and dad)
Shower gel, chapstick, lotion (from nieces)
Borders & Waldenbooks gift card (from brother/sil)
French book & scrapbooking stuff (from sister/bil)

Gift received from significant other:
turquoise/gold bracelet, very Egyptian-looking (if they used turquoise, that is)

Gifts given:
beautiful old book (to John)
JFK memorial record (you know, like a biiiig black cd?)(to John)

(p.s.: the items I gave to John were things that I had procured long ago; I didn't have time to go Christmas shopping this year, so the gifts to my family are still forthcoming.)

(p.p.s.: actually, there's another gift to John - I'm not telling him that my IQ is nine points higher than his; no, I'm not vocalizing this, just having a fun old time partying it up inside. Woohoo!)

I was homeschooled.

I was homeschooled.

Over the past while, JBK has been continually amazed at how little pop culture I was exposed to when I was growing up.

Today, over lunch:

"How about 'Cheers'?"
"No. Never."
"Never seen 'Cheers'?!"
"No."
"Wow. This is like discovering an Indian tribe that evaded the White Man and his influence."

I'm on my way . . .

The past couple of weeks have been absolutely brimming with emotions. Frustration, stress, bliss, comfort, annoyance, panic, contentment, and the knowledge that everything is exactly as it should be. (Except for this nasty cold . . . And the karaoke.)

My door is shut against the sound of my dorm floor's Christmas party (Bah, Humbug!), my drawing utensils are scattered about me, making a halo of chalks and cray-pas to my prostrate body, as I lie on my stomach, gazing at a blank sheet of 9x12 paper.

I have to stare at the sheet for a second, poring over every square inch of white perfection. It always intrigues me, takes away my breath for a minute. It's beautiful in its very newness, yet I wonder what it will become. It's pure potential.

(As are we all.)

It's times like this that my senses are heightened, that I love even more the feel of the chalks between my fingertips; I revel in the chalkdust leftover on my hands, the dust caught on my carpet or desk as I gently blow the loose particles from my drawing.

I've organized my drawings in this end-of-semester frenzy, realizing that I need eight more before the end of the week is up. I've been drawing steadily through the semester, but I'm too much of a perfectionist, and that's my hangup. If I had realized earlier, my teacher doesn't care what it looks like. She exclaims over a few stray coloured marks across a sheet of black paper -- the squiggles must speak to her. But I'm clinging tenaciously to my belief that my drawings should BE something, something I recognize. At this point, it seems that for me to resort to churning out Modern Art, well, it seems like a cop-out.

So I'm here tonight, listening to Shivery, staring at reflections of Christmas lights, and catching a glimpse of random snowflakes as they lazily waltz past my window.

I'm distressed. Christmas Eve has always been my favourite of the Christmas holidays, for Christmas Day holds memories of hot, dry air, blindingly bright sunlight, and a tangle of emotions, including being on edge, frustration, confrontation, and being rushed. I love preparing for Christmas Eve -- I love anticipation, preparation, the excitement of looking forward to something. And this year, I'm being robbed of it. My last final is on December 23rd . . . which means that I'll get to my parents' house either the night of the 23rd or morning of the 24th. NO TIME TO PREPARE ANYTHING.

I feel as though I'm robbed of one of my favourite parts of the holidays. And that makes me so sad. I think it might be the culmination of a ton of things on my mind, but I cannot wait to have a place of my own, a house, with a husband, with some colour other than BEIGE on the walls. I want to slather indoor semi-gloss paint onto blank walls (and revel in the colour and smell of the latex paint), pin up some of my artwork and photography, arrange furniture, bake, cook, do dishes, organize my spice rack, go grocery shopping together, lust after baby clothes at the mall (oh, wait, I already do that . . .), make the place a home, comfortable and welcoming.

Things I've done in the past 10 days:

Things I've done in the past 10 days:

- made four batches of cookies
- taken two naps
- taken a wintery hike and numbed my mitten-less hands
- worked
- made a paper snowflake
- done dishes (not my own)
- watched "Back to the Future" for the first time
- gotten another A (!)
- killed the battery in my replacement vehicle (way to go)
- been having wheat again
- been mocked
- bought carrot cake for my roommate's birthday
- not changed the month on my calendar
- had the opportunity to study abroad in South Korea for free
- rewatched "It's a Wonderful Life" and decided I don't really hate it
- cried during "It's a Wonderful Life"
- laughed a lot
- drawn for my class
- listened to much Christmas music
- discovered that when transcribing an interview recorded in a crowded Starbucks(?), it's sometimes easier to discern the interviewee's voice when I cover the speakers with my hands or arms or other appendages.

yeah, he's a keeper...

yeah, he's a keeper...

The first time he saw me after I got back from Thanksgiving break (aka "Gorge yourself on anything you want, because after all, it's Thanksgiving, and it doesn't count! Have another cookie -- or two, or four, or thirty-seven!"), he hugged me, picked me up, and said...


"Wow, did you lose weight?"