This time last year, I was living in the Netherlands as an au pair and hating my life.
The year before, I was in Denver, getting a certificate to teach English abroad and planning a move to Poland (never happened).
The year before that, I was in my senior year of undergrad at Indiana and trying to convince my parents to let me switch majors from music to religious studies.
Now, I'm in North Carolina, in grad school for marriage and family therapy.
I'm pretty sure that this time next year, I'll be living on a commune in Duluth, hugging raccoons and harvesting the last of my swiss chard so I can sell it at the local farmers' market and have enough money to finish weaving my hemp wedding dress when I get married to my fiance, Wingspan.
It could happen.
Showing posts with label Hippies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hippies. Show all posts
Friday, October 16, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
This is untoward! This is not toward!
Well, hell.
In about a week, I'm taking this dog and pony show on the road.
I'll be setting up shop in a complicated dichotomy of a town comprised of pot smoking, patchouli wearing, dreadlock sporting hippies as well as Bible beating, Nascar loving, small business hating Republicans.
It's too bad there isn't a middle-of-the-road student group called "Women Libbers Who Like to Shower".
I think that defines me pretty well.
There are some things to which, I know, I will adjust very nicely. For example, I already know I like minor league baseball, southern accents and Cheerwine.
There are other aspects, however, that might take an adjustment. For example, the general slower pace of the South.
Most people don't think of the Midwest as a fast-paced environment. Well, it's not. That's not the point!
The South just moves at a different rate of speed.
The news of my assistantship was supposed to come the first week in July. It came the first week in August.
A form was e-mailed to me 2 days before it was supposed to be filled out, signed by a physician and returned.
Everyone takes a little longer to return my phone calls and so far, deadlines seem like more of a suggestion than anything.
Granted, I have never been a highly organized or structured person, but I am used to a slightly less relaxed attitude toward dates and time limits.
In fact, due to my procrastination and lackadaisical attitude toward due dates, I require that structured lifestyle to make sure I pay my cable bill or brush my teeth once in a while.
I'm sure it'll work itself out.
Of course there is also the concern that my new roommates/friends might make me try to, you know, like, love nature and whatnot.
I mean, I'll go on a short hike or get a little rowdy on the playground, but I'm not sleeping in a tent and spooning a bunch of squirrels, alright?
Well, I've still got a week to think about it.
In the words of Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock, "If I wanted to lick a hippie, I'd return Joan Baez's phone calls."
In about a week, I'm taking this dog and pony show on the road.
I'll be setting up shop in a complicated dichotomy of a town comprised of pot smoking, patchouli wearing, dreadlock sporting hippies as well as Bible beating, Nascar loving, small business hating Republicans.
It's too bad there isn't a middle-of-the-road student group called "Women Libbers Who Like to Shower".
I think that defines me pretty well.
There are some things to which, I know, I will adjust very nicely. For example, I already know I like minor league baseball, southern accents and Cheerwine.
There are other aspects, however, that might take an adjustment. For example, the general slower pace of the South.
Most people don't think of the Midwest as a fast-paced environment. Well, it's not. That's not the point!
The South just moves at a different rate of speed.
The news of my assistantship was supposed to come the first week in July. It came the first week in August.
A form was e-mailed to me 2 days before it was supposed to be filled out, signed by a physician and returned.
Everyone takes a little longer to return my phone calls and so far, deadlines seem like more of a suggestion than anything.
Granted, I have never been a highly organized or structured person, but I am used to a slightly less relaxed attitude toward dates and time limits.
In fact, due to my procrastination and lackadaisical attitude toward due dates, I require that structured lifestyle to make sure I pay my cable bill or brush my teeth once in a while.
I'm sure it'll work itself out.
Of course there is also the concern that my new roommates/friends might make me try to, you know, like, love nature and whatnot.
I mean, I'll go on a short hike or get a little rowdy on the playground, but I'm not sleeping in a tent and spooning a bunch of squirrels, alright?
Well, I've still got a week to think about it.
In the words of Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock, "If I wanted to lick a hippie, I'd return Joan Baez's phone calls."
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
How am I supposed to get into Harvard if I have no wilderness skills?
In a little more than two months, whether I'm ready or not, I'll be putting on my Student Pants once again.
On Monday, I secured a place to live for my first year of grad school. On Tuesday, I made my Fall '09 class schedule. Since my weekly productivity clearly peaked yesterday, I'm giving myself the rest of the week off.
There are already a lot of things I like better about grad school:
-my schedule gives me one class on T/W/R/F respectively
-registering for classes took me about 10 min.
-every time I call anyone at the university for assistance, I'm greeted with a mild southern drawl
There are, however, some things I will miss about undergrad:
-close proximity to my hometown
-having huge classes so no one notices if I "overslept"
-claiming I can't answer a question in Music Theory because I've been put on "vocal rest"
And still, some things remain the same:
-living in a small, hippie town at least an hour from a large city
-having all my classes in the same building
-ignoring all the nature-related opportunities for camping, hiking, canoeing, etc.
In time, I'm sure I'll fully adjust to the Boone way of life. This will probably involve making my own peanut butter, giving names to all the spiders I relocate to the outdoors and changing my name to Benevolent Ragweed Juice.
That could be a mild exaggeration, but if it isn't, there is no way in Hell I'm making my own peanut butter.
Choosy Hippies Choose Jif.
On Monday, I secured a place to live for my first year of grad school. On Tuesday, I made my Fall '09 class schedule. Since my weekly productivity clearly peaked yesterday, I'm giving myself the rest of the week off.
There are already a lot of things I like better about grad school:
-my schedule gives me one class on T/W/R/F respectively
-registering for classes took me about 10 min.
-every time I call anyone at the university for assistance, I'm greeted with a mild southern drawl
There are, however, some things I will miss about undergrad:
-close proximity to my hometown
-having huge classes so no one notices if I "overslept"
-claiming I can't answer a question in Music Theory because I've been put on "vocal rest"
And still, some things remain the same:
-living in a small, hippie town at least an hour from a large city
-having all my classes in the same building
-ignoring all the nature-related opportunities for camping, hiking, canoeing, etc.
In time, I'm sure I'll fully adjust to the Boone way of life. This will probably involve making my own peanut butter, giving names to all the spiders I relocate to the outdoors and changing my name to Benevolent Ragweed Juice.
That could be a mild exaggeration, but if it isn't, there is no way in Hell I'm making my own peanut butter.
Choosy Hippies Choose Jif.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Do you sell graham cracker plants?
"Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?" - Woody Allen in Annie Hall
I am, of course, referring to how strongly I feel about the Farmer's Market.
It is a magical place. I feel like everyone is welcome and because of the shared interest in buying local produce, we're all friends the second we arrive.
Whenever I go to any Farmer's Market, I get the urge to procreate so I can give my children hippie names like Rainbow or Forest or Clover. Just me?
I also want to befriend all the vendors so I can walk by and say, "Hi, Sandy. Your radishes look great! Oh hey, Murphy. Set aside a couple jars of the peach jam for me!" Doesn't that sounds fantastic?
I was in Bloomington this past weekend to see and hear my lovely friend, Sally, at her recital (outstanding, Sally!). Saturday morning, Sally and I went to the Bloomington Farmer's Market to see if she was moved by any seasonal produce.
We looked at kale, watched some clog dancing, side-stepped strollers and considered strawberry plants. Sally didn't buy anything because she's not silly with her money and I didn't buy anything because I rarely carry cash.
Even though we didn't buy anything, it was not a wasted trip. No trip is ever wasted at the Farmer's Market.
On a completely unrelated note, I recently rediscovered graham crackers! For most people, this probably isn't that interesting, but I'm newly enamored with this childhood treat.
I went home for lunch today and as I was walking out the door to head back to work, I decided to grab something I could nosh at the office. I didn't even know we had them! They were hidden behind some poorly organized tupperware (everyone has that cabinet, don't they?), but when my gaze fell upon them, I knew we were M.F.E.O.
I couldn't even wait until I returned to work to open them. I busted those suckers out in the car. And that's when I remembered that graham crackers are tasty, but messy. Still worth it.
On a third completely unrelated note, I am currently without speedometer. If you have ever been in a car with me (I'm very sorry), you are well aware of my tendency to exceed the speed limit. It may not be a big deal for a lot of you, but I challenge you speed demons: the next time you're making even a short trip, don't glance at your speedometer. Try and gauge your speed by other drivers and your own judgment. It's not nearly as much fun as it sounds.
I am, of course, referring to how strongly I feel about the Farmer's Market.
It is a magical place. I feel like everyone is welcome and because of the shared interest in buying local produce, we're all friends the second we arrive.
Whenever I go to any Farmer's Market, I get the urge to procreate so I can give my children hippie names like Rainbow or Forest or Clover. Just me?
I also want to befriend all the vendors so I can walk by and say, "Hi, Sandy. Your radishes look great! Oh hey, Murphy. Set aside a couple jars of the peach jam for me!" Doesn't that sounds fantastic?
I was in Bloomington this past weekend to see and hear my lovely friend, Sally, at her recital (outstanding, Sally!). Saturday morning, Sally and I went to the Bloomington Farmer's Market to see if she was moved by any seasonal produce.
We looked at kale, watched some clog dancing, side-stepped strollers and considered strawberry plants. Sally didn't buy anything because she's not silly with her money and I didn't buy anything because I rarely carry cash.
Even though we didn't buy anything, it was not a wasted trip. No trip is ever wasted at the Farmer's Market.
On a completely unrelated note, I recently rediscovered graham crackers! For most people, this probably isn't that interesting, but I'm newly enamored with this childhood treat.
I went home for lunch today and as I was walking out the door to head back to work, I decided to grab something I could nosh at the office. I didn't even know we had them! They were hidden behind some poorly organized tupperware (everyone has that cabinet, don't they?), but when my gaze fell upon them, I knew we were M.F.E.O.
I couldn't even wait until I returned to work to open them. I busted those suckers out in the car. And that's when I remembered that graham crackers are tasty, but messy. Still worth it.
On a third completely unrelated note, I am currently without speedometer. If you have ever been in a car with me (I'm very sorry), you are well aware of my tendency to exceed the speed limit. It may not be a big deal for a lot of you, but I challenge you speed demons: the next time you're making even a short trip, don't glance at your speedometer. Try and gauge your speed by other drivers and your own judgment. It's not nearly as much fun as it sounds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
