Bucket List Update and Revision

My new change of location midsummer prompted a few additions to the summer bucket list.

1. Read Les Miserables.
2. Get tan(ish).
3. Learn a new song on the piano.
4. Find cheap flights to Denver for Mark's wedding (fingers crossed).
5. Write something every day.
6. Explore the lighthouse at Discovery Park.
7. Go to Elliott Bay Bookstore (and don't spend more than $30).
8. Find the Sleepless in Seattle house.
9. Listen to the singing monks.
10. Become the alpha-male of the dogs I nanny.
11. Swim in Green Lake.
12. Go to the Jimmy Eat World concert.
13. Go to the Death Cab concert.
14. Visit the awesome cemetery on Capitol Hill.
15. Read a Russian (with emotional clearance from Melis and/or C).
16. Start (and finish) Jesus the Christ.
17. Make tortillas.
18. Watch The Breakfast Club.
19. Paint.
20. Go on a trip. (Canada? Spokane?)
21. Dance on the roof.
22. Attend a reading (or three).
23. Go boating.
24. See the PUPPIES.
25. Show Jess an episode of AR with STEVE HOLT.
26. Go to the temple with the boy.
27. Fish. (Thomas?)
28. Wash the car regularly.
29. Visit the Seattle Art Museum.
30. Go to an outdoor movie.
31. Ride a ferryboat.
32. Go to a Mariners game.
33. Hit the Ballard Seafoodfest.
34. Visit Chihuly Garden and Glass.
35. Ride the ferris wheel.
36. Go to the Marathon memorial in Copley Square.
37. Swim at Walden Pond.
38. Visit the JFK Museum.
39. Buy an air conditioner.
40. Attend a concert at the Hatch Shell.
41. Go to a Red Sox game.
42. Hit up Boston Magazine's Ice Cream Spectacular list.

On Coming Home

Ten days ago I flew to my city, arriving to witness the intense love for their teams, even though we lost to Chicago while I was on the plane. Sadness. (Andy, no gloating.)

I spent the night with a cat and the next morning had two and a half hours of interviews with some of the nicest people I have ever met. Their company is pretty great, too. The afternoon was spent on Charles Street eating pizza and JP Licks with my favorite people, and even though I didn't really know, I knew I'd be walking to Harvard Square for more JP Licks with my darling Anne Marie regularly.

And I was right. I'm flying in July 29, walk to Harvard that evening AM? I can't think of a better way to restart my life in Boston.

On In Houston

I'd dislocated my life, so I went to the zoo.

Four weeks ago I traveled to Boston for the annual AWP Conference. (Association for Writers and Writing Programs--don't ask me why it's not AWWP, I don't know the official answer. But it would be a stupid acronym.) It is a conference that I would be genuinely interested in each year, but was compounded by the fact that it was being held in Boston. Though I never admitted it to anyone (except maybe once to Mc?), part of my desire to go was a hope that my decision to move away would be validated by a return. I would see the city I love and the people I love and say, "Yes, I love them, but I don't belong here anymore."


I missed / the bitter tinny Boston smell of first snow, / the huddling in a cold bus tunnel.

My first twenty-four hours back in the city, I literally could not stop grinning like an idiot. I grinned when C picked me up, when I saw the skyline, when I walked into Quincy Market blocks from my old office. I grinned watching my BBQ chicken mac&cheese lunch cooked in front of me, I grinned on the T (the Green line, even), I grinned in the rain/snow down Boylston through Copley Square. I grinned walking into Clarke's. I grinned up the stairs of the Nottinghill House. I felt lighter, I was happy.


no bird can get its song sung right, separated from / models of its own species. 

Even with a red eye and a three-hour time difference, ten hours at AWP left me invigorated rather than exhausted. I went to panels on Boston's literary history, contemporary American writing, technology and the ebook's influence on publishing. I heard Tony Hoagland and Dobby Gibson and Matthew Pearl. I took pictures of old classmates running a panel, thinking, "They are presenting at a national conference and I went to school with them." I walked through a book fair filled with hundreds of books and lit mags and opportunities. I felt a spark rekindle.

I couldn’t relate to a giraffe— / I couldn’t look one in the face.

During Tony Hoagland's panel I heard a darling poet tell the story of how she began to write. Through what she called good fortune, she was accepted to an MFA program (the only one to which she applied). As she went to class each week and sat around a conference table to workshop she said, "For the first time in my life I was surrounded by souls that spoke to mine."


How did we get here, dear sloth, my soul, my sister?

When I graduated eleven months ago, I was tired. I had drained myself physically and mentally and emotionally; I needed a change. I thought that a new location could help this new phase of my life sans school. But when I left Boston I also left an integral piece of me. The piece that sees tiny details of design and admires a well-constructed sentence. The piece that has been with me most of my life, since my dad banned reading in the bathroom, but took me so long to find academically. These eleven months without it have been long, and sometimes dark. But for the first time in nearly a year I was all of me. Surrounded by souls that spoke to mine.

I choose to be all of me again.


April is National Poetry Month, and I connected more strongly with Gail Mazur's reading of "In Houston" at AWP than any other poem I have heard to date.

Back Again

Copley Square

This is quite possibly my favorite spot in all of Boston.
And it's getting harder to leave every time.

Published, Again

I recently submitted a guest post to the LDS literary blog called Segullah, and today they published it. So for today's reading, I'd like to redirect your attention here.


And yes, I am excited to be publishing things a few weeks in a row. Even if it is just for blogs. A whole lot better than no publishing at all.

The Ballet. Also, Dan.

Last night after eating massive amounts of teriyaki while watching this week's episode of The Mindy Project (Have you watched it yet? "Danny, will you make a pact?" I died.), I got all dressed up in a fancy fluffy dress (thanks, Megan!) and went to the Pacific Northwest Ballet's Nutcracker.

It was magical.

Elise, me, Amy

Several years ago, Maurice Sendak partnered with the PNB manager to design the sets and costumes. I loved reading about that in the program, because the sets just felt like Maurice Sendak. And it's really such a great story for him to be a part of. All about the ease of children to slip in and out of fantasy.

Easy to see him in the set, isn't it?

The sets were fabulous, the costumes were beautiful (I must, must get a tulle skirt that flies up when you twirl), and the music in the second act had me grinning the entire time. It was a wonderful night.




In other news, today my dear friend Dan turns 28. (So old.) If we still lived in the same state, we would celebrate with cake waffles again. As it is, I'm eating french toast tonight. I'll think of you and your birthday and how I'm so glad we became friends during that perfect Boston summer.

It was magical too.

A Green Christmas

It's been seven years since I lived in the Pacific Northwest during the winter, and I have to say, as much as I hate the snow it's a little weird to be coming into December without it. 

Thinking about this time last year

I was wicked busy with my magazine, and D got me hooked on Gossip Girl. Those were the only other things that happened Thanksgiving weekend, other than Thanksgiving. Which was a delightful day:

All photos blatantly stolen from AM's blog last year. Love you, AM!

If we could float away

This post is long overdue.

McCall and I went to the very much anticipated Coldplay concert in a time when both our lives were filled with anxiety. She was taking the dreaded NCLEX two days later, and I was preparing to quit my job and move across the country (plus it was nearly birthday week). (She had more anxiety than I did.)

We picked up dinner on the way—Buffalo chicken macaroni and cheese will be forever linked with the anticipation felt this night—and at some point during our trip to the TD Gardens I told McCall that this was the night she might see me dance.

It is well known by all my friends in all stages of life that I rarely dance in front of people. But this concert was different than all those times I've refused to dance. There was a palpable energy in the room; I felt the music in my bones. And when the music is that deep inside of you, you really don't have a choice but to dance.

We sang and we danced, and when Chris Martin came out and started "Us Against the World" alone on the acoustic guitar, McCall cried (but, you know, Chris Martin is her sloth).



I have never been as jealous of Gwyneth Paltrow as I was that night.

Pro/Con List

Moving to Seattle Cons:

• Public transportation in a widespread city takes forfreakingever to get anywhere. 
• Pacific time zone does not allow you to call friends in Boston and/or DC when you get out of class at 9 p.m.
• Job hunting sucks.

Moving to Seattle Pros:

• It has rained once in the past month, and the weather is quite pleasant for someone who's lived in New England for two years (roommates are wimps) (also, Boston is quite rainy currently = irony).
• There are so many more trees.
• Mexican food is available and actually tastes like Mexican food should taste.
• Rent is half as much each month.
• Unemployment allows for babysitting cousins once a week.
• Printmaking class. Best idea ever. (Granted, this also would have happened in Boston. But the tuition would probably have been three times as much.)
• Going home for Conference weekend costs $25 instead of $400. Tualatin, here I come.

My Buddy

When I moved to Boston, I left my Melis in Provo. After talking to her nearly every day since after leaving Egypt in September 2008, I had to deal with some serious best friend withdrawals. I made several really good Boston friends, but Melis and I both know that the one who came closest to replacing her (no one will ever replace you, M) was dear Anne Marie.

Photo of us on my birthday, stolen from AM.
Please excuse the packing mess in my room.

Anne Marie is a sweet, strong, funny person. Her laugh is infectious, especially when she laughs in less-than-appropriate settings (Sacrament Meeting). She loves ice cream more than I do, and that's saying something. She is an excellent example of healthy living, something I will never do as well as she does. She uses her time wisely. She doesn't submit to social pressure when she isn't interested in doing certain things, which I appreciate. She loves pigs. Her parents are her best friends. She is a great conversationalist and a fabulous listener. And she knows when a girl needs chocolate.

Anne Marie is exactly the kind of person you want around when you want to have fun, or just be chill. She will go on ice cream runs, and walks to talk about life. She'll discuss nail polish as seriously as she does her schoolwork, and she is a critical and honest shopping partner. She is brave, and encourages bravery in others. She will never give up on you, and always has your back.

And because I'm sure Mel will make them play the game, I would marry Anne Marie because she is such an honest and faithful friend. She is the best kind of buddy a girl could ask for.


Happy birthday, AM. I sure do love you.

Never Changing

In July I took a trip up to Vermont with McCall, Anne Marie, Curtis, and Jake. During the drive, McCall suggested we play a game where we'd go in a circle, choose a song on the ipod, and then tell the rest of the car a memory that went along with the song. 

It's incredible how strongly music is tied to memory.

There is a band based in Vegas that has rapidly become successful over the last year. Most of their LDS following claims them as being from Provo, since the initial band was started there. But all current members (except one) attended the Berklee School of Music in Boston. And while he was in school, the drummer was good friends with my roommate Danielle. Who introduced me to the band's EP while we lived together.

So even though they really aren't connected to Boston as a band, they will always be connected to Boston in my mind. And when I run into their music everywhere from the radio to the Olympics to movie trailers, I can't help but think of D and be so proud of her friend.

A Perfect Day

Though technically today was my last full day in Boston, I really considered yesterday to be it. Today was Sunday, which meant church and a nap and other Sunday things that aren't very Boston-y. But yesterday was the most Boston-y of Boston-y days.

I got up early (on a Saturday, be proud) to accomplish a few moving errands, and chit chatted in the kitchen with Mel. Then I took the T across the Charles to Newbury Street for a hair appointment with my wonderful stylist, Amy. We talked about moving and how much we love the Pacific Northwest, and when she was finished I walked out into the Boston humidity that slowly curled my newly-styled hair as I walked the length of Newbury Street to the Boston Public Library. I walked through that beautiful old building with its arched ceilings and green lamps where I wrote my paper on Salman Rushdie and designed my beautiful poetry book. Then I took Boylston Street through Copley Square, Arlington, the Boston Gardens, and the Common. Past Robert McCloskey's ducklings on whose backs I once jumped. Past Emerson and the hole-in-the-wall burrito place. Past the stage for Shakespeare in the Common. Past Boston Magazine's Best of Boston award winning UBurger frappes.

That afternoon I drove with Mel and D to Walden Pond, stopping for drinks at Cumberland Farms on the way. We avoided the beach and instead found a rock stairway down to the lake (though this time we didn't have to sneak in) and swam in the dirty, duck-filled water for an hour. The sun came out as we did, and we made our way to Kimball Farms where I shared delicious heath bar ice cream with AM, and Curtis ate a pint by himself. We sat at a picnic table under an umbrella, admiring a beautiful curly-haired baby and laughing at the noisy geese behind the fence as we waited out the pouring rain that started while we sat.

In the evening we went to the mall to return some items and look for a few more. As usual, Mel, D, and I got separated and then went to all the same stores at different times. D got some great deals and I wanted to buy out both Banana Republic and J. Crew, so it was a normal shopping experience.

Instead of our typical Saturday night laziness at home, we got dressed up and AM, Curtis, and Calvin accompanied us to the South End for dinner at The Gallows. The restaurant was fun, the food was delicious, and we all looked (plus Curtis and AM smelled) excellent. As did the restaurant's coasters. So good, in fact, I may or may not have taken one with me as an example of gorgeous design. The drive home through our beautiful city all lit up made me feel so lucky that it was a part of my life. I will miss it.

Bye, Boston.

Lasts

Last week at work. Unfortunately, Monday was my last day at my computer and I didn’t know it. If I had known, I would have taken more advantage to appreciate it. For the remainder of my time I worked on a computer quite possibly from the late 90s that made me restart Outlook every half hour.

Last lunch at the hot dog stand with the 20-something boy who flirts with me regardless of whether or not I washed my hair the night before.

Last Sunday at church. Yes, I will be wearing my lace dress and blue (maybe hooker?) heels. Leave an impression.

Last birthday in Boston, which, coincidentally, is also my last year in the early 20s. 25 is officially mid-20s, yeah? It’s right in the middle of them, so that seems to make sense. I had a lovely birthday lunch, which was later haikued. And I absolutely ate steak for my birthday dinner, just like when I was little.

Last time at Walden Pond. First time I actually got in the water.

Last walk with Anne Marie. Sadly, I think this happened on Thursday, unless we  walk tomorrow (which is unlikely). There is a very good possibility that I will miss her the most when I leave. She's my buddy. Maybe we'll have phone walks when we're across the country from each other.

Last trip to the BPL. To return (way) overdue books. Sound familiar?

Last trip to the post office. Thank heaven. I made at least six trips within the last week. Moving is fun...

And Then There Were Four

I attended my very first concert in 2007. Snow Patrol, a new listen for me, and OK Go opened the concert for them. It was a cold March night in Salt Lake, and I went with a boy who'd broken up with me a month before, but we were still friends. The concert was loud and overwhelming, but so fun, and the lead singer shared a great anecdote about singing Set Fire to the Third Bar in San Diego.

Really crappy photo taken on a phone before the iPhone existed.

My next concert happened a little over a year later. In May 2008, while home for the summer, I drove with Kirs and her good friend Sarah out to Bend to see Death Cab for Cutie, with The Decemberists and Mates of State opening. As we waited to get in we could hear the band tuning, and as they ran through What Sarah Said it started to rain and the entire line began to sing along with the band. It was magical.

Kirs and I waiting in line.

Sarah and I at the concert. We were smashed up in the front.

My last concert was probably the most fun. While I was in Jerusalem Kait and Erik started dating, and they got engaged the following May. I discovered Erik's love for Kelly Clarkson on Kaitlyn's birthday, and that spring of 2009 when Kait was home in Oregon but Erik and I were still in Provo I accompanied him to the Kelly Clarkson concert at UVU. I have only seen Erik more excited one other time in our friendship (the day he and Kait got married) than when we went to that concert. He was beaming; it was just as much fun to watch Erik as it was to watch Kelly Clarkson. And her live version of Miss Independent was better than any recording possible.

A double rainbow over the stage. The rain was rockin'.

Tonight will be my fourth, and quite probably best, concert. At 7:00 p.m. in the TD Gardens, McCall and I will dance like crazy people while listening to Coldplay. I finally get to wear the glow-in-the-dark musically-coordinated bracelets, and see the patented Coldplay confetti. I can't wait. 

Grey's Anatomy is rubbing off on me...

I am leaving this wonderful (albeit, humid and muggy) city

Image source.

and moving to this wonderful (rainy and overcast) city

Image source.

I will find Patrick Dempsey and his fabulous hair in a bar across the street from my new job, and we will fall in love. (That part is a lie. I hate Patrick Dempsey in Grey's. Plus I don't yet have a new job. Two lies.)


But it is happening, sans McDreamy. In three weeks. We have officially started counting down . . .

Last Year

Remembering our canoeing adventure today. Glad and sad it isn't happening again this year all at the same time.

People Like Lists

Two (count them) people have suggested that I make a list of things that I want to do in Boston this summer. "If you write them down you're more likely to do them!" says my mother. So, this is a post full of summer lists.

Because who doesn't like lists?

Boston Summer Fun List

• SAIL. Because, good grief, it still hasn't happened. But it will, darn it. 
• Visit the JFK Library and Museum. Shocking I haven't done this yet, no?
• Traipse around the USS Constitution.
• Wander through the Boston Athenaeum. This might never happen. We've planned it a bajillion times. (UPDATE since starting this list: it is happening today! In roughly an hour!)
• See the exhibit on printmaking at the BPL. Seriously! (UPDATE: happened. See two weeks ago.)
• Go to a Red Sox game.
• Go to John Adams's house. I hear the library is stunning.
• Play with Lindsay in Plymouth.
• Go to Salem. Witches. Nathaniel Hawthorne. How is this not a good idea?
• Drink another peach-mango smoothie in the North End. oh goodness. (Dan, you'll vouch, they are amazing, aren't they?)
• Attend the Coldplay concert with McCall (woohoo!).

East Coast Summer Fun List

• See the Hannah Duston statue in New Hampshire. I'm so close. How can I not go?
• Go to Maine! And eat lobster! And figure out why I've been in love with it for years (with Maine, not lobster. I've never tried lobster.).
• Wander to Prince Edward Island? Oh that would be awesome.
• Meet Miranda in Providence. Might turn into NYC/Boston/DC (we don't know yet).
• Visit Michelle's family in New York again.
• See DC one more time. Man, I'll miss that city.
• Play tour guide for Kait and Erik when they come down, yay!

Summer Reading List

• Anna Karenina (UPDATE: I was told to avoid the Russians this summer because of how much what I read affects my mood.)
• The Problem of Pain
• Howards End
• Imagine
• The Lost World
• Les Miserables
• Crime and Punishment OR The Brothers Karamazov (UPDATE: see Anna Karenina.)
• Midnight's Children
• Dandelion Wine
• The Sun Also Rises
• Persuasion
• Eve and the Choice Made in Eden
• Anthem

That's it for now. But we all know I'll make more lists. I love lists. So, suggestions?

This weekend, I was not eaten by a bear

I did, however,

"sleep" in a sleeping bag,

eat a tinfoil dinner,

roast marshmallows,

get bitten by mosquitoes,

read Howards End by a lake,

 paddleboard,

learn to play solitaire with real cards,

flirt with a three-year-old boy,

burn things in a campfire.


A real camping experience, Jamie. That'll be enough for at least a year.

On the Friday before a three-day weekend,

when you discover that you get to leave work four hours early,

you make plans. Obviously.


First, you stop at Starbucks to visit Jackie and/or Emily (can't remember if they're both there on Fridays?) and get some hot chocolate, because it's surprisingly cooler than was expected today (good choice on the jeans rather than a skirt this morning).

Next, you walk 1.5 miles from the Starbucks at Faneuil Hall down to the Boston Public Library at Copley Square. It will look something like this:

When you arrive at the BPL, you don't go straight for the books (even though you want to). Instead, you go to the Changing Exhibits Gallery to see this:

Image via BPL.

After being inspired by printmaking, you browse the books. Also, you look for Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows on CD because they are no longer available via grooveshark. You might hit up the DVDs, maybe they have Anne of Green Gables? Or, even better, Liam Neeson movies! (Specifically, The Mission. Also, Taken.)

Once browsing has ended, you take public transit back home, where, if you were successful in your movie search, you take your laptop to the kitchen to watch a Liam Neeson (or Anne?) movie, put on stretchy pants and your Garamond T-shirt, take out your ink, rubber blocks, and printmaking tools, and attempt to recreate art you saw at the BPL. You might also paint with oils. It is quite likely you will accidentally paint the tiny kitchen table while doing so.

Hours later, when your roommate and her best friend arrive home, you realize you should probably stop making messes pretending to be an artist and actually eat a real meal. So you clean the table, wash your hands, and eat something before spending hours alternating between reading Howards End and watching either A Room with a View or episodes of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix, depending on how cultured you feel. Then you go to bed surprisingly early, considering the rest of the week.



And that's how you start a three-day weekend when you get to leave the office four hours early.