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.

Back Again

Copley Square

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

Dance It Out

If there's one thing I've learned from Grey's Anatomy (let's be real, all my life lessons in the last four months are from Grey's), it's to dance it out.

McCall, AM, Melis, Ali. I know you all have things sucking right now. And I know you all have watched this show as religiously as I.

30 second dance party. Now.

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.

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...

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 . . .

A Brief Thought on Art

I've been rereading Asher Lev. The Gift of, this time though, not My Name Is. I meant to read it a few months ago, but forgot because of something-or-other in my busy life. But the past few weeks I've been thinking a great deal about art. Art as therapy. Art and its relationship with religion. So, naturally, I turned again to Asher Lev. And this passage yesterday seemed more important than it has in the past:

"Oh do not think it was all done out of the goodness of my heart, Asher Lev. Artists are not kind. Artists are selfish and calculating. If you had only a talent for drawing, it would have ended quickly. But you possessed the capacity for rage. Even the Rebbe could not see the anger in you. I saw those demons. They were the source for your art."

A friend I had a long time ago suggested on more than one occasion that I try painting to express my feelings. I've been doing it lately, funny enough, but I don't have enough talent or demons for it to really say anything. What I ought to do is write.

But I can't.

Confession

I have been watching Grey's Anatomy, and I cry every time.




At least it's not One Tree Hill.

Proof for James

Dear roommate Jamie doesn't think I'd really go camping. (Let's be honest, her skepticism is totally founded.) So I had Miss McCall send me the only photos that were taken of me during said camping trip, and I am posting a few here. For you, James. (Feel so special, pictures from old roommates twice in the same week!)

Please admire my poodle-hipster bun.

Burning things is fun.

Oh hello, super awesome fire.

Flame

Mentally cleaning out my life. Clothes, shoes, furniture, papers, school materials, nick knacks, letters.

Camping this weekend (crazy, I know). Might have a box full of stuff to burn. I've been told it's cathartic. 

Wishing I Could Run Away

Across the Pond

Dear Europe,

I know everyone says you are fabulous and that I will one day admire you, and I'm sure that's true. Especially Florence, I look forward to a love affair with Florence. But good grief, this was quite possibly the worst possible timing to take away my Melis. This whole unreachable thing is taking a toll on me. And perhaps on a few others. Send her back to me?



Impatiently,
Al

Preparing for

Graduation, by

• making dinner reservations here.
• reducing library fines, and actually paying them all back (first time ever).
• reviewing loan policies and promising to pay them, too.

Summer, by

• beginning the goal to read all the books I own but haven't read before.
• calculating the time from my office to the harbor, to eat lunch outside (seven minutes).
• purchasing concert tickets.

Life, by

• creating a yoga sticker chart.
• realizing a great name for a pet cat (Minerva).
• worrying enough to create a desire to go running again. Shoot.

Blog Stalking and Unfinished Thoughts

Tonight, after a sudden emotional decision to stop designing (because sometimes it's just too much) I started perusing my Melis's archives. The were full of posts I remembered, and some I didn't. They made me homesick. Not for Provo (I never miss Provo). For that third bedroom in the apartment with a map on the wall, and a bed with green sheets, and a snitch keychain. So even though it has nothing to do with the homesickness, I'm stealing a blogging habit of hers. If I could steal so many of her habits I'd be set for life.



Old Drafts

If tired of trees I seek again mankind,

Well I know where to hie me -- in the dawn,

To a slope where the cattle keep the lawn.

There amid lolling juniper reclined,

Myself unseen, I see in white defined

Far off the homes of men, and farther still,

The graves of men on an opposing hill,

Living or dead, whichever are to mind.

And if by noon I have too much of these,

I have but to turn on my arm, and lo,

The sun-burned hillside sets my face aglow,

My breathing shakes the bluet like a breeze,

I smell the earth, I smell the bruised plant,

I look into the crater of the ant.
--Robert Frost

~~~

I have many friends and acquaintances who are touchy people. They touch your arm when you say something funny, they give you a hug when you leave the room, they nuzzle their head against your shoulder in greeting. I also know people who are so far from touchy that even when you greet them after four months of separation their hugs are stiff and have too much space in between your bodies. (B22 girls, you know who this is.)

Physical touch is a form of communication. I have a friend who was once convinced that if you shook the hand of the person on whom you were crushing you could immediately tell if anything could happen. (Did I get that right? And what happened the first time you shook hands with Paul?)

~~~

Loving March Reason #2: I heard Billy Collins read on Friday night and enjoyed his thoughts on titles, among other things

~~~

This Week's Designing Brought to You by

Mumford and Sons. Calv was whistling them on Tuesday night and they've accompanied my work ever since. Not a bad choice, though.

Experimenting

Image found here.

For the last several weeks I have started a few experiments which have been mentioned in passing a few times on this blog. I'd like to take the time to report.

Experiment Uno: Cut Processed Sugar
I've been having a variety of digestively-related health problems over the last year or so, and after I got tired of doctors (again) I decided to (continue to) self-diagnose. The beginning of that self-diagnosis was processed sugar. For the past eight weeks I have cut it from my diet (except for when I ate a chocolate reindeer-rabbit in a moment of weakness) to see if it would have an effect on my overall health. It has...ish. Not enough to determine processed sugar as the sole cause of said problems.

Experiment Numero Dos: Maintain a Proper Sleeping Schedule
Along with eating much (much) healthier, I wondered if perhaps (more/better) sleep might affect my near-constant state of fatigue. Thus, I created a Sleeping Sticker Chart. No mocking said chart (cough*Dan*cough). It works. Over the last five weeks I've only missed five days.

Experiment Tres: Learn To Let Go
This one is only five days old, and will probably rival the next experiment in difficulty. But for Lent this year, I'm letting go some long-harbored ill feelings. (Also my tendency to complain, but that isn't really part of this experiment so does not warrant a mention. Though it just got one.) The plan involves some isolation and some prayer and some study. We'll see how it goes.

Experiment Numero Quatro: Cut Wheat
Last night for dinner I made myself some whole wheat macaroni and cheese. Very quickly after consumption I nearly died (not of consumption. of macaroni.). I have been suspicious of wheat for a while, even if my coeliac disease tests did come back clear, so as of today (or maybe next week? I just bought bread) I will be adding some sugar and cutting all wheat. Which will perhaps be the most difficult experiment of all time. I freaking love bread. Cross your fingers that's not the problem.

Heartbreakingly Beautiful

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

I can't take back the things I never did.

Everything that's born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they're all on fire, and we're all trapped.




I want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.

Jonathan Safran Foer

Christmas after Jerus

Dearest Desiree,

You're coming home as we speak. That semester flew by, didn't it? I remember being so shocked when we returned from the Galilee how very close to home we were. And Christmas! Jerusalem is a magical place at Christmas time. This past weekend must have been your Christmas concert. I listened to ours Sunday morning while I was getting ready for church; some of those songs definitely needed work, but I have to admit, we did okay. Sometimes I can't believe I got to perform in Jerusalem on that stage with such a beautiful view of the city.

Photo taken by Angela at JC Christmas Concert 2008.

It's a hard adjustment, the coming back, and this will be an unusual Christmas for you. It's a very strange feeling, the excitement and love for your home and your family combined with the aching homesickness for a place that, four months ago, you knew virtually nothing about. I spent hours three Christmases ago looking at my pictures of the city and facebook stalking my JC family. I was desperate to get back to Provo, despite my dislike for the weather and, well, Provo sometimes, but I so wanted to see all of those people again. The 80 people who, as Becca once said, combined probably know everything there is to know about Allison Mitton.

A few weeks after we got back, Elder Holland gave a devotional at BYU. It was a talk that has become very popular, and I'm sure that you're familiar with it already, but I think you should read it again. It was one of those talks that I felt was written specifically for me, and I know a lot of my Jerusalem friends said the same thing. Moving on is hard, especially from something as special and significant as the semester you just had. But things will keep getting better, and the lessons you learned in Jerusalem will help guide you through the rest of your life. So will your JC family. Make sure to spend time with them often; some of my dearest friends are people I met there. And some of my closest JC friends are people I started spending more time with after we got back. You never know how those relationships will change, but they will get better.

Photo taken at JC cake waffle reunion, November 2011.

Desiree, I'm so glad you got to have this experience, and particularly glad you got to share it with the Skinners. Andrew Skinner is one of the most brilliant, spiritual, humble men I've ever met, and I enjoyed getting to know him both in Jerusalem and in Provo. Keep that connection going, and take some religion classes with him if you can. You certainly won't regret it.

When I came home from Jerusalem, I was so jet lagged and exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and while I was happy to see my family, I felt a little lost because nobody really understood how I was feeling. Desiree, I know how you are feeling. Call me anytime. I would love to hear about everything, and to laugh and cry with you about how your life will never be the same.

Merry Christmas, Desiree.




Love, Allie

Last First

I realized just this morning:

Today is my last first day of school.

First day of kindergarten. I have no memory of the shark backpack, but it's totally rockin.

Well, that might not be entirely true if I ever follow through on the linguistics MA dream, or the JD dream (DON'T TELL GRANDPA NELS), or the PhD in literature and linguistics dream. (How many letters do you have behind your name?) Regardless, it's my last first day in the foreseeable future. And the weird thing is, it's not weird.

I'm sure it will be next September, when instead of planning my schedule around full time work and full time school and setting alarms so I don't forget I have class at 4:00 and have to leave earlier than normal I'll just be heading to an office and that's it. But I'll deal with that then.

Anyway. Off to Magazine Design and Production, looking slightly different than my first first day.

BYU Jerusalem Center, on Mt. Scopus

Dearest Desiree,

By now you should be in Jerusalem, or at least very close to it. I've been thinking about you and the City a lot this week. Funny coincidence that you arrived the same day I did three years ago. I wish I was right there with you. The traveling was exhausting (yours was worse, I'm sure), but when you come over that hill and suddenly see the city—man. Nothing like it.

It takes a couple weeks to acclimate (after Egypt (or Turkey for you), like I said, you'll be totally comfortable with anything Jerusalem throws at you), but at least to me, I felt like I was coming home on the first ride to the Center. And every time we'd come back to the city after a trip somewhere else, I'd feel it again.

One of my favorite parts of the city was the holy sites. And not just the Christian ones, either—I think my favorite place in all of Jerusalem is the Western Wall. Go spend some time there on a Shabbat afternoon. Take your Old Testament and read for a while. One of the best things I ever did.

You will meet some incredible people there. Take the opportunity to ask them questions. We had an amazing conversation with some Orthodox Jewish girls by the Wall one evening. And someday I will tell you the story of the Palestinian man who tried to talk to us about how he read the Book of Mormon. It was the first time I was actually forbidden to talk about the gospel, and it was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had.

I know there's a lot to do and you'll feel like you want to do everything, but take time to go back to the places you loved best. You don't want to feel rushed or obligated to do everything new. Spend time where you want to spend time, and see the things that mean the most to you.

I love you, Desiree, and I'm so incredibly excited that you're on this adventure. The time will fly by, and tomorrow it will be Christmas and you'll wonder why everything around you is so clean. You'll notice the absence of the prayer call at 5:00a.m. You'll be amazed at how many clothing options you have. You'll respond with, "Shukran," when someone hands you something. You'll crave falafel, and pita even more since you ate it at every meal. You'll think of a story you want to share with one of those wonderful eighty people that will know everything about you, and suddenly they won't be right there after four months of constant companionship.

Because this place gets inside your heart, Desiree, and it will never leave you. And for the rest of your life you'll be a little homesick for it.

Love,
Allie