Category Archives: memories

Why Don’t You Kick Yourself Out? You’re An Immigrant, Too

Icky Thump – The White Stripes

Tomorrow, while you’re out binge drinking and making a mockery of an Irish holiday (I’ll be doing the same), I want you to think about how you’re benefitting from the diversity that was brought to this country via immigration.

Unless you’re 100% Native American, some (if not all) of your ancestors have come from somewhere else. And many of them weren’t welcome when they got here for a lot of the same ignorant reasons that are at the root of the Mexican immigration issue.

We’re a country of immigrants and every new group of people that has come to America has added something invaluable… politically, culturally, economically, etc.

I think we need a 2012 immigration policy update. Americans everywhere are already using the Cinco de Mayo holiday as an excuse to get drunk and eat tacos so I find it to be outrageously fucked up that citizenship is so unobtainable to so many Mexicans who want it. It’s like, “Here… let’s bastardize your holiday and also keep you from coming to America. We want your culture but not you.”

Semi-relevant: This border patrol promotional video is so ridiculous that I thought it was fake at first. It’s such messed up propaganda. I saw a border patrol SUV for the first time yesterday and it was unsettling.

My bitterness today is a combination of seeing the border patrol in real life, reading Marisol’s policy thesis on immigration stuff (she’s going to change the world, by the way), and also organizing my old Latin American studies books on the new bookcase (everything came flooding back).

But moving on to happier things because I’m really truly not trying to be Debbie Downer here…

LEHIGH BEAT DUKE!!!! I definitely went through all the steps of an elation-induced collapse. I’m outrageously happy.

Unfortunately, St. Bonaventure didn’t fare so well earlier in the day. They were dominating so awesomely and then somehow lost the game. Bitter heartbreak. Thank goodness Lehigh is helping me to forget that pain.

My dad called me after the Lehigh game was over and he was basically giddy. My dad is kind of emotionally flat normally. But not when it comes to Lehigh beating Duke, I guess.

While I’m on the “let’s look at old pictures” kick… Here’s one of me and Mary on the Lehigh campus back in the day.

We were definitely being baby adults and having some kind of deep intellectual conversation about life. This will forever be one of my favorite pictures of us.

I also associate Lehigh with soccer (and therefore love) in my brain because that’s where my first soccer memories took place.

That ball was a fake though! It was soft and had stuffing inside. We didn’t get a real one until I was like 5. #oldestchildproblems

Also, my hair is super stupid in that picture. I’m glad I get to make my own style decisions now. Everyone wants to be a kid again but I’m quite content being 24.

I’m 3.5 months away from 25! That’s insane. 25 is old.

Turkey Burgers at 8AM

Why not? I mean, if you just got home at 7:30 and you’re hungry and you gotta eat something, turkey burgers seem like a good choice. I’m all about unconventional breakfast food.

I found out last night that sometimes if you’re on a good porch at various locations on the south side slopes on a clear night, you can stargaze pretty well. Winter is so cold but it’s the best stargazing season. There’s really something intoxicating about laying in the snow on a clear winter night in the middle of nowhere when you can see EVERY star in the sky because there’s no hazy humidity. And being outside on a clear winter night is pretty much the coldest you will ever feel but that’s partially why it’s incredible. That feeling paired with the warm feeling that the alcohol you inevitably have to drink while doing this makes you reach some kind of weird transcendent out-of-body state and the stars feel like they’re 2 inches in front of you. It’s a weird sense of clarity for things in all parts of your life and the “important” things become less important because you realize that you’re nothing but paradoxically, you also feel less alone in some larger, “we’re all in this thing together” kind of sense. Especially if you’re stargazing with someone you love who’s important to you. It’s like two or more people in that one moment in that one place somewhere on the edge of the Milky Way galaxy in the Virgo supercluster. Nothing means anything and everything means something all at the same time.

Semi-relevant:

I love Calvin & Hobbes. I think I need to add “loves Calvin and Hobbes” to my boy requisites because I can’t love anyone who doesn’t. I think that’s weirdly one of the reasons why Matt and I lasted so long. He was Calvin for Halloween like a week after we started dating and shit like that just sticks in your head and makes you think that even though it’s hard, it’s worth it. I hate memory. I hate that stuff like that stays with you forever until you die. The last thing I want to think about right now is the good memories.

Chris is randomly back in town. Rachel texted me at like 6:40AM to say that we’re all getting together with her tonight. This is the best surprise of all time and so this day is going by so so slowly. I sincerely miss Chris and Alex all the time and everyday wish that Japan wasn’t so far away. I can’t wait until tonight. Pittsburgh/Baltimore is always an intense good time (provided that we win, of course) and now that Chris is home, it’s going to be the best night of my life.

I also saw Howl’s Moving Castle for the first time yesterday and it really might be my 2nd favorite movie of all time now. As Ed says, “…the story demonstrates multiple lessons about emotional maturity as individuals and society.” Truth. And it blew my Imaginationland mind. It was funny/quirky, it was soothing, it was sad, it was profound. I need to read the book now. And I want to cancel Netflix but I can’t. There’s just too much good stuff out there.

Speaking of good movies, I love November for the Three Rivers Film Fest. I feel like all I ever want to be doing is watching indie movies in the Harris Theater. I look forward to being 32 and coming back to live here forever. It’s definitely time to go though and I’m anxiously counting down the weeks until it’s time to start over in Alabama. The best life skill I have is my inherent ability to pick up and start over and adapt.

It occurred to me then, that perhaps the reason for my growth was I was intended for larger things. After all, a giant man can’t have an ordinary-sized life.
- Big Fish

Also, I found out yesterday that my mom might have lung cancer. That’s kinda terrifying. I guess the fact that she smoked a lot when she was younger and the fact that we kind of have a family history of it don’t make it easier to think about. No point in worrying until we know for sure though.

Life comes at you from all directions. It’s amazing and terrible all at the same time.

Smoke Ring Halo

Disclaimer: I’m too happy for coherency right now. Prepare yourself for lots of half-thoughts.

I saw the Wood Brothers tonight.

They opened with this. They ended on this. And everything in between was the greatest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

Jesus Christ, it was mind-blowingly amazing.

I want to live this night over and over again.

And they were recording for a live album. I love when that happens. FYI, it’s gonna be a great live album.

Anything involving a standup bass and harmonica automatically makes me feel like I’m living the happiest moment of my life.

Julian loved it too.

Stuff white people like #135: Taking their black friends to see white people music.

Good God, look at the list of what’s technically considered “alt-country.”

Based on that list, I guess it’s fair to say that alt-country might be my favorite goddamn genre. Old Crow Medicine Show started it years and years ago. Now it’s taking over like a disease. But only if you could love a disease.

Now it’s so apparent why I need to go south. Native Pennsylvanians don’t make music like that. Tonight was what my Alabama life is going to be like every week. Well, moreso my New Orleans life. Great music 24/7. I could be over-idealizing. There’s only one way to find out!

Ryan was supposed to go tonight but he ended up covering the shift of a coworker who had to go be with his wife while she was in labor.  Ryan is a selflessly good guy. He loves the Wood Brothers more than anything.

All my friends are good people.

And hey, I choose my company
By the beating of their hearts
Not the swelling of their heads
- Saves The Day, My Sweet Fracture

Also, my life soul song officially switched from Young Blood to The Ballad of Scarlet Town. The Naked and Famous had a good long run there. Like 7 months or something. We’ll see what the next phase is like.

After I dropped Julian off, I cruised down Arlington Ave which is amazingly twisty and has a breathtaking view of Pittsburgh all the way down.

I love you, Pittsburgh. Even if you don’t produce my life music. Although, to be fair… without you, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with the Wood Brothers. Three Rivers Arts Fest 2009, anyone?

And I’m so badly gonna miss the Rex Theater. Unparalleled memories.

Can I run and fetch my soul from the Andes and leave it in the Rex Theater before I go?

We Tripped On The Urge To Feel Alive

I think about those days, and I think about a motto etched onto the sleeve of one of those Pavement singles: I AM MADE OF BLUE SKY AND HARD ROCK AND I WILL LIVE THIS WAY FOREVER.
- Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape

One of those ridiculously honest personal accounts that I read 3+ years ago.  Run to the library and pick it up. I think half the book was about Pavement. Amazing band. My 16 year old self would have died without them. Anyway, I’ve never encountered a sentence that described my soul so freaking well. And of course it’s in the sleeve of a Pavement single. How could a sentence of that magnitude be anywhere else?

Somehow, I got away from that for awhile. But I’m back. My old self/soul are being ripped from the depths and they’re flowing into the world at an outrageous pace. I’m healing and moving on so much faster than I ever thought possible. It feels crazy. I feel weird. It’s like the Big Bang. Even my bones feel alive. It’s psychological AND somatic, I swear.

I’m having a Henry Miller-esque spiritual awakening.

The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.
- Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn

The weather was incredible. I painted. I got stuff done. I read on the porch swing. I went to Portuguese class. I started the process of becoming an ACLU volunteer. I listened to the Felice Brothers. Their self-titled album will kill you. It will make you too happy to live.

Please don’t you ever die
you ever die
you ever die
You moved me all of my life
all of my life
all of my life
Hum our radio songs
radio song
radio song
after every radio’s gone
radio’s gone
radio’s gone

One of the best choruses of all time.

And it makes me think of this quote (also from Love is a Mix Tape)…

…and sometimes I think, man, all the people I get to hear this song with, we’re going to miss each other when we die. When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.

That is absolutely true. Your soul turns into songs.

Your body breaks down to chemical elements though. Your atoms get taken up into something else and you spread out forever and ever through organisms and geology and time. Science is soothing. I like knowing that there’s nothing more than just the physical circle of life. And we used to be stars. I hope you know that. All of our atoms were formed inside stars. I like knowing that I’m a tremendously small little fraction of recycled star matter.

Anyway, that quote up there makes me think of this quote down here. Always. And it’s pertinent to yesterday’s post also.

I thought to myself that in the palm of my hand, there was this one tape that had all of these memories and feelings and great joy and sadness.  Right there in the palm of my hand.  And I thought about how many people have loved those songs.  And how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs.  And how many people enjoyed good times with those songs.  And how much those songs really mean.
- The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

Not only are songs the primary medium for the safe keeping of souls, but they hang on to memories, feelings, joy, and sadness. Their like the Bank of Transcendence. Easier to deposit than withdraw though. Which is the opposite of a real bank.

And then that quote up there makes me think of this one down here. Which is also relevant to that post from two days ago.

“Yes,” Judith said. “Or destroy it. As you like. Read it if you like or don’t read it if you like. Because you make so little impression, you see. You get born and you try this and you don’t know why only you keep on trying it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people, all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way like five or six people all trying to make a rug on the same loom only each one wants to weave his own pattern into the rug; and it cant matter, you know that, or the Ones that set up the loom would have arranged things a little better, and yet it must matter because you keep on trying or having to keep on trying and then all of a sudden it’s all over and all you have left is a block of stone with scratches on it provided there was someone to remember to have the marble scratched and set up or had time to, and it rains on it and the sun shines on it and after a while they don’t even remember the name and what the scratches were trying to tell, and it doesn’t matter. And so maybe if you could go to someone, the stranger the better, and give them something–a scrap of paper–something, anything, it not to mean anything in itself and them not even to read it or keep it, not even bother to throw it away or destroy it, at least it would be something just because it would have happened, be remembered even if only from passing from one hand to another, one mind to another, and it would be at least a scratch, something, something that might make a mark on something that was once for the reason that it can die someday, while the block of stone can’t be is because it never can become was because it cant ever die or perish…”
- William Faulkner, Absalom! Absalom!

Crap, I think I got off topic again. A one second snapshot of my brain would contain approximately one million different things. The original point of this whole thing is that it feels good to be alive. In every way. Not get sidetracked with depressing Faulkner stuff.

Today felt like the first day of my life. It’s weird when you start to grasp concrete parts of yourself. Like you really understand some things about yourself and who you need to be and what you need to be doing.

I guess I just assumed that everyone feels lost their whole lives. People really do grow up and grow into themselves. I wonder what it’s like to be 90. I kind of can’t wait to find out. Not that I want to rush to the end. But it will be awesome to look back at the ghosts/echoes of my previous selves. Maybe I’ll change a lot. I’m not sure.

What I know for certain is that I AM MADE OF BLUE SKY AND HARD ROCK AND I WILL LIVE THIS WAY FOREVER and that all the different shades of who I’ve been will share at least that one thing in common.

Why Guys Shouldn’t Buy Drinks (Or Anything) For Girls

True story. Last night, Desi and I went to Hough’s alone for the Steelers game as a result of that whole being excluded from a lot of stuff now thing. Still, we were having a damn good time. We pregamed with whiskey gingers at my house then ate some quesadilla burgers and drank Southern Tier Pumpking at the bar. Could not have been happier. Steelers + whiskey + good beer + best friend = perfect Sunday night. I think that kind of makes us old men. Oh well. Around half-time, the bartender comes over and says that some guys across the bar bought us drinks. How nice. NOT.

They effectively ruined my enjoyment of the game and whole night. Basically, as soon as we were notified of said drinks, they came over and were the most unattractive, unintelligent, unamusing guys I’ve ever met. Not only that, but because they bought us a drink, I felt obligated to talk to them. I was obviously nowhere near interested. But they just kept talking and talking perhaps thinking that they were doing well. What happened was I couldn’t watch the game because these guys were bugging the crap out of me and they stayed there ’til the end apparently not getting the hint. Somewhere in there they bought us another drink (kind of against our will actually) still trying to win us over, I guess.

Anyway, I automatically resent anything that comes between me and Steelers football. I’m sitting there being a little Polamalu in my jersey and literally living and dying by what’s happening on the TV and this guy thinks it’s a good idea to come over and talk my ear off about stupid stuff like how he’s signed the wrong form at AIP where he used to go to school and is now $4000 in debt because of it (seriously?) and also about how likes “90s music” like Lifehouse. God, help us. Lifehouse is terrible. And also NOT FROM THE 90s. But this kid seemed to think that their first single came out in 1998. Anyway, he’s talking about all this crap thinking that we’re hitting it off or something when I’m sending CLEAR signals about how uninterested I am and getting more irritated that this close game is being interrupted by some guy who even explicitly stated that he’s not that interested in football. Ok, fine. You don’t have to like it but stop ruining my enjoyment of it because I actually do like it.

After the game was over, Desi and I went to peace out ASAP. I mean, I did have to work at 7:30 this morning anyway. Then this guy called me out for texting a lot during our conversation and about the fact that we were leaving and not having a victory beer with them. For real, bro? THEN he said he hopes to see us next week because he “watches” the Steelers game there every week. Uhhh, not happening. Now I can never go back to Hough’s for a Steelers game. Thanks for ruining my favorite thing ever, douche with no social skills. Also, accusing me of not paying enough attention to you is needy/pathetic.

Tangent: Hough’s is becoming more and more ruined which sucks because it really is my favorite bar. Reasons:
1) The crowd seems to be getting older in terms of available men. They all seem to be married.
2) I’ve met a decent amount of guys there so a lot of times when I go back, it’s awkward to see the ones I’ve been out with (and weren’t really into) while I’m on a date with another one. During every moment of singleness in my life over the last few years, I’ve just gone and sat there alone then reliably within 30 minutes (max), a guy comes over and we have a good time. But now I think I’ve exhausted that as a resource. And it’s weird/messy now.
3) It’s where I make pretty much every non-Hough’s guy I meet go on a first date with me. I suggest it and they love it and we have a good time… but again, awkwardness for the same reasons as above. And also, because I feel bad. It makes me feel like Hough’s is some kind of first date assembly line where I lure them in and push them out when I’m done with them and then I get weird about maybe how possibly insincere I’m being because they have no idea that many guys have been there in that spot with me before. I realized this especially when I was there with a guy I actually did like because that felt more significant/special than something that should have happened where I’d been with tons of guys before. No more first dates at Hough’s. It’s decided.
4) It was our Cheers bar back in the day when everything was good between Matt and I and we all went regularly as a group and made lovely memories but now it’s kind of bittersweet and sometimes actually painful to be there because nothing is what it used to be. I’m really more upset about losing the group dynamic than losing Matt.
5) Their specials aren’t as good now that it’s a super popular spot. And it’s reliably crowded. Like sometimes you can’t get a seat. There used to be weeknights when we’d be the only ones in there.

But, ok… back to the real point of this post. Why guys shouldn’t buy drinks (or anything else) for girls.
1)  It makes us feel obligated to talk to you. And maybe you think “Oh, if I can just get her to talk to me…” No. Mostly we’re just annoyed that we have to waste our time doing that unless you’re amazing. If we’re out doing our thing and we don’t make eye contact with you at all the whole night or acknowledge that you’re at the bar or even know that you’re at the bar, don’t waste your time/money. Talk to us first then go from there. What if I had a boyfriend? You would have wasted $4-$8 before you could even find out.
2) Guys who are amazing don’t buy girls drinks. Because:
a) they don’t have to because they’re hot and/or smart and/or funny and/or interesting
b) they know it’s a waste of money because that’s just common sense
3) Related to #2, guys who are way less than awesome buy girls drinks because they have no other way to get them so buying us drinks automatically makes you seem incompetent because that’s what you’re associated with instantly
4) Bitches will take advantage of your drink buying inclination and pump you for them then leave without giving you a number or going home with you or promising to go on a date with you

It’s one thing to start talking to a girl, hit it off, have a pretty good feeling that she’s into you, and then offer to buy her a drink in a casual way. Like “Here, let me get the next one” or something. That’s a nice guy gesture. Not a socially incompetent creeper gesture.

10,000x more successful and cost effective… ”Hi, my name is _____. [Insert something about how you think we're cute]” then follow up with absolutely any conversation starter.

Easy.

Personally, I hate when guys buy me anything in general. It’s unnecessary and almost unappreciated. It freaks me out. Maybe it’s the walls, maybe it’s the independence. Maybe it’s just easier to get to know someone when no one owes anyone anything. Paying for my stuff just takes it to a whole other level. Like a boyfriend level. You don’t have to act like a boyfriend on the 4th date. It’s too much.

I guess I just feel like when they pay for something, it immediately rips away my freedom and the cloud of obligation comes and hangs over my head and I feel tense and I don’t know why. Perhaps I need to man the fuck up and just accept this graciously and not feel bad if it doesn’t work out because they’re the ones who foolishly spend the money and that’s not my problem. But that sentiment sounds equally as hostile as being hostile about the fact that they always try to pay. I also don’t understand why guys are always like “I hate paying for girls because they use me” BUT THEN THEY ALWAYS DO IT. Seriously. I can’t even wrap my brain around this issue and I have no way how I should feel about it or how I should deal with it or how I should react to it. Sigh.

Don’t Be A Halloweenie

(Hopping back onto the blog train. Summer is too busy and euphoric. It’s true that if we were incessantly happy all the time, we wouldn’t need to think about things or create things or invest time in things. I was perfectly happy just to eat burgers and swim and lay outside and never once felt compelled to write anything. Now it’s starting to get gloomy and cold and I suppose I should pick back up again to fill the void.)

Halloweekened 2010 is upon us. For some, it’s just an excuse to party and they arrive to the events dressed as sexy nurses or standard zombies and drink a lot of beer. For others, it’s a reason to be something else and we employ our limited creativity skills to take risks and see what we can make with our imaginations. If you want to be a sexy witch because you just don’t care that much about Halloween, then that’s perfectly fine because I definitely follow a policy of  “to each their own” for the most part. However, if you always arrive as a ghost just because you’re lazy or feel like you can’t think of anything good or have worries about how a costume will turn out, I encourage you to try something a little more outside the box next year (or this year if you have some time to pull something together tomorrow). It doesn’t have to be your life’s magnum opus in terms of excecution and it doesn’t even have to be that creative of an idea. But it will likely be something that no one else has ever done (or done the way you did it) and it probably will be some kind of tangible extension of yourself, even if that aspect is unintentional.

I’m not telling you to completely regress into your childish ways and show up as a princess or anything (unless you want to!), but think back to what Halloween was like when you were a kid. No one ever thought “Oh, yeah. I’ll just be a skeleton. That’s cool.” You actually picked what you wanted to be and got excited about it. Even if you changed your mind 10 times, you always said to your mom, “I want to be an alien this year,” or something similar. It didn’t have to be an original idea or anything crazy/elaborate. But you legitimately invested time into selecting what you wanted to wear for your classroom party. It was never like you had a cowboy hat laying around and decided you’d put that on 2 hours before school started. Obviously, some kids didn’t get to pick. Sometimes they had to wear a hand-me-down from an older sibling or had to use whatever was laying around at the house or whatever their parents bought for them at the store. Please call me out if I’m wrong, but it seems that those situations really only happened because the kids had no choice as dictated by their parents’ time resources and/or financial resources and/or lack of interest. If that was you, make up for it now that you’re an adult and can do whatever you want. If that wasn’t you, remember what Halloween used to be and get back into it.

Maybe my reality is distorted here. It’s possible that not everyone had an awesome mom like mine. She  is directly responsible for inspiring my Halloween passion. The slight irony here is that my parents were slightly apprehensive about some Halloween costumes and traditions due to their religious beliefs. We weren’t allowed to dress as witches or ghosts and some activities were ruled out. Maybe it’s not that ironic if you attribute our creative costumes to the fact that we weren’t allowed to dress up as those Halloween staples. Whatever the reason, my mom went all out. She certainly has a passion for sewing and maybe Halloween for her served as an outlet for that interest. And of course, I’m sure it helped that she knew she was making the happiest Halloween kids ever. I definitely threw some fits regarding her creative direction versus mine, but as an adult, I really only have the utmost appreciation for her effort. We had a dalmatian growing up and one year I wanted to be Rascal so she made me an awesome dalmatian costume. When Episode 1 came out, my sister wanted to be Queen Amidala so my mom made  a crazy hair piece out of fabric and sturdy wire to look like this. Obviously, you could tell that it was very homemade, but the fact that it was homemade actually made it more awesome. I mean, kids always want their costumes to look as real as possible and would rather have an awesome costume from a store than one their mom made, but as an adult, I totally appreciate that homemade quality.

Even has a senior in highschool when I wanted to return to the Halloween tradition after a long absence and asked for the best pink tutu in existence so I could be the most over-the-top dead ballerina ever, she once again took to the machine and I was in tulle heaven. Of course, I contributed with a black bow around my waste and gothic eye makeup and sprayed/destroyed black-ish hair, but it wouldn’t have been anything without that skirt.

The people who truly embrace Halloween inspire me to do the same and the magnificent result is a party full of characters and interesting costumes and the mix of all of that leads to an event that would be fun even without the keg. Even if all you do is throw on a banana suit, really try to embrace that banana. Don’t be a weenie. A costume doesn’t have to cost a lot or take a lot of time, but if it’s ridiculous and/or you really love it, then you’re a Halloween champion for the ages. In 10 years, you’ll look back at the pictures of you and everyone else and think “That was a damn good Halloween.”

Here are some pictures of costumes from Halloween 2008 and 2009. They’re delightful and I love my friends and their personalities and creativity. Even if you buy a costume that someone else thought up or if your costume won’t make sense to anybody… as long as you think it’s awesome then it’s awesome.

Ed is always something horribly inappropriate like a member of the KKK or a slave because that’s just Ed. In 2008, Julia dressed up as M.I.A. and was a very effective one all night until she put on the banana suit then added PC’s jacket to go over it thereby creating a second costume. And how can one not appreciate the originality of going as a baby mama or hot gluing cotton balls to a sweatsuit in order to be Little Bo Peep’s sheep and thereby enduring severe temperatures all night but having a couple’s costume that everyone loves. Duffman was impeccably executed and Calvin actually went to Toys ‘R’ Us to purchase a Hobbes. All of those and so many others are better than the standard skeleton/school girl. And if you really want to be those things, then go for it. But if it’s just a cop out, consider taking a risk and think of something else then make it happen.

It doesn’t really take a lot to make it happen. You can very affordably come up with something without spending a lot of time. Go to Goodwill and buy some stuff and make it work. For my 2008 astronaut costume, I paper mached a helmet using a balloon as the form and then spray painted it. That took all of 3 hours over the course of a week. Then I put on Under Armour, a white skirt, ridiculous winter moonboots, and a down vest. All of which I already had. Matt’s Calvin costume involved spraying his hair light yellow, buying a tiger, putting black stripes on a red t-shirt, and wearing shorts/shoes that he already had. Rob went as Mr. Clean and shaved his head, put on a white t-shirt and jeans, then painted his eyebrows white. Last year, Des put on a dress she bought for New Years and painted her face to look like a doll to become a coin-operated girl. Eli wore a wife beater, dress pants, suspenders, and yogurt lids he had saved to be “the bear Jew” from Inglourious Basterds. And if you have the time/creativity, then push boundaries to make something insanely impressive. Mike’s Duffman costume was unbelievably legit.

To end on a personal note, this year I was going to skip Halloween because my sister’s senior recital is this weekend. However, life messes are unpredictable and I have to stay to take care of some things. But there’s no way I’m missing Halloween if I’m going to be here. So, I have to come up with something fast. I’ll post a short update next week to prove that Halloween can be 10x more awesome than it would be if you hadn’t tried, even with a limited time/money budget. As long as there’ s will, there’s a way.  Don’t be a Halloweenie. Take a risk and try something new. It’s your chance to be something you’ve always wanted to be. Make a real impression. Even if no one remembers what you were 2 years later, you’ll at least get their attention for that one night.

Pocket-Sized Inflatable Houses Should Be A Thing Of The Future So We Can Take Them With Us If We Want

I can’t say for certain, because I am not actually at the end of my life, but I think that when we’re at the end of our lives, we’ll be a conglomeration of all the places we’ve lived and all the people we’ve known.

People and places and milestones become tied together in the timeline of our lives. Often changes and milestones are associated with leaving people and places and encountering new ones. And for most of these changes, it’s hard to determine whether they’re good or bad. Even if what you’re gaining is positive, you’re also losing something significant in the process.

I love Alfred, NY. Honestly, it’s utopic. The weather sucks and there’s nothing to do, but sometimes a cool July and peace/quiet are everything you need.

I came home this weekend for the senior art shows and because I miss my brother and my puppy every day. And because I need to regroup and get back on my feet. Sometimes home is really the only place you can do that. It’s so safe here. Everything is familiar and comforting so the only thing you have to deal with is whatever you’re dealing with and at that point, you can begin to sort things out. I kind of blogged about this briefly last summer (http://bettermakeitfast.blogspot.com/2009/07/sound-of-door-opening-and-slamming.html).

There are so many quotes about how home is wherever you’re most comfortable or that it’s the people that make home what it is and it has nothing to do with the place.

I think it has everything to do with the place. I am SO attached to these 1.5 acres that the thought of having to let all this go and not have this house to come back to feels catastrophic. Of course, the people make the memories, but it’s the house that the memories were made in and it’s the house that’s always here.

Last night my mom and dad said they were putting the house up for sale. They’re making career changes, we’ve all moved on past the highschool stage in our lives, and if someone wants to buy the house, it makes sense for them to sell it while they can.

I’m calm here. I grew up here. There are so many memories that you associate with a place when it’s been your home for 15 years. My siblings and I probably know the woods behind our house better than anyone would ever care to. We’ve played with three dogs and countless kids in the yard. We’ve had summer adventures and winter adventures and outdoor adventures and indoor adventures and countless Christmases and birthdays and victories and tragedies. This room has been MY room for 15 years. Our parents built this house for us. We saw it grow from being a hole in the ground to being a well worn-in home in need of fresh paint, new carpeting, and a working oven in the kitchen. For a few years now, we’ve had to cook the Christmas turkey on the old stove that sits in the laundry room because my parents haven’t felt that their budget allows for a new one for the kitchen. Things like that happen when you try to put three kids through college at once.

My room is at the back of the house, on a corner. There are three windows. I have a 180 degree view of peace. My sister and I used to share this room. I remember what it looked like with our twin beds side by side and then how it looked with the bunk beds and then how it looked with my double bed and now I’m back to the twin bed I started with since I took the double bed to my first and second apartments.

I love its state of disarray. My bedrooms will likely always be in that state until I get married and have reason to keep it maintained. I’m clean, but my bedroom is where I leave all order and reason at the door and crash in the world of chaos and relaxation. This room, in particular, has always been my safe place. And my chaotic place.

But I know that this house and the 1.5 acres that it sits on was made for kids. And the family that’s potentially going to buy it has four of them. They’ll form their own memories and do their own growing up here. If we have to sell it, if I can’t have this place to retreat to forever, then I want to be able to pass it along to someone who will have the opportunity to know it and love it like I did. I hope they uncover our path in the woods that’s lined with rocks that leads to the fort. And I hope they climb up the climbing tree. And I hope they send messages up and down the laundry chute. And I hope they build mud castles along the ditch. And I hope their parents plant apple trees in what was supposed to be our little apple orchard that never panned out. I think only one tree is left.

I’ve been very happy in Pittsburgh and I will be very happy in all the places I go to in my future, but Alfred will always be where I felt the safest (not necessarily the happiest, but the safest) and this house is a huge part of that.

My parents are going to retire to my mom’s family farm in their hometown of Punxsutawney. Western PA is where all the extended family is, for the most part, and that’s where they did most of their growing up.

There’s no family here in WNY. This house and this land will leave the family. I don’t get to have the same opportunity they do. Most people don’t have that. Once your childhood home is gone, it’s gone. And that’s just how it is. But I think that for the rest of my life, part of me will always wish that I could come back.

I’m a rambly blogger. I apologize. Maybe sometime soon I’ll just blog about why Alfred, as a town/community, is awesome. If it was a vacation destination, I’d be its best champion.