Thanksgiving and Other Thoughts

Rachel has been prodding me to post on our blog for roughly a month now. And I have always steadfastly ignored her, in part because I have been busy, but also because that is the underlying dynamics of our relationship. However, I am no longer busy, and it seems irresponsible to lapse into silence on this blog, which is structured around the dysfunctions of both Rachel and myself.





For my first make-up post, I'd like to return to Thanksgiving. This was the first year I had the chance to actually go home to spend the November holiday with my parents, so I was thrilled weeks ahead (to be honest, I was thrilled with any break from classwork). There was a lot of eating, which seems to be an obligatory component of every family gathering. My cousin, who is currently a PhD candidate in computer science at UTAustin, also came up for the weekend. The last time we spoke was the greater part of a decade ago, and the experience was tinged with much teenage awkwardness. But now, I find in him a wonderful conversationalist, a keen humorist, and a kindred (which is to say, very nerdy) spirit. And the fact that he is a relative -- well, that's like icing on the cake. To really evoke the spirit of Thanksgiving, I have included a painting by Norman Rockwell, the master of classic Americana.

Finally, a list of things for which I am thankful (brought to you by the letter "F"!):

• A family that I know -- even if I know nothing else -- will always be there
• Friendships that continue and friendships that begin
• The financial freedom to indulge in my liberal arts education (though that sense of freedom is set to expire very soon)
• Fortune, for having smiled on me for so long. Despite all my angst, at the end of the day, I know that I am in a privileged position, which is a product of extraordinary luck and my parents' love.

And I hope your holiday was full of warmth and love as well. Cheers!

I'm stupid.

My stupidity and general mental ineptitude are too vast and all-encompassing to write a brief blog post about. I am incapable of not only abstract thought but also the basic requirements of life. I consider myself lucky that my brain hasn't yet forgotten how to operate my vital functions.

In short, Harvard may have finally destroyed my mind and turned me into this:

Knitting project: teddy bear!

For Chanukah this year, in the spirit of frugality and global economic collapse, my sister and I are celebrating Homemade Holidays--trying to give as many homemade presents as possible.

For my mother, who loves teddy bears, I made the "bear necessity" pattern from the Family Circle Easy Toys book. The end result is not at all perfect--I'm still a beginner at seaming and stuffing. (Although my seaming has improved a ton, and my new enormous bag of polyfill fibers makes stuffing much easier!) So the bear is a little... misshapen and stupid-looking. But at the very least, he's a big improvement over my previous attempts.

(I'm still debating whether or not to make him the tiny sweater included in the pattern in the book. What do you think? Does this little guy need a sweater?)

And a bonus--I'm a Secret Santa for someone in my orchestra, and one of my gifts is going to be this slightly freaky little frog. He's meant to sit on your bookshelf with his little legs dangling off!

BurritoQuest 2008

At midnight, some night last week (they all start to blur together in a haze of sleepless misery), I decided that what I needed was a burrito. So I went out to our beloved neighborhood taqueria, the favorite of college students here because it serves delicious Mexican food until 2 A.M. And I documented the process.

Here is my world, on a December midnight:

I live in the Tower. I love looking up and seeing lights on and imagining what sort of people are inside.

Someone decorated a tree in our courtyard with Christmas lights.


Dunster.
The view across the Charles.


An advertising display for Starbucks.
The Garage, home of the cheapest food around.


My favorite! This tree is decorated with lights year round.


Returning home, the halfway-decorated tree in our dining hall.

I'm going to miss this place a lot when I have to leave.

Illness

I am sitting in the dining hall squeezing lemon into hot water like a grandma. I am sick, which I finally realized after I was still burning hot in my room with the windows open. In Boston. In December.

In some ways I become even more unpleasant when I'm sick (hard to believe it's possible, but it's true, I assure you)--I avoid all human contact, sleep at funny hours, totally abandon any pretense at cleaning my room, and generally become an antisocial hermit. More than usual, that is.

But in a weird way, I kind of enjoy being sick, intensely sleep deprived, or both. It gives my humdrum existence a sort of magical, hallucinatory quality that spices up the dullness of the everyday routine. I have long conversations with myself and entertain myself quite nicely.

The novelty is going to wear off awfully soon, though--hence the hot water and lemon juice.