Fridays, despite the presence of only one class (and that a 50 minute lecture), continue to be my busiest day. After said class I ate lunch and chipped away at the hulking Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates (excellent but long and due to be read by Monday) before going to a meeting for GetSET, the organization for which we volunteered during CA. During the school year a group goes and works at the church after school on Fridays, so a handful of my CA group and others plan to go starting next week (or the week after, depending on the excitement Parent's Weekend will bring).
From there I hightailed over to the Mothership of the Arts to hear readings by Colm Toibin and Anne Enright. Paul Muldoon introduced them and gave a general picture of the Fund for Irish Studies Lecture Series, of which this was the second. He lingered over the tantalizing title of the December 7th lecture, "Irish Decadence."
"Oxymoron," offered Colm Toibin.
And we were off, on a rollicking afternoon of two excellent readings (Colm Toibin's featured Ennis and the County Clare. Yay!) and many excellent answers to so-so audience questions. When asked how the Celtic Tiger was changing Irish writing, both of the authors agreed that it wasn't so much encouraging more joyful topics in writing, but giving Irish writers the funding to write even more about misery. "There's a whole swath across the northern hemisphere that's deeply troubled and writes great stuff," said Colm Toibin. "You can draw a line."
I've been saying that for years. :)
Anne Enright talked about how the arts in Ireland are facing a low point since no artists can afford to live in Dublin anymore. Instead they live, "in the middle of nowhere." Tell that to the folks in Walden, Co.
Dinner came next (where I ate a salad and slipped two slices of pizza into a bag for later) and after dinner Roommate J and I returned to badminton to discover we were expected to pay ten dollar dues. We batted a birdie around for a while and then sneaked out, never to return, commiserating that our parents genes manifest in us in alternating periods of joyous spending on excellent products and a cheapskatedness that steals plastic cutlery from dining halls and doesn't buy water when in need of it because there's probably a water fountain somewhere. This was a cheapskate day for both of us, so we probably won't be headed back to badminton.
Being Friday, I purchased a root beer from the basement vending machine, unwrapped my purloined pizza slices, and settled down to watch a movie before heading out again with Roommate J to knit hats (or in the case of many, scarves) for the homeless. This was conducted in the rockin' underground cafe on campus that has great ambiance and is often 20 degrees warmer than the outside temperature. The time sailed by and we walked home at midnight with yarn-blisters and a sense of artsy contentment.
This morning.
Oh, this morning.
Following a recommendation from the parents, I took a bike ride to Kingston to a bakery that was "like the HometownBakery" where we ordinarily have breakfast on Saturday mornings. The distance was "bikeable," and Dad even sent be a helpful map with a route mapped out. I set out full of hope and an hour later arrived in Kingston, having walked my bike for the last 1/8 of a mile up a steep sidewalk-less US highway, calf muscles sore and badly in need of a pain au chocolat.
"What can I get for you?" asked the nice man behind the counter.
I couldn't see around the large woman in front of me to peruse the offerings, but I knew what I wanted and there was no bakery on earth that didn't sell them, so I said confidently, "I'll have a chocolate croissant, please."
"I'm sorry," the man said. "We don't sell them. Never have."
Make that no bakery on earth minus ONE.
"Oh," I said. "That's unfortunate."
He must have seen a look of desperation or downright maniacal calculation in my face, for he amended hurriedly, "But you know what we can do? I can slice a plain one in half and put chocolate sauce in the middle. Our chocolate sauce is to die for."
I thought of my mom, whose chocolate sauce is indisputably the best and who can't stand the phrase, "to die for." "That would be great," I said, almost bursting into miles-of-beautiful-towpath-induced tears.
Soon he procured it for me and I bought an apple juice and went out to sit with my bike and eat. He was right. It tasted delicious, and much like a normal chocolate croissant (except for the fact that he must have put half a cup of chocolate inside, but I'm not one to complain about that).
I finished up and as I was unlocking my bike, two older women walked by me, discussing one of the books we're about to read in English.
"It's the book Stephen Crane would have written..."
"If he didn't write Maggie?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Hotel de Dream by Edmund White!" I felt like yelling, knowledgeably.
But instead I turned my bike around and rode back, leisurely and with a stomach full of chocolate.
Good chocolate.
Still, I have a feeling I'll stick with the Princeton stuff next week.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Last night I got my sports on, playing intramural volleyball for my residential college. I signed up with CC, but at the last minute she revealed the existence of a math study hall type thingy that I could not as easily use for an excuse to not go to the game (since I, oh lucky one, am not taking math this semester). So I went, alone, and had a great time playing with upperclassman boys, a girl with a nametag on (I would seriously consider adopting this practice, were it not for the fact that it made her look like a crazy person and would probably do the same for me), and another freshman girl whose excellent skills belied her statement that she had only played twice before.
The level of play was perfect for me, since I haven't played competitively since seventh grade (when I was a wonder. Seriously. I was really good) and I still can't overhand serve.
I toddled home late enough to be considered cool, but still early enough to take a shower and be in bed before my roommates. Yes! My record is unchallenged! (I also sleep later than them. Hmmm.)
A word on my professors: they're so cool. There's the French teacher who reminds me of Mom's colleagues and wears the cool glasses the French seem to be handed at birth, along with artsy sweater sets and a sense of irony. There's the English professor, who happens to also be an English professor, who is contributing to my own personal dogma with his thought-provoking statements on the nature of fiction. There's the English TA, who's actually an Irish TA and wore green on the first day of class (tee hee). There's the creative writing teacher who's ethereal and therefore surprises you with the earthiness of her comments. There's the biology team teaching group: the winner of the genius award who laughs maniacally through the lectures and explains everything perfect, her colleague who literally leaps around the podium, such is his excitement about all things genetic, and the director of the lab portion who's perfectly nice but seems totally dry compared to the other two.
Utterly great.
The level of play was perfect for me, since I haven't played competitively since seventh grade (when I was a wonder. Seriously. I was really good) and I still can't overhand serve.
I toddled home late enough to be considered cool, but still early enough to take a shower and be in bed before my roommates. Yes! My record is unchallenged! (I also sleep later than them. Hmmm.)
A word on my professors: they're so cool. There's the French teacher who reminds me of Mom's colleagues and wears the cool glasses the French seem to be handed at birth, along with artsy sweater sets and a sense of irony. There's the English professor, who happens to also be an English professor, who is contributing to my own personal dogma with his thought-provoking statements on the nature of fiction. There's the English TA, who's actually an Irish TA and wore green on the first day of class (tee hee). There's the creative writing teacher who's ethereal and therefore surprises you with the earthiness of her comments. There's the biology team teaching group: the winner of the genius award who laughs maniacally through the lectures and explains everything perfect, her colleague who literally leaps around the podium, such is his excitement about all things genetic, and the director of the lab portion who's perfectly nice but seems totally dry compared to the other two.
Utterly great.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Lawnparties were fun. We got to see The Fold (from Chicago) perform at the Quadrangle Club, which was good but loud. I sneaked out early to go to church, feeling very stealthy and enigmatic -- or at least as stealthy and enigmatic as you can be while squeezing through five hundred people and trying to avoid the drunk (or possibly just awesome) guy who gave you a tight hug a half an hour before when you purchased a t-shirt for charity -- as I did so.
iChatting with Subcontinent was also fun, but we got a little maudlin, much to the alarm of my roommates and (doubtless) the people wandering through the common area she was using for a study hall.
iChatting with Subcontinent was also fun, but we got a little maudlin, much to the alarm of my roommates and (doubtless) the people wandering through the common area she was using for a study hall.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The audition was so fast. Walked in. Found monologues on the floor. Picked two. Read them. Read them aloud. Walked out. End of story.
We'll see. There are so few female roles and I'm only a freshman, but it was a good experience to have had.
In other drama news, tonight I saw The Violet Hour. It was written by a Princeton alumnus and was pretty much awesome, with veiled references to F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and Josephine Baker. It was comedic and dramatic (MY FAVORITE) and had great timing. Some parts were slow, and the guy who I shanghaied to come with me at the last moment wasn't much of a theater person, but it was a good play and I'll be in bed earlier than usual tonight. Yay!
Hunting for the chocolate croissant this morning was a mixed experience. On the one hand, it was raining so my biking to a slightly farther away bakery was foiled. On the other hand, I got to check out another bakery, where they serve pain au chocolat, and walked home with it in the rain. It was a romantic college moment.
We'll see. There are so few female roles and I'm only a freshman, but it was a good experience to have had.
In other drama news, tonight I saw The Violet Hour. It was written by a Princeton alumnus and was pretty much awesome, with veiled references to F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and Josephine Baker. It was comedic and dramatic (MY FAVORITE) and had great timing. Some parts were slow, and the guy who I shanghaied to come with me at the last moment wasn't much of a theater person, but it was a good play and I'll be in bed earlier than usual tonight. Yay!
Hunting for the chocolate croissant this morning was a mixed experience. On the one hand, it was raining so my biking to a slightly farther away bakery was foiled. On the other hand, I got to check out another bakery, where they serve pain au chocolat, and walked home with it in the rain. It was a romantic college moment.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Last night was my most nocturnal college night so far. It really is true that the weekend starts on Thursday here. There were so many events scheduled all at the same time that it was difficult to choose. I wound up going to a free 11 PM showing of 3:10 to Yuma and got home around 1:30. Luckily my earliest class this morning was at eleven.
The movie is excellent. I highly recommend it to anyone. Russel Crowe continues to impress, Christian Bale got to brood some more, Alan Tudyk is adorable as always and Ben Foster is totally insane.
After my one class I stopped and wrote a bit in a shady garden area before heading back to the dorm to do my weekend homework (and nip it in the bud, so to speak). That went well and I was only slightly distracted by the copious amounts of Bergers cookies under my bed. :)
I headed over to the library in the late afternoon to check out some screenplays and came away with those for Four Weddings and a Funeral and Gosford Park, both in my top five. So far it's really interesting to see what lines were ad-libbed and what lines were not (often the opposite of what I assumed; I guess the acting really is good).
Then came dinner (there was some sort of seafood thing which came with really good (not just dorm food good) potato slices and badminton, which Roommate J and I decided to try out on a whim. It was great and reminded me of a lot of my friends at Damn-Big-Midwestern-University High. They were also often athletic and always intense.
Following badminton I showered the effort off and headed out to see the Improv Comedy show with HSClassmate and her hall mates. It was really funny and good laughs were had by all.
On the Horizon for This Weekend:
Buying a chocolate croissant
Audition for The Skin of Our Teeth tomorrow = yikes!
iChatting with Subcontinent
Lawnparties with good bands (and, thus, my first, necessarily broad daylight experience with The Street)
Church
In that order.
The movie is excellent. I highly recommend it to anyone. Russel Crowe continues to impress, Christian Bale got to brood some more, Alan Tudyk is adorable as always and Ben Foster is totally insane.
After my one class I stopped and wrote a bit in a shady garden area before heading back to the dorm to do my weekend homework (and nip it in the bud, so to speak). That went well and I was only slightly distracted by the copious amounts of Bergers cookies under my bed. :)
I headed over to the library in the late afternoon to check out some screenplays and came away with those for Four Weddings and a Funeral and Gosford Park, both in my top five. So far it's really interesting to see what lines were ad-libbed and what lines were not (often the opposite of what I assumed; I guess the acting really is good).
Then came dinner (there was some sort of seafood thing which came with really good (not just dorm food good) potato slices and badminton, which Roommate J and I decided to try out on a whim. It was great and reminded me of a lot of my friends at Damn-Big-Midwestern-University High. They were also often athletic and always intense.
Following badminton I showered the effort off and headed out to see the Improv Comedy show with HSClassmate and her hall mates. It was really funny and good laughs were had by all.
On the Horizon for This Weekend:
Buying a chocolate croissant
Audition for The Skin of Our Teeth tomorrow = yikes!
iChatting with Subcontinent
Lawnparties with good bands (and, thus, my first, necessarily broad daylight experience with The Street)
Church
In that order.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
I feel like I've finally found myself. People do that at college, right? :)
My pirate name is:
Mad Jenny Bonney
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network
My pirate name is:
Mad Jenny Bonney
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network
Classes continue to go well. English class today inspired me to write my own personal philosophy down. It would be a manifesto of sorts I guess, except more flexible and adaptable. The professor teaching that class is so great. I find myself taking a lot of notes, not because I think I need to know things for exams, but because what he's saying is so interesting and so often true.
French 221 yesterday was good. (<-- I almost typo-d, "god." Hmm. Intriguing.) It was taught in French, of course, and I can already tell that I'm in the middle of the class, skill-wise, which is perfect. I can learn but not be overwhelmed.
Then bio lab, where I found a competent but not too insanely smart to follow lab partner within the first two minutes of class. I happened to be wearing some of my evil eye bracelets when she commented that she had the same ones. Apparently both of us were brought them by friends from Istanbul. This, of course, meant that in the freshman week tradition we must be best buddies for life...or at least long enough to not be standing awkwardly around while the grad student told us to pair up.
Yesterday evening was the Student Volunteers Council (the organization that headed up CA) open house so I went and signed up for a couple mailing lists, including the one for returning to our church in Trenton every Friday and helping out little kids. Yay!
Directly following that I headed over to the package mail room and picked up a care package from home (thanks Mom & Dad!) and then rushed back to the dorm to change for the Master's dinner. We were all invited for dinner at Master of the College Awesome's house (really close to campus and leased to him during his rotation). It was great to be in a house again (it didn't matter that it wasn't mine) and the food was catered by a local (and quite good) catering service. Master Awesome was...awesome and hilarious as always and regaled us with anecdotes of his colleagues (one, upon hearing about the new house said, "Aren't you afraid it's so big that it will amplify your loneliness?")
Today I was done with classes by noon -- I love college life -- and went for another bike ride / reading fest on the tow path. I rode farther this time so my abs are a little tender but I'm feeling more as if the school year has started. What's class without a little physical pain?
French 221 yesterday was good. (<-- I almost typo-d, "god." Hmm. Intriguing.) It was taught in French, of course, and I can already tell that I'm in the middle of the class, skill-wise, which is perfect. I can learn but not be overwhelmed.
Then bio lab, where I found a competent but not too insanely smart to follow lab partner within the first two minutes of class. I happened to be wearing some of my evil eye bracelets when she commented that she had the same ones. Apparently both of us were brought them by friends from Istanbul. This, of course, meant that in the freshman week tradition we must be best buddies for life...or at least long enough to not be standing awkwardly around while the grad student told us to pair up.
Yesterday evening was the Student Volunteers Council (the organization that headed up CA) open house so I went and signed up for a couple mailing lists, including the one for returning to our church in Trenton every Friday and helping out little kids. Yay!
Directly following that I headed over to the package mail room and picked up a care package from home (thanks Mom & Dad!) and then rushed back to the dorm to change for the Master's dinner. We were all invited for dinner at Master of the College Awesome's house (really close to campus and leased to him during his rotation). It was great to be in a house again (it didn't matter that it wasn't mine) and the food was catered by a local (and quite good) catering service. Master Awesome was...awesome and hilarious as always and regaled us with anecdotes of his colleagues (one, upon hearing about the new house said, "Aren't you afraid it's so big that it will amplify your loneliness?")
Today I was done with classes by noon -- I love college life -- and went for another bike ride / reading fest on the tow path. I rode farther this time so my abs are a little tender but I'm feeling more as if the school year has started. What's class without a little physical pain?
Monday, September 17, 2007
My classes today were great. I still have French tomorrow to test out, but for now I feel safe saying that I'm happy with my course load this semester.
Last night I went to the Theater Intime open house. Theater Intime is the student-run theater on campus and I talked at length to an upperclassman with safety goggles balanced on his head about a new program they're starting for student playwrights. They are also auditioning for Skin of Our Teeth this Friday and Saturday. We'll see how I feel then, but I do know I want to get involved with them some way or another. I love theater people and these were prime examples.
Last night I went to the Theater Intime open house. Theater Intime is the student-run theater on campus and I talked at length to an upperclassman with safety goggles balanced on his head about a new program they're starting for student playwrights. They are also auditioning for Skin of Our Teeth this Friday and Saturday. We'll see how I feel then, but I do know I want to get involved with them some way or another. I love theater people and these were prime examples.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Tomorrow classes start. Monday will be a bit of a baptism by fire (it's one of my busiest days) but I'm looking forward to it and enjoying wasting my time looking up random things on wikipedia now while I still can. For instance, I just learned the the Queen Mum was really good friends with Noel Coward.
Last night I had dinner with OrganGenius, a fellow alum of Damn-Big-Midwestern-University High. He took me to an Indian restaurant and showed me the must-know spots in Princeton.
This evening I checked out the student-run theater open house and it looks really cool (and one of the officers was also named Nom de Plume). I think I'm starting to get some idea of extracurriculars here, but I'm looking forward to this week and the actual school year when club meetings are regular and it's not all about freshmen.
Today's opening ceremonies were grandiose. Most things around here are. We marched through the gates to the sounds of cheering upperclassmen and then sat down outside our dorm for a school-wide barbecue. They certainly love their barbecues here.
Last night I had dinner with OrganGenius, a fellow alum of Damn-Big-Midwestern-University High. He took me to an Indian restaurant and showed me the must-know spots in Princeton.
This evening I checked out the student-run theater open house and it looks really cool (and one of the officers was also named Nom de Plume). I think I'm starting to get some idea of extracurriculars here, but I'm looking forward to this week and the actual school year when club meetings are regular and it's not all about freshmen.
Today's opening ceremonies were grandiose. Most things around here are. We marched through the gates to the sounds of cheering upperclassmen and then sat down outside our dorm for a school-wide barbecue. They certainly love their barbecues here.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
On Thursday night I found a coffee shop. An honest to goodness coffee shop, where the live music started three minutes after I and two of my CA friends walked in. It had a cozy brick and wood corner with art for sale hanging on the walls. I think I've found at least one of my tea nooks.
The other tea nook I found on the same night. A cafe situated underneath one of the campus buildings opened and gave out free t-shirts at ten and RussianRoommate and TopBunk came with me to scope it out. It was short and squat (the ceiling started two inches above my head) and reminded me of a set in Buffy the Vampire Slayer but it had a good vibe and I'll definitely be back. We wandered out of there to see thirty minutes of The Lion King projected on the side of one of the ancient debating societies (hee hee; the fact that we have those still cracks me up) and then went on to the comedy night, which was more my taste than anyone else's. The Sarah Silverman show is very daring and frequently risque, as far as I've heard, but I seem to have been numbed to outrageous statements by my HBO shows. (By my HBO shows I mean, of course, Six Feet Under, my summer love, and The Sopranos, which my dad and I and, more reluctantly, my mom are renting and watching avidly). At any rate, I enjoyed myself.
Yesterday, Friday, was spent reading John Banville (and finishing the book!) and scurrying over to the creative writing office, because I got into the class I applied for!!!! I sent in a six-page writing sample (they asked for approximately 3-4, but I was having a hard time narrowing it down) and as a result got placed in my first choice time slot for Fiction 203.
I'm-Not-Canadian girl from CA's birthday is coming up soon, so our little group took her out for Panera and ice cream cake last night before the famous Triangle Show. She was really touched (she's been feeling homesick for California), which was moving to see.
I loved the Triangle show, as did half of the dinner crowd. The other half hated it. I enjoyed the infamous drag kick line, and applauded loudly and shouted defamatory things about Harvard and Yale when the call and response called for it. The whole experience was like an Ivy League Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I thought it was great.
Afterwards, the dinner group decided to go to BlackBox, a club (nightclub, not activity club) on campus. I was sort of wary, but we met the founder on CA and he was a really nice senior and not affiliated with the Eating Clubs (facts greatly in his favor) so I'm-Not-Canadian girl and I decided that we would go and check it out and then leave. We did, and it seemed like a fun place. Instead of booze, they had Red Bull (another drink I find disgusting, but one I have gobs of tolerance for excessive partaking in) and the atmosphere was, if not wholesome, then at least fun and nonthreatening. We weren't really dressed for it, though, (she was wearing a sweater and I was carrying a large bag) so we went back to another CA friend's huge suite and played on his Wii (I got even better at bowling; now I can do it virtually) until one.
For once I was the last roommate to turn in (although SoccerGirl is on the road with her team) and felt really cool sneaking in to SubFree out of the lightly misting rain, having witnessed private goings on on a bank of grass on the way back from the Wii Dorm and walked on by, as unperturbed as I could be.
Tonight I want to go to bed early. And guess what? I probably will.
The other tea nook I found on the same night. A cafe situated underneath one of the campus buildings opened and gave out free t-shirts at ten and RussianRoommate and TopBunk came with me to scope it out. It was short and squat (the ceiling started two inches above my head) and reminded me of a set in Buffy the Vampire Slayer but it had a good vibe and I'll definitely be back. We wandered out of there to see thirty minutes of The Lion King projected on the side of one of the ancient debating societies (hee hee; the fact that we have those still cracks me up) and then went on to the comedy night, which was more my taste than anyone else's. The Sarah Silverman show is very daring and frequently risque, as far as I've heard, but I seem to have been numbed to outrageous statements by my HBO shows. (By my HBO shows I mean, of course, Six Feet Under, my summer love, and The Sopranos, which my dad and I and, more reluctantly, my mom are renting and watching avidly). At any rate, I enjoyed myself.
Yesterday, Friday, was spent reading John Banville (and finishing the book!) and scurrying over to the creative writing office, because I got into the class I applied for!!!! I sent in a six-page writing sample (they asked for approximately 3-4, but I was having a hard time narrowing it down) and as a result got placed in my first choice time slot for Fiction 203.
I'm-Not-Canadian girl from CA's birthday is coming up soon, so our little group took her out for Panera and ice cream cake last night before the famous Triangle Show. She was really touched (she's been feeling homesick for California), which was moving to see.
I loved the Triangle show, as did half of the dinner crowd. The other half hated it. I enjoyed the infamous drag kick line, and applauded loudly and shouted defamatory things about Harvard and Yale when the call and response called for it. The whole experience was like an Ivy League Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I thought it was great.
Afterwards, the dinner group decided to go to BlackBox, a club (nightclub, not activity club) on campus. I was sort of wary, but we met the founder on CA and he was a really nice senior and not affiliated with the Eating Clubs (facts greatly in his favor) so I'm-Not-Canadian girl and I decided that we would go and check it out and then leave. We did, and it seemed like a fun place. Instead of booze, they had Red Bull (another drink I find disgusting, but one I have gobs of tolerance for excessive partaking in) and the atmosphere was, if not wholesome, then at least fun and nonthreatening. We weren't really dressed for it, though, (she was wearing a sweater and I was carrying a large bag) so we went back to another CA friend's huge suite and played on his Wii (I got even better at bowling; now I can do it virtually) until one.
For once I was the last roommate to turn in (although SoccerGirl is on the road with her team) and felt really cool sneaking in to SubFree out of the lightly misting rain, having witnessed private goings on on a bank of grass on the way back from the Wii Dorm and walked on by, as unperturbed as I could be.
Tonight I want to go to bed early. And guess what? I probably will.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Last Day in Gangland
We awoke after four hours of sleep. I'm not kidding; I was miserable. We tidied up the church and received very nice and moving thank you notes from Pastor Karen and Linda. Then we all trouped out to the cars to pack up and head to Terhune's, an orchard with great donuts, for breakfast with all the other CA groups.
The return to Princeton was bittersweet, because our time bonding and getting to know each other was just then hitting a high point and it was over. Still, we were all excited about orientation and looking forward to meeting our roommates.
I feel like I learned a lot from the week. One thing that I found totally shocking: HOW IN THE WORLD can Princeton and Trenton be so close to one another? One is an idyllic college town where the Rolex store gracing the main drag doesn't pull down a shade at night. The other is a place where, even in our so-so neighborhood, we couldn't venture out in the daytime in groups fewer than three. One has excess poverty, and one is a university that has thrown five free t-shirts at me so far and countless BBQs.
Speaking of BBQs, last night was definitely a highlight. For many reasons.
1) It was the barbecue for our college, where we were given free sweatshirts. After sitting down with a few of my roommates and one of their Outdoor Action friends, the master of our college, an awesome English teacher, came and sat with us. We had a great conversation which canvassed various topics, up to and including an instance when he and his mother broke down in the Small World ride at Disney land, right next to the Samoan. I mentioned that this may very well be an instance of my dad's personal hell. He found that very amusing and cackled really loudly, in perfect homage to one of my CA leader's imitation of him. I made the instant decision to take a class with him at some point at all costs.
2) After the barbecue all of roommate CC's OA friends, me, and RussianRoommate went into the common space of one of their dorms and played werewolves (an amped up and much more awesome version of mafia, the college student staple game) until we were forced to retreat to her actual room by the strong smells of marijuana and partying coming from around the corner of the hall.
3)We finished our games and CC and I decided to head back to the dorm while the others went out to The Street for a (teetotaling, for many of them) college experience. This experience, however, was waiting in the hall as we were forced to dodge her hall mates, baked out of their minds, requesting surprisingly politely that we "join the party." Needless to say we declined and headed back towards our dorm. On the way back we ran into an arch sing. The Roaring Twenty, an a capella group was serenading passersby. The night was beautiful, and we were back in the region of SubFree, so it was quieter. I decided that I was really glad to be in the dorm I'm in, but also really glad to have all these experiences. The high people perversely complemented the beautiful voices of the singers. It was a great evening.
Today I did nothing much, bought some books, heard the founder of Teach for America speak, and hung out with CA friends. In an hour I'm headed to a comedy night with one of the stars of the Sarah Silverman show. Princeton rocks!
We awoke after four hours of sleep. I'm not kidding; I was miserable. We tidied up the church and received very nice and moving thank you notes from Pastor Karen and Linda. Then we all trouped out to the cars to pack up and head to Terhune's, an orchard with great donuts, for breakfast with all the other CA groups.
The return to Princeton was bittersweet, because our time bonding and getting to know each other was just then hitting a high point and it was over. Still, we were all excited about orientation and looking forward to meeting our roommates.
I feel like I learned a lot from the week. One thing that I found totally shocking: HOW IN THE WORLD can Princeton and Trenton be so close to one another? One is an idyllic college town where the Rolex store gracing the main drag doesn't pull down a shade at night. The other is a place where, even in our so-so neighborhood, we couldn't venture out in the daytime in groups fewer than three. One has excess poverty, and one is a university that has thrown five free t-shirts at me so far and countless BBQs.
Speaking of BBQs, last night was definitely a highlight. For many reasons.
1) It was the barbecue for our college, where we were given free sweatshirts. After sitting down with a few of my roommates and one of their Outdoor Action friends, the master of our college, an awesome English teacher, came and sat with us. We had a great conversation which canvassed various topics, up to and including an instance when he and his mother broke down in the Small World ride at Disney land, right next to the Samoan. I mentioned that this may very well be an instance of my dad's personal hell. He found that very amusing and cackled really loudly, in perfect homage to one of my CA leader's imitation of him. I made the instant decision to take a class with him at some point at all costs.
2) After the barbecue all of roommate CC's OA friends, me, and RussianRoommate went into the common space of one of their dorms and played werewolves (an amped up and much more awesome version of mafia, the college student staple game) until we were forced to retreat to her actual room by the strong smells of marijuana and partying coming from around the corner of the hall.
3)We finished our games and CC and I decided to head back to the dorm while the others went out to The Street for a (teetotaling, for many of them) college experience. This experience, however, was waiting in the hall as we were forced to dodge her hall mates, baked out of their minds, requesting surprisingly politely that we "join the party." Needless to say we declined and headed back towards our dorm. On the way back we ran into an arch sing. The Roaring Twenty, an a capella group was serenading passersby. The night was beautiful, and we were back in the region of SubFree, so it was quieter. I decided that I was really glad to be in the dorm I'm in, but also really glad to have all these experiences. The high people perversely complemented the beautiful voices of the singers. It was a great evening.
Today I did nothing much, bought some books, heard the founder of Teach for America speak, and hung out with CA friends. In an hour I'm headed to a comedy night with one of the stars of the Sarah Silverman show. Princeton rocks!
Day Six in Gangland
On Friday we watched the interview as a group. This was not quite as humiliating as I thought it would be, since I came off as slightly less clueless than I had supposed.
The de-stapleizing (as we named it) ended today and we were all a little chagrined. I don't know. Maybe this was just the trademark Princeton masochism, but I prefer to believe that we all found a way to bond through the stories we told each other to pass the time.
What did take up a sizable amount of time on Friday was the choreography of the dance that we would perform at the CA-wide dance that evening, to be held in our basement, where the carnival had been the previous day. We had planned at dance to "Crank That," a newly popular song, but found out at bowling that nearly every group was dancing to it, so we decided on"Lean Like a Cholo" instead. A girl from Ontario, CA taught us what exactly that was and we performed it to great acclaim that night, with even other groups conceding that our dance (with one reference to a dance move in "Crank That," mocking it) was the best.
The actual dance was one of the best I've ever been to, maybe tying with senior prom. A common theme at both dances was that, having no covert crushes on anyone, there were no guys there that I was trying to impress or angle for a dance with. I had a great time and even found some semblance of rhythm. If you're a member of the family, you know how impressive this was.
On Friday we watched the interview as a group. This was not quite as humiliating as I thought it would be, since I came off as slightly less clueless than I had supposed.
The de-stapleizing (as we named it) ended today and we were all a little chagrined. I don't know. Maybe this was just the trademark Princeton masochism, but I prefer to believe that we all found a way to bond through the stories we told each other to pass the time.
What did take up a sizable amount of time on Friday was the choreography of the dance that we would perform at the CA-wide dance that evening, to be held in our basement, where the carnival had been the previous day. We had planned at dance to "Crank That," a newly popular song, but found out at bowling that nearly every group was dancing to it, so we decided on"Lean Like a Cholo" instead. A girl from Ontario, CA taught us what exactly that was and we performed it to great acclaim that night, with even other groups conceding that our dance (with one reference to a dance move in "Crank That," mocking it) was the best.
The actual dance was one of the best I've ever been to, maybe tying with senior prom. A common theme at both dances was that, having no covert crushes on anyone, there were no guys there that I was trying to impress or angle for a dance with. I had a great time and even found some semblance of rhythm. If you're a member of the family, you know how impressive this was.
Day Five in Gangland
The day of the carnival dawned very hot, and we rolled out of bed on six (me, and still not enough) or fewer hours of sleep.
We set up the games and then retired to do more staple removal, which was beginning to grow on us. It was like a knitting circle, but with more pain and goodwill.
The carnival was great, except for the fact that me and another girl, still basking in the afterglow of handing out the backpacks, volunteered to hand out the prizes as well. While thirty people "in line" waited for six little kids to choose their prizes at the top of their lungs, we wondered if this was a good idea. In the end we certainly felt deserving of the pizza that the church provided for us and ate four pieces each, which we needed to fuel us for the evening ahead.
Everyone went bowling. Now, I haven't bowled much, and certainly not since prom, but I'm fairly good (I shamefacedly bowled 131 at prom, beating HarvardGirl's 30 and her date's 45) and got 100. Still, this had to be the low point of the week. Everyone was tired, no one was having fun, and the fact that all the other CA groups were wild and full of energy just made it even worse.
Still, once we returned to the church we managed to stay up even later. Grr.
The day of the carnival dawned very hot, and we rolled out of bed on six (me, and still not enough) or fewer hours of sleep.
We set up the games and then retired to do more staple removal, which was beginning to grow on us. It was like a knitting circle, but with more pain and goodwill.
The carnival was great, except for the fact that me and another girl, still basking in the afterglow of handing out the backpacks, volunteered to hand out the prizes as well. While thirty people "in line" waited for six little kids to choose their prizes at the top of their lungs, we wondered if this was a good idea. In the end we certainly felt deserving of the pizza that the church provided for us and ate four pieces each, which we needed to fuel us for the evening ahead.
Everyone went bowling. Now, I haven't bowled much, and certainly not since prom, but I'm fairly good (I shamefacedly bowled 131 at prom, beating HarvardGirl's 30 and her date's 45) and got 100. Still, this had to be the low point of the week. Everyone was tired, no one was having fun, and the fact that all the other CA groups were wild and full of energy just made it even worse.
Still, once we returned to the church we managed to stay up even later. Grr.
Day Four in Gangland
Wednesday began with a doling out of tasks. First we debriefed on what made the previous day successful and what they should change next year. This was nice because it gave us all a chance to share personal stories and reflections from the day before. We then began working around the church and generally cleaning it up. Two others and I were assigned to weed and sweep the creepy back alley and we started out alright, but pretty soon the overpowering stench coming from the dumpster next door began to get to us. It was the dumpster behind the Chinese food place we had ordered from the night before, so we were understandably not amused when a stream of maggots began to issue forth from it. We squealed a bit and jumped from foot to foot and then finished up with the weeding after first running to get face masks to help a bit with the stench.
After lunch, the same group went up to the music room where we began removing the staples from (I don't exaggerate) millions of reams of sheet music. This would become a three day process.
Showers at the Trenton YWCA that night felt incredibly good, and I didn't bat an eye at the bullet hole in the window about my shower, so glad I was to get that maggot smell off me.
That night we went to another church to prepare dinner for the 10+ people joining us for "Professor's Night," where we were to discuss the book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America, which we had all read over the summer. The cooking went well (I helped prepare the meatballs) and the church was beautiful (the sanctuary was built in 1888 and the rest of it added on in 1920, so it had a very Sherlock Holmes-y/ Little Princess feel) but the night wasn't that great. The two professors dominated the conversation, followed closely by the community partners and left us with little to say besides our names and where we were from.
Talking to them afterwards outside of the discussion was more successful, but I resolved never to take a class with either of them: probably not the response they were going for.
Wednesday began with a doling out of tasks. First we debriefed on what made the previous day successful and what they should change next year. This was nice because it gave us all a chance to share personal stories and reflections from the day before. We then began working around the church and generally cleaning it up. Two others and I were assigned to weed and sweep the creepy back alley and we started out alright, but pretty soon the overpowering stench coming from the dumpster next door began to get to us. It was the dumpster behind the Chinese food place we had ordered from the night before, so we were understandably not amused when a stream of maggots began to issue forth from it. We squealed a bit and jumped from foot to foot and then finished up with the weeding after first running to get face masks to help a bit with the stench.
After lunch, the same group went up to the music room where we began removing the staples from (I don't exaggerate) millions of reams of sheet music. This would become a three day process.
Showers at the Trenton YWCA that night felt incredibly good, and I didn't bat an eye at the bullet hole in the window about my shower, so glad I was to get that maggot smell off me.
That night we went to another church to prepare dinner for the 10+ people joining us for "Professor's Night," where we were to discuss the book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America, which we had all read over the summer. The cooking went well (I helped prepare the meatballs) and the church was beautiful (the sanctuary was built in 1888 and the rest of it added on in 1920, so it had a very Sherlock Holmes-y/ Little Princess feel) but the night wasn't that great. The two professors dominated the conversation, followed closely by the community partners and left us with little to say besides our names and where we were from.
Talking to them afterwards outside of the discussion was more successful, but I resolved never to take a class with either of them: probably not the response they were going for.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I'm really sad today, because I realized that I am missing watching Inspector Lynley with my parents. (And that they are probably not watching it either).
Oh well, let that be the worst thing that ever happens to me.
Last night had its ups and downs. We were corralled into a presentation on public and fire safety, which was that lethal combination of informative and dull. It was directly followed by a panel on diversity which featured a bad presenter and over-long comments by the students chosen to represent various minority groups on campus. It seemed counter productive, because instead of highlighting the wonderful things to be gained from a racially, politically, economically, and socially diverse campus it seemed to dwell on what made its upperclassman presenters different.
To be fair, the one deaf student presenter was totally amazing, and his interpreter was a really talented guy. When I, who unfortunately don't know any sign language, can understand jokes in sign language and not even realize that I'm hearing a translation of them, I tend to be impressed.
That was the highlight of the evening, however, and what followed (small discussion groups) seemed to be a rehashed and condensed version of my entire senior year and the Great Damn-Big-Midwestern-University-High Diversity Controversy. A lot of people had great things to say, but I felt really depressed that I was mentally tuning them out because of poorly reasoned argument's I've heard in the past. I'm not sure how I can get around this. Maybe more exposure? The one question I really loved and offered an answer for was, "Is inaction one of the worst sins you can commit?" I'm paraphrasing but that was the gist. One of my favorite quotes was brought up:
"First the Nazis came…
First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—
and there was no one left to speak out for me." --Martin Niemöller
It is important to say when something is bothering you or is offensive to you because then you are drawing a line, and the earlier the line is drawn the better.
Following the small group discussion most of us went up to the LGBT Center for ice cream and I ran into one of the other leaders from CA that had the same glasses as me. His are red, though. Now there's diversity for you.
Day Three in Gangland
Tuesday was one of the days we'd all been waiting for, because it was the day of the back to school event. It was a complete success and I manned the bubble station with pride, blowing bubbles with little girls until they started losing interest, at which point I floated over to the beanbag toss where this little 2-year old cute Hispanic boy with no English whatsoever tried to tell me something. I felt guilty that I couldn't communicate with him and brought him over to the bubbles where he seemed to enjoy himself. Back at the beanbag toss a group of boys had formed apparently intending to woo me with their powerful baseball throws. I was not impressed as they broke the target and generally terrorized a little girl walking by who almost lost an eye.
Luckily at this point I was called inside to help distributing backpacks, which was great, hectic, and satisfying. We gave out 60 backpacks brimming with school supplies and an additional 48 plastic bags with the same combination of supplies in them.
Following the event, two fellow frosh, LeaderWhoCannotDrive, and I were dragged over to a local TV/Radio station where we were interviewed by Pastor Karen on her weekly radio show. This was nerve wracking, but fine in the end. My acting skills kicked in and apparently I didn't appear nervous or ineloquent (both of which I felt) at all. But more on watching it later.
We rushed back to the church to meet up with another group for minigolf, but not before we got lost twice, almost drove the wrong way down a one-way street, and nearly ran over the mafia (or if it wasn't them I don't know who it was: vaguely Italian looking, freshly scrubbed men in black with gold crosses?). Minigolf was dead boring. There were no pirates. No extra-large vikings. There was no dyed-blue water. This was executive minigolf, A SERIOUS COURSE FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE. Nowhere was this posted, but it was clear when we were almost thrown out for not wearing polo shirts.
Welcome, Nom de Plume, welcome to Princeton.
to be continued....
This morning was great in general, despite my Lynley-less feeling of malaise.
I went on a bike ride along the tow path, read under a tree for an hour, took a tour of the library, applied for a creative writing course, and hung my posters.
Hope everyone is doing well!
Oh well, let that be the worst thing that ever happens to me.
Last night had its ups and downs. We were corralled into a presentation on public and fire safety, which was that lethal combination of informative and dull. It was directly followed by a panel on diversity which featured a bad presenter and over-long comments by the students chosen to represent various minority groups on campus. It seemed counter productive, because instead of highlighting the wonderful things to be gained from a racially, politically, economically, and socially diverse campus it seemed to dwell on what made its upperclassman presenters different.
To be fair, the one deaf student presenter was totally amazing, and his interpreter was a really talented guy. When I, who unfortunately don't know any sign language, can understand jokes in sign language and not even realize that I'm hearing a translation of them, I tend to be impressed.
That was the highlight of the evening, however, and what followed (small discussion groups) seemed to be a rehashed and condensed version of my entire senior year and the Great Damn-Big-Midwestern-University-High Diversity Controversy. A lot of people had great things to say, but I felt really depressed that I was mentally tuning them out because of poorly reasoned argument's I've heard in the past. I'm not sure how I can get around this. Maybe more exposure? The one question I really loved and offered an answer for was, "Is inaction one of the worst sins you can commit?" I'm paraphrasing but that was the gist. One of my favorite quotes was brought up:
"First the Nazis came…
First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—
and there was no one left to speak out for me." --Martin Niemöller
It is important to say when something is bothering you or is offensive to you because then you are drawing a line, and the earlier the line is drawn the better.
Following the small group discussion most of us went up to the LGBT Center for ice cream and I ran into one of the other leaders from CA that had the same glasses as me. His are red, though. Now there's diversity for you.
Day Three in Gangland
Tuesday was one of the days we'd all been waiting for, because it was the day of the back to school event. It was a complete success and I manned the bubble station with pride, blowing bubbles with little girls until they started losing interest, at which point I floated over to the beanbag toss where this little 2-year old cute Hispanic boy with no English whatsoever tried to tell me something. I felt guilty that I couldn't communicate with him and brought him over to the bubbles where he seemed to enjoy himself. Back at the beanbag toss a group of boys had formed apparently intending to woo me with their powerful baseball throws. I was not impressed as they broke the target and generally terrorized a little girl walking by who almost lost an eye.
Luckily at this point I was called inside to help distributing backpacks, which was great, hectic, and satisfying. We gave out 60 backpacks brimming with school supplies and an additional 48 plastic bags with the same combination of supplies in them.
Following the event, two fellow frosh, LeaderWhoCannotDrive, and I were dragged over to a local TV/Radio station where we were interviewed by Pastor Karen on her weekly radio show. This was nerve wracking, but fine in the end. My acting skills kicked in and apparently I didn't appear nervous or ineloquent (both of which I felt) at all. But more on watching it later.
We rushed back to the church to meet up with another group for minigolf, but not before we got lost twice, almost drove the wrong way down a one-way street, and nearly ran over the mafia (or if it wasn't them I don't know who it was: vaguely Italian looking, freshly scrubbed men in black with gold crosses?). Minigolf was dead boring. There were no pirates. No extra-large vikings. There was no dyed-blue water. This was executive minigolf, A SERIOUS COURSE FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE. Nowhere was this posted, but it was clear when we were almost thrown out for not wearing polo shirts.
Welcome, Nom de Plume, welcome to Princeton.
to be continued....
This morning was great in general, despite my Lynley-less feeling of malaise.
I went on a bike ride along the tow path, read under a tree for an hour, took a tour of the library, applied for a creative writing course, and hung my posters.
Hope everyone is doing well!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Hello All!
First things first. I had a very odd and typically Princetonian experience today. I woke up around 9:30, assuming that I could get to the Creative Writing open house I wanted to check out by the time it started, at ten. My first mistake was that I spent time arranging one outfit only to look outside and find it pouring down rain. So I picked another outfit and set out, still with plenty of time, at 9:45. Feeling slightly cocky at my success in navigating the campus yesterday, I decided to take a shortcut. Now, I've seen more movies than the average person and I know that in all the more dramatic instances of life it is a BAD IDEA to take a shortcut unless you've lived somewhere fifteen years or more. Nonetheless, I was hopelessly lost in the engineering quad before I stopped to think and reflect that maybe this had not been the best idea.
By this time it was 10:04 and I wasn't horrendously late but I knew that I should find 185 Nassau as soon as possible and hope that I hadn't missed too much of the presentation.
I broke through the scientific hell of badly planned buildings and emerged onto Nassau St. to discover that I had overshot my goal by two blocks. I trudged back, cursing the delectable mix in my genes between my mom's terrible, almost constantly contrary sense of direction and my dad's I-Need-No-Map-Because-I'm-Never-Lost approach.
I quickly found the James M. Stewart (took me longer than I care to admit to figure out who that was) Theater and went in to discover proceedings not very far under way. I found a seat in the back between two professor types and listened excitedly as Professor and poet James Richardson discussed the course offerings and how to go about getting into them. I was comfortable, dry, and had enough leg room, so I didn't think much about the people on either side of me before James Richardson introduced them (as part of a general staff introduction) as Joyce Carol Oates and Jeffrey Eugenides.
!
Needless to say, finding myself seated between one of Princeton's famous names and one of my own personal favorite Pulitzer-winning writers was a highlight of the day, as was signing up for courses with my adviser. This semester I am taking 1) Molecular Biology 101B, From DNA to Human Complexity, with Bonnie Bassler, winner of a genius award, 2) Religion/Women and Gender 328, Gender, Desire, and the Body: The Islamic Tradition, a course on the roles of men and women in historic and modern Islam, 3) French 221, The Rise of France: French Literature, Culture, and Society from the Beginnings to 1789, which my adviser recommended I take in lieu of an easier course, and the one I'm most excited about 4) English 133, Princeton University Reads, in which we'll read novels written by current faculty members and then have them in to discuss them!
And now back to our riveting tale.
Day Two in Gangland
On our second day in Trenton we awoke at 8:45 and ate breakfast in the spacious but somewhat dilapidated basement kitchen. Honey Nut Cheerios tasted strangely out of place in this new location, but they woke me up, as they used to do at home. The group was still pretty much silent at this point, awkward at meeting so many people at once and being transported somewhere entirely foreign. This was not long-lived however, when we met Pastor Karen, a very open, warm, Latina who ran the church and it's community center, and Linda, her assistant, who sort of reminded me of someone from the faculty ghetto at home (think Birkenstock's). They told us the history of Trenton and the afterschool program that we would be helping with. Then I spent the rest of the morning cleaning out a supply closet with a girl from San Francisco and discussing my, surprising for a playwright, ambivalent/hate attitude towards Shakespeare (I love him in theory but not in practice).
After a lunch of ham and cheese (YUM.) we began painstakingly tying little ribbons through the sides of 1000+ fliers to be hung on doorknobs in the not so great surrounding area. These fliers advertised the Back to School Event and Carnival, two events that we oversaw during the week. One of the highlights of my day was walking around in a group of three and hanging the fliers, mostly because it reminded me of my dad's stories of his youth when, because of the heat, everyone would sit outside and listen to their radios in the dying light. Additionally, I got babyed. Not as in, "Hey, Baby, shake that thang," but rather, "Nobody lives there no more, Baby," from two older women as I attempted to hang a flier on their neighbor's doorknob. To be madamed and babyed in the same summer is a goal everyone should aspire to.
The Trenton YMCA, where we ordinarily shower when on this program, was closed when we finished so we drove back in to Princeton for my first shower in their dorms. It felt really great. (And they're still awesome; it wasn't a dirt thing.)
We rounded off the day with a barbecue at another group's cite (a squeaky-clean church in a lovely area of town) followed by more games and bonding, this time until 1:30 in the morning.
to be continued...
First things first. I had a very odd and typically Princetonian experience today. I woke up around 9:30, assuming that I could get to the Creative Writing open house I wanted to check out by the time it started, at ten. My first mistake was that I spent time arranging one outfit only to look outside and find it pouring down rain. So I picked another outfit and set out, still with plenty of time, at 9:45. Feeling slightly cocky at my success in navigating the campus yesterday, I decided to take a shortcut. Now, I've seen more movies than the average person and I know that in all the more dramatic instances of life it is a BAD IDEA to take a shortcut unless you've lived somewhere fifteen years or more. Nonetheless, I was hopelessly lost in the engineering quad before I stopped to think and reflect that maybe this had not been the best idea.
By this time it was 10:04 and I wasn't horrendously late but I knew that I should find 185 Nassau as soon as possible and hope that I hadn't missed too much of the presentation.
I broke through the scientific hell of badly planned buildings and emerged onto Nassau St. to discover that I had overshot my goal by two blocks. I trudged back, cursing the delectable mix in my genes between my mom's terrible, almost constantly contrary sense of direction and my dad's I-Need-No-Map-Because-I'm-Never-Lost approach.
I quickly found the James M. Stewart (took me longer than I care to admit to figure out who that was) Theater and went in to discover proceedings not very far under way. I found a seat in the back between two professor types and listened excitedly as Professor and poet James Richardson discussed the course offerings and how to go about getting into them. I was comfortable, dry, and had enough leg room, so I didn't think much about the people on either side of me before James Richardson introduced them (as part of a general staff introduction) as Joyce Carol Oates and Jeffrey Eugenides.
!
Needless to say, finding myself seated between one of Princeton's famous names and one of my own personal favorite Pulitzer-winning writers was a highlight of the day, as was signing up for courses with my adviser. This semester I am taking 1) Molecular Biology 101B, From DNA to Human Complexity, with Bonnie Bassler, winner of a genius award, 2) Religion/Women and Gender 328, Gender, Desire, and the Body: The Islamic Tradition, a course on the roles of men and women in historic and modern Islam, 3) French 221, The Rise of France: French Literature, Culture, and Society from the Beginnings to 1789, which my adviser recommended I take in lieu of an easier course, and the one I'm most excited about 4) English 133, Princeton University Reads, in which we'll read novels written by current faculty members and then have them in to discuss them!
And now back to our riveting tale.
Day Two in Gangland
On our second day in Trenton we awoke at 8:45 and ate breakfast in the spacious but somewhat dilapidated basement kitchen. Honey Nut Cheerios tasted strangely out of place in this new location, but they woke me up, as they used to do at home. The group was still pretty much silent at this point, awkward at meeting so many people at once and being transported somewhere entirely foreign. This was not long-lived however, when we met Pastor Karen, a very open, warm, Latina who ran the church and it's community center, and Linda, her assistant, who sort of reminded me of someone from the faculty ghetto at home (think Birkenstock's). They told us the history of Trenton and the afterschool program that we would be helping with. Then I spent the rest of the morning cleaning out a supply closet with a girl from San Francisco and discussing my, surprising for a playwright, ambivalent/hate attitude towards Shakespeare (I love him in theory but not in practice).
After a lunch of ham and cheese (YUM.) we began painstakingly tying little ribbons through the sides of 1000+ fliers to be hung on doorknobs in the not so great surrounding area. These fliers advertised the Back to School Event and Carnival, two events that we oversaw during the week. One of the highlights of my day was walking around in a group of three and hanging the fliers, mostly because it reminded me of my dad's stories of his youth when, because of the heat, everyone would sit outside and listen to their radios in the dying light. Additionally, I got babyed. Not as in, "Hey, Baby, shake that thang," but rather, "Nobody lives there no more, Baby," from two older women as I attempted to hang a flier on their neighbor's doorknob. To be madamed and babyed in the same summer is a goal everyone should aspire to.
The Trenton YMCA, where we ordinarily shower when on this program, was closed when we finished so we drove back in to Princeton for my first shower in their dorms. It felt really great. (And they're still awesome; it wasn't a dirt thing.)
We rounded off the day with a barbecue at another group's cite (a squeaky-clean church in a lovely area of town) followed by more games and bonding, this time until 1:30 in the morning.
to be continued...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Having installed Jayne Mansfield in a place of prominence in our dorm room (after the addition of lab goggles to make her appear more intelligent) my roommates and I are beginning to settle in to this week of orientation. We know where to meet our RAs, we know which superhighway sidewalks will take us where, and we know when not to expect a quiet morning (i.e. when the garbage truck empties the two HUGE dumpsters beneath our windows).
And now, a brief (hahaha don't kid yourself) summary of what I got up to last week.
Arrival at Princeton
After navigating the treacherous Pennsylvania Turnpike, Mom, Dad, and I rolled into Princeton with Steak and Shake in our bellies and (strained, strained) smiles on our faces. I checked in at Baker Rink and was given my ID card (or, prox, as they call it here, mostly, I imagine, because it becomes a sort of surrogate self) and told by a friendly staff member I will probably never see again, "Welcome to Princeton!" This, of course, made Dad tear up a bit, and we steered him out of there to move the car to the entrance of my dorm, henceforth called SubFree (because it's substance free. duh.) We scurried up the stairs and were met by CC, one of my roommates, who was doing Outdoor Action, where they hike around, don't take showers, and bond with each other while peeing in the woods. She seemed to be really nice and was unloading her things into the bottom bunk of what seemed to be the smallest double in existence. I scooted on over to the triple where SoccerRoomie had already taken a bed. It's really spacious and has a direct route to the hallway bathroom, so I definitely made the right choice.
After unloading all my things into various drawers (the nature of which I forgot within the week and had to reacquaint myself) the parents and I went to their hotel, showered, and drove up to Manhattan to see the one, the only, SPAMALOT!!!!!! 'Twas great fun and for once the second act was better than the first, which I think was a stroke of genius. Favorite quotes included:
Sir Lancelot: [talking about gay marriage] Just think Herbert. In a thousand years time this will still be controversial.
Arthur: God be praised. We have a quest: to find the grail!
Sir Robin: The quail!
Arthur: No, the grail. The vessel used at the last supper.
Sir Robin: They had a boat at the last supper? Was it a sort of dinner cruise?
Sir Galahad: The grail is a cup.
Sir Robin: God the almighty and all-knowing has misplaced a cup?
Arthur: I'm all alone.
Patsy: He's all alone.
Arthur: All by myself.
Patsy: Except for me.
Yes. The brilliance.
Day One in Gangland
We got up and readied ourselves for the day at a leisurely pace. Having taken my last bath for the next two months, we headed to breakfast at Panera and a general panicking by me. What happened in the next few hours (was it hours, or just half and hour? Who can say.) is very hazy to, mostly because all I did in that time was wring my hands and watch my dad hook up my printer. We then proceeded to Canon Green where I met my group for the next week. I said a quick goodbye to Mom and Dad, so that they would remain dry. They were all really friendly, and one of the four leaders (the one from Wisconsin) looked eerily like me. We played some bonding games and then went on a scavenger hunt. TexasGirl and I failed to find the monkey with the camera (apparently on 1879 Arch) and resorted to the internet, but we still finished before everyone else.
After everyone finished and ate a dinner from Hoagie Haven (not actual hoagies, thank god)
we piled into vans where I experienced Ride #1 with LeaderWhoCannotDrive. We arrived safely in Trenton at the church we would be living and working at, played a quick round of Mafia, and got to bed at twelve thirty. This was to be my earliest bedtime all week long.
to be continued.....
Meanwhile, today I met for the first time with my academic adviser who is a French professor and the director of the French-language acting troupe. He seems really friendly and...well, French. Tomorrow I will sign up with him for classes. I found out that I can only take one class in each department per semester, so I'll need to do some rethinking.
Earlier today was HSClassmate's birthday, so we went and ate lunch at the Bent Spoon (excellent ice cream!) and rang in her 19th year.
And now, a brief (hahaha don't kid yourself) summary of what I got up to last week.
Arrival at Princeton
After navigating the treacherous Pennsylvania Turnpike, Mom, Dad, and I rolled into Princeton with Steak and Shake in our bellies and (strained, strained) smiles on our faces. I checked in at Baker Rink and was given my ID card (or, prox, as they call it here, mostly, I imagine, because it becomes a sort of surrogate self) and told by a friendly staff member I will probably never see again, "Welcome to Princeton!" This, of course, made Dad tear up a bit, and we steered him out of there to move the car to the entrance of my dorm, henceforth called SubFree (because it's substance free. duh.) We scurried up the stairs and were met by CC, one of my roommates, who was doing Outdoor Action, where they hike around, don't take showers, and bond with each other while peeing in the woods. She seemed to be really nice and was unloading her things into the bottom bunk of what seemed to be the smallest double in existence. I scooted on over to the triple where SoccerRoomie had already taken a bed. It's really spacious and has a direct route to the hallway bathroom, so I definitely made the right choice.
After unloading all my things into various drawers (the nature of which I forgot within the week and had to reacquaint myself) the parents and I went to their hotel, showered, and drove up to Manhattan to see the one, the only, SPAMALOT!!!!!! 'Twas great fun and for once the second act was better than the first, which I think was a stroke of genius. Favorite quotes included:
Sir Lancelot: [talking about gay marriage] Just think Herbert. In a thousand years time this will still be controversial.
Arthur: God be praised. We have a quest: to find the grail!
Sir Robin: The quail!
Arthur: No, the grail. The vessel used at the last supper.
Sir Robin: They had a boat at the last supper? Was it a sort of dinner cruise?
Sir Galahad: The grail is a cup.
Sir Robin: God the almighty and all-knowing has misplaced a cup?
Arthur: I'm all alone.
Patsy: He's all alone.
Arthur: All by myself.
Patsy: Except for me.
Yes. The brilliance.
Day One in Gangland
We got up and readied ourselves for the day at a leisurely pace. Having taken my last bath for the next two months, we headed to breakfast at Panera and a general panicking by me. What happened in the next few hours (was it hours, or just half and hour? Who can say.) is very hazy to, mostly because all I did in that time was wring my hands and watch my dad hook up my printer. We then proceeded to Canon Green where I met my group for the next week. I said a quick goodbye to Mom and Dad, so that they would remain dry. They were all really friendly, and one of the four leaders (the one from Wisconsin) looked eerily like me. We played some bonding games and then went on a scavenger hunt. TexasGirl and I failed to find the monkey with the camera (apparently on 1879 Arch) and resorted to the internet, but we still finished before everyone else.
After everyone finished and ate a dinner from Hoagie Haven (not actual hoagies, thank god)
we piled into vans where I experienced Ride #1 with LeaderWhoCannotDrive. We arrived safely in Trenton at the church we would be living and working at, played a quick round of Mafia, and got to bed at twelve thirty. This was to be my earliest bedtime all week long.
to be continued.....
Meanwhile, today I met for the first time with my academic adviser who is a French professor and the director of the French-language acting troupe. He seems really friendly and...well, French. Tomorrow I will sign up with him for classes. I found out that I can only take one class in each department per semester, so I'll need to do some rethinking.
Earlier today was HSClassmate's birthday, so we went and ate lunch at the Bent Spoon (excellent ice cream!) and rang in her 19th year.
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