What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday was supposed to be my last day in Maryland, and it was by all accounts epic.  Anran and I got up early to go to Butler’s Orchard with Ashley and Thomas to pick fresh blackberries and raspberries.  We got lunch at A&J, and then returned to my house to make a pie.  I gathered my belongings and got the majority of my packing done.  As part of restaurant week, Anran, my family and I went to 701 for dinner.  At night we did some cooking and watched Project Runway.  Really it should’ve been a perfect note to leave town on, yet leaving is exactly what I felt like I couldn’t do.

Anran had said something the day before that had made it finally sink in that more likely than not, we were locking ourselves into at least three more years of long-distance, if not more.  Three years.  That would mean a total of at least five years long distance.  Marriage and settling down and all that would be nice, but seriously, right now I would be ecstatic just to have matching zip codes*.

The other thing is that I had planned to leave today around lunch, when all my friends and family would be at work, with no one to see me off.  Or to help catch my cats.  Call me needy, but the whole thing felt a bit like sneaking off in the dead of night.  Who doesn’t want pre-departure goodbye hugs from their loved ones?

So we called my roommate to let him know, and verified with my schedule, and here I still am with new plans to leave Saturday.  And holy cow does one extra day make such a difference.  Tomorrow I can leave, seen off by Anran, feeling ready to start the next phase of my life.

*Amusing fun fact: even when I’m home Anran and I do not actually have matching zip codes because the street that lies in between our neighborhoods is the county divider.  It’s about a 5 minute walk from his house to mine.

Toronto 8.16.09

An Open Letter to a Friendship Long Gone

So it has been a little over three years now and a lot has changed, but a lot has stayed the same too. Most of the time I would like to pretend that I’m over it, but every now and then I find out that you either will be or were in town and I instinctively get that old familiar vomit feeling at the pit of my stomach, which admittedly I prefer to the lump in my throat that I carried for you for far far far too long. And I guess you still come to mind pretty much every day, but now it’s more like the dull itch of a phantom limb than the suffocating wound that it used to be. Earlier this summer it occurred to me that I’m beginning to lose more and more of my memories about you, so much so that when I see the occasional photo of you I can’t remember what it was like to see you in person. Even my most cherished memories feel more like something I read in a book than aspects of my own life. For a while it bothered me, some vague sense of having lost something incredibly important, but now even that has faded beyond all recognition.

I want to say that it changed me drastically, but it hasn’t that much. I’m a little more closed-off and private, and more cautious about who I chose to confide in, but wasn’t I always excessively self-reliant anyway? It largely effected my Cleveland social life for a while, as I simply didn’t want any sort of human company and preferred safe isolation instead, but that’s over and done with at this point.

Case in point with regard to staying the same: D. messaged me shortly after graduation with a brief apology and a need for conversation, and I should have said no and left it at that but of course I ended up talking. I spent the next few weeks puttering about in mild self-loathing, berating myself for having learned nothing in the past two years. But Anran reminded me about how last year, when you had begun trying to get back in touch with me and, despite whatever torn feelings I had, I decided that it wasn’t even worth giving you the chance, and it turned out to be the right choice in a huge way. And Hannah insisted that there’s no reason to beat myself up over trying to be nice*. Still, it felt like a step backward from the assertiveness I thought I had gained after everything you did.

In the end I’m not really over it. When everything originally fell apart between us, it felt like something that I’d never really be over. Three years later it still seems true. There’s no closure, thanks to your childish avoidance of real-life interaction. Anran and I have stopped hanging out with most of the people that run in your circle, so I doubt there’s much possibility of running into you anytime soon. Who knows. Maybe in another few years it’ll have fully dissipated. One can only hope.

*Steve Rose once said to me that when people do things that are blatantly childish, immature, or intentionally hurtful, you have to wonder what the world would be like if everyone behaved like that, and that should drive you to try and do the right thing. Most of the time I try to subscribe to the “don’t be a jerk” rule of life, but really, sometimes I just want to fling obscenities. And maybe some bricks.

Michigan Weekend, Pt 2

SUNDAY 8/2
8:30 AM: Wake up to an obnoxious duet of cell phone alarms. Anran is supposed to meet up with a Michigan med school resident at 11:30, so I decide to let him sleep more while I continue unpacking and setting up house. Turns out he didn’t sleep well through the night, not at all helped by the fact that in an attempt to go to the bathroom he walked right into my door, which is dark brown and I suppose could easily be mistook for an unlit hallway to glasses-less eyes. I suppose.

9:30 AM: Anran gets up and announces that when we live together we’re getting a queen sized bed. I argue that a new bed means a new mattress and a new mattress pad and new sheets and money.

11:25 AM: Arrive at our meeting place: Angelo’s, which I thought was closed but apparently has just reopened! We order a cheese danish and a coffee for while we wait.

11:35 AM: Where is med school resident?

11:45 AM: I get impatient and order us sandwiches, and then decide that I will head back to the apartment to continue setting up house while Anran waits.

1:00 PM: Anran gives up on med school resident. Jerk never calls back, but at least we have delicious sandwiches.

3:00 PM: Unfortunate discovery: my parents clearly did not use any sort of directions in putting together my bed, and have blatantly done so incorrectly. I dig up the instructions and we dismantle and reattach the base cross supports. This seemingly simple endeavor is vastly complicated by the fact that 1) IKEA furniture may be cheap and fun but it’s hella flimsy, and more importantly, 2) nearly all the screws have been completely stripped; this bed will never be taken apart and put back together again unless new ones are purchased. I concede to the possibility of a future queen sized bed. My lack of muscle cannot deal with the wrestling required to reassemble the bed, so I fake productivity while Anran does the difficult work.

4:00 PM: Man, eff this bed.

6:00 PM: Bed is fixed! We decide to take a stress-relieving walk to the music school. At a fairly leisurely pace it only takes 15 minutes, meaning I could get there in 10 minutes if I rushed. This is particularly exciting since in all of my 5 years of higher education I’ve always been a commuter, making my doctoral years the first time that I’ve ever been able to walk to school. The walk is extremely pleasant, and we stop often to indulge Anran’s inner amateur botanist. Once we arrive at the school we discover that the building is open but almost completely empty, so we take the opportunity for some photography. I’m ever grateful to have a boyfriend who will indulge my photography hobby, both in his patience for my constant need to stop and shoot and in his willingness to pose for the camera. We eventually walk back to my car and drive around a little to check out the two Korean grocery stores, the Indian grocery store, and the bakery. Bakery happens to be closed, and Anran keeps me from making unnecessary purchases of sweets and snacks at the other shops. Dinner is leftover Angelo’s, followed by the creation of a full apartment inventory for my roommate. We are responsible and go to bed early! I prop the door so that Anran won’t walk into it again. He misses the point and removes my prop.

MONDAY 8/3
9:30 AM: Ahhhh sad, I don’t want to go home. After waking up and loading the car, which of course takes way longer than anticipated, we head over to Zingerman’s for brunch, presents (brownies) for friends, and food for the road. We order: a crispy fried potato latke with sausage gravy and two eggs over easy (mine), a breakfast BLT (his), and Ellen’s Inter-Continental Sesame Chicken salad (for the road). Also a hot cocoa coffeecake and a container of chopped liver for my sister. Everything is delicious. Oh man I live a mile from Zingerman’s. Now if only I could afford it!

12:00 PM: Time to hit the road! Oh crap the car is wobbling. Pull over to discover that rear driver’s side tire is completely destroyed. Anran proceeds to change the tire while I whine on the phone and take photographs. We look up auto repair shops on the GPS. On the drive to Firestone Anran confronts me about whether or not I have ever ACTUALLY changed a tire. I explain that I know how to, and can operate the jack, and know where to find the instruction manual, and know all the little tips and stuff, but thankfully I have only ever gotten flat tires on drives with other people who are willing to engage in the manual labor. Win for me (knock on wood).

1:00 PM: Firestone is across the street from a thrift shop, which is a clearly sign that I need to shop. Pick up two tops, an evening gown, and two books for $11. The car still isn’t finished, so we walk to Borders and waste time there.

2:00 PM: Thomas calls and laughs at me when I explain that we have yet to make it out of Michigan. And here I had gotten him a brownie out of love.

2:30 PM: Finally on the road!! Intellectual driving conversations ensue. “How bad would it be if the time traveler time traveled while driving home from work?” “Apparently baby heads smell awesome, we should have a baby head sniffing party.” Anran discovers that I speed when on the phone with and annoyed at my mom (who knew!), and admits that he was praying that I would hang up soon because if not we were going to die. I listen to “Crown of Love” on repeat.

5:00 PM: Rest stop. Panera has free samples of some sort of sweet bagel, which we hoard for our drive. Anran also picks up a tuna sandwich and some Starbucks, both of which turn out to be surprisingly decent. Starbucks has Cleveland mugs and I (not-so) secretly pine. Anran makes a snide joke about the Cuyahoga River not being on fire. I miss Cleveland!  Nap will make things better.

8:00 PM: Wake up from nap. Listen to “Crown of Love” on repeat.

9:30 PM: WHY IS THERE TRAFFIC THIS LATE! Anran is smart and exits the highway to take local roads.

10:00 PM: Arrive home. Parents are watching Battlestar Galactica and have little concern for our return. Cats rejoice. Ashley informs me that our zucchini plant has finally begun to yield produce. I lament having to return to work in the morning.

Michigan Weekend, Pt 1

FRIDAY 7/31
8:30 AM: Ann Arbor today! Up and showered, waiting for Anran to finish volunteering so we can head out. Parents left a few hours ago, but have now begun a barrage of inane phone calls under the correct assumption that I am now awake. These involve such crucial matters as, “Can you look up some stock market quotes for me?” and, “Pack me some peaches for the drive home.” The latter turns out to be particularly amusing since the next day my mom ends up asking me to purchase 5 lbs of pluots in Ann Arbor as they are only $1.48/lb at Kroger’s. Where is Anran? Texting about dinner plans with my Michigan crush to pass the time.

10:30 AM: ANRAN IS HERE! Leaving is delayed anyway, as I feel the need make sure we have plenty of food packed for the road, not to mention my compulsive but ineffective need to triple check that I’ve packed everything, ineffective because we still manage to leave behind a whiteboard and one box. Driving starts out fairly uneventful. Anran takes a nap while I listen to both Arcade Fire cds twice, followed by looping my favorite song on repeat (Crown of Love). Find myself somewhat irked by our lack of overlapping musical tastes, but am content to compulsively listen to the same music for hours.

3:00 PM: Bored. Time to make Anran drive and take a nap.

6:00 PM: Wake up to endless cornfields. Only one hour left! Dinner with Michigan crush approaches! I send her text messages and ramble excitedly to Anran, who is by now used to my female infatuations and politely tolerates me. This will be the third time we’ve hung out ever.

7:00 PM: Arrive in Ann Arbor, central campus area. Cleveland jokes begin. Do you want to find a closer parking spot? Nah we can totally walk around at night in this city…we’re not in CLEVELAND. Dinner is at Good Time Charley’s, and Michigan crush is just as charismatic as I remember. I order a Guinness and a burger topped with fried avocado. Anran insists on ordering more fries than we can handle per usual, and then proceeds to falsely claim that did in fact once order and finish three bowls of fries at Granville Moore’s with my friends (we struggled to finish two). We discuss NYC, the future, our mutual friend, Ann Arbor, long distance relationship, and much much more. Eventually we depart as her brother arrives in town to help her move out of her apartment. Hugs and promises to meet again!

9:00 PM: Bubble tea after dinner? Creepy girl at the register tells Anran she can cure his hiccups with her mind. It doesn’t work.

9:45 PM: First step into my new home. Oh man so nice. Instant love. Potentially awkward parental situation resolved by my mother announcing that Anran and I are sleeping on the futon mattress in the living room. Sadly, Anran will not get to experience the cuddling power of my father.

SATURDAY 8/1
7:30 AM: Awoken by loud parents turning on lights and eating breakfast. Make snide comment to my dad, who responds with an unnecessary explanation of why he has to get up early. Mom tells dad to shut up so we can sleep. I decide to get up anyway around 8 AM, mostly to harass Anran, who has to pee and was foolish enough to not take advantage of the bathroom before my parents started showering and brushing their teeth. Sucker.

8:30 AM: Parents leave to pick up my furniture out of storage. I ask Anran to start assembling my desk/bookshelf while I go get some things from the living room. When I return he’s asleep on the floor. I take photos, seeing as how it’s the only logical thing to do. Upon waking up we put together my desk, and I realize that I had been using it assembled backwards for the past two years in Cleveland. Furniture fail. Assembly and unpacking turns out to go far faster than anticipated, so upon my parents’ return we inform them that if they want to leave tonight rather than Sunday then we can take care of the rest ourselves. Parents decide to go grab us food from Zingerman’s and then head out. Anran unpacks while I pretend to be productive but secretly drool over the prospect of Zingerman’s.

12:30 PM: Corned beef! Pastrami! Sesame noodle chicken salad! Bread! I live a mile from Zingerman’s! Hah to everyone who said not to live on North Campus! Parents leave and more packing ensues.

6:30 PM: First excursion outside the apartment. Should we lock the deadbolt? Nah, we’re not in CLEVELAND.

7:00 PM: Dinner at Seva, a vegetarian restaurant that many claim could turn them from meat eaters. We order: yam fries with spicy mayo, haloumi with portobello mushrooms and pesto on garlic bread, goat cheese with Michigan honey and pistachios and garlic bread, and a penne dish with cheese, mushrooms and fake sausage.  Yam fries come first, and we pretty much inhale the entire thing.  I admit that I prefer them to belgian fries, and Anran calls me silly and then states that they are delicious but not REAL fries.   Then he rambles about his dislike of fake meat and declared that we would see how this fake sausage stood his taste test.  Our food arrives.  Oh my god the cheese.  Cheeeese.  Everything comes with grapes and Anran is delighted by the combination of grapes and cheese (I am not sure why people often seem to not think of the combination, after all if jam and cheese is good then why not grapes?).  I gorge on cheese while Anran tries the pasta.  The sausage is good.  It’s so good that Anran ragefully declares its deliciousness while stuffing as much as possible into his mouth.  Despite our initial intentions, there’s no possible way we can manage dessert.

8:00 PM: Decide to head back to the apartment to continue unpacking. In an attempt to learn the city layout, I announce that I am going to find my way back sans GPS. I take a wrong turn and instead accidentally stumble upon a used book store, which we instantly decide that we have to check out. I find two classical music books while Anran picks up some Rushdie and Pynchon. Upon paying, Anran strikes up a conversation with the man at the register (Richard?), who just so happens used to live in DC. I sneak off to look at more books and find a copy of Part II of Goethe’s Faust for $3. When I return the man asks me about my upcoming studies at UMich and then proceeds to offer the book for free, thanking us for the nice conversation. On the way back to the car we stop at Sweetwater’s for some coffee and key lime pie.

10:00 PM: WHAT THE HELL WHEN DID IT BECOME 10 PM??  Ugh, so much for productive unpacking.

Clevigan? Micheland?

Tomorrow I leave for Michigan until Monday with Anran and my parents to move my furniture out of storage and begin setting up house.  It’s the first major stage of my move to Ann Arbor, one that clearly has yet to sink in based on the fact that every time I mention it I accidentally say “Cleveland” instead.  What time do you want to leave for Cleveland?  What do you want to do in Cleveland?  Cleveland Cleveland Cleveland.

That’s not to say that I’m not excited about Michigan, more like this is all still so surreal to me.  I graduated?  I have a Masters degree?  I’m sorry, what?  I’m starting my DMA?  No, sorry, you have a wrong number, call back in a few years when I’m qualified for to own this life.  But I guess that’s silly and I guess I am qualified, considering they are my accomplishments and whatnot.

Most of this trip will be setting up furniture and unpacking, but we did make sure to look up a bunch of restaurants to try out, plus the mandatory visit to Zingerman’s (!!!!!).  Plus Anran and I will stay an extra day longer than my parents, since we haven’t had time to take a trip together this summer.  Mostly it’ll be nice to just have some downtime and explore my new city (not Cleveland??).  Apartment/Ann Arbor photos upon my return!

Infinite

My friend Jen very much loves David Foster Wallace, and so, this being my summer of reading, I decided to dive into A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, which I conveniently stumbled upon on our kitchen counter about two weeks ago.  The first essay was slow going for me, but the more that I read the faster things picked up speed, and now I really just want to plow on so that I can move on through his entire opus.  A moment of wanting to appear productive while actually taking a much needed typing break caused me to read a 13-page New Yorker article on the man and oh my god I don’t even know what to say, the profound feeling of suddenly losing a dear friend that I never before met or knew that I had, which has spurred a sudden need for more and more and more information and I wish I could explain.  It is the instant feeling that here is a man who would have understood, and in words and phrases and sentences there is a certain relatability that I feel as if I have been seeking for the past two years.

Yesterday at work I wrote a long blog entry about my relationship with television and how drastically it has shifted from the lowest point of my depression (easily averaging 10 to 12 hours a day) to now (averaging 4 to 8 hours a week).  It was fueled by a quote I had read in “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction” on the cyclical relationship between TV and the lonely person’s inability to cope with the real world, which made me think back to the second semester of my first year in Cleveland, during the worst point of which I skipped school all the time and spent most of my days and nights on my futon, averaging about three to four hours of sleep a night.

I write a lot of these more personal entries at work and email them to myself so that when I get home I can simply post them with as little time in front of the computer as possible.  The 6 to 10 hours in front of a computer imposed upon me by my office job make it such that the last thing I really want to do when I get home is spend a substantial amount of time in front of a screen, TV or computer.  But I never post them, and by now my Gmail inbox has gathered about 30 of such unopened emails ranging in subject from food to music to how I feel about technology to god knows what, and in retrospect they will probably need to be deleted soon because their sheer presence on my laptop just irks me.  It is not a huge deal because the blog only exists as a means to keep in touch with a small handful of people, along with a convenient personal record of selected events, but all the same.

Self-conscious self-consciousness.  I don’t know I don’t know, I just think he would have understood.

Lord of the Half Blood Prince?

“So then Dumbledore is like, ‘Harry, we need the hoarflax,’ so they go and he drinks this potion stuff.  And then he goes, ‘Haaarry…..water….,’ so Harry goes MELTICITUS and tries to get water from ice.  It doesn’t work, so he decides to go to this sketchy ass lake and zombies try to kill him.  Then the movie turns into Lord of the Rings, so Gandalf appears and says, ‘YOU SHALL NOT PASS’ and the lake catches on fire and Harry is saved.”  –Ashley, explaining parts of the newest Harry Potter movie to me

Regaining Literacy

Due to both increased gym usage and necessary typing breaks from work (oh arms, will you ever fully heal?), I’m reading more for pleasure than I have in a long, long time.  Since high school, probably.  So, inspired by heavy reading friends like Angela and Jen, I’ve started keeping track of my summer reading.  I’m trying to keep it to non-music books, since these days most of my reading is music-related, but obviously I’m not fully succeeding as already one has slipped in.  I have a pretty long list of potential next (or concurrent) reads, but suggestions are always welcome!

Adventures in Pizza Grilling