Monday, June 16, 2008
Twice today I thought I was 18, then had to remind myself that I'm actually older. Not by much, but there is a certain symmetry in being 18 in 2008, despite knowing I was born in 1988. I don't suppose to explain how my mind jumps.

A week or so ago a then coworker at Lush told me I ought to look into DJing. It had something to do with the mountain of mixtapes I made and 'the nice progression with songs'. She had no idea how much she fed my ego with that simple suggestion. Since I first realized what a mix was, I've been after my dad, my friends, and finally when I got my own computer, myself (if that makes sense) to make as many mixes as could possibly fit my current mood, or state of being. Hell, I wrote my transfer essay on it.

My first mix led my dad to accuse me of musical ADHD. I think I've come a long way.

I want to get involved in the radio at my new school in the fall. There will be no BU Central, and I think radio is my best shot for filling the musical void. Here's hoping they know what they're getting into.

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posted by Courtney at 8:07 PM | 1 comments
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
So I just read this article in the New York Times about public transportation in European cities being your best bet when traveling this summer, what with the dollar weeping softly each and every time you trade it in for that more expensive euro model. And it made me miss UBahns and subways and RERS and buses- frankly, I wasn't expecting that. I know I love public transportation, mostly because I'm a cheap ass creeper who loves to watch people, but I didn't think it'd be something I would miss.

It all goes along with my desire to assimilate as much as possible is any place, I suppose. I don't enjoy being a tourist- wearing fanny pack/money pooches, socks with sandals, speaking English loudly, and given the set menu (and not just because I don't eat meat). Public transportation puts you with the people, and makes me feel like I might actually live some place, especially if I'm figuring out the lines and such in another language. Plus, I like puzzles. And those mazes for you pencils that are on the backs of kids menus at restaurants.

I miss Europe. I'm already planning a trip back, which is pawing at becoming a trip to Lebanon, which reflects the fact that I'm working two jobs this summer, and much as I love one (Lush!) and love the tips at another (coffee!...... Dunkin Donuts), it's soul crushing. And hard. And I'm feeling the old anxiety come back. Which found me meditating last night, because my brain started freaking out and I kept fixating on baby chicken bones. Yeah. That's what OCD/anxiety is like.

I'm good though. I have an apartment for next year. A bike I'm saving up for. It stopped raining, and I'll be going for a run. This summer turned itself around nicely.

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posted by Courtney at 5:56 AM | 1 comments
Saturday, May 17, 2008
I've been missing Dublin more and more as I return to cooking. Two days ago I made a tofu curry, and I wanted more than anything as I ate it while reading 'Eat, Pray, Love' (the book that made its rounds through the flats last semester), was someone (Beth, Amanda) to taste it, to eat with me and laugh. I'm sitting outside the kitchen now, waiting for the Lemon Pudding Cake (courtesy of Vegan Dad) to bake so I can prove to my mom that I can indeed cook more than just those crazy chickpeas, and all I can remember is the first/last time I made that cake- still drunk, Easter morning, for our wonderful brunch.

I guess it's no surprise that food triggers these memories- I mean, by the end of the semester I was crazy my mom's zitti and diner food like no one's business (and believe me, it became everyone's business since I bitched so much about it). I still associate the smell of wet parsley with my grandmother (but maybe that's just a generic old folks smell) and cleaning her home out after her death years ago. And now when I look to moving to Williamsburg, I'm basing living off of making sure I have access to kitchen (which is why I'll be living off campus).

Food is a comfort, and a refuge, and a joy. And I hate not being about to share that with those I love, when I want to.

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posted by Courtney at 11:16 AM | 0 comments
Tuesday, April 22, 2008

As of ten hours ago, I was pretty decided I was going to
William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia next fall. It's a great school, amazingly strong IR/Global Studies/Public Policy programs, and a good price. Hell, I was planning on becoming a resident of Virginia so my senior year I could just pay $16K.

Providence College accepted me too.
I just found out this morning
Rutgers admitted me. I have to email them to find out what the aid offer is.

I feel very befuddled. Probably because even though I thought I would get into every school I applied to, I didn't actually think it would happen. And it did.

I wonder if that means I should have devoted more time to my applications as a senior in high school, instead of trying to get everything done at once while balancing a breakdown and way too many responsibilities.

This grown up shit is weird.

Mad Girl’s Love Song

Sylvia Plath

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Howth, Ireland

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posted by Courtney at 1:39 AM | 0 comments
Tuesday, April 15, 2008

It seems strange that in a few weeks I'll be back in the United States. I can't tell if it's because I think my time Not There has gone so quickly, or so long. Part of it ties into spending four months identifying, defending myself as an American, and now I face returning to my ancestral home. When in Barcelona, walking up to Park Guell, we passed what looked like a punk house. Written on the roof was 'Why do they call it tourist season if we can't shoot them?'. I was sympathetic; I remember the same sentiment from living on the Shore, waiting and wanting for all the Bennys to leave so the stop signs could be covered again and the beaches empty. But then right after, was a bit of graffiti that said simply enough 'Yankees go home.'

I was angry. I may be an American, but I am no fucking Yankee. A Yankee is the kid in our group who went to Spain with a cowboy hat; a Yankee is someone who doesn't bother to learn the language (not even a please, or a thank you); a Yankee wears socks with sandals.

And since then I've been rethinking
how I feel about being an American. Reading 'Into the Wild' only encouraged the questioning, and instilled a desire to road trip across the Pacific Northwest, to boot. And now knowing that I am leaning towards relocating down to Virginia, Williamsburg no less, where I will face tourists, and Yankees and inevitably be North--- the meaning of American hasn't settled down much.

Still, it seems unusual that soon enough my hands will be close to my mother's hands, that I will be able to have lunch with my father and coffee with my friends; that I will see Boston and New York and the same old town I have lived in for much too long. I worry about slipping back into my old ways, and yet not being able to shed the worst habits I picked up here. I must resolve to hold onto the good things- the sense of freedom, and better baking especially- while returning to better habits- running, not eating at all hours simply because I am in the mood to cook- and holding onto integrity. Such a little town, and I am half-afraid of it, convinced it is loaded with weights and claws, everything joined together in a grand attempt to impose stasis.

I'm not really worried about the summer. It sucks that I haven't heard back from internships, but even if nothing turns up, I'm sure I'll find some sort of gainful employment, be it Starbucks or doing some sort of transcribing. Things will come through; they always do.

Music: Broken Social Scene 'Swimmers'

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posted by Courtney at 3:54 PM | 0 comments