ambivalent

I think most often the word ambivalent is misused or at least confused with the word indifferent. Instead of having no opinion at all, being ambivalent means that you have two conflicting opinions about one thing. I find myself packing (AGAIN!) this morning, I've been visiting my parents in Rhode Island for the last week, and am heading back to Texas this afternoon. I'm amazed by my inability to deal with the overwhelming sense of ambivalence I have. In the same breath I'm excited to return to Austin, and sad about leaving New England behind again. And why shouldn't I be.

It's been a great week, so many friends and family packed in to 7 short days. It's a little tough to deal with the rollercoaster of saying good-bye to someone again, and being excited to see someone else for the first time about 4 minutes later. It gets to the point where you're just excited for a return to your regularly scheduled life. Until plane day, when you realize you really do like these people here!

Someone very wise asked me yesterday, 'is there no middle ground?' and unfortunately, I don't always find it. Days like today it's the hardest - but (thanks AS), I've begun to look for that middle ground. So, instead of being sad to leave I'm just going to bask in the glow of all the wonderful people and things I've seen and done this week. The take home message from this trip is, I have a set of the world's greatest friends - from everywhere. I mean, seriously, does it get better than this?

Oh, and to top it off - I won't be hung over for my 2-hour layover in Newark today. It's a weird feeling to fly like this, but...I think I'll be modeling my flight nights after last night from now on.

someone's gotta clean up around here

My second job as crime-fighting superhero started a little over a week ago, in fact on my birthday. We’d finished dinner and post-dinner drinks, and everyone was heading home. We’d all parked in roughly the same spot and were still standing around the sidewalk chatting and saying goodbye. We heard a screeching crunch and I looked up just in time to witness a large black SUV sideswipe a small parked car and bumble on down the road. RO’D was already in his car, so we sent him after the SUV and he called back with the license plates and make/model of the car. A friend and I wrote a little note and left it on the parked car, hoping that the karma from this act would protect our cars on future downtown visits.

A few days later I was at the dog park with Sukka, LR, and Kibbie, when my second crime-fighting superhero opportunity arose. On our way out we saw a woman sitting on the ground crying. It was on second glance that we realized she was surrounded by luggage. LR and I hesitated a bit, unsure of what to do or say to this woman. Another man also was lingering, so we all approached her. Turns out she was from out of town, had been “dropped off” at the dog park, and was not flying out until the following evening – from Houston. We tried to calm her down a bit, offered her some suggestions as to how she could get to Houston, where she could stay, and drove her to a Starbucks so she could get some coffee and make her phone calls. It was one of the strangest interactions I’ve had in a long time.

And then, yesterday morning I stopped to get a bagel for breakfast on my way in to school and as I parked my car I noticed a woman on the ground behind her mini-van. I got out and went over to see what was wrong. I’m still unsure how she ended up on the ground, but she was handicapped and was trying to get her motorized chair into the back of the van, and had somehow made it to the ground and was having trouble getting up. This was one of those situations I hate, as I was unsure of exactly WHAT to do to help her try and get up. (Sometimes I have the same trouble when I try and help my grandmother maneuver around – where is my arm, grip, strength actually most beneficial??) I first moved her coffee cup, which seemed in the way, and then I helped get the chair into the van. By this point a rather tall man came over to offer some help, and he was much better at actually getting her up off the ground. After just a few minutes she was up and on her way, and we were headed inside to get bagels.

We’ll see what crime-fighting superhero adventures today brings, until then I’ll be designing my superhero costume – any suggestions?

we will never forget (again).

I can't believe I'm about to admit this publicly, but more so, I can't believe it happened. To me. And a friend of mine. I'm basically speechless, and horrified. And, while I know this post may disappoint some (Mom, Dad, brace yourselves) I feel that the public service announcement may help to prevent other people from falling into the same trap.

I play trivia on Tuesdays with some friends. This week there was a baseball question: Who hit a three run home run on the opening game at Yankee Stadium. Our guess was Babe Ruth, but I was unsure. I wasn't sure what year Yankee Stadium was built, I was thinking it was before the Babe was a Yank. As I was trying to put out this argument (to my very NON-baseball teammates) *it* happened. I said:

When was Yankee Stadium opened, because Babe was traded in 1908.

As soon as I said it, it didn't sound right. I couldn't believe it. I could no longer remember that dreaded year - the last time the Sox won the series (I mean, the last time before two times ago). I sat there searching my brain for that year, killing myself to try and remember. One of my teammates even looked over to ask if i was ok. No, definitely not ok.

I instantly texted 3 of my red sox loving friends and admitted my forgetfulness:

OMG! I can't remember the year the Sox won the Series before 2004!

I decided that I could figure it out, and quickly calculated 2004 minus 86, and came to the correct answer. As soon as I figured it out, I got an answer back from RO'D and all it said was:

1927?

As a devoted member of Red Sox Nation, I am thoroughly disappointed in the ease with which we have forgotten those horrid chants, those damn yankee fans that thought they could taunt us with our curse, that 86 years before 2004 the Boston Red Sox were the 1918 World Series Champions!

we're gonna sip bacardi...

If I had to break things down, I think 26 was my favorite year, although 17 is up there. And 21 was pretty alright too. 23 was definitely the worst. And, where does 27 fit in? Somehow, I think it doesn't. It was a year not like any others. It was marked with change and resistance and growth. A combination I'm not sure I've been able to muster in the past. Instead of marveling over myself though (I do that enough I think), I'd like to take this moment to thank everyone. My family, and my friends - both new and old - for going through this transitional year with me. I feel so incredibly lucky and special today. Before noon this morning I'd heard from friends from high school, college, and grad school. People from Rhode Island, Boston, DC, and Austin. I've heard from people who've known me since I was 12, and people who just met me last month. It's really eye-opening and heart warming to have so many wonderful people share my life with me. So thank you! Here's to 28!