Okay, something I never realized living in Princeton the last time it happened. Cicadas are very interesting and cute when they’re stuck to trees and slipping their skins one or two at a time, but they’re kinda freaky when they’re flying around in droves and landing on you like something out of a fifties horror flick. How the hell do people live in DC with this stuff? It’s insane! Thank god I straightened my hair; I was scared those frigging things were going to get caught!
The metro (subway) is fabulous, though, it’s so airy and futuristic. And we went to this freaking awesome slow food restaurant, really delicious and just satisfying in this bone-deep way. Really good food, thoughtfully prepared, just makes you feel cared for.
Anyhow, I’m just hanging with a dear friend, having a blast. It’s great to be playful, to watch action flicks and talk and just BE. He forced me to watch Rundown. Now, I was prepared to hate it because it’s the Rock, I mean, of course he can’t act, and he refers to himself in the third person. Plus, everyone else in that movie has made a name for themselves as a character actor, so clearly they were just there to make the Rock look good, right? But there were actually a lot of really original moments in it, and the Rock didn’t do the whole stoic Arnie routine; he was channeling some nice early Harrison Ford mojo, flying by the seat of his pants. Good times.
Graduation was really great; I loved being up at Bard again and seeing everyone, walking through the woods with my dad, and of course, cheering like crazy when my brother’s name was called. But after two days with no sleep, I’m now back in the city freaking out, because I have way too many projects at work and they all have to get done in a three day week. (Wednesday/Thursday I’m down in Washington visiting a friend, back in the office Friday, then off to see the folks for the three-day weekend.) I’ll be so freaking happy when these projects are in the bag and I can finally catch my breath and think.
Last night I watched the final ep of Angel with my friends Susan and John. I made angel food cake (heh) and Susan bought sparkling cider for a toast. Lots of fun, but really sad. I’m not going to give anything away for those of you who haven’t seen it, but I laughed out loud at how Spike spent what might have been his last day on earth. It’s depressing to think that there is no longer a single Joss Whedon show on the air; in the space of eighteen months the man’s gone from three shows to none. He’s been on TV since I was in high school.
In other jarring news, this weekend is my bro’s graduation. That means:
1. My brother is a grownup now. Actually he’s been a grownup for years now, completely blows me out of the water with his goals and ideals and way of analyzing philosophy and his wicked chess game, but I’ve been in denial.
2. I’ve actually been out of college for four years. I’m old.
3. All my old teachers are going to be grilling me about my life right in the middle of my total identity crisis. I like my job but I’m not satisfied with my life; I really want to go get my doctorate and become an English teacher, but I don’t know if that will solve my problems or just change the venue. For now, I’m just mulling it over … and over. Sigh.
I got my hair straightened. It took six or seven hours, but it’s so worth it! It’s completely straight, down to my waist, and it’s silky and pretty and it doesn’t get tangled. The place where I got it done wants to put a before and after photo of me up on their website; it’s that dramatic a difference. I was causing whiplash all the way home yesterday. The only thing is I’m not allowed to pin it back or even tuck it behind my ears for a week, because it would develop a kink, but after that I can do whatever I want. So in the mean time, I look like a flower child, but I don’t care. I can’t stop grinning.
One of my friends was looking for histories of the English monarchs, so I decided to post my favorite, written by Jane Austen at age sixteen:
THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE REIGN OF HENRY THE 4TH TO THE DEATH OF CHARLES THE 1ST BY A PARTIAL, PREJUDICED, AND IGNORANT HISTORIAN.