so, I think about food a lot

I made an unwise decision today and ate some leftovers that had been dubiously stored. By "dubious," I mean I left out a pot of red bean soup for a night. Or two. I refrigerated them eventually, but judging from the minor protestations of the stomach area, perhaps I need to be more prompt. I did throw out some questionable corn, so I'm not entirely clueless. Just susceptible to the enticing delights of ginger and garlic-spiced legumes.

My roommate and I have been pretty good at making big pots of something or other on the weekend so we have something to eat on the run throughout the work week. Sheer brilliance. And not only that, we are excellent cooks. There is no need for modesty here. We have grilled, baked zucchini bread, made enough chicken enchilada soup to feed an army, and have chilled water with cucumber slices on tap.

So much caffeine...

Today was a productive one. It's a bit surreal to gaze out over Coe's campus, and realize that all of my trials and tribulations are completely invisible to the naked eye. No visitor will ever appreciate how much work I did today for the news section of the student newpaper (I'm section editor!), the V-Day campaign, my thesis, starting up an eco-house, or creating an endowment for students to present their research at conferences.

Not to mention homework.

And feeding myself.

It's 11:00 and I've been going non-stop since I woke up. Good thing I don't do what I do so random passersby will appreciate it. I feel ridiculously proud of myself for getting everything done.

I do still need to clean my room though. Perhaps wash some dishes. No one is superman.

Super-person?

So lucky

By that I mean you, readers. It was a very tough decision, and I was bitter for a while, but I stayed in today.

Gasp.

I know, I know, it's New York City, I'm a fool to let a day go by without spending an hour or two pounding pavement, pretending I'm the only one on the street, hoping I'm heading in the direction I think I'm going in (at one point, I meant to go to washington street park, but ended up at the Brooklyn Bridge. Apparently my west is everyone else's east).

I'm trying to make up for not leaving the apartment by watching the City University New York channel while I frantically try and get prepared for college tomorrow.

I don't even have a notebook yet. But I know how to get to Williamsburg from Park Slope!

This has been a great week. For all my grousing (aka justifications for having to stay in to work out college kinks), I don't regret a single day. Seeing the Nica buddies was excellent, although the only pictures I have to remember our reunion are rather blurry...

Anyway, I had a convo with David (who has graciously lent me his couch for the duration of my stay here) about whether or not I could live in New York. He'll probably live here for the rest of his life, but I have reservations. There's nothing to write that doesn't fall into the city/country cliche-o-rama, so you can just imagine how it went without me rolling out all the tiresome "yes, but"s all over again.

And now...Coe. I think it's a good sign that I work on my thesis even without realizing it. Today, I found a free range, grass fed, organic meat farm right in Cedar Rapids! I channeled my mom's shopper energies and bought FRGFO ground beef, bacon, hot dogs, bratwurst, and a chicken.

I will need lessons on how to carve up the chicken. But I have found a meat source I ethically support. And all it took was a few minutes with Google.

I will say this: my hometown has almost nothing nearby except berry picking farms and beekeepers. New York City has considerably larger selection. In fact, I just made a stir fry from veggies I bought at a Farmer's Market down the street!

The rice, ginger, and soy sauce were from a mysterious corporate source. You can't have everything.

Technology?

Back in Grapids

I've got to admit, I like the way home smells. I thought I could still sense pine needles from Christmas, maybe chili powder and ginger (dad's favorite ingredients), definitely the dog's ear medicine, maybe some chlorophyll from mom's plants... who knows what the sum of it is, but it's a good smell.

Other than that, I've perfected the art of the sloth. Not that it's hard to do, that's the whole point. Small, 5 minute tasks manage to go undone for days on end, because I'm more interested in watching an entire season of House in a single day. My Fulbright application is currently no more than a bookmark on my Firefox toolbar, and my letter to grandpa, written a month ago, has yet to be mailed.

But even if it is just House, it's nice to spend hours focused on a single purpose. College tends to consist of me finishing homework assignments from 5 different classes while fitting in my two jobs, various meetings, and the drama that always arises when a few hundred students stew in their own juices for three months at a college that resists most attempts to live off-campus.

Still, if I keep at this for much longer, I'll risk losing all the neuron connections I am going to need to survive next year.

Labradoodle: part labrador, part poodle

Lessons Learned

I had assumed that, since I had mastered bus routes in both England and Nicaragua, I could handle the Twin Cities transit system. Turns out that I had not quite made the distinction between rural routes and the urban ones. For example:

+ Always check to make sure you are going in the right direction (or you end up in the Minneapolis U of M campus rather than the St. Paul capitol building).

+ Turns out that buses from multiple routes can stop at the same bus stops. Therefore, determine that you are not only on the right side of the road, but also boarding the #3, not the #62L which takes you to a strip mall on the south side of Rice St.

+ Asking people for help does not result in a blank stare or the phrase, "oh...I was hoping you could help me..."

Every time I'm on a twin city bus, I imagine what a Nicaraguan might think. The buses aren't old schoolbus models, the air doesn't reek of fresh onions or cheese, and I have yet to spend any amount of time jammed next to the driver because there's not even room to move, let alone available seats.

The price of a ride may be an issue, but you can always ask for transfer tickets. The climate might be worrisome for some, but they all have fully functioning heating systems. There is one downside: no snacks. Every bus driver on the country routes I took had deals with women selling corn on the cob, cornbread, juice, water, candy, cigarettes, you name it. They would get on a stop, walk up and down the bus to sell their goods, then get off at the next one and do it all over again. I got the feeling that it was one big intricate dance, played out day after day, with the exact same characters each time, and if I could stay for just a bit longer, I could figure out the pattern. That's really all I wanted to do during my research project--figure out the patterns. But I highly doubt they would let a frail looking, pale gringa in on their dance.

I won't miss the music. Clear Channel may broadcast worthless music, but at least the drivers preserve our eardrums.

Real life.

I'm starting to learn how to cook again. How to pour milk from a carton rather than an industrial stainless steel cooler. That spaghetti needs a full pot of water or it will congeal into a singularity of gluten--not exactly the thank you present I wanted to give Dennis and Molly, family friends who are letting me sleep in their basement while I live in the twin cities.

I've also been drinking more cran-grape juice, but it tastes too much like communion, so I feel that I will soon desist.

The capitol is a lot like an episode of the office. Well, no one is quite as embarrasing as Michael, but Andy is here. Dwight too.

Spare Time

I do college backwards. I'm busiest at the beginning of the semester, worried about homework, scheduling out how I will proceed writing papers, making sure I do all my assigned readings and making complete notes. Then the end of semester arrives, and I'm done. I'm ready to spend an entire day picnicking, but all my friends are freaking out about their projects, presentations, and final exams. I would like to feel superior to them, but really this just adds up to missing out on all the fun for the entire semester. I am so out of sync.

Yesterday was the first real spring day. I wore flip flops and everything. I spent the morning in the most efficient budget and finance meeting this campus has ever seen. Then I went out to play Ultimate Frisbee. At first, I wasn't that excited. But as I started running around, catching and throwing the frisbee, it was excellent. It is important to note that I caught the frisbees. And I was also able to throw them to other people who were also able to catch them. Not bad. The BSEO house had chili and brownies, so I went over and caught up with some friends who live there. (The brownies were excellent. The chili looked good, but it had steak in it, so I did not partake)

I spent the rest of the day reading about dragons out on the lawn with some friends. It was warm out, and the sunlight looked great. I didn't have a camera on me, which is disappointing. None of us went inside until it was impossible to read and we were starting to get goosebumps. Some made spicy nachos, to general celebration.

Puddles and Worms

They're everywhere. Stretched out, crisscrossing, rivers of wormy flesh. The air smells like dead worms. It's excessive.

The quads are pools in miniature. The earth has absorbed all it plans to.

I spent most of today wishing to go back to Thailand. Eat a bowl of pineapple-fried rice. Go talk to some monks during their English hour.

Or England. Walk a mountain ridge with sheep for company and a map that isn't helping.

It's odd to think that classes will be over next week. The weather is perpetually March-like. But May will be fun. I'm hoping to live in the twin cities and work with my state senator as some sort of intern. I can explore dinkytown, grand ave, Hmong restaurants, the art park. Ahh....the art park.

Vagina Warriors

Highlights of Superlove in New Orleans:

+ Tambourine Lady. A member of the Mahalia Jackson Choir who can play the tambourine with more spirit than I ever thought possible. Very inspiring, and definitely a show stealer.
+ Jane Fonda
+ Eve Ensler
+ Slam poet Alix Olson
+ Poet Lenelle Moise
+ Excellent speakers who brought attention to women's issues in the Congo, Native American populations, New Orleans, the Middle East, etc.
+ Yelling "cunt" in four different languages in the New Orleans Arena during the Vagina Monologues production
+ The giant bra ball in the entrance to the Superdome (photo to come)
+ Throwing plastic bead necklaces to passersby on Bourbon Street
+ Chugging hot and sour soup at the entrance to the Arena after being told we couldn't bring in food, bottles, or very large backpacks
+ Sensing my political leanings shift even further to the left

Not really.

I meet at 4:00 today to talk to Karla, cook for the Field Station, about being cook's assistant. I'm the only applicant, so I'm fairly certain this is going to work out. My suitcase shall contain as many books as possible, my swimsuit, bug spray, and running shoes.

Life is monotonous. Study breaks cease to be justified. The thermometer refuses to rise past 54. Solution? New Orleans. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. Seriously. It's the 10th anniversary of the play Vagina Monologues, and it's going to be big. It's a 2 day extravaganza of vagina love. A bit overwhelming. The time is long overdue to actually look at the schedule of events and figure it all out.

But most of all...I hear spring is actually happening in Louisiana. I'm bringing flip-flops.

Other news? I spent the last two weeks thinking about the possibility of taking another semester abroad, this time to Washington D.C. Eventually, I decided to stay here for my final year. I want to get more involved with the environmental group on campus, and find one to volunteer with in the Cedar Rapids area. I want to go to Dr. Bob's WC orientations, and meet all the freshmen consultants. I want to live in an apartment. Work with the DFL as the election heats up. Take my last Honors class with Professor Burke, a legend of a History teacher. Essentially, there's more to accomplish at Coe, and I need more time to do it. So, Washington DC will have to wait until after college. By then, I'll hopefully have enough sustainable development background to have a fighting chance for a paid internship.

Ok, I won't bore anybody with my 5 year plan. I'm just going to put this D.C. idea behind me and start planning with Liz how our apartment will look next year. For those who don't know, it was extremely difficult to get the on-campus housing you wanted this year. The freshmen class is apparently huge, so many rooms were reserved for them. The apartments were crazy competitive this year, to the point that many seniors are looking into off-campus housing. It's nuts. So my two bedroom apartment with just one other roommate is prime.

Snow on Easter Afternoon

Yesterday, I went to Iowa City with some friends. The six of us squeezed into a 5-seater, and began our journey by visiting Cedar Rapid's CSPS, which currently was showing four of Robert Wilson's Voom portraits.

I didn't really know what to expect by the portraits, but they're amazing. The portraits are live action, on some excellent and enormous digital TV screens. The actors on screen move, but very slowly. If you were just passing by, they would just look like a picture. But the videos are on a 20-25 minute loop as the actors move deliberately and slowly, sometimes as someone narrates in the background, sometimes with just music. In one, the world's championship sumo wrestler sits, wearing nothing but his sumo uniform, and slowly smiles. Slowly releases the smile. In another, a woman lays on a divan while a speech by Einstein plays in the background (I don't remember all of it, but it involves a dream about going grocery shopping, and only swimming caps were for sale, and then talk of the oceans). The woman clenches her hand, over the course of the speech. When her hand has clenched completely, she opens her eyes. It is the only time during the loop that she has her eyes open.

The portraits were a bit creepy, but striking. Maybe creepy just means I had nothing to compare it to. Anyway, the rest are in Iowa City, so we initiated step two of our plan: Iowa City. The Museum of Art turned out to be closed, so we moved onto our next step: David's Place. I had gone there as a freshman, and loved it. So I was pretty excited for another go around. It was wonderful. Tea, spongy bread, spicy red lentils, potatoes....mmmm..... we feasted. Afterwards, we had dessert and coffee in a nearby cafe, then returned to Cedar Rapids.

I was just in time for the musical, 3 Penny Opera. I liked it, except for when I couldn't understand the lyrics. That gets tricky. But the music sounded great, the set looked wonderful, and the timing of the acting (especially the gags) were usually spot on. I don't claim to be much of a theater critic, but I think they can be proud of that production.

Today was Easter. I spent most of the day at work, watching the snow fall. Of all things. A co-worker gave me a couple boiled eggs her grandkids had decorated, exactly the food I had been thinking about. It's a holiday tradition. If I am not home to make them or look for them, at least I can eat the finished product. So good.

Next weekend, Senate is having Tomasos Pizza. I'm making extra sure my schedule remains open for this.

Spring break in Iowa

There's nothing like a week devoid of all the regular distractions to make you feel somehow purified yet somewhat... incomplete. It was especially odd living in my dorm room while classes weren't in session.

I had decided to stay at Coe because it would be easier to get ahead on my homework, and I could work extra hours at my job. I will be in either Turkey or China this summer, so I need as much money as possible. So I stocked up on spaghetti and yogurt, and commenced.

The best part (or the worst, depending on your point of view) was that everyone with a car had used them to drive home, or to Chicago, or San Francisco (they had no idea what they were missing, obviously). So I did a lot of walking, and made some pretty great discoveries of downtown CR.

The Saigon Market, for one. I didn't go inside, but I have heard positive reviews of the Asian commodities available in the store. It's conveniently located next to Phong Lan, a Vietnamese restaurant. I took a friend there on Saturday, and it was delicious.

Waypoint. Not sure why I'm happy to have found this particular resource for women in need. I think I'd like to volunteer there. Being within walking distance is definitely a plus.

The Cedar Rapids Public Library. I went there for a International Women's Day Diversity workshop. Its less than a block from where I work, hidden behind corporate art and the Greyhound bus station. I'm going back today actually, thanks to a tip from a coworker that even though I didn't make any taxable wages last year, I can still fill out a tax form and get a stimulus package (little do they know, I'm planning on spending it in China). The workshop was alright. I think I might have learned some new things, who knows.

The Universe. A bar which advertises drag shows.

A dilapidated three story house, ivy covering the walls, broken window panes covered with wood, except for one that may have had curtains, or pieces of colored glass. It had a name over the front porch, most of the letters ready to fall off: "The Palace." (note to self: bring my camera along more often)

I suppose it's because this area is in between two major hospitals in town, but I found countless doctor's offices throughout here. One stairway that goes nowhere (the house attached to it must have been torn down), several empty lots, one office divided into two parts. One half was a real estate agency, the other was empty. A sign by the same real estate agency said it was for sale. I doubt that's the best way to advertise yourself, if you can't even sell the office right next to you.

Iowa landscape is really hard to photograph. You need a wide angle lens to really show the long, low, horizon lines. My camera really won't cut it. I was up fairly early in the morning to cover some shifts at work (one started at 6:00, another at 7:30). It's almost like being in a ghost town. Stray off of first avenue, and the empty lots are ubiquitous, the gaping storefronts lining the street, still with 50s-esque signs in the windows. Something in me wants to claim The Palace for my own. Squat there, start restoring it to some of its former glory (I would keep the lettering out front as is). The houses on either side of it had long since been torn down, and it faces that real estate confusion I mentioned before. Almost like it's the locus of orphaned buildings.

I hope this doesn't sound like I felt lonely over break. There were a few times where the solitude got a bit oppressive, but on the whole, I liked puttering around on my own, having my own schedule, getting things accomplished (Professor Barrow isn't going to know what hits her when I hand in all my response papers and microcase assignments. Hehehe).

Also, I've decided on a thesis topic. I want to cover current efforts to create wilderness areas, as well as some background info on what legislation is in place to help or hinder that, court decisions, and some philosophical inquiries into what wilderness is, and if creating these areas are justified (Dad, I might need your help). I'm excited. Maybe I can do some "research" in Ely. Hm. Hmmm....

Exploding tonsils and Applesauce

My tonsils and I have an interesting history. A few years ago, they first demonstrated their ability to make my life miserable just before a trip to Mexico (and by that I mean a mission trip I didn't want to go to in the first place, so.... thanks God?). To this day, the best explanation I ever got was "tonsillitis." It wasn't an abscess (as I painfully found out in the Duluth hospital), nor strep throat, nor mono. But I did lose the ability to talk. I also discovered codeine makes me vomit. On the upside, Dad and I bonded for that week. Mom and Laura were in Mexico, and I needed someone to make me blended food and other such delightful things.

My next reminder of tonsil existence was the return flight to Nicaragua. A sore throat turned into a swollen throat. Changes in air pressure through 3 connections did not help. People gave me a wide berth as I looked more and more miserable, and (as I heard later from my 11 year old cousin) rather....odoriferous. This time, it was strep throat, so I spent three days in St. Paul with my uncle, chowing down on ibuprofen and watching action movies. One tonsil refused to return to normal size.

And then can this weekend. A sore throat turned into excruciating pain. No strep throat. I was prescribed a salt water gargle by the college nurse. Hmm. For some reason, I decide to cover someone else's 8 hour shift. I spend it eating double dosages of high strength Excedrin. I know Kyle has Vicodin, but I have too much pride to ask (and he was never in his room. But still...lots of pride). Walking to work on Saturday, I cry. Walking back from work, I cry. I spend the rest of the day eating applesauce and benadril in Clarissa's room, who also makes me soup, crackers, and milk. I am pleased, but still in incredible amounts of pain.

And then...Sunday morning... I take a sip of water, and something...pops. My mouth is flooded with pus, blood, and mucus. The pain leaves almost immediately, and I rejoice in the bathroom, spitting out my left tonsil's excrement. Although the discomfort is gone, I decide it's not worth going to work. After eating an omelet in the caf (delicious and pain free!) , Clarissa and Bailey tell me I should probably go to the hospital. After meeting a rapid succession of roughly 7 nurses and doctors, all with their own specialty (to woman who fills out the form on the computer, the other woman who draws blood, the man who feels my tonsils with very little warning, etc), I am prescribed penicillin, steroids, and painkillers.

Danielle and I make a trip to Hy-Vee for applesauce, milk, soup, and drugs. The drugs only cost $19.99, and the soup is on sale: 8 for $10. The Mediterranean food at the Writing Center party that night tastes delicious. I do nothing all day except glory in my fully functioning mastication system.

Still. Tonsils. Why?

February is far too eventful

Happy:
Chinese New Year
Vietnamese New Year
Korean New Year
Lent
Black History Month
Valentine's Day
Groundhog Day
Abraham Lincoln's Birthday
President's Day
George Washington's Birthday

I'm not exactly sure how I plan on celebrating all these things. Listen to patriotic music with ash on my forehead, a stuffed groundhog under one arm and a 4th grade style "You're 'beary' cute" card in the other? Maybe some small denomination Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese currency to hand out as good luck gifts? Read The Invisible Man?

Overwhelming. Maybe I'll just take a nap.

My inner nostrils are frozen

Among other interesting things.

I am experiencing a strange shift in perception. It was incremental, not altogether foreseen, and I am perhaps slightly sheepish.

Caf food=good.

Now, don't get riled up. There's a lot behind this statement. First of all, this is the only time in my life where guaranteed food, of various varieties, is less than a 5 minute walk from my domicile. Second, I never have to prepare the food myself, which means it never gets burnt, rotten, rancid, or moldy. Third, I pay for the merest fraction of the actual cost, thanks to Coe's hefty endowment.

This philosophy has extended to the rest of campus, where I enjoy convenient computer access, ample heating, a library is just outside my "apartment," three low intensity part time jobs that don't make me go insane, and of course all the deep thoughts whirling through the air. This is a truly odd part of my life.

In other news, the temperature has reached record lows. Literally. This is the coldest Cedar Rapids has been since they started measuring the temperature. Frostbite is a possibility.

Yet we manage to keep our spirits up. Select individuals from 9th floor Murray and associates could be seen romping in the snow last Saturday night, as well as engaging in the making of snow angels and possible allusions to whirling dervishes. At one point, said associates were joined by fellow rompers leaving Peterson Hall. I kid you not, we joined hands in brotherhood and we spun. Semi-heathen rituals have never been so enjoyable.

Rocketships and Masking Tape

I tapped into my inner child this weekend. Select members of 9th floor Murray had an early breakfast of waffles and ice cream before beginning an epic journey of cardboard mastery. I will say our rocketship (The Darling Clementine) was a success, as long as you keep in mind nostalgic memories of childhood architecture. One of the fins, stabilized by cardboard ribs and wishful thinking, succumbed to gravity. The booster however was a resounding success, as well as the cockpit.

This all began when I finished moving in everything that had been dormant for over a year in the Coe College storage facility. It was odd to see what I thought was necessary to save (empty CD cases, scraps of paper, Judy Garland stickers...), and a bit distressing to remember what I had in fact left at home (bedsheets). However, one of the boxes was big enough for 9th floor's rocketship dreams.

Classes are stimulating. My Intro to Political Science class is frightfully large. And I turned in my Turkey application, although I won't hear anything until late March. It's a bit anticlimatic (Whoopee...).

Hardcoreitude

flakes
Today's my first at college. It's been fairly underwhelming. Nothing is all that surprising, except that I don't know anyone. All my friendswere upperclassmen, and they've either graduated or hid themselves away in the apartments. Hell, I don't even know my roommate. She seems nice though. AND has a hello kitty toaster. Which I am allowed to use. Rockin'.

I've already had a memorable day. I went to my old job (its premises anyway) and re-applied. I found out beforehand that the Environmental Club lets students rent out bikes for free. So I took advantage of this opportunity to enjoy the warm January air by a faster mode of transportation than foot. And I could feel superior to all those air-haters in their automobiles. Mom had called me just before and asked me if it was sleeting. I scoffed. "It's gorgeous out mom, you're being ridiculous."

As I wheeled the bike onto 1st Ave however, the sky let loose. Enormous wet flakes whipped my face while I biked the mile over to the URrelay building, feeling even more superior than I did before.

For those who don't know (which is probably pretty much everyone who reads this blog), my New Year's Resolution is to buy nothing new for the entire year. Exceptions are:

* Medicine and Medical Attention (that isn't optional, like Botox)
* Food
* Cleaning supplies (detergent, deoderant, etc)

Everything else, I will just convince myself I don't need or I will shop at second hand stores. The idea is that I stop thinking as a consumer, as well as reducing the carbon trail of most of my goods.

Another recent change is I've become vegetarian. I'm anemic, so I'm not sure how this will work out. I'll probably binge on a steak once I start getting too lethargic. One Marie Hunt has purchased a small grill that can be used in a dorm room, apparently, so we're planning on getting organic steaks when the need arises. She is also cutting back on meat, but for completely different reasons.

Anyway, I'm officially a hippie. Hippie 2.0. Of course, like most suburbian hippies, I'm probably contradicting myself completely without even knowing it (Lattes are a food.....).