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?