Ramble On

I cringed a little as I wrote the title for this blog.  But I think it's the correct one.  In college, my very sweet roommate, still a close friend, brought the movie "A Walk to Remember" with her on DVD.  Now, in your freshman year of college, your first time living on your own, your little area in your dorm room has a way of becoming a first form of independent self-expression.  At least, that's how it was for me.  My first time living on my own, dorms where people come in and out all the time, I wanted my space to SAY something about me.  And I figured it was the same for other people.  And I had talked to my roommate on the phone before I went and I knew she was going to be super nice and respectful and I was so excited to meet her!  When move-in day arrived, we unloaded and moved in the sweltering humidity to our tiny dorm room, meant for two but housing three people that year, with no A/C.  Eventually when we had our own areas ...

When I was a sophomore in college, I visited one of my best friends who was in school at Loyola New Orleans. I made sure to time my visit to him during Mardi Gras because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  I can't think of worse accomodations I have experienced.  They were cheap, because I was just a guest of my friend, but I was in suite-style dorm room of 4 college guys who lived in various states of filth.  My friend, Brian, fortunately, had a girlfriend at the time so I got to sleep in his bed and he would stay with her.  And he had a fairly clean room.  But the common areas were...not great. What follows are bullet points I wrote down during the trip and I will try to piece together memories and stories from these bullet points and expand on them as I'm able to, decades later. Day 1  I arrive in New Orleans and take a cab from the airport.  We all meet at Brian's dorm and hang out for a bit. Two other girls who we knew from hig...

In preparation for this past weekend, episodes of MTV's "reality" show Jersey Shore came to mind. Mostly what kept popping into my head was that sound byte from the opening credits where Snooki yells, probably to no one in particular, "We're going to Jersey Shore, BITCH!". What happened this last weekend on the Jersey Shore was restoring and draining, gorgeous and ugly, challenging and easy as pie, or rather, donut.  This is my tale of the Gentlemen of the Road Stopover in Seaside Heights, NJ. My tickets for this musical event were purchased with little other thought than 1) I know people in Jersey, 2) Mumford and Sons are playing within a semi-reasonable distance for the first time in 2 years.  I bought two tickets lickety split and the rest fell into place gradually over the next three months. Within about a month, MandS had booked a show at a local venue, albeit one that I hate, but I was still very happy with my decision to drive 4 hours instead of 1 t...

I can't count how many times I've uttered the phrase "the only good thing to come out of New Jersey is Bruce Springsteen", but it's not a small number.  Admittedly, Bruce Springsteen is an incredibly redeeming force.  He makes a lot of things that could otherwise be bad, good.  But after this past weekend, I noticed that my view of New Jersey is changing. The Boss holding Long Branch, NJ close to his heart.   When in the course of Karla events, it becomes necessary to visit a place many times, without ever really wanting to go there, I start asking questions.  Why here? Why so many times? What am I supposed to do with my long and unsought relationship with this specific locale? My 15-year history with New Jersey starts with my high school/college love.  His family moved there after he graduated high school and it became a place for which I subconsciously pined during the summers.  He was spending most of his year just outside of Philadelphia at...

One week ago, I was on a plane flying to Las Vegas, NV to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of a dear friend from college.  One week ago I lived in a different apartment than the one I'm writing from now.  And one week ago, it was Lent, and now it's the Triduum, almost Easter.  It's been such a huge week that I can barely believe I'm almost through it and that so much has happened in such a short amount of time.  I feel like I need to capture it somehow, so the best I can do is write to try and recollect. So we'll start at the beginning of the week. I'm not really a Vegas kind of girl.  I own things with sparkles, but I never find occasion to wear them since I stopped doing things on New Years Eve that don't involve pajamas.  I don't generally like places where the only thing to do when you get there is to constantly spend more money.  Everything about Vegas is the promise of money, the chance of glory, the seduction of glamour, and the brightly-lit ...

Waking up for the last full day of our trip was bittersweet.  It was a gray day in Montreal and even raining a bit.  We went for a run through Mount Royal Park where the fall colors were gorgeous against the gray sky. I always think of my mom when the weather is like that.  She says its her favorite: a cool, even chilly gray day when the leaves are all at peak color. We packed up and then headed to a Bagel Cafe to get some authentic Montreal Bagels .  They were DELICIOUS. So after carb-loading and a hot drink, we drove out of Montreal, across the bridge, and into the U.S. of A.  Burlington, VT is very close to Montreal and so we were there before much had happened.  Didn't stop us from going to a local brew pub, getting some craft beer, ordering more food, and then walking through the town in search of souvenirs and local charm.  Burlington is even more college-y than most college towns, and even though there were gray skies and a chilly wind, we ha...