First dates that are most likely last dates and other fun parts of my life

I'm about to take you where no middle aged adult has gone before..into my sad-but-true dating life. I may regret this considering the readership for my blog is almost exclusively family members and family friends, but we're all adults here, right? Well, not Lily. This will be G-rated, I promise.

I had a blind date tonight. As I walked toward my date, late of course and attempting to add heel pads to my shoes as I walked (quite a feat if I do say so myself) (also, punny!), I willed myself to exude confidence and charm and not sweat. Willing attractiveness into existence over the course of a twenty minute walk, not an easy task. While I was doing mental sit-ups and thinking pretty thoughts, someone in a car pulled over by the curb, rolled down their window and said something I couldn’t quite make out. Thinking he needed directions, I stopped like the good citizen I am and asked him to repeat, and he yelled, “I said, hey there pretty lady!” Ah. Well timed, random-guy-who-feels-entitled-to-comment-on-a-stranger’s-appearance. Well timed. Confident that my strategy was working, I sailed onward through Hahvahd Yahd toward my date.

For those of you who have been significant-othered for the last 10-30 years, I'll review how first dates go. First dates have three awkward parts. Always. Especially if you don't know the person at all. 

1. The Approach: Is that him? Does he see me over here? Does he know it's me? I know, I'll text him that I'm here and I'll know it's him when he pulls out his phone. Ok that should be him. 90% chance it's him. Everyone now seems to be pulling out their phones. (seriously consider backing out slowly now) oh he sees me now. shoot. (over-enthusiastic greeting!!!)

2. The Bill: Split down the middle: I will hate you forever. I ordered a side salad and there is no way in hell I am paying for half your steak, terrible carnivore man. You pay the whole thing: Great on a feeling-broke day, even better on an actually-broke day, sexist on all other days. I pay the whole thing: Not on your life. A cold day in hell. Pigs fly, etc. We pay for ourselves: excellent in theory but awkward in practice. Um, do you have change for a twenty? Are you sure you added yours correctly? We're a few dollars short on tip so... There is no good way to settle this bill business. I often leave to go to the bathroom just as the check is arriving so that the other person is forced to make the decision. I know what payment method we're using by how much money is on the table when I get back. I'm a great date.    

3. The Good-bye: Handshake? This was not a business meeting. Kiss? Not happening. Loose, brief hug followed by the vague promise of a text? Always.

I'll spare you the details of our conversation, but I can say that it went much better than my last first date, in which my date asked me about my dating history, my five-year plan, my intentions for this relationship, and whether or not I would go out with him again, all before my drink arrived. Whoa there buddy, my only plan is to have this drink and watch Gilmore Girls before I go to sleep. One day at a time. 

Summer in the City

Living and working in American cities always makes me feel like I'm in a movie. A sepia-toned indie musical movie. I'm walking along brick sidewalks in my pencil skirt with my metro card in hand, feeling ready to teach the word to sing. The man selling a street paper waves at me as I hum some slightly obscure folk-rock song about love and look into the window of the organic local gluten-free humanely-raised shade-grown fair-trade worker-owned cafe.  Friendly multi-cultural children talk with passersby out the windows of school buses. Babies are doing yoga on the lawn across from the post office. Ahh. Summer in the city. Well, summer in Cambridge, at least. Summer in that nice part of Cambridge on sunny but not too hot days when everyone is in a decent mood and there's a long weekend coming up.

It actually gets a little bit ridiculous in its perfection sometimes. Take tonight, for example. First I came home to my lovely roommates cleaning the house like the seven dwarfs, quite literally whistling while they worked. Then I met up with a co-worker and walked to a ukulele jam session close to Harvard Square. Yes, it's exactly what you're picturing. There were about 75 people gathered outside singing and playing old songs on the ukulele in unison. If that's not the definition of hippie paradise I don't know what is. After that we ate frozen yogurt (practically a requirement on a warm night...or any night...or anytime you're within walking distance of a froyo place. I may or may not spend the majority of my food budget on froyo. Once a fat kid, always a fat kid.). We were leaving to walk back to our apartments when we happened to pass by a street performance put on by none other than my roommate and his musician friends. And not just any street performance-this was a whole group of awesome musicians who took turns performing and had amps and microphones and cool lighting. When these things happen I feel like I must be in my own personal version of the Truman show. This is not real life.

And then someone or something helpfully brings me back down to earth. Thank you, sirens 8 times a day. Thank you, gigantic rat attempting to burrow into my basement. Thank you, insect infestation in my kitchen. Thank you, 95 degrees and 80% humidity when I am air conditioning-free at home AND at work. You'll never know how much you are appreciated. 

If all goes according to not-well-thought-out plan, future blog posts should feature blind dating, New York City, Cape Cod, and maybe even that thing I spend 40 hours a week doing. Stay tuned!

Inspiration for the title of this blog post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMq8qc9NxfQ

Escape from the hostel

Since the last blog post I have moved into my new apartment, my first apartment ever! My last night in the hostel I sat across the room from a girl who had a giant hair clip on her lips and burst out laughing about every ten seconds. Wondering what could make this strange girl laugh so hard, I looked at the reflection of her computer screen on the window behind her and saw that she was just watching the Scooby Doo theme song over and over. It was time to leave.

My journey to the apartment involved a group of Irish guys helping me carry my suitcases to the T (metro) and then making my way onto a bus whose driver had  an extreme case of road rage, angry that there were other cars on the road and passengers on his bus. How dare we exist in his presence. I dragged my stuff to my apartment and was relieved to find it located in a lovely neighborhood. I'm on the first floor of the building, which looks more like a house than an apartment building. My bed and my room are almost exactly the same size, but I wouldn't have use for more space anyway. It seems right for a first apartment. My friend Eliza came over to see the place and took some photos to commemorate the occasion, which will definitely go in the slide show of my life or in those color pages in the middle of my biography.


First day at my first apartment!


Everything I own in Boston. Couches and boxes do not belong to me. It's basically just that one suitcase.

I'm trying to get the most out of my time here while still living on a tight budget, so I'm well on my way to becoming an expert in how to do fun things for free in Boston. In the past week I have visited the Museum of Fine Arts (fabulous), taken a drawing class, and taken a yoga class all for free! I missed free movie night because I went out with my co-workers to celebrate the summer solstice. It takes a bit of time to find things to do for cheap but I've had some practice from my time in Washington D.C.

Whenever I'm not out exploring I'm watching Downton Abbey, which I've quickly become addicted to. I keep feeling like I need to quickly watch all the shows and read all the books that I didn't have time for during the school year before the next school year starts, but then I realize that there is no school year anymore-I'm going to have time to do the things I want to do indefinitely! This adult thing takes some getting used to.

The East Coast Wandering Begins

At the request of my parents I am going to post occasionally about my adventures this summer in Boston, where I'm interning at the Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti. Consider this your birthday present Mom and Dad! Mostly kidding about that...you'll still get a card. Possibly.

 So I'm only a few days into my time on the East Coast (I arrived on Saturday), but I've already experienced the two extremes of Massachusetts tourism. My efforts to make friends with people who live in fabulous locations continue to pay off splendidly: One of my good friends from St. Olaf invited me down to Cape Cod, where she lives in a BEAUTIFUL house with a sprawling backyard and a garden that is more like a small farm.

More care-free times

After spending one short, glorious night and day basking in the sun and eating gourmet food on the Cape, my friend and her father generously drove me all the way to my hostel (we got pulled over along the way for accidentally cutting off a police officer and then got a lecture on respect for authority-must everything be an adventure?), where I'm currently experiencing what might be described as the exact opposite of the Cape. There are no locks on the bathroom doors and my five roommates come in and out at all times of the night, but who's complaining?

 I've been confusing everyone here by wearing a shirt that says "stand for justice in Haiti" in Haitian Creole, causing people to squint at me and hesitate before speaking in English. There's a woman from Shanghai in my dorm room, and I nearly gave her a heart attack when I asked her a question in Mandarin yesterday. She started convulsing and rolling around on her bed, shaking with laughter, bringing back fond memories of my disastrous internship in Shanghai last year. Oh, hostel life. How I have missed you.

While I've been here I've already added a few new things to my "goals for post-college life list," which obviously breaks down goals into daily, weekly, and monthly tasks. Don't you know me at all? In addition to "attain upper-body strength" and "learn to meditate" (well on my way to both!), I have now added "grow thick skin." Not literally-although I suppose that would be helpful for the mosquito problem...

While the vast majority of the people in Boston have been very nice and helpful, quite a few have not been so welcoming. In only a few days I have been admonished multiple times for giving wishy-washy answers to questions. Bostonian: Is this the train to South Station? Me: I think it is. Bostonian: You THINK it is? Or you KNOW it is? Me: erm…know. Sorry. Because basically this same conversation has already been repeated about 3 or 4 times with random strangers, I have come to understand that I’m going to need to be more assertive and direct around here. And I’m also going to need to become impervious to rudeness. By the end of this summer (or more hopefully this week) insults and harsh words are going to bounce off of me like rubber balls. Since I’ve adopted this new attitude I’ve actually started to look forward to the occasional disparaging remark or snide condescension. Bring it on Bostonians!