Two Weeks Notice

The bus driver waved, and I started crying.

Jim is one of the best people you may ever come across. He smiles, he knows your name and he knows it's your neon coat hustling across campus to make the bus--- and waits.

Today was my last day at school in Vermont. There's a lot of technicalities, but the long and short of it, is that I'm a St. Mike's Alum. The week seemed to be going okay, sauntering by and being gone before I knew it, much like the sunlight on a brisk Burlington day in December. And then it was gone.

I woke up today at 7:27. Right before the alarm, good work Jen. Except I had set the clock for 7:45. Oh well. I stayed in bed, motionless and thinking about things. I was up by 8, eager and dreadfully nervous at the same time.

Everything seemed to go wrong, but I made it to my 9 o'clock final, 5 minutes early. Matty and I bantered a bit, did the damn thing and busted out. I went around campus to return books and leave a few notes to some VIPs, and was off to pack my final bags into the car.

There are some moments that should be kept to the people I had them with. They will always be cherished and they will always mean the world. Always.

But one moment was unexpected, unexplainable and still rattles me.

I was at the light that turns into campus, in the left lane. The bus always rides on the right, waiting for the light to turn so it could swing into campus for the lucky bastards who had a 1pm final. I was creeping up next to the bus, craning my neck up and out the passenger window when I saw the waving hand. It was Jim's. And there was his smiling, sunglassed face, with the same defined look of pure happiness that I won't ever forget.

And then it hit me.

I am sad to leave the place, but most importantly the people. The moments. The professors who passed me based on my efforts and not my tests. The awkwardly cute freshman boy who would always hold the door. The people who I met at orientation- who still said hello and knew my name. The people like Jim who made it all worth my while.

I will miss you.

It's an unexplainable feeling. I am being selfish, but I need to be. I want so badly to do this for myself, but there are so many good things that have brought me to this point. I loved and hated all the hugs. I loathed the words "I'm never going to see you again." I am not dead. I am not sick. I am making a change and it has consequences. It has new rules. It is a new game and I must play it accordingly- with 100% of myself.

So here's to the hugs. The handshakes. The tears that streamed down as I shut the door behind so many of you, slumping against the wall and maintaining the silence.

I carry your hearts with me, I carry them in my heart.

6.5 Billion

11. I got ELEVEN days left in Vermont, and it's just hitting me. There's so much to do, so much to avoid, and so much to pack! So much to absorb. Whether it's moments or drinks with friends, here's to surviving.

I still have pretty mixed emotions about the event. There are people here that mean the world to me, people who make me laugh on a daily basis, people who pick me up when I fall off of chairs, hide my lul-moments at the Halloween dance, people who push me into randos at parties I don't want to be at. There's people who physically eat my homework, and people who stick Steven's Pass stickers all over my shit. People I go on plutonic dates with, people I survive early morning classes with. These are my people.

And I'm leaving them.

Sure there are new people to call my friends, and people I have yet to meet, a whole nother 6.5Billion or something if we want to get specific. And I won't know anything about them until I get out and try to meet them.

Regardless, the people on the EC are unlike any other. We're tough, we have to be. We have to have faith in the uncertain.The snow forecast. The Red Sox. The morning commute. We never know when the good will come, but we hold true to the moment when it will.

I never thought of myself as the type who would leave the East. I thought it'd be my place. Ski in the winter, beach in the summer. Sure the West has those things too-- it's just different.

There isn't even a Dunkin' Donuts in Utah.

Call me crazy. I think I might be.

ain't too frustrated.

Secret's Out

So as people have been slowly hearing, the rumors are true. This pure-bred east coast girl will be picking up and moving to the 801, also known as Salt Lake City, Utah, starting classes there January 5th. While I've got a little more than a month before I depart, there's still tons to do.

It was a tough choice to make, and is currently still catching people by surprise. It seems like most ECers are either born jonesin' to run, or get their feet stuck in Maine's sand, Vermont's snow or Syracuse's mud. I guess I just seemed like the type who'd stay stuck.

This year I turned twenty and I knew I needed something different. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but after a trip to Utah with the lovely Adria , I knew that I might be able to get stuck there for a little bit.

I'm scared as hell but stoked as well, as there is so much to explore between here and Syracuse. Just like Moving Mixtapes says, maybe it's time to get up, get out, get SOMETHING. And I'm ready.

I feel extremely bad that I didn't tell people as I made this choice, but it was just something I had to do. When your feet are teetering on the edge, you can't blink before you jump. The scary part isn't the jumping-- it's getting caught.

So before I leave, I need 50 East Coast Things To Do Before I PEACE. Any and all ideas are welcome. I'll start.. but post up some more good ones!

1) Eat at the Dinosaur BBQ.

2) Ski Toggenburg as much as possible.

3) Take pictures with the windmills.

4) Go to a hockey game.

5) Throw some back with the neighbors.

...off to a great start. Just need your help with 45 more!

hey, I'm not as frustrated as normal.

textually yours,

m.

Snap Back to Reality

Whooop there goes gravity.

Class starts at 10 and I'm blinking a million times to make sure my eyes will stay open. No promises though because any class seems to be sleep-through-worthy these days.

The pre-Thanksgiving countdown has already started, and I'm anticipating the fury that is the few weeks between that and Christmas- the end of the semester.

Flown by? Maybe, but not without refueling a few times, and a lot of turbulence for sure. This semester has left me feeling old and exhausted. With the weekend drink as the only means to wind down, it adds to the circle of death by adding to my continuous drained feeling.

This weekend, school will be hosting it's annual JibFest. I'm stoked for the on-campus rail jam, but there is a lot to do before Friday comes. And that's just for that. Add on homework (yes, I still do most of it) and single-digit hours of sleep, and somehow it'll all get thrown together.

I seem to be the only person I know who can function on little to no sleep. While it makes me pretty miserable, and can't be good for those undereye circles, it just seems like the only option sometimes. Any free time is devoted to homework, errands or cleaning the house- which seems to be the major factor of time consumption lately.

Being adults, you'd think we'd finally realize that there aren't any magic bathroom fairies, but as it turns out, some of us still think that. Apparently people around me still think there are magic cleaning fairies, as our trash sat in the kitchen for over a week, filled to the brim, reeking of sour decomposition of it's contents. While I quietly refused to empty it, there it sat. Amongst all of the homedwellers and visitors, no one said anything, until a Friday at home prompted a friend to take it out- saying she couldn't take it anymore.

It feels like at 21, I'm closer to 31, yet the "kids" I'm picking up after are all officially older than me. But as the old adage goes, I guess age is just a number...

As class draws near, I painfully hope to pound out a few more lines, though my hands are cracked and dry from dishwashing. Dainty? Far from. Many would leave the dishes out til someone else got the hint-- but I guess that doesn't happen.

When are we going to cut the cord? Because I think I can still see it attached to some of my friends. From household to household, there's still a clear matriarch and patriarch, despite our single-sex living environments. I'm pretty exhausted as a Mom though. The nickanme is a compliment, but the banks about broke with the number of family dinners I've had to sponsor, and the nail polish is chipped from the dishes.

Rant? Perhaps, but it's been due for awhile. I sense a professor lingering. Time to slee---learn.

frustratedly yours,
j

to all the haters

I used to become upset, no no, extremely angered, when my favorite bloggers wouldn't frequently update their pages. I didn't understand why someone would have a blog if they weren't going to update it.

For weeks, I'd refresh the pages of my favorite blogs, and still would be disappointed- but now I'm the one causing frustration.

People have lives. I think we get so caught up in the million things WE'RE doing, that we forget that other people are busy as well. I can't believe it's been so long since I posted, let alone wrote something significant or meaningful to me. Sure I've been busy writing for my school paper, but that isn't anything I'm proud of.

So hopefully I can get back here soon.

Sorry for making everyone else, textually frustrated.

Seeing = Believing?

So I've stumbled upon something that is frustrating the hell out of me. It's a matter of legitimacy, mixed in with trust and faith, that seems to be lacking in my life right now. Well, maybe not with me in particular, but I sense it and it's driving me crazy.

I don't understand why, in this day in age, we still can't easily comprehend (certain) things, unless we see them with our own eyes. We believe tabloids, we put faith into the e-world via our Blackberrys and iPhones, but we can't process other instances in life without witnessing them.

Maybe some of you know the specific instance this has spawned from, while others may not. It doesn't matter, because it happens all the time. When did we lose our faith?



We thrust ourselves into trusting electronics, but can't trust people. We rely on technology, but can't depend on each other.

What. The. Hell.

I wish people could trust me and what I know and what I'm doing. Just because you can't see the process or visualize the outcome, doesn't mean it won't be successful. I put my heart into things and then have people who can't understand it because it isn't tangible to them.

Did none of you watch Peter Pan? Did you not listen to Tinkerbell?

Witnessed or not, we have to resort back to trust. You have to let your stomach sit, and wait out that feeling of unsettlement. The best things in life can come from the biggest surprises-- even if you don't see them coming.

Just because someone can't see something, doesn't make it less real. If you love something, just because you don't see it, doesn't make it less true.

ridiciously, frustrated.

Sugar, Sugar, da da da da da da, oh Honey, Honey

The easiest comfort food around, is sugar. Alright, so maybe it's more of a spice, ingredient, etc, but it can make most things instantly better-- which is why we've been recently implementing it into more and more things.

Sugar is an essential part to sweet treats, most specifically birthdays. Although we will soon be celebrating Kayla & Meg's days, we just partied it up for Heather's this past weekend. To simply celebrate, we made some J e l l - O.

Prepping.

Lime, Raspberry, Mixed fruit, and Cherry.

Feeling a little awkward putting these in the fridge as Steve & Chris stare us down.

Had to turn to the pie dish with overflow.

Rando girl who insisted on wearing this crown.

Just kidding, it's Heather!

Jell-O went over well on Saturday, but the real hit of the weekend came during, dun dun dahhhh! Sunday night dinner. If you didn't notice, I like cooking, baking, etc etc. Going back to my roots from summers at Kimberly's Ice Cream Factory, I decided to make Heather a birthday cake... made of ice cream. I've only done this in the pink walls of comfort at the shop, and was nervous about the task.

Trying to replicate the way we did things at work, I spent Sunday working on the cake. Considering the fact that I didn't have top-notch equipment or products, I tried my best anyway. The goal was to make a vanilla and chocolate layered cake, with the classic cookie crumb center, decorated in a cute yet classy way for Miss Heather. This is the result.

Happy Birthday Heather!

mmmmm chocolate drizzleeeeeee

Chef Tom eyeing the desserts for the evening. He makes the final call on what's good.

It worked! Epic layers!

Plumber's here to fix the drain.... don't go there....

always

frustrated!

Injuries & Spiders

INJURIES

I really shouldn't be bitching. I mean, really. I have never had a cavity, any extreme surgeries, or broken bones. While I know I'm lucky, I'm currently suffering from the following:

Went to bed and this eye was a little pinky. Woke up and it was significantly red. Kthx to whoever bare-ass farted on my pillow.

Hard to tell, but that little fleck on my forehead? I found that little guy and wasn't sure where it came from. Then it hit me. Actually, the freezer door hit me. I was squatted down checking on jello shots (story to come) and didn't see the freezer open. Oops.

I know I'm not the only on who's done this. In an effort to squish down the trash, I completely forgot that Meg had thrown a plastic cup that had cracked in there. I palmed the trash, heard the crack, then felt the pain. The pics don't really show it well but they're each a half an inch long and the top's pretty deep. Oh well.

Spiders

In the same nature class that I took my bike class with Kayla, we also talk about animals and bugs. Today, we talked about spiders. Kayla cringed when my professor said we were going to watch a quick video about spiders.

Although I wasn't super stoked on the idea, I was glad that the lights would be dimmed and I could close my eyes. Instead, I watched the whole thing, intriged and loving it. I hope you like it too:



 UNTiL THEN
textually frustrated

Hungry

One of the feats that I always amaze myself with, is the ability to cook.  As a junior living in a campus apartment, I have a limited meal plan, thus forcing me to make the majority of my meals. Trying to avoid the Ramen diet, I have gotten in the habit of buying  veggies, chicken, and turkey, that I common make sandwiches, salads, pasta dishes, or wraps with.

This past week I took everything I bought and cooked it up. I thought the week might be hectic so getting ahead couldn't hurt. Two hours later, the masterpiece was finished:

Mushrooms, magical!

Lulz.

Alright, let's just get this straight. Tons of people hate on broccoli, and I used to think so too, but it's actually super dank. Eat it.

Under construction.

Zucchini and summer squash are good when in season because they are stupid cheap, hearty, and hold whatever flavors you add to them, really well. We'll catch up with them agian later.

Since the carrots and broccoli are a little tougher than the other veggies, I put them in the pan first, with some butter and water, so they would simmer and soften in texture.

I was actually looking for a Vidalia onion the day I went shopping because they are a lot sweeter, but the reds were on sale and are good for adding color into a dish.

Rasta Peppers! I commonly say this to refer to the combination of red, green, and yellow peppers. The green are usually significantly cheaper, but if you can get red, yellow (or orange) on sale, totes mcgoats do.

I wouldn't sound like a pseudo-Vermonter without a plug for composting, although I have a grudge against it since the school's designated compost chick didn't answer my emails. Suck it.

Butter, salt, pepper. Count it.

The onions, peppers, and finally, mushrooms have been added. Make sure to add the mushrooms last to prevent them from.... getting mushy.

Roomie Alexsis totally showed me up, in the middle of my dinner-blogging mission, by making roasted red potatoes, sauteed green beans, and lightly buttered shells. Damn her.

Alfredo (parmesan cream) sauce from scratch. Super easy as long as you pay attention to it do it doesn't thicken wrong. Because then it will look like baby puke and it's freakin' gross.

BUTONI!!!! Definitely didn't make my own pasta. Upgraded the reg. tortellini to spinach to be jazzy.

Everything flooded together, but it's: Cheese-filled spinach tortellini with carrots, mushrooms, peppers, onions, and broccoli in an alfredo cream sauce with sauteed zucchini and summer squash.

Maybe this wasn't the most exciting blog post... but next: Jello shots and Ice cream cake!

UNTiL THEN

textually frustrated

On a Bicycle Built for Two

The mystical song always used to seem so fun and cute, illustrating the young love a man has for a girl named Daisy. In case you don't know or don't remember...

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,

I'm half crazy all for the love of you.

It won't be a stylish marriage -

I can't afford a carriage,

But you'd look sweet upon the seat

Of a bicycle built for two.

Okay I recently rode a bicycle built for two.....
..it sucked.

This semester I signed up for a course entitled, "Feature Writing- Nature/Outdoors." Hoping to become a ski journalist, I thought this class would help me write about my experiences on and around the snow.

It's not exactly what I expected.

This past Wednesday, my professor took our class to Local Motion, on the waterfront of Lake Champlain in downtown Burlington. This non-profit group works hard to promote healthy lifestyles and eco-friendly choices. Our afternoon started off with conversation with Chapin Spencer who works tirelessly for the organization. After he gave us a bunch of information, we got suited up with helmets and assigned bikes, headed out to the Colchester Causway by way of the Burlington Bike Path. My good friend Kayla and I decided to rent one of the two tandem bicycles.

Let the fun begin.

My helmet didn't fit. It was cold. I refused to take of my uni hat because it was cold. We tried reaaaally hard to look cute regardless! Ugh

Little pit stop that "bridges" Burlington and Colchester.

I recognized this from LJ jumping off of it at the end of one of the Meathead movies.

A little break before we turned around. This was a strip with water on either side. We swapped the tandem with some eager (ha) classmates at this point.

Artsy.

Trying to be artsy, ride my bike, and take pictures. Fail.

KAYLA!

SCARY!

I really suck at this photog thing.

Wheel.

Sun shining on New York across the lake.

Again.

I really love when the sun streaks through in selective areas.

Some cool art that I sat and appreicated after surviving a TEN mile bike ride!

If you're ever in Burlington, come check Local Motion out!

I have to go ice my butt and legs some more.

Until then I'm (more than usual)

textually frustrated.

I Do It For The LULZ

There isn't much to say today other than I have a major case of Suckzor going on in my life. At least I got homework for one class, done in another class, all the while making the prof in the first class love me. Don't ask me how I do it, because I couldn't even begin to tell you.

As for hump day, we might as well make this humorous, seeing as how I am extremely grouchy over the fact that my Utah and Colorado friends will be getting snow this week, during the same time that I bask in the puke-initiating dwelling known as my apartment. (It's not the smell, it's the heat. Waking up with your sheets and clothes stuck to you, along with major cotton mouth on account of +75 degree temps in your bedroom is NOT amusing.)

SO ANYWAY-- The point. Let's get to it,

This is not my car. This is not my park-job. But it amused the hell out of me, even though I was frustrated that I had to park further away from classes Tuesday. Shit happens. And then you die.

Besides....

I DID IT FOR THE LULZ.

Until then, I'm still

textually frustrated

American Pie

Let's get one thing straight: I suck at all things American. Contrary to my friend Mike Rogge who dominates every skill associated with "Amurrrcca" (i.e. beer drinking, babseball, and he probably is a forced to be reckoned with at the grill,), I love all things Canadian; my friends, hockey, and french fry creations. But I will tell you one thing, I make a mean apple pie.

The apple fest in our apartment started after various conversations between the roomies about being more Vermonty this year. Three years in the Green Mountain State and we can't reall say much as far as our outdoor adventures go. So times are changing readers. This past Saturday we went to Chapin's Apple Orchard for a nostalgic hour or two, in hopes of bringing home some ruby reds.

As you are aware if you actually read this blog on a regular basis, (Adria and roomies, that's you) we do family dinners every Sunday. Fitting perfectly well into our assignment on the schedule of making dessert, the apple excursion led to the second half of the most epic family dinner ever. And so it begins.

For those of you who aren't aware, apple pie and apple crisp are not easy tasks. Apples too mushy resemble sauce and apples too crisp don't soak up all of the cinnamon love juice. It is not for the faint of heart.

Kayla Norris, being the doll that she is, peeled at least a half peck of apples while Heather, Meaghan and I scooted to the library for some Sunday homework junk. Within the half hour or so of us being gone, Kayla had all of these babies peeled and sliced, ready for layering in my pie and Meg's crisp.

Victims of Kayla's apple massacre.

These two desserts come in number of varieties, and it seems like it's like people's taste in beer-- sure they'll all fill you up and get you drunk, but it's all a matter of what suites you.  With two different family recipes in hand, Meg and I opted to make the two different dishes, thus coaxing our other fear of running out.

Meg prepping the crisp and Kay helping me out by coating the apples for the pie.

With rumors that the guys could be popping over for dinner at any moment (they seem to be mastering their degrees in being vague rather than their actual majors), we threw the goodies in the oven and hoped for the best. I wanted to eat the crumble tops off of both dishes, but knew they'd be especially epic when crunchy and cooked.

Cinnamon, brown sugar, and lots of delicious noise.

The waiting game begins! 50 minutes to ecstatsy!

I know I have ripped on the guys in previous posts on what they have literally brought to the table for our last few meals, but their main courses have really blown me away. Tom Keefe is a man who knows his meat. Take that as you will, but Tom made amazing steak tips about two weeks ago, and didn't let us down this week. Cruising in our door a little after 8pm were two bacon and jalepeno topped meatloaves, (not the scary elementary school cafeteria kind) along with a bowl of peas and perfectly seasoned hand-mashed potatoes.

Wish you were here!

Within fifteen or so minutes, twelve of us polished off all of the dishes pictured above. I was nervous that no one was going to have room for our pies, but miraculously, we all made room.  And thank god, because dessert was beyond delicious.

The McGinty Family Crisp.

The Keans' Family Pie.

Coming up on 24-hours later, I think it's safe to say we've finally digested. With a few servings of crisp and slice of pie in the fridge, it's safe to say it was a successful night in the land of family dinners. I have to admit that I didn't know if they would stay strong, but I'm sure glad they did because if the food didn't draw you over, the conversation still would've.

Latina Princess.

UNTiL THEN,

textually frustrated.