FAIL of the week: Weather, Department Meetings, etc.

This post, like myself, has had no coffee and cannot hold a thought for more than three sentences.

I was supposed to be in a screening for group therapy right now. However, they called me at 8 am to tell me the doctor was not going to be in because she had been on call late last night, and I would have to reschedule for next week. When a mental health specialist is on call late at night, it makes you wonder if someone tried to kill themselves last night. This disturbs me.

What else disturbed me was that I dreamed about Nazis last night. Somehow I was on the run with a woman who I already knew would end up being killed by the Nazis, it was only a matter of time -- I had seen the future or something, I don't know. I knew she was doomed and I was in the exact same place as she was but just by luck I escaped and she didn't...it was a scary dream. It was long too, I just wish I remembered more of the story.

I think the Nazi dream arose from our deparment meeting on Monday. It was one of the most eye-opening and frustrating experiences I've had in a while. All the students brought up points that they had obviously been bringing up every single year, and every single year the profs would "consider a discussion around that subject." In other words, they don't listen to anything we say, even demands for basic needs like graduate level courses (NONE are being offered this semester). One of the professors responded to this request by stating point blank that the undergrads were smarter than we were. This is the same guy who told us that nitrogen becomes carbon by losing neutrons. And he got his B.A. and his Ph.D. here. All of us were so angry after that meeting, and we felt like total tools for coming here instead of the public schools we had all but enrolled in already. It was especially hard for me knowing how much closer I'd be to Jenny if I had chosen UCLA. I beat myself up about it. No good. :(

Fortunately my trio of advisors are some of the nicer and more sensible in the department. My main one met with me yesterday and was very encouraging. She wants to help me find a cool lab project to do. Right now we're thinking about Maya poison bottles. Poison bottles! Sweeeeeeet!!!

I thought I had my classes set: three lecture-section courses (China, South America, and the Origins of Agriculture) plus lab research time. But now my advisor is dead set I get out of the South America lecture course because it's a waste of my time to be in undergrad classes, and I know half the material, so she suggested I take a course in Social Anthro about Japan. Contemporary Japan is like obviously super awesome and I could write a paper about the hybridized past-future culture, or the aesthetics of manga, or why everyone in Tokyo dresses emo. Of course I'll probably get pressured to write about something like fishing. >> I don't want to hurt the feelings of my South America prof, because the class is already tiny and he's another of my advisors, but I'll be taking more classes with him later and I would really like to be in a seminar. I have to decide today and I hate decisions! *pouts*

My default eyeliner is nearly gone. It's only been three months. I am going to have to use my pretty-but-too-smeary one today, while I go out to buy another.

I broke my glasses (kind of) last week. I rebent them into shape but now the lens keeps falling out. I broke one of my favorite headbands, though it was probably asking to break since it was too small for my head to begin with. Note to self: stop shopping at stores for 12-year-olds.

I really want to read Umbrella Academy fanfiction, but I don't think anyone's gone there yet.

I never thought I'd say this, but I''m kind of getting excited about potential President Hillary.

And finally: WHY IS IT 90 DEGREES OUTSIDE? IT'S ALMOST OCTOBER.

My Comical Romance!

So yesterday, I met this man:

I met him at Newbury Comics on Newbury Street.

Let’s back up a bit. Earlier this week I stumbled across this little notice on the intrawebs. O RLY, I thought. Gee is signing his new comic book in Boston. That. Is rather close to me. Both out of loyalty and a genuine interest in what his odd little brain came up with, I had planned on picking up a copy of The Umbrella Academy anyway. What was the catch? I phoned Newbury, who said wristbands distributed when the store opened at 10 would guarantee priority in line when Gerard showed up at 4. My classes ran from 12 to 3. Perfect.

I woke myself up at 7:30 so I could get in line by 8:30. Conveniently, the T-stop was in clear sight of the storefront, and right away I spotted a gaggle of tired-looking teens in MCR shirts and decidedly tweemo attire. It took me a minte to realize that the line was in fact much longer – perhaps 50-60 people, including some accompanying parents. So I got in line and waited.

The kids in front of me in line were really physically small. I could tell from their vocabularies and their discussion of A.P.s that that they were high schoolers, but wow…they were small. They were all wearing blue jeans, black hoodies, studded belts, Chucks or Vans, and some article that said “My Chemical Romance” on it. They had made posters for the band, and one girl had made a black umbrella and striped scarf for her carebear and was going to give it to him. The girls were falling all over this one guy, who was nonchalantly telling stories of meeting several other bands in person. It was amusing.

More amusing, though, were the consistent expressions of bewilderment on the faces of the normal people passing by. "Who are you guys waiting in line for?" they always asked. Replies ranged from the obvious ("Gerard Way," "MCR," "My Chemical Romance," which often had to be revealed in succession to the clueless passerby) to the ironicly subtle ("It's a comic book signing") to the outright brilliant ("Godot," "Bon Jovi"). One girl didn't ask us anything, but I heard her mumble something about Avril Lavigne. Ouch. A middle-aged man muttered, "It must be the Beatles." One woman smiled brightly and said, "He's so lucky! He's got such great fans!" MCR fandom is indeed special. It seems to be contagious. The mother of a girl standing near me seemed to know everything about all the band members. "Gerard got married?" she asked me. "I wasn't sure if that was just an internet rumor."

I am absolutely fascinated by alternative youth culture, and particularly of MCR fandom. Based on this and on my concert experience in Worcester, I felt like I had two sample populations on which to base my anthropological fieldwork (though in reality it was probably the same population). My thesis is that MCR fans, like the band itself, are a unique bunch. Not your regular crop of emo kids. And I was going to include a side note on this study of mine, but it ended up doubling the length of the post, so I'll save it for a future time.

When I returned at 3:30, the line had swollen and extended down the entire block. Fortunately, my wristband enabled me to jump to the front half. As 4pm drew nearer, even more people climbed onto the back of the line. I found myself with a group of twentysomethings who worked and went to school in the area, and we commiserated over feeling old. Watching the other fans was amusing. A rather obnoxious group of youngsters wearing Burger King crowns took it upon themselves to sing MCR songs together while waiting for the signing to start. There was plenty of eyecandy for me: gorgeous girls with to-die-for hair, and boys in tight pants. But my favorite fan of all was a burly, twenty-something "tough guy" in a wifebeater who looked like he could take all of MCR out with one punch. I might have assumed he was here for his girlfriend's benefit, had the gorgeous tattoo of the Black Parade mascot on his forearm not been so strikingly visible. Now that is hardcore.

The company of my fellow collegians made the hour-long procession through the store rather enjoyable in and of itself. As we wound through the aisles, we found ourselves tempted by $8.99 CDs, Neil Gaiman anthologies, and Sid Vicious and David Bowie action figures. At that point, store workers broke the heartbreaking news to us: they would only let us give Gerard one item to sign. I can understand why they'd want to move the line along if people are demanding to get their CDs and their sneakers and their chests signed, butI was just hoping to get a signed book for Jenny along with my own. No such luck. One girl I was with was in the same situation. But we were still pretty psyched. We made bets on how much coffee Gerard would have with him. We all know him so well, it's kind of disturbing. XD

I finally got in sight of Gerard, and my heart did a little dance.

(I did not take this picture, because I'm a goody goody. I stole it from some internet girl.)

I was displeased and yet unsurprised that he wore his horrible Michael Jackson sunglasses. Seriously dude, your eyes make your face. You’re indoors. Take them the hell off! It would have felt much more personal had I been able to see his eyes. But he looked great anyway, and...surprisingly big. Well, not big, just…close-up. Life-size. Kinda like how the stuffed animals in natural history museums look so much bigger than you realized they actually were? And I loved his outift! It was so good to see him wear a tie again -- I think is meant to mirror the Umbrella Academy attire, but it also reminded me of the Not Okay getup. And his hair is looking good these days too! It's getting long and Elvis-esque. I wonder if he'll grow it back to his classic '05 look. As long as he doesn't go blond again, we're good. He had three venti Starbucks cups atop the table. I called that! I watched him sign for the girl ahead of me. Then it was my turn.

“Hi, I’m Gerard,” he said as he shook my hand.

Yeah, I know who you are, Gerard. XD He is so adorkable. LOVE.

So I told him who I was. He signed and personalized my book in silver ink, while I told him how much I love and respect what he does. I gave him a drawing of the band in their Black Parade uniforms, which I made shortly after the May concert.


From cartoonist to cartoonist. When I gave him the picture, he smiled the most genuine smile. I was so glad I had thought to bring it! He thanked me, still smiling, and I thanked him too, and went on my merry way.

The moment I got outside the door I had a bit of a fangasm. Some of the other girls were struggling to slow their heart rates as well, and smiled at me knowingly. It was a moment of silent bonding. Then I saw that the line outside the building still stretched down the block. Most of those people would not get to meet Gerard. However, they DID get to meet the local Jesus Man, who was haranguing them about how they were going to hell. They weren't buying it. It was hilarious.

I listened to TBP the whole subway ride home, while reading the comic book. I love it! The art is awesome, the story is inspired, and the whole thing glows darkly with Gerardyness. Can't wait for the second issue.

God, what a day. Hanging out with all those people, knowing that despite our differences we shared a love for this band -- the music, the men, and the art of it -- gave me a warm feeling of community. And the moment of glory was over so fast, but it was so great. I'm so lucky! He only did TWO signings - New York and Boston! As if it was possibly for me to adore this guy more.

This is me with my prize:


I really want to go as one of the Umbrella kids for Halloween, but alas, no one would get it.

So long and good night!

Busy busy busy

It’s been a few crazy days in archaeology land.

I slept poorly Wendesday night due to emotional crap, and conveniently, ALL DAY on Thursday was crammed with department activities. First, Department Orientation. I began the event by spilling my entire cup of coffee in my lap. The entire front of my pants as well as my underwear were soaked through. Everyone was staring at me, and the fact that I was saying “Fuck fuck fuck!” probably didn’t help. They were all quite concerned that I had burned myself, but the funny thing was I didn’t even notice the pain (high tolerance ftw!). I was just annoyed that I was soaking wet. Thank god I wore black jeans and the coffee didn’t even show.

Archaeo Wing luncheon. Uneventful. Met some students and faculty; got contradictory opinions on whether I need to take Organic Chemistry. My lab advisor is in Europe right now, so she was no help. Exhausted by the end. Passed on library tour and went home to “nap.”

Wine hour with Archeo and Bioanthro folk. Followed by party at Michele’s beautiful Somerville apartment. Lots of food and beer. Met people. Got even more tired.

Then came Friday, which was Anthropology Day -- basically ten short faculty presentations from 1 to 5 pm, followed by a reception with amazing food and wine. I was tired from the very beginning, and exhausted by the end. Went to reception anyway, mostly for the amazing food. I could live off free food here. I’m so tired of all my friends insisting on going out and spending money on it. >> We went out to a bar and had a few drinks with older students. It was all good, but I was so tired. I’m pretty certain I’m getting sick. I was also beginning to feel anxious about how unsuitable I was for independent archaeological fieldwork, and though my friends comforted me by reminding me of the other possibilities that lay down the line, such as lab-centric research or museum conservation, it contributed to my fatigue.

When I got home, it was only 9:30, but I can’t remember the last time I was that tired. I was supposed to go out to a party in the grad student center which literally everyone else in the dorm was attending, but I just couldn’t make it. I was so tired it hurt. I thought, if I just fell asleep and never woke up, it would be fine. I want nothing more than to sleep forever. Only slightly later did I realize the implications of that thought.

It was the thought of Jenny that snapped me out of it. I know that anything I do to hurt myself hurts her as well. That’s love I guess. Also, I got several people calling/texting me from the party, wondering where I was. I realized that people here care about me already and it was actually kind of touching.

I’m anxious for class to start Monday. Now that I’m here, the downsides to Harvard’s program are becoming more apparent. The classes situation is kind of frustrating, actually. At first glance it appears that there are myriad courses to choose from. However, most of the courses are offered every other year, and since you only have two years allocated to classes, you are kind of driven into a time slot. This is compounded by the fact that general exams happen after the third term, so you have to get all your breadth requirements done in the first three terms. This is usually impossible. Most of the profs don’t seem to make teaching a priority. At many universities, rather than general exams, second-years are expected to complete a Master’s thesis. I can see the appeal of getting the broad knowledge base instead of diving right into original research, but they sure don’t make it easy to get the background you need.

One good thing, on the other hand, is that I am certain that this is the career field that interests me most intellectually. While applying last year, I doubted myself a lot and wondered if I shouldn’t have done English or something. But all the talks on Anthro Day, as well as my conversations with other students and my explorations of the museum collections, have been very inspiring. While I am still concerned about whether I will make it through, I am confident that my failure wouldn’t be because the subject wasn’t right for me. It would be because my temperment and mental health are too fragile for the high pressure careers at the end of this track. I am going to try to work on that, because this is the most exciting, potentially fulfilling thing I can do, and it’s worth staying sane for..

Anthro Noobs!

FAIL of the Week: INDIE/EMO BANDS (or Boston venues?)

Why do bands like to play in Worcester? O_0 Boston is like, much, much cooler.

In particular, they like to play at The Palladium, which features the following schedule for November:

Nov 1: Thursday
Nov 7: The Academy Is
Nov 8 & 9: Dashboard Confessional
Nov 11: Motion City Soundtrack
Nov 18: Bright Eyes

WTF, BANDS? Why do you not come to Boston so I can take the nice $2 subway, instead of shelling out money for a Zipcar or whatever? It must be something about the venues. The Orpheum, where Tori is playing next month, has no GA floor. But let's be honest -- Bright Eyes and Dashboard don't need room for a mosh pit. Come on guys, you're just...not hardcore. We do love you. But seriously.

In the end it's a good thing they're out of the way, as I have neither the time nor money to go to a show every week in November. But I don't have a November concert yet. I'd easily choose Bright Eyes, of the bunch, but it's unfortunately the day after the Harvard-Yale game, which essentially eliminates the whole weekend from my academic calendar.

*ponders*

Well, at least I have Tori and Brand New, which are probably even better.

And, I've discovered the magic of three wonderful bands: Biffy Clyro, Chiodos, and The Fall of Troy. To which I can listen (for free) in the pleasure of my own (free) room.

Which reminds me that I am getting my stipend check tomorrow. Wooohooooo! *dance dance* Crepes with Lauren en la mañana, then a bunch of orientation speeches, workshops, etttttttc. *yawn* Departmental orientation is Thursday, including luncheon and student party. "Anthropology Day," whatever that is, Friday afternoon. I don't know if I'll be up for the shopping trip Lauren P. and Peter have in mind for Saturday....guh. I kind of want to go whale watching that day anyway...if I'm still breathing.

Goal: Stay alive for therapy on Monday.

Goal 2: A packet of instant oatmeal is not dinner. BUY SOME EGGS.

O_O;

Sad news and happy news.

Sad news first.

Happy news next: the wasps are gone, thanks to my Kleenex stuffage, and I went to BU to buy a guitar today!


With mother-of-pearl inlay. It's purty.


I got a case for it , which is hugely heavy. I felt so cool getting on the subway with my guitar! XD I need to think of a name for it.

FAIL of the week: SCREENS.

Ok so, my dorm room is completely awesome. It's awesome. It even, I realized with delight, has a screen on the window.

Ha ha ha.

People who know me well know that I have an almost irrational loathing of stinging insects. This strikes many people as odd considering that I usually like nature, have a lot of outdoor experience, and have, uh, developed a rather high pain tolerance. The prospect of being stung by a bee should not, logically, be a big deal in the scheme of things. But they scare the shit out of me. So it kind of creeped me out last night to notice several hollow yellowjacket corpses festooning my windowsill. Then this morning, just as I was letting my newly polished nails dry, I realized that there were two live ones buzzing around the inside of my open window. WTF. There is a screen on the fricking window. A screen which apparently has a big-ass HOLE in it somewhere, because these are BIG fricking wasps.

What to do. First, I closed the window so that the hundreds more that were buzzing about outside couldn't get in. Then I mustered my courage to trap the intruders under my new shiny clean water glass. I accidentally decapitated the first one, with a pang of remorse. The second one is currently flitting about wildly under the glass on my desk. I don't want to try to put it outside for fear that more will fly in. It's going to suffocate and that makes me sad. But it's me versus him.

It really is bothering me that I can't figure out how they're getting through the screen. I can't see any opening. I really want to keep the window open because it is HOT in here and it's going to be even hotter this weekend, but there is no way I'm letting more of these nasty bitches into my room. They are obviously all living in the huge tree outside. I think at night when they are sleeping I will try to repair the hole somehow.

WHY.