PHILIP! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

WHOOT.

Saturday, my friends and I threw a surprise birthday party for Philip. In England, they have caterpillar cakes, and on pimpthatsnack.com, which transforms ordinary desserts into giant centerpieces, we found a giant caterpillar cake. This was obviously what we had to make for Philip. We also had to make it vegan, for Lindsey.

So Friday was an epic day of ingredients-acquisition, and Saturday was an epic day of baking, baking, and baking.






We made two test cakes with the vegan recipe. The first one came out too much like banana bread and nothing like cake. After asking Emma's kitchen wizard mom for advice, our second test cake was AMAZING. We knew we had hit the mark. (See photo, above: we ate it during the baking)

Lindsey approved:


Now we had to make ten of them.





The frosting was my ninja skills.

Once we had the ten cakes, it was time for the jelly filling:



And the stacking:


We cut a piece off to make a flat bottom and flipped the stack over:


Then we iced it. This is what we call the turd stage:


Then we added the features!



THE FINAL PRODUCT:


Unfortunately, since we had promised Philip we would also bake pizza that night (unrelated, he presumed, to his birthday), he came upstairs to find us in search of pizza, and saw the back end of the cake, whereupon Emma smacked him very, very hard and yelled him out of the room. Poor guy. I don't think he saw much, but he certainly knew something was up.

Then we got all piled into the kitchen to wait for Lindsey to bring Philip in. This was the result:








You can see me flitting around with the bright red and black armwarmers,going up to hug Philip after he hugged Emma. I look like the dork that I am. And that's Atanu behind the camera, with his great line about the knife.

Random blathering:







And then the cake cutting:







'Twas a grand time.

The Bravery at the Paradise Rock Club, 2/18

It had been over a month since I'd been to a show, and yeah, I missed it. So we went to the loveably grungy Paradise Rock Club to see The Bravery -- me, Philip, and his friend Duncan, also British. Flanked by British lads, I was in good spirits.

We arrived a tad late and missed about half of the opening set by Your Vegas, but from what we heard they had potential. However, they were overshadowed by the rocking Switches. This British quintet had a great sound -- a kind of classic rock throwback thing, with four-part harmony, loud guitars, infectious energy, and awesome hair. Unfortunately, their lyrics were,in Philip's words, "insipid." Their formula for a song seems to be choose a two- or three-word phrase for the title ("No Hero," "Every Second Counts," "Lovin' It"), and then repeat it as many times as possible within the chorus. Once the crowd had figured out this formula, it got old quickly. They were clearly talented musicians with skills and commanding stage presence, however, so I think they could be quite big if they learned how to diversify their song structure. They've only got a couple of EPs out so far, so they've got time. Good stuff.

Waiting for The Bravery was the usual trial of patience, and we fell back into our pattern of making hypocritically snide remarks about the crowd. In this case, it was the most "mainstream" looking crowd I'd been in for some time. (To counterbalance the general lack of self-conscious hipness, I suppose, we had to encounter the single ugliest couple I have ever seen in my life. I shall not even describe the horror, lest it be read by said couple. This is the internet after all. We actually didn't see them until midway through the set, when they pushed their way from the bar up to the front for "An Honest Mistake." Goodness, I've said too much.) At an ideal Bravery concert, people would jump around. Their new-wave influenced, synthesizer-infused pop-rock about as close to dance music as legit guitar rock gets. And some of the people filling the Paradise that night were unhip enough, or tipsy enough, to do that.

The Bravery came onstage with "Split Me Wide Open," which, though a great song, was somewhat disappointing live. Perhaps it was a poor choice of starters. Singer Sam Endicott sounded strained, sounding like a pale echo of a young Robert Smith, to whom he is sometimes compared. However, he sounded much more confident on "No Brakes," and that confidence lasted through the solid set, which was more or less split between 2005's self-titled debut and this year's The Sun and the Moon. Before playing "This Is Not the End," he announced they would soon release a new album, entitled The Moon, made of of alternate versions of all the songs from The Sun and the Moon. I'd still rather have an album of new compositions, but the "Moon" versions of familiar tracks they performed were interesting, especially the sped-up takes of Sun's two slow songs. "Tragedy Bound," the sparsest, bleakest song The Bravery has recorded, benefited from an injection of tempo, while "The Ocean," which is beautifully wistful and dreamy on record, became a more generic Bravery filer track when backed up by a disco drumbeat. It was decidedly refreshing to hear the variation, which, after all, is part of why we go to shows.

Sam Endicott has a long face that makes him look a bit like a cross between a more outgoing Conor Oberst and a less intimidating Trent Reznor. He's passionate and dynamic on stage, all angular motion. Emo-haired guitarist Michael Zakarin also loved the crowd, pacing the edge of the barrier and bringing out the fangirls in all of us. The shy guy and unsung hero was clearly keyboardist John Conway, who, with bassist Mike Hindert, contributed backing vocals in places I hadn't realized existed. The band made it clear that they were rockers, relying only minimally on synth power and more on the charisma and musical muscle of the Endicott-Zakarin combo. Drummer Anthony Burulchich's killer solo almost consciously spat in the face of drum machines everywhere.

The poppy "Public Service Announcement" was a highlight, as were the three biggest hits: "Believe," "Time Won't Let Me Go," and "An Honest Mistake." The last, saved til late in the evening, was the crowd's obvious sentimental favorite and brought the place as close to a dance floor as it could get. They also played an old song called "The Dandy Rock," which Ellicott assured us had never been recorded. Featuring Zakarin on vocals, who was hard to hear, it was forgettable but a welcome surprise.

When they left the stage, I was hoping for "Fearless" and "Bad Sun" as encores. While I didn't get the latter, I did get the former, as well as the single "Unconditional," for which Endicott pulled out all the stops. "I just want I just want love," he wailed, and we shook our heads because it was so obvious that we loved him.

Setlist (well out of order):

Split Me Wide Open
No Brakes
This is Not the End (Moon version)
Public Service Anouncement
Tyrant
The Dandy Rock
Believe
Every Word From Your Mouth Is a Knife in My Ear
Time Won't Let Me Go
An Honest Mistake
Tragedy Bound (Moon version)
Swollen Summer

Encore:
Fearless
The Ocean (Moon version)
Unconditional

LOLPROFS

There are problems in this paper with organization, word choice, and referencing. What you are trying to do in this paper is not adequately presented in the introduction, points are not well made nor evaluated adequately in the body, and use of evidence is not critical. this is very much an undergraduate level paper and lacks the acuity expected in a graduate student effort. B+

Oh, Richard Meadow. But I thought the undergrads were smarter than the grad students. So, aren't you...sort of... complimenting me?

Everyone loves my hair, and so do I. It's darkened a little into a rich almost wine-colored red. It should last for about a month.

My classes this semester are pretty interesting. I'm taking a lecture course on the decipherment of ancient writing systems, which is pretty easy, fun, and well-taught. My adviser is teaching a soil chemistry course where we go out into the forest where an old tannery sued to be and test the ground for chemicals to see if it's safe for future excavation. That should be fun. Then of course there is my lab project. I got my bone samples approved for lab today, and on Monday I'm going to saw them up and get ready to play scientist. XD Finally, I have to take the Method and Theory seminar which is required for my program. It's kind of fun because the prof is hilarious and everyone's in it together, but it is an inordinate amount of reading and meets from six to nine pm each Wednesday. D: I also just don't like to study theory, because it makes me feel like archaeology is futile and useless and impossible and irrelevant. So I went to bed last night full of doubts again about my motivation. It only got worse today when the librarian made me feel like an idiot (turns out he's like that to everyone) . Then I walked in on Tina and Karola, the fouth- and fifth-years in my lab, sitting around complaining about how our adviser never gives helpful feedback on our paper drafts and how unproductive they feel. I just...ugh. I was excited to be here again, but now I'm not so sure. And Tina later tried to comfort me, telling me not to freak out, and that the best thing for me to do now (totally counter to our adviser's advice) would be to take Chemistry classes if I really want to study residue analysis. She regrets not having a strong enough background in genetics for her work on ancient DNA, but if she wanted to take courses she would have to start from the beginning. She ALSO said it would be very math-intensive as well, which I had no idea. Math?? Oh hell no. Why does nobody tell me these things??? I don't even think I want to do residue analysis anymore if that's the case. This doesn't mean I have to drop out of the program; I could always just shift back over to standard field archaeology, iconography, and theory, but it scares and disappoints me, especially since I don't think I have what it takes to do those things either.

I am excited about living with Emma though, and possibly in a 4-bedroom with Philip and Matt. I'm definitely going to finish next year and get the Masters, and if I want to get a different kind of job then, at least I'll already have a place to live in Boston, and I can go right then from Harvard. It will be much easier to transition. For now, I just have to remember not too stress out by looking too far ahead. I'm being paid to do this after all, so I should at least play the game.

LOLDEMS

Oh yes. It's legit.

Henna for the win.

Winter wonderland

Six inches of snow, the kind of candy-shell snow that coats the trees thick and turns their branches into coral reefs, whiter than bone. The kind of snow that defies gravity, sprayed onto the sides of fences and walls and tree trunks like powdered sugar. The city is painted in white, black, and brick red beneath an alien glow.

I went to the gym this morning with Emma. I realized that the last time I went to the gym, it was because it was too hot and humid to run outside. That was depressing. It sure felt good to work out, though. There are worse ways to start the morning than with some Billy Idol and a half-hour of cardio.

I spent eight hours on my China take home. I could have easily done it in six if I'd been worried about time, and maybe four if I'd studied beforehand instead of during the test, but whenever Rowan Flad says "it shouldn't take more than three hours of your time," he means of his own time, were he taking the test, which he constructed himself. Rowan is a dear, but wow. On the other hand , I think it was the most enjoyable final exam I've ever taken and the one I expect I will retain the most information from. When I am a teacher, instead of making the kids memorize a bunch of facts and spit them all back out in one (three-hour) moment of truth, I'm going to allow them to go back through their notes while answering the questions. This way they can learn the salient information by re-incorporating it into essays and re-reading power point lectures while not freaking out because they got confused between Xiaotun and Xibeigang. Kudos, Rowan. I might actually remember something about China now. Though I guess when you spend EIGHT HOURS on something, you remember it.

I've been sleeping really badly, which is odd, because I'm less stressed than I have been for awhile. It may be because I have so many fun tasks to plan on the horizon. I don't know. While reviewing Chapter 4 of Bodies in Flight, I was disheartened by how weak it was, and I considered eliminating an entire scene, which at the time felt humorous but now just comes across as kind of weird and pathetic. But I can't decided if I should polish the scene and ask people for feedback to see if they agree, or if I should just go ahead and cut it.

I quite like it here.

The approaching reprieve

A lovely, sunny day, though besmirched by two disappointments. I went to The Garage to review China notes in Starbucks, and luckily snagged a comfy chair. Of course, I couldn't go to The Garage without swinging by Hootenanny, since they were having a sale. I was hoping to spend my Visa gift card on a pair of the black Vans slip-ons with cute blue sharks on them, which I've liked since I arrived in Cambridge. Alas, though they were $29, they had no more in my size. Bummed out. After finals I think I'm going to make a trip to the mall, Faneuil Hall, and Newbury Street to properly browse stores. Then I tried to get tickets for Band of Horses on the 23rd, never thinking they'd be SOLD OUT, but they were, being a small venue. Well damn. If Tom hadn't been so "Oh maybe, let's check after Christmas" about it, I'd have gotten them right away. Definitely not worth the $100 on ebay. That's what happens when a little indie band suddenly explodes. No tickets for you.

However, I'm still feeling nice and relaxed and eager for semester break to begin. I have a list of ten things to do between January 16-30:

1. Contact Nancy and see if she and Rick want to do dinner.
2. Hang out with Guy, Ilana, and April.
3. Go to the gym four days a week with Emma.
4. Spend my gift cards on aforementioned shopping trip, perhaps with Peter.
5. Spend two hours a day editing Bodies in Flight.
6. Finish incomplete fanfiction, and begin my Bleach RP. It's writing practice. Right.
7. Spend unspent concert money (grr) on seeing Juno and There Will be Blood.
8. Spend one hour a day on free reading. First comes Dave Eggers.
9. Keep up with InRe, and start greeting card designs for Cafe Press.
10. Reorganize closet and move some stuff into my lab

Unfortunately, it is supposed to be cold starting Monday. Le woe.

Re: New Hampshire

For some reason, I'm really happy Clinton won New Hampshire.

It's not because I want her to win the generals. Not only don't I think she'd be a better leader than Obama; I'm not sure she's as electable. It's not unlikely that McCain would flatten her, though it's true the other Repubs probably wouldn't make much of a dent. It's not because I watched a video of her tearing up and felt a pang of feminine sympathy for her; yeah, she felt genuine for the first time in awhile, but it's the exception that proves the rule. It's not because her husband is a charmer who sets every Bush-hating heart waxing nostalgic; the last thing this country needs is to return to the partisan mud-slinging festival that was the Clinton Presidency.

It's because I don't want to see her broken. She's a woman who has lived under a constant barrage of attacks, mostly for no good reason. The fence-sitting politician she has become is a direct result of the merciless hatred she has combated for fifteen years. I like both candidates and I hate to see another Democrat get ridiculed by the press the way Clinton would have been had her emotional moment preceded sound defeat instead of victory. I want Clinton to go home from this race feeling like she was well-received and respected, not humiliated. I will still choose Obama in February, but I'm happy he won't be getting a free ride. And no matter who is left standing, I'll proudly get behind him or her.

A week into 23...

Long time no update! But I found myself an otherwise-unproductive half-hour between a lunch filled with rich discussion and my upcoming group meeting, and there is much to say on all fronts.

First things first. Through many changes of mind and heart in turn, I've decided to stay at Harvard next year after all. For one, the timing of trying to find a job in Boston for June while signing a lease sometime this spring is just tricky, and there aren't that many jobs I can do that would be any more enjoyable than school. Even if I opened up the field to include San Francisco and L.A., that makes the logistics of the future even more complicated and foreboding. Perhaps the worst thing for me to do for my mental health would be to thrust myself through asteroid belt of logistics into a black hole of uncertainties. I don't hate my schoolwork. I ust hate it when I feel like I'm being trapped into a career that isn't me or that is compromising my artistic identity. If I just treat school as my job at the moment, and take assignments maybe a mite less seriously, it's a pretty good deal.

The primary reason, perhaps, that I don't want to uproot myself is the fact that my social life is richer than it's ever been before. Outside of my department, which is a good place in its own right, I now have two solid, awesome, large groups of friends. I call them "Second Floor" and "Fourth Floor" crews, but really they both cross floors and even dorms. "Second Floor" consists of Emma, Philip, Matt, Mauricio, Lindsey, Natalie and Julian (who are kind of separate now sine they became an item and spend every minute together) Albert, Atanu, Ashley, and others. We meet in the South Kitchen where I proceed to devour the remains of the Classics Happy Hour snacks while the rest of them top off the drinks and Lindsey tries to do work.

Tangential to the Second (2FC) is my new rock band, The Vinyl Pants, which developed out of a particularly festive South Kitchen Friday night. There are Albert and Billy, Atanu, Garga, and Gourab, Andy, and me. Plus perhaps some Emma and other occasionally contributing 2FC members. After our next band practice I think I will make honor the VPs with their very own post.

"Fourth Floor" is my first group and will always hold a place in my heart. Peter was my key into this group, and remains my beloved neighbor and shopping buddy, the best excuse to go into an Abercrombie that ever walked the earth. Tom is my soulmate. Then there are Myrna, Maria, Lisa, the other Tom, Rob, Chris, Bens Woodring and Robbins, Giorgio, Kyle, Lauren, and the dearly departed Bryan, whom we all miss. Memorable 4FC activities have included our Christmas (Except You, Robbins) Party, the Harvard-Yale game, and Queen's Head Wednesdays.

It's interesting to compare the two groups. I enjoy spending time with both of them equally, but for different reasons. When I hang with the 4FC, we often get ourselves embroiled in deeply fascinating conversations about academic, philosophical, or political matters. This rarely happens in 2FC, which can be taken as both a pro and a con of each group. I think this difference owes itself to the fact that 4FC hails from a more diverse group of majors and has more Europeans in it. In 2FC, y contrast, we insult each other a lot, with very, very quick humor. The whole thing resembles some offbeat sitcom. We laugh a lot. We make music.

I love my friends.

On the academic front, my lab sample request has been submitted, and my llama domestication paper has been turned in. I'm drowning in Japanese archaeological thought at the moment and wishing I'd chosen to write about anime. On Sunday, from noon to midnight, is our China take-home final. I have no idea what to expect from that, but afterwards I have a full week to write my five- to seven-page China paper. From the 18th to the 30th, I have no obligations, save whatever labwork becomes possible that early on, band practice, toning in the gym with Emma, editing NaNoWriMo, roleplaying, and hanging out with aforementioned friends.

Finally, the PRIMARIES! This sure has turned out to be an exciting race. I'm pretty happy with the way things have been going. I really like Obama, but I wish I liked him more. People are finally starting to acknowledge Edwards, though I'm sure he won't win, and Clinton...well, I have to say, I'm not terribily surprised. What party is dumb enough to nominate a candidate that so many people (through no fault of her own) hate? I happen to think Hillary would be a good President, but it will be nice to have a reprieve from the Clinton-Bush family feud. I suppose honestly it's still anybody's game, though I'd all but bet my paycheck on Obama, and do it with a smile.

On the Republican side, while none of the candidates are remotely reasonable, at least autocracreep Giuliani and numbskull Romney have been knocked off their frontrunner perches. Huckabee is a nutcase, and would make a sickening President, but I think the electorate -- and even his own party -- know that and won't let it happen. McCain's war stance made me lose a lot of respect for him, but I've always admired his environmentalism and felt bad for what he suffered from the Bush campaign in 2000. He's always been my pick for lesser of nine evils. The flip side of that is, if too many independents like him enough, he might be able to pull votes away from Obama, which would be really lame.

It was 65 degrees this afternoon in Cambridge. Crazy, crazy world.