As I write this, I am eating pancakes and sitting in the corner of my room where my bedroom door and closet door intersect (I recently discovered--this morning--that this is the best place to catch the warm air as it exits the vent), fuming over earlier events from tonight. At this point in time, due to my limited funds reserved for the heating bill as well as the onset of this cold spell, I have no immediate desire for my blood pressure to lower because I at least want to stay warm until I snuggle up in bed. What transpired, however, is something that I think you will all want to hear.
I am in a night class. Had I had my way, this would not have happened. This class, though, is semi-required, and so it came about that I signed away my Wednesday nights from 6-9pm to Intro to Communication Theory. I have had classes at this time before, and I had noticed a trend in that I always seemed to find these classes particularly odious--whether because I had such an intense dislike for the subject matter, the time, or a combination of the two is still unclear--so I was particularly worried about having this class fill the exact same time slot.
My fears were answered the first day of class when I accidentally fell asleep during lecture and dreamed I was taking notes.
The professor hardly endeared himself to me this week, the second week, when we somehow began talking about how people tend to believe tall people more than short people, possibly because the general population believes that a shorter person thinks they have more to prove. The professor began talking about how whenever presidents are shown on tv, they are always shot from below, giving the appearance that they are much taller than they actually are.
"Like Richard Nixon," Professor said. "He was this tall." He held out his arm perpendicular to his body, creating a perfect 90 degree angle in his armpit. "I know. I've stood next to him. But you wouldn't guess he was only this tall by looking at him on tv. That's because they exaggerate the camera angle."
I was a bit surprised by this, but Nixon being well before my time, I was easily convinced that he was the president who also carried the title "Shortest President."
Professor continued talking about other presidents, placing Obama in the "6 foot range" and Dubya in the "mid- to high-five feet range." Given what I'd seen of the two of them, I found these very general representations of their heights to be accurate. I, however, do not consider myself to be a particularly political person, and therefore cannot consider myself to be quite the authority that some are on presidential heights.
Then Professor got a bit more into my territory.
"And how tall do you think Brad Pitt is?" he asked the class. I heard some estimations from around the class, mostly around the 5'10" and 5'9" range.
"FIVE FOOT FOUR!" Professor revealed to us. There was a general murmur of "bullshit" throughout the room immediately following the announcement.
"Are you sure you're not thinking of Ben Stiller?" someone asked.
"Or Tom Cruise?" asked another.
"No, no. It's true," Professor informed us. "He only looks taller because Angelina Jolie is such a tiny thing. And I know this because Brad Pitt was in the movie 'The Mexican,' with Julia Roberts. Do you know how tall Julia Roberts is? SIX FEET TALL."
By this point, everyone had pulled out their laptops, cell phones, and iPods to look up Professor's statistics. I heard one of the TAs sitting behind me whisper to the other sitting beside her, "It's a new age."
"And in the movie 'The Mexican,'" he continued, "They had to have Brad Pitt stand on a ramp to make him appear taller than Julia Roberts so they could be like the image we have in our minds of what a couple should look like--with the man taller than the woman."
I was among those who had immediately turned to my iPod for verification of my teacher's blatant incorrectness. Searching Google, I quickly found my answer--Brad Pitt is somewhere between 5'9" and 5'10", though he lists himself as 5'11"--right where we predicted he would be, and a good half foot taller than Professor claimed him to be. Moving on to Julia, I discovered that, rather than being 6 feet tall, Roberts stands a bit above average at 5'8". Rather than being eight inches taller than Brad Pitt, she was two or three inches shorter. The necessity of the ramp Professor claimed they had used in filming the movie had changed from being a necessary prop to make Brad Pitt taller than his co-star, to being a prop that merely amplified the difference between their heights.
And, finally, on to former President Nixon. After finding his height, I spent the last forty-five minutes of class trying to gauge the height of Professor. He seemed to be a fairly average height, probably "in the six foot range" though I couldn't determine much beyond that. His waist hit at about the same height as the counter to the table that served as a desk at the front of the room. Were I to stand at the desk, the counter would probably hit just above my navel. Keep in mind, though, that I possess abnormally short legs. No, as far as I could tell, Professor is of fairly average height, not the extreme height of 6'6" or 6'7" (possibly higher depending on head size and neck length) that he would have to be for a 5'11-1/2" Richard Nixon (the tallest in this trio, I will note) to come just to his shoulder.
Given, he never told us at what age Nixon stood next to him--a pre-pubescent Nixon could easily have been the one to which he was referring--but with the authority and importance that he made his statement, I can only imagine that he stood beside Nixon at some point during his presidency, pre-Watergate.
I quickly lost all faith in Professor, and for good reason. Telling us, with such authority no less, that Brad Pitt is about the size of a jockey just about killed me. When I told someone in Prague that I was a Communications major, he promptly responded that at his school, girls who were Communications majors were really just in for their M-R-S degrees. This major being such an obvious joke, I really have to wonder how it is that a professor could be so blatantly misinformed about one of the most important celebrities of our time.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Office
Boss: Emily, do you want to come roller skating with us?
ER: Excuse me?
Boss: I'm trying to get a group together to go to the roller rink next Friday. Do you want to come?
ER: Can I wear my roller disco outfit?
ER: Excuse me?
Boss: I'm trying to get a group together to go to the roller rink next Friday. Do you want to come?
ER: Can I wear my roller disco outfit?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Heat
I am considering putting on a pair of gloves. Now that I am forced to pay for my own heat, I have decided that 60 degrees is warm enough to survive. If I want to get warm, I will just have to cozy up under my blankets. It's that simple. This just goes to show that college is not all about the pain of a week-long all-nighter and unbearable, unmanageable stress. It's also about learning to endure discomfort (like being cold) so that you can have other pleasures (like Jimmy Johns for lunch).
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Bixby's Observations
I realize that because my trip is now over that technically this [travel] blog should be complete as well. I find myself at home again and completely over my jetlag (though I still tell people I am jetlagged just so they don't judge me for going to be at 10 o'clock every night over winter break), so I feel like a conclusion post should be in order. However, I am not in the mood to conclude this, or to even sum up my adventures. I'm sure that will come at some point in the near future. At this point in time, though, I am going to tell a little story.
I took my car in to the auto repair shop formerly known as Al & Lou's today. Apparently the brake light in the back window was burned out and, because I am headed back to school tomorrow in this car, the repair of this particular feature made it onto my to-do short list, along with getting a throat culture and buying an adapter to allow me to play my iPod in the car.
To pass the hour where Clyde was in the possession of the maintenance man, I headed over to Bixby's, ordered a Jumpin' Monkey, and settled myself into a black leather armchair by the window. I cast a cursory glance at the people surrounding me, most of whom appeared to be hard at work--a few were with their laptops.
It wasn't until I had turned on some Blink, for old time's sake, that I really examined my surroundings. It was during this second examination that, in the middle of What's My Age Again?, I found my attention drawn to the cover of the laptop of the girl sitting closest to me. A hot pink post-it, partially covering the Toshiba logo, was what had drawn my attention to her.
Before I say anything else, I will admit that I am a fan of using post-its as reminders. They are the paper created purely as a reminder tool; they stick to mostly everything and come in an assortment of colors to ensure that your attention is drawn to them. In general, though, I do tend to keep my private post-its...private.
It was obvious to me, in reading this girl's post-it, that she too was a strong proponent of post-it use, though perhaps the privacy issue for her was not something that took such a prominent place in her mind. Written in large green letters on the hot pink post-it were the words,
"Plan B!!"
I realize Plan B could mean many different things, but given the current contraceptive connotations of the phrase combined with the reminding nature of post-its, I nearly felt obligated to do my part as well and be a reminder, in addition to the post-it, to ensure that she would not miss that important 12 or 24 or 48 hour (or however long it is) mark. After this brief consideration, however, I instead opted to just take a picture of the situation, using it as a kind of congratulatory device for myself in that I have never allowed my private post-its to become public.
I took my car in to the auto repair shop formerly known as Al & Lou's today. Apparently the brake light in the back window was burned out and, because I am headed back to school tomorrow in this car, the repair of this particular feature made it onto my to-do short list, along with getting a throat culture and buying an adapter to allow me to play my iPod in the car.
To pass the hour where Clyde was in the possession of the maintenance man, I headed over to Bixby's, ordered a Jumpin' Monkey, and settled myself into a black leather armchair by the window. I cast a cursory glance at the people surrounding me, most of whom appeared to be hard at work--a few were with their laptops.
It wasn't until I had turned on some Blink, for old time's sake, that I really examined my surroundings. It was during this second examination that, in the middle of What's My Age Again?, I found my attention drawn to the cover of the laptop of the girl sitting closest to me. A hot pink post-it, partially covering the Toshiba logo, was what had drawn my attention to her.
Before I say anything else, I will admit that I am a fan of using post-its as reminders. They are the paper created purely as a reminder tool; they stick to mostly everything and come in an assortment of colors to ensure that your attention is drawn to them. In general, though, I do tend to keep my private post-its...private.
It was obvious to me, in reading this girl's post-it, that she too was a strong proponent of post-it use, though perhaps the privacy issue for her was not something that took such a prominent place in her mind. Written in large green letters on the hot pink post-it were the words,
"Plan B!!"
I realize Plan B could mean many different things, but given the current contraceptive connotations of the phrase combined with the reminding nature of post-its, I nearly felt obligated to do my part as well and be a reminder, in addition to the post-it, to ensure that she would not miss that important 12 or 24 or 48 hour (or however long it is) mark. After this brief consideration, however, I instead opted to just take a picture of the situation, using it as a kind of congratulatory device for myself in that I have never allowed my private post-its to become public.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Enjoyable and Joyous Occasions
Happy 2010!
I would apologize for not having written since December 15th, but I won't. The events that kept me from writing were just too enjoyable and joyous occasions.
The first enjoyable occasion was the arrival of Trevor in Prague on December 16th. He was in Prague until the 22nd and spent more time following me around seeing what my life was like in Prague than he did actually seeing the sights and city of Prague. I don't consider it to be too much of a loss, but I can understand how he could maybe feel a bit disappointed by this.
The first joyous occasion was my graduation from the CIEE study abroad program. I have a certificate that verifies this, as well as my own personal verification that comes in the form of new knowledge derived from a semester spent abroad.
The second enjoyable occasion was the arrival of the rest of the Oachs crew on the 19th. They came on a plane. We spent some time in Prague, though I have to say I feel a bit sorry for them because for most of the tourist-y things they told me they wanted to do, I felt the need to tell them that it wasn't worth it and they should just skip it (ex: Astronomical Clock--my friend Tanya decided its tagline should be "Always a disappointment"). So they would either skip out on what is considered by some to be a "Prague" must-see, or else they would bring me along where I would have a minor breakdown, all because I'd seen it too many times before. Eventually we developed a system where I would take them to their first point of interest, and then, after spending some family bonding time there with them, I would hand them a map with the rest of their route mapped out and a slip of paper telling them important trams and tram stops, and then I would continue on my way, generally just taking up residence in the apartment we rented for the week and reading Watership Down.
Joyous occasion #2 came in the form of a farewell--a farewell to Prague. While it treated me mostly well for the semester (please see My Body Is Falling Apart for times when Prague was not so nice to me). On the night of Christmas Day, the Hahn-Oachs family hit up the midnight train to Georgia (well, 11:23 train to Vienna) and I made my (nearly) final leave of Prague (I spent another seven hours in Prague on December 28th while waiting to catch a bus to Amsterdam). I was more than happy to leave behind Prague, its narrow streets, short buildings, and streets paved with cobblestones and dog poop. The parting, however, was a bit sad, and I have to say that at some point in the future, I'm sure I will find something to miss about it. I would also like to point out that for the two weeks prior to my departure from Prague, I was nursing a particularly nasty cold. Said cold began clearing up as soon as we arrived in Vienna. Coincidence? You may interpret the facts as you so choose.
Enjoyable occasion #3: We arrived in Vienna just before 7am on December 26th. We went to our hotel immediately, expecting to have to store our bags in a locked room and then hole up in a coffee shop for a few hours, feverishly drinking espressos while trying to gear ourselves up for a long day--made even longer by the semi-sleepless night we had passed the night before on the train--of Vienna sightseeing. But when we arrived at the hotel, we were able to check-in, despite the fact that the sun had not yet risen. The four of us headed to our rooms and took naps until nine, when we got up, had free breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and began seeing the Vienna sights, hours before my family was ever able to get moving while we were in Prague (in Prague, I would tell them to be ready by 9 or 9:30 so they would have ample to take their time in seeing the "good" Prague sights, though between 8:30 and 9, I would wake up and have to rouse them from their beds, at 10 o'clock breakfast would usually be finished and the tea drunk, and by 11 we would have our things in order and be headed out the door).
Enjoyable occasion #4: Vienna Boys Choir. We saw them in a church. It is the only time that I have ever paid to get into a service, and then had a communion plate passed around as well.
Joyous occasion #3: My family had to leave the hotel at 4:30 in the morning on December 28th to get to the airport in time for their flight to Amsterdam (where they were held up in security for hours, it sounds like). I left the hotel at 10:30, well-rested and excited to continue my travels, taking a bus from Vienna to Prague, with a 7-hour "layover" there, and then leaving Prague to arrive 17 hours later in Amsterdam.
Enjoyable occasion #5: Seeing Trevor in Amsterdam. We have also, thus far, seen the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. Tomorrow we are also going on a day trip to Delft.
Joyous occasion #4: Of all the joyous occasions that have occurred since the end of the program, I feel that this one is most notable. I SURVIVED NEW YEARS EVE IN AMSTERDAM. I am not speaking of the festivities surrounding the New Years celebration actually within the city center. It is true that I did survive this, though for a while I was positive that I was going to be killed by a rogue firework or else suffocated from the sulphuric scent that resulted from the explosion of said fireworks, and at one point I was positive that I was going to die from burst bladder, merely because every business was either closed or had closed their toilets. The part of New Years that I am most happy that I survived was tent camping on a desolate plain next to an ice-covered canal in Amsterdam. For the rest of our stay in Amsterdam, Trevor and I have been staying in cabins at the same campground where we slept last night. These cabins are God's gift to campers--they come with bunk beds, bedding, electricity, and, most importantly, HEAT. Needless to say, Trevor's tent does not come equipped with bunk beds--though he does have a sleeping bag--electricity, or heat. It was a cold night, close to freezing, and Trevor and I had to squeeze into the sleeping bag together (he was worried about it ripping) fully clothed--right down to hats, scarves, and gloves, and throughout the night had to keep breaking open new hand and feet warmers that we had found at a sporting goods store earlier in the day to try to keep our bodies thawed. It was the combination of the freezing of various body parts and my being forced to sleep in one position the entire night that caused my entire body to be sore and stiff this morning. I can only imagine how I must have looked to drivers this morning as I walked to the tram stop--I think it must have been a walk something like that of a gnarled old woman whose better days are more a thing of legend than memory.
So there you are all up to date on what's happening in my life at the moment. I fly out of the Amsterdam airport on Tuesday morning (though I almost feel like I should get to the airport Monday night, both to save money on housing and to make sure that I get through security in time for my flight).
Happy 2010 everyone! I hope it had a great start and that it will only get better!
ER
I would apologize for not having written since December 15th, but I won't. The events that kept me from writing were just too enjoyable and joyous occasions.
The first enjoyable occasion was the arrival of Trevor in Prague on December 16th. He was in Prague until the 22nd and spent more time following me around seeing what my life was like in Prague than he did actually seeing the sights and city of Prague. I don't consider it to be too much of a loss, but I can understand how he could maybe feel a bit disappointed by this.
The first joyous occasion was my graduation from the CIEE study abroad program. I have a certificate that verifies this, as well as my own personal verification that comes in the form of new knowledge derived from a semester spent abroad.
The second enjoyable occasion was the arrival of the rest of the Oachs crew on the 19th. They came on a plane. We spent some time in Prague, though I have to say I feel a bit sorry for them because for most of the tourist-y things they told me they wanted to do, I felt the need to tell them that it wasn't worth it and they should just skip it (ex: Astronomical Clock--my friend Tanya decided its tagline should be "Always a disappointment"). So they would either skip out on what is considered by some to be a "Prague" must-see, or else they would bring me along where I would have a minor breakdown, all because I'd seen it too many times before. Eventually we developed a system where I would take them to their first point of interest, and then, after spending some family bonding time there with them, I would hand them a map with the rest of their route mapped out and a slip of paper telling them important trams and tram stops, and then I would continue on my way, generally just taking up residence in the apartment we rented for the week and reading Watership Down.
Joyous occasion #2 came in the form of a farewell--a farewell to Prague. While it treated me mostly well for the semester (please see My Body Is Falling Apart for times when Prague was not so nice to me). On the night of Christmas Day, the Hahn-Oachs family hit up the midnight train to Georgia (well, 11:23 train to Vienna) and I made my (nearly) final leave of Prague (I spent another seven hours in Prague on December 28th while waiting to catch a bus to Amsterdam). I was more than happy to leave behind Prague, its narrow streets, short buildings, and streets paved with cobblestones and dog poop. The parting, however, was a bit sad, and I have to say that at some point in the future, I'm sure I will find something to miss about it. I would also like to point out that for the two weeks prior to my departure from Prague, I was nursing a particularly nasty cold. Said cold began clearing up as soon as we arrived in Vienna. Coincidence? You may interpret the facts as you so choose.
Enjoyable occasion #3: We arrived in Vienna just before 7am on December 26th. We went to our hotel immediately, expecting to have to store our bags in a locked room and then hole up in a coffee shop for a few hours, feverishly drinking espressos while trying to gear ourselves up for a long day--made even longer by the semi-sleepless night we had passed the night before on the train--of Vienna sightseeing. But when we arrived at the hotel, we were able to check-in, despite the fact that the sun had not yet risen. The four of us headed to our rooms and took naps until nine, when we got up, had free breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and began seeing the Vienna sights, hours before my family was ever able to get moving while we were in Prague (in Prague, I would tell them to be ready by 9 or 9:30 so they would have ample to take their time in seeing the "good" Prague sights, though between 8:30 and 9, I would wake up and have to rouse them from their beds, at 10 o'clock breakfast would usually be finished and the tea drunk, and by 11 we would have our things in order and be headed out the door).
Enjoyable occasion #4: Vienna Boys Choir. We saw them in a church. It is the only time that I have ever paid to get into a service, and then had a communion plate passed around as well.
Joyous occasion #3: My family had to leave the hotel at 4:30 in the morning on December 28th to get to the airport in time for their flight to Amsterdam (where they were held up in security for hours, it sounds like). I left the hotel at 10:30, well-rested and excited to continue my travels, taking a bus from Vienna to Prague, with a 7-hour "layover" there, and then leaving Prague to arrive 17 hours later in Amsterdam.
Enjoyable occasion #5: Seeing Trevor in Amsterdam. We have also, thus far, seen the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. Tomorrow we are also going on a day trip to Delft.
Joyous occasion #4: Of all the joyous occasions that have occurred since the end of the program, I feel that this one is most notable. I SURVIVED NEW YEARS EVE IN AMSTERDAM. I am not speaking of the festivities surrounding the New Years celebration actually within the city center. It is true that I did survive this, though for a while I was positive that I was going to be killed by a rogue firework or else suffocated from the sulphuric scent that resulted from the explosion of said fireworks, and at one point I was positive that I was going to die from burst bladder, merely because every business was either closed or had closed their toilets. The part of New Years that I am most happy that I survived was tent camping on a desolate plain next to an ice-covered canal in Amsterdam. For the rest of our stay in Amsterdam, Trevor and I have been staying in cabins at the same campground where we slept last night. These cabins are God's gift to campers--they come with bunk beds, bedding, electricity, and, most importantly, HEAT. Needless to say, Trevor's tent does not come equipped with bunk beds--though he does have a sleeping bag--electricity, or heat. It was a cold night, close to freezing, and Trevor and I had to squeeze into the sleeping bag together (he was worried about it ripping) fully clothed--right down to hats, scarves, and gloves, and throughout the night had to keep breaking open new hand and feet warmers that we had found at a sporting goods store earlier in the day to try to keep our bodies thawed. It was the combination of the freezing of various body parts and my being forced to sleep in one position the entire night that caused my entire body to be sore and stiff this morning. I can only imagine how I must have looked to drivers this morning as I walked to the tram stop--I think it must have been a walk something like that of a gnarled old woman whose better days are more a thing of legend than memory.
So there you are all up to date on what's happening in my life at the moment. I fly out of the Amsterdam airport on Tuesday morning (though I almost feel like I should get to the airport Monday night, both to save money on housing and to make sure that I get through security in time for my flight).
Happy 2010 everyone! I hope it had a great start and that it will only get better!
ER
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sauerkraut
I suppose it's fitting, in some way, that in my last week living in Prague with my host family that they would give me sauerkraut. It's one of the national foods, I'm pretty sure, right after everything fried, fatty, and greasy that you can think of. So, as a fond farewell, they gave me dumplings, meat, and sauerkraut (a Czech tv dinner, actually) for dinner tonight. It actually wasn't my farewell dinner, but I can't think of anything more "Czech" that they could have given me.
HOWEVER. I have to say that this at this "farewell dinner," there were not tears just because it was a "farewell" or because they fed me sauerkraut. In fact, there were no tears over sauerkraut. And this is exactly why they were tears. When they handed me my plate with dumplings lining the outside edge and the meat completely covered by the veritable pile of sauerkraut, I cheered inside. I knew that this moment was going to come at some point--for the last week, I have found myself thinking of sauerkraut at night, about the same time that I start thinking about bed.
The time that I set aside for thinking about bed is a sacred time. Bed is possibly one of my favorite parts of the day (I attribute it to my love of sitting back and watching the dreams my unconscious hands to me, rather than actually just enjoying being unconscious), particularly in the last week since I've been particularly tired and sick lately.
SAUERKRAUT SHOULD NOT BE GIVEN THE SAME STATUS AS BED.
Unfortunately, it was. I tried to deny it as much as possible, but when the bell dinged on the microwave, and a steaming hot plate of knedliky and sauerkraut was carried into the room, there was nothing I could do but sigh in relief that they had finally given me this. It has been months since they have fed it to me--I think they must have noticed that whenever they would feed it to me, I would eat very little of it while polishing off the meat and dumplings. They must have picked up on it somehow. And, now, two or three months later, I had to shed a silent tear as they placed the plate in front of me, not for that fact that they were giving it to me, but for the fact that it had taken them this long to give it to me again.
HOWEVER. I have to say that this at this "farewell dinner," there were not tears just because it was a "farewell" or because they fed me sauerkraut. In fact, there were no tears over sauerkraut. And this is exactly why they were tears. When they handed me my plate with dumplings lining the outside edge and the meat completely covered by the veritable pile of sauerkraut, I cheered inside. I knew that this moment was going to come at some point--for the last week, I have found myself thinking of sauerkraut at night, about the same time that I start thinking about bed.
The time that I set aside for thinking about bed is a sacred time. Bed is possibly one of my favorite parts of the day (I attribute it to my love of sitting back and watching the dreams my unconscious hands to me, rather than actually just enjoying being unconscious), particularly in the last week since I've been particularly tired and sick lately.
SAUERKRAUT SHOULD NOT BE GIVEN THE SAME STATUS AS BED.
Unfortunately, it was. I tried to deny it as much as possible, but when the bell dinged on the microwave, and a steaming hot plate of knedliky and sauerkraut was carried into the room, there was nothing I could do but sigh in relief that they had finally given me this. It has been months since they have fed it to me--I think they must have noticed that whenever they would feed it to me, I would eat very little of it while polishing off the meat and dumplings. They must have picked up on it somehow. And, now, two or three months later, I had to shed a silent tear as they placed the plate in front of me, not for that fact that they were giving it to me, but for the fact that it had taken them this long to give it to me again.
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