Spoilers and Links!

And now I’m right back at school and with so many interesting, challenging, fun things to do before now and when I go back home in two and a half weeks.  Wow.  Such a short amount of time before I’m heading right back, yet everyone makes it out to be such a long time.  But really, that’s two weeks of classes (and, oh you know, five exams), six chapters of psych to read, one stats assignment, three art projects, and Mrs Dalloway to finish up.  And then four/five finals!  I can do it, I can do it!

This weekend, I’m taking two days out on Friday and Saturday in order to make a (spoilers) for my mum for her joint birthday and Christmas present.  I’ll tell you what it is after I give her the gift, and I’ll be sure to put up pictures (with my new Nikon Coolpix that needs to be removed from its box).  Rest assured that it is something both artsy and never previously done by me.  My art professor is giving a class to a few of us about how to make unsaid object, so it will be pretty exciting to learn a new skill (even if I will be probably horrible at it).  I’ll give you a hint if you promise not to tell my mum, though.

Anyway, Thanksgiving holidays went well, though I saw less of my friends than I had anticipated.  I had two delicious meals with my mum’s side of the family and also with my dad’s/sister’s, was able to visit my work and chat with the managers, went to a bonfire with friends, and I even went Black Friday shopping to get money off of some boots I had bought a few days before ($100 off of the original price is incentive enough for me to brave the hordes of shoppers).  Somehow, Noah and I found a spot at the very, very front of where we wanted to be at the mall.  And thank God, because otherwise, it meant parking at least a half mile away, which would require us to cross seven lanes of very busy traffic.

But I spent a lot of time reading comics (such as Questionable Content and xkcd) and watching old episodes of Cowboy Bebop, which sort of felt like me from eighth grade coming to punch me in the face.  After six years of travelling, it’s built up some momentum.  My brother also gave me all of Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law before he set out to move in with my dad, which, yes, happened on Sunday.  Hopefully he will be getting along a lot better down in Florida than here in Missouri where it’s just constant bickering.

The rain is coming in now, though, with chilly winds and so little light that it should be criminal.  I’ll set off to listen to more Natacha Atlas songs on Youtube so that I can decide which of her albums to buy today since I have a coupon from Amazon.  Oh, decisions, decisions.  Halim or Gedida?  Both are awesome albums of Egyptian/Arabic/French songs blended with electronic, hip hop beats.  She’s like listening to a young generation from the Gaza Strip.  So I’ll leave you to go decide on an album, though there’s really no wrong choice; both that I’ve previewed are amazing.

PS: If there were any more links in this post, I’m pretty sure WordPress would explode.  I just thought it would be fun to give some examples and references to you folks for all of the crazy things I chat about.

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This is why I now trust flash flood warnings for Kirksville

Shortly after I wrote my last post, the storm starting to pick up, bring torrential downpours and constant lightening.  I was watching it all unfold from my bed along with Noah and Abby, when I realised that there seemed to be a lake forming in front of my window.  Curiosity getting the best of me, I slipped on my rain boots, grabbed an umbrella, and ran out into the storm.

RAIN.  THUNDER.  LIGHTENING.  AND PUDDLES UP TO MY KNEES!

Wait, up to my knees?

Yes.

The building directly next to MO Hall is OP, our music and arts building, and the back entrance is pretty much a pit.  Water had started to gather in this pit outside of the doors since the sewers were so full that the water was actually gushing back out.  After only fifteen minutes of rain, there was a foot and a half of water in front of the doors, making them unopenable (which was a fear by my friend James who was inside of OP as it was happening).  And, looking in, with the water spilling into my boots and the rain lashing at me from every direction, I realised that OP was flooding.  Actually flooding.  Over one hundred feet in, you could see water flowing into the building.

I immediately ran back to the dorms, yelling at everyone in the lounge that it was actually flooding (as opposed to me exaggerating).  Noah and Jenn came with me only five minutes later, but by that point, the rain had suddenly gone from stormy downpour to stormy sprinkle, and the foot and a half of water had immediately receeded.  But the same could not be said for the water in OP.  It was pushing further and further into the building, and more students started showing up to see what it had reached.  Quickly, several students started clearing the water out of our performance hall and instrument storage areas with bath towels and stolen mops.

Noah and I, without knowing that the students were starting to clean up, ran out to go to Red Barn Park, a quaint park on campus with a small stream running through it.  But when we got to even the Quad, we realised that there were worse floods on campus–the quad had filled in to create a foot tall lake, Magruder had flooded with water and mud all the way into the basement and lab areas, and everything along the small, usually six inches deep stream was flooded.  We’re talking ten plus feet of water running through this stream, over filling onto roads, taking over entire parking lots, cars having to be towed because the water was literally inside of them.

And Red Barn Park?

Red Barn Lake.  It was so flooded that you could only see the top foot of railing from a bridge that normally stood about six feet over the stream.  This would make the stream (and surrounding areas of grass and picnic tables), I don’t know, ten feet deep?  Yeah, about.

But you know what?  Destruction is pretty cool.  Sure, it’s messy and inconvenient, but it brings people together and makes for some awesome memories.  I mean, Noah and I met a ton of other people on campus who were roaming around to see the flood damage, and it’s still so neat that we can pick up conversations with complete strangers and have adventures after only knowing each other for a minute.  It’s something I’ve really enjoyed about campus.

So, that’s why I now trust flash flood warnings in Kirksville.  Sure, I’m still not going to trust them when in Saint Charles (Chuck just freaks out because of the rivers), but here, they’re actually pretty serious.

Oh, and I’ll also remember to not park my car any where near the parking lots by the stream.  I don’t want two feet of water inside of my truck.

“Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Love was changing the minds of pretenders
While chasing the clouds away”

–September, EARTH WIND AND FIRE

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Settled back in.

It’s storming.  One of those off and on rains where thunder rumbles in a lower pitch than normal, far out, warning you that the drizzle could pick back up at any moment and then thrash at your windows, knock you down.  The sky, now dark, was the orange of sunset through storm clouds that makes you wonder if there will be a tornado, but you just want to sleep or stare at it instead.  It’s one of those evenings.

Life has settled back down for me at uni.  Classes have picked up, and I’m facing an exam in every class within one week of each other, and now it’s the mad game of reading every chapter that I had put off.  I joined Ceilidh (pronounced Kayleigh) club, which is Irish dancing, and that’s been enjoyable.  Difficult, of course–muscle memory doesn’t just come on it’s own–but enjoyable none the less.  And I rearranged my furniture yesterday to deloft my bed and get a more comfortable layout (yes, there will eventually be pictures).

Today was one of those big visit days on campus where all of the high school seniors come in to tour campus and think about applying, which means that I spent nearly an hour and a half giving tours to families.  It’s one of my favourite activities on campus, and I want to apply to give full campus tours next year (hey, I’m technically a professional tour-guide because of my work–they’ll have to hire me!).  What’s really cool about Truman is that there will be people at each dorm to give a personalised tour of said dorm with just one family at a time; it’s a major improvement over the schools that will take twenty people in a group to see a couple places.  The tours were so much fun, too.  I had great groups of people, including a group of two best-friends who had forgone bringing their parents along for the visit.  They saw my Skittles machine and freaked out, so I let them put in coins to get candy, and when the tour was going to be over, they asked if it had to be over because they were enjoying the tour so much.  So, I just ended up showing them all kind of other places in MO hall, including the room of some people none of us knew but who invited us to see their awesomely artsy room.  All-in-all, a great day of tours (and some people who now for sure want to live in Missouri Hall.  Booyah).

Not much else to say; I’ll finish up with a musical quote that I like and some dorm photos:

“Hundreds of years in the future,
It could be computers
Looking for life on Earth.”

-Coldplay, Twisted Logic

(PS: IT’S TOTALLY STORMING NOW!)

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Holidays in Florida

Day 1 of my Floridian adventures comprised of a relaxed day at the pool and later walking around the beach with my dad.  We cooked food, and I once again ate fish.  And, again, I’ll keep on eating it, even though it makes me feel sluggish and weighty.  Day 2 was filled with grocery shopping and a day at the beach to not just walk around but to swim and sit under our half tent.  Unfortunately, I’m slightly sunburned, hungry, and headache-y.  I’ll be pink for the next few days, and my freckles are getting darker by the minute, I swear.  But, that’s the price I paid and will continue to pay for being outside without sunscreen while being a redhead.  Luckily, there won’t be any blistering or skin damage at this point.  Just some irritation at myself when I look in the mirror (but hey, that’s not uncommon).  I jest.

Anyway, as I like to talk about food as much as possible, here are some of the great things I’ve been eating:

German style buttered bread with Swiss cheese.  It makes the best breakfast.

Sushi.  Yeah, I tried it and found that I’m a fan of the wasabi.

Fish with steamed vegetables, rice, and salad.  Speaking of salads, I’ve been making the best cucumber, avocado, tomato, onion salads.  Add some bleu cheese dressing, and it’s awesome (and that’s coming from the girl who usually doesn’t like to have dressing).  My dad also makes a great Greek salad from just cucumbers, tomatoes, and black olives mixed with this dressing that he makes from combining Greek dressing and Greek spices.  I could have said Greek more times in that sentence, but I didn’t feel like it.

Anyway, here are some photos from the beach as proof that I’m actually down here.  Meanwhile, it’s time to make some asparagus pesto and watch the rain fall down–even if I’m doing more watching than actual cooking.

Day 2 ended by me realising that I’m incredibly sunburned.  Day 3 began with me throwing up and rolling around in nightmares—probably because of the sunburn.  What a stupid, stupid idea to think that I could go out into the sun for four hours without any protection other than shade.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  My shoulders, arms, chest, knees, and even feet are bright pink, and it hurts to even move.  Luckily, though, I bought some Sarna this afternoon (as recommended by my friend Jenn, who had supplied the stuff to my roommate for a sunburn this past spring) and kept mostly inside.  Then again, even staying outside wouldn’t have been too awful, as it’s been raining all day.

As always, I ate fairly well today.  We went to a fruit stand and bought some mango butter and orange-coconut marmalade and later went to Sweet Tomatoes—a fabulous salad and soup buffet.  I’d been once before in Saint Louis a few years back, and the second time was just as good.  I recommend the split pea soup and triple berry green tea while there.  Both are delicious.

The rest of day 3 was spent driving out to a bird sanctuary, only for it pour once we got there.  I still took some pictures and had a bird talk to me (see last post), but we spent an equal amount of time at a local fruit stand, buying the previously mentioned jam products and questioning what fruit was what.  The good of that came with me now knowing what a lychee is.  Yay.

Day 4 was rain.  Lots of rain.  And a very itchy sunburn on my shoulders and chest.  I spent a good deal of the day trying to relieve the pain and itch with Sarna, lotion, et cetera, none of which did the job as well as simply distracting myself—which came in the form of eating super hot peppers.  My dad was cooking up some ceviche when Olga and I heard a mighty WHELP come from the kitchen.  There stood my dad, flinging his hands and trying to get the pepper from his mouth.  Even a tiny sliver had turned his mouth on fire.  He gave me a piece the size of an ant (literally), and I didn’t think much of it.  So I ate a slice the size of two ants, in which my dad gave me an odd look.  Olga came and took a similar bite, which immediately found itself on the kitchen floor along with a slew of Russian in complaint.  So I ate an entire sliver.  Still nothing.  It was a little spicy, but about the same as any salsa.  I wondered what was broken with me since I felt practically nothing from the pepper but decided not to care because I had finally stopped itching.  I would try the same thing the next day by just taking a bite out of the pepper.  The pepper then immediately found itself not on the floor, but in the trash, along with the remnants that were in my mouth.  OH GOD!!  My mouth wasn’t just on fire.  It was the most painfully spicy thing I have ever felt in my life!  I immediately poured orange juice down my throat as it was closest.  Then tried to immediately stuff a banana along with it, then two cups of milk, then an ice cube, then tea, then anything else I could find to stop the burning.  And it still burned—for a half hour, actually.  My dad got home after fifteen minutes of my burning adventure and found me sucking on an ice cube on the couch, not even paying attention to Anthony Bourdain in the background.  He told me I should do it again and let me film him; it would be a hit on YouTube.  I declined the offer.

Much of day 4 was rain, though.  Heavy rain that ended our plans of seeing fireworks for Fourth of July.  We would have gone to the beach, two miles away, to see a wonderful display from the pier.  But, it rained, and we stayed at home, watching the telly and eating leftover asparagus pesto, mushrooms, and berries.

Day 5 was even more rain, but we didn’t know about it until we had reached the riverfront in Fort Lauderdale for fifteen minutes.  Then it poured.  Poured until you could barely see anything, and we were trapped under trees and awnings, shoes saturated, my pants and vest completely saturated, hair sticking to my face in wet tendrils.  Miserable weather, and I was still wet even after a full hour of lunch at a café (where I had marguerite pizza—so good).  As we were still wet, we braved the rain a little further with our umbrellas to see shops selling shirts for 300 dollars and ice cream for an equally ridiculous price.  Though, even with the price, it might have been worth it: think roasted coconut rolled in chocolate and then put into vanilla ice cream.  Absolutely freaking delicious.

Later in the afternoon and evening, my dad and I made some tea and chatted it up on the porch, watched Anthony Bourdain (as I only realised today that there has been a marathon because of the new season starting Monday), and ate ceviche.  I also tried stuffed tea leaves (interesting with a lot of vinegar and a very earthly flavour from all of the tea) and Mediterranean/Russian olives (so salty, that I had to run for some orange juice to wash my mouth out).

Any times in between have been spent lounging about with my computer: playing Sims or internetting or reading Great Expectations (surprisingly good) and my favourite fanfiction which I saved into a Word document (the only fanfiction I’ve ever enjoyed and a secret guilty pleasure).  I’ve been trying to update my wordpress for days, but I’ve only managed one little post from when I went to a bird sanctuary that we quickly left from because of the rain.  I certainly brought the rain with me; suppose I’ll have to go back up to Saint Charles to get rid of it.  And here I leave you.

Leave you with a picture of Anthony Bourdain–love of my life, right after Chris Thile.

“Missi is fucking awesome and has great taste in food.”

Really, Anthony?  Aw, love you, too.

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Oh yes…

…I know where I’ll be this November.  Oh no…I don’t know where I’ll be in two weeks.

Dear goodness, the final weeks are upon us at university, and the realisation that I will be back home in less than two weeks slightly terrifies me.  Part of it is the looming desire to get a job that I just can’t get.  The other part is the angry rumble of finals starting this week and lasting until 7 May, which, by the way, is my birthday.

Now, I won’t say that I feel so old, because damn-it, nineteen was never meant to be old, but I won’t say that I’m particularly thrilled with getting to be another year older.  And it’s funny, too, because I used to scoff at people who feared their next birthday.  Sure, I don’t really fear the 7th.  I’m already an adult, so what can another year do aside from lower my drivers insurance?  But it’s still an odd realisation that I’m two years from drinking age, four from when I’ll have to get my own insurance, and six years from when I hit that middle bump in the twenties.  All of this is coming closer like a squall line.  You see it moving awfully slow, but before you know it, the rain comes.

Squalls have been moving in quite a lot lately, and my window gets pelted with mist and water droplets continuously.  It’s relaxing to just sit with the window open, feeling the mist pour into the room and stick to the cover of a National Geographic in hand.  Because, as we all know, I’m an addict for National Geographic magazines.  Add in some NPR, BBC News, and a cup of tea, and I’m set.  Set to be either educated or a fifty-two year old man: you decide.

Really, though, this grandmum of a girl has no clue where she’s going.  In two weeks, will I be getting calls about my volunteer job that the State said I’d get?  Or will I be listening to some Joanna Newsom and painting?  Never before have I been so fearful of what I’m doing in my future; I’ve always been a planner who knew exactly where she was going.  But the summer is a gaping hole in my vision.  Once uni starts up again, I’ll be right back in the swing of things: I know where I’m living, how my room will be set up, what classes I’ll be taking, the clubs I’ll be in…  I even know that I will be seeing Harry Potter in the theatres and Muse in concert in November.  Oh yes, MUSE!

I rant and rave about my favourite bands–Nickel Creek, Vampire Weekend, Regina Spektor, et cetera–and Muse is no exception.  I’m incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to see them and be in good seats.  The only downside is that buying tickets didn’t go according to plan, so my group will not all be sitting together.  But, such is life.  I figure that I did the best I could, so it’s time to except what it will be, get the fuck over everything, and just muse at, well, Muse.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with a poem.  It’s nothing fantastic, but I feel like I should add some of my more creative works onto this blog as well.

– – –

Invisible and present only to reflections

in glass ponds upon southern streets,

Drift the tears of ghosts once

scattered by the angels.

They miss the sun piercing the hearts;

the hearts of blossoms in mourning

of a spring that never came.

But Mason jars brushed with dust

lie in the arms of the angels

who wait beneath the spektors’ cry.

Sweet circles echo upon the mirrors;

rubbish from the point-of-view

of those so desperate to touch God.

And so, invisible be the mourning,

never viewed by the humans

who pass by the blossoms,

still lit in cold,

but in the pools of glass on southern streets.

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Tapioca Pudding

I’m fairly certain that God was making tapioca pudding last night.  He mixed the ingredients well, cooked it up, then placed in a large glass bowl and into the refrigerator so it could cool.  Unfortunately, God hasn’t updated his kitchen in a while (after all of the years, who can keep track of the last remodelling, anyway?), and it seems the back of his fridge must have fallen off recently.  You can tell because all of the tapioca pudding in the pretty glass dish has crashed upon Kirksville.

I awoke this morning to the sounds of thunder and Nickel Creek, a surprising combination.  Minutes after, I was reawakened by the sound of sharp rain.  Loud rain.  Only after I got out of my lofted bed did I realise that it was sleet and freezing rain.  So when I finally walked to class at 8.30, I became suddenly aware of what must have happened to God’s pudding.

All around was the ice.  Plastered to trees, railings, and the ground.  That must have been that pretty glass bowl.  And mixed in was the tapioca.  Thick like fish eggs all over the ground, giving your morning walk to class a gushy and otherwise slippery sensation.

Poor God, I suppose he’ll have to make some more pudding for lunch.  Luckily, it shouldn’t take too long.  And maybe He’ll find that it’s time to renovate the kitchen.

A small example of this tapioca pudding sleet.

With every step, you could hear the trees creak and moan.  The weight of the ice has probably caused some limb damage around Kirksville.

My bike has seen quite a beating over the past few months.  Poor thing.  I’ll have to take it home, refill the empty tire, and scrub off the rust.  What a shame that it was so expensive and now so useless.

Seriously!  This rust is ridiculous.  My poor, poor bike!

I couldn’t even turn the handlebars because of the layer of ice.

This is what Mo hall looks like in front of my window.  My room is on the first level, behind this lovely tree so full of ice.

Missouri knows how to turn ice storms into something beautiful, that’s for sure.

(In all seriousness, there was a bit of freezing rain last night that turned into a hefty amount of sleet.  It’s slick and mushy out there, so be cautious and wear boots!  Also, avoid driving and standing under trees; they’re really quacking with the weight of the ice.  The temperature is dropping steadily, so patches of rain will turn into sleet/snow again, and water on the sidewalks will refreeze tonight and tomorrow morning.  Be wary if the salt trucks have not swung by.)

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Queen of Hearts and Flooding

The past week has been interesting, to say the least.  Usual in it’s irregularities.  Unusual in its mindless natures.  And all-together, a roller coaster.

Sunday can be summed up by this:

J: I’m just going to pull a U-turn.
Missi: No.  Just keep going; I’m sure we can find a place to turn around after this overpass.
J: Missi, don’t scream–
BAM!

And then we were in a car accident.

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Rain

Ah, glorious rain; it’s nice to hear it fall on the pavement beside my open window.  It’s surprising just how much it can lift one’s mood.  For instance, today I can wear my new rain boots, and they’re super cute–which works as a nice mood booster when you get compliments throughout the day on them.  Then, there’s just that relaxing feeling you get when you can walk all alone in the rain.  You get to hear the splashes of your shoes, plops of the rain drops, and claps of angry thunder far off in the distance.  Even before the rain has come, there’s a neat sensation.  Stillness.  Complete stillness, like a strange semi-death.  It’s the calm before the storm, but the last feeling you get is of calm–it’s much more exciting than that.  And then, when the rain finally falls, you can just breathe in the mist and taste the earth in the air.  Nothing beats the feeling.  Nothing.

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Memorisation Does Not Equal Learning

I feel pretty ahead today, even though it’s clear that I am not.  It’s probably more that I’m not rushing to get reading done before classes.  Another fifteen minutes of reading and taking notes from my speech book, and I’m relatively finished with everything that must be read for a class today.  But, tonight I’ll scramble to get my psych reading done before tomorrow morning, and I’ll inevitably accept that I won’t have it finished until Wednesday night.  So, there you go.

I have an art group that I have to go to in about forty minutes that I’m not looking forward to.  Our art teacher is pretty much insane, and we see no point in the project that we’ve been assigned.  It’s not like we’re learning anything from it.  In fact, we haven’t learned anything from the class in general.  Our last test literally concerned learning ten artists, memorising the years they were alive, their style, and their nationality.  Sure, now I know that Albrecht Dürer lived in Germany during the fifteenth century (or something like that), but how does that help me with art?  How about we study his paintings and sketches, learn what makes them unique and a tribute to art.  Let’s not just memorise facts for a couple days so that we can release them from our sponge-like brains later on.  Who ever thought that this style of learning was effective should be shot, or at least made to take a semester of their own class.

I don’t know how this just turned into a rant, especially since my original plan was to talk about how it rained today and that made me happy.  I like rain; it’s refreshing to the soul and mind and body.  It keeps the river of life moving.  Not to mention that it’s been far too long since Kirksville last saw any precipitation that was not just fog lingering over the campus.

So, today’s going to be all right.  And if it isn’t, stuff it.  I’ll make it all right.

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