Monthly Archives: September 2008

Little Reminders

26 Friday Sep 2008

Posted by in Elatedness Abounds, Life As We Know It

≈ 2 Comments

As is by now fairly obvious, this week was not my favorite week.  I moped through the week, intent upon getting through it, but otherwise allowing myself some degree of brooding and general moodiness.  All in all, I can’t really begrudge myself this, because I am not a very moody person.  In fact, I am still waiting for the angst and rebelliousness characteristic of the teenage years to hit.  A little moodiness here and there is healthy.  (Although, I’ve been told that my moodiness more aptly resembles a kitten who is deluded into thinking it’s a tiger.)

Supposing you accept my premise, you can then trust me when I tell you that this week I was very healthy.  Superbly so!  Of course, it did not help matters that I managed to injure myself yet again this past week in three different instances.  I made the mistake of wearing heels Sunday to Mass.  The heels themselves were only half an inch to an inch tall, but I am clumsy, and I cannot wear heels.  They present a hazard for me that, to most, could only be likened to chopping things blindfolded.  While I managed to not trip during the torrential downpour that occurred Sunday evening, I did manage to get quite a number of blisters, one of which ripped several layers of skin off the bottom of one of my big toes.  Walking became problematic after that.  Then, on Monday night, my darling friend took me out to supper at the Cheesecake Factory.  The restaurant is at the Prudential, and we were taking the escalator down to the lower level.  My friend was in front of me on the escalator, but she was turned facing me to talk.  The moment she turned away, I somehow managed to twist my ankle.  On an escalator.  Without actually moving.  So, limping ensued.  It came as a surprise to no one, then, that the very next day, I tripped on some stairs and twisted the same exact ankle.  I should probably mention that this also happened to the same foot I got the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad blister on.  As of this writing, my ankle and my foot are sore, but they are doing significantly better.  I can very nearly walk normally again.

This morning, I woke up to yet another torrential downpour.  This soured my mood nearly immediately, because my beloved rainboots kicked the bucket recently, and I have not yet procured myself a new pair.  Even with an umbrella, I was ill-equipped to handle the monsoon, because umbrellas accomplish absolutely nothing when it is raining sideways.  My pants were quickly getting soaked, as were my socks and even my shirt.  Right as I was inhaling a deep breath in order to grumble, the song on my iPod changed, and “Good Day Sunshine” by The Beatles came on.  This stopped me right in my tracks, and it actually made me laugh instead.  I smiled a little to myself at the irony as I looked at the umbrella in my hand and the rain falling down all around me.  I stared at the reflective puddles on the ground, and I watched after all the people hurriedly passing by.  Then I pulled my umbrella closed, and I turned my face towards the sky.  I took a few moments to feel the rain beat down on my face, to register each individual drop as it hit my skin.  It was surprisingly refreshing, and it made me think back to when I used to wholly enjoy these kind of experiences.

Truthfully, I still do enjoy rain, though now it is for entirely different reasons — it provides perfect nap weather, as well as the perfect atmosphere to curl up in a blanket with a book and a cup of tea.  Today, though, it reminded me of when I used to look forward to the rain simply because I used to love playing in it.  I felt a resurgence of the exhilaration I used to feel at getting my clothing completely soaked until they clung to my body and the anticipation of changing into warm, comfortable clothes before wrapping myself in a blanket.

I realized it had been quite some time since I had truly enjoyed weather like this, and I gave into the dormant excitement.  I let the rain soak me as I slowly walked through it, enjoying every puddle and every cold caress of the water.  As I was making my way back to my room and after The Beatles sang their final note, U2′s “It’s a Beautiful Day,” a song that never ceases to make me smile, came on.  And, for those two songs and the time I had while I walked back to my brownstone, I found myself truly happy for the first time in weeks.

Would Have Been

22 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Life As We Know It, Relationships, Steven, Year Wrap-Up

≈ 5 Comments

Today would have been my 3-year anniversary.  I would have written a love letter to Steven, complete with pictures, and posted it here.  I probably would have toyed with the idea of writing a poem instead since it’s been so very long since I’ve written one, and I miss writing poetry.  You would have been reading that today instead of this.

It’s been just over 3 months since the break-up, and, for the most part, I think I have been handling it well.  The first couple of weeks were a torture in their own right, but I managed to pick myself up and keep going.  I was coping, and I was doing so effectively enough that most people have assumed that I am quite fine.  I think that, considering what I have gone through, I am doing extraordinarily well.  It is not without great effort, of course, and is in large part due to books.  Books have, yet again, saved my life in a very noticeable way.  As much as I criticize the writing of the series that I have been rereading, I may very well owe it my sanity.

At least, I was doing quite well until the past two weeks.  Subconsciously I registered the upcoming date, and my mood — my stable, predictable mood — began to resemble one far more emotional, irrational and erratic.  At that point, I finally understood my mood swings, and I really began to fear today more with each passing day.  It is humorous — of all the things that have happened lately that could unravel me and shake my core, this day did, just by existing.

I suppose it is not so unusual that this day should manage to unhinge me somewhat.  For the past few years, this date used to cause me an inordinate amount of joy, and now the reason for that joy is gone.  It is yet another reminder of what an unforgiving year this has been for me: I lost LilyCat, I lost Grandma and then I lost Steven.  They were my greatest sources of comfort and my greatest sources of unconditional love.  Their absence in my life has had a palpable impact.  I feel like part of myself has been torn away, yet, paradoxically, I somehow feel complete in myself.  Discussing the break-up is difficult for me for multitudinous reasons, but the most difficult being that everyone repeatedly reminds me that I will find someone else.  I understand the intentions behind the words, and I am thankful for the kindness and support, but they do not quite address the problem.  None of this was ever about losing a boyfriend or a prospective life mate.  None of this was ever about being alone.  Honestly, as I stated previously, I actually feel wholly complete in who I am.  I do not mind being alone.  I do not simply want to be with someone.  Should it happen someday with the right person, I will welcome it, but that is not the issue which caused me so much grief.  All of this was only ever about one person — Steven — and the feelings I felt for him and he for me.  It was as simple as that.

I suppose I could liken it to death.  Once someone passes away, that individual is gone.  You cannot replace him or her.  In the case of a pet, you can always get another one down the road when the time is right.  Perhaps the new pet will far exceed your expectations and come to be the best pet you’ve ever had.  The position was replaced, clearly with something even better, but that does not detract from the wistfulness you have for the previous one — for the love you had, the experiences you shared, the mutual evolution you both experienced during your time together.  That first one will remain an irrevocable part of you and who you are.  As upsetting as this day is for me, I do not regret much.  How could I?

I slept little last night.  I think I slept for maybe one and one-half hours, possible two.  Most of my day has been spent in bed, regardless, finally allowing myself to reflect on things I have been pushing out for the past few weeks.  I listened to music that holds a particular emotional significance for me, and I cried in waves here and there.  I imagine that I am not yet free from the traitor tears which continue to take me by surprise, but I at least finally had the presence of mind to grab a Kleenex box to keep near me.  My darling friend Jessica is taking over the second half of the day, refusing to let me be alone, and my other dear friend Whitney set a phone date with me for this evening.  I offered multiple times to stay in my dorm today in isolation from the world, and I would have if they did not fight me into acquiescence.  I can only imagine how difficult it must be for both of them to deal with me when I am like this, and yet they do so willingly and lovingly.  They’re being Jesus to me today, and I hope they both know how incredibly grateful I am.  Even in all of this, I can see how blessed I am.

I always hesitate to post anything about Steven on here, because I always fear that I am depicting him in a bad light.  I earnestly try not to do so, because I do not even think that he reads here anymore.  He continues to aid me in my technical difficulties on here and host the website for me, but beyond that, I do not know that he reads the content.  I do not blame him.  Most of the readers here are here because of me.  If I were him, I think that I would probably be afraid to read that I am writing, and especially what people are saying in response to that.  I was asked several times if I planned on talking to Steven today.  The answer is no; to be completely honest, I do not know if Steven is even aware what day it is, and if he does, I imagine it probably is not exactly a wonderful day for him either.  I have no desire to draw his attention to the fact and make matters worse for him.  The most that I can hope is that only I noticed the calendar date.  I think that I would make things worse for him if I were to approach him, and he certainly does not need my emotional distress to make him feel worse or guilty.  So, given all of that, what I am about to do may be entirely pointless or may confuse those of you who are reading this.  However,  it seemed appropriate, at least to me, given the day.

Dearest Steven,

I have seen you at your best, and I have seen you at your worst.  I have often been at the receiving end when you are at your worst.  I bear you no enmity or bitterness because of any of it.  I have forgiven you for everything you have done to me, intentionally and unintentionally.  I know that you never meant to hurt me.  It so often just happened that way.  I understand that.  I only hope that you will be able to forgive yourself.  I know that you do not, but I sincerely hope that one day you will be able to.  Because, despite the things you have done, you have also done a great many wonderful things.  Never forget that, and know that I do not regret any of it.
While you may not be completely sold on the point, you are a good person — you have always been a good person.  You deserve a life full of joy, and I pray every day that you might have one.

Be happy; that is all I have ever wanted for you.

All my best,
Lindsay

So, I Guess I Can Cross “Ballerina” off the Short List

15 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Life As We Know It

≈ 6 Comments

Of all the adjectives that someone could attribute to me, you will not once find “graceful” used.  At least, you will not find that adjective on any list of anyone who knows me well.  Intelligent, yes; kind, yes; gracious, yes.  Graceful, no.  You’d be much more likely to find “clumsy,” or, if the individual is a particularly generous one, “unlucky.”  I suppose, in their own way, both adjectives are true.  It’s true enough that I seem to possess two left feet and an uncanny ability to wind up face first prostrated on perfectly flat, smooth surfaces.  However, I also seem to be unbelievably accident-prone even without my special ability to go from vertical to horizontal in one second flat.

Friday afternoon, I was heading back to my room after a class.  I was thinking about going to the gym and then getting some food.  I was crossing the major road of campus (for our campus is much like that of Vegas — it is all essentially on a long strip of road).  Actually, I was just finishing one side of the street, walking through the middle where the T tracks are when I tripped.  At least, this is the assumption.  I don’t know what happened, and I have no recollection.  All I remember was walking, and then the next thing I remember is being down on the ground in a lot of pain.  Of course, all of this wasn’t quite enough on its own, so to make things more interesting, I landed, unbeknownst to me, directly on the subway tracks.  This, of course, happened right as a T was barrelling directly toward me honking its horn.  At the time, I wasn’t particularly aware of what was going on.  Fortunately, there were two men nearby who did, and they quickly picked me up and pulled me to the side.  I tried to get up, but they told me to stay still for a moment while we attempted to ascertain what exactly I hurt.

I was hyper aware of a sharp pain in my left elbow, right knee and my left wrist.  My body was battling with several pains at once, but those appeared to be the most dominant.  My head also hurt, and my palms and right wrist weren’t feeling exactly up to par.  I was still rather shocked by what happened, not that I know what happened, but you catch my drift.  I knew I needed medical attention, but I also knew that I was in Boston, so chances are that medical attention was going to take quite some time.  So, before heading over to the student health facility, I grabbed lunch.  One of the guys offered to carry me, but I was embarrassed enough without publicly drawing attention to my clumsiness, so I used lunch as an excuse and politely declined.  (However, I must admit that I now feel rude.  I was too shocked and hurt to even remember to thank the two men for saving me from further bodily harm.  Not that my mishap excuses my lack of manners.)

The doctors looked me over and poorly cleaned out the bloody wounds on both my knee and elbow.  They’re both still in pretty poor shape, but they’re immensely improved upon from Friday.  The skinless section of my elbow hasn’t even begun to scab over yet.  My knee, thankfully, has, but it is still extremely bruised (nearly black, but not not as big or disgusting as it was on Friday) and still somewhat swollen despite the multiple icings per day.  The knee continues to give me difficulty in the walking department, but it’s getting gradually better day by day.  My right palm has cleared up nicely, and my right wrist is only marginally sore.  My left palm is starting to heal, but my left hand still has some bruising; my left wrist is wrapped up.  The pain in my wrist is rather excruciating, and they think I may have a hairline fracture.  I went in for x-rays today, but I don’t know the results.  When I was at student health on Friday, they determined that I had a concussion from the fall.  I had a tiny little bump on my head and a minor headache.  Fortunately for me, the pain elsewhere distracted me from a potentially larger headache.  In determining whether or not I had a concussion, they asked me several questions.  I couldn’t tell them what day it was, I couldn’t tell them what had happened (they think I passed out for a moment), I couldn’t tell them who the governor of Massachusetts is (that’s a question I wouldn’t have been able to answer sans concussion, so I deem that one unfair) or give them answers to a multitude of other questions.

I ended up spending Friday evening with my darling friend Jessica.  When I told her what happened, she volunteered to fix me supper, so I gladly headed to her apartment.  She took care of me Friday night and had me stay with her.  She was concerned about my concussion, so she wanted me to sleep overnight.  I can honestly admit that she took far better care of me than the doctors did or than I would have been capable of on my own.  She cleaned out my wounds (after, of course, she expressed her horror at how bad they were and how terribly the doctors cleaned them), she fixed me breakfast Saturday, and she even woke me up several times to make sure that I could wake up and hadn’t slipped into a coma whilst in her bed.  Apparently I slept like a statue Friday night and didn’t move much at all.  This understandably caused her anxiety.  I never stay still in my sleep.  I move all over throughout the night.  I toss and turn, I wake up multiple times, and my bedding often ends up on the floor.  I’m assuming my sound sleep was due to the concussion.  Jessica is a saint for taking care of me.  You could not ask for a better friend in those kind of situations.

I’ve had to shower with a bag over my left arm, and that makes showering difficult and exhausting.  Between that and attempting to dress myself, I’m pretty much always ready to go back to sleep before I’ve even really started my day.  It doesn’t help that every time I change my clothes or wake up I discover a new bruise or a new pain.  I somehow have pulled several muscles in my chest and hurt my lower back.

It’s disconcerting to think that all of this came from my tripping, most likely, over my own two left feet.  Every time someone asks me what happened and I tell them, they either laugh or call me a liar.  A more probable story for my injuries would have been that I got hit by a car.  That story also seems to take less of a hit on my dignity.  As things stand, I’m racking up all sorts of retorts, from being told that I should get a bodyguard to protect me from myself to being told that I should get a seeing eye dog (I do not like dogs) to being told that I should just get a protective layer of Nerf to wear everywhere.

I’d like to go one year without severely injuring myself.  Too bad it’s only September.  The school year practically just started.  Sigh.

On the bright side, thank goodness I have fantastic medical insurance.

Tossed Salad

08 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Academia, Bostonia, Die Bücher, Life As We Know It

≈ 4 Comments

I’ve been back in Boston for nearly two weeks.  It’s nice to be back.  I’ve had a lot going on and even less to say about it, but I just thought I’d post an update on my life.

The trip here started off somewhat tumultuously with a cartop carrier falling off on the interstate.  A semi hit it and my bedding exploded, flying all over the place.  It all turned out ok in the end, though.  I only lost one thing, and it’s nothing too terribly regrettable.  The important thing is that no one was injured in the process.

I’ve spent the past week becoming obsessed with a series of books that I am embarrassed to name.  They are not terribly well written, and the typos throughout the books are maddening.  It was difficult to read the book when I wanted to take a red marker and just start crossing out entire paragraphs and pages that are wholly unnecessary and even distracting.  HOWEVER, I was not the editor, so those paragraphs and pages were allowed in the final product.  Still, I fell in love with the books (and the male lead).  I love the storylines.  I am not naming the series, but I imagine there are a few people who will read this paragraph and automatically know of the series I am speaking.  To those people: JUDGE ME HARSHLY.  I am mostly chalking this all up to me being more of a girl than I realized.  It’s not good literature, but I suppose everyone is allowed to have their indulgences.

I didn’t iron out my class schedule until Wednesday of last week.  My class schedule is rather forgiving.  One of my classes is a directed study, so that just requires me to meet with my advisor to discuss my thesis, but the frequency or infrequency of those meetings is entirely up to me.  (My program is run in an Oxford manner since the co-directors and assistant director are of Oxford backgrounds.  I like this.)  I took the two MA fall classes last year, so I had to come up with two classes to replace them this year.  I’m being allowed to take the two Ph.D. courses instead.  Neither one meets often during the semester (one meets ten times over the course of the semester, and the other one meets approximately eight times), so that frees me up to spend time in the archives and working on my thesis.   My elective is a linguistic anthropology class.  This class actually meets with an undergraduate class, though the graduate students meet an hour a week with the professor to have our own discussions and to work on our separate work and readings.  The linguistic anthropology class meets three times a week.  This is obviously significantly more often than any of my other classes.  It’s the only class I’ve had so far, and it also involves an extensive amount of reading.  I am finding myself wishing I were a fast reader.  Unfortunately, I very much am not.

Tomorrow is my first day in the archives!  I don’t have class, but I set things up so that I won’t be able to stay the whole day; I have errands to run and loan deferrments to get approved.  If I didn’t have other things to do, I know I’d end up staying until they kicked me out, and it’d be a bad idea anyway.  Because I am sick.  Boo.

I am starting (I think) to recover from a bout of the stomach flu that started yesterday morning at six in the morning.  I am a wimp when it comes to throwing up or being nauseated.  I can handle nearly anything, but stomach pain?  Noope.  It also prevented me from attending Mass yesterday, and that just put me in a sour mood.  Fortunately, I have a lovely friend who was kind enough to stop by the store and pick me up some Pepto Bismol, Fiji water & Gatorade yesterday.  I thanked her approximately one hundred times.  She kept waving it off as nothing, but I don’t think she realizes how much her little errand helped me out.  It helped yesterday be tolerable.  I also kept trying to throw all sorts of money at her to pay her back, but she kept refusing.  Finally, she gave in and agreed to take half of what I was offering.  I like when people are willing to compromise.

This post is too cursory for my liking, but I still have an elevated temperature and the nausea is overly distracting.  I guess something is still better than nothing, though.

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