Alabama Takes NY Metro, 2-0

That's right folks, NJ/NY is no match for two girls from Alabama. Actually, I'm no match for two girls from Alabama. In case you're wondering what I'm talking about, my friend Amber who currently lives in the Seattle area flew into town last Wednesday. Her plane got in after midnight and we stayed up until about 4am catching up on things and fell asleep trading stories and bits of gossip. Amber is such a trooper, because she was running a fever on her flight here, but somehow NJ made her feel better and she showed no signs of slowing down when she was here. On Thursday night, we drove to Poughkeepsie, NY, to Vassar to see the divine Mr. Kevin Devine play. There are no signs for the college, so we had to stop and ask for directions 3 times before finally making it to campus where we had to ask for directions 3 more times. But anyway, we made it just in time for Amber to say hello to Kevin ('cause my friends know rock stars) and catch his set. We were both glad to be late because we didn't have to watch anyone else.

People, he's pretty amazing. Kevin Devine that is. It may have been because I was sleep deprived, but he made me tear up a few times. He was doing an acoustic thing that night and I was terribly impressed. Every physical and musical move he made thoughout the performance enhanced the meaning of what he was trying to do. Seriously, flawless. And he openly bashes Bush. And he mentions Auburn, Alabama, in a song. And he's way cute (find him on myspace). Perfection.

Additionally, he was staying in Staten Island that night and let us follow him back to the NJ Turnpike (did I mention we got lost a bunch on the way there?). It was raining too and I'm not sure we would have made it back without our personal guide. He's such a nice guy and he has my lifelong dedication.

Friday night Amber and I stayed around Madison and just met some people at Herbie's for drinks. It was fun and we proved that 2 girls from Alabama are definately better than one. And we had to rest up for Saturday when we attended Hannah's (one of the girls I babysit) first communion. Amber went with me for moral support because neither of us had ever been to a Catholic church before, but things were totally cool with the many non-Catholics there. Afterward, we went to brunch at Hannah's house, and it was totally charming as usual. Amber was a little hesitant until she saw the champagne and realized it was "that" kind of party. We left there kind of early to rest up for the night's salsa extravaganza.

We rounded up Sarah and my friend Scott (who's also known as "5th Avenue" because of his swanky address) and headed to the Copacabana after having drinks at the Rainbow Room. Both were fairly fabulous, and I'm so glad Amber wanted to show off her salsa lessons at a club. Sarah and I resolved that we have to take lessons so we can have more fun next time. Sarah danced the most out of all of us with two long-term dance partners for the evening. Me, oh I just attract the crazies. Some guy named Sidney grabbed my had as I was walking by and told me I was "so beautiful." He wanted to dance later--I agreed but never followed through--and said I could put drinks on his open tab if I wanted--didn't follow through with that either. Besides Sidney, there was this guy, Ali, who took me for a very fun dance and then came back to the table to "read my soul" as we've been calling it. First he said that he needed to tell me something, then sat down, then a few minutes later finally told me that I needed more money before I had the authority to take whatever I wanted from life. Weird. The crazies just dig me...I wonder if it's the hair or something.

We finally dragged ourselves out of the club at about 4am and headed back to the Path station to Hoboken where we were parked and then finally home. At about 5:30. It was fun and Amber was a pro at salsa dancing, but we kind of suffered for it the next day. That didn't keep up from hitting Sephora though and playing with makeup for an hour. It was so fantastic having Amber here. We got along in high school, but never really hung out that much, but interestingly, we get along great. We decided that it was just tough to beat knowing someone since nursery school. I had so much fun trading stories, trading horror stories, and giggling. It was good to realize that I don't just have friends, I have good friends.

"Major Life Change" as Opposed to My Usual "Minor Life Crisis"

So I'm terrible for not writing for so long. I know, I know. That's assuming that there are people reading though. Anyways, it's been a rough, busy few months for me as I'm scrambling again to get my thesis done. And things are not going well. I don't feel comfortable talking about it here, but let's just say that things aren't on schedule, and it's making me really stressed out.

As a result of the thesis craziness and of my extreme homesickness since I visited Alabama for Spring Break, I've decided that it's time for me to return to Alabama. That's right folks, I'm moving home. I'm finished with coursework here and have the freedom to move around a bit, so I'm relocating. I'm living at home with my parents for the summer and looking for a job somewhere (hopefully) in a Southern city. It was a tough decision, but I'm very happy with my choice. It seems like a good time to be home with my sister getting married in June, my father having shoulder surgery, and my mom's birthday this summer. These are all great excuses which I will repeat over and over again, but mostly I'm just ready to be near my family again and for my life to be a little easier.

Hopefully, I will get my thesis ready, pass my defense, and graduate in May. This would be good so I could get a job and feel like I was making educational progress, but I'm headed back to Bama regardless. As for the PhD program, I'm taking a year off to give myself some time and distance so I can make a better judgment on whether I want to continue or not. I'm not sure I'm ready to invest several more years and a lot more money into a PhD program yet, but I am maintaining matriculation at Drew, so if I do decide to stay, there will be little complication. Thanks to everyone who's been supportive to me since I've been here, and thanks for all the fun visits...it was a difficult decision, but I kind of feel done with New Jersey. At least for now. But you all know me; that may change too.

Teaser

Hello all. I realize it's been over a month since my last post--I've been a bad, bad girl--but it will be at least another week before school turns me loose long enough to write anything, go to the grocery store, or sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Just felt guilty and had to put up this little note. I have lots of stuff to write about my trip home to Alabama and hopefully some good new about school, so tune in again soon for more clevery-charmingness courtesy of me.

Getting By

Umm, how did it get to be February 19th? That went fast. I suppose now that I'm twenty-five I should constantly comment on how time is flying away with my youth. Generally, I have no idea how old I am. When people ask, I still reply "21," but I can rent cars now without extra fees and my car insurance supposedly went down. What-evv.

Yeah, so I'm pretty much fumbling through school right now. Teaching is going just fine, but I awoke Sunday morning to find that my computer had died for the second time in about 2 years. Oh, you can congratulate me if you'd like 'cause it seems like quite the accomplishment. And I was just trying to make it through my latest thesis revision before I ordered a shiny new Mac. (I cannot really complain about buying shiny newness though. Except for the fact that my credit card company did not initially authorize the purchase and I had to straighten that out too.) The thesis is safe, but most of my other documents are not including a report that I need for this Wednesday. We'll see how that works out.

My weekend was long and short at the same time. Saturday, I went into the city to Mishka's birthday party. I expected it to be a lot of fun and was looking forward to seeing a bunch of bands and stuff then Sarah said she was coming to meet me which made things even better. But she took "at least two wrong trains, maybe three" (her words) and didn't make it to the show until almost midnight and only caught about 20 minutes of the last band. So I was alone and worried the whole night. Kinda sucked. And I was not publically groped by the birthday boy.

Sunday, my feet were so sore from walking in the cold that I spent most of the day on the couch. Now it's back to school for the week. Waaahwaah. Can you tell I'm looking forward to going home for a while next month?

Lot Lizard

It may seem strange to name the story of my birthday dinner after a slang term for truck stop whores, but you'll get it, I promise. And it's funny.

My friends and family were absolutely fantastic about my birthday this year. My whole family called and my dad, my sister and Bud all called to sing my happy birthday. Lauren even composed a rap chorus that went "It's my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday...It's my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday!" and so on. So many friends emailed and messaged and I even got a call from my high school luv Ben S. (who's just the same in all the right ways). My friend W gave me the most beautiful multi-strand pearl necklace that was featured prominently in my Friday night ensemble. Brandon and Buist cooked waffles and Eggs Benedict for me on my birthday-proper, and we scheduled a dinner and nightclub extravaganza for Friday night.

Brandon, Buist, Brandon's brother Walter (Happy Birthday to You too!), Dennis, Laura, Sean, Sarah and I met up in Manhattan at the Cuba Cafe for dinner. We were all a little late getting there because of the rain, but the staff at the restaurant was gracious and didn't make a fuss. Also, hello to the Gomez's I met at the bar while I was waiting. You bought me a delicious mojito and I appreciate it. We had a great dinner and a yummy dominio cake for birthday dessert. Afterward, McSean joined us and we made our way downtown to The Duplex and two-story club with a piano bar, pub quiz bar, and live cabaret (think karaoke but mostly showtunes with a live piano player). We grabbed seats down front and quickly made ourselves known as the funny, loud, Southern crowd. The Yankees with us were guilty by association. Buist wanted the two of us to sing Dolly Parton's "Joleen" but I didn't really know all the words and thankfully, they never got to our names on the list. However, Buist somehow shouted out that we had some good stories to tell, so the MC asked what kind of stories. When we said we had one about shooting a hooker, he quickly announced that I would be onstage after the next song to tell us a story about hookers.

Oh, the stage. Fits like a glove. Or like comfy pajamas. Or whatever desireable metaphor/simile/analogy you'd like here. If I have a microphone, you might as well just get used to listening to me 'cause I'm gonna keep it until someone wrestles it away. I only wish I was talented enough to be onstage for a living. But you should probably be thankful that I'm not. Ok, back to the hooker.

For a while I was too embarassed to tell this story, but it's so bizarre and violent and country and funny that it had to come out sometime. To compound the strange circumstances of the story, it involves my Ex-Uncle Michael, former husband of my Aunt Shelia, who told this story to his high school-age children. See, he drives a truck for an egg company and travels mainly in the southeast. He's a good looking guy--tall, dark hair--and evidentally this was nearly his demise one evening at a truck stop. There he was. Minding his own business in his sleeper when a lot lizard started making her rounds. These ladies-of-the-night slither from truck to truck knocking on doors looking for prospective johns. I believe it's procedure to either open your door to the lot lizard or shout out a quick but standard refusal at which time the woman moves on. My ex-uncle did the latter but the woman had found what she was looking for and refused to leave. Eventually, she tried to break in the truck and was getting violent. She may have even had a knife--I don't really remember the details, I should ask my cousins--but Michael was disturbed enough to start up his truck and try to drive away. Still, the woman would not leave him alone, so he's driving away and she's still trying to break in while hanging on the side of the cab. Seeing that she would never stop, Michael reached for his pistol, hung it out the window, and shot her in the foot.

Problem solved. She dropped off the side of the truck and limped toward a payphone. Thankfully, Michael drove to safety. Seems that Alabama truck stop whores are a pretty good match for handguns. Let's just hope she's applying her persistence to less dangerous careers now.

As we left the club, we got thanked from the stage for teaching the crowd about lot lizards. Several people thanked me for the story and wished me happy birthday on the way out. I showed my appreciation with my Queen of England wave and was not even mad about the $115 parking ticket on my car. See what you missed. Southerners make everything fun. Even shootin's.

Slow Down and Smell the Bacon or "I'm With the Band, Man"

So I probably should have put this post before the last one, but this is my little description of the unique experience of arriving back in Alabama from New Jersey for the holidays. It happens everytime. From the moment the plane wheels leave the Newark Airport, the relaxing starts. Doesn't really matter where I'm going--simply leaving NJ seems to work--but this effect is strongest when I'm on a plane back to Alabama.

It's been tough this past year since I've only seen my family for two weeks during the summer and at Christmas, so I was really looking forward to being at home. Usually, this sort of homesickness manifests itself as vague depression where I find myself cuddled up to the kitchen cabinets and crying on the floor for no apparent reason, but fortunately, I was too busy with work and school to get sad this time. (I know. Even I think it's a pathetic image.) After group grading portfolios all day on Friday, I boarded a plane for Bama on Saturday morning. I transferred in my favorite US airport, Charlotte, and then went on to Birmingham.

The transition is gradual. The Charlotte airport provides me with the Southernness that I've missed so much while still offering me wine bars and The Body Shop. Occasionally, I'm so happy to be back anywhere Southern that I start talking to random people, giving them way too many details about my life (I inherited this from my mother). "Hey, it is so nice to be back in the South. I miss the accents! I've been at school in New Jersey...I know, I'm not sure how I ended up there either...but I'm finally going home to Alabama. My mama'll be proud to see me." And so on. It's funny to see people's eyes change from politely listening to not caring anymore to being afraid that you're crazy and will never stop talking to them.

Somehow, I was able to restrain myself this time and not bother people too much. And then I went to Birmingham. Oh, Birmingham. Thanks. You called me ma'am so many times you'da thought I was an old lady. You opened doors for me and helped me with luggage. You're a real sweetie.

And another thing was different from Newark and Charlotte: the smell. As I walked toward the terminal from the plane, I felt the welcome heat and humidity (no matter that it was mid-December, it's still in the upper 70's!) and curiously, the smell of bacon. There was not even a restaurant nearby, but the salty, smoky goodness had evidentially permeated everything in the state. Even the very edges of airport terminals. Then there was the noticeable change of pace. Things move slower in Alabama. I like being able to walk slower with out being pushed out of the way, cussed at, or insulted because I didn't have my "city pace" on. Some things about my home state that are directly related to this slower way of life are annoying or backward, but for a few hours in a muggy airport, I appreciated it.

Dale picked me up from the airport because I was going to see Smuteye play their FIRST SHOW that night. I'm sorry, did I say going I meant being their biggest fan/groupie/roadie. They were really good and very fun, and hopefully, one of the band members will post the pictures I took during the show while holding my vodka in the other hand. Oh, yeah baby, I'm with the band. Which I actually got to say to the door manager. My father would be so proud.

Crazy Lorena and The Ballad of Bud Lamar

Those of you that know me also probably know my sister. And if you know her or have heard me talk about her, you should understand why Dominic has always referred to her as Crazy Lorena. My sister, whose actual name is Lauren, is very unique and very funny. She's a free spirit who has a history of making questionable choices, so when I tell you this, perhaps you'll be struck with the same fear I experienced.

After talking to my sister on the phone one afternoon, I spoke to my mom later that night. When mom asked me if my sister had anything to tell me, the old sinking feeling started again. Turns out that my sister had gotten engaged that very day and didn't even tell me about it during our phone call.

So naturally, I got hysterical. Crying and voicing my fears to my mother. For these reasons:

• His name is Bud Lamar
• He is 24 and has 2 children

Eventually, I calmed down and gave her poor ears a break. Later that night, I got a tearful VOICEMAIL from Lauren explaining that she didn't want to tell me earlier because I sounded aggravated during our phone conversation. Oh, and that she was engaged.

I called her the next day. Not so I could tell her congratulations, but because I wanted to hear her apology for telling me she was engaged in a message. I was furious and indignant and felt totally left out. Like I was losing my sister to this man.

However, my visit home over Christmas changed all of this. Lauren and Bud picked me up in Montgomery, and we had a really nice drive home. I actually liked Bud right from the start and this only continued for the rest of the holiday. He really cares about my sister and loves my family, so how can I complain? He's cute and funny (and a very good dad to his two beautiful children) and he can build stuff. I even found myself cooking dinner with the hopes that Lauren and Bud would come over. And he's an organizer (but not crazy OCD) which makes me trust him (because he's like me, and I like people who are like me). So, I guess I'm saying, next time you have a drink, have one for Lauren and Bud Lamar. Looks like they'll be pretty happy. And the wedding's June 16th.

On Almost Becoming a Parent

Don't worry people, I'm neither preggers nor suspected preggers though my roommate Brandon believes I am a fertility goddess. (It's the boobs.) A few months ago, said roommate and I almost adopted two beautiful smooshed-faced kitties, aka Persians. Both were gray adult cats--one traditional "blue" and the other a distinguished silver--that needed to move from their Brooklyn home because their humans couldn't spend enough time with them anymore.

Did I mention that they were beautiful? And took really cute pictures in boxes!

After finding them on craigslist, I emailed their humans, and they said I sounded like the ideal pet owner for the brother kitties that could never (we insist) be separated. Brandon and I had already discussed litter box placement and which kitty would sleep where when our downstairs landlady said she was "deathly allergic" to cats. It was a depressing evening when Brandon came back upstairs, after taking her homemade Christmas candy no less, to tell me that we could not become kitty parents. As I emailed the Brooklyn couple of the bad news, I felt my long-awaited smooshed-faced kitty dream slip through my fingers. A few days later when I checked online for their pictures, they were nowhere to be found. So, Two Gray Smooshed-Faced Brother Kitties: I know we could have been happy together, but I wish you the best (I love you...sniffle).

Procrastination Specialist

It was scary how quickly and well I typed the first word of the title...oh, we're old friends. In my best of intentions I, once again, promised myself that I wouldn't wait until the last minute to get all my papers done, but old habits took over. I'm sitting on my bed right now trying to eek out the last few pages of a paper due on Tuesday. Tuesday, you say! You're way early! Oh, if you only knew. I also have to complete two response papers for a different class by tomorrow in addition to teaching a class and babysitting for 4 hours in the middle of the day (last day for that, thank goodness).

My wonderful teacher gave me a week extension for a paper due on Wednesday, so my life is slightly saner than it was this time last week. Actually, that's not true, but I'm delirious from coffee and saying that makes me feel better. Oh, and I also have to grade some papers for tomorrow morning's class. No sleep for me. So I'd like to officially nominate myself as this month's #1 Procrastination Specialist; if you got competition, let me know.

A Real Live Poet

Take heart, Kate! There are more real live poets and they're getting a lot of attention right now. Check out the link "This Is All Your Fault" to see Christine Hamm, my fellow graduate student, who's just published another volume of poems. I'm going to her reading on November 17th, so I'll let you know how that goes. You can read a sample of her work at her website, and the poems are pretty cool.

And speaking of Kate, what's up with the lack of full-body costume shots? We can't get the full effect if we only see your head. Not that there's anything wrong with your head. There's not, and your hair looks pretty.

Biscuits and The Answer

Buttermilk Biscuits (courtesy of How to Cook Everything cookbook)
2 cups White Lily or cake flour
1 scant teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
5 tablespoons cold butter
7/8 cups buttermilk

-Preheat oven to 450
-Mix flour, salt, baking powder, and baking salt
-Cut in cold butter or blend in food processor
-Stir in buttermilk until just mixed
-Turn dough onto a floured surface and press flat
-Use biscuit cutter or glass to make 10-14 biscuits
-Bake for 7-9 minutes

Oh, and I think Pimm's tastes like the Turkish Delight candy that Kate made. Must be the orange and cloves.

Clue

Does anyone think Pimm's tastes like the candy Kate made for our Chronicles of Narnia celebration?

Biscuits and A Challenge

Since I was alone all this weekend, I learned even more about myself that most of you probably already know. If left to my own devices, I will stay in my pajamas all day and only put on clothes because I'm cold or to go out for two slices of pizza. I will also watch crazy amounts of CSI, L&O, and the History Channel. Here's the new part: I will also bake experimentally.

Baking serves to really take my mind off things; because I don't do it too often, I have to really concentrate on it. First, I made some Chocolate Midnight cookies out of the most recent Bon Appetit magazine. They're good but super dark chocolatey. Tolerable if rolled in powdered sugar.

Friday I also made this delicious Spinach and Sausage soup with other veggies and tomatoes. I forget where I got that recipe, but it's yummy and would also be good with potatoes. Saturday I managed not to cook anything but did get some Nutter Butter cookies (not the delectable wafers) for Sarah's late night visit on Saturday evening. She was nice enough to come over after I called to be pitiful in my lonliness.

This morning, however, was my crowning glory. I made biscuits! Not the drop kind that my daddy calls "cathead" biscuits, but the real I'm-gonna-roll-these-out-n-cut-'em-buttermilk biscuits. They turned out so well and I'm trying not to eat them all. I also managed to do some reading, tutoring, and grading papers in the meantime, so I suppose I've had a fairly productive weekend though I still haven't managed to put away the clean laundry that's in my room. At least my roommate will have plenty of baked goods to come home to when he returns from South Carolina tonight.

Wednesday, I'm flying out to Tulsa for a conference but will only be there till Friday. I fully expect to be shot down at my seminar because I'm presenting a paper in a group of 6 which means that there will be plenty of time to rip my paper apart. Hopefully, these much more established members of academia will take pity and not be too harsh. Then it's back here for Brandon and Laura's birthday party on Saturday. It's a tapas party and we're having it at our apartment. What's going on for Halloween everybody?

A Challenge For Kate, Dominic, and Dale: Have some Pimm's No.1 and tell me what it tastes like. There will be a clue posted later.

I Think They'll Keep Me

So my sigh of relief may be one of exhaustion or surrender, but as in other matters of my life, I'm pretending that things will be ok. After a meeting with the university president and provost last night, I feel more encouraged that our PhD programs will not be cut. Administrators have gone on record saying that reasons for suspending admissions are mostly financial, and that they plan to follow the recommendations of the faculty and outside review committee. I think and hope that means that if faculty and students can work up a new and improved program then we'll be able to keep our PhD programs in English and History.

Interesting Fact: Drew University is the only school of its size in America to grant PhD's in the liberal arts. While this is all nice and prestigious and speaks to the uniqueness off our programs, it also confuses outsiders as to why we have such programs and how we're able to financially support them. Our programs exist because of some very nice people who fund the grad school and because of the dedicated faculty and enthusiastic students here. It's a great program and I'm glad things are looking up. And I'm glad I don't have to worry about it anymore for right now.

Other than that, I'm hanging on by my pinky toes as far as getting my own schoolwork done while grading composition papers, babysitting, and tutoring at least two nights a week. Things will thankfully slow down after mid-October, so my sanity is really looking forward to that.

Upcoming events: I'm conferencing in Tulsa at the Modernist Studies Association conference and presenting a paper on The Implications of Posthumous Publication that's based of my thesis. That's on October 19th, and I'll return just in time to have Laura and Brandon's birthday party then attend the Vieira's halloween party the next weekend.

Parties are much better than work. Bring on the party.

Speaking of party, I'm all alone on this chilly Friday night watching tv and surfing the internet to avoid reading student papers. I did watch Jarhead today (nice movie, not overtly provocative, but better than the amount of buzz it got) and the last two episodes of Carnivale, so I got some closure on my netflix list. Oh, but I did go to the pub earlier and (in the words of Robert Earl Keen) had such a good time I had to take a nap. No one wanted to go out after that though. Wah, wah, waaaah. Here I sit waiting for my roommate and Buist to get back and entertain me with some southernisms. Where's my man to have dinner with?

Almost Famous

Last Wednesday, while in line to buy water before heading to my Victorian Women class, Sy from Kaplan called to let me know that NBC might be coming to film my SAT class on Sunday (that's this past Sunday). While I was incredibly excited that the world would finally get to see how wonderful I was, I was also unexpectedly nervous. My mind abuzz, I rehearsed what I would say to Meredith Vieira or some other newsy-type and imagined how smart they--and America-- would think I was. Oh, and what an opportunity to show people that I care about students and give myself a little credibility.

When I went to tutor that night, Sy told me that I might be interviewed. At that time I assumed that it would not actually happen and it didn't. NBC did come to the center on Sunday and film, but just the class next to mine. And the students in that class. And the people in the front office. Ok! Everybody except me! So I'm exaggerating and was actually glad that they didn't film me because I had a cold and didn't feel well, but I can still complain. Or fake complain. Or do whatever I do to create comraderie and communicate with people.

If you would like to see where I work and the people I work with, tune in to the NBC nightly news on Wednesday, September 20th. Zaheer, aka Z, will be part of the segment as a fellow SAT teacher; we were dressed alike that day in our gray Kaplan polos and black pants, so I suppose you can add "and see what Brooke was wearing that day" to the list of what you're seeing except for the fact that the outfit's on a tall and good-looking Indian-American man. But whatever.

Aside from that, my schedule's been totally crazy. There are grad school issues that I don't feel comfortable talking about on the internet (so email if you're curious) and a major schedule restructuring in the direction of me having more time for school. One of my ESL students has returned to Korea, I'm only babysitting one day a week instead of two, and it looks like I won't be teaching SAT classes on the weekends anymore. Thankfully, I don't have to work everyday until the end of October now! But I'm still kinds bummed that no one's asking me for autographs.

My Little Slice of Southern

Have any of you seen a show on MTV called "Two-a-days"? It's a show about Hoover High School Football team in Hoover, AL. Shock and Awe! MTV's in Alabama (poor MTV). Anyway, I thought it was funny, and since I've had some down time over the past few days, I've caught some of it. It's what you'd expect, mostly boring high school relationship drama intersperced with fooball coaches saying repetitive and appaling things. Oh, and some impressive smacking noises that happen when they show scenes from practice. As expected now that MTV's a reality network, there are plenty of people who are way too hot for their age, but the funniest thing that happened was a seemingly mundane activity--going to a restaurant.

Having recently seen The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (as I prefer to call it, instead of the trivialized title: Talledega Nights), I fully understood the complexity, truth and humor that surrounded these Hoover High youngsters during their trip to the local Applebee's. Surely, it is one of the only close, cheap restaurants that could tolerate groups of high school students with cam corders in addition to the MTV camera crews, but that doesn't make it any less funny. Chain restaurants are an epidemic in the South, and it's really time to deal with it.

In addition to that (Confession: Applebee's was my favorite restaurant in middle/high school. Don't laugh, it was a big deal when we got an Applebee's in Dothan.) there was a trip to the bowling alley and a loveable, teddy-bear guy named Goose; these things are also close to my heart because I too would go to the bowling alley to hang out--didn't even like to bowl and sometimes just sat there--and had a crush on an aforementioned type of guy names Moose. There's a kind of romance to never knowing a guy's last name, or real name for that matter. But that sounds like a more sordid story.

In Which I Confess New Self-Knowledge

Ok, so orientation went well. Busy but not too long days with lots of fun people. The Drew staff and professors were absolutely wonderful, and the English department proved to be the most exciting as far as new students and cool professors that showed up to various events. I got to be Superfriendly Brooke (people usually assume I'm in the mode anyway--must be the accent) and socialize and hobknob with deans and such, so that was fun all by itself.

And speaking of things at orientation that benefitted me personally, I rediscovered how much I love being in front of a crowd. There were welcomes and introductions to give, but the highlight came during a Q&A lunch on the final day. I had organized the event and planned to do the 7 or 8 speaker intros, but this quickly turned into an MC job for me. Some of the speakers were drifting in because of their other engagements at undergrad, theology, and faculty orientation, so there was some dead time that needed to be filled with me, me, me.

It started innocently enough with some extra announcements and questions but soon turned into a full blown comedy thing complete with jokes, random stories about softball and cute men, and even raffle prizes. I would like to give you more details, but I was so high on the experience that I don't remember most of it. (Ok, some of this is an exaggeration, but not much.)

That evening I found what will surely be my future career: bartending. We had a pub party that night and Madera (orientation co-chair) and I were behind the bar as to give others a chance to mingle. Don't feel bad for me though 'cause there was free beer only a half step away all night. And let me tell you, me+red cowboy boots+free beer+picking all the bar music+flirting with new and old students alike=one heck of a good time.

Everyone seemed to get a kick out of seeing me behind the bar and commented on what a natural combination Brooke and Bar were. They said I did a great job, and they thanked me and tipped me, but that could also be a result of the beer I gave away...

In the Midst

The first day of orientation went fairly well with a controlled amount of me not knowing what was going on. Mistakes were minor, like me forgetting to tell the students certain things, and other people in charge totally helped me out. We seem to have a good group of incoming students who are interested in the social aspect of our community as well as the academic--it seems a little like my first year.

Brandon is gone for the next two nights, so I have the place to myself which is nice. Perhaps I'll get laundry put away that I've had in my room for about a week...

We had our final composition teacher meeting yesterday and wow, was there a lot of information. And so much of it about posting things online, making websites, using internet/communal resources. Though I love the internet (you know that don't you, Internet?) I'm not familiar with these things, but I've been told that some people at Drew are specialists at helping the tech-uneducated get educated. And ain't that what it's all about--getting educated?

Flood and Loathing

Here are the transcripts of some messages Dale left on my phone as he was evacuating on Sunday, August 28th of last year.

10:17am - "Hi, um, it's me. Well, it was a nice city and a good place to live for a little while. I am on the road with a very upset Albus going after my parents to pick them up and try get out of town. So...I'm sure we will get out of town, there's plenty of time, it's just gonna be a pain in the ass. Ok, talk to you later."

8:34pm - "Hey it me, we're in Jackson at some crappy hotel, but we're here. I'm hoping that my parents go on to Memphis tomorrow and fly home. Gavin and Alison are staying at a friends place around here somewhere so I'm gonna hopefully hook up with them tomorrow, and go play with them. But ya know, night in a crappy hotel. Albus seem to be ok. Tired, depressed, and we're all grumpy..."

It's funny how the words don't seem to clearly convey very much nervousness, but I guess that shows just how unexpected the whole disaster was. I remember hearing the first line of that first message and rolling my eyes at how dramatic it was. I guess nobody knew.

Those messages were just too important to delete at first. Too loaded with emotion and fear and horror to simply erase by pressing a button. Then they represented something that I knew I should remember and think about because a person and a city that I love were so devastated. Now, they're a little bit of history to remind me how unexpected the whole thing was and how different things are in New Orleans now.

I also remember some of Dale's more upsetting phone calls, first from the road then from Jackson, when I realized how bad things were. Waiting for gas to get out of Jackson. Reporting internet news to them when they had no radio or cable. Then realizing how lucky Dale, Gavin, and Allison were to have evacuated. However, no phone call or message could have prepared me for the next few weeks of horror on the news or the next year of incompetent recovery efforts. New Orleans still needs lots of help, but as long as people remember that, there's hope.

Jesus is Coming, Look Busy!

So according to one of my earlier posts, I thought I would be working Sundays in the Kaplan office until the Second Coming. And no, not as severe as the monster slouching toward Bethlehem in my favorite Yeats poem (think Ed Hicks generic British Isles accent) kind of second coming, but office work can have its own downward spiral feel. The work isn't difficult or anything, just sometimes mindnumbingly dull or punchyouintheface annoying. Thankfully, my job teaching comp at Drew gave me the legitimate excuse to quit, so this Sunday is my LAST DAY in the office. There will be rejoicing in the streets. Much street rejoicing.

Not that this will prevent me from being in the office at least 3 days a week to tutor ESL students and teach SAT classes, but at least I don't have to put up with customer questions for a while.

Since Jesus will be coming back on the 27th, I am indeed trying to look busy. Better than that, I am actually busy.

• There is still the theory that I'll graduate in October for which I'll need to turn in my thesis September 11th. Working furiously, no food, no sleep.
  
• I'm Grad School Orientation Co-Chair this year, so I spend several hours a day emailing about various details like "Will you speak at the Q&A Lunch on Thursday?" or recording people's meal choice of London Broil with Mushroom Gravy or Grilled Portabello Mushrooms.
  
• Housesitting for some friends, but I totally don't mind this one 'cause there's kitties, a huge house and a fantastic kitchen where I can be totally alone and roam around half naked (I don't do the latter out of courtesy for my roommate who is generally not ok with naked girl parts)
• Oh, and planning my first syllabus. My labor of love. Finally, I get to cut through all the crap that professors made me do and plan a commonsensical and hopefully useful approach to a comp class. Though my students will surely hate me for it. Perhaps they won't be as annoyed by the class requirements though...
• Then there's babysitting for the "new" twins/family. They're six months old and absolutely precious. All soft and smiley. Alex has blond hair and blue eyes and his sister Julia has dark hair and eyes--they're a cute pair. Their older brother Andrew is a good kid too and their mom is supernice. Really, this part is just about the time constraint of having class on Monday and Friday then going to babysit.
  
• There's more odds and ends like random tutoring set up through Drew and planning and the English Back to School Party, but I won't go further.
  

Now that I think about it, I'm doing all this in case Jesus doesn't come back so I'll have some rent money. But if he does, I'll have made a good show there at the end.