"In the car, we were looking for ourselves but found each other."
Last week, I submitted a draft of my first case, and while there's a good amount of revision to be done, that's part of the process. It certainly didn't hurt my self-esteem that most of the criticism was on material that the old Research Associate wrote, rather than stuff that I generated. Next week is going to be a deal of focused time working on the book that my professor is writing with a senior fellow and another professor at HBS. But at the very least, I have a trip to the MFA to look forward to on Wednesday, not to mention the summertime Dean's House lunchtime barbecue on campus. I went last week for the first time, and it was a beautiful day with great food and hilarious conversation (to the point that I laughed so hard that I spit out my iced tea into someone else's--which could be worse since I had beer spat on my leg last night when another person laughed hard at some joke.)
This weekend began with a performance at the Oberon called 'Acoustica Electronica.' Actually, this week began with a Zumba class at HBS, in which I was the youngest attendee, and then leaving work early for a self-congratulatory manicure and pedicure with K.F. while watching US vs China water polo. And then a belgian waffle and Zinneken's in Harvard Square. But back to the performance--one of the former RAs (and fellow Princeton alum!) pitched it to the RA social listserv and I'm glad I bit. It was something along the lines of what would happen if William Shakespeare owned a night club. The combination of opera and electronic riffs was remarkably good and the dance talent was spot on. It was a little like watching the American equivalent of geishas: a bunch of multitalented, professional performers seeking to entertain you with a culturally-savvy combination of acting, dancing, and singing. Then I was going to meet up with a charming young man at a bar, but when that fell through because of the late hour, I headed home and looked at some pictures from the past and reminisced about things that I have a hard time thinking about without getting vaguely sentimental and wanting to listen to Barenaked Ladies' "In the Car."
Saturday was a trip to Revere Beach, which was a surprisingly delightful adventure. 4 coworkers, one frisbee and nerf football, and one knife-fight-worthy bar venue, Bill Ash's Lounge: "It's hard to imagine having a rip roaring good time while also fearing that you're going to get your throat slit. But Bill Ash's Lounge pulls off that double as few bars in the greater Boston area can." (from Yelp). Between the cheap but delicious pizza from a hole in the bar wall and the cheap, but heavy-handed drinks, it was a dive bar after my own heart. Like the Jersey Shore, but with sketchy meth heads. After party-showering off and being dressed in the borrowed robes of dear K.F., the coworker chilling continued, with one gentleman substituted and one dog added. And a keg of flat beer, in which I did not partake. There is very little in this world quite like playing banagrams and apples to apples on a porch, and then nearly passing out inside a hammock at 2AM.
The weekend reached its conclusion in a brunch. The lovely M.S. lent his kitchen to the noble cause, and the turnout was around 12 people. I wish I'd had more time to hang out and chat, but the pancakes required a good deal of attention and labor. Well worth it, though--reese's pieces in pancakes were a total win. Luckily, W.R. and his girlfriend were able to help out on the hashbrowns and eggs front. And bacon. Never forget the bacon. Even if I can never think about bacon the same way again after reading the "Sexting with Tucker Max" exchanges in the final book in the Tucker Max trilogy, "Hilarity Ensues."
As I sit in my apartment, I'm enjoying the alone time after the weekend of socialization. At the same time, while I truly look forward to living in my new one-bedroom next month, I hope it doesn't lead to my feeling terribly lonely. I'm getting a taste of that right now in my sublet, too. I'm good at being on my own, and I'm comfortable being by myself, but there's something about being alone in the evening between 5PM and whenever sleeping happens, especially after a really solid, planned weekend.
I'm off to kill some time with a walk through the squares of Cambridge. It's not too late to be around people, even if they're strange tourists at Crema. Or maybe I'll settle for a decent perusal of the River St. Whole Foods, which is always a trip. Maybe I'll even cook my lunch for tomorrow--the rain is pouring and there's not much to do, unless I want to start revising the case.
Nahhh...
This weekend began with a performance at the Oberon called 'Acoustica Electronica.' Actually, this week began with a Zumba class at HBS, in which I was the youngest attendee, and then leaving work early for a self-congratulatory manicure and pedicure with K.F. while watching US vs China water polo. And then a belgian waffle and Zinneken's in Harvard Square. But back to the performance--one of the former RAs (and fellow Princeton alum!) pitched it to the RA social listserv and I'm glad I bit. It was something along the lines of what would happen if William Shakespeare owned a night club. The combination of opera and electronic riffs was remarkably good and the dance talent was spot on. It was a little like watching the American equivalent of geishas: a bunch of multitalented, professional performers seeking to entertain you with a culturally-savvy combination of acting, dancing, and singing. Then I was going to meet up with a charming young man at a bar, but when that fell through because of the late hour, I headed home and looked at some pictures from the past and reminisced about things that I have a hard time thinking about without getting vaguely sentimental and wanting to listen to Barenaked Ladies' "In the Car."
Saturday was a trip to Revere Beach, which was a surprisingly delightful adventure. 4 coworkers, one frisbee and nerf football, and one knife-fight-worthy bar venue, Bill Ash's Lounge: "It's hard to imagine having a rip roaring good time while also fearing that you're going to get your throat slit. But Bill Ash's Lounge pulls off that double as few bars in the greater Boston area can." (from Yelp). Between the cheap but delicious pizza from a hole in the bar wall and the cheap, but heavy-handed drinks, it was a dive bar after my own heart. Like the Jersey Shore, but with sketchy meth heads. After party-showering off and being dressed in the borrowed robes of dear K.F., the coworker chilling continued, with one gentleman substituted and one dog added. And a keg of flat beer, in which I did not partake. There is very little in this world quite like playing banagrams and apples to apples on a porch, and then nearly passing out inside a hammock at 2AM.
The weekend reached its conclusion in a brunch. The lovely M.S. lent his kitchen to the noble cause, and the turnout was around 12 people. I wish I'd had more time to hang out and chat, but the pancakes required a good deal of attention and labor. Well worth it, though--reese's pieces in pancakes were a total win. Luckily, W.R. and his girlfriend were able to help out on the hashbrowns and eggs front. And bacon. Never forget the bacon. Even if I can never think about bacon the same way again after reading the "Sexting with Tucker Max" exchanges in the final book in the Tucker Max trilogy, "Hilarity Ensues."
As I sit in my apartment, I'm enjoying the alone time after the weekend of socialization. At the same time, while I truly look forward to living in my new one-bedroom next month, I hope it doesn't lead to my feeling terribly lonely. I'm getting a taste of that right now in my sublet, too. I'm good at being on my own, and I'm comfortable being by myself, but there's something about being alone in the evening between 5PM and whenever sleeping happens, especially after a really solid, planned weekend.
I'm off to kill some time with a walk through the squares of Cambridge. It's not too late to be around people, even if they're strange tourists at Crema. Or maybe I'll settle for a decent perusal of the River St. Whole Foods, which is always a trip. Maybe I'll even cook my lunch for tomorrow--the rain is pouring and there's not much to do, unless I want to start revising the case.
Nahhh...