My gChat status tonight was something along the lines of “all-nighting in the libz. fml.” Many people were nice enough to inquire why I was doing such a thing. And many recent alums were nice enough to remind me that I would miss such things, especially the library itself next year. And as I was leaving the library at 5AM and walking across the very still, very quiet quad, passing the Chapel which was as always bathing in glowing pillars of light, imposing and inspiring and breath taking, like it has been every time I have taken the time to pause and really LOOK at it, I thought to myself, I really might miss this sort of thing.
And then I remembered that I’d just spent three hours writing a paper about Chinese Yuppies and started late because of a three hour long shouting match of a meeting (and a lovely seder, more on that later) and I just wanted to have been asleep five hours ago and I decided that I might kind of miss it but I won’t miss this stuff that much.
(The other stuff? Oodles. Clearly. But this stuff? Not so much, no. And if in a fit of nostalgia I decide that I do, I will come read this post and remember that it sucked and decide again that I don’t.)
I am no longer in charge of any campus organizations. Multiple people have promised me celebratory beverages. I think A.Dack and I will have to toast being totally emeritus on Thursday (am excited about the thoroughly preplanned dinner, in case you missed that) and in general after I finish the two (!) papers due this week, this new feeling will sink in and be awesome.
“What is there to hate what about a bunch of kids who play […] with integrity? […] It starts with a J, and it ends with an S. You put the other letters in it. It goes J E A L O U S. There’s a lot of jealousy involved with their success.”—Dick Vitale on Duke haters (via laviebelem)
That game was everything about why I love basketball and why being a long-term Duke fan is so incredible and why three years of mediocre-for-us basketball is no paying off riht now in the spring of my senior year and in general that was some fierce, sick, throat-grabbing basketball. IS THERE ANYTHING MORE AMAZING THAN THAT?
No. No, there is not. When we hit those threes, the entire house was parked on the couch, staring at the screen, willing those balls into the hoop.
“The conjunction of a black president and a female speaker of the House — topped off by a wise Latina on the Supreme Court and a powerful gay Congressional committee chairman — would sow fears of disenfranchisement among a dwindling and threatened minority in the country no matter what policies were in play. It’s not happenstance that Frank, Lewis and Cleaver — none of them major Democratic players in the health care push — received a major share of last weekend’s abuse. When you hear demonstrators chant the slogan “Take our country back!,” these are the people they want to take the country back from.”—
According your your latest blog post, you own a bump it. As the knower of all that is in your closet, and I offended that you have bought such an item without my consultation.
I seriously hope that this is some kind of satirical narration on the state of America’s youth, and that you have not indeed gone round the bend.
I don’t yet. I am going to in about two hours so that it can be my theme item for the aepi date function tonight. It would have been helpful if I had already bought one in Jan for the jersey shore party. Alas I did not. But soon. Soon.
We are all sitting around in the living room reading blogs on our Macs (literally, five Macs, all aglow) and GChatting and watching the Health Care vote on CSPAN. This either makes us the best Americans ever or the worst, but we are definitely super, super white right now.
ETA: Danielle pointed out that even more ironic was the fact that I then BLOGGED about this special (on-going) moment. Then Robel (welcome back Robez!) mispronounced meta. And then we decided me writing this ETA made it even MORE meta. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
So in the past week or so (more like 9 days, but close enough) I have had a lot of cool sensory overload experiences. They include the following:
1) Duke-UNC (obvi): One of the cooler things I’ve done at Duke, super intense, super spirited and utterly the quintessential Duke experience. I was a little grumpy circa 9AM Monday morning when I was forced to go to College Gameday but the rest of the time I was just really glad to be there and be part of this totally amazing collective. Especially the hours leading up to the game, watching everyone get painted up and get in line and start cheering, it was amazingly powerful. There was a group of old people standing near the entrance to Cameron, watching us all stream in and at first I thought it was weird but then I thought about it and understood why they would want to tap into their pure blue vein of Duke spirit.
"School spirit" was one of the things I was looking for in a school four years ago as a high schooler touring campuses and I very successfully found a school that provided it in spades which the game proved ten times over.
2) Spring Awakening: ON STAGE SEATS. I was literally in risers, on the stage, viewing the action from sometimes mere INCHES away. There was a point where I was watching across the stage (I think it was the moment that the planted “audience members” aka understudies stood up and started singing, which surprised me even though I knew that was supposed to happen) and felt a fabric against my arm. I looked over.
And there was frikkin Wendla, singing next to me on the platform. Her skirt was brushing my arm. I died.
In a rare occurrence, the second act seemed to go faster than the first even. And the solo numbers were great, but the big group numbers? AMAZING. There was action all around, including up on the slatted wall behind us and the actors were flicking us off and I could SEE THE SPIT (this was a lot like the time I could see the sweat coming off the dancers when I sat first row for In The Heights). I could feel the floorboards beneath my feet vibrate with the dancing and the extras in their seats, stomping their feet in time with the music.
Also Melchior sat in front of me a bunch and I am in love with him. (But of course.)
3) On Thursday I climbed a waterfall. Admittedly this was less of a unique and transformative experience than the other two things but it was the most authentic experience we had in Jamaica and it WAS really cool. I am not an athletic person generally but I DO enjoy climbing things at my own pace. I can be nimble-ish on my toes when there is a need (which there was). It was drenching and we looked ridiculous but it was also very cool and something that I think was pretty unique to that river and those falls. And it was a cool bonding experience, documented spottily through Jordy’s waterproofed camera case.
There is something to be said for being places and doing things. That is kind of an obvious statement, but in a digital era so often we take the facsimile of a thing as being at least being sufficient if not almost as good and it takes time to remember that it’s… not. Listening to the soundtrack of Spring Awakening a million times will never be near as good a watching them do it and hearing their actual voices more than their mikes. Watching the game, even in Dillo or even in seats at Cameron, will never be quite like standing in that pulsing, bouncing student section. And looking at pictures or walking alongside a waterfall will never be as real as being knee deep in the churning water, feeling it press into your feet with every step.
There is a value to being places and doing things. And this week was one of those weeks that reminded me of that.
Have just finished my third apocalyptic novel in a week (this last one was compelling enough to keep me up until 6AM) and am both severely bummed out, slightly in need of chocolate and yet oddly overwhelmed with a larger sense of purpose in the cosmos.
Among other things, this is why I love novels. The good ones can really sock you in the stomach in a way that few other things can.
Going to try to sleep now I suppose. Or something.
“Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.”—
(I was about to add “obvi,” but I just got a post reblogged on “Case of the Obvis” and I can’t decide if this is a good, bad or neutral thing. So I refrained, to avoid repeat appearances in close succession.)