Last tutoring session of the schoolyear was this week, so my subpar chemistry knowledge will be put on hold for the summer (but isn't my student the cutest thing you've ever seen?).
Sometimes I voluntarily practice the piano for an hour and then I want to call my mom because when did that ever happen?
Have you been watching Sherlock? If not, do yourself a favor and watch the first season (three episodes) on Netflix streaming. Then watch the second season on PBS.org. Or just buy the DVDs. You won't be sorry. Remember how I told you to watch Downton Abbey? I didn't lead you astray with that one, did I?
Humidity levels less than 90% would be a welcome change right now.
New life plan: write a wildly successful young adult novel and use the profits to open a bakery.
I wore pants today for the first time in over a month. Like so many ingenious ideas, I didn't really set out to do it on purpose at first, but eventually the idea of No-Pants July took shape. It was especially handy around the time a massive heatwave made even a breeze feel like someone was pointing a giant hair dryer in your face. Things got a little dicey last week when we had a random evening of 70-degree rain and wind, but I powered through. Today I wore jeans just because I could, and when I got to work the air conditioning was broken. Bummer.
Ice cream for dinner at Serendipity during the heat wave. The only choice.
Marathon training also started about 5 weeks ago and is going well so far. There are definitely still mornings when I wimp out (those mornings usually involve something higher than 85% humidity) and I don't love having to wake up at 6:30 on Saturday mornings to get a long run in before it's blazing hot, but I've surprised myself with how diligent I've been. Also surprising is how I manage to get choked up every time I read someone's account of running a marathon or see pictures from a marathon or think about running the final stretch down 5th Avenue (seriously! It's happening right now, you guys!). I guess I'm looking forward to it.
By the way, one month from tomorrow I leave for Peru.
Last night I did something I thought I never would in my entire life.
I'm not proud of it. I managed to get through 5 years living in Utah without it happening.
I attended a country music concert.
We were offered tickets to the Lady Antebellum show through work, and knowing that my friend loves them intensely, I got them. Because I am a really good person.
I might have danced a little. And possibly sung along to that one song that I know (and that, okay, I have on my iPod). And only once mocked the lead guy's many entreaties that we "get this party started".
It was actually kind of fun. Please don't judge me.
Pictures, articles, and videos of this project started popping up on the internet and in the Post last week, and it looked pretty hilarious. I know I'm not alone in feeling the city could seriously benefit from an initiative like this.
This weekend, driving rain coupled with 60 mph winds turned New York City into an umbrella graveyard. On Saturday afternoon, my roommate and I ventured out to the nicer grocery store several blocks from our apartment to get some things for a party we were having. I was happy we were together as I would have felt really stupid clutching my umbrella in front of me like a shield and shrieking if I'd been by myself. Instead, it was kind of hilarious. We opted to take the bus back after finishing our shopping, and didn't really brave the elements again that day (though all our party guests had to... they were rewarded handsomely with pie, though). Sunday morning, the carnage was everywhere--mangled skeletons of umbrellas, dumped hastily in garbage cans or lying abandoned in gutters. It was strangely poetic.
Thankfully, the 10-day forecast shows sunny and 60 degrees, with only one day of rain during that time. Except, guess which day that is? Half marathon day. I also appear to be coming down with a cold, so I'm downing NyQuil and am currently at about 2000% DV of Vitamin C (you can't overdose on vitamins, can you?). Bring it.
Tomorrow is my first day of school. When I finished college, I secretly wished I could stay another semester or two and just take classes that I wanted to for fun. But since I'd already been there for 5 years and gone on study abroad (twice), I figured it was best not to try my parents' patience any further.
Anyway, I'd been thinking for a while about taking a class of some kind, since there are so many options around the city for continuing education. I settled on learning a new language, and decided to try French on for size. My reasons include 1) the fact that I took Spanish in high school and was awesome at it (we won't go into my retention, which is probably more relevant now that I live in a heavily Dominican neighborhood, but whatever), 2) it sounds pretty, and 3) it is one of my life's ambitions to meet a cute foreign boy and have zany/romantic adventures together while riding around on a scooter, a la Passport to Paris.
(For reference, my other life's ambitions include winning an Oscar for Best Original Score, meeting Ben Folds, and being a contestant on Cash Cab.)
My friend Zach signed up to take the weekly class with me, and we've already envisioned great things for ourselves. We're convinced that our plan to speak to each other exclusively in French after about week 5 will amaze both friends and strangers, even though our conversations will mostly consist of things like, "Where is the library?" and "I like oranges!"
I figure that, after the 14 weeks are up, my life in general will look something like this:
