...Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

That really is the name of the game, isn't it? It seemed like a good idea at the time- that's why we're doing anything that we're doing. "Why are you in the field that you are?" "because it seemed like a good idea at the time." "why were you running with scissors?" "...it seemed like a good idea at the time." "What happened to your hand? is that a machete? what were you doing with the machete?" "...it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

As you can see from the somewhat frightening train of thought displayed in the previous paragraph, there's a running trend right now in my life- I mean aside from the ongoing trend of various school work-related issues inducing feelings of wanting to impulsively play in traffic. Life is ridiculous. There's just no way around it. Currently, this stems from the "It seemed like a good idea at the time... to go on that date." Believe you me, it pretty much never is. I know, I know, the gypsy woman at Quincy Market promised I'd be getting married soon so why give up now? I'm pretty sure that given the trajectory of the current trend that this would be a poor move, and much more on the side of an error worthy of a Greek tragedy than a blessing. I wish I was joking. Luckily for you, I'm not.

Yes, I recently ventured back into dating. Possibly 'nough said. But I'll continue. Harkening back (is that even a valid phrase? Oh well it is now) to my last post yet again, the gypsy woman's blessing/prophetization (might also be a made up word) is turning out to be such that I might be justified in going back and demanding a refund. I mean, I can't because I don't actually want to get married. Heck, I don't even really want to force it, but situationally, online dating "seemed like a good idea at the time." Anyway, the dress she sold me was pretty.

But what leads to this being a good idea at the time? I'll pose the question: When you're back from a country that's 12 time zones away with the mother of all jetlags, you have no money, no ID, no credit card, what do you do? I'll tell you: if you're single, you sit at your computer at 4 o'clock in the morning because for you it's technically the middle of the afternoon and you're not seeing the backs of your eyelids anytime soon regardless of how tired and delirious you actually are. Then when you see one of those creepy ads on your e-mail sidebar (you know, the ones that mirror the content of your latest e-mails? you tell your friend "I like peas" and you end up with ads all over the place spouting headlines about "fresh produce!" "organic peas!" "green dye!" and my personal favorite "find peas in the yellow pages!") that says: "make a free profile," you do it. Why? because it seems like a good idea at the time- note that in order for it to be a good idea, that time is when you're jetlagged beyond coherency and you can't focus enough to do something constructive like read, and everything else in the city is closed.

So what am I doing? Nothing anymore. I seem to be getting the attempt out of my system. It's sort of like giving birth, as it's been explained to me. You forget the insanity of your last "relationship" almost immediately (bunny ears are necessary in this case). Well, I cyclically will attempt to date, then turn unhappy when they realize "oh weird, you really are going to keep up this prolonged adolescence with this ridiculous job, aren't you? can you like, not?" and then I will run for cover. After awhile I'll forget (because I have the memory retention prowess of a domesticated gold fish) and think "huh, that wasn't really so bad, maybe I'll give it another shot". Then all hell breaks loose and I throw up my hands and wonder what ailed my head enough to make me think that that was ever a good idea. Okay so it's not like that right now, but it's not my favorite place to be ever. I'm going to have to see that gypsy woman about a blessing or remedy or some such to ward off the selective amnesia.

What's in the Water?

Has anybody else noticed that EVERYBODY is getting married/engaged/having babies? No, seriously, there are albums all over facebook of surprise weddings that I never saw coming. I'm not the only one who feels like this is a frightening development and that maybe there is something in the water. Por ejemplo: I was talking to my oldest friend about this, and mentioned, "oh did you see that so-and-so got married?" there was a pause, followed by "...To a man?" "I know, right?"

I'm not saying I need to get married, I'm just sort of surprised. But I have been in 2 weddings and am coming up on my third performance next October. Yes, it's a performance. If it sees me in a dress, with make up and shoes other than sandals, then it's a performance. I liked those weddings though, probably because I know the people and love them dearly. What's that saying? Three times a bridesmaid? Oh well, it happens.

1) Back when I was a teenager, I was in my lovely cousin's wedding. It was great, my uncle had a string trio/quartet/gang of string instrumentalists play at the reception. At some point they played a Celtic set and the groom and his family (they're Irish) hit the floor step dancing. I was impressed.

2) Last year, I was in a childhood friend's wedding. That was a spectacular endeavor, let me tell you. I got fitted for the dress and then promptly left for the field. All summer. I went from France to Turkey to Guatemala to Honduras and it was a little on the ridiculous side. Last time I went to Guatemala I came back about 20 pounds heavier. I know right? I went from 115 to 135. I'm pretty sure that was horrendous. Okay so gaining a few inches (or like 5) on my waist wasn't my favorite, but really, the horrifying part was that I had to buy new clothes. Let's just say that I'm not a fan of shopping. when you hate shopping or being around a lot of people, suddenly being faced with the fact that you have to replace ALL of your pants feels what I would imagine knowing you're about to be hit by a car feels like- you've just walked into the cross walk and realized that car just isn't stopping... I mean, especially when you've spent the last 20 years getting away with wearing what mom brings home (from 6th grade...), and hand me downs from your god mother's sons (things that I love and STILL keep in my closet).

I mean, part of this phobia comes from the fact that mom insists every article of clothing, and therefore all pairs of pants, are sewn differently. Yes, I still go shopping with my mom when I have to get clothes. 1) if she left it up to me, I'd put it out of my mind and it'd just never get done 2) if I am forced into doing it out of necessity by myself, odds are that I can't be trusted and will botch it somehow. Well, I'm improving recently... But anyway, it isn't enough just to try on a size and see that it fits and go pick up a stack of size whatever pants. Oh no, no no, if you need 3 - 5 pairs of pants, and decide to go simple (as I will to get out of the store as soon as possible, damnit) and pick 3 - 5 pairs of the SAME pair of pants, you are stuck in the dressing room for the next hour and a half of your life trying on every pair of size whatever pants to make sure they fit as well as pair-of-pants-take-one because "No, Lauren, they are NOT the same! Look, this one has a funny pocket..."

Back from that tangent, yeah, so I came back the week of the wedding terrified that I wasn't going to fit into the dress. I had absolutely monitored all of my eating habits that summer- dress fit fine, was even a touch big. I can't say that I wasn't pleased. While I was in Honduras, I had commented to a friend's boyfriend, who happens to be Mexican, that I needed to be on a diet. He thought this over with grave contemplation etched into his face for a few seconds before carefully responding, with deliberation: "Yes." His English sounds phenomenal because he listens to American music all the time. But he didn't actually have any idea what the hell I was saying, so positively responding "yes" seemed like the thing to do. His girlfriend was horrified. Last time he and I had a talk that ended like this was

Me: "Wow, your English is a lot better than my Spanish!"
Him: "...yes."
Her: "NO!"

You see where this is going. So anyway, I kept myself well enough limited on insane food intake to fit in the dress and attend this wedding in decent shape (haha, shape. Like in-shape. I think I'm funny...).

3) My other childhood friend is getting married next October. I'm ridiculously excited about this. Her fiancee proposed in Paris, and I'm pretty sure that he's my new favorite person. I get updates from time to time in my inbox about the state of the union (haha, more funny...). I love it. They've known each other since high school, it's like a fairy tale romance.

So here I am, I bought a dress from this Ukrainian woman in Quincy a few weeks ago. She asked me where I was from, what school, etc, and when I finally broke down and told her she, being the stellar saleswoman she was, called me a genius. This led to, "you have a boyfriend?" "um... no." Seeing this as a mistake, she turned mystic, but still very nice of course. She blessed my dress, gave me a discount for being a foreigner, and told me I would definitely be getting married soon. Awesome. Actually, it makes me wonder if that's what this is all about? This woman has been blessing dresses and inducing marriage all over the place. Half of my graduating class DOES come to Boston/live here.

On the subject of Office Renovations...

Alright, I can admit it. I'm procrastinating. I've been up since before 7 am, a weird trend that's marked this week. I've been productive, writing various things for a few hours only after taking a 3 mile run. but now I'm at the lunch time crawl. Which is ridiculous, because I ate an entire pizza by myself last night... I know, that made no logical sense. I'll leave you with this tid bit... and then go back to typing.

"So, now's not the time to ask for the approval to renovate my office into a replica of the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon? ...don't give me that look. If you can think of another way that I can include 'punch it, Chewie' into daily conversation, I'd love to hear it."

:)

What month is this? Is this really August?

I've come to the conclusion that I exist within a black hole, and its vacuum travels with me wherever I go. No, seriously, how did it get to be August already?

So... I went to China. My wallet was stolen with my passport, my cash, my license, my credit card, even my student ID. In my first hour on Chinese soil. This could be funny, except not really. I spent hour 2 in the police station. At least I could amuse myself with the hilarity of the officers' facial expressions as my friend, who is Chinese, told them my name- which is obviously very far from Chinese. The trend of people speaking at me, and then asking why I was acting like a deaf mute, and then raising an eyebrow and dropping a jaw at "What? Huh? I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" continued throughout the duration of my trip. Actually, it only got funnier as custody (of me) was turned over to a friend who is tall, blond, blue eyed, and speaks fluent Mandarin. Perhaps the best reaction ever was on a bus. An elderly gentleman gave my arm a tug as I was standing on the crowded bus, so that I could sit in the newly vacated seat beside him. He seemed very amused by my dress which was... distinctly field clothing, and chuckled to himself as he inspected a corner of my obviously not-so-feminine shirt. I would sort of smile, nod, and offer him some of what ever the hell it was I was eating. I think it was Baodzu... anyway, as we neared my stop, my friend came up from the back of the bus, and poked me to let me know we were getting off. I asked her to tell him I didn't speak Chinese, because I hadn't had the heart to tell him myself. She leaned in, and told a now very bewildered man that the girl sitting next to him with a very Chinese face was not Chinese, didn't speak Chinese, and that she was sorry. He stared for about a minute before dissolving into a torso shaking laugh. There are other stories, but I'll save them. Otherwise, I saw the beautiful Sichuan countryside, and hiked the tallest mountain in China, Emeishan. There were monkeys. They were enormous. But Emeishan was an incredible thing in and of itself. On the way there, we visited Leshan, which has the largest Buddha, carved into a rock face, and walked in the Yangtze.

So the mountains of China are all outfitted with stairs for hiking trails. This might seem more helpful but actually, it's like the mother of all staircases, and it's hell on your knees. However, the biodiversity on the mountain was incredible. I keep journals when I travel, and I write in them religiously.

Excerpt: "The stone steps, some of which were recycled grave stones etched with characters, were very low, straining the knees. As we walked, I started to observe the wealth of ecological richness about us. Colorful butterflies frittered about in the tree canopy and up and over the path. Earthworms, formidable in size to snakes, iridescent, sneaking across the steps. What I believe were even planaria, glistening along, narrow bodies clinging to the earth as they inched forward so smoothly that they may as well have been gliding by a mechanism imperceptible to the human eye. Slugs as big as potatoes, lurking everywhere, but even so with a lovely camouflage encasing them to disguise their surfaces as fallen, curling leaves..."

So now I'm back. I got over the jetlag better than expected. Mom picked me up for the family vacation the next day, and after lunch on the way up, I apparently passed out in the front seat for the next 5 hours. When I woke up, we were at the cabin. I groggily got out of the vehicle, and was just coherent enough to drag myself inside and find my room- since my sister and I were sharing the room with the bunk beds, and she'd claimed the bottom, I somehow made it up the ladder and crashed for the next 15 hours or so. all in all, a pretty spectacular performance. Completely slept through dinner. It was great.

Maine was wonderful. My uncle came and he's just been diagnosed with cancer... they're pretty sure he'll be okay, but we played a lot of board games, he won all of them, and wandered around the coast. I went back to running and would go out every morning for 2-5 miles, eat roadside blueberries (I know, healthy, right?), and pick lupines. I did a lot of work on my prospectus. This was, of course, vetoed by my director, but at the time I felt productive.

Back at school, I still run 2-4 miles every morning, or at least 6 days a week. My vegetables in the garden are... well, they're stunted. I have a patch of vegetables so stunted by the incessant rain that they're miniaturized. I can make perhaps half a salad. At least it'll be adorable.

The highlight of my day today, which broke up the paper writing, was going out for lunch... and a little more. It was splendid!

Now, for your viewing amusement: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_TIOfUEudo

My awesome roommate found this and passed it my way. I appreciated it. I was on the floor laughing. Cheers!

Oh, the Mundanity of a Day Without Sleep.

I'm on my 40th hour with no sleep. I think. I'm not entirely certain anymore. You see, I had a presentation to give today in class, and I spent about 20 hours on it straight. Starting yesterday early afternoon. Then I just decided not to go to bed, went to my office around 8 pm, went and picked my roommate up from the airport- she got in from her cruise with a sun burn. I commented on the novelty of a sunburn and how I was envious for one of my own. She thinks I'm weird.

Gave said presentation, which after spending so much time on, one would think it would last for the prescribed 40 minutes to an hour. Instead, it seems that 20 hours of work equates roughly in my speaking speed to 15 minutes of actual presentation. When I looked up at the clock and saw that there was half an hour left I was positively mortified. Luckily, there were enough questions (either because the subject material was interesting or because I was inarticulate the first time I ran through the material... who knows... I try to comfort myself by thinking it was the former....) to keep up going up to the last minute of class. Though I got the stern: You're coming to office hours tomorrow, right? which, the professor is right, I have to go. he's been exceedingly helpful, and even though it's like digging at my own side with a screwdriver, might be one of the best remedies for my infernal shyness.

Oh, yes, but now my eyes have ceased to focus and images are starting to cross.

Surveys, Downpours, & Beers

I've been putting in vast amounts of my time trying to compare costs for various data carriers for this project I'm doing. I won't bore you with the technical details, but this stems off of a project that I started working on over the summer, surveying a river valley and the spatial relationships between particular monuments. Neat, eh?

It's a rainy-ish day out and on one of the early days of the survey, which was only about 2 weeks to begin with, it was a little bit cloudy but nothing spectacular. Our biggest goal was to measure the distance across the valley using a total station- so you shoot a beam of light from the machine to a prism which reflects it back, and in the time it takes for the light to travel, the distance is calculated.

But the distance across the valley was pretty damned big. I don't ask any of my team to do anything I haven't done or won't do, so I took my friend's boyfriend's GPS and went with a guide that morning. Upon reaching the top, the battery went dead, and I became extremely unhappy- but... saw that there was a point from which I could plant a prism and take the point without trees in the way.

So when I returned for lunch, I informed said boyfriend that it would be his turn after lunch. One of the students expressed an interest in tagging along on the trip, and since I was shooting, I said sure. He could practice his Spanish, the boyfriend could practice his English, the guide could take some time to walk instead of excavate (which I prefer too) and I could take the point.

But before they left, I noticed the clouds in the sky- we were in the rainy season afterall- and voiced some concerns about the weather. "No, no lluvia. No es una problema." About 15 minutes after they left, and the hike takes about an hour or two up the other side of the ridge, the winds picked up and the clouds descended on us. Our director came booking it up to the site "Pack it in! The skies are about to open up! We're in for a torrential rainstorm!" I got a little uneasy. I'd harangued the boyfriend that morning to not forget the cell phone, specifically for the purpose of dealing with the survey today. We could call him! Tell them to come back down... Unfortunately, their end wasn't getting any reception. One of the supervisors reassured me and said he'd seen the driver take off like a bat out of hell when the winds picked up, and he was likely on his way to pick them up now- because the guide knew, and would bring them back down the ridge immediately.

This might have been the case in an ideal world. About an hour later we were all indoors at one of the lab facilities. Our director going through roll call to make sure that all the field school students were in. There was a long pause at one point. "Um, has anybody seen..." I cringed and slunk into the adjacent lab space of the girl whose boyfriend I had just sent to drown with the student and offered to be slave labor on her current sorting project.

Some 5 hours later - I had stayed late at the lab - I finally went back to our living quarters. The boyfriend and the student were just getting back from the trip, and were drenched- though with mud up to mid torso. I ran to the friend and her boyfriend's room. "um... I'm sorry? Desculpe?" "...take your phone." was the response from the bathroom where he was wringing out his clothing. The student, apparently, had had a blast and was regaling his fellow cohort with tales of the bridge being washed out, tramping through fields, etc. "We called the driver! He didn't pick up! His wife did! she said he was at the bar!" Apparently, when the winds picked up the guide didn't bring them down- he rushed them to the top. Afterwhich point, they finally ventured down- as the lightening bolts were all around them and they were standing at arguably the highest point of a cleared ridge under an itty bitty aluminum roof... but at the bottom, the river had risen by several feet and the bridge was washed out. So they had to find an alternate route- which entailed wading through streams all holding onto the pole for the prism so they didn't get swept away (particularly the guide, he was definitely under 5 feet tall) going several miles out of the way and trespassing through the fields of various farmers. Luckily, the guide they were with knew everyone in the general area, and so they didn't get shot at. At least I could tell my director that I hadn't killed off his student. For the rest of the season, I'm pretty sure that most of the students who went on survey believed that the guide was god.

Beers and dinner were on me.

Partly because of the ordeal- mostly because I was sending them back up the next morning.

Monkeys, "Kitties", and Reinvention

Once upon a time, I had strong opinions. While I've never been the type to be imposing, it was comforting for me to have them all the same.

In the last 18 months I suppose something changed all that, and much of my internal dialogue dissipated. I went from being extremely introspective to hardly being able to look at myself without becoming frustrated.

In the last few months, however, I've been trying to find the patience to redefine myself within the same margins I maintained in that time long lost, but perhaps with room for expansion. If that makes any sense outside of my head.

This was set in motion when I began rereading some books that I once held extremely dear. I remembered that I could think about things beyond what I am supposed to be studying- talking, well... talking is still another matter. But one hurtle at a time.

In line with uncovering what I used to be, here is one of my favorite memories:

Our first day in camp of my first field project, our director showed us around, and pointed out things we should probably avoid contact with: "Do you see that spiny semi-venomous swinging vine? Don't touch it." Several weeks later, I went out on survey and learned, the hard way, that you do not brace yourself with your hands when you fall. Instead, you fall like a tree. The reason being, that I soon discovered, because you will almost certainly lose the use of your hands for several days. The vine he had pointed out was miserably on the ground in front of me, and I ended up with needle like points in my right hand, under my nails, and all the way up my forearm. Several months later, there would still be points working their ways out from the depths of my flesh. As one might have guessed, the survey team was some hours away from camp, so I was stuck on the sidelines for a day or so.

While I sat, fixing my notes- left handed, awkwardly- and contemplating life, I started listening. The jungle is no quiet place. The noise rivals that of an urban place, only the notes of the tune are more pleasant. Eventually, I put down my notebook and looked. Having grown up in a house tucked in a small nook in the woods, and being slightly socially awkward, I learned early that you could become acquainted with secretive aspects of the forest if you were quiet and patient. With me was sitting the eldest member of the team- in his 60s, with more vitality than anybody I had ever met, and also who knew the jungle better. After some time in silence, a small body poked its nose out of the underbrush, and weaved its lanky body through the clearing we were sitting in. Clearly a mammal, but like none I had ever lad eyes on. In passing, it gave us an unconcerned glance, as though we were little more than another tree among many but with an odd scent, and moved along on its way to someplace important. I turned to him after the gravity of the animal's presence had dissipated. I had been speaking Spanish for little more than a month or two, but managed weakly: "Que es?" to which he answered with an enchanted look and slight shrug "No se."

The fall on the spiny vine was actually a blessing. We were later graced with the visit of howler monkeys and a jaguarundi. I keep travel journals to keep track of the progression of my thoughts when I go someplace- I wrote of the encounters very lightly until now. This could be a function of my needing time to find appropriate wording for things very dear to me. Have you heard the Twain expression: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightening and the lightening bug"?