cards

as the holiday season built up through december, i found myself experiencing many obvious firsts. i got my own first christmas tree. i decorated our apartment for christmas for the first time. it wasn't until a week before christmas that i realized one of the most telling firsts, though. i was getting christmas cards. from my friends.

when i was growing up, there was a noticable increase in the mail my mom recieved around christmas. cards started to arrive in the middle of december and she would hang them around the house. there were a fair amount of cards where i knew the sender. the friends she saw every week sent her a note, as well as the family we were going to see for a christmas celebration. it seemed the majority of the cards came from the friends she had known for most of her life.

i had met or heard of some of these people, but there were plenty i had never known of other than christmas card. these cards would have letters or pictures detailing the latest in their lives. as a teenager, i couldn't quite understand these relationships because i couldn't relate to the kind of friendship that meant getting a christmas card once a year. yet seeing those cards was a part of one of those standard stages of coming of age -- realizing my parents had lives before children.

and now, getting my own christmas cards from my own friends who i see once or twice a year seems to be another step in my coming of age. while i can't start to imagine what it is like to be 40 years old and catch up with a friend i had in my twenties, i understand that the friends i have now have been incedibly important to me and even if it is just a card once a year, i still want to hear from them.

as i read a card from one of my friends, it dawned on me the gravity of having christmas card friends. not only does it mean that i will keep in touch with these people via the christmas card for a long time, it means that in 20 years i will be updating these people on my life. what will my christmas cards in 20 years even say?

respect

this weekend, i went to a minor league hockey game in portland with my dad. i am actually a big hockey fan--especially college and minor league, so i was excited to be at the game. as often happens, though, i became distracted by watching a few different groups of people around me.

first, i focused on a group of about seven twenty-something kids we were sharing the row of seats with. most people attending the game were with family, so these people immediately stuck out. then, they started to get up about every ten minutes in pairs and leave to go to the concourse, always going past my dad and me on their way out. often times, they would come back with beers. the other times i imagine the left to relieve themselves from all of that beer.

the other group of people that caught my eye was in the section next to us. when i first noticed them, there were about six kids and one dad to watch them all. as the game went on, it seemed like more kids showed up and the parents took turns watching the kids, who all wanted to sit together close to the ice, while the off-duty parents sat a bit higher up. i see groups like this all the time at BU games. I figure the majority of the kids are on a hockey team together, perhaps one or two are friends or little brothers who have tagged along for the ride. the parents know each other from the kids games. one or two are probably the coaches who think seeing a professional hockey team will be great for their team.

as the hockey game was winding down, i realized that these two groups i had been watching had a very similar situation happen to them, and each had dealt with it very differently. one of the girls in the same row as us accidentally spilled her beer. i didn't get on any of our things, but it was all over the floor, sending an odor of beer to waft around us. her reaction? get another beer.

a few minutes later, i saw one of the young kids in the section next to us spill his soda. when i checked in on him later, he was cleaning up the mess with some napkins. there wasn't much time left in the game, but i did see that he never did get a new soda. unlike the girl who spilled her beer next to us, the kid had to take responsibility for what he did, and deal with the consequences.

while the two (soda kid and beer girl) were drinking different liquids, i think the main difference in their reaction to the situation is the presence of the authority figure. soda kid had to answer to his parents (or whatever adults were watching him). he still believed that adults could punish him and enforce certain rules. beer girl didn't have that--and not just because she was not at the game with her parents. as a twenty-something, your parents can't control you anymore. they can give you advice, but they can't tell you what you should and shouldn't do. they have to hope that you will choose to clean up messes on your own, even when there is no one there to tell you to.

i can't tell you how many times people have told me that my twenties are the time when i will find myself and discover who i truly am. they say it is a time to push limits and think about myself. they say that being a teenager is when you defy authority. that must mean that in your twenties you just ignore it. i do think being in your twenties is a good time to do some soul searching, i just hope i can take time to clean up my beer spills along the way.

friendship

today, i submitted a vacation form at work. i am taking a the first three days of christmas week off (the company gave us the other two) so that i can be home in maine for an entire week. this will be the first time in about six years that i will be spending that much time at home. in the past, i would choose to be away as long as i could. this year, i am choosing to be home for as long as i can.

growing up, i couldn't wait to move away. i had fun in middle school and high school, but i never felt quite like i belonged. i was taller than everyone else, so i always had to slouch to hear people. i could never find pants that were long enough. i once wore and eeyore sweatshirt everyday for a week.

college came like a breath of fresh air. the independence of city living combined with the largeness of the school gave me more confidence than ever. i was able to live on my own and find a group of friends who were totally fun and enjoyed my awkwardness. on top of that, there was none of the pressures of high school. the size of boston university meant that there had to be different groups of friends, but it also meant that my group of friends was really no more or less cool than other groups. they were just...different.

while my confidence soared in boston, when i would go back to maine i still saw myself as the person that i was there, not the person that i had become. since i much preferred the more confident version of myself, i chose to stay in boston more and more. i lost touch with most of the people i hung out with in high school and continued with my boston life.

a year or so ago, i started to realize that there were friends i had growing up that i was starting to miss. there were certain people who were friends with me when i was at my most awkward. all of a sudden, i wanted to share my adult life with them. instead of being afraid that seeing these people would revert me back into my shell, i wanted to hang out with them as myself five years later.

though the beauty of facebook, i was able to get back in touch with some of these people and i will be able to see some of them when i am at home for seven straight days. part of me regrets that i didn't keep in closer contact with some of my friends from maine, but the other part knows that i am happier today because i left. it was only by leaving that i am able to recognize and value the friendships that are still with me today.

one of my favorite quotes growing up was "we do not change as we grow older, we only become more truly ourselves." in constantly peeling away layers of my self, or adding them on depending on how i look at it, i am also able to get a truer sense of what, and who, in my life is important. when i go home for christmas, it will be utterly satisfying to show a truer version of myself to those who have always accepted me, no matter how short my pants were.

christmastime

christmastime is my favorite time of year. it isn't really christmas day that gets me excited, it is the spirit that comes with the weeks between thanksgiving and the new year. i am the person who gets excited for the first holiday display of the year; i am the person who listens to christmas music on thanksgiving day (and many times before that); i am the person who enjoys shopping on a saturday afternoon in december; and i am the person who is constantly lectured to by cynics preaching about how the season comes too early each year, how the spirit of the season has been lost in commercialization, and how it is really a holiday only for children.

this time of year fosters a spirit of collective giving. it doesn't matter why. we give for religious reasons, we give to make others happy, we give to get something in return, and we give because it's just what you do. we give presents to family and friends, we give money and donations to those who are less fortunate, and we give our time to local charities. it's at no other point in the year that we think so much about others and what they need or want. for a few weeks out of the year, it brings on a greater understanding of what we have in common, making differences seem less important.

even with all this giving to others, i am happier with myself than at any other time of year. i love finding the perfect gift for someone. no matter what the cost, a thoughtful gift is one of the best ways to show someone how much i appreciate them. in turn, it makes me appreciate the great people i have in my life. i like donating money to charity around the holidays so that others can have it a little easier. it also gives me time to reflect on how lucky i am in my life. all of the decorations, music and shopping remind me of these things. so when it comes down to it, christmastime just makes me happy.

that is why i love when christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. it's great getting into the spirit of giving a little earlier. in a way, it is silly that this coming together of human empathy only happens for a few weeks out of the year. every year, i think i should try to take the feeling of the season throughout the new year and every year it fades away. but then, a little bit sooner than the year before, holiday decorations go up again.

i also cannot understand those who say that the christmas spirit has become commercialized, because it is not something that is dictated by the major retailers of america. i control my own christmas spirit. i choose to enjoy finding gifts for people, i choose to enjoy hearing the salvation army bells on the street corners, and i choose to keep "yes, virginia there is a santa claus" as my favorite news article of all time. they say that chirstmas is for children when in reality, it is for those who never stopped believing in santa claus.

thanksgiving

when i think of thanksgiving, i think of my uncle. his personality, and his stature, were larger than life and he infused that into everything he did. thanksgiving was the perfect venue for him to gather us together for a day dedicated to family. he was always had a story to tell, and we loved nothing more than listening to how he tracked down the fancy organic turkey, why he was making an apple pie from scratch, or how to use his new electric craving knife.

when i arrived for the big day each year, the group of people was eclectic and always seemed to change a bit from the previous gathering. anyone was welcome and everyone who came was made a part of the family -- no matter what their last name. even though my mom and dad divorced over twenty years ago, she still attends thanksgiving with his family. once the merrill clan gets you, you are there for life.

before the meal, there was always some project for the men to do -- and it usually had to do with my uncle's boat. there was always a chance, if the weather wasn't too cold, that we could go for one last boat ride of the season. then the men would work outside as the women sat inside gazing out through the wall of windows that looked out on the backyard, the dock, and the ocean. we would munch on snacks until we got bored of watching them work and returned to our own conversations.

once we sat down for the meal, my uncle always had a conversation topic that he wanted to bring up. he usually launched into it after we had stuffed ourselves with food but were still sitting around the table waiting for my dad to finish his last plateful of turkey. one year, he wanted to talk about the bird flu. we all scoffed and rolled our eyes. why were we talking about the oversensationalized flu? but as a trustee of a local university, he was worried about what his school had to do to prepare in case of outbreak. so we all thought about it a little more and everyone was encouraged to contribute. i wonder if any of our ideas are being implemented today at that university with the advent of the swine flu.

if christmas represents a spirit, thanksgiving represents ideals. it is accessible to anyone in america who chooses to celebrate. it reminds us of pilgrims who struggled through a long harvest to reap a successful crop. it forces us to think about how the pilgrims treated the natives. it inspires us to treat our neighbors like family. it allows us the opportunity to share passion and work ethic with our best friends. it pushes us to have conversations about things that we might not normally think about. thanksgiving is inclusive, hardworking, and thought-provoking.

when i think of thanksgiving, i think of my uncle.

choices

within the past month and a half, two of my co-workers have given their two weeks notice. resignations happen all the time, but there was something different about these co-workers. i knew victoria first. she was just settling into her cubicle when, on my first day, i found my desk directly across from her's. she had also just graduated and was about a week into her job as an assistant in the media editorial department, while i was starting as an assistant in media production. the other co-worker, sasha, eased her way into my work life. as a new assistant in the new york version of my department, we found many occasions to exchange emails and instant messages.

over the next two and a half years our relationships ebbed and flowed. due to an office reorganization, i moved away from victoria's cube, so our conversations waned. promotions and department reorganizations meant that sasha and i talked about work more and more and our conversations slowly moved from work to life to philosophy. that meant that when sasha texted me to tell me she gave her notice, it was no surprise. we had already had long conversations about the pros and cons of what this move would mean for her career and her life, and how the transition would be easier for her and everyone who worked here if she stayed on to do a little freelance work.

as a freelancer, sasha went into the new york office a week or so after her last day to impart some of her knowledge on to others. i was sent to new york that day to try to suck some of that information back to our department in boston. after a long day of travel and meetings, i returned to penn station and was waiting for my train when i felt a tap on my shoulder. it was victoria, who was also returning to boston after doing some work in the city.

through our three and a half hour train ride, victoria and i caught up on life as well as what was going on on the other side of the office. we shared our love of the company as well as some frustrations, and talked about exactly what we could do about it -- including looking for new jobs. over the next few weeks, victoria dutifully updated me on her progress. so again, it came as no surprise today when victoria gave her notice.

then there is me. i could just as easily have left like the two others did, but i decided to stick it out. i think victoria made a great decision, i know that sasha is thrilled with her new life, and i am happier than i have ever been in my current job. there are differences about our situations, of course, but in the grand scheme of things, we were all given the same opportunity -- an assistant position in a textbook publishing company, and ended up in completely different places.

robert frost writes of taking the road less traveled. he writes:

though as for that the passing there

had worn them really about the same,

and both that morning equally lay

in leaves no step had trodden black

he says that each path was worn the same, so how could he have also taken the road less traveled? his road isn't the single choice to go one way or another. i could have easily gone the way of victoria, and sasha could have easily stayed with the company. instead, it is the combination of choices that each one of us makes to define our lives. when confronted with a choice, we are forced to choose one path or another. it is those choices, those paths, that then make up the road of our lives. my road is less traveled because it is mine and no one else's. it is a poem about how each life is different. it is a poem about how three twenty-something girls could take the same opportunity and end up in three different places.

maine

On Tuesday, Maine had a chance to make history. My home state could have become the first state in the nation to approve same sex marriage by popular vote, rather than legislative or judicial action. Instead of blazing a new trail, though, Mainers voted to stick with the status quo and repeal a law signed by the governor allowing people of the same gender to marry. As someone still registered to vote in Maine and voted to keep the law in tact, I have a mix of emotions. I am disappointed in the voters, I am frustrated with the tactics used by the other side, and I question the legitimacy of a system that allows the majority to vote on the rights of a minority. Through all of these feelings, though, I still love the state that I grew up, and take offense to those who judge us based on this vote.

Maine was a great place to grow up, and I can only appreciate that now that I have moved away. The pace of life is easy, the people are honest and hard working, and the scenery is beautiful in every season. When I lived there, I took the state for granted. Like many teenagers, I thought it was boring. It seemed that nothing exciting ever happened. After I moved to Boston, I started to appreciate the state. Now when I go home, I take one look at the oceans, the mountains, and the forests and realize all that Maine has to offer.

More than anything, though, the best thing about Maine is the people. They live in Maine because they like that life is a little slower and a little prettier than anywhere else. The slowness I mistook as boredom was actually relaxation and contentment. They welcome everyone -- tourists, out of state family members, friends -- with open arms and a lobster dinner. They work hard but know time spent with family is most important. They believe in their own views yet treat everyone with respect. Even though I don't live in Maine any more, there are still the values that I grew up with and shape the way I think. That is why I will always consider myself a Mainer.

While I thought that Mainers would see that upholding gay marriage was a way to treat everyone with respect, it looks like we aren't there yet. Nothing has changed in my love for Maine, though, or its people. Most people I know from Maine who wanted to uphold the law have expressed disappointment with the decision, but very little anger. Those who are happy with the decision are not gloating, just expressing content. The bitter campaign battle (that was heavily influenced by forces outside the state), has caused some in the state to be hateful, and that makes me sad. It is only those "from away" who have added hate into the discussion. They say that Maine "sucks" or that they are "disgusted" with the people. Mainers need to remember what we have in common instead of what separates us. Being from Maine means a lot more than voting yes or no and our history of respecting people who have different opinions should not change with this vote. Instead of focusing on the people of Maine, shouldn't we realize that this could happen in any state? It’s more effective to start figuring out a way to change a society that believes that same-sex marriage is wrong, than to blame the people of Maine for voting.

wisdom

the third molar teeth in the human's mouth are more commonly known as the wisdom teeth. they generally come in between the ages of 17-25 (at least according to the person who updated the wikipedia entry), and gained the nickname because when you get to be that age, you should have some wisdom. i like to think that the two are more intertwined than that, though, and that your wisdom teeth actually help you to gain wisdom, rather than represent a time in life when you have gained wisdom.

everyone these days gets their wisdom teeth out. even my brother, who has never had any dental work other than cleanings (thanks to him getting all the good teeth genes and me getting all of the bad teeth genes) needed to have his wisdom teeth out. nowadays, it is a pretty common procedure. in fact, when i got my teeth taken out earlier this month, i didn't even have to be knocked out with anesthesia. even though two teeth were impacted, i was just given nitrous oxide to calm me down.

listening to 17-25 year olds talk to each other about wisdom teeth shows that it is now a shared experience. someone who is getting the teeth taken out talks to someone who has already had them out and there is a reassuring smile, telling the newbie that it is going to be okay. on the other hand, two wisdom teeth-less people can commiserate about the pain and the swelling while reminiscing about the pain killers and ice cream, because no matter what reassurance you give someone who is getting their teeth taken out, you both know the truth. it sucks. that the pain is bad, you look like a chipmunk, you can't open your mouth all the way, you can only eat things a baby could eat and there are only so many episodes of the new "let's make a deal" that you can watch.

you also know that you get through it, though. after a week, eating food with a fork becomes a big deal, you can open your mouth the whole way, you don't need to take any pain killers to get through the day. then finally, a few weeks later, you realize that you are back to your normal routine. while most things are the same, something is different. there is no longer that dull pain from before when the teeth were coming in. there is a little more room in your mouth for your other teeth, your necessary teeth, to hang out and be happy. after some intense pain and a few weeks to get over it, you realize your mouth is new and improved.

learning from your wisdom teeth that intense pain can lead to healing and growth can put most things that happen between the ages of 17-25 in perspective. you leave home, go to college, graduate college, get your first job, leave your first job. you make friends and leave friends, succeed and fail, and learn how to go on when things aren't going your way. your third molars aren't just nicknamed your wisdom teeth because they arrive at the time when you should be gaining wisdom. they are nicknamed that because they teach you how to find wisdom in otherwise painful life experiences.

unacceptable

this week, i was on a train from boston to new york. leaving at 6:15 and scheduled to get in at 9:45 a.m., it was full of business people traveling for work, much like i was. it was a train trip where everything thing that could go wrong, did go wrong. just outside of new haven, the train broke down due to a computer glitch. after 45 minutes of waiting, it took another 45 minutes to get to new haven because the train needed to go slowly. at new haven, they fixed the problem, though we were already running late. Forty-five minutes outside of new york, the same problem happened again. this time, we had to go back to new haven and switch to a different train there. i didn't get to new york until two o'clock, eight hours after i left.

now, this was a bit annoying. i expected to be on a train for three and a half hours. in the middle of the trip, it was unclear if we would make it at all. when the train conductor announced that we would be switching trains at new haven and getting in around two, i thought there was going to be a mutiny. one woman yelled "this is unacceptable" and a man was discussing how embarrassing it was to have to keep changing the time of his meetings. luckily, i was in a much better mood.

early in the trip, after the train broke down the first time, the man behind me called the people he was meeting to update them on the travel time. now, he was switching trains in new york to go out to new jersey, which was a much longer trip than the rest of us just going to new york. he was also dependent on transferring trains, a stressful proposition when the first one is late. when talking to his colleagues, he was very jovial and making jokes about the situation. after he hung up, the man sitting next to him commented on his attitude. "At least you can laugh about the situation," he said. His laughing seat partner said "What else can you do?"

instead of getting worked up like everyone else on the train, i kept this man's comments in my head throughout the trip. when we had to travel backwards to new haven, i realized how hilarious this situation was. i would have a great story to tell. and when we got our new estimated arrival time of two p.m., i could roll my eyes at those shouting about the unacceptable-ness of the situation. there are many, many things that are unacceptable in this world -- injustice, corruption, and hunger to name a few. thanks to the good mood of the man behind me, i was able to keep my annoying trip in perspective and probably have a much better day than the woman who had an "unacceptable" train ride.

peace

it's ironic. this morning, president barack obama received the nobel peace prize. this afternoon, his supporters and his opponents are bickering about the merits of the prize. did he deserve it? should he have declined it?

the answers to these questions are easy. yes, he deserved it. the nobel peace prize is not awarded by popular vote. it is awarded by a group of people who vote and decide what they think. that group decided that obama deserved this award. they are the only votes that count. and yes, he should have accepted it. it would have been a slap in the face to the international community obama is trying to reconcile with if he had said no. also, from a personal standpoint, it is one of the greatest honors someone could ever receive. there is no way you can say no to that.

why is it, though, that while the international community is rallying around obama, listening to his ideas and wanting to work with him, those in our country seem to see this award as a negative? it could have been a great moment for our country to rally around the president. to take a moment to step outside of our political views, look at the progress the country and the world have made in the past year, and been proud. why is it that we have to have national disasters to rally around each other? why can't we rally around each other in national moments of triumph, when one of our own has done something great for the world?

perspective

I spend most of my day staring at glowing rectangles -- from the computer to the television to my iPod. Working a 9 to 5 office job means more time spent with these glowing rectangles, and the need to step away every once in a while to gain perspective. I choose to do that by writing about random moments in my life. While sitting in my office the other day, I realized that it is two much less flashy rectangles that I gaze at to find inspiration for the perspective I try to achieve.

On my office wall, hung so they are centered above the computer monitor in my eye line, hang two equally sized photographs. On the left, a black frame and white matte surround a bright seascape. It’s low tide at the Bay of Fundy. In the distance a man on horseback trots along the clay beach, almost disappearing behind a red rock cliff topped with trees in the foreground. The edge of the blue-silver ocean starts about half way up the picture, and disappears into the horizon.

On the right, a similarly framed picture sits as it’s opposite. Also taken at the Bay of Fundy, it appears to be close up of the trees that cover the cliff seen in the first picture. This is taken at a different time, though. It is either dawn or dusk in Nova Scotia, and fog has rolled in. The trees show as a dark silhouette; their green color has become a deep, dark blue. The sky behind the trees is a musty gray, as if a rain cloud has descended on that sliver of the world.

Other than the location, the only similarity these pieces share is the photographer. He has been able to take two completely different nature scenes, one full of hope and promise and one steeped in dark and despair, and make beautiful pictures out of each.

My placement when hanging the pictures happened randomly but now, I look to these pictures for guidance, because they represent what I try to do each day. I want to take time to appreciate the beautiful moments in life, and create beauty out of moments that seem less than desirable. The photographer uses pictures to relate this perspective, while I choose to take time to notice these moments through writing.

The photographer did what any great artist does. He unknowingly captured my outlook on life and writing style while teaching me about myself at the same time. I am sure he is used to it, though. After all, he is my father.

perfection

perfection has it's price. the saying is used over and over again. what does it really mean, though? i'm not perfect, so i am not paying any price. my friends and family aren't perfect, so i can't ask them. stella artois claims to be perfect, so you literally have to pay a price for it. but i don't like stella, so i have never paid for perfection. that is, until last sunday.

it was like any other sunday during the fall. i was wearing slippers, eating spinach artichoke dip, and gazing intently at the tv screen. but unlike other sunday's, i was feeling the price. two season's ago, the patriots went undefeated in the regular season, only to loose the superbowl in heartbreaking fashion to the new york giants. they were perfect in the regular season, and almost perfect in the post season. the only way to improve was to maintain the perfect regular season and improve to win the superbowl.

i was finally feeling the price of perfection. instead of looking for the best in a situation, i was only focusing on the worst. the price of perfection comes from comparison to perfection. it means never appreciating the good, and always highlighting the bad. as a person, there is always room for improvement. in perfection, there is only room for decline. a one loss season is a disappointment when comparing to the previous previous season.

the only way to stop paying the price of perfection is to stop comparing to previous success. instead, success and failures should be measured against potential. is it reasonable to expect this patriots team this year to go undefeated? no. therefore, one loss is not a disappointment. one mistake is not a failure. it is a learning experience.

clichés

one of the biggest pieces of advice i have heard to survive the working world, and the world in general, is "don't sweat the small stuff." often, it is amended with "...and it is all small stuff." i understand this sentiment. it is so easy to get caught up in our petty problems and spend too much time worrying about things that are of little to no importance in the grand scheme of things. in practice, though, i prefer to work the opposite way for two reasons.

if i choose to skip caring about small events, i would miss the bits of humor that make work, and life, entertaining. when the office mail guy sent an email out asking if anyone had seen his missing hammer, i could have deleted it without a second thought. instead, i spent a few minutes day dreaming about which co-worker was most likely to steal the hammer--any why. i could have brushed off one co-worker's interest in the timed deodorizer that is in our bathroom instead of spending a few minutes google-ing the TC 9000. i would have missed that this handy device is called the "microburst" and cost upwards of $100. these are not really important events that, at first glance, would be worth my time. but those bits of irreverence are what add up to an enjoyable day.

secondly, if i choose to skip the small events that annoy me, i miss out on any opportunity to grow as a person. it is easiest to see my own personal growth over long periods of time, but the only way that growth is achieved is through small, seemingly unimportant decisions amassed over a period of time. i have an idea of the person that i would like to be. that person is not just going to arrive in a few years. everyday, i have to choose to be that person. when someone sends me a passive aggressive (or just plain aggressive) email, instead of returning the passive aggression, "don't sweat the small stuff" wisdom tells me to blow it off, send a bland response, and move on. instead, wouldn't it be better to take a moment to recognize what the email sender is doing, and choose an appropriate response based on what the person i would like to be would say?

so when it comes down to it, while it's true that it is all small stuff, it turns out that the small stuff is exactly what i want to sweat.

headphones

riding the bus home today, headphones securely in my ears, i zoned out. i thought about the work i left undone, the dinner i was going to make, and the baseball game i planned to watch. it wasn't until halfway through the ride that i realized i couldn't actually hear the music that was playing.

i looked around at the others on the bus wearing headphones, each zoned out in their own way, and wondered if they were using the headphones for their intended use -- listening to music -- or using them for the same reason i was -- to create an illusion of solitude.

living in a city, you are never alone. even when i am at home in my apartment by myself, there are the people on the street outside, or people in the apartment next door watching t.v. everything in a city is a communal experience. when i am walking down the street, riding the bus, or reading a book in the park, distractions are constantly around. i people watch, i eaves drop, i look around for people that i will need to avoid.

wearing headphones is the excuse to stop. it started simply enough. using headphones meant i was listening to music, and therefore it was something to do other than people watch, eaves drop, or be on the look out. somewhere along the way, it became more about avoiding typical city street distractions than about listening to the music.

the headphones do mean that i am tuning out the rest of the world. but it is not to listen to music. if you see me walking down the street, headphones on, eyes glazed over, don't ask me what i am listening to. ask me what i am thinking about. i may say dinner, or baseball, or food. but i may say happiness, or compassion, or minneapolis.

Dear Minneapolis

As a New Englander by birth and at heart, I had no idea what to expect from your Midwest city. I’ll be honest, the main reason I went was because I was going to be in the area in Chicago. I wanted to see baseball played in that glorious Metrodome and thought a couple of days in your city would be more than enough to keep me entertained.

Let me tell you, I was wrong. Friday night, you caught my interest. I ate at the taproom on 8th Street, walked some Skyway, ventured over to Loring Park and the sculpture garden, and meandered back downtown. I didn't have a map, but could find my way around based on loose directions, commonsense, and a well laid-out street plan.

Saturday, I fell in love. I walked a block over to Nicollette Mall and hopped on the bus to the state fair. The helpful bus driver was able to sell me the day pass I had read about online, even though he wasn't quite sure what I was asking for. When I got to the fair, I realized I was in for an experience like no other. I have been to carnivals, I have been to street fairs, I have been to rodeos, and I have been to show rooms, but never before have I seen all of those things in one place at one time. What got me, though, were not the copious amounts of corn dogs, or the alligator that I tried, but rather the character the fair exhibited through its people.

I imagine the first Saturday of the fair is a pretty busy day to go, and I thought it was packed until I heard someone in front of me say "Oh, this isn't bad, you have room to breathe." It was then I knew I was in for a fun day. Everyone in the crowd seemed to have that laid back attitude, which meant we all moved as one, strolling through the fairgrounds, taking in the sights. I saw families, teenage couples, middle-aged friends, and senior couples all have the same look of excitement in their eyes as they turned each corner to behold what came next.

Forty minutes, a bus ride and a clean, efficient light rail trip later, I had made it out to the most intriguing stop I had passed on the light rail coming in from the airport, "Minnehaha Park," and heard someone on the train explain joke I had been thinking in my head, "Try to say Minnehaha without laughing." Back downtown, dinner revealed more charm as the waiter gave me my dessert for free because my traveling companion and I were "so nice." I then made it to the baseball game where I saw a proposal, bear mascot, and, oh yeah, a baseball game.

Sunday morning it was time to go, and I couldn't help but thing of everything I hadn't been able to do. There were museums to see, St. Paul to visit, and the nightlife to explore. Minneapolis, you seem to have it all: a convenient, walkable downtown, cultural excursions and dining galore, and useful mass transit options. But most of all, you have character. You have people you enjoy spending an afternoon crammed together with their fellow Minnesotans, who give free desserts to people who are nice, and who make an outsider feel at home.

So, Minneapolis, in case you take it for granted, I wanted to let you know why I think your city is so great, and I wanted to say thank you, from a New Englander who found a second home in the Midwest.

compassion

today, the convicted lockerbie bomber was released from prison on compassionate grounds. i am pretty disassociated from this, being only 3 when the plane bound for new york was blown up by a bomb placed in a suitcase, killing 270. while the decision has sparked outrage from many, including president obama, it has sparked a very different emotion in me: intrigue.

i am intrigued by a society that considers having compassion for convicted murders. i have always erred on the side of anti-death penalty, without really knowing why. something about killing another person bothers me, but there are so many practical arguments for the death penalty. it is cheaper than keeping someone in prison, and there is always the fear that this person could hurt someone else in prison.

the thing that hit me most about the scottish compassion clause is how much sense it makes. in a civilized society, showing compassion for people who have done the unthinkable is the ultimate forgiveness. the death penalty doesn't make any sense, because it is saying it is wrong for you to kill, but okay for us. showing compassion to the worst criminals is the only way to prove to ourselves what society should be.

america's pastime

growing up in portland, me. meant easy access to baseball games. the AA sea dogs sold out a couple times every season, but i could basically go to live, professional baseball game whenever i wanted--and for cheap. now in boston, i miss that. i live two blocks away from fenway, but on a nice night when i have nothing to do, i sit and watch the game on tv instead of in person. i have attended numerous red sox games, but never had an experience like those relaxing summer evenings in portand until i decided to investigate the mystical red sox day of game tickets.

this did require some planning. a friend and i picked a game we wanted to see a week in advance. some simple legwork on redsox.com yielded the rules. tickets go on sale 2 hours before game time at gate e, fans can line up 5 hours before game time, and your whole party has to be there at the time of purchase because you are immediately escorted into the park.

i went with low expectations. even on a tuesday night against the detroit tigers, this was the red sox after all. we planned to meet a little after 5 in kenmore after we both got out of work and walked up to find the already-formed line past the sausage cart and souvenir vendors on landsdowne street. it moved at a pretty quick pace, and after about 20 minutes we arrived at the box office window. not knowing what kind of tickets to expect, i was shocked to learn that there were three different types available. while we went with the cheapest option ($30 in the right field grandstand), i might come prepared to pay a little more ($90 for infied boxes) in the future.

a friendly ticket taker also acted as usher to explain where our seats were ("a five minute walk that way"), and we took a detour along the way to get some sausages and sodas while taking in the sites along yawkey way. by the time we got to our seats, it was 20 minutes to 7, and almost game time. in the end, the red sox won 7-5, with a bases clearing brawl, three ejections, a one hour rain delay, and two very satisfied ticket buyers along the way.

in our city, baseball games have become an event. you buy tickets months in advance, wait the whole season, and constantly fret about making the most of the one chance you will have at fenway this year. day of game tickets, however, bring boston baseball back to what it should be. last night's game was not an event, but rather a pastime.

goals

from childhood, we are forced into having goals. my answer to the "what do you want to do when you grow up question?" has always been something to do with writing, though it has varied over the years. my answer to "what do you want to be when you grow up?" has remained the same: i want to be happy.

now that i am in the phase of my life where i have to realize my goals, i am having trouble figuring out what it means to be happy. while reading the leon uris book trinity, i stumbled across the following quote from a man discussing the idea of heaven equaling eternal happiness. it sounds good in theory, he supposes, but it could get pretty dull after a while. He continues:

"It seems that we have to have moments of turmoil to contrast to moments of peace in order to truly understand and appreciate that peace....What we have confused is the belief that heaven and paradise are the same. So long as we are capable of moments of paradise here, we ought to cherish them."

life's greatest moments wouldn't be as sweet if there weren't a little despair to juxtapose it against. a happy life does not mean being happy at every single moment. it means that the happy moments - the moments of paradise - more than make up for the moments of despair.

so why is it so hard to come to that conclusion with a job, as well as with life?

when did michael jackson die?

i understand that michael jackson was a cultural icon, and i understand that he death is a tragic end to a life that touched millions. what i don't understand, though, is people my age who are truly upset about his passing.

i like the ABC, i like off the wall and thriller, but the person who recorded those hits was a superstar unknown to my generation. I would say the last of the good Michael Jackson was Bad, in 1987. I was two years old in 1987. Michael Jackson did not shape my cultural landscape at the age of two.

Maybe it was because my parents were more into the Beatles and the Grateful Dead than MJ, but I did not really get him until high school when I head the Off the Wall album. It was then that I first got his songs stuck in my head, and couldn't keep my head from bobbing when I heard the songs. By that time, the man who made those songs and the man living as Michael Jackson were two very different people.

I get that Jackson made a huge impact on recorded music, music videos, and performance. He was no longer influencing the music world to the same extent, though. While his death was tragic, especially as the circumstances surrounding it become more well know, it did not affect me that much. His legacy was all that impacted me before, and nothing about that has changed with his death.

the up side of moving

i am getting ready to move into my 6th apartment since I moved to Boston 6 years ago. there is nothing fun about psychically carrying everything i own down the stairs, into a truck, and up the stairs again. there is nothing fun about spending hours or days getting the logistics of finding a new place and getting to that place figured out. 

what makes it slightly more tolerable, though, are the zen-like realizations that come along with moving. a home is one of the most important things to me. i want a place that i come into and feel relaxed after coming home from wherever i have been. i spend time and energy arranging and rearranging furniture, buying art for the walls, and doing everything possible to make an apartment a home. then, about once a year, i pack it all up and start over. 

it is nice not to be tied to one room, apartment, or neighborhood. it is also nice not to be tied to too many objects, because there is never time to collect too much before i need to move again. then, i have the privilege of seeing everything i own in boxes in the back of a truck. i can see everything i own and realize that it is all just stuff. most of it is stuff that makes me happy, but in the end it is just stuff. 

so while moving is a giant pain in the back, literally, it is also an incredibly cleansing experience. 

which comes first

i have always loved sports. 

let me start that again. 

i have always loved watching sports. my first love was baseball and i gradually moved on to football. these were the two sports that my mom was interested it, so they were easy fits. when i came to college, i finally developed a love of hockey that any good maine girl should have (thanks to live, good college hockey), but still had a hard time watching it on tv. i still believe that, more than any other sport, hockey is best watched in person.  recently, i have started to casually follow the celtics and the bruins as well.

why do i get so into these sports, though? all of the teams i root for have won national championships in the past few years except for the bruins, and they are better this year than i can ever remember. do i just follow them because they are winning? it sure makes it more fun to watch.

but i think there is also a subtler theme. it seems that the more time i have on my hands, the more sports i watch. i guess this makes sense. i have plenty of time now to pick up some hobbies, so why wouldn't i just get more into something that i have been interested in for my entire life? but would i really be watching all of these sports if the teams weren't doing as well as they are?

that, my friends, is one of life's little mysteries. i think for now, i will just enjoy the fact that my friday and sunday nights were incredibly busy because the sox, bruins, and celtics were all playing on the same night.

tis the season

boston is a college town, plain and simple, and i love that about it. there is this vibrancy, idealism, and liberalism that makes the city feel fresh and young. some of the smartest people in the country, and world, work 10 minutes away from my apartment. 

sometimes, all that youngness really makes me feel old, though. may in a college town means graduation. it is a yearly reminder of how far away from that youthful vibrancy i am. now, don't get me wrong. i am 23 years old. that is not old. what is old, though, is my state of mind. i have had a 9-5 (or 6..or 7..) job for the past 2 years. while my idealism is not gone, it is reconciled with the fact that certain things just don't happen in the real world.

graduation is exciting because the opportunities are limitless. you can do anything you want, and be anyone you want to be. the real world, on the other hand, is pretty limiting. you have bills to pay, which means you need a job. from asking around, it is rare that a job actually fulfills the ideals of youth.

there are parts of being in the real world that i love. there is no homework (other than the work you bring home). there is a routine to life. there is more weekend time to hang out with friends rather than study. there is more disposable income. there is vacation time. it would just be a lot easier to appreciate all the good things if those youthful ideals weren't 10 minutes down the road.

Why Blog

it's funny, really. while i work at a textbook publisher (which is not known to be technologically advanced), i work in the media department. i make media related products that we want to sell to instructors for their students to use. i make things that are supposed to use the technology that kids use everyday for personal reasons and translate it to school. yet somehow, no one around me seems convinced of the usefulness of most social networking sites. 

i have a facebook profile, i updated my livejournal pretty steadily throughout college, i recently joined twitter, and now i jumped ship to create my own blog. some common complaints i hear about these sites are that they are narcissistic and egotistical. people tell me it is narcissistic to write 140 characters about what i had for dinner, or egotistical to think that my opinion is so important that it deserves a blog entry about it. but i am not forcing others to read what i say, and i have opinions about everything whether i write it down or not. 

but the biggest criticism of social networking is people who think it can be replaced by a simple telephone call. i have two words for these people: ashley davis. ashley and i met in college and saw each other every single day for two straight years. we were constant in each other's lives. as happens with college friends, though, we went in different directions. while i finished by four years in boston and stayed here after graduation, ashley catapulted a third (and final) year abroad into a life that has take her from england, to new york, to arkansas, and now to sweeden. 

through these travels, ashely and i have talked on the phone and visited in person many times, but it is just impossible for the two of us to talk every day, as we did in college. it is for this reason that i love when ashley tweets about her kickball team winning or posts a picture of her grad school classmates. these are things that i would miss out on if we were not on facebook or twitter. i can read her blog about life in sweeden (who knew milk was so complicated?) and get those little tastes of ashley that i loved having in my life. 

sure, not everyone that i am friends with on facebook is like ashely. there are many people who i took one class with or met at one party, but i would take 100 of those people, whose updates i can just skim past and do not even register on my radar, for one ashley davis.