my hands in my pocket and my head in the clouds

Another Christmas comes and goes, and each year I am shocked when I look at a calendar and realize how close the New Year is. Since the trip to Rhode Island I have felt so amazing. I don't know what it is, and could easily be just a lot of high confidence days. Or, maybe I could really finally be feeling like myself again. Whatever it is...be it related to this year's size smaller Christmas jeans (!!) and camis or a lot of time to sit in coffee shops and think...I'm glad it's happening. I love feeling this way. I feel like I can do anything.

I'm not usually one for New Years' resolutions, mostly because I don't keep them. But...this last half of 2007 was pretty terrible, and I think that saying 2008 will be drama free if it kills me is a sure-fire way to guarantee the amazing semester that I feel coming. So...I guess that's a resolution of sorts.

I also want to do something spontaneous and dumb...or a few spontaneous dumb things, just to say I did.

There's something about Harford County. It's like a black hole. People just stay here...or are glad to come back...and I don't understand it. When I come home I'm always afraid that I will fall back into the girl I was in high school and lost all of the passions that I had about life...about making a difference. It's honestly very scary. I guess it's okay for some...if you want to raise a family here, it's a good idea...and close to places to work. But...it lacks an appreciation for arts and for culture...and an appreciation for people who want to explore what is beyond the confines of this northern Maryland town.

But...my family is indeed always amazing and the Christmas celebration was quite perfect. A quiet day with the family, and an evening at a family friends' house with a very nice bar.

*sigh* Ok...2008...bring it.

Someday, I want to celebrate the new year in the very first place that the new year hits...did that make sense? Where is that?

merry christmas

Merry Christmas, readers. I hope that everything the season is supposed to bring you is brought, be it in a package, through prayer or in the arms of family and friends...or all three of those things and more.

To me, the meaning of Christmas lies in the end of Linus' speech from the Gospel of Luke.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:
"Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth, peace, goodwill toward men."
-Luke 2:13-14-

But, Christmas, like everything else, is in the eye of the beholder.

As my great grandmother would have said: Merry, Merry, everyone!

Oh, and in the spirit of giving and reaching out to the rest of the world check out www.freerice.com Expand your vocabulary while donating rice to countries in need through the United Nations. Each question you answer right donates 20 grains of rice to the United Nations' effort to end world hunger. You can play for as long as you like, donating as much as you can...and it also helps fight illiteracy. Pretty cool, huh?

Peace

on selling myself short

Maybe I should have evaluated Shepherd's Masters of Arts in Teaching program earlier. Then, maybe I wouldn't have put all of my eggs in the living in town basket as soon as I did.

I did the research last night...and there's no way I could possibly apply for the MAT program for the fall semester. I need to take and pass the PRAXIS I and II, and have 50% of my coursework finished for my concentration area. I don't even know what the hell that last part means.

So...that's out, and I'm faced with yet again a decision.

Mom suggested I take some English classes at Shepherd in the fall, and take the PRAXIS I and II this semester and over the summer and in the fall, and apply for the program starting spring 2009. I could live in Shepherdstown, as planned, work someplace, as planned, and only lose one semester in preparation for my MAT. This is a perfectly safe, logical plan for my life.

Shepherdstown. Shepherdstown is safe. I know the town, the people in the shops. I know that I can sit at the Lost Dog for an hour or two and someone I know will wander in and say hello. I know I can go on a long walk and sit at the monument and read if I get frustrated or stressed. I know I can walk into one of the apartment buildings, or to West Woods or any of the traditional halls and find someone to watch TV with or talk to. I know I fit in there, and I know I am comfortable there. I know I'm safe.

I've always been safe. I'm everything a well brought up white middle class girl from suburban Maryland should be. I was rarely absent in high school, played in the marching band and acted in the school plays. I graduated on a sunny day in June and spent my last summer at home working with a community theatre. I went to college in the fall. Had a boyfriend there and liberated myself from him when I joined a fraternity that spring. I don't skip classes, only drink on the weekends, I do my homework and I'll graduate from college in four years. I make my parents proud. This all is expected of me.

Maybe the fact that all of my ideas of what my future should be have fallen through means I should disregard safety. Maybe, staying in Shepherdstown and staying in school is selling myself short of everything I could accomplish. Maybe I should stop deleting e-mails from CISabroad.com, and look into that abroad internship again. Maybe I should just do what I want to do next year: see the world...meet people...experience life. What good is a journalist that never experienced her own life? How can I write about someone else's fabulous life without writing a few stories of my own?

I should just come clean with myself...I don't want to be safe anymore. I don't want to go straight into a career and wake up on my 40th birthday and realize that I've been sleeping my entire life.

I'm back to square one...I don't want to be afraid of the next step.

Peace in the Middle East

misadventure

We landed safely in Rhode Island this morning, and I am happy to say that I have, in this past year, out grown my fear of flying. This is a good thing. This is a very good thing. In fact, I would not have panicked at all had the landing not come out of nowhere and feel like we suddenly dropped out of the sky. The strange man next to me was reading my "Rolling Stone" over my shoulder and commented that "Rockstar" by Nickelback should have been higher on this list of 100 best songs than 100. "It was actually a GOOD song," he insisted.

I laughed uncomfortably and retrieved my personal items from under the seat in front of me.

We went to a French cafe in Providence for lunch. At the end of our meal this French waiter who reminded me of a French version of Domenico from "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" came to our table with my mom's left overs wrapped in tin foil shaped like a dog. We started talking to him because the dog was absolutely adorable. He said he was from Paris and he married an American woman and came to the United States to be with her, but they want to go back to Paris.

My dad told him I want to go to Europe, and the French man said:

"Go. Let her go, and if she doesn't want to come back, let her stay. There is nothing wrong with this country. This is a wonderful country, but they only care about money. Go there, and you can just spend time with people building relationships with people for not a lot of money. Money is important, but other things are too. Go, promise me you'll go."

I think that little French man may have changed my life. Funny...how things start fitting together exactly when you need them to...

Peace

i'm too sweet for rock and roll

Alas, I've felt every emotion that poor boy feels throughout all of 'Almost Famous.' There's a lot standing up against me as a journalist...and a music journalist at that. I'm not aggressive by any means. I'm also not male, like most rock journalists...and sad to say, a lot of people still don't take women seriously.

But...I'm passionate. More than anything else, I have passion. And I have my old 'Rolling Stones' and I can flip through them and think to myself, 'I wish i wrote that.' I can imagine my byline there. I'm willing to learn. You don't have to be an expert on a band to write about them. William Miller wasn't a Stillwater expert...he just loved what he was doing. And I do love what I do...or at least have the potential to do.

And, once I finish doing all that...I'll teach it to the kids like me...or even while I'm doing it, I'll teach it to them. I've never been that stand-out student that is amazing at everything. No one ever really notices anything I do. But...critics and supporters alike will tell you that I love what I do.

And...sure thing, I'm too sweet for rock and roll...but, I'm okay with that.

"We take all kinds of pills to get all kinds of thrills but the thrills we've never known is the thrill that will hit ya when you get you're picture on the cover of the Rolling Stone..."

Just a thought...it's been bugging me.

sometimes i drive or ride with my eyes closed tight...

This song came over shuffle while I was making myself presentable for the people in this small town today:

Skyline Drive - Mae
Sometimes I run, but I'm not afraid.
Why must you bring up all the mistakes I've made?
She makes me smile, but you come around.
The wind in her hair reflects the sunset I see.

You make it seem like it was yesterday.
But we've come a long way out of the rain.
Can't seem to figure out what happens after this.
Why can't I?

Why must you say I made a mess out of things?
I won't believe it.
Tonight feels right like I'm dancing on air.
I'll make it right, I'll make it right.
Pull over to the station and fill up on fuel.
And what will I do?

Sometimes I drive or ride with my eyes closed tight
because if the skyline looks this way
then I don't want to sleep tonight.
Never giving up, always seeking light,
we must always try, try with all our might.

So, as I'm getting ready, I thought about this. I've had a lot to think about since Friday, quite frankly. I've been told I need to think more, like a little child. This upsets me, as much as I know it's true and as much as I hate to admit I'm wrong. So, this afternoon before I had a coffee with Laura, I went for a drive through all the familiar back roads that served as my therapist between the ages of 16 and 18. And I put in a new CD that made me happy and I sang and I thought.

This semester has been the most difficult semester I've had since I've been at Shepherd. Not only academically, but emotionally. Two production classes as time consuming as single cam and animation with an internship was probably a terrible idea, but my writing grew and I definitely developed a love affair with film, tedious as it may be. But, academically speaking it was one of my best...I can boast a 3.4 GPA, which I was impressed by considering all of my less than productive nights spent pacing Birch and crying.

That makes me sound pathetic, but I think that's the only way I can describe it. Emotionally, I hit an all time low this fall. Never have I ever felt this out of control of how I felt, but that started in the summer - it just continued. It's frustrating, expecting something to go away once your back and in the place where you thrive the most, but to have it only get worse and to knock you out for complete evenings, or worse, afternoons. I felt like there was nothing I can do, and for certain, Rhonda helped me out of a pretty bad position and I'm better now. I don't sleep as much, but, sleepytime tea provides me with the coma I need. I've never cried so much...ever. I'm typically not a crier. I'm typically not dependent. I'm typically not a huge bitch. But, then again, I'm typically not a lot of things I was this semester.

I value my friends more than anything else in the world. Especially some of the friendships that were made stronger this semester. I suppose...a situation that probably should have been avoided for my own personal health couldn't have been. I wasn't willing to give up all of those late nights and bad TV, but maybe I should have?

That doesn't seem fair to me...or to them...or to anyone, but maybe it would have made things easier.

I miss last spring...when things were happy and fresh. I need to change a few things, or I'm never going to be able to feel that again.

So...here's to a new plan for 2008. A plan that doesn't involve drama and feeling through my tear ducts. Here's to simply living and soaking in each moment. To writing and reading and learning. And adventures. And everything I possibly can. And not letting it get to me...and to a new romance, perhaps...or new friends. And simply to love. Because, love is the only thing that keeps us going...and I believe that more than anything. And here's to sticking with my faith in God, and listening to Him and going in the direction He points me for once.

But, mostly...to love. And focus and concentration.

No more hate and animosity.

(If that didn't make sense, it wasn't meant to...and now on to your regularly scheduled program.)

I bought myself a Scissor Sisters CD today...and I dig it to death already.

Peace in the Middle East

it's finally here!

Oh, winter break...how I love you. Oh, how I've needed you in my life. Oh, and hellO Gingerbread Latte!

I arrived home this evening after a day of looking for Christmas gifts in town and getting locked out of my room (which I also got locked out last night) and packing my things up. I did some more Christmas shopping since the weather that never came cancelled caroling.

I'm home and my life needs a serious evaluation. I feel like I've been on a downward spiral since last summer...and I'm fixing it.

Ubermensch

Ladies and gentlemen...my YouTube premier as a filmmaker. Ubermensch is about a guy who thinks he's a superhero...but isn't. He thinks he has an arch nemesis and everything. It makes for an awkward situation...

Enjoy.

women of the world, raise your right hand...

I love this ad campaign. I wish the right hand ring fad hadn't ended so suddenly.

I wish my friends would stop getting engaged and expecting a dramatic "OMGZ!!" sort of response. It's not my scene...I can't even imagine what it would be like to have to just call someone by fiance for years and years on end. I guess my whole thing is, I think a fiance is a fancy boyfriend. I think most women get engaged to get a ring and get that extra choke hold on their poor boyfriend. It's sad. I thought we were supposed to be raised to be stronger than that. I don't even see the point of engagement, unless it's to just play married. We do that in elementary school.

So, future husband, if you're reading this...I don't want to be engaged for more than 11 months. I think it's stupid. I think it all is. Or, I'm just bitter.

I've been in the comm. lab since 5:00 today. I'm leaving as soon as my animation clip finishes rendering for the night. It's cold and dreary and it makes me sad.

BUT! The film is done and it looks really good. I'll be posted on YouTube asap!

Single,
BT

the nights that turn into mornings

Check it:

Welcome to finals week. The most distracted finals week of my entire scholastic career. It's not even that I have senioritis because there is no way in HELL I would trade any of this lifestyle for a real 9-5 and a salary. Eff that. College is amazing, and no one can convince me otherwise...

Which is exactly why I'll make it out of this mess with more student loans and degrees than any reasonable person should have. I decided this in the car today on the way to my internship. Step two after Shepherd is becoming more and more real and I'm becoming more and more resistant. Thought process number 4858793.9 tells me that I need to apply to Shepherd's Masters of Arts in Teaching program for the fall, get my teaching certification while working at a paper somewhere around here, living in an apartment on adorable German street and THEN going on to something intense and amazing like an M.A in Arts Journalism from Syracuse. From which I will write for Rolling Stone and then get my PhD., insist my students call me Dr. BT...and spend the rest of my days writing freelance and teaching college. I called mom to tell her when I was psyching myself up for internship stuff, and she approved!

That's not what this was supposed to be about.

What should I be doing right now? Writing my enterprise story on student internships and studying AP style for my exam tomorrow.

What AM I doing? Rocking out to "Catch Hell Blues" by The White Stripes with my sound-proof headphones because Alicia is watching "The Hills" and "The Hills" makes my IQ drop. Oh and blogging. Dork. Oh my God...I want to see the White Stripes live again! That was the most incredible and only positive experience I had on George Mason's campus.

I don't understand finals week. Honestly? Not having my exam until 12 tomorrow is seriously one of the reasons I went over to hang out with the boys next door and then over to my little's place. Everyone on this damn campus is drinking. Finals are NOT good, but, that goes along with my standardized test rant. It would be even more justified if I had slept this weekend. Instead, I stayed up all night watching the weather for SAI stuff Friday night, slept two hours and then drank until 3 on Saturday. BUT! We got busted by the cops! That's the first time in my life I've ever felt cool, even if he DID bust 20 idiots singing "I Like Big Butts" at the top of their lungs. Oh, and then there was the Border's experience.

Internship today was another one of those awkward days where I walked around Hagerstown Centre and asked people uncomfortable questions. Only, this time it wasn't about Daylight Savings, it was about holiday shopping. Front page material yet again fo sho. The shopping center DOES have a new Chipotle, though...and that my friends, is amazing. My last day there is Friday. Tragically.

Crap...12:25, this story and my exam are in less than 12 hours.

COFFEE? OOO! Grateful Dead.

Oh...and...has everyone seen the video footage of the long-eared jerboa?! He's ADORABLE!

Peace in the Middle East

my socks are wet

It's snowing in Shepherdstown, which means people suddenly forget how to function as normal human beings, and by the end of the day and three changes of socks later it makes me angry. i guess the weather has me bummin' because i really don't have time for it.

I prefer my snow days be spent under a big quilt in front of the tv or with books. I'd really rather not venture out since I only wear clogs in the spring and I don't like wet socks. Like right now...

The only issue with this is the fact that I should be in the lab working on my animation and my film for finals next week. But I'm not there because Shepherd closed at 4:00 and with the closing went the lab. I'm a bit nervous that they won't be finished in time for the presentations next week...and by a little nervous I mean a lot.

Ok, I have another issue with it as well. I didn't get to go into my internship today. I called in to see how the roads were in Hagerstown and one of the editors said not to chance it. This made me sad. I only have two days left there next week, and I really don't want to leave. My writing has grown so much since I've been there, and I am indeed more confident in my interviews. It's just generally a really good environment for me, which is so great.

I really don't like 'Hogan Knows Best.'

I can't even see the light at the end of the scholastic tunnel...not even a little bit.

White Trash Bash on Saturday, though! Woo!

dear diary.

i am bethany anne tremblay. the first of my blood family to go protestant and be raised outside of new england. the first to live at an undergraduate institution and the first to be given more than most people ever should be given.

i judge my friends based on what they call me...be it tremblay, tremmy, trem or bt...i know they know me best. the people that are only beginning to know me call me bethany. i get upset if i'm not called by one of these nicknames by whom i believe to be the closest people to me.

i fall in love quickly, and i've never been in love. by love, i mean, i care...i care more than most people. i can honestly say i love all of my friends. i want to write for rolling stone, even though most people think it sucks now. but really, that's a reflection of the popular culture we live in. i love reality television, but i rarely get into sit coms. i watch 'a shot at love with tila tequila' and 'i love new york 2' because it makes me feel a little bit better. i sleep under thousands of blankets.

i have a thing for british men, and the best way to insult me is to suggest i don't understand their humor.

i write...that's all i want to do. writing, the power of words and books make me happier than most things in this world.
and some day...i will be dr. tremblay...or bethany anne tremblay...phd. i wish it was lucritive to be a professional student.

and, i love to drink coffee, tea and kahlua. but not all at once.

it's the most...UGH

I don't like this part of the semester. No, not one bit. The only actual motivation I have is to decorate my apartment for Christmas. Unfortunately, light up candycanes and twinkle lights don't improve GPAs.

Someone hit the fast forward button.

I want to go to Europe...but I also want to go to sleep. So I'm picking sleep, and we'll talk about Europe tomorrow.

Peace

white collar boy...and other woes

Ladies and gentlemen, Belle & Sebastian's "White Collar Boy." Pedro got me into them over the summer (don't be shocked...five mix CDs later and my knowledge of slightly more current music is significantly improved and I credit him with that) and this is my favorite song of theirs that he put on my collection of mix CDs. They're from Scotland, and that's all I've gathered so far, but hopefully Santa can bring me some iTunes cards so I can get some new music on my compy. Enjoy...I really think they're great.

That video, my friends is in celebration of my finally getting the smarts to sync my Blogger with my YouTube account using Firefox, and not Safari. Good job. I don't know why the whole world is so anti-Safari. The PC world can't be hatin' on us Mac users forever, you know. Safari is just as safe as *cringe* Internet Explorer...but I do admit, Firefox trumps, but doesn't look as neat on my computer. And...I go for the asthetically pleasing about 98% of the time. That, and I think I'm better that most people because I use a Mac. No matter. I don't hate on the PC world too often, just when Safari doesn't work because people are hatin' on my happy little Mac world.

Anyway, Thanksgiving? Oh, quite nice indeed. Could have been longer, that's all I could ask for. All my priviledged friends are finally back from their galavants across Europe and Asia, so I got to catch up with people that I hadn't seen in almost a year.

In keeping with the theme of the poor little White Collar Boy we just learned about...it's the last three weeks of the semester. I think I was in denial about this minor detail that has an awful lot to do with my life because I definitely tried to convince myself that staying home would make all the final projects and articles and portfolios go away. It didn't though. Here we go...the rest of this semester cannot possibly go well.

The water in this town is not fit to drink...but, they didn't tell me that when I had a huge cup of it with a Tylenol this morning. I didn't find out until I got to the newspaper in HAGERSTOWN that the water was on boil-before-drinking advisory in SHEPHERDSTOWN. When I got back to change before my night class, there was an ambiguous sign on the door that said DO NOT DRINK and in smaller letters WATER IS CONTAMINATED. I just hope that when the water is clear again the ambiguous sign doesn't say DRINK...or they'll have more drunk children than usual on their hands. Regardless, it's either paranoia or water disease that's left me quite lethargic all day.

But! We're FINALLY starting filming for mine and Jackie's movie for Single Cam. If it's wonderful (which, it should be now that we have a tripod), then you might be lucky enough to see it posted on this here blog.

Is my longest paragrah in this entry about Internet? ...Oh dear God. I need Christmas vacation.

Speaking of, some crazy lady at Macy's attacked me on Black Friday asking if I wanted to work there for the holidays. When I told her I'd be in Rhode Island for four days, she got an attitude with me and said that schedule would simply NOT work with her's. She asked me to work...people...

Stay tuned for the 12 Pains of Christmas, and other stories of holiday goodness.

Peace in the Middle East.

commuting thoughts part two

Well, it's been a strange week. The one thing I can say is I wasn't bored. My editor let me go an hour early because I was finished with my stories and because it was Thanksgiving. I wanted to wrap something up and she walked by my desk du jour and said, "why are you still here? Go see your family!" That was nice to hear. I did some pretty amazing interviews this week...I've learned so much from this paper...and I'm definitely more outgoing with my writing and interviewing. I really love this job!

I got back to the apartment to no water. This isn't a surprise to any Shepherd students. A water main breaks at least twice a year. It didn't bother me too much, since I got to leave. I stopped at the Starbucks in Frederick on 40 and was on my way...rocking out to some Christmas tunes. "Run, Run, Rudolph" was the soundtrack to my arrival on 695. How approriate. But, if you know me, then you know that sort of thing happens on a regular basis for me. Wes Anderson is collaborating with Baz Luhrmann, and they're directing my life..."Truman Show" style. It's a bizarre, trippy, disconnected flick, with a pretty incredible soundtrack.

I want to travel..run off to New York, even better, Europe. I suppose the San Francisco trip in March with the English department will be a nice start, though...seeing Haight-Ashbury will be like visiting Mecca...to me at least. That, and City Lights bookstore. (Nerd alert!) Someday, I'll get out. I guess.

Happy Thanksgiving, folks...I had more to say but I started typing, and for once I'm actually sleepy. :) I'm thankful for that.

Enjoy your turkey...tofurkey...or whatever you'll be eating tomorrow. Most importantly, enjoy your family and friends. (and pumpkin pie!)

Oh, and if you're like me and braving black Friday...don't get arrested. :)

Peace

Oh, and one more thing...

Don't tell me this isn't the most amazing YouTube video you have ever seen in your life:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkzRNpU2_nA

It'd be cooler if YouTube would let me add this blog to my account. Whatev.

These children are better at 'Cranking That'...(that MIGHT be the official verb, I'm not sure) than me. In my defense, I don't have springs for legs and learned once while sitting in the stands at a football game and the second time intoxicated. Still..it's a good time for all.

Oh, and...I got back from work today to find that my toilet is broken. That's good. I mean, it's fine...I just have to manually pull the chain up, since the thing that attaches the chain to the lever broke off. It's not terribly trashy to stick my hand in the tank every time I need to go to the bathroom. I processed a work order with the RA, she said it might not be fixed this week. That's fine, it's a just toilet. It's nothing necessary to my life or anything. That's only part of my sketchy day of propositions and almost getting shot in Martinsburg.

I'm really peacing this time.

sketchy

Today was the sketchiest day of my entire life. No, really. I wrote this post yesterday, but Panera's wireless internet wouldn't let me publish. Internet is back now. One interview and the wrap up of my three evergreen stories tomorrow. Then I get off at 5, I'll come back, pack...put my fish in some sort of travel container and finally head home for a tryptophan coma and Thanksgiving.

Sketchily yours (but alive),
BT

Lyrics of the moment:

"Ghost of Corporate Future" - Regina Spektor
A man walks out of his apartment,
It is raining, he's got no umbrella
He starts running beneath the awnings,
Trying to save his suit,
Trying to save his suit.
Trying to dry, and to dry, and to dry but no good

When he gets to the crowded subway platform,
He takes off both of his shoes
He steps right into somebody's fat loogie
And everyone who sees him says, "Ew."
Everyone who sees him says, "Ew."

But he doesn't care,
'Cause last night he got a visit from the
Ghost of Corporate Future
The ghost said, "Take off both your shoes
Whatever chances you get
Especially when they're wet."

He also said,
"Imagine you go away
On a business trip one day
And when you come back home,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan."

"And people make you nervous
You'd think the world is ending,
And everybody's features have somehow started blending
And everything is plastic,
And everyone's sarcastic,
And all your food is frozen,
It needs to be defrosted."

"You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now.
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now."

"Well maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee,
And never ever watch the ten o'clock news,
Maybe you should kiss someone nice,
Or lick a rock,
Or both."

"Maybe you should cut your own hair
'Cause that can be so funny
It doesn't cost any money
And it always grows back
Hair grows even after you're dead"

"And people are just people,
They shouldn't make you nervous.
The world is everlasting,
It's coming and it's going.
If you don't toss your plastic,
The streets won't be so plastic.
And if you kiss somebody,
Then both of you'll get practice."

"The world is everlasting
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
And take off both your shoes.
'Cause people are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you.
People are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you."

The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
It's coming and it's going

My ex-boyfriend, Pedro, turned me on to this song over the summer. (Does that sound funny?) The song couldn't have entered my life at a better time. With the exception of moaning wives, I feel like the poor man in this song whenever I have to enter a real-world job situation. I was battling a 9-5 in a world I wasn't soo sure I was fond of. I learned how much I really need people and how bad my undiagnosed ADD really is. The song came back today, as I completed another 9-5 in an environment I think I like. Regardless, 9-5 is a long time to sit in front of a desk, but at least I know that as a real reporter, I won't just sit, I'll get to do things. I think a lot of the sitting and a lot of the idle time comes with being an intern, and having people doubt what you can really do without that fancy peice of paper with, of all things, a B.S. label on it.

I wasn't cut out for the life that the other interns I worked with over the summer want...I'm not cut out to do the same thing over and over again. That's the greatest part about reporters...they're an expert about something new every day, even if it's a beat.

The paper's editor came over to my cubby hole du jour and congratulated me on having the video of the week last week. Yes...my little video of the Publisher's Clearinghouse winner was the "video of the week." I'm sure that means nothing, but to me, it means everything. One of the reporters said my video was "cute" because I was being pushed to the back but kept fighting my way forward. That's actually how I want all of my work to be viewed, it was a huge ego boost. The people at the paper, the nature of the work, make me feel like I'll actually go somewhere with this. And, when the time and education is there...I can leave 9-5 (because, it's the hours I don't like) and live happily ever after teaching college.

It's a good plan.

It is Monday, and on Monday I am thankful for my new coffee mug, free wireless Internet at Panera and meeting Marie at the Daily Grind in Martinsburg for an hour and a half. Oh, and that same orange hoodie I was thankful for on Saturday.

I drive through Shepherdstown tonight, thinking about everything that this place has brought me. McMurran is decorated for Christmas, as are most of the little shops. I pass the brothers' old house and think about the number of times I've stumbled down that hill and insisted that I just had a bad sense of balance. I think about how strange it will be to be a real person and come back to Shepherdstown to visit the myth that it is. And then, I pray that it will suck me into the black hole that it is and I can stay there, writing at the Lost Dog and drinking espresso for the rest of my life.

It's a better plan.

I think the staff of Panera is signaling for me to leave. I think they're closing. Regardless...no internet at Birch, so it's Garage Band for some film soundtracking and probably a movie or six for this budding reporter/videographer combo pack.

*sigh*

Oh, and one more thing...

Would you like to say something before you leave
Perhaps you'd care to state exactly how you feel
We said goodbye before we've said hello
I hardly even like you, I shouldn't care at all
We met just six hours ago, the music was too loud
From your bed I gained a day and lost a bloody year
And I would like to know

How do you feel? How do you feel, how?
How do you feel? How do you feel, how?

Thanks Pink Floyd...

initiate holiday season, now...

Here I am. In Shepherdstown for the next few days while the rest of the world is on Thanksgiving break. I'll be working Monday-Wednesday 9-5. (I think I might be a professional intern..) I have the apartment to myself.

Here, I have everything I need. Complete access to the living room so I can move my lap top to the couch. Enough coffee and hot cocoa to feed a small nation, knitting, my great orange hoodie. I also have "This is Spinal Tap" and a Wes Anderson movie marathon. Yes...this girl is in love. The lack of people on campus is completely lame...and when we lose internet Monday-Tuesday in the dorms, I may actually maintain some sort of post-work productivity. I get to go home Wednesday night and bake a pie. It'll be great. It'd be even better if it wasn't so cold in my apartment right now.

I made a Christmas tree out of wrapping paper that almost spans floor to ceiling on my wall. If they gave me anough time on this campus, I might wrap the entire thing.

All things are as they should be. We had the big family dinner in Maple...a good bunch of us. They pulled the coffee tables from some peoples rooms and made a long table in the hallway. There was turkey and potatoes...enough food so everyone could eat until they felt like they were going to vomit. And dessert...so much dessert. It was fun. We bought the thanksgiving dinners for the two families we are sponsoring through the fraternity and then Katie and I spent the rest of Friday drinking apple cider and rum while watching 'RENT.' To top off the perfect weekend, we went to Frederick for Chipotle and Starbucks. The holiday season was kicked off with the first venti Gingerbread Latte. Best friend got engaged. Life as normal.

Oh, wait, what? Engagement?

Yes. Engagement. It made me feel old. I mean, sure, Heather is married, but she's been married for a while. Michelle and I are a bit closer...and she's engaged. Honestly. Mom says this stuff is going to start happening quite frequently. I don't want it to. Life was simpler when I was 10. It's just difficult to wrap my brain around the engagement and potential marriage of friends when I can hang out with several boys on a regular basis but not get a date.

With a life expectancy somewhere between 78 and 80...21 is a blip on the radar, and forever is a really long time. I like Chuck Klosterman's theory on the lack of monogamy in this country...one of his reasons (along with the other REAL sociological reasons why people don't stay married) is that...forever is distcintly longer than it was in 1920. So he's a rock/pop culture critic and not a sociologist...but it makes sense. I'M STILL A LITTLE KID, DAMNIT.

This is why I'm watching Wes Anderson movies this weekend. His detachment from his subjects is hilarious and something I strive for more of...that...and the hilarity of it all.

*sigh*

I'm going to hide under my quilt and build a time machine back to 1997...

check it. i can't sleep

The past two weeks I have been awake. Constantly. Honestly. Always awake, except during the day when I need to be awake. Peak crash time is around 2 or 3...which are important times if you're a normal, functioning person. I almost fell asleep during the Holst suite at tonight's concert simply because I wasn't playing, only to be awake after returning from the Press Room and watching TV with the boys next door.

It seems that each night, I can't turn off my brain and I get some crazy second wind around midnight or one. I've cut off caffeine after 9, but that doesn't seem to be the issue...I just...think about things.

You know, important things like...why is there always loose change in my bed? Why do the flourescent lights in public buildings and dorms suck so much? Why is every drink containing alcohol that I consume "surprisingly strong?" Does everyone know? What happens after May 17? Why is sleepytime tea the most delicious herbal concoction known to humankind? Why is Warren Zevon so weird? Should I really talk to my doctor about Lunesta? and Why is "Fighting in a Sack" by The Shins the single greatest song to wake up to in the morning?

It's getting old. Twice this week, I was up until 5...finished with work, just wanting people to hang out with. All the reasonable people of the world were sleeping. Lame. I'm trying now to sit in an uncluttered room, sip on some tea and start winding my brain down. I have a hand-written, distinctly more private journal and a really good book waiting for me in my bed.

You know...people give me shit about not wanting to leave Shepherdstown. Nights like tonight, though, draw me back here and make me wish I can be like the other college kids that get sucked into the blackhole of Shepherdstown, W.Va. forever.

Our Wind Symphony concert was tonight. My second to last. Which is sad. It was the student conductor's concert...and Neena closed. I don't know if the little glisten in my eye was out of pride for her rockin' out on the "Emperata" or for one of the last times I'll be in that sort of playing situation. It was a good show...

Afterwards, I went out to the Press Room with a nice group of people. I drank and felt silly. Those drinks were surprisingly and overwhelmingly strong. It was a classy evening with good company in a place where people pretend they know you and treat you like you are great friends. And, when you leave the restaurant, you can just jet across the street, knowing the cars will stop, about 95% of the time, even if you aren't in a cross walk.

It's nice here...and I love it.

Thanksgiving is soon. Break starts tomorrow, but after a weekend of Chipotle and Starbucks dates in Frederick I have to give three 9 to 5's to the Herald-Mail and just hang out here. I'll try to get the soundtracking for my single cam and animation projects banged out on Garage Band and get on that Enterprise story....since the campus will be dead. It's all right though. Home on Wednesday, tryptophan on Thursday, shopping on Friday and Denny's on Saturday.

It'll be okay.

But...damnit...I WANT TO SLEEP. Those Lunesta commericals are really soothing at 3:30 a.m. They picked a good time to advertise...and a cheap timeslot.

Peace in the Middle East

commuting thoughts

The car is prime thinking time for this one. I almost never write down what I think about when I'm driving, but I should. I'm sure it lacks profundity, but I get enough of that in my creative writing class. Which I am definitely not deep enough for. I'm pretty sure people "get" me. My creative writing class is another entry in and of itself though.

Tis the holiday season. I'm one of the few people in the world that doesn't mind seeing Christmas cheer up in the early weeks of November. Simply because it brings out a slightly more humane side of humanity. Unless you're shopping, then it doesn't XM 103 started their Holly station. I couldn't be happier.

The holidaze also bring me home for a wrinkle in time. I typically dread going home, simply because I have noting to do but lull around the house and try and make small talk with people I haven't seen in years.

It brings long chats with parents, and the latest topic for that is what I'm going to do with my life. I don't like that question, I should hope I have at LEAST 40 years to decide that, if not more with modern medicine. Since the decision to take a year off and do stuff before jumping into grad school, the Tremblay elder's have been questioning my actually going back to school.

I don't they they realize that I adore school, it's being employed that I really can't wrap my brain around. And some day, I do hope to be Dr. Bethany Tremblay-(hopefully I'll add some other last name to the end of that hyphen...) with a college classroom of my own. A year off could be what I need to get over some test anxiety, improve some GRE scores and experience a little bit more before I add an M.A. to my things to do list. It's a good idea. I'll go back.

I also thought about how much I dig the White Stripes. I went to a LOT of concerts this summer (most of them free-thanks Wolf Trap!) and the White Stripes concert was the only one I paid for, and I'd pay for it all over again.

Now, I'm definitely a small club-bar concert sort of girl. Nothing screams rock and roll like smoke and the smell of stale beer. But, the White Stripes concert was at the Patriot Center at George Mason (and I'd never repeat living THERE, ick). My ex-boyfriend and I had seats at basically the top of the stadium, and the entire time I was afraid I'd fall. The White Stripes themselves were quite tiny, but the stage show they put on was huge. The stage was simple, but blown up by lights, and Meg White is just fabulously wonderful to watch play. Jack is, too, don't get me wrong, but there's something delightfully perky about Meg.

I just got into them over the summer, because of aforementioned ex-boyfriend...but...I dig them. I'm no expert, but when I'm driving and can yelp out a line "I even love it when you're fakin' it..." I'd be hardpressed to say that doesn't make up a euphoric moment. Will observing things like this make me a decent rock reporter? ...No? Ok.

Um...I think that's it for this moment. Just some thoughts for today.

And, damnit, I'm going to get better about posting in here.

Peace in the Middle East

on religion

I've wrestled with religion all my life. I've wrestled with most things though. I'm far too curious for my own good, and I question everything. Not to mention, I was baptized in a faith that my parents weren't took keen with, they wanted me to find my own thing so I went to every denomination of Christianity's Bible School and attended incredibly Catholic weddings and funerals.

Sit...stand...kneel...no, you can't do that. Jesus...God...Mary? It all sort of confused me. On one hand, I always knew that I was supposed to think polythiesm was wrong, but couldn't wrap my head around worshiping Christ, God and Mary and considering it monotheism. I just didn't get it. On top of that, people were always trying to convert me, throwing the Lord's Prayer in my face (there were so many different versions!) as well as The Bible. Well, in the words of the movie "Saved," The Bible is not a weapon. Yet, I saw it as being used as a tool for evil, not good.

So I denounced the whole idea of organized religion for a while, because too many people were shoving it down my throat. My boyfriend at the time made me go to Lutheran church with him, and consistently hinted at the idea of my converting. I couldn't dig it though, not at the time, not at St. Matthew's Lutheran, or any other church for that matter.

I mean, I was realtively convinced of a diety of some sort, I just didn't see the confusion to be worth it.

I found the Episcopal Church when my grandfather died. His funeral was the first real movement a priest had given me, granted, it was quite the Catholic service, but the priest inspired me to re-think my idea towards organized religion. Granted, not towards Catholicism, but I had decided I wasn't into that when I wasn't allowed to take communion, it had nothing to do with the priest at my grandfather's funeral, or the fact that he said his name wrong when blessing the casket with Holy Water. We joked that it was a good thing he fixed it at the end of the ritual, because we wouldn't want my grandfather's spirit's entrance into Heaven to be confused with someone that *gasp* may have not even have died!

So, here I am, suddenly involved with the Episcopal Church...and I've made the decision to be confirmed. Without Vacation Bible School, without pamphlets and without the Lord's Prayer in it's thousands of versions.

I still don't know if I fully get it. I know that proclaiming myself as a Christian states that I accept Christ's love and what he did to die for me. I make big plans to, as they say, "walk in love as Christ loved us." I know all of this. I know that Christ is supposed to forgive me, which is good because I have premarital sex, I used to drink underage, I have a moderate sailor's tongue and...quite honestly...all that stuff considered sin enters my life on a regular basis. I like the idea of forgiveness, and prayer and meditation. I think the story of Christ is amazing...Christmas, Advent, Lent...I dig it, I really do.

I put more faith in God that people give me credit for, quite frankly. Especially the Christians that let the world know they are such. I keep my faith private, really only broadcasting it in one of my cross necklaces and the occasional church name drop.

This is where it gets me...does not proclaiming from mountain tops that Jesus Christ is my saviour and I put a good bit of my trust in God make me a bad Christian? Or...is it that humility thing.

Just some thoughts. At quarter-to-four in the morning.

Jack Kerouac calls to me...see what I mean...about the sin?

rock bottom

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) disaster.
[ elizabeth bishop ]

We read that poem in my creative writing class, and while I've found I'm not nearly as into poetry as I thought I was, I do actually like it. I'm pretty bad at interpreting things like that, but, I feel like Elizabeth has me all figured out, at least.

When things start going a bit awry, the (what I consider, at least) phenomenon of fight or flight takes place. That is, at least, what most counselors will tell you. Fight or flight boosts your adrenaline so you can run away from whatever is hunting you. Which is funny, because, I've never once been hunted and my food comes to me processed and inside a bun or on a plate of some sort these days. With your adrenaline boosted, you can then defend yourself a bit better, at least, you're supposed to. In all reality, it takes away a person's ability to eat, sleep and ability to have normal, controllable emotions.

Weeks of fight or flight end up consuming a person, until eventually the burn out period comes, or a complete breakdown of emotions. This, is what I consider hitting rock bottom.

Which, I did. In an embarassing display of tears (and the gross stuff that comes with tears that 10 year olds obsess over...you know, snot) and hysterical discontent I almost lost everything, as Bishop describes above with much more eloquence than I ever could have, especially since I just used theh word snot. Regardless, it could have been terrible, but it wasn't. Rock bottom for me was a turning point in this ridiculous journey I've found myself on this year.

I suppose the end of my personal fight or flight syndrome really cleared my head of everything I was trying to deal with. And, maybe, I should learn to sit down and admit when I can't take it anymore. Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't try and be this little studious doctoral destined scholar I think I am just yet, and instead of taking the path I think is less traveled, I'll do the cliched thing.

Take a year off. Travel, work, enhance and clarify my writing style. Maybe it's cliched because it works and is satisfying, sort of like losing your virginity in a parking lot.

Or, maybe not quite that painful and awkward...maybe just, refreshing.

Welcome to my senior year, readers.