I’m always looking for the next big thing. Not sure what that means, but in this case it means I’m going back to Ireland. Yep, for spring break again. I’m going with my friend RB and we’re going to have the time of our life because we’re not scheduling A THING.
I realize I haven’t written in a long time and it’s not because nothing exciting has happened, it’s because I’ve been busy living my life. I refound my love of reading this year. Right now I’m reading a sexually and politically intense book set in Istanbul by Orphan Pamuk. And right around Christmas time I finally finished Pride and Prejudice.
In the wake of the earthquake in Haiti, I found myself eating lunch at work opening mail from all over the world, thinking to myself “What am I doing here?” There are people in Haiti that need help and I am just sitting here! I felt invigoratingly guilty as I had to keep myself from almost vomiting at the thought. How could a thought make me feel the need to throw up? I didn’t have an answer to that last Tuesday but I do now.
I’m doing what I need to do here in Pittsburgh. I’m a student, studying to be an engineer. That’s what I’m doing for the world right now. The most I can do is be the best Gracie I can be, and that’s what I intend to do this semester. I’m not bored with my life so what is this next big thing concept? There is no next big thing. What I need to do is to be right here, practice living my life in the present, and to really enjoy it.
Because something’s going to happen one day, and being ill-prepared births the best experiences.
Until then, 77 days until the first pitch.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Soul Possession
Even though the Steelers lost Sunday, almost devastatingly to the Bengals (who now have sole possession – and my soul possession- of the AFC North division) I found myself comforted, if only slightly. I love Steelers games because I get texts and phone calls from all over the country. You see, in high school me and my friends would gather in JN’s basement and watch the games. Now she is in college in Maryland…texts me during the games. Another friend from the basement is in Seattle…texts me during the games. My brother is in school in Austin, TX and texts me about Mike Tomlin’s outfits on Sundays.
It’s as though I have all these people, my closest friends and family right next to me, gathered around in the basement all over again. It’s probably a reason I love the Steelers…if only a small reason. And I wouldn’t doubt other Pittsburghers share this feeling. It’s like no matter how far away the people you love are, it endures.
I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen my brothers and parents all in one place since January. And I’m finally at the point where I want to.
1 week.
It’s as though I have all these people, my closest friends and family right next to me, gathered around in the basement all over again. It’s probably a reason I love the Steelers…if only a small reason. And I wouldn’t doubt other Pittsburghers share this feeling. It’s like no matter how far away the people you love are, it endures.
I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen my brothers and parents all in one place since January. And I’m finally at the point where I want to.
1 week.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Peru or bust
I was just at the Slovak Festival with my dad and found that I really enjoy spending time with him when neither of us have an objective. Honestly he’s the best dad I could ever have. He's thoughtful and loving and read me a bedtime story everyday of my childhood no matter how tired he was from work. He helps me grow a garden. He encouraged my education. He gets excited about every little acheivement I make, and even though he doesn't like sports, watches baseball games so that we will have something to talk about. I’m very thankful.
Clearly it was a bye week for the Steelers or else this would not have happened on a Sunday afternoon. I sat in the Cathedral of Learning listening to a lecture on Slovak genealogy and staring out the window at the fall leaves and I found myself finally seeing something. My grandparents and great-grandparents stepped on a ship, left everything they’ve ever known and sailed to a place they’ve never seen. And they had planned on staying there FOREVER. Never coming home. This was not unlike my own experience stepping on to a ship in Halifax, Nova Scotia to go to unknown lands. I now realized how much they sacrificed for me, because I know how scared and excited I was to step on the MV Explorer and I was returning to my home in three months. Wow. They must have been absolutely terrified.
Also, upon seeing so many Slovak Americans at the festival, I wondered about my own identity. People clearly see my last name and know it means I have Slovak blood in me. But what about my brother? He must be more confused than anyone. My older brother (by 10 months) is adopted from Peru. Clearly full Peruvian yet has an entirely Slovak last name. What must he think about this? And now that more and more families are adopting from foreign countries there is an entire generation of people growing into adulthood that have last names unlike their heritage. It is exactly like what happened with the slaves in southern states…and why we get black football players named Larry Fitzgerald.
If I am having problems with my identity what must he be thinking? Not even ever having met his biological mother? Or father? We know he had an older brother but that the family couldn’t afford to care for another. His bio-mother must think of him. I wonder if she thinks we did a good job. I think I am more curious than him at this point.
Since we are so close in age, my mother said that I spoke before him and asked her one day when I was 2ish why he was a different color from me. My brother had never asked.
Now we are 22 and 21 and come March we are both going down to Peru. I will speak Spanish for him (because he doesn’t know any) and we will try to find Los Ninos- the adoption agency. I think this is something we both need to do. Neither of us has ever been to Peru. It’s the Next Big Thing for me.
In March, we’ll both be 22 years old.
I wonder if anyone will mistake us for twins.
Clearly it was a bye week for the Steelers or else this would not have happened on a Sunday afternoon. I sat in the Cathedral of Learning listening to a lecture on Slovak genealogy and staring out the window at the fall leaves and I found myself finally seeing something. My grandparents and great-grandparents stepped on a ship, left everything they’ve ever known and sailed to a place they’ve never seen. And they had planned on staying there FOREVER. Never coming home. This was not unlike my own experience stepping on to a ship in Halifax, Nova Scotia to go to unknown lands. I now realized how much they sacrificed for me, because I know how scared and excited I was to step on the MV Explorer and I was returning to my home in three months. Wow. They must have been absolutely terrified.
Also, upon seeing so many Slovak Americans at the festival, I wondered about my own identity. People clearly see my last name and know it means I have Slovak blood in me. But what about my brother? He must be more confused than anyone. My older brother (by 10 months) is adopted from Peru. Clearly full Peruvian yet has an entirely Slovak last name. What must he think about this? And now that more and more families are adopting from foreign countries there is an entire generation of people growing into adulthood that have last names unlike their heritage. It is exactly like what happened with the slaves in southern states…and why we get black football players named Larry Fitzgerald.
If I am having problems with my identity what must he be thinking? Not even ever having met his biological mother? Or father? We know he had an older brother but that the family couldn’t afford to care for another. His bio-mother must think of him. I wonder if she thinks we did a good job. I think I am more curious than him at this point.
Since we are so close in age, my mother said that I spoke before him and asked her one day when I was 2ish why he was a different color from me. My brother had never asked.
Now we are 22 and 21 and come March we are both going down to Peru. I will speak Spanish for him (because he doesn’t know any) and we will try to find Los Ninos- the adoption agency. I think this is something we both need to do. Neither of us has ever been to Peru. It’s the Next Big Thing for me.
In March, we’ll both be 22 years old.
I wonder if anyone will mistake us for twins.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Rotten Apple
There’s something about watching post-season baseball that makes me want to reflect in my own life. Maybe lately though, I’ve done too much reflecting and not enough doing. Though this weekend was pleasingly awesome.
This whole weekend, I’ve been mildly stressed because when I arrived back in the states I forgot to order insulin. I get a three-month supply shipped to me quarterly and what with everything going on it became a complete deletion from my mind. College students worry about bills, moving into apartments, relationships, having enough gas in the car and food in the fridge, staying healthy,….being cool- not this stuff. I hate being an adult. I went home the other day and realized there was not a 3 month supply waiting for me and that blew my mind. Now I am living on the edge, if I don’t get it in 24 hours I will get really sick.
I’ve done everything I can, called multiple places and now it’s out of my hands. It’s one of those times I wish I could take one of two options:
1. Go back about 10 years and stop being an adult.
2. Not have juvenile diabetes.
I always seem to find myself in these situations. This one was totally my mistake and my fault. When I was in Egypt, my diabetes supply was recalled. Maybe I always find myself here because American insurance companies don’t expect young people with diabetes to do the things I do. If I wasn’t globe-trotting I would not have forgotten and if I wasn’t in Egypt I would have gotten the recall that was delivered to my house in Pittsburgh.
There must be a reason trouble always finds me. I don’t know why though.
So right now I have chosen to take the adult route, not stress, and everything will work out.
Hopefully.
Regardless, this weekend was great.
Rain wet my face as my roommate and I walked to Pittsburgh’s Southside Saturday afternoon to sort through Goodwill in search of a Halloween costume. I love rain. We both wore gloves and scarves and the October crisp pummeled our bodies with chill as we walked. The walk was wonderful because I find when you have one-on-one time with a person you find yourself remembering why you like them so much. Why you are friends. AT is a happy person that I love being around in the holiday season. She loves to fill our living space with good smells and splash the walls, doors, cabinets, and any surface she can find with colorful themed decorations. She has this curiosity to learn about this city that I wish I still had, and when she gets excited her smile and laughter infect me even if I am having a bad day. I also enjoy our dance parties together.
In this case, my roommate and I ran into a tiny dog at a coffee shop called Mad Dog on the southside. This Steelers-bandanna clad canine was perfectly content warming herself at the fireplace until he saw us. Lexie begged us with her eyes to come rub her behind the ears.
We traveled home through the steps of Pittsburgh that were once used by Steel workers. Me and AT found ourselves on a Pittsburgh adventure, hiking stairs to a place where we didn’t know we would end up. It was thrilling.
Saturday night I went to the Penguins game with my good friend EW who had gotten unused season tickets from her family. It was a great game and EW had her first beer at a sporting event. I was proud to be there for it. The thing about hockey is that it has many meanings for me.
The day after I left UVA, I attended the Capitals/Pens game. Five days before leaving for Semester at Sea, we won the cup and JB and I rioted in the Southside. Hockey gives me great feelings of hope, kind of like football. Maybe that’s at the root of my sports obsession. When everything is going bad, or at least crazy, you can count on your team to give you time to enjoy. This game, Saturday night really hit home the fact that summer is over.
That’s fine with me.
My little brother commented that my insulin pump had a Pirates decal. He said, “Grace, ya know…it’s not like we live in a town that has losers. You have so much to choose from. But you have to pick the one rotten apple.”
I guess I still have hope for them.
Now I’m going to forget about the insulin for now, and watch some more October baseball.
This whole weekend, I’ve been mildly stressed because when I arrived back in the states I forgot to order insulin. I get a three-month supply shipped to me quarterly and what with everything going on it became a complete deletion from my mind. College students worry about bills, moving into apartments, relationships, having enough gas in the car and food in the fridge, staying healthy,….being cool- not this stuff. I hate being an adult. I went home the other day and realized there was not a 3 month supply waiting for me and that blew my mind. Now I am living on the edge, if I don’t get it in 24 hours I will get really sick.
I’ve done everything I can, called multiple places and now it’s out of my hands. It’s one of those times I wish I could take one of two options:
1. Go back about 10 years and stop being an adult.
2. Not have juvenile diabetes.
I always seem to find myself in these situations. This one was totally my mistake and my fault. When I was in Egypt, my diabetes supply was recalled. Maybe I always find myself here because American insurance companies don’t expect young people with diabetes to do the things I do. If I wasn’t globe-trotting I would not have forgotten and if I wasn’t in Egypt I would have gotten the recall that was delivered to my house in Pittsburgh.
There must be a reason trouble always finds me. I don’t know why though.
So right now I have chosen to take the adult route, not stress, and everything will work out.
Hopefully.
Regardless, this weekend was great.
Rain wet my face as my roommate and I walked to Pittsburgh’s Southside Saturday afternoon to sort through Goodwill in search of a Halloween costume. I love rain. We both wore gloves and scarves and the October crisp pummeled our bodies with chill as we walked. The walk was wonderful because I find when you have one-on-one time with a person you find yourself remembering why you like them so much. Why you are friends. AT is a happy person that I love being around in the holiday season. She loves to fill our living space with good smells and splash the walls, doors, cabinets, and any surface she can find with colorful themed decorations. She has this curiosity to learn about this city that I wish I still had, and when she gets excited her smile and laughter infect me even if I am having a bad day. I also enjoy our dance parties together.
In this case, my roommate and I ran into a tiny dog at a coffee shop called Mad Dog on the southside. This Steelers-bandanna clad canine was perfectly content warming herself at the fireplace until he saw us. Lexie begged us with her eyes to come rub her behind the ears.
We traveled home through the steps of Pittsburgh that were once used by Steel workers. Me and AT found ourselves on a Pittsburgh adventure, hiking stairs to a place where we didn’t know we would end up. It was thrilling.
Saturday night I went to the Penguins game with my good friend EW who had gotten unused season tickets from her family. It was a great game and EW had her first beer at a sporting event. I was proud to be there for it. The thing about hockey is that it has many meanings for me.
The day after I left UVA, I attended the Capitals/Pens game. Five days before leaving for Semester at Sea, we won the cup and JB and I rioted in the Southside. Hockey gives me great feelings of hope, kind of like football. Maybe that’s at the root of my sports obsession. When everything is going bad, or at least crazy, you can count on your team to give you time to enjoy. This game, Saturday night really hit home the fact that summer is over.
That’s fine with me.
My little brother commented that my insulin pump had a Pirates decal. He said, “Grace, ya know…it’s not like we live in a town that has losers. You have so much to choose from. But you have to pick the one rotten apple.”
I guess I still have hope for them.
Now I’m going to forget about the insulin for now, and watch some more October baseball.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Watching Eggs hit the Windshield
The past few days have seen me through a great breakthrough, which has been awesome. I’m still unsure how this is going to all work out, but I’m fairly certain I’ve taken the right path in ending this friendship. Now I am free to do exactly as I please. As I said to my friends, I never thought I was this kind of a person. Where do I get this power and courage to tell someone my deepest feelings about them? Who is this Grace? This isn’t my life, I’m not this exciting.
But it is.
I feel as though I’ve just done something as crazy and unreal as climb Mt. Sinai on a camel or roam around Italy at 2am. It’s a phenomenal feeling that fills the emptiness I have for losing a friend.
Emotions are like eggs with me, fragile, explosive, and filled to the capacity of their borders. By telling this person how I feel I have put a dozen eggs in the front seat of my car, stopped short and let them collide and fill the windshield, smashing intensely.
I went for a great run today. I don’t run to stay in shape. I run for my mental health. It started when I was five and entered my first 1.5 mile race and won a trophy. From then on, I run to get away from all the stressors in my life- not uncommon. But my favorite running is in inclement weather when I am the only one out there. Flooding Pittsburgh rain, subzero January Steelers temperatures – that’s what I prefer. Today I saw orange, red, and yellow leaves paint the trail walls of Schenley Park.
I picked up my guitar today for the first time in more than a year, and I’m reading Pride and Prejudice at the urging of my Egyptian soldier.
I’m trying to think this is going in the right direction.
Work is certainly interesting; I love fixing lasers.
Today was the 49th anniversary of Bill Mazeroski’s 1960 World Series walk-off homerun. Exciting things do happen in Oakland. If I could go back to any point in time I wish I could have been on top of the Cathedral of Learning to see that eruption of Pittsburgh Pride.
I have been here (the U.S.) for 52 days. We are so rushed in this country; I want to go to another. Maybe they need industrial engineers in Cadiz. Oh how I want to go back. Maybe it is just the journey and the excitement that I miss. Or the mystique of being American or a Steelers fan in a place so far from everything your subconscious has become familiar with.
Lessons learned:
1. Go abroad in the future.
2. You’ve Got Mail isn’t real so stop watching it.
3. Stop pushing everyone away. Independence does not equal loneliness. No one wants to hear how much you miss the world and the ship but that does not mean they don’t care about you.
4. Laughing without self-control will cure all sadness.
5. Buy Stress-relieving Aveno body wash.
Now I must go watch October baseball, it’s one of the best times of the year.
But it is.
I feel as though I’ve just done something as crazy and unreal as climb Mt. Sinai on a camel or roam around Italy at 2am. It’s a phenomenal feeling that fills the emptiness I have for losing a friend.
Emotions are like eggs with me, fragile, explosive, and filled to the capacity of their borders. By telling this person how I feel I have put a dozen eggs in the front seat of my car, stopped short and let them collide and fill the windshield, smashing intensely.
I went for a great run today. I don’t run to stay in shape. I run for my mental health. It started when I was five and entered my first 1.5 mile race and won a trophy. From then on, I run to get away from all the stressors in my life- not uncommon. But my favorite running is in inclement weather when I am the only one out there. Flooding Pittsburgh rain, subzero January Steelers temperatures – that’s what I prefer. Today I saw orange, red, and yellow leaves paint the trail walls of Schenley Park.
I picked up my guitar today for the first time in more than a year, and I’m reading Pride and Prejudice at the urging of my Egyptian soldier.
I’m trying to think this is going in the right direction.
Work is certainly interesting; I love fixing lasers.
Today was the 49th anniversary of Bill Mazeroski’s 1960 World Series walk-off homerun. Exciting things do happen in Oakland. If I could go back to any point in time I wish I could have been on top of the Cathedral of Learning to see that eruption of Pittsburgh Pride.
I have been here (the U.S.) for 52 days. We are so rushed in this country; I want to go to another. Maybe they need industrial engineers in Cadiz. Oh how I want to go back. Maybe it is just the journey and the excitement that I miss. Or the mystique of being American or a Steelers fan in a place so far from everything your subconscious has become familiar with.
Lessons learned:
1. Go abroad in the future.
2. You’ve Got Mail isn’t real so stop watching it.
3. Stop pushing everyone away. Independence does not equal loneliness. No one wants to hear how much you miss the world and the ship but that does not mean they don’t care about you.
4. Laughing without self-control will cure all sadness.
5. Buy Stress-relieving Aveno body wash.
Now I must go watch October baseball, it’s one of the best times of the year.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Ursula
Every girl has a name she hates. It could be someone she met who just didn’t sizzle her spirit, a high school friend who turned into a bad choice, or even a Disney nemesis. My roommates and I have compiled these names and refer to them as such when our monthly gift comes. Mine is named Ursula, like the evil witch from the Little Mermaid.
This week Ursula showed up right on time, but unexpectedly to me. “Had it really been a month?” I said scratching my head. Why yes it had. That was my second week of work. And the time before that, Ursula visited me on top of Mt. Sinai in Egypt. *sigh*
This week Ursula has been an especially tricky bitch, and inhibiting me from engineering the plant where I work. As I walk to a meeting with all men, I just want to rub my lower abdomen – but that’s not allowed, of course. Standing for short periods of time in heels fatigues my situation and forget taking measurements for layouts. The most difficult part of Ursula this time is that I have to hide her. I wonder how Rosie the riveter did it….
This week Ursula showed up right on time, but unexpectedly to me. “Had it really been a month?” I said scratching my head. Why yes it had. That was my second week of work. And the time before that, Ursula visited me on top of Mt. Sinai in Egypt. *sigh*
This week Ursula has been an especially tricky bitch, and inhibiting me from engineering the plant where I work. As I walk to a meeting with all men, I just want to rub my lower abdomen – but that’s not allowed, of course. Standing for short periods of time in heels fatigues my situation and forget taking measurements for layouts. The most difficult part of Ursula this time is that I have to hide her. I wonder how Rosie the riveter did it….
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