Coming out of the Bravo closet

That title is in homage to my dearest roommate and one of the many fabulous, deep, "pondering the meaning of life" conversations we've had this quarter. Well, alright, this particular one featured reality television and formal attire. Not exactly life changing, but totally enjoyable. I want to begin by simply stating: television programming of the reality variety, viewed as an escape from (real?) reality, a much needed break after a long hard day of work, or a way to mindlessly kill a rainy afternoon (this is Seattle, it happens), is in no way reflective of the essence of your character, or indicative of your intellectual capacity. I know some wonderfully bright, lovely people that partake in the likes of such guilty indulgences as "The Bachelor" or "Flava of Love" (although, I must say, the latter is a particularly awful show, isn't it? Even I can't stomach that garbage). Everyone knows someone who watches TV while espousing their desire for quality, educational programming and condemning those who use it for sheer entertainment purposes. Well, encourage these folks to pick up a book (I absolutely love fictional literature, I must say), newspaper or magazine, and tell them to suck it. Yes, these shows are often cheaply done, poorly structured, manufactured, superficial and oftentimes featuring deplorable human beings. Sometimes I even need to switch the channel or throw on the 'mute', when the grating sound of two tweens bickering over a cashmere cardigan becomes too much to handle. I acknowledge their flaws, I embrace their shortcomings, and I can't deny that these programs serve their purpose quite well: mindless entertainment.* That being said, have I seen "Jersey Shore"? Um, "obvi". Does it fall into the category of poorly themed reality TV meant to follow and stir up the lives of "ordinary" folk, with a dash of pop culture and a pinch of pettiness? Then yes, yes I've seen it.

Everyone (radio personalities, native Jersey-ites, even my coworkers) is in a tizzy about this new show on MTV, and everyone has their own opinion about it. Fair enough. Well, here's mine. I'm tickled pink by America's recent emphasis on, and fascination with, a very specific group of tri-state area Italian descendants. Hailing from Long Island, it nearly feels like home turning on the tube to see a group of individuals tawlking about the price of their tan and brand of protein shake. However, if you're going to purport to record the experiences of said demographic, MTV, then first and foremost you should make sure that they're all in fact from those specified locations. One of the dudes is from Rhode Island; another chick is from Poughkeepsie. Last time I checked, neither of those areas fall within the 10-mile Nassau, Staten Island, Jersey radius. Granted, the rest of the members are from these fabled locations, but, still... And, of course, they're all belligerent, spray-tanned, illiterate, gutter-mouthed floosies, boys and girls alike. I know, I know that sounds uncharacteristically harsh, but such is the truth. And, quite often, it's not pretty (much like the aforementioned cast-mates).

*A few stellar reality shows to check out if you have some time to kill/waste/use unproductively, all thanks to our friends at Bravo: Top Chef, Project Runway (alright, so that's now on Lifetime), and the Housewives series. Stay away from Million Dollar Matchmaker, though; Patty's kind of frightening.

Never try to cut haircut costs

This post is fairly self indulgent (well, I suppose no more than usual). The past few days, I've realized that there are now three things that I will never, ever skimp on:

One, beds and all things related (I am, of course, referring to pillows and linens).

Two, mouthwash and/or floss (my teeth and I have been through some tough times).

Three, haircuts (please see below).

A few days ago, I chopped off all my hair and in an effort to be economical (yes, cheap, what have you) I went to a place that I was not familiar with. Yup, in this case bargain was synonymous with disastrous; the cut looked like it was done with a hatchet: very graduate chic, and really, not at all cute. 24 hours later (and a restless night of sleep, although, that might be related to the host of other assorted sleep issues that I've been having) I found myself at a lovely salon (which I knew was lovely though I was far too freaking frugal to go to in the first place). And, there you have it, here I am, 48 hours and 4 inches of hair later. It's cute. And, in the end, rather costly. Great...

One paper and 3 days left before I'm on a redeye flight to JFK. Three fabulous weeks of vacation, and I cannot wait. Boston, Vermont, Long Island...

'Simpler Times', Indeed

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of all time. Yes, yes, there's delightful, excusable gluttony and oftentimes silly carousing, but more importantly, you're with your family and kicking-off the fabulous holiday season; there's finally a chill in the air, you can see your breath, and the smell of woodsmoke is in the air! Bring on the Christmas songs! Bring on the twinkly lights! Bailey's, Andes Mints and Peppermint Mochas! Charlie Brown trees, the Griswolds are on TV and an animated clay elf just wants to be a dentist! YES. I love it. (Chel, are you laughing and/or mocking me yet?) I also absolutely adore buying Christmas gifts (or, well, gifts in general) for people, but as we all know, grad school is an exercise in frugality. I'm afraid I won't be able to enjoy that quite as much this year (just WAIT till Christmas, 2011!). Ahh, I digress...

This year, I had the privilege of having my first Thanksgiving not on Long Island, but at the home of my fabulous friends residing in Capitol Hill. And, even though I was thousands of miles away from family, it was pretty awesome. A handful of kids from my program were all in the city, so we gave thanks over 5 bottles of wine, "Pilgrim Punch", and an AMAAAAZING spread, thanks to our hosts. (Said spread included gluten free stuffing AND desserts, so needless to say, I was especially thankful). The afternoon to evening to late night included great conversation, football, cooking, Wii and, uhh, a couple rounds of Kings (yeah, did I mention that large quantities of adult beverages were consumed?). The following photo pretty much sums it up. Friends, fun, glutenless deliciousness... And, a VERY fitting beer brand.

(Is it obvious that, since figuring out how to, I'm all about uploading photos to this thing?)

Best Day Ever

Today at my place of employment, I was asked to help clean-up after the previous evening's donor meet-n-greet. Washing wine glasses in the gallery's kitchen amidst stainless steel sinks and walk in fridges brought me back to my days at the Three Village Inn; four years of waiting tables that I despised. And yet, I was oddly nostalgic. Concurrently, I had the opportunity to speak with a few folks from my old job (tear, sniff, sniff). And again, nostalgia. I think I'm seriously afflicted.

The most difficult part about being on the left coast for graduate school is quite simply the time difference. It's not so much the 3,000 miles, or even the cost of the flight. It's absolutely the fact that I can't just pick up the phone and call any friends, family, or the like back in Boston or on Long Island without first computing the 3 hour difference and realizing that the folks I want to speak with are inevitably at work or, conversely, asleep. It stinks. I'm officially heading to LI and/or Boston from Dec. 14 - the New Year. I'm thrilled; as much as I'm loving it here, it's going to be fabulous to see some familiar faces and just chill out for three weeks.

Tonight it's off to a "whiskey and wine tasting" at the home of the lovely married couple from class. I'm not so sure the two beverages necessarily go together (aside from common consonants) but I'm willing to bet it will make for an interesting evening.

Note: Please disregard this post's title unless you went to Hamilton, of course. In that case, consider this a not so subtle shout out, LMV. Just making a difference, one day at a time.

Random Seattle Star Sighting

Today, I bumped into Dave Matthews. He was heading out of the PCC (the only grocery store in my neighborhood and thus, despite its inflated prices and my apathy towards the organic, the one I'm forced to shop at every now and again). Now, it's arguable whether or not this is even worth reporting; I know this. I'm not what one would call a "Dave" fan (in fact, I abhor the fact that certain people feel that they are on a first name basis with him). However, when I first arrived in the sunny city of Seattle, my wonderful mother was simply overjoyed to know that he lives in the adjacent town of Wallingford. Now I can happily report to her that I did in fact see him, he's just as lovely in person as in his music videos, and his daughter(s?) are adorable.

What else... Oh, right, schoolwork. I've got a lot of it and no matter how much I do, there's always more - not that I'm actually complaining about it. My feminist theory course is as amazing as I had hoped and the other courses aren't too shabby either. Despite its seeming futility, education policy is pretty interesting and I now have a complete understanding of how formalized education not only started but also evolved in the United States. Of course, I've been neglecting a bit of work on the weekends, due to a steady stream of - you guessed it - Saturday night binge drinking. Halloween, house party, what can I say? When in college... And yes, it feels just like I'm in college again, except I have a better concept of the almighty dollar (and how little of it I actually have) and how my coursework might apply to the "real world".

Yeah, just picture this walking out of your average over-priced organic grocery store... Sans guitar, of course...

Amazing 30 Rock Quote of the Week

"Good God, Lemon, your breath. When did you find time to eat a diaper that you found on the beach?"

-Jack

And, last week's (since, well, I didn't do one last week)...

"Yes and no. Yes, that did happen, and no that didn't not happen."

-Also, Jack

Sheer brilliance. Hilarious.

Duck Chronicles, Part I

It's a typical October day at the old non-profit...

Campaign season has hit hard once again, and the team is plum tuckered out from their hard work saving the lives of children and housing the homeless. It may be a Monday afternoon, but there's a unanimous agreement that a drink (or 5) are in order and the colleagues head out for their usual post-work shenanigans. Someone* orders a round of drinks; He'll have the vodka 7up, the other a vodka tonic, and the rest? Shots of tequilla. But wait! There's a pregnant coworker* in their midst! Not being the type of group to let something (let alone libations) go to waste, whatever will they do with this over-abundance of alcohol?

The Duck* decides to drink...

Upon finishing his beverage, the Duck* falls into a peaceful slumber.

Silly Duck*.

Fundraising is an arduous task, but someone's gotta do it.

*Names are excluded for purposes of confidentiality.

Credits:

Rubber-band

DeGoogs

Ballin' Balan

D.Dalle

and

Wally III

And, then we were robbed...

True story. Last week we woke up one morning, the front door was wide open, and one of my housemate's backpack, bags and what not (previously strewn about the living room) were gone. The only thing I lost was my sense of security and numerous nights of sleep. Alright, that might be a bit melodramatic but in all honesty there's nothing creepier than some fellow crawling through your bathroom window at around 5am (well, that's what the Seattle police seem to think happened) while you're sound asleep in the adjacent bedroom. Also, what kind of a self respecting crook leaves behind the TV? I'm just saying.

Tonight was the first night I had free since... Well, since last Thursday. The weekend was chock full of Chelsea, and it was pretty fabulous. It was nice to have some company post-break in, too. There was a Ballard bar crawl, lots of eating (gluten free, but of course), drinking (caffeinated beverages at a variety of ambiance inspired coffee shops) and general merriment. I miss her terribly. Please see below for further proof of weekend amazingness (and biking around my neighborhood).

Seattle's (not so) Subtleties

I can't claim to be an expert of all of Seattle's quirks and subtleties quite yet; however, I can point out a few of it's peculiarities that I've picked up on.

1. I've been to more than one bar where dogs are not only allowed in, they're welcomed and even sit in the booths. Norm's, right around the corner of my house. HOW fortuitous. It's bizarre, and coincidentally, isn't it also a health hazard?

2. Jaywalking is pretty much non-existent. Yes, some people do it, but the vast majority wait obediently for the go sign. Also, it seems that the city of Seattle took the extra care to place "crossing flags" in areas of high traffic where there are no crosswalks. At first I thought that I was being made the gullible butt of some not so clever joke, but, nope. You just pick up your little flag, wave it around a bit until the cars stop, then carry it with you across the street, and leave it in the receptacle for the next person.

3. Coffee shops are in abundance (which is awesome). This we know. All of them boast the same staples: a plethora of espresso beverages (mmm caffeine), plentiful outlets and students exploiting the wi-fi, and... Beer? Right next to the espresso machine more often than not there lies a tap or two, along with the PBR tall boys.

4. Public transportation is not all that bad. It's clean, it seems to run decently according to schedule, and the bus drivers are nice. No seriously, it seems like they actually care about you getting to where you need to be. And, they allow dogs also... And bikers. Many a bus have multiple bikes strapped to their front. Also, during rush hour, I've witnessed the "honor system" being utilized (more than once).

Yeah, so, that's it for now, but I'm pretty sure there will be plenty more to come.

Study Break

Alright, big surprise here, so get ready: Grad school is a ton of work. What I mean by "work" is an absolute boat load of reading. Yeah, yeah, everyone tells you that... Then you attend your first two classes only to find out that you have two papers and over 200 pages of reading to do, in less than a week. Granted, this will help fill the free time between classes (having lived here only about two weeks, I still lack "friends", not counting my roommates), as will my work-study.

I was fortuitous enough to land a Development position with the Henry Art Gallery, which will hopefully be a nice change of pace to class. I can also tip my cap to United Way, for providing me with ample experience to snag said job. Though the office is less than half the size, I can only hope that the employees there are half as fun and fabulous as my old co-workers.

Photo note: The above is a delicious soy chai latte, which quelled my thirst and caffeinated me in order to power through Part I of Ben Franklin's autobiography. Don't be jealous; it's scintillating. If you think you might have spotted a leaf in that foam, you'd be correct. It did have a nicely crafted rosetta leaf in it... Right before I drank it.

Fremont trolls and assorted oddities

This morning, I woke up and trucked it down our hill with one of my roommates to the coffee shop at the bottom.  Her soy latte had the design of a skull in it, the craftsmanship of one of the many skilled baristas in these parts.  The weather was crisp, cool and clean, and sunny, and everywhere there were bright green plants and pines. I have lived here no more than 36 hours, and I've decided I love this neighborhood.  

I live in Fremont: Fremont is to Seattle, what Cambridge is the Boston. It's on the same side of the water (a canal splitting Seattle and running to the Puget Sound) as the University.  I've also heard the area referred to as "The Republic of Fremont", so I think this comparison is rather fitting.  From my house (which is a few blocks up a steep hill - the city is full of them, like San Francisco, all running down to the water) you can see the water, parts of Seattle and on clear days, Mt. Rainier.  

There are tons of little shops and restaurants - bakeries, taco places, gelato shops, clothing stores, and no less than 3 Thai restaurants (one with only cushions for seating) that I know Chels will appreciate when she visits.  All of the stores are tiny individual buildings and houses, painted bright greens, purples, blues and pinks. There's a chocolate factory at the end of the street, with tours and free chocolate.  There's a giant farmers market along the water every Sunday, with veggies and fruits, second hand stuff, crafts, jewelry, and the like.  There's a bike path (Burke-Gilman Trail) along there that runs all the way to the University (about 3 miles). There's the Freemont Troll, Gasworks Park, a giant statue of Lenin, and so on, and so on...

It's all pretty picturesque (with a touch of Tim Burton) and feels more like a vacation than a (semi-)permanent move.

Welcome to Long Island Wine Country

We took a little drive out east for wine tasting at the vineyards on the North Fork. Perhaps the PERFECT way to spend a Sunday afternoon with friends. Wonderful, unique hilarious friends that I've known since forever and miss every time I leave Long Island.

Congratulations, McLean!! A half marathon is no small feat... GREAT WORK!

Living History, Babe

My, this has been a productive Saturday.  After fending off a well earned hangover early this morning, I got myself in gear and headed down to the Brookhaven Town Fair to watch the dads in action.  Civil War reenacting is a serious (and sometimes messy - especially when it's been pouring for the past 24 hours) business, but somebody's got to do it.

The"Living History" portion included the Civil War's 57th Virginia (Dad), Revolutionary War soldiers, women, and kids, and even some WWII guys (and a couple kids in saddle shoes and navy dresses - a nice touch).  I got to try on a real Nazi helmet, which is pretty cool, if I do say so myself. I've been fascinated with the historical period of the Holocaust and Nazi Germany for as long as I can remember.  My head was too big; it didn't fit.  Little fact about helmets from this era: The US soldiers all had the same size, and adjusted them to fit their heads with a leather band on the interiors. Nazi's, on the other hand, had helmets made specifically for the size of their individual heads.  Those made toward the end of the war (like this one) were almost all teeny tiny, as they resorted to recruiting TONS of adolescents and young boys.  

P.S. I finally saw Inglorious Basterds.  Even though I was dubious (I'm not into gory films, which is what I anticipated from Quentin Tarantino), it was pretty enjoyable and oddly enough, a really beautiful film. The awesome 1930-40's costumes, the saturated colors (in everything even the blood), the orchestral music, the scenery - even taken without the plot/story line, it was like a piece of art.

September 11th

I had totally forgotten about it, until coming home from the driving range yesterday seeing the Coram Fire Department's billboard, promoting their memorial service to remember "all the heroes that have fallen".  Switching on the TV this morning, every basic cable news channel was broadcasting the memorial service being held at the site of the World Trade Center - a slow reading of all the names of those lost, by family, friends, and volunteers. 

Everybody has different memories of that day in 2001. I very vividly remember where I was: my second week of classes at NYU, standing in Washington Square Park with the rest of my Prose Comp. class, watching the first tower fall.  Amidst the panic and whatnot, I remember jogging back to my dorm room on Broadway and E. 10th St. to wake up and grab my roommates. We got back to that spot in the park (right in front of the NYU library) just in time to see the second tower crumble. I really couldn't comprehend the severity of the situation, even with the screaming and crying rippling through the crowd.  Even over the next 48 hours, completely unable to get in touch with anyone (phone, internet, nothing), watching that night from our dorm window as the line of military trucks and vehicles crawled down Broadway, wandering around the evacuated, empty Village with our mouths and noses covered by handkerchiefs because of all the dust in the air, watching a fireman covered in dust and sweat collapsed in the corner of Penn Station, hat in his lap, head in his hands, crying - even these memories seem surreal.  It was a very, very interesting time to be living in New York City, especially as an 18 year old freshman.

Vermonster

After further investigation (4 days worth, to be exact), I’ve come to the conclusion that Brattleboro just might be the town that urban evolution forgot.  Seemingly stuck sometime in the late ‘60’s, secessionists are just as prevalent as cell phones and organic farming is not so much "cool" as it is a necessary means of existence.  It’s actually kind of a breath of fresh air; in most places “going green” is the new “save Tibet”, and just how genuine can general population trends (this one concerning the environment) be?  Moving right along, it was an eventful and totally enjoyable Labor Day weekend. Here’s why…

The weather was spectacular, we hiked Monadnock and  Wantastiquet, hung out with the cool and colorful characters about town, and ate some yummy grub.  Between partaking in a potluck dinner at the farm where Chels resides, perusing the town’s humongous farmers market and multiple co-ops, this was pretty far from traditional Long Island cuisine (uhh, Italian, pizza and bagels? All delicious, though not so much organic or particularly healthy). Just about everything edible was local (Chels’ farm fam. actually sells their veggies and flowers at the co-op), delicious, and ridiculously affordable. 

Example offering perspective:

1 medium coffee at Petsi’s Pies, Cambridge, MA - $1.65

1 medium coffee in Brattleboro, VT - <$1.00. No joke (and that ratio is pretty much across the board).

Also responsible for adding to weekend awesomeness was our impromptu jaunt north to Burlington (JE ME souviens!!! What a great city – I highly recommend it). And finally, like every true ice cream lover, we made the holy pilgrimage to Waterbury, VT, “home” of Ben and Jerry’s. Actually, that’s a common misconception. As we very shockingly found out about three minutes into our tour of le factory, both Ben and Jerry hail from Merrick, Long Island. That’s right, rejoice, in my mind they can join the infamous ranks of Mariah Carey, Jerry Seinfeld, Rosie O’Donnell and LEST WE FORGET, Lindsay Lohan.

Anyway, weekend rating: A+

Oh, and in other equally exciting news, I am now a Mac owner. Since moving home, I’ve thrown procrastination to the wind (along with a good portion of my savings) and purchased the computer I’ve been professing to need for about 6 months now. So long, my sister’s six year old Sony. I’m not quite sure you’ll be missed, but it’s been a good run nonetheless.

Gew. Merh.

Curses! My second day home only to be struck down by some sort of stomach virus, leaving me incapacitated and stranded in the house, feeling like I've been pummeled in the stomach.
Whenever I get sick, no matter where I am, I always wish I was home, lying on the couch taking in 90210 reruns and fending off my mother’s incessant doting. Yet, here I am, watching an emaciated Tori Spelling juggle two potential suitors, and it’s just not cutting it this time. Home simply isn’t the same when you’re 26 and none of your siblings reside within a hundred mile radius. Or, your good friends, for that matter.

Speaking of impossibly awesome individuals in Boston, while Sunday’s voyage to Long Island was pretty uneventful, actually renting the vehicle turned into more of a hassle than I had anticipated. I really don’t know what I would have done without help, and now I find myself wondering, what am I going to do without said assistance in the future? Just thinking about that, I get all teary eyed and stupidly nostalgic. And, just plain old sad...

Right. So, since I have two.five more weeks of this (hopefully sans stomach pains) I’m going to need to do something constructive, aside from the normal jogs, jaunts to the beach, and packing. Last night my mother and I went to the driving range, and I realized just what a fabulous golfer she is. I rather enjoyed watching her put the majority of other individuals at the place to shame, while she tried to advise me: “No, no. Bend your knees like you’re sitting on the edge of a barstool. C’mon, I know you know how to do that” (Right). I’ve concluded that it might behoove me to learn a bit of golf, especially while I have a seasoned instructor at my disposal and amazing golf courses within a 15 minute drive. I even worked at one, back in the day, driving around the beer cart and serving argyle clad old men at the club's bar. Plus, I loved aristocratic lawn sports such as croquet and bocce in college. True, there was always a styrofoam cooler of beer involved, but how different could this possibly be? Since I’ve now mastered driving the ball 50 yards with a 7 (yes, that’s right, don’t be jealous) we might play 9 holes this weekend. Game on!

New London, CT

A shot of New London from the Orient Point Ferry, en route to Long Island.

Covert Consumption

Sneaky, sneaky, stealing my beverage at Border Cafe.

Aside: Clearly, I've figured out how to post or "publish" (if you will) photos. Oh, technology, how I am endlessly entertained...

Um, is it fall already?

I was unaware that the latter part of this week would bear a startling resemblance to fall. It's breezy, almost crisp, and on my jog this morning I swear I even saw some foliage that had begun to change. Having sent home my first round of boxes this past weekend amidst a heatwave of oppressive swampesque humidity, I am lacking any sort of jean-like garment and have but one hoodie. With no appropriate attire, I shall try to combat the impending chilly evening(s) with copious amounts of red wine.

Despite my best efforts, I guess you can't plan for everything. Also, having sold my bed, I now lack a place to sleep for the next two nights. The red wine should also help out in that situation.

Day two of terminal unemployment: still weird.

So, here I am, disoriented and bleary eyed, taking in the morning talk shows with a steaming cup of coffee from Petsi's Pies. My plans for the day include cleaning, grocery shopping, and should I muster up the motivation, a jog around the river. Is this comparable to being a housewife? All I need are curlers and a screaming infant to nurse. That is not wishful thinking by the way, I'm overjoyed that the only thing screaming right now is Kelly Ripa (easily alleviated by the click of a button). Yesterday morning, I woke up with a start as if out of a coma. My alarm failed to go off (probably directly related to the fact that I had accidentally set it for 10:00PM) and it literally took me 30 seconds to figure out what day of the week it was (what?! 10:30AM, am I late for work?! Wait, is it a weekend?!). The 9-5 schedule I adhered to for nearly 4 years is so ingrained in my daily, weekly happenings, that it's tough to break. This still feels very much like a vacation (featuring a tornado that has managed to rip through my room and tear apart my closet, leaving it's contents strewn about my floor).

My first month of rent for Seattle has been mailed. My room is in the process of being boxed and relocated. And, most importantly perhaps, my plane ticket to Seattle has officially been purchased: One-way, Thursday, September 17th. It was also rather cheap ($109 Jetblue), so make sure to keep that in mind when you're contemplating the best time to come visit the Northwest. For the past few weeks, I put off purchase mostly because I couldn't committ to an actual date (too finite and final), but now that I have, I feel like a weight has been lifted. Now my only concern is figuring out how to maneuver that boat of a Chevy Trailblazer I've rented for Sunday on and off the Port Jeff Ferry. Oh, good times...

Sidenote: I just realized that there's no spellcheck here, the gramatical crutch for 20th century adolescents. Chelsea will inevitably mock me for spelling something like "C'est La Vie" wrong, or some such nonsense (I mean, really? I'm not French. And there's not a hope in hell of looking for any phonetic cues). Try not to judge; and, Chels, try to contain your giggles.

The Foreword: UDubb(s) Plural

I, have a blog. After weeks of toying with the idea of spilling my guts virtually, I've finally gotten around to taking the 3 minutes out of my busy day to sign up. I dislike Twitter (for no particular reason) and frown upon those that use Facebook as a diary, but, as hypocritical as it may seem, here I go. My first foray at blogging.

In 48 hours I will no longer be an employee of United Way of Massachusetts Bay and Merrimack Valley, leaving me officially unemployed. The thought is rather overwhelming, as I've spent the last 3.5 years commuting to and from 51 Sleeper Street. That's roughly an hour each day, five days a week, 52 weeks a year and, much to my surprise (year two was a rather trying time) I'm actually really going to miss this place. United Way (or "UDubb" as it's affectionately referred to by some) has been the epicenter of my social existence in Boston. Strenuous campaign seasons, debaucherous happy hours, ridiculous rabblerousing in our respective cubicle rows... Overall, it's been the ideal workplace for a single 20 something seeking both supportive coworkers and friends. I've been fortunate to make quite a few here. And, I'll miss them more than I care to elaborate upon (I’m scratching sentimentality here).

Ironically enough, my impending unemployment is the result of a decision to begin graduate school at the University of Washington, otherwise ALSO known as, UDubb (coincidence? Um, yes, probably). Conveniently located on the opposite coast of this fine country, I will tragically be transplanting myself in Seattle this September. This leaves me t-minus 3 weeks to get my “ducks in a row” (if you will), including: saying my goodbyes, packing up my belongings and soaking up East Coast culture in all of it’s glory. Of course, I also still need to sign my promissory notes (bring on the loans, baby), purchase my plane ticket, and figure out what exactly I’m going to do once I arrive in said city, but those are simply logistics, minor details…

The courses I’ve registered for sound amazing (time to tap back into intellectualism), the campus is absolutely beautiful, and Seattle is an amazing city that, for me, has always held a certain allure. In layman’s terms, this is an exciting time. To be more verbose, I’ve spent countless hours over the past 4 years trying to figure out what my next steps will be. Fortuitously, I fell into fundraising here and have enjoyed my time but in no way was it, or will it ever be, my passion. Though I’ve definitely made it my home, Boston has never truly felt like the place I belong permanently. I’m leaving behind 3.5 years of learning and professional growth, 182 weeks of hilariously unique and fabulous friends, and 1,274 days of memories as a resident of Greater Boston. I’m looking forward to graduate school at the University of Washington, a whole new host of acquaintances and hopefully friends, and anticipated ups and downs and who knows what else, in Seattle. And, really, that’s the best part.

So that, in short, sums up the purpose of this blog. This will hopefully document the aforementioned impending change.

[end]