(no subject)
Once I finish re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I will imagine the feeling will be similar to how the Pevensie children felt in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis when they could no longer enter the world of Narnia through the old wardrobe. As the last page is turned, the way will be shut, preventing future excursions, I imagine. I think I will re-read them later on, but that contigency seems too far out of any sense of contemplation. Six months from now seems like such a remote point in time as departure looms casts an interesting pall over the pace by which time languidly proceeds.
In other news, I am excited to announce that my last shift at McDonalds appears to be Friday, 11-5, I have not decided if I want to take it or not, depends upon whether or not I make plans for that day. Today's shift was such a slog, time seemed to move with the rapidity of The Iliad's story arc. I attempted the "it smells like updog in here joke" which no one was able to understand.
On Friday I went to the Mariners game with Connor. They were playing the Red Sox, and as I predicted there were multidinous Sox fans dressed in their favourite red attire, to the utter annoyance of Connor and I. When we had taken our seats, we did not fail to notice that pretty much the entire row in front of us was comprised of Red Sox fans. For those of you who have not had the distinct pleasure of coming to a sporting event with me, I enjoy heckling the opposing team's players and loudly exhorting my team to victory. In the first inning my antics seemed to have gotten under the skin of a thirty-something year-old woman, who appeared to be quite enebriated, when I told one of her boy's sarcastically that he did a nice job of running the bases (he overran the third base coach, attempted to go back and Manny Ramirez ran by him, resulting in an out). She proceeded to tell me that I "needed to learn baseball." For those of you who know me well, this was a particularly low blow. Later on in the game, with the score tied, I made the "safe" motion an umpire makes, and accidentally spilled half of this guy's wine, he was of course a red sox fan. I did not see him approach from behind, and he became quite irate. He did not attempt to hurt me or anything, but definitely was not pleased with what he had felt was a deliberate attempt upon his wine (the guy was fifty something). Then a guy who was sitting next to me, with whom I had been high-fiving the entire night, starts picking a fight with the old bloke, nothing bad happened, but it was nice to have someone stand up for me. Then the woman from the first inning leans toward me, and I lean forward as well to hear what she wanted to tell me (I was thinking she was going to say it wasn't my fault the wine was spilt) that I was a, I kid you not, "punk ass." When Kenji Johjima hit the go-ahead two-run homer I cheered as loudly as I could, in fiery defiance of the Red Sox fan tyranny (a guy in the row in front, a Mariner supporter, pointed at me and did the hang loose sign and I felt a sense of perverted brotherhood). As Connor and I collected our belongings and made ready for departure, I told him to wait, as I needed to deliver a parting shot jeer of "BACK TO BOSTON!!" It was my last Mariner game of the season, and I definitely went out in style.
Saturday night I went over to Mariah Ahern's for a dinner party which was also attended by Rebecca and Johnny Baggett. We supped on delicious pesto pasta and discussed John's Lutheranism, and watched the sophisticated film Spy Kids. A very nice night wholly comprised of good wholesome fun, as Mariah took to reminding us throughout. It was closed by an impromptu dance party which started innocently as an exhibition of Johnny's pretty horrid music taste from his cell phone, and morphed itself into a little dance-off between him and Mariah, very entertaining though. Being the only person who was not returning to high school there was me. i could not help imagining them having these sorts of things without me being there, and I felt at once jealous and mad at myself for so easily dismissing the change in lifestyle that comes with living in New York City., and how much I am going to welcome that. It is just difficult to cast aside the known commodity of life here, which is removed enough from most senses of the word worry, to a world that will be made up of mostly that word, you know?
Basically two weeks until departure, I hope to make them well-spent.
In other news, I am excited to announce that my last shift at McDonalds appears to be Friday, 11-5, I have not decided if I want to take it or not, depends upon whether or not I make plans for that day. Today's shift was such a slog, time seemed to move with the rapidity of The Iliad's story arc. I attempted the "it smells like updog in here joke" which no one was able to understand.
On Friday I went to the Mariners game with Connor. They were playing the Red Sox, and as I predicted there were multidinous Sox fans dressed in their favourite red attire, to the utter annoyance of Connor and I. When we had taken our seats, we did not fail to notice that pretty much the entire row in front of us was comprised of Red Sox fans. For those of you who have not had the distinct pleasure of coming to a sporting event with me, I enjoy heckling the opposing team's players and loudly exhorting my team to victory. In the first inning my antics seemed to have gotten under the skin of a thirty-something year-old woman, who appeared to be quite enebriated, when I told one of her boy's sarcastically that he did a nice job of running the bases (he overran the third base coach, attempted to go back and Manny Ramirez ran by him, resulting in an out). She proceeded to tell me that I "needed to learn baseball." For those of you who know me well, this was a particularly low blow. Later on in the game, with the score tied, I made the "safe" motion an umpire makes, and accidentally spilled half of this guy's wine, he was of course a red sox fan. I did not see him approach from behind, and he became quite irate. He did not attempt to hurt me or anything, but definitely was not pleased with what he had felt was a deliberate attempt upon his wine (the guy was fifty something). Then a guy who was sitting next to me, with whom I had been high-fiving the entire night, starts picking a fight with the old bloke, nothing bad happened, but it was nice to have someone stand up for me. Then the woman from the first inning leans toward me, and I lean forward as well to hear what she wanted to tell me (I was thinking she was going to say it wasn't my fault the wine was spilt) that I was a, I kid you not, "punk ass." When Kenji Johjima hit the go-ahead two-run homer I cheered as loudly as I could, in fiery defiance of the Red Sox fan tyranny (a guy in the row in front, a Mariner supporter, pointed at me and did the hang loose sign and I felt a sense of perverted brotherhood). As Connor and I collected our belongings and made ready for departure, I told him to wait, as I needed to deliver a parting shot jeer of "BACK TO BOSTON!!" It was my last Mariner game of the season, and I definitely went out in style.
Saturday night I went over to Mariah Ahern's for a dinner party which was also attended by Rebecca and Johnny Baggett. We supped on delicious pesto pasta and discussed John's Lutheranism, and watched the sophisticated film Spy Kids. A very nice night wholly comprised of good wholesome fun, as Mariah took to reminding us throughout. It was closed by an impromptu dance party which started innocently as an exhibition of Johnny's pretty horrid music taste from his cell phone, and morphed itself into a little dance-off between him and Mariah, very entertaining though. Being the only person who was not returning to high school there was me. i could not help imagining them having these sorts of things without me being there, and I felt at once jealous and mad at myself for so easily dismissing the change in lifestyle that comes with living in New York City., and how much I am going to welcome that. It is just difficult to cast aside the known commodity of life here, which is removed enough from most senses of the word worry, to a world that will be made up of mostly that word, you know?
Basically two weeks until departure, I hope to make them well-spent.