Entry: The Twenty-Fifth-- Excerpts From My Travels, Pt. 2
Not because it’s necessary. Not because it’s all that interesting. Not because it’s current--all this stuff is a week old, at least. But because nothing irks me more than a Part I without a Part II. And because I just couldn’t stand for half a week’s worth of collected notes and scribbles to go to waste. Let us continue, then, from where we left off:
ON NEWSPAPERS, REGIONAL DIFFERENCES IN: “Those Boston papers sure do love their Red Sox. Not only did Monday’s Boston Globe sports section feature six separate articles on the team (including a Spanish recap of the previous day’s game), but the top story of the HEALTH & SCIENCE section was an article on the psychology behind the Curse of the Bambino. I kid you not. This is what passes for science in Boston. The article interviewed a plethora of psychologists, who tried to sound important while offering scientific definitions for 'choking,' and explaining how the fans' expectation of failure led to the ball going through Buckner's legs in '86. Although it was interesting, it was also a bit pathetic and mildly disturbing. Philadelphia's not known for its winning teams either, but we don't go around writing articles about the psychological impact of negative fan energy. ”
ON PIRATES, MAGICAL: I am so, so, so good to my cousins. I play whatever game with them they want, and it’s always some make-believe game that involves them trapping me in prison, and feeding me (pretend) nasty food, and torturing me in other miscellaneous ways--they’re very creative. Most recently they were magical pirates. They captured me, of course, and stuck me in a corner, and fed me “food” which they told me made me sick, and then they gave me it “medicine,” except it was actually bad medicine that made me more sick, and then they cast a magic spell that glued me to the floor and put me to sleep. I was going to try to escape, but they cast another magic spell, forcing me to tell all my escape plans in my sleep, and they they foiled them. And whenever I made a suggestion like, “How about you help me escape and trap your mommy pirate and sister pirate in prison instead?” or “How about I steal your magic wand and use it to undo your magic spells?” they shot me down, big time. They especially didn’t like it when I simply tried to bolt for the door (Didn't matter. I couldn’t undo the magic lock, anyhow). Little kids can be so unfair sometimes.
ON PLAYS, ANTAGONISTIC: “So you’ve already heard about Antony and Cleopatra. Love, power, death, drunkenness, eunuchs, cheesy metaphorical globes, Emily filled you in on at all. What she didn’t mention, though, was the pre-play, a ten minute short that was basically one long bust on Philadelphia. Not a clever sort of bust, mind you, just a series of inane complaints, like our drugstores don’t carry aspirin and our waitresses screw up orders. A whole bunch of random stuff like that. They even went as far as comparing Philadelphia to Baltimore, which I thought was a bit much. Very disappointing, especially when compared to the Shakespeare. Now there's a man who can write comedy without having to step on other people's toes.”
ON QUOTES, QUOTABLE: “
‘I am a peaceful monument of Zen.'
- Emily, repeatedly, as we sat stuck in traffic after our bus driver decided to take the 'scenic route'* from lovely Palisades into New York City
I have since borrowed this quote to be a personal mantra of sorts, a tool for self-relaxation. It came in handy several times this past Monday morning alone, as I saw what havoc was wrought during my absence at work/camp. 'I am a peaceful monument of Zen. I am a peaceful monument of Zen.' Try it; it works. It’s better than ‘woozah’ at least**.”
ON RASPBERRIES, SCAMS AND: “The second day of my trip, I went raspberry picking up in Northern Massachusetts with my cousin and uncle. Brought back memories of when I was a little kid and my Dad had raspberry plants all over the backyard, which I could pick off and eat right there in the garden. It was definitely fun, even though they charged you to take home the raspberries you'd picked yourself, toiling 'neath the burning midday sun. Quite a scam those raspberry people have going, quite the scam.”
ON SICKNESS, DEBILITATING: “Just so it doesn’t sound like my vacation was all fun and games, I feel like I should mention the awful, horrendous, yucky cold I had. The first night I was in Boston, it kept me up three hours, the mucus dripping down from my nasal cavity into my throat. Of course, I probably wouldn’t have slept too much anyway, on that inch-thick foam pad laid upon a hard wooden floor. Blech. I would go into more detail, but how much sympathy can I really elicit for something now two weeks in the past? The lesson here is that I need to be more proactive in updating my LiveJournal, so that when something crappy happens to me, I can draw in the compassion when it’s relevant, rather than weeks later."
ON SQUARES, THE TOURING OF: “Tuesday night. Searching for dinner. So unnecessarily complicated, so unnecessarily hard. Greg had told there were plenty of places to go to eat: Harvard Square, Davis Square, Porter Square, up Mass Ave-- and that's only a partial list. I said we could stop anywhere; I was fine with whatever. I ought to have been more specific. Here’s what happened, four or so times over:
Greg: So this is [name] square.
Me: Okay, so can we stop here?
Greg: You can see there’s a Spanish/Mexican place, a burger shop, a Korean place… do you see anything you like?
Me: I don’t know. Can we get out of the car and…
Greg: Oops, we’ve driven by it all. Well, that’s all right. [Name] square is right up ahead; we can check things out there…
At one point Siyuan chimed in to tell us that she knew of a great Japanese restaurant... back in North Andover, which we had left half an hour ago. We probably drove by every restaurant north of the city before we finally ended up parked illegally in Harvard Square. Then lesson here: when given the chance, Greg will always, always opt to keep on driving and showing off the luscious suburban landscape, rather than stopping. We drove around for over an hour, just trying to find food, but I think it made Greg happy, so I'm okay with it.”
ON SWATTIES, BOREDOM AND: “An observation from Tuesday night’s experience: Swatties aren’t always the best at finding things to do. But they’re great people to do nothing with. When we weren’t stressing over what-can-we-do-in-Boston-on-a-Tuesday-night-in-the-middle-of-summer-with-no-reservations-and-no-money-and-Greg-needs-to-be-home-by-midnight?!?!, I enjoyed myself, a lot. It seemed like things became a lot easier once we realized we weren’t going to doing anything exciting, and we could just enjoy one another’s company for what it was. It was great to just sit around and watch baseball with Greg, and I especially enjoyed catching up with Siyuan, who I was afraid I wouldn't be able to see, after she didn't make it down here in June. That said, next time I take a trip up to MA, I’ll make the plans ahead of time. Myself. In detail. So then we can enjoy the best of both worlds.”
So that about wraps things up, as far as this chapter of my summer goes. I’d like to thank everyone who made this trip possible: my brother, for choosing to take his class at Brown; my grandparents, for paying for it; my parents, for driving me (one way); both my aunts and uncles and all my cousins, for giving me food, lodging, and entertainment; Emily and her wonderful and interesting family for doing the same; Greg and Siyuan for hanging out and taking me out on the town (sort of); Martin Lawrence and Will Smith for providing quality cinematic antics; Peter Pan Railways for having a silly name, yet providing travel at a reasonable cost; Morris and Eugene; and Jay on the T (hope you dumped that girl, man. She was nothing but trouble, and ugly too). Plus whomever else I might have forgotten. I couldn’t have done it with out you all. It was a great time.
*Well, as scenic as one considers North Jersey (“The Embroidery Capital of the World”) to be.
**If you don’t understand the “Woozah” reference, that's all right. Consider yourself lucky.
ON NEWSPAPERS, REGIONAL DIFFERENCES IN: “Those Boston papers sure do love their Red Sox. Not only did Monday’s Boston Globe sports section feature six separate articles on the team (including a Spanish recap of the previous day’s game), but the top story of the HEALTH & SCIENCE section was an article on the psychology behind the Curse of the Bambino. I kid you not. This is what passes for science in Boston. The article interviewed a plethora of psychologists, who tried to sound important while offering scientific definitions for 'choking,' and explaining how the fans' expectation of failure led to the ball going through Buckner's legs in '86. Although it was interesting, it was also a bit pathetic and mildly disturbing. Philadelphia's not known for its winning teams either, but we don't go around writing articles about the psychological impact of negative fan energy. ”
ON PIRATES, MAGICAL: I am so, so, so good to my cousins. I play whatever game with them they want, and it’s always some make-believe game that involves them trapping me in prison, and feeding me (pretend) nasty food, and torturing me in other miscellaneous ways--they’re very creative. Most recently they were magical pirates. They captured me, of course, and stuck me in a corner, and fed me “food” which they told me made me sick, and then they gave me it “medicine,” except it was actually bad medicine that made me more sick, and then they cast a magic spell that glued me to the floor and put me to sleep. I was going to try to escape, but they cast another magic spell, forcing me to tell all my escape plans in my sleep, and they they foiled them. And whenever I made a suggestion like, “How about you help me escape and trap your mommy pirate and sister pirate in prison instead?” or “How about I steal your magic wand and use it to undo your magic spells?” they shot me down, big time. They especially didn’t like it when I simply tried to bolt for the door (Didn't matter. I couldn’t undo the magic lock, anyhow). Little kids can be so unfair sometimes.
ON PLAYS, ANTAGONISTIC: “So you’ve already heard about Antony and Cleopatra. Love, power, death, drunkenness, eunuchs, cheesy metaphorical globes, Emily filled you in on at all. What she didn’t mention, though, was the pre-play, a ten minute short that was basically one long bust on Philadelphia. Not a clever sort of bust, mind you, just a series of inane complaints, like our drugstores don’t carry aspirin and our waitresses screw up orders. A whole bunch of random stuff like that. They even went as far as comparing Philadelphia to Baltimore, which I thought was a bit much. Very disappointing, especially when compared to the Shakespeare. Now there's a man who can write comedy without having to step on other people's toes.”
ON QUOTES, QUOTABLE: “
‘I am a peaceful monument of Zen.'
- Emily, repeatedly, as we sat stuck in traffic after our bus driver decided to take the 'scenic route'* from lovely Palisades into New York City
I have since borrowed this quote to be a personal mantra of sorts, a tool for self-relaxation. It came in handy several times this past Monday morning alone, as I saw what havoc was wrought during my absence at work/camp. 'I am a peaceful monument of Zen. I am a peaceful monument of Zen.' Try it; it works. It’s better than ‘woozah’ at least**.”
ON RASPBERRIES, SCAMS AND: “The second day of my trip, I went raspberry picking up in Northern Massachusetts with my cousin and uncle. Brought back memories of when I was a little kid and my Dad had raspberry plants all over the backyard, which I could pick off and eat right there in the garden. It was definitely fun, even though they charged you to take home the raspberries you'd picked yourself, toiling 'neath the burning midday sun. Quite a scam those raspberry people have going, quite the scam.”
ON SICKNESS, DEBILITATING: “Just so it doesn’t sound like my vacation was all fun and games, I feel like I should mention the awful, horrendous, yucky cold I had. The first night I was in Boston, it kept me up three hours, the mucus dripping down from my nasal cavity into my throat. Of course, I probably wouldn’t have slept too much anyway, on that inch-thick foam pad laid upon a hard wooden floor. Blech. I would go into more detail, but how much sympathy can I really elicit for something now two weeks in the past? The lesson here is that I need to be more proactive in updating my LiveJournal, so that when something crappy happens to me, I can draw in the compassion when it’s relevant, rather than weeks later."
ON SQUARES, THE TOURING OF: “Tuesday night. Searching for dinner. So unnecessarily complicated, so unnecessarily hard. Greg had told there were plenty of places to go to eat: Harvard Square, Davis Square, Porter Square, up Mass Ave-- and that's only a partial list. I said we could stop anywhere; I was fine with whatever. I ought to have been more specific. Here’s what happened, four or so times over:
Greg: So this is [name] square.
Me: Okay, so can we stop here?
Greg: You can see there’s a Spanish/Mexican place, a burger shop, a Korean place… do you see anything you like?
Me: I don’t know. Can we get out of the car and…
Greg: Oops, we’ve driven by it all. Well, that’s all right. [Name] square is right up ahead; we can check things out there…
At one point Siyuan chimed in to tell us that she knew of a great Japanese restaurant... back in North Andover, which we had left half an hour ago. We probably drove by every restaurant north of the city before we finally ended up parked illegally in Harvard Square. Then lesson here: when given the chance, Greg will always, always opt to keep on driving and showing off the luscious suburban landscape, rather than stopping. We drove around for over an hour, just trying to find food, but I think it made Greg happy, so I'm okay with it.”
ON SWATTIES, BOREDOM AND: “An observation from Tuesday night’s experience: Swatties aren’t always the best at finding things to do. But they’re great people to do nothing with. When we weren’t stressing over what-can-we-do-in-Boston-on-a-Tuesday-night-in-the-middle-of-summer-with-no-reservations-and-no-money-and-Greg-needs-to-be-home-by-midnight?!?!, I enjoyed myself, a lot. It seemed like things became a lot easier once we realized we weren’t going to doing anything exciting, and we could just enjoy one another’s company for what it was. It was great to just sit around and watch baseball with Greg, and I especially enjoyed catching up with Siyuan, who I was afraid I wouldn't be able to see, after she didn't make it down here in June. That said, next time I take a trip up to MA, I’ll make the plans ahead of time. Myself. In detail. So then we can enjoy the best of both worlds.”
So that about wraps things up, as far as this chapter of my summer goes. I’d like to thank everyone who made this trip possible: my brother, for choosing to take his class at Brown; my grandparents, for paying for it; my parents, for driving me (one way); both my aunts and uncles and all my cousins, for giving me food, lodging, and entertainment; Emily and her wonderful and interesting family for doing the same; Greg and Siyuan for hanging out and taking me out on the town (sort of); Martin Lawrence and Will Smith for providing quality cinematic antics; Peter Pan Railways for having a silly name, yet providing travel at a reasonable cost; Morris and Eugene; and Jay on the T (hope you dumped that girl, man. She was nothing but trouble, and ugly too). Plus whomever else I might have forgotten. I couldn’t have done it with out you all. It was a great time.
*Well, as scenic as one considers North Jersey (“The Embroidery Capital of the World”) to be.
**If you don’t understand the “Woozah” reference, that's all right. Consider yourself lucky.