Underneath the Midnight Sky on Fire
As I have committed myself to a sleepless night -- forfeiting dreams in the hopes of helping Daniel finish his first major post-baccalaureate project (Procrastination, thy name be Carlson!!) -- it occurred to me that this might also be the perfect opportunity for an overdue update. Excuse the freneticism. My last few months have been plagued with stress, drama, and indifference; trying to sum up current events while Daniel mumbles fitfully over his education texts not feet away is rather detracting from my enthusiasm. Ah well, not much else but to carry on....
Now, at midnight-thirty, underneath the midnight sky on fire.
Because you know, the sun doesn't set in Fairbanks. There are no looming mountains in Fairbanks. There also is a distinct lack of cloud cover lately -- a typical summer just skirting the Arctic Circle. Tourists, yes, we have those aplenty, and mosquitoes; that fresh summer scent of clean nature wafts on breezes not unlike those Whittier blusters. So this would be summer again, eh? At least it isn't humid.
The semester ended over a month ago, and since then all I've achieved is my long-rumored promotion to student supervisor at the bookstore -- and a couple doctor visits. Suffice to say that my yet-plastic body is in a period of rebellion and internal upheaval (or so I like to analogize it); at one point just over a week ago, I stopped eating completely, the penultimate portent meaning I needed to see one learned in the medicinal arts. Hopefully in the coming days and weeks, we'll gradually return to a semblance of homeostasis. What rubbish, I tell you!
Yes, work is unchanged, I mean, unhinged, I mean...well. It's a source of income, frustration, and cynical amusement, and I really can't complain. In fact, this past weekend was the Alaska Book Festival, hosted by us truly (in a roundabout way); the event culminated last night with local artist Ray Troll performing at the Howling Dog Saloon. Us three chicas sent out to work the vendor booth had a blast, dancing the merchandise away and chatting with author Seth Kantner until 2am, only pausing occasionally to beat back the more inebriated would-be customers.
Other than that, my days are consumed by shopping, browsing, trolling, cooking, and vegging in front of whatever game console happens to strike my immediate fancy. In the space of two weeks, I've managed to expand my already-competent kitchen repertoire, and have begun branching out into the wild world of dessert-making...never underestimate the amount of snackfood necessary to sustain a college apartment. On the plus side, I managed to procure a microwave and some other fancy utensils at the local weekend garage sales, and a well-timed trip to Salvation Army saw me transplanting a completely functional computer desk into our Spartan home. Still desperately need a couch and a kitchen table, and Zac's only got a futon on lend from Ed...so it'll be a few more paychecks till we're moved in. How droll.
Also a hot topic in last few weeks has been the issue of my mysterious last name and the equally mysterious "misprint" on my soc. security card...For years I've gotten naught but hostility and nagging from the University about the card, which 'mistakenly' displays my distinctly German last name with only one 'n' at the end, instead of the two with which my family normally spells it. Well, recently trolling Ancestry.com for a bit a fun, I came across my father's record in the national database -- and HIS last name had only one 'n' too! A quick phone call to my mother revealed some family trivia: apparently, my great-grandparents decided at Ellis Island to drop the last 'n' to make themselves appear less foreign. Two generations later, my own parents added it back in for flair, except it would seem now that somewhere the legalization paperwork got crossed. Although my birth certificate has two 'n's at the end, my father's and my social security card only have one, whereas my sisters and mother are fine. The identity crisis is still being waged :)
Moving on, moving on....Dan, as you may have noticed, is officially in grad school, and currently stuck in a whirlwind month-long semester of classes that run five days a week, four to eight hours day. Of course, no sooner have I therein discovered my own reluctances about entering the Education Masters program than do I get an email from CHEERS asking when I'm heading back to Sendai. Interesting things to contemplate, yes. I've been desperately missing my kids lately.
And home.
As for the goings-on in that far-off land of mine, aside from fretting desperately about the recent quake, I just have to say a great big NO! to VAMPS. Sorry, folks. I've never really appreciated Hyde solo -- 666 aside -- but this officially goes beyond my taste and forgiveness. Love Addict is deplete, redundant and senseless both in melody and lyrics, especially when considering that Hyde, an artist that *everyone knows* I deeply admire, is possessed of much better skill; personally, I feel this venture is so far an affront to his talent. Alas, if only Ken were so quick to his guitar....In the meanwhile, there are HiGE, Superfly, and Bump to satisfy my whimsies.
In summation, ladies and jellyspoons (oh dear, dear Eddy Izzard), life here is not uninteresting but rather unchanged; little spontaneous moments lend to fragment the monotony of book-work and home-work, and the panic sessions don't disappoint either. Here's to hoping Daniel finishes that monstrosity of a paper by 8am tomorrow (and that I get some sleep before then); here's to hoping I can figure out what's going on after I graduate (What will it be, Sendai?); and here's to hoping my newly concocted curtains a la comforter can help to keep the sunlight at bay -- Nothing. NOTHING is worse than trying to sleep in broad daylight at midnight.And finally, here's to hoping I can pull off a miraculously cool visit when Beth finally makes her way up here in August!!! Yay!
See? Spontaneity, I told ya.
Now, at midnight-thirty, underneath the midnight sky on fire.
Because you know, the sun doesn't set in Fairbanks. There are no looming mountains in Fairbanks. There also is a distinct lack of cloud cover lately -- a typical summer just skirting the Arctic Circle. Tourists, yes, we have those aplenty, and mosquitoes; that fresh summer scent of clean nature wafts on breezes not unlike those Whittier blusters. So this would be summer again, eh? At least it isn't humid.
The semester ended over a month ago, and since then all I've achieved is my long-rumored promotion to student supervisor at the bookstore -- and a couple doctor visits. Suffice to say that my yet-plastic body is in a period of rebellion and internal upheaval (or so I like to analogize it); at one point just over a week ago, I stopped eating completely, the penultimate portent meaning I needed to see one learned in the medicinal arts. Hopefully in the coming days and weeks, we'll gradually return to a semblance of homeostasis. What rubbish, I tell you!
Yes, work is unchanged, I mean, unhinged, I mean...well. It's a source of income, frustration, and cynical amusement, and I really can't complain. In fact, this past weekend was the Alaska Book Festival, hosted by us truly (in a roundabout way); the event culminated last night with local artist Ray Troll performing at the Howling Dog Saloon. Us three chicas sent out to work the vendor booth had a blast, dancing the merchandise away and chatting with author Seth Kantner until 2am, only pausing occasionally to beat back the more inebriated would-be customers.
Other than that, my days are consumed by shopping, browsing, trolling, cooking, and vegging in front of whatever game console happens to strike my immediate fancy. In the space of two weeks, I've managed to expand my already-competent kitchen repertoire, and have begun branching out into the wild world of dessert-making...never underestimate the amount of snackfood necessary to sustain a college apartment. On the plus side, I managed to procure a microwave and some other fancy utensils at the local weekend garage sales, and a well-timed trip to Salvation Army saw me transplanting a completely functional computer desk into our Spartan home. Still desperately need a couch and a kitchen table, and Zac's only got a futon on lend from Ed...so it'll be a few more paychecks till we're moved in. How droll.
Also a hot topic in last few weeks has been the issue of my mysterious last name and the equally mysterious "misprint" on my soc. security card...For years I've gotten naught but hostility and nagging from the University about the card, which 'mistakenly' displays my distinctly German last name with only one 'n' at the end, instead of the two with which my family normally spells it. Well, recently trolling Ancestry.com for a bit a fun, I came across my father's record in the national database -- and HIS last name had only one 'n' too! A quick phone call to my mother revealed some family trivia: apparently, my great-grandparents decided at Ellis Island to drop the last 'n' to make themselves appear less foreign. Two generations later, my own parents added it back in for flair, except it would seem now that somewhere the legalization paperwork got crossed. Although my birth certificate has two 'n's at the end, my father's and my social security card only have one, whereas my sisters and mother are fine. The identity crisis is still being waged :)
Moving on, moving on....Dan, as you may have noticed, is officially in grad school, and currently stuck in a whirlwind month-long semester of classes that run five days a week, four to eight hours day. Of course, no sooner have I therein discovered my own reluctances about entering the Education Masters program than do I get an email from CHEERS asking when I'm heading back to Sendai. Interesting things to contemplate, yes. I've been desperately missing my kids lately.
And home.
As for the goings-on in that far-off land of mine, aside from fretting desperately about the recent quake, I just have to say a great big NO! to VAMPS. Sorry, folks. I've never really appreciated Hyde solo -- 666 aside -- but this officially goes beyond my taste and forgiveness. Love Addict is deplete, redundant and senseless both in melody and lyrics, especially when considering that Hyde, an artist that *everyone knows* I deeply admire, is possessed of much better skill; personally, I feel this venture is so far an affront to his talent. Alas, if only Ken were so quick to his guitar....In the meanwhile, there are HiGE, Superfly, and Bump to satisfy my whimsies.
In summation, ladies and jellyspoons (oh dear, dear Eddy Izzard), life here is not uninteresting but rather unchanged; little spontaneous moments lend to fragment the monotony of book-work and home-work, and the panic sessions don't disappoint either. Here's to hoping Daniel finishes that monstrosity of a paper by 8am tomorrow (and that I get some sleep before then); here's to hoping I can figure out what's going on after I graduate (What will it be, Sendai?); and here's to hoping my newly concocted curtains a la comforter can help to keep the sunlight at bay -- Nothing. NOTHING is worse than trying to sleep in broad daylight at midnight.And finally, here's to hoping I can pull off a miraculously cool visit when Beth finally makes her way up here in August!!! Yay!
See? Spontaneity, I told ya.