Until Next Year

Well folks, last blog post of 2010! I hate to judge a year before it's officially over (we still have 11 hours to go! A lot can happen!), but I've been thinking a lot about the past twelve months. To say that 2010 was a bad year is to deny its many blessings. I have fallen in love; I have gotten to know my sister-in-law and through her I am learning about the man my brother was; I have grown closer to many friends, reconnected with others, and have realized what wonderful friends I really do have-- they have been so incredibly supportive during this whole year; I realized how precious our health is, and am thankful for the relatively good health of myself, my family, and my friends. But I suppose that physics law-- about equal and opposite reactions-- holds true. To see and gain these blessings, I paid a price. I lost several people who I loved and who were close to me, through death and falling-outs. I nearly lost my dad, though we didn't realize how close it was at the time.

Still, the more I think about it, the more good I find in 2010. Of course, the bad things this year were really, really bad. I felt low and demoralized for most of the summer, and the spring was a chaos of emotions ranging from the highest of highs to low despair sometimes both conflicting within a single moment. But 2010 was also the year of my Shakespeare independent study, it's the year that I've (almost) completed a thesis, it's a year that I finished my coursework for my masters, that I got a 4.0 for my first semester ever, that I learned to paint with acrylics, that I moved into this wonderful house. The year I discovered Mumford and Sons and Laura Marling music, that I started watching DS9, that I helped out with the 48 hour film fest, that I laughed over silly things like Sesame Street and Bill Nye. The year of a wonderful amazing trip to Britain complete with three professional Shakespeare plays, a stay in a castle, archery, and the Doctor Who exhibit. The year where I got both Muzzy (in January) and Muzzy II (at Christmas), so that I can learn another language with a giant green alien. A year where, even just last night, I gave and received Christmas presents with new friends and old friends grown closer.

A year where I have had plenty to eat, lots of time to read, to think. I learned to trust my own instincts instead of listening to other people, to find out the truth for myself. I suppose, too, I learned to trust myself more completely than ever before, which is a big thing. I had time for me, but also time to let love blossom, and to let wounds heal. And really, that's a lot.

So, farewell 2010. Hope to see you all safe and happy in 2011.

Believe.

"Frog Leg Lunch": A Christmas Present for You All

Christmas Eve. I must have grown-up, because today no longer seems as interminably long as it did when I was a little girl, waiting for night-time and Santa Claus. Presents are nice, but I think part of growing up is realizing that material objects are just nice ornaments to the necessities of life. I appreciate them, of course, and will never turn down a present, but in the end all I need is food in my stomach, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and the love of true friends. I have that, and I am content. In fact, I've come to realize that I like Christmas Eve more than Christmas itself. I love all of our traditions old and new-- tortilla soup for dinner, going to Christmas Eve service at St. Johns, and, most especially, watching Muppet Christmas Carol with my family.

Since the Muppets have always been a major part of my Christmas celebration, I decided to give you, my friends, an early Christmas 'gift.' Below is a paper I wrote when I was fourteen years old and a freshman in high school. For a bit of context, the paper was a handwritten project completed over two class periods-- and could only be written in class. Every freshman had to write on the prompt, "If you could have lunch with one figure-- fictional, historical, or living-- who would it be and why?" We had to give reasons and explain them in order to get a good grade. It's also helpful to know that I attended Jefferson City High School, but since there are so many students the freshman are taught in a building called Simonsen. Also, this was before the Swamp Days movie came out about the origins of a certain frog. None of the spelling or punctuation has been changed. And now, without further ado...

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Simonsen City Tribune:
Frog Leg Lunch

Hello Simonsen City readers'. Last week I informed you that I could have dinner with anyone: living, dead, historical, fictional, good, or evil. Thank you for all your suggestions, but I made my own choice.

To begin, I walked tentively into the dimly-lit Sardi's, a famous restaurant in New York and set for Muppets' Take Manhatten, to meet the one I had chosen to interview. I was led to a booth to wait. A few minutes later, an army of Kamakaze butterflies invaded my stomach as I heard a small, unique, unforgettable voice at the podium say, "Kermit the Frog here." I know you must be wondering why I would choose to have dinner with Kermit the Frog when I could have picked from any other figure known to man, nevertheless, I feel confident in my reasoning.

First, I decided to pick someone nearly everyone has heard about. Although nearly everyone has heard of Osama bin Laden, I decided to go for a more gentle approach. I wanted to have dinner with someone lovable. Kermit the Frog was just one among Mickey, Minnie, Elmer Fudd, and others. There was so much to consider!

Secondly, I wanted someone who was sophisticated and gifted in the arts. This cut out Ronald McDonald and the Easter Bunny. Kermit was still in the running. Still, there were so many choices.

Then, I wanted someone with a more closed personal life so I could learn new things about them. I wanted to be able to peel them like a mandarin orange. This eliminated Santa Claus, Mickey Mouse, and Minnie Mouse.

Next, I wanted someone who influenced me in a positive way. This took Elmer Fudd of my list. Kermit the Frog was now at the top of my list. Now I had to figure out how this frog encompassed these high standards.

First I needed to know how Kermit influenced me in a positive way. With all the movies he was the star of in mind, I reached to the far reaches of my brain, past the dustbunnies, then I realized the answer was right in front of my nose. Kermit was where I got my optimistic outlook on life. I rarely saw Kermit's face downcast or depressed. Kermit was the one who came up with radical ideas' that always ended well. As Kermit told of Tiny Tim being buried so he could always watch the ducks on the river in A Muppet Christmas Carol my heart soared to hear Dickens words come out of that frog's mouth in his unique "never-give-up" tone. When Kermit cries (which is hardly ever) I cry, but when Kermit smiles, I smile back. Kermit does have a positive influence on me.

Secondly, I needed to know how Kermit was sophisticated. I knew to answer to that almost immediately. Kermit the Frog was sophisticated because of all the movies' he'd been in. He must have read the novels before getting parts in A Muppet Christmas Carol and Muppet Treasure Island. Kermit knew how to solve crimes, take a road trip, and work in a restaurant in Manhatten. All these experiences lead to one very complex frog. This answer took care of the next question. Kermit was gifted in the arts because of all the movies he was in. He was a gifted actor and singer, take his heart-warming song "The Rainbow Connection."

Next, I had to question how much I knew about Kermit's personal life. Just as I suspected, the tabloids did not have reports on Kermit nearly as often as on other celebrities. Consequently, there were plenty of unanswered question about his life. Kermit's relationship with Miss Piggy is common knowledge, but just how deep did it go? Was their love a rainpuddle or a well? Would I have a celebrity engagement to report to my readers'? More importantly I wondered about Kermit's childhood. He obviously had siblings since he has a nephew named Robin. I pondered what their names were. I decided to ask Kermit how he got to be famous. It seemed strange that Kermit's siblings, who must be gigantic, talking frogs, blended into the woodwork.

Finally, I had to question my choice to see if he was in fact lovable. I concluded that he possessed lovable qualities shortly after picturing his avacado-green skin and his friendly, familiar voice. Most of all it was his good nature, the way he stayed with crabby Miss Piggy through it all, and his optimistic outlook on life that made Kermit the perfect dinner date.

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Merry Christmas everyone!

Glad of What Keeps Me Afloat

The past week has been full of reconnections, and I feel so lucky to have the friends I do, even if I only see some of them once in a blue moon. My friends come from everywhere, but with Christmas cards and telephone calls and e-mails from afar, they remind me I am loved. With long conversations over hot chocolate or white wine, they expand my ideas of the possible. On Tuesday I caught up with Mr. Howarth, my favorite high school teacher, when he invited me to attend a Project Enlightenment meeting as a guest speaker (do I feel old! Speaking at a club meeting when not that long ago I was in the club!). Last night, as I sat with Carter in our usual pub, the Hawk and Dove, snug and warm with a fire in the fireplace, caught up in good conversation about Renaissance texts, Shakespeare, family, the 18th century, paper, Grizzle, and a million other things, I received-- quite unexpectedly-- text messages from three dear friends essentially just to say they were thinking of me. Returning home I found an e-mail telling me that I am loved by the best of men. Today I had lunch with a good friend from college, followed by a long, soul-reviving online conversation with one of my best friends. Two nights ago I read the Christmas chapter of Little House in the Big Woods, and tonight we will watch Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas. Our Christmas tree overflows with gifts, and our kitchen is full of food, and for these things I am so grateful.

Found this song today ("The Water" by Johnny Flynn, with my favorite singer/songwriter Laura Marling), thanks to my conversation with Carter, and I love it. Happy Christmas Knickumknackums, everyone!

Daydreams, Gingersnaps

My hands smell like cloves and cinnamon, and soon the house will, too. Gingersnap dough is cooling so we can roll it into little balls and dip them in sugar and bake them. Cookies were always my favorite part of Christmas, except with only three of us many cookies go to waste, so in recent years we've stopped making so many. But gingersnaps are always a favorite.

Yesterday found me in Staunton, then Charlottesville to hear the music of Zach Laliberte. He's a friend of Zan and Lys, and he had booked a gig at a wonderful little restaurant/bar called The Maya. Best mac and cheese ever, seriously. Also, fantastic ambiance and, with Zach there, amazing music. If you haven't already seen it, you should check out the music video Zan and Lys made of his song Daydream.

There are moments where everything seems perfectly at ease and all I can think and feel is happiness. The past two days have been full of such moments. Last night, listening to Zach play and sing in a room filled with people I knew or wanted to know, with the lights low, candles flickering on the exposed brick, a dry cider at hand-- I felt lulled finally into a calm which has eluded me the past few weeks. And after he finished playing we all talked of around the world-- India, China, South Africa-- things I want to see someday, and which seem so easy to make a reality, when someone else talks of them freely. Then home through the cold, and the moon bright on the snow in the drive; a house full of warm kittens (almost cats now) and chocolates and even more easy conversation.

And even today was filled with beyond-good moments; a morning of milky coffee with lots of sugar, a funny Youtube video, laughter and the most beautiful, perfect Christmas gift.

My heart has rarely felt so full as it has these past two days.

How This Grace Thing Works

A Christmas tree! The one thing my little home in Williamsburg lacks-- abundantly here at my parent's house! No one else was home when I arrived, but the Christmas tree stood proudly in the family room, already lit and garlanded with the angel on top. No presents under it, though, so I put one under the tree to make it look more festive.

Last night was tree decorating night. With A Charlie Brown Christmas in the background and Sphinx asleep under the tree, we dragged out boxes and boxes of ornaments, all collected over many years. The finished product is eclectic; our tree has never been one of the perfect ones, with matching glass baubles and gold finishes. Instead it has everything from a paper hand-drawn creche scene ornament I made when I was five (you can imagine how classy that looks- ha!) to cross-stitched Santas to expensive glass balls and everything in-between.

After the tree is done, Christmas music goes on and I put up the Nativity scene. It's the most important task for me every year. I love unwrapping each figure: the three wise-men, with their gifts and their three camels; the shepherds in the fields by night, and the sheep they keep watch over, and even the drummer boy; the beautiful angel, who looks over all of them. But my favorite pieces are Joseph, the Virgin Mary, and, of course, the baby Jesus. I feel so reverent as I place them in the barn, with the cow who gave up her manger, and the donkey who carried Mary to Bethlehem. Those pieces glow with a special light.

I love all of the trappings of Christmas, presents and cards, holly boughs and mistletoe, candles and cookies-- but I love most of all remembering that for us Jesus was born. Yes, I know technically He was born in June, and Christianity just co-opted a pagan holiday and called it the nativity of Christ, but regardless, I still feel the grace of God every Christmas season. I think it's because, no matter whether you celebrate for religious or secular reasons, Christmas is about love and thinking of others before yourself. Gifts are given out of kindness, almost everyone seems a little happier. It's a time to reflect on those in your life who make you happiest, to strengthen friendships both old and new. A time to show unlimited love to humankind simply because we're all human. We all bear heavy burdens, and it's up to each of us to lighten that load for those around us-- no one else will do it for us.

Frankly, I'm not a very good Christian, because I don't believe there is only one way to God (which of course, a Christian in the truest sense must believe that Heaven can only be reached through an acceptance of Jesus Christ). I don't think I'm wrong in my Christian beliefs, but I don't think that anyone who tries to reach for the divine can go about it in the wrong way, so long as they have good intentions. Certainly, religions contradict each other and you may say that these irreconcilable differences void one or another religion, but I think that God is an eternal, unlimited being, available to each of us. And I think all that we can do is try to make Earth a better place through our own actions and our love of each other. And in the end, isn't that what most religions are about? Love one another, forgive each other our trespasses, love God, embrace the divine in each and every human being. Only through our harmony with ourselves and each other can we really find God and create the peaceful world we dream of.

Maybe, to quote a Mumford and Sons song, "that's exactly how this grace thing works."

Sunshine and Snow

Yesterday was spent contentedly indoors, watching the falling snow and writing my thesis. I only got out in the morning to pay a visit to CW Rockefeller Library. As they will no longer let me check books out (WM borrowing privileges end during breaks), I took an hour or so yesterday to transcribe useful information from one of their research reports. Then back through the beautiful, soft snow to my cozy house where I wrote and wrote and wrote with a cup of tea and cinnamon apples. Sixteen pages in two days! And, once I correct the margins, those sixteen will instantly morph into at least nineteen (I'm weird, I like to have narrow margins to fit more on a page... it's the opposite of padding a paper, I suppose).

I'm realizing that right now I'm happier than ever; the past two days of intensely writing my thesis have been bliss. How I love getting lost in the eighteenth-century! I even read most of The Sylph the other night when I couldn't sleep, and now I can't put it down. As if such joy weren't enough, there are gifts abound! I've wrapped so many little boxes and bought so many treasures and even made a few. They are like pieces of delicate candy, beautiful and sweet, in piles on my table with ribbons and extra paper strewn everywhere and Christmas cards begging to be written, addressed, and sent.

Today all the snow has gone. The sun shines brightly, though the wind bites. I ventured out to mail some Christmas gifts and felt I would die of exposure walking through the parking lot. I think I preferred the clouds and snow, which is a big thing coming from me. Normally I crave the sunlight, but it's easier to hunker down with my books when the world is covered in white and lit with a soft grey. I almost can't wait for nighttime when the world will be lit in lamps and little sparkling Christmas lights.

A Discovery and a Holiday Party

I have discovered Harbour Coffee. I know it's been here in Williamsburg for a good long while now, but somehow I always manage to skip on past it in favor of Aroma's or the Daily Grind. Yesterday, though, my friend Megan and I decided to try somewhere new. She's back in town for Christmas (yay!) and neither of us wanted to face the hordes of people inundating Aroma's these days, and since campus hosted their Yule Log ceremony last night the Daily Grind seemed out, too. So we decided to try Harbour. I must say, I am delighted. I got a hot chocolate, and-- next to the Caffe Nero hot chocolate-- it might be the best I've had. Besides being rich and chocolately, I swear I could taste marshmallows in there. Will return for more... maybe even later today. Yum.

After a wonderful long time spent with Megan over hot chocolate and then in the cushy chairs at Barnes and Noble, I headed over to Anna's Holiday Party. Oh. My. Goodness. She had gone all out with the food-- FANTASTIC spanakopita, Swedish meatballs, crab cakes, and bacon-wrapped scallops. And it was so nice to see everyone. With our busy schedules and the fact that most of us don't have class anymore, I rarely see the other history graduate students. But Ben and Fio showed up, which made me so happy, and Lindsay, who I haven't seen in forever, and I even got to spend a lot of time talking to Karim about, well, my thesis, but she seemed so into it! I don't think I've ever enjoyed a history-student party more. Especially the bacon-wrapped scallops.

Then, Zan, Mike, and I started watching the new Doctor. So far... I like him. I love his companion, Amy, and she makes me want red hair so much (red hair has always been a secret dream of mine, since I first started idolizing Elizabeth I when I was 10). But he's... different from Tennant, but still very lovable. And still bad-ass. A madman with a box, if you will. Different but good. Maybe it portends how next year will end up.

Back to the thesising-- I got four more pages written last night!

Bath-Sick, Again

It all started a few nights ago when I had a dream that everyone in my study abroad program decided to take another three months abroad. For some reason, we all had the money and inclination, and wanted badly to recreate our experience so we packed up and arrived in Bath for a second semester abroad. I had arrived a few days early and was hanging out with my friend Andrew at his house in Prior Park, which for some reason was on the ocean. Then Shea called and said she was almost to Nunes, so I left and walked around the town for awhile-- it looked just as Bath had always looked, and I thought, "I love that I still know my way around; here I am at the top of Milsom!" I woke up just as I unlocked the door to Nunes, where I would climb the 63 steps up to Flat 5. Now, I can't get Bath out of my head. I miss the place and the people terribly. I miss my flat and flatmates; I miss heading out to a pub. I miss Waitrose, and Opa. I miss passing Po Na Na on my way home, and I miss that at the intersections I needed to look the opposite directions. I miss the towpath. I miss our week in residence at Oxford and the covered market there. I miss my tutors and my friends. I even miss the food trucks that came out at night.

It probably doesn't help that I listen to BBC Radio 1 so often. Today, a man said he was at a pub having a shandy and I remembered my one experience with a shandy after my nine mile Dorset hike. I really should have had water. Then I spent some time on the ASE website, looking a pictures and reading class descriptions. And the other day I saw my friend Beth, who spent the last semester in France, and had just arrived in from London. Oh, London.

I think I'm also a little, well, bored in Williamsburg. I have plenty to do, that's for sure, but I'm tired of telling people about my thesis and about my microfilm. Those things are dynamic for me, but not exactly thrilling and certainly not the subject of fascinating conversation, unless I happen to be speaking with someone else who adores the 18th century. Usually those topics last about 10 seconds before the other person is done. Sigh. And so, Bath.

Lots is happening, though. Last night Zan and I finished Little Women (which always makes me cry), the other day I had a mini-party and we all watched Muppet Christmas Carol, I've begun fashioning clay figures, I have had coffee with many friends over the past five days, I have almost finished going through the Prince William County records, and I managed to get the book I most need for my thesis through ILL since CW cut off borrowing privileges. Gifts have been purchased, cards are ready to be written, decorations have gone up, and Christmas feels joyful. Everything is on track. But right now, I feel like I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for the next thing to happen. Perhaps once the thesis is done I'll feel like I can really take off, really find out what the world has in store.

First Snow

It snowed last night!-- ever so briefly and lightly, and most of it has disappeared this morning. A little still clung to the branches of trees when I looked out the window just after sunrise, but I think it has gone by now. For once, I didn't expect it. Most winters of my life I compulsively check the weather forecasts when the temperature drops, waiting impatiently to see snow predicted. Last night, I stepped outside with Zan when without warning tiny, perfect flakes fell onto our faces and our coats. It felt like magic. There wasn't enough snow to walk in, to hear that woolen-crunch sound and to walk in each others footsteps to keep from disturbing the field of white, but even so when I got out of my car alone last night and began towards the house, the silence had that snow quality to it. The absolute silence of snow, how every sound seems softened, muted. It feels peaceful.

Peace would be good right now. I've worked myself into a bit of a tizzy the past week. I want to work on Christmas gifts (and I want them to be the perfect gifts-- I take great joy in finding/creating the perfect gifts), I want to work on my thesis, and I need to get up to Richmond to read a few more reels of microfilm. And last night I got a flat tire, so there's that to deal with, too. I think I'm done with applications for now, so that's helpful, but I find that I'm sleeping poorly at night, tossing and turning, waking up in a cold sweat, and then waking up for good about an hour before my alarm, unable to fall back asleep. I would take afternoon naps, but I don't feel like I have time. I think I've unnecessarily put a lot of pressure on this holiday season to be perfect, and I realize it's only in my mind, so I'm trying to take a breath and let it go... but with everything else going on, it's difficult.

I'm very full of thoughts and I wish to quiet them long enough to enjoy the season. Perhaps a little more snow would do the trick.

For We Need a Little Christmas

I have a fireplace with a mantle this year. Clearly, it begged for stockings.

And so it was that last night, after watching a good chunk of The Santa Clause-- because who doesn't love Bernard?-- I found myself in Target buying stocking hangers, lighted garland, and gift tags. Last night also found me in the storage closet of my house, dragging out the Santa plate, the Santa fireplace screen, the (Christmas)tree hugging bear, and some tinsel garland. And the stockings, of course. The place is beginning to look quite festive, if I do say so myself. Zan and I topped everything off with a bowl of stove-popped popcorn and the first half of the movie Little Women, which he had never seen (and still doesn't know the end of, so no spoilers please). Yes, it's girly, but I pointed out that at least now he gets the reference in the Forest Temple in Zelda: Ocarina of Time-- the four Po sisters names are Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Yes, I brought that up because unless you got the joke in the first place that detail is probably something unmemorable. I'm such a nerd.

On another note, tomorrow is my grandpa's 90th birthday!!! Happy birthday, Dzadek!

Today: Christmas shopping/gift-making. Then thesis.

(Photo found here)

Tired, but Happy (and a Touch Nostalgic)

My mind is microfilm mush. Five hours today and five.five yesterday have left me feeling very mushy. Also, very impressed with the record keeping of Prince William County versus Augusta County. Now true, we have more of the Augusta County records, but Prince William County has scribes with much better handwriting, and they put little descriptions of each case next to the case, which is really helpful for scanning over the material. Also, I hugged the microfilm reader today. It's like Stockholm Syndrome.

Additionally, I'm mired in applications for MFA programs and internships. I had forgotten how much time applications actually take, since it has been two years since I've applied for anything. And once they are turned in (which two of them almost are!) I get to wait. Wait, wait, wait. I hate the waiting part. Then *hopefully* I'll have the deciding part. I'm not sure that I will really like the deciding part much more than the waiting part, though, if I get it.

Last night we finished the Tennant episodes of Doctor Who. It felt bittersweet: finally, ready to catch up with the new episodes and the rest of the world, but it was hard to say goodbye to Number 10. I realize that it isn't just the end of this Doctor that makes me sad, but the end of a year. I can't believe we started watching around this time last year. For most of 2010 Doctor Who has been the one constant thing in my life. No matter how horrible my life has felt-- however sad, stressful, or upsetting-- Tennant's Doctor has provided an hour or two of comfort. Even when I felt completely happy and relaxed, the show still served as an anchor in my life for the past year. Yes it's just science fiction, but Doctor Who reminded me that the universe is so much bigger than me and my problems, that I have so much to explore beyond the narrow confines of my little life. And now he has, in the show, regenerated. And while I'm sure I'll like the next doctor, it's sad. A reminder that life goes on, people come and go, and six months from now may be nothing like six months ago. A year can be a lifetime.

But on a happy note, in a few hours we bid November adieu and get to legitimately feel some of that Christmas spirit starting tomorrow! I plan on actually decorating some, working on holiday cards and gifts, and maybe even baking cookies at some point this week. And, though it has been quite warm today, starting tomorrow night we get some cooler temperatures so I can wear my new plaid winter coat.

How Much I Love You

From discovering Rachel's magical healing kisses (especially when applied to the tiny scraped knees of a four-year-old), to turkey cooked in The Green Egg, to my Aunt Nina's delicious tortilla soup, I couldn't have asked for a better Thanksgiving. For the first time in EIGHT years, we made our way to Texas for Bob and Nina's big family Thanksgiving.

I always forget how much I love my family until I'm with them. I hadn't seen Lauren, Rachel, and Becca since I was fifteen, which is entirely too long. I hadn't seen Hannah and Katy since the summer, though that was sad and brief, and Josh, well, Josh. He's like a brother. Somehow, though, when we're all together we just fall right in with each other like the oldest of friends. Strange for people who have never lived very near each other, and Josh was meeting some of the cousins for the first time. Yet from the first moment of walking into the house, greeted by Rachel in her pink apron working on an apple almond crumble pie, I felt surrounded by love. It's like as we grow older we all find more common ground. Our childish shyness has worn away, and within minutes we're talking frankly with each other about our lives. We have nothing to fear because underneath it all, we know that we love each other. That nothing will change that. But we're getting to know each other as adults, too, for the first time. I found that Becca and I could talk for hours about history and theory, as well as about boyfriends and parties; with Lauren I could discuss family and health; with Katy almost anything at all instantaneously. And I love Rachel's free spirit and her demeanor belies such a vivaciousness. And in the pictures, how we all look like each other-- tall and dark-haired, except for Josh and Hannah with their blond hair and beautiful eyes. Definitely-- no matter our coloring-- all Fine's. We all come from other places, too, and carry a separate heritage the others do not share, but something strong runs through us and connects us all. And those separate heritages fascinate me, too, for those I've met from the other sides of all of my cousins families and even my own are the most amazing, creative people.

Thanksgiving was wonderful-- so many pies!!! Also sweet potatoes, two kinds of stuffing, spinach and mushrooms, cranberry sauce, chile rellano, and turkey. During the day we snacked on amazing cheeses and dips, a bowl of spiced apples, and, of course, my Aunt Nina's tortilla soup-- the best soup in the whole world. I got to catch up with my Aunt Nina and Uncle Bob, Aunt Mary, Aunt Dixie, and Auntie Ellyn-- who I will always think of as the embodiment of the grandmother I never met, for she is poised and graceful as I've always imagined Grandma Fine must have been, from the stories. We drank red and white wines, we watched part of Mary Poppins, we sat in little circles and talked, Rachel gave me a beautiful pair of shoes which didn't fit her (for this, I will without a doubt love her forever-- pretty sure I exclaimed "Oh my God, you're the best cousin ever!!!"), we watched the Cowboys vs. Saints game (Hannah's boyfriend was a Saints fan in Dallas so he went outside to cheer their win), and as we gathered around our Thanksgiving meal, we prayed in Hebrew, thanking God for everything we have and remembering those lost to us this year.

At the end of the night, Lauren got out the guitar, and I sat in the living room next to Becca listening while she and Rachel played and sang. They started with slower songs, Regina Spektor and a Cat Powers song called "Sea of Love". Slowly, more and more people gathered. Uncle Bob joined in and then another guitar was brought out for my Uncle Pat, my Aunt Dixie sat down at the piano, and before I knew it we all were singing "How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)" at the top of our lungs. And in that happy gathered circle, I felt at home. And I'm so, so thankful that this is my family.

(Cousins and boyfriends, Fine's and Reisman's, LOVE)

An Inch

Remember back in June when I wrote that seeing a play at the RSC in Stratford reminded me what I wanted to do with my life? Well, I signed a contract with The American Shakespeare Center, and this summer I am going to be a dramaturgy/production assistant intern at the Blackfriars! It feels like yes, finally, I'm going in the direction of my dreams, as that quote goes. I'm going to work in a professional theatre! As a dramaturg!

Maybe this is the start of something...

Maybe I was dreaming of a garden growing far below

During the day, around people, I feel complete and whole and certain. But in my quiet moments, or after the lights go out, my mind becomes like a crystal flute smashed on the floor, with shimmering pieces thrown everywhere. I try to pick them up, but every time I nearly have one it cuts me and I drop it again to try another piece. Each thought a shattered fragment, bits that I remember, shards that I worry about. Mostly, I wonder what to do next year, what options are open to me, what options will be open to me, and what I should choose. I don't even know my best case scenario-- I don't know what I want. There are so many internships and programs I want to apply to, but what if nothing pans out, where do I go? Do I stay? Is that what is best for me? What if by some miracle every place I thought I might want accepted me-- even then I don't know what I would do. No matter what happens, I must believe I'll end up where I'm meant to end up, and if I sort out my thoughts maybe I'll find that I know the answers, but after all I've never liked change. A friend wrote to me that change is only possible in the midst of true catastrophe, and that falling in love is the purest sort of catastrophe. How odd that it changes everything and then makes it difficult to change again. I finish my thesis and then... an ellipses.

Then I worry about my thesis, and finishing it. What I need to read, what I need to outline, what I need to edit. Where to insert this paragraph or that, what should I take out, what should I leave out. What turn of phrase best captures what I mean? Is this sentence too long or too concise? I think of these things even as I try to fall asleep, going over every page in my mind's eye. Then it becomes too much and I drift to the other pieces of my mind. To God, to fate, to choice. To forgiveness, to thankfulness. To falling on my knees weeping with joy and weeping with pain, and how glad I am we are all alive.

The past, the present. Then they entwine with the future. People I've loved, people I've lost, people I hope one day to see again with smiles on our faces, sincere warmth in our hearts and in our embrace. People so far away from me that the distance seems almost insurmountable, some quite literally, others only in my mind. How close we all are to losing each other, to becoming only wisps of air that brush each others cheeks when the wind feels warm and smells of rain or cologne. And we remember and remember, our heavy hearts. And our remembrance affects everything, every decision. So does our love. So does our fear. And does this, then, circle 'round to what will I do next year? Or the year after that? I don't want these pieces to fit together, because this whole seems uncertain, governed by fear as it is. And love. Do they go together? "There is no right decision." Those words comfort me. Right now, there is no decision. There is no choice and there is an abundance of choice. I choose and choose and it makes no difference and it makes all the difference. I type a word. I click a button. I decide.

And in the end there is only desire for everything intangible, which we all imagine must exist in some far away place.

(Photo from here)

Thankful

I know it's not quite Thanksgiving yet, but I am very thankful for my family and their health this year. Not to sound too preachy, but God can be good, even in the midst of a year of loss. He gave life this weekend, and I am so, so grateful for that. The doctors helped, too, of course, so I guess I'm also very grateful for modern medicine :). But sometimes it's just grace that keeps us breathing. And, while we're on the thankful mode, I'm also very thankful for my friends, who send beautiful letters, who call to make sure everything is ok, and who care about not only me but also my family. I feel very lucky and privileged to know them.

On a lighter note, I've been obsessed with these pictures for the past few days. Just click through all 18-- I feel so inspired after looking at them, not only by the clothes but by the photography... the whole ambiance. They make me long for England and Scotland again.

The future is up in the air, and it's scary and exciting.

Birthday Re-Do

The past couple of days have been filled with wonderfulness. On Friday, Zan and I went to dinner at the Baker's Crust where we had a waitress who looked like Abby from NCIS but didn't seem nearly so friendly, then we played Singstar with Steve and Tori. On Saturday I wrote on my thesis for awhile, but decided I needed a break so I curled up in my bed and watched the first half of Fellowship of the Ring. It's such a perfect movie for anytime, happy, sad, with a group, by yourself, need a rest, need to get pumped up by epic-ness... somehow it lends itself to all of this and more. It was kind of nice to curl up in my bed alone to watch a movie-- I haven't done that in ages. On Sunday, I wrote more of my thesis, then went to see SitD's Julius Caesar. Zan did the trailer for it-- you can watch it here. The show lived up to its trailer. I really, really enjoyed it. From the second I walked in and Joel greeted me in the character of Casca, talked about the recent olive oil spill and Julius Caesar's stimulus package, I knew it would be something pretty great. Everyone was really good, and Macs and Nathan stood out especially as Brutus and Marc Antony, respectively. Nathan nailed the Marc Antony speech. So it was good.

But yesterday was the most wonderful of all. First off, I finished a draft of the first chapter (of two) of my thesis. It's at 37 pages, out of a maximum of 70, so it will need heavy editing, but-- it's there! A whole chapter! So I felt pretty good about that. Then it was time for birthday re-do. Let me explain: my real birthday was absolutely terrible. It came at a bad time, in the middle of a bad summer, and on top of feeling grieved and then hurt, I spent it alone because Zan had to work late and none of my friends were in Williamsburg. So, after many months, we have finally gotten around to a birthday re-do. And it was the best birthday ever!

A nice group of us had dinner at Plaza Azteca, with plenty of laughs and one jumbo margarita, Annie and Thomas gave me a McDonald's gift certificate to use on all those Happy Meals I get, and Zan gave me a shirt that I had seen in Disney World and wanted-- it has Figment on it and says "One Little Spark." After dinner, we headed out to go bowling! We hit it lucky and with our college I.Ds didn't have to pay to rent shoes. I'm a terrible bowler, but it was incredibly fun. I got two strikes!!!! And lots of blank frames... the first round I ended somewhere in the 40s, and I think I was in the low 60s during the second round. It didn't really matter (actually, those scores are pretty good for me!), I just felt so happy being with everyone to celebrate my 'birthday.'

You know how there are some times when you look around at your life and realize that everything is pretty perfect?
It was like that.


(Photo found here)

Magic Carpet and Other Thoughts

At yoga class the other night, I couldn't get my mat to roll down completely and so when I looked at my reflection in the mirror what I saw was myself sitting cross-legged and at peace with the edge of the mat curled upwards. It looked a lot like I was riding a magic carpet. It was a nice thought. I like yoga.

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I can always tell how hungry I am by whether or not I think Man Versus Food looks awesome or disgusting. One time, when I hadn't eaten all day except for a handful of trail mix, Adam had a huge hamburger and I wanted it more than anything on Earth and was sooo jealous of him at that moment. When I've eaten a nice, healthy, balanced meal... or even just a bunch of ice cream... and the show comes on, I think it's probably the grossest concept for any show ever. Man Versus Food is like my hunger barometer.
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I love making new friends. Today I'm getting coffee with a new friend, and I'm really excited about it. I'm also glad to be making new friends where I live, since all of my best friends live so far away from me.
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It makes me sad to lose touch with old friends.
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On BBC 1 the other day, they called Congress "the U.S. Parliament." I laughed.
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I have 24 pages of Chapter One of my thesis, but I've been working on it more than the page number increase reflects. I'm continuing to research as I write, and I'm actually editing this one for a change. Moreover, I'm doing so as I go along. I think it's turning out pretty well, so far. Plus, I've been in contact with the Bristol Reference Library and they are going to send me a copy of a primary source that I need. I'm so excited! I love getting mail from Britain!
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I'm an Anglophile. Clearly.

A Concert of Cats

While researching for my thesis, I came across this article.

14 May 1753:11 (924)
Boston Evening Post (Fleet)
BEP(F.753.006

14 May 1753:11 (924)
Paris, Feb. 25. Among other things that serve to draw the
public to the fair of St. Germain, there is a concert of
music performed by cats, who are placed in little boxes, and
all uniformly cloathed, with music books set before them,
and a monkey sitting in the midst of them. At a signal
given by the monkey, all the cats tune their notes, the
great variety of which affords great diversion to the
spectators. A few violins make up part of the concert,
probably to keep the cats in a squalling humour. (We suppose
the monkey is French, and the cats English, by their
obedient behaviour.)


I love history.

(In other news, Why History? has become its own blog. Check it out! Become a follower!)

Now It's November!

First, to wrap up October. For Halloween I dressed up as a dinosaur. They don't sell adult dinosaur costumes (probably dinosaurs aren't 'sexy' enough for most 20-somethings), so I bought a child's large costume and altered it into a dinosaur jacket, dino leg warmers, and dino mitts. I also added foam claws to the hands and feet.



For the Halloween party we went to on Saturday night Zan was a paleontologist.

But then on Halloween itself he had a shoot for CW in which he played a wounded Union soldier with a really gory bullet wound in the face.

Here's a pretty October picture to distract you from the blood and gore.

Halloween festivities this year were fun, too: Last Thursday night, Zan and I went to Megan Castle's annual Halloweentown party, which I have to say has been my favorite part of the past three Halloweens. Again, Megan made wonderful food, some great people showed up, and the cares of the month washed away in a cheesy Disney Channel Original Movie. Then on Saturday I briefly attended the first party I've been to in months to see everyone's costumes-- most were awesome! I love seeing what people come up with each year. Actual Halloween I set out a bowl of candy for Trick-or-Treaters (though the bowl was still very full when I returned home) and I watched a terrible movie called Troll 2 with people at the apartment.

Other October things have gone well, too: on Saturday evening I went to the premiere of two new plays by my new friend, Tori. They were so good; I was really impressed by how thoughtful and well-crafted they were, especially the second of the two called Gossip Well Told. Keep an eye out for these plays-- they are amazing.

And I have 17 full pages of the first draft of my thesis, and know where I'm going with the rest of this chapter. It's been lots of work, but I'm finding myself slightly obsessed with it. When I'm not writing it, I'm thinking of writing it. I even wanted to skip the Halloween party to read up on how Douglass solicited subscriptions for his theatre buildings. See? Obsessed. (I hope it lasts)

But now it's November, and for the first time possibly ever, I'm so excited. Instead of seeing November as a long dull month with nothing in it, I see it as brimming with excitement in the weeks and months ahead. This morning the air had a tinge of winter in it, and the promise of fulfillment in my studies, holidays with family, good food, Thanksgiving fun, Christmas movies, and a joyful spirit.

Why History? Part 4

Today I had a meeting with my adviser, Professor Whittenburg, about my thesis. I think it just might work. Just maybe. Possibly, I will have a draft of the first chapter by November 9th. That's my personal goal. I have an outline-- new and revised-- and two slightly more focused chapters with an epilogue. The trouble now will be fitting it into 70 pages, but Professor Whittenburg said just to write and worry about technicalities later. "Tell your story," he said.

My story. Remember how I said in the last "Why History?" that every person has their side of the story? Well, Professor Whittenburg is the one who first introduced me to that *incredibly important* concept. When I entered William and Mary as a bright-eyed freshman I knew that I wanted to be a history major, so I signed up for Professor Whittenburg's freshman seminar fondly known as "Saturday class." Yes, I had class every Saturday my first semester of college. We met at 9:00 or so in the morning, ate donuts and had a presentation from a student, then headed off in a big white van to some location in the Tidewater area. We went to Jamestown, Westover and Shirley Plantations, James City Courthouse, Historic St. Mary's in Maryland, Yorktown, and a thousand other places in our quest to discover Virginia from 1607 to the Revolution. (If you want to read my NIAHD Journal-- essentially all of the papers I wrote for the class-- click here.)

The first week of the seminar we were assigned three readings: "Environment, Disease, and Mortality in Early Virginia," by Carville V. Earle (found in Thad W. Tate & David L. Ammerman, eds., The Chesapeake in the Seventeenth Century: Essays on Anglo-American Society (1979), pp. 95-125.), "Apathy and Death in Early Jamestown," by Karen Ordahl Kupperman (found in The Journal of American History, Vol. 66, No. 1. (1979), pp. 24-40.), and “The Labor Problem at Jamestown, 1607-18” by Edmund S. Morgan, (found in The American Historical Review, Vol. 76, No. 3 (1971), pp. 595-611.)

All of these readings are on the same subject: why people died in Jamestown. But, even though these authors wrote on the same topic, and the readings came out in the same decade, and all were printed in respectable publications, they couldn't be more different. Which begs the question-- how? Shouldn't they have the same conclusion? Isn't there one right answer? How can the same phenomenon have three extremely different articles written on it? Shouldn't one author be right? Which one is right?

The thing is, none are right. And all are right. In short (VERY SHORT), Earle blames the deaths on the water in Jamestown, getting extremely technical with the science of the environment and the way pathogens work. Kupperman blames the deaths on the fact that the men who settled Jamestown felt like prisoners of war and fell victim to psychological illness. And finally, Morgan blames it on the fact that the men who settled Jamestown were soldiers unused to having to produce their own food or take care of themselves in such an unsettled area. Normally they would pillage or the state would provide sustenance for them.

I think somewhere in all of the readings, combined together, we might begin to scratch the truth of the matter. But the point is, there is no simple answer to history. Moreover, just as these three authors have their three opinions, the men at Jamestown were not homogeneous in their mindsets. Perhaps some did feel like POWs, while others did expect England to send them ships full of food. And perhaps most just succumbed to bad water.

History is sticky and you can't take anything at face value. Behind every story there is another side to the story, as history-- both the actual occurrences and the writing of it-- is filled with complexities and composed of unique individuals with their own ideas and biases. The point of history, as my tutor Leslie told me in Oxford, is to pick a side and argue it as best you can. Believe in what you say. Because you'll be right. But someone else might be right, too. And that's not something you learn in an ordinary high school history class.

Want more proof? Tune in to the next Why History!

From ASE to NYC

And to conclude these two weeks away from Williamsburg, I had a mini-Bath reunion in New York City. My friend Brooke lives just outside the city, so I-- and Shea and Alli-- trained up to New York to see each other. I literally hadn't seen Brooke for over two years, since I said good-bye to Bath for the last time. I hadn't seen Shea and Alli since June. I arrived on Saturday morning, they picked me up at the White Plains station, and then we went shopping at Westchester Mall. This place was ridiculously huge. We actually ran out of time to shop. I only bought a pair of tights, a nice work-type jacket and an on-sale dress, but I tried on probably over fifty items. It was glorious.

After our shopping excursion, we went back to Brooke's house to pick out our outfits for dancing that night. I felt like Meg in Little Women when she shows Belle her dress and Belle basically says, "No, no, I have something else that you should wear." In Meg's words, "The girls dressed me up for fun, and I rather like it." I wore a very short, very tight-fitting black dress of Brooke's with a pair of lovely little red heels, not too high. It was something I probably would never have bought or paired on my own, but I 'rather liked it.'

Brooke's mother made a wonderful homemade chicken pot pie for dinner, and we had a homemade apple tart for dessert, plus champagne and Riesling, and then it was off to the city for dancing at a bar called Mad River. As far as bar's go, it was pretty fun. I'm not much for nightlife-- clubs kind of sketch me out and I'm a terrible dancer-- but no one came up behind me trying to dirty dance or anything, and they played songs I knew, so I actually enjoyed my time. Still, I was glad we were only there for two and half hours or so.

The next day, I trained into the city for lunch with another ASE friend, Kiki. I hadn't seen her since-- goodness, I guess the final tea in Bath, but I don't remember when I last talked to her in person. We had an amazing lunch at a Thai place near Times Square, then she walked with me over to Penn Station and we got a drink in Starbuck's while waiting for my train. It was such a fun afternoon-- we discussed theater, England, boyfriends, roommates, and life in general. We weren't super close when I studied abroad, but in the time since then we've gotten to know each other better via Facebook messages and such, and I'm really glad for that.

ASE introduced me to some really incredible people, and I'm so grateful that those bonds are only strengthening since I studied abroad. I'm realizing more and more that our ASE '08 group of fifty-five share such unique and wonderful memories, and we keep making more together as the years go by. I didn't really appreciate it at the time, but now I know that these are friends that I will keep for life.

Food & Wine & Love (& Birthday!)

Just returned from a fantastic trip to Disney World, where I ate too much, drank good spirits, and celebrated my dad's birthday. And best of all, I spent a wonderful three days with Zan, showing him my favorite place in the world during the Food & Wine Festival.

My favorite part of any Disney trip is the first day: we arrive, we check into the hotel, and then we visit one of the parks, or the Boardwalk, and suddenly all cares melt away. But I think this particular first day-- being with Zan, going to Epcot, getting an Irish cheese plate, a glass of meade, a pint of Guinness, and standing at a table in the shade overlooking the World Showcase-- was perhaps one of the most wonderful moments I've ever, ever experienced. The "with Zan" part is key.

My dad's birthday was also fun: I gave him a plush Stitch jumping out of a plush cupcake which read "Happy Birthday", and a glow-in-the-dark Halloween shirt. I almost got him some Tigger ears, as once upon a time he dressed as Tigger for Halloween, and then I saw an Eeyore toy that I would have gotten if he actually appreciated stuffed animals. We had an extremely tasty dinner at The Yachtsman, and his college roommate joined us full of stories... that was quite the experience, let me tell you. :)

We visited the Magic Kingdom for Wishes, we went to the Animal Kingdom and experienced the best "Kilimanjaro Safari" I've ever been on (there were actually some animals out this time!), we saw lions, tigers, and bats, and rode two "traveling-carnival"-esque dinosaur rides that I had never ridden. We went to Hollywood Studios, ate at Sci-Fi diner, and had the best The Great Movie Ride tour guide I've had in years. He was hilarious; he still loves his job. At Epcot, we met up with our friend Steve who was also (randomly enough) in Disney World, we watched Captain EO, Illuminations Fireworks, rode Soarin' and Nemo and created our own Roller Coaster.

But the Food & Wine Festival definitely, well, took the cake. At the World Showcase in Epcot, each nation, plus many nations not represented in permanent pavilion form, bring out the best of their foods, wines, beers, and mixed drinks. I mentioned the Irish food-- additionally they had a lobster and scallop fisherman's pie. Canada had their Cheddar Cheese soup and ice wine, Chile had a beef and corn pie with a great Cabernet Sauvignon, we got the Peach Schnapps tea and eggrolls in China, a coconut-beef redang in Singapore with Tiger Beer, German Spaetzle and Apfel Strudel and beer, Moroccan falafel and sangria, Belgian mussels and Spanish sparkling wine, plus more! We also tried the new Neapolitan pizza place in Italy-- wow. And there was so much I didn't get to try that I wanted to try.

And to top it all off, last night after we got home, Zan gave me a panda bear necklace. ♥

When I stop to realize it, I am surrounded by love and light. And while Disney World is always fun, the real magic is not the rides, or the food, or the characters. It's the people I'm with, and the love that we share, and the little moments of laughter and joy that we experience together.

Why History? Part 3

When I was fifteen, I went to London for the first time. This was a huge moment for me. London had been the center of my universe since the day I began to learn about the Tudors (Elizabeth I in particular) and Shakespeare. It also had the pros of being the city of Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, and James Barrie’s Peter Pan. Since this time, London has only grown more important in my life; I’ve found a thousand other books, movies, and historical figures that lived there who I have come to idolize. It features quite prominently in my thesis, to the point that I’ve looked up things in archives there. Not just London, but all of England has captured my heart—especially Bath and Oxford— as well as parts of Scotland and Wales. But when I was fifteen, London made an indelible impression.

Perhaps the most important moment in my historical education up to that point occurred in London. Before this moment, history had been a subject in school—one that I enjoyed, but nothing more. That, or it had been not history but historical fiction. Felicity Merriman wasn’t real, nor were the girls in the Dear America series. Even the movies I watched fictionalized reality—Evita, Elizabeth, etc. These people had been real and logically I knew this, but their lives were stories; they were portrayed by actors. In a way, history was nothing more than pretty costumes and an “A” on my report card.

So what happened?

Within the Tower of London, there is a tower called the Beauchamp tower, and here is where Robert Dudley, later Earl of Leicester, was kept imprisoned during part of the reign of Mary Tudor. While there, he carved his name into the stone of his room, as well as an oak tree. As I stood staring at the carved words “Robart Dudley” my dad said, “Just think, all that separates us from him is time. He stood right here, he touched this wall. If we could turn back time we would be standing right next to him.”

This concept floored me. It was as if I was just a little late to meet him. It was the same thing as missing someone by five minutes because you’re running a bit late. That person exists, you just missed them. Robert Dudley had existed, I just missed him. Suddenly, history came alive in a way that it never had before, even through listening to my dad talk about the Civil War battles or watching a movie. History existed personally. These people had all walked, and talked, and felt the sun just as I was doing (it was exceptionally good weather in London that trip). They had good days, bad days, cried, caught colds, laughed, danced, sang, felt embarrassed, felt exhilarated, felt scared, felt comforted, fell in love, fell out of love, slept, ate, drank, everything! They had friends, they had enemies, and they had their side of the story. And I didn’t see it happen to them because I was just a little too late.

Before I had been infatuated with history; now I was falling in love.

Shake The Glitter Off Your Clothes

Opulent. Decadent. Bigger-than-life. Manipulative. Crazy. Exhausting.

I think I used all of these words, mostly in that order, at one time or another over the past four days while I lived it up in Las Vegas with my friend, Emily. How can I even begin to describe this city or my unique experience? Here goes nothing...

Opulent: When we walked into the Wynn I literally thought some French peasants were going to appear with a guillotine to revenge themselves on me for staying somewhere that just reeked with money that could have gone to feed a third world country-- several third world countries-- for years. The place was absolutely gorgeous. Our room-- my goodness. It was amazing. And on the 60th floor (possibly 50th, as the elevator had no rooms in the 40s), and my ears popped during every elevator ride. The lobby was decorated in sparkling mosaics, laid-in wood desks, and to get to the main lobby you had to pass through an atrium that smelled heavily perfumed, had flowered mosaic floors, and little streams with real koi fish.

(Emily in The Wynn)

Decadent: I suppose most of the trip was decadent. The first night we were there, Emily and I went to go see Cirque du Soleil, La Reve, at the Wynn theatre. We sat in the VIP seats, which were leather recliners, had a waitress, a free bottle of champagne, chocolates and chocolate-covered strawberries, and a little backstage TV in front of us. It was jaw-dropping. The show was absolutely beautiful. The story follows a woman who doesn't know whether to fall in love or to resist it. When she falls asleep on a park bench, the Dream King (who I'm just going to go ahead and call Oberon, because he had a little Puck figure with him) appears and throughout the show they explore the various facets of love through dance and choreography. Love is presented as crazy, fun, scary, hurtful, exhilarating, and ultimately something which is worth putting yourself out on a limb for... I really enjoyed it.

After the show, Emily and I went to a club called Blush. We bought some drinks and realized that in Vegas, to sit in a nightclub you need a reservation. Oddly enough, just then a girl named Kashmir called us over and had us sit with her and her friends/co-workers who were part of a marketing group and had a $2,400 tab to use up. They bought the rest of our drinks that night. It was quite an odd experience, I must say. Kashmir was a dear, and a man named Matt seemed nice enough to talk to, but overall, slightly surreal. I did enjoy the free drinks, though. I also enjoyed pleading the time zone difference and leaving at midnight-- it felt like 3:00 AM to my body clock.

The next day, Emily and I had free spa appointments (yes, free!). The spa was gorgeous, and after our massages we spent some quality time in the jacuzzi room. But again, the place was opulently decorated and full of amenities. After the spa, Emily and I went to a lovely little restaurant called "Society at Encore!" and I had the BIGGEST turkey sandwich I've ever eaten in my entire life. It was incredibly tasty, but goodness! I also had some amazing sweet potato fries. Funnily enough, though, Emily and I were trying to save room for our dinner that night at Alex.

Alex is the nicest restaurant in the Wynn. Good God, I could write a whole post just on this restaurant experience. We walked in, were led to our table, and then given little chaise lounges to set our purses on. They gave Emily one for her wallet. There was no detail too small during dinner. The waiters were constantly attentive, gave Emily a new napkin after she left hers on her chair to use the restroom, and refilled our champagne glasses without us noticing. We were given a pre-first-course course that consisted of a butternut squash soup sample, a cheese cracker, and fois gras on toast, then came bread, then our appetizers (I had risotto and Maine lobster tail). After our appetizers came an amuse bouche (chicken and cranberry beans), then our main course (I had duck). After our entrees came a little panna cotta, followed by our desserts, FOLLOWED by our after-desserts-- a little basket of warm honey Madelines and a tray of chocolates. We had no idea there would be so many extra courses, and by the end of the meal the chocolates were exquisite torture. I had eaten so much I thought I might be sick if I tried to take another bite. Then, just as we were leaving, they handed us a box of macaroons. I've never been so full in my life.

Bigger-Than-Life: We woke up the next day intent on seeing the rest of the Vegas strip. We ventured down to Paris Las Vegas for a brunch (which we were both still too full to really enjoy). The buffet, called Le Village, looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast. The architecture of the rest of the hotel was crazy-- it really did look just like Paris. You can even go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I felt like I was in some kind of strange inverted Disney World. After brunch, we crossed the street to Caesar's Palace-- again, bigger than life. The buildings were so tall, the hotel so extensive, the attention to detail striking. Then into The Mirage, past the pirate show at Treasure Island, and over to The Venetian. We were going to take a gondola ride INSIDE THE HOTEL but couldn't find the ticket booth and didn't care that much.

(Le Village Buffet at Paris Las Vegas)

Manipulative: That afternoon, Emily and I walked up to the Forum shops at Caesar's Palace to visit the Anthropologie store (I can't help it). I tried on about 20 shirts and dresses but settled on buying only a pair of tights I had been eyeing online. After our mini-shopping adventure, Emily and I headed back to the hotel. It was getting to be late afternoon, and the sun was setting, but we decided to go sit by the pool-- not in swimsuits or anything, just to be outside. We were comfortably reclining when a voice came over the PA system announcing that the pool area was closed and any Wynn guests needed to leave. We went back inside and sat on a couch in the lobby. Side note: great people watching spot. Anyways, we got to talking about how there is literally nothing to do in these hotels besides eat, shop, and play at the casino. The entire enterprise is geared towards manipulating people into spending money in the casino. The ventilation system is great so the air always tastes fresh, despite all of the smokers. The casino is bright and noisy and exciting. The pool closes before the sun is gone. There is no bowling alley or movie theater or... anything. So, we let ourselves be manipulated.

(Caesar's Palace, Las Vegas)

That's about the time that I lost six of my ten dollars in the slots (three the day before, one at the airport). It's amazing how quickly the money goes. Emily, on the other hand, hit a huge bonus in a Monopoly slot machine and turned her three dollars into $17.73 or so. But once you're up, it's hard to quit. Emily played a few more rounds and her seventeen plus dollars dwindled down, then up! Then down... at $15.99 she decided to call it quits. But, as she noted, it's very addictive. Once you get a small payout, you think you can do better, even though the slots are pure chance, no skill involved. It's easy to see how someone with an addictive personality could become a compulsive gambler. Overall, though, Emily came out up about 8 or so (given the dollars spent the previous day) and I came out down 10. Not terribly good or bad. But the amount of money some people spend!!! There were Blackjack tables with a minimum bet of $500 or even $1000: crazy.

Exhausting: Slots wear thin quickly, though, if you're not into losing huge sums of money. And given the time change which we hadn't really adjusted to and the piles of good food, we were exhausted. We got a small tapas dinner at the Lobby Cafe and Bar, then headed up to watch a special about the making of the Harry Potter movies.

So overall? Vegas is an amazing place, especially if you're a "Vegas" person. The thing is, I don't think I am a Vegas person. One night at a low-key nightclub was enough for me; I felt no need to go back out to their other, more hyped up "dance" type nightclubs. Nor do I really like to gamble away huge sums of money, and most of the shopping was out of the range that I was willing to pay for clothes or shoes (I mean, I can drool over Manolo Blahniks, but I'm not actually going to buy a pair!).

But it's definitely worth experiencing. Vegas is what it is, and doesn't try to hide that fact. In Vegas, you find the best and the worst of life. The sheer opulence of the hotels, the impressive themes of each resort on the Strip, the nightclub hawkers on the street, the smell of stale beer coming from the cheaper casinos on the Strip, the crazy people in pirate costumes or who look like brunette Paris Hiltons or terribly mismatched couples where the woman is clearly a trophy wife, the lights, the Lion Habitat at the MGM Grand, the Cirque Shows, and everything in between make it unforgettable.

(Blurry due to aperture issues, but me with the lights of Las Vegas)

(All photos by me, except the last one, by Emily.
If you wish to reproduce, please do so with a credit and a link.)

Why History? Part 2

Flashback to a fifth-grade birthday party for my friend, Jamie. For the party, we were all going to see a movie. Jamie wanted to see Practical Magic. I wanted to see Elizabeth—again. Yep. I was that kid. The kid who dared to be different. The one who never wore jeans because everyone wore jeans, and who chose to buy the soundtrack of the latest Broadway musical instead of the new N*Sync album. Also, I was a nerd.

But a nerd in the best possible way. I was the one who wanted to know the history behind the movies. When I saw Evita I found myself spending hours learning about Eva Duarte Peron and where the movie accurately portrayed her and where it took dramatic license. When I saw Pocahontas—well, let’s just say I learned quickly not to believe everything you see on the screen. In fact, I researched most every historical story I ran into. When I saw The Scarlet Pimpernel (the musical, though I recommend the book highly—it’s one of my favorites) I became briefly infatuated with the French Revolution. When I saw Hercules I learned everything I could about actual Greek mythology. This was aided by a program I was in called EER; in fifth grade, we studied Greek city states (my focus was on Corinth). The year before we had studied the plays of Shakespeare… and thus began another love in my life. More on that later.

Anyways, when I saw Elizabeth, I had found a role model and a life passion. Immediately, I looked up everything I could about the real Queen Elizabeth I. I bought a book called Beware Princess Elizabeth, which was “her” diary, I spent hours on websites finding out information about her, and from there a whole world of Tudor History opened up for me (you’ll forgive me for not going out and buying John Guy’s or Christopher Haigh’s books at that time—I was eleven). Already I had read a play that my parents had on our bookshelf called The Six Wives of Henry VIII, so I knew a good deal about her parents’ relationship in a dramatized form, and had a base layer of Tudor-ness under my belt. And, let’s be honest, how can you not love someone so strong and so, well, crafty? I’m not saying Elizabeth was a good person; not that she was a bad person either. But she was incredibly intelligent, powerful, brave, and strong. She was someone who knew what she had to do to get what she wanted and to keep her life and her crown. And Cate Blanchett made her damn sexy.

Then, in sixth grade, I saw The Lion in Winter in New York City starring Stockard Channing and Laurence Fishburne. I immediately checked the script out of the library and read it over and over; freshman year of high school I read Alison Weir’s biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine and used a segment of the play for Speech and Debate. Eleanor is another strong woman, but her tenacity wasn’t the only thing that attracted me to the play. I also loved Alais, the princess of France. She has one of my favorite lines in any play: “Kings, queens, and knights everywhere. I am the only pawn. I have nothing to lose. And that makes me dangerous.” Not that that is necessarily true of her, but isn’t it wonderful rhetoric?

Junior year of high school I read The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway and found the fictional Lady Brett Ashley both tragic and compelling. Arguably, of course, she is not a good role model at all, but the book—and my love of Shakespeare, before I had read The Sun Also Rises— led me to the real life Sylvia Beach, who singlehandedly published James Joyce’s Ulysses from her American bookshop in Paris, called Shakespeare and Company. I also spent some time learning about ex-patriot Paris and the roaring ‘20s after ‘meeting’ these two women.

There were many other influential historical figures in my life (and I haven’t even gotten to the men!!!), but I’ll mention just two more: freshman year of college I saw the movie Out of Africa and set out at once to learn about Isak Dineson/Karen Von Blixon, and junior year of college I met Georgiana, The Duchess of Devonshire, whose short, beautiful, tragic, amazing life never fails to move me.

I just remembered: we also had to write a “tragic hero” monologue for theatre class freshman year of high school, and I wrote mine in the voice of Marie Antoinette, complete with French accent—throw-back to my French Revolution phase.

The point is, around the time I was eleven years old my obsession with Tudor England began, which led to my obsession with English history in general, which—combined with my love of Felicity Merriman and the American Revolution—has landed me pretty much smack dab in the middle of my thesis. There were many critical steps in between, but those two moments in my life (plus the Shakespeare thing) were the jumping off points.

Next time on Why History?: The story that first changed the way I view history. PLUS, when I decided to become a history major!

Why History? Part 1

So the first few parts of “Why History” are going to be autobiographical, but then we’ll get into some actual concepts and maybe even some historiography! Plus, we will explore in depth some of my favorite parts of history and talk about writing a thesis. Here goes….

I got started loving history at an early age, which isn’t surprising if you’ve ever met my dad. He’s a huge American Civil War buff; we had paintings of generals and battles all over our house (both Union and Confederate), a Confederate Generals coffee mug, actual letters written by our ancestor Amos Camden Riley who died fighting for the Confederacy in Georgia, and my dad has portraits of Lincoln and Grant next to his bed. So yeah. Civil War history is all over our house. Seriously, how many children learn to play chess on a Civil War chess set? Not many.

But oddly enough, Civil War history didn’t really strike the same chord with me as it did with my dad. I like it fine, but I really got into the history of the American Revolution when I was about eight years old and never went back… well, I did go back… further in time and to another continent… but the American Revolution still plays a large part in what I study and where I chose to spend the last six years of my life.

You see, I fell in love with the American Girl Felicity Merriman. I saw her picture in a catalog and knew I had to have her. I read all of her books, which are set in Williamsburg, Virginia, during its colonial/early Revolutionary period, and when I was about ten years old my parents brought me to Colonial Williamsburg for the first time. I immediately fell in love with the place. Clutching my Felicity doll, I wandered up and down Duke of Gloucester Street taking in the sights. I learned to play with a hoop and stick and was rewarded for my skill with a silver musket ball from a reinactor (he gave it to me, he didn’t shoot it at me). I dressed in a little eighteenth-century dress, and we spent an afternoon with Felicity’s teacher, “Mrs. Manderly.” She taught us the proper way of performing the tea service, but of course I took hot chocolate like a true patriot (though now I see that the books left out a ton of complexities about “patriot” and “loyalist” and also you wouldn’t give a child chocolate in the eighteenth-century… but whatever, as a kid they shaped my life).

Most importantly, after I read about Felicity wishing she could go to William and Mary (it was for boys only in the eighteenth century), I knew that’s where I wanted to go. I even wrote about Felicity in my college entrance essay when I was seventeen. So in a way, this one simple American Girl doll influenced the course of my whole life up to now…

But not entirely. Because at age eleven, my dad took me to see the movie Elizabeth starring Cate Blanchett and Joseph Fiennes. And thus began a whole new phase in my historical timeline.

To be continued…

Why History?: An Introduction

Quite frankly, a lot of people find studying history boring. A lot more people find public history interesting, but have never looked through an academic book (and those people probably have never thought about the difference between public history and academic history, or the fact that not every history book is academic). Even more people have no idea what someone would do with a B.A—let alone an M.A.—in history. All of this inevitably leads to polite nods when people find out what I’m studying, an instantaneous discussion of what I think about the latest period drama or History Channel show (usually based in an era or on an event which I don’t study at all), or a bewildered, “So you want to teach, then?”

The answer to that last question is no. Or, at least not in a school. We’ll get to that.

Since this is so commonly the case, and I’m sure many budding historians have run into these scenarios, I thought I would do a blog mini-series on why I love history, what got me into history, and what makes studying history so compelling (to me). I mean, why do history at all? Beyond the obvious joy of pointing out glaring inaccuracies in historical movies and television shows (The Tudors, anyone?) what is studying history really contributing to anyone and are we actually doomed to repeat it? Hopefully, I will answer these questions and more over the course of the next few weeks or months, depending on how often I write these posts.

“Why History?” will not be published daily or even uninterruptedly, because I will of course keep writing about other things in between “Why History” installments, but I feel like these blog posts might help clarify what exactly a graduate student in history—or at least, this graduate student—really thinks and feels about her chosen field.

Welcome to “Why History?”