T-11 days

...until I move to D.C. for work! Am getting excited, if only because I am tired of this weird limbo period that I am in. If I could move tomorrow, I probably would.

Top three songs on loop this past week (nice and poppy):

1.
2.
3.

on basketball and Minesweeper

I mistakenly and foolishly thought that being done with college and having a job would make me think about my future less. On the contrary, the excess time I have gained now that I'm not studying for exams, reading for class, or writing a thesis has led me to contemplate about various paths in life, opportunities, etc. Nowadays, I spend the majority of my time strategizing for the future.

Normally, this feverish thinking mood would lead me to walk across the street from the lovely Currier House to the QRAC gym.

yoga musings

Yesterday night, I was talked into going to "Pop Yoga." I was promised fast-paced stretching to electronic/pop/dance music. It was...not that. What actually happened: confused me sneaking peeks at everyone else in the room to figure out which pose we were moving into while being distracted by Eminem, Snoop Dogg, and Ellie Goulding. I'm usually not a fan of yoga because it moves too slowly and it isn't a competitive sport. If there's any competition, it's you versus your body and your mind. Who is my opponent? My own body and mind? I don't play like that. I wasn't completely disappointed though...(more after the break)

After obsessing over Michael Idov's life and articles (and his current position as Editor-in-Chief of GQ Russia), I found two excellent articles.

In one, Idov describes the disappointment (and imminent bankruptcy) he faced after creating his dream coffee shop. It's a fair warning to all those (like me) who have been toying with the idea of opening a cafe or "cozy" restaurant. At least Idov got a book deal out of his story!

In the other, Idov writes about the strange foodie culture present in twenty-somethings. Nothing new, but still interesting. 

Anyway, two good reads among many!

P.S. NPR is out with its 50 favorite songs of 2013 (so far). 

listen to this

I would first like to establish whatever credibility I can get in the area of music with this gchat from more than a year ago (5/6/12):

me: did you listen to the song i sent you?

  the one by icona pop

12:08 AM Can: yessss

  :D:D:D

  awesome stuff:D

  its not on spotify tho

  it is swedish

Now that we know that I'm way ahead of the times (lawlz), I urge you to listen to this song:

carp as a metaphor for something

Although this weekend was full of interesting events (Food Truck Festival, movies, changing my hair color, research), today's focus is Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure Sunday mornings are meant for lazy brunches, cartoons, and reading, but at my house it means I get up earlier than I do on weekdays. 

The point of this post isn't lack of sleep, but rather the Sunday morning family trip we took to the Great Meadows. The Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge is spread out across many towns (though we only visit the unit in Concord, MA) -- it's a huge expanse of freshwater wetlands with a variety of wildlife.

This brings me to the carp that inhabit the wetlands. According to the Refuge, carp are an invasive species, not native to the U.S. When there is high water, carp end up moving from the nearby Concord River into the wetlands. Then, when the water level decreases, they struggle at moving back out (apparently they also just like swimming against a current). And, thus, you have the phenomenon of the jumping carp. Pictured below are the dozens of carp that try to move back into areas of high water, only to be pushed back by the strong current. With whatever strength they have, they climb and jump up the rocks, flapping their tails and splashing all the onlookers. But, as usual, the stream pushes them back. The Common Carp ends up in shallow water, three quarters of its body exposed to the air, gasping; then, once again, it musters its strength and continues the hike upstream. 

As an invasive species, we're not supposed to feel bad for the Common Carp. The ample supply of these creatures never ceases to prompt my parents to joke about bringing one home for dinner. But I have some sympathy for these fish - they didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they crossed into the wetlands and watching their strong bodies jostling each other as they attempt to move to deeper water is somewhat depressing. Maybe their pitiful existence in the Meadowlands is a metaphor for something, but it's Sunday afternoon and I'm going to save those thoughts for another time.

Two friends trying to make it upstream.

Fish on fish on fish.

Great Meadows

back to it

In the tradition of blogging every summer for the past two years, I am starting Round Three of journaling about my various Mundane Adventures.

Although it feels like a month has gone by, it has only been a week since I graduated from college. Post-graduation is a time for roadtrips and Eurotrips, but I have settled for the more banal experience of floating from room to room in my house and hanging out with my grandmother. Instead of worrying about foreign language complications, getting lost in Paris, or being swindled out of fifty euros, I fill my life with such questions as: Is it olive oil or sunflower oil that burns? (this still needs an answer); Where in the world is the Natick Collection? (on route 9, but definitely NOT a straight shot from Shoppers' World); Does Max Brenner actually have good dessert? (debatable); What to do on a rainy day? (Make the Best Breakfast Ever for my grandmother). Was there a better way to structure that sentence? (Potentially).

I exaggerate - my life isn't actually that dull. I start work on July 15th in the nation's capital, so I have been doing the Craiglist-Zillow-padmapper dance to find housing. So far, my efforts have yielded fewer results than I had hoped, but I am determined to find an apartment when I visit the area on the 19th/20th.

In other news, I have finally finished all the articles that were hanging out on my Google Chrome tabs. This New Yorker one was my favorite.

Reading has many facets, one of which might be the rather indescribable, and naturally fleeting, mix of thought and emotion and sensory manipulations that happen in the moment and then fade. How much of reading, then, is just a kind of narcissism—a marker of who you were and what you were thinking when you encountered a text? Perhaps thinking of that book later, a trace of whatever admixture moved you while reading it will spark out of the brain’s dark places.

So often, I hesitate to begin reading new books for the reason described above. I have formed very strong connections with a set of titles because of the time and place that I read them (and the person that I was when I read them). If I begin a new book, I want it to have a similar effect on me and leave something memorable. Now that I think about it, that seems to be my attitude toward all other relationships as well. Hmm - I should probably change that in order to become more open toward meeting new people & making friends in DC.

Peace out --