Aug. 24th, 2009

em_brett: (do not like)
I was supposed to drive from Boston to DC this past Friday. It seemed like a good plan: I'd finished my pottery class on Wednesday, so I'd take Thursday to pack up the apartment and head down on Friday. On the way, I'd drop J in Philly, where she'd meet up with her brother and then head home for her mom's birthday. That would let us split some of the driving and I'd still get home in a reasonable amount of time.

Thing is, I've spent all summer having quite a loose concept of time: to me, Friday may as well be Tuesday. I didn't really stop to consider that everyone and their mother would be trying to get out of town on one of the last Friday afternoons in August. So we sat in New York for about four hours.

Fortunately, J's family is wonderful and rather than going on to Philly from New York (at what was by then around 6 o'clock), we headed straight to her parents' house where I spent the night. I got to meet the Norweigians (J's unofficial extended family) as well as her mom's best friend who no one else likes. It was certainly eventful, and way easier than it would otherwise have been. The next morning, I headed home and then to the island where the family was. Good times -- managed not to crash despite the total 15 and a half hours of driving.

So now I'm home for a little over a week before heading back to school. I'm spending most of my time unpacking, repacking, washing cars, and working out. Not too bad, all things considered. I'm not entirely sure how I'm feeling about my return to campus, but I think I'll leave that contemplation for another time.
em_brett: (Default)
Don't get me wrong. I'm more than grateful that I got to grow up in a privileged area where I had access to everything -- education, museums, food, entertainment, you name it -- at my fingertips. Still, it blows my mind that almost every car on the road is a brand new SUV and when I see guys in golf carts exasperated because traffic won't stop for them so they can cross the street and continue their game at their fancy country club.

It's also fascinating to me, coming home from my various enclaves of young, hipster, and environmentally-conscious. The last of those, the concern for the environment, is partly a function of the fact that if you can pay to fill up your Suburban with premium gas, you will. More than that, though, it seems to be largely generational. While I'm certainly not complaining, I'm currently sitting in the very large kitchen of my parents' over-air-conditioned first house. We drive to everything; although my dad could commute via the subway, he doesn't. A lot of that, too, is that it's more convenient and that my parents can afford it. Still, while I'd like to one day own a house with an amply large kitchen and central air, I'd also like to grow a lot of my own food and conserve enough energy that I can sleep easy at night knowing that I'm not exploding my corner of the environment.

On a completely unrelated note, Dad's scheduled for a biopsy near his old melanoma site tomorrow. He's been in remission for a while and it's probably nothing, but...ugh, I don't really want to think about the possibility.

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Emilia Brett

December 2009

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