And the Thunder Rolled

The thunder sounded like fireworks being set off outside my window. I was sure that it was cracking not more than 10 feet from my house, from my room, from my bed. But it wasn't the sound of wrecking balls that kept me awake; it was the lightning. Right as I was about to fall asleep, I would see flashes as bright as if the paparazzi was right next to my bed. The anticipation between the light and the crash that was sure to follow-- the brighter the light, the louder the noise-- that was what kept me so on edge I could not sleep.

After one particularly loud clap, I stopped pretending. I stopped pretending the noise was soothing, that the rain could lull me to sleep instead of making the window screens shake in their frames as if someone was trying to break in. I stopped pretending I wasn't scared, and I stopped pretending I was too old.

So out of my bed I hopped and right into my sisters. She was awake too, but after a rumble that sounded like it was going to take my house down, I realized I needed something more. I ran down the hall and climbed right into the safest haven in the house. Just like being in a car, nothing can harm you in your parents bed during a lightning storm. I fit perfectly in the middle of the two existing inhabitants. Even though the winter comforter that I associated my whole childhood with (throwing it into a pile on the ground, standing on the bed with my sister, pretending to be Aladdin as she was Jasmine, asking her "do you trust me? then JUUUUMP!" as we leapt the two feet off the bed into the lump of down that, for the sake of the game, had been transformed into some sort of Arabic market overhanging) had been replaced by a lighter, summer quilt, it was still warm and smelled of Smartfood.

There, I waited out the storm, until the only noise left was indeed a soothing pitter-patter of rain. I crawled out and back into my own bed. I quickly fell asleep, as there was nothing to keep me awake anymore. And today, when my 20-year old sister asked me, "where did you go in the middle of the the night last night??" And I replied, to mom and dad's room, she said, "and left me alone! I'll hit you guys up next time for sure," I learned that no one is too old to stop pretending.

Things, at home.

Now that I am home and able to look back on my Southern experiences objectively, without having to worry about unexpected and unwanted "company," I can see the things that I will remember most...

Things I have always known but were further instilled* in my brain on this trip:

-I seriously need to wear more clothes.

-I am such a good wingwoman.

-I really want to be a bartender.

-My sister is wicked cool.

It's only the second full day I have been home, and it's strange to see the way a small town changes in so little time. How is it that Blockbuster, a multi-million dollar corporation*, can be replaced by a pet store? First of all, who needs a pet store? Answer: no one. Secondly, in a town that has 5 Dunkin' Donuts, we aren't allowed to have a movie rental* store? Video Signals doesnt count. But it's good to see that some things have not, and probably will never, change. See: the clientele at the 24 hour CVS at night.

Things you expect to see at CVS:

-Bitter cashiers

-Rows of tampons and adult diapers*

-Overwhelming supplies of astronomically high SPF numbers

-Romance novels and teenie bopper magazines, most likely with Justin Bieber on the cover*

Things we do see at CVS:

-Your friend's father, donning hospital scrubs.

-A somewhat drunk, very flustered, high school senior male run up to you asking what cover-up is, and which brand he should buy in order to best mask the massive, bruise-like hickey that is paying rent on half his neck before he goes to prom in 3 days with a different vampiress than the one who was sucking his blood recently.

-A patron deciding they do not want a whole box of Oreos, so opening the case, taking the desired two, and resealing the box. Then realizing that this person is the one you came with.

But of course the best part of returning home is seeing all your friends you haven't seen in so long. Enthusiastic* embraces, exchanges of stories, and a jump back into your old hometown routine.

Things that you would expect in a reunion of two best friends:

-Hugs

-Laughing

-Jumping up and down

-Screaming, squealing, etc.

Things that occurred in an interaction with one Maya Fox today:

-Realizing you are wearing the exact. same. thing. ...and then proceeding to the list above.

From coffee on every street corner, to crazed pre-prom preparations.... yeah, it's good to be home.

*thanks to (NAME DROP!) Emily Guilfoil for synonym and wording assistance.

The Saga Continues

Friday, May 7th. I am awakened by the smell of bacon wafting up the stairs into my sleeping quarters. Well not really, because my sister is a vegetarian and lives in a one floor apartment, but she has made me breakfast. After a delicious meal of pancakes with homemade syrup, she tells me it's time for what I have been dreading for the past week, when I first heard of it; Wipe Your Ass off the Floor with Stuart. Okay, it's actually called Total Body Performance, but if I had had any energy after the class, I would definitely have used it to pick up my ass of the floor.

Things I was told about Stuart, the instructor, beforehand:

1. "His arms are as big as my thighs."

2. He is a chiropractor

Things I was not told:

1. He is encouraging and sweet as sugar

2. and as spicy as jambalaya ;)

(Clearly since the first thing my mind associates everything with is food, I needed to be at this class.)

Needless to say, typing on these keys are the only movements my total body will be performing today. I'll be lucky to be able to move again by August.

5:00: to most people, quittin' time. For Amy, its the beginning of her 10-hour shift at the bar. My first 4 hours there go by relatively unnoteworthily (watch for it, it'll be a Scrabble-accepted word soon). A young guy sitting next to me asks if i "come here often." ... I didn't know people actually used that line in real life. Within the first five minutes, I know his whole life story, from everywhere he has lived, the education statuses of his six siblings, his father's health issues, you get the picture. He asked if I wanted to go get a movie with him, but unfortunately I had to decline; I felt I already knew everything about him and couldn't imagine what we would talk about in the time to and from the theater. Wouldn't want an awkward situation now, would we?

For the next two hours, I was gloriously saved by a phone call from the wonderful 978. But with the end of my phone's battery came the end of the refuge, and I had to snap back to reality. As I sat outside enjoying the warm southern breeze, I heard those dreaded 5 words come from behind me; "Would you like some company?" What is up with these Carolinian men thinking that I always need their company?! Clearly I need to take some tips from Kelly Clarkson on how to be Miss Independent. I turned around and saw the most stereotypical Creeper with a capital C. Middle-aged, long gray crazy hair, a coy look on his face. I wonder where he parked his white van.

"Oh, I'm just.... enjoying watching the traffic...." I stammer. PLEASE PLEASE GET THE HINT

awkward silence

"I'm Paul, by the way." Nope, hint was lost.

handshake. awkward silence.

"I'd love to chat..." Really, man?! come on now clearly I am trying to avoid you at all costs.

So through our "chat," we find out that we share an interest in photography. He whips out a yellow plastic camera as big as a brick and asks if I want my picture taken. Is that a serious question, you psychotic, pedophiliac?! I tell him I prefer to be behind the camera than in front of it, which anyone and their mother could tell you is a falsehood. Luckily, after about 20 minutes, he decides he's going to go in to listen to the music. Sounds like an escape route, if you ask me. Clearly I wasn't entertaining enough. I'm insulted. And yet so, so thrilled.

Thursday, May 6th

11:50 am: You know that feeling you get when you can just tell that you're the odd one out? That's the kind of feeling I got walking into the Greyhound Bus station. All of a sudden, I realized how the cream filling of an Oreo has always felt. I got in line behind a suburban rocker-looking man with a greasy fauxhawk and gauged ears. Although not typically my type, he had a Red Sox backpack so I figured we'd get along. Then he took off his shirt and started applying deodorant in the middle of the station. Suddenly not my type. I kept my friend Sam by my side until the very last minute, clinging dearly to the last bit of familiarity in this strange place.

12:46 pm: The guy in front of me whips out his cell phone and takes a picture of a girl who has just gotten on the bus. He zooms in as far as possible. Apparently he finds her hairstyle amusing. He then proceeds to send it to the girl sitting behind him. Can't she just look to the front of the bus and see it for herself?

3:22 pm: Stop in Richmond to service the bus. I am sitting on a bench minding my own business when I hear, "what are ya reading, young lady?" The man on the other side of the bench and I begin to talk about my book. He then asks me where I go to school. I say Washington DC. He asks if I go to Georgetown.

..........

You know that feeling that you'll never be good enough to meet your parents expectations? Yeah, it's even worse when you can't even meet the expectations of a complete stranger. No, sir, I told him, contrary to popular belief, there are other schools in our nations capital than just The Castle on a Hill. Sorry to disappoint. He asks what I'm studying. Spanish and Latin American Studies. "You must want to be a teacher." Oh, so now you guess right? That's when this casual conversation took a turn. He told me not to be just any old teacher, because there are plenty of them out there doing it just for the paycheck (i told him if i was doing it for the paycheck, i would pick something that would actually give me one). He went on to describe what made a good teacher, and how important the teacher's attitude is in order for the students to reflect the same positive attitude. Hey, inspiration comes at unexpected times.

6:43 pm: Arrive in Raleigh. My sister says she is already there and waiting (and that she also empathizes with the cream filling). I don't see her, so I assume she's waiting outside. I walk around, tell her what I'm near, describe the area. 10 minutes and a "You're in RALEIGH?!" "Isn't that where you live....? no....?" conversation later, I'm back inside, waiting. A man looks over to me, asks if I would like to sit with him and keep him company. In the seat next to him is a razor, tooth brush and soap. I figure he has company enough. Apparently he doesn't think so, because he comes and sits next to me. Ah, yes, how did you know, I was just playing hard to get. He tells me his bus is leaving at 5 am. I ask if he realizes its 7 pm.... as in 10 hours before his departure time. He does. I guess he just wanted to make sure he got a window seat.

8:03 pm: A man walks up to me and says, "your sister is waiting for you outside." Sir, I do not know who you are, how you know she is my sister or that I am the one she is looking for, but thank you, thank you, thank you. Never have I heard such blessed 6 words (except maybe for he's just not that into you, but thats a story for another time).

Un día, se sabrá (si el amor puede mover una montaña)

"I couldn't sleep last night because I know that it's over between us. I'm not bitter anymore, because I know that what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future we see each other in our new lives, I'll smile at you with joy and remember how we spent the summer beneath the trees, learning from each other and growing in love. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever. I love you. I'll be seeing you."

Basically, that's how the it went. Replace the summer with... one night and the trees with chandelier-like lighting fixtures, and its basically a word for word recount of the story I told my friend the other day. It ended with a nostalgic sigh and "Oh well, it was fun while it lasted." "I guess that's college for you," she replied.

But what does that mean? I guess what is college? Dead ends? Meeting people who get you, who think the exact same way you do? Finding yourself? And Nemo? and Neverland.... and Forrester... yep, that's all part of it. Take out the (mom, you better stop reading here) 7 dollar bottles of champagne and the sexiling and college almost seems like something profound (i really tried to come up with a deeper than that, but couldn't think of one. so much for that theory).

Don't get me wrong, my sentiments towards college are probably one of the only things Asher Roth and I have in common. I love being responsible for my own success. I like having to make my own decisions, whether i end up reaping the benefits or facing the consequences. I like being able to pull the 'poor college student' card, whether its true or not (mom i told you to stop reading!). i like living in a colony of friends, where the younger generation truly does have power over adults.

But despite all this, I don't feel the need to go to college. I recognize the value in a college degree and the opportunities it presents, but I don't think my life is pointing in a direction of a woman in a business suit judging me based on a number on a piece of paper. Somehow, I just don't think thats how the Hondurans roll. In fact, I know how the Hondurans roll. Because I've made baleadas with them.

Sooooo ... I don't really know how to end this ... just like i don't know how my college career will end.... (sappy metaphor, clutch. i guess i did know after all).

Final(s) Daze

You know its finals season when you wake up at a normal breakfast hour on the weekends. 9 pages to write in a day? Helloooo 10 am on a Saturday. We haven't seen each other in a while. Yeah, finals mean heightened levels of stress and lower levels of sleep, but they also mean the end is in sight. And all everyone can seem to be focused on is getting out of here. Every day I see a countdown someone has posted, or hear "home in 6 days!" My friends from home constantly ask me when I'm coming home, and we talk about all the fun things we'll do this summer. But what's the rush? Yes, there are things I'm looking forward to about returning home; Dunkin' Donuts. my dog. stars. Maya. Salt bagels. driving somewhere. driving nowhere. Tedeschi's at 1 am. Mucho Mangoes. Sleeping in. But are iced lattes and stick shifts enough to make me drop everything I have here and run?

It's so weird to think that it's the end already. To think about everything that has happened this year, and know that it's over. But I don't want it to be over. I don't want to have to come back and start over again next year. I need more time. To figure things out, to finalize things, to get closure. I can't leave not knowing. How is that so much seems to be starting just as everything is ending? And when I return home it's the opposite; everything has ended and I will have to start it up again. Seems a little backwards. Can't I just stay a little bit longer?

First semester I would could down days until I could go home. I felt that was where I belonged; that I was at some sort of cruel summer camp here and just wanted it to end so I could go back to my life. Now I don't want to leave? When did that happen. For the first time in my life, summer is too long. Minnesota is too far away (this is not for the first time. it has always been too far. from everything.). So I guess I'll start a new countdown. While everyone else's is getting to be in the single digits, mine is somewhere over 100. 113 days of sun at the Ridge, of making cookies with my aunt, of enjoying dinner on the deck, of surfing the waves with my cousins, of lying at NARA at night. And 113 days til I'm back, with a whole new list of things to enjoy.

Meet the Parents

My family is in town. I called my mother at 12:30 to see what time she thought they would arrive, she said 3:00. I was surprised at the good time they were making. Car rides with the Lorias are always of epic proportions; whether it is leaving at midnight avoid traffic en route to North Carolina, or my dad choking on a peach pit while driving and somehow blaming it on my mother, or having a rug fall off our roof and roll across 495, road trips with the fam are nothing less than entertaining.

good looking group, eh?

for reference; pat: mother. kevin: baby boy. dennis: father. amy: biggest sis. ker: middle sis. also known as ker, kiwi, weewee, middlepath. and me! awkward third one. lost in the ways of the world. independent, but not by choice. but thats for another time.

My mother calls me back at 2:45. They're here! I can't believe they got here without any problems. Oh--spoke too soon. The car broke down. The trusty T&C made it the 480 miles with no problems, and decided to call it quits within walking distance of my school. They are now waiting for a tow truck to take the car to the dealership and get a rental car. Of course. I smiled, thankful that not too much had changed since I've left. This got me thinking of other adventures we've been through that have given the Griswald's their well deserved nickname...

1. The Italian Job: April, 2006. The Loria family takes Europe (clearly foreshadowing to Kelly taking DC)! As we're doing the usual touristy things, we decide to take a tour of the Sistine Chapel. Instead of standing in the long line of people waiting to buy tickets from the establishment, Den decides to "be like a local" and hire a guy on the street to take us through. He says its a great deal; for a low price, we get a personalized tour and headsets to listen to the official guided tour. What a steal! Okay even the kids could see through this like it was doused in Windex. Despite our testaments that we were being cheated, Daddio decided to go through with it. Guess who was right? After paying a large man on a street corner who then mysteriously disappeared, we are taken inside yet all the perks of this tour are no where to be found. After many complaints, the tour leader, or the Scam Man as he was deemed by 10-year old Kevin, starts walkie-talkie-ing his honchos, saying how we were starting a revolution and he couldn't control us. Unexpected twist! Amy understands the entire conversation. Guess that gig is up. How do you say coup d'etat in Italian?

2. Sayanara Sanjaya: April 2007. Being the avid American Idol fans that we are, not even a trip to California was not going to cause us to miss an episode. So Wednesday night comes around and the clan is gathered in a hotel room, waiting anxiously to see who will be voted off. You remember the season--Sanjaya Malakar confused the singing competition with a season of What Not to Wear...on your head.

Well tonight was his night to go. We had been waiting for this moment for months. As soon as Ryan Seacrest announced it was the end of Simba's journey, it was like October 27th, 2004 in Boston. And yes. You should know that date. There was jubilant screaming, kicking, flailing, hugging, probably a few tears shed. And not only because my glasses were broken in the process.

I really wish I was kidding.

3. Far from Home: July 2006? Kelly, Kerry, Pat coming home from Mississippi. Flight cancelled in New York. Drive home with strangers we just met? No rental cars. Stay the night? No hotel rooms. Get picked up by Den? Phones die. Thank goodness for air mattress--sleep in airport! 1 am... vacuums. 3 am... Fire alarms. 6 am bus. 10 am commuter rail. noon, home sweet home. Who said Planes, Trains and Automobiles were just for John Candy and Steve Martin?

Honorable Mentions: That time we went to Florida... by way of California. economical!

That time we lost our dog the day we got her, only to find her asleep under the deck.

That time Pat called the neighbors in the middle of the night to protect the house from robbers...turns out the noise was just the gerbils.

That time Kevvy spilled the whole tank of sea monkeys all over the kitchen (yeah...we're not really good with pets).

I know, I know you want in. Most people do.