Good-bye America. I'm currently in the Land of the Canucks (and I in case I thought I was lost, Ijust saw a man-sized moose dressed like a mountie), waiting for my conecting flight to Tel Aviv.
The adventure has begun. Stay tuned for details...
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
That Toddlin' Town
Today, I was sitting and waiting for the bus- something I have done innumerable times. I waited at that bus stop when I was a little adolescent Cara, going to Michigan Avenue to meet up with friends. I waited at that bus stop when I was a teenage Cara and didn't have a ride to school. I waited at that bus stop as an adult Cara, going to work, or going out at night. The thought went through my brain that in a week's time, I won't be waiting for any more buses at that bus stop anymore.
As I was waiting for the bus to come back home, two tourist mothers and their tourist daughters were standing and looking at a map, trying to figure out where they were in relation to the Sears Tower, and how to get there. Overhearing their discusson, I pointed them in the right direction, and gave them a few options for getting there. As they walked away, I realized two things: first, I'd forgotten that there was a bus that would take them directly to the Sears Tower, and two, that in a week's time, I'm going to be the tourist wondering which bus to take to my destination.
I love Chicago. Knowing that I'm leaving has made me realize just how much I love this city and what a Chicago girl I am. I've been spending so much time saying goodbye to my family and friends. How am I going to say goodbye to the city itself?
As I was waiting for the bus to come back home, two tourist mothers and their tourist daughters were standing and looking at a map, trying to figure out where they were in relation to the Sears Tower, and how to get there. Overhearing their discusson, I pointed them in the right direction, and gave them a few options for getting there. As they walked away, I realized two things: first, I'd forgotten that there was a bus that would take them directly to the Sears Tower, and two, that in a week's time, I'm going to be the tourist wondering which bus to take to my destination.
I love Chicago. Knowing that I'm leaving has made me realize just how much I love this city and what a Chicago girl I am. I've been spending so much time saying goodbye to my family and friends. How am I going to say goodbye to the city itself?
T-7 Days
By this time next week, I'll have left Chicago. I'll be waiting in Terminal 2 of the Toronto airport for my flight to Tel Aviv.
Weird.
Weird.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Life Update
Well, the GREs are over. I got a couple of numerical "scores" that won't mean much of anything until I get the official letter in the mail, which will tell me how well I compare to the other poor schmucks who had to take the same test.And they still won't mean much of anything unless I manage to get my act together and start applying to grad school and fellowships and whatnot.
Now that I'm not spending my waking hour doing algebra and geometry problems or trying to memorize the definition of 'peripatetic,' I don't have too much to do. Other than take care of a puppy, start my grad school applications, make frustrating phone calls to the evil beings who are in charge of my student loans, pack up my belongings, finalize the details of my trip to Israel, and begin making my good-bye phone calls and social outings.
I leave two weeks from Wednesday. It's a strange thought. Last night, I couldn't fall asleep being I was mentally going through my closet and trying to decide what to bring, what to leave here, and what to give away. Then I started thinking about shoes. Then I realized that I should probably talk to someone about such practicalities as getting a cell phone and whether or not it makes sense to open an Israeli bank account. Which then reminded me that I have to talk to my bank here.
Why did I ever think that I would have nothing to do once the GREs were over?
Now that I'm not spending my waking hour doing algebra and geometry problems or trying to memorize the definition of 'peripatetic,' I don't have too much to do. Other than take care of a puppy, start my grad school applications, make frustrating phone calls to the evil beings who are in charge of my student loans, pack up my belongings, finalize the details of my trip to Israel, and begin making my good-bye phone calls and social outings.
I leave two weeks from Wednesday. It's a strange thought. Last night, I couldn't fall asleep being I was mentally going through my closet and trying to decide what to bring, what to leave here, and what to give away. Then I started thinking about shoes. Then I realized that I should probably talk to someone about such practicalities as getting a cell phone and whether or not it makes sense to open an Israeli bank account. Which then reminded me that I have to talk to my bank here.
Why did I ever think that I would have nothing to do once the GREs were over?
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Adventures in Puppysitting
Given that the past week has been so totally devoid of excitement, I was not at all prepared for the following events of this weekend:
1) Walking outside at 6:30am shabbos morning to walk the dog, only to find one of the neighbors passed out and snoring on the porch. At least I knew he was breathing.
2) Coming home from today's early afternoon study session (not to be confused with the early evening study session, which is to take place after dinner) to find that the puppy had gotten into my laundry and strewn clothes about the floor, and chewed up one of my favorite shoes. I'm not talking itty bitty teeth marks. I'm talking about bits of shoe here, there and everywhere, the lining ripped off, and the heel maimed beyond repair. And these weren't just any shoes. These were my super-comfy, super-cute black strappy sandals, suitable for work (not that I have to worry about that anymore), shul, and a night out on the town. These were the ultimate summer sandals. A girl doesn't find a pair of shoes like that every day. But at least now I have an excuse to go shoe shopping next week.
1) Walking outside at 6:30am shabbos morning to walk the dog, only to find one of the neighbors passed out and snoring on the porch. At least I knew he was breathing.
2) Coming home from today's early afternoon study session (not to be confused with the early evening study session, which is to take place after dinner) to find that the puppy had gotten into my laundry and strewn clothes about the floor, and chewed up one of my favorite shoes. I'm not talking itty bitty teeth marks. I'm talking about bits of shoe here, there and everywhere, the lining ripped off, and the heel maimed beyond repair. And these weren't just any shoes. These were my super-comfy, super-cute black strappy sandals, suitable for work (not that I have to worry about that anymore), shul, and a night out on the town. These were the ultimate summer sandals. A girl doesn't find a pair of shoes like that every day. But at least now I have an excuse to go shoe shopping next week.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
When Time Stops
The incident I'm about to write about actually happened a little bit ago. I just haven't really felt like blogging it until now. Even though this is my space to write about whatever is on my mind, I'm often reluctant to post anything that might be perceived as depressing, because then people think that I'm depressed. I'm not. Far from it. But I do occasionally have less-than-jolly experiences, moments or thoughts.
Lately, they tend to be Liz-related. I miss my friend, and sometimes the pain of that grief hits me so hard that it's almost a physical pain. Usually this happens when I'm alone, like when I go to bed at night or when I'm in the shower (some people sing; I think). I don't mean to imply that it hits me everytime I go to sleep or take a shower. Most of the time, I'm perfectly fine. Then suddenly the horrible realization that she's gone, and how long it's been since I heard her voice or saw her smile, smacks me in the face. I start reliving it all over again, and it feels as though no time at all has passed. I remind myself that this is normal.
Not too long ago, I went out with some college friends to a WashU Alumni happy hour kind of thing. The last time that I had seen one of them was the week after I'd returned from Pittsburgh in April. I assumed back then that he knew, because everyone else that was out that night had known. My assumption was wrong. On this night, not too long ago, I sat at the bar with this friend, and had reason, in the course of a conversation that I can no longer remember, to make reference to 'when Liz was really sick.' He responded by asking me how she was doing.
Time stopped. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at him. It probably was not really that long, but it felt long to me. I know that I didn't handle the situation very well. I was too shocked and shaken to think of a gentle way to let him know. He felt terrible, I felt terrible. That almost physical wave of grief threatened, but I wasn't alone this time. I was in a crowded bar. All I really wanted to do was go into the bathroom and cry, but I didn't want to risk making any kind of scene. I prefer not to cry in front of people, and didn't want anyone to notice that I was upset and ask what was wrong. So instead, I had to shove all those tears and the aching grief deep, deep down, until I was home, alone. I remind myself that this is normal.
Lately, they tend to be Liz-related. I miss my friend, and sometimes the pain of that grief hits me so hard that it's almost a physical pain. Usually this happens when I'm alone, like when I go to bed at night or when I'm in the shower (some people sing; I think). I don't mean to imply that it hits me everytime I go to sleep or take a shower. Most of the time, I'm perfectly fine. Then suddenly the horrible realization that she's gone, and how long it's been since I heard her voice or saw her smile, smacks me in the face. I start reliving it all over again, and it feels as though no time at all has passed. I remind myself that this is normal.
Not too long ago, I went out with some college friends to a WashU Alumni happy hour kind of thing. The last time that I had seen one of them was the week after I'd returned from Pittsburgh in April. I assumed back then that he knew, because everyone else that was out that night had known. My assumption was wrong. On this night, not too long ago, I sat at the bar with this friend, and had reason, in the course of a conversation that I can no longer remember, to make reference to 'when Liz was really sick.' He responded by asking me how she was doing.
Time stopped. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at him. It probably was not really that long, but it felt long to me. I know that I didn't handle the situation very well. I was too shocked and shaken to think of a gentle way to let him know. He felt terrible, I felt terrible. That almost physical wave of grief threatened, but I wasn't alone this time. I was in a crowded bar. All I really wanted to do was go into the bathroom and cry, but I didn't want to risk making any kind of scene. I prefer not to cry in front of people, and didn't want anyone to notice that I was upset and ask what was wrong. So instead, I had to shove all those tears and the aching grief deep, deep down, until I was home, alone. I remind myself that this is normal.
GRE Word of the Day
Grandiloquent.
It's almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's impossible to use the word 'grandiloquent' correctly in a sentance, either written or spoken, without coming across as rather grandiloquent.
In other GRE news, I hate algebra. If Train A leaves Boston at a speed of 62 miles per hour and Train B leaves Los Angeles at 73 miles per hour, does it really have anything whatsoever to do with how good of a social worker I'll be?
It's almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's impossible to use the word 'grandiloquent' correctly in a sentance, either written or spoken, without coming across as rather grandiloquent.
In other GRE news, I hate algebra. If Train A leaves Boston at a speed of 62 miles per hour and Train B leaves Los Angeles at 73 miles per hour, does it really have anything whatsoever to do with how good of a social worker I'll be?
Monday, August 01, 2005
Lazy Summer Days
Strangely enough, I feel like I have less time to blog now than I did when I was employed. Maybe I'm just lazier. Or perhaps blogging was an escape route when the daily grind was driving me nuts. Now that I have all the time in the world, I never seem to find myself spending much of it in front of a computer.
Florida was awesome. I got to see Cirque de Soleil and the Magic Kingdom. I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And now I'm home, spending my days studying for the GREs and taking care of Big Brother and BBG's adorable puppy.
I'm really bored. Is it time to go to Israel yet?
Florida was awesome. I got to see Cirque de Soleil and the Magic Kingdom. I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And now I'm home, spending my days studying for the GREs and taking care of Big Brother and BBG's adorable puppy.
I'm really bored. Is it time to go to Israel yet?
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