Elizabeth Scripturient (the delinquent, ecumenical (hermionesviolin) wrote,
Elizabeth Scripturient (the delinquent, ecumenical
hermionesviolin

  • Music:

Asterisk format stolen from musesfool.

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When the front desk manager called yesterday he said "How are you?" (like you do) and I said "Good" because I as so on auto-pilot (my brain was too occupied with other thoughts) and oh I hate when I do that (oh, my intentionality issues).

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I went to return some books to the library last night and ran for a few blocks, as I often have the urge to do when I'm out at night.  I can't keep it up for very long, but while I was running I was thinking [due to the Marathon conversation over lunch], "I could totally do an 8-minute mile if I tried," and I remembered that I only have a rough sense of how fast I normally do a mile (i.e., how long it takes me to get places that I estimate are a mile apart) and it would be nice to actually time myself on a track, both for regular fastwalking and really pushing myself.  And I really should look into that whole HBS gym thing.  (I also get into self-defense mode frequently, and just as much as I hate that I get winded easily I hate that I can't run for extended periods of time at all.)

From my dad [not written by him, just sent along by him]: an open query on why animals love physical movement and we (humans) don't.

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My mom came to say goodnight around quarter of midnight and I kinda chirped "Night!"  I wasn't actually intended for it to come out so perky.  Me being perky on our morning (read: 7:15am) walk to the train has become a Thing.  "And how are you this Grand and Glorious morning?"

She'd forgotten to brush her hair and after she did so and actually headed to bed she said to me, "Goodnight, Her Perkiness."

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I think there's just the one Red Line conductor who is hardcore about taking your trash.  This morning, same voice as last time, "If you're sitting on, looking at, or thinking about a Metro newspaper, you own it; please take it with you.  There's a special prize for anybody who takes more than 2."

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After you're hired you're on probation for 3 months. Today [April 19] is my 3-month exactly.

Last week, Alyssa was commenting on how she's been here nearly 6 months (she was hired about a month after me, direct-hire), and in the context of the 3-month review thing she said she still hasn't had hers (I got the impression from her that it necessitated scheduling a joint meeting with the profs you support as well as with J&B).

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One of Eric's friends used to go to Smith; she transferred to Gordon.

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I read callmesandy's femslash06 fic -- CSI futurefic Catherine/Sara [comm entry link; website link] -- and it felt like postapoc fic, and I've been in a Mood for that off-and-on for some time and this triggered me to start thinking about why.  My realization was: the idea that these people having nothing left but each other.  (Which may or may not have to do with my personal feeling of alienation from most of the human race.)

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HBSP hold music wins.  I think it was Beethoven's Ode to Joy -- full orchestra -- but it didn't go on long enough for me to be sure.  For once I was sad when an actual person picked up.

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I'm filling out the paperwork on Saturday for the apartment I liked.  (I feel like such a grownup, yo.  And OriginalRoomie checked in with me about a prospective third who has a cat.  We agreed cats are okay but the cleanup needs to be handled entirely and conscientiously by the owner.  Re: landlord she said "I'm sure everything will work out for the best.  You're room is here and waitin for ya!" and while apostrophe errors make me wince, I'm all grinny.)

I have rental applications from some of the previous places I looked at, and they want stuff like "present landlord," "current landlord," "personal reference," "credit reference."

RA's having a Welcome Spring party that night.  The text of the Evite e-mail?  No lie:
when the world is puddle-wonderful...

in just-
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame baloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

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This afternoon the NEG profs (headed by Greg, whom I heart) were arranging drinks for Friday -- would be Thursday except they teach Friday, Greg said :)

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I got to Harvard T Station right around 5:15, got a Red Line fairly quickly.  Not too many seats open.  A tall, slender, woman was sitting on the divider between two seats -- thereby taking up two seats.  The woman on her left was doing the same thing, but she was at least sitting normally (slender woman was leaning forward, reading the Metro backwards).  At Central, a small woman got on and looked at the space between MiddleWoman2 and the woman next to her (who was sitting in a seat normally) -- a space which had some Metros on it.  (When I got in I had looked at the seating and thought about asking one of them to move but noted the newspapers and couldn't decide who to ask to move, so I just stood, 'cause standing's no big for me.)  NormalWoman looked at the standing woman, said something like, "If you want to sit down, just move the papers" and she scooped up the papers and stuck them under the seat "and sit down," and I couldn't tell if she was more annoyed with the standing woman or the middle woman.  So FormerlyStandingWoman and MiddleWoman2 were both sitting very shrunk into themselves for space, and I didn't know why NormalWoman didn't move over a bit as the woman on the other side of her was leaning away from them and not taking up all of her seat.  MiddleWoman1 was now leaning back in her seat, right leg crossed over her other leg, doing the crossword.  At Kendall a guy got on and stood in my line of vision so I watched the girl sitting to my left apply makeup, and discerned by the reflectiveness of the windows that MiddleWoman1 eventually did move fully into one seat. 

We were stopped for quite some time, which was good for the woman applying makeup, and first they said there was traffic up ahead (two trains passed us going in the opposite direction) and then they said there was a disabled train at Charles and they were gonna back us up into Kendall (to which we were much closer than I had thought).  This made me feel better about not having gotten the previous Red Line (which I often make) 'cause then I would have been on the disabled train and wouldn't that suck.  I knew I could walk, so I left and did so, and called home to say obviously I wasn't gonna make my train ('cause it was 5:40, when my train leaves South Station).  I walked the wrong way for a few minutes, knew I should be seeing a bridge by now, turned around, consulted the MIT campus map to confirm I was on the right street (Kendall is one of those stations that has a whole bunch of entrances and exits) and then started walking.  Indeed, I soon saw Longfellow Bridge, complete with stopped train.  As I approached, it moved, and I justified that they might have sent a train to fetch it to take it to repair.  Then I saw a train come out of Kendall.  This was only 10 minutes after I'd left Kendall.  Oh well. Ten minutes feels like a long time when you're waiting and don't know how long it'll take; and I like having agency (see every mention evar of how I like controlling what I'm doing).  Then it stopped where the previous one had been stopped and I felt vindicated.  Then it started up again.  Whatever.  I was on the right side this time, so I could have boarded at Charles, but I wasn't feeling very trusting of the Red Line, so I decided to walk to Park (remember my control agency issues).  I had forgotten how long this takes.  I got to the Common and the Pru looked like it was really close, but I'm less confident in my ability to navigate that, so I walked to Park St. Station.  I didn't trust my ability to get to South Station by 6:15 (next train) since I was tired from walking and there was rush hour traffic, so since it was only 3 stops and would buy me a 5-minute cushion I did the Green Line to Copley.  There was a packed C Line I couldn't board, and then soon after a near empty B Line.  All good, right?  Well, it stopped twice between Boylston and Arlington.  So 6:15 I'm at Arlington -- and cursing that I didn't just try to hustle from Park to South Station, again with the "at least then I would be responsible for my being late -- well excluding the original extenuating circumstance."  Two more stops before Copley.  So it's 6:20 (when the train leaves Back Bay) when I exit Copley.  So I head towards Back Bay in no hurry, call home to say I'll be on the next train -- something like 7:30, home around 6ish.  [Sidenote: The cover of the current Improper Bostonian?  Ew.]  When I get in to Back Bay I check the board just in case and see nothing of use to me, so I cut through the huge line for tokens and am nearing a turnstile to swipe (intending Orange Line to Downtown Crossing, walk to South Station, because South Station is a better place to wait for an hour than Back Bay) when I hear "The 6:20 Franklin-Forge Park will be boarding on Track 1.  The 6:30 Needham Heights will be boarding on Track 3."  So I dash down the escalator.  Oops, I forgot that Back Bay announces your train boarding a good few times before it actually arrives.  They announce two or three times and then when the train finally arrives they announce "final boarding call."  When it does arrive I literally look up and whisper Thanks.  The other train arrives immediately after and I'm looking around for a conductor -- I think I hear "Needham Heights" from the other side, but I wouldn't want to get on the wrong train (esp. since Needham doesn't go to Ruggles, so I would have to wait for the next Inbound train and yeah, suckitude) and a slew of people boarded before me so I worried if I asked anyone they would be the people who had just got on with me, but there was a conductor standing in the connector space on my left so I asked if it was the Franklin train and he said yes.  So I got a seat, settled, and called home.  It cut me off while I was still listening to the "You have reached..." 'cause we went too far undergound.  42 seconds.  No wonder I feel like it takes forever for our answering service to pick up.  So while we're waiting to leave Ruggles I call again.  So I have now called 4 times between 5:40 and 6:40ish and gotten no answer any time.  I get off at Norwood, look to see if my mother's there [she usually e-mails between 4 and 5 to say which train she'll be getting home but she didn't today], check my phone for messages, commence walking home.  As I near home I idly wonder if my parents are dead (flashes of "Blood Drops" but without the ick).  This would be very unfortunate timing and they should really wait a few years.  I also consider the possibility that my mom was too exhausted, came home early, and they're at Charlie's and there'll be a note at home (obviously useless if one is calling home).  I enter my house, let the screen door slam behind me, am going to call out "I'm home" when my dad says hello.  I literally start.  Turns out he had been at my grandmother's, helping clean her place.  He hasn't checked for messages, so I get to listen to all my messages (plus one from my mom, which is a nonissue as they had connected later) and delete them.  I actually thought I sounded kinda cute (in a goodish way -- which is unusual, as usually when I hear my voice recorded I just hate on the young-sounding-ness of it/me).

Turned out my mom was working late, so my dad drove in to pick her up and I called my grandma (31:53!).

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I am still catching up on LJ comments.

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I think I am going to bed now.

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Tags: exercise, family: my mom loves me, fanfic: recs, mbta, people: h: eric, people: h: nicole, travel: adventures in public transit
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