"you're a kansan? so you're from canada?"

East coasters do not believe in the midwest. Neither do west coasters, but they're less pretentious about it. YEAH I said it. For those who live on the perimeter of our fair country, the central states are just vast stretches of nothingness to fly over while watching Mean Girls until you arrive at your real destination.

But an entity is nothing without its heart, and Kansas, my friends, is heartland to the max. I am a born and bred Kansan, even if my middle schoolers do not know what that means and think I'm from Canada, and I really despise when people endlessly hate on the state and swear they're gonna leave and never come back.

Note: People who say that are always, I mean always, the ones who come back. But that's another blog post.

True devotion to the state

As much as I love Kansas, though, I have always known there is much more to see in this world besides Sonic and sunflowers. What? I talk about Sonic too much? Have you HAD one of their cherry limeades? No? Suck it. So when the opportunity arises, I like to peace out and experience life outside the middle. Boston seemed like a cool place to check out.

And cool it is. Boston definitely has the upper hand in some respects, but lest you count out dear ole Topeka, I will present a balanced list, a tale of two cities, if you will.

Top City has: friendlier people. Yeah, it’s true. We’re just nicer people. In my six weeks here, I have experienced the worst customer service I’ve ever had. No charm to be found here. Charmless.

But Boston has: meaning. It feels like every place I go to in Boston has been around since the 1600s. The people we read about in history class are people whose graves I walk by.

Sam Adams in the flesh (bones)

Everything here is “America’s First!” America’s First Public School! America’s First Pub! America’s First Extreme Massacre of a Marginalized Group! There is really no building in Topeka that has any historical meaning, barring the Brown v. Board school and maybe T-High for the Trojans among us. Boston is just so old, in the coolest way.

More really old dead people

Just strolling past the balcony where they first read the Declaration of Independence

Boston has: things to do. The city is smaller than I anticipated, but it’s still much more legit than Topeka and St. Louis… combined. Last weekend I sat down and wrote out a list of things I wanted to do while I’m here, including a Salem witch tour, a Boston Tea Party reenactment, and a Red Sox game. There is always something new to do or see, and man, the food is on point. If I could afford it, I would eat at a new restaurant every night. Shout out to Maddie for taking me to The Rattlesnake, where I had the most delish nachos.

But Topeka has: normal weather. Here I either wake up sweating or shivering, and whatever weather you think it’s going to be for the day, you’re wrong. Sometimes it’s 50 degrees when we leave the house and a solid 85 when we come back. That’s not okay. Also I feel like it rains a lot here. A feeling that’s amplified by 15 minute walks to work during which many a bus honks at me, as if to warn me of impending doom, flies past me, and soaks me head to toe. Needless to say, the pass and splash has gotten old.

Topeka has: my car. Oh sweet sweet Linda, how I miss being able to hop in you to take a jaunt to Target, or Panera, or Sonic. Yes, again with the Sonic. 2-4 happy hour. Do it. When I want to go to the grocery store, I have to walk to the station (granted, it’s across the street… but still), wait for the T, sit on the T, walk to the store, and basically live life on someone else’s schedule. I haven’t even been to Target since the first day because the planning process exhausts me. Tragic. Baby violins.*

*Baby Violins: during times of complete silence at school, the 6^th graders are encouraged to express their disappointment through a quick mimed performance on their baby violins.

But Boston has: legit public transportation. I don’t believe I’ve ever taken a bus or a cab in Topeka. I’m fairly certain I’d rather walk than take that risk. As much as I miss having a car, the T can actually take me anywhere I need to go, pretty quickly, and I don’t have to parallel park (a sight no one should witness), get completely lost in a skeezy neighborhood, or buy gas. So maybe this one’s a draw.

Boston has: Progressive people. During training, one of the teachers gave us a quick bio and mentioned that she and her wife had just returned from a trip. Her wife!! It’s like people here actually believe in basic civil rights. MADNESS. I’m already gearing up for the massive pride parade later this year. The east coast liberal elite is my kinda crowd.

But Topeka has: No. We have the Phelps.

Kansas will always have an advantage in the two most essential categories: loved ones and college basketball. But for now, Boston is right where I should be.

Home sweet home

the new yorker

You may be familiar with a frequent character in my blog, Jeanenne, one of my freshman year roomies and a fellow Australian abroadee. She is also one of the first New Yorkers I met, & I had the distinct pleasure of staying with her fam on Long Island the summer after freshman year.

Ah, youth.

Well, this year, as Labor Day rolled around, J-Rod mentioned that she was going to the US Open and said she might have an extra ticket. After I checked my booming social calendar, I realized I had several major commitments, so I politely declined. Then Beyonce got all preggo and had to cancel our weekend in the Bahamas, and I was like, fine, Jeanenne, stop begging me, I'll come.

Because we are "adults" now, we did "adult" things. Exhibit A: wine, cheese, and salami galore at Eataly.

No chairs here. Everyone stands. So chic.

We ventured to Magnolia Bakery and had a peanut butter cupcake and a chocolate cupcake. Cupcakes are so underrated.

Cupcake line-up.

When we weren't eating, we were sleeping. Rephrase: I was sleeping. When you wake up in the 5s and go to bed in the 10s, it's really hard to stay up past midnight! Did you hear me, mother?! I understand you now! The moments I did manage to stay awake, however, were pretty badass.

The US Open is quite an event. I have never watched tennis, ever. Last year I took a beginning tennis class because it was second semester senior year and I wasn't trying to do anything useful. While taking the class, I learned that 1) tennis is exhausting, 2) hitting the ball with both force and accuracy is difficult, and 3) St. Louis has very few comfortable-weather days between February and May. Just kidding - I learned that last nugget of wisdom February of my freshman year when I left my dorm wearing shorts and flip flops and came home in the snow.

But I keep up with the news, and the Kardashians, and I knew this event was major. High brow, fancy pants stuff. I mean, Mercedes Benz was a sponsor. People who drove their Mercedes got free parking. Vince would have squealed with joy. Anything to save money.

We saw a bunch of matches. Women's singles, women's doubles (I love you Sania Mirza), mixed doubles, men's singles, and men's doubles. But my fave match, featuring my future husband (one of many, to be sure) was Tecau and Lindstedt playing some angry Italians.

Our Romanian children will be superathletes.

What I expected to be the grand finale of our night was only the penultimate (vocab word) experience. We cheered for John Isner, the tallest man on earth. Johnny won. It was awesome. It was here that I fully realized that what makes tennis so bizarre is that the fans do their raucous cheering for about five seconds, and then you have to abruptly stop as the next serve begins. Talk about pressure, playing in complete silence. I felt like a true WASP, watching tennis over Labor Day weekend, clapping in silence. I knew I had it in me.

Isner was fun, but we then saw the most intense back-and-forth match in history (in my history of watching tennis) between Sam Stosur and some Russian chick. No, not Maria Sharapova, don't you know anything about tennis?

We love SS because she's from Brisbane, Australia, and if you want to know why I love Brisbane, you should read the rest of this blog because it is essentially a love letter to Oz. Stosur pulled through, we heard the accent, we cried because we miss Australia, etc. Fast forward a week and Stosur beats Serena Williams in the finals and wins her first US Open!!

Even though I am a true Bostonian now (does it scream "I'm definitely not from Boston!!" to buy that ubiquitous B hat? yes? too bad, I'm doing it anyway), I had a lovely time in New York with J-Rod. My next goal is for her to invite me to an A-list movie premiere in NYC. Start planning, Jeanenne.

beantown basics

Let me first take a moment to marvel at modern technology. As I write this, I am sitting on a bus somewhere between Boston and New York. I'm on the Internet! On a bus! Between the interwebz, the outlets, and the peacefully slumbering man next to me -- not to mention the $30 round trip tix I scored -- I am feeling swell about this journey. In a few hours I will be sipping pina coladas and reminiscing about WashU with Jeanenne, wondering how we went from sleeping til 2 pm (okay that was mostly me) to waking up at 5:30 am every day (I just... can't believe this is my life). But before we slip into the past, here is the present:

The Home. I live in a big yellow house in Jamaica Plain, a cozy neighborhood in southwest Boston. Still unsure of the vibe of JP (official initials), as it has its WASPy elements as well as its urban swag. As of yesterday, there are 8 of us living in our Real World: JP pad. We are living in what I would call a dual-family home - at least that's what they call it on House Hunters - and we have the top 2 floors. There are 5 bedrooms and a bathroom on the third floor, and on the second floor we have another bathroom, a kitchen, dining area, living room, and a back porch. I would say that my favorite part of the house is that it has character, but we all know that when people say that, they mean there's a mouse problem and a non-functioning dryer.

OH WAIT. SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT.

I mean, there was a mouse. Or maybe two. I'm not on mouse duty. I'm on "stand in the corner and squeal til someone else fixes the situation" duty. And to be fair, the dryer was fixed today. But the fact that we don't have air conditioning is real tough. I am literally sweating from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. And they said Boston was cold...

The Homies. There are 50 Corps members in my program, most of whom are fresh out of undergrad. The Cou gang (I wanted to be alliterative and say clan, but for obvious reasons, I’m going to refrain), which is my house, well, we spend literally every minute of every day together. We walk to work together; see each other throughout the work day; walk home together; sit on the couch together, talking about how tired we are; watch Cupcake Wars and Jersey Shore together; and crawl back into bed together… I mean, no. I love my housemates and when I upload pix onto my computer, I will be sharing some images of the best-looking people in Massachusetts.

The Job. Unlike the last adventure I was on, down in Australia, they actually expect me to be a productive member of society here. Our middle school is a no-excuses charter school, which means that we do things just a tad differently than the ol 501 school district (what up T-town). Some examples: silent transitions from class to class, with everybody walking clockwise to efficiently get around; school days that go from 7 am to 4 pm; and two hours of intensive 1 on 2 tutoring Mon-Thurs. That's where we come in. As tutors, we are responsible for 5-6 kids. I have two 8th graders, two 7th graders, and two 6th graders. Every day we meet with each grade for both math and English tutorials. The tutorials are pretty structured, but the goal is to infuse energy and creativity into them so that algebra feels like an opportunity, not a chore. On top of tutorials, we also have secondary duties and school responsibilities. So I eat lunch with a 6^th grade homeroom (today was Fish Friday, and before you gag, know that these meals are on point for school lunch and I take an extra one every day for myself), deal with the group of kids who get picked up in cars (versus taking the T or the school bus), and do a lot of random tasks with the operations team. Last week the team and I built cubbies until my fingers fell off.

The Kiddos. After two looooong weeks of training, I was anxious to actually meet my tutees. I don’t want to be the creepy adult divulging personal info about children on the internet, so maybe I’ll just go initials when referring to my babies. Yes, my babies. I love them already. MJ and MG are 8^th grade boys who are good kids but feel like they’re too cool for school. It’s my job to show them that they aren’t. MN and BP are 7^th grade girls who are such 7^th grade girls. They’re the ones who called me out on my flesh-eating rash* and I can tell we are going to have some really lovely bonding moments and some really rough patches. My 6^th graders, NS (girl) and JP (boy, not to be confused with Jamaica Plain), are clearly new to the structure of our school and have a lot of catching up to do academically. After only three days of tutorials, I am already fiercely protective of my cubs and may have secretly chosen professions and long-term aspirations for all of them.

Mr. Sleeping Asian is so peaceful that he has convinced me it is time for me to nap as well, and although I’m sure you’re hanging onto my every word this lovely Friday night, I will save the rest of my insights for the next post. Expect an in-depth comparison on Boston vs. Topeka (spoiler: they have nothing in common).

*Allergic reaction + the first day of school = freakish monster face.

young money

Money is awesome.

It has allowed me to do some pretty fabulous things. Going to Aruba in June was the most recent fabulous thing.

Beyond the Caribbean adventures, my next level obsession is the Melting Pot. Cheese fondue, filet mignon, chocolate-dipped everything = the best meal, but maybe not the most economical. And then there's the simple purchases. You know what I mean: you go to Target for shampoo, & you come out with shampoo, conditioner, makeup, a book, a dress, and some containers. Because I love containers.

The thing about money, though, is that it isn't free. Somebody has to work for it. WHAT? And now that I am officially Working Woman, that's going to be the money I worked for. And for some reason, recklessly spending the money I busted my buns to earn sounds a whole lot less appealing than spending my parents' money or the dwindling remains of my graduation money.

That is why, beginning August 1, I am becoming responsible.

{ responsible: /adj./ saving money instead of spending it; cooking instead of eating out; saying no to a fourth pair of pastel J. Crew shorts; being boring and old }

So I am going to have a budget. I'm going to cook (most of) my own meals. I'm going to find the freest - yo, I tried to make free-est a word; why am I teaching at a school? - activities in Boston.

Starting August 1. Until then...

Oh, hello, friend.

here we go again

Well hello there, my loyal blog-readers. If you've been constantly refreshing your browser for the past 15 months hoping for a glimpse into my post-Australia life, today is your lucky day!!

I have managed to secure a job for next year. That's right: a job. I, whose employment resume includes one summer stint as a high school secretary (a job which I dominated) and a winter break stint as an American Eagle employee (a job which I less than dominated), got a real life paying job. I was 97% sure I'd be running around Topeka in August, begging government offices and mediocre clothing stores for any sort of work and calculating how disappointed my parents were, but alas: the early bird (me) has caught the worm (job).

Beginning in August, I will be working at a school in Boston. I'm sure they will give us a whole presentation on disclosing information via the interwebs, & I don't want to be that confidentiality-breaching girl, so I'll wait to figure out what's approp. But basically I'll be in Boston for a year, teaching middle schoolers and living with other college grads and doing cool Boston things.

Tomorrow is Eric and my 5 year anniversary. Graduation is in less than 3 months. I'll be off to a brand new city in 6 months. Time and space and milestones and AH, it's all so crazy and scary and exciting that it reminds me of the time before my last epic adventure, the one that sparked this oh so popular blog. Australia is still the best thing I've ever done, ever. Not a day goes by I don't have a memory of the beach, or the dorms, or the city, or the ferry, or the pubs, or the people -- mostly the people. I still squeal every time someone mentions Oz because it was home. I will go back, this I know for sure. But for now, time for another adventure!

the end

Well, well, well. A lot has happened in the last few weeks, including a trip to Sydney and another trip to Noosa. Highlights of Sydney: the aquarium (dugongs are perhaps the cutest animals in the world); Opera House; shopping; home-cooked meals courtesy of our lovely host; quality time with J-Rod. Highlights of Noosa: beach; home-cooked meals courtesy of the more domestic of my friends; making new friends; watching the meteor shower on the beach; sleeping on the beach. Although of them were a lot of fun & I could say a lot more about them, I really am consumed with the next trip looming in my future: the trip home.

As I write this, I have less than 8 hours until I go to the airport, where a series of 4 flights will take me back to Kansas over a span of about 24 hours. Not only will it be stressful, boring, and exhausting, but I will be incredibly sad for the duration of the trip. Of course, I am SO excited to see my family, drive my car, watch New Moon with my friends, hang out with Eric, go to Sonic, etc. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I would be devastated if I missed it. But at the same time, I have never felt so bummed about something ending.

The friends I've made here are seriously some of the most hilarious, loving, carefree people I've ever met. I could go on and on about why I love the team, but suffice it to say they are the sole reason I have been crying on and off for the past 24 hours. Don't get me wrong: I love the beach and the sun and the fact that I have been mainly directionless for the last 5 months. I will miss having the opportunity to go snorkeling and skydiving. But in the end, what really breaks my heart is saying goodbye to these people. The saddest part is that, with the exception of Treibs and Biagio, the friends I've made here go to WashU (if only we could convince them to transfer). I really shouldn't be complaining. I am so so thankful that I will have them around next semester. It's just that things will be different. We won't eat every meal together. We won't hang out every single night. It won't just be the 7 of us wandering around in Australia. We are all going back to our normal lives. This is really the end.

Ultimately I am happy that I am so sad. It means this experience has been meaningful. I've had so much fun, done so many cool things, and I like to think I've grown up a little bit. I am so much more carefree and spontaneous than I was before. Although I wouldn't go as far as saying I can take care of myself (let's be real, they cooked me every meal, took out my trash, and even did my laundry), I am definitely more independent.

I am so incredibly grateful to my family for not only allowing me to go halfway across the world, but for encouraging me to make the most of my time here. I have appreciated every card, every care package, every skype chat, and every email. It's so good to know that even though I am leaving people I love, I am coming home to people I love even more.

I'm a pathetic mess right now. I think I'm one of maybe two or three people left in my college, so it's eerily quiet. I have had to say too many emotional goodbyes. Those of you who know me well know that I DO NOT cry, so the fact that I have broken down at least 7 times since last night may come as quite a shock. But this has been the best semester of my life and it's just really, really, really hard to say goodbye to my friends, my lifestyle, my home for the past 5 months. Australia is so amazingly awesome and I cannot wait for our reunion here in 2011 (it's happening).

adventure mode

It's been awhile since I've shared any of the fun/unusual/weird stuff that I'm doing here. It almost seems like I am just a regular student going to class and writing papers. I can't have you thinking that because this is Australia and let's face it, things are just better here. With that, a quick recap of some recent highlights.

Ladies Day: All the girls in my college dress up strangely, walk to a random field, and engage in an afternoon of debauchery.

Friends visiting: Emily's friend Diss came to Brisbane. It's always a good time when we add people to the team. With a majority of Long Islanders in the room, I felt like I needed to be a part of the team. I fit right in, yes?

Picnic: The boys arranged a lovely BBQ in the park. This area of town is called South Bank and there are a bunch of shops, restaurants, and free grills, not to mention a man-made beach. Oh Australia. The real beach is only 2 hours away but it's always smarter to create one 15 minutes away.

Beach: We went to the real beach this past weekend at Byron Bay. It was an intense weekend. We climbed up to this lighthouse. It was the most strenuous exercise I've had in months.

Byron Bay is the most easterly point of the Australian Mainland... as this sign says.

The ocean never gets old.

Halloween: Although Halloween isn't as huge here as in America, we did what we could. I fulfilled a lifelong dream of wearing a headband like that. Also it was an excuse to use my peace sign as much as possible.

Kayaking: I have no pictures from this because my camera cannot afford to be anywhere near water. Kayaking was really intense. I was not good at it. Poor J-Rod had to do all the work and tell me what to do and we still ended up always floating in the wrong direction. Highlight: seeing dolphins 30 feet from us. Lowlight: getting hit in the back with the kayak after we fell out trying to ride a wave. Note to all: kayaking is not as calm and relaxing as it appears (unless you have upper body strength, then it may be okay).

Story time: After Halloween, I had a pseudo phone-breaking incident (because I really cannot keep a phone intact for more than two months at a time). Long story short, I thought my phone was broken and thus couldn't set an alarm (turns out I had put the battery in the wrong way... genius). I was planning on waking up at 6 am to go skydiving. Guess who can't wake up at 6 am without an alarm!? I woke up at 6:45, devastated that I had missed my one chance to go skydiving. I sulked in bed for a few minutes until Christine pops in saying that it had been raining all morning and skydiving had been postponed. I like to think God was so sad I had overslept, he had to shed a few tears for things to work out. Because of the rain, they hadn't left yet so I ran around trying to get ready in 5 minutes. It was stressful and hectic and suddenly I was in a van signing a document that read, "Serious accidents can and often do happen. Don't blame us if you die." Maybe in slightly different words but you get the point.

Skydiving: Fortunately, this story has a happy ending. We got to the skydiving place, got into our harnesses and learned what was going to happen. Of course all the training in the world can't prepare you for the actual jump. We flew up to 14,000 in a tiny, rickety old plane while I was strapped to my tandem master, a small intense woman who does this 12 times a day. It was terrifying and I repeatedly asked myself why in the world I decided to do this when I get scared even jumping off a bunk bed. However there's really not much you can do once you're 14,000 feet in the air. I was second in line so I had the pleasure of watching the first person fly out. They literally push you to the edge of the plane for you to get into position. Position: stick your legs out of plane and bend them back so they're wrapped along the bottom of the plane. Arms are holding the straps of the harness. Head is tilted back. I was expecting some sort of calming statement or at least a countdown but nope, I was sitting there for approximately two seconds when I feel myself FALLING OUT OF AN AIRPLANE.

The initial drop was by far the scariest moment of my life. I have nightmares about falling from heights and here it was actually happening to me. We fell out upside down and I had a moment where I wondered if I was going to die. After about five seconds we had leveled out and from then on I was absolutely amazed. It's a 60 second free fall. It's just indescribable. I was literally flying. When she pulled the parachute I felt a wave of relief. We floated around for a few minutes while I took in the view before safely sliding into the ground. I can't even explain how awesome it was. I would recommend anyone and everyone experience this at least once. It's so cool to be a part of something bigger than yourself.

I got a DVD of the whole experience, which meant that a third guy jumped out of the plane with us and filmed the whole thing. It's fantastic- from the look of absolute terror the moment I jump out to the views of Australia that are in the background. My only grievance is that I paid for pictures too but the guy didn't take any while I was in the air! The only pics are from when I landed. Lame. I stand on the ground all day every day- when's the next time I'll be 14,000 up!? Oh well, the DVD is really awesome. And actually doing it was okay too I guess...

The after shot.

All in all things have been pretty great. Jeanenne and I are going to Sydney tomorrow for three days which will be awesome. After I get back, though, adventure time is over and school time is back on. 5 finals in 5 days. A tragic reminder that even if I can fly, I still have to write papers.