Things about Mary Travers

Growing up, I was never a kid who sat in their room staring at the ceiling while listening to music and feeling the lyrics deep in my soul. To be honest, I just didn’t care about music all that much.  I was the anti-teenager in that respect.  Sure, I liked random teen-centric angsty stuff from the early 2000’s (punk/emo stuff like the Ataris, New Found Glory), and went to Warped Tour a couple of times, but… I also dug U2… and Frank Sinatra… and Jump, Little Children. And I went to Lillith Fair.  Really, I tended to (and still do) like songs over bands.

But there was always Peter, Paul, and Mary.

Thanks to my parents, who were teenagers of the late 50s/60s, I grew up going to Peter, Paul, and Mary concerts every summer for as long as I can remember.  My parents actually wanted to get married to Noel Paul Stookey’s “The Wedding Song” but the priest wouldn’t let them (damn Catholic dogma).  PP&M was a constant on the radio in our house and there was always the annual trip to meet up with my godparents’ family on a warm summer night to sit on the lawn at Ravinia (always near the dog statue), and listen to PP&M.

Peter, Paul and Mary shaped my childhood. My social justice roots started early, I suppose.  I still cry when I listen to “Home is Where the Heart Is”… because… well, I’m supercool like that, I suppose.

On September 16th, 2009, Mary died due to complications of treatment for leukemia.  Her passing had more coverage than I’d expect, but still relatively little.

The rest of the world had their foundations rocked when MJ died. To be honest, I couldn’t have cared less.  But Mary Travers?  Mary Travers dying seems to have officially signaled the end of my childhood.

Anything I can think to say is sappy and two weeks overdue at this point.  But, basically… thanks, Mary, for being a huge part of shaping who I am.

(Wanted to find a different video, but I can’t find it on youtube, and Leaving on a Jet Plane is bad assed, so… this’ll do.)

10/4/09 ETA: Found the video I was looking for – I Have a Song to Sing, O!

This song is, I suppose, one of their lesser known ones, but definitely flitted through my house growing up. No idea which album it’s on, but I love it and recently rediscovered it while stalking down youtube videos of PP&M since hearing the news about Mary

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Things about Milton Bradley

Dear Milton Bradley:

Remember when I was at that game you threw the ball into the crowd with 2 outs? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember when I was at that game where you dropped two balls in right field in one game, and struck out every time you were at the plate? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember the entire month of June? And May? Oh, and April, too? Yeah. Forgiven.

With some trepidation, I rallied around you one more time when you swore you “were back 100%” in late July, and I proceeded to give you more chances, because, hell, you’re on the team I love, ergo, you are automatically a beneficiary of some of my hopeless but perpetual optimism.

Really. I’m a Cubs fan. I stick by my team through thick and thin. I suffer through pain and disappointment on a yearly basis. A lot of disappointment.  And I forgive. I don’t boo players on my team or the opponent’s, ‘cuz I think that’s asshatty.

But seriously? All that being said?

Get off my fucking team.

You are the worst parts of baseball all rolled into one.

Get off my team.

Get off my team.

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Things about having no money

I’m officially a grad student now, living off my savings until the day I’ll inevitably need to break down and get loans, which will be a day I spend about three hours sobbing on the floor and bemoaning the realities of debt (which, hopefully, if I budget well won’t be until next August).

In order to prolong that blessed occasion as much as possible, and, really, because I’ve always been a miser, I’m attempting to save money and cut corners in as many ways as possible.  Granted, I’m not being as stringent or good as I was while in JVC – ie, I’ve treated myself to several lunches and/or dinners out since being here – but in my defense most of those meals are still in the sub-$5 or $10 range.

Still, there is one cost cutting activity I’m currently doing which I’m not actively telling (nor, per se “lying to”) my family about: I’m sleeping on an air mattress on the floor. And plan to for the foreseeable future.

The original plan was to sleep on the air mattress until I found a bed at goodwill or something cheap at IKEA. Maybe even a Craigslist free list procurement.

But… after 3 days of accidentally sleeping on an heirloom bedframe (long story) I discovered my air mattress is actually rather comfortable when on the floor.  I’m sure there’s literature available about how air mattresses are terrible for your back/muscles/brain/credit score and such other statistics, but right now? It’s working for me. Plus, not having to drive someplace in Boston and get hopelessly lost trying to find something to sleep on sounds like a better plan to me.

So that’s one of the nice little factoids of my life that just… doesn’t quite garner a mention in my phone calls and emails home.

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Things about special elections

Apparently I like to live in areas where there are special elections decided on the winner of the primary before the actual special election – first the IL-05 (Hi, Mike Quigley!), and now the MA-Sen (sniff, Teddy).  Which, in reality, actually just means that I live in ridiculously democratic areas.

Yeah. I’m okay with that.

Okay, so it’s not as local politics as say, the Boston Mayoral race, but hey! I’ve only been here a few weeks.  Give me time to learn the players on the stage first.

But still… special elections are ridiculously bad ass.  Mostly because only a small proportion of the population eligible to vote gives a damn.  Oh, representative democracy, you saucy temptress, you.

PS, and only slightly related: I’m now FB friends with Mike Quigley.  Um… because I’m REALLY cool.  I sort of want to ask him if he’s actually riding his bike to work in Washington.

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Things about not having a job

This is the first time since I was 15 years old that I have not had a job. At all. That’s 9+ years of employment ended. And what’s more, I’m not sure I’m going to get one, since I’m taking an [apparently] insane amount of credits, which is 18 this semester.  So while I would like to have a job – or barring that, at least an unpaid internship which excuses my conscience from not bringing in money but makes my resume happy – I’m not sure that my school load will allow me to do this.

Somehow or another, though, with absolutely no income to speak of… I seem to be spending more money.  Since I know I can’t replace it, I just keep mentally saying, “Screw it” and deciding everything I want is an “investment” anyhow. (Can jeans be an investment? You decide, because my mental acrobatics which swing me between Guilt and Fuck it have given up.)

I really don’t understand how the mathematics of ‘Make no money’ = ‘Spend more money’.

Let’s see how things are in 2 months when my bank account is actually zero.  It’ll be awesome.

ps – No, it won’t.

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Things about health care

I can’t really say it better than this. Plus, I can’t draw better than this either, so why try:

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Things about HOLY SHIT BOSTON STREETS

Oh, hey, I moved to Boston. Yeah.

I don’t know what the fuck the founders of Boston were drinking when they put together Boston’s streets, but I think they may have overdone it.

I’m pretty damn good with maps and directions and geography, so imagine my surprise when I arrived in Boston and immediately turned in 17 wrong directions.  Seriously.  I’ve never seen a city with LESS sense in its urban planning and development. It actually makes anit-sense.

It’s like someone threw spaghetti down on a map of foggy Boston Bay area back in the 1700s and was like, “I shall design this array of spaghetti-strewn geniusness as streets! The pasta gods have deemed it so!”

I don’t know who to blame for changing street names every 4 blocks. That seems like something that could have been fixed in the past 300 years or so. Lazy gits.*

Impressively ridiculous, Boston.

Tomorrow means time to get out my bike… so I can get hopelessly lost in Boston by a 3rd type of transportation in a week.

* Actually, when I expressed my displeasure re: Boston streets to a former Bostonian, his reply was something along the lines of: “Bostonians were too busy saving everyone’s candy asses from the redcoats to care about streets, motherfucker!”

Alright, fine. That’s a half valid excuse at least.

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