here today

 

the interview part 2

we arrived one by one, smiling and shaking hands asking all the right questions.  sizing up the competition, letting the professor's wife take the lead and the crazy guy from Berkely hug the interviewer and make the rest of us look good.

we arrived one by one and were interviewed together first then singly. 

We were interviewed together which means that crazy guy talked a lot using his hands to let us know how blessed he felt to be there and the shy 4th grade teacher was a secret poet and I spoke last after carefully constructing paragraphs in my head and the interviewer nodded at all of us careful not to betray her biases her thoughts her leanings.  We didn't know if there were six spots open or one or none at all so we preened and prattled and verbally jostled each of us wanting this for our own reasons.

Alone with the interviewer she asked me how I will handle the commute, the flights, creating my own deadlines softball questions with only one answer and we smiled at each other I made her laugh and I knew I was in.

Alone with myself on the drive back to VivaBush! my family watching Everybody Loves Raymond and it's the last show of the season so nobody wants to talk to me about something so real as graduate school when there is television and the Last Show of the Season and so alone with myself I'm not so sure about any of it.

On May 31st letters will be mailed or maybe I will get a phone call ? depends on the mood of the Admissions Committee.  Meanwhile I'm thinking about the smell of honeysuckle, chili verde, a library filled with beautiful old books. 

Meanwhile I wait.

Posted by: 120pages at 16:03 | link | comments (3) |

the interview

in southern california along the coast it smells like honeysuckle.  it smells like honeysuckle and the sun is always out but the breeze from the ocean keeps me - the girl from Oregon whose ancestors came mostly from the fjords --- the breeze from the ocean which carries with it the smell of honeysuckle keeps me the Norwegian girl from Oregon cool and happy. 

Inland it's not so nice.  Inland the houses all look the same and driving to my sister's place always means calling her and making her stand outside and wave to me and even then she looks like every other blond haired blue eyed tummy tucked hotpants tight t-shirt mom on the block.  the VivaBush! bumpersticker on the new car would help me find my way if I didn't block it out with my I'm going to get along with my family on this visit rose-colored glasses.

I started inland on saturday with VivaBush! and the pool that lights up at night and bad art in Expensive Frames  - art so bad it's not even signed - and family gathered around a television as large as my cubicle at the insurance agency and a house stocked with fake vanilla creamer which means morning without coffee because if I drive in search of it the good stuff I won't be able to find my way back.  Being directionally challenged in a place where every house looks the same all of them the color of dust and every person looks the same golden tan white teeth means I stay inside and play with Buster the dog who is usually ignored by everyone except the baby niece who tortures him.

The baby niece likes to scream until she gets her way which is usually just a few minutes after she starts screaming but long before I'm ready to scream, too.

I started Inland with the family and the VivaBush! bumperstickers and moved west to the coast with the ocean breeze carrying the smell of honeysuckle.  I ate at Julian's with chili verde corn tortillas piles of spice Ice Cold Negra Modelo washed it down and made me smile.  Made me smile to be away from the desert and the Big Screen TV.  Made me smile to be on my own terms on my own yes and I'll talk about the interview tomorrow.   Right now I'm tired and the people at the insurance agency have questions that went unanswered yesterday and this morning I flew in this morning drove straight here glasses instead of contacts coffee wearing off too quickly.

Posted by: 120pages at 15:41 | link | comments (3) |

new york new york

tomorrow I leave for my interview in southern CA and I'm still spinning from the smells, the sounds, the energy of manhattan.  we stayed in the village where the people are beautiful and the streets wind around and maps are useless but I didn't care because I was born without a sense of direction anyhow so I tend to wander around even my own city until I recognize something or someone and then I smile and go about my business.

I don't mind getting lost I tell people.  I was born lost and what does lost mean anyhow.

on the subway ride to hear Chris Potter and his tentet play gorgeous but I must admit a little boring melodies, a woman let everyone know that they could dip her in sauce.  She had a rap street poem all about it, hat down over her face, expensive purse, crazy but in some ways more musically interesting than the jazz we would hear later.  Next to her two women bemoaned the new addition to their office staff.  Where're we gonna put her? they asked.  There's no place for her.  Didn't even know she was coming.  Didn't even know. 

so the subway ride went like this:

(brooklyn accent) Where're we gonna put her?
(crazy lady with hat)  I'm like a chicken wing need some sauce
(brooklyn) didn't even know. she just showed up this morning eight o'clock.
(crazy)  barbeque's the best but tandoori will do in a pinch.  pinch me.
(brooklyn) Stan never tells nobody nothing then I spend my lunch hour - my lunch hour! cleaning out that cube we've been using for storage on the sixth floor you know the cube.
(crazy) barbeque sauce.
(crazy) just cover me in sauce.

back in portland and our grass comes up to my knees.  Lucy hides in it like a lion and I'm waiting to cut it because after new york any kind of greenery gives me some peace.

so yeah.  wish me luck.

Posted by: 120pages at 11:32 | link | comments (2) |