frost?

We spent all of today protecting the farm from frost. Still, probably more than half of the farm remains unprotected. The tomatoes, peppers, and zucchini/yellow squash are covered with either buckets or tarp. But materials are limited, so I suppose many of the plants will die if there is indeed a frost. The forecast is for a low of 34 in Williamstown proper, so with the rise in elevation on the way to the farm, it will be just around 32.

Of course, if it doesn't frost, we will feel silly for having spent the entire day covering the zucchini with buckets. But that's how it goes.

Yesterday, I read the first chapter of The Grapes of Wrath three times. This repetition was mostly because I kept falling asleep. I definitely don't blame the book, and I don't think this was entirely the result of sleep deprivation, for a change. The main thing was that I was trying to read in very sleepy locales: atop a sunny picnic table, in my bed, in my bed the next morning. I think when I read tonight before sleep, I will start with the second chapter.

The seniors are starting to return from their week in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Not all of them went to Hilton Head...I've heard of trips to Nova Scotia, Lake Huron, and some stayed on campus. Senior Week begins on Tuesday, a week to which I have not been invited, but hopefully I will know enough seniors to be able to participate. I was on campus at this time last year, but I only knew about four seniors, so I largely avoided the large gatherings of people.

Last year, when I heard of the senior trip to SC, I didn't really see the point of it. To me, it seemed extravagant and indulgent. I think my opinion of the situation has not changed so drastically, but I'm starting to think that it will be an experience that I indulge in when I am a senior. For much of my life until now, I have considered myself above such communal experiences: aloof, self-contained, independent. I think this phase of my life might be ending. Perhaps it has already ended. Maybe by the time I'm a senior, it won't make as much sense to spend a week gallivanting around Hilton Head; this is something I will know when it comes around. But I think there will be times, and perhaps this will be one of them, when I am willing to compromise my sensibilities in favor of arguably unnecessary socialization.

Because considered in isolation, any socialization could be construed as unnecessary. But then where would I be? In Sawyer, doing homework? Practicing my violin? Both of these things I love to do, but I'm not sure that I would be better off without breaks.

Luggage Mentality

It just got really cold. A couple of hours ago I was baking in the sun and now I am taking cover in my dorm.

We only worked today until lunch, I suppose because it's Saturday. This was probably the most ideal weather so far, a relief after several days of moisture. The storm that has been threatening, both in the forecast and sky, for the last few days, never materialized. Or maybe it did while I slept.

Today after work, Noah and I attempted to teach each other languages. He mostly tried to teach me German, which I remember very little of after my year of high school German. I think the Russian crowded it out of my brain, an organ of finite capacity. I'd like to learn all of the languages, but I don't think that is possible. Especially since I'd be starting so late.

I'll only be in Williamstown for another week, and then I won't return until some time next winter. Once the farm routine has been established, weeks pass really quickly. It's a sort of Luggage Mentality, a concept which I think I invented and into which I put much stock.

According to the Doctrine of Luggage Mentality, if you are on a long car trip and you have an itch on your foot, it's best not to scratch it. As soon as you scratch it, you will have another itch five minutes later. This cycle will continue until you are hot and uncomfortable, and then after a little while, you will be hot, uncomfortable, and itchy instead of just itchy.

If you hold very still and imagine that you are a piece of luggage in cargo, if you separate your mind from its temple, your body, long car trips can be endured with less turmoil. Similarly, in a routine of manual labor, I can count on my body to continue its task, day in and day out, and time moves on forward.

I do enjoy working on the farm, and it's not as though I want it to end quickly. But somehow it is rewarding to transcend the passage of time, to skip through the weeks as if they will never end.

Summer plans intact!

I just heard from the director of the St. Petersburg program that they will be able to process my visa in time. So I will be allowed to go!

I was getting really worried. Not in a panicky way. I just was starting to think that they wouldn't let me go. I'm not sure what I would have done. There were definitely options. It certainly would not have been the worst thing in the world for me to live at home and get a job at Bruegger's, the type of thing that I've never actually done before. But I'm very glad it worked out.

I think I almost died last night of sleep deprivation. Noah and I were listening to Figaro at around midnight. He was reading the libretto (words) and I decided to close my eyes. This was all fine, but I hadn't yet brushed my teeth. So I got up and stumbled to the bathroom. I was more exhausted, I think, then I've been all semester. Something about it was different from all the times I accidentally fell asleep in Goodrich.

I suspect it had something to do with the 4,600 peppers we had planted earlier in the day. My butt is really sore.

I finally fell asleep, but Alex G. called me at around 12:45 am, rightly expecting that I would be awake. I wasn't, so I jumped up when the phone rang and picked up. He sensed that I had just woken up and wanted me to go back to sleep, but I didn't. I didn't want to wake up Noah, so I moved quietly towards my room, but accidentally walked straight into Noah's room.

When I woke up in the morning, I couldn't find my glasses. The problem was compounded by the fact that I can't see without my glasses. Eventually, Noah found them in the bottom of my luggage bag. I have no clue how they might have ended up there.

I'm not sure if this story even makes sense. The other thing that was strange is that I refused to sleep in my bed because I hadn't put sheets on earlier and I was too exhausted to even think about it. So I slept on Noah's sleeping bag in our common room. The whole experience felt like it was slightly out of my control.

Today at the farm, Bill (the farmer) had us get water out of tires, which is surprisingly difficult since at most orientations, the tires have some way of keeping the water in. The best technique was to throw them on the ground with great force so that a little would splash out.

farm

Today on the farm, we planted 4,600 peppers. Now I am sitting in Tyler, my new dorm, in my underwear because I haven't yet been inspired to shower. Noah and I are sharing a double that is more like a common room with two tiny "bedrooms" attached. We are going to move the mattresses into the common room and have slumber parties every night.

Almost almost done

...with the year. I'm sitting in the basement of Sawyer (library) about to complete my final assignment. Apparently for the music theory presentation from a couple of weeks ago, I was supposed to have written a paper on what I said. A sort of historical record - evidence that I said anything at all.

Sawyer is largely vacant at this time of year. Only a few people have tests remaining and the weather is very nice today. I'm not feeling particularly devastated by the fact that I am stuck in the library finishing work a full 24 hours after I thought I would be done. I've done a lot of interacting with other humans over the past couple of days and I am feeling refreshed by the sterile silence of this space.

I just wrote an email to the Student Symphony listserve inviting them to watch Amadeus tonight. I also mentioned that I wouldn't be conducting next year, information that I think is news to most of them. Though I guess people perhaps figured out that I would be abroad. So when I get back in the spring, I will rejoin the violin section full-time.

I think that aside from all of the reasons I have for not conducting (time, stress, kind of just want to play the violin) one big consideration is that even though I like conducting, there's really no reason for me to prevent someone else from conducting after I've been doing it for an entire year. I think I might stick with it if there weren't any other capable and willing prospective conductors, but there are, so why the hell should I hog the podium.

A friend from my entry has joined me at my table. Sort of ruins the silent solitude, but I've had about enough of that for now.

smelt fry!

My friend Lauren and I had a smelt fry the other night. We've been meaning to have a smelt fry for about a month now, and we finally bought the (frozen) smelt a couple of weeks ago. In case anyone is unsure, smelt are miniature fishes. Breaded with some spices and fried in some oil, they are very delicious! I did not mean for this to happen, but I find myself craving fried smelt as I type.

Assuming that the visa fiasco is resolved, my dad was saying that upon my return to the states, we should have a celebratory smelt fry in the back yard. There's just something about fried smelt that brings a smile to my face, warms my spirits. I suggested to Lauren that I could run a smelt fry at her graduation party, and for reasons I have not yet determined, she asked that I not.

I'd really like to fry some smelt tonight, but I have to work on this darned paper.

Lewiston Smelt Festival

impending fiasco

So apparently, when we sent in my old passport to apply for my Russian travel visa, we accidentally sent in my old old passport from when I was a little kid. They told me we would probably be able to get my visa in time for me to participate in the program so long as my parents overnight the correct passport today...I've already come up with a backup plan for the summer, to ask Bill Stinson if I can work on his farm again. And if that doesn't work, maybe I can get a job at the Schenectady JCC pool.

This alternate plan (either alternate plan) would certainly have some advantages and perks...but I'm not sure. It would be a bummer if the visa doesn't go through.

I haven't had anything to eat today. I have to play a friend's string quartet composition at 10:45, in 15 minutes, for a recording. And then the music department bar-b-que!

The Scoop

Right now, I'm in the middle of writing an article for The Scoop, the monthly dining services newsletter. My friend Betsy is the Editor-in-Chief so I'm writing a piece about Driscoll naan and how delicious it is. I'm flopped on one of the couches in Paresky, listening to a Mozart piano concerto.

Everyone else is very busy with finals and papers, but I don't really have much left to work on. So I'm left flopping around in Paresky writing articles about naan. It's so delicious!

Soon I will depart for Russia! I intend to write lots of letters. So...if any of you want a letter from me, you should give me your summer address! I will definitely write letters to anyone who gives me a summer address. I probably won't have many opportunities to talk on the phone and I think I might avoid Skype, so letter-writing will be my primary contact with home.

Skype...one thing is that I've never used it and I'm not sure how to use it. But also, I think it will be helpful for "immersion" to not be holed up in my room, on my computer, on Skype. Letter-writing, for instance, even though it's not a particularly social activity, can be done in someone's living room, in some public space, or whatever.

The thing is, I really have no idea what things will be like. When I say "in someone's living room", I'm thinking of the family I will live with...perhaps they will sit around in the evening reading books or a newspaper, at which point I could sit around with them and write postcards. But perhaps this is just a fantasy.

I'm playing in the commencement band this year. But the violins have been switched from flute parts to clarinet parts...which means we have to transpose!! For anyone who doesn't know, that means the notes that are written are all a certain interval above or below the ones you play. This is very confusing for string players who never have to transpose! Steve, the conductor, is going to transpose the parts for us, but I told him not to transpose mine. This will be a good opportunity for me to learn how to transpose, and I know how some of the melodies sound already, so it won't be so bad. Right now it sounds very funny at rehearsals because half of the time, I forget I'm supposed to be transposing.

I really enjoy playing at commencement. I think of it as my personal, final salute to the graduating class. At Williams, the procession of the graduates is led by a band of bagpipes. We, the band, play in unison with the bagpipes, but we are sitting at the graduates' point of arrival. So sometimes we're not completely coordinated as the bagpipers approach, usually due to complications relating to the speed of sound. But it worked out well enough last year.

Cosi fan tutte

I'm in my room. I just walked back from the Williams Opera performance of Mozart's Cosi fan tutte (Act I). Much of this work is riveted in my brain since I performed the entire work five times this summer and then excerpts with WO over Winter Study. Not that I play in operas all that often, but lately, everyone seems to be programming Cosi. While it would be nice to diversify a bit, I'm happy how things have worked out. I've come to really love the piece; it has truly become a part of me.

I'd like to go to the music party now, but it's pouring rain outside. I have a giant umbrella so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Or maybe it's not the rain. Maybe I just want to be in my room for a bit to catch my breath.

The year is ending so quickly! I really want to have another Student Symphony get-together, but time is short. I need to find a movie for us to watch. Suggestions?

This morning I sat at breakfast for a super long time with three friends, two of whom will be gone next year. I almost wrote "whill" instead of "will". We watched as the Dining Services staff switched everything from breakfast to lunch. I don't think we caused too much of an inconvenience since we stopped eating at least an hour before we left. As I sat, every twenty minutes or so I would sit up straight in my chair as my mind churned through all the things that maybe I should be doing in lieu of my vegetation...but I never came upon anything particularly pressing. So I sat and talked and ate bananas. I guess I didn't stop eating bananas an hour before I left, but those just stay out.

As I walked back to my dorm, I came upon a bit of a laundry crisis (not to mention my shower crisis). These challenges I met with ease and panache.

Shapeshift

This is another "break from work" post. I have to write a ten-page paper by tomorrow morning that I haven't started. Not to be melodramatic about it. I've thought about it a decent amount and I've got some time to work. My main concern is that I'll spontaneously fall asleep and then wake up after the paper was due. I just woke up from a 15-minute power nap. The type of nap that was going to happen whether I wanted it or not, so best to set my alarm and call it a power nap.

For my English class, we've read approximately ten books of poetry/prose during the semester. I've chosen to write about Shapeshift by Sherwin Bitsui. He is a Diné (Navajo) author and has written poetry/prose about Navajo Nation and, happily for me, the specific area that I visited over spring break. So I am having a lot of fun reading and rereading the poems, thinking of things to think about, maybe to write, and finding connections between different elements of the text. It's very exciting when I recognize a name, place, or idea. Or even just the landscape.

In Shapeshift, Bitsui writes about language. The Diné (Navajo) language is dying as the younger generation increasingly learns English first in order to participate competitively in contemporary US society:

Five years ago, my language hit me like saw-toothed birds reaching to pull my tongue from my mouth. I didn’t know what to expect when my grandmother poured gasoline on the leaves and then fired it, saying, This is the last time I’ll ever harvest. It was the way the sunset caught her cracked lips, the way her lips folded inward, which made me realize that there were still stories within her that needed to be told, stories of when we still wove daylight onto our bones and did not live like we do now, as night people.

Bitsui repeatedly evokes imagery of blood, often contaminated, spine, marrow, tongue, veins, and nerves. In this excerpt, Bitsui incorporates myriad elements but with striking economy of language:

When one dreams of a mouth covered in white chalk,
speaking only in English,
it is a voice that wants to be cut free from a country whose veins swim with axes
and scissors.

Just for the record, I really don't like literary analysis. I took this class because I've never liked literary analysis and I thought maybe that would change. It has a tiny bit. I'm less afraid of it now, anyway. But it's really not my thing. So I'm surprised and happy to be enthused about the paper.

I only have two classes left tomorrow. After that, I won't have another class at Williams until next February. I also had my last Jewboard meeting until next February. Weird!

no more changes

I'm taking a short break from work. So this post can't take as long as they usually do.

My piece, an elaborate, edited version of my April 16 post, came out today in Monkeys with Typwriters, a non-fiction essay magazine at Williams. Some people have told me that they liked it, but I'm not so sure about the whole thing. After having spent a while editing and tweaking the story, it feels somewhat contrived. The whole process also brought back nasty memories of writing essays for college applications.

Though I have mixed feelings about the whole ordeal, I think I might do it again. Now that I've been through it once, the instinctive shock of revealing a rather personal occurrance to the whole campus might not be so disturbing. And given how much I appreciate and enjoy some of the other pieces, I'm sure someone must get something out of mine.

If no one gets anything out of mine, I blame the editors for publishing it in the first place.

It really is different than blog-writing. I mean to say, regardless of whether it is different, it really does feel different. I don't know why. If anything, a blog more public. Maybe it's because I know that on here, I have a regular readership of about twelve (Hi, regular readership!), while a big chunk of the campus at least glances at Monkeys.

But I am rather surprised that I feel this way. I didn't think I would really care. I suppose it was particularly jarring to see them lying around because I had been meaning to email one of the editors asking him when was the absolute latest I could make some changes.

I'm learning Morse code. So far, I can tap my name. If anyone reading this knows Morse code, please tell me so! We can practice with each other. Or if anyone wants to learn with me. Right now I am very lonely because no one understands my tapping. I tapped, "Hi, Zina!" to Zina, and she just stared at me blankly.

crazy glasses?

It's surprising how something that I thought I didn't care about can blow up when someone else thinks I care about the thing. And of course, if I reiterate that I don't care about the thing, then it just seems like I'm in denial. And by now, I've spent so much time thinking about the thing that I've started to genuinely care about it. I'm so malleable.

I haven't supplied any details about this particular thing, partially because I don't feel like it and partially because I suspect the principle applies to a variety of things.

Perhaps all of this means I should care less about what people think.

I think caring about what other people think is underrated. Of course I don't mean that you (or I) should always act to please others. But it seems like even thinking about, considering what other people think is taboo. I'm not sure I understand why.

For example, the last time I went to get new glasses frames after my old ones broke, I wanted to get a pair with thick circular rims. I thought it was a great idea, but then I became a bit self-conscious thinking about what other people might think. Each time I met a new person, he or she would almost certainly notice my glasses first. This prospect worried me. I cut my hair for the same reason. I don't want people to judge me based on my appearance, so I maintain a rather bland appearance. Sure, then some people think I'm bland, but I think this is an easier first impression to surmount.

Maybe not. I'm not even sure if this is an effective approach. Now that I think about it, lots of people do think I'm bland at first. I'm pretty sure lots of the people who hang out with me have concluded that I'm somewhat less bland than they originally thought. So maybe I should go get some crazy glasses and people will be primed to think I'm interesting. I don't know why I said blandness is an easier first impression to surmount. That doesn't make any sense.

And somehow, I'm back to caring about what people think. I think most people do.

Perhaps if someone can convince me that I care about something, it means that I in fact did care about the thing all along and I just hadn't admitted it to myself.

impending return to the farm

Tonight is the sophomore dinner and formal. All of the sophomores are supposed to go and bond. I might not stay for very long at the formal...not to mention that I usually end up leaving from that sort of thing early, I've a good amount of work to finish on Sunday. But supposedly they will feed me salmon at the dinner.

It's starting to look like summer around here. I found a 2009 Williamstown Theatre Festival brochure lying around. I only saw one show last summer: Not Waving, written by Ellen Melaver. The poster is on my wall. Mimi and I kept trying to get to a show, but I was always dirty and tired after the farm and there were lots of other things to do (make food, track down Trevor and Alicia, practice, read). We finally made it over in August during one of the many nights punctuated by 5:00 thunder.

When the thunder came a bit earlier, it would signify the end of our workday at the farm. Probably more than half of the days last summer we would be assaulted by torrential rain for 20 minutes or so, to be immediately followed by beautiful clear skies with some pinkish clouds as the sun settled. When it rained heavily on the farm, a furious flood of water raced across the trenches that surround the field and then into the woods, down the valley.

It's so completely bizarre for me to think that I'll be back on the farm in just a couple of weeks. A year has gone by since my first day last summer and my sophomore year has barrelled through my life as I once knew it. Of late, I have distracted myself from the broad passage of time in so many directions by means which I suspect, to varying degrees, are irreversible.

approaching the year's end

And suddenly, for a brief and glorious interval, everything stops. I am sitting in Sawyer with very little to do. Certainly nothing is due tomorrow and I'll have some free time this weekend to get everything else done. I am surrounded by zombie workers who, perhaps, think I am writing a paper.

I spent much of today at the J chopping tomatoes for the salsa for the Friday night dinner. Since no one else was there for most of the time, I was allowed to choose music! I listened to all four Brahms symphonies. I miss Noah, with whom I studied Brahms symphonies in our conducting class. They made him so happy.

I ate dinner with good company at a picnic table in the middle of Paresky lawn. I keep thinking about how in a few weeks, a good chunk of the sophomore class will disappear from my life for something like 14 months. I've been slowly learning from people, mostly in passing conversation, that they'll be gone for the entire year or for the spring, when I will be not gone.

Maybe this is why I have been being so sociable lately. Well, one of the reasons.

No time to waste, eh?

Not to mention the seniors. I wonder how many of them I will stay in touch with. Though I liked or admired many of them, I didn't really connect with any of the '08 seniors. I'd like to think that this year has been different, at least in certain cases.

fallout

I'm about to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. Hooray! This morning the last 48 hours caught up to me. I accidentally fell asleep at 5am and then didn't wake up until 10. I missed music theory and had to skip Russian to finish my history paper which I was supposed to have completed a few hours earlier.

Having brought the whole situation upon myself, it's a relief that my body kicked in, got me some sleep, and hopefully limited the damage to my academic career and overall health.

I'm lying on my bed in my room. Sometimes after a few days like this I feel like I've been cheating on my room. I don't do any reading in here because I'll fall asleep, guaranteed, regardless of the time of day. So when I've got some sort of work marathon, I'm always in Goodrich or the library or whatever. Then as soon as I fall back in my room I brush my teeth and pass out for the night without even noticing where I am.

I'll only be living here for a few more weeks and I don't want my room to feel unloved.

It's really nice that they give us rooms and not bunk beds in a big hall or something. I suppose it's reasonable for them to give us rooms since we pay for them. I wonder what would happen if colleges instituted some sort of group housing with no real amenities. Like in boot camp. Certainly people wouldn't complain much if they didn't know any other way. But even if they did, I wonder...would a culture emerge? Would we be disdainful of colleges where students lived in private rooms, like kings? Life would be very different. I suppose they would separate the genders. Or maybe they would at Williams, but probably not at all schools. After all, would that accomplish so much in our somewhat sexually liberated society?

It would be much more difficult to have secrets. Maybe that would be OK. What the hell do we have secrets about, anyway? Nuclear non-proliferation? What is so important in my life that someone else can't know it? Nothing I can think of, off the top of my head. Only things that other people told me not to tell people.

time

So I ended up going to everything but the Elizabethans. I intend to go to an Elizabethans concert before I graduate.

10:52 pm and I haven't started my work for the weekend. I only have a Russian essay due tomorrow but things will start to pile up on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Arguably I have been extremely irresponsible. The main reason I haven't done any work is because I have taken advantage of each successive opportunity to do something social. I might as well count going to recitals as something social; even though I enjoy listening to the performances, I attend primarily in support of friends. I spent a long time last night keeping someone company in the art studio when I probably should have been working, I went to the NBC show on Friday and then a friend's birthday party, I spent this morning at the jewboard brunch...I prioritized everything ahead of work. When I had a break between recitals, I sat around with other people in the music lounge who were half-dead from all the recitals instead of taking an hour here and there to do some reading. I just spent a couple of hours at Teng Jian's dinner party and now I'm writing in my flippin blog.

Though I'll be royally screwed over the next few days as the pile engulfs me, I am somehow happy right now. I've skipped recitals in the past because of work and it has never made things that much better for me. I suppose in the future it would be best to achieve some sort of balance. It would also be nice if not everyone had their recitals on the same weekend. Just saying!

I think I might have lost my last smidge of self-discipline. I assume that this is a phase and it will return to me at some point in the future. I'm certain that I'll get it back in St. Petersburg. Just a phase.

I'm just not sure if I'd want to miss everything that's going on around me for the sake of being on top of my work. Maybe my work doesn't really matter. I know my work will start to matter more some time in the future, but at this point in the semester, if I can pull off decent grades, it might not worth it to put everything into classes. None of my classes have clicked like my history class last semester, for which I worked during all of my spare moments.

Perhaps this is my fault. Distractions have been plentiful in the last few months, most of them wholly self-inflicted. You get what you put in, yes? So, my fault. But maybe I'm getting more out of the other things that I didn't put so much into before.

On the nights that I have the opportunity to sleep for a decent amount, I often find myself staying up just as late. It just seems like a shame to have such a short day.

I understand that this is absurd.

keeping perspective

I've been trying to meet lots of new people lately, but I can't keep up with all of their names. So lots of times I'll recognize someone and not remember his or her name. But I'll want to say hi, so about half the time, I say "Hi! I'm sorry, I don't remember your name," and half the time I'll just say "Hi!"

Part of the problem is that most sophomores aren't meeting lots of new people, especially at the tail end of the year, and so I'm the only one wandering around campus not remembering anyone.

A whole pile of people are having senior recitals tomorrow and then the Student Symphony dress rehearsal is from 8-10. If I go to the Elizabethans' concert, which I'd sort of like to go to since I've never been to one, there will be performances from 12:30 - 7:30 with no breaks. I think I might just go to them all. My idea is that even if I go to only half of them, my day will still be pretty much shot. And I know all of the performers...and some of them came to my recital...and I think it's important to go to these things.

In one of the books for my history class, I found this quote of Lee Iacocca, former president of Ford and then Chrysler in the 70s and 80s:

I'm constantly amazed by the number of people who can't seem to control their own schedules. Over the years, I've had many executives come to me and say with pride: "Boy, last year I worked so hard that I didn't take any vacation." It's actually nothing to be proud of. I always feel like responding: "You dummy. You mean to tell me that you can take responsibility for an $80 million project and you can't plan two weeks out of the year to go off with your family and have some fun?"

What a great approach. I'm partially posting this so that I remember it. Even though I totally agree with Lee, it's awfully difficult to keep things in perspective with everyone hollering about deadlines and other things.