Graduation Déjà Vu

It seems as if I graduated with my Bachelor's degree in English last year. After all, I did complete all of my graded assigned requirements, bought my cap and gown (skipped on the Honor's tassels--$14?!), participated in Commencement, received my empty diploma, smiled for pictures, had a party, etc. ... Oh, wait a minute, that's right, I never turned in my ungraded Writing Portfolio! The Writing Portfolio for Eastern Connecticut State University consists of a collection of an English major's writing over their time at ECSU, as well as a 300-word essay on what being an English major means to them. Well, I thought it was bullshit, so I never did it. Until March of this year.

I just got a letter from Eastern basically stating, "Congratulations! You've now passed all of our requirements for graduation." So now, instead of having a printing of a 2008 graduation date, my diploma will be printed with a 2009 graduation date. Big deal. I still graduated a year ago. Chalk another score under the "W" column for this guy.

Stand Up and Rock the Boat

As fate would have it, it turns out that I'm going to be in an off Broadway production of Guys & Dolls tomorrow evening. My girlfriend, as some of you know, is a theater major at Roger Williams University. A mutual friend of ours, who was also a RW graduate, had some folks drop out of the show a week before, leaving him scrambling to fill their places. Now, the last time I graced the stage was over a decade ago, for our high school play ... Guys & Dolls. I know the music, some of the dance movements, and I have a pretty good idea of the blocking, which, apparently, makes me an ideal last minute candidate for the role of "Male Chorus Member."

Luck, be a lady these next two days?

On Belay!

For my position as a Wilderness Counselor this summer at Camp, I am spending two full days, along with a dozen other Camp folks, receiving Tower training for our adventure component of the Hero's Journey program. (To read about a good friend currently on a hero's journey, click here and make sure you read his post for April 22, 2009. *If you are Skip and reading this, three things: 1) Conserve your chi, (2) I love you, Brother, and (3) I'm proud of you.) I've been climbing since my year in AmeriCorps, when my roommate took me outside the dorm on our first night there to show me how to traverse bouldering routes on holds that were held fast to the side of the building. Climbing on the Tower at Camp however is a lot different, and I am improving my ken of the sport of climbing by learning about the ropes, knots, and tools of climbing, as well as how and when to use them. Yesterday, we went over identifying routes and belaying; today, we are going to learn more about repeling and rescue climbing.

After a day of climbing, the four other members of the HJ program and I walked down through our sites, and some areas of the Connecticut wilderness we hope to incorporate into the program this year. The sun was low in the sky, gildering the fallen pine needles on the forest floor. Brad, one of the staff, dug up some bulbs of a ramp, a wild scallion, and a few of us delighted in this garlicky treat. The Bigelow Creek was gurgling below us, and above us, the wind was strong enough to make thin pine trees dance. For me, it was a moment of spring bliss, and I look forward to calling these woods my home this summer.

The Manny Diaries

I know, I know, it's been weeks since my last post. In the past five weeks, I have managed to find a part time job as a "manny" (male nanny) for a five year old girl in Warren, Rhode Island, two days a week. Spring has come to New England, so we try to spend as much time outside as we can, coloring the pavement with chalk, identifying plants, trees, and insects, and running around the playgrounds of Bristol County. When the weather is not cooperative with these activities, we build forts and play with dolls. I have played "Barbies" more hours this month than I have in my entire life. ... That's not completely true.

When I'm not playing with Barbies, I've been working on the "Little Shop of Horrors" set at Roger Williams University. The set itself is like a life-sized dollhouse, so I had plenty of insight and recommendations on its construction. I attended my first show last night and the production is a theatrical, and technical, success.

Bolos for Breakfast, Before Pounding the Providence Pavement

Bolos are Portuguese versions of the English muffin and they are delicious. I slather them with butter every morning, and then watch Lifetime for the remainder of the day; this is luxury for the unemployed in East Providence, Rhode Island.

Today however, after my nap, I drove around Providence, getting to know my new city, while stopping in at various restaurants to fill out applications. There is a burger joint that looked kind of fun...

Yesterday, Casey and I spent part of the day volunteering at the Covenant Soup Kitchen in Willimantic, Connecticut, the town which hosts my alma mater, Eastern Connecticut State University. After lunch was over, I went over to the university and finally submitted my Writing Portfolio, which means that I can now be awarded my diploma, even though (not officially) I graduated last year. I guess I won't know which year I technically graduated in until I see that diploma. It feels weird to have nothing, officially, hanging over my head anymore.

Of the jobs that I have been applying for, one would be driving an ice cream and lemonade truck all over Providence, while another job I applied for would entail constructing 50' of Connecticut stone wall on private property. I am qualified for neither of these jobs, but they both sound like fun. I think now would be a good time in my life to hold down the three simultaneous part time jobs of my dreams: Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker.

East of Providence

prov⋅i⋅dence

–noun

1.	(often initial capital letter) the foreseeing care and guidance of God or nature over the creatures of the earth.

2.	(initial capital letter) God, esp. when conceived as omnisciently directing the universe and the affairs of humankind with wise benevolence.

3.	a manifestation of divine care or direction.

---

Origin:
1300–50; ME < class="ital-inline">prōvidentia foresight, forethought. See provident, -ence

Prov⋅i⋅dence

  a seaport in and the capital of Rhode Island, in the NE part, at the head of Narragansett Bay. 156,804.

I packed my car and drove up to East Providence last Tuesday; knowingly, I was not feeling well; unknowingly, I had a fever of 100.9. By the time I arrived in Bristol, RI, it was all I could do to give Casey a big hug, before passing out in her bed for the next three days. She is a good nurse. After a trip to the doctor's and some strong antibiotics, she pushed fluids and rest on me till I was well enough to move into my own place. While I will still be on the medicine for a few days, both my appetite and strength are already returning to me.

I have not yet acquainted myself with my new city, nor has Providence seen my true face. From my vantage point over the bridge in East Providence, Providence seems like one of those cities set in a snow globe, only substitute rain for snow. There are few skyscrapers, and a lot of bricks--I like bricks.

Although I have only been here less than a week, I have seen two shows already and opted out of a third. Friday night, I attended a Millis, Massachusetts, community theater performance of Grease, unedited, with 14 year-olds delivering lines about "gangbangs" and teenage pregnancy. It was awkward. After that experience, I opted out of a Saturday night performance of The Bald Soprano at Roger Williams University, as an Absurdist play would have drained the little bit of strength that had returned to me. Last night however, I saw a very powerful perfomance of The Secret Rapture by the Trinity Repertory Company, and my faith in live theater has been restored, a little. I'm sure after tonight's show by members of the Second City troupe, I should be recommending live performances again.

Wax On, Wax Off, Wax Philosophic

Within the week, I am moving to East Providence, Rhode Island, where I will be renting a basement apartment from a Rabbi and his wife, who has purple hair. The apartment needs some work: the ceiling has exposed pipes and water-damaged tiles, the carpet could use either a good vacuuming or a good tossing (I'm not sure which yet), the single bed needs to be replaced with the wobbly futon which sits just outside, etc. My hope is to turn this apartment into a hookah den, with an Arabic motif. Hang a tapestry over the exposed pipes ... ... I really don't know much about Arabic interior decorating.

The reason I am moving to Rhode Island is to be closer to Casey. It's been hard being apart for all of this time, and the more we have to say "goodbye" to each other, the more difficult it becomes. We've become even closer since our travels through Europe; we now have the kind of intimacy where I can lay on my stomach chatting with her roommates while she waxes the patch of hair on the small of my back. True story.

So, once again I am making my preparations for another big move. In the midst of packing, a lot of things are getting donated to Good Will, items that have not been used or worn in years, and have only lasted this long for the scant sentimental value they hold. It's good for the soul to get rid of these things. Years ago, when my OCD was worse than it is now, I used to keep my finger and toe nail clippings. I did this for years, every one. There is an actual DSM-IV medical diagnoses for this condition, but it escapes me now, although I know that it is categorized under Compulsive Disorders. Yep, finger and toe nails. My urine, for a short time. A bag of feces outside under the deck--only one time.

I have a chronic condition in which my ears produce an excessive amount of wax. Every 4-6 months or so I have to flush them out, and every time, a black mass, a little smaller than a dime, washes out into the bowl under my ear; I used to keep these too. This week, I took a picture instead, threw the mass away, and thought about how healthy I've become. :)