Gambino is a Mastermind

For as much as I love music, I never go to concerts. Honestly, I’ve only ever been to two in my life. One was in August of 2008 when I went with my brother to see Radiohead at Blossom Music Center. The second was Sunday night when I went with Amanda to see Donald Glover / Childish Gambino at the Black Cat in DC.

Even though I finished with finals on Thursday of last week, I stuck around DC three extra days so I could see the sold-out concert. It was a great decision. He delivered a nice blend of stand-up with rap.  Donald Glover spent about a half an hour doing jokes about Justin Beiber, Reggie Bush, and being co-workers with Ken Jeong and Alison Brie.

The second part of his act, after a brief interlude of a couple videos reminiscent of his time with Derrick Comedy, was his music. He rapped and sang for a solid hour. Most of his songs were tracks from his self-released EP.  The nice thing about a Childish Gambino show is that it’s not just him standing up with a producer on a computer in the background making beats. Instead, he’s got a drummer, bassist, violin player, and guitarist/computer mixer. His clever lines make it pretty obvious he’s got a brain in his head. I mean, the guy did graduate from Tisch School of the Arts with a degree in Dramatic Writing. He also had a job writing for 30 Rock before he was 25. A fact which he references during one of his songs.  A lot of people give Glover flak for being a “white rapper.” And, while he did write a lot of material for Jack Donaghy, and despite a pasty-skinned girl from the suburbs like me liking him, the crowd was pretty diverse.

In the end, he performed a high-energy show. I laughed, I danced, I sang along. Okay, and maybe I ogled a bit, too. What’s a girl to do? But all in all, he put on a great show. I’d go see him again in a heartbeat. A very quick, fluttery, excited heartbeat that belies how very in love with him I am.

It’s fine.

This is a video of him performing at the Black Cat during the encore. No, my spot wasn’t quite as good. I was about three rows of people back and stage left. And, yes, he did the entire encore shirtless. It was the best going away present ever.

Midterms Are Here and I’m Still Smiling

Despite that it’s midterm season, I’m in a pretty good mood. I’ve reconciled with the fact that I’ll be spending most of this evening reading, underlining, highlighting, memorizing and, quite possibly, flash-carding. It’s fine. I’ve also got to come up with a paper topic and clear another with a professor. Then study some more, write a literary review, yadda yadda yadda, no one cares.

You can’t bring me down. The weather is perfect: it’s 60 degrees and raining with a dash of thunderstorm thrown in. I couldn’t be happier. Also, we’re getting a dorm guest at the end of this week. Amanda’s best friend is spending his spring break in DC and staying in my room. It’s basically going to be a week-long slumber party. I couldn’t be more thrilled. And, while he really get’s here on Friday, it’s not actually that far away, because, as Amanda edified me: Tuesday’s doesn’t count, because sometimes it’s a leap year. Perfectly logical.

But maybe my favorite thing that I’ve discovered recently is this site, Save the Words. It’s basically a project trying to keep more obscure words in use. You can adopt a word, get a word on a t-shirt, learn stuff. It’s just the best.

Generation X, Y, Z… HP?

I’m 19 years old and I never received my letter from Hogwarts. I’ve been waiting for 8 years. I’m starting to worry that I might actually be a muggle. I’d settle for squib at this point.

Being born in 1991, I am technically on the cusp of belong to both Generations Y and Z. In reality, however, I belong to the Harry Potter Generation.

Sure, I’m fluent in text-speak, can’t remember a time without cell phones or laptops, jump to the internet for the most basic queries, can barely remember using a modem for the internet… hell, I can barely remember not having the internet. Regardless, I’m not truly a member of Generation Y (1982-1994) or Generation Z (1991-2009).

~            ~            ~            ~           ~            ~          ~

I was 7 years old when the first Harry Potter book was released in the US. I picked up my first copy when I was 9. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is the first book I can remember buying new from a bookstore – it was a present from my mom to read in the car while moving from Alabama to Ohio. This is a boy – a complete set of extended family, friends, enemies, mentors and teachers – that I’ve grown up with. While Harry Potter does get credit for re-engaging an apathetic generation in reading, that’s not why it’s famous to the kids who read it.

I started reading Harry Potter when I was 9 and he was 12. He was only ever a couple years older than me, in print. In the movies, we were even closer in age. I’ve literally grown up with him; I’ve snuck down the 3rd floor corridor on the right hand side, traipsed through the Forbidden Forest, punched Draco Malfoy in the face, cowered from the Death Eaters, cheered from the stands of the Quidditch World Cup, sobbed when Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, George’s ear, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and even Snape died – any emotional high or low that Harry’s been through, I felt it too.

I’ll forever resent my generation for regressing in terms of vocabulary, but I’ll champion the word “muggle” being added to the international lexicon. I won’t forget standing in a parking lot at 2 am with my friends, pretending that Roman Candles were actually wands, and that the sparks shooting out were actually related to the spells we shouted. I’ll still try to “accio” a book from across the room, “muffliato” when I’m trying to tell a secret, “sectumsempra” my brother when he gets on my nerves or “levicorpus” my roommate on April Fool’s Day.

The thing about Harry that bothers me the most, though, is that his age is a lie. Not in the sense that he’s timeless – though he is – but in the fact that this past July 31, Harry actually turned 30! In reality, he’s 11 years my senior. It feels like, just a little bit, Harry betrayed me. It’s like that episode of Friends: The One with the Ick Factor in which Monica, at 26, starts dating a guy she thinks is 22. She, lies, telling him that she’s also 22, before finding out that he’s actually only 18 – resulting in an eight year age gap.

I’m just saying, Harry, you took advantage of me a little bit. You cheapened our relationship. Regardless, you could pull a Malfoy – stomp on my face, cover me in an invisibility cloak, and leave me on a train for God knows how long – and I’d still find it in myself to forgive you. Because, Harry, you’ll always be my Chosen One.

A Ghost is Born

Today was one of those days that rendered me completely unproductive. At least I have the excuse of being sick. So, between cooking dinner, making cookies, lounging around, watching re-runs and reading, my mom and I had a heart-to-heart about life choices. You see, the other day I started  my study abroad application and it’s kind of freaking me out. As sure as I am that I want to study abroad and that I want to go to Sussex, the broader task of planning out my future is kind of overwhelming. Case in point: I just spent the last couple of hours researching the possible law and graduate schools I might want to attend. I sussed out what classes I want to take during the rest of my undergraduate work ages ago. The problem is, for all the time I spend meticulously planning my future, I can’t seem to put the effort in to making sure these future possibilities will happen. And I can’t help but feel that that’s maybe because I keep re-evaluating what I want to do with my life.

It all comes back to the most poignant lyric I’ve ever heard:

His goal in life is to be an echo.

That’s always resonated strongly with me. It’s my goal, too. Now when I question what I want to do, I fall back on that one simple line. My cousin asked today for the deeper meaning of it, and I couldn’t quite phrase it properly for her.  It has to do with my desire to be remembered, to have made a difference during this life. It’s not that I want fame, because I don’t. Not at all. But I do want to have some lasting effect on society or someone once I’m not around any longer.

I want to be a photojournalist, regular journalist, translator, novelist, press secretary, proprietor of Spines & Crusts, lawyer, speechwriter? I can’t even keep track half the time. Arabic is proving much more difficult than I ever initially imagined. The last time I took a language it came naturally. I expected the same to be true. New language, new set of rules, huh? I think part of the challenge is the fact that this is the first time I’ve ever really needed to put effort into learning and that kind of scares the crap out of me. Because now I’m not just learning, I’m learning how to learn.

It seems like with the end of this school year Arabic and I might make our fond farewells. There will be plenty of time to evaluate that decision in the year off I will inevitably take from the language (partly because of the semester during which I’ll be abroad and partly because GW doesn’t offer the next level of Arabic I’ll need the following spring). That’ll be good for me, I figure. Let me sort some stuff out. I know I’m sticking with politics for the long haul, and media/communication as well. I think my focus will turn from the language aspect of Arabic towards national security and defense. But, hey, I’ve got plenty of time.

Listen well, and you’ll hear my aspirations:

I Dreamed a Dream

Aaaah! I did so much today! Not really, but it seems like it!!!

So, I went to Congressman’s office today, like normal, and it was fairly straightforward. Sorted some mail, forwarded some faxes, saw some Air Force officers (in their DRESS BLUES!!! Do you know how much I love Air Force dress blues, ’cause it’s a lot. And, yes, that appreciation can be blamed on Stargate SG-1.) Hmdmdm. Oh, I went to a hearing that Congressman was chairing about mental health and suicide rates in veterans and there were a bunch of neuro-scientists there. Oh, yeah, and Patrick KENNEDY!!! And Walter Jones from North Carolina. But still, I was in the same room as a Kennedy (Unfortunately dubbed the “ugly duckling Kennedy by friend.)!!!

Most importantly, however, is the fact that I drafted a statement today. No matter that it was about arthritis. No matter that a lot of the writing was rewording a previously written response to constituents on the subject. No matter that I only had to weave in information about the bill itself. I WROTE A STATEMENT FOR THE CONGRESSMAN TO READ ON THE FLOOR OF THE SENATE!!!! This is officially my first foray into political speechwriting. I really wanted to share the news.

On a sadder note, housing confiscated the extension cord that runs from my wall outlet over the door to my power strip. I now have no access to my tv, vcr, or printer. The cable for the tv that was strung between bedrooms, however, seemed to have been perfectly acceptable. So it goes. I’ll get a surge protected extension cord tomorrow. After my Arabic test that involves drawing pictures of crocodiles. Ain’t college grand?

Don’t Stop Me Now

“You must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands.” - Lydia Bennet, Pride & Prejudice

If all goes according to plan, this time next year I’ll be moved into my new dorm at the University of Sussex. See, this past weekend was move-in for students at the University of Sussex, which marks the time for me to get ridiculously excited.

For me, though, move-in will occur in early September. From there I’ll take one 3-week course before moving on the the fall semester starting in October. I’m already spending way too much time poring over the Sussex website trying to decide which classes to take. While I often chastise myself for not choosing to go to Egypt to practice my Arabic, for me going to England feels right.

I’m a self professed anglophile, but that’s not the only thing that draws me to Brighton. The school looks fantastic; the location splendid; and the atmosphere perfect. One of the great things is that I’ll be able to get out of the city. As much as I love DC, I kind of miss grass, trees, wind, color, silence… The other day I had the urge to run around in a field and then climb a tree. You really can’t do that here without crossing state lines. Oh, hey – that’s actually in my weekend plans for once.

One of the other many draws of Sussex is that it’s in the UK. I’ve travelled so little in my life that being only an hour from London means I’ll be able to hop over to mainland Europe fairly easily. I’ve already started my list of places to see, most of which are cliched. But that won’t stop me from going anyway.

Aaaaaaaaaaah, the accents. Swoon.

Happy Anne-iversary

You may not believe it (I sure as heck don’t), but today marks the one year anniversary of my blog’s creation. Where has the time gone? In the past year, I’ve had a lot of new experiences, including:

• living away from home for the first time
• completing my first year of college
• going to a party with alcohol
• trying hookah
• tweeted
• gone camping
• traveled by myself (by air and train)
• interned
• attempted to learn Arabic
• mastered the Metro
• committed myself to studying abroad
• gone to New York City
• survived snowpocalypse
• auditioned for two tv shows (Skins & Jeopardy)
• entered my last year of teenager-dom
• gained confidence
• made friends
• solidified my plans for world domination – er, uh, I mean what I want to do with my life.

“Yeah, he’s cute in that trapper-keeper, pocket-protector, inhaler way.”

Freshman year of college is finally behind me and I have absolutely no idea how I feel about it. Well, I loved the year. I fell in love with DC completely and it’s my city. I can’t wait to go back, to live there in the future, whatever. The city is a place I feel completely at home. But, so is my home in Ohio. I’m really grateful that I have these two amazing homes and two equally amazing families.  At the same time I almost feel guilty, though, that I don’t feel more separation anxiety. Really, the transition from home to college to home again has been almost nonexistent. I just keep on truckin’. The only real challenge: falling asleep in my bedroom at home. It’s eerily dark and quiet here. No drunk college students speaking unidentifiable languages or rapping outside of my window, no streetlights casting orange shadows across my room, no ambulances or trucks backing up outside of my window at ungodly hours of the morning. Just calm, quiet, nights in my big, comfy bed. And lots and lots of green outside of my windows. I mean, I never realized how green my town was before this. It’s absurd how green it is here. Oh, well, it’s nice, at least.

Oh, and some of the great things I have been enjoying at home. Well, one would be my new favorite song.

Another would be these ridiculous(ly awesome!) Victorian Collages:

And, last but not least, this delightful site that I already tossed over to my good friend Hannah to check out. It’s well worth it. I mean, what’s better than hot guys reading books? No, seriously. There is nothing better. Check it out:

“We’re too alike.” “That must kill you.”

It’s finals time, so forgive the scant amount of postings.  I’ve got two beastly posts coming up, and they’re well worth the wait. But for now, as I focus on my Jane Austen research paper, two mini-essays for American Studies, and three final exams (all in the next week), all you get is some music. Maybe I’ll break out one of those posts if you’re good in the meantime. What else am I going to do this weekend, study for Arabic?

Variations on the song that will get me through finals studying:

Handshakefullness

I’m sorry that I haven’t posted in a while, but I promise, nothing of much consequence happened. (Aside from the minor pillow fight Anne and I had while waiting for an episode of the Office to buffer.)  And yes, I probably should be doing my Arabic homework, but you’ll soon see why this takes precedence.

The truth of the matter is that for a little while now I’ve felt slightly inconsequential next to most people that I know.  Everyone seems to have met famous politicians, actors, athletes or other celebrities. But myself?  No, of course not.  I mean, my dad met Muhammad Ali on the street and got an autograph, just after he changed his name from Cassius Clay.  My roommate Amanda was in what she described as “the most powerful handshake triangle ever” with Barack and Michelle Obama.  Myself?  Nada. I hadn’t even seen a celebrity up close while walking down the street until I moved to DC.  And let’s be frank, not too many people would count my seeing either Bo or Jon Favreau as much of a celebrity sighting. But all that changed today.

“What happened today, Molly?”, you may ask.  Well, let me tell you, a whole lot.  Terrifying dream aside, I not only got my ticket to hear Helen Thomas* speak, but I also went to an MTV / GWU sponsored Veterans Day event right across the street from me.  ”Who were the keynote speakers?”, you may ask.  None other than Alma Powell (Colin Powell’s wife), Dr. Jill Biden, and Michelle Obama! Yes, it was an exciting experience made even better by the fact that we were in the sixth row (the first four were reserved).  As Obama and Biden left, Amanda, Anne, and I scurried up to the front of the auditorium to watch them exit.  We were quite close to them.

But to really top things off, I GOT TO SHAKE HANDS WITH MICHELLE OBAMA!!!!!! Oh, yeah, and Jill Biden, too. But, really, Michelle Obama! She held my hand for a solid 3-5 seconds.  That is quality hand graspage.  When Amanda and I got home from eating 35 minutes later, Anne was still quivering with excitement – Michelle put a hand on her shoulder while shaking Anne’s hand.  This was one excellent day.

*Helen Thomas is known as the Dean of the White House Press Corps, and has worked in the White House for 57 years.  She has covered every presidential administration since John F. Kennedy.