If you're one of the lovely people who helped out by being interviewed, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. Thank you so very much.
Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Twenty-Somethings
My thesis in review:
If you're one of the lovely people who helped out by being interviewed, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. Thank you so very much.
If you're one of the lovely people who helped out by being interviewed, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. Thank you so very much.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Golden
This is my best friend, Elena, and our moms enjoying drinks at the bar.
This is me having the best twenty-first birthday I could have asked for.
These are the folks that made it happen!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Missing You Already
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| Photo c/o Kim Naples |
'Cause I'll be laughing at all your silly little jokes
And we'll be laughing about how we used to smoke
All those stupid little cigarettes, and drink stupid wine
'Cause it's what we needed to have a good time
And there'll be love, love, love
Wherever you go.
- Noah and the Whale (again)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Fun, Fun, Fun
I am going to miss these folks terribly in t-minus 24 hours.
Over the past six weeks, they have blessed my life with laughter, understanding, and goofiness that is hard to come by. London itself has been a great experience, but they made it so memorable, and fun! Here's hoping that we put aside at least a few nights to spend together once we return to the Bronx.
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| Photo c/o Naima Coster |
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A Very Belated Christmas
As I was uploading the shower shots, I found these old pics on my camera. They reminded me that I got to enjoy NYC's Christmas sights twice this year, first with my youth group and then with my housemates. Nothin' like enormous doughnuts, Southern accents and nutty old men to stir up the Christmas spirit!
Michael, Shelley, Clare and Will, please please please come back to visit us soon. Y'all really need another shot at seein' some o' them hobos.
Michael, Shelley, Clare and Will, please please please come back to visit us soon. Y'all really need another shot at seein' some o' them hobos.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Late-Night Chats
When I think back on this past year, one of the first things that comes to mind are my many late-night chats with Joe. Sometimes we talk about noble things: God, justice, the meaning of life. Other times, we just talk about shit.
Blurry, poorly lit and red-tinted as they are, I'm pretty happy that I got photos of one of our sessions. (How I'll miss these chats next year when he's no longer around to confide in and laugh with at all hours of the night!) Put simply, our talks have, in many ways, encapsulated the essence of college. Formal dorm programs and on-campus events are great for socializing and mingling, but 3 a.m. conversations with close friends are where the real magic of college life lies.
Blurry, poorly lit and red-tinted as they are, I'm pretty happy that I got photos of one of our sessions. (How I'll miss these chats next year when he's no longer around to confide in and laugh with at all hours of the night!) Put simply, our talks have, in many ways, encapsulated the essence of college. Formal dorm programs and on-campus events are great for socializing and mingling, but 3 a.m. conversations with close friends are where the real magic of college life lies.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Gonna Get Married!
Joe (my housemate) and I escaped the rainy North this weekend to attend the wedding of our ex-housemate in...Mississippi! Unfortunately, I didn't get to take as many pictures as I would have liked but, man, was MS gorgeous! Ninety degrees? Sunny weather? This is my kind of town!
The best part, of course, was getting to see our precious Clare and meeting all of her wonderful family. Our time with all of them was incredible, and we wish we were back chilling out with them on their deck right now!
The best part, of course, was getting to see our precious Clare and meeting all of her wonderful family. Our time with all of them was incredible, and we wish we were back chilling out with them on their deck right now!
Friday, January 28, 2011
“The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church”
"Daniel Kitson’s sentences are like fast-growing mutant super-vines, sending out sticky tendrils that dig into your attention and snake themselves all over it" writes Ben Brantley in the New York Times. It's not a bad description, but I would say that Kitson's sentences are more like those of an excited Brit with a speech impediment, spitting into the air every so often and gesticulating maniacally as he proclaims his discovery of the life of Gregory Church.
Actually, we (that is, the audience) are entirely unclear as to whether or not Kitson has anything to do with Gregory Church at all. He begins his one-man show by disclosing that "only the beginning is true," but then never distinguishes the beginning from the rest of the production. As he spews on, telling a story that might be entirely false, it's impossible not to be engaged. Because Kitson is hysterically funny, because he's incredibly creative (we must take for granted that at least some portion of the show is fiction) and because he's a wonderfully talented story-teller, by the time he announces at the end of the play that he was once a stand-up comic, the audience has long known that he is a comedian at heart. It's a must-see if you love fiction, nonfiction, or enjoy laughing even at the unknown.
Actually, we (that is, the audience) are entirely unclear as to whether or not Kitson has anything to do with Gregory Church at all. He begins his one-man show by disclosing that "only the beginning is true," but then never distinguishes the beginning from the rest of the production. As he spews on, telling a story that might be entirely false, it's impossible not to be engaged. Because Kitson is hysterically funny, because he's incredibly creative (we must take for granted that at least some portion of the show is fiction) and because he's a wonderfully talented story-teller, by the time he announces at the end of the play that he was once a stand-up comic, the audience has long known that he is a comedian at heart. It's a must-see if you love fiction, nonfiction, or enjoy laughing even at the unknown.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Deliciously Ridiculous
I will start at the beginning. I live in a Fordham-owned, off-campus Integrated Service Learning Community. We call it the Anne Devenney house. There are four of us (all undergrads) plus an AMAZING residential director named Lindy. I came into this community not knowing anyone, as the youngest member, never having done service in the Bronx, and the result couldn't have been better. We ended up being the perfect mix of people who have kicked this community off with a bang.
That being said- today was anything but 'banging.' After a big breakfast, two of us stayed in PJs and proceeded to mope around the house. Kendall actually bothered to change and then moped. Maria gave a spiel about how, at some point, she needs to start her life and get dressed like a normal person. By seven we were all back on the couch, eating and watching Sandra Bullock be clumsy and fight crime. Snow days can rob even the best-intentioned of any and all motivation.
By midnight, Moira was eating tortilla chips out of her robe pocket (Maria didn't hesitate to point out that she looked uncannily like Fran Drescher's mother on The Nanny) and Maria was using nonsensical phrases like flabby-mouthed (she meant loose lips) and deliciously ridiculous (I didn't hesitate to point out that her language was quasi-erotic.) By 1 A.M., we were huddled in our small kitchen in laughing fits, trying to describe each other in three words (a strange task that countless applications require, including that of JVC) and pointing out the ways in which we are "effervescent," "confusing," and just plain nuts. At one point, I was bent over our sink with iced tea spewing out of my mouth and nose. Moira ended the evening with a reflective poem, entitled "Pasta in My Closet and Chips in My Pocket."
I have titled this blog "How to Love College," and I chose this title purposefully. In addition to wittily alluding to the song "I Love College," the title implies that this space is not just for me to ramble, reflect, write meaninglessly. Rather, it is a place for me to describe my entire college experience, both on and off campus. The Anne Devenney house has not just impacted but molded my Fordham education; its people, its mission of service and its integration with the Bronx have made college fulfilling and have exemplified the purpose of Fordham in a way that dorm-life could not. In a bold way, it has held me through my very first steps of learning to love college: embracing new people, embracing everything that is intentional community, embracing the Bronx. Even more important, though, it has taught me to revel in the small moments -college is only four years, so these are frequent, and important!- like when I find myself doubled over the kitchen sink laughing hysterically. And, as a result, I have grown to appreciate the phrase that encapsulates so much of what college is: deliciously ridiculous.
That being said- today was anything but 'banging.' After a big breakfast, two of us stayed in PJs and proceeded to mope around the house. Kendall actually bothered to change and then moped. Maria gave a spiel about how, at some point, she needs to start her life and get dressed like a normal person. By seven we were all back on the couch, eating and watching Sandra Bullock be clumsy and fight crime. Snow days can rob even the best-intentioned of any and all motivation.
By midnight, Moira was eating tortilla chips out of her robe pocket (Maria didn't hesitate to point out that she looked uncannily like Fran Drescher's mother on The Nanny) and Maria was using nonsensical phrases like flabby-mouthed (she meant loose lips) and deliciously ridiculous (I didn't hesitate to point out that her language was quasi-erotic.) By 1 A.M., we were huddled in our small kitchen in laughing fits, trying to describe each other in three words (a strange task that countless applications require, including that of JVC) and pointing out the ways in which we are "effervescent," "confusing," and just plain nuts. At one point, I was bent over our sink with iced tea spewing out of my mouth and nose. Moira ended the evening with a reflective poem, entitled "Pasta in My Closet and Chips in My Pocket."
I have titled this blog "How to Love College," and I chose this title purposefully. In addition to wittily alluding to the song "I Love College," the title implies that this space is not just for me to ramble, reflect, write meaninglessly. Rather, it is a place for me to describe my entire college experience, both on and off campus. The Anne Devenney house has not just impacted but molded my Fordham education; its people, its mission of service and its integration with the Bronx have made college fulfilling and have exemplified the purpose of Fordham in a way that dorm-life could not. In a bold way, it has held me through my very first steps of learning to love college: embracing new people, embracing everything that is intentional community, embracing the Bronx. Even more important, though, it has taught me to revel in the small moments -college is only four years, so these are frequent, and important!- like when I find myself doubled over the kitchen sink laughing hysterically. And, as a result, I have grown to appreciate the phrase that encapsulates so much of what college is: deliciously ridiculous.
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