You know how I said I wouldn't be writing any more about Homecoming?

Well that was a LIE because I seem to be experiencing some serious psychological repercussions from that weekend, as evidenced by the dreams I had last night.

When I join the first dream it's already in session.  It's like flipping the channel and catching a movie right in the middle.  I'm not exactly sure what's going on yet. 

There I am, sitting in front of a mirror, putting on makeup.  I have stacks and stacks of new makeup sitting on the vanity in front of me and I keep opening things up.  I want to try everything out because it's new...but there isn't enough time to stop and wash off whatever I've just put on.  I'm in a hurry but I don't know why.  So I keep adding stuff on top of other stuff and I'm looking and looking and looking for a white eyeshadow to highlight my brow bone.  I just had it but now I've lost it and my left brow is done, but my right one isn't.  So I keep opening more and more things...

Apparently I'm getting ready for a wedding.  Crystal and Kara and Kathryn are all in the room with me and they're rushing around in bridesmaids' dresses.  But I know it can't be *my* wedding because I can't see myself having such a traditional wedding as to have regular old bridesmaids in regular old dresses.

But somehow I figure out that it *is* my wedding.  And I have no memory of anything.  I have no idea who I'm marrying.  I confess this to Kara and she seems wholly unconcerned that I'm so clueless.  I figure I must have amnesia and decide to wait to see if I should say anything about it until after I see the groom.  I think maybe seeing him will bring my memory back.

And then I'm wondering where my dress is, because I'm not going to really, truly believe that this is my wedding until I see the dress.  I figure I must have gone out and come up with something awesome for my own wedding.  Right now I'm sitting in front of the mirror in my underwear and that seems a little inappropriate with my friends in the room so I walk over to the door, pull a robe off the back of it, and put it on.

I'm still getting into the robe when the door opens and two guys walk in.  As quietly as I can, I ask Kara which one of them I'm supposed to marry.  She tells me, "The one with the ruler."  Except neither one of them is carrying a ruler!  So I deduce she must mean the one with the pen in his hand and I'm terribly disappointed.  He's short and extremely stocky and has dark hair and a sullen expression.  His friend, who has light brown hair and blue eyes, is much, much hotter and taller and seems much friendlier as he walks into the room.

Kara then asks my presumed groom about his parents' divorce and I think that's a very strange thing to be asking a groom on his wedding day.  But I try to pay attention because I'm sure that if I'm marrying this guy, he will have already told me about his parents' divorce and maybe something he says will trigger my memory.  Every time I catch his eye, he glares at me.

Finally they leave and I tell my bridesmaids that this can't be my wedding because I would never marry that guy. 

But it turns out I have it all wrong.  I'm marrying the OTHER guy!  The hotter, nicer, taller guy.  In that case, I decide maybe I will marry him.  And then I'll talk to him after the wedding and tell him I don't remember him or anything about him.  He seems the sort to be understanding.  Kara, Crystal, and Kathryn remain completely calm about my memory loss.  In fact, they hardly seem to notice I'm in the room.

I go back to putting on my makeup.  I look terrible.  I need to wash some of it off.  But I also need to see my dress.    

And where are my parents?  I ask Kara and she tells me my mom and dad are next door and they have my dress.  There's a door there that I hadn't seen before so I walk over and go through it and sure enough.  There they are. 

My mom holds up a stuffed toucan and tells me that's what I'm supposed to wear on my head.  My dad then gives me a full toucan outfit and tells me that's my dress.  But I can't believe it and tell them both that I'm not getting married unless I can find a vintage flower child dress...

Then the alarm went off. 

I didn't have to work today but I wanted to get up early anyway.  I laid there thinking about how weird that dream was and decided to turn off the snooze because there was no way I'd fall back asleep after that. 

Yeah, right.

An hour later, I woke up from the second dream.

In this one, my brother John and I are in a store looking through tiny replica board games.  I'd forgotten that when I was in college, I had a keychain for my dorm key that was a tiny Ouija board [this is actually true; I did have such a keychain].  I'm wondering if I can find another one and I no sooner think it then there it is.  But I don't have the money to buy it so John and I decide to walk back to my apartment.  We're in Bartlett and my apartment is 10 miles away so it's going to take forever to get there.  We decide to walk anyway. 

We only walk about 50 feet before I propose we go back and see if the manager will hold it for me in case someone else tries to buy it before we get back.

But as we're walking, John disappears and we're no longer in Bartlett, and suddenly Greta is there with her sister and another person I don't know.  Greta is dressed as a witch and tells me that it's Halloween.  I tell her about the Ouija board and she agrees to go back to the store with me and lend me the money to buy it.

When we get to the store, suddenly it's teeming with people.  Megan and Marissa and Crystal are there, but mostly it's people we don't know.  We spend what feels like HOURS in the store trying to find the Ouija board again.  They're all different now.  There are all different kinds and I can't find the one I saw earlier.  At last I find one self-contained in a tiny box.  I open it up and pull out seven different boards, each with a different Ouija activity on it.  There's also a little drawer that contains playing pieces in case you want to play Ouija as a board game (?).  All of the pieces are the same and look like tiny grim reapers...

And then I woke up.  Again.


Some of it I can explain.  Both Susie and Sam are planning weddings right now.  I wore my mom's vintage flower power dress for Halloween my senior year of college, the same year that Greta was a witch.  And I read a review of a book about the afterlife before going to bed two nights ago, which likely explains the Ouija board and grim reapers...

But I have no idea why I'd be so blasé about marrying a guy I couldn't remember.

I very, very rarely remember my dreams.  But earlier this week I was listening to Revolver and stopped at the song "I'm Only Sleeping."  I listened to it several times and got caught up in the lyric:  "When I'm in the middle of a dream/Stay in bed, float upstream." 

Yeah...

One year ago today Barack Obama was elected the 44th President of the United States. 

It would be another 2 and a half months before he took the oath of office, but for all intents and purposes, he became the leader of this country the minute the election results were in.  He ran on a message of hope, and while his detractors mocked him for it, even the greatest of cynics couldn't deny that hope is precisely what he delivered when he stepped onto the stage in Chicago, Illinois on the night of November 4, 2008 and gave his acceptance speech.  I doubt most of us could recall what exactly he said that night, but all of us remember how we felt.  For those who supported him, for first time in a years we were *hopeful.*

...

Obama, on the other hand, was a bit more grounded.

That speech that none of us were remembering while we were dancing in the streets and/or spurring the next baby boom in our living rooms was all about how this was only the beginning.  How the election was nothing compared to what was ahead.  How there would be no easy fixes, and how "[t]here will be setbacks and false starts."  How "[t]here are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President..."

"I will listen to you, especially when we disagree," the president-elect said. "And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way its been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand."

"This is your victory," he told us.

Ours. 

We, the people. 



So, people, how are we holding up a year later?



Well, I'll tell you how you're holding up.  You're complaining an awful damned lot.  You're screeching at every possible opportunity that you disagree with the president (even while forgetting he predicted you would back on election night).  You're throwing your arms up in disgust when he engages with the people who oppose him (also in that speech).  You're even demanding that someone else step in 2012.  Someone better.  Someone who can bring about "real" change. 

And that's just from the Democrats.

I, on the idealistic day of January 21, 2009, one day after Obama was sworn in, wrote the following here on MySpace:  "It is not that [Obama] will save us, but that he wants us to save ourselves.  That in simply giving people reason to look forward, he has already begun the process of moving us in that direction."

Alright, so I was wrong.  Just not about Obama.  About us. 

All ANYONE seems to be doing these days is looking for someone to save them.  On any given day, any number of liberals are whining to anyone who will listen that nine months into his first term, President Obama has failed to check off every single item on his or her personal laundry list of things he or she wants accomplished.  And so he's a FAILURE.  He's a TERRIBLE president.  He has done NOTHING.

Hey, the man's not perfect.  I'm not suggesting that I've never disagreed with a decision he's made or never frowned over a concession.  I haven't understood all of his choices and there are things I thought he would have addressed by now that he hasn't.

But I also know that we don't live in a dictatorship. 

Anna Quindlen wrote a cover story for Newsweek last week about the mounting frustration among liberals regarding Obama's track record so far.  She, more succinctly and more eloquently than I ever could, made the exact point that I've been trying to make since Obama took office:  it's not all up to him.

The United States of America was founded by revolutionaries, but those same people set up a system of government that inherently prevents rapid, large-scale (i.e. revolutionary) change.  Checks and balances, the three branches of government...we love that the government sends us a check every month after we retire, but when the Social Security Act of 1935 was passed, it was so watered down that even the government's own website admits it was, "a very moderate alternative to the radical calls to action that were so common in the America of the 1930s."  It took years of amendments to get social security to where it is today.

Sound familiar?  Sounds like healthcare to me.  Also sounds like civil rights and women's rights and child labor laws and any host of other major issues that we've faced as a nation.  It took over a century for a federal law to be enacted regarding "minimum ages of employment and hours of work for children."  A hundred years of lobbying and bickering.  We act as if the current climate of political polarization is something new to the era of the 24-hour news cycle.  It's not new.  It's the opposite of new.  It's what this country was founded on.  Ridiculously slow change and stubborn opposition?  It's as old as we are.  IT'S AMERICA.

You know what else America is?  It's a democracy.  Abraham Lincoln called us a "government of the people, by the people, and for the people."  He called us that during one of the worst eras in our nation's history.  He was great man, a great president...and he's proof that history remembers first steps, and that it often forgets that later generations are left to improve on the original idea.  We're still working on racial equality in this country.  Lincoln only got the ball rolling...but laying the groundwork is the difficult part.

With that bit of historical perspective in mind, I'm not here to make excuses or to suggest that we should all be patient or just accept that everything will turn out alright if we wait... 

Far from it.  We have every right to demand action. 

But there's a big difference between being constructive and being a whiner.

If you don't like the way things are going, then do something to change it.  Stop waiting for someone else to save the world for you.  Call Congress, sign petitions, write letters to the editor of your local paper, turn off the cable networks, listen to the lawmakers instead of the pundits and stop complaining.  Start doing.

One year ago, President Obama called his victory our victory for a reason.  He can't do it alone.  He can't please everyone.  He takes a lot longer to make decisions than we're used to in an age of instant gratification.  He's human.  He's also our president.  Ours. 

It's become popular to mention a quote from Franklin Roosevelt, who allegedly told members of his own party, "I agree with you, I want to do it, now make me do it."  As far as political fables go, the message could not be more pertinent.

Because that's exactly where we are one year later.  Everyone's got ideas.  The world is full of idea people.  But ideas don't change things.  Actions do.  And change doesn't come from a single person or a single election.  Not even the President of the United States - the most powerful person on Earth - can reshape the world in nine months.

To refer back to Anna Quindlen:  "[I]f the American people want the president to be more like the Barack Obama they elected, maybe they should start acting more like the voters who elected him..."

I'll say amen to that.  And I'll say it as someone who has never stopped thinking that the United States made the right choice one year ago today.


UPDATE:  Yes and yes.  Again, I let the professionals say it better than I:



..

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Andrew Sullivan

www.colbertnation.com

..

Colbert Report Full Episodes

Political Humor

U.S. Speedskating

..

Why?  WHY was I compelled to log into MySpace again this evening?!  Why, when there was nothing but THIS WAITING FOR ME ON THE LOG IN PAGE:


Sweet merciful Jesus God in heaven.

He's got an accent.

Fuck. 

It's going to be really hard for me to make fun of this now.  Go.  Watch.  Drool. 

PRINCE OF PERSIA: THE SANDS OF TIME

Who even is this person and where was he two years ago? 

But I must say it was very nice of Disney to show its respect for us by releasing this today, it being our anniversary and all.

Happy exactly-two-years-since-Jake-Watch-died, agents!  It's nice to know the world of Jake still revolves around us...

Thank you, Kathryn!!
At the alumni reception Friday night.  Clockwise from left:  Megan (and Baby Hulgan!), me, Kathryn, Stacy, Marissa, Jessie, Crystal, Kara

Outside of Celtic Crossing.  The class of '99 had a gathering here, too, but I didn't see a sign for them.  LOSERS.

The new Rhodes Library, completed the year after we graduated.  The portrait off to the left is of our current college president.  We are regal, we Rhodes people!

At the football game.  Don't mind the empty seats...this is a stellar turnout!  If it wasn't Homecoming, *all* of the seats would be empty.  HAHA just kidding!  (But not really.)

The famous seal in the hallway of Palmer.  Tradition states that one must not tread on the seal until one graduates.  (I happily trounced across it on my way to get my diploma.)  FUN FACT:  Scenes from the horrid 1980s frat flick Making the Grade were filmed in this hall.

Kathryn and I chill in Palmer.  Some of the buildings at our school are castle-like in nature!

This building is not one of them.  FJ, baby.  So much bio happens here.  (The table off to the left is where the DJ was spinning later that night during our reunion.)  The nebulous black mass directly behind me through the window is a life-sized animatronic triceratops.  It's pretty fantastic. 

The Rat, take one.  This used to be the smoking room.  I have no idea if it still is.

The Rat, take two.  The main dining room.  The tables aren't (weren't) usually arranged like this.  Becky does not approve. 

At Huey's!

And...the other side of the table at Huey's!  With Amber (left)!

And sorry, you don't get to see the pictures of me on the lynx.

AND THAT IS ALL.  Just imagine these pictures inserted neatly within the overly long narrative that precedes this entry and that was my weekend!

And now I will stop posting blogs about Homecoming.  Kbaithanx.

SATURDAY, cont.

Guy:  What class are you?

Becky:  2004!

Guy:  What?!  I thought you were a current student!

Becky:  Naw, man.  This is our five-year reunion!

Guy:  So what are you doing now?

And this is the portion of the evening in which I horrified everyone within listening distance.  Those amongst the Class of ’04 who were there to hear me would bring it up repeatedly for the duration of the weekend (and beyond!) and tell me how awful I was to say it.  The current students physically recoiled in horror as soon as the words left my mouth. 

And what was it that I said that was so bad?

I answered the question honestly.

Becky:  Jack shit!  I am doing JACK SHIT!!

HAHA.  No one even knew what to do about me saying that.  The guy who asked me the questions looked like I’d just told him there was no Santa Claus.

And then I just dug the knife in a little deeper.

Becky:  Your Rhodes education means nothing! 

By this point, Kathryn and Megan were walking as quickly as possible in the opposite direction and loudly encouraging me to follow them. 

Megan:  Becky, get away from the students!

Kara (to the students):  Don’t listen to her.  You just need to go to grad school!

Becky:  Don’t go to grad school!  You’ll just go into debt!

Oh, but saying that made me feel guilty because all of my friends are either currently in or have recently graduated from grad school.  So I amended:

Becky:  No, it really isn’t that bad!  I’m sorry!  You’ll get to come back here after you graduate!  Getting drunk in the amphitheater and riding the lynx.  That’s what’s waiting for you in five years!!!

(Sometimes the truth hurts.)

So there went Becky again, making everyone super-uncomfortable!!  You might think I would blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a gross simplification of my abilities to stir up trouble with incendiary blanket statements about controversial issues (it’s my specialty).  I was stone cold sober at brunch when I shouted, “Mark Zuckerburg is the Bill Gates of social networking!” and maybe that wasn’t too terrible, but it was a different story when I was out to dinner with a bunch of conservative friends before the 2004 election and yelled, “It makes me PHYSICALLY ILL to think about what George W. Bush has done to this country!”  Or hey, what about that time I drove several long-time Jake Watch readers away from the blog - permanently - because I slammed Jake for dropping out of college?  The counter-argument there was that it didn’t matter that he quit because he was making more money than an ordinary college graduate anyway.

 “The value of an education cannot be measured in occupational success!” is what I wrote at the time.  And I still hold that true!  ABSOLUTELY I believe in the value of a college education…

…I just can’t believe how unbelievably academically snobby we all were while we were students. 

I love Rhodes College.  But I hate that I didn’t understand while I was a student that the hard work I was putting in would not directly translate into any real world advantages over those with degrees from less “prestigious” institutions.  That’s what I was trying to say.  But I fear some of that nuance was left behind with the Bloody Marys.

Eh, those students will find out about the real world soon enough, although I have to wonder about the level of power my friends think I wield.  Good Lord, if I hear one more time about how terrible I was to “discourage” them…um, for real, if they’re going to stop working because of one (admittedly drunken) shout across the quad from a complete stranger then perhaps those students shouldn’t be at Rhodes anyway!

Anyway. 

On to Silkys!

Megan dropped us off near Beale Street.  It was late enough that we had to stand in line to be carded and metal detected.  Did you know that in Tennessee it’s legal to bring guns into bars?  This is a brand new law which Tennessee lawmakers just passed because they thought was such a great idea.  (Tennessee is INSANE.)  There’s a provision, though, by which individual establishments can opt out and the entire street of Beale collectively decided what common sense has dictated since the invention of gunpowder:  alcohol and firearms are a bad mix.  So no guns on Beale. 

After it was determined that none of us were packing, we headed into Silky O’Sullivan’s, the world famous bar where live goats will drink your beer if you want them to!  (Much like guns in bars this totally legal in the state of Tennessee.)  When Crystal and I were in Ireland, we met a man who knew Silky and even knew where the world famous goats came from (somewhere in Ireland; honestly I don’t remember much of anything about what he told us now that four years have passed). 

We sat away from the goats and people-watched and talked to some classmates who wandered by.  We were just getting ready to leave when we were approached by some younger alumni, one of whom was wearing a bow-tie.

When Kara and I ate lunch at the Rat on Friday, we saw a couple of male students wearing bow-ties and commented on how Rhodes-y that was.  This is the type of school I went to.  Where guys in their early twenties voluntarily wear bow-ties.  Because they think it looks good.  And you thought I was just kidding about that academic snobbery thing!  Now perhaps you see why I have no regrets about shouting some real-world-truth to the students by the lynx.  These are basically people who want to grow up to be George Will or Tucker Carlson (who are both appalling individuals and should never be emulated).

Bow-Tie Boy beelined to me, apparently mistaking my instinctual revulsion towards his attire for casual sexual interest.  He was so drunk…MY GOD he was drunk!  He was at that level of drunk where he couldn’t quite make eye contact anymore because his pupils were so blown.  And yet he held onto the conversation better than I hold onto most conversations sober.  A friend of his sat down next to Crystal and Kathryn.  The friend was much less drunk and opened the conversation by insinuating he and his friend would like for two of us (any two?) to go to a hotel with them to cap off the evening.  So classy, those boys!

So I told them both that we were INCREDIBLY OLD.  Class of TWO-THOUSAND AND FOUR OLD. 

Bow-Tie Boy rolled his eyes.  “You’re ‘so old.’  Why are you saying you’re ‘so old’?”  And then he made some comment about us being “cougars” (what the !@?*#&$) and then I swear he said he was the Class of 2007, but later, when Kara and I compared notes (for by this time two other guys had joined our table and were occupying Kara’s attention), she said they were Class of ’08 or ’09.  The guy talking to Crystal and Kathryn said that he and his friends were “bobcats” because they were hitting on “older women.”

Bobcats!  HA!  That’s the best thing I heard all night.

Bow-Tied Boy turned back to me:  “I so would have gone for you when you were a senior and I was a freshman,” he said.  “God that would have been hot.” 

I think that’s debatable.

He then dragged me off to go dance and when we got to the dance floor, he just sort of stared at me as I moved and said, “You are SO AWKWARD.  I LOVE IT.”  That annoyed me so I stopped, pulled him close, and spoke into his ear, “I’m not drunk enough to be doing this.” 

And even through the haze of alcohol, he understood that I meant him and not the dancing.  He graciously led me away from the band and I found Kara and Kathryn waiting for me with my purse.  We swung back by our table to pick up Crystal.  The guy she was talking to looked genuinely surprised that Crystal was leaving him.  “You just used me for my conversation!” he said.  Rhodes boys.  They always stick to what they know.  (Which is Rhodes girls.)  You can tell they were younger than us because no one who was in school while we were there would have EVER thought that any of us would go home with them.  We were good girls (i.e. nerds).  We still are.

And that story right there probably tells you everything you need to know about why no one dated me in college.

Our final stop was Raiford’s, where we wound up after some of our fellow classmates told us that’s where the night was unofficially ending.  Raiford’s is pretty famous though I’d never been before.  The only thing I knew about the place was that anyone who dared enter would not regain full hearing for at least two days.  It wound up being a bit of a disco bar with lots of smoke and ABBA and Michael Jackson.  I got pulled onto the dance floor by some guy who told me:  “I love the way you move, girl!” 

Man, people were just all over the MAP judging my dancing skills that night. 

I left him after the one song, though, and went back to my group where we merged with another group of Rhodes girls, amongst which was a guy, whom all of us assumed someone else in the group knew…but no!  He was just a random stranger!  He looked very Rhodes-y, with glasses and a button-down shirt, and was a perfect gentlemen.  I’m not really sure what was up with him but we had lots of fun mouthing (over the deafening bass) that it was hilarious how none of us knew who he was.  He took a special liking to Kathryn but alas, romance was not in the air for any of us this weekend…

We left Raiford’s a little after 3:00 (I can’t even remember the last time I left a club at 3:00 am) and we hailed a cab to take us back to my place.  The driver did his best to entertain us by telling stories about the drunken people he’s driven around the city of Memphis, but we were all boring and exhausted.  As he dropped us off at he said, “I’m not going to have any stories to tell about you!”  I apologized. 

And I went to bed with my ears ringing.

SUNDAY: 

We were late getting up on Sunday.  We were supposed to be at Café Eclectic by 11:30 for Meg’s surprise baby shower.  But Meg left me a message around 10:45 and it became clear that we had forgotten the important detail of telling Meg when we were going to be meeting her (oops).  We pushed the time back to 11:45.

The baby shower was nice.  Low-key.  Megan and Jonathan got some great stuff.   

And wow.  They're really having a baby!  Everyone's life is so different now...

I thought I would be taking Kathryn to the airport, but Kathryn hadn’t gotten a chance to talk much with Marissa, so she went off with her…and Crystal went off to spend her last night in Memphis with Amber…and Kara got into her car and headed home…  Megan and Jonathan left and I drove back to my place to do laundry and clean up…

And that was it.

Five years.  FIVE YEARS!  When we all got together on Friday night, it was like no time had passed.  We stepped back onto campus and it felt like we’d all just been there the day before…

But as the weekend went on, I started to feel the years we’d been apart, and the little (and sometimes big) ways in which we’ve all grown.  I’ve lived lifetimes in the past five years.  Where we once all shared the major commonality that the school we lived and worked in was the biggest part of our lives, now we all have different priorities.  Kara, Kathryn, and Crystal have school.  Amber, Marissa, and Josie have relationships.  Megan has both (well, past tense with school).  I have neither.  Those times when we weren't reminiscing, it was impossible to overlook the ways in which we're all different now.

But in spite of that, goddamn we still have a lot of fun together!

Five years.  And look at us!  We’re only just now really starting our lives!  None of us have quite gotten where we’re going yet.  I can't even imagine where we'll be five years from now...

Thank you to everyone who came in for the weekend!!  I already can't wait to see what the 10-year reunion brings. :)

THE END.

SATURDAY

Meg likes to cook.  So she invited us to brunch.

As is her wont, she went above and beyond the call of duty and whipped us up a gourmet feast full of delicious dishes!

Over our meal we chatted about social networking and someone (Kathryn?  Kara?) cried, “MySpace is dead!”  Aw, poor MySpace.  But I know, right?  It’s basically just me and Jenna Fischer at this point.  (Though I guess if you had to be stuck on a sinking ship, there are worse people to go down with.)

After brunch we walked to Rhodes from Megan and Jonathan’s place.  It’s about a mile and I think we all assumed that we’d walk around campus for a short time, watch a bit of the football game, and then walk back.  If only we hadn’t had so many places we wanted to go!

Meg sang the national anthem at the start of the game with alumnae from our school's all-female a capella group, of which she was a founding member.  None of us were really into the football game itself, so Crystal, a former Rhodes cheerleader, suggested we just stay until Rhodes scored a touchdown so we could hear the cheerleaders sing the fight song.  Ours was not a very athletically-inclined school and under normal circumstances, we might have gone the whole game without seeing a touchdown.

But last Saturday, we waited all of 12 minutes.

Go Lynx cats!

That being about all of the football any of us could handle, we met up with Meg and walked over to the dorm we all lived in freshman year.  It was strange because I didn’t remember it all that well but everyone else did.  Then again, I hated my freshman year.  I went home every weekend, both because my roommate and I were a horrible match and also because I had the emotional maturity of a 12-year-old and wasn't ready to be that independent yet.

Then the old library…and Palmer…and we were walking down to Frazier-Jelke, the underground biology building where I spent most of my waking hours as a student, and up the steps comes my Mycology professor!  YES, the very man in whose class, as mentioned earlier, I drank my first beer.  I remember the experience quite well.  I was watching my pencil roll down the desk and sort of freaking out, having never been under the influence of alcohol before.  I slammed my hand down on the pencil a little too hard to stop it from rolling and he asked, “Becky, how’s your beer?”  I was mortified that I would give myself away as an amateur drinker (as well as amused because of all people to call on!), and responded, “It’s better than I thought it would be.”

I have liked beer ever since.

I didn’t think he’d remember me seven years later, but he stopped as we passed him and asked if I was an alum.  I told him I was and that I’d him for Mycology and we had a brief chat about what I was doing.  I apologized for going a bit off course biologically with my job choices but he seemed fine with that.  I can’t remember how he put it, but he said something along the lines of the biology department being in the business of teaching biology and not preparing people for specific careers.  That made me feel better than I’d felt all day!

When we went inside the building, we ran into my academic advisor and his wife, both bio professors and had a great talk with them (hi, Dr. Jaslow!).  My advisor used to read this blog and he was quite pleased when I started making my Office entries visible to MySpace users only.  He was afraid I was going to get fired.  It was a justified fear, I’m sure.  I felt a bit lame, though, as everyone else in my group talked about graduate school and I was all “unfinished book” and “still on MySpace.”  As you can see, the weekend was bringing out inferiority issues in me the likes of which I haven’t seen in years!  Yeesh.

Then the chemistry building and back to the Rat (since Kathryn and Crystal hadn't peeked inside yet) and then finally we walked back to Meg’s, got in my car, and drove to Huey’s.  If any of you ever come to Memphis, I’ll take you to Huey’s.  They have the best burgers ever.  Or so I’ve been told.  I’ve lived my whole life in Memphis and never eaten a Huey’s burger.  I always get the fiesta chicken wrap (also very good!).  Josie and her man and Amber and her man and Marissa and her man all met us for dinner.

Whew!  Are you tired yet?  We were.  I wish I’d worn my pedometer.  I’ll bet we clocked between 5 and 7 miles just walking around all day.  Not to mention we’d been out late the night before…

But there was no time to rest.  We had to go back to my place to get ready for the ACTUAL REUNION!  I know, I know…you’re sitting there thinking, ‘all this craziness and hysteria was just the buildup to the main event?!’  Yes!  Rhodes is hardcore with its celebrating like that.  Every year the seniors spend an extra week on campus by themselves in between finals and graduation and in that time, there is nothing but partying.  Lest you think I’m exaggerating, I had to buy an ENTIRELY NEW WARDROBE for my Senior Week experience.  That is how important this week of celebrating is.  It’s not even all bars and whatnot…we also went to a yacht club, and another time we hung out at the college president’s house and had cocktails, and one night they even hired out a few buses and trucked us down to Mississippi so we could hang out at a casino.

Flashing forward five years, we were at last all together again getting ready to go out and yet we were so tired that not even Miley could get us going.  Tragic. 

NONETHELESS, we sucked it up and had one (one!) shot each and then Meg came and picked us up in her car.

When we arrived at the reunion, which was in the amphitheater (the amphitheater being the entrance to Frazier-Jelke), I was still filled with thoughts of Senior Week and thought (and said aloud) of what was awaiting us below, “OH GOD, THIS IS SO LAME!”

Because it kind of was.  There was a DJ.  And about 20 people.  And a slideshow.  And that was it.  No one was even dancing.  And I didn't submit any pictures for the slideshow so there were no photos of me or anyone else in my group of friends. 

In fact, 90% of the pictures were of people who weren’t even at the reunion.

The whole thing made me feel very old.

Funnily enough, I was a little concerned going into the evening because I was wearing jeans and a sparkly top, along with a sweater and a jacket on top.  It was pretty cold and the reunion was outside…and we were going to Beale Street later that night, so I was trying to dress for all occasions.  Megan, Crystal, Kathryn, and Kara all wore dresses.  I felt underdressed.  Until I got there.  And then I saw that there was absolutely no dress code to speak of. 

We all got drinks and awkwardly stood around watching the slideshow and then…

*gasp*

All conversation ceased and an audible gasp rippled through the crowd.  For there on the screen was a photograph of three people riding the lynx statue above the amphitheater COMPLETELY NAKED.  As a group, we turned to look at Whitney [X], who had been in charge of compiling the slideshow.  “They sent it to me!” she protested.

So there’s this lynx statue, right?  It’s perfect for riding.  It’s supposedly a rite of passage to ride the lynx naked before you graduate.  I never rode the lynx naked.  And if I had, I probably wouldn’t have taken a picture of myself doing so.  And if I had taken a picture, I probably wouldn’t have submitted it to the reunion committee to be projected to all of my former classmates.

So kudos to those three for being braver than I.

As the party got going, things picked up.  More people showed up.  Everyone relaxed a little. 

After my third Bloody Mary, I stopped feeling old and started feeling like I was right back in college again.

Still more people showed up, though still not as many as we’d thought.  Everyone seemed to be talking about who wasn’t there.  Someone mentioned that Richard [X] was getting married that weekend, and that’s where half of our class was.  Richard was part of my lab group freshman year in zoology, along with Lindsay [X].  Lindsay who, according to Facebook, just married Steve [X].  (Where were Lindsay and Steve?)  Our zoology professor notoriously never gave A’s, ever.  It was just his policy that whatever our best was, it could always be improved upon.  The presentation that Lindsay, Richard, and I gave at the end of the semester he called, “the best student presentation I’ve ever seen.” 

He gave us a B+.

We stayed until the party broke up, by which point Kara had decided that it would be a good idea to start asking Megan really specific questions about what she had registered for for her baby and then even more specific questions about which things she had already gotten.  HAHA, Kara!  So much for the next day’s shower being a surprise.  But I don’t think anyone minded, least of all Megan.

As we were leaving the amphitheater, I decided that since I was in the area, I might as well ride the lynx (clothed!!).

So I did.  And then Kara climbed up and rode the lynx with me (much less kinky than it sounds!).

A passing group of students stopped to watch us.  When I was back on the ground, a guy approached me...

Click below to continue to Part 3.

And you probably thought I was slacking.

Me?  SLACKING?

Unlikely.

It just took me a few days to write this much.

Sorry we’re going into this picture-less.  I didn’t take many pictures this weekend because others in my group were taking TONS and I assumed I’d just get photos from them…but they have lives and are busy and haven’t been able to send me anything yet.  Seeing as how I’m relying on their good will, I don’t feel that I should pester them to hurry up purely for the sake of my blog, so I’m going to go ahead and publish this photo-free.  But when I do get some pictures, I’ll try to post them!

Also, this is in segments because it’s so long.  When you get to the bottom, just click the link for the next entry. 

Also, this is really uneven and stream-of-consciousness.  Long though it may be, it's not a work of literary greatness.  Just FYI. ;)

And here we go!


If I had to sum up the weekend in one word, it would be…

MILEY.

How long have we been talking about Homecoming?  Our 5-year reunion?  The first time in FIVE YEARS that all of us would be together in one place and it would be just like college all over again?  (Maybe…sort of…)

Kara was the first to arrive.  She pulled into my driveway right between “Community” and “Parks and Recreation” in NBC’s Thursday night comedy line-up and I immediately dragged her back out the door again so we could hit up the liquor store. 

And then we came home and we drank. 

We didn’t drink as a nostalgic throwback to our college years (because oddly enough we drank very little back then) but instead we drank to the weekend ahead…to the lives we now lead…to the youth and innocence lost in the past 5 years…

Hear hear!

[True story…I was 20 years old the first time I drank a beer.  I was sitting IN MYCOLOGY CLASS, sipping on some homebrew we made in lab.  Remember this.]

But because I’d rather not get into what was said or done while we were taking pineapple vodka shots in my living room (let’s just say that Kara’s grad school friends have REALLY bizarre taste in porn), we’re going to skip ahead to Friday now.  That’s when the party started anyway!

THE PARTY IN THE USA that is. 

For oh yes.  Miley Cyrus was the soundtrack to our weekend. 

Back when we were in college, it was all Hilary Duff.  Did we, at the age of 21, really drive all the way out to Target at 9:00 pm in the middle of the week to buy her Metamorphosis CD?  Yes.  Yes, we did.  We were also there opening weekend for A Cinderella Story…and sometimes I’d watch Lizzie Maguire when I should have been studying.  Oh, did we love that Hilary Duff!

But where is she now?  Does anyone even know?  (I’m guessing she’s wherever Miley Cyrus is going to be five years from now.)  Fickle consumers that we are, we’ve ditched the Duffster and stayed with the times, now enjoying the sugary-sweet, overproduced, canned pop masterpieces that Miley[’s team of handlers] is churning out.  7 Things, See You Again, The Climb, Party in the USA…these four songs were heard over and over and over…and over and over…and over again this weekend. 

Luckily for us, there’s no such thing as hearing Party in the USA too many times!  (Well, maybe there is for Kathryn.  Sorry, Kathryn.)

But back to our Friday morning…our first stop was Bartlett, where I dropped off my recycling and then picked up some towels and my mail from my parents’ house.  I was thrilled beyond measure that my “I Want a Public Option” bumper sticker had finally arrived.  I hurriedly stuck it on the back window of my car, but in my excitement I failed to center it correctly. 

I will never, ever, ever get over this.

Then Kara and I went to Target and Davis-Kidd to buy Megan things for the top secret baby shower we were throwing her on Sunday morning (by which point it would no longer be top secret, but we’ll get to that).

And with all of that out of the way, it was time to finally greet the honored guest of the weekend:  our alma mater, Rhodes College. 

Ah, Rhodes.  All elegant buildings and ancient oaks, manicured lawns and an African American security and kitchen staff…  It’s all so very Old South!!  It’s great, though.  It’s a highly nationally ranked, academically challenging college.  Most of the students live on campus and all live by the honor code:  no one cheats, no one steals.  Any student can walk into lunch, drop his backpack off by the door, and no one will touch his things, no matter how long he leaves them unattended.  Professors give take-home tests without fear of students cracking their books to double-check their answers…it’s a great place.

It’s also really fucking expensive.

But one thing you get for your money is good food.  There are two places to eat on campus:  The Lynx Lair, which is over in the gym, and The Catherine Burrow Refectory, which is universally (and affectionately) known as the Rat.  The Rat is the main dining hall and walking into it is like walking into Hogwarts.  The paneled walls are lined with long tables and stained glass windows.  Portraits of deans and professors long gone hang high above your head.  Some of my best memories from college come from the Rat.  Which is precisely why Kara and I decided to eat there for lunch on Friday. 

When we walked up to pay for our meal, the cashier asked where our tickets were.

Cashier:  They should have give you a ticket.

Becky:  Whoa, we get a FREE MEAL?!

Kara:  They just gave us these drink tickets for tonight.

Cashier:  OH!  You’re alumni?!

She thought we were prospective students.  HA!

Back in our day, lunch at the end of the week meant “Fried Chicken Fridays.”  And guess what?  It still does!  Kara and I didn’t have the fried chicken, though; we instead sampled the various hand-made pizzas and had salads from the salad bar.  

We sat down and saw former professors eating alongside of us, just as they would have half a decade ago.  We both had the strange half-formed feeling that at any moment, our classmates would start filing in, done with class and ready to eat.  

But no.  All we saw were other people’s classmates.  Younger people’s classmates.

We walked around campus some more after lunch, and found a copy of the newest Rhodes magazine.  We got really depressed reading the Class Notes section (I wrote a blog about that once!) and commented on who would likely not be making it that weekend based on what they're doing now...

Then we made a quick stop at the mall so I could buy an outfit for the following night.  Afterwards, Kara headed back to campus to talk to a former professor or two and I stayed in my apartment and finished getting everything in order for when the rest of the group arrived later that night.

THREE HOURS LATER...

Crystal and Kathryn flew in an hour apart.  Kathryn got there first and had enough time to change and get ready in the airport bathroom while we waited for Crystal…for there was no rest for us.  It was straight back to Rhodes from the airport!  (Crystal had spent the entire day on a plane in her going out outfit.  You’re a trooper, Crystal!)

Those of you who me know from Jake Watch may remember Crystal from the trips I took to Los Angeles to visit her and Greta (Greta, I am VERY sad to report, wasn't able to make it to our reunion).  The three of us quite famously ate Sprinkles cupcakes one time at Jake’s high school.

But what you may not have known is that Crystal and I spent the first half of 2005 in Ireland with Julia, a fellow 2004 graduate.  The time in Ireland was…interesting?  Actually, it’s probably best not to try to sum up that trip in one word.  It was lots and lots of fun!  It was also dominated by drama as Julia and I spent the bulk of our time together locked in a war over our male roommate, who ultimately chose her over me.  (Ouch.)

Neither Crystal nor I had talked to Julia since we all said goodbye to each other in back in ‘05, but Julia’s name was on the Homecoming registration list so we knew we’d be seeing her.  Sure enough, when we walked into the BCLC (the gym building, which has its own ballroom), the first people we saw were Liz [X] and Abbey [X], both of whom greeted us with the news that Julia was upstairs.

We all walked up to the ballroom, stopped to greet a few other familiar faces along the way, and then made our way inside for the official kickoff of Homecoming: the alumni reception. 

And there was Julia, standing the doorway.

She immediately walked off in the other direction.  (I don’t think she saw us.)

Our group made our way to the alcohol where we were greeted by some more former classmates.  We chatted a bit, got our drinks (my whiskey and Sprite was about 60% whiskey…I wound up only using one of my two drink tickets because I had to drive) and then Crystal and I went to say hi to Julia.

She introduced Crystal and me to her boyfriend with, “These are the girls who were in Ireland with me.”  I wonder how much she’s told him about that time.  I’m guessing she hasn't told him about That One Time, and if I’ve ever told you about That One Time, then you know what I’m talking about.  (If I haven’t told you, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.)

I wasn’t very nice to Julia in Ireland.  She wasn’t very nice to me, either.  We thought we were awesome back then…23, living abroad, brand new college degrees…but what we really were was young and stupid and mean.  I can still be mean.  I’m a much angrier person than I let on sometimes.  Julia found that out first hand.

A photographer came and took our picture right as the three of us were awkwardly and obligatorily exchanging stories of what we’re doing now.  I was secretly glad that we were interrupted before it was my turn to explain where I am in life.  Rhodes spits out grad students, law students, and medical students with wild abandon.  The vast majority of the people I saw this past weekend were working on Ph.D's or had already passed the bar or were otherwise deeply engaged in their long-term academic goals. 

I, on the other hand, am an administrative assistant.  Part-time.  I’m desperately trying to finish a book which I have sent off to four people, three of whom I haven’t been able to get feedback from.  I’m not dating anyone, I don’t live an exciting life, I couldn’t even get the attention of some mid-B-list actor, despite repeated attempts (GOD I AM PATHETIC). 

It’s hard to explain just how unbelievably intimidating it is to admit that to your graduating college class when you went to an academically strenuous school where most of your classmates are pressing ahead with the kind of futures designed to impress anyone who hears about them. 

So thank God I didn't have to say anything, right?  After the photographer took our picture, Crystal and I went to get food.  We sat down at a table with Kara and Kathryn…and then Megan and Jonathan and their friend Justin joined us…and then Jessie, who shared so many Biology labs with me…and Stacy, who went to high school with me and yet led such a different college life than I…and Abbey, who was on the cross-country team and shared so many Rat meals with us, icing her knees over dinner at a time when I knew nothing about what one’s joints feel like after a hard run…

After the reception, we headed over to Celtic Crossing, an (appropriately) Irish bar in Cooper-Young.  Kara and I texted Alex who was stuck in California with the military.  Alex started out with our class at Rhodes but got behind when he joined the marines after September 11 and then got shipped off to Iraq.  I have drunk more beer with Alex than with any other individual on the face of the planet.  Alex and I never dated, but he did date Julia our senior year.  (See how twisted the web can become at a small school??)

Maggie showed up a little later, and so did Kyle.  It was too loud, though, and eventually Kara, Crystal, Kathryn, Jessie, and I headed downtown to the Flying Saucer. 

There was a guy playing pool across from us and he hit on Jessie and then Kathryn and then Kathryn and then Jessie and then Kathryn and then Kathryn.  He had just gotten out of jail (!) and even showed Kathryn his prison ID to prove that he wasn’t making up his story.  He got really upset with our group after a while for not playing with him and he stormed out of the place and stole a glass as he went.  We waited a few minutes to leave because we were scared he might be waiting to kill us in the parking lot or something.

And then we said goodbye to Jessie, and Kathryn, Crystal, Kara and I went back to my place, but not before stopping at Taco Bell.  Then the four of us crammed into my TINY apartment and ate tacos (except for me; I ate a package of saltines because I’m weird), and then we slept the night away…

Click below to continue to Part 2.

For those of you who didn't read my response to Sam's comment on the last entry, Melissa was not able to fulfill her duties as an extra for Jake's Pittsburgh Viagra movie.  *sad face*  Nonetheless, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say our fingers are crossed that those two crazy kids run into each other again before filming is over.  To be completely honest, I was getting a bit worried about Jake.  I kept reading all of these encounter stories where he was portrayed as "nice" and "happy" and I thought, 'umm, who the hell are these people talking about because surely it's not Jake Gyllenhaal.'  And then I read this story and was all like, 'Awwww, there he is!'  I like him best when he's being a jackass.  It's what's familiar to me, you know?

Moving on.

Megan is now famous...and not just because I'm always writing about her on my blog.  No, no, she is legitimately overexposed thanks to this exciting CNN iReport in which she talks about her job and sounds extremely educated and purpose-driven (which she is!):


YAY Megan!!

As I watched this, I tried to think what I would say to a CNN cameraman should one saunter into my office one day.  I'd probably just stand there looking vapid and vacant.  Or maybe I wouldn't even be in the office because (in case you didn't hear it somewhere else) as of last Friday, my job is no longer full-time.  It sucks and I kinda don't want to talk about it.

Other things of note:

1.  This coming weekend is my much-hyped 5-year college reunion.  I plan on being too hungover on Monday morning to even contemplate blogging about it, alright?  In fact, it would be awesome if I was still a little drunk when I rolled into work.  So head's up on that.

2.  The fam went out to eat yesterday at this Mexican place and I thought, 'man, I should live a little and totally eat some GOAT.'  So I did.  I had a goat sandwich thingy.  It was pretty good, but maybe a little rich considering the quantity I consumed.  It was totally worth it, though, to hear John dry heave at the end of the meal when I concocted several hundred different ways of ways of telling him I had a stomach full of goat.

3.  Let the record state that I am disgusted with myself for not having written a Capitalism:  A Love Story blog yet.  I am a failure as an American.

4.  Speaking of failures, the new Girls Next Door is so bad that I will forever live in shame for having admitted in public that I've watched it.   

That's probably enough for now.  I'm running out of smileys.

This time on "Becky Does..." we explore the capital city of one of America's stranger states:  Texas.  Melissa, taking a rare 4-day break from being stalked by Jake, asked at the airport, "Who's the governor of Texas now?"  She thought it was maybe Ann Richards, whom she decided to refer to as Ann B. Richards, confusedly mishmashing her name with that of Anne B. Davis, aka Alice from The Brady Bunch.  It wasn't until we were actually standing in the Capitol that it hit me that the current governor of Texas is Rick Perry, whom I described to Melissa as, "that jackass who wants Texas to secede from the union."

Texas:  Second only to Alaska in electing governors whom I find personally offensive.

Thursday!  Melissa and I met at the Austin airport and rented a car.  We had a couple of hours to kill before we could check into our hotel, so we hit up a burger joint called Fran's and with that I have exhausted the list of restaurants from the weekend whose names I remember.  (I never remember the names of any restaurants ever, and this weekend was no exception.)

We walked a bit, then, down Congress Avenue and stopped at a couple of shops, including this, the greatest costume store I have ever been in.

Then we checked into our hotel (which wasn't so much a hotel as a nice little guesthouse with neon lights, a wall of windows, and a shared backyard with a fountain) for a brief rest before heading out to Barton Springs where people who weren't us swam in the 68 degree water while the heat index of the air pushed 100.  We walked around a while, decided we were about to die of heat exhaustion, and went to dinner.

Afterwards, we hit up Whole Foods to buy overpriced organic cereal and milk for our upcoming breakfasts (our lodging had a kitchenette) and made it back in time to catch The Office wedding (HA HA on the last 10 minutes or so).  THEN we went a bar called Emo's where we saw The Postmarks and their opening act Brookville.  Melissa warned me that the show would be "late", and by "late" she meant "starting at 11:00," and by "starting at 11:00" that meant Brookville started at 11:00, not The Postmarks.  So I may or may not have nodded off a bit the hours past midnight. 

Friday!  IT RAINED.  And rained and rained and rained.  It poured so much that we didn't leave the hotel before noon.  And the air temperature?  Suddenly not so hot.  For the remainder of the weekend it would be cloudy and below 60 degrees.

After lunch we went to the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, the first Presidential Library I've visited.  This one opened in the early 70s and looked every inch of it.  It featured two full-sized office replicas, one of the Oval Office under President Johnson and one of Lady Bird Johnson's office.  There was also a hall of Presidential and First Lady portraits...cases of memorabilia...displays of all the gifts countries gave to LBJ while he was in office...floors of archives...you know, Presidential Library stuff.  And a MODERATELY TERRIFYING life-sized animatronic figure of LBJ that leaned on a fencepost in the portrait hall and told jokes.  It was even more creepy than it sounds. 

Apparently LBJ's Library is the most visited in the country.  It was pretty interesting, but I had more fun in the gift shop than anything else because they had TONS of vintage political buttons.  And yes, I bought some.  (Last year, when Melissa and I went to San Francisco, I dragged her first thing to the local Obama headquarters so I could buy buttons.  This is what you get if you go on vacation with me.  Political button shopping.)

THEN we continued our politically-themed afternoon by seeing Capitalism:  A Love Story at the Alamo Drafthouse, where we were told to go but not told what to expect, and thus we timed our visit in between meals instead of taking advantage of the option of eating while watching our movie.  I'm saving my remarks for the movie (which EVERYONE SHOULD SEE) until later, as the film deserves its own blog entry.

Then dinner.  Then hotel.

Saturday!  We hit up the Capitol to see where such illustrious individuals as W and "that jackass" Rick Perry have governed the state (as well as many others whom I find more admirable).  We spent a long time wandering the different floors and the grounds and even tried to see the governor's mansion, down the street, but it appeared to be under extensive construction.

After lunch, I attempted to direct Melissa to a work-related company located just outside the city, but we drove and drove and couldn't find it.  So instead we stopped at Austin Lake where it was cold and windy and the sky was so grey that when we came up over a hill, I said, "I see water!"  But it wasn't water.  It was the sky.  Sad. 

We had things we wanted to do in the city for the duration of the afternoon but there was a UT football game that day and we could NOT find a place to park.  We drove FOREVER in circles and finally gave up and came back to our hotel where we sat and did nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

We ventured out again for dinner and attempted to partake in the tourist tradition of watching bats fly out from under the Congress Avenue Bridge at dusk.  But we couldn't find a place to park and spent many, many, MANY minutes circling until we found a spot, before race-walking to the bridge and waiting for 30-45 minutes in the cold.  The bats never showed.  TEXAS-SIZED FAIL, BATS.

To console ourselves, we had s'mores at a trendy bar.

Sunday!  It rained some more.  And we went home.

So that was pretty much Austin.  Shitty weather, shitty parking, but the weekend did have some nice moments.  It also had a lot of Golden Girls because apparently it's on the Hallmark channel every hour of the day and we spent a lot of time watching TV.

And I apologize for the complete lack of pictures, but I didn't take many and Melissa hasn't uploaded hers yet (she got home much later than I and is working today so she can [hopefully] be an extra in Jake's movie tomorrow).

I feel like I rushed through this and skimped on the anecdotes, but there really isn't much to tell.  I mean it was fun to leave Memphis and fun to hang out with Melissa, but Austin didn't win over any hearts this weekend. 

And that's all I have to say.

P.S.  God, I just re-read this and this is a TERRIBLE BLOG.  I am so sorry.  My heart was not in this.  Obviously.  Feel free to ignore this entire thing.

...and yet check out that hit count.  Jake Gyllenhaal:  STILL the primary reason people read what I write.  (It's because I possess such an extra special way of understanding what he says and does, I know.)

I have nothing else to report on that front EXCEPT there is a chance that Melissa might be able to swing being an extra so...fingers crossed!  There's also a rumor that her office will be used as a filming location one day, but we're not sure about that one.  It's kind of a popular spot, though, so who knows??  Her building was used on Friday for a scene in another movie currently filming in Pittsburgh, starring Russell Crowe.

No one filmed anything at my office on Friday, but nonetheless I had quite the week!

I sent my book off to an editor tonight and it's a terrifying thing because this person not only has no knowledge of Jake Watch but knows absolutely nothing about the book at all except that it's nonfiction.  It's a huge test of what I've written.  The book is essentially finished (aside from minor editing) apart from the introduction, which continues to plague me in ways that are cruel and unusual.  I have all the information in place that I want to include but it doesn't yet "work."  I have 115,000 words, and yet the first couple thousand are just shit.  I'm hoping whatever mental blockades are preventing its completion will fall away once I get feedback from my editor.  I'm currently experiencing that half-hysterical, half-depressed feeling that accompanies the relief of sending a draft on its way, knowing it's not quite there but is as good as I'm capable of making it at the moment.

I've been working non-stop on getting it ready for the past two weeks.  And in the past week, I also...

TUESDAY:  ...went to see an exciting Beatles lecture!  The gents who brought the world Recording the Beatles held a lecture at Studio on the Square on Tuesday night and I went with my parents.  It was, in a word, fascinating.  The very first book I read about the Beatles, back when I was 14, was A Day in the Life:  The Music and Artistry of the Beatles by Mark Hertsgaard.  (See?  Even at a young age, I was drawn to people with an unnatural number of a's in their last name!  Also, I love how every one of the recommended books that appears at the top of Amazon's listing are books I own and have read at least twice.)  A Day in the Life is an amazing book and instilled in me an early appreciation for the methods the Beatles used in the studio.  Recording the Beatles takes it several steps further and documents, as exhaustively as possible, exactly what it took to create each and every Beatles song. 

The book took 10 years to compile and one of the authors was fairly young, leading me to believe that I really missed the boat on establishing myself early in a Beatles niche-market (and no, The British Encyclopedia of Paul McCartney Death Clues doesn't count).

I will never listen to "Penny Lane" the same way again.

THURSDAY:  ...avoided going to a Republican state senate fundraising effort held at my landlords' house.  I get this call at work on Thursday and it's my landlady asking me to park my car at the apartment complex next door on account of the party she and her husband are throwing that night.  This happens all the time, but what doesn't happen all the time is me being invited to the party being thrown.  Which is what happens.  I tell her I'm meeting Megan for dinner and will make it if I can (which was all true at the time).  She then tells me that the party in question is a fundraiser being held in honor of a Republican candidate for the state senate.

So obviously I'm not going to go, right?  Oh but when I come home from work and am walking across the yard to my guesthouse from the parking lot of the apartment complex, I see my landlord standing near my door, chatting with a couple (clearly fundraiser attendees) and I hear shouted to me, "We were just talking about you!"  Sure enough, they were chatting about how my landlord had "the most lovely CPA" (CP-fucking-A?!?!?) living in his guesthouse and the male half of the couple, who was wearing a straw hat and an elaborate backbrace OVER his clothing asks me what the "P" in "CPA" stands for.  "I know the rest stands for SUPER ACCOUNTANT!" he says.  Super?  Like "cuper"?  I am so confused at this point.  I just smile.  (For the record, the P stands for "public" and there is NOTHING about what I do which is in anything like what a CPA does.)

My landlord pulls me aside and whispers that I should come to the party because they need all the bodies they can get.  I tell him I'm meeting a friend for dinner but I'll stop by if we're done early (lie).  I then run, as fast as decorum will allow, into my apartment.

When I leave to meet Megan for dinner, I am stared at by several young Republican men who are stationed in the driveway collecting names/donations.  They are somewhat hot and I wonder if I would compromise my values for the sake of talking to them.  And...NO.

Megan is 33 minutes late to the restaurant.  And it's totally cool because this means we're not done with our meal until the party is already over and thus I feel zero guilt for not showing up and do not have to pathetically whore myself out to young Republicans.  Being late was the nicest thing Megan could have done for me so...go Meg!!

At dinner, a high school classmate shows up and does not recognize me.  I'm thankful for reasons that are far too complex and personal to relay here.

FRIDAY:  ...went down to Mississippi to visit relatives!  Who were in town.  It was a lot of fun.  And then I came back home and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote...

SATURDAY:  ...ran a race!  A 10k, to be exact, and for the complete story on that, see my other blog.  I also went to the mall and bought jeans for the first time in 4 years (I'm one stingy son of a bitch) and found that all this running has brought me back to the size I wore in college.  Which was a nice ego booster (much needed, after that race).  And then I came back home and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote...

SUNDAY:  ...visited with the parentals!  And, you guessed it, came back home and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote...

I'm exhausted.  Physically and mentally.  So as of right now, I am on vacation.  No more fucking writing or running for at least...TWO DAYS.  You heard it here.  Hold me to it.  And just in case you thought I was slacking with my weekly accomplishments by not including Monday and Wednesday, I ran 3 miles both days after work.

ALSO, Melissa and I are going to Austin, Texas on Thursday for a long weekend, so unless something exciting happens in the meantime, you likely won't hear from me until I'm back home, at which point I will no doubt write my obligatory "Becky Does Austin" multi-part blog series.

That is all I have to say.

Thank you and GOOD NIGHT.

Jake Gyllenhaal, the temporary tattoo fetishist and one-time Presidential hopeful, has, for years, harbored a not-inexplicable fascination with your incredibly alluring author.  Over the course of this week, we have witnessed many things from Jake.  We have seen him eat his dinner.  We have watched him walk down sidewalks.  We have witnessed him jovially signing autographs, no doubt searching the crowds (as he's been known to do) for my exasperated face.  We have seen Jake do everything in his power to catch my attention...

...but the question I'm asking myself today is...is it really my attention he's trying to catch?

ACTUAL TEXTING CONVERSATION:

Melissa:  Just saw him show up for work.  Got a terrible, blurry pic.  He was taking pics with bystanders!

Becky:  [expletive deleted]  I want to see the picture anyway.  Damn.  Good job!!!  Are you going to stick around in case he comes back out??

Melissa:  We're gonna walk back by in a minute.  My timing is hilariously on point.  I'm not waiting around at all.

END OF TEXTING.

Um, I'm sorry, not waiting?  As in "waiting" with a "not" in front of it?  As in, not standing around for hours on end?  That kind of not waiting? 

I'm not familiar with this concept. 

A skeptic might (MIGHT) come to the conclusion that Jake is trying to make this easy for Melissa...  Maybe it's secretly MELISSA that Jake is obsessed with (!!!!!) !!!!!

Time will tell. 

MEANWHILE, Jake is currently filming, right now, as I type this!  Here's a set pic for you:


And here is Melissa's picture of Jake, which she insists that I precede with the disclaimer that it's awful and she hates it and is ashamed of it.  But we don't care, right?  Because it's so totally Jake!


She adds:  "I think he was throwing a mock tantrum because everyone else under the tent was laughing." 

Poor Jake.  Always putting on a show when my friends are about...

I just got off the phone with Melissa.

Melissa was wandering about this entire day with her camera in hand.  The G-20 starts tomorrow in Pittsburgh and what with all the politicians and the movies being filmed, the Pitt is pretty much the center of the universe right now. 

Melissa didn't see anyone while she was walking about with her camera...but tonight, the one time she left her apartment WITHOUT her camera, she ran into Jake.

"I'm looking at him right now!" she said, as I shouted into the phone, "Go talk to him!  Get his autograph!  Why the hell do you not have a camera?!"

Jake, who was standing around smiling, signing autographs, and taking pictures with people, jumped into a van not long after.  Melissa didn't have any autograph material with her anyway, but as a commanding officer of the Jake Watch fleet, I ordered her to keep a Sharpie and something sign-able in her purse from now until Jake leaves the city.  I also recommended that she never leave home without her "I'm Stalking Jake!" button and then congratulated her on achieving full agent status.


I'm sure she'll run into him again because he's filming in her neighborhood at the moment.  Some party scene at some house, I'm told.  "He looks really good," she said.  "He's all clean-shaven..."

She also reported, "Your boyfriend Brian Williams is here, too."  (Meaning in Pittsburgh, not on her street.  But still!)

For real.  Why am I in Memphis right now? 

I have no doubt there will be more to come.  When there is, I'll be back...

Over and out!

In looking for proper illustrative material for today’s blog, I found myself horrified at the sights I was witnessing.

Has it really come to this?  THIS? 


Jake, so desperate to regain my attention, has taken to disrobing in public. 

It’s a sad, sad fall from grace for our celebrity friend.  He’s always been obsessed with me, I know, but this…this is too much.


God, it’s even worse from this angle.  Peter Sarsgaard is mortified.

Keep it buttoned, Gyllenhaal.  I have a will of steel.  You’re just embarrassing yourself with your wanton ploys for my affection.

I’m so sorry that you all had to witness him like this.  He’ll get over me eventually but there’s no need to humor him when he acts out.

In consolation, would you like EXCLUSIVE JAKE GYLLENHAAL INFO?  HMMM???????

I will translate your deafening silence as a frantic "yes, please give us some exclusive JG, please, please, please!"

So here's a story for you.  I have a friend named Melissa who has a friend named Tara.  They live in Pittsburgh.  I met Tara once while I was visiting Melissa...during the last weekend of Jake Watch no less.  I was celebrating my breakup with Jake and we all went to a grand Halloween party or two and I got low-to-mid-level drunk and was hit on repeatedly by a guy who thought I'd be "perfect" as a cage dancer and then later I ensnared the event photographer just by *existing* and tried to ignore him as he stealthily took several dozen photographs of me and so enamored was he that months later he was still bringing me up to Melissa, all of which was OH MY GOD SO CREEPY.

I have not been back to Pittsburgh since.

But Jake, who doesn't care about creepiness (obvs, because what other explanation is there for having that many buttons undone?) is there right now filming a movie, which I know absolutely nothing about, except that maybe Anne Hathaway is in it.  Or maybe that's another movie.  WHATEVER.

It just so happens that Jake, who is *obviously* stalking me via my friends, is now living in their neighborhood.  Should I visit? 

No.  Because why get his hopes up like that?     

At 7:58 PM CST last Wednesday night, I received the following information from Melissa:  "Tara is, even as I type this, eating dinner 6 feet away from Jake Gyllenhaal. I have probably taken you to eat at [some eating-place]; it's the [insert-nationality-here] restaurant right above it, in which I have never stepped foot. I am, of course, in...Florida, because I am a terrible stalker and went off-mission. But rest assured, he is there, consuming ethnic cuisine."

The following morning, sometime CST, Tara confirmed:  "He was!  It's also, like, Pittsburgh's tiniest restaurant. It seats maybe 25 people." 

HA HA.  Jake.  Just thinking about him in a tiny restaurant makes me laugh.  For no reason. 

He was there with Hank Azaria.  Apparently.  Tara reported to Melissa that he's "SO HOT."   

THREE DAYS LATER...

Tara sees Jake again, on the sidewalk outside of some other restaurant. 

When asking me for stalking tips, I wrote the following to Melissa:

"I once made a list, for a JW post that was never published, of all the things Jake did. There were only four things on it and going to the grocery store was one of them. He also walked on sidewalks and went into and out of airports. I can't remember what the fourth thing was, but I think it's safe to say it didn't involve bars of any variety. I think if you stick to sidewalks and the produce aisle, an encounter is inevitable."

So see?  I know Jake incredibly well, on account of my knowledge of his love of sidewalks.  And Melissa is now back in Pittsburgh, so I expect her to run into him any day now.

I had originally planned this post to contain one long story about Jake eating dinner, but that, my friends, is only the tip of the iceberg!  I just keep getting e-mails about restaurants and sidewalks and "he walks a dog in the mornings (could it be the long-lost Boo, or is there a second Gyllen-canine?!)"  Answer:  It's totally Atticus (I guess)!  And how funny that just today I was editing the "I don't have my puggle" part of my epic Jake Watch book. 

So the short of all this is...I'M PROPHECY GIRL.  And even after two years of not giving a fuck, I STILL get all the good post material on this guy.  I will be back with more Jake info when I have it (Tara will hopefully be e-mailing me her dinner story soon) and YOU'RE WELCOME.  

(But for real, Jake, we are soooooo not getting back together, 'kay?)

Pics from the incomparable IHJ. 

Sorry, I privatized that last entry (in case you clicked and were wondering). If you didn’t read it, you didn’t miss anything. Basically, I’m a pompous jackass and I’ve flitted about the internet the past few days indiscriminately doling out my superior wisdom to everyone I've come across. If you were lucky enough to be the receiving end of my generosity this week then, er, feel free to ignore me. But as for those who have chosen to engage with me, well, there’s no need for me to go dragging them into my public ramblings, is there? Let’s just say I was overcome with suddenly not wanting everyone to know everything that I do!!

And now that I've been totally cryptic and everyone's even MORE confused, I want to say that another reason the blog came down is that I have a quasi-related but oh-so-much-better entry in the works that I think everyone is going to like, but I'm waiting on an e-mail from someone to finish it.  I guess I was too quick to take the other down before I had something to replace it with and I apologize for making it seem like I was teasing everyone.

So I'm sorry.

And Happy Friday!

And more soon...

ABBEY ROAD (September 26, 1969)

Abbey Road was the last album recorded by the group.  It was shortly after the release of this record that the Paul-is-Dead rumors began.  Not surprisingly, then, both the cover and the songs are packed with clues.

The famous album cover contains some of the conspiracy's strongest visual clues.


The first obvious one is Paul's bare feet.  As mentioned with Magical Mystery Tour, it was believed that some cultures (particularly Italian and Indian) buried their dead with no shoes on.  Whether this is true or not, it is hard to tell.  Whatever the case, Paul's explanation for his shoelessness is somewhat weak.  He contended that it was a hot day and preferred to go barefoot, though anyone familiar with asphalt knows that it becomes terribly hot when the temperature rises.

Also extremely suspicious is the cigarette (coffin nail) Paul holds in his hand.  This would not seem unusual (it was well-known that the Beatles smoked) if it weren't for the fact that Paul, a well-known left-hander, was carrying it in his right hand.  As if this weren't enough to raise suspicion, not only are Paul's eyes closed, as most people's are when they are dead, but he was out of step with the other Beatles.  The other three were walking with their left feet ahead while Paul's left foot trailed his right one. 

In addition, each of the Beatles was wearing attire suitable for a funeral scene.  John, leading in white (supposedly the Indian color of sorrow), could represent a priest (some have gone so far as to say God); Ringo, in black (the traditional color of sorrow in the West), the undertaker; Paul, the corpse; and George, underdressed in jeans, the grave digger. 

Close attention was also paid to the white Beetle parked on the side of the road.  Its license plate reads "LMW 28 IF."  This clue was extremely important to some early clue hunters who interpreted it to mean that Paul would have been 28 IF he lived.  Unfortunately, Paul would have been only 27 IF he had lived [1].  Not faltering a bit, the public contrived the unproven story that in some eastern countries, the nine months spent in your mother's womb are counted in your age.  Abbey Road was, indeed, released nine months before Paul's 28th birthday.  The "LMW" preceding the "28 IF" was interpreted to stand for "Linda McCartney Weeps" [2]. 


The back cover, too, contains clues to Paul's demise.  There is a large crack going through the "s" in "Beatles."


Though at the time it was seen as a clue that the group was no longer whole on account of Paul's death, in retrospect it seems much more powerful as a symbol of the group's relationship at the time.  To the right of the band's name, the shadows form what appears to be a skull.  The girl briskly walking by was thought to be the girl who caused Paul's fatal accident.  Her dress and the shadows combine to the right of the skull to form what looks like McCartney's profile [3]. 

In the upper left hand corner a series of dots can be seen.  When connected, the dots can either form the number three, symbolizing the three surviving Beatles, or the number five, symbolizing the four original Beatles and William Campbell.  (Remember, there were "four or five magicians.")  The CD version of this album contains a cropped picture of the original album back.  Only five dots are visible.  As if revealing yet another clue, four stand together in the sunlight while the fifth is off to the side in the shade.


"Come Together":  "...he one holy roller, he got hair down to his knees...come together, right now, over me...walrus gumboot..hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease...he got early warning...one and one and one is three, got to be good-looking 'cause he's so hard to see..."

Clearly, this song is packed with hints.  Paul was a "holy roller" in heaven.  His hair was "down to his knees" because of the well-known story that hair continues to grow after death.  The walrus death symbol was mentioned again.  Paul's "early warning" was his early death.

But perhaps the most crucial clue was the mention of "one and one and one" as equaling three.  Fans wondered if this meant that there were only three Beatles now.  This line was followed by the equally creepy "got to be good-looking 'cause he's so hard to see."  Paul was long known as the cute Beatle, but his death would certainly render him "hard to see" [4].

"Maxwell's Silver Hammer":  "...Bang!  Bang!  Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon his head.  Clang!  Clang!  Maxwell's silver hammer made sure that he was dead..."  Though it contained no specific reference to Paul's "death," this song was designated because of its macabre lyrics.

"I Want You (She's So Heavy)":  The surprise abrupt ending to this song was seen as a reflection of the surprise abrupt ending to McCartney's life.

"You Never Give Me Your Money":  "...one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, all good children go to heaven...."

"She Came in Through the Bathroom Window":  "...and so I quit the police department...Tuesday's on the phone to me..."  Backtracking to the Sgt. Pepper album, the patch worn by Paul read O.P.P.  In which case, this would be a reference to the police, linking it with this song.  It was thought by many that William Campbell was a police officer before he took over McCartney's job.  The reference to Tuesday being connected to Paul (the song's singer) was seen as important because Paul's death supposedly occurred on a Tuesday.

LET IT BE (May 8, 1970)

Though recorded before Abbey Road, Let It Be became the last released Beatles album.  Much like The White Album, this record was created in the midst of creative turmoil.  Also like its predecessor, it contains very few clues.

The album cover contains only a minor hint of Paul's "demise."  The front picture shows four photographs, one of each of the band members.  Three of the Beatles are photographed in front of white backgrounds.  The odd man out is, of course, Paul.  McCartney's backdrop is blood red.


"Let It Be":  "...when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be..."  The "broken-hearted" people was taken to be those knowledgeable of Paul's death.  Taken out of context, the words were thought to be a plea from the Beatles to let Paul's death be.

"The Long and Winding Road":  "...the wild and windy night that the rain washed away has left a pool of tears..."  This line was interpreted to be a description of the night of Paul's death.

SINGLES

The following songs were not found on any original British albums but were instead released only as singles.  Each can be found today on the CD Past Masters Volume Two.

"Lady Madonna":  "...Wednesday morning papers didn't come..."  This line was taken as a reference to the fabled day after Paul's accident when the Beatles recalled all the British newspapers.

"You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)":  Towards the middle of this song a cuckoo clock chimes 5 times.  Immediately afterward a phone number is supposedly read off.  Callers allegedly got messages such as "Beware of Abbey Road..."  As usual, there is no evidence to back this up.  The number was not included in this text because the author has not been able to decipher it.

"The Inner Light":  "...you can know the ways of heaven..."  Oh, come on!  Could anything be more obvious?







Editorial notes from Becky of 2009:
[1]  Yes.  Paul McCartney was my age (27) WHEN THE BEATLES BROKE UP.  I can't even tell you how many times I have contemplated this fact over the past year of my life.  Incredible.

[2]  Paul had the last laugh when it came to the Abbey Road album cover and its role in the Paul-is-Dead hysteria.  He named his 1993 concert album Paul is Live and recreated the famous crosswalk picture.  The license plate on the car on that cover reads "51 IS." :)


[3]  I've never really understood this clue and have long assumed the triangular shadow to the right of the skull was supposed to be Paul's nose.  But I've read in several places that you'll see his profile if you hold the album cover at a distance and then look at the girl's elbow.  Any insight is encouraged and appreciated.

[4]  Each verse of the song "Come Together" is about one Beatle, and the "so hard to see" line does, in fact, come from the verse about Paul.  But that statement had nothing to do with Paul dying and everything to do with the Lennon/McCartney friendship falling apart. 



And that is it. The entirety of The British Encyclopedia of Paul McCartney Death Clues. Those lucky enough to have received an original copy from me in the mid-nineties would have gotten 40 pages: a cover, 15 single-spaced pages of the information you just read, and another 24 pages of black-and-white photocopied album covers and pictures that I ran off at my dad's office.



Now go.  Buy Beatles things.  It is 09/09/09 and, like the Fab Four, none of us will live to see another!


"I'd like to thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition."
- John Lennon, at the end of "Get Back," the last song on Let It Be