homecoming, or four more reasons that nothing will ever get done before nine p.m. this week.

so, we’re building a float.

and by we, i mean basically my roommate and i, since i designed it and she’s in charge of it and we’re sort of just recruiting grunt labor from the other members of our organization to get work done which i actually don’t really have much hope of successfully accomplishing as i have visions of having to paint 4 by 8 plywood myself every night this week.

and it will still probably suck.

because yeah i have this picture in my mind the way i think it should look and i just have this feeling that, like everything else that i have a picture of in my mind, it won’t quite turn out like that.

and i need to be zen about that in a big fat serious way because i don’t have time, at all, to be obsessing about a stupid float for a stupid parade. the float is already going to outshine what we did last year, so what the flip does it matter?

oh, it matters.

because i’m just that anal.

but i seriously don’t have time for this and as i write this i’m becoming more and more anxious about everything that i have to do.

(can you tell? i think you can tell.)

one of the most important job applications (i.e. one of the ones that i REEAAAAALLLLLYYYY would like a shot at) is due on the 24th.

AS IN FRIDAY.

if it’s postmarked, it will probably be fine, but i would like to have it out of my hands by wednesday.

that’s my goal.

but i still have to rewrite everything and mess with everything and OH HOLY FLIP THEY WANT TRANSCRIPTS AND TEACHING EVALUATIONS.

and tonight, what am i doing?

herding cats, otherwise known as getting basically willing, but sort of not willing, volunteers to catch my vision and paint neatly.

sigh.

i’ve been at it since 6:30.  AM. four hours getting stuff together which included some fairly interesting home depot debacles and a serious need for sugar by 930, another hour of sketching the plan onto plywood, a brief nap, stupid ticket meeting that wastes my life, running for way not long enough but oh well it was something and it didn’t feel like i was going to die, seeing tim tebow and percy harvin on their way to practice (i might have lost my breath for a minute, but i’m not sure…), coming home to a letter from australia, and now this minor panic attack while i think about all i have to do and the fact that i told my roommate i would cook for our homecoming breakfast on friday morning.

you know, before i ride in the float that i design and WILL PROBABLY BE FREAKING OUT ABOUT all morning.

why do i do this to myself?

i should get to work, right?

but i think i’ll go watch west wing.  curled up in my bed.  and contemplate why it is that jimmy smits is such a better presidential option than anyone running this week.

sigh.

i can’t believe it.

i just sealed the last envelope to the last letter i’ll send my best friend in australia.

my favorite person, who i haven’t seen or actually talked to in two years, is coming home in twenty-nine days.

i can’t believe we made it.  i can’t believe it’s this close.

tomorrow i mail this thing.

i don’t really know what to do with myself.

letters written from gate d15, part seven.

my head hurts.

i do not understand why parents dress their children alike.  even twins are individuals. buy them a different color, will you please? there’s a difference between coordination and carbon copies.

why do i not wear these loafers more often? they are leather and so lovely and broken in. even my blistered toe doesn’t mind them.

i just bought a $15 book. it better be good, sue monk kidd.

when i arrived at the ticket counter, the guy asked me where i was going and i said Detroit.

he said “you’re in Detroit.”

sigh.  right.

this is a flight to Orlando.  i’m pretty sure it will be entirely populated by kids going to Disney world.  normally, that would make me smile.  but listening to kids scream about the planes flying led me to put on my headphones and turn on itunes.

for a brief shining moment, i thought that the airport was going to have free wi-fi.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA.

no.  who pays $5 for an hour?  i mean, unless it’s your only opportunity for many many moons, who does that?

i’m hungry, and i need to eat (see the above “head hurts” reference), but i fear the price of things.  i have some things in my bag.  maybe i can find something not atrociously expensive.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

maybe i should just let it go. i think something yummy is in order, and i sort of don’t care how much it costs.

i’m frayed. i’m ready to go home.

sour patch kids burn my tongue. but they’re good. and nothing says “drive home without running off the road” than a serious infusion of sucrose.

why did it take me an hour to get my little american tourister bag and my ford focus?

i don’t think i’ve ever been so glad to see my bed.

and, oddly, it feels like fall in florida.  how did that happen?

letters written during a long residence in the Detroit wayne country airport, part six.

with perspective comes metaphor.

i know, you’re surprised. drbolte make something larger out of something small? draw a life lesson from a miserable experience?

shocker.

but i was thinking as i arrived at the airport, the stress of the roads and rental car nightmare behind me,  about detours.

my life has been one big detour.

i don’t mean that in a negative way.  i just mean that we all start out a journey with a particular route in mind. even if we’re aiming to be spontaneous along the way, to allow life to take us where it will, we still have a particular route in mind.

or maybe i should just speak for myself. i did. i pretty much thought i knew where life was going to take me.  i had the road ahead of me quite clearly in my mind, a straight shot.  no real curves or hairpin turns, no steep ascents or dangerous dips.

just straight towards my destination.  do not pass go. do not collect $200.

hasn’t exactly been that way.

i’ve been detoured along the scenic route, coming perilously close to craggy cliffside drops, experiencing breathtaking vistas, and in the process becoming a whole lot different.

my detours have definitely defined me.

this is not breaking news to me.

but what i got to thinking as i got to the airport today was about how the detours i took may have been frustrating (yes!), required more effort and energy (definitely), but that didn’t keep me from getting where i needed to go, where i wanted to go, at precisely the time that i wanted to get there.

what if that’s true of my life too?

my detours have defined me.

but does that necessarily mean that they’ve delayed me?

i have thought for a while that, for whatever reason, i am behind the curve.  i am glad for where i am now, and i recognize that i’ve had to experience what i’ve had to experience for reasons probably beyond i can fathom, but i guess i’ve always thought that meant that i was developmentally delayed, so to speak.

i am beginning to think not.

THAT is new and breaking news.

maybe, just maybe, i’m getting where i need to go at exactly the time that i am meant to get there.

letters written during an interminable residence on the Michigan highways, part five.

remember that detour i mentioned?  that took me through a snapshot of my American dream?

it was the first of many, and the last of the nice.

i left myself plenty of time to leave Oakland university, drive back to Detroit, and return my rental car before it would be late. i made sure to ask when that would be, and i was told that i had a 29 minute grace period from the time i signed it out.

totally doable.  i was leaving at 12:15, and it had taken me about an hour when i was entirely unfamiliar with both location and my vehicle, and the car had to be back by 2:20.

no problem, right?

enter the Michigan department of transportation, who decided that midday Saturday was the time to mess with the minds of everyone who wanted to access i-75 southbound, by closing EVERY.SINGLE. ONRAMP. for probably a fifteen mile stretch and then send drivers on an endless loop of detours that NEVER. WENT. ANYWHERE.

i’m not kidding.

to be fair, i had heard rumblings about i-75 being closed.  but when i got on it on Thursday, all of the signs said that it would be closed from 11 p.m. to 5 a.m.

i.e. NOT when i would be driving on it.

so i’m all “no worries!” and move on with my life.

as one would.

now imagine if you would, me.  after following the insane loop of detours for several miles and realizing, finally, that this was taking me nowhere  (which actually happened more quickly than i would normally have thought, so yay me), i decided to do what was the only option available to me.

drive north until i find an onramp that’s open. then get off and get on southbound i-75.

so i do that.

but as i drive north, i realize that southbound i-75 is basically a parking lot for miles because they have closed it down to one lane.

this is when i start to panic.

and the panicking leads to tears, which leads to calling my mom, which leads to her trying to fix it by telling me to call the rental car company and tell them what was going on and demand that they not charge me extra when all i wanted her to do was tell me that if i had to pay thirty extra dollars it wasn’t the end of the world.

we got there eventually, but if there’s anything more pathetic than a girl crying in a rented jetta wearing jeans that are too big with the beginnings of a blister on her toe, talking to her mom on the phone because she just desperately wants somebody to save her sanity, i don’t really know what it is.

i got through the traffic jam.  it wasn’t as bad as i thought.

but i prayed the whole way.  please, i said out loud, let me get there on time.  make miracles happen.

so i drove.  and i drove kind of fast, but nothing crazy, just going with the flow of traffic.

i am looking for i-94, my connection to the airport.

and i see another sign that says that i-75 is closed ahead.

as in CLOSED.

so this time, i pay attention to the signs and take the detour, hoping against all hope that this one leads me to the right place.

i get on yet another highway, headed toward downtown, hoping that this doesn’t turn out with me by the side of the road in downtown Detroit, talking to my mom again because i’m irreparably lost.

because that’s just a recipe for a law and order episode, you know?

i get close to the i-94 interchange, and see that one of the on-ramps was closed.

and nearly lose my mind.

but then i realize that it was the onramp going the opposite way. my onramp was free and clear and ready for me.

and even though i had to stop for gas and had to turn around in a mcdonalds parking lot to do it, i got to the rental car place.

with five minutes to spare.

miracles happen, y’all, even to basketcase girls who are apparently not good travelers.  or to tired people who just want to go home and don’t do well with frustration anyways.

prayers work and i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy to leave a set of highways in my life.

letters written during a short residence in a capra-esque town, part four.

i chose option four, in case you were wondering, which included sleeping through my allotted workout time, skipping the first set of sessions, and skipping shopping in order to go to a panel that was ultimately fairly interesting and at least taught me that i know what i’m talking about regarding travel developments in late eighteenth century Britain.

which is, you know, good to know.

rochester is a dream.  detoured through picturesque (ah, the importance of my use of that word when i’m talking about travel doesn’t escape me…although it probably does you which is okay) neighborhoods with big bales of hay out front, suvs in the driveway, and an aura that screamed WAY upper middle class living, i found myself driving through my dream life.  sounds weird, huh?  but it’s true.

i want to live in a neighborhood like that, with my kids and a little dog and the discretionary income to spend on ridiculously adorable outdoor fall decorations.

i am a white girl.  and that is my white girl upper middle class american dream.

it was lovely.

and small.  that part of town was small.  but it, combined with main street, made me really like the little town that i stayed in for these three days.  detroit i may be ambivalent about, but rochester won me over.

it won over the german guy who presented in the session that i attended too.  he called it middle America, and said that’s what he wanted to experience.

we all did, this week, in a weirdly posh way.  i think we’d all like to imagine that this is middle America, the diners on main street, the little houses in a neighborhood populated by strollers and soccer balls.

but what’s really middle America is what i’m going back to—working hard.  trying to pay bills.  trying to find a way to balance everything i want to do and everyone i want to do it with.

but the fictional snapshot out of a refurbished 1950s dream is nice too.

you know, without the aprons and heels.

letters written during a short residence in a posh hotel, part three.

i can’t decide what to do:

get up, get ready, check out, drive to the university, go to several panels, and then go to the airport to return my car on time

OR

get up, work out, laze about, check out, go shopping at nordstrom rack (THEY DON’T HAVE THOSE WHERE I LIVE!) and borders (i read my book.  three hours to wait in the airport. you do the math.) and the halloween superstore (need antenna!), and then go to the airport to return my car

OR

get up, check out, go to one panel session, leave early, go shopping quickly at nordstrom rack et al, and then go to the airport to return my car.

i’m leaning towards the third, which will mean that i need to go to bed soon but i am watching lost in austen and it’s AH-MAZING (i love you all. truly. thanks for helping a girl out.) and it feels sort of tangentially related to what i’m doing here and i took a nap this afternoon when i was all “i’m done and want to go home”-y.

so…yeah. not so much with the sleeping.

except that i may be in love with this bed and not want to leave it.

or the rental car that they gave me, which is a jetta. i love my focus, but this jetta makes me feel like a high roller.

i’m a girl with simple tastes.

so…option one, two, or three?  i think i’ll feel guilty if i don’t go to any more sessions, but i’m kind of done.  too much to think about, too much to do.  i met someone who said she considers conferences like this vacation because when she gets back, she’s back under the gun.

is it weird that i want to get back under the gun? i’d like to check this off my list of things i did successfully so that i can get back to laboring aggressively towards more check marks.

oh, i don’t know.

letters written during a short residence in a posh hotel, part two.

this hotel is incredible.

i don’t know how to describe it, except to say that i’ve been to the ritz…once…and i think this is on par with it. the bathroom has sconces.  not just a light, but legitimate sconces. the bathtub is so deep it’s a trial to step into it (bring on more of those trials, thank you very much).  the towels are HUGE and fluffy.  the gym is incredible. they have a nightly turndown service, pillow chocolates and all.  there is a TV IN THE ELEVATOR (perpetually turned to ESPN2, which i’m unclear about, but whatever).

i totally don’t belong here.

the bed is huge. i can sleep across it and not even be too short.  note to self: find a husband.  THEN, buy a king size bed.  and a down comforter.  and employ a maid.

they have bbc america here, although thus far there has been little on tv.  free wireless.

it’s all just awesome.  but it oddly, at first, made me feel totally out of place.  cute valet guys opening the doors for you?

weird. and awesome.

mainly how i feel about detroit, but in miniature.

in other news, my outfit for today, which was my presentation day, carefully considered and pondered over a phone call with mom when i was flipping out because NOTHING! LOOKED! RIGHT! was so successful that every time i looked in the mirror, i said, out loud, “i’m going to wear this outfit every day for the rest of my life.”

or maybe i’d just like to look that put together, skinny, and adorable every day for the rest of my life.

that wouldn’t suck.

letters written during a short residence in an incredibly posh hotel that still tries to keep its casual atmosphere by not making me feel badly about my chili’s to-go bag, part one.

preface

you may not know this (i’m not sure why anyone but me and possibly my mom would), but i traveled to detroit, to a place i’ve never been before, to attend a conference i’ve never attended before to talk about these three women, all of whom wrote travel narratives that i wrote my paper about.

the symmetry is not lost on me.

so i pay homage to them, and the other women who make of my crazy life a career, by ever-so-humbly following in their footsteps.

part one

driving into detroit i was struck by the presence of two very contrasting emotions.  michigan from the air is beautiful. the fall leaves are just hitting their peak, and i missed those colors.  every time i saw a bright red tree, seemingly on fire, my heart thrilled.  as i drove into rochester, i saw a tree that with its yellow seemed almost an explosion of sunshine and i involuntarily grinned.  i saw lake michigan for the first time from the air too, and almost wasn’t sure what it was, it was so big and grand.

driving through detroit, though, i felt the weariness of a city that seems depressed.  i don’t mean that in the very economic or political ways that it could be (and has been) used in recent days.  i mean that every city has a feeling. new york makes me feel alive in a way that i’ve never felt before.  los angeles feels schizophrenically split into worlds that don’t make sense as a whole.  raleigh feels small and crowded, contradictory yet true.

detroit feels tired.

and yet, as i drove, i felt incomprehensibly drawn to it.  i rebelled against it, at first.  i wondered if i was looking for things to love, rather than just responding to it.  i think the opposite is actually true. i never thought i would like detroit.  detroit is…detroit. it’s the city of car factories and motown, of industrialization and henry ford.

it doesn’t seem to be my kind of town.

i’m not really saying that it is. but there’s something about it that forces you to look beyond its dirty, tired exterior to see beauty beneath it all.

the rundown homes alongside i-94 make me sad, testify to communities that desperately need attention.  and yet they are built of the most beautiful brick that i’ve ever seen, commanding a sense of strength and perseverance that homes that dilapidated don’t usually convey.  these homes have character and desperately want to be loved.

sounds cheesy, but it’s true.

and amidst all of the industrial north of the detroit area, there are little glimmers of amazing. like the two story barn that i pass on my way to the hotel, that’s old but still remains, still painted with advertisements and a testament to the history of this area.

so, i’m not sure if i really love it here. i don’t know that i would want to live in detroit. but i’m struck by the way a place has its own personality and how, if you pay attention, a place can teach you something.

we all ought to look beneath the surface more often, you know?

even when that surface is a three-story tire.

i’m not kidding.

learn from me.

things you shouldn’t do the night before your big trip to motor city for your big debut at a big conference where bigwigs and people with big influence on your big job search are going to be:

• just barely finish your paper.  or, i should say, finish a draft of a paper that eventually will end up being your paper. that you will present.  in front of important people.
• consider NOT turning in your interlibrary loan book that’s already eight days overdue. they’ve already blocked you from using ILL. what else could they do?
• consider NOT going to the bank.  where’s the money going to come from? huh?  magic tree?
• try on all of your outfits as you pack them when all you did to yourself today was get out of the shower and sort of blowdry your hair, which is now pulled back with a headband.  not the most attractive you’ve ever looked.
• watch a jon and kate plus 8 marathon when you’re just a smidge baby crazy already.
• think too hard about what you’re about to do tomorrow.
• not make a list of things to bring.

in other news, those of you who posted links to lost in austen are my bestest friends in the whole wide bloggery world and i heart you.  i am looking forward to spending an entire day with it, which may actually happen on sunday when i get back.

here’s to taking vitamin c and airborne and not making a complete mockery of myself!  think good thoughts!