Archive for February, 2013

Comedic Relief

Silver Linings Playbook. Beautiful movie. Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence are the perfect mix–enough to make two mentally unstable people look glamorous. The more I see Jennifer, the more I fall in love with her. Let’s not forget about her fall at the Oscars. After all, how many actresses become so successful in such a short amount of time? Many people dislike her for this ongoing competition with Meryl Streep, but with all due respect to Meryl, I say Jennifer has every right to brag. Maybe she is the next Meryl. To be so charismatic in real life is truly unique in Hollywood, especially around the abundance of Kristen Stewarts. And the movie itself was beautifully made: it shows how two people, regardless of how abnormal, can fall in love….how you have to know a person before you judge them, and in most cases, you can find yourself to be pleasantly surprised. And lastly, that imperfections often make us the strongest of characters. The movie deserved every award it received.

So I ended up missing my Princeton tour due to an extremely delayed flight, and I’m convinced this is fate telling me something. In fact, instead of touring, my parents and I went out for good food, which may or may not be indicative of my future. Edison, New Jersey is the Mecca for Indians, and I’m not quite sure how to explain every bit of this place with the right words. While cities are full of China Towns or Little Italys, Indians rarely have fully Indian neighborhoods. But Edison is India. We first discovered this place through word of mouth and visited during a trip to New York City. Driving onto Oak Tree Road is like escaping into India, into a quaint neighborhood in Delhi or even Calcutta. Brick facade houses are covered with signs of doctors, lawyers, beauticians—all with Indian names. Seldom do you see any other race. In the days when we used to visit India every two years, Edison was a filler, easing the pains of missing home for my parents, and giving me my yearly dosage of mind blowing Indian food. And although we visit the homeland more often, Edison has a familiar, fresh feeling that makes me long for Calcutta. I have memorized the streets and the store names, where the best sweets are sold, where you can find the latest movies. So last night, feeling a bit down from missing Princeton, we took a trip to Edison. And indulged. I am undoubtedly a foodie, but this is mostly genetic. We Mukherjees take pride in our immense love for food, and our appreciation for the finer tastes in life. What started as one or two sweets from a Bengali store turned into sweet shop hopping, and suddenly it felt as if I had magically appeared in Calcutta, with my relatives stuffing food down my throat. After an excess of milky sweets, we made our way to an Indo-Chinese restaurant and attempted to take advantage of whatever appetite we had left. Key word: attempted. Indo-Chinese is the collaboration of Indian spices and Chinese tastes, and is possibly the most wonderful cuisine in the world. While some Chinese people might not find it authentic, those who once migrated to India were the creators. It has fallen into its own category. The food alleviated the pains of college for at least a brief period of time, though I suppose United airlines is the only thing that can be blamed, and partially Mother Nature. Or, you know, fate.

Since I’ve had lots of time on my hands in the past 30 hours or so, I had the great fortune of reading Tina Fey’s autobiography, which I would highly recommend for any woman, aspiring comedian/actor, or depressed person. Although I found Mindy Kaling’s autobiography slightly more relatable (definitely written for teenage girls), Tina’s evoked more laughs than I have in me. At one point, while on the flight to Newark, I started laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes, which obviously attracted many looks. Blame Tina for that one, folks. Having read two autobiographies of celebrities in a matter of a few days has made me realize something important: anyone can make it in the big league. All it takes is passion and perseverence. There will be humiliating, depressing, and downright frustrating moments, but there is nothing like the feeling of success. Mindy started off in New York City after college with zero fame, aspiring to be a comedy writer. And after years of struggle, she slowly started making her way to the high ranks. She and her roommate started their own show, with the help of 99.9% passion and diligence and 0.1% money. Eventually, she became a writer on the Office, and now, she has her own show. This is the definition of success and diligence. In fact, Tina, in my opinion, had a rougher start. She didn’t succeed during any auditions, had a low-rating show, and worked mundane jobs. On SNL, her boss, after years, asked her to act on TV, and she took her passion for improv and turned it into a brilliant impression of Sarah Palin. And she wrote Mean Girls, so she is perfect in my eyes. Daily dosage of TR inspiration (plus that of Mindy and Tina): if you want to pursue something, try and fail and try again, and then try it a different way, and don’t stop until you are satisfied. Also a tip I learned from both Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, the two geniuses of comedy: if someone doesn’t like the way you do something, then keep doing it because who really cares if they don’t like it. Okay so maybe there were some vulgar words in the original quote, but I like preserving my innocence. Two fantastic books to read when you have a few hours to spare

I imagine that most normal human beings have this dream, and I don’t mean to be unoriginal, but I would love to close my eyes and buy a plane ticket to any random place. One of my favorite things to do at airports is to peruse the Departures list and imagine myself in the most exotic place. On this trip, this place seems to be Shanghai, though I can’t say I’m complaining about Aruba. To lie on the beach with no worries and read guilty-pleasure books like The Notebook (I might regret this one later when I start crying in public….I’m trying to deal with my emotional book problems) and eat exotic food and order virgin (of course) Daiquiris—it all sounds like a dream. It’s been a while. My mom’s goal for this trip is to go diving, and mine is to go horseback riding, but I can’t say my body feels the same way. The best part is that I’m done with my homework and I’ve saved my science research for when I get back. It’s as if my shoulders can breathe. I literally have goosebumps thinking of this.

I can’t find any of my trashy books on the plane right now, so I’m listening to the classical station and attempting to guess the name of the piece. I’m actually doing well. Judge me all you want.

Until Aruba!



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note: this was written yesterday, forgot to post it

I am wondering what it would be like to travel aboard the Titanic, aboard the grant ship in the world. Regardless of the final outcome of the ship, it must have incredible to be on the ship during those times, though they probably never realized they would make history. National Geographic is recreating the Titanic for 2016, and I’m wondering if I will ever have to courage to sail on it. Unfortunately, I tend to believe in omens and fate, which wouldn’t serve me too well. But traveling upon it would almost be like traveling to the past, to a time of grandeur. I often think about where we have come from the early 20th century, from times that were both difficult and luxurious. I had a quite cliched dream of living in the 20s, in the Golden Age. After all, the best writers existed during those times. And I am also wondering if 100 years from now, people will aspire to live in these times. I hope not. Maybe our world is in a phase, transitioning between stages. As a generation, we seem utterly confused, and it’s often frightening to think that the world lies in our hands. Here’s to hoping we turn it around.

I both love and detest airports. Something about them spurs the excitement about trips, but I also become, interestingly enough, really nervous in them. Every time I pass throu security, I am convinced something will go wrong, that I will accidentally have a bottle of perfume and get detained or that I will be called for a spontaneous interrogation. I always happen to be that one person singled out for a pat down, and I’ll just ignore the fact that I’m of a different race. How harmful can a short, teenage Indian girl really be? The Mukherjee curse of traveling has yet to have come into play (knock on wood). My mom already managed to pack an entire bottle of face cream in her handbag, which called for slight conflict at security, but this is Burlington, and everything worked out. She is my mom and I do love her, so I, unfortunately, have to deal with all these shenanigans.

Princeton tour later today. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I am convinced that I will fall in love with the school, only to be broken hearted in early April of next year. On the other hand, it is incredible to think that this could be my school one day. I’ll keep you updated.

Aruba tomorrow—this hasn’t even sunk in. There have been thirty five bullets on my to-do list for the past three weeks, and now that I’m finally down to about three, I have every right to relax. In fact, I deserve to relax. I left all of my school work at home, including my laptop (yes, I know). Unfortunately, this means that all my blogging is done on an iPad, which calls for a lot of errors, so spare me. My only qualm about Aruba is that there isn’t much to blog about. Maybe this means a break from TR for a few days. Yikes. Or maybe I’ll just be inspired by the white sand and crystal clear waters and come away with a surplus of poetry.

Happy traveling!


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Written for or to no one in particular; just some musings and scribbles for the sake of writing.  

I have dreamt of listening to your raspy voice (or smoky or smooth, whichever you prefer) murmur the words off of a page, page after page, book after book, because I have always dreamt of being read to.  Me weeping at the sentiments of characters & finding solace in the way I hold your hands & tracing the tinted lines on your soft palms.  And oftentimes, lying by the fire where the sizzling of the embers break the lull of your reading & drifting into a delicate sleep with my head on the curves of your shoulders.

I have dreamt of winter days like these, creating imprints in the snow with footsteps & wandering to the top of the hill with the grafittied bench, where the sun dances at the end of the day.  Closing our eyes & feeling the icy wind wash away our inhibitions & sinking into our deepest desires, our fears, our dreams. Sipping hot chamomile tea by the frosty window when the air is too chill (because there is something romantic about chamomile tea) & watching your eyes wander with every emotion.  And listening to your stories, to the way you have lived life & the mistakes you have made on the way.  I have always dreamt of knowing you.

But while dreaming, I have wondered if falling in love with me is a mistake.  I am often broken, often short-tempered & misunderstood, often stumbling to find the proper words.  I am fearful, yet strong-willed; happy, yet unhappy; a walking paradox.  And if you do fall in love with me, realize that I smile with my eyes; that I dance when I play music because it is my escape; that I ponder the existence of life for hours until this convoluted mind of mine can bear no more; that I am curious & often lost in my curiosity.  Realize that I am not trusting, but will still divulge my inner musings to you; that sometimes I will speak for hours without a stop & other times spend a day without speaking because I am tangled in a web of thoughts; that I will care for you when you are in the dullest of states; that I will often find myself mystified by you & your surreality.  And in all of this, I will give you a love that is subtle, yet strong; I will dream of all it will be.  Because you, in my mind, are worthy of every dream.

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Live Oscar Tweeting

My one pet peeve is live tweeting, but, unfortunately, I am guilty of this tonight with the Oscars.  I have too many thoughts and opinions, so I’ve decided to post them on TR instead.  Bear with me.

  • Red Carpet—this is my favorite part of the Oscars.  Everyone looks magical (except Helena Bonham Carter is just a little too much at times).  Just a few people who took my breath away: Kristen Chenoweth, Jennifer Lawrence, Bradley Cooper, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and many more.
  • Jamie Foxx is such a versatile performer.  Everything he does is incredibly profound.
  • When Joseph Gordon and Dan Radcliffe came out to sing, my heart began to melt.  Once Paul Rudd came out, my heart completely disintegrated.  (Paul needs to fix up a bit of his facial hair, though).
  • Seth MacFarlane is embarrassing himself.  In fact, I am a bit embarrassed for him.  I’m not even in the audience, but I have already felt offended by his racist, sexist, and tasteless jokes.  Let’s try again, Academy.  (Bring back Tina and Amy!)
  • Jennifer Hudson singing is giving me goosebumps.  I have yet to have seen such a confident, gorgeous, and talented celebrity.  She is incredible on so many levels.
  •  The Les Mis cast singing One Day More live.  I cannot even handle myself.  It reminds me of that time I cried like a baby in the movie theatre.  As Hugh and Anne came out, my happiness meter began to escalate, but once Eddie and Amanda appeared, I couldn’t hold it in.  There have been a lot of squeals in our house.
  • The teddy bear from Ted pronounced Les Miserables better than John Travolta.  Should he take note of that?  #mostembarrassingtravoltamoments
  • Whoever created the jewelry commercial with the Gollum appearance/voice probably didn’t realize the harmful effect it would have on my emotional stability.  I’m officially not sleeping tonight.
  • Where is Meryl Streep, and why is Jennifer Lawrence so intent on competing with her?  Meryl is a legend, fact established.
  • There are so many films I have yet to have seen—Silver Linings Playbook, Life of Pi, Django Unchained, Argo, Lincoln.  Is it just me, or has this past year been tremendously successful for this industry?  Except for the lack of Meryl, of course.
  • The Sound of Music reference—incredible.  Hollywood should continue to be inspired by this beautiful work.  And even almost a 100 years later, Christopher Plummer still has the same charm and talent of his young days (someone catch the joke).
  • I have been in love with Sally Fields since I first set eyes on her, on Mrs. Doubtfire.  She is beautiful and talented, and of course I love her for her legendary 1985 Oscars speech.
  • ANNE HATHAWAY WON BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS!  This should be of no surprise to anyone who watched Les Misactually it shouldn’t be of no surprise to anyone.  To be able to play a character with such poignance is beautiful.  I haven’t always been a fan, but after Les Mis, Anne is my hero.  And let’s not forget how stunning she looks with her pixie cut.  She nearly brought me to tears with the end of her acceptance speech: “Here’s hoping that some day in the not-too-distant future, the misfortunes of Fantine will only be found in stories, and never more in real life.”
  • I have to admit that I have had mixed feelings about Jennifer Lawrence.  After watching the Hunger GamesI definitely was not a fan, but perhaps this is due to my disliking of that movie/book in general.  But seeing her charisma on the Red Carpet makes me love her so much.  She’s unlike many other actresses, and I think that’s important.
  • Adele singing Skyfall.  Everything is perfect about this song—the orchestration, her smoky voice, the lyrics.  The choreography in this live performance seems a bit robotic, to me, but otherwise, Adele is beautiful.  Twitter agrees with me.  Just a glimpse into some of the tweets about her: Screen shot 2013-02-24 at 10.38.26 PMScreen shot 2013-02-24 at 10.38.37 PMScreen shot 2013-02-24 at 10.38.53 PM
  • Sometimes I believe that I am Broadway geek, before realizing that I actually don’t know much about Broadway.  Nevertheless, I still went a bit crazy hearing All That Jazz from Chicago.  You go Catherine Zeta!
  • Daniel Radcliffe and Kristen Stewart presenting together: I am convinced this is Hollywood attempting to combine two separate worlds, which is both wrong and impossible.  It should be Dan and Helena Bonham presenting.  Come on, Academy!  Does Kristen Stewart ever use inflection while speaking?  I suppose that’s the vampire way.
  • Screen shot 2013-02-24 at 10.50.59 PMI’m just beginning to realize that a significant amount of people I follow on Twitter include fictional Harry Potter characters.  I promise that this isn’t completely bizarre for the world of Twitter.  And in my defense, they’re hilarious, and convey the characters perfectly.  J.K. Rowling would be proud.
  • Most people are obsessive over the Super Bowl, but I have found that the Oscars is my Super Bowl.  It is a night of good food, cheering, and incessant tweeting.  If you can tweet about the 49ers 49 times, then I am also allowed to tweet about the Oscars umpteen times.
  • Life of Pi seems like such a beautiful film.  Unfortunately, the book and I did not work out, but I keep promising myself to give it another chance.  Nevertheless, it is a wonderful story.  And as an Indian, I am, of course, biased.
  • Norah Jones—either I love her for her voice or for our mutual roots.  She, like me, is a Bengali, and sometimes I use this as an excuse to pretend that I can become as talented and successful as her as a singer.  I can dream, can’t I?
  • One of my favorite parts about the Oscars (besides the Red Carpet) is when they announce the winner for each category.  The facial expressions, the hugs, the tears, the kisses—they all profoundly explain every raw emotion that exists at that moment.  It reminds us that these actors and actresses are real people with real emotions. To win an Oscar is quite an honor, and a significant indicator of success.  The winners, and even nominees, have every reason to take pride in themselves.
  • Good news: Meryl is in the house, and as smoking as ever.  She has a way of stealing the spotlight that no other person in the world, I’m convinced, can do.  She is perfect.  I can’t imagine anyone better to announce such a significant category.
  • And the Oscar goes to….Argo!  I love this moment.  I love the music.  I love the speechless expression on Ben Affleck.  I love the endless smiles on stage.  What a win.  I’ll be sure to watch this one first from my extensive list of movies-to-watch!

And so it’s been another year.  Thank you for bearing with this string of thoughts.  Sometimes I wish I had a talk show.

Enjoy your week!


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This past week has been made up of so many minute, yet significant moments.  In a way, it’s been a compilation of deja vu events, which have made me realize how much I miss out.

I have been in this town for 12 years, and sometimes it feels as if I don’t really look around.  I seldom pay close attention to the people around me, the people who have been with me for years and years.  Sometimes thinking about the people I have known since my childhood, I wonder who they are—who they truly are.  I know them as faces in the classroom or over my Facebook newsfeed, but who are they really?  What do they like, what inspires them, what is their biggest fear?  There’s that girl who sits in the back corner of every class and that teacher who talks strictly about his professional life and that office secretary who is eminent for her radiant smile.  But I often wonder why they do what they do, and who they are outside of these barriers they are known for.  Other times, I wonder if there are people who notice me when I am not looking.  Am I just known for my blog or my violin or my voice piercing through the school speakers twice a day?  Is there someone who knows me whom I don’t know?  I feel like every day, I am noticing someone or something new, and each time, I am pleasantly surprised.

This year, I’ve had the honor of getting to know so many new people on so many intimate levels.  As you may or may not know, I’m working on some science research at the South Burlington Wastewater Treatment Facility with one of the lab technicians there.  I never realized that this research would teach me so much more than science.  Over the hours I have spent with this project, I have gotten to know my mentor on such a deeper level.  Together, we have struggled through multiple failures, talked about what we love (we’re both violinists), and lamented about our busy days.  And although she is a middle-aged professional and I am merely a teenager, the mutual respect between us sets a relaxing and fun environment for our work.  This makes me excited for the rest of the world that I am bound to see.  Oftentimes, it feels as if my world is solely South Burlington, and as if my lifetime is solely symbolized by the past 16 years.  But there is a world out there full of people to meet, full of stories to tell, and this, in itself, is enthralling.  I picked up a book about journalism this morning, with stories from various journalists and their lives, and I find such comfort in their words, in how similar they are to my own thoughts.  Writing is cathartic, as is meeting new people and hearing their stories.  While media is chasing useless celebrities and pursuing scandalous stories, there exists a surreal world with surreal experiences that are often understated.  And that is what I want to pursue.  Beyond Paris and Venice, beyond Bar Harbor and Burlington, there are endless places, so distant in our minds.  Journalism connects them, and that’s what I want to do.  I’m not sure where this string of thoughts went.

I had my cabaret this past week, and the feeling of being under the lights on center stage was unlike anything I have ever felt.  I love performing.  I love hearing the echo of my voice and emphasizing words and pausing and breathing.  I love ripples of laughter and smiling.  It didn’t matter that my performances didn’t go all that well; all that mattered was that I truly enjoyed myself.  It was the first time I felt almost no nerves.  And that’s significant.  One of my dreams is to perform a dramatic monologue—a monologue that invokes the deepest of emotions in the audience members, one that brings about a silence in the auditorium that is only broken by soft breathing, one where I can hear my heart beating.  To deliver such a monologue and to deliver it well is quite the feat.  Maybe one day, this dream will become more than makeshift performances in my basement with my prized book of monologues.

I walked around Crow Bookstore downtown this morning while waiting for a friend, and I realized it is the type of bookstore I always imagine myself in.  The immediate whiff of incense brought to mind images of India, and the creak of the wooden floors reminded me of Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail.  I spent quite a long time in there, strolling through the aisles, contemplating the various discounted books.  I finally opted for the journalism book I was talking about before, and A Tale of Two Cities.  Big news: my writing is published in that store!  Some of my work was featured in Young Writer’s Project’s yearly anthology, which is on sale there.  Thus, I suppose I can say I’ve had my work in a bookstore, though I don’t know if that technically counts.  It’s one step closer to where I want to be, at least.   Anyways, I think I’ve found my new place to go (plus it’s just a minute away from Starbucks).  My only qualm is that the collection there is limited, but I suppose you can’t have everything in life.

What a dream it would be to own a quaint bookstore like Crow—to have wooden floors and a bell at the entrance, to have aisles that are filled with Shakespeare and Ernest Hemingway and Jane Austen, as well as Sophie Kinsella and Jodi Picoult and Nicholas Sparks (okay, so maybe I love his books; sue me).  How incredible it would be to be one of those store owners who knows every book, who can empathize with buyers who have strong opinions about certain books and talk for hours about that one infuriating character.  I can just see myself in a corner of Boston as the owner of that one bookstore, the hipster one that attempts to compete with the big guys—and does so successfully.  I can see myself sneaking in a few chapters when nobody is in the store, or asking someone about who they are and immediately knowing what book to recommend.  I can see that one customer who comes in every Saturday, asking me how my lasst book went, if I had cried or laughed, if I had loved or hated it.  I love dreaming.  

Sometimes I think living in Vermont is making me too much of a hippie.

I’m officially on break, which not only means a break from school, but a break from my mental instability during school.  I have already had the pleasure of kicking back and reading a book, watching a movie, and catching up with a good friend.  I’m touring Princeton on Wednesday, and then flying out to Aruba for the rest of the vacation, so I can’t really say things aren’t going well.  Until then, I have a 1000 word essay left for an application, and a pile of laundry to fold—but this will be a good break.  I can already feel it.

Happy vacation!


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Weeks Like These

I come close to rear ending cars in front of me at least twice a day.  This statistic has seemed to inflate this week, however.  It’s been busy, and driving has been my only moment of solitude, to think.  I often find myself wandering, and I figure that maybe driving isn’t the best time to do this.  Lately, the radio has been repetitive to me, so I’ve found myself sitting in the silence, mentally rehearsing my monologue or two poems for Poetry Out Loud.  Early in the week, one of these trains of thought was interrupted by a police chase on Dorset Street, where I had the great privilege of seeing two people pinned down to the ground and arrested.  Now, I realize that this might be my inner journalist speaking, but I thought it was so fascinating.  I also realize that being around a situation like this isn’t necessarily safe, but I suppose it’s a good sign that I’m so curious.  I’m not quite sure.

Monday and Tuesday, I spent my days at the DECA Business State Competition, where I managed to come in first in my category, Marketing Management, with adequate preparation.  But more than this, DECA was just a nice break in general.  It feels like I became closer to some of my friends, and also had some time to kick back and have fun.  Photobooth, karaoke, comedy, the Chicken Dance—all of it brought out the inner kid in me.  And isn’t it ironic that this happened at a business competition?  Nevertheless, I’m glad that I overcame my stress over preparation and actually participated.  If I hadn’t, I would’ve missed a few good laughs.

Speaking of comedy, the VYO performed yesterday for a group of students to preview the concert with Professor Kubinek, which is tonight. While I was anticipating something slightly bizarre, I didn’t realize that Kubinek, a vaudevillian, would actually be funny.  Actually, I don’t know if funny is the word.  He just changed the environment of our orchestra.  We never realized that our conductor would let loose like he did during the concert.  It’s always fun to see your conductor being harassed on stage by a clown.  Anyways, if you’re reading this before 7pm on Friday night, it’s not too late to come to our concert!  Tickets will most likely be on sale at the door of the Flynn or online.  It’s just an incredible performance all around.  I highly suggest it.

As if this week hasn’t been busy enough, I’ve been terribly sick.  Being sick and sounding like a Rugrat is never ideal, and with the stress of missing three days of school, I’ve definitely been near-breakdown a couple of times.  I’m also on a few different medications for the various aspects of my cold, which calls for a lot of exhausting days.  But good news is that today, I won our school’s Poetry Out Loud competition, which is a competition for poetry recitation.  It was the perfect opportunity for me.  I spent hours last weekend sorting through the possible poems, and I had the time of my life.  I finally ended up choosing Heaven by Cathy Song and When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats.  However, reading Heaven, which is about a Chinese woman longing for her homeland, I seemed to connect better.  While I am not a Chinese woman nor longing for my homeland, I fell in love with the lull of the lines and  the softness of her words.  Hopefully, I was able to convey that in my performance.  I will be going to the state competition in mid-March, and I’m just crossing my fingers that I’ll be able to do something different with my poems, and hoping to place.  Last year, the Vermont winner placed 2nd at nationals, which is incredible.  It’ll be hard to compete with that.

I’d say it was a good week, in general, but I’m just anxious for break.  Next week is the Cabaret, and all that would make me happy would be to see some familiar smiling faces out in the audience, so please do come!  It will be Thursday at 7pm at SBHS—tickets at the door.  Over break, I’m visiting Princeton, and then flying out to the lovely land of Aruba.  It’s been a while since I’ve been on a beach vacation.  But for now, I should focus on just one more week.

Hope you all had a beautiful Valentine’s day with lots of flowers and chocolates and, most importantly, love!  Or if you’re anti-Valentine’s day, I hope you had a great Thursday.


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Hallelujah, Mother Nature has saved us yet again.  School has officially been cancelled for tomorrow thanks to Nemo (insert Finding Nemo references).  I am in this pristine state of mind.  I completed half of the tasks on my to-do list today.  I have some books collecting dust on my bedside table.  And best of all, Ted is on On Demand for Comcast.  I can already foresee what tomorrow will bring.  Unfortunately, with every good thing comes consequences.  Dessert Night, an annual music performance, has been cancelled for tomorrow night, and the state competition for Speech will most likely be cancelled.  So Nemo better be worth it.

I have resolved that I will go sledding this weekend.  It has been years since I’ve felt the rush of sliding down the hills of Rocky Ridge, and my numerous sleds have been shoved off in our storage room.  It seems that every year, I become less of a Vermonter.  Once upon a time I used to sled, downhill ski, snow-shoe, and cross-country ski, but these activities have been slowly replaced by Vivaldi and F. Scott Fitzgerald, and I don’t know what to make of this.  But deep inside, deep deep deep down, I have a profound love for Vermont—the way the snow glimmers before the sun sets, the way the air smells of wood stoves in the evening, the way the stars are crystal clear on chilly nights.  From the confines of my house, I have learned to love Vermont more with every year.  I should still start getting out more, though.

Hopefully wherever you are,  you have the opportunity to see a snowstorm as well!  Enjoy it because it won’t last for long.  And don’t be like me—get out and have fun!



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