Status: Friends only
I can’t believe I didn’t realize this before.
I’m an idiot. Sure, I could make excuses. I’ve been busy. I have a million things to do, I’m never home this semester, and I think I’m coming down with something. But what it all comes down to is that I haven’t been paying enough attention to one of the most important people in my life. And I’ve been making fun when I should have been listening.
I mentioned the part about Chelsea hanging out with Deena Markowitz all the time lately. How she’s lying about it and acting all secretive. But I haven’t mentioned how she’s staying out late, going to all kinds of extracurricular “study sessions,” leaving early for school—but her grades are going down and more than one teacher has emailed Mom about attendance issues. Chelsea’s old friends aren’t calling or coming over like they used to—I almost never hear from them lately—and Chelsea seems really sad half the time. Really happy the other half, but she never seems totally, completely her old self.
I can’t believe she didn’t come to me. My little sister is gay, and she feels like she needs to hide it. From me! She should know she can trust me with stuff like this.
I put the pieces together a few hours ago, while I was in the library, so right away I checked out a few books to help me figure out how to talk to her about this. I just emailed the costume director and bailed for tonight so I can go straight home and talk to Chelsea. I need to decide exactly what to say, so it won’t sound like I’m confronting her. Why, why couldn’t she just tell me why she was spending so much time with Deena? Why does she feel like she needs to isolate herself?
I am the best big sis in the world. I have a trophy made out of modeling clay that says so. It’s time for me to prove that I deserve it. Wish me luck!
(Read the reaction.)
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Inbox: article in this week's paper
From: Amy Miller
To: [4th grade class list]
Subject: article in this week’s paper
Hi everybody,
It’s been a while since anyone’s done something that I thought you guys would be interested in seeing. After the big 10th anniversary commemoration last year I know I was glad that the media’s been quiet for a while. (I only heard from Brook, but I’m sure she’s not the only one who decided to spend that whole day in bed with a few paperbacks. I wish I could have done the same!) But with my book coming out in two months, a local reporter wanted to get the scoop early and put together this article about me. I won’t send anything else along until after the book shows up in stores, but I thought you might be interested. It’s a quick read.
Be safe, be happy,
Amy/Mrs. Miller
Almost eleven years have passed since the day that Amy Miller, then a teacher in a private Midtown Manhattan elementary school, risked her life to save her fourth grade class from minions of the Fireshield Maestro during the infamous two-week siege of New York City.
At the time of the siege, Mrs. Miller was in her mid-twenties, married, newly graduated from Teachers College and—though she didn’t know it yet—pregnant with her first child. She had only just become accustomed to the rhythm of the school week as a full-time teacher on the Tuesday morning when flames erupted across the surface of the East River and the Hudson, and all electrical devices in the city began to malfunction.
The story of Mrs. Miller’s bravery on that day soon appeared in dozens of periodicals, not to mention at least two documentaries and a made-for-TV movie. She has received a presidential commendation, and an America’s Finest award from the city of New York.
In the days after the Fireshield Siege, Mrs. Miller became a household name as newscasters scrambled to find heartwarming and positive news pieces to share alongside the death tolls and catalogues of destruction. She made front pages again three weeks later when hers was one of the first classes to resume instruction, meeting in a student’s family’s penthouse living room and gearing much of their discussions and projects toward ways that they could help with the rebuilding effort.
Despite the bravery, two years later Mrs. Miller was diagnosed with PTSD and left the city with her husband and son, moving to Millburn NJ. For the next few years, Mrs. Miller worked part time as a public school librarian and laid low, barely interacting with anyone outside of her family. She almost never went back to Manhattan.
“It was my hermit time,” Mrs. Miller says of those years. “I had worked so hard after the Fireshield Siege to help others that I didn’t even realize how in need of healing I was. The wounds were buried deep, but sooner or later it was inevitable that the pain would resurface.”
Mrs. Miller credits her husband, her parents and in-laws and her two sons for helping her eventually pass “the dark places” in her life and “step back into the sunlight.” Now a high school English teacher, she has also written an account of her personal struggles called After the Siege.
“I think it tells the story that so many of us experience, after our own traumatic times,” Mrs. Miller said. She was perched on a stool in her yellow-tiled kitchen at the time, drinking tea from an oversized mug. Her brown hair is long, prematurely gray, but she wears the streaks of white like a badge of honor, a testament to all that she has seen and done. “I want my readers to know that there is hope, that there’s a beautiful world for them, just waiting for them to be ready to see it again. I had my boys to do that for me—I hope After the Siege can help to fill that role for others.”
After the Siege will be released on Thanksgiving. We can all look forward to sharing the gratitude that Mrs. Miller feels with the world around her.
(Continue to Brook's revelation.)
To: [4th grade class list]
Subject: article in this week’s paper
Hi everybody,
It’s been a while since anyone’s done something that I thought you guys would be interested in seeing. After the big 10th anniversary commemoration last year I know I was glad that the media’s been quiet for a while. (I only heard from Brook, but I’m sure she’s not the only one who decided to spend that whole day in bed with a few paperbacks. I wish I could have done the same!) But with my book coming out in two months, a local reporter wanted to get the scoop early and put together this article about me. I won’t send anything else along until after the book shows up in stores, but I thought you might be interested. It’s a quick read.
Be safe, be happy,
Amy/Mrs. Miller
Almost eleven years have passed since the day that Amy Miller, then a teacher in a private Midtown Manhattan elementary school, risked her life to save her fourth grade class from minions of the Fireshield Maestro during the infamous two-week siege of New York City.
At the time of the siege, Mrs. Miller was in her mid-twenties, married, newly graduated from Teachers College and—though she didn’t know it yet—pregnant with her first child. She had only just become accustomed to the rhythm of the school week as a full-time teacher on the Tuesday morning when flames erupted across the surface of the East River and the Hudson, and all electrical devices in the city began to malfunction.
The story of Mrs. Miller’s bravery on that day soon appeared in dozens of periodicals, not to mention at least two documentaries and a made-for-TV movie. She has received a presidential commendation, and an America’s Finest award from the city of New York.
In the days after the Fireshield Siege, Mrs. Miller became a household name as newscasters scrambled to find heartwarming and positive news pieces to share alongside the death tolls and catalogues of destruction. She made front pages again three weeks later when hers was one of the first classes to resume instruction, meeting in a student’s family’s penthouse living room and gearing much of their discussions and projects toward ways that they could help with the rebuilding effort.
Despite the bravery, two years later Mrs. Miller was diagnosed with PTSD and left the city with her husband and son, moving to Millburn NJ. For the next few years, Mrs. Miller worked part time as a public school librarian and laid low, barely interacting with anyone outside of her family. She almost never went back to Manhattan.
“It was my hermit time,” Mrs. Miller says of those years. “I had worked so hard after the Fireshield Siege to help others that I didn’t even realize how in need of healing I was. The wounds were buried deep, but sooner or later it was inevitable that the pain would resurface.”
Mrs. Miller credits her husband, her parents and in-laws and her two sons for helping her eventually pass “the dark places” in her life and “step back into the sunlight.” Now a high school English teacher, she has also written an account of her personal struggles called After the Siege.
“I think it tells the story that so many of us experience, after our own traumatic times,” Mrs. Miller said. She was perched on a stool in her yellow-tiled kitchen at the time, drinking tea from an oversized mug. Her brown hair is long, prematurely gray, but she wears the streaks of white like a badge of honor, a testament to all that she has seen and done. “I want my readers to know that there is hope, that there’s a beautiful world for them, just waiting for them to be ready to see it again. I had my boys to do that for me—I hope After the Siege can help to fill that role for others.”
After the Siege will be released on Thanksgiving. We can all look forward to sharing the gratitude that Mrs. Miller feels with the world around her.
(Continue to Brook's revelation.)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Chat
katidid714: I want info on your status message.
babblingbrook: aren’t you in class right now?
katidid714: I’m taking notes on my computer. who was he? spill!
babblingbrook: I don’t feel proud admitting it, but I don’t actually know his name.
katidid714: OMG! you went to 1st base with a supe‼!
babblingbrook: shut up! no I didn’t.
babblingbrook: he’s just this guy I met at the bar.
katidid714: you mean the bar where you do your people-watching? I thought that was just innocent fun.
babblingbrook: generally, yeah! and this was pretty innocent really. and definitely fun.
katidid714: it’s not innocent if no names are exchanged.
babblingbrook: does it sound better if I say that he *does* know *my* name?
katidid714: I WANT DETAILS! c’mon Brook, start at the beginning. how did you meet? What does he look like?
babblingbrook: I was at the bar, sketching up some mock-ups for the fairy court, and I notice him sitting across the way because he’s wearing this shirt that’s halfway between formal dress and Renaissance/pirate shirt, but it kind of worked for him. and also, he was staring at me.
katidid714: figures, you notice the fashion first and *then* the creepy factor.
babblingbrook: it wasn’t creepy! or if it was I didn’t really notice, because omg his eyes!
katidid714: let me guess. 2 of them?
babblingbrook: ironic LOL. they were these deep, dark, amazing eyes…
katidid714: this is starting to sound like the erotic novels you make fun of me for reading.
babblingbrook: the same eyes that – hey, it wasn’t like that! (yet. ;-)) I was going to say that the only other person I’ve ever met with eyes that dark is Darcy, so I noticed them.
katidid714: ah, so cute guy reminds you of the boss you have a crush on. I get it. go on.
babblingbrook: god, you’re even worse about Darcy than Ira is about that idiot Soapstone. can you 2 just give it a rest?
katidid714: back to the story! dark, gorgeous eyes, pirate shirt. what else?
babblingbrook: dark skin, maybe a tan IDK, black hair a little on the longish side but not gross-long, v defined features, long lashes, pretty lips. Voice like liquid sex.
katidid714: how does that work?
babblingbrook: it just does. and it’s *fabulous.*
katidid714: does this TDH come talk to you, or do you approach him? (or do the two of you just make meaningful eye contact and run off to the alley together?)
babblingbrook: TDH?
katidid714: Tall Dark and Handsome.
babblingbrook: ah. he comes up to me. sits in the seat beside me and looks at my sketches. says something charming and clever.
katidid714: what?
babblingbrook: I can’t really remember. we talked. definitely flirted. he was really intense. we talked costumes, then accessories, then jewelry…
babblingbrook: then he leans over, like he’s going to kiss me, and my breath hitches, only it turns out that he’s trying to get a better look at the glowstone pendant I’m wearing.
katidid714: LOL! but so you are actually wearing it.
babblingbrook: Darcy really likes it (not 1 word!) and as a surprise she had her jeweler add a couple of little flecks of glowstone around the edges in a way that really sets off the original stone. we haven’t hung out in a while, have we? I’ll show it to you the next time we get together.
katidid714: so far, TDH is all like “ooh, your jewelry is sexy, and let’s talk about shoes and I’m dressed as a pirate.” You’re lucky class was dismissed 5 minutes ago. I’m giggling like a maniac.
babblingbrook: you wouldn’t be if you had met him. this guy was sex on a stick.
katidid714: THEN KEEP GOING!
babblingbrook: you’re the one who keeps stopping the story. your fault.
babblingbrook: He picks up the necklace, and while he’s holding it I start to feel tingles all the way to my toes. He looks at it and smirks and says that it looks like rose quartz but he doesn’t think it really is. I don’t want to admit to a total stranger that I’m wearing some serious contraband, but he just cups it in his hands and stares at it for a really long time. Then he kisses it and says that the necklace is beautiful but nothing compared to the person wearing it.
katidid714: ooh la la!
babblingbrook: He let the pendant fall out of his hands, running the chain along his fingers while it went, and his hand moved up until it was against my neck (soft & warm), and he pulled me closer to him, and we kissed.
katidid714: right there in front of everyone?
babblingbrook: just the one kiss. I would have been fine doing more just then, but he chuckled and put some money down on the counter for my coke and kind of angled his chin like he was saying let’s get out of here.
katidid714: he chuckled?
babblingbrook: Again, shut up. I thought he’d take me to the door to the street, but he took me back thru the hallway, past the employees only sign to a little dark alcove, and he put his fingers under my chin and then he pressed his lips against mine—I know that sounds more like, yeah, your bodice-rippers than real life, but it felt that way too. So we kissed and I’ve never felt more like I’m going to start flying from a kiss than I did then. In. tense.
katidid714: wow. And then you didn’t get his number, or even his name?
babblingbrook: after a few minutes he took my hand and kissed my palm and said something and then he left before I could even remember to stop him.
babblingbrook: my mind was jelly.
katidid714: do you at least remember what he said?
babblingbrook: That part was weird.
katidid714: the rest wasn’t?
babblingbrook: he said something like, “what a clever little contrivance.” and then something about someone being creative. I don’t think he was talking to me, tho.
katidid714: … you do realize that TDH is also BSC, right?
babblingbrook: what, bat-sht crazy?
katidid714: good job.
babblingbrook: if that’s what crazy looks like, then send me to an asylum.
katidid714: I just might, if you do much more like this.
babblingbrook: ur sure a good friend, KT.
katidid714: Sorry, sorry. Listen, I’m late for my next class. (This was worth being late for!) let’s catch up really soon, k?
babblingbrook: Sure. give me a call.
(Continue with an update on Chelsea.)
babblingbrook: aren’t you in class right now?
katidid714: I’m taking notes on my computer. who was he? spill!
babblingbrook: I don’t feel proud admitting it, but I don’t actually know his name.
katidid714: OMG! you went to 1st base with a supe‼!
babblingbrook: shut up! no I didn’t.
babblingbrook: he’s just this guy I met at the bar.
katidid714: you mean the bar where you do your people-watching? I thought that was just innocent fun.
babblingbrook: generally, yeah! and this was pretty innocent really. and definitely fun.
katidid714: it’s not innocent if no names are exchanged.
babblingbrook: does it sound better if I say that he *does* know *my* name?
katidid714: I WANT DETAILS! c’mon Brook, start at the beginning. how did you meet? What does he look like?
babblingbrook: I was at the bar, sketching up some mock-ups for the fairy court, and I notice him sitting across the way because he’s wearing this shirt that’s halfway between formal dress and Renaissance/pirate shirt, but it kind of worked for him. and also, he was staring at me.
katidid714: figures, you notice the fashion first and *then* the creepy factor.
babblingbrook: it wasn’t creepy! or if it was I didn’t really notice, because omg his eyes!
katidid714: let me guess. 2 of them?
babblingbrook: ironic LOL. they were these deep, dark, amazing eyes…
katidid714: this is starting to sound like the erotic novels you make fun of me for reading.
babblingbrook: the same eyes that – hey, it wasn’t like that! (yet. ;-)) I was going to say that the only other person I’ve ever met with eyes that dark is Darcy, so I noticed them.
katidid714: ah, so cute guy reminds you of the boss you have a crush on. I get it. go on.
babblingbrook: god, you’re even worse about Darcy than Ira is about that idiot Soapstone. can you 2 just give it a rest?
katidid714: back to the story! dark, gorgeous eyes, pirate shirt. what else?
babblingbrook: dark skin, maybe a tan IDK, black hair a little on the longish side but not gross-long, v defined features, long lashes, pretty lips. Voice like liquid sex.
katidid714: how does that work?
babblingbrook: it just does. and it’s *fabulous.*
katidid714: does this TDH come talk to you, or do you approach him? (or do the two of you just make meaningful eye contact and run off to the alley together?)
babblingbrook: TDH?
katidid714: Tall Dark and Handsome.
babblingbrook: ah. he comes up to me. sits in the seat beside me and looks at my sketches. says something charming and clever.
katidid714: what?
babblingbrook: I can’t really remember. we talked. definitely flirted. he was really intense. we talked costumes, then accessories, then jewelry…
babblingbrook: then he leans over, like he’s going to kiss me, and my breath hitches, only it turns out that he’s trying to get a better look at the glowstone pendant I’m wearing.
katidid714: LOL! but so you are actually wearing it.
babblingbrook: Darcy really likes it (not 1 word!) and as a surprise she had her jeweler add a couple of little flecks of glowstone around the edges in a way that really sets off the original stone. we haven’t hung out in a while, have we? I’ll show it to you the next time we get together.
katidid714: so far, TDH is all like “ooh, your jewelry is sexy, and let’s talk about shoes and I’m dressed as a pirate.” You’re lucky class was dismissed 5 minutes ago. I’m giggling like a maniac.
babblingbrook: you wouldn’t be if you had met him. this guy was sex on a stick.
katidid714: THEN KEEP GOING!
babblingbrook: you’re the one who keeps stopping the story. your fault.
babblingbrook: He picks up the necklace, and while he’s holding it I start to feel tingles all the way to my toes. He looks at it and smirks and says that it looks like rose quartz but he doesn’t think it really is. I don’t want to admit to a total stranger that I’m wearing some serious contraband, but he just cups it in his hands and stares at it for a really long time. Then he kisses it and says that the necklace is beautiful but nothing compared to the person wearing it.
katidid714: ooh la la!
babblingbrook: He let the pendant fall out of his hands, running the chain along his fingers while it went, and his hand moved up until it was against my neck (soft & warm), and he pulled me closer to him, and we kissed.
katidid714: right there in front of everyone?
babblingbrook: just the one kiss. I would have been fine doing more just then, but he chuckled and put some money down on the counter for my coke and kind of angled his chin like he was saying let’s get out of here.
katidid714: he chuckled?
babblingbrook: Again, shut up. I thought he’d take me to the door to the street, but he took me back thru the hallway, past the employees only sign to a little dark alcove, and he put his fingers under my chin and then he pressed his lips against mine—I know that sounds more like, yeah, your bodice-rippers than real life, but it felt that way too. So we kissed and I’ve never felt more like I’m going to start flying from a kiss than I did then. In. tense.
katidid714: wow. And then you didn’t get his number, or even his name?
babblingbrook: after a few minutes he took my hand and kissed my palm and said something and then he left before I could even remember to stop him.
babblingbrook: my mind was jelly.
katidid714: do you at least remember what he said?
babblingbrook: That part was weird.
katidid714: the rest wasn’t?
babblingbrook: he said something like, “what a clever little contrivance.” and then something about someone being creative. I don’t think he was talking to me, tho.
katidid714: … you do realize that TDH is also BSC, right?
babblingbrook: what, bat-sht crazy?
katidid714: good job.
babblingbrook: if that’s what crazy looks like, then send me to an asylum.
katidid714: I just might, if you do much more like this.
babblingbrook: ur sure a good friend, KT.
katidid714: Sorry, sorry. Listen, I’m late for my next class. (This was worth being late for!) let’s catch up really soon, k?
babblingbrook: Sure. give me a call.
(Continue with an update on Chelsea.)
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Creeps in capes
Status: Public
Sorry about dropping off the face of the earth for a few days there. It’ll probably only get worse as this year goes on. Le sigh….
But you have got to hear about what happened yesterday night. I was leaving the theatre building pretty late, going to grab some coffee and check in with Ira (Ira, you stood me up!). And so maybe I was txting when I was crossing the street, but the pedestrian always has the right of way. The road was still kind of wet from the rain earlier.
I’m crossing the street, and this car didn’t see me and it’s screeching its brakes, and it’s not gonna stop in time, and this is sort of embarrassing but my mind just goes blank, like I can’t even think to get out of the way. (I guess that’s where the whole “deer in the headlights” thing comes from, right?)
Now I feel like an idiot thinking back, but the car was coming and I jump—not to the side, like a thinking person would do, but up into the air. But then something grabs me from behind, and the next thing I know I’m like twenty feet off the ground, all wrapped up in the arms of this guy in a mask.
Yeah, a supe. First I’m terrified, then I’m relieved and confused, and then he’s asking if I’m okay and I’m angry because he’s still holding me, like after the car’s driven away and everything’s fine. So I tell him to let me go and he does and he’s still asking me if I’m okay and I say yes just to shut him up.
He seems okay looking, decent enough body under the spandex (I hope these guys have warm winter outfits, too), even though I can’t see much because he has this bandana thing that covers his hair and the top half of his face, cheekbones up. Cute lips, though. And I didn’t realize these guys wear the school colors. How nerdy is that?
Mr. I’m-a-cool-superhero goes into public service announcement mode, telling me about the dangers of not being aware of traffic when I cross the street. Really. I tell him I’ll remember next time but I’m late to meet a friend. Then he wants me to fill out some sort of form, like an opinion survey thing (who comes up with this stuff?) and tells me his name is Softstone.
(Worst. Super. Name. EVER. Just saying.)
By now I’m more than ready for him to vanish into a flash of light or something, but he goes on to ask me my name, like we’re having a conversation or something. I tell him that if he’s not going to tell me his real name then I’m sure not going to tell him mine, either. So he asks for a fake name he can use and—this is almost as embarrassing as not getting out of the way of the car—I say Titania because I’ve been designing her wardrobe all week in costume crew.
So this guy Softstone seems to think this is funny, and I think he thought I was flirting with him or something—which I so wasn’t—and he asks me about what I do and what school I’m in so I lie and then I say thanks for rescuing me and all but I’ve got to go hang out with some people who let others see their faces now.
While I’m leaving he calls out behind me, “If you need any more rescuing call the super hotline anytime, day or night! Be sure to ask for me—Softstone!”
Did he think that we were inside a comic book? Who talks like that? I just hope he felt at least half as embarrassed afterward as I did.
10 comments
katidid714: Wow, you met Softstone? They say he’s the cutest of them all!
babblingbrook: Do “they” realize that he’s got a gold and maroon dewrag covering half his face?
katidid714: You should have flirted more. Asked for his number. Super hookups have got to be awesome!
babblingbrook: I wasn’t flirting. I was just trying to get the guy to leave me alone.
iRant: I think I’ll side with Katy. It sounds like you were flirting with Softstone. :-)
babblingbrook: You’re both fired.
iRant: You probably should fill out the form he gave you. The psychology dept is doing widespread studies on the effect of having the supers on campus, and they want as broad a view as possible. Plus, I heard there’s a friendly competition between all of the supers to see who can get the most positive reviews.
babblingbrook: What on earth makes you think I’m gonna give this guy a positive review?
iRant: It sounds like he saved your life, Brook.
babblingbrook: Details.
(Continue to Ira's email.)
Sorry about dropping off the face of the earth for a few days there. It’ll probably only get worse as this year goes on. Le sigh….
But you have got to hear about what happened yesterday night. I was leaving the theatre building pretty late, going to grab some coffee and check in with Ira (Ira, you stood me up!). And so maybe I was txting when I was crossing the street, but the pedestrian always has the right of way. The road was still kind of wet from the rain earlier.
I’m crossing the street, and this car didn’t see me and it’s screeching its brakes, and it’s not gonna stop in time, and this is sort of embarrassing but my mind just goes blank, like I can’t even think to get out of the way. (I guess that’s where the whole “deer in the headlights” thing comes from, right?)
Now I feel like an idiot thinking back, but the car was coming and I jump—not to the side, like a thinking person would do, but up into the air. But then something grabs me from behind, and the next thing I know I’m like twenty feet off the ground, all wrapped up in the arms of this guy in a mask.
Yeah, a supe. First I’m terrified, then I’m relieved and confused, and then he’s asking if I’m okay and I’m angry because he’s still holding me, like after the car’s driven away and everything’s fine. So I tell him to let me go and he does and he’s still asking me if I’m okay and I say yes just to shut him up.
He seems okay looking, decent enough body under the spandex (I hope these guys have warm winter outfits, too), even though I can’t see much because he has this bandana thing that covers his hair and the top half of his face, cheekbones up. Cute lips, though. And I didn’t realize these guys wear the school colors. How nerdy is that?
Mr. I’m-a-cool-superhero goes into public service announcement mode, telling me about the dangers of not being aware of traffic when I cross the street. Really. I tell him I’ll remember next time but I’m late to meet a friend. Then he wants me to fill out some sort of form, like an opinion survey thing (who comes up with this stuff?) and tells me his name is Softstone.
(Worst. Super. Name. EVER. Just saying.)
By now I’m more than ready for him to vanish into a flash of light or something, but he goes on to ask me my name, like we’re having a conversation or something. I tell him that if he’s not going to tell me his real name then I’m sure not going to tell him mine, either. So he asks for a fake name he can use and—this is almost as embarrassing as not getting out of the way of the car—I say Titania because I’ve been designing her wardrobe all week in costume crew.
So this guy Softstone seems to think this is funny, and I think he thought I was flirting with him or something—which I so wasn’t—and he asks me about what I do and what school I’m in so I lie and then I say thanks for rescuing me and all but I’ve got to go hang out with some people who let others see their faces now.
While I’m leaving he calls out behind me, “If you need any more rescuing call the super hotline anytime, day or night! Be sure to ask for me—Softstone!”
Did he think that we were inside a comic book? Who talks like that? I just hope he felt at least half as embarrassed afterward as I did.
10 comments
katidid714: Wow, you met Softstone? They say he’s the cutest of them all!
babblingbrook: Do “they” realize that he’s got a gold and maroon dewrag covering half his face?katidid714: You should have flirted more. Asked for his number. Super hookups have got to be awesome!babblingbrook: I wasn’t flirting. I was just trying to get the guy to leave me alone.
iRant: I think I’ll side with Katy. It sounds like you were flirting with Softstone. :-)babblingbrook: You’re both fired.iRant: You probably should fill out the form he gave you. The psychology dept is doing widespread studies on the effect of having the supers on campus, and they want as broad a view as possible. Plus, I heard there’s a friendly competition between all of the supers to see who can get the most positive reviews.babblingbrook: What on earth makes you think I’m gonna give this guy a positive review?iRant: It sounds like he saved your life, Brook.babblingbrook: Details.(Continue to Ira's email.)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
And the winner is….
Status: Public
Can I tell you how freaking awesome my internship is? Thursday was my first full day that wasn’t orientation, and Darcy—my boss—took me out to lunch at this totally posh French place. I think I’m high from fresh steamed mussels and the best soup à l’oniogn this side of the Mississippi.
Lunch was very casual—very girls’ time, cuz she thought we should get to know each other. She is—wow. I don’t know how one person can do all the stuff she does. She’s the senior VP and her parents own ReginaPro, but they’re practically retired so she makes all the big decisions even though she can’t be a day over thirty. (I don’t really know how old she is—lunch wasn’t that casual!) The company has been taking off in the last couple years, since she got in charge, and she handles everything so gracefully. (So there was a little bit of ugliness when the cook messed up her order, but you just have to look at her to know she has really high standards.) She also just moved to the Minneapolis branch, so she’s still getting to know the area.
Besides being in charge of RP she’s also planning a wedding in December—obviously a huge, high-society thing with a red-carpet guest list—and she’s such a perfectionist that she’s doing the planning herself. I wonder if she ever sleeps.
Darcy was really interested in Dad’s trip to Antarctica, and I’m glad I paid attention to what he said about it because I sure would have felt stupid if I didn’t know the answers to any of her questions. Even with my paying attention there were still plenty of things she wanted to know about that I couldn’t answer—like exactly where they were digging, and how big the biggest glowstones were, or why they stopped and left. (That was funny, because she didn’t act like it was all that weird that they lost interest and just left the site, but she was really curious what reason they gave for leaving afterward. Confusing.)
We were having such a great talk that I momentarily lost all sanity and told her about my birthday present from Dad. (For those I haven’t told—he sent me a glowstone necklace, but with the glowstone dyed pink to get past, you know, international law.) I wished I could take it back at first, but Darcy was really really interested, and asked me all about it. She said she knew an underground collector, and she’s super curious about glowstone science, so could I bring it in some time and let her take it to get looked at? She said she was fascinated with the new Antarctic quarry, and let’s just say it was pretty obvious that this would be a great way to earn serious brownie points. So I’ll bring it in on Monday when I go. I haven’t worn it since I got it because I’m a very mild sensitive and after a while it gives me a quiet ringing in my ears—annoying and sort of creepy. But! I get to show it off!
8 comments
iRant: Mild sensitive, huh? You do know that there’s a correlation between sensitives and supers, right?
babblingbrook: Unproven anecdotal correlation. And I hardly think there are any mild supers in my family.
iRant: You should read the latest issue of Super America, Brook. There’s an article from an anonymous member of the NSC who analyzed classified documents to prove the link. Since most supers opt for ID protection, regular academic channels have no way to accurately judge the proportions of supers to sensitives within families, but the link is very real.
katidid714: Wow, Ira—Super America? I hadn’t realized that you were a Supe fanboy.
iRant: I read it for a class. And it’s a useful piece of info for annoying Brook.
babblingbrook: So maybe I’m not really a mild sensitive. Mom’s probably right—it’s all in my head. I’ll have to talk myself out of it—esp. if Darcy likes the necklace. I’ll want to start wearing it, then.
katidid714: Do you and Darcy need to get a room?
babblingbrook: We have one. Her fabulous office overlooking all of South Minneapolis. Jealous?
(Continue to status updates.)
Can I tell you how freaking awesome my internship is? Thursday was my first full day that wasn’t orientation, and Darcy—my boss—took me out to lunch at this totally posh French place. I think I’m high from fresh steamed mussels and the best soup à l’oniogn this side of the Mississippi.
Lunch was very casual—very girls’ time, cuz she thought we should get to know each other. She is—wow. I don’t know how one person can do all the stuff she does. She’s the senior VP and her parents own ReginaPro, but they’re practically retired so she makes all the big decisions even though she can’t be a day over thirty. (I don’t really know how old she is—lunch wasn’t that casual!) The company has been taking off in the last couple years, since she got in charge, and she handles everything so gracefully. (So there was a little bit of ugliness when the cook messed up her order, but you just have to look at her to know she has really high standards.) She also just moved to the Minneapolis branch, so she’s still getting to know the area.
Besides being in charge of RP she’s also planning a wedding in December—obviously a huge, high-society thing with a red-carpet guest list—and she’s such a perfectionist that she’s doing the planning herself. I wonder if she ever sleeps.
Darcy was really interested in Dad’s trip to Antarctica, and I’m glad I paid attention to what he said about it because I sure would have felt stupid if I didn’t know the answers to any of her questions. Even with my paying attention there were still plenty of things she wanted to know about that I couldn’t answer—like exactly where they were digging, and how big the biggest glowstones were, or why they stopped and left. (That was funny, because she didn’t act like it was all that weird that they lost interest and just left the site, but she was really curious what reason they gave for leaving afterward. Confusing.)
We were having such a great talk that I momentarily lost all sanity and told her about my birthday present from Dad. (For those I haven’t told—he sent me a glowstone necklace, but with the glowstone dyed pink to get past, you know, international law.) I wished I could take it back at first, but Darcy was really really interested, and asked me all about it. She said she knew an underground collector, and she’s super curious about glowstone science, so could I bring it in some time and let her take it to get looked at? She said she was fascinated with the new Antarctic quarry, and let’s just say it was pretty obvious that this would be a great way to earn serious brownie points. So I’ll bring it in on Monday when I go. I haven’t worn it since I got it because I’m a very mild sensitive and after a while it gives me a quiet ringing in my ears—annoying and sort of creepy. But! I get to show it off!
8 comments
iRant: Mild sensitive, huh? You do know that there’s a correlation between sensitives and supers, right?
babblingbrook: Unproven anecdotal correlation. And I hardly think there are any mild supers in my family.iRant: You should read the latest issue of Super America, Brook. There’s an article from an anonymous member of the NSC who analyzed classified documents to prove the link. Since most supers opt for ID protection, regular academic channels have no way to accurately judge the proportions of supers to sensitives within families, but the link is very real.
katidid714: Wow, Ira—Super America? I hadn’t realized that you were a Supe fanboy.iRant: I read it for a class. And it’s a useful piece of info for annoying Brook.babblingbrook: So maybe I’m not really a mild sensitive. Mom’s probably right—it’s all in my head. I’ll have to talk myself out of it—esp. if Darcy likes the necklace. I’ll want to start wearing it, then.katidid714: Do you and Darcy need to get a room?babblingbrook: We have one. Her fabulous office overlooking all of South Minneapolis. Jealous?(Continue to status updates.)
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Outbox: B-day, etc.
From: Brook Haupenstaat
To: Henri Haupenstaat
Subject: B-day, etc.
Hey Dad,
Wow, thanks for the birthday gift. It sure was a surprise—and talk about original. You’ll have to tell me how the jeweler managed to stain it pink—I didn’t realize there was any way to make them change colors.
The first week of school was good. I have a really exciting internship—I’ll tell you all about it when you call—and a full load of classes. I’m on the costume crew for the fall play, too. I didn’t try for costume director because I figured that would be enough to push me over the edge and literally bury me in work (and sequins, and feathers).
Have you heard that we now have a gang of supers “protecting” campus? They were all introduced at a pep rally Monday night before school started. I didn’t go, and it sounds like I’m just about the only one who didn’t. Everyone around school is talking about super-sightings like there’s nothing else worthwhile going on in the whole city.
So how are you doing? What are you working on next? The pictures from the glowstone article were fabulous—great manipulation of light in a place with no sunshine.
I hope we hear from you soon.
Take care,
Brook
(Read the article here.)
To: Henri Haupenstaat
Subject: B-day, etc.
Hey Dad,
Wow, thanks for the birthday gift. It sure was a surprise—and talk about original. You’ll have to tell me how the jeweler managed to stain it pink—I didn’t realize there was any way to make them change colors.
The first week of school was good. I have a really exciting internship—I’ll tell you all about it when you call—and a full load of classes. I’m on the costume crew for the fall play, too. I didn’t try for costume director because I figured that would be enough to push me over the edge and literally bury me in work (and sequins, and feathers).
Have you heard that we now have a gang of supers “protecting” campus? They were all introduced at a pep rally Monday night before school started. I didn’t go, and it sounds like I’m just about the only one who didn’t. Everyone around school is talking about super-sightings like there’s nothing else worthwhile going on in the whole city.
So how are you doing? What are you working on next? The pictures from the glowstone article were fabulous—great manipulation of light in a place with no sunshine.
I hope we hear from you soon.
Take care,
Brook
(Read the article here.)
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Internship of champions
Status: Friends only
Because so many of you got some sort of screaming, squealing contact from me yesterday, it’s about time I give you more information.
Some time this past year, ReginaPro Marketing (they did the “If cookies ruled the world” commercials, and the “Minnesota good” campaign downtown) asked the U if they would be able to supply about a dozen high-quality interns to work about 10-15 hours a week this school year. I applied and got one of the positions, but then last week I heard from HR that I was one of three interns being considered as a personal assistant to Darcy Ages, the senior VP.
Mom told me that I should write to Ms Ages right away to tell her why I was the best choice for the job, and then right before LDW I was scrambling to schedule a physical and request a background check because her standards are high. There were questions like my great grandparents’ full names and Mom’s last five jobs (she could hardly remember what she was doing before she started working for Granddad at Haupenstaat Financial), not to mention they took like five vials of blood and made me run on a treadmill so they could listen to my active heart rate. (Seriously, what is she expecting me to do for her? Snorkel into Burma and run an ad campaign for the opposition government?)
I’m still not sure what the job will look like, and there’s a good chance I’ll just be getting her coffee and learning by osmosis, but even that would be really cool.
I only saw Ms Ages for a few seconds during the general orientation yesterday, though she did pull me aside and congratulate me on getting the job as her assistant. She’s beautiful and elegant and seems—not exactly nice, but really professional.
I’ll do my best to keep up with posting and hanging out, but if I do drop off the face of the planet in the next few months it’s nothing personal—I’ll just be going crazy with work and school.
(Continue to the thank you note.)
Because so many of you got some sort of screaming, squealing contact from me yesterday, it’s about time I give you more information.
Some time this past year, ReginaPro Marketing (they did the “If cookies ruled the world” commercials, and the “Minnesota good” campaign downtown) asked the U if they would be able to supply about a dozen high-quality interns to work about 10-15 hours a week this school year. I applied and got one of the positions, but then last week I heard from HR that I was one of three interns being considered as a personal assistant to Darcy Ages, the senior VP.
Mom told me that I should write to Ms Ages right away to tell her why I was the best choice for the job, and then right before LDW I was scrambling to schedule a physical and request a background check because her standards are high. There were questions like my great grandparents’ full names and Mom’s last five jobs (she could hardly remember what she was doing before she started working for Granddad at Haupenstaat Financial), not to mention they took like five vials of blood and made me run on a treadmill so they could listen to my active heart rate. (Seriously, what is she expecting me to do for her? Snorkel into Burma and run an ad campaign for the opposition government?)
I’m still not sure what the job will look like, and there’s a good chance I’ll just be getting her coffee and learning by osmosis, but even that would be really cool.
I only saw Ms Ages for a few seconds during the general orientation yesterday, though she did pull me aside and congratulate me on getting the job as her assistant. She’s beautiful and elegant and seems—not exactly nice, but really professional.
I’ll do my best to keep up with posting and hanging out, but if I do drop off the face of the planet in the next few months it’s nothing personal—I’ll just be going crazy with work and school.
(Continue to the thank you note.)
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Crazyland update
Status: Friends only
That’s it. The world’s going bonkers. Supers on campus, and I’m pretty sure my sister’s been replaced by an alien clone. Or her brain’s been eaten. I mean, the only other option is that she’s matured out of high school drama, but that’s just silly. There are plenty of adults out there who still care about high school fallouts, and it’s not like Chelsea’s suddenly acting grown-up.
No, she’s just acting like a crazy person.
Remember when I said before she came back from her retreat acting all buddy-buddy with Deena Markowitz? So yesterday I go out for a while, come back a little earlier than I expected, open the garage door and there’s this strange car parked inside.
Kitchen’s empty. Living room’s empty. Mom’s not home. I go to Chelsea’s room and what do I find? Chelsea and Deena, reading Cosmos on Chelsea’s bed.
And it wasn’t a “we’ve been sitting here for hours, and we’re totally engrossed in the sex quizzes” kind of reading. I had the distinct feeling that the magazines were props and they had been doing something else just a few seconds before I came in. (Planning an all-school social takeover? They could, if they’re combining forces.)
They both looked kind of guilty and nervous, so I left them alone. I asked Chelsea about it later, and she said they had been paired up for a summer reading project. Right.
I went along with it for now, so she wouldn’t know that I know that something’s up, but I am going to get to the bottom of this.
How pathetic is it that I’m obsessing over my sister’s social circle like this? Very. Very very pathetic and sad. But what else am I going to do to entertain myself with nothing scheduled for the week except getting ready for next week’s classes?
9 comments
iRant: Want to help me unload boxes? It’s gotta be a healthier activity.
babblingbrook: pass.
katidid714: You’re fine for now. If you try to go undercover at Heatherclear though, I’m arranging an intervention.
babblingbrook: I think my old uniform might still fit…. I’d need an accomplice, though.
katidid714: LOL! I’ll lend my plaid skirt to the cause if you can convince Ira to go with you!
iRant: Leave me out of this.
katidid714: It would be hard to find saddle oxfords in your size, anyway. Unless you own a pair…?
iRant: *fingers in ears* La la la la! I can’t hear you!
babblingbrook: This just in. Guess where Chelsea’s spending LDW? Deena’s family’s cabin!
(Continue to Darcy Ages's response.)
That’s it. The world’s going bonkers. Supers on campus, and I’m pretty sure my sister’s been replaced by an alien clone. Or her brain’s been eaten. I mean, the only other option is that she’s matured out of high school drama, but that’s just silly. There are plenty of adults out there who still care about high school fallouts, and it’s not like Chelsea’s suddenly acting grown-up.
No, she’s just acting like a crazy person.
Remember when I said before she came back from her retreat acting all buddy-buddy with Deena Markowitz? So yesterday I go out for a while, come back a little earlier than I expected, open the garage door and there’s this strange car parked inside.
Kitchen’s empty. Living room’s empty. Mom’s not home. I go to Chelsea’s room and what do I find? Chelsea and Deena, reading Cosmos on Chelsea’s bed.
And it wasn’t a “we’ve been sitting here for hours, and we’re totally engrossed in the sex quizzes” kind of reading. I had the distinct feeling that the magazines were props and they had been doing something else just a few seconds before I came in. (Planning an all-school social takeover? They could, if they’re combining forces.)
They both looked kind of guilty and nervous, so I left them alone. I asked Chelsea about it later, and she said they had been paired up for a summer reading project. Right.
I went along with it for now, so she wouldn’t know that I know that something’s up, but I am going to get to the bottom of this.
How pathetic is it that I’m obsessing over my sister’s social circle like this? Very. Very very pathetic and sad. But what else am I going to do to entertain myself with nothing scheduled for the week except getting ready for next week’s classes?
9 comments
iRant: Want to help me unload boxes? It’s gotta be a healthier activity.
babblingbrook: pass.
katidid714: You’re fine for now. If you try to go undercover at Heatherclear though, I’m arranging an intervention.babblingbrook: I think my old uniform might still fit…. I’d need an accomplice, though.katidid714: LOL! I’ll lend my plaid skirt to the cause if you can convince Ira to go with you!iRant: Leave me out of this.katidid714: It would be hard to find saddle oxfords in your size, anyway. Unless you own a pair…?iRant: *fingers in ears* La la la la! I can’t hear you!babblingbrook: This just in. Guess where Chelsea’s spending LDW? Deena’s family’s cabin!(Continue to Darcy Ages's response.)
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
League of Butt-kiss
Status: Public
Ug. Ugggg!
If you’ve been at the U lately, and you saw all the fliers about the new “safety assurances” on campus this fall, and if you then didn’t tell me—
Thank you for letting me at least enjoy my summer.
For those of you who, like me, have been living under a rock all summer (I’ve been at the MMA 40 hours a week and taking three online courses—what’s your excuse?), apparently we’re having a half dozen boys in tights to help, ahem, “improve” campus security.
This is such BS. If I had wanted to go to school somewhere where freaks in capes swooped down at every mugging or jaywalking, I would have said yes to NYU and asked Granddad to pull some strings and get me in a part-time job at Christy’s or something.
Here’s some of the info, in case you were curious.
There goes the neighborhood.
7 comments
chelseamorning: :-( but even if it weren’t for ny’s problems with the supers, you wouldn’t have gone back there. not unless you got a legal name change first.
babblingbrook: When I sent the applications to NYU I did a pretty good job of making sure that my full first name showed up NOWHERE. (Which, btw, in no way exonerates Mom from agreeing to the dumbest baby name on the UES. And don’t try to steal my thunder. No one ever hears your name and automatically assumes you’re named for a place.)
chelseamorning: they do, as soon as they hear that my sister’s name is brooklyn, thank you very much. but good call, staying in a part of the country where people think it’s cool instead of pathetic.
babblingbrook: At least I’m a borough of talented artists and not some overpriced pretentious neighborhood.
chelseamorning: yeah, but i have better restaurants.
babblingbrook: Touché. You must be feeling better. You’re sounding more like yourself than you have all this week.
iRant: This is because of the Fireshield Siege? C’mon Brook, no good Midwestern super is going to turn rogue and try to take over Minneapolis. Not a chance. Even if they could get past their Minnesota-nice programming, the NSC raised their standards so high after the FS that that if Barack Obama woke up tomorrow with laser vision even he would have to go through the same six months of tests and evaluations that every super has to take before they’re registered. The process is rock solid. And all these guys are registered, so there’s nothing to worry about.
babblingbrook: How’s that Kool-Aid taste, Ira?
(Click to view what else Brook has been writing.)
Ug. Ugggg!
If you’ve been at the U lately, and you saw all the fliers about the new “safety assurances” on campus this fall, and if you then didn’t tell me—
Thank you for letting me at least enjoy my summer.
For those of you who, like me, have been living under a rock all summer (I’ve been at the MMA 40 hours a week and taking three online courses—what’s your excuse?), apparently we’re having a half dozen boys in tights to help, ahem, “improve” campus security.
This is such BS. If I had wanted to go to school somewhere where freaks in capes swooped down at every mugging or jaywalking, I would have said yes to NYU and asked Granddad to pull some strings and get me in a part-time job at Christy’s or something.
Here’s some of the info, in case you were curious.
None of the protectors in the new security plan wanted to say much about their particular talents, citing a desire to keep the criminal element in the dark. They have all provided proof, however, of proper registration with the National Super Commission, with full marks on all required ethical standard examinations.
They were willing to state that four of the six of them are Minnesota born and bred, with the other two also haling from the Midwest. All six were already associated with the U of M before taking on this new assignment, whether it be as faculty, alumni or current students.
So this September, keep your eyes open for our new protectors—and don’t be afraid to say “hi!”
There goes the neighborhood.
7 comments
chelseamorning: :-( but even if it weren’t for ny’s problems with the supers, you wouldn’t have gone back there. not unless you got a legal name change first.
babblingbrook: When I sent the applications to NYU I did a pretty good job of making sure that my full first name showed up NOWHERE. (Which, btw, in no way exonerates Mom from agreeing to the dumbest baby name on the UES. And don’t try to steal my thunder. No one ever hears your name and automatically assumes you’re named for a place.)chelseamorning: they do, as soon as they hear that my sister’s name is brooklyn, thank you very much. but good call, staying in a part of the country where people think it’s cool instead of pathetic.babblingbrook: At least I’m a borough of talented artists and not some overpriced pretentious neighborhood.chelseamorning: yeah, but i have better restaurants.babblingbrook: Touché. You must be feeling better. You’re sounding more like yourself than you have all this week.
iRant: This is because of the Fireshield Siege? C’mon Brook, no good Midwestern super is going to turn rogue and try to take over Minneapolis. Not a chance. Even if they could get past their Minnesota-nice programming, the NSC raised their standards so high after the FS that that if Barack Obama woke up tomorrow with laser vision even he would have to go through the same six months of tests and evaluations that every super has to take before they’re registered. The process is rock solid. And all these guys are registered, so there’s nothing to worry about.babblingbrook: How’s that Kool-Aid taste, Ira?(Click to view what else Brook has been writing.)
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