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Sunday was fun. I went to High Table at Bryn Mawr and talked to the alum who is checking my resume before I put it in my grad school applications. She hasn't given me a corrected draft yet, but has already given me some tips - for instance, there are many things I can cut out (I figured on that, since I now have a real job to my name) and headings I can reduce or remove.
I also talked to my former anthropology professor, who agreed to write me a letter of recommendation and reminded me to look for grants. In the field I'm going into, grants are not really essential for a dissertation (since you don't need to travel, dig things up, etc.) unless you need money to buy a computer, and I already have that. However, I want to reduce the need for student loans as much as possible. I figure I can get at least some money because of my good grades in college, and, since I am a working adult (not coming straight out of college and on my family's dime), I may be able to wrangle some financial aid. I am also considering going to grad school part-time and working at least part-time. It means my studies will take longer but working while studying has its advantages, since I can get a foot in the door with a potential employer that way.
The rest of the day was devoted solely to entertainment. I got back into Philadelphia by midafternoon and went straight to Chinatown, where I was supposed to meet
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During that hanging-around period, I had a real Philadelphia experience. I was sitting on the steps outside a shop, reading a paperback.3 This guy came up to me and asked if I was Amish, or a Mennonite. Now, to be fair, I was wearing a black blouse and fairly simple calf-length skirt, scuffed and practical-looking black boots, and a coif on my hair. But I was also wearing a digital watch, jewelery, and striped black-and-yellow stockings. I was also reading a novel, in Chinatown, on a Sunday. Anyway...
I told this guy that I was not a Mennonite, but I supposed my clothing made me look a bit like one. He then asked if I was Christian and believed that Jesus was the son of God. I said no, I was Jewish, and we generally didn't believe that, although a few people did anyway. And no, I was not one of them. He then told me, very enthusiastically and in a thick accent, that Jesus was the true son of God and died for all our sins. He (the guy talking to me, not Jesus) said that he had come to this country from Ethiopia, and was very ill when he arrived. He had a near-death experience (my words, not his) in which "part of his soul came out"4 and it was revealed to him that Jesus was the son of God and the savior. He had seen it for himself and said that I should come to Christ too. I said I would do that if I ever saw Christ that way, but until then, I would stick with being Jewish. Then I excused myself and went to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet everyone, because it was about that time anyway. If I hadn't already been living in Philadelphia for a significant length of time, I would have been miffed and possibly scared, but I just found it to be a particularly amusing example of Philly's craziness.
Dinner at Penang, where I first met Rowan, was fun. We had some trouble with our dinner orders, in part because the staff tends to caution non-Asian guests regarding certain dishes because they are cooked with lots of oil, are phenomenally spicy, contain chicken's feet, etc. Another problem is that the acoustics in Penang tend to create a lot of clashing echoes and general white noise, and the waitstaff have accents, so it's hard to tell what they're saying. We did manage to sort it all out eventually and had an excellent dinner.
Getting to the concert was a bit complicated, because when we got in
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We did get to the Electric Factory well before the main act. The first opening singer was still performing. He was not that good, although the band that followed him was pretty good. They had - I am not making this up - a thrash fiddler, who jumped around the stage playing what looked like the fiddle equivalent of an electric guitar.
One of the other opening acts that also appeared periodically was not a band, but a young improv group called "The Whitest Kids U'Know." About half the time some members addressed the audience, and the other half was devoted to screenings of their various sketches. They apparently have their own show coming out soon on the Fuse channel. Their brand of humor generally ranges from sophomoric to shocking, although some of it is clever.
When Flogging Molly themselves came onstage, it brought the crowd to a fever pitch of excitement, and during the first song everyone in the pit rushed the stage. I got separated from the rest of my group and almost knocked over several times, because people were jumping around, rushing the stage and falling back, and even moshing. I was glad that I wore my boots, though they were uncomfortable to stand or walk in for a long time, because they may very well have saved my toes. When people started moshing in the middle of the audience,5
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As for the actual band, I hadn't really listened to Flogging Molly before. I liked it, or what I can hear of it. The problem is, in the Electric Factory, the speaker systems and acoustics emphasize volume more than clarity of sound. I could actually make out individual words and notes better with my fingers in my ears than I could otherwise. Oh, and I discovered that one's eardrums can go numb. This may not be a surprise to some of you, but it certainly was to me. All in all, though, I had a good time.
After the concert we went to Moriarty's in Center City and had cocktails.
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When I got home, I found that my roommate had put the chain in place on the door. I never did that, but she does so habitually. She must have thought I was either back home by then (a reasonable assumption, since I don't usually stay out late) or that I was staying over at someone else's house. I should have told her my plans. Trying to reach through the crack of the door and undo the chain resulted in my pulling a muscle and detaching the molding from the side of the door where the chain was anchored. So, well, I got into the apartment, but caused some damage that is technically my responsibility (although it means the molding was badly installed) that I don't have the money to fix right now. Fortunately it doesn't affect the functioning of the door or pose a danger, it just means the molding is loose, and I can quick-fix it with some glue. But I will have to tell my roommate not to use the chain again.
I also didn't sleep too well. It might have been because I had too much sugar that day, and some cheap nachos at the concert - I should have known better, and I bet it was the "cheese" that didn't agree with me - or because of the alcohol at an odd hour. But after a couple of hours I felt very cold and had some kind of crash that made me shake. And my stomach was upset. I'm okay now, though.7
Well, now that I'm back to regular life, I have something unpleasant to do. I have to e-mail or call my dad and disclose to him the full truth about my recent fight with mom. Which means telling him that I wouldn't feel comfortable going with the family to Florida for Thanksgiving. It doesn't mean I'm absolutely not going, just that some major and difficult issues must be resolved before I will go. Fortunately
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Wish me luck.
1I already like Rowan. She is an anthropology grad student at the University of Penn, and knows Janet Monge, a physical anthropologist who also taught part-time at Bryn Mawr for many years. We spent a while happily swapping crazy Janet stories, of which there are many. Rowan is also a Farscape fan and has a bit of a crush on Lani Tupu (Peacekeeper Captain Bialar Crais), which came as a great relief to me because I thought I was weird for finding him attractive. Since Rowan is relatively new to Philadelphia, I figure I should take her out to the Italian Market and South Street some time.
2I know, I made a post about it on Friday and said it was then. It was Sunday. Sorry.
3Mark Helprin's A Winter's Tale, a fantasy book that spent four months on the New York Times Bestseller List in the early '80s. It's like a Miyazaki movie, except a little more adult, in a book, and on LSD.
4From this statement,
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5The Electric Factory does not have a mosh pit as such, and their disclaimer says that neither they, the band nor the band's promoter encourages things like moshing and crowd surfing, although they do happen. They just advise people to exercise some common sense about it.
6Which was cut short because the STWing server - Penn's server for the CS major/geek dorm group - had an episode of some kind and
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7When I finally did get to sleep, I had a dream about being the new Nightwing in Batman Beyond, which was pretty cool. And a lucky dodge. I say this because last time I put that kind of stress on myself and ate things at odd hours - this was back in college - I had one of those nightmares where you wake up and then something really horrible or bizarre happens and then it resets and you wake up again...
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Date: 2006-10-09 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 03:52 pm (UTC)http://nightengalesknd.livejournal.com/38738.html
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Date: 2006-10-14 12:59 am (UTC)Hey, I'm up for it, just as soon as I get caught up on school work and get over the plague I seem to have contracted. :P
I could also use some volunteers to assist me in doing very strange things to my hair, now that I've bought the dye... ::smirk::
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Date: 2006-10-15 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-16 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-16 11:03 am (UTC)We will have to swap numbers and stuff. I guess I should ask
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Date: 2006-10-19 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-19 10:56 am (UTC)I have all sorts of little clips and hair ties (which I haven't used) that I can bring.
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Date: 2006-10-19 05:50 pm (UTC)You're going to come here? Gee, I was going to come to you, but if you want to come all the way out here, that works for me too!