I want to begin this letter with an apology. When we were first discussing the idea of maintaining an epistolary blog this year, my immediate reaction was to impose a timeline. It was my idea that we would each be obligated to write at least once a week, and more often if events encouraged it. However, I, so early in our exploits, have violated that. But I would like you to know that I have a very good reason for it.
As you may know, I have recently moved into my new apartment in Maine. The apartment itself is enormous, and much nicer than Alex's, (her words, not mine, although I certainly agree with the sentiment.) Of course this has been tremendous fun for all involved, and between cleaning the apartment and getting all of my preliminary dramaturgical work done for our first production, I have certainly had my hands full. But that's not why I haven't posted.
I didn't have the internet.
Actually, I still don't. I'm at a Starbucks right now. It's like I never left Seattle. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that during my first weekend in such a wonderful little city I'm choosing to sit in a chain coffee shop, but the first two cute, independent places I passed weren't open on Sunday and, as previously stated, I don't have any means of looking up where to go.
Still, there's something strangely comforting about spending time in a place that is such a tremendously known quantity. I know that if I go to Starbucks it may be the clinical definition of mediocre, but it is consistently and air-conditionedly mediocre. There are also chairs and wifi, and this morning that was really what I needed.
Up until now I've always considered myself to be one of the less internet-dependent members of my generation, but being without it for a week has shown me just how much I really do use it for. Since I don't own a smart phone, I use my computer to look up directions, which is especially relevant immediately after moving to a new city, since I don't even know how to get to the grocery store yet. My entire recipe book equivalent is a list of urls that lead me to various food blogs.
Perhaps most uncomfortable since beginning my new job is that I cannot do any internet research from my apartment, which means that I spend a lot more time planning ahead and looking up facts at work, and then doing more of the writing and editing around those facts at home.
I've also started getting the shakes and these massive pounding headaches in the evenings. It's not that I need the internet. If I could just get a taste, you know? Just one cute cat v
I'm not even making this up, but halfway through writing that sentence the Starbucks I'm in lost internet. This is getting real, y'all.
Okay, I managed to connect to the wifi that is inexplicably supplied to the park across the street. A field of uninhabited grass has internet and I don't. I'm lower on the technological totem pole than a ground covering. But the joke's on it because grass can't own a laptop. Suck it, empty park.
I may have a problem.
Major props go to my roommate, Julianne, who's been letting me borrow her phone in the evenings to check my email and look stuff up.
Speaking of Julianne, the time has come for me to revisit that list of good roommate criteria I made all those weeks ago.
In case you forgot, this was the list:
1. You have a netflix account.
2. You'll eat anything that I cook for you and act like it's the greatest thing anyone's ever cooked ever.
3. You joke with me over the summer about how we should build a blanket fort in our apartment. You then proceed to bring a stack of sheets adorned with various cartoon characters with you to college.
4. You actually build a blanket fort with me.
5. You care about the things I care about to the degree that I care about them, or at least close enough that we make it work.
I will now address these points one by one and then give her a rank accordingly.
1. As you might imagine, this has been a bit of a sore subject for us so we haven't actually discussed it yet. As a result, I'm forced to give Julianne a preliminary score of "0".
2. I haven't cooked anything specifically designed for sharing yet, but things are looking good. Last week she gave me a tremendous amount of praise when I added gardenburger and veggies to my Annie's mac and cheese. I plan to make muffins this afternoon to confirm this, but as of right now my best guess is a "9".
3. We could totally do this. We have a giant living room and a bunch of random extra furniture. I'm going to suggest it to her when I get home. I'll give her a hopeful "8".
4. This has yet to be seen, but I wouldn't rule it out. "5".
5. This is where Julianne really shines. We spent our Friday night deep cleaning our kitchen floor... I don't even know that you would have done that with me. "10".
So now, if I remember my maths correctly, to find an average I just have to take every number and multiply it by 100. That gives me a percentage which I can divide by ten, then I just add all the numbers together and divide by 50 because there are 50 states in the union, discounting Puerto Rico.
Math was never my strength.
Okay, with a zero in the netflix category she gets a combined average of 6.4 out of 10. A solid "D", which incidentally would be a great nickname for my poops.
But I digress.
Ignoring the netflix category entirely she gets an 8, which sounds much more accurate.
Keep in mind that when we first started living together you wouldn't eat fish, so you only scored a 7.3.
Oh, and for those of you who get this reference, she does not love dolphins. I repeat: No dolphin teeshirts are worn by her.
I honestly can't wait until she discovers this blog and realizes I'm a crazy person. I'll know she's read it if she starts locking her door at night.
I should probably just go ahead and post this before the field realizes it should set a password.
Talk to you later,
Emily
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