Hey, half of halfwhat will be in Chicago at the beginning of July. Can we up that ratio?
Friday, May 18, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Almost hired.
One job confirmed. Two interviews to go. 10 fingers still crossed.
I just found this photo--perhaps it should have been saved for a post about how you all are graduating...again.
p.s. Who remembers mixed tape?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Bad habits
Mine? I just started reading online personal ads. Like on Craigslist and The Stranger. Not because I'm looking for someone, I just find them entertaining. The missed connections ones are pretty good, but I like reading the actual personals and see how people like to portray themselves. I'm weird.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
The Present, The Past, and All those Ultimate Ghosts
Warning: Ultimate post.
I am back from regionals for the second time.
While I was standing on the sidelines of the Dartmouth - Tufts womens final, I realized, suddenly, that this was deja vu. The same teams, the same field, the same people on the sidelines, the same results for us the previous day (2-2, two frustrating games in which we could have played better, a B-team game and a consolation game), perhaps it would result in basically the same blog entry.
Of course, key things were different: our men, in the backdoor bracket this time, had a contentious, heart-breaking loss that lost them the bid to nationals; Dartmouth women handily destroyed Tufts and made them play for the backdoor bid (I don't remember this game being so one-sided last year, but maybe I just wasn't aware); and we, for all the frustration and bad play of our important games, hadn't had a complete emotional implosion that would lead to a sad exodus of departing seniors Saturday afternoon. Instead, Sunday morning's sideline starred a healthy, smiling handful of excited Quasar rookies yelling for their struggling men's team and still abuzz with hope for the years of ultimate they had left to play.
Last year, Spring and I were the only rookies left at the tournament the second day of regionals. The day before had been sad and cold and full of watching for me; I was one of very few rookies who came to the tournament at all and spent most of the time watching the seniors give themselves a hard time for the last time. This year, though everyone, rookies or otherwise, got substantial play, I was playing as an integral part of the team. I'm suddenly a part of the line that gets called when business needs taking care of. By virtue of the numbers on our team and the large loss of players from last year, I am now someone to look to, someone to depend on to make the catch, someone who can be put on Ralph, Petra, or any other girl we call by name because she's so freaking spectacular.
But I'm no star. And really, none of us who are left are stars. All of us have strengths, but none of us yet warrant first-name recognition, I don't think. I don't think this is a problem. In fact, it may well be the start of something very good. I remember taking to a Tufts alum I played with in Taiwan, and she told me that they had had a star player who kept the team going for a few years, but after she graduated, the truly great thing was that they had a huge group of girls who had been playing together for four years and just knew each other so well that everyone was reliable and they were able to make it to nationals, without the star--just with a lot of depth. Of course, depth isn't really depth if throwing and catching and reading and defense aren't improved, but numbers and spirit are always an important start. It isn't reaching to say that we'll be returning 15 of 17 next year: two nationals caliber grad students, one former junior nationals player, two solid second year players, two off of ACL tears, and eight rookies. One departing team member may even be back to coach. Talk about rebuilding.
And now I recognize that I am planting the seeds of what could be a very difficult parting a few years doen the road. I am investing myself--I do want to see this team go somewhere. I want to take this team somewhere. I think it'll be harder for me than I thought to keep the ideal attitude I described last year after watching the seniors go out the way they did:
I am back from regionals for the second time.
While I was standing on the sidelines of the Dartmouth - Tufts womens final, I realized, suddenly, that this was deja vu. The same teams, the same field, the same people on the sidelines, the same results for us the previous day (2-2, two frustrating games in which we could have played better, a B-team game and a consolation game), perhaps it would result in basically the same blog entry.
Of course, key things were different: our men, in the backdoor bracket this time, had a contentious, heart-breaking loss that lost them the bid to nationals; Dartmouth women handily destroyed Tufts and made them play for the backdoor bid (I don't remember this game being so one-sided last year, but maybe I just wasn't aware); and we, for all the frustration and bad play of our important games, hadn't had a complete emotional implosion that would lead to a sad exodus of departing seniors Saturday afternoon. Instead, Sunday morning's sideline starred a healthy, smiling handful of excited Quasar rookies yelling for their struggling men's team and still abuzz with hope for the years of ultimate they had left to play.
Last year, Spring and I were the only rookies left at the tournament the second day of regionals. The day before had been sad and cold and full of watching for me; I was one of very few rookies who came to the tournament at all and spent most of the time watching the seniors give themselves a hard time for the last time. This year, though everyone, rookies or otherwise, got substantial play, I was playing as an integral part of the team. I'm suddenly a part of the line that gets called when business needs taking care of. By virtue of the numbers on our team and the large loss of players from last year, I am now someone to look to, someone to depend on to make the catch, someone who can be put on Ralph, Petra, or any other girl we call by name because she's so freaking spectacular.
But I'm no star. And really, none of us who are left are stars. All of us have strengths, but none of us yet warrant first-name recognition, I don't think. I don't think this is a problem. In fact, it may well be the start of something very good. I remember taking to a Tufts alum I played with in Taiwan, and she told me that they had had a star player who kept the team going for a few years, but after she graduated, the truly great thing was that they had a huge group of girls who had been playing together for four years and just knew each other so well that everyone was reliable and they were able to make it to nationals, without the star--just with a lot of depth. Of course, depth isn't really depth if throwing and catching and reading and defense aren't improved, but numbers and spirit are always an important start. It isn't reaching to say that we'll be returning 15 of 17 next year: two nationals caliber grad students, one former junior nationals player, two solid second year players, two off of ACL tears, and eight rookies. One departing team member may even be back to coach. Talk about rebuilding.
And now I recognize that I am planting the seeds of what could be a very difficult parting a few years doen the road. I am investing myself--I do want to see this team go somewhere. I want to take this team somewhere. I think it'll be harder for me than I thought to keep the ideal attitude I described last year after watching the seniors go out the way they did:
I'm sure I'll feel differently when I'm a senior or a first-year grad, banking on a bid to nationals, playing my last tournament ever... but I hope that even then I'll be psyched to go up against whoever the current superstars are, and be psyched to get a layout D (have yet to do that) or go deep for Nina or watch Lucy pump us up with pom poms...Well. Nina didn't play this year and Lucy had pedialyte instead of pom poms... but I can work on making that happen. Ha, and ironically, since I think I've just avoided getting into a relationship with a fellow ultimate player:
Another odd thing I noticed--less to do with playing ultimate than being a part of an ultimate community, was the pervasion of ultimate couples. On day two, I tried to find myself a place on the sideline, somewhere between Kolthammer and Lucy, Mack and McDunks, Katie and Sam, and Jefe and McCrazy's flirtations; keep in mind that Harvard Men's (regionals champs!) coach Josh McCarthy and Tufts Women's (regionals runner ups!) coach Sangwha Hong (?) are also married. I not only felt young and short-- but a little pathetic playing with a disc by myself.I'm happy to report that all of these couples are still together, as far as I know, and I didn't have to play with a disc by myself on the sidelines. Things are looking up for Quasar, I'm happy to say now --but I hope I'm not posting the same thing again next year.
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