Journey to Groceries

There's something called a "Super Fresh" not far from where I'm staying. It's okay as a grocery store, but has apparently recently been bought out so they're not re-stocking anything. It's pathetic. It depresses me to go in there and it's actually quite a little trek from where I am, so I sort of swore off of the Super Fresh train.
On a Sunday just over three weeks into my move to the big city, I decided I had earned a day confined to my bedroom Netflix-ing my life away.

I had delusions of making it to a real grocery store but all I really REALLY needed was milk, because Mac and Cheese.

Dear Mother sent me four of these and various other food products because she in convinced I am starving. Everyone: Please continue telling my Mother I am starving.

So I knit and Netflix-ed and promptly realized it was past 4 PM and I should maybe consider leaving the house at some point. I Yelped the closest grocery stores (of which there were several, but I have recently noticed that a city's idea of a "grocery store" is similar to my idea of a "gas station"). Ultimately, I found something called a "Save-A-Lot" that was about a six minute walk from my gracious hosts abode.

I mean, c'mon, Save-A-Lot? How could it not be great? I like many things that include the word "Lot" Big Lots, back home is slightly quirky, but has some great things. Sir Mix A Lot? I mean, of course. Dye Lots? Has to do with yarn and is very useful, so of course I like it. Parking Lots? Sure. They're alright.

Couldn't possibly just be a coincidence, right?

I set out on my adventure and roughly three blocks from home base, I found myself surrounded by several very large, abandoned warehouses and came across this:

Because sometimes you just gotta burn a bunch of shit on the sidewalk.

So that's cool. Just a fire in the middle of the sidewalk. Saturday night public bonfire, perhaps? Whatever, I'm sure the had permits (I'm certain they didn't) or a good reason (disposing of crime evidence? a murder weapon? a BODY?!?) I'm sure they fire department came and put it out (I haven't seen or heard a fire truck since I've been out here. I'm beginning to think they're still horse drawn out here).

 Not even a block farther down the road was the mystical land called Save-A-Lot, whose entrance was surrounded by bars. You could get through the bars, but not easily. Looking back on it, I think they were placed that way to keep people from stealing their carts (they're VERY serious about keeping all their carts) but when I squeezed through them at the time I contemplated how one had to be truly hungry to shop here. A principle concept probably directly out of line with Sir Mix A Lot's teachings (yeah, I said his teachings. Like he's booty-prophet or something), whom I had assumed would have something to do with this place...

As far as the content of the store goes, it was really quite something. I'm uncertain if any of it had passed any sort of FDA exam. The ingredient lists for most everything were longer than my arm and from a brand that I had never seen. Isles had one or two things listed as being in them and were full of anything but. Although, some form of coffee or instant coffee could be found in every isle. In short: This place was magical. And so. cheap.

I didn't take pictures of the store because I was so entranced. If you would like to experience the ultimate anti-climax, you're welcome Google Earth link here.

I can't say I'll be returning to the Save-A-Lot anytime soon, as I don't think I could sustain a functioning, highly physical, active body off of it's goods for long, but as I was passing the skate park, classically full of pre-teen boys that reeked of weed and swore almost as eloquently as my mother does, I was grateful for the experience. It was also a place that I might as well have been screaming to everyone, "HEY! I DON'T BELONG HERE! I ABSOLUTELY DON'T BELONG IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

So the adventure continues. Country bumpkin-ing. One foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely. And victoriously:

Yes. Shameless Mac and Cheese in bed selfie. And yes. 1 box=1 serving.

In Which Homesickness Strikes

I have now been living in Philadelphia for three weeks. My program is still incredible, but it's not the only thing I'm learning. I'm learning a ton about the city too.

I got a bicycle, which is making getting my bearings around the city MUCH easier than just riding the El, which has a tendency to jostle my sense of direction. As does being surrounded by tall buildings. Funny, when I can't tell where the sun is, my sense of direction becomes really terrible.

Why is there a dinosaur in this shot? That's a ridiculous question.

I'm learning all sorts of fun things. Things like you can't buy wine or beer in grocery stores. You can buy wine at liquor stores, but not beer, beer you have to buy at beer stores. You can drink beer at beer stores sometimes, but usually you have to take it home, unless it's a special beer store/restaurant combo. Unless it's some weird street festival like Oktoberfest, then you can just take your beer outside and drink it wherever you want. You can also pay an inordinate amount of money for six packs to go at almost any bar. and you can bring your own alcohol to almost any restaurant. Seriously, Pennsylvania, with the liquor laws.

I'm also learning that, hey, maybe don't go into parts of town that make you feel weird. Like the El stop closest to where I'm living. Or north of that one street EVER. Or anywhere near Temple. What makes it feel weird? I DON'T KNOW! It's seriously been the most fascinating country bumpkin experience ever. It's not a race divide, though it may have to do with class. I've felt the least comfortable when I'm out numbered greatly by gender in neighborhoods, which I don't really even know how that happens. It's really fascinating to have this instinctual feeling of "I really don't belong here" and being an analytical human that I am I immediately start asking myself, "Why do I feel like I don't belong here?" "What would make me feel more at home in this situation?" "Why am I asking myself these questions instead of focusing on getting off this block?"

I have gotten the stone cold bitch face down to a science. Like I didn't already.

"What about that shadowy part?" I asked and James Earl Jones said to me, "That is North Philly. You must never go there." I then promptly got off at a North Philly El stop. Sorry James. At least it was daylight hours.

I spent some time in South Philly yesterday, as I hadn't really explored that area before. South Philadelphia, for those who don't know is what upper-middle-class people would generally refer to as a "nice" part of town or "quaint" or "so bo-ho" or "cultured" or something else ridiculous. It was full of people having brunch and families in parks. There was an art festival happening in Rittenhouse Square and people enjoying their weekend everywhere. Why was I there? Come on guys, for the yarn shop, obviously.

Loop is one of the few yarn shops I could find in Philly that wasn't somewhere far off in the distance in West Philly or in a mythical land some call "New Jersey". Everything about this shop is delightful. The ladies working were warm and welcoming (yes, of course I dropped of my resume and fished for work-though to no avail), the shop itself was beautiful with hardwood floors and lovely displays, and the clientele was exactly what I've come to expect from yarn stores. Versatile and quirky as all get out (one of them was even in town briefly from said mythical land called New Jersey. Guys- stereotypes exist for a reason).

I thought finding a lovely yarn shop would make me feel more at home and in my element in a new city, but alas, it made me long for the things I saw echos of familiarity in. I ache a little for home this weekend.

When I'm constantly busy working through the week and physically exhausted from school it's very easy for me to keep my Philadelphia blinders on. But when the weekend hits and I have some time to stew, I start to miss small things like nature. And being not sweaty from humidity. And of course, the humans. I find myself illogically, immensely frustrated that I can't just go visit Boise for the weekend. But I can't. And that's okay. It will make it all the sweeter when I can. See you someday, Boise.

It's Only the Beginning

*Please Note: Things are getting more personal. My life is getting less private. Expect to see that reflected here. I'm exposing more (MAYBE BOOBS?!?! WHO KNOWS?! READ ON!). There's more me here than usual. *

I've just wrapped my second week of graduate school and it's wonderful. It's hard work. It's exactly what I was hoping it would be and then some.

School uniform! Looking particularly maniacal.

Philadelphia Fringe Festival happens to be running for this first month of school- which is incredible. We're seeing tons of shows that we'll be discussing at a later point in class. We're being encouraged to "Fringe-Binge" to our heart's content. Philly Fringe is chalk full of local, National and International performances in theater, dance and visual arts of all sorts. Locations are all over the city in basements of bars, formal theaters, empty store fronts, outside in parks, everywhere. It's been a beautiful introduction to the city.

A shot of the house pre-show of Pig Iron's Fringe Fest Piece: Swamp Is On. Sheer rock n' roll awesome.

I find my country bumpkin-ness kicking in from time to time, but nothing that's gotten me killed thus far. Sometimes someone on the street makes eye contact with you and you exchange pleasant hellos. Sometimes someone makes eye contact with you and then asks you what you name is and if you've got a minute and looks at you like maybe he wants to take your skin off your body and wear you as a suit. Hey- there's all kinds of people everywhere you go. In that respect, I've had to raise my guards a bit. In class I've been trying to find where they are so I can take them down a notch.

The view from my crappy local grocery store. I was mugged while I took this picture. Not really. But I felt like I should have been because I was taking a picture of a city skyline in a grocery store. Doing everything but exclaiming, "Whul golly gee!"

There's 15 of us. We are all exceptional. And challenging. Over the last 6 years of beginning my professional career I have had the great fortune of working with many of my favorite humans. Former class mates I had always admired. Professors I was crazy about. Professionals in the community who invited my voice into a room. Drinking buddies with a drive. All of the above. Regardless of who they were, we had a former mode of communication before we began working together, with very few exceptions.

Not so with this class.

NERD! Happy, happy nerd.

We range in age from twenty-three to fifty-four (maybe older, but I'm not one to inquire about ages), which is thrilling for me. We range in experience from fresh out of undergrad to producing professional regional theater and beyond. We range in background from military to Carnegie Mellon grads to circus school grads. We make something together in varying group sizes every week and it's extremely difficult.

1st and 2nd years.

I find myself on a precipice fairly frequently. I'm uncertain as to what that precipice is exactly, as I generally have been steering clear of it because it feels like it could be doubt and anguish and sadness and tears and fear. However, in the interest of being less guarded and more open and showing off some of that sexy vulnerability, here's a touch of honest openness for you: As much as I revere my independence and am proud as an individual, I miss my partner in crime out here a great deal and it sneaks up on me in what I deem as unfair ways. Often I'm so involved emotionally and physically in courses that missing him feels romanticized and melodramatic in an almost sweet, longing, classical way. Other times I just wake up plain angry, annoyed and immaturely inconvenienced. It's strange, but I'm fairly certain a good thing, in the long run, though immensely frustrating in the short term.

So much stupid happy.

I also just miss being established somewhere. The community here has been kind to me; offering couches and sublets to house me until we have enough money and security to find a place for both of us. It will take time. It's reassuring knowing that I don't have to establish myself here if I don't want to. I'm here for grad school, not to start a completely new life, though that may happen. I'm allowed to be temporary right now.

The beautiful view from my gracious hosts' roof deck. Yummy.

Thank you for your text messages. Your Facebook updates. For favoriting tweets. You make me feel close and warm and snugly to that sweet Boise bosom. Heh. Boise bosom.