Missing my Little Cherubs

I can't decide whether it's paradoxical or it makes perfect sense that I'll be utilizing my blog a ton more now that I'm on hiatus from Facebook.  More use makes sense, of course, but I'll have like 1/64th the amount of views since most of them came from Facebook.  I like attention and I like when people listen to what I happen to have to say (aka, when my statuses got liked on Facebook), which is why I like the silliness of Twitter.  I got 45 followers, yo.  Thing is, I'm a Dickens, not a Hemingway.  Y'all know that.  160 characters is hardly enough to hashtag a tweet, never mind compose a complete thought.  So I'll be taking to blogging to fulfill my personal attention-hog needs.  I approximate that this post will get about 17 views since it'll get tweeted about and not plastered all over Facebook.  Thanks you guyssssss.

I adore all of my classes this semester, despite all the hours of homework I'm unaccustomed to putting in.  My favorite is probably the one least relevant to my major- my Social Fact from Fiction Honors Seminar.  We read roughly a book a week, each of which is a fictional work that says something very factual about various social problems we face in society.  We're currently reading Black and Blue, by Anna Quindlen.  The title is a clever play on two things: bruises from domestic violence and her husband's position as a police officer.  It's got a compelling plot and makes you feel very real sympathy for the plight of Fran, our protagonist.  I'm just about through with it, but I'm not here to summarize or sell it to you.  I just want to talk about the characterization.

There are two characters in the novel hit close to home for me.  So close to home, in fact, that it was painful to read at moments.  One is Fran's sister, Gracie, and one is her son, Robert.  With Grace, it's the relationship of the sisters that brings me immediately to mine with Delia, while it's the actual character of Robert that brings Ewok to mind.  I actually post-it noted a few passages.  "Direct conversation had never been the way to engage [Eric]; I always had to wait through the silences for his words to swim up at me."  I saw, like a third person omniscient narrator might, myself sitting at the kitchen table, perhaps home from school on a break, watching Eric eat two Oreos with a glass of milk, reading the comics page (The Peanuts Gang first).  I could ask him a thousand questions--"How was school?  Learn anything interesting?  How's Mr. Specht doing?  What are you playing in orchestra?  Do you have hockey tonight?  How's [insert crush's name here]?"--and he'd answer in a quarter as many words--"Good.  Yeah.  He was okay.  The same pieces you played.  Yeah. I don't talk to her."  It wasn't until I bit my tongue and sat patiently that the good stuff would come out--"Oh!  Guess what Nick and Kyle and I decided at lunch about our mini-hockey team!"  And then I'd hear all the necessary updates on the Nebraska Knights, for which their friend Tom was Captain.  

Showing me via Skype
that they can dance

Or maybe a commercial would come on and remind Eric of a thought he had.  He'd ask a question about music and I'd launch happily into an hour-long explanation of chords and chord progressions and lead sheets, shocking Eric with the news that notation exists beyond sheet music.  Just like Fran's son in the story.  Maybe all teenage boys are like that.  Regardless, Fran's son also has the same birthday as Ewok does.  I was going to rhetorically ask what the odds of that are, but my Stats class last semester definitely taught me how to figure it out.  The odds are precisely 1/365.  

The relationship between Fran and her little sister Gracie is my favorite thing about this book.  The closeness of the sisters was established early on and referenced often enough so you never forgot it.  "If only I could talk to my sister, the way I had in the half-light of our bedroom when we were girls, the street lamps shining in a divot of yellow across our twin beds.  If only I could talk to [Delia] the way I did when we were younger, lying in the darkness listening to her questions, answering them as best I could."  There are dozens of lines in the book that sound like this.  Like the author had seen some picture of Delia and me giggling across the room to each other in hushed tones when Mom thought we were asleep.  No such picture exists, of course.  There is absolutely no evidence of the late-night chats that left us with dark circles under our eyes.  We were excellent at feigning sleep.  Mom totally never had a clue (Read as: Mom totally let us have our fun because she was glad we didn't fight).  

Infamous SISTERS Face

If I went to bed later than Delia did--being three years older, I deserved a later bed time--she waited up for me.  We shared a room for ten years and did this every night.  I cried when I spent the first night in my own room at the age of 15.  We got over it, but we've always had this unspoken agreement of saying good night since then.  That meant that one of us would go to the other's room and we'd say all the things and ask all the questions and show all the texts and share all the gossip we hadn't had a chance to during the day.  Usually it was in my room, since I always went to bed later, plus we wouldn't wake anyone up laughing from downstairs.  Even now, five years later, it's still the tradition when I'm home from school.  We've both fallen asleep on my bed, waking up confused in the middle of the night.  

Well anyway, Grace was what Fran missed most when she moved across the country under a new name to escape her abusive husband.  Fran referenced those good times with her sister frequently.  One such tradition was calling each other to trade horror stories after Thanksgiving dinner.  It wasn't until months after Fran and her son settled in that new town with their new names that she picked up the phone and called her sister after Thanksgiving dinner.  For four straight pages I sobbed with Frannie and Gracie.  In a happy story, you cry for the sad parts.  In a sad story, you cry for the happy ones.  



In retrospect, the lines that reminded me of Delia and Eric were less convincing than I remembered them being.  There are definite parallels, but no one else would have noticed.  It just goes to show that I see Delia and Eric everywhere I look.  I've said it before and I hope you believe me: I adore my siblings more than anything else in the world.  

You see the resemblance too, right?

Top Twelve Memories of 2012

We all know the entire ordeal of 2012 has been a whirlwind of a time.  Here are things that will make me smile most to look back on:

12) HUSKY HUNT

Some hated the Hunt, some slept through it, and some even went mysteriously missing.  I’m a competitive and enthusiastic person, though, so I took it seriously and went hard, going on a two-hour walk (getting romantic with Meredith under an archway in a park--Sorry, Eric), a six-hour bike ride through Cambridge in the coldest hours of night (spying a rather beautiful sunrise), and a 5-hour walk through Beacon Hill (encountering men dressed as a vampire gangster, a smoking Santa, and a hot dog).  The Rubik’s Cubes (Shannon, LV, Mer, Eric, Laura, Ryan, Al, Andy, Harrison, Joe, Aimee, and myself) did a lot of bonding, invented some creative Lion poses, and placed at a proud 28 out of 50.

11) Fiction of the Year

I need a broad topic to acknowledge a few things I fan-girled over this year: Doctor Who, Rod McKuen’s poetry, and How I Met Your Mother, plus how I reaffirmed my love affair with Harry Potter.  The Whovians of Northeastern (Laura, Lauren Belle, and Mer) turned me onto the BBC show Doctor Who in 2011, but it wasn’t until this year that I watched the 2005 Revival in its entirety.  I am enamored.  Like many, Ten is my favorite Doctor--his cheekiness, arrogance, and scientific, timey-wimey jargon never fail to delight--but I adored Eleven’s relationship with Amy and Rory and cried as though real people died at the end of The Angels Take Manhattan.  Plus, after converting Eric into a more obsessed Whovian than I am, we explored some Scarf-y Fourth Doctor silliness.  It’s an excellent show.  I apologize for losing many of you in that rant.  On a more lovey-dovey note, I fell in even deeper amour 
with the poetry of Rod McKuen.  Don’t take my word for it, just check his books out.  I’ll leave you with some sweet one-liners for inspiration: “I’ll stay awhile / and track the hidden country of your smile,” “I want to see the world within the circle of your arms,” and “You see how easily we fit together, as if God’s own hand had cradled only us.”  Go.  Read.  Bask in the Romance.  Delia and I discovered How I Met Your Mother this year and watch

Character pose!

 every episode together.  It’s our thing.  It’s a brilliantly crafted sitcom that I dwelled on enough in my Broken Jaw post.  Lastly, Andrea, Rebecca, and I rekindled our love for Harry Potter this summer by instating a book and movie club, culminating in a costume party double feature of the 7th and 8th movies: I dressed as Luna, Andrea as Dobby (complete with an authentic pillow case dress), Rebecca as Mad-Eye Moody, and even Jacqui donned feathers and hooted that she was Hedwig.  (Only my character survived.)  Danielle, Paige, and Christina made it to some events, and we even brewed Butterbeer.  Those nights MADE my summer.  

10) Classy Dinner Party

I think that that evening, which preceded Hurricane Monday, is a nice way to commemorate my friendship with the Duplex and generally how wonderful life is with the lovely ladies of WVF616.  My fantastic roomies humored me by helping make high-effort food (a.k.a. it required more work than just microwave preparation), cleaning (you could see the tabletop for the first time in WEEKS), and dressing all fancy for the occasion (not that they needed telling twice, those foxes!).  We had Mer, Belle, LV, Sarah, Laura, Shannon, Chris*, Nick, Charlie, Adam (1), and Adam (2) in attendance.  Lots of inside jokes were born, including those associated with hair gel.

9) North End Adventure

A freshman year classic.  On a whim, Sarah, Meredith, Lauren Belle, and I decided we’d love ourselves some Italian chow for dinner.  No one else was around to invite, so we just set sail for the North End, spawning jokes like “Two ships passing in the night,” Spite houses/babies, and immature playground silliness, in addition to scoring an awesome dinner at Cafe Pompeii.  We still sometimes reference that random adventure, just because it’s such a perfect example of the casual, random craziness of our little group of friends.

8) Sonata Arctica

What would even be the point of a Top 2012 list without the year's top music?  I finally got to see my favorite band in the world (literally, out of all world music), Sonata Arctica, live at the Palladium.  They're a Finnish power metal band that I've been in music love with since I was 16.  Andy took the trek to Worcester with me and we had a good time reconnecting on the long train ride.  Eric was kind enough to chauffeur us around the city, stating plainly that it wasn't a fantastic area to be walking around in at night.  The warm-up acts sucked and the venue was a frigid little cavern, but the band and their loud, melodic music, played at speeds to rival Olympian track runners, lived up to every expectation I've set for them in the last three years.  

7) Family Holidays

I can never stress enough how critical my family is to me every day of my life.  Of course there's my brother, who made me the sweetest Doctor Who themed Christmas card; my sister, who, though full of sass sometimes, still admits to missing me and needing help other times; my dad, who thinks in the same erratic patterns as I do and shares my affinities for coffee, Mulberry Street pizza, and the TNT show Leverage; and my mom, who never stops giving to her children and supports all the endeavors we undertake, from driving to and from rehearsals to cheering on the benches at a freezing November dek hockey game.  

Then, there's all the extended family we see at as many holidays as we can: Nonni, with her world-renowned Christmas cookies; Nonno, with the stern face he wears when he asks about boys; Aunt Terry, who always wore the silly Halloween sweatshirt and socks because I asked her to; Uncle Vic, who teases incessantly; Cassie, who we eagerly catch up with the few times we see her; Bella, who fits in as easily talking with the older cousins as she does making trouble with the little ones; Uncle Ettore, who we always seem to give Pannettone for Christmas; "Uncle" Paul, who said Hermi-one until I corrected him; Aunt Renee, with her sweet smile; crazy Robbie, who hasn't let me hug him since he was 3; Michael, who has not followed in Robbie's footsteps and still smiles for my pictures; Uncle Bruce, who might be the most patient person I've ever met; Aunt Michelle, who designates me babysitter for these holiday gatherings, since being around kids is "the best birth control, and you're old enough to be told this!"; Dario, who has the same voice as Uncle Bruce; Sebastian Pasquale, who's too little to be sassy yet; Uncle Frank, who apparently rolled under a couch as an infant; Uncle Gianni, whose eyes smile when he tells stories about his merry life as a bus driver; (Aunt Maria, who had the heartiest, happiest laughter I ever heard); Uncle Mark, who's young 

enough to make relatable jokes about the craziness of college but also old enough to whack me upside the head for the same craziness; sweet Aunt Angela, who we beg to make pecan pies to every holiday; Luke, the little cousin who's cute enough to get away with making mischief; Ava, who puts on my makeup when I'm not looking; Uncle Mario, who always says "Ciao, bella," when he hugs; Aunt Angela, who's been all over the world and shares my birthday; Aunt Grace, my scatter-brained, silly, and loving Godmother; Uncle Ignazio, who taught us to sing I Dodici Giorni di Natale; and Marianna, who's kind enough to still hang out with the kiddies even though she's thoroughly a grown-up these days.  

Mr. and Mrs. Gustav Samuel Johannes

And so on and so forth.  Any holiday.  Every holiday.  

6) Company

Go on, roll your eyes.  I wander around humming songs, I quote the lyrics whether or not anyone knows what I'm talking about, and I always cite it as one of the most interestingly interpreted shows ever.  Quite obviously, I'm actually just saying how lucky I was to be a part of Northeastern's fabulous production.  I'm lucky I had so many friends come see it and share the experience with me and I can't wait for the next one.  But seriously, give the show a shot.  

5) Freshman Year Move-Out

No, this wasn't a happy memory.  It was actually one of the saddest days ever, but that was purely because my freshman year was such a good memory--and I mean every minute of it.  The whole feeling of my first year as a Husky is mirrored in how sad I was to leave in April.  I was sad to see the end of all those fantastic times: Zombie musicals, late night Dominoes after MIT parties, hours in the piano rooms, gathering the usual suspects for dinner, movie nights, common room shenanigans, and Trojan War tactics are just a few of the ridiculous happenings that gave flavor to my freshman year.  Moving out was a sad day because it would be the end of those times, but the sadness only reflected how fantastic a year it was.

4) Woodloch Pines

I've written an entire blog about this beautiful little patch of the universe already.  If you don't understand how it can be such a monumental cornerstone in the lives of my family and the Schizzanos by this point, then I can't help you understand anymore.  

3) Getting My Braces Off

The joy of being officially done with all things dental (save for wearing a retainer very night) far exceeded the irritation of my gums bleeding for a few days.  That day was a reflection of all the things my family and I had survived: a year of braces and surgical wires, a six-hour surgery, the most horrible night in the hospital, and weeks of numbness and an all-liquid diet.  Well, I'm still numb, but in the scheme of everything else, I'll take what I can get.  We survived!

2) Delia's Sweet Sixteen

I've written a whole blog on this one too, which you should check out if you haven't.  Here's an abridged version: When a Sweet Sixteen is done right, it's both a party and an emotional experience.  We had a fantastic time at Delia's, dancing and singing, watching the video her friends prepared as a surprise, her emotional candle ceremony (I cried my fake eye lashes off), and taking pictures with the beautiful birthday princess.  We had all of Delia's friends in attendance, plus Chelsea, Sydney, Mr. & Mrs. Schizzano, Miss Denise the ballet 

ACTUALLY a fairy princess.

teacher, all the Brengel cousins (even if the boys were being difficult about dancing), Justin (who let us put a pink crown on him for half a second), the Miliones, the Finellis, and Ginger.  We had our traditional eating leftover food and opening gifts into the wee hours of the morning session afterwards.  It certainly was a fairy-tale of an evening with the whole family.






And the biggest, most monumental moment of my 2012?

1) Moving In for Sophomore Year

I remember crystal clearly that when we drove over the I-90 bridge and the city of Boston came into view, Big City Nights by the Scorpions was playing and I was giddy with excitement to see all my Huskies again.  Maybe I didn't know exactly what was in store for the year but we all knew if it was anything like last year had been, every day would be an adventure.  And every day has been a greater adventure than the last, filled with Photo shoots, Mixfest, TV Show Viewing Parties, Aquarium detours, Birthday dinners, Boston Pops concerts, Holiday festivities, getting dressed up to go teach other's concerts, and  random city excursions.  What's most special about life at Northeastern, though, is how sitting at home playing Cards Against Humanity, improvising ridiculous song lyrics, watching Trapped in the Closet, playing enough music to peel the skin off my fingers, having random dance breaks, or even just catching up on each others' lives over a bowl of cookie dough is just as fulfilling as any big adventure.  I can't confine all the laughing, nerding-out, dancing, teasing, screaming, craziness of life at Northeastern into one concise memory, so instead, my top memory from this year is the giddy anticipation I felt that day in the car for all of the times that would be had.  I can't thank my mom and dad enough for supporting me in my decision to be a Northeastern Husky and I couldn't be more blessed to have met the fantastic people that I did. 

Thank you EVERYONE in my life for all the wonderful things you gave me this year.  It certainly wasn't an easy year, what with a broken jaw, a hurricane, losing two elderly aunts, and the lamentable loss of a friend.  I truly don't know how I'd have gotten through without the support, advice, and warm embraces of all my family and friends.  My resolution for 2013 is to give as much back to you all as you've given me.  



*Editor's Note: Chris dislikes when I refer to him as Chrissy.