Bringing Monster home for Thanksgiving

I've never really celebrated Thanksgiving until last year. We continued the tradition this year, purchasing a turkey at 10 a.m. along with mashed potatoes with gravy, sweet yams, bread, and stuffing. We started eating as soon as we got the table set up because the turkey was still warm from the oven. Monster joined us for Thanksgiving this year, our first Thanksgiving together, and we all gathered around the table hungrily eyeing the turkey and food. Unfortunately, my older brother decided that the turkey had to be cut properly, so he stood by the turkey with a knife and fork and his laptop balanced precariously on the table, trying to cut the darn turkey and stopping every two seconds to glance back at his laptop to make sure he was doing it the right way.

We got tired after about ten seconds of this tomfoolery; my mom grabbed the knife and ripped that turkey apart. The rest of our day was filled with games, fun, movies, and just general family time. This is my fourth family trip with Monster, and I think we get more and more comfortable with each other's families every time we do it. Monster told me yesterday he truly feels at home with my family, which warms my heart. It's so wonderful to be here with everyone I love, and not having to wish Monster were here with us too. Granted, there are some parts I wish he didn't have to see, like how heated we can get during a game of Settlers, when we're all yelling at each other because of a stolen resource or fuming because someone blocked off our trade route. But family is family, and you gotta love 'em.

My little cousin is participating in nano-rhino...well it's actually "NaNoWriMo," or short for "National Novel Writing Month," but "nano-rhino" is what I heard the first few times he tried to explain it to me. He's typing away furiously, and I still can't comprehend why one would want to write 50,000 words in a novel just for nothing when they could be busy doing other things with their fingers, like stuffing their faces with turkey. But maybe I'm just bitter because I have so many papers to write for next week, and I keep telling Monster I'm going to be a crying mess on Sunday night because of all the work I haven't done due to turkey-eating and Settlers-playing. I wonder if I'll miss the homework once I start working. I actually know people who are odd like that.

My cousins, Monster, and I have also started a competition against each other on a Facebook game called "Word Challenge." It's interesting in the sense that after every score, the game will liken your vocabulary to a certain vocation. I've been told that my vocabulary is equivalent to that of a pro-wrestler's, a schoolyard bully's, an actor's, a scribe's, a celebrity chef's, a librarian's, a politician's, an anagram cyborg's, and a carpenter's. This game must be terribly insulting to those who actually have those occupations. Also, who decides which occupation matches with which vocabulary level? Who's to say that a celebrity chef has worse diction than an anagram cyborg? 'Scuse me, but Bobby Flay could talk rings around any ol' cyborg any day.

Tomorrow I've agreed to play Diplomacy with everyone, which is apparently like Risk. For those of you unfamiliar with the game(s), it basically involves forming alliances and then backstabbing those in your alliance. Since Monster's been begging me to play, I've agreed to play with him against my better judgment, but knowing how competitive I am, he may be sleeping on the couch for the next few nights after we get home.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, and I hope it's filled with the things and the people you love most.

The last of the limelight

You know it's a good performance when, mid-song, the audience is cheering and screaming so loudly you can't even hear the music, and you just have to go with your gut intuition and pray that you're on time with the music. Tonight's performance went, needless to say, wonderfully. Each couple got to perform a solo that they choreographed with their partner, and Monster and I decided to completely re-choreograph our solo three days before the performance. We stuck in a difficult aerial that kept failing, as we didn't have the right technique (learning aerials from Youtube rather than from people who can explain things to you isn't always the brightest idea), and although I was supposed to jump and be swung up onto Monster's shoulder, instead I ended up at his chest, where I--and my spirits--would crash and fall. At the end of our two hours I was frustrated and pessimistic. But we kept trying, and failing, and picking ourselves up and ignoring the bruises and trying harder, jumping higher. Our persistence paid off. On the day of the performance, we changed things around a little bit--I tried a different way of jumping, Monster tried a different handhold--and it worked. Not perfectly, at first, but it still worked, and I found myself soaring, elatedly, to Monster's shoulder, where he would then lower me in a backflip.

I was super jittery all night until our midnight performance, but still excited to perform. I watched our dance group perform one song with all its new members, and felt a crazy wave of nostalgia. But soon enough, it was my turn again to watch while the dance floor cleared and everyone sat down, to watch those bright lights turn on just for us, to feel the adrenaline grip my gut. I had many friends in the audience, and what a rush hearing them cheer for me! And when Monster and I went into the middle of the stage to perform our solo, the moment came for our aerial, and I jumped as hard and as high as I could, fearless, and found myself soaring safely towards his shoulder, and I heard the crowd screaming so loudly I could no longer hear the music when I landed back on the ground, and the happiness I felt was the happiness of every cliche. There are simply no words. I love performing, I loved it, and I will always love it. But tonight, it was time to fold my dress--my trademark dress, for the last four years--up for the very last time before returning it to the group, slip out the red ribbon that the girls always wear when performing, and get used to being in the audience rather than on stage. It won't be easy, by any means, but life will get better. I'm sure of it.

I'm trying to think of a tagline for my security badge for when I start work. I'm sure these taglines, which will be written in small print beneath my name, won't even be looked at twice. But right now, I'm treating it as if the company's CEO and all my co-workers will make harsh judgments on my personality and the worth of my soul if my tagline isn't witty enough. Some ideas: What do you call an Italian with a rubber toe? Roberto! Monster's favorite: why do atoms have mass? They aren't even Catholic! You love us; admit it.

Rain, I love you, but how dare you give me "wet butt"

Halloween is a perfect holiday. First of all, I like it because it falls so close to my birthday. But secondly, there's a certain atmosphere about it that really warms my heart. The weather starts to change, the skies grow gray and cloudy, there's an excitement in the air about dressing up as ghouls and witches and going trick-or-treating. My family moved away when I was five, so I never experienced trick-or-treating until coming to college (my friends and I went trick-or-treating for Second Harvest, a charity organization that collects canned goods, and even though we asked for cans, we got lots of candy thrown into our bags as well), and I might as well have been a child again; it was that exciting and magical. This year, it rained on Halloween, after months of sticky summer days and constant sunshine. Monster and I dressed up as Minnie Mouse and Troy from High School Musical, and we went out dancing at Berkeley's outdoor swing night. We danced underneath a passageway as rain drummed the roof above us, fairies and skeletons swing dancing next to us and even out in the rain, droplets glistening in their green wigs.

I loved that it was raining, love the feeling of watching it fall outside our high-glass windows as I curl up on the couch in a fuzzy blanket and my favorite pajama pants. It brings me right back to my childhood, when I would bury my nose in a good book and read to the rhythm of raindrops. Of course, when I woke up and stepped outside to a rainy afternoon and had to bike to class with raindrops blinding me and lamented the conspicuous wet imprint that a wet bike seat had left on my butt, I released an impressive string of swear words against rain and its mother. But this Halloween, nothing seemed more delightful and desirable than gray skies and rain.

This past weekend, we had a reunion for my dance group, and Monster and I got to meet lots of old friends and watch videos of our past performances, laughing and cringeing about dances well-executed and moves not-so-well executed. My dance group holds such a special place in my heart. I joined it as a sophomore in college, and it gave me a chance to dance, to perform, to feel part of a group again in a university that would otherwise have swallowed me whole, made me anonymous. My senior year, I stepped up to become the group's leader, a position which I held for the next two years. This is my first year not being in the group, and I feel bittersweet, nostalgic, sad, and relieved all at once--sad because I miss being part of a group and performing, obviously, but bittersweet because while I know life with Monster will only get better, I have a hard time accepting that this is it, this is the end of college life, and in a few months I'll be starting work in the so-called and much-feared "real world."

There have been two weddings so far of people who met each other in my dance group, and a third one will be held this spring. Monster and I shared a special smile when everyone looked at us and said we would be next, and even gave us pre-emptive congratulations when we said goodbye for the night. "Let's beat them to it," we joked about the third wedding couple, meaning we'd have to get engaged and married by spring. Not quite yet, not quite yet. That's the most important thing my dance group gave me--it left me with Monster, a romance that budded but remained subdued as we fought our attraction for each other all year long, denying that we could be anything more than friends, and finally came to bloom at the end of the year in something that feels effortless and natural and perfect all at once.

In a crazy twist of fate, we're actually performing with our dance group again this Friday, for the very last time. Monster and I are going to have to put a lot of time into extra rehearsals this week to make sure we're ready for the show, but I'm already feeling the excitement, the adrenaline rush that I've missed so much, the sweat on the palm of my hands as I think of the audience waiting to watch us perform. And I can't wait for this one last dance.