Below are the 13 most recent journal entries recorded in marta_casey's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, July 19th, 2006
7:51 am	With Hands in the Air -- for Grandma July 16, 2006 Dear Friends and Family, This is Marta, one of Sally’s granddaughters. I am in Alaska right now finishing a job at a newspaper. Although I cannot be with you today, I am thinking of Grandma and all of you. I wrote the following words for this service. I guess you could say it’s an appreciation piece. Its title is “With Hands in the Air.” Wrapped in bandages from head to toe, Grandma could hardly bend her wrists to shake a finger at me. Even her face was partially covered. But the operation had been successful—just as I, her doctor, had planned; indeed, I’d used almost two full rolls of toilet paper in the post-surgery wrapping. She was bound all over—around her wrists, arms, neck, legs, and feet. I’d even stuck some toilet paper between Grandma’s red-painted toenails. “How’s it looking doctor?” she asked me, her voice low in a serious tone, almost gruff. “Pretty good, Mrs. Busch. I think you’ll be walking again soon,” I told my patient optimistically, smiling with an empty toilet paper tube in one hand. She laughed a little as she tried to lean forward for a sip of water. I had to help her unwind her toilet paper bandages so that she could sit up. And then I let my patient go—for a little while, at least. I loved playing “doctor” with Grandma. And I think she liked it too, even if it meant being at a small child’s mercy for an hour or two and being mummified with toilet paper on the living couch. Grandma was different from other grandmas. Grandma had guts. Grandma had swank and her own kind of swing. And she always had thoughts and ideas she was ruminating in her head. She was a fun playmate when I was little. And when I got older, we enjoyed long conversations that always left me with knew perspectives and knowledge. And she was funny. Grandma made me laugh. She’s the reason I started investing when I received my first paycheck, and she asked me about the rates of return immediately. She was known for spraying people when opening juice boxes, a trait I have proudly inherited. I also have Grandma’s feet—the wide toe-box and the same long shape. Grandma and I shared a passion for having many shoes, and would exchange our shoes occasionally, though usually it was one-way from her to me. Once she gave me her jean shoes with black rubber bottoms. Hip and funky, they are shoes everyone complimented me on. I still have them. “My grandma gave me these,” I tell everyone. I like the similarities between Grandma and me. It means we are connected. I thought about our connections when Grandma told stories of her younger years. She was a hard worker and quirky, raising five kids while finishing her degree, helping to establish the Richland library and start what is now the Methodist church, buying the family’s first house (and painting it as high as she could reach on foot), studying Latin word roots, sociology and anthropology, driving across the country on her own, and throwing clothes into the snow to wash them. She’d read about that in a book somewhere. Grandma had gumption and an independent spirit. She appreciated people and their stories. She had great stories of her own adventures, too, and her humor in sharing them showed how she’d had fun all along the way. One of my favorite stories of Grandma is the “Moose Story” that my mother and Grandpa like to tell. Right now, I am in Alaska. I’ve been running into many moose myself this summer. The first time I saw a moose, it was only a few feet from my bike and I sped up quickly. As I rolled past, the young moose merely lifted his head as if to say, “Hey, what’s the big deal?” I laughed—and I thought about Grandma. Grandma had seen her moose on foot in the middle of a dirt road in Maine, the large ungulate trotting behind her as she waved her arms and yelled for my grandfather—I would have waved my arms and yelled for help, too. Actually, I did that just last week—I was out jogging and a moose emerged from someone’s driveway. Running down the middle of the road, I flagged down a car for a ride past the large brown animal. The driver said she stopped because I had looked panicked, running toward her with my hands in the air. I don’t know the other ways that my life pattern and personal characteristics will follow Grandma’s. I hope that I can be as brave and strong-willed, as individualistic and still appreciative of others, and as open-minded and willing to learn for my whole life as Grandma. As I get older, new parts of who I am emerge. Sometimes I’m not sure where they come from. But as we share in her life stories and remember who Grandma was, I realize that many parts of me come from her. I may not open juice boxes properly or spit very well, but I sure can wave my hands in the air when running from a moose. I think it’s safe to say that my love of live music, libraries, word derivations, and history I also share with Grandma. And I think that whatever life throws at me, I’ll be able to take it pretty well and continue to laugh. Grandma was a strong woman. She taught me how to do that. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, July 16th, 2006
4:08 pm	Bouncer Dear Friends and Family, First and foremost on my mind is my grandmother, who may have died last night. When I spoke with Mom, she said Grandma was unconscious and probably at the very end. I had Mom hold the phone up so I could say "I love you," which may not seem like a big deal, but I could hardly get the words out. Everyone in Homer has been really supportive and understanding. I had to tell my editor and a bunch of friends that I will now be leaving in early August instead of a month later, as I'd been hoping to stay longer. But family is important, especially now. I went out to breakfast to try to relax. Josh, a guy working on the unfinished apartment where I am currently unrolling my sleeping bag every night, came upstairs at 10:00. I decided to go to Two Sisters Cafe and Bakery. I read the comics from the Sunday Anchorage Daily News and then wrote for a while about Grandma. Carey, my editor, came in with her two-year-old son, Liam, so we talked for a while. Also, I felt a little guilty as noon came and went. I was supposed to go to work today. I called last night and said I couldn't be there. Then, after my manager yelled at me, I sheepishly said, "Ok, I'll be there." I was totally lying and didn't believe it. And I didn't go. I just need to get my last paycheck. I suppose I won't get my tips from last Thursday. Oh well. Everyone loves Homer. I ran into Kelly, who is renting from Mavis, where I was originally staying, and she is leaving in the beginning of August for Seattle. She's trying not to think about dates. I know the feeling. It's hard to think about leaving here because part of me is a little desperate, I think. I want to stay--or at least come back. And really, you never ever know. I may come back next summer. But I may try to go to Italy and work there, or stay at home, or work at a magazine in Chicago. You never know. And I like traveling; that's not the issue. The hard part is leaving such a good thing. The next thing might be just as exciting though. I'm trying to write about Grandma cohesively. It's challenging. I find my mind wanders all over the place. And I need to go find a good coffee shop. I'm in the office right now--bad atmosphere. Life is good though. Live it up. Homer is beautiful and people rock. Love, Marta (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, June 16th, 2006
3:10 am	I love Twitching Sushi 16 June 2006 Casey and I fought the other day. It was kind of a silent battle. There were a few problems, which had all been exaggerated because we’ve both been working and our schedules have made it so we have missed each other for a week. In that time, I have had (Casey has too) stories to write and my days “off” have all been even more full. The first problem, which was totally my fault, is that I owe Casey half the rent for this month, which he covered. I had been counting on a last check from the Stateline News to come, but they sent it home, and late at that. So now I have to wait for it here, which just stinks because I know it’s out there, and I owe Casey that money. But I made $60 in tips last night. The restaurant is picking up—so I think I’ll make it up in another week. The second problem I felt really bad about for 36 hours. Then I stopped being mad at myself and was like, “Hey, Casey is being ridiculous!” So, in short, I eat too much. Yes, I do. It’s true. I ate all the bread, most of the jelly, a jar of peanut butter, the crackers, cans of chicken (according to Casey they are supposed to be at least 3 servings, but that is only 100 calories a pop), and anything else that was opened or leftover. But, in my defense, almost every day I have: biked 10-20+ miles and gone running 30 minutes to 2 hours. After 15 to 20+ miles, I am hungry. At work I run around carrying plates of dirty food and hauling carts of glasses and mugs. I get a cup of soup and bread on my break. Then I bike home, about 9 miles or so I think. So there. I can eat a lot. I bought the next round of groceries and I plan not to pig out, but to refill my lost calories. Jeeze. I told Layton, one of the writers at the Tibune who is from Kansas (amazing, I think) and he ran into his apartment and brought out power bars and brown rice. I was shocked—it was really nice of him. I’d been laughing about the situation kind of and I’d said we had more groceries. But I feel very cared for. Two nights ago was amazing. Layton drove me, with my bike, to work. After work, I headed for the Down East Saloon. Forty-five minutes later, and I was there. Twitching Sushi was playing, and it was the banjo player’s 26th birthday. Johnny Bell. It was kind empty, surprisingly I thought, in the bar, but that meant better listening. And the guys got into their music. Atz, on bass, is simply awesome to watch. And John on guitar is energetic and just wonderful. I bought the special birthday mix cd they made for Bell and finally introduced myself to the band. I really like them, so it was embarrassing. I felt shier than when I said hi to Mr. Eugenides and Chris Hedges, who have both won Pulitzer prizes. But it was good to go up and say, “Hi, I’m Marta, I love hearing you play,” because they all recognize me as the girl who just always shows up. So now we’re on name-terms. English John knows me pretty well. Atz is distant and really cute (and he plays the bass) and Bell seems to be super nice. I ran into him at the post office the other day. So, their third set was great. They played a new song about going home. Then they ended with the World Cup countdown song. It was 3:something am. The soccer World Cup was starting soon. So they had a special song for it and then kept going, which is the best ever! They’d look at each other, nod about switching to D minor, then to G or whatever, and keep going. Wow! Almost at the end, they were joking around about the little windup sushi toys they have in front of their mics and wanted someone to wind them up. So I jumped off of my seat, wound them up, and watched the sushi spin—or twitch, rather. I ran back to my seat and ordered a Guiness. Stuff like that embarrasses me. Mostly because I like the band so much. My gosh, they are amazing—this new cd is great! Also notable: I danced with a total redneck drunkard scum named Jeremy. One of the creepiest people I have ever met. I also danced with a very nice man named John. Layton bought me a drink when I got to the bar after biking. And today we’re leaving (I hope) on a sailboat with a bunch of people to go to a music festival in Seldovia, somewhere across the Bay. Whoot!!!! Love, Marta (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 10th, 2006
3:05 am	Of love and Mountains 10 June 2006 Hello! I am now in Homer, Alaska. I’m sitting at a little table in the back of my cabin, looking out over Kachemak Bay and the mountains, which are shrouded in dark, rainy clouds. The snow line has receded much since I first got here. There is an old VW van, painted a lilac purple, just outside the front door and a flock of sandhill cranes always gathers around in the field here. When they fly in, their legs dangle and they kind of just hang from their wings. It’s pretty cool looking. I am working as a busser at the restaurant at the very end of the spit: Land’s End. It’s an overpriced, pretentious place and the owners also own the condos that are ruining the spirit of the spit, in my opinion. I don’t know how long I’ll last. If I could be a server at a restaurant in town, I would be much happier (and my legs would be less tired; I bike everywhere). But the people who work at Land’s End are real—I mean, they’re chill Homerites through and through. A few of us take turns sharing the shower because we don’t have running water. There are two newspapers in town. The Homer News, which is older and owned by Morris Corporation, and the Homer Tribune, which I am writing for. It’s younger, owned by one woman, and has less money (of course). I don’t think there is actually much of a difference between the coverage. The Homer News gets printed on really nice paper though and we have to use the cheap stuff _ But I get free range over my stories and am meeting really cool people. My editor, Carey James, went to Northfield Mount Hermon for three years before returning to her home in Nova Scotia. She paid her own way to go, too, which I find really admirable. I’d be paying off loans forever! My first story came out last week: Pier One Theatre starts full, diverse season. It was just a preview article about the plays at the local theatre. I have two stories due Monday—one about a nature center and one about the writers’ conference. So—the Kachemak Bay Writers’ Conference: I get to cover it and get in for free. Other people are paying $300. Jeeze. It’s awesome: Jeffrey Eugenides, Pulitzer-prize winning author of “Middlesex” and “The Virgin Suicides,” is the keynote speaker. I got to serve him coffee the other day. He signed his book for me (I had bought a copy with the last of my cash _) and we talked about Illinois for a second. He had a babysitter in Poland named Marta. The same morning, just an hour or so later, I was pouring water for a curly white-haired man. A younger man with the same hair, only black, and a pretty young girl were also at the table. “What’s the biggest shark here?” the black haired guy asked. “I don’t know,” I replied. “I just got here two weeks ago. I’m still trying to learn all the fish.” “Do you know how to call fish?” the man asked. Simultaneously, we both answered the question: “Here fishy-fishy-fishy.” Puckered lips and all. It was Arlo Guthrie’s son. Arlo Guthrie was sitting right there. I think he laughed as I picked up my water jug and walked away to refill it. I ran into them again this morning getting coffee at a little café in town. Much better atmosphere than Land’s End. I’ve seen two whale fins from the deck of Land’s End. Lots of otters (oh, they’re sooo cute) and a few logs that we’ve all mistaken for other water creatures until a quick glance through binoculars corrects us. The guys in Homer are numerous, mostly single, quirky, a little rugged and weird, and just plain hot. I’m serious. These guys are so cute. I’ve gone out with a few guys. One is too weird…he’s nice, really smart (went to Dartmouth and knows New Hampshire), but too intro/retrospective for me. I’m actually about to go running and then stop by the Down East Saloon, which is only a mile from my cabin, to listen to Three-Legged Mule, one of the awesome bands in town. Really great music: twangy, bluegrassy, folksy, humorous, and instrumentally excellent. They can jam. Two of the guys are also in Twitching Sushi, whom I also go to see practically every night. The bassist (upright) is Jewel’s brother. They are all great musicians and it bothers me to mention his relation to her because he’s great on his own and is probably sick of the association. But they do a good twist on one of her songs mixed with one of Oasis’. I got to see my first glacier last weekend. Went over across the Bay with Casey, my roommate, to do trail work in exchange for a cheap roundtrip taxi ferry ride. Wow. The ice chunks that had broken off, floating in a lake, were blue as plastic tarps and we saw a bear swim across the lake. By the way, I have almost run into two moose biking back from late nights at work—after midnight late. The yearlings are out and are dopey. They just sit in the middle of the road and I am afraid I’ll not see the dark, gloomy shadow one night—eeek! I’d rather run into a moose than a bear, I think. A runner was just mauled by a bear up the road (about 20 miles up the road, don’t worry). He played dead, which probably saved him. Ok, I must go run now. It’s about 10:00 pm but still light out. Chilly and windy, but I think I’ll run for 40 minutes, stop at the bar and listen to music, and come home. I have to be up at 7:30ish to bike to work (ah…it gets sooo windy on the spit) for 9:00. Out at five. Man, they don’t even need me in the morning. I’m just going to spend my first hour of work on a coffee there anyway. We get 20% off in the espresso shop, which is ok, but not enough, according to me. I am totally in love. I love this place. The cold is a little difficult, but I think with running water and the ability to wash in warm water, that would be slightly easier. I love the land here—the mountains are so intense and pure and untouched, completely wild. I love this little town; I want to save it—it’s being bought up by rich retirees from California who want shopping places and big houses. Don’t they know that’s what they’re trying to leave behind?! That is why they like Homer, and they are ruining it?! I love the animals here—and the cute guys. And the creative flow of energy; it is amazing and active. So many artists and writers (not just because of that conference) and very cool people. I hope to start writing something of my own. What about, well, that remains to be seen (or, thought out rather). Peace, Marta (Comment on this)
Saturday, April 29th, 2006
1:35 pm	Dear Friends and Family, It's sprinkling softly outside. The raindrops are scattered and slow, but they've covered the ground, making the pavement walkways and the grass a little darker than their natural colors. There is some Arabic hip-hop bouncing off the walls of the gym, and I kind of want to dance. I'm about to start studying Chinese, but I thought I'd try to write a little bit and say hello. The track team is competing in the Wisconsin Private College Championships today, but my right foot and leg are killing me. I just got the right orthotic readjusted Wednesday; I don't want to run on it until next week. It was kind of sad saying goodbye to everyone at breakfast as they went off to the bus. Eck said I should come along--I was already awake. But I really have to study, especially if I want to race next Saturday. Summer plans are always exciting. I recently made a pie graph of what I think as a percentage of my day (this was done in Macroeconomics one morning). I found that "the future," which includes summer planning, class schedule for next semester, life goals, ideas for jobs, and things I need to do soon (like fix my bicycle brakes) constitute a very large portion of my awake-thinking time. I think I think about the future maybe 30% of my time. I found this disturbing; I would rather concentrate on the present and be fully conscious of what's happening around me in the moment. It's one of my goals to reorient my thinking to achieve this. But I am psyched about summer and the warmer months! My plans so far consist of going to Alaska, visiting my roommate Becca for a week, and then going to Homer and working at the newspaper there and working. Woohoo! Homer is a sweet little city on the southern coast of Alaska. It's known for halibut fishing and its spit, a five-mile piece of land that juts out into the sea. What makes this even cooler is that (knock on wood) I think that Tom might come! I haven't really lived with him for a loooong time and we never get to hang out, even when I'm home on vacations. So, if he comes, we can rent a little place in town together, work, and chill. I can't wait!                                                      I have to get to Alaska quickly to secure jobs, but I do want to see the family and the dogs and horses. It has been very strange to hear about all the events surrounding Grandma and not be able to go and see her. I admire everyone in Michigan for taking care of each other. I wish I could give everyone a hug over the phone, or something. So, I'll be glad to get back to see the nuclear family along with Granddad and Grandma and all the uncles, cousins, and other extended family. It's time to begin studying Chinese, but I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the last bit of April. Love, Marta P.S. Some of my stories that I've written for the Stateline News are online at: www.communityshoppers.com I think they are under "archives." I wrote one about Frisbee that should be there (they may have taken it off already), as well as "From Mars to Beloit." (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 10th, 2006
3:05 pm	Knee patterns Dear friends and family, This is written after the fact, and I will only take the time now to explain the picture... We raced at UW-Oshkosh (can you believe there's really an Oshkosh?!) on a brand new mondo-surface track. The sun was bright; the air was crisp, and I was going to run the steeplechase. The steeplechase is an old English race, which originally was run exactly as it sounds: from church steeple to church steeple, over haybales, bushes, fences, water, and whatever else was in the way. Today, on a track, it is 3000 meters of fun. There are four "barriers"--two on each long stretch of the track. These are wooden hurdles that do not budge if one is unfortunate enough to run into them or trip on the way over. Then, on the inside of one end of the track, there is the Water Pit.   This is an infamous and sometimes devious and nasty little element that adds a twist to the race. Not only do runners jump a barrier here, they must push off of the barrier and try to get over a pit filled with water. The pit is angled so that when one lands it's like she is going uphill. Beloit's track lacks, well, everything, so we do not have a pit to practice on. Instead we jump over a barrier into sand to practice. It was the first day of racing on the Oshkosh track. In honor of this initiation into the world of NCAA competition, the Water Pit was filled with goldfish. The American flag whipped in the wind. My legs felt like they were filled with water on the warmup. I shrugged the lethargic feeling off, but a little voice in my head nagged at me: 'Marta, do you really have the energy and umph to jump over all those barriers today?' I had been running for the past two weeks with only two days of training in the pool. This was the most I'd run consecutively in a year. After a few strides and prancing around the football field in the center of the track, I went up to the line with the five other girls in the race. The NCAA just opened the steeplechase to women a few years ago--maybe four--so very few girls compete in it. Four of the six girls on the line were Beloiters. We were the very first race of the day. When the gun went off, we had 200 meters of flat track without barriers. Then they began. And then we had to cut in and cross the narrow end of the track to jump the Water Pit. I'm determined; I'm determined; I'm going to attack this hurdle, determined...I'm Ahhhhhh!!!! I almost stopped completely before reaching the barrier. I jumped onto it, and tried to push off but had lost essential momentum. As I fell into the water, I yelled. The crowd gasped. My legs and past my belly button became drenched in water. But I emerged from the water, feet numb, and laughed. The crowd laughed too. The race went on well for a few laps. Then, after the Water Pit--maybe on lap 4 or 5--my legs felt cold and dead. And on the next barrier I knicked the top, tripped and fell. It caught me off guard, but I jumped right back up. Alas, after a few more laps, I fell really, really hard on the barrier before the Water Pit. I landed right on my knee and my chin smacked the mondo-surface. Dizzy, cold, and feeling pretty embarassed, I dropped out. I didn't think that my legs could get me over the Water Pit again. I only had 600 meters to go. Alan and Stan saw me fall, no one else. I bonked, slammed, crunched. The mondo-surface pattern stayed on my right knee for the rest of the week. The lines were purple. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 3rd, 2006
11:18 pm	Big Bertha Hello Everyone! Today was one of the best days of the year! After a full day of classes and studying and some China-related stress (argh), I got to practice in time to hear Joe say, "You look like you dressed warm enough for today!" The sun was high, bright and shiny all day. I had long purple leggings, a polypropelene top, and a blue windbreaker on; if anything, I would be hot. Then, it dawned on me. I raced back to my room and told Ally to go get warmer layers too. I put on some wool socks, some long underwear, a wool hat, and a few warm top layers and ran back to the gym in time for the team gathering. "Everyone, go get a hat and some warm clothes," Eckburg said. "I'll see you all at WalMart in a few minutes." And off we went, running down the road, credit cards in hands (well, pockets, actually). We got to WalMart in a half-hour, where Poetzl (our lovely assistant coach) and Eckburg were busy inflating rafts. I spotted the infamous "A & M -- 2005." That was the boat Akane and I used last year. Akane graduated, so Ally was going to be my partner. Alas, the A & M had suffered a puncture and would not inflate. We had to spend a few bucks at WalMart. But instead of buying a two-person raft, Ally and I thought of something better. Much better. The only name for it could be "Big Bertha." We tried others: Sleeping Beauty, Here's Lookin' at You Kid, Rest in Peace, The Princess and the Pee. (Yes, Pee.) But the width and the mass called out "Big Bertha." Thus it was. And beautiful and soft. The air-mattress said "outdoor use" on the side. Well, after running through the woods and being chased by the City Council President Marty Densch, we found a good level spot along the river bank to get in. Although our teammates were at first skeptical, they soon expressed envy and slight astonishment. Our queen-size mattress glided smoothly over the ripples of Turtle Creek; our plastic toy hoe and rake served well as paddles. We laid back and looked up at the thin, bare tree branches overhead, spreading like spiderwebs against a deep blue sky. We could see buds just starting to peek out, and a few silver shots of airplanes passing overhead caught our eyes. A few mallards quacked loudly and flew across the river as a shot rang out. Most of the team had bought snacks of some kind. When we reached the side of Uriel's one-person raft we petitioned him for cookies, which he kindly gave us. Big Bertha spun around a few times, slowly, and other floating runners drifted by. "Are you wet?" everyone with soaking bottoms asked us. "No," we replied. "Well, maybe a few drops down the arms." Then, about three-quarters of the way through, we heard screams around the corner ahead. Paddling faster in anticipation of some disaster, we saw an intense struggle ensuing: Ryan's raft was trapped under an enormous tree that had fallen across a rapid part of the creek. Ryan was standing on top of one of the branches, trying to heave his little raft out of the water. Further downstream, we saw Rachel, sweet and quiet, and completely soaked. The river had sucked her and her raft completely under the tree. She had survived, wet, cold, and laughing. In the meantime Big Bertha accelerated and sped toward inevitable destruction: a protruding stick! We tried desperately to turn our mattress, but failed. Ryan kind of pushed us away from the branch, but I think we poked a hole there. As air left Bertha, our hopes of arriving back to school dry deflated too. But we got out and carried Bertha over the log and got back on. Although we seemed to sink a little more than before, she rode the waves gracefully and proudly. We even passed Eckburg, standing in a tree growing over the river. His raft seemed to have escaped him for a moment, so he grabbed the nearest branch he could see. Coming to the end of our voyage and deflating Bertha so that we could carry her home held tones of melancholy for me and Ally, even though we were looking forward to warmth and food. We walked back to campus, holding Big Bertha between us as the guys jogged past, dripping and moving stiltedly in the cold. By the time we reached Poetzl's, where we dropped off Bertha, Eckburg had gone back to WalMart and picked up his car, which is where we had stashed our inflatable pillows. We jogged home and put a pot of water on the stovetop, ate a few bowls of spaghetti, and washed the muddy, slimy smells off in the shower. We'll hose Big Bertha off tomorrow, find any holes, and patch them. She'll be ready for Turtle Creek again in no time. Love, Marta (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 2nd, 2006
7:16 pm	Decisions, decisions Dear Friends and Family,  I hope you are all enjoying the first days of April. It is raining in Beloit right now, which is wonderful. We had a cold, wet track meet at Ripon yesterday. I ran the 800m. Didn't do too well and was frustrated, but as Eckburg said, "Hey, when was the last time you ran 14 days straight without pain?" ....about a year ago. So, I'm still trying to recover and get to a competitive point. It's taking forever.  Last week was stressful. I had to decide about whether or not to go to China for the Fall semester. The problem with the Fall is mostly social: my friends are all going abroad in the Spring and Cross-country is in the Fall. So imagining coming back to empty faces on the team and in everyday life is disappointing. Also, I am not sure about going for a whole year. I applied for a government scholarship for the whole year, but I am afraid I can't do a whole year because of credit requirements and because, well, quite frankly I only get four years here and I love it here. I had made up my mind to stay for the Fall and then take a vacation term, which I can do because I already have junior standing, and do something in China on my own, maybe even with the universities that Beloit has recently forged connections with. It was really hard to decide, but I tried to let the decision come on its own without my forcing it. Then, I got two separate e-mails from Mom and Dad: "What are you doing with your life?" "Are you taking things for granted?" "Jobs and responsibilities will get in the way." "Are you staying for someone?"  I was very surprised to get the messages. I understand, I think, where they are coming from. It's hard to travel when you are older. College makes it easier. But I was offended by the idea that I would stay here for a guy. Actually, if I were staying for people, it would be Ally and Rachel; we've been writing together and in a creative groove. I feel like we're cutting off a whole year of being together and writing. I know our experiences will expand our views but it's hard to let go of such a productive, good thing. Or I would be staying for the team, the entire team, because I love them. Actually, the idea staying for a guy is gross and the "guy" thing is a little stressful. The guy that I was with over the summer was a complete jerk during the beginning of the year, but hard to avoid because he studies Chinese too. And he decided to go on the Beloit program in the Fall, even though he'll already have graduated. The stress came because of this: There are only two cities they are sending us to. Two or three students will be in Kaifeng, three in Jinan. My teacher said he pictured Lorenzo and me in Kaifeng because it's harder linguistically and psychologically; we would literally be the only Americans in the University--2 Americans in a city of about 5 million. There would be some foreigners, of course, but likely these would be engineers and such working on development projects. Overall, Kaifeng seems like a challenging place and I would love to be there with Lorenzo. But then summer-guy was like, "Hey, Marta. So, we're going to be hanging out in Kaifeng together next year." What?!  I think not.  I am not going to let a guy get in the way of my experience, but I do sincerely hope that he goes to the other city. It would be a lot less stressful.  I'm signed up for the Beloit program now, and whatever happens will be great. I think that China will be an enormous change, especially going to a rural, poor city like Kaifeng. I should be able to just get over him and not care, but I think being stuck in the same context 24/7 might be awkward.  Anyway, my mind is on papers and homework. I haven't written anything story-wise this week due to stress. I'm waiting to hear back from a little newspaper in Homer, Alaska. I sent in some clips and a resume, hoping to work there for the summer. My last story on the new coverage of the municipal courts on live TV was in the paper today. It was pretty sweet to see that byline..."Marta Casey, for the Stateline News." It's not my own writing--content I mean--but the stories will come, I hope. Stringing stories keeps me going, anyway. Take care everyone. I hope to post more exciting news later.  Love, Marta  P.S. Here's a little Neil Young. I actually don't feel too strongly about this boy here at Beloit, but I like the song a lot: "Pardon My Heart" It's a fallen situation When all eyes are turned in And a love isn't flowing The way it could have been. You brought it all on Oh, but it feels so wrong You brought it all on No, no, no, I don't believe this song You brought it all on. It's a sad communication With little reason to believe When one isn't giving And one pretends to receive. You brought it all on Oh, but it feels so wrong You brought it all on No, no, no, I don't believe this song You brought it all on. Pardon my heart If I showed that I cared But I love you more than moments We have or have not shared. You brought it all on Oh, and it feels so good You brought it all on When love flows the way that it should You brought it all on. It feels so good It feels so good You feel good. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 14th, 2006
12:31 pm	A few rhymes 3 March 2006 (written in Monmouth, IL after first day of conference):  Horses in a paddock, letters on the page, Pulsing in my mind, but not in outrage. Feet hitting pavement, lungs opened up. Then a sight through some trees and a giant hiccup! The burp stays in my throat but I keep pushing on like a clown in a grocery store or Russins digging in a lawn. I think I might burst or maybe implode I just need to know something and I can't get the code. Maybe you can tell me, but I don't know what to ask. Sometimes actions are conductors; sometimes moments just pass. (same night, same place, looking at a Hi-C juicebox): http://www.gono.com/museum2003/museum%20collect%20info/hi-c/h12.jpg Contains 10% fruit juice, berry red, orange and yellow. Melon bouncing through a sugar shower, a ripe, fresh little fellow. My mind is panting like a greyhound at a race, thoughts swirling in a mist and I can't slow the pace. Why this need for contentment? Why this paradigm of peace? The world f*cks itself crazy, movement through everything underneath. The Greeks said dualism, though in Nous all was one. I think the fruit guys have it right just tumbling and having fun. (Comment on this)
Saturday, March 11th, 2006
10:21 am	Totally Amazing Woke up an hour late at 7:30 am-- flight leaving at 9:00 am--AH!  Kissed and hugged goodbye, taxi to Newark--wallet emptied.   Flight delayed anyway, good thing we slept in :)  Flight to Chicago arrives early, made bus to Beloit on time!  Call Eckburg, show is sold-out. Should have bought tickets earlier... (oh...)  Beg Rachel, get her car speed off to Milwaukee anyway.  Call Eckburg--can he try? Oh man, he got two of the last tickets!!! Find the street, Eck hops in, find a parking spot, perfect.  Time for a Guiness, then into the show-- New Pornographers sounding fine. Then, oh man, here they come-- can you believe we made it?  Taxi, plane, bus, car...feet-- from New York to Milwaukee.  Belle and Sebastian were totally amazing: "If you're feeling sinister..."  A few new ones...and end..."Judy dreams of horses." And a short encore.  Oh, life. (Comment on this)
Friday, March 10th, 2006
8:19 am	Spring Break! Dear Friends and Family, I just read the comments that Anna, Margaret and Taehee put up. I'm happy people are actually reading this! I will try to make it interesting and worth your time. The first thing I want to tell you about is spring break, which was amazing. Backtracking even further though, I think I should tell you about my really crushing week before break; I didn't run in Indoor Conference. It was one of the most frustrating weeks ever. My shins have been bad all year and I just started running again this winter. None of my races were what they should have been and I was slower than last year in some cases. It was pretty hard not to be bitter and try to avoid the rest of the team that week. I felt like a phony running with them. They were racers; I was not. I didn't talk to Eckburg (my coach) for a few days, which is saying a lot because talking to him always cheers me up. I didn't lose it like I did after not running Cross Country Conference. In the fall I didn't run because I am a sophomore and seniors have priority. That was a status thing. I'd had some great races and felt cheated by not running Cross Country Conference. This time, I just hadn't run fast enough. It was fair, but hard to take. But after being bitter for a day, I remembered how I'd won the sportsmanship award in fourth grade on the baseball team. That's who I want to be: a cheerful, forgiving and forward-thinking team player. Sometimes we just have to find more of ourselves I guess. I helped out timing laps for everyone else and wrote some cheesy poetry, which I'll add as another entry. It was a mixed-bag; some people ran great, like Lana and Joe, and others were very flat. One benefit from timing laps instead of running them is that you can see the anatomy of a race. I could see where people either break down or dig deeper, trusting in their training and their desire to win and race hard. All you have is you. After conference, the team headed to Panama City, Florida for a spring break full of debauchery and sand castles. Ally and I headed back to snowy Wisconsin with Eckburg. We listened to some Iron Maiden and old Eric Clapton. Spring break: Anna kindly drove us to the Ramada Inn for our bus to Chicago at six in the morning. Flying into New York we just nodded to each other as the skyscrapers came into view. The absence of the twin towers is really astonishing. They were the first thing I noticed about New York when I visited Judy as a twelve year-old. Ally is from Portland, Oregon. It was her first time in New York and really on the East Coast in general. Rachel also came. She's from Connecticut and her family used to vacation in the city. Judy was still moving into her new office that Sunday, so we let ourselves into her apartment and cleaned up a little. The dogs, Lily and Mattie, greeted us crazily with kisses and intense optimism and hope that we would play ball with them all day. I had a Saturday edition of the New York Times, so we started scouring the pages for shows and art activities to see throughout the week. There were about three things that we wanted to do for every night. Judy took us out to a fabulous Italian restaurant a few blocks away. It was very cool to get reacquainted with her and catch up a little. I think it's really interesting to watch how relatives interact and talk. I like talking to Judy now as a twenty-one year-old because she knew me when I was three, seven, eleven, thirteen, etc. Because she only saw me once or twice a year, at Christmas and sometimes during the summer, those times are like time-photographs that she can share with me. I feel this about my other aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Putting all those separate memories with each relative creates a kind of personal family history, which I really like getting to know. Then, our city adventures commenced: Monday: Museum of Modern Art, wonderful dinner in Chinatown (we just did restaurant vocabulary in class...but most of the words escaped me, of course). I also bought an orange reporter-esque jacket at H&M. MoMA had a special exhibit on Munch, the painter who did "The Scream." His other paintings showed his versatility and depth of subject matter. Many of his paintings explored relations between men and women, love, and what really connects people from their own inner minds to what is happening around them.     <--"Evening on Karl Johan" by Munch      <-- we also saw Van Gogh's "Starry Night" Tuesday: an exhibit about Bodies--like Body Worlds with real bodies molded and shaped to show everything! We went to the Brooklyn Bridge and walked along the river and through the park. We also visited Ground Zero. There was a man there with a plastic jug around his neck filled with coins and dollar bills. "Learn your history," he was saying. "Two towers, more than that." We thought he was a conspiracy theorist at first, but then it became apparent that he had no real point. I think maybe someone he knew was in the towers. He had a photo album with personal pictures showing the towers still standing. Maybe he just wants people to remember. At night we went to Tonic and saw a group from Vermont called Feathers. Chanting and experimental music--eight people and they rotated the instruments they played for each song. Then The Black from Austin, Texas played. Ally loved them and had the band members sign the CD we bought. I really like the CD now that I've listened to it more. Feathers had a song about an old highway in New Hampshire, which was pretty sweet. Wednesday: A quiet, sleep-in morning and then off to the MET, which is overwhelming. I liked some of the modern art in the MET actually. We ate at an organic pizza place, Slice, that Ally knew about from watching the food network. We went to Brooklyn to hear Tone Collector, a jazz group. They were incredible. I had a pint of the local Brooklyn beer on tap. Pretty tasty. Thursday: Ally left to see her family for the weekend (wow). Rachel and I went out for breakfast at a little Greek cafe on Columbia, just a block from Judy's apartment. We decided to head over to the Whitney Museum of American Art. The Whitney turned out to be my favorite museum that we visited this week. It is really one of the first museums to try to have a collection of "American" art and I think it succeeds. A lot of the artwork was abstract and modern, but I loved it. Sometimes modern art can be a little too vague and subjective for me, but the pieces we saw related to outside issues and broader themes. In the middle of one room there was a covered wagon, the kind that Laura Ingalls Wilder went west in. It had some modern features to it though, and the twist made the theme relate to adventure today. It made me wonder about what the new "West" is for us. There was also an amazing short film that was an imaginary trailer for a fake remake of Gore Vidal's "Caligula." Caligula was one of the most perverse, sick, evil emperors of Rome. The short film played into this and made viewers think about government and how it has (or has not) changed in 2,000 years. I also loved the permanent collection on the fourth floor: Edward Hopper, Charles Sheerer, Andy Warhol, Georgia O'Keefe...There was one painting by Edward Hopper entitled "Seven, a.m.," which really intrigued me. It's of a porch, and there's a clock on a wall, woods in the background. Just a quiet morning. I also loved his "Sunday Morning" painting. Thursday night Judy took me and Rachel to an amazing Italian restaurant where actors from the Sopranos like to eat. We had some mushroom brick oven pizza and ravioli before scampering off down the road to... the Knitting Factory! A great club in NY, famous for all the musicians that have gotten their start in this small, intimate, but energized venue. We went to see Tea Leaf Green, whom I saw in Chicago at the Abbey pub just a month ago. They are a jam band, but their chords hold an edge and the singer has a voice that resonates almost like a blues singer. Their lyrics are also positive and about life, but it's not cheesy. It just rocks.  "I'll butter your toast/with a rusty spoon..." and "sit on a fence, spit in the wind..." I've done that before :) We got back at 2:30 am or so. Even though we took our shoes and jackets outside and tiptoed in through the door, a floorboard creaked and the dogs barked. Dammit. Friday: Friday I honestly don't remember much of what happened. Rachel and I just went walking I think. We were museumed-out. We explored Chinatown and Little Italy for a bit. Oh--we went to Broadway and the theater district. I had a special mission: Mission Birthday Invitation. One of my friends at Beloit, Glenda, lived with a dancer in NY over the summer. It was just Glenda's birthday, so she gave me one of her invitations to hand to her friend in NY. We went over for a glass of water and talked about art for a while, then her friend gave me a book for Glenda. I love the feeling of being an intermediary, a medium for such an exchange. After some Thai food with Judy, Rachel and I went to the Rodeo Bar and listened to a little country band from Pennsylvania, Frog Holler. Peanut shells covered the floors and crunched underfoot. The band had excellent lyrics and was twangy, but not achy-breaky-heart twangy. We bought a CD and had the band sign it. We left at midnight, hoping to get home early. Alas, the subway train didn't come for over an hour, and then we had to switch trains and got stuck waiting again. So we walked. In the meantime, I wrote a poem...I'll share those in a separate entry. This is already ridiculously long, and I have to write about the next day, 3/11, which was absolutely incredible. We had an awesome vacation and loved hanging out with Judy and exploring the city. I also got to see a friend from high school who goes to Barnard. She's really from Vermont, but she's doing the New York thing and is even a nanny. Goodbye for now, Marta (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, February 19th, 2006
12:25 am	Under 13:00 We just returned from a track meet in Platteville, WI. Although it was small and low-key with only a few teams, I was really nervous. Eckburg put me in the 3K. After both previous 3Ks, I felt they were my worst races. I like the 800m and the 10K. The 5K's good too, but the 3K just seems so middle and uninteresting, monotone or something. And last week I ran a really, really slow and frustrating 3K. So I had to get back at it.  I was assigned number 13. Eckburg had my seed time as 12:43. Last week I ran a 13:50 or something (really horrible). I was aiming for 51 splits every 200m. It was a great race--I actually felt like I was running (last week I felt like I was still in the pool)--and I kept my splits at about 51. I slipped up in the last K, but I had a decent kick. Karl, our trusty timer and assistant coach, said he was worried about me making it under 13:00, then he saw me pick it up the last lap and knew I made it. I felt strong today, too.  Final time: 12:55--woo--just under the 13:00 mark. My goal is to get under 12:00 in this race. That would be 6:15 pace I think. Ally ran a 22:09 5K. She didn't run on the inside line on the corners, which probably added those 9 seconds. She and I are trying to build up after injuries--me, shins; Ally, knees.  Joe ran an amazing mile--just under 4:30. It was great because he and a Platteville guy were even until about 3 laps to go, then Joe just kicked it up ten notches and flew!  Lana ran under 6:00 in the mile--a 5:53. That's my next goal. She ran a 12:23 in the 3K last week.  Nigel threw up right before running the 4x400m. A guy from Platteville running the meet got angry. Jeeze. Then Nigel ran wonderfully.  Other exciting events today: I made Eckburg a sandwich. He had to go to his grandfather's--GRANDfather's--wedding. I think that's really cool that his gpa is getting married. Anyway, Eck had to leave early so he tapped me to make him a quick lunch. You should know that Eckburg is amazing and runs insanely everyday. He's training for another 100 mile race this summer. And he just had surgery on his esophagus this week! He's crazy. My point is, he'll eat practically anything. So I used two tortilla wraps and filled them with ham, peanut butter, and an entire banana. Maybe with honey it would have been good. Eck has been known to put humus, peanut butter, bananas, and meat on the same sandwich. So, maybe it was good to him. Anyway, I was rather skeptical.  Becca, my roomie, is in Baltimore this weekend at a conference representing the Jewish group on campus. I LOVE having a single! Man, it's really hard to live with someone for an entire year. I miss privacy, space, and quiet. There's a concert event tonight with about 5 bands, but I kind of want to chill here and enjoy the space. I know I want to go out though. I'm sooo much more productive when I have the room to myself. I don't have to talk to anyone or listen and I don't feel guilty or rude for doing so and just doing homework or reading. Ah. But Becca is great, and it's almost vacation.  Good day. Time to cut out articles from the past week of NY Times and Wall Street Journals that I wanted to read. This week was crazy--eek! No time! And as soon as I catch up with work--finals.  Oh boy!  Ciao, Marta (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 17th, 2006
7:24 pm	First Entry Hello, This is my first entry on livejournal. I'm going to try to do this as a way to keep up with friends and family faraway. Today I went around singing "California Stars." It was written by Woody Gutherie but never recorded until his daughter gave the lyrics to Billy Bragg and some guys from Wilco. I love that song. I also went to get fitted for othotics in Janesville. I'm very excited to begin running again. Training in the pool is tough. I just want to run! Tomorrow I'm running the 3k. I'm going to try to beat 12:30. Love, Marta (1 Comment |Comment on this)