March 28, 2006
10 Years
When I was in college, before the dawn of the digital camera or the camera phone or the iPod camera phone or anything else that they come up with, I was still the girl who was always taking a million photographs. (Even then I was big on self portraits.)
It's amazing to me, looking back through them all now, that those captured images, as delicate and fragile as they were waiting there on that roll of film, made it out of the camera without being lost or destroyed or exposed. We weren't always of sound mind, and even though I have the pictures to prove it, I don't necessarily remember always carting a camera with me or asking people to stop so I could take their picture.
My roommate Kim and I loved our scrapbooks and it was always a fun day when I would get prints back from the photo lab Uptown and could get to work sticking them in my books. Our scrapbooks were so mythical, in fact, that when Kim got married in 2003 and I knew my former roommate Bridget was going to be there (a girl I hadn't seen since graduation day 1998), I packed my junior/senior year book in my suitcase for the trip to Cleveland.
When I pulled it out of my bag Bridget bounded over to me and squealed and we sat on the bed and poured over it. She took it back to Chicago with her to show her then boyfriend and I finally, finally got it back yesterday.
Last night I flipped through it page by page and memories and names and people and places hit me in a rush.
I hardly recognize myself in some of the pictures, like this one, even though in some ways I look older then than I do now.
This photo was taken at my boyfriend's fraternity formal and my eyes are glassy from too much champagne and my smile is wide from new love (and too many glasses of champagne). We'd only been dating a few weeks here, but like most college relationships that blossom in close quarters, we were already fully in it. We had a class together that met three times a week and he would make the short walk from his fraternity house to my off-campus apartment almost nightly. We set my roommate Dana up with one of his brothers for the formal and the four of us drove down to Cincinnati together. I realize now how annoying that must have been for the other hotel guests, an avalanche of college students playing dress up in cocktail attire and sport jackets, whose only real mission was to get as drunk as possible amid different scenery. But we thought we were grown up in our dresses and ties, making toasts with champagne flutes that were engraved with the fraternity's letters and the year.
We thought we were special when we were really just same.
I thought my relationship with him was special, it was to me, but looking back now it was just that college romance that everyone has, if they're lucky. We fought and yelled and made up and held hands on the slantwalk. He took me for granted and I broke up with him via telephone during summer break so that I could make out with a football player.
The road from 20 to 30 has been long, and chronicled, but when I look at this photo it seems like I somehow blinked from there to here. From her to me. Like if I wasn't more careful, I might have missed it.
Posted by hannah at 05:03 PM | Comments (2)
March 23, 2006
Denial
Sarah just said I'm experiencing "Fat Denial Happiness," because I refuse to get on the scale and I'm in a good mood about it.
To which I replied, Darn Skippy.
Posted by hannah at 10:18 AM | Comments (3)
March 21, 2006
Particular
When I was home for Christmas, my grandmother asked me when I was going to hurry up and have a baby and name it after her. I laughed and told her I was trying, but that I hadn't found anyone yet.
"You're just too particular," she said. "You and your cousin. Stop being so picky." I laughed and told her that I didn't think being particular was my problem - it was more that I just couldn't find anyone who acted right. (Ackrite, y'all.)
About a month later, when I was in Texas, I recounted this story to my father and he said, "Next time you talk to Jo tell her you're not being too particular - you're just trying to find someone your dad won't have to kill."
Posted by hannah at 05:05 PM | Comments (5)
March 20, 2006
Anniversary
An e-mail from my mother:
It was 41 years ago I married your father. I was remembering the day and all that happened. Early that morning Grandma Jean got up early and took a long walk with my bridesmaid June. I can see them red faced coming in the door at Mom & Dads. It was cold that morning! There was much excitement. Thinking back Me-Me handled it all very well. She cooked and cleaned the whole week before and I never heard her complain about anything. Jo Ellen helped her decorate the house. They were all worried about the Doctor and his Wife fitting in with the farmers and the small unassuming wedding. It all went well, it was a lovely day, everyone was so happy. Janie cried during the whole ceremony, the front of her green dress was covered with water marks! Your Daddy was so handsome, he took my breath away. The hallway at 329 South St. was filled with gifts!! Bubby teased me all day, I can still see his "wink" when he saw me come down the aisle.
And I can still feel Pa-Pa's big hand on my arm and hand as he walked me down. He patted my hand and smiled at me as if to say "It's okay." I miss so many people.
" For you have a new life. It was not passed on to you from your parents, for the life they gave you will fade away. this one will last forever, for it comes from Christ, God's ever-lasting Message to men." 1 Peter 1:23 TLB
Posted by hannah at 09:15 AM | Comments (1)
March 16, 2006
Go Team
I am not that cool girl who sits at the bar with the guys cheering on the Falcons or the Oilers or whomever. I understand the basics of most games, but I have no idea what foul the ref is about to call or what that crazy arm move means.
I like going to games, any type of game, but it's always more about the experience (the beer, the food, the community, the shared experience of cheering for something honest and real) than it is about the action on the court or the field or the ice.
That said, every March when the madness fever starts to spread, I catch it. I haven't watched five seconds, let alone five minutes, of any NCAA basketball game this season, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to play.
I'm participating in two pools, one of them for money, and I've already check Yahoo! Sports (shout-out to Mark) a half dozen times. And I almost had a stroke when I saw the Boston College game was in its second overtime.
So yeah, I don't know who won the 1961 World Series or why Joe Namath was a great quarterback, but I have the madness just the same. Go team.
Posted by hannah at 03:19 PM | Comments (8)
March 15, 2006
Gimme Back
Five years ago I was standing at an outdoor show at South By Southwest in Austin, Texas listening to Slobberbone rock out “Gimme Back my Dog.” I was intoxicated with spring and Shiner and love and I kissed a boy I probably had no business kissing. I’ve always sort of blamed Slobberbone for that, but I mostly blame the Ides of March. (And the fact that I was 25.)
But that day (and that kiss) stands out as one of the few moments in life where your mind still sees all the details – the pink flowers growing in the rock, the way the sunset filled the sky. I was wearing a black t-shirt from Express, A&F jeans and flip-flops. There was free beer on tap and my hair was long. It was a record company show where we got in thanks to our names on a list, and it was just one show among dozens that we saw that weekend, but it was by far the most memorable. Because it was 2001 I was the only one with a cell phone, and Chris kept borrowing it to call Allison who was speeding down I-35 from Dallas. I also remember just laughing and laughing and laughing. Unfortunately, I can’t remember at what.
2001 doesn’t seem like that long ago – even though I had a different job and lived in an entirely different state and certainly was in a different state of mind. It was a year that marks some corner I turned – the kind of year that you can’t appreciate when you’re marinating in it.
I always thought that I would return to SXSW again and again, but I haven’t. The following spring I moved to Atlanta and that was that. It’s probably best because there would be no way to recapture that weekend or best the memories. It was my first exposure to Ryan Adams and the first time I saw Lucinda live. It was the first time I’d been to Austin as an adult and the city didn’t disappoint. It was the first time I’d met someone where the energy in the empty spaces between us was palpable.
Five years later I’m stuck behind a desk and the only music I hear is through the earbuds on my iPod (though I could call up Slobberbone with the click of a wheel), and my plans tonight don’t involve squeezing in as many bands and beers as possible, but instead revolve around the gym and maybe making it to Kroger. And strangely enough, I couldn’t be happier.
Posted by hannah at 04:17 PM | Comments (2)
March 13, 2006
Uniquely You
We all know that we’re special. We know that there is no one out there who shares our unique imprint – not ever history or in the unwritten future. There is only one me and there is only one you and we learn that when we are very young. Free to Be You and Me, it taught us that didn’t it? But what some of us don’t learn is that there is only one you because God created you uniquely. He created me uniquely. In Psalm 139 King David wrote that he knew that he was “wonderfully and fearfully” made by the God of the universe. When you stop and really think about it – it’s indescribable.
Psalm 139:13-16
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
A few months ago I wrote about Louie Giglio’s sermon at Buckhead Church titled “Indescribable,” and yesterday he followed it up with a new two-part message, “Alive.” It was, to repeat an oft-used word around here, awesome.
He started out by quickly recapping his previous message and showed us some new Hubble Telescope photos so that we could frame his forthcoming message. It is amazing when you stop to think about the universe that God created – how it’s bigger than anything we could ever wrap our minds around and how we, in it, are no more than a speck of dust. We are so minute in its vastness that we don’t even register on most images. This planet is so big to me sometimes – people I love are so far away and there are places and faces I will never see. Will I ever make it to India? Will I ever journey to the other side of our enormous, gorgeous Earth? But to realize that despite its bigness, our planet in our solar system in our average-sized galaxy is just a trillionth of the worlds and places and spaces that God crafted with his own hands… my brain stops functioning.
And then Louie said that if we turn that gaze inward, if we pause to consider the intricacies of our own human bodies, it’s even more amazing. We were created! There is, to me, no other explanation.
(This is a great link that discusses Psalm 139 and what it means that we were wonderfully and fearfully made. An exerpt: “When I open up the back of an old-fashioned pocket watch and see all of the gears, bearings, timing mechanisms, etc., I marvel at the one who designed and made it. But a single cell of the human body is so much more complicated. But when you put all of those cells together so that they work for the common good of the whole body and give it the abilities that it has, it truly is amazing. Truly, we are fearfully and wonderfully made. How grateful I am to be able to know this God who made us through His Son, Jesus Christ, and to marvel not only at His knowledge but also at His love.”)
Louie posted an image of a baby in utereo and quoted a medical journal regarding when and how we make our eyelids and the journal used the word “mysteriously.” (Mystery is God’s forte.) And of course my thoughts jumped to the still unborn baby Merrill, who at this moment may be making his own eyelids in the womb of my brother’s wife. Already that child is loved – not just his parents or his aunt or his grandparents, but also by His creator. There will never be another boy like him and I feel lucky that I get to be his. Already! Imagine the love God has for him, already, if I am able to feel this way.
That there has never been on this planet, and never ever will be again, another human being the likes of me – it makes my self-doubt and loathing and frustration seem like such a slight to my creator. Why would I question Him? Who am I to lament my big feet or my frizzy hair or my agitated skin? My heart – it beats. My lungs – they expand. My blood – it runs. All of it perfectly timed and built and crafted - by the same God who, with the sweep of His hand, sprinkled the sky with galaxies and billions upon billions of stars. He knit me in my mother’s womb and “all the days ordained for me were written in [His] book before one of them came to be.” How lucky are we?
Posted by hannah at 04:07 PM | Comments (3)
March 12, 2006
Note
Attention Atlanta drivers: GET OVER. When you get in the far left lane and then just cruise there for miles and miles? You are the reason traffic gets backed up and I have to pass you, dangerously, on the right. Sure, you may be going over the speed limit, but you're still moving five to 10 miles per hour slower than everyone else and you make me want to STAB.
The left lane is for passing. Read it, live it, love it.
(I also managed to bore even myself with yesterday's entry. Sorry about that.)
Posted by hannah at 04:00 PM | Comments (4)
March 11, 2006
Saturday
Saturday seems to be the day I buy a bunch of songs on iTunes and every time I do, I realize I am nothing if not eclectic. Today I purchased "King Without a Crown" by Matisyahu; "The Bucket" by Kings of Leon; "Why" by Jason Aldeen; "My Savior, My God" by Aaron Shust and one of the Passion Band* albums. Well, maybe that's not so eclectic - there does seem to be a bit of a theme there.
This morning Mary Lee and I went to Body Works at LA Fitness before eating way too much pizza at the Brookwood Mellow Mushroom. Our only lunch requirement was that the place had to have a patio, which isn't a difficult requirement to fill in Atlanta. Atlantans love their patios! It was 80 degrees today and it felt so good to wear a tank top and flip flops and sit outside and marvel at how green everything is. Although, just because it's warm doesn't mean it's okay to bust our your white skirts and tiny shorts. It may feel like spring, but it's not technically here yet. Be patient.
Then I went to my beloved Nail South for my first pedicure of the season and I'm so happy it's almost spring and I can justify bimonthly pedis. By chance I got a woman I've had many times before and she asked, "Where is that other friend that always comes with you?" I said, "The really tall one?" And she said yes and I told her that Allison lives in L'ville now and she replied, "Oh, that's too far." Hee. Gwinnett Cty strikes again!
Tonight I have a fourth date** with a really great guy I met through work (but not at work), and even though I'm exhausted and want to sit in my dark house and do nothing, I will rally, slip into my strappiest heels and go be charming date Hannah.
*Passion is an organization based out of Atlanta and is led by Louie Giglio (who is speaking tomorrow at church) whose mission is to spread the love of Christ to college students in a meaningful way. From their website: "Passion exists to glorify God-uniting students in worship and prayer for spiritual awakening in this generation."
**Technically it's our 4th date, but it's really kind of only our second, because we went out twice before Christmas but I stopped seeing him because I was seeing someone else, and bless his heart, he kept calling. So it's really our second date, take two.
Posted by hannah at 05:04 PM | Comments (4)
March 10, 2006
What a Guy
My brother turns 33 on Monday, and though I'm a little early, you can never wish someone you love a happy birthday too many times!
When I was a kid I dreamed about having a sister. Even though my parents were done having children, I thought if I hoped enough, prayed enough, even begged enough, that they would grant my request. (Obviously I never got a baby sister, but I've been blessed with so many close female friendships in my life that it hardly mattered.)
I don't know why I was focused on having a sister - maybe because my mother had four or maybe because I didn't think that I would be able to share things and build memories with a stinky boy in the same way. Thank god I was wrong.
My brother is one of the best people I know - he is funny, whip smart and has the most infectious laugh. We had our share of tension and squabbles growing up - he thought I was spoiled and I thought he was just mean - so sometimes it amazes me that we can be so loving and open with each other now. I guess maturity helps in that arena.
In less than five months he will be somebody's daddy and I can honestly say that I am more happy for him than I think I would be for myself. My brother spent a lot of his early life feeling isolated and left out - he didn't make friends very easily and every weekend when I would pack a nightgown and roll up my Barbie sleeping bag for yet another slumber party, he would be in his room, alone.
So the joy I feel that he now has this wife, this partner, that he's part of a whole family, it's unexplainable. I am so grateful to my sister-in-law and her family for embracing him like they have. I am so grateful to her that she loves him without condition, without question, without end.
I may never find that, but sometimes it's enough that he did.
Happy birthday, brother. The Garfield coffee mug is from me.
Posted by hannah at 04:19 PM | Comments (0)
March 09, 2006
Daddy, do
My dad is coming down at the end of the month to help me out with a few house projects, and I'm trying to figure out exactly the best way to put him to work! A lot of what's left to be done to the house is cosmetic - painting the bedrooms, replacing the dining room light fixture - that kind of stuff.
The main reason for his visit is to wash and seal the deck, something that had never even entered my thoughts until he was here at Thanksgiving and insisted that it be done. But how else to take advantage of prime pops handyman time? Should we stick to the yard and attempt to clear out the jungle in the back? Should I get him to help me unstick some of the painted-shut windows? Or do we chuck it all and go see some shows and eat a lot of pizza?
J0shua did end up stopping by this week to fix my bathroom sink, and while he was here I took advantage and got him to change a few tricky lightbulbs. At one point he shook his head and said he didn't get nearly the work done over here that he had planned (there were big plans to retile my bathroom and reglaze the tub - something I will NOT be attempting to do in one weekend with my dad).
I hadn't seen J0shua since December when he came over to fix me dinner and give me a Christmas gift and I can honestly say that seeing him stirred up no feelings and no sense of loss. We were never right for each other - he just figured it out sooner than I did. It is weird sometimes though - because he acted as my agent and my broker, so many of my memories of him and our time together are connected to this house. My houseaversary would also have been a year since we got together and that's weird that they'll always be connected. Luckily, I don't plan to stay in this house longterm. (But who knows? I could still be here in 2020 with eight dogs and squirrels as pets.)
But it feels good to be over all of that and to be at a place where the house now feels like MY project, not OUR project. He was a part of the beginning, but I get to write the remainder.
Posted by hannah at 04:09 PM | Comments (0)
March 08, 2006
Meme
1. Who was your first prom date?
Sadly, I didn’t go to prom. No one asked me and I was brought up believing girls didn’t ask out boys, even though there were probably a least a few Klein Oak guys I worked with at Randall’s who would’ve gone with me. Instead Teri and I drove to downtown Houston and acted-to-cool-for-prom at a little coffee shop called Brazil. Then, on the way home, her Ford Festiva broke down on I-45 and we had to wait at a Whataburger for our friend Bobby* to come get us. (*Bobby wasn’t at prom because he’d transferred to the “Fame” high school, which paid off as he’s now on staff with a little Christian rock band that rhymes with Nars of May.)
2. Who was your first roommate?
Cyndi, who was from St. Joe, MI, home of maligned author James Frey. Sadly, she transferred after one semester to be closer to her high school boyfriend and instead I got this loon who was so drunk one night she peed on the carpet.
3. What was your first alcoholic beverage?
I can’t really talk about it without feeling sick, but Zima. Two other girls, Teri and I decided that we were going to go out and get some booze and so we drove to a gas station in the “country” (just outside of our subdivision) and Teri, who was dressed up in some crazy ‘70s outfit that belonged to someone’s mother, went in and pretended like she forgot her i.d. The clerk said he would sell it to her if she showed him her “American breasts.” We quickly got out of there and went to another gas station where some 20something guy bought us a 6-pack. We each had 1.5 and it actually made me buzzed.
4. What was your first job?
I started babysitting when I was 10 or 11. (My dad told me a few months ago that he actually went and spoke with Teri’s parents about leaving us alone with her five younger siblings. Teri’s response was “Well, together we were like 22!” Ha.) My first fill-this-form-out and here’s-how-you-clock-in job was as a cashier at the grocery chain Randall’s, which in the ‘90s was still independently owned and awesome. It was the cool job to have. Now Randall’s is owned by Safeway and it’s kind of skeezy. Although, they all now have Starbucks in them, so there’s that.
5. What was your first car?
A 1986 Acura Integra – it was awesome and I loved it, even though I had to MANUALLY remove the sunroof. I had that car till I graduated from college and in the six years I owned it I only put 30,000 miles on it. I still see one every once in awhile and I get a little pang of regret for getting rid of it.
6. When did you go to your first funeral?
I can’t remember exactly, but the first one that stands out was the funeral for a girl who lived down the street from me. She was a few years ahead of me in school and one of her younger brothers was in my grade and her youngest brother was a friend of a boy I babysat. She was 15 or 16 and shot herself one night in her bedroom. Her youngest brother and the boy I babysat for were the ones who found her. It was awful and I’ll never forget it.
7. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
18 when my mom and I moved to Ohio.
8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Steind0rf – she was a little scary. She switched to third grade when I was in third grade and there were rumors that she once stapled Sc0t Brewer to the wall.
9. Where did you go on your first airplane ride?
When I was less than two months old and my dad flew all of us to Ohio to visit family. My eldest aunt likes to talk about that trip, because they made a “crib” for me out of a dresser drawer.
10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
I never snuck out of my house – not once.
11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them?
Julie N3tzel, who lived across the street from me and became my friend when we were two and three years old. It’s only just now that I know more two year olds that I realize how remarkable that is. When we first met she couldn’t say my name so she just called me He-He. We send Christmas cards and sporadically keep in touch, but I was in her wedding in 1999 and I hope she will be at mine and there are few people in the world who have a piece of my heart like Julie does.
12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents’ house?
When I went to college in 1994 – aside from summers and breaks, I never lived at home again. I think that should be the way of things, but it seems to be an anomaly in our generation to not have lived at home for at least a patch post-college.
13. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?
I’m lucky in that I have an entire roster of people I can call. I guess it just depends on what happened!
14. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsman?
I’ve only been a bridesmaid three times (though I’ve been a reader several), and the first was for Teri in 2002. They got married at the gorgeous Holy Name of Jesus at Loyola in New Orleans and it was such an amazing weekend. I wrote about it here and here
15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Cry a little because my house is so cold. Shower. Take the dog out. Open the blinds. Bring the dog in. Leave.
16. What was the first concert you attended?
I think it was actually Amy Grant, but it’s so much more hilarious if I say New Kids on the Block – February 1990.
17. First tattoo or piercing!
Only tattoo – thank goodness. A stupid flower that I doodle all the time on the inside of my left ankle that I got in April 1995, so I guess I’m coming up on my 11th tattooaversary.
18. First celebrity crush?
Oh, who knows. Most of my adolescence was filled with crushes but probably Joey McIntyre. I still sort of have a crush on him, actually.
19. First crush?
I am not kidding how early this started for me! In Kindergarten I had a crush on this guy – James. But everyone had a crush on James, so it wasn’t really unusual.
20. First real love?
My college boyfriend – we dated most of my junior year, his sophomore year. One of the greatest women I’ve met since moving to Atlanta is, coincidentally enough, married to one of said boyfriend’s fraternity brothers and he is constantly teasing me about it. They didn’t exactly run in the same circles and I will never live it down. But I did love him, in our own very dysfunctional immature way. I’ve written some about him over the past 5+ years of writing online and falling for him stands out as one of the greatest experiences of my life. It was pure joy and elation figuring out our crushes on each other were reciprocated!
Posted by hannah at 03:53 PM | Comments (0)
March 07, 2006
Steppin'
Tonight I went to a Step class at LA Fitness for the first time in almost a year. Lately I've been mostly spinning and going to body works, but since spinning is such an intense workout and I'm fairly coordinated and fit, I didn't think a year hiatus from Step would be such a big deal.
HA!
I had an inkling I was in trouble when most of the folks in the class all seemed to know each other, which means they've been coming every week to this class with this instructor for an extended period of time. I knew I was in trouble when the instructor said, "Okay, y'all know this is Step TWO, right? If you're not advanced, just try to keep up!"
After an hour of tick-tocks, inside-outs, and a bunch of other made up phrases, I thought my heart was going to explode. And the screaming - why all the screaming? I will admit that sometimes during a workout you just have to let out a well-time "WOO!" but there was a lot of screaming, yelling and counting-out-loud in this class. And then.. the cool down. We cooled down to worship music. Now, I'm not one to turn up my nose at worship music - I'm a huge fan as you all know - but while I'm stretching my hamstring? It was weird.
I'm pretty sure I'll go back next week.
Posted by hannah at 11:02 PM | Comments (3)
March 06, 2006
Quickly
I am about to walk out the door to go babysit my friends' daughter so that they can celebrate their second anniversary (I can't believe they've already been married two years - it feels like last week that we were in Jacksonville, dancing to the best wedding band ever), but random things have happened to me recently, and I have to say something about it before I forget.
In the past month or so two people I have not spoken to since before I left Texas, so 1993 or thereabouts, have found me via the Internet and sent me e-mails. It's been really trippy and wild, but great. But do you know how hard it is to sum up 10-12 years of your life in one e-mail? They went something like this: graduated from Klein, went to college, moved to Columbus, worked, moved to Atlanta, here I am. Sprinkle with heartbreaks, adventures, homeownership and travel. The end.
I'm a relationship-oriented person, which is why I have numerous friendships that have survived decades and distance and major life changes, and it's been pretty awesome to realize that people who loved me back then remember me, and remember me fondly, today.
Life is life and it will continue to surprise you. If you're lucky.
Posted by hannah at 05:49 PM | Comments (1)
March 05, 2006
Peek-a-boo!
At the resort on Friday night they had "entertainment" that consisted of a group of dancers who pulled guests up on stage and taught them different dances. One of the moves was called the "Scooby Doo," which is difficult to describe. You know that movement that Shaggy and Scooby make when they get startled by a ghost? That's the Scooby Doo.
We thought it was so hilarious that we made up our own moves, including the ever popular and easy-to-learn, "Peek-a-boo."
Posted by hannah at 02:14 PM | Comments (0)
March 03, 2006
Why I Have a Headache
---- Original message ----
From: Hannah Merrill
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2006 12:08 PM
To: Allison Lowe; Chris Huff
Subject: RE: tonight
I just did something really stupid: the taco of the day at Taqueria del Sol was a bacon dog taco and I ate it.
----------------------------------------------------
From: Allison Lowe
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2006 12:11 PM
To: Hannah Merrill; Chris Huff
Subject: RE: tonight
Please tell me what this delicious concoction was made of.
----------------------------------------------------
From: Hannah Merrill
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2006 12:19 PM
To: Allison Lowe; Chris Huff
Subject: RE: tonight
It was a hot dog, wrapped in bacon, in a soft tortilla with jalapeños and tomatoes. I can't talk about it.
----------------------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 3 Mar 2006 12:18:17 -0500
From: "Allison Lowe"
Subject: RE: tonight
To: Hannah Merrill, Chris Huff
That sounds like something Deuce would cook. Like something from a beautiful dream.
----------------------------------------------------
From: CHRIS HUFF
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2006 2:05 PM
To: Allison Lowe; Hannah Merrill
Subject: RE: tonight
Could you pick up a few of those for me? PLEASE?!
Posted by hannah at 02:17 PM | Comments (8)
March 02, 2006
Final Single Moments
Capturing her final moments as a single woman! (Or "spinster" as the Jamaican marriage certificate said. Thanks Jamaica!)
Posted by hannah at 04:46 PM | Comments (0)
Paradise
Posted by hannah at 02:21 PM | Comments (1)
Important as It Seems
Beautiful spring days, like the one Atlanta experienced yesterday, always whisk up memories of Miami. I know that I wax nostalgic about college quite often, maybe it's because I have more stories form those days than the entire Internet could ever hold; maybe it's because it was such a time of freedom, growth and discovery that I feel it's important to remind myself of who I was then, of how that girl made me the woman I am today.
Right now Satellite by Dave Matthews Band is playing on my iPod and just hearing this song gives me a giddy feeling in my stomach - the way I felt when we would put on lip gloss and pack Boone's Farm into our bags and trek over to the Sammy house to hang out with our friends who made us laugh and laugh and laugh and where I kissed the cutest little Jewish boy from Maryland. My sophomore year I lived in an all-women residence hall on an all-women quad in this beautiful red brick building that was built in the early 1900s. Our room had hardwood floors and crown moulding and our window overlooked a sidewalk that led into the quad and there was a beautiful blooming tree that filled our room with fragrance and petals. We would sit at the window, Dana and I, and we would smoke Marlboro Light 100s and switch out CDs on my little stereo - Alanis, 311, Dave Matthews, Portishead.
There was an article out the other day about well-paying jobs that don't require a four-year degree. I think it's great that there are opportunities and options for people who may not be able to afford university or for people who don't think it's for them. But for me going off to college was never just about getting a bachelor's - I'm glad I have it, and I know I wouldn't have had the work experience I've had without it - but it was about more than that. I chose Miami because it was exactly what I wanted for my college experience - we were insulated, surrounded by history and beautiful brick buildings and tradition. There were seals you had to avoid, and statues to rub and ringing bells and arches to kiss under. There were red steps and a water tower and an actual "Uptown." I've said this before, and I'm willing to admit that maybe other people feel this way about their alma mater (though I doubt it), but even now, if I were to meet another Miami alumnus, we would be able to know, just by a look and a smile, that we share something unique. When we have alumni gatherings in Atlanta, there is never a lull in conversation. Regardless of grad year, from 1963 to 2003, each person I've met has a love and affinity for Miami that matches mine. Maybe that's why they come to these events, or maybe it's something a little more than that. I'll even admit that I feel a little sorry for people who didn't get to have a "real" college experience - whether by choice or circumstance.
I am also so grateful that I went to school at the time in history I did - before the glut of e-mail, the Internet, cell phones, caller I.d. - before technology robbed college of what makes it college. How do you get a cute guy to come to your apartment if you can just e-mail him your notes instead of loaning him your notebook? How do you crawl from bar to bar looking for that specific person when you can just track them down with a few phone calls from your perch at Saloon? (Not that Saloon still exists, but if it did, that was where I would have been perched come 2 a.m.) How do you forget the night before if everyone's texting photos the morning after? We were never innocent - lost innocence is what previous generations bemoan because they forgot how they themselves once acted. I have no illusions about behavior I engaged in, but we got away with a lot more because there was no technology to bust us. When I was a freshman, the Internet was basically a way to read about the cast of Friends, but when it came to writing a paper, it was still all Dewey Decimal and card catalogs.
I read an article in Glamour/Self/Marie-Claire or some such that college girls are ending up inebriated on web sites and videos and they have no recollection or remembrance of signing a waiver (if they even did). Their privacy is being violated simply because they're engaging in behavior that college girls have been engaging in since the dawn of time. This behavior ain't new, but the consequences definitely are. My junior year I attended a fraternity date party with a toga theme. Before the party all the girls were told to meet at the seal outside the library where we were met by a group of pledges who escorted us up the slantwalk to the house. We were then locked inside the library and given only wine and vodka to drink for about two hours. Once it was dark outside, our dates came in and found us and the party began for real. I doubt this party still exists - for one, the fraternity was disbanded my senior year and when it came back it came back as a dry chapter - but to think about that scenario with today's technology scares me to death.
You make a lot of really, really dumb decisions when you're 18, 19, 20 years old. You think nothing is more important than this guy, this class, this grade and you forget that you still have a whole lot of life left to live. Even at 29 I sometimes forget that I still have a whole lot of life left to live and that nothing, and no one, is as important as it seems.
Posted by hannah at 01:17 PM | Comments (3)
March 01, 2006
Same Old Song
I'm slowing going through all of my CDs importing them into iTunes and onto my iPod, and it's funny the memories the older discs will dredge up. I just put in Natalie Imbruglia, and I noticed that the CD actually belongs to my college roommate Dana and the CD booklet is warped - I would be willing to bet at some point someone spilled Malibu and pineapple on it.
I've also put on a few mix CDs that people have given me over the years, and when I was listening to one the other day, I had to smack my forehead with realization. It was full of love songs and I just thought - oh, DUH. Maybe our witty work flirtation was actually indicitive of something! It's amazing how clueless you can be sometimes, when it comes to personal relationships.
Like the time toward the very end of my senior year one of my fellow newspaper staffers asked me why we never got together and I was dumbfounded. He thought I wasn't interested, and it never even would have occurred to me that he would have been into me. The most interaction we had was when he, as the photo editor, would tease me along with the sports editor because I made the suggestion that we should run more "emotional" sports photos. (Because I'm a girl.)
I've always been pretty into music - not like that fraternity guy you dated who hoarded Dave Matthews bootleg tapes - but enough that I have a decent collection of ticket stubs and I don't mind spending money to go see someone I really like. I'm going to see four shows in the next four weeks, and I'm even considering selling my Wednesday night Death Cab ticket, buying a new one for Thursday, just so that I can go see Rhett Miller on Wednesday instead. Do y'all know how hot Rhett Miller is and how much I love ANY MUSICIAN to come out of Texas? But then I remembered that my tax return only contains so many dollars and I have a full-time job.
Posted by hannah at 08:43 PM | Comments (5)
