So, gosh, almost a month ago I went to Northfield, ostensibly to see Salman Rushdie, but really to see Teddy, and if I'm going to be completely honest, to see Martha. I got to campus later than I was planning, but Martha was still in her office and she continues to be adorable and supportive and wonderful. She invited me to come back to Carleton to tell some students about Emergency Management through the Career Center, but I haven't heard anything from anyone about that so I figure it's 50-50 she was just trying to get me out of her office. Either way, it was great to see her, she's such an inspiration, I'm going to name all my children after her, etc., etc.
After seeing Martha I went to Salman Rushdie's talk with Hillary and Teddy, and it was... I don't know. It was ok. Teddy and I didn't end up discussing it afterward so my thoughts didn't really get a chance to crystallize, so my takeaway isn't much more nuanced than "censorship is bad." Fair enough. Teddy and I went out after the talk, and spent our evening drinking too much beer, drunk dialing Hannah, somehow failing to solve every problem, and then watching The Wicker Man.
I'm sure some things happened before the following weekend, but I don't remember what they were, so I'm going to skip them. A few weeks ago, my friend Laura told me to go to a concert at this bar downtown, but it looked like it was sold out so I stayed home. However, while I was Googling the venue, I saw that one of my very favorite bands in the world, Okkervil River, was playing there on Halloween. I bought a ticket immediately, and last Thursday I went to the show. You guys, it's hard for me to express how much joy this concert brought me. Let me set the scene for you a little bit. The venue is teeny tiny, it's about half the size of my apartment, with a bar along the wall in the front half and a stage at the back. Apparently no one knows who Okkervil River is, so I went to this concert by myself, and because I'm compulsive I was about 45 minutes early, which is not necessarily advisable when you're alone and you're not very good at talking to strangers. I got a beer and sat at the bar checking my phone until the opening band started setting up. There weren't too many people there yet, so I walked up to the stage and got myself some front row space. The opening band was hilariously hairy, and they were playing an excessive number of percussion instruments, but the music was great and they were really excited to be playing, and at one point the lead singer challenged an audience member to see who could chug a beer faster. After their set there was a costume contest, and then Okkervil River set up, and then they started playing and it was amazing. I just love this band, and they were all right in front of me. At one point Will Sheff almost dropped the microphone on my head. It was incredible. Toward the end of the show, he forgot the words to "Lost Coastlines," and me and a couple of other people in the front just sang it to him until he could come back in. And the whole thing was fantastic, but something else great happened to me that night: I had a vision. Surrounded by cool people who like the same music that I do and go to concerts and potentially have some other positive features, I saw myself with this wide group of friends who I could do stuff with in Fargo and have a great time. I saw myself, not tolerating, but loving Fargo. There are things I'll never like about this place, but that's true for every place. I've felt bad for myself for too long, I can work harder to meet exciting new people and expand my social sphere beyond the (admittedly wonderful) ten or so people I know through the program. You guys, I'm clinging to that vision like a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood.
The next night was a great time too, although perhaps somewhat less evocative. I had a bunch of people over for dinner, and everybody liked the food, which is all I ask. Samantha brought her anarchist friend, and we had the most interesting conversation about progressivisim and anarchy and The System. I still have a lot of questions, but for now I'll say I'm not an anarchist, but I could certainly adopt some of the philosophy, especially when conceptualizing social problems.
The next afternoon I drove back to Minneapolis for a party Morgan was throwing. Before the party, Emily and I took a great walk through Uptown and chatted about life and all that. We did some vegan baking at her apartment, and then did some more vegan baking with Morgan, and then it was the party where I did a lot of unnecessary networking and got chastised for citing Buzzfeed. I don't exactly remember everything that happened, but it was a hilarious night. The next morning I demanded we go to French Meadow for brunch, then we did a lot more walking around Uptown, and I left after saying long goodbyes to Morgan and Emily. I think I'll be staying in Fargo for the rest of the semester, which is sad but considerably less expensive.
I like the drive to and from Minneapolis because it's pretty but the landscape isn't super interesting, and there's never much traffic so I have a lot of time to think about things. I didn't feel like listening to "Yeezus" or "Magna Carta Holy Grail" again, so I put on the new National CD, "Trouble Will Find Me," and put Pink Rabbits on repeat, which was just an epically bad idea. Feeling sorry for myself, thinking about Fargo and Minneapolis and DC and listening to the saddest song in my CD changer, I started crying so hard I'm sure it was a public safety hazard. I sort of got it together and made it back to my apartment. I got into bed and, thinking about that vision of myself as a cool person with cool friends in Fargo, I started watching hair and makeup tutorials on Youtube. I guess you could say I got inspired, and decided I would go to Target and buy every beauty product that struck my fancy. On the drive over I listened to Kanye, because I figured yelling things aggressively was safer than weeping uncontrollably. Well, I spent way too much money at Target, came home and gave myself a makeover. As it turns out, the two looks I can do are "natural" and "harlot." That being said, it really does make me feel better to do something with my hair every night and put on a little makeup every day. Laura and I went to the gym earlier this week, and that felt great, too. So, perhaps an obvious conclusion: taking care of myself makes me a little bit less frustrated with the fact that I live in North Dakota.
And a final note, on the topic of taking care of oneself, Samantha and I decided when we were in Winnipeg that we were going to make our own kombucha, in spite of the fact that neither of us had ever tried kombucha previously. As it turns out, kombucha is outrageously expensive, but after I tried it, I have been buying it compulsively because it's delicious, and a number of websites of dubious quality have convinced me that it's extremely good for you. So a few weeks ago we brewed some tea, sweetened it and added a bottle of pre-made kombucha, and that sat in my kitchen. Yesterday, Sam came over and we uncovered the bottle to reveal something that looks sort of like a thick slice of Provolone -- a SCOBY. Hopefully, after the proto-kombucha sits for a few more days it will be carbonated and ready to drink. It's disgusting and fascinating. I'll keep you updated.
A final, final note -- because no one knows about Okkervil River, here are two of their songs, the first is from their new album and the second is an old favorite of mine:
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