Love is blindness -

I am obsessed with the soundtrack to Baz Luhrman's The Great Gatsby. I knew I would be before it was ever released because Baz is my favorite film director of all time (Moulin Rouge is always number one or two in my favorite movie list and his version of Romeo and Juliet is probably in the top ten) and he uses the most amazing music in his movies. When I saw the first trailer for The Great Gatsby with its opening notes of "No Church in the Wild" by Jay-Z and Kanye West playing over roaring 20s images of flappers and alcohol and fast cars, I almost died. I really think if Fitzgerald were alive today, he would've appreciated this take on his story with its crazy modern music, anachronistic costuming, and constant assault of color and emotion.

Right now, this is my favorite song from the soundtrack. Baz always introduces me to great music I had no idea existed. I love Jack White's version of this song, but I did not know it was a U2 song:

U2


Jack White


To no one's surprise, I like both versions equally. Bono's tragic, melodramatic version just as well as Jack's charged, primal screaming.

I'm glad this week is over.

Last Saturday at this time in the afternoon I was crammed into a narrow wooden seat at Fenway Park alongside my boyfriend and two of our friends from college. We were drinking to keep the beer blankets heavy and cheering our throats hoarse for our beloved hometown team. Of course, I say hometown, but none of us grew up in Boston. That’s the thing about this city and its baseball team (not to mention football and hockey and basketball); if you’ve spent any time here, or went to school nearby, or had parents who originally came from New England… you think of Boston as home.

“Boston, you’re my home!”

We sing these words at the tops of our lungs after Mike Napoli hits the sacrifice fly ball to give the Sox the winning run in a ten inning game that Saturday afternoon. My boyfriend’s hand finds mine as we file out of the park and move out into the iconic streets surrounding Fenway – Yawkey and Lansdowne. There’s nothing like the high of watching such a close game end in a win for your team. Everyone around us is smiling and laughing and moving in knots of enthusiasm toward their next destination to celebrate. We are no different, holding out our hands for stamps outside Jillian’s and finding a spot at the bar together. I down a glass of pinot grigio with gusto, attempting to keep up with the boys without losing my balance. Tim leaves, but Ben and Dylan and I eat and drink and try to figure out what to do with the rest of our evening.

We meet up with two friends who live in Brighton – in Copley Square. As we walk down Boylston Street together, I suddenly realize that we are walking directly over the finish line for the Boston Marathon. I feel a jolt of ecstatic adrenaline to think that I am walking over the place thousands will be so glad to cross on Monday.

We eat dinner at a nearby restaurant and then spend the night talking and laughing back at the girls’ apartment. Dylan and I drive home late that night, brilliantly happy with how great the day was.

Monday afternoon, my iphone starts vibrating on my desk.

Holy shit there was an explosion at the finish line of the marathon is the text message from Dylan on my screen.

What! I reply.

Yea- witness says 2 loud booms

Jesus, I say, not knowing what else to say. What else can you say? I don’t know anything. My immediate thoughts are pipe bombs and other minor atrocities. I mention it in passing to one of my coworkers, but we are always pretty busy in the office on Monday so we don’t dwell on it. I pull up Google and type in “Boston marathon explosion” but the internet at this point does not know any more than Dylan has already told me.

An hour later.

2 dead 23 injured

My god I text back. Me, the atheist. The words just come automatically because that is what you say in times when words are beyond you. All I can think is how relieved I am that Dylan did not go into the city today.   

As soon as I get out of work I am scrolling through Facebook to make sure everyone I know is okay. They are. I turn NPR up but they don’t know anything. They keep interviewing people who were close when it happened, but they don’t know anything either. All anyone knows is two bombs went off, the second less than a minute after the first. They were yards from the finish line. Dozens of people are injured, many gruesomely so, and at least two people are dead. It could have been worse, but medical staffs across the city were already prepared to receive the normal amount of entries via the marathon runners, so they were as prepared as they could be for the glut of sudden and war-like injuries that flooded their doorsteps.

I spend the rest of the night trying to set the events of the day aside so that I can sleep that night and face the day tomorrow. Acts of terrible violence in my country, especially something that feels so personally close to me despite all of my friends and acquaintances being just fine, always hit me in the worst way. September 11^th happened when I was fourteen and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered from feeling as though all safety and logic in my world were destroyed. Each mass shooting, each new act of terror and fear mongering brings with it a new wave of feeling completely out of control, like I can’t trust anything, least of all myself. I hunker down and distract myself as much as I can and hope that I don’t let it all build to a point where it comes out in an anxiety attack or something worse.

Dylan is helpful. He checks on me every day while I’m work following the bombing. He is on vacation this week, so he comes to eat lunch with me on Wednesday. The not knowing is the worst. Who did this and why? Everyone seems to be on edge. On Thursday I listen to the FBI give descriptions of two suspects they have identified thanks to video surveillance footage from the area of the bombing. I shudder, but hope this leads to something else happening, anything else to bring some kind of change other than this endless waiting.

Thursday night I go to sleep early. I open my eyes when Dylan comes in to bed and he tells me a MIT cop was shot. I blink and wonder if it’s connected to the bombing, but he doesn’t know. I go back to sleep.

Friday morning, I turn on the news.

Total insanity.

A convenience store was robbed in Cambridge. The MIT cop was shot and died. The bombing suspects hijacked a car (and let the driver go) and then proceeded to have a violent fire fight with Watertown police. One of the suspects is dead but the other got away. The police have shut down all of Watertown and the surrounding neighborhoods and are proceeding on a massive manhunt to find the escaped suspect. Throughout the day I pull up the internet, my friends on Facebook listening to police scanners in Watertown, NPR interviewing people who lived on the same street as the firefight… I listen as they discover who the suspects are, two brother of Chechnyan descent who are naturalized American citizens. I hear their names. I hear their family members and their friends and their employers talk about them, how none of this makes sense, how neither of them gave any indications towards violence, least of all violence on this massive scale.

I want to cry, driving home from work on Friday. I was supposed to go into Worcester and meet my old coworkers for drinks, but half of them live in the Boston area and are under lockdown so we have to reschedule. All of the electronic signs on the highway say “Boston neighborhoods shelter in place in effect”. It freaks me out every time I drive by one even though I live an hour and a half away. What does that matter though when they haven’t found the guy and no one knows if he was in a car or not?

It’s weird and scary and instead of going to Worcester to hang out and party with some other friends who are in town for the weekend, I drive home and curl up on the couch next to Dylan. He doesn’t want me to freak out too much though, so we almost immediately get up and go out to look at some new houses that just came on the market. While we’re driving, we were the news conference where Governor Patrick cancels the shelter in place and tells everyone they can go out, but to remain vigilant.

How the hell are you supposed to feel about that? They haven’t caught the guy, but you can leave your houses now. I don’t know. I keep driving until we find somewhere to eat dinner.

We’re settled on the cushy leather armchairs in front of the fireplace at Panera eating soup when Dylan suddenly says, “They think they found him in Watertown.” And then a minute later, “Sounds like he’s in a boat.”

NPR has a livestream going that I bring up on my phone. We listen to it for half an hour while we eat. They keep describing the scene, cops surrounding the area, a spotlight on the boat, the trail of blood the homeowner saw that made him call the police in the first place. Shots go off. Shots gof off again. Nothing is happening because they are waiting for a bomb squad.

Eventually we drive home. I leave NPR on but it’s more of the same. They’re waiting. We’re waiting. At home, we turn on the tv and get a picture along with the sound. I try to read a book. Suddenly we can hear the newscasters getting excited. Someone on the scene is saying the cops are clapping and walking away from the scene.

They got him. He climbed out of the boat and they arrested him and put him in an ambulance.

And then we are watching the cops leave the scene in their cars. People are packed along the streets and they are clapping and cheering and chanting and singing songs – “God Bless America” and “Sweet Caroline” – oh, Boston, you’re my home.

After all of this is over, I call my mom. We talk briefly about house stuff, more about what we just saw on the news, and then say good night. I talk to my Aunt Yvette and it is similar. Dylan is on the phone with his aunt too.

And then I’m left to sit and think. I find I don’t really want to. Mostly I feel relieved that the tension of the day is now over. One part of the mystery is solved. It feels like maybe whatever danger existed might be over. But if I start to think about it for any length of time all I can think about are what ifs. What if there are others involved in this? What if more is coming and now we’re really unprepared for it because we’re so distracted? What if this kid was just a pawn in someone’s game? For some reason, I feel sympathy and sorrow for him. He’s nineteen and he spent the last twenty hours hiding from an entire city’s worth of cops and citizens, wounded and knowing his older brother had been killed. At the same time, I know he probably helped kill and maim people. He probably had a direct hand in the terror and pain I’ve felt all week. Still, I feel this horrible sense of pity. I wish it would go away.    

It won’t though, and I guess I’ll live with that. 

The Home Buying Adventure

So I mentioned in my last post that the boy and I had our offer accepted on our first house.On Friday, the inspectors came to give us the bad news.

Needs an entirely new roof.

Garage has carpenter ant and termite damage.

BUT

Look at those beautiful hardwood floors.

And the huge yard.

There are a lot of other great things too. The roof and the damage to the garage (which also - surprise - needs a new roof) are the worst. Electrical is fine, foundation is fine... etc etc. We're hoping to negotiate a bit more, and hopefully close around the end of June.

I mean... Look at this living room.

That archway passes through to the formal dining room. The french door goes into what will become my office (hallelujah!). And beyond that is the kitchen - big enough for both a built-in work station and space for an eat-in table and chairs. Huge master bedroom with an en suite bathroom, and guest bedroom upstairs.

Yeah, I'm totally in love with it. I'm optimistic everything is going to work out.

Who doesn't want to go camping in April?

That's right - camping in April.

CAMP NANOWRIMO THAT IS!

A-hem. Pardon the overly enthusiastic announcement. My life has been full of enthusiastic announcements lately, but this is the only one that's entirely about me. Today I embark on my quest to finish what I began in November, namely my novel Grave of the Goddess. By April 30, I hope to have my first draft of this YA fantasy-adventure-romance-quest-thing all piled up on my desk and ready for the red pen of doom. After that, who knows?

(Well, actually, a lot of query letters to agents and publishing houses. That's what comes after.)

So join me in camp if you have a writing project you need an extra kick to get started on. Or just come and hang around the campfire with us. The marshmallows are toasted to perfection!

Actually it's a lot like this....

And also this....

....as for other enthusiastic announcements, here is a brief rundown.

1) My younger brother got married! And he's having a baby! It's a girl! I'M GONNA BE AN AUNT! WITH A NIECE! Words can't express how much I already love this kid.

2) My older cousin is having twins! TWINS! And they're going to be the best nerds of all time. Woo, nerds!

3) The boy and I just got our offer accepted on a house. I'M GONNA BE A HOMEOWNER!

Holy crap. Is that enough? I don't know. Oh, and my ickle bro is graduating Army Basic like.. tomorrow. Woo hoo! Now if I could just become a full-time worker at my new job and simultaneously find a great deal on a new laptop life would be just about perfect.....

New name, new look!

Just a brief update for my followers who aren't hooked into my Twitter and/or Facebook (or for anyone else here who missed it there) -

This blog (formerly The Mystical Minx) has a new name and a new look. It is now far more reflective of me and my life in general, so enjoy this glimpse into my neuroses.