Home

Dear Readers,

Today I would like to discuss with you the topic of home.  Ever since I graduated from High School, I have been floating around from temporary apartment to house to my parent's basement.  This has caused me to question where is my real home?


I started my education in Duluth.  For two semesters I lived in an on-campus apartment with two other female students.  I had one car full of possessions and when it came time to move back to my parent's house at the end of the year, I filled up one small Hyundai Accent (think tiny compact car) and went back to the suburbs of Minneapolis.  I ached for the freedom I had in Duluth, but in Duluth I ached for living with the people I knew.  I moved into the basement of my parent's house for that summer.  After moving back it hit me, these people have changed.  My sister was older and wiser, with a boyfriend none the less.  My parents weren't sure how to give me space.  I felt like I was constantly colliding with them.  This was the place of my childhood.  I grew up in this place, but did not feel like I fit.  This home became a place to sleep at night and leave during the day.  My parents frequently commented that it was more of a base than anything else.  I felt lost.  If I wasn't home here, and I wasn't going back to Duluth, did I have a home?


At the end of that summer I packed up two suitcases and flew to England.  I got a total of ninety pounds split between two bags and a backpack.  I set up camp in ten by twelve foot room in a flat that had four other girls, a kitchen, a WC and a shower room.  I traveled there with forty two other students from the University of Minnesota-Duluth.  The first day it seemed everybody knew everyone else.  Meanwhile I knew one other girl.  She was in a sculpture class with me, but we were mere flatmates as we embarked on this journey.  For a year we traveled together, celebrated victories and losses, and became each others family.  Between her and my other new friends, I formed a new family while missing my old one back in Minnesota.  By then end of the year we traveled to over ten different countries and spent over an entire month traveling out of a backpack.  Somehow during this time I had nothing more than a flat I used for a base for travel, but I felt more "at home" here than I did my entire year in Duluth. 

After a year if traveling Europe, I had to come back to Minnesota.  I again packed up my things into two suitcases and left behind mounds of stuff.  I had intentions of returning to that stuff someday, but have yet to go back.  Now I study at the University of Minnesota.  For one semester I lived in my parents basement.  Traveling between school and home became too stressful.  The time lost traveling, and the missed opportunities were enough reason for me to move out for spring semester.  I found a place to sublet for spring and moved in with two strangers.  I attempted to make my home in an apartment that was already established by two people.  Fitting in my things was rough, and it was clear there was little room for me.  In the large apartment, I made my small room my home.  I rarely hung out in the living room, and spent a lot of time on campus to avoid my colorful new roommates. 


I didn't want to live with my parents and I did not want to live with these strangers.  Quite frankly I did not know where I wanted to live, but did not feel entirely comfortable anywhere.  I spent many nights at friends place, avoiding the ants that dotted the halls of the "new" apartment.  After finals it was too much and I left for my parents house once more.  This time however I had a plan.  I had signed a lease and planned to live with a friend from my frisbee team and two of her friends.  I am still living in that house, and it can be rough.  I have the basement to myself, and as a private person, I do not frequent the upstairs a lot.  I feel most at home in the basement, and like a trespasser upstairs.  But it is dark down here, and cold.  When it is humid it smells and there are bugs.  Yes I am more at home here, but not home. 

When will this end?  When is it that I finally feel home again? When I move to my next temporary apartment? When I settle down with a real job? For now I have this itch to get going.  I'd like to pack up my things and get onto the next place.  This isn't quite the place for me yet and I am looking for a new one.  The only thing is, I don't know where that is yet. 

On the road again

Since my last post I have not been home.  A total of ten days traveling will be had, and way too little sleep.

Readers, you last encountered your heroine (Moi) typing at a dingy Days Inn in Nashville.  In the past week I have played four more days of Frisbee, eaten five pasta dinners, went to the beach at least ten different times and have logged almost a thousand miles of travel.

A little bit to get you more caught up; last Sunday we won all three of our Frisbee games. I know I played well. With an appetite fit for a lumberjack and without any games the following day, my team and I went to a nice Italian restaurant and got ready for a feast. Unfortunately it wasn't as fabulous as our stomachs were growling for. There was not a soul in the restaurant when we got there. Usually this is a terrible sign, but it was nine p.m. and we had been done playing for five hours. It's just wasn't feasible to ask our stomachs to wait. On the bright side we got tons of breadsticks and as many water refills as a Frisbee girl could ask for.  Overall it was a delightful night for the team. We all settled in for the night and got ready for sightseeing the next day.

Monday morning started with a light rain that only got stronger. We attempted to go sightseeing, but the outdoor parks quickly lost appeal when we realized we might ruin our hair. After some strolling around we eventually entered a dark little bar and grill. One grilled cheese too many and we set off for St. Simon island, GA. 

Driving was like a five hour lesson on hydroplaning. The entirety of the Atlantic seemed to be precipitating on our little red subaru. At midnight we finally arrived to a four story beach house only a block from the public beach. Tan and identical to every other house in the block, it was home for a week.  The entire basement was filled with the eleven remaining girls from my team. Along the way others had left for other destinations. However, this didn't mean we would be lonely, we were joining the women and men's teams from UMD.  For three sweaty days we played Frisbee all day followed by beach trips and pasta dinner. Tan and full, we relaxed each day content with our work done.

Yesterday was our first free day, but many of us spent it sleeping in for the first time all trip. Frisbee is a serious business and we like to use all awake hours to play. The sport endures a lot of crap for being played by lazy hippies. While I have met a lot of hippies the past few years, few college players are lazy when it comes to playtime.

Thursday night I decided with a few others to stay up all night and wait for the sunrise. Pink and bright, the sunrise was just as beautiful as any other, a slight disappointment, but potentially full of unrecognized awe by my dull senses. Twenty four hours of running and tanning and walking and socializing leaves even the most chipper of people ready for bed. I was no exception. 

Friday was spent at the beach and cleaning. We said goodbye to our friends from Duluth, and they set off for yet another tournament.  With the house to ourselves, my girls and myself settled in for a movie and then bed.

Today we have been on the road for twelve hours already. As I time, I know the gift that is fresh air, open spaces, and food that doesn't come in a paper bag. I know we are driving toward a Minnesota in springtime, and I eagerly anticipate sleeping in a bed where only I have slept. I want fresh sheets and more than one pillow. I want to cook my own food and see my family. I love my team, but I'd like to be more than ten feet away from someone for more than the length of a shower. I miss drivers who use their turn signal, caribou coffee, and to watch the channel I want to watch.

That being said, I loved my trip and bonding with my team.  I know I grew as a player and made better friendships. I had a great time, and as ready as I am to be home, I wouldn't trade this trip for the world.

Spring Break!!

After many sleepless nights writing papers, making powerpoints and trying to solve the mystery that is Global Information Systems, I have rewarded myself with a vacation. In my own opinion it was very earned.

Friday afternoon I sent off with three girls from my Frisbee team en route to Nashville, Tennessee. Fourteen and a half hours of car ride and only stopping for the bathroom souls earn you an additional vacation.

My mom dropped off snacks for me. And by snacks I mean baby carrots, apples and oranges. We all shared snacks, but the girls were less willing to eat my health fair as I was to eat their cookies.

We made great time and got in after only thirteen hours, saving ourselves time and sanity. We met up with the rest of our team at a very shady days inn off the freeway. The steps to our room are rusting out, and our neighbors watched us arrive with their door open and chain smoking. The lot was crowded with double wide trucks and rusted out cars. We made our way past our neighbors and set up camp, but not before I accidentally set off the car alarm, waking every soul for miles. I'm sure even the deaf were bothered by my late night intrusion.

A mere four hours later we were awoken from our pitiful slumber. It was time to seize the day and play Frisbee. We're called the ninjas but moved as sloths, startled and not awake.

Piling back into the Subaru, five tired ladies trekked through a barely awake town to Vanderbilt University.

Twenty four women's teams prepared for battle. Sweat and sunshine drove us down the field for our first game. With an easy victory, we fought twice more, winning those games as well. Fresh from victory we squared up against our rivals, the Bella donas. They hail from Madison Wisconsin and the excitement is rising higher than the temperature.

As the sun beat down on us, we stripped of our warm layers, fighting the sweat as much as the other team. We went point for point until half. Then they scored six times to our one. We kept pushing until we scored four on them.

Two more points for them sealed our fate.  We had lost, but fought hard. With a smile on our faces we proudly marched back to the hotel, where we eagerly await our games tomorrow.

It's been too long

It took me awhile to write this post.  My last two weeks have been rather crazy.  This was my first weekend not working in a long time.  I was employed at Teavana for a very long time.  I really enjoyed working there, but recently working my shifts got harder and harder.  After winter break I started to lose steam.  We had to consistently push for sales, which was not my style.  Company policy was to push customers to the point where we would only relent after five no's.  In my mind this was ridiculous.  I don't know what a customer wants anymore than they do.  If somebody pressed me that much just to buy some tea, I would just leave.  After the holiday season my sales number started dropping after our customers were not as plentiful.  After struggling for the last couple months, I started looking for another job.  After I got my second job, I was ready to quit, but had some doubts.  I really wanted to take a trip to Norway this summer and contemplated working both jobs to make more money.

My first week of working double hours was not too bad.  However, the week before last Teavana scheduled me for thirty five and a half hours!  This is way more than part time and way more than somebody with a full credit load should be attempting.  I told my boss that I thought this was a bit much, but instead of helping me out, she asked me to swap shifts with someone else on Friday.  I agreed because it would free me up in the evening, and I believed I would be able to do all of my homework on Thursday night. 

When Thursday night arrived, I went to my friend's house after working.  He was familiar with the computer work I had to do, and I had the software ready to install on my computer.  This friend is a computer science major, and I figured my work would be done quickly.  I was very wrong.  I could not get the software to install.  After an hour of trouble shooting, we had to install the software on his mother's spare laptop.  Installation itself took over two hours, just transferring files to the computer.  By the time this was all finished I had to go home.  I had work at my second job in the morning.  I had until midnight to finish my homework and was very nervous now, that between working two shifts it would not get done in time.  Especially now that I had to work at Teavana earlier in the day and could not get into the computer lab if necessary. 

I slowed trudged through the parking lot, into the mall to start my shift.  I was so frustrated and the last thing I wanted to do was push people to buy tea.  I walked to the escalator and saw in front of me the girl who's shift I was supposed to be covering!  I walked into the store with her and asked her why she was there.  She said her appointment had been canceled.  But no one had thought to call me!  This was it,  the end of what I could bare.  Here I was, without the ability to do my homework and she was jsut hanging out in the mall.  I was beyond frustration and asked my assistant manager to talk with me in the back. I told her how I felt and that I would like to put in my two weeks notice.  She begged me to stay.  She told me a new manager would be coming soon and that everything would change.  She agreed that it was ridiculous that I had to come in today, and that I could go home.  I agreed to go home, but mostly just to do homework, not to think about whether or not I wanted to quit.  I knew I wanted to quit. 

The next day I went into work for my shift, having talked with family and friends the night before.  In the end it came down to this: I have a fixed amount of hours at my second job, no more, no less.  It will never interfere with school or frisbee.  It is a matter of minutes away from my house, instead of having to drive for thirty minutes both ways to work.  This was all really sealed by the fact that I no longer wanted to go to Norway over the summer.  It was not necessary for me to work so much anymore. 

I approached my manager and told her of my plans, but emphasized that I wanted to do two weeks notice because I would like to potentially work there again over the summer.  She promptly told me that I was not rehireable because my sales numbers were too low.  That is all it took.  As soon as there were enough workers in the store, I told her I was going home and left.  After months and months of tirelessly working for nothing, I was free.  I was embarrassed that I had to walk out, but there was an endless sense of relief that swept over my body as soon as I was out those doors.

This weekend I had my first free weekend and it was wonderful.  I was able to clean my entire apartment and do all of my homework.  I got to see friends and attempt to sleep in.  The whole thing was very lovely and completely worth it. 

Things I can't stand

You know what I hate? The volume buttons on the iPhone 4 and iPhone 4s.  I may have never climbed mount Everest, but one of the hardest things that I have done is use my fingers to tell the buttons apart.  For anyone who doesn't know, the iPhone "upgraded" from a toggle button to two separate buttons to increase or decrease the volume.  This makes it nearly impossible to determine which button is which.  I know this sounds like nothing, but when Skrillex releases his drop, precise volume control goes out the window and you run the risk of permanent ear damage from excessive WUB-WUBS.  

Making a design mistake is acceptable, even Jason Kidd misses 10% of his free throws.  BUT when apple "fixes" the iPhone 4 to make the iPhone 4s they pretend like this problem doesn't exist.  NEWS FLASH: It does!  This is what I hate! 

Thanks you,
Mary Nieting

In my free time in between playing frisbee and working the information desk at school, I work at a tea shop.  We sell over 100 different kinds of tea and I love working there.  Today I worked for a couple hours, and drank more tea that most people drink in a week.  

My favorite thing about tea is the variety you can get.  With over 100 teas that I have complete access to, I am able to make hundreds of combinations to match my mood.  Today I was in a sassy, playful mood.  I spent a lot of my trying to sneak small pieces of paper into my coworker's pockets.  By the end of the day I have 17 pieces of paper, four business cards and a paper clip buried in the various pockets of the people I work with.  

To attempt to calm my mood I made one of the rarest green teas in the world, Gyokuro Imperial and I mixed it with a jasmine Oolong.  The slightly sweet vegetal taste of the green tea pleasantly blends with the floral jasmine.  Overall it is very relaxing and my favorite blend.  If I had to choose one blend for the rest of my life, that would be it.  

Fruitier blends were the hit of today.  We have many herbal teas and one lady bought an entire pound of only herbal tea!  It may not seem like a lot, but a pound of tea is over 200 cups of tea!  She said she likes to ice it and give it to her children instead of pop.  I support this.  

It wasn't a very relaxing day, but I enjoyed my time and especially enjoyed my tea.

Directions for the Perfect Cup of Tea:

1. Identify the kind of tea you are drinking.  If it is white or green tea, steep at 175 degrees F for 2 minutes.  If it is Oolong or Black, steep at 195 degrees F for 3 minutes.  
2. To get the temperature right, bring your water to boiling.  Then add ice cubes.  For a 16 oz (standard coffee mug) add 4 ice cubes for white and green teas, 2 ice cubes for oolong and black tea.
3. Add your sugar or honey, but don't use the cheap stuff.  White granulated sugar adds a chemical flavor to your tea.  Steep for the right amount of time.  

Feel free to blend teas and experiment. Some of my favorite blends seem weird to everyone else, but I love them.     Do what you want.  Enjoy, preferably with great company or a good book.

Breakfast

Breakfast is hands down my favorite meal of the day, but for some reason also the meal I am most likely to skip or not cook.  SO, that means that when I do eat breakfast, I usually want it to be special.  This week I had breakfast a total of five times! That is actually an accomplishment for me.  It shouldn't be, I only cooked two of those five times.
My first breakfast was Monday.  I went to Al's Breakfast in Dinkytown.  Let me tell you a little bit about Al's, it is like no more than 10 feet wide and thirty feet long (not including kitchen).  You squeeze in and line up against the back wall waiting for a seat at the counter.  Waiting in line is a very important part of Al's, you cannot budge and your friends cannot join you in line; if you need to feed the meter, you lose your spot.  There are maybe fifteen red vinyl stools at the once yellow counter, which slightly leans towards the waitress waiting behind it.  An old man handles the grill, hashbrowns, poaches eggs, pancakes and toast.  He shouts out for more blueberries and yell at the kitchen to make more eggs.  Mind you the kitchen is on the other side of the restaurant.  Everybody shouts and the waitresses don't like waiting for you to make up your mind.  It is a lot to take in at first, but it is worth it.  I always get eggs with hashbrowns and wheat toast.  From time to time I change how I get my eggs, but always accompanied with the perfectly golden brown potato shreds and don't get me started on their toast.  Their toast is always better than mine, and it's only toast.  Mine is always dry and my butter is always too cold to spread, even when I leave it out on the counter.  Hot sauce, ketchup, and some pepper and it is always the perfect breakfast.  I went to Al's twice this week; my bus stop is a block away and I am always hungry at 9:45 on my way back home from my morning class. 

I made my own egg sandwich Thursday morning.  An onion bagel, cheddar cheese and one fried egg.  Pretty good, but I would rather have someone make it for me. 

Yesterday I made omelets for myself and a friend.  His was very attractive and perfectly cooked.  I ripped mine somehow, but my taste buds don't care what my food looks like. 

Today I went to Hoagie's Family Restaurant in the small town of Hopkins, Minnesota.  It is a small town institution.  Out of the five of us that went, four of us got the number four; two eggs cooked to order, toast and hashbrowns. One got extra bacon, making her number four really a number six, and Brian went for the special of the day, the breakfast burrito. 

It would be hard to pick my favorite breakfast this week; any breakfast with friends is a treat, but the people at Al's feel like friends.  I guess really, any breakfast is great as long as there is no oatmeal.