Bright College Years

Two weeks ago, I celebrated the 10th anniversary of graduating from college by attending my reunion in good ol' still-crime-stricken New Haven. It was, in a word, surreal.

Compared to the 5th year reunion, this weekend was way more chill. There were some similarities -- mediocre food, weird/amazing dance parties (see above photo), pretty low-shelf booze considering how much we all spent on tuition (not to mention spent to attend the damn reunion -- $225!). You see some friends you've stayed in touch with, a few that you haven't and are genuinely delighted to reconnect with even though because of Facebook you know about their new job/spouse/baby/book/sexual orientation. And then there are tons of randos -- folks you literally haven't thought about for ten years and those you never met at college. In other words, complete fucking strangers. But that's okay, that's what the open bar is for.

But after only five years out, reunion felt more cutthroat; many of my peers were in law school or med school, or in the throes of applying to one or the other. We all looked relatively the same. Few had married and there was maybe one baby. We were all basically the same amount of mature at 27 that we were at 22. And instead of just being pleasantly filled with nostalgia, I remember actively longing to still be in college instead of working and paying bills and dealing with shitty Craigslist roommates.

Not so this time around -- now we're in our thirties. Lots of my classmates have "settled down," so to speak. A few are even on their second marriages. Instead of bragging about careers, we have funny stories of failure to share that we all can relate to. Because despite our expensive degrees, we fucked up as much as any other 20-somethings and now we can admit it and have a good laugh.

I appreciated the more mellow vibe. And instead of apologizing/justifying my career choice, like I felt I had to do at the last reunion (one person literally said, "wow, that's so brave!" when I said I was getting my MFA in poetry), I fully owned up to the fact that I am a poet. And instead of snickering, people seemed supportive and curious. Despite not having a ring on my finger or a pregnant belly (babies were THE must-have accessory of this reunion), I felt okay about my life.    

Of course, no Yale reunion would be complete without a ton of a cappella singing. Whiffenpoofs ranging from age 27 to 90 performed, and my senior women's group sang a few songs as well, despite the alumni association's utter inability to provide us with any concert logistics. 

And speaking of singing, I'm proud to say that I was able to refrain from drunkenly wailing Adele's "Someone Like You" to my college sweetheart, who was there with his wife. 

 College boyfriend on the left; the guy on the right is my current roommate. Picture taken Sept. '99. I still have those pajama pants.

I also finally learned the words to our school song, "Bright College Years," and have to admit, they resonate a lot more now.

Bright college years with pleasure rife
The shortest, gladdest years of life
How swiftly are ye gliding by
Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?
The seasons come, the seasons go
The earth is green or white with snow
But time and change cannot avail
To break the friendships formed at Yale.

In after years when troubles rise
To cloud the blue of sunny skies
How bright will seem through memory's haze
Those happy, golden bygone days.
Oh let us strive that ever we  
May let these words our watch-cry be,
Where'er upon life's sea we sail:
For God, for country, and for Yale!

When you are a Yale student and everything is coming up roses/the future seems blindingly bright/you feel invincible, it's hard to believe troubles will ever cloud your skies. But it's true that when that happens, there are friends from your bright college years that will stand by you and remind you that things could always be worse. For instance, you could have gone to Harvard.

At Yale, we sometimes drink alcohol out of giant trophy cups.

Away we go....

This is my last blog post before embarking on an 18-day journey to China. I depart on Thursday morning and officially have entered the extremely excited-yet-nervous phase.

I'm traveling with the Yale Alumni Service Corp (YASC) and the main purpose of the trip is to volunteer in Xiuning County, which is in the Anhui province. Xiuning (pronounced "Shu-ning") comprises 9 towns and has a population of 274,000. It's located about 5 hours by bus west of Shanghai.

The YASC is organizing a summer camp for the kids of Xiuning -- I'll be helping with chorus and book club. There are a ton of different activities being offered, from photography to harmonica. Over 200 people, all somehow affiliated with Yale, are going. Many are traveling with spouses and kids -- I'm going solo. But like a contestant on Survivor/Top Chef/The Bachelor/any reality show would say, I'm not going there to make friends.



I'm going there to WIN. WIN CHINA. Well, not really. And of course, I hope to socially connect with at least some of my fellow travelers. But if I don't, that's okay. The resort where we're staying in Xiuning has its own karaoke bar, so I'm sure I can keep myself occupied there.

After a week of volunteering in Xiuning, the group flies to Beijing for three action-packed days of sightseeing (The Great Wall, Tiananmen Square etc). Then I will fly on by myself to Hong Kong for the final three nights. For the detailed itinerary, click here.

This trip is coming at just the right time for me -- I have been feeling stalled professionally and personally and an international summer adventure will hopefully invigorate me for the fall.

And now, some amusing Mandarin idioms, courtesy of Chinese for Dummies:

gua yang tou mai gou rou: to display a lamb's head but sell dog meat, i.e. to cheat people

da ao jing she: to beat the grass to frighten the snake, i.e. to give a warning

che shui ma long: cars flowing like water and horses creating a solid line looking like a dragon, i.e. traffic

Hu shuo ba dao: to talk nonsense in eight directions, i.e. to be full of crap

I will have internet access for most of the trip, thanks to my iPad...not sure if I'll have time to blog, but I'll do my best!

Weekend update

I rarely use my blog as a forum to merely recap my activities (I like to kid myself by thinking people who don't know me might enjoy reading this), but sometimes, a weekend is so epic that it merits some 'logues love. This past weekend involved celebrity sightings, trips to two cities where I used to live, and a lot of singing women.

On Friday, I took the bus to New York City. The purpose of my 16-hour visit was to see "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson" at the Public, directed by my friend from college, Alex Timbers. Alex is pretty much a celebrity now in his own right -- when the New York Times profiles you and describes your show as "devastatingly shrewd," you've pretty much made it. (Though my personal favorite description of Alex came from performer/writer Mike Daisey, who described him as "a cross between Jesus Christ and Ashton Kutcher"). I had the pleasure of being directed by Alex back in 2006, when I played a roofied-and-raped suicidal rave girl in Hell House:


Another sign that you've hit the big time? When STEVE MARTIN comes to your show. That's right, I saw Steve motherf*cking Martin on Friday night. I walked past him on the way to the ladies' room at the Public. We locked eyes and I gave him my best "I know who you are but I'm going to be cool about it and not say anything or ask for your autograph" smile and he responded with a relieved "I know you know who I am and thank you for not making a scene" expression. We had a moment, it was nice.

The show is incredible -- definitely check it out if you're in the New York vicinity between now and May 9th. I mean, it's an emo-rock musical about Andrew Jackson and the Populism movement. What's not to love?

After the play, I went to a fundraising party for an indie film some friends of mine are involved with. And who walks into the party just after midnight but Zachary Quinto, a.k.a. Spock from the new Star Trek movie (or Sylar, if you watch Heroes). Now, keep in mind, when I lived in New York, I never saw famous people. Apparently, they don't ride the G train or frequent the midtown Kaplan center. So seeing two in one night was pretty nifty. ZQ was very affable and charming, btw.

So that was Friday night. Saturday morning I boarded a Metro North train bound for New Haven. Now, a lot of people hate on New Haven -- sure, it's a little ghetto and not as shiny and gentrified as, say, Cambridge, but I still love it. I came back to celebrate the 40th anniversary of The New Blue, Yale's oldest women's a cappella group, which was founded in 1969, the first year of coeducation at Yale. New Blue is actually the oldest women's organization of any kind at Yale. And I was lucky enough to be a member, from 1999-2003.

At the reunion, I met women from the original class of New Blue and it was incredibly moving. There was a lot of singing, hugging, and crying. As I'm writing this, I'm realizing there's really no way to describe what I felt singing alongside true pioneers, the first women to graduate from Yale. It sounds cheesy, but they paved the way. And being in a room full of strong, powerful, beautiful, smart women is an experience I can't really put into words.


At one point during reunion, we sang a song called "River of Birds." The lyrics are as follows: "There's a river of birds in migration, a nation of women with wings." Those simple lines are repeated, starting with one voice singing alone and slowly building until there are multiple harmonies and voices. While we were singing, one alum's four-year-old daughter ran up to the stage and started singing along. Not a dry eye in the place, trust me.

So that was my weekend. How was yours?

Higher Education

Inevitably, once I get to know someone in a work or school setting, they ask me where I went to college. Sometimes my answer of "Yale" elicits a nonchalant nod or "Oh." But more often than not, I get something more along the lines of "Whoa" or "Wow," which makes me feel a little proud but also nervous because people tend to associate going to Yale with not just being smart, but also being a rich snob. I'm definitely not rich and I do my best not to be a snob (though I have pondered the question).

But let me assure you, you should not be intimidated by my alma mater. There were plenty of absolutely ABSURD classes offered at Yale, classes with arguably little to no scholarly merit. Here is a sampling:

Science Fiction, Science Fact? (Physics)
This class examined the actual "science" behind stuff from Star Trek and other sci-fi pop culture gems. Like, how would a Holodeck actually work and is beaming even theoretically possible? Most of my friends took this class pass/fail and, I kid you not, came very close to failing. Turns out, there was actual math and science involved.

Mass Media and Mass Culture (Sociology)
All I know about this class was that those who took it got to go on a field trip to Chicago to attend a taping of The Ricki Lake Show. The topic that day: "I Can't Live Without My Weave."

Computers and the Modern Intellectual Agenda (Computer Science)
I was dumb enough to attempt this one, only after I was assured that no actual computer programming would be happening and that my shaky understanding of how the internet works would not be a problem (tubes underground? magic?) Joke was on me, though -- the professor, who was missing one hand because the Unibomber sent him a bomb in the mail, hated me. Maybe because I never did the reading or went to class. And that, boys and girls, is how Katie got her one and only C in college.

Local Flora (Biology)
Some schools have "Rocks for Jocks"; we had Local Flora, a.k.a. nature walks for stoners. The class consisted of long walks through New Haven's less urban areas and then...discussions about those walks.

Heterosexuality (Women's and Gender Studies)
When I told my mother about the existence of this course, she began to seriously question the monetary investment in my Ivy League education. My freshman year boyfriend signed up because he saw in the syllabus that he'd get to read a lot of Maxim. You know, to understand how his heterosexuality was socially constructed.

Camp as a Genre (???)
As opposed to an childhood summertime institution. Can't remember which department offered this, but every gay man on campus tried to take it. The coursework included screenings of John Waters films and Oscar Wilde's Salome. My roommate Laura wrote a research paper on Showgirls. I truly regret not signing up for this class.

Doomed Love in the Western World (English)
This was a legit seminar, with an awesome reading list (Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina, House of Mirth etc). What made it funny/tragic, however, was the fact that it was taught/created by a member of the faculty going through a messy divorce with another faculty member. Whom she did her best not to trash talk, even though the entire campus knew he'd been caught cheating on her with a grad student. Despite her middle age, the professor started to coming to class in leather pants and occasionally let personal details about her new single life slip (like the fact that she was sleeping with the young Italian guy she hired to paint her new apartment).

So you see, my undergraduate education had its questionable moments. I'd love to hear what ridiculous courses you readers may have encountered in your pursuits of higher education. Oh, and speaking of higher education, my junior year I took a class called The High Modern Novel. And on 4/20, as you can guess, it became the Really High Modern Novel.

Finally, let me settle this once and for all -- Yale is nothing like this:

Feb Club

Last night, I participated in the Yale tradition of Feb Club, or now that I've graduated, what's referred to as Feb Club Emeritus, or Feb Club for Old People. At Yale, in acknowledgment of the universally agreed-upon fact that February is the dreariest, worst month, there are parties every night because time passes faster when you're in a persistent drunken haze. Feb Club started sometime in the 70s and in 1989, The New York Times even wrote an article about the phenomenon.

Three years ago, some alums got together and made Feb Club an international initiative and now, there is a Yale-sponsored party every night of February in various cities around the world. What can I say, we Yalies take our alcoholism to a whole 'nother level.

I had some reservations about going to Feb Club -- the tickets cost $20 (which included a drink ticket, appetizers, and free Mory's Cups for the first several hours) and I was pretty sure I wouldn't know anyone there since I haven't attended any Yale Club of Boston events. I bought two tickets, but at the last minute, the person who was to be my guest backed out. So I came very close to not going.....but damn, am I glad I did.

This may sound dumb, but Yale people are my people. I've had mixed results making friends in Boston, but last night, in a room full of strangers, I had more fun and felt more like myself than I have in months. I successfully finished a purple cup, which for the uninitiated, means I drank booze (in this case, a mix of chambord and champagne) from a silver trophy cup and then put the empty cup on my head. I reconnected with a few folks and met a ton of new people. And the venue, the Foundation Room at the House of Blues, was gorgeous and staffed with patient bartenders who learned all the cup recipes.

I had to sign a waiver permitting Feb Club Emeritus to use any photos taken of me last night and I'll probably regret that decision....but will add them to this post when they are available. In lieu of those photos, I'll post some old ones featuring Mory's Cups from my own Bright College Years.

Boola Boola

As some of you may know, this Saturday marks the 125th anniversary of the Harvard-Yale Football Game, an event categorized by immense anticipation, binge drinking, and very poor athleticism.

In case you are not sure which team to root for, let me help you out. First, click here for some appropriate music to play while you read.

1. Yale's team is the Bulldogs. Bulldogs are cute and feisty (just like me!)

Harvard's team (and their daily newspaper) is the Crimson, which reminds me of my period, as well as that scene in "Clueless" when Alicia Silverstone tells Wallace Shawn she is "surfing the crimson wave." To summarize: yuck.

2. BILL CLINTON went to Yale! George Bush also went to Yale.


3. Yale's fight songs were written by Cole Porter. Perhaps you've heard of him?

4. The Yale Precision Marching Band, in addition to featuring standard band instruments, includes violins, bagpipes, accordions, keyboards, cowbells, triangles, and air guitars. Their halftime shows are more about pyrotechnics than fancypants formations. Basically, they like to blow shit up on the field.

5. Harvard sucks (and Princeton doesn't matter).

There are too many other reasons to list here, but basically, GO ELIS, and wear blue on Saturday! If you're in the Cambridge area, visit me Friday night at Hong Kong in Harvard Square or track me down at the Yale Club of Boston's tailgate on Saturday.

My new job

Mom and Dad would be so proud.

Ok, so technically, I don't work at Club Fuxxx, but The Comedy Studio, where I am a waitress two nights a week becomes Club Fuxxx at 11 pm on Fridays and Saturdays. Located on the third floor of the illustrious Hong Kong restaurant and bar, Club Fuxxx draws mostly Harvard kids who enthusiastically and poorly dance to hip-hop after drinking a few too many Scorpion Bowls.

Observe:

The woman on the far right looks like she just got an enema.

I'm thinking about submitting info about my new job to the Yale Alumni Magazine for inclusion in the Class Notes section. The entry might look something like this:

Brooks Madison (JE) just passed the California bar exam and will be joining the prestigious law firm of Miller, Toppleman, and Krauss next month. Best of luck, Brooks! McKenzie Adams (SM) and Douglas Dalton (TD) recently tied the knot at Martha's Vineyard in front of a crowd of 350 which included many Yalies and Ivy League graduates. The ceremony, according to bridesmaid Lindsay Taft (SM), was extremely elegant and tasteful. Katie Vagnino (BR) just got a job as a cocktail waitress at Club Fuxxx in Cambridge, MA. Drs. Suzanna Spitz-Boone (DC) and Pierce Boone (MC '01) recently returned from a three-month Doctors-Without-Borders tour in Kenya and are thrilled to annoucnce that they are expecting their first child in March.

One of these things is not like the other....