Allston Revisited

We as humans are always moving forward, on a linear path toward the "bigger and better." We look to the past on occasion for nostalgia and comfort, but we also use the past as a reference for how much we've developed as individuals. We look back and thank the heavens that we no longer live that life, or with that person, or in that place.

Have you ever returned to a place that represents a darker time in your life?
I did just this past weekend.

When I was a sophomore attending Berklee College of Music in Boston, MA, I moved from my inner-city dorm on Massachusetts Ave to the community of Allston, just West of downtown. I moved with my roommate from freshman year, along with a friend of hers, into the third-story apartment of a house on Harvard Terrace, just off of Harvard Avenue. I only lasted a semester there before I reached an all-time low, which resulted in my taking a semester off from school that Spring.

Even during my freshman year, I never felt that I was nurturing any permanent or long-lasting friendships, and that I was almost falling into groups of people by default, just happy to be hanging out instead of searching for people I truly connected with. Though my friends were fun, they didn't embody the kind of lifestyle that suited me (and they weren't always kind); I partied more than I created or exercised, and rarely found occasions to escape the "pit" of my apartment and Allston (being car-less and without much expendable income). I was busy with my cool city life, socializing, singing, and trying to ignore my increasing unhappiness.

A very urban district, Allston seemed, and still seems today, like a pothole of sorts. I am sure my impression of it has much to do with my associations and memories of my life back then: being so young, vulnerable, and naive. To its merit, Allston is a very ethnically diverse, young neighborhood, with a plethora of good eateries and interesting shops. It teems with activity, a throughway for the "T" light-rail line, and a major intersection between Boston and points West. Until this past weekend, I had not returned to this neighborhood, or Boston for that matter, since 2001.

A friend of mine recently moved to Allston. His first time living in Boston, he arrived in the neighborhood with no prior associations. I made a point not to talk too much about my negative ones with him before he moved. Ironically, he happens to live a few short blocks from my old apartment. Since I was in the Worchester area for a wedding this past weekend, I made the trip into Boston with my husband and sister.

As we drove into my old neighborhood and found a place to park, I reflected on the adult version of myself that stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk that I had so often walked almost 10 years ago. I am almost 29 now; I was 19 then. Everything I have done since then was stamped onto my identity in that moment, and I viewed my old neighborhood, and house, with a strange sense of awe, coupled with insouciance. Living there seems to me now like it did then - some sort of "boot camp for life." Live unhappily in a trench for several months and you'll come out wiser for the wear. The bruises will fade, but the lessons never will. To this day, I'm not sure if it was worth it.

Ryan, Brechyn, and I walked the streets on our way to meet up with our friend, Fred, as I recounted various stories about businesses along the way that I frequented during my séjour there. "This is the building where I took Ninjutsu;" or, "This is the bar where I sang with the reggae band every week." It was amusing to see that it was all still there. When we entered Fred's apartment, I was struck by the similarities between his Allston abode and others in that area that I recalled frequenting, including my own. The worn, hardwood floors; trim painted twenty times over with white paint; old, tall windows wafting in the musty Allston air - the thick smell of city life almost knocked me over as I stared out the window into the alley below. My feet were glue for a moment as waves of heady nostalgia hit me. An old familiar knot formed in my stomach, and I carried it with me to lunch.

(Aside: We had a delightful time with Fred. I don't mean to imply that the day was all gloom and doom. We ate at a wonderful organic sushi restaurant in Coolidge Corner, just next to Allston. One of many great eateries in the district, these are the opportunities I miss out on by living in the country. I will admit that.)

The sooty memories from that era still haunt me. I have not completely made amends; perhaps I never will. Boot camp left scars, not bruises.

I wonder now if these "dark times" are naturally imbricated in the experience of transitioning from teen-hood to adulthood. Must we all go through the boot camp of life in order to be truly happy as adults? How can we squelch the residual negativity from those bygone eras that continues to ring in our ears?

What was your darkest time? Or, are you in it now? Do tell!

Me, in front of my old apartment building, trying to make amends as a young adult in Allston

A Professional Dabbler: Deconstructed

In the middle of a busy week, I sit and ponder one of life's big questions. Well, at least one of MY life's big questions: am I spending my time doing what I really want to be doing? And what do I really want to do?

Do I want to be a professional musician?

• I have a gig tomorrow night with my sister as The Hello Strangers in Gettysburg. Luckily people like the way we sound since we have no posters, sound equipment, or any recordings beyond a 6-song demo to speak of. We have other gigs coming up that have been falling into our laps without any effort (which is good). But at what point are we going to take the next step? Or are we going to stay in this liminal pseudo phase forever?

Do I want to be a writer?

• I will be teaching at a Young Writers Camp in two weeks, which I have to plan for and convince these young middle school souls that I have some sort of legitimacy under my belt. I have thus put my writing for Hagerstown Magazine on hold for the time being. But yet I dabble...dabble, dabble in writing like everything else it seems.

Do I want to help run the photography business my husband and I own?

• I'm not the photographer - that's Ryan. But I do help out in many other areas such as accounting, production, creative input, etc. Yet, most of the time I am rushing through tasks at my desk before I run off to...

My part-time job at a screen printing and embroidery shop downtown, where I continue to show off my dabbling skills, doing anything from packing and hauling boxes, to ordering t-shirts and promotional products, to designing art on Adobe Illustrator.

Some days I just don't feel like a true musician, writer, business owner - a true anything.

Some days I feel like a fraud, really. We all have these days, don't we? Don't worry, I'm not falling into a pit of self-loathing and despair. Some days are just primed for such reflections.

I know there is a reason why I'm a professional freelancer and dabbler. I enjoy not having to do the same thing every day. But as a true perfectionist, I certainly reach moments when I feel like I have to do everything 100% with a 50% timeframe, energy, and focus level. At what point am I dabbling in too much?

Ah, life's big questions...

One thing I DO love doing: dancing with my girlfriends at Lithuanian Hall in Baltimore to old school soul and reggae!





It's summer, man, I gotta chill!

Gardening for 1 (and a dog)

I am nearing the end of my two weeks sans-husband. I long to see Ryan, but I long to still linger in these slow, independent, flying-solo days I've been having. The weather has been perfect. Sadie (pictured above) and I did some gardening, planting peppers and keeping an eye on our enormous tomato plants. She has been a great companion, almost completely eliminating the need for another human's company.

Of course, these days have also been filled with many social engagements, including two nights in a row of performing with my sister at our local tavern-on-the-square. We had a grand time seeing familiar faces and getting to know the bands with which we shared the bill. Tomorrow night will be a night out in Baltimore dancing with girlfriends. And then...he's back. I wonder which habits I will fall back into and which I will attempt to maintain from my weeks alone. I've definitely made the best of these days, as if they were a gift - something new to cherish.

What do you do differently when you are alone?

Flying solo for one more day!
Larissa

Is 1 the loneliest number?

I am alone tonight for the first time in a very long time. Being completely alone is a feeling that I always have to adjust to, like stepping into a hot bath. I grew up in a family of 6, and have always relished the feeling of having many people around me. Even now, I thoroughly enjoy having overnight guests and hosting parties.

My brother got married this weekend, and our farmhouse became the hub for almost every activity, aside from the wedding of course, including the bachelorette party, the bridal preparations, the after-party, and the after-picnic. I said hello to many, then said goodbye to many. Most people left yesterday, including a dear friend who is moving out of the area. The rest left today, including my husband who is working as a rock climbing photographer for 2 weeks. On top of all this, my sister moved out of our house and into an apartment with her boyfriend. I knew this would eventually happen, but didn't expect all these elements to happen at once.

Therefore, it goes without saying that the transition from "in good company" to "just me and my dog" was a bit abrupt. My fridge is full of wedding leftovers (beer and cake galore), and I have no one to share them with. I cannot look forward to my husband sleeping beside me. My friend, Fred, will not be coming over this week for our usual Thursday night music rehearsal (he is the one who moved). My sister won't be coming home from work at the restaurant late at night and making a pot of ramen noodles.

I am alone. But I am not lonely. I am surrounded by family and friends, have fun plans for the week, and will inevitably reap the benefits of being forced out of my comfort zone and doing things that my husband tends to do (like mow the lawn). Life goes on even though I have said so many goodbyes in the past two days. New eras begin as others end.

And as I fill my shopping cart with meals for 1, I look forward to uninterrupted hours all to myself...and to the next party.

Do you think 1 is the loneliest number?

My Favorite Things

"We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry." - E.B. White

I experience great joy from the simplest of things in my life. This spring has been lovely in so many ways. I find myself telling people who ask how things are going that I really feel like I am living the life I have envisioned for a long time. This often results in an expression of surprise from the person, since these questions can often elicit a laundry list of woes. I really am superbly happy with how things in my life have been unfolding, notwithstanding the occasional hurdle or moment of drama (life would be boring without these things!).

Thus, I am inspired to make a list of some of my favorite things at the moment - things which, upon thinking about them, make me stop and smile. I hope you, too, will ponder your favorite things and go out and experience them for all they're worth.

1. Breakfast - this is my favorite meal of the day. It is the simplest of meals, tastes splendid after 8-10 hours of fasting, and gives me time in the morning to contemplate my day and avoid getting off to too hurried of a start. I feel sorry for people who think that breakfast is unimportant and they "don't have time" for such a basic part of life.
2. Sweetsies Eats and Treats - this roadside wonder sits along Route 40 between Clear Spring and Hagerstown, Maryland, which is an oft-traveled route for us when running errands, etc. It offers the best soft serve that I've ever tried (barring Sandy's Frozen Custard in Austin, TX). I love a good soft serve cone, particularly plain vanilla. One lick of Sweetsies' soft serve and I melt!
   
3. Bustling around the house - I love to "tidy". It is my way of making sure that my little space in the universe is orderly and free from clutter so that I can go out into the messy world with a clean slate, ready for anything. The process of straightening things up is meditative and refreshing for me. I often think of Mary Poppins snapping her fingers as she tidies up the nursery, everything magically folding and falling back into its proper place. Did I mention I'm also a Virgo?
   
4. Playing music with Fred and Brechyn - this has been a weekly tradition since this winter, and it will soon cease to be since our good friend, Fred, is moving to Boston. But we have played several gigs together, enjoyed weekly jam sessions, laughed and guffawed at talking in silly accents, and had many enriching philosophical and musically-charged conversations. I'm glad I'll still have my sister, Brechyn, here as we continue on as The Hello Strangers.
   
5. Gardening - this is an activity that both my husband and I enjoy together, now in particular since we have been living in apartments for the past 4 years and never had a house, per se, at which to start a garden. The other evening we started a new bed of orange marigolds, purple verbena, and white astilbe. I love to clear out the weeds and plant fresh growth, then stand back and admire our work.
   
6. Sadie - I have written a lot about our dog. But let me just say that she continues to surprise and amuse me daily. I can't imagine life without her.
   
7. Riding my bike to work - I fly down the hill into town, my hair blowing behind me, my backpack on. I feel like a teenager again, as I retrace many of the routes I rode on when I was young. Then I ride back up the hill after work, knowing that I avoided pumping at least a little carbon monoxide into the air that day.
   
8. The Burning Spear live album "Live at the Zenith, Paris, 1988" - this is my favorite reggae album that I most often crave and blare throughout the house. After writing my Masters Report on reggae in 2006, I try to make sure I remain in touch with my knowledge and appreciation of the genre. Despite being recorded in 1988, the musicianship and arrangements on this album are timeless in the way that Winston Rodney (the frontman) does it best. I love playing this album for folks that are reticent about reggae or have only heard the cornier (and there is a lot of it) side of the genre.

What are some of your favorite things?

MCFA Mixer!

Dearest Readers,
I am still reeling from a recent event that I organized with my fellow council members of the Mercersburg Council for the Arts. I recently wrote about it on the MCFA blog. Please check it out! It affirms that the Arts are more and more important in this day and age!
All my best!

Larissa

Shoshone Sage

Shoshone sage crawls up a hill
where a skinny house with
horror film spires leans
against a clouded moon.

I find a spot behind my
motel gravel lot to take
this strange picture.
RV hookups, dumpster
But an owl too floats quiet,
my dog watches.

I raise my camera for
another good one,
but am startled by
a figure that appears in
my frame, like a tree
I hadn’t noticed yet.

The shutter flashes
against the ground. A young
person, curious to make
an acquaintance asks me
if I’ve heard the chimes
way up in the
Hitchcock tower.

The owl moves, the wind shifts
and we greet each other
between worlds.


Larissa Chace
Wapiti, Wyoming
6/26/02