Adventures into the Unknown

2010-2011 R.P.I. Women's Water Polo Team

As promised in the discussion of my epic weekend, a post dedicated to the RPI Women's Water Polo team. For some brief history with my involvement with the team, my friend Alex has been bugging me to join since sophomore year. I met her through swim club, a mutual friend, and a general love of being covered in chlorine. Sophomore year, I went to one practice. I tried again Junior year and became more accomplished by going to two. Senior year, I promised myself that I would stick with water polo. While I may dabble in many things, once I commit to something, I stick with it 110%. This year, the only practices I have missed have been due to illness or job interviews.

Apparently in previous years, we have not had enough girls on the team to compete on our own. In the fall, the Water Polo Team competed as a whole in a co-ed tournament at West Point. Our team has varying skill levels from hard-core kids who have played for years to some who just picked up the ball for the first time this year. This really adds to the accomplishment that I feel we have as a team. It is a challenge to get individuals to work well as a group; it is even harder if you are starting from scratch.

The chronicle of the tournament started on Saturday. We all met around 8 a.m. at the Union, which is a bit of an accomplishment to begin with since there were birthday parties and the 100 Days' Party the night before. Now, we left on time. It should have taken us around three hours to drive from Troy, NY to Syracuse. That estimate, however, is under normal weather and road conditions. That does not account for 40 mile per hour winds, blizzard white-out conditions, black ice, and the length of three exits being closed on the I-90. Needless to say, our voyage was epic, fitting with an epic weekend.

Heading westbound on the I-90, we had to take a long detour on Route 5 to get to Utica to join up with the highway again. Sometime when I was sleeping (14 hours of sleep for three days is not advisable), all traffic was forced off the I-90. Apparently, coupled with the conditions, a tractor trailer collided with a snowplow on the road. To quote my teammate Anna,

‎"A tractor trailer verses a snow plow?! Who wins? It's like a bear verses a tiger"

Who wins indeed? The answer, my friends, is no one.

With conditions being a death trap, we somehow arrived in Syracuse only to find that it's horrible in the winter. I can understand Portland being unprepared to deal with snow and ice, and subsequently, have horrible road conditions. We don't get either conditions a lot, but Syracuse? Your city is in upstate New York. In the winter. It's not like it hasn't been an established city since 1847 or anything. Apparently, Syracuse does not know how to plow their roads in a timely manner, despite it having some massive hills. Again to quote Anna,

Syracuse: the virgin city. It's never been plowed.

Ah the fair virgin indeed. Our driver, Heather, lives in Buffalo. She's been to the Midwest. I do not question her driving skills whatsoever, so if she can't navigate the roads, I don't really know who can. While attempting to find Syracuse University, we slipped and slid around many roads and somehow did not hit anything. We didn't even hit anything once we found the campus, got lost, and headed down a utility road.

At this point, I would just like to mention the image I have of Syracuse now. There is a spot on their campus, that in the winter, with snow coming down and 30 mph winds, looks exactly like what I picture the aftermath of a nuclear fall out to be.

Due to our late arrival, the game schedule had to be redone, which caused us to end up playing our first two games back to back. That is 56 straight minutes of polo if you don't have a sub. I ended up playing about 50 minutes. Go try sprinting in a pool for that long after being sleep deprived. It's hard. Needless to say, much of the team was exhausted after that ordeal, and the exhaustion resulted in trips into the cold for food, caffeine, and then naps. Never has a concrete bleacher been so comfy.

Our last game on Saturday was at 8 p.m. against Colgate. I can not go into extreme detail about this game since, well I find it difficult to reflect when you are sprinting. I will say that we did win. That was the Women's Water Polo Team's first ever victory and boy did it taste sweet.

Actually, victory tastes more like bread sticks, salad, lasagna and a pomegranate margarita martini. Victory dinner was at the classy establishment of Olive Garden. If I die tomorrow and am fortunate enough to step through the pearly gates of heaven, I hope it's filled bread sticks. I don't think I've eaten that quantity of bread since District's for Swim Team at Jesuit. Despite our team's five-year-old maturity level, our coach was proud, our hearts were happy and our stomachs were very glad most of us wore sweat pants.

Sunday, the second and last day of the tournament, we played our last game against Syracuse. While we lost, it was a very close game. It served a greater goal of team unity and a sense of how to play with one another. In addition, it gave us another excuse to gorge on food, this time at a second breakfast at Denny's. Our ride home was fairly smooth and uneventful, filled with scenic views and loud music from the 90s. An epic end to an epic weekend.

Beginning of an Awesome Weekend

Sorry readers for my absence of postings. This past weekend was hella busy combined with a week jam-packed with academics subsequently resulted in a good deal of time away from the internet. That, and my "e" key still sticks on my laptop's keyboard, which approaches a level of annoyance that is ridiculously hard to stand. Minor grievances aside, the past few days have been awesome.

On Thursday, I was unfortunately late for my first class ever at RPI. Those of you who know me, are aware that I am one of those people, who if I'm late for class, I just won't go. I like to be between five to ten minutes early for class. My tardiness was well worth it though, because on Thursday morning, I received my first job offer! To say I was excited would be an understatement. As a senior, especially in this economy, having a job offer is a huge weight off one's shoulders.

Friday was crazy busy. After the job offer, my productivity completely went AWOL. Attempting to complete procrastinated graduate homework then became a challenge requiring a huge sacrifice of sleep to the integer programming gods. Friday subsequently dragged. I had class from 10-2, purchased groceries, helped friends plan some awesome 80's outfits (proof below), hosted the girl's Water Polo dinner, danced my fishnets off at the 100 Days' party, hit up my two favorite local bars and somehow didn't give in to exhaustion.


Above is myself, Erin, Sarah, Matt and Jason hanging out at Erin and Sarah's before the walk down the hill to the party.
Note: Crimping, hairspray and back-combing is awful to your hair. What were they thinking in the 80's?

On Saturday, I woke up deathly early for the treacherous drive to Syracuse for our first girl's Water Polo tournament. I will post more on that later, but all I can say, is I don't think I've consumed that many bread sticks in a long while. Also, I have no idea why anyone would live in Syracuse, NY. In blizzard conditions, it looks literally like a desolate wasteland after a nuclear fall out.

Stay tuned for the chronicles of Water Polo. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy not having class today and play some more Little Big Planet.

Stay classy readers.

In Portland Town, Oh Portland

By now, many of you, or anyone who is remotely internet savvy and possesses a facebook account, has heard of the internet show, "Portlandia" with Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein from SNL. If you have not heard about it or seen it, well that's why there's a link above. Go click and check it out.

"Portlandia" is a little show that both mocks stereotypes of Portland residents, neighborhoods, and the city's attitude while still being ridiculously hilarious. For anyone who lives or visits downtown, I personally think it's so amusing because of how close it hits close to home. While I technically live in unincorporated Washington County, I say I am from Portland. I hang around downtown a good deal, know the West side like the back of my hand, and can find my way around the East side. Also, you'd have to pay me good money to say I lived in Beaverton.



Many people know the show, but did you know that Portlandia is actually a large, iconic statue for the city? It's not just a made-up catchy title.

While "Portlandia" the show may be entertaining, I'm still not quite certain how I feel about it still, however, it did encourage me. On my last day home over Winter Break, I set out to be a tourist in my own city. Armed with my point and shoot camera, which apparently had almost no battery, I started in Pioneer Place and began to wander. Unfortunately, my camera gave out just as I was entering the Pearl. Pearl shots are subsequently captured with my phone, and by the time I got to the North West area and the East side, well, there's documentation in my mind, but not in any format that I can upload.

Thus, below, I give you another highly visual post. Welcome to some highlights of Portland. My Portland.


Children playing by a fountain is always adorable. Hi Pioneer Place.

These type of fountains are along both sides of the Pioneer Courthouse. What's cuter than otters?




Sorry bear, the otters are cuter.


The courthouse itself, as seen from the if you were facing towards the waterfront.


Awesomeness is awesome.


No writing about Ptown is complete without the Portland Man.



There is a special place in my heart for the food carts. Gold star to anyone who knows where they go to sleep at night.


Artsy-fartsy time. Welcome to the rear of the Arlene Schnitzer Hall.


In an attempt to take a picture of the works outside the Portland Art Museum, I accidentally captured a snapshot of a true Portland beard. In the Rose City, we do everything hard core.


Southpark Seafood Grill, why are you always so tasty?

This doesn't necessarily have a lot of cultural or historic meaning, but Clay is how you get to Sunset Highway, aka my mad dash home.







FINNEGAN'S! Prepare for pictures of stuffed animals. Finnegan's is the Northwest's largest independently owned toy store.


Where else am I going to find a stuffed Tasmanian Devil? Not the Looney Toons character.

Quality reading right there.

I have no idea what their message or cause was, but the signs looked cool.

Oh hi, Living Room theatre.

Please pardon the blurred pictures. At this point, I was taking pictures with my phone. While my little Droid 2 is awesome, it still can't compete with a quality Sony camera.

If I could die wandering the shelves of Powell's, I would be a lucky lass indeed. I love Powell's. That's about the simplest way to put it without sounding like a crazy fanatic. Powell's is the largest independent bookstore west of the Mississippi River. Powell's gives me hope for the world. It is the physical embodiment that print is not dead. If you are ever in Portland, visit Powell's. Take a coffee and get lost. It'll do your soul some good.

The Powell's pillar.






There is also Powell's 2; the technical bookstore, which recently relocated from deeper in the Pearl. Someone's got to stock books about mathematics, programming, and engineering.



Once again, I apologize for the picture quality. While hard to see the sign, this is the Deschutes Brewery Portland Pub. While I gained vast amounts of Portland knowledge when I was 16, obviously my knowledge of bars and pubs has been a bit minuscule. This was my first legal beer in Portland. I highly recommend the porter. On Portland beer notes, the Widmer Brother's hefeweizen is also fantastic.


Two gold stars to whoever can say this street correctly.

Unfortunately this is where most of the pictures end. I miss shopping at Ray's Ragtime and Three Monkeys. Getting my movie time in at the Fox Tower and then grabbing a donut at Voodoo Donut's. I miss the Cuban food at Pamiche. I miss flicks on the bricks in the summer, and the tree lighting in the winter. Portland is my home. Ptown represent.

Sexytime

The little amusements in life come to you in odd forms at random times. Sex is an integral part of who we are, no matter how puritanical, no matter how much denial, and no matter how much you don't want to hear about it. I have sex. You have sex. We have sex. Pronouns have sex. Therefore, people engage in sexytimes as it has been dubbed by my friend Chelsea. By the way, just to clear all doubt, I love you Chelsea.

Sex happens and most likely, if not now, or in the past, most people will engage in sexytimes at some point in life. If this is such a given in life, why are people hesitant to discuss it? We like Popsicle and we discuss those. We dislike angry cats, yet we talk about those. It is possible to talk about good and bad things, and while sex can be both and a flexible range of things in between, we do not talk about it. Why? This question is frustrating to me for many reasons: judgmental society, gender double standards, the virgin/whore complex and general immaturity.

The answer I would like to propose, or at least for this example, is the fact that sex involves people. For the sake of this argument, I'm not including bestiality and performing sexual acts on something that is not another human being. I'm not hatin', it just doesn't suit the framework of this argument. The proposition I present is that society as a whole and people are hesitant, or label it a taboo, to talk about sex because it involves people. The caring optimistic romantic in me chooses to believe that it is out of a natural tendency to not want to hurt or offend others, not because we care about perceived reputations, but for the protection of the partner. You did what? With who? She wanted what? Those kind of questions break away the barriers surrounding people to reach their "true" selves. While one's true self is glorious, beautiful and amazing, it can also be subject to high vulnerability.

Talking about, writing about, thinking about sex can reveal things about people. While they may be false, there also exist truths. The truth is real, brutal, harsh and chilling. It can tear friendships apart, turn friends into mournful strangers and continue to exist as a haunting thirsty ghost long after the initial blow is struck, however, it can reinforce the beauty in friendships and remind you of a treasure you thought you lost.

I am aware that I'm getting kind of preachy and "deep" here, but well, this is subject to my ramblings and rants, and no matter how much I'd like to deny it, I have some things on my mind. I am a whole person, I am comfortable with myself and I feel that I am finally getting close again to being able to call myself a good person. I guess ramblings just wanted to flow out tonight. In relationships, from a one night stand to a intense committed relationship, be respectful. Be caring, considerate and courteous to your fellow man and woman. No one likes kicking walls.

On a lighter note, I also think people don't like talking about sex because the male form is floppity. Yes, floppity. No offense boys, but I think you are. We are all complicated, but we get a nice little cover. While it takes two people to make sexytime, a girl doing sexytime by herself is just a bit jiggly, while boy solo sexytime is floppity.

Finally, body image issues can go suck a blowpop for all I care :D