The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

With a roll of toilet paper

Seriously Chelsea, seriously? 16 hours before your international flight takes off from SeaTac, and you go and get a cold?! WHAT THE HELL!!!

Excuse me while I go die.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Lauren Bacall surveyed the wreckage of the party and declared, "You look like a god damn rat pack."

I have a secret to confess. My Netflix queue is full of all sorts of movies. War flicks, Bollywood, 80's comedies, surrealist dramas, indie films, foreign films, intellectual documentaries... But the ones I really, truly, always want to watch are the classics. The black and whites. Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall and Paul Newman and Frank Sinatra. I was bumming around on the internet (looking at photos of Grace Kelly, God she's beautiful) when I came across a review/summary of The Philadelphia Story. You can read the whole thing here but I'm going to cut and paste the final bit so you can get a taste for its fabulousness. And, you know, so I can ruin most of the ending for anyone who's never seen it before.

Things are very complicated. Tracy has three men confronting her that she must choose from: her charming ex husband Dexter, her well-mannered, aspiring fiancee George Kittredge, and her present love Mike. (Chelsea's notes: Tracy and Mike spent the last night on a drinking binge. Tracy hasn't had liquor since she booted her ex husband, Cary Grant, out of her life. She can't remember much of what happened and fears her lack of control.)

Tracy: I had a simply wonderful evening. I hope you enjoyed it too.
Mike: I enjoyed the last part of it.
Tracy: Really? Why especially the last?
Mike: Well, Tracy, are you asking me?
Tracy: Oh, you mean the swim!...(They laugh together nervously) I did swim, and so forth, didn't we? Mike -
Mike: Oh, Tracy, darling...
Tracy: Mike -
Mike: What can I say to you? Tell me, darling.
Tracy: Not anything - don't say anything. And especially not 'darling.'
Mike: Then you're going through with it, huh?
Tracy: Through with what?
Mike: The wedding.
Tracy: Why, why shouldn't I?
Mike: Well, I made a funny discovery. And in spite of the fact that somebody's up from the bottom, he can still be quite a heel. And even though somebody else is born to the purple, he-he can still be a very nice guy. Boy - I-I'm just repeating what you said last night.
Tracy: I said a lot of things last night, it seems.
Mike: Okay, no dice. Also, no regrets about last night, huh?
Tracy: Why should I have?
Mike: Oh Tracy, you're wonderful.
Tracy: You don't know what I mean! I'm asking you - tell me straight out - tell me the reason why I should have - have! (But she changes her mind) No - don't.

Dexter brings an alarmed Tracy a strong drink (a "stinger") as a remedy - it supposedly "removes the sting." Tracy is reminded of the awful things she has done to her ex-husband: "Oh Dexter, I've done the most terrible thing to you!" Dexter doubts that she really means him - she must be thinking of George. Distressed, she asks: "What am I going to do?" Tracy rises when reminded that she must talk to George before the wedding: "I've got to tell him." Even though it is considered "bad luck," Tracy phones George to talk to him, discovering that he has already sent over a note in the morning, and that he also knows about everything regarding the night's happenings - and so does everyone else!: "Was he here too?...Good golly, why didn't you sell tickets?"

Sitting in front of her wedding cake, Tracy is upset and reaches out to take hold of Dexter's hand, and thanks him for helping her to accept herself:

Tracy: I'm such an unholy mess of a girl...But never in my life, not if I live to be a hundred, will I ever forget how you tried to stand me on my feet again.
Dexter: You - you're in great shape.

Dexter asks for an acknowledgment for his wedding present (a symbol of their previous relationship), and Tracy becomes concerned that he is thinking of selling the boat:

Tracy: It was beautiful - and sweet, Dex.
Dexter: Yes, yes. She was quite a boat, the True Love, wasn't she?
Tracy: Was, and is.
Dexter: My, she was yar.
Tracy: She was yar alright. I wasn't, was I?
Dexter: Not very. Oh, you were good at the bright work, though.
Tracy: I made her shine. Where is she now?
Dexter: I'm gonna sell it to Ruth Watrous.
Tracy: You're gonna sell the True Love, for money?
Dexter: Sure...Oh well, what's it matter? When you're through with a boat, you're through. Besides, it was only comfortable for two people. Unless you want her.
Tracy: No, no I don't want her.
Dexter: Well, I'm designing another one anyway, along more practical lines.
Tracy: What'll you call her?
Dexter: I thought the True Love II. What do you think?
Tracy: Dexter, if you call any boat that, I promise you I'll blow you and it out of the water. I'll tell you what you can call her if you like...in fond remembrance of me, the Easy Virtue.
Dexter: Shut up, Red! I can't have you thinking things like that about yourself.
Tracy: Well, what am I supposed to think when I - Oh I don't know. I don't know anything any more.
Dexter: That sounds very hopeful, Red. That sounds just fine.

Tracy's mother hands her the note from Kittredge, and it is announced that Sidney Kidd is at Dexter's house, reading the scandal report. Things are near "the deadline" as Tracy reads George's words outloud to Dexter, Mike, and Liz:

My dear Tracy: I want you to know that you will always be my friend, but your conduct last night was so shocking to my ideals of womanhood...that my attitude toward you and the prospect of a happy and useful life together has been changed materially. Your breach of common decency...

Coming in from the garden in a slightly belligerent mood, George interrupts the reading and criticizes her for revealing his words in public. She explains that she is among friends: "It's only a letter from a friend. They're my friends too." She goes on with the letter:

...certainly entitles me to a full explanation before going through with our proposed marriage. In the light of day, I am sure that you will agree with me. Otherwise, with profound regrets and all best wishes, yours very sincerely...

The bride-to-be gently responds to George's demand for an explanation of her previous evening's conduct. She vows that nothing compromising happened:

Yes, George, I quite agree with you - in the light of day and the dark of night, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health - and thank you so very much for your good wishes at this time...I wish for your sake, as well as mine, I had an explanation, but unfortunately I've none. You'd better just say, 'Good riddance,' George.

George denounces her, feeling that he has a right to be angry: "On the very eve of your wedding, an affair with another man." Finally, Mike speaks up, confirming that nothing happened:

Kittredge, it may interest you to know that the so-called 'affair' consisted of exactly two kisses and a rather late swim...All of which I thoroughly enjoyed, and the memory of which I wouldn't part with for anything... After which I deposited Tracy on her bed in her room, and promptly returned down here to you two - which doubtless you'll remember.

Looking at Mike all the time during the explanation, Tracy is astonished and suddenly turns on him - angrily demanding to know why he didn't advance on her. He replies that he didn't want to take advantage of her when she was drunk:

Tracy: Why? Was I so unattractive, so distant, so forbidding, or something - that - ?
George: Well, this is fine talk, too.
Tracy: I'm asking a question.
Mike: You were extremely attractive, and as for distant and forbidding, on the contrary. But you also were a little the worse - or the better - for wine, and there are rules about that.
Tracy: Thank you, Mike. I think men are wonderful.

George fails to see humor in the situation, even though Liz wisely remarks: "We all go haywire at times and if we don't, maybe we ought to." When Tracy admits that she had a little too much to drink, George is ready to forgive and forget if she will promise never to touch "the stuff" again. Tracy declines his offer and rejects her fiancee, even though apparently nothing happened the previous evening:

George: A man expects his wife to ...
Tracy: (interrupting) ...behave herself, naturally.
Dexter: (agreeing) To behave herself naturally.

She expects that her beau wouldn't jump to hasty conclusions about her escapade with Mike, and use his "imagination" to conclude the worst - that she was guilty of immoral behavior. She had hoped that George, at least, would have thought the best of her:

George: If it hadn't been for that drink last night, all this might not have happened.
Tracy: Apparently nothing did. What made you think it had?
George: Well, it didn't take much imagination!
Tracy: Not much, perhaps, but just of a certain kind.
George: It seems you didn't think anything too well of yourself.
Tracy: That's the odd thing, George. Somehow I would have hoped that you'd think better of me than I did.
George: I'm not going to quibble, Tracy. All the evidence was there!
Tracy: And I was guilty. Straight off. That is, until I was proved innocent.


3 days until Peru. The last week I've been amassing addresses so I'll know where to send the postcards. I'm not sure what sort of selection I'm going to find, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to dedicate at least 3 hours in Lima to "The Search for Postcards and/or Souvenirs With Which to Decorate My Pad". AKA the apartment where three boys have no idea what kind of Latinophobe is about to descend on them. Posters of Che Guevara, Isabel Allende, and Castro are in the near future (if I can find them.)
While I'm immensely excited about taking on a foreign country for three weeks, it's also a bit horrifying. I've left home before, sure, but that was with the intent to either make a new home, or I was only gone for a week. Three weeks is one very long vacation, and not nearly long enough to truly settle in.
But really, that's okay. The people I've talked to who will also be on this trip have the same kind of enthusiasm that I do. It can't go wrong.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Where did I put my gum?

It's just not safe to give me time off from my job and/or school. All that time I'd been spending inside, nose to the grindstone, gettin' things done comes to nothing. Once I come up for air I realize, wow, look at this money I've stashed away! How can I spend it?

I won't document the thrills for you.

I've been kicking around the empty new apartment for a few days. Last night was the lovers' wedding plus after party, and around 2 am I crawled into bed to sleep off the drunk. Around 11 Irene leans over and says to me, "Chelsea, I think someone just walked in the front door." So I stumble out of my room only to find my landlord standing in the middle of the kitchen fiddling with something. Surprise! He apologized, didn't realize I was crashing there for a few days. Seems like a nice guy. Anyway, I've been slightly hungover all day since, laying on the couches and watching tv until I got motivated enough to come down to Starbucks and use their internet. Of course, only after I got down here and paid for coffee did I realize that the only reason I couldn't hack the neighbors' wireless was because I'd been running my Linux system. I haven't quite figured out all the workings of Linux, and I doubt I ever will. That's why I've got a partition so I can run Windows, too.

No plans for tonight, think I'm going to go to Bed Bath and Beyond and look at curtains for my window. The ones provided in the apartment are missing some very important pieces. Namely the bits of dark plastic that keep the street people from watching me at night.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

400+ Damage

I broke my "don't spend any money until your first paycheck" rule. But who can blame me? Peru is coming up and I am getting excited. During my break from work today, I went down to the Tacoma REI and went buckwild! New hiking shoes, Chaco sandals, Hawaiian board shorts, regular khaki shorts, long underwear, two tank tops, and a head lamp. (The head lamp is my favorite.) Still on the list of Things I Am Going to Buy Today: a blank notebook, whose first pages will be covered with lists of more things I want to buy and What to Pack.

What can I say? When it's 6 am and I'm sitting on a stool, watching old folks soak in a jacuzzi, I make lists. It passes the time better than anything else I know.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


Some people have nightmares about being naked, falling, missing a test, etc. I have nightmares about being late for work.

I'll wake up at 1 am in a sweat thinking I've missed my shift. Any time a phone wakes me up, I instantly assume it's the pool wondering where I am. Some nights, when I'm especially exhausted, I'll toss and turn all night thinking if I fall asleep, I'll miss my alarm. In Georgia, I kept Irene awake one afternoon because I was tossing, turning, and whimpering. Guess what I was dreaming about? Being stuck in traffic when I was supposed to be teaching lessons.

I cope with this by getting ready very, very early. I set my alarm for an hour and fifteen before work when I know I only need 45 minutes. When I open, I'm usually at the door by 5:07, when the guy with the key doesn't show until 5:15. (How he times it perfectly, I'll never know.)

Right now it's about 12:40, I'll be leaving in 5 minutes so I'll be at the pool with a whole 10 to spare.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007


I've spent 24 of the last 48 hours at the pool. Forgive me for talking about it nonstop.

Adding to the pile of Shit That Has Gone Wrong this week, today we had a little girl bleeding in the locker room at the same time we realized the hot tub (you know, that steaming pool of festering bacteria) had absolutely zero chlorine in it. So while some staff ran around trying to find First Aid supplies and bleach, the other half was running back into the boiler room trying to figure out just what the hell happened. Twenty minutes after things had calmed down, the fire alarm went off and we evacuated the pool.

In other pool news, Creepy Asian Lady is officially on stalker watch. CAL was first noticed back at the old building, often standing near adolescent boys and giggling if they did something funny. She was particularly fond of wearing her white bathing suit, which we repeatedly told her was inappropriate for the pool. So then she started wearing her underwear instead. Push-up bras and panties, right into the pool. She also wore very thick eye makeup that ran all over her face once she got in the water. CAL never noticed.

Before, CAL was just creepy, and I was weirded out by her, but the staff never talked about her or gave her a name. Obviously, things are different now. Creepy Asian Lady cut off her hair, bleached it, and dyed it back to black in patches. She has a new, slightly modest one piece, and continues to watch the adolescent boys. A few nights ago she came to the public swim with candy and asked for some boys' addresses. Pool staff has gone into watch mode; when CAL makes her next appearance at the pool (we know she will, but when?) then we call in the managers and Shit Goes Down.

It'll be like an old-fashioned rumble. Think The Outsiders but wearing swimsuits and matching red shorts.

Oh! And finally, there was an old man at lap swim this morning with the most amazing Colonel Sanders mustache EVER. I kept looking at it and grinning; I wish I'd had my camera with me.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Very funny, moving on

In my last four years of lifeguarding, no child dared even ask me for a band-aid. I remained dry, calm, and completely out of touch with the finer details of cleaning up vomit.

In the last 48 hours, I've pulled a boy out of the winding river, sat and tried to keep a second-grader with a bladder infection occupied until her mom came to pick her up, walked into the locker room with a woman possibly having a heart attack, and attempted to put a leash on said woman's Cujo-like terrier.

What next? A spinal during public swim? Seriously, enough of the accidents. Enough filling out forms. I just want to watch the little kids play!

In other related news, I've started up my old 5:15 am schedule, only this time it's Monday through Friday. The same old men as last summer are coming in to swim laps. Bob, 91, and Dalton, the Santa Claus Lookalike, were sitting in the hot tub around 7 am.

Dalton: We've found the fountain of youth, Bob.
Bob: ... Too late.