The prices on studentuniverse were really high, actually, but that may be particular to this trip. Also, I lost my student ID with my credit cards (although of course I'll replace it just as soon as I remember).

The prices on studentuniverse were really high, actually, but that may be particular to this trip.

I think the deal with them is that you can get good prices, but only wicked far ahead of time. Last Thanksgiving, I flew home for $100, but bought the tickets around this time of year.

Not to mention last year they jacked up their internet publicized price for the Boston-DC trip from $83 to $117 when I actually got to the station and bought a ticket.

Different prices for buying ahead of time online as opposed to day-of at the station are pretty common.

The train might well be shorter, but also more expensive than flying. Flying's not too expensive, but necessitates renting a car once I get there. Put that together with a hotel...

Emily, I live in Alexandria, so feel free to email at my profile addy for questions, etc. I can also give you advice on airports and whatnot, possibly even crash space or a ride to/from the airport or train.

The hotel is booked and I'm fairly sure of getting rides (if nothing else, my roommate will be driving down, so I think he'd probably let me ride to the wedding with him). Tomorrow -- plane tickets! Although I'm thinking of attempting to wheedle frequent flyer miles from my dad -- he did just go to Cairo again, after all.

Emily, flying is so much easier and you shouldn't have too much trouble with getting around.

So, I have entered all of my students into my gradebook on my new district-issued computer. Which means, YAY! I can check their homework for five minutes before I go to sleep. Or maybe I'll just go sleep.

Yeah. In pretty much the same sense, alive and grateful for it, but kinda wondering, "well what the fuck do we do now"

Honestly, you just keep moving.

Thirteen years ago my family lost everything but each other (and that call was a bit too close) in a fire. For a week we wouldn't be out of sight of each other. It wasn't even conscious-- if one of us went to the kitchen for a glass of water the other three would follow within a minute or two. It was really weird when we noticed what we were doing, but we kept doing it. That week we were pretty much stranded -- the fire had happened between blizzards.

The following week we began picking through the sodden, frozen, filthy mess and salvaging some few sentimental things. My two teddy bears and baby blanket (that are right here) are among the few things from my childhood. It took a long time and what the friend we were staying with considered an unreasonable amount of work to save those few things. It was entirely worth it. When I press Theodora to my face and sniff as hard as I can I can no longer smell the smoke -- which was not the case for many years. I just sniffed her now to check. No smell. It feels wonderful. To anyone else she's a 35 year old rag. To me she's proof of the past and the future that kept coming and getting better even when it felt like it would do neither.

Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Sometimes it feels like a million years ago. The smell of a house fire can still make me tear up (or get anxious if I don't realize what I'm smelling, say its down the block and I don't know it). The upheaval remade us and didn't destroy us.

I know the situations are different. Our tragedy was just ours and our neigbors and not the whole city. Our family is not your family. Our family knew within ten minutes that we were safe and, while there were horrible 'what ifs,' we didn't have the prolonged terror so many people are experiencing right now. Much is different.

But I suspect much is the same too. You just keep moving forward. You save a few things to bring you (even if it is shallow) some sense of material comfort. My extended family sent us photos that my Mother had sent them over the years. My Mother's sisters gave us Christmas ornaments that had been gifts from THEIR Mother and identical to those we had lost. It was such a joy to get them 'back'.

You just press on. You keep moving. Eventually things are rebuilt and, weirdly, outsiders start to forget even though it is still a very much a living pain in you. You write. You cry. When you can't cry you read Liz Bishop's "One Art" until you do. You thought you were a grown up before it happened and now you know you were a child. Sometimes you get pissed at people who have no clue. Sometimes you envy them. Sometimes you pitty them because someday they will likely learn. Sometimes they seem like aliens.

It's a long process. But if you just stay alive and keep moving it happens. And you build new things. And you mourn the old things. And the wound becomes a part of who you are and that eventually becomes ok.

Hmmm. Maybe I'll forward that to Cyn.

You're in my heart, Heather, Dana, T... very much in my heart.

Oh, also, Kenneth Cole was our orientation dinner speaker tonight, and he's totally my new boyfriend. FYI.

Free shoes for everyone!

what the friend we were staying with considered an unreasonable amount of work

?!?!?! only if someone dropped dead doing it. sorry that you didn't have the support back then (I realize -- 13 years, you're probably over it, but I hate seeing bad situations made worse by insensitivity)