Baby It's Cold Outside

The last few weeks, Boston has been one big patch of ice. One big winter blast, with some of the blowiest wind I have ever experienced. That's right: blowy. And to add insult to injury (which to be honest, is a phrase I don't fully understand), not only have the winds been literal, but they have also been winds...of change.

Last week, BU threw a party for the graduating class to celebrate "100 Days 'till Graduation" which not surprisingly, was actually 94 days before our graduation.














The party was really fantastic. It was at Avalon, and it kind of felt like prom. After all, it was a big dance party with the people I've been in classes with for the last 4 years... prom.




























Proms are a lot of fun, especially when you know and like most of the people there. Truthfully, I don't remember a lot of my high school prom. I remember getting ready, picking up Jill, getting everyone in our limo, the pictures, the cocktail hour, and then the whole weekend after. But the prom itself is sort of a blur, and I attribute this to the fact that you can't choose who you go to high school with.

People always say, "You can't pick your family!" And they're right, but at least you can deal with your family. But you definitely can't pick your K-12 school district and everyone in it. Nor deal with most of them. Ugh.

Which is why I think college has been so fantastic to me. Because you CAN choose it. Despite the diversity across college campuses, my own included, there is a common thread that drew mostly everyone here in the first place. Race, religion, sexuality, social class, and all of those demographics aside, inside everyone at BU, something said, at the ripe old age of 17, "I choose BU... Even though it's so DAMN cold." And in that split second epiphany, we became bound together.


























During my stay here, I have tried to leave my mark. To say what I need to say. Which is probably part of the reason I keep this blog (if you want to psycho-analyze the shit out of me, and hey, who doesn't!). And while I strive to entertain and enlighten, part of me thinks that I can't possibly compete with the stupid things more famous people do and say on a daily basis.

How can I compete with Britney shaving her head and dropping her kids all over the place?

Or Tim Hardaway... how can I compete with a 4 minute homophobic diatribe which actually included the words: I hate gay people, I don't think it belongs in America or in the world.

Ironic. Isn't hate-speech like that how stuff like slavery started, Tim? Talk about the pot calling the kettle the N word.

Anyway.


With all of this going on, people still manage to talk about the weather like it's news. And it's not. But I'll indulge you a tad longer, because as winter comes to a close, I will cherish the last few weeks of being able to skate on the self-made frozen pond in front of my building.















And most of all, I look forward to the continuous inspiration my muse brings me. Whether I need advice, opinions, an ear, choreography, workout tips, creativity, or just a breath of fresh air, I know exactly who to turn to. Once in a while, I think it's healthy to be obsessed with someone who just might be obsessed back. Plus we just love to dance with each other. It's that simple.



















I have a lot coming up, which I am excited to be able to share with you in the coming months. I'm spending spring Break in San Francisco with Chris and Rachel, two people I spent so much time with as a kid, and almost none at all as a young adult. I've never been there, so I can't wait to re-acquaint myself with them, as well as a new city.

And then in the summer, hopefully re-jewifying myself with a trip to Israel. The weather there is much different, so I hear.

But that's it. From here on out, I am done talking about the weather. Because the weather is what's going on outside, and I have a feeling that what's happening on the inside is much more interesting.

And obviously, that's where I plan to be.

Now for the Oscars.


Peace out, readers.

This time, it IS rocket science

There's been a lot of interest recently in this blog. Like, who authors it, what it's all about, what motivates the subject matter.















"What sort of interest?", I hear you asking. Well, I recently entered it in a contest at my school as the best student blog. Also, this really awesome writer from BU-Parents Magazine interviewed me on the subject. Come April, every parent of a BU student will know my name, face, and web address. Surely this will help launch me into blogger super stardom. And that's been the goal since day one. Duh.

I always kind of thought of this space as a reality show starring myself, which is ironic because I hate reality television. But also not ironic, because I am my favorite subject. But more on that later.

It has been quite the news week. First, let's take an inch to mourn the loss of Anna Nicole Smith.







I later learned that the last video footage shot of her body being wheeled out of the hotel sold to some trash news website for $500,000. That pretty much makes me sick to my stomach. But who can blame them? Look at what the "news" has become in this country:

Bostonians are retards, mistake Lite-Brites for bombs. SHOCKING!

Gay Reverend Haggard cured of all his gayness. Right.

Crazy bitch in a diaper causes scene at airport. Come on people, this is a love triangle, not Rocket Science........

FCC tightens strings after Janet, keeps Superbowl empty of all adult content. Umm...











That's one of the biggest adult contents I have ever seen.

The news is depressing, especially when it's NOT NEWS. My dad sometimes thinks I live in a bubble and tune out current events and world issues. That is completely false, but when this is the news we are force-fed, tuning out almost sounds like a better option.

Which is why I turn my attention to other, more entertaining things:

Saturday, Maura and I went to see Paolo Nutini at Paradise.


























Paolo is just 19, but he sings and writes like an artist much much older. He mixes Marvin Gaye soul with Simon & Garfunkel folk rock. Think "Let's Get it On" meets "Mrs. Robinson". I guess my favorite of his songs would have to be "Let's get it on with Mrs. Robinson." Yea. That's the one.















Oh and he's Scottish----> Melt.














I love small concerts like that, where you are literally inches from the artist. But I also love gigantic arena shows with huge production value. So on Tuesday I went and saw Justin Timberlake.














Justin has come a long way. For a long time I thought he was just a pretty face with a backup vocal track. But delightfully, he has proved me wrong with his latest record and this concert. Singing live, he sounds impeccable. He played the piano, and the guitar, danced his ass off, and put on a show that was over 2 hours long. That's impressive. Plus the record rocks, no contest.














At both concerts, I got to thinking about how much success these 2 guys have. Paolo is just 19 years old, and has already opened for the Rolling Stones. I'm 3 years older than him and what have I done?

I mean, I'm a good singer, and a pretty decent dancer, (Hellloooo Broadway Kids!!) but you don't see me on "American Idol" or "SO, You Think You Can Dance!!" And I'm crafty in a kitchen, but I'm no Top Chef. Sometimes I think reality show contestants have it so easy, because God obviously only gave them ONE thing to worry about being amazing at :)

So maybe this blog really is the reality show starring me.



















I'll never be on "So You Think You Can Dance!!"

But that's just because they don't make a show called "SO, YOU THINK YOU'RE AWESOME!"



PEACE OUT!

-evan

(computer photos courtesy of K. Travers)