A Tale of Two Engineers

Imagining your parents being “in love” is hard.  It’s a concept you often push to the side when you’re younger because it’s either awkward or seemingly unimportant.  You don’t really question the circumstances that led them together.  Instead, you simply recognize the fact that they must have cared enough for each other at some point to legally bind themselves to one another and eventually procreate.  But that’s really as fas as you go.

At least that’s how I always approached my parent’s relationship.  I knew the basics of their story.  They met at NASA, they had a nerdy 7 month relationship, and then they got engaged.  Fast forward a few years and then I was born (which I always viewed as the start of the REAL story).

It came as a bit of a shock to me a couple of weeks ago, when I found there was a bit more too it than that.  I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the details, but it just took me 22 years to actually ask.  And as my mom and dad recalled it, it seemed that they had almost forgotten about the details themselves.  (By the way, if you’re not interested in my parent’s EXTREMELY nerdy courtship, then the rest of this post is not for you.)

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The first day she came into work, he was there.  So in other words, she never knew NASA without him.  They were assigned to the same project team, and she had a very sudden, very distinct, first impression:

“I don’t like him.”

He was extremely aggravating, always bugging and teasing her, and he would not stop talking.  She would go home to her mom and complain about how much she hated Texas and everyone in it.  Mostly, a certain annoying coworker.

But as time wore on, his jokes started to grow on her.  After some time, she realized he only had a small pool of jokes from which to pull, and he mostly recycled through the same material again and again.  So in an attempt to save time, she wrote out all his puns and quips on a chalkboard, assigning each one a number.  She then told him whenever he felt compelled to say one of his jokes, he would just say the number instead and that she would still laugh as if it were funny.  Typical engineer, flirting with her time management skills.

The hard shell she had initially put up was starting to soften, and she began to like him more and more.  Meanwhile, he was a nervous wreck.  Growing up, he had never had a single girlfriend (being president of Mu Alpha Theta doesn’t exactly make you a ladies magnet), so it took him an entire month to get up the courage to ask her out.  He invited her out to Mardi Gras in his hometown of New Orleans.  She says she doesn’t remember much from that week, except coming into consciousness on his shoulders in Bourbon Street from time to time, holding her second or third hurricane.

They’re relationship was an explosion of cute.  Like “Dungeons and Dragons playing, Star Trek convention attending” cute.  Nothing could go wrong.  Nothing, until HER.  A pretty summer intern apparently also had her eye on our hero, mentioning to a coworker that she intended on stealing him away.  Our heroine was beside herself with jealousy.  The intern was pretty AND tenacious, a killer combo.  But fortunately her target was painfully shy and deflected her advances without effort.  Everyone was telling him of the intern’s motives, and all he could think about was the woman he was already with.  The more the intern tried to persuade him, the more he tried to show his girlfriend that he loved her.

One day, when he was alone with the young coed, she suggested they “go play tennis sometime.”  He choked up, not knowing what to say to her.  Instead, he knew exactly what to say to someone else.  A few days later, he popped the question to our heroine at dinner.

“Will you marry me?” he blurted out.

She looked down, and then back at up him.  He could see that she had tears in her eyes.  She took his hand in hers and uttered the phrase that everyone longs to hear:

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

Oh wait, did I say what “everyone longs to hear?”  I meant what “no one longs to hear.”  While she loved him very much, there was also something she equally hated: Texas.  Born and raised in the Southwest, she longed to go back home, and she knew if they got married, she’d be stuck in what she deemed the flattest, most boring city ever.  So to be fair, she really was thinking about it.

Meanwhile, he was determined to not let her get away.  He had to do something to prove he loved her and that he couldn’t live without her.  He waited and waited, until one day, a brilliant opportunity arrived a few days before his winter vacation.  One day at work, he heard her make an off hand comment to a coworker:

“I like a man with a full beard.”

At that moment, the sky all but parted to reveal an angel choir singing “Hallelujah” on repeat.  His mission had been set, and it was simple: you have one week to grow a beard.

And boy did he ever.  Upon his return, she barely recognized her boyfriend and all of his newly grown whiskers.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is when she knew that he was the one.  She invited him to dinner and asked him to marry her, setting a precedent of our family defying convention until the end of time.

————–

One thing I’ve always wanted is a great story to tell people about how me and my significant other met.  I know my parent’s story isn’t rom-com worthy, but it was still cute to hear and more importantly, it’s all true.  So let’s just say I’m a little jealous, and I’m hoping I get a story equally as adorable as theirs.

Gene and Joyce during the "Money Dance"

If I Never Go Into a Starbucks Again…

…it’ll be too soon.  It should be noted that this post comes to you via the free ATT wifi of the Columbia University Starbucks.

Moving to New York has forced me to become a mainstream coffee drinker.  I think I have visited a Starbucks almost every single day since I’ve arrived.  And with every sip I take of my tall chai tea lattes, I grieve for the death of my non-conformist caffeine consuming ways.  But I also explain to the cosmos that it’s not really my fault.  The real blame must be placed on adulthood.

Life really hasn’t been “normal” since June.  Uprooting your world from Austin, Texas and transporting it to the largest city in America has turned out to be somewhat of a difficult task.  For one thing, I haven’t had a steady place to live until two weeks ago.  I’ve gone from my boss’s apartment in SoHo to a hotel room in midtown to my broker’s friend’s apartment in Harlem to (finally!) mine and Clair’s apartment on 123rd St.  My only constant companions?  Two suitcases.  One filled with clothes.  The other, shoes

Meanwhile, I somehow managed to hire the worst moving company known to man.  After showing up to my house in Austin WITHOUT ANY BOXES, rescheduling my arrival date about a gazillion times, and chastising me on the phone in Spanish, the movers have assured me that my furniture will be arriving tomorrow.  Soon Clair will have her bed all to herself.  Hallelujah.

I will miss that bed though.  You know, that one we found outside on our sidewalk.  Oops, Clair told me not to say that out loud.  But I don’t care! I can’t help but be proud of our find.  I mean, it’s a FREE bed, complete with box frame and head board.  Plus we febreezed it.  That should take care of all the syphilis hiding inside, right?

It also should be noted that our “disease ridden” bed is the sole piece of furniture in our house right now.  We’ve been refraining from buying too much since I have a buttload of stuff coming up here soon, and a lot of our friends have promised to give us some essential hand-me-downs.  So we’ve both agreed to be patient and only buy things that we absolutely need. These items include a shower curtain, a swiffer mop, and a plunger.  Never underestimate the need for a plunger…

Then lastly there’s the Internet situation.  The process of getting it in our apartment has just been one long…sigh.

And so here I am, sitting across from Clair , both of us mooching off of Starbucks’ free Internet, taking care of errands like managing the budget and Facebooking.  The other night, whilst snacking on some chips and salsa on our syphilis bed, Clair and I joked about our odd lifestyle as of late.

“If and when we finally make it, and we’re rich and successful, I hope we can look back on all this and brag to everyone about the time we shared a bed we found outside in order to get a leg up in New York,” she said.

But I don’t need to wait till then.  Cause even though life is crazy, I’m kindaaaaaa  loving every minute of it.

Except for Starbucks.  God, I hate Starbucks.

In Change There Is Power…and Rainbows

As I sit at my gate at Austin Bergstrom waiting to board the plane to New York, I realize that my mind is surprisingly calm.  After three days of furious packing, last minute trip planning, and countless tearful goodbyes, I think my brain is a bit exhausted.  There’s only so much love and heartache it can take.

Some have said it’s ironic that today is my birthday, but I find it to be very appropriate.  I couldn’t ask for a better departure from this city.  My memories of college are void of any bitterness or regret, and instead, filled with love and contentment. Plus I know that the people I have met and gotten to know along the way will always be in my life, whether it be through external contact or through the internal imprint they have made on my character.  I’d have to say, that’s a pretty good birthday present.

So here’s a big “Thank You!” and “See Ya Later!” to all of my friends who, like me, are starting new chapters in their lives.  It may seem scary, but I have faith that we all can succeed in taking the next step.  I’ll leave you with a quote (since I seem to like doing that) that helped me when I seemed unsure of what I was doing:

“It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.”  – Alan Cohen

And since this blog post has been full of SAPPINESS, I’ll also leave you with DOUBLE RAINBOW!!

Some parting shots…

Out, out, brief candle!

Okay, so the blogging in Europe tapered off a bit, but our travel experience got pretty hectic for a while.  If you don’t already know, vacations are STRESSFUL.  One of life’s great ironies.  Here is what to do if you actually want to go on a relaxing vacation:

1) Have days where you do absolutely nothing.

2) Minimize your travel party.

3) Don’t even think about writing up an itinerary.

Apart from the snafus that come with traveling with one’s parents, the trip was ultimately a success.  We accomplished everything we set out to do, and I’m returning to the states with many fun memories and European goodies.  Since far too many things occurred while on vacation that can be summarized here, I’ll give you a few trip highs and lows:

Highs:

- Seeing Macbeth performed at the Globe Theater

- Taking my shoes off at Stonehenge

- British people

Lows:

- Fish and chips

- Getting a full body scan at the Canadian airport and seeing the results.

- Having to explain the ‘Human Centipede’ to my mother.

While this whole trip has been amazing and a once in a lifetime experience, nothing beats what I get to do now: come home.  And once I get back, a whole new adventure begins.  Yikes.  I guess I’ll just look to Lady Macbeth for some advice (even if she’s talking about killing people).

‘But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail.’

Parlez-vous anglais? Good!

My french skills are really coming in handy here.  I mean, I’m having entire conversations with native Parisians!  And by entire conversations, I mean I can successfully ask where the bathroom is and ask them if they speak English so we can continue the rest of our conversation that way.  Ah bien, c’est la vie.  To be fair, I’m doing alright in the language department, I just have to keep practicing.

Oh what to say about Paris.  Just that it’s exquisite.  We’ve been to the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triumphe, and Montmartre, all of which have been wonderful.  Montmartre was by far my favorite place to visit.  Sorry, there won’t be many pictures from there because I was having too much fun just experiencing it.

But I definitely have a whole new crop of photos for you today.  One thing I’ve been trying to avoid with my photography is this:

The mob.  So far, I’ve been doing an okay job of making it seem like there is no one else around.  And I know; I’m very much a tourist too.  But blargh!  Sometimes it’s hard to walk a couple of steps forward because there are so many people crammed together.  This particular group of picture takers is crowded around the Mona Lisa.  She was pretty cool, and I of course snapped a couple shots of her, but I tried to spend some time with the other paintings in Ms. Lisa’s room.  And that’s how I came across this guy:

He (Jacopo Robusti’s self portrait) hung on the wall perpendicular to Mona Lisa’s wall.  What a haunting stare.  And what a cruel fate, as well: forever gazing at a massive crowd showering copious amounts of attention on someone else and always passing you by.  If I were him, I’d probably have a similar look on my face.

As per usual, I shall round out my post with some pics. Comments…away!

Espacez les prises d’au minimum 4 heures…

Rome: complete.  Paris: begun.

Unfortunately cousin and I have fallen ill, her more than me, so we’ve all been trying to recuperate.  I bought some throat lozenges at a pharmacy outside our hotel in Paris (which is gorgeous, by the way), and started popping them like candy. BAD IDEA.  While I may know some French, I do not know enough to read the descriptions on the back of the pill box, so I went into a small drug induced dizziness while wondering around the Arc de Triumphe.  Oops.

Since we got here, we’ve been trying to convince Dad to go to dinner and a show at the Moulin Rouge.  Then this conversation happened:

Dad: I don’t know if I want to spend that much money.

Mom: But don’t you want to see scantily clad women dancing the Can Can?

Dad: I already have you to do that for me.

Mom: (laughs uncontrollably)

Me: (sobs uncontrollably)

Despite that little experience, I can already tell that Paris will be my favorite.  It’s the city that New York wants to be.  The only problem is everyone looks so freaking gorgeous and stylish all the time.  I’ll have to step up my game.

Anyway, here are some pics from Pompeii.  I tried to experiment a little, but not sure if anything good came from it.  Again, comments and criticisms are welcome.

Immortalized in Fresco…and Ninja Turtles

Visiting the Vatican makes you want to be Catholic.

This was our tour guide, Vincent.

But he let me call him Vinny.  He was extremely passionate and animated when describing the different frescoes and the meanings behind the paintings of Raphael and Michelangelo.  Here he is describing the Sistene Chapel.

Here he is being a cutie.

Then he said he had a girlfriend, so I stopped taking pictures of him.

Since I never studied art history, learning about all of these paintings and their meanings was so fascinating for me.  Apart from the Sistene Chapel, the Raphael rooms were my favorite, especially the School of Athens.

As Vinnie was describing it, I kept taking picture after picture.  Meant to depict a bridge between philosophy and theology, it showcases many of the great philosophers including some hidden cameos of other famous Renaissance men.  My inner nerd was clearly visible when I let out a little squeal of delight after Vinnie pointed to Pythagoras reading a book in the bottom left hand corner.

My other favorite was in the Sistine Chapel of the first sin.  I didn’t get a picture of it because of silly copyright laws, but don’t fret! I snaked some video when the guards weren’t looking.  Then I was caught and suffered a severe slap on the wrist.  They really have that guilt thing down pat.

So far, this trip has been wonderful.  Europe and I get along great.  Plus, it’s a nice bonding experience with the folks and the cousin.  Though, I have learned that my mother is incapable of pronouncing anything correctly.  Here are some of my favorite Joyce-isms:

“I started crying when we went inside the Sixteenth Chapel.”

“Did you throw a penny in the Trivia Fountain?”

“What a wonderful view of St. Peter’s Basilisk!”

I cut her some slack on the last one cause of the Harry Potter reference.

OH, and have I mentioned the food?  Good grief, I don’t know how Italians stay so fit with all these wonderful carbs and sugar at their disposal.  I had Tiramisu gelato the other day.  TIRAMISU GELATO. If I didn’t see God at the Vatican, I certainly saw Him then.

The past couple of days I’ve mostly gathered video rather than photos, but I found a couple that really stood out to me.

A bit out of focus, but I thought this pic was too adorable!

We’re driving to Pompeii tomorrow.  Expect lots of gorgeous moving footage of the Italian countryside.

Are You Not Entertained?!

We visited the Colosseum today as well as many of the ruins.  The ancient Romans were definitely legit.  I took my obligatory picture with the guys in gladiator costumes.  I felt like Maximus.

Rome may be a bit dirty, but it is absolutely beautiful.  You cannot walk the streets for very long without running into some breathtaking building that puts all the architecture in America to shame.

Some things I’ve noticed about the culture:

1) It’s okay to stare.  And it’s awkward.

2) Breakfast isn’t really a thing.

3) The Moped stereotype has a solid foundation.

I find myself torn between experiencing the city through my eyeballs or through my camera lens.  I know this continent will be rife with images to shoot, but it’s also proving to be stressful every time I geek out and whip out the Rebel.  Plus, I’ve never been one to take lots of photos on vacations because I always wanted to savor the experience.  It’s just that everything I’m shooting is so absolutely gorgeous that I can’t help but take a moment to document it.

Regardless, I’ve been taking a bajillion photos and video.  My relationship with the camera is still a bit new, so I’m not sure if I’m getting the best images I can get, but so far I’m pretty satisfied.  Any tips on the best way to shoot in bright sunlight would be much appreciated.

Here are some pictures I liked:

There’s also a lot more where these came from.  Photographer friends, I need your opinions!!  Please let me know what you think.

Anyway, while it’s 5:30 PM for you guys, it’s past midnight for me.  I need to get some rest if I’m to meet the Pope tomorrow (well here’s hoping).  Ciao!

Looking back before looking ahead

Today is Europe Eve.  Excitement in the Grush household abounds.

Our matching family suitcases line the foyer as Mom and Dad frantically try to tie up all the loose ends before we depart.  Meanwhile I face a conundrum. I’m currently trying to find a proper wattage converter for my chi hair straightener. Apparently the plugs in Europe go all Electro on you and fry your appliances. Bummer! What shall I do if I can not tame my ravenous locks whilst overseas? The Europeans will surely judge me for my wavy mane. Alas.

Oh, meet Christina, my cousin:

Sup

She will be my partner in crime for the trip abroad.  She flew to Houston this morning, so we’ve been making mischief in the house.  Today we ventured into my closet to find some old shoes, but we found my old prom dresses instead. Then this happened:

We're cool

Hey, at least it still fits!

Since my parents recently moved, a bunch of my childhood toys and knick knacks have been packed up in boxes and stored in a huge room in the back of the house.  We refer to it as the “Raiders of the Lost Ark Room.”

Eat your heart out Indiana

Every time I come home, I always dig around in this room, searching for old treasures that have been lost in time.  It’s crazy how so many memories will pour into my head after just spending a few moments inside.  We spent a few hours in the room today and came across some glorious gems.

Of course we would have a box specifically for Spiderman Memorabilia.

Loren Grush : Calculator Applications Team.  I’m awesome.

My extensive stuffed lion collection.

Epic Discovery

This was by far my favorite find.  The most accurate Space Shuttle toy ever created.  You are able to place the shuttle on the movable launch pad, crank it up to the dock, send the astronaut to the shuttle in the elevator, and then deploy the external tank and solid rocket boosters after lift off.  This was my childhood.  Be jealous.

But enough of reliving the golden years.  While giggling at the nerdiness of my childhood was fun, it’s time to look forward to our glorious journey ahead.  We have so many things to do and see in Europe, and I couldn’t be more excited.  I feel like my little plastic astronaut in his NASA jet pack says it best.

“I’m ready for an adventure!”