A few days ago I got to talk to Keshet! She had to get up really early for it. I’m way Down East, and I had to get up…really not at all early (but still had to get up, since I hadn’t yet. Also, my manager called while we were on the phone to ask why I wasn’t at work, so there was a lot going on but it all worked out, don’t worry, I’m a quick dresser and/or apologizer when I have to be). It was all-around informative chat. We talked about the validity of my feelings and whether or not 75 degrees is cold (hint: it’s not, unless you’re in Costa Rica) or 8:00 is early (hint: if you’re placid enough it is, no matter where you are). There was also a part that went something like this.
“Have you seen (said Keshet) that nobody’s posted their introduction on the Yak Board?”
“Yeah! I wish they would, I want to see what everyone’s like! Do you know anything about them? Have you talked to anybody else?”
“No, not yet. It’s only 8:00!”
“Totally! I get it, though. I check it out every couple days, and I’m always like, ‘oooh, nobody wants to be the first one–and neither do I!'”
“…but I could! If you want.”
“That’d be great!”
And then I realized my computer, to which I’d lost the charger, was dead, and I was, in fact, supposed to be at work. Six (6) days (which is longer than eight (8) hours, but not as cold as seventy-five (75) degrees) have passed, and I don’t know how I can look my children in the eye until I post this Yak.
Hi! I’m Julia, and I talk less in real life, I promise! Most of the time. I also show up to work most of the time, though not always on-time, per se. It’s a weakness of character and I’m ashamed. I work at the Strawbery Banke Museum. They sell t-shirts that say
“Yes, that’s how we spell it!”
and some very tiny, very expensive baskets. More importantly, they’re a living-history museum. Portsmouth, NH, where I have lived since just prior to my birth, is a pretty old place, at least for this country, if you only count the stuff you can still see. In 1623, Captain John Smith (yeah, that John Smith, except he was old by now) stepped off a skiff onto the bank(e) of the mighty Piscatiqua (the second-most dangerous river in North America), and looked up. He saw Pound signs, which is to say, he saw some extraordinarily mast-shaped timber. Then he looked down, and saw that he was standing in a juicy little tangle of strawbery bushes (spelling wasn’t invented until the early 19th century, which sounds facetious, but it’s true). He wiped the gunk from his boots and retired. He went back to England, and eventually died. But lots of people stayed, and built a thriving maritime community, which they eventually renamed, because people were cyberbullying them over it. For some reason there aren’t a lot of strawberries around here anymore, which brings us about up to present day. This is what I look like when I go to work:
Well, that’s not working, so see above/below. The other one is what I look like when I’m trying to look extra-myself, which, as it turns out, is a little like extra-medium.
To wrap it up, I’m 20 years old, on a gap between my Sophomore and Junior years of college, the oldest and shortest of three! I don’t have to make a jab about who’s prettiest, because we have Winslow, who trumps us all pretty easy. I’ll let you see a picture of him too, cause, really, you wanna see a picture of him. Harrison and Alden are very nice young men and I love them, but…really. I study writing and studio art, and when I’m not getting long-winded on the internet I’m usually humming, doodling, driving around the coast (wicked pissah, bud), or trying to learn the banjo.
I seriously, super, very can’t wait to see what you guys post, and even more for meeting you all in a couple of weeks!
Warmest rays of cheer,