Sophomore Year

Since my last installment regarding the life and times of Michelle Stringer, I know many of you have been dying to know what happened next. Amazingly enough, I rarely ever saw Mr. Nice Guy during my sophomore year of college. He and one of the guys that he roomed with freshman year got an apartment off-campus. Since we weren't on the same track as far as which degrees we were pursuing, we didn't have any classes together. I missed him, but there were other things going on. I was spending more and more time with my girls, as well as exploring more of Boston. I know that's not the answer you were all looking for, but that's the way things ended up being. Looking back on it, my sophomore year was actually kind of boring...

Freshman Year

As I settled into my new life in Boston, I of course also had to go to classes. A music college is like a foreign land as compared to your standard college. There were general education classes that were required, but for the first two years you focus on music theory and sight-reading music, which means you should be able to figure out a tune when given a sheet of music based purely on the key it's written in and the starting pitch. Because my singing experience was with choirs, those things didn't come very easily for me. I met a girl in my sight-reading class that ended up being a really good friend. We used to do our homework for that class together. She definitely helped me to make it through that stuff.

Because my school was about 80% male, I was friends with a lot of guys. Seeing as I grew up with two brothers and a host of male cousins, I was very comfortable hanging out with guys. I understood their sense of humor and I knew that if I was sarcastic with one of them, they wouldn't take it the wrong way. Some girls have a really hard time with sarcasm. Why that is, I have no idea. Both of the girls that I became good friends with lived on the same floor of the dorm so when I went to see them, I'd have an opportunity to meet some of the guys that lived on that floor, too. One guy in particular was so nice to me. We became fast friends. The thing that sealed our friendship is the fact that we hung out together on my 19th birthday. Initially I was going to hang out with one of my girls (the one who always felt the need to point out my accent), but she totally blew me off. On my way back from her room, I met up with Mr. Nice Guy. He was on his way to Boston Harbor and asked if I'd like to come along. At this point I hadn't done much exploring, so it was nice to be able to take a walk around with someone. We walked through the Public Garden and Boston Common as we made our way to the Harbor. It was a very companionable walk. I don't remember what we chatted about but I remember really enjoying being there with him. Once we got to the Harbor, we sat on the sea wall and dangled our feet over the edge. It was a beautiful fall night and it was starting to get dark. There were boats on the water and the city was starting to light up. I think that night is probably what inspired my love of being outside in the city once night fell. Also, looking back on it, I think that night is when I fell in love with him. He was a beautiful person inside and out and I was touched by the fact that he chose to spend his time with me when he could've been doing a host of other things. At the time, I had no idea that the seed of love had been planted, but over the next couple of years it would grow.

Senior Year

Sorry to leave you hanging. Seems like I was in the 11th grade for an eternity, huh? When I left you I was contemplating college in Chicago. One of the requisite items for my application to DePaul University was an audition tape. There were two or three different types of songs I had to perform and I had to practice those songs after school with my chorus teacher. This is the man who threw the music folder and dented the poster. I was never too terribly fond of him, but my dislike of him grew when I didn't get into DePaul's music program. I feel that he didn't do enough to prep me to sing those songs. He was also working with another student on audition material, someone that I know for a fact that he liked better than me.

To say that I was devastated by being rejected for the music program was an understatement. I cried my eyes out. DePaul encouraged me to apply to another program, but I really wanted to be in their music program. I just happened to get something in the mail from Berklee College of Music in Boston the same week I got the rejection letter from DePaul. Berklee didn't require an audition until after admission, so I decided to go out on a limb and apply there. I didn't apply to any other colleges. I figured that if I didn't get in, I'd regroup and apply to other schools for the spring semester.

Well there was no need to regroup because Berklee accepted me. I had never, ever even been to Boston and only knew about it from what I had read in books. I was also a huge New Kids on the Block fan, and they're from Boston, hahaha!!! There I was, a black girl from the rural South who had only ever left the South to go to the Midwest. I had absolutely no clue what I was getting myself into, but I was lead by my curious nature and my adventurous spirit.

Steady as She Goes

Yesterday was weigh-in day, and let me tell you, was it ever a miserable one! I'm speaking weather-wise. It rained all day, and because of the time change it was basically completely dark when I left the office. Because a lot of the streets in Boston tilt, any time it rains there is standing water on the side of the street, right near the sidewalk. If you don't know any better, you think that where you are about to step is flat with only a very shallow puddle of water, but in reality you end up pluging your foot ankle-deep into cold water. Because I wore flats yesterday, the hems of my pants were pretty much dragging the ground so that by the time I got home my pants legs were soaked.

Enough about the weather. Let's talk about my weigh-in. When I stepped on the scale I found that my weight was exactly the same as it was last week. That's what the bastard scale at home told me, too, but you know how untrustworthy it has proven itself to be. I'm glad that my lack of significant exercise didn't cause me to gain. This cold that I have has been hanging on to me with a death grip, but I think I'm almost out of the woods. I'm planning to go to yoga class tomorrow morning to kick-start my exercise again and also to continue to rid myself of toxins.

September 11, 2001

Everyone has their own experiences regarding September 11, 2001. Right now I'd like to share mine. Just three days prior, on Septermber 8, I moved into a new apartment. I was psyched because this apartment was nicer than my old one and the rent was cheaper. It was also around the corner from one of my good friends from college and in my favorite area of Boston. My first three days in the apartment were spent getting unpacked and settling in. Little did I know that on Day Four the US would be changed forever.

On the morning of September 11 I took the subway to work as I usually did, but while walking to my office I had an overwhelming urge to cry. During this period of my life, my intuition was especially heightened. I got what I called the "death feeling". Whenever I had that feeling, I knew someone was going to die. Normally when I got that feeling, not too long afterward, I'd hear from my mother that a distant relative had died.

Once I got to work I set the feeling aside and got set to settle in for the day. The first person to mention a plane flying into one of the towers was my boss. Of course we all thought it was an accident. But then when the second one hit, we knew something was wrong. An eerie feeling came over the office and no one was really able to get any work done. As we all searched for information online, the towers were burning. It all seemed so surreal.

Little by little information started to trickle in. The planes left from Logan Airport. One crashed into the side of the Pentagon. One crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Something beyond our comprehension was going on. The governor thinks everyone should leave downtown Boston. Outside is the sound of helicopters and there's chaos as people are trying to decide whether or not they should take the subway. I walked home. On the way I called my mom and then I called one of my good friends. He and I discussed how scary it was. Everyone was stunned and seemed at a loss.

When I got home to my new apartment, I turned on the tv to watch coverage of the attacks. It was everywhere, on every channel. You actually couldn't get away from it. Because the windows of my apartment faced a brick wall, I got very little sunlight. All I can remember is me sitting in a dark apartment, clutching a pillow to my chest, and wondering what was next.

In the days that followed, this country pulled together in a way that I'd never seen in my lifetime. For a while it was almost like the US was one big family. Differences were momentarily set aside so that we could all mourn together and comfort each other. Unfortunately, it seems that we've lost that bond that we built after the events that took place nine years ago. Many said "We will never forget", but they have. They let the trivialities of life get in the way of the fact that it could've been any one of us on those planes. For whatever reason, we're still here. Because of that reason and many others, we need to appreciate ourselves, each other, and everything that we have. The infighting that takes place among the American people is exactly what our enemies want. Don't give them the satisfaction. Pull together again and let them know that we are resilient people. Do it so that those who died as a result of the tragedies of September 11, 2001 will truly never be forgotten. May we find peace individually, peace collectively, and peace universally.

Photo courtesy of nymag.com