the ball game.

A few days ago, my dad took me to my very first Bethlehem Iron Pigs game. The Iron pigs are a new farm team under the Philadelphia Phillies (my one and only baseball team.) They just started up last year, and by all accounts so far are absolutly awful. But... if there is one thing that doesn't matter much when you're at a baseball game, it's the baseball game.

While there my dad talked me into getting a baseball cap -- the first I've owned for at least ten years. Surprisingly, I have fallen in love with this thing, so have decided that it is my fashion accessory for the summer.


Taking a break from watching the game for some lunch. Here I am styling my new headware. Jealous? I know you are.

And since my dad got me to wear the hat, I convinced him to try on my "signature" 70s porn star sun glasses. I think he looks rather dashing, don't you?

And since I'm actually putting photos up (which I never do so enjoy it while it lasts) I'll throw this one up of my little brother Zach and I from earlier this summer. He'll hate that I put this up because he thinks he looks bad in it. But I looked bad in the one that he looked better in, and this is my blog. Sibling revenge...

solitaire in stroudsburg.

Welcome to life, version three. As a young person it seems like every six months I am thrust into a completely new experience. New opportunities yield new jobs. New jobs bring a new setting. A new setting means new people. To be frank, the past four years have been quite volatile as far as my surroundings are concerned. This is probably reflected in my blog posts – which I do realize are not much more than a string of coming of age stories. Don’t worry, it will eventually pass. But not quite yet … indulge me still.

This summer I am working as the online intern at the Pocono Record in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. It’s a growing town, an hour north of where I learned to ride a bike, spell my name and cut with scissors. Though I am close to good, old and familiar places, I am quite far from any familiar faces. And thus, I have named this blog post: solitaire in stroudsburg.

Here in Stroudsburg, I am living on top of a mountain, in a large office building, in the middle of the woods, by myself. It’s lovely – really and truly it is. But it’s also a tad TOO isolated sometimes.

When I go on walks through the woods after work, I think of all the terrible things that could happen to me. A hungry bear shreds me to pieces to feed her cubs, an escaped convict robs me of my clothing to use as a disguise, a lonely Appalachian Trail hiker locks me in his microbus and leaves me to die and I must eat the old faded leather seats to stay alive. These things sound bad, I know. But what makes them worse is that since I live alone, nobody would notice I’m gone. Sure, after I blew of work for a few days without as much as a phone call they might get concerned – but who knows, I could just be the flaky intern. My parents would grow frustrated with unanswered phone calls, but I do that on a regular basis as it is. Seriously – it would be weeks before people put the pieces together. And by then my organs might be beyond recognition … or I may have run out of car parts to eat.

*deep breath*

The truth is, I don’t really mind being alone. In recent years I’ve learned that I have somewhat of a split personality that gives and takes from introversion and extroversion – and since my life in Elon is mostly the latter, a little alone time won’t hurt, right?

To keep myself occupied, I’ve set a few goals for the summer. Just things to do in my spare time, really.

1. Learn to take better photos
2. Actually read Newsweek and The New Yorker cover to cover when I get them
3. Bring my HTML and CSS skills to a adequate level
4. Learn Flash
5. Write more

Week one starts today, and so I’m off to delve in ISO, F-stops, Shutter Speeds and Focusing.

Olivia Hubert-Allen

new backyard.

From the moment I get home from work, until the time it is either too dark or too cold, I spend my time on the back porch at Kirkridge. Above is a photo taken at dusk -- I'll try to get a nicer morning shot tomorrow.

Olivia Hubert-Allen

tearful trajectory.

I've never been the type of person to cry about happy things. My tears have always been silent, and reserved for only the most tragic of moments. Even my own mother's soft smile and warm tears during the moments when she has been most proud of me are beyond comprehension.

Until recently.

Perhaps it is a part of growing older, reaching emotional maturity or just being OK about being a sap, but the past year or so of my life has been riddled with happy cries. There was the "unexpected opportunity" cry -- complete with a sinking to the floor and gripping the carpet of my living room. There was the "maternal moment" cry, when I realized that my brother -- despite my requests -- will continue to grow up without my watchful eye. And, a classic this one, the "wedding" cry -- which is characterized by an internal melting and hopefulness.

Now all this talk about crying brings me to my experience today.

As I ascended above the clouds on a Southwest flight from Bowling Green, Kentucky to Columbus, Ohio, I was struck with a profound feeling of calm. Something about looking down at the world below makes life's mistakes, embarrassments, humiliations and shortcomings seem distant and unimportant in the context of space.

I examined my earth, freckled by the shadows of over passing clouds. I was not sad. I was not happy. I was just ... aware.

And then for some reason, my throat tightened and eyes watered. Unblinking, I felt a well of water build beneath my lower eye. I looked up -- hoping for some evaporation -- if a tear doesn't fall you're not really crying, right? I took a deep breath, sat back in my seat and watched the man next to me flip through SkyMall.

Reclining Chairs. Gardening Gizmos. Massage wands. Golf ball carriers. Monogrammed Towels.

In less than a minute, the moment had passed.

Nothing like worthless retail to destroy an emotion.

Olivia Hubert-Allen

power.

I got into journalism and politics so I could change the world. But the more and more that I am venturing into this craft, I am figuring that I should probably have gotten into business instead. Since the end of the Cold War, the world is being run more and more by money and less and less by governments. Whatever is a journalist to do?

Proper update coming soon, I promise. I'm a fair-weather blogger, I'll admit it.