Tea-drunk and Writing

Guys, I am sleepy and tea-drunk. Originally, I was going to post some thoughts on writing and they were going to be good and clever, but then I drank too much tea. Now my head is all warm and fuzzy, and all I can think about is how I wish I had been closer to certain people when I was in college. I wish I could Facebook chat them and find out how they're doing without it seeming weird as hell. Tea-drunk is not close enough to real drunk for me to feel confident in my ability to say, "Hi! What's been ups?" without feeling like a creepy stalker who shouldn't still be trying to be friends with people I only had 2 classes with.

Drinking too much tea, or maybe thinking too much, has also given me the sort of stomach ache you get when you're anticipating something. My brain receives these "I-drank-too-much-tea" signals and interprets them as "oh God oh God I'm so nervous right now!" Sometimes bodies are incredibly stupid. Mine in particular.

Here are my thoughts on writing that I drafted half an hour ago. There is a dramatic shift in tone between these two blog sections. During this second part, I'm sober:

First of all, let me start off by saying this: I don't know shit about writing. Really. I try to and the more I read and listen the more I learn; college and workshopping and everything like that, it all helps. But when I sit and put pencil to paper, everything I've learned about process and craft works together in unconscious ways that I don't pay attention to. It's a bit like driving. You don't always pay attention when you're doing it, but you make it home safe from work every day.


Sometimes something that I love comes out of it, and other times it is absolutely awful and I look at my notebook or my computer screen and sigh and tell myself that this is why I need to find a real job. But I do love writing. When I start working on something it's what I imagine being addicted to drugs is like. It's all I think about, it's what I breathe, I try to get away from everyone at work at lunch time so I can sit in a corner and script dialogue that I wont ever use because it makes me feel something.  When people come near me I snap at them and am basically really rude and awful, but it doesn't matter because I need the words to be on the page more than I need people to like me (this is not very nice, but it is true. The fact that it's true really lends itself back to the drug metaphor well, because when I'm not writing I am a very dependent person. When I'm doing it, it changes me.)

God, that was so much more coherent than this. All this writing talk started because I've been feeling really inspired lately, and I believe it's because of all the good writing I've been steeped in. Sometimes reading or listening to writing that's better than yours is discouraging. That used to be how I felt all the time. I'd write stuff and I'd be like, "Ugh, this is nowhere near as good as Shakespeare!" and then crumple it up and start over. But I'm at a place right now where good writing (Adverbs by Daniel Handler {again}, Sherlock {yes, that fucking TV show again}, Adventure Time {the comic by Ryan North and the TV show}, Travels With Myself and Another by Martha Gelhorn, everything by Frank O'Hara, and the collected works of Paul Verlaine {in both English and French}) is just pushing me. The more I listen and read, the more I want to create and do. Tonight it's all sort of jumbled up in my head and I can't really manage to get any of my own work done because I keep Googling poems by Frank O'Hara and Paul Verlaine. Seriously, everyone else: stop being so fucking amazing. You are driving me to drink. Too much tea.

XOX

(Click the pic to check out its source. Should be your go to for AT screen-cap needs.)

ALL THE FEELS!

Guys, this is going to be a post about feelings. I'm sorry. I know it's lame, but I'm working through some stuff right now, and it might help to write it all down and my notebook is in my purse and my purse is on the other side of the bed and the bed is a queen and there is a full human lying between me and the purse side of the bed! This is a post about growing up and change. If those topics don't interest you here is a picture of Chris Hemsworth without his shirt on:

  

And for the gentlemen, here is Scarlett Johansson and her boobs and an explosion(!):

You're welcome. I can't wait for The Avengers. NOW, onto my feels:

I graduated from college nearly a year ago, almost 11 months to the day, and it was great. It is great. Getting paid for working hard, having all your time to yourself, never having homework, all of it is fantastic. But after a bit, I guess about 6 months in, all of that stuff didn't seem so great anymore and I started to miss school. Not just college, but school. For 18 years of my 22.5 years, I have been spending a majority of my year, every year, in school. 80% (really about 40% considering we got half a year off every year) of my life I have been being taught things. Which is really wonderful, if you think about it. Think about how much smarter I got; it's probably why I feel so fucking smug and know-it-all-ish all the time now (or because I am a bit arrogant about my knowledge, maybe both.) But honestly it's great and it is so easy. It doesn't seem easy when you're there, but if you take the socialization part out of education, really all you're being asked to do is learn things. Like, "hey man, here's something you should probably know." and then it's taught to you. What? That's the best! And then there's the socialization part, which over time evolves from "you should share" to "you shouldn't say mean things about other people" to "just because someone says something nice to you and shares with you doesn't necessarily make them a good person, or someone you should want to have sex with" and you learn all of these things, either through experience and the experiences of the people around you. Socialization is, I think the trickier part of education, but its not so bad and its not half as bad as what comes next which is... you graduate.

You graduate and now you have to apply all the things that you spent 80% of your life (40% knowledge, 40% socialization -or wisdom, if you're playing D&D) learning to real things. Real fucking things, like paying your taxes, finding a job, buying groceries. None of this is hard. But no one is there to teach it to you anymore. The world, at this point, sort of assumes that you know how to handle being out in the world. It educated you and the rest is on you now. And there are still people you can ask for help from, and there are and should be people you still look up to. But as you grow up you realize that these people have their own lives too, and while you are asking them to help you figure out how to do your taxes, they are actually trying to figure out how to do their own taxes. Sometimes this is good and you can work together on it. Sometimes it isn't and you have to go different ways because you realize that doing your taxes is just something you have to figure out on your own. Maybe the person you went to for help doesn't look for deductions the same way you do. And then you realize that you can't talk to them about taxes; they don't understand your taxes! And then you feel alone. You aren't, but you feel it in a real meaningful way. The people who used to understand you are gone or far away now. Everything shifted around you and you saw it happening but didn't quite realize what it meant until later. You accepted the change, embraced it even, because you knew it was what was supposed to happen. Now sitting here with your taxes spread around you like so much documented chaos you realize: this is the result of change. It is horrible, and I am so lonely. I miss a place that doesn't exist anymore, and people who probably already don't remember me. There's no going back, and progress comes in waves. Finding a job, going to see the world, buying a new computer, moving forward, moving on... it takes time. It's not like moving on to the next grade, or changing your major. It's not instantaneous. You're in flux. For 6 months, I've been in flux. A place where you know change is happening, but you don't know what the world is doing, or why, or where you'll end up. Kind of like editing in photoshop. Applying a fake moustache pixel by pixel, hoping that when you zoom out after 20 minutes of color matching it looks right. If loneliness is the first result of change that you notice, then realizing that you aren't alone might be the beginning of finding stability again.

I'm curled up in bed with my boyfriend right now (eww T.M.I, amirite?!) I still feel sort of alone, but not so much as I did a few days ago. And going to the Fountains of Wayne concert with a new, but already very close, friend was what first brought me to the conclusion that I'm finding very comforting now: Change is painful, but when you can finally glimpse where all of your change has brought you, when you can finally see a new place to fit yourself into, you start to understand why you had to go through it all in the first place. I imagine what some people see when they first look at where their change has brought them is probably pretty scary, and not at all what they wanted. Maybe that means you just aren't done yet. Back into the swirling space time vortex that is being pushed and pulled by your decisions and the decisions of the people you care about. Change never really stops, but graduating from college is a time where your life is changing, compounded with lives of all the people you care about changing too. Everyone just swirls about like the TARDIS in the opening of Doctor Who, and we ping off each other and rocket all which-ways. It's uncomfortable and scary. But it just is. And really, it is okay. We'll all figure out where we fit eventually. And there are always people who will be there when you need them to be.

XOX

Concert Going! What what!

Guys, this is essentially what I'm wearing to the Fountains of Wayne concert tomorrow night. And due in large part to my current Sherlock obsession, it screams gender-swap John Watson to me. Not in a lame CBS way, but in a cool chase-after-Sherlock-but-I'm-not-his-girlfriend way.

Also, I'm going to the Fountains of Wayne concert tomorrow night in D.C. and I am EXTREMELY excited. I've had to be very careful, because I got a stress fracture in my foot when I went to Venice, so I've been wearing a walking boot ("lovingly" referred to as Das Boot, partially because it is like a boat and partially because it is like an 80's German war film) all week just so I can wear my super cool new oxford pumps to the show. They are so freaking cool. 

For any of you who are not even remotely entertained by the idea of fashion, have this excellent cover of Baby One More Time by the illustrious Fountains of Wayne:

   

See you after the show.

XOX

 

Love, Wine and Music... all you could want in a blog post

All right there my lovelies? Sorry for no return from Italy post. It was all a bit of a blur with the last minute shopping and the 4AM bus ride to the airport, although I do I have one thing that I wanted to share. On the bus to the airport there was a set of grandparents taking their two granddaughters to the airport. The girls were little, maybe 11 and 7 and the bus was crowded, so I was standing beside them in the aisle. The grandfather and the younger girl were in front of me, and the bus was fairly quiet but you could still hear whispered conversations and the clicking of people texting. As I tuned in and out of different conversations I realized that the grandfather was talking to the little girl, and as I eavesdropped further (this is how I operate) I realized that he was reciting something to her. He was reciting the words to Good Night Moon to her as she fell asleep in his arms. On a crowded bus full of people at 4 in the morning, it was so tender and sweet; it makes you miss everything about being a child, and long for everything all at once that brings you that same sort of comfort. It seems to me that love is that sort of perfect, gentle care for another person that brings you to the point of memorizing something you know will bring them comfort. It was a lovely end to an amazing trip: everything was incredible and delicious and I am so so sorry that it's over.

Still, not that things around here have been awful or anything. Yesterday I went to a wine tasting in Annapolis at   Wine Cellars of Annapolis which was fantastic. Everyone there was super knowledgeable and nice, and I would highly recommend it if you're in the area. The barrel room also has a passageway to a little cheese and food shop called Tastings Gourmet Market where they had cheese samplers to go with the wine. My recommendation: Gorgonzola Picante. Holy cow (HAHAHAH), it is the very best blue cheese I have ever had in my whole entire life. As for wine, I ended up with a 2011 1 x Spaceman Rose which is incredibly sweet and light and has a label that looks like this:

 

I defy you to find a cooler label for wine. It's not possible. The wine itself is light and sweet but not too sweet. Perfect to chill and drink when it's warm outside. I also bought a delicious bottle of Terre Gaie Moscato, which is dangerous because it tastes like sparkling grapes and is so sweet and bubbly you could down a whole bottle without thinking about it and you would be on your ass. This hasn't happened to me yet, but when it undoubtedly does you will be the very first to know. After all the people I drunkenly text. 

In other news, I am off to Ikea because they seem to have reasonably priced frames. While I had popped off to Italy, I also had my room painted (dark blue grey on two walls and light slate grey on two walls), and it looks lovely. But because it's painted, I shouldn't, you know... thumbtack a thousand posters and printouts to my walls anymore. And I'm a grownup now anyway... and what do grown-ups do? They fucking frame their posters. SO, today I am going to go buy some nice frames for my posters and prints. To be fair, I probably should have done that back when I started buying nice posters and prints... but you know... oh well. If it looks nice, I'll post pictures when I'm done (I know that's exactly what you wanted.)

Stray Observations:

• Realized recently that I have started changing my wardrobe... all changes seem to point to a desire to be a 20-something, hip, crime-solving, scarf-wearing, book-wielding woman of mystery. It is getting a little out of control. I may pretend to be a fashion blogger and make a post about it. It's my blog, I do what I want!
• When I try to download things and they aren't on Pirate Bay, my first response is *cry* and then my second response is *give up.* Neither of these responses are effective when you're in the middle of a radio series that you feel you absolutely MUST listen to the rest of. What on earth are my other options?
• Everyone should listen to the band The Head and The Heart, particularly this song, Honey Come Home: 

                                 

Their debut self-titled album is totally my jam. This live version is fantastic, but their studio work has more instruments and stuff... if instruments are your thing. *sigh* Some people. Seriously though, the ENTIRE album is great. It's a little like Mumford and Sons album Sigh No More. Every song is incredible. It's just not fair. Go buy it now.

XOX

Fashion and Churches: Venice Days 3 & 4

I was about to start writing this and I looked out the window while I was trying to figure out what to say; I looked up just in time to see the woman who lives across the street (who I've also watched doing her dishes and smoking) taking her top off.... and now she's shut the window. Lady, it is too late for that sort of precautionary measure. Not that any Italians I've ever met have particularly been bastions for decorum, bastions for fashion maybe and exciting gesticulations most definitely. Speaking of Italians, I want to talk for a minute about fashion; all of them have the most incredible sense of style. No matter how tall or short, wide or skinny, they know exactly how to dress and look fabulous all the time. It's not fair.

 What have I done the past two days besides ogle the local folk? Took a trip to Murano (where they make the glass), bought some shoes, visited the Santa Maria della Salute, the Scuola de San Rocco, and the Basilica Santa Maria Gloriosa Dei Frari. Most of the churches wont allow you to take pictures inside, which is both good and bad. I understand why they do it; churches are sacred places and besides all the tourists coming to ogle there are actually people there praying. Still, it's sort of a bummer because they're these incredible 500+ year old buildings with these amazing paintings and chandeliers and carvings and you really just want to take pictures of everything. And they wont let you. And if you're me, you sulk about it. And then go outside and take pictures of the outside. 

This is the Santa Maria della Salute. And it is huge and beautiful.

These ladies were about 8 or 9 feet long each, and are chilling out above the front door of the church. The front door is probably about 15 or 16 feet tall. These numbers seem accurate in my head now, but you probably shouldn't call me on them. I did not bring my tape measure with me to the church, my bad. I promise I will tomorrow (not really though) when we go to the Academia. 

Stray Observations:

• Foods I have eaten: Yesterday was a soup day: tortellini soup for lunch, followed by a cappuccino and a slice of lemon cake which was divine. Dinner was vegetable soup, which here comes in a chicken stock broth which was different and really good. Today, a mushroom and prosccuito panini (which was not a panini like American's think of. If you're American, picture a stromboli... that dough tube filled with yummies... that's a panini.) And my favorite gelato so far: pistachio. Holy crap it was so good. The creaminess of the gelato went fantastically with the salty taste of the pistachio. For breakfast, cheerios... Cheerios taste the same everywhere. They taste like sad bland circles.
• I did a lot of shopping in Murano. Glass is cool, glass blowers are cool and giant glass sculptures are also cool. 

                                                      

Gelato and Spritz: Venezia, Days 1 & 2

Venice is beautiful. This is something that many many people have said before and that they will continue saying until people, or Venice, no longer exist. That's because it is entirely true. There isn't an alley to walk down where there isn't something fantastic or enticing on the other side. And there's incredible art and architecture everywhere. It's unbelievable that people live here, I mean, really. We just got back from Ca Rezzionico, which is an 18th Century Palace that is now a museum; most of the rooms on the first 2 floors have their original furnishings (they don't let you take pictures inside - if they did the rest of this blog would be pictures of chandeliers from the 1740s.) But while we were there I realized that in America, we design our museums to look like 18th Century Venetian palaces. At first, when you walk around you think, "Oh, well that's just what museums look like: ornate walls, marble floors, high ceilings," and then you realize, "...this museum is a big deal because its furnished as it was in the 18th century when it was a house. Someone lived here and it looked exactly like this."  We have entirely stolen their design aesthetic and applied it to our museums.

Today we went to the Piazza San Marco, which was huge and also a huge draw for tourists. They (we) were EVERYWHERE. Tons of people speaking TONS of different languages, with maps and cameras and fanny packs. This picture is from earlier in the morning, about 10 or so, and its mostly of the Basilica de San Marco, but you can see the crowds starting to form below it. If we spoke Italian we could have listened to the Palm Sunday mass; they broadcast it live over loud speakers into the square.

Yesterday was relatively uneventful. We got into the airport, took the boat to the city (I have seen at least 15 boats to every car this entire trip), came to the apartment, ate a snack, went out for dinner and gelato, and then came back and went to sleep. Beautiful, beautiful sleep. On the plane I hadn't managed to sleep at all  and after about an hour and a half of scooching around in my seat I gave up and listened to Cabin Pressure for the next two and a half hours which was lovely but not quite as revitalizing as a nap. However, in my quest to entice myself to stay awake until 10:00 PM Venice time, I went a little food crazy. Delicious hand-made ricotta and spinach ravioli, Nutella and caramel gelato, and the drink which all the hip cool young Italians drink- Spritz.

Spritz (or sometimes spritze) is very orange and mine was rather bitter; you can have it mixed with a less bitter bitter than I chose. The drink is white wine, sparkling water, and something else, generally a bitter (I went with Campari.) These drinks are everywhere. Sitting in the Campo di Santa Margherita, orange glasses littered the tables at the cafes. Apparently, it's so popular some people call it the official drink of Venice. I will definitely be trying another.

Tomorrow we should be headed up to the Isle of Murano where murano glass is made. The rest of today will be spent exploring the area around the apartment, relaxing and drinking wine. Also, I'll be around on Skype if anyone wants to chat. You can see the canals from out my window in the apartment, and I'd be more than happy to hold my computer out the window for you. 

Ciao!

Stray Observations:

• Also, spent a good portion of the day walking along Riva degli Schiavoni, which borders Saint Mark's Canal. Bought a few watercolors of the rivers from a painter who was setting up outside a restaurant. He did a fantastic job capturing the colors of the city. Venice is incredibly bright and the light reflects off the buildings and the water to make the most stunning colors. 

Canale di San Marco

• Other food I've eaten: Spaghetti in Squid Ink sauce with calamari, stracciatella gelato, and tiramisu mousse. Also, Frosted Flakes which, in Italy, they call Frosties.
• Boats: People take boats everywhere. It is the most convenient way to get around. Their boat system is like a metro system(they're called water buses, but really, it's like a metro) However, for tourists, besides the water metro and water taxis there are also gondolas. The locals can ride the gondolas too; however, most choose not to parody their city's history by paying their kinsmen too many euros to push them around the rivers in a straw hat. Despite how cynical that last sentence was, the gondolas are decked out to be historically accurate and are cool to look at.   Today in gondola news: there was a gondola traffic jam between two bridges. 4 gondolas full of tourists were trying to pass each other and the gondoliers were yelling at each other in Italian and angrily pushing their gondolas around. It was very exciting. Also, unlike in the movies, there aren't people lounging in the gondolas with parasols or with guys with accordions singing to them... oh wait... 

Technically, he's not the one playing the accordion, so...