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Boyfriend of the Week: Charlie Day

2012-01-29T06:25:00.000-05:00

A month or so ago, I had a couple episodes of SNL sitting around that I hadn't watched yet. One of them was hosted by this guy I'd never heard of before, so I saved that one for the very last because I felt a bit "meh..." about it. After all, if I'd never heard of the guy, how funny could he be? Sounded to me like SNL just couldn't find someone cool enough to host that week so they found this semi-famous loser to host instead. I even contemplated not watching it at all--I was so unenthusiastic about seeing it.

But I did watch it.
And I am very happy I did.

This was the November 5th episode with Charlie Day as host and Maroon 5 as musical guest. Obviously, this means that despite the many, many people who have recommended I watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I have never, ever seen a single episode. Fail.

Maybe it the fact that I had incredibly low expectations, but I was stunned at how well Charlie did on SNL. I'd have to put his hosting skills on par with the likes of other hosts I've enjoyed over the past few years, such as Jimmy Fallon, Jason Segel, Paul Rudd, and Justin Timberlake. And that's saying something.
Still, I didn't feel much compelled to watch It's Always Sunny. I had too many other shows I was involved in, I didn't need one more. So, I marked myself as impressed by Charlie Day, and left it at that. No obsessing. No researching. No further interest.

Then, this past week I saw Horrible Bosses. Honestly, I had no idea Charlie Day was in it. I just love, love, loooove Jason Bateman, which you all well know. But I was pleasantly surprised to find Charlie was in it too, and he was great in it. He kind of stole the show for me. And that's when I started feeling the twinge of attraction. Suddenly, I didn't care that he was a little on the short side, or that his voice can hinge on the obnoxious. I started thinking: "Hm, he's kind of cute...like, in a real guy kind of way."

So, yesterday, after years of hearing about how I should watch it, I started getting in to It's Always Sunny.

And I was done--officially lost.
Normally, I think I would be more into the guy guy who plays Dennis, but already being a tad biased toward Charlie, I completely focused on him. I like his facial expressions, and his eyes, and that hair...and his voice has grown on me a bit.
Sadly, he is married, and they just had a baby.
*sigh* All the good ones are taken.

But let this be a lesson to all those mildly attractive guys out there: if you can be naturally and confidently funny--you can have just about any girl you want.

Paris: Part 4

2012-01-28T15:13:00.000-05:00

On my fourth day in Paris, I headed up to the Basilica of St. Denis, where a whoooole bunch of the French monarchy are buried, including Marie Antoinette herself. While it wasn't much to look at on the outside, the inside was a whole different matter:

Afterwards, I took a long metro ride down to the infamous Catacombs, ready to see some creepy stuff, and creepy stuff I did find.

For those of you who don't know about the Catacombs, let me educate you. There was once a time when burying people in the city of Paris was allowed, and then, after a while, the cemeteries became overrun. People were being throw into mass graves, that were only closed when they were full. That means open pits of dead bodies in the middle of the city. One of the most sought after cemeteries, Saint Innocents, the ground was completely filled beyond capacity. Not only did it stink up the place pretty bad, but all the lime used on the bodies and decaying organic matter was seeping into Paris' underground wells, where almost the entire city got its water from--hence, people were getting sick. Not good.
Therefore, sometime in the late 1700s, it was decided to shut down all cemeteries within city limits and transfer all the bodies and bones to Paris' system of underground mines. For a long time the bones just kind of sat around in piles, then, later put into the formations of skulls and femurs you see today and opened to the public.
When I was in Rome I went to the Capuchin Crypt where all these Capuchin monks were buried. In the Crypt they have all the bones laid out in intricate patterns. Some of the skeletons are even dressed up. In the very last room they have a plaque, which states: "What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be." Quite jarring. You've just seen all these dead bodies and then you're confronted with a quote like that. No pictures were allowed, but as soon as I got out I wrote it down because it knocked the wind out of me. So as I made my way through the Catacombs of Paris, I couldn't help but recall it. Each one of those skulls was once a person, like you and me. If that's not a slap of mortality, I don't know what is.
But it wasn't all doom and gloom. I admit, I liked it, because I'm a nerd for the morbid.

Then I decided to quit the morbid stuff, and walked on over to Saint Sulpice.

When I got back to my hostel I met one of my new roommates and after the formalities of saying hello and where are you from blah blah blah, I asked her what she was doing in Europe and this is how the conversation went...
Canadian Girl: I've been doing a study abroad program in Germany with a bunch of Kentuckians.
Me: *blinks* Haha. That's funny. When I was in Rome a few weeks ago I met a bunch of girls from Kentucky who were studying abroad in Germany.
Canadian: Really? A lot of people from my program went to Italy recently. What were their names?
Me: *lists some names*
Canadian: *agape* I know those people!
Me: Holy shit.
Canadian: Small world.
And then I made her go to the Christmas Market with me, to eat crepes and sausages and hot wine.

Paris: Part 3

2012-01-23T11:07:00.000-05:00

Sorry I'm being so slow with these Paris posts, but as I said before: I'm busy. Graduate school application crap. Writing. Work. Planning trips (my next one is to Pisa/Florence mid-February). The only thing I'm finished is editing Tristina's manuscript. Go me!

Anyway, my third day in Paris I went outside the city to Versailles. It was really effing cold that day, and the place was PACKED with tourists. It was interesting to see all of that stuff, but the tourists...well, they ruin everything. It's like: "Get out of my way! Stop milling around like idiots." Then you realize you're also a tourist, and it makes you hate the whole situation even more, because no one really enjoys being an idiot tourist--especially if you've lived in Hawaii and New York City...
However, I had to go to Versailles and risk being touristic, because I've always been fanatically interested in the French Revolution. So, I bit back my pride and went for it.
It was interesting...ish.

The front of the Palace

Hall of Mirrors. Packed.

Me. In the mirrors. Oo la la. Note, sexy leather jacket and hiking boots. I look like i just stepped off a motorcycle.

I didn't learn anything I didn't already know, BUT I kept running into this cute French guy. Every time we caught sight of each other in a new room it was all ogling and secret smiles. Then I lost him in the Napoleon room, and I figured I wouldn't see him again. But after I'd seen it all, just before I left the main palace, I decided to hit up this side exhibition--where they decorated a few rooms in very modern styles, mixed with old paintings and whatnot, BAM there he was again, and I almost had a giggle fit because it was kind of hilarious.

The cute French guy is the one on the very right hand corner.

The rest of the time I spent outside, half freezing to death, staring at the lifeless gardens. Okay, they had some life, but I bet they're a lot prettier, and about a thousand times less depressing, in the spring.

That night I decided to hit up the Eiffel Tower, because I figured I would just go all out touristy that day.

When I got off the metro, and turned the corner, this was the sight I was graced with: a glittering tower. It glitters every hour at night. So perdy.

After waiting just about an hour, I finally got to the elevators that bring you to the very tippy top of the tower, and then it took another fifteen minutes, but I got to the top, eventually--only to be graced with bitter, sharp wind. So cold and harsh.
What a view though.

The Seine. The Champs-Elysee. Louvre. Etc...etc...

Moi. At the top. BRRRRRR. Note, headphones. Always with the headphones. They are my companion when I'm alone.

After I came down, I walked a bit to a get a good snap shot of just the tower. Tragically, both my cameras hate shooting at night so the best I've got is this:

No picture can capture the actual feeling of standing in the presence of this thing. Seriously. It's aggravating.

Afterwards, I walked to the Christmas Market again, for German sausages, hot wine, and crepes--all for under 15 euros total. A perfect dinner.

Paris: Part 2

2012-01-10T15:43:00.000-05:00

My second day in Paris, I spent almost entirely at the Louvre, and why not? Really? I mean, the place is MASSIVE. Did I expect to see everything? Hell no. But I had to see everything I should see--everything I would be sorry about not seeing later.

When I first laid eyes on the famous Pyramids, I was quite overcome--much more than I expected. There wasn't a lot of people there. It was sort of quiet, besides the traffic. And I suddenly felt very excited and happy when I saw that giant glass pyramid. It definitely a "holy shit, this is really happening" moment. The day before I saw sort of soaking it all in, in a daze, but that day--it felt real. It was the same moment I had at Shelley's grave in Rome. It was great.

Then I went inside, and there were a lot of people in there and the moment was over. But I'm not complaining. I spent most of my time with the statues. For some reason, those are always my favorite, especially when they are depicting the Greek myths.

Athena

Cupid and Psyche

Hermes

The famous Venus de Milo

Apollo

Artemis

Victory

Then, of course, I had to see the Egyptian stuff, which was awesome. Mummies. Sculptures. Hieroglyphics. I was in Archaeological nerd heaven.

Look at the colors! So much more vivid than I expected.

The green people are dead. How appropriate! Haha.

Oh and you cannot visit the Louvre without seeing its most famous resident...as about two hundred other people also had to do at the same time as me.

The Mona Lisa! It was small, but not as small as I expected.

I saw some other paintings, but if I keep going like this you, well be here for days. So here's my last one:

Romeo and Juliet

Then I left the Louvre and walked through the Tuileries Gardens, which weren't so impressive because it was November and all. No flowers or leaves. Not much of garden. However, I did stop tp sit down and these little fellows sat across from me.

My dad dubbed them Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and the really brave one on the table is d'Artagnan.

My first view of the Eiffel Tower, through the fog.

Finally, I ended the day with a walk along the Champs-Elysee, where I stumbled upon a Christmas Market! The first stall I came across was a place, selling €3 Nutella crepes. It was warm, chocolaty goodness. Mm, mm, mmm. I ended up coming to this Christmas market just about every day I was in Paris, to eat crepes and German sausages (no jokes please *glares*), and drink hot wine. So freaking tasty, and cheap.

Of course, the Champs-Elysee ends with the Arc de Triomphe!

Day Two in Paris: tout fini!

Paris: Part 1

2012-01-04T09:55:00.000-05:00

When I first got to Paris I went to my hostel to check in. I was a little wary of the place because it didn't have the best reviews, but as soon as I walked in I knew it couldn't be so bad.

They told me they were switching me to a six person room, despite the fact that I booked myself in a ten person. Nice. Then I left my luggage and went out again, ready to explore.

I was staying in the Montmarte area, so I decided that the best thing to do was to head straight for the Sacre Coeur, which is a Basilica that sits high up on a hill (and you can see it from the clock at the Musee d'Orsay. It was Sunday, so I knew I was in for some problems. I got hounded for money by gypsies on the steps up to the basilica--they pretended they were deaf and mute. I was like...uhm...get out of my way, but they wouldn't leave me alone until I gave them a few euros. Bastards. And I thought NYC beggars were bad...

But it was all worth it when I actually got into the church. Since it was Sunday, there was a service going on, and the choir was singing and it was just...amazing. I don't think I've ever been in a Catholic church of that size and magnificence on a Sunday, ever. It was quite a thing to take in.

Then I made my way to Notre Dame.

I grew up with that terrible Disney movie about the Hunchback, so I've been waiting to see the real thing for a loooong time. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to articulate how it felt--how it almost always feels when I finally have places like this within my sight. It's a mixture of awe and disappointment. The disappointment part comes from the hundreds of tourists who are having the same moment as you, making it seem less than special. The awe is a given. I mean, all the history, the people who have walked through those doors and marveled...it's impossible to find the words.

Going inside was a different experience altogether. Like the Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame is a fully functioning church, so it too was holding mass. There is nothing quite like seeing these places as their meant to be seen, alive, filled with a congregation. Not to forget the fact that it's simply beautiful inside.

When I was done there, I was exhausted. So I thought I would go back to the hostel to take a nap.
I arrived at the same time as three other people who I would be rooming with: three African guys. As a woman, I am allowed to be initially frightened by this situation. I AM ALLOWED. Especially given the little I know about Africa--one of those things being the fact that HALF, 50%, one in two women in South Africa will be raped in her lifetime...so, yeah, I'm allowed.
BUT they were dressed very nicely, so I tried to tell myself it will be fine.
I talked to them a little, they seemed alright, one was a bit too forward and asked too many questions, but other than that--fine. And they left.
Then I took a nap.
When I woke up, the chatty one was in his bed, they'd had a long journey, okay.

However, he started talking to me, and he wouldn't really let me get out of the conversation...for ONE HOUR. We talked ourselves into circles. He kept talking about how I should visit Africa. Why hadn't I been to Africa? He would gladly arrange a whole trip for me, and pay for it.
Uhm...
And there I was, still sitting in bed, giggling awkwardly, and fake smile plastered on my face.
He asked me if I believed in God, was I a Christian? And I said, "I don't know about God, but I've definitely not a Christian." He promptly told me I should convert. I just blinked.
He asked if I was married, and I SHOULD have said yes, just to get him to stop, but I'm a terrible liar. Then he told me how he felt like it was God's will for us to meet, and I should come to Africa.
Uhm...
Luckily I was meeting a friend in the lobby of the hostel, so I finally had an excuse to get out of that room. I sat there for a long time, waiting. Meanwhile, the guy left. I thought about asking the guy at the front desk if I could switch rooms tomorrow, because I found out that the African guys were staying as long as I was and I knew I just couldn't deal with five more days of that.
And out of no where, the guy from the front desk walks up to where I'm sitting and asks me if I wanted to move to an all-female room.
"YES!"
So, I moved to a four person, all girl room at that very moment, and I was SO GLAD. I even told the guy at the front desk, "Thank you SO MUCH." Being in that room made my whole trip about a hundred times more awesome than it would have been. I'll explain why later.

Anyway, I went out for dinner with my friend, drank a lot of wine, and we exchanged stories about being nannies. It was a nice and interesting first day in Paris.

This Post Is Not About Paris

2011-12-16T17:45:00.000-05:00

Remember that time when I went to Paris and wrote all about it in my blog?!

Oh yeah. Wait. That never happened.

Well, I went to Paris; however, I have neglected to write anything about it. Sorry.

But I have a good excuse! Kinda...not really...

I was busy not studying for the GRE, which I was supposed to take on the sixth, but it turns out the sixth is Santa Claus No One Works Day here in Luxembourg. So I got a call the night before--no test. Why they let me get an appointment for that day? I have no idea. Then I was supposed to take it on the eighth. And I get ANOTHER call, the night before, saying that my testing location is experiencing power outages--so no test. I thought to myself, "Wow, the Universe REALLY wants me to study for this!" And then promptly didn't study at all.
Because I'm WRITING STUFF.
Actually, I'm more like researching and planning out how I will WRITE THE STUFF.

Also, I developed a strange quark where I feel the need to suddenly start yelling words that make me excited. Must be all this time I spend with kids all day--everyday. Fun fact: kids are incapable of conversing at normal noise levels, and no matter how many times you tell them "inside voice please" or remind them that you are right next to them and they don't need to shout, they still talk unbelievably loud. *eye twitch*

Anyway, yes, I am in the process of writing something, and by something I mean a novel, which will probably have a few follow up novels and a prequel here and there. I guess I'm talking about a non-linear series of some kind. I've spent hours upon hours trying to figure this thing out. Naming characters the perfect names. Coming up with backstory. Blah. Blah. Blah. There are still huge gaping plot holes I need to knit together in my head before I can move forward with some serious writing.

Besides my own writing, I am also working on editing someone else's.
Two months ago (as of tomorrow), Tristina (from Mr and Mrs Wright) posted about the book(s) she's writing and sort of asked for volunteers to read/edit for her. Lots of people commented on it, but no one else offered to volunteer. I was surprised. I love editing. My creative writing classes were my favorite partially because I got to edit stuff (but mostly because I like writing, of course). So I was like, "I will gladly do this!"
And then I heard nothing about it for a long time...like a month, but I knew she'd have to say something about it eventually, even if it was only to ask me if I was serious about my offer (which I totally was). Then one day I got a long email from her, and it was pretty much the most awesome email I've ever received. But to summarize, she was like, "Do you really want to do this? Let's be writing friends!" Except she was a bit more professional...I think.
And I was like, "HELL YES! Let's do this!"
Now we share oddly cryptic tweets over Twitter about things almost no one else understands, and I get to wake up every morning excited that there might be words to gobble up with my eyes for my brain to digest. Then I write really long emails that involve a lot of English-major-ish type vocabulary and ideas about said words. It's exciting.
Honestly, it's the most fun I've ever had doing something that some people might consider work, and I'm doing it for free! I could do this for the rest of my life and be totally content. If I could get paid to do it...well, that would be amazing.

So, that's the story of why I've been neglecting to write about Paris.

Tragically, I'll be headed to Switzerland, AGAIN, for two weeks. You know the drill. No internet there, therefore no pretty words about Paris from me until I get back. Sorry lovelies. But here's a picture to get you through the next few days:

24th Birthday

2011-12-11T10:23:00.001-05:00

Well, I know it's been a while, but the 22nd of November was my 24th birthday, and while it wasn't exceptional or anything I feel like sharing.

I woke up to find €20 sitting outside my door with a note from Frau S (the woman I work for), telling me to buy whatever I want at the bakery for a special birthday breakfast. Breakfast is my job in the morning. I usually go to the bakery across the street for bread every morning and every morning I stare longingly at my favorite pastries wishing I had slipped a couple euros in my pocket to buy one (but I never do, because I have will power!). But that morning I could go all out. So I did.
:-D
Two of the boys even went with me and picked out their favorites. They were being so adorable that morning.

When I went downstairs I was greeted with this sight at my spot at the table.

In the afternoon I had planned on rotting my brain at the movie theater to see the newest Twilight installment, but Frau S suggested we go visit the Christmas market in Trier (Germany) which had just opened the day before. Apparently, Germany is quite well known for their Christmas markets.
So I had my first German Christmas market experience that day. We ate giant gingerbread cookies and German sausages (no jokes please).

Overall, it was a pretty great day.

Then a couple days later, after getting some terrible flu that seems to only attack Americans, I made Thanksgiving for the family and some of our friends came over and I had about 12 people singing happy birthday to me, which felt kind of epic for some reason.

But let me just say, it had more of a birthday month, and it was amazing. I went to Rome AND Paris all in the month of November. Best birthday month ever? Yes. I think so. I doubt I will ever be able to top it.

Rome: Part V

2011-11-20T14:51:00.001-05:00

My last day full day in Rome I spent entirely in a place outside of the city called Ostia Antica. It was once a harbor city, and the main seaport for Ancient Rome. Now it is an abandoned ghost town of excellently preserved ruins, which, due to the silting of the Tiber River, and a drop in sea level lies 3km from the sea.
I have to say this was probably my second most favorite place I visited (first being the Protestant Cemetery): it was out in the open, there weren't any security guards pacing around, and you could touch everything. It was amazing, being able to explore unimpeded like that. I walked up ancient steps and down ancient roads and on ancient tile floors. There wasn't much left off limits, except for places where people might get hurt. I was climbing all over the place. Oh and did I mention? There wasn't a complete mob of people there. So serene. Ah. Lovely.
I just can't describe how much fun I had being in this place. When I was younger I wanted to be an archeologist, and that day I got to live out all my nerdiest little anthropological dreams. Even as a writer, I was in heaven--the inspiration I got out of that day had been endless. Not even the rain could ruin it. I found a nice little dry place and wrote for two hours. I could not have imagined a more perfect day.

Part of the "Necropolis" aka City of the Dead. No dead were allowed to be buried within the walls of Rome, which is why there are so many catacombs and necropolises as you head out of the city. On the right are two spots where ashes would have been interred.

My feet on the mosaic floor.

Temple of Ceres

The Theater

Kitty in the theater!

Another mosaic floor.

The Capitol Building.

Public toilets. For reals. Ancient public toilets.

This is where I sat for two hours, writing, while it poured outside.

In the museum. These are the strangest eyes I have ever seen on an ancient sculpture. HA!

I was very sorry to have to go, but the whistles started blowing (meaning the place was shutting down). It was getting dark and cold, and there more rain was on its way. So I had to go. If any of you ever get the chance to go to Rome, you have to set aside a day just for exploring Ostia Antica. You have to. I guarantee it will be worth it, €6.50 well spent.

Rome: Part IV

2011-11-19T12:24:00.001-05:00

I visited two of the catacombs that lie on the outskirts of Rome. Catacombs, for the uninformed, are mostly known for being underground mass burial sights. According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, catacombs "originally [referred to] the region of underground tombs between the 2nd and 3rd milestones of the Appian Way [in Rome], where the bodies of apostles Paul and Peter, among others, were said to have been laid." Which is exactly there I was. Teehee.
I had to take a bus to get out there, and it was quite obvious that I wasn’t the only tourist heading to the catacombs on that bus. I thought that maybe these people knew a little more than I did about what stop to get off at because they had guide books and maps and I was just kind of winging it. But that was a bad idea. They all got off on the wrong stop and I with them. It was immediately clear that I was not where I wanted to be. Grrr. Stupid tourist mistake.
Anyway, I knew the catacombs were somewhere along Appian Way, which I was lucky enough to find myself on. I just had to walk southeast (with the help of the compass on the iPhone my dad sent me) until I found what I was looking for.
Unfortunately, I was a lot farther away than I anticipated, and that road is not meant for pedestrians. There is no sidewalk, almost no curb, and it is lined with a wall most of the way. So if some idiot Italian with his little Fiat wasn’t paying attention I could easily be sideswiped or smashed up against that friggen wall. Awesome. But I braved it, and eventually I started seeing signs for the catacombs, which was how I found myself on this deserted road...to take this picture.

Not too long after I took this picture I came up to a small row of trees. They looked planted specifically to surround this…I didn’t know what. An underground tomb? A bomb shelter? I honestly didn’t look hard enough because there was a motorcycle parked in front of it, and the owner of said motorcycle was leaning against the little fence bordering the…whatever it was, staring at me.
I had only seen one other person and one car since I turned onto this strange road ten or fifteen minutes before. So I smiled at him and kept walking at my NYC pace. I didn't really want to stop and chat, although, not gunna lie, he was mighty attractive (and motorcycle?! ahem...). Momma didn't raise no fool.
But then he started talking to me...in Italian, until he realized I was American. Then he attempted English. Attempted.
We talked for about five minutes, I explained what I was doing in Rome, my name, age, that I was headed to the catacombs, and that was about it. His name was Marco, and he was 31. Just thought you'd wanna know. He also told me that he liked me, *giggle.* However, I really had to keep going because the catacombs were closing in an hour and a half and I didn't want to walk all the way out there for nothing.
So, on I went.
About five minutes later I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle from behind me, and I had to smile. I just KNEW it was him, and it was. It totally was.
He stopped, give me his number, and asked me if I liked sex.
I think I blinked at him a few times, like...ah...what? And then I laughed, because that's what I do when things get weird. How does one respond to a question like that?
If you're wondering, no, I did not get on his motorcycle. I had a catacomb to get to--remember.

I have no pictures from San Callisto. Out of observance of the dead, photography was not allowed. So yeah. All I have is that picture up there, and the memories of Marco and the feisty old Irish priest who led the tour.

Saint Sebastian's also didn't allow photography, but they had a church I could take pictures in. So, check it.

Saint Sebastian. He survived several arrow wounds only to be beaten to death. Fun times?

Finally, I had to go find another bus stop. I found this gem by the side of the road. YEAH! Drugs!!

No but seriously. What the frick is a string doing just lying around like that? Not cool...

The rest of the walk to the bus stop was much nicer. I believe these are the ruins of Cecilia Metella's tomb.

Rome: Part III

2011-11-14T10:39:00.001-05:00

On my third full day in Rome, I decided to go to the Vatican, hit up the museum and check out St. Peter's. I was wary of long lines (just like at the Colosseum), but it's wasn't nearly as bad as I was told it would be. I got in to both places rather quickly, considering I thought I would be waiting for hours and hours. I think I only waited an hour total.
The first thing I did when I got into the Vatican Museum was go straight for the Sistine Chapel. I was so focused on my mission that I neglected to look at the signs that said you can't take pictures in the Chapel. I had seen other people taking pictures of other things in the museum along the way, so I figured it was all up for photography.
Apparently not.
This was the only picture I had the chance to get before a security started yelling at me in Italian. I think I only got caught because my camera decided to turn the flash on by itself, as if it wanted to tattle on me. *grumbles angrily*

Not the best picture, but what can you do? Still kind of epic.

The Vatican boasts some of the most amazing and historic sculptures I have ever seen, and I used to live in New York City, where I had the MET at my whimsical disposal.

Augustus Caesar

Athena

Apollo, my favorite Greek god.

St. Peter's. Can you see the Pope balcony?

Inside St. Peter's

FLOATING JESUS!

Silly guards in silly uniforms. Teehee.

One of the fountains in St. Peter's Square...or should I say it's more like a circle? Check out all the statues on the roof.

Rome: Part II

2011-11-11T15:37:00.001-05:00

My second day in Rome I dedicated to seeing its famous archaeological monuments, and some other stuff I stumbled across along the way.

The Colosseum

What is there to say about the Colosseum? It is magnificent, and just as big as I always imagined. I went there about ten minutes before it opened and there was barely anyone there. I had been prepared for a long line, but there was none. Maybe it was because I chose to go on a Wednesday, which is one of the days the Pope speaks in Vatican City. Who knows. I went by the Colosseum again a few days later and there was a massive line, so...lucky me.
Anyway, I really enjoyed it. The anthropology geek in me was having the time of her life. I could almost hear the crowds of two thousand years ago cheering and screaming.

Palatine Hill

More ruins in the middle of the city. They had a stadium here too. It was like a nice park with paths and whatnot. It used to be the fancy part of town, where all the rich people lived back in Roman times. Supposedly it is where Romulus killed Remus and founded Rome.

Roman Forum

Originally the Roman Forum was an Etruscan burial ground. OoooOooo. But it's more famous for being a covered market place (kind of like a mall), a civic center, and a place of religious worship. You could go there for almost all your needs. It was a hub of public activity. Now it's just a bunch of poorly labeled (in Italian) rubble. Still, I know how to take a nice picture.

A beautiful piece of art I found as I was roaming around.

At Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II

The actual monument isn't even in the picture because all the ones I took were awful since the sun was sitting just behind it. It's a massive marble building. Supposedly the locals hate it. It's beautiful, but I could see why the Italians might not like it.

The ceiling of the Pantheon

The Pantheon wasn't as cool as I wanted it to be. It's been converted into a church. So it's just kind of...meh. But the ceiling was nice. There's a big hole in it!

The ceiling at the Church of Saint Ignatius of Loyola

I sort of just stumbled upon this church when I was trying to get to the metro. I walked in and was a bit amazed, which is saying something considering how many churches I've seen since I've been in Europe.

At the Church of Saint Cecilia in Trastevere

My Mom grew up Catholic and for as long as I can remember she's kept a book of saints sitting in the bathroom. Why the bathroom? Don't ask me. But I can guarantee it's sitting there right now. Anyway, I've always known that my birthday is Saint Cecilia's day. It's fascinated me a bit. So I figured I should visit. Her incorruptible body is entombed under the church. The statue in the photo is an artist rendering of how her body was found when her tomb was opened some one thousand plus years after her death.

Isola Tiberina

As I was walking back to the metro the sun began to go down and all of a sudden there were birds everywhere. I don't know why it happened, and didn't happen again while I was there. I was a bit afraid of being pooped on but it was fantastic to watch them dive and dart in their separate flocks, seeming all coordinated by one mind. A great way to end the day.

Rome: Part I

2011-11-10T10:44:00.000-05:00

I got back from Rome on Monday and I have to say that it was amazing.

I am the kind of person who has realistic expectations. I've had too many bad travel experiences not to be rational. However, I am also a writer and therefor a huge daydreamer; so, I have to admit I often tend to make up grand fantasies about my adventures before they happen. Sometimes I get disappointed, because when you've waited half your life to see something and there are about five hundred other people crammed in trying to get a glimpse of it too--well that kind of kills the mood. It drives me into this "I just want my souvenir photo and to get the hell out of here" state of mind. It's hard to feel awed and overwhelmed with all those people around, getting in your way, being obnoxious.
I really hate tourists.
However, there are times when I am simply blown away--Rome was one of those times.

The trip did not have a promising start. I woke up way too early to catch a bus, to catch another bus, to get to the airport, and I was so, so, so sick from a nasty cold one of the kids gave me. Then, after a good hour of standing in a line to get on the plane (Ryanair has free-for-all seating, like Southwest), we were informed that the flight would be delayed for FIVE HOURS. Five hours in that stupid little airport in no-where-ville Germany. I was already pissed that all I could take on was a tiny little carry on for a week's worth of clothes and such (only ONE, no purse allowed) or else pay a €40 fee to check a bag, both ways. No thank you.
When I finally arrived in Rome about six hours later (and another lovely bus ride), I got lost trying to find my hostel--in the dark--on Halloween--in a sketchy part of the city. FUN!
The trip would also be rife with me losing stuff. Two days in I had already lost a €16 metrobus pass (which I had to replace), a plastic earbud on my headphones--forcing me to spend €10 for new ones, and my €12 Colosseum ticket that would have given me free passage to Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum (so I had to buy another one). Oh, and I almost stepped on/broke my $200 glasses at the Colosseum, THEN I almost lost them forever when I left them sitting on John Keats' grave while taking pictures, but luckily I realized they were gone a half hour later and they were still there, unharmed. Jesus Christ. Usually I am not this kind of person. I don't lose things like that, and I've certainly never put my glasses in so much danger before. So all of it was a tad annoying.
Then there was the fact that I had a lovely, nagging, tuberculosis-esque cough the entire trip. I went through all the lozenges I brought with me and three packages I bought while I was there. I felt sorry for my hostel roommates, but what can you do? I drank so much water, nothing helped.

From this point of view, the Rome trip looked like a failure.

But the rest of it was astounding.
The first thing I did the morning after I got there was head straight to the Non-Catholic Cemetery (aka Cimitero Acattolico di Roma) where the British Romantic poets Keats and Shelley are buried. You all should know by now that Shelley is probably my most favorite poet ever. I find everything about him completely fascinating. One might call me obsessed. In fact, I was reading a non-fiction history about Shelley and his whole circle when I went to Rome, called Young Romantics: The Tangled Lives of English Poetry's Greatest Generation. It's all just so tragic and inspiring.
Anyway, there I was in this cemetery, and I was desperate to find Shelley. I could not find him fast enough. Then, before I found him I come across this:

Now I had seen pictures of this grave a while back, and I wrote a really great short story about it coming to life and grabbing this woman who was taking pictures of it. I had no idea it was in this cemetery. I had no idea it was even in Rome! I was a little taken aback. What were the chances?
I quickly took some pictures and set out for Shelley again, because, as I told you, I felt desperate to find him. I marched off, thinking I would be looking for a while longer in this jam packed graveyard, but not even three yards away I stumbled upon Shelley.

Percy Bysshe Shelley. Heart of Hearts. Born Aug 4 1792. Died July 8 1822. Lines from Shakespeare's The Tempest.

At first I was sort of shocked. I couldn't believe it was there. I didn't know what to do. Being the ice queen I can be sometimes, I didn't expect to get emotional about the grave of a person I had never met. But all of a sudden I was overcome by my own imagination as I thought about the man Percy was--this great visionary, full of passionate life, snuffed out by the very nature he love so much--and it made me deeply upset. I got all teary even.
Then I took some obligatory photos and tried to move on because I still needed to find Keats. However, every time I took a few steps away I felt overwhelmed by misery--like I could just sit there and sob. I also felt incredibly ridiculous for being such a silly fan-girl, but what can you do? Finally, I sucked it up and headed over to Keats. As soon as I was out of sight of Shelley's grave my composure returned. Still, I had to visit Shelley again before I left the cemetery completely, and I had the same problem trying to leave again. I am so weird.

John Keats' grave, per his dying request, did not have his name written on it. He was only 25 years old and died believing he was a failure. The line, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water" perfectly defines him: his life, his philosophy, his personality, his death.

Afterwards, I went to the Keats-Shelley Memorial House at the Spanish Steps. It's the actual house John Keats died in, and they turned it into a museum for relics of both his and Shelley's and even some of Byron's stuff. They had actual clips of hair from the poets, some letters they wrote, casts of Keats' face done when he was alive and dead, paintings of them, etc, etc. I liked the letters the best. I think seeing someone's handwriting says a lot about them, especially handwriting from back then when it was so much more important.

Shelley's is nearly illegible.

Of course, since I was at the Spanish Steps I had to check them out too. But there were so many people it made it hard to really take it all in.

Then there was the Piazza del Popolo.

And I ended the day with a trip to the Trevi Fountain. Legend has it that if you throw in a coin it will ensure your return to Rome someday--throw in two and you will find romance soon (possibly with an Italian)--throw in three coins and you will marry them. You're supposed to throw them over your shoulder as you face away from the fountain. So, I took three whole euro coins and did just that. Will it work? Who knows. Maybe the Italian guy I met a few days later was a gift from the fountain, but that's a story for another day...

Grad School Applications

2011-10-27T16:53:00.000-04:00

I know it's been a while but I've been busy organizing, planning, and working on three "projects" I'm really excited about:
1. My grad school applications.
2. Writing (a story!).
3. My trip to Rome next week.

The last time I blogged I told you all about my plans for grad school. Well, usually once I've made up my mind about something I go for it and I don't look back. I researched schools. I made a long list of places I would like to go. The list included all sorts of information, like tuition, application requirements, and fees. This long list included some insanely out of my league schools and several from all over the country. I had Colorado, Washington, Boston, New York, Washington DC, and Virginia. Then I did more research and really thought about what I wanted until I narrowed it down to three universities.
1. The College of William & Mary - Williamsburg, Virginia.
It's the second oldest university in the US. Thomas Jefferson, my favorite president, was an alumnus. W&M has a great reputation and it resides in a beautiful historic town, not too far from the beach and only a short train or bus ride away from my Dad in DC. Honestly, it's my top pick and I have no idea why.

2. George Washington University - Washington, DC.
This is one of the schools I considered when I wanted to leave Hawaii, but then I got NYC stuck in my head, and as I said before, once I've made my mind up...
Jacqueline Kennedy was an alumnus. Fancy.
DC is close to my Dad, and I do like it there--all those free museums and the monuments and the history. DC's public transportation is decent. Like NYC, there is always something to do.

3. New York University, New York City.
Go back to the big bad city? Sure, why not? I actually have friends there now. I know I thought I would never live there again, but life is funny like that. I do love NYC.

I am pretty much done all three applications. I got my recommendations in order, transcript request forms sent, essays written, resume revamped, etc, etc. I am a friggen pro at this stuff. I mean after going through application processes at least five times in my life before this (first time, three transfers, and one failed attempt), one would hope I'd be a natural.
Turns out I am. (So if anyone needs help, ahem...I'm here.)
Anyway, I've submitted my W&M application, the other two have to wait until I receive my transcripts because they prefer to have the transcripts scanned and uploaded to the application rather than mailed in. Annoying. But whatever. At least then I'll have copies of my transcripts.

When I come back from Rome I'm going to get started on studying for the GRE. I have no idea how to go about it. I tried studying for the SAT (I took after-school lessons even!) and that didn't go so well. I got a mediocre score. Since none of these schools posted what kind of scores they usually accept, I'm just going to hope that it's not THAT important in the decision process. Test scores aside, I am an amazing applicant. However, am I concerned I might not get into any of them? Yes. That would suck.

My backup plan?
Stay in Europe as long as possible.

The Newest Plan in a Long History of Plans

2011-10-21T07:38:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year again when I need to figure out what to do with my life beyond this. I have to say, I'm rather sick of this routine. Why can't my life just figure itself out already? Why does it all have to be so damn hard? Why must it always be me who has to work this junk out? Sometimes I miss the days when I had no choices, no big decisions...

My problem is this: I know what I want to do, but no one will let me do it on my terms. As in, this will not be easy and I am NOT looking forward to it.

What do I want to do?
I want to do a Postgraduate Certification/Diploma in Education in the United Kingdom. That is what I want. I have wanted to live in the UK ever since I was seventeen years old and I have failed to make that happen every step of the way. First, my guidance counselor pretty much refused to help me get into a foreign school. She said I could always study abroad. Since I had no idea how to do it without her help, I had to give in. So lame. Every single year of college I wanted to study abroad, but it never happened with all the transferring I did. Why did I never think of transferring to a UK school? I have no idea...I did have a habit of transferring last minute so maybe I missed deadlines, whatever, it didn't happen.

So now I have the chance, BUT for some ridiculous reason they have decided to make it difficult for me. They require two things that may be extremely difficult for me provide. First, you need to have GCSE English and Math scores. Now you might be wondering what in the freaking world is the GCSE? Me too. So I looked it up and the GCSE's are like some standardized test they make you do in the UK when you're about sixteen. That's right, sixteen. One six. Why in the world would a graduate program care about scores you got when you were 16?! That's stupid and ridiculous.
I'm sure my SATs would qualify as some kind of equivalent, but I would have to somehow get a hold of my SAT official scores and send it to some company in the UK that makes decisions like that, pay them over £100, and wait God knows how long for them to approve it or not. Meanwhile, deadlines will have passed. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
And that's just the first problem.
The second is that I need some kind of experience in an actual secondary school preferably in the UK. Uhm, how am I supposed to do that unless I am currently living in the UK? And do UK schools just let strangers stop by and observe classes or give a lecture or two? I doubt it.

So guess what?
I. Give. Up.
I may not be religious, but sometimes I feel like the Universe gives me signs. There are people who might think this is the Universe's way of challenging me; I should try to overcome these obstacles, so I will learn something or whatever--feel great about myself, who knows. But I call bullshit. Applying to grad school is already difficult. You need recommendations, a resume, an essay, a personal statement, transcripts, to pay application fees, take a stupid standardized test, blah, blah, blah...etc, etc. I do not need this extra crap piled on to an already tough process. I don't have time for it. I don't have the patience for it. I don't have the energy for it. Clearly the Universe is steering me in another direction.

So, I have decided to do a Masters in Education in the US. That is my new plan. I have registered for the GRE. I have asked professors for recommendations. I will spend the next few months working on the rest and studying for the GRE.
It begins now.

Zertifikat

2011-10-20T15:38:00.001-04:00

So I got quite a shock when my German certificate finally arrived...

Turns out I not only passed the A1 German, but also A2! I wasn't even going for A2. I didn't even study for A2. But hey, I'll take it. I mean, who am I to complain?

Boyfriend of the Week: Noah Shaw

2011-10-11T14:47:00.001-04:00

Couple days ago I started reading The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin. I wasn't supposed to start reading it until I was done my German test, but I was so sick of studying and I was getting so nervous about it's approaching date that I just needed something else to do. I started it in the afternoon the day before the test and I finished it a few hours after the test the next day.
I was so hooked, and it was because of Noah Shaw. One of the most dreamy characters I have ever read.
I love falling for a written character so much more than a pretty face on the computer screen. I mean, writers can say what they want about what a character looks like, but in the end the reader is going think what they want. Therefor, in the end, it's so much more than the surface attributes when you fall in love with a character from a book--it really is personality. How is that character written? What kind of words does the author use to describe this person? How do they smile? What kind of things do they say? How do they make the other characters feel?

Hodkin often describes Noah's smile as wicked. She paints him as the bad boy, a heartbreaker, man-whore, and you're afraid that Mara (the main character, obviously) shouldn't get involved with him. But like Mara, who is also cautious, you find yourself intensely falling for him, despite your fears. Noah is sarcastic, witty, confident (aka cocky), intelligent, sexy, charming, brave, and surprisingly thoughtful.
I had a boyfriend kind of like him once. He was wild and I was sure I was going to end up with a broken heart, but I fell for him anyway because he was just so much damn fun. Luckily I have never regretted it. When we were together all he had to do was look at me the right way and I was gone.

Noah Shaw is that boyfriend I had, except better, because one--he's not a complete commitment phobe, and two--he's British. Win!

But honestly, Noah wasn't the only reason I couldn't put this book down. The writing was just amazing. Michelle Hodkin writes how I think in my head. Her style is so modern and totally unique to anything else I've read in a long time. I suggest you find this book and read it, if not for Noah, but for the great and thrilling tale of a girl who thinks she's going crazy, who might really be going crazy, or is she?

RIP Steve Jobs

2011-10-06T15:24:00.002-04:00

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
- Steve Jobs

When I woke up this morning I woke up in a world where Steve Jobs no longer existed. I don't know much about Steve, but I do know that he made my life so much easier. Life before I got my first Mac was terrible. I went for months without a working computer as my family's PC was bombarded with virus problem after virus problem. Adware and spyware clogged the system, making what use I could get out of the thing extremely slow. That damn computer reduced me to frustrated tears on more than one occasion. It's hard drive had to be wiped at least three times and I had to restore the system probably twenty times at least. I became an unwilling expert at fixing that damn thing. It was the bane of my high school existence.

Then I graduated, and that meant I needed a new, fancy, laptop for college. That was 2006, right in the middle of Apple's Mac vs PC commercials. Those commercials actually convinced me to choose the expensive Mac over a cheaper PC, and when I explained all the benefits of having a Mac to my Mom, she agreed to pay for it. All my pals got PCs and most of them intensely regretted it later. I was the only one I knew who went the Mac route. Now a lot of people I know have Macs and some of them have a Mac (or some kind of Apple product) because I wouldn't shut up about how much I loved mine.
I have only had two major problems with my Macs over the five years since my conversion and both were my own fault (one hard drive fried because I refused to let the computer sleep and one computer I lost to a water spill). But both problems were fixed quickly because of this amazing place called the Apple Store where you can take your computer to be fixed.
I will never go back to a PC.

My life may not have been easy over the past few years, but at least my computer was rarely one of my worries, and I owe it all to Steve Jobs.
Thank you sir.

from my Mac's computer screen to yours

Pancreatic cancer steals another good one.

Dammit.

"The world has lost a visionary. And there may be no greater tribute to Steve's success than the fact that much of the world learned of his passing on a device he invented." - President Obama

Der Deutschtest

2011-10-06T14:43:00.000-04:00

So, remember how I had take this German test? Remember how it totally ruined my blogging life, stole all my free time, and had be stressing out for weeks? You all might be wondering, "Why so much drama about this friggen test? You don't usually ignore your blog for crap like that."
Touche.
What I didn't tell you all was that if I didn't pass this test I could kiss Europe goodbye. My work permit hinged on this one point. I had prove that I know enough German to pass the A1 level German test, or else my visa could not be extended and I would have to leave.
Yeah.
So failing would not only affect me, it would affect the family I work for. The thought of letting them down was so much worse than letting myself down. How could I possibly fact them if I failed?

Well, today was the day my friends.
My heart was pounding all morning. Every time I thought about my impending test I had to fight the urge to vomit. So much pressure to succeed. So much anxiety.

But all of the studying and stress were for nothing. It had to be one of the easiest language tests I've done in my entire life. I did the spoken part first and after that the lady giving me the test basically told me I was good to go, "And where should I send the certificate?" Therefore, pending any horrible mistakes in written part of the test, which I doubt there will be cause the writing/reading stuff is what I'm best at--even in German, I should receive my Sprachdiplom (as the Germans would say) in a few days.

I really hope I haven't jinxed myself by basically declaring victory before the scores have been posted, but I'm too excited not to. I finally have my Freizeit back! For two months I've felt like I was breaking the law every time I did something non-German related with my free time. No more!!

Well...until I decide I want the A2 level certification so I can stay in Germany indefinitely...

Boyfriend of the Week: James McAvoy

2011-10-03T14:47:00.000-04:00

Okay, I know it's been like...two months since the last Boyfriend, but as you all should be aware, I am probably the most busy I've ever been in my entire life. I hope I am never, ever this busy again. To think I thought I would less busy once school was over.
HA!
Anyway, to the point.
I recently saw X-Men: First Class and immediately fell in love with James McAvoy...all over again. Every time I see that guy in a movie, even if I only watch about five minutes of him, my heart just can't take it. Hell, just about any time I'm reminded that he exists I feel myself melting into a squealing fifteen-year-old girl. There is just something about him. Gives me the tingles.

Maybe it's his gorgeous eyes.
Maybe it's the accent, being Scottish and all.
Maybe it's just the fact that he's so damn good looking...

Whatever the case, there just seems to be something really great about him. From what I've read, he's a totally great guy. You know, nice, charming, funny. But he also seems to be pretty darn smart too. He thinks that the Brits are dumbing their films down for American audiences, which, in his opinion, is a shame. Not just because this makes films suffer the indignity of being dumbed down, but it's also assuming American's are too stupid to appreciate wit or deeper meanings, which isn't true. Not exactly his words, but that's what I got out of it. James also can't stand 3D movies and thinks the whole trend is an easy way for theaters to get more money out of their customers. I couldn't agree more. Plus, 3D movies give me headaches.

Movies I suggest you see with James McAvoy? I loved him in White Teeth; Penelope; Atonement; Wanted; Becoming Jane; Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; and of course, the newest X-Men.

I would also like to take this moment to forget the fact that he's married to his soul mate and whatever. This is my dream boyfriend...for now, and I can't worry about his marital status whilst I'm dreaming. *girly sigh* I've really been considering going to the UK to get my teaching certification, and then who knows? Hopefully, I find the man of my dreams...

A Gift from the Danes

2011-09-30T15:21:00.000-04:00

Do you remember the Danish folks I met a couple months ago in Switzerland? Well, the other day we (the fam and I) got a big package from them, and it was filled with presents for everyone--including me. I wasn't expecting anything much. I mean, when I heard there was a present for me I couldn't exactly conjure up any ideas about what it could possibly be, but I couldn't imagine it would be something very expensive. I guess maybe I thought it might be a book or some fancy Danish soap or whatever--you know, something potentially useful but a generic gift for someone you don't know very well--like a candle.

Instead I got a SUPER nice winter jacket.

No one (outside of family, and my exboyfriend's parents) has ever given me such a nice gift before, especially not anyone who I've only met once. I was completely shocked, and then I was ridiculously happy...and then I was pretty depressed that we've been experiencing some kind of freakish indian summer (nearly 80F every day), leaving me no opportunity to wear it. It's kind of amazing what a great gift can do: me, wishing for snow. What the heck? That is crazy.

Europe has turned me into a person who owns many jackets. For a while there I really only had about one or two coats, and just a whole lot of sweat shirts. Seriously, I've had the same winter coat since my Freshman year of high school. We're talking nine years people. Granted, I lived in Hawaii for some of that time and had no need for a winter jacket. But still...
Then I bought a lighter cheap jacket at Target a couple years ago. It should have been a classy coat for walking around NYC in style, but I was shopping with my Dad the day I bought the cheap coat, and was in a more rustic, Vermont mood.
Still, I only had one good winter coat, the other was for spring and fall, and no classy coat for going out in NYC. But hey, at least I had two jackets.

Now I own five jackets.
TWO winter coats, one sturdy fall/spring weather jacket, and two raincoats (one is heavier than the other). Oh and did I mention that both my winter jackets have removable fleece liners, with gives me TWO MORE jackets. Haha, yeah. I have so many freaking jackets I don't even know what to do with them all.

I still need a fancy one though...

My Godson!

2011-09-29T12:26:00.000-04:00

On September 23, 9:01 PST, my godson was born!!

Unfortunately, there were some immediate problems with his lungs, and the poor little guy had to have breathing tubes and was crammed into an incubator. I can only imagine the stress and anxiety this caused my dear friend, Juno. To have all those postnatal hormones raging through you and something like that happens, something is wrong with your baby...God...can't feel good.

Turns out the problem was some kind of congenital pneumonia, which I have never heard of before. I mean, who knew babies could get pneumonia while still in the womb? Not me. It sounds crazy, but apparently it is possible. He also tested positive for staph in his lungs. It hadn't become infectious though, so, that wasn't a contributing factor to his illness. My guess is that he probably got infected with the staph bacteria from the breathing tubes in his windpipe, but I'm not a doctor or any kind of medical professional, so my guess is probably a bunch of crap.

The good news is that he is doing much better. According to Juno's Facebook updates, all the breathing tubes have been removed and they have moved him out of the incubator.

There is one funny thing about the day he was born. I had decided to write some long overdue postcards to my goddaughters (Juno's other kids) and Juno. In the one to Belle I wrote, "As I write this, your brother has not yet arrived..." Or something like that. I had no idea that literally, as I wrote that, Juno was probably sitting at home at that very moment feeling the beginnings of labor pains. Life is strange.

Oh, and I would tell you the name of my beloved new godson, but like his sisters (who I have given fake names for blogging) I believe he deserves some semblance of privacy. With that said, I give you Flynn, who is obviously not named so, but I think it's cool. I picked it after Flynn Rider from Tangled. Both his sisters have Disney themed names (Aurora and Belle), so he should have one too.

Europe: Essen und Trinken

2011-09-22T07:56:00.001-04:00

Every time I move I pick up new eating habits, new foods to pine over when I'm gone. Europe is no exception. So here's a list of all the things I've been loving, and will surely be missing someday.

1. Mineral Water.
I hate water. People say it doesn't have a taste, but I think it does, and when it's warm or the coldest the tap can give, it's even worse. So the only way I would ever drink water was when it was really, really cold. Even if it was from the fridge cold, I would add ice to make it even colder. Then, the only reasons I ever drank water was if I was very, very thirsty, drunk, hungover, feeling too poor to waste money on something else, sick, or there was absolutely nothing else to drink anyway.
Then I came to Europe, and the first day here I was served warm water. Of course, being polite, I wasn't about to shove it away screaming about my extreme dislike of water, especially warm water. Of course, this being Europe and all, it was sparkling water, and the bubbles somehow made it about 10 times more palatable to me. Now I probably drink a good liter of the stuff every day. Warm. Because fridges are ridiculously small here, so you can't waste space in the fridge by chilling your water.
I still would prefer it if it were cold, but I think that once I'm living on my own again, I will be more likely to drink water...if it has bubbles in it.

2. Homemade Jam
I don't know if this is just a thing about all the Europeans I happen to have met, but all of them are totally about making their own jam and jelly. The homemade stuff is so much better than any store bought stuff I've ever had. So far, my favorites have been apricot and blackberry.

3. Fresh Bread
Almost every (week)day I go to the bakery across the street to buy freshly made bread for breakfast. It is so, so, so good. Soft and tasty. MmMm.

4. Quark
Pronounced kwahg...I think. The German kind is the consistency and color of sour cream, but with more of a sweet, yogurt type flavor. I like it on my fresh bed, topped with jam. I've even had raspberry Quark, which, in my opinion, was way better than any yogurt I've ever had. Unfortunately, they don't really produce this in the states. So I guess I'll have to go back to my onion bagels and cream cheese for breakfast since I doubt I'll have the energy for making my own jam, I won't be able to get any quark, and forget fresh bread...America doesn't really have quaint little bakeries.

5. Beer
Okay, we all know I like beer. Europe didn't do it to me. However, I don't know if it's just the fact that I've gotten really used to the taste of beer, or that beer in Europe just tastes better. Seriously. I haven't had a bad tasting beer since I've been here. Even the cheap stuff is recommendable.

6. Huit Pastry
For the uninformed, huit is eight in French. So, obviously this pastry is in the shape of an eight, and the holes have a custard/pudding, tasty, something or other in them. It is so good. Simple. But good.

Half of a Huit. Note IKEA plate...another European thing I'll need in the US

Helicopters and Big Piles of Leaves

2011-09-19T07:30:00.000-04:00

Today I had a moment in the woods with one of the kids when he and I were looking for helicopters. I don't mean real helicopters, but maple tree seeds, which when you throw up in the air spin around like a helicopter propeller.
Anyway, as I was doing this, I suddenly remembered doing the exact same thing with my cousins at my in the driveway at my grandparents house when we were all so much younger. Then I had a horrible thought: I will never have a moment like that ever again--being kids with my cousins and sister, playing with helicopters. It made me so sad that if I had been alone I would have cried. In fact, I could cry about it right now. It's such a painful thought. Sure, at that moment I was having a completely similar moment with my five-year-old charge, but it wasn't the same. I'm not a kid anymore. I'll never be a kid again. And it's just not as fun doing it as an adult as it is when you're young. Something about that really bothers me.
The thing is, I had never thought of stuff like this before I started doing this job. But now it happens all the time. I guess I've never spent this much time with little kids. Something about seeing them doing things triggers these sad thoughts.
I had a similar moment the other day when I was raking up the garden with the kids, and I remembered raking leaves with Blake (my sister) at our Grandmother's house and how we would hide and jump in the big piles. Then, just like the helicopters, it hit me: I will never have moments like that with my sister ever again. It hits you right in the gut.

I really despise growing older.

The "No Internet At The Chalet, So I Might As Well Read...A Lot" Review

2011-09-13T14:58:00.000-04:00

We got back from Switzerland last night, and I'm pretty sure I need a vacation from the vacation. Whenever we go to Switzerland I don't really get a day off, which usually isn't a big problem, except this time we were there sooo much longer, so after sixteen plus days, man oh man. I'm wiped. And it doesn't help that most of my free time should be spent with the German stuff (because I have a test on the 28th...). All that said, I somehow managed to finish six books while I was away. Don't ask me how I did it. I wasn't staying up late into the night or skipping out on the German stuff. I just read too fast. Seriously, it's obnoxious how fast I can read a good book, and all the books I bought for my Kindle before I left were amazingly good. Heck, I even bought two more while I was there and they were good as well... Here's the list for those of you who might be interested:

- The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein by Peter Ackroyd. As a lover of the British Romantics, especially Shelley and Byron, I LOVED this book. Everyone who was in my Romantic Lit and/or Gothic classes last year need to check this book out ASAP. Shelley and Byron and Mary Shelley (the writer of the original) are actual characters in the book. I couldn't get enough of it.

- Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. I first read this book when I was 13 or 14. I even did a book report on it, which I think my English teacher found a tad disturbing. But after a couple days of playing mountaineers with the kids (where we pretended to be climbing Mt. Everest), I decided that I needed to read it again. Ten years is a long time. I had forgotten so much about it. Unlike his other reputable book Into the Wild, Krakauer was actually there, climbing Everest, during the 1996 disaster. The book isn't for everyone, but it sure is moving and disturbing. If you've never heard of the 1996 Everest disaster, I suggest you look it up.

- Something Borrowed and Something Blue by Emily Giffin. I hadn't seen the movie of Something Borrowed (but one of my friends did and she was SUPER annoyed by the whole thing), and Amazon kept putting it on my suggested reading list, so I figured why not? I enjoyed it so much that I had to read the follow up sequel to find out what happened next. I've never personally slept with any of my friends' significant others, but there was something about the character of Rachel and her whole situation with her best friend, Darcy, that I related to. But the second book was just as good. Yes, both books were very predictable, but sometimes it's nice to read trashy stuff.
Last night I watched the movie. It made me fall in love with John Krasinski all over again and I didn't mind the changes they made from the book. It wasn't the best movie I'd ever seen, and the ending was a total flop, but c'est la vie. I've seen much worse.

- Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. Also a movie I haven't seen. It wasn't the most interesting of the bunch I read. I really didn't enjoy the flip flopping from the present-day and back, because it was the tired old to young routine. Also, I don't like to be reminded that I'll get old and look back like that someday when I'm losing my marbles. Still, it was a fairly fascinating story about a 23-year-old who runs away with a circus after a personal tragedy.

- The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. My friend Gwen recommended it to me a while back and I finally decided to read it. Despite being of the young-adult genre, it was well written and captivating. Honestly I had no idea what the story was about until I started reading. It's about a 16-year-old named Katniss Everdeen, who lives in some crazy post-apocalyptic future world called Panem, which is situated where the US once was. Panem is made up of 12 districts, each of which is required to sacrifice two teenagers every year for the Capitol's "Hunger Games" which serve as a punishment for the districts attempting to rise up against the Capitol 74 years previously. The only way to win the Hunger Games is to be the last "tribute" alive. That means these kids are killing each other. *Gulp* Of course, Katniss becomes one of the "tributes" and we follow her through the whole ordeal. I was absolutely riveted.
I'm in the process of reading the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy, and I'm sure I'll buy the third one as well.

I guess the way I approach reading is exactly like I do everything else in life. If I become interested in something I have to consume as much of it as I can, as fast as possible.

Hiking

2011-08-31T14:26:00.000-04:00

[Written Aug 25, 2011]

I don't think I've been hiking more in my entire life than I have with this family in the short two and a half months I've been with them. If you had asked me before now if I was the outdoorsy type I would have said no. Hiking. Man oh man. Most of my memories involving hiking were not really great ones. One hiking trip in Hawaii ended with amazing photos and a breathtaking view, but I can tell you it wasn't easy getting up that friggen mountain and somewhere along the way I got so fed up I started crying and complaining like a five-year-old...I was 20.

I happen to be sitting on a cliff. For real.

I have a similar memory of hiking up Jay Peak with my dad when I was maybe seven. The point is that while getting to the top of a mountain is really great and all, the hiking part has never been really good for me. I don't like being sweaty and cold at the same time (which can happen on mountains)--well, in fact I just don't like getting that sweaty period, and I suck at staying hydrated.

But now I feel a little different...

Okay, I'm not so interested in hiking as an everyday event. Also, don't really like steep inclines and I don't think anything will ever change that. Oh and having to drag a couple of three-year-olds up a mountain in the rain, not so much fun (although a bit hilarious when your dehydrated and tired). But I do love walking (probably a byproduct of living in NYC for two years) and I love the pictures I've taken while hiking.

So I think that maybe when I head back to the States (or wherever I go when this job is over), I may take it upon myself to go on some hiking trips. Besides, I can't let these wonderful new hiking boots go to waste!

Life at the Moment

2011-08-24T16:30:00.000-04:00

Here is the deal with my life at the moment.

It is insane.

Ever since we got back from the Netherlands it's been nothing but craziness due to some things I really don't feel at liberty to discuss in the public atmosphere of the internet. I know I seem to say things like this a lot lately, but this time it's sort of serious, and I would rather not find myself in a heap of trouble because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Been there, done that, no thank you. Although, if you follow me on Twitter you probably know what I'm talking about. But then you would also know that the crisis has been averted. All is taken care of. Whew!
Also, I don't like talking about the kids too much because they aren't my kids and I haven't asked permission to post pictures or talk about them. Maybe I should ask permission, but I just feel like that would be an awkward conversation, especially since the fam isn't really down with internet trends and whatnot.

Anyway, tomorrow the fam and I will be headed to Munich for a day to look at houses, then we'll be on our way to Switzerland (AGAIN!!!) for two weeks (of nooooo internet). With the kids on vacation from school I don't have a whole lot of free time, and most of the free time I do have is either spent learning German for my A1 level test at the end of September (OH MY GOD! SHOOT ME!), or trying to catch up on emails, Facebook, Twitter, and maybe watching an episode of one of my shows or reading a book. You know, me time.

Still...
No time for blogging or reading blogs or writing emails or calling my mom or sending postcards or keeping up with the news (unless it blows up on Twitter)... So, sorry to all my blog friends, real friends, and family. I'm trryyying, but it's just so difficult at the moment. But you all should know that I am doing juuust fine.

The Netherlands

2011-08-23T08:44:00.000-04:00

I only spent a few days at the North Sea.

One of those days it was terribly cold and windy. We collected shells, got sand in our eyes, and saw some cool wind surfers. Then I bought a rain jacket and two hours later it was down pouring. Lucky, lucky, me.

The second time I headed to the beach it was very warm. I put on sun screen, swam a little, dug holes in the sand with the kids, and had a strawberry sunday. The day was great. Oh, except for the fact that I got sunburned, really bad. Ha. A little side note here about Germans and digging holes. Before I came to Europe, I had learned from a little comic strip that Germans are not sandcastle folks. Apparently, many Germans vacation on the beaches of the Netherlands and dig massive holes in the sand. I thought it was some silly joke...

But it's completely true...
All the kids had HUGE shovels, not the little wimpy ones we had as kids, but proper shovels! And all the kids wanted to do was dig holes. There were holes everywhere. Even really massive ones.
I had to laugh.

Anyway, back to my adventures. It was pretty nasty weather the whole time I was at Edmond aan Zee. Went biking with the kids. Well, actually they biked and I jogged alongside them to make sure nothing terrible happened. Of course it started raining and my jeans were so soaked that I had a hard time keeping them up as I ran. Another time we went to the beach it was cold and rainy again. We saw some policemen on jet skis. We also some them accidently beach those jet skis on a sandbar. Hilarious.

I spent one day in Amsterdam, and before I say anything about my personal experience I just want you all to know what I had heard or knew about this city before stepping foot in it.
- For a few of my friends Amsterdam is probably their most favorite place in the entire world. Their recommendations and outpourings of enthusiasm were impossible to ignore. Some may think that this would give me a much too positive outlook for my visit, however...
- The Canadian boys I met in Bruges, Mike and Daniel, had just come from Amsterdam when I met them and they basically told me they never wanted to go back after what they experienced there. Oh yes, they were happy to be able to say they had gone, but, as far as they were concerned, they could find no reason to go back. They called it "a guy's fantasy land," and said that besides the museums and maybe shopping, they couldn't see what there was for the fairer sex to appreciate in Amsterdam. Also, they warned me about bicyclists, who can be quite aggressive in the Netherlands.
- Finally, of course I knew all the things Amsterdam is infamous for and the sights to catch. Anne Frank's House, the canals, the architecture, beer, pot, brothels, etc, etc.
So with both highly positive and fairly negative views of the city clanging around in my brain, and all the tid-bits of trivia I could find, I set out for my day in Amsterdam.

I didn't like it.
Maybe it was because it was hot. Maybe it was because of the massively long lines at all the museums. Maybe it was because, despite being very aware of the bicyclist issue, I still almost got run down a couple times while I was on the pedestrian sidewalks.
My guess is that it was all three.
Yes, it was beautiful. The canals are lovely. The architecture of the houses--completely unique and wonderful. But all in all...if asked, I would say that I didn't have much fun but I'm glad I can say I've been.

As for the Dutch people, I love them (as long as their not on a bike, perhaps). They were always helpful and cheery. Even the Dutch I've met and known abroad have been perfectly swell folks. Sadly, I don't think Holland my sort of place.

London: Six Years Later

2011-08-16T17:14:00.000-04:00

London.
I have to admit I had hyped it up in my head for the past six years (the last time I went was in high school). I wanted to go to university there. I wanted to study abroad there. I have wanted to move there a thousand times. It was my favorite city of all time, located in my favorite country, inhabited by my favorite people. However, this trip to my favorite city wasn't so awe inspiring as it was the first time. I've experienced a lot of the world since I was 17. Life has changed A LOT. I have seen so much more. I won't say I was disillusioned by this trip, it was just a reality check. No place is perfect. My first trip to London was quite simply perfection. The chaperones let us run wild. Juno and I met three British boys who let us run around the city with them. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. It was thrilling.
This time I was alone. No guides, and no friendly folks in my hostel. It wasn't quite the thrill it was the first go around, but I still found reasons to be taken away.

First off, London has probably the BEST parks I've ever seen in a city. Every park has a bit of it that reminds me of Central Park: Mowed, lots of people, etc. But then they have this wildness to them that I never experienced in Central Park, and I simply adored it. High grass. Creepy looking trees. Hyde Park was my favorite. When I looked out over the Serpentine I couldn't help but think, "Holy crap, I can't believe this is where Harriet Shelley drowned herself. Now look at all the people congregated in and around it and they have no idea..." Morbid, yes, but I was the kid who liked playing in the cemetery near my house. Morbid is kind of my thing. My morbidity is the reason why London is one of my favorite places! Along with New Orleans.

Look at that swampy eeriness. My kind of place.

Anyway, back to Hyde Park. I loved how everything was moss covered. The grass wasn't cut in a lot of places. I loved the look of it. (Side note: I totally saw some guy fall off his skateboard there. I am pretty sure he fractured his skull, or at least got a concussion, when his smacked the pavement. No helmet. Ouch!)

Besides it's parks, I've got to say that I love the British as a people. They are a lot nicer than stereotypes would have us believe, and unbelievably funny (in my opinion). My mother doesn't get English humor, but I can't get enough of it. I mean, hello, Monty Python. Enough said. If you don't know what Monty Python is, I can't help you. Get your hands on Monty Python and the Holy Grail, ASAP and educate yourself, by god.
Then there's the whole part of how old London is. The history there is immense. As a former Anthropology major and avid history buff, London is a dream. That's all I can say really. I mean, within the past six months history has happened there (ahem, Royal Wedding anyone?).

So Let's see, where did I go?
- Big Ben and Parliament
- Parliament Square

- Shakespeare's Globe Theater
- The National Gallery
- Westminster Abbey (because I HAD to see the Poet's Corner with Shelley, Byron, and Keats...oh and did I tell you that a certain wedding took place there recently?)

- Piccadilly Circus
- Trafalgar Square
- The London Eye

- Hyde Park
- Green Park
- St. Paul Cathedral

- Buckingham Palace
- The Tower of London (even though I've already been. I had to go again. Their tour guides are THE BEST! His name was Ken).

- The Tube
- Some London style double decker buses
- Kensington Palace (in Hyde Park)

Tragically, living in New York has ruined London a little for me. In fact, I think living in New York has ruined a lot of cities for me. I find myself constantly comparing. From the layout to street signs to public transportation. I get frustrated when they don't measure up. When I lived in NYC I had no idea how amazing it was in comparison to the cities of the world, but now I'm really beginning to miss it. I won't list my complaints about London, because I believe half of them were due to the fact that London is in the midst of preparing for next year's Olympics and July/August is the height of tourist season. So, we'll just leave it at this one: I wish the Tube had air conditioning. Otherwise, London still has a place in my heart.

Switzerland Again

2011-08-10T15:34:00.000-04:00

I'm baaaack.

Okay. I think I should start off with a quick recap of Switzerland, since I'm feeling rather worn out still, even though we got back from the Netherlands last Friday.

There were some sunny days.

There were some rainy days.

And just about all those days, we went hiking.
Seriously, if I haven't lost weight from that trip alone, I don't know what to do. However, I am happy to say that I am in the market for a belt because my jeans just don't stay up so well anymore.

But here's a great story for you all: There was one particular day when everything on our hike started out great. There was sun, but it wasn't too hot. Everyone was happy. We got coffee at a nice little restaurant way out in the middle of nowhere. We had a wonderful lunch packed. There were flowers everywhere. Good times.
Until we got lost.

Then it started pouring.
And the trip that should have taken three hours tops, ended up taking six...or maybe seven...whatever, it was a looong time. The kids were screaming. We were all soaked and tired and miserable. And I started laughing hysterically somewhere along the way because that's just how I deal with totally out of control situations. I mean, kids screaming--it's pouring rain--you slip and fall on your butt--hilarious. Right?

Then, another day, there was a helicopter floating about above us. It went by a few times. We thought it might be a search and rescue team or something. Maybe someone was lost or hurt on the mountain and the helicopter was trying to find them. Who knows? We thought we had it figured, until it came by one more time, this time with a cow hanging from a rope, by one leg, off it.
Whaaaaaat?
I'm not gunna lie, I laughed. That seems to be the theme here. But yes, I laughed. It was funny. A cow, just hanging off a helicopter like that. I mean, what the heck? That's weird. An hour later, as we made our way back to the car, we found out the fate of the dangling cow.
Dead.
Yep, there it was, right on the side of the path, dead. Why they decided to lay it there--I have no idea. The kids dealt with the dead cow surprisingly well. I thought they might be upset, but they were really okay with it. They knew it was dead, not sleeping or merely hurt, but really dead, and that didn't bother them. Hm.

Anyway, I got to meet some Danish people (from Denmark, just FYI), and man, are they a chill sort of folk. Real easy going. They offered to house me, should I find myself roaming around Denmark during my travels, and I think I may take them up on it.

Three Week Hiatus

2011-07-15T09:38:00.000-04:00

Dear Blog,

I will be gone for quite some time. Switzerland for a week, then England for another week, and finally the Netherlands for a third week. I think the only place I'll have internet is in London, but I'm not going to bring my computer there, so the likelihood of a post is slim to none.

Three weeks my friends. Three weeks without me. I'll probably still manage to get some tweets in here and there, so you can keep up with me over on Twitter.

I'm having a difficult time deciding if I should take my computer to Switzerland. Sure, there is no internet; however, I will definitely be without it in England and the Netherlands, and the thought of not having my Chuck fix for three whole weeks is kind of horrifying. All I keep thinking is, "What if I want to write?" Oh duh, that's what paper and pens are for. But then I never transfer that stuff to the computer. Dilemmas. Then I'm also like, "You could read instead." Oh of course! But honestly, Jane Austen isn't really doing it for me right now...ONLY CHUCK IS. Man oh man. What am I going to doooo?

Honestly, I find my indecisiveness so obnoxious. I wish my brain could make quick and impulsive decisions more often.

Anyway, this also means I won't be reading any blogs. So, sorry about that too.

But who knows! I am quite addicted to my internet and I usually find ways of finding it. Maybe there will be a post sooner than you think. Maybe I will find a way to read all your blogs and leave wonderful comments. It's entirely possible.

Either way, see you all in three weeks, for sure!

Cassandra

Boyfriend of the Week: Zachary Levi

2011-07-07T14:48:00.001-04:00

Right before that awful case of food poisoning I had, I'm talking about half an hour before, I just finished watching Tangled for the first time, and I have watched it about thirty times since. Nothing against The Princess and the Frog, but there is just something about Tangled I love infinitely more. I think it's the modern witty and sarcastic humor...you know that's sort of my thing.
Anyway, the voice of the leading man in Tangled is Zachary Levi, and I suddenly felt compelled to get to know him a little better. Flash forward to now--I am watching Chuck every free moment I have. The fam keeps trying to get me to go out and do stuff, but all I really want to do is chill out with some Chuck episodes. They don't watch a lot of TV so I don't think they understand the position I'm in: I have to watch them all! ASAP. I am addicted!

Oh, and I'm also in love with Zachary Levi.
Of course.
In many ways he looks like some of the guys I've actually been with in real life. I mean, I can faun over those totally gorgeous men like Matt Bomer and Henry Cavill, but let's be honest, there is zero chance I would ever land a guy that breathtaking (also, one of them is probably gay sooo...). No, Zachary Levi is exactly the kind of guy I find myself tripping over here in reality.

Messy hair, tall, unassumingly good-looking...just take a look at about half of my previous BOTW and you'll see the trend.
Now I'm assuming the personality traits here, but since Zac is an actor, I would say he has to have some confidence and charm. I'm also going to go out on a limb and assume that he is funny, because Chuck is a fairly comical show, especially Chuck himself, and I'm pretty sure you can't play funny unless you are funny. Confidence and humor go a long, long way in my book. It makes me weak in knees, and I fall for it every time. Just assuming Zac's got those qualities has my heart in a flutter.

I also got a thing for the sound of his voice. It's nothing special, probably related to the fact that he was the voice of Flynn Rider, but whatever, I like it. Oh, and knowing he can actually sing! Well, that's just a bonus.

Even in cartoon form he's pretty darn handsome ;-)

So I'll be heading back to my Chuck marathon to ogle at the [current] man of my dreams to my heart's content.

Belgium

2011-07-05T15:26:00.003-04:00

This post is dedicated to Mike and his brother Daniel (who looks kinda like Justin Bieber, haha), from Vancouver, Canada, who I met in Bruges, Belgium. Because there is no way I will ever find them on Facebook, and that makes me a little sad. Mike shot this four minute long video in one of the clubs we went to. You don't have to watch it. It is purely for me and Mike and Dan, if they should ever stumble upon this.

Honestly, traveling alone sucks, big time. When you travel alone you move from site to site rather quickly without anyone to talk to about each place making it difficult to really appreciate much of what you're seeing. Then there's the whole problem of finding places to eat, arguing with yourself (should I go for the cheap or the experience of the food?), and the whole eating alone thing. Not fun. No one to take silly pictures with. No one to go to bars with. No one to share any of your experience with. It just sucks.
That being said, let me tell you a little about my weekend in Belgium.
I saw a lot of churches. I drank a lot of beer. I had a waffle and some fries and some chocolate, not all at the same time, but it seemed essential to eat those things considering I was in Belgium and all.

For me, traveling alone, Brussels and Antwerp were not that fun. I mean, they were interesting, but once you see one big old church you've sort of seen them all. For me, those big old churches are way more interesting from the outside. From now on, unless it's freaking Notre Dame or Westminster Abbey, I'll be content to take a few snap shots of the exterior and be done with it. I'm all chruched out.

St. Michael and St. Gudula Cathedral, Brussels

Cathedral of Our Lady, Antwerp

Bruges was awesome though. I loved how small it was (I could easily walk anywhere) and how much there was to see. Also, the hostel I stayed at (Snuffel Backpacker) was above a bar with a super cheap, cheap, cheap happy hour. It was just my kind of bar too, laid back. I met a few people right away: the two Canadian guys and a Brazilian girl. We had a good time at the bar, and then the guys and I went out to some clubs even though I wasn't dressed for it. Good times.

Swan in one of the canals in Bruges

Here are some things I learned on my trip:
- Everyone speaks English, even crazy homeless people.
- I love Fanta.
- What the heck is up with paying to use the bathroom?! And .60 euro to get ketchup with my fries?! Not cool.
- Not having to tip or worry about tax (both are built into the price) is AWESOME. Much more awesome than I expected it to be. But I always feel a little guilty when I leave the table without tipping, as if I've done something horrible.
- Apparently, all restaurants work on the "seat yourself" motto.
- Mascara is EXPENSIVE. I walked into a regular old pharmacy and all the mascara was over 12 euros. What the crap?
- In Bruges, none of the clubs had cover charges. Yeah!
- Beer in Belgium? Almost always amazing. I don't think I tried a beer I didn't like. Also, cheap.
- I love how easy it is to hop on a train and end up somewhere completely new. Sure you can do that in America, but it's not easy or cheap.
- Carrying a backpack around for three days really sucks. My back still hurts. I can't imagine doing it for months. However, it was pretty awesome to have all that I need with me at all times. Forget to put on deodorant? It's okay, it's right in my backpack.
- Restaurants never give you enough to drink. Clearly, this is where I become an American. I need to very large cup, especially when I'm paying 2 euros for it. Although, I got two Fantas at this one place and they only charged me for one. So nice.

There is one part of this trip that I cannot talk about. I wish I could because it is just about one of the best stories I have about Europe so far. In fact, it's definitely on the top ten list of crazy things that I've done, somewhere near skydiving and other secret things I can't tell you all about. I suggest that someday, (when we meet in person) we play a rousing game of "never have I ever..." over drinks. However, to make up for being unable to divulge it right here and now, I will leave you with the beautiful picture of some stained glass, from a church...of course.

Probably Food Poisoning

2011-06-30T12:07:00.001-04:00

Last Sunday was supposed to be a great day. Very warm. No rain. And knowing that, I thought it would be a good idea to head on into the city (of Luxembourg) to check it out on my own. Walk around. Take pictures. Maybe hit up some shops. But about an hour after dinner on Saturday I started feeling really bad, like overwhelming nausea bad, and my stomach started making this very loud noise. I've never heard it that loud before. I knew for sure that something terrible was about to happen.
So, of course, I started tweeting about it.
- I'm feeling incredibly nauseous. I predict that sometime in the next couple hours I will be throwing up.
- It's so weird. I haven't vomited from actually being sick in YEARS. Ever since college it's been drinking related puking only.
- Maybe it's food poisoning :-/
- My abdomen is making scary loud noises. This cannot be good.
- If it's going to happen, I wish it would just happen already. I can't stand feeling like this.

Then Melissa asks me: "Do you have any crackers? Ginger ale? Burnt toast!? Anything for nausea?"
- Burnt toast?! Ew! No. Haha. I don't have anything. Honestly I'm afraid to put anything in my stomach right now.

And then, around 10:30pm (that's 4:30pm EST), I started throwing up.
- I just got done throwing up all of my dinner. Mmm. Salmon.
- Totally called it. So. Much. Vomiting. Bleerrrg.
- As of this moment, I feel really awesome. But I can feel the badness starting to come back. Pleeeaaase stay away.

It did not.
I must have gotten up at least eight times that night. And let me tell you, it's not like you get up and puke, which would have been nice. No, it was more like I woke up feeling terrible again, my stomach aching from it's ferocious contractions. I trudged to the bathroom, and sat on the floor, rocking back and forth, staring into the toilet waiting for it to happen for a good five minutes.
Just so you know, toilets in Europe smell exactly the same as toilets in America. TMI? I don't care. These are the things you think about at 2AM when you're puking your guts out.

The next morning I couldn't even keep water or tea down, even though I was incredibly thirsty, but by the afternoon things were shaping up. The dehydration gave me a headache though, and I had a fever. I still don't know if it was a flu thing or food poisoning. Either way, I don't think I can eat salmon again for a long, long time. Just the thought of it makes me a little queezy. Once you eat something, you should never have to taste it again. Blerg.

I haven't actually been that sick in a very long time, I would say at least six years, if not more, aside from the side effects from drinking too much. I'm pretty sure I prefer to be drunk when vomiting, but that's just my opinion.

Learning About Kids

2011-06-24T05:18:00.002-04:00

Things I have noticed about young children that I had never really noticed before becoming a nanny to four children under six years old.

- What is with the irrationality? They cannot be reasoned with. You ask them to stop doing something, you give them perfectly good reasons for stopping, and yet they keep at it until you are forced to take action which will result in the child being severely upset.
- How about the screaming and/or crying at the drop of a hat?
- Holy crap they are violent. They will hit, kick, jab, chuck toys, etc over every little thing they deem as injustice against them.
- They seem to be partially deaf or something.
- Television turns them into instant zombies.
- Where the hell do all the boogers come from?! And how do they tolerate snot practically dripping out of their noses without doing anything about it?! I have no idea.
- When children throw heavy tantrums (ie: ear piercing screaming and crying so hard they are barely breathing) you will not believe the amount of saliva that will suddenly start pouring from their open, shrieking mouths. Oh my god. It is amazing. And they don't care that it's happening, or where the drool is pooling.
- A three year old can throw an aggressive tantrum for a lot longer than one would think. Honestly, I was concerned that the child might pass out, because I had no idea how breathing was happening between the yelling, shrieking, drooling, runny nose, and sobbing. Personally, I would be exhausted after about two minutes, and boy would I regret it tomorrow. Headache, sore throat...not worth it.
- Attention span of a small dog. Truly.
- Sometimes they will be angry at you for no apparent reason.
- They either don't give a crap about the rules and proper way to play games, or they are so into it that it upsets them if you deviate at all. There is no in between.
- Poop is HILARIOUS. I think I knew this, but somewhere along the way I forgot.
- They will cough and sneeze on you without covering their mouths. They have no concept of germs.

I have to remind myself that children's brains function completely different from ours. Seriously. I took a Psychology course about it, and I even went to an elementary school with my class to see it in action. It is totally baffling. They are on a completely different level of being. Very young children don't even have an idea of empathy because they don't really understand that other people have feelings like them! I like how Jason Bateman puts in the trailer for his new movie coming out soon, called The Change-Up: "It's like living with little mini drug addicts. You know, they're laughing one minute, and then they're crying the next. And then they are trying to kill themselves in your bathroom for no good reason."

But you love them.
They're adorable, and they have their sweet moments. And sometimes you can feel the love coming back to you and that's just amazing. Some days are really hard, but you just have to take a deep breath and remind yourself that tomorrow is a new day and a clean slate.

Boyfriend of the Week: Seth Meyers

2011-06-18T14:26:00.000-04:00

I realize I haven't done of these in a long time and I can't tell you how sad that's made me. I just haven't had the time, in months. UHG! But since I've had several (sexy) dreams about him (wink, wink), and I really do adore everything he does, I feel compelled to do this. So, without further ado, here's my boyfriend of the week (month? maybe...), Seth Meyers.

Seth does not scream drop dead hunk at first glance, lots of comedians don't. But I think we've all learned by now that I have a soft spot for the funny guys. A good sense of humor seems to make a guy about two times more attractive than he really is, at least to me. I know that's not a big number of times hotter, but if I said ten then that would pretty much mean I found anyone who was funny very, very, ridiculously attractive, and that's just ludicrous. I do have some standards.
Anyway, then there's the fact that Seth has been able to make something of himself using his humorous talent. With that in mind, he might as well be Brad Pitt in my eyes. Let's face it, being super attractive makes life easy, so having the courage and initiative to really make something of your abilities in the entertainment industry, when you aren't Brad Pitt gorgeous, is amazing. I hope I'll have the guts necessary to put myself out there one day. Not on TV, but, you know...publish stuff.

Here are some things about Seth, just in case you have no idea who I'm talking about:
- Seth is the head writer of SNL, a position formally held by the fabulous Tina Fey.
- He was a guest speaker at the White House Press Correspondents Dinner, which I think is a pretty big deal. Not many people get to speak at that thing, so, yeah, pretty awesome.

- He supported and gave money to the Obama campaign. (Duh.)
- He hails from New Hampshire, which I, as a Vermonter, have fond feelings for...especially when it comes to shopping (Hello! No sales tax!).
- And for some reason I really, really like him. I honestly can't figure it out. I was watching Weekend Update on the season finale of SNL about a month ago (the one with Justin Timberlake) and I suddenly thought, "Man, I want to marry Seth Meyers." I'd never really thought about him that way before, but I've been confident about this random thought ever since.

I wish I had seen him when I was living in NYC, but it's nearly impossible to get SNL tickets unless you want to stand in line at 30 Rock at 3AM. No thank you. I am not that fanatical about anything. I need my sleep. Maybe when I visit NYC again, as a tourist like person, rather than busy with school and whatnot, then I will take the time to get tickets for Jimmy Fallon, take the NBC tour, and attempt to see SNL. All the things I simply never had the time or energy for. Yeah.

But for right now I guess I'll have to keep dreaming all these lovely dreams about my fake boyfriend.

In Europe!

2011-06-15T15:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, so, I've been in Europe just over a week now!
Let me just say, every day feels like eternity. There is something about children that makes time slow down, or maybe it's not the children at all and just the fact that I'm not spending my days hunched over a computer for hours on end. Who knows. It's probably the computer thing.
Somehow, despite being almost endlessly busy, I have managed to finish two books and start on a third. Seriously you guys, the speed at which I read is sickening. I honestly don't know how I do it, and sometimes I find this speed reading talent to be quite annoying. It would be nice not to barrel through good stories in two days or less for once. You know, sort of have time to mull it over, appreciate it, before it's done.
Oh well.

Now for what you all want to know.
Yes, Europe is amazing and gorgeous, as this picture can attest:

I took that in Switzerland.
We spent the whole day hiking...in the Alps. No big deal.
Well, actually, it was a big deal. I got sunburned even though I put sunscreen on. I am so freaking white.

As we were driving from Luxembourg, where I am staying, to the chalet in Switzerland (a six hour drive, not including all the bathroom breaks children need), I took notes. Having driven across the United States last summer, there is a lot I know about long road trips, and Europe is oddly familiar in this sense. They have mini-mart gas stations where you can fill up on gas, food, drink, while also emptying your bladder. Nice. They also have diners, McDonald's, and rest stops with gross bathrooms. Minus some strange, hole-in-the-floor, toilets in France and some breath taking scenery, there really isn't that much different about American road trips versus European ones. Good to know that we Americans aren't totally out there.

This is all I really have the time or energy for. I'll post more later.

Feeding the Troll

2011-06-06T16:52:00.002-04:00

To the anonymous person who wrote this comment:

Quick question: why are you coming to Europe at all if it's such a big problem for you?
We have different electrical sockets, different internet, different cell service. So? America is not the only place in the world. Why do you all drive on the other side of the road? And manual cars- it's automatic driving, only less lazy. Like driving an actual vehicle and not a go-kart.
Welcome to Europe, please don't stay too long.

Clearly, you have never read my blog and know nothing about me, because if you did, you would know that that post was about ME and my anxieties, not about how America is better than Europe. It was about the things that I'll personally have to learn to get used to/deal with while I'm there and lamenting the things I won't have because America is stingy with it's copyright. I think I have the right to feel anxiety about dealing with a new place. Wouldn't you?
Also, if you've actually traveled America like I have, you would know that some parts of it are like living in a different country, and I have successfully adapted to those differences before. Is it always easy giving things up, like my favorite cheese or maple syrup? No. But I've learned to appreciate new things that my home doesn't have, like fresh pineapple and beaches in Hawaii (but oh how I couldn't stand the tourists!); or the convenience of the subway system and the vast number of museums in NYC (but everything was so expensive!); or the atmosphere and history of Boston (but isn't it so annoying that the T shuts down after midnight?); or the friendliness and sunshine of LA (but oh the traffic! Horrific!); of the amazing nightlife and cuisine of New Orleans (but the humidity will melt you!); etc, etc, etc.

There are a lot of things I'm actually looking forward to Europe, which if you had read the entire post, or glanced over my blog before, you would understand. England is one of my most favorite places on the entire planet, and I would gladly give up all my American electronics, automatic cars, and television for the chance to live there permanently. In fact, as I write this I am sitting next to a very pleasant British man.

So next time how about you get to know a person and their intentions before you impulsively lash out. I'm really a very worldly and open-minded person. I think we could be friends.

[From now on Anonymous comments are disabled. Own up!]

Pet Peeves: Travel Edition

2011-06-06T08:28:00.000-04:00

I'm not even in Europe yet and there are already things I'm pretty annoyed about having to give up/deal with. Here is a low down:

- Different electrical outlets. Yes, I bought a converter thingamabob and luckily, both my Kindle and iPod can be charged from my computer. I'm not even bothering bringing my hair straightener. I guess that means I only have to deal with my camera's battery charger and my computer. Still, it's annoying. Why can't the world have a universal system? Why can't it all be the same?! I don't understand it one bit. It's like every country decided, "Hey! Let's have a completely different plug shape from everyone else, just to be obnoxious!" Psh.

- No Hulu or Netflixs, and who knows what other sites I'll find I can't use over there. I know I've been whining about this forever but the whole concept that I can't access and use certain internet sites because I'm in a different country is completely strange to me. I mean it makes sense, I guess, but it's stupid. I've always sort of assumed that the internet was the same all over the world--that, unless blocked out by the government or something, everyone could access and use all the sites I can here in the USA. It's the internationally minded generation I grew up in to make such naive assumptions I suppose. But despite understanding the reasoning, I still think it's ridiculous.

- No phone. Okay, I'll have access to a phone, but I mean a cell phone. It'll be a little while before I can get my hands on one, and that's just scary. Walking around without an instant connection to people, and Facebook, and Twitter. WEIRD! I don't actually check Facebook/Twitter on my phone, but I like sending updates that way when fun stuff like traveling is happening. Not looking forward to giving that up.

- Stick-shift cars. I'm sorry, but I grew up in a world where having to learn how to shift and clutch and whatnot was not a necessity. Automatic cars are amazing! Why would anyone WANT to have a stick-shift?! I just don't get it. One of my exboyfriends tried to teach me, and I was okay until I got stuck at a red light once and started crying and freaking out because I couldn't get the car to move when the light turned green. So the ex and I had to switch spots in the middle of the road. So embarrassing! Horrifically enough, it turns out Europeans are all about the stick-shift. WHY?!?!?!?! I can't think of one thing about standard cars that makes them better than automatics. In fact, they are down right terrifying. They make driving unnecessarily stressful! Uphills, stop signs, red lights, traffic...SO SCARY! I am not looking forward to driving one.

- Language barrier. Sure, supposedly everyone speaks English, but who really wants to be THAT person? You know what I'm talking about. The tourist who doesn't know anything about the language, and doesn't even try to speak it? So arrogant. But then who wants to be the tourist that butchers the language when they do try? It's a lose-lose situation. I hate it.

When I get to Europe, I'm sure I'll have many, many things I'll love about it, and I'll give you a great big list all about it.

Neon Trees and the Debbie Downers

2011-06-01T23:34:00.000-04:00

I spent yesterday with two of my very best friends, Gwen and Lux. We went to Burlington (Vermont) for shopping and a Neon Trees concert. The shopping was supposed to be so I could get some much needed essentials for Europe, like a new pair of sneakers, a bathing suit, and some new clothes. I ended up with a sweater. Just a sweater. That it.
What a bust.
But we were really in Burlington for Neon Trees.

Over the course of my life I've had several different kinds of concert experiences: stadium, club, and festival. They're are all different in their own ways, but the big constant between them all is dancing. People move when they hear music they love. So, considering all my past experiences, when I go to a show I prepare myself for all forms of "dancing" I've come across--from head banging to swaying to jumping. I wear sneakers so my feet don't get stomped on, I wear clothes I don't mind getting all sweaty and gross in, and I try not to take a lot of stuff inside with me (purse wise). Festivals and one particularly harsh club show have really schooled me in these things. I know all about crowd surfing and mosh pits. I know that I should expect to be bumped into...a lot, and that I shouldn't get angry about it, because it's simply the physics of being in a crowd.
But this particular concert was populated by a rather large group of teenagers I put at about 14 years old. They took up a prime spot, front/center. Now, normally teenagers are obnoxious. I know. I was one not that long ago. They brood. They angst. They obsess. They have raging hormones. They seem to lack empathy. And when they are in a group they are the loudest, ridiculous, most arrogant, and inconsiderate people on the planet. I'm not saying that they were void of these qualities, but I know that when I was a teenager and they played my jams at school dances, my friends and I went nuts! We sang LOUD and danced as if no one was watching. We didn't care.
But it was clear from the very first warm up band that these kids had none of that life in them, and it was rather horrific to watch. I immediately dubbed them "a bunch of debbie downers."
First off, they didn't dance or sing in any form of the words except when verbally prompted to by the people on stage, and the only time they got excited was when the lead singer [of whatever band was on stage at the time] reached out into out the crowd because, "OH MY GOD HE (as in someone famous) TOUCHED ME!"

At first I gave them benefit of the doubt. No one really enjoys warm up bands. You don't know any of their songs, and you really just want the band you came for to come out. Also, they hadn't been to as many shows as I have. Also, I understood that it was very possible they didn't understand what exactly happens at concerts, especially if you're right near the front.
You will be crushed a bit and people will bump into you.
I happened to be one of the people crushing and bumping into them, not through any fault of my own. I was also being crushed and bumped, but from the reaction I got, this one girl did not get it.

It began shortly after the Neon Trees finally came on.
The crowd had moved in. The music had started. And I was dancing, in a very limited space. So yeah, I was bumping into the people around me a little. It happens. But the one debbie downer girl I stood next to was not dancing or singing at all. So it was awkward. There I was, jumping around and she was just standing there like a friggen telephone pole with a scowl on her face like she'd been dragged there against her will.
After a couple songs, she turns to be and screams, "DO YOU MIND?!"
I was mildly stunned.
She really knew NOTHING about concerts. If she knew anything than she would have known that what I was doing, given the extreme proximity of the stage, was expected. You're not supposed to get offended when people bump into you--if you do, you're an uppity fool.
Suddenly I felt like I was in some twisted version of Footloose, where the teenagers take issue with dancing and music. Talk about twilight zone.
I ignored her. I was taller and older. I thought: "Screw this idiot midget. I'm dancing!"

Then she started shoving me, again proving that she knows NOTHING about concert-going etiquette. Shoving can quickly escalate into moshing, which is basically people shoving and punching each other. Not wanting a mosh pit to break out, I ignored her. I figured there had to be a point when she would realize I wasn't the only one dancing and bumping into people, and get over it.
But she didn't.
And finally I cracked. I was so enraged. I bent my knees and shoved her back as hard as I could with my shoulder and hip (I have a pretty powerful hip check). She went crashing into her friends.

Of course this really pissed her off and she came back with a vengeance, actually shoving at me with her hands, instead of the shoulder bump she was doing before.
I had think about my plan of action for a moment.
I wanted to rip her hair out, but I knew that would be a bad idea. Really bad. Terrible.

So I grabbed Gwen and demanded that she switch spots with me.

Stupid debbie downer girl glared at me the rest of the concert, but I was happily away from her, dancing and jumping and singing my heart out. It was a great time.

Still.
I've never seen a group of teenagers so apathetic and angsty at a concert, or anywhere for that matter. It was ridiculous. I'm honestly disturbed by their complete lack of enthusiasm. Buzzkills, the lot of them. God, please don't like my children be so void of all happiness.

How Will I Read in Europe?

2011-05-29T19:55:00.000-04:00

My Grandmother and I got into a conversation this morning about books, and she, knowing I am an avid reader, asked if I was bringing any to Europe. To which I replied, "I don't know."
It's not that I don't want to bring any books, it's just that they'll take up room I need for other things, not to mention the fact that I have been trapped in the world of intense required reading for the past few years so I have no idea what's good. Whatever books I did decide to bring would have to be awesome, because they would have to last me a good long while. Maybe a couple read throughs. After all, where am I going to find books in English over in Europe? It's very likely I won't find any until I wonder over to England.

Suddenly I was very scared.

It's bad enough that I can't access Hulu and Netflix overseas. Really bad, like, I have no idea what I'm going to do without my shows and movies. I'm very upset about it.
But no books too?!
I hadn't even thought of it.
What in the world am I supposed to do with my free time?!
Some one you might say: travel? Well sure. Of course. That's a given. But what about the couple hours every night that I'm not nannying children? When I just want to chill out? I suppose that would be a good time to get German lessons from the Parents, but I can only do that for an hour or so before my brain needs a time out.
What then?!

Anyway, back to conversation with my Gram.
She brought up all the concerns about finding English language books. What will I do?
Suddenly I remembered, the other day, my best friend Lux purchased a Kindle. She's also going overseas for a little while and explained to me that after some research she found it was the only e-reader that works outside of the US. That meant she could still get books in English, no big deal!
I told this to Gram, and we decided I should get one.
And so I ordered a Kindle. It will be here before I leave next Monday.
The more I think about it, the more excited I am. It's perfect. It's small and lightweight so I won't have to worry about it taking up space, and I can use it in Europe. Perfect!

Now, what I need from you guys is a list of good books for me to upload to my Kindle when it gets here so I'll have plenty to read on my travels. Please and Thank You.

Pet Peeves: Seat Hogs

2011-05-26T23:10:00.001-04:00

I can't stand it when men sit like this on the subway...

Leaving the poor folks stuck sitting next to him crammed up against other people or squashed into the bars on the end of the bench, and sometimes they simply take up half the bench so no one can even sit down! As my best friend, Lux, would say: "Your balls are not that big. Move over!"

That about covers it.

10 Reasons Why My Mom is One of the Best

2011-05-25T13:20:00.000-04:00

I wanted to write this for mother's day, but I couldn't find the time. I figured, since her birthday is coming up and we've had a rough time of it the past week or so, I just wanted to let her know I love her. With the help of my best friend, we thought of ten reasons why my mom is the best:

My sister, Mom, and I at my graduation.

1. She's smarter than she gives herself credit for.
2. She's crafty. Knitting, knitting, knitting.
3. Everyone loves her.
4. She's strong. Raising two little girls by yourself ain't all peaches n' cream.
5. She instilled a good sense of feminism in my sister and I.
6. Without her and my grandmother, there is no way I could have paid for college.
7. She always makes my friends feel welcome.
8. She's genuine.
9. She's super nice.
10. Her laugh is loud and honest.

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.

2011-05-23T21:34:00.000-04:00

I hate to get all serious here, but I want to talk about alcoholism and alcohol abuse. This is a post I have tried to write several times in the past because it is an issue that has affected me pretty much my whole life, particularly in the past ten years or so.

As far as I'm aware my parents aren't alcoholics, and they certainly don't abuse it either. However, there are family members who have had problems with alcohol. Some saw the damage they were causing and sobered up, while others are still struggling. Because of these family members, alcoholism has been a topic of conversation in my family ever since I can remember, even way back before I understood what it meant.

Anyway, recent events have made it impossible for me to ignore the struggles of one particular person any longer, and it is for them I am writing this in the hopes that someday they will read it and recognize themselves in what I'm about to say. So, here it goes...

I think there are a lot of misconceptions about alcoholism and alcohol abuse. For example: did you know that if you are a man and you drink more than four drinks in one day or more than 14 in a week, then that is considered heavy drinking and you are at risk of alcoholism, or you may already be one (NIAAA)? For women it's more than three drinks in a day or more than seven a week.

Seriously. Many people think you have to drink everyday, practically all day, to be an alcoholic, but that is simply not true. Also, one beer or one glass of wine qualifies as a drink. Just because you've replaced drinking a lot of liquor with beer or wine does not mean you don't have a problem. Alcohol is alcohol.

Now ask yourself if you (or someone you know) have experienced any of these problems in the past year:

had times when you ended up drinking more, or longer, than you intended?
more than once wanted to cut down or stop drinking, or tried to, but couldn't?
more than once gotten into situations while or after drinking that increased your chances of getting hurt (such as driving, swimming, using machinery, walking in a dangerous area, or having unsafe sex)?
had to drink much more than you once did to get the effect you want? Or found that your usual number of drinks had much less effect than before?
continued to drink even though it was making you feel depressed or anxious or adding to another health problem? Or after having had a memory blackout?
spent a lot of time drinking? Or being sick or getting over other aftereffects?
continued to drink even though it was causing trouble with your family or friends?
found that drinking—or being sick from drinking—often interfered with taking care of your home or family? Or caused job troubles? Or school problems?
given up or cut back on activities that were important or interesting to you, or gave you pleasure, in order to drink?
more than once gotten arrested, been held at a police station, or had other legal problems because of your drinking?
found that when the effects of alcohol were wearing off, you had withdrawal symptoms, such as trouble sleeping, shakiness, restlessness, nausea, sweating, a racing heart, or a seizure? Or sensed things that were not there?

If you responded yes to even ONE of these then you have a reason for concern. Combine this with how often and how much you or that person drinks and if those numbers are are high, then you can bet that there is an alcohol problem.

Alcoholism can be broken down into two categories: alcohol dependence and alcohol abuse. Abuse can be defined by heavy drinking despite recurrent social, interpersonal, employment, psychological, physical, or legal problems drinking has caused. Frequent abuse behavior can quickly lead to dependence.

Dependence is alcohol abuse with the added problem of physical addiction. When people think about alcoholism this is the kind of person that comes to mind. They are the stereotype. They drink excessively and can't seem to function properly without it. When not drinking they have withdrawal symptoms.

People with an alcohol problem usually know, somewhere deep inside, that they have an issue, so when the subject of their drinking is breached they get extremely defensive, and they make endless excuses to justify their drinking. Why they're drinking. What they're drinking. How much they're drinking. When they're drinking. Excuses, excuses.

The facts are this, there are varying degrees of alcohol problems, and just because someone isn't Charlie Sheen messed up all the time from their drinking doesn't mean there isn't reason for concern. One day it could be that bad, if you don't step up. So, this is me, doing what I can to step up--the only way I know how.

To the person I'm writing this for, I have this to say:

I have never screamed and swore at someone so viciously...
I have never been so cut down, hurt, or enraged by someone's words...
I have never been so embarrassed to be with someone in public...
I have never hated someone so much...
I have never had someone ruin more holidays, celebrations, or good days...
...than you, when you've been drinking.
I've been told that I can't let go of the past, but the more I consider it, the more I see that this is not true. I have forgiven a lot. I have looked beyond a lot. But every time incidents like this happen it is impossible not to remember all the other times. These incidences taint all the good you've done since the last incident. I think you need to consider that you might have a problem. Look at all the bridges you've burned. Look at the relationships you've strained or destroyed. Look at the people who are no longer in your life. Ask yourself if there is a pattern.

I think if you quit drinking then maybe the fighting would stop and incidences like what happened last week would no longer be an issue. Maybe then the healing can begin...maybe then the forgiveness can be more permanent...maybe then all the good that you do can be more fully appreciated.

Graduation!

2011-05-22T15:00:00.000-04:00

I just want you all to know that my 9 day hiatus was not for nothing. I was finishing up my LAST semester as an undergrad. I was writing my last papers, handing in last assignments, taking my last finals, and attending my last classes. It was terrible and great and sad all at the same time.

I'm not going to miss nights like these.

Then I had to pack.
And I have to hand it to myself, I am an AMAZING packer. I packed up my entire room: 10 file sized boxes, two large totes, two smaller totes, a big box, and a huge suitcase...all in about six hours from start to finish. No lie. Pretty amazing.

Then I graduated.
The class speaker referenced "I'm on a Boat" in his speech and my day was made.
It happened. It's over. I am relieved.

I was even given flowers.
Oh and my sister and Alexa (my sister's roommate and a good friend of mine) spent a buttload of money to come and see it happen. A complete SURPRISE to me! Except when my dad kind of told me about it...because I needed to scrounge up tickets for them at the last second (which I did!). Still. Very surprising. I had no idea they were coming.

The very next day, as in yesterday, the world did not end so all my crap had to be loaded into the bad of a truck and I headed on back home to Vermont.

Goodbye New York City! I will miss you.

I'm only home for a couple weeks, and then I'm off to Europe!

Braving a 2AM Train to Nowhere Brooklyn

2011-05-13T12:51:00.000-04:00

After my Romantic Lit final Wednesday my girlie pals and I headed out for drinks and food--it turned into quite the adventure. We stayed out waaaay later than any of us expected, and some of us went way over our alcohol tolerance limits (not me though!). There were many a hilarious moment. Not to mention, the music was pretty rockin'. Unfortunately, I live a very long way away from all the fun, and when it came time to head home I was dreading it.

First off, my friends and I had to get on the 6 train UPTOWN because there was no downtown 6 trains running at the station we went to. Not cool. So we had to wait forever for the train to take up uptown, then once we got to a stop that had a downtown train we had to wait 20 minutes for another train to show up. One by one my friends left me to get to their own places, and I was alone...with a bunch of creepy, crazy, and scary men. Oh and the fun part? I still had to make another transfer, and ended up waiting a good half and hour or more for the F train at Broadway-Lafayette, at 1:30AM. Not fun.

As if it could not get any worse, when the train finally came I ended up sitting across from some guy who kept eying me. Every time I looked up at him he was staring at me in that creeper way. After about ten minutes of trying to ignore it I finally got up and moved to a spot all the way on the opposite side of the car from him, where he couldn't see me, next to the only other woman on the train. But eventually even she was gone, and it was just me again, with all these drunk weirdos.

Whatever buzz I might have still had, it was gone by then.

Somewhere along the way the train goes outside, where I get cell reception for a little while before we go underground again, and I just started tweeting like mad:

I do not recommend riding the subway to Brooklyn at 2AM. Unless you thrive off terror a little bit...

It's okay though--I got my rape whistle in hand and there are police at every station.

But I did move away from the creepy guy who kept eying me. Frickin' creeper...

5 more stops til I'm home. 5 more stops...

BBMak is playing on my iPod. How vintage. Ha!

How in the hell can we be stalled for train traffic when its 2.30AM?!

Luckily it's at the outdoor stops where I get cell reception so I can tweet.

Still... I could be home by now. So, not cool.

At this point I'm not going to be home until 2.45/3AM. *sigh*

Go train, go!

Okay, home.

Seriously though, I have balls of steel. I am a freaking superwoman.

It is amazing what can become a weapon when you really have to think about it. "I could stab a guy with these keys...or this pen..."

What a night. It took me at least two hours to get home--it usually takes 45 minutes tops. So frustrating. All I could think the whole time how how worried and upset my mom would be if she knew I was in such a sketchy situation. This is why I don't usually tell her these things until they are over, and she hated the idea of me walking home in the Upper East Side at midnight. Riding on a confining train with strangers, bound for Brooklyn? Whew. She is NOT gunna like that one.

As awful as it was, I like knowing I can handle it. I mean, to see people's faces when I tell them stories stories like this one--friggen PRICELESS. It's so worth it. No one can ever call me a coward, that's for sure.

Touché Universe, Touché...

2011-05-06T22:47:00.001-04:00

Remember that whole thing I wrote at the beginning of last October about my experience with Mormons? I told you about how I've been having run-ins with Mormons just about my whole life: the family that drove me home from kindergarten, my 4th grade pen-pal, my second cousins, one of my dearest friends, and so on and so on and so on. Although where I grew up seemed rife with them, Vermont isn't exactly known for it's high LDS population (only about 1% of the total population). So when I sat down to think about it, it seemed strange that I should so often find myself in the company of a Mormon...

There were many parents in the kindergarten carpool, how did I end up with the only Mormon ones?
So, we had about 20 kids from another 4th grade class, in a different school participating in the pen-pal thing with my class, how did I end up with the only Mormon girl?
Out of all my dad's cousins, why is one of his favorites the Mormon one?
Think about how many people can fit in a bus--how did I manage to befriend the only Mormon kid?
Of all the friends I could have become close with, how did a Mormon become one of my closest?
There are fifty states--when I went away for college both my Mormon second cousin and I ended up in Hawaii. What are the odds?
My sister's best friend and roommate in Tucson, Alexa, is an ex-Mormon (convert). Out of all the people in that city... and I became friends with her too while I was visiting last summer.

Then there are the ever increasing random moments...

One Sunday, on our way back from North Shore, my friend Ellie and I stumbled upon the LDS Temple in Laie. We weren't looking for it or anything, it was just there. Of course, I had to stop.

Watching Hulu, a commercial comes on, seems pretty normal--until it ends with, "and I'm a Mormon." And I'm like: "Whaaaaat?!"
Minding my own business on Facebook or YouTube when ads like this suddenly appear:

Watching Hulu again when a The Book of Mormon (Broadway Show by the creators of South Park) commercial comes on. And I'm like: "Sweet!" But also, "Are you kidding me Hulu?!"

I have to give the Universe a hand. I tell you, it has been one sly trickster about this Mormon thing. I mean, when I was little I didn't e. But I figured that these would be its last jabs at me, seeing as I'm leaving for Europe soon, and as you all should know because you watch/read the news: Europe is pretty much void of all religion (except in maybe in Rome). So no more of that! Ha! In your face Universe!

But then, last night, I discovered this:

That's right. I'm graduating right across the street from THE ONLY Mormon Temple in all of New York City.
Touché Universe, touché.
Gwen, my Mormon friend, thinks all these things are a sure sign that God is just about screaming at me, "Become Mormon!" and I'm not listening. Okay, well, I am listening, or else I wouldn't even notice that this stuff happens to me ALL THE TIME. I'm simply not inclined to do anything about it, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I love the Mormons. I love their sense of true community. I love how happy they all seem. I love how nice they really, genuinely are. I am so jealous. I wish I could be Mormon.

However, I'm just not the religious type. I am too doubtful for it.

I don't know. Maybe when I go home I'll talk to my friend who just got back from his two year mission and get his opinion on all this.

So, Bin Laden's Dead...

2011-05-02T23:03:00.001-04:00

I need to talk about this whole Bin Laden being dead thing.

I'm not sure or not if this is appropriate, but I am the kind of person who likes to have accounts of these kinds of historical events. I come back every once in a while to read all the things I wrote, and who knows, maybe someday my kids will ask about how I found out, what I was doing, ect. I realize one never forgets moments like this, but the little things fade away. There are some details about 9/11 I will never be able to recall. It's so hazy.

Anyway, here's my account of how last night and today went down for me--for my future-self's reference.

At 11:03PM I was in bed watching Scrubs on Netflix, wishing I was watching the Borgias (because it was Sunday night, but I don't have Showtime), when my Dad texted me: "Bin Laden finally bites the dust. Watch out for terrorist reprisals."

Of course, being a little shocked but unsure of the validity, I immediately went on Facebook/Twitter. I found that the firestorm of status updates and Tweets had already begun. Here is my Twitter reaction (Bold=Actual Tweet, the part in the brackets is my added commentary):

Facebook and Twitter have just blown up. Bin Laden is dead? Wow. Wow. Wow. History is being made.

Come on Obama, I wanna hear the news! Address us! I have both CNN and whitehouse.gov streaming...nothing is happening. Maybe Obama is coming up with something really awesome to say, that's why it's taking so long. OR he's waiting for the 11PM news to be over... [Turns out he was editing his speech up until he went out to speak.]

NYC is all about the parades. I think there should be a parade. [NYC has a Columbus Day parade, seriously, they will find any excuse for a parade.]

My roommate is sleeping. I want to wake her up to tell her, but I don't think she would appreciate it. [She passed out at 10:30. Sinus infection. I heard her phone going off the whole time, but she was OUT, couldn't hear any of it.]

[After the speech was over:] Obama is simply a great speaker. For some reason, everything he says just comes off as awesome all the time. It's like a superpower.

What Obama really wanted to say: "In your face Royal Wedding! That's what you get for not inviting me. No more attention for you." [Karma, man.]

[After I witnessed a lot of negativity on Facebook towards Obama, as if Obama had just told the nation he went to Afghanistan and shot Bin Laden himself, instead of giving credit to the troops who actually did it.] I don't get all this Obama backlash. I get it, he didn't do it, the troops did. I can appreciate that. But why the hating? Geeze.

[This morning:] Wait. I just heard that the Navy Seals got Bin Laden. What the heck were they doing so far from water? Clearly I know nothing about the Navy Seals. [So I went to Wikipedia to find out.]

[Aaand later today:] You know what I've been thinking about all day? "America, F*@# YEAH! Coming again to save the mother f*@#ing day yeah!..." [America, F*@# YEAH! Freedom is the only way yeah!] Those South Park guys really got it right.

That about covers the Twitter stuff.

Today there were cops just about everywhere in Manhattan. When I got off the train I stood behind one in the escalator line, and then there was another one at the entrance of the station. My friends at school commented that they had also seen more cops than usual, just hanging around watching people. A little creepy, but it made me feel safe to know they were out there in force today. As I told my mom, it's not like there would be any massively organized attacks. There simply hasn't been enough time. But there could be a few angry wackos out there who wouldn't hesitate to do some minimal damage in revenge. So it's good to have the police out there watching for crazed weirdos, to catch them before they do anything terrible.

All day people kept talking about how they were happy Bin Laden was killed, but found it disturbing to feel celebratory. I agreed. Also, none of us are naive enough to believe that this means the wars are over. They are not. Someone will replace Bin Laden, because Islamic Extremism and their hatred of America and all Western ideals has not died with him. They will make Bin Laden their martyr and their hero.
The hopeful side of me would like to wish that this marks the beginning of the end of these wars and the terrorism and the hatred--that no one can really replace Bin Laden, though many may try--and, like the Nazi's and Soviets before them, they will burn themselves out with their radicalism and horrible mistreatment of their fellow human beings. I truly hope this, by my rational mind says otherwise.
Will it happen? Only time will tell.

Pet Peeves: Orange Cheese

2011-04-30T11:20:00.000-04:00

In case you're wondering, no, orange is not a natural color for cheese. It just doesn't happen. In no part of the process will cheese go from a milk white to this oppressive orange. The manufacturers add dye to make it look that way. I have always preferred the every so slightly yellow color that cheese takes naturally. Of course, no one would call it yellow really, not when it's sitting on the shelf next to the likes of the aggressively orange cheese. It'd be like if you took a look at me standing amongst the cast of Jersey Shore. White. White. White.
For the longest time I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to dye cheese such an unnatural color, let alone eat it. So I finally looked it up, and according to "The Cheesemonger" on thekitchn.com:

"Dying cheese orange originated in England many years ago, when the color of cheese fluctuated throughout the year with a cow's diet and the subsequent variations in beta-carotene and fat content of her milk. In the winter, when cows ate hay or silage, milk would be whiter, whereas in the spring and summer, when milk was rich in beta-carotene from eating fresh grass, milk would be more yellow and richer in fat and flavor, which also meant that it tasted better.
Manufacturers, therefore, decided to standardize product year-round by making every batch of cheese the same color. The color that became the standard was an even more vibrant tone of that yellow shade, believing that they could somehow convey a high level of quality with a color that conveyed such positive attributes. "

So the freaky orange color was pretty much used to trick consumers into believing they were buying really awesome cheese. But now, at least in my opinion, that color has all sorts of negative connotations. I look at cheese that orange and it just screams "UNHEALTHY!" and "GROSS!" I know in my head that the dye does not/should not make the product any different from undyed cheese...but the color really bothers me. Any time I'm forced to purchase orange cheese (due to lack of options because I'm picky about my cheese--gotta have EXTRA sharp cheddar), it simply doesn't taste as good as the normal kind. Although that could be due to the fact that my favorite cheese is the high quality expensive Vermont stuff, and when I buy the cheap orange stuff it's never going to compare...
Still.
Orange cheese annoys me, and I was really upset when I went to the store today and all they had in extra sharp cheddar was the fake orange crap. Blerg. Though I do appreciate the irony that the color, which was meant to attract, now repels.

The Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T21:28:00.000-04:00

Fourteen years ago I sat in bed at 5am with my mom, watching Princess Diana's funeral. I was probably up that early because I was nine years old, and back then 5am was like 8am is to me now--a little too early to be up, but not that far out of reason. However, I was also fascinated by the British Royals and the tragedy of this great woman's sudden death. I know this because I kept a diary back then, and I wrote in it how stunned and saddened I was by the loss of Diana, although I really didn't know much about her except that she was a Princess and did lots of charitable things. I was only 9 after all.

I hadn't planned on watching the Royal Wedding this morning, but when I woke up at 3:58am feeling no signs of grogginess and oddly spirited, I took it as a sign. So there I was again, sitting in bed in the wee hours of the morning, captivated by the Royal Family and history of the moment--though I was glad it was for much happier reasons.

Let me just say, that even when I was nine years old I had the sense enough to know Prince William was a catch. I am thankful that I grew up at a time when there was a real Prince Charming walking around. I feel sorry that my mother's generation had Charles. How disappointing.
There has been a lot of talk about how Kate Middleton has chosen this princess life. Not everyone would be comfortable with the spotlight. But seriously, who would turn a thing like that down?!Who wouldn't want to be the future Queen of England? Who wouldn't want to marry a real live prince?! Especially when that Prince is as handsome as Prince William?

I mean, come on. No girl in her right mind would turn that down. No way. No how.

Watching the wedding today was only further proof to me that William is worth the adoration. Not just because he is nice to look at, but because he seems to have a genuine heart. It was all plain in his nervousness, his smiles, and the way he looked at Kate.

What would I give to have a man like him look at me like that?
Kate Middleton is one lucky girl. I envy her. She has the world.

The only tragedy? William is balding...badly. It's much worse than I was led to believe. It was really upsetting. I don't understand why something can't be done about it. He's a prince after all! I've heard that he doesn't mind, but I'm not sure how much I believe that...
Oh well. I just wonder where it all went. It wasn't that long ago that he had a full head of gorgeous hair.

Anyway, the wedding was just about perfect. I wasn't too sure about the crazy hats. Loved the trees. I approved of Kate's dress, and I loved her flowy veil. She was just so pretty. There was even a couple times when I got all teary eyed, like when Kate got out of the car with her dad, and they had those last few moments before they went in; and William saw Kate, and told her she looked beautiful.

There was only one moment when my giggly comedian self came out, and that was when the guy with the pope getup walked up to the couple to begin the ceremony. I so wanted him to start out with: "Mawage. Mawage is what bwings us togevah today. Mawage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wivin a dweam..."
You'll only get that reference if you've seen The Princess Bride as many times as I have, but I assure you it was totally appropriate and fitting and hilarious.

My friend Juno has always believed I would marry a Brit. I hope that when I'm there in Europe, visiting my English friends, that I meet my own "prince charming." Wouldn't that be nice?

Paperwork Done. Future Unknown.

2011-04-27T22:51:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I sent in the last of the paperwork necessary for my Luxembourg work visa. I'm not too worried about it going through. My employers looked over the letters and approved them before I mailed them out. My CV wasn't amazing, but they aren't hiring me they're just making sure I have some kind of qualifications. I have no idea how long it will take, but it would be nice to have some kind of notification before I leave.

I am much more worried about the move to Germany. You see, sometime in the coming months, the family I'm nannying for will be moving back to Germany, where they're from, and for me to join them I will need to get a visa for Germany as well. While Germany doesn't have as many roadblocks, I do have to prove that I have some significant knowledge of German (A2 level), even though I don't need it to do my job.
You all know I've been attempting to teach myself German, but to be honest I have been slacking pretty hard on my lessons these past few months. As in, I have not being doing them at all. School and life has been getting in the way.
Not good.
I'm hoping that I'll have enough time with my German family (say three months or so), to get the hang of it more completely before we move to Germany--so I can ace that test...or at least pass it comfortably. If this does not happen I am so screwed. So, so, sooo screwed. I suck at foreign languages as evidenced by my consistent B/C grades in French and Spanish over the years.

But you know what? I'm trying not to worry myself about it. What will be, will be. Even if I only have a few months in Europe, that would still be amazing.

Though, there's the whole problem of figuring out my life if I have to come back before I planned...it will certainly involve imposing myself on friends or family, and I have almost no idea what I'll do for work. I can't go back to minimum wage jobs. I just can't! No one can possibly survive on that, especially not someone trying to pay off student loans. I need a salary.
Talk about a panic.
Hopefully it doesn't come to that, because I can't think about it right now. I mean, I know my year in Europe will end eventually, and then I'll have to make all sorts of decisions, but I really need that time to come up with a course of action. Grad School? Teaching Certification? Stay in Europe to teach English? Open my own daycare? Go to South Korea to teach? Who knows.
I sure don't.
Why does adult life have to be so hard?!

And to think I was perfectly calm about this all only a few hours ago...psh.

Narnia vs The Real World

2011-04-25T13:04:00.000-04:00

Last night, I watched the newest instillation of The Chronicles of Narnia films: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and guess what? I cried at the end.
I always cry at the end.
Why?
Because I think it totally sucks that those kids always have to leave, and sometimes that bastard, Aslan, decides they can't come back! Ever! But the kids are just fine with it, even though they are always complaining about how much they can't stand the real world. I suppose that makes them mature or something, that they can accept going back to their real lives with no fuss.

Psh. Screw that.

I would never willingly leave Narnia. As far as I'm concerned, Aslan would have to drag me out of there, kicking and screaming. Who would ever want to leave? Especially if you were a King or Queen! If I was a Queen somewhere there is no way in hell I would ever be okay with giving that up to come back to this, where I am nobody, and animals can't talk, and there aren't strange creatures in the woods. This life is incredibly dull in comparison to the life one could have even as a non-royal inhabitant of Narnia - add Queen on there and well, wow, there is simply no comparing, the choice is obvious. Real world loses BIG TIME.

Boyfriend of the Week: Ryan Gosling

2011-04-24T15:08:00.000-04:00

Oh Ryan Gosling.

What is there to say?
I watched The Mickey Mouse Club was a very little, and while I might have forgotten him when he was out of the spotlight, I instantly recalled him when he returned in Remember the Titans. "Hey! That guy was on Disney! Wow he's cute..."
Very cute.

Since then Ryan has been in all sorts of movies, and I have to say - the man is a brilliant actor. I've seen him play everything from the total romantic to a manipulative murderer. I bet the only movie most of you have seen him in is The Notebook. That's all you know of his work. To you, I say that you need to go out and see some of his other stuff. ASAP. He definitely doesn't go for the blockbuster type of movies. He's been in a lot of Indie flicks, but in my opinion those can be some of the best films out there.

Two really good ones that have come out recently are All Good Things and Blue Valentine. The first one, All Good Things, is based on shockingly actual events surrounding Robert Durst, the son of a New York real estate mogul. His wife disappeared in 1982, and she has never been found. It is believed that Durst had something to do with it. Kirsten Dunst plays the wife. It was really good, and Ryan was super creepy, like he dresses in drag kind of creepy. Yeah.

The second, Blue Valentine, I just watched last night. It follows a couple (Ryan, of course, and Michelle Williams) at the beginning and end of their relationship. The present, when things are falling apart, is mixed with flashbacks of their first encounters. It's dramatic, but so realistic. Kinda cute, but also depressing. Movies rarely tell both the romantic, falling in love story intermingled with the end, hating each other story. Very unique. Talk about a roller coaster ride of emotions.

I like Ryan in just about any role, because no matter the part - creepy, drugged out, romantic, mentally unstable, etc, etc, he's still so friggen gorgeous. I haven't had that many blond men grace my list, but I glad Ryan is now one of the few. I've seen him in other hair colors, but blond suits him best.
I also prefer it when he's got some beard scruff going on. Makes him look manly...rugged. You guys know how I go for that...

Pet Peeves: All Caps

2011-04-20T22:05:00.000-04:00

A long, long time ago there was a popular website called Homestar Runner, which featured a whole lot of hilarious original cartoons. It's still there...it just hasn't been updated in at least a year or two. So sad. I believe my friend Gwen discovered it, or at least told me about it, and it spiraled out of control from there, because when I obsess about stuff I generally tend to cram it down everyone's throat until I'm over it.
Anyway! There is a segment known as "Strong Bad Email" and one the emails, called "sugarbob," begins with Strong Bad reading an email written to him in all caps. It goes like this:

DEAR STRONGBAD
MY GIRLFRIEND WON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE
BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. I DON'T
KNOW WHAT TO DO, MAYBE YOU COULD TELL
HER THAT I AM COOL AND YOU ARE TAKEN.
SINCERELY
YOUR JEALOUS FAN,
DANIEL

Strong Bad reads it in this loud, monotone voice, because, well, how else should one read something that is written in all caps? His response to the all caps extravaganza is very appropriate, and if you've ever heard the Strong Bad character read it outloud, it is also pretty hilarious:
"Number A, you don't have to shout. Do you know how many Internet etiquette laws you're breaking by typing in all caps like that? Well, you're breaking one: Don't type in all caps."

And that pretty much defines my whole stance on writing in all caps. First, it sounds like you are either shouting or have inexplicably become a robot, and second, it simply breaks all the rules of writing...ever. I understand that there was a time when lower case letters didn't exist, and there was also a time when typewriters/computers weren't lower case capable. But now we have lower case letters and computers do allow you to type like you would write, so...use them!

I have no idea why anyone would think it is okay to type an entire email or comment or anything in all caps unless you really and truly mean to be yelling or screaming. I mean, where does this compulsion come from? What is going through a person's mind when they sit down to write something and decide, "Yes, I think I will press the caps lock and just go for it." I mean, one actually has to decide to type that way, unlike with all lower case. Why do we even have a caps lock on keyboards? The only reason I can think of, is so that people can make fools of themselves.

Whenever I type with all caps it's usually just one word, or one sentence, and I do it to emphasize my excitement or anger about something. You know, words I really might say very loudly if I said them to you in the same context. Other than that - I just don't get it, and it bugs me...a lot.
So, please stop.

Misery at Mansfield Park

2011-04-18T20:33:00.000-04:00

As of this 3AM this morning, I have officially read three of Jane Austen's six novels: Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park. As an English major, I feel obliged to read them all. Someday I will. At least I have half of them down, so I can rightly participate in an scholarly conversation on Austen without feeling like I'm missing something, or don't belong.

However, the truth is that I have always had this love/hate relationship with Jane Austen, and I think you'll understand why soon enough.

The book I read yesterday was Mansfield Park. I watched the 1999 movie version of it a couple years ago, and I enjoyed it. So I wasn't upset at the prospect of having to read it for my Romantic Lit class. But as it always is with movie adaptations, there was a difference in the book.
Throughout most of the story the general feel was pretty much the same as the movie. All the characters had a similar disposition. Sure their were variances in scenes, but all that was to be expected. Then, about three quarters of the way through there was a most disturbing change in the matter of Henry Crawford.
(I'm sorry if you never read the book, but to be honest - it is nearly 200 years old, so I will not apologize for any spoilers I'm about to give away.)
You see, Henry Crawford was an unabashed flirt in the first part of the novel. Both of Fanny Price's (the heroine of the tale) cousins, Maria and Julia Bertram, fall in love with Mr Crawford. He prefers the eldest, Maria, even though she is engaged to be married. It is all a bit scandalous to consider, even in these modern times. However, nothing really happens. At least Austen doesn't allude to any severe wrong-doing on Henry and Maria's part. It just seems to be a fancy. I doubt they even kissed. Henry simply enjoys having ladies fling themselves at him, which is not a bad thing as long as no ones' reputation is damaged. And it's not.
Maria marries her betrothed, and Mr Crawford goes away for a while.
When he comes back, he takes a liking to Fanny. He believes she has suddenly become very striking. But she saw the way he treated her cousins, and therefore treats him with hardly contained disdain. At first he confesses to his sister that he wants to make her fall in love with him too, just because Fanny seems to abhor him. It's a challenge for him.
However, it is he who finds himself falling in love with her! The more time he spends with her, the more he truly appreciates all the qualities of her character. For him, Fanny is not like any other girl he has ever encountered. And he confesses this all to his sister, and even tells her that he wants to marry Fanny. He does it in such a way that even I am convinced that his feelings are completely genuine. He will do anything to be with Fanny. Mary Crawford is thoroughly shocked at her brother's sudden change, and takes it as a sure sign that this love of his has to be the real deal, because he has never spoken of marriage to any other girl before.
In the movie, I disliked Henry Crawford the whole time. He was an ass. The whole time he courted Fanny it seemed like a game, nothing but a ploy to have a permanent connection to Maria Bertram forever, maybe even to make her jealous. His intentions never seemed true. I was routing for Fanny all the way.
But in the book I actually grew to like Henry. He was trying so hard. He was ridiculously kind. He went out of his way to give Fanny every happiness he could give. And yet she kept denying him - even when everyone told him what a changed man he seemed. It made me want to punch her in the face. If I had been Fanny Price, I would have been cautious too - at first. But after that time when he goes to visit her in Portsmouth when she is at her parents' house, wow, I would have said yes then.

Oh but how convenient Jane Austen makes it for Fanny in the end! In an awful twist of events she makes Henry Crawford out to be a womanizing demon, who impulsively runs off with her married cousin after they ran into each other in London - ruining every chance he ever had with Fanny and destroying both his and Maria's reputations forever. Austen makes a note of how bitterly he regretted this after it was all done.
With both the Crawfords out of the way after all this scandal, Fanny ends up with Edmund Bertram, HER COUSIN, just like she always wanted.

I am so angry at Jane Austen for this. I wanted Henry to redeem himself. He would have been endlessly exciting. Edmund Bertram is sweet enough, yes, and I guess perfect for Fanny in that they are both modest, quiet, and conservative in their views. But Henry was SO nice...
Austen is always punishing passionate girls and exciting men, while rewarding the meek and the reserved - it is so frustrating! Though, I'm really not sure why this upsets me. Aggressive women and men who use women for their flights of fancy are horrible to me, and they should be put in their place. I never complained about what happened with Mr Wickham and Lydia in P&P, or Mr Willoughby in S&S, but for some reason her treatment of Henry Crawford and Fanny's cousin Maria was too much. I felt everyone had already been punished enough, and Henry was making up for all his wrongs (kind of like Darcy did). I mean, Maria had to marry that stupid Mr Rushworth. I think that was bad enough. But to have her disgraced further by eloping with Henry, then Henry dumping her, and then being divorced and therefore unmarriable after all that scandal...wow that is just harsh.

I have always felt Austen was a little conservative and her endings were a little far fetched for their time, but this was pretty terrible. Everyone was a bit miserable in the end...well, everyone except Fanny, who got everything she ever could have wished for. Blah.
I will never forgive Jane Austen for this one.

I suppose Pride and Prejudice will always be my favorite.

The Pharmacy Curse

2011-04-16T23:53:00.003-04:00

I have never had good luck with pharmacies. I don't know what is it about me, but I if I have to get a prescription, you can pretty much guarantee something will happen to make it difficult for me. For example:

- One time, my debit card inexplicably refused to work, so I couldn't pay for my drugs, even though I had plenty of money in my account to cover the cost.
- On several occasions there have been issues with my health insurance/RX card, like they won't cover something or I've been kicked off without being informed. In fact, it has happened so often, that I have a hard time believing health insurance/RX plans even exist except to make my life miserable.
- They won't let me get my pills because not enough time has passed since I last picked up my prescription. It's only birth control! What am I going to do? Get high off estrogen? Sell them to girls in the bathroom at school? I just want my effing pills! Usually this is the insurance's fault too. Those bastards.

And so the list goes on.
It's so bad that I actually get excited when I can manage to procure my prescription without any issues.

Anyway, this past Tuesday I had to get a prescription filled. I've never had to go to the pharmacy closest me, so that meant the whole ordeal of being a new account. Annoying. So the woman is taking down all my information: address, telephone number, birth date, etc. And she is writing it down all wrong. I had to correct her at least three times.
I tell her my birthday, and I can clearly see that she wrote down 24 instead of 22. "That's 22," I explain. She does nothing to change it. Maybe she just wrote the second two weird, I think to myself.
"One-eleven." She writes eleven. "No, there's another one. One hundred and eleven."
"Route..." She writes root. "No it's not root, it's r-o-u-t-e."
"Oh and that's not a Brooklyn address." She looks as me, completely dumbfounded. "It's a Vermont address." She kind of rolls her eyes.

To be fair to myself I totally offered to write it all for her, but she wouldn't let me. Luckily, the rest of the info was on the prescription. So I was spared further agonies. She told me it would take 40 minutes. There was no way I was hanging out in Rite Aid for 40 minutes. So I decided to head home.
Just as I stepped outside it decided to start down pouring. I left my umbrella at home.
Awesome.
40 minutes later I walk back. It's still raining and miserable. Good think I have umbrella this time.
When I get there, they inform me that they need my RX card, not my health insurance card. Now this might be on me for not thinking of the RX card, but I have never had two separate cards for health insurance and RX before so sue me, and besides they had my number, they couldn't have called to tell me to bring it? Jesus.
So I walked all the way back home, rummaged around all the places where I could have put the damn RX card, found it, and then walked back. It was still raining. Blah.
This time I got my pills and I was too happy to do to the sensible thing - like look to make sure everything what right.
When I got home I realized that they had written my Vermont street address, but placed it in Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure this street does not exist in Brooklyn. What the hell? Then, sure enough, my birthday was still wrong - 24 instead of 22. Are you kidding me?! I told her TWICE that it was 22! And finally, the worst part, on the bottom it said NO REFILLS LEFT.
Uhm. No.
My doctor specifically told me she was giving me five refills. I read it on the prescription. I knew it was there. Needless to say I was not happy. How could these people be so epically incompetent!! I actually had to Google the drug name on the bottle to make sure I had the right pills. They were.

The next day I went back to make sure everything got straightened out. Fortunately, there were different people working that day, and the man who helped me was extremely helpful and understanding. He fixed everything. He smiled and he told me to have a nice day. This was a completely different experience from the day before and I actually walked out feeling pretty great. The guy saved the Rite Aid for me. I was fully prepared to never get my drugs there ever again, but after his food service, it is redeemed.
Oh what a little kindness and a smile can do.

Pet Peeves: Grammar

2011-04-15T19:50:00.002-04:00

This is going to be the beginning of a series I'm calling "Pet Peeves," where I will complain about things that annoy me. It feels good to complain sometimes. Lots of people like to simply list their pet peeves, but I feel like each peeve has its own story and deserves special attention - hence, the series.

So, today I want to talk about Grammar.

I realize none of us are perfect. I certainly won't claim that I am. There are probably a couple typos and maybe even a few grammatical errors in this post. But in an age when everything is automatically spell-checked, spelling should never be an issue. So even if you've written the wrong word, at least you spelled it right. Therefore, I rarely see spelling mistakes these days, and that is awesome.

So, what usually gets me are the grammar mistakes. No it doesn't really bother me when someone puts a comma in the wrong place or uses a semi-colon wrong, because despite all my English classes and my TEFL course, I still can't figure that stuff out. However, some form of punctuation is a necessity, and when I see a Facebook status like, "I just ate at Outback with Gary it was so good then we went to the movies to see BlahBlahBlah and it was mind blowing you all have to see it", my eye twitches and I find myself grinding my teeth a little.
Then there are the people who simply refuse to cohere to any form of capitalization, as if just takes too much work to press the shift key and the letter key at the same time: "i just ate at outback with gary. it was so good." Again, my eye is twitching and my teeth are grinding.
And we can't forget the people who don't seem to know that apostrophes exist. Oh, and then there are also the people who can't seem to put the "g" at the end of any word ending in "ing." More gnashing of teeth and twitching of eye.
The worst part is that all these types of people are usually combined into just one incredibly grammar-phobic person: "i cant believe how expensive it is to go to the movies now im never goin again i dont care how amazin the movie is" and then I might as well have an aneurysm or something...

Now, I think the internet has gone beyond the age of abbreviations, unless it's something like "OMG" or "WTF," but the days of writing 2 instead of two/too/to, u instead of you, r instead of are, cuz instead of because, etc...are long gone. It's been over for quite a while, but some people are trapped in 2005 or something and they still think it's cool. But it's not cool and I am laughing at them. It's simply no longer acceptable to write as if you're composing a text message. I can't even allow myself to write that way in text messages anymore (or any other place where you have character length restrictions, like Twitter).

Finally there are the all too common word mistakes. You know, the ones they DRILL into your head in school and yet there are those of us in the English world who just can't seem to get it right:
- your / you're
- there / their / they're
- then / than
- here / hear
- breathe / breath *
- weather / whether *
- lose / loose *
- chose / choose *
- etc, etc, etc...
(* = added later)

I seriously have to wonder how these people ever graduated high school, let alone made it into college with typing skills like this. I mean, some of them graduated with me! How did they do it? I don't understand... are they just rusty?

I have to admit that I have not always been the biggest adherer of grammar or spelling. Files upon files of old instant message conversations and blog posts from my high school years are evidence of that fact. Maybe my Grammar Nazi ways are a bad reaction to the years I spent as a grammar/spelling violator. When I was in high school, I had a friend who was a Grammar Nazi, and wow, it must have pained her to have instant message conversations with the rest of us. Luckily we all got over it by the time we graduated. But man, I feel her pain now.

Boyfriend of the Week: François Arnaud

2011-04-11T16:40:00.000-04:00

The Borgias aired on Showtime two weeks ago, and ever since I have been in love with this stunningly handsome actor: François Arnaud.

I don't know much about François because he's relatively new to the whole fame thing, which is why, if you have yet to see The Borgias, you have no idea who this is. What I do know is that he's French Canadian, and can speak French, English, and Spanish fluently. Uhm. Yes please! That's all I need to know! Handsome, French, trilingual. Done. When can we get married?

Some of the pictures I found of him with short hair, I was like...meh. There is simply something about the dark long hair they have him flaunting in the show that just gets me. One could say I have a weakness for it... and I would completely agree.

I knew absolutely nothing about the history behind The Borgias before I started watching. Of course, after the first episode I did my usual Wikipedia research, and holy crap were those people screwed up. Murder, assassination, money power, corruption... man oh man. Sounds like my kind of history.
The Borgias is in the same vein as The Tudors, and I loved freaking loved that show. Period dramas are the best, if they're done right, and I think Showtime knows how to pull it off perfectly. I am such a history nerd.

François plays Cesare Borgia, that's pronounced chez-sah-ree borj-ah. I love the way they all say Cesare. Sounds nice. Suits him. I would explain all the intricacies of the family and François' character, but really, you should just watch it for yourself. It's too good not to.

Is this really happening?

2011-04-08T13:20:00.001-04:00

[Note: When I say Republicans I mean the majority of Republican elected officials running us into the ground, not Republicans as a whole, or in general.]

I don't know if any of you have been paying attention to what's going on in Washington DC right now, but here it is, in a nutshell: The US Government is hours away from SHUTDOWN due to a budgetary stalemate in the House and Senate. This shutdown will put everything on hold; thousands of jobs will be furloughed (aka temporary layoffs until this is resolved), paychecks for the military will suspended, and so on. It will cripple an already wounded economy.

Tea Party Republicans, as in John Boehner and his ilk, are saying that this is about spending, but that is an outright lie. This is what the Republicans are fighting for:

- Cutting off all funds to family planning programs such as Planned Parenthood. As I've said many times before, only 3% of Planned Parenthood's resources goes to abortion related services. The other 97% goes into low-cost cancer screening, STD treatment, birth control, counseling, etc for women of all walks of life (and men if they chose to utilized PP's services). Most of the people who use Planned Parenthood's resources have no other options. They cannot afford to see regular doctors. Without it there will be a disturbing rise in unwanted pregnancies, STD infection, terminal reproductive cancer, medical debt, and subsequently mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety.
These are your wives, mothers, aunts, sisters, girlfriends, cousins, nieces, and daughters we are talking about. How could anyone agree to this disaster? Do you really want us to live this way? Are we actually regressing as a society?

- As if all that wasn't enough, they also want to cut off foreign to any country who might use that money for abortion or family planning. Notice the word "might." What the heck is that supposed to mean?! This means that we no longer give to the United Nations Population Fund, because it supports family planning services. Think about places that NEED family planning, like Africa, India, etc.

- And finally in the health care department, they want to cut off all funds to Health Care Reform, essentially screwing over the middle class as well as the poor. Lovely.

- Oh and this isn't just about women, the Republicans also want to institute a no regulations policy on greenhouse gas emissions, by cutting support to the EPA. Awesome.

The Democrats have given in to a lot of the Republican's demands, but on these things they refuse to waiver. One would think that all the allowances they made would have been enough, but these also seem to be the things that Republicans won't back down either. They are using the shutdown as an extortion method in the hopes that Democrats will give in for fear of being blamed, but in the end it's clear that the Democrats aren't the ones being unreasonable.

All of this action being taken against women's health programs/services and the unions involved in standing up for fields traditionally employing women (teaching and nursing) honestly freaks me out more than I can express. When it first started I thought it would blow over, after all, there have always been disagreements about abortion, but I never thought it would turn into this. Now I am truly concerned. I am scared. I feel disrespected. I am in a state of complete shock.
Is this really happening? Here? Now? When will it end?

Being a Vermont voter, I am lucky enough to have both senators (Patrick Leahy and Bernie Sanders) and the one representative Vermont gets (Peter Welch) standing on my side, and that gives me some comfort. However, in comparison to other states and their many representatives, where do my three stand? What kind of sway do they have? That's a little depressing...
Still, I feel powerless.
The only thing I can do is say something here. Maybe my words will reach out to someone who hasn't done all they could do, and they'll call their Senators and Representatives, or sign the petitions. The best thing I can do is inform.

Don't believe the lies.
This is about women.
Stand up for yourselves.

[Go here to Stand with Planned Parenthood. And read these two articles: One, Two. They are were I got all my information.]

Nagging Regrets

2011-04-06T23:17:00.000-04:00

I was thinking recently about all the bridges I've burned, and it's hard not to blame myself sometimes - even though I know full well that I couldn't have done it alone. There was a time in my life not too long ago when I told myself I had no regrets because a lot of the bad things that had happened were beyond my control.

Now there is a whole year I would wish away if I could, and moments that I look back on and wish I handled them differently. There are times when I'm sitting on the train on my way to or from school, and I become overwhelmed by the bad choices I've made. I don't know why they still bother me. Maybe this is just a part of getting older. Haunted by memories. Why couldn't I be one of those people who lives in denial; who boxes up the stuff she prefers not to remember - like they never happened?

I wonder, does everyone feel this way? Do the people who hurt me regret the things they did and said? Does it nag at them they way it does to me? Do they wish we were still friends?

Am I the unwitting villain of my own story?

I no longer hold grudges for the things that happened in high school. Why should I? That was five years ago. We were all hormone crazed, extremely passionate, and over-dramatic. The smallest incidences could have triggered the end of the world. We were monsters. We couldn't control ourselves. Even the shyest and nicest of us were guilty of hurting someone, whether we knew it or not. No one was innocent.
It's the stuff after high school that I have a hard time letting go of. We were supposed to be smarter, wiser, mature...adults. How could we be so petty? What is wrong with human beings that makes us so vicious to each other? There is a misconception when you're young that being an adult means that all the troublesome teenager stuff will be long behind you. It's not true, the but wanting or expecting it to be true makes all these outrages more terrible, and less easy to look past.
Still, all that considered, I have forgiven everyone who has ever asked for it, and even some who haven't.

The only person I can't seem to forgive is myself. I can't even forgive myself for the petty high school stuff! Even though I ask for it daily...even though I beg myself to let it go. I'm still holding a grudge against me for every mean thing I said, every person I pushed away, every piece of vile gossip I passed along, every stupid and reckless decision I ever made, etc, etc... it's endless.

How does one begin to forgive themselves for only being human?
Why do I hold myself to a higher standard?

It's times like these that I'm sure some people turn to religion. Too bad I don't have one.

Plastic Bag Computer

2011-04-02T22:10:00.000-04:00

I've have become paranoid about having drinks anywhere in spilling distance. Usually this involves keeping the beverages away from it completely. Though I've definitely caught myself placing a glass of iced tea on the same desk as my precious computer. And I'm like, "Cassandra! Jesus Christ! Get that stuff away from here! What were you thinking?! Oh, clearly you weren't!"

However, there are moments when this is just a hassle I can't self-impose on myself. So, last night resorted to putting a plastic bag over my laptop's keyboard so I could enjoy a beer and not have to worry about accidentally destroying my new baby.

No judging. And yes, I was totally watching That 70's Show. Hyde is my FAVORITE!

Clearly I am still traumatized by the suddenly loss of my old computer.

Boyfriend of the Week: Matt Bomer

2011-03-31T23:45:00.000-04:00

This guy has made me melt ever since the first time I saw his gorgeous blue eyes and subtle smile on the side of a New York City bus nearly two years ago. It was an ad for a new USA show called White Collar, and they were all over the place in the fall of 2009. I've never been hooked by an ad before, maybe a commercial, but an ad? No. Without much else to go on except the devastatingly handsome man on those ads, I decided I needed to watch that show, and I've been a fan of the show since the first episode - all thanks to Mr. Matt Bomer.

I know I say this a lot when it comes to boyfriends, but just look at the guy!

His character on White Collar, Neal Caffrey, is a mastermind criminal, aka: Bad Boy. Mm, mm, mmm. I have a soft sport for that type. What girl doesn't? The nice part is that this is a bad boy who is unafraid of commitment.
WHAT?!
That's right, you read it correctly. A bad boy who isn't afraid of commitment. That is my kind of guy.
Neal is always charming, impeccably dressed, crafty, and intelligent. I call that perfection.
Too bad he doesn't really exist.

I haven't seen Matt in any of his other work. To be honest, it's probably not worth watching - soaps, horror movies... you know, the usual job actors have to take if they want to be seen and make money. All the greats have done it, and Matt is no exception.

The only tragedy here is that Matt is gay (at least that's the general consensus, because he hasn't actually admitted it). I mean, it's a tragedy for me, and for any lady who loves looking at him, but for all those gay men out there - man, you guys are so damn lucky. I am jealous. So, so, sooooo jealous. Here's to hoping the rumors aren't true.

Also, I have it on good authority (as in straight from her fingertips to her Facebook page), that Anne Rice adores this guy. You all know that Anne Rice is my biggest influence, role model, hero, etc, etc. Anyway, turns out, she's also a big fan of White Collar, and she loves to talk about Matt, particularly when she is in a mood to cast actors in her characters' roles.
Matt, from day one, is her favorite for Louis.
And I would have to agree, a thousand times over. While I will never quite get the image of Brad Pitt out of my mind when I think of Louis, I know Matt is a better match, and I suspect he would be brilliant at the part. Personally, I think they should start The Vampire Chronicles over again with a new cast and just pump those babies out like they did with Harry Potter and Twilight. I do love the original Interview with the Vampire, but Queen of the Damned was a disaster. I think it would just be better to start fresh and do all the books proper justice.

But I digress, back to Matt.
What else is there to say really?
Just look at him and tell me you don't feel the same.

Tyler Bryant Band

2011-03-28T22:33:00.002-04:00

Tonight I went out to the Mercury Lounge here in NYC and saw the Tyler Bryant Band. I haven't ever heard any of their songs, and this always makes me a bit apprehensive about seeing a show because I like songs I'm familiar with. It gets me amped. You know? However, despite not knowing any of their stuff I was pretty into it. I enjoyed everything they played, and I'm a bit aggravated that I can't seem find any of their stuff on iTunes except one song. Grrr.

Anyway, I got a beer, and I shoved my way into the the front row of the crowd. I guess can be aggressive when it comes to music (just ask anyone whose been to a concert/festival with me). And man oh man, every time that Tyler Bryant kid looked at me... mmm, I melted a little. He sure is cute... and talented. *girly sigh* Too bad he's only 20-years-old. (I realize that's a petty three years difference from myself, but still... at my age, three years can be like an ocean apart in maturity and whatnot. A girl can though. Can't she?)

My camera can't seem to handle taking pictures in the dark, even with the flash on, so I didn't really get anything good picture wise. See...

But I did take some pretty okay videos and the sound isn't as distorted as I thought it would be. Yay!

It's not the whole song. I wanted to dance, and you can't dance when you're trying to record something. Sorry.

I didn't stick around to talk to the band. I am awful at awkward small talk. Not to mention the whole part where I'm shy...especially around cute boys and even more especially around cute boys who are in a kick ass band.
Sure, my third cousin is in that band, and one would think that would give me some kind of courage based on entitlement or something to strike up a conversation, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know that I exist, and I didn't feel good about playing the "I know you don't know me but we're related" card like some kind of crazy girl. I refuse to be that girl.

For me, I guess, it's enough that I paid to get in and showed my support - even if I don't get anything out of it except a chance to hear some good music.

Over all, it was good night. I needed a break from my obligations and this hit the spot. If they come to NYC again before I leave, I will have to see them again - for sure. And when they finally make a CD I can buy, I will fork out the cash for it because those boys are talented.

Good night all. I'm still partially deaf. I hope it's not permanent.

A Busy Break

2011-03-26T22:39:00.001-04:00

Has it really been a week since I last posted?
Wow.

Sorry.
I simply haven't had much to talk about. School. Boredom. Deadlines. Blah blah blah.

Now it's spring break, and I don't think it's going to be much of a holiday. I have so much to do! Here's a list:

1. Visa stuff.
I know I haven't really explained this, but I am actually going to be living in Luxembourg for a while and their visa process is a bit more complicated than Germany's. I have to write a letter asking for permission to work there and another letter stating why I want to go to Luxembourg. I also need a CV (aka a more complicated resume), an official copy of my birth certificate, a copy of every single page of my passport, and proof that I don't have a criminal history. Then there is the contract between me and my employer.
Surprisingly, I've gotten most of this done already. The hardest part is getting the criminal check. I've lived in different states, but it would be ridiculous to get one from each state. I suppose I could get a national one, but I have no idea how to go about that... So, since I'm still technically a legal resident of Vermont (I vote there, my license is a Vermont one, my permanent address is there, I'm still a dependent on my mom's taxes), I've decided to go through them. It requires a lot of running around. Forms to fill out. Notary. Blah.
But I should be done everything on my end of things by Monday night.

2. Creative Writing.
a) A report on blogging for my creative writing class. I know that doesn't quite make sense, a report for a creative writing class, but academia never quite makes a lot of sense.
b) Read assigned short story.
c) Read and edit 4-5 classmates' pieces.
d) Write a two page letter to my professor.
e) Revision of my short story.
f) Start work on a new piece.

3. Religion and Literature.
a) A Gospel according to me. Due whenever I finish it, and that needs to be soon. It's for extra credit.
b) Finish reading Thus Spoke Zarathusra by Nietzsche.
c) Read The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.
d) Write a two-page email of my interpretation of Thus Spoke Zarathusra and The Prophet to my professor.

4. Modern British Literature.
a) I got an extension on a paper that was due last Thursday. I have until this coming Thursday to email it to her. Luckily I have it pretty much all written out. I just need "scholarly sources" to back up my perfectly brilliant ideas. I hate that my opinions aren't enough, and I think it's ridiculous that I have to use someone else's thoughts to back up mine. So stupid. Academia...I tell you!
b) Research for my final paper.
c) One-page proposal for final research paper.
d) Start reading Times Arrow by Martin Amis.

5. Romantic Literature.
a) Eight to ten page paper on the genesis of Percy Shelley's poem "Adonais." Should be fun. Note the sarcasm. I love Shelley, but man oh man do I hate writing papers. Also, another girl in my class is writing her paper on the exact same thing. I feel obligated to be better than her. I feel extremely possessive of Shelley, and it bugs me that someone thinks they know more than me concerning him. This paper has to be AWESOME.
b) Read some more poems, I have no idea which ones. I don't even want to look at the syllabus right now.

6. German. Learn it. Gotta stop slacking.

However, there are some fun things I would like to do as well. Can't be all work. I refuse to be cooped up, wasting my last spring break on school work...

7. Go see Tyler Bryant Band play because my third cousin in the band, and it's only $10.

8. Check out the UN.

9. St. Patrick's Cathedral.

10. Brooklyn Flea Market.

That's pretty much my spring break... I'm not really looking forward to much of it. I have no idea how I'm supposed to get all of that crap done unless I'm working on it all my waking hours. None of my other spring breaks were this jammed.

The Story of How I Got a New Computer

2011-03-19T21:00:00.002-04:00

I am in a sad, sad state right now.

Last night, as I was preparing to go to bed, I got myself a glass of water and set it down on my nightstand. Then I set up my computer next to my bed on my desk chair, the way I do every night, because I like to fall asleep to movies and such (bad habit).
Anyway, just as I was settling in, I grabbed for the water. The details are hazy. Did I knock it over? Did I actually get a hand on the glass only to drop it? All I know is that water fell all over my computer.

I immediately shut it off and flipped it over so the water that hadn't made it into the hardware would leak out. Then I put a hair drier to it for a few minutes on the cool setting. And I left it sitting in a tent shape on my desk.

This morning it wouldn't start.

I tried not to panic, but as some of you might be aware I am naturally an anxious person. I over think and worry all the time. However, surprisingly enough, I didn't panic. It was amazing. I called my mom, told her what happened, and had her make an appointment for me at the nearest Apple Store - so they could check it out.

This afternoon I got on a train with my computer and headed to the Soho Apple Store. For future reference, never go to Soho on a Saturday. It is packed with slow-walking tourists. The store was swarming with them, and I was glad I had an appointment.
The guy at the genius bar took a look inside my precious baby, and it was still all wet. He told me that the problem with the newer models of the MacBook was the built-in battery. Since I couldn't remove the battery without opening up the computer, the battery was still pushing a charge through, and frying the circuits. So even though I did everything right in trying to save it, that stupid flaw in the way the thing was built is what killed it.
He told me I had two options. I could have them repair it, which would cost at least $750 and take several days, if not weeks to complete, and if the damage was too much they wouldn't even bother fixing it. Or, my second option was to buy a new computer, which was easily over $1000.
I need a computer. I'm in school. I have papers to write.

I called my mom.
We decided to go with a new computer.

So, my computer is dead. I'm pretty upset about it. After all, I only had it for a year. It shouldn't have ended this way. Isn't it silly how we get attached to things like that? But for a whole year and two months that thing was my world. I use my computer for everything. I am constantly on it. Homework. Research. Blogging. Surfing. Writing stories. TV. Movies. Emailing. Just...everything.
It was my best friend. It knew all my secrets.
I. Am. So. Sad.
I know I shouldn't beat myself up, but it's all so stupid. I can't believe something as random and ridiculous as knocking over a glass of water can have such awful repercussions. Not only is my computer dead, but my mom had to fork over a lot of money to get me a new one. I can't say thank you enough.

The only good things I can say are this: The people at Apple were extremely helpful and kind. I was there for about two hours, and I had several interactions with the staff there. They were very nice, and I appreciated it. Also, my hard drive was saved!! They checked it for me, and it turns out it wasn't damaged and still has all the data on it! They even told me how I can go about transferring the data to my new computer (since I didn't want to pay the big bucks for them to do it), and in the end I'll have an external hard drive. That's certainly a plus.

What a day. This is definitely going into the list of really awful days.
Meh.
And now I have a huge headache from all this madness. I just can't win. What a day, what a day.

[RIP Rio: December 30, 2009 - March 19, 2011]

My Top Five Go To Beers

2011-03-18T22:53:00.000-04:00

Since I've been talking about it a lot on Twitter over the past couple of days, and I'm drinking some right now, I thought it would be a good time to talk about my Top Five Go To Beers (aka Favorites...sort of). Here it goes:

1. Anything Magic Hat.

If I'm at a bar, and they have Magic Hat on tap - I'm going for it. Usually it's #9, which I like well enough because it's very flavorful. But when I'm buying beer from the store, I go for Circus Boy. Occasionally I'll go for their seasonal stuff if I'm feeling experimental. With Magic Hat, it all depends on my mood. Also, kinda like Snapple, they have neat sayings on the bottle caps. I like that.

2. Blue Moon. Nuff said.

If I can't get Magic Hat, I go for Blue Moon, and since it's more widely distributed than Magic Hat, I find myself drinking it a lot more. Oh, and they serve it with that nice orange wedge. I call that special.

3. Sam Adams - Cherry Wheat.

It's a miracle when you can find this stuff. I think they only sell it in Spring/Summer. So when I saw it on the shelf at the grocery store today, I had to get it. I just had to! The first time I had it was in Boston, which is the home of Sam Adams, and ever since I've been hooked. It's a little girly for a beer because of the whole cherry thing, but dammit, I'm a girl and so I'm allowed.

4. Kona Brewing Company - Longboard.

In Hawaii, Kona Brewing Company Beer is all over the place. In every bar. So, when I was there I acquired a love for it. The Longboard is their most famous flavor, aka: the best. I miss it, but luckily for me last summer when I was in Upstate New York with my cousin, we found it at the grocery store and I insisted we buy it. Like the Cherry Wheat, when I see it I consider it a small miracle and have to have it.

5. The Cheap Stuff.
Technically I'm still a college student and while I prefer the more pricey stuff, when I go to a party where getting drunk is the purpose - cheap stuff is the best. Basically, this is anything in the light catagory and usually comes in a can - or if your at a bar it is the cheapest crap they have on tap. Coors, Budweiser, Miller, etc, etc... When I lived in Hawaii, we were all about Coors Light. When I went to college in Vermont, or anytime I partied in Vermont on my breaks, it was Natural Light (aka Natties), or Keystone Light... sometimes Bud Light. Lots of light stuff. Cheap. Good for drinking games and getting really drunk. NYC is all about PBR, of course, this is where the hipsters have migrated and they love that stuff.
Though, now that I'm older, I would rather go for the more classy cheap beers like Heineken or Corona which actually come in bottles.

Boyfriend of the Week: Gerard Butler [Revisited]

2011-03-17T15:10:00.000-04:00

Last week I agreed to do a guest post for Angie, over at My So-Called Chaos. After a short discussion about what I should write, Angie essentially told me that I should utilize my strengths and go with something Boyfriend of the Week-esque. I thought about it for a day. Should I write a special boyfriend for the occasion? Should I talk about my experience with the Boyfriends? Or should I have Angie pick her favorite past boyfriend and just spruce him up a bit?
Finally, I decided on the later.
For a second I contemplated who she would pick.
This contemplation lasted for about five seconds.
I knew who is would be.
And my prediction was spot on...

Gerard Butler.

To be fair, she also chose Nathan Fillion, because she really couldn't make a decision (since all the boyfriends are amazing in their own way). I guess in the end it was me who chose Gerard, because I needed to vent about him. You see, my friends, while I once appreciated the comment love Gerard gave to me, I was teetering on the edge of resentment.
I couldn't believe that over a year after dedicating a week to him, he was still the favorite.
Why, oh why?!
What's so great about Gerard Butler?

So that was the question I sought to answer when I started writing my guest piece for Angie, and if you wanna check it out go on over to Angie's and find out how I resolved my issues, and made piece with Gerry.

Sleeping in Twin Beds with Boys

2011-03-11T09:55:00.001-05:00

My freshman year of college I had a boyfriend, and for the first time I learned that sharing a twin bed with someone is probably the worst sleeping arrangement decision one could possibly make. No matter how much you love that person, you will hate them by morning. I swear to GOD. So here's a little narrative, if you will, about the hellish experience for those of you who know, and for those of you who have never experienced it...

At first it's really great. You're cuddling. You're just the right temperature. You're in bliss.
Then you fall asleep.
You move around, he moves around. Suddenly you're too hot, and it wakes you up. That boy has become a fire. You need to get away from him. You need your own space. But there's no fucking room! You're pinned against him (the freaking furnace) and the wall.
You're a belly sleeper. You can't be really comfortable unless you're on your stomach. But when you're sharing a twin bed there is no room for that. Side sleeping only! Except you notice that he's got all the room he could want because somehow in the middle of all this that weasel managed to get on his back. So he's taking up that much more room! You have no other options except to either go back to resting on top of him, which is no longer comfortable, not to mention how god-awfully warm he is; or try to sleep on your side.

You try your side.

Your arm is going numb, so you flop back and forth a few times, but it's not working. You're not falling asleep. Now, you hate him a little for this, because when you're tired and someone you love is disturbing that peace - suddenly it's as if they are an annoying stranger on the subway.

You lay there on your arm for a little while more, coming up with a plan. If you're in his room, you could just leave. Who cares if it's the middle of the night! Not you. You need your proper, comfortable sleep, dammit!
But if you're in your room, well, you're in trouble.

Since you can't imagine going back to cuddling, that is out, and you clearly can't sleep on your side, so that's out too. All your options are gone. Except there is one difference: now your boyfriend is standing between you and lovely, lovely dreams, and you're angry about it, and you're desperate. So now you have new options.
Take all the blankets, all of them! and sleep on the floor; or brace yourself against the wall and push him out of the bed...maybe that will wake him up, he'll take the hint, and go back to his own room.

You go with the second one, and it is hilarious revenge! He flies off the bed onto the floor, and if you weren't pretending to be asleep you would have laughed and laughed and laughed.
But then he simply gets back into the bed. You're foiled, and even more angry because that bastard is obviously too lazy to go home.
So, in a huff, you step over him, shaking the whole bed, grabbing ALL the sheets and blankets and pillows, and make yourself comfortable on the floor. You know he's awake now and staring at you - completely confused, but you don't care, you're actually comfortable on the floor with all the blankets and pillows to protect you again the hard floor - not to mention it's cool down there...no boy furnace to make a hell of it.
Quickly, you slip into wonderful sleep.

The next morning you decide that you can't ever let that happen again, but despite your efforts of course it happens again because you like that boy, and it keeps happening until you either break-up or move out of the dorms to an apartment where you can have a much larger bed. But once you graduate to the large bed, you swear that you will never, ever, ever sleep in a twin bed with another person ever again.

Unless circumstances conspire against you...and you again find yourself in love with a boy in a twin bed.

Boyfriend of the Week: Joseph Gordon-Levitt

2011-03-10T15:52:00.000-05:00

I've had my eye on this boy since Angels in the Outfield. While I didn't know his name, I had a little girl crush on him, and like all little girl crushes, it was fleeting.

I didn't see this boy again until 10 Things I Hate About You. I mean, while I was obsessing over Heath Ledger, I had my eye on him too. After all, he played the cute, nerdy, kind boy Cameron who was head-over-heels in love with Bianca and did everything in his power to win her over. How adorable? What kind of girl wouldn't want a cute, affectionate guy like Joseph Gordon-Levitt to do everything in his power to be with you?
A girl I wouldn't want to be friends with, I can tell you that.

Anyway, after 10 Things I lost track of Joe for a long time until Stop-Loss where he played a soldier who just got back from Iraq. After seeing him a whole lot of comedic roles it was startling to see him in such a dramatic part. His character was pretty screwed up by the whole war. I don't want to give anything away, but his character makes some very damaging choice. So tragic.
Damn was Joe brilliant at it though...

Then I didn't see him again until 500 Days of Summer came out a couple years ago. Which I loved. If I had been Summer, I would have married Tom in a second. Dear God. He tried so hard. I guess I felt for Joe's character. I feel like I always fall in with guys who, when it all comes down to it, won't really commit...not completely. Everyone wants to be the person who can get someone to settle down, but honestly, if you have to work at it that hard - then that person isn't worth it. It should just happen, like how it happened to Summer with the guy after Tom. It's the hardest lesson, and that movie depicted it so well.

Moving on, I went to see Inception last summer, and I was sort of shocked to see Joe in it. I guess I hadn't picked up that he was in it. But daaaamn. He was kick ass! The whole scene when he's fighting off the projections and the whole building he's in is rotating because the van they're all in, in the other dream is flipping...HOLY CRAP! That was awesome. That had to be one of my favorite parts. Joe, kicking ass, in his sexy suit.
Mmmm. I could melt.

Finally, I've been watching a whooole lot of 3rd Rock From The Sun on Netflix, which Joe was in when he was younger. Oh my god is he adorable, and funny! Not to mention that his hair is on the long side throughout most of the show's run, and you guys know how I feel about long hair. Although the episode when they cut it all off he still looked sooo yummy.
Joe's probably one of the few to be an exception to my long hair rule. He's sexy no matter what his hair is doing. That's the kind of guy I need to get my hands on.
Yes, yes.

Oh and here's a picture just for the fun of it. Eye candy...

Hott.
Seriously...I want him.
[PS: There are still NO comments on last week's boyfriend. He is hurt. Go give him some love.]

A Writhing Shade: Notes

2011-03-07T11:52:00.001-05:00

Since I only got two comments on my story, I just want to take this moment to talk about my feelings about it, after I reread it and edited it a bit.

- While I read it through several times, I clearly missed some ridiculous grammatical/spelling errors, which is always very annoying. Oh well.

- I use the passive voice a few times. Generally the passive is when you use verbs in their "ing" form with was, had, have, had been, or have been in front of them. I hate the passive voice, but I felt like it was necessary. Maybe there is some way to avoid it in rewrites.

- The Matilda, Julian, and Grace sections need to have a different voice from each other. Julian is highly educated, and so the parts that come from his point of view need to show that difference. Also, Julian needs to speak differently from the way Matilda does. Everything about Julian needs to be tweeked. I think Matilda's part and voice are perfect. Grace's part needs to be rewritten altogether, because I hate it. So cliche.

- As it is, this story is 16 pages double-spaced. One page over my professor's limit. Admittedly, if I didn't have so much dialogue it would be a whole lot shorter, but I love the dialogue because it expresses more. So I guess I need to consolidate in some other way. Maybe use less of those one sentence paragraphs? I don't know.

- I absolutely hate the ending, and I especially can't stand Grace's last line. Trite much? Jesus, I don't know what I was thinking letting her say that. I mean, I can hear the corny horror movie music. It's so awful. Maybe I should just that whole part and leave the readers wondering what happened.
- I'm thinking that I need to explain more about what happens to Matilda and Julian, but I don't have the space, and I didn't know how to do it without descending out of the mystery and into a strange horror/sci-fi realm.

I guess it's hard for me to separate myself from this. I know what happens between the lines, you know? I know what's going on, but the reader doesn't - they only have these strange clues that some thing more than a suicide happened. Did you guys pick up on it?
What did you guys think of it as a whole?
Who am I kidding... you probably haven't/won't read it. I am clearly talking to myself.

Now for the random symbolism factoids. This is the fun part!
- As it turns out there actually is a Corinth, Vermont, which I didn't know about until two seconds ago, when I Googled it. It's not two hours from Burlington, and it doesn't have a single lake. So I might have to change that, but what I was going for was this: The Greek story of Medea. Medea was a witch and the wife of Jason, the great Greek hero. They had some children together, but I guess their marriage wasn't legal or something because one day Jason up and leaves Medea to marry the daughter of the King of Corinth. Her name is Glauce. Medea ends up killing her children, Glauce, and the King, leaving Jason with nothing. Do you see the trend? That's right, all the characters' names start with the same letter. Matilda = Medea, Julian = Jason, and Grace = Glauce. Like what I did there? Sure, the story doesn't quite turn out the same, but that's okay.

- Almost all the character's names coordinate with characters in Percy Bysshe Shelley's work, Mary Shelley's work, or actual people in their lives. Matilda comes from a translation Shelley did from Dante's Purgatorio [Canto 28, lines 1-51] called "Matilda Gathering Flowers." Mary Shelley also wrote a novella named Mathilda, which wasn't published until long after her death. Julian comes from Shelley's poem, "Julian and Maddalo," which is about he and Byron. Shelley was Julian, Byron was Maddalo. Julian's last name, Henry, I took from the poem called "The Drowned Lover" from Shelley's novel, St. Irvyne. Matilda's friend and Julian's sister, Emily, comes from a name in a couple of Shelley's poems, most importantly, "Epipsychidion." Detective Williams is named after Shelley's friend, Edward Ellerker Williams, who drowned with Shelley on July 8, 1822. The guy who finds Matilda's body, Trelawny, is named after Edward Trelawny, another friend of Shelley's, who actually identified Shelley's body when it washed up a few days after the accident. And finally there is Noel, who I named after Lord Byron, who took the name Noel as a stipulation in his mother-in-law's will, which required him to take her surname in order to inherit her money. So for the last few years of his life he signed his name Noel Byron.

- Grace is the only one whose name has no significant meaning.

- The line Matilda says in Julian's dream, "Sei soddisfatto?" is Italian, which Shelley was nearly fluent in. It also alludes to what Shelley's doppelganger said to him before he died, "How long do you mean to be content?" According to a biography I'm reading, the doppelganger actually spoke in Italian and said, "Shelley, siete soddisfato?" Which the author said means, "Shelley, are you satisfied?" But when I put it through a translator it said something different. (Now, of course, the translator has changed its mind and it says it correctly. Whatever.) Shelley translated it into the whole content thing when he spoke to Mary about it.

- Also, the whole "Are you content?" thing alludes to Goethe's Faust, who was immortal until he got to a moment he wanted to live in forever (ie. he was immortal until he found complete and sincere contentment).

- According to some myths about the water spirit called Nixes are omens for drowning accidents. They scream in the area where someone is going to drown, and their call/scream sounds like a loon.

-Finally, this story is based on the circumstances in which Shelley and his first wife, Harriet, died. Both drowned. She, who was pregnant, supposedly drowned herself. It is unclear is the baby was another man's or Shelley's. And Shelley drowned in a boating accident six years later. According to most records, it is believed that the boat was suddenly hit by storm. Some damage was sustained, and the boat sank. Shelley couldn't swim.

I've never slipped so many secret little trivia allusions/symbols in to a story before. I really like it, and I hope someone in my class picks up on it. If not, I'll have to ask them.
I am so nervous for tomorrow! I hope they don't rip it apart.

A Writhing Shade: Part Three

2011-03-06T12:00:00.002-05:00

[The third and final part of my story, continued from Friday (Part One) and Saturday (Part Two). I'm not very happy with the way this ended. But maybe, upon rewriting, I can fix the horror cliche-ness of it. You guys have a little background on there story, which my classmates don't have. So I would be open to suggestions.]

A Writhing Shade

(Part Three)

“I hate this house,” Grace whined as she unstrapped Noel from his car seat, and set him on her hip. The one-year-old grinned as a butterfly flew around his face.

“Matilda didn’t die in the house, Grace,” Julian snapped as he pulled the lugged out from the trunk, sick of this over exhausted argument. “And that was six years ago. It’s a beautiful house, on a beautiful lake, and I won’t let it sit up here and rot away because you’re afraid of ghosts.”

“She drowned in that lake.”

“I know, but I refuse to let that fact ruin this place. Besides, my sister and her family have stayed here a couple times since then and she assures me there is nothing to fear. Matilda is resting in peace.”

Grace hugged the toddler in her arms a little closer and kissed him on the head. They’d been pretty unlucky in the baby department since they were married five years before. A couple miscarriages, and baby that died a couple days after it was born. The pain of these losses had worn on the couple. For two people who were so similar, they couldn’t have handled the pain more differently, and it created an insurmountable rift between the two. The easy birth and good health of Noel was starting to repair it, but it was slow.

* * *

Julian had fallen asleep at his computer, and woke abruptly to the sound of Noel screaming in his crib. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog, hoping maybe Grace would handle it if he waited just a few more seconds.

When the crying continued, Julian finally gave in with a groan. He stood up slowly and stretched. But just as he got to the door of the study, the crying stopped. He could hear Grace humming…no…singing.

Grace couldn’t sing to save her life, but for some reason – maybe it was his exhausted mind, or her tired voice – whatever the case, she sounded unusually good tonight. It made him smile, and he couldn’t help but walk up to Noel’s bedroom anyway, just to take a peak at his wife performing her magic.

Halfway up the stairs Julian realized that he was following a set of wet footprints, and something inside him jolted for a moment, as if the breath had been knocked right out of him.

He ran the rest of the way up.

That voice was not Grace’s.

When he rounded the corner into Noel’s bedroom, there was a woman setting his son back down in his crib.

“Matilda,” he gasped.

She looked up and smiled. “Shhh,” she whispered, putting one finger up to her blue lips.

She made one last adjustment to Noel, and then came around the crib towards Julian.

Unconsciously, Julian backed away from her. She looked like the corpse he had to identify all those years ago. Her skin was deathly pale and soaking wet from head to toe. In fact, she was still dripping water all over the place, as if she had just walked out of the lake.

The only thing he hadn’t seen at the morgue that night were her eyes. They’d been obviously been closed at the time, but now they were wide open. In life, Matilda had small eyes, which had completely suited her face, but in death those eyes had become large, making her even more striking than she had ever been alive. And they were still the brightest blue.

His heart ached.

He found himself in the hallway – he had backed up so far.

Matilda closed the door to Noel’s and just stood there against the door, staring at him.

Julian didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand what was happening. How could this be happening?

Far out on the lake a loon called.

Matilda took a few more steps towards him. He couldn’t move this time. Her large pregnant stomach bumped up against him as she put one hand on the back of his neck and hugged him close to her.

She was like ice to touch.

He shuddered.

She put her lips up to his ear and whispered, “Sei soddisfatto?”

Julian pulled away from her abruptly, “What did you say?” he demanded.

“Are you satisfied?” she replied.

“I don’t understand.”

Matilda smiled, “You will.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frustrated.

“Wake up. Julian.”

She took him by the shoulders and shook him. “Wake up!” But it wasn’t her voice coming out of her mouth, it was Grace’s.

Julian sat up. He was still at his desk. Grace was shaking him. It was light outside.

“I can’t believe you slept the whole night here,” she said.

“I had the weirdest dream,” he replied, mid-yawn. “So creepy.”

“Oh yeah, what was it about?”

“All your talk about Matilda…”

Grace laughed triumphantly, “Ah ha! See. I told you.”

“Yeah right, it’s just all your damn yammering. It got stuck in my brain.”

“Psh, whatever helps you sleep at night…oh, by the way, thanks for getting Noel last night. I was so beat.”

“What?”

“Noel. He was screaming like a banshee. I heard you come up the stairs, and he stopped crying.”

Julian nearly choked on his own spit.

“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.

“Nothing, I just didn’t remember it at first.”

“Well, thanks,” she replied, smiling, and walked out into the kitchen to make breakfast.

A chill passed over Julian, and he couldn’t quite shake it for the rest of the day despite the beautiful weather.

* * *

“I’m taking the canoe out,” Julian told Grace.

“Why?”

“I need some inspiration. I need air. I need to float in the middle of the lake and let my imagination run wild.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you going out there alone.”

“Grace, it’s a small lake. I probably won’t even be able to get out of sight of the house. Alright? You can sit on the dock and watch me, if that will make you feel better.”

“Do what you want,” she sighed. “I’m just being silly.”

“Ah, but that’s why I love you,” Julian smirked, and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

* * *

Julian woke up at the bottom of the canoe. He had fallen asleep while drifting aimlessly, watching the clouds roll by. The sun had just disappeared behind the mountains only a minute before. The chill must have woken him.

He sat up.

The boat had drifted all the way out to the barren beach on the other side of the lake. Grace is going to flip. I’ve been out here for hours.

He got up out of the boat and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Three missed calls.

“Shit.”

Of course there was no reception out here. After all, not only was he in Vermont, but middle of bumfuck nowhere Vermont. But he still walked up and down the small beach, lifting his phone in the air, praying he would pick up a bar if he could only find the right spot.

It was getting dark fast.

Julian knew he should just get in the boat and start rowing. The lake really wasn’t that big, and he thought he knew where he was.

A loon called.

Julian walked back to the canoe.

Mean, black, and heavy rain clouds were rolling in – fast.

* * *

“Mrs. Henry?”

Grace looked up from the table where she had been resting her head, “Yes?”

“We found the boat…”

“What about Julian?”

“We found him too.”

Grace jumped up from her chair, a light lit up in her eyes, “Where is he?! Is he okay?! What happened?!”

“It’s not good Mrs. Henry.”

“What do you mean Detective?”

Williams shook his head.

“You’re not saying – no – he’s not dead.”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Henry.

“Oh my God,” she gasped as she collapsed back into her seat. “Oh my God! She took him!”

[The End]

A Writhing Shade: Part Two

2011-03-05T12:00:00.001-05:00

[Continued from yesterday...]

A Writhing Shade

(Part Two)

“What can I do for you Mr. Henry?”

“My wife is missing.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure exactly. You know that we’re in the process of getting divorced, right?”

“Oh yeah? Rough stuff.”

“Well I went to go see her the other day because I was in town and my parents said she wasn’t dealing with it very well. I thought I would clear the air, you know?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She didn’t seem right, but of course I would be the last person she would talk to.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, the night after I saw her, she sent me a very weird email.

“What did it say?”

“I can print it out for you if your want? But basically it was all really sad, and while she didn’t say she was going to do anything to herself, I have this terrible feeling it was her last goodbye.”

“Go on.”

“Then, my lawyer called to tell me that the courier he sent out to her house to drop off some paperwork came back with all the papers still in hand, because Matilda didn’t come to the door to sign for them. So I tried to call her, and of course she didn’t pick up, but I didn’t really expect her to after how things ended.”

“You’re on bad terms?”

“She’s just very hurt by all of it, you know? Who wouldn’t? I don’t blame her for hating me a little.”

“Of course.

“Anyway, I decided to go over there again because I was getting worried. The door wasn’t locked, so I went inside, calling for her and there wasn’t any answer. I looked all over the house and she wasn’t anywhere. I went outside and went to all her favorite spots. I couldn’t find her.”

“Could she have gone into town?”

“No, her car was still there.”

“Maybe a friend picked her up?”

“I don’t think so. None of her friends have seen her. I called them.”

“Maybe someone you don’t know?”

“No I would know.”

“Okay, when was the last time you saw her?”

“Two days ago. Wednesday, but I got the email from her at about 3AM on Thursday.”

“Alright Mr. Henry, we’re going to get some people on this. I know that she’s pregnant, so this is a matter of two lives here.”

“Thank you Detective.”

* * *

Julian woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing on the nightstand. Grace didn’t even stir beside him. How he envied her easy sleep. She could fall asleep just about anywhere, and she could easily nap for three-hours straight and still be asleep by 1AM every night.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Mr. Henry?”

“Yes?”

“This is Detective Williams.”

“Oh hey.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” the man on the other end of the phone took a deep breath. “We found a body.”

Julian sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What?” he choked.

“The body matches Matilda’s description, but since you’re still legally her husband you’re going to have to come down to the morgue to identify her for sure.”

“Of course, of course, right…I’ll be down there as soon as possible.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

He clicked the red button the phone to end the call and set it down on the bed beside him. For a moment he just sat there, staring into the darkness. Then he brought his hands up to his face and started whispering, “oh my god,” over and over again.

* * *

He stood in the morgue with Detective Williams and a medical examiner, whose name Julian simply couldn’t recall, despite being introduced only minutes before.

In front of him laid a body so freshly pulled off the scene that it hadn’t even been removed from the body bag – still on the gurney they’d used to transport it. He was almost thankful for that. The bag hid the contours of the body much better than a sheet would. Anyone could be under there.

His eyes were swollen red. He couldn’t wake Grace to help him deal with this, so he’d left her asleep at home. How he envied her.

Mr. and Mrs. Henry, Julian’ parents, were standing outside in the hallway.

“Are you ready?” Detective Williams asked.

Julian nodded, and the medical examiner unzipped the bag just enough to expose the face.

It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart. He folded in on himself, clutching at his chest, “Oh god,” he moaned. “It’s her.”

There was no doubt in his mind.

He straightened up and looked at her face again.

Her lips were blue and she was horrifically pale. It had always seemed like she was blushing around him. He had never seen her without a tinge of red on her face. To see her that pale…she had to be dead.

Her hair was wet.

“Where did you find her?” he asked.

“Eddie Trelawny called us, she was floating in the water out by his diving raft. Which isn’t all that far from her place,” Williams explained.

“What do you think happened?”

“Well nothing is definite yet, but there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of foul play, and then there are the emails she sent you, and her parents. All evidence points toward suicide.”

“What are you saying?”

“She drowned herself.”

“That’s ridiculous. How does someone drown themselves?”

“She swam out far,” the medical examiner jumped in, “too far to get back without some effort. Then she treaded water for a while, and when she got tired she couldn’t get back to shore. So she just…”

“Oh god, Matilda,” Julian groaned, imagining the whole terrible event.

“Do you want me to get your parents?” Williams asked.

“No, not yet. I want to see all of her.”

“Mr. Henry, I don’t think – “

“Please!”

Detective Williams nodded to the Examiner, and he unzipped the whole bag.

She was still soaked from the lake. Her white nightgown clung to her. Beside her paleness and blue lips, there was no sign of death. Decomposition hadn’t set in yet. She was still so pretty.

And there was her stomach.

The baby.

Lost with her.

“Matilda, how could you,” he whispered.

The longer he stared at her, the more distraught he became. His mind was going wild. Finally, unable to bear the scene any longer, he asked the medical examiner to cover her up, and walked out to face his parents. He knew they would blame him. He knew everyone would blame him.

* * *

[The last part will be posted tomorrow. Remember: NO STEALING! This is my intellectual property.]