Where the hell are you?

You've been mia since I talked to you last week. As Kelly would say, What the hell??

Anyways, this weekend I made it a point to not mope around the house like the last one, so instead I went the exact opposite direction and stayed out until after 4 am both nights, like the drunken fool I truly am. Let's just say the activities involved a lot of substance abuse and were rated somewhere around PG-13. I haven't smoked a cigarette since college, I think, and now I remember why... between that, the hookah, and some homemade absinthe, my mouth tasted a little like I would imagine a dumpster to taste. However, I did manage to convince a dude to make me brownies (with walnuts!) at 3 am on Friday night and I'm pretty sure I've gotten the post-heartbreak-wild-child-ness out of my system for a while. Now I can safely go back to hanging around the apartment with my Blockbuster Home Delivery and HBO On Demand and not feel like I'm missing anything, other than waking up at 1 in the afternoon feeling like a jackass.

Broken English is finally out on DVD! Carrie and I have watched it twice in the past 24 hours. Ah, my heart... Julian...

xoxoxoBon

Idea: Let's dig up some old journals!

The other night I was going through all my boxes of art supplies, trying to feel inspired, when I came across an old drawing journal from when I was, like, 19, and had to draw/write random crap daily for Art 120, and spent most of my time wondering if my teacher would even look at the whole thing, and if he did, would I fail whatever cruel test required students to draw constantly, even when they were completely uninspired?

And I found this gem, under a picture of my foot:

November 28, 2002
today we had some turkey and french wine and lots of other really good food. i do not feel at all bad for the turkey or vegetables. we gave them a good home in our stomaches.

this, unfortunately, was the highlight of the journal, unless you count the series I drew of my hand in various positions, which were quite good- but here I am, 5 years later, thinking I should have drawn my hand doing sillier things than holding a book or clenching my fist. it would have been funnier if I was, say, stirring a drink with my cellphone antenna (which I used to do quite often), or pulling someone's hair, or even picking my nose. maybe if I had been picking my nose more often, I would have found love (O Tell Me the Truth About Love!). now I can't pick my nose! what will become of me? I'll have to ride more buses and hope people step on my feet.

tangent. want turkey. signing off now.
xoxoxoBon

Good things come to those who read

You know (as mostly everyone else in my life does) that I've been feeling a little down lately. Scratch that, I've been feeling a lot down. But, despite the fact that the world is a sad sad place, and life pretty much sucks, and all that, I know that it is high time that I get my sorry ass the hell up off the kitchen floor (figuratively, of course- most of the time) and quit feeling sorry for myself. I also know that in 24 years, despite the fact that I have had some extreme lows, I have been handed an arsenal of things that are proven (through my extreme highs) to kick the shit out of my sadness and make me realize how insignificant all this truly is. In a good way. So, I go through my list, piece by piece, hoping that these tried-and-true measures (writing, painting, running, playing with the kids, etc.) will get me through it, yet again. And I try lots of not so great measures (drinking profusely, crying profusely, um... yeah. not proud of my bad habits. but honest.) And, actually, even though from a rational standpoint, I know I should be able to boost myself, I really can't. I have been having a really hard time.

So, despite my skepticism, I picked up Katie's copy of The Secret a couple days ago. And as a purely scientific experiment (cause hell, what have I got to lose?) I tried the whole "law of attraction" positive-thinking thing out for a night. And, it could just be that I am the kind of person who looks for a sign in EVERYTHING, or it could be that it actually worked.

At any rate, I went to the Kate Nash show by myself, which I knew I had to do- not only because I really really like Kate Nash lately, but because I know it's good for me to do things by myself, to foster my independence. I went, and it turned out that there was no longer a $15 cover- it was free because Kate didn't get her US work visa in time (she's a Brit) and couldn't charge. Which is unlucky for her (though who really cares, she's got a major record label behind her), but seemed to be my reward for trying to be positive and doing something with myself besides going home with a bottle of wine. So, I'm staking out a spot at the bar, getting my personal groove on, and the bartender accidentally pours a Guinnesse for someone- oops, all the sudden it's mine!

Now maybe some people might not take a free concert and one lousy beer as a sign, but you know that I'm actually a big hippie at heart, so I will admit that it was a huge boost to my faltering emotional balance. Maybe that sounds sad, but you gotta take away what you can from situations, you know?

So I'm taking this. I'm going back to my original "everything happens for a reason" outlook on life, because that is the one thing that makes it possible for me to get out of bed in the morning. But I'm going to try really hard to stop crying over not knowing the reasons, and focus instead on the fact that I'm alive, and I can revel in a concert even alone, and I can at the very least try to control my destiny. If not my destiny, then my emotions. If not my emotions, then the most superficial of all things, the way I choose to interact with the rest of the world.

I don't know if I believe any of that The Secret crap. It's a bit much for even a self proclaimed hippie to stomach. But I do know one thing- that anything that can get me out of my own head, keep me from being locked in my misery, well- that can't be bad.

I hope you're feeling better. I think I am.
xoxoxoBon

Elmo is my Copilot

For the first time in over two years, I have cable! And I'm watching....

Sesame Street.

wtf?

I wish life weren't so... Sad

I don't really have anything profound to say, as you probably realized after reading the title of this post. Life is sad. We realized it when our grandparents died, when someone broke our hearts, when we witnessed major mental breakdowns and when our dreams didn't come true. And it will keep happening. Because life is sad. Because the world is sad. And it makes me sad.

No wonder artists have been trying for thousands of years to make it better, brighter, more bearable- it makes sense that the most talented are truly tortured souls, if not tortured then how would they have enough courage to try so hard to change this despair?

I want more than courage. I want power. I want a means to lighten the load. I want... I want... I want to not be sad. But more than that, I want the truly desperate to be a little less desperate, a little happier, just a little.

I know this is making about as much sense as, hell, I don't know, a freaking leprechaun. I've been drinking. Which probably accounts for the leprechaun comment. I'm just sad. Just sad. That's all, nothing so very new. Just wishing I could be a little more useful.

I should put away the alcohol and go to bed. I've got a conference skype at 8:30 and a skype-date with you after (yippee! the only thought that truly brings me joy this week!). Maybe in the meantime, you could just pray for me... and everyone else who is sad, too.

xoxoxoBon

If I Could Bottle This

It would be green and amber and smell like dried leaves and baby cheeks. If I could bottle this, this most perfect autumn day, I could take it out and uncork it when I'm feeling weak and weepy, and it would be magical. It is magical.

Sitting at a picnic table in the sunlight filtered through the turning leaves, arms outstretched on the warm wood, only myself and Angela and the two blond babies we love, we weren't in New York City anymore. We were alone in this park, in this place, in this magical land of September. I thought about the delicate balance I always try to keep my life in, this delicate balance of happiness and hard work and a little melancholy, trying all the time to keep myself in "a good place," whatever that actually means. When I'm finally in a good place, it's so good- even if it's not happiness, particularly, it becomes happiness- because I'm content, and it's alright, and it's right. And when something happens that throws off the delicate balance and I'm no longer in that place, that beautiful, fragile emotional state, it is so damn hard to get it back.

Things like September and sunlight and the colors when I close my eyes, and the music when I lay my head down, these are the things I know can bring me back to my place, bring me back to me. I just have to keep finding them, and recognizing them, and cherishing them as long as they last, however long or short that may be. I have to keep being blessed by them, and knowing my blessings. I have to keep trusting, no matter how hard or scary it is, that I will be blessed again. I will. It is my destiny to appreciate the tiny, wonderful things in this world more and more, until not a day goes by that I don't feel amazed or in awe. We should all be this way- in awe of all that is around, because while there is a lot of ugliness in this life, there is far more beauty. Sometimes it's fleeting. Sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's scary as hell. But none of it should be taken for granted.

These moments- this is what makes my strange, confusing, lost little life make sense. Every once in a while, it starts to make sense.

xoxoxoxoBon

Wherein Jump Little Children simultaneously ruins and redeems my entire Life

Matthew Bivins, you cruel cruel tease! I can't help but hate to love you! Even when you've been long gone from my sitelines, you somehow manage to break my heart still... I had found a fellow lover of his sexy ambiguity, his hot pink guitar, his unpretentiously grandiose stage presence. After reminiscing about this band that epitomized my formative years, and epitomizes these years after, still, we cackled for many hours and I fell hard and fast and thought nothing more than "I'm in trouble!" and nothing less than "how lovely, our glasses match!" And I owe it all to those super-humans we know as Jump, this lovely hippie-dippie theory that music always brings the right people together!

oh boy. In trouble indeed. In a world of manic, weepy, sleepless, JLC-induced trouble. Nothing else to do but listen to Between the Dim & the Dark album and reread my stupid journals, wondering where it all went horribly awry. Matthew Bivins, where are you now? You rocked my world! You gave me the soundtrack to both my joys and sorrows! You led me to a fellow fan and then you left me feeling more icky and miserable than I have ever felt before!

I might have to replace you, Matt, as my go-to guy for these rollercoaster-y emotional wreckage-y times. You have led me astray. But I could never leave you now... one day you and your pink guitar might just show up downtown, right? Benjamin Apple saw one of you wandering around in Union Square last December- you must be around here somewhere, sometime. Until then, tell me you love your guitar and put me out of my misery.

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- this cool new hat I'm wearing? yeah, it's cause I haven't showered since Saturday night and my hair looks like shit. don't tell anyone.

Wherein pictures try to make up for the fact that I've been neglecting you lately

This is from my first night out in Lyon. Elizabeth is a fellow American, and it was her 21st. Because I was the only one who understood the full significance of this, I made her do shots. This was the prettiest, but apparently it tasted like mouthwash.








This is the Cathedrale St. Jean, in Vieux Lyon (the old city). I haven't been inside yet, but I think it's very nice even with the scaffolding. The day this was taken there was an art fair in the place with lots of pottery and sculptures. There was also tons of awesome food (like real Belgian waffles) and a rather crappy band which played Hava Nagilah.













There was also this guy. Yes, he is dressed up as a penis. Priya and I couldn't even keep our eyes open, we were laughing so hard.

Evidently in France there is a tradition called "Enterrement du jeune fils", whereby all men about to get married have to get dressed up and embarrassed by their friends in public. Clearly, it takes on a sexual tone (as another friend had the pleasure of being serenaded by someone in a bee costume singing out the rigidity of a certain body part).

This has definitely been my favorite picture so far.







This is the club we went to last weekend. I suppose they thought they should translate "route" to English, despite the fact that it is also an English word. The whole decor of the place was "American", right down the Bud Lite signs, and they even had most of an airplane hanging from the ceiling, which was rather cool. The music, of course, sucked for most of the night, but we danced anyway.





After all, we had to teach them Europeans how to! You really can't tell from photos, but I'm sure you remember how bad the dancing was in Italy. This guy was from Strasbourg, and he was obsessed with Frances (whom you cannot see since she didn't want evidence that any of this had taken place). You might think he looks like a toolbag now, in that knitted sweater vest, and you'd be right -- but only partially. You see, this rare breed of loser was also wearing -- and I am not kidding you -- a black, lacy thong. He hiked up his vest many times that night just to show us how high the thong sat on his waist.

And he claimed to be straight.

It was really the most disturbing part of the night, except for perhaps this next picture...



...wherein "non-gay" dudes grind with each other on a large speaker, and other questionably-real dudes dance with spaghetti arms galore and perhaps some cases of St. Vitus' dance thrown in for good measure.

You really had to see it to believe it.














Meanwhile, I got likkerred up enough to get up on the speaker and dance myself (at this point, they were playing Shakira, Sean Paul and some old Beyonce, so I could justify it in saying that it wasn't bad techno). The short guy is Rami, a kiwi of indeterminate sexuality but who was actually quite a good dancer and really fun to have around for that essential male presence. I don't think I'm a very good dancer (Lisa will tell you I suck) but I can say with good conscience that I was much better than any of those French girls, whose idea of rhythm was little more than the feet-apart, feet-together kind of thing we did in middle school. Ugh.


Just to wrap up, a picture of me and Priya. She lives downstairs from me and we met on the first day of orientation. I pretty much live at her place half the time now too, since it's cozier and she doesn't have a roommate. Also, she cooks some of the best Indian food ever, and you know how I am about that. She's even invited me to London in November to celebrate Diwali -- I can't wait! It's nice to have a great friend here, even if she's leaving in January to go to Valencia.




And that, my dear, is a wrap. At least till next week. The pictures, I'm sure, will keep coming. This place is amazing, and the only thing that would make it better is, of course, your presence. So think about that visit!

xxxAnnie

Skype Me, Baby!

yeah, baby, yeah! skype me!

bsharpe77 (how original, I know)... what the hell is yours??

I miss you alot, still. which is really funny to me, since you know, I loved you before you lived here and all (well, geez- you're my sister!) but I hadn't lived with any of y'all since high school so I kind of had no idea we'd become best friends when you moved in. god I sound like a cheeseball.

my point is this- I miss telling you all my dumb stories and even the not so dumb ones I just don't want to tell anyone else. so please, please become available to me again, in some capacity!

also I can't just use Skype to deal with the crazy Italians working on my latest project, I need to be able to have a little fun too :)

xoxoxoBon
ps- what is your address?? I haf somesing for youuuu!

In the Wile-derness

Last weekend the roommates and I went camping on Fire Island, which was probably the best idea we have had all summer. We were only there a little over 24 hours, but I have many funny stories anyways- not the least of which involved me racing through the dark dunes to retrieve a stick (just call me Peaches!) and stomping hard on a large stump of some sort, ripping the bottom of my foot apart and totally BITING IT in the sand. I mean, girl- I had a mouthful. We had the good fortune to meet these two Ecuadorian guys who led us to "the wilderness" (pronounced wile-der-ness)- where we could camp in the dunes for free, away from pretty much all civilization. We were even farther down the beach into the wilderness than the stark-naked sunbather man. We taught the Ecuadorians how to play Mad Libs (adult version of course) and Truth or Dare (which ended up being the adult version as well, ha!). We ate tuna and listened to trippy foreign music on Pedro's "soundsystem." We had a fuckin good time.

Tell me French stories! I know you've got em!

xoxoxoBon
ps- I went on the best date of my life last night. I say this in all seriousness- when I go on a good date, it's no joking matter. This one was good. He is the funniest person I have ever met. He knows/likes JLC. He's southern. And he wears glasses. I just might be in love. Keep your fingers crossed hard- you know my track record.

Kids say the darndest things!

well, they do! but- you thought this was going to be a post about the latest Maddi-ism? no way. that kid is hilarious, but today is all about me. actually it's not... I've worked everyday this week (just like all the other regular adults out there, how terribly depressing!) and I haven't got enough "me time" (remember that from camp? that hour in the afternoon where we were supposed to write letters and read books but was really just an excuse for the counselors to take a nap or a quick shot of whiskey?). anyhow, I have missed yoga, and my sanity! sort of. being with the kids is great, it's just being with the kids all day and then coming home to stare at InDesign on my computer screen for 4 more hours that is not so great on the brain, or the eyeballs.

my point is this (and you thought I didn't have one! you were probably right.) I have such a bad habit of saying dumb things to strangers! I went to this opening at a gallery last night, where Michael's new, cute, sweet, southern! boyfriend works, and the art was amazing (the wine wasn't half bad either, teehee!) Brent introduced me to the artist, and I opened with a typical "nice to meet you, your show is great, your art is fantastic!" or some reasonable facsimile of that. he thanked me for coming, wherein I promptly thanked him for.... painting. how dumb is that? so dumb, in fact, that I immediately blurted out "wow that sounded really dumb," as if he couldn't decide that for himself. I always do this though, I go and say something inane and then I immediately point out how dumb I sounded, making myself sound even dumber. dumb and dumber. geez.

well, regardless, the show was super cool- the artist did these absolutely mesmerizing paintings on geometrical blocks of wood that basically gave you this incredible "magic eye" sense of perspective, but kind of backwards- like your eye would see something receding but that corner would actually be painted on a protruding block of wood. it was super trippy- god help the poor soul who came to that show on drugs! unfortunately, the cheapest work was in the low 5-figures (as if the word "low" can even go in the same sentance as "5-figures") the highest price tag? I think somewhere around $80,000. the artist was this old, eccentric gay man in a white suit who probably only tolerated talking to me at all because Brent had sold so much of his work, but I was "art-struck" anyways.

I don't have much else to report, I have been working lots and feel like there's so much on my plate! but it's a good thing, because I am one million times happier right now than I was a year ago. though I do miss you so! oh and I went out for good Thai with that guy- the food was fantastic but I smelled crazy all over him! it was fun though- afterwards I met Carolina in Brooklyn for an electro-rock show thing that was wildly amusing and the venue even played hip hop and old Motown in between acts so I could shake it for a bit. damn does shakin it feel good! I also shook it the next night on the Ryan Montbleau booze cruise (yippee!) and the night after at Water Taxi Beach (shoes off, sand on). who knew you could have so much fun not going anywhere for Labor Day?

I was going to ask you how yours was, but then I realized that it wasn't Labor Day in France. c'est la vie... I'm sure things are going swimmingly for you anyways and I can't wait to hear all about your terribly exciting adventures!

xoxoxoBon

Bonjour de France!

First off, may I just say that everything associated with Google is in French -- including this blog. How funny! Just typing something into my Google toolbar takes me straight to google.fr. Only one of many culture quirks (no shocks yet) which has come up.

Obviously, I am now in la belle France. I think I sent you a hasty email yesterday, but that was before the man at the cybercafe sold me an Internet cable and I could log on from the privacy and convenience of my own laptop.

So yeah -- that's what happened. Here's what else happened, in as Campbell's Soup-y format as I can:

I got on the plane in Philly and waited an hour on the runway to leave.
I didn't sleep at all on the plane, and was also extremely bored for about 1/3 of the time, as my little television was broken and the flight crew took about 2 hours to fix it.
I got to the TGV station at Charles de Gaulle about 40 minutes later than I'd hoped, and found out that the next train to Lyon was at 1 p.m. -- which would mean missing my deadline of 3 p.m. at my apartment building.
I opted to take a train at noon from Paris -- so I had to ride the metro into the city, switch trains and then wait around for an hour at the Gare de Lyon.
I got on my train, sort-of enjoyed the 2-hour ride (I was feeling nervous about making it on time) and got off in Lyon.
I got a taxi (no dispatcher!) and it took about 30 minutes to get to my place from the train station, partly because the tunnel we needed to take was closed.
The taxi charged for lifting my bags in and out of the trunk, so I only tipped him a euro. :( I did not feel that bad, although he was an old man and he did listen to Frank.
I rang the bell at my apartment -- no answer. Again -- no answer. This went on for three minutes, as I panicked and tried to think of what I could do -- until someone came out and I got in that way.
I met a New Zealander named Fergus, who told me that the landlord was showing someone their room. I waited and the landlord came back -- he seemed as stressed as me, although at least he'd slept the night before.
I got my keys -- but only after finding out that I need a French bank account, cash for this month's rent and taxes and some piece of paper from the university ASAP.
I came in, sighed with relief, and got down to business -- out to the Monoprix to get toilet paper, etc. and to the cybercafe to tell everyone I was okay. Thank goodness they sold me an Internet cable, because otherwise I'd be screwed -- I can't figure out French keyboards and couldn't log into my UNC email account. Oy.
I ate some chips, Cheerios (so expensive! But the other cereals looked like crap) and a bottle of jus d'orange (just 50 cents at ED, the discount grocery store!), took a bath (weird bathtub with shower-on-a-cord thingy), poked around online, and then went to bed at 8 -- and I only woke up at noon! Lovely.

Then today I went downtown (over the rivers? Under them, at least) to the Manufacture des Tabacs (I guess they once packaged cigarettes or something here), where the university is located. I didn't find it, but I did find a Franprix! So I stocked up on needed items like juice, cookies, tapenade and some of those cute pre-packaged salads (like tabbouleh -- yum!). Some teenagers outside the metro tried to bother me for money, but I put on my meanest New York blank stare and walked on by. The metro is so cool! It's very short, but the cars are nearly all window, so I could look straight out the front or the back! They also have weird butt-seats to lean onto (but too high to sit on), in addition to regular seats -- and no poles or straps but the occasional waist-high pole thing (not very useful, I'd think). I also never had to wait more than a minute for a train (although, granted, I only rode twice today).

Tonight I'm going out for dinner/drinks with Fergus, the New Zealander, and some other international students. I am sort of nervous (my French really is not that good), but I am also excited. I like my new hood (I'll send pics when I can), it's kind of Queens-like in the sense that there are no shady vagrants and the park is a bit run-down and there are a lot of interesting little shops about (like the afro-americaine beauty parlor down the block) and it's not snooty like perhaps the center-city would be. My apartment is really small (bedroom, living room, bathroom) and my roomie hasn't moved in yet -- I imagine it will seem even smaller when she does. But it is home, and it has a balcony (right over a busy street -- reminds me of Astoria!!), and I like it. :)

I miss you and the fam and Sunjay like crazy, but I am excited to start my year here! It will be even more exciting when you come -- though my bed is so narrow, you may have to just take the floor. Or the balcony! Hee hee. I love you -- hope the Thai date went well and the guy's not a lunatic!

xxxAnnie