paper root

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (So Far)

2012-01-25T23:00:00.006-05:00

10 thoughts for today

+1: My dog is really wonderful. No really, she is. I’ve just spent the night recovering from a week and a half spent house and dog sitting for my friend. I say recovering because her dog, while adorable, weighs roughly as much as I do and is a menace to society. Case in point: I left a box of oatmeal flakes on the top of the refrigerator (like a real refrigerator, not one of those tiny dorm ones) and when I came back from my 5 minute shower they were gone. Not just the flakes themselves but also the bag and box they came in. Where they went is anyone’s guess, but 36 hours of explosive diarrhea points to the dog’s stomach.

+2: After acquiring a laser pointer, I was able to spend most of my free time simultaneously running the dog around the apartment and catching up with my friends. I talked to a few friends I haven’t seen in ages and made plans to talk with some more. On top of that, at least three of my favorite people have moved or are moving to Cincinnati for a little while. I love the new friends I’ve made here, but as Mr. Emerson said, "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."

+3: Last night around 3 am I woke up with an inexplicable craving for pb&j. It was the first thing I ate when I got home from work tonight and it tasted like pure comfort.

+4: Speaking of comfy things, Alison recently reintroduced me to the wonders of hot water bottles. Mine does wonders for heating up my feet in bed and is pretty good for snuggling when no living soul is available (I don’t cuddle with ghosts). It’s definitely going to have a place in...

+5: My new blog “Practical Magic," which I started after spending a night in Molly’s house organizing my bookmarked sites. See, I worry about forgetting all those little things that I’ve read or that people have told me or that I’ve discovered that make life easier. Like brushing your teeth in the shower. I was all about it for a year or so, but for some reason I forgot about it and stopped doing it. So now I have a blog for me with a name borrowed from an Alice Hoffman book that I’ve never read but liked this part from it:

"There are some things, after all, that I know for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can."

+6: Another thing I did at Molly’s was read through all of Fit For a Femme’s blog. I’m feeling a bit at a crossroads in the haircut/clothes/genderish department and so I thought I’d do some exploring on the femmey side of the continuum. In related news, I bought a pair of snakeskin print pants.

+7: So while I may not have my style in order, I think I’ll still be eligible to receive my adult card this year. I have a 401k, signed up for stock options yesterday, and am doing my very own taxes this weekend. Being a grown up is almost too glamorous to handle.

+8: On the other hand, I spent the entire day at work giggling over an accidental penis joke.
Customer: Excuse me, do you know where the Whole Foods in Mason is?
Me: Yeah, it’s right on Mason-Montgomery
Customer: So just take 71 up there? What’s it by?
Me: Oh, it’s right next to the big Dick’s.
Me: Er...
Customer: (no change in expression)
Me: Heheheheheeee

+9: I also spent 2 hours tonight catching up on my favorite show, Switched at Birth. If you haven’t seen it yet, I don’t know what you’re doing. You should probably take 4 minutes right now to watch one of the actors sing Enrique Iglesias’s “Hero” so that you have a better idea of what you’re missing.

+10: Look at my motherlovin’ avocado plant!

Two Winters

2012-01-09T19:34:00.006-05:00

This New Year, my only real resolution is to write something everyday. So far, I'm 7 for 9 since I hadn't yet thought up my plan on the two days of the month. I make promises to myself almost weekly--some of which I stop caring about, some which I've successfully implemented into my life, and some which I still have to remind myself about every day--so the idea of doing something concrete every single day for an entire year is appealing. I don't have any real set guidelines: I might write here, I might write for autostraddle, I might write a letter, or I might just write for myself. The point is that I write something.

Today, inspired by my friend (acquaintance? what do you call someone you met one time in 3-D and got along swimmingly with?) Ashley, I created two mixes for winter: cold and warm. The extremes that winter brings come in the differences between indoors and outside, light(s) and darkness, being alone and together. I've never been good at choosing favorites which makes winter the perfect season* for me.

*Along with spring, summer, and fall.

For the Love, Comes the Burning Young

2011-11-24T00:20:00.008-05:00

--------------------------0--|--(3)--0---0--(3)--
--1----1-1--1-1--1-1--1-1-1--|---1---1---1---1---
--0h2--2-2--0-0--0-0--0-0-0--|---0---2---2---0--- 
-----------------2-2--3-3-3--|---0---2---3---0--- 
------------------------3-3--|---2-------3---2---
-----------------------------|---3-----------3---

peoplewholooklikeronweasley.tumblr.com

2011-11-19T11:17:00.003-05:00

November Is For Sleeping

2011-11-17T20:33:00.002-05:00

i wish that i believed in fate
i wish i didn't sleep so late

Oh darling I think that all of the answers
went south on the backs of those grey winged birds
or slipped through our fingers
while we were sleeping

Now comes, a river runs through the rafters down, down, down
Does it leave me sleeping? Dreaming only of spring

¿Cómo se llama? 3 Things That You Should Know

2011-10-20T23:21:00.008-04:00

+Here's the story of a lovely lady statue in Lima, Peru. Her name is Madre Patria and she lives in Plaza San Martín. The plaza was built to celebrate Peru's 100th independence day and the statue of the Madre Patria is part of a large monument that was commissioned to honor General José de San Martín. When they decided to build a statue, Peru had a contest to see who could come up with the best idea. Luckily (for the sake of comedy and llama-lovers everywhere), Spaniard Mariano Benlliure won with his highly unique sculpture of a guy on a horse. Peru liked with his idea but sent a memo to the Spain saying that they wanted him to include a statue of a lady wearing a crown of flames who would hold up the sign announcing the general. Unfortunately, homophones weren't exactly Benlliure's strong point and he confused the word for flame--llama--with the word for those cute animals that live in the Andes and spit a lot. Behold:

Story courtesy of Alison, who called me this week to tell me about her trip to Peru.

+My phenomenal family came over to eat and play Mad Gab on my birthday and we filmed my dad bringing a whole new meaning to the word "fupa."

+I would not eat a Krispy Kreme for love or for money, but these guys sound like they could be everything I desire in a food. They are, incidentally, also Peruvian.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

2011-10-18T23:25:00.004-04:00

@autostraddle

Ron, Ron Loves Twizzlers

2011-10-16T00:13:00.003-04:00

Star-álfur

2011-10-02T13:40:00.006-04:00

Nature has turned arctic over night and I didn't have to work this entire beautiful weekend. What I did have to do was look for a car. After reluctantly dragging myself to a car dealership and negotiating with a positively lovely man who told me I barely looked 16 and had a few sexist tricks up his sleeve, I'm 99% sure I have a new old car that smells like Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo and more or less works.

Now the exciting stuff: I've been wanting some kind of canopy fandango for my bed, so I spent last night poking holes in my ceiling and hanging up fabric. I even dug out the cardboard stars from my apartment on Fernon and sewed them to the sheet. Now my money plant lights don't look like they're coming out of nowhere. My room feels supercozy and all my decorations are high enough off the ground that Tess can snuggle with me and won't be tempted to eat them.

Last but not least, my avocado plant is HUGE. I'm going to have to figure out some way to pot it without snapping off all the roots so that my baby can grow to its full potential. And so I can make guacamole in 9 years.

We All Want to Grow With the Seeds We Will Sow

2011-09-12T19:00:00.005-04:00

Lost and Clearly Delirious: Top 11 Search Terms That Brought People Here

2011-09-05T20:11:00.005-04:00

11. whack a mole guacamole

10. i have a dress and i dont quite fill it out

9. hate the word cuddle

8. is chlorophyll in guacamole?

7. pros and cons of botellon

6. i like to have my feet touched

5. second grade persuasive essay

4. black maureens

3. how 2 make a sex toy with paper

2. dont fuck with me

1. harry potter leggings

My dear, but if I make the pearly gates I'll do my best to make a drawing

2011-09-01T19:34:00.006-04:00

Two and a half years ago, I drew a sketch of a poster of words from "The Trapeze Swinger" I eventually wanted to make when I had time and supplies. Thanks to graduation and my brother's old prismacolor markers, I have a new poster.

Yǔ

2011-08-30T18:05:00.003-04:00

Emily wanted a t-shirt with the Chinese character for rain on it. I've been in an art-making mood and I like mailing her things, so I made her one. I think it turned out pret-ty naiiiice and the colors even go with my blog. Yeehaw!

Do!

2011-08-09T17:23:00.014-04:00

See

West Philadelphia

Hear

Patrick Wolf: Bermondsey Street

Smell

"Sigmund Frued famously claimed that humans have lost their sense of smell through evolution. But by his early thirties, he had so many sinus problems he was a medical nightmare and probably couldn't smell anything. So he assumed everyone else couldn’t either. Well, there's a Freudian term for that: it’s called projection."

-Avery Gilbert

Taste

Tomato Tartine

Feel
Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear
one more friend
waking with a tumor, one more maniac

with a perfect reason, often a sweetness
has come
and changed nothing in the world

except the way I stumbled through it,
for a while lost
in the ignorance of loving

someone or something, the world shrunk
to mouth-size,
hand-size, and never seeming small.

I acknowledge there is no sweetness
that doesn’t leave a stain,
no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet ....

Tonight a friend called to say his lover
was killed in a car
he was driving. His voice was low

and guttural, he repeated what he needed
to repeat, and I repeated
the one or two words we have for such grief

until we were speaking only in tones.
Often a sweetness comes
as if on loan, stays just long enough

to make sense of what it means to be alive,
then returns to its dark
source. As for me, I don’t care

where it’s been, or what bitter road
it’s traveled
to come so far, to taste so good.

"Sweetness" by Stephen Dunn from New and Selected Poems 1974-1994

Gift Giving: I am (>) Martha Stewart

2011-07-03T19:44:00.007-04:00

Step 1: Find a source

Step 2: Take photos

golf clap, pray, ninja

Step 3: Draw

Step 4: Stencil

Step 5: Paint

Step 5: Ask your little brother to model

Step 6: To the mail!

Under where?

2011-03-26T19:05:00.015-04:00

Have you every cried in a store’s dressing room? Pathetic. I did for the first time last weekend during hour 5 of The Great Little Bra Search. Hungry, frustrated, and generally pissed, I cleaned myself up and left, passing an ironically place advertisement for breast enhancement surgery on my way to the bus stop.

Crying over clothes is the ultimate Lifetime Original Movie moment. It’s self-absorbed and childish, but I was so fed up. Bra shopping is an exercise in submitting yourself to unsolicited advice from every salesperson you ask for help. The woman at Victoria’s Secret laughed when I asked if they carried my size. Someone at Macy’s recommended I go to the children’s department. When I asked a man at the Gap where bras were, he said “Why?”

Fact: I’m looking at this issue from a position of privilege.

You know what? I’m really skinny. Sometimes I like ny body and sometimes I don’t, but I realize that the one or two offhanded “eat a sandwich” comments that I get are nothing compared to what people who are fat face. In fact, the comments I usually get about my body are overwhelmingly complimentary. The images I see of beauty and health all look pretty much like me. I can’t remember anyone ever drawing attention to what I eat, people don’t dance around words to try to find some elusive value-free word when trying to describe what my body looks like, and I don’t have anyone justifying some sense of disgust by invoking suspect medical data. I don’t want to have a pity party to bring attention to the plight of the skinny girl, I want to talk about the intersection of gender, body types, and commercialism.

Fact: Clothes don’t fit me.

Clothes have never fit me. When all the other 6th grade girls were growing into their hips, I was left in their hormonal dust. The only memory I have of New Year’s Eve 2000 is trying to decide if more people would laugh behind my back for having the audacity to wear a bra when I didn’t need one or for not wearing a bra when everyone else was. A particularly nasty fellow girl scout troop member asked me if I would wear shoes if I didn’t have feet. When I said “no” she asked why I wore a bra. If anyone asked me now, I’d punch her in the boobs and say “good luck trying to find mine” but I was a docile teenage lamb.

One of these things is not like the other

Luckily, being a flat-chested weirdo meant that I had a good amount of alone time which I spent learning how to sew. Sewing your own clothes is empowering in that you no longer rely on companies to produce things to suit you and constructive in that you start to look for potential in very ugly things. The downside of knowing how to sew is that you are totally and completely to blame for all your poor fashion choices when you look back on pictures.

Why yes, those are wooden mud shoes that 12-year-old me
modeled after Japanese geta shoes. And you know I made that poncho.

Fact: Shopping is how we create ourselves

We’re taught to buy things to show what kind of a person we are. I’m not sure what “we” I’m talking about because saying things like “society” or “America” makes me feel like I'm pulling words out of nowhere. But we are. Everything from love to philanthropy to cancer awareness is buyable. It might be that we’re all lonely peacocks who can’t find a better way to wear our hearts on our sleeves, but we buy to show we care.

Since so much of our culture revolves around the buying and selling of things, every time we merchandize something, we welcome it into our society. Do you want paper? Excellent! Not only are thousands of stores solely devoted to selling different types of paper, you can buy it almost anywhere. There’s nothing objectionable about paper. Do you want a sex toy? Er, you're not going to be able to pick that up in a department store.

I don't understand this ad

Similarly, clothing stores' inventories reflect a combination good business and social acceptability. Their stock of sizes is usually a normal curve, with medium sizes being overstocked and small and large sizes being understocked or not carried at all. Smaller sizes are understocked due to a smaller demand while larger sizes aren’t carried (except sometimes online) because of undesirability.

"Flesh also suggests the threateningly female, moistness and blood, the hothouse clutches of a heavy-breasted mother—off putting images for male fashion designers."
Daphne Merkin, “The F Word,” The New York Times Style Magazine, Fall 2010

Fact: America is obsessed with breasts

Wardrobe malfunctions, toplessness, and public breastfeed are only some of the more egregious examples of breast outrage. We’re simultaneously terrified and obsessed with them.

I don’t quite fill out a 32A but even if I did, America’s biggest mall only carries 2 bras in that size (neither of them cheaper than $45) and to be honest, it made me feel unfeminine. As much I try to be aware of what’s going on, that doesn’t mean that I’m not affected by it.

We equate breasts with femininity and associate femininity with with bows and lace and that just doesn’t always work for me. When I realized that queer culture existed and started seeing that there were a thousand ways a woman could look, it was eye-opening. I took all my sewing skills and the knowledge that there were hot androgynous girls and went for every corner of the gender spectrum. I don’t want to look the same every day.

But here’s my secret: underwear is my weakness. It’s called “intimates” at stupid department stores for a reason. It’s what sits closest to my skin all day and and so when I can’t find any that fits me, I feel weird. I can make any pair of underwear--men’s or women’s--fit me and look good, but it’s not very comfortable, physically or otherwise. I’m not a child and telling me to go to the girl’s department is demeaning. On the other hand, when I feel this way, I’m just another victim of the consumerist culture. But again, awareness is't the same as transcendence. Buying clothes is agonizing when you don’t quite fit into the size or gender that most other people do. We like everyone to be the same so that we don’t get too confused and so that we can keep making money.

Fact: I am graduating in 46 days

And I need a job. I tried to go to a job fair last month and was turned away because I wasn’t dressed appropriately. I was wearing my nicest boots and dress pants, a button down shirt, and a vest. My friend who was wearing heels and a flowy flowy shirt was allowed in and got two interviews. I’m all for taking the money and absconding, but I’m not sure how to make it in the real world when the rules from junior high make a comeback and I’m not allowed to sit at a cool table at lunch because I’m not dressed like everyone else.

Maybe I what I need to do is find people--someone femme-y, someone more masculine, someone fat, etc.--and open a store where we cater to people like us. If there’s anything that 4 years of sociology has taught me it’s that I’m never the only one with a problem. It might not make sense since commodification is not something I want more of, but sometimes you’ve got to fight fire with fire. We could teach people how to sew or offer tailoring so that they’re ultimately the ones in charge of what they’re wearing.

Fact: The only person who can decide what looks good on you is you

Estic Terminat*

2010-12-14T17:33:00.014-05:00

Oh look, it's been 4 months and I'm already going home. I liked a lot, I didn't like a lot and I'm coming back.

Things I'm very very ready for

+Food
Specifically Chick-fil-a, apple cider, pumpkin anything, Hi Bombay!, peanut butter, flavor, popcorn, butter, broccoli, Mexican food, milk, and a source of protein other than pig.

+Being able to read a book from the library or a bookstore without having to think really hard whilst reading

+People I know

+Having a telephone that works

+Smoking bans in public places
I'm tired of airing out my smoky clothes from the night before since I a) forgot to bring Febreze b) don't get to do my own laundry and c) only have 2 pairs of pants.

+Snow
Until Christmas and then I want that ish gone.

+Being able to express anger or excitement or really any emotion and not sounding like an idiot

+Affordable shoes

Things I'm going to miss

+Being able to walk everywhere
Because it's never colder than 50F/10C, the sidewalks are huge, and everything's close. I'm especially going to miss my walk to school.

+People being really comfortable with their bodies
Also my breasts would like a healthy tan next year.

+The metro
The metro here had countdowns to tell you when the next train is coming, runs all night on Saturdays, costs 7.95€ for 10 trips, and has escalators. This is a far cry from arcade city Philadelphia, where the sham of the subway operates on tokens and frequently forgets to stop at my station.

+The metric system

+Noa
Yesterday, Noa built our pessebre/nativity which really deserves an entire post to itself for you to be able to fully appreciate the comedy value of it.

+Being able to speak three languages
This is a fun game: harto [spanish for tired] > fart [catalan for tired] > pet [catalan for fart, also a popular rock band] > mascota [spanish for pet]

+The beach

+The mountains

+The women
They have nice arms, they don't wear much makeup, they have shiny hair, they wear sensible clothes, they speak Spanish.

+Living next to a church
1/2 due to the laziness-inducing time-telling bells and 1/2 because it smells really nice and calming when I walk through it on my way home.

+Juliet

+Everyone having their own style
Note the stroller: actual adults dress like this.

+Dogs without leashes

+Kids
There's really no idea of kids' space and adults' space here. You'd have to search really hard to find someone who says things like, "Why couldn't they just have left the kids at home" and even if you did find them, they would probably not be from Barcelona. Parents bring their kids to bars, babies don't cry [much], and no one freaks the eff out about child molesters.

+Cheap things, flights, food, drinks, and metros

+Not tipping

+My gym

I would like to take Eloi, the trainer who chats with me while I exercise, with me please. And the cute cycling instructor with a tegan piercing who sings along to the music over her microphone while she's teaching classes. And the fingerprint scanners so I don't have to carry a card around.

+Monopoly money

+People standing patiently in line

If there is a line. You know those signs at King's Island:

Those would not exist here because people just don't care. If you're in a grocery chain or clothes store, no one cares about waiting around for 10 minutes until it's their turn, and if you're in a market it's an all-out push or be pushed smilefest of nice people.

+Assorted weirdness

Coming soon: Me throwing up all over you about how much I loved Morocco. As soon as my roommate from the trip sends me our photos.

*I know it should be "estic terminada" since I'm a girl, but you can't sing that to the tune of "Feliz Navidad."

On Culture and Offensive Language

2010-12-03T05:58:00.010-05:00

If you've been to Spain or read anything I've had to say about it, you know that the Spanish have a special relationship with ham. In any predominantly Christian culture, taking the Lord's name is vain is not nice, but what happens when you have a Catholic country that is obsessed with pig products? I'll tell you what happens, you get a place where "Jesus Christ!" and "and a ham!" are equally offensive exclamations. When you look at how people insult each other, you see a lot about their values.

In Harry Potter, there's a scene where Ron calls Harry a loser and storms out. In the subtitles, he calls him inútil which is Spanish for "unhelpful." Just a few days ago, someone asked one of my teachers how to say "loser" in Spanish. She said there really isn't any translation, not because they don't have a word, but because winning and losing aren't important concepts in Spain (except when it comes to soccer). Calling a Spaniard a loser wouldn't make any sense to them; they'd just ask, "What did I lose?"

In America*, we're a capitalist society. Winning means success and losing means failure, laziness, and undesirability. Spain's socialist system means that helpfulness is more important than personal achievement.

Spain's socialism is visible on public transportation. While you have to swipe your ticket to enter the metro, the trams are set up so that it's up to you to validate your ticket once you're on board. In three months, I've never seen anyone come around to enforce the 50 Euro fine in place for unvalidated tickets, yet every single person who gets on the tram makes sure they pay for their ride. Half the signs at every stop encourage passengers to look out for the common good, saying "Valida tu título. Todos queremos un buen servicio," "Validate your ticket, we all want good service."

The other half of the signs have a more Big Brother feel.

"Validate your ticket, we're all watching you." Pros and cons to every system, right?

It seems like something that's culturally ingrained, but then I see people jump the turnstile to get on the metro. When I think about it, though, it's mostly at night and they're almost always drunk teenagers and young foreign tourists. People here take their three different recycling bags up to 10 blocks to put it into the right bins. 1st graders take themselves to school on the metro. Barcelona is a city without dog parks because dogs are trained so they don't need a leash. Responsibility is taken seriously so that life is easier for everyone.

In unrelated idiomatic expressions, if someone asks you on a date and you turn then down, you "give them the pumpkin."

*I know Harry Potter is a British book and movie, but if the number of advertisements I saw in the UK are any indication, competition is alive and well there too. That's nor to say that people in Spain don't compete or aren't driven, but it seems that after years of Franquimo, the culture is more willing to value diversity (meaning there's not one universally accepted continuum of success and failure) whether it's in the political structure of the autonomous communities and languages, rights for minority groups, or respect for jobs that are not as high-powered but necessary for the city to function.

Cataluña: Bringing a Whole New Meaning to the Yule Log

2010-11-29T12:11:00.010-05:00

Things I'm excited about
+Seeing my family
+Going to Bravo for Christmas Eve Dinner
+Having adequate cold-weather clothing
+Showering for longer than 30 seconds
+Playing cards
+My dog

Things I miss about home
+My grandma's Christmas party
+Our advent calendar
+Making cookies and buckeyes
+Getting a Christmas tree

But none of this [okay, some of it, but definitely not showering] compares to how in love I am with Cataluña's Christmas traditions. This is a land obsessed with 4 things: pigs, fire, olive oil, and poo. Christmas wouldn't be a real holiday without at least two of these things figuring into the celebrating somehow.

Maybe you've heard that instead of Santa Claus, the 3 Kings come on January 6th to deliver presents, but they aren't the only ones. On December 8thish, everyone pulls out their Tió de Nadal. He's a log with a face propped up on two sticks and he looks like this:

Terrifying. Every night until Christmas, kids bring him food (ham, probably) and drinks and cover him with a blanket to keep him comfy. When Christmas morning comes and he's nice and full, they sing "Caga tió!" which means "Poo, log!" and hit him with a stick so that he'll poo. According to Carme Bach, world's most adorable Catalán teacher, you can make the tió go faster if you light the sticks on fire first. When it's finally had enough abuse, the log then poos out candy and little presents for everybody.

Cute shit. Literally.

But wait, there's more! For all you skeptics out there who think that the Christmas story is just a little too good to be true, check out the Catalán nativity. It's exactly like a American nativity except for one extra guy: the caganer/pooer who's included to make the scene more realistic.

Should you choose to subscribe to Wikipedia's alternate theory that the caganer is only there for kids, you should take into consideration that in 2005 there was an outcry with the city didn't include him in the public nativity. Due to protests, he was included again in 2006.

p.s. Barcelona's not completely poo. They've got giant pasta Christmas lights all over the city which is more or less all I could ever want in a holiday decoration decoration.

p.p.s. DAD, I know you're reading this. Do not even think about telling Ian about the pooer or the log. He's getting one for Christmas, obvs.

You Wish Young Eyes Could See You Grow Older

2010-11-03T12:36:00.007-04:00

Do you remember that episode of Pete & Pete when Pete hears the best song he's ever heard but can't remember how it goes and know one knows what it is and he's worried that he's going to lose it forever? I didn't think that story was relevant anymore because all you have to do is type "lyrics" and "whatever words you remember" into google and you instantly know what it is. A few weeks ago though, I was in H&M not really paying attention to the music until I realized that I had been listening to the best song I've ever heard in my life. I tried to remember some words but they were too hard to understand and there were only 20 seconds left in the song so I hummed the part I remembered and hoped I'd figure out some way to type that into google. This, asking people if they've heard a song that sounded like a mix between Coldplay, Patrick Wolf, and Sigur Ros, and looking for an H&M playlist didn't work but spending 4 hours on this did. There's not really any moral to this story, it's just something to say about a song that I like so much that I don't have anything to say about it.

Harry Potter, Adult Pleasure, and Leggings

2010-11-01T09:21:00.006-04:00

This is a popular sign that you can see all over the city. It says something about everything fitting but not everything being worth it but I have no idea what this has to do with peeing. Also is it possible to pee with your hands on your hips like this?

My grandma used to mix up my cousin Aria and I so she would just call us "Lauria" collectively. There's a hotel in Tarragona called Hotel Lauria. Cute ish.

Wouldn't it be exciting if you got a free condom with churros? Because nothing says "I want to have sex right now" quite like eating a vat of oil dipped in a gallon of chocolate. Unfortunately, it's just sugar to add to your chocolate. I wish I know what made it special for adults.

Why are all the stop signs in English? If you taught me how to spell "nevera" last week, maybe you know and can help me out.

Clever graffiti transcends language.

Here's the part where I brag about my trip to Madrid. We took the AVE train which goes 315 miles in 2.5 hours. Suck on that, Amtrak. Four of us somehow got the VIP compartment with magic doors and without Draco Malfoy. Just to remind us that were were living the HP dream, AVE decorated the doors with little golden snitches [you can rain on my desfile if you want but I already know they're just the AVE emblem] that you can see in the upper left-hand corner.

In other Potter news, Elbow Street is decorated with a picture of a quidditch player's arm.

Museo del Jamón. Disgusting. Only Spain would have a chain of ham stores that turns into disturbingly full bars at night.

What do you do when you really want e. coli for lunch and your friend wants ebola? Go to Eboli.

I have no words for Panty Fantasia.

Éis Éis Baby: Critical Vocabulary for Barcelona

2010-10-24T15:11:00.003-04:00

+Vosotros
[you guys, y'all, yinz]
Remember when your Spanish teacher didn't make you learn the vosotos form for verbs and said it was useless? They were lying to you. All I hear here is ¿Cómo estáis? ¿Qué haréis?

+Butifarra/Botifarra
[sausage]
First, you should know another word, "menú del día." This is the Spanish version of a prix-fixe menu, is available at almost every restaurant for around 10€ and includes an appetizer, entrée, dessert, and drink. It's a great idea but almost all the menus here are in Catalán which is a cruel way to make someone learn a language: make them pay and then potentially starve. Yesterday, I saw "butifarras amb salsa d'all i oli" and ordered it because, I figured, what could possibly be wrong about garlic and olive oil. As it turns out, the olive oil was used to cook the giant garlic and pig sausage that landed on my plate. I was not pleased with my choice. Now I'm being haunted because I live next to this place.

+Vale
[okay]
Don't say "okay," "alright," "sure," "gotcha," or "yep," say "vale."

+Nevera
[fridge]
You want to know what they refrigerate here? Nothing. Try to spot the offending items below.

+Bollo
[i don't even know]
Allegedly this word means "lesbian" but I just looked it up and it's a type of pastry. Do what you want with that.

+Izquierda
[left]
In Philadelphia, New York, Montreal, and probably every other city in the world, I lose money on a daily basis due to handedness discrimination. Handedness discrimination is a manually-based offense that is considered especially heinous and affects nearly 10% of the population. Luckily, you swipe your card on the left side in the metros here so I am good to go.

+Montañas/Mar
[mountains/sea]
Since the city's on a tilt, geographically, no one here tells you that anything's north or south, it's toward the mountains or toward the sea or "arriba" or "abajo."

+Segundo Piso
[2nd floor]
Oh, you thought living on the second floor meant you only had to walk up one flight of stairs? WRONG. The first floor are shops, the second floor is "principal," the third floor is the first floor, and the fourth floor is the second floor. This is probably why everyone is skinny.

+Clara
Why don't we have this in the U.S.? It's a drink that's 1/2 lemon soda and 1/2 beer and 2/2 delicious. Other drink words your should know are botellón, horchata, and cubata. Botellón is where you stand on a street corner and share a bottle/giant juice box of wine. Horchata is a weird but really nice drink made out of somekindof nuts that would be really great with a soft pretzle if they sold those here. Cubata just means a mixed drink but each part comes separately. This is good because a) you know exactly how much you have b) you get a bottle of juice or soda to share with your friend c) if your bartender is a jerk, they can't do the jerk thing where they turn around and fill up the entire glass with sour mix and charge you for a real drink. See below for two-drink excitement.

+Otro
[other]
According to my Spanish teacher, the number one way to scream "I'm American" is to say "el otro" instead of just "otro." Other ways of being American include: going to La Ovella Negra, tipping, and not wearing a scarf.

See I'm All About Them Words

2010-10-10T13:54:00.009-04:00

We interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast of excitement and happy bewilderment to bring you confusion of a different sort. Maybe I'm just feeling out of my element or maybe I'm thinking about it because of all the suicides last month but it seems like I've encountered more homophobia in the past month than ever before. When I'm at home, I'm surrounded by like-minded people who don't say stupid things and who are with me if somebody else does. At home, I took care of that problem ages ago because I'm out. Coming here is like being 17 again and having to tell everyone all over again. Of course, this time I'm a lot more comfortable with myself and so it doesn't seem like such a big deal, but I still worry that I might be stepping on someone's toes. If I comment on how a girl looks, will someone think I'm being too aggressive or obnoxious? Is it too much to be political too?

So far there have been 3 times that I've said something. I've felt the same afterward every time which makes me think that someone should create a Kübler-Ross-style model of the stages of confronting ignorance. It would go something like this:

Regret: This stage occurs immediately after something is said. It is often accompanied by thoughts such as "Why can't I keep my mouth shut?" "I don't even know this person that well, now they're going to think I'm crazy." "They weren't even being hateful, I should save my anger for when it really matters." "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me."

Rethinking: This is the stage wherein the person tries to rationalize their initial reaction. Common sentiments include "If no one says anything, it's never going to change." "If it made me feel weird enough to have said something, think about how much it might hurt someone who isn't comfortable with herself."

Rerethinking: This stage settles in when the person can not get the incident out of their mind and are convinced that they've upset the social fabric of the entire world. Thoughts may include "What is wrong with me?" "Shit." and "I actually am the angry dyke they were talking about."

Rererethinking: This stage often occurs concurrently with the previous one. It may include feelings of empowerment or understanding such as "You're only questioning yourself because there was no one there to back you up, you didn't do anything wrong." "They've probably never thought about that word before; maybe all they needed was someone to point it out."

Rerererethinking: You get the point.

+++

Being somewhere new is like being a sleeper agent. No one knows you're gay and so they feel free to say completely idiotic things in front of you. Let's investigate.

Incident #1
Location: Apartment party
Parties: Boy #1 (let's call him Patricio), Boy #2 (BobEsponja), me

Patricio to BobEsponja: Dude, I love you. No homo.
Me: Don't say that, you sound like an asshole.
Patricio: Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.
Me: What?
Patricio: I just realized...you're gay. I'm so sorry! I feel like such an idiot.
Me: It's okay.
Patricio: It's not okay! Oh noooo!
Me: I mean, yeah, it's not okay. But I--
BobEsponja: It's okay, we'll just remember not to say it in front of you.
Me: What? No. No.
Patricio: Oh noooooooooooo.

Aftermath: I felt awful for calling him an asshole. There are way better ways to fight crime, superheroes. I also had to comfort him for 10 minutes afterward because he had a lot of feelings and was drunk. Actually everyone there was drunk and 10 minutes later, BobEsponja yelled "No homo" and passed out. Does it make sense to talk to people about homophobia when they're drinking? I don't know.

Incident #2
Location: Gender Studies classroom
Parties: Wet Lindsay, ADM, me

ADM: This class is going to be so full of annoying feminists.
Wet Lindsay: Yeah and the teacher said we're just going to talk about women. This is a gender studies class, I came to learn about men too.
ADM: Yeah, our teacher's a total dyke.
Me: Come on, seriously?
Wet Lindsay: Do you have a problem with us?
Me: Not with you but are you serious? "Our teacher's a total dyke?"
ADM: I didn't say that.
Me: Er, I'm sitting right here.
ADM: I didn't say that.
Wet Lindsay: Yeah you did.
ADM: Okay yeah I did. So what?
Wet Lindsay: Anyway, if you're going to be mad at anyone, you should be mad at me, I asked if she was a dyke.
Me: (angrily) I'm not angry! I'm just saying if you're straight, and I'm assuming you are, don't use that word.
Wet Lindsay: I am but you need to calm down, it doesn't even mean anything in England.
Me: But we're not in England.

Aftermath: I was eavesdropping and so felt entirely stupid injecting myself into their conversation. On the other hand, kids are killing themselves because of the homophobic messages they're hearing and the girls were definitely talking loud enough in the silent classroom for all of us around them to hear. I was irritated that she used the word "dyke" when "lesbian" would have worked fine if all she was trying to do was describe her. And that she tried to defend herself by saying that it didn't mean anything when she obviously meant it in a derogatory way. Should you call strangers out when you're listening in on their conversation? Probably not? I don't know.

Incident #3
Location: Walking to class
Parties: Sam, me

Me: So what class are you taking?
Sam: History, don't take it though, our teacher's awful. She's this completely dyke.
Me: No, no, no.
Sam: Huh?
Me: I don't know what you mean by that.
Sam: She's like really opinionated and asks us lots of questions and is really passionate.

Aftermath: I don't even know what to think about this one. She meant it in a negative way, but all the reasons she hated her sound like good things to me. Maybe it just means we don't have much in common.

Incident #4: Just for fun
Location: Overheard at the Beach
Parties: Elizabeth, Ilene, Me

Elizabeth: Remember last night we went went to that gay bar?
Ilene: Ohmygod I was so drunk I totally forgot.
Elizabeth: That Italian chick totally wanted to bang you.
Ilene: You idiot, lesbians can't have sex.
Elizabeth: Yeah but they can pretend, haven't you ever seen The L Word?
Ilene: No.
Elizabeth: They use their fingers like this (hold her hands up like she's holding a tray). The more fingers they use, the more it counts because it's closer to sex.
Ilene: Ohh.
Me: (laughing)
Elizabeth: Is she laughing at us?
Ilene: We're on a beach in Spain, I don't think she speaks English.
Elizabeth: Oh, yeah.

+++

Anyway, this isn't Spain I'm talking about, it's people I've met in Spain from America and the U.K. Despite a tradition of machista and a giant Catholic population, gay marriage and adoption are legal here. Women can be topless anywhere men can, the morning-after pill is available without a perscription, and and Zapatero has called himself a feminist. True, they just suspended sex education in Valencia, but my language teacher reassured me that Camps, the President of Valencia who approved the suspension, is infamous for being corrupt and shouldn't be around much longer since elections are coming up. I don't know what all this legislation means for day-to-day life yet, though. I need to gather up all my language skills and step out of the bubble I've found myself in because there's got to be something out there that's better.

But before I make my way into the big city that speaks The Spanish Language, I need to get a grip on my English. Here's what I think works when talking about homophobia:

Be out. The more people realize that there are gay people who they actually know, the more unacceptable it becomes to be homophobic. Being gay is certainly not the most important thing about you, but when you let people know that it's an important part of who you are and how you see the world, if becomes harder for them to hate the sin, love the sinner or whatevs. Not to mention that stereotypes fall apart when people realize that you're gay even when you're wearing a skirt.

Be educated. Read Autostradde! Read books! Talk to people so that when you find yourself in a situation that makes you think "I should say something," you don't sputter around for the right words and give up. Know why "no homo" makes you angry and be able to explain it calmly and reasonably.

Use the right words. Despite what Sam might think, being passionate about something is great. Damn the man but for lawd sakes don't say that. Nothing is going to turn someone off what you have to say faster than words like "patriarchy." You know there was a time when you were afraid to call yourself queer or a feminist or whatever identity you claim as your own now, so give the same benefit of the doubt to anyone else who is venturing into unknown territory They're not stupid or below you, they just don't know yet that there are great people standing behind these words.

What do you do? How do you balance having friends who don't think exactly like you? Do you say what's on your mind or do you pick your battles carefully? How do you think radically without alienating everyone? Do you share any of my feelings or am I alone in my compulsive need to be gaygaygay and in everyone else's business?

I Could Get Used to Unrefrigerated Eggs, I Promise

2010-10-03T14:07:00.005-04:00

It's October 3rd and I spent the day on the beach listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows audio book. If I can just find pre-made hummus, reliable internet, and food with a flavor other than "olive oil" or "ham," I might have to move here permanently.

"Correfoc" or "That Woman Who Sued McDonald's for Hot Coffee is the Reason The U.S. is No Fun"

2010-09-26T04:44:00.023-04:00

This past weekend was La Mercé, my new favorite holiday. If you're on your way over to Wikiepedia to figure out what this is, don't believe the (lack of) hype. It's the festa major for Barcelona which means that the city throws a giant party for three days. I did a lot of things, but since I know the majority of people who read this blog are on it for less than 30 seconds, I won't make you wait around for the good part. On Saturday night, we went to the Correfoc/Fire Run, a giant parade of devils and dragons where people in the parade throw fireworks at the crowd.

I'd like to say that I wasn't prepared, but really I was just too cool to be schooled. On Monday, I read that it was supposed to recreate hell and thought "How lovely Spain, a hell parade." On Thursday, Noa told us that we should wear long sleeves to cover our arms so that we wouldn't get burned; I said, "Thanks, mom" and she rolled her eyes. The entire hour before we left the house, I was convinced that I could hear the smoke monster from LOST coming from somewhere down the street. When we got there, there was an entire family bundled up in scarves and chemistry goggles and I still had no idea that I was at the scariest parade on earth.

For the first half hour, everyone shrieked and hugged strangers until they got too scared or too bored and went home or decided that they weren't going to die from sparklers and ran into the parade.

(No photos allowed inside)
Museu Picasso
Free entry day at all the museums!

Parc de la Ciutadella
Please note the pied piper. This was a clown show where 20 people sat on bikes connected to the stage and watched the circus as they pedaled it around the park.

Daby Touré
One night we watched a Senegalese pop band and everyone sang along to words we didn't know. This must be why people like concerts.

Castillos humanos
This is amazing but also terrifying and then heartwarming because a tower fell and the crowd rushed up to catch the falling people.

Sardanas
Older people/Ancianos/Jubilados do this dance at the cathedral every Sunday, but this weekend there was a competition. On normal days, you throw your bag in the middle of the circle and join in knowing that the magic protective shield of cute old people dancing is the only thing in the city that is impenetrable pick-pocket-wise.

Correfoc
photos stolen from Magdalene Nutter because I was too busy trying to preserve my eyesight/because I was living in the moment and in my joie de vivre forgot to take a picture/because I left my camera on my desk.

(We danced out way down to the beach so I still didn't have my camera)
Fireworks on the beach
The kids from California didn't think this was all that great but I was oohing and awing my heart out. Plus where else can you get a beer, cerveza, agua, cola, fanta or a masaje whilst watching fireworks?

Churros con chocolate/xurros amb xocolate
This is what 5 orders of churros looks like. Oops but also yum.

Montjuïc
We took the fun-icular train up the mountain to see a castle and a million little kids and their stylish parents.

Montjuïc Circ
...And found a circus. This is the only person I've seen in Barcelona on a fixed gear bike which gives me hope for the world and its people.

Montjuïc Circ
There was a trapeze! We had no idea what was going on since the only words any of us know in Catalán are "Adeu" and "Tanqeu la porta, si us plau" but as soon as it started, I had to eat my whiny, I've-been-in-line-for-2-hours words about it being for little kids. Eat your heart out Cirque du Soliel.

Spoons and Soundwaves

2010-09-19T15:12:00.016-04:00

Most days, I'm so at home in this apartment that it's hard to believe I've only been here for a few weeks. Outside the house has its ups and downs, but those are stories for next time.

The family I'm living with is helpful and great at cooking. Their house is like one of those tiny "this is our home" apartments that IKEA has set up in their stores, but the 5 of us never seem to be stepping on each other's toes. While other students in my program are trying to figure out how to stay out of the way when their host mom and dad fight or how to deal with families who roll their eyes at their attempts at Spanish, I somehow ended up in a house where the only thing I hear more than "No pasa nada" are the church bells next door that ring every 15 minutes.

You know how you can learn more about a person by exploring their home than by spending that time talking with them in another setting? Language barrier firmly intact (although I'm working on it), I'm relying on their house to tell me about my host family. The little bit of clutter is cozy and makes think that Malene, my host mom, means it when she laughs at the stories I tell her about mistakes I made speaking to a sales clerk or accidentally closing the door on a neighbor. Every room in the house is filled with snapshots, professional portraits, and polaroids of the family tucked into mirrors and light switches. One wall has been taken over by a growth chart for Noa. The marks lower on the wall are carefully written in pencil, but the more recent ones were written in blue or purple marker in Noa's own nascent handwriting. And why should everything be perfect?

Homes here seem to be a place for living, not entertaining or improving or investing in. We're all so on top of each other that it would be insane to imagine anyone trying to make their house an entirely private space. Our windows are always open and drying laundry hangs off our balconies letting our neighbor's lives drift in and out during the day. Someone near us is always watching Bollywood movies, the dad across the hall sings to his baby in the morning when he starts crying, and someone cooks dinners that smell good enough to make me want to knock on their door and ask for a bite.

In the morning, I eat breakfast in the corner and make notes to myself to get an electric kettle for my apartment, stop eating so much nutella, and remember my dictionary for class. Our kitchen is smaller than a closet, but is packed to the top with everything we need. The differences aren't that big, but the parts that are strange mean more about culture than cabinets which, by the way, we don't have. There are 4 bins that are color-coded for the Spanish recycling system: blue for paper, green for glass, yellow for plastic, and grey for trash. The washing machine and oven under the counter are both missing their mates; dryers don't seem to exist anywhere in Spain and the stove has been replaced with a hot plate. My favorite part of the kitchen is the radio with a spoon for an antenna, a trick Malene learned from her Dutch grandmother. She has it on all the time and I've kept it on this weekend to take up space in the empty house while she, Jorge, and Noa are gone visiting her family up the coast.

A playlist of familiar and new songs from the kitchen radio, tuned to station 93.9:

+The Kooks: "Naive"
+A country song in Spanish
+Ziggy Marley: "Falling in Love"
+Shakira: "Waka Waka"
+Chubby Checker: "Limbo Rock"
+Counting Crows: "Accidentally in Love"
+Coldplay: "Life in Technicolor II"
+Death Cab for Cutie: "What Sarah Said"
+Steel Pulse: "Roller Skates"
+Spoon: "Got Yr. Cherry Bomb"
+Duffy: "Mercy"
+Something by Beirut
+The Zombies: "Time of the Season"

Things and Other Things

2010-09-06T09:30:00.007-04:00

Today is September 6th which means it's day 4 in Spain. So far, I've taken two tours with my group, kind of eaten a few meals, and moved in with my host family. I have grand ideas, but right now I've still got jetlag going on so I'm sticking with something small. I don't even feel like taking pictures yet but perhaps they will appear eventually and this sentence will disappear.

Bag ladies and bag men
Everyone here has bags and no one even makes fun of men because you have to be stupid to not have a bag. This is bad new for me because I hate carrying things and would much rather stick my wallet in my pocket and pretend that I'm spontaneous and unfettered by worldly things (which is a total lie, although I did make it here with only 4 pairs of pants.) Desafortunadamente, pickpockets are a thing too. I didn't really believe the 3298754 warnings that we'd been given, but walking back to the hotel yesterday, we saw an 8-ish-year-old boy steal 200 euros from a woman as she was taking it out of the atm (aka "la caixa"). The woman and two of her friends grabbed him and pinned him up against the wall and we watched while he screamed, his brother halfheartedly punchslapped them, and they yelled for someone to call the police. I felt bad because this little boy was being pulled and pushed by three adults, but then bad for them for being robbed, but then bad for him because what if his family needs the money, but then bad for the people because, er, they were robbed. Out of three restaurants I've been to, two had boxes near the front that you could rent to put your things in so you don't have to worry about someone taking them while you eat.

Fashion for hot weather
You know what else everyone here has? Harem pants. I was going to be obnoxious and say that I totally called this 5 years ago, but the truth is that Becca had a pair and told a story about men having babies and so I made myself some.

H20
Despite being so environmentally conscious--our house has garbage and three separate recycling cans--everyone here drinks bottled water like it's their job. Apparently Brita hasn't hit the scene here yet.

Have I mentioned I'm tired?
I know that this is the most insanely dumb/self-centered/ethnocentricifyouwantabigword idea in the world, but little kids and homeless men here speak spanish better than me (obviously) and it makes me feel stupid. Anyway, During the first 2 days, we wandered around in a giant, loud, English-speaking group of Americans so everyone automatically spoke to us in English. Today, we all moved in to our actual houses and the 3 hours I spent speaking Spanish with the couple, Jorge and Malena, and their 7-year-old daughter, Noa, were exhausting. I'm glad that I'm forced to practice speaking, but right now, the only Spanish I feel like working on is a siesta.

...Which by the way are real
I just tried to go to the grocery store, my favorite place, and was deeenied because it was 3. It's so hot here right now that it makes sense to go home or to work and do things until it cools down at night, but shopping is not going to be easy until I figure out how this works.

A break for feelings
A couple people in our group apparently came here for a semester-long spring break. I know I should have expected this but I did not because I came here to have a nerdy good time. On the bright side, this means I won't be stuck in an American bubble and will either spend a lot of time alone or meet Actual Spanish People. It wasn't like I was expecting to come here and find everything to be perfect, but the thing is I was. I like being alone, A LOT, but there's a difference between choosing to be alone--although I guess I did that when I decided to come here--and not having anyone to call when I want someone to talk to, eat lunch with, or meet for a walk. I've decided that time zones are more divisive than actual distance.

Big A, little a, what begins with a?
The apartment (which begins with a) is small, my key is big. Really, my house key is colossal and magnetic and costs $30 to get duplicates made. The plugs here are about twice the size of U.S. ones and look like someone from IKEA designed them. The streets in the area where I live are tiny but the buildings are pretty tall which makes walking around anywhere feel like being in the maze from the final competition of the Triwizard Tournament.

Coexisting
Nuria, the housing coordinator, said that "coexistance" is a hard word to say, but, on the roads at least, everyone here seems to have it down. The streets here change from actual road to cobblestone to brick all the time and cars (although way fewer than I've ever seen), bikes, motorcycles, and walkers are on all of them. The sidewalk isn't always very well differentiated from the street but when cars get stuck behind people walking, they don't honk at them! Bikes actually pay attention to stoplights, motorcycles go down the tiny winding streets in the Gothic Quarter, and people generally don't seem in a big hurry to get anywhere.

Wooley mammoth
Yesterday, we took a bike tour of Barcelona with our group. When we stopped in the Parque de la Ciutadella, someone pointed out that there was a lifesize(?) statue of a woolly mammoth across the pond. Today, we were walking to get groceries and Noa kept talking about something that's really fun and something something mammoths something something and then pointed to her right and HELLO there's a Mammoth Museum 2 minutes from my house. I don't know why they're obsessed with Mammoths, but I'm going to make up for this whole bookish post with and entire blog of photos from my upcoming visit to the museum.

More things
+The toilet has a chain that hangs from the ceiling to flush.
+When I search in Google, the default language is Spanish.
+There is poutine here.
+I brought Noa Sillybandz as a present and she is in love with them. I think Sillybandz should pay me for being a brand ambassador.
+I can hear Bollywood music and the church bell from Santa Maria del Mar coming through my window.

Crafts in the Bathtub

2010-09-03T01:22:00.004-04:00

Water + Baking Soda + Dish Soap + Food Coloring + Paper = Marbleized Paper

Comfort Food (Shopping) and New Places

2010-08-18T12:20:00.021-04:00

I've been living in Philadelphia for the past three years and I'm ready for a break.

I moved here for school and was excited to be in a new place with people I didn't know. The disappointment came slowly; I realized that, while I wanted to try something new, not everyone else did. Friends were hard to find because everyone at Temple seemed to be from around the area and came to college with their friends and groups from high school intact. My classes weren't what I had expected and as the first year ended, I was no closer to finding a major. I missed my family and the familiarity of my life in Ohio. At home, I knew the streets I drove on and who to call when I needed to get out of my house.

It's gotten easier, though. I've made friends, gotten a bike, called my mum a lot, and found places that feel comfortable. Like my grandma, I like visiting grocery stores when I go somewhere but finding places to shop for food in the city has been more difficult that I would've thought. Growing up in suburban Cincinnati, there was a Kroger a mile away so I didn't have to hunt down stores to buy fresh produce or bread. The urban grocery shortage wasn't something I'd been forced to consider before, though I know I didn't feel any of its effects seriously during the semester I ate grilled cheese after grilled cheese in my dorm's kitchen.

Freshman year, the only place I knew how to get to was city hall, but now I can find my way almost anywhere. I've been to every grocery I've heard of and been disappointed with their selection, paid too much, and gotten there to find it's been demolished. Hopefully the little bit of knowledge that I have can help someone else moving here because regardless of how lonely, overwhelmed, or upset you are, you need to eat so that you can get past it.

+Rittenhouse Market
18th and Spruce
This one's just not worth visiting. It may be convenient for the people who live in Rittenhouse Square, but if you go there, you'll be paying way more than you have to for a very small selection of items. I suspect that this is because people who live in Rittenhouse can afford to go out to eat a lot or get their groceries shipped to them but I don't/can't/won't.

+Food and Friends
20th and Spruce
This guy, on the other hand, is completely lovely. It's got a great name and it's probably one of the prettiest grocery store I've ever visited. Despite Pennsylvania's asinine liquor laws, Food and Friends somehow managed to squeeze in an entire aisle of beer by the bottle so that you can create your own six pack or just buy a single bottle on your way home at night.

+Trader Joe's
22nd and Commerce (between Market and JFK)
Trader Joe's is like that friend you forget about because you've both moved and now you live so far apart but when you finally do see each other, you're suddenly reminded why you were such good friend in the first place and promise to see each other more often. I went here the other day and was amazed at how cheap everything was. I got 8 ounces of goat cheese for $3.50 (4 ounces is $5.99 at Acme, $4.99 at Whole Foods, and $4.50 at Reading Terminal) and organic, vegetarian-fed, free range chicken for $4.98 (the same amount at Acme runs around $8.95 and isn't special hippy chicken.) They keep prices low by only carrying their own store brand so this might not be your thing if you're particular about a certain type of yogurt or rice but usually their version is excellent.

+DiBruno Brothers
19th and Chestnut
The only reason to visit this store is to marvel at the outrages prices people are paying for really boring things. You might initially being excited by the panache, but there's nothing here you can't find anywhere else. I peeked in their pastry case and their cakes looked like they were covered in whipped icing. Whipped icing is cheap and gross and lackluster baked goods are bad news for everyone.

+Reading Terminal Market
12th between Filbert and Arch
If I can find a market half a good as this in the cities I move to, I'll be lucky. Reading Terminal is all about variety. I come here to buy most of my produce (Iovine's near the back right corner has everything plus granola, dried fruit, and nuts and gives a student discount on Wednesdays and Sundays) but they've got at least two cheese shops, a spice store, bakeries, honey, jewelry, ice cream, handmade soaps, bookstores, and dozen of little restaurants that serve Indian, Middle Eastern, Japanese, as well as local food.

+Cousin's
6th and Berks
I did most of my emergency shopping trips here last summer only because it was close to my apartment. It's not convenient--you have lug your groceries back up a hill to get back to Temple--they make you check your bag when they get there, and there are birds flying up and down the aisles. It's not without it's charms, though; in the city of brotherly love with bars named things like "Sisters," "Uncles," and "Sugar Mom's" it's good to know that other family members aren't being forgotten. And while most grocery stores have aisles for baking needs and cereal, Cousin's has two entire aisles labeled "Goya."

+That New Temple Grocery
Broad between Oxford and Jefferson
I would have killed for a grocery store during my first two years at college when I lived on Temple's campus. Compared to other options in the city, this one's not so special but it beats biking two and a half miles to get to the nearest grocery.

+The Foodery
10th and Pine
Like Food and Friends, The Foodery sells beer by the bottle. I mentioned Pennsylvania liquor laws before but my excitement about beer in corner stores might make more sense if I spelled it out for you. You can't sell beer in the same store that wine and liquor are sold. You can't sell any of the three in grocery stores. Liquor stores close at 9 and all day on Sunday. You can buy beer at beer distributors but you can't buy any less than a case or you can carry out at bars but they raise the price and you have to tip the bartender.

+Whole Foods
10th and South
Meh. Whole Foods is alright if you're looking for free samples or a DivaCup, but you can get anything here, including organic items, somewhere else. I've heard that they sell bulk flours (Essene, a natural food store near 4th and South, does too) which is something I'm into, but I'm holding out for finding a wholesale bulk store in the city.

+SuperFresh
10th and South
SuperFresh is great if you're just looking for a regular grocery store and it's in a pretty convenient location. It might be slightly pricey but if you're just looking for orange juice or a box of pasta, this is just fine.

+The Italian Market
9th between Fitzwater and Wharton
If you're looking for some obscure fish, meat, fruit, or vegetable and can't find it anywhere else, it's probably hiding somewhere in The Italian Market. Since it runs up and down one street, it's a easy to check everything out before going back and buying what you want since you might have instant buyer's remorse when you realize that the tomatoes half a block away are fresher and cost half as much. Two of Philadelphia's cheesesteak places are at the south end, if you're into that sort of thing, but think about not visiting Geno's because Joe Vento is not a nice man.

+Acme
Passyunk between 10th and Dickinson
The proximity of a grocery store was one of the main reasons I moved into the neighborhood I've been living in for the past year. It was great to only have to walk a block to get food during the winter and if I'm cooking and realize I've forgotten something, I don't have to go far to get it.

+Amish Farmer's Market
Passyunk between Cross and Tasker
Every Wednesday afternoon in the summer, all the Amish come to the square outside my house to sell vegetables and sunflowers and honey. The kids who run the stands are so nice and polite even when people are pushy about buying things. For a fun recycling adventure, buy a single beer on Tuesday night to have with dinner and then use the bottle as a vase for flowers that you buy on Wednesday.

A Biking Trail

View Food in Philadelphia in a larger map

I haven't been everywhere in Philadelphia, but I know it's not my home. I'm ready to get lost in a bigger city with a culture that's not quite so cold. I'm leaving to study abroad in Barcelona on September 3rd and I'm apprehensive but excited.

This time, I already know what it's like to be alone and I'm okay with it.

I'm taking my helmet and signing up for Bicing, so that I can explore the city when it gets a little too lonley or loud to take. I'm not expecting it to be perfect, but the challenges seem less unexpected this time--languages, school, my new family, managing money, missing home, traveling. Right now, though, all I can think about is visiting the Boqueria.

Addison Between 17th and 18th

2010-08-18T00:49:00.005-04:00

Notes from me to me (and maybe you): Neighborhoods can be more magical at night. Don't rent an apartment without seeing what it looks like after dark.

Emily and I found this street biking home from Rittenhouse Square the other night. The picture says nothing about what it's really like, but I said "Wow!" and stopped quick and Emily was mesmerized and we had a mini collision. If I were planning to stay in Philadelphia for longer, I would like to live here.

Tying the Knot

2010-08-05T11:56:00.001-04:00

Learn to make skinny ties out of regular ties. See the full post on autostraddle.com.

Whack-a-mole/Guacamole

2010-08-04T01:28:00.006-04:00

Last week, my computer crashed and I was face with the daunting tasking of filling up my time, prairie style. Luckily, I haven't touched any of my Christmas books since they were given to me due to the lure of the Internet and so I had 3 brand new books batting their eyelashes at me.
Since I'd been spending most of my computer time either being a professional lesbian or a a future professional housewife (this is only sort-of true, I also spend a lot of time researching linguistics programs and making myself panic about grad school so that I don't end up on Wisteria Lane), I pulled out this 844-page baby. So far, I've learned that mead is fermented honey-water (yum), that fruits and vegetables don't have to turn brown when you cut them, and that Henry David Thoreau had nice things to say about popcorn.

"I have been popping corn to-night, which is only a more rapid blossoming of the seed under a great than July heat. The popped corn is a perfect winter flower, hinting of anemones and houstonians...By my warm heath sprang these cerealious blossoms, here was the bank where they grew"

But let's go back to keeping green vegetables green. Guacamole is my passion. I had it for the first time last summer (I know. I had sushi for the first time a month ago and tried my first soup--gazpacho--last week.) and never looked back. It's easy to make; cheap (holla 10/$10); and, regardless of how much you want to tell me that avocados are mostly fat, it's a green vegetable. Sometimes when I go home to visit my family, I spend time telling my grandparents new foods that I've eaten. "Red peppers!" I'll tell them, "Broccoli!" "Peaches!" "Crab!" and they're very proud. Despite having traveled all over the world, though, they insist on calling tortillas "tor-til-lee-yahs" and guacamole "guac-a-mol." They also exclusively call each other "dear" and my grandpa introduces my grandma as "my wife" instead of her name so much that once her friend addressed her birthday card "to my wife." This is a completely digression that I'm only including to point out that I used to think that the arcade game whack-a-mole had something to do with chips and dip.

Like any warm-blooded man, I like to come home from work to find dinner ready on the table. Just kidding, my girlfriend lives in Canada and I don't have a table. So I like to come home and have snacks waiting patiently in my fridge. Unfortunately, guacamole has a tendency to turn blackish-brown after a few hours and, while the taste doesn't change so much, the texture isn't quite the same and the color can be hard to get past. But guys, Harold McGee has all the answers and I'm about to break it down for you.

Q: Where did the avocado get its name?
A: "The name comes from the Nahuatl word ahuacatl, which was apparently inspired by the fruit's pear-like shape and irregular surface; it means 'testicle.'" (page 337)

Q: The avocados at the grocery store are never ripe but I want guacamole NOW. What do I do?
A: "Ripening can be accelerated by enclosing the fruit in a paper bag with an ethylene-emitting banana. If these warm-climate fruits are refrigerated while unripe, their cellular machinery is damaged and they will never ripen; once ripe, however, they can be refrigerated for several days and retain their quality" (page 337)

Q: What makes guacamole turn brown?
A: Guacamole is a puree. "We make purees by applying enough physical force to rush the tissue, break apart and open its cells, and mix cell innards with fragments of the cell's walls." "Many fruits and vegetables...quickly develop a brown, red, or gray discoloration wen cut or bruised. This discoloration is caused by three chemical ingredients: 1- and 2-ring phenolic compounds, certain plant enzymes, and oxygen. In the intact fruit or vegetable, the phenolic compounds are kept in the storage vacuole, the enzymes in the surrounding cytoplasm. When the cell structure is damaged and the phenolics are mixed with enzymes and oxygen, the enzymes oxidize the phenolics, forming molecules that eventually react with each other and bond together into light-absorbing clusters. This system is one of the plant's chemical defenses: when insects or microbes damage its cells, the plant releases phenolics that attack the invaders' own enzymes and membranes." (page 269)

Translation: Cells are basically little bags of stuff with bags of other stuff inside them. You know those glow sticks that you crack and they start glowing because the chemicals start mixing together? Cells are tiny versions of that. Only instead of glowing, they just turn a gross color and try to attack your mouth.

Q: How can you prevent it from changing color?
A: Mr. McGee and I don't agree on this one. Here's what he says: "Avocado flesh is well known for browning rapidly once cut or mashed, a problem that can be remedied by adding an acidic ingredient (often lime juice) or by airtight wrapping with a plastic film that blocks oxygen effectively" (page 337)

But you know what else he says? "The enemy of green: acids," (page 279) then goes how to explain how acids remove tails from chlorophyll a and turn it into chlorophyll b which is an olive brownish color. Acids like lemon or lime juice should be added at the last minute and he advises us to "consider protecting them first with a thin layer of oil" (page 280) Avocados are about 30% oil, so I guess that's helpful.

He recommends blanching green vegetables as "boiling temperatures will destroy the enzyme [that reacts and turns vegetables brown], so cooking will eliminate the problem," and quickly submerging them in a bath of icy water to stop cooking since "high temperatures can encourage phonolic oxidation in the absence of enzymes."

This all sounds great and very good stuff for modern jackass so rather than try to figure out what might work, I went ahead and did it. I split my avocado in two, blanched one half, added the same ingredients to both bowls, and came home to see what they looked like, with a couple of taste tests along the way.

On the left is the unblanched avocado. On the right is the blanched one. I lost a few flecks of avocado to the boiling water, but it's looking mighty green. Mr. Food said that vegetables appear to turn a brighter green after a few seconds in boiling water because of a "sudden explansion and escape of gasses trapped in the spaces between cells. Ordinarily, these microscopic air pockets cloud the color of the chloroplasts. When they collapse, we can see the pigments much more directly." (page 279) We're going to be breaking cells open in a minute so it shouldn't matter, but it's nice to look at for the moment, isn't it?

They look pretty much the same at this point. I like to add onions, garlic, salt, lime, tomatoes if I have then, and cilantro to my guacamole but I'm down for new ideas. Even after putting the boiled avocado in an ice bath, it didn't cool down completely so the guacamole was weirdly warm and slightly more bland.

After 7 hours at work, this is what I came home to find in my fridge. I thought the blanched guacamole tasted slightly fresher but that might have just been wishful thinking. The verdict: If you're making a vat of guacamole to serve later and want it to last and stay in the salad days of youth until then, you might want to consider boiling your avocados before mashing them. If you're looking for a quick snack, it's definitely not worth the extra time.

Sometimes I Write Things In Other Places

2010-08-01T23:40:00.006-04:00

Mostly at Autostraddle, although occasionally things I say make guest appearances over at Emily's blog (Do you read it? She's cutesmartandfunny. Especially here.) when she wants to talk about my areas of expertise. If you happen to be interested, you can learn about a few of my favorite things: silver white winters that melt into springs, girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, and brown paper packages tied up with strings.

this is a post about periods

2010-05-25T23:41:00.014-04:00

my mum and i have this fun monthly tradition that goes like this:

[i call her]
my mum: hello?
me: oh hey.
my mum: are you ok? what's wrong?
me: nothing. [sob]
my mum: are you sure?
me: it's just that i'm so lonely/sad/overwhelmed/upset/worried
my mum: oh honey, i'm sorry, i wish i could hug you.
me: me too. [sob sob sob]
[10 minutes of sobbing and unintelligible crytalking on my end]
my mum: laura--now don't get mad, i'm just asking--are you due to get your period?
me: i am NOT pmsing! can't you just let me have my feelings? i am not ruled by my body!
my mum: ok, ok, i'm just checking.
[more crying ensues, she eventually convinces me that my life is not a joke and everything will be alright]

the following day:
[i call her]
my mum: hey, how're you feeling today?
me: i'm fine. i'm sorry, you were right. i woke up and got my period today. my life isn't entirely in shambles, i guess.

this happens every. single. month. if i just knew when my period was coming, i could avoid this entirely but i've never tracked it so it's a fun surprise every time. i used to think this was just a gay thing because i obviously don't have to worry about getting pregnant but based on ~~empirical research~~ the three people people i've asked so far, there is no correlation. Can i get a witness? just take my survey.

anyway, in an effort to be a grown up woman, i decided two periods ago to start keeping track. i have a google doc that is [aptly] named "period," but it just doesn't inspire the same excitement that i know a menstrual lunar calendar would.

periods are so much more fun when they require special accessories. i would like to thank the following for bringing joy to menstruation.

tampax compact for fitting so nicely in my pocket and not even being ugly.

the diva cup for being entirely inappropriately named but saving me $120 per year.

the person who made tampon stuffed animals for creating something that is irrationally cute.

the museum of menstruation for existing, although their web designer should be shot.

death and all his friends

2010-03-27T17:21:00.008-04:00

things that threaten to destroy my robots:
+water
+power surges
+black holes

things that threaten to destroy me:
+alligators
+not flossing
+vitamin d deficiency/rickets
+reckless drivers
+heart disease
+heartache
+my robots
+black holes

Flowers are weak. They're naive. They reassure themselves whatever way they can. They believe their thorns make them frightening.

2010-03-01T01:52:00.012-05:00

I've been doing interviews for our coulmn on Autostraddle, "I'll Have What She's Wearing," and every time I talk to someone, I've been trying to figure out how much they think about their clothes. Full disclosure: the only reason I wanted to do this feature was so that I'd have a reason to talk to the cute girl who worked in the men's department at Nordstroms, but now my nerdy side has taken over. Hello sociology.

When I get up and go to pick out my clothes [or more realistically, when I pick out my clothes the night before so that I can sleep in longer in the morning], I think, "What am I trying to say today?" I don't mean that I think that my clothes are everything, but I don't even get a chance to talk to most of the people I see every day. When you're in a city, you've only got a few seconds to make an impression on anyone you pass and since we all seem to have this incredible and specifically city loneliness; I'm not that weird for trying to catch someone's eye.

I know I know I know that you can't judge a book by its cover but why can't I communicate what I'm thinking through my body? It's the only thing that I carry around with me everywhere. Like I could never date someone with dirty toes. Maybe you're thinking that I need to get my priorities straight but guess what; I'm neurotic [case-in-point: this entire post is about how I try to control how other people see me] and I like things to be clean and if you don't, we're probs not going to get along and that's fine because everyone's different.

The thing is, I don't even know what I'm trying to tell people.

You could say that I'm trying to say, "I'm gay," but that would be such an oversimplification. That's definitely not the most important things about me or even maybe in the top ten. But I've been figuring out how I fit with the world and a lot of the time, being gay affects that. I get it now when people say they look at things with a queer sensibility; it doesn't mean that it defines me, it's just another pair of 3-D glasses that I can wear. I also think that I'm young and I have raging hormones and I like love and stuff so I spend approximately seventy-five percent of my time thinking about girls [and the other twenty-five percent thinking about me] which means I'm wondering if it means something when you sit with your legs crossed that way or if you walk with a swagger.

When I wear boys' clothes I feel safe. They're big and they hide me and men don't talk to me like that and if a girl likes it then maybe she's fun. Anyone who understands that layers and layers of clothes can be sexy because it's like unwrapping a present is someone I could get down with. I like dresses but them seem to invite too much attention. I mean, there's not really anything wrong with being called "babygirl" by strangers on the street, but sometimes I want to go YOU DON'T KNOW MAH LIFE all over their asses. Or maybe I just wish I could be all smooth hitting on girls like that.

If I wear girls clothes, I don't want to be weak. You know those women in commercials who are really beautiful and have their ish together and everyone watches in awe as they walk down a street? That does not happen in real life. Even women with muscles who look killer in little club things that would look awful on anyone else and who work for the C.I.A. get their faces licked by gross men. Simone and I have been watching a lot of Alias lately.

I JUST WANT TO BE HARD.

I don't want to be unapproachable and scary [which is good because that is something that could never happen], I just want a good balance of don't-fuck-with-me and hello-I'm-nice-let's-be-friends because I'm a Libra and that's how we do. I want balance but like radical balance.

Maybe I'm trying to tell people that I'm here and that I'm moving and I'm thinking. I watch people all the time and look for subtleties, but I know that not everyone reads the world like I do. Maybe it's about how I move and not about how I dress. I hope it's in the way that I walk, with my eyes to the sky instead of looking at the ground because my feet and I have finally grown comfortable with each other. Or in how loud I laugh because when I scream, it's out of joy. I'm going to stop before this turns into a bad version of that poem that they always used to read during morning prayer in high school.

juego de palabras

2010-02-24T22:46:00.005-05:00

galán: a flirt, someone who treats women nicely
galana: fashionable

galán: + galana = galána

precious life

2010-02-19T01:33:00.004-05:00

there’s enough hate on the internet that i don’t feel like i need to contribute to it, but emily’s post from a long time ago about bad poetry reminded me of this little baby. my best friend and i used to read our friends' school's literary magazine when we would sit in the hall between classes and that's when we discovered mark bruce, boy genius. and really, this isn’t about hate. it’s about liking a memory and love for really really bad poems.

+++

.:.Precious Life.:.
Mark Bruce

I really like this Mike-n-Ike,
Yellow, orange, or green.
It seems to last forever
At least that's what it seems.

Large and wholesome when you start,
The candy seems so big,
But quickly it disintegrates.
You don't know where it's been.

Try to enjoy your Mike-n-Ike from the beginning 'til the end
Its gone before you know it.
But just pop one back in.

Life is like a Mike-n-Ike.
You think it lasts forever
Try to appreciate the little things,
If you know this, you're quite clever.

Life and Mike-n-Ikes also have a difference.
When your life is gone, it's gone.
You can always pop in a new candy.
But life is still gone.

+++

can we just talk about what’s obvious: this poem is about mike-n-fucking-ikes. poetry should probably never wade into the shallow depths of chewy candies, but this boy takes it to a whole new level. he’s talking about the temporality of life. keep that in mind, we’ll get back to that.

let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. there's nothing too bad here. nothing too great, either, but there’s really no warning that you’re about read the worst poem ever written. i give him points for being sneaky.

stanza two. um…there’s nothing wholesome about a mike-n-ike. and that whole “you don’t know where it’s been” thing? i do know where it’s been. it’s been in your mouth. that’s why it’s disappearing. but who's counting?

ahh yes, right around here is where he starts pulling out the good stuff. “life is like a mike-n-ike.” sure, dude. it’s like he was just chillaxin' with some candy and his friend came over and was all, “so did you finished your meditation-on-the-meaning-of-life poem for english class?” and he went, “shit i forgot” and then was like, “oh look, i’m eating a mike-n-ike, maybe i should just write a poem about it.”

last and probably least: “life and mike-n-ikes also have a difference.” OH REALLY? time to get out the bongo drums: “When your life is gone, [beat] it’s gone. [beat] you can always pop in a new candy. [beat] but life [beat] is still gone.” [beatbeatbeatbeat]

ten things i am thinking about right now

2010-02-14T18:41:00.003-05:00

+i can hear bells right now from the church up the street. i wonder if it's just for today or if i'm usually being loud everyday at six.

+for the past month i've had 2-3 dreams every week about fighting voldemort.

+i want to live in a room with a window that faces south forever. i get so much light in here during the day that i can lie on the floor and pretend it's june. today i wore my stunna shades while i worked because i can't wait for summer.

+how have i managed to go to school for three years and never had a planner? that was the best three dollars i ever spent.

+living with someone else's dog is hard sometimes. i wish i had mine here, but i don't think i'm very responsible. i'm trying to nurse me basil plant back to health, but i just keep eating it. blerg.

+i rediscovered my white noise machine last week.

+Maybe I should act more grown up and start capitalizing words when they should be capitalized.

+lynne had an extra tegan and sara ticket so i get to go! that was a good surprise.

+do you know that i lived for two entire weeks without a computer?

+i want to go to spain next year a lot so maybe i should put plans in my planner and get that ball rolling.

more wordplay

2010-02-03T19:01:00.002-05:00

please circle the words that best apply.

ascetic
aesthetic

lightening
lightning

scents
sense
cents

woah
woe

conscience
conscious

whine
wine

flour
flower

all's well that ends well
all's well that ends swell

verses
versus

pore
poor
pour

accept
except

illusion
allusion

teas
tease
tees

stationary
stationery

sew
so
sow

wordplay

2009-12-28T02:34:00.001-05:00

awed v. odd

[ok, so i don't like coffee. but i like the idea of it.]

2009-12-06T22:04:00.002-05:00

i couldn't stand being a passing fancy. before i give my body, i must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. and you weren't having any of those.

2009-11-13T21:59:00.002-05:00

do you know that i only rushed that one time? i rushed and then i panicked because i hear that i’m a grown up now and i had be rough when really all i am is melting.

so i stopped. here i am; i am not jumping.

what could i do? there are lots of things i’d like. to stop battling all the eyelashes, to start. i’d like to have somewhere to put all the pretty words i could write for you. your ears might be a good place to empty what i have stored up in my head. maybe it would find its way in before you start running away.

i could fold up into you and be warm all night and i’d even stay longer if you let me.

we could sit in front of my paper fire and pretend like the heat is real because we’re both stuck in the city and it’s making us tear apart. or i could trap you on my roof. i’ll force you to be romantic and then scream at you like the wind is glaring at me. i might cry so you know how i am.

i confuse everything that’s easy about the earth for subtlety when things aren’t going my way. it’s just because winter is tragic and if i can’t have what i want, i’ll join the quiet and take devastation for depth.

right now i’m a puddle. i’m shivering and worried that i can’t do words like i can’t do people and if they both escape you, what do you have?

i think i’m just making up loves for my room because it’s here and my hands are alone.

stars out my window

2009-10-12T23:32:00.009-04:00

in an effort to get back on top of my ish blog-wise, i'm taking a queue from achtung baby !

i'm hot. stop talking.

2009-08-22T00:39:00.011-04:00

emily/saintmodesto talks feelings like nobody else. here's a smattering [if you will] of pretty words that came right out of her little head/heart/fingertips:

+"My heart is big and I am small."

+"I thought that I was the loneliest person on the planet

then I started listening to other people and realized they're all lonely too and I thought it was strange that everyone is the loneliest person on earth so why can't we be more kind"

+"I love you like a character in a book,

one who will never change because your soul

is pressed forever in the pages, but

will also grow as I grow"

i know. and she takes photos too.

anyway, while we were in new york last weekend, it was too hot to move so i was looking at this and then we drew some pictures. highlights include tegan and sara, robot sex, and stephen dunn so click click click to see it big.

now you're lit up by the city

2009-08-04T00:04:00.004-04:00

this is how i start everything; i’m apprehensive. it’s been more than a month and my thoughts come slow, slow.

i don’t always say things with the intensity that i mean them. i tell stories better face-to-face; in real life, i’ve got my hands and my eyebrows to move around when the right words are lost somewhere down in my knees, afraid to be pulled up into my heart or even my stomach.

but this is a story. all i can write is my thoughts so sink your eyes into the words and then, face-to-screen-to-screen-to-face, maybe we’ll connect.

that’s how we did it. for some of us, it started with riese’s words. all of us voyeurs, we saw our thoughts staring us in the face more beautifully than we could have ever thought them. i read people as much as books and here were both wrapped up together.

it was words and words and words and then an explosion.

there was that part at the beginning where all my nerves were racing around—and not just in my head, my whole body was feeling it. at first i felt little, like i’d have to shout to be seen. but instead, we just settled into ourselves. unseen sparks of something sinking in, my skin was tingling like laughing or like drinking, which we did a lot.

between the incredible chaos, i liked when we walked back to our hotel and didn’t say anything, because breathing is nice sometimes, too.

with alcohol on your side, who can say what’s true? the weekend was quick and so sweet and it wasn’t real life. but here’s the best part: it was real life. every second actually happened.

then the morning came and we woke up anticipating instant nostalgia but instead were filled with a different emptiness. it doesn’t make sense to mourn a beginning. i’m finding out where my holes are and realizing that what we’re making is easing the hollow feeling.

a thousand reason why it might have happened but none as important as the fact that it had

2009-07-02T20:57:00.005-04:00

i have a lot of thoughts about this right now, but my eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen for so long. more to come soooooon.

this is just to say

2009-06-19T01:20:00.001-04:00

+i have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

[william carlos williams]

+a ransom note for the survival of your snacks

i ate all your granola bars
that right: all of them

they were pretty bangin’
and you were making me mad

pick up your phone next time

[laura wooley]

+this american life: act two

+and now for a game

dear readers: who are you? what do you eat for breakfast? do you hold your breath when you pass cemeteries? have you ever caught a fish?

you don’t even have to tell me your name, you can just answer my questions and this website will make one up for you. or, if you’re feeling fancy, you can get a taxi driver name, a british name, a pokemon name, a ninja name, or a triceratops name.

i have no words for this

2009-06-15T03:19:00.010-04:00

"read a fucking book": notes from me to me

2009-06-12T19:53:00.015-04:00

it's a well known fact that i--like a lot of other people--love lists. right now, i've got about 14 going. here's a sampling of items from my notes:

+smart start healthy heart

[list: go to the grocery store, please]

i woke up yesterday craving this stuff. do they even make it anymore?

+graveyard at 4th and pine

[list: summerrrr]

i think cemeteries are kind of awesome in a totally non-creepy [cause i'm terrified of almost everything] romantic sort of way. i found this one while i was walking around a few weeks ago, but i've got to go back because it was raining and too muddy to go in.

+read a fucking book

[list: things to do immediately]

even though it's summer so i've got no assigned reading and could get any book i could possibly want from my school's library, i haven't read anything for fun in ages.

+"you're still in the way that i move, when nobody's watching"

[list: nice words]

misheard lyrics from "stay awake" by lydia. i think the real words are "you're still in the way that i think nobody's watching" but i like mine better.

+save jon and kate's marriage

[list: summerrrr]

no explanation needed. someone needs to do it; it might as well be us.

+get a new wallet

[list: things to do immediately]

i did this! i made one! my old wallet must have been designed by a toddler or someone who only uses credit cards or something because it wasn't even big enough to hold dolla dolla bills.

speaking of wallets, check out my license photo. 2003 was such a sexy year.

+lipstick

[list: things to buy]

i don't remember writing this down, but it might be kind of fun to have.

+trading places by usher

[list: songs to learn]

the comedic value of being able to play this song on my guitar is out of control.

+bilingual edition of aura

[list: books]

i lazily picked this book for a project for my spanish class since it was my name minus one letter, but i ended up devouring it. it's told in second person and it's a ghost story that's sort of like beloved and it's beautiful.

i'm getting tired, i'm forgetting why

2009-06-05T02:06:00.004-04:00

nothing is lonelier than living alone.

i like the contentment of coming home to a house with life in it. and maybe some love, too.

and i like the vulnerability that comes with budding familiarity, but i’ve got all the wrong kinds of uncertainty.

i’m watering my plants to see growth, eating to feel full.

everything breaks my heart and at the same time, nothing at all...at least not in the way i want it to. when i feel it all but can’t find the worth, i’ll remember just how small i am.

sometimes there’s safety in being so young. i want to be precocious forever, sassing grownups into taking me seriously.

do i really have to put up with being told to just relax when something’s not alright? isn’t that what they say when there’re so many of them? they’ll talk me down to themselves and to their friends and then to me.

i try so hard to get roughed up.

i fight back with words, but shudder realizing how real the frenzy can become. no one would beat up a kid. except, probably, another kid, a bigger one, you know?

there’s so little vindication in growing up to see the fights you thought we’d forget happen again.

i’m worried that all this loneliness is slowing me down. i’ll be prufrock minus the poetry, letting time bustle by without me.

my grandma said when you’re old, you can either be invisible or crazy. i’ll do anything to avoid more desolation. i’ve got to get out.

living in a house with windows that are glued shut is just a little too symbolic for my liking.

the world is a really big place

2009-05-23T02:03:00.004-04:00

it's infographic time!

obviously, if everyone lived in texas, there wouldn't be enough resources, people would be cranky from living so close to each other, we would all say "ya'll" all the time, etc. BUT this is just texas, there's the entire rest of the world!

this is the result of a leftover thought from one of my sociology teachers last semester. when a boy in my class said we couldn't let any more immigrants in to the u.s. because we were too full, she said she'd just read that the entire population of world could fit in texas and that maybe he should think about it some more. it seemed kind of hard to believe, but it turns out that it works. and as a sidenote, i'm not really sure what this information really means or has to do with, i just know that i think it's fascinating.

paper-cutting olympics

2009-04-29T17:34:00.010-04:00

fireside chat

2009-04-18T21:50:00.007-04:00

first of all, last night i was riding home on my bike and heard some girls on the sidewalk talking about a cute boy. like any good gay lady, i turned around to check him out, but didn't see anybody else on the street. then one of them was all "look at his helmet," and i was like "oh they're talking about me." huh? i don't look anything like a boy. not even at 15 mph.

second, this guy's taken about two weeks to get up--half because dani and i had to finish editing it and half because my computer was in a fight with me. i went to the tech center to get help and the first thing they did was ask for my student id and password. which is when i remembered that i really couldn't tell anyone my password. because it was 'african queen.' keeping in mind that i am tiny, white, and was recently called a 'cute boy,' you can imagine how ridiculous/probs racist that would have sounded.

just to clarify [sort of], the reason it was african queen was because i got a reminder e-mail about changing my password while i was listening to this:

and in a moment of idiocy, thought it would be a really good idea to make it my password. what can i say? i love this song.

aynway, i told them i couldn't remember it and ran away before they could go online to look it up for me. i changed my password, fixed my computer, and we finished our video. we tried so hard[ish] but couldn't get it under 10 minutes and our audio still blows, so turn it up allllll the way.

now my feet won't touch the ground

2009-04-07T01:32:00.008-04:00

i feel like i have ten million possibilities in my veins and nowhere for my fingertips to reach yet. like roots that would grow, maybe, from a little beating heart seed that's just waiting. with air like this who can sit still? my honey nights are gone with the winter.

pull my hair, twist my arm, push me, tangle me up in angry words or in lusty sheets. engage me.

now my blood is thick against the dusk. i’m tasting iron in my throat, swallowing all my words while i run from the soil. am i flying from the ground or into a swarm? can i have both? i’m not rushing anywhere except to begin.

oh hey, sweet fixie

2009-03-27T00:34:00.013-04:00

do you see these bikers? look at how colorful they are, look at how colorful the road

is. it's like they're riding on a rainbow. i bet if we could see their faces they would be smiling like little balls of sunshine [because this is a picture. in real life, they would probs be panting and breathing like nerdboys because they are tired [i.e. me] or making judgmental faces at people driving, people walking, people sitting, animals sitting, inanimate objects sitting, life [i.e. bike hipsters]]. [i wish i knew the rules for punctuation and brackets. i think the rule is actually "learn to write better so you don't have to use brackets," but that's not really realistic, you know?] they would be smiling because they are the proud new mums and dads of studio gelardi's contrail.

the tool clips onto your bike frame and leaves a trail of chalk behind you as you ride. as more bikers ride in an area, the bike path builds up, letting other bikers know where it's safe to ride and alerting cars to presence of bikes. it looks like it's just a concept design right now, but i'm hoping it'll be produced sometime soon.

having never ridden in a city before, i waited three months before finally feeling brave enough to go down to center city on my bike. i had no idea how to navigate one-way streets [i still don't, are you supposed to ride on the right or the left?] or what streets were good to ride on and most of the bike kids i knew or talked to were more interested in being obnoxious experts than being helpful. being able to see where other people ride might make biking seem less daunting and encourage other people to try it.

also, seeing colorful paths on road might make my number one enemy*, cars, realize that all those "share the road signs" are not just a suggestion. and that no matter how much you honk and curse at me, i will not bike on the sidewalk because it is a] impossible and b] illegal.

and if you don't bike or aren't always narrowly escaping death by car, just think about how pretty it is. if you were walking and saw chalk lines all over the street, you would smile like the bikers in the picture are probably smiling. and it would be like christmas, only in the summer, which is like australia. "summer heights high" is in australia and is a fantastic show that would make you smile too.

i've just re-read this and it's like a second grade persuasive essay titled "the world is a better place when you've got sparkly streets." great.

in a similar non-destructive-graffiti-things-that-belong-in-some-"stuff-white-people-like"-category vein, i saw these led throwies on instructables and fell in love with them a little bit because they're nerdy and crafty. i want to go out and play with them but the problem is i can't think of any magnetic buildings and they seem like an expensive-ish project with all the tiny batteries and lights and magnets. my mum sent me a package of glow sticks [and rice. ?.] the other day, though, so i think those are just going to have to do for now.

*i actually love cars, i'm just jealous of them.

dinner and deserts [not sic]

2009-03-23T19:29:00.010-04:00

i finally decided what to do with the notebook that my aunt sent me for my birthday [in october] today. if you're like me, 5 months is a good amount of time to spend figuring out what to write in a cute book. since i'm always leaving my recipe cards to fade in the kitchen window, i thought it would be a good idea to write all my recipes in a book too. in celebration of my pretty, covered-in-birds-chirping-and-spring-happening notebook filled with food, i am giving you a recipe for pizza dough. it's really easy, you just need to plan a few hours early so the dough will have time to rise.

+1 pack [2 1/4 teaspoons] of fast-acting yeast

+2 tablespoons of sugar

+1 cup of warm water

the water should be warm enough so that the yeast can grow but not so hot that it kills the little guys. if you turn on the faucet and wait until the water feels as warm as your hands, that's about perfect. mix the water, sugar, and yeast with a fork as well as your can, but don't worry about trying to get the yeast to dissolve--it won't. after about ten minutes, there should be light brown bubbles on the surface. if there aren't, stir it up again and wait a little longer, if there are, go on to the rest.

+1/3 cup of olive oil

+3-4 cups of flour

add the olive oil to the water-sugar-yeast mixture, stir it, and then start adding the flour. it's better to start with 2 1/2 cups and add more if you need it, because adding too much flour will make the dough dry and tough. if you've got a kitchenaid, you probably know what you're doing and shouldn't be listening to me, if you don't, use your hands to mix. the dough should be shiny, elastic-y [but don't play with it too much! it won't rise as well], and still sort of sticky when it's right; just make sure you stop adding flour before it starts looking like cookie dough. get another bowl, grease the sides, put your dough in it, cover the bowl with a cloth, and put it somewhere warm like a window, an oven [not turned on, obvs, although i've done that before and accidentally cooked a lump of dough], your fire escape, or your front steps. let it rise for an hour, punch it down, turn it over, and let it rise for another hour.

while you're waiting for it to rise, think about sand. why does it exist and what is it made out of? i mean, i mostly understand the sand in oceans [rocks & shells + water = erosion], but what about the sand that's in deserts? my mum said she thinks it's there from when deserts were covered by water, but that was a long time ago, shouldn't the wind have scattered it by now? once you've figured it out, let me know. for real. i've been looking online and can't find anything about sand formation.

kaythanks, back to pizza: if you're really really in a hurry, you don't have to let it rise twice and you can cook it after the first hour, but your pizza won't be as good because you were an impatient 5-year-old [and also because the dough won't have time to develop it's flavor]. grease a pan and use cornmeal if you have it, roll out your dough, decorate your pizza, then cook it for about 13 minutes at 425F.

today, i am cranky

2009-03-23T00:08:00.019-04:00

my life is a joke: a story with visual aids

+my hammer: my apartment key mysteriously bent in a dancing extravaganza a few weeks ago. it’s mysterious because they were attached to my waist when it happened and i don’t think i weigh/am strong enough to smash metal. know who is strong enough to bend metal? lights. check out this girl's arms: PHWOARRR. [photo credit: maureen spier] anyway, i found a hammer and banged my key back into shape [ish], but apparently bending w

eakened the metal because the key keeps changing shape every time i go to get into my house. which means now i have to carry a hammer around with me so i can force my key into the lock. not a big deal when i have a backpack or whatever, but not so cool when i’m just carrying it around.

+the stepstool: i’m short [5’3”]. my roommate’s shorter [4’10”]. we can’t reach anything. ever.

+my helmet: my bike is my pride and joy

because i spent all summer making it myself.

even though i can take a bike apart and put it

back together, i don’t have tools yet, so it keeps

breaking little by little and i can’t fix it. also, philadelphia is supposed to be a bike-friendly city, but cars here treat bikes lanes as passing lanes and seem to think it’s acceptable to honk at bikes to let them know that they’ve decided to drive in the bike lane and that going to run into them but not actually make any effort to avoid hitting the bike. 2 ton car v. me [on a bike with brakes that aren’t reliable] = i wear a helmet

+my leggings: i refuse to go outside

without at least 65 layers of clothing on between october and march.

winter seems to be especially never-ending this year, but i’ve found a solution: thermal pants. they’re like a tank top for your legs, only infinitely less sexy.

+this window: my walls are absolutely dwarfing, and seem even bigger when i’m alone. in unrelated news, i can almost name all the duggar children. i need a job.

+my license: last time i was in ohio, i went to wal-mart to buy rubber cement so i could finish my art homework. when i went to check out, the cashier told me she needed my id because you have to be over 15 [FIFTEEN!] to buy rubber cement. i gave her my 2 half-licenses and she told me they weren’t legal and wouldn’t let me buy the rubber cement. there are so many problems with is: a] i am 20 not 15. b] are they seriously worried about huffing? um, guess what? huffing’s like unicorns, it’s like tss, it’s not real.

later that night, we did a super-unscientific study grandma’s table about huffing and 0/19 people knew anyone who had ever actually huffed. if i’d bought, like, rubber cement and brown paper bags, i guess i would have understood why the cashier was so adamant, but i was buying paper, an x-acto knife, and rubber cement, so come on. c] i used the same id to get on a plane but they wouldn’t let me use it at wal-mart. sorry to rain on your parade, cashier girl, but you’re not keeping anyone safe by not letting me use my license, you’re just being obnoxious. d] it’s wal-mart, what did i expect? last time i was there, i was talking about how there’s no tax on clothes in pennsylvania with my mum and the cashier told me it was because they grew the cotton and made them there. which is obviously not even a little bit true.

maybe maybe

2009-03-17T16:21:00.014-04:00

CAPO 3

VERSE:

Am C

|---------------|---------------|
|--------1------|--------1------|
|----2----------|----0----------| x8
|------2----x4--|------2----x4--|
|--0------------|--3------------|
|---------------|---------------|
cutting belts and magazines
and things you'll never need
the mirrors in you room at night
and skies that never fold
you're sorry that it matters more
but who would ever tell
i know you need to stay above
but i swore i swore i swore

CHORUS:

C G
|---------------|---------------|
|--------1------|--------3------|
|----0----------|----0----------| x6
|------2----x4--|------0----x4--|
|--3------------|---------------|
|---------------|--3------------|
it's all over your eyes
there's nothing you can do
i'm coming out my skin tonight
so tell me if you're ready or no
i'm tired of living out a lie
sitting here watching things flying by me

Am C
|---------------|---------------|
|--------1------|--------1------|
|----2----------|----2----------| x3
|------2----x4--|------0----x4--|
|--0------------|--3------------|
|---------------|---------------|
and maybe maybe
you're gonna save me
maybe maybe
G
|---------------|
|--------3------|
|----0----------|
|------0----x8--|
|--3------------|
|---------------|
but i don't know
Am C
|---------------|---------------|
|--------1------|--------1------|
|----2----------|----2----------|
|------2----x4--|------0----x4--|
|--0------------|--3------------|
|---------------|---------------|
i don't think so

VERSE
last night i woke up cold
and i walked right out into the dark
and eight-hundred reasons why
kept flying into my eyes
wish i could say that i killed them dead
but they're just much bigger than i

CHORUS

shirts!

2009-03-16T21:35:00.010-04:00

a lone ranger:

[pretend like it's in black and white on a green shirt]

rabbit, rabbit, rabbit

2009-03-01T17:55:00.000-05:00

modern art, a cover, and words

2009-02-26T20:36:00.019-05:00

i. one of these things is not like the other

did you miss it?

this was the best placard i found in the whole museum when i was at the met last weekend. it's for this piece:

i have a lot of thoughts about modern art, but i also checked out during the second semester of art history when i decided that debating what can be counted as art is not going to stop wars or feed people. not that i think learning spanish will do either of those things, but the people in those classes don't ask the teacher idiotic questions like "can you comment on the influence of art on popular children's films such as the use of figures from ancient grecian urns in disney's hercules?"

ii. "i'm sure there's something in a shade of grey"
craig owens: anna begins [counting crows cover]

iii. a glossary of my homes so far

i’ve lived in three different cities—pittsburgh, cincinnati, and philadelphia. get ready, there are a lot of quotation marks coming at you.

+eggs: while i was going the met, i ate breakfast with a girl who ordered bubble eggs, which confused me and the guy who worked there, until i realized she meant dippy eggs, which confused the non-english-speaking waiter even more. after a lot of explaining and hand motions, he told us that we were looking for huevos estrellados, volteados, pero no muy fritos. oh, of course. and thanks to the man at the table next to ours, i now know the normal word for these is “over-easy” eggs.

+jawn: hand down the best word ever. i don’t actually think it exists anywhere outside philadelphia. it mostly means thing, but can also be used to talk about a girl [never a boy]. i.e. are you going to his party jawn tonight?, check out that hot jawn over there, give me that jawn, what’s that jawn called?, let me get two of those jawny jawns. you can’t go wrong with this one.

+mum: i used to be able to call my mum “mama,” but now it just feels weird since that’s what i call everyone else. if i ever manage to find a job, i can see this being a problem since i am the queen of ending up in awkward situations. like, i’ll be working in a restaurant and i’ll have two girls at my table and obviously one will be big and one will be really little and i’ll go to take their order and the little one will say “you go first, mama” and i’ll get her order and then be all “what can i get for your daughter?” and they’ll look at me like an idiot and i’ll realize what i did and my face’ll get all red and i’ll start laughing too much and then scamper away. that’s what’ll happen. [ps did you know that the word for “mother” begins with “m” in almost every language? the “m” sound is one of the first sounds that babies learn to make and so the mum hears her baby and says “look, she’s saying my name!” talk about desperate, mums. [jk, mums are the best!]] [pps what do you call your mum?]

+nebby: pittsburghese for nosey. i think this one is cute.

+please: people in cincinnati say “please” when they don’t understand what you’re saying, causing non-cincinnati people to ask “please what?” this is apparently left over from all the germans who immigrated to the city. i’ve never really gone for the whole “please” thing; i like “what” or “sorry,” which i pronounce so that it rhymes with “gory.” i also do borrow, tomorrow, worry, and horrible with long “o”s. lots people from jersey say “harrible” [huh?] and everybody from philadelphia says “woo-der” for water [huh? x2].

+slippy: when it snows and it’s hard to walk outside, it’s slippy. you might say “no, it’s slippery,” but you would be wrong, stop adding extra ers. i think this is a pittsburgh thing.

+soldiers: soldiers are you have when you cut your toast into stripes so you can dip it into your dippy egg. i’ve never met anyone else who eats their toast like this or knows the word “soldiers” except for my grandma and the rest of my family.

+with: philadelphians are not fond of their prepositions. coming from a place where people like prepositions so much that they tend to just throw them in at the end of sentences for kicks ["where are you going to?" and so on], this is strange. people here are not “done with work,” they are “done work.” they will call you when they are “done class.” wtf philadelphia?

+yinz: second person plural! this is the pittsburgh alternative to y’all.

+yo: yo is one of my favorite words, mostly because i didn’t think real people used it until i moved to illadelphia. i remember laughing in 7th grade when i had to read dialogue that started with “yo” out loud from a book because the word felt so weird in my mouth. now i know that “yo” is a fantastic way to get someone’s attention, answer the phone, or just use to start a sentence.

what words do you have from where you live?

did you really think you could just put it in the safe behind the painting?

2009-02-22T01:47:00.011-05:00

i’m stuck in a room full of half-thought thoughts; they stack up like boxes that need sorted and my room just gets smaller.

you know that feeling? being trapped by quiet? it’s not a good silence, it’s an empty kind, but one that feels distinctly solid in some way. you can’t trust it. the density weighs down on you and you can’t understand why. everywhere else you run, you’re bursting against the sky. but now, in this room, they’ve got you shut in.

i’ll list all the reasons. i’m figuring out why and how and when, so can’t you let go? girl, you’ve got to find some grey or you’ll alienate them all. this drama is tiring, and i can’t deal with the exhaustion; i’m ready to rest.

i wonder what went so wrong. we’ve all done so much damage to each other in games of unfeeling and isolation. we’re dancing around tension, doing anything we can to avoid honest conflict; in its absence, the strain festers and warps until the friction becomes too agonizing to handle. so we give in. we’re doing things we’re not supposed to; willing our sweetness to fade.

right now, i’m so far away from anything close to home, but you’ve got two, maybe three.

my whole world is in black and white; you know what i’m saying. that was one of my favorite things, when you turned ugly things into pretty words. like "grave gardens." you have this way with candy-coated heartbreak, but do you feel it? i’m wearing stitches to show what’s missing, but you? you’re jumping around so your feet won’t get burned. look how easy that makes it to escape; how convenient, then, to have a ready-to-wear apology. are you afraid to admit to it or are you just scared of being the one to lose?

loss is so natural, so common, but it scares me more than anything. when i love things, i want all of them. it's like eating ice cream; even though it makes your teeth too cold and your stomach hurt, you keep eating. it's a horrible and fantastic kind of want because you know that it’ll eventually be gone, but you keep eating because it's the only way to even taste it at all.

instead of loving you less, i’m learning to love you differently. it’s not an active love, or a love of you with me, it’s a love for the pieces i took. somedays, i’ll walk past shades of you, like someone screaming or the sidewalk to your old apartment. and i’m still crying to iron and wine, buried in my bed on cold nights. i’m trying to be calm in the wake of your happiness, but it’s hard when you look through me.

i want out of my head and into the world. i need more noise and less space or something to make my eyes start taking in the color again.

rima xxxviii

2009-02-18T01:16:00.007-05:00

¡los suspiros son aire y van al aire!

¡las lágrimas son agua y van al mar!

dime, mujer, cuando el amor se olvida

¿sabes tú adónde va?

+gustavo adolfo bécquer

[breaths are air and go to air

tears are water and go to the sea

tell me, woman, when love is lost

do you know where is goes?]

the trapeze swinger

2009-02-01T21:46:00.003-05:00

i like...

2009-01-31T19:02:00.011-05:00

drawing people i know as comics.

stomach flu

2009-01-29T01:08:00.010-05:00

um, everyone in philadelphia is sick right now. luckily i got a flu shot so i’m just losing my voice, which ideally will end up being sexy for a few days. we’ll see. i think about the weather a lot when i’m in the city since interaction requires me to actually go out into it and right now it’s being a total fucking dick. like last night, it was doing the really pretty quiet snow thing and i walked home all smiley listening to it being silent. then i woke up this morning and the sidewalks were all slippy and melted and it was raining. come on, weather. stop being a tease.

also, i hate alligators and they are on tv right now in my living room. people are provoking them. oh god. i hate alligators almost as much as i hate rabies.

speaking of alligators, have you seen this video? please watch it.

i am going to make t-shirts with this little guy on it.

incidentally, have you noticed that obama is left handed? i am left handed. i think all left-handed people get secretly excited when they realize someone else is a lefty too. i know i do. why do left handed people die younger than right handed people? why do i get my university’s hillel newletter? do the colors on my blog make it too hard to read? why is the discovery channel now the home shopping network? life is full of questions.

HOMYGOD THEY ARE LETTING ALLIGATORS CHASE THEM. he just said “we’re gonna put on some heavy armor and agitate the alligator to try to get him to chase us.” guess what mythbuster? elbow pads are not exactly what i’d call “heavy armor.” actually, not even close; maybe if you’re five and trying to learn to rollerskate. that motherfucker is going to crush your bones into tiny tiny pieces.

i bought lotion the a few weeks ago that smelled like last winter, but now i don’t even notice it.

isn’t it funny how smells fade into familiarity? and you know how smell is supposed to be the sense that’s most tied to memory? try to describe how something smells. it’s hard. but then, when you talk about how something looks—there are so many words! flat, smooth, small, close, easy, curvy, ugly, young, red, blue, alive. scent escapes language and lurks somewhere back in your head, back where memories are spun.

it’s almost february, too. i’ve been waiting for it since november so i can listen to “february air” while i walk to class because i like songs with specific months and days and times in them.

there’s not really a point here. i think the point is: i would like some bike-friendly weather so that i can go outside and start making sense.

Consider the Hands that Write This Letter

after Marina Wilson
Consider the hands
that write this letter.
The left palm pressed flat against the paper,
as it has done before, over my heart,
in peace or reverence
to the sea or some beautiful thing
I saw once, felt once: snow falling
like rice flung from the giants' wedding,
or the strangest birds. & consider, then,
the right hand, & how it is a fist,
within which a sharpened utensil,
similar to the way I've held a spade,
match to the wick, the horse's reins,
loping, the very fists
I've seen from the roads to Limay & Estelí.
For years, I have come to sit this way:
one hand open, one hand closed,
like a farmer who puts down seeds & gathers up
the food that comes from that farming.
Or, yes, it is like the way I've danced
with my left hand opened around a shoulder
& my right hand closed inside
of another hand. & how
I pray, I pray for this
to be my way: sweet
work alluded to in the body's position
to its paper:
left hand, right hand
like an open eye, an eye closed:
one hand flat against the trapdoor,
the other hand knocking, knocking.

[Aracelis Girmay]

back in business

2009-01-22T13:17:00.006-05:00

this video was brought to you by the letter d with honorable mentions to a, n, and i. additionally, this moment of joy and gay abandon could not have happened without the help of my brother, who gave me moustaches for christmas. thank you, michael. also, i think it's pretty obvious here that the real comedy goddess is dani. whatever, i'm not jealous, i've got other talents, like making pasta and playing dress up. watch us do what we do best and get to know what goes on inside our little heads [nothing].

when did you first realize that planets were smaller than stars? i think i only understood this recently.

2009-01-14T02:31:00.006-05:00

i’ve been here for three weeks, where everything has a place, but i can’t find the big dipper.
when i was tiny, my dad would wake me at that time between late late night and morning [there’s a word for that in spanish, it’s “madrugada.” i like how they have words for things that we have to explain with a whole sentence. it’s like they understand something that i ruin with too many adjectives or too much explanation] to show me the stars. even in the spring it would be cold that early, so he would wrap me up in the afghan his grandma made for us and carry me outside. the streetlights on our road seemed like they were always burnt out; the only thing lighting up the night was the moon right above us and it was changing every night. he’d try to show me orion, but there were too many stars for me to tell where he started or ended. or cassiopeia, because she was a queen and was like our name. but all those stars were too dim from my driveway. so he would hold me on his back with one arm and point with the other at the two pine trees across the street and i would find the constellation between them.

every night since i’ve been back, there’s been so much sky. i look toward the two familiar trees, but i just can’t see the big dipper. i’ve noticed that some of my streetlights have been replaced, lighting up the neighborhood while they mute the skies, but i doubt this newness is what clouds the reminder of my little memory.

stars are ubiquitous; no matter where you go, they’re right there above you. my grandpa taught me this word when i still lived in pittsburgh, and told me that god was ubiquitous.

see? this is safe. i can submerge myself in it without losing everything else. i won’t drown.

last summer, i was worried about the one star that burned weaker than the other six. i know it’s been working so hard for so many years, but i hope it doesn’t fade completely, at least not while i’m still looking at it. i wonder if that is a completely selfish wish. then i wonder if it’s already dead and maybe we’re just seeing leftover light. the message [“goodnight, ladies and gentlemen. thank you for coming to the show.”] hasn’t gotten to us yet.

the thing about night is that you can feel the darkness. it’s like when you see stars from somewhere where nothing else is. with no lights to dim their brilliance, you realize how many there really are, filling in the space in between the ones you see every night. because that only happens when you’re far away from everything else.

and then there’s tying memories to something big, something in the sky that everyone else can taste, if they want to. it’s more universal than having thoughts about books or songs, and no one can talk about it, not if they want it to stay real. you throw a rope up above your head and bind just a speck of yourself to your star. you let your ideas swirl around—they’re there in case someone wants to share with you, but you’re content knowing they’ve been thought.

hang on, sloopy

2009-01-09T16:38:00.019-05:00

ohio has a lot to offer--corn, homogeneity, tomato juice [the state drink], cows, cities that start with the letter c... cincinnati, a world-renowned cultural metropolis, is home to the shaker museum [a religous group who [shockingly] died out a hundred years after they were founded because they didn't believe in procreation], a giant statue of jesus, 98 degrees, lots of sausage [i blame the germans], jerry springer, and is conveniently located near the creation museum.

with so many options, i've obviously opted to hide out in my room most of the time i've been home, emerging every few days to eat a buckeye or go to the library. [the library here is fantastic, seriously. they have everything your little heart could ever want and if they don't have it, they will buy it for you. also, the girls who work there are occasionally cute and always nerdy, so i can impress them with my library-card-number-memorization skills. 4054550, bitches.]

my friends who are home for christmas are hermits too, but sometimes we get adventurous and go out into the cold to spend qsbt* together. all i've wanted to do is dance so i've been suggesting that we join the rest of civilization and learn the "single ladies" dance or find my friend isabella's "darren's dance grooves" tape but instead we've mostly just played the youtube game. everyone who needs more dolla bills in their life knows that the best thing to do with your friends is play the youtube game. you go to their house and show them videos that you like and they show you their favorites and even though you both realize how pathetic this is, no one has to pay money and so you're pretty happy. isabella brought this genius video to my attention the other day while we were being poor together.

i come from a "not scrabble" family. this is mostly because we prefer the smack of violence over intellect. we have a talent for turning any nice family game into an argument and can make you feel inadequate and judged no matter what we're playing. card games mean long, cruel stares at the player who takes longer than three seconds to play and scattergories usually results in yelling and someone going home mad.

in other news, my dog is in heat [ew] and has to wear a diaper and my mum asked me the other day if i have penis envy. t-minus 11 days until i get to go back to philadelphia, thank baby jesus.

*qsbt = quality sober bonding time. this one comes from my friend dani aka daniela aka donatello peepmichaelangelo aka petemike. dani is also famous for being 14, emo, loving dolphins, stripes, and josh, and also being a secret gay.

flurry fury

2008-12-19T00:45:00.018-05:00

i am flying away to cincinnati on saturday and i am so excited my head is going to explode. i am even convinced that the flight is going to be fantastic.

[this is mostly because the last flight i took was like a tiny version of hell, so this time will definitely be an improvement. besides sitting in the

airport for 6 hours after my flight was delayed, i got stopped by the tsa guys because i was carrying a space heater in my bag. they were convinced it was a bomb, [which, if i’m going to be honest, isn’t really a bad assumption; it’s older than me, makes ticking noises, and sparks sometimes] and so they decided that it would be a good idea to take everything out of my suitcase and question me about the heater for about a year. also, the person in front of me was the crankiest old woman alive. the little boy sitting next to me touched her seat a few time and she kept slapping him. at first i thought maybe he just had an abusive grandma or something, but then they weren’t related and she was just mean.]

going to cincinnati means seeing stars, reading real books without feeling guilty about not doing homework, spooning with my dog, and playing cards with my

grandma. and it’s christmas which is especially exciting because i really like wrapping presents. [ps if anyone wants to know what to wrap for me, i would like cowboy boots, a flu shot, paris je t’aime, a shamwow, and some new songs to love.]

This Winter

I suppose, with the wind and rain outside, and more to come, we’ve cocooned with blankets, warm fires. I suppose, like the change of season, freezing cold, instead of sun, inward, instead of outward, the season of that endless war, killer hurricanes, loved ones lost, I’ll just turn the page, start over.

I’ve often wondered if I’m a winter writer, rather than summer. Throw on thick sweaters, coats, gloves and trek high up the mountain to my tower, to “bear” for winter. One small, frosty window to look out. “Countless tales,” I write in my journal shivering, “layers of rain, snow, and wind, to overcome.”

It is this imagination that binds. Pen in hand, fingers spread evenly on a keyboard. Wipe the frost, find the pulse. Tell them what ails, or inspires. Reveal the colors, be it agony, intense and miserably cold, or thoughts of romance, desires, engulfed or enflamed by simple candlelight. Set the temperature and tone, open the page, begin.

I suppose, from my mountain view, the lights below, mere weeks before Christmas, that I’ve got something significant to share. A vast landscape, glistening jewels of light, smoke billowing from thousands of chimneys. Don’t know, can’t tell yet. Maybe nothing.

I stroke my long beard, smoke my pipe, pull the flaps of my hat lower. We are, the words of every season, all of us, to our last breath, touching hearts and souls, scribbling blindly, breathlessly, designing, building, hunkering down.

But all is silent, save the wind, howling at my back.

Look, tell them of the pain of death, so recently endured, what my eyes have seen, tortured, beaten, abused. Tell them of flying high above the fray, a view so magnificent, it begs to say, to express, to share. Create an unforgettable character, that mighty hero of mind and heart that gives, saves, knows all. One who carries us to that tearful page of victory. Lie down here, another blanket to keep warm.

I suppose, there is no greatness, not now, perhaps later, but we trudge through, press on. Every day, every season, different.

High above the howling storm, frost on my beard, eyes searching wanefully to heartfelt losses, human touch. Seasons that follow, lead, churn deeply. Imagination does not go cold. Or does it? Here, take this pen, write it. Eyes, alive and moving beyond the snow, conjuring winters across the ridge, snowflakes dreamily to the page.

We’re not gone, only adjusting, acclimating, different sights and sounds, binding. Takes time to see, peel the layers, undress. There is nothing to say, not yet, the world at our feet.

“Countless tales,” I write, “layers of snow and wind, to overcome.”

[Charles Mariano]

work in progress x3

2008-12-16T12:36:00.005-05:00

is it possible for sound to make a heart bend?

2008-12-10T23:20:00.014-05:00

i like these songs a lot a lot. but in that way that it kind of hurts, you know? they sound like memories and comfort and love and being cold. they feel like blankets; sometimes too much, but usually they're cozy. they let you drown in everything you hear. and then there are words, which say exactly what you were thinking but better than you ever could.

there are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all
winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
but my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns
naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

[ ]

a piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret

we liked to watch you laughing
picking insects off of plants
no time to think of consequences

you tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in

i wanted to thank you for a vision that was lost that you returned
but you're past where you understand

i've got nostalgic pavements

i will love this love forever

i was of three [or four] minds

2008-12-06T22:47:00.019-05:00

xiii
it was evening all afternoon.
it was snowing
and it was going to snow.
the blackbird sat
in the cedar-limbs.

[wallace stevens: 13 ways of looking at a blackbird]

1: winter means being cold

sometimes when i’m outside, i try to think “cold is just a state of mind,” because maybe, if i think about it [or don’t think about it so much] the cold won’t get me.

i like how it feels when you first go outside, suffocated by your too many layers, and then this wind cuts at your face and blows through you. and i like that cold weather means that i can stay inside with a hoodie and my comforter.
but after a while of winter, the cold outside seems intrusive and the cozy feeling inside starts to be sickly, like when there’s too much sugar.

2: and getting sick
i have vertigo. i knew i was sick and not just bitching about having a cold because i kept falling up stairs and feeling like i was sinking into chairs. after waiting in student health services for 4 months, a doctor played the “follow my finger” game with me [which i lost at] and told me that vertigo can last from two hours to two months. my reaction: at least it’s got a good name. my mum’s reaction: “DO NOT RIDE YOUR BIKE. YOU WILL DIE. AND IF YOU DON’T DIE, I WILL KILL YOU.”

also: rabies. i don’t have it, obviously, but i

listened to a “this american life” around halloween about rabies and since then, i’ve been a walking psa. rabies is FUCKED UP. do you know what it does? it makes animals senselessly violent, takes away all their inhibitions, makes them immune to pain, heightens their sense of focus, and makes adrenaline practically ooze out of their eyeballs; basically, it makes them into real life, tiny, furry versions of superman, but evil. i know what you’re thinking: superman can fly and raccoons can’t. BUT guess what the number one carrier of rabies is? bats. and bats fly. if you wake up and a bat is in your house, you should get tested for rabies STAT. if you don’t get a vaccine within 72 hours, you die. new york and the surrounding area has experienced a ridiculous increase in rabies outbreaks, with over 300 reported attacks last year. and since it’s not bad enough that i live by new york during the school year, there is a new rabies epidemic spreading towards southwest ohio, i.e. cincinnati. i am going to be attacked by an animal and i am going to die.

3: it turns out that all your friends, they were just mean, dressed up
i can’t figure out how someone can spend so much time hating me; planning and whispering and manipulating and then pretending like they don’t care. but then, i’ve only recently started to understand what a waste it is. when i’ve figured something out, i expect that it’s something that everyone already knows. i have this skewed view where i’m just catching up with the rest of the world, when really i’m learning along with everyone else.

so sometimes i get sad for people i don’t even like. i wonder who has left them and how big that shadow is. i’ve decided that writing someone off as crazy overlooks too much and is too easy. it’s like denying them humanity, to say that they have no other motivation.

4: waffles

i’m trying to make a budget and track my spending and all those nice grown-up things that i really wish i would be better at, but i haven't been very successful yet. if i were going to estimate where i spend my money, though, i am guessing that it would look like this:

what this graph illustrates, besides that i spend too much on waffles, is that i should probably weigh a lot more than i do right now and that i should start saving my money so i can by a graphics tablet and actually draw pictures on my computer.

if you ever come to philadelphia, i will take you to eat at bonte before getting you a cheesesteak. meat and cheesewhiz just sound gross together, but that’s not the point, the point is: bonte’s waffles are bangin’.

work in progress 2.0

2008-11-25T15:38:00.006-05:00

this is the beginning of the second painting in the series.

and here's the fireplace that i spent all wednesday night making instead of writing my spanish essay, my art history essay, my gender essay, doing my race reading, or working on one of three paintings i have due soon. it was totally worth it.

in other news: we ran out of orange juice a week ago and now i'm sick. i don't think that's a coincidence. actually, we ran out of food a week ago so i ate stale pretzels all weekend, which may or may not have something to do with me being sick.

i heard from someone you're still pretty

2008-11-24T02:28:00.003-05:00

do you remember when we used to talk? we’d sit in that empty parking lot and roll the windows down and let the dew from the night collect on our skin, making us shiver even in the warmth. we were exploring because we wanted to feel infinite. but then, we were so safe in our little beds—anything could be shut out if it got too big or too scary. every time, we would stretch the clock to the last minute then rush you back to your house and hope we made it in time. you remind me of home.

remember how we used to sit around for hours and hours, and how your mum worried, and how we just laughed?

and then when things got thick. i was trying to figure it out and it was summer. the heat boiled everything out of me until i was one tiny core of fury. i got so angry with you and i pushed away because you didn’t pull at me. were you afraid or did i just want you to be? i’m good at imagining thoughts into places where they don’t exist. and remember when i made you cry? maybe i was right.

i hope that you remember me [happily]. sometimes i catch glimpses of things that remind me of you, but not often. it doesn’t make me sad that i don’t think of you, but when i do, it’s warm.

now i’m 500 miles from home but blankets are still impenetrable armor for sleeping. you hear a sound in the night, in the dark, and pull the covers up over your head, knowing that if something really is coming after you, somehow you’ll be safe, small, invisible. and maybe you’ll remember our stolen ideas, hidden deep and uncovered later, when you know you won’t get caught.

i just want to be comfortable. wrapped up but free.

i’ve got manners that i’ve smuggled away and memories that aren’t quite right but i rest on them.

it's about how unfamiliar even the familiar can become

2008-11-23T14:00:00.004-05:00

homemade oreos aka black maureens aka will you marry me? want a cookie? how about now? how about now?

2008-11-13T16:06:00.003-05:00

these are hands down the best cookies in the world. hands. down. they're kind of magic, too, because everyone who eats them instantly falls in love with you. you could cut the recipe in half, but that would be stupid because then you'd make half as many friends.

for the cookies

+2 boxes of devils food cake mix

+4 eggs

+2/3 cup of vegetable oil

the dough ends up being really really thick and hard to mix, so either use an electric mixer or your hands. when you make it into balls to cook, make them smaller than normal because otherwise you'll end up with like 5 gigantic cookies instead of 40 normal ones. cook them at 350 degrees for 6-8 minutes but more on the 6 side of things because no one likes hard cookies.

for the icing

+a stick of butter [that's 1/2 cup]

+a block of cream cheese [i don't know how much that is]

+3-4 cups of powdered sugar [that's 1 pound: YUM]

when the cookies are cool, ice half of them [of the flat side, obvs] and them stick them together with un-iced ones. sometimes, you get lucky and have an extra cookie that you get to eat. or, if you count before you bake them, you end up with an extra ball of dough to eat, which is soooo much better. they're also 800 times more moist and delicious the day after you make them, so put them in a baggie and wait.

four lists and a comic

2008-11-09T18:15:00.026-05:00

a playlist

also, i love youtube with my whole entire heart. whoever thought to put a song by a lesbian about sex and luuuurve with clips from "life with derek" is a genius.

+ bloc party: the prayer

+ iron and wine: faded from the winter

+ casiotone for the painfully alone: new year's kiss

+ the early november: i want to hear you sad

+ counting crows: anna begins

+ owl city: saltwater room

+ mirah: la familia

+ the national: slow show

+ sigur rós: vaka

+ lydia: hospital

+ third eye blind: forget myself

i am smarter than a 5th grader [especially is these were categories]

+ 38957194668521 reasons to put off things you should be doing

+ cleaning obsessively when you're upset, anxious, excited, or just having a lot of feelings

+ correct and incorrect use of apostrophes

+ clever things to say to the cashier who asks about your son when you're actually buying little boys' clothes for yourself

+ alternate routes to avoid the mean [and criminally insane] homeless man on 15th and chestnut

+ inappropriate things to say to your ex-girlfriend

+ excuses for wearing a helmet when biking [that make you sound tragically hip and not just really really lame]

+ diy hairstyles that, in retrospect, were absolutely not stylish

nice surprises from yesterday

+ soft ice in restaurants

+ waking up in the middle of the night and going back to sleep

+ real mail

+ seeing stars in the city

+ "veinte poemas de amor y una canción desperada"

texts from my mum and dad

+ "the proverbial shit has hit the fan."

+ "well, i went to drop some of my old clothes off today at goodwill and moseyed [sp?!] on in and found the DEAL OF THE YEAR...and it's yours if you want it!"

+ "WTG!"

+ "just got huge ladder to install new chandelier...yea!!"

+ "did you get the power cord yet? suppose if not then the battery's dead and you can't read this. oh well...LOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOU SOOOOOOO MUCH, dad"

the earth is not a cold dead place

2008-11-05T13:22:00.004-05:00

E|-------0-----|-------0-----|-------0-----|-------0-----
B|-----9---9---|-----7---7---|-----8---8---|-----8---8---
G|---9-------9-|---9-------9-|---7-------7-|---7-------7-
D|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------
A|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------
e|-9-----------|-0-----------|-7-----------|-7-----------

-----0-------|-------------|---0---------|--0-------0--|
-------4---0-|-------0-----|-------0---0-|------0------|
---6-----6---|-----4---4---|-----8---8---|----8---8----|
-------------|---6-------6-|-------------|-------------|
-0-----------|-------------|-------------|-------------|
-------------|-0-----------|-7-----------|-7-----------|

work in progress

2008-11-04T00:44:00.019-05:00

in the beginning, sometimes i left messages in the street

2008-11-04T00:28:00.007-05:00

but you wanted her to look through your memories and feel like she owned a part of them simply because you were hers. you wanted her to wish she possessed some old part of you. you wanted her to love your family and your bed and the streets you drove on and not want to leave ever. with her, you weren't okay with rain, you wanted a storm--an unstoppable, torrential downpour. instead, you had clouds and clouds, threatening to let everything pour out but she gave up before even the littlest one could break. she likes possibility but she won't give herself over to it and she can't be happy.

give it time and it'll fix itself, but right now you're not sure if you want it to. you have this obsession with feeling and you can't shake it.

in the beginning it was uninviting, but it's quickly becoming devastating. you're continually doing maintenance when all you need is something new but you can't give up because you're too attached to memories. and your nostalgia is this particular kind, a kind that belongs to experiences that haven't been lived yet and things that you want to wake up tangled in and then woven into the sheets of. your shoes are always the same and don't travel very far.

lately, your life has faded to black and white and your dreams, once fantastic, play out the small things you crave when you're awake. you're distracted and worried that you're losing your imagination and innocence and everything else that you gave away so easily and so willingly because you thought you would never run out of things to give. what you once thought was tying you down has turned into your safety net for when you walk on tightropes [which seems like every day now] and it's moving farther and father away, making you fall longer every time. you wake up with bruises you can't explain and a longing you can't articulate.

it's almost winter and you want to be warm. you miss the familiar and think about how strange it is that everything you used to recognize has become foreign. telephone lines are too thin to travel. the static is too loud and your words move too fast to span the distance.

so how will you handle the discontent? this aggravation is hostile to your nature, which is overly sensitive but impassive. you'll look for brilliance in your ordinary background, like the inviting coolness of your pillow, and lay away at night hoping they don't run out of good songs. you could wait for it to come, but instead you'll be after it all night. you've got time to make.