raisins d'eat[re].

The only reason I really want to become famous is so that my childhood drawings and writings and other such creations will be endearing and hilarious, and maybe amazing for a child, instead of just awkward.

some maysay.

Those of us who have remained truly human maintain that constant nomadic urge to migrate, and yet to develop home along the journey.

belated culture shock.

Well. In England there are coins that resemble quarters and they're called 50p. Fifty Pence. In the States, there's a coin called the quarter, meaning .25, meaning Twenty-five Cents. Well, having a coin that's worth 50% rather than 25% always makes more sense to me, but that's rather besides the point.

Today, I was in Boston. I went to pay for a sandwich. It was $7.48 [don't get me started on the price]. I handed the nice lady a five dollar bill, two one dollar bills, and a quarter. Well. To make things worse, I asked her to keep the change. She had to point out to me that it was $7.48 and I'd given her $7.25.

Summation: It would not have been nearly as embarrassing had I been trying to look cool [I've Been in the UK Recently And Know About Their Currency! Bully For Me!]. The reason it was so embarrassing was that I was completely serious about the fact that I've been back from England since August and I was still able to think a quarter is fifty cents.

Bully, bully, I say.

up with the tops again.

What are you doing on 7 March? I'll be doing this:

You can find me out on the red carpet as head photographer. It sounds fancy, but I'm just really excited to dress snazzy and in all black - That's one of my favourite pasttimes.

But srsly, I feel very privileged to be there helping out RIIFF. They're really cool people, and independent films rock, like in the modern sense, they rock.

sometimes we all do things that, well, just don't make no sense.

Haley Joel Osment said on the television that Forrest Gump, starting last night, will be on, like, every night this week. I'm going to watch it every night, starting last night, which I did, just to see if I can do that without getting sick of it.

Day Two: So far so good. But I'm only at the part where the principal makes silly sex-noise. So, well.

Mostly, it always makes me feel sad, and happy, and the kind of sad that makes you happy, and like I want to listen to The Beatles and The Byrds. Also, it needs to be said that I have, in fact, had a burger at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co, though it was in Manhattan, and it was extreme deliciosity. We was like peas 'n carrots, me 'n that burger.

process/result.

Ever notice, in most situations, everything that can go wrong tends to go wrong, and things just keep going wrong - Our lives are practically built on moment after moment that just seems to be the opposite of what is desired - But the result is almost always great and worthy of about five million huge exhales and even bigger smiles, even if it's not what was originally planned?

Makes a person think: It's never in the process, but in the result.

Or maybe not. But it's a thought.

priorities.

The first thing I'm going to do, it's been decided, when I have a slightly more steady cashflow, is eBay. Did anybody else know that eBay is not only still cool after all these years, but has gotten way cooler?

I'se gonna find me some vintage dresses, yessir, I am.

here am i sitting in my tin can.

The astronauts must have such a groovy time,

and in the most peculiar ways.

only like a violin-playing goat.

I Wish I Was Here.

This was certainly the most positive bumper sticker I've ever seen.

an interview for a friday.

Well. It's been a terribly stressful week, but it's finished up in a pretty delightful way - Lots of tea, Barnes & Noble, snarky comments, Girl Scout cookies, and a bit of alone time. I took a moment to enjoy this interview I found, and don't remember how [most likely through one of the blogs I frequent daily.] I've been as of late rediscovering my true self, as we all do from time to time, and remembered that who I really am is a writer, born and bred. As I was reading it, I got somewhat inspired to think about these questions myself and it was quite fulfilling. Every writer must appreciate their Writin' Room. On campus apartment: It may be, but it's my own space, and I feel at home in it, which is perfect to promote creativity. So, check out the interview with author Caroline Leavitt, but here's mine below as well...

What does your desk—the bare desk itself—look like, and how did you acquire it?

It belongs to the university, so not much mystery in the desk alone, in all its nakedness. But it's a good size, probably not made of real wood, though it is pretty convincing, and the whole thing's really heavy. I would know. There's a big drawer where I keep papers I don't know what to do with, a medium drawer where I keep electronic stuff, and a smaller drawer where I keep materials-of-an-academic sense [stapler, pens, et cetera]. And a pull-out tray thing I just found a purpose for [dinner assistant]. And a drawer for makeup and jewelry, too, cos I'm a girl, and we need those. There are never enough drawers.

What’s on your desk?

My beloved black MacBook when it's not on my bed or my bedside table, speakers my sister gave me and my roommates and neighbours probably hate her for it, Halo tin in which is a whole bunch of packs of Trident Spearmint gum, a couple CDs [one for Musical Theatre class, one is a T.Rex mix from Chad], DVD player which now has a pink remote since someone from some party probably stole the old one, the perfect-sized television right on top of that, HP Photosmart printer that I yell at far too often considering I hope it lives forever. On top of the printer is a lovely display of memories: A Jack Daniels tin I bought at Sainsbury's back in '08 [it used to have a couple nips in it], memorial bottle of Jack for Mikey [miss you bunches, bud], the Dalek I got in Cardiff, a piece of the giant Christmas tree from IMC's Nutcracker '09 [hilarious to those who saw me haul it around three times a day], and, oh yes, an empty bottle of hand sanitizer.

What do you wish wasn’t on your desk?

Well, I recently cleaned my desk, so it's actually making me quite happy right now. But right now, there's a box of Girl Scout cookies I just bought, and it's taunting me. It's the kind we always called Samoas as Girl Scouts in Connecticut, but they call them Caramel deLites here which is both poor spelling and annoyingly lacking in creativity.

Are there artifacts in your office that relate to your current project?

I don't think I'll ever have an "office." Maybe if I ever get married. But I kind of like sleeping where I work. Anyway, most things relating to my current project are on my lappers/XHD, but there are bunches of England-related things on my wall [including a David Tennant Love's Labours Lost, an Underground symbol, a War Horse poster, LFC paraphernalia, English flag] and most of the book is set in current day London, and the main character is an actor from Liverpool, so.

Are there living things in your office (besides yourself)?

This is why I am planning on getting fish, yes, this week. But I hate what they look like when they die, so I'm nervous. I have a goat marionette and lots of dust bunnies under my bed. That's as close as I can get at the mo.

What else surrounds you?

Naturally, my bed, which I think is the most comfortable thing in the world until I sleep elsewhere in a real bed and swoon. I've also got a blue college apartment style couch, which is only in here because I'm on the first floor so when we moved the new couch into the living room, we had to put this one somewhere. On that, I've got a tiny television with a built-in VHS player, which I never use, a British flag, and a humongous scale model of the Globe Theatre that I made last semester. I've got a minifridge for beverages only. On that is a sideways milk crate that fits about half of my books that are in this state [about 5% of my whole collection - If I could have anything in my dream apartment, it would be a ginormous bookcase], a Strand bookstore mug, a Rough Trade record shop mug, a Hartford Whalers beer mug, and an empty Lucozade bottle. My guitar's over there by the unused couch - It's a gorgeous Martin DX1 acoustic and I treasure it - I'm extremely choosey about who can touch it. Next to that is my dresser on top of which sits beauty products, all of which are green, a lamp, which is blue, my five pound weights I lift whenever my arms are bored, and my brand new Aroma electric tea kettle since I dropped my other one on stone steps during a rainstorm amidst my last move. Next to that is my wastebasket, which is still covered in strips of luaun - I altered it to use as a prop for last summer's What the Butler Saw and it was quite the project. It was a good summer. Finally, the last truly mentionable item is my bedside table because it has somehow survived since my motel-life days. It's black, simple, and one of my favourite, and yet most forgettable things. It always has at least five books and a pack of gum on it.

What’s on the walls?

Starting from the window, which has blinds that are never opened except to peer out on the occasional drunken brawl outside, because it overlooks a street and campus life. Above the window is a quote from Doctor Who, yup: "The truth is, the world is so much stranger than that, so much darker, so much madder, and so much better." I wrote it using ink [literally], and a white oil pastel with ink-water mixture. Turn left. Poster from the RSC's David Tennant Love's Labours Lost, though I wish I'd gotten the Hamlet one since that got ridiculously famous. War Horse poster from the National Theatre. Posters from shows I've been involved with. KCACTF Dukakis Centre sign that the three of us took after our last load-out last year, and wrote a bunch of quotes from the week on it. Next to that hangs the goat marionette [it's large]. My mum got that for me. On the other side of the door: LFC posters. On closet door hangs the annual Britain calendar. February focuses on The Highlands. Bagpipers. Beside the closet are two vintage Clash album covers straight from the '70s. Wall behind bed has the big English flag. Behind headboard is London Underground poster, and beside that is 'the friends wall.' This includes, mostly, stuff my friends have made me [drawings, thank you cards, a Valentine card, birthday card, photo, and a legitimate photo booth strip]. I live in a campus apartment. Personalisation and non-empty walls are huge feats.

What have you lost in your office that you really wish you could find?

So many socks! My sock population constantly dwindles. Also, my London charm necklace. Actually, the second one. Because I lost the first one somewhere this summer. It's a doomed necklace.

What tools do you write with?

This necessitates a list:

-Black MacBook [which is covered in stickers and nearly four years of love. One of my greatest dreams is that this guy shall live forever.]

-Sketchbook, which I use for writing down anything and everything. From grushry lists to class notes to ideas. You can tell when I'm working on my book because I write in illegible cursive so no one can read it [sometimes including me]. I use sketchbooks for writing and those big yellow lined writing pads for sketching.

-Black Pilot Precise rolling ball pens.

-iTunes genius, or purposefully built playlists.

-Beer or tea or whiskey or Red Bull, depending on the mood.

-Photos [locations and characters].

Is anyone allowed to come in and clean?

I think that's a question for people who can afford to pay people who enjoy being paid to clean eccentric writers' offices. I have no office, and little money, so. I clean my own writin' room and it thrills me every time.

from the dust of my despair comes...

I really, really love 1970s animation. Really, I will dig anything with the names Rankin or Bass. It's like how some people feel real good when they watch old black & white films, y'know? Like Casablanca or It's a Wonderful Life or Breakfast at Tiffany's [a personal favourite]. I get that feeling from the animated films from my parents' youth. That's what I have on while stress eats away at my happiness like buzzards. Stress buzzards.

>KO)->

things done this weekend:

-evidently, typed up a lot of usb dongle goblins in the merriment of the season

-pub lunch, parents included

-ihop at midnight

-bellevue and ocean drive, twice

-got pulled over by a cop [my first time], because he was bored [no, yeah, that's actually what he told us, considering the whole 'i was following the law' thing. he literally wanted to mess with me. is that legal? ponder.]

-chocolate. and chocolate.

-reread the first few pages of the french [original] translation of l'étranger [to this day have not yet read it in english] and realised how much of a review i need of the language.

-sprayed hairspray on my glasses.

-drank a beer really fast to get out of a party fast. but met a kid from two towns over from my hometown, and who knew my high school boyfriend of one month.

-swooned over ryan gosling [it's okay because he has a bitchin band. and because it was vamlumtimes day, and that's what the single ladies do. we ate cookies too.]

-didn't get much work done.

next weekend i'll:

-buy fish [to stare at, not to eat]

-thrift store shop

-do laundry

-get much work done.

-and many things inbetween. and, go.

[editor's note: that last photo was taken at a small, unknown middletown nautical pet shop amid the first half of my sophomore year, at which time i was a nervous debbie harry wannabe. i was with two girls who i barely knew at the time, and who i now call my best friends and roommates. moral: lots of stories can be behind fish lips.]

freezer inventory.

Blogspired by Salad & Candy.

-frozen chicken breasts [for tacos and for breadin']

-ice, in trays [does anyone use them?]

-Morning Star spicy black bean burgers [flatmate's, though I've never seen any of them make burgers ever before, never mind one made of beans.]

-Ravioli

-Tortellini [fun fact: I only eat ravioli in the States, I only eat tortellini in the UK.]

-Steamfresh potaters [smell up the microwave, but are probably my favourite post-rehearsal munch.]

-Cap'n Morgan Rum [Patrick Panther's from last Friday. Mostly gonezo.]

-2 changin' colours cups [not mine. I don't buy cups without stuff on 'em. I also don't freeze m'cups.]

-Football Chicken [not really, but it's one of my flatmate's. She was gonna cook it last week, hasn't yet, and one of our more creative friends thought it would make a much better football than a football would. It's back in the freezer now.]

-Organic Ground Beef [not mine either. I don't buy organic things that I didn't even know could sensically be labeled 'organic.']

-Whole Grain Oatmeal Bread [Flatmate's, though I used it for my nutella-toast this morning. It was...okay.]

-Lamb from months and months ago I've yet to cook because I want to cook it in a pomegranate-mint sauce like I used to in London, but I haven't found pomegranate anywhere, though I haven't been looking very hard. Yup, that's why.

-Frozen sauce of some sort, probably from someone's mum.

-Some kind of large tin with candies painted on it and plastic lid that is frozen shut. The mystery tin.

Summations:

-If I lived alone, my freezer inventory would founder.

-There's sure a lot of stuff in there considering out of the four of us, I'm the only one that regularly cooks meals.

-One of my flatmates feels a powerful loyalty to Market Pantry.

-I want popsicles.

colours of the week.

yullow.

grrrrreen.

orahnge.

music or...

I'd put on some tunes, or the television, or move, but my neighbours are playing what we think is Zelda, and I can hear it clearly through the wall of my staircase, and it makes it seem like my stairs lead to a more exciting world, and it's making me feel real good inside. I can't leave that just yet.

always a bridesmaid, never a ginger.

This story begins with a statement: I've wanted to be ginger for probably a couple of years now, and have been contented with dark reddish-brown hair.

This story ends with an unsatisfactory conclusion: I tried to colour my hair dark auburn a couple evenings ago and it came out relatively the same colour it's been, though it looks ginger in some light [mostly morning light in my bedroom].

There is not much inbetween the beginning and the end except disappointment.

Many stories are structured this same way.

explosion jokes aren't funny.

My sister sent me a message today that said simply this: The power plant in Middletown exploded. It felt like an earthquake. The house shook and it sounded like a bomb. I thought the furnace exploded [not a direct quote, but anything seems bigger than it is when put bluntly].

Point being, they're a town over in the middle of nowhere, far away from the Kleen Power Plant, which, in fact, exploded earlier today. I saw online that people felt it as far as East Haven, which is not exactly close to Middletown. Things just don't happen in Connecticut.

Part of me wishes I was there because I've never felt an earthquake, but really it's just very tragic.

tipsy is in the endzone..

..but unfortunately without a ball!

Currently watching: Yes, dear readers, Animal Planet's 'Puppy Bowl.' I can honestly say that I don't give a hoot for the Super Bowl [never had and, yeah, probably never will], so, you know, I put this on as a background for getting work done [so far, so good!]

It's the most mind-numbing thing I've ever seen, in a very positive way. It just sort of...blanks out your mind with all the adorability. Too much Cute in one place. Just sit there with your mouth hanging open. Like an animal. It's literally puppies running around a tiny american football field. There's narration, but really, it's just like the fireplace channel on Christmas day.

It's the days of the gladiators and the bear-baiting, reprised, without the violence. Maybe this means Theatre will make a comeback.

ring. ring.

'We Own the Night,' which is a film usually seen for $7 at the ends of checkout stations at Target, is on FX as we speak. I started watching it because I keep seeing it at the ends of checkout stations at Target and all I really knew about it was that it's got Joaquin Phoenix circa when he was ridiculously attractive, rather than bearded, delusional, and delusionally bearded. I continue to keep it on because of the fantastic '80s tunes - Blondie and The Clash and The Specials - the music of my youth [all relative]. I assume the movie's not terrible, but heavy New York accents, gelled hair, and cigars immediately make me lose attention.

I've succumbed to exhaustion. Two weeks of non-stop socialising, a whole lot of boozing and laughing and making messes, then trying to clean them up like they've never been cleaned before, has concluded with severe tiredness and intense wind chill. After a really therapeutic grocery shopping experience, I came home, organised it all, and am not leaving my fleecey bed until Monday. Time for the body to relax and the mind to turn turn turn. All in all, a success.

The film used The Clash's 'Magnificent Seven' and I remembered that in my high schools days, I worked for the school news channel and I once made a bumper to open the show - It was a montage of one of my friends waking up for an obviously boring adult career where you have to wear stilettos and drive a car, but then she was waking up for high school where you get to wear funky earrings and put your bookbag in a locker and she was much more excited to be doing that. I remember not actually believing in the sentiment, but wanted everyone to kick off the day on a postitive note. I used The Clash's 'Magnificent Seven' as the music. I remember that this was among my film projects I did as a teenager that my film teacher loved and wanted to use over and over again, while my fellow students stared blankly and were unimpressed.

I'm either completely ahead, or completely behind, my time and age.

all things are predictable, ultimately.

Wearing tight black clothes to do yoga makes me feel so much more balanced and ready to work. Also, I think it might be called 'sexy' but that's such a generic term. I'd rather just do my thing, and then finish the work out, and sit down at my lappers, and pull up my leggings over my belly and look like an old guy. That's probably preferrable.

In order to live with me, this is what you must expect to see when you come home. Also, the crab-scamper and harmonica. Probably at the same time.

Check this out: waterfalls + [tom selleck + sandwiches]

Salami is back en vogue. Disproportionate mustaches aren't.

adtnl: kitten mittons & more.

I am in dire need of a box of crayons. For a colouring book. No jokes. And the only items I own of the 'crayon variety' are conté crayons. They aren't helpful. Not for colouring books. Shop tomorrow, no doubt.

More importantly!

Below basically sums up a good portion of my ACTF '10 Experience:

I miss my boys and my not-cold shower and my lack of classwork and, um, not feeling exhausted at 6pm despite being up all hours of the night. Right? Okay. Anyway.

Kitten mittons...you'll be smitten.

Goal for tomorrow: Don't wake up to the Army ROTC marching and chanting past my apartment. Alas, the university years. Soak up the last bit of it, self.

solls/souls/soles.

The major requirement to being a wearer of plimsolls, besides fitting that certain either boat-owning or trendiness-owning-up-to-ness, is the ability to tolerate the constant odor of rubber. On and all around your feet. At just about all times. Continual sock washing is a must. Crossing legs in a small room is undesirable by the general populace. Sweaty-footed folks should probably opt for a good sandal, or something that breathes well.

Someday, I should realise that plimsolls are not, in fact, the end all be all sneaker. Or I should own a boat.