41° 22' 60 N, 2° 10' 60 E

fleeting.

2010-05-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

i've spent the past 5 years, more or less, in a mountain town, filling my days with mind-numbing lectures, real-life intellectual experiences, and more inebriation than i care to own up to.

i'm a college student. a statement i will only be able to make for 5 more days, and it pains me to have just counted those days on one hand.

i am a college student. such a simple statement that on the outside, could never embody the unmatchable feeling the phrase truly ignites in me. instantly a montage of memories plays on the backscreen in my mind, flashes of faces, dancing, tears, hugs, hello's and goodbye's, music. significance. saturday it will be embodied in a square hat and long gown, a smile, an embrace from family, and then, somehow silence.

i remember the notes i jotted down to myself as i rode out of my small town, on my way to move in freshman year. they were approximately:

my last coffee was from mcdonald's? the last time i rode on my favorite road, my favorite curve, i was sending a text message? what is this reality?

i remember how fleeting each mile felt. i remember how exhilarating the unknown future felt, but how that exhilaration filled me with discomfort.

looking back, it was my own naivete that scared me. now i realize just how to cherish all of that significance rather than deal with the frustration of its elusiveness.

we started a mini tradition the past few days... each time one of my roommates was officially 'done' with the year, or in some cases, their college career, we pop a bottle of champagne. we stand around and toast to the one finished, to the year we've had, to the impenetrable bonds we've made, to which a meager bubbly does no justice. we sip.

today one of my roomates was leaving. although she will be returning to celebrate our graduation, the small hiatus signified a bigger end. we sat on the yellow kitchen coutners, glasses in hand, and spontaneously and unashamedly reminisced. we shared laughs with each story, of spring break misadventures and snow day shenanigans to say the least. we attempted again to piece together nights that had been marginally misplaced, while sharing tears recounting memories that were too real, too tangible to revisit just yet.

we sat on the counters as we had so many times before. we sat this time as 3 women who had come to know each other inside and out, to recognize each hair on our bathroom floor as well as every reaction, every feeling, every determinable neurosis that we shared to our souls. we came as near strangers and leave as near lovers, our shadows and footprints behind us and our indeterminable futures before us. and the confidence that if we did anything, we came and we loved and we did it with no abandon. and no regrets.

cloth napkin.

2010-05-06T21:03:00.000-07:00

searching through the murkiness that is the 'drafts' section of my email, i came across this little gem... two short stories about my summer job at the new york deli, further proof that with sunshine and irresponsibility inevitably comes creativity, even in the form of goat cheese salads.
..............................................................................

daily trials of a carytown restaurant worker:

i didn't seat him, but i watched. fairly good-looking, fit.

lunch alone, without a book?

he smiled, confirming it.

not gay.

five minutes later, as i re-filled a family of water glasses, another man joined him. i observed their smart flat-front khaki's, each in a tucked-in button down. they sat together, leaning forward, joking.

dammit.

gay.

i began wiping down a table behind them and overheard the conversation: "i mean, mayonnaise is one thing, but you have to put the mustard and ketchup on the bread. putting it directly on the meat is a sin- it ruins the meat. condiments go on bread."

i laughed at the serious, protective tone in which they discussed ground beef.

not gay.

i overheard their order- one, a spinach salad with goat cheese, dressing on the side. the other, the cold plate with extra hummus.

yep.

gay.

i approached their table with their homosexual lunch choices. "salad with goat cheese?" i asked. the cute one smiled. "good choice." i lied. i gave the other his two ironically a-cup hummus mounds and asked if they needed anything else. "what, mine's not a good choice?" the other asked in an attempt to be clever. "no, you just didn't seem like you needed any positive reinforcement regarding your lunch." "oh, you're saying i'm fat." "i'm saying you're confident. enjoy the hummus."

and i could tell by the way goat cheese salad's eyes followed me...

not gay.

what's even better, he's the quieter of the two, and wouldn't leave lunch smelling of bean paste and garlic.

is it inappropriate to leave your number

.....on a cloth napkin?

....................................................

he was sitting at the end of the bar, a lunch-break beer with a friend. instantly i recalled 6 days earlier, a thursday night event, him leaning drunkenly out of his chair, begging me to stay.

the witty charm of this 20-something had been drowned by dark liquor and his glassy eyes leaked desperation. it was entertaining, if nothing else. i slipped him my business card- a simple 2x3.5" with my name, contact information, and a clever acid yellow stitched line across the middle.

i could tell by the way he talked, the designer jeans, loud printed shirt that he had recovered his clever, non-inebriated self along with his dignity, so once i conjured up the perfect line, i slipped behind the bar and stood in front of the two.

"oh my god..." he said, feigning an entertaining shocked expression.

"this may be deja vu, but didn't i leave you in that same seat thursday night?"

"no sweetheart, it was the back booth after you tried to makeout with me."

laughing sarcastically, "that must have been some other black-dressed brunette." redirecting my attention, i extended my hand to his friend. "hi, i'm liz."

noticing, he attempted to win it back. "weren't you coming over here to say 'michael, i've been thinking about you ever since thursday. tell me when i can take you to dinner.'"

relieved he divulged his name- something i unashamedly had forgotten. i smiled slyly, "well michael, if i recall, you have my card. if dinner is what you're interested in, i trust you'll contact me."

"when are you free?"

"next week."

"ok, i'll give you my number."

"you have mine- i'll hear from you."

i walked away, wondering where this confidence came from, considering i had been drinking with friends until 5am and still hadn't showered.

i avoided that end of the bar until the two left, not wanting to inevitably taint the image i left in his head.

inspirational wasteland.

2010-04-28T22:06:00.001-07:00

the majority of the time i spend in my room in the south wing of my wilson avenue abode i am sitting in a high-back wooden chair, facing west, at my 'desk,' collecting my thoughts and words as they buzz about, channeling them back to my chosen medium, with a backdrop gustav klimt tapestry and whichever itunes specialty i have been craving as accompaniment.

today, my thoughts turn less to the obscure, limitless realm of human experience, but more concretely, to the desk itself.

it, for one, is approximately... (helen? the measuring tape, please?)

(helen is my dress form, and thus the keeper of my measuring tape and whatever project i am pinning and sewing onto her.)

31.5 x 22 inches.

it's... quaint. and while my laptop claims its rightful stake in the matter, the residual surface is covered and layered in... well, in my life. which equally serves as my ever-evolving inspiration and my mind's tangible wasteland.

it's contents, with explanations offered:

vase of pens, pencils, paint brushes, and other such useful/less items- i think 2 of the pens work. there is also a souveneir pair of chopsticks, a silver glittery leaf that was a festive hair piece, and a $1 chip from caesar's palace, which one day i will bet recklessly on a game of roulette and never look back.

two coffee- stained articles, from new york magazine- among the sporadic postal gems sent to me from harrisonburg.

an antique jewelry box- contents formerly a long, cameo pendant necklace from a shop in town. which i will never divulge the name, in fear that people will realize she sells antique jewelry.

a day calendar- and because i do not like keeping track of days on paper, i flip through it casually. according to the date showing, there is still snow on the ground.

albums- the black keys, spoon, mgmt, modern and traditional tango mix.

a spool of tan thread.

two bottle caps- one birra moretti, one flying dog- the italian, from mi italiana, and the flying dog a single-bottle purchase, just because there was a bike on the label and i wanted to walk outside and open it using the bottle opener on my bike. (i did just that.)

two wine corks.

a stack of post-it's, awaiting their fate as meager attempts to collaborate the random sketches that make up my life.

my moleskin journal- for those sketches and words that require more staying power than a sticky note.

a set of christian lacroix stationary that i overpaid for, but justified as 'inspiration'- which i did actually use as such for a project.

a fabric swatch, the necessary color i had to use as a central aspect of my challenge garment for the fashion show.

my passport, sniffling, neglected. shamefully dusty.

numerous safety pins, straight pins, sewing needles, thumbtacks.

a glass of wine- because i am supposed to be working on my story on this weekend's wine festival, which so clearly requires a glass of tempranillo for inspiration (but seems to have alternatively inspired some haphazard blogging.)

folded up bib from the monument ave 10k.

crumbled napkin sketches- unintelligible souvenir collectibles from blacksburg nightlife's finest.

and lastly, a perpetually relentless clock and a pending deadline.

<3.

the thawing out period- a haiku.

2010-04-07T22:58:00.001-07:00

i'm alive thank God
i'm alive, i'm inspired.
finally thawed out

word quota.

2010-01-21T06:43:00.000-08:00

i feel like i wake up each day with this underlying word quota. not so much thoughtless words, but the ones that you think over, say in your head first, compose onto paper and then scratch through, rearrange, toss and start over again and again. for this, there is a quota. a creative word quota.

and thus, my pleasant agony of being a reporter for my university's newspaper. i love the excitement of being connected with so many students, the pride i see in someone's eyes when their life is featured in a story, the thrill of seeing my name under that story at least twice a week.

however, most days i'll have an idea that won't leave my head without a fight, and i'll race home to develop it with a combination of words in my own style, only to be left with a series of jumbled characters and twice as much backspacing. i sigh, and watch another day go by, postless.

for my ongoing list of words with obligatory priority, click here.

white flag.

2009-11-15T15:59:00.000-08:00

i am now on the third day of an ongoing battle with the spiders in my basement.

these aren't just regular old creepy spiders, mind you, but some sort of heinous hybrid of cricket, spider, and the abominable snowman that can jump unimaginable heights and tend to survive on a diet of kittens and pure steel.

i haven't been able to do my laundry for three days now, and it just doesn't seem fair. i've tried screaming warnings down the steps, politely asking them to move along, and even bargaining with them by offering small bits of leftovers from the fridge.

the gatekeeper, among the largest and likely wisest, mocks me from the bottom of the steps, keeping constant vigil of their newfound territory. often he high-five's the lewis-and-clark of the group, the forefront of the expedition and consequent fertilizers of the now herd.

i've tried everything, but most of the time i end up somewhere in between slamming the door, giving up while scoffing a 'FINE, you win!' or the much more subtle reaction of running back up the stairs screaming, throwing the majority of my clothing items in the recycle bin for fear of infestation, and doing that dance where you hop around a lot and wipe off every surface of your pants, shaking out your hair and shimmying your shoulders.

i've tried wearing my darkest sunglasses, so then they just appear to be greasy stains on the cement, which works until they launch themselves 50 ft in the air, fangs out, claws sharp, hungry for young collegiate brunettes.

i've considered bringing along my hairspray, immobilizing the mutant legs of the beasts just long enough for me to throw a load in... after testing the range of my pantene weapon i realized that by the time i was close enough to spray, they'd be dragging me into the depths of their den, feeding me piece-by-piece to the queen arachnamonster.

and so, i've given up. for the third night in a row i will sleep on a bed with no sheets. tomorrow i will revisit my beloved laundromat, and also draft a formal letter requesting the beasts pay for part of our rent, waiting to deliver the request upon the purchase of a hazmat suit.

lucille.

2009-10-14T13:34:00.000-07:00

still the reigning king of blues.

inside all of us is a wild thing...

2009-10-01T10:37:00.001-07:00

oui, oui!

2009-09-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

oui, oui! Parisian leaves!

i just shuddered, realizing september is about to pass me by without one new blog post. that, or it was just the fact that somehow, once again, it seems that blacksburg has so graciously skipped right over fall and brought us straight into winter. or so it seems. let's just hope this cold front passes and welcomes us into the season of apple-picking and fall festivals, rainy football victories, bouquets or freshly sharpened pencils, and brown over-the-knee boots.

a friend told me today "fall just makes me feel so collegiate. i don't know. it's exciting." and i agreed, 100%, here in my last fall of being a college student. i'm celebrating with a glass of wine and an exam study guide in front of me... so i will leave only this, for now:

my first full story published in the collegiate times. check it out.

hanover's.

2009-08-30T15:07:00.001-07:00

veggie or fruit? i'd argue neither, really. heaven-sent produce needs its own category.

i come from a county that is famous for its tomatoes. some say it's the sand-like quality of the soil. others, the good-hearted farmers who love the relished crops as much as they do their own families. regardless, hanover's (as we like to refer to them) have a long-running streak as being truly the best tomatoes in the world.

if you've ever had one, you won't think it's crazy that we have an annual tomato festival every july, complete with a tomato queen, tomatoes on a stick, and other such non-traditional relics to the juicy, red gods of summer.

the topic of tomatoes came up in a recent lunch conversation. a friend of mine chimed in, "i honestly think there should be a designated holiday for the first tomato sandwich of the summer." we all agreed as she laughed and added, "i have to make 2 at a time... i eat one standing up while i make the other!" my sister admitted, "i average 3 tomatoes a day: one sliced atop my toast in the morning, another for a sandwich at lunch, and one just as a side for my dinner."
yesterday i had to suffer through a 'vine ripened in new jersey" stickered tomato, surrendering to the unyielding reality that my local market in blacksburg doesn't import from my hometown, 3 hours away. as if an answer to my epicurian prayers, a friend brought our house an unexpected surprise delivery at 11pm last night: 5 gallons of fresh-picked hanover's.

sometimes karma works overboard.

seam ripper

2009-08-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

you've got the essence, dear.
if i could have a second skin
i'd probably dress up in you.
- belle & sebastian

city of angels.

2009-08-26T22:47:00.000-07:00

1053 ft.

2009-08-26T22:39:00.000-07:00

mobjack bay.

2009-08-26T13:21:00.000-07:00

refrigerator poetry.

2009-08-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

there is something to be said for the combination of 100+ random, magnetized words and a few drunk residents and visitors who frequently congregate in the kitchen numerous nights following adventures in downtown blacksburg. the result is a mix of poetry, prose, and obscure, inappropriate pick-up lines that both inspire laughing and foggy insight the following morning. here are a few inspiring quips from this past week.

*to be an ongoing post, for whenever my refrigerator inspires me.

gate 9.

2009-08-03T09:41:00.000-07:00

9am wednesday. RIC airport. gate 9.

justin is a physical therapist in seattle. and i'll never forget him.

you know, i don't think he'll forget me either. not anytime soon.

his kids are jake, and finley, 5 and 8. his girlfriend, maxi, is in germany. just before we parted ways i gave him a richmond postcard i'd been saving for just such an opportunity, in exchange for a promise to buy an international stamp and send it to her. they met when she tore her ACL. "she had her eye on me for a while... i had no idea." part of me believed him. he was reading 'Chicken Soup for the Lover's Soul'. i was the only one who would verbally make fun of him that day. his simple justification: 'well, i'm in love.' they took the most beautiful photo at dawn on charles bridge in Prague. he said i looked czech with my high cheekbones and bright eyes.

it's funny, now that i think of it. overhearing my response as to why i was going to colorado. 'i have no idea,' he laughed and forged a uniquely cliche introduction-- 'what's your story?'

and here i am, writing his.

<3.

arrivals/departures

2009-08-03T09:11:00.001-07:00

it appears i have allowed the july doldrums to leak in, however only in the blog area of my life. as for the other sectors, they have all thrived with life in the midsummer month.

for that, i will have a series of posts just of notes from my recent and ongoing travels. a text i sent my friend from the airport a little over a week ago: it's all too much. with 2 glasses of wine i could cry with how beautiful life is.

and i almost did. the high i get from traveling is unmatched. the combined thrill of insatiable, misguided adventure and the anonymity that comes with sitting in an airport bar, talking to people who are all going places... whether it's just home or overseas or in my case, colorado... for a reason i couldn't name. it truly is just all too much.

smoke break.

2009-07-07T08:14:00.000-07:00

today i packed my lunch, for the first time ever. which is good because i won't be driving home and then back, but bad because i really revel in my meager 30 minutes to sit and eat on my porch. is it acceptable to just ask to walk around the block once or twice after i enjoy my caprese salad and baguette?

i swear, sometimes i'm jealous of smokers. why is it that puffing on a cigarette, endangering your health and that of those around you, is consistently rewarded by 4 minutes of fresh air, 6 times per shift? it's so damn ironic.

it should just be built into the workday that every employee gets 15 minutes or so of just sitoutsidetime to use whenever and however they choose, whether it's to stroll the block or slowly build up an intolerance for lung cancer.

and for goodness sake, is it pronounced cap-ree-say or just cap-rees? or cap-reesh-ay?

billie jean.

2009-06-26T13:21:00.001-07:00

this afternoon my conservative neighbor on the corner of grove and shields played michael jackson's thriller album loudly from his porch, imploring the neighborhood to memorialize the prematurely-dead pop star at 85 decibels as he silently did yard work.

i sat on a chair, in my yard, began a new novel and moved a little to the beat. above everything else, he was damn talented.

no naps.

2009-06-13T13:05:00.000-07:00

i spent my last day of unemployment appropriately.

fighting off the arguably unwarranted effects of a last call irish car bomb 'gift', my unmade twin bed threatened me to take a nap.

a phone call from mary saved me-
you wouldn't believe how hot it is...

equally tempted to see for myself and reminiscing our own 'NO NAPS' rule from camp, i gathered the necessities:
camera
book
moleskin, pen
bathing suit
avaitors.
and set off on my bike.

i rode all the way down grove until the only remnants of the city were familiar street names, all disguised with large, historic brick homes.

i came to the conclusion that grove between malvern and westmoreland is the most bike unfriendly stretch of sidewalk in the city.

i sat at the pool and read some. i rode my bike along new streets, trying to get lost. i got an italian ice in carytown with a 'local employees' discount, then bought 2 currently destinationless postcards.

having one obligation, i headed to mechanicsville to get my oil changed. i ended up sitting on the sidewalk outside and making friends with the oilchange cat. "she doesn't really like people..." yet by the end of it she was purring a plea to take me home. i scratched her head, and told her i'd see her in 3 months, or 3000 miles (whichever comes first.)

from there, i caught up with my parents and did my ritualistic scouring and pilfering of their refrigerator, and finally to my bestfriendof17years' grad party.

what followed was a combination of equal parts barbecue, live classic rock, belting out temptations lyrics, and many multi-generational games of flip cup, well into the wee hours.

that wee part really being the only questionable decision, considering, as of 10am today, i'm employed!

ole.

flannel

2009-06-10T08:14:00.001-07:00

when i was 4 i participated in the christmas pageant at my church. my sister and i were shepherds, and i vaguely remember how excited i was about the costumes- an off-white pillow case cinched around the waste by a simple leather cord.

i'm sure my mother would jump at the chance to prove wrong my assumption that there are no remaining pictures from the event, however, it seems some things never change...

recently i was helping a friend move when i spotted one of the greatest 2.5x3 ft pieces of flannel i'd run across in a while. when i asked, he told me it was the pillow case he used to move his drums (? i'd assume that pesky, pillow shaped drum?). i asked if his drums would miss it, but didn't wait for the response.

here, is my result:

to be worn at any outdoorconcertcookoutfamilygettogether that presents itself.

sunday funday

2009-06-08T09:14:00.001-07:00

summer it the time when one sheds her tensions with her clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. a few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world.

- Ada Louise Huxtable

a/c

2009-06-06T13:02:00.000-07:00

my dad told me once that air conditioning is thought of as the most antisocial invention. and now, i couldn't agree more.

living in the fan, everyone has a porch. everyone. however, with the convenience of the a/c, people no longer need the porch. they are drawn to the indoors rather than spending countless hours on the front porch, drinking lemonade or something stronger, connecting with neighbors, taking in every part of their square of the world.

today, after giving my first ever official personalized tour of richmond (yes, of course, it was a success.) my tour victim left, and there was a brief moment of panic when i realized i had no one to keep me company for the next hour or so. proactively i grabbed my book (summer sisters, for the 3rd time. NBO) and headed to my porch.

not long after, someone came out of the pineapple door. which, by the way, finally disappeared last night, with no appropriate reaction as of yet.

the events that followed were a combination of wine, deviled eggs, a bit of cheese and lots of shared stories. and laughs. and plans to go out, this evening. as well as a book idea, co-authored by the three of us, in the works.

all of this brought by a pineapple.
<3.

actually, come to think of it, if the pineapple and my air conditioning were to fight, i'd argue the pineapple would be victorious. it's slowly reviving communities. it's all happening.

bienvenidos.

2009-06-04T06:41:00.000-07:00

over the past 5 years i've had 6 different addresses.

in considering this recently, i began to think of the neighbors i've had, and those i've never met. i made a promise to myself to find a unique way to meet my neighbors with every new place i move- a welcoming pineapple. my mom told me once that the pineapple was a traditional symbol of welcome, and so i did a bit of research.

after hesitantly discussing the idea with my roommates (this would their first experience of my spontaneous creativity) over dinner and martinis at three monkeys, they were thrilled. after we got home i walked a half a block to shields market (my choice fan market) and picked up one of the spiky fruits.

I then drafted and wrote a brief note, on the back of a picture of the richmond skyline, and attached it to the pineapple.

and left it on my neighbors' porch.

as of 0900 hours, the pineapple was still patiently waiting on the welcome mat.

right of passage.

2009-06-01T14:20:00.001-07:00

there's a shamefully legitimate reason for my recent blog drought.

about a month ago, I picked up the collegiate times and saw a blurb on the front: Position Open for She Said writer. the She Said column comes out every friday, and is a witty, sarcastic opinion piece on some aspect of college life, compared right beside the 'he said' column. it's entertaining. it's bold. it was a position i was born to have.

so i applied, approximately 2 minutes after the paper came from printing. the responding email introduced the subject for the 'write-off' each applicant was to write a competing article on. the subject? throwing a college party.

here is my piece, which if nothing else, i hope was a damn close second.
............................................................................................................................

She Said- Throwing a College Party

As freshmen entering into college, ‘making it’ through the year includes avoiding accumulating 3 JR’s, not getting caught in a Pritchard fire drill, and evading the freshmen fifteen like the plague. It isn’t until sophomore year, however, that success is defined by the ultimate right of passage: throwing a college party.

Avoiding JR’s becomes eluding the police, fire drills give way to not being skunked into a naked run around your apartment complex, and the terror of a few extra pounds becomes blurred with every flip of a solo cup.

The first college party is a defining moment in any undergraduate drinking-enthusiast’s life; a first experience that becomes not jaded but seasoned with each credit passed. Every detail of your first college party is planned, from each strategic invite to the song to be played at the top of every hour. The pinnacle of the planning period, logically, is the official party Facebook event profile. Days may be spent staring blankly at that notorious blue and white screen, choosing the perfect Event Name and Tagline, while debating between the attraction of a safe ‘house party’ description, or a more entertaining ‘night of mayhem’ or even ‘erotic party’ choice. After hours of deliberation, finally a coordinated picture, a truly ‘unique’ theme decision (always between heaven and hell, 80s, and togas), and detailed report on every type of alcohol that will be served, you invite everyone you know. This is not the party to hold back, after all.

Finally, after spending embarrassing amounts of your parents ‘just-for-essentials’ money (you’ll make it back for sure!) on liquor, natty kegs, solo cups, and Jell-o packets, plus decorations, the evening arrives. Your tiny apartment turns into a fantasy land of slutty angels, sluttier demons, and apathetic college students. As you slip into a hostess-excused drunkenness, even through your dynamic double-vision the night unfolds just as planned, from every game of Kings and random keg stands to shocking beer-pong upsets. However, upon further inspection the following morning, you realize hangover-vision is not quite as forgiving. The brutality of a pounding headache combined with a completely trashed apartment, the reality of being over $300 in debt, plus an expensive noise violation taped to the door brings you back to reality, and you immediately meet the fate of every freshman in attendance the night before, crying as you kneel over the toilet.

The upperclassman, however, has learned a thing or two from years of intensive party researching. With more than 60 credits under his or her belt, time is not wasted on Facebook events, or any planning at all, really. The upperclassman party is simply a perpetual pregame. It begins with, “hey, wanna invite some people over before we go out?” which suddenly becomes a familiar group of 20 or so, with the occasional uncomfortable newcomer. The theme ends up being ‘Will anyone notice I wore this out Tuesday?’ and the drinks of choice are a BYOB buffet of PBR’s, Bud Light, and the occasional pretentious six-pack of Leinenkugel’s. The goal of ‘making it to Sharkey’s by 10’ is rarely achieved, as more often the pregame never ends. The night is filled with more intellectually challenging drinking games, such as Baseball, Cheers Govenah!, and Sardines. Being skunked in beer pong has evolved into voluntary streaking of the drillfield, football field, or other Hokie landmark. And in the morning, you grumble an “I’d move you if you passed out in front of everyone…” to your roommate after waking up on the couch, again, and sigh satisfied that the house looks much like it did the previous morning, plus the fridge is inhabited by a motley crew of leftover beers.

penniless creativity.

2009-05-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

times are hard.

not so much in the larger 'it's just this economy' picture, but in the smaller, no-chance-of-paying-rent picture of my upstairs room on the 2100 block of grove avenue. i've found, however, the immense creativity that grows out of having no money. i ran across a post today on craigslist for someone to appear at a 6 year-old's birthday party dressed as a star war's character... and it occurred to me that, for the right amount of money, i can bear an uncanny resemblance to princess leia.

i went to lunch today with one of my closest friends. we sat in a hidden booth at ipanema and had conversation similar to those we've had sitting across from each other for 7 years now. in speaking of my job search, david asked me what my skills are. my response:

sewing
spanish
dancing, kind of
singing ("you can sing?" "well, i mean, not well, but if you ask me to sing i'm willing to do it.")
leapfrog
basic origami (the sailboat.)
making people smile
cooking ("what do you cook?" "right now, anything i can saute in garlic. or just garlic.")
photography (... although not according to the art-critiquing-challenged study abroad office. )
writing travel guides
catchphrase
listening
secret handshakes

so. if you hear of a position opening for an overall renaissance woman, call me. i'll be drinking pbr's and not buying any new dresses, ever.
but happy, somehow, still.

<3.

untitled-worthy.

2009-04-30T15:07:00.000-07:00

if my google could respond to me, it would say, "national security policy? really?? on a thursday?"

... nothing like the looming presence of 3 essays standing between me and my promising weekend to inspire a mindless blog post.

kentucky derby, do wait for me.

celebrate we will.

2009-04-19T20:38:00.000-07:00

bartender
pig
granny
why i am
dancing nancies
don't drink the water
funny the way it is
recently
crush
spaceman
cornbread
jimi thing
so much to say
anyone seen the bridge
too much
two step
#27
stay (wasting time)

live music should always make you move this much.

dear chicago,

2009-04-15T22:15:00.001-07:00

it's nights like this that i crave music.
and conversation that is honest.

maybe tomorrow.

4x6

2009-04-14T05:59:00.000-07:00

so there's a photo contest at the study abroad office. which, shamelessly, is one of the reasons i went abroad. i kept it in mind everytime i brought my camera out with me for a day of exploring, no matter what city or country i found myself in. here are the finalists i've narrowed it down to... we can only enter 5.

they're in order of my travels- spain, morocco, paris, italy.

in 2 weeks, expect a nondescript post with a picture of one of these photos on a wall beneath a sign reading "1st place".

<3.

radiothon

2009-04-09T13:47:00.000-07:00

this week is radiothon on the wuvt... as i was listening today, they played a song called ibiza sunrise. which made me laugh. and dance. and remember my own ibiza sunrise... i spent the remaining 3 minutes of thumping techno beats juxtaposing my weekend in ibiza with my current weekend plans... 3 days of constant partying at pacha and privilege, sequentially the oldest and biggest clubs in the world, against plans to go "downtown" tonight... sitting on a beach on the favorable side of an island, watching the sunrise over the mediterranean after dancing for 9 hours straight, against walking 4 blocks home after last call at 2am... a crucial hotel breakfast buffet against the solar haus's frequent saturday morning waffle parties...

the irony of the song and my two contradicting lives made me smile, and crave them both.

i turned my key, got out of my car, and walked into my house.
still dancing.

hide and seek.

2009-04-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

tonight, i was making dinner and still stumped as to where i will find the acid-yellow crocodile embossed fabric i need to make my versace knock-off dress for my latest assignment. frustrated, i decided to see if i could get in touch with the owner of fleur, a new richmond fabric shop, thinking maybe she could help.

in doing so, i stumbled upon the store's blog, and spent my mealtime absorbing the thoughts and adventures that have been brewing on robinson st... then i found, arguably, what i was looking for.

geocaching.

are you kidding me? a treasure hunt. a modern-day treasure hunt. my fingers could hardly keep up as i typed in '24060' in the zip code box... and BAM, up popped an entire list of hidden things within a 20-mile radius of the solar haus.

it's listed by coordinates. tempted, i typed in the coordinates at the top of my blog.

how convenient! geocaching in barcelona. all i need is a lucky scratcher and a plane ticket.

it's all happening.

2009-03-30T20:49:00.000-07:00

this is one of the best movie clips, ever. it's just magic.

one of my best friends is going to morocco. and staying in the same small town where i stayed, in the same beach house where i spent countless hours on the rooftop terrace. exploring the same beaches i surfed, napped, and ran around laughing and feeling free. visiting the same shop around the corner where i bought her a souvenir, a charm i didn't get a chance to give her before she left for italy.

ironic? not if you knew us.

she's one of those people that if i asked her to come to morocco with me for one year, i wouldn't have to ask again.

if you are too, expect a call. soon.

sharp turns.

2009-03-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

i was thinking about my arguably obscure title tea leaves and rooftops and what it means, exactly. i chose it when i started my blog, originally to document my semester abroad. in thinking about a glamorous 4 months in spain, i pictured afternoons sitting at outdoor cafe's enjoying conversation as well as sightseeing and incredible views from high places. and thus, tea leaves and rooftops became the contradictory combination that matches my life, on either side of the atlantic. my days are characterized by a series of simple, significant moments and big, unforgettable adventures. and i crave it all.

what i learned this weekend:
the thing about motorcycles is that if you close your eyes, you don't notice the sharp turn ahead signs. and if you're going fast enough, no one can hear you whispering oh shit i'm scared and mostly you just look cool. very cool. in your brown leather jacket, obviously.

park residents.

2009-03-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

just before i left blacksburg for a glamorous week of spring-breaking in the river city, i checked my email to find my out-of-class assignment for the week: do something socially responsible.

the instructions really weren't much more complicated than that, with a few margin and font constraints and an enthusiastic have fun with this!

i began to think about it as i drove down main street, windows down and music at a justifiable windows-down level. three hours later my mood was slightly dampened and the only socially responsible thing on my mind was to speed down the median, laughing loudly at the other cars as i sat in stopped traffic barely 20 miles from blacksburg.

regardless, i did make it home eventually, and filled my weekend with a collage of cafediemtexasbeachmomlunchesoregonhillstickyrice and other things that teased me of a richmond summer. on my way through the city sunday i passed by monroe park... and found my cause.

i spent monday afternoon assembling a totebag worth of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and set off for my selfless act of social responsibility. i ended up on a bench in the middle of monroe park with my bag of sandwiches, my friend and his dog, and a poster that read "Free PBJ's! Just ask me!". it took a few minutes for the park residents' hunger to overcome their skepticism, and my first two patrons walked up. confused, i explained to them that i made some sandwiches. "do ya'll want one?" they smiled. and accepted. and reminded me that if there were any leftover, they'd be there a while.

within an hour i had handed out all of my sandwiches. one man came back for four, but i never refused him. i left monroe park, a place notoriously thought of as dangerous, with an empty totebag and a huge smile on my face. somehow my act of social responsibility ended up ironically personal.

<3.

duets.

2009-03-16T11:59:00.001-07:00

something about the piano in fao schwartz always makes you feel like a kid.
or, if you are a kid, makes you charmingly photographable.

enjoy.

<3.

no need for frommer's.

2009-02-24T10:55:00.000-08:00

one of my best friends is studying abroad in florence this semester. how we managed to miss each other by about 2 weeks in europe i still don't understand, but regardless, i've been living in her sporadic emails and pictures and losing myself in all of her experiences.

she emailed me about 2 weeks ago and all she said was,
I'm going to Barcelona from Feb. 24-27
We're staying at Barcelona Sound Hostel.
Tell me everything that you know.

i waited about a week to respond, not wanting to open my moleskin journal from last semester, shuffle through all of my scribbled addresses and jotted down memories. finally i resigned myself to write her the most honest account of the way i saw and felt the most amazing city i've ever lived in.

i sat outside on my porch in one of those random 70-degree-days-in-february we often see in virginia and wrote her a very personal 6-page travel guide, complete with directions, menu suggestions, bartender names, and anything else i could think of.

i cried through most of it, but when i was done i couldn't help but feel satisfied that i spent 4 months in barcelona and truly felt every part of the city.

if you find yourself traveling to spain anytime soon, or with some extra cash and a thirst for adventure, download my itinerary and enjoy.

pure impulse.

2009-02-21T07:48:00.000-08:00

i've been craving a roadtrip.

my hunger for adventure has only grown since returning from spain... and considering there's no longer an availability of low-budget plane tickets flying me to weekends in parisflorenceibiza, my jeep has become the only sensible portal to continuing my exploration of the world.

i sit next to a freshman friend in one of my classes. i exposed my roadtrip fever to him the other day... i told him to choose a city.
"sure, texas is perfect!" i replied, imagining photographing dusty landscapes, 10-gallon hats, and seasoned saloons.
i told him we should just do it. we could charge our credit cards only with polaroid film, coffee, and road snacks. we'd each compile 25 hours worth of our favorite music and keep the windows down. we'll block the wind with our offensively large cheap sunglasses. we'd wipe the midwest dirt off the lenses and laugh.
when our parents asked, we'd say, "no, we don't really know each other, but it's fine; it's an adventure"

i explained to him- the only real adventures come from pure impulse.

he thinks i'm crazy... anyone interested in being by co-pilot?

¡viva americana!

... some photos to inspire an american feeling.

love at the laundromat.

2009-02-10T18:28:00.000-08:00

yesterday i went to the laundromat. i love the laundromat. there's something oddly calming about watching your clothes spin around in big, old dryers, seeing that one pesky pair of bright yellow undies spinning around in the whites... it's almost hypnotizing. i always bring work that i never do. yesterday, instead, i documented my time there, in hopes that someone else could also appreciate the charm that is valley laundromat.

enjoy.

directions on a napkin.

2009-02-07T12:44:00.000-08:00

there's something so simple and gratifying about being with old friends. and being from a small town. we stick together, we appreciate things, we're honest with each other... and it's refreshing. i woke up this morning on a futon beside my best friend of too many years. we recounted the night, laughed, and walked outside to an endlessly blue 65-degree virginia mountain day. the ride home, even though i still managed to get us lost, was uplifting. there was something so comforting to look out and see nothing but the sky and mountains ahead of me, and in my rearview, my best friend singing loudly in her civic.

i put all the windows down in my jeep. i sang along to my ipod's davematthewsdispatchclaptonsublime mix and felt good that my hair was satisfyingly wind tangled. i felt infinite.

transcontinental tshirt.

2009-02-04T11:59:00.000-08:00

i'm taking a class called global economics and world economy. in the class for the past two weeks, we're supposed to have been reading a book that my professor refers to as simply "Travels of a T-shirt." which, made me excited. excited enough to pick up the book yesterday and then to be letdown by the rest of the title ("in the Global Economy") and then question why i thought it could even be mildly entertaining judging the rest of the books i've bought for the class (Global Capitalism, The Ascent of Money, Free Trade Under Fire, The Market System...).

regardless, it made me think. unfortunately, not so much about the global economy but of a traveling tshirt i myself had the chance to wear. i bought it, ironically, with some money i got for selling a book back, at the beginning of the summer. it somehow became everything my summer was... on the days i had off, i would put on my lime green bathing suit, my cutoffs, and the tshirt and make it a point to only go places i could ride my bike to. happily i would ride downtown to take pictures, ride to the market, ride to the river with friends, ride to lunch dates... it was perfect. the tshirt was lightweight, loose-fitting, and kept up with all of my adventures. one day in particular i rode to 711 to pick up a slurpee before going to belle isle with a friend. i got 20 ounces of everyflavorbutcoke as always, and when i came outside i realized that it would be quite hard to ride all the way there with one hand. i drank down the slurpee enough to tilt it into my cupholder and headed down to the river. once the road flattened out, i felt safe enough to reach down and grab the slurpee and continue enjoying it. i was slurpping away when BAM! a surprise patch of richmond cobblestone popped up. and consequently my slurpee top popped off. and my bright reddish slurpee popped up all over my tshirt. i laughed. hard. and then got out my tide pen and took care of my tshirt and went on to have a lazy day relaxing on the rocks by the river with some good conversation.

my tshirt, i think, enjoyed my travels. i wore it in the airport when i flew off to start the best semester of my life... and then continued to wear it for the first 4 days in spain until heathrow airport decided to send me the rest of my luggage.

my tshirt came with me to morocco. one evening we were out on the beach at sunset and decided to go for a swim. i tucked my tshirt and cutoffs safely beneath my rainbows and dove in in my limegreen bathing suit. after a while, we got out and ran up to our stuff... to find the only thing that had somehow blown away was my tshirt. i ran in the direction of the wind and searched up and down the beach. after a while i finally resigned myself to realizing that my travels with the tshirt were done, and our travels from then on would assume different paths. i think about it every now and then, where it may be, who could be wearing it and what they are doing in it, my transcontinental tshirt.

and i smile.

banana!

reasonable offer

2009-01-21T19:24:00.000-08:00

so my first day of classes went as the first day of classes always goes for me... no matter how much i prepare, or think i've prepared, i always begin the semester with some inevitable failures. this time, for example, i forgot it was in fact tuesday and not monday. so i arrived on campus knowing only my monday schedule... and, well, the day went on from there.

i did, however, have a defining moment as i sat in a seminar class i decided to pick up about an hour before the class began. i slipped in the back a few minutes late, and sat down beside a boy who introduced himself as mike after i asked, and had little else to say after that. the class is one of those after-you-take-this-you'll-know-exactly-what-to-do-with-your-life classes, even splitting the students into two tracks, one for those who want a career and one for those interested in grad school. which, of course, leaves those who aren't sure feeling... well, trackless i suppose.

towards the end of class, the grad student who was teaching asked us to take out a sheet of paper (i owe you one, mike) and write our names, the date, and this question at the top: Who Are You?

does it get more ambiguously blunt than that? honestly. somehow though, after my initial reaction, i knew exactly what to say. my hand scribbled as fast as it could on the paper, hardly able to keep up. and after the 2 minutes alotted to summing up our entire beings, my paper was full. and messy. and my mind was still buzzing with more things to put down.

i glanced over at mike's. he had 3 bullets, and what appeared to be a rubber pen.

refreshing, you know? to know yourself. i recommend it.

on another note, i love the random stuff people actually try to sell on craigslist...
especially in blacksburg.

perpetual lateness.

2009-01-19T14:46:00.001-08:00

is it too late to post a christmas photo?

not when it's this fantastic.

benches.

2009-01-19T11:41:00.001-08:00

i'm a sucker for good conversation. i really am. so much so that i often find myself getting into bed at 5am after a few glasses of wine and more words than i can account for.

i was bored yesterday and before i knew it i was reliving every part of my daytrip to sitges. i re-sampled the cava, re-saw all the artwork, re-felt the sand in my toes and re-explored every part of the charming town. and it was uplifting and intoxicating and left me right back where i am now.

i found myself the other night sitting in a faux-warm starbucks across from a friend and drinking a latte. and there was an old man sitting at the counter. i observed him, his interactions, his conversations, for about an hour. and i found myself wildly jealous, somehow. he was a portrait of satisfaction. he sat there beside his wife, drinking his grande brewed coffee, reading the sunday paper and catching up with the employees. when he was done, he said goodbye and see you next week and the two of them left.

i realized that my plan for that evening was to drink something soothing, enjoy some good conversation, and laugh too loudly. instead i was concerned that i was at starbucks rather than supporting a local shop. i was letdown that the coffee in america could never compare to cafe con leche and that in general i wasn't greeted in spanish. or greeted at all. i was irritated that i saw three people from my high school. i was met with the weight of a well overdue but sufficiently overdone conversation spotted with drawn-out silences and unwelcome melancholy rather than the lighthearted inspirational one i was hoping for. i left saying goodbye to no one, walking beside no one, and couldn't shake the shattered image of the friend who had been sitting across from me, the ex-lover/boyfriend/person who used to make me whole.

i need to shake this. i'm going to the thrift store.

laundry.

2009-01-16T20:09:00.000-08:00

what i attempted tonight for 15minutes, approximately:
notaseasyasit looks.

i've come to the conclusion that i must not like to sleep. i have no idea why i tried to occupy my time folding a dollar bill (which, if i might add, i used a five) to make it look like an item of clothing, but i thought it would be really neat.

...

i got stuck around step7 and then got frustrated and then confused as to why i wasn't in bed considering i have to wake up early and realized mr lincoln probably prefers life not as an imitation miniature dress shirt anyway and decided to update my blog.

which, i've tried to do. since... well, since my arrival back in the states. but it kept making me sad. i'd open it with ideas i couldn't wait to post, but then i'd remember the reason i started a blog, glance at my pictures, hear my voice from across an ocean.... and it made me sad. i miss it.

and, to account for my blog drought i have more than a webpage worth of memories and stories. so let's talk.

until then, a bit of irony:
i'm back in blacksburg now and have been for almost a week. yesterday i asked where the washer and dryer was in our house considering i couldn't find it, to which deanna laughed and replied, "hope you like the laundromat".

... somehow i'm craving my oh-so-complained-about tiny spanish washing machine and clothesline on the balcony. and everything else that was barcelona.

BA293

2008-12-18T23:43:00.000-08:00

my flight leaves at 1310.

i don't know what else to say really.

ohhh valencia, tarragona.

2008-11-21T08:04:00.000-08:00

mirablau.

2008-10-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

i never realized that i've never ridden on a motorcycle until tonight.
when i rode on a motorcycle.

vickychristinabarcelona. if you haven't seen it, see it now.

recoger las camas.

2008-10-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

so, spain had a little more of a taste of mechanicsville the past ten days. a little taste in the form of robby saady, with tomato bread on the side.

it started with me on the train to the airport, anxious like a 5-year old. i finally got there and ran all the way to 'llegadas' and screamed when i saw him. we took the train back. i offered him some wine from my leather wine flask. we laughed at everything... namely my complete blissful ignorance of where we were or anything that was going on.

we went to sorli discau with robby's luggage and picked up our travel snacks: vino tinto, baguette, manchego, jamon. we got back to the lovely sant jordi 5 and i gave him the grand tour of our charming piso. he showered, i packed... haha packing is so funny... and we left for the train station.

we boarded a night train, a hotel night train, headed towards seville, eta: 7am. our room was cute. complete with a recoger las camas service. we stayed up late drinking wine and me telling robby of all of my ridiculous adventures. we finally slept for a little while. i kept one eye opened, knowing robby's bunk was about to fall and smash my head.

there was some dreadful lightning when we woke up. haha. kind of.

we got to seville and it was a beautiful morning. we took a cab to the hotel cervantes, tucked between some of the crazily planned streets in seville. after our check in and some tomato bread in a cafe nearby, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city. which was so beautiful. we bought sorpresas, two for one euro, had tapas, icecream, had our fortunes read and then were cheated by the 'fortune teller' ( mujer, el no puede comprenderte.), climbed to the tower in the beautiful cathedral, and took lots of pictures. we had caiprinhas at a little american bar (que divertido... the national drink of brazil at an american bar in the heart of one of spain's most historic city's.) dinner was lovely. we went to a bar beside the restaurant, and went back to our hotel.

i read in my travel guide, "if a person is to only see two cities in spain, let them be toledo and seville"

check.

s'morocco.

2008-10-25T06:02:00.000-07:00

haha, get it? like s'mores?

ok, yeah, so i know... i haven't blogged in like, a really long time. here's the first excuse: i was in africa. yes, morocco. where they still take donkey-taxi's. really. so needless to say there was no blogging in morocco.... let me tell you what there was though.

after a very entertaining plane ride, we arrived the first funny thing was the currency exchange... something that hasn't been funny in the least bit in europe, but was very funny in morocco. we all walked away from the atms with 2000 moroccon dollars in our pockets. of course, me being perpetually late, there was no room on the bus for me joe and niel. thus arrives the first taxi ever made. literally. only one window went down. it was about 80degrees, very sandy and flies everywhere. so we get in the taxi and pull out behind the bus. about 5 minutes later, the bus turns left at a stop light. our driver, with another agenda and no english/spanish skills therefore no way to communicate with us, decides to go straight. good. and there i was, imagining my posthumous blog titled "and that's how i died in morocco."

he managed to let us know that that car wouldn't have made it the 4 hours to where we were staying (by the way, everyone told us it was one hour... ). so we had to switch taxi's. and drivers. to an even worse taxi with a driver who was convinced we knew french and made no other attempts to communicate.

the four hour drive was... intense. we were all exhausted but too afraid to sleep. i have come to the conclusion that in order to obtain a drivers license in morocco you only have to have two arms with hands attached. there are no other requirements. they all drive like crazies. we were on a two-lane road the entire way playing chicken with trucks piled a mile high with hay. i was so scared. i finally was able to doze off for a few minutes to be awoken to us pulled over by a moroccon cop, our driver screaming at him and then opening the trunk to show him our luggage and most likely making him an offer of one scared american girl and 3 suitcases. (hence, again, "and that's how i died in morocco...").

the remainder of the week went a little more smoothly and overall very moroccan-ny. we stayed in tagazhout, a very very small little town, in a house at the top of a street. from our rooftop terrace we could see the ocean... as well as the children chasing goats in the street.

we spent a lot of time at different beaches, surfing and relaxing. the beaches were beautiful. we went to the bath house, which was an experience. it's like this big tile room with faucets and you get a big bucket and a little scoop bucket, fill it with water, and then go to a little area between the naked moroccon women soaping each other up (really.) and try and clean yourself. that's where they go for their weekly baths. needless to say we all kept our bikinis on and then went home and showered.

we went to a few different markets, which were crazy. the one in agadhir was ridiculous. apparently the biggest one in africa (again, i feel like everything on this trip is some superlative... the biggest, the oldest, whatever. i mean, i believe it i guess.) it was really fun. you just barter with them. i bought a bunch of good stuff, including a leather bag that he wanted to sell me for 720durham and i paid 200 for (20 euro...). the only thing is, it smells. like feet. badly. stinky bag.

i bought some cool fabric too. and tiny, sweet bananas. delicious.

one of the days we were all out in the water, trying to surf, and i could see that the horizon started to look a little odd. about 5 minutes later we were caught in the middle of a ridiculous sandstorm. the waves got really rough and we couldn't even see the shore anymore, or anything really. it was crazy and scary. somehow we all managed to paddle to safety and find all of our stuff and get back to the vans.

we rode camels up the mountain-ish thing behind our house, which was so fun. camels are very tall. i was scared. just look at the pictures before you make fun of me. it was scary.

probably my favorite thing was one evening we rode 4-wheelers (which everyone else calls quads?) on the beach at sunset. it was so so cool. we like rode through this crazy desert path and then onto the beach, which was wide and empty. the sunset was the prettiest i've seen. we raced back up the beach.

we had another "and that's how i died in morocco" moment on the streets one night... even my blog isn't safe, so i'll save that story. haha.

we spent our nights on the terrace, relaxing and laughing and listening to music. but mostly laughing. and then stealing cheese. and not being able to fall asleep because we all kept cracking up on our bunks. so funny.

and so, morocco. lots of flies. beautiful beaches. funny people. stamp on my passport.

<3.

chica, tu con tantas curvas y yo sin frenos.

2008-10-05T11:17:00.000-07:00

wow.

i think what i love most about being here is waking up and having no idea what my day will be like, and then all of the crazy adventures that unfold.

saturday we got up and met with ricardo to go out to a racetrack. he races as a hobby so we all came out to this formula one track, ate hotdogs, and then we each took turns putting on a helmet and riding shotgun in his black porsche. i sat there screaming, watching the spedometer hit 252kilometers an hour.... as in really really fast. as in please don't tell me what that is in mph because i will need to change my pants again.

that night we went out for sushi annnnnnd sake bombs... which is so so much more fun than i ever imagined. we said sake chants and drank and ate amazing sushi. then we went to small bar and had probably the best shot i've ever had... consisting of a lemon covered in coffee and sugar and a shot of vodka. thennn we finally found the jazz bar and spent the rest of the night salsa dancing. it was amazing.

today, the picasso museum all day. i probably could have stayed longer. it was so fun. we went around to a few shops, bought some cool books and things.

VIP

2008-09-27T13:56:00.000-07:00

ok, yes, i know what VIP stands for... but making up acronyms is so much more fun.

i feel like our whole trip we've been vip in one way or another.

thursday night we had another bad cabman experience. this one not only knew where nothing in the city was, but he also did not speak. just shook his head repeatedly. we ended up at one of the many chupitos, which always makes for a good start to the night. lots of fire, shots, and british men later, we headed to otto zutz... upon entering we were escorted up to the VIP area to enjoy dancing withouth 4701239321 people sweating on top of you as well as free rum and cokes.

the night was fun. hiphop instead of techno made us feel at home and all the spanish people made us feel like badasses. we stayed out and danced the whole night.

friday was sitges, our daytrip. we went to cordoniu, the oldest champagnery (don't know if that's the right word or not... if you know what is good for you.) in europe. it was insanely big. as in 125 million bottles of 'cava' big. we rode this little mrtoadswildride-esque train through tons of dark cellar hallways. it was so fun. then we sampled the cava and the cava man used me to demonstrate how to hold the glass... which was challenging.

sitges was charming- a little beach town with lots of character. it wasn't warm enough for the beach so we just walked around and explored and took lots of pictures. i really need to find a place to develop my film.

last night we went to razzamatazz... which always makes me laugh because i think of that snl skit... you know the one.
razzamatazz was huge. and crazy. and i tried to find the exit and was invited to the vip level. and then i came home. and ate a sandwich.

living is a hostel is fun because we always wake up with new random foreign neighbors.

hostage situation.

2008-09-27T10:36:00.000-07:00

so.

wednesday was the biggest day of merce, the celebration that was going on here pretty much all last week. we spent the day walking around the city, seeing outdoor concerts and parades and eating gelato. there were people everywhere and it was so exciting. at 10pm we all went to placa espanya, right in front of the palace to see the fountain show and fireworks...

let me just say that i love fireworks. this 4th of july i didn't get to see any. i saw dave matthews, but no fireworks. wednesday night more than made up for it... the fireworks and fountain show and music and atmosphere was all so amazing. i posted a video... watch it. it was awesome.

obviously there were a million people out there. we managed to meet up with some friends and head to the next closest metro stop... which, of course was insanely crowded. and, considering my luck had been going well and my life was almost back in order... we were about at our stop and i reached into my verysafelittlebagthatsitsrightatmyhipboneandisvirtuallyunrobbable to find my phone... which suddenly was missing. MIA. no phone. anywhere.

instantly i was like, this is not happening. there is just no way this is happening. if it was stolen, my camera and all of my money was still there... and how would someone have reached in there without me knowing? anyway was mad. and confused. i took the subway back to the station we were at and looked around... nothing. finally i met back up with my friends and tried calling my phone about a hundred times. finally, all of a sudden someone answered. someone named miguel. someone who better watch his back because he has accumulated so much bad karma i wouldn't be surprised if he spontaneously combusted like right now.

miguel so charmingly asked my name, and then oye amor, how old are you? and from there told me if i wanted my phone back i had to come alone to his apartment and drink whiskey with him.

hostage. who the hell holds a phone hostage?

i gathered an army of friends, with a few strong boys, and we were prepared to meet him somewhere... and of course miguel stopped answering my phone all together.

so, i stopped my service. and once again i am phoneless until monday. however, i am also whiskeyandkidnapped-less as well, so things aren't all that bad i guess.

i<3IBZ.

2008-09-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

ibizaibizaibiza.

so that's where i was last weekend... which, i suppose, lends to part of the reason why i haven't updated my blog in a while. the ibiza recovery/pullyourlifebacktogether/whatthehellhappened took a while.

but now i'm here. and ibiza was incredible... even wilder than the travel channel makes it out to be. when we first for there our cab driver from the the airport was seriously crazy. he had no idea how to get anywhere and insisted on asking every tourist on the street if they knew where "SOUL BEAIAY" is... it was an adventure.

the first night we went to pacha, the oldest club in europe... which was wild. they had this insane dj and these storm troopers that shot out sparks and snowy stuff and all out craziness. after the dj we found a floor with just random american music... think mr. jones and me to frank sinatra to hip hop to anything that would keep you there dancing all night until 6am. then we went to the beach and watched the sunrise on the beach and had a big hotel breakfast. and then slept.

it took me and my roomies 4 hours by bus to get back to our hotel. an angel at the farmacia saved me with some antibacterial eyedrops and turned all of our luck around. when we got back we tried to relax by the pool, but about 30 middle-age pale british men tried their best to prevent us from doing so.

friday night we had a dinner date. quite a dinner date. we met ricardo on the plane... or, kelsey did rather. she has such a skill for meeting people, anywhere. so friday night we met ricardo and 10 of his friends at a small outdoor restaurant, tucked away down a dirt road and right next to the sea. it was so so pretty. we had caiprinhas and lots of wine and fresh seafood.

ricardo had his personal taxi then take us to privelege, then biggest club in the world. literally. it was insane. we danced around until 6am when we called our taximan and he took us to the airport. i still don't know how we managed to board our plane, land in barcelona, catch the bus and then the subway and walk home and all finally get in bed. craziness.

i<3ibz.

annnnnnd i am late. we are going out. i will have to update this later.

<3.

kerouac

2008-09-17T15:50:00.000-07:00

wc williams described jack kerouac's writing as "an enclosure of all that might have been made articulate, felt, tasted, witnessed, and confessed as actual to one's own life, for better or worst, at last."

i read this in the introduction of kerouac's Book of Blues while on the metro yesterday and it captured me, because i feel like that's exactly what this trip, this city is like. in a word, irrepressible.
And i crave it.

i feel so alive here. just sitting, writing, feeling the night breeze, it fills me. i am overwhelmed by this liberating independence. it's incredible.

ole.

yo no soy marinero, soy capitan

2008-09-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

this weekend was so lovely.

i finally had time to really explore the city i'm living in. friday we rented bikes and biked up the coast a ways, and found some incredible parks. they have the coolest things to play on, like little tiles that make musical sounds and big silver bowls that spin you around. it was so fun; we played and made little spanish friends.

after that we had one of those long, outdoor, spanish dinners with wine and conversation and all good things. we ate for over 2 hours. and then just walked around the city and took it in. went up to the palace which overlooked the entire city. heard some spanish guitar. it is so so pretty here. especially around the gothic quarter. i just love it.

saturday was easy. it was just an easy saturday. the kind where you make a big brunch and have mimosas and all of a sudden it's 4pm and you're still eating eggs and playing games. (ummm, champagne is on the list.)

after our long brunch a longer walk to la parc guell, a park by guadi... incredible. gorgeous views. amazing architecture.

on the walk back we got some dark chocolate and a basil plant, a great addition to our apartment. in honor of it we made caprese salad for lunch today.

yesterday we went on a mediterranean dinner cruise. it was so so pretty. wine and a saxophone player and blue water. of course i asked to drive the boat. of course they let me. yo no soy marinero soy capitan, soy capitan, soy capitannnn.

i just love it here. tonight is the mexican fiesta and all the taquitos and margaritas that come with it. ole.

2008-09-13T05:39:00.000-07:00

visca catalonia!

2008-09-11T12:05:00.000-07:00

i have been craving songs. physically craving. i don't know why really, maybe it's for something familiar. maybe it's for something substantial i don't know. but right now it's holiday in spain, inevitably. i could listen to it all day.

so yesterday was catalonia day. catalonia is the region of spain where i reside (whoa. someone in my apartment area is def singing opera. pavarati. ole.) and they want to be independent of spain. the day was filled with festivities and excitement and red and yellow striped flags. red and yellow striped flags that we bought for 11 euros. red and yellow striped flags that we bought for 11 euros and then made into dresses. and wore them out last night. and catalonia went wild.

on our way from the cab (we now have a personal cab driver. thanks to our dresses. and our american charm.) to our friends' house, which was about a 5 minute walk, we were stopped 4 times because people wanted to have their picture taken with us. we were such celebrities. que bueno.

we went and saw dj tiesto last night. it was insane. seriously insane. he played from 3am to 5am insane.

i love being on hold with bank of america when all i want to do is buy a bike and explore the city.

<3 onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MvEteCBxqxw/SMltI4S108I/AAAAAAAAACw/1Seoh9SrT4k/s1600-h/Spain+137.jpg">

ay de mi.

2008-09-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

there has been an internet drought in my flat (i know i'm not in london. i'm still saying flat. and rubbish bin. deal with it.) and my blog was suffering.

so here i am. sharing a baguette with kelsey who just got back from the open-air market at las ramblas. and she did not buy me my bunny. my bunnito. my by bunnito negro. dammit.

i'm sitting at the table beside our balcony, which, if you need a visual i'll help you out. you know that matisse painting with the big open balcony doors? the really pretty one? yeah. well it's kind of like that. except a little less colorful. and the view is of another apartment building. our neighbor is a tuba player so we are constantly hearing tuba scales. and we're above some sort of daycare and therefore enjoy hurling apples and the chiquititos during recess.

oooh, i joined meetups.com! (thanks linds). i am meetingup with some meetup buddies! i was so very tempted to join the "Barcelonabuzz internet professionals group" or the "barcelona inline skating" group, i settled for a cultural events group for starters. i'm thinking of making my own meetup. like, maybe... people who like to do handstands. i mean we could meet anywhere it would be awesome. oooh or perhaps a laundry group. people could get together and do my laundry for me. or an i like to pick leaves group. because i like to pick leaves. your thoughts?

the nightlife here is still delicioso. deliciosisimo. we went to a crazy club last night called shoko. i finally got to meet the infamous "kike" (pronounced keekay). he's this guy who facebooks everyone and invites people to whatever is going down that night. it's really kind of funny. you can like text him anytime and there are always messages that are like "yo whatup it's your boy kike. opium bar is hot tonight." yadda yadda. he gave us these Elite Barcelona bands to wear because we are so elite. i haven't taken it off yet. anyway, so we met him. free drinks. dancing in the dj booth. muy elite.

ok i should probably shower. we went to the beach after class and the mediterranean is very salty. i am like a big salty monster. with wild hair.

saturday- a day to pull your life together.

2008-09-06T05:05:00.000-07:00

i am being proactive about my situation. after about 7 failed attempts to get the money my dad wired me and the cell phone that is waiting for me, i've decided today it's all going to work out. the cell phone place isn't opened, but i'll get that money dammit. or a small spanish child i can hold for ransom.

chupititititos are dangerous. last night we went to a shot bar, el gato negro, where they have probably about 300 different types of shots. livia and i started with one called creepshow, which instantly got us off on the right foot. the best one was called boyscout. they make a little fire on the bar, hand you a stick with a marshmallow to roast, then you dip the mallow in your shot, eat it, and take the shot. it was pretty crazy.

the beach yesterday was beautiful and just what i needed. just to relax a while and take in the numerous spanish boobies and men in speedos. haha. no really though it was great.

ok. that is all for now. i just finished my chicken salad sandwich. it's gorgeous outside. i am washing my face, putting on my bathing suit and freshly-mended jorts, grabbing my camera and getting everything i need and finding some money. and then going to the beach.

bah.

2008-09-04T07:56:00.000-07:00

oh, and i ripped my jorts. they're going to need some serious mending.

ok.

2008-09-04T07:12:00.000-07:00

ok.

they are icecream and ham fiends here. there are icecream bars everywhere. i mean all over the place. and eva longoria is posed sexily eating icecream on all the ads, and i know she doesn't eat icecream.

the ham is even more rampant. ham everywhere. in madrid i passed "el museo de jamon"... the ham museum. a museum of ham. imagine yourself there. really.

so my bag is gone, but things are getting better. i mean, at least it wasn't a damn scooter thief.

we left toledo yesterday morning. i loved toledo. it was a super old city with a wall around it and narrow little curvy streets to get lost on. the last night we were there all of ISA invaded this old monastery-turned-club which was ridiculous. lots of tequila and dancing.

no one here has dryers. we have to put our clothes on and run around real fast.

<3.

helado, jamon, y mala suerte

2008-09-04T06:25:00.000-07:00

i'm in barcelona.

i'm in barcelona and i'm in my apartment with my roomates. our very, well, cozy apartment.

drinking red wine.

last night my pink hobo clutch was stolen. as in, my pink hobo clutch, my driver's license, my hokie p, my credit cards, my debit cards, my cell phone, a copy of my passport, the keys to my apartment, and a goodbye note from robby.

OH, and. i left ted in toledo.

i really hope my mala suerte ends here.

and so i'm drinking red wine and taking deep breaths and reminding myself that pink leather is terrible at hiding dirt.

chasing vincent chase and other such adventuras

2008-08-31T09:57:00.000-07:00

jbrands, a grey v-neck, and my sam edelman gladiators. ay de mi.

i'm sitting in a cafe/market, 'vips' if you will, staring at a refrigerator filled with soda bottles dressed in potato chip bags and little packaged triangle sandwiches, among other entertainment.

kelsey and i finally found somewhere with internet that wasn't 15euro... actually, i hardly believed the tiny "wifi-gratis" sign on the door.

so my adventure began what honestly seems like weeks ago, on friday. of course it was raining because it's always raining on days like that, days that you know you're going to be sad anyway. i can't tell if i appreciate the sun not shining and mocking my sadness, or if i wish it would be there to brighten things up. either way, it was equal parts sad and rain. all the way to the airport.

when i got there i had a minor luggage crisis, having to stuff what i could into my backpack and check my fully-packed-and-prepared-for-anything intended carry-on. so instead of having enough clothing for 5 days, all of my bathroom things, a pillow and blanket and ted, 3 books, earplugs, and an eyemask, i pretty much had nothing but my laptop, cameras, and travelguide.

i was rushed into a goodbye that mirrored nothing of the one planned in my head. i cried all the way through security, and waved goodbye to robby and my dad between the crowds of people. i walked down an escalator and it hit me that i was alone. my plane didn't leave for another 3 hours and i wouldn't be back for another four months and i was alone.

i pulled myself together as best as i could and found a shuttle to my gate, figuring i'd check it out and get something to eat. i was craving a cobb salad, something i think i'll always crave before i get on a plane because of the first time i ever flew.

on the shuttle i rechecked my stuffed bag to see what i'd managed to bring along for my 7 hour flight. as we rounded the terminals i saw something that made me ignore all of the millions of thoughts running through my head....

the entourage virgin airplane.

!!!
i scribbled "d79" on my hand and as my shuttle arrived at my destination, i got off and did what any other level-headed 21-year old girl about to spend a semester abroad would do. i jumped back on another shuttle and headed to gate d79 to find adrian grenier.

i raced through the airport, which by the way, is really long. really, really long. and d79 is at the very end. and my backpack was giving me swack. (if you get that, i know you're laughing.)

i finally made it to the gate just in time to see the plane outside and the boarding door closing. there were two airport workers and two other people standing there talking excitedly, taking pictures out the window. i'd missed him by about 1 minute.

defeated, i began the even longer walk back to find my gate. i got a $10 'cobb' salad that was terrible, and a $6 bud light that made me feel american. and boarded my plane for what ended up being the most uncomfortable plane ride of my life.

conveniently, there was a beast man snoring behind me the entire way. i was sandwiched in the middle of a large man and a very nice older woman. i slept not at all. i watched a jude law movie and thought all of my thoughts in a british accent until i landed in london at 7am.

i raced to catch my next flight just in time. i slept the 2 hours to madrid.

i met up with some other girls from my program in the madrid airport, and together we got incredible lost, only managed to find half of our luggage, were somehow dumbfounded that everyone was speaking spanish, were abandoned by our program directors, and mostly just laughed at the whole situation.

when we finally arrived at the hotel, i met my other roomies who i love. we checked in, had a meeting, and went out into the city to find some dinner. when we got back to the hotel to get ready, i realized how incredibly lost i was without all of my luggage. livia and i went out so i could by some shampoo, and we added in a 2.90euro bottle of white wine.

after getting ready, finishing the wine and a few more at the hotel bar, we met up with some other friends and hailed a cab to an 8-story club in the center of the city- El Kapital. it was wild. we got to know each other, laughed, danced, and took in the night.

by 5am we were back at out hotel and i realized that on top of the non-sleep from the plane, i had 2 hours before we had to be awake for our trip to el escondrial. yikes.

alas, we made it. and it was lovely. the trip, the town, and the nap on the bus there and back.

coffee?

2008-08-28T06:41:00.000-07:00

i'm leaving tomorrow. and i still haven't packed.

i'm going to get coffee with dev.

scooter thieves

2008-08-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

so i leave in 2 days.

2 days. as in tomorrow i'll be saying "i leave tomorrow."
um.

something tells me i should be doing something right now. like stuffing all of my belongings into the ONE bag british airways is so kindly allowing me. or figuring out how to get from Terminal 4 to Terminal 1 in the Heathrow airport during my measly hour and 20 minute layover. or attempting to brush up on my spanish so i'm not totally lost.

instead, my number one concern is that apparently there is no peanutbutter in spain. NONE. yeah. so no peanutbutter for me. and i love peanut butter. i've been so worried about this that last night, after borrowing a shaker of salt to take farewell tequila shots with some friends, i asked if i should return the peanut butter. it keeps creeping into my conversations.

to add to my angst about the lack of jif and the fact that my "equipaje" isn't packing itself, i finally decided to read through my isa orientation guide, and apparently there are thieves on scooters in spain that take your bags and scoot away with them. fortunately, on an average day my "bolsero" contains 2 books, a bottle of water, my wallet, both of my cameras, my phone, multiple wine corks, a change of clothes, and about 6 tubes of lipstick i never use.

they won't make it far.

oatmeal pancakes

2008-08-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

most recent obsessions: polaroids. watermelon. josh rouse.

today was the perfect day to start my blog because i'm in one of those moods. one of those moods that has you doing advertisements for king arthur's flour in an english accent at 10am. one of those moods that has you creating cactus-shaped-pancakes (that never really look like cactuses). one of those moods that could only have been preceded by last call at cafe diem with the djwilliams projekt. (if you haven't been, go. really.)

and so i woke up. robby and i made oatmeal pancakes. i danced in the kitchen to josh rouse. i got frustrated with the scanner and am asking you to imagine the polaroids i took at the watermelon festival sunday until further notice. i'm riding my bike to have lunch with amrou to talk about spain. which, by the way, is happening in fifteen days. one reason i am documenting the last part of my richmond summer.

it's still cloudy out. i'm wearing my bathing suit under my shorts because i believe in sunshine.