you know the routine.

Like with most things in my life right now, I decided that I needed some direction with this blog. I thought about what I am interested in (which is only interesting things, of course) and what it came down to was this: words, music, fashion, films with quirky people in them, environmentally conscious living, and cracking jokes. Clearly, I am interested in many interesting things.

So, even though there a bunch of blogs about all of the above, I decided I would try my hand at making this blog one more devoted to the culture of everyday life. That means random music reviews, random film reviews, random fashion reviews, etc. I will still have my random life rantings too!

And so to begin. Last night I fell in love with technicolor images being projected from my TV onto my eyeballs. Context: I was social for about 45 minutes, which is probably my max currently, and met an old friend for drinks in Burlington. Then he went off, and I got sushi and drove home listening to 3 different renditions of "Wild World" and trying not to get toooo annoyed at the out of stater who thought the speed limit was 25 miles an hour. I came home to an empty house, so plopped down on the couch with my tuna rolls and peanut noodles, and 'Youth in Revolt,' the film with Michael Cera, by Miguel Arteta. At first I was dubious (Sinatra, really? Slightly too cliche) but it was the dead-end images that grabbed me in, and the often too overt sexually overtones that give the whole film a hazy, burn-out feel. Enter Francois, Cera's evil without shame alter ego, in his white pants and cigarette glued to his lips, and the sexual overtones because sexual fury. Poor Nicky. I wasn't sure who to root for, Sheney and her conniving ways forcing Francois into a rat race out of his life, or Nicky, who only wants to prove himself to Sheney in a quite round-about and very illegal manner.

The soundtrack was a lo-fi, stoner one featuring Fruit Bats and Little Wings, which at times felt too sticky sweet, but made you fall for Cera in his too-short pants and too-tight logo tees that much more. The best music scene: Fatlip blasting from the convertible as Cera and his cougar mother and her boyfriend rolled into the trailer park, kicking up dust.

Cera confirms his hipster boy status in this film, and I confirmed my longings to redo high school, all the while telling myself it was okay not to be social for on yet another summer weekend.

Enjoy the eye candy.

the party's crashing us now.

Clearly, the message here is that I am terrible at keeping up with this. I really want to be an actual blogger person, but my creative juices are just blahhhh after a day of work, tennis etc.

You know that feeling of being lifting out of yourself and into a higher place? That sounded religious. But seriously, when you are like floating above and observing? That happened a few times last night. I was at the Of Montreal show, and fell in love with the world again. Funny that listening to men wearing glitter make-up and tight purple pants made me do that, but eh, whatever works.

True creativity is hard to come by, yet is something that we all strive for, in our speech, dress, Facebook profiles, cars, whatever. Individualism is almost dead. Almost. Yet Kevin Barnes made me once again believe that people are unique. Or was it the pigs that made me believe? Doesn't matter. "The Past is a Grotesque Animal" was where it actually hit me- once the past is past, it is past.

So dance around in purple pants (I got mine at TJ Maxx, if you are wondering), wear feathers around your head, sing off-key at the top of your lungs, pretend you are Darth Vader, fall in love (trust me, it is a wonderful feeling), stay in love, be in love with the world and everybody around you, be a party person dancing to the indie stars, wear bright yellow jelly sandals even though you are now 21 years old... the list goes on. "Don't worry about a thing you know your path is true, just ease your mind, have a banana or two"

Get creative, and stay creative.

Enjoy the wonderful feeling of the world being new again.

Image from www.ofmontreal.net

suddenly it occurs to me

I have 9.5 (I was born at 7 ish AM June 23, 1989) hours left of being 20. That means I have 4 years to go until 25, 9 until 30, and am 8 years from my 13th birthday. holy. effing. shit. I am old.

Instead of being thrilled that I can now get my social drink on without worried about that little thing called being underage, I am terrified to the point of complete breakdown at the fact that my "younger years" are literally flying by me and I am pretty much clinging on to a string that is about to break from the force of me trying to pretend time does not actually exist. "Time" timing is everything. There is no time. I haven't had time for anything but. Wind was blowing, time stood still. Time.

I love watches. I asked for a new, colorful, chunky one for my birthday. That is probably my biggest walking irony. I hate time but love having it on me. I can't go to bed if the time does not end in 0 or 5, nor can I wake up if it 6:46 and not 6:45, per say. Many days I sit at my work desk, checking the time every hour or so, wondering when it is time for me to leave. I learned timing is everything, and we finally got it right.

Time is not measured by minutes or seconds or hours or days or years. Time is measured by fullness, lives lived and lives touched, experiences created, adventures tried, fears conquered, tears shed, obstacles met, bliss touched, pain and emptiness and sorrow that in the end makes us who we are, love felt, connections, moments when that make you think "that just happened." I have experienced all of these things. In that respect, I love time. Give it time, time heals, without time the world be chaos.

I want to experience the chaos of the world without time. I want to fall freely down down down in a timeless, zen-like state. I want to stand on the edge and feel time crash around me till I become one with it.

My impending 21st has made me realize that Jerry Garcia was right. It is "such a long, long time to be gone and a short, short time to be there"

Be present. Embrace time. Accept the chaos that comes with moving forward. Cry or yell or scream or be silent or run all night or drive all day or stay in bed with the covers on but then move on and laugh. Live, that is all we have time for.

Enjoy the time of your life.

not much of this makes sense to me.

Confession. I have never actually made it through Jack Kerouac's "On The Road." I am an English major, so when I tell people this they usually respond with a huh? The truth is that I haven't yet been in the right mental state to read it. Sal Paradise is in a state of flux, he is after all, traveling across the open roads of Western America. He is searching for a form of humanity, an authenticity that intellectualism doesn't quite grasp. His name, however, is quite ironic because if he is called "Paradise" you would think he would be able to find it anywhere, even in a crammed apartment with his aunt in New York, but I guess not. Poor kid. Instead, he is looking for real life experiences, pretty girls, apple pie and ice cream, a reason to live. Aren't we all? So why haven't I ever made it (until today) past the first 3 chapters?

Unclear. Perhaps blame it on my inability to question situations, or not. Blame it on the fact that that is exactly what I want to do but have always had strings attached, responsibilities to fill, no money to up and leave with. Perhaps my abroad experience was my intro to Kerouac. I am now connected, cued into his mode of thinking (though getting fully into his brain would be insanely scary, thank god IBM's Watson can only answer Jeopardy clues and can't yet read minds, or maybe that is how he knows the answers. freaky). "On The Road" is the teenage boy's dream life, which is cool I guess. I am still not convinced that Kerouac is a literary genius, but maybe I'll find out in chapter 5.

Enjoy the open road, and hitchhiking.

we can listen to the dark side of the moon.

So here is the thing. Summer is awkward. It always is, because it is one giant transition of time, space, and being. I miss the people at school, but not the place itself. I love the physical beauty of VT and if my HWSers could teleport themselves here stat that would be great.

But in all actuality, the feeling of not belonging in a place I should belong in is not exactly fun. Maybe it is because I wasn't cool in high school, or maybe it is because I was too cool. Nobody knows. The point is (wait I have a point?) is that I am not ready to face the prospect of actual life, which is a nutty realization because I thought I was living in actual life for the past 20, almost 21 thank god, years. As I have probably said before, living in bubbles is a great alternative to facing reality.

So let's all pop in a CD of ambient noise, roll down our windows, and drive around aimlessly in the summer rain. The reconnection to actual life has to start somewhere.

Enjoy the blurriness of the in between.

art house director. or something like it.

I have been back in the glorious eightohtwo for approximately a week. and guess what? I am already going somewhat crazy. I have slept more than any person should possibly be allowed to, have watched more episodes of "Greek" than is probably healthy (it's just sooo addicting), wandered around more random clothing stores on the search for "internship appropriate" attire than I would like (you know it's bad when not one but three J.Crew worker people ask to start you a dressing room and then one asks for your number and that is when you tell him you hate pencil skirts and mini cardigans and blazers and can't actually afford any of these things anyway. My mom said that was mean of me. She was probably right, but that was the truth and I enjoy telling the truth when it needs to be heard). Oh yeah and I have gone on 4 runs and played a few games of tennis just to break up the routine. So that's cool I guess. THANK GOD my internship to end all internships starts on Monday.

What internship? Public Relations Intern at Green Mountain Coffee. Buzz Buzz Buzz. Pretty much perfect.

So I guess this summer will consist of me being a responsible adult, which clearly will not be a problem considering as I am one, saving money to buy internship clothes once I figure out what is acceptable (and sorry buddies at J.Crew, can't really go back there), and trying to figure out weekend plans to visit people (Maine, Phili, Western NY anybody??) and getting pumped for the epic epic concert season that will be occurring, beginning with Michael Franti on June 5, Jason Collette (if that name doesn't ring a bell or make you melt, spot reading right now) on June 12th, FURTHER with Phil Lesh (!!!!!!!!!!!!) on July 5, potentially The Swell Season on July 28th, and MGMT on August 12th. And of course techno raves and lady gaga are in the works. don't judge.

so that's it for now. I am supposed to be researching for my analytical discourse I.S but blehhh not really feeling that at the moment. Especially when there have been about 1820919820917329837 books written since the 19th century and I have to find an undetermined amount of suitable ones. Trippy.

Enjoy the sun, wear your SPF 70.

if you're seeing stars just deal

done done done done done done!!!!!!! this means I am a SENIOR at William Smith College. Gross. Still feeling like a frosh who has NO idea what is going on. Will probably always feel like that. Innocence is bliss, but acting innocent is even more blissful. you can get away with more!

A list of things I have learned this semester:
1. Grades don't actually matter. Seriously, they don't. There are much more important qualities and aspects to a person that whether or not they can get good grades. So next time you are competing over them or feeling like a loser because your best friend gets A's and you get B's stop stressing asap and realize that in 5 years when you are in grad school, working your way rather quickly through your trust fund, being a ski bum, working your dream job, getting hitched in Vegas, WHATEVER you are doing you will not be concerned with what number was next to your name when you graduated from undergrad. Or at least I hope not.
2. There is nothing a nice bottle of CherryPharm can't solve.
3. The British got it right. Surrrriously.
4. Money comes and money goes. This year more money went than it came, but that is life, eh?
5. People also come and go. Those that matter will stay or find a way to weasel their way back to you.
6. Discourse analysis of 19th century novels better be fun.
7. Broken Social Scene are musical gods. Also the people behind the Hood Internet remixes are too.
8. The HWS library hierarchy. NERD ALERT. yes I spend way too much time camped out on the third floor (stern windows side) probably practicing discourse analysis, so I notice the huge influx of um Smithies during exam week. Please note: your level of productivity is totally determined by your choice of attire. jeans and make-up: limited to none. spandex that show wayyy more than they should: eh. sweats and t-shirts?: that's a bingo. and no make up. please. and put the blackberry down. who could possibly be texting you every 3.5 seconds? Just learn the material you have been blowing off for the past 12 weeks and please please please stopppp discussing your plans for that night, not everybody is able to go out every single night of the reading period! done ranting.
9. Having a huge room with two windows is not all it is cracked up to be. be prepared for randos knocking on your window at all hours just to say what up, which is pretty friendly of them I guess.
10. I have more British humor in me than I originally thought I did. Which is FUN!
11. Spaces are important. Physical, mental, every type of space. They matter. Cluttered is fine, as long as you don't constantly lose your iPod.
11.5. Places create your person. Each one matters. Nature has more of an impact than not.
12. Woody Allen.
13. We're safe for the moment. Still in the bubble of college. Don't prematurely burst it.

enjoy the feeling of great accomplishment as you realize you are DONE (don't you feel older already??)