Why go risking the way that I see you

Why go risking the way that I see you

I wasn't going to blog tonight because I have nothing to say because I had a boring day with the exception of sitting through too many "oh Sam!"s, but then I looked at my dashboard and I had to blog because I'm anal like that.  My parents have left my sister and I alone tonight, and I hate being in the house without them.  It makes weird sounds, the air conditioner turns on at random times, and then when I'm blogging because I don't want to go to bed tumblr is down and it's frustrating. 

I spent all morning editing photos.  I've been thinking about art, and how the internet and all the websites therein completely challenge the definition of art as being produced by artists.  Art is this much more tangible thing now, much less formal, less distant, more hands-on.  Not that I consider myself an artist at all - but I feel like "artist" is less of a career objection and more of something that one just simply is.  Just like I'm a writer, I guess, just not a professional one.  And now this has turned in to babble - that's what happened when too-late-at-night combines with too much Lord of the Rings.

Yay, tumblr's fixed.  Now I can go to bed. 

I'm coming down the world turned over

I'm coming down the world turned over

This morning I went to LACMA with my mom and we went through the Renoir exhibit, which was really interesting and cool and amazing and I realized that Renoir and Monet are just about the cutest old men I've ever seen. We also wandered into the German Expressionism exhibit, and I realized that this artists have become celebrities to me. Every time I spotted a Kandinsky or a Picasso or recognized someone's name - Jasper Johns, Richard Serra - I was excited. That's an amazing feeling. I can't wait to go back.

Then my mom and I had lunch at the museum, where I ate a croque fromage, aka a grilled cheese sandwich with a French name in honor of the Renoir exhibit. After we finished eating my mom realized that we were running out of time so we walked way too fast to the car and she drove like a maniac over to the Pantages. She drives horribly when she's stressed, and she hates being late so that causes stress. We almost got in four separate car accidents. She really isn't helping my fear of driving.

So we saw "Chicago" at the Pantages and as a result I've had "Cell Block Tango" stuck in my head all day. I sat through the entire thing with a pounding head ache, a horrible pounding on the left side of my head that couldn't be helped by Jason Mraz and sleeping in the car on the way home, or a Motrin, an hour of lying down and reading, and a bottle of water.

I finally felt better after dinner. Then we watched "Doctor Who" which was extremely scary, and a creepy episode of "The Mentalist." Now I'm sitting here in my pajamas listening to my James Blunt station on Pandora, and I just looked in the mirror and realized that I have raccoon eyes from my mascara. There are art history cards all over my desk and I haven't looked at them all day, and I have a new Monet book and a new Renoir book and they're calling to me to read them, but my desk is covered in art history cards and that's going to be a problem tomorrow when I need to do my math/English/French homework.

Tangent: Sometimes I think about how weird it would be to be someone else for a day and see how I look to other people. I think that I know how I come off - but I can't truly know. I'm blind to my own faults, to a certain extent at least. I could have a really annoying habit, like the 8th grader in my math class who is constantly dropping his pencil. Or I could complain to much and everyone hates it.

And then thinking about that leads me into thinking about judgment, and how we are so judgmental of others, and how if we weren't constantly judging we all wouldn't be so self-conscious and we could all be our truer selves and the entire world would be a happier place. Or, well, maybe it wouldn't, because then evil people would be even more evil. Not that I think people are inherently good or inherently evil - okay, never mind. This is what happens when I try to be thoughtful after 9 pm.

Oh, I forgot - I encountered British people at the museum today. Their accents were delightful. Coldplay just came on Pandora, and it's a live version so I heard Chris Martin speaking and that reminded me. After the Brits were out of hearing range I told my mom that I want to be British someday and she said that she doesn't think it works that way. Dear British boys: call me.

When I was younger I always wished I had a big set of shutters in my bedroom just like the Darling children.

Foregoe the parable

Foregoe the parable

If I were a month, I’d be October, when you pull out your cozy-but-not-wooly sweater and lace up your tennis shoes and watch the leaves change as you walk the streets with your cup of tea warm in your hand.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday, when the anticipation is building building building for Friday.
If I were a time of day, I’d be the time you lose when you're sleeping.
If I were a planet, I’d be Pluto - is it or isn't it?
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a parrot fish, cause who wouldn't want to be a parrot fish?
If I were a direction, I’d be Northwest.  Little bit off center. 
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a really comfy couch with ice cream stains.
If I were a liquid, I’d be the strawberry lemonade.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a pearl, just cause okay yeah.
If I were a tree, I’d be a bonsai.  No I wouldn't.  I have no idea.
If I were a tool, I’d be a a guy.
If I were a flower, I’d be a daisy.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be the calm before the storm.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a recorder; you left it behind a long time ago but it still lingers in your closet.
If I were a color, I’d be blueblueblue as the sky.
If I were an emotion, I’d be flummoxed.
If I were a fruit, I’d be an apple.
If I were a sound, I’d be the clicking of a mechanical pencil, the buzz of your computer late at night, and the silence of it all.
If I were an element, I’d be the element of your desire.  Wait, who am I kidding?  The elements of art, literary elements. 
If I were a car, I’d be a much-loved but broken down something-some-number.
If I were a food, I’d be a Popsicle.
If I were a place, I’d be the inside of your mind.  My mind. 
If I were a material, I’d be fake.
If I were a taste, I’d be the flavor of koogle, the unspellable food.
If I were a scent, I’d be cucumber mellon.
If I were an object, I’d be a movement-sensing light switch.
If I were a body part, I’d be a pinky finger.  Unnecessary but you keep it around anyway. 
If I were a facial expression, I’d be a mole face.  See picture. 
If I were a song, I’d be that one you love but can never remember the name of.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be your much-loved but worn-away chucks that you feel guilty for not wearing.

The porch light's off

The porch light's off

I can't think of anything to say tonight.  I'm not feeling particularly stressed or annoyed or happy or excited.  I just am. 

Oh, okay.  Here's something.  I don't like the f-word. 

This is boring.  I'm boring.  This weekend was boring. 

Here are some of my favorite pictures from France.

She wants to know does everyone feel this way

She wants to know does everyone feel this way

"Tear you apaaaart

into little pieces of candy."

- Michael Kang

I feel weird.  This morning I ran into Gigit and Taco and we were talking about how we're all sleeping weirdly.  And we talked about how we all hate it here now, we hate the people here, we all just want to go back to France.  Gigit said something about how she looks around at all these people and it makes her sad knowing that all of them don't know that there's a whole world out there that they haven't seen.  Just a few days ago I was a world away, on the top of the Eiffel Tower, eating crepes on the street in Rennes, and now I'm home, in a concrete box like all the other concrete boxes, refreshing my facebook page and putting off my math homework.  I hate that.  I hate this.

It's almost a sort of restlessness, a feeling of why - why am I here, going to school, living this daily monotonous existence, when I could be out there, traveling, meeting people, doing new things?  And then I almost hate myself for thinking that, because isn't that what we're all thinking?  I want to be different, I want to be the one who's happy and successful, or maybe not successful but just happy.  I want to be the one who doesn't show up at the high school reunion because she has better things to do.

This weird antsyness - it's like when you click through twenty songs because none of them sound right for the moment, or when you try on six different shirts before giving up and going with the first thing you tried on, or when you flip through dozens of channels before finally just turning the tv off.  I don't want here or there, but I really, really don't want here.  There's a French word for it, I think - ennui?  A state of being, not a passing mood.   

Rentrer chez moi

Rentrer chez moi

Since I got home from France I:
1. Ate an oreo
2. Texted Ali and Ellie
3. Got mad at my mother for taking my oreos away
4. Put on my pajama pants
5. Checked my facebook
6. Misplaced my cell phone
7. Went through 150 emails
8. Washed my face and brushed my teeth
9. Slept for 10 hours
10. Ate a pancake
11. Unpacked my suitcase
12. Ate an oreo and 4 chocolate-covered pretzels
13. Checked my facebook
14. Started uploading my 945 pictures to my computer
15. Wrote this list

Things I brought to France that I never used:
1. French-English dictionary
2. Addition:  A Novel by Toni Jordan
3. My Listography book
4. A black umbrella
5. My homework
6. Mini-lotion and mini-sunscreen
7. Mini shaving cream
8. Cuticle cream

Things lost and found in France:
1. My camera lens cap
2. A sense of freedom
3. My love of Gothic architecture
4. Gabschen
5. Old friends

As I'm swimming through the stereo

As I'm swimming through the stereo

I'm leaving tomorrow morning really really early and I still have to get some stuff together and finish the cds for my pen pal qui s'appelle Clotilde, mais I wanted to continue my blogging-every-day-in-March thing.  Since I'm going to be behind on BEDA when I finally start, I figured I should at least do that. 

Michael: 

omg if it rains this week

there might be turbulence for you tomorrow

Me:  

shutup

Michael: 

ok well if you watched lost then you would be prepared

but really...tin can over the rainbow

hold onto gabi

she floats

Icandothis.

Standing on the edge of morning

Standing on the edge of morning

My momsy is getting up early tomorrow to make me matzah brie for breakfast, because it's Passover and matzah brie is my favorite, and it's my last day at home.  Holy crap, it's my last day at home.

I'm trying not to think too much about the plane rides, or the high speed train, or the Seine boat cruise thing.  Sensing a pattern?  Ugh.  I'm never going to be able to drive a car.  Anyhow, I'm also not thinking about the amount of French I'm suddenly going to have to speak all at once, the very complicated dollars-to-euros math I'm going to have to do in my head, or the sore feet I'm going to have.

What I am thinking about:
- Ben Mckenzie
- Sleeping
- Monet paintings (Boulevard des Capuchines, specifically)
- Matzah brie
- The Sarah Dessen book I'm going to read as soon as I finish this blog post
- The microcosm of the gloriousness of France that is contained in this tumblr
- "Gilmore Girls"
- Summer

Another chance to turn it all around

Another chance to turn it all around

I wasn't going to blog tonight, because I'm shouldn't talk about what I want to talk about.  So I'm not going to talk about that. 



Peut-etre j'ecrit en francais, tu ne comprendras pas que j'ecrit. 

Je pense que tu es mechante.  C'est un mot de francais une - mechante.  Il y a un loup qui s'appelle Pierre.  Pierre est mechante, alors les autres loups ne l'aime pas!  Mais, Pierre a une gros probleme!  Pierre aime le nourriture.  Il mange et il mange et il mange, et il devenu tres grande.  Quand il va les restos avec ses amies, il mange tout le nourrriture dans le resto.  Cependent, il ne peut pas arreter!  Il essaie, et il essaie, et il essaie encore une fois, mais il ne peut pas arreter.  Alors, ses amies decident aller les restos avec sa tout la meme.  Ils ne veulent pas dire a Pierre qu'il est mechant parce qu'il est mal a laise.  Mais, aujourd'hui, Pierre est tres mechant.  Il crie a ses amies:  <>

Comme moi, les amies de Pierre sont triste.  Ils pluerent.  Et, apres la, ils decident que dire a Pierre:  <> Et ils courent vers chez leur.  Ils sont contentes d'etre sauf Pierre.  Fin.   
Finalement, je comprend.  C'est la vie:  etre triste, mais aussi etre contente.

Bittersweet.  

I know in time this ship will hardly ever cross my mind again

I know in time this ship will hardly ever cross my mind again

I just got home from a France info meeting.  As excited as I am, new places freak me out.  Also, new people, new foods, and planes.  And all of those things are involved in this trip.  This is a different kind of stress, though - it's not school related, but it's still stress.  I don't like stress.

This is another one of those long weeks.  Ugh.  We're all picking classes for senior year right now, and if that isn't stressful, I don't know what is.  I keep comparing myself to everyone else - well, she's taking pre-calc, shouldn't I do that too? - and it sucks.  I hate that I do that.  Next year, it's only going to get worse, when everyone's applying for UCLA and USC and I just want to go to some liberal arts school where I can read books all day and not have to listen to cheerleaders gossip. Not that I don't gossip myself.  God, I really need to knock that off. 

21+ shows = sad Natasha

I nearly forgot to title this

I nearly forgot to title this

I just got back from a mixer for my France trip, at which we played the name game for about 40 hours before being informed that we are going to visit Mont Saint Michel.  I can't explain how excited I am about this.  I mean, just look at it.

Is it not the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen ever in your life ever?  I'm fangirling an island right now.  But really.  It's going to be so cool to see everything from my art history text book right in front of me, in 3-d and actuality and stuff.  And it was also mentioned that when we go to Bayeux to see our new French friends that we're meeting soon via e-mail, we're going to get to see the Bayeux Tapestry.  I basically jumped out of my seat when I heard that, and everyone else was just staring at the floor and twirling their hair like nothing exciting happened.  But I swear my eyes lit up.  I am about 10 times more excited for this trip now than I was three hours ago.

So somehow that put me in an amazing mood, even though I had a horrible afternoon that included getting into a fight with my mom on her birthday and realizing that some of my nanowrimo wasn't understood in the way that I meant it to be understood.  And I didn't get to driver's ed tonight, but I think not being home for more than 2 hours is a valid excuse.  I didn't study for my verb quiz or read Hamlet in as much detail as I was supposed to.  But who cares, because next weekend I'm seeing the fabulous Jason Mraz in concert (again!) and in 6 weeks I'm going to France and there are only 4 more months until my birthday which means only 4 more months until summer!

Woot!  I never say woot, but this situation is very deserving of a "woot!" so here you go.