remember me

So I went to see Remember Me, which should come as no surprise to anyone. Robert Pattinson, you really are so very pretty. This is probably the prettiest I've ever seen you. Unfortunately, your acting skills are.. well, no. I can't say it. You're just too damn pretty for me to say anything negative about.

There are only two things wrong with this scene:
1. the apartment that needs cleaning (check out those bathroom tiles - gahh)
2. Emilie de Ravin, please don't ever attempt an American accent again, you can't pull it off. I love you in Lost, but please stick to your Aussie roots.

Other than that, in all it's corny and sickeningly sweet ways, it's kind of perfection. [insert a long line of sighs here]



And yes, the movie was quite dreadful (what was up with that ending? seriously). But let's be honest, I probably would have cried if I were by myself. We all know this.

No shame, folks. No shame at all.

lost

Friends don't let friends watch Lost sans Jameson.

It's getting intense, folks. Oh, it is.

spring break

While all my co-workers are taking the next two weeks and flying to exotic places and relieving their stress before the final months of school and the dreaded parent observations and conferences that comes along with them, I'm staying in the city plowing away at my second job. As in entering any new environment, I find myself faced with the one question I cringe upon hearing. The dreaded "so what's your story?".

This is one of the most loaded questions to ask a person. I don't enjoy talking about myself to strangers, and I don't enjoy people prying into my life. Luckily I'm well versed with rotating new environments and over the years have learned how to gracefully side step it. And as loaded as this question is, the reply can be as vague or detailed as you want it to be. My standard answer goes something along these lines "Oh, you know. So what do you do?". Most people love talking about themselves, and I can usually get away with turning the spotlight over without them even noticing.

Due to the large number of employees, It's been harder to shy away from answering. To my great surprise, I have found that by giving a more straight forward answer than I ever have before, the rewards of doing so have been quite fruitious.

Who would have thought?






I leave this post with two pictures completely unrelated to what I've written about. Just because I felt like it.

The valentines I made for my students


The famous Annunciation Triptych from The Cloisters (Art History 101, folks)

wrapped up in books

Currently, my worst habit seems to be reading multiple books at the same time.

"That can't be worst," one might think. "There are many worse habits to have, ones that you've alluded to in the past. There's that penchant for scotch, that craving of cake, and a certain strangeness about you that indicates you're never quite doing what you want to be doing with your life. Those seem like bad habits to me."

Those are pretty bad habits, I guess; they worsen by the day. Still, they're the habits I've always had, and the evils you know are always a damn sight simpler than the ones you don't. As a child, I was a staunchly monogamous reader - cover to cover, usually in an afternoon, picking and choosing from my pile of library treasures as though it were a game.

Now, by contrast, I am shameless; I start books, and then I see more of them roll into my library pickup queue. Then, I hit bookstores and find a third set of selections waiting to be purchased; above it all, I start reading texts on useful things like "how to run a half-marathon," which is the sort of information I hate admitting I need. Somewhere down the line, then, I realize I'm reading Anna Karenina (still), a marathon-training book , two philosophy texts, and one of Mary Karr's memoirs all at the same time, and everything inside of me just halts and wonders what exactly my intentions are towards these texts.

The answer is, to be honest, totally unclear. I have yet to uncover the hidden reason why it's suddenly hard for me to work one at a time; I suspect it has something to do with how scared I am of anything that's not an immediately easy read. Still, I wonder, what bridges the gap between the "good" and the "difficult"? Just as my favorite modern rock bands strike simple chords in the guises of Lucero and Against Me!, so too my favorite philosophers speak in plain, ordinary language. Does this make me a simple person, or does it underline the fact that I think it's far more difficult to make people understand conplex concepts in everyday language than it is to speak in what amounts to tongues?

Somewhere in this answer lies the secret to my newly developed and slightly shameful reading habits, I feel; somewhere in me, I'm taking what I know to be true and trying desperately to prove it through language that takes me more time to get through than I'm willing to admit. This afternoon, in a tiny sunny Brooklyn park, I finished one book.

Tonight, I glance at my bedside and see the two I have picked to proceed it, and I know with certainty that my life in books will remain skewed until summer hits with a that sudden precise decision that indicates I will read nothing unbeachworthy till the weather gets old and musty.

when it rains, it pours

the past few weeks have been filled with training, working, and ridiculous amounts of caffeine. Those who know me best are aware of the fact that I rarely drink coffee, as the result tends to be triple the normal for me. Since giving up gluten and sweets, caffeine has become my new vice. And I've slowly come to accept this.

I'm averaging about 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night, and my days have blurred together. I feel as if I'm in a dream most of the time. My day time co-workers have commented that lack of sleep and high levels of caffeine look good on me. I attribute that to the fact that I feed off of the energy of the children. A late afternoon/early evening transition coffee at Grumpy's in Chelsea, a handful of protein filled nuts, and then I'm off to the next stop. It's in these hours where I slowly start to fade. If I didn't like my co-workers and second job so much, I might completely crash. But somehow, night after night, I pull through.

The tiredness feels good. I know that it's all in preparation for the next step. The first acceptance letter has found it's way to me, and now I'm faced with the process of figuring out how to make it all work out.

But I have faith, my friends. I have faith.

making my way back into the 21st century

After a two week hiatus from my computer, I have returned to technology.

Much to say and many pictures to share. But for now, I leave you with the video of one of my oldest friends, who also happens to be one of the most amazing people I know.

Italian Japanese, "Le Pony" from Boa Simon on Vimeo.

Heart of gold, that one.