you shall above all things be glad & young.

~e.e. cummings


meg & i in front of Dennis Sever's house, a brilliant, atmospheric home/art gallery that transports you back to 18th century London.

And I get gladder by the day. I've had a particularly good past few days. I'm both enjoying my solitude while also making the effort to befriend those around me.

About 10 classmates gathered after class to go grab a pint in the student union, and I gotta say, it felt so good to be around chatty Americans again. There was a very nice English guy in the bunch who came with, but it was fun to talk about American cities, college, LSATs, and debate the benefits of San Francisco vs. New York vs. Chicago vs. Boston with those who truly know these cities. It was fun. And I learned that other people hate this student complex, too! So I'm not alone. However, two exciting new prospects for brightening up my room/heart arrived today in the not-anymore-on-strike-Royal Mail:

Mommy #2 Diane sent me an enormous king-sized duvet to double over and put on top of my horrifically springy twin-sized mattress. And OH! what a difference it makes! I feel like Princess & the Pea on this thing. It's marvelous, and adds a good three feet of height to what USED TO BE my pathetic little bed. Whee!! Thank you diane!!!!!!!!! It took a few biomedical engineering students to help me rip off the packing tape on that thing, but lo! once I got thru! it was GOOD.


And in this delightful package from ms. kirsten, high school best friend extraordinaire, i received some of my favorite things in life:
-raibow chip buttercream frosting (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (i can dip SALTINES into this and feel heaven. it makes anything delicious. ANYTHING. an ex-boyfriend once put it on sushi for me, to mix my two favorite foods, and IT WAS STILL DELICIOUS.)
-mini-butterfingers!!
-sour neon gummy worms!!!
-photos from home
-bookmark, because i do lots, and lots, and lots of reading here, and she knows that. : )

so, thank you, wonderful kirsten. you made my evening. my dessert arrived all the way from america. how lovely.

and in other good news, my thai flatmate's friends came over for dinner the other night and helped me solve my Cup Problem. You see, I mailed some house things over before i arrived, and in the box was some stacked urban outfitters drinking cups. Well, once I unpacked, I could NOT un-stick them from each other, so I've been goofily drinking out of a trombone-like stack of three cups in one for 3 weeks. Not anymore!


It may have taken a stove, a sink, soap, a saucepan, boiling & freezing water & some good ol' Thai determination, because these boys FINALLY separated my cups, albeit after about a half-hour of laboratory experimentation.

weekending

I needed this weekend -- I'm finally starting to feel more at home here, and more excited to explore this massive new city o' mine, rather than wrapped into the folds of my tiny room, which is becoming less "Soviet bloc housing" and more "cozy homey" thanks to some mad decorating STYLEZ.


Friday: Beaudelaire discussions in class, Bond street exploration, reading in Green Park (you have to pay a POUND FIFTY to sit in one of the lounge chairs scattered about in the parks here. I totally thought that was a lovely gift of the city, until an outstretched palm informed me otherwise), and meeting Meg at the Duke's Head pub in Putney for "a piss" with her co-workers.

Putney bridge:


Saturday, meg & i (see? she is my only friend here. all hail meg, everyone!!!) went to the tate modern, which was LOVERLY. we were a few days early for the louise bourgeois exhibit, but here is a view of one of her sculptures from the 4th floor window, st. paul's cathedral is the one cutting the imposing architectural figure across the river:

I could spend an entire day in the bookshop alone. Gah!

Sol LeWitt's geometry at the Tate:



MMMM. Greek food along the Thames. Think we ordered enough dishes? hummous, tzatziki, lentil puree, taramosalata, pita, mmmmm.


Then, I was invited by some family friends visiting London to see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra play (of all things!) at the Royal Festival Hall. My first time seeing Bolero live, and waow! it gave me goosebumps. Nice job, Ravel. and CSO. 7th ROW! amazing. Also, Melissa wore a pink satin Prada clutch that I covettttttttttttttttttttt. I'm not usually into bags all that much, especially fancy brand-name bags, but omgomgomgomgomgomgomg. gimme the pretty.

Mama Laundry

(view out my window this evening)



There are five washing machines in this student complex. Five washing machines for 400 students. And one of them is broken. I'm no math student (and even when I was, I wasn't....really. I was reading my book in my lap while 8th grade teacher droned on about parabolas and algorithms.), but that is just BAD PLANNING. And what does it all equal? Waiting an hour and a half just to be able to put my laundry in the &^()%$* washer. So many kids juanted into the room with their enormous bags full of disgusting clothes and stopped short, mouths agape, to see ten of us packed into this tiny, sweaty room, miserably waiting for a shot at the washing machine. They turned on their heels, muttering "Well, I guess I'll do my washing tomorrow then..."

Somehow, in all the hubbub, I became the expert at laundry. 18-year old freshmen boys are asking me,

"Right, so...um...do you know what permanent press means?"

"What temperature should I do my shirts? 30C? 40C?" (Why they were asking me that question, I have no clue, as I'm STILL unclear about the celsius/fahrenheit formula (see above: math class))

"Can I wash these two things together?"

"What do you mean, I can't dry jeans??"

"What do you mean, I can't put this red jumper in with my white t-shirts?? WHY NOT? Come on, please??"

And as I'm trying to read Watching the English in the heat of the tumble dryers, an anthropological study on the personality of the English, an anthropological study is happening right before my very eyes. The Polish guy in line for the washer behind me notices that one of the washers isn't ticking the minutes down anymore, it's finished.
"Someone's clothes are ready!" he announces.

"Right, yeah, actually, I saw that, er, but, whoever it is isn't here..." mumbles a sweet young Brit.

Me: "Wait a second. This washer has been sitting here, unused, this whole time? And you knew that? I thought your stuff was in there. How come you didn't just put their stuff in a dryer?"

Brit boy: "I CAN'T DO THAT! It'd be...RUDE! I don't want to be...RUDE!" His friend nodded eagerly, concurring with the sentiment.

The English will go to painful lengths to avoid the discomfort of being impolite. To an American like me, this is outrageous. Just because one person hasn't thought to come back and fetch their wet laundry doesn't mean that the other 397 students should have to suffer through the remaining THREE WASHING MACHINES. I speak my mind, and everyone around me looks hesitant, and shifty-eyed. One boy ventures, "Well, when the beef is cooking..."

"What the hell does that mean?" I ask. "Consensus here is...?" cue shifty eyes.
"Allright, I'LL JUST DO IT." I shove the three t-shirts and few pairs of fancy underwear into a dryer and allow the next person queued ahead of me to put their stuff in the machine. About a half hour later, the girl came back and apologized profusely for forgetting that her stuff was in the machine. She didn't seem to mind that I moved her items to the dryer, although that might have been the English in her, avoiding being impolite by showing me that she was peeved that I touched her laundry. I guess I'll never know.

In other news, I cooked an entire meal for myself tonight. Quite a feat for me, because, you know, that's what cereal is for!!! And boyfriends!! It was the first time I've ever made rice (granted, with my roommate's rice cooker, but still).
Behold: sweet & sour tofu & brown rice. mmm...



Scenes from skype: : )

Sunday in the Park

It was a study in Pointillism: the girl sitting on her petticoats (read: Anthropologie skirt), absently munching on her smoked salmon sandwich (yes, the other half from the Royal Albert Hall), a tiny dog happily bounding up to her and climbing all over her for bites of her sandwich. Sunday in the Park, indeed. However, the setting is in London, not Paris, and there wasn't any monkeys. That I saw, anyway.

I took myself all over London Sunday afternoon. I started in Notting Hill, looking for Hugh Grant but suspiciously, he was nowhere to be found. So, I found solace in vintage shops (found a fantastic hot pink '50s lacy top for only 15 pounds! A steal above all steals in this town.), and wandered around the Portobello Road, which on Sundays houses an antique market winding down its street. I almost bought a vintage cricket ball, but decided I didn't really want to lug it around all day.


Then I wandered down very rich streets and watched very posh, young families eating chips and burgers and salads in outdoor cafes (it was a gloriously sunny day, and warm too) until I found Hyde Park, and sat myself down for some people-watching, sandwich-eating, and book-reading. I sat there, reading my book until the air grew cold, the clouds dressed the sun, and orange leaves floated over my legs.

I brushed myself off and shopped a bit down Kensington High Street (too crowded on a Sunday afternoon to be too enjoyable, especially the Topshop there, which was far too cramped), meandered down smaller roads 'til I found the perfect French patisserie/boulangerie where I took away a mini vegetable quiche and exchanged pleasantries with the owner en francais, then popped down Gloucester Road, indulged in a strawberry cupcake from Hummingbird Bakery (GO THERE. If you live in London, GO THERE NOW. Cupcakes of all kinds, from m&m to caramel to strawberry and back again. ahhh!!!!), and made it to the V&A Museum for its last hour. I'll have to go back to be able to see the special exhibition on Lee Miller & couture fashion.

Thoroughly exhausted, I returned home and fixed myself a rather disgusting combination in description, but delicious in taste, of the easiest dinner imaginable: tofu & manchego cheese & jam atop a crumpet. SCRUMPTIOUS!! I shall teach you how NOT to cook in this blog. Start your microwaves!!

As today I wandered around Oxford Circus at the dizzying weekday hour of 5 - 6pm, I felt overwhelmed. Just when it seems like western Europe's great cities are being eaten up by consumerism & global brands, when there's a McDonald's and/or a Starbuck's sign within every eyeline, and I can't remember why I'm here and why there are so many people and so many brand name shops after brand name shops, you turn a corner and see this:


And then you remember: Oh. I came here for this. Quiet pedestrian back alleys with pastel-colored walls, lanterns, and doors the colors of rainbows. You just have to look a little harder. I don't mind working for it.

gorge-fest 5000 at Borough Market

London has seen a dramatic increase in favo(u)r in the past 12 hours. last nite, i saw none other than the ethereal, marvelous, unparalleled talent that is Ms. Joanna Newsom. i swooned, i sang, i grinned goofily to myself, i bobbed along to the harp beat in my velvet chair. it was wonderful. Serendipity rang again as I was walking thru the entrance and ran into one of the 27 people in my Master's program. what a small world of newsom lovers it is!!

(photo courtesy of the telegraph)

Truly, her sea-gull caw and her milky sweet mews soared in the massive Royal Albert Hall like nothing i've ever experienced. What a venue. What a voice. What a harpist. What a night. And my smoked salmon & cream cheese sandwich & accompanying glass of rose at intermission was delicious, too.

This morning, I sprang over to the London Bridge for Borough Market. Meg met up with me and we indulged in foodie passions the likes of which I have never indulged in -- all at once, that is, like I did to-day. I'm guessing there were around 100 stalls, clustered all around the archway under the railroad, and next to a beautiful, soaring Southwark Cathedral, the oldest gothic cathedral in London, under whose impressive spires we shared a carrot-cake cupcake with magical EDIBLE GLITTER on the frosting. Amazing. i want some edible glitter of my own. to have and to hold forever and ever. the pastry chef told me when she first bought it for the cupcakes, she was putting the glitter on everything: cereal, curry dishes, everything.

Then, back to the stalls. I bought fresh figs, peaches, tofu, and baklava to start with. Every stall has samples, so you could conceivably go to Borough Market, not spend a penny (sorry, pence) and walk away full. Walk away full we did, but not until we bought some gorgeous fresh, locally-made food. We split a brie & leek quiche, had about a thousand mini samples of cheese, I bought a half-bottle of red wine (the "single's bottle," I call it, as I am sadly writing this blog all by my lonesome on a cold Saturday night), some fresh baguette, membrillo quince paste & manchego cheese (both of which I fell in love with while working at a Spanish restaurant in Phoenix) to take home and re-create a favorite tapas dish, and a slice of banana cake.

MMMmmmm...I could have bought even more. There was every kind of food from England to France to Spain to the Middle East and back again. Teas, cheeses, baked goods, freshly-baked breads, fresh, local fruits & veggies, meats (terrifyingly, I walked by a group of hanging rabbits, with the fur still attached and everything...a very unfriendly sight to this vegetarian), and the brownies, my god THE BROWNIES. Look at this pile!!! :

I walked away with a heavier tummy and a happier heart. So, Borough Market delivered. Thank you. You are DELICIOUS, and my new weekly Saturday routine.

Below: Meg biting into our quiche. That's the face of happiness, people.

welcome to londontown.

hello again, dear readers!!

it's been faaaaaaar too long. i have maintained a rather infrequent contribution to this blog up to now, but now that i'm alone in a new city, with a fresh slate, i think it's high-time to get to the nitty-gritty.

what's it like to leave everything you know & are comfortable with, pluck down across the pond, and start over again?

i'll attempt to explain in the coming year. i've moved to rainy london from phoenix/chicago (arizona as my university & post-graduation home, chicago as my homehome) for a Master's in modern literature here in london. i am lucky enough to have my best friend here, who will be here working thru december, but beyond meg, i don't know a soul.

it's been a hard go at it. i was so excited to leave, and when i left my mum & boyfriend at the airport, all i could do is cry and feel sorry for myself. i've done this before: i studied abroad for a year in italy & france my junior year at college, but it's harder at 24 than at 20. My life was more ingrained back in the states, and i was so happy with my boyfriend there. picking up & leaving again has proven more difficult, but i'm sure i'll persevere and make friends & ensconce myself in reading & writing, which i haven't had nearly enough of in the past year.

so, welcome to london. i'll keep you posted.

this evening's agenda: Joanna Newsom concert at the Royal Albert Hall. words cannot DESCRIBE my excitement. that makes all my musical concert dreams come true: bjork & joanna newsom, all in one year. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

and if you're in chicago, pet this little fella for me. i miss him & his owner very very much. : )

We have a whole life to live together, you fucker, but it can't start until you call.

Miranda July, right up there in my top 5 favorite creative women in the world (along with Bjork, Jenny Holzer, Margaret Atwood, & Sophie Calle) has a book coming out tommorrow, and I am positively quivering with excitement. It's a collection of short stories entitled No One Belongs Here More Than You, and you mustmustmust go to the website:

www.noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com

Always an original, she sounds her authorial trumpet by writing with a dry-erase marker on different kitchen appliances and photographing each sentence, all leading to a photo-story to announce her upcoming book. It's too lovely for words.

If you haven't yet seen "You, Me, & Everyone We Know," go out and rent it TODAY. It's a unbelievably endearing modern tale of intersecting quirky characters and stories: a family torn apart by divorce, a little boy's naive foray into the world of internet sex, an elderly couple's love, and a woman's tendency to wish her fantasies into reality so hard that they just might happen.

splashy splashy

oh, my, god, i CANNOT get over this swimsuit by JG4B:

It's a collaboration of Jasper Goodall, a UK graphic design artist, with a British swimsuit designer to create the "Midnight Menagerie" collection (shown). I am DYING for one of these two versions, but my size is sold out on netaporter. I've even contacted a boutique in canada where they stock the swimsuits (there are only a few shops in the world that stock them), and am begging them to order some more even though it's over $300 and I've never spent that much on a swimsuit...or...anything... and when it comes down to it I can't even afford it, but I want it so baaaaaaaaaaad *whimpers*

It's such a flattering cut~! Love the one-pieces with sides cut out and a low V front. I'm even going back to the ol' shopaholic's axiom: "BUT I'LL WEAR IT FOREVER!!!!!!!" This probably isn't an eternity piece, but goddammit is it cute. I'll probably end up with a lower-end version of this swimsuit, like the American Apparel one:

sigh. why can't i be a rich 23 year old so that i can afford couture swimsuits? WHY.

coachella-style-hunter.

Sweaty camera in hand, i snuck *clicks* at some examples of Coachella style. Fashion do's and don'ts to follow ("don't" mainly exhibited by pot-bellied boy with a t-shirt wrapped around his head, Turban style. And I don't think he was trying to emulate the Prada Fall '07 turban look, either.) I had bigger ambitions than follow-thru: I intended this to be a full-on facehunter homage, but fatigue and dehydration set in, and lying face-down in the grass in the air-conditioned Heineken tent and passing out in the sun during MSTRKRFT won over style scouting. But, still...

This lady and her sunny yellow dress got us all dancing to one of the members of The Faint who DJ'd in the globe tent that lit up at night.

Here he is! (HOT.) Shades + tight white tee + grey vest = zexy.

Loved this girl's pink hair and vintage see-thru babydoll top. After we film the documentary in June, I think I'll be adding a few streaks of pink to my blonde locks...

And there we have it. It's more theta alpha phi than Prada, no? This is when style deteriorates and people just don't care anymore, because it's just too damn hot to worry about how you look when sweat won't stop running down the backs of your thighs.

Adorable. Lots of girls opted to just wear tops as dresses and pair with some rough little ankle boots, as she did. I marveled at how many girls wore boots, until I realized that it wasn't just about enduring unbelievable heat for fashion: it's an easy way to sneak in drugs! Ah, it all comes together.

Another style note was all of the Ray-Ban Corey Hart sunglasses going on. It was cute for about five minutes, but I'm over it -- I'd say 1/3 girls wore them, and when that happens, you know it's time for a trend to die. Also of note were all the '70s hippie headbands the circled the forehead rather than kept hair out of the face. I'm all for that look, but it's hard to pull off if you're not at a summer festival. Note to self for Lollapalooza style this summer in Chicago...

sailor? i hardly knew her!

new dress up in the shop. it's my favorite. shhh.

HOT NEW VINTAGE. yum.

just added some loverly new vintage items to the shop(pe). head on over to tiniest spark vintage & take a look for cute summer coats, dresses, and shoes...ooh la la <3

COACHELLAAAAAAAAAAAA

THREE DAYS 'TIL COACHELLA!!!

three days 'til i'll be:

*driving four hours thru-out the nite with meg, ipod blasting away our favorite can't-miss coachella artists, stopping at gas stations to load up on caffeine & string cheese

*seeing BJORK OMG OMG OMG OMG OMGGGGGGGGGG MY ICELANDIC BEAUTY DREAM COME TRUE, i have loved her and listened to her trilled electronic wails since a wee lass of 14 (good god, almost 10 years ago?), and have been dying to see her ever since. it will without a doubt be my highlight of the three-day festival : )

*camping, miserably enough. (WHY do people do it for pleasure?)

*sweating, sweating, sweating. still debating on fashion choices...vintage lime green romper with white birdies flying all over it is a surefire friday pick, and some floaty dresses for the other days.... but it's hard to look cute when you are in 115 degrees for an entire weekend, can't sleep because it's about -20 fucking degrees at night (in a tent, that is), but wake up around 7:30am NOT by choice because the blazing sun is already on its sadistic rampage and then you end up passing out on the grass floor of the air-conditioned heineken tent for a few precious half-hours per day because it's the sweet, sweet, merciful cool air that lulls you to splay out, grass-stains aplenty, oh, who can look cute after all that? WHO? i saw these girls last year sporting intense amounts of foundation, lipstick, heavy jewelry, HEELS, the whole kit and kaboodle, and i have NO idea how they did it. they must have stayed in a hotel. bitches.

*list of people i'm excited to see:

bjork !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

arcade fire!!!!

interpol

cansei ser sexy

manu chao

the good, the bad & the queen

blonde redhead!!

air!

lily allen!

i can't even think of any others, i'm that excited.

people that are missing that i would have loved to see there:

joanna newsom (swoon) & the knife. ah well, next year....

anyone reading this going? how excited are YOU?????

oh, hooray.

:D

ahoy, mateys!

well, europe, it looks like it's going to be me and you, together again, reunited down long, winding roads, streetside cafes, endless cappuccinos, floaty sundresses, and...donkeys?

in june, me mum, a writer/producer/documentarian, is heading to europe to film a travel series, and i'm going to be the on-camera host! WHEE!!!!!!!!!!!! two blissful weeks of island-hopping and filming with mum, boyfriend (as Key Grip, his official title), and a small crew of lovely people.

soooo-ooooo excited. i've also applied to graduate schools in europe for the fall (namely around london and dublin), so, assorted bloggers and worldwide readers, keep yer fingers crossed for me. i won't find out til may or june...i'll inform you all then. : )

<3

emerald isle and pudding

until something more interesting happens in my life other than being unbelievably broke, i will post lovely photos of the best year o' my life, my modern Grand Tour, mon annee europeenne. le sigh.

part one: ireland.

my best friend from the PRE-SCHOOL years (that is a LONG friendship, people) and i went to visit ireland together. at the time, she was studying in geneva for a year, and i was in grenoble (a sweet french mountain town nestled into the alps). In june, we hightailed it to the land of 1/4 of my ancestors for a week traveling from dublin to cork to killarney to dingle and back.

The above photo is of the westernmost bike ride possible in europe. Dingle is the westernmost town in Europe, and we took a train and a six-hour bus ride to get there. It's a charming little town with small streets bursting with pubs. Although I was pretty nauseous from the six hours of winding hilly roads in a bus, we left our oversized backpacks with some kind people in the storage room of their mini-grocery store and rented bikes and made our way down the western path of europe. We road past remote villages, cottages tucked behind gardens and immense yards, beyond fields dotted with cows who moo'ed as we whizzed by, the salty sea air blowing through our blonde ponytails.

Below: the town of Dingle. Look at the winding, hilly view! I'm practically salivating at the memory of such beautiful landscape. I'm currently applying to graduate schools in Ireland, and this makes me lust all the more for an acceptance.

and, what is possibly the most thrilling entertainment to be found in Ireland: BREAD PUDDING. Although not as easy to find as you may think. My friend and I wandered in and out of about 4 pubs/restaurants in Dublin's Temple district before we found one that had bread pudding on the menu. (I was on a mission. Yes, I am that obsessive about food.) Luckily I have a friend that puts up with it. And boy, oh boy. Was that caramel-glazed-with-vanilla-ice-cream bread pudding DELICIOUS.

ramses II

my puppy. photographed at the congress hotel in tucson, arizona. We had to sneak him in, folding him into my oversized Longchamp tote bag, and he was punching and kicking and digging tunnels with his white-socked little paws the whole way up and down the stairs. shhh.