right as rain

I write a lot when it’s raining.

It is just something I do – along with writing in coffee shops, about the coffee shops, while it’s raining.

No, this post is not being written at coffee shop, but it is raining.

So yes, it kind of fits in the theme.

I am sitting in my bed.

For those of you who have just caught on to this sensation, or for those of you who forgot, my bed is located underneath some else (it’s a bunk bed. I’m not literally sleeping underneath someone’s bed) and that bed also occupies a room with three other beds. I am the only one awake, which is a surprise because usually computer screens light up the small corners of the room way passed this hour.

It’s raining outside, rather hard actually. I can tell by the blur of the orange light on the building across the road and can hear the deep sloshing of fast paced vehicles on the busy streets. I wish I could throw all the windows open and write this while sitting in the middle of the room with the only light being the criss cross stripes of light from the windows on the walls.

My roommates do not believe in fresh air.

They also do not believe in opened blinds passed five o clock.

I think I write when it’s raining because the rain makes me nostalgic. It doesn’t make me sad.

 It makes me remember.

Remember the good times, the rough patches, the moments I wouldn’t change anything, the times I wish would have gone differently. This nostalgic feeling makes me feel like I need to share something. I don’t really want to share those memories though. So I come here, to this public domain, and describe in detail the objects around me. (We all remember the coffee garden posts where I pick apart the tastes, the smells, and the sites. Or how about me sitting at the dining room table talking about the lights and how bright they are against my parent’s studious faces.)

Posts like these are not really for you.

They are not informative about my life or the latest tunes those cool kids are listening to these days.

Posts like these are really for me.

They are something that the minute I start to write, usually introducing it with a poorly executed introduction, I cannot stop. My fingers constantly clicking keys, pressing onward quickly, not thinking about what I am going to write next, just writing down the thoughts as they present themselves no matter what shape or form.

My spelling is even more atrocious in these posts than usual. The page of text, first written in Word Document, is lined with red and green squiggles under misspelled words and unorganized thoughts. As my spelling gets worse, my vocabulary heightens and I randomly through in words like “executed” and “atrocious,” These thesauruses like words are often used wrong, kind of like my speech when I am nervous or not thinking before speaking.

It takes longer to spell check the document than to actually write it.

There is no music playing, no headphones on, no bar’s stereo turned up to loudly, but yet a song is tuning through my ears. It’s not a particular artist, chorus or key, but a combination of the rain, the street side laughter, and the quick click of the keys.

I hope my music isn’t disturbing my roommates.

I think this post that was originally brought on by the rain, which brought on the nostalgia, was also brought on by the idea that I will not be home for thanksgiving.

In Italy, I didn’t really notice that I missed it.

Yes, I took in the fact that my entire family was joining together to eat and laugh and unbutton their pants secretly at the table. But I was in a country who didn’t know what the holiday was and the time difference made the at home celebration seem like something that happened while I was sleeping and I just missed it.

That I just didn’t wake up in time.  

Not here. Here I see everything. Plans about where everyone is going and whom they are spending it with. I understand the reasons for me not going home – I don’t have a break from school and it isn’t worth it. But I still feel a bit homesick. I miss the company and warmth my family contributes. Even Skype sometimes can radiate their heat just by seeing their smiles.

Rain is my favorite weather. It is cleansing, simple, illuminating, and crisp. It is new. It is familiar.

I like to write when it’s raining. To me, it is inspiring.

Goodnight/Good Morning.

Have a wonderful Sunday.

I miss you.

Xo 

fog, short buses, and a few classes later

If I ever questioned where my tuition money was going, it was answered this morning. I waited on the corner of 79 New Montgomery, in the foggy misty morning of the lovely San Francisco, for the “Hayes Express” to take me to the undergraduate registration building. The short white bus, marked clearly with Academy of Art logos and print, stopped in front of me. I approached the vehicle, entered, and sat down in the middle row next to the window. The driver switched shifts and we were off toward my destination. I was personally driven on my own short bus. I felt like a movie star as we rushed around traffic in the busy city. Everyone questioning who was on that short bus!

All right, I am being a bit dramatic, but I did feel special. Moral of the story is that I am now registered for spring semester and I am incredibly excited about it. First of all, all of my credits from the University of Utah and Firenze Arti Visve transferred! I saved two semesters worth of classes and money. For being told that none of my credits would transfer from either school – this was an exciting surprise.

My classes for next year are:

            Photoshop for photographers

            Quality of Light

            Visualization

            Written Communications of Art

Monday through Wednesday are 8:30 to 11:30 a.m. classes and the Thursday is 12:00 to 3:00 p.m. - exactly what I wanted.

The professors all have really good recommends. One is my favorite professor from this semester. He teaches very limited amount of classes and I never thought that I would get another opportunity to work with him. Another one was described as someone who is hard, pushes beyond the recommended course, and makes students work outside of their comfort zones. Mrs. Garcia (my personal representative) said, “He isn’t an easy class.” I just looked at her shocked that she would even question this and said, “I don’t want easy.” Turns out I am one of the few who wants a challenge because currently I am the only one registered for his class. Interesting, eh?

My morning was productive and made me excited for my future education. : ) Also, I found this quote that I simply fell in love with and find the desperate need to share it with it:

"to be modern is to find ourselves in an environment that promises us adventure, power, joy, growth, transformation of ourselves and the world - and, at the same time, that threatens to destroy everything we have, everything we know, everything we are." _ Marshall Berman

Have a great Friday! xoxo

time is such a hungry beast

title: "waltz for pony" by boy

I write to you frustrated with the current situation my fellow students have present in a college setting. This last week we received an assignment in my Fundamentals of Photography class.

The assignment was simple: photograph a subject (that cannot move or be moved) in different ways, do not edit, change all to black and white, print a contact sheet with twenty of your best images, print one of those images, bring to next class to critique. There were no hidden rules, confusion in the details, or misleading statements. It was crystal clear. Elementary my dear. It was even printed word for word in full paragraphs on a hand out and in our syllabus received on the first day. No surprises.

Today in class, I was one out of five people in a classroom of twenty who did the assignment.

Out of those five people, I was the only one who followed the directions.

I sat there astonished as the excuses poured out of mouths around me.

“I did not understand it”

“I was busy.”

“I could not get my hands on the paper.”

Silently I answered them all in my head.

What did you not understand? If you were confused, you could have either called one of the numbers of the students in the class we exchanged on the first day, or you could have emailed our professor who stressed the importance of not being afraid to use his email and ask questions.

What exactly were you busy with for a whole week that you could not find the time to shoot at least twenty photographs of any object of your choice? I find this hard to believe because as beginners we are all in the same classes. I have the same workload as you. I had time to spare, even after doing homework for our other three classes, and spend a whole day walking from one bridge to the other. Did I mention I also had time to go to the movies?

I will agree, finding the paper was hard, but with an entire week, a cell phone, and Google, you could have found the paper is six different locations just on Main Street alone. If that wasn’t possible or maybe right now you cannot afford it, you could have dug up that contact sheet previously mentioned and asked a classmate where they got their paper or if you could borrow a few sheets. I know I would have said yes. Maybe you were too busy, that’s what happened wasn’t it?

Seriously, ladies?

We are in college. Not only are we in college, we are all adults. Legal adults. Adults who can take care of themselves, who know we have to pull our own weight, adults who can solve a problem when it comes up, an adult who knows what is expected of them and does what is expected.

Every time you show up to class unprepared you are not only throwing more than two hundred dollars out into the crisp wind, but you are wasting your time. Have you ever thought about how your lack of preparation affects my learning? Have you ever thought about how it makes Tim, your educator, feel that you do not take his class seriously or have the respect to follow through on little things he asks? Do you realize these projects and lectures and classes and textbook readings are not punishment or busy work, but actually have meaning that will help you in what is supposed to be your career choice?

I actually feel bad for you.

After brushing fifteen unprepared students to the side, I focused my attention on those who were prepared. They did the assignment; they deserved feedback, respect – just like I expected to receive in return. Critiques are the best way to learn and to grow. I learn from you, you learn from me. That is why I go to onsite classes and do not just sit home online in my pajamas and a bucket of ice cream.

The first to present set up her work. Her prints were in color. Her subject placed in different places around the yard. Her subject was in different positions. The only part that followed the instructions was that she printed out her work. The class responded to the colors of her work in excitement. They were drawn to it. As my teacher said “let’s pretend that it is in black and white and focus on the image and what she could do better” the next comment to follow was “I really like the colors of the garden and how it brings out her subject.” Did you really not just hear the words that came out of his mouth? He is done with the color. He wants to know about composition, about lighting, about anything other than the color that is not supposed to be there in the first place.

Let’s just say, we never got off the color wheel.

I presented mine next. I was eager to hear feedback. I wanted to know what I could do better, what did they notice that I didn’t, how did they feel, what parts they didn’t like. I put my simple contact sheet up next to my one black and white photo. The response was neither good nor bad. Nor was it helpful. No one said anything without exaggerated prompting from my professor. They commented on my model (good, she deserves to be complimented, she is beautiful.) They mentioned my good use of shadow, but did not know what parts were shadowed or why it was good. It wasn’t like they didn’t like it or they did – they were just dead in the eyes, not involved, not wanting to be there. I took down my photographs with no helpful hints except more variation, which was also a positive reaction to my work.

I did a full circle.

Although no one had anything to say about mine, I was still eager to see other people’s work and learn from their experience.

The pieces to follow were in color, some were moved subjects, some were edited on Photoshop to boost the contrast. None of them followed the instructions like we were asked.

I felt bad as my teacher causally said “did I not say to put them in black and white” or “it’s the first time so I can see why you would make that mistake.”

When confronted about their pieces mistakes, lies fled like rivers. “Is this natural lighting?” “Yeah, it’s outside. I did use a reflector, but that’s it.” I do not know much about using my camera to it’s full possibility yet, but I know that you cannot get flawless skin and backdrops with perfect white/black contrast in natural light in the middle of Union Square with a plastic reflector.

Tim knew this too, but he didn’t say a thing. How could he?

His class had played him.

They took his assignment, his tips, his time, and threw it in the bottom of their though pile.

I would hate to have been him, because I hated being in the class.

I know this is my chance to shine. Be the one who does it right, blah blah blah. That doesn’t matter if no one else can put any effort in.

I cannot imagine thinking how the students in my classes act. If you do not want this, then please do not waste my time. If you are unprepared, do not show up. Your money is getting deposited weather you are there warming a seat or you are home being “busy.” Please, do not come unless your attitude toward the class is positive and you want to be there. The school could care less if you showed up. We are no longer in high school. We pay to be here. We go to colleges and university not because we have to, but because we want to. If you do not want to put a little effort in, get out. It’s week three and you have already proven you do not have the motivation to succeed in this program. Stop wasting your parents money, stop wasting your professors energy, stop wasting my time.

Grow up or get out.

Wow.

I feel better.

Goodnight. 

audrey verses the job market

I have been trying to get a job. 

You know, make my mark in this world, earn some daily income, help put chai teas on my table and concerts in my future, but it seems to me that the employment gods are clearly unhappy with me for a reason that I am unaware of.

People say that getting a job is hard, but getting rejected is harder.

I have applied to coffee shops, at libraries, for hair salon receptionists, and do you think any of them had the heart to call me and tell me that “I am sorry Miss Rotermund, but you are too good for our staff and we are sorry that you did not get the position.”

No.

None of them did.

None of them called.

I was left to soak in my misery of humiliation that I was so unwanted no one took the time to tell me so.

 

I even got rejected from an internship. AN INTERNSHIP.  How can a company who says “interns make the world go round” reject a wonderful person like me who is willing to work for free and is excellent at going for coffee runs? That is just real low company who will not be named. Real low.

On a lighter note, I applied to six jobs today. SIX. I am hoping that this is the lucky number, because obviously three was not the charm.  Everyone cross your fingers and Grandma, pray to the saints for me!

Okay.

I have a confession.

The main reason I desperately need a job is not because I am great need of money, I don’t have anything to spend money on, it is because I am lonely. I will admit it; I am tired of spending my days alone with the only company of my iTunes and studies.

 People, I need socialization.

It is very hard for me to wake up in the morning, get dressed beautifully, spend time on my hair and make up, spend time in a fifty-minute class, and go home without a word spoken to anyone. I have lack of energy to get make myself presentable if the only person to enjoy it is the creepy truck driver at the red light and the quick glance from the guy asking if he can use my pencil.

I am sure the grannies at 24 hour fitness love my bright eye make up, but I want more than those sag bags to notice and see it.

I do my homework, apply for jobs, and check my email every thirty minutes.

There is only so many times a girl can reorganize her room.

 I open the fridge multiple times, but get disappointed because there is nothing I want even though it is crowded with good foods. I am seeking company and no offense string beans just don’t do the trick.

My hard working family comes home from a day long of socialization, seeking quiet time, and all I want is to talk their ears off because I have been silent all day.  And I do talk. I talk a lot. And that frustrates all of them.

My loneliness is taking a toll on my family.

I need a social life.

So if you are out there future employers, please, take this plea for a job as a desperation to save the ears of my family and my sense of well being.

Please!

And while we are on the topic of mustaches…

Oh what Tuesday this one has turned out to be. First of let me tell you that my hair looked fabulous today. At least I thought so. Last night, I slept with my hair in a fishbone braid. When I took it out twelve hours later I had the sexy beach hair every ocean lover wants. What a great day to start my morning. The second eventful thing, after eating my yogurt, was taking my Italian Art History Final. Five different print outs of pieces of art were placed before me. For each one I had to identify and explain the piece, and then there was a second question that had to do with the detail of either the artist or the style of the piece.  I feel like I did all right, but it was the best I could do, so I am satisfied. (I also had my Photography Final Critique.. but that was a joke. Everyone loved my work. Actually everyone loved everyone's work. Charles just talked mostly. He does that often.) 

Today in the streets of Firenze there were wild protests. I do not know what these men were fighting about, but the city is on edge. There were helicopters flying around (this is really rare) and I was surrounded by men in uniform with bats, and helmets with face masks running to “designated protest areas.” It was exciting. If I get any news on what exactly was going down, I will inform you. Currently the rumor is something with a neighboring African country…. But that has not be confirmed. Don’t worry mom, I am safe and sound.

Isabella and Felix came over for dinner tonight. For those of you who do not remember, they are my two friends from the break dancing group. We had a delicious pasta dinner (surprised?) and then played a few rounds of the card game Spoons and finished with a great game of Bullshit. There were lots of laughs. I am going to miss those two.

We finished the night (when I say we, I mean Joanna and Rachel and I) by watching the film The Truman Show. It is hard to explain. I suggest you look it up. Watch it. Then watch it again. It was a mind blower.

Verbaledudette’s Gift Guide Item Number thirteen is: Something that is off the market: The Parmesan Cheese Pencil Sharpener.

(Just so you know, before this I wanted to put a copy of FUKT magazine on, but I could not find if you could purchase it! Is it an online only thing? This gift thing is a disappointment. Look at this link http://www.fukt.de/ and tell me if you can find a price. Who knew trying to play Santa’s helper could be so darn frustrating.) I give up. Listen folks, I have been collecting cool things for the passed two months and the last few nights I have become heart broken when the truth about these objects come out. I was thrilled to find this product. A pencil that shaves off cheese is genius! I was excited to show you this wonderful device. It’s unique, it’s classy, it’s fun, it’s artsy, it sold out completely after the first two weeks of sale time and the Germans are not making any more. What kind of world do we live in!?

Where to find it online so you can at least look at it: http://jazarah.net/meet-the-parmesan-cheese-pencils/

Price: Haha. Funny.

Let’s try this again. Today’s gift item from your favorite blogger is: TOO EXPENSIVE FOR YOU but I have to show it to you anyway. It is the Rocking Italian Scooter Deluxe.

I stumbled on this beauty a month ago and it was not until tonight that I noticed, not only that it was a lot of moolah, but also it is hand made from a guy that lives in Turin, Italia. How perfect is that? In his little “about this” section, he claims that the one you receive may be a little different because he makes the special for order. He may charge the big bucks, but considering what the process must be, I would buy this. I would buy this, but then not let my children get near it.

Where to find it: http://www.etsy.com/listing/41381029/rocking-italian-scooter-deluxe

Price: $2,300.00

Okay, here is a gift closer to your price range. (I am guessing Bill Gates and other million dollar owners are not interested in my ramble. I am guessing my audience is more normal.) Introducing the: ‘Stache Labbit Plush

Do not ask me what  a labbit is, but isn’t this the cutest hipster stuffed animal you have ever laid eyes on? Your kids would love to find this in their stockings! Even your boyfriend/girlfiend would love to get this while out on a romantic date that you will do before anyone else cause your cool and that is the hipster way to do things. Embrace the ‘stache my ‘sters.

Where to find this: http://www.kidrobot.com/Toys/PlushToys/stacheLabbitPlush7Inch.html

Price: $15.95

And while we are on the topic of mustaches… you might as well consider getting these bad boys too. Perfect for those men, and women, in your life who can’t grow fuzz beneath their nostrils. TA DA:  The Sunstache

Again, I do not know why they call it that. But you cannot resist these fabulous pair of shades. Get one for the whole family! Hey, even old Grandpa Joe would like to grow a bushy mustache once again! It’s a hell of a lot better than those ones with the fake nose because you do not have to breathe in plastic and you look natural. . . ish.

Where to find: http://us.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?itemdescription=true&itemCount=80&startValue=1&selectedProductColor=&sortby=&id=23510506&parentid=SHOP_STOCKINGSTUFFERS&sortProperties=+subCategoryPosition,&navCount=0&navAction=jump&color=&pushId=SHOP_STOCKINGSTUFFERS&popId=GENERAL_CATEGORY&prepushId=&selectedProductSize=&cm_mmc=Social-_-FB-_-20111202-_-sunstache

Price: $8.00

And here is a crazy picture of me because I felt like there wasn't enough random on this post. 

Tomorrow I have my Italian final. Wish me luck! Have a good night my friends. Stay classy.

P.S. Did you noticed I did not talk about the weather? You should be proud. 

P.P.S. The weather was bright and sunny all day. 

P.P.S.S. I just could not help it. 

ch ch ch check it out. wh wh wh what it's all about.

It is official. I am finished with both my photography final projects. Now the only task is going to printing them, but that’s easy compared to creating them. (But also not as fun.)

 I had a great day today. Really I did. For Art History, we went to the Uffizi Art Museum and got to see many famous paintings. My favorite was the head of Medusa by Caravaggio and The Birth of Venus by Botticelli. I am very proud of myself of how far I have come from the first of the year. I began with a clean slate, but not I have a better appreciation and understanding of art.

This afternoon, I had photography and finished printing. Hence, the first statement of this post.

The weather was nice today. Clear skies and warm temperatures. I could go into detail, but I feel like talking about the weather in each post is like trying to create small talk on an awkward date. I don’t want this blog to resemble an awkward date. I don’t want you as readers to not want to date this blog again. Don’t break up with me! It’s me, not you!

Anyways.

The Verbaledudette Gift of the Day is a Beastie Boys Vinyl Figure Set.

Say goodbye to those old fashion Barbies and Hulk figurines. This is what the kids want these days parents. Let your kid fool around with the craziest white group of rappers there are. Good for all ages! Read the following.... the explain it better than I do:

“Forget the four albums that topped the Billboard charts. Forget having a song named one of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time by Rolling Stone. Forget being named one of the 100 Greatest Artists of all Time by both VH1 and Rolling Stone. Forget being nominated for induction into the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame on more than one occasion. Having a full poseable action figure made in your likeness is the ultimate sign that you’ve made it. MCA, Mike D and Ad Rock – otherwise known by their infamous moniker Beastie Boys – have officially made it because they’ve been immortalized forever in action figure form. Each action figure includes: button down shirt, pants, shoes, white jump suit, safety goggles, work boots, safety vests, belts, extra hands and a stand. The price is steep, but the Beastie Boys aren’t “trying to take you for all your Mozarell” – all proceeds benefit organizations that benefit kids with cancer.”

Where to find them: http://coolmaterial.com/media/beastie-boys-action-figures/

Price: $750 (I know it is expensive, but think of what you are getting in return!)

I hope you have a wonderful evening! I am going to paint my nails neon pink!

Bye bye! Xoxo 

count your blessings

It is a quiet, chilled, evening tonight. The sun fell beneath the buildings early today (at least in my opinion) and ever since four o’clock, the city has been draped in a bleak darkness. I am currently writing this while cuddled next to the radiator under the kitchen window. A colorful blanket (that I got for my great deed of graduation, if you remember) is wrapped around my legs like a butterflies cocoon. I have two pairs of socks on to cover my tingling toes. My hands are purple. I know it is from the lack of blood they receive due to my disease, but I like to pretend it is just because they are too cold, like in cartoons.

 

            Looking outside the window, there is no light, except from an apartment window a few rooftops away. The curtains are drawn; open wide, and I can easily see the figures of an older male and female dancing. It is a slow dance, their bodies crippled with memories of a good life, but you can see they are in love. I sit here, imagining their lives. I guess they have housed three kids, two boys and one daughter, who are now all grown up and on their own travels. Maybe they fell in love early and were surprised with a child at a young age, pulling the idea of marriage faster than they thought it would come. The way they are holding each other is frail, beautiful, and supportive. It makes me think of my parents dancing on Friday nights after my Mother has had a stressful week at work.

            My Father used to always put on Macy Gray at five on Friday nights, in anticipation for my Mother to come home. Gabrielle and I, dancing together, watching my Dad nod his head and stir whatever meal he was making, a glass a wine swirling in his hand. He always comes over and grabs me, rocking me side to side, twirling me out. Ever since I was little my parents and I would dance together. I think they are the reason I love it so much and, not to brag, is why I am pretty good dance partner. My mom would do this twist to the floor as soon as she got into more comfortable clothes.  It is her signature move that the two of us always pull out at weddings. We wouldn’t eat until eight or nine, but no one cared because we were too busy in the music and the environment.

            I wonder if this couple does something similar. I hope my parents never stop dancing together and that one day I will stand outside of their house and look through their window and see the same image I see in the apartment a few blocks away.

And of course, it is music monday! Enjoy "Drop Names Not Bombs" by Louise Burns 

xoxo

"we make decisions in three dimensions."

*The title of this post comes from a school's website that I just stumbled on while accidentally Googling the wrong name. I found it entertaining. 

I have stared at this bright screen for the last five minutes trying to think of something witty to write. Most people would quit and call this writers block. They would walk away and eat something in hopes of it inspiring them, but I am not hungry and I really want to write. The only thing I can think of telling you right now is how much I love the band “The XX” because their songs are playing and engulfing me within their lyrics like a baby swaddled in a blanket.

I mentioned earlier of a press conference I was asked to photograph because I am in charge of documenting photographically the art show, in celebration of Giorgio Vasari’s five hundredth birthday that is taking place at my school this Saturday. (I think I have failed to tell you that I am studying in his studio. His frescos are where I learn Italian. It is just another reason why I am so lucky.) The press conference was held in the city council building about a five-minute walk from my school (honestly, everything is only a five minute walk away.) I was introduced to a few of the artists that have pieces in the exhibition. They looked like they should be Italian artists with their squinty eyes and crazy hair. All of them had charismatic smiles and I am excited to see what each one is capable of artistically. The four of them, including Melania who is not only an art professor at my school but the curator of the event, sat in front of rows and rows of interested journalists. It was evident that I was the only photographer because I was the only one who was not seated and the sound of my camera’s shutter echoed around the high-rise ceilings. I could not understand a word said, but facial expressions spoke clearly as excited but nervous hand gestures guided a stroll through their own artistic biographies and reasoning for their involvement in the show. I took a total of two hundred and fifty photographs in a forty-five minute period. No one was surprised. All in all, my images turned out well and I am now in anticipation for the big night on Saturday where I get to dress up and am in charge of “capturing the moment” all night (no pressure.) 

These are some images from the event. 

This is Charles (my photography teacher, also he is married to Melania.) It was funny because he stopped to tie his shoe on the way over. I asked if I needed to document this and if it was part of the show. He said yes, joking, but of course I took a photograph. Then we get inside the building and he points to this poster. I ask if I need to take a photo of this. He says yes and then poses. Oh Charles. 

The beautiful, flawless, Melania getting interviewed. 

The book this man is looking at is what Melania put together for the show. It is quite adorable and is on sell for ten euros. I am really thinking about purchasing one for memories and to show off in Salt Lake.  This is also my favorite shot of the day. 

This is Nicola, my Italian teacher. He came to the event to support, but also his father is some amazing artist. 

Overal shot of the room. Notice the balding heads of all the men. Those Italians have hair everywhere but their heads, obviously. 

Again, Melania looking dazzling and puzzled in the sunshine. 

Italian was freezing yesterday which made it a little bit of a challenge to pay attention. I never told you this, but we learned the alphabet last week. It was strange because the Italian’s do not have five letters that we use commonly in English. This wasn’t apparent to me until we asked how to say each letter. Now I want to teach you. Here is your Italian lesson of the day: L’alfabeto

A (aw)

B (bee)

C (chee)

D (dee)

E (eh)

F (effay)

G (gee)

H (aka)

I (ee)

L (ellay)

M (emay)

N (enay)

O (oh)

P (pee)

Q (koo)

R (array)

S (essay)

T (tee)

V (voo)

Z (zeta)

Obviously the words in the (parenthesis) are how you pronounce them. Interesting, eh? I find it strange how they just neglect a few letters. It makes sense why Italian’s cannot spell my name correctly, because there is no Y!

Last night Joanna left to meet Ricardo and she sprayed something near me so much that I could taste it in my mouth. (Is this how my family feels when I spray my “sexual almond” spray?) Rachel went to the library and I had the entire apartment to myself. It is times like those where I get lonely, but it is nice because I can play whatever music I want and read in pure quietness. Speaking of reading, I finished reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower for the fourth time yesterday. I love that book so much that I do not mind reading it over and over again. It is one of those that you can relate to in some way or another and makes you think about your first few high school years. I know I just graduated, but freshman year seems like it happened forever ago. I have begun to read Lunar Park by my favorite author Brett Easton Ellis. I cannot tell if it is a biography or part fiction. So far he has been talking about how he started his claim to fame and also his introduction to seductive life of the real “brat pack.” His writing is so addictive to me that I had a hard time putting it down.

Also last night, around nine o clock, I did not feel good at all. My head felt kind of a balloon and my stomach was dancing around inside of me. Rachel made me some English something tea that kind of helped, but not enough to make me feel like doing anything. I went to bed at nine and fell instantly asleep listening to the entire Florence and the Machine’s “Between Two Lungs” album. Today I did not wake up until nine thirty. Twelve hours of sleep and feel great! I ate a banana for breakfast along with a nice cold glass of water. Sometimes I think I just get to caught up in the moment of being here and do not let myself rest!

It is raining pretty hard today. Walking to school, I slipped on a cobblestone and almost fell. Luckily I pulled out of near disaster with a graceful bend of the knee. The city is darker, covered in a grey blanket, but is still glowing. The lights are fogged creating a ominous atmosphere. In the studio, where I am sitting now, the ceiling is made of glass. This amplifies the sound of the rain while you watch the drops splatter on it. I have a slight chill because my shoes are wet.

I discovered today that all those photographs taken on my pinhole camera did not work because the film never rolled. I have to shoot it all again. But that is okay.

Well I talked you ear off long enough, I am going to go get a sandwich from Pino’s because I deserve it for being such a nice person. Why am I a nice person? Well today I smiled at everyone I saw and picked up some woman’s scarf and returned it to her as she was walking away. I think that deserves a panini. I hope you are having a great day.  : ) I really do. 

xoxo

Ciao Ciao. 

we're catching bullets in our teeth and though it's easy when you know how it's done

I am an official slacker. It is already a week into the New year and I have not written anything in here. Already a big fail to my resolution for 2011. My life has been crazy good lately. School started with a bang and rushed me in fast with homework and school activities. I feel like I haven't stopped moving, but it is fun.

Im getting stressed but overly excited about Take Five coming up. Auditions are on Wednesday! This whole producer thing is turning out to be very magical. It is rewarding to me to see my directors excited and involved. I just want this year to be memorable for Take Five. I want to awaken a tradition that I think has disappeared a little. There is an entire list of producers before me, and when I add my name to that list I want it to mean something. When people read my name on that list I don't want them to remember me- I want them to remember Take Five 2011. I want them to think of the friends they made, the plays they were a part of. I want them to remember the laughs they had and the inside jokes. Maybe this is the year someone is cured of stage fright, or gets their first lead. I want my name to resemble a highlighted memory. As producer, it isnt about what people remember me for, It is about what they remember from Take Five. Thats what it is all about. My name will stain the page as an experience as part of a tradition.

sorry for rambling. it was needed.

I am currently obsessed with Bullets by Tunng. So listen in..


'Bullets' by Tunng from tunng on Vimeo.


goodnight.