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 

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. 

call it A.D.D but I call it lack of motivation.

My hiatus from writing was not because I did not have anything to say. Due to the redesign of my template for this blog, I could not find out how to re login. A pathetic blonde moment mixed with my inability to understand technology for more than a few minutes. Call it A.D.D but I call it lack of motivation.

I started my job. With burned fingertips, sweat, and hair sprayed bangs, I have been doing my job as breakfast waitress. Good news is that they have not fired me yet, bad news is that I am not very good at this whole get up every morning and go to work like normal people who want an income. I ride the train downtown each morning before the sun winks behind the mountains. Dressed in a men’s shirt, fish tie, and a black vest, I report for duty. Only one piece of toast has been dropped in the two weeks I have been considered an employee. I have yet to be asked for my number, but I hope my movie moment will appear one day.

The air is incredibly dry today. Gaping like fish without water I sweat and watch as my eyeliner makes it way from my eyes down my cheek. 

screw the idea of waiting for magic, everyday is magic.

I have been waiting for a sign, an inspiration, a moment of pure overflow of word vomit to appear in my lap. I was waiting for something to fall from the sky or for someone to yell a story from across a room. I was waiting for magic, but I came to realize that magic is in the every day simplicities. I realized that every single day something happens that is important at creating my life story. I had lots to say while I was in Italy because I was so fortunate to have the opportunity to live and thrive in a foreign country, but I am also very lucky to wake up each day in Salt Lake City, Utah with a wonderful family, good friends, and a place to call home. So screw the idea of waiting for magic, everyday is magic. And what you just witnessed was me having a moment of clarity, a moment of thankfulness, and a realization that every day needs to be lived like it’s my last.

You finish reading that and now the sigh of relief floods out of your mouth because Audrey’s sentimental, tender time is over. Now it’s on to the things Internet junkies love to hear. For example I recently (like yesterday) purchased an iPhone. It is incredibly addicting and I personally apologize to anyone I ever publically made fun of for being so obsessed with an electronic. This device can do everything, like Instagram and Foresquare while Tweeting about it and posting everything on my (and your) Facebook timeline, ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I feel like I am part of club now, the iPhone Club. We should get jackets.

Well, I just checked my iPhone and it said that it was past my bedtime. Here’s to better posts in the future and to being thankful for everything we are presented with. xoxo

a new flavor of man candy

How come when you tell someone you are doing really good they immediately ask who the new boi is? Can't a woman be happy without a man? I mean lets face the facts, what is so appealing about a man that makes people think we need them to be happy. This sort of thing just boost their egos. I just want everyone to know that I am loving my life right now and am doing really well, and no, it ain't because of a new flavor of man candy. 

Glad I got that off my chest.

I still don't have a job, just incase any of you were wondering. Applications are being sent out daily. Today I applied to two different positions in the same company! 

I really need to write this when I am not tired and am more focused. I am now regretting the decision to start a post, but I am to lazy to delete all this nice type. Enjoy it, for it did take some effort. 

Goodnight. 

P.S. I learned that if i make my post titles sound more provocative, the more hits i get. My top read post has the title "Eski-hoes." 

please don't regret signing up for the email

Dear Family and Friends:

I know when you got the message that I would be blogging my way through Italy, you thought it would be more exciting than my lasts posts. Truth is, I even thought it would be more exciting. What has happened to me is Florence. I have been overcome by it's city that when I finally sit down to write about all the little simple things that make up my day to day life here, I can't. I get bored with writing them down. I get lazy due to the clock striking eleven thirty. I created this gift guide as a fun thing to post every day. A way to connect me to home. A way to count down to my departure. I know, it probably is not what you expected or what you find cool, but please stick with me. This blog is much more than advertisements for christmas gifts. It is my life, what I find cool, what I want to write.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerely,

the blogger who is concerned you are bored and disappointed with her posts

Verbaledudette Gift: # 8

Konforte Chockolates: Savory Combinations that are Easy to Love

These will create the best stocking (i almost wrote stalking) stuffers. There unique flavors are sure to give your taste buds a run for their money. They are anything but boring. Just look at those flavors. (If you do try one, please let me know how they taste. I am very curious.)

Where to find: http://komfortechockolates.com/
Price: $3.49 (individually)

Have a good night. xoxo