Slightly Lovely

Book Review: The Probable Future by Alice Hoffman

2009-11-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

The foundation for this novel is its lyrical, lovely and relentless sense of place. Set in a small, history-ridden village outside Boston, Alice Hoffman begins her story with an appropriate yet fanciful description of Massachusetts winters. As intrinsic as the plot and the people, the buildings, homes, streets and trees in which her characters live have lives and essences of their own. This was probably my favorite part of the book. I loved the mystical, folklore element that permeates every page. To illustrate, I just opened one at random and here's a sentence describing the local library:

"Matt especially liked the collections room when it rained; he felt as though he were in a fishbowl, swimming toward knowledge, diving into the journals of the Hathaways and the Elliots and the Hapgoods."

And the aforementioned passage on Massachusetts:

"Anyone born and bred in Massachusetts learns early on to recognize the end of winter. Babies in their cribs point to the brightening of the sky before they can crawl. Level-headed men weep at the first call of the warblers. Upstanding women strip off their clothes and dive into inlets and ponds before the ice has fully melted, unconcerned if their fingers and toes turn blue [...] Who could blame the citizens of Massachusetts for rejoicing when spring is so close at hand? Winter in New England is merciless and cruel, a season that instills a particular melancholy in its residents and a hopelessness that is all but impossible to shake."

Needless to say, it's clear that part of Hoffman's writing style and charm are a result of her exaggerated prose. As a lifelong Massachusetts resident, I'd like to think my life and mood are not entirely defined by the weather. When I look out on the gray, early November sky outside my window and the rapidly thinning trees, however, I can't deny that Hoffman has hit a nerve.

It's not the only time she does so in this labyrinthine and whimsical book. Despite her meticulous attention to physical environment, Hoffman also devotes time and energy to issues intangible: mother-daughter relationships, alcoholism, and death. In fact, her ruminations on death are unwavering and impressive.

The Probable Future is more than a "fairy tale" (The New York Times Book Review) or a "magical escape" (Marie Claire). In ways, it is certainly both of these things, but also more - it has the mysticism of a fairy tale and the distance of a magical escape. But it is very much grounded in reality - of love unspoken, of regrets and dreams unrealized, and of the confusion of youth and the clarity of old age. It is the rarely successful combination of the real and the ethereal that makes Hoffman's novel a real accomplishment - and a special, not easily forgettable read.

Anna Wintour and The September Issue

2009-10-18T10:36:00.000-07:00

The endless fascination with Anna Wintour has only intensified recently, largely as a result of the recession (as all eyes have been on Conde Nast, watching and waiting to see how they would cut costs in the face of swiftly falling magazine profits), but also because of this fall's documentary, released on select large screens on August 28th, The September Issue.

I dragged my boyfriend to see this movie on one rainy Saturday night last month, after my mom and I failed to find a theatre featuring the movie close to our home in central Massachusetts, and after plans with my friend and coworker Sarah fell through. Ever the good sport, flexible eater and easygoing accomplice, Alex followed me into a Loews on the upper West side, where I wrestled our way into the two last decent seats in the auditorium.

I'm not sure what I was expecting - perhaps something grander, revealing a slice of the extreme elite, luxe life Anna Wintour is privy to as a result of her position. But what I found was something different.

The movie opens with several testimonials from people who work with Ms. Wintour, like flame-haired Creative Director Grace Coddington (whose role in the movie is just as, if not bigger than, Anna's herself) and Vogue publisher Tom Florio (a down-to-earth, kind and gracious man I was lucky enough to hear speak while at Columbia Publishing Course), who expound on the mighty and supreme status Anna holds not just at Vogue, or in the realm of magazines and fashion, but in the world. I believe I'm recalling accurately that one person literally said she was the most powerful woman in the world, without a hint of irony.

In fact, the movie convinced me not only that a job at Vogue isn't necessarily the dream career of a lifetime, but neither is Anna Wintour's job - or maybe just her life.

Bee Schaeffer, Anna's daughter and the spark that started Teen Vogue, is featured a few times in the film, and every time it is at home, with or without Anna. For me, the most interesting part of the documentary by far was the insight it lent into Ms. Wintour's family dynamics. Bee, for example, is planning on going to law school, saying of her mother's profession: "I really don't want to work in fashion. It's just not for me. I respect her, obviously, but it's just a really weird industry. It's just not for me. She wants me to be an editor. I would never put it down, but I just don't want to take it too seriously. People in there act like fashion is life. It's really amusing, but if that's your career- there are other things out there, seriously."

At one point, Anna asks her daughter's opinion on a potential cover shot, and appears surprisingly invested in her daughter's reaction. I guess it just goes to show you that no matter how cold-blooded and cutthroat someone might appear to be, family still has the ability to get under their skin. In a poignant moment during one of Ms. Wintour's few direct interviews, we see a crack in her polished exterior of flawless ensembles and no-nonsense interactions. Speaking about her two brothers and one sister, all of whom have made careers out of political, justice and rights-related issues, she says quietly, "I think they're very amused by what I do. They're... they're amused, so."

Anyone at all interested in this woman has likely heard the story she tells anyone about how she ended up where she is: In filling out an application that asked her career ambition, her father, a British newspaper editor, said, "Well you want to be Editor of Vogue, of course." Says Anna, laughing, "That was it. It was decided."

While I've always had the sneaking suspicion that Anna Wintour's supposed inhumanity has been over-hyped, The September Issue both confirmed my instinct and dashed my high-flying hopes that this woman leads the most glamorous life there is (as The Devil Wears Prada would have audiences believe). She might have standing personal invitations from every designer to fashion shows and fetes, she might have a shiny car service with blackout windows and all the Starbucks in the world at her disposal; she might even have a lovely daughter and lots of friends to enjoy the frills that come along with her position. But even in an industry with some of the most talented, brilliant people there are, Anna Wintour has been at the top with people bending over backwards to satisfy her every whim for twenty years and counting. Wouldn't that get boring after awhile?

What Would We Be Without Wishful Thinking?

2009-10-04T09:11:00.000-07:00

Jeff Tweedy asks this question in one of my favorite Wilco songs, Wishful Thinking. Everyone thinks, everyone wishes. Think about it. How much of life is purely thinking about something you don't have? How much time do people spend thinking wishfully about a person, a job, or certain traits or events? Being thin. Getting married. Having a baby. Attaining your dream job. Your dream home or apartment. A certain possession.

There's nothing wrong with wishing for something. Thinking about your goals in a positive way is actually proven to be one of the most effective ways to help them manifest. The ideal situation is supposedly to actually enjoy thinking about the things that you want, even if you don't have them that.The key is that when you emerge from that fantasy, to be okay with the fact that it isn't real. Yet. If you get stuck on the fact that you don't yet have the things you want, this will become your status quo, and it's literally impossible for those things to come to you.

This phenomenon has been observed and explored by many spiritual leaders and philosophers. Everyone has a different way of saying it, but anyone can observe this happening if they try. The person who has been overweight forever, who wants to be thin more than anything else but just can't seem to make it happen, either does not believe deep down that they can or will lose weight, or cannot stop focusing on the reality: that they are still fat. When this is the case, when you give the present that much power and attention, it's impossible for something new and different to replace that perceived reality.

People overestimate the importance of perception. What you see is not what you have to get. Strategic thinking and creative action can be an amazingly powerful combination for transforming your life. This is surprisingly easier done than said. It requires minimal effort; in fact, any action or thought that feels like work is one that should be immediately dismissed. Life, the new "happiness" school of thought tells us, is not supposed to feel like work. Proponents of this philosophy advocate such pleasant axioms as:

-Being selfish is the best thing you can do for anyone else (because unless you are happy, you have little to offer other people)
-Doing and thinking what feels good should be everyone's number one priority
-Anything that feels bad is bad

While this recipe seems oddly simple, and in some ways it is, it won't work unless you understand the subtext. It does not mean that if you are at work, and you feel unhappy, you should quit. Rather, you should change your way of thinking. Says Eckhart Tolle, a leading spiritual teacher and author of A New Earth, "You are present when what you are doing is not primarily a means to an end - money, prestige, winning - but fulfilling in itself, when there is joy and aliveness in what you do. And of course, you cannot be present unless you become friendly with the present moment. That is the basis for effective action uncontaminated by negativity."

The point seems to be staying positive. Eckhart tells us that this isn't as hard as it sometimes seems when you realize that all you have to deal with and stay positive about is this one moment. Once you have that down, it doesn't seem so unrealistic to imagine a future filled with sunshine and rainbows.

Yoga in a Bottle?! I'm Sold.

2009-09-23T12:27:00.001-07:00

So, I'm a semi-frequenter of hippie shops. You know - whenever we cross paths. I mean, why not? They're kinda great. They have everything from all natural tea, organic food and body products (lip balm addiction anyone?) to candles, music, incense and medicine.

The last time I was in one of these stores, my mom and I were standing in line and she picked up this wee yellow spray-bottle and said, "HANNAH, I've been meaning to get you one of these... you need it!"

It was Bach Rescue Remedy spray, which claims to help de-stress you naturally with two quick spritzes to the tongue. It works, it really works! I just have no idea how. It actually tastes kinda alcohol-y... and, whoops, when you look at the ingredients, alcohol makes up 27%! Is there anything more to this supposed "natural remedy" than an itty-bitty taste of booze, perhaps combined with some lemony-chamomile-y herbs? I sort of doubt it... But who cares?

While it's not QUITE yoga in a bottle, it's cheap and tiny, and kinda nice to have with you in your bag if you suddenly feel overwhelmed at work or in the subway. So GET SOME!

Not All Music is Driving Music.

2009-09-11T05:18:00.000-07:00

Due to a series of misadventures, yesterday I found myself in the car by myself for 7 hours. And I did a lot of music listening. The following are not new songs, but rather great classics that I rediscovered, with the exception of the last one, which I never really appreciated until I was alone in my car in the middle of nowhere on an endless drive. I was in sort of a fall state of mind - the weather has suddenly turned crisp and sweater-worthy, which I love. It's actually my favorite season. Anyway, I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular, but I also was in a more serious musical mood than upbeat pop or hip-hop. And isn't music always about mood? Especially when driving.

"What the Snowman Learned About Love" by Stars. I first fell in love with this song 2 years ago. It was during a winter drive in Vermont. I was in a pickup truck with my brother, and it was an endless January vision out the window. It's kinda trippy, but also just plain pretty, and while you kind of have to be in the mood for it to fully appreciate it, I still never get sick of it.

P.S. this clip is from a ski movie, Long Story Short, but it was the only decent version I could find.

"Down on the River by the Sugar Plant" by Mike Doughty. Sorry it's not a real video, but at least the song is good quality. My relationship with Mike Doughty began freshman year of college, when I was introduced to his music by my friend Alyssa, whom I met first semester while studying abroad in France. She played "Rising Sign" while a bunch of us were watching the Visualizer on her ghetto Dell laptop, bored from hours on a coach bus touring Bourgogne and slightly stoned after a few hits of crappy hash. Oh, college. Oh, Europe.

"Heaven Adores You" by Earlimart. When this song came on shuffle last night, I shivered because the guy's voice reminded me so much of Elliott Smith. It turns out this whole album, Treble & Tremble (2004), is a tribute to E.S., whose chronic depression/ tortured genius misery ended in suicide by stabbing in '03. To me this song is one of those "soundtrack to my life" songs... It seems like it should be the background music to the closing scene of a deep and meaningful movie or something. The most melancholy of the three songs here, it's good for contemplating, ruminating and zoning out.

Happy listening.

Randomly Observed

2009-09-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

Can we talk about the similarities between Pinkberry and Twitter (the frozen yogurt company and the social networking website)? Visually speaking, I mean. Think about it: the pastel colors (baby blues and pinks) and odd, modern, minimalist decorative tendencies? For instance, I just clicked on my Twitter page and got this message " Something is technically wrong. Thanks for noticing - we'll have things back to normal soon." As if, if the Twitter techies don't repair my tweet homepage ASAP I might have a minor breakdown. The tone is all soothing and personal.

And here's what it looks like...

Ads for Pinkberry's new delivery service (available in New York only, of course) are similarly cutesy, colorful and minimalist at the same time.

And both logos use a rounded, pastel font:

Odd - yet undeniable no? It kinda goes back to this post I did awhile ago about the return of all things wholesome and pure. Something about it appeals to people. The whole concept of "tweeting" (like little birdies, we announce our gossip and thoughts in adorable, high-pitched online "tweets"!) is sort of sugar-coated. And there's no need to plumb the metaphoric symbolism of sweet, adorable happy design in a place like Pinkberry, whose (very lucrative) business is that of feeding the insatiable American sweet tooth, especially when the experience is all bright lights, boppy music and energetic, ever-smiling staff (aren't they?!). Pinkberry even has the whole "green" and "all-natural" cravings satisfied - every product's calories are listed proudly beside its price, and the sign announces the yogurt's beneficial live cultures. What don't these two new-age, pretty-pretty, everything-positive brands have to be happy-happy about? And now with Pinkberry's new delivery service, you can even consume their two very different products at the same time.

Sometimes the Only Cure for Writer's Block is a Good, Old-Fashioned List... Here's Mine:

2009-09-05T12:32:00.000-07:00

Californication's Hank, a writer (played by David Duchovny)

1. What I'm reading: The Night of the Gun by David Carr, Do the Windows Open? by Julie Hecht and Tender is the Night by Scott Fitzgerald ....Yes, I read multiple books at once, always have. Unless it's reeeeally good, I get subject ADD.

2. What I'm listening to: "I Turn My Camera On" by Spoon, "Mexican Dogs" by Cold War Kids, "Body Control" by Leighton Meester ... oh and also having a bit of a Strokes relapse

3. What I'm watching: Californication, United States of Tara

4. What I'm thinking about: My trip to New York this past week, the 2 interviews I had, what my future holds (consulted Susan Miller, of course, who claims I have good things coming in my professional life in early Sept.)

5. What I'm doing tonight: Driving down to the South Shore to hang out with my friend Kalli and her brother JT in Boston

The New Venice: What New Orleans Might Have Been

2009-08-28T08:55:00.000-07:00

This really smart article is about New Orleans and its post-Katrina potential to adopt the Venetian water street system.

I've been only to Rome and nowhere else in Italy, but I can't help but remember Elizabeth Gilbert's critique of Venice in Eat, Pray, Love, which I happened to read while studying abroad in Athens.

Here are her thoughts on the "stinky, slow, sinking, mysterious, silent, weird city":

"Venice seems like a wonderful city in which to die a slow and alcoholic death, or to lose a loved one, or to lose the murder weapon with which the loved one was lost in the first place. Seeing Venice, I'm grateful that I chose to live in Rome instead. I don't think I would have gotten off the antidepressants quite so quick here. Venice is beautiful, but like a Bergman movie is beautiful; you can admire it, but you don't really want to live in it [...] The beautiful young Venetian woman who owns the restaurant near where we are staying is miserable with her fate. She hates Venice. She swears that everyone who lives in Venice regards it as a tomb."

"Invisible Cities" breaks down and refutes this reaction, which is not a new one:

"When we insist that these cities are doomed, perpetually dying, we manufacture sublime visions of distress that prevent us from understanding how they might be saved... We develop a tourist's gaze, which allows us to feel a bittersweet pity for 'doomed' people and 'vanishing' ways of life that we will never know, nor be forced to feel responsible for. When we travel to such cities, we believe that we might learn something about ourselves, 'other' cultures, 'human frailty' - but often we are learning precisely the habits and ways of seeing that will preserve us from such experience."

But how did people begin to get this idea? "I had no idea Venice had that association," my boyfriend said to me.

Apparently, it's rooted in Venetian literary history, "which has developed since the city's end in 1797 at the hands of Napoleon. Thereafter Venice became little more than a backwater in European politics, occupied first by Austrians and, ever since, by tourists. Outsiders like Lord Byron began to develop an aesthetics of the city that focused less on its imperial past and possible future, and more on its apparently depressed, moribund, and timeless present. The idea of a 'sinking city' became irresistible as symbol [...] [John] Ruskin's successors - Henry James, Marcel Proust, Thomas Mann, Mary McCarthy, among many others - have merely confirmed and reconfirmed his view of a dead, Narcissus-like city, so much so that McCarthy was able to declare in 1963, perhaps wistfully, that 'tourist Venice is Venice,' and attempts to find the 'real' city would always already be forfeit."

The notion that perceptions of different places are often manipulated and cemented into place by literature is not a new one either. In The White Album, Joan Didion observes:

"Certain places seem to exist mainly because someone has written about them. Kilimanjaro belongs to Ernest Hemingway. Oxford, Mississippi, belongs to William Faulkner. A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itslef, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image, and ot only Schofield Barracks but a great deal of Honolulu itself has always belonged for me to James Jones."

I agree with the latter notion that people's perceptions are so often determined (without them realizing it) by people who came before them. "Invisible Cities" reveals a harsh truth about the rhetoric and 'romance of doom.' It's an easy out for many Americans to liken New Orleans to Venice, cities that are talked about and visited often, but are also subconsciously accepted as having fates that are out of our hands.

For me, Memphis belongs to Elvis and Paul Simon; Concord to Louisa May Alcott; Walden Pond to Ralph Waldo Emerson. The French Riviera belongs to Scott Fitzgerald and Los Angeles to Joan Didion. Indeed, people with sufficient talent can take a place, mold it like clay with their words, and give it entirely new meaning. But can a city like New Orleans break from the chains of perception? Is it people who make the cities they live in, or do some places have a life of their own?

Extravagantly Noted

2009-08-25T05:08:00.000-07:00

This is a pile of notebooks gathered from around my bedroom (I'm sure there are more hidden on shelves, in closets & drawers). In this pile, there are spiral notebooks, leather notebooks, still-wrapped notebooks (for when I finish my current notebooks), half-ripped out notebooks (I have a bad habit of looking at what I've written later and thinking it's dumb), school notebooks, personal notebooks, 4 small Moleskine notebooks (the "legendary notebook of Hemingway, Picasso and Chatwin"), lined and unlined notebooks; you get the idea.

Superfluous, you think? Unnecessary? I can't help it. I don't know what it is about pretty notebooks and journals, stationary, pens and lists. I gravitate to and accumulate them. They give some sort of pleasure with an associated productivity that is magnetic and seductive to me. On my laptop screen, I have two Mac "stickies" with the titles: TO DO (general), MONDAY NIGHT and SOON.

If this behavior sounds familiar, I would guess that you might be just as enamored as I was last week in Kennebunkport, when I happened upon what I think might be not the quaintest or prettiest notebook I've ever seen, but the most practical and useful (equally appealing, albeit in a different way). It's called a Life Log. Which I suppose all notebooks are, in one form or another.

The moment I saw it, I wanted it. Upon flipping through it, I was only further captivated and positive that this one purchase would be the one to complete my life (fellow shoppers, you know the draw of this feeling).

This Health Log by Knock Knock has five genius different sections: A Food Log, an Exercise Log, a Body Log, Sleep Log, and Habit Log.

What sorts of details might one write down about these types of things?

For sleep, you can keep track of time to bed, wake time, mid-sleep wake-ups, sleep quality, caffeine intake, late eating, alcohol intake and more. For general body, there are categories for recent medical visits, future visits you need to schedule, current medications and vitamins, heart rate, blood pressure, weight and upcoming body goals. And so on and so forth, for habits, food and exercise.

They market it to health-minded friends, family, or those "just starting out on lifestyle changes."

They forgot the demographic of list-making notebook lovers comme moi who just like to write stuff down, in case I might want to know it later. It gives me a sense of calm to know I'm keeping track of and recording things; that way I don't have to do it in my head.

Brilliant, no?

Vince: The Fall Collection is Here

2009-08-24T09:32:00.001-07:00

The Best of Vince: Fall 2009

Fringed square cashmere scarf:

Gorgeous.

(In Wild Grape, Nile Blue, or Black)

Herringbone boyfriend jacket:

Sexy.

Paper leather jacket with draped lapel:

Sexier.

Jersey and leather miniskirt:

Sexiest.

Oversized silk ivory blouse:

Classic & classy.

Cable fingerless gloves:

Cozy.

Hooded sweater coat:

Lovely.

Jersey harem pants:

Tomboy-cool.

Oversized cable cardigan:

Timeless staple.

(In one color only: Coastal)

What you get with Vince: Wardrobe classics with beautiful lines and quality fabrics that last forever.

What you don't get: Extreme innovation, risk. Vince isn't for when you're in the mood for anything too hip or trendy. It's as timeless as it is modern, and the fit is perfection, but simplicity is the name of Vince's game.

What Is So Compelling About Meryl Streep?

2009-08-24T08:34:00.000-07:00

She's held some of the most memorable and notorious film roles in modern Hollywood history. According to IMDB, she's "considered by many movie reviewers to be the greatest living film actress."

She riveted us in The Devil Wears Prada as Anna Wintour's icy alter ego (and with her unforgettable deadpan, "Florals? In spring? Groundbreaking"). We couldn't take our eyes off her sloppy, singing self when she played Donna Sheridan in the converted Broadway musical Mamma Mia (yes, Ms. Streep actually sang). And if you've seen her latest coup of a role, as Julia Child in Julie and Julia, you'll agree: She's done it again.

With a relentlessly theatrical sing-song voice and persona, which is apparently a dead-on imitation of how Ms. Child actually was, Ms. Streep chatters, flourishes and comically cooks her way through this sweet, happy cream puff of a film.

As the New Yorker aptly put it: "Julia Child, in The French Chef - her first TV series, which began in 1963 - was amazingly quick. Moving her pots and pans and little bowls of chopped onions and clarified butter around the counter, she might have been a three-card-monte player in Times Square. In Julia and Julia, Nora Ephron, who wrote and directed, and her star, Meryl Streep, push the mannerisms a bit. Like a tall ship in full sail, Streep leans, tilts, and billows. Odd explosions of air - whoops, exclamations - come hurtling through the passageways. She runs out of breath, then settles, mysteriously, like an old Bible that italicizes ordinary words, on a single syllable. It's all extremely funny, but Ephron and Streep stop short of camp. They know that there's no way anyone can make, or would want to make, Julia Child look second-rate."

I would imagine this is true. But I know more about Meryl Streep than I do Julia Child, and I think her true talent lies in her ability to play a persona, real, made-up, living or dead, midway between how the public might like to imagine this person, and how that person really was.

Take Anna Wintour, for example. She is, without a doubt, the most successful female editor in fashion. And if we're honest, we know that all the tales of the dragon lady clearly mask something more real, complex, and probably just as worth talking about - a strong, highly intelligent and ambitious woman who shot to the top of an ultra-competitive, cutthroat field. But that's not the story The Devil Wears Prada aims to tell. Viewers are not interested in how or why Ms. Wintour did what she did to get where she is; what they want to see is her humanlessness, her lack of mercy and compassion for a young go-getter who just wants to get through this crappy, shallow fashion job so she can become a New York journalist. And that she does.

But I digress. What was, and is so compelling about Streep in roles like Anna Wintour and Julia Child, is she makes the inaccessible figures of fame feel tangible to the ranks of average Americans. We get to gasp in shock and hiss in dismay when "Miranda" orders her poor assistant Andy, who is at dinner with her very distressed father, to "GET ME HOME!" from Florida, where a hurricane rages outside. We get to love and hate Miranda Priestly simultaneously (for who doesn't reel with satisfaction during her monologue about Andy's lumpy blue sweater, which is actually cerulean, and was in fact "selected for her by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff"?).

The same is true for Meryl Streep playing Julia Child. Ms. Child is lovable, endearing and down-to-earth (I fought the urge to refer to her as Julia). When her husband, Paul, asks her over dinner at a Parisian restaurant as Julia is trying to decide what to do with her time in France, "What is it you REALLY like to do?" She replies, bubbily as ever: "Eat!"

Now really, who can't relate to that?

Astrological Absorption

2009-08-23T07:44:00.000-07:00

In the September issue of Elle, Editor-in-Chief Roberta Myers advises us at the end of her Editor's Letter to "Check out our new horoscope pages by AstrologyZone.com author Susan Miller... Susan has an incredible following, and we're thrilled to welcome her to ELLE!"

Intrigued by the apparently genuine enthusiasm of an editor so successful as Ms. Myers, I obediently turned to page 494.

"As soon as Labor Day is over," read the Gemini horoscope, "you'll need to hit the ground running, as a major career development is about to culminate around the 4th. Your expenses will be high due to the tour of feisty Mars in your income house, and getting a raise will be difficult. Bide your time... In September's second half, you'll be ready to take on a big responsibility at home before making big changes on the job. This could involve buying your first house, renovating your kitchen... Remember, you're an adaptable Gemini- you'll wind up on top."

Encouraged, I decided to visit Ms. Miller's website, AstrologyZone.com. After all, my two big life goals right now are obtaining a job and an apartment, and she'd just given me a rosy outlook on both.

"Susan has received worldwide acclaim for her accurate, comprehensive monthly forecasts on Astrology Zone," trumpets Susan Miller's website. "Her site generates a following of six million unique readers per month and 17 million page views." Impressive. No wonder Elle, InStyle, and CosmoGirl had all turned to Ms. Miller for their horoscope pages. I mean, we all read them, right? Because why not? It takes 30 seconds, and it's always entertaining to read something supposedly "personalized." Even though we're all savvy enough to know that it's probably a hack, it's fun and harmless. We all forget about it within five minutes, right?

Wrong. Yesterday I read Ms. Miller's August astrological forecast for Geminis (May 21-June 21) and I've far from forgotten it.

"As you may have guessed, month could turn out to be as sweet as a ripe peach. The full moon lunar eclipse in Aquarius, August 5, has your name written all over it... Publishing and broadcasting projects will glow, and sudden opportunities to write, speak, or lecture may come up out of the blue. If your birthday falls on June 4, plus or minus 5 days (mine is June 9), this full moon eclipse will benefit you in ways that may amaze you.

Later in the month, there will be more emphasis on communication arts, and this will be a result of the new moon, August 20. As you see, this month will be really up your alley, for virtually all the areas highlighted will be ones associated with Gemini. Lecturing and speaking, writing, editing, proofreading, teaching, selling, marketing, shipping and travel, public relations, publicity, advertising, and copywriting all will be blessed by the new moon, August 20. These are the very areas that you, as a Gemini, are usually drawn to - the "news" and information industries are 'you.' "

As if this forecast were not eerily relevant enough to my life, Ms. Miller goes on to name certain days to be aware of.

"Difficult days include August 21, when your ruler, Mercury, will oppose Uranus. You are likely to be very tense, and things will be subject to Murphy's Law - If things can go wrong they probably will, sooner or later... It is not a day for a big date, big meeting, or big negotiation. Keep your head down and out of the line of fire."

Fascinatingly, August 21 was a bad day. My mom and my brothers and I were packing up to leave my grandmother's beach house in Wells, Maine, because we'd heard a nasty forecast for rain that afternoon and that whole weekend. We were planning on getting up early, washing all the sheets and towels, packing up the car and stopping for breakfast on the way home. From the very beginning, everyone was irritable with one another. After we finally got out of the house and were in the car, my mom and I got into a fight because I found a CD I'd made her for Christmas scratched and ruined. By the time we got over it and sat down to eat, my brother and mom started to fight about whether he was going to move in with one of his friends who my mom doesn't like. The whole day was like this, until we got home and the tension dissolved because we got some space from each other.

Point being: Anything that could have gone wrong did. Even though it should have been a perfectly pleasant trip. Props, Ms. Miller.

And then: "The weekend of August 15-16 gets gold stars for a quick trip out of town. You may travel again after the new moon appears, August 20, and those trips (which will be close by and quick) may bring strong profit potential. In fact, in weeks or months ahead, you may notice you are traveling much more frequently."

Interesting. Last weekend, the one mentioned above, is the one during which I drove from Cape Cod to Harvard, Mass., met up with Alex, and we drove up to Maine together. And had an amazing time. Also, her prediction regarding future travels certainly applies to the the back-and-forth between not only these New England locations but New York, where I hope to return in the next couple weeks.

I'm starting to see why this woman has such an enormous following. If Susan Miller was right about these matters, what else does she know about my future?

I may find out on August 26, when she warns that "I may find that someone is very forceful about a financial matter." Her advice: "Don't cave in, but if you do fight back, have your facts straight."

I'll let you know how that goes.

Rich Hippie: Bliss

2009-08-22T13:20:00.001-07:00

Last summer, while shopping in Portsmouth, New Hampshire with my mom, I discovered what has become one of my favorite perfumes: Rich Hippie.

Deliciously paradoxical in name, Rich Hippie is a line of organic scents. The company has been featured in Elle, British Vogue, and Body & Soul, among other magazines. And rightly so. With over 2o different perfumes (including 4 unisex scents) with titles like Maharishi, Bohemian Wedding, Wild Thing, Marrakech and Woodstock, the $65 vials are a heady blast from the past that my generation never got to experience.

Applying Bliss, my Rich Hippie scent of choice (which are rolled on, not spritzed), onto a wrist or behind an ear is a quick thrill, a musky post-shower reminder of all things naughty and forbidden. I'm not saying Rich Hippie is sex in a bottle, but there is something dirty about all the scents. Even though Bliss is one of the milder, sweeter perfumes, it still contains outdoorsy notes of dirt, hay, flowers and joints.

If you don't have the $65 to spare, but want to bring out your inner hippie, try the $15-20 sample bottles offered online.

Review: Playing with the Grown-Ups by Sophie Dahl

2009-08-22T12:06:00.000-07:00

By the granddaughter of literary legend Roald Dahl, Playing with the Grown-Ups is precisely my idea of beach reading (something I've been doing a lot of). While I devoured the not very challenging 270 pages in 24 hours, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

While the novel has been critiqued for its heavy dependency on Sophie Dahl's own life as a model (it's about a Scandinavian family of tow-headed beauties), and while I would not hail this book as an intellectual triumph, it is a smart, well-written collection of lovely words and descriptions that comes together altogether quite nicely.

Our heroine is Kitty, illegitimate but ferociously loved daughter of Marina, a gorgeous blonde with artistic fancies and chemical imbalances. Marina has two younger sisters in their twenties (when the story begins), Elsie and Ingrid, and two very likable parents (a lovably gruff, cussing father and gentle, sweet and domestic mother).

The story centers on Kitty's perception of Marina and her difficulty finding a steady foothold in the world as a result of her bohemian mother and being at the mercy of her life choices (separating Kitty from her younger siblings and sending her to boarding school in London, abruptly pulling her out and moving her to New York, moving the entire family to an ashram in North Carolina, only to uproot them back to London later).

What I loved about the novel was my ability to be transported away from my life and into Kitty and Marina's shimmering, lush, wild and unkempt world. By the end, or even at the start, the reader has no illusions; Marina's beauty and charisma clearly is not enough to keep her family together and afloat forever. But Dahl, via Kitty, shows us through her eyes what allowed Kitty to believe in that possibility for as long as she does, and why, towards the end of the novel, she has to let go.

If you're looking for a quick but enchanting read, this one's for you. It's the equivalent (not in time, but in brain power and emotional investment) of two or three whimsical, offbeat, but beautifully filmed and well-acted movies.

Review: The Naked Oyster

2009-08-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

Parallel to the Independence Highway in Hyannis, Massachusetts, set in an unlikely concrete strip mall (next to Sprint Wireless), you'll find The Naked Oyster Bistro and Bar, a surprisingly delightful little gem of a seafood restaurant.

Inside, the Naked Oyster's polished, sparse but chic interiors are the perfect foil for a long, salty and sun-soaked day at the beach. Who doesn't love washing the sand and sea off at 5 o'clock, cracking a Stella Artois or Blue Moon, and enjoying clean clothes, the sunset and a good meal? That's what summer vacations are all about, after all.

Anyway, my family ordered a veritable banquet of a meal, so I had the opportunity to sample a variety of the restaurant's offerings. To start, I ordered a glass of Brut Cava and Oysters Rockefeller (oysters with butter, spinach and seasoning, baked on the half shell), which were aromatic and delicious. My brother Lucas had french onion soup and was absolutely enraptured by it; so much so that the rest of our vacation was spent ordering and comparing other onion soups (none of which lived up to the Naked Oyster's). The rest of the table had standard raw oysters, which were also heavenly.

Without going into the blissful dessert experience (bread pudding, blackberry cobbler and a cheese platter), The Naked Oyster is absolutely worth the expense if you're on vacation on Cape Cod, and in the market for an indulgence of a meal.

Car Talk

2009-08-18T06:45:00.001-07:00

My dream car

I want it in white, black or red. Sedan, not convertible, year: early 90's. Close seconds to the Bimmer include Mercedes, Saab and Volvo. I like my cars vintage, boxy, and not too big. Leather interiors are preferred, ideally in light colors. Also, the stereo must be decent and the speakers not blown. A sunroof is nice, too.

My old car

I miss my '87 Benz wagon, but my brother slid on some black ice 2 winters ago and it's gone now.

My current car is a maroon Grand Jeep Cherokee, a picture of which I don't think is necessary. I like my Jeep, although I'd prefer an older model (seeing a trend?). It was perfect for college in Maine, when I would pack up my life and move around a lot, and take lots of skiing road trips to Sugarloaf. When buying me a car, my dad will consult me, but at the end of the day, he owns it and my family will use it (especially now that I'm living in the city).

A Weekend Recap, Replete with Pictures

2009-08-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

Islesboro, Maine

I seem to have become a paradise-hopper of sorts. I went from my family summer home in Brewster, Cape Cod to Islesboro, Maine, my boyfriend's family summer home. Islesboro is a very small island: 13 miles long, a few hundred yards wide in places. During the winter, less than 700 people live here(full time "Islanders), and during the summer a few thousand do. It's a teeny-tiny hideaway that consists of generations of families and their sailboats. Two famous celebs have homes here, but Al just told me that I can't give their full names, but since this blog has a limited readership so far anyway, I'll let give you some hints. One is a tabloid-magnet, particularly for her weight, and her last name is a synonym for "lane". The second name is bigger and more exciting; I will tell you that when he bought his house here, he was warned that he better not bring the paparazzi along with him (it literally contradicts the purpose of this place)... He has a beautiful wife and daughter, and they used to have a vacation home in Oahu, Hawaii. He's over 50, prefers his airplanes big, and is rumored to make outrageous salary demands. Also, he likes to eat at Denny's.

I consider myself tres, tres lucky that my life mainly consists of boating, beaching, drinking, eating and sleeping these days. I can't really say that enough. It gives me happy things to do and write about. I am lounging and lazing about, much the way I would be if I were stuck at home in Harvard, but doing so in these beautiful places is much more fun. Plus it makes for better blog posts.

Here are some of the things that Al and I did this weekend:

-Saw a scary movie

Orphan. Awful, awful, awful! Seeing and renting scary movies is one of our ritual date activities, and we both agreed (though he was more miserable than I was) that this movie was horrendous. Excruciating, in fact! It's one of those movies where just watching gets you worked up, and not in a good way. The first 3rd of it was tolerable; I didn't mind the characters (specifically the mom and her two real kids... want to take a guess at who survives in the end...?), and the plot started out pretty suspenseful. There were also some decent attempts at Hitchcockian film techniques (mirror tricks, Psycho-esque stabbing scenes, etc.), but it all dragged on too long, the plot twist (which actually was a surprise) came about half an hour too late, and by the end we were exhausted by the dumbness of the characters and their actions... Yes, it was that type of experience. Don't waste your money; at least wait to watch it for free on bad cable TV.

-Went sailing!

Yesterday, on his family's Bull's Eye, Vision. It was truly perfect sailing weather, blue skies and breezy.

-Power-boated to Camden Harbor for dinner

We went with Alex's older sister Hatsy, who's in law school at B.C. and is about to leave to spend a semester working at the Hague this fall, and their younger brother Chris, who will be a sophomore at Colby this year. We had lots of fun, drank beers on the ride, ate outside on the deck of this restaurant called Waterfront, ran into this middle-aged guy they know there (who Al says is kind of lame) and subsequently "raced" back to Islesboro after dinner.

Tarratine Yacht Club

Al just finished his morning cigarette and is now making us coffee. I'm applying for the latest MediaBistro editorial assistant job and we're planning our day. Possible activities include: Lunch with his cousin; golfing; going to the mainland and drinking Bloody Marys on the way, yummm; and sitting around his grandmother's pool. Rough life, huh.

Quotations for a Rainy Day

2009-08-13T07:23:00.002-07:00

"I'm an editor and not a writer because writing is hard. And editing is easy!"

Bob Gottlieb (Legendary editor of Catch-22, Sex and the City, The New Yorker,

and Woody Allen look-alike)

"Editing is all about giving away your ideas. If you can't do that,

forget it. If you want credit for things, then this job isn't for you. Editing

happens behind the scenes- it's about making someone else look better."

Amy Goldwasser (Freelance writer and editor)

Slightly Lovely is on BlogPulse.com!

2009-08-13T06:03:00.000-07:00

One of my posts made it onto BlogPulse's "BlogBites: Bursty Stories/Themes of the Day"! It was the July 24 post about movie previews (#27 on the list).

Check it outtt.

Perhaps I'm overly excited, but I just stumbled upon it and it was so cool to see my blog named on a professional blog trending site!

xo, Hannah

Autumn Aesthetics

2009-08-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

Check out these gorgeous fall collections I came across by Trina Turk and Autumn Cashmere for Fall 2009. I have been a huge fan of both these designers for years (I remember my first purchases from each, both classics: An oversized tweed clutch before going abroad to France, and a deep orange crew-neck sweater).

The pictures are chic and whimsical, exemplifying the look I'll be going for come fall in New York. Also, I cut my own hair (not a first)... not only that, I gave myself some pretty serious bangs. I may or may not put up pictures here; I'm kind of embarrassed- It's a really big change. We'll see.

outright obsessed:

AUTUMN CASHMERE

The first thing Autumn Cashmere does right is their models. They are the epitome of the girl they want to wear their clothes. She has style, but she's not overstylized. She likes to be cozy, swathed, if you will (I always like to think of myself as swathed in layers of warm, well-fitting clothes during fall and winter).

Also, she has just a touch of dorky about her, but not really. She turns her skinniness, which has the potential to be awkward, graceful and chic. The clothing hangs baggily in the right places, and fits snugly where it needs to. The sleeves are just long enough (people who think these sleeves are too long give away their unfashionable eye)

The benefits of whimsy: being serious and playful at once, it gives any ensemble that little girl playing dress-up feel

The models wear makeup and their hair is done, but it doesn't appear to be so. You'd never look twice because of it: The face, hair, and bodies are all meant to complement the clothes, and complement they do. I adore it, and I'll be working hard to emulate it come cold weather.

P.S. I love her oversized professor glasses combined with the teased red hair. Inspired.

Review: Him, Her, Him Again, the End of Him by Patricia Marx

2009-08-10T09:50:00.000-07:00

I got an advanced reader's edition copy of this book in a 2-for $5 deal on the street in New York a couple weeks ago, along with The White Album by Joan Didion, which I've yet to start. And boy, was it a fortuitous find. I loved it!

This book is a fiction novel about a girl in her 20s who is smart, dry, and hilarious but has the very unfortunate personality flaw of being one of those chicks who obsesses, quite incomprehensibly, about a totally non-obsession-worthy guy. His name is Eugene (enough said, no?), and thank god, she doesn't gush about him too much. There are tons of other lively characters along the way, and I found it amazingly believable (the details are of the "who would think of this unless it happened to them" variety, which makes for an excellent book) and relatable.

Here's what Melissa Banks, author of the comical Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing had to say (remember, this was the advanced reader's edition, meant for other authors and publishing people):

"If you're like me, you read an [endorsement blurb] and think, Oh, I didn't know they were friends. But I hardly know Patty- we had dinner once (with other people, and all she had was a Diet Coke). So you can believe me when I say: This may be the funniest book I've ever read. The Funniest. And keep in mind I didn't write this blurb as a favor to Patty. I sort of did it for you- in case you're like me, and dying for someone to pick out the funniest book in the whole store, so you can take it home and laugh your head off."

Isn't that an excellent endorsement, since it screams "This isn't just another sales pitch!"? I thought so. It's a big part of why I bought the book, besides the fact that it cost me $2.50. Oh, how I adore cheap used books! It's the most satisfying and guiltless purchase, n'est-ce pas?

Okay, so here are a couple quotations I underlined because I thought they were especially smart and funny.

"I had a feeling, deep down, that Eugene was bullshitting me. They say you know everything, but you don't really know; what you have is a pretty good idea. It's the uncertainty that keeps you in the game. They also say you'd be surprised how little you know about someone. I'm an optimist so I find that hopeful. By the way, I don't have any problem believing that one sort of knows everything and nothing at the same time and I hope you can live with that, too."

"The party after the show was at the new chic place, an innovative steak house called What's at Steak. There was no steak on the menu. That was the innovation. I sat with a few of the cast members- the actress who never wanted to be in a sketch unless she could wear period costume decollete; the former stand-up who, no matter what anyone was talking about, would butt in to say, 'I have a bit about that in my act'; and the token fatso actor. Joyce Slutzky strutted over to our table. 'Anyone have any gum?' she said. She pointed at me. 'I know you don't because I already looked through your purse.' I didn't know how to take that, so I ignored it. As soon as Joyce Slutzky walked away, the former stand-up said, 'A hygienist who chews gum. I have a bit about that in my act.'"

I don't know if anyone will find this second quotation as funny as I did, but I'll tell you why it especially called out to me: I've had what I found to be hilarious and not exactly normal encounters with roommates over what exactly constitutes acceptable borrowing/looking-through-your-stuff behavior. Boundaries are a funny thing. I had a roommate who weighed at least twice as much as me borrow my lace Hanky Panky thong underwear without asking, and then (even though I found them in her dirty laundry) claim that she's had her clothes disappear as well, and maybe strangers went through our shared room when we weren't home (even though we kept it locked). I won't go into some of the other incidents I've experienced, everyone has these stories, it always involves clothing, though. It's this type of everyday-ness that Marx exploits. She is dry and unrelenting in her self-deprecation and use of situations we've all been through. With a surprising and satisfying twist of an ending, Marx's relatable and endearing prose will leave you smiling and remembering her book long after you've finished it.

Unemployment Diaries

2009-08-10T08:30:00.000-07:00

I think one of the things I'm most afraid of as I spend time with my family on vacation is losing touch with the self that I love best, the one I'm trying to create a life for: a job, an apartment, a New York network.

I know that won't happen, because I know I'll find a way to make the things I really want happen. But right now I feel out of touch with people my age, city outings and culture, and an edgier, busier more challenging lifestyle. And I've only been on vacation for a week here, now.

I don't think people in my situation (people fresh out of college searching for employment mid-recession) are used to what has become our norm: less structure during out days, fewer commitments. We've always had teachers, parents and coaches to answer to. Now we're on our own, we've received years of education and preparation explicitly for this very moment- setting off on our own.

Don't get me wrong: it's a beautiful feeling. During those last few weeks of the Columbia Course, I was so antsy, just itching to escape that lecture hall, that obedient-student mentality. I love to learn, but I'm tired of listening! I'm tired of being taught! I think I know enough at this point to go give it a shot on my own. This blog is a part of me doing that. It's something I do by myself, it's an independent venture, and one that I enjoy. It's both introspective and interactive, which is perfect for me.

Maybe one of the reasons I'm having this moment of needing to reassure myself is because nothing has really happened yet. I know it's been less than 2 weeks since CPC officially ended, but I'm so restless. I want to get a job and start my real adult life. I know it's just a matter of time, but how much time? That's what I want to know. I'm trying my hardest to enjoy my time off and vacation in this beautiful place with my family (Cape Cod), but it's almost too easy. If I had some sure thing, a particular date on which I knew I'd be packing up and going back to reality, things would be different. I just feel like I'm hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting for something to pull me up to where I'll have a purpose again. Besides sitting in the sun and making pleasant conversation with my relatives.

I can't be the only one feeling this way, am I?

xo, Hannah

Feel Free to Cringe: Greatest Hits of Pseudo-Celeb Makeovers

2009-08-09T10:23:00.000-07:00

PEREZ HILTON
The Blog-ebrity Makeover: Because he's much more than a blogger, but not quite a celebrity in his own right.
Claim to Fame: Giving real celebs shit

Let's be real here, people. Perez has done a great job with himself. He may be no Humphrey B. or Brad P., but in my opinion he's done about everything he can with what he's got. Check out the changes: he's gone from an overweight slob, complete with D-Lebrity T-shirt (which you have to admit is pretty funny) to this cut bod, good haircut, and dece outfit. Props, Perez!

And I'm not just being nice in case he somehow sees this article and puts me on his Shit List, although there is reason to fear Perez... he's the god of the celebrity-hater blogosphere: Sucks to be Vanessa ("Vadge") Hudgens or Jennifer "Maniston." Anyway, I heart Perez, I'm not faking it.

MARC JACOBS
Believe it or not, the coveted designer needed some personal redesign.
Claim to Fame: Internationally acclaimed, obsession-worthy clothing line

Okay, so Marc was never as bad as Perez in the weight department. This before/after shot fromThe Examiner doesn't really show his transofrmation very well. I don't know where all the pale, frumpy, glasses-donning pictures from his past are (maybe he paid off Google). But youknow what I'm talking about, right? Even this blue-haired pic... Eww! Heinous. MJ looks a tad Guido here (I know that's not PC but it's true, with the ear studs?). Anyway, his personal style has improved tremendously (maybe even brilliant designers need personal stylists).

NICOLE RICHIE
Yes, this is a real picture, and yes, it's Nicole Richie.
From whale-like to waif, Nicole has done wonders with what little I thought she had to work with naturally.
Claim to Fame: Her family (musician father Lionel Richie, singer husband Joel Madden) and apparent eating disorder

This makeover is so spectacular it just needs to be featured here. After all, she did make the most of her stint on The Simple Life, and has been in the spotlight, it seems, forever after. Nicole doesn't really do anything, as far as I know, except carry Harlow around and not eat. But for this transformation, don't you think starving herself was almost worth it? I mean, look at the before pic! It was bad.

P.S. What do you guys think of the name Harlow? I think it's borderline trashy, but I secretly sort of like it. In fact, that pretty much sums up my opinion of Nicole Richie as a whole...

Review: 500 Days of Summer

2009-08-09T08:08:00.000-07:00

A refreshingly realistic, likable, sweet and smart romantic comedy.

I'm a total sucker for rom-coms: the good, the bad, and the terrible- I watch 'em all. However, I'd never recommend or tout one that I knew full well sucked (and I always know... don't let my personal low standards fool you). Anyway, perhaps I am exaggerating a bit. I know there are some ones out there that I've hated and would never watch twice. They'll come to me later, but that's how I know I've truly hated a movie... I'd never consider renting it again, let alone buying the DVD.

Friends of mine will vouch for this: I'm an absolute Repeat Offender of all things I consider good. Songs, clothes, movies, words. I use 'em all the time; I just about use 'em up. Crazy Beautiful is a movie I loved in high school- I would estimate I've seen it at least 30 times. If I like something, I figure, why not? At least I know it's good, as I press play for the umpteenth time. I'd rather have predictable pleasures than spontaneous, rare, happy surprises- on the whole, at least.

I do have to be careful not to get sick of things, though. That happens. Clothes especially. I tend to wear the 20 clothing items that make up the topmost layers of my drawers. That's why closets work much better for me. I consider myself well-dressed but once I've seen a shirt in a variety of combinations a certain number of times, it just gets this subtle but un-ignorable association for me: Old news. Boring. I've seen it and so has everyone else. Moot point.

Okay! Back to 500 Days of Summer. I absolutely ADORED it. Let me tell you why:

-I love Zooey Deschanel (who plays Summer, the protagonist's romantic interest) and I'm sorry, but who doesn't? How can you not? From her unforgettable older-sister wisdom one-liners in Almost Famous to her Bette Davis-reminiscent blue eyes, she's a great actress, entirely lovable and compulsively watchable. Plus, look at how hypnotically beautiful she is.

-The other main character, actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt: If you're like me, this name rings no bells. But the face will! It's Cameron from 10 Things I Hate About You, all grown up! He was such a cutie back in the day, wooing what's-her-face from The Secret Life of Alex Mack. And now he's so dapper!

-I love love stories.

-I love smart love stories (this one didn't have the boring, uber-conventional happy ending, nor the lame, obvious dialogue)... The script was good (the way people talked and interacted) and the acting was great, and thus the film was inherently believable

-I love watching young people in cities, since I am a young person in a city. (The movie's set in L.A., but the characters seem more New Yorky to me)

-The set, setting, costumes, people and personalities were all pretty, whimsical and sweet

-I love alternative, slightly-edgy indie-ish films, which this one was! But it was excellently produced, with an original time/plot structure and these cute little elements that broke up the story (little drawing-esque calendars that intermittently let the audience know at what point in the 500 days we were in)

-A clever, but not overly cutesy ending, that leaves your heart warmed, hopeful and satisfied

The bottom line: See this movie not just if you're in love, but if you're like me, and like to read and watch things that get you happy and inspired. If you believe in love or not, this movie addresses the debate and gives anyone food for thought. It's not cheesy, it's not dumb, and it's not boring- that means it's smart, funny and entertaining. I promise. Watch it and get happy!

Vote Amy for SATC Extra!

2009-08-07T07:52:00.000-07:00

Look how cool my friend Amy from CPC is! She auditioned to be an extra in the next Sex & the City movie (yes, there's a sequel coming out) and was noticed and photographed by a journalist.

Vote for her on Glamour.com. Maybe you'll help her get the part!

Dear Google Advertisers,

2009-08-06T12:00:00.000-07:00

FYI: I am only 22 years old, so my readers are not your target audience for the baby ads. I'm sorry if the mention of yoga, seeing plays and reading books led you astray. I'd stick with the NYC housing and entertainment themes. And I guess the Trojan condom ads are fine, although most of us already know all about those. Many thanks.

Love,

Hannah

The Best Therapy I've Ever Had...

2009-08-06T10:32:00.001-07:00

...Swinging

Like I said, yesterday I walked over to Brewster Park, where my brothers and I have played since we were little. Where we rode our bikes, played tennis and H-O-R-S-E with the old basketballs lying around, and where I, always and without fail, swung.

I've always been a swinger. When I used this word to describe myself last night at dinner, it sparked a conversation about "swinging," as in the kind where married adults drop their keys or watches in a bowl at a party, get drunk, randomly draw from the pool, and go home and then to bed with whoever they match up with. Sound like a rush? It kinda creeps me out for some reason. I'm fairly open to ideas about open relationships, anti-marriage and polygamy, etc. But this is obviously all people who know each other, so it's a bunch of friends being incestuous and cheating on their spouses. Bizarre, I think. But that's just me.

My mom actually told a story about my best friend when I was little, Katie, whom I barely remember because we moved away when I was in 4th grade, but what little I recall of their lifestyle I remember as bohemian. Apparently, as my mom confirmed, the parents were swingers. They were intellectuals, older than my parents, and somewhat alternative in their lifestyle... Anyway, they invited my parents, me and my brother away to their country farmhouse getaway with them, and appeared nude from the waists down in the morning for breakfast with my parents (sans kids, don't worry)... After having dropped several hints about the mom's attraction to my dad, and the dad flirting with my mom. Ick!!

Okay, but back to real swinging.

I love it, love it, love it. I've always been a swinger. Ever since I was a little girl. There's something about the rhythm of it: it's the way babies fall asleep in the car, it's why people love rocking chairs and hammocks: the back-and-forth motion.

I hated to be pushed, though. I really didn't like it. I liked to pump. I liked to control my pace. I'd get home from soccer practice in 5th or 6th grade, and you'd think I'd be tired out already, but it would be dusk, and I'd run straight from my dad's car down the hill behind our old Shaker-style house to our wooden swing-set. I'd swing in the spring, summer and fall. Snow's the only thing that could stop me (it froze the seats!). It calmed (calms) my body and mind like nothing else. I'd sing and swing, think and swing, or be nearly asleep and swing, and it always felt great.

My dad installed a wood and rope swing attached to a tree in front of the house we live in now,

but it isn't the same. Flat swing seats are okay, but wooden ones are not ideal- they hurt your butt, unlike those tar-ish ones they have on playgrounds. I'm small and narrow-hipped, so I still fit onto most playground swings, and when I do it, the rush of how good it feels always comes back to me, and I resolve to visit playgrounds more often (the ones that aren't overpopulated by tiny kids, where I would feel guilty stealing a swing from them).

The Brewster Park was perfect for this swing-set trip down memory lane; my grandmother's house sits on the Northwest, beachside corner of the private neighborhood, which is comprised of cozy cottages nestled on tiny properties amongst trees and shrubbery. The roads have speed bumps ever 15 yards (I'm not kidding), "Kids at play" signs everywhere you look, and family minivans and SUVs that are quite literally half the size of some of the homes next to which they are not-so-discreetly parked.

Swinging is also a great people-watching activity; I met a sweet middle-aged blonde woman who was there playing with her 15-month old nephew, Andrew, who had an impressive talent with the basketball, and who wrung his hands adorably in anxiety whenever the ball rolled over the edge of the pavement and onto a grassy area, which meant his tiny, inexperienced feet would have to make a serious surface switch- anxiety-inducing for anyone!

A little towheaded boy on a bike, with his tagalong younger brother or friend, also rolled up

to me proprietarily and asked "Who are you?" (that's how small this place is; everyone is already related or might as well be). Ah, a strange face on his playground. I couldn't blame his impudent curiosity. "My name is Hannah," I replied, and, satisfied, he sped away without further inquisition.

This encounter reminded me of something that happened with a family friend my parents have since lost touch with;

Maggie, pale, short and freckly, perpetually single and cat-owning, who went to Harvard but was always between jobs, apartments and cities. She used to take the train from Boston out to our house on the weekends, and my brother and I would eagerly await her arrival. Maggie did funny voices, tickled us and acted our age, as much our playmate as our mom's good friend. One time, at a family Easter gathering, my cousin Gretchen, who was probably 7 or 8 at the time, asked Maggie matter-of-factly, "Are you a kid or a grown-up?"

I hope I'm that kind of adult someday.

Slacker-dom

2009-08-06T10:02:00.001-07:00

I have been neglecting this blog terribly. I'll be honest. I haven't updated the sidebar links in a week, and the posts have been few, far between and not very exciting.

Let's see if I can rectify that.

Right now I'm sitting in a small coffee shop called Cafe Alfresco. I have the perfect corner seat: it's got an outlet just inches from my knee, a roomy table (so surprisingly rare!), and there's decent people watching but it's not too crazy. The only change I'd make, if any, would be more light- it's a bit dim in here. But that's okay.

Yesterday I had another rough day (not). I came to this same place in the morning for coffee, by myself, and on my way back to the house I stopped by the neighborhood park I've played in since I was a wee girl. After spending some time on the swings (one of my favorite forms of relaxation/meditation/thinking) I went home, got in the car with Mom, and we ran "errands" (aka we had to get out of the house). We went to this nearby town with cute shops, and I got this black crocheted bikini on sale, a pretty-smelling soy Tahitian candle, the August issue of Elle (where I dreamed I interviewed two nights ago, with my friend Tory from CPC, a skinny, freckled redhead- and in the dream, she got discovered for modeling) and three new books! Yippee! Then we went out to dinner and all three of us got lobster. It was a nice day, obviously. It's just that with the deck outside tempting me on sunny days and these sorts of mother-daughter-grandmother activities awaiting on cloudy days (like today), it's hard to force myself to hole up in my tiny room upstairs and do productive things on the on-again-off-again, uber-slow pseudo-wireless my dad got us temporarily for the summer (the beach house is NOT technologically equipped).

So here I find myself today, no longer able to ignore the things that are calling my name (emails to write, job boards to check, blog posts to actually write). Productivity, and more posts (for real this time) await!

Short (ish) & Sweet

2009-08-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

As you can see from the pics below, this isn't a bad place to kick it if you're unemployed for a bit, huh? Especially midsummer, when the ocean breeze is just starting to make the nights perfect sleeping temps, but the August sun is still prime for tanning.

All I did today was enjoy the gorgeous day, do some yoga, and read my book (Tana French's The Likeness, if you're wondering; the sequel to her original thriller In the Woods- highly recommend both!). Oh, and tonight I went to the Cape Cod Playhouse to see a musical with my mom, grandmother and her friend Carol Drake. It was dece. We were sitting next to the mother of one of the most talented and attractive members of the cast, so we had a fun chat with her at intermission.

Her son Josh lives in the city and is 25, and she offered to introduce me to him after the show. "You can give them your card!" said my mom. True enough. I did print those business cards (on smooth white paper, cute black font, with my name, number, email and THIS website!) for a reason, right? And I've got about 95 to spare... It cost me $40 for 100 copies; not the best deal ever but I've got to fake it till I make it. The woman, however, to my relief, forgot this offer promptly when the play ended. This was lucky since I didn't really feel like hanging around and making awkward small talk anyway ("He could be your first gay friend in the city!" said Debra, assuming his sexuality based on his profession- hmm, a good point, but I was too lazy to put in the effort... there will be others!).

Now that the play (which was called Smoky Joe's Cafe and involved lots of hokey, semi-entertaining musical numbers with relationship-related lyrics and male-female duets and dancing) is over, I have to get down to business... Business being applying to a job.

"At 10:57 pm?!" you exclaim? Why yes, I reply, because this evening I got an email from Susan at CPC saying that a HarperCollins Children's imprint (HarperFestival, who did Goodnight Moon and the Berenstain Bear books! I want it I want it I want it!) is seeking an Administrative Assistant and if I want a chance I have to send in my res and cover letter by 9am tomorrow. Ughhh. Actually, it's not that bad. I just applied for an ed assistant job at HC, so a few tweaks is all it should take. Plus me getting off this blog.

Goodnight!

Ummm, P.S. I just searched "Cape Cod Playhouse" for a pic to add to this post, and FYI, Cape Cod-themed dollhouses are apparently a big business. You know, saltbox shingled whatchamacallit-style mini homes for Lilly Pulitzer bedecked little girls? Duh! Shoulda known... They have created every other possible Cape Cod brand already (chips, jewelry, juice, you name it). Just sayin'. It's entirely predictable but still somewhat disturbing.

P.P.S. I forgot to tell you... Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart both performed at the Cape Cod Playhouse back in the 30s!! Isn't that amazing? I know. I heart Humphrey. Although my mom kinda burst my bubble tonight by telling me how short he was. Whatever, he was so-o-o sexy.

Welcome to Cape Cod

2009-08-03T06:34:00.000-07:00

Finally here!

Well, I got here yesterday, but this is how long it took to get home to Harvard, unload the truck, unpack, organize myself, repack, reload the Jeep, drive here, unpack again, and get the Internet up and running.

There will be lots more posting today if I have things my way (and I will!) but for now I'll just put up a couple pics to whet your appetite.

The Beach Barn

(My grandmother's house, where I've been coming every August since I was a baby)

The Ghost Room

(where I sleep)

The Front Room

(where my parents, but for now just my mom sleeps)

The Hotbox

(my dad slept here when he was a kid, now my brothers do)

Portrait of my grandfather on the left

Downstairs...

Bar area

(Sea Boots was my the name of my grandfather's sailboat,

after my grandmother's nickname, Boots)

Great Room

Old school desk

View from above

(you can't really tell but there are like a

gazillion fishing rods stored across those wood rafters)

Kitch

Dining room (and Scarlett)

Outdoor shower

Deck

Like 200 wooden steps down the bluff

Flats at low tide

Can you see why I love it here more than anywhere else in the world??

I'll post sunset pics later!

"Some People Need to Take Acid to Realize for the First Time That the Table is Alive, Too."

2009-07-31T09:52:00.000-07:00

So says Eckhart Tolle. I don't know if you know who he is; I only do because my mom is really into him. He's a leading spiritual teacher who teaches the method of becoming more conscious, and breaking the pattern of thought-dependence and preoccupation with the physical realm, or the world of "form."

Is it true that we are "addicted to the next mental stimulus because our world is totally on the surface of things; lacking in depth," as Eckhart believes?

I went to my first sample sale the other day, as I mentioned. Theory clothes are normally priced at $300 were selling for $50. It was absurd, and fun, and stressful all at the same time. It was such a great deal, a great opportunity to save money and still get sick clothes. But it was also stressful because there were about 50 other girls there doing the exact same thing as my friends and I were. Competing for that one dress or shirt.

By the way, I accomplished what I said I was going to do at the Theory outlet: Found a great, basic black pencil skirt and a stretchy, fitted black blazer for fall work clothes. Also, since everything was so cheap, I was able to also pick up a few new dresses (one for work and two that are more party/evening dresses but still versatile) and two blouses. It was fun. I was happy.

So do I agree or disagree with Eckhart on the whole "our world is so superficial" topic? It's hard to say. I guess I'd have to say yes and no. He's certainly right that with all the technology our society has access to, we have more material comforts, more things than we've ever had before. And for some, of course, that preoccupation, that availability maybe isn't so healthy.

The obesity epidemic, for example. I wrote a term paper on America's obese my junior spring of Colby, for this class called Biology of Women, which Alyssa and Liz and I were all in because we had to get rid of our non-lab science requirement. It was rough. It was taught by two not-quite doctor women, who were fairly brilliant, and we learned a lot of really relevant stuff- things we'll use in our lives, if we're smart. How to give ourselves breast exams, for example. That's really useful (of course I never do it, who thinks about that when they're in the shower, after their period every month? and yes that is the exact time they recommend that you do it, including the shower part). Also, we had to memorize the ovulation cycle- and every girl who's ever missed a pill or two of her birth control knows that knowledge can come in handy (i.e. does it matter? is this a day that I am or am not likely to get pregnant?). Anyway, back to obesity. It's a huge effing problem, I'm sure you've noticed. It's no longer a small perentage of us Americans, it's a very large majority. I don't feel like looking up the stat; go for it if you're interested. But we all know this, we hear about it in the news all the time.

I'm pretty sure this has been scientifically proven multiple times, but it's a matter of mere common sense at this point: Fast food and huge portions and small country-sized supermarkets and the availability of every kind of food from all over the world wherever and however you want it... It's affected us. And not in a good way. And that's a technology. That has to do with high fructose corn syrup. That has to do with a lot of other FDA corruption and gross, nearly inedible formulas that people consume every day. We didn't have that 100 years ago. We didn't even have that 25 years ago. Read Skinny Bitch. You will learn all this, as I did (and perhaps go temporarily vegetarian, although I got over that and am now as omnivorous as before). It's fucked up. It has its benefits, sure, we all love Indian and Thai and Big Macs and frozen pizza and Ben & Jerry's. And thank god, some of us are able to balance that magnificent bounty with healthy staples and exercise in order to maintain their physical health. But certainly not everyone can do that (and would you really expect them to?!). Our world is getting easier and easier every day in some ways, but it's creating all new problems in their place.

So yes, I do think Eckhart's right. But I don't think he has to be right. I think that's what his whole teaching is about in terms of the new consciousness movement. People are finally waking up. Some people, at least. A lot of people. We're figuring out that we've become overly absorbed in this or that: the Internet, clothes, plastic surgery, work, money, our Blackberries, Iphones, whatever it may be! And we're trying to get back into balance. I know I am. I won't delve too deeply into my own particular vices, at least not in this post (don't worry, I'm sure they'll come up at some point), but we've all got 'em baby. Let's be real here.

That's why we need people like Eckhart, who's pretty much got this all figured out, to guide the way.

Roof Gazing & Elevator episodes

2009-07-31T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to midtown to meet my cousin for dinner. Brent is a year older than I am and went to Bates. He works in advertising and has been here since he graduated; he says he loves the city for a lot of reasons but he's a country boy at heart and probably won't stay here forever.

We walked a few blocks from his building to this place on like 23rd and 2nd. He had pasta. I had crab cakes. We drank beer and caught up. It was fun. We had an animated conversation about the advertising and publishing worlds and our respective (or, in my case, nonexistent) careers.

Brent says it's been a wake-up call to realize what people in the adult, corporate world are really like. He has two bosses, neither of whom give a shit about Brent as a person. As a genuinely warm guy, he really didn't understand this for awhile. We were both raised by loving, involved parents in a cozy, safe home environment. We both attended structured, reputable private schools where our teachers and coaches became surrogate parents and family; they told us the truth, but it was because they actually cared. Neither of us is accustomed to the fast-paced, cutthroat business realm of cities like New York.

I'm hoping that being part of the literary world isn't going to be quite comparable to advertising. I mean, it's intellectual. I'm sure publishing has its fair share of assholes, but everyone who has spoken at the course has been down-to-earth, smart and willing to answer all of our questions and help. In other words, real. Even the President of Vogue was absurdly nice. For example, this middle-aged Chinese man named Wuping, who is very eager and always introduces himself and asks questions, raised his hand to say something after Tom Florio spoke. But for some reason- maybe Wuping was nervous- you couldn't make out what he was saying at all- and this wasn't just plain accent difficulty. Wuping was speaking jibberish. We'd all come to be able to interpret him because he spoke so often, but that day he really wasn't communicating clearly. And Mr. Florio was so great, so earnest about understanding what Wuping was saying without embarrassing him in front of everyone. He told Wuping they could talk afterward, and sure enough, sought him out to make sure his question got answered. Am I betraying my newb-ness in my starry-eyed optimism about city life and the working world? Well, I might as well go with the positive outlook while I still can.

After dinner, I went back to Brent's building to check out his place and meet his three roommates. They were really nice and funny guys, and we all went up on the roof of his building (which has a don't ask don't tell use policy) to have a few beers. The view was beautiful: you can see the Empire State and Chrysler buildings nearby, and all the way up and down 2nd avenue- although I was literally too short to see over the ledge, so as the boys oohed and ahhed at the pretty traffic patterns, mesmerized by the miles-long river of car lights, I pretended to be absorbed by the boring apartment buildings across from us (we were on the other side from the cool, tall, famous buildings at this point). The boys were telling me that they call Dorrian's (which they love to hate on) "Club D," to make fun of all the over-eager, often underage, preppy college coeds that make up the clientele. I'm totally adopting the phrase.

At around midnight, I started yawning nonstop, and was really starting to feel the crab cakes and mashed potatoes I'd just eaten settling in my stomach. I said I would probably catch a cab soon. The boys slowly meandered back to the door on the roof, taking their time checking out all sides of the building. I was really starting to feel funky, like weak. Like I needed to lie down or something. So I just headed for the door without saying anything (I had no energy for social niceties, I just wanted to get out of there), and luckily, they followed. Still, at this point we were like 50 floors up or something, and I knew it would be a miracle if I made it all the way down to the street without incident. I was starting to feel really nauseated.

We got in the elevator.

A few floors down, the door opened and a cleaning woman with a huge cart decided (of course) to try to squeeze in with us in the fairly tiny elevator. To no avail... the door closed again. I was spending all my energy on remaining upright and breathing.

Several minutes later (this was taking way too long!), on either the 27th or 11th floor, I have no idea which, his three roommates got out to go back to the apartment. The edges of my vision were starting to go black and as I stepped out to let them out everything went fuzzy. I couldn't even manage to say goodbye to them- I was afraid I would throw up or pass out. In the very back of my barely functioning brain, I was embarrassed, but unfortunately I didn't really have the luxury of worrying about that since my more basic bodily functions appeared to be failing.

We got back in the elevator and the door closed. There were four other people or so waiting to go down as well. My vision was now completely black, I couldn't see anything and I felt like I was going to either throw up or collapse. I grabbed Brent to steady myself, but couldn't speak or look at him.

"Are you okay?" He asked urgently. I just shut my eyes and shook my head.

He rushed me out of there when we got to the lobby. I was just grateful he was holding me up, and guiding me to the street.

"Fresh air will help," he said, and was right. My vision started to come back, but I still felt on the verge of throwing up, and I was trying to articulate to him what was going on, but speaking was a huge effort. I asked if we could sit down for a bit before I hailed a cab. We did.

Thank God he was there- I still don't know what happened, but by this point I was clammy and hot, and my forearms and hands were stiff with pins and needles. They felt asleep and I couldn't move them to wake them up. It was all so bizarre.

Brent went to a corner store and bought me a big cold bottle of water and Gatorade, hailed me a cab and ushered me into it, giving the driver directions. By this time I was breathing more normally and could see. I didn't feel on the immediate verge of vomiting, but still felt weak and nauseous. I just wanted to collapse into bed with a trash can next to me.

By the time I got home, I was fine. Or, still feeling shitty, but not as frighteningly so. I paid the cabbie, made it inside and upstairs, locked my door and fell into bed, but not before texting Al that I was sick, goodnight and I'd fill him in tomorrow. It was sooo bizarre.

This morning I feel perfectly fine, save for a brief dizzy spell. What the...?

The Blank Canvas of My Future

2009-07-30T06:17:00.001-07:00

I'm tres depressed. Al left me this morning. His phone alarm went off at 7 am, and of course I haven't been back to sleep since. He's now on a train back to Boston. I begged him to stay one more day (there are more apartments to see!), but he has to get back to work tonight. Ugh.

On the bright side, now I can clean my pit of a room since his pile of stuff is gone. I like having sleepovers (even though it's in this tiny dorm room bed) but it's another thing sharing my tiny single for more than three nights. Sigh.

I can't believe my stint in New York is almost up. Today will be spent blogging and sending out heaps of emails to people I met on Monday, also picking up business cards Alex ordered and forgot to pick up. I'll probably sit outside at Nussbaum & Wu, drinking coffee, hiding behind my Ray Bans and being antisocial. Not an awful prospect, actually. But first I need to do some yoga.

Blahhh, I'm not ready to leave the city. I mean, the Cape is heaven and my favorite place on the planet, so I can't wait to be there. But this is the first time... ever... that I don't have an expiration date cutting off my lazing around the beach or at home. I can't wait to dive into books all day sitting on the deck of the bluff with my family, but that bliss will be somewhat tempered by its lack of foreseeable end.

I need to get used to the idea that I am now officially Unemployed and Job Hunting. I mean, I technically have been since graduation, but I've been busy as hell at this program. Last night was the goodbye party at Christopher Cerf's, Sesame Street composer. His house, on the Upper East, was predictably amazing, with winding staircases that went higher than the eye could see, gorgeous hardwood floors, bookshelves all the way up to the towering ceilings, and a beautiful private courtyard.

I just want to have a tiny little apartment of my own so that the city is officially my home. That is my goal and project as of right now until indefinitely. Souhaitez moi bonne chance!

Kathy Griffin on Lindsay Lohan & Catholics

2009-07-29T19:45:00.001-07:00

While I'm on the subject of TV, here's an amazing clip of Kathy Griffin... My mom made me watch this last time I was home (I think Kathy's imitation of her own foul-mouthed mother reminds my mom of my grandmother, because Debra was pretty much choking, she was laughing so hard), and really, I was cracking up, too.

Sometimes I feel like I don't share my sense of humor with many people (goofy voices, funny facial expressions and impressions and really good stories do it for me... not so much the sarcastic wit) but me and my mom, we've got it. It must be genetic. We have a great time mocking one another; when I repeat something she says in an overly nasal, obnoxious accent I can make her cry with laughter.

Anyway, I felt that it was only right to share this hilarious Kathy Griffin standup show. I hope it brightens your day as much as it did mine... Family anecdotes and celebrity ridiculing - what more could you ask for?

Edie Falco's Latest Role: Nurse Jackie

2009-07-29T19:15:00.001-07:00

I've been seeing these ads for Edie Falco's new show, Nurse Jackie, all over town. Apparently it premiered in June on Showtime. Missed that. I'm not a big TV watcher, but for one of my fave Sopranos characters (oh let's be honest, they're all my favorites), my interest was piqued enough to for a googling.

According to Wikipedia, Nurse Jackie is a "strong-willed, iconoclastic New York City nurse juggling the frenzied grind of an urban hospital and an equally challenging personal life... with an occasional weakness for Vicodin and Adderall to get through her days." Ha, love it! Other characters include Eddie, a pharmacist with whom Jackie is having an affair and her gay friend/co-worker, male nurse Mo-Mo. Jackie has two daughters, Grace and Fiona, and a bar-owner husband. So far so good. I may have to tell Mom to Tivo it.

Check out Edie in her previous, most excellent role as Carmela, Tony Soprano's endearing and uber-Catholic wife. She's always been a badass, and it sounds like she's been cast pretty perfectly as Nurse Jackie. Falco herself has admitted to problems with alcohol and the hard-partying Sopranos cast, having decided to get sober after "one particular night of debauchery" (Wiki again). Good luck, Edie... Looks like you'll be using your life experiences once again in your next role. I hope it's a hit. If it's half the quality of the Sopranos, I can't wait to watch.

Apartment Hunting Like Mad

2009-07-29T07:00:00.001-07:00

On a whim, Al and I checked out this website called Street Easy that his friend told him about, and ended up going to see two places yesterday. One was in Hell's Kitchen, and we didn't like it at all (not enough light); the second one I really liked - it was on the Upper East Side (not my very favorite neighborhood, but safe) on the first floor of a nice building on a pretty, tree-lined block. If you're looking for a place I highly recommend the site - just don't snag any of the good under $2000 one-bedrooms!

I've surprised myself at how much I care about what the block and the building look like. I want to find a cozy little gem in a quiet neighborhood between commercial streets near a subway. Red brick or brownstone, preferably no higher than the 4th floor. I'm not picky, right? But there are actually a fair amount of the kind of apartment I'm describing that are within our price range.

I, of course, got really over-excited about the second place and was ready to call our parents and talk them into being our guarantors, but Al, ever the voice of reason, talked some sense into me (though I was slightly sulky for a bit so we had to take a break and get some frozen yogurt and take a walk in Central Park). It was a nice day, even though we spent it running around, our feet killing us, from neighborhood to neighborhood via the subway. Not to mention that my mom sent me back to the Theory sample sale to buy her a few fall things, so we had to to the Lower West side first (ick, stressful and dirty).

We were both exhausted and passed out by midnight, though not before finding and making notes of at least seven new places we want to check out today (I'll be happy if we see four). That's why the posts have been sparser recently; I really need to make the most of my time here (I leave Furnald Hall and New York on Saturday for the Cape and Harvard, and I want to be back by September) while I've still got a roof over my head.

Okay, off to the races... Details and anecdotes later.

Food & Career Ruminations

2009-07-28T04:38:00.000-07:00

Alex is here visiting - he arrived yesterday evening. We didn't do much. He got here around 6:30; we went to dinner at this Thai place on Amsterdam where we've been before. The meal included this surprisingly good bottled beer that we both tried, called Singha. Try it. It's light, refreshing and zippy.

Speaking of zip, the spicy ("medium," we told the waitress) chicken pad thai we split had us both breaking a sweat, panting and chugging our drinks (beer is surprisingly good for cutting spicy tastes - I'm having an epiphany as to the legendary beer and wings combo). It was literally painful - but the noodle dish itself was so good! Great meat and veggie proportions and taste - but I could hardly enjoy it.

I should clarify: I consider myself a bona fide spicy food girl. Along with horror movies and the scariest roller coaster rides, I like to shake (or spice) things up. That's why I was shocked at my inability to handle our entree. And might explain why we didn't try two bites and call our waitress over ("You should have told me!" she exclaimed, after we'd both cleaned our plates, red-faced and sweating). Whoops.

I'd already had an incident yesterday afternoon, though, where I had to send a meal back. I've been eating very well lately - the Columbia cafeteria officially closed its access to us CPC-ers last Wednesday - which is great except that it requires me to plan and pay for my own meals.

We had a job fair yesterday morning, 9am-12pm, which consisted of two large rooms, one filled with book publishing house representatives, and the other with magazine people. I stuck to mags, for the sole reason that it more directly relates to website editorial, which is my ideal career (hence the recently begun blog). The truth is, as I told most of the people I chatted with, I could really see myself anywhere (Simon & Schuster, Harmony Books, Martha Stewart Magazine, New York Mag website, anything Conde Nast) as long as my job is in the editorial department. My top three life goals of the moment: 1. Living in New York 2. Writing and editing in some format (or helping someone else do it!) and 3. Getting paid - enough to keep me here, with a roof over my head and food in my tummy.

While this feels like work (blogging) just because of the time commitment it entails, it's fun for me. I adore the three main parts of this process, writing, editing, and design (color scheme, font choice, text and picture layout) - not to mention the independence it allows - I choose what I write about, and I'll be damned if I waste my time on anything I'm not interested in. Joe, from NY Mag, validated this notion - that bloggers really should write about their genuine thoughts, interests and beliefs.

Anyway, back to food.

After the job fair, Leah, Ali P., Katie Z., Emily T., Jordyn, Andi and Taylor and I had lunch on the street at a nearby cafe called Deluxe (I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but when I eat out, it's often there - food is solid, prices are doable - most meals are under $10). Their juicy cheeseburgers and crunchy fries are my weakness, so, my brain fried from the fair, I ordered one medium-rare without a second thought; so did Emily. Long story short, the meat was more bloody than juicy (ew - I'm sorry - unappetizing, I know - but it's true), and on first glance the waitress whisked them back to the kitchen and sent the manager running over, apologizing profusely "to the ladies who received the live burgers." Ha. They re-cooked them and all was fine. It was sufficient fuel to survive my very first sample sale which I attended immediately after - more on that later.

In other food news, Lissa, who just started her job as a Corporate Paralegal (as her sleek and sexy business card declares her title) last Monday, so we were able to spend a bunch of time together this weekend, including dinner Saturday night and Sunday brunch.

On Saturday she met me here on the Upper West and we took the 1 train downtown and then crossed to the East Village, where we met up with my friends at The Smith. I'd never been, and I have to say I loved the open-air atmosphere, and warm, energetic vibe. People weren't snobby, and neither was the menu ("Leah predicted you'd like this place," said Jordyn - she was right!). I started off with a half Mediterranean salad, which was - shockingly - almost authentically Greek, except for the lettuce. Lissa and I went abroad twice together during college, once for a semester in Dijon, France, and later to Athens, Greece, and these experiences come up often in our friendship. She sampled a bite and concurred that this was a rare incident of the successful Greek-imitation salad. Neither of us understand what's so hard to imitate; Real Greek salad (and may I say, the ideal version) literally consists of:

Big, diced chunks of fresh tomatoes

Sliced cucumber chunks

Crumbled feta cheese

Greek (Kalamata) olives

Sliced onions

Chopped bell peppers (I leave this out because I'm allergic to green peppers)

Tossed in olive oil, with salt, pepper and possibly oregano

For Saturday's main course, I had, at the urgings of my wise friends (especially Leah) The Smith's legendary mac & cheese "appetizer," which is much more than enough for one person, but is presumably meant to be shared as an app. Either way, I finished most of it, and it was creamy, comforting and delicious (none of those gross, crunchy bread crumbs or parmesan, just baked in the oven for a crispy top layer, all gooey and melty underneath)!

Sunday Brunch: Lissa and I ordered the same thing at this Italian street cafe a few blocks down from Furnald Hall on Broadway. It ended up being yummy, but the menu was so sparse on description, that we felt like anything we ordered was a crapshoot. We both got and liked the squash, goat cheese and parsely omelet (I'm a devoted American cheese girl when it comes to melting it in anything like eggs or sandwiches - but the goat cheese blended surprisingly well with the eggs and created a nice texture. It was good. It came with gourmet truffle fries, and for some reason, my wheat toast and OJ was free. I guess our waiter was a nice guy after all (at first we had him pegged as a snob).

John & Carolyn: 10 Years & 10 Days Ago Today

2009-07-26T05:42:00.000-07:00

Despite their 1999 death, John and Carolyn Kennedy remain America's darlings: Timeless cultural icons

Last week People published "An Intimate Look at JFK Jr. - An Enduring Friend," never-before-seen pictures of the Kennedys, our nation's royalty, who continue to attract unparalleled fascination and admiration even (or especially) after their tragic deaths. Pictures provided by John's close friend from Brown, Sasha Chermayeff.

A while ago, in the height of my John and Carolyn Kennedy preoccupation, I devoured the book American Son: A Portrait of John F. Kennedy Jr. by Richard Blow, who was at George Magazine at its start in 1995. While you can tell that Blow himself is a bit dry—and led a very separate life from the Kennedys—he worked with John for a long time, was present for a transformative time in his life, and Blow’s reflections and observations are actually quite poignant and compelling.

Blow became close with John (do you like how I call him by his first name? Kennedy tended to have that effect on people—America took his death deeply personally; he made strangers feel they knew him equally well) as George struggled in the mid to late nineties, before John's death (George didn't fold until 2 years later, in 2001). Blow was present when John’s relationship with Carolyn sparked and blossomed (my favorite part, naturally).

The book is memorable for its subject matter if not for its writing, but there are a few moments that stand out in my memory. One is Blow's description of John's exercise-dependent personality, and the way he would hop on his bike to evade paparazzi on the streets of New York after work or dinner. This I associate for some reason with John’s notorious adoration for his beloved Canaan dog, Friday, who would often come into the office with him. Details like these seem intrinsic to who John was, which is why I have such a faithful image of him in my mind as a sincere and unpretentious person.

Another part of the book that I've never forgotten chronicled a retreat that the George staff went on one weekend, to, I think, Vermont. Carolyn was there. Blow describes the way John was with her: Openly loving, and ever the initiator. Carolyn never made a show of their affection (indeed, she did the opposite, which is why there are so few and coveted public snapshots of the two together). Carolyn was a rumored follower of what was then a trendy relationship doctrine, a result of the 1995 sensation The Rules (whose authors still appear be flourishing in success, if the jazzy website is any indication). The book got a lot of anti-feminist flack, and trained women never to go to a man, but rather, always to let him come to her; in order to allow the natural male-female courting ritual to ensue.

Whatever Carolyn did worked—before long, John was infatuated with her. Although their relationship bred incessant media attention and gossip, and was rumored to be fraught with angst and drugs; the couple’s close friends consistently affirm that John and Carolyn were genuinely in love. No relationship is perfect, obviously, despite a pretty façade; especially one with the pressure of unsolicited and extreme fame. But they were both promising, down-to-earth and loving young people in their natural states. Unlike John, Carolyn was not accustomed to the media onslaught. It couldn’t be an easy adjustment to the entire fascinated, opinionated world suddenly knowing everything about her—not after her run-of-the-mill, normal girl’s adolescence.

They had their problems, but at the end of the day they had an intangible grace as a couple and as humans. They were so young, and just starting to figure out how they wanted to make their mark on the world. Carolyn was and is the fashion idol of many women; who knows where George would be today if John had lived. I can envision them being big Obama supporters—that is, if John himself hadn’t run for President. We might be living in an entirely different America had the Kennedy’s plane, piloted by John, not plummeted to the sea off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard on July 16, 1999 (just over ten years ago).

Sometimes it's so sad to imagine what might have been.

Since I became aware of who the Kennedys were, which I distinctly remember being after they'd died, while I was on Cape Cod with my family, I've been as obsessed as the rest of America, particularly with Carolyn - and her relationship with John.

She had such natural beauty (above is an old picture, published years ago).

John and Carolyn walking Friday, John's purebred Canaan dog

"All I Need is Good Blues on Vinyl, a Blunt, and Red Fairy Lighting."

2009-07-25T16:00:00.001-07:00

These blues feel good on my soul, and being high is understanding the truth hidden within the depths of our far too conscious minds. Whether idiotic or genius, our ideas and thoughts are truly ours and ours alone. These ideas are formed in the only honest world I have seen, and in the only truth I have felt. It is in this feeling that I realize the civilized world is far, far too barbaric for my honest, true and loving soul.

-Meagan Paxton (artiste and intellectual in-the-making)

How perfectly would this fit into the script of Into the Wild? Or I'm Not There? Two movies that are based on books written by or about true visionaries. I love that one of my friends is such a genuine Bohemian (more on that later).

Meagan is a great friend of mine since 11th grade, when we were both new students at Holderness and lived across the hall from each other in a cozy little dorm (called Phillips after our house parent, whom none of us liked - he had a bitchy wife and three creepy kids who could have been cast in The Ring).

But I digress. When Megs called me this morning and took me by surprise with her 703 (D.C.) area code, I was so happy. We only talk sporadically because she's been at school in upstate NY, while I was in Maine. Anyway, it was fabulous to catch up with her and when she read me that little gem aloud (something she wrote during a flashbulb moment of genius) I made her email it to me to ruminate over and then write about. She's going to introduce me to some friends of hers in the city who she says I'll love. Can't wait!

Off to dinner with Lissa, Leah, Jordyn, Emily and Ali. More on Meagan's brilliance later.

Does Rolling Stone Need New Writers?

2009-07-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows that the print industry is going through a difficult phase. One of transformation, if you will. But yesterday afternoon as I sat with Emily as she packed for Boston and Maine, reading Rolling Stone on her bed, I couldn't stop myself (nitpicky though I felt) from complaining to her about some just plain bad writing I saw.

Here's an example:

-"After bringing Borat to the screen in 2006 to mock the ignorant, racist, misogynist, gun-loving, warmongering heart of America, Sacha Baron Cohen returns with Bruno to mock the shallow, consumerist, attention-craving, celeb-worshipping, gay-fearing heart of American pop culture." (Bruno movie review, RS)

Okay, while it's true that America can on some level be criticized for all of these traits, I don't see how "gay-fearing" at all matches with the other political censure in Bruno, nor does it apply to "the heart of American pop culture." Let's be real here - gays have long since been not just inducted to, but embraced within mainstream American pop culture. It doesn't take a sociologist to figure this out: they are among our culture's most celebrated figures (Andy Warhol, Walt Whitman, Georgia O'Keefe, Annie Lennox, Elton John, Boy George, Ellen DeGeneres, even Ed Westwick - Gossip Girl's scheming, sexy Chuck - My friends and I are slightly obsessed). Point being that "gay-fearing" does still apply, of course, but it's really not so much the dominant perspective anymore. I'm not saying that applies to lesbians, because I think there still tends to be a "femme-nazi" stereotype, but I think the prevailing train of thought regarding gay guys is that they're the ones with the great hair and the great style, and every chick wants one as her best friend. Neither do I claim that this stereotype is true; I've met countless gays who don't fit and in fact directly oppose this description. But it's certainly a positive association, if not an accurate one.

One of the things people throughout this publishing course have been telling us is that "there's always room for more good people."

It seems that even this axiom might stretch the truth at this time, but it might benefit Rolling Stone not to forget it... While I would never say I could do a better job, as magazine writing goes and as a critical reader, I think RS can probably do a bit better than this.

**Disclaimer: I probably wasn't reading as carefully as I should have been, and a Mandy Moore article that I first thought was written clumsily and unclearly actually turned out to make sense on second read. I guess RS still has the basic quality cred it always has, despite its layoffs of some very reputable editors in the last year.

The Sublime Trifecta: Theory, Vince, and James Perse

2009-07-24T07:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my three favorite functional clothing designers came up several times in conversation.

In the afternoon the rain hadn't started yet, and I was wearing a white sheath dress (Standard James Perse, 100% cotton) underneath a long navy cardigan with gray trim, the old school preppy-looking kind (which originated with Vince, but was very well copied by Urban Outfitters - I was pretty bummed I spent the money when one can't even distinguish between them, but no matter). As we were waiting to flag down a cab, Taylor complimented me on my dress, and we were talking about how the two designers are something of a "breed," along with Theory.

Taylor has great taste, and I've been crushing on this great shrunken black Theory blazer she's been wearing all month. As two girls who are and will continue for some time to be financially frugal, we agreed that spending money on a couple classic business separates is key as we all start building our work wardrobes. This has always been my shopping M.O. (as my mom always groans whenever I tell her "But it's an investment piece!"). I just have never been able to bring any true enthusiasm to the low-quality trendy items like the ones you find at Forever 21. Don't get me wrong, here - I'm not a shopping snob. I love "Forever" (as Emily Temple and I joked it should really be called, since we'll obviously be long past 21 before we quit shopping there). It's cheap, thrifty, fun, and a massive collection. It beats Topshop, as far as I can tell.

But I don't go in there and get excited about something I can see myself loving and wearing to bare threads. Those are the kinds of clothes I get excited about. That's why my wardrobe mostly consists of soft, versatile cardigans, fitted skinny jeans, feminine tops and cozy sweaters. I know what I like, and I know what I actually wear (which is quite different, often, from what people buy when they shop). I know what I'll get use out of, and what is worth the splurge. For example, earlier this summer for my birthday my mom agreed to pay for a pair of linen black James Perse shorts . I can dress them up with heels for going out or even looking semi business-chic, or with flipflops and a T-shirt to slum it. Even though they're linen, I toss them in the machine all the time and hang them or throw them in the dryer if I need some shrinkage.

Quality, class and versatility are all essential if you're going to spend money on stuff and if you want to not only wear it, but love wearing it, for years to come (I promise this works). You also have to know your own taste. If I'm honest with myself, I know by looking at something whether I love it enough to keep it for years, or if I'll be sick of it within 2 months of use. If you don't have natural good taste or an eye for what looks good on you, buy the Lucky Shopping Manual. Liz yesterday was complaining that she literally just can't tell what will be good on her, so this would be perfect for her. It doesn't have anything to do with trends - all the advice is fundamental and basic, applicable to all ages and situations, financial incomes and personal styles. If you don't have the knack, you can learn it.

Ah, the Sweet Safety of the New York Nescac Fold

2009-07-24T05:47:00.000-07:00

Last night, despite the cold July rain, I forced myself (only because I'd prepaid $35 for open bar and admission) to attend a harbor cruise party that was for Nescac school post-grads.

This picture is pretty exactly what our view was, but with a gray, foggy sky and misting rain (which actually turned out to be refreshing, not miserable!) - and I'm not going to lie, it was fairly fabulous.

It wasn't just "the scene," which was essentially a copy of the crowd you'd see at Dorrian's after work or on weekend nights - 20-something yuppies fresh out of elite East Coast educations (when I call this "the scene" please take it with a grain of salt, I'm being quite literal here in my description; perhaps "the situation" would be more accurate). Normally I'd roll my eyes in boredom and a tinge of condescension, not wanting to fall into that category (although unfortunately I often due because of my Boston suburb childhood, New Hampshire boarding school adolescence and tiny liberal arts college education).

What was great was seeing friends, including Liz, Lissa, Stacy, Ben and several other Colby grads from older years, and getting re-acquainted. For example, I ran into a girl named Steph who lived in my dorm as a junior when I was a freshman, who I remembered always being nice at parties - and we were talking publishing (as always, of course) and she mentioned this other girl from her class who I vaguely remember (Lucy, who always had great style), who now works at Random House and may (cough cough) be leaving soon! She promised to hook me up.

As did Kalli, yesterday on IM, when she told me that the man she babysits for regularly during the summer is the publisher of the Harvard Business Review! God, let me get coffee with him! Not because I think a job there would be riveting (please - ew) but because I bet he has a heavenly set of connections and names that I would be salivating over.

But - back to the cruise. I spent most of the evening with Liz, my friend from New Jersey, who lives at home and makes $40k a year as the scholarship director for the NJ Golf Association (or something). I can't tell you how many times I've told her that I will be ecstatic to make $30k. I think she feels bad for me. Ha ha. We stood outside on the bow deck, starry-eyed, pointing out all the neighborhoods and buildings we recognized as we passed (we got super close to the Statue of Liberty! We were both as excited as Japanese tourists! - which is to be expected of me, but she lives right outside the city! It was funny).

We were both in really good moods, and talked philosophically but excitedly about life, careers, people, and being fulfilled in general. She'd run into an old high school acquaintance on the train ride in, a gay (but still closeted) and extremely interesting young guy who is starting a nonprofit for other young people who want to start non-profits. It sounds funny to me, too, but I bet it's actually a really smart idea. I guess he's in the process of lots of paperwork. I bet it takes a really long time to get it through. He was telling Liz about his time living in the Ukraine, and she said how she's worried that even though she's living a fairly satisfying life, it's not one of adventure, risk or passion.

Even though I'm going to be poor, I can't wait for my first exciting job, one that (despite the crappy assistant work) I will be so genuinely enthusiastic about that I won't care that I can't afford the food and clothes I wish I could! ...I hope.

Eisley, and My Inability to Turn Them Off

2009-07-24T05:17:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been doing a lot of yoga in my room with candles and music instead of going to the gym. Eisley, a band that I'm pretty sure I originally discovered on Pandora, has become a shoe-in for the lineup. I'm always a fan of catchy, indie-alternative pop rock like Peter, Bjorn and John, Rogue Wave and Neutral Milk Hotel.

Eisley has female vocals (the band was started by four siblings in Texas, the Duprees - 3 girls and a guy, and the girls all contribute to vocals which explains why I thought it was just one lead singer) and reminds me of other indie chick bands like Stars, The Blow and Broken Social Scene.

I guess some might categorize it as emo, but I think the lyrics are intriguing (the quotation that was previously at the top of this blog is from one of their songs, "Brightly Wound," which was another potential blog name - but was, alas, taken).

Anyway - check them out. They've earned a "Smart Playlist" (consisting exclusively Eisley) on my iTunes. I like their name (others in the running included The Towheads - they're all white blonde - and Neverland), the sisters' sweet, crooning vocals, and their pretty lyrics. My fave songs include their boppy, energetic "Vintage People," "Golly Sandra" and "Trolley Wood" (can't you tell they're cool just from the names?!).

Don't they look like fun?

Back to Basics: The Return of Cultural Wholesomeness

2009-07-22T08:14:00.000-07:00

Last night at the movies, I couldn't ignore what I'm beginning to see as a trend not just in mainstream movies but in our world in general: The re-emergence of goodness, classiness, quality, old-school standards and values... all exemplified during the PG-13 friendly array I witnessed before Harry Potter.

Here are some upcoming kids' movies that embody what I'm talking about:

- Where the Wild Things Are

The beloved children's picture book, transformed into what appears to be a whimsical, nostalgic film version.

- The Princess and the Frog

Disney's latest attempt to create a classic that adheres to the animated princess movie formula in the tradition of Cinderella, The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. As in, the movies you watched at least ten times each under the age of ten, and have seen God knows how many times since (Sleeping Beauty was and remains my favorite).

- Sherlock Holmes

Featuring a sexy Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock, Jude Law as Dr. Watson, and dewy-eyed Rachel McAdams playing Irene, Sherlock's love interest. A family-friendly "real people" movie that adults will enjoy.

- Shorts: Adventures of the Wishing Rock

A wish-granting rainbow-hued rock falls from the sky, changing everything for 11 year-old Toe Johnson. This wholesome, simple story will no doubt captivate kids who gravitate to imagination-friendly hits like James and the Giant Peach, A Series of Unfortunate Events and Hook, the central themes of which are the fantasy-based quests and adventures of kids.

I'm fascinated by the idea of getting back to our "fifties roots" (but hopefully a little less lame). It actually that came up while I was doing research for the book workshop a few weeks ago. I was writing the tip sheet for a book on Paul Rudd, called Stuck in a Rudd: Ramblings from Hollywood's Chronic Nice Guy (yes, I came up with the title, ha). While surfing to find out everything I could about the Rudd, I stumbled on this smart NYTimes article that articulates the phenomenon I'm referring to: "An outbreak of niceness across the cultural landscape - an attitude bubbling up in commercials, movies, and even, to a degree, the normally not-nice blogosphere."

"We are now in an age of nice," said Eric G. Wilson, an English professor at Wake Forest University, who, as the author of Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy, qualifies as a professional curmudgeon. But even Mr. Wilson sees no end of smiley faces. He cites as avatars of a new niceness the Obama Administration, which has been criticized for being too friendly to some repressive world leaders; advocates of political correctness who still hold sway in many forums; and the director-writer-producer [Judd] Apatow, whose era-defining comedies (Knocked Up, The 40-Year Old Virgin, among others) feature "nice guys who finish first - a great hope for non-threatening puerile males," Mr. Wilson said. ("Back by Popular Demand," New York Times 5/22/09)

It really is true... All of the above, not to mention examples like the overpowering green movement and the positive-thinking spiritual phenomenon (The Secret, The Power of Now). I won't lie, I don't mind a little happy infiltrating our all too negative culture. As long as it doesn't go overboard, it's better than boredom and cynicism. This new recipe could do our world some good.

The Inspiration of Other "Blogettes"

2009-07-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

By "blogettes", I don't mean mini-blogs. I mean bloggers who are stylish, intriguing, cool chicks.

Blogettes. I like it. I could be one.

Sorry - I'm a bit giddy at the moment.

It's so funny, I started yesterday and blogging already feels second nature. It truly is addicting.

This we had a blogger panel (perfect timing) where four successful young bloggers (a few of whom, I can't remember which, also went to the Columbia Publishing Course) came and told us about their experiences. It was so encouraging!

Two of the women in particular struck my interest. Jessica and Sadie are both blogettes: Jessica for NY Mag and Sadie for Gawker's Jezebel. I couldn't believe Sadie's story especially - it seems like such a dream come true: Her personal blog was discovered by editors at Gawker and now she has a regular gig. I'm so jealous. Not only that, I'm also inspired. It's amazing to see young women only a few years older than I am who are success stories, living my dream in every way...

My dream being: to live in a cozy, chic little apartment in New York, writing and editing and getting paid enough to live comfortably and be able to do the things I love: Drink Starbucks, go out to eat, read, write, think, occasionally buy a new piece of clothing... It sounds so simple yet heavenly. Don't get me wrong, I'm not anticipating this lifestyle until I've achieved some level of success. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to maintain who I am at my best - a girl who, despite being very social at moments, needs her space and time to herself. A girl who likes to stay in touch with close friends and family. A homebody. An intellectual of sorts and book and music junkie, with a weakness for great style, but not just the high-price label kind.

Sadie for example had such fabulous style. You could tell she's kinda quiet and laid-back, and she verified this fact later, saying a lot of bloggers are much more shy in person than they are in their writing. I loved hearing this - it's only natural! This struck a chord with me because I'm exactly like that. I never feel entirely comfortable unless I have enough time by myself to recoup and regroup. I attribute it to my dad's social anxiety, which made for an odd hybrid when mixed with my mom's uber-outgoing, open personality.

Anyway. The advice we got today, which sounds just right to me, is that you have to write about your genuine beliefs and thoughts on subjects that are of interest to people in general (or "your kind of people," at least). I'd like to think that some of the things I spend my energy thinking about are at least worth a dialogue to others, and if conversations I have with friends are any indication, then they are.

I find that I usually have something new or interesting to say on most topics that other people consider worthy of attention and discussion. I love this!

Ode to Friends

2009-07-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

This will be brief.

I just want to remember this night, this nothing-night. Nothing, as in Emily and I went to see a movie because we had the night off of lectures, and grabbed sandwiches for dinner after. Nothing special, exciting or very noteworthy. But.

I just feel lucky. In so many ways. How did a girl like me luck out like this? I have great parents, two cool younger brothers, and now, more and more with each day, great friends.

Al's the best thing I got out of senior year. I finally came to my senses and realized (as Alessa, predicted, even declared) that we really are meant to be, at least for right now we are. I love him so much. He's a best friend, if not the best friend. I don't even know if "the" best friend even exists - ha. Either way, I have an amazing boyfriend, and keep acquiring more true, worthy friends every day.

I'm a very lucky girl.

Hey Baby, Wanna Move In?

2009-07-21T13:27:00.000-07:00

Today Al and I decided that we are pretty serious about moving in together in September. It's not something I really saw myself doing immediately after graduation, but this recession isn't something I foresaw either. It could save us a ridiculous amount of money, and we'll probably want to spend most of our nights together anyway - we might as well at least have some privacy. Besides, we lived really well together senior year of college, when he essentially moved in with me and my five Main Street roommates.

The thing is, Al and I can be in the same room and have silence for a really long time, and it's fine. We like to do different things, but they're complimentary. Neither of us is a big TV watcher, and he has that quality for a guy where he isn't that into video games (or sports! Yay for me!). Also, we both really like to read and discuss similar things. Sometimes he jabbers on a bit, in which case I normally just tune out. No big deal. I'm sure he does the same when I start going on about my weight or my clothes. He listens when it comes to the important stuff, like friends and family, though. He's a great listener.

The other thing that would make him an excellent roommate is that he's a great cook. I know, right? How lucky am I? Considering that I only really know how to make my one "pasta specialty" dish. When I flew home last weekend because of these weird, freaky symptoms I had (which turned out to be an allergic reaction to an antibiotic) I was talking to my mom in the car on the way to visit my grandmother and she said "Well, what about when you two just feel like having space from each other? Won't you miss living with girls and then having him there when you want?"

My answer: I don't think so. At least not at this point. I've been telling my friends this - maybe I'm being naive or optimistic, but I'd really rather spend of my time with Al, and have our nights built in together, especially since when we both get real jobs because we'll probably be really busy. I think I'd sooner get sick of one or two girls than I would my boyfriend. Plus, we know all each others habits and mannerisms, and I'm not afraid to be honest and tell him when I'm in a bitchy mood.

We'll see what happens. It's one option of many- one also being me living on my own, something I think I could really take to, especially in a city full of people. It's not like I'd get lonely. I think the only mandatory trait is that the neighborhood is safe. I think my mom would definitely reinforce that. Paying for it might be another thing, though.

"A Very Promising Medium"

2009-07-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

Wow, I'm proud of myself.

I was sitting there in the lecture hall, listening to Brandon Holley from Yahoo, Cyndi Stivers from Entertainment Weekly, and Jeff Bercovici from AOL discuss the prospects for online publications; and I decided that it's high time I stop sitting on the sidelines, secretly loving reading friends' and stranger stylistas' blogs, and finally just create one myself.

Although technically I've "decided" to do this very thing many times before, this time I actually did! Yay for me.

Gotta run, I'm late for lunch with Leah.