Emma & Jenn
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
With the time change and 10 hour flight, I feel like a day has been stolen from me, but also so incredibly tired I can barely think straight.
The plane I flew in on was populated with some of the prettiest/most stylish people I've ever seen at 30,000 feet. It was long, but great. I will forever recommend Virgin Atlantic for international flights, if possible. Even the flight attendants were pretty (both male and female). And let me not forget ... one of the was named "Rad". No joke, his name was RAD! Unfortunately, I couldn't find my camera in enough time to snap a proper photo of his name tag. The in-flight entertainment was absolutely stellar. Movies I watched included, "The Soloist", "The Boat That Rocked" (a.k.a. "Pirate Radio" for us America types), and "The Hangover". They had somehting like 55 movies to choose from, and most of them were awesome! I also played some serious sudoku, but that's another addiction for another day.
When I arrived in Heathrow, things went quite smoothly. I didn't realize how accurate "Love Actually" is!!! There were throngs of people crowding the arrivals gate. I felt like Moses walking out of there ... and then couldn't find my aunt. HAH! So really, more than "Love Actually", as per usual, it turned out more like "Bridget Jones", a comedy of errors, and the two of us passing each other (more than once).
Emma's house is quite adorable. A little cottage home, perfect for a single person or couple. I love it! She demands it's too small, but I strongly disagree. I think it's wonderful. I'll try to post some pictures (hopefully tomorrow), but tonight I am just too sleepy. Hopefully I will wake up with renewed energy to take on a sunday pub extravaganza. Emma's dog, Meg, is the kookiest cutest mix of creatures I may have ever seen. She seems like she should be in a movie or something. Like she's the outcast dog that nobody likes and then she wins everyone over with her undeniable charm. Much like Rudolph. Again, pictures tomorrow.
She made me soup (potato leek) for lunch and shepherd's pie for dinner. SO GOOD!!! I love the homemade comfort-y goodness and we've been chatting for hours! Watching television here gives me hope though. They actually spotlight real looking people. Rather than waifs with boob jobs, there are real men and women, with real bodies, doing real-people things. It's a nice change! Now that's change I can believe in.
So today, was kind of a catch-up day, tomorrow ... let the games begin.
Monday, November 23, 2009
They say the definition of crazy is to repeat the same behavior over and over, expecting a different result. I try to remember this on a fairly regular basis, because I tend to be a creature of habit. I think most people are. The reason I type this though, isn't because of me, it's because of what I have recently noticed others doing. Too often I hear from friends who are "shocked, shocked I tell you," when they repeat behavior that has once burned them and they end up getting the same unwanted result. This seems ... counter-productive, counter-intuitive, and in some cases just flat-out dumb!
I think this translates into inter-personal/conversational behavior as well.
I know a number of people who dumb-down their conversations just to get through a night. It goes a number of ways. You might dumb-down your conversation because you think that's what people want to hear. You might think it makes you really attractive and "cute"/"hot" to be dumb as a bag of hammers! You might be forced to dumb-down your conversation so you don't have to end up in a bar-fight, or you might have to do it just to maintain a flowing conversation because your conversational counterpart can't keep up. And the list goes on, but the list isn't the point ... the point is this ... if you find yourself regularly in these situations, do you think it might be a good idea to rethink the people you've been chatting up?
Maybe the venue has changed, but if the conversations are remaining the same aren't you just talking to the same person occupying a different vessel? And clearly ... if you do this over and over again, the conversation isn't so satisfying.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I'm doing it! In 6 days, I leave for the UK. I can't believe it's finally here, and suddenly ... I'm riddled with butterflies. HAH! I am so excited, and yet so reluctant to say good bye to my everyday life. What the heck? I guess I've just been really lucky and have had the good fortune to make friends with some truly wonderful people, and leaving them makes me sad. It's not like they won't be here when I get back or anything. I just wish I could pack them in my suitcases and unleash them on foreign soil alongside me.
I've been reading:
So yeah, did I mention I'll be heading to Paris as well? Amazing. I just feel so incredibly full of luck and joy that I am able to do this. It's a little overwhelming.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Why is it that pretty much every time I've ever come across some form of relationship commentary or advice, whether it be written/spoken by a man or woman, the advice comes from a place of what it is the man in the relationship wants? I suppose the easy answer would be that the ladies are the ones writing in for the advice, or the ones who seem to reach out for help in such situations. But is that really the kind of advice we want? Ladies, we have GOT to stop allowing this to be such a one-sided adventure. Why are we the ones expected to alter, or play his game, or alter our game to fit his? Is it so hard to find the absurdity in that? Why shouldn't he be the one altering his ways for you? Actually, scratch that, because really ... that's equally stupid.
And this thought, spawns another ...
Be it boy or girl, you're doomed to a life of self-imprisonment if you don't get out in the world and behave the way you want to, simply because it pleases you. I say, enjoy your life. Enjoy yourself. Live life to whatever your version of its fullest might be. Love with the heat of a thousand white hot suns (or don't).
Pause, I don't mean that to sound as hedonistic as it comes off.
Common sense would have to dictate ... don't abuse people, don't take people for granted. Don't be selfish or slimy. That's just bad manners. The people who love you, and are there for you, and are wonderful to you simply because you're who you are (i.e. your friends and family) are the people who will be there when you've got snot flying out your nose and can't contain your bowel movements. Yeah, it's gonna happen one day I'm sure.
When it comes to the people who we actually get to choose to share our lives with (good and bad), wouldn't you rather have it be someone who's choosing you (this goes for who you choose as well) because what you are at your core is so undeniably magnetic? Not because you put on a good show and let them see what you wanted them to, but because YOU are irresistible?
I don't know, maybe I'm crazy???
I've just seen far too many couples self-destruct like a letter to Inspector Gadget, because one or both of the parties involved presented themselves as something ... other. If the parties involved don't fit, it's much better to know right away than it is to prolong the inevitable.
Hello divorce rate? Hello broken homes and families?
Maybe I just romanticize romance???
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Mark Twain
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I was just completely floored by "This is it". Michael Jackson was undoubtedly an icon. But I think he's an icon in more than one way. Not only is he an icon of artistic genius, but he's an icon of pretty much everything that is wrong with our hyper-infatuated celebrity-stalking culture. It's highly unlikely that he even knew how to brew a pot of coffee. All he's known since childhood, is music, and stardom, and pain, and medication. He was clearly an incredibly loving and caring human being, with talent oozing from his every orifice (and probably some places that couldn't even be classified as an orifice), but there is something entirely disturbing about the emptiness evident in his eyes. It's undeniably clear that his whole life was spent looking for love, or at least whatever he thought love was.
"This is It", is an incredible exhibition of his vocal and dancing skill, his infinite patience, and his calculating perfectionist eye for production on a scale unseen. It is also however an exhibition of a man who has been used as a vessel for others pleasure that was never fully reciprocated. He is essentially, the worlds most revered rape victim! And as odd as it may sound, those revering him are among the guilty.
I was skeptical when I walked into the theatre, but I am SO GLAD I did. I walked out having rediscovered my respect for his unwavering professionalism and talent, and crystalizing my belief that he was one of the most tragic beings to ever grace this planet. We are all better having been treated to the likes of him.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Monday afternoon, one of the parents who likes to visit with me told me a great story.
Apparently he believes that every kind deed a person does is revisited upon them. I like it. I can get behind that. So he was telling me how he and his son used to always see this little old lady walking around Laguna in a somewhat suspicious manner, so they started to kind of follow her around and attempt to observe what exactly she was up to. Creepy so far? I thought so too. "Hello sir, you're teaching your kid to be a stalker. Awesome!" But in my infinite kindness, I allowed him to continue. ;)
He went on to explain that she was going around to all the different coin return slots in the area checking for any change that might have been left behind. He apparently also frequents a gym in this area. He would see the same old lady every time when he was in the gym looking out onto the street. Finally, he decided he was going to grab all the change he could find just laying around the house and in his car, map out her coin-collecting route, and plant the spare change he had in the coin return slots before she got there. He told his son about the plan and every week (at least once, oftentimes more) they go out and plant money for this little lady to rifle through. They then go to the gym and watch her as her face lights up with joy everytime she comes across a sweet little coin-laden treasure.
I'm not a big fan of handing out money to people on the street. A sammich? Sure. But money? Not-So-Much. For some reason though, this case ... well, it warmed the cockles of my heart.
Do hearts really have cockles?