28 May 2007

Meatmorial Day

Memorial Day Weekend was nice. Somewhat lackluster, but nice. MeIlow is good sometimes. We had more grilled meat than any family should on any given day. Buffalo burgers were included- along with a helping of potato salad and guilt. My ancestors, the mighty Choctaw, are shaking their heads.

(Please note, I am not actually Choctaw... but I am, in fact, part Cherokee... and a fan of For Your Consideration, wherein, John Michael Higgins' character calls attention to his Native American ancestry to the point of exploitation and immense awkwardness, seeing as how he is, quite possibly, whiter than me. And the way he enunciates "Choctaw?" Fantastic movie.)

Yesterday, my dad and I went to a plant nursery and found this amazing rose called a Don Juan. Hable de sexy plant? Si. It smells like an Italian pastry shop on a Swiss mountaintop surrounded by... roses. Aka, it smells fantastic. My rents picked one up for me today and I transplanted it to a pretty little pot on my back steps. I have one of the flowers in an Orangina bottle on my desk right now... and I smell it compulsively. I think I've smelled it at least three times since starting this entry. If I could post smells, I would. But perhaps, Man is not ready for such technology.

26 May 2007

Federico Fellini wrote it, Marcello Mastroianni said it, and I mean it.

"Non ho propriamente da dire... ma voglio dir loro stesso..." That is, I have nothing to say, but I want to say it all the same.

We all want to be heard, don't we? Even if it does mean shouting into the bottomless chasm that is the internet.

I'm going to try to be regular about my posting and I'm also going to make an assumption that the only people reading this are people I already know, so I'll just hit the ground running.

The latest concerning my possible au pair trip to Turkey: the family located in Cesme has politely (though perhaps temporarily), declined my offer. I haven't heard from the other family, located in Istanbul. But it's looking less and less likely that this will actually happen, making this the third failed attempt at going to Turkey. With the rising violence, iffy political situation, and smaller paycheck than I'd previously believed, my enthusiasm has started to wane; and frankly, it may be for the best, even though I do believe I'd be coming back in one piece.

But the lack of a job abroad means finding one here- soon. The market is rough, to say the least, and has been for quite some time. I do everything by the book (cover letters, follow-up, all that jazz), and don't get so much as the time of day from anyone. I've spoken with people in three other fields in three other states, and they've encountered the same. We're ending up with a country full of college-educated baristas and jean-folders at the Gap, complete with student loans and a lack of health insurance. I realize that everyone has to start at the bottom, but I wouldn't at least mind starting at the bottom in a field that vaguely resembles mine. It's quite frustrating.

Not to be a naysayer, but we're a generation bound for premature balding, late retirement, a healthy heaping of debt and ulcers. Oy.

While I'm entirely aware that moving (either domestically or abroad), wouldn't solve or disappear my problems, there would be a certain "mulligan" aspect to it. A do-over or fresh start. This doesn't mean entirely disconnecting the past or connections, but going somewhere where people don't have the inherited right of having expectations for you; there's a certain psychological freedom that I wouldn't mind having.

I want Green Lightning and a Florentine stationary store with my favorite Bufas. I want a pet goat and a flippin' hut on the New Zealand coast, where I'll keep my canvases. I want a darkroom in Berlin where I'll develop my prints from a stint in Peru. I want a pastry shop in Paris, a cafe in Barcelona, a lounge in Stockholm. I want a house in Cork and a houseboat in Amsterdam. I want an artists' commune on Corsica and a lodge in Oslo. I want an old-fashioned typewriter in my casa in on Crete and a learn to play the piano in my apartment in Zurich.

...But really, I'll take any variation of any of the above. Is that so much to ask? (And I want a boyfriend with an accent and good hair.) Is it a tall order or is that just short-sighted?