Dauntless & Dainty

     Stepping out into the powerful sunlight forces my eyes shut.  My neck strains downward as the sun bounces off of the loose blonde bun secured at the nape of my neck.  My hand eeks its way into a weak surrender over my eyes, refusing to expose my fair, freckled skin to the sun even though it had already been slightly rouged from a previous summer adventure.  You would think this ebullient sun and these cloudless skies every day would coincide with mental clarity.  As I glance to my right, hand sternly placed on my brow, I notice that the street is empty.  This seems like the right time to start walking.  I jerk my leg to the right, taking a hefty step to start my meandering.  Hoping the August sun will bake away all of my melancholy thoughts, I take slow steps.  The only weight I feel is the heaviness of my own breath.  All I hear is the clicking of my heels against the brick sidewalk.  My eyes glaze over in a trance, staring into the white heat of the sun-drenched path.  My destination is meaningless, the meditative walking should soothe my aching soul.  A solid four blocks pass by, in a blur of brick footpaths and intersections when suddenly I am struck by the sour sound of my name.  It is not shouted, but simply stated in a calm, soothing tone.  This tone is appallingly familiar and it rips through my ears and pounds in my skull.  You ask how everything has been.  You ask why I'm so dressed up.  I fail to answer you, my eyes transfixed on your sunglasses.  In a forced squint, I am able to see my reflection.  My bangs swept across my face, my painted lips, my jet-black eyelashes; I cannot remember dolling myself up.  As you stare at me, awaiting a response, I stare down and notice the crisp, bright red dress hugging my body.  This dress looks unfamiliar, a nauseating feeling takes hold of me.  I look back up at you, and you ask if everything is ok.  Nodding, I smile and feel my right leg take a small step, then my left, until I am several feet away.  I whip my head around, and stare into the white hot summer yet again.

     Smile pasted on my face, my steps grow stronger, more forceful.  I can hear my footsteps for what seems like hours until eventually my feet seem to be hitting dirt and rocks.  Looking in several directions, I realize I have reached the river.  The weather is fair, but the area surrounding the river is empty.  The large, flat rocks usually plagued with joyful people are bare.  As I run my hands through my bangs, I grab the band securing my bun and rip it out of my hair.  I walk tenderly upon a flat rock kicking my heels off into the running water.  Pulling my dress off over my head, I rush into the river.  Enveloping my body in the cool water is the warmest embrace I have ever experienced.  Submerging my head, I let my hair float wildly around my face.  Eventually I allow my head to break the surface.  Staring at the riverbed I noticed a group of people standing on the rock where my dress lay.  I glanced left, then right and noticed people in both directions, on the riverbed, as far as the eye could see.

Disclaimer: this is fiction.

Rambunctious Rambling.

Summer is not my season.  Just stepping outside turns me into a quivering pile of goo on the scorching sidewalk.  I yearn for the autumn months, for the wool sweaters and falling leaves.  I long for chilly nights and wearing knee-high socks, skirts, and letting my wavy strawberry locks whip lovingly across my face in an autumnal gust.  For now, I will sit in my apartment and sing/dance to almost every song on my ipod.  Of course, it's Shark Week so it's hard to be yearning for much more than a comfy couch and a show about which bait is preferred by the Bull Shark (the shark responsible for the most human deaths).

Most of my pictures from my Sicily trip have been uploaded onto my Flickr account, so feel free to peruse.  I am taking the original film pictures and compiling them into some hand-decorated Moleskine albums.

My 21st birthday is in a month and I must devise a plan for celebration.  I haven't really celebrated my birthday in a few years so I'm thinking this should be a good one.  I want to have a party at my new place but my roommate is against it, so perhaps I can convince a friend to throw me one.

Speaking of birthdays, a mighty happy birthday to Stephen R. Horton.  His fatherly teachings have given me so much over these two decades.  I'll never forget when we had our first game of catch, or when we would shave our stubbly faces side by side at the bathroom sink every morning, while I strained on my tiptoes just to see my entire cherubic face in the mirror.  If it weren't for him, I wouldn't know how to talk to girls or tie my tie every morning, thanks dad.

Inconveniently Lenient.

A tad angsty, a bit overwhelmed, and completely bitter, these last few days have placed me in a bit of a funk.  Luckily, I'm good at pulling myself out of such funks in a semi-timely manner and my sage-like mind is in a state of constant meditation repeating the phrase "this too shall pass".  Melodramatic? Perhaps, but life without melodrama would be utterly one-dimensional.  Some one has to be the responsible thespian.  Not only is the wise part of my brain attempting to keep me sane, but I have found valid distractions from the ever-growing pessimistic beast that dwells within me and threatens the kindly part of my disposition:

Exhibit A) my new sewing corner is set up and with that basket bursting forth a variety of both new and used fabrics, my project board is sure to fill up quickly.

Exhibit B) I have joined the Virginia Production Alliance which shall provide a gaggle of vital networking opportunities to aid me in my film production future (well, here's hoping).

Exhibit C)  I have switched back to being completely vegan.  Summer is a fairly gnarly time to be consuming dairy products anyway.

Lately I've been thinking what it would be like to say everything you want to say to whomever, whenever.  There are people who claim to lack a "filter"-they claim they say what they want, when they want.  I have yet to meet someone who doesn't do this as a means of attacking another/over-compensating for their self-esteem issues.  I do not care to attack anyone, I don't want to break other people, my confidence needn't be boosted.  I simply despise tiptoeing around the truth.  I just want to be frank with people but my meek nature prevents me from doing so.  It is essential that I find a way to assert myself without sounding nosy/rude/aggressive.  This fine balance shall be achieved in due time.  Meanwhile, I need to work up the nerve to say some much-needed truths to some deserving folks.

This being the last day of July, I think I need to pay homage to the month.  I expected it to be a soothing 31 days filled with nothing but Netflix streaming and furniture re-arranging.  Mind you-it was, but I still managed to go slightly bananas.  That being said, here you go.

Peeks, Peaks, and Valleys

The light softly filtering through the alleyway outside of my bedroom window informs me of the breaking day.  My days and nights, mornings and evenings, dusks and dawns, afternoons and midnights have been running together.  It's like I'm experiencing some existential summer mash-up.  I think the heat is playing a large role in my foggy delirium, these triple digits are obliterating my brain cells.  I am just grateful that the "big" move is over.  Like early man, I have changed locations to better suit my needs (if my needs include a shorter commute to school and better coffee houses).  My fairly bare room is playing into my barely there state of mind.  

 My window kind of faces a brick wall, but it is a very interesting brick wall.

 If you're wondering what that is on my desk, it's a promo poster for the new film Beginners.

I'm not going to hide my trash from you good people. 

I have big plans for this apartment: bookshelves constructed from discarded dresser drawers, knitted light installments, a sewing corner, a craft chest, a hallway devoted entirely to movie posters- everything from "The Seventh Seal" to "Clueless"-, and a room divider made entirely out of beer cans, just to name a few.  As I putter around this empty, spacious apartment by myself, the possibilities overwhelm me.  Since I cannot salvage recyclables in this heat and I have no money for supplies, I have spent most of my days here sleeping in, working on my résumé, dancing to some folksy tunes, and watching episode after episode of Battlestar Galactica.  

Now if you'll excuse me, the coffee shop Crossroads across the street from my apartment opens in 5 minutes and they serve up a mean tofu scramble burrito.  Happy Sunday.

The Sicily Saga.

Today has been thoroughly unproductive in the conventional sense.  I still have a massive amount of packing to complete, but I did knock another film off my Netflix instant queue (even though I'm still mad at those price-hiking fools, Netflix streaming now runs in my veins and I just.can't.stop)  I polished off the David Lynch classic Blue Velvet.  I have seen many odd films in my day, so I was somewhat desensitized to the surrealist nature of the film, but I was still enthralled and amazed.  Framing the traditional suburban neighborhood as a dystopia was a brilliant move on Lynch's part.  Dennis Hopper's character was unforgettable and utterly frightening.  His performance was tortured and psychotic, and he expelled many quotable lines throughout the film.  I know this gem had me laughing: 

"HEINEKEN?! FUCK THAT SHIT-PABST BLUE RIBBON!" 

Well I wanted to tell you a few things about my Sicily trip I returned from recently.  This trip was an amazing experience.  I was only able to go on the trip because my university (Virginia Commonwealth University) paid for it.  I will forever be grateful for the scholarship and grant they bestowed upon me because money has been sparse in my household for quite some time and I didn't think a study abroad program was even possible.  When my film professor announced a chance to study Mediterranean film in Sicily, I mean, how could I refuse?  Not knowing Italian was a bit of problem over there, but I managed (mostly with help from my friend Kate who could actually speak in sentences and not clumsily gargled words).  I was with a varied group of students from VCU (mostly film majors which is different from the cinema major here) but I consider myself lucky because this particular group was wonderful.  They are all such friendly, funny, and interesting folks.  They actually made me feel likable and much less curmudgeonly.  This trip has too many details and emotions folded into it to describe on a blog.  It did, however, inspire me to write short stories and poems which I will share when the time is right.

 This is the interior of a cathedral in Palermo, Sicily.  I love the way Jesus draws me toward him with those golden hues.

 This black sand was at a beach at the foot of the volcano, Stromboli, in the Aeolian Isles.

 This was taken near the open-air market in Palermo, Sicily.

I thought we were cool, Netflix.

I received a distressing e-mail from Netflix earlier today.  This e-mail explained to me that if I want to pay $7.99 a month, I will have to choose between unlimited streaming/one DVD at a time. Come on, Netflix....COME ON!  In order to keep one DVD at a time plus streaming, its $15.98.  That's quite a hike from the $9.99 I pay monthly.  Should I take the financial hit or choose between the two?  Getting DVDs in the mail is joyous.  Seeing those bright red envelopes peeking out of my mailbox warms my heart.  However, I depend on streaming these days for my film classes.  This is like Sophie's Choice.  Wait, I've never actually seen that, I wonder if it's available for streaming.................damnit.


Well, I want to share that I recently went to Sicily with a VCU film study abroad program.  I shall go into dirty details later, but right now, I just want to show some pictures:

These were all shot on my Canon Rebel EOS 2000.

Movin' on up.

I am experiencing perpetual angst and frustration.  The emotions that go along with moving are not enjoyable by any means.  I am moving a couple of minutes away from my current apartment.  My new place is large and right next to campus, but it is a bit pricey.  However, since it is the heart of the "fan" district in Richmond I will be close to several great coffee houses/markets.  I cannot wait to move there, but perhaps I can give you a glimpse into my current distress:

My closet is vomiting vast amounts of clothing and accessories.  So much so, that I have lost track of the boxes, which I need in order to pack.  The next few days are not going to be pretty.  

On a less aggravating note: I did see the movie "Midnight in Paris" tonight.  It was oh-so-charming with that zesty hint of classic Woody Allen neurosis.  It was a bit heavy handed at times, especially when it came to explaining the dangers of nostalgia (with which I completely agree), but the tender way Allen frames a lovely city like Paris-it's worth the price of admission.