Lying to Bank Tellers

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I find talking to bank tellers excruciatingly awkward. Especially when you are going to college and all of the tellers are-- you guessed it, cute guys, also going to college. And I swear, these bank tellers take a long time. 

"So what are you doing this week?"

"Er... Finals." ...Isn't that what everyone is doing?

"So you're a student, then?"  No, I'm a professor. No, I'm a mom with eight kids. No, I'm an alien. 

"Yes."

"Awesome. How many finals do you have left?"

"One."

"Oh, awesome. What are you going to do to celebrate?"

"Go home. And enjoy Christmas." Read: Go home, get out of your company, and eat cookies.

"Great. Where's home?"

And here I must explain: This is where I lied to the bank teller. I did not want to explain to him that I live in town. Plus I'm going to Disneyland over break. And I was dead tired. Ok, enough excuses. I felt sassy and it spilled out before I could do anything. I stood there flailing in the face of the word that escaped my mouth.

"California."

"Wow, really? What part?"

*Cough* "Northern. San Jose."

"Oh. I'm from San Diego."

"Really?"

"So did you open up your account there or here?" 

Uh, yes. That's what he said. And as he said it... he smiled. Wryly. What a log of poop. He knows I lied. And he is staring at me like I lied... to flirt. And anyone who knows me... knows I don't flirt. Especially not with random bank tellers. I probably looked like I could spit venom, so he shut up quick, and gave me a receipt.

"Have a good day!"

Yeah, whatever. I probably won't be going to the bank for a while. 

Rainy Days and Mondays

Sometimes I feel numb. The world comes crashing down on me-- everywhere I turn, something is demanding me to perform. It builds and builds, as imperial and intimidating as a black glass office building, until I can't handle it anymore. In desperation I brake the glass, and the world as I know it crashes and splinters and then melts. For a moment I wallow in the puddle, afraid of the emptiness I now face. I feel pathetic in the face of the world, because I am not moving.

We live in a world of "Going." Sleep, eat, work, play, eat, sleep...  We run from one thing to the next, barely allowing ourselves to think. If we do end up having a moment, we anxiously fill the gap with texting or television or Angry Birds or complaining about the waste of time.

But is it really wasted? Somedays I think "I could be so much happier if I could just stay in my pajamas, sit on the couch with a mug of tea, and watch the rain."

I think it's sad that at times that is my dearest desire-- to be left alone to think, away from the prying eyes that, tooled with their expectations, rip and tear at my sense of self.

There is such beauty in every day life, but most of the time we fill it to overflowing, and don't allow ourselves time to appreciate it.

A smile. A laugh. A tear.
The steam off a good dinner. The lost feeling when we read.
The sun streaming through the window after sleeping in.
The smell of our favorite book.
Holding someone we love.

As we approach Thanksgiving, maybe we should all try to slow down. Take a deep breath-- and just enjoy that we are breathing.

(... ok that was so "special.")

Is It Really Wasting Time If It Includes Chocolate?

So, I was wasting time the other day, like I normally do when I've hit the "I've been working all day and then I did homework for three hours and my brain is in a puddle on the floor" point, and I came upon this:

MELT Chocolate Boutique in Notting Hill, London
The hot chocolate here is served in tiny cups-- shot glasses. It's supposed to be very rich and dark and you can buy blocks-- yes, blocks -- to take home and melt in a cup of warm milk. There are seven different blocks to try, most of which are single origin. They describe their hot chocolate as having a "sensuous and sticky texture.

DUDE.
THIS. IS. PERFECTION.
Someone whisk me away to London, please.

MELT hot chocolate blocks.

A Beautiful Mess

Life is so confusing, so full of hypocrisy. One moment I can be saying to myself "Why does that kid even open his mouth if he's going to make such stupid comments?" and the next I am wishing people would just shut up and give me a chance to say what I have to say. We say "Don't judge!" and then turn the other way and judge someone for judging.

The reality is that life is such a mess. Everyone tries to make themselves secure and comfortable by attaching systems, tests, and judgements to any situation. They like the certainty of math and the practicality of science and the hard and fast (but constantly broken) rules of the English language. They pretend the economic crisis can be solved by something as simple as "Spend more!" or  "Spend less!". We like organization and predictable outcomes, and revel in the grid we attempt to apply to life.

And then someone, or something, breaks that grid. There is a circle amid our squares, and we gasp and gape and try to make corners by practicing criticism and general cretinous behavior. Eventually this wave subsides when we tell ourselves it's just a differing opinion, or perhaps we'll add a square to our grid for something like "Jazz" or "Ron Paul/Barack Obama" or "Hipsters."And life is good again-- organized and as tight as Botox gone wrong.

But if we think about it, this really goes against nature. While it is true that there are general rules, it is the abnormalities that consume our curiosity. Things we don't see every day are the images we stick on calendars with inspirational quotes. From an avalanche to the unsymmetrical daisy, these are the things that make us love life.

Don't you remember that character that you just couldn't get enough of? They were flawed and awkward or perhaps had a tick you couldn't stand, but you kept going back to them just to see what they would do next, to see if you could figure them out? Remember that flavor in that dish you had that you just couldn't get enough of, no matter how much you ate? Remember that song you listened to twenty times in a row, but just couldn't put words to the emotion it was communicating? Remember the play you watched that made you want to cry with frustration and pure joy? Remember the day you realized it didn't matter if that one person was flawed, because you could never stop loving them?

 These are the irregularities and the differences that make life what it is-- a mess. And yet, isn't it the mess that makes it beautiful?

 

Things that shouldn't exist, and yet do.

I want to vent far too often, most likely because I am a rather irritable person. So here's this week's vent:


5. Meetings in online classes. 
I mean DUDE, what's the deal?! It's an online class. The whole point is that you don't have to GO to class. Besides, the meetings usually just end up being pure chaos, and the teacher just ignores the discussion of current sitcoms and rambles over it all. My solution? To "listen" and do laundry at the same time.

4. Cravings For Unhealthy Foods.
And by this I don't mean chocolate cravings. I believe in chocolate's rejuvenating strength-- so if you need some, you NEED some. No, I mean stupid cravings. Like the other day I wanted some fries from Wendy's. I never eat fast food, but there you have it. So that day I happened to get in a time crunch for lunch and stopped at Wendy's. It. Was. Disgusting. And expensive. Fries and fake meat just aren't worth that much. Plus I felt ill afterward. Such a nuisance.

3. Traffic Lights That Are On Rotations
I can't tell you how often I am driving to work (often around 5 in the morning), and I have to stop and wait for some phantom car that take five minutes to get across the intersection. Please. Sensor lights make WAY more sense.

2. Automatic Answers on the Telephone
I already hate making phone calls. But when you have to push buttons and talk to robots for fifteen minutes before you actually make contact with a human being?! Yeah, good luck with that.

1. Chunks in Things That Should Not Have Chunks.
Like in Peanut Butter. Or fruit shakes. Or pudding. Or Oatmeal. Or Liquid Soap. Or a Glass of Water. Or... you get the idea.

Yes, but you're a surrealist! I'm a normal guy!

In all honesty, I'm really too young to know much about Woody Allen. So, when the movie Midnight in Paris came out earlier this year, all I knew was that from the title it sounded like another brainless, sex-filled, badly made romantic comedy. Lucky enough for me I heard from a source I trust that it was amazing, and so I mosied on over to IMDB and checked it out.

Woody Allen (I've heard of him...), looks like an artsy film. Could be interesting. Character list: Gil, Inez.... F. SCOTT FITZGERALD?! 

Needless to say, I was immediately enamored with the movie from that point on, and was very glad when it finally started showing in my town. After several failed attempts I saw it with a friend at a 10:55 PM showing. 

The next night I went and saw it again.

Gil Pender (Owen Wilson) is a hack screenwriter turned novelist who is visiting Paris with his undeniably nasty fiancé, Inez (Rachel Mccadams), and her unpleasant and uptight parents. Gil is taken with the city and dreams of the life of the Lost Generation, much to the annoyance of his fiancé. Eventually the magic midnight hour comes and Gil gets to experience this time for himself.


 Admittedly, the film is not amazingly profound nor the best film I've seen. But it has a charm that in undeniable. This movie proves my saying "Place and time are the most important characters in any story." From the montage of Paris in the beginning to the details in the bars of that magnificent past world, this movie made me ache with a longing to be in Paris, more specifically in Paris in the 20's-- just like Gil. The cinematography is very nostalgic.


Second, the music was FANTASTIC!!! A mixture of very Popular/Stereotypical French sounding songs (with acoustic guitar, airy vocals, and of course the accordion) with Cole Porter and Glen Miller songs. And then there the wonderful theme of Cole Porter's "Let's Do It" that floats in and out the entire time-- giving the film a very flirtatious feeling. (Sadly, a cd does not yet exist, but this website has a compilation of youtube clips that make up the general soundtrack.)


And it was so funny! Of course I have to say both times I saw it my group was the only one in the very empty theater that was laughing. Frankly, if you do not have a foreknowledge of the Lost Generation, much of this movie will never make sense. But as a girl who who give a toe to meet F. Scott Fitzgerald, and two toes to meet Hemingway, this film made me bust a gut. (Though let me clarify I was confused at a few points. I won't claim omniscience.)


The reason this movie was so funny to me, was because of the Lost Generation authors and artists. Instead of writing the authors as believable humans, Allen wrote them as larger-than-life versions of their own writing or work-- they are caricatures of their own art and their own legend. That being said, Picasso, who never speaks in English, has to constantly be examined by Gertrude Stein, who appreciates his work. Dali will only speak of tearful rhinoceroses. Everything the Fitzgeralds say sounds rather convoluted and is circular and a little like being in Alice's Mad Tea Party. An example (from my memory because I couldn't find it online):


Zelda: I've got it! He's bored. I'm bored. This is boring.
Scott: You're bored, I'm bored. We are all bored! This place is over, it's boring now.
Zelda: Let's do Bricktop's!
Scott: What a wonderful idea for our boredom. Let's do Bricktops. Tell Cole and we'll do Bricktop's!


Very funny but very intoxicated and irresistibly charming-- just like Fitzgerald's writing. They also looked wonderful, which made me smile:

And then Hemingway-- Hemingway made me cry tears of joy. I love his writing-- but as speech it sounds so ridiculous. Example:

Gil: Gil Pender. 
Ernest Hemingway: Hemingway. 
Gil: Hemingway? 
Ernest Hemingway: You liked my book? 
Gil: Liked? I loved all of your work. 
Ernest Hemingway: Yes. It was a good book because it was an honest book, and that's what war does to men. And there's nothing fine and noble about dying in the mud unless you die gracefully. And then it's not only noble but brave. 

As a person who has dabbled in writing, it is obvious to see why Gil would want to live in another time. The support and brilliance he finds there are no doubt addictive. The viewer wants to stay there with him. But in the end, he ends up being able to find what he wants in his own world.


To finish up my rather extended review of this movie, I just wanted to mention something a little more serious. There are some very beautiful and very true lines in the movie-- I don't want to discount that just because it was also comedic. The film is ponderous and really about self discovery-- but I think you should just go and see for yourself.


I said at the top that this was not the most profound or movie film I have ever seen-- but it is definitely one of my favorites.

Limbo and the Wonderful Boy

My life has been very different than I thought it would be. When I was younger I had those aspirations of what I wanted to "be" when I grew older, but never really considered how I was going to get there. I find that there is a simple explanation for this: there weren't any options. To most kids, especially in the lovely suburbia where I am from, there is one future set out for them: Elementary School, Middle School, High School, College, Career, Marriage, Retirement. It's like the Game of Life.

Funnily enough, none of that worked out for me. I skipped a grade, was home-schooled, when to Middle School part-time, and then took an extremely non-traditional high school route that ended up with me dropping out with pure exasperation and going to college. Not only that, however, but I am also taking a gap semester to earn money before I even start my college career.

Basically, I have messed up everything.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have a full confidence that what I have done is right for me. I made the decisions to do what I did.

But, it has been very hard along the way. Ever since I was in third grade (the year I was supposed to be in second but skipped), I have had that gnawing self-awareness that I was simply not the same. Very few people, even my close friends, know that I skipped second grade, because I was so embarrassed about it (and continue to be out of habit). Looking back, it is easy to see why. I had just moved to a new state, was about four inches taller than anyone my age, had no front teeth, no friends, and no confidence when it came to new situations. I have always been very shy, and it manifests itself horribly in those big group situations. Like school. To me, skipping a grade was a) another awful difference between me and the other kids, and b) a reason for them not to like me.

However, it didn't end there. I pulled out of school and did various home schools and online charter schools until I was in middle school. Even then, I only went to school part time, and so missed out on that very important period of life where "people make lifelong friends in school"(a euphemism for clique-formation). When I got to high school my credits and registration were so messed up that it was no use for me to pursue graduation seriously (though I still took the required credits). Basically, I was a black sheep.

Then I left whatever scrapings of friends I had to go to college where none of my other friends were going. And now, in my gap semester, find myself working and doing online classes: the perfect recipe for having absolutely no social life.

(short disclaimer here to clarify that the few friends I have are the best I could ask for, but unfortunately all of them either go to different school or live out of state. I love you all!) 

I was in social limbo. I am in social limbo. It is very lonely in social limbo.

Loneliness does strange things to you. And this isn't artistic loneliness or being alone or "me-time." As so many people have said, Solitude is very different from Loneliness. And here I am/was in the ugliest facet of loneliness I have experienced thus far.

 Personally, I can't stand spending too much time with myself. I have always been a thinker. But when I all I do is homework (which unfortunately is extremely boring in the "stupid generals I must get through" phase) and job-work (which I forget about whenever I'm not doing it), that just leaves me with one thing to think about: me. And that's just not pretty. I tear myself apart.

The few people who I know read this are now saying "But what about the wonderful boy?! Did you kiss?! HOW HOT IS HE?!" Well, I am getting to that-- and it's a beautiful story in the simplest way.

I have been having a rough week. Between hormones and stress and exhaustion, I just become a basket case. Frankly, I needed a pick-me-up. An emergency pick-me-up.

Luckily enough for me, Sweet Deity designed just that. And here's how it happened:

I went to our local Farmer's market and bought a keychain from a friend/acquaintance of mine. He is a wonderful boy, who was selling them for a fundraiser. We said high to each other, carried on a normal, mind-numbing small-talk conversation. The special part? He smiled the entire time. This boy was genuinely happy to see me.

A few days later I decided to go on a walk with my dog and my mother. Along the walk, I saw this boy again. He was talking to some people, and I was in a pretty in-depth conversation with my mother, so we just smiled and waved. And then a few seconds later we smiled and waved again. For the second time in a week, there was a human being was was genuinely happy to see me.

After all of this time I had spent being lonely, I was so disgusted and bored with myself that I could hardly believe that someone would be glad to see me, because frankly, I was the person I wanted to be with the least. And for a person who I respect, admire, and enjoy, who also happens to be kind of cute with a fantastic smile, for him to be excited to see me made me realize that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I am different and that I am in limbo or that sometimes I feel so imperfect-- because it's still possible for someone to smile at me. And now, I don't feel quite so lonely.