And one-by-one I drowned all of the people I had been.

Things are shifting all around me. People are making drastic moves, trying to catch my attention, but I find myself even less interested and distant than before. Move away. Start a fight. Make a vow. I can't even see you anymore. Talk about tunnel vision...

Sometimes I wonder if it's even possible for me to give any meaningful part of myself to another person anymore: lover or friend. Maybe the compliments and laughs and fucks and drinks are all that's left on the table. Even when I force myself open, I find very little is released, and usually it is only the surface wounds that I bother to lick clean. I always say that the right people will find the real me; they'll "change my mind" or crack me without my even being aware of it. I have started to ponder the possibility that everyone finds themselves approaching a closed door. Is that my problem? Or do I just continue to insist that they are just too stupid to try the knob? I'm not sure.

Little by little, I shut down entire layers of feeling, former habits, and relationships. It seems like every other day a former version of myself dies. Pretty soon I will only be in the present, and I'll be the girl made of mirrors and glass. Reflecting everything, including the sun. Look at me and you'll only see yourself, exactly what everyone really wants to see anyway.

This all sounds very bad I'm sure, but it's not.

It is what it is.

8/16/10:: You're Telling Me a Fairy Tale

Here is the math.

If I wake at 6am to have enough time to shower and drive to work before 8am, and if after a long stint of traffic I arrive home from work at 6pm, I have spent 12 hours of my 24-hour day consumed with work. Of this remaining 12 hours, according to tradition, I will sleep 8 hours away. On a given work day then... I have only 4 hours to live my life.

You can only imagine then how pressing it is to use these few precious hours in a way that is both relaxing and fulfilling--and these two things rarely come packaged together in the same activity. I read a lot now. I watch a lot of films. I relish little trips to town to buy myself small pleasures like gummy bears or a new novel. And you can bet I'm wearing dirty clothes because I almost never have the heart to waste these hours doing laundry.

Well anyway, a lot of this time is fittingly spent wondering what I should be doing rather than doing it, whatever it is. And as a true American through-and-through (despite however much I wish to deny it) I want myself to do things that are both self-bettering (productive) and pleasurable. An American might easily interchange the word "pleasurable" in that sentence with the word selfish-- I don't think an American ever really does anything pleasurable without feeling guilty about it. Pleasure usually means naughty, naughty means guilty, guilty usually means selfish, and if we are selfish, we probably aren't bettering ourselves, are we? As much as I've tried to beat this mindset out of myself, I can't. It's who I am because I am a product of my country. I was raised this way.

At any rate, when I try to think about this imaginary, magical, elusive activity that will make my day seem like it was well-spent, my mind always drifts back to Scotland as I tend to view that as the manifestation of both the most educational and pleasurable experiences of my life. I also tend to think of reflection on the past as an important activity for self-improvement. Conveniently, daydreaming about Scotland is also one of my most reliable private pleasures.

It's funny though that when I consult my records (my writing on Scotland--in this blog specifically, though not exclusively), I mostly wrote very surface and action-based reports. "Today I went here, and I drank this much, and I met this person, and it was good. End."

But of course, this is rarely where my mind goes when I think back to Scotland. I find the most pleasure in thinking of the little things... stretching my mind, if you will... by challenging myself to remember the tiny details of what I like to consider my secret second life there.

I'd like to perform this activity now, but this time through writing. I will write a different but very true story about Edinburgh.

------

It's a Tuesday morning in March, and it's around 10:30am. Sunlight and street voices are simultaneously pouring in through my only window which is next to my bed where a night stand should be. It's enough to wake me because I don't use an alarm clock anymore, and I've had my window open since I arrived in January. I squirm in bed, wriggling out of my red satin sheets like a snake losing its skin. I can hear bagpipes playing, and they are coming to me all the way from Princes Street. I try to imagine all of the people pushing past one another in front of the shops there, and it makes me hesitant to get up.

When I finally sit up in the small patch of sunlight hitting my bed, before my feet even hit the green shaggy 70s carpet, I light a cigarette in my underwear. My hair is sticking up, and I stare out at Edinburgh castle through my window-nightstand-portal. I smoke, and I think about what my classmates are probably doing at the studio. Should I bother going in today? Is there a point? I text the girls to meet me for a coffee down the street instead. I stand up and water my petunia before I turn my laptop on for music. This time of year I was probably listening to The Smiths on repeat.

My clothes are all scattered on the floor, and it doesn't take me long to match up an outfit... almost everything I own now is black. I pull my tights on while I'm still puffing my cigarette. I feel like a French girl in an old burlesque show dressing room. I'd never considered myself a grown woman until my time in Edinburgh, and now there is no confusion. Men here think I am an exotic creature for some reason, and I have a new liberated and dominating attitude toward sexuality because of it. In ten more minutes, I am out the door. The air seems misty like it always does in Scotland, and the pavement is covered in pink and white blossom petals. I breathe deeper here because I am irrationally convinced the air is healthier. Girls in scarves are scurrying around the college, and a boy in skinny jeans is riding bumpily over the cobblestones on a bike. The double-decker bus blows by on the corner, and a stray cat walks beside me up the sidewalk.

Lindsey is already on the corner, and she is harboring a devilish grin. We start laughing before I even make it to her. We have lots to gab about on the way to the coffee shop, and I experience the joy of uninhibited, giggly girl talk the entire way down Lauriston Place.

I start almost every day this way in Scotland for six months straight. It's so simple that you think this could happen anywhere, but it doesn't. It's the Edinburgh Daily Special on Keir Street.

2/21/10:: Explosions

Sometimes I feel like the actual vessel that is my skull is going to explode open with the pressure building in my brain. My eyes are going to run so fast with tears that my eyeballs will just wash right out of their sockets. My jaw will be stretched as wide open as it will go to let all the words and memories and pictures spew out. An actual horror movie explosion of dreams and thoughts and memories and happiness and things I've been trying to save.

In reality, I just close my eyes, and I put my hands over my face. I sit very still, and I try to remember the way people sounded when they said something to me that I found very moving or special. My eyelids start fluttering and my forehead wrinkles up. My hands tremble, and my ears get hot. I can feel myself blushing in my own hands.

Sometimes it's truly overwhelming to love life as much as I do. And very hurtful to remember beautiful things and wonder if something as special will ever happen again. It always does. There's always something on the horizon. I am not fearful or regretful. I just want to keep them all forever. Just as clearly as they happened in that moment, right up there. In my head. So I can visit it whenever I want.

I swear my brain has a heartbeat.
Pulse pulse pulse.

I've been so blessed.

2/18/10:: Wish

6am. watching a woman bleed from the neck and listening to bagpipes via youtube.

aching aching aching aching.

insomnia.
wine.


wish i was sleeping.
wish i was in a weeping glen.
wish i was.

pointless.

2/14/10:: Yellow Bird

i have not forgotten you.

my yellow bird.

2/11/10:: Missing

I spend a lot of time rehashing good memories. It's always something I've done-- I tend to dwell a lot on what was, rather than what is. Usually, I write about memories in great detail or drift off into my head for a few hours. Being that it's the weekend, and I was home alone, I decided to see if I could get through the pang of nostalgia quickly and therapeutically. Decided to do a 2-minute painting of the memory/image I was thinking of. Very messy, but it definitely helped.

This is a picture I took of Joe as we were waiting for the train to London. We said that if we met again in Edinburgh, this would be our "spot." It's (shoddily) painted on a page from Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.

I think I'm going to do this more often.



meet me at the bridge, love.

1/17/10:: General Happenings

The happenings of recent times:

NIGHTS OUT:
Josh and I went to a comedy club in Ann Arbor on Thursday night and saw the delightful Maria Bamford. We got there early, got great seats, and I ordered a giant long island to sip-- of course, the most expensive drink on the menu. I'm such a sucker for a great cock. The comedy was top-notch, and I came home delighted to have not been a hermit all night. My buzzed head hit the pillow so easily, and I fell asleep quickly.

HYGIENE:
I dyed my hair this evening and accidently became a blotchy redhead. The color said chestnut brown, but instead, I have blotches of burgundy on my roots amongst dirty blonde... with dark brown tips. Disastro. I've avoided colors with red in them my entire life, and it goes to show that sometimes taking risks really doesn't pay off. As soon as I get some extra cash, I will have to bite the bullet and call in a professional and see if this can be salvaged.

HAPPY MOMENTS:
This has also been an exciting week for receiving packages. First and least excitingly, I got two netflix movies-- one of which was Top Hat starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. What a delight! Also, my mom sent a package with lots of new toys for Ollie, including a great cat house (with a built-in "observation deck" covered in faux fur). He has been perched on it most of the weekend, overlooking his kingdom like a true dauphin. Thirdly, Lindsey sent me the most wonderful Xmas present-- a calendar of delightful pictures from our times overseas-- each month themed: The Early Days, The Meadows, General Schwaste, Idiots, etc. Absolutely hilarious-- made my day, truly.

HEALTH:
Also, I've started dieting and working out. Yesterday I hit the gym for 30 minutes of cardio, some crunches, and arm work. I'm sore as can be today, but it feels pretty good. I'm starting out in the range of 155-160lbs, so we will see where I end up. I'm hoping to be down to 145lbs by summer.

CCS:
The new semester is off to a shaky start. I was feeling pretty great about my first critique. With only 9 credits I was feeling confident that it was going to be a much more manageable semester; however, my portfolio class gave me a huge knock to the ground. Matt doesn't think any of the work I've done in my time at CCS is worthwhile of my portfolio, so I need to literally redo almost every project I've done since I arrived in Detroit. Also, some of my favorite projects were totally excluded from said pending portfolio. Huge knock on my confidence. Trying to use it as fuel for the fire, though.

Thoughts are forward to the NYC trip and the beach trip.

Woot.

1/9/10:: Another chapter

The eve of another change, another move, another "new start."
I've been going through this season after season-- state to state, friend to lover, parents to cat, job to school, car to taxi.

Of course, you always gain from transition, but if I do it too often, do I fail to remember to bring everything along? Have farewells and new beginnings become so routine that I've been neglecting to fully embrace them for all their opportunity and emotional possibility?

[It's making me nervous how every day seems the same.]


But of course, I don't really know what good worrying about any of it does. I keep moving. I keep trying.
I'm never so bad off as to just quit. I always wait for the rainbow, so to speak.

I've become very conditioned to the practice of saying goodbye gracefully. I do it so well that it almost unnerves me-–the robotic way I can walk through doors, drive away, sign off.
It's probably not the best way to be-- I've always believed feelings are the most important possession. But if you decide NOT to feel-- I believe that doesn't make you any less the owner of those feelings. Perhaps you are just controlling them better? Perhaps you are just more powerful than a person who lets them spill out into their hands.
It's a very perplexing question.


I'll remember the panic attacks. I'll remember the massage. I'll remember the green tea.
I'll remember the candles. The guacamole. The... gift.
I'll remember the glasses. The dancing. The movies. The book. The job. The questions.

He was so beautiful.
I've been so patient.

Souvenirs from Christmas holiday 2009.

11/27/09:: Rainbow Chaser

baby Decklan

Albert

I had a really beautiful Thanksgiving, involving both family and old friends. Reconnecting with Schvee, meeting Jess' new family, and spending lovely time with Albert. 

Life seems sweeter than usual today.

11/23/09:: I really needed this.

I don't think I could ever express how amazing Joe, Shannon, and Shonagh are. 

Not that I needed one, but today was just an overwhelming reminder of how lucky I am to have friends like these.

It's been such a rough 2 weeks, and when I came home to find this delightful package waiting for me--I just went over the edge into waterfall tears of happiness/sadness.

I love you guys, and I truly miss you every day. xx

11/1/09:: F F Fashion

Aladdin Sane + Aborted Fetus

Can't stop listening to David Bowie after this weekend of dressing as Aladdin Sane for Funk Night @ The Majestic Theatre. Also, embarrassingly enough, Ewan McGregor's songs from Moulin Rouge have also been in rotation.

There should be more Scottish men in America, jah?

Time to retreat back to normal life. 

Eyes straight ahead, mouth shut, fingers on keyboard.

10/16/09:: There's One In All Of Us

I went to the midnight showing of Where The Wild Things Are tonight. What an interesting film! While at times I felt it gets a little childish with the way the monsters are handled, I often found myself stepping back and admiring it for the same reasons.

First of all, the soundtrack is GENIUS. Bravo Karen O. You nailed it.

Second, the casting is spot on-- the boy is simply adorable and delightful and spirited and absolutely makes the film. The perfect Max.

Third, what I loved most of all about the film is the way the director keeps making suggestions through cinematography, time, lighting, gestures that this is all imagination. There is a fascinating mix of feeling like what you are seeing IS real and it all being a beautiful daydream.

Some of the scenes were shot so beautifully and succinctly with my "dream-world" as a child that it shocked me. It was almost like opening a photo album of my childhood imagination. Things that now there is no physical evidence of, but that I can still recall at will just like any of my "real" memories.

Dark at times, but appropriately so... I really did enjoy it. Part of me wanted to knock it down after all the hype and the theatre packed with plaid shirts and dark-rimmed glasses-- but I think it stood its ground against my cynicism.

Also, the movie was part of a night that was really about me getting back to happiness--something I've been thinking about almost nonstop lately. Daydreaming about Scotland, fighting temptations to complain about my current station in life... 

I've just been majorly caged lately. How appropriate that a night out with a friend (finally) is based around this film, which is all about finding happiness, imagination, being free, making mistakes, conflict/resolution, and contentment with loneliness.

Good film, good night. 

It might have been the reminder I needed.

10/8/09 :: See Her Tumbling Down

Try to ignore the buttsex between Ewan McGregor + Christian Bale at the start of this video. 

It's my favorite song/video sequence from the movie that follows.

I love Velvet Goldmine. 

It always serves as an escape/reminder to times when I've felt free and dominate over my creative demons.

It reminds me of being a teenager and cutting class to drink apple tea and do photoshoots with friends. 

Driving on back roads and somehow feeling like we were the privileged ones.

The ones with the closest connection to art. 

The best taste in music. 

The only ones that "got it."

Which is mostly what the movie is about, at least to me:

Being a part of the group-- having that feeling. And the subsequent fall from grace that occurs when it inevitably has to stop.

That was the best part of being a teenager, and it is also the thing I've most regrettably lost with age.

Not to mention, generally speaking, it's just a great film with great music.

6/16/9:: Spew

There is so much to be said, but I find myself pausing for long amounts of time over the keyboard.  I've avoided my blog and my livejournal for as long as possible.  How can I even begin to explain what I'm feeling?  I try to find closure, and I tear those feelings down because I have a right to be crushed and sad and ecstatic and nostalgic and full and free.  

The slow approach of my leaving Edinburgh crawls at me with the flipping of the calendar.  I hear my mom's voice telling me she misses me, and my stomach turns because I miss Scotland more already than I've missed anything I've ever been without.  

When I said goodbye to Shannon on Saturday, I couldn't bring myself to cry-- as much as I felt like I should.  In that moment, somehow I couldn't understand what kind of farewell it actually was.  My body programmed itself to believe that "I'll see you tomorrow" was a valid statement.  In reality, it will be a year before there is even the faint possibility of me seeing her in New York.  And after that, what becomes of that friendship?  The occasional facebook message or skype call.  A bunch of fading memories.

There have been literally... LITERALLY ENDLESS times where I've paused and truly realized how lucky I am.  Look at what I have been given. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my youth would be such a party.  NEVER in my most ridiculous imagination did I expect my adventures here to constitute such friendships and beautiful, amazing people.  I never dreamed I would ever go farther than Michigan.

I remember at age 16... looking at people's photos on the messageboard and wondering if my teen years would ever look so fun.  Wondering why I never had those kind of intensely sentimental experiences for myself.  Now I realize I've had more than one heart can hold.  

In Detroit, we have a design department-- and I have Josh.  Here in Edinburgh, I have a FAMILY.  And I'm not saying this in anyway to put down my friendship with Josh because he truly is one of the absolute loves of my life and the idea of seeing him again is one of the only things that makes leaving here okay.  But-- in all of my youth, I've always only had one best friend.  I've never been able to be one of those people who can put together a gathering of 30 people and feel surrounded by the love of friends.  I've only been here six months, and I finally have it.  It feels good to be a part of something like that.  It's the most amazing and painful thing, and I think the people here take it for granted because it is something they've always had.  I don't think they realize how lucky they are.  

I know that these words sound fake.  These words sound like the sort of thing you would expect anyone to say.
That's why it's fruitless.

There isn't any combination of words and sentences that could describe the feelings I am feeling.  It's mushy and sentimental-- but it's the truth and it has to be said.  

I try to stay positive and look forward to the future-- because who knows what it will bring.  I never knew it would bring me to this.  There's bound to be more good in the future.  

I hurt in ways I didn't know a heart could hurt.  Because it's not for a person-- it's for an entire stage of my growing up.  It's for 20 friendships.  It's for a city.  It's for a lifestyle.  

How do you find closure for a fleeting moment?

I'll never forget this feeling.

I'll update my blog properly soon.  But right now, I needed this.  I needed to say it.

5/30/9 :: Spring/Summer Collection

Tonight was the second "graphic fashion" party-- celebrating bad fashion one more time.  This time, it was themed the spring and summer collection.  I re-ignited my good old gold suit by cutting off the arms and legs and adding some black tights.  I even commemorated the last party by drinking my vodka coke out of a jack daniel's bottle.

The party was fan-fucking-tastic, as per usual.  Lindsey and I lasted till about 6:30am before she left the party with Luke, and I lazed in Tom's bed.  Finally, Jamie and I caught a taxi to meet Linds and Luke in the meadows.  We had a good drunken frisbee session till 8am.  Lindsey and I stayed up to go to Subway when it opened at 10am, and it was probbbbably the best sandwich of my life.  Needless to say, when my head finally hit the pillow sometime around 11, I was done for.

5/24/9 :: Meadows Days

Since yesterday was in fact the worst day of my life, it was only fair that karma even things out.  I stayed in bed late, showered, and made my way to the meadows to meet friends for a barbecue.  It wasn't the best weather, but it didn't really matter-- we made a nice day of it anyway.  Food and drinks and cigarettes and cameras and good people.  

It was mostly the 2nd years, but Joe and Shannon were there from my class.  Just a good day of recovery and good chat.  Afterward, we were all supposed to meet at a pub, but I stayed home and edited photos instead.  Carian taught me his technique for making photographs look old-- practiced on my favorite photos from the day.  I think it's fitting for the kind of mood the day resonated.  I'll always remember this day.

5/21/9 :: Revisiting The One Below

What I thought for sure was going to be a bust turned out to be a great night.  I opted not to follow Lindsey and Sara to Cav, so I organized something of my own.  I invited friends over for some drinks at mine, and it was great to spend some time with graphics people-- as always.  We piled together on my bed in my room and enjoyed each other's company until about 2am.  Around that time, we spilled onto the streets and hiked to The One Below on the corner of Princes Street.  The One Below was one of the first places I went with graphics people when I got to Edinburgh, so it was nice to go back there.  Dan Porter and Tom Carlile both bought me drinks, which was lovely.  

I've really been aware of how limited my time is here, so every time I get to have one of these kinds of nights, it's like a band aid on a wound.  I am going to miss every one so much when I go.  It almost makes me sick to think about it.

5/9/9 :: Inked

What a day!  I woke up on Claire's couch this morning, totally disoriented.  It took me a good few minutes to remember where I was.  I stepped outside to find that I was on George Street, fuck!  I did the hungover walk of shame back to my flat for a quick shower.  THEN off to Tribe Tattoo!

I was really nervous, but it went fine.  I was really surprised at how painful it was!  I thought it would be less intense.  I can't imagine people getting that done all over their bodies.  He spent 45 minutes on my wrist, and that was plenty for me.

Took a good nap, had a nice lunch and dinner with friends.  Pretty chill day.

My throat is still really sore, and I don't know if I can stomach a third night in a row of drinking.  The girls are up for it though, so who knows.  

poses + baby blanket = my life.

5/6/9 :: Garbage

I've been scanning my trash and things I find lying around on the floor in my room.  I don't know if I'm trying to savor memories or if I'm just suddenly aware of/fascinated by how different my life is here.

I think blogging has a lot to do with loneliness. I often come here to write when I have something I want to tell someone but don't have anyone to tell. Out of all the things I miss from the USA (one huge one being my car), what I think I miss most of all is having a regular phone. Just being able to call one of many people at any time for a chat.

I'd probably call Josh right now.

And I'd tell him about my rejection letters from some of the companies. And how I applied to about 10 more companies. And I'd tell him that I finally talked to Wilson. He seemed to not notice that we haven't talked in a long time-- he's been sick with the flu. .

My room is really, truly trashed. I also have no idea what I'm going to do for my website redesign, which is due on Friday morning. I've thought about it a bit, but nothing really seems to stick with me as a great idea. 

Lindsey and Sara are both mad at me. Partly because I was a total bitch to them when the London thing got cancelled. I can't help feeling like they teamed up on me behind my back. I saw them today, laughing on the street under an umbrella, and they didn't acknowledge me. I wasn't really surprised.

Everything seems like a bad decision. I feel confident in nothing right now. I need to sort things out and start making some choices that I feel truly confident in. I don't know where to start, and I'm not sure I have the energy. 

I need some courage.

It's raining cats and dogs out. How fitting.
No wonder I feel weighted to the bed.

5/4/9 :: Music Samplings

Here is the playlist that I have had on repeat every morning as I get ready for over four months.  (Some tracks are newer than others.)

1. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Over and Over Again (Lost and Found)

2. Neutral Milk Hotel - The King Of Carrot Flowers (Part One)

3. Xiu Xiu- I Luv The Valley OH

4. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah- Details Of The War

5. Wolf Parade- I'll Believe In Anything

6. Animal Collective- For Reverend Green

7. The Beatles- Ticket To Ride

8. Shocking Pinks- This Arching Deal

9. The Dodos- Eyelids

10. Nico- These Days

11. Fleet Floxes- White Winter Hymnal

12. Panda Bear- Comfy in Nautica

13. DeVotchka- The Clockwise Witness

14. The Pipettes- Dirty Mind

15. The Teenagers- Homecoming

16. The Jesus and Mary Chain- Hardest Walk

17. The Smiths- Shoplifters Of The World Unite

18. Against Me!- Those Anarcho Punks Are Mysterious

19. Panda Bear- Take Pills

I heard an amazing song at Luke's the other night that I really wanted to add, but I couldn't grab his attention to get the title or artist.  

I really love it here, but I really hate not having a car to drive to Walmart at any time of the night to get supplies when I have an urge to make something.  Right now, I really want to make some hemp jewelry.   No luck.  Not only is no place open, but I haven't been able to find hemp anywhere in Edinburgh the entire time I've been here.

I've had mixed feelings about it for the past week, but I'm over it now.  I am ready for my tattoo.  My appointment is Saturday at 12:30.  Wish me luck.

I feel really bad about not taking a picture today on my lunch with Joe, so to make up for it I have posted a really, super super embarrassing video that was taken one EXTREMELY drunken night in London.  I am so good at humiliating myself that it hurts.  Good times, girls.  Not only do I obviously have no sense of key when drunkenly singing, but apparently I also will never learn the words to this song.  The "WANKER!" at the end-- it gets me every time.