From the deep there rumbled something...

Oh wait. It's just me. Posting a blog again. finally. I don't know. I have not been in the mood for blogging or writing much of anything the past ooooo...two weeks. I have been reading a lot, thinking a lot, doing a lot of laundry and catching up with my friends.

I know there's like, two of you out here who are still interested, but I swear I haven't actually given up on writing Beyond The Seven Seas...appearances can be deceiving. It's just stewing and sitting and not getting written. I will push forward. I just haven't really had the time. And, I got my guitar back and that's a huuuge distraction.

I feel like I'm 17 again. Not in that warm-squishy-basking-in-the-glow-of-youth way. In the..."dad, can I borrow the car? I need a job I can walk to" sort of way. Gag. On a sock.

Living at home again after being out of your parents house for six years is definitely not on my list of easy things to do. Not that my dad isn't overall a decent person to share a house with. The stepmother is alright too if insanely jealous that I can come and go as I please.

Sorry toots.

Currently, I am sitting in the office enjoying M and M's, milk and contemplating the delights of taking a shower. I had my Kung Fu class tonight. It is probably one of my most favorite places to be.

I have been running around catching up with friends that I have missed. I did not realize how much I had missed them until I saw them again. I have also been living life with exactly 2.95 cents in my bank account. Hehe. There are perks to living with your dad. It's like an insurance plan or something.

I think part of why I have not been writing is because my brain is processing. Europe was a huge experience and really, this trip home is more of just a pause in the bigger picture. I leave Kansas again to go back to europe on July 14th. At the beginning of August I am traveling to Estonia. I am going to try and venture into Russia. I'm excited about that.

I think coming home was a necessary thing for more than one reason. It is allowing me to gain some perspective on what I did or did not learn during my time abroad.

I feel as though I am sitting on a fulcrum. I can either slide back into the same old shit or I can re-enter some of the familiar situations from my past with the promise to myself and to my heart that I will approach them differently. Situations are, in some ways, neutral. It's what we manage to bring to them or lay over them or charge them with that dictate how they proceed.

The pasts attached to us are seductive. They don't want to be ignored. They are always waiting somewhere just beyond what we can see, waiting to pull us back into what Was.

I don't want that to be the case here. Where I was headed wasn't all that bad...no real things to complain about but at the same time, I can head to better places I think. I am holding on to some things-

I still want to go to graduate school and get a PhD in Art History so I can teach university. That's really, really important to me. I've also decided though that I want to live a creative life. Whatever that means. I know what end I want to reach, or the general direction that the end lies in but I am no longer going to tie myself into knots worrying about how I'm going to get there.

Goal in mind. Let the games begin.

There was a lot of turmoil surrounding the time that I picked up and left to travel for six months. I broke up with a boyfriend of three years, sold my car, boxed up a lot of stuff for Goodwill, took a lot of things out to my mom's, friend's etc. to be stored and left. I remember sitting in JFK's airport heading to Turkey feeling like I had fought on the frontline of a war. It was a strange way to depart.

Coming home was much less troubled. Granted, my wonderful friend sort of left me at the airport by accident (when I say wonderful, I really do mean wonderful. She didn't mean to abandon me exactly hehe) but there were no tears, no pain associated with leaving or returning. I was excited and a bit overwhelmed as I arrived into Atlanta's airport.

I know better now on an emotional level (not just intellectual) that I need to pursue things like making music and art and my business plan and all those things that make me feel like me without apologizing for it or giving pieces of me away to those who don't want to give anything back. Or rather, who want to give the wrong sort of things back.

That's huge.

Pet Peeves: A series

Why do men insist...and I mean insist...on wearing those awful penny loafer slip on shoes without socks?

Nothing says I'm a sleezeball who wears cheap cologne and chases 20 year old skirt even though I'm like 80 more than those shoes.

And then, to make matters worse, they wear bermuda shorts and a nasty polyester shirt along with it. Maybe a hat to top it all off.

I don't care what you choose to wear or not wear at home. It's your home, it's your choice. I don't even care if you decide to chase 20 year old skirt or wear Bermuda shorts and bad polyester shirts...just don't wear those retarded penny loafers in my presence.

More specifically-don't wear them and then slip your feet in and out of your shoes like you're at some beach side resort when I have to be stuck on a bus with you for 12 hours. Even if your feet don't stink, it's a principle.

I don't randomly take my shoes off in public...and if I do, I do it discreetly and with socks and don't do it in a closed space like a bus.

Thank you.

The management.

Overlooked Book Club

ok, I'm still building my blog here and while it's not Friday, I'm posting anyway dammit. I don't have a lot of time but here's my book that, to my understanding, belongs on the Friday Overlooked Book Club. (c:

It's a novella called Memoirs of my Melancholy Whores and it's awesome. It came out a bit ago, won some random foreign novel awards and was never heard from again.

it is the story of a man who is turning 90 and for his birthday he decides that he wants a night of passion. He has a history of such behavior and has never been in love. The tale that follows is not only a celebration of love but a celebration of life. The book is hilarious in parts, all being written with a very happy, tongue-in-cheek realistic approach to life. The comedy is offset by moments of open and honest tenderness. Really, really honest tenderness.

The book isn't driven so much by plot as it is by character-think The Man That Wasn't There style character films but condensed to 115 pages.

It is written by a Spanish author and the translation is beautifully done. The cast list is small, the main character, his friend who runs the brothel and the girl of his desire-a 14 year old virgin who works sewing on buttons during the day and takes care of her family.

She never actually speaks. Nor is any of the story told from or considering her point of view, it's all from the main characters perspective-an aging writer for a local newspaper.

It is a book that will make you believe in the power of love. Even if only for 115 pages.

Highly Recommended.

I will try and post more details when I have more time but it's a start.