delights of home-ism

I have spent a good bit of my time going through what used to be my room. It's turned into something resembling more a storage space than bedroom, but that's alright. Somehow, it makes any discover that much sweeter. T-shirts, sweaters, jeans I forgot I had/fit, music, books, on and on and on.

Currently, I'm loading some of that music I'd put onto my shiney new best mechanical friend. Music like Ozma, Geggy Tah, Powderfinger, Enrique Iglesias, The Donnas, U.N.K.L.E., TV on The Radio, Greatest Hits of New Kids on the Block, Whitney Houston, Macy Gray, Ari Hest, Jim Carroll (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), K's Choice, Natacha Atlas, Selena, etc. etc. etc. So many things from high school and waaaay before.

My cup runneth over.

Tomorrow, the new addition to my jaw. I'm not sure really what I'm thinking about it. I just know that it's necessary, may be painful (but is more wanted than I care about any sort of pain), and will cost me a shit ton of money. But it will be done, then that part will be over and focus forward, I suppose.

Still disappointed and sad about being back--to be expected, I guess. Don't really know how to articulate it all still. Eventually, I suppose.

Suburban livin

It's bright and sunny in the midwest. I heard it's supposed to be 80 degrees today and I can believe it completely, but don't necessarily want it. (It's nice to be working in Fahrenheit again--because I can understand it. I know it by heart. Living in Celsius didn't become that much easier, but at least I had my handy mobile to translate everything for me.)

I'm sitting on my mom's balcony. All I can see are man made constructions, grass and some trees. I can hear the neighbors chatting, even above the music in my headphones, and the wavering of their voices gives away their age. (I'm wondering exactly how many more wrinkles they have since the last time I glimpsed them.) And there are a lot of wasps flying around the edge of the roof. So I'm not exactly sure why I'm sitting out here, beside the fact that I miss the sun and it is somewhere easy and comfortable to be.

We went to the grocery store yesterday and I couldn't make it the entire length of the chips & cookies aisle. I began my journey thinking that I could really go for some tortilla chips since it's been nearly a year since having quality tortilla chips, fresh or otherwise, and I just opened a can of vegetarian refried beans and a jar of salsa at home. I took a few paces, looking at all the chips to my right and just stopped. I had already seen so much and the aisle went on so much further. It was one of those instances in which the light at the end didn't exist. It was just junk food and more junk food. I had found it, the answer as to why Americans tend to be the fattest in all the world, and it is the chips and cookies aisle. Plus the rest of the grocery store. This wasn't even Meijers. No, not at all. It was simply a Farmer Jack's.

Later on, Kim came over and we headed to the park right next to the lake. That lake is endless. When you're over in Grosse Pointe, you can see Windsor, but in St. Clair Shores, it goes on forever and is the bluest of polluted blues.

We stopped at Red Robins for a bite to eat and I was again amazed at the fatness of Americans. Of course, we weren't exactly the best of the best since we were getting nachos (which used to be plentiful and amazing and beautiful at Red Robin's, but never again. Never again.) and a tower of artery-clogging onion rings, but that is beyond the point.

I miss the accents already. The accent of the waitress last night, all nose and most painful to listen to, made my skin crawl.

I mean, among the many things and the people that I miss, the accents are one. It is odd. Everything is odd. And I know it will just get stranger still. But being in a new locale is probably the best thing for now. Something completely new.

I still look at every dog and go, aw. I am hoping that the brother is still wanting a dog. A nice cute one. Something that can go running and hiking. But, for some reason, I think the allergies may hurt that.

I have this big stack of books and, when I pass it, it kind of whimpers something about a bright, fruitful and productive future. And I keep going.

This whole job search stuff wasn't supposed to happen for a while. It was supposed to be an internship search, but then my tooth wanted to hate me. Overall, what's going to be happening is not a bad alternative, but it really is just that: an alternative. There's a life and people and experiences and time that were left behind in Dublin. And it all happened so quickly. I keep thinking that more time would have been nice--time to go to the pubs I always wanted, time to lay in the sun in skirts with the grass of my favourite parks tickling my knees--but, in the end, there's no amount of time that would ease saying goodbye.

It is hard to think of what sort of jobs that are out there. When people ask, I want to tell them that I am looking for something that 1.) really rocks 2.) deals with people 3.) is challenging 4.) is something i'll never get bored at 5.) rocks the world's socks in a very positive manner 6.) has benefits and a fair bit of benjamins para mi.

Things at home seem really much the same since I left. Even a lot of the food is the same--and far past its expiration date. I got super excited when I saw natural peanut butter, only to have my heart splatter on the kitchen floor when I realised it was six months past its expiry date.

Everything has moved so quickly. I'm not quite sure how to wrap my head around that. It didn't feel like I was back in the United States until sitting in the Minneapolis airport. The accents, the frumpy Midwestern wear, the drinking fountain (!! one of the things I missed most about American culture), Prue's letter, acute exhaustion.

Now I have a ticket for San Francisco on May 2nd and a desk full of books on resumes, specialised fields and interviews. And one big brother beginning the essential networking for me.

Italia!

Rapid speaking! Gelato! Funny times! Gelato! Gnocci!!!!!! Gelato! Ancient things! More gelato!

Okay, so not completely. But I swear that the time in Italy was definitely one of my best holidays thus far of my short life. So good that I do believe a return to Italy is in order and for more than a holiday. Not sure when, but hopefully soon.

First of all, the Italian MC have to be some of the best hosts ever. Not only do theycook for us every night (including cafe & cheese! yes, that is definitely the quickest route to my heart), but they even vacated some of the comfiest beds ever. Especially when you consider they were beds for the MC. Ours are about a third the size.

Luckily for us, but unluckily for the delegates, the weather was lacking. It didn't clear up and become warm & beautiful until the last day of the conference. So Zuzka and I dared our way to the beach before heading off to Venice for some more of that divine drink that I cannot spell, so I'll have to edit that in later....

Our fearless conference manager.

I am more than glad to know that some people understand the necessity of striking a pose when the mood hits and the scenery is tops.

Waiting for Stacey to find us in Venice, the darling MC takes a breather.

It's a beautiful day in Dublin. The birds are signing, there is hardly any traffic and no sign of a siren as of yet.


I think I accidentally (ok, I know I did, but it was accidental) packed my Michigan Pimp Pad tshirt. This means I'll have to open one of the bags to pull it out. After searching it out. I'm thinking my main targets for the day are: the Liffey, Oscar Wilde, St Patrick's Catedral, perhaps Molly Malone and Oscar Wilde.


One of the saddest things in the world has to be when something ends early and you don't want it to. Two months to two weeks, two weeks to two days. I think the number two has it out for me and I don't really appreciate that.


In other news, I actually found an internship that is right up my alley. Now I'm wondering how many more like this actually exist. I saw one located in the UK, but I think it's long past due that I spend more than two weeks in a country whose language I can't understand.

my emo youtube post.

Every now and then, you have to appreciate the emo videos posted on youtube. The girl with you are not alone written on her hand makes the whole thing--until I get the song with same title by Michael Jackson stuck in my head....

R.I.P., Mr. Vonnegut.

Amber just showed me the link to the NY Times article chronicalling the life of one of the most prolific writers that I've read thus far in my short, short life. I remember only two other deaths that affected me in such a way: Jim Henson & Shel Silverstein. Back then, at least I had the excuse that I was a kid--not so much when Shel Silverstein died, but for sure when Henson did.

When a Tralfamadorian sees a corpse, all he thinks is that the dead person is in a bad condition in that particular moment, but that the same person is just fine in plenty of other moments. Now, when I myself hear that somebody is dead, I simply shrug and say what the ralfamadorians say about dead people, which is ‘So it goes’.

--Billy Pilgrim, Slaughterhouse-Five

Having a hero die is a sad thing. Thinking that someone passed through the world and you didn't get a chance to meet them--but it's different when their words and thoughts are captured in so many separate places. The other thing about a hero dying is that it kind of makes you realise it's time for you to work on becoming one for someone else, to live your life in that utmost manner so that you can also do something big.