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I am extraordinarily conflicted, but it's complicated. I don't quite know what to do or what to say or how to do anything other than chew at myself. I know it's got to come from the inside out but it's the outside that I want to hack away at. Damn process.

The worst thing is I can't talk about it. This isn't a cry for help, this is a genuine puzzlement. Maybe it would seem less like a cry for help if I outlined some details, but I don't have the strength at this time of night. In all honesty, I'm only awake because Mike's birthday is in 6 minutes.

I'll work it all out in the morning. I'll put down the fork and pick up the knife and carve out an existence for myself and it won't be perfect but it'll be mine, and that has to be good enough.

Golf-Ball is an Exaggeration.

workworkworkworkwork.

I'm having a great time at NEYT! First week flew by and, as I approach week two, I'm trying desperately to catch up with myself. For instance, Nick and I went to Ithaca last week and I didn't even say a word!

One of these days, I'll blog from work. It'll be epic (or something like that).  For now, I'm going to watch Family Guy.

7 Things (x3) or, My Life in Lists

Things I'd Rather Be Doing:

- Working on my play

- Constructing a truly brilliant mix that may or may not involve biddies

- Sitting on the porch of the Bungalow

- Getting made fun of at the Roach house

- Rolling around in a driveway with Nickolette

- Watching Law & Order and Family Guy marathons

- Having a beer with my wife when she gets home from rehearsal.

Things I Need To Be Doing:

- Figuring out whether I want to BE the girl from the Cake song "Short Skirt, Long Jacket," or whether I want to DATE the girl from said song

- Getting my ducks in a row for my senior directing project

- Getting my paperwork together and printed

- Figuring out how to be more productive at work

- Learning recess-type games

- Getting over my fear of recess-type games

- Getting over myself

Things I'm Actually Doing:

- Giggling at Nick on a more than regular basis

- Eating amazing strawberries and drinking chamomile tea

- Finally finding the time to update my blog

- Letting the iTunes Genius inspire and amuse me

- Grinning like an idiot 95% of the time

- Getting judged by the Walgreens check-out girl

- Driving with the windows down on a clear night in Vermont

All things considered, everything's pretty freakin' great right now.

I vlogged about the Tony's last night. I went to bed as it was uploading to youtube. I woke up this morning to 46 views.

The internet is one powerful motherfucker.

Warning: This will not brighten your day.

Please read the following article. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michael-rowe/krxq-sacramento-radio-hos_b_210637.html

Now, I'm not one for a letter campaign, but I highly recommend writing to the radio station. This is just too disgusting to ignore. Their address is as follows.

KRXQ 98.5 FM 5345 Madison Avenue Sacramento, California 95841

I'd also recommend forwarding this article along. Just a suggestion.

On a happier note . . . woo New Hampshire! We are one state away from a gay-marriage-friendly New England. It's about time.

VLOG?!

I finally did it. I joined the youtube community.

My first vlog isn't quite typical. It's a recap of my weekend. I think I'll do a more traditional "Oh hai youtube" video later. But for now, my shenanigans are documented all over the webz. Username is somewaywardtraveler.

I promise this isn't Livejournal.

I'm really bad at this.

I think I'm in a flux phase and showing little patience. I'd say this doesn't bode well, but it's only temporary. I know that with the next shift I'll snap out of it.

I feel like I'm back in 8th grade, writing cryptic blog posts. They aren't meant to be cryptic. I just feel stuck. I know I'll stop feeling stuck soon, I just don't have the patience for time to fix this. Le grand sigh.

I'm (briefly) road tripping tomorrow. Documentation is a must. Along with good jams.

Whither Wither?

I almost feel like I'm melting. This is the slowest melt ever.

Maybe I should allow myself a break. Lord knows it's been a while. But I'm starting to tire of it already. I haven't done much beyond needlepointing, watching Law & Order and occasionally venturing out to see people. I have projects in the works, but I'm waiting for my new computer to arrive in the mail. I have a new phone with a jazzy new ringtone, but it's not ringing very often. I have the Priscilla cast album from Australia and a newly activated Netflix account.

Basically, everything's great and I should stop bitching.

I don't really know if this counts as bitching.

Regardless, I have a lot and I want a lot. That leaves me somewhere between pleased and malcontent. I think I can live with that for now.

Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe that's not the worst thing in the world.

Triton of Tension.

I've been back in the 'burbs for less than 3 days and I'm already getting antsy. My discomfort is three-pronged.

PRONG ONE: Metropolis vs. Suburbia.

I never realized how starkly different the adjustment back to a bustling town would be. I think that I just transitioned so easily into city life when I moved to London that it never occurred to me that the switch back might be difficult. I keep talking about making a cultural adjustment, but it's not that. Yes, I do have to get used to America's puritanical views on drinking and the fact that 40% of people I see everyday aren't smoking, but other than that I think I've been alright. I pride myself on my ability to re-acclimate myself quickly. I think it's just the lack of buzz, public transportation and the ability to wander without looking like a crazy person. The fact that I need a car to get anywhere or that this town shuts down at 10 PM were small details that I had almost forgotten about. I've been forced to remember abruptly.


PRONG TWO: The Generation Gap.

I am at an awkward age. I am too old to be in high school yet too young to (realistically) have kids. Because I am in this odd middle range, this town doesn't know what to do with me. I no longer fit here. This feeling gets worse every year. I'm sure this concept will become more pronounced and justified once I've graduated from college. For now, it's not pressing, it's just uncomfortable.

I've been getting this vibe a lot. I'm not saying that small town America has no place for 20-somethings. On the contrary. I am a big fan of small town America, romanticized or no. I don't want to be an outsider, but in my specific community I am. It's no ones fault, they just literally don't really know what to do with me. I also don't really know what to do with myself. I guess it's a double-edged sword.


PRONG THREE: The Shame Complex.

Of all the prongs, this one makes the least sense. For some reason, I don't feel like myself here. I feel like I'm hiding bits of myself from judgmental, cardigan-clad gazes. This makes no sense at all. This is my home. Though the number of people I know in this town is dwindling, it's ridiculous to think that the people I grew up with would turn their backs on me for no reason. It's even more ludicrous because I've spent so much of my life not giving a fuck what they think. Even if I've always secretly cared (just a bit), I am quick to denounce them if they try to change me. I'm obnoxiously stubborn and quite happy with the person I am becoming every day. If they don't like it, they can suck it. I've always thought this. I think that's why this shame that's creeping up on me is freaking me out so much. I already feel stifled and I haven't even done anything.


I'm about to spend a month at home. In the year 2008, I spent a total of four weeks (maybe four and a half) in Sudbury. I'm gearing up for a big shift. In preparation, I am assembling a list of projects. Aside from personal goals, I intend on spending the next month reading plays, hanging out with some ridiculous people and teaching myself needlepoint. Yes, you read correctly. Why? It seems like the type of thing one would do in Vermont. Cross-stitching pillows or whatever is part of my emotional prep for the big move. Silly? Yes. Productive? Absolutely.

I'm including a song at the close of this entry. Not because it has any specific relevance to what I've been saying, but just because it's on my mind. Jay Brannan has a gift for making me feel. He doesn't always make me feel good, and he doesn't always make me feel bad. He just always makes me feel, which is more than I can say about plenty of things.

Many the Miles.

Today is my one year anniversary.

Exactly one year ago today, I was awkwardly stumbling my way through my first day at California Shakespeare Theatre. I was picked up by Daunielle and (slowly) whisked through traffic to the office. I got the grand tour (which lasted all of five minutes) and was thrown into rehearsal for Pericles. The first thing Scott every asked me was "have you ever been on book before?" Clearly, I had, so I began work right away. I still remember the scene. It was the top of Act III, prologue into scene one. Gower spoke of a sea-tossed ship and threw a pole to Pericles, who was flanked by two sailors also carrying poles. There were thunderous sound effects and, despite the torn jeans and baggy sweatshirts, I was completely entranced. I was officially hooked.

I often say that Cal Shakes was the best thing I ever did for myself. I know it's only been a year, but I still believe it. Dropping pretty much everything and moving across the country was a big kick in the ass for me. It terrified me, so obviously I had to do it. I find the things that scare me the most are usually the best for me. This was no exception.

There is nothing that can beat those people, those shows, that environment. From vaccumming those fucking runners to typing line notes at 4 AM, I loved every second of it. Late nights around the patio table by the dressing rooms and nearly setting my apartment on fire at 2 in the morning on multiple occasions added up to precious moments that I will never forget. I hate using that word: precious. It makes it sound like I'm cheapening this experience to a Hallmark card, but I can't think of another way to describe it. Everything about the summer reaffirmed why I'm doing what I'm doing. It inspired me and moved me and showed me that non-profit theatre can not only survive but flourish in the United States. I am sure that much of my reminiscence sounds like romantic blather and honestly, I could give two shits. It was life changing, so suck it. I loved it so much, this east coast girl is considering moving out there next year. We'll see.

I am eternally grateful to everything and everyone that made California possible for me. I won't be going back this year and I miss everyone desperately. I am confident, however, that life will go on. I'm sure I'm going to love Vermont and, by the time I'm done, NEYT won't know what hit it. All I can do is smile back on last summer and stare this one straight in the face. Believe me, I'm ready.

Hazy Dazy.

I am back in Ithaca. It really hasn't felt like I've been away that long. I won't go so far as to say that it feels like I never left, but it's still odd. You know how sometimes you don't see a close friend for a really long time and you come back and you just pick up from where you left off, no questions, no apprehensions? It's sort of like that. Times 50.

London almost doesn't feel real. It still hasn't really sunken in that I lived in London for nearly four months. I don't really know if I saw that many shows, or functioned in a big city, or never got mugged. It's settling in but right now it's in this hazy place. I don't know how to feel about it.

I am, remarkably, still healthy. RIGHT when I got home I developed viral pink eye. That was my body saying "Kristin, if you don't slow the fuck down I'ma make your eyes juicy." It was unpleasant but it's gone now. The worst part of it was I got treated like a leper. Sad face.

The great traveling continues! I'm moving down to the Farm tonight, back to Sudbury on Thursday and then doing home-type things. Like getting a new computer. That's the big one. I'm so excited.

The Final Countdown.

Yesterday, as I sat on a plane taxi-ing away from Heathrow, I realized something. I hate take offs. I hate leaving. I am so overcome when I can look out my window and see my former home shrinking as I rapidly fly away. The only exception I've ever had to this rule was my 36-hour-12th-Night-Extravaganza in September, and that was only because I was so excited to be going and knew I'd be back in Ithaca soon. My heart ripped right out again when I left San Francisco. I do, however, love landings. Landing is the best feeling in the whole world. It may even be more excited than seeing people at the airport. It's just so euphoric, knowing that it's all right there and watching yourself get closer and closer to home. Yesterday, I nearly peed myself when I saw a baseball field. It's the little things, really.

I made it back to the 'bury in one piece. I was extremely jet-lagged and slightly delusional and really hilarious to the rest of my family. In one sense, London felt like this really long, really bizarre, really amazing dream. On the other hand, it felt like I could go outside, walk for a little while and hop on the tube to go back home to my flat. I'm feeling juxaposed and wierd. I think I'll be able to reflect more when I'm less jetlagged.

I now commense the final leg of my Sherry Party pilgrammage. One layover at LaGuardia stands between me and home. My body's starting to shut down, but I will persever!

Sherry Party '09, here I come!

I suck, I know.

I've been sucking at blogging because I'm LEAVING. In less than 24 hours. When did this happen.

Proper updates will commence when I'm back in the US and have a new computer.

I could be in Ithaca, preparing to dump shit on naked freshman.

I could be in Sudbury, teasing my little brother and hanging out with Andrew.

I could be in California, frolicking with my wives in the sunshine (I should hope it's sunny now).

But I'm here. In London. And I'm happy about it.

I'm just not looking forward to this hurdle. I hope I have the momentum to make it over.

FML.

I left work over 2 hours ago. I just got home.

I work in Earl's Court. I live in Bayswater. Usually, this takes half an hour if I'm slow. I left get-out/get-in early enough to catch the last tube home. Until the tubes decided to fuck with me.

So I hoped on the last possible train and went to the only place I know how to catch a bus from: Charing Cross Railway Station. This is where you go to googlemaps or whatever and see just how far that is from work and home. It is, however, very close to Heaven, so therefore I know how to get home.

2 buses, 1 half hour wait and a can of pringles later, and I'm home.

Oh, and it's raining.

Oh, and I have to be at work at 10 AM. It's 2 AM now.

This is not a rant about my job. I love my job. This is in no way meant to reflect poorly on my theatre nor is it meant to be taken as me lashing out at my pitiful internship experience. This is me cataloguing an epic FML moment.

(FML stands for "fuck my life," for those who are not up to date with the lingo)

So now I'm going to eat another pringle and go to bed. Then in the morning, I'll get up, go to work and then write papers on my non-existent computer.

Do you sense a theme?

PS - I consider the can of pringles to be the biggest failure of the night. I refuse to eat my feelings.

It's all in the Motherboard.

So, I finally took Lappy to the doctor. The prognosis was not good.

My motherboard is dead. Fried. Kaput. Gone by the wayside.

It's too expensive to fix and I'm computerless. So, no more photos til I get back from London. No more youtube-ing. No more Skype (unless I mooch computers). No more late nights doing nothing and no more obsessive email checking.

I can still use my roommates computers if they'll let me, so I won't be ENTIRELY cut off. I just won't be able to do things like . . . write my art history paper at home. That'll be fun.

It's a gross grey day and this is a total FML moment, but I seem to be taking it all in stride. I think this is going to be OK.

A Quickie Before Stratford.

I depart for Stratford-upon-Avon in 8 hours. But first! This needed to be posted.

I am in love. His name is Jay Brannan and he doesn't know I exist.

In all seriousness, Jay Brannan is an amazingly talented singer/songwriter and actor. I first met him via Shortbus (an excellent movie, by the by) and it was love at first sight. Or rather, first song. In the movie, there's a short scene in which Jay sings a song called "Soda Shop." I immediately looked him up and bought everything he ever recorded.

Jay has released 2 EPs and one full-length album. His debut album, goddamned came out this summer. One of the remarkable things about Jay as an artist is his label. When conventional record labels wouldn't sign him without compromising his art, Jay took the profits from live gigs and EP sales and started a record label, Great Depression Records. He is a one-man operation, just trying to get his music out there. He really is phenomenal and I highly recommend that you, like I, go out and buy everything he's ever recorded. Honestly, he's worth the money and you're supporting a fantastic talent.

Anyway, he's just released a new music video for "Can't Have It All," one of my favorite songs off his album. Please check it out. Also, check out his website. And his blog. I follow his blog so you can find it through here but I'll post the website link below the video.



www.jaybrannan.com

In other news . . .

I have half a liter of Sangria in the fridge, a band-aid on my foot and a backpack full of underwear. It's Stratford time.

Journey to the Heart of Fabulous.

Last night, I went to see a new musical called "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert." You don't have to know me very well to know that this is the type of show that I hate. An old movie being musicalized, stuck up on stage and glossed over in merchandise is not my idea of theatre. I have nothing against musicals. I have something against the direction that "new" musical theatre is going. Last semester, I did a very angry (but quite witty) powerpoint presentation on Jukebox Musicals and why they can suck it (for the record, this was not the title of my presentation).

I decided to give Priscilla a chance. I had never seen the movie, but I had seen that sparkling, 20 foot high LED pump they have up on the marquee. That shining high heel is on of my landmarks when locating G-A-Y. Seriously, you can't miss this thing. Despite my moral opposition to Priscilla as a piece of art, I figured that drag queens are sort of my bag, so why not.

God, am I glad I went.

I was astonished. I was amazed. I laughed. I cried (from laughing). I almost peed myself. It was just brilliant. It was spectacle the likes of which I have NEVER before seen in my life, and yet I loved every second of it. It was just what I needed at that moment.

I think the appeal of Priscilla (at least for me) was all in the camp. This show was sparkle, shine and glitter. There was big hair and bigger dresses. It was absolutely ridiculous. There was a very sweet story buried underneath all that sequins, but it never took itself seriously for more than 30 seconds. One moment you were touched and the next moment leather clad chorus boys singing "Venus" reminded you exactly where you were. And it was beautiful.

I am very embarrassed to make the following statement. But I'm going to do it anyway.

Seeing "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert: the musical" reminded me why I want to do theatre for the rest of my life.

Now, I know this is a ludicrous statement. Trust me, I know. But you haven't seen the show. So don't judge. OK, so I know you're going to judge anyway, but nothing can describe the sheer joy I felt sitting in that theatre. It was really magical and ridiculous and . . . I think it's the elation. It's that feeling of elation that makes me want to keep going forever and ever and ever.

In non-Priscilla news, lappy's still busted. I think I'm going to try to get her fixed (at least temporarily) tomorrow. The G20 summit is in town (as are the Obamas). I had to walk by a police barricade on my way to work, so that was fun? Oh, and I'm trying desperately to sublet the Bungalow for the summer. But at least we have a full house for next year!!

One month and counting til I'm back in Ithaca. When did that happen?

Death of a Laptop.

My computer died. Like, HARDCORE died. It's been acting futzy for quite some time, but now it's gone. It won't hold a charge and I can't even turn in on.

This sucks a) because I can't afford a new computer and b) because my level of communication with the old country is going to drop significantly. So sad.

So, today, I guess I'm making it work without a computer.

I'm so punk rock.

I'm on a video kick. Now with more visual aids!




PS - I've recently started watching 5awesomegays on youtube, and after watching this video, I think I'm starting to sound like them. A bit. Freaky? Yup.

Everyone Loves a Good Video.

Update. Via my face.

Yes, it's 15 minutes long. No, my camera cannot keep up with my voice all the time. Yes, you should watch it anyway.

Highlights include my market loot, club recommendations, a death metal rant and my musings on blogging.




Here's a Low Strung sample.

Paddywagon Tours: Sponsored by Durex and Powerade.

My epic(ally lame) Ireland video is too much for my internet to handle. So I guess you'll have to settle for this one.




Why are the thumbnails always so unattractive? Good gravy.

Go Ireland!

Knackered.

I am far to tired to be updating. So, I'll give you some highlights.

Ireland was f'amazing. Videos and the like to follow.

I got back and went straight into tech for Trying. Therefore, I am slightly delirious. And I'm getting sick again. Oy.

I am desperately homesick and want to be in Ithaca right now.

I got some really good news today! The Tim Kidd fairy totally answered my prayer. Now I just have to figure out my flight.

I have to make a decision about summer by Friday and I'm scared.

I have the Ashley Tisdale version of "Kiss the Girl" stuck in my head. This is not OK on DOZENS of levels.

Give me a lemon hot water and half a box of lemsip and I'll take Ireland by storm!

How is it that I have only NOW caught the cold that has been running around the London Center AND the Finborough. I've been so good. My immune system just had to crap out right before spring break. Typical.

I will be spending the week touring Ireland. I'm unreasonably excited and quite ill. Again, typical.

Many an update and photos upon my return from the Emerald Isle.

Breaks My Heart.

The visual doesn't QUITE keep up with the audio, but you should still watch til the end.




http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/divorce

PLEASE take a couple minutes to watch this video and sign the letter. Thank you.

My Life as a Soundtrack.

You know how sometimes your standing on the platform waiting for the tube/t/metro/subway/BART/MUNI/whatever, and a song pops up on your iPod, and you didn't know you had it but it just fits your life so perfectly at that instant in time?

I totally had one of those moments today.



P.S. London hasn't felt like "school" yet. It's just felt like learning. But now I have an art history paper due tomorrow. And suddenly, it feels like school. Bugger.

Negative Nancy.

Things I'm Not OK With . . .

- the fact that I drove you two together.
- the prospect of not going back.
- the prospect of not seeing you again.
- the fact that I'm so fucking far away.
- the fact that doctor's always pick the worst fucking time to go on vacation.
- the fact that the only place I can find "Lower My Gun" by Jay Brannan is on YouTube.
- that you're not here.
- that I'm not there.
- that I'm awkward.
- that YouTube cut out the last 4 minutes of dialogue of the movie I was just watching.
- that Netflix instant view doesn't work outside of the US.
- the way I often go unnoticed.
- the way you called me a given.
- that I haven't purchased any non-alcoholic beverages while in this country.
- the fact that I can't fulfill my cat lady destiny because I am allergic to cats.
- that this knot won't get out of my chest.
- that I have to sleep in this big bed all by myself.
- the fact that I ONLY see people during Interrelationships.
- that you moved away before I got a chance.
- that I never take a chance.
- that I didn't email you sooner.
- who I am as anything other than a human being (wrap your head around that one, why dontcha).
- that I'm in this fucking funk.
- that my Polaroids are falling down and I can't find the Sellotape.
- that I have yet to start my art history paper.
- that I have no whiskey.
- being moody.
- everything.
- nothing.
- regrets.
- the fact that it's 2 AM and I'm tired and bitter for next to no reason and instead of sleeping I'm updating my blog.
- the fact that I'll obsess over this post after I've gone to sleep and will consider deleting it in the morning.
- how much I have to censor myself on this blog.
- being negative.

Dear Lord, please let this angst-y, reminiscent-of-age-15 phase pass. It's crampin' my style.

Can't someone just fix me so we can get on with it?

Blog Product Placement.

I'd say it's about time for a video post, wouldn't you?




When I said send me your email address, I blatantly meant your post address. Oops. somewaywardtraveler@gmail.com

P.S. - Jess did show up. And they all Skyped me again. We read Mad-Libs. I'm a loser.

untitled.

I have officially be recruited.

I have updated my resume cause I'm a dork.

I am the assistant stage manager on the Finborough Theatre's production of Untitled.

I'm missing a bunch of show nights cause I have class obligations and they don't care. I do presets, make tea, open doors as needed and act jovial. It's amazing.

When introduced to the cast, one actor shook my hand and the following exchange occured . . .

Him: You're not American, are you?
Me: Actually I am, yes.
Him: Damn, I thought you were Canadian. Not that I'm a great judge of this or anything.

I think I'm gonna like it here.

(PS They also might want me to ASM the next one but nothing's solid yet and I don't want to jinx it but I'm so unbelievably excited!)

25 things.

This note has infected facebook. I've been tagged almost 25 times. I love reading them, but I don't write facebook notes. How shall I repay the favor I've been given several times over? On my blog, of course.

Basic premise: List 25 random things about yourself.

1) I have been a workaholic since I was 11 years old. I see no end in sight. I am married to my job at 21 and I'm still deciding if that's a good or a bad thing.

2) Last summer, I picked up and moved across the country to intern at Cal Shakes. This was far and away the best thing I've ever done.

3) I have known one of my best friends for 15 years. This is awesome and terrifying.

4) I was mistaken for my brother's mother when I was 14 years old. He was 10 at the time.

5) I collect posters from any show I see that sells posters. I get them framed and they are my pride and joy.

6) I am a huge creeper and I am (usually) totally OK with that.

7) I have broken four bones: both wrists and the same pinkie toe twice.

8) I love acquiring music because I think that I am assembling a soundtrack to my life.

9) I have never been in a relationship, or even on a date, in my life. This means I've developed a special affinity/hatred for unrequited love.

10) I have 3 tattoos and one piercing. And I ain't done yet. Each tattoo represents an important piece of who I am. The piercings are just for fun.

11) My main concern when I travel is not looking like a tourist. It's a pet peeve of mine and I will go out of my way to appear as though I've lived in any given place all my life.

12) I am currently majorly craving white bean and basil hummus and middle eastern flat bread from Traders Joe's. And my wife. If you live within driving distance of a Traders Joe's, do yourself a favor and go pick some up.

13) I have known that I wanted to go into theatre since my first show. I played Major General Stanley's daughter in The Pirates of Penzance. I settled on stage management because it is the job in theatre that I'm best at. I am allowed to nurture and care for people, concepts and an entire show. I have stuck with it because I completely fell in love with it.

14) I love Zac Efron and I'm OK wih that.

15) Next year, I am living in my dream house with some dream people and I simply can't wait for my senior year.

16) I give my family a lot of sass and I love it most when they give me sass. In all seriousness, I talk a hostile game on occasion, but I have never met more supportive and unconditionally loving people in my life.

17) I still consider myself a highly spiritual person even though I've been to church maybe twice since I went to college.

18) I wish my life was like the film Almost Famous.

19) I am extremely shy and introverted. I hide that fact with sass.

20) Sometimes, I try to do too many projects in a semester. Example: fall semester sophomore year and fall semester junior year. However, these are usually the semester that the most rewarding and life-altering projects come out of (such as stage managing Nature and Purpose of the Universe, operating sound for The Last Night of Ballyhoo and directing Dog Sees God).

21) My mother refers to Barrack Obama as "your candidate," which I think is funny. That being said, I have no idea where my parents stand politically.

22) I am a huge Shakespeare dork but I've only read about 10 Shakespeare plays. I'm working on this.

23) I buy plays faster than I can read them. Because of this fact, I have quite a collection.

24) I think actors are the most fascinating people. People above and beyone all else, but still bloddy interesting.

25) I am attempting to learn sign language. My current mode of instruction is Katy Perry's "Hot N Cold."

A pictures says a thousand words.

Possible interpretations for this picture . . .

1) Despite my best efforts, I need to sleep more.
2) It's snowing.
3) Damn, I was having a really good hair day.
4) It's snowing in London.
5) Purple really is an excellent color for me.
6) HOLY FUCKING SHIT, IT'S SNOWING IN LONDON!

So yes, it was snowing in London. A lot. And by a lot I mean 6 to 8 inches. Now, by upstate New York standards, this is nothing. By Massachusetts standards, it's snow but it's nothing to write home about.

It only takes 6 to 8 inches of snow to cripple the city of London.

Tubes were shutting down left and right. Buses became non-existant. The top story in the paper was a guy who walked 8 hours to work. The top story on TV was how to drive safely in the snow. The borough of Southwark ran out of grit to salt their sidewalks. People here don't believe in properly salting sidewalks. People here don't own shovels. Shopowners were outside with wire brooms sweeping their stoops. A couple people had giant spades and looked like they were ready to go dig some graves. School was cancelled for two days (not at the London Center, clearly.) It was pandamonium.

The good news is, it warmed up. It's raining now and the snow's completely melted. But everyone still seems a little shaken. After all, this was the most snow they'd seen since 1991. It was kinda funny. I giggled, I won't lie.

Oh, I almost forgot a possible interpretation.

7) Londoners are silly. This snow ain't got shit on me.

The Seven Circles of Laundry Hell.

First Circle: Spontaneously Popping Knobs.
The knob on our washer/dryer that controls the wash cycles and settings will periodically shoot out of the wall to reveal scary springs and much frustration.

Second Circle: Settings That Make No Sense.
Temperature settings (Celsius or Fahrenheit), wash cycles (do I really need that extra fast spin? Do I have a choice?), dryer settings (but I don't have delicates!) and the door that never unlocks. Our washer/dryer is toying with our sub-par intelligence.

Third Circle: Washer Tubs That Won't Drain.
Even when the safety lock disengages, signaling the end of the wash cycle, sometimes water pours forth to mock me. I have to fight it with a bucket. I usually lose.

Fourth Circle: Dryers That Toy With Your Emotions.
My dryer likes to tease me. No matter how much time I dry something, everything is always awkwardly warm and moist. It's not OK.

Fifth Circle: Lack of Dry Hanging Space.
Because the dryer is a tease, we hang our laundry. And even with a rack and a lovely shower laundry line contraption, there is never enough room. Ever.

Sixth Circle: The Never Ending Hamper.
No matter how much laundry I do, my hamper is always full. It's been full since the day I moved in. I've done at least a dozen loads of laundry. What the fuck.

Seventh Circle: The Unknown.
It might be where the socks go. And no, it's not Narnia. All I know is, I don't want to get here.

ineediwantineediwant

I miss hugs. Like, really good hugs.

Spine-cracking, all-encompassing, warm-you-up-on-a-cold-day, never-let-go-Jack bear hugs. The kind of hugs most commonly given at arrivals or departures. The kind of hug you want to last forever. The kind where you can bury your face in someone's shoulder and just forget about everything because nothing else matters except the two arms that are wrapped around you.

I miss those. Let's get more of those circulating 'round the planet.

Melancholy Midnight Musings.

This blog entry should be taken with a grain of salt. This is a case study for why I should not be allowed to stay up past midnight listening to iTunes on shuffle. Because when I do, I draw conclusions like these . . .

I don't know why I'm here.

Actually, I should qualify that statement. I know exactly why I'm here. I am here to learn. I am here to travel. I am here to live. I am here to spend four months experiencing life in the English speaking west's most grand and historical city. I am here to give my mind and body a rest. I'm on holiday. I'm doing this because it's good for me.

What I don't understand is why I keep uprooting and abandoning.

This is a common theme with me. I am very much a home-body. I find a niche and settle down and build myself a modest, comfortable little home. From time to time, I leave this home. I'm called on to the next adventure. Maybe it's because I think there's more out there for me. Maybe I just outgrow the home I build for myself. I'm not quite sure. Regardless, I packed up my life and move to a new town, a new state, a new country.

This is really good for me. I am very quick to plant myself and I believe it is in my best interest to savagely rip up my roots and move to the next place every now and then. I know it's good for me. But I don't always like it. It leaves me with the horrible aftertaste of abandonment.

You see, every time I rip up these roots and relocate, I leave people behind. I don't think it really occured to me until I graduated from high school . . . I can't bring those I love with me on all my adventures. I love making new connections, forging new friendships and cementing these ridiculous, co-dependent bonds I seem to be so fond of. But when I pack up and leave, I usually leave them behind.

I know this is how it works. I know they do the same thing. In a perfect world, I'd continue meeting people and I'd just amass everyone and they'd always be with me, though I know that this is never possible. At the same time, that doesn't stop me wanting it. I also feel like this elementary principle of life is something I should have realized long before my high school graduation.

Two weeks ago, I did it again. I packed my bags, grabbed my passport and jetted off to new adventures. Terrifying and wonderful, I’ve plunged in headfirst and have been doing the best I know how. I am in a foreign country. I am not alone by any means. I do have friends here. It’s just different. I just left so much behind and yet there’s so much around me to remind me of all that’s missing. It’s wonderful and awful all at the same time.

The last time I was home (meaning Sudbury home), I realized that I can’t ever go home again. I could tell I was outgrowing the town long ago, but I didn’t think I was outgrowing the people. I fought that one really hard. This last time was the first time that I felt like they’d outgrown me.

Now, what has brought on this melancholy, slightly clichéd blog post, one might ask? I’ve just been thinking. That’s all. What starts it? Anything, really. Someone on the street who looks very familiar, a funny street sign I think someone else would laugh at, a song that pops up on my iTunes shuffle, an extremely expensive phone call back to the states for a fleeting instant of familiar voices, finding old videos in my computer . . . lots of things trigger it.

I think this funk will lift once we have internet in the flat. Then, I’ll be able to Skype and Video chat and take advantage of all those wonderful communication methods the internet lays at my feet. My mood and melancholy will definitely improve with internet. How sad is that? Hello, social commentary.

I’m just being silly. I know it. You know it. It’s OK. I feel that I’m allowed to be silly on occasion.

I spend half my life missing things. I spend the other half of my life loving every second at any given moment. Sometimes, those two things intersect. And that’s OK.

An update of the general sort.

So as I sit here and miserably wait YET AGAIN for this video to upload (y'all better think this video is AMAZING), I thought to myself . . .

Kristin, don't abandon your blog just because the internet hates you. It's not your fault. It's not their fault. It's the internet's fault. Blame the internet. Kill the internet . . .

So, I shall not let blogger.com's lack of video-upload skillz prevent you from hearing epic London stories. That would be foolish.

We have a beautiful flat. And a Tescos 'round the corner. And an abundance of cheap wine at said Tescos. Our first night in the flat was spent drinking and eating chocolate. We've also recently started watching The Tudors, and my deep love of Jonathan Rhys Meyers has been rekindled. I keep taunting Anne Boyeln every tim she comes on the screen cause that bitch is gonna get her head cut off. Clearly the semester bodes well.

Classes are great thusfar. I'm taking a British Art & Architecture course, which is a MAJOR throwback to Newton's Western Civ in high school. I was able to completely follow the first lecture, unlike some of my classmates, which made me feel like perhaps I was concious in western civ more of often then I thought.

Interrelationship is . . . well, you know. Interrelationships is the nine credit monster (or "theatre core" at ICLC, and it's just wonderful. I've made it through two lectures, one walking tour, a show and an author's platform and I'm just so excited to be here and studying theatre and seeing theatre and dear God, it's wonderful.

We saw War Horse on Wednesday. It was stunning. Epic and beautiful and really mind-blowing puppetry. So much goodness. And no, I didn't cry, Unlike some people I know (I'm thinking of one dark-haired stage manager who came to London in the fall of '07 . . .). A bunch of us had good cries and ran into the lead in the tube station. I belong to neither of those bunches.

My internship interview went really well. I'm not quite ready to talk about working at the Finborough yet because I don't want to jinx it, but I'm extremely excited. I start work on Tuesday.

I've been seeing a lot (but not enough) of Becca. Which is amazing. And totally nessecary. And needs to happen more often. Madeline, however, has been eluding me. Cause she's a trollop. Ah well.

This morning I missed out on the National Portrait Gallery because my laundry took 2 HOURS in the wash. Obscene? Yes. I think I did something wrong. So instead I made some lunch, watched the news, and went to the library to check out Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I'm a very happy camper. I'm planning on doing the National Portrait Gallery on Mondoy because I don't have class. That's probably for the best anyway, as I take HOURS in museums. I'm really quite annoying when it comes to galleries. I just stare and stare and stare forever at one piece. It can take me 3 hours to get through one mid-sized exhibition. I think it's best to go alone so I don't piss people off. At least in this instance, as I am dying to go to this museum.

Melancholy musings or reflective narratives with a slight overcast should be done on a much grayer day. No deep thoughts from me for this entry, I'm afraid.

Tonight I'm seeing The Woman In Black on Keeley's suggestion. I'm going to want to kill her later. I don't do scary. Katie told me to man up. Therefore, I am going and sitting next to Katie so I can piss her off throughout the whole thing. She has no idea what I'm capable of. Seriously people, I'm going to piss myself. I don't do scary.




. . . and this internet continues to fail epically. Big surprise. I'll keep trying. Don't worry.

Obamaramarama.

For the third day in a row, London Center internet has failed to upload the grand tour of my flat video onto this blog in the hour that I give it. Therefore, I will journey back tomorrow and give it MORE than an hour, because this video is totally worth it. OK, maybe I only think it's totally worth it, but I shall toil on just the same.

And no, we don't have internet in our flat yet.

I'm seeing my first show tonight! It's at the National. I may piddle. But I won't. But I'll think about it.

Tomorrow's entry (provided my video FINALLY uploads) will involve details on the B&B (my flat), gushings from my first show and profound musings I have deduced from my first week abroad. Will it be deep? Yes. Will it be cliche? Undoubtly. Will it be useful? Probably not.

Oh, and we got a new president yesterday. :-)

Mind the Gap.

I MADE IT!

My journey warrants a much longer blog post, but I am still living in the hotel and mouching off the London Center for internet. Let's just say that my trip involved one cancelled flight, one four hour 5 AM layover in Dublin, an hour at baggage claim and so many unnessecary lift trips in Heathrow. Yesterday was rough. I conked out at 8:30 and slept for almost 12 hours. So beautiful.

Flat hunting has gone remarkably well. We have found a place to live off of Queensway near the Bayswater tube station and will be moving in on Friday. And I will be enlisting the help of 2 other LS grads to help me move. And they don't know it yet. Excellent.

SO! Hotel for a few more days, moving Friday, getting internet (probably in a semi-non-legit manner), battling with INSANE ATM fees (that are really conversion rates, I'm just bitter) and sleeping. A whole lot. Sounds like a plan.

Less that 48 hours. Feelin' the crunch.

It's 2 AM. I don't have enough hours left in the US to accomplish all the things I need to do. Don't let my calm demeanor or the fact that I'm on my fourth "Law & Order" fool you.




I know it's hard to tell, but I'm totally wigging out.

[title of blog]

A little backstory is always nice.

I created this blog because I realized I should have done it long ago. In the past three years, I have moved over a dozen times and I'm about to do it again. This is a big one. I'm going to London for a semester. I've never left the country before (save one rogue trip to Canada), so this is kind of a big deal.

In my idealistic vision of inter-web-communication, I hope this blog spans beyond London. I'm always going to be a wayward traveler in one sense or another, yes? This makes sense.

Also, I had to celebrate the arrival of my new webcam.




I'm sorry it sounds like I cough when I laugh. I'll work on that.