Purging

Also, tonight I had a brief period of wardrobe mania. I cleaned out my closet and got rid of things I've been needing to get rid of for years, found a few pieces that could be altered to fit, and realized that some old things I had been saving in hopes of losing a few pounds fit again. Now I want to go shopping.

This is one of the many double-edged side-effects of watching three episodes of What Not to Wear in a row.

Trailing spouses

This post on Jezebel and the article on CNN that it refers to are really interesting. The idea of trailing spouses is one I've been thinking about a lot lately. I'm on a career path at the moment that is likely going to force me to move around for a while at least (at least until I get tenure or give up). I worry about my young man finding a job that is equally satisfying and demanding and that might not be very flexible, location-wise. I worry about us having difficulty deciding who will "trail" (though I think that term is really irritating) and who will lead (or whatever).

The other problem with this analysis of the problem is the vaguely sexist idea that it's the woman's own fault for choosing a more flexible career. Like it's her own damned fault? That's a little difficult for me to swallow.

Anyway, this is one of the many things I worry about heading into marriage. It's funny to be thinking about all these issues concretely (since the Hitching is just around the corner) instead of just theoretically. Very very very strange.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So much is in transition right now... I've moved to the new apartment and am waiting for Dan to arrive. But I am still living out of a suitcase and sleeping on an air mattress because I haven't finished moving and don't have a chest of drawers. I'm cooking for myself, but don't have enough dishes or surface space to do much. I'm trying to start reading for my generals, but I don't really have a good place to do that yet.

Oh, and I'm going to be legally married in a little over a month, crazy as that sounds. I'm having all the attending nerves and jitters, but am entirely excited. Planning is going very well. While I was trying on the dress I ended up buying, I also found out that my very best friend is engaged, which is exciting, but also unsettling. It's so strange that we're all growing up. I'm reminded of a passage in one of the Anne books when Diana is getting married, I think. Or maybe it's in Little Women, when Amy marries Laurie (which is STILL upsetting). I should look up those passages. Might make a good toast for the wedding...

It's just unbelievable to me that we're going through these major life changing events, and at the same time. It's nice to have company and to be making these decisions at the same time, but it's also kind of sad. Clearly, life is changing and with it our friendship will probably also change by millimeters. I'm not worried about it ending or anything like that, but am trying to understand how life is going to look once I'm not living by myself and once I'm committed to someone for Ever. And trying to get used to the idea of making big decisions based on more than just myself.

It's a lot of transition all at once, but I'm sure it'll all shake out in a pleasing way. It might be unsettling for a while, but once we're settled it'll be clear that it's the right thing. It's already clearly the right thing, but it's a bit nervous-making. But then I've always thought one would be certifiable if one weren't a little bit nervous before saying the big I Do.

Oy.

This morning I turned in my grades. This afternoon, I had my save the date cards printed. This evening I'm packing up my apartment.

Soooo much transition.

Procrastination

This is fun. Also, that illustration pretty much sums up my diet these days. Yes, it's working great.

Four bad things.

Four reasons that Boston is going down the toilet:

1. Cafe Paradiso in Harvard Square? Closed since last summer.
2. Cafe Graffiti in the North End? Also closed.
3. Filene's ACTUAL Basement? Yep. Closed.
4. Harvard in ALLSTON?

Here is a rather good response to my rant of yesterday.

Ungeduld...

On the subject of dissatisfaction... I'm feeling really antsy for no good reason. Of course, I have papers to write and to grade, exams to prepare and all that, but I'm not feeling stressed about them. I am naturally feeling procrastinatory, but what I really want is to have some totally random, totally surreal, totally weird experience, like I often do when in Europe. Last trip, it was the squatter bar. In my Cologne year, it was so many things... Amsterdam and stumbling around the red light district with Dan, Aachen and the Feuerzangenbowle, that one night I was out with Dan and Crispy and we ended up in some swanky bar doing really sweet shots, (my birthday that year was the underbelly-bad-version of this phenomenon). In Hamburg it was also a lot of nights... any choice of Kiez nights, stumbling to the Fischmarkt at dawn or going to the Golden Pudel the first time, or that night with the white wine and the boys from RLH or, even, translating Red Hot Chili Peppers at 3 in the morning with a totally un-surreal Spießer-boy.

I read about things like Ruby Town and the bizarre-o things that happen there (thanks, Paul, to whom I link quite often) and I wonder why everything here seem to have to be done under the auspices of a university or everything needs to be already established as Important or be, at the very least, easily digestible to be shown as art. I'm no huge art buff, but I do really appreciate the kind of mild discomfort encouraged in the art world I've glimpsed in Germany. The cool thing about it is that you can go and have these surreal experiences without much effort at finding your own surreality. Here even the supposed bastions of the avant-garde aren't even avant-garde any more.

To do something here that gives the same surreal feeling, the same kind of out-of-body feeling, you have to go a little more out of your way, a little more into territories that seem less safe. Maybe I feel this way about Germany because of its unavoidable foreignness. No matter how well I know the place, it's still going to be foreign, barring exceptional circumstances like moving there and staying forever. But even then. But what I mean is that no matter how normal the things I do there would seem in Boston, say, they seem odd because of the inherent foreignness of being there. I mean, I could maybe seek out some underground bar in Chinatown and have that same feeling, but I'm not at all sure it would be safe.

I wonder if it is just this city that is staid and rubber-stamped and whether I'm getting more boring and old because of it.

Or maybe I just need to write my papers and stop whining. Or just go get trashed somewhere weird tonight.

I sometimes (often) miss the "fragmented life in regard to US and Europe" and the kinds of late night emails it inspires. It may be time to run away again soon.

All Growed Up

Well, it's finally official. I've quit my job and am leaving dorm life behind me, almost certainly for good. (Let's just say wild horses couldn't drag me back to the dorms.)

I'm beginning to plan my move, thinking about new furniture, planning a miniature herb garden (in pots) - like these high-tech ones or these slightly lower-tech ones. I'm having Martha Stewart fantasies of beautifully arrayed dinners seasoned with my own produce (aeroponically grown salad greens and seven varieties of basil, oh my!)

I'm also beginning to worry about not being able to afford things like electricity, but that was inevitable.

Many many updates to come.

It feels like life is finally getting started after a few years of treading water.

• Tonight I've spent a couple hours putting together my lists for General exams - the last step I have to take before my Dissertation. It feels like a monumental thing compared with the puny papers I still have to write. I have my teaching assignment for next year and am daily feeling more confident and in control, professionally, than I ever have.
• Also, last weekend I signed a lease on a lovely little apartment in a lovely little neighborhood.
• Most importantly, though, the ball is really rolling for my lovely young man to finally come to the U.S. and make me an honest woman. We're doing the final bits of paperwork and beginning to plan the big day(s).
  
• I'm slowly getting a plan for financial stability and responsibility together. It's far off and optimistic, but not outside the realm of possibility.
  

Resolutions?

This is supposed to be the Year of Financial Responsibility, but I'm finding poverty to be in direct conflict with that particular goal. When does this get better?

Oh wow....

It's all coming together! Today our visa petition was approved and other developments in life are so very exciting. What a good day to be alive!

Eating? Disorder?

Whenever I feel like starving myself I look at 1 cup of oatmeal with brown sugar.doc

This is a fascinating essay written by a model who occasionally writes on Jezebel (anonymously) about how screwy the modeling/high fashion world is from the inside. In this episode, she talks about how going to Paris Fashion Week inspires her to a new level of disordered eating (which, luckily, she doesn't seem to have really succumbed to). "1 cup of oatmeal with brown sugar.doc" is a document analyzing her favorite recipes for calorie content, documenting the details of various regimens and diets she tried, and recording bizarre calorie-burning tips, such as "Drinking COLD water burns extra cals bc your body must use energy to bring the water up to body temp."

This all sounds like standard starving-model crap, but then you realize she sounds totally reasonable and relatively well adjusted. I mean, living with these impossible, unattainable, and frankly unattractive (angular, bony, shriveled) ideals paraded constantly, who doesn't head for the cold tap to down some cold water to kill appetite and burn a couple calories while you're at it? And add ice.

For the record, I have a relatively healthy body image - I don't have what you'd refer to as body dysmorphia and I'm pretty realistic about the difficulties of reconciling wanting to wear a size 8 (or 6, or 4) with being six feet tall and REALLY liking butter. But all the same, it's hard to not want to be skinny and wear Prada or Naeem Khan or whoever else...

Graffiti aus Berlin

While in Berlin, I took a lot of photos of graffiti that I found amusing or impressive. Here's an example of the former, seen on Oranienstr. in Kreuzberg. (This is arguably my favorite street in the world.)

I assume this sort of graffiti is done with a stencil, but I always wonder if they're made by hand or mass produced. Is there some magical shop where you can buy snarky graffiti stencils? Or do you have to order them online?

Now, I'm not a vandalism kind of girl, but I do find myself sort of itching to come up with a brilliant idea, and to take to the street with my home-made stencil, a can of spray paint, and no fear whatsoever. But maybe I'm just feeling a touch rebellious.

Also, why don't you see this often in the States?

A list of relevant links:

Stencil tutorial
Gallery of stencil graffiti
The Hipster/Yuppie version
Ostensibly the original

Here we go again...

Toying again with the idea of jettisoning LiveJournal. May as well give this a try for a while. For now, here's an amusing link:

Werbung gegen die Realität

They've taken photos of instant food packaging and photos of the final prepared product to point out just exactly how much food advertising polishes the images they put on their packaging. Quite terrifying, but somehow amusing at the same time.

Reenactment

I. Will. Use. This.

Back to a daily grind, a routine, responsibilities, and, hopefully, writing. It's time.

Back soon. V. V. Soon.

I saw Hamburg tonight. Like a ghost, like an ex, she popped up when I least expected her. I saw Hamburg and it left me weak in the knees.

"Are you sure?"
"Is he really worth it?"
"Use protection!"
"It's really not all it's cracked up to be."
"Just lose it already."
"Honey, you're going to need a lot of lube."

A girl can only listen to just so much unsolicited and inapplicable sex advice before she wants to scream.

I used to be a junkie. I was all strung out on your love.

I went running blind and crazy from day to day, chasing a mirage, an illusion of yourlove. I went running and screaming stop-stop-stop-let-me-love-you-let-you-love-me but you never heard.

But then I stopped, as you skidded around a corner out of view. My mind was pounding, my heart was pounding, my pulse was poundingpounding --for you. When the dust I had kicked up settled around my feet I saw the spin I was in and stopped, but the world kept going spinningspinning.

Your face allaround everywhere. Your name pounding in my brain.

I was all strung out on your love. I was a junkie.

The highs were dizzying, blindrush of smiles and laughs and arms slung casually about each other.

But then there was the runningscreamingrunning Stop.

I was a junkie. I was all strung out on your love.

But now I'm leaving all that behind. Leaving all the runningscreaming spinningblindrush smiles and skidding to a stop.

Skidding as your mirage skips a frame and falls out of focus.

I was a junkie. I was all strung out on your love.

And I hear Look I'm standing naked before you, don't you want more than my sex Tori singing and I think, yeah. Sometimes I would just settle for the sex.

I was a junkie. I am allstrungout on your ... your love.