Updates

Okay.  It's been a while, and a lot's happened.  I'll go chronologically.

So, Saturday morning we all piled onto the buses to go home for a week.  I brought a friend back with me, and she stayed until Tuesday - which included Passover, a phenomenon she'd never before witnessed.  It was the least organized seder I'd ever been to, and my mother's friends got drunk on Maniscewitz and asked my friend things like "you're not a Mormon, are you?"  We had fun.

So, remember how I was accepted to that Chinese language programme?  Well.  Last Monday, the woman from the Chinese school organizing the trip called me up and told me no dice.  Apparently, NSLI-Y wouldn't supply her school with the grant for me for the same reason they wouldn't send me to Tajikistan - I'd gotten a scholarship from them last year, and for the summer programmes, they give priority to those who haven't studied abroad.  They want repeaters to go for longer.  I a) didn't know that, and b) couldn't miss school for that anyway.  I couldn't graduate.  So.  I'm not going to China.  I cried a lot, but I'm done now and trying to find something else to do.  There are a few people I'm thinking of visiting, and I'll probably find some work and start learning to drive.  But I didn't want to speak English this summer...  As a consolation prize-type thing, the Chinese school offered me a scholarship to three weeks of language classes.  I'll probably take it, to get a head start on Chinese classes next year at school. 

The week improved on Wednesday, when my mother and I got up at something like 5:30 am to drive to Portland.  We stopped for breakfast at some little diner, where I had what must have been the best doughnut in the history of fried things - it was still warm, so crispy, not too sweet or oily or heavy... it was my friend - and cranberry-walnut pancakes I'm still dreaming of a week later.  Then it was onward to Portland, where we generally dance in the streets singing "civilization, darling, we're home!"  This time we were in a hurry, so we just did a little shopping.  Or intended to.  We ended up doing rather a lot of shopping, actually, and now I have some really fun summer dresses, shorts, etc.  There was no time for Trader Joe's, which is the only thing I regret about the whole day, because I had a lunch date to make it to.  I guess it was technically an interview, with a good friend of my Senator who's also the former chief of staff of her husband, who was the Governor who set up my school.  Anyway, the interview concerned my application to the Page Program in Washington.  We had a lovely time, and lovely eggs benedict, and though I haven't yet heard back from the Senator's office, I'm hopeful about being accepted.

After all that, my mother and I drove back home, stopping en route at John's Ice Cream for dinner.  John's Ice Cream is the best ice cream on the face of the planet, it's a tiny roadside shop run by a hilarious, tiny Italian guy, and whenever I have the chance I consume as much of his dazzling product as I can stand to.  He has an astounding range of flavours - chocolate orange or lemon peel and strawberry rhubarb, the best ginger and pistachio, chocolate that tastes like frozen mousse.  We shared a milkshake and two scoops of heaven, and didn't regret it for a minute.  I fell asleep in the car, and was happy.

And now I'm back at school.  I hurt my back on Sunday and haven't been feeling phenomenal, so I stayed in bed today.  Real life will start again tomorrow, but there's only a month left of it!  Granted, I don't know what I'm doing with my summer, but I will never, ever again study chemistry after a few weeks, and that alone makes them worth fighting through.  I'm actually sort of excited about my final paper for AP Composition - it's about globalization - and the rest I can gasp through. 

I found my old art class portfolio from last year.  God, so much has changed... here's my favourite piece from it.

All I Want This Year is Something to Regret When I Am Older

Well.  I hate the Wizard of Oz, but I'd absolutely forgotten how cute Judy Garland was and how sweetly they dressed her in that film.  Okay, so this is a test.  I think it's possible to show you my lookbook stuff from this blog.  We'll see. 

It's really nice to be home.  I've seen my friends, eaten some truly magnificent food and watched Guess Who's Coming To Dinner, Billy Elliot and Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil.  I call that productive, don't you?  All magnificent films.  It's bitterly cold and windy here, so I've been staying in, and when I'm not with friends I'm writing songs or gearing up to do bits and pieces of homework.  On Thursday, my mother end I are going to a lecture at Colby college.  It's one of the three really good schools in Maine, and I would absolutely look at it seriously if it weren't so close to home.  But my parents are panicking a little bit about university for me.  The school I'm at, we all do pretty damn well in the national standardized tests.  But the classes are graded so hard that our transcripts don't match up, and so it's harder for us to get into top-tier schools, a lot of people say, than it should be.  Some of the seniors I'm friends with have gotten into all sorts of great places, but some haven't at all, and it is quite worrisome.  SO, my pushy Jewish mother wants me to practice visiting colleges.  I'm not much inclined to think about college at this point, let alone apply to any - I'm in tenth grade, for Christ's sake! - but I suppose it's sensible.  But, my god, you should see the emails I'm getting daily, the stack of promo mail I that was on my desk when I got home.  This whole process... they whore around to get you interested, you whore right back to get yourself in.  It's disgusting, and it makes me want to throw my chem books away, take sitar lessons and major in painting or dance. 

I also went to the dentist today.  I hate that fluoride stuff. 

I've started Great Expectations for English class.  I didn't think I liked Dickens at all, but this seems really great - it's funny, in a very English sort of way, and clever, and I care about Pip.  So, good first twenty pages. 

Oh.  And.  I have discovered eBay.  I mean, how to use it.  And I am just praying, praying that it's blocked at school, because I do NOT need to be spending this kind of money. 

So.  Lamb curry for dinner, then I'm watching the baby, but that's okay because the internet doesn't turn itself off at 11:00 p.m. here!!!

If I Never Loved I Never Would Have Cried

I made you a video, because I was locked in a tower by a fire-breathing dragon.  So you can listen to my accent being totally incongruous with Simon&Garfunkel songs, and laugh.

This is a hell chunk of school.  Only two more weeks, then it's back home, thank goodness.  But we've all been sick.  Horribly sick.  Today (probably yesterday by the time I get to posting this - damn internet curfew) my friend and I were both feeling really ill and sorethroatish, she more than me (grammar?) and the nurse wasn't in so we had to go to the dean of students.  This man is fundamentally miserable, hates teenagers and, I'm fairly sure, resents us like hell because we aren't vibe-sucking stick insects.  I feel okay about venting here, because I'm fairly sure he doesn't know how to read a blog, but if you are reading this, sir, please know that I think your behaviour toward us today has bee immensely unfair and unkind, and does you as little professional credit as it does human.  You may be a good person, but you're not a nice one.  He didn't let anybody off classes at all - and he knows we're not slackers and that we're aware that being sick makes us fall behind.  We don't want to have to take the day off - yet treats us like criminals.  He makes me feel like a really deplorable person when he's around.
Anyway, I don't want to bitch at you about it, but that's just not cool.

Ohhh, and it's tomorrow now....




So, let me know what you think.  I have to go take some horrible school-wide standardized maths test now, but I promise I'll do some proper writing for you later today - I've got a study hall.

You're My Best Friend, But Then You Died, When I was 23 And You Were 25

Proper update coming soon, but my cousin and I were browsing the backlogs of the BBC's predictions for the Next Big Things on the British music scene.  Some of them were right on - Adele, anyone? - and some we'd never even heard of but spent hours looking up because we are geeks.  These guys have me on my knees.  Their videos, their whole look is so vulnerable-'50s-drive in-drive by-skinny-gorgeous, the singer looks like Chet Baker, and their sound is really cool.  I give you The Drums.



The dancing in this one is just adorable.  So effectively awkward.  And what a a great stylist... look at the singer's paperbagged trousers!  And the saddle shoes behind him!

And this one... the grainy video style had me at 'hello'.  I want to be a critic, dammit!



SO, I'm nearly done packing to go back to the States on Sunday.  D.C., baby, here I come.  I'm dragging my feet over the lines I have to memorize for The Importance Of Being Ernest, but whatever, I'll do them on the plane.  Last night I went back to the neighbourhood I used to live in and saw a friend and his family.  The evening really couldn't have lasted long enough... they just don't make boys like that in America.  In a few minutes I'll go to synagogue with my family, then Friday night dinner at my grandmother's.  Tomorrow is Oxford, and then it's goodbye, England, maybe for a whole year.  But, on to merrier things, if only slightly: while we're looking at gorgeous skinny boys, click HERE for Bret Lloyd's The Quieter Poster Boys, a gorgeous bit of photography.  The tip came from my maytag model. 

I've done a nice bit of shopping while here, too.  I'll show you everything soon, but other than the shoes there's been a dress, some respectable trousers because I realized I'm going to be working in the Library of Congress and can't really show up in stained corduroys OR miniminiskirts, and some rather exciting leggings (think me: think polka dots).  And HAHA!  It all fits in my bag because I've distributed all of my granola!  Yes!

(It's LinkSlut Friday)

Pop Culture Is Democratic Until It's Fascist

I decided to be honest.  I decided not to lie about how I live. 

I also had to sort of improvise when it came to showing you just how messy my room is (I've been home almost a week and still haven't finished unpacking) because I didn't have anyone to take the pictures of me in it.  I ended up doing a lot of estimated pre-focusing and using the timer on my camera, which I positioned precariously upon shelves, music stands and a ukulele case and, finally, shamefully, I took pictures of myself in the mirror.  I hope you don't mind.  Anyway, this was a very spur-of-the-moment shoot prompted by an unexpected gift from a neighbour: the ridiculous shoes you see below.  Well, they were just too darling.  I had to put on something monstrously incongruous and confusing and... and sit alone in my room blogging about it.  I do miss school.

There are many terrible, tragic things about my life, but one of the worst is that my feet are US size 11/12.  Since I was very, very little I could never have the shoes I wanted, from the tiny little leather sandals with leather flowers on the straps to the shiny wedges I crave now, and everywhere in between including trainers, flip flops and snow boots.  I very often end up wearing mens' shoes in the latter three categories, and there is absolutely nothing in the world that could very few things depress me more.  So, when these... I just can't absorb how silly they are... things appeared in my life today, I decided something celebratory had to be done. 

 

Can I just be cocky for a minute and say that I really like the way the edge of the mirror distorts this picture a bit?  Especially the detail at the top of the door.

 

If you know me at all, you know that celebrating means cake and loud, clashing clothes.  I already had a cake in the oven, so it was on with the leggings, and I sort of went from there.  (hey, see the mess on my bed?  Somebody, please, tell me that you live that way too.  Oh, and do you like my penguin pillowcase?)  Here's the breakdown:

Leave The Makeup On, You Won't Sleep For Long

Killed that math final.  Beat it to the ground.  Crushed it with all the anger and malice I have ever owned, stolen or had thrown at me.  It cowered on its back on the desk before me as I delivered Death by a Thousand Cuts by Pencil upon its sorry body, and it slunk slowly back to the grading pile knowing never again to screw with the God of Logarithms. 

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Now it's late, and I'm luxuriously stretched out on the couch listening to Shakira sing stuff I don't understand because it's in Spanish, and reading Hyperbole and a Half which I don't understand because of its sheer excellence.  "We all know that coconuts smell good, but have you ever seen a coconut burst into flames from sheer excellence?!"  See what I mean?  No?  Well, screw you.  Wait!  No!  I didn't mean that!  You should not go cry in a corner because we read different blogs!  I want you to read me.  Really, I do. 

It's pretty here where I live.  Not quite as snow-smothered as school, but pleasantly shiny and sparkly without being all Oh*censored*ICan'tGetOutOfMyHouse.  Dorm.  Whatever.  I miss my friends.  I miss my freaking chem teacher.  Something's wrong here.  I miss my friends who live here too.  Because one of them had to go to Israel this morning, making my total time allotment with him equal to three hours per two months - we watched Undercover Brother last night and it was great, but now I don't get to hang with him till February.  Which is stupid. 

So, basically, I'm totally exhausted from finals, and I don't want to do anything again, ever.  I will sleep on the couch (my sister has a friend staying, and I somehow volunteered my room for the weekend) forever and be fed.  For twelve whole days.  Then I will go on a plane and live in England for a week or so.  Then I will go to the Library of Congress and be so freaking happy there that I will forget to go home to school.  And one day I'll be all "I miss my friends.  I miss my friends at home.  I miss my freaking chem teacher" and then I'll be all "Screw D.C, I'm going North!" and as soon as I get there I'll regret it because I'll miss Washington, which is a wonderful city where everyone should get to hang out if they're my friend, and hey, this is a run-on, isn't it?

Yesterday I acquired some very exciting sparkly tights I will soon show you, as well as my new-last week neon pink fencenets.  It's all very, very exciting.  I should probably go do something with my legs in a bit so they're still somewhat mini-worthy when I am set loose on London and Washington.  There's this girl at school who's totally gorgeous, makeup obsessed (my maytag model used her huge box of eye stuff on me on the bus yesterday and it was fantastic) and cool, and she lets me take lots and lots of pictures of her and therefore I love her.  Also, she lives directly underneath me and doesn't mind when I do occasionally practice my trombone or clarinet or sax... I don't think she can hear the ukulele.  Anyway, she said to me the other day, on two separate occasions that I had a) great legs and b) a great ass.  You should have seen me prancing around for happiness the moment(s) she was out of sight.  Because she should know.  Anyway, that's sort of what prompted me to buy another mini skirt.  And now I have to be worthy.  Because I love her and I do not want to disappoint her by having a not-great ass.  Also, I'd just like to maintain my apparently-great ass for the sake of having one.  A great one, I mean.

Oh.  I burn things.  I mean, you know I like fire.  But I apparently think destruction thereby is more beautiful than normal people.  I was making cheese biscuits today, because my parents are going to a Christmas party.  I was invited, too, I just didn't want to go.  In case you thought my parents have *censored* friends who don't think I'm cool enough to go to their parties.  Anyway, they came out really prettily.  But my dad was in a hurry, and the last tray wasn't done, so he decided not to wait for them to bake.  He left.  I thought "I have abstained from facebook for two weeks.  Let me go fry my brain."  About forty-five minutes after forgetting the already-almost done cheese biscuits (recipe below), I pulled these out of the oven.  And I think they're beautiful.

They look chocolate, don't they?  Well, they're not.

Okay, I'm going to ring people up or go to sleep or have a hot bath or something now.  Just enjoying not working, but it feels like walking down an escalator and then getting off, and you can't work out why you've lost momentum because your feet are still moving, you know?

Oh, and how about that whole DADT-being-beaten-almost-as-thoroughly-as-my-math-test-though-it-deserved-it-more thing?  Are we happy?  We are so god*censored* happy right now. 





Good If You Don't Burn Them, Pretty If You Do


4 oz soft butter
4 oz grated cheese (any kind - Jarlsberg works nicely)
6 oz flour
Salt
Pepper
Cayenne


Mix it all together until it's sort of a dough.  Roll it /4 inch thick and cut  or form it into logs, refrigerate them and slice them into 1/4 inch-thick coins.  Place the thingies on greased cookie sheets and bake at 350 °F (180°C) for about twenty minutes.  And watch them.  Oh, and you should put a pecan in the middle of each one, if that's what you're into, before you bake them.  Yeah. 

The Important Thing About Midterms, Really, Is To Feel Fabulous