Princess Leia--my style icon and role model...
I was wearing my Princess Leia hairstyle when I met my cool girl neighbor today! It was a fun time.
07 September 2013
06 September 2013
That Blog Meta
I just have a thought. Does every single blogger EXCEPT ME out there have absolutely NO IDEA that every single blog is really all the same? Because I'm fairly sure we all think we're so different. You know? But there're always little groups of y'all who do exactly the same things. We have the "pastel grunge kawaii girl" right over here, who makes shrines in her walk-in closets and abandoned gardens to anime characters and glitter erasers and creepy doll heads, and listens to Nirvana and Lana Del Rey and j-pop, but there are like fifty mazillion of you guys all over the place!
I can't even BEGIN to go into detail about how many "hipster" titles people have given themselves in the blogosphere, and on Polyvore too. We have the 90s kids, the kids who were born in the wrong era, the angsty kids (although really that applies to everyone), the lolita kids, the kawaii kids, the grunge kids, the retro kids, the free-spirited kids (although everyone knows who the REAL free-spirited kids are), and so many others. Then, in the more obscure and creative corners of the blogosphere, we have the hybrids. These are the people that proclaim themselves to be these weird mutant names that will occasionally contradict each other, ranging from "geek slacker"--wait, what?--to "pastel lolita grunge," and so much more in between. What is this?
Well, I'm wrapping it up because I'll go on forever like this, but I'd love to, y'know, start up a whole conversation geared toward the sophisticated meta on the internet. So just think about this. And listen to Everybody Loves You Now, which has nothing to do with anything, except that it's Billy Joel, so of couuuurse it has everything to do with everything.
I can't even BEGIN to go into detail about how many "hipster" titles people have given themselves in the blogosphere, and on Polyvore too. We have the 90s kids, the kids who were born in the wrong era, the angsty kids (although really that applies to everyone), the lolita kids, the kawaii kids, the grunge kids, the retro kids, the free-spirited kids (although everyone knows who the REAL free-spirited kids are), and so many others. Then, in the more obscure and creative corners of the blogosphere, we have the hybrids. These are the people that proclaim themselves to be these weird mutant names that will occasionally contradict each other, ranging from "geek slacker"--wait, what?--to "pastel lolita grunge," and so much more in between. What is this?
Well, I'm wrapping it up because I'll go on forever like this, but I'd love to, y'know, start up a whole conversation geared toward the sophisticated meta on the internet. So just think about this. And listen to Everybody Loves You Now, which has nothing to do with anything, except that it's Billy Joel, so of couuuurse it has everything to do with everything.
05 September 2013
Say it ain't so
Woke up this morning, smiled at the rising sun
Three little birds
Were on my doorstep
Singing sweet songs
A melody pure and sure
Saying
This is our message to you.
* * *
I've gotten into printing out the lyrics of songs I like and analyzing them. Music is poetry, you know? That sounds so hippie, but hey, there's nothing wrong with that! #hippielife with Elinor Beveridge.
Anyway, so, that was Three Little Birds by Bob Marley (AND THE WAILERS!), in the case you're so ill-informed that *cringes sympathetically* you don't know that song. Hopefully, you do.
I have an amazing story! We ate at this place called Land Ho! last night for dinner (yes, exclamation point included), and it's totally stereotypically Cape Cod, New England in general. Everything on the menu was some variation of fried [insert seafood here], and there were all these families and, my favorite, old people just chilling out and having a dandy old time. They happened to have Billy Joel on, which was awesome. And THEN! And THEN! I was just minding my own business and making fun of this guy in the corner who was wearing a blanket over his head and looking like the Sheikh of Cape Cod when it happened! I realized that Land Ho! yes, Land Ho! was playing the oddest song selection. It was alternative and relatively obscure, you know? Anyway, Land Ho! was playing SAY IT AIN'T SO! Throughout the whole restaurant! I almost--to quote Steven Spielberg--vomited from the excitement of it all. It was a happy evening for me.
So I'm staying at the Chatham Bars Inn, in Chatham (no, really?). It's pretty schnazzy. It's really nice and pretty! I like sitting out on the beach and watching the boats, or fishing. I caught a bunch of dismembered crab appendages! It was a fun time. And on Monday school starts. Which is terribly weird, of course. But this year, I have a great new army rucksack, so I'm completely prepared! And we basically bought out all of Uniqlo for my "fall wardrobe." Life's good, you know? Again, more hippie sentiments. I more or less attempted to structure my life this past summer by making to-do lists, so here's mine for when I get home. Not that I'll actually end up DOING anything on it, but y'know the drill. I like to think that I'll be accomplishing something...
To-Dos For When I Get Home
-communicate with Tess about baking/movie-watching! Ahem, Tess.
-load up schnazzy army satchel
-confirm film dates
-get bike
-play tennis
-download podcasts onto phone--This American Life, Skeptoid, Coffee Break, otras lenguas, etc.
-practice MICHEL!
-de-clutter shelves of closet
-develop piéce list
-work. on. calligraphy.
-Know what would be cool? A fish tank with books in it.
-organize desk
-brainstorm for massive bulletin board
-GET the bulletin board, uh-huh
-read L'Oignon (sorry! Sorry! The Onion, mleeeeh)
-go to the Harringtons'
-get more books at book sales
-re-read Bad Boy for school
-wear 1984 shirt--yes folks, I got a 1984 shirt. Brown University bookstore! Ach, the benefits of going to college and not having the obligations of, well, college.
-No Woman No Cry (long story)
-PM Jezzy and tea-at-sunrise
-make stickers/flyers ("If you like [e.g., Simon and Garfunkel], read I Was Aiming for Clever!")
-talk to L & Cat about fall fair
-make first-aid kit
Three little birds
Were on my doorstep
Singing sweet songs
A melody pure and sure
Saying
This is our message to you.
* * *
I've gotten into printing out the lyrics of songs I like and analyzing them. Music is poetry, you know? That sounds so hippie, but hey, there's nothing wrong with that! #hippielife with Elinor Beveridge.
Anyway, so, that was Three Little Birds by Bob Marley (AND THE WAILERS!), in the case you're so ill-informed that *cringes sympathetically* you don't know that song. Hopefully, you do.
I have an amazing story! We ate at this place called Land Ho! last night for dinner (yes, exclamation point included), and it's totally stereotypically Cape Cod, New England in general. Everything on the menu was some variation of fried [insert seafood here], and there were all these families and, my favorite, old people just chilling out and having a dandy old time. They happened to have Billy Joel on, which was awesome. And THEN! And THEN! I was just minding my own business and making fun of this guy in the corner who was wearing a blanket over his head and looking like the Sheikh of Cape Cod when it happened! I realized that Land Ho! yes, Land Ho! was playing the oddest song selection. It was alternative and relatively obscure, you know? Anyway, Land Ho! was playing SAY IT AIN'T SO! Throughout the whole restaurant! I almost--to quote Steven Spielberg--vomited from the excitement of it all. It was a happy evening for me.
So I'm staying at the Chatham Bars Inn, in Chatham (no, really?). It's pretty schnazzy. It's really nice and pretty! I like sitting out on the beach and watching the boats, or fishing. I caught a bunch of dismembered crab appendages! It was a fun time. And on Monday school starts. Which is terribly weird, of course. But this year, I have a great new army rucksack, so I'm completely prepared! And we basically bought out all of Uniqlo for my "fall wardrobe." Life's good, you know? Again, more hippie sentiments. I more or less attempted to structure my life this past summer by making to-do lists, so here's mine for when I get home. Not that I'll actually end up DOING anything on it, but y'know the drill. I like to think that I'll be accomplishing something...
To-Dos For When I Get Home
-communicate with Tess about baking/movie-watching! Ahem, Tess.
-load up schnazzy army satchel
-confirm film dates
-get bike
-play tennis
-download podcasts onto phone--This American Life, Skeptoid, Coffee Break, otras lenguas, etc.
-practice MICHEL!
-de-clutter shelves of closet
-develop piéce list
-work. on. calligraphy.
-Know what would be cool? A fish tank with books in it.
-organize desk
-brainstorm for massive bulletin board
-GET the bulletin board, uh-huh
-read L'Oignon (sorry! Sorry! The Onion, mleeeeh)
-go to the Harringtons'
-get more books at book sales
-re-read Bad Boy for school
-wear 1984 shirt--yes folks, I got a 1984 shirt. Brown University bookstore! Ach, the benefits of going to college and not having the obligations of, well, college.
-No Woman No Cry (long story)
-PM Jezzy and tea-at-sunrise
-make stickers/flyers ("If you like [e.g., Simon and Garfunkel], read I Was Aiming for Clever!")
-talk to L & Cat about fall fair
-make first-aid kit
03 September 2013
J'ai une histoire
Writing from Chatham, Cape Cod, on the windowsill, and it smells like gouda. WHERE'S THE MOSS SMELL FROM OUTSIDE, EH?! Who says you have to go inside when it's thundering?! Nature, with the combination of parents and responsible obligations, is just unfair.
* * *
She stood around and watched the rain plink on the porch railing. She didn't suppose it was actually making a sound like that, but water going about PLINKing was a commonly used term. The little splashes on the railing looked like spiders. She supposed a crab analogy would be more appropriate.
She sat in the chair and got soaked to her skin. There was a coating of sand on the back of her calves and thighs where her shorts ended. Her sketching paper grew see-through and then it ripped in places. She watched water drip off her nose by crossing her eyes a little.
She wiggled her sock feet in the flooded water on the porch. The socks made her toes itch a title, but she didn't mind, really. She thought about taking a kayak into the bay while it was raining. She would watch the lobster boats and the lady with the blonde hair who jabbered on about her job, scavenging for clams in the sloppy sand.
Then there was a small burst of thunder. And lightning, the second bolt, soon after, looking like a set of chopsticks crossed over each other, and thunder again. She sighed and smelled it. Smelling was her favorite sense.
She knew it was time to go in. Her parents would be worried. No outside when it was stormy, by herself at least. She walked inside, and her dad turned on the light when she wanted it off, and it smelled like smoked gouda from today's 4:00 aperitif.
She watched the rain behind the shutters and the screen, but it wasn't the same.
She thought maybe the smell was the problem. It was the smell.
* * *
She stood around and watched the rain plink on the porch railing. She didn't suppose it was actually making a sound like that, but water going about PLINKing was a commonly used term. The little splashes on the railing looked like spiders. She supposed a crab analogy would be more appropriate.
She sat in the chair and got soaked to her skin. There was a coating of sand on the back of her calves and thighs where her shorts ended. Her sketching paper grew see-through and then it ripped in places. She watched water drip off her nose by crossing her eyes a little.
She wiggled her sock feet in the flooded water on the porch. The socks made her toes itch a title, but she didn't mind, really. She thought about taking a kayak into the bay while it was raining. She would watch the lobster boats and the lady with the blonde hair who jabbered on about her job, scavenging for clams in the sloppy sand.
Then there was a small burst of thunder. And lightning, the second bolt, soon after, looking like a set of chopsticks crossed over each other, and thunder again. She sighed and smelled it. Smelling was her favorite sense.
She knew it was time to go in. Her parents would be worried. No outside when it was stormy, by herself at least. She walked inside, and her dad turned on the light when she wanted it off, and it smelled like smoked gouda from today's 4:00 aperitif.
She watched the rain behind the shutters and the screen, but it wasn't the same.
She thought maybe the smell was the problem. It was the smell.
28 August 2013
Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan
WARNING: THIS IS NOT FUN STUFF. THIS IS WHAT'S GOING ON IN MY HEAD. YOU MAY NOT LIKE WHAT IS WRITTEN HERE, AND PLEASE DON'T TAKE OFFENSE TO ANY OF IT. JUST A WORD OF WARNING.
I'm so depressed I can't hardly talk about it. See, it's so bad that I put in a double negative... I've really gone astray there. But really, that's an exaggeration. I'm not depressed at all, just saddened, I suppose.
Earlier this evening I went to an orientation back at the hallowed halls of our school (read: heh, I think not), for the new iPads our grade is receiving... and it just got to me so bad. I'd really rather not take a Holden Caulfield approach to life, because, as much as it hurts me to say this, my beloved Holden is just not healthy,but I really was bothered. Like, a lot. When you're at a 2-week sleepaway camp for artsy and intelligent teenagers that are JUST LIKE YOU (meaning they write their own plays in their spare time, and poetry, and write actual snail mail, and paint murals on their kitchen walls, and, above all, tolerate my constant spew of Ouran/Death Note/George Costanza references), followed by a 2-week trip to goddam--oh no--EUROPE, our town is not exactly a sight for sore eyes. And jeez, am I feeling sore right now.
This town is the worst place for me, or anyone who's DIFFERENT. Holden would hate it too. (Don't you love how we're on first-name basis now?) It's just so... stupid. I mean really. That's why this summer was the greatest--I got to get away from all the phoniness and stupidity at least for three months and be with people who are above things like, well, Instagram, and now I'm delving into stuff that I can't post on a public blog, so it'll stay within the pages of my cherished smelly-leather journal instead. And if your beliefs are different than mine, I applaud that, but I'm going to be honest here. I would suggest leaving this page, if you think otherwise. As well as this whole blog. I'm really not trying to say that you, dear reader, are unwelcome in reading this. It's actually the opposite, I love sharing ideas with people! But if you're going to get angry with what I'm saying, I'm attempting to save you from all that bitterness by just coaxing you into moving on with your life. Just like Lemony Snicket would do, hey? And I apologize in advance if you DO feel provoked by this or something, but I'm a writer, and a rather controversial one at that. I speak my mind. So hey, don't say I didn't warn you...
On that happy note, I'm sorry about all that! New paragraph.
So I'm trying to set myself on the right track. I'm going to surround myself with things from France, from Deutschland, from Suisse and Belgium and Luxembourg and Nederland, and from everywhere else that I want to be. And then I won't be here, and I won't get all caught up in it. You know, IT. Indescribable stuff. I simply call it 'it' and that suffices, I guess. I speak in a patchwork of languages now, like, "Maman, danke pour il latte!" or something like that, and that helps. I eat my French granola in a cereal bowl from Monoprix when I get up at 6:00 a.m. to have a run or a bike ride or a poetry session. Or to write short stories about my neighbors, or to write monologues in Spanish or German or Italian. The majority of my school supplies were purchased at various stores (Monoprix, Geant, etc.) in France. Hey, my very location is Maastricht, Nederland! So you see, I'm really all right.
And my soon-to-be Spanish teacher will probably despise me when I start answering stuff on tests en Francais. Oops.
Earlier this evening I went to an orientation back at the hallowed halls of our school (read: heh, I think not), for the new iPads our grade is receiving... and it just got to me so bad. I'd really rather not take a Holden Caulfield approach to life, because, as much as it hurts me to say this, my beloved Holden is just not healthy,but I really was bothered. Like, a lot. When you're at a 2-week sleepaway camp for artsy and intelligent teenagers that are JUST LIKE YOU (meaning they write their own plays in their spare time, and poetry, and write actual snail mail, and paint murals on their kitchen walls, and, above all, tolerate my constant spew of Ouran/Death Note/George Costanza references), followed by a 2-week trip to goddam--oh no--EUROPE, our town is not exactly a sight for sore eyes. And jeez, am I feeling sore right now.
This town is the worst place for me, or anyone who's DIFFERENT. Holden would hate it too. (Don't you love how we're on first-name basis now?) It's just so... stupid. I mean really. That's why this summer was the greatest--I got to get away from all the phoniness and stupidity at least for three months and be with people who are above things like, well, Instagram, and now I'm delving into stuff that I can't post on a public blog, so it'll stay within the pages of my cherished smelly-leather journal instead. And if your beliefs are different than mine, I applaud that, but I'm going to be honest here. I would suggest leaving this page, if you think otherwise. As well as this whole blog. I'm really not trying to say that you, dear reader, are unwelcome in reading this. It's actually the opposite, I love sharing ideas with people! But if you're going to get angry with what I'm saying, I'm attempting to save you from all that bitterness by just coaxing you into moving on with your life. Just like Lemony Snicket would do, hey? And I apologize in advance if you DO feel provoked by this or something, but I'm a writer, and a rather controversial one at that. I speak my mind. So hey, don't say I didn't warn you...
On that happy note, I'm sorry about all that! New paragraph.
So I'm trying to set myself on the right track. I'm going to surround myself with things from France, from Deutschland, from Suisse and Belgium and Luxembourg and Nederland, and from everywhere else that I want to be. And then I won't be here, and I won't get all caught up in it. You know, IT. Indescribable stuff. I simply call it 'it' and that suffices, I guess. I speak in a patchwork of languages now, like, "Maman, danke pour il latte!" or something like that, and that helps. I eat my French granola in a cereal bowl from Monoprix when I get up at 6:00 a.m. to have a run or a bike ride or a poetry session. Or to write short stories about my neighbors, or to write monologues in Spanish or German or Italian. The majority of my school supplies were purchased at various stores (Monoprix, Geant, etc.) in France. Hey, my very location is Maastricht, Nederland! So you see, I'm really all right.
And my soon-to-be Spanish teacher will probably despise me when I start answering stuff on tests en Francais. Oops.
17 August 2013
All the girls around her said she had it coming
I feel like I'm missing a ton of opportunities to take pictures of street fashion while I'm in Europe, but it feels so weird just taking pictures of people just walking the streets. So I'll put down some memorable ensembles that I saw here, in a list, because that's what I love nose. Did I just write nose? Wowww. Most.
STREET FASHION of KÖLN, PARIS, BAYEUX, and LYON
-guitar case covered in travel and Riot Grrrl-esque stickers of a traveling musician girl!
-thick leather belt with denim shorts and a nasty yellow-brown-orange-coloured t-shirt that I personally loved, on a waitress
-neon pink tights, yeah!
-a bowler hat, a red blazer, and black knee socks on a girl walking along the Seine... my dream outfit.
-Andy Warhol banana shirt that this girl Anna from Blue Tree had
-Neon green baggy cargo pants
-red turtleneck sweater and miniskirt (okay, that wasn't street fashion, that was Marcia Brady...)
-Black Butler t-shirt, not that I can really comment, having never actually WATCHED Black Butler, but it was cute
-fairy-like lacy white shawl on a Japanese girl on Champs-Élysées
-navy blue knit dress with patterned oversized sunflowers on it
-sweater and button-down shirt with Peter Pan collar, basically an outfit that I own... but mine's not as spiffy
And, well, plenty of other GREAT things that I either (sadly) forgot or am too tired to remember. It's time to play some poker with my youth hostel buddies--just kidding, I'm not that cool, I mean my brother. So this is goodbye! Au revoir.
And oooh, I almost forgot, but our plans have changed AGAIN. We're going to Geneva tomorrow! Papá and I are bringing our running sneakzzz so we can have run in 4 countries this trip--Germany, France, Switzerland, and possibly Luxembourg later on. I'll be contemplating this as a contender for my Stuff to Do as a Hermit list...
And dayyyyyum, the end of episode 15 of Death Note! Light is a freaking genius.
16 August 2013
You and me are floating on a tidal wave
Hi. I've not written in a while, but it's cool because no one reads this except me anyway, so it's kind of relaxing. Not having the obligation, you know?
Jesus, I need to sleep. Goodbye. Bonne nuit.
We're in the nasty, drab, is-this-actually-France? city of Lyon, and we should have seen the warning signs. It's like the freaking French HOOD or something. It's that bad. It's like a bad German city (no 'ffense, Germans, I love Germany actually). But it's very glittery at night.
We were in Paris for six days, so I guess I got spoiled from that. We then went on to Normandy and stayed at a Chambres d'Hôtes on a farm! It was so cool. I spoke my minimal French with the little girl whose family owned the place, Anaelle, and I made her a friendship bracelet and we hung out with the horses a lot, and the pony, Achum (supposed to emulate the sound of a sneeze). I really didn't know much useful except adjectives (and how would YOU feel if you hung out with someone and all they said was something along the lines of "it's pretty" or "it's funny!" or "it's very fast"?! Frustrating, no?) and the phrase «comme ça» so there were a lot of jokes I made in which the punch line included "comme ça?" Weak. But hey, she laughed! I was a sensation SOMEWHERE.
These'll look great with knee socks! If only I could've gotten the cool pink holographic oxfords from Monoprix, and the Rolling Stones satchel... ah well, there's always tomorrow.
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