fake world

A former friend (and very funny lady) has been keeping a blog about her semester abroad experiences in Aix-en-Provence, France (I will not pretend that I don't read it with near-religious fervor and delight). She wrote recently about feeling like being abroad was like living in a "fake world." It seems, though--after a couple readings-- that it's the abundance of pastries, the meeting new people and seeing new things, and the making time to do stuff that's genuinely interesting that makes her world feel "fake." At the risk of sounding like a Carrie Bradshaw wannabe, I got to thinking about how often I put off what I want to do in favor of everything else, namely, what I should be doing. Life, after all, should be about making a better later now, not the other way around.

In a week in which the weather has been nice and I've been free to enjoy it, I have, more than ever, put off getting those pesky administrative things taken care of: taxes, planning my summer, presentation preparation and assorted assignments. All of those things, for better or worse, are my real life (and they're a real pain). But slowly--and verrry slowly indeed-- I've realized over the course of this week that getting those things done will make it easier to live my "fake life" and create my "fake world" in my real one.

And that feels good.

2009, au revoir

In this, the year of seemingly endless celebrity deaths, the avant-garde going mainstream, and a sizeable amount of personal growth, I'd almost forgotten that the decade was, well, over.

The 00's (aughts?) were definitely my formative years. But I wasn't really, truly cognizant of passing time until well into high school. Until then, life is infinite; when you're 14, only the elderly have sand timers around their necks. And then- bam- something happens and you look down at your own neck, and there you are, sand timer-ed like the rest of them.

In the New Year and well into the next decade (at the end of which I turn 30, dear god), I think I'll end up remembering the 00's as a period of self-realization (to be distinguished, for sure, from self-actualization). Here I am, ready for the next ten years, sand timer around my neck, plans in my back pocket.

Here's to 2010.

the week in news...

My ride! (via Flickr)

This has been quite the whirlwind week. For one, I have a(nother) job that'll last me well into the spring. I'm officially working at the Office of the Director of Graduate Studies. My interviewer told me that I can a) gchat and check Facebook if I ever have downtime (uh...) and b) that he is officially sanctioning-- indeed, welcoming-- any humming that may be a result of my proclivity to song. This job is perfect (although I must say that I was quite startled to have Facebook brought up so casually in a professional setting). I start on Monday.

In other news, I have a red, Ross brand hipster-mobile, name TBA (any suggestions?), birthday gifted by the wonderful Kate Lovely. I rode it around Astoria and found that there is nothing quite as exhilarating or terrifying as bicycling in New York City.

Also, did some community garden-ing this weekend with Kyle. The earth is an amazing home.

I feel really good about how things are going for me right now, in spite of how poor I am and how much work I need to do to be quite where I'd like in life. But finally, I feel like I'm making some progress.

mirror, mirror

If it really is one's reflected self with which one is truly enamored in love, than I've found the kind of rare, coveted dressing room mirror with the gentle lighting and ideal positioning that one certainly does not find nearly often enough. <3

- A

good design, good diction

something along the lines of what I'm going for.

- photo from JAK & JILL BLOG

I used to be someone who aspired to good design with a lot more fervor/passion. Sturdy things with functional beauty, clean lines and sweeping curves interested me. I even began to refashion my vocabulary; where a friend was once described as a deeply loyal and loving girl in search of a beau, she became a "veritable wellspring of love to be given." In an effort to keep words from getting in my way (and from sounding like Tim Gunn), I began to pare down. And I've seen this linguistic pruning begin to carry over into other aspects of my self-presentation. Blazers were replaced by cardigans, cotton traded for flannel-- sometimes at the most inappropriate of seasons (omg, am I turning into a hipster?). I've attributed all these design changes in my life--from my room, to my language, to my self-- to several things:

• Kyle. Someone simple, down-to-earth, interested in Coco Rocha only for the fact that she got on his model sister's nerves during Fall 05 Milan Fashion Week. His urban yogi aesthetic has, even in the short span of two months, had a lot of influence on my general self-presentation.
• The recession. Where I could once pretend I had money to spend on an outrageously priced sweater, I can no longer hide from the fact that I have bills to pay and long-term economic goals (god, I sound like an adul(l)t). For similar reasons of eschewing extravagance, the $10 words have also begun to go out the window (although that sentence may have contradicted this point).
• A general lack of design inspiration. Where am I going, what am I doing, aesthetically? A friend once told me I'd created a very strong and distinct self-mythology. Well where, praytell, is this Goosebumps choose-your-path tale going? Will I come out of the hauntingly hipster Columbia University with some of my preppiness intact, or am I destined to a becardiganed life forever?

I'd like to think that I'll reach an aesthetic middle ground, somewhere where I feel comfortable in both my plaid wool and my starched cotton. Until then, I'll keep pouring over Garance and JAK & JILL and hope that something, anything reaches out to me from this terrifyingly erratic aesthetic abyss.