L'OBSESSION : c'est cool maintenant.

Current obsessions as of late:

1. Wizard People, Dear Reader - Click Here to View on YouTube
Those of you who know me well are aware that I have an unhealthy addiction to the internet and am essentially pursuing an online degree in meme-ology. But despite all my hours of trolling YouTube, LJ, YTMND, and even the occasional short-lived foray into the hellish pornographic pit that is 4chan, I think Wizard People, Dear Reader may be the funniest, most original, most clever thing I have ever seen on teh intarwebz. Meghan Madore introduced me to this delight...essentially, it is a re-telling of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in the author's (Brad Neely) own inappropriate, hilarious, and, at times, surprisingly eloquent style. It was originally an audiotape meant to be played as a soundtrack over the movie, but someone has taken the liberty of syncing up the A/V on YouTube and made this gem available to the WWW. Watching all 34 chapters took me two days, but each one was lol-worthy in its own right. If you only watch one, I recommend Chapter 21: CHRISTMAS YES! in which Ronnie the Bear (aka Ron) and the Wretched Harmony (aka Hermione) stake it out in an insult battle royale.

2. Prints
When I cast a discerning eye over my wardrobe, I don't see a passage to Narnia. If there is, in fact, one back there, it is veiled by a thick curtain of printed fabrics. I cannot stop buying prints. An obsession that once concerned itself primarily with plaid and left other patterns alone, it has now become a full-blown fixation on big, bold florals, Tahitian-inspired tropicals, and a sweeping array of other graphic delights. It doesn't stop at clothes. I see incarnations everywhere of the gorgeous pattern on my matching duvet and curtains from my host mom's house in Paris, and have essentially made it my life goal to someday trouver the same scarlet-and-cream, paisley-and-pheasants print for my OWN matching duvet and curtain set, if it's the last thing I do, dammit. Brb, shoplifting the entire Anthopologie store.

3. OhNoTheyDidnt - Click Here to View on Livejournal
My celebrity blog of choice. Everyone has one, so don't bother lying about it. What
separates ONTD from other worthy and popular opponents such as Perez Hilton is the fact that it's not just news - it's a community, and all the REAL fun lies in the comments section. There is a whole filthy internet sub-culture that bubbles seedily and frothily beneath the pages of ONTD, and I can't get enough of it. Epic late-night posts that go on for 30+ pages over such illustrious events as Aaron Carter's public release of his own cell phone number (dubbed "Call-A-Carter '09") or the latest leak of Vanessa Hudgens nudie pics, hilarious .gifs often posted in response to other posters rather than dignifying them with an actual rebuttal, and frequent wank over such subjects as racism, sexism, and obesity (always accompanied by the obligatory .gif of Michael Jackson chowing down on popcorn) make this place my little corner of internet heaven.

4. Paul Simon
Obviously the more illustrious of the famous duo (what was that other guy's name again? Fargunkle?), Paul Simon has stolen my heart and carted it off to Graceland. I can't get Diamonds on the Souls of Her Shoes out of my head and I can't get Paul off my Pandora playlist as of late.

5. Croques Madames
Still haunted by the memories of the Mt. Olympus of the culinary gods (Paris, France), I eat these friggin' things almost every night for dinner to remind me that all is not lost. Croques monsieurs are a very popular, very simple snack in France, often eaten for lunch and sometimes for a light dinner. They consist of 1 slice of pain de mie (white bread), sometimes a bit of butter or mustard, a slice or two of ham, and a generous sprinkling of grated cheese, usually emmental. The open-faced sandwich is then baked in an oven, heated in a microwave (if you're at the boulangerie) or put in a magical little conveyor-belted oven contraption that works much like a bagel toaster. All options give you an awesome, melty, toasty, bubbly sandwich that is always satisfying and delicious. Put a fried egg on top, and you've got a croque madame. I've been making them without the ham because I'm too poor/miserly to buy pretty much any protein, and I cook them in a frying pan instead of the oven because I'm too lazy to heat the oven, but they turn out just as well. And if you think putting a fried egg on a sandwich is weird, don't knock it til you've tried it.

C'est l'été, on fait la fête!

Summer, comme d'hab, is chugging along swiftly with no intention of slowing down. You think I'd be used to this by now, having gone through "summer syndrome" every year for the past...I dunno, 15 years? And yet every summer, around the end of July, I start repeatedly and astutely declaring, "OMYGAW, I can't believe how fast it's going by! It's almost overrrr!" Well, it's true, dammit.

My weekdays are generally uneventful. I sit at the console desk and listen to Pandora play the same songs over and over (popular playlists for me this summer have been Mika, Lady GaGa, Adele, and the ever-reliable Guster) and occasionally do work. And by occasionally, I mean rarely. I've watched a few good French films...Persepolis was EXCELLENT, really loved that one. Bon Voyage was amusing but I don't know if I'd watch it again. Watched one called When the Sea Rises about a mime/performance artist who falls in love with this vagabondy-type dude...it was weird. There was another film called C.R.A.Z.Y. (which was quite good) which was a coming-of-age story about a gay kid growing up in the 60's/70's. I started watching that one and decided I'd do it without the subtitles, then freaked out when I couldn't understand anything and thought I had lost all my French and was ready to die...then I realized it was Canadian French and that's why I couldn't understand. Durrr.

I had a few weeks where I was really generally productive...played a lot of guitar, was reading a lot, was working on learning Spanish, eating healthy, and was running several times a week. Then I kind of fell off the bandwagon, if one could call it a bandwagon, and I've kind of fallen into this cycle of not getting enough sleep, watching crap movies on YouTube, and drinking too much on too regular a basis. Now I have a cold, which I'm sure I was asking for with my sleep and alcohol habits, so I've made the decision stop being such a lazy slob and get some stuff accomplished for these last couple weeks of summer. Mais on va voir...

I have been getting some reading done, though not as much as I would like. After seeing the 6th Harry Potter movie, I decided there was too much I didn't remember and I needed to re-read the entire series. FABULOUS IDEA. I hadn't read the first two books in ages, and it was so delightful to read them now that I know how the rest of the series ends, especially Chamber of Secrets and anything involving Snape. But I digress. I could talk Harry Potter all day but I know not everyone cares. Otherwise, I'm about halfway through Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (had to take a break...the Hell Sermon brought my Catholic guilt to the surface in a bad way), I'm in the middle of Disgrace, which is excellent thus far, and I intend to read The Omnivore's Dilemma and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by summer's end.

Speaking of reading, I got my book list for the fall. Good God. I have 25+ books to buy! The good news is that I've already read a good chunk of them, including Macbeth, Four Works of Ibsen (had the same book 2 semesters ago! Merde!), Huck Finn, Great Gatsby (this'll be the 3rd time I've studied it...one of my favorites, but still, kind of obnoxious to be reading it AGAIN for school), Catcher in the Rye, My Antonia, The Bell Jar, and Their Eyes Were Watching God. It looks like such a high school reading list...but I'm sure we'll go more in-depth with the books and their literary significance than we ever did in Junior Honors English...despite my wrong love for Mr. Rubin.

I watched Paris, Je t'aime for the first time since coming home from Paris. Shockingly, Erin, Meredith, and I all got through it without weeping, though it made the gaping, France-shaped hole in my brittle heart feel all the more vacant. I think my favorite vignette is still the Montparnasse one, the one with the American who visit Paris alone and narrates in broken, academic French. So sad and funny and lonely all at once! And I thought I didn't like the Natalie Portman one the first time I saw it, but upon seeing it again, I rescind...that was another one of my faves.

I've heard two of the tracks off the upcoming BosTones album, Love You I Do and Missing the War...holy shitskies. They sound phenom. Not going to lie, I'm super psyched to hear my song, Death by Chocolate. I've never heard myself fully produced and auto-tuned to perfection. Should be fun times.

Donc, I need to go get some sustenance, and that sustenance begs to take the form of a delightful Loose Leafs salad. Let it be, man. Let it be.

De faire des choses divers, c'est bon ça!

Every summer, I make some grand goals in favor of productivity and pro-activity in general. These goals are usually effectively abandoned by around June 15 and I end up spending my summer mostly wallowing on the internet, eating, staying up til four in the morning and waking up sometime past noon, eating, watching piss-poor television, examples of which might be What Not to Wear, re-runs of Degrassi, and whatever reality dating/weight loss/rehab show VH1 is hawking at the time. Oh, plus eating. This is not to say that I become some loser recluse in the summer...I always have a job and often hang out with friends, but on days when neither work nor play happens, I always find myself lost in a fetid, slothful cloud of complete non-productivity and it's pretty gross.

This summer, however, has thus far proven to be a glaring exception [knock on wood]. I fully expected to come home from France and be an absolute sad-sack, hating America, pining for my European way of life...but I've been shockingly positive. Normally after a really good experience, I can't think of anything else but going back in time, yearning in futility for something I cannot and never will get back. This time, I'm looking toward the future. I'm taking what I've learned in France, both about myself and the world, and applying it to my life in a realistic way instead of obsessing. The best part is, I'm not even consciously trying to do this. It's just sort of...happening. The extreme depression that I expected never really hit, and while I have my moments every day of missing Paris for some reason or another, I very rarely sit and wallow in that emotion...I acknowledge it, I realize it's normal, I breathe, I look forward.

So what have I been doing? Well don't you worry, I haven't given up the internet. But I've been using it to achieve more productive ends than earning Neopoints or trolling Livejournal communities (though I still spend an inordinate amount of time on OhNoTheyDidnt). I've been attempting to teach myself Spanish using About.com's Spanish lessons. Ghetto, yes, but better than nothing. I've been researching graduate programs, Teach for America, teaching opportunities in other countries, AmeriCorps, and maybe citizenship laws in France. I read the news in French every day and occasionally even in English, a habit I really need to get into.

Outside of the internet, I've been playing guitar every day, trying to watch French films (Persepolis was excellent!), chugging along through Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (afterward, going to need some light reading), and I've started running. RUNNING. Me. I'm serious. I ran three miles the other day! Well, I stopped twice for about a minute to walk, but I otherwise ran the whole thing. You wanna know the last time I did that? Never. Because I am essentially the anti-athlete. Well not anymore! I'm losing these patissérie pounds if it's the last thing I do.

Does all these mean I don't look at my pictures from Europe on an almost daily basis and sigh wistfully? Well...no, ok? I haven't lost all of my pathetic sentimentality. But I'm damn proud of myself for one of the first summers ever! And hopefully by the end of August, I'll be a little slimmer, a little more well-read, a little closer to speaking some semblance of the Spanish language, a little more informed, and a little more musical. After all, it's all about baby steps.

Boston, chez moi

My family and friends have probably had more than enough of me complaining about how much I miss Paris, ranting about how great it is, and bemoaning the inferiority of America. I have yet to blog about my thoughts on the end of the Paris program and return to the USA (oh, it's coming, don't you worry), but I decided to take today to talk about somewhere quite near and dear to my heart: Boston.

Last night, I was going for a run, my latest attempt at a fitness routine. With my iPod set to the motivating beats of Lady Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas, I traversed the Harvard Bridge and followed the Charles toward Allston. As someone who is perenially out of shape, I was shocked at how well I was doing and how enjoyable I was finding the run itself. It was fast approaching twilight, and the dusky glow of post-sunset lingered in the sky and I relished in filling my lungs with the fresh, moist air of a New England summer's day past.

As I made the loop around the BU Bridge, however, I had to stop and take in the scene. Like the image on a postcard, the Boston skyline stretched before me, an identical city mirrored just below it in the river. The lights of the buildings burned gold, silver, and bronze, glittering on a backdrop of an indigo ombré sky and dancing in the blackness of the Charles. The Zakim, bright and spindly, shone like a jewel nestled amidst the humble Boston skyscrapers and, off to the right, a large patch of sky was illuminated, thanks, of course, to Granite City Electric, by the explosive lights of Fenway Park. The red and white glimmers of cars crawled across the Harvard Bridge in the distance, looking like a carnival parade in the colorful evening. Above all, in the shadow of the Prudential building, glowed the iconic neon beacon of Kenmore Square, the Citgo Sign. The taste, smell, and feel of summer permeated the atmosphere entirely, and I was suddenly consumed with one pulsing thought: I love Boston.

I once had a professor who, upon the first day of class, asked us to give him our personal definition of "home". He said that many of us have more than one home, or for some, "home" changes depending on where we are. "Home" is transient. "Home" is more than physical. And though I have always had pride for Boston as the representation of my state, of my New England, of my "homeland", I have never looked upon it with the reverance and love and awe that I did last night. My definition of home changes depending on my mood. Sometimes I miss my family and long for the home of my childhood - Dighton, Rehoboth, Swansea, Providence - the familiarity of Southeast Mass where I grew up. Other times, I romantically consider my home to be a city in which I lived for just a short time, but still holds my heart and surrounds me in my dreams - Paris. But sometimes, in the city where I live, in this place of transition and routine and humility and grandeur all at once, I feel that comforting inward sigh that simply breathes "I'm home". Boston, with all its flaws, with its horrible public transportation system and its obnoxious overflow of college students and its horrible drivers, is, at least for this summer, my home.

And I love that dirty water.

Le 4 Juillet, l'avenir, le passé, et aujourd'hui.

Fourth of July was a lovely experience, as always. I opted out of staying at the frat for the weekend, despite the fact that I've never seen the fireworks and the Pops in Boston on the 4th, because I simply couldn't miss out on the annual family festivities down the Cape. Comme d'hab, I overstuffed myself with food, enjoyed the antics of my intoxicated relatives, hung out with my favorite cousins (whom I miss like crazy), ate jello cake in the shape of the USA (our undying tradition), played taboo, went to the Poppanessett marketplace and bought penny candy with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a 5-year-old, and enjoyed a better-than-average fireworks display on the beach. In a word, delightful.

On my mom's side of the family, which is quite a close-knit unit, we have 12 cousins, and the fourth of July is usually the only time we're all together at once. With each passing year, however, it gets a little weirder to see how everyone's grown up. When we were kids, it seemed like we were stuck in this time capsule that kept us young forever. But now, even the youngest of the cousins, the one we used to call "Baby Stephanie", is 14 and wearing makeup and high heels! And the oldest, Andrew, just turned 26 and is getting married next summer. It's all pretty unfathomable. It even seems to be hitting the adults rather hard...multiple people questioned me when I popped open a beer during dinner - I thought I was going to have to break out my ID. My little cousin Jill, the one who used to annoy the shit out of us when we were young and never seemed to grow up, is now learning to drive. It's just all rather bizarre...we're all still clearly separated into "kids" and "adults" at these family events, but as the years pass (and quickly), we're suddenly sitting together as two or three generations of adults. Basically, hates it.

Speaking of growing up, I spend 9 hours a day on the computer at work, and I've been attempting to use that time to research postgraduate options. POST-GRADUATE?! How did this happen? How did my impending graduation slip so surreptitiously under my nose? Sneaky little bitch.

I've been exploring the following options: applying to the foreign service in the US State Department, grad school in the UK, Teach For America, Peace Corps, AmeriCorps, and, as my longshot, grad school in France. Or I could always just try to get a big-girl job straight off the bat, but I think I'm going to attempt to delay the dirty real world for as long as possible...anything that will keep me out of the JOB-MARRIAGE-KIDS-HATEMYLIFEFOR20YEARS-RETIREMENT track. God, I'm such a typical Milennium Generation Baby it hurts. Whatever. Someday I'll realize I'm not a unique and special snowflake whose hopes and dreams are important and attainable. But today is not that day. If only I had been raised French...I would already know what I was doing for the rest of my life and would be cemented forever in a career path without the option of changing my mind. Ok, so that might suck. But at least I would be French, making me at least 500% better than everyone else by default.

Explication

Having recently returned from France and absolutely ignoring my blog that I meant to keep while I was there, I've decided to try to make up for my negligence and start blogging again. Of course, I'm not going to have anything particularly interesting to talk about because I'm not off gallivanting in foreign countries anymore, but I also have a lot more time to write now that I'm home and spend nine hours a day online thanks to my ridiculously easy but overwhelmingly unproductive job at the Geddes Language Center.

I have always enjoyed writing and have also always been preoccupied with, even fixated upon, with the preservation of memories. I see my former blogs as a sort of snapshot of myself at various points of my life. I love being able to look back and see where I've come from, how I've changed, and how my former self has shaped who I am now and who I will become in the future - in a way that a photographic snapshot never could. This blog serves to further my addiction to the analysis of self development and obsession with temporality that has always driven me to hoard memories like a mental packrat. This may or may not be a good thing. Most likely not. It's going to happen regardless.

So, to explain the blog's title: The Coffee Milk Crossroads. I'm fast approaching my senior year of college and finding myself at yet another crossroads in life at which the familiar avenue of Academia intersects the fast-paced and frightening freeway of adulthood - the storied "Real World Road". But having returned from Paris with a fresh set of eyes that see the world anew, a heart that has been both strengthened and made vulernable by my experiences, and a more developed sense of awareness and direction, I find myself at another set of crossroads, one where questions of morality, self-worth, future plans, and cultural identity point me down many different paths.

So, why "Coffee Milk"? When I was a kid, coffee milk was a regular staple of existence. Every day at lunch, you made your choice between coffee, chocolate, or plain milk; the obvious selection was always coffee. But until I got to college, I never realized that coffee milk was something that we only drink in Southeast Massachusetts and Rhode Island. This simple revelation threw me for a loop - this beverage that had been such a mundane and reliable part of my childhood now became a piece of my cultural and regional identity without my even knowing it, just like saying "wicked" and "bubbler". As I've come to encounter a wider and wider spectrum of people and places, I've learned more about my own identity as a New Englander, an American, a woman, an only child...all of the perameters by which I could define myself. But now, at this crossroads of personal and professional development, I'm questioning more and more what I want my identity to be.

Through the progression to independent adulthood, I'm naturally growing farther from my parents, my family, my hometown, and my humble coffee milk roots. My definiton of "home" now has such varied connotations. The old cliché goes, "Home is where the heart is". But my heart lies in so many places and with so many people. Will I remain true to my New England roots, even if I decide to move to a different part of the country after I graduate? Will I remain true to my American roots, even if I decide to move abroad later in life? How does my childhood self relate to myself as of now, if at all? Is all of this even worth thinking about? Probably not. But it wouldn't be me if I didn't.

So that's your introduction. Expect more rambling entries such as this one in the future - I've got no theme for this blog - just life and thoughts and random foolishness.