Leaving generations of children obeese and scared of clowns

http://blogofhilarity.com/2008/10/02/the-7-most-completely-bizarre-mcdonalds-commercials/

Follow the link and enjoy a small sample of some of the most fucked up McDonald's Commercials ever produced.

Obama v McCain

These were generated by an automated script using the RSS feeds from Obama’s blog and McCain’s campaign RSS feed. The more often a word is used, the larger it appears. (Click on them to see a larger image.)

Interesting.

Hello. My name is Shelley, and I'm a knuckle cracker

I crack my knuckles. A lot. To the point that it has become a detriment to myself and those around me. Laura (work colleague/housemate) has bought earplugs. I'm not kidding. In light of such drastic measures, I thought it might be time to try to stop. So I did what all people in the modern age do: I went to the internet for advice.

I found a rather interesting article on Wiki (of course).

There is quite a bit in that article I find note worthy, particularly this: "Truly excessive knuckle popping, especially accompanied by the popping of other joints in the body, can be an early sign of more serious anxiety disorders."

They (Wiki and a few other resources I've read through) seem to be convinced that all nervous habits, such as knuckle cracking, nail biting, hair twirling, etc, all stem from some deeply seeded anxiety and that the easiest way to stop is to pinpoint said anxiety and take steps to reduce it. There is no doubt that I fall under the ‘excessive’ and ‘multiple joint’ categories, but I don’t feel as though I am particularly ‘nervous’. Could it be possible that I have some horrible anxiety disorder and not even know about it? Could it be the left over symptoms of a childhood anxiety disorder that has since resolved itself?

There also seems to be a widely held belief that the best, and perhaps only, way to stop yourself from knuckle cracking is through some basic behavioral techniques.

From the perspective of an addict, I think both of the above theories are crap. Cracking my knuckles feels good. This is why I started doing it. I continue to do it for the same reason, and because it is such an ingrained behavior that I do it subconsciously. Further, if I don't do it, it causes great discomfort in my joints - hence why I don’t/can’t stop. It'd be like telling someone they can only breathe once every 30 seconds. A person could do that, and they could live like that, but it would be uncomfortable and unnatural.

My question is open to anyone, but I am particularly interested in what John and Mike (and any other psych kids out there), think of this. How do I stop cracking my knuckles?

I hold no reservations that I would be able to do this cold turkey. So, as a first step, I have chosen a compromise. There are five different ways I can crack my knuckles. I am restricting myself to one. We'll see how that goes...

This, of course, does not take into account my neck, wrists, back, knees and toes, which I also pop on a regular basis. Baby steps people, baby steps.

breaking the silence

I realized today that I’ve had a couple of rather significant changes in my life over the last three weeks that you folks may or may not be aware of.

First up, I’ve got a new home and, despite any fears and hesitations, it’s absolutely awesome. You may remember my last house – i.e. the box in Camden. I loved it, but the size and plumbing (to put it nicely) left something to be desired. My new house is a two storey, three bedroom flat with two – count them two – bathrooms. I have one of those huge overhead rain shower things. I am still basking in its glory. The whole place is newly remodelled, modern design and furnishings, super spacious and just generally nice. The girls I live with are lovely, hilarious and Australian. They both cook well and often and I take full advantage of this. We get along well, though their love for crappy TV rivals that of Brandan. I thought my previous roommate had trained me fully in the realm of reality TV, but these girls put Brandan’s TV obsessions to shame. It’s almost terrifying. I’ve been watching a lot of Girls of the Playboy Mansion and Run’s House. Go one, judge me. I dare you. I’m really very happy with my current living situation. I’ve got some picture somewhere that I may get around to posting for those that are curious.

Next up, I’ve got a new job. As most of you know, I’ve left the law firm for an architect’s firm. What most of you don’t know is that my boss (from both the law firm and now the new place) resigned last week leaving me in a slightly different position than I ever expected. It really sucks that she’s gone – she was a great boss to have – but the company is now forced to give me a lot more responsibility than they otherwise would have. I’m now directly involved in the rebranding of the firm; from deciding the new name up to designing the look and feel of the new brand. I am also moving a lot of the design and production work in house. I spent last week putting together the interim report which will be published next week. I am a hell of a lot busier now than I ever have been at work, but I think that’s a good thing and I’m kind of enjoying it (for the time being at least). It’s kind of worked out to be a good opportunity for me, even though I miss my lovely boss.

Other news: I’ve got a cold and I miss my car something fierce.

New music obsession: Regina Specktor “That Time” and “Fidelity”

New music disappointment: I heard “Paper Planes” on the radio the other day and, I suspect due to the excessive street violence in London, they have removed the the gun sound effects in the chorus and replaced them with some guy shouting “click click click... ching... BOOM”. It just doesn’t do it for me.

Iritis

I have a made up disease. At least, it sounds completely made up.

I saw two doctors who didn't know what was wrong with me before I went to a third who said "Hmm. Well, I think you have.... Iritis!". Essentially, my eyeball is swollen. Weird, right? I have to use steroid eye drops for a month as well as a dilation drop - which means I have one giant pupil and one normal one. I look like an Alien. If you know me, you'll know what a problem this is for me.

Creepy eyes indeed, Lauren.

Love is watching someone die

That song came on last night and it brought me to tears. The thought of my grandmother holding my granddad’s hand as he died is heart wrenching. Yet, at the same time, there is something beautiful in the idea of her watching her husband of fifty-seven years take his last breath. I don’t think lucky is the right word, but maybe it is. My granddad used to tell us about the first time he met my grandmother; he went straight home and told his parents he had met the woman he was going to marry. My grandmother was, as she puts it, “less sure”. I’m not sure what he did to convince her, or if she even needed much convincing, but fifty-seven years later, I think about the time they have shared together, the things they have accomplished together, the life they have experienced together, and the love they had for each other up until the very end and, well, I think I would wish that kind of luck on to everyone I know.

There was a brief moment during John and Lauren’s wedding reception in which Jeremy and I thought one of us might need to make a speech. While it never panned out – which is most likely for the best as I had no idea what to say at the time – it made me think later on about what I would have said given that opportunity. It’s important for me to let all of you know (you who read this and care about where I am and what I am doing even though we don’t talk every day) that I consider you my family. I’ve grown up with you, I’ve laughed with you, I’ve cried with you, I’ve argued with you, I’ve learned from you and I’ve probably broken several laws with you. I am so proud of the things we have all managed to accomplish and I sometimes can’t believe we haven’t completely fucked it up. This whole ‘life’ thing can be a little complicated and I am infinitely grateful to have had you all to help me through it. I don't mean to be overly sentimental, it's just that, in light of recent events, I wanted to take a moment to let you all know how honored I am to be your friend. That’s all. Love!

So who’s gonna watch you die?

Brecon Beacons and various other things

I spent the weekend in the Brecon Beacons, a national park in the North of Wales. We went horseback riding with a group called "Bushwhackers", which (as you may have been able to tell from the name) is not an entirely serious tour group. We spent maybe five hours horseback riding on Saturday. It was gorgeous. We rode through a tiny village on our way to the park, where we rode through rolling fields and then over a mountain. My horses name was Evan. He was my bud. It was a lot of fun, if not a little painful (my ass still hurts). However, we then spent about twelve hours drinking. Of the whole group, there were about five nationalities represented. We combined all our various rules for Kings and created a masterpiece of a drinking game. The whole weekend was great and there are a few photos up on facebook if you're interested.

Last Thursday, I went to a music festival in the Shoreditch area. Of the 100+ bands that were playing that night, I had only ever heard of one: The Octopus Project from good ole' Austin, Texas. They were great and made me feel at home. I saw a couple of other bands that night which I picked based solely on their names. The first one was The Strange Death of Liberal England. They were good. The second was The Keyboard Choir. They were freakin' awesome. They were literally five keyboards and a conductor (please see below). It cracked me up.

Summer is slowly starting to creep its way into London. We had some glorious weather last week; 80's and sunny. I've spent as much of my last three weekends outside as possible. I particularly enjoy taking a book to the park and sitting in the grass. Apparently, so does the rest of the city. Since the sunny weather, I have discovered my favourite thing about British people: give them a little bit of warmth and a patch of grass and they all get naked and eat ice cream. (please see below). It's hilarious and wonderful.

Creative Writing: read the second first.

The U.S.A. is repossessing the U.K.'s repossession.
A message from someone considerably less famous than John Cleese…


To the citizens of the United Kingdom:

In reply to your recent allegation of American incompetence and neglect of social norms and customs, please find laid out below a point for point response to each of your illegitimate claims.

First things first, lay off Kansas. Sure, it's not exactly a glamorous state, but Kansas was home to both George Washington Carver and Paul Rudd. Do you like peanut butter and emotionally immature gender neutral romantic comedies? Then give Kansas a break.

Secondly, we already hold a national survey to determine the populations' level of political awareness. It's called the general election, and 64% of us took part in 2004. If the UK finds this turnout unacceptably low, and I can already hear the “whinging” from across the Atlantic Ocean, I would suggest you address the matter of your own electoral letdown of 61% in 2005 before taking issue with ours.

1, 2, & 3. American English (which will henceforth be referred to as simply 'English') has far fewer regional accents and dialects than British English, and can therefore be regarded as being much closer to a standard form. For your reference, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines 'standard' as something established by authority, custom, or general consent as a model or example. Some of your “accents” are so impossible to understand that they can scarcely be labeled as “language”, let alone any form of standard English. Also, please take note that adding extra, unnecessary letters to certain words is pompus and inefficient. This is yet another example of our impressive ability to streamline everything. Why type "doughnut" when "donut" is so much faster and less ridiculous? The next time you see fit to develop an operating system(or any piece of software) worthy of worldwide distribution, you can feel free to impose your spell checker on people. Until then, it's "realize" and "center", best you just get used to it. Also, on a somewhat unrelated note, we already know God Save the Queen. It's called My Country Tis of Thee.

4. The UK is just jealous of our eleven bank holidays to your eight. Besides, everyone likes fireworks and you know it. If you do not, I am suddenly not surprised that you live in England.

5. As 70% of the American population supports stricter gun control, we actually agree with you on this point. We have logged your complaint and will bring this to the attention of the other 30% in a timely manner. And another thing. If your barristers spent less time dressing up in wigs, you might feel inclined to make more use of them too.

6. We're ignoring this comment as it is simply far too silly. I will make an agreement with you, though. When your policemen cease wearing those absolutely ridiculous hats (I won’t even get into the guys in the red coats), we’ll consider carrying around vegetable peelers.

7. You may think your cars are more efficient than ours, but we know ours are more aesthetically pleasing. Case and point::

American Made Car














British Made Car














Of course, some of you might cite Aston Martin as the pinnacle of British automotive engineering. I would concede that they make a fine automobile, but then I would kindly remind you that they are owned by Ford, which means that once again, we, the Americans, have taken something you were careless with and seen it swiftly groomed to perfection (See: English language).

8. If it's all the same to you, we'll keep our infrastructure and units of measurement as is. We do just fine with Fahrenheit as the majority of us are capable of understanding numbers higher than 50.

9. This is why we got rid of the monarch - so we wouldn't be Royally screwed over gas prices.

10. Crisp isn't a food product, it's an adjective. In the good ole' U S of A we name our products after verbs, like sane people. When you fry a potato you end up with, you guessed it, a fry. Perfectly logical. Not to mention the fact that although a thicker-cut, English-style fried potato wedge is a popular dish in most Commonwealth countries, the thin style of french fries has been popularized worldwide by the US (please see the definition of "standard" above).

11. The United States of America would like to take this opportunity to state that the views and opinions of the Mass Production Breweries within our borders are expressly those of the Breweries and do not reflect the views and opinions of the country as a whole. In our defence, we would like to cite the Steam Brewery of California, as well as the Rogue Brewery of Colorado. We would also like to take a moment to point out the popularity of Budweiser within the UK. Shame on us? Shame on you.

12. According to the filmsite They Shoot Pictures Top 1000 Films, which collects votes from well over 1600 different film lists, there is only one British director listed in the Top 10 films of all time as of December 2007. (Well done, Alfred.) How’s about when you start to contribute more than 10% to the world's film industry, we'll think about including you in more Hollywood blockbusters. You've got to give a little to get a little. Also, isn’t Hugh Grant British? He’s in pretty much every movie over here. You can have him back, if you really want him, but we’re definitely keeping Paltrow.

13 & 14. You play a sport that takes three to five days to finish one match because the players are all faffing about sipping tea and enjoying little finger sandwiches with the crust cut off. And you call us nancies?

15. Lee Harvey Oswald. Apparently Google hasn’t made it into main stream British culture. This is forgivable, as it is our understanding you all still live in isolated villages of thatched-roof houses tending sheep and growing potatoes (or is the potato thing Ireland? All the same to us!).

16. The IRS has a hard enough time getting Americans to pay our own taxes (see: Wesley Snipes). If you want to have a crack at it, you're welcome to it.

17. We see where you're going with the cookies and cake angle. And, although we're a bit hesitant of the tea aspect of it all, we're intrigued by this "tea time" of yours. However promising this idea may be, it will have to be over promptly at 5 pm, as this is Happy Hour.


God Bless the USA.

Thanks for all of the great TV,
The Committee for American Retort






Britain is Repossessing the U.S.A.
A Message from John Cleese


To the citizens of the United States of America:


In light of your failure to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.>> Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas , which she does not fancy).

Your new prime minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: You should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.

1. Then look up aluminium, and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

2. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix -ize will be replaced by the suffix -ise. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

3. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as 'like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as US English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell- checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of -ize. You will relearn your original national anthem, God Save The Queen.

4. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

5. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

6. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

7. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

8. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

9. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline)-roughly $6/US gallon. Get used to it.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

11. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting Nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of British Commonwealth - see what it did for them.

12. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie McDowell attempt English dialogue in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

13. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies). Don't try Rugby - the South Africans and Kiwis will thrash you, like they regularly thrash us.

14. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

15. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

16. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

17. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 pm with proper cups, never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; strawberries in season.

God save the Queen.

Regards,
JC

Cheese it, the fuzz!

I was awoken at 1:00 a.m. Monday morning as every single buzzer in my apartment building roared to life. These buzzers are, at the best of times, obnoxiously loud. Being woken up by a symphony of them nearly gave me a heart attack. My neighbour, Charles, took the initiative to find out what was going on. As soon as he lifted the latch to our main door, he was pushed aside by ten armed police officers.

All I heard was Charles informing the officers that "the stairs only go up one flight" and an officer responding "GET BACK IN YOUR FLAT!". As they clamoured up the stairs I, being half asleep and partially nude, had a sudden moment of panic; convinced I was about to be exposed to several members of Scotland Yard as the burst into my apartment looking for God knows what. Of course, this was not the case. The band of bobbies stopped on the first flight and turned into our strange courtyard (more like an enclosed alleyway) and searched the 5'x10' area much longer than you would think necessary for a 5'x10' area. I then heard them say something to the affect of "All clear, get back to the street" and they were gone.

The next day, I asked Charles if he knew what the hell that was all about. He shrugged and said "they wanted to get to the roof to arrest two Chinese woman in bathrobes".

I can now proudly say I have survived my very first police raid. I live in an interesting place.

Shelley

I've always held that I have a pretty crap name. I mean, Shelley? It's so awkward. It's only half a name, really. Everyone always asks if it's short for Michelle. No! If my name was Michelle, why would I want to go by Shelley? It's a name for a turtle, not a people.

My dad picked my name and has always justified it by saying "it's a proper British name". Didn't do me a lot of good - until now. I usually cringe when I hear people say may name. It always feels awkward to me. But, here in London, spoken with an accent, my name sounds normal! It's kind of nice.

Anyway, that was pointless. Here's a chart I found:

This is sort of hard to read, so I'll summarize. My name has not been popular since the late 50s, early 60s. It's been in steady decline ever since. Way to fight the trend, dad!

How do you feel about your name?

Funny Games U.S.

Has anyone heard of this or, God forbid, seen this? I think it's important to state upfront that it's not a bad movie. I only include the "God forbid" because you are all dear friends of mine who I don't want to see mind-fucked.

Let me explain.

Funny Games U.S. is a shot for shot remake of an Austrian film of the same name (minus the U.S. part, obviously). It opens on a happy little family - Mother, Father, and Son - on their way to their luxurious lake house in a well-to-do gated community. They quickly run into two young men, who are "guests" of their neighbours. The young men climb over their fence to ask if they can borrow some eggs. After what seems like a painstakingly long conversation - just as you start to scream inside your head "GET OUT! Get them out!" - the father's leg is broken and the whole family is gagged and bound. The rest of the movie is a truly disturbing depiction of these people desperately trying to survive. It's not a fun movie to watch. You will not enjoy yourself. You will cringe. You'll feel disgusted. But, it's a well made movie. It's well written, it's beautifully acted and it's well shot.

I hated it.

But, not for the reasons you might think. The theatre I was in started with maybe sixteen people. By the end of the movie, at least a third of them had walked out. I think these people were turned off by the violence and by the nature of the story. I didn't necessarily mind that (though it bothered me (because I'm human)). What really got to me was the way the movie gets into your head. The plot of the movie revolves around these two sadistic kids playing "games" with this capture family. But, what you don't necessarily realize throughout the film is that these guys are really playing a game with you, the viewer. There are a couple of moments where the lead sadistic kid breaks the fourth wall and talks directly to the audience. Asking us "who's side are you on" and inviting you to take part in the bet. At another point, when you think there might actually be hope for the family, he tells you "neither of us want it to go this way". A subtle remark that could be taken as "neither of the young men" or "neither the young men nor the audience" (I'm arguing the later here). At the end of the movie the kid stares straight into the camera with this insanely sick smile and it's not until that moment that you realize you've lost. You sat through the whole movie. You watched them kill that family, and that's what they wanted. Maybe you even wanted them to kill that family. The whole time they are daring us to make them stop, to walk out, to keep it from happening. But, by sitting there and watching it, we let it happen. This is confounded by the fact that it's a remake. A shot for shot remake. It's not like you didn't know what you were getting yourself into, if only you took the time to find out. It's kind of hard to explain, and I don't feel I am necessarily doing a good job. It's the only movie I can think of that has actually made me feel violated. I felt tricked. And I felt dirty.

Maybe that's just me. Maybe everyone else who sees it won't think twice about it. But I thought it was an interesting psychological commentary. I mean, we're all voyeurs - these movies are made because we like to watch people get hurt (or wrecked, or blown up, or eaten by zombies). But this movie takes that to a whole knew level. It's too real in it's simplicity and straight forward approach. It draws you in. It doesn't necessarily feel like a movie. In the same respect, I find it interesting that the collapse of the fourth wall doesn't take you out of the movie, as is usually the case. It actually brings you into it even more, which I think can be attributed to the over all style of the film.

I don't know. I'm kind of rambling at this point. I'll leave it at this: on the one hand, I did not enjoy this movie and would never recommend it. On the other, I found it very interesting/intelligent and would recommend it to a certain kind of person. That means this review is completely worthless and you'll have to decide for yourself if you want to watch it. If you do see it, let me know what you think.

It's the best friends that need you

If you'd like to hear some of the more memorable exploits of my college life as told by some of my favorite people, you can check out a series of nine clips on youtube that Blair put together for me for my birthday.



I have to say, this is one of the best birthday presents ever. It made me so very happy - and sad - and I love it. It is a bit disconcerting, however, that the majority of the stories revolve around me being embarrassingly drunk. Fond memories, indeed.

From a monstrous email to Germ:

I've cracked my knuckles, stretched out the arms, and am ready to type. This is going to be a long one…

I can safely say Rome is the greatest place I have ever been. Having been to Italy twice now, I may even go so far as to say it's my favourite country I have yet to have the pleasure to visit. There is something about the culture - a certain vibe - that I can't seem to get enough of. If I spoke Italian, I could happily live there. Maybe I'll try to teach myself some of the language…
We arrived around 7 o'clock Tuesday night. As you know, Darren was gimp-tastic, so we didn't do too much walking around that night. I wanted him to rest up for the two walking tours we had scheduled the next day. There was no way I was going to let him crap out on me - not in Rome. That night, we had an amazing dinner at a little place not far from our hotel. I think one of my favourite things about vacations - particularly in Italy - is that food becomes an event. We sat outside this little restaurant for nearly four hours nibbling and sipping away. For dessert, we shared some sort of apple cinnamon meringue custard pie thing. We tried to get the waiter to explain to us exactly what it was, but we never figured it out. All I know is that it was delicious.

Wednesday, we got up bright and early and went over to the Castle of the Angels. Rather unfortunately, with Darren's gimpness, we didn't have the opportunity to walk from point A to point B, which I think would have been the way to go. Instead, we cabbed it everywhere, which got particularly expensive but was necessary. The Castle was really cool. The guide book I had with me (what? I'm the greatest tourist ever, and you know it) described the structure as a veritable hamburger of history. The place started as a mausoleum for Hadrian (I think) and then had bits and pieces added on for each of it's new uses. It spent most of it's life as a Papal stronghold for treasures, papers, and prisoners. One of the popes even walled himself up in it for a while when he thought his life was at risk. Because of this, there was a really crazy mix of run down Castle rooms next to wildly adorned rooms gilded and covered from floor to ceiling in frescos. I have never spent so much time admiring ceilings in my life as I did in Rome. They were all about the ceiling decorations. The castle had an adorable little café tucked away on one of the top levels. We sat and had a coffee while enjoying the views of the city. It was, I think, a pretty splendid way to start my first day in Rome.

We had the first of our guided tours at one. We hobbled our way down towards the Vatican (and I say "we" hobbled because I did develop a sort of sympathy limp) and proceeded to get incredibly lost. Well, actually, we weren't lost. I knew exactly where we were - I just didn't know where we were suppose to meet the guide. I had also managed to forget the piece of paper with said guides number on it. This is where I cried. Silly? Yeah. But I was really truly horribly upset that we had missed the tour and thought that I had completely ruined out trip within the first twelve hours. Fortunately, (after being incredibly rude to my mom on the phone because she can't work computers (for which I later apologised profusely)) I got the number and was able to get in touch with Matthew, our tour guide. It turns out, our "group" tour consisted of just Darren and I, so we hadn't missed anything nor had we been holding anyone up. So we met up with Matthew and he took us into the Vatican. Matthew is a Canadian Art History major studying within the Papal schools. In short, he knows absolutely everything you would ever want to know about anything within the Vatican walls. I could not have asked for a better guide (and he was pretty cute). We managed to get Darren a wheelchair, which was good for him and fun for me; I let him go roll down a lot of ramps and pushed him into a lot of walls. As far as what we saw, I am kind of at a loss for words. This is true with everything I saw - it was really just too incredible to take in.

Have you been inside the Vatican? I am going to assume you have and just start rambling about my favourite things. Again, the ceilings (in particular the Sistine Chapel - oh my sweet Jesus that's the definition of humbling) were mind-boggling. The Map Chamber was incredible. The Tapestry Hallway was amazing. All the statues, and tombs, and that giant bath tub! In the same room as the giant bath tub, is this absolutely amazing mosaic floor. Matthew explained how this Vatican found this floor in an ancient villa in South Italy and, since they liked it, they ganked it and brought it back with them. Apparently, that's how the Vatican got most of their stuff; through pillaging. I think my absolute favourite thing inside the Vatican had to be Raphael's
School of Athens. Freshman year, I took a ancient art history course and the School of Athens was one of the paintings we talked the most about. I have studied, in great detail, every inch of that piece of artwork and taken several tests specifically about this one piece of art. And there, in the Vatican, I turned a corner and came face to face with it. It was just there on the wall, or rather, it was the wall. It wasn't behind glass, it wasn't framed, it wasn't cordoned off by any security. It was just there. The freakin' School of Athens. I could have touched it if I had wanted to (but I obviously didn't as the last thing I would want to do is ruin some of the greatest work ever produced by touching it with my grubby, unworthy, hands). That pretty much just bowled me over. Even more than the Sistine Chapel. Don't get me wrong, that was indescribably amazing as well, but seeing that equally famous (if not more so) work did not have nearly the same effect on me. I also got really annoyed by all the people who used flash photography (that destroys frescos!) and insisted on talking very loudly even after guards asked them nicely to show respect and refrain from speaking in the chapel. I hate tourists - or, rather, I hate people who don't appreciate what they are experiencing. Oh! Speaking of: as we were leaving the Raphael rooms and heading towards the chapel I over heard another tour group conversation that went a little something like this:

Woman: What's back there? (indicating towards the Raphael rooms)
Tour Guide: Oh, nothing, just more museum. You don't need to see that, we go to the Sistine Chapel now.

JUST MORE MUSEUM?! I wanted to turn around and grab that woman by the shoulders and insist she DID need to see that. In retrospect, I probably should had - well, not grab her by the shoulders, but at least let her know what she was missing. Matthew said that a lot of the tour guides that take groups through there act like that. Apparently, they get paid more the more tours they do, so they rush everyone through. Again. I am so glad we found Matthew. After the Vatican Museums and the Chapel, we were walked through St. Peter's church. I now know this is the single largest church in the world, with St. Paul's in London (which we will climb to the very top of and look out over the city) coming in second. The Vatican has actually taken the time to mark along the centre aisle the lengths of the other large churches in the world just to show how much bigger theirs is. This is where I made an accidental penis joke and told Matthew that the Vatican, of all people, should know it is the size of the church that matters. I was going for a "it's the size of the faith" thing, but it came out really dirty and I felt bad for having accidentally blasphemed in the world's largest church. We then learned about how the Vatican found St. Peter's bones directly below the centre alter in the church after centuries of looking for his tombs in the surrounding fields. I find this a little too convenient and don't think I buy into it, but it's a good story nonetheless. Another good story: a crazy dude came into the church with a hammer and started pounding away at Michelangelo's Piety, knocking off an arm, a nose, and a few other chunks of beautiful artwork before security was able to tackle him. In the chaos, a bunch of tourist grabbed the pieces of broken marble and ran off with them. First off, who the hell strolls into a church and destroys ancient masterpieces for no apparent reason?! Secondly, who the hell then STEALS pieces of said masterpiece?! The Pope then issued a release in which he kindly requested that anyone who had a piece of the Piety return it to the church, and there would be no action taken against them. I think, even if you aren't religious, you sort of HAVE to obey the Pope. Apparently, a lot of other people agree with me on that one and every single piece of missing marble was returned and they were able to restore the sculpture. Unfortunately, they now keep it behind bullet proof glass and you can't get as good of a look at it as you could before.

We said our goodbyes to Matthew, and headed to our second group tour of the day. This one was a night tour of the city and, again, we found ourselves as the only members of the "group". This time, our guide was an (also cute) Irish writer named Shane, who just happened to know a lot about antiquity - and I mean A LOT. The sheer knowledge this guy has was seriously overwhelming. He asked us up front how much we already knew about Rome and how much we wanted to know. We explained we knew the basics and were really interested in knowing as much as he could tell us. This wasn't a mistake, per say, but he did then proceed to unload more names, dates, and details than I thought any one person could know. We walk through sort of the central part of the city, starting at the Monument of Victor Emanuel (also known as the Wedding Cake), stopping at Trajan's Column, the Trevi Fountain, Piazza Monteaiterro, the Pantheon (Oh My God, Breath Taking), Piazzo Navone, the Teatro di Pompeii, and the Area Sacra. Again, I am just going to assume you know what all these things are. At every stop, Shane imparted more knowledge on us than I could handle. I wish I had taken notes. He did a really incredible job of explaining all the connections between popes and emperors and architects and artists and how they all worked with each other and against each other to create what we see today. I wish I could explain the experience better, but really I am just at a loss for words. It was, simply put, perfect. Having two incredibly educated guys give you private tours of Rome is not a bad way of seeing the city.

Thursday, we spent the day at the Roman Forum, the Coliseum, and Palatine Hill. We didn't have a tour set up for this day, and ended up joining one once we got there. In retrospect, we should have asked Shane what he was doing Thursday, and paid him to be our educated friend for the day. Oh well. Instead, we had a fairly adorable old Italian man show us around the Coliseum. I can't say I really trust any of the tid-bits he told us, but I didn't really care. I was just excited to be standing inside the Coliseum. You could have told me puppies ate my mom and I still would have been happy. One thing that I would really liked cleared up - because my Latin teachers and this old guy seem to be in disagreement over this fact - is whether or
not they actually held Naval battles inside the Coliseum. Old dude made a pretty fair argument as to why they couldn't have; the arena was too small, there was no way to get the boats inside, and flooding the arena meant flooding the chambers below. But, at the same time, I find it hard to believe that every Latin/Classics teacher I have ever had lied to me. Wiki, here I come! After the Coliseum, the old dude passed us off to a smarmy dude in a track suite who then showed us around Palatine Hill. Just looking at this guy, I had zero respect for his knowledge of anything and proceeded to take a lot of pictures and pretty much ignore him completely. I think we had just been spoiled by Matthew and Shane, who had not only told us the basics but really went in depth and gave us some great information. Old dude and Smarmy dude, understandably, we playing to the lowest common denominator and really didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. And, occasionally, told us things we knew were wrong because Shane and Matt had taught us otherwise. Despite my snooty opinion of the tour guides, Palatine Hill was amazing. I think it has to be one of the prettiest places I have ever been. It's just gorgeous. I nerded out pretty hard core over this tiny little plaque in the ground that signified the "exact spot" Romulus founded Rome. I also liked the trees way more than I normal person should. I know, what a weird thing to like. But they were seriously awesome trees! Anyway, once we climbed back down the hill (which was a bit of an effort of Darren's part) we went to the meeting spot for the next part of the tour. We, along with about ten other people, had paid ten euro each to be lead through the Coliseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum. However, whether it was a miscommunication or we were swindled, there was no third part of the tour. Darren and I waited around with a Scottish couple, a British kid, and a Mom/Daughter duo from D.C. for about twenty minutes before we decided to go it alone. All of us went together over to the forum and between the three guide books we had and my (in)ability to read Latin, gave ourselves our own tour. We didn't do too badly, actually. But, it was not nearly as informative as I would have liked it to have been. The people we were with were really nice/interesting to talk to. The mom of the American duo turned out to be from Dallas originally, so we bonded (I accidentally typed boned, and almost left it for humour's sake). They were excellent company, and it was really a shame we had to leave them so soon. Darren and I had to get to the airport by seven and we wanted to go back to the Pantheon one more time before we left. We spent our last two hours in Rome sitting at a little café just outside the Pantheon, eating wonderful food, sipping wine, and people watching. It was, I think, the perfect way to end the trip.

During the cab ride to the airport, my heart was literally heavy. You know that sinking feeling in your chest? I've gotten that both times I have left Italy. I think my body is trying to tell me something. As I said before, I just absolutely love Italy and, now, Rome. I was very sad to leave it and will (not might) be going back soon. I really would like to learn a little Italian and maybe spend two or three weeks over there. Want to go with me?

Twenty Three

Ok, we need a new post; time to push Downer Debbie on down the page a bit.

As you all know, Tuesday was my Birthday. And it was, I have to say, a pretty damned good one. I spent Friday and Saturday at my Aunt's house in the country. It was also Will's (cousin's boyfriend) birthday, so we had a little joint celebration. There were decorations, presents, and cake. My mom mailed a big package of goodies for me and included, for reasons I don't necessarily understand, a Pin the Tail on the Donkey game. I think it was the first time in my entire life I have actually played that game - it only took twenty-three years.

Sunday was Texas Independence day and there was a bit of a shindig at the Texas Embassy. A group of us went around 2:00, expecting to have some lunch and our free drink and be on our way. They finally kicked us out eight hours - and eight margaritas - later. As Adam said, drinking Margaritas all day is a really great way to spend your Sunday - until you look in your wallet and realize your missing £40. I should really move somewhere more conducive to my lifestyle; that lifestyle being "poor".

Tuesday it snowed! In Texas anyway. I like to think that Texas got me snow for my birthday, but I just forgot to leave a forwarding address. All London got for me was freezing rain. Psh, I doubt I'll be inviting London again next year. I didn't really plan anything special, but I think that's exactly why I had so much fun. A couple of the girls from work and I shared a bottle of wine at my place before heading up to the weekly pub quiz. I feel I need to apologize on behalf of Laura and myself, as we were the only two to reach giggly drunk. For everyone else who was there, I hope we didn't embarrass you too much.

All in all, I have to say it was a pretty alright birthday. I sort of had this expectation that 23 would make me feel older. 22 just sounds so young to me. I didn't expect to wake up Tuesday morning to a whole new world or anything, but I did think that people might respect me a little bit more and maybe see me as less of a "kid". I was pretty excited about the 23 mark, that is, until people at work kept gasping at how young I am saying, "we thought you were 29!". Oh well, I guess one of these days I'll become an adult. I can't say I'm really in a big hurry...

I noticed the other day that I have managed to maintain the standard school holiday schedule since I've entered into the "real world". I took three weeks at Christmas, and I am taking next week off for Spring Break. Darren gets into town on Sunday, and we'll be spending three days in Rome next week. I'm incredibly excited about this trip. I've wanted to go to Rome since 8th grade, when I first started studying classics. I think my nerdometer may, in fact, explode. I'm taking the SLR on this one, so expect A LOT of pictures.

Heart Sick

The last few days have been particularly hard. Why? I'm suffering from a pretty serious case of home sickness. I don't know where it came from - well, actually, that's not entirely true. I found out last week that I can't afford to come home in April like I had hoped. It will be at least another four months before I make it make to Texas. So, my sickness is not completely inexplicable but it's more than just that.

I miss Sunday night dinner and cartoon parties. I miss watching kung fu movies at John and Adam's. I miss the Alamo Draft house. I miss sing-a-longs. I miss downtown and sixth street. I miss cheap booze. I miss cheap anything, for that matter. I miss my mom. I miss home cooked meals. I miss having a roommate (specifically, roommate). I miss my cat. I miss my dog. I miss my car. I miss driving in the rain. I miss thunderstorms in general and the way the sky turns green and you can actually smell the brewing storm. I miss weekly lunches. I miss my brother. I miss my Skye-pie. I miss my dad's bad jokes. I miss shopping with Jackye. I miss the sun. I miss having a purpose (i.e. graduating college). I miss arts and crafts projects at Kelly's house. I miss the excitement I always felt as I exited 35, turned onto MLK and glided down that big hill. I miss burnt orange. I miss having more than three close friends. I miss always having someone to call. I miss the central time zone. I miss Jimmy Johns. I miss Thai Noodle House. I miss Vulcan Video - or any rental place. I miss the music capital of the world. I miss the Mythbusters and Mike Rowe and Futurama. I miss guitar hero. I miss people who miss guitar hero as much as me. I miss people whose idea of a spring break is watching How it's Made and playing Wii at the beach. I miss Shiner. I miss being able to say Shiner or double fisting without being laughed at. I miss John's house. I miss vanilla chia. I miss impromptu parties. I miss theme parties. I miss Halloween. I miss Tex-mex and Mexican Martinis. I miss watching reality TV marathons with Brandan and considering it a productive Sunday. I miss hobby lobby. I miss convenience. I miss feeling like I belong. I miss feeling loved.

Speaking of, I am a bit love sick too. I've just got a bit of a nostalgic, sentimental, longing to be in love thing going. I don't think this is detrimental to my well being, but I do think snuggling could go a long way toward improving my general mood.

It's just one of those days…

My Town Burned Down

Naples, Italy

The Stereotype

• On first impression, Naples is a loud, crowded, dirty, mismatch of people, buildings, cars, animals, and garbage. While I am aware there is a garbage strike on (in fact, I was privileged enough to witness a garbage riot on town hall in which people threw trash at politicians), you are given the distinct impression that litter is not a new problem. There are dilapidated, graffiti ridden apartments butted up against modern glass front business complexes. Buildings are painted all shades of red, yellow, and green. Every building is covered in balconies and every balcony is covered in hanging laundry and hanging plants. The streets have no lanes and the cars zip along wherever they want, and as fast as they want (usually faster than you would have thought possible). But mixed into and made from all of that, is a real feeling of life and culture. Italians are loud, passionate, and shake their hands a lot when they talk. Every overdone stereotype of the accent is spot on. Italians seem to always be in a hurry and completely apathetic at the same time. They embrace slow walks and long lunches. They use their horns too much. There are scooters every where and I love to watch them inch down the street with a hairdryer between their legs and say "ciao". (That's an Eddie Izzard joke for ya). The woman are beautiful and the men have no shame; I was asked out on three dates and proposed to twice. It's a hectic, "in your face" kind of town that you really do have to see to believe.

The Highlights

• I went to dinner my first night at this little, well, Italian place recommended to me by the B&B guys. There were only three people in the restaurant, the owner, the chef, and me. I told the owner to order his favourites for me and I got some of the most amazing fresh steamed clams and oysters on linguini, some interesting (but still tasty) fried sardines with roasted eggplant in a vinegar gravy, and a free bottle of wine. The food was amazing, but what really made the night was the ambiance. Me, alone with two happy old men, watching Walker Texas Ranger in Italian. When it first came on, they turned to me and said "Chuck Norris! Boom, boom!". I could have gotten on a plane back to London right then and there. It pretty much made my life.
  
• Pompeii was one of the more incredible things I have seen in my life. I was first and foremost surprised by the size of the place. For some reason, I was expecting a few ruins here and there and maybe some display cases of the more important artefacts. But, no. Not at all. It's an entire city - square grid blocks of roads and alleyways, sidewalks, crosswalks, remnants of temples, government buildings, gladiatorial arenas, graveyards and tombs, houses, restaurants, theatres, launder mats, fish markets, meat markets, bath houses, graffiti (both political slander and immature jokes), and even swimming pools - amazingly preserved and waiting to be explored. I got there rather early in the day and would often walk through the ancient city streets for twenty minutes without seeing another living soul - except, of course, for the many stray dogs that make the dead city their home. It's such a humbling and invigorating feeling to see and touch the things that people in the 6th century B.C. built and used in everyday life. It kind of blows your mind.
  
• As is now a tradition when it comes to Shelley sightseeing alone, I partook in another Hop-on-hop-off bus tour. I've decided this really is one of the best ways to see a big city when you're alone, prone to getting lost, and short on time. The tour took me through the main squares of the town, stopping at the most significant churches, catacombs, castles and museums. I took the time to explore the Museco Archelogico di Napoli - where all the exciting Pompeii and Herculeum finds end up. They had an "erotic exhibit" featuring a few of the fetishes and penis jokes antiquity had to offer. Be on the look out for a fabulous photography of my favourite penis piece. The tour also took us up to the highest point of the city where I sipped my café while overlooking the entire bay.
  

The Pizza

• If I had to pick a down side of my Naples experience it would be this: I can never enjoy pizza again. I've been trying to think of a way in which I can describe the absolute perfection of the margarehita pizza without making it sound like an overstatement. I don't think I can. You'll just have to accept it when I tell you that the tangy-sweetness of the tomatoes, the bubbly pockets of buffalo mozzarella, and the fresh basil leaves combined into a singular tastes explosion that can only be described as pure happiness. This is not an exaggeration, it is simply fact. I can only hope that you believe me and are, one day, lucky enough to eat pizza in Naples.
  

The Conclusion

• Many of the people I talked to were surprised Naples was my first Italian city. They found it very odd that I didn't start with Rome, Venice, or Florence. In fact, many of the locals even apologized for Naples being my first impression of Italy and implored me to visit the "nicer cities". I understand their point, I think. Naples isn't the "normal" Italian city. They have their own language, they have their own style, they don't have any of the huge attractions or monuments but, despite what they say, I think Naples is fantastic and I am so glad I went.
  
  
  

How to get from Gatwick to Victoria

Or: An Exerpt of an Email to my Brother

Once you deplane and go through immigration, there is a counter to the right that will sell you a train ticket. You want a return ticket on the Gatwick Express to Victoria - make sure to tell them the return is on Tuesday (more on this later). Go down the ramps and get your luggage, go through the lovely green "I have nothing to declare except my genius" customs door, and exit into the main terminal. You are looking for signs that say "trains" - I know, it's really complicated, but stick with me. You follow these "trains" signs in order to get to the trains. You might have to take a little shuttle train to switch terminals (I think the express goes out of the north terminal, but I'm not sure). Don't be confused by this little shuttle train - this is not the Gatwick Express. When you exit the shuttle, continue to follow the signs that read "trains" until you find the train station. It will be pretty easy to locate as it is the place with all the trains.

There will be a big board that tells you what trains are on what platform. Make sure you get on a Gatwick Express to Victoria. I cannot stress this enough. Getting on the right train is crucial to getting to the right place. There will be non-express trains going to Victoria, don't get on those. Those will take upwards of an hour, but the Express only takes 30 minutes - this is, I believe, why they call it the "express".

You will know you have arrived at London Victoria when the train stops moving, and does not start again. This is called "the end of the line". Exit the train (be sure to get your luggage) and follow the signs labled "WAY OUT". This is British for "exit". There is only one exit, or "way out", so it is quite difficult to get lost. However, just in case you are confused or overwhelmed by the foriegn culture, I have selected a familar landmark where we will meet. There is a Burger King immediately to the right as you exit the platform and enter the station. This is where you will find me.

Clearly you're a jackass

I've been accosted today for a mistake my boss made of which I knew nothing about. But, she is not here, so it's my fault and my responsibility. Honestly, it’s not a big deal and it took all of five minutes to fix, but I don't much like getting phone calls from partners who talk down to me and give me attitude for something I had nothing to do with. I get it, you are paid much more than I am to do a much more important job - that doesn't make me your servant. No respect I tell ya, no respect.

Thus I have come to a conclusion: I could never do this for a living. Secondary conclusion: I need to find a job doing something I like before my will to live is sucked away and I become complacent enough to work here for another year (or worse, the rest of my life).

On another note, I nerded out about this morning's Metro wrap. Often times, the metro sells the front and back of both the first and last page of their paper to advertisers (FYI: this is known in media lingo as a "wrap"). This morning, the paper did some shameless self-promotion in which they filled the four pages with a variety of designs for a "remake our masthead" competition. I've scanned it in for your amusement, which unfortunately means it's b&w only, but I think it's still pretty neat. EDIT: Thanks to Alex over at Zurich Media (who happened to stumble upon the entry), we now have these lovely jpegs - now in color!

I'd like to take a moment to point out that a girl from Texas Creative was doing the hand typography thing two years ago. And when she did it, it related back to the product (it was for the Body Shop and she used all part of the human body, not just hands). In short, the winner here is not, in my opinion, all that special or relevant. Having said that, I'm not sure which I would pick for the winner. Maybe the 7th one on the second page, thrid column. I like their simplicity. A lot of them I find too busy or overly complicated for a masthead (read: the last one in the same coloumn). Anyway, I thought it was interesting....

"You're Kidding"

While I found Jeremy's analysis of the current stock market situation in my previous post insightful, it's his second comment I wish to elaborate on: Heath Ledger is dead.

When I heard the news last night I was, it's safe to say, shocked. In fact, I was much more shocked than I would have expected. While the death of any person is always tragic, I never would have thought that the death of Heath Ledger would upset me so much. Not "upset" in the crying hysterical sense of the word. No, not that at all. But, nonetheless, it has resonated with me in some way. Maybe it was his potential as an actor. Maybe it was his two year old daughter. Maybe it was his youth. Maybe it was how unexpected it was (I haven't heard much of the guy for years and all of a sudden he's dead?!). I'm not sure why really, but this death is - I think -particularly sad. I won't get into how this personally affected me because, honestly, it hasn't. But, I will say, it's truly tragic that we only get one opportunity to experience this:

"America is closed today"

I am sitting here watching the news and, during a report on the stock market, they uttered the above phrase. What a strange thought. Happy MLK day - though, I don't think that is something you send out best wishes for. In any case, I hope you enjoyed your day off.

I don't believe in New Years' Resolutions

Despite how excited I was to come home this Christmas (and we are talking giddy excited), I was a little worried about having to answer the same dreaded question over and over again, "So what are you doing with your life?".

It seems that people expect me to have it all figured out. They want to know if I like my current job. Will I stay with them for a year? Two years? Will I look for another job? What kind of job do I think I can get? How long will I stay at that job? Do I want to travel? Where do I want to travel? When will I travel? Do I have a boyfriend? Do I plan on finding one when I get back? (Like it's that easy.) Do I have any friends? Will I join any clubs or groups to make friends? When will I come back to Texas? Will I live in Austin or Dallas? Have I thought about going back to school? What grad program would I want to do?

Here's the only questions I have: What the hell is the rush?

Since I don't have any answers to these questions I started telling people I was living on a six month plan. This is something I used when I first decided to move to London six months go (side note: can you believe it was six months ago?). I discovered it was acceptable to not know the answers to these questions so long as you explained that you knew you didn't know. Weird, right? But it worked. I've been leaning on this as a crutch, all most, to keep myself from having to think too far ahead. What I didn't realize until this Christmas is that it's true. I am living in the short term and I am really, truly, happy with that.

I came to England in September with absolutely no plan. That's terrifying and down right stupid. But, do you know isn't terrifying and stupid? Coming to England for three months. That's not scary at all. So I lived from September to December and I found a job, and I kind of enjoy that job, and I get paid well, and I travelled to Dublin, and I visited Holland, and I made a couple of friends, and when I came back to Texas for Christmas I was considered successful in my venture.

Now, I just have to make it to April. I'll keep going to work, maybe even find another job better suited to me skills and interests. I'll visit a few more countries and experience exciting things I otherwise wouldn't be able to. I am thinking about joining a theatre troop. I have set a few "professional goals" for myself that involve becoming more active in design again - rebranding my website and my business cards, building my portfolio on my own, reading more design and ad books, visiting museums, and trying to get more design projects at work. You might say these are "New Years' Resolutions", but I don't think of them that way. If something is important to you, you shouldn't have to wait until January 1st to promise yourself you'll drop 10 lbs or quit smoking. It's just a coincidence that I have promised these things to myself at the beginning of the New Year. I am going to take active steps towards these "resolutions", but I have no idea if any of it will happen. It could be that I'll never find a proper job, that I can't travel, that I find myself lonely and homesick, and that I suck at design. Maybe. I don't know. But it doesn't matter, does it? Not in a long term king of way. This next three months is so miniscule in the grand scheme of my life. All I have to do is live as best I can and wait to see what might happen next.

This isn't to say that I am now completely passive in my life and will just wait for the tide to pull me where it will. No, not at all. I have an idea of what I think I would like to do and I am going to do my best to achieve that ideal. But, I am not going to stress myself out if something doesn't go "according to plan". I feel like people get too caught up in the future and forget about the now. I just want to enjoy what I am doing without having to taint it with fears and worries. I am too young to tie myself down like that. I'm not sure when I'll hit that magic age when I have to "grow up", but I figure I'll know when I get there.

So, for now anyway, I am playing it by ear. I was explaining this to a family friend and his response was, "you really have your shit together". I kind of laughed and said that it's really easy to look like you have it together when you, in fact, have nothing to put together. I find that this outlook really simplifies things for me and makes it (life) so much easier to handle.

I said it once, and I'll say it again: Puppets really are smarter than people. I'd like to believe that my life philosophy is a bit more complicated than a spoof Sesame Street musical could understand (and, honestly, it is), but I find this lyric to be a nice little cliffs note version of what I am talking about here: "Everything in life is only for now".

This is what I look like on my way to work

Except, not Asian.
Anyone want to buy me a gustbuster??

Also, for Lauren (of the Dawson variety):

I am amazed with just how many hits "wrinkly puppies" gets on getty. I promise not to punt your puppy, but only if you promise to let me hide things in his folds. How could I not?!?

Across the Universe

I have done a lot of thinking over the last 3 weeks and I have a lot to say, but I haven't quite collected my thoughts yet. So, bear with me and be on the look out for an analytical post about life (or rather my life and how I want to live it).

In the interim, I'd like to recommend a movie to you called Across the Universe. It's like Yellow Submarine meets The Wall meets The Science of Sleep on Acid. I think it's really incredible. I watched it on the plane and surprised those around me with my very obvious reactions, which I guess you aren't supposed to do on a packed plane surrounded by strangers. But sometimes you just can't help laughing out loud, or smiling, or gasping, or crying (though I didn't do the latter, but that would have also been frowned upon). Anyway, it's a really fabulous film and one I would never had expected an airline to show. Way to go American Airlines.

In fact, this is the first time in a long time that I have really enjoyed flying American. There seemed to be more space than BA, they give you more freedom to watch as many movies as you want, they had half of the first season of the American Office, and they had video games. I found the flight attendants to be more obnoxious and the food less than tasty, but when it comes to nine hour plane rides the crucial factor is the entertainment package. I give a big thumbs up for American's international service - just you remember that next time you are flying over seas.

The "e" button on my lap top is acting up. Do you know how many words include the letter "e"? It's a lot. I know this bcaus vry tim I come to th "" in a word I hav to paus and really push down th button or els my sntences nd up looking lik this. Annoying, isn't it?

I was reading my latest copy of one. a magazine (the publication for one of the most accredited advertising organizations in the world) and, low and behold, they mention Sean - my Creative prof who runs the Texas program and is all around a pretty awesome guy. This made me happy and rather proud. Hook em'? I think so.

I'm about 90% sure I am happy to be back in England. I miss my family and my lovely friends and, perhaps more than both of those combined, I miss having a shower. But when I looked out the window of the train and saw Big Ben, and when I emerged from Mornington Crescent and turned towards my house, I got that contented feeling I always get from being back somewhere familiar. It's dark and rainy and I'm going to have to lug 40 lbs of groceries up two flights of stairs and I think I kind of missed it. I'm telling you this now in case you are worried about me. Don't be. More on this later.

For now, just know I had an absolutely fabulous time in Texas and, if I were you, I would prepare for an on slot on abnormally long emails and random facebookings - I plan on staying in touch so much you'll never want to see me again. =)