in which i will have a pleasant trip

It would seem that lately I am quite enamored of monochromatic print-mixing. And hats.

(blouse/skirt/hat: thrifted; shoes: kohl's; necklace: diy)

It was actually really nice yesterday evening, so I got some takeout from China Star on my way home (fried bean curd and veggies in spicy garlic sauce!) and read my book by the riverside in our local park:

It was quite lovely until little league practice started nearby and scores of screaming children were hitting balls dangerously close to my head. I like to live on the edge, but in this case I just wanted to read my book (Edith Wharton's "Summer") in peace. Still, I stuck around until the sun started to set. I go back and forth between wanting to live in a more urban area and daydreaming about the countryside, and this did make me wish I had a field of my very own to lay in.

In other news, my fortune read: "You will have a pleasant trip." I sure hope so, because last night I booked a flight out west to meet up with one of my dear friends as she takes an extended roadtrip along the other coast before buckling down and going to law school in Austin (where I also can't wait to visit her!). I'll be flying into Albuquerque, and we'll drive through New Mexico, Utah, and down to Las Vegas for our last hurrah before I jet back in time for the July 4th festivities in my little town with my loverman. Pretty effing excited. It's a little bittersweet though, because I have a bit of a guilt complex about leaving K at home while I go gallivanting around the country, which is why I've tended to avoid such trips with my girlfriends in the past few years (long ladies' weekends excepted). I've just always felt that I should have those sorts of adventures with him now, especially since he hasn't traveled nearly as much as I have and it's not like I have a whole lot of money to throw around on multiple long vacations (besides, I had plenty of exciting travels with my gal pals before I met him--it's his turn!). I don't know, I'm weird like that. How about you guys? Do you avoid making extensive travel plans without your significant others? Or are you one of those footloose and fancyfree gals who goes whichever way the wind blows?

So, the sad news is that K has gone "home" for the Holidays (aka to his parents' house) and I am left all alone in our festive little barn apartment. Getting him on the airplane turned out to be quite the ordeal. The huge blizzard that surprised the East Coast this weekend didn't directly affect us here in VT, but his connecting flight in DC was cancelled (one of the problems with living in a small state is that you can't really get out without stopping somewhere along the way). After hours on hold with Delta we drove to the airport to reschedule in person and ended up booking a flight out of Boston for super-early the next morning (all flights out of Burlington were booked until two days before Christmas). Unfortunately, by the time we got back to the apartment the storm had hit Boston and they were getting all freaked out down there and cancelling flights like crazy people. Finally, after hours and hours on hold (again...and I mean hours) he decided to book a flight with another airline and I ended up driving him all the way down to Boston (we only experienced the very tail-end of the storm) and all the way back that same evening. I couldn't even light up the tree when I got home... it was too depressing. I'll be going "home" (aka to my parents' house) tonight to spend some quality time with the family for the next couple of weeks.

In the meantime, I took advantage of K's absence by borrowing his clothes! HA! Shh don't tell:

Sometimes I wish I were taller, but being small does have its perks! I mean, K is tall but he's not a giant or anything... and the shirt is still only borderline inappropriate when worn as a dress (By me. If he wore it as a dress that would be inappropriate in many ways. Not that I don't support men wearing dresses if they're into that kind of thing).

So last night I was a little less bummed out about his desertion (time heals all wounds...) and decided to spend some quality time with myself. I wined and dined (mm yes please leftover fried-bean-curd-in-garlic-sauce chinese takeout):

Hung out in the library:

And watched two consecutive documentaries about the Ballet:

I've been meaning to watch these films for a long time, not just because I have a newfound infatuation with ballet (which I do... although I suppose it's more of a fascination), but because I'm doing "research." I've been frustrated with my creative stagnation for long enough--and while this blog offers temporary relief on a day-to-day basis (like bandaids or tylenol), it doesn't really satisfy my serious artistic impulses. I need to move beyond the quick fix and focus more of my attention on truly finding fulfillment. And so I found myself scribbling notes about ballerinas on a Tuesday night... and that's good! That's a first step, anyway.

I've had many ideas over the past couple of years and never sat down to develop them, but I keep returning to the concept of spirituality and faith in the modern world and the ways in which people create their own sort of "religion" when they are disconnected from traditional religious communities. I know people who have found calmness and completion in religious devotion and faith--people who are generally far more well-balanced and comfortable with their humanity than I will ever be--and as someone who can't subscribe to any particular religious doctrine, I find myself observing the ways in which other people fill that spiritual void.

The development of my potential story began long ago with "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance..." or maybe "What the #$*! do We (K)now?" (a silly movie, but a good starting point for brain-jumping) and moved through Simone de Beauvoir and the philosophy of the individual, mysticism and eastern religion (esp. Sufism & the whirling dervishes), quantam theory, Leonard Cohen's zen Monastery and performance as prayer, the faith of the masses in Obama's political mission and movement, the ways in which romantic love parallels and possibly replaces divine love...

Wow, blah blah blah, right? This is why I need to sit down and "develop," because otherwise I ramble ramble ramble and never really get my point across.

Anyway, that's what I'm working on. In case you were wondering.

PS. I apologize for the disorderly state of my dresser drawers. It's bound to happen when you have one tiny tiny closet and an overabundance of clothes, but I admit I probably could have at least tried to close them.

PPS. If your eyes were distracted from the disheveled dresser by the visible half of my awesome antique singer sewing machine, well played.