Vagabond

I feel like a corporate rouge. It's getting to the point where I just want to go. I don't care where, I don't care about sleeping arrangements. I just want to go. The problem is, each new trip doesn't quench my thirst for more. It only feeds the flame.

Perception

It struck me yesterday as I was waiting in line at Taco Time that maybe our reality isn't actually real. I just had a sudden terrified thought that maybe a $20 wouldn't suffice an $8 ticket, but that it is merely what we've been taught to believe. And why are the numbers like that? What if E came before C? What if it does and we're all wrong?
      What if my reality is different from the boy's who sat next to me on the plane. Obviously, our immediate realities - him living in Miami, and me in Seattle - are different. But what if it's entirely different? What if I'm the only person who experiences airplanes the way I do? What if what I think happens when I'm driving isn't actually what other people perceive. The bubbles in carbonated soda - maybe the sensation it gives my tongue is a complete fabrication a la my mind? The mind is a powerful thing, you know.
     When we get itches, what's really happening is a defensive mechanism. Our senses pick up a microscopic (and sometimes not so microscopic) foreign object brushing up against our skin. That sends a signal to our brain which tells us we need to scratch. Not because 'we're itchy' but because we need to ward off the epidermis invasion. It's actually pain; scratching is. The brain categorizes it as minor pain that distracts us from the fact that something is touching us that shouldn't be.
      Have you ever tried to not scratch an itch? To deliberately not scratch it? The urge seems to intensify to me. And that is all completely in my head.

Potential Opener for Hide & Seek

“He’s dead.”

“No he’s not.”

“Adelaide – he’s gone.”

That’s not right. He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s too full of himself and – well frankly I don’t think he has the audacity. But no, I don’t even need to think about that because he didn’t do it. I’m hearing his voice right now, so he can’t be dead. He’s on the television for goodness sake.

                Well, I guess that’s not him on the television. It’s a picture of him. I can’t really hear what their saying, but it can’t be “he’s dead”.  People are cheering, but people always cheer when he’s around. The people love him. Although, after the last few months I’ve had, I’m not entirely sure why.

                Okay, here we go. They’re showing more than just his face. It’s just a pile of rubble, though. I don’t understand the correlation. Isaac apparently senses my confusion. Or it’s just written all over my face like usual.

                “It’s the Berghof, Addie.”

                “No it’s not.”

                That’s not my house that’s been bombed. Sorry, that’s not my father’s house that’s been bombed. But then I guess if he’s dead it is mine. Nevertheless, that’s not ours. Our house is not being set on fire by our enemies. His enemies. This is so confusing.

                “Are you alright?” Isaac looks concerned. And weary. I haven’t seen him in almost three months and he really looks terrible. His cheeks are sunken and his arms and face are covered in bruises and welts. Though, I can’t imagine I look much better.

                “No, I…?”

                “It’s over, Addie. Everything is over. We’ve been liberated. Your dad killed himself because he knew they were coming after him. The Americans bombed your house and the French have now set it on fire.”

                I look back at the screen. My bedroom is nonexistent. Grandmother’s living quarters are now ablaze. There’s nothing left.

                “So that’s it, then. It’s over.”

Freedom

I envy those with freedom. Those who can’t decide between sitting at Starbucks all day or sitting in their room. Those who – even for just one day a week – wake up at their leisure, have breakfast for lunch, draw, make music, read stories and then write better ones. Those who plan to go to the store today but then, don’t, because they have all day tomorrow too. Those who have time to prepare and eat all three meals in a single day; those who have the ability to utilize banks on Saturdays – or any days, for that matter.

I don’t think people appreciate freedom like that as much as they should. I don’t think students –especially those with the freedom to create their own schedules – understand what they have. And adults who work five days a week: drink it in. You have two full days to do whatever you want. Sure, the bathroom needs cleaning, but you could do that on Sunday.

                On May 21^st of this year I was in London, but you wouldn’t have known it. I stayed in my hotel room the entire day and I regret nothing. I didn’t set an alarm, I didn’t change out of my pajamas – no wait, I did. I put on jeans to go down to the hotel lobby for a panini from Costa Coffee. Mmm it was delicious. QI & Mock the Week marathons were on consecutively so I was absolutely satisfied staying in bed all day.

                So in February when I’m in London again I’m most looking forward to doing nothing. I don’t know if you’re grasping this: I will be transitioning from working 60+ hour weeks to 0. There is no job for me there, and I’ll be there for long enough to probably miss one. Just…all I want to do is sit at Hyde Park and write stories. That’s all I want to do with my life. I can’t wait to begin it.   

Airplanes in the Night Sky

Didn't get around to posting anything yesterday. Sue me.

I just bought my plane ticket to Disneyland next Tuesday. For three years I've been wanting to see the park during the holidays. I've been there for Spring, Summer, and Fall (all in the past year and a half, actually) but never for Christmas and I stumbled upon a great bargain the other day.

     I am terrified of airplanes. You'd never know it, of course, because really you can't allow something like that to get in your way. But every time I get dropped off at the airport it hits me full in the face. Every time I get on an airplane I feel like I won't ever be getting off. And trust me - I've had a few experiences that have given me good reason to feel that way.
    The first time I ever went anywhere by myself was to Disneyland for a day last March. It was the first time I had rented a car by myself, the first time I was even at an airport by myself. It was the most terrifying experience I've ever endured. The rental company picked me up crazy late, the car was all wrong, I got lost on the freeway, I called Dad for directions but we couldn't really gather where I was, the rental car engine light came on, they almost didn't let me into the hotel because it's under my parents' names, AND THEN the car company barely got me back to the airport in time to make my flight.
      So you can see then why my trips make me so ansy. Being as I'm not checking into a hotel, I've got Disney as a transportation vehicle, and I will only have a small bag with me, I'm not too worried. I'm quite excited, actually. People always ask if going to a theme park alone is weird. Frankly once you get used to going to the movies, to the mall, to the airport, to foreign countries, and international film festivals alone, a theme park is nothing. There gets to be a point where company begins to feel a bit intrusive - but that's a topic for another time.

Suffice it to say, I'm going to be wired or the next 150 hours.

My Favorite (Holiday) Things

Red Starbucks cups, candy canes, radio stations dedicated to Christmas music, seeing your breath in the dark, cinnamon cloves burning on the stove, the smell of the Christmas tree, houses that go overboard with lights, putting up fairy lights in my room, being secretive, oversized sweaters, Christmas classics on prime time television, bundling up in scarves and hats, little girls in berets, rush hour in the dark when all the cars have their lights on, wreaths for car grills, Santa meet n greets in the mall, boots, the silence just after a fresh snowfall, black dogs playing in snow fields, losing white dogs in them, the frango set up outside of Macy's, unwrapping old nostalgic ornaments, adult snow days, apple cider, pie bake-offs, happy hearts, cinnamon buns for breakfast, eggnog, the sudden ideal that sweets can and should be consumed at all times, santa claus figurines, dark makeup, Terry's chocolate oranges, bananas in the stocking, when your nose turns red after being out in the cold, changing out of wet clothes, wrapping gifts, enough mashed potatoes to swim in, excitement, the Christmas specials, AND ON IT GOES.

The Great Dictator Speech

Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work; that will give youth the future and old age a security.

Occupy Wall Street: this is not what you’re doing. You’re disillusioned. Citizens of Yemen: this will not be the result of your actions. What are we doing? None of this makes sense anymore. We’re not fighting the right people. We’re not progressing. We’ve devolved into selfish, fickle beings with a knack for self destruction.

B.E.D.D.

I have decided that the five current projects I have in my life are not enough, so to top it all off this month I’m doing BEDD: Blog Every Day December. Yes, I did make it up. In classic Diana fashion, we start late. Let’s begin:

                I’m having a hard time understanding why people don’t travel more. I mean there’s this whole huge Earth and every place is extraordinarily different from the last. There are different languages and cultures and climates and people. Even in the same country there are a multitude of differences from one border to the other. I don’t understand how someone can look at all of that, how they can know all of that and still be okay with staying put.

                I just figure if I’m going to have all this time to flop around with, why not climb the bridge in Sydney harbor? Sleep with the sharks at the underwater hotel in Dubai, visit a tropical zoo in the tropics, see the Great Barrier Reef through a glass-bottom boat, get serenaded by a boys’ choir in Westminster Abbey, ride a donkey down the Grand Canyon, safari for mountain gorillas in Uganda, wash an elephant in Chiang Mai, ride a camel through the Sahara desert.

I’m just saying in China they eat dog and in Australia they’re pushing kangaroo meat and if you’re into that sort of thing why not give it a try? In France everyone dresses to the nines and in the tropics no one seems to own shoes. There are places where you can see the ocean floor when you’re in ten feet of water. How is that not intriguing? In London, where no one will meet eyes on the Tube and Tennessee where strangers can’t stop greeting one another. The Rocky Mountains look nothing like the Himalayas and both deserve a decent look.

                You’re going to tell me you’re busy, aren’t you? Finals are tomorrow, or something. Well I don’t buy it. I’m not going to tell you going to a foreign land isn’t terrifying – because it is – but it’s worth it. So I guess I just don’t understand how you can know all of that is out there and still settle for your front porch.