to archive what I'm making and where I'm going.
I’ve never re-blogged anything before. And I didn’t intend to post this. My friend Eva was logged into my account and did it intending to re-blog it on her tumblr. But I love it, so it stays.
Well, now that I’m traveling through Europe, I hope this Blog will come in handy again. It’s been difficult to keep it up now that I have a new art/writing Archive with my closest friend, but I’ll make this space more public — share it with my parents and friends.
On January 3rd, I boarded a plane to London. My first European excursion. The flight took 6 hours, but because I left Washington D.C. at 6 PM, and London is 5 hours ahead, I arrived at 6 AM (I’ll give you a minute to calculate that).
Without exploring London, I boarded a bus to Brighton, on the Southern Coast of England. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but t felt a little odd, and little frightening not to have a phone or internet access. In the U.S., you can expect to pick up WiFi anywhere, and there are free power-outlets in any public building. Thus is not the case in England.
That aside, I was indescribably excited to see my childhood friends, the McDonaghs, whom I was headed to visit. The three children grew up with me at Claymont — and their mother was my school teacher. We spent the most ethereal years of our childhood exploring the old rooms and wilderness at Claymont. But after I don’t know how many years, they returned to England, and I hadn’t seen or heard from them in 13 years. It was incredible to see and spend time with them again, as they’ve turned into such conscious, artistic, and intelligent young people. The experience will take me much longer to convey well, but to summarize, it was great to see them.
After a night and day in Brighton, I took the train to London, where I spent the next three days with a close friend and fellow Bryn Mawr student. She was a fabulous host— and insisted on taking me around the city with every spare moment she had. London is the most fashionable place I’ve ever been to — and it was much too expensive for my minimalist and alternative lifestyle, but it was very beautiful. We ate great food and spent time with other study abroad students from various countries who were also at the London School of Economics.
After London, I took the bus to Dublin. It was a 12 hour trip, 4 of which were on the ferry. I love long trips, so this wasn’t unpleasant for me at all. I arrived in Dublin on a grey, overcast morning (most mornings in Dublin are this way) and settled into my accommodation on Trinity’s campus, which is in the heart of Dublin city center. My flatmates include an incredible Hungarian guy who plays every extreme sport imaginable and studies ancient history, a British boy who does not enjoy socializing and whom I’ve only seen for a few seconds after two weeks of living here, and a quiet American girl.
I had a week of orientation with other American and Canadian study abroad students, during which time we went on a “literary” pub crawl (people reciting and reenacting Yeats, Joyce, Wilde, etc while drinking lots of Guinness), saw a play at the national theater of Ireland, traveled to Glendalough and Wicklow in southern Ireland, and did a myriad of other activities. These were great, but I’m glad to be free of organized fun. I prefer to do my own adventuring.
Yeah. It seems like I need some form of expressive art therapy all day everyday. Ergo, my friends and I have recently taken to organizing and executing photoshoots of each other. I know this sounds silly, but the process is so much fun, and since I have almost no experience with photography, I appreciate the practice.
I gave Eva a mohawk and a painted face — and made Ariel only a tad more James Deany than she already is.
My dad has trouble speaking clearly because he had several strokes a few years ago, and sometimes now, he says strange, somewhat nonsensical or vague things that make such profound sense to me.
We were trying to discuss the fateful way that certain social circles overlap (which reminded me of this blog), because I was amazed that one of my professors had studied with friends of his, especially since my professor is Iranian and only recently immigrated to the US after he was exiled for his ideas on religious relativism… I digress, but my dad just said “On a certain level, you, and the people you are meant to know, are from Atlantis.”
It made no sense and perfect sense to me.
And I hope that in a decade, my wonderful, inspiring friends have found the rest of the Atlantians.
In 2010, I sometimes complained or at least felt a little downtrodden about the fact that I hadn’t read anything in a while that had inspired me — or meant anything to me. In high school, a novel or short story would have such an effect on me that I’d run up to my friends and insist they read passages, or I’d call my loves up on the phone to read aloud.
Well, this semester, I’ve been lucky enough to have read two short story collections already that I want to whole world to read.
The first is George Saunders’ book In Persuasion Nation, which is full of short stories that have a narrative energy I had never experienced. It’s like Vonnegut on speed and mushrooms — and I mean that in a good way.
The second, I just finished, and it is Karen Russell’s St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised By Wolves. The story plots are fantastic, with a teaspoon of verisimilitude, a cup of fantasy, and a whopping heap awe-inspiring language.
Please read them.
This is a shot from a stop motion piece I’m working on about my dad’s love for Rumi.
This is a moment I’m glad I caught on film. It’s Alex, Jade, and Paul singing a song that Alex wrote (I think?).
