"It's all about the triumph of intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism." Okay, so that's Craig Ferguson talking about Doctor Who, but this blog endeavors exactly that. Lofty yes, but what the hell, why not. Onward, my romantic intellectual companions!
So, for the first time I went to Minneapolis's Pride a couple of weekends ago. I have one thing to implore the city of Minneapolis: Why can't you be this warm and welcoming all the time?
Really, people were so happy and delighted to be out in the bright summer weather, walking up and down Hennipen and talking to one another when most of the time walking down Hennipen results in people ignoring you or walking into whilst talking on their cell phones. Also, the mayor of Minneapolis rode down the street on a motorcycle. I think this should definitely happen more often.
http://metromag.com
I was also at the Saloon's block party that evening (after getting terribly sunburned watching Italy win in the quarter finals of soccer/football/calcio on the rooftop of a pub in Minneapolis called the Brit) and was reminded of how short I am after being surrounded by guys all over six feet tall. I also met a guy from Canada who remarked on our voting situation this fall. Come November, Minnesotans are voting as to whether marriage is defined as a union between a man and a woman or not. The "not" refers to supporting gay marriage. So, basically, in order to support GLBT rights, one has to vote "no" which feels very, very bizarre. However, the man from Canada I was talking to found the whole idea of voting on human rights more bizarre. "They kept asking me to fill out these pledge cards," he said, "and I just couldn't understand the idea of voting on human rights. I mean," he turned to me, "that's like voting to allow women to vote."
This just in: Canadians are freaking brilliant.
Overall, it was a marvelous weekend. I also saw the movie Brave, which was fantastic (you can read a review of it on my sister blog, Martin Freeman is not a Hedgehog. Yep, that's actually the name of my blog. Weird, I know).
Have you ever had one of those friends you wonder how exactly you end up hanging out with them because you don't really like them and yet you enjoy hanging out with them because they're totally insane?
This is essentially how my acquaintanceship/ friendship with [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] works. He awkwards me out, he makes an average situation suddenly far more complicated than it needs to be, and you can't walk down the street without him talking to random passerbys. However, he has fantastic stories about drunkenly driving golf carts into ponds and getting multiple DWIs. I'm not saying he's a good, safe person to be around. But he is... interesting.
A few weeks before school got out, I went to an Eric Hutchinson concert at First Avenue with [save the panzer], his brother, another friend, and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. After the phenomenal show, they decided to get food at a nearby Rainbow store. One of the automatic doors wasn't working and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] ran into it. He confusedly followed us into through the exit. He then loudly shouted to the store employees whether the store was open, since the entrance doors were locked. They responded that they were in fact open (which was assumable, as we were standing in the store now) and we slowly gathered our food items.
Now, apparently upon entering the store, one of my classmates was at the checkout and I must have looked right at her. I didn't see her, as I was trying not to die of embarrassment. A week or two later, she asked me if I'd been at that Rainbow lately. At first I was confused and realized what she must have been talking about. "Wait, was I with a really loud guy?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied, "he seemed really drunk." "Oh, he wasn't drunk. He hadn't even had anything to drink yet. You should see him when he's drunk," I assured her astonished expression.
And trust me, I have seen him drunk. This guy is the sort who makes vodka and juice concoctions with so much more vodka than juice the ice cubes go glassy and clear. He was pretty wasted on [save the panzer]'s birthday. So much so that he started humping a vace-shaped sculpture on Nicollet Mall. So, sorry, people of Minneapolis, if this man has been responsible for making your average night strange and uncomfortable. I am not responsible - he is a fully grown man who is entirely capable of following his own guidance. And it is a free country. Why he continues to hang out with younger people, I don't know. I actually don't know how old he is; he jokingly told the cab driver on [save the panzer]'s birthday that he was 45. His age and/or birth year are not on Facebook so doing the math to figure it out is no good. Doesn't matter. He could be from the 51st century for all I know.
That would be rather awkward.
Much like this photo.
Yeah, that pretty much says it all. Me laughing and crying at the same time. Accurate.
I saw this article some time ago on Star Tribune and I felt the urge to share it because... well, this sort of thing probably wouldn't happen in other parts of the United States:
I'm hesitant about writing this since I recently advertised my new blog on Facebook and the fact that Google + has officially and finally changed my name to my actual name on here. But, based on the fact that I haven't gotten any backlash as of yet and that most of my friends don't talk to me on Facebook let alone read my blog, I don't think I have anything to worry about. But still, I feel like a backstabber. A bad friend. A traitor. All because I need a place where I can pretend someone is listening to me because I don't know how to deal with one of my closest friends becoming a stranger.
Last night, [X] and a co-worker of her's were in town for a comedy show at Coffman Union - "An Evening with Bo Burnham." Now, I didn't know anything about Burnham and [Львица] and I just decided to go because it seemed like a good gesture, to meet up with [X] and see her since I haven't spoken to her since Christmas.
Except that it was totally awkward. Namely because both girls from out of town felt the need to compare everything on our campus to their school. And because [X]'s co-worker didn't seem to like us (paranoid me wondered if perhaps [X] had already told her a thing or two about us before they arrived). And Burnham wasn't my cup of tea. At all. (You can read about that on [Львица]'s blog, if you're so inclined).
The chance I did get to talk to [X] felt forced, meaningless small talk with me rambling on about psychology or Sherlock or how Benedict Cumberbatch is the greatest thing ever, only to have [X] either say little in reply or have her correct me that, in fact, Cumberbatch is ONE of the greatest things ever (not the point. Not even close). Even bringing up the Scotland trip felt sort of weird and forced, as if that wasn't us, that was some other life, some other world, not ours. Maybe it was because her co-worker was there that she didn't talk to me much. Or maybe I should just accept that she no longer puts me first in terms of friends, she probably never did, and I should just get over it. But sometimes I wonder if anyone's ever put me first, or at least equal to someone else, and it's a nagging sense that I don't amount to anything and that I've failed somehow. But I know that isn't true - I gave it my all with [X] and it just didn't turn out. She and I will never have the deep conversations we used to have on occasion - the deep conversations [Львица] and I now have at least once a week (thank God for [Львица] and [the Question]. I don't know what I'd do without them). Even conversations with people I've just met or acquaintances from my classes (like [amante della musica] and Ellie, a girl in my music as discourse and comedy class): seem simpler than talking to [X] now. Maybe she really just has become someone that I used to know.
As a Minnesotan, I would like to address the fact that Santorum won the caucus here by saying this does not exactly represent that the state of Minnesota agrees with anything that is said by him in the following video:
I, for one, did not vote in the caucus because:
1) I am not a registered Republican. I am not a registered anything. I am a good old Independent/"I'll vote whatever the hell I feel like and screw your party lines" maniac.
2) I have yet to understand how the caucus works. You see, back in the Old Country (Indiana) we had something that made slightly more sense - it was a primary, and registered voters of Insert Party Name Here voted. I have yet to encounter any Minnesotans that a) know what a caucus is and b) voted in it. And only around 50,000 voted in the caucus. That's less than the number of students enrolled at my university.
3) If you don't know why I wouldn't vote for Santorum, watch the video again. If you aren't agreeing with the Fox News anchor (which I did, for perhaps the first time in my life), then perhaps we're having a failure to communicate - just like what's going on in this interview. I think we're done here.
I was checking my email today when I came across a message from Delta airlines which addressed me as Ms. I'd forgotten I'd chosen that article so I'm sitting at my laptop, a small part of my brain wondering for about two seconds, "Who the hell is Ms. Musto?"
It's been one of those days. I woke up yesterday with my jaw aching like mad and by yesterday afternoon I noticed my left cheek was swollen. When I woke up this morning with my gums now swollen, I knew I needed to go to the dentist ASAP. Turns out I had an infection. Which the dentist remedied by sticking some hook-like instrument into my gum to ease the pressure (and release blood and pus while he was at it). All without any sort of numbing or pain reliever, mind you.
I also appear to be catching a cold. Which seems to be the new norm for the beginning of each semester. Maybe I'm just allergic to course work. :P
In more exciting news, I watched the Superbowl, was not impressed with the ads, and decided Madonna is pretty much fantastic. I will now be listening to "Like A Prayer" on repeat for the next month and no one can stop me.
Oh, and I wrote a letter to Michele Bachmann. Which I hope she'll respond to.
And I realized today that I have my first test of the semester next Monday, in Research Methods, and I have that weird feeling like I fell asleep on a car trip and I've suddenly woken up and I now have no idea what part of the United States I'm in.
I also sprained my ankle last Monday trying to take up running at the gym. After all the years I spent loathing running and now I love it and I actually want to do it and I get backtalk from my pathetically weak ankles. *le sigh.*
So there you go... a random summary of nothing, mainly because I've been rather inconsistent in my blogging so far (curse you, spring semester! This is exactly what happened last year!). But I have been blogging for over a year - yay! I haven't given up on this! I'm still writing! And it hasn't totally lapsed into a fan-girl blog. That means I still have the chance of being taken seriously.
Hehehehe...yeah right. The girl who, within the span of two weeks was confused as being young enough to be in high school by one person AND old enough to have a child old enough to be in high school by another, is not feeling very likely to be taken seriously today. So for now, I'm going to curl up on the couch, wallow in pity, and watch Sherlock. Tomorrow I will "act my age." Whatever that means.
He has a right too. My exploits Friday night seem more like the plot of a teen comedy or an SNL skit than ordinary life. But it happened... oh, how it happened.
[mind ninja] decided to host a drinking game party at her house after the success of our holiday party. Originally, we were going
to have her house to ourselves (her parents were going to be out of
town for a hockey tournament) and she planned on playing a drinking game
to Lord of the Rings. Except nothing went as planned.
[mind
ninja]'s family didn't leave town - the hockey tournament got cancelled
- and in fact, they ended up hosting a pizza dinner for the hockey team,
who didn't leave until around 9 pm. [mind ninja] hadn't gotten the
alcohol and wanted [foxy lady] or me to get it. But both of our IDs were
invalid because we hadn't gotten the chance to update them since our
birthdays were only a month and half or so past. Just as well - it's one
thing getting alcohol for my own party. It feels wrong to buy it for
someone else's. I just didn't feel comfortable doing it - but I didn't
want to say that to [mind ninja]. It seemed like betrayal.
Mostly, though, I was peeved at the United States government. Seriously, I bought alcohol in a grocery store in St. Andrews, Scotland. I was able to bring it back in my luggage. But I can't buy one single drink in an American liquor store because I didn't request to have my ID updated three weeks before my birthday (because, apparently, you can do that, which I did not know. Nor does the Minnesota State driving guide book give any such helpful tips). So, American youths about to turn 21 - your ID expires DAY OF your birthday, apparently. You can still buy drinks with it (and confuse bartenders who can do math) but you can't buy anything from a liquor store. Sad day for me, walking into a liquor store for the first time without my parents and leaving empty handed and feeling like I'm about twelve. Fuck you, United States drinking laws - I behaved myself all those years and can count on one hand the number of times I drank under the age limit. And this is how you reward me. Thanks. See if I ever take your laws seriously again. (Just kidding, US Gov't... I have no plans on becoming a criminal or a traitor. Please don't put me on the no-fly list).
[mind
ninja] and [Львица] were able to convince [novel killer]'s
parents to buy alcohol after our epic fail. We ended up with way too much for the small
group we had and somehow managed to sneak it into the house. I
felt giddy about it, like a rebel, doing something dangerous (despite
the fact that I was drinking legally). It was probably an experience many people my
age had five or six years ago, back when they were still in high school.
And I was just now experiencing it - as a legal drinker. When most kids were drinking in high school, I was staying at home, reading Jane Eyre, and watching The Daily Show. When they were having their first experiences being drunk, I was going to the movies, staying home with my parents and learning about my dad's experiences as a bartender. And while they drove home drunk in the wee hours of the morning, I was sleeping. I've never have been much of a night owl.
Even the Gleeks have party hard in high school... and they're supposed to be the un-coolest people in school (which reminds, me, I should blog about Glee). Not that I should be comparing my life to fictional TV, but this stung a bit. Apparently, I am so uncool the uncool people think I'm uncool. Think about it...
And now, it's not so much like I'm trying to play catch-up; I don't care about not having those experiences. Not exactly that I don't care but that I just had no desire to do that sort of stuff in high school and that not experiencing it was, well, no terrible loss. It's just that now, now that my friends and I want to have a party with drinks, now that we feel like it's something we're comfortable with, now that we're practically legal or are legal, it feels weird being in these situations. Wondering how the hell sixteen year olds got alcohol when we can't even buy it when we're 21. Trying to fathom how they got a whole case of beer in the house with no one noticing. Wondering how they actually felt like getting drunk because, after all that work, we all only had about one to three drinks apiece.
http://www.cartoonstock.com
Oh, things I missed being a non-stereotypical sort of teenager... I don't regret it, I don't miss not having these experiences. It just leave a whole lot of things to be wondered for me. Also I never got invited to parties... so, yeah. There's that. Personally, I think having these firsts now is incredibly more entertaining for myself. I'm more comfortable with who I am, I'm more ready to try new things. I'm doing it because I want to do it - not because of peer pressure, or to fit in, or anything. And there's that added benefit of comedic tension at out attempts to have these experiences now. Now that we're the anomalies for not doing this years ago.
Really, it's not so much that I sucked at being a teenager. I just sucked at living up to the stereotypes of the American teenager - which is a rebellion in itself, isn't it?
It's been a rough start to the New Year, what with the wisdom teeth removal and all. So by the time our friends' holiday party rolled around on Wednesday, the one that caused all the trouble before the semester ended, I was kind of worried about it. I mean, any of a number of things could have gone wrong.
Amazingly, nothing did. [Львица] and I decorated our apartment rather majestically, I think, even giving Mo the cat a little pink bow. We cooked for half the day (wondrous Alaskan salmon and halibut, and chicken broccoli alfredo for those peculiar people who don't like fish) and had ample time left to set up ambiance music, rearrange chairs, and mock our friends for not being on time.
Things were perhaps a little hard to ease into at first, with offering drinks and trying to get people to decide whether they were hungry or not (our friends are historically indecisive). But once dinner had been served and drinks refilled and Secret Santa gifts were opened, things began to feel much more comfortable and relaxed to me. I was fortunate enough to have [shortage of perfect breasts] as my Secret Santa, the only other person there, other than [Львица], who could possibly know about or understand my obsession with Torchwood. So I was blown away by and totally grateful for her gift - a downloaded and burned DVD of Friday Night Project hosted by John Barrowman, and a home-knitted pillow (made by [shortage of perfect breasts] herself) with the Torchwood logo on one side and my first initial on the other. It's the best Secret Santa gift I've ever gotten. I wish I knew how to show her how thankful I am, without seeming ridiculous. It's a rather wibbly-wobbly line, that.
I managed to talk to [X] and [novel killer] without any apparent weirdness (but by that time, I'd already several drinks). I assured [X] that I was totally over [No-Mr-Darcy] and she informed me that it was just as well, as he believes that a woman's place is in the kitchen (it, of course, no longer matters, if he really thinks that, but it's just as well things didn't work out because, if it's true, I probably would have beaten him up). I tried tequila - bizarre, not my favorite, but not bad. I felt closer to my friends then than I had in years. I suddenly had high, high hopes that I was going to be able to move on from all of the things that had been bothering me about my friendships, that if we'd been able to hang on this long, that maybe we could forge ahead into the future. That even thought sometimes we have our issues, that they treat me better and understand me more than the rest of the world. There wasn't any peer pressure to drink and I didn't drink too much and I felt comfortably tipsy. All was good.
Perhaps I was seeing the world through rosy-colored lenses (or maybe liquor-tinted ones. I did have two glasses of wine, a Guinness, a shot of tequila, and a Heineken. Far more than I have ever drunk before - and yet I wasn't drunk; have I inherited my father's liver?) Everything seemed beautiful and I had no worries. I felt beautiful, important; nothing hurt.
I wish all nights could be like this one; I know they can't - later in the week would prove this true. But this night - this one night - made me feel better than I had in days. Maybe weeks. It didn't last but it's a positive sign for me - a sign that when I finally get those cruel little voices in my head to shut up, life is good. No negative self-thoughts - that was a New Year's resolution, after all :)
Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.
That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.
http://freethoughtblogs.com
This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...
Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).
But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.
Last night was another excursion to the Saloon and was also my first time at a club as a 21 year old. So, because it was a total life tile opportunity, I got a cosmopolitan, which I'd never had before, kindly paid for by [Львица]. It was really quite good. I'd still drink a martini first, but if I was in the mood for something sweet - yeah, definitely would go for a cosmo. It was also two-for-one so I ended up with two cosmos. And then [save the panzer]'s friend - who seems to think he's his boyfriend - [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] insisted on buying me a drink. And because I don't want to pass up a free drink, especially from a man, especially because [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] wouldn't take no for an answer, especially because I wanted to try something I'd never had before - an Orgasm (okay, wow, I just wrote that and out of context that sounds REALLY funny. I just meant the drink, guys), I consented (poor word choice. Now I'm just digging a hole... dammit). So I ended up with what were supposed to be two Orgasms. Except that [Львица] is taking bar-tending classes. And she knows what's supposed to be in the drinks. An Orgasm is supposed to contain Bailey's Irish Cream. There was no Bailey's in sight. In fact, it looked more like Sex on the Beach (I'm thinking I tasted peach schnapps in it... there was hit of something like that in there).
It did kind of look like that. It was also pretty... sweet. And way too much alcohol for little ole me. So I ditched the drinks, trying not to think too hard about whether [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] changed the drink orders on purpose or because he was totally smashed, and went to go dance, and had my dance moves critiqued by a man I'd seen there before (the same one who complemented me on my sparkly dress. No fancy dress last night for me - it was too damn cold. So just jeans and a shirt). I think my dancing makes gay men cringe. Awesome.
In other major events, [Львица] got hit on by a Russian man. I realized that alcohol makes me care less about sucking at dancing. We all tried not to get forever embarrassed by [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. Yet another great night out :D
Also, I would just like to say that LMAO's "Sexy and I Know It" is the best dance song ever. Just because of reasons. It's ridiculous. And fabulous.
It's happened... I'm officially 21 years old. It's incredible. Actually, yesterday was just incredible in general. Here's the basic run-down of my big, fat twenty-first birthday:
Around eleven o'clock, I started getting ready for my parents to come pick me up. I got a phone call from [X], with [the artist] yelling in the background, both wishing me a happy day. It was a slightly awkward conversation because I got the feeling [X] didn't quite know what to say, but I didn't care - I was glad she called. Then I realized it was snowing - oh, joy of joys! - and my hopes and dreams and prayers for snow on my birthday were answered. Except that I think maybe I'd been hoping a little too much... we got quite a bit more snow than I was expecting. But win - total win!
Due to the sudden onslaught of snow, my parents were a little later than expected, but no matter. We headed over to Brit's Pub, where I had two Strongbows, talked way too much about Scotland, and ate Scotch eggs. Then we ambled over to The Local, had Irish coffee and fish and chips (and got carded - for the first and last time of the day. I was rather shocked. Only one out of three waitresses thought I looked younger than 21? I was surprised. "Are you telling me that I could have tried this long ago and not gotten carded?" I asked my dad. "Probably," he replied. "I can tell by body language - waitresses always treat you like you're older." I must admit this was a bit anti-climatic. Oh well.) Then we crossed the street to The Newsroom, which used to have really good food, but now it was just kind of mediocre. My crab mac and cheese was far too salty. And I made myself content with water because my mom ordered a margarita, didn't even like how it was mixed and discovered it was $11. Shit.
So, to make up for that blip, we went to O'Donnovans, another Irish pub, had another Irish coffee and got free samples of this cake-flavored vodka by Three Olives. Now, flavored vodka always kind of sounded gross to me. BUT THIS WAS FANTASTIC. Mixed with pineapple juice and amaretto, it made this drink that tasted like pineapple upside-down cake. It was really brilliant. So my dad ordered a drink called coffee cake, that included the flavored vodka, Bailey's Irish cream, and coffee (and whipped cream. Absolutely has to have whipped cream). The bartender accidentally made a shot as well, so we got two drinks for the price of one and shared them. My dad then told the girls doing the promoting that it was my birthday, so I got my picture taken with them and a free tiara, which I then proceeded to wear until we left the bar, when I decided that I was tired and a total light-weight and it was time to go home. So home I went to discover what present my parents had bought me (a gift set of two shot glasses and Jameson Irish whiskey - for the win :D ) and to watch SNL (and a brilliant performance by Florence + The Machine) with [Львица].
Sadly I had a stomach ache for most of the night and a better part of
this morning (too much food, too much alcohol, too much sweet stuff, too
much fun) but other than that it was absolutely perfect. It was the best birthday ever. And it's made me feel that things are only going to get better from here. Thanks to everyone for their warm birthday wishes and gifts - the kindness and generosity I saw made me all warm and fuzzy and felt so loved. I have the best friends and family in the world :)
I love surprises. Absolutely love them. So when I came home from class on Thursday to find this box sitting on the table, I was giddy with delight.
Cupcakes!!!!! From the cafe Cupcake no less. I was sooooo happy. However, I soon realized that this was just the beginning of the gift finding. I walked into my room and was face-to-face with this:
There was a card with it, with a wonderfully sweet message from [Львица]. I began getting paranoid that something was going to jump out at me. So I looked in my closet and found this:
Cute t-shirt for the win! And then I closed the closet door to find this:
A Guinness poster - from Ireland! [Львица]'s father bought it there years ago and bequeathed it me. I owe you one, sir - I absolutely adore this. I thought that was it. Until I walked into the kitchen and found this on the fridge:
And then...
GUINNESS!!!!!!!!!!
My life was made - cupcakes, ample attractive pictures of the lovely John Barrowman, and Guinness. There is truly nothing more I need in life. Except that [Львица] seemed to disagree. Because as we were going out to dinner, I found two gift cards (and two more John Barrowman pics) taped to my coat and scarf - one for a cafe, one for a ice cream shop. Seriously, could it get better?
It did. I got gnocchi and calamari at Buca Di Beppos, had my first experience with restaurant waiters singing a birthday song to me (I felt so special!!!!). And when I got home, I nearly died laughing to find that I'd been carrying another gift in my purse the entire time - a mustache flask :D It was fantastic.
And then I found the last Guinness hiding in the medicine cabinet (the other had been with Mo's food and I'd discovered it before we went to dinner). Note to self - [Львица] is EXTREMELY GOOD at surprises and hiding things. It was a totally victory on her part and I much appreciate it. Thank you so much, m'dear - it really means a lot to me :)
It's not even my birthday yet and things are already fantastic. Looking forward to tomorrow - dinner with my parents and my first drink in an American bar. Epic win :D
Last night, I participated in an event I intended to brag about, as only a culture vulture can - I attended the world premiere of a new opera. Silent Night is a new work based off of the French movie by the same name, about the seize fire in World War I held over the Christmas of 1914. It's about the French, Scottish and German forces in this battle who came together over this holiday and found peace amongst the chaos of war.
Honestly, the Minnesota Opera couldn't have chosen a better night to premiere it than the day after Veterans Day. It was absolutely fantastic to see all of the service men and women in their dress uniforms at the show - it added an added element of importance and significance to the event.
Now, when it comes to opera, I'm very wet behind the ears. I've actually only been to the opera once before and all I know about the art form comes from my combined knowledge of musical training and Italian. That's not to say I know NOTHING about opera - I know a bit. I'm just not an aficionado. Broadway shows will always be my preferred form of musical theater, but this show certainly gave me a new appreciation for opera. The scenery, the storyline, the portrayal itself - it was all brilliant. Karin Wolverton, the soprano who played Anna Sorensen, sang wonderfully and performed an absolutely marvelous aria towards the end of the first act - it was truly my favorite part of the show.
Unfortunately, the tenor who sang the part of Nikolaus Sprink, William Burden, contracted laryngitis the day of the show and couldn't sing. So, while he walked the stage, a former resident of the Opera, Brad Benoit (an audience favorite, it seemed) sang offstage. It was a little odd to see someone acting and having the voice reverberating from stage left, but it worked. The two worked well together and, while I feel dreadfully sorry that Burden couldn't sing for the premiere, I'm glad he was still able to perform the part.
Being able to attend a world premiere still boggles my mind. Walking in and seeing the spotlights shining into the night sky outside, seeing a group of kilted bagpipers walk outside to perform for the arriving audience, being surrounded by people impeccably dressed (more so than any other theater show I've attended) and hearing accents of those who had traveled a long way to see a premiere all emphasized that this was a special night in Twin City theater. But what really hit home for me was the singing of the national anthem at the beginning of the show. Afterwards, [Львица] turned to me and said, "That was the best I've ever sung in my life... I feel like I was a part of the opera there." I felt exactly the same.
[Львица] kindly reminded me today that it's only 10 days until my 21st birthday. Which I knew, but hadn't consciously been cognizant of. Which is a fancy way of saying, Holy fuck, it's nearly my birthday and I've been so busy trying not to think about it and get ridiculously over excited that I actually kind of forgot for a moment.
So yeah. 21 on November 19th. It's gonna be THE SHIT. Finally I can legally drink. Finally I can have that Guinness I've been longing to have at a pub ever since I left part of my soul in Glasgow. And finally, I can stop worrying about what people have got planned for me. Seriously, last year I got a secret cake and an epic Ewan McGregor card and a Trainspotting poster. It was pretty much ridiculously awesome. Today, I had to wait outside the apartment while [Львица] was telling her father about... whatever the gift is. And now I'm insanely curious. 10 days. And all shall be revealed.
So Sunday night I spent one evening not being a good little student and studying for shit (because, really, eight hours spent on one midterm is far too much). So I went with [Львица] and [save the panzer] to the Saloon. I've mentioned it before - it was the gay bar we went to after La Cage Aux Folles. Unfortunately, now I can't get the song "Gay Bar" by Electric Six out of my head, and it's sort of distracting.
My shoes :D WIN
Anyway, I decided I would wear my new ridiculous glittery dress that I bought at Forever 21 before Halloween. And damn - it was a hit. A guy approached me and asked why I was so glittery and wanted to trade outfits. Another guy on the dance floor began dancing with me and complimented my attire and his friend complimented my shoes (okay, the shoes were pretty kickass. The fact that I was actually able to dance and stand and MOVE in them at all totally blows my mind). And when the guy who danced with me left the bar, he came up to me and said, "Keep wearing dresses like that and you'll be good to go."
It was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I felt on top of the world the rest of the night and the better part of Monday. Perhaps only gay men can appreciate the awesomeness of a sparkly dress. But I think it wouldn't hurt straight men to work on their compliments. I mean, even [save the panzer]'s somewhat obnoxious friend [tower of babble] called me gorgeous and gave me some pleasant compliments (I think he also might have went into a tangent about how if he weren't gay, he'd sleep with me... which was awkward. And after he discovered I wasn't a lesbian, he also volunteered to be my wing man at the bar. Which kind of baffled me - why would you, as a gay man, try and hook a straight girl up with a guy in a bar THAT IS PREDOMINATELY FULL OF GAY MEN? Regardless, I appreciate his enthusiasm). Given all of that, I don't know if you could consider [tower of babble]'s compliments totally sincere, but you know, I'll take it. It's the second time I've been called gorgeous by a gay man (the other time was in Scotland, by one of the students.) You know how many times I've been called beautiful or gorgeous by a straight man? NEVER.
See what you're competing with, straight men? Either you need to step up your game or I need to reassess my priorities. Or I need to stop meeting dumb guys who make the straight male population look bad. And so my promotion of being undateable continues...
This is turning out to be the best Halloween I've had in years.
It isn't going how we were planning - we hoped to go to a club or a party with our fabulous costumes. But there aren't many exciting events on Saturday night that aren't 21+... curse our youthfulness! So [Львица] and I decided to go back to our hometown of Lakeville for the weekend and spend it with our families.
I was somewhat disappointed - just because I built up this whole fairytale idea of having a Halloween extravaganza that I realistically should have known wouldn't happen. Sometimes, being a Romantic totally blows. Especially when you're an obsessive Romantic.
Tangent time - Am I obsessive? Stupid question, coming from the girl who's blogged about Torchwood and John Barrowman more than anything else this past month. It's been on my mind a lot - yes, I've been obsessing about obsessing :P - because of a Facebook conversation I had with X:
Me: I've always had an Scotland obsession. But now it's worse. incredibly worse.
[X]: I can't imagine... especially with your talent for obsession. (You have to admit, you're good at it. ;) )
Of course, I come back with a smile and agree that I'm a pro at obsessing... but am I really THAT obsessive? I am obsessive - it's a Scorpio trait, I'm a pro at ruminating, I tend to blabber on about the same things forever. But am I EXTREMELY obsessive? Like, to the point where I can't tell if [X] means this in a jesting manner or if she's referring to how I obsessed over [No-Mr-Darcy]. And [tedesco]. And a zillion different movies and books and such. Am taking part in a normal human trait? Or going too far? Do people just humor me because they think it's cute that I fixate for one things for extended periods of time? Or are they creeped out?
I worry about this because of how I reacted Thursday night. Admittedly, I just saw Ianto die on Torchwood and was utterly devastated (yet another sign of obsession, right?) but when [Львица]'s plans changed for Halloween, I suddenly a sudden impact with reality. It wasn't [Львица]'s fault or anything; it was just that I suddenly realized that there wasn't anything for us to do, exactly, for under 21s. And that my whole building up for some sort of magical Halloween experience wasn't going to happen. And suddenly this whole spiral of worry that I hadn't been consciously thinking about unfurled. I realized that I'm spending more time thinking about fictional things than real life, that I'm stuck fantasizing about the impossible, that I have totally unrealistic expectations for love and life and shit...
Yeah, it really had nothing to do with the pre-Halloween events. It had more to do with this.
In my cultural studies class on Thursday, we were talking again about Monsieur Lefebvre's ideas of culture and his harsh critique of Surrealism. Our professor had been lecturing at us how there is a distinct difference between the wondrous and unexpected in real life and what Surrealists/ literary modernists are involved in - the magical, marvelous and bizarre. Our professor argues that the bizarre prevents us from seeing the wondrous in real life, that it does anything but look the harsh realities of everyday life in the face and instead paints it garish colors and injects it with a life it doesn't have.
There's some truth in this. I mean, some things completely obscure reality and can be dangerous, in high amounts. But I feel like many things labeled surrealist or modernist don't ignore reality - maybe they just don't want to deal with it ALL THE TIME. Maybe sometimes, a small escape isn't so bad. Not ALL the time, clearly. But can you blame me or anyone else for want to run to sci-fi or shopping or chick flicks or going out with the guys when life gets shitty? Sometimes we need to forget, for just a short period, about the parts of our lives that suck so we can see the wonderfulness of our everyday lives. I overestimate the ability for people to see the amazing-ness of everyday life, but I believe that people do see it. But sometimes you need the escape first. Of course, I'm being a total bourgeois here, but I REALLY don't want to discuss that at the moment. So I'm being an inappropriate cultural studies student here. But I'm not really trying to be a cultural studies student. So don't judge me.
Anyway, that's exactly what I did - escaped. I stopped worrying about whether or not my using Torchwood as a way to escape the monotony of this semester is ruining my perception of reality for five minutes and... used a different way of escaping. [Львица] and I went to the Mall of America on Friday afternoon for some retail therapy (yes, yes, as a cultural studies student I KNOW this is a sign of the power of consumer culture. But sometimes it really works, at least for the short term. Which, of course, is the drawback). I bought two incredibly cute dresses, one little black dress and a fantastic sequined phenomenon. Shown here:
Yes, I admit the sequined one is would not typically be my choice. But after seeing La Cage - and I need a party dress - and I love the colors - AND I LOOK FANTASTIC IN IT. Which was mind-blowing to me, she who usually looks terrible in tight tiny dresses. So win. Epic win :D
I traipsed around Friday and Saturday in my "costume" which was my totally ridiculous way of having a Halloween costume without buying anything. Thus I was Gwen Cooper from Torchwood, since I have a similar black leather jacket and pencil jeans. And boots - lots of boots. A costume and my favorite TV show combined. Win-win. [Львица] and I carved pumpkins on Saturday morning which was FABULOUS. Talk about noticing the magic of everyday. There was something truly amazing about cutting into those fresh, fragrant gourds and scooping out the seeds to roast and coat with cinnamon-sugar or salt. Especially cutting into the one I carved, a funny, wild-shaped one that had the oddest, oblong seeds and an aroma more like butternut squash than pumpkin. Our carvings turned out really well. [Львица]'s birdcage was incredible and my goofy face didn't fair too badly either :)
Our pumpkins :)
And that evening I went out to dinner to Kieran's Irish pub with my parents. It's one of my favorite restaurants and was wonderfully decorated with Halloween decorations. I got a good night's sleep at home, watched a spooky movie with my parents and got to nibble on Halloween candy (I forgot how much I actually like Almond Joys, by the way).
So, nothing fancy. Just everyday. But magical none the less. Maybe my cultural studies prof has a point after all. But I don't carve pumpkins everyday... how can I really call it that? OMG, why do I keep doing this to myself? I don't need to keep theorizing my life - that's what got me into this problem to begin with. IT'S MY LIFE. What happens, happens. Whether everyday, wondrous or bizarre. And I need to stop criticizing how I feel all the time - otherwise I truly will loose grip on reality.
Tomorrow's Halloween - another school day, a dress rehearsal for my band concert. Nothing super exciting. But who knows - I still think there is something magical about this holiday, whether anything extraordinary happens or not. It doesn't need to. It just... feels magical, no matter what.
I finally saw La Cage Aux Folles at the State Theater last night.
OH. MY. GOD. I LOVED IT. LOVEDLOVEDLOVEDLOVEDLOVED IT.
There's a trick to going to Broadway shows, I've learned. - walk in there knowing the bare minimum about the show. That makes it SO much more exciting. Like Cabaret, which was my favorite musical (up until now) - I knew very little about it walking in. I didn't connect that, even thought it was Berlin in the 1930s, there would be Nazis in it. So when they showed up, I was like, "Holy shit." The plot twists are also a lot more spectacular without knowing the whole show. Which just makes it fun in general.
So I walked into La Cage Aux Folles knowing that it was about a gay couple in the 1960s, one of who owns a nightclub where men perform dressed as women. And that my most favorite Broadway song of all time is in it (which I'll post below, even thought it's elsewhere on this blog. But this version is sung by John Barrowman, so naturally I could post it a thousand times and never grow sick of it):
What I didn't know is that IT'S THE BEST BROADWAY SHOW I'VE EVER SEEN. Seriously. It is. Albin is the cutest, most wonderful, most interesting character I've seen onstage ever. And the actor who played him, Christopher Sieber, was PHENOMENAL. And he's from Minnesota. So yeah, win-win. Plus the storyline is just so... emotional. And kind of personal. Like, I didn't realize that "I am what I am" was sung right after Albin is told by Georges that who he is isn't what their son Jean-Michel wants around to meet his to-be in-laws. I cannot even fathom how painful that must be. I'm generally moved to tears by the performance of this song, but I definitely teared up big-time last night seeing it live. And kudos to me for sending it to [uber gay] when his family told him to change himself around relatives and he was totally upset. I made the perfect connection without even realizing it.
This show is just so.... feel-good. Much more so than Cabaret, which is probably why La Cage has now replaced it as my favorite (sorry, Cabaret, you're wonderful, but you're just kind of a downer). I mean, I walked out of there feeling on top of the world, feeling great about myself and feeling great about entire world and just wanted to run out and start volunteering for the HRC or the No H8 campaign or something (I would be already, except a little something called school has gotten in the way). But now I have serious motivation to do so. I mean, four... okay, five, because FINALLY we learned that one of our friends from high school, [save the panzer], is gay - so five of my closest friends are gay. So it's kind of a personal topic for me. And I'm beginning wonder if I can't identify as a gay man in a straight woman's body (okay, queer theorists of the world, is this possible? I seem to have a thing for gay men, but I'm a straight woman? Or am I just a straight woman with unlucky taste? How exactly would I discern if I act somewhat like a gay man? How would you know? How would anyone know? What if all women are just gay men in women's bodies? Whoa, that's going a tad bit too far... And this is one hell of a tangent...).
Barrowman... heels... sparkles... I am both envious and a little turned on. What the hell does that mean?!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... As a perfect way to end the evening, we went to The Saloon, a popular gay bar in the area. Despite the fact that it got some bad reviews from the people we went to the Gay 90s with last year, it was nicer than the 90s. And they played sweet music. And had some nice Halloween decorating. And damn, boy - [save the panzer] can dance. And I realized I LIKE CLUBBING. At least at gay bars. Well, it was great until a strange man older than my father asked me if I wanted to dance. Then it got a bit weird. Otherwise, a great way to end the night.
I just can't get over how good this show was. Like, I went out to dinner tonight with my parents and it was all I could to keep from talking about it the entire time. Why did I like it so damn much? A brief analysis:
1) IT WAS AMAZING. Fantastic costumes, choreography, comedy, romance - it tour de force of Broadway excellence. No matter what Star Tribune said: screw you guys. I hate your website anyway. Although you were right about George Hamilton.
2) It made me proud to be a woman. Yes, a show about gay men made me proud to be a woman. Why? Well, when I was younger, I was terrified to be girly. I didn't think it fit my personality, I felt like people judged me for wanting to be girly - like they just thought I'd be another dumb appearance-absorbed chick (not to mention I was friends with some girls who either didn't care about how they looked. At least they pretended to not care), and I didn't think a lot of feminine clothes would fit my not super-skinny, somewhat-boyish frame. Somewhere between high school and college I decided, "Fuck that shit," and went all out for girly clothes. Like dresses. And heels. OH MY GOD. Do I love wearing heels, no matter what [X] or anyone else says. Heels make you feel like the shit. Ones you can walk in and still look hot? They rule. They make you feel like you can kick total ass. Anyway, my point is, seeing men wear heels and having them totally understand that it takes a bit of still to stay afloat in those babies makes you feel... well, understood. Seeing men totally rocking sequins and feathers and sparkles and all the things women are supposed to like but often get made fun of for liking - well, it was damn nice to see men looking great in them, relating to women, and being their own person, being so comfortable with their own bodies. It made me feel glad to have worn heels and made me feel way less self-conscious dancing at The Saloon later. I could go into a bunch of theories as why this might be, but I don't need theories right now. I'm just glad it had that effect.
One of the reasons why this IS a gay anthem is the fact that it helped
give us a sense of pride in the eighties at a time when thousands and
thousands of our friends and lovers were being wiped away by AIDS. Half
of the original Broadway cast of La Cage had died before the show ended
its run in 1987. And the composer Jerry Herman himself found out that he
was infected as well. This is 'lump in the throat' music for me and
always will be. Thank you George, thank you Jerry. Thank you so much.
This is mind-blowing to me. Half of the original cast DIED?! That is so terribly, terribly sad. I guess you could say the effect of this show was like the Rent of the 1980s. And now I feel like it wouldn't be a bad time for people my age to see this show, especially given the bullying directed towards GLBT youth. Especially since it's so upbeat. An "It Gets Better" campaign before "It Gets Better" campaigns? For the win, La Cage, for the win.
So, anyway, the take home message: see the show. But enough of me talking about the show - why not have John Barrowman, who starred in one of the revivals, tell you about it? (Trust me, it's worth it :D)
Something about Saturday was absolutely beautiful. I'm talking last Saturday afternoon, sitting at a stage at the Renaissance Festival, watching the sunlight stream through the breaks between the multi-colored leaves on the branches, the smell of turkey legs and dust and burning wood in the air and the feeling that I was in some sort of time outside of time. Being at the Ren Fest is not about historical accuracy, clearly. Everyone is dressed in... well, whatever. Some people come in street clothes, some, like [Львица] and myself, have costumes that shift somewhere between the Middle Ages and the Baroque period. Although last week - closing weekend - I did see someone dressed as Death and someone dressed as Jesus. Right next to each other. Win.
I've seen more confusing wardrobe choices - a manga-sort character. A man dressed as a 1950's funeral parlor zombie. A guy in a neckbrace in some sort of greenish plastic tube top and shorts (I think he was wearing shorts. Or maybe it was some sort of wrap skirt) complaining about how fat he was (he was stick-thin, but whatever) and the girl he was with telling him the neckbrace adds ten pounds. Next year, I'm on the look-out for someone dressed as a time lord (actually, it makes more sense to see the Doctor than it does to see Jesus. Sorry, it's the truth).
Case and point - the Ren Fest is not so much about the Renaissance sometimes. Sometimes it's an excuse to dress up - sometimes it goes to far that direction, I agree. But it's also a sort of escape - not in a depressing, "oh, my life is too much!" kind of way, but more of a way to get outside of what we're used to. We don't go around wearing corsets, trying to do without modern technology, living under monarchs and that sort of things. It's a taste of fantasy, a bit of time travel mixed with fairy tales. It's not perfect - sometimes it's awkward. But it's usually a lot of fun.
And for those of you who think it's only for nerds, check out the pickle men and the belly dancers. You will be sadly mistaken.
What is the difference between these two items commonly sold on a stick a the "Great Minnesota Get-Together?"
Yes, I'm being an jerk. But the exact same picture came up when I Googled both "corn dog" and "pronto pup." Obviously, the difference is more than visual. Thanks to this post, I fact-checked what I thought the difference was: State Fair: Corn Dog vs. Pronto Pup. One uses batter made of corn meal (hence corn dog) and the other uses batter made of flour. Also, according to a friend, pronto pups have the skin of the hot dog taken off while the corn dog doesn't.
So there you go. Not that it matters that much. Go enjoy all that tasty unhealthy wonderfulness on the last day of the fair. I'll be there... then off to the first day of classes tomorrow...
