1.26.2008
Green Street Grill
Had dinner last night at the Green Street Grill in Cambridge. The bartenders were friendly and attentive and knowledgeable about the many micro brews they serve. When we were seated things went downhill. For anything and everything we had to flag down the waiter or waitress, who seemed to both be handling our table. He didn't ask how our appetizers. Then our entrees took 45 minutes to come out. C's monk fish was a surprisingly small portion. I had a lukewarm bouillabaisse, with over salted broth, topped with a deep friend piece of cod that was reminiscent of a meal at Long John Silvers. I'm not asking for perfection, or for a doting affectionate waitstaff, but servers in a half full dining room should be able to check in on us a few times in the space of 2 hours. That's the last meal I'll be having there.
1.21.2008
Spent the weekend in Vermont. Did some snowshoeing, a lot of reading and a little bit of writing. I pulled Chris Bohjalian's The Law of Similars off the bookshelf and was immediately engrossed. It's a homeopathic thriller. If that's not enough to peak your interest then I don't know what is.
1.19.2008
John Bustine - Waltzes & Pleas
My friend Justin, who records under the name John Bustine, just released his first full-length album Waltzes & Pleas.
You can listen to the album on his Myspace Page or purchase it from Gypsy Records. Justin is a talented musician, father and mail carrier who lives in D.C. His music, like his personality, is both dark and wonderful.
1.07.2008
My Essay in Lovely Magazine
Lovely Magazine is an Internet fashion and beauty magazine run out of Boston. Check out my essay in the January issue.
Lovely Magazine
Here's the original essay. The version in Lovely Magazine is slightly edited.
This Time Last Year
Yet another year has fluttered past and as January is about to wrap its cold arms around us the upcoming New Year looms as an undeniable mile marker. New Year’s resolutions have never really caught my fancy. Especially over the past two years I’ve come to realize that one lofty, and often un-kept, resolution or goal for the coming year is a flimsy, one dimensional way to inflict change. It also does not lend itself to helping me realize and understand the changes, both positive and negative, that have occurred in my life and in myself.
Things have changed a lot for me over the past couple of years. After a long time I am no longer a student. I have struggled with, re-thought, and transformed my ambitions and goals. My relationship with my family has changed and I have begun to want a family of my own. I have come up against difficult and often painful obstacles in my job, in my friendships, and with my boyfriend. I have experienced a kind of sadness and longing that I had not known before.
Sometimes while driving down a stretch of highway, or waiting on a subway platform, or lying in bed in the morning as the minutes tick by, I ask myself, “Where was I this time last year?” When I ask myself this question I slide back into the past for several minutes. Where was I? Who was I with? Most important is the emotional quality of the memory: tenderness, anxiety, bittersweet love, longing, rage, hopelessness, tranquility. This exercise is not always pleasant; it may be a painful process, cumbersome, bitter, grievous, oppressive, and even pitiful, but its saving grace is that it allows me to observe change. I don’t do this to paint a grandiose picture that each New Year is filled with hope and promise, but simply to remind myself that change comes. It comes in painful waves. It comes in gentle currents. It comes in the form of joyful noises and incomprehensible cacophonies. But surely it will come.
It is hard to recognize subtle change in ourselves as we go about our everyday lives. My failures and accomplishments stand out as bold lines on the grid of my life. But these emotional trysts with the past are clear and palpable ways to place my emotions in this greater context. Such reflection makes it possible to see the curve in the arc of my life. Not how I overcame sadness and anger but that I did, and am capable of doing so again. This exercise shows me how far I have come. What changes I have made. What changes I have failed to make. It shows me that longing is often misplaced, that sadness does diminish over time, that strength can come at totally unexpected times and also be mistaken for weakness, that I may not always know myself as well as I thought I did.
Reflection need not always be a soul searching and difficult process. After all, this time last year I was no doubt sitting at this very desk, drinking from this very same mug, and writing as I waited for the heat to kick on and warm my numbing feet. This year I won’t make any resolutions, but surly I will visit that decision again as I look back on the memory of writing this essay.
Lovely Magazine
Here's the original essay. The version in Lovely Magazine is slightly edited.
This Time Last Year
Yet another year has fluttered past and as January is about to wrap its cold arms around us the upcoming New Year looms as an undeniable mile marker. New Year’s resolutions have never really caught my fancy. Especially over the past two years I’ve come to realize that one lofty, and often un-kept, resolution or goal for the coming year is a flimsy, one dimensional way to inflict change. It also does not lend itself to helping me realize and understand the changes, both positive and negative, that have occurred in my life and in myself.
Things have changed a lot for me over the past couple of years. After a long time I am no longer a student. I have struggled with, re-thought, and transformed my ambitions and goals. My relationship with my family has changed and I have begun to want a family of my own. I have come up against difficult and often painful obstacles in my job, in my friendships, and with my boyfriend. I have experienced a kind of sadness and longing that I had not known before.
Sometimes while driving down a stretch of highway, or waiting on a subway platform, or lying in bed in the morning as the minutes tick by, I ask myself, “Where was I this time last year?” When I ask myself this question I slide back into the past for several minutes. Where was I? Who was I with? Most important is the emotional quality of the memory: tenderness, anxiety, bittersweet love, longing, rage, hopelessness, tranquility. This exercise is not always pleasant; it may be a painful process, cumbersome, bitter, grievous, oppressive, and even pitiful, but its saving grace is that it allows me to observe change. I don’t do this to paint a grandiose picture that each New Year is filled with hope and promise, but simply to remind myself that change comes. It comes in painful waves. It comes in gentle currents. It comes in the form of joyful noises and incomprehensible cacophonies. But surely it will come.
It is hard to recognize subtle change in ourselves as we go about our everyday lives. My failures and accomplishments stand out as bold lines on the grid of my life. But these emotional trysts with the past are clear and palpable ways to place my emotions in this greater context. Such reflection makes it possible to see the curve in the arc of my life. Not how I overcame sadness and anger but that I did, and am capable of doing so again. This exercise shows me how far I have come. What changes I have made. What changes I have failed to make. It shows me that longing is often misplaced, that sadness does diminish over time, that strength can come at totally unexpected times and also be mistaken for weakness, that I may not always know myself as well as I thought I did.
Reflection need not always be a soul searching and difficult process. After all, this time last year I was no doubt sitting at this very desk, drinking from this very same mug, and writing as I waited for the heat to kick on and warm my numbing feet. This year I won’t make any resolutions, but surly I will visit that decision again as I look back on the memory of writing this essay.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
I read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Le scaphandre et le papillon)several years ago and was deeply moved by it. I was skeptical about the adaption to screen, but it is a beautiful and touching film. The story, both book and movie, serve as a reminder about the power of words, language, communication, stories and memories.
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