"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."

Not the most uplifting of blogs, but hey, I needed to rant. 

Everything is fleeting.  It never seemed so before, but since getting to school it’s all I can  say about the way time flies.  Being in a big university in a big city, where people come and go from school, their homes, co-ops, and jobs-- any of which can be as close as Boylston, Massachusetts or Stony Brook on Long Island, or as difficult to visit as Fort Mitchell, Kentucky or Sarasota, Florida, OR as far off as Egypt or China or Australia.  People are here one semester and then just gone before you have the chance to really connect.  Life moves so quickly.  You can't keep EVERYONE you meet in your life, but there's practically no time to develop anything before you have to choose whether to move on or not.  It's so difficult.    

The word "hiatus" is a really effective word.  Something about it implies its meaning while sounding sophisticated.

Al and Shannon are hanging out in La Venue of Sabrina while we all do work.  It's rather lovely, especially since I was away from my sweet angelface friends all weekend.

Speaking of La Venue de Tasha and Sabrina, I have a crystal-clear memory of moving into 933 IV on August 31, 2011.  Tasha was walking out of IV and I was walking in when we first met.  We clicked right from the beginning, and then went up to arrange the room.  I just have this Nikon picture in my head of the white, white walls and bare beds and empty closets.  And I was trying to figure out how to make that room feel like home.  I can’t imagine anything else now.  There are pictures all over and cards and tickets and playbills and posters hanging everywhere, there’s leftover Christmas decorations, there’s random secret message crap hanging all over from the Rageous War, and there are messes and clothes and food and homework all over.  The room is so lived-in.  In less than two weeks, it’s all gotta go.  It’s terrifying.  It was one thing packing up all my clothes and things at home and bringing them to school-- it wasn’t actually everything I own.  Whenever I go home there’s still pajamas and shoes and hair ties and books waiting for me.  That room has never been entirely purged.  933 IV will be though.  There’s got to be nothing left.  

One other thing is bothering me.  Since getting to school I’ve learned a lot about music and my future and myself and I’ve met FANTASTIC people and we’ve had the most wonderful adventures and jokes and bonding experiences in the course of a year.  Of course it’s going to go on next year, but that’s also what’s going to happen this summer (after I’m done being bedridden from surgery).  And that’s what happens whenever I go home and reconnect with my friends and family there.  I gained so, so much at school.  More than I have room for in my life.  I’m now in this awkward position where I will never have all of those people and classes and music in my life at one time.  All these things that make up my life and who I am, I won’t ever be able to fit into my life.  There will always be someone or something missing, right down to where I am; I love New York and I love Boston but I can’t have both things I love at once.  This understanding doesn’t fit into my schema of how life works.  I’m confused by knowing that my life will never be complete all at once.  I don’t quite know how to handle it.  That was what I loved a lot about my Sweet Sixteen--everyone and everything that mattered made it into one night.  Granted, my life has grown and gained so many more dimensions since then that I couldn’t even recreate that feeling at my Graduation Party (I had to have two to accomodate everyone!).  I’d never choose to go back to only knowing that small corner of the world, but it was a perfect night for that time of my life.  I don’t foresee a day when I’ll ever be so whole again.  I don’t mean to complain about being lucky enough to have such a full life; it’s just a paradox I’m living with.  A lot of kids my age are going to have to live with it.  

On a happier note, Doctor Who and Chinese food go together excellently, as I learned last night after a 7 hour journey from Smithtown to Boston.  It made me feel much better about my crappy Monday. 

Quotes of the Day: 

"Oh by the way, how's your Yiddish?" Feinstein

"ME WOVE WOU!!" Note left by my darling brother and sister and discovered by me today.

Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true.

The most important happening of the last few weeks would undoubtedly be Delia's Sweet Sixteen.  The whole occasion was beautiful, both aesthetically and in nature.  The whole affair was actually about twelve hours long and they were the most perfect twelve hours.

I guess things got started around 1:30 pm when Deels had her hair appointment.  I was curling my hair in the bathroom downstairs already because I had to have enough time afterwards to get dressed and do my own makeup as well as Delia's.  Eric was with me, watching the Doctor Who Season 2 Finale.  It was really sweet because the whole weekend was so focused on Deels that spending two hours with Eric pestering me ("What'd he do that for?" "Are they going to explain that?" "WHAT?!" "Pleeeaaase tell me!") was really nice.

She got back around 3:30, at which point I did her makeup.  This took like an hour.  But was entirely worth it!  It then took her 45 minutes to get into her own dress and shoes, over the course of which I finished my hair, did my own makeup, and got dressed.

We left the house at 5:30 and got to the hotel with plenty of time to set up candles and centerpieces and take lots of pictures with the help of our beautiful and professionally dressed photographer, Cristina! She did a fantastic job and I'm DYING to see all the pictures!

It was wonderful to have all the family together again.  All the Raggis, Brengels, Gasperis, Scagliolas, Stracquadanios, Finellis, Miliones, Ginger, and the Schizzanos (because what's the difference really, when we've been so involved in each other's lives for thirteen years) were all together with all of Delia's close friends, dance friends, Lifeteen friends, theater friends, and family friends.  Lots of dancing and merriment. Except for like the 14 cousins that refused to dance with me.  Let me tell you, you missed out.

Then, of course, there was the whole spiel of Sweet Sixteen traditions over the course of the evening.  We had her photo montage of every adorable picture ever taken of Deels from birth to like the week before the party.  Seeing as every picture taken of my photogenic sister is adorable, there were lots of pictures.  I'm flattered by the number of pictures I was in with her. :)

Her friends that love her so much put together a sweet video in which they re-wrote the lyrics to "I Will Survive" to be about surviving our parents' bad dancing at the party, with verses about how each of them met her and her importance in their lives.  Since I don't exactly remember meeting her for the first time, my verse was just fluff like "Our inside jokes range from pretzel dance to wedge of lime."  It makes sense, I swear. ("Manic waitress at Ninety-Nine: "WOULD YOU LIKE A WEDGE OF LIME WITH THAT?!") She was entirely shocked and thrilled.  The whole thing went over nicely.

THE FOOD WAS GODLY.

Then of course there was her candle lighting ceremony.  Guys, remember all the crying we did at mine?  We did just as much, if not more at Delia's.  She's always been a fantastic writer and she really shined with these seventeen candles.  I am more than honored to receive her second out of seventeen candles.  I talk a lot about how close we are, but hearing her talk about it, and how difficult it gets when I'm in Boston and she's home, made it sound all different.  I started crying at the second candle and never really stopped.   "Sisters by blood, but more importantly, sisters by choice." :') <3

She then had her father-daughter dance and her grandfather-daughter dance and we had ice cream.  There was also a Grease Sing Along and a Hand jive competition.  It was rather excellent.

The party ended at 11, but it was midnight before we got home, considering all the decorations, centerpieces, favors, gifts, leftover food and cake, and goodbyes.  Once we were all changed into the most comfortable slippers (heels are hard on your feet!) and pajamas we own, we ate our way through a lot of the leftover food and cake and opened all her gifts.  "We" includes Ginger, who we are always thrilled to have stay with us.  We started missing her the hour she left. :( But Delia got some truly precious things!  I had a playlist running of all the songs that had been involved in the party-her entrance, her candles, the favorites played by the DJ- and it was a great hour and a half to close up the festivities.  I remember how hard it was after my party to just go home and go to bed when you were still all abuzz.  This tradition is almost as precious as the party.

As everyone else went to sleep, Deels and I then continued our long-standing tradition of hanging out in my bed and talking before going to sleep.  At this point we were both exhausted and only lasted about a half hour before falling asleep together.  It was kind of cute except we felt gross waking up with our faces still caked in makeup.

The moral of the story is that it was a beautiful day.  The only tiny glitch was that it was awful hair weather out.  Let's be honest; if that's the biggest problem we had, then we're truly lucky.

I was trying to explain all of this to Andy, who looked at me a combination of confusion and disbelief at all the components of the party.  He said, "It sounds like some bizarre coming-of-age ritual from another culture."  It kind of is.  It's a really fun thing, but it's also a deeply emotional thing.  My Sweet Sixteen was the night of my life and this was the night of Delia's.  I could not be more blessed to have the sister I do and I'm grateful we got to share these nights with each other.

:) <3

On another note,

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.

I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.  I hate braces.    

I actually physically wrote out that sentence forty-two times without copying or pasting to make it clear just how much I hate braces.  I actually do not plan to ever have kids, partly so I never have to put them through anything related to the Orthodontist.  

I generally make it a point to be a happy person.  I like to bask in the happiness of all my family and friends and music and books and just be happy.  Do you ever get filled with negative energy?  There are times when I'm just filled unnecessarily with anxious or angry energy and it's all I can do to get rid of it healthily. It's the most aggravating thing ever.  You know the feeling; that one Facebook post on someone else's wall that implies you're being left out, that assignment that you're entirely restructuring the night before it's due, that friendship you tried so hard to keep alive but is just useless now, that bracket that fell off your tooth when you weren't even eating something chewy, (and the fact that you have to go through the braces crap for a second time anyway)--things that just make you go a little crazy.  My advice for coping when you just want to yell and punch your pillow is to invest some time and money in a spoon, a jar of Nutella, and some old Seinfeld re-runs.  

Watching Grease:

"I feel like a defective typewriter." Rizzo

"I hope you don't plan to need that line..." Sean

It was much, much funnier in the moment.

"ME WOVE WOO." Deels
"HOW COME ANY TIME I DO SOMETHING NICE FOR SOMEONE THEY MAKE A WEIRD FACE AT ME?" Also Deels

"You don't have any reason to sing a sad song like that." Me

"I'm sad because I'M ALONE." Deels
"BUT YOU HAVE ME!" Eric
(It's rather less funny without the screaming and accents and pushing each other around.)

I love my family like a lot, a lot, a lot.  I'm so grateful that they came all the way to Boston for a two hour orchestra concert, and even managed to all be excited about it.
Side note, my brother is starting to know more about the history of Doctor Who than I know, in addition to teaching himself the main theme on cello.  As far as brothers go, it really doesn't get any better.

God, I am blessed to live the life I do.  When I get whiny, don't let me forget that.

Reader, this is an honest blog.

Cheshire cat moons call for blogging!

First things first.  "Nothing changes."  Of course, everything changes, but the things that matter never, ever do.

And on we get.  Cheshire cat moon!

I take back what I said in my last blog.  No, I don't.  I mean I'm expanding on it.  It's not just me that's utterly ridiculous.  A lot of people are.  I mean sure I wonder how people take me seriously, but I mean this more seriously.  I can't help but wonder how some people can even stand doing and saying the things they do.  Don't you feel how careless or hurtful you're being? Or how immature?  Oh I don't know.  Some people are just full of bad energy and toxic to be around.  It's sad because they're still good people.  They're just bad for the psyches of those around them.

Meanwhile I'm enjoying writing letters.  Send me more addresses pretty please??

Lately I've been rather in love with Kelly Clarkson's third (forgotten about) album, My December.  Quotes from my favorite songs:

Maybe- I should know better than to touch the fire twice, but I believe in maybe.
Irvine- They say you feel what I do, they say you're here every moment.  Will you stay? 
Can I Have A Kiss- I just want to know what it feels like to touch something so pure, something I'm so sure of. 
Chivas- I'll take this chivas instead of your bed.  It wasn't even good, trust me.  I must have been so so so so lonely.
Sober- Three months and I'm still sober; picked the weeds but kept the flowers.  
Yeah- For sure I've got your back, I've never wanted anything more than you and your sexy smile.
Be Still- Foolish one with the smile, you don't have to be brave.  I'll gladly climb your walls  if you'll meet me halfway.

I'm writing a paper on my favorite musical ever, Wicked, for Feinstein's class.  It's the happiest paper I've ever written. I have completely renewed my faith in this work of art.  The melodies, the character development, the plot, GAH.  I love it all a lot.  My favorite detail is when Nessarose takes her happy teenage girl melody from Act One and turns it into a ballad about deserving to be named the Wicked Witch of the East in Act Two.  Something about the way she sings it and the way the notes sit next to each other is chilling.  I'm falling in love all over again and it's wonderful. 

Quotes of the last few weeks:
"At least I play a real instrument!  You play the cupcake!" Andy
"Why Johanna..." Al and Andy, countless times this week due partly to Relay for Life and partly to me being me.

"I mean is it a big deal that people are dying?" Feinstein, on our Dancing Zombie Apocalypse Musical.

The other day Sarah, Lauren, Meredith and I went to the North End for dinner.  Cheers for being spontaneous, my lovers!  Here's to all our playground jokes and to being mature.

Also, "DO THE MEREDITH!" and awkwardly step and snap in a style vaguely reminiscent of the Jets and Sharks in West Side Story. 

All of you people in my life are priceless and I love you a lot. 

Send me your addresses pleaseeeeeee.

Mirror, mirror? And lots of Capital R Romance.

I am entirely undecided on how I feel about the season finale of Pretty Little Liars.  "A Day" came and it was so, so close to obeying the books... sort of.  In some ways the books were better, and in some ways the shows were.  It's under review until next season.


Also, their music supervision team went bananas in the last few episodes.  It's like they suddenly realized that field existed after paying it no attention for a season and a half and then jumped in without knowing anything about how to handle it.  The only appropriate music was soundtrack "scary" music and the lyric-less, melancholy tune that went with the credits.


A nun came into work yesterday to buy a salad.  She paid entirely in singles.  Isn't there kind of a connotation that comes with that....


Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and want to laugh?  I'm just an absolutely ridiculous excuse of a human being.  I'm not complaining, but how does anyone in the world take me seriously?  I have a hunch that no one really does.


On an unrelated note, I've never tried this, but seduction by cupcake sounds like it'd be a fantastic idea.  Who could resist a cupcake?


There's something that's just Romantic about the warm weather.  You don't need a partner to feel it.  All you have to do is love yourself and your own life.  I promise.


Sometimes, though, I just want to disappear.  Just lay on my bed and melt into it, or throw myself down on the grass  and get lost there.  If I don't want to look in a mirror, or feel embarrassed, or regret something, I just wish I could put myself in some little corner of the world where no one can find me for a little while.  And then I think about how many other people are probably feeling the same way.  We all just need a touch of redemption for anything we're not proud of.  We just need someone to tell us it wasn't our fault, or that we're still loved.  I want to be able to crawl back out of the hole I just dug for myself and throw my head back and arms out and shine.


I'm a romanticist, remember? What keeps life interesting is the possibility of having your dreams come true, after all.


So pretty much, I use this blog to get rid of the extra thoughts that cloud my head sometimes.  Like a ton of two-line vignettes just spilling out in whatever order my brain wants to get rid of them.  And sometimes, people are pretty entertained.  I'm flattered.  You should clear out your head too.  Send your thoughts back to me!  In a text or comment or Facebook message... I don't care who you are or how well we do or don't know each other.  No awkwardness, scout's honor!  I wanna quit having one-sided conversations with myself.  I HAVE AN EXCELLENT IDEA.  Send me a mailing address and I'll send you a letter!  Regardless of whether we're in different states or even down the hall at the same school, I WILL WRITE YOU A REALLY FUN LETTER IF YOU SOMEHOW GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS.


I'm speaking directly to you, dear reader.  I know you want to look around and say, "Who, me?" assuming I mean the closer friend who read this and answered me already, or the really distant friend I want to reconnect with, but I don't.  I mean you, reading this right now.   


I promise I'm not desperate for friends, but guys, this is going to be awesome.

"If you put your ear to the ground now, you would hear the whole island seething with life."

The title of this post is a quote from J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan.  It's a fun read for kids, but it's so much more than that to those who can see it's poignance.  I read it the summer between graduating high school and starting college, so it's an intensely emotional read for me.  Also, it is gorgeous out today and the quote seemed appropriate.  

'Poignant' and 'whimsical' are my two favorite words ever.

The olfactory system is incredible.  More than sights or sounds, certain scents can take me entirely to another time and place.  It’s like time travel.  Like, I have three different deodorants.  One in particular just brings me back to last summer-- my first full summer having a car and a license and income and freedom.  I get really happy when I use that deodorant, but it feels wrong to use during cold months.  

Our hand soap is scented Milk and Honey-- I am going INSANE trying to place the memory I have stored for this scent.  It has something to do with summer nights and go-karts but I can’t remember the details.  It’s killing me.  

The smell of tulle reminds me of the thirteen years I spent as a tap dancer.  Trying on dresses--even just walking through stores like Estelle’s-- brings me back to waiting in the wings of Tilles Center, wearing a costme, stage makeup, and an ear-to-ear grin.

The bass room at my high school always smelled of old paper because it doubled as a music library.  Any time I read an old book or browse a library, I can close my eyes and still be in high school, perhaps cutting a useless PIG class to practice the bass.

Even cologne and perfume make me float to some far off memory.

It’s practically magic, except for one flaw; since most things die in winter and snow has no true scent, it only works for the other seasons. It’s a shame because winter’s my favorite.  

Drinking coffee and needing to pee are practically synonymous.  They both fill you with lethal amounts of potential energy that make you need to go, go, go.

My compliments to the cast of Smithtown’s Hello, Dolly!  I was thoroughly entertained both nights I saw it, even after enduring my sister singing all the songs around the house for months.  I laughed out loud at all the jokes and those handsome dancing waiters and was super impressed by the general level of talent in every cast member.  Bravo, all!

In the ten minutes I saw Sydney at Starbucks, she said some pretty priceless things:

“CHELSEA, YOUR GREASE WAS SEEPING THROUGH MY CARPET.  SABRNA, I DID NOT MEAN THAT SEXUALLY.”

“Chels, at least I talk to guys!  You just TESTOSTERONE and run away!”

“He was playing [the ukelele] with his wenis.” 

Mike and Rebeca and me were reunited for the first time since January!  For one hour.  But it’s better than the two more months we thought we’d have to wait.  It was lovely as always.  

Rebecca: “I’m going vegetarian.  Vegetarian as in not eating meat.  But the word vegetarian implies I like vegetables, but I don’t, so that’s not a good word for it.”

The count down is on!  Eighteen days until the Sweet Sixteen!  Gosh, I can’t believe mine was so long ago.  Three years have flown by.  Everything and everyone has changed infinitely since then, but it doesn’t feel like it.  The most important thing I took away from my Sweet Sixteen was the knowledge that I am blessed with a lot of friends and family that love me unconditionally.  And I depend on that knowledge every day.  Thank you all. <3

As Dreamers Do.

Generally speaking, this has been an excellent week home.  I've gotten to see and talk to and hug so many of the people I've been missing, like Brian, Mike, Chelsea, Sarah, Sean, Eric, and the ENTIRE Lifeteen congregation.  Do you ever get that feeling that your body may actually explode because your heart swells so much to fit all your happiness inside? That's been my last six days, and it's beautiful.


Lunch with Brian was wonderful, as we never got to have one over Christmas break.  Favorite quotes of the day:
Me: "How many bass players does it take to change a light bulb?"
Brian: "It depends how much weed they have."


"It can be explained by a diagram of the diffraction of light.  Except in your case, it's the diffraction of a bullet.  And the distribution of them."


"The time has come to pick something off the menu and enjoy it.  Not eat it!  Just enjoy it."


Twins <3




Meanwhile, the drive to Chelsea's school with Sarah and Christie was full of excellent banter and girl talk, as was our lunch date at Panera.  Trouble is, you can't be nearly as loud or as honest in public, so we relocated to a nice deserted picnic table.  Cheers, girlies.  




There is a small part of me that is heartbroken.  I very much enjoyed making the candle holders for Delia's Disney Princess themed party, and blast Disney classics via Spotify whenever I work on something party-related.  I decided the other night was the night to watch a Disney classic, so I went for Snow White since it's one of the Princesses for the party and it was the predominant movie of my childhood.  I put the VHS in the VCR... and it got eaten.  Since I had to physically pull the tape out, I was actually the one to break the tape.  I cried.  I feel like I've personally murdered Snow White with the huntsman's dagger.  


The obvious move was to put in Pinocchio, another childhood classic.  What do you know, the first advertisement to come on is for Snow White.  Ouch.


That movie is so stereotypical in its portrayal of Italians.  Stromboli's Italian ramblings actually have Italian in them, just incomprehensible Italian.  Also, the Blue Fairy is totally Marilyn Monroe.  And Jiminy absolutely cat calls at her.


And on that note, now is a good time for a Disney-instigated rant on the sacredness of childhood.  I have very capital R Romantic tendencies-- think Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Hoffman, Shelley, Wordsworth, and Coleridge--and many of these apply to the natural wonder and beauty that are childhood, for the Romantic Era was about faith in untamed nature and feelings, not in knowledge.  There is something inherently beautiful about childhood, perhaps because it's so dependent on nature and feeling.  The Disney Classics all draw upon these in their development.  Although Disney gets a lot of crap for its stereotyping and its less than worthwhile messages, it somehow still ignites the same feelings of grandeur and the power of imagination that are emphasized by Romantics.  This may have a lot to do with Disney's gift for excellent scoring.  (Reader, if you're familiar with my blogs, you're aware how dangerous it is to let me openly ramble about music and yet here we go.)  
I suppose a better question is whether my childhood memories of Disney movies, and consequently Disney's classic hits--think Someday My Prince Will Come, When You Wish Upon A Star, Once Upon A Dream--make these songs meaningful for me, or whether these songs are what make my attachment to Disney so profound.  Just Googling "Disney's Greatest Music" brings you to a page of Disney's Top 100 Songs.  Even the last page, numbers 76-100, is filled with songs I know and love.  Of course the top twenty five are undisputedly the best, including Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty Waltz, now called "Once Upon A Dream," the classics listed above, Part of Your World, and A Whole New World, which was apparently playing when I was born.  Listen to these, or look at their lyrics.  They will all take you somewhere else entirely.  They draw upon wishes that we have in our hearts, however illogical or silly, and let us dream openly about them.  And so Disney's masterpieces foster imagination and the ability to dream and love and everything that's important in childhood.  And so Disney is beautiful.




On a vaguely related note, I am an expert at making bows.  I made seventeen for the candles, but each of those seventeen consist of one tulle and one ribbon bow, each tied with wire, then tied together, and then tied to a glass candle holder.  Each one takes like a half hour to make.  I'm just a wizard.  Also, Bow is the name of my street and it just feels like destiny.


Lastly, I finished Season Five of Doctor Who and I had to watch each part of the season finale twice to fully get what was going on.
"Something old, something new, something borrowed something blue; I remember you, Raggedy Doctor and YOU ARE LATE FOR MY WEDDING!"
Spoilers ;)