Collegiate Couture

One of my favorite blogs to follow is the Sartorialist [http://www.thesartorialist.com/].

It’s a fashion blog: street fashion, runway fashion, mostly expensive things but also random stuff edgy folks are wearing out on the street. Lovely, inspirational, and artsy (I’d put in a picture, but I’m afraid of copyright infringement…).

Yet, I am more likely to be seen wearing something like this:

I’m the one in the hat and the grandma top.

And this is even when I’m wearing something other than those darn acting blacks.

My friends will tell you that I hate wearing real pants (I go for those leggings that  everybody hates or yoga pants or something non-jeans).

More often than not, I slap on a sweater or some boots with the acting blacks, or a sweatshirt; essentially, looking cute takes too much time. Still, I check out the Sartorialist blog multiple times a day. When I have time, I try to put together an inspired ensemble. “Try” being the operative word here.

This is not a-typical of my college experience on a more macro scale. It seems that we keep learning and learning and yet aren’t able to fully apply the overwhelming amount of knowledge we’re obtaining until some random day when we can finally step away from all the craziness and- voila – we can suddenly make it all happen, almost effortlessly.

Of course, the odds of this happening with clothing are slim as my fashion sense is questionable, but I like to think that one of these days I, too, can be a haute-couture wearing fashionista.

Things Good For the Soul

Fall is by far my favorite season, but there are only ever a few perfectly magical days of it.

I usually feel horribly guilty for not running out into the leaves and woods and communing with nature in all its magical glory.

This year was different. I went camping with a bunch of hippies out at Shades State Park, and we went hiking in those stunning woods. The smells of dirt, streams, and trees were ambrosia for the soul. It also made for some good Midsummer Fairy character research.

We also went to a Covered Bridge Festival in Rockville. On our way back we drove past some of the celebrated covered bridges, through Amish country.

Covered Bridge Fest

Stretching on a Sunday

This morning was for yoga.

The Park workout room is pretty awesome. It’s actually 3 rooms big, and includes an open area great for things like yoga. It also has a TV and a DVD player, which, we thought, would be great if we wanted to do an exercise DVD.

Our friend, Taylor, had a P90X yoga DVD, and we thought to ourselves, “this will be a good idea.” 

So we set up our yoga mats and popped the DVD into the player. Only apparently Park likes to fake part of its awesomeness. The input on the TV wasn’t working, so we couldn’t watch our DVD.

I’m starting to wonder how much else of this beautiful, hotel-like dorm is a mere Styrofoam facade. 

We didn’t know what to do, until we realized that our computers play DVDs. 

In the end the three of us were doing yoga, in the dark (for relaxation) in front of a tiny computer screen in a public workout area.

It was quite an intense yoga workout, listening to the P90X man say things like “stand on your tippy toes,” and “thar she blows!” through his heavy breathing. He was pretty ripped, however, so we figured maybe he knew what he was doing.

We ended with the creepy P9oX man leading us in a series of “ohmmmmm”s, which we did in three-part harmony.

The Only Option is to Laugh

The following is a COMPLETELY HYPOTHETICAL situation.

…

It is 2:34 pm and your cup of blueberries spills, in its entirety, on the carpet.

Your first thought is: Roomate is going to kill me.

The only thing to do, of course, is to laugh. Then in a panic grab all of the carpet cleaning materials and douse the carpet.

You understand that this carpet has withstood tea, coffee, and most recently paint, so there is hope. However, berry juice is infamous for its powers of stain removal resistance. Because these blueberries came in one of those Del Monte Berries and Juice cups. So there’s lots of juice. You first decide which of your towels you most wish to sacrifice to the unforgiving power of blueberry juice. Choose the blue towel. Or the white one, if you’re looking for some cool new tie-dye towel stuff.

Wait for the OxyClean and Resolve to (please please please) work wonders. In the meantime, decide to write a blog post.

If you happen to have a 3 o’clock class, and it’s 2:51, hurriedly scrub up the carpet cleaner, raking the large, now stained towel across it, while the white foam from the absurd amount of carpet cleaner used remains.

You might consider leaving your roommate a note that says something to the effect of the following:

Dear [Roomate Name],

I would say I can explain.

Except I can’t.

Again, totally something hypothetical.

…

Totally hypothetical.

 

Spring Break- New York City

Forget an uncomfortable college mattress- right now it’s more like comfortable hotel mattress- or cramped hotel mattress, depends on the day.

So, a lot of us are traveling this break: Morgan is on the beach in Florida, Grace is road-tripping across Indiana and Michigan with our friends Becca and Chris, and I went New York City.

I went to help out with the Theatre Department’s NYC senior showcase (aaaah. finally, I feel that I’ve moved past the tourist barrier. yessssssss).

My first night there consisted of sleeping on a sliver of bed in a small hotel room- which I was sharing with eight (8) other people. Yay! Partay! (We finally got another room, so nobody has to sleep on the floor anymore).

Sunday, I got lunch with two of our family friends, Joey and Kevin, went and bummed with the crowd around the city, bein’ all cool-like, and saw the very fun show Memphis.

Monday, I did my volunteer work, then I walked blocks and blocks and blocks (by myself- woo!) down to some thrifty vintage stores to look for costumes. I was unsuccessful on the costume front, but did see some really awesome clothes. Plus “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ ” came on- in French.

Tuesday, I went down to Brooklyn to visit a friend- David Holloway and Katie Duris and their precious baby, Oliver-and then went back into midtown to watch a workshop our juniors did with director and actor Walter Bobbie, as well as a Q&A with John Cariani, the author of Almost, Maine. In the evening, a bunch of us went to see Driving Ms. Daisy, with James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave.

Vanessa Redgrave. Isn't she just beautiful? Her eyes are a stunning blue.

The great James Earl Jones

The performance was brilliant; perfect; beautiful.

We stagedoored the actors afterward, and both were so kind and gracious and shook our hands (!!!), and took an interest in the fact that we were all theatre students. And I totally did the freeze-up-when-the-actor-looks-you-in-the-face-and-you-want-to-be-intelligent-and-impressive-but-that-idea-just-went-down-the-toilet-and-here-they-are-staring-back-at-you-and-then-you-both-grin-and-kind-of-giggle-and-you-feel-horribly-sheepish-oh-well-lesson-learned.

This trip made me think a lot about the choice to be an actor, which is one I’ve had a bit of a battle with- about how to train for it, whether to even pursue it or not, etc. But-as absurdly intimidating as the theatre world of New York is, I came away thinking maybe I can do it. It’s crazy and wild and a wake-up call, but it’s also inspiring and in real life maybe a little less overwhelming than we make it out to be when distanced from it (although I could be being very naive at the moment).  I experienced so many successful and talented people on this trip, all who got to that place by totally different means. There’s no formula, though, and that’s  really frustrating sometimes.

Well.

After the show, we went to Junior’s, ate too much dessert, and made best friends with the waiters. What else?

After another visit to my friends’ in Brooklyn, I left on Wednesday afternoon. The drive from Indy to South Bend (where I’m staying with family for the rest of the break; there’s not enough time left to go to Arkansas and back again) is its own ridiculous story. *girl at computer shudders*

So, that’s the overview of my trip to NYC. Of course, there was soooo much more than what I covered, but I don’t want to bore anyone with any more minutia.

James Earl Jones said something to us, when we told him we were theatre majors (first of all, he recognized Ball State, and called over one of his assistants to tell him. They all acted rawther impressed. Maybe they were just, well, acting, but all the same…). He said [something to the effect of]: “You all are lucky; you’re just on the beginning of the journey. Where I am, doing these plays all the time, that’s boring!”

The journey. That’s what we’re all going through right now, in our own way. I have to stop sometimes and remind very goal-oriented self to enjoy the journey. Because once you stop letting yourself grow and travel and journey, well, that’s when you get boring and old.

This is my friend Dallyn, who got sung to/slightly hit on at least three times by our waiter at the Stardust Diner. Haaaaa....

Oh Woe Is Me….

So, it was Morgan’s birthday this Thursday, and everybody left for Chicago to go see Les Mis with her. I couldn’t go, because, as is the story of my life, I have play rehearsal. *sigh*

So here I am, watching Family Guy, listening to St. Vincent, letting the calories from the absurd amount of cake I ate yesterday seep into my veins.

Really, don’t feel sorry for me. In all honesty, it’s rawther refreshing to finally be forced into some solitude.

Yet,
While all the other cool kids are having a blast…

…hanging out together….

…enjoying one another’s company…

…and altogether making merry…

I am left to wallow in my grief…

…and am reduced into approaching random peasant strangers for company.

Good times, good times.

Lament of the Would-be Great Academic

I am rawther frustrated.

Such is the bane of education:

The more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know. As for me, I will never know enough. Ironically, though, the only way to ever get close to learning all you can is to keep that mindset that you are never anywhere close (and not let that dishearten you), and thus, keep learning all you can.

She sighs.

It will only get worse in graduate school.

Dear American university system: please create a Renaissance major. Those who take it will be willing to spend the lifetimes necessary to achieve this degree.

David Hume

Adventuring in the Airport

I was in the midst of writing a fantastic blog post about people watching in the airport when I got a call from United Airlines telling me that my One o’clock flight had been canceled.  The flight I was bumped on to wasn’t until seven that evening. I managed to get on to stand by for the three-o’clock flight; however, I was still left with a substantial amount of time to dally away. Now, had I to wait until seven, I might have taken a train into Chicago and come back later, but as it was, I didn’t have enough time for that, even though I still had several hours.

So, instead of doing homework and other necessary things, I decided to explore the airport.

Thus, the List of Things to Occupy One’s Time While Trapped For an Inordinately Long Amount of Time in Chicago- O’Hare:*

1. If you’re in Terminal 1, find Terminal 5 (it’s harder than you think)

2. If you’re in Concourse F, find the Ghost Town Concourse L.

3. Get a flu shot.         No really, you can. There’s a health center. In the airport.

4. Buy a lottery ticket. Start jumping and hallooping as if you won, then yell “hehe, suckers,” at the people watching.

5. Find a kid and take it to the play area. Pretend to be it’s parent and shout cautionary things at it.

6. Don a classy hat and go to the Wolfgang Puck cafe and get some soup and read F. Scott Fitzgerald. So classy. Even if you are toting a backpack and Ugg boot knockoffs.

7. Walk the length of the airport with your suitcase and backpack. You will lose weight.

8. Go check out the Chicago travel center place and pretend like you’re planning a trip.

9. Actually read all those signs they have posted along the walkways about the various projects the airport undertakes.

10. Pretend that you’re foreign and don’t speak a word of English and ask for directions to Auntie Anne’s pretzels.

Epilogue: Ultimately, I had to take the bus, which was its own adventure. I’m still trying to locate my luggage.

 

* I did not necessarily do all of these things. I just want to make that known.

72 hours

For the past 72 hours, I’ve been with the majority of the contributors of the blog. I even got to see Talley and be with her at midnight on New Years Eve through the Skype membrane.

 

photo by Liz Valpatic

 

 

After New Years Eve at Morgan’s, we went to my house for a few days and Chris met us there. We had many adventures, like hide and go seek in (and on) the barn…

…tours of the exciting and cosmopolitan Pendleton…

photo by Matt Smith

Photo by Matt Smith

… antiquing for hours…

…forming a band… and getting our first gig…

All band photos by Matt Smith

… and last, but certainly not least of our adventures, was breaking into Matt’s car…

all car photos by Liz Valpatic

success!

 

In between all of these adventures there were parmesan potatoes, story times, ukulele and mandolin jam sessions over skype, and the re-invention of the ice cream sandwich. This weekend was just upside-down.

“…And a Happy—“

“Eh, go back to Craig Ferguson. Let’s  watch that.” My mom loves Craig Ferguson. I enjoy his show as well. I’m sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels (there are only about 5, we live so far out in the country), and instead of wanting to watch the ball drop in Manhattan, we opt to watch Craig Ferguson. Which is fine by me. I find him to be quite an attractive older man. Plus, a good Scotch accent gets me every time.

All today, the T.V. shows, news shows, newspapers and magazines have been reflecting on the past year. People are talking about their New Year’s resolutions, about what they wished hadn’t happened in Twenty-Ten, and where they see the world going. We make resolutions, and keep them for a couple of weeks before slowly giving up.

I’ve thought of an idea: what if we took all the various New Years (religious, cultural, etc.), and celebrated them all? And instead of starting resolutions and reflecting on our lives at the end of only the Gregorian Calendar, we did so at the beginning of each different calendar’s year?  We could not only celebrate the beginning of the Gregorian year, but also the old Julian calendar year, the Japanese, Chinese, Druidic, Eastern Orthodox, Traditional Scottish, Old Scottish, Kurdish, Astrological, Kashmiri, Solar, Buddhist, Neolithic, Rosh Hashanah, Islamic, and Norse, as well as nearly 80 others. We could pick one “New Year’s Resolution,” and keep refreshing it almost every week of the Gregorian year!

So, my friends, have a splendid, fulfilling, and enlightening New Year. All year long.