fresh start.

From here on out, it's smooth sailing. From here on out, I'm pursuing happiness. From here on out, it gets better.

The economy is horrible, and I'm bored with my day job, but I have something new- something to make staying at the day job worthwhile. I have: freelance design work. I currently have work within my chosen profession. I have work that I enjoy doing, that I can feel satisfied about. And that, that makes all the difference in the world. Even one small part of my day or week being dedicated to something that I like (in terms of a career and a supporting myself) means so much.

Along with this new work came a semi-epiphany. Most young people I know whom I consider successful don't work 9 to 5 jobs. They work 9 to 5 jobs and then some. This doesn't necessarily mean overtime at work- it can also mean side jobs, whether it be in the same field or another one. It means being a teacher and tutoring on the side. It means being an editor and writing screenplays in your downtime. It means being an art director and photographing weddings on the weekend.

So.

So what if right now I can't find a job in my industry? I have a steady day job that I am happy to have in these uncertain times. But, I also have independent work. Work that I want, work that I appreciate, work that makes my life a little easier, work that eases my stress a little, though it makes me busier. And that? That's pretty sweet.

interruption.

Please excuse this brief interruption from normal Europe trip programming for a poem. Some unfortunate events have occurred recently in my life, and by "unfortunate events", I mean a couple of people have passed away, one in extremely awful circumstances. This makes four people that have died this year, whom I cared for, or whose family I care for, or know well. Death is never pleasant, but four in five months is starting to be a bit wearing. So in the name and honor of those who have fallen, I post this poem, a favorite of mine:

FUNERAL BLUES

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight,my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-W.H. Auden

R.I.P. Kristin Stock, Nick Cooley, Troy Lancaster and Mr. Sammy

Budapest.

Budapest. Buda fest. Buda best. It was pretty damn cool. Hot and humid as hell with occasional thunderstorms. Cool buildings, cheap prices, pretty parks, amazing turkish baths. My hostel was awesome, too. Very welcoming. I could go on, and on, so I'll just say this:

Budapest is like an older, beautiful woman who has fallen on hard times in her old age, like Brooke Astor. The bones of beauty and ncie clothes are still there, but the clothes are a little worse for wear, and her brow liner and lipstick are a little too dark. She used to be beautiful, but now is on the verge of garish. That is Budapest.

Lyon, on the way to Orange.

Paris was so much fun. Visited two museums (the Orangerie and the Pompidou Centre). Both have excellent art, and there was a great architecture exhibit at the Pompidou. Ate some good food. Partied my ass off with Karina on Thursday night and didn't get home until 6am on Friday morning. Went to a club that was full of American models and gay French men. It was interesting, but not that fun. It reminded me of the "Modelizer" episode of Sex in the City. Good times!

I wish I could post pictures, but my camera's brand new, so I haven't figured that out yet. Don't have that many, but it would be nice. Lyon's pretty. You know, old buildings, beautiful river running through the city- pretty typical. Amazing food, though: fresh pasta, fresh fish, homemade sorbet. Had the best rose` ever.

It's fairly hot, and it's going to be even hotter in the south of France (in Orange). My allergies are still driving me crazy. I find that a cocktail of two claritin and one allegra works well, though. Til next time- au revoir!

Paris.

That's where I am. It's beautiful. My allergies are driving me crazy. I did a Marilyn in my sundress over a metro grate yesterday. Good times!

europe.

This last month and a half has been crazy. Crazy busy. I am so ready for a vacation, which is good, because on Monday I leave for Europe for 3 weeks. That's right. Three weeks. Visiting old friends (Copenhagen), and new friends (Micha!), and just generally hanging out = bliss. Plus, let's not forget the amazing food, wine and beer that I will be soaking up like a sponge. Good times, people, good times.

kiss kiss

Let’s talk about kisses for a minute. I mean kisses on the cheek, and specifically those given from men to women. There’s something in the air, I think, something going on with men and cheek kissing.

My friends and I have received a number of them in the past six months or so, enough to make me wonder about it. Mind you, these pecks were not from boyfriends, partners or husbands- oh no- but from friends and acquaintances. That is a very serious distinction to make.

Now, if we were living in Europe, this would be common. In fact, if this were Europe, to not kiss both cheeks would probably seem like an insult when greeting or saying goodbye to a friend. But here, in the states, the rules are different. Here, we are germaphobes and place distinct lines between the physical contact of friends and lovers. Here, our culture was developed from prudes. Here we preach about morals and abstinence and ridicule other cultures who are comfortable with sex and sexuality. Here, we try to deny that we’re the same as every other human in this world.

Because of all this, a kiss is not just a kiss- a casual term of endearment, or sign of friendship. Here, kisses are full of meaning, and the meaning behind it can be laboriously analyzed for days and days. Does it mean he’s just flirting? Does it mean he likes me? How much does he like me? What is he thinking??

It can go on and on.

But let’s not dwell on the meaning of these kisses for now. Let us just enjoy them for what they are, because they are (usually) enjoyable. They are as light and sweet as meringue. They are innocent. They recall young puppy love and spring days and a pretty blush on the cheek. They sometimes bring forth a shy, coy, but pleased smile or a knowing look. They are the promise of something more. They are the antithesis to our hyper-sexualized, over-stimulated society. And that, every now and then, is a beautiful thing.