"When you hit a wall, just kick in it."

[Warning :::::: I wrote this late at night, and it gets a little too self-reflective, so bear with me :::::: Warning]

To be an artist.
I have always revered the life of an artist. Maybe not the being starved, penniless part - but the part where you are able to create things, and comment on society or mankind or whatever - that is what I covet. To be different, to make a difference, to touch people with your gift.

These lofty proclamations that I make to myself (and sometimes to you) like writing everyday or picking up a paintbrush again or just being someone who can think outside the box - these promises exhilarate and stifle me. My creative soul is at odds with my Type-A personality. I am practical and safe but I wish to be spontaneous.

I like art because it gives me the opportunity to let go. When I took art classes in college I would get paint everywhere and I didn't stress over every detail. This person who made non-stop lists all day long - short of scheduling bathroom breaks - could not be the same person as the one dancing to her iPod in the dimly lit studio at 1 a.m., splashing paint all over the place, could she? Can she?

Just Kids by Patti Smith unearthed all these queries and brought them to the forefront of my mind again. And it validated my persistent want for a creative partner. It's funny because, just the other day I was talking to my friends about wanting someone to help me stay on top of my writing. Someone I could send drafts back and forth to, commenting on each others' work. An accomplice to constructively criticize and praise. I was just thinking that if I did so well and was motivated by accountability with the gym maybe I could transfer that helpfulness to my writing. Yes - I have you guys to keep my accountable - but unless you badger me and give me that "We have to do this! We will feel greatly accomplished afterward! Don't let me down" face - it unfortunately doesn't have the same effect.


Patti and Robert were lovers, partners and friends. They pushed each other to be the best versions of their creative selves. They understood each other on a deeper level. They loved each other through everything. Even when they didn't understand some choices, they were still respectful and supportive. It is this that I crave the most. A creative soulmate.

Soulmates. God, that sounds so cliche and naive. But this is different. I'm not talking about the "soulmates" in movies or books. I'm talking about those people in your life that just get you. There isn't just one out there for you. I think there are a select few who will fit the bill. One soulmate may be totally different from the next depending on where you are in your life. But essentially they all do the same thing - accept you. They never try to change you. What they do is push you to be the best version of yourself  - the one you constantly think about being.

I guess my question is, is this too much to ask for?

Las Aguas - Lima, Peru

I was reading through an old journal of mine and I came across some small vignettes that I wrote in 2008 when I went to Peru to visit my grandparents. Here is one about the fountain park in Lima:

 I walk in and the first thing I see is a skyscraping gush of water shooting towards the clouds, suspended in the air. The middle fountain, longer than the first, is where it will take place.
Sitting on a bench waiting for the 7:15 showing to start, I hear little kids of all ages scrambling to catch the water spritzing and squirting from below the bull's eye of dancing lights.

The show finally begins.
Water follows the music with sprays, spurts, puffs, and swells. The fountains spray diagonally. Straight up. Sequences of colors and shapes. Water cyclones, flowerbeds of crystalline water shooting upward like arrows. Each melting away when hit with another.
Pirouetting like the ballerinas of Lincoln Center, the water follows the beat of the soothing music. The Prima Ballerina shines in the center as the chorus jumps and twirls and sashays across the pool....

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

At the end of April, our book club met at Alice's Tea Cup to talk about Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. We sat around this creaky wooden table, with mismatched chairs and china. It felt as if at any moment the Mad Hatter would show up to make us move over while wishing us a merry un-birthday.

What I love about our group is that we are all so different and we each bring something unique to the discussion. We can delve into Carroll's psyche and in the same breath quote from our favorite you-tube videos. In Hannah Montana's words, we really do have the best of both worlds. And even if half of us read one book instead of both, or only watched the movie(s), we still always accomplish what we set out to do in the first place: read good books, try new places, eat good food, stimulate our minds and laugh our asses off.

What I learned:
1. Lewis Carroll (the artist) was innovative. Lewis Carroll (the person) was creepy, and definitely a pedophile.
2. Nonsensical literature can be frustrating at times, but also forces you to think outside the box
3. Alice is irritating and foolish in Wonderland, but (in my opinion) redeemed in Looking Glass.
4. It is more rewarding to read classics on your own terms and for your own enjoyment.
5. Contrary to what I believed in high school, introductions are helpful and worth reading.

6. Disney's Alice in Wonderland is still the worst of the Disney movies.
7. Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland was a clever mash-up of elements from both books. I loved that he created (what I imagine is) an "after" for Alice and her friends in Wonderland.
8. My friends are hilarious, eloquent and exceptionally witty.
9. Alice's Tea Cup has annoying reservation policies, but makes up for it with the fluffiest and tastiest scones.

10. I will take more pictures during book club. These images are pathetic!

Can we get a lion?

I guess I should tell you that, allegedly, I rejected this book as a read when C first told me about it. I have a tendency to reject anything that becomes too popular. (Must be why I'm so cool.) So, when this video went viral....I didn't really care. I was just like, "Eh. That's cool." Move on.

So, I'm behind the curve and the hype when I tell you that this story is amazing and the video will make you really want a pet lion.

I'm not an animal person, so when people show my pictures of their pets I give them a half-hearted, "Oh...cute." And look away when they make out with them. If a friend of mine has a pet, I try my best not to push them aside, and I might even fall in love with them slowly and add them to my "pets that are okay because I know my friends are clean" list. That's not to say I hate animals. I like pictures of cute puppies and kittens just as much as the next person. I will swoon if I see a tiger snuggling with a penguin -- I do have a heart. But pretty early on my mom convinced me that pets are dirty, gross and full of hair. Oh, and that your house will smell if you have one of these dirty, smelly, hairy pets. ALL that being said...how much do you think it would be to house a lion cub before setting it free in the wild to then come back and visit it and have it love on me with its giant lion paws and slobbery tongue?

(Sorry I couldn't find any clips without Whitney Houston in the background.....)

Turning it on -- on the W train

Yesterday I went out for drinks with my long-lost high school friend, K. I think the last time we saw each other was graduation day...but that didn't even matter. We picked up right where we left off, filled in the blanks for the last few years and laughed for hours. Two blood-orange mimosas, one glass of white wine, one mini avocado salad with chicken, and one photo-booth session later we said "Adieu" and I sprinted to the subway. I don't know why but when I'm drunk tipsy I am determined to walk like I am not drunk tipsy so I speed walk. I am convinced that then no one will know that I am on the edge of falling flat on my face.....sadly, I tend to negate my efforts as I talk loudly on my cellphone while crossing the street and almost getting run over by a cab......but I digress.

As I caught the W train at Union Square, all I could think about was the $5 foot-long BLT that I was going to reward myself with once I got off at my stop in Astoria.While my mouth watered, I took out my book, The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen, and made myself comfortable with my feet up in that "two-seater" seat on the subway. You know which one I'm talking about right? The one you are supposed to give to handicapped, preggers or old people. Well the train was not full at all so I had that MTA loveseat all to myself.

Clearly, they know exactly what I'm talking about

 I tried to read a chapter or two and then realized my buzzed brain could not really appreciate the Austen dramatics and I happily slipped it back into my bag. Mmmm....$5 foot-long.

"Just so you know, that book you were just reading? It's bullshit."

Broken out of my reverie I stared back at the not at all cute manchild gentleman sitting across from me. I smiled politely back and asked,

Me: Why?

Dave W Train Debate Jane Austen (as saved into my phone): Jane Austen? She creates these men that don't exist.

Me: I know that some men are douchebags but some are gentlemen.

DWTDJA: You're wrong there.

Me: What, you're all gentlemen? (skeptical eyebrow raise/pursed lips)

DWTDJA: No. We're all douchebags.

Me: (drunk giggle) Oh, well. I mean, isn't that what books are for though? To create these worlds that allow you to be whimsically naive?

(Inner thought - Are you drunk too? I mean, only a drunk guy would say this type of shit right?)

DWTDJA: I don't know. I guess. I don't really read books like those, I'm more into Kurt Vonnegut (oh God)...

Me: I like Kurt Vonnegut.

DWTDJA: But these books make girls expect some guy to come and save them. Like when it's raining some guy is going to come and put his expensive coat over a puddle for you to swoon and walk over. Why can't you just walk around?

Me: (nervous drunk laughter) I know guys don't really do that. But it's nice to be whimsy sometimes (yes, second time I used the word "whim" in different a way).

DWTDJA: (Looks around) I guess...Oh man. Look what you made me do now (joking?). I think I've missed my stop.

Me: Where were you supposed to get off?

DWTDJA: Queensboro. I have to take the 7.

Me: Oh...that's the next stop. See I didn't do nothing.

DWTDJA: (As we approach Queensboro Plaza) Well, I should probably give you my number, you know, just in case you ever want to discuss literature more.

Me: (Oh God) Okay (internal shrug)


If only this guy had been cute -- I would totally call him back. Wouldn't that be an adorable meet-cute?

Oh, Jane. Who would have thought coming home on a Wednesday night on the W train would involve some peaked interest in your literature and my reading selection?