I ain't high class, but I ain't white trash...

This post might end up as a rant, so I do apologize in advance. The first part of the bulk of this post was written in class in an effort to not say something to offend. This aside, I am so happy to be right where I am, despite a stuffy nose and sore throat. Our house is clean, I have to watch movies for homework and then make up stories. It's the best excuse for popcorn (well, after the throat feels better) that I know. So, without further ado, the rant that began at a guest lecture and will finish here...

Let me be the first to say that I can be snobby about many things. But if any of you ever see me act and speak with the same pomposity as our speaker on Thursday, hit me in the face. No, really. Break something even. Maybe I'm just feisty this week but give me a break. Not an inspiring Thursday to say the least. On the bright side, it's Oscar season. I have 4 out of the 10 best picture nominees left to see and two of them are waiting for me on iTunes rentals. I am a happy girl indeed. I won't be if I have to listen to this man much longer. I know I'm going to say something smart and not in a good way (maybe question and answer sessions aren't always good ideas). When I grow up and start my own literary salon/circle, we're gonna be so much cooler than this Dr. Phil lookalike. Another thing: we won't use the term postmodern as if it's going out of style (hint: it already has) and yeah, another thing, "overwhelmingly saccharine and sentimental" is overwhelmingly obnoxious.
That's as far as I got before the question section of the evening started. From there he told us that to write within the accepted forms and boundaries of writing is the equivalent of a sell out (which is apparently different than a cop out), and that nothing being printed now is worth anything. It's okay though, not only did we get a free drink out of it, the response we're required to turn in every week was just an argument against what he said using...his own words. HA! That will teach you to contradict yourself and use big words. At the very least, it makes me feel better for just a moment.

Now that the first rant is out of the way, I must say I had a great weekend with friends. I started volunteering again this week and think I've mastered the bus route to that location, so yay public transportation! Life is pretty great, and now for the second, lesser rant.

I am not Taylor Swift. Yes, most of my stories have a foundation from real life, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing is ever entirely true in my stories, so you can come out with me without fear that I'll turn you into a hit song or, in my case, poem. I can count on one hand the times I've written specifically about a person, so stop asking me if I'm going to put you in a story. From now on, my response will be 'Don't flatter yourself' or better yet, 'Go ahead and flatter yourself, because I won't do it for you'. Now, this rant really has nothing to do with anyone who reads this blog, but just in case, it's here. For now, I'm off to listen to Taylor Swift sing about Joe Jonas and do a little writing. :)

So Many Airports, So Little Time

After a long hiatus, I'm back: both blogging and abroad. Sometimes I think my favorite things to blog about are my flights. This most recent trip has, as ever, proved entertaining. Some highlights:

- Always the in-flight movies. Though the selection was limited this go round, quality makes up for it. Yes, I finally saw "The Social Network",but "Never Let Me Go" was fantastic. Carey Mulligan is officially my new favorite actress. Keira Knightley didn't ruin a film for once. Also, Andrew Garfield?! Despite looking nothing like leading man material (seriously, he looks scary in photos) he's really great in both films, looks dreamy in a black suit and threatens to hit Justin Timberlake. LOVE.

-unexpected upgrade to Economy Plus means more leg room and a happy Allison.

-People keep wanting to adopt me? Most recent on the wannabe parent list is the lady from Denver sitting beside me on the way to London. She refs soccer, I don't even know the rules. But her husband likes moviesand her 27 year old nephew likes books, writes and is working on his PhD. Apparently, she thinks I'm just lovely. New project: Write my own guide to taking over the world.

-Heathrow is alot nicer when you don't have to run through it. In fact, despite the random stalking episode with a boy in a flannel shirt, I like it best so far (yeah, I hate you too, JFK International)

-I still love the English accent, no matter how long I spend in Ireland. Everything they say just sounds funnier.

Most of you know my Christmas experience, so suffice to say, it was really great to get home and see everyone. Also, I got a new camera for Christmas, so pictures should follow, if I manage not to break this one. For now, I'm going to work on poetry for submission, and then decide what classes to take this semester. Why is it always so difficult?! I have it narrowed down to Screenwriting, Non-Fiction and North American Literature. I may just end up reading the required reading but not taking the literature class, though I do love discussions. AH. Until next time...

Thanksgiving! and Dublin!

I've finished my presentation and now my final semester projects await me. Yay! Since my last post, so many things have taken place, but the main two were my trip to Dublin to spend the day with the lovely Claire Williamson, and the Thanksgiving dinner we hosted at the house.

Yesterday, I spent all day in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. There were no fires. The menu? Turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, mac & cheese (of course!), mashed potatoes, corn pudding, rolls, and pie. Four pies. Apple, Pecan, Lemon and Chocolate. Friends, I pulled it off. There were 11 of us total, and I think everyone had a great time. Of course, some things, I could have done a bit better, but I didn't send anyone to the hospital and that is fine with me. We ate, drank and were merry. Success!

Last weekend, I ventured into Dublin for the first time in five years. Through a sheer stroke of luck/genius (or just sleeping through my stop), I met Claire at the airport and we headed into town. Claire's been in Glasgow for a few months and it was so great to have a JMU reunion in Ireland! Claire had found a bakery online and wanted to check it out, so we went off in search of the Cake Cafe. We couldn't find it the first time around, so we stopped to fuel up on caffeine in a little shop run by an Italian family ( I think they're Italian?) and chatted with them about directions to this cafe. Apparently, it's in a small sketchy looking alley way. It took us a total of three tries to find it, but it was worth it! Teeny tiny with almost no room, bike racks galore outside and tasty tasty cake inside. We then proceeded to roam the streets and take pretty pictures and buy books from outdoor vendors. Or rather, Claire took pretty pictures and I bought books from outside vendors. We then had an early dinner at a random cafe and then we went our separate ways, Claire to Glasgow, me to Galway. It sounds perfectly boring typing it all out, but it was actually lovely.

By the time I got back to Galway it was fairly late, but the Christmas directions looked great lit up! And that's all the excitement for me folks. Now it's off to write.

Time Management

So, things are getting down to the wire here and I just wanted to put up a quick post to say that I should really re-learn time management and that a new post will be up as soon as this work is done. Yikes!

A Night at the Cinema

So, as the boys were incredibly underwhelmed at my suggestion that we spend some quality roommate bonding time watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's", I've decided to put together a list of my all-time favorite "classics". In no particular order:

Breakfast at Tiffany's - it's cheesy, it's a little racist (Mickey Rooney as the Japanese neighbor?) and it is utter perfection. I watched it at least once a week for a year and can probably still quote it from memory.

Casablanca- Overlooking the fact that this movie is essentially not so subtle American propaganda, it's a great love story. What better pairing could there be than Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman (besides Lauren Bacall of course!)?

The Princess Bride- THE BEST FANTASY/LOVE STORY/CHICK FLICK EVER. Also, Andre the Giant plays...a giant.

Better Off Dead- one of the most quotable movies EVER. "I'm sorry your mom blew up, Ricky" can only be topped by "Two dollars!"

Pal Joey- Along with Breakfast at Tiffany's, I watched this movie over and over and over. Frank Sinatra, Rita Hayworth and Kim Novak are great. My favorite numbers? Frank singing The Lady is a Tramp and Rita singing Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

Cool Hand Luke- Paul Newman eats 50 eggs. This movie only slightly edges out Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid from the list, just slightly. Watch both.

A League of Their Own- Girls playing baseball? Of course I would love this movie. "There's no crying in baseball!" (Starring Geena Davis and Tom Hanks- I cry every time)

Ten Things I Hate You- Classic teenage chick flick. Shakespeare? Heath Ledger? What more do you need? Oh yeah, a catchy soundtrack!

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex- Yes, this is in black and white and stars Bette Davis and she looks like one scary Queen. Fantastic.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame - My favorite musical of all time. Yes, even more than Singin' in the Rain or My Fair Lady. This stars Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Betty Garrett and Esther Williams. The tunes are catchy and it centers around love and baseball. AH.

Field of Dreams- Of course I have to put this on here, but it could very well include Bull Durham or For Love of the Game or yes, even Tin Cup. Kevin Coster at his best. "Is this heaven?" - "No, it's Iowa".

I know I've left so many out, but this is the shortlist. Feel free to add more and definitely definitely watch these!

Poetry in the Afternoon

Because it's miserable outside, I'm going to post this poem and hope you all enjoy it. It's pretty long. Sorry :(. As you might be able to tell, the theme this week was travel...

Holly Golightly Meets Her Match

I hate Arizona,

even the canyon tried to swallow me whole-

if you had seen me giving that Mexican boy hell

in the Pepboys on a steamy Saturday evening ten minutes

before closing time and five hours after I was meant to be in San Diego

you would have believed in me

that was Yuma, but Pheonix was just the same

until Steve at the triple A sorted me out and

calmed me down after my battle of wits

with the morons at the dealership

I don't think it would have been easier if you were there

maybe in California, once i got out of the desert

that godforsaken desert that kept on and on and on

like the free range in New Mexico where I was sure

I would die an unrecorded death and not even the cattle

would find me before my body started to swell

and the silver bullet of my car began to stink to high heaven

but California, you would have liked that

San Diego, Los Angeles - not so much

but Monterey, Santa Barbara, that little unnamed town

with the stretch of beach so perfect it made me cry

and I sat there until the wind made my ears start to scream

my hair reduced to the beginnings of salty dreadlocks

it rained in San Francisco, the fog covered the bridge so that

I couldn't see anything but the faint outline of Alcatraz

the old married couples and teenage lovers asked for pictures anyway

I made sure to hold the button halfway to focus so they remember clearly

the deeper I got into the forest the less enchanted I felt

farther and farther from your cities and night life

and Chinese take out you say is actually crap

but better than none at all and I kept driving through

what they call the Avenue of the Giants

and hoping to God that there would be some sort

of food to be found sometime soon because

it is lonely in the Pacific Northwest

so I waited by the homeless man at the Capitol building

and climbed trees barefoot in the snow

met a little girl named Sorcha who can't eat dairy but whose

mother speaks Irish and comes from Donegal

they have tea with Susan in her shop on High Street almost every day

I found a family who needed me more than you

I waited there and chased away monsters,

they loved the circus called Merlin on the Trampoline

there was no trampoline in my room with the slanted ceiling

right off Chemeketa street that was not really a street

just a dead end like the light in my room wasn't daylight

only a pull string light bulb and at night

the train made its last round at two a.m.

Oregon's state motto is She flies

with her own wings and so I did too

and left the children running after me in the middle

of the road where no one but the mailman who was afraid

of the dog who would never bite, ever stood

I tried to tell the man with the ukelele on the park bench goodbye

but he had never found my gold watch and walked away with his shopping cart

Idaho is a place where people from Oregon

go to rehab and young women should never travel

alone because the woman at the only convenience store

in what is not a town outside of Boise would never

trust the roads or men in Idaho

but Utah is just as questionable with shirtless roadside truckers

who rose from their moving cab to wave at me while I took a picture

of snowcapped mountains because I'd never seen mountains

with that much snow and though I'm sure that missionaries are people

just like us, the lady in Idaho doesn't believe people

have manners west of the Mississippi River

I cried in hotel rooms that only had room for one king bed and still

smelled vaguely of cigarettes and one night stands even though

the sign outside showed happy families that looked like the type

of people that might smoke but never inhale

I didn't write this part of my life down because you had stopped reading

and I stopped crying when I found more snow in Wyoming and two cowboys

who checked the air in my tires and told me not to drive too fast

the roads are so so straight out here and I can drive forever because stopping

means I might miss something

you almost made me miss the Rockies but I pulled

myself together in time because I would never forgive myself

had I not flirted with the college boys on a skiing trip just because I could

I had not spoken a word for miles except

to that boy you never liked because you said he was a creep

and something of a redneck with too much money

he wanted to marry me but I thought it was a joke

like the boys at the rest stop with their skis on top of Toyotas

who bought me a coffee and asked me if I would stay

Nebraska came just in time to sway me with October,

there is nothing like that light that you imagine never appears anywhere else

except maybe just off the Columbia River over the Cascades into

the Indian reservation on your way out of Portland

but surely, nowhere else but there and this stretch of land

that Willa Cather used as propaganda to lure you and me into a

false sense of security because I was not your Antonia after all

because heaven isn't heaven, it's only Iowa

I stayed just long enough to cross into Missouri

where the only thing between Kansas City and St. Louis

is what saves these cities from themselves and the rolling hills

produce red barns and farmhouses that match the ones in my dreams

the best grilled cheese I ever had came from the Sonic drive thru just

before midnight and I would have gone for another but I was writing again

as if I didn't know that the arches in St. Louis would be the gateway to the hell

that is Indiana but is still more appealing than Arizona or say, perhaps

Lubbock, Texas regardless of the musical genius it produced

everyone has to get out of somewhere and in Texas there's nothing else to do

but learn to play guitar and hope one day you might live somewhere else

even if it means living in Indiana

the Queen of England has never been to Arkansas

but she has been to Louisville, Kentucky

and I have been to both and you have been to neither

I don't believe it is because you can't appreciate the beauty

of something you don't understand but perhaps it plays a factor or

perhaps you are just afraid even if I believed you were never afraid

of anything save running out of cigarettes or those drugs you stashed

behind the air vents in my car that summer we spent driving around

Staunton, Virginia for no apparent reason except I remember it was Staunton

because of the Waffle House by the interstate exit

by the time I hit the mountains, the ones that don't have snow in the summer

I was feeling better about you not feeling at all

when the sun hits the dome of the capitol in Charleston, West Virginia

it is best to look away to avoid the glare and pray that you stay on the bridge

and everyone else does too because that dome is really something else

they may burn couches in Huntington and you may say that the people here

are backwards and I may be inclined to agree but there is nothing you can say

about the mountains that go on forever like the sea in California

that moved me and would have moved you but you were not a part

of this journey even if it was your idea and I cross the mountains anyway

and I would do it over and over again because this is not the desert

I know you measure your life by the cities where you have lived

and the places you have traveled and not the people you meet

because you would see the rest stop and not the hippies outside

the men's restroom door hoping to catch a ride and maybe an extra joint

to end up at another bathroom door a couple hundred miles somewhere else

and you would never offer them a ride not because you aren't like them

but because you wouldn't see them because

for all your interest in the world you wouldn't be caught dead

buying peanuts from a vending machine off Route 66

I didn't know that but I do now and I only have you to thank

for the unlikely conversation over strawberry shortcake with the old man

who ran that bakery in Memphis and the sweet black man who worked there

and left shortly after to become a hairdresser in Chicago

if it weren't for you I would never have befriended that cop that pulled me over

at the state line outside of Lincoln, Nebraska and he would never have warned me

about that speed trap in Iowa so I'm not sure how I can thank you for not

loving me enough and not moving into that studio apartment in New York City

where we were supposed to be instead of driving all over this giant country

that is more united than we are and that's not saying much

so this is me trying to thank you for your last act of tenderness

I am not afraid

I am. Not. Afraid.

What do you mean, read?

An interesting topic was brought up today in Fiction Class. We were talking about the structure of novels and if the traditional novel was on its way out in favor of books that favor experimental structures. Somehow, that got us talking about the reading habits of people (particularly young people) today. Is reading on its way out? Do people have the attention span anymore to read, say, Jane Austen, or is the novel dying? Why are novels like Harry Potter and Twilight so popular and why are they not being effectively used as a gateway to reading? I want to know what people think, so comment below!

In other news, I bought a different brand of garlic butter yesterday and I'm here to report that all garlic butters are not equal. This also applies to raincoats. While the majority of my torso stayed dry today, my raincoat was ill prepared to deal with the monsoon I faced walking to class today. My rainboots didn't let me down, and though my pants were drenched, literally dripping, my feet were dry. So this is good news. And class was pretty engaging today. Well worth getting soaked to talk about books and sip my almond latte.

Tonight's agenda includes eating, lots of tea, attempting to trim my hair (yes, this could get interesting) reading some criticism of the poet Nuala ni Dhomnaill (I think I spelled that right), and writing. Ah.