Shicago

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the others welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

-Derek Walcott

This is a very lovely poem from the beginning of The Time Traveler's Wife. I finally began reading it (thanks Chrissy :]) this past weekend , and I'm enjoying it very much so. I shall keep you updated.

This past weekend I went to visit my best friend, and unsuspectedly fell in love with a city while in her company. My brain's 'future wheels' were turning the whole weekend. I have decided that I want to intern in a big city like Chicago or New York. This isn't possible if I try and pursue the internship I've wanted since high school in Colorado Springs. If I get that internship, then I'll just go to grad school in a big city. However, how then will I fit in Flight Attendant training*? See? My 'future wheels' are all a wry. It's funny, though, because it may seem like I know what I want to do. This is false. All this future planning business is all quite silly, really. I mostly write about it in the moment, so that I can come back to blogs like this is five years and lean back in my chair with a hefty chortle.

Also, just for future Allyson's enjoyment: I've been seriously considering migrating away from the technical/creative writing aspect of Comm., and focusing more on the media aspect (graphic design, media production, communicative arts, photography). This sounds like a major junior in high school Alyson would have given you. Oh, bother.

Amidst the abundance of coffee shops, used bookstores, indie consignment shops, and well-dressed beautiful people (sometimes with questionable sexual orientation) in Chicago, I was reminded oh so subtly of one teeeny tiiiiiny thing.

LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS.

LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS.

"What's that on your legs?"

"Leggings..."

"Oh so they're not PANTS."

*blank stare upon realizing that they forgot half of their wardrobe*

Seriously. For the love of covered butts. Wear dresses over your leggings, not just shirts that are meant to cover top half only. Goodness gracious. this bothers the geeberz out of me.

It's not stylish. It's gross and immodest.

Anyway, in this bookstore pictured above, they had a giant poetry anthology section. However, each of my favorite poets/short story authors seemed to be left out. Fitzgerald, Cummings, Plath... absent. Except Plath's Bell Jar stared me down, once again. I almost gave in a bought it this time. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I've never been so scared to read a book, before. I mean, she wrote it right before she committed suicide. A brilliantly insane mind is often not to be peered into.

Lastly, a few artists for you to enjoy. Did any of you know The Format? Oh they were my absolute favorite when I drove into the indie music scene freshman year of high school. Such good music. Anyway, the lead singer formed a new band after The Format broke up. Great debut album. Fun. Also, I really have been enjoying Aiden Hawken.

And yes, I've finally given Vampire Weekend a real chance. I don't know, it's fun music I guess, but it's nothing fantastic. We'll see.

Rad: School.

Unrad: Wanting to be several things when I grow up.

Greek Episode: (Oh you guys are going to flip...) Season 2 Episode 17! YES.

*I'm dead serious about the flight attendant thing. It's been my plan since high school to pursue a few years of flight training soon after college. I've researched it AND done a mock interview. Serious business.

xx