lofty dreams

Today was a shorter day. But combined the last two days have seen a major overhaul of the house. To explain what has happened I would need to describe the layout of the house. And I don't particularly feel like doing that right now.

Let me just say that the house feels huge now. The living room echoes, as it is now void of almost all of its original furniture (only a blue reclining armchair remains, along with some furniture that will not stay permanently). Walking from room to room, I get the feeling I am living in a large loft. The effect the combination of the emptiness and the acoustics has is very, very surreal for lack of a better word.

I honestly can't believe we got here, and we have our handyman of a cousin to thank for it. (Thank you, Manny!)

What's left, you ask? There's a lot more recycling and organizing to do. We filled a 21-foot-long dumpster that's eight feet wide and five feet tall. It got dropped off at 7.15 this morning and it's getting picked up sometime tomorrow. Then we have to go about the house, painting the rooms. Then we'll refurnish the living room. Replace the refrigerator perhaps. Rejuvenate the beautiful hardwood floors. Recarpet the playroom-turned-storage room-turned-haven't-figured-it-out-yet room. Install blinds in my room and in the large room that used to be filled with all kinds of stuff (it has very little in it now, compared to what it was like before).

This is a very strange place to be. Yes, I do mean physically. Samson has found the building very disorienting himself. He had trouble sleeping last night because the sofas in the living room, his regular resting place at night, had been evacuated.

More than this though, I just can't believe it's happened. Finally, we just might be getting the house we deserve, the lifestyle we think we can aspire to. I mean, I have said for years that I want to clean up the house so we could actually invite people over. It never got done because no one would step up and help. And then I became lazy. I didn't believe people when they said they would help. And when the people I did believe said they'd clean up, I was in England. I guess it would only get done if I were here and had people on my side.

back to normal

I have good news and I have bad news. I'll give you the good news first: I am completely unpacked and my back, neck, shoulders, and head no longer hurt. The bad news is that Stephanie is gone, and I am afraid that her leaving (she's in the air as I write this) is the only reason I unpacked finally after having been home for more than one week.

C'est la vie.

casting off

Finally! It's happened. The raspberry-colored acrylic scarf that I started in early November as my first knitting project is finished. I know, I know. I am a very slow knitter because I am still not comfortable with the moves. Plus my needles are metal and heavy. You should see how I hold the needles and yarn while knitting. Highly inefficient. Also please keep in mind that I would go weeks without ever working on it because I probably made a mistake and didn't know how to fix it myself.

My friend Lisa is the one who originally taught me how to knit. She has watched me try to finish the project and she has been there to fix my many mistakes. Because of this, I must admit that she finished the scarf. In just ten minutes, she tacked on the extra inches that I was too impatient to add myself after I worked on it for an hour and a half this afternoon (and probably only added an inch). I am just so glad it's finished! And I'm definitely going to wear it out. I mean, how many times can you say that you're wearing something you yourself made? (Actually, for me, it's almost every day because I made the boxer shorts decorated with a loud floral pattern that I only wear at home, never out on the street.)

I will remember the scarf as my first knitting project, yes, but it has added significance because I will always associate it with my time in England.

what happens when you spend your saturday sitting an exam?

I literally just got back from my French film exam. I have done three silly things today and it is not even noon. And I'm not too proud to tell you about them here, in chronological order:

1.) It was so crowded in the hallway outside the examination room that I didn't even think to make sure that I was entering the correct restroom. Yes, in other words, I first went into the men's room. Seeing urinals, I thought, "Shit, I could have sworn the women's was on the left." I have no idea if other people noticed. If not, good. If they did, there were probably a lot. So many people were standing near the toilets.

2.) How about some irony? I rewatched five films to prepare for the exam: Subway (1985), Lacombe Lucien (1974), Les 400 Coups (1959), A Bout de souffle (1960), and Diva (1981). I anticipated that I would have to write two essays on the different groupings of the films (i.e. New Wave, cinema du look, etc.), so that's why I did this. But I ended up just writing an essay on Les Amants du Pont-Neuf (1991). I didn't rewatch it because I thought I remembered it well enough, but I dreaded the moment I actually had to name the main character. I think it's Alex. I hope so. That's what I wrote throughout the essay. I admit it wasn't very structured and that it was half-assed. But then I found myself reenergized for the second essay. Read on.

3.) The second essay, which was considerably a lot longer because I had so much more to say, was about how A Bout de souffle is the "most radically innovative film," "in cinematic terms," that I have studied on the course. Why is this funny other than the fact that I hate watching the film? I wrote a fuckin' killer essay. It is so good in fact that I wish I could get a copy of it. I love it because it was an essay that came together organically, really. There was never a point at which I stopped and realized I might be on the track toward contradicting myself. What a relief!

(In case you're interested, I wrote about how Godard uses innovative technology, editing methods, and storytelling techniques to illustrate his ideology that cinema is just an illusion of reality. In other words, he's acknowledging that there's not much of a story to A Bout de souffle. Instead, he's just manipulating the medium to show how constructed a medium it is.)

Five down. Three to go!

welcome home

Animal Collective came on. I couldn't take it anymore. I went to investigate whether or not I could get RadioIO80s from the station's website. Yes, and to cut a short story even shorter: I'm even streaming it in iTunes. Thank. Fuckin'. God. I feel so much better, more at ease. There's nothing better than (most of) this music.

Now I have a different kind of situation. I was planning on actually *gasp* leaving my floor today. It'd be the first time since Friday. Now that I have my station back, I don't want to leave just yet. I need to get out of here, though. RadioIO80s will still be here.

Going.

let's call the whole thing off

Thank god for libraries, that is all I have to say.

After days of writer's block, I spent about six hours in the library, brainstorming for this essay on the narrative perspective of "The Metamorphosis." Afterwards, I was even brave enough to write by hand the whole damn thing. Now all I need to do is type it up and edit, edit, edit.

I know what you're thinking. Why didn't you just go to the library all those days ago if you knew it would help you work? Well, it was closed for about five days for the Easter holiday week(end). I had to wait just to sit inside, to get away from my computer's multifarious distractions and to get away from the bed whenever I felt depressed or bored.