Iberia!

Last Wednesday saw me in my professor's office on the first week of school. I was there to anxiously inform him that, however amped I was to study Dylan Thomas, I would be missing the first two lectures of the term...because I was taking a week off to galavant through Portugal and Spain...because I'm an uncultured American who's never been anywhere and a girl whose life mottos are sometimes too heavily influenced by Hilary Duff...

"Enjoy Iberia!" He exclaimed as I left, relieved he'd been so understanding. I smiled and thanked him and perhaps threw a 'thumbs up' at him because for some reason Europe's done that to me?? It wasn't until I was on the other side of the door I realized it wouldn't have been ridiculous for me to ask him what "Iberia" was instead of contemplating on my own the word I'd never heard before. It's nice that even though I've yet to have a class with him, the prof's still managed to teach me something (with a lil help from Google.)

My Iberian adventure was unbelievable.

I bought myself a bottle of wine (rose, not the normal plane size bottle -- imagine a toddler size bottle rather than the teeny tiny baby kind) on the flight in while the man next to me taught me a few key Portuguese phrases. The airport shuttle ride was me and five middle aged vacationers who I informed, very excitedly, that it was my 22nd birthday in one hour, can you believe it?! The hour long ride from Faro to Armação de Pêra soundtracked by a night club kind of Portuguese/Late 2000s hits mix and I was in awe of Portugal at every turn. They dropped me off in front of a cyber cafe/convenient store (yes...for real) when I realized I had no idea what the actual apartment number was...Also I was apparently in the wrong place entirely...After an anxious 10 minutes the sight of Alexa and Gwen running towards me from the down the street, while the two kind Portuguese store clerks looked on in amusement at the wild American girls hugging and yelling, filled me relief and elation.

Birthday excitement flowing through my veins it wasn't even that difficult to get out of bed for a beach sunrise. The serenity of a deserted oceanfront at daybreak, soft sand, warm water, everything awash in oranges, pinks, blues, yellows; I've never known colors that vibrant. It was the perfect start to an absolutely perfect day.

Drinks In The Ocean

We returned to the beach a few hours later properly packed to settle in for the day, equipped with enough wine, beer, and snacks for the afternoon...Not enough sunscreen, however, I literally emptied my bottle right then and there, which left all of us burnt in unfortunate and strange patterns across our bodies.

It was six hours of laughing, bonding with new friends, catching up with old ones, discussing the future and the past, eating everything, briefly going topless because we could. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and I didn't have a care in the world. (This is not a normal feeling for me, a constant ball of anxiety.) It was the most relaxed I've ever been in my life.

I treated myself to a birthday steak dinner, obviously, and extremely overpriced Sangria, then we hit Albufeira for the night clubs. As the area's a tourist spot, the bars were mostly middle aged Brits on holiday (seriously Brits get to go on SO MANY HOLIDAYS; jobs here just let people have time off...all the time. Like, every year. It's bonkers. Get that together, America), but one club played "Gasolina" followed by "Jai Ho" and then Shakira's anthem "Waka Waka" and it was the highlight of my night.

happy girls

The next day took us to Lisbon, where we stayed at the world's greatest (medium-sized) hostel, according to HostelWorld and according to ME out of all the hostels I've stayed in so far. It's literally called HOME, it's cozy AS HECK, with a patio, living room, and full-experience three course home-cooked meals every night made by the owner Mamma for only 10 EURO. She literally takes everyone's personal dietary restrictions into consideration. It was incomparable. We saw Lisbon's open-air church and museum, the Castle of St. Jorge, and unreal views from a couple of the cities' miradouros. One of Portugal's 'things' is free shots upon welcoming someone and with every dinner and it is one of my favorite countries in the world, so far. Portugal and Ireland have absolutely stolen my heart.

Cheetah Girl's 2 gave me high hopes for Barcelona, and it met them, but October in Iberia means winter's coming and that means rain season. It absolutely poured straight through our first day in Spain, the kind of storm that doesn't allow for great exploration. I managed to see a lot of the Gothic Quarter though, and honestly, it was some of the most incredible and oldest architecture I've ever experienced, so, cool. I ate patatas bravas either with or in substitute of every meal and mixed a lot of wine and cerveza.

The overcast skies didn't deter us from what I came to Barcelona determined to do: Monserrat. It's a serrated mountain ridge, with an old church and abbey built into it, and Spain's first National Park. Astonishing doesn't begin to describe the entire impact of being there. It was by far the peak of the trip and potentially my entire life -- Four years in private Catholic school, forced to go to church at least once a week, and I've never felt closer to religion than literally above the clouds, sitting atop a Spanish mountain.

Gwen, Ashley, and I then braved the extremely aggressive club promoters of La Rambla and Plaça Reial and spent the night bumpin' and grindin' in an undeniably hip but small, sweaty basement. I'm pretty sure we left around 2/2:30, but the club showed no signs of slowing down. At all. The clubs literally stay open until the party dies and sometimes the Barcelona party don't stop until, like, 7 AM. I was busing to the airport Saturday morning at 7 and actually watched hoards of drunk people crawling from clubs to cabs with the sunrise. It was honestly kind of beautiful.

The third day was finally sunny and warm and we hit the dry pavement, covering over half the width of the surprisingly large city, passing by Gaudí's Sagrada Família and spending the afternoon wandering Park Güell. It's been hard to say goodbye to every city so far, but the end of a trip is always a confusing co-mingling of relieved exhaustion, disappointment that it's over, and excitement to move on to what's next.

Swansea welcomed me home again with clear skies and a huge group hug from my lovely new Swan friends.

Originally Posted: 10/19/16.

Poetry!

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

-- ee cummings

Live from Tuesday night at a coffee shop, it's poetry night! Also, it's National Poetry Month, so that's cool.

I've always had a strange relationship with poetry. It was middle school internet-exploration that initially sparked my interest in poems; "To the Virgins" caught my attention and stuck with me -- mostly because of *sex* but also because even then I was rolling my 8th grade eyes at the (weak) lengths horny men would go to in attempts to get some. It is beautifully written though, and basically the inspiration for modern classics such as this Drake masterpiece. I embarrassed myself in front of my high school freshman year english teacher I had a hopeless crush on during the poetry section of the year. (Oh, god, it was awful...But it was fun.) More recently, I've put myself on stage during open mic poetry nights and read work by other authors (I've read this because it's held a spot on my desktop for over a year and yes I found it on Tumblr, but whatever, I like it a lot. It's very Gryffindor and I can get behind that), though I've never read one of my own because I definitely do not feel as close to writing poetry as I do to reading it.

I could read and analyze beautiful lines of poetic art endlessly, but writing it is not an area I feel comfortable in, yet. My phone is full of works in progress, my notebook margins are black with illegibly scribbled lines, even this blog holds private drafts of poems started up to three or four years ago. Sharing work is a crucial part of being a writer, but poetry feels different, ultimately far more personal and, because it can be so free form, I don't have an outline to follow -- which means my writing stands totally on its own, bare to judgement. Which is SCARY. (Criticism is not my jam. I'm working on it. It's a life long process, I'm sure.) 

The first time I came to poetry night here, it was almost religious. I ordered the legendary Honey and Lavender Latte for the first time, the room was practically standing room only, and a girl with enormous talent got up and read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, a poem that has always touched me ever since a boy I liked in high school mentioned it in passing and I looked it up to further get a sense of him and happened to find a part of myself there, too. Currently, sitting at a well-worn wooden table waiting for another wave of talented peers to take the stage in front of me, I'm writing this in lieu of finishing the massive final paper due tomorrow for my African American Lit class. This is all relevant, though, because Third Girl from the Left is about three generations of women and their relationships to art; one character, Tamara, specifically says at one point: "I thought about what pictures could do. What they could do if you weren't afraid." Replace "pictures" with "words" and wow! What an applicable contribution to this topic! 

Being afraid and doing it anyway, whatever it is, is hugely important. Art wields incredible power and the world is better for having more of it. I'm beyond grateful to have this time every week to celebrate artistic expression in an immediate and personal way; every night should be poetry night! Every month should be poetry month! It'd be crazy awesome if anyone that has taken the time to read this hot mess would take another extra minute share one of their favorite poems. Like, I'm begging you. I live for that stuff.

Originally Posted: 4/7/15.

VOTE!

"On November 9, we will have to become a unified country again," - Dana Schwartz.

The election is tomorrow but the ordeal is far from over.

It's the only thing we've been hearing about for two years now, it felt so far off when once upon a time it was announced that an actual personified joke would be running for President of the United States. But no one's laughing on Election Eve.

It's the first thing anyone mentions at the sound of my accent, right after they ask if I own any guns: "Who're you voting for?"

It's on BBC daily in the student center. It's mentioned in every lecture. It's on everyone's minds.

The world is watching and I'm afraid.

"It's a big one..." the postal employee says, her eyes wide when I request an envelope to send home my US ballot. She's shaking her head, generally astonished.

"I know, it's been CRAZY. Definitely more dramatic than any election I've seen so far." She says she's never seen anything like it...I hope out loud we never see one this awful again. (Although, with our parameter for awful-ness now set so high, I shudder to imagine how it could get worse.)

Either way the results come in, whoever wins in the end, can anyone predict what happens next? I haven't the faintest idea. I can't picture the next move; it's all just a black intimidating abyss. I remember the relative easing in of the Obama administration, nothing changed at first -- it was a slow two months until he was sworn in, from what I remember (I wasn't paying as much attention the first Obama term, because I was young [I couldn't vote until his second]). It honestly felt a little anti-climactic, even with crossing the milestone of electing the first black president.

The whole world knows this election with be anything but anticlimactic. No matter who wins, the aftermath is still so up in the air, unclear, ready to explode. I'm nervous about watching it unfold from afar. I'm scared that this Presidency could do a lot of damage, both foreign and domestic.

It has been the global sentiment I've encountered so far: US politics affects everyone, everywhere. This is baffling to think about considering the small number of people that actually have a say in who wins US elections -- The US voter population is so vastly dwarfed by the reach of our political impact. Further more, we have the most ridiculous thing in the world called the Electoral College and they get to decide who wins the presidency, anyway, potentially regardless of the popular vote.

All that matters is you vote, regardless of the system. We have to work with what we've got and make our voices heard -- especially women and people of color. Countless people have given their lives to make sure that people who aren't white males have access to this system in the first place. Disenfranchised voices are the ones that need to be heard the most! There are powerful people working all over the country in a myriad of ways to make voting harder for people whose voices they don't want to hear, even still in 2016. If that doesn't make you pissed enough to vote, then I hope you can find something that does motivate you to vote, anyway.

The election ends tomorrow night but this is just the beginning of the next four years. And also the rest of forever. But no pressure.

Originally Posted: 11/7/16.

Thicke Headed (and Seriously Messed Up)

Robin Thicke strikes again! His latest single "Get Her Back" is a sort of promising attack on his ex-wife that he wants her back, and he gets what he wants.*

**

Love is about respect. If someone doesn't want to be with you, you have to respect that. It'd be a different story if this song were a lament about how he missed her and felt bad for how things happened etc. but this is clearly a plea to "Get Her Back"---of course, who would expect Robin Thicke (of all people) to have any respect for what a woman wants? Paula Patton, the woman he's prepositiong, and every other person on the planet, get to decide for themselves who they do or do not want to be with. Just because you want someone doesn't mean you should force yourself onto them. With an intimidating show of blood and violence, this video clearly demonstrates force.

When a relationship ends, I'd presume ESPECIALLY a marriage, the two people must grieve and process on their own in order to adjust and move forward. When one person refuses to leave the other person alone, that is not only disrespectful, it is abusive. It's stalking and harassment behavior. Not to mention that taking all of this private relationship drama and dragging it into the public eye is extremely manipulative. He's attempting to show the world how worthy he is of her (this actually has nothing to do with her) and make the world feel sorry for him---if the public sympathizes with him (because look at how "vulnerable" he is! He's so genuine! This album -- totally crafted and controlled by him -- truly gives us a look into what kind of person he is and how his relationship was!!!!) then why shouldn't she?! Now he's turned her into a monster that broke his heart and refuses to accept his sincerest apologies. Which is an entirely bullshit strategy.

There is nothing sweet or romantic about threatening: "This is only the beginning." She's obvioulsy made it clear that "It's too soon" and she's done because he "ruined everything" but he just won't leave her alone. Because he wants her back and what he wants is what's really important here, clearly.

As usual, it bears repeating that this "artist" is 100% in control of what he says/does/releases and he gets to choose how he comes across within his music. Just because he wants to appear vulnerable and genuine doesn't mean he's actual making himself vulnerable or being genuine. Unless making himself vulnerable to being on the receiving end of a restraining order counts. Thicke is not the first musician to take this route regarding his pursuit of a lover and, unfortunately, I'm sure he won't be the last. That doesn't make it ok and I say we, as a society, refuse to accept this pathetic romanticized stalking into our hearts or our music charts.

*just typing that made me feel slimy, very reminiscent of
**lyrics if you'd rather not watch for whatever reason, one being the fact that watching contributes to views which contributes to him/his ego/his bank account/his perceived popularity etc. but I did watch and it was gross and disturbing the entire time so I basically wish I hadn't

Originally Posted: 6/26/14.