I started reading this book this evening, and I've amassed a number of good mental notes, but this one, I had to write down.
Sandrine picked a flower and started pulling off its petals, "Il m'aime un peu, beaucoup, passionnement, à la folie, pas du tout."
29 September 2011
01 June 2011
Just a little quote from a big shiny spirit
"happy? anybody can be happy. what purpose does that serve?" -bob dylan
29 April 2011
It Never Hurts to Ask
I'm dedicating this note to the power of positive thinking. No, I've never read 'The Secret,' but apparently I don't need to.
As my birthday/personal-New-Year approaches, I thought it only fit to reflect upon the incredible influence this philosophy has had on the past 11 months of my life.
It Never hurts to ask
Let's rewind to June, 2010. I'm in Paris, and I see that my old friend, Hillary, has posted something about the the Bastille on her facebook. I wondered, 'Could it be that she's in Paris, too?" So I ASKED her, and it turns out she was living there; And this information would completely transform my summer, lead on a trip to Spain, and many other wonderful adventures, as well as rekindle an old friendship. Also Hillary suggests I apply to work at the Sundance Film Festival.
In October, I found out that I'd gotten a volunteer position at Sundance. Hooray, can't wait! Also in October, I wrote this author, named David Shields, an email saying that I liked his book and wondered whether anyone had bought the writes to make it into a movie.
Jumping forward to November and I'm meeting Hillary at her sister's apartment in NYC. Why? Because I knew she was coming home to the States and didn't want to pass up the opportunity to take on New York with the Andujar twins. I simply ASKED her sister if I could stay with them, and what a fabulous trip it was.
Meanwhile, I had also emailed a cousin of mine on Long Island, whom I knew was rather connected to the television industry, and ASKED if I might have a meeting with him. This of course turned into three meetings, 2 of which were with executives at AMC. And when I ASKED them for advice in my career, they both said, "You need to be in L.A!" (Do you see where this is going?)
January comes and I have the absolute time of my life at Sundance. My passion for filmmaking is reignited.
February and David Shields and I are signing an agreement, giving me the rights to his book for one year. I'm excited but don't know where to start so I reach out to a professor at Columbia, and ASK about sitting in on the Adaptation class in LA.
April comes around and I'm getting paid to T.A. in the adaptation class. Everyday I'm meeting real, professional, screenwriters and filmmakers, and making new friends. And now I've ASKED a few people to pass along my resume. We'll see where that goes. I have an inkling.
Just last week, I ended up at Coachella because I thought, What the hell, let's try to get in (And my friends were very encouraging). On the second day, I saw a woman handing out wristbands near the VIP entrance by the Main Stage. I ASKED to have one, and moments later, Mikayla and I were backstage, at the Arcade Fire show, throwing illuminated balls at the crowd, laughing, next to the lead singer of Mumford & Sons.
All year long, I've been very deliberate about taking an active role in the course of my life.
My point is that you should start asking for things. Send that email. Ask for that interview, that date, that wristband, that book option. Take a chance, take a trip, go after the things you sit around and tell people you want.
Sasha told me on the phone recently that she's getting nervous about going into the Peace Corps. But in the same sentence she also said, "I can't see getting to the place I want to be in my life without doing this first." Evaluate your priorities, decide how much you're willing to sacrifice, and take whatever little baby steps you can think of to go in the direction of your dreams. If you think this sounds cheesy, then good luck to you.
A Jack Johnson song came on the radio the other day and he said, "Don't let your dreams be dreams."
Try it out. I'm telling you...
...It never hurts to ask.
As my birthday/personal-New-Year approaches, I thought it only fit to reflect upon the incredible influence this philosophy has had on the past 11 months of my life.
It Never hurts to ask
Let's rewind to June, 2010. I'm in Paris, and I see that my old friend, Hillary, has posted something about the the Bastille on her facebook. I wondered, 'Could it be that she's in Paris, too?" So I ASKED her, and it turns out she was living there; And this information would completely transform my summer, lead on a trip to Spain, and many other wonderful adventures, as well as rekindle an old friendship. Also Hillary suggests I apply to work at the Sundance Film Festival.
In October, I found out that I'd gotten a volunteer position at Sundance. Hooray, can't wait! Also in October, I wrote this author, named David Shields, an email saying that I liked his book and wondered whether anyone had bought the writes to make it into a movie.
Jumping forward to November and I'm meeting Hillary at her sister's apartment in NYC. Why? Because I knew she was coming home to the States and didn't want to pass up the opportunity to take on New York with the Andujar twins. I simply ASKED her sister if I could stay with them, and what a fabulous trip it was.
Meanwhile, I had also emailed a cousin of mine on Long Island, whom I knew was rather connected to the television industry, and ASKED if I might have a meeting with him. This of course turned into three meetings, 2 of which were with executives at AMC. And when I ASKED them for advice in my career, they both said, "You need to be in L.A!" (Do you see where this is going?)
January comes and I have the absolute time of my life at Sundance. My passion for filmmaking is reignited.
February and David Shields and I are signing an agreement, giving me the rights to his book for one year. I'm excited but don't know where to start so I reach out to a professor at Columbia, and ASK about sitting in on the Adaptation class in LA.
April comes around and I'm getting paid to T.A. in the adaptation class. Everyday I'm meeting real, professional, screenwriters and filmmakers, and making new friends. And now I've ASKED a few people to pass along my resume. We'll see where that goes. I have an inkling.
Just last week, I ended up at Coachella because I thought, What the hell, let's try to get in (And my friends were very encouraging). On the second day, I saw a woman handing out wristbands near the VIP entrance by the Main Stage. I ASKED to have one, and moments later, Mikayla and I were backstage, at the Arcade Fire show, throwing illuminated balls at the crowd, laughing, next to the lead singer of Mumford & Sons.
All year long, I've been very deliberate about taking an active role in the course of my life.
My point is that you should start asking for things. Send that email. Ask for that interview, that date, that wristband, that book option. Take a chance, take a trip, go after the things you sit around and tell people you want.
Sasha told me on the phone recently that she's getting nervous about going into the Peace Corps. But in the same sentence she also said, "I can't see getting to the place I want to be in my life without doing this first." Evaluate your priorities, decide how much you're willing to sacrifice, and take whatever little baby steps you can think of to go in the direction of your dreams. If you think this sounds cheesy, then good luck to you.
A Jack Johnson song came on the radio the other day and he said, "Don't let your dreams be dreams."
Try it out. I'm telling you...
...It never hurts to ask.
04 January 2011
Guess I forgot to Pack My standards (8.12.10 )
When you travel, naturally, your habits change. You might be waking up early to catch a train, or eating ice cream twice a day, or sleeping in the middle of the afternoon because well, when in Rome. I’ve definitely let myself go, so to speak, swinging this way and that following what is customary to the city I happen to find myself in. Yes I slept at least two hours each afternoon I spent in Italy. Yes, I had two scoops of ice cream before dinner yesterday. And yes, I’ve bought 3 new pairs of shoes. Gone are my reservations (not that I had much to start with), and, with each new day, increased instances of delighting myself in the pleasures of the planet. But with my inhibitions, seem to have gone my concerns for maintaining certain standards for living. It appears I may have left them stateside.
We started to notice it on the road trip in France. First, we were eating cheese that was being kept in no such refrigeration and the same goes for the wine; Shaking our yogurt into oblivion to make it drinkable. We were sleeping in the car, and using public pools and café bathrooms to substitute bathing. But it continued when I left France. In Italy I had sweat so much on my pillow before the train even departed the station that I should have turned it over, but I didn’t. Then, Sasha and I were eating watermelon that had been sitting out in the kitchen for an undetermined amount of time. At the beach, if you had to go, you went in the sea, even though it was full of jellyfish. If you don’t like Czech food, well, you eat it anyway (the worst). Your beer is always too warm, and your showers may be too cold. In one hostel, I actually used my Navy T-shirt to dry off and then I wrapped my hair up in it. Now, I’m using my Italy shirt as a pillowcase. I’ve been cycling only two pairs of socks; And just once, I used toothpaste to wash my face.
So now you know it’s not all double rainbows over here. Although, those aren’t complaints; In fact I am amazed how when the bliss outweighs the bad, it really makes everything feel all right. I am impervious to the ungood and magnetic to the fantastic. You would be too it you’d tasted that glace pistache I had yesterday. Yummm…
We started to notice it on the road trip in France. First, we were eating cheese that was being kept in no such refrigeration and the same goes for the wine; Shaking our yogurt into oblivion to make it drinkable. We were sleeping in the car, and using public pools and café bathrooms to substitute bathing. But it continued when I left France. In Italy I had sweat so much on my pillow before the train even departed the station that I should have turned it over, but I didn’t. Then, Sasha and I were eating watermelon that had been sitting out in the kitchen for an undetermined amount of time. At the beach, if you had to go, you went in the sea, even though it was full of jellyfish. If you don’t like Czech food, well, you eat it anyway (the worst). Your beer is always too warm, and your showers may be too cold. In one hostel, I actually used my Navy T-shirt to dry off and then I wrapped my hair up in it. Now, I’m using my Italy shirt as a pillowcase. I’ve been cycling only two pairs of socks; And just once, I used toothpaste to wash my face.
So now you know it’s not all double rainbows over here. Although, those aren’t complaints; In fact I am amazed how when the bliss outweighs the bad, it really makes everything feel all right. I am impervious to the ungood and magnetic to the fantastic. You would be too it you’d tasted that glace pistache I had yesterday. Yummm…
Rambling (7.17.10)
Today, I sat in a piazza in the southern Italian town of Lecce for about two hours, reading my book at the steps of a church where I could here the singing of a choir inside. I beg you to look up Lecce on a map and perhaps you can see how I find myself asking, “How did I get here?”—A place I never could have expected or imagined to be in my entire life, considering that the existence of this city was only made known to me about 10 hours ago. I’m awaiting a call from Sasha who is driving with Guissepe and company from who knows where to pick me up and take me to their Italian home, which resides in another city that I’m not even sure I’m pronouncing correctly, but I keep telling everyone, “I’m going to Ginosa.”
On the steps of this church, at a break between chapters, I had a thought about a scene from one of my favorite movies, Almost Famous. I recalled in my head, the scene near the end, when Opie arrives back to his home in San Diego and stares at his bed for a moment of glaring reverence just before he collapses into its familiar embrace. I feel a bit like Opie these days. Except that instead of gallivanting with rock stars, I’m gadding about with countries. Countries, I suppose, are a bit like rock stars. And everyday there’s, a famous city, cathedral, or monument at my disposal to observe and interview.
But today, in this not-so-famous town, that scene beckoned a thought to me, of my own bed in San Diego, an amusing additional likeness to the film. I thought, for the first time since I’ve been on the road, what it would be like to collapse into my own blessed, friendly sheets… but that’s many, many days from now, and perhaps I’ll be wondering again, “How did I get (back) here?” Am I homesick? No. I just like imagining my future self, at a moment of recollection, on events that I have not yet experienced. “Little did she know,” I’ll think to myself, perhaps re-reading this. For how could I know what is to come? Since to get to that bed, and that thought, I have a ways to go.
On the steps of this church, at a break between chapters, I had a thought about a scene from one of my favorite movies, Almost Famous. I recalled in my head, the scene near the end, when Opie arrives back to his home in San Diego and stares at his bed for a moment of glaring reverence just before he collapses into its familiar embrace. I feel a bit like Opie these days. Except that instead of gallivanting with rock stars, I’m gadding about with countries. Countries, I suppose, are a bit like rock stars. And everyday there’s, a famous city, cathedral, or monument at my disposal to observe and interview.
But today, in this not-so-famous town, that scene beckoned a thought to me, of my own bed in San Diego, an amusing additional likeness to the film. I thought, for the first time since I’ve been on the road, what it would be like to collapse into my own blessed, friendly sheets… but that’s many, many days from now, and perhaps I’ll be wondering again, “How did I get (back) here?” Am I homesick? No. I just like imagining my future self, at a moment of recollection, on events that I have not yet experienced. “Little did she know,” I’ll think to myself, perhaps re-reading this. For how could I know what is to come? Since to get to that bed, and that thought, I have a ways to go.
Hein?! (posting writings from summer)
Today was only my second day of classes and holy shit, I’m learning so much. It’s basic stuff still, but evenso I'm excited. What’s really exciting, for me anyhow, is the experience of being at school again. Only now, I’m in school in Europe. Many of my friends got the chance to study abroad during their college years, but unfortunately I didn’t have that opportunity, being that I transferred schools. Chicago was my abroad. For my younger friends, still in school; If you don’t foresee yourself in my position, a year after graduation, taking classes in a foreign country, then I urge you to take that semester abroad. The classroom atmosphere is simply fascinating. For example, in my class this afternoon was a person from Hungary, Lithuania, Italy, Brazil, China, Australia, Canada, Chad, and Germany. Then, in the afternoon, England, New York, South Korea, and Poland joined the party. And miraculously, we’re all sitting around speaking to each other in French. Through some Taoistic series of events, we have come to share one small classroom in Paris—Amazing.
Mon professeur et trés gentil. He’s white haired and wears a Hawaiian shirt and he smiles so big when you say something correctly. It’s really encouraging. I just smile all morning long as others and myself try spitting our new phrases and battle with those wretched R’s. This week, during the last hour of class, we’re working on learning a song. It’s gotta be from the 60’s (In fact, I just checked the internet and it’s from 1968) and there’s this awesome jazz flute in the instrumentals. Besides that it’s a great song, my teacher adores it, and you can tell he’s earnest about sharing it with us. He was singing it all down the hall after we were dismissed. My homework tonight is to commit to memory the first verse and chorus. It’s really simple, mais c’est trés sympatique.
In the afternoon, I have a different teacher. She’s much younger and really Parisian. By which I mean her speech is very rapid, she’s very animated when she’s talks, and she’s a bit frank, vulgar, and inviting all at the same time. My afternoon class today was Phonetics. Now, I have never taken a phonetics class in my life, not in any language, and to begin in French was, well, hilarious. We began with les voyelles nasales (the nasal vowels)—Those troublesome sounds that use a lot of throat and tongue to say, and make French very intimidating to beginners. For example, when you say oui (yes), you’re using a nasal vowel. Congratulations. Anyway, our teacher also writes with the phonetic alphabet, you know that one you see in the dictionary in parenthesis, and we spent most of today’s class (4 hours) trying to discern between three phonetic letter that all sound exactly like the first E in ‘elephant’ but should not sound alike (apparently). Our session went something like this:
Mme (sounding the phonetic letters): [ɔ], [ẽ], [a]
England: ehh, eh, ohh?
Me: ah, ehh, eyh
S. Korea: ew, oh, ou.
New York: ehh, ehh, ehh? oh, eh? Ah ehh aeh?
(this goes on for 5 minutes in circles, including the whole class. Then Mme. decides to have us read a bit of text)
Me: dans les marais (in the marais)
New york (in French): Excuse me, what’s the meaning of the word “Marais”?
Mme goes on to explain the word Marée [which is not the same word but we do not know this yet-- Remember this is phonetics and the two words are pronounces (almost) exactly the same way]. So she’s describing this word to us as “the movement of the sea” and we’re all looking around at each other trying to decide if it means “waves”, or “tide”, and we confirm that it means “tide”. The phrase I read must mean "in the tide", that souds nice, right? And then fancy New York brings out his iPhone with a translator app that’s like über hip and modern because earlier it translated a word for "grumpy” into “grouchy” and a word for “imbecile” into “cunt”. But before New York can get us a translation, Mme is writing the word on the board for us and we see that the spelling is not the same. So what was she talking about?!
This is when the giggles hit me, AND a third of the class. We just went on for 10 minutes trying to figure out the word for tide and it’s not even the RIGHT word. On top of that, this is Phonetics, not like our morning classes. We've been captured by a huge tangent.
So everyone is laughing in confusion, including our spicy, non-English-speaking, Parisian professor and so she tarts drawing a map of France and pointing out a city on the West coast that none of us have heard of. This isn’t helping. “Marais exists in this town,” she is trying to tell us. By now, New York has typed it into his iPhone and he yells out “Marsh, it’s a marsh, marshlands!” And from our faces, Mme can see we’ve understood. My giggles have reached their peak and I’m trying to spit out an “I’m sorry,” but I can’t. We spent the good part of an hour deciphering two words that I guess are related somehow but have really nothing to do with Phonetics, besides that they are words. I just couldn’t help but be amused at the lot of us trying to make our own translations for things, all the while Mme is graciously trying to act out the work for "marshlands" (you try it) and on several occasions, not one of us was riding the same train of thought. It's such a fascinating process. I really hope I didn’t lose you there, or worse, that I didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Needless to say, I’m having fun in class. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard with strangers before.
More good news, I’ve made a sort of friend from one of these strangers, England. She’s here for two weeks and I’m here for three. It’s nice to speak a little English between the breaks, but even better, she’s about on the same level as me and we can practice together.
Since I think I’ve gone on long enough after only two days in class, I will leave you with a word of the day:
.....Kind of brings a new perspective to the Energizer bunny, huh?
Au revoir mes amis. Amites!
PS- watch this if you want to get a better idea: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x346tj_les-nasales
PSS- for the song we're learning, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-7vv8F6XBE and get ready for jazz flute!
Mon professeur et trés gentil. He’s white haired and wears a Hawaiian shirt and he smiles so big when you say something correctly. It’s really encouraging. I just smile all morning long as others and myself try spitting our new phrases and battle with those wretched R’s. This week, during the last hour of class, we’re working on learning a song. It’s gotta be from the 60’s (In fact, I just checked the internet and it’s from 1968) and there’s this awesome jazz flute in the instrumentals. Besides that it’s a great song, my teacher adores it, and you can tell he’s earnest about sharing it with us. He was singing it all down the hall after we were dismissed. My homework tonight is to commit to memory the first verse and chorus. It’s really simple, mais c’est trés sympatique.
In the afternoon, I have a different teacher. She’s much younger and really Parisian. By which I mean her speech is very rapid, she’s very animated when she’s talks, and she’s a bit frank, vulgar, and inviting all at the same time. My afternoon class today was Phonetics. Now, I have never taken a phonetics class in my life, not in any language, and to begin in French was, well, hilarious. We began with les voyelles nasales (the nasal vowels)—Those troublesome sounds that use a lot of throat and tongue to say, and make French very intimidating to beginners. For example, when you say oui (yes), you’re using a nasal vowel. Congratulations. Anyway, our teacher also writes with the phonetic alphabet, you know that one you see in the dictionary in parenthesis, and we spent most of today’s class (4 hours) trying to discern between three phonetic letter that all sound exactly like the first E in ‘elephant’ but should not sound alike (apparently). Our session went something like this:
Mme (sounding the phonetic letters): [ɔ], [ẽ], [a]
England: ehh, eh, ohh?
Me: ah, ehh, eyh
S. Korea: ew, oh, ou.
New York: ehh, ehh, ehh? oh, eh? Ah ehh aeh?
(this goes on for 5 minutes in circles, including the whole class. Then Mme. decides to have us read a bit of text)
Me: dans les marais (in the marais)
New york (in French): Excuse me, what’s the meaning of the word “Marais”?
Then the fun begins
Mme goes on to explain the word Marée [which is not the same word but we do not know this yet-- Remember this is phonetics and the two words are pronounces (almost) exactly the same way]. So she’s describing this word to us as “the movement of the sea” and we’re all looking around at each other trying to decide if it means “waves”, or “tide”, and we confirm that it means “tide”. The phrase I read must mean "in the tide", that souds nice, right? And then fancy New York brings out his iPhone with a translator app that’s like über hip and modern because earlier it translated a word for "grumpy” into “grouchy” and a word for “imbecile” into “cunt”. But before New York can get us a translation, Mme is writing the word on the board for us and we see that the spelling is not the same. So what was she talking about?!
This is when the giggles hit me, AND a third of the class. We just went on for 10 minutes trying to figure out the word for tide and it’s not even the RIGHT word. On top of that, this is Phonetics, not like our morning classes. We've been captured by a huge tangent.
So everyone is laughing in confusion, including our spicy, non-English-speaking, Parisian professor and so she tarts drawing a map of France and pointing out a city on the West coast that none of us have heard of. This isn’t helping. “Marais exists in this town,” she is trying to tell us. By now, New York has typed it into his iPhone and he yells out “Marsh, it’s a marsh, marshlands!” And from our faces, Mme can see we’ve understood. My giggles have reached their peak and I’m trying to spit out an “I’m sorry,” but I can’t. We spent the good part of an hour deciphering two words that I guess are related somehow but have really nothing to do with Phonetics, besides that they are words. I just couldn’t help but be amused at the lot of us trying to make our own translations for things, all the while Mme is graciously trying to act out the work for "marshlands" (you try it) and on several occasions, not one of us was riding the same train of thought. It's such a fascinating process. I really hope I didn’t lose you there, or worse, that I didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Needless to say, I’m having fun in class. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard with strangers before.
More good news, I’ve made a sort of friend from one of these strangers, England. She’s here for two weeks and I’m here for three. It’s nice to speak a little English between the breaks, but even better, she’s about on the same level as me and we can practice together.
Since I think I’ve gone on long enough after only two days in class, I will leave you with a word of the day:
Batterie - Which means “drums”.
.....Kind of brings a new perspective to the Energizer bunny, huh?
Au revoir mes amis. Amites!
PS- watch this if you want to get a better idea: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x346tj_les-nasales
PSS- for the song we're learning, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-7vv8F6XBE and get ready for jazz flute!
If The Plane Goes Down, Damn
Yesterday I finished the book, Eat Pray, Love (This entry is not a book report). Throughout her story, the author explores meditations, which become a daily practice, to help her feel more balanced, think more clearly, but most importantly, get in-tune with herself; Maintain clean lines of communication between her consciousness, and that inner voice. I'm familiar with meditation, and in yoga, on a few occasions, I've even experienced that brief dip into that thoughtless realm. However, I haven't been to yoga in about a year (sadly), and I haven't spent anytime even thinking about meditation. Frankly, I don't have enough patience to sit and wait for my mind to still because I have a hyperactive brain and I'm just not willing to commit the time it would take. That being said, reading this book, in addition to the event which I am about to describe, have me reconsidering my views on the ancient exercise.
Last week I was on a Ryan Air flight from Bari, Italy to Parigi (Paris), reading the aforementioned book, on what had been a pretty smooth flight. It was a strange flight even. I'm not sure if it's just Europe, but everyone was walking about all the time, visiting each other between different sections of the plane, and standing in the aisles most of the flight. So I'm reading, and every once in a while I look up and watch the clouds go by and think, "what a fantastically unique view. How can anyone hate to fly?"
Then it's like the universe was having a go at me because instantaneously, everyone started clicking their seat belts, and the people standing were rushing back to their seats. I couldn't understand the Italian announcement but I hadn't felt any turbulence. Then the English translation came and in a frightfully hurried tone, the attendant told us that we would be experiencing turbulence, and to please fasten our seat belts.
Then the first jolt came. One of those dips that sends your stomach up into your ribs. I'm usually a very calm flier so I didn't worry at first because turbulence tends to pass quickly. But this ride was getting pretty shaky and to add to the eeriness of it, everyone had just become very quiet. The woman next to me had a small child and she pulled him in closer to her chest and started to rock him. Then the plane did something unusual, it sped up. I could tell because I was in the window seat and the clouds were now zooming by much faster than before. The engine got louder and this is when a bit of worry finally crept into my brain. My eyes met with the woman next to me and our expressions were the same, "they better know what they're doing and get this over with."
It was at this point, when the plane sped up and was jolting all about the sky like a jeep on African Safari, that the strangest thing happened: I started to (sort of) pray. Except I don't pray so, let's call it a meditation. I was sending my thoughts to the powers that be, I didn't really direct my thoughts toward any Lord or God. Just that undefined energy that seems to keep things going the way their meant to go. And I was hoping hard, that my plane landing in Parigi was a part of that big plan. I closed my eyes, pressed my fingertips together, and stared at a central speck in the darkness behind my eyelids. This "meditation" (if we're calling it that) played out like a discourse between myself, my inner voice, and this energy:
"This will pass soon."
"I realize I have no control over my destiny. I am a foolish human being for ever thinking so. All that I own are the choices I make."
Then I told myself, "well you better choose my words wisely then."
"Okay okay, remain calm and positive."
"This can't be it. I know this isn't it. I''ve visualized myself back in Paris, and I know I make it there."
"Don't be selfish, not now!"
I continued with the 'prayer,' "I realize that I am no more a special and unique snowflake than anyone else. We are all magnificent in our own ways. As are we small and inadequate. Everyone on this plane is a beautiful person with beautiful families waiting for them"
"Good start." I was sending all the positive energy I could muster into that recirculating air. This was actually working, i was starting to feel better, but the plane was still shaking a lot. Then it occurs to me that I've actually said before in conversation, how I believed it is probable, based on the amount of traveling that I do, that the way I'll go will be down with a plane.
"That was a stupid and morbid thing to say," I'm thinking now.
"No, you're going to die old, comfortable, safe, and surrounded by friends," I tell myself (this is the first time I've ever had this thought of dying old). I keep going.
"You've got nieces and nephews to watch grow up. They're going to do the most amazing things you can't even imagine how much love you will have for them, how proud of them you'll feel as they get older. You can't comprehend all that they will accomplish."
The plane kept speeding up and slowing down.
Then I thought, "you can't get too specific right now, there's not a lot of time to be dilly-dallying like this," so out of nowhere, I concentrated on just two words and I repeated them over and over at least 100 times.
"Love & gratitude, love & gratitude, love & gratitude...., love..... & gratitude....."
I sent this love out to all the people on the plane and all the people below us. I expressed gratitude for everything I had ever been given, tasted, and experienced.
"Love & gratitude, love & gratitude, love & gratitude," over and over again, until the turbulence finally.... stopped.
I have no idea how long this went on for. My guess is 20 minutes. I've never had this feeling on a plane before. I love to fly, and I know the risk of dying in a plane crash is far less likely thank dying in a car accident. I also believe that your time is your time. But I had a very real experience with fear, and my reaction to this fear, I feel, is worth investigating.
Needless to say, we landed in Paris, and everyone applauded vigorously once those wheels met that tarmac.
So last night, thinking of this moment again, and those two words. I decided to try this meditation again, but this time with much more peaceful, dare I say controlled, surroundings. I opened the window and sat on my bed and tried to be very still for at least a few minutes. And I repeated this again, "Love & Gratitude, love & gratitude," until I felt like I really meant it.
Then I thought I should use this silence and this stillness to do a little getting in-tune-with-yourself-exercise, and this question came to me immediately, "Why did you come here?"
"Good question, I get asked that a lot... Why am I in France? That's a tough one. The answer's quite complicated. Besides, doesn't the Universe know already?"
"Yes, but do you know?"
I do know, but that's a story for another entry.
Safe travels, all my love, and thanks to those special few who actually read these things.
-Lindsey
Last week I was on a Ryan Air flight from Bari, Italy to Parigi (Paris), reading the aforementioned book, on what had been a pretty smooth flight. It was a strange flight even. I'm not sure if it's just Europe, but everyone was walking about all the time, visiting each other between different sections of the plane, and standing in the aisles most of the flight. So I'm reading, and every once in a while I look up and watch the clouds go by and think, "what a fantastically unique view. How can anyone hate to fly?"
Then it's like the universe was having a go at me because instantaneously, everyone started clicking their seat belts, and the people standing were rushing back to their seats. I couldn't understand the Italian announcement but I hadn't felt any turbulence. Then the English translation came and in a frightfully hurried tone, the attendant told us that we would be experiencing turbulence, and to please fasten our seat belts.
Then the first jolt came. One of those dips that sends your stomach up into your ribs. I'm usually a very calm flier so I didn't worry at first because turbulence tends to pass quickly. But this ride was getting pretty shaky and to add to the eeriness of it, everyone had just become very quiet. The woman next to me had a small child and she pulled him in closer to her chest and started to rock him. Then the plane did something unusual, it sped up. I could tell because I was in the window seat and the clouds were now zooming by much faster than before. The engine got louder and this is when a bit of worry finally crept into my brain. My eyes met with the woman next to me and our expressions were the same, "they better know what they're doing and get this over with."
It was at this point, when the plane sped up and was jolting all about the sky like a jeep on African Safari, that the strangest thing happened: I started to (sort of) pray. Except I don't pray so, let's call it a meditation. I was sending my thoughts to the powers that be, I didn't really direct my thoughts toward any Lord or God. Just that undefined energy that seems to keep things going the way their meant to go. And I was hoping hard, that my plane landing in Parigi was a part of that big plan. I closed my eyes, pressed my fingertips together, and stared at a central speck in the darkness behind my eyelids. This "meditation" (if we're calling it that) played out like a discourse between myself, my inner voice, and this energy:
"This will pass soon."
"I realize I have no control over my destiny. I am a foolish human being for ever thinking so. All that I own are the choices I make."
Then I told myself, "well you better choose my words wisely then."
"Okay okay, remain calm and positive."
"This can't be it. I know this isn't it. I''ve visualized myself back in Paris, and I know I make it there."
"Don't be selfish, not now!"
I continued with the 'prayer,' "I realize that I am no more a special and unique snowflake than anyone else. We are all magnificent in our own ways. As are we small and inadequate. Everyone on this plane is a beautiful person with beautiful families waiting for them"
"Good start." I was sending all the positive energy I could muster into that recirculating air. This was actually working, i was starting to feel better, but the plane was still shaking a lot. Then it occurs to me that I've actually said before in conversation, how I believed it is probable, based on the amount of traveling that I do, that the way I'll go will be down with a plane.
"That was a stupid and morbid thing to say," I'm thinking now.
"No, you're going to die old, comfortable, safe, and surrounded by friends," I tell myself (this is the first time I've ever had this thought of dying old). I keep going.
"You've got nieces and nephews to watch grow up. They're going to do the most amazing things you can't even imagine how much love you will have for them, how proud of them you'll feel as they get older. You can't comprehend all that they will accomplish."
The plane kept speeding up and slowing down.
Then I thought, "you can't get too specific right now, there's not a lot of time to be dilly-dallying like this," so out of nowhere, I concentrated on just two words and I repeated them over and over at least 100 times.
"Love & gratitude, love & gratitude, love & gratitude...., love..... & gratitude....."
I sent this love out to all the people on the plane and all the people below us. I expressed gratitude for everything I had ever been given, tasted, and experienced.
"Love & gratitude, love & gratitude, love & gratitude," over and over again, until the turbulence finally.... stopped.
I have no idea how long this went on for. My guess is 20 minutes. I've never had this feeling on a plane before. I love to fly, and I know the risk of dying in a plane crash is far less likely thank dying in a car accident. I also believe that your time is your time. But I had a very real experience with fear, and my reaction to this fear, I feel, is worth investigating.
Needless to say, we landed in Paris, and everyone applauded vigorously once those wheels met that tarmac.
So last night, thinking of this moment again, and those two words. I decided to try this meditation again, but this time with much more peaceful, dare I say controlled, surroundings. I opened the window and sat on my bed and tried to be very still for at least a few minutes. And I repeated this again, "Love & Gratitude, love & gratitude," until I felt like I really meant it.
Dear universe, I really do believe in love, and I really am grateful for its existence, and for my own. Love is a good thing, and I have it within me. I believe this. Thanks, I love you. Yours Truly, Lindsey. Goodnight.
Then I thought I should use this silence and this stillness to do a little getting in-tune-with-yourself-exercise, and this question came to me immediately, "Why did you come here?"
"Good question, I get asked that a lot... Why am I in France? That's a tough one. The answer's quite complicated. Besides, doesn't the Universe know already?"
"Yes, but do you know?"
I do know, but that's a story for another entry.
Safe travels, all my love, and thanks to those special few who actually read these things.
-Lindsey
21 September 2010
Travail
Bonjour,
Nous somme Lundi, and today I began my new job as barista and waitress at a creperie downtown. Hooray for income. So far, it's wonderful and I'm excited that I'll have an outlet for all my French obsession, and an inlet to learn more of the language I am falling in love with.
Today at work, watching George make the daily quiche, I learned that quiche does not always need to be accompanied by a crust. However, I am quite certain that my favorite part of any pie-like food is, in fact, the crust. So I am going to make a quiche of my own; only with one very important, however intimidating, component not left out. I love quiche because it does not belong to any particular meal time. You can enjoy quiche from breakfast though dinner. It's full of protein and keeps for days in the fridge. You can always change your recipe by mixing up your ingredients so really there are endless variations of quiche; what a great dish to start with.
Pie Crust is simple. Do not be intimidated. I feared that I would ruin my quiche by attempting my own crust but it turns out, the crust is still my favorite, and now most proud accomplishment in the making of this dish. Once I master this pie crust recipe I think I'll be safe to move on to dessert pies and even croissants. I started the same way I start every dish, I looked online for recipes and then made my own consensus about what could be adjusted or left out and then I dove right in and dirtied up the kitchen.
Here's what you need (makes 1 pie):
Utinsils:
Rolling Pin (wooden is best)
Pie Pan (8in and deep)
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup water
1 dash o' salt (don't be shy)
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
First, I dice and smooth out the butter with the spatula that came with my rice maker. A meat pounder might also work. Use plastic wrap or wax paper and form a square of butter that's about 1/2 an inch thick. Put another piece of paper or wrap on top and toss it in the fridge while your dough sets. Measure out your water and then throw the salt in there. Add it to your flower and work into a ball as quickly as possible. If you don't work quickly you will have your dough in tiny little pieces all over the place and what you want is a uniform ball. Make sure your work space is covered with flour so nothing sticks. Set down your ball of dough and walk away for 40 minutes. Go put in a load of laundry or something.
Come back and your dough should be lookin' good. Now flatten it out. I try to make a diamond but this is impossible. So as close to a diamond shape as possible will do. Then get your square of butter out of the fridge and put it in the middle of your diamond.
Fold the corners over the butter like an envelope. you want to seal that butter in there so make sure it can't get out and tap on it a little.
Now you're going to roll and fold, making layers between the butter and the dough and THIS is what makes it flakey and impressive. Roll out your dough in one direction, like a rectangle and then fold it in thirds like a towel.
Do this 6 times total. The recipe I found told me to wait 20 minutes after the 2nd and 4th fold, so that's what I do. I feel like this is important bonding time between the butter and the dough. They need time to become friends. If your butter starts to escape from your dough while you are rolling, do not worry, just sprinkle with flour and continue. After your 6th fold, roll out into a circle to fit into your pie pan. Try to pinch the sides because they will sink down into your pan when it's baking if you don't. Now stick this guy in the freezer, pre-heat your oven to 400 and go change over your laundry.
10 minutes later, bake your crust for 10 minutes to allow it to set it's shape. When it's done, let it cool or stick it in the fridge until you're ready for your filling. I think the best idea is to refrigerate your crust until your absolutely ready to fill it and bake it and EAT it.
Now the easy part. Your crust looks amazing right and you could just eat it on it's own but try to hold out, it's only going to get better..
Here's what you'll need (1 Quiche Filling):
Ingredients:
4 eggs
1 cup creme fraiche (do not skimp and use half&half! the creme fraiche makes this what it is, trust me)
The rest of the ingredients are up to you
Today I'm making my quiche for a friend. She's very sad today because she's going through a break-up; So I call this my "Heart-Mending Quiche". It's full of flavor and comfort and it's sure to lift her spirits right up. Also it's classy enough to pair with wine, which, (who are we kidding?) will be included this evening.
I'm using 4 ounces of goat cheese, 1 onion (sliced, caramelized), 1 sweet potato (thinly sliced and sauteed), and 1 bunch of spinach (sauteed). You only need enough of each ingredient to layer in. I start with the spinach and onions, then potato, then cheese.
Now pour over your egg mixture, adding any herbs you like. I'm including some nutmeg this time, because it's almost fall and I like nutmeg. Now bake for 30-35 minutes at 400 and when the top starts to brown, your job is done.
I hope these pictures are helpful. I'm really excited to share all these recipes and French-style foods. I'm starting a list of dishes to teach myself and tackle. This weekend I decided to add Pain au Chocolat and Coconut Macaroons to my list so look for those coming soon. I love the fall season and look forward to using a lot of pumpkin and squash. Also, I can't wait to see what more inspirations I find at my new job. I'm really a lot happier to be back in the states than I had anticipated. But most of all, I'm happy to be back in the kitchen.
À bientôt et bon apetit!
This recipe was inspired by information found on the following websites: French Food and Cook & Easy French Food.
15 December 2009
Le mot du jour: une banque
The word of the day is: bank
Today I marked a milestone in preparing for my trip. I opened a savings account on October1, titled it 'Europe Save,' and today my efforts and man heures have added up to something I can smile about, because today, I passed the four digit mark. My goal was to put away $300/mo and it hasn't been easy but I'm not afraid to say that I'm pretty damn proud of myself, considering I haven't had savings like that in over 2 years. I realize as far as savings go, I realize it's a meek competitor, but it's my little French nest egg and I plan on keeping it très très warm, until June.
Today I marked a milestone in preparing for my trip. I opened a savings account on October1, titled it 'Europe Save,' and today my efforts and man heures have added up to something I can smile about, because today, I passed the four digit mark. My goal was to put away $300/mo and it hasn't been easy but I'm not afraid to say that I'm pretty damn proud of myself, considering I haven't had savings like that in over 2 years. I realize as far as savings go, I realize it's a meek competitor, but it's my little French nest egg and I plan on keeping it très très warm, until June.
12 December 2009
Bonjour!
Tonight I'm baking 200 cupcakes for a Christmas party that my mother is hosting tomorrow. My folks are away at a cocktail party down the street, so I decided to choose and OnDemand movie. It only seemed fitting to watch the newly released Julie & Julia, the story of a woman who spends a year blogging her way through every recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. As someone who loves to cook, I enjoyed the movie, but as a writer, I was motivated to pick up a blog of my own. Not about cooking, but about my growing adoration of France.
On September 22, after a month of perpetual, personal melt downs, I impulsively turned in every last one of my frequent flyer miles for a round trip ticket to France. The point being that I needed something to work for, something to look forward to. Feeling less than pleased with my being in San Diego, I figured that by setting an actual date of departure, I could get through these nine months a little easier.
Thinking about France takes up a lot of my time. There are two main projects I'm working on to prepare for the trip in June 2010. The first being the French language. It's quite an undertaking, but with the help of the Rosetta Stone program and French film, song, and literature, I think I'm getting off to a good start. The second major effort is choosing my destinations and convincing friends to "meet me over there".
The exact length of my trip is undetermined as my tickest are changeable at any time. I want to play it by ear. I want to enjoy it as long as I see fit, finances permitting of course.
The intention of this blog is to document my preparations and eventually the trip itself. Let it be known that before September 22nd, the French I knew did not extend beyond "bonjour, au revoir, and merci". I'll be sharing my expanding French vocabulary as well as all the great things I'm learning about the French culture and I hope that my writings convey to you, whoever might read this, how fascinating a culture it is.
Bienvenue à mon blog
until next time,
Lindsey
On September 22, after a month of perpetual, personal melt downs, I impulsively turned in every last one of my frequent flyer miles for a round trip ticket to France. The point being that I needed something to work for, something to look forward to. Feeling less than pleased with my being in San Diego, I figured that by setting an actual date of departure, I could get through these nine months a little easier.
Thinking about France takes up a lot of my time. There are two main projects I'm working on to prepare for the trip in June 2010. The first being the French language. It's quite an undertaking, but with the help of the Rosetta Stone program and French film, song, and literature, I think I'm getting off to a good start. The second major effort is choosing my destinations and convincing friends to "meet me over there".
The exact length of my trip is undetermined as my tickest are changeable at any time. I want to play it by ear. I want to enjoy it as long as I see fit, finances permitting of course.
The intention of this blog is to document my preparations and eventually the trip itself. Let it be known that before September 22nd, the French I knew did not extend beyond "bonjour, au revoir, and merci". I'll be sharing my expanding French vocabulary as well as all the great things I'm learning about the French culture and I hope that my writings convey to you, whoever might read this, how fascinating a culture it is.
Bienvenue à mon blog
until next time,
Lindsey
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