Friday, July 22, 2011

Blatant steal, the heat made me do it.

Re-posting from my friend Lauren's blog:

Yep that's us DC-ites, the hottest spot in the United States. Hey, THAT must be why the debt ceiling debate continues- NOBODY on the Hill can write a coherent compromise with sweat pouring into their eyes!

When I saw this, my eyes went straight to Vegas, because whenever the weather sucks here, I like to comfort myself by remembering that at least I'm not stuck in that perma-oven... oh wait. 75 DEGREES IN VEGAS!?!?!




Pool this afternoon, mais oui.

You should follow my friend Lauren and her other blog, I'm kind of obsessed with it. She has impeccable taste in everything I care most about: baked goods, romantic/funny videos, girly accessories, traveling to GOOD places, etc.

In other news, my obsession with Twitch from So You Think You Can Dance made me do something last night I swore I would never do: sign up for Twitter. His "LiveTweet" session with Lauren Froderman was indeed worth it! After, I realized that since I crossed over the dark side into the Twittersphere, I might as well follow all the writers and museums whose Twitter feeds I've been Googling for the last 6 months anyways. Chuck Klosterman! The Whale at the Natural History Museum! Niall Ferguson! (His take-down of Mika from Morning Joe on MSNBC is the one video I turn to for solace when the Obama administration and Congress make me want to bang my head against the Washington Monument) If you are a Tweeter, follow me @SerendipLC. I can't guarantee I will tweet about anything other than the idiosyncrasies of my little life, but isn't that the whole point?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

HP fans- It's worth the watch.

Got a lil teary eyed too, it's ok:


Almost blew my month's utilities on
these bad boys. Luckily I had a dinner
to run away to.
I have been really, REALLY antsy lately. Antsy for change, antsy for a challenge, antsy to get up and leave, to kiss someone, to buy big ticket items, to travel, to graduate, etc! It's just that season. My prayers lately have been almost frenetic; Heavenly Father has been getting an earful, lemme tell ya. "What do you think of me having a crush on _____? What should I work on right now? What comes next? How does a curatorial assistant job in California sound to you? Can you set that up? Am I doing enough in DC or do you want me to delve further? Are you still ok with me taking a year to finish this blasted degree? Will you bless me with charity? How am I doing? What else you got for me??"

Have you ever been in a similar state of mind? It might be a singles thing. Friends move in and out of my city and my life at record pace, literally: in my 320 member ward, there is usually a hundred person turnover each year. 100 out, 100 in. Lots of goodbye-I'll-never-forget-you's, followed by plenty of Nice-to-meet-you-what's-your-story's. I navigate never-ending rounds of engagements, grad school acceptances, sicknesses, birthdays, break-ups, promotions, and a million other occasions jostling the journeys of my friends at all times. Right about now is when I usually change jobs myself, or start a new semester, or move or do something crazy (kissing a guy in front of his whole football team last year, anybody??). I got absolutely NOTHING this July. I think that's the biggest thing that's got me on edge. At least it's summer and I can jet off to New York or the watering hole or a national festival and blow off some steam when necessary.

So what do you do with this mood? Certainly not make big decisions, but definitely start researching potentials. And go running a LOT. And stay away from the Nordstrom shoe rack.

This mood has caused me to revamp my habits, to create a better here and now. I have taken a hard look at my emotional and physical health the last month, with some interesting findings. You may have noticed some additions to my blogroll: I've started following a few health and fitness blogs for motivation and I have been working on building a better me. I know I feel better and have better organization and motivation when I go to sleep early--like WAY early, before 10-- and wake up early. I know I've got a massive sweet tooth and I am learning, SLOWLY, to keep it under control (Thank heavens for summer produce! Blueberries, sweet corn, and bell peppers, you are the loves of my life!) I find I am still, as always, rather reserved in large social settings, but I love finding people with big stories to listen to, and such people, and my besties out here, enrich my life and I am so thankful for them.

I was telling a good friend tonight that one of the greatest things DC has taught me is how to identify and maintain my own personal work-life balance. I know how much stress I can take without turning into a sad/cranky zombie. I know that if I am feeling a little depressed, it takes me around 4 days to get out of it, and that's ok, I WILL get out of it. I just have to cut back on a few extracurriculars (except service!) and watch the sugar intake. I don't feel the need to rush myself out of lulls anymore, and that in and of itself creates LESS lulls. I know I am a natural planner, and as I take a leading role in organizing my weekends with friends, I have a funner time (who wouldn't, with the gems I associate with out here, really?)

Is anyone still listening to my ramblings? The point is, I'm doing it. Living life, and living it as large as such a barely-anybody-mid-20s-girl can. I'm not good at everything, and sometimes it drives me NUTS that I'm in such a gypsy state of mind, but I'm working it out. Merci, mon pere celeste.

Monday, July 11, 2011

[No Title]

Into Haiku now.
This blog's too narcissistic.

Georges Seurat, father of pointillism, Le Cirque 1891

Paul Cezanne, father of modern art depending on who you ask,  Le golfe de Marseille vu de L'Estaque, 1878-9

Henri Matisse, father of fauvism, Luxe, Calme et Volupt√©, 1904

Paul Gauguin, father of a load of illegitimate children, such a pig, but a big name in art history. A Belle Angele, 1889

Vincent van Gogh, father of Expressionism and  1,000,000,000  Starry Night copies by first graders, including myself back in the day.  L'√©glise d'Auvers-sur-Oise, vue du chevet, 1890

All pictures from the 
Musee d'Orsay collection.
I've seen them live! Meep.

Monday, July 4, 2011

A fine DC evening

Tonight is the Third of July. The city's excitement for tomorrow's celebration is palpable, has been since Friday. Oh, wait, that's the coma-inducing humidity. Or maybe it's both.

Today I spent the whole morning in bed enjoying the AC and pounding down 200 pages of Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol (that's right, I broke the snobbish Washingtonian code of not acknowledging that book's existence. I make up for it by noting with distaste its manifold mistakes. I tell ya, I laughed right out loud when they started talking about the CIA "descending" into the King Street Metro... which is in fact above ground. And how about when the characters gasp in awe at Robert Langdon's revelation that the painting on the Capitol Rotunda is called "The Apotheosis of Washington"? Every intern and tourist in the WORLD could tell you that!)

I went to church today, listened to a lot of America-monies, came home, bolted down a wee bit of food, then looked outside my window with my impatient roommate as the thunder BOOMED and the rain came down in a sudden, swift sheet. It lasted about 25 minutes... right into 6:30, when we were supposed to be leaving. I donned my rainboots and rainjacket, enlisted the aid of a big umbrella and blankie, and together Kelly and I set off into the ocean that was 21st Street to meet up with our ward friends. Together we had all planned to drive into the city and find a good spot on the West Lawn of the Capitol in order to watch the dress rehearsal of tomorrow's grand Fourth of July concert. The dress rehersal is a Washington secret event that you must attend at least once to be a native. You go sit amidst a haughty upperclass picnicking crowd, watch Josh Groban or Natasha Bedingfield squint out at some unknown director behind the stagelights who asks them to "Stand here, look there, now sing it again." You have a great time and realize how awesome (and awesomely entertaining) your nation is.

Unfortunately, the rainstorms that preceeded our drive today also wreaked havoc on the Hill. We drove by crowds streaming AWAY from the Mall (bad sign), then we drove by a massive tree branch half on top of a misfigured red Yaris, half in the right lane of Independence Ave. (Another bad sign).

Undeterred, perhaps emboldened by the discovery of an impossibly good parking spot right next to the Library of Congress, we unloaded our gear and marched down towards the Hill on the offchance that something would change. Shepharded down to the lawn by cool and detatched Capitol police, we arrived alongside the stage to see the reason so many people had been leaving: part of the outdoor stage had collapsed in the storm and the show had indeed been cancelled. Other parts of the lawn also showed recent scars. We decided to make merry in the cool evening air on the lawn next to the Botanical Garden, a ways off from the stage. We sat across from a crumpled metal detector station (the winds had tipped over some HUGE concrete pylons! What a storm!) Police stood, bored, everywhere.

We played games we learned from EFY, nibbled snickerdoodles, and amused the tourists (I think there were 20 of us?). We listened as they fired canons (at least the military is undeterred by storms), we watched a glorious sunset, and we packed up as low clouds rolled in with accompanying thunder, forty-five minutes after we had settled down. As we departed, Josh Groban (or perhaps a recording of Josh Groban) began to sing, filling the entire top half of the mall with his glorious, mellifluous sound.

I came home to even MORE friends who were sitting around an open ice cream carton. We discussed timely events such as the last SYTYCD episode and the act of hugging. Tomorrow I'm renting a bike, going to breakfast and a parade and probably much more. It'll be great. But tonight... tonight was grand. What a good day to be here, in this beautiful spot of land. Today I remembered I live in the heart of my nation.