so long, sweet summer.

Bed is a wonderful place; it really is. That's the first thing that comes to mind as I crawl beneath the dappled, motley pattern of my patchwork quilt. What a wonderful day. Today was (is, at least for the next two hours) Labor Day, marking the unofficial end of summer. Tomorrow I begin fall term at Penn, what is sure to be an adventurous and frenzied semester. I have always been quite sedulous, running around all day, sometimes aimless and frantic like a chicken with her head cut off, but this is the first time that I am actually worried about whether or not I am capable of all that I have to do. To be honest, I hit quite a low point the last week, overwhelmed with fear that I am neither prepared nor competent enough to handle the nonstop workload that is to come in the next few days and continue on 'til Christmas. I am feeling much better today. That isn't to say I have no more doubts or worries, but after what was a very refreshing, enlightening weekend, I feel quite optimistic and encouraged. My wonderful family came to visit me in Narberth for the holiday, and their support and smiles were exactly the remedy I needed to cure me of my pessimism. Really, my mum would be disappointed if she knew how negative and defeated I have felt over the past few weeks. But, chin up! Tomorrow marks the (unofficial) beginning of a new season, a new term, and an ever-evolving, ever-blossoming new me. I am so thankful to have the family that I have, who pick me up when I am down, and offer me the (million) chances that I need to try again (and again and again) before I get it right. This restless and thirsting soul is ready for some adventure and originality. Who's with me?

the lonely traveler.

I am sitting on the balcony of my friend's third story apartment in the 12th Arrondissement, Paris. Glass of wine in hand, I dangle my toes through the cast iron railing as a soft summer breeze ripples through the few loose strands of hair around my face escaping from my mussy, rumpled bun. All is quiet in the world, save the gentle whir of the zephyr and the occasional discordant siren of a passing ambulance. The wine is cool and soothing on my tongue and lips, some pleasant blend from a box we bought in the shop down the street. These are the moments I live for. Escaping from the chaos that is graduate school, I have fled to France for the next two weeks in some desperate attempt to recompose myself before fall term begins. I am despairingly seeking solace, freedom, passion, excitement, in a world which seemingly only possesses intolerance and monotony. How I long for serenity, companionship, respite from this restlessness that haunts me without end. Haha, I am one silly little girl. If only I had more than words to express myself; if only you could see the tempest that ravages my insides. Here I am: in one of my favorite cities in the world, experiencing the most beautiful weather, sumptuous food, luscious wine, surrounded by romance and history and loveliness... and yet... my heart aches. I feel alive, through and through, but why is this not enough? I smile at life, revel in the warm kiss of sunshine on my skin, the taste of blueberries and crème brûlée, the laughter of children and close friends and family. I see God and His magnificence all around me... and still. I am lonely. I am restive. Does anyone else feel this? Any kindred spirits out there to put my thoughts at ease? The clock ticks past four A.M. and I do not feel the slightest bit of sleep entering my eyes or my mind. I am quite awake and quite uneasy. I am thinking of you (yes, you) and everything we once had, all those kisses and smiles that come to me in my dreams. I wish you existed. I wish I could feel you, taste you, smell you, right here and now...
What I do smell, is the fresh, nipping air of Paris, and it is lovely, dear, just lovely. But Paris, even the most exotic of places, is New Jersey, is nothing, compared to how I feel when I close my eyes and am in your hands, in your heart...

Sigh. Oh bother. I am a mess, an honest mess :)
Sorry for all the complaining. My restless soul gets carried away sometimes. Tomorrow I will wake up and it will be a new day in Paris. The sun will shine and the men will say "bonjour, belle" and I will have a glorious morning, noon and night. But tonight, just for tonight, I am quite alone. Staring at the empty streets of Reuilly, Helios already beginning to creep up on the horizon, I am alone and thinking of you. I long for you and your love to carry me away. Will you ever come?

we all have a weakness.

So, this weekend my sister Sara came to visit me at my humble home in good old Narberth. She arrived on Thursday night with my dad and the little guy (my adorable youngest brother, James) for some late night Quizzo (a local trivia game held at many Philly venues) and some tasty veggie burgers... we tied for first and lost in sudden-death overtime, in case you were wondering.

We spent a lovely Saturday downtown, indulging in the many sights and sounds (and tastes!) that Philadelphia has to offer. The day kicked off with a trip to the Museum of Art, which is always quite a treat. I love the Philly art museum. It's no Louvre, but I find the collection rather impressive and well-rounded... After the museum we strolled around and had a picnic lunch in Rittenhouse Square. It was bustling with life: sunbathers, musicians, children, pups. We had a nice time people-watching, after which we perused the cafes of South Street and headed to Baltimore Avenue for some amazing Indian food. I can't tell you how much I adore ethnic cuisine, or how good the Bhaintan Bhakra tasted in my mouth. Delicious.

The day ended with an amazing Incubus show at Festival Pier on Penn's Landing. Really, words cannot describe how happy I was to be there. Aside from a few assholes (sorry, it's true) in the crowd, the show was perfect. The band played awesome and the set list was great, but the highlight of my evening was a perfect view of the incredibly talented, incredibly sexy Mr. Brandon Boyd. His performance was stellar, and I can't help but imagine that he was singing directly at me (hey, a girl can dream). Tall, painfully handsome, intelligent, creative, talented, artistic, humanitarian... where do I find you?

July, July!

From one commonwealth to another...

So, I am just finishing out my first month as a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania. How can I even begin to explain the myriad of emotions and thoughts whirring through my brain? After almost a year of living under the rooves of (several) others, I am finally settled into my own place (well, almost) once more. I am living with my cousin, Robert, in a cute little apartment in the quaint Main Line town of Narberth. I couldn't be happier with our humble home or our wonderful new neighborhood... School, on the other hand, is a bit more frustrating. I feel incredibly blessed to be living out my dream and attending any Ivy League university for my graduate studies, but the work and stress loads are quite overwhelming. I am currently taking three courses, which generally revolve around educational theory, and I am an unpaid intern at a local inner-city youth program. I love my "job," which involves working with the Urban Nutrition Initiative to educate students about nutrition and food production and distribution. I get to work in a garden (if you know me, then you know this is perfect for me), soak up the sun and interact with some really interesting kids. I love learning and I love the class environment, but the workload for this program is off the charts!! I have never been so overwhelmed in my life!! Wait...

Well, what can I say? I asked for this, right? Right. So, I am doing my best to own this new lifestyle. Insomniac Ivy League grad student meets starving artist meets midnight blogger meets overachieving, type-A, coffee-drinking, yoga-practicing, procrastinating, high-strung, health nut???? Done. One month down, eleven more to go. Bring it on, world.  I'm ready.

the countdown.

I just thought I would inform you, loyal reader, that my birthday is exactly one month from this very day. I will be turning 24, finishing out the last year of my first quarter-century. I am quite on the fence about all of it. I am agog over the idea of embarking on a fresh, new year of life, but also a bit disappointed. I suppose I had always assumed I would have accomplished so much more by age 24 and feel I have let myself down. But that's what this site is all about, no? New beginnings, conquering the world... Alright, well, bring it on, 24!

Home, home again.

So, I have been home (the real home, my place of birth) for about a month now. It is a bit surreal, I must say. I haven't really been home for a significant period of time since I left for college 6 years ago. I don't really feel like I belong here, especially since my mum no longer is here to make this little green house a home. I know that I belong in New England, where my heart lies, but that gratification will be delayed for another year.
"Home," as I suppose it must be called, is a little village nestled in the Hudson Valley. It would really be a nice little place to live if it weren't for the ignorance, racism and alcoholism that run rampant in its streets. Greenery is abound and I have always been within walking distance to a state park - a nice escape from the concrete slabs of New Jersey that lie only a few miles south. The sweet perfume of honeysuckles and summer rain fills the air and I find myself peculiarly happy and hopeful, especially driving around with the windows down and radio on.
In a few short weeks I will be settled in my little apartment outside Philadelphia, preparing for the wisdom, experience and adventure that I am about to take on. For now, I am enjoying the company of my family, particularly my sisters, whose presence is comfort to my soul. I can't begin to express my excitement over the happenings to come or how everything seems to be falling into place right now. This ingénue is ready to take on the world!