Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Winter, Or, Falling In Love With Strangers On The Bus

So it's well and truly winter now, and that means taking the bus to school more often. And that means that I fall in love pretty frequently. This is something that happens to me on the way to school, never on the way home. It only lasts for the duration of the bus ride. Once I get off, the feeling fades quickly, and is nearly always gone by the time I reach my office. I do not remember my past bus loves. I couldn't describe a single person that I have fallen in love with on the bus (except for the one who looked kind of like Niklas Hjalmarsson, but I don't actually remember his face, just that he looked like a Blackhawks defenseman).  I never fall in love with the same person (I don't think - like I said, I don't remember them), and I never speak, flirt, or even make eye contact with them. This is a totally one sided affair. But lest you think that what I am describing is merely lust, or an appreciation for a handsome face, let me assure you you are wrong. This is true love. For the entire ten minute bus ride, I remain convinced that this is the person with whom I am fated to spend the rest of my life. We will get married and have children and sit in rocking chairs on the porch when we are old. Why does this happen? Does winter arouse some deep seated nesting instinctin me? Am I secretly terribly lonely? Is one of these boys my actual true love? Why does it only happen in the morning? In the morning I am generally less sociable, less interested in people, less open to interpersonal connections. But I never fall in love on the way home. 

I have the answers to none of these questions, but this whole description reminds me of this, which is the same but opposite:

I love this watercolor by Carmel Seymour. It is called "I sometimes think strangers are in love with me". Isn't it beautiful? In looking for a pic of this to post I found Carmel Seymour's blog and looked at a bunch of her other work. Guys, it is truly delightful! Here, this one is called "Science documentaries taught me how to love". I want to be friends with this lady. You can check out her blog too, right here.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Blackhawks Game!!!

Definitely spent more on beer than I did on the game ticket. Blackhawks won 4-3 after a great game involving a good fight, a contested goal, lots of scoring...totally awesome.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

As Promised: Gosford Park, Reasons To Watch

Reasons You Should Watch Gosford Park

1. Clever Agatha Christie style English Country House Murder except that the servants get equal play. In Dame Agatha's books the servants are all usually eliminated from suspicion immediately as they were all together in the servant's hall or something; then they can be ignored. Once in a while the butler turns out to be someone's long lost secret twin brother just pretending to be a butler or something or a chambermaid unknowingly holds an important piece of evidence, but the murderer is always a toff. In Gosford Park, the servants are half the story, and not a separate half either. It's an incredibly interesting and revealing portrait of how intertwined these two seemingly separate social classes of people could be: how much power the upper classes held over their servants, and how that could be abused terribly, to be sure, but also some of the more complex facets of that relationship - power and loyalty and intrigue and sex and gossip and even affection.
2. Clive Owen = yummy. Well I did say.
3. Maggie Smith is just so deliciously bitchy I cannot stand it.
4. Kirsten Scott Thomas has the most incredible poise. Maybe she is an ice queen, but I find that I am all admiration.
5. Everyone smokes all the time and it is so glamorous, all languid and haughty and elegant with the lipstick and the nails and the smoke curling up so artistically. I wish so much that I smoked and that it looked like that. And I guess that it didn't give you cancer.
5. Omg did I say, English country house in 1932. With the gardens and the shooting and the dogs and the horses and the drawing rooms and the dressing for dinner.
6. 1932 fashion.
7. I feel like I have to be clear: Clive Owen: dark, brooding, mysterious.
8. Stephen Fry smokes a pipe and bumbles.
9. Jeremy Northam sings and plays the piano.
10. In an English country house in 1932 while wearing a dinner jacket.
11. Ok, so it's JUST POSSIBLE that no one else is quite as obessessed with this time period as I am. And maybe it's a little disturbing that I am so fascinated by a way of life that was, let's face it, characterized by a very particular brand of patronizing, passive aggressive, narrow minded, cruel, class obsessed, xenophobic snobbery. But, damn, they carried it off with such STYLE.

There you go. And look, only TWO points were Clive Owen related.

This morning I found a cockroach in my pants and that is all I have to say about that. This weekend: more brunch!

Monday, January 2, 2012

Happy New Year!

Back to Chicago! Christmas with the fam in Charleston was lovely, as was vacation in Atlanta, but the more time I spend in Chicago the more it feels weird to be in places without winter. It was nice to come back to the cold and the snow and my cab driver who had this (among many, many other things) to say:
"Mayor Daly, I love that guy! He's a crook, but I still love him." Oh yes it is good to be back in Chicago.

What were the highlights of 2011? I'm not sure. Throwing a super awesome fancy cocktail party? Finally getting an iphone? Becoming an official PhD candidate? Those were all pretty exciting. The time we accidentally attended a gang wake was also pretty memorable.

Do you make New Year's resolutions? I don't usually, but this year I did and it is the following: more brunch! There has not been enough brunch in my life, and I am determined to have more. Brunch at fancy brunch restaurants, brunch with bottomless mimosas, brunch parties at my house. And lots of bloody marys. Yummm.

Now that the madness of proposing, post-proposal lethargy, and holiday party round are all over, I also plan to post more on this blog. That's not an official resolution, because that type of resolution only sets you up for failure. But to give myself a little accountability, I'm going to promise you right now that the next post is going to be a list of reasons why you must, must, must watch Gosford Park. (Spoiler: the hotness of Clive Owen is only a few of the reasons. Three, at most.)