Happy Birthday to Me!

A few days early, but I don't know if I'll have internet access on September 1st. I'm 16!! The big year, the year when everything is supposed to happen! And look where I am already - talk about things happening! This is the cameo my mom got for me in Greece over four years ago to give to me on my 16th birthday... immortalized by Mr. Schroeter reading the essay I wrote about it to the English class... I have to reread the essay to see how bad or good it is, but if it's okay, I'll e-mail a copy to anyone who wants to read it (write requests here. No obligation, I assure you).

And now, I return to.... rereading the Harry Potter series before I leave!! I've only just started Book 5, and am not exactly optimistic about finishing the series by tomorrow afternoon; wish me luck on that...

Love, your favorite 16-year-old Italian-to-be,

Holly

The unsurpassed greatness of Spamalot

Monday... one more day...

Yesterday I went to see Spamalot, which is, quite simply, AMAZING. Though the trip there on the NY subways (which has a complicated system that apparently becomes very straightforward when you have lived in New York long enough to be able to laugh at newcomers' attempts to get places on the subway) was quite trying, the musical was a great reward. The songs are every bit as spectacular as I hoped, and it was great to finally see the scenes that link the songs. It was all I could do to keep from singing along... And can we talk about how great the cast is? Although unfortunately Hank Azaria is not longer playing Lancelot (and the newcomer hasn't got quite the wonderful voice) most of the cast is from the original show, and is spectacular. The most prominent cast member, playing King Arthur, is none other than Tim Curry. I love Tim Curry!!! It was completely amazing, sitting in the audience and seeing him on stage, live, the real Tim Curry...

Since then, however, I have done nothing short of eat and sleep. Oh, except for battle the damn internet connection, which HATES ME. For some reason I can't send e-mails via my mail application, but only through the internet. I only accepted that after spending forever trying to send the same e-mail over and over and over and over.... and over.... AAAAAH!!! Get me out of this hotel!!!!

So anyway, that's my exciting life... So for now, hello from New York!

Holly

Luggage is evil

No, seriously. I have a combined luggage weight of about 100 pounds (I am NOT an ant, dammit! I cannot carry my own weight!) - a messenger bag (containing a laptop, a big jar of jam intended to be a gift, though I may crack and eat if myself since it weighs so damn much, and a 35mm camera, among many other things) over my shoulder, and two giant bags, each 45 pounds, that I drag along behind me. I constantly praise the brilliant person who first put wheels on luggage. Now we just need luggage with motors... But gosh, I never realized how much walking was involved in airports. Somehow the moving walk ways and escalators are much farther apart when you're dragging 100 pounds with you...

But I don't mean to complain - at last I'm at the hotel, which (thankfully!!) has internet, my luggage is strewn across my bed to be repacked, and I'm thinking back on the day. I love and I hate flying. I love looking down at the ground, I love turbulence as long as it's not too strong, and - strangely - I love the food. At the same time, as soon as the plane takes off my mind starts to tick off all the plane crashes I've read about in the last year, and when turbulence throws the plane around I panic, even while the feeling of weightlessness that comes with a drop is thrilling. However this was a wonderful flight. There was just enough turbulence to be exciting, but none of it was very strong, and the view of the ground was spectacular across the whole country. I was glued to the window, and even though I'd brought a book, it lay forgotten. Flying to New York is a really big step - it means leaving behind my friends, my pets, everyone and everything, even though I'm not yet leaving for Italy. To watch the country go by far below the plane was calming, just being certain of where we were and that we were going in the right direction...

Coming to New York is like being caught between two worlds - the first world is one that I know, it's Pasadena, my friends, and everything in my life up till now; the second world is one that I can't even picture, and since I can't imagine it, I feel like I'm falling into a giant blank, which is pretty nerve-wracking. I know, though, why I'm so miserable leaving my first world behind (other than the fact that everyone I know is basically AWESOME, and I love you, and I miss you!); it's because I don't know how wonderful my new world is going to be, so I feel like I'm leaving behind everyone I know and love for.... nothing. But I predict that once I make it to Italy, once I realize how wonderful it is, everything will be worth it.

P.S.: Note to self: do not, under any circumstances, drink a large Chai Tea Latte before a 5-hour flight.

The farther one travels, the less one really knows

I've always disagreed with that song, even if it is by George Harrison. Of course, I am about to travel half way around the world for a year, so by his definition, I'm definitely an ignoramus.

You know how in corny movies someone moves away from their hometown, coming back years later only to find the answers to life hidden there in his or her tumultuous past? I think that must be what George is talking about, but quite frankly, I usually laugh at those movies...

However (and it hurts me to admit this), it may have taken this impending year abroad to make me realize that I really love Pasadena. Driving home last night, I could see all the lights of the city spread out below me, and, with the corny sentimentality that comes with goodbyes, I thought "gee, this is really a wonderful place." Of course, at night time, the brown-gray air has lifted off of the city, and everything seems so much cleaner and more lovable. Even by the polluted light of day, though, this city isn't so bad.

Another thing I've come to appreciate about Pasadena is that it's so big. This I realized when my mom and I went camping (which, by the way, was quite exciting, including bears, fires, floods, and plague). The towns we drove through got progressively smaller - Bishop has 4,000 people; Lee Vining has 400 (no, I didn't forget a zero); and, this one is embarrassing to even think about, Bridgeport has the quite impressive count of 100. By the time we got home, I was ready to kiss the ground. I don't know how many people there are in the Los Angeles area, but Pasadena alone has got 30 times the population of Bishop, at 120,000.

Quite frankly, though, either George didn't really know what he was talking about, or it's a load of psychological hoohah.

Weirdos, Aisle 5

The credit for my witty title goes to the lovely Elise, who said just that of a photo of us.

Anyway, movies are up, they're on my .Mac site. Be grateful, I've stayed up till 1 getting them uploaded since I hadn't updated in like 2 months.

Okay, seriously now, BEDTIME.

The brain cannot function on 45 minutes of sleep

My last movie night before I leave! Next Saturday I'll be camping in the Sierras, the Saturday after that is my going-away party, and then the Saturday after that I leave for New York! No more MPMs for me for 9 long months! Of course spending that time in Italy studying the classics is worth the sacrifice, but still... I'll miss my friends! I don't know, though, if this last MPM could have been more wonderful or memorable (wink, wink). A spectacular last movie night!

We watched four movies (not a lot for us!): the two more memorable ones were Straight Jacket and The Frisco Kid. The former is a brilliant satire about a gay actor in the '50s. It was refreshing to watch, because with all this Republican anti-gay crap these days, it's nice to know that not only are people speaking out for gay rights, but there are movies mocking such intolerance. It also makes fun of the Communist scare and of the movie biz. In general satires are great, this one especially so.

The latter was a pretty bad movie. It was on at about 3:00, and it's one of those movies where it's infinitely clear why they play it in the wee hours when most sane people will be asleep. However even as you have that thought it's impossible to turn the movie off for several reasons. One, it's 3:00, and that's simply no time to go to sleep! A movie, no matter how bad, will help keep you awake. Two, by 3:00 in the morning, when you've just gotten out of the pool and you've had a bag and a half of tootsie rolls, everything is a lot funnier than usual. Even the worst of movies is quality cinema, and good for a hell of a lot of great laughs. And three, this movie has both Han (Harrison Ford - droooool) and Gene Wilder (you can't really drool for Gene Wilder, but still.... basically, he's awesome). The film is a "wild west" comedy set in the 1800s, which automatically makes it bad. Only a brilliant script could save it at this point, and I'm sorry to say, a brilliant script was not in the cards for this film. Gene Wilder plays a rabbi who has come to America from Poland and must venture to San Francisco (which he knows is somewhere "near New York") where he will be married. However he is robbed at the start of the movie and has to make his way across the country penniless and hopelessly lost. Eventually he encounters a bank robber (sexy Han!) who decides to help him on his way to California. The two go on to have great adventures and form a great friendship so that whenever they are almost parted they manage to stay together through all odds. Quite frankly, I have to say that this is the worst movie I've ever seen. Sorry, Gene and Han.

The Frisco Kid ended at 5:30, but I didn't go to sleep till about 7:30, and then only during the parts of Pirates of the Caribbean that didn't have Johnny Depp. When I got home I immediately crashed, and when my mom woke me up it almost 7:00. Monday already, the day we're leaving on our camping trip! I got up, went through my morning routine, got packed, and was ready to go when I realized that even as the morning grew later, it was getting darker and cooler outside. Perplexed, I went outside to look for the sun (I really did - I though maybe we were having highly irregular weather - a thunderstorm, perhaps? Ah, we would not be so lucky). No clouds, but a lovely sky full of stars greeted me. I had fully believed that I'd slept for about 18 hours and that it was Monday morning. I had been a bit surprised that my mom would wake me up at 6:45 in the morning, but I figured we still had a lot of packing to do and that she needed my help. I just hope I didn't say too many stupid things that would only make sense if it really were tomorrow morning...

All this talk about sleep is wearing me out, so I'd best hit the sack (yet again). Ta,

Holly