Je Parle Francais? Je ne pense pas

For the past two days, I have been preparing for a French Oral which I've known would go horrendously. As always, my expectations were correct. I managed to talk as though I was in m y first year of French, even though this is my sixth, and totter on my ruffled pumps like an second grader waiting to go to the bathroom. Of course, none of my friends would admit that it was an absolute disaster. 

"It was good!" Kieu said.  "It seemed like you knew what you were talking about."

Lies, all lies.

I remember when I used to love French, the feel of the syllables rolling off of my tongue, the sound of it in a conversation, the culture of France and most importantly, the fashion. I always wanted to visit France but after having Mme Dimova, I feel like dying in the Arctic rather than visiting that country.

To cheer myself up and raise my already misery drenched holidays spirits,  I'm reminding myself why  I love France, at least the country and not the language. 

1. The Eiffel Tower

2. Brie Cheese, yummy on little toasted crackers...well pretty much yummy on anything

3. Chanel

And thats about it.

On the brighter side, I am going to see the Nutcracker the 23rd with good ole mumsie. At least by then, french will be over. 

President Obama

At 12:36 this morning, my mother burst into my room and said to me excitedly, "Obama is president!". Honestly, I gave her the thumbs up and fell back asleep. However, upon driving to school and listening to the exclamations on the radio, the reality of the situation truly hit me. Not only has a Democrat been elected president after eight years of a Republican, but he's, as bad as this may sound, a black man. To think that America has come so far in the past century as to elect someone of a different ethnicity President is astounding, and as Obama said in his victory speech, proof that change, and all change, is possible. It is a signification that ignorance and prejudice are slowly receding back into the abyss in which they belong and people, all people, are looking at the content of a person's character, rather than the outward things we are so used to judging others upon. 

History was made today. Here's to the new president.

On another note, I'm completely in love with Stylista, a new show on the CW airing after America's Next Top Model.

I leave for Hampshire College Friday morning for Diversity Weekend! And I still need to pick out outfits!

DIY Miu Miu Cardigan

Here's my new project that I want to complete within the next two weeks. Its the Miu Miu bow belt cardigan! Cute and chic and versatile. I can throw it on over anything and it looks better than my white (but now sort of gray) cardigan which dirties when I touch it. 

It looks as though all I'll need is a gray (or whatever color cardigan), some ribbon, and a sewing machine. I'll post pictures once I've completed the project!

-A.G

Wicked

Now I've always been wary of musicals. I think I've inherited my *ahem* disdain for them from my father, who whenever we went to go see Phantom of the Opera, would have a sour grimace on his face. My grandfather is the same way, except he groans loudly, attracting the attention of others to us, watching as I slowly sink into my seat from embarrassment. When we went to see Sweeney Todd, he said loudly, "Arielle, you didn't tell me this was a musical! I should go get my money back!" There have been few, very few musicals which I have enjoyed such as Phantom of the Opera and West Side Story (I'm still debating whether or not it is technically a musical). So when one of my good friends invited me and Ezra to see Wicked with her for her eighteenth birthday, I was a little apprehensive. I didn't want her parents to pay for my ticket if I didn't think I was going to enjoy the musical.

Imagine my surprise when, as soon as the first song is sung, I find myself drawn into the alternate Universe of Oz, smiling as the actors prance around on stage and sing love ballads to one another. As I walked out of the theater, my cheeks glowing in excitement from the surprisingly, decent, happy ending, I realized, I loved it.

It was interesting with a strong dash of romance but most of all it was witty and humorous. Glinda's outrageously happy go lucky character was amusing, albeit charming wile Elphaba's biting wit reminded me of my own sense of humor. It was a musical anyone could enjoy because it spoke to the outcast that exists in every single person. Oh, yes, I enjoyed it immensely.

But of course, it was also an excuse to wear a fabulous, simple outfit (silk homecoming dress with opaque black tights, BCBG heels, and a DIY bow headband).

Have you ever seen Wicked and what did you think of it?

Lovely, Lovely Autumn

Unlike my dear friend over at isingamerica, I haven't been so dedicated in posting very often. I must admit, its a heavy combination of ridiculous amounts of IB work, college applications, the SATs and the SAT IIs, the stress of moving, and of course, my old friend, Procrastination. So today, I really looked outside, and I mean really looked and found myself smiling without remembering moving my facial muscles. Why?

Its fall.

The slow and beautiful transition from green to fiery shades only found in a cackling fire or the setting sun is something to inspire poets and take the long esteemed position of the muse. It makes me want to breath, deeply and slowly and passionately in order to take in the clean crisp air mingled with the scent of pine and change. 

Fall is a herald of all things lovely to come- apple cider mulled on a sunny, chilly Saturday with my mother to be brought with us to the dog park, hot chocolate made to drink whilst reading my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice as the sun slowly descends towards sleep, a carpet of oranges, reds, and yellows creating an ethereal but all the same, beautiful world in which we trespass for one season of the year, cozy moccasins lined with synthetic fur (I love my animals!) unnecessary due to the thick, velvet like socks covering my feet, flannel sheets, and Thanksgiving. 

All of these things make me smile, giggle, and cover my gently reddened cheeks with hands snuggled into knitted mittens made especially by Great- Grandma (with love). 

However, lets not forget the most important aspect of Autumn.

Fashion

So I've compiled a list of things I would like to have before the start of lovely, lovely winter (although many items from fall can easily transition into the wintry months). 

1. Rugby inspired scarf

This one from Target for $12.99 is perfect!

2. Ruffled shirt

This would look perfect underneath a peacoat or a partially buttoned cardigan/ vest for a more professional feel

3. Peacoat/ Some sort of Wool Coat   

Both of these would do excellently, although I am more drawn to the classic lines of the belted pea coat

4. Blazer

This one from Old Navy looks similar to the Ralph Lauren striped blazer (worn by Serena in this weeks episode of Gossip Girl)

5. Knee high leather, flat boots

These pulled over light washed denim skinny jeans would keep me warm and stylish

6. Bow and Charm Hat 

While I am usually not a fan of Juicy Couture (often an enemy of it), I love this whimsical hat in a pleasing shade of ivory. Although it looks like a hat one could find anywhere, the bow and the charm just won me over. 

7. Pleated skirt

paired with the sweater tights below and the blazer or pea coat above, it would be a perfect, versatile piece for my fall wardrobe. 

8. Sweater Tights

No need for explanation

9. And finally, This lovely headband, perfect for brightening the cooler days of Autumn

What are your fall essentials?

Happy Autumn

Sincerely, (drinking apple cider with scones)

blackroserei

Obsessed with Bubble Tea

I'm a huge fan of bubble tea. I have been for almost five years now, when I first tried a cup of bubble tea in middle school at some hole in the wall restaurant in Boston. Unfortunately, I've barely been able to have it considering that there seems to be an extreme shortage of bubble tea places in Marietta (and mumsie really isn't willing to drive a long way for a cup of bubble tea). 

So when I went to Boston, I nearly exploded with excitement whilst driving through Brookline. I saw at least three bubble tea places on two streets and there were even more restaurants who served bubble tea.

The first place I was able to get my fix at was at a restaurant in Amherst, Massachusetts where I got the milk tea with mini boba at the bottom. As usual, it was delicious. My grandfather even got some, although he was a sceptic at first concerning the boba. Then there were two places I went to in Brookline, one a really cute korean shop with an internet cafe and red bean ice-cream (!!!!), and the other a Thai place where the woman serving us reminded me of the Crypt Keeper (that tea also happened to taste odd). 

The cutest place by far was a place called Lollicup in the Super 88 Market (the most awesome market in the world, they should have one here in the GA). First of all, it was the best bubble tea I've ever had ( I got the strawberry slush with mega boba at the bottom). Both Papa and    O-Ma tried some, getting the Thai Iced tea slush with boba and the Mango slush with mega boba. But other than that, the whole little stall was exploding with cuteness, something that would ordinarily make me vomit, but actually made me oddly happy. Down to the cups, everything was cute. They even had these really cool tops with a graphic design on the top-they were basically a thin sheet of plastic fused onto the top of your cup where you poke your straw through a flower's smiling face. 

Eco-friendly and cute? Totally up my alley. So after this, O-Ma became obsessed with bubble tea and is even thinking about buying into the franchise so we can have another Lollicup in Georgia (the only other one is in Duluth).

Least to say, I was very please. I'll probably be digesting boba for the next month.

Yum

Why, Vic Zhou

While wallowing in doing absolutely NOTHING today, I began to re-watch one of my favorite asian dramas called Mars. First, let me say that my obsession with asian dramas has completely swallowed up my entire monotonous day, usually occupied with HGTV and my dog Charlie, who likes to lick panties. My obsession with these drams began last summer when I transitioned from my fanatic anime state to watching shows with actual people in it (no longer were the days of having crushes on drawn characters). I think I may spend around...two hours a day during the school year watching dramas. During the summer, my god, its not easy to calculate. Well it is actually, but the time spent is more than I would like to admit.

So anyway, I just finished watching MARS for like the third time and I'm emotionally drained because its...an emotionally draining show. With the rape, suicide, and effeminate sociopaths in the drama, I feel as though I've dealt with more by watching it than I'll ever have to deal with in reality. Its a fact thats both comforting and saddening because that means that I will never really get to meet Vic Zhou.

The perfect model of a man. The first time I saw him was in Meteor Garden and I thought that his face was one of the weirdest faces I've ever seen, mainly because his nose was so big. But as I kept watching, I began to think to myself, "He's really good-looking". And now after watching Mars, where the character he plays makes me want to tie him to a bed and do lascivious...things to him, all thats in my head is Vic Zhou, not my usual other asian hotties. I think I will post some pictures, just so that I have something delicious to look at whilst writing.

All I could really think about the entire time was what he would look like completely nude. My brain nearly exploded with the image. 

SO now that MARS is over, I have to find another asian drama to watch. To fill up my day of doing nothing.  

P.S I really freaking hate that Secret commercial with the obnoxious b**** who holds up her arms...all the time. I would like Secret to know that commercial is a failure In fact, it makes me NOT want to wear Secret for fear I'd become a complete duchebag. 

 

Salami and Peppermints

"Have you ever tried salami and peppermints?" Kline asked me when we met yesterday at Panera bread. 

To my surprise, he hadn't yet taken a bite out of the front page yet. I blinked, thinking of an answer but all I said was, "So no newspaper today?"

The brunette seemed to ignore this question and merely repeated his. "Well have you?" he added. 

I shook my head. "No. That combination never really crossed my mind. It sounds...unique."

A euphemism. 

Kline shrugged his shoulders, broad for someone so lanky. Then he ripped the front page off of the newspaper, and stuffed it into his mouth. I watched as he chewed thoughtfully.

He swallowed and said. "Well you should, you know. Its a different taste, very...unique." He smirked as he threw my own words back at me. 

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe one of these days I'll try it. Perhaps I can fit it into my schedule of doing absolute nothing during the day."

"Welcome to the club," Kline said to me, raising his cup of black coffee in a mock toast.

"Shouldn't you be doing something," I asked, suddenly curious about this kid's life. "Like going to school part time or working?"

"I do work," Kline answered with another shrug of his shoulders.

"Doing what?"

"I'm a writer."

I'm a writer too, if you can call short stories crammed into a disintegrating notebook writing. "What exactly do you write?"

"Whatever I feel like. Somedays, its poems and haikus. Other days, I write a piece of music. And on Fridays, always on Fridays, I write two sentences to add to my short story."

"How long is you short story?"

"As of now, its around ten pages."

I raise my eyebrow again. "Must've taken you a long time."

"Not really." He pauses, taking an alternate bite of his onion bagel and the front page of the newspaper. "My story takes place in a dream. The first two paragraphs of the story are blank."

"Blank?"

"To create a dream like space."

"My dreams are usually filled to the brim with action of some sort."

Kline shook his head. "No. When you first enter this new dimension in you mind, nothing happens. Have you ever noticed that?"

"Not really. I'm asleep."

"There's this big blank space of nothingness, all white, if you can give this space a color in order to describe the absence of everything. After this, your dream comes, it is birthed into this space."

"I never thought of that."

"That's what this white space at the beginning of the story represents. The reader enters this new dream like dimension along with the protagonist of the story. To create a parallel universe in some ways."

"It makes sense," I said.

"I hope so. I just kind of wrote it randomly."

"So what happens after that?"

"I build the landscape of this dreamworld. In this story, its a town of estranged humans who are ignorant of the fact that they're estranged. The whole story is based on a dream and an allegory."

"An allegory?" I asked, after swallowing a piece of newspaper. "Is it a specific one?"

"Plato's allegory of the cave," Kline answered. He asked me if I've ever heard of it and I reply with a 'yes'. "Well its the whole wheel for the entire dream."

"So its almost like a story within a story."

"I guess so."

We sit in silence for two, maybe three minutes before I ask him, "Do you come here every day?"

Kline nodded. "I do. I bring twenty, maybe thirty bucks and buy food throughout the day. I stay here until five."

"You just do that?" I aksed incredulously. "You just sit here every day, all day? Doesn't it get boring?"

"When I find something more interesting to do, I guess I'll do it."

I faintly think of myself, sitting in front of the television, watching HGTV all day and looking through my ten editions of "Cottage Living". Something more interesting? What if there wasn't? What if I couldn't find something more interesting to do? 

Kline, seemingly having read my mind, said, "I may never find anything more interesting to do. But that's the fun of this."

"Of what?"

"Of doing the same thing day in and day out. I'm waiting. Waiting for something to change, something to give, something to break and cause a completely different situation than what I do everyday."

I watched him pensively, taking in his very striking words.

"When that something happens, when that something magnificent and magnanimous happens, it'll make up for all the waiting."

"And you won't feel as though you've wasted any time?" I asked him.

"I'm not wasting time. I'm waiting."

Paper

6/13/2008- the day that I met Kline.

It was totally random, our meeting that occurred that day

I was sitting at the coffee shop up the street, researching colleges (at the request of mum, of course). A guy, maybe around eighteen, sat down in the armchair across from me, with a newspaper, some fruit salad, and a cup of coffee. In my head, I though, "Just some random guy." I went back to observing the homepage of Boston University.

Suddenly a tearing sound interrupted the comfortable silence that I'd been sitting in for half an hour. Slightly irritated, I glanced up and something about the man sitting across from me caught my eye.

The tearing stopped.

The man across from me kept reading the newspaper, as if he hadn't been affected at all by the sound. I looked around to see if anybody else had heard the out of place noise. Everyone else was gulping down coffee, conversing about work, or quietly reading. Nothing seemed out of place. 

Two minutes later, the tearing noise came again and this time I was waiting for it. I quickly looked up, my eyes peeled for whatever or whoever had caused the noise. 

It was the guy across from me, tearing pieces off of his newspaper. He took a moment and ran a hand through his messy, chestnut colored hair before...before...it took me a moment to realize exactly what he ws doing.

"Are you...are you eating paper?" I asked incredulously.

He looked up, pausing to look at me before stuffing the rest of the piece of paper in his mouth. Taking a moment to chew, he watched me with wide blue eyes before swallowing the lump of pulp.

"Yes," he answered simply, tearing another piece.

I paused a moment to watch him eat his piece before asking, "Why?"

He shrugged. "I like the taste."

"So you don't actually read the newspaper? You just eat pieces of it."

"I guess so." Again he paused, this time to take a large sip of his black coffee. "I think I may have some sort of problem...I think its called Pikkie."

"Pica," I corrected. "Or maybe you just like to eat paper."

I distinctly remember the look he gave me, eyes narrowed with an emotion I still can't decipher.  

"I'm Kline," he said. "What's your name?"

"Arielle," I answered. 

He nodded, although I had a feeling that my name didn't mean much to him. Like the previous two times, Kline tore a long strip of newspaper and looked at it a moment. "Why don't you try it?"

I blinked with surprise. "Er...try what?"

"Paper."

He handed the piece of newspaper to me, and I observed it as if it was from another planet or a fossil recently shook of thousands of years of dirt. My particular piece had a comic on it, however, it cut off right in the middle of the joke. I looked at Kline for a moment, watching his face for a couple of seconds before slowly putting the piece of newspaper in my mouth.

In my head, I was berating myself in the voice of my father, discussing and describing how many different germs were probably on the newspaper, how many different dyes not to be consumed by humans were on that piece of newspaper. Does Kline wash his hands after he goes to the bathroom?

Despite all of these problems with the newspaper and a whole life that told me to do the contrary, I ate the piece of newspaper. I slowly ate and after a while, to my surprise, it actually tasted...good.

So after that, I sat in the cafe, drinking coffee and eating paper with Kline.

And I decided that perhaps I would start to eat paper afterall, every once in a while. 

Maybe next time, I'll eat the front page.