All Apologies

I apologize to myself for not being better about maintaining this thing. Having a consistent blog takes discipline. Discipline I don't have.

But I felt this moment was a good one to steal away and type nonsensically for a few moments as my house/life is falling apart.

As I am graduating this year, we are selling my childhood home. I was okay with this for the 12 years I have lived here (I have very few memories of our apartment in Manhattan, therefore no so much nostalgia) but now that we're down to the last 5 or so months, I am a complete mess (actually, the messy bit has been going on for a bit longer).

Example: the fam was at my sisters home in DC for a few days and at the dinner table my parents began talking about selling our house. My eyes became all watery and gross and I asked to be excused from the table and went to go cry in the kitchen. And this says a lot as I really never cry. REALLY. So, yes, I know there is something terrible going on when crying just becomes a little easier for me.

I actually didn't intend for this post to go in the home-selling direction but I guess it is. There is no stopping it!!

Selling this house feels like we're offing a dear dear dear old old old friend. "Oh, sorry, you've been in our lives for a long long time and we love you to pieces but its time to move on." But instead of sending a christmas card and going for coffee every few years to annull the friendship we instead resort to murder. Charming.

At this present moment, my bedroom is in shambles. We're re-plastering/painting the walls/ceiling and I had to take down most ofthe pictures and posters I so carefully selected and placed upon the wall and all the furniture has been moved to the center of the room and all my crap is scattered about the house. I am without my OWN SPACE. It makes me crazy. I never unerstood the importance of a bedroom until now. My dad spent his adolescence on a pull-out couch in his living room. I really really feel for him.

I also have a serious issue with fixing up this house to make it more presentable for someone else who when they buy it will most likely alter it beytond recognition as is the current trend when people buy charming homes from the forties. I smell stucco coming on. I feel ill.

A Monday sort of Day

"I don't have low self-esteem, I just have low esteem for everyone else."

Daria sums up my entire existence thus far.

Persepolis

Friday, while perusing the mangled shelves of Borders, I came upon the graphic novel version of "Persepolis." I had really wanted to see the film (IFC or Angelika, can't recall) but never got around to it as it means an irritating bus ride and then subway and then awkward wandering as I'd most likely be alone (as I have a problem with asking people to do things with me). And wandering Manhattan alone makes me feel... uncomfortable (in the awkward, not unsafe sense).

So, I bought the novel. I am very glad I did.

Perseplis is a memoir by an Iranian woman who talks about her changing relationship with her country in the form of a graphic novel. Because of my Germanophilia, I have neglected pretty much every other culture known to man. In my free time I watch German films and read Kafka, Günther Grass, Hesse, Schiller, Rilke, Goethe, etc... And while I thought this made me multi-cultural, in reality it only makes me bi-cultural. I NEED to expand my horizons.

So, "Persepolis" is wonderful. I am a big proponent of the graphic novel anways. But I am finding that I am really fascinated by the subject material. I did a report my Sophomore year on Westernization from the POVs of Peter the Great and the Ayatollah Khomeini so I had some background information on what was occuring in Iran. But I find that now I am more fascinated by it than I was then.

There are so many interesting cultures in the world (yes, besides Teutonic). I have been interested in many over the years but am admitting I have fallen into a rut. What mainly pulls me to books like "Persepolis" is my fascination with how culture defines us; whether we remain within our orginal borders or not (much of this comes from my disillusionment with my own country).

What is also intreging for me is the art. I would consider myself a writer and fine artist and of late have been working to combine the two. Seeing it done so sucessfully is inspiring.

This book is quite literally all of my interests wrapped into one. Cultural studies, literature and fine art. Do I smell a Div II project idea?