two birds, one stone.

That's kind of an awful expression when you think about it. Wonder where PETA's at now...

Anyways, I just finished writing to the prompt "What does it mean to be an American to you?" for one of my classes. Despite its triteness, I hope I offered a somewhat original response. If not, my excuse is exhaustion.
By the way, Shannon, I apologize for the abrupt ending of our talk today. This blog shout out is my way of making amends for that.

It's probably unnecessary to add that I'm getting double satisfaction for being able to use what I wrote as a blog entry as well.

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When I think of America, and the qualities that distinguish Americans from the rest of the world, one word in particular comes to mind: Convenience. America is a fast-paced society, preoccupied with hectic schedules, trivial errands to run, people to see, and so on. Amidst the busyness is the demand for immediacy; instant coffee, drive-through McDonald’s, drive-through ATMs, delivery pizza, delivery groceries, down loadable books, movies, music, and about anything else you can think of. We are a society that values convenience. The appeal of the motto “Hungry? Why wait?” for Snickers candy bars speaks volumes.
Oftentimes, you don’t really see what makes your culture different from any other until you’re able to step outside of it and get a good look from a distance. This past summer, I was fortunate enough to be able to spend ten weeks traveling around Europe. The first thing that struck me was the slower pace of living. My instinct had been to plan things out, and although I did map out the overall agenda of my trip, I realized that to plan out each moment was antithetical to my purpose for being there. My hope for my trip was to learn. To learn anything; about myself, my life, other people. I wanted the trip to be a monumental moment of growth in my life that I could and would point back to until my old age. I suppose learning to slow down was my first lesson.
My cousin Julie, who’s lived with her husband and two children in the south of France for the past three and half years, took me with she and her family to eat lunch one day at a friend’s house. I realized in the midst of this experience, that to be invited and partake in an authentic French meal is a rare opportunity. We must have sat there at the long wooden table outside for somewhere around three hours, as they brought out course after course to eat. The French must find Americans and American food positively humorous. To watch us scarf down our fast food hamburger in a matter of seconds must look sacrilegious; to the French, food is a religion, an art, and an overall celebration of life. Bites are taken slowly and delicately, and savored for several minutes. In Spain it was the same; meals are about enjoying each bite and the company of the people you’re with. Waiters won’t rush to bring the bill, allowing the opportunity for their customers to enjoy the food and environment they’re providing. American tourists find this “lack of service” offensive?
There’s something distinctly unique about Americans, and beyond the urge for urgency, the demand for immediacy, and the need for convenience, I wonder if it has to do with a deep-rooted competitive instinct inside us. Something has caused us to place a higher price on time than people. A higher price on success and wealth than on finding meaning in the simpler joys of life. Anzia Yezierska says it well in her autobiography, Red Ribbon on a White Horse, “In America everyone tries to better himself, to acquire more than he started with, become more important.” While Americans are busy hustling from Point A to Point B on the fewest number of freeways possible, with their skim lattes carefully wedged between their legs and their children crying in the backseat spilling their Easy-Mac onto the leather seats, the rest of the world is living in the moment, fully able to sit and be mentally present at a three hour lunch, day after day.
I didn’t miss America half as much as I thought I would while I was gone.

the reason i'm about to disappear.

i thought it might be useful to tell those of you who i typically see on a regular basis that i can make no promises of upholding such consistency in the coming four months or so.
you see, i began the spring semester yesterday, and somehow, for some reason, i decided to take 22 units.

Structure of Modern English
Advanced College Writing
Contemporary Novels in English
Resoration and 18th Century Drama
Life History Narrative & the American Experience
Milton
Psychology of Personality
Honors Junior Colloquim

so i'll pretty much be at home reading forever.
but the good thing is that i'll hopefully have some good recommendations and conversation topics by the end of this.

right now i'm reading Pat Barker's Regeneration. She's an award winning British author, and since I'd like to win a Booker prize or two someday...I'm pretty excited to read it. I should be finished with it by this time next week, so I'll let you know how it is.
If I have time, that is...yikes.

changing headline and why i love grocery stores

i realized that my headline needed altering. "blythe: uncensored" sounds a bit scandalous, as if i've either got the mouth of a sailor or will any day post nude pictures of myself and/or friends.
neither of these things are true.

"blythe: unscripted" sounds a little more apropos, as i am both an aspiring writer and frequently unprepared for ...life.

so anyways, i just got home from the grocery store. something about early afternoon grocery shopping makes me so happy. i'm not sure whether it's the soothingly smooth roll of the cart along the clean linoleum, the soft hum of whichever easy-listening song happens to be playing, or the fact that no one is telling you to hurry up; you can take your time browsing the aisles and comparing prices and nutritional information.
this all changes dramatically after about 4:30, however. Frantic after-work shoppers come in looking for quick dinner solutions and clog up the aisles and check out stands. This irks me: why not shop on the weekend for the week's worth of dinners, so you don't have to ruin my shopping experience by being grumpy and wanting to get in and out in 10 minutes?

I'm considering getting a job at Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, or Henry's this summer, admittedly for the discount alone. (told you I'm thrifty...)

lesson in Blythe-isms #1: I am thrifty

and dang proud of it.
I am a proud clipper of coupons (they DOUBLE at ralphs!), a patient wait-till-it's-on-sale customer, a that'll-be-cheaper-at-nordstrom-rack shopper, and a shameless rifler of sale-racks.
i absolutely love a good bargain. i feel that it's my way of "sticking it to the man."

i also love:
ross, tj maxx, buffalo exchange, thrift stores of all shapes and sizes, and i frequently entertain dreams of buying every single item at anthropologie.
but then i snap out of it, since most everything there is the absolute opposite of a bargain (with the exception of the BLESSED after-christmas clearance sale).

since i'm not into matching (this goes for everything from outfits to home decor), it sure makes for an ecclectic style.
why pay more? if you're like me, it's easier to enjoy things if you got them for a great price.

who's with me?

Let's give it a rest.

Why is it that practically every adult in a child's life from teachers to parents to dentists feel the need to ask that annoyingly persistent question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
If you're like me, the answer to this question was in a constant state of adjustment. A teacher. No, an actress. An architect. A news anchorperson. Definately an actress. No, a child psychologist. An infant nutritionist. A photographer. A writer.
As a child, you're allowed to hop around from one goal to the next. You're only a kid, afterall, who's going to blame you for not knowing what you want to do and be in the wide world?
As I've grown older, I'm met with a decreased amount of patience. I'm 21 years old, and I'm supposed to know how I want to spend my time career-wise for the rest of my life?
The weird thing is that now that I've settled on writing, I've felt more at peace about the ever-looming idea of the future, however, many people have assumed I've signed up for a lifetime of underachievement and financial struggle. When I tell them I'm getting my BA in English, nine times out of ten I'm met with the response, "So, you want to be a teacher?"
Did the middle-aged people of today have a much easier time deciding what they wanted to do with their lives when they were in their 20s, or am I missing something?
Does getting a BA in English have to mean I'm expected to teach? Does getting a BA in anything have to mean you stick to that field for your career? Because last time I checked, it didn't.
Nevertheless, the newest question I'm plagued with in conversations, "So what do you plan to do with a BA in English?"
I have a lot of ideas, actually. I could go on to grad school, get my PhD and become a college professor (possibly creative writing), or I could go live in France for awhile and teach english to high school kids (the French gov will gladly fund Americans who desire to teach english in France), or I could work my way into an editing position for a magazine or publishing company.
I didn't choose English because it provides a lot of options, I chose it because I like to write, and I want to get better at it, and then find a career that I love that allows me to write and edit.
But maybe that will change over time, and you know what? I kind of hope it does. If I stumble upon some new love and opportunity to pursue that instead, I'll be open to that too.
So my vote is to stop pestering children about what they're going to do with their lives, and this includes 20-somethings like me, and even older. Let's just live and stop trying to map out our lives and the lives of those around us.

That's my rant of the day.

another reason to love Demetri Martin

since i'm not a die-hard fan of 24....

this is the highlight of my day.



http://www.fancyapint.com/main_site/thepubs/pub2513.html

someone in London loves me very much. AND NOW I HAVE PROOF!

"a great boozer."
never been happier to hear that.

my new year's resolution?

I have never been one to make resolutions, but the truth is I have always wanted to.
People start talking about resolutions early in December, and with furrowed brow I spend a few agonizing minutes dig internally for something I can do; some tangible change I can make in my life. After I can't immediately come up with anything, I usually shrug and forget.
This year is no exception. OR SO I THOUGHT.
I've decided to start a blog, and even though this is cheating the resolution system, I have decided that it can simultaneously count as my resolution.
Sure, it's not a very difficult thing to do, and I in fact wanted to do it before labeling it my resolution. But oh well. Sue me.

And after I laugh in your face for trying to sue me over such a minute and insignificant issue,
do come back and read my blog on a weekly basis, won't you?

!!!