The War on Terra (or The War on Terrible Dreams)

My friend Oded invited me to a screening of The Age of Stupid last night, a part-SciFi, part-documentary film about the climate crisis. Running late, we could only find seats in the back of the theater and I teased him not to make any moves. Five minutes into the feature, my stomach sunk. It hadn't even occurred to me that this could be another feel-like-shit-about-being-an-American film and I reeeally wasn't in the mood for that. Ugggghhhh. I imagined sulking deeper and deeper into my seat as the next two hours passed by, until finally I'd land on the Raisinette-littered floor and let any foreigners spit on me on their way out.

Thankfully, Stupid doesn't focus on the United States as the only curse to climate change (though the facts speak for themselves). And although pretty much all climate change information sounds redundant to me at this point, writer and director, Franny Armstrong, calculates enough of a human-interest angle to temper any trace of science. I recommend it, especially to all my sustainability-speaking, green guru friends in Boulder (Nicole).

The screening was followed by a live press conference via satellite from New York, a cool acoustic performance by Radiohead's Thom Yorke, and an even cooler all-night happy hour with my friends at Tahona Tequila Bar. Jess is invited to a darrrrling little (non) "low budget," (non) "D.I.Y.," ranch-style destination wedding next weekend outside of Winter Park (which has, no surprise, erupted in last-minute chaos) so that became the topic of conversation.

The five of my friends and I stirred up our own set of opinions about "destination" weddings (namely, that they're disastrous) which triggered a now reoccurring dream later that night. In this horribly uncomfortable dream, I'm the bride about to be married and days away from walking down the aisle. As the situation comes into focus, I begin to panic at the thought of marrying that guy. "What was I thinking?" I ask myself every time. Then when I try to remember him actually proposing to me, I never can.

The dream lasts a few days, and all the while I'm looking at the people around me, trying to decide who I can desperately trust to help me. I'm feel frantic imagining marrying this guy and assured that we will end up divorced shortly down the road. When I decide on an accomplice, I tell them that I'll do anything to call off the wedding. In one version, the accomplice is my mom who gives me a tough-love talk moments before I walk down the aisle. She tells me, "You can't back out now and do this to such a wonderful man." In last night's version, Jess actually helps me off the hook and I'm able to leave the bewildered groom behind. (In a strange sidenote, his family is overwhelmingly understanding. Ha!)

So you're probably wondering who the guy is. Let me just say that it's been a different ex either time.

The groom is always one of the remarkably (...or, reasonably) eligible bachelor's I've dated and remain friends with, but haven't ended up with for one reason or another. Seriously, is this some sort of sick curse for calling myself a Romantic? For daydreaming about marrying the guy I'm dating? For doodling my third grade boyfriend's name all over the front of my Trapper Keeper? If I promise never to let my imagination get ahead of my relationship, will that be the end of this stupid, terrible dream?

I suppose it couldn't hurt. Shit, I may even learn a new thing or two about the realities of dating, end my own Age of Stupid. In honor of my personal War on Terra, I promise to keep my cynical feet on the ground ...momentarily.

Same As It Ever Was

Alright, to call myself a slacker in the blog department wouldn't even begin to cover it, I KNOW. I've also written about half a dozen leads at this point, all starting with some lame excuse for now writing recently blah blah blah, so I think maybe I'll mash them all up and call it a "Choose Your Own Adventure" post someday so that they can quit clogging my gmail inbox and I can stop saving lousy half-drafts on Jess' desktop.

(With THAT off my chest...) I couldn't be in a better mood!

Truthfully, nothing puts me in a better mood than buying a plane ticket to New York, and my wonderful mom offered to foot the Halloween trip bill for my 26th birthday present! Yay! After a summer of traveling (i.e. playing around the east coast), however, I've promised myself that I'll make this trip a productive one by actually (A) setting up some job interviews and (B) leaving a bag of winter clothes behind so that I have less to bring when I actually MOVE.

But back to the good mood for now... I've had this wild spinoff tonight, from what started as a "work" session to wrap up a freelance job. Then somewhere between looking up vintage Halloween costumes, listening to Devandra Banhart videos on youtube, and searching for the perfect pair of brogue flats for fall, I gave myself permission to stay up as late as I want -to hell with feeling exhausted in the morning! I'm not sure why, but staying up really late when you know you have somewhere to be early the next day is sort of like having breakfast for dinner or popping an oreo in your mouth first thing before getting in the shower when you wake up... sometimes it just feels like the right thing to do.

Also contributing to the mood: an amaazing Labor Day weekend trip to New York, two of the SICKEST vintage finds in years (denim shit/coat with cowboy star embroidery and a black, beaded sweater with pointy Balmain shoulders that might possibly weigh 7-lbs.), seeing Phoenix, Passion Pit, and Chromeo at Monolith music festival, being photographed at the festival, daydreaming about a new love interest, and finding a brand new Vogue and Vanity Fair waiting in my mailbox. I mean, really, what else could a girl ask for?

I also started an internship last week with Bonnier Mountain Group, which is the media company in Boulder that owns Ski Magazine, Skiing Magazine, and Warren Miller films --as in skiporn, for those of you who don't live in a state obsessed with snow sports. I've basically been helping the film tour director, Cheech, get the new website up and running and last Friday he asked me to screen the press copy of this year's film for audio glitches (I mean, if I haaaaaave to). More than anything, though, I'm grateful to have the industry exposure right now while I'm looking for a full-time job.

I guess that watching the film on Friday is what really started off this whole blissed-out mood thing in the first place. With plans to move after Christmas, it gave me an opportunity to reflect on all the unbelievable ski seasons I've had out here. Then I couldn't help but think of how far things have come since I first moved out here. Let me sum it up for you: The experience I had skiing before moving to Colorado was a total of two hours one day when I was working as a camp counselor at winter session in southern Indiana. The place was called Ski World (may it rest in peace), and all I remember was my best friend Mari grabbing the crotch of her baggy non-waterproof snow pants to stop herself from laughing as I crossed my skis (standing still) in the lift line and fell on top of two guys I later recognized from high school.

Needless to say, I was not the most graceful swan in the pond. I also briefly dated this guy this guy who was, once upon a time, completely obsessed with skiing. We're talking the walls of his bedroom plastered with trail maps of places I pretended to have heard of. For Christmas that year, I thought that I would really hit it out of the park by buying him a ski movie, so I picked out the coolest looking one that I could find online. I later found out that he already owned the same copy --because he bought it as a new release ...five years earlier!

I definitely want to write more about the Warren Miller film, especially for those of you who haven't seen one before, but I'm going to save it for later this week. This is going to sound really cheesy, but watching the film on Friday just reminded me of how incredible it's been to be a part of the ski and snowboarding culture out here for so long, and a reminder of what I will miss! Ha ha, and how far I have come...

"It's funny how one big storm can come through and make everything seem the same as it ever was."

(And now, please excuse the blog-vomit to follow. Without much explanation, below are just some of the fashion images that have inspired me lately... Also, I'd like to give a shout out to the friends who helped me celebrate my 26th birthday in the Hamptons this year ...that backdrop is the most PERFECT canvas for a creative mind. Zora, Kacy, your style f*cking rocks! Danee, Kloke, Oren, Greg, Dan, everyone, thank you for the inspiration! Mmmmuuuuuuaaaa!)


I absolutely love her, as always.




1960's French model, Charlotte Martin