Sock Drawer

As an ant makes his long trek across the screen of my laptop, in search of his own Elysian Fields, I sit in sun and nail polish fumes to ponder the meaning of my existence. Well, at least the meaning of the following three weeks of existence until I go on vacation. Having gone through that epilogue of the school year that is finals week, I celebrate my first day of freedom with several episodes of Doctor Who and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. What shall I do with myself during the remnants of this day?

I've watched so much British television lately that I've started unintentionally and unexpectedly thinking in a British accent (sometimes it's English, sometimes it's Scottish). Do you know what's fun? Going to the mall and talking to everyone in an accent. Or going to Starbucks and giving a different name that isn't your real one. Of course, the only one in on the joke is you but that's what makes it more thrilling I think.

During my preteen and early teen years I used to be a bit of a tomboy. I just wanted to live in jeans and t-shirts all day (and night). I'm sure Past Me would be shocked to meet Present Me, dressed in the frilliest and daintiest of skirts and dresses all day everyday. Sometimes I surprise myself when I find myself cooing over anything pink and frothy. Is this growing up, realizing my femininity? I need to find a huge billowing, swishy, circle skirt to go dancing in this Friday.

I know, I post too many videos here. But you see, this blog is not only a way for me to vent my inner passions but also an online storage facility where I can park videos and links and such that I find amusing so I can return to them at any time. Anyway, here's a clip of Stephen Fry from his early Fry and Laurie comic skit days.

I can't stop listening to this song. It has everything I love in music, the rhythm, the lyrics, the moody feeling. It's deliciously nostalgic and passionate and it makes me feel like I'm at some cafe in Europe on a hot summer evening, the air soaked with heady perfume, and dancing in the arms of some tall, dark, handsome stranger.
Are there songs that put you in a favorite mood like that?



More of my Mood Music.

Robert Cornelius, born in 1809, took the first "light picture" ever taken in the history of mankind and one of the first photographs taken of a human. This is the picture, his self-portrait.




There's something about this picture that I find awfully romantic. Perhaps it's the sentimentalist in me. I adore the tousled hair and the expression on his face and his crossed arms.

Coming across stories like these makes me want to leap to my feet and do something great.