shameful!

so this has obviously been Slacker month here at One Girl, 12 Ways.

matt said to me, "tea! you almost made it through the whole year!"

i don't think i've ever managed a year-long commitment to anything, so that'd truly be an accomplishment. i hang my head.

BUT -- i can always hope to redeem myself come December, yes? a chirstmas miracle! stay tuned!

until then, enjoy this video of paula deen eating a "burger", which i would argue is more shameful than my blog-lapse this month:

all dressed up, nowhere to go . . .

Scared yet?

Halloween is nearly upon us, people! Dispite my attempts to be on top of shit this year, I am once again clutching at costume straws. My most excellent Roller Derby Girl outfit is proving more challenging than I anticipated -- and that's ignoring the minor detail of my not knowing how to skate. So now it's time to come up with a Plan B -- but I'll be damned if I'm going to the Garment District this week. I'm a weird girl, I must have some wacky, costume-worthy shit around the house, right? Let's see . . .


Ok, this is what I managed to gather from my "dressing table":



Hmmm . . . how about a "fuzzy beast" costume?


(I actually bought this wolf hat to wear this winter. It's really warm. Also, I don't have to go into an office anymore . . . so I am a little out of touch with how "normal" people dress. Don't judge.)


Or maybe "Flapper of the Night"?


(This headdress was my great-grandma's from the 1930's, the fan was a gift from Julia's travels.)


"Washed Up Devil"? or "The Octomom's Oldest Child"?

(Yawn, I know. Horns came from Canobie Lake - they also light up. Badass!)


"Grizzly Sea Captain":

With Mermaid:


(Captain's Hat was picked up in Florida, the paper-mache mermaid was inherited from Mama G. Yarrrr!)



"Everyone's Favorite Revolutionary War Hero, Sam Adams":


Or, I could throw a sheet over my head and go as "The Spirit of the Revolution":

I'd have to be a taupe colored ghost, though.
(Tri-corn hat was a 4th of July accessory. Because I need hats for every holiday.)



Along the same vein, I could also be "The Spirit of New Orleans":

(Mask was a NOLA souvenir from Papa G, voodoo doll was also a NOLA gift from Julia.)



I seem to have small collection of these hats of the 1940's/1950's . . . perhaps I could be "Jackie O's Personal Secretary" or "An Extra on Mad Men" . . . or "Grandma, 1952":


(Both hats were, in fact, inherited from my grandma.)



Oh man . . . so many choices! Any further suggestions of stuff I can make with this rag-tag pile of weird hats?

No wonder I love Halloween. If this accessory collection is any indication, every freakin' day is like Halloween over here! It's true - I don't like to take myself or my fashion too seriously. Life's too short, people. Put on a wacky hat and go to the grocery store.

Actually . . . maybe I could wear one of these hats, some slippers, and a stained velour sweatsuit and go as "Crazy Woman in the Canned Food Aisle of Shaw's".

I like it.

down the rabbit hole

tap, tap. is this thing on?

is there anyone left out there?

many of you have been "reminding" me to blog for weeks now -- sorry it has taken me this long! i'm not dead - i'm not even suffering from the swine flu. i've simply been poking around inside my head for the past month. i am happy to report that things are starting to get sorted.

so . . . where were we?

when i last left ya'll it was Back to School month. while my plans to blog about all things educational failed miserably, i *did* manage to set in motion a true Back to School plan. i'm officially applying to grad school at Simmons for my Master of Library Science degree. every parent's dream, right? a librarian in the family!

i've been taking stock of all the things i truly enjoy doing: reading. sometimes writing. looking up crazy crap on the internet. entertainment. snarkiness. stand up comedy. i weighed these against the things i hated about my last job: a cubicle. suits. kissing the asses of my corporate overlords. working a gazillion hours a week to improve the company's bottom line and not my own.

based on my calculations, being a Young Adult librarian will allow me to focus on the things i love -- books, information, youth culture -- in an environment that is refreshingly far from corporate america. everybody wins!

so the past couple weeks have found me slowly pulling together all my application information, which has been slightly stressful. its been a long time since i've filled out a FAFSA form, or written an essay about my Career Goals. the ball is in motion, though -- and with any luck, i'll be polishing off the last few pieces of the application this week. then comes the financial part. anyone need a kidney? i'll sell ya one for $27,000.

i'm really excited about this new vision of my future! excited, and nervous. commitments of any sort freak me out -- perhaps that's why i've waited this long to seriously consider any sort of "long term" life plan. but now that i've set my cap on librarianship, i'm in love with the idea. i'll feel a lot better once the application process is complete, though. paperwork fills me with anxiety. and rage.

anyway -- we have now reached the month of October! insanity! where has the time gone?! the trees outside my window are all bare and brown, the Garment District is packed full of obnoxious college students. i need to get a jump on my costume plans, so i'm not frantically tearing through the leftovers three days before Halloween, like last year.

have i mentioned how much i love Halloween? i love it. a lot.

a few weeks ago, Miss A and i took a trip out to Wilmington to see the roller derby. which was amazing. while we were strolling the desolate streets from the train station to our dinner destination, Miss A took a good long look at the thoroughfare of car washes and crumbling strip malls and asked, "so, what did you do for fun here?"

i replied, "oh, you know . . . we'd walk to the library. or go hang out in the cemetery."

i didn't think of myself as one of those "goth" kids in high school -- i didn't wear black lipstick or eyeliner or listen to excessive amounts of the cure or anything -- but there has always been a whiff of the macabre about me. i was armed with a ouija board at age 9. i was the kid that other mothers would politely ask to stop scaring the rest of the sleepover guests. i looooved being scared. i loved blurring the line of reality and the unknown -- i dreamed of having some sort of supernatural experience. i wanted the ghost stories to come to life. thus, my passion for halloween.

also, there was free candy. so yeh -- ultimate holiday for spooky, chubby kids.

while i like to think that i've matured slightly over the years -- i no longer move the ouija board to make it spell the names of my friends' deceased pets -- my love of all things creepy remains strong. i still enjoy cemeteries and ghost stories. i still own a ouija board. i watched the episode of Ghost Hunters where they take Meat Loaf to a supposedly haunted island:
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so October is going to be Gothic Month here at One Girl, 12 Ways. that doesn't mean i'm out to rob a Hot Topic or anything -- its just the time of year to curl up with a good ghost story or go shuffle through the leaves in a big ol' new england cemetery. and before this month is over, i vow to do both.

and i vow to keep you better informed of my movements, blog-readers! i realize the end of the year is fast approaching, and i wanna keep the blog momentum rolling all the way into 2010!

anything is possible, right?

tea and archaeology

Weekdays can get a little maddening when you're unemployed. Friends are working. Oprah is still in summer reruns. And I refuse to allow myself to get hooked on the soaps. If I start talking about how Brad thinks Sage is totally his, but she's actually been sleeping with Dylan while Madison is in a coma -- come over here and slap me.

It shouldn't be that hard to find interesting things to do with my time that don't involve TV or alcohol. After all, this is a fairly bustling metropolitan area. Plus, I live within walking distance of two of the most geek-chic-elite universities in country! Surely there must be something more intellectually stimulating to do besides camping out in the cafe of Borders, reading all the British tabloids.

A Yelp search of "Cambridge arts & entertainment" opened a whole new, touristy world of activity to me. Boston/C-bridge is chock full of museums and galleries, historical monuments and trails. I have seen almost none of these things, because I spend all my free time in karaoke bars. Or my apartment.

So what better activity for "back-to-school" month than to learn more about my hometown, and take advantage of its uber-intellectual resources?

Sure, I may not be smart enough or rich enough to attend Harvard. But on Wednesdays and Sundays any shmuck with a Massachusetts license can check out the University's "collection of artifacts we begged/borrowed/stole from native peoples" -- for free!

You all know how I love free shit.

So, come with me on a magical mystery tour of Harvard University's Peabody Museum of Archaeology & Ethnology!


See -- it's appropriately brick-ish and museum-like from the outside:


A brief note about Tea and museums -- I effing love them. Truth. Every since Miz Linda and I did our "backpackers tour of London" back in September '07, I've learned to appreciate the weird and wonderful world of display cases, dioramas, and ancient-dust-covered shit. I enjoy crappy museums and world-class, state-of-the-art museums with equal measure.

For the record, the Peabody Museum is neither.

But let me start from the beginning.

Wednesday, 3pm. I wandered into the lobby of the Peabody Museum, which reminds me a bit of a Victorian-era high school. Or library. Actually -- remember that '80's movie, The Neverending Story? When the kid hides in the attic of his creepy school or whatever, reading the magic book? It's kinda like that:

Attic from Neverending Story . . .




Attic of Peabody Museum.

Point made?

Anyway - the woman at the reception desk appeared genuinely surprised to see me. I suspect the museum is not exactly a happening place most weekday afternoons. In fact, I seemed to be one of only 4 people wandering the halls of the place, which added to the overall creepy-haunted-museum vibe. Excellent.

So after showing her this:


. . . I was given one of these:


I love these little museum lapel clips. I usually lose them about 5 minutes into my museum visit . . . but there must be some sort of fun craft I could do with 'em . . .

Back to the Peabody:

As the name suggests, the Peabody Museum is full of artifacts "recovered" from various indigenous peoples. The entire first floor is a homage to Native Americans. Complete with piped in sounds of tribal drums and chanting. This was a little disconcerting, as I was wandering the floor alone. In some places, the exhibit rooms were completely dark until I tiptoed in and set off the light sensors. The overall "you're-about-to-be-scalped!" vibe was way more exciting than most of the exhibits, which were limited to 1950's-era dioramas of tribal huts and displays of old baskets, blankets, and sliver jewelry / belt buckles that could have come from straight Urban Outfitters.

Clearly, I need to foster a greater appreciation for the arts of our native peoples.

Anyway -- there were a few highlights, including this totally random modern graffiti piece:


And this sign, explaining how Native Americans kinda hate Harvard University . . . and the rest of America:


There was also a small installation on "Excavating Harvard Yard". Digging in the Yard unearthed a whole load of broken pottery, animal bones, and bits of old pipes -- giving us a unique window into the life and times of Ye Olde Harvard Students. For example -- did you know that back in the day, the food at Harvard was really, really bad? We're talking rancid butter bad. Also, your socio-economic status determined whether or not you were allowed to eat with a fork:


Bored with the dusty old crap of the USA, I wandered up to the South American floor, where I found the best display in the whole museum:

. . . also, the most hot-pink display in the whole museum!
That, my friends, is a Dia de los Muertos shrine. I wish my cell-phone camera was less crappy, because it was the most ornate, detailed, fabulously cool thing ever. I could have stared at it for an hour. Sadly, some obnxious lady and her super-bored children wandered in and interrupted my private gawking session. But I would seriously go back to the Peabody just to visit this shine again . . . which maybe makes me a loser. Whatever - I stand by that statement! It was cool, people!

Moving up to the attic-like 3rd floor, I found the Pacific-Islander Artifacts. This crap was actually pretty cool:

I have no idea what this little dude represents. I probably could have read the accompanying explanatory placards . . . but who has time for that?

There was a brief moment on the 3rd floor where I actually did get spooked. I was the only person on the entire level, and most of the floor was still shrouded in darkness, since all the lights are on occupancy sensors. Suddenly, there was a tremendously loud creaking noise behind me, and I jumped about a foot in the air. Total Ghost Hunters moment. Then I realized the noise was actually coming from the floor below me, where that annoying family was still hogging my Day of the Dead shrine.

Any museum that can so fully capture that spooky, Hollywood-esque haunted house vibe gets two thumbs up from me! The whole place is like a little portal back in time . Maybe not to ancient times, but perhaps a Victorian Harvard where students still wore caps and gown to class and stealing from the "Indians" was not considered a crime. Bottom line -- I would love love love to spend the night in this building. And not so I can read up on gods of the Pacific Islanders.

After about 45 minutes, I'd had my fill of the Peabody Museum. Since it was free, I didn't feel like I needed to linger and read all the boring signs to get my money's worth. As I skipped back down the steps and up the street towards home, I was mildly impressed that a) I'd just gone to a museum all by myself in the middle of the day, and b) all this crazy ancient crap was tucked away in an unassuming brick building just up the road from my house. This "learning about my city" thing is a-ok! Next up -- the MIT Museum? The Somerville Museum? The Lars Anderson Auto Museum? How many of these bad boys can I hit before the end of September?

Only one way to find out!

trapperkeepers unite!

Wait -- it's September?!

Seriously, where did the summer go? A whole season gone -- poof! Just like that. One minute it was May, and I was sitting in a lonely cube, contemplating taking my own life with an staple remover . . . now suddenly, autumn is here and I'm living off Uncle Sam while trying to stay sober long enough to come up with a life plan.

Fortunately, fall has always been my favorite time of year. Perfect weather, perfect sunlight, an abundance of apples and pumpkins. Halloween! Seriously, what's not to love?

And obviously -- it's back-to-school season.

Now, when I was actually enrolled in a school of some sort, I was perpetually bitching and moaning about something . . . the loss of free time, the homework, the early bedtime. The uniform. The B Line. There was no end to my educational complaints.

I stand before you today a reformed girl. I, Tea Guarie, miss going back to school. I miss the smell of the floor polish, the shopping for Lisa Frank folders, new backpacks and booklists, the syllabi, the after school activities, the day planner dutifully filled in until the second week of October.

I was pretty good at school. Not an Einstein or anything -- as the grammar and spelling of this blog can attest. But I loved that feeling of a fresh start every September, with new teachers and subjects and challenges. I love learning things. I don't retain most of what I learn -- but I have always found the process of learning enjoyable. In school, your job is to simply be open to knowledge -- have an opinion or an idea, and defend it. Express yourself. Think beyond the borders of your own world.

God, why wasn't I so hot n' bothered about learning when it actually counted? Probably because they were making me learn Geometry and Chemistry.

But, yes. This year more than ever, I wish I was going back to school.

Which brings us to September's One Girl, 12 Ways theme. While I may not be currently enrolled in any formal educational institution, I vow to make this a month of mind-expansion. Clear the cobwebs out of the ol' brain and learn a little, goddamn it!

And unlike my half-assed summer posting schedule -- this month I vow to be on the ball! In fact -- I already have the topic and research for my next September post all ready to go! That's right -- I'm doin' the assignments ahead of schedule! How do ya like them apples??

Don't worry -- just like every other school year, my motivation/enthusiasm will have all but disappeared by October. Just in time for Halloween.

and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden

I'm sick of the concrete jungle this week, kids. It's so hot. And yes, I know it's hot everywhere . . . but there's something extra oppressive about summer in the city. Every surface seems to absorb as much heat as possible and then radiate it back like a giant convection oven.

I'm pretty sure I'm sizzlin' at medium-rare right now.

In my 'hood, people go to the dog-park for relief. It's the closest expanse of green space available -- and even that little mecca of grass looks out on the shopping plaza and a McDonalds.

As Kermit the Frog once said: "Green can be cool and friendly-like." Unfortunately, our green space is more: "humid and full of homeless drunk people."

I digress.

So tonite, whilst making sweet love to my air conditioner, I stumbled upon a documentary on the History Channel called Woodstock: Now & Then. Which reminded me . . . oh yeh, it's hippie month!

I've always had a thing for Woodstock. I went thru a hippie-lust phase in high school, around the time most of my friends were enjoying N'SYNC and shopping at Abercrombie. I kept my unruly curly hair long (mistake!) and wore a lot of baggy shirts. And I had a lot of crap from The Body Shop. Not much of a counter-culture statement.

I think what has always captivated me about true-blue flower children is their uninhibited approach to living. Hippies were free. On a lot of drugs, yes -- but free to do those drugs, make love and art, dance naked in the mud, start communes, start movements. They lived in the moment, and in that moment their lives had meaning. Just by simply existing, they were part of something much bigger than themselves.

Look at the music that came out of that era. People had shit to say -- they expressed themselves through art in hopes that they could change the effed up world around them.

We're living in effed-up times too, people. And so I sit and watch America's Best Dance Crew and Toddlers and Tiaras. I freak out about my weight and tell myself that once I lose 15 pounds -- then I can go take on the world.

God, I'm a terrible hippie.

But I'm trying. I'm recgonizing the things that keep me from being as free as I want to be.

This weekend I went to a Healthy Living Summit sponsored by some of the darlings of the food/healthy lifestyle blogging community. It was inspirational in a few different ways. I've started thinking a lot about what I want my ideal "lifestyle" to be . . . and I smell a new blogging project on the horizon. As if don't have enough blogs going at the moment -- but this is an exciting one, kids! I'll say no more now. Stay tuned.

So anyway, one of the speakers at the Summit was a woman who runs an organic dairy farm in Vermont. She gave a talk on organic farming and agriculture, and showed pictures of her farm -- green rolling pastures, happy cows heading out to graze, her super adorable family. They all work together on the the farm. They know each of their cows and their distinct personalities. They work super hard -- but their work is tangible, it has meaning.

I don't know if my work has ever had meaning.

But Tea -- surely you aren't suggesting you're going to go become an organic dairy farmer, are you? You can't even commit to taking care of an effing hamster!

That's a fair point, readers. And while the likelihood of me becoming a farmer of any sort in the forseeable future is slim to nil . . . my next career move needs to be a more meaningful one. I want my life to have some substance -- I want to get up in the morning and have a purpose, to do something I actually care about. The trick is figuring out what that is. And once I do that, maybe then I'll get a little taste of that hippie-freedom.

Or do I have it backwards? Do I need to just let go and be free in order to discover what it is that makes my heart happy? Isn't that what this month was supposed to be about?

Luckily, life is a journey, not a race. I've got more than the 31 days of August to set free my inner flower-child and head out on the road. This right here? This is me just trying to figure out which way I'm holding the map.

s-t-a-u-n-c-h

I won't lie, I've been feeling a little "Grey Gardens" the past few days. I'm choosing to believe it's the time of the month and not the beginnings of my slow descent into madness.

Flower powers, activate!

Today the sun is shining, the workmen outside my apartment are laughing and yelling in Portuguese, the nut factory's a-roastin' . . . it's gonna be a good day! I'm going to take a stroll through my fair city, run some errands and generally enjoy the outdoors. Just because the world out there is mostly concrete and exhaust fumes doesn't mean I can't appreciate the mood-boosting benefits of sunlight. And also -- the river. Have I mentioned there's a river near my house?

Gotta love bodies of water.

Anyway . . . yeh, this is basically a post about nothing. But with any luck, I will have much more exciting topics to tackle in the very near future.

Now . . . time to shake off the lethargy and go interact with the world. Peace out, Little Edie!