Falling Behind and Catching up

I am ever so thankful when I find energy on a Saturday Morning to prepare and do something productive.  At the tender age of 23 I am brutally awakening to life.  The life of an adult with only few responsibilities is intriguing, but there is always the resistance of youth which increases the frictional force of time relative only to the person's perception.  Time inevitably is continuous none the less. So I have come to study for yet another examination in my endeavor to become a professional engineer.  I fail to understand every fall that the intensity of material does not decrease but only increases with time.  Thank goodness for fall.  A reminder that things can always get better and also a reminder that something new and fresh is a brew.  There is a reason that 'New Year's" in fashion is September.  Leather jackets never looked so good as they did on a 23-year-old petite female on a mission to reveal the equal nature of women in the entirety of history which has so much distorted it, and a female that is the real version of Mrs. Cathy Gale in her leather outfit without which a certain Mr. Steed could not have completed one mission.  There is something about the yellow in the leaves that makes our minds a bit stronger and in full determination to mix and layer as we please setting trends and redefining class as we do.  So, my friends, wake up a little earlier next Saturday.  Put on your leather jacket and have a fresh start on me! For all that we  ever have thought of accomplishing is ever so feasible in the fall.

A Night at the Opera

Somewhere in the depths of my memories I stumble upon myself in Paris on a hot Friday in May.  My French boyfriend's best friend offered us tickets to La Walkyrie at the Opera National de Paris because his father happens to be a violinist for the orchestra.  It was a general repetition, but the opera non the less.  Lucky was I to find that the same evening had been chosen for a protest by immigrants for equal rights.  The venue had been double booked.  I had to be picked up from a very busy metro station near the opera by the Frenchman.  I had decided to go with my instincts and wear tout noir! I seem to always want to dress in all black outfits, but with the veil of poisonous pollution that the late spring eve was offering in the city it seemed only appropriate.  Do not underestimate the power of matching various black pieces.  I had a dress that was entirely too short to wear without skin tight snake print spandex leggings (also black).  The only sandal that would accompany such an outfit was a satin black boot-like sandal with studs, and do not let us forget the uprising of the black nail polish of the summer called black lingerie by REVLON.  And of course such an evening would demand a silk black suit jacket. 


The Valkyrie was simply amazing!  The tale by Wagner is of a hero who is helped by a warrior woman Brunnhilde.  She is one of nine sisters known as the valkyries.  They are the warrior women of Norse mythology.  Ultimately, the bravery of Brunnhilde causes her expulsion from the heavenly kingdom by her father Wotan.  The tragic ending is of Wotan telling Brunnhilde that she may return no more.  Alike most of Wagner's operas The Valkyrie deals with many trifles of life: a daughter's love for her father, and her call to disobey in order to be true to her own heart, of illegitimate lovers, and of a man's duty to appease his wife.  The opera has also inspired Brazilian author Paulo Cohelo to write of his journey to see his angel with the help of warrior women in The Valkyries.  In the book Cohelo pays tribute to the strength of his own wife which isn't always exhibited and he takes mainly the role of the tragic hero Siegmund who is in pursuit of one thing, yet whose faith relies solely on the decisions of those around him.  The book's contribution to the reader is its ability to remind that we are all young, yet still quite foolish even as we age on.

The Parisian soir ended with what is possibly the fastest dinner I have eaten during an intermission, some champagne and a fulfillment of having seen a classic opera in Paris.  The air was full of bravado and it smiled at all of us, reminding us that Paris is never dull in the summer time and that good times were ahead.  That night I learned that when French people ask you what do you do, they always mean for a living.

This brief blog begins with "stumble upon" as an expression which serves as a tribute to me having today joined the site.  It is truly a great way to occupy the mind.  A site built to take advantage of the speed of delivery of information for the amusement and growth of the mind.

The Romance of the April Lonleyness

Here, an ode to ye great April.  You have arrived.  April's showers are not simply the means to the May flowers.  It ought to be that they are appreciated for their intrinsic value.  While March rudely awakens us from the hibernation of winter's wrath, April is the birth of our soul.  In the midsts of the rains which darken our homes, disguised in its depressive form comes inspiration.  While the roads seem winding and dreary, in fact we bid goodbye to the past and have this chance to be reborn again, baptized in the rains of Oster-monat.  This is the time of self.  At the heigh of lent for some we pay the utmost attention to ourselves.  What we consume, deny ourselves, and desire become studies done in darkened rooms with sounds of black and white movies.  Yes, there is something quite romantic hidden in the curtain of grey doom and droplets of water which etch at our rain coats.  We express our bravery as we dare counter the bitterness of the winter which sweeps every once in a while.  We are brave warriors in light coats, sunglasses which cover the larger part of our faces, and ballerina flats which tease cold winds with small peaks of our fragile skin. 
Personally, I see April as one of the top months during which I pay especially close attention to my wardrobe.  It allows me to mix the two polar worlds of winter and summer.  The blandness of the colors worn can be broken by this year's exceptional stream of soft pink flowers.  The blush on my face is particularly noticeable, which serves to tease the cold and let it know that I am aware that Le beau temps arrive!

L'Amour Fou

      On a very familiar flight to Paris by the name of AF 667 I found myself being promoted to business class.  For those who fly every once in a while and have not yet become a frequent flier I highly recommend doing this.  A free ticket won't come easy out of your miles, however, flight promotions and a bit of leniency when it comes to boarding times could never serve you wrong.  So, what exactly is behind those blue curtains?  The perks of business class include a glass of Champagne, much greater leg room, and a special closet for your coat.  On this particular flight I saw what I thought only happened in the movies.  A man tried to steal away in business class!  He was sly in his maneuver as he passes the whole row used the W.C. and then returned on a path a bit short.  He made himself comfortable in a chair and covered himself in a champagne- colored blanket.  It took the flight attendant exactly two minutes to notice the extra order of dinner.  This lean figure hesitated as he counted over and over in a repeated motion at the end of which his finger tapped his lips.  It was as if he were in a ballet production of 'does that man belong here?'  The head flight attendant was much more sure in her count and asked the man to leave after tugging on his blanket.
    The rest of my journey included some delicious plane food and a premiere of two movies.  The first of these movies was the documentary "Yves Saint Laurent: L'Amour Fou".  I knew that it was an obligation to watch this movie since YSL has been my favorite amongst all designers and a true inspiration for the alpha-male woman.  After the death of Yves Saint Laurent Pierre Berge held an auction for all of the art that they had attained during their fifty- year relationship.  At first I could not understand why a man, a lover would ever do such a thing.  The answer was clear.  I would be Yves Saint Laurent in their relationship.  Mr. Berge said that had it been him that passed away first Mr. Saint Laurent could never have held such an auction because he would feel that he could not live without the things.  Pierre Berge went on to talk of their relationship.  He spoke of the good and the bad and how love and the essence of a relationship could not be captured in material things.  This made me think.  I have always been difficult about the matters in my relationship that are material.  Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Berge were partners for fifty years and it was not a public marriage or their image or the things they acquired together that made their relationship theirs.  The relationship existed because they both existed.  I committed then, that this was the type of relationship I want in my life.  And then I realized that this was exactly where my current relationship was headed.