online paper.

I just have to share because I'm really excited about this!

I rigged up some magic tonight so The Pendulum's print version is now viewable online.

Check it out and be impressed.

I love the Internet.

sounds of silence.

I grew up on music. Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, The Who, The Beatles. Dinner time was often accompanied by the kind of music that could start a revolution. I heard lyrics about the Vietnam war, social injustice, poverty, drugs and sex. By the age of eight I had a pretty clear idea about the state of the world. And not just because my parents told me so -- everything I learned, I learned from Dylan.

But then, after the fall of Napster somewhere around 8th grade, my life filled with silence. I didn't buy albums for years. I couldn't be bothered to spend $15 on a CD. The iTunes era was yet to find its way to light, Rap and R&B ruled the airwaves and I was just ... bored with it all. I liked the idea of music, but was too apathetic to find anything to truly suit my evolving tastes. I flirted briefly with punk, because that's what all the other kids were doing, but it just felt too manufactured, a tad to whiny, nothing that reflected who I was.

Then finally, sometime this past summer, the music started again. On a seven hour solo car ride from North Carolina to Pennsylvania I had nobody to talk to, and nothing to do, but explore the depths of my iPod. Suddenly, in an instant, it was like music made me feel alive again. I danced -- or since I was in my car it was more of a wiggling bottom with arm flourishments. I sang. I laughed. I tapped my breaks. I opened my sunroof and let the wind tease my hair into giant afro of fuzz. The music was so loud that I missed 10 phone calls. The moment was one I won't forget.

Ever since I've had an insatiable appetite for music. I keep a little piece of paper wadded up in my purse with fractions of lyrics from songs I hear, and like, and google, then download.

This all brings me to the tragedy that occurred last week. After 6 years of good service my mp3 player died. I tried to revive it with that "restore" setting -- but no -- now it only loads A-M of my artists and then decides it's had enough.

The silence is beginning to creep back into my life. Oh horrors! Refurbished OLD edition iPods still come at $150 a pop. Ooph! Note to parents: if you're reading a "congratulations, you're an amazing daughter!" present would be OK with me right about now... ;)

decompressing europe.

There is so much to say since I last wrote that it almost seems hopeless to try and catch up.

I finally made my trip east of the Atlantic and had an absolutely phenomenal time.

London was red wine, warm smiles and wet ankles.
Lake Garda was mozzarella and rocket pizza.
Lugano was Italian conversations, friends, fondue and chocolate.
Milan was birds - lots of really nasty birds.
Bergamo was salami, cheese and ants.
Brussels was orgasmic pastries and leprechauns.
Maastrict was bicycles, bars, boys kissing and raw fish.
London the second time was old friends, odd friends, old habits, odd feelings.

It is impossible to sum up my trip in any sort of blog post. I did record it all in page after page of my travel journal -- now stained with red ink where blank sheets once laid. With every bit more ink, a little bit more life lived ... a little bit more to remember.

Somehow going back to placed I had been before brought about a closure that I have been missing. It helped me to realize that a quarter of the way around the globe really isn't that far away. Knowing that at any moment, given a bit of room in my bank account and a week off work, I can take to the skies and be in a different life within 8 hours -- it's utterly liberating.

I sometimes wonder if my love of travel means I am discontent with the life I am living now. Am I so excited and enamored with getting away because it releases me from being stuck in the hum-drum of my current existence? I thought about this a lot on my trip. About my overall state of happiness really. I think I may have gotten to the bottom of it: change.

Ever since I was a child, I have loved change. The changing from classroom to classroom, a new outfit, a quirky haircut. In fact, for many years of my life I would rearrange the furniture of my room every month or so. I've since stopped -- but not because my desire has dwindled, it's more of a time issue these days. I think that travel eases my itching for change. If only for a week or two, I get to try on a different life. How fantastic!

I also think that I'm still searching for something. I'm not really sure what it is -- maybe the perfect career, maybe the perfect house, maybe the perfect pastrami sandwich... but somehow I just feel like I'm missing something. So perhaps my love of travel is just one bit treasure hunt -- without a map.

Or an x in the sand for that matter.


Keep your eyes posted, I'll get a photo slideshow up eventually...