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...

broadcast news.

So, I don't know how many of you are CNN watchers but I just have to share a little ridiculousness that has been going on during the primaries. I present to you, Anderson Coopers Pizza Pie Chart.

I'm not sure what it is that prompts broadcast newsies to incorporate unnecessary bits of technology, but it's kind of cute. And cute in the sad pathetic sense, not the "aww baby" sense.

I'm so glad I'm in print.

lucky guess.

So lately I've been freaking myself out a little bit.

When I'll be talking with somebody and they hesitate to think of what to say next, in my head I say almost exactly what comes out of their mouth after their hesitation is over.

When customers come into the ice cream store I work in, I can guess at about 75% accuracy rating what flavor they will choose.

When asked to guess a number out of 100 last week, I wrote down 12. But then had a second thought, so changed the 1 to a 4 making my number 42. Turns out I hit the nail on the head and guessed exactly the right number.

When I was playing "Guess Who" last weekend, I looked over the cheerful faces of the twenty some characters and would guess one before we'd even started asking questions. I was right 2 out of 3 times.

When I opened my fortune cookie this afternoon it said something like, "Luck follows you where you go, so go far."

In one instance any of the above incidents would seem normal. I'd chock it up to blind luck and move on. But there have been just so many in the past week that it is almost hard to avoid! I'm not the type to believe in the supernatural but hmm ....

I'll keep you posted if I hear voices of dead presidents or start walking through walls or something cool like that. *crosses fingers*

speeding bullet.

Last night I had a nightmare.

I was driving in my car, with a barrage of police cars behind me -- lights flaring, sirens shrieking. Nervously I checked my rear view mirror. From the sky, you could see my little white car speeding ahead of at least a dozen police cars. Helicopters from the police department and news stations circled overhead, zooming in on my car and making speculations about my sanity.

Quick! I thought, turn around!

Grasping my steering wheel, my knuckles turned white. My teeth were clenched. My eyes squinting. With one swift movement I turned the wheel to the left, cutting my car across the grass median, leaving tire marks on the road. My tires squealed as I passed through onto the pavement on the other side of the road. Behind me, the grass median was torn from my quick maneuver.

I checked my mirrors. I had lost them. Yes, in my dream changing directions on a wide open interstate is enough to shake even the most diligent of police officers.

I decided to pull over and get off the road -- otherwise they might find me.

I found my way to a truck stop. Sketchy beyond belief. Men in red flannel shirts sat at electronic gambling machines while their trucks idled outside. I think I'll drive home, I thought. Surely the police won't look for me there...

When I left the truck stop, my car was gone -- along with my wallet, purse and cell phone. I was utterly stranded. I was a fugitive. I started to cry. And then I woke up.

-------

This all stems off a speeding ticket that I got in REAL life this past Friday. 80 and in a 65. Ouchies.

regret on credit.

I hate making mistakes.

Particularly the kind where, had I thought for a few more moments, could have been avoided.

It's the noun in Latin that I declined as plural rather than singular, an embarrassing slip of the tongue in a conversation, a mispronounced word, calling someone by the wrong name... the silly things I do every day. Mostly the consequence is a few moments of "doh!" or "I hope they don't think I'm an idiot..." but the other day I started thinking about the bigger mistakes I've made in my life. What about the mistakes that involved weeks of wrong decisions -- a series of "doh's!" that only come to light in hindsight?

Looking around me at my peers, it seems that all of us have these streaks of stupidity. A relationship gone awry, a regretted kiss, a failure to stand up for ones self. Dotted among my many friendships, I have heard so many stories of regret. And -- just like nights at the movies, shopping sprees and electric bills -- these regrets are placed on credit ... left to be forgotten for now, but sure to resurface for payment later.

I say this because one of my greatest life regrets has just surfaced. After collecting interest, and simmering for a long while, it has come back to consume my hourly thoughts and nightly dreams. This time around I know I can't refile my regrets to the back of the cabinet. It's time to pay for my mistakes, confront some situations and say some apologies. A hard thing to do, for sure, but necessary this time around I think.

I tell myself that this is just the hard process to being a better person.

But it is also making me realize the attractive allure of denial!

the edwards effect.

Word came this morning that John Edwards has dropped out of the Democratic race after his string of lack-luster third place showings. The news wasn't entirely shocking after I saw his subdued enthusiasm last week in South Carolina. Though at that point he was still running, a passion that once sparked his eyes had faded. He looked tired - defeated even. I'm sure he knew then what came to light this morning.

With Edwards out, the Democratic race has narrowed to two -- spare a Mike Gravel who might as well just end it. But now that Edwards is out, there is about 15% of the Democratic voters who are up for grabs. Fifteen percent is HUGE. Whichever candidate is able to capture Edwards loyalists will almost certainly ride a high tide to National Convention.

Though there are varying opinions on who will benefit from Edwards departure form the race, I am certain that Obama will come out with the upper hand.

In the Democratic party -- and really in America for that matter -- there are two types of people. Pro-Hillary and Anti-Hillary. She is a very polarizing candidate. Up to this point, Anti-Hillary Democratic voters have been split between Obama and Edwards.

Though Edwards and Clinton have closely aligned platforms, I do not have faith in the intelligence of American voters. We too often are caught up in personality to see what each candidate stands for. So though Edwards supports might be most satisfied with Clinton in office, I feel the majority of them will support Obama.

We'll just have to see what happens on Super-Duper Tuesday.

I should probably make it known that I am currently not supporting any candidate. Firstly, because I vote in the North Carolina primary, and by the time it's my turn to cast a ballot the Magic Number will long have been reached. Secondly, because these candidates are the same. If you really sit down and look at Obama and Clinton, it is hard to find any hardline differences between them. And what's more -- if you throw McCain into the mix, things are even more blurry. Aside from his deplorable stance on the Iraq war, he's not too far off from his liberal enemies. And if you look into his past, you can get a feel for what he REALLY believes -- not just the platform he's running on to make it through the Republican nomination.