...In which our heroine is delicate, but potent.

I love Black Friday. It's a tradition that my dad and I go out in the pre-dawn, and go buying, not shopping. I can't remember when we started doing it, but we always end up at Sears, in the tool department, and there are few things I love more than trying to pretend to be interested as my dad explain what a certain type of wrench does, or why $9.99 is a good price for it. Today in total I picked up: a vacuum for $25: originally $45, the first two seasons of Mad Men for $30: originally $80, and a pair of jeans/black pants for $56: originally $96. I know the whole thing is consumerism at its worst blah blah blah, but as long as you don't dawdle and know what you're going for, it can be quite a productive day, and all before 10 AM.

Thanksgiving was perfect and wonderful. Something else I look forward to is sitting on my Grandma's floor, plate in my lap. There's is a tiny house that is insanely hot, but I love it. In the past several years, we've combined Thanksgivings and all my family under one room is so awesome.

You know me well enough by now, but I feel that I should introduce you to where I come from. These are the people that have shaped me into who I am, supported me, and cared for me. This is my family, and for them I am truly thankful.

This is my Aunt Brenda, Grandma Jo, and Uncle Gene. Jo and Gene's names are actually Daisy and Arley, but we're country folk, so they have nicknames of unknown origin. I spent a lot of time in this house as a child, being cared for my Grandma Jo and my Nan. Grandma Jo made all of the delicious food yesterday. They have all given me an appreciation for hard work, sacrifice, and family.



These are my cousins: Michael, Jessica, and Nick. I'm the oldest, and the shortest. Mike is 19, Jess is 13, and Nick is 16. I'm the oldest - and the shortest. We spent a lot of time playing and fighting in that living room as little kids, but as we've gotten older, it's been interesting to watch all of their personalities develop. Mike is at UC studying pharmacy, Jess is learning the drums, and Nick is a budding culinary whiz.



And now we move to my mom's side. That's my Uncle Bob, who I've called Uncle B forever, and Grandma Mary Alice aka M.A., or Memaw. Uncle B is responsible for exposing me to lots of good art and culture things, especially in downtown Cincinnati. He's constantly volunteering, and one of those annoying people who asks you to do surveys for Cunningham research. I pretend Memaw was like Betty Draper and she gave me some awesome 1960s overcoats last night. She's a good Irish Catholic woman who always tries to feed me and tell me about how handsome Clark Gable was.



And my parents, Ken and Mary Beth. I love this picture of them so much. My dad and I have an especially close relationship because our personalities are so alike and he does wonderful things like give me lucky wheat pennies, play me obscure vinyl records that I end up loving, and push me just enough to keep me on my toes. I am glad that I was always just geeky enough as a kid that I could appreciate things like when he'd take me to comic shops or let me watch Blade Runner. He's often a man of few words, but he makes them count. My mom and I are also super close, but in a different way. She's taught me all of my good groupie skills - the meaning of concert pockets, and how to stake out a band. Everything I know from the kitchen comes from her, Memaw, or Grandma Jo. She has always been 100% honest with me, even as a child, and because of that, I tell her everything when I talk to her daily on the phone. Both of them have been so loving and supportive that I know even when I fail, they'll never lose faith in me. I have been extremely lucky to grow up in a house where sarcasm and pop culture rule equally with silliness and support. They've always accepted me just as I was, and let me be exactly who I wanted to be, which is an independent young woman living in Chicago, being a geek, and blazing my own trail.

It struck me last night how much I love my family when they're all under one roof. I am so lucky. I remember so many good things about Thanksgivings past, and those who've come and left us. What I remember more than anything else is love, and laughter.

Don Draper knows...this is probably the most beautiful speech from the series thus far.

...In which our heroine has a case of the Tuesdays.

Some thoughts for a Wednesday morning...it might be noon, but it's morning to me:

-I woke up with a headache because I dreamt something about my parents getting divorced, or slept incorrectly on my pillow. It's a grey, yucky day so I slept longer than I probably should have.
-American Dad is so terribly unfunny, but I had to watch a full episode to see cartoon versions of My Morning Jacket and Zach Galifianakis and their wonderful (albeit animated) beards.
-My shoot for my final film is tomorrow. I am doing my best not to freak the fuck out. A delightful classmate named Pam is lending me her gear tomorrow and thus I am saved another day by the filmmaking gods. Wish me luck.
-Speaking of tomorrow, the schedule is - 8AM-5PM: make a movie, 6PM-9PM: go to class, 10PM-5AM: take the bus home. Caffeine, don't fail me now.
-I CAN'T WAIT TO BE HOME.
-I'll be home until Sunday afternoon. I hope I get to see everyone, but there's always someone that gets neglected and I feel bad. There never seems to be enough time when I'm home, but I'll try!
-Who wants to go Black Friday shopping with me? I'm a pro - my dad and I go most years. I want Zack and Miri and Pineapple Express for cheap from Best Buy so there is more Seth Rogen in my life.
-I want to make pies for Thanksgiving, but won't be home in time :( My mom has proclaimed it's high time for bacon to make it's way onto the table.
-WAFFLE HOUSE. We'll meet again this weekend, hopefully post midnight, with those silly boys I spent so much time with in high school.

Spurned by a conversation this weekend, my ten favorite albums of the decade not in order:
The White Stripes - Elephant
Radiohead - In Rainbows, although Kid A is a better album
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Girl Talk - Feed the Animals
Rilo Kiley - More Adventurous
The Arcade Fire - Funeral
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot it in People
Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
My Morning Jacket - Z
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes


And my ten favorite albums of all-time, in order:
The Cure - Disintegration
Pixies - Doolittle
Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Nirvana - Unplugged
Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin IV
Roxy Music - Avalon
The Replacements - Tim
Radiohead - In Rainbows
My Morning Jacket - Live at Bonnaroo 2008 - maybe shouldn't count since it's a bootleg, but oh well.

Best of's for Neil Young and The Allman Brothers Band also rank, but I thought they should be disqualified for being greatest hits.

I'm going back to Ohio, but my city is gone.

...In which our heroine looks ahead.

I have survived dear readers. As of today, I'm no longer deemed contagious by Columbia College and back in my dorm. Which was a total fucking mess when I returned thanks to my ever-delightful roommate. Alas, I am feeling better by the day, and honestly just want to get back to all of my classes at this point and start playing catch-up.

I register for the classes tomorrow that will make me a junior, which seems terribly odd. In a 5AM fever delirium I figured out a loose plan for the next couple of years: Continue majoring in Screenwriting, minor in Women and Gender Studies. Second semester senior year, go to LA and see if I can sell a script or get an internship before graduating. If I can't, I'm going to join Americorps and go to either Seattle or California, spend a year doing that and living, maybe applying to grad schools. It all sounds easy laid out as such, but I'm sure there will be a bunch of delightful speed bumps along the way.

Speaking of growing up, I am being pretty lame considering in three days I won't be a teenager anymore and won't have as much leniency for bad behavior. Stupid flu. I bitched a lot about 19 being a boring age, but it has by far been the most amazing, beautiful, creative, heartbreaking, stressful, and sad year of my life. I've grown in ways I can't explain, and some I can. I fell in and out of love, was wildly creative, adjusted to living in a big city and away from home, expanded my consciousness through methods legal and otherwise, and most of all decided what it is I'm meant to do in this life - at least I hope so. 20 sounds so old! Where does the time ago - I saw a commerical for the tenth anniversary of "...Baby One More Time" and nearly puked.

I am deeply embedded with the citizens of Twin Peaks. The first season is as perfect as television gets, and oh so wonderfully weird. I can't believe it was broadcast on network back in the day. The whole idea that a single mystery can bind twenty plus hours of a story is brilliant. And all this praise comes knowing even what the outcome of the show would be. Speaking of perfect television, Mad Men's season finale was fabulous. After a slooow season, Matthew Weiner amped up the stakes. I've come to realize that I hate Betty Draper with a fiery passion. It was nice to see subtle moments of character development for Don, Peggy, Pete, Harry, and Roger. Oh, and JOAN IS BACK, BITCHES. I was so glad to see her in her mod 'lil black pants and sweater-set, looking fierce as always. I also realized there are at least four people on Mad Men I'd make out with, now that's good TV! Something about television has appealed much more than film to me lately, maybe it's the Production II blues, but I really like the short-form and how well the nuances of character can be explored.

On a final note, I thank my grandfather and all the veterans for their service today. I can't imagine how much worse the horrors he saw in WWII were than what he actually told us about. Though I may not always agree with the cause, I'll always support the men and women who are willing to sacrifice and dedicate their lives to support it. Thanks, veterans, for doing something I never would or could.

I couldn't find an acceptable video of Neil Young's "War of Man" so this'll have to do.

...In which our heroine has a requiem.

Like another lady I know, the blogs have been frequent lately. I should be reading a Howard Zinn article, but let me take a moment to lament for times gone by.

My dad always calls me on Mondays. He doesn't have to work until 4, and I don't have class. We talk about nonsense mostly. He asks me what I've been reading, watching, listening to. We talk about Mad Men, What Would Tyler Durden Do?, movie trailers, what have you. I look forward to these talks. As he says it, he taught me how to be cool, and now I keep him hip.

Today he broke my heart without even trying. Dads are good for that. He had knee surgery last week and thus can't work. He asked me for a sizable amount of money last week since I got my refund check, and what am I supposed to say? So I get to pay the phone bill for a few months.

That wasn't what broke my heart though, it's just money. He asked me about finding him a picture - for the first edition of A Game of Thrones, his most beloved and most valuable book. There is a picture of us, with the author, George RR Martin, on my desk from when we got it signed when I was a sophomore in high school. I asked him why, and he said so he could put it on eBay. And then my heart broke. Those, above all else, were the series of books that showed I was an adult. When I got to read them, it was his acceptance of me as a grown-up. We went to Dayton for the signing, and ate Uno at one in the morning on a school night. It's one of my favorite memories with him, getting those stupid goddamn books signed. "What do you want me to say, Kate? We're just scraping by," he said. I don't know what I wanted him to say.

He talked about selling my oboe and my clarinet, which I could give a shit about, but he talked about selling the others in the series, all signed. I bit my lip to keep from crying. Yeah, they're just books, but these are the things I get sentimental about. I hate that it has to be like this, that he ran our finances into the ground, drained my bank account to pay bills, so that when things like this or wisdom teeth or my grandma getting sick happen, it becomes dire straits.

But it's my dad...I know it kills him to ask for money, or at least I hope it does. I have to become financially independent but I can't say no to my parents. I think the truest test of growing up is realized your parents have just as many fucked up problems as you do, and that they are not the gods we build them to be.

This is one of those days I wish I was five again and my biggest worry was where the matching pink pumps were for my Barbies. I should stop bitching - one of my mom's friends has super invasive brain cancer and isn't doing well. Things, as always, could be worse.

We stopped talking about the book and started talking about what a weak year it has been for movies. He says he's going to watch The Hurt Locker, which I sent him. We talk about Kathryn Bigelow, female directors. I tell him I'm done editing and he says he's glad I'm so on top of things. I found a picture of the book, I tell him where to find it. I tell him to feel better and he tells me he loves me, monkey,...and not to forget to pay the phone bill. What was I supposed to say?

...In which our heroine returns.

Home again, home again. It gets stranger every time, I swear. Everything is so oddly familiar, yet so foreign. This isn't my life anymore, but it still doesn't feel weird to settle back into old routines.

Before coming home, the family was in town for the weekend. The big deal was to go to a Reds game at Wrigley Field, which also happened to be my first Cubs game. Honestly - and maybe this comes because I walk by it so often - to me it was just another stadium, just another baseball game. This is a sacrilegious statement I realize, but I just wasn't enthralled anymore then I would have been at a Reds game. I used to love sporting events, but the older I get the less interest I have. Who knows why...

I also had probably the best meal of my life, in the hotel restaurant. Osteria via Stato stresses family style Italian dining, but we opted for individual plates. I had a caprese salad, sea bass with green beans in a sweet corn broth, lots of bread, and chocolate/hazelnut gelato. It was absolutely outstanding and not too much of anything. We all tried everyone's dishes - pesto pasta, ricotta gnocchi, and zucchini risotto - and nothing about the entire meal was anything less than awesome. Even my mom's coffee with amaretto, which is nothing remarkable, was better than usual.

I have no big plans for the week - just to enjoy being home. I always find it hard to spend as much time with everyone as I want to, because there's just never enough time, but I'll do my best.  It's so much warmer here than Chicago and I have no warm weather clothing anymore, quite the conundrum. It can gladly stay in the 80s for Lollapalooza.

The Pixies are karmically in tune with me - they'll be in Chicago during my birthday week, on November 20-21, with the former date being the 2 year anniversary of Frank, my tattoo.