So tomorrow on your way

Awoken before 7 by an immense clap of thunder, my immediate thought is that there’s a building collapsing next door. I’m mostly awake after that, quiescent in bed through the pounding of huge drops on the window and frighteningly nearby lightning strikes.

It’s the first day of spring. You couldn’t have guessed from the weather . . . → Read More: So tomorrow on your way

Next year’s Airwaves!

This is unquestionably a pretty egregious case of my overplanning, but Icelandair has very reasonable package deals going for flight/festival deals from cities including Boston, Toronto, Denver, DC, New York, and Seattle. There’s really no excuse for not going! Anyone interested? I’m definitely going, but I haven’t decided yet whether I want to just go . . . → Read More: Next year’s Airwaves!

Lost your way?

I slept until noon on Saturday, an extravagance of which I was not even aware until I finally roused myself and looked at a watch in my bedroom. I walked downstairs, still a little disbelieving, to find my roommate stretched between our sofa and end table. “I thought about waking you,” she said, “but . . . → Read More: Lost your way?

Dance me on and on

It is rare that a Friday night sees me doing something other than hanging out with cats, roommate, and a movie, so I was rather surprised to find myself double-booked this past Friday. Rather than pick one event or the other, I went to both, and I’m glad I did.

The first was my work . . . → Read More: Dance me on and on

Let me get close to you

It is a warm, grey day, and I am in a warm, grey mood (pictured at left: a warm, grey cat). The weather is unseasonably pleasant–I find myself wishing I’d worn a T-shirt as Lexie and I walk into DC and along the Potomac. We stroll in comfortable silence, not talking much. When we sit . . . → Read More: Let me get close to you

When I remember to forget

In the corners of my day, in that twilight time between true sleep and actual consciousness, I am back in Iceland. I walk along the ocean in Reykjavík, reliving my desktop background. When I wake up I find myself touching my hair, convinced that it’s encrusted in salt from the Blue Lagoon.

This week marks . . . → Read More: When I remember to forget

I can feel it

“One day”, sings Björk, “it will happen. One day, it will all come true.” And I, too used to seeing myself in songs, reflexively think “this is for me,” then turn around and look at that statement and do a double-take.

Because I realize, watching this tiny, dynamic woman in an enormous red wig, that . . . → Read More: I can feel it

For a second my mind started drifting

The festival starts today, and the first concert I want to see is in a little more than an hour and a half. Right now I’m in the hostel kitchen making what I suppose is either a very early dinner or a very late lunch, it being 4.22 PM. On my first day here I . . . → Read More: For a second my mind started drifting

I was born on a train

Travel never seems real to me until it’s already happening. I become more and more wound up about impending trips while not actually believing they will ever arrive. So today I toss things into my “bring to Iceland” pre-packing pile and listen to artists who I’ll be seeing at Airwaves without any sort of understanding . . . → Read More: I was born on a train

You are nothing like your photo

And then, suddenly, it’s autumn. One day it’s eighty degrees; the next, I wear boots, corduroys, and a jacket as I walk to work, and still feel chilly. Building management apparently had advance warning about the seasonal switch, though: our lobby has abruptly switched from freezer-cold to oven-hot.

Life has been so full, so suddenly. . . . → Read More: You are nothing like your photo