So this is ridiculous.

A Roma

So last weekend I went to Rome with my Michelangelo, Caravaggio, & Bernini class. We saw about a million things in one day, running all around the city. It was enjoyable, but long. Then, Melissa, Hunter, and I stayed the night and did some other sight seeing on Saturday. For some reason, I went on strike from my camera for the weekend and took no pictures. I just didn't feel like it. But Melissa did, so it's ok. I have this weird paranoia that if I don't journal or take tons of pictures, I'll forget my life. I'll forget these places and people and experiences. It was nice to take a break from that paranoia for a couple days. I didn't even bring my journal to Rome; that is so unlike me.

Going to Rome last weekend was the first time this semester I visited somewhere I had been before. Four years ago I went to Rome with my dad. I rememberd a lot from that trip, which surprised myself--like streets and shops and stuff. And it made me miss my Dad. I'm sure I got annoying, "That's where my dad and I bought souveniers . . .My dad and I went inside the Coloseum last time . . . That's where my dad and I took a cute picture . . .I saw Michelangelo's Moses with my dad last time . . " I'm sure everyone was like, "Ok Laura, you were here with your dad, we get it."

Speaking of. I would like to apologise before hand for the many references I will inevitably make to Italy in the next year. I'm sure that will get annoying for all of you. "We get it Laura, you lived in Florence for a semester. You don't have to talk about it ALL THE TIME."

Back to Rome. First, here's a picture I've dug up of my Dad and I in Rome quattro anni fa (us on the Spanish steps):

And now here's Melissa, Hunter, and I in Rome last Saturday (us in front of the Coloseum and . . . a Jeep. It was an ancient Roman Jeep, I assure you):


What I really want to do is scream. I don't want my roommates to pity me, or tell me they understand, that they screwed up in the darkroom at such and such time blah blah blah. I just want to complain and huff and puff and scream.

I just wasted the last three hours of my life. For my photography final, I've been taking pictures at Florence's Santa Maria Novella Train Station. It was a beautiful day today, crisp autumn weather with a clear blue sky, so I decided to walk out there and take a roll. So I did. I was feeling pretty good about these 36 pictures, and so went straight to the darkroom to process the film. That's when things went downhill. To make a long story short, I stupidly exposed the whole roll to light while in the darkroom, but then processed it anyway--hoping maybe some pictures could be salvaged. Well, they couldn't. It was all black. Bleh. So then I decided to print a picture from a past roll. I just wanted one good print so that my time in the darkroom wouldn't all be for naught. Well, I didn't get a good print and my time was all for naught. Naught naught naught.


Let's not talk about it anymore.

A Florentine Thanksgiving

I love doing drastic things, like chopping of my hair. People stop you in the halls to comment, some whom you've never even talked to. You get lots of comments on your blog. You don't recognize yourself in pictures. It's great. And having short hair is a lot of fun. I like coming out of the shower and just shaking my head around. When my hair was long it wouldn't do anything but fall in my face when I did that, but now it flies all over my head. I love it.

Thanksgiving turned out wonderfully. We all cooked. We couldn't all fit in our kitchen, because there are nine of us, so we dragged a table into our biggest hallway. Some people, like Jenny, spent the WHOLE DAY in the kitchen. And I'm not one to exaggerate. I was in and out of it all day, helping out when I could and I made green bean casserole. And did I mention that I didn't tell anyone I was chopping off my hair on Thanksgiving? So on one of occasions of me popping into the kitchen, my hair was about eight inches shorter. People screamed. It was fabulous.

Jenny and Whitney, our two main cooks.

Me being helpful-ish.

All of my roommates in the aforementioned hall.

After we ate dinner, we watched a Thanksgiving episode of Friends and then ate pumkin pie. Yum yum. We had a lot of leftovers, but unfortunately, Melissa and I were in Rome Friday and Saturday and so now all of it is gone. Sad day.

And now it's Sunday and I have nothing to do and I will relax.


My first away from home. We're having a big Thanksgiving dinner at our apartment tonight. I'm in charge of the green bean casserole (hey Julia). And bigger news. I chopped off my hair!

Che strano! How strange! It's feels so different, but good different. Light and healthy and bouncey. I'm very excited about it. Im also excited about putting it in cute little pigtails.

let it snow let it snow let it snow

So this weekend I was in a snowglobe, pretty much. I went to Vienna, Austria with my school. It snowed, and was beautiful. That's me with my new snowman friend. We also went to an outdoor Christmas Market that got me super stoked about Christmas. It was magical. I ate roasted almonds, such as the picture illustrates.

And this time next month I'll be home.

And I've also come to be more into hats, if you can't tell.


There has been a wonderful new development in our apartamento. We now have heat! Benisimo! Hallelujah! It has come at just the right time, too , because today is rather rainy and cold, but I'm snug and warm in my heated apartment. Yessss.

Yesterday morning, I went to our coffee shop for the first time by myself. I usually go with a whole troop of my roommates, but I had to finish a book for lit class, so I decided to do so there, da solo. Aside from all the italiano surrounding me, it felt like home--sitting in a coffee shop by myself and reading; I haven't done that in awhile. I was sitting in a booth, and a random Italian dude sat across from me at one point. The only thing he said was to ask if he could sit there (in italian), and then he just sat quietly while finishing his coffee and pastry. It was a bit awkward actually; I was glad to have a book to hide behind. I snuck a glance at him at one point though, and he was actually pretty cute. Too bad no other words were exchanged between us. A little while after he left and right before I was to leave, a woman set her stuff down in the seat across from me as well. So perhaps that's a normal thing to do here--invade someone else's bubble.

And here's me and Whitney in rainy, cold Prague.

So I was just reading my old blog posts. I thought to myself, "What was Laura thinking this time last year?" and so looked. I looked at October and saw the post where I pondered how many people actually read my blog and if I had any unknown stalkers. i had everyone who read the post leave a comment, just to say "Macaroni." They didn't need to reveal their identity, or say anything else, just "Macaroni." I want to do that again. I want to know how many people are reading this. So if you are, even if you don't know me and just stumbled across my blog, do it. Macaroni. Do it!

You better. I'll know if you don't. I'll just know!

Czech it out!

Oh life. How wonderful art thou. So many things to discover around every corner.

This weekend Whitney, Melissa, and I did Prague. That city is ours now. I had a lot of fun using the word "Czech" in punny ways. And I walked a lot. More than I've walked since I've been in Europe, and that's a lot. And I froze. A lot. And it snowed! And I met cool people. And I took 303 pictures. Here's a sample--the cutest picture of the three of us. Because you'd rather see us, than Prague, right? If you want to see Prague, just Wikipedia it. If you want to see us, you're at the right place.

The wisdom of Ani Difranco

"I had leave the house of self-importance
To doodle my first tattoo
To realize a tattoo is no more permanent
Than I am, and who
Ever said that life is suffering
I think they had their finger on the pulse of joy
And the power of transcendence
Made its grace a practice we can employ "

So this dove and me, we're going to be together for the rest of our lives. When I grow old (hopefully it will come to that) and wrinkly and my hair is gray and my skin sagging, I'll still have my little dove. She can remind me of who I was, or hopefully who I still will be. And of Italy. And of Chio, the Brazilian Italian who needled her onto me. And perhaps I'll get tired of explaining to people what "pace" means. "No, I didn't misspell peace . . . No, it's not a homage to Pace Picante sauce, though I do love Pace Picante sauce . . .No, I'm not particularly found of pacing . . ." It's peace. I lived in Florence when I was 21.

And here is a picture of me and my roomies on Halloween, sans Melissa who is taking the picture, and Isabel, who owns the pink hair I'm wearing.

None of us really dressed up as anything in particular. We just dressed fun. My pink hair created quite a reaction wherever I went.


So this morning, me and two of my roommates left our apartment to get our usual cappuccino and usual pastry at our usual cafe, but did not see the usual site when walking down our stairs. We saw three firemen, sweeping water down the hall, water pouring out of Maria's apartment. Maria is our underneath-neighbor. She's little and old and lives by herself and doesn't speak any English and yells at us in Italian all the time. Anywho, apparently her apartment flooded this morning We don't know the story, but it was an abnormal site--the firemen sweeping the water out of our apartment building, while Maria is yelling at them. And her coat rack in the hall. I feel bad for the lady. And then Matteo, the guy who works at our usual cafe, forgot our cappuccini. We just sat there for a little while, waiting--"He's not making the cappuccinos. Should we say something? He's helping that old man. It's been awhile . . Maybe he knows the old man? Maybe the old man is sick? Should we say something?"--until finally Matteo looks at us and says, "Tre cappuccini! Ho domenticato! [Three cappuccinos! I forgot!]"

It was just a weird morning.

The rest of the day was fine. It's nice to actually get stuff done for a change, unlike this weekend . . . when I watched a lot of movies and Family Guy . I also took the big touristy double decker bus this weekend. You get a little red headset and are driven around the whole city and the headset tells you about Florence in the language of your choice. I had just been aimlessly walking around by myself (it was a beautiful day), saw the bus, and just got on. It was a nice diversion. And a nice change from walking everywhere.

I don't know what I'm going to do with myself when I'm home and have my car again. That'll be strange. And sweet.


Blurg. Blah. Blu.

I didn't have class Thursady, I never have class Fridays, today is Saturday, and I haven't been doing much else except not having class. We've watched a lot of Family Guy. And today Whitney and I went to Pisa. It's only an hour and a half away by train. We ate pizza, took the obligatory pictures with the tower, layed around in the grass, and came back. It was a nice day. And now I'm curled up on the couch watching "Hot Fuzz." I think my brain is about to ooze out of my ears. Tomorrow is Sunday. Perhaps I'll actually do something. Perhaps not.

I got some new ink in my skin. Cat's out of the bag. I wasn't going to tell people until I got home, but I just couldn't stand it. It's sweet. You'll see it when you see it.

Tonight, our roommate from Taiwan, Ady, made us sushi and fried rice. Exquisite.

Just laugh.

I just have to laugh. I just have to laugh so as not to yell.

At first the problem was people not washing their dishes. Piles of dishes would just chill in the sink for days. People made angry signs to each other to vent their anger. Everyone was complaining but no one was washing. Now, there are less dishes in the sink. But no, the problem's not over. You see, we don't have a dishwasher like you spoiled Americans, we have a sink and a drying rack. And now, as we empty dishes from the drying rack, we find dirty dishes. So someone is not washing their dishes and just putting them in the drying rack. Still dirty.

So I just had to laugh as I was rewashing someone else's dishes. It's just so ridiculous you can't not laugh. Laughter or anger. I'll chose laughter. Ok, maybe a little of both.

So something new I've learned--floss is very durable. Over Fall Break Whitney's backpack strap broke, and she fixed it by sewing it back on with floss. My new purse just got a little tear, and so I sewed it together with floss. Floss is the new duct tape.

I painted my nails black for Halloween. They match my computer.