Seasonal Progressions and Maturing Sessions

I spend so much time thinking about who I want to be when I grow up.
I want to write. I want to dance. I want to sing. I want to act. I want to make music. I want to sell books. I want to sew. I want to travel. I want to teach. I want to build things. I want to capture things.
I want everything, and I'm afraid that I can't have it all at the same time.
Do you ever catch yourself thinking about your future plans in a rotation?
Like, every summer you see your life going one direction, and it's the only direction that makes sense. Every single summer, you want to grow up to be this one person, who is talented, and worldly and objective and always loving and never without adventure and catching all of the wonderful opportunities that fall into their lap, because that's what Karma or Fate has set up to grace them with. Every summer, I'm planning on becoming that woman. It's like summer is who you want to be, because she takes the leap. I want to be Summer.
Then Fall comes and ruins all of that, with reality, and different ideals. I don't know if I like them better.
My objectivity about situations and life and love disappear. Slowly, but surely, I feel pain more and take time to focus on things in a more realistic and blunt way. It's like removing the proverbial rose-colored glasses from in front of your eyes. The truth is, I see what's in front of me then. Right that moment, I see all of the truth about who I'm not in the face of who I wanted to be. Did I ever really want to be Summer anyway? Fall is so much more realistic, with her step-by-step motions and tried-and-true outcomes. How would I know if Summer was going to be all that I thought she was in my projected image anyway? Maybe I'd get there and feel like I had skipped steps for something that turned out to be something that I didn't really want. Where do you go from there? Fall might not be so bad. Fall seems to be a good foundation for many things, without any of the risks. Fall seems...safe.
Winter comes slowly at first, and then all at once. And when I'm with Winter, I'm stagnant, with a million plans, and not one of them taking shape.  I want to be the same person who I am now, but Greater. The same, only more developed mentally, with more money, and more stories, and less sensitivity to what others think of me. Yet somehow, I turn into the frozen Mississippi; solid and unmoving on top with everything rushing underneath. Winter becomes tiresome quickly.
Spring is the one who is curious and watching, willing to be tugged in whatever direction the fresh, cool wind will take her. Things will take her fancy, and she'll follow them for a good deal of time, obsess over them, learn much about them, and then when she lulls, they'll be tucked away, waiting to be pulled out another day. But Spring never has any concrete plans of the the Long-Term persuasion. At least, none that she has thought about enough to put into action.
I rotate like this, or in a similar fashion, every single year, taking only a few different directions.
All I know is that I'm always influenced by everyone around me. I spend so much of my time around people who have made their whole world out of so much of their own raw being. Their talents seem to pave the way for anything they could ever want to do. \I look at myself and want to be so much of that.
I'm just so afraid I won't be that.
Or worse, if I ever do become that, I'll be too busy looking at the Inspiration to appreciate where I am.
I think I'm afraid of not knowing how to grow up.
Much love, Best Wishes
-Bridge

Prodigal Blogger Returns....maybe for good!

I was sitting at dinner in the Student Center today, when a friend of mine told me that she checks my blog from time to time and is always sad to see that I don't update it very often at all.
"you're a spunky writer," she said "and since I don't see enough of you, sometimes reading you is fun!  I wish you wrote more." and it occurred to me that she was right! I loved having this blog, but now it's high time that I proved it. I don't know exactly what I'm going to say on it. All I know is that in my life I have just put away social media sites, and it may actually cause me to get a great deal more done than I was admitting I could.
With homework, working two jobs (campus costume-shop, as well as a bookstore cafe) and being an active member of the campus Theatre Department, I must admit that I wasted more time than I should thinking about social media sites and the like. Not something I'm proud of, as there are so many things I always thought that I might focus on while at college.
I should very much like to be able to properly pick up sewing once again, for me. I love vintage fashion, but I find that finding the actual pieces I imagine is easier said than done. For all the thrift stores in the area, I find that I can rarely find a jem to take home with me, of any kind. No shoe, no dress, no bag could be seen as acceptable to be given new life. And buying replications of a basic style is hugely expensive, of course. Why, then, can't I just sew my own dress? I love sewing and it will always do to have some practice samples lying around. In fact, I've recently decided that I like costuming so much, I might have to figure if I can do something to my major in that respect. The only problem with this is that the school that I go to is primarily an Engineering school and my theatre department is so small that we don't have a teacher for the only costuming class we have in the curriculum. That's not to say that we won't always, but at the current moment, we don't, and that's something that we could really use. I was considering maybe taking an internship at the Renaissance Faire in the costume shop and using that towards a credit. I think it would work rather well, and I know that I would love it.
I also always wish that I had more time to write. More-so than blog, even, but at the current moment, even that is enough. I basically just failed NaNoWriMo, unsurprisingly. Not for lack of trying, but rather for lack of time and any type of stimulant that might successfully keep me up to do the work that would go into it.
Maybe I'll end up finally using this blog, like I planned.
Much love, best wishes :)
-Bridge

Bat Symbols and the Pride With Which We Still Wear Them...

On the weekends, I work at the Bristol Renaissance Faire in Kenosha Wisconsin.
This is a place more-or-less completely over-run by nerdy and geeky people on an every day basis. (and yes, I mean every day. Even during the week, when there is no faire, those who live temporarily and permanently onsite are all card carrying members of the Geekdom world. They work at a Ren Faire, for heaven's sake.)
When the Dark Knight Rises came out at midnight, and the shooting occurred in Aurora, I was upset for the families and people affected by this tragedy, but also for the film itself and the outcome of that night. I thought, and was correct, that this would be an end for a lot of the costuming that people do in celebration of a new movie and a midnight premiere, for security reasons; this would also shine a very negative light on many of those who attend Midnight premieres and partake in the costuming aspect because it would imply that they may think they are or wish to be characters in the film. James Eagan Holmes dressed in black ballistics and died his hair before his crime, and when he was apprehended, he claimed he was the Joker.
We're not all like James Holmes.
But these were reasons that we could mourn for, on the side of the tragedy of the victims.
This meant that our fandom was being frowned upon for the evil of just one of our number.
I thought it would be hard for some to represent themselves as a fan of the Batman, now. But I was very wrong.
This past weekend, among the crowds of people, I spotted probably close to a hundred Batman logo tee-shirts and backpacks and even some drinking vessels (that means cups), among the throngs of garb , belly dancing and chain-mail clad patrons, over the course of just the two days.
In every color, and throughout every age group, I saw many people sporting the Bat Symbol.
I recall turning to a cast mate and commenting about how happy I was to see that many folk in the symbol and Jaqui (my castmate) said:
"that's the community doing their part to mourn and still show their support for our Dark Knight."

If I wasn't supposed to remain in costume, I would most certainly have gone back to my car and changed into the Dark Knight Rises shirt I had inside that I got at the Mind Frame midnight premiere.

Much love, best wishes,
Wear the heck outta your Bat Symbol!
-Bridge

Dark Knight Rises and the Sanctuary of the Picture Palaces

I'm sure many of you got a chance to see the newest and supposedly final installment to Christopher Nolan's Batman Trilogy. I, like many of my fellow DC fans, bought tickets ahead of time, slipped on a catsuit, made a leather mask and stayed up late with my boyfriend and a few close friends to see Bale take on yet another strife, saving the city of Gotham once again, and perhaps for the last time, as the Dark Knight, Batman.
The film had me standing and fangirl-ing in my black cat ears by the end, and raving about it outside in the parking lot until everyone else but us had left.

It was when we arrived home and I got a chance to check my tweets that I finally read the news of the Denver, Colorado Dark Knight Rises shooting, in which at least 10 had been reported killed (at the time-later it would be declared 12) and more than 30 injured (later numbers ranged at 59-70), by a masked and armored man in possession of no less than four fire-arms. The shots were fired about 39 minutes into the film, and the patrons in the theater at first believed it to be special effects of the film. This was only after a form of irritant (some form of teargas) was released on one of the four theaters. The bullets passed through the walls of one of the theaters and into the one next to it, hitting a patron in that theater.

James Holmes was arrested outside the theaters moments after.

Reading the tweets and news reports about those injured and dead because they happened to be out enjoying the Cinema late at night for a special event makes me rethink the phrase:
"At the wrong place and at the wrong time", because people like Jessica Gwahi (@JessicaRedfield) and her friend Brent, who was with her at the moment that Jessica was shot twice and later passed on; people like Alex Sullivan, who died taking a bullet for his wife, had EVERY RIGHT to be there, as did every single person sitting in those seats. Enjoying something that was supposed to be safe. Something that was supposed to be fiction.

In the 1930's and '40's, the movie theater was a haven. A place to escape the struggles and strife of the everyday world. You didn't have to be trying to keep the bank from forclosing on your house, and the War didn't have to have taken your brothers, sons, and husbands away. Dorothy always made it home, Shirley Temple always gained a family, and the good guy always defeated the baddies.
A Theater is a safe place. A sanctuary. The one place in this whole world where the ones who sacrifice and perish, and the ones who fall victim are always okay in real life.
That safe place, that line between fiction and reality has been blurred, today. The terror that was to stay behind the screen was unleashed, and that may be one of the cruelest elements of this event- the lack of security regarding what's real in the refuge that is the cinema, and in our own minds.
What I fear most about this event, is not the guns used, but is the deception. And, curiously, the disappointment.
I try not to think about this, but I can't help but realize how excited it was for these movie-goers to be seeing this film at midnight. It was supposed to be fun. We were supposed to be free from the worries. Some of us will now will never get to have worries again.
It's the contrast between the excitement they felt and the truth of the events that have me swallowing tears.

Much love, best wishes, and do your best to atone for the mistakes in our species by doing something selfless this week.
I love you.
-Bridge

The Rites of Passage: This year I can....?

I'm just sitting here in the library at the computer, (which is an incredibly awkward way to sit at a computer, seeing as how I always assume EVERYONE is reading over my shoulder and EVERYONE is watching me stalk my new Ren-Faire castmates) when it occurs to me that there was a time when I couldn't use the computer in the section of the library where I now sit. I had to use a computer in the children's room.
And oh, how I wanted to use a computer in the reference section, just like the grown-ups.
This made me think, also, about how every age for an adolescent (or a child, really!) is a landmark
Here's some that I can name:

Age 4: the first age that I can remember ACTUALLY SUBSCRIBING to. I remember when people used to ask how old I was, I would hold up 4 fingers like I was only a year away from renting a car.
I don't honestly remember conciously knowing how old I was before that.

Ages 5-9: Bit of a blur. I was homeschooled. I had no age-defined privliges.

Age 10: The double digits. Why this mattered in particular, I don't really know. I was a 4th grader. I was a hopeless loser as well.

Age 11: I still say that my mom stole my letter from Hogwarts. I know one was sent. But I wasn't the "Chosen One", so I guess they didn't send more than one owl my way.

Age 12: One more year 'til I'm a teenager! And I'm officially a Middle Schooler now! Well, I was a 6th grader last year, but it hardly counts... And I always called it Junior High, even though my school district had stopped calling it that and had it adopted title of Middle School around '96. But Junior High sounded better to my Wonder Years, Boy Meets World, & Dawson's Creek fed mind. I knew/KNOW the name is coming back.
I was so retro, I was hipster. Even at age 12.

Age 13: Officially a teenager! I could see PG-13 rated movies (though I never did). I was also, the top of the school, seeing as how I was an 8th grader, and next year would be walking the thoroughly guilded halls of the High School.
Big leagues now, baby!

Age 14: I was a freshman...BUT I ALSO COULD NOW USE THE COMPUTERS IN THE REFERENCE SECTION OF THE LIBRARY!!!!
Age 15: I could legally have a part-time job with hours that ranged from, like 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. limiting the hours to 8 a week. Not that I did have a job! Also: in 6th months, I would be allowed to go for my permit! Which ment that Driving Lessons began and thorough Awesome-ness was right around the corner!

Age 16: I could officially, legally get my drivers license, if I passed the test...which I didn't...5 times...delaying me from getting my license until...

Age 17: Yep. I got my license this year. BUT! I was also:
Allowed to watch Rated-R movies (which I got into even when I was 16)
An adult Sim
An Adult Wizard
Allowed to donate blood (which I also didn't do until later in life)

Age 18: A legal adult...I haven't done anything note-worthy.
Technically, I can move out, but I'm a student and my room is decorated.
I can be charged as an adult for any crime I have committed, but I haven't committed any...
I actually donated blood this year, but I could have done that at age 17.
If I was a guy, I'd need to register for the Draft, but I'm a girl.
18 isn't as eventful as it seems...

Well, that's that then.
I really am no different from 4-year-old me. The only exception being that I drive a car, I can go to scary movies, I look a bit taller, and a pint of my blood is potentially flowing through 3 people's veins.
I'm not a whole lot smarter, though.

Much Love, Best Wishes, and Yours Cordially,
Bridge

Sub Count: 10

It's Leap Day. The title of this post has nothing to do with it's contents...

So I've been away for a long time...
Let me sum up my past month and 10 days:
1.Me and Tyler didn't work out. Do your best not to look too shocked.
2.I was Wendy in the musical Peter Pan. Not to toot my own horn, but I rocked it. Proof:

3.I was cast as Sandrine & Hope in my community theater's performance of Almost, Maine.
4. I got Bronchitis
5. I auditioned for the Bristol Renaissance Faire. I was supposed to drive 2 hours to get there. It took me 3 both ways.
6. Bronchitis because a Sinus Infection due to poor care of my Earthly Vehicle (my body)
7. Found out I got into the Bristol Renaissance Faire as a member of RenQuest (Hurray!)
8.Was invited to spend a week this June in Ireland.

So...Lots of stuff have been going down.
I'll get back to you with other coolness sometime soon!
Yours Cordially,
Much Love, Best Wishes
Bridge

Sub Count: 9

Dear John Green...

I've read every one of your books. Most of them several times.
And I have come to a conclusion.
You have written, through 3 of your 5 novels, and through 3 of your many characters, a variation of a recipe for the girl living my life thus far. 
Although I know there are probably 30,000 teenagers who are saying the same thing that I am right now, I feel like I'm on a different plane. 
I'm sure they do as well.
But my being is different. My story is different. And though I have always been an avid reader of many books, what you posses and command in your writing, while it is yours to do so (i.e. before it reaches the hands of it's readers) is the ability to write people. Not characters, but human beings. 
I am, in a manner of speaking, what one would get if one stuck Pudge (Looking for Alaska), Hazel (TFiOS) and Margo (Paper Towns) into a blender, pausing only to remove small, unimportant details like, say: testes, cancer, an 1/8 of the melodrama. 
With friends who change our lives by ending theirs, by committing me to a humiliating (yet nostalgically comical)1. 3 years of failing a drivers test, by tossing me in with one boy who broke my heart but opened my eyes, and another still who will tell me his life story by writing it in dry erase marker on a lazy Susan of a whiteboard in the center of a circular table in the library of a college neither of us attended....I sufficiently feel that my whole story is adequate enough to be the plot to one of your books. 
The only thing I'm missing: the epiphany that each being comes to in your novels. What makes them see what we don't.
What makes them...novel.
So I appeal to you, John.
Write me an epiphany?

Much Love, Best Wishes
Bridge

Things are going right, and I can't explain it...

Okay, so everyone who has followed my blog/twitter for the past year knows that I am a stranger to good fortune. Nothing goes my way: Not in relationships, not in family life, not in jobs, not in opportunities and CERTAINLY not in scholastics. (I like learning, just not their way.) In short, last year sucked. Big time.
Well, God and fate must have gotten together and decided that I've had my fair share of misfortune, because this year,
EVERYTHING IS GOING RIGHT!
and I don't know how to cope.
First of all, back in December I got the role of Wendy in the musical. But the actual show is in February, so I'm counting it as this year. Also, I got confirmation on going to LeakyCon, which is being held in Chicago this year, and there is no way that it's ever going to be closer to us than it is now. I was recently told to audition for a part in the cast of this years Bristol Renaissance Faire, something that everyone knows that I've been simply DYING to do for years. And last, but certainly not least, I went to Dorian a week ago, which is a vocal music festival where I sang with an outstanding 1,200 voices. That's way more than who I sang with in Carnegie Hall. (Yes, I know I still owe you all that blog post.)
While I was at Dorian I made some truly fantastic friends. We called ourselves the Wolf Pack and were so named: Alpha, Beta (me), Delta, Gamma, and Omega. There were also a few hunter nicknames mixed in.
Here's a picture of most of us:

However, while I was there, I met a boy. (can you spot him?)
Now, I'm not usually the type of person to get swooney about boys. In fact, I'm not swooney now. But I can't say that I don't like him.
Honestly, what's not to like.
The thing is: he's totally wonderful, and he really likes me. I just don't quite understand why I'm suddenly interesting enough for a guy like him.
I guess we'll be seeing where this takes us, no? 
Much love, best wishes!
Bridge


Sub Count: 4

My the Force, and the Tardis, be with you...

My the Force, and the Tardis, be with you... by bridgetincognito featuring skinny leg jeans

Dsquared skinny leg jeans, £314
Madewell vintage hosiery, $13
Converse hi top shoes, $45
Black handbag, $58
Pendant, $28
Star jewelry, $5
Nagellack - kläder och märkeskläder online - NELLY.COM, £149


This was what I wore to school today. Literally. Well, the only exception was the necklace. Instead of being the Tardis Key, it was the Doctor Who logo, made for me by an artist friend. Anyway, I hope you appreciate the TSWGO bracelet I added!

Day 2 of 2012...I've decided to become a blogger!

So I've spent all day in bed with the flu, but having consumed nothing, it might as well have been just a headache. I'm not going to test my theory, however, because tossing one's cookies is generally not an enjoyable way to spend an evening.
Instead, I've spent all this day exploring Polyvore. Which I love. Because it is SO COOL! and I like making cute little combinations of outfits.
Now, I'm no style guru. In fact, I'm so hodge-podge in my wardrobe that most would say that I'm not fashionable at all, though I do have some pretty little pieces. Only rarely do I use them to their full affect.
I'm not even going to say that one of my resolutions will be to be a little bit cuter in general. Mostly because I think that's redundant and not being able to fill out this goal will just piss me off, as I know that I will happen into school wearing jeans that are uncomfortable and a top that doesn't fit right due to my long waist.
So we might as well forget the whole thing. 
But for now, I'm stalking my cousin Maureen's blog and boy is she just so cool! I actually had no idea what Polyvore was until I just HAD to figure out how she made those pin boards! So I've got to get back into blogging, because I now remember how cool it is.
On another note, I need to make a post with some pictures of my FANTASTIC trip to New York City!
It shall include: 

• singing in Carnegie Hall
• Meeting Michael Buble (not kidding her, guys!)
• seeing Bonnie and Clyde on Broadway!
• being on the Today Show

So stay tuned!
Much love, best wishes & Happy New Year!
-Bridge

Perfect Afternoon

Perfect Afternoon by bridgetincognito featuring a long wool cardigan

Maje long wool cardigan, $370
Dsquared jeans, £314
Short socks, £59
Proenza Schouler suede tote bag, $1,963
Olympia Le Tan clutch bag, $1,520
Ugo Cacciatori silver jewelry, €200
Sunglasses, £14
Mugs - Owl Mug - Paper Source, $15
Dressrail.com - Leather Look Lace Up Worker Boots, £4.99
Hemp Tea Bags - CannaMint, £4



Even though this winter hasn't seen more than a few flakes of snow, and the holidays have come and gone, I still must admit that my eagerness for spring isn't quit here yet. 
What better way to spend a lazy January afternoon than curled up with a warm irish sweater and a good book-that's being remade into a movie again with Carey Mulligan and Leo DiCaprio-?

May the Odds be Ever in your Favor! 74th Hunger Games...

May the Odds be Ever in your Favor! 74th Hunger Games... by bridgetincognito featuring skinny pants

White Stuff green tunic, £29
French Connection leather jacket, £163
H M quilted jacket, £30
Skinny pants, $62
TopShop cotton pants, £38
N.d.c. made by hand kitten heel boots, $368
ASOS pocket bag, $1,960
Joe s Jeans canvas leather backpack, $69
Forever21 cotton belt, $6.80
Dressrail.com - Leather Look Lace Up Worker Boots, £4.99


The movie is coming out pretty soon, so I figured I'd make a Hunger Games costume set.
I know that the movie will feature short jackets and black shirts with black trousers, but the book features a totally different arena uniform: tawny pants, a green blouse and a long, hooded black jacket.
really, I thought I'd do my best to stick with the book, but it turns out that nobody has long, hooded black jackets.
Oh, well! Make do!

Bonnie Parker, that's me

Bonnie Parker, that's me by bridgetincognito featuring a wool beret

Fat Face cable knit sweater, £25
Marc by Marc Jacobs a line skirt, $248
Oxford shoes, $35
FOSSIL leather shoulder bag, $95
John Lewis Women wool beret, £7.50
CO OP Barneys New York skinny belt, $95


This is actually almost exactly what I wore on Christmas eve, the only difference being the bag, and the exact sweater.
I love Bonnie Parker's whole fashion outlook from the 1930's. Whimsical young actress meets a girl on the run.
'You'll lose the Blues, and you may lose your heart'

Tally up & Cash in, 2011...

It's been an eventful year.

• I quit my job at the bakery.
• I got a new job at the Pizza Hut
• I developed a kind of plan for life
• I experienced true pain
• I grew up, in more ways than I want to admit.
• I lost a great friend
• I miss my best friend
• I got my driver's license
• I decorated to escape
• I changed my mind
• I grew empathetic
• I developed new admiration
• I played a pirate
• I played a dumb blonde
• I played the IT Girl
• I played the one who's whisked away. 
• I ran away from an interview
• I turned down an honest invitation
• I reminisced.
• I had my first relationship
• I ended my first relationship
• I successfully stayed friends with my ex.
• I made plans.
• I didn't get to keep plans...
• I hid a dress that was half made.
• I grieved.
• I threw off all medications
• I found the dress, and decided to finish it when I'm ready.
• I stabbed myself with a pencil, leaving a mark that will never go away.
• I sang in Carnegie Hall.
• I met Michael Buble.
• I saw my favorite Broadway Show live: Bonnie and Clyde.
• I became more fond of tea than I am of coffee.
• I put away childish things.
• I flew for the first time
• I was able to look down again. 

I sincerely hope that next year will not have the kind of excitements of this year. 

Much love, best wishes...

I just fall more and more in love with APT

Last night, Tom, Anna and I went to see Of Mice and Men at American Players Theatre. 
 Best $21.50 ever spent. 
The drive up was about an hour and a half, which wasn't bad with the pair I was with, even though my radio is broken.
Anna took some pictures of me driving. That was nice of her, I guess? 

After a bit of a silly drive up, and a VERY slow Subway employee at making our dinners, we were afraid we'd be late for the show. Especially because we still needed to buy our tickets. 

Thankfully, we got our tickets (great seats, as well), and made it into the theater JUST before it began.

It was magic. 

Everything about that show was exactly as I remembered it from the book. I loved it so much when I read it to begin with, but this level of magic and devotion was something that made me cry. 

Steinbeck has always been important to me, but now more so. 

Riley was reading East of Eden when I met him. I remember vividly how old, and worn his copy was. He said he'd taken it from his high school library. There were due date stamps all over the inside of the falling-off cover.
That was the day we became friends. 

When I heard that Of Mice and Men was playing at APT, I knew I had to see it for him.
He would have loved it.

Watching the show and reading the book were two distinctly different experiences. While I was reading it, I was caught up by the wording and the characters. They were interesting and diverse from that which I've known. The events of the story were sad, but acceptable. Everything happened because it had to. 

Watching the play was so much more moving:

When Curly's wife went to see the men, because she had nobody to talk to, George explains to her that she'll cause them nothing but trouble by saying:
"You're like a round pebble. If a man comes along and trips over ya and falls and breaks his leg, now it's not the pebble's fault; but he sure as hell wouldn't have tripped if ya hadn't been there."

This comes into play when she and Lenny are sitting in the barn, and both of them have monologues that intersect with one another: Lenny about George and the rabbits, and he remembers things that George had been needing to tell him repeatedly all through the show, and Curly's Wife about her alcoholic father who she should have run away with.
She was Lenny's pebble. If she hadn't been there, then he wouldn't have killed her, and he wouldn't have had to run from the men, and George wouldn't have had to shoot Lenny. 

The best part of the show was the last scene, when the men split up looking for Lenny: it started to rain lightly. 

As Jim DeVita, who played George, spoke to Lenny, played by Brian Mani, and told him that they would still get their little place and live off the fat of the land, DeVita told Mani to take off his hat, and feel how nice the rain felt. 

George retold the old description of their place, while Lenny looked over the horizon trying to see it. As the ending of the worn description came, Lenny said he could see the place. He could see it, just over the horizon. 

And with a painfully moving expression, George shot Lenny. And the lights fell. 

And the rain stopped. 

When the lights came up and the actors took their bows, I realized I had been crying. 

I want to work here so bad. 

Much love, best wishes.

Complaining about September

It was a humid, sweltering day in early September. The type of day which taunted with the feeling of ripe August. The type of day that made catching your breath while standing outside seem difficult. This was the type of day that Bridget hated.
The type of days she actually liked the best were cool, sunless, and rainy, where fog hung in the horizon and over  the roads, where the air smelled of wet earth, cool pavement, and had hints of either coming spring or fall, it didn't matter which. Those days were nothing like this.
What Bridget hated most about this day was the absolute inescability of the heat, which made her face feel moist and soiled and her head throb. There was no place to go where you could be free of air that felt like dozens of bodies packed in a small room, despite your silly air conditioning. It was out of doors, and in; country and town. At least with the stubborn, bitter Wisconsin winter, once you reached your freezing point,  you could always be sure that somewhere, you will be warmer. Even if you enter an enclosed space with no heat, the promise that eventually you could be warmed by your own body warmth is a promise of some kind, no?
Anyway...
Much Love, Best Wishes!

The biggest waste of gas, money and expectation for having an enjoyable evening ever: A Prose, by Bridget Kelly

reblogged from sometime earlier this summer...

Soooo…

You meet a really cool person, and then you want to hang out with this person after you start talking to them and you realize that indeed they are as, if not moreso, cool as you thought. So, you plan to go see a movie.

Okay. Movies are great. I don’t have a problem with movies. Except they are usually easier to enjoy when you are sitting with people you have shared more memories with than a few text messages and the day you met. Just saying.

So Yeah, I’ll see a movie with you…oh great, a movie…Oh, you want to see it at AMC in Fitchberg?…I’m gonna have to drive aren’t I?…Well yeah, I suppose I know how to get to Belleville…seriously??…it’s only at 40 minutes away…you have NEVER driven 40 minutes to do ANYTHING, Bridget, let alone see a movie that is showing in the theatre in YOUR CITY…meet you at- Subway?…Where the hell is their Subway, more importantly: Why does my life revolve around Subways?!?…Yeah, I suppose it’s fine if we go with your friend Nate and his girlfriend Sophia…Woah, so this has suddenly turned from a movie to not only a date, but a DOUBLE-DATE!!!…Erm, yeah. So I should call you when I get to Belleville…Which I am driving to at 9:30 p.m., therefor it is freaking DARK!!!

So…Driving, driving, driving. Driving.

So you finally get there, pull into a sketchy abandoned subway/family dollar parking lot, and get out of your car, only to get into your friend’s car. His friend Nate and his girlfriend Sophia exchange the minimal amount of pleasantries to make you feel like you are accepted on this outing, even though THEY were the ones who your friend invited AFTER he invited you.

Sophia’s general demenor is that of a flustered, excited little bird, who happens to be a bit slutty. She chomps on her Spearmint gum, which you can smell even though you are sitting in the front seat, and giggles CONSTANTLY about whatever dirty/stupid/guy-ish things Nate is whispering in her ear. Nate is to be discribed in one phrase: The Unfortunate Douchbag. He’s the rare type of douchbag that gets the name because he makes ‘funny’ jokes about his own sexuality, playing on the idea that he is gay and has the hots for your friend, even while his hand has mysteriously disappeared from sight in the back seat with Sophia.

Sophia and Nate’s conversation eventually stops, but you aren’t relieved….Now they are making out. Audibly. And you can still smell that DAMN SPEARMINT GUM!!!!!

The front seat action is much more formal. And probably more comical, too, from an outsider’s veiw. Yes, I know that rhymed… You sit in the passenger’s seat, hands clasped, legs crossed at the ankle, looking out the window because you can’t think of a single thing to say, and you are already a little mad at the situation. Eventually you come across a topic in your head: Graduation.

yeah. Graduation. I’m sure he’s only had to talk to every relative, past teacher and adult-friend in his existance about that. But that’s all you have, so you chew the fat about that for a little while.

A very little while. Then you are REALLY out of things to say.

See, Bridget. This is the reason I TOLD you to think of something else to do. Hell, BOWLING would have been better. He even LOOKS like a good bowler!

After about 4 months, you arrive at the theatre. You make a lamn joke about how your car got keyed at this theatre last time you were here. You shouldn’t have. Now Sophia’s laughing like a hyena. Her hair is also far more out of placed than it was when she got in the car. And the windows were rolled up.

In the theatre, it’s completely empty. You all buy your tickets. keep in mind, that you pay for your own. oh, so this isn’t a date….and you find your theatre and seats. You and your friend are the first two sitting…Where is Sophia and Nate? Who knows?

They emerge just before the movie plays. The Green Lantern. Okay, so this movie doesn’t suck…just the people I’m with. Your friend turns around and talks to the couple once in a while and you get that feeling that you get when you sit with your brother’s friends and he’s not there. Out of place. Lost. but there is really nothing that you can do about it.

Flash-forward through a not-terrible movie. You leave. Get to the car. Sophia realizes that she left her wallet in the theatre. Yeah, I bet she did. Of course, she and Nate BOTH need to go retrieve it. it’s a two-person job.

Que you, sitting with your friend in the car. Okay, we can listen to some music. Good. That’s something that we’ve always talked about. He starts talking about his band. You ask if there are any gigs coming up that you could go to. Nope, no gigs right now. Dammit, that was more of a conversation bit than an actual question.

Sophia and Nate are back. Hair looks like she just woke up from a nightmare. Somehow, she STILL. CHEWS. GUM. Seriously, right now you are reminded of that ever-present piece of gum in the movie Nick and Norah’s Infinate Playlist.

Drive back…

More awkward lack-of-conversation on the ride back. More making-out in the back seat.

your friend asks the other two what they thought of the movie. You had said it was good, and you KNOW a good movie when you see it. It’s not on the top of any list, but it didn’t suck. Sophia said she could have seen it on Disney Channel. She’s young enough for you to ask her “You watch that alot, huh?”

Your friend laughs. Nate chuckles. Sophia looks confused.

When you pull into the sketchy subway/family dollar parking lot, it’s 12:15. It’s also cold as March.

Your friend thanks all for coming to see the movie. says goodbye to Nate and Sophia, and then you extend your hand for a firm shake, to avoid that awkward hug that was inevitable.

You get into your car, pull out of Sketch Lot, and starts cussing, the whole 40 minutes back home.

And then you realize you also have to pay for gas tonight. You are literally on Empty.

Well, needless to say I’m not doing THAT ever again. And I hope Sophia gets some type of disease.

Boys Who Drunk-Text their Feelings.

It's the night before school starts and I can't sleep, when a friend who I'd gone out with once on a tragically failed date texts me.
He admits that he's very drunk, and proceeds to tell me that I'm very pretty. And that he feels stupid telling me this, but he's liked me since he first saw me at forensics (well, what do you know, kids? ANOTHER forensics boy.). He first saw me and BAM. He liked me.
Boys are weird.
I mean, I thought he was attractive, too, but I could have told him that without being drunk.
He said he felt dumb telling me that he thought I was cute even when he WAS drunk.
That's sad.
But at least he was honest. And maybe a little shy.

Much Love, Best Wishes!

Pottermore, this is just ridiculous....

So I stayed up all night on the 2nd., and 3rd days of Pottermore early registration, and made it.
NOW WHERE IS MY EMAIL!
I even did that thing that they told me to do, with the:
"Just try to log in through the site!"
Nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.
Filch.
My head is gonna explode from annoyance.

Bridget and the Red Gallon Can

I hate cars. Hate them.
Even Leigh, my carefree 96 Neon, cannot be considered my favorite item.
Now, I have even more reason not to like them. Namely: Gas gauges.

So today I was running errands. I went to the bank to make a deposit for 15 bracelets that I had to send to a woman in Brodhead, and then I walked across the square to mail said bracelets at the post office, leaving my car parked in front of my bank.
When I got back to the bank, and tried to turn on my car, it wouldn't work. It took 3 tries to get Leigh's engine to flip and then I was moving.
When I say I was moving, I mean I drove to the first stop sign, and then my car start to make this putt putt putt sound, and slow to a crawl.
I managed to get a few yards and find the nearest parking space-a handicapped space, thank you very much- before Leigh stopped dead in the middle of a busy square on a Farmer's Market Saturday, at which time I called my father.
He suggested that I was out of gas. I looked at my gas gauge: not quite empty, but I did need to fill up, so I figured I'd feel really stupid if that's the whole problem and I wasted $20 on a check-up and would then spend another $20 on gas. I decided to take his word for it.
After a call to the police department, explaining why they shouldn't give me a ticket for parking in a Handicapped space, I set off, on foot, for the BP station.
BP is not a long walk, but anyone who saw my Tweets would know that I was complaining because it was hot and it was August and I hate walking where cars can see me. When I got there, I grabbed an overly-expensive Red Gallon gas can and made my way to the counter, where a man eating a danish and drinking a coffee made a half-hearted attempt at either humor, or helpfulness. (I'm still not sure which, his mouth was too full.)
With my full Red Gallon Can, I walked the automotive Walk Of Shame back to my car, past people smoking on their porches who called out: "Out of gas?" to my back.
I didn't know how to use the gas can.
My mother showed up and proved equally worthless at using the gas can.
And then I remembered that I have friends at the Farmer's Market.
With a little help from an old man who knew a thing or two about cars back in his day, Leigh got a gallon of gas.
The next part is fun:
So the old man told me that I still needed a lot more gas, and that I ought to go back to BP and fill up, so upon his advice, I put in another $10 worth of gas.
And then I can't find my $10.
So now I have to call mom again, who doesn't answer her phone as a rule (I like that it's one of the 5 pillars of my mom's secret religion, not Islam, but Mumism), and after the 6th call, I ask her to buy my gas.
"Here's my key, there's my car." I say to the cashier at BP, who knows what a shitty day I'm having. "I'm gonna go find my mom to get money so I don't have to steal your gas."
Trekking back to find my mom's car, I find my money, which I still have, because I'm poor, and mom offered to pay.
Much love, best wishes, and PUT GAS IN YOUR CAR!!!!!