An Assortment of Mixed Nuggets

Every day, I sit at my desk at my temp job, thinking, hey, I don't have to do this for much longer. And then I think about a few other things, namely:

How much I adore the Val Jean quartet from the 25th anniversary concert. I mean, I listen to it about 5+ times a day. Never gets old somehow. I grew up listening to the Colm Wilkinson version, but to hear all these amazing singers together? Heaven.

How in the world am I going to handle my commute to my new job? It's a little far for easy access - over an hour by public transport and well over an hour driving due to traffic. Luckily, I don't start til nine, so that's not the end of the world, but either way, I'm not looking forward to that.

What an awesome website The Selby is. I know I already posted another apartment from here on facebook, but I may adore this one even more: http://theselby.com/2_14_11_OttoSander/

How did I eat that roast chicken so quickly last night? I mean, yeah, I was starving, but still, I think I broke some world records. Not that I'm complaining. I feel like a champ and it was delicious.

What the heck are canapes? Every time I read a '50s espionage novel (yeah, I read a lot of those), they pop up like daisies. Apparently they were a necessary part of the milieu at posh cocktail parties - like dry martinis and your favorite fish appetizer (myself, I prefer a good shrimp cocktail to smoked salmon). I've identified several verbs used in connection with them - they can be both "spread around" and "passed around". So are they a food? Napkins? Some sort of flashy party favor? You see, I've yet to find anyone actually using or eating one - they just seem to be shared about the party and then they disappear from the narrative. Now, drum roll please, I'm about to look them up:

"A canapé (Spanish/French for couch and known in Italy as tartina) is a small, prepared and usually decorative food, held in the fingers and often eaten in one bite" (Thanks, Google).

So they're not an actual thing then, simply a category. Ah, that makes so many confusing cold war cocktail parties suddenly so much clearer. My world has at last been righted, and while I feel slightly idiotic for not having figured it out without Google's almighty power, I suppose that's just one of those gaps in obvious knowledge that everyone (I hope) has.

One more thing - it blows my mind what a difference 7 hours of sleep makes compared to 5. I have got to start doing that every night.

Well, that's it I guess. Told you this would be wordy and rather un-inspiring . . . :)

Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop

I hate writing the first post on a new blog. I must have started this one over ten times already. I came up with some incredibly witty stuff, too, but then I’d start to worry, is it too pretentious? Am I trying too hard? So let’s just get down to it, shall we? First of all, I’m not going to put anything on here that is life changing or particularly insightful. I mean, it might sound like I’m trying to, but those are just my delusions of grandeur that I’m trying to manage, so if I dress up really obvious facts with overly academic rhetoric, just smile and nod and remember I was clear about that from the beginning. Moreover, I like to address my audience as though a)you actually exist and b)you care desperately about what I’m saying. It is quite likely neither of those things are true, but it just feels cozier this way, so in my head, you guys are fascinated by me. Also, fair warning, I’m really wordy.

Now, let’s get the origins of this blog title nice and clear. I love movies. Love, love, love them. Some of my most beloved films are those made by Preston Sturges and Billy Wilder. This blog title is sort of an homage to both of them, combining Wilder’s last name and Sturges’ Sullivan’s Travels (the Y in Wylder was simply so I could get the blog name). I put this blog together a while ago, but wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it until last week. See, something pretty tremendous happened last week. I got a job. And not just any job, a job I can quite honestly call a “dream job”. In a crazy, random, craigslist happenstance, I found a job that will call upon me to travel all over Europe, plan customized cultural tours, speak the languages I love most, and basically work my guts out doing something I adore. I start in about a week and a half and I’m scared out of my brain about it, but if living your dreams doesn’t scare you, then they’re not big enough, right? (I think I read that on a mug once, so it must be true) Well, all this travel should be recorded in a witty, urbane manner somewhere, and I have a blog called Wylder Travels just waiting to be filled, so I’m pretty sure it’s fate.

The great and terrible thing is, we humans are only on this earth for a limited engagement. The lucky ones, they get 8 or so decades of varying degrees of health and happiness. We all know it’s going to end, and every so often we go on a kick of “living like it’s our last day on earth” and maybe say I love you a bit more or go wind surfing. But then we realize the rent’s due tomorrow and we’re still going to be here, so we go back to living like our tomorrows are never ending. Here’s what I think I’d like to find – a space between the responsibility of a never ending succession of tomorrows and the freedom of a constant present. This blog will be a place where I talk about that search.

A few logistical notes: other than the life of me, there’s no real theme to this blog. I’ll probably do some “Classic Film Friday” posts reviewing some of my favorite films, there will be links to my favorite fashion and interior design, I’ll rant about totally obscure things no one else will care about, I’ll write some short stories, I’ll post a video or two of me singing, but mostly, I’ll tell you all about my wylder travels. Probably.

Lastly, as John Sullivan said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m not coming back till I know what trouble is” (Sullivan’s Travels). That’s the goal anyway.