tan sweatshirt.

apologies for the explicit nature of this post.

a text message.
old friends. good friends. in town. wanting to go to "the i-beam."
ugh. the gay bar. known for sleazy clientele, sleazy evenings.
but i obliged.
i've been single for 6 months.
"i want to find myself." i said back then.
but here i am, just.......lonely.
just wanting someone to be with. someone to care for.
and it's not sleazy, not contrived or immoral.
just someone to talk to, without ulterior motives. someone to care for, to watch movies with. to cook dinners with.

after a quick scan of the bar, only one fellow caught my eye.
he was there, in his tan sweater, looking debonaire with a quiet confidence.
completely attractive. perhaps a guitar player?
definitely the artistic, creative type.
completely attractive.

completely talking with someone else.
dissapointing, yes.
but the two of us locked eyes. my heart raced as he smiled.
but continued talking.

"let's go dancing" my group said.

let me divorce myself from accepted stereotypes.
i enjoy dancing. i enjoy letting myself go. being free. just....feeling the music go through me.
i danced. i enjoyed it. i let loose. i was a fool!

and then i noticed him.
tan sweater. he was watching from the sidelines. and the guy he was talking to clearly followed him into the room and was trying to continue conversation.

was i drunk, or was he staring at me?
was i drunk, or was my heart racing?

he was there, on the sidelines. he followed me.....?
i tried to maintain sporadic eye contact, but the lights and shadows were too much.
the music, louder and louder.
i look over my shoulder, we made eye contact.

again, my heart races.

and i look back.
and he's gone.

gone.

he was there for about an hour. and then he and the guy he was talking with were gone.

did they fall into the sleazy category?

in any event, the endless romance i was building in my mind just fell into pieces.
instead of chatting for hours, instead of cooking meals, instead of getting to know him,
i left alone.
completely alone.

buzzkill.
where will he be tomorrow?

revolutionary road

rarely do i own up to analyzing movies.
i leave that up to matt.
i leave that up to michael.
because they are brilliant at that, and sound brilliant doing it.

frankly, they know what they're talking about. not me.
i know what i like, but i cannot sound intelligent in the realm of film criticism and analysis.

revolutionary road.
kate winslet, leonardo dicaprio. instantly, i roll my eyes at the re-assemblage of the titanic cast. no doubt, this movie is aiming at the now-20somethings that worshipped the "ok" film at the time. i recall the buzz, and i recall dismissing it, almost instantly.

so there i was, seeing (insert film) at (insert theatre) when i was was surprised:
rarely do movie previews engage me like this one did.

the preview, in a word: beautiful.
the music, the cinematography, the film-stitching, the dialogue, the use of helvetica.
i saw the preview and instantly thought "i need to see this."

not to mention that it deals with the blandness and monotony of suburbia, which is something that my thesis deals with. and therefore has been on my mind as of late.

look at us. we're just like everyone else.
we've bought into the same ridiculous delusions.
this idea that you have to settle down and reside for life.

(insert movie synopsis, available on any major site about the film)

i decided that i would take some customary "brian time" and see the film.
i was homeworking all day.
i was tired.
i was weary.
i needed brian time.

so i looked up times, i got into my car, i paid my money, i bought my popcorn and soda(i never do this), and i saw.

i saw revolutionary road.
i loved revolutionary road.

it was so powerful, so complex that i just needed silence on the whole drive home. i couldn't talk, i couldn't listen. i just needed to think.
i need a drink to cope with the emotional rollercoaster i have just been on.

emotionally complex movies are my favorite. my absolute favorite.
and movies with smart dialogue.

i think i loved every minute of it. beginning to end.

the emotional complexities of 1950's suburbia, presented beautifully.
the emotional complexities of marriage,
of neighbors,
of trying to appear normal,
of hard decisions and dreams.

i have since downloaded the music, bought the book, and illegally downloaded the film.
and i will be first in line to buy it on dvd.

we can't go on pretending that this is the life we wanted.

musee du louvre au paris

"so, brian, what's your favorite memory?"

ah, the dreaded question.  my mind instantly asks itself how i can get out of this situation without sounding like a pretentious asshole.

but how can one encapsulate a moment so intense in just a sentence or two? encapsulate an evening in a sentence?

language has so many barriers.

i am a planner. 

when it comes to trips, i schedule, i book, i plan, i research, i print maps, i know what the hell i'm doing. i would like to pat my own back and say "i'm great to travel with," but i fear my need for planning can be stressful to be accompanied by.  i may be painting myself as a hitler-type 'planner' type-a personality that does not accept deviance...not the case.  i'm always up for a brewski, suggestions, etc. i suppose you could say that as long as everyone involved is having fun, i'm ok.

but really, i'm pretty carefree as long as i know where i am, and that i have the ability to get home. call me an idiot, irrational, etc.... it's just who i am.

needless to say, traveling to europe was a little rough on the planning department within my brain.

paris. the first stop. we arrived three days early to take in the city of romance before jetting over to napoli, italia (the asshole of the world). so, paris was the testing ground.

we passed the "overseas" test! after a day, our bellies were full, we slept in beds, we had water! european vacations are no sweat! i will say that we ran into many stressful situations, such as how to get into the city via the metro, how to hop on a bus and know where it was going, how to order a sandwich at some "penne di pain" restaurant, and how to overcome the stupid american stereotype. i was so fresh! i was so new! i handled everything wrong in paris.

we were a big, bumbling tour group, hellbent on seeing the eiffel tower and mona lisa. idiots.

how we got out alive and on our plane, i will not know.

thank god for the 90 pound french lady that we later dubbed "the magical fairy."

she got us out alive. without speaking a lick of english.

(insert the next 9.5 weeks of gaining foreign experience)

going overseas makes you rely on body language and universal truths,as opposed to language.  it takes a while to communicate with someone without using language. but it is life changing.

SO, there i was, 10+ weeks into my 11.5 week euro vacay. i was unstoppable.

and so began the final leg of the european tour, "paris and london."

returning to paris.

the city of love means so much to me.  it was the first place i went, bright eyed and ready for anything, and after 9 weeks of touring, i returned and it was also the last non-english speaking place i went.

that's the beginning of my favorite memory.

for this, the last leg of the tour, we didn't have traditional professors on the track to being tenured.  no, we had two TA's.  both of who were double majors in art.

they.were.awesome.

we all met at paris' pantheon, and they proverbially kicked us in the face by beginning with

"this will be known as the leg of endurance." 

at 10+ weeks of being overseas, this is not what the 7 of us wanted to hear.

yes, just 7.  the first tour had 30something.

it was just us.

sara

jordan

jess

cole

brent

nikki

brian.

we were tired, we were worn. but we were ready for paris. (for me, again)

our first sketching assignment consisted of 10 gesture drawings of the building, and then  a lengthy discussion about why we sketched what we did.

all of the other tours just said "ok...go and sketch...or something."

but jen and amanda had something completely different in mind.

this was going to be tough.

this was going to be long.

this was going to be the best learning experience of my life.

we traveled the city, our tour in tow, and our game faces on.

by the end, there was blood(literally), tears(literally), large amounts of sweat(literally), and (most literally) lots of alcohol.  

the best beer i have ever had was on this tour. it was not the brand, it was not the amount of hops, it was not how long it was brewed, it was the circumstances.

but that's another story.

the day in question was one of our last in paris. we spent the morning touring.  at about noon, we had some free time (we had not had that before during this tour...!) and the option of meeting the group under the eiffel tower for some late-night meals, drinks, etc.

i decided to be bold and head out (by myself) to the parc de la villette. 2 years prior, i had to write a 10 page paper on christian de portzamparc, one of france's most notorious architects, and two of his most famous buildings were within the confines of the park.

i put on my mp3 playa, i bought my metro ticket, i got on the metro, i made all of the necessary changes at the appropriate stops (all interactions in french, mind you), and 45 minutes later, i was in suburban paris, enjoying one of the architectural icons that i only dreamed i would ever set foot in. it was the most brilliant park i've ever been in. people, activity everywhere.

i valued the alone time. after leaving the US, i basically had no privacy. this time alone was a rare pleasure, and i didn't realize how much i enjoyed alone time.

i was hungry. i found some burger-king rip-off place, and proceeded to order a burger combo in french.  it felt awesome. i was in paris. not looking quite like an outrageous american tourist, and dammit, i was ordering food. and for the first time, i didn't start out with parlez vouz inglese? all too soon, i realized it was time to head back to la tour eiffel and meet the rest for some outrageous evening.

although the exact details remain hazy, i do know there was food.  it was your typical meal, typical conversation. 

until it started raining.

until it started pouring.

three of our group decided to go back to the hostel immediately to sleep while the remaining 4 of us were going to find a good bar after a long day. our guides decided to walk with us, with the intention of finding a taxi to head back to their hotel.

we walked in the rain.

we all complained that our sketchbooks were going to get wet and ruined.

all of our stuff was going to get wet.

we all freaked. "i can't be out in this very long. my sketches!"

our sketches were unbelievably important. 

one moment, many feelings, minutes?, hours? all of it was encapsulated in the motion of holding your pencil to the paper and producing something that was completely you. completely from you. completely yours.  they are worth more than memories, pictures, and feelings combined, because they combine all three in a synthesis unmatched by anything else i have encountered. my europe sketchbooks are extremely personal. extremely valuable. extremely important.

but just to me.

and they were in danger of being ruined.

after we all pooled our resources and tried a series of plastic bags, rubber knapsacks, and layering clothes over them, we realized it was a losing battle.

we were soaked.

the rain was coming down in droves. no sign of letting up.

we were still walking.

walking in a primarily residential neighborhood on the banks of the seine.  a very parisian neighborhood.

our tour leaders decided that hailing a cab was useless and took on the task of joining us in our quest for some spirits.

after realizing that we were all soaked through, body and soul, by the warm rains of paris, we gave in.

we were wet. we were staying wet. we were accepting it.

then, somebody (not me) yells "wait! we're right next to the louvre!"

we change heading slightly, and head to the louvre.

nobody knew why.

we got there, and stopped. it's majesty, being overtaken by the darkness of night, being overtaken by the power of rain. and dimly lit by the globes in the plaza. it was a different world. a different louvre.  it was brooding in it's drenched state, but still standing proud. we walked around.

and then we started playing.

we threw off our bags, we slid on the stone benches, we climbed in the fountains, we splashed eachother.

amanda brought out her mechanical plastic flying bird she had bought the day before, and we all took turns cranking it up, and seeing who could get it to fly the farthest, while chasing it as fast as we could, sliding on the stone. we fell over, we stood up, we tried again.

we splashed, we climbed into the fountains. we swam. we stood up, we climbed, we yelled, we screamed. it was freedom. joy. pure.

zoom out.

the refined second-empire louvre building, standing for structure, power, and wealth. juxtaposed with the modern glass pyramids. truly, this building is one of the most prominent architectural icons in the world.  the world.  now add in nighttime, dim lighting, and vast amounts of rain and water. now add americans, drenched through the shoes, to the bone.

not giving a damn.

it was just the 5 os us, letting out inhibitions get the better of us while playing in a place as important and meaningful as the louvre.

instead of planning and worrying, i was looking into the sky, rain falling on my face, wanting more to come. never wanting this to end.

i didn't care about my sketchbook.

i didn't care how long this was going to take.

i didn't care how in debt i was.

i was in love.  in love with the moment.

in love with freedom, with not giving a damn, with fun.

we played for what seemed like hours.

and in some ways, it never ended.

eventually sleep came, as did the next day. and the day after.  

and, by some act of god, none of our sketchbooks got overly wet.

but the watermarks that do remain hold power and importance with a new meaning.

before i knew it, i was speaking english, my passport was being checked, and i was once again in the embrace of my parents, back in the northland.

and everytime it rains, i remember.

remember when i was free.

remember when i didn't care.

remember when i fell in love.