Ella and Clear Nights in the Country

It occurs to me that it is easier to feel both infinite and insignificant when the night is clear enough to see the Milky Way.

As much as I love the go, go, go feeling to the city, I only ever recognize my tiny place in the universe when I’m alone in the country.

And I feel like crying not because I’m happy or because I’m sad, just because I exist in this parking lot, staring at the sky, being buffeted by wind.

As always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

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In Which Ella Eats Chocolate and Finally Takes a Picture of the Skyline

I thought that I’d share some pictures from my somewhat wild adventure with Pippa on the Monday before Thanksgiving.

Here’s a picture of my meal, replete with my very awkward hand placement. Note the big metal mixer that is entirely filled with melted chocolate.

And I also finally have a picture of the skyline. Just look at the light pollution! It’s both terribly depresssing, and oddly beautiful. When I was in Deleware for Thanksgiving, it felt so strange to be able to see the Milky Way when I looked up on a clear night–I’ve become so used to the purple-ish skies of cities.

For the month, you can find me updating my word count on NaNoWriMo here. (I need to do it more regularly so that it doesn’t become flat for a few days, only to receive a weird spike, indicating that I somehow magically wrote about twelve thousand words in one day.)

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

In Which Ella Has a Costume Change

Above ground again, I started walking. I like the city. It’s near impossible to get lost with its even grid of numbered streets and avenues, so I headed north towards the nearest park. And as I walked I became more and more aware of just how awful of an outfit choice I had made. Silk, as it turns out, is not the most breathable material, no matter how thin it is, and when it’s over eighty degrees, wearing a three-quarter length sleeved silk blouse, jeans, and cowboy boots is a spectacularly poor idea.

This is what my shirt looked like:

So I marched myself north, running straight through the university campus, past dogs and their owners, construction sites, and nannies speaking to each other rapidly in foreign languages while the kids in their strollers hugged stuffed animals and blankets. I listened to the determined smacking of my boots against the pavement and caught snippets of people’s conversations, trying to imagine what their stories were. The girl on the cellphone had to be a student. She had a large backpack on her back and was walking too purposefully to be a tourist. Sure enough, I saw her open a university building and walk into the lobby as I passed. One point for Ella.

I began to search for a clothing store to buy a different shirt. I have way too many clothes, but another tee shirt wouldn’t hurt. Something white or black would be nice. They match everything, and I wear all of my black or white shirts to death already. But by the point I had determined what I was going to buy, I was nearly at the park, and turning around to head to the more interesting stores and boutiques would take quite a while, so I settled for the American Eagle.

Walking into the really large chain store in the city is never a pleasant experience. It’s always somewhat chaotic and loud, even when there aren’t loads of people inside. The space is big, there’s music playing, encouraging you to buy more, more, more, and salespeople everywhere with little black headsets. And because it was two p.m. on a Tuesday, it was just me, a Japanese family, a large group of German teenagers, and absolutely no black or white tee shirts. I mean, they had black or white tee shirts with giant eagles and words printed on them, but no nice, plain tee shirts in those colors.

I have a strict rule about clothes that tell everyone where you bought them. It goes like this: Don’t wear it. The only reason why they print the store’s logo on it is so that everyone knows the store where you bought and can guess how much it cost, thereby determining your coolness factor.

So I picked up a grey-blue shirt without any offending eagles, designs, or text and purchased it, ducking into a Wendy’s to change. But I still had hours and hours to kill before the book launch, so I wandered over to the park and sat down to finish The Help.

I’ve been up for eighteen hours now, and I am falling asleep. This will be finished tomorrow.

You can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into me rebloging pictures of pretty houses and clothes, modern art, quotes from books, poetry, cats, and the occasional tv or movie related .gif. Also, the layout has a particularly pleasing shade of green at the top. You should click on the link just to assess the quality of the color for yourself. I’d love to hear what you think of it.

Ella’s Fabulous Triumph

Today, I celebrate a great achievement. I went into the city to the art mueseum that had this summer’s most popular fashion exhibit and didn’t even feel the beginnings of a freak out.

We were jammed in the exhibit, shoulder to shoulder, and some morbidly obese man kept ramming his wheelchair into my legs in an attempt to push through the crowd, pushing me into whoever was next to me, and I didn’t even bat an eye. I just shifted my weight so that every time his foot rest hit my boot, I didn’t budge and politely told him that he was hurting me.

I ate an entire lunch without any prompting, and I rode in several glass elevators and walked down a bunch of escalators and stairs. I even didn’t feel a tinge of anxiety when a cab driver tried to pull away from the curb with my younger cousin halfway out of the car and me standing on the sidewalk.

And I also did this all on an hour and a half of sleep.

I’m a bit delirious right now, but I’m proud, really, really proud.