Je ne sais quio

I've got mad love for Charlotte Gainsbourg and Lou Doillon, daughters of the legendary Jane Birkin. True, they're not classically beautiful, but have bridled that unmistakable, that ever elusive je ne sais quio. Frumpy, bumpy-nosed and flat-chested--yet absolutely stunning in an i've-never-seen-people-so-memory-ingraining. How is this even possible? Makes me question our standard of beauty. It differs not only across races of people, but even more microscopically, within those races. These woman aren't even human, they're like borderline Courtney Loves; their only dividing quality being restraint: not making fools of themselves and entering into the crazy realm of utter Courtney Love-ness, which would otherwise render them uninteresting. Moderation is everything. Even in fashion and attitude.

Charlotte--how i loved her in Jane Eyre.
So ethereal.


and Lou Doillon. her attitude is staggering to me.
Shows in her dress.


I wonder how i might learn those qualities? You know how the Mona Lisa is ever-described as mysterious and quietly exciting and soul-stirring? How can i be like that? I want to be a Liz who is less in-your-face, and more in-the-background and yet somehow not forgotten. i can't seem to find a balance. I'm tired of only knowing how to do things in the extreme.

--Pensive Liz

Growing Up

I’m twenty-five now, and lately I’ve been reminiscing my youth. I’ve used up 5 of my 9 lives and I’m terrified that the remaining 4 are not enough. I'm still young, you say? Well. To quote the great Megan Fox, "I've lived the life of a 35-year-old since i was 18." LOL!

The Peaworld is an intense environment…people looking at me, banging on the fishbowl glass to see what i'll do next...only the bravest of the brave survive and the adventures are endless and sometimes exhausting. Hitting the quarter-of-a-century-mark made me realize that I’ve got to get moving and change my focus. Which i have been, for the most part.

For example, Saturday nights used to be reserved for dancing on tables, ruining the upholstery of countless clubs/lounges/bars, drinking from bottles, making fun of girls that drank mixed drinks, and losing a shoe, an earring, or an article of clothing. Wanna know what's become of me???

This past Saturday, I stayed home and baked a blueberry tart for my grandma.

Bunnie: “Don’t you think it’s so funny how we’ve turned out?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Bunnie: “It’s Saturday night and you’re at your boyfriend’s place baking, and I’m at home, pregnant.”

My soul sister, B, is 20-weeks preggo with my nephew. My partner-in-crime is temporarily on the disabled list. And I count the days till we can grab cocktails and “disturb the peas” again. In the meantime, I’m donning my “Hello! My name is All-Growed-Up” nametag and trying to focus on my career. And baking like a skinnier, younger version of Paula Deen. In a nutshell, Peaworld is currently in autopilot, and I’m perfectly fine with that.

PS: And just because I bake doesn’t mean I can’t out-party you…I’ve got experience on my side! *wink* Challenge me, if you dare.

Love,

Astrid