Cara Perugia, Ti Manco

I found myself with a little reflection and creativity this morning on the train, and in light of my last post, I want to share it with you. I've been missing Italy a lot lately; hearing my coworkers speaking Italian over the phone with clients has made me especially nostalgic for my time in Perugia. Here is a little slice of my life from a city a love.

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Perugia, Italy--

Perugia sits on top of a hill, where it seems that a strong gust of wind could blow it off into the atmosphere. You might forget while you walk among its gray stone streets and structures, but Perugians soak the morning sun in before it touches the Umbrian countryside. There air revives you with every breath, and its mystery makes the city magical.

There was a distinct sound coming home to that place: the echoes of heeled boots clapping the stone walls, down roads that look like halls. Our street was quiet, except for the occasional piano playing from a couple who liked to waltz in their basement. We lived in an alley that most didn't even know existed--just wide enough for three girls to walk side-by-side--though our corner owned one of the best views in town.

Our alley’s cold darkness was desirable after a long night of dancing and downing vino. But on this one particular morning, rather than waking to the taunting sounds of a Samsung cell phone circa 1995 (like most days), I woke to cackles coming through the cracks of my window.

I was jolted to my feet. My roommates and I sluggishly rose out of our beds and battled our big wooden shutters, finally breaking down our barrier from the outside world. We crowded our window to see what waited among us, only to find a mottled line of children: a mosaic of small smiling faces, still too young to value sleep.

            Waves of laughter and sunlight instantly swept across our cold tile floors, and our giggles resounded upon the discovery: our apartment’s alleyway was not solely characterized by its chill and its secrecy; we shared our street with a school.

In that moment I was overwhelmed by simultaneous laughter and tears. From that moment, the air was lighter with the kind of exhilaration that only radiates from children; their spirits are the spirit of Perugia. I will always remember that afternoon as the day I officially fell in love with a city.

                                                                                                                                                                                              

No Room for Doodlers

I could spend an hour beautifying my writing--in more ways than one. I could fiddle with diction and syntax or I could play with writing visually... if you let me.

That's part of the fun in writing (for me, at least)--the relationship between your hands and the pen and paper. I went through all of high school and college handwriting all of my papers and writing assignments first... and I was an English major! For each assignment, I would write the draft by hand with a good, black ballpoint pen, then edit the draft with a different color pen (usually blue, maybe red if I was feeling particularly assertive that day), and once complete, then I would type. Imagine how many notebooks I've gone through in my lifetime! Even all of these blog posts were handwritten first. The computer has just never felt like a journal to me... I am just old fashioned in that way, I guess.

So as of late, being somewhat of a journalist in terms of deadlines and all, I have had to give up this precious pastime. It's the kind of cold-turkey withdrawal that is worse than giving up cigarettes, I think. But I actually have to say that I've found journalistic writing to be best when typed. It really helps me stay concise and factual--ideal for the assignment, which is something the notebook just cannot afford me.

So now the only writing left to write (by hand, that is) is creative and personal, which I realized is a good thing because it gives all that pent up emotion a canvas on which it can really go nuts. And my hand is just so happy to be reacquainted with the curves of the ballpoint--every slide, swirl and lick as it dances wildly about the page, that handwriting in my journal has become like yoga for my button-punching, keyboard-stricken fingertips.

I keep coming to one problem though: once I make it to the page and get my free-range flowing, I don't really have much to say. Due to lack of practice, the muscles need warming up (and believe me, that's the closest any muscles of mine have even come to warmth these days... unless you count the daily jogs, sprints, and speed-and-sidewalk weaves to and from the highly unreliable NJ Transit).

But then I thought maybe... oh, God... maybe, I've just run out of ideas. Those damn fluorescent lights and PC monitors have sucked the creativity right through my pupils and out of my brain like the final quarter-inch of strawberry milkshake at the bottom of the glass.

Maybe not; but whatever it is, my brain is not making many creative leaps these days.

Now it suddenly seems that the title of this blog can still fit just fine: "Flat Champagne: The post-college pursuit of creation preservation." Well, that kind of sounds like some Bible Belt, Jahovah's Witness slogan for voting pro-life. Maybe instead it'd be something like: "A girl's quest to make it in publishing and still maintain her creative skills."

Okay, these all SUCK. This is exactly what I am talking about.

But maybe I don't need a new byline because I am still looking for some form of fulfillment. Don't get me wrong, this job is incredible and I love how much writing I get to do, and to be published on top of it--I feel so truly accomplished and excited about my work and my future. But creative writing is a huge part of who I am and has been since I was a little kid. To just let that slip away would be losing a part of my identity. I cant let that happen; I must resuscitate my poetic flat line or Christina might not survive.

I have always believed that all things are best in balance. I need to balance my journalistic writing with my creative writing--like that physics saying: each and every action has an equal and opposite reaction (my Grandma would be proud that I even remember that haha). And while I must keep them segregated, I have found each one increasingly helpful in my execution of the other. Like a couple who has been together for many years, the two individuals must be able to grow on their own, while still growing together.

And, one of the great things about my job is what I get to write about. Upon graduating, I shied away from pursuing a career in editorial/publishing because I believed:
A.) I wouldn't get to write.
B.) If I did get to write, it would be about incredibly dry subject matter that would have an adverse effect on my love for writing.

But I am writing about so many great things, the art exhibitions in particular. I love researching the artists' work and history and who their influences were and finding where they overlap and collide. The gallery owners and collectors who consign some of these massive sales are just incredible. I have also found fine jewelry to be art as well, which is inexplicably inspirational. You will just have to read the articles.

So what's the problem with my creativity? I still have the inspiration and intrigue; I still have the interest in writing and, despite another old fear of mine, I still have the desire to write for pleasure even though I do it at work every day. Hell, I just worked overtime without breaks because I get so sucked in, and I still have been writing this blog post for this entire hour-and-20 minute train ride just to get back on the computer and type this final draft for you!

-CG

Flat Champagne Returns!

I'm sorry for neglecting you for so long; a lot has happened since I last wrote you. It seems that from Thanksgiving to New Years I feel like my life has done a complete 180. When I last left off, I had just overcome a rough night after Thanksgiving while writing a cover letter for a possible job opportunity in Chicago. That was was honestly one of the toughest nights I'd had since graduating; but then, just as I'd woken up from crying -- my eyes still swelled and all -- everything started coming together. It is like it was all a test, and the final exam, to force myself -- no, to pick myself up (though not without help from others around me) -- to just do what I had to do after a long rut of doing, what seemed like, nothing.

First off, I realized that the cover letter I dreaded so much was not really about the cover letter itself at all. It was a symbol of monotony -- a hopeless monotonous tone my life had taken on (or maybe I had chosen to take on myself) -- and I just could not take another repetitive thing that I did not want to do anymore. But mostly, I did not want to let go: to let go of Thailand, let go of college, and even let go of a 5-day trip to California. To me, it was letting go of something each of those symbolized to me: freedom. But the truth is, I had never been so captive in my entire life as I was during that fixation and that state of stagnancy.

By this point you are probably wondering what the heck happened to bring this epiphany.

Well, i didn't give up my dreams, but I moved on, which is what I realize you have to do to in order to achieve your dreams sometimes. In so many words:

I sent in that cover letter, was oh-so relieved and was eagerly awaiting a response, when a few days after the last rut (the night after I shared it with you) I was at my aunt's house to see my cousin Lauren before she flew back to L.A. Previously, while out in L.A., she picked up some tarot cards and, with some direction, got pretty good at reading them. We'd always gotten a kick out of things like that, so she read mine and the first thing she landed on was regret. She said that I wasn't sleeping well -- that I was tired because I couldn't move forward from the past and couldn't be happy until I did. We couldn't figure out what she was talking about for a little while until she asked about Thailand, and then -- whether it was the cards, intuition, or her just being close enough to me to sense that something was deeply troublesome -- I realized she was right. Every time I'd come close to an opportunity of any kind, I would go half-way and then freak out (like I did in my last post) and I would revert to fixating on my inability to go to Thailand, which would lead to me becoming depressed and thrusting myself back into another rut. Obviously... it's no wonder I was getting nowhere! The longer I held onto the past (me not going to Thailand), the longer I held my head underwater, drowning myself in my regrets.

After my realization that night, I felt like I purged myself of all that negativity, regret, and sadistic sorrow. And just a few days after that, I got an e-mail from a very dear family friend, who I worked for at my internship, in response to my second California post. She told me there was an opening at her friend's magazine and she thought I would be a good fit and that her friend and I would really get along. I was hesitant because I had just become grounded and accepted that my next step would be in Chicago and was afraid if I took a chance on this, I might slip back into my old pattern. But I knew it would be foolish to pass up the opportunity, so I went ahead and set up an interview the next day... and she was right.


The woman who interviewed me -- my would-be boss -- and I talked for an hour. I left the interview feeling excited and renewed. It was a job with a great deal of opportunity for learning, experience, and room for growth in exactly the field I wanted to pursue. A week later, I got an offer! And I was dying to talk to you guys about it before and after the interview but because this blog is on my resume I couldn't until things were settled. But now, a month later, I am working! I am the Editorial Assistant from Robb Report; and I am writing a lot and learning a lot and it is only my second week, but I love it. And this blog helped me so much. All of your supportive comments and loyal reading helped me incredibly; in some sense, I feel like starting this blog prompted my comeback.


So I am sad that I didn't even hit 10 posts on Flat Champagne, but I am not ready to say goodbye. So, I propose a new topic -- the blog needs a direction and I need your help. Please send me any ideas/input as to  what you would like to read and where you'd like to see Flat Champagne go. We might even be up for a possible name change who knows?! Some of the ideas so far were to allow other people to contribute, to talk about the young, post-grad professional life and all that entails, to start featuring more creative writing sometimes... but I really think you probably have some solid suggestions and insight to contribute, so please do!

Thank you and love to all who have helped me throughout this crazy transition and unstable time in my life. And, of course, many, many thanks for always reading!