who needs a knight in shining armor when you have a dude with a rolling couch?

i finally did it. i finally fell down the stairs in vol walker hall on friday. i suppose that i was probably aided in my feat by the fact that i am one of the least graceful people i know... then again, it might have also been helped along by the rather large puddle on the landing of said [marble] stairs. i am most thankful for the fact that no one was around to see my marvelous fall, my crumpled body at the bottom of the stairs, or my limp back into the studio... as i embarrass easily and i don't enjoy being pointed and laughed at for my idiocy... at least not to my face...

mind you, my body still hates me quite profoundly for letting it fall down a flight of stairs but it probably hates me even more for going to david's house on saturday night. too much beer. too much fun [well, not really... there's no such thing as too much fun, but go with me on this one... willing suspension of disbelief and all that jazz]. so midway through the evening i finally find a chair to sit in that doesn't hurt me [i think i gave my tail bone quite the thrashing on the stairs] and low and behold, my friend david decides that it would be a great idea to make my chair flip over... with him squarely on top of me... yeah, body not so happy about that one...

so i spent most of yesterday being as lazy as possible... we'll deem it recuperating for the time being. i watched the third harry potter movie twice, took a bath, read a book... did as little moving as possible... and it would seem that my body hates me just a little less today than it did yesterday. all in all, i'd call that progress.

i'm not making kissee faces...

i'm not really one for going to weddings, watching wedding videos, or anything of the like... maybe it's just that the thought of marriage freaks the living crap out of me [well, at least for now], maybe it's something totally unrelated, but i don't really enjoy most weddings - receptions, yes. weddings, no. a lot of times, i find myself getting angry with some of the phrases in the ceremony - 'the wife's duty is to serve her husband'... where's the part about it being an equal partnership? it seems to me that if two people - whoever they are - get married, they should 'serve' each other... maybe i'm idealistic, but that would seem like the key ingredient to any successful marriage - well, that and actually loving each other, making each other stupidly happy and being loyal [i.e. not diddling the maid and whatnot].

having written all of this, i did have the chance to watch my friend's brother's wedding video this weekend, and it was really quite wonderful. none of this 'who serves who' business and the like. the whole thing was so full of love and joy that it kind of made me want to cry - in a really good kind of way [i thought i'd add this little tid-bit for those of you who don't know me very well: i'm not a wedding crier... nor do i really cry during movies, ceremonies, etc. ... maybe i'm just a heartless freak, but i've just never been that moved to weep during a ceremony...]. it was wonderfully romantic - on a beach in costa rica at sunset during the spring... all that stuff you read about but no one actually does.

i guess it was kind of reassuring to know that people are still romantic... that people can love each other enough to not be afraid to be goofy in their pursuit of romance...

a collection of silly nothings...

now that i've succeeded in alienating everyone who has ever read my blog, i thought that i'd go ahead and update this thing... i just got back from a ridiculous trip to new mexico... ridiculous in a really good way - in the i-didn't-want-to-come-home-kind-of-way. i'm a desert person and for some reason, i feel more at peace there than anywhere else. maybe it's the 'big sky' or maybe it's that at night [practically everywhere], it looks like someone's taken a satchel full of diamonds and thrown it into the sky so it looks 'like a backlit canopy with holes punched in it.'

being on this trip reminded me of how much i used to enjoy being outside as much as possible... being active as much as possible... it seems as though i'd forgotten that since i moved to fayetteville - surprisingly. i love coming home after a full day of traipsing around some unfamiliar place, feeling as though if i move just once more i will involuntarily collapse [not from lack of sleep... which has unfortunately been my trend as of the last four years]. i also love solitude [in doses] - being able to disappear for a while; to sit in complete solitude with the world swirling past you in easy waves whilst you sit in awe of what surrounds you. that is a great moment.

i just met jesus and he gave me a part-time job

there are few things that i can think of that are worse than being covered with sawdust... it's not necessarily the sawdust part that's so awful - it's the damn itching. that crap embeds itself into every goddamn fiber of every shred of anything in contact with your skin and it doesn't let go, accept bribes or give a shit whether or not you want to crawl out of your skin because of the discomfort.

i spent the majority of my day today in the woodshop in the basement of vol walker... why is it that everything you think will take 20 minutes takes you all goddamn day? argh. that's what i have to say about that: argh. i've learned - among other things - 2 very important things these past few months: 1] respect those who have the patience, talent and upper body strength to work with concrete - if you don't, they have the power to possibly beat you down with an 80 lb. bag of concrete or two... 2] don't wear fleece, sweatshirts or anything black in a woodshop because, a] sawdust never really comes out of your clothes, no matter how many times or how thoroughly you wash them, and b] you end up with sawdust in very peculiar and potentially embarrassing places which fuzzy or dark clothing tend to accentuate... don't ask.

i had a dream that you grew a garden on a trampoline and i was so happy that i'd invented peanut butter...

i have been so very neglecting of my dear blog. i am sorry to keep those of you who actually read my pathetic babble waiting, and i do appreciate that you've been waiting. these last couple of weeks have been somewhat rough [to put it lightly]. i've been quite a lot of different things of late... i was the terrible girlfriend who had a final the day after my boyfriend's birthday and was unable to do something wonderful for him on his day; i've been the nervous wreck that people dread having to interact with; i've been a zombie from lack of sleep; i've been... well, lets just say that it's the end of the semester and i've been dealing with that in my own retarded way.

i did get to go to the movie theater on friday [courtesy of a lovely woman i am privileged to call my best friend - absa] for the first time this semester. we went to see kingdom of heaven... damn. amazing. movie. i wasn't expecting anything quite that good, and needless to say, i was more than pleasantly surprised. having taken military history and being a history geek/nerd/what have you, i really appreciated the movie for not being one of those overly-biased-i-haven't-ever-picked-up-a-history-book-in-my-whole-god-
forsaken-life-but-i-felt-like-making-an-historical-movie kind of movies... i also appreciated the lack of preacheri-ness in the movie. as someone who grew up in the middle east and as someone who detests the current trend of condemning islamic people because of their faith [or anyone for that matter], i was most touched by the respectful portrayal of both christians and muslims... of people in the movie.

this was, however, brutally interrupted by the disgusting woman behind me [who, mind you, should be slapped for being such a bigot], got up after that wonderful film and stated, [imagine the most ignorant accent you can muster] 'i just can't believe that they'd actually make those muslims look good in that movie.' i wanted to get up and say, in the most serious tone i could possibly conjure, 'you. damn. fool. i pity you for being so ignorant and hateful.' i will go to my grave still wondering how people who claim to be 'godly' can be so full of warrantless hate. surely, 'god's people' should be good people, tolerant people, people who respect others and 'do unto others as they would have done unto them.' but, such is life, i suppose. i personally think that it's some sort of cruel twist of fate that would have people spending their lives filling their stony hearts full of more blackness...

this is one of those times that i have to remind myself of one of those things everyone should just trust is true: that all people are inherently good, no matter the apparent darkness of their actions, no person is entirely evil... and then i turn on the news and see pure, unadulterated evil staring right back at me with his stupid camel face and it makes me want to believe it all the more... people are inherently good. people are inherently good. good. good. good.

there is madness in this silence

i thought that staring at my screen/keyboard for a few minutes would trigger some stroke of genius, however, no such stroke has manifested yet. i felt guilty, not having posted in quite some time, but with it being crunchy time [the week before my final critiques and whatnot], my life is full of busy nothings - more busy than nothing, really.

some might find it interesting/amusing to know that i have already cut myself twice while trying to build models for said critique... some might also find it interesting that i have also bruised both of my hands in a futile attempt to 'nip' stone to make a mosaic... but most people would find this mind-numbingly dull, so i'll save you the excruciating boredom of having to read about it.

yup, my life will be boring for a while... at least for the next ten days - unless there is some juicy studio drama that unfolds that i can share with you here at idontliketowearshoes [i.e. someone losing a digit to the dreaded x-acto blade, nervous breakdowns, drunken mishaps in the studio - you know, your basic pre-critique nonsense]. however, i'm not holding my breath - lack of oxygen tends to make it rather difficult to work...

worry not, there is plenty of pain left to last you...

i have succeeded in digging myself into a gigantic hole - a pit, chasm, canyon, if you will - using, not a shovel, but a back hoe. it seems that i have landed in quite the predicament... being that i most likely will not catch up with all of the tasks that i am supposed to complete prior to the completion of this lovely semester [you're swimming in sarcasm, once again], should i just give up now and bask in my utter failure? or should i continue to try my damnedest to whittle away at what is left of my sanity [i'm running rather dry on my share of sanity at the moment]?

i say, 'ha. i defy you, sanity. i can do without you... i will most likely have more fun without you... who needs sanity anyway - i can now have a wonderfully viable excuse to make a complete ass out of myself on a regular basis ['you see, she's just crazy... pay no attention to her'].'

it ain't headin' up no more...

maybe it's that i haven't lived in the south for very long, maybe i need to loosen up or some such nonsense, but 'southern speak' is so very strange to me... it always amazes me how most incredibly intelligent people can sound so very ignorant when speaking 'southern.' one of my very close friends, probably the most intelligent person i have ever encountered in my lifetime - during a very theoretical conversation - said that he 'didn't reckon that [something] was true'... it just really baffled me how i had never ever expected that phrase to come from his mouth... reckon...

mind you, i am from the south - born in texas and whatnot - but the only real southern expressions i use are mam, sir, and [on occasion] y'all. ain't, double negatives, reckon, 'figur' [figure], j'eet yet? [have you eaten yet?], 'moungry' [i'm hungry], 'fixin' tuh' [about to], etc. haven't really found their way into my vocabulary as of the present moment and will hopefully take the subtle hint that they are not invited into my vocabulary any time soon...

i have no qualms with people who speak 'southern' - as a matter of fact, most of my very closest friends and family are so southern that it could be said that they speak an entirely different language - i just find that 'southern' doesn't really facilitate my manner of expression very well...

i have no idea where i was going with this at all... but i've spent the last hour or so contemplating the oddity of 'southern speak' and how it tends to just pop up out of nowhere, like daisies in the snow... at least 'southern' isn't irritating... just ever so wonderfully amusing - like mullets [another southern phenomenon]... they never fail to bring a smile to my face.

i ranched up all over my pants...

tuna fish sandwiches and guacamole... the dinner of champions who like to puke all over themselves... actually, i didn't puke; i just wanted to after i realized what i had just eaten for dinner. this has to be one of the strangest food combinations that i have consumed in a really long time.

it actually reminds me of the milk chug that i was idiotic enough to participate in during my first year of architecture school... dear god, have i come a long way [at least i would like to think that my having developed the sense to not try to make myself vomit on purpose is 'a long way']. what is a milk chug? one could ask. let me lay it all out there for ya'...

during a milk chug, one is required to down an entire gallon of milk in an hour or less... now, this really is much more difficult than one would imagine... given that after you finish about half of a gallon, your body kind of decides to hate you, your stomach deciding that it would much rather act like a tiny lil' version of mount saint helens on a bad day than just cooperate with you in your stupid stunt...

the 3 most important milk chug ground rules:
1. absolutely no skim milk... 2% milk can be acceptable, as long as you are willing to live with the fact that you're a wuss...
2. you may not - at any time during the given hour of the milk chug - vomit on any of the other idiots chugging milk with you. it happens, but it's just not good practice to throw up on people that you are a] friends with, b] working with or, c] stuck in a studio with for the next 5 years of your life. people tend to dislike 'involuntary protein spill' all over them...
3. someone must videotape/record the moronic event so that the participants can look back and enjoy how stupid they once were/still are... recordings can also be used as a valuable blackmail tool later in life...

got milk?

you smell like a cupcake...

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