Hi there! Remember me?The girl who did nothing but finals and work for three straight weeks, interspersed with fast food runs and brief spells of fitful sleep, often in clothes worn on repeat? Well if you didn't believe me the proof is all over my bedroom, and spilling out of my closets. It's all over my car, and in the trunk and in the floorboards. It's in my bathroom, primarily colonizing the sink/toilet/bathtub. It's in my overflowing laundry baskets. It's in the stack of mail that is a good 4 inches thick, waterfalling over the edge of my desk and pooling in a papery puddle next to the shredder covered in dust- yes, I was that busy. So, my apartment and I have a Friday night date- I'll be wearing my 1950's housewife getup, but I'll skip the Valium. Gotta bring my A game to this mess.
Have a good weekend kittens. I'll catch up with you on Saturday.
Ok, so I was joking about getting drunk and engaging in unwholesome proclivities for drugs with bums....
after that 7-Up, I really needed to use the restroom. So I sauntered over to the portable toilets. But guys, it was dark. And there were no lights. Which meant that the DMA would have been forcing me to lift up my skirt and sit over a hole in a dirty port-a-potty in the pitch black. I tried, really I did, but when i shut the door I could see nothing, and even though it's not *technically* a drain, more like a huge receptacle beneath the seat, I started having flashbacks to "It" (the book, which I read in the 4th grade, thanks parents, not the movie). I couldn't do it. I'll wait to get home.
So, we walk back to the train and I suddenly realize there is no way I can make it home. And of course because downtown is filled with bums none of the businesses have public restrooms. I scanned frantically, and saw a big landscaped area of trees and bushy grass. Walking around for further inspection I saw two small but deep fountains behind it that had been drained. After walking back to the platform, I could see that none of this propitious situation was visible to the street.
Now don't judge me for this next part. I'm pretty sure you know where this story is going anyway, but in the interest of being coy I'll couch the following in hypotheticals. But it's all true.
I may or may not have then enlisted Jennifer to be my lookout. I possibly then crawled into said drained fountain. At that point I may or may not have given one last furtive glance for onlookers before nonchalantly squatting down and peeing while pretending to be having a totally casual conversation that I just happened to want to have while crouching in a dark and empty fountain. Jennifer may have then offered a sheet of the Dallas Observer to assist me at the end, but I refused. This could have been on the grounds that I didn't want to litter, but I also didn't want to carry a crumpled up piece of newsprint covered in my urine to the trash. It was a classic ethical dilemma- the former would have filled me with guilt, the latter was just gross. So I sacrificed. I did a little shake, adjusted my clothes, and hopped out of the fountain like nothing had happened.
So, to the question. If a security camera catches me urinating in a public fountain downtown, can I be charged with something?
Cousin Mel, Cousin Mel's husband Josh, and beautiful baby boy Jacob
This was his face on his first ride on the DART rail. Due to pictures not having sound effects, you can't hear him saying "YAY TRAIN!"
Here's a picture that could *probably* be used as proof that I'm a raging alcoholic. And maybe based on that idea one could infer that I got totally wasted, and of course one could logically assume that I then had sex with a bum in the sculpture garden downtown, after which I got arrested for prostitution AND drug running because he paid me for my services with an 8 ball!!
Of course, the real story is that this is me being funny, acting pretentious and holding a wine glass before returning to drinking my 7-Up and playing with my baby cousin. Then he drank all my 7-Up. Babies are greedy. But they're cute. So it works out.
I'm really loving these concerts at the DMA. Ok, mostly I'm really loving summer. But this is a great part of it so far. I'll see you soon Mom and Granny!
So happy to be almost debt free, done with classes, sitting on a 4.0, sending a paper off to get published, seeing friends and family, traveling and going to the pool and reading books for fun, sleeping in and staying up late, going to concerts, playing pool, volunteering, camping, going on week night dates and playing downtown...
I could go on and on. Let's go summer. Don't tell school, but you're my favorite.
The Dallas Museum of Art has a summer concert series called Jazz under the Stars. They block off the side street and everyone brings picnic blankets, food, drinks, puppies, dates, babies, whatever they need for a good picnic. It's free and you just show up, find a spot, and enjoy being downtown in the middle of the arts district, enjoying good music and great *for now* weather
We didn't bring picnic blankets this time- it was kind of an impromptu thing, so we opted for the curb on this trial run. Next time though, picnic blankets all around! Oh, I should probably also apologize for all of these pictures being blurry and our faces looking crazy- it was dusky and the sun was setting, so the flash made everything look washed out, and no flash was blurry, so we opted for the latter.
I love how pale I am. My legs should be friends with those blind cave fish. They'd have a lot in common. Like no wrinkles and an aggressive commitment to flouting arbitrary Western beauty standards of tan skin... wait... that has nothing to do with anything really.
Then we decided to go play in the Trammel Crow sculpture garden across from the Nasher- you could still hear the concert, but no one was over there. This is at the foot of the Buddha fountain.
Blurry lights of downtown at the top of the Buddha fountain in the sculpture garden.
J-Ben and Pizzle, love love love love love
So I kicked off my shoes and thought I'd get some good pictures with one of my favorites, the archer. For a brief moment I was afraid that he'd fall over and crush me, and thus I would be punished for crawling on the art, but that didn't happen. This led me to believe I could do whatever I wanted, and nothing bad would happen...
but then the night security at the Trammel Crow sculpture garden started giving us the stink eye. We got the shots though, so it's all good. It's much more difficult to crawl up on sculptures for photo ops during the day. Oh night time. You're the right time.
On the walk home we decided we definitely needed Carmine's pizzeria and root beer. Necessity.
Hi there pretty thing. You're coming with me.
Then we waited for the train and killed time reading the Dallas Observer and counting crazies. The crazies are like the spice to public transportation. They make the whole thing a little bit better. It was a good night :)
I think almost any question about life- what should I do? where should I go? why pick this over that, or do this other thing? if I obsess enough, will I come to the perfect right answer? can be brushed aside with the following quote-
"...nothing in the world can one imagine beforehand, not the least thing. Everything is made up of so many unique particulars that cannot be foreseen." - Rainer Maria Rilke
Rainer, if you weren't dead, I'd give you a kiss for how perfectly you build a sentence and weave a thought through it. But I'm already in love with one dead poet (what's up Walt? still singing songs about yourself? cool, cool) so I guess I'll just say, yeah. You're right on with this one Rainer, like always.
I should be writing my final paper. I'm not. It's pretty much the absolute last thing in the world I want to be doing at this point in time.
I'm tired and frustrated, and the days are ticking closer to the due date and all I can think is "paper, you are so the least important thing in my mind right now, it's not even funny, back off, thanks".
But then the paper says "might I remind you 30% of your grade depends on me?".
I'm going to go write the final for my 4th, and last, class. It's due tomorrow. I have an A in there so far, so unless I totally skid off the rails I should have an A on the final, and I don't have any concerns about the term paper I'm writing for it... so...
I might... juuuuust might... end up with a 4.0 for the semester. Have I ever mentioned to you I took four graduate classes this semester? While working full time? And enjoying the company of lots of boys, and my friends? And still finding the time to do stuff like clean my car, do my laundry, take a shower every now and again, and go to yoga?
Because I did. And I might end up with all A's at the end of it!
Last Saturday, sandwiched in between finishing my final in Socio-Economic Theories and writing my final paper for Law and Psychiatry, I went to Brooke's annual birthday party, Spring Bash. This was Spring Bash VIII (8 for those of you that didn't pay attention when your teacher taught you Roman numerals). So, she's 26, and I've known her for EIGHT years now. Eight. That's a lot of good times :)
Brooke getting Birthday love from my cousin Mel
You know me, now you know Mel
Chris and I thankful for non-alcoholic drinks!
Brooke's Birthday Cups (it makes sense, go with it)