I suppose I should explain why I can’t help but refer to Larry as Larry bear in my head. I knew a Larry back in Cinci, he was an adorable friend who happened to look like a bear, and the endearing term was born. 5 years later I’m in college, and the TA is a Larry who looks exactly like a bear. He has a short haircut, has that teddy bear kind of build, and just looks like a bear. In a good way, I suppose. I kid you not, it’s somewhat uncanny. But there you have it, Larry bear.

CHRISTMAS IS COMING! HUZZAH!!!! I’m ever so excited. It snowed today, and although I was forced into misery by the inclement weather, the fluttering frost reminded me of what was to come as it drifted down onto my head, soaking me. I’m exited for the Christmas songs and the decorations, and most of all the tree. We ordered a new 7.5 foot artificial pre-lit tree off eBay, and the delay of its arrival drives me mad. True, we won’t set it up until Thanksgiving night, but I’m still so thrilled. The magical season approaches and brings a smile to myself and makes me giddy.

All in all I had a great day today. I managed my time wisely and accomplished a lot. I didn’t finish all my studio work but made great head way. I hope tomorrow’s crit treats me well!

Talked to Maile today at Church.

Apparently the Aussie is an incredible kisser.

Yesterday I went to a Haunted house with Maile & Co. and the Aussie. It was hilarious; I’m absolutely terrified the whole way through and at points I’m in tears. It’s awesome.

It’s curious; every time I go to this haunted house something odd but comical happens to me. Last year, as I was being chased by zombies, rotting faces and all, I slipped and whacked one in the crotch with my heavy purse. He doubled over, laughing, and told me to be considerate of the poor zombies. This year, about 3 minutes into the haunted house, an actor dressed as jack the ripper jumped out of a compartment and I promptly fell through the wall behind me. As the crew was putting the set back together, I laughed and rub my throbbing thigh, pondering exactly how I would ever make it through the set without incident. I ran into many people, jumped into the arms of bemused strangers, and trampled many a foot in my attempt to flee the monsters.

We went to Rocky Point, by far the best in the state (hence the reason the institution won ‘best in state’ award), and the haunted house was extremely well put together. It was freaky and loads of fun. I also went with a hot Australian boy, which would have been a lot more fun if Maile hadn’t been literally throwing herself at him the entire time (literally, read: lunging at him and diving under his shirt every time she was startled.) He’s leaving in a week, she has a boyfriend, why can’t she ever be content with just being friends with a guy? I’m fine with the fact that she enjoys the company of many, many men, but at times I’m embarrassed for her and myself because of her bluntly brazen antics. I acknowledge that he’s hot, has an adorable accent, and is fun to be around, but he is leaving soon. A purely platonic relationship would probably carry on longer and be more beneficial to the times he comes back to Salt Lake. That is why I decided not to make a move, but he does have two legs and is a male, therefore Maile decided that hitting on him ceaselessly whenever in his presence was the best method for her. She made it a tad bit awkward as we moved through the haunted house, simply because it was odd to walk through with them due to the fact that Maile was mauling him the whole way. So I spent most of the time with Lehua and Xan, which was cool, but vexing that I couldn't be with the friends I know the best.

Afterwards we all hung out, even though Maile was still trying to harass him (or whatever the obnoxious ritual she calls flirting really is). We had a pillow fight, he and I talked, and we just had fun. (Apparently I’m quite a laugh, and he’ll have to give me a bell. Translation: I’m funny and he’ll have to call me sometime this week)

I had a lot of fun last night, but only after I came home did I realize that I had missed the deadline for my Saturday Physics homework, which was maddening. To the depths of the sea with schoolwork! I want to go get a costume, paint my face, and participate in Halloween activities for the rest of the week.

Bah!

So… The fugees reunited on stage a month ago and rumors are flying about another album.

*blink*

That would be so bleeding awesome.

Faint light of dawn
I’m listening to you breathing in and breathing out
needing nothing
You are honey dipped
You are beautiful, floating clouds, soft world,
I can’t feel my lips

I’m going down, I don’t want to change
I’m going down, going down this drain

Don’t bring me down, I beg you,
Don’t bring me down, I won’t let you

(Sia Furler, Don’t Bring me Down)

Yesterday before I went to baby-sit for Jen I went shopping and picked up some liquid black eye liner along with a curling iron. The eye liner is somewhat extreme, but I gave my self 10 minutes to apply it right before mum came home and it looked magnificent.

I perfected my makeup just as mum came through the door and announced that she felt like something fun.

We decided to go see “the notebook.”

It’s a rare occasion for mum and me to go out to a show in general, and on a weekday it’s absurd to think about it. But after both of us looked back at our days we indulged ourselves and went to the movie.

“Oh, it’s splendid!” Mum exclaimed as we neared the theater. “I never see movies twice (isn’t that the truth) but this one is wonderful. It’s the chickest flick on the market.”

Awesome. A good chick flick is really nice every now and then. But, I reminded myself as I looked at my flawlessly dolled up face in the mirror, I mustn’t cry and wash down the masterpiece my face had become.

Well, almost. I was rather close. I made it through the movie up until the part where Noah and Allie get up and dance to “I’ll Be Seeing You” In the nursing home. I started sobbing hysterically, spilling my chewy sweet tarts all over the people in front of me.

“S-s-s-ooor-ry!” I choked out.

The couple turned around. The girl, whose face was covered in tears and mascara, totally understood. The man looked around him as if he’d missed a bombing or some other life-claiming national tragedy of the sort.

My makeup, surprisingly, held up pretty well (sort of). After the movie mum and I went to grab some new lipgloss at shopko, and there I stumbled upon the black eye liner I had bought the day before.

I thought of Noah. I thought of Allie and Noah dancing and fighting and kissing, and being separated for 14 years. I thought of the scene in “Hanging Up” where the parents are dancing to their song, I thought of Noah reading to Allie, I thought of the scene in “Patch Adams” where the wrinkled woman dives into the pool of spaghetti. I thought of the man I want to marry and the slim chances I feel I will ever find someone like that. I thought of the drenched black mess my face probably was at that instant.

I started to sob in the middle of the isle, collapsing on mum and crying.

Ah, c'est la vie!

ME: “Hello?”
AMY: “Hey! What are you doing?”
ME: “An obscene amount of nothing. You?”
AMY: “Me and the girls are going mormon streaking. Wanna come?”

*silence*

*more silence*
ME: “In the name of heaven and all that is holy, what is that?”
AMY: “Streaking, you know, except you’re, like, not completely commando.”
ME: “Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll kip out of this one, if you don’t mind.”
AMY: “No, that’s fine, I’ll call you tomorrow. See ya.”
ME: “Bye babe.”

Just a few clarifications for my dearest readers:

• The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints does not condone immodesty or nudity in any form. I realize everything’s relative, but we’re pretty strict here, so I think it’s safe to say that we, as a people, are moderate in dress. I also realize that some Mormons go streaking, (see above) but this is a personal choice propelled by boredom.
• 
  This so called “mormon streaking” is rather silly. Isn’t the whole point of streaking being in the nude? This isn’t streaking, but rather a fatigued imitator of the (in my mind pointless and immature) institution of streaking. So doesn’t wearing underwear defeat the purpose?
• 
  I would also like to encourage those of you who live in the salt lake country to restrict your activities tonight to the indoors, preferably the basement, where view of the outside is limited.
• 
  I would also like to inform you that I have a sore throat- kind of. The left side of my throat is raw and throbbing while the other side is just fine. I am confused.
• 
  Today I got bored and snipped away at my hair a bit. Tomorrow I plan to see a stylist to repair the damage done to my head.
  
  That is all.

Worked on my final until 3:30 yesterday night, or should I say this morning.

Bah.

I’m feeling such a plethora of doubts and questions and misgivings as of late; they beat upon me and to tell the truth, I’m rather frightened. The things that I want to do and the places I wish to go demand individuals from the top, and I’m afraid my incapability will keep me from the top, and therefore prevent me from the things I want to do.

It’s not confusing, in fact it’s quite simple; physics is trying to eat me. The sciences want me dead and disappointed, who am I to defy them? I work and I work and it doesn’t come to me. Bah.

Process design, however, is going well; I actually got a good critique. Yesterday as I was working, or pretending to work while talking with the ever adorable Nick, he asked me what I planned to do.

“I intend to force an epiphany.” I said matter-of-factly.

And force an epiphany I did.

I sat down to work, decided to do something different, and summoned up something beautiful that worked in many ways. But I shan’t jinx it; I refuse to speak anymore about it. So be gone, you evil-bringing viewers! Away!

Mum, Jeff, the bat and I went shopping yesterday in park city. The outlets there are simply amazing; anything can be found for a fraction of the original price. One thing mum found was a book called “The Literary Book of Answers”, in which phrases or parts of sentences from famous literature are placed on each page to create a magic 8 ball concept. You ask a question, open the book to a random page and read. When we first bought it the bat insisted on asking the first question:

“How far is it from here to the southern border of Vietnam?”

Puzzled expressions graced our faces. Even for the bat, the question was completely random and odd. Mum flipped open to a page that read:

“ABSOLUTELY”
-Anton Chekhov: “Uncle Vanya”

So most of the time it doesn’t make sense, it’s just fun to do. Today mum and I played the game.

Mum: Is Rachael’s future husband in her life right now?

I flipped open to:

“YES”
-Hans Christian Andersen: “In a Thousand Years”

It was surprisingly logical and straight forward. Huh.

Mum: “Who is he?”

The next random page read:

“TRY TO BE HAPPY WITHOUT IT”
Charles Perrault: Complete Fairy Tales
“Beauty and the Beast”

Yesterday I informed mum that for Christmas I would like an ipod and exceptionally loud headphones so that I would never have to listen to my family ever again.

For some reason she declined.

 

I love high fashion... 

Yesterday, in the event of a party I was planning to attend with Maile, I actually put on makeup and did my hair (did my hair= brush thoroughly). After waiting for Maile I discovered that she had been caught in her attempt to sneak out and therefore I had no place to go in my new found sexiness.

So I crashed on my couch with my makeup still on.

This afternoon, as I was walking to the studio, I was happy to see that my makeup was still intact and that I looked extremely pretty, and was dressed well in heels and a matching J Jill sweater that hung loosely on my frame, making me look wonderfully thinner than usual. Very Ralph Lauren Ready to Wear Spring 2005.

The walk from the bus stop to the studio is a nice one. I love stalking down a sidewalk in heels, swaying just so, tossing my hair back occasionally. I smile to my self as I see a beautiful man exit the pioneer memorial theatre. The beautiful man turns his head and slides into eye contact with me.

I smile flirtatiously before proceeding to trip and face plant into the sidewalk.

It was a very curious fall, ambiguous in the sense that the cause of it was and is still hidden from me at this very moment; there was nothing in my way nor were the ivory Chinese Laundry pumps that I had found at market square for $11 the day before hard to walk in. I was simply walking one moment and flying in the air with a downward acceleration the next. Curious, to say the least.

“Are you alright?” The man exclaimed as he rushed up to me.

“It’s alright, you can laugh.” said I, observing his admirable constraint. “I’m just fine.”

“Be careful in those shoes” he said kindly, and with that he nodded and walked off, leaving me completely amused and humiliated.

Of course he blames the shoes; I suppose any untrained eye would. But upon close investigation of the footwear one can clearly see that they wouldn’t be the motive behind an unwanted descent of any kind. They have double straps, relatively low stiletto heels of moderate thickness, and an insanely pointy toe. They walk beautifully, easily. It wasn’t the shoes.

I myself blame the silly magazine I was holding at the time I plummeted, which threw off my equilibrium before getting in the way of my attempt to catch myself on the parking meter to my left. Clearly the magazine is responsible.

I continue my journey to the studio, a bit less confident than before. A smile kept on sporadically fluttering upon my lips as I thought of exactly what disturbed expression my face had been contorted into as I plunged to the cement below. Finally the grin pushed through my being and I started chuckling madly as I endeavored to walk. I accepted defeat and stopped walking to stand and laugh avidly. I decided it was best that I had stopped walking as another cute guy strolled past and grinned at the amused beauty giggling in the middle of the promenade; I don’t walk and examine men simultaneously too incredibly well.

I finally made it to the studio and began working. I made a breakthrough today on my project, and I think that the idea I summoned up there is going to work rather well. I was working hard and productively until yet another appealing male crossed my path to mess me up in one way or another.

“Hello.” He said. I smiled and gave a weak ‘hello’ in response.

“Are you in design workshop?” He inquired. He looked of semi-distant Asian descent, with jet-black hair, hazel eyes and beautiful white, straight teeth. I love dark hair.

“Uh, yeah, I have the other period. You have Professor Davis, right?” I stuttered. Bullocks, I can never be smooth when I’m caught of guard.

“Yeah. What are you guys working on?” He walked up to my desk to inspect my desk (or the contents therein, I’m still debating this).

“Folding paper, investigating positive negative space, figure ground, you know.”

“Sounds enjoyable.” He uttered.

“Do you want to tell me what you think of this study? This plane right here, it’s necessary but I’m afraid, um, it’s completely dead and inactivated. What, what do you think?” I asked.

He examined my study for a long time, walking around me, peering into it and around it, just looking at it.

“I hate the pause when someone looks at your work,” I laughed. “It’s painful.” He looked up and smiled.

“I like what you’ve done. I’m not sure what to say, though.”

“I know what you mean. I think the piece is active and intriguing, but from this one angle,” I paced over until I was facing the problematic side dead on, “It looks like nothing, just empty space.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” He said. He studied my work for 3 or 4 minutes longer until. We talked about his work and about class. 10 minutes later I began to start my second study of the day until I glanced at my sketch book. In it I had written my measurements, and I caught the phrase “Top to first incision: 1 and 27/32 inches”. I really didn’t want to work anymore. So I packed up and started to walk out of the room.

“You’re going home?”he asked.

“Yes- my work ethic is dismal if indeed existent.”

“Well, at least you came. See you later.”

I walked home, frustrated with myself. Luckily my journey was completely void of beautiful men, though I doubt I would have noticed, as I was lost in deliberation. The day was frustrating, frustrating indeed.

Well, I suppose men are in general.

you go, brother! 

Today I babysat for Jen, an absolutely wonderful gal from my old ward. Her kids are sweet and a breeze to babysit. They’re extremely easy to manage; my time there consists of playing outside a beautiful, expensive house in their pristine, manicured backyard and playing with the kids. Easy.

While I was there I opened the fridge for a bite or two and discovered some grapes. The box read “Four Star Fruits”. This intrigued me to no end. Naturally, 5 stars is the ideal star allowance that one would crave from produce. A 5 rating is supreme, the best, the absolute and almighty. 4 is good, satisfying, and certainly better than 3 stars but is simply not superlative. How odd to bestow one’s own product with a mere 4 stars.

I opened the box and tasted one.

Lo and behold, it was a four star grape. I was delighted with the sweet, refreshing taste, but elation did not flood my mouth and entire being. It was good, but not the best. Indeed, it was a four star grape.

Never before has a food product, be it produce or otherwise, been so honest with me. I was flattered. Hallowed be the name of this courageous farmer/corporation, let us shower him/her with laud for having the balls to deliver what is promised. I was so happy to know the quality of the fruit with exactness, to the very star.

Blessed, blessed farmer…

Yesterday was a very trying day for me. As I was salivating over my boots on ebay, mum came up to me with a very tempting offer.

“Help out with the paper route for a year and the boots are yours”, she says.

My jaw drops. I despise the paper route; it’s a rip off, it’s menial work and you get all dirty from the ink. It’s stupid.

But the boots! The boots! Look at the boots! They’re beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. They got the best of me.

“Deal.”

We didn’t win the auction, which I think was a good thing. I helped out with the paper route for today and remembered how I loathed it. But I am bootless.

Oh yes, and by the way, a question: does any random soul know what music is playing as Dior's women's fashion site loads? (dior. com, then click on 'women') It's really got an awesome beat so I was wondering if anybody knew the artist/title of song if it is indeed taken from a full song. I’ve been posting this on every fashion forum like mad, seeing as Dior’s RTW is coming up and will therefore change the site (and the wickedly awesome music) If you have an idea, please email me. Come now, what would Ganesh do?

Gucci is magnificent. I can have the most beautiful boots in the world for around $300 here. (ebay item 5326275666, in case the stupid link won't let you see them.)

I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, If I achieve not this young modest footwear! How magnificent they are! I can't rip my eyes off the image, I can't stop imagining the feel of the supple calfskin and the power of the walk in them. How beautiful! Should I save up for these? Dare I try? Oh the upheaval of my soul! The upheaval!!!

*sniffle* I want them. I love them. They're so pwetty!

And look how well they go with Knee length Skirts! Sigh... 

I have found the perfect boots. They are so beautiful, so classy, so $3200. Oh, I am in love.

As I looked outside at the blaring sun that beat down upon the sidewalk ferociously I decided I was grateful to be sitting in an air-conditioned bus, even though the driver was on crack. I had never been on a bumpier, jerkier bus ride in all my life; the stops were sudden and shaky, the acceleration even more so. Poor, poor crack head driver man.

Today I am elated. I have just been informed that the TA thought my fingerprint to be worthy of a better grade, and that three other graduate students saw my work and agreed along with Larry bear (TA).

“In my opinion, grading was the hardest thing. We would go around the room, and he would hand out Bs to work that I thought barely deserving of a D. And then we would come across prints that I thought were A’s, and he would give worse grades. I think you should have done better, you did good work.”

Oh, divine, sweet positive if mild moral support! Ever since being infuriated by the C+ I received on my fingerprint I had truly begun to doubt my capability, and wondering if I had the talent for what I yearn to do. I am very relieved to hear appreciation for what I spent 62 hours on.

Our current project involves folding paper, even though it is not (as Prof. Adams informs us again and again) origami. I’m enjoying it thoroughly; I will have to post a picture.

I step off the bus and hop onto the sidewalk. In 33 minutes I watch the second session of general conference, and then hopefully go shopping for boots. I shall also have to call Elisse again, because she has disappeared. I cross the busy street, wincing into the blinding sun. Soon, I think, soon this heat will flee and the softest white will cover this city.

I don’t know if I yearn for that or dread it.