This is my lunch:
Two hot dogs with mustard, mayo, relish, and onions. A bag of Cheetos. A Famous Amos chocolate chip cookie. A Mountain Dew. All for a mere five dollars at the "raise money for military families" tent in the courtyard.
This is what I'm pondering:
1. My Mountain Dew can says "mtn dew". Is "mtn dew" hipper than "Mountain Dew"?
2. Will I carve a mean pumpkin or a silly pumpkin this year?
3. A mean pumpkin, of course. I only carve mean pumpkins. Which maybe has something to do with my childhood.
4. I do really like hot dogs.
5. And Cheetos.
6. But not mtn dew so much.
Wednesday, October 28
Friday, October 23
i probably don't have tetanus - but bears could be anywhere
Now, lockjaw's something I probably don't worry about often enough.
In fact it's not on the list of things I regularly worry about at all. If you could count all the incidences of worrying that I engage in during the course of a year, you would probably find "Raphael's been attacked by a gang of ruffians (or other) while biking home from school at three o'clock in the morning and no one has found him yet is it time to call the cops?" at the top of the list, followed closely by "bears", and, after that, "mountain lions".
But lockjaw is somewhere on a different list altogether. It's on the "Things I SHOULD Be Worried About Such As, For Example, Lockjaw And Accidentally Hitting A Bicyclist During Rush Hour" List.
Because I'm an archaeologist, right, and we're constantly picking up pointy metal debris and climbing barbed wire fences and sorting through piles of old structural material is why I ought to think more about lockjaw. Or maybe not lockjaw per se (which kills one out of five people, by the way - did you know this? And not tell me?) but definitely tetanus vaccinations.
As it is, I think about tetanus vaccinations only on days like today when I am closing a gate and get punctured by barbed wire. The first thing I think is: "Did I get my last tetanus shot in 1998 or 1999?" And then after that, all my other thoughts go straight downhill, and I will tell you it's hard to be an effective instructor when someone says to you, "I think I plotted my rock pile on the wrong side of the center line," and your reaction is: "Center line? Rock pile?!? Are you CRAZY? I'M going to get LOCKJAW!" Or someone says, "An ant just crawled up my pants and it BIT me," and your reaction is: "Don't you GET IT?!? I'm going to be DEAD by MONDAY! Or eating through a STRAW! Or WORSE!!!"
Okay, I didn't really think those things. But I did go get vaccinated for tetanus on the way home from work, so at least now I have matching, hurty puncture wounds on both arms. I'm symmetrical. And according to the adorably cute person named Stephanie who vaccinated me at the Walgreens mini-clinic, I should live through the weekend unless a bear gets me.
Oh, and also? I learned how to run a backhoe yesterday. I dug trenches and didn't swing the bucket into the side of anyone's skull or anything. Although I guess that has to go on one list or the other at this point.
In fact it's not on the list of things I regularly worry about at all. If you could count all the incidences of worrying that I engage in during the course of a year, you would probably find "Raphael's been attacked by a gang of ruffians (or other) while biking home from school at three o'clock in the morning and no one has found him yet is it time to call the cops?" at the top of the list, followed closely by "bears", and, after that, "mountain lions".
But lockjaw is somewhere on a different list altogether. It's on the "Things I SHOULD Be Worried About Such As, For Example, Lockjaw And Accidentally Hitting A Bicyclist During Rush Hour" List.
Because I'm an archaeologist, right, and we're constantly picking up pointy metal debris and climbing barbed wire fences and sorting through piles of old structural material is why I ought to think more about lockjaw. Or maybe not lockjaw per se (which kills one out of five people, by the way - did you know this? And not tell me?) but definitely tetanus vaccinations.
As it is, I think about tetanus vaccinations only on days like today when I am closing a gate and get punctured by barbed wire. The first thing I think is: "Did I get my last tetanus shot in 1998 or 1999?" And then after that, all my other thoughts go straight downhill, and I will tell you it's hard to be an effective instructor when someone says to you, "I think I plotted my rock pile on the wrong side of the center line," and your reaction is: "Center line? Rock pile?!? Are you CRAZY? I'M going to get LOCKJAW!" Or someone says, "An ant just crawled up my pants and it BIT me," and your reaction is: "Don't you GET IT?!? I'm going to be DEAD by MONDAY! Or eating through a STRAW! Or WORSE!!!"
Okay, I didn't really think those things. But I did go get vaccinated for tetanus on the way home from work, so at least now I have matching, hurty puncture wounds on both arms. I'm symmetrical. And according to the adorably cute person named Stephanie who vaccinated me at the Walgreens mini-clinic, I should live through the weekend unless a bear gets me.
Oh, and also? I learned how to run a backhoe yesterday. I dug trenches and didn't swing the bucket into the side of anyone's skull or anything. Although I guess that has to go on one list or the other at this point.
Wednesday, October 21
the sandwich diaries
This is my lunch:
Two slices of Swiss cheese. Three slices of salami. Mayo. Worst sandwich in the history of sandwiches.
This is why I'm so tired:
After class last night, I went to Bison Witches for beer and sandwiches with four other writing students. I got the stool at the end of the booth which made me the tallest and therefore in charge, but I don't think anyone else was familiar with the rules. I had a Stone IPA. I was so tired to begin with that it almost toppled me off the stool. I didn't get home until 11:00 (the Witching Hour). Class ended at nine o'clock (the Bison Witching Hour). But it was totally worth it.
Two slices of Swiss cheese. Three slices of salami. Mayo. Worst sandwich in the history of sandwiches.
This is why I'm so tired:
After class last night, I went to Bison Witches for beer and sandwiches with four other writing students. I got the stool at the end of the booth which made me the tallest and therefore in charge, but I don't think anyone else was familiar with the rules. I had a Stone IPA. I was so tired to begin with that it almost toppled me off the stool. I didn't get home until 11:00 (the Witching Hour). Class ended at nine o'clock (the Bison Witching Hour). But it was totally worth it.
Saturday, October 17
so lonesome i could cry - or at least make out with my computer a little
Living in Tucson makes for a variety of oxymoronic situations. Preparing basil lemon syrup for cocktails on the patio later in the evening (because it's 98 degrees again) after having purchased the Halloween candy comes to mind. I don't know which way is up anymore, frankly.
In unrelated news, I'm not really that lonesome, although I have been spending WAAAAAY too much time with my computer lately. Not blogging, obviously, but that doesn't make it better.
It's true what they say about architecture students. Once they enter the program, they apparently vaporize. Like vampires when they do that thing where they wrap their cape around themselves and vanish in a puff of smoke, and then a wolf howls and a bat flutters up into the shadows and everyone's all like OMG, did you see that? Did that guy in the cape just disappear, or was that a trick of the light? Do you think the bat is just a coincidence? Am I drunk? What's happening? Or whatever.
Only with architecture students, it's not sunlight they worry about. It's normal, daily routines such as doing the drive-through ATM at the bank or arriving home before three in the morning. If an architecture student is exposed to normal, daily life, he swirls a big sheet of vellum around himself and disappears in a cloud of eraser crumbles. And then, instead of a bat, you see the architecture student himself hunched up real small around his laptop, scurrying back to the safety of his cubicle.
At least that's my impression.
In fact, the architecture people over in Raphael's department told his class that a lot of relationships in which one half of the relationship is an architecture student don't make it through the five year program. I think we'll be okay, but it's true that I am alone a lot these days and that I have turned to the computer for companionship. So far we're just friends, but you know how these things can go.
Here's what I've been up to since Raphael left me for Auto Cad:
I've been looking for plane tickets for the holidays.
I've spent a great deal of time memorizing the Anthropologie website in case I have money ever again.
I've spent probably hours on itunes. I would totally make out with itunes if it were at all possible. If my mother, for example, wants to buy me stuff for Christmas, an itunes gift card is an excellent idea. I'm just saying.
I'm Googling things, of course. I'm Banking. I'm YouTubing.
I'm educating myself by watching old South Park episodes because I never watched South Park the first time around and conversations keep going there for some reason.
I'm Facebooking intermittently. (Although Facebook makes me feel vaguely inadequate. Mainly I get on there and look around for three minutes before panicking at all the conversations I've fallen behind on and the birthdays I've missed and the groups I meant to join and the various applications I've forgotten to manage and then I run away. The guilt is staggering.)
I also check my email every twenty-five minutes, just in case. No one writes to me except the Gap and, for some reason, Walgreens, but I like to make sure. What if Walgreens wants to hang out? I'd sure hate to miss that opportunity.
What I'm NOT doing is blogging, homework, or, in general, anything constructive. I'm also not making out with my computer, but if Raphael doesn't get home in time for dinner tonight, that may change.
In unrelated news, I'm not really that lonesome, although I have been spending WAAAAAY too much time with my computer lately. Not blogging, obviously, but that doesn't make it better.
It's true what they say about architecture students. Once they enter the program, they apparently vaporize. Like vampires when they do that thing where they wrap their cape around themselves and vanish in a puff of smoke, and then a wolf howls and a bat flutters up into the shadows and everyone's all like OMG, did you see that? Did that guy in the cape just disappear, or was that a trick of the light? Do you think the bat is just a coincidence? Am I drunk? What's happening? Or whatever.
Only with architecture students, it's not sunlight they worry about. It's normal, daily routines such as doing the drive-through ATM at the bank or arriving home before three in the morning. If an architecture student is exposed to normal, daily life, he swirls a big sheet of vellum around himself and disappears in a cloud of eraser crumbles. And then, instead of a bat, you see the architecture student himself hunched up real small around his laptop, scurrying back to the safety of his cubicle.
At least that's my impression.
In fact, the architecture people over in Raphael's department told his class that a lot of relationships in which one half of the relationship is an architecture student don't make it through the five year program. I think we'll be okay, but it's true that I am alone a lot these days and that I have turned to the computer for companionship. So far we're just friends, but you know how these things can go.
Here's what I've been up to since Raphael left me for Auto Cad:
I've been looking for plane tickets for the holidays.
I've spent a great deal of time memorizing the Anthropologie website in case I have money ever again.
I've spent probably hours on itunes. I would totally make out with itunes if it were at all possible. If my mother, for example, wants to buy me stuff for Christmas, an itunes gift card is an excellent idea. I'm just saying.
I'm Googling things, of course. I'm Banking. I'm YouTubing.
I'm educating myself by watching old South Park episodes because I never watched South Park the first time around and conversations keep going there for some reason.
I'm Facebooking intermittently. (Although Facebook makes me feel vaguely inadequate. Mainly I get on there and look around for three minutes before panicking at all the conversations I've fallen behind on and the birthdays I've missed and the groups I meant to join and the various applications I've forgotten to manage and then I run away. The guilt is staggering.)
I also check my email every twenty-five minutes, just in case. No one writes to me except the Gap and, for some reason, Walgreens, but I like to make sure. What if Walgreens wants to hang out? I'd sure hate to miss that opportunity.
What I'm NOT doing is blogging, homework, or, in general, anything constructive. I'm also not making out with my computer, but if Raphael doesn't get home in time for dinner tonight, that may change.
Saturday, October 3
post-early-fall summer summer. or not.
This is my ninth October here in Tucson, Arizona, and I'm still working out how to determine if it's fall yet. What I have figured out so far is that our seasons go something like this:
winter, spring, early summer, monsoon season, late monsoon season, mid-to-late summer, brief monsoon season recapped, summer summer, high summer, late summer, post-late-summer summer, early fall, post-early-fall summer summer, aaaannd abruptly back to winter.
Like that.
For example, earlier this week, it was 102 degrees for several days in a row. At least two. But it felt like an eternity. It also felt like I was going to die. But that's neither here nor there. and here I am, still alive.
And today, right now, it is 68 degrees. I'm cold. I'm wearing wunna them doohickeys with the long sleeves made outta that fancy knitting-type technology - a sweater, I guess they call 'em out in the cold-parts. And it's supposed to rain. Whatever that is.
So, while I would say we're well into post-early-fall summer summer, I'm not taking my sweater off just yet.
winter, spring, early summer, monsoon season, late monsoon season, mid-to-late summer, brief monsoon season recapped, summer summer, high summer, late summer, post-late-summer summer, early fall, post-early-fall summer summer, aaaannd abruptly back to winter.
Like that.
For example, earlier this week, it was 102 degrees for several days in a row. At least two. But it felt like an eternity. It also felt like I was going to die. But that's neither here nor there. and here I am, still alive.
And today, right now, it is 68 degrees. I'm cold. I'm wearing wunna them doohickeys with the long sleeves made outta that fancy knitting-type technology - a sweater, I guess they call 'em out in the cold-parts. And it's supposed to rain. Whatever that is.
So, while I would say we're well into post-early-fall summer summer, I'm not taking my sweater off just yet.
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