Day #77 of summer vacation.
09:14 Woke up.
09:25 Searched for jobs.
09:47 Despaired at lack of motivation.
09:58 G-chatted.
10:44 Went to campus to work on internship. First time seeing sun in days.
01:22 Enjoyed sun so much, decided to go to favorite outdoor hotel pool.
01:34 Worked on tan while reading The Count of Monte Cristo.
01:58 Swam. First time not being fat and lazy in weeks.
02:05 Decided I secretly don't want a job.
02:06 Felt better.
02:07 Got kicked out of said pool. Will work on getting different towel, swimsuit, and "I-really-do-fit-in-here" look.
02:11 Despaired again.
02:23 Came home and read inside.
04:19 Practiced hit new song on the guitar.
04:50 Read again.
06:01 Posted on blog.
07:34 Went to farewell dinner and ate large quantities of chicken gyros.
09:16 Sang Norah Jones.
09:52 Told secrets.
11:25 Came home to go to bed.
11:40 Listened to free song on Emusic.
11:45 Looked up English to Latin translations.
12:03 Read again.
12:40 Realized staying up doesn't make the summer go by faster. Finally went to bed.
...only 34 days more to go.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Powerscourt, Co. Wicklow, Ireland.
I know.
I've been so lazy this summer.
I just had to remind myself...and you, dear devotee...how cool I am. Since we all know that cool-ocity is directly related to one's amount of contact with Hollywood, as well as one's ability to confidently make up words, I thought I would show you this:
From "The Count of Monte Cristo."
From MY LIFE.
See? Can't you see? Give it up...for yours truly.
I've been so lazy this summer.
I just had to remind myself...and you, dear devotee...how cool I am. Since we all know that cool-ocity is directly related to one's amount of contact with Hollywood, as well as one's ability to confidently make up words, I thought I would show you this:
From "The Count of Monte Cristo."
From MY LIFE.
See? Can't you see? Give it up...for yours truly.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
The Flume, ID.
One swift-flowing lazy river over a ravine.
One swallow-you-whole rapid to end it all.
Fifty meters of warped and weathered old boards winding across the top.
Three crazy girls.
One sweet sweet memory.
One swallow-you-whole rapid to end it all.
Fifty meters of warped and weathered old boards winding across the top.
Three crazy girls.
One sweet sweet memory.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The dare.
Late one night 3 of my friends and I dredged up some long lost teenage youthfulness and formed a pact. A dare to last 4 days. My lot was two-fold. First, to call 4 people I hadn't spoken to in at least a year. Second, to somehow work the phrase, "My lips itch bad" into our conversation...easy enough, right?
Did you know that most people you haven't spoken to in at least a year don't actually answer their phone when you call? As if they've moved on. As if they think you no longer have anything to talk about. As if.
Naturally I didn't want to call anyone who would find out later that it had all been a dare. That my friendly phone call was really just a joke on them. A pox on our friendship. Better to keep contact impersonal and scarce.
So I did it. Well...I tried. I finally got a hold of a girl from my home ward who's now living out here. We caught up, we talked about getting together, and I asked her, "My lips itch bad, do you think that means I have the swine flu?" Compassionately she told me, "You're probably going to die. There's a 100% chance you're going to die someday." We probably won't speak again for another year.
My second victim was a friend who got married awhile ago and obligatorily dropped off the face of the earth. When I told her my lips itched bad she glossed over it completely as if nothing strange was said...and maybe it's not strange...to her.
Next, a boy I tried...and failed...to date. I got it out of the way first thing. He asked me how I was. I gave him the pre-scripted line. He said, "That's kind of unique...I won't ask for any details regarding that." Then he came over and looked at my lawn. We're going to create flower beds for it this summer.
And that was it. It turns out that when you're in your late-twenties and it's not late at night and you're not with your friends...dares are not funny. None of us finished. I have three random people back in my life and none of us finished. Although I completed the most. Another friend had to invite a single male co-worker to lunch. Well, to pork, really. Every day, for 4 days. She was actually taken up on it once. Another was supposed to approach 4 random people on the street, look in their eyes, and say "Stranger Danger!" She did it once...to small children...on the other side of a fence...who just stared at her blankly. The final dare - the easiest dare - was merely to dance for 30 seconds in a public place. One of our friends does that all the time. In her normal life.
So, I'm pretty sure I should get something. Something for my ill-intentioned self-sacrifice. Something more than a reworked lawn.
Did you know that most people you haven't spoken to in at least a year don't actually answer their phone when you call? As if they've moved on. As if they think you no longer have anything to talk about. As if.
Naturally I didn't want to call anyone who would find out later that it had all been a dare. That my friendly phone call was really just a joke on them. A pox on our friendship. Better to keep contact impersonal and scarce.
So I did it. Well...I tried. I finally got a hold of a girl from my home ward who's now living out here. We caught up, we talked about getting together, and I asked her, "My lips itch bad, do you think that means I have the swine flu?" Compassionately she told me, "You're probably going to die. There's a 100% chance you're going to die someday." We probably won't speak again for another year.
My second victim was a friend who got married awhile ago and obligatorily dropped off the face of the earth. When I told her my lips itched bad she glossed over it completely as if nothing strange was said...and maybe it's not strange...to her.
Next, a boy I tried...and failed...to date. I got it out of the way first thing. He asked me how I was. I gave him the pre-scripted line. He said, "That's kind of unique...I won't ask for any details regarding that." Then he came over and looked at my lawn. We're going to create flower beds for it this summer.
And that was it. It turns out that when you're in your late-twenties and it's not late at night and you're not with your friends...dares are not funny. None of us finished. I have three random people back in my life and none of us finished. Although I completed the most. Another friend had to invite a single male co-worker to lunch. Well, to pork, really. Every day, for 4 days. She was actually taken up on it once. Another was supposed to approach 4 random people on the street, look in their eyes, and say "Stranger Danger!" She did it once...to small children...on the other side of a fence...who just stared at her blankly. The final dare - the easiest dare - was merely to dance for 30 seconds in a public place. One of our friends does that all the time. In her normal life.
So, I'm pretty sure I should get something. Something for my ill-intentioned self-sacrifice. Something more than a reworked lawn.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Jiggity jig.
So I went home for a week recently. My sister was graduating from high school and someone needed to be there to heckle her because my parents certainly weren't going to. Most of the time I spent lounging in my pajamas and Kathryn was out with her friends but one morning we went out to take pictures. I often talk about how pretty my hometown is but I've never had any convincing evidence. Now you can judge for yourself. There's really no reason for you not to be convinced. As we can all see, my pictures do it justice.
Here are some of my sister's:
Here are some of my sister's:
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