impending winter aches
November 1. 2000
cold and dark:
Penrose hall at night - the set of windows at the top and far right is where I take my painting class.
clouds and sky and trees
I came out of painting class to find a brown paper Starbucks napkin tucked under the windshield wiper of my car. On it was written "nice parking job asshole" in rather large, crude letters, in blue inkpen.
This has pretty much been how my life has been lately.
Yes, I was outside the lines. The spaces in the school parking lot are insanely small, and the person aside of me was also outside the lines, so I had no choice but to park outside the lines as well in order to even be able to exit my car. It wasn't my fault, dammit. In the urban parking lot jungle it is each driver for themselves... survivor of the fittest. I scraped someone's car a few weeks ago. Did I leave insurance information? No. I carefully pulled out of the space I was attempting to enter and parked on the other side of the lot so the poor schmuck wouldn't even suspect it was me and Bessie who were guilty.
Anyway, when I read what was written on the napkin, I was at first pissed. I was poised with sharpie in hand trying to come up with a better comeback other than "fuck you too" to leave on their car, when I was struck by the ridiculousness of all of this, and threw the napkin away.
I went to B&N right after painting class to check my hours for the next few weeks. While in the breakroom I glanced at my reflection in the large round mirror hung on the wall. My face was streaked with blue paint. I immediately freaked out then at the realization that I had walked across campus, gone to get gas and walked through a large, crowded bookstore with blue paint on my face and NO ONE EVEN TOLD ME.
Now, I may be in the minority here, but when a person whom I know and possibly even like has a booger hanging out of their nose, or food around their mouth or paint streaked across their face, I WILL TELL THEM. That's common decency, people.
My jewelry project is coming along well. I cast the piece on Tuesday. Casting silver includes using an alarmingly huge torch that produces a flame about two feet long. I am somewhat afraid of hot things, so by the time it was my turn I was shaking like a leaf. Daniella asked me repeatedly if I wanted her to do it for me, but I was determined not to be a pussy for once. I put on the damn glasses, lit the torch, and melted the metal. I am woman, hear me roar.
Everything cast really well, and now I'm in the process of sanding and filing it down to a beautiful shine, which is an extremely labor intensive task. My arms are aching so much I can feel each bone and joint move, which is a weird and uncomfortable feeling. I went downtown to get some files this morning at this place called AA Abrasives. I was able to get a set of 12 for 6 bucks, plus two others for $3 each. I can't believe I'd live to see the day where I'd get excited about metal files.
Daylight Savings Time has hit me hard. As much as I like winter, I hate it getting dark at 5 o'clock. It just makes me want to curl up in my bed and sleep, and not do the tons of work I have to do. But it's so wonderfully cool and windy and dry. I love it. It's my favorite kind of weather.
I had forgotten that yesterday was Trick or Treat Night. As occupant of an apartment in my complex, I suddenly realized that I was expected to give out treats, and I had nary a snickers to distribute. So I hid in my apartment with the lights all turned out, hunched in front of the blue light of the computer until it was time to leave for class at 6:30, hoping no children would ring the bell. I felt like such a dork.
One Year Ago:
all writings, (c) 1999-2000, BRR