I Found Him Again

All right, so like I promised last week, I got a better clip of dancing man. I had to be careful because if you stand in the open by yourself...he'll come dance by you or dance at you. (Interpret that as you will.) I witnessed this and didn't want to be made the next example: I'm a terrible dancer. However, I believe that what I have captured is sufficient. At least, I'm sure it turned out better than everyone's camera phones. (That's not a subject that is appropriate for me to expound upon at the moment because it will get me too roweled up.) Anyway, here is my last clip of dancing man. I don't want to start looking like the creeper who shows up with her camera every time. You'll just have to witness him for yourself. Be there 12:55 pm on Tuesdays. And if you can't tell where I'm filming at, then you are probably too far away to attend the event. Sorry, find your own local entertainment.

Ate It

Although it took me some convincing this morning, I was able to get myself out of bed and go running. I met up with my friend D---, and we took off for our usual route. As we passed the tennis courts, I noticed a large puddle of water. (It had rained a bit this past weekend.) I didn't think anything of it, that is, until my feet slipped out from under me and almost side-swiped my buddy. I dropped so fast my arms flew up in the air and barely caught the ground before my face. Where were my ice cleats you ask? Well, I didn't think I would need them considering there was only one patch of ice in our entire route. Leave it to me to seek out the sole three foot area of ice and eat it. Yes, before I knew it, I was an inch from kissing the cold, hard ground. I got up slowly and stretched the knee I just knocked the daylights out of. It wasn't that bad though. I checked the damage when we stopped to stretch later. I didn't think my fall cut my skin, but it did. I think it will bruise more, which is nice. Seriously, if you're going to get hurt being athletic, let it leave a mark. Otherwise, you have nothing to say. It only matters if it's generous in its blood spurts, later turns a rotten green or dismal purple, or looks disgruntled (malformed) underneath your skin. Why would anyone want to hear about it otherwise? I did try to take a picture of yet another clumsy moment of mine, but, if you've ever tried, it's very difficult to photograph your own knee (at least I thought so). Besides, I don't think anyone needs to see how truly pasty my legs are. Apparently, I have no pigment, just the occasional flush of pink.

Just a Tuesday

I needed this kid today. It's people like him that make me want to be a better person so I can make others laugh and be happy. Thank goodness I happened to choose a different way of going to work this afternoon, and I will choose this way every Tuesday because I hear that's when this goes down. Same tight, white pants every Tuesday. Sickly awesome. It started from this view when I first saw him.





And then I was lucky enough to get a quick video. Next time I promise to do better because there will be a next time. Well, at least I hope there is; it kind of depends on him, to be honest. 


Anyway, after the performance, he keeps his stone face on, turns off his stereo, and walks off into the distance.

 

Farewell dance man. I love my school.

No Direction

I'm the most unorganized-organized person I know. I have things that are supposed to keep me organized, like my agenda. However, those that have seen it know that it is ridiculously, out of control. (This example of one week is not even bad; I mean, you can still see the blank spots.) I make lists and never check half of the things off. I cross the undone things out and simply move them to the next day. I have lists of lectures that I don't go to, although I have good intentions and make half of them. I have lists of writing ideas. I write down weird things that I witness: my boss dancing (I guess that's what we call it); my Japanese neighbor who happens to walk behind me most days, singing terribly at the top of his lungs (love him, even though I don't know him); and the different things I smell (today it was orange rolls in the math building...who knew they had those in there?). Oh, and let's not forget the noted homework assignments that somehow slip my mind at least three times a week; those are included in my useless planner as well. I really try to be organized, but somehow I mess it up.

Another example would be my morning runs. Every morning? Meh, that depends on how awesome I decide to be at procrastinating.

Let's not forget about my bed. I never make my bed. In fact, I hate to do it. However, I am not able to pile things on top of it unless the cover is pulled over the sheets. For some reason it unnerves me to have things sitting on my sheets, the essence of my bed. So, the cover is usually pulled over the entire bed. I really don't like things on my sheets, especially people.... that makes me sound extremely promiscuous. Promise you, that's not what I mean. You know how people just sit on your bed? Well, that freaks me out unless the blanket is covering everything, most importantly my pillow. Seriously, someone touching my bedsheets or pillow is like someone using my towel: it just sparks an immediate panic, complete with heart tension. Can we say O-C-D?

I also put recipes up on white boards while I cook so I don't ruin my computer (clumsy person here). Do I follow it? No, I usually do something wrong or substitute something else. Sometimes I don't even use a recipe. Maybe I just like going against the rules, sticking it to the man, not that I have a reason to. I mean, what am I proving by adding a little spice to a recipe, or more sugar? Yeah, I walk on the wild side. Here's my latest stroll:


If you couldn't guess, that's taco soup with peaches and hot sauce. I was going for a mango salsa kind of thing. I don't know why I thought it would be good. The point is, it wasn't bad. I think I might put more peaches in it next time. It's okay if you're giving your computer screen one of those odd looks. I know it's an odd/ possibly disgusting combination, but I figure I might as well experiment with food while I can.

Well, I think that is all I'll expose for today.

Farewell Salinger

So remember that one post about my favorites, and how I said my favorite book was Catcher in the Rye? Well, it would explain why I yelled in distress when I sat down at work today and began to check my email.

"No! J.D. Salinger died?" I took a few deep breaths while I stared at the screen in disbelief.

"Don't swoon in there!" Thanks boss. Your sympathy is...overwhelming. (I can't blame him though; I often get expressive about many things--daily.)

But the news is true. According to Time "American novelist and short story writer J D Salinger, author of Catcher in the Rye, died of natural causes at his home on Wednesday, Jan. 27, 2010. He was 91."

I'm sure he died the way he wanted to, but I'm also sure he wouldn't have wanted his death to be announced all over the world. He never was one to flaunt his fame. However, I feel all right recognizing his passing. 

"What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse," (Catcher in the Rye).

I'll catch you later Salinger. I'll read your book this weekend.