Thirty Seven: RA-A-AVE

Twenty dollars worth of glowsticks? Well worth it I'd say. Actually, now that I think about it, that night was terrible. So I take that back. However, I do miss the days when we could put down a couple jugs of Rossi in a night. They rarely turned out well- except for the time when Megan miraculously fell between a number of dangerous objects unharmed- but it was fun all the same. Sitting by the garage, having ridiculous conversations, interrupted by sudden urges to join the dance party or interact with the strange people you would only ever see at the Embassy. I'll miss that place while the Ambassador is away in Italy. In fact, I'll miss her too. Probably a lot more than I'll miss the Embassy itself. Definitely.

Well as a side note- I am currently in Davis packing up to move all my stuff back home. Eric, Victor and I walked around after a lovely dinner (because the weather felt unbelievably pleasant) and played in a kids park. We climbed around and spun on some shit and went on the mini zip line and hurt my shin real bad. So we're walking back home, and decide to stop at our apartment complex's pool and feel how cold it is. I'm wearing a zip up hoodie, phone in pocket. Can you see where this story is headed? If you guessed, "You bent over to feel the pool and your phone slipped out straight into the water," you are correct! SO FUCK THAT. It seems to function decently well still...however, the speaker that I would normally use to talk on the phone, does not work. At all. So I guess speakerphone is my only means to talk to anyone. And this text keeps popping up telling me that "This device is not compatible with iphone software" or something and I'm like, "what device?" and it's like, "Fuck you, you're screwed." My iphone is pretty new, and my contract is nowhere near being over, so either I wait it out for like a year and nine months talking on speakerphone and being bitter, I waste a ridiculous sum of money buying a 4G out of contract, or I pray and pray and pray that this bag of rice somehow knows how to perform miracles and does so while I sleep tonight. I'm not counting on it.

Thirty Six:xiS ytrihT

I had an art show senior year.

I called that painting Amongst Thieves.

I think it was the title of a chapter in Demian.

I went to Power to the Peaceful.

I drew a weird little face.

I painted Sarah's nails.

I did a terrible job.

But I've gotten better since then.

Now I paint miniature landscape portraits on people's nails.

That's a lie.

I still can't paint nails.

Unless they're my own.

Other people make me nervous.

So my tremors act up.

The results are typically colored cuticles.

Thirty Five: D!

Thirty Four: Blegh

Both of these pages really bring back memories of all the weird shit I've done with my friends. (Bicycle-Boxing, for instance. Or Trashed Tuesday on a school night.) And it really makes me miss those friends that I don't get to talk to, see, or be around at the moment. I wish you would all come back to me as soon as possible, so we can do more weird shit and be ridiculous and happy. 

I'm not feeling very well today, along with probably the majority of American adults. Jack and Ginaritas, while sounding like a good idea at the time, were not in my stomach's best interest.