I have realized that for the most part, I do not know most of my friends' favorite colors. I do not like that, not one bit. I mean, really, I should know what color connects to, well, (here comes some new-age-y spirit speak) their souls. And another thing that bothers me a bit is how things like ('little') favorites are often left out of biographies. I recently did a mini research project on e. e. cummings and I could not find anywhere his favorite food or color or smell or song or painting or feeling or experience or so on and so forth. I probably will not have a biography written about me, but if by the freak accident that one were, I sincerely hope that they would include at least my favorite color, because it is something that I hold very dear, actually, and I also take so much pleasure from it that it makes a difference in my every day life. I am not going to tell you straight out what it is, so if you really want to know that badly, you will have to ask me yourself. At least for now, who knows, I will probably wind up talking about it later, but then again, maybe not. I heard of this movie called, "The Taste of Cherries" or something to that effect, and I guess one of the characters was living or continued living for the taste of cherries, and I know that it is not this way for most people, but for me that is my favorite color. It is by far not the only thing, but it is certainly on of the things that I live for, for the feeling that I get when I see it. I wonder what e. e. cummings favorite movie was.

re·i·fy ( P ) Pronunciation Key (r-f, r-)
tr.v. re·i·fied, re·i·fy·ing, re·i·fies
To regard or treat (an abstraction) as if it had concrete or material existence.


It's the birthday of artist Georgia O'Keeffe, born in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin (1887). She's particularly well known for her giant paintings of flowers, though she once said, "I only paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move." She said, "Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not." O'Keeffe said, "I know now that most people are so closely concerned with themselves that they are not aware of their own individuality. I can see myself, and it has helped me to say what I want to say . . . in paint." -excerpt from (today's) The Writer's Almanac (go figure...)

History day has come and gone, I, (perennial as always...) survived (that was the big project that I was putting off). I wrote a piece that supposedly condenses all of the research for my project (the influence of the Dayton Hudson Corp. on the development of Nicollet Mall) into a 3 minute and 52 second work of, well, um, not quite brilliance and Copland emulation/channeling. All in all, it is alright but I know that I can do better, and who knows, I just may...

I think that I will try to keep a journal and then I will post bits and pieces of it because when I finally have the chance to actually write about my goings on, I suddenly cannot remember any aspect of my (receexistenceexistance. It is kind of like I am trying to remember what someone else once told me that they did once... sometimes.

Age is a funny thing, no?

and Time, oh, do not get me started on Time.
(Life... don't talk to me about life...)

That reminds me of a poem I wrote for mi clase de espanol, maybe I will post it at one point or another (if I ever get it back...)

For now though, for me at least, I have some serious claymation to enjoy. (Wallace and Gromit-- cheese holidays with wacky vending machines to clean up the moon who just want to ski and ant-eater mice and lawn gnomes, also self vs. self tic-tac-toe... Electronics for Dogs, anyone?)

Well, well, well, here I am again, only one month (and then some) later. I am excited. I am happy. I am doing just fine and will weather the storms with grace. I have fallen in love with flamenco music and dance. I have a very important project for urban geography which I am desperately postponing. I am ready, I just feel that there are better things I should be doing...... like blogging... right... See the thing of it is that because I am going to be going to grab some dinner in about forty five minutes with Jeff that I do not feel like I could really accomplish anything within the remaining time span. Aye caramba! Now that I have stated that, I am afraid that I have to go because I will be quite upset with myself later for spending my time (when I had it) not doing my work. "Be well, do good work, and keep in touch." -Garrison Keilor