nerds

I know we're meant for each other because in his free time, he has made a fancy graph of the minimum wage since nineteen forty - nine and color - coded according to Senate and House majority parties. I have, on occasion, put just as much time and effort into computer - generated graphics, only my chart depicted mine and my traveling partners' pulse rates at various elevations in Peru.

luxury

There are some serious luxuries that I haven't had time to enjoy this year. This past week I got to wander around Trader Joes, paint my apartment, wait for the paint to dry and paint a second coat, read a book (!!) FOR PLEASURE, shave my legs -- not just a quick five-stroke job as I'm rinsing out the shampoo but a real turn - the - water - down - puff - up - the - shaving - cream full - leg shave. I've also bleached the kitchen sink (several times - does anyone else find pleasure in gleaming white porcelain?), watched an entire season of Queer as Folk, took two long trips to Ikea, and hung out at my brother's apartment.

Life is good.

maestra en entrada

Excerpts from goodbye letters given to me by my fourth graders (spelling unchanged):

"I love you very much. Your the best student teacher I never had."

"Spanish way: Tu eres una buena maestra!"

"Belive in yourself that you can teach well."

"I like you because you tell me to give up or not."

"I will miss you a lot. Have a nice day."

"Your the best student's teacher I ever have for 4th grade."

"I love you very much. Your the best!!! From: Your admire."

"I hope that you remind us."

"Sineciraly, Ismael"

springy apartment!

We have painted! It is fruity! Behold, the new colors of the fantabulous apartment:

The living room is a leafy, olive green.






The dining room is a bright, buttery yellow.






The kitchen is girly pink.






One wall of my bedroom is passion-fruit magenta.






New roommate's bedroom is sky blue,






except for one wall which is lime.

twopiness

My favorite quotes from TWOP's recap of Lost finale:

If you don't know the type, just imagine Lost called up Wealthy Industrialist Central Casting and asked for a self-made man.

"We're just puppets! Puppets on strings!" yells Locke. You mean marionettes? Those SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME.

Desmond says he's going to win this race "for love," and then I throw up in my mouth a little.

She asks him what he's running away from. "I have to get my honor back!" he says. For real, he actually says that. "That's what I'm running to!" And off he goes, up the steps. I have this alternative theory that he's running away from the beautiful woman he loves, who loves him, so he can try to win a race to impress her asshole father for some reason, and will prove such a terrible racer that he will crash his boat on the same island twice, and maybe he should ask himself if that's preferable to being with the woman he loves.

He opens it and unfolds the letter, which is one of those special talking letters that record the writer's voice so you can hear it as you read it.

And it turns out that they're speaking Portuguese, but their accents indicate they're not Portuguese, but, more likely -- and this is just my best guess, mind you -- that they're the children of a Brazilian man and an Estonian woman who spent their formative years in Spain, and then went to London, and then university in Germany and then spent a couple of years backpacking through the Himalayas.

...thanks to ABC for turning the exercise of broadcasting a simple television show into as much of a cynical mindgame as anything Dharma could come up with -- what with the screwy schedule, four clip shows this season, few-minutes-past-the-hour running times, crass projects like books and websites that you like to call "interactive" but are really just excuses to try to grab more advertising revenue...

climber

I have a new favorite band. I'm determined to keep this band the new favorite longer than last week's favorite, Sigur Ros. Sigur Ros turned out to be my favorite band for only two songs on their CD. They only ranked about twenty-six for the remaining tracks. There just wasn't enough melody to pull the randomness together.

This week's fave is CLIMBER. They are sort of Postal Servicey, sort of Radioheady, sort of spinny-ballerina-on-the-jewelry-boxy.

Love affairs are so invigorating.

lazy Saturday

Friday night I was extremely tired, nearly falling over myself trying to stay awake until dinner, which was at seven pm. I had two cups of strong black tea before eating, and they woke me up enough to follow dinner conversation. I was hoping that they would also help me last through the after-dinner activities as well.

When I got to the boyfriend's house, he was dead asleep on his bed, and joy! I wouldn't have to feign enthusiasm at a bar. I woke him up but then we both went to back to sleep at ten-ish.

Saturday morning we woke up at SIX THIRTY. Fully awake awake, the kind that you can't just roll over and go back to sleep. (I already did that at six.) It was a little eery. I'm somewhat used to waking up early, since my weekday routine has carried over into my weekends. But I've never before gotten up at this time and still felt like I had a good rest.

We both got up and got dressed and got in the car to go for a drive. The streets were completely empty. The sun was already shining all over. We ended up at Franklin Canyon and walked around for a bit, looking at the water and the ducks and the turtles and the trees. After a while the joggers started to come around. It was so quiet and relaxing, like a cottage by the lake.

After the lake, we returned to the city, which was still quiet save the early bird yard sale people. The apartment was silent. I read my teacher books, he read the newspaper. We went out for breakfast. We talked about our brothers. When we finally parted ways to do our things, it was only eleven o'clock.

Lazy, lazy Saturday. I love it.