June: Pictures

As promised:




Move-out day pics!

June: Bon voyage

[There are a few sketches I'll upload later, that can go along with this. In any case, to those of you who are flying/planning to fly this summer: *grin* have fun.

I.e. Bring a cell phone. *cough*]

The airport closest to the school was a sprawling monstrosity of chrome and glass—or, in other words, an international airport. Gary thought that he rather liked it. For one thing, it was large, new, and very shiny. It also made his trip to the airport a lot more interesting than it would’ve been had the airport been, say, one of those old dingy places that only hosted a few airlines that no one had ever heard of.

“Thank you, sir, for the, um, ride,” said Nick to the chauffeur. For the fifth time.

“You are welcome sir,” replied the driver gravely, also for the fifth time. Gary snickered. The exchange of politeness was beginning to resemble a ping-pong match.

“It means a lot to me,” Nick tried to explain to Gary, yet again. “The school ended in the middle of the week. It was already hard enough for my uncle to come and pick me up and—”

Gary turned around in his seat and stared at Nick, who babbled on in his own mortification. “Okay Nick? You need to calm down.”

“But I—”

“Chill.” Said Gary in what he hoped was a commanding tone. He thought for a moment, then reached back and proffered the bag of chips that he had been munching on. “Food?”

Quite frankly Gary thought that Mike, dozing off on the seat next to Nick, had the right idea. Sleep was a bit like money—you try to get as much of it as you can, whenever you can.

“Food?” Gary’s voice asked. The question was followed by the sound of plastic crinkling. Mike didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Gary had turned around and was offering Nick his bag of chips. He restrained a snort with difficulty. Someday this particular friend of his was going to have to learn that food was not the ultimate cure for everything.

Just like how Gary had learned that money was not the source of ultimate happiness.

Mike had been particularly pleased when his friend learned that lesson. It had smoothed out a few points of disagreements and made getting along a whole lot easier.

The next time he woke up was when the car was turning and his head had bumped against the window glass. There was sunlight behind his eyelids, beeping sounds in his ears, and a truly awful crick in his neck.

“What did I do?” Nick sounded utterly bewildered.

“You accidentally exited the game,” Gary explained. “I think. Which button did you press?”

“That one, I think.”

A long pause.

“How was I supposed to know which button to press?” Nick wailed. “There’re so many of them!”

“It’s not that bad…right?” Gary sounded confused as well. “I mean, it’s only a cell phone.”

That would explain the beeping noise.

“A cell phone has many buttons, oui?” Nick insisted.

Someone made a sound like a strangled laugh. Mike thought it was the driver. The car turned again, and Mike, keeping his head rested against the glass, drifted back to sleep.

After all, it had been a long night after a long week, and what else were long car trips for?

Nick and Mike stared up at the airplane climbing its way towards the stratosphere. The weather was lovely, but the environment—that of a busy airport full of arriving and departing people—ruined the circumstance.

“There goes Gary,” said Nick, feeling like he should say something, even though there was not much to say.

“I wanna go to New York,” said Mike. He thought about it. “Well, not really.” He sighed. “Com’on, let’s go.”

It was unfair, thought Nick, that his flight leaves last, though he supposed that someone would have to be last. That was the downside to leaving with your friends. When there were more than one people, there had to be someone left by himself at the end.

One to New York City in New York, heart of the media world, one to St. Paul, Minnesota, and one to Paris, France. Marveling at the distance between each of the places, Nick found himself thinking about his friends. His. Friends. In America. He grinned. Three in one year—not bad.

Mike, sauntering alongside of him, gave him a sideways glance. “What’re you grinnin’ at?”

“America is really weird,” said Nick, and tried not to laugh at the expression on his friend’s face.

Mike grumbled something under his breath before glancing at him again. Nick caught the words “Europe and “foreign policy.”

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Never mind,” Mike finally decided, magnanimously, “You won’t get it.”

Well, if it had to do with the American culture….

Nick eyed the t-shirt that Mike was wearing. It was dark blue and had bunnies on it. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

It was definitely a downside that no one really thought about, much less him. The fact that he had arrived at the airport with two friends made the silence after they had left that much worse.

Nick sighed and sat down in a plastic chair by the window, staring up at yet another airplane, growing steadily smaller. Soon it would be just another silver speck lost in the sky. He checked his watch. Another hour and a half to go before his flight.

He drummed his fingers against the edge of the seat for a while, then checked his watch again.

A minute had never felt so long.

Five minutes before boarding, Nick wondered what his friends were doing. Zach would be home now, and Gary would be getting close to where he was to meet his father. Mike would still have quite a few miles to go, though no where near as many miles as he did.

A toddler wandering by stared up at him with large, dark eyes. He smiled at her. She giggled and ran back to wherever she’d come from. Nick straightened his shirt cuffs and tried not to sigh. Ninety minutes was a long time. It made him realize that his cell phone did not have nearly enough games on it, even if it had fewer strange buttons than Gary’s cell phone.

And so, a few minutes later, when the intercom announced the beginning of the boarding process, Nick muttered a relieved “Finalement!” and hurried into line.

Hours later, Nick woke up with his head pressed against the small airplane window to the sound of a fat man snoring on the other side of his seat and smiled to think that he was going home.

the little things

Goodness, I was feeling really nervous this evening. Not at all like someone who's gone through this sort of long-duration-plane-transfer flight 4 times already. Maybe it's cause dad's not coming with us. I dunno.

But you know what unexpected thing suddenly pushed away all nervouseness and made me smile?

We have pre-assigned seating, and when I looked at the row number for the first time today, it said "42".

(:

2 things

Joyous news! Victoria still reads this blog as well! So that's 5 of us Lunatics: Kate, Susan, Anna, Victoria, and me (and I? meh). The Lunacy lives on. What I wonder sometimes though is if any random Internet people wonder over here somehow. I always think of these posts as only us being able to read them because officially nobody else knows about this blog. But it's still public.

Anyway, the other thing: Forgot to say that I have named my new computer Albus. May it be as wise and long-living as its name suggests ;)

The last thing: If you need to contact me for whatever reason try to do so before June 19, please.

Hm, that makes 3 things. I was never good at this forward-counting thing. Gypsy skills don't extend to such petty matters as mathematics.

world, i love you too

Are finals over? Let me ask my right hand that died on me during the final and went to sleep and hurt at the same time. BUT IT'S OK.

Because my shiny Dell laptop was finally delivered, AND the awesome Bon Jovi shirt Kate got me was waiting for me on my desk :D :D :D AND I know Susan has a digital present for me waiting. *hugs the world and forgets all the Econ-related headache she had yesterday*

I SHOULD BE GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT IN THIS PHOTO. I'm sure you can imagine it.



IT MAKES ME LOOK MUCH COOLER THAN I REALLY AM.

Whee.

there will be time..

there just isn't time NOW.

ASDFJKL;

Graduation '06

I made a post on this day last year, so why not this too?
Though I wasn't there (*tear*), I do magically (*cough*) have a picture of Kate in cap&gown. Horray ^^.


Please ignore the caption and the date.
>.>



(:

wheee

[EDIT]
Link #2 http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/comic.php?d=20060513
I'm putting it here 'cause it's also computer-related.
You need to have seen the new Mac/PC commercials to get it. Or get it fully.

---
http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/video/wheee
xD

Well...

It took all of my first year at college, but I finally went out with a bunch of people late in the evening on a weekday and didn't get home until 1am. Woot?

It was a crazy night full of drinks, music, and insane people.

...

Ok so it was actually bowling, and a couple people maybe had one bottle of beer. And everyone was insane only in a good way :) And there indeed were music videos on large screens. They were playing Bon Jovi's "Have a Nice Day" when we stepped in :D

Oh yeah when I told them they could call me "Lucy", these two guys cracked up about how freshman year they were roommates and had a cardboard cutout of a monster from some movie as their third "roommate" that they nicknamed "Lucy". Lucy now resides in one of the guy's parent's garage. I feel so loved.

Ok sleep now because gotta wake up before 7am o.o

June: Winding down

[Someone needs to tell Nick to stop buying into Mike’s innocent looks because there are contemplations of mayhem behind that boyish grin and if he isn’t careful he’s liable to find all of his econ notes turned into paperchains of mobius strips.

And I also don’t know what a chipper Gary would sound like, but I tried. If he sounds like he’s high on something, blame the South Cal heat, which must surely be getting to him.

Posted today as will not have time to finish anything that's readable by the next two Fridays. ]

It began with boxes, and it was going to end with boxes.

“Zach? Zach? Are you—oof—oww—my god—sorry—you ‘kay?”

Zach looked up at Gary blearily from his new-found location. “I’ll live but I—it would’ve—couldn’t you have—knocked?”

“Knockin’s for sissies,” pronounced Gary, eyed one stack of boxes but eventually thought better of it and leaned against the wardrobe instead.

“And the sane, and all those who wish to avoid unnecessary injuries,” added Zach, removing a box of books from his knee, where it was gradually cutting off his circulation. He climbed gingerly to his feet.

Gary threw a careless arm around his shoulder. He was wearing his green contacts. “Zachary, you’ll never learn. We’re men, it’s our duty to go through life an’ accumulate injuries.”

“Until we die from an over-accumulation,” muttered Zach, looked around, sighed, and dumped his armload of books back onto the bed with the various other piles that he had hoped to sort out.

“And sanity—you of all people should know better than t’question sanity where the rest of us’re involved,” continued Gary, ignoring him. “I mean, com’on. A year. A freakin’ year an’ thank god it’s summer.”

“We’ve a few hours left yet!” Zach called after him, but Gary had already sauntered off, perhaps to pester someone else who actually needed to pack for themselves and not just sit back and let the hired help do the work. Though that was only part of it. Zach sighed. Most of it was euphoria, of the sort which took over boys on the last day of the school year and prompted them to do all sorts of ridiculous things such as throwing fruits on top of buildings or getting hideously drunk. He was lucky that all his friends did was neglect knocking and walk into things. It could’ve been so, so much worse.

He looked around the room.

Calling it ‘messy’ would’ve been an understatement. There was clearly a lot that still needed to be done.

“Gah,” said Zach.

Summer was here, blissful, blissful summer from which there was a complete and utter escape from all things academic and all sorts of responsibilities and no need to think about them for an entire two months. The person who’d coined the term ‘heaven on earth’, decided Gary, must’ve come up with the idea right after his term was over.

The weather outside was gorgeous in a way that prevented thinking, the heat rolling in golden waves underneath the bleached sky with a particular kind of lull that encouraged lying about until severe brain-melt—or at least sunburn—had been achieved. There were people out who were doing things other than that though—who had to do things other than that. Gary felt sorry for them—out of state students who had to get things done early to take the first plane out—not that he blamed them, because he was all sympathy with the need to get out of school. It was simply that he thought Nick’s arrangement of packing and an overnight stay at his uncle’s, so that he was leaving at the same time as the rest of his friends, was much nicer.

Something went “thwack” against his back.

Mike was wearing a sweatshirt.

That was the thing about Mike, Gary thought. That was the thing that he seldom was—or did—what was expected of him. You’d think that growing up at somewhere where it went twenty below or whatever it was every winter would mean that he’d have a natural intolerance for heat. Then summer came around and you realized that was not the case, and that Mike seemed to have an uncanny tolerance for temperature change, period. Gary had never seen him wear anything other than two sweatshirts on top of each other for warmth in the winter and he could count on one hand how many times he’d seen him without a sweatshirt—and still have plenty of fingers left. It was a little weird, to be honest, but it also could just mean that Mike was incredibly good at thermoregulation or that he was, as Nick had suggested, an alien from some other galaxy who was planning to take over the world.

“What’re you grinnin’ at?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Um. Nothing,” said Gary, and strove for an innocent expression. Mike looked even more suspicious.

“The innocent look thing,” said Mike, “so isn’t workin. It only works when I do it.”

“It never works with Zach,” Gary felt obliged to point out, “even when you do it. An’ especially when you do it.”

Mike twitched his shoulder. “Oh well. That’s Zach, you know. He’s sorta paranoid. Ish. Anyway—it always works with Nick.”

Getting out of his room had been a good move. It had not been a good move as far as packing went, and it was definitely not a good move in as far as anything vaguely related to efficiency was concerned. However, it did allow him to procrastinate without being made guilty by the reminders all around the room and therefore, as far as Nick was concerned, getting out of the room had been a good move.

Two minutes later he encountered his friends. Yes, getting out had definitely been a good move.

“Did someone say my name?” He asked, by a way of jumping into the conversation.

Mike looked at him. “You know, of all the lines you could’ve picked up from the American culture, somehow you always managed to pick the cheesiest ones.”

“It’s not cheesy,” said Nick, indignant. “It’s classic.”

“No,” said Mike, firmly, “it’s cheesy, there’s a difference.”

“Yeah, one of them could be used t’describe food,” said Gary with a grin, upon which Mike smacked him over the top of his head. “Hey!”

“Anyway,” continued Mike, rolling his eyes. “You done with packin’ already?”

Nick briefly entertained the possibility that maybe getting out of his room had not been as good of a move as he’d thought. He tried to not look too guilty.

“Don’t worry,” Gary chimed in cheerfully, “He’s not done either.”

“Gee thanks, Gary,” said Mike sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow as an indication that he was somewhere between amused and annoyed.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Nick, and meant it.

So getting out was a good move.

[And yes, Lucy, that certain part with Gary was meant to be funny. It was based on something I heard a guy say, and I thought it'd be appropriate.]

music

Huh, have you guys seen this before?
http://www.pandora.com/
You tell it what kind of music you like, and it suggests songs of similar style. Can't say it's done wonders for me so far, but could be interesting.

p.s. Speaking of music.. my 65+ old art history professor started singing "Starry Night"in lecture. Admittedly we were looking at Van Gogh's painting, but he started singnig it pretty much randomely. And kept going and going and sang the whole thing. He's such a lovable old man <3. Except when he talks about boring stuff and we fall asleep.

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.