Ahhh, Molecules

My body completely rejected me this weekend. It threw in the towel. Something like this:

Me: Come on, let's go!
Body: No, thanks, Self. But I am not moving today. Or tomorrow. Sunday's not looking so bright, either.
Me: Oh, well, thanks a lot, White Blood Cells for NOT WORKING!

On a lighter note, being sick did allow me to get reacquainted with my love for sleeping. I kind of wish there was a way that I could watch myself sleeping WHILST actually sleeping, because I think that could be really enjoyable. Just imagine... dreaming about yourself sleeping! How relaxing! Instead I usually dream about studying or cleaning and then wake to find that I was only dreaming and I have to actually do it now that I am awake. Terrible.

In the midst of being sick, my mind wandered to such thoughts like "What could scientists POSSIBLY be doing with their time that they haven't found the cure for the Flu yet?!" and other thoughts like: "I wonder what is inside Nyquil that makes me feel so wonderful..." when I came across this headline at the New York Times:

Ahhh, the Seductive Fragrance of Molecules Under Patent

So this is what all those Scientists are up to. I may have the flu... but at least I smell good.

Stilettos, Pumps, In The Club

"Stilettos, pumps, in the club, whoeva thought that these girls could get crunk!?!"

I've noticed lately that there are an abundance of songs about shoes these days. There are boots with the fur, stilettos and pumps, new shoes that are on, air force ones...

But what about The Real Shoes of Our Lives? Where are the raps about Chacos, the ballads about TOMS, the pop-synth hits about Rainbows or the techno beats about Wallabies?

Anyone who is willing to jump on this bandwagon, we should start composing. I think it could be monumental.

"Chaco, funk, in the club. Who ever thought that shoes smell so yuck?"

I think I'm on to something here, people.

The Cannes Can-Can

Hoorah! I am headed to Cannes... le Festival international du film de Cannes... one of the world's most prestigious film festivals... and needless to say... I am pumped. All I want to do is dance for joy! (Appropriately, I want to dance the Can-Can.)

So I'll be over here, dancing, and yelling HOORAH for France, HOORAH for Films, and HOORAH for Cannes!

J-Walking, or, Why I Don't Want to be a Journalist

About two weeks ago there was a mysterious rumor about a fellow UGA student getting hit by a transit bus while crossing in a crosswalk on Baldwin. (Rumor proved false: he actually fainted. Or something. But no bus.) This kind of information spreads very rapidly around here. Even at a school with over 25,000 undergraduates, I heard about it within 20 minutes and had not even left my house for the day yet.

I kept hearing little whispers about it all day-- speculation over whether it was indeed a bus hitting a boy or a bike running over a stray cat (I was totally hoping for the cat... heh) or whether anything happened on Baldwin Street at all besides the usual mass-j-walking occurrences in between classes.

When I finally got to my journalism class later in the day, talk had started to die down. No one could confirm anything and the people who originally claimed to have seen it disappeared. But since it was a journalism class, everyone was curious about the real scoop. One person in my class had apparently been hiding under a rock or in a cave somewhere and had no idea what we were talking about. He proceeded to get very excited about the prospect of a student getting hit by a bus as it would be a great front page story for the school paper. He was happy about the off-chance that this terrible accident could be a good selling piece for the newspaper.

It was in that moment that I decided I don't think I want to be a journalist.

I don't ever want to be excited about someone getting hit by a bus.

another night with Happy China

Another Night with Happy China

Birds can’t knit, my silly darling sapphire!
Their birdy legs are much to short to reach the wool from the shelf!

Hands to floor and knees to chin I listened. My mother’s voice was thick and breathy, like that Of a woman in love! she said.

Tears do nothing unless we’re watering the flowers, Bee!
Don’t waste them on the sheets!

Head to pillow and palms to quilt I remembered. My father’s house was down the street, To give us more space to explore! she said.

A band is nothing without a tambourine!
It’s the heartbeat and the loose change we find in our pockets!

Feet to floor and arms to chest I watched. My mother always swayed when cooking Because even rice needs rhythm! she said.

An uneaten cookie still has a fortune!
Gotta trust it to come true without you!

Hand to fork and mouth to food I ate. My father always ordered take-out dinner Because only your Mother knows how to cook! he said.

Nerd Love

I love this.

The card, not chemistry class. Let's be for real.

On a similar yet completely unrelated note, I just finished the book Geek Love and it has nothing to do with what you might think. Two nerdy kids on computers IMing eachother smilie faces and LOLing? Wrong. In fact, you are so, inexplicably wrong. Because it's weird. Really weird. I mean, really, really weird. Deliciously weird. I-want-to-read-it-again-because-I'm-not-sure-what-happened Weird.

Yonder Mountain Valentine

The man standing next to me at the Yonder Mountain String Band concert last night reeked of a fun night in downtown Athens. You know what I'm talking about. His date appropriately had a flower tucked into her hair, and they were swaying back and forth to the music. Oh my, were they swaying. Love might not have exactly been in the air, but something sure was. Everywhere, people were fist-pumping for the glory of bluegrass music and finding camaraderie on St. Valentine's day with the help of some illegal, smokable substances.

It. Was. Awesome. Until I decided I'd had enough of hippie fest and was ready to get into my nice warm bed.

Before we left, the man I mentioned earlier tapped me on the shoulder. He asked me if anyone ever told me I looked like Molly Shannon, of Superstar fame. At first, I didn't know whether to be offended or honored. Sure, she's hilarious and got the sweet moves. But my glasses sooo much cooler than hers.

In the end, I decided to find it flattering and proceeded to do the Superstar Dance to the next song, just for my newfound hippie friends.



Man, I love Valentines day.

I Should Have Checked the Weather

I have an unnatural fear of being kabob-ed by an umbrella.

On rainy days like today, they are everywhere-- swirling discs of death with eight prongs of eye-pokers...

Be careful with that thing! We have two eyes each for a reason... one is not a spare just waiting in case the first gets skewered.

Also, silly girls, don't put eye-liner on whilst on the bus. You're asking for it. And I don't think there's a detergent that gets Brain out of clothes.

Why You Should Want to Be in J-School

For my newest photo-story I am working on a profile piece of UGA student Jason Miller, who owns his own production company called Eikon and does other various cool things, like Campus Movie Fest. Basically, I get to hang out with him all semester and take pictures and write a story about him. Journalism is fun. J-School 4 Life.

Here's his video from the festival... sweeeeet eh?