ACT XXI

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I really should get back in the habit of writing every day, if for no other reason than to reflect on the day, sort it out, and put it away properly in my memory, but I didn't want to blog just to tell my one reader (how many are there? Please let me know you exist!) all about my day... What would Aristotle do?

I suppose I'll start with an update of the last couple days. I spent all last week (minus school and work) with Cody, and I am fully confident that once we are geographically closer, our relationship will be as strong as ever. We were both worried that we are beginning to grow apart from each other, and I think there is truth to that, but when we spend time together, I mean real time together away from the Sigma lobbies or Adam's couch, we realize that things will be fine - more than fine, things will be wonderful.


We went to a baseball game on Friday with Adam and Lance. Their seats were half a stadium away, but it was kind of fun watching them through our binoculars. We were in the middle of the drunk section, apparently, which was extremely funny, especially when the drunks started yelling. What do you do when drunks start yelling? Why, yell back, of course! They explained to us that because we were at the end of the row, it was our duty to bring them food and alcohol. When we told them we could only do one of those things, they definitely looked disapointed. I thought they were kidding about the drink orders, but then guys would come back with beers for the men in the seats around them and a small bottle of wine for the ladies. Isn't that a wonderful thing? Not the alcohol, obviously, but that 25 men wearing pants much too tight for any activity besides baseball or scuba diving down in the middle of a field so far away that binoculars are necessary to read the names on their jerseys can create the most unlikely and spontaneous friendships. In the seats around us were two college guys, an older man who has probably been a season ticket-holder for longer than I've been alive, two business men and one wife, and a contractor with his wife and son who spend their Friday nights and Sunday afternoons together, buying each other drinks and hot dogs? That, my friend, is the spirit of America.


We met Kauffman (is it two f's or two n's?), Michael, and Paul (last names witheld to protect the innocent, except for Kaufmann, whose first and last names are interchangable... and he's probably guitly for something, anyway) at a gas station to lead them up the hill to Cody's house. Those three crashed pretty quickly, Kauffman in the armchair, Michael on the couch, and Paul under the stairs. No, seriously, they have a bed made up in there, with lambskin rugs and big down blankets. It's really comfortable. The next morning, Mrs. A (again, last name witheld) made us very yummy waffles with berries, syrup, whipped cream, and ice cream to top. Who puts ice cream on waffles? The rest of the morning was spent playing with their pet birds, except for Michael, who was dedicated to his paper. Kaufmann named one of the birds El Rey because he was independent (?), but I made up a different reason, that he was named "The King" because of the gold feathers on the top of his head. El Rey was apparently very comfortable with Kauffman, because over the course of the morning, he pooped five times on or around him. The bird I was holding bit my earing which freaked me out, so I gave that bird to Paul, who was letting his birds walk around his reclined torso and bent legs. Chelsea came up a little later in the day, just in time to discuss the guys's Torrey papers, play with the birds who were perched on laptop screens, and listen to Kaufmann and Cody read Augustine outloud.



Chelsea and the guys went back down the mountain, but I stayed at Cody's until late Sunday night, helping Cody write his paper and making pizza with his mom. I make killer pizza. Have I mentioned that I love him? I love him!

Monday was pretty normal, just Astronomy and Psychology, followed by a trip to some gorgeous model homes. By the time this is published, I should have some interesting photos following this paragraph of the homes I toured. If you are not interested in design, keep scrolling. The homes had finally broken away from the cliche Meditternean style into a modern, almost ethnic-inspired theme with interesting wood texture and very bright colors. I was up until 1:00 am finishing an interior design project for the model homes, which turned out quite well, I believe.

I loved the bathtub in the middle of the bathroom - it makes bathtub a main activity - is there a better activity than bathtime? No. Check out the tile in the next picture from the master bathroom in the next home.

And is that room not just adorable? The paper lanterns are hung by silver ribbon, and the blue things on either side of the bed are windows drawn onto the walls.

Today started out really well: I painted my toenails. Architectural History was very enjoyable, spent looking at Mr. Swift's photos of Cambodian and Thai architecture. Art was interesting, but not exactly enjoyable. The paintings we studied today were very depressing - The Scream by Edvard Munch, and Self-Portrait and Irises by Vincent van Gogh. Did you know that the figure in The Scream isn't actually screaming? He is actually covering his ears from the scream of nature, asking why humans have invented a false reality. I could explain more, but I know I'm probably the only one interested in that. There was one detail of the painting which I find impossible not to tell: Munch was so passionate and emotional about this painting that the blue streaks around the figure's head in the water were made with the wood end of the brush, carving into the paint. I imagine Munch in paint-splattered clothes in front of this piece of canvas, slightly out of breath with flushed cheeks, creating a masterpiece that would become the most stolen painting in the world. Self-Portrait is a desperate call for help from a man stricken with depression and epilepsy, and Irises is a beautiful but melancholy metaphor of van Gogh's life.

I want to give him a hug.

(That last paragraph was more for my memory than for your reading pleasure. Sorry about that.)

I stopped to get In-N-Out for Mom and me on the way to work, and that's when the trouble started. Back in the parking lot at church, I put Mom's Coke on the roof of the truck next to my iced tea, and slammed the car door closed. The cup was apparently not quite stable, and fell on my head, drenching my hair but none of my clothes in the sticky liquid. I was wet enough for my hair to be gross but not wet enough to go home, so I stayed at work, trying not to touch my head. I left work and came home, greeted by the aroma of spicy tortilla soup Dad had made that afternoon for his family. I have an amazing dad. After dinner, I took Chelsea to Target, where we got some trinkets for ourselves and a gorgeous top for Mom. It's a dusty teal color which makes her bluish-grey eyes pop right out. I think she teared a little.

I'm already looking forward to the weekend. I'm going to Disneyland with Cody, Sydney, and Kauffman (seriously, how do you spell it?) on Friday, then Cody and I are spending a (hopefully) romantic day at the Getty Musuem, possibly the most beautiful structure I have ever seen, housing some of the most beautiful art the world has ever seen. It will be a good day.

Our last trip to Disneyland.

Cody and I were talking about something that is still bothering me: Is color our perception of light energy or a property of the object? Science has taught me all throughout school that color is the white light from the sun being absorbed and reflected by the object and hitting the rods or cones (I don't remember which), which sends a signal along the optic nerve to our brains which interprets the signals into colors. Cody introduced me to an alternate theory, that "redness", for example, is a property of the object, which the object contains that color regardless of human perception of the object. He favors this theory because it means that color is not relative to the observer, but an objective reality that can be described with certainty. However, there is no scientific evidence for the latter theory, but should that necessarily be a reason to dismiss it? I don't think so. Perhaps color is something that should not be defined by science. It makes sense that all people understand the concept "redness" without needing a definition - how do you describe "red", anyway? Passion, vibrance, excitement, which doesn't capture "red" anyway, or by it's range on the light spectrum? What do you think?


Also, what do you think about all of the pictures? Should I keep taking and sharing them?