One day my parents called me up and persuaded me into a logo design contest for a Seattle show: Ron&Don Nation (KIRO 97.3 FM) So one day I busted out three logos and sent them in. Though I liked one best, they were all the product of my hands, and CS2.
Now, one of my logo's is in the 13 and could win the contest! So give it up and vote for #4! I'd be much appreciative, and my Dad really wants those Seahawks tix...
In Eugene, a lot of people ride bikes. Of that number, a significant portion love bikes. And an even slimmer percentage fantasize about bikes. Some of them fantasize about other cyclists.
I happened upon this little gem yesterday afternoon. Another bicycle come on. The thing is, these notes aren't so uncommon. Lovers of bikes = cyclist lovers.
When I was a little girl—actually the whole time I lived with my parents—my mom would ask me to clean up my sprawling clutter, and I would simply re-stack, or push it around. I remember how she would look emphatically into my eyes and say, "THROW. IT. AWAY." Ever since, I've been fascinated with the things people choose to keep or dispose of. I am more of a "just-in-case" keeper, but I've recently noticed another reason for not getting rid of things. And I think it's universal.
When something grosses a person out, it's likely that they will ignore it for as long as possible.
Some people would argue that we're just lazy, but I see it happening around the house with disgusting things in particular. For example, I made a large bowl of macaroni and cheese, leaving it out with a paper towel covering, to keep it from the flies. I offered the leftovers to Will, who ate some and neglected to replace the covering. When I returned to find more mac, I counted my blessings and dug in. Only moments into my second helping, a fly crawled out from inside the noodley caverns. I was disgusted and promptly put the bowl back, with the covering on. I decided that this would serve as the perfect experiment to my theory. When the same Will later discovered that there was more mac, he was about to shovel it in until I told him about the fly. Then, the telling moment: grimacing, he put the cover back on the bowl and set it aside.
And so the stale bowl of pasta sat for about a week and a half. My theory was correct. Instead of immediately disposing of the spoiled food, he ignored it. The ol' out-of-sight-out-of-mind. But it was still within the range of scent. Tonight, I gave in and decided to scrape the thing out. I was, after all, the one guilty of this dirty experiment. To my delight, there was a living surprise waiting inside the moldy orange goop. Well, many surprises.
Now I owe him a new metal bowl and spoon. But the experience of seeing, even cultivating, real, live maggots was truly priceless. I'll have to include an addendum to the lab writeup.
So, you know when you've once been the cream that rose to the top and soon sunk to the bottom of the celebrity barrel when you're Ben Affleck. I was paroozing movie trailers the other night and I happened upon a charming little film called "Extract" with Jason Bateman. When I noticed a suspiciously familiar but down-hill face in the clip, I checked the credits to see who was listed at the bottom with ("He's Just Not That Into You") as notoriety:
If this could happen to him, what could happen to the rest of us? Seriously, though, the movie looks pretty funny.
Well it's my first summer spent here in my collegiate residence, Eugene. So far, it has been a marvelous time, excluding the blistering heat. Going for a bike ride intended to refresh onself felt more like pedaling on a stationary exercise bike inside a dry sauna, in front of a hair dryer. But! those times have passed. And now it's prime time to work on projects and dawdling around, noticing things that are worth less than a penny during the academic year.
Around Eugene, telephone poles are the analogue facebook and craigslist, advertising public events, services, things lost and found. Though some people would say that these telephone poles are no more than cut up, dead trees, I would encourage them to look closer. Look at the layers of paper skins that these things still grow! They have faces! They have souls! I wonder if someone could do a cross section on one of these poles to find out how old they are, in respect to the amount of flyers stapled onto them.
