chocolate cake.

Do you know what it is like to buy a gigantic piece of triple thick, extra fudgy, chocolatey-chocolate cake from Kahili, to slowly sink your silver fork in, to raise a heaping bite to your lips?

Now, imagine grabbing that whole dripping pile of calories and cramming it, fist after fist, into your pie {scratch that} cake-hole until you are suffocating in the gooey richness. Then, grab a brownie, a couple of cupcakes, and an entire pack of CostCo muffins, and cram it right down your throat. Pour in a gallon or so of syrup (maple, of course) and stick a cherry up your nose. Top with whipped cream.



That is my weekend.





Grabbing a fork.

Thinking Positively

Midterms are kickin' my hinney.
The newspaper is punchin' me in the gut.
Exhaustion is totaling me over.
So I am going to think positively :)
In the last month I have

Celebrated a friends birthday in wacky capitol hill.


Photographed various friends all over Kirkland.


"Salsa danced" or something like it. :)


Fell in love with Fall all over again!


Watched my editor, Lindsey, do this. :)

Mine is a good life.

recipe for recovery

I am in such a silly little funk. I have moments of freedom, but they are rare and almost forced.
What do I need?

To savor this time?

Kirkland

To bear it until the next time?

Thailand

Or just to laugh at myself in the meantime?

tree

Well, I am quite laughable.

Maybe I should start by getting more sleep... Goodnight!

Talon Time

Concept Photo, originally uploaded by ReBekha Michele.

This is the fourth concept image I have come up with for this next issue of the Talon (look for it next week!). The article is titled "Are We Religious Extremists?" and the assignment I was given was to incorporate the AG faith and politics in some way.. yeah, pretty open for interpretation. Well, after many failed attempts of floating Palin heads and awkward flag waving, I finally accomplished this.
What do you think?

Oh, and we won't be using it. Turns out fifth time is a charm and the image I created after this is better suited to the article.

But this one is still my favorite.

*not happy*

I wish I could back up about 12 years and join a nunery. Forgoe all of this unnecessary regret.

Quick Comments:

-My tripod broke in half yesterday at a photo shoot. Don't ask. Add this to the list of things I need to replace before I can truly embrace photography again. *grumble* The photo shoot itself helped, though. Such fun!

-I started to fill out my JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching Program) application today. I am afraid. Afraid I won't be accepted, afraid I will be.

-I logged onto MySpace yesterday. *sigh.* I have little will power, and was dying to read a blog or two. I am re-resolving.

-I am addicted to Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/). I adore browsing other photographers' photo streams. So inspiring and humbling. My current fave: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/

- Derrida destroys my brain.

- Time to study! To Do: prepare French presentation on Switzerland, read The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, skim various chapters of "Testing for ESL"

p.s. (11:09 p.m.) I just spent.... 4+ hours on a 10 minute french presentation. I am such a power point perfectionist!!

pictures

I am having fun with photos again!

1. Wrangler love, 2. Rodeo's End, 3. horse love, 4. wrangler silhouette
Maybe a little bit too much fun... so long productivity!

However, my camera is still frustrating. Damn gears are stripped or something. *grumble*

bloggery bloop.

I am having a horrible time attempting to focus today. This paper is quite pressing, but I can only type a few sentences without completely losing my train of thought. I have officially typed something in every paragraph, but haven't completed a single one. *Sigh*--Sundays.

Last night, we celebrated C's (I feel the need to speak in code now. Partially because it is fun) birthday at M------'s and then C------t. Good food then good (?) karaoke. :P (Can Karaoke be "good"? Perhaps an oxymoron. ) At any rate, we had a good time. C&S, N, B, K, C, and I all kicked back at Mahoney's, then B, K, C, and I met M and J at Crescent and sang it up for a few hours. I was the DD and was therefore given the daunting task of finding parking in Capitol Hill. Not an easy task on a Saturday night. Predictably, we had to walk about a mile in heels (uphill both ways) but at least I only had to pay $5 for parking. Quite a steal.
Highlights of the night:
*laughter in plenty
*C's description of a penal-something-tester. Frighteningly hilarious.
*The KING of all Nachos. Drool.
*A napkin note to B, K, and me: "You three are a scene in a movie. You are beautiful."
*C's rendition of "Respect"
*Strange man to B, me: "You are both so beautiful. Sometimes it sucks to be gay."
*M gracefully kissing/complimenting strangers. She is vibrant.
*C's discovery of the invaluable Black Opal.
*Spice Girls
*Dance Party
*Overnight at C/K's
*Breakfast of bread, green/goat cheese, coffee, and cantaloupe smoothies

I so adore my friends.
I adore blogging, also. Even if poorly and confusingly.
Back to the paper. Later, to dance or not to dance? mmm... dance. :P

Counting sleep

I meant to blog, because I loved the date and wanted to memorialize it. 10.9.8. Brilliant. Ideally, I would have blogged at exactly 7:06. I would have really enjoyed that.
However, I studied instead, worked, ate, and snuggled with Mags. Then, it was choir rehearsal, and by the time I finished watching "The Usual Suspects" with Tristan, it was 10.10.8. Not nearly as cool.
However, thank you, Sarah, for pointing out the date to me. :) Even though I was unable to properly celebrate with a blog, each time I remembered the numerically pleasing nature of the day, I had to smile.

So, goodnight at.... 12.... 12. 12:12. :) There it is.

home

Home has been good.
Now I am ready to go home.

eh

I am pathetic posting yet ANOTHER blog, but I have no other outlet. I don't know who to call.
My grandpa is dead. I am a wreck. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to do, how to be. I don't know if I would rather be alone, if I would rather go out, if I should sleep, if I should jump in the lake and swim away. I don't know how I am supposed to react, how I want to react.

I hate this. I hate being so far away from home. I hate that I haven't even seen my grandpa in a year, I hate being a complete and utter spazmonger. I want everyone to know I am in pain and to share it, and I want to keep it completely to myself and act like nothing has happened.
Something has happened. I know he is happy now, I know death isn't the end, I know I will see him again someday. But I do.not.care.

Pathetic.

p.s. I am flying home tonight. This will make it easier.

Grandpa Jesus

Grandpa Jesus "Jesse" Hernandez is hanging out with his namesake tonight. I bet he already broke out his famous salsa, and maybe even the recipe. He rarely shares the recipe, but I figure this is a special occasion. I can see him pop open a fresh jar while Jesus (The First) snags a bag of chips and a deck of cards. Jesse loves to play cards. Grandma Charlene, in all of her Nazarene glory, would rock back in her chair, flowered night gown flowing, and wag and tisk at his sinful ways. She is probably doing the same thing even know, chidding both Jesuses for gamblin' when they could be doin' something useful, for heaven's sake!

Jesse's accent sang a life of hard work and joy. He couldn't always find the right English words, but I understood what he said, even in Spanish. He always let me eat all the fruit I could pick, and the tangy flavor of wild grapes is the crinkles of his eye and his crackled laughter. He taught me how to milk a goat, how to pick a ripe cherry, and which jar of salsa was best for a little girl who thought she could handle the best.

Grandpa Jesse probably misses his billy goats, the obnoxious things. It freaked me out when they followed me around the yard trying to scratch their horns on me, so I stood behind the fence while Grandpa Jesse kneeled down and scratched them on the head, letting them butt against his knees a little. One hand on his back, he would stand then, smile at their bleating, and creak over to the rabbits cages. He loved all his pets, most of them too old and wild for me to care for, and I bet it is hard for him to be gone and not able to look after them. I hope someone else will let the billy goats butt them. I think they really liked that.

The last time I saw him was a month after Grandma Charlene died. We brought some groceries to the house, set the bags next to empty salsa jars, and picked up a pack of playing cards which were scattered across the coffee table. I found him out in the yard, leaning heavily on a cane and staring at his little goats. He made an effort as though to kneel down, and winced sharply. Noticing me behind the gate he smiled, creaked his way over to the rabbits, and sang back to me, "The grapes are good, mi hija. Have some."

I Want an R.A.

This is the satire I just wrote for Advanced Expos, mimicking "I Want a Wife" by Judy Brady. I had WAY too much fun writing it. Thinking of you, Beff. :)


I once belonged to that classification of people known as resident assistants. I was An R.A. And, not altogether coincidentally, I was a student.

Not too long ago a female peer of mine appeared on the campus fresh from a community college. She has a single room, which is, of course, in the dorms. She is dependent upon her R.A. As I thought about her while I was studying one afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have an R.A. Why do I want an R.A.?

I would like to go back to the dorms so that I can become socially dependent, refresh myself, and, if need be, progress my love life. I want an R.A. who will strive to support me with school. And while she is going to school I want an R.A. to take care of my problems. I want an R.A. to keep track of school-wide events and sport events. And to plan some of mine, too. I want an R.A. to make sure my friends eat properly and are kept healthy. I want an R.A. who will neutralize the floor’s drama and keep us happy. I want an R.A. who is a good nurturing counselor to my floor-mates, who diagnoses their problems, makes sure they have a brimming social life with the boys, takes them to the waterfront, coffee shops, etc. I want an R.A. who takes care of the floor when we are sad, an R.A. who arranges to be available when my friends need extra time, because, of course, I cannot compromise grades in school. My R.A. must expect to skip classes and work and not lose her mind. It may mean a small decrease in my R.A.’s grades from class to class, but I think she can handle that. Needless to say, my R.A. will arrange and sacrifice for the care of the floor while my R.A. is in school.

I want an R.A. who will take care of my obvious needs. I want an R.A. who will keep my hall clean. An R.A. who will pick up after my friends. I want an R.A. who will submit the maintenance requests, vacuum, decorate, keep the bathrooms clean, and who will see to it that all possible paperwork is printed in her personal file so that I can get what I want without leaving the dorms. I want an R.A. who plans the events, an R.A. who plans fun events. I want an R.A. who will set the date, do the necessary research, make the phone calls, advertise it interestingly, and then understand when I am too busy studying. I want an R.A. who will call the nurse when I am sick and sympathize with my stress and lack of motivation for school. I want an R.A. to stay behind when the school takes a break so that she can continue to plan for me and my friends when we come back and want to hang out.

I want an R.A. who will not interrupt me with incessant lectures about my “community responsibility.” But I want an R.A. who will listen to me when I feel the need to complain about a rather difficult floor-mate I have argued with about her lack of respect. And I want an R.A. who will edit my papers for me when I have finished them.

I want an R.A. who will take care of the events for my social experience. When my friends and I are bored out of sanity, I want an R.A. who takes care of the entertainment details. When I meet boys on the brother floor who I like and want to know, I want an R.A. who will have an event planned, will prepare a delicious snack, give it to me and the boys, and not butt-in when I flirt and make them interested in me and my charm. I want an R.A. who will have arranged that the event is private and off campus out of the way so that security does not bother us. I want an R.A. who takes care of the details of our events so that we have fun, who makes sure that we‘re in a great location, that we are given plenty of time, that we are offered a diverse selection of games, that that our juice boxes are replenished as necessary, that our expenses are taken care of as needed. And I want an R.A. who understands that sometimes I need a weekend away with my boyfriends.

I want an R.A. who is considerate of my romantic life, an R.A. who sets me up regularly and consistently with guys who are worth it, an R.A. who makes sure that I am occupied. And, of course, I want an R.A. who will take care of unwanted attention when I am not interested in them. I want an R.A. who takes on complete responsibility for failed dates, because I do not want low self-esteem. I want an R.A. who will match make for only me so that I do not have to clutter up my romantic life with rivalries. And I want an R.A. who understands that my romantic life may entail more than strict adherence to school policy. I must, after all, be able to interact with men as completely as possible.

If, by chance, I find another floor with a more suitable R.A. than the R.A. I already have, I expect the liberty to reject my present R.A. for another one. Naturally, I will expect an immediate, direct change; my R.A. will take the paperwork and be thoroughly accurate in it so that I can leave easily.

When I am graduated from school and have a career, I want an R.A. to keep in contact and continue to validate me so that my R.A. can endlessly mentor and support me through life’s trials.

My God, who wouldn’t want an R.A.