ancient man's skinny secrets.

Today:

I watched a short, well versed weight loss video that was obnoxiously floating in my side bar while I was reading things on The Frisky (awesome site).

In golden soothing tones, this man claims that to get rid of a little belly fat every day, there is one golden secret. BUT FIRST, he asks us to think on what ancient man ate. He then wonders aloud, "Were you thinking that ancient man ate many vegetables and rice and fruits back in the day?" and you're thinking, no I have always learned that he lived on a steady diet of mammoth meat and sex alone. I mean not to mention more running around than an olympic runner, the hunting and gathering, the building then taking down then REbuilding of the huts; the fact that everyone had to CARRY their own houses, because they hadn't gotten horses yet.... and as you're trying to remember exactly what it was that they DID eat... he tells you.

He starts with, "They ate meat and fat," (duh) "because veggies and fruits and seeds weren't always in season"/around geographically. And just when you're thinking, "PEOPLE DIED by eating only meat on the Atkins diet! Asinine NIMROD!"--he goes on to say that they had VARIETY in their diets. "Never the same thing twice or the same amount of calories in any two days...In fact"--I shut it off then. Because not only did I learn that info in my Nutrition class last summer, but it's pretty much common sense and practice. You try eating the same amount of calories everyday when one day has nine hours of class and extra-curriculars and the next day has wide open homework/snacking and tea time. One day I demolish a package of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and half a pound of pasta topped with empty calories in two hours, the next day I'm lucky to get a sandwich anywhere remotely near "lunchtime." Ah the perils of being a student. All this leads me to believe that the ten to fifteen I've put on since school began three years ago is stress related. SO. off to the Yoga sites.

I'm knoshing on crackers and cheese for breakfast left over from the gallery opening. I was also blessed with a bottle of juice of which about a quarter is now left.

This weekend I need to think on my life story...I have to tell it on tuesday to a room of semi strangers. although I've actually lived with some of them, I never really got to know them, so they don't quite count as friends. I still don't know where it should start.

I need to begin painting the epic that is Painting 5 homework, two 30x30 canvases, and go to the ceramics studio to throw 15 shaped cylinders on the wheel. I need to trip over to the Printmaking Studio and clear out my drawer because the teachers need to use it for prospective students.

I should finish the print I began in September. It's slightly badass, it's just not done yet. It needs work. Maybe that's where I should go first, to clean out the drawer and get me away from the situation of me sitting in my underwear and looking at the park from my window, alternately staring at my computer. There's cool things on it.

I think I'm going to go eat some cereal.

Today....

Today I checked someone for a concussion who fell on the ice outside the Main Building. Almost having garnered one for myself several times today, I was just glad it wasn't me.

So today was my day to arrange the gallery opening for the Mt. Washington exhibit. I arranged for the food, Washed the table cloths, Gathered my followers, et cetra. So when I showed up (late as usual) to the Gallery opening I was running and the food wasn't there, I panicked. I walked all the way across campus to Student Services, the head of which was supposed to be getting my food. Nobody's home there. While I was panicking and calling people, the food was dropped off in my absence and set up by my friends. The whole thing went off without a hitch, and during the Opening that I ran, I did absolutely nothing. Well, I cleaned up.

Then I showed up ten minutes late to my first class because I was cleaning up from the opening, and pitched my idea for my Painting 5 Diptych. My idea is to do the underside of a Jade plant, as if we were standing on the table looking up at a window through the Jade plant, like it was a tree. I only have baby Jades, but they'll do. My teacher has jade plants of his very own, so he identified with it immediately. I am also one of two people not doing a portrait or a figure in this class. Simple wins, I swear. I am doing a contrast of day and night on the same picture, since we had to use the same image twice.

Then I ran all over god's creation hanging up posters for the show that's coming up next month. I made them, had them approved, but seriously must I hang them myself? There's a gallery Committee, not just me. It took about an hour and a half, and I climbed enough stairs to make my gluts hurt, and was awkwardly stared at by a thousand freshmen as time after time I magically appeared in their common areas toting highlighted pieces of paper. This experience taught me two things:

1. My all access RA Key does not get me into two of the school's buildings, one of which is a dorm. In case of an emergency I am supposed to be able to get into all buildings at all times.
2. My boyfriend resents his niceness. He drove a girl to the pharmacy to get her meds today, and the wait was very long. When he dropped her off I happened to be hanging posters in her dorm. So he waited for me, and then on the way home, complained about her incessant chatter while they were waiting for the meds.

That was all for today.

Irony?

Today it snowed. In fact, it was not only snowing, it was still snowing. As in, since the night before. I struggled to lift my short legs above the deep snow of the non shoveled sidewalk while I carried my heavy bags full of painting supplies, because the people who own the Church are oh so considerate, when I came to the street unexpectedly. Looking down at your footing can do that to you. Crossing this particular street is never fun, because the lights aren't timed well. There's never a time when there aren't cars hurtling at you.

I know the law says that people in NH are supposed to yield to pedestrians, but people in NH have never looked kindly upon "The Man" and his rules. for that reason, I look both ways. After a tiny silver hundai passes me, the road is clear, so I step out gingerly, not wanting to slip out into "traffic" and become a road waffle. As I near the middle of the street, I hear the familiar rev of an engine gunning for it.

Looking up expecting to see some jackass teenager in an SUV who cut fourth period, I spy a most curious sight. A Hearse is flying at me at about 40 miles per hour, on a City Street, in the middle of a snowstorm. A snowstorm people. So I do the sensible thing and stand in the middle of the street wondering if this is an Omen? a Sign?

As I ran from the street and got mercilessly splashed by a wave of nasty dirt flavored slush, I wondered one final thought before I started to freeze in sincerity; If a Hearse hits someone and kills them, is it bad or good for business?

Day One

Hello No-one. I am playing with the colors on this blog instead of doing my Waterbased Media homework.

It started because I am taking a Storytelling class, and I need to keep a journal for it. Nothing deep and touching, just about ideas and class experiences. SO I was thinking, thousands of other people have blogs and blog about their dumb ideas, why not me? I have thoughts. Right now the foremost thought of mine is that the girls I RA for are being very loud for after quiet hours.

I was thinking about stories and about how we really become our own beings when we start having stories of our own, and stop being our mother's stories. We've all heard those stories from our mothers; mine's about how my amniotic fluid DESTROYED an Obstetrician's pair of new shoes, because I was two weeks late and thus my amniotic fluid was incredibly gross and rife with unpleasantness.

That is one of my favorite stories. Who am I to tell it though? I wasn't there, I was, but I wasn't. I don't remember it at all, I wasn't technically even born yet, so it isn't really MY story to tell, no matter how grand an entrance I made. So I believe that the day we stop being infants and babies that live only in their mothers' tales, indeed the day we start being people is when we begin having our own stories to tell.