To Symmetry

My friend, Caroline, just got back from studying abroad in India for six months. I had coffee with her last week, and I loved hearing all about her time in Hyderabad. While we were talking, she made the offhand comment that they're obsessed with symmetry in India. I don't know why, but ever since then I've been thinking a lot about that. 

I like symmetry as well, but I have come to realize that I am a very unsymmetrical person. I keep a hairband around only my right wrist. I wear one ring consistently, and it is on my right hand. I have three earrings in my left ear but only two in my right. One side of my nose is pierced. I have a cowlick only on the left side of my head. My left foot is a bit smaller than my right. My fingernails are not the same length.

Would I be shunned in India, do you think?

"I Think I See the Light" by Cat Stevens

Who is in charge of the grocery shopping here?

What's the best thing about summer? Yes, the fresh fruit. Also there's no school, but mainly the fresh fruit. Since this should be very obviously apparent to everyone, then why, may I ask, is there ZERO fresh fruit in my house?!

Meltdown

Good things that have happened in the past three days:

• I found and purchased the perfect floppy straw hat
• Hannah and I bought chocolate-covered espresso beans and mini peanut butter cups at Trader Joe's, then had coffee at Caffe Driade (I'd never been there before)
• I finished my Peace Corps Application (finally!)
• I saw Amelie for the first time
• I submitted my first non-school-related short story to an online contest

Not so good things that have happened in the past three days:

• My mini peanut butter cups melted into a soup
• It's so hot outside that I feel like I'm melting into a soup
• The Peace Corps website is under maintenance, so I can't actually submit my application yet
• Pete left for Germany yesterday, and I miss him

La cuisine française est étonnante.

Today I hung out with Amy for the first time since her wedding. We puttered around her apartment for a while, but then we went to Chapel Hill for some crepes. The place is called Crepes Veronique, and the lady who makes them is from France. She also makes her own chocolate, caramel, and vanilla sauces that go on them. It's SO amazing. The kinds of crepes that she makes change every day because she makes them out of fresh fruit from the market. Today I had an apple and cinnamon one, and Amy's had chocolate and vanilla sauces.

I don't know what the French lady's name is, but she's so cute. She was wearing a loose, flower-print dress, and her hair was in a carefree style with some kind of clip. She wore a white apron over her clothes and kept pushing her sleeves up over her elbows. Watching her made me want to go to Europe so badly.

Henry Bread

I love it when my cat, Henry, sits like this. He looks like a little loaf of bread.

let's play a . . . love game? <-- (Lady Gaga reference, whaaaat)

Recently at work, I've devised some excellent ways to pass the time.

Monday I had an eye doctor's appointment, and they dilated my eyes. This always makes me feel very sleepy and loopy for the rest of the day, and when I got to work that night, I came up with this game. The object of said game was to use as many cliche's naturally in conversation as possible -- the more the merrier (haha, chuckle chuckle). The final tally for the night was as follows: LouAnne 0 (big shocker), Cassie and Crystal 2 each, Jason 4, and I had so many I stopped counting (should I be ashamed of this talent)?

My game for work on Wednesday was not nearly as clever as Monday's game and followed along the same lines. The object was to use as many song lyrics in conversation as was naturally possible. Also, you had to imitate the original method and voice that was used in the song. For instance: a Lil Wayne rap needed to be reenacted in a high-pitched, scratchy voice and with rhythm (if possible).

Thursday night was the same game except with movie quotes. It's amazing how the little things in life can entertain people for hours on end.

"You are a Messy Messy Mess." ~Hannah's Mom

I'm in the process of watching my boss's dog, Molly, for her while she's on vacation. Molly is a greyhound, and her color pattern is brindle, so she's really quite ugly. However, she is still a dog, and I love dogs, so don't think she's lacking any affection. Plus, she's very sweet. And soft.

My boss is a 30[ish] year old woman who stands about 4'11" and is one of the most anal micro-managers I've ever met (excluding my stepmother). At work she critiques everything everyone does, and nothing is ever good enough for her. She has a raging temper, but sometimes she can be overly nice. For instance, I had to work on my birthday last year, so she brought me a cake, ice cream, and a present to work. How many bosses do that, I wonder?

Anyways, I'm staying at her house while she's away (because she didn't want Mo to get lonely at night), and it's REALLY messy. This surprised me because she's so OCD about everything at work. When Pete came over last night to watch a movie, he took one step in the door and said, "What a shithole." Too harsh?

I'm just ready to sleep in my own bed again and to feel safe without the lights on at night.

Old [Un]Faithful

My poor car. It's a 1996 Toyota Camry piece of shit, and to be honest with you, I'm a little embarrassed to be seen driving it. It's grey, but has numerous scuff marks on the body from: a) people who think because it's a piece of shit, they can park as close as they want and don't have to be careful when they open their car doors, b) when I was rear-ended last year and never got it re-painted, and c) when I was learning to drive and couldn't tell how close I was to anything.

There is only 1 hubcap between the 4 tires, and two of the letters on the back of the car fell off, so now it says "C A __ R__"  (which I suppose is still accurate, because it is a "CAR").

Oh, and today, the gas tank door flew off while I was driving down the road. I went back and got it, but now it's stuck on with duct tape.

I need a new car.

Couch Potato

I watch far too much TV in the summer. Maybe it's because I don't have enough to do to keep me busy, or perhaps I should just go to bed earlier than I do. I've been on summer break for a little over a month now, and so far I've made it through the first two seasons of Castle and watched all four seasons of Psych. Ouch, that looks even worse in print than it sounded in my head. I think I'm going to go read or work on my short story in  a coffee shop for the rest of the afternoon now. . .

Summer Must-Have

I want the biggest, floppiest straw hat there is.

Why is music so inspiring?

What is it about tunes and melodies that stir my soul and make me want to move my body in ways that my parents would not approve? The music doesn't need words, just something for my spirit to connect with.

"You" by Gold Panda

Curses.

Other than humidity, bug bites are the thing I hate most about summer. I have at least six of them on my legs at this very moment, and not only are they incredibly itchy, but they also do not complement anything shorter than floor-length jeans. 

Plus, since my legs are so pale, the bug bites look like red M&M's on a vanilla-frosted cake (such as the one my mother made for me when I was 8 and had the chicken pox). This also reminds me of the summer I worked at Sonic. . . 

I had been to a bonfire the night before and (of course) got ravaged by mosquitoes. When I came into work the next day, wearing the required black shorts, a fellow co-worker named Chris aptly called me "Skeeterbite." I was cursed with that wretched nickname for the rest of the summer.

Magnetism

Having the windows down enhances the drive. Don't let anyone tell you differently. It's even better in the pelting rain or at night. Oh, and you must blast the music -- make it so loud your eardrums forget what silence was.

Alternate Reality #2

Alright, so if I couldn't be a jazz singer in another life, I would want to be a gypsy -- singer and dancer. They have the coolest outfits and get to travel anywhere in the world. Also, I love the movie where Johnny Depp plays a gypsy, called The Man Who Cried.