A week in the life....

So last week, my grandparents went out of town. Well they have a pregnant horse that needs to be fed very regularly and I started off last week without a car so I had to ride my bike about 3 miles roundtrip to get there from the bus. That wouldn't have been a problem except that I haven't ridden my bicycle seriously for about three years. Needless to say, I'm very out of shape...VERY. Haha...I seriously think I couldn't breathe for about thirty minutes after I got there. But I fed the horses, and went up to tend to my grandparent's new kitten, Shorty, who curled up on my lap while we both slept for quite some time. Well, then I went back over to feed and trekked off the school (after taking a shower of course). That was a fun adventure that I had to repeat the following day until Friday, when I discovered that my license had not been suspended, but that it will be if I don't pay my ticket soon. Arg. So this week I get to drive out there which is certainly more accessible by motor vehicle than by cycling—although it would be healthy for this fat ass to be shocked into getting back into shape....which has been fairly neglected for the past month or so.

Which leads me to my next topic of transgression. I have been feeling so ugly for the past week or so. It usually happens when I hit a low from depression. I feel fat and sluggish. I'm not eating healthily at all, and I haven't done yoga for quite some time. I went to a gay bar a couple Wednesdays ago and I got no love—except by a guy who was hugging everyone. So, here I am, my stout, stocky 180 pounds of me, surrounded by (some healthy some not) thinner men who look fantastic. I show up to the bar with a dyke friend of mine, just because we wanted to hang out and sell raffle tickets for SMYRC. I am not looking hot. Here's my look from head to toe: I had on my off-white Old Navy baseball cap, which I have gracelessly distressed; an ill-fitting bright blue sweater that is a really good color, but it's made from really cheap cotton and stretches out awkwardly by the end of the day; I have on my lazy, I'm-feeling-fat jeans that actually make my butt look decent; and my shoes are my two-year-old Nikes that are a little too loved. And the best part is that I didn't shower that day. Well I had a couple guys flirt with me before the drag show started and all the hot guys showed up. (BTW I can't stand drag; it's just not my thing.) So yeah, that little story put a big damper on my second gay bar experience, proving yet again that I just don't fit in with the "scene" in Portland, which is my main reason for disliking P-town to begin with. It's almost as if I need to find a man and then move back here, but what would the point of the be? I know living in places like Seattle and New York are more expensive, but for me it's worth it if I know I can find something do to at any time, day or night.

All right enough mulling, I have to get to class and then later tonight I have to pound out at least two pages for my term paper in art history—which is due Thursday. I have a stack of books about ten inches high at home with research for the Duomo of Florence Cathedral by Fillipo Brunelleschi. It is said to mark the beginning of the Renaissance; it was a controversial design that ultimately ended up changing the face of art and architecture forever. We still define many of our designs today with Renaissance art and architecture. Now to put that in a paper....wish me luck!