On Break, and Putting Back Together.

Today was indeed rather interesting. I woke up and had lunch with From Russia with Love and her grandmother. We ate at her grandmother’s apartment, and she had made the best apple pie (there’s probably some in the fridge if ya’ll want some), it was more like a cake than a pie, and it had a gooey center like cheesecake. Oh, it was good. After lunch we looked at some old family pictures, which was actually kind of interesting (It was a little wierd the whole time, because I don't speak Russian and her grandmother doesn't speak english, but I had a great time I really did). Now I’m at work, and blogging of course.

And it’s official, fall break is in full swing. I have nothing to do finally (except work, which is tolerable). However I do think I have a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I firmly believe that you can get that from school. I spent most of the day yesterday shuffling around in a bit of a daze, not knowing what to do with myself. All I could think of is “what do I have to do?” and “there must be something?” and to my irritated realization, there is not. No homework. The plans that I had made for the week, especially those of my darkroom, have all encountered a problem or two of sorts. So needless to say, they are becoming bigger and bigger issues instead of activities. The reading I planned to do is going well, but one can only read for so long.

I finished The Body Artist by Don Delillo, and in short (no pun intended, the book is only about a hundred pages or so) it was fantastic. It’s about a woman whose husband kills himself, and she is all alone in this house she rents, and she encounters this guy who has apparently been living there the whole time. Or has he? It’s a book that ends with you thinking “was she crazy or not?” and not to mention the ‘transcending place and time’ metaphysical thing the guy had going, which also leads to the previous ending question “Is this something amazing she is encountering, or is she nuttier than a squirrel turd?”. An awesome read, with of course DeLillo’s fantastic writing.

And movies I guess- I watched the ending of Elvira and the Haunted Hills. And now I want to see the rest. The movie was a little geared toward kids, but really funny none the less. Especially her heartthrob, a ‘bad romance novel cover type’, who was complete with a poorly done voice over and all. Hilarious I think. Or maybe it was the cure for the bad mood I was in that night and not really that funny at all (“is he crazy or not?”), either way I enjoyed myself with some ‘no-IQ-required’ humor. Elvira herself was actually quite chipper considering that she is older than the haunted house in the movie (about 150 or so). I suppose you could consider Elvira living (or not?) proof that you will get older, but you don’t have to grow old.

T