For those sharing the Community Bathroom:
You may think that you sing very well, and that may also be true. But it will never, ever sound good at 8 o'clock in the morning to the other three girls showering at the same time. Trust me.

Don't fear the almost completely used roll of toilet paper. Just because it's beneath a brand spankin' new roll doesn't mean that it works any less.

No matter how thorough you think one flush will be, think again.

And lastly, for your own peace of mind, don't glance down beneath the hem of my towel when I walk by you. Chances are, you're not gonna like what you see.

Shabbily Wrapped Presents
Today while eating my breakfast, I read a man's letter to 'Dear Abby' in the newspaper asking advice on dating women. He mentioned that he had been set up on a blind date once, but that when his date opened the door and took a look at him, she immediately fabricated an excuse and shut the door in his face. The Dear Abby ladies recommended trying an online dating service so that he could meet a woman who would fall in love with his personality before writing him off based on his apparently hideous physical form. I shuddered as I took a bite of my Life cereal and felt very sorry for that man.

Honestly, what does one do when he's just _that_ physically unattractive? Is there hope? Will some woman take pity on his soul and love him _in spite_ of his physical shortcomings? I used to think that it was possible to love someone no matter how repulsive his or her exterior was—just as long as the desired heart and the character was there. It seems harder, though, now that I find myself physically attracted to people. That physical attraction is a very powerful thing, and even though it may fade over time in a long-term relationship, I think it's one of the most instrumental things that initially causes two people to fall in love. What happens when it's not there?

That poor man. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love him whole-heartedly, but in the meantime, my heart breaks for him. Especially for the humiliation he endured. May we all become less fixated on the wrapping and value more the contents of the present.

Melting away.
I know not whether I shall perish from the extreme cold outside, or from the stifling heat inside. Ke turned the heat up to unGodly heights and I am preparing to break a sweat. I'm going to wait until she falls asleep—then I'm going to open a window to let the good air in.

For the past few days, Ke and I have been following the reruns of the Bachelor on TV. It's not something that I would ordinarily want to admit to the general public, but hell, I feel like being honest tonight. Basically, I was/am horrified that this guy, Bob, had 25 women all declaring their love for him. The most common declaration usually included something along the lines of "I know without a doubt that Bob is my soulmate." Really? What about the other 24 women who are saying exactly the same thing? I'm not sure which disturbed me more; the fact that the women were declaring their undying love for Bob, whom they surely hadn't known for more than a week, or the unnatural state of things. That is, arranging for a man to have 25 dates for the sole purpose of narrowing it down to a potential wife. It gave me a bad taste in my mouth. And to think, people watched that show purely for its entertainment value. What good could possibly come of these reality TV shows?

Wow, I'm not even going to start on all the Michael Jackson coverage. I watch too much TV. But you know, I really only watch it because Ke has it on all the time. The remarkable thing is that I've learnt to not only work with it on, but to sleep as well. The human's ability to adapt is mind-boggling. And I think that I have run out of things to say. This is good because it means that I can go to sleep now. Hooray. Off I go to secretly open the window and then to sleep for a long long time.

The Gospel of Thomas er... make that Matthew and Luke
Friday has finally come to me. Hallelujah. In Life (intro to Religious Studies, for those of you who don't know) today we talked about the Gospel of Thomas, which I believe I was the only one who read it in preparation for class. It is so difficult for me to sit quietly in this class sometimes. The people in it have the audacity to attempt to refute what our professor says—mostly with irrelevant comments. The unfortunate part about this class is that it is a critical analysis of the bible which requires us to question it (::gasp::). Earlier this week we compared the accounts of Jesus's entrance into Jerusalem found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. In Matthew, Jesus sends to disciples and says, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me." He then proceeds to sit on _them_ and ride into Jerusalem. In Luke, however, he sends those disciples saying to them that they will find a colt that has never been ridden. One colt. That's believable. How exactly does one ride both a donkey and a colt at the same time? Can't you just picture Jesus straddling two animals as he rides, humbly, into Jerusalem. My, how I would love to see such a thing. The point, though, is that Matthew was trying to relate it to a prophesy in Zechariah 9:9, "Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey." So it is in fact one animal, but Matthew was writing based on the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew bible, and those translations were frequently inaccurate. The translation probably became, "... riding on a donkey and on a colt, the foal of a donkey." The implication, which is what outraged my classmates, is that Matthew blundered, and that in of itself threatened their conviction that Matthew was divinely inspired. I, however, was fascinated that such a thing transpired. But as they bitched and moaned about what he was telling us, I could only begin to admire the bravery of my professor in his willingness to teach this class.

At the beginning of this I thought I was going to talk about the Gospel of Thomas. I would continue to write about it here, but I cannot for I have two friends waiting on me to take them out to dinner. Saigon Le. Yum yum, here we come!

8:30ish on a sunny Wednesday morning.
Esta mañana hay cuatro muchachas duchandose. ¡Cuatro! ¡Hay solamente cuatro duchas en el baño! Mi amiga tuve que esperar para su turno y ella parecía tan triste y cansada. ¿Por qué estoy escribiendo en español? Eso es extraño.

I've opted not to take my routine morning shower. I feel sufficiently clean because I showered last night. One issue does present itself, though, and that is the condition of my hair. Since I butchered it a few months ago, I've been waking up every morning with it sticking straight up—only on one side, mind you. My morning showers always alleviate the problem by plastering that side back down to my scalp. The stream of water from the shower heads is very very powerful, you see. I believe it could blast a dog off a firehydrant. But anyway, now I have to find another way to flatten that side of my hair or else the rest of Rhodes will think that my head is shaped like a wedge of cheese. God forbid.

Mood Elevator in Non-pill Form
I think it's wonderful that a song exists that can elevate my mood no matter how down in the dumps it is. What is that song? What is Love!

I can't tell if is the song itself or the SNL skit I associate it with that is responsible for the mood elevating, but either way it never fails. Time to get up and shake my booty!

Sometimes there are some really butt ugly ads on this page. Jesus Christ.

The Knawing C-
So 3 months pass and now I'm in college making C minuses on Art History exams. I'm officially playing the role of the "slow" kid in class who has to spend extra time with the teacher figuring out what the hell he/she needs to do in order to "make vast improvement". Why can't I use the excuse that I have very poor memory and remembering, identifying, and writing short essays about six out of a hundred pieces of art isn't exactly a yummy piece of cake?

Needless to say, I'm unbelievably disappointed in myself. The solution is obvious, but it's not alleviating the knawing sensation I've had in my stomach since I got my exam back this morning.

I suppose what's bugging me the most is that my brother took this same class his freshman year and did very well in it. At the time, he had condemned artificial classroom learning and was planning to drop out of school in order to work on a farm somewhere in middle Tennessee. Yet he managed to make Bs even with that attitude. Attending the same college wasn't such a fine idea. I will forever walk in his shadow, casting a much smaller one behind me.

Yuck, a whiney post. Sorry folks. Better luck for us all next time.

Peacocks and Peahens
Have you ever seen miniature horses, donkeys, peacocks, and a doll house all on the same property? Lemme tell you, I have and it's coooooool. I went with my cousin and her boyfriend, Joe, to his grandmother's house on the outskirts of Germantown. We swam in her pool, petted her miniature horses (I slowly noted that some of them were donkeys, not miniature horses at all), and gathered stray peacock feathers into a huge bouquet. I can't forget to mention the peahens, of course. They were on top of Joe's grandmother's volvo the entire duration of our stay.

I documented all of it on film except the doll house (which is indeed a house that was specially built for the dolls that inhabit it). Apparently Joe mentioned to his grandmother that I had my camera (and intended to use it too!) and she refused to give him the key to the house and then explained to him that if I filmed the inside of the doll house, people would try to break in. Now, I still don't understand the connection between my filming and people breaking in, but I'm not going to push my case because she's a very old lady and it's either her way or no way at all. I guess next time Joe will neglect to mention the presence of my camera. I'm determined to see that doll house.

At the very back of this old lady's property, there is an old house, shack is more like it though, which Joe refers to as the "Evil Dead House." It's old and pretty run down. The screen on the front door has fallen off and is lying flat on the porch and the chimney up on the roof is missing half of its bricks. The cloudy sky added a certain gloominess which increased the haunted appearance of the house. He also took us to the "romantic pig barn" which no longer houses pigs, but still stands nonetheless. There was a lot of miniature horse poo around the barn.

Living, as I do, in the city where most people live about 4 feet away from their neighbors and can mow their entire lawn in about ten minutes, I am amazed by the vast expanse of land that this woman owns. One little ol' woman with her miniature horses, peacocks, and forbidden doll house. Amazing.

Today is Venezuela's Independence Day. Is it just a coincidence that it's a day after ours? There's more than that: Argentina's is on Wednesday the 9th, Belgium's is on the 21st, and Peru's is on the 28th. What's the deal with winning independence in July?