Warning

Hello. My name is Adriane and I will kill you with my bare hands if you threaten my bliss.
In this case "you" being equal to spider and "bliss" being equal to bed.

Thank you.

Thoughts for Mikey

It shouldn't take a tragedy to make you realize it's been awhile since you've told your friends and family how much they mean to you.
But all too often, it does.

Things shouldn't end before you're ready for them to be over.
But all too often, they do.

Life is wide and deep and more than we can handle in any given moment, or even in a whole big line of moments, and we're always left wanting more of what we'll never have again. Whether it's one more drink shared with friends, or one more day to walk to class and be bored and make plans for the weekend, you need just one more. Cause you always think, "If I have just one more, this time it'll be different and honest and I'll soak in each moment of it, the width and the depth of it and I'll know it more fully than I've ever known any part of life." But life doesn't work that way. We have to take what we can and hold on hard. Pay attention and soak it in now because life changes and you may never be here again.

Mikey was a guy I knew far too casually and far too briefly. A freshman when I was a senior. A guy who smiled a lot and went about his business having fun and working hard along the way. He died in a car accident. It probably won't make the news outside of the county. The world will not stop and pay homage. But Mikey will be missed by a lot of people. And for them, today, the world stopped a little bit as they paid homage to a good guy who went about his business, having fun and working hard along the way.

Them boots are made for walkin'

And that's just what Huggy's gonna do. Damn those white boots. Hopefully when he walks out he doesn't take Walker and the recruiting class with him.

Adriane's Rules of the Road

When I am running there are two rules. Two rules and two rules only.

1. If you honk, shout encouragement and/or sing "you've lost that loving feeling," you earn instant friend status.

2. If you holler "PICK UP THE PACE" or any similarly disparaging phrases, you automatically get the bird. No hesitation. No questions asked. You get the bird.

Now Playing

Paraguayans - The Bloodhound Gang: "You and me baby aint nothin' but mammals...."

Greeks - The Boys of Delta Upsilon: "Macho Macho Mug, Round 21"

Uh-Oh

There was just the most horrible banging. It shook the house really badly. I was actually scared for a second. I think maybe the girls in the middle were stating their opinion on the matter. Sounded like they voted against the Paraguayans, but it hasn't done any good thus far. We're still pulsating. Maybe they'll call in the noise complaint.

Answer the following question to the best of your ability

It's 1:53 a.m. Which is worse:

A. The Paraguayan party two levels down
B. The drunk greeks down the street

Given the following information:

The Paraguayans are alternating between techno and alternative - our house is pulsating.

The frat boys are singing and the gals are squealing.

The Paraguayans are hotter and probably more interesting, so I'm liable to cut them a little more slack. They're also louder (due to proximity) and they're vibrating my house.

It really is a tough choice. Ultimately I'd say it's going to come down to whoever passes out first. If the Paraguayans pass out and forget to turn off their music it will result in the following equation:
them = enemy for life

If the frat guys pass out first, we could be good, but there's always the potential for a fight, in which case things could drag out indefinitely. As it is, something just got smashed so we should be well on our way.

Now I've heard the old adage, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. And I really have thought about it. But I played sand volleyball in the rain this evening and, with my hair, you can all imagine what the end result looks like. I suppose I could effectively scare them into submission or something, but really the Paraguayans are hot and I'd like to keep that option open. I suppose I could always call in a double noise complaint, get rid of them both at once. I've never done it before and I probably won't now, but if I'm still having this discussion at 3:00 a.m. I might change my tune.

As it is, I'll be drifting off with the sweet sounds of the "Braveheart Theme Dance Mix" and 15 rounds of "Macho Macho Mug" as my lullaby. Gotta love college.

Dear goodness, downstairs they've got a dance mix of In the Jungle....maybe I should make that phone call.

Gravity

I was wearing pants that were a little longer than normal. I moved my curling iron. The vacuum was in the middle of the floor, my plant was behind me. A dirty shirt was flung over the back of my chair. My exercise mat was sticking out three feet further into the room than usual. Gravity was exerting a downward force on me to the tune of 9.8 meters/second squared. There was a chance that I might be meeting someone for a movie. Obviously a recipe for disaster.

You know how people have certain habits that they don't really even realize they have, things they do a million times in a row and never once blink or waver in their motions. Like for instance when I do my hair - I do it in front of one small mirror, then I get up and check in the mirror leaning against my wall, then I check it in the bathroom mirror. I don't even think about this. It just happens.

Well I did my hair and something just happened. I stood up and the next thing I know, I'm on the floor, the chair is flipped on top of me, I'm laying on the vacuum and my plant has just been mutilated. I remember going down, I just wish I knew how it happened.

Who Moved My Cheese

There are some things that just don't fit properly in supermarket aisle designations. Incidentally, these are also the things that aren't sold in enough volume to warrant being placed on the index signs hanging from the ceiling. I say those are the things that need to be on the signs! Everybody knows where to find bread or cereal or soft drinks. But, say for instance, you're looking for a dairy product that doesn't need to be refrigerated..... tricky huh. Or try this one - maple syrup. French fried onions? Trust me, you won't find those items on signs.

I usually go to Wal-Mart and sort of just follow the cart till I end up in front of what I need. I know where it is, I just don't really process what items are around it. Most of the time it's pretty obvious, and I could tell you just using simple logic. Peanut butter and jelly - same aisle. Canned goods all together, condiments neatly lined up, etc. And I get along just fine for the most part, but when I switch it up, there's where we have our problems. I wandered around Dillions for 20 minutes looking for Velveeta cheese before I broke down and asked someone. At which point they told me it was in the aisle with the coffee and tea. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. That is not where it goes.

Parrish Blue

The sky a perfect

Parrish blue, with one bright star.

I should skip my class.








Picture is "Ecstasy" by Maxfield Parrish

Spring's Refugees

Dirty piles of snow
Huddle in the plaza
Refugees displaced
By a change of season
Forcibly removed to the edges
So polite society
Needn't be bothered by them
As they wait
For evaporation.

With My Brother and My Sister Standing By

Last year, about the time I was wrapping things up in Australia, I saw a Time (or Newsweek - I can't remember for sure) magazine in the airport as we were leaving Uluru. The cover story basically said that research had shown that of all the influences in a kid's life, siblings play the largest role in how he/she ultimately turns out. I thought this was quite interesting, but not interesting enough to shell out the money to buy it. I've thought about it since then and want to thank my siblings for all the guidance, support, and well-timed whacks on the head that helped make me who I am.

I'd like to thank Canaan for not letting me whine, for helping me think of a topic for my intercultural communications presentation, for sharpening my corn knife before we went back out after lunch, and for telling me there wasn't a guy within a five mile radius of Aggieville who was worth my time. Although I didn't (and still don't) believe him, I appreciate the sentiment. I remember once when I was out at Hays, waiting for Kristi to get back from a cross country meet, you talked on the phone with me for well over 5 hours. I know we'll probably never do that again, but it really was great.

I'd like to thank Aubrie for helping me decide whether or not I should wear socks to bed, for letting me sleep on the "not fall out side" of the bed, and for holding my hand until I fell asleep. I also need to thank her for helping me re-enroll my freshman year when I dropped all my classes and switched majors after the first week and for not getting too fed up with me when we've been traveling and I take a passive role leaving her to make all of the decisions and read the maps. (But honestly, if I can't even decide whether or not to wear socks to bed, do you really want me in charge?) Thanks for reading over my crappy school papers and fixing my prepositions and what not.

However, I did not appreciate it when you (Canaan) kept knocking me down when I was jumping on mom and dad's bed or or when you hid under my bed and grabbed my ankles at night. I was also pretty ticked when you (Aubrie) took my brand-new eye shadow back to D.C. (it was still in the package!) Um there were several times when you (both) held me down and tickled me till I thought a really bad thing was going to happen all over the carpet and it made me really sad when I heard you complain to mom when I had to practice my saxophone. I was in 5th grade and thought I was pretty cool...

Regardless, the benefits have greatly outweighed the drawbacks and overall I think you're pretty good as far as siblings go. You guys have shown me how to work hard and how to succeed, how to have compassion and forgive, how to laugh at myself, and how to negotiate (I'll wash the pans if you do the plates and silverware...I'll eat your peas if you eat my tuna). You taught me that good arguments are not based on volume and expletives (although they can sometimes be used for effect) and that I'd better bring something substantial to the table to even have a shot at making my point.

I'm sure there's probably more gems of wisdom you've passed along but I'm just going to leave it at this for now. Thanks for everything.

Nerd Love - Part 2

I was in the library, tap tap tappin' away on my machine when a guy walked by. He gave me a sideways glance and said,

"Nice computer."

Nerd Love

I have seen the shape of love my friends and it looks very much like this

Yes, baby's got a brand-new procrastinatin' machine. Don't get me wrong, it won't be all fun and games. There will be some serious, knock-down, drag-out academic endeavors taking place on this desktop. It's just kind of nice, after four years of computer labs and the library, to have my very own computer, where I can have my own bookmarks and settings and a cool picture on the desktop.... At last I've got my very own technological home.


And it has a remote - how cool is that!

6.5 sentences

And I'm having a solo dance party. Music courtesy of the Black Eyed Peas. Shout out to my girl Fergie.

Wireless internet is standing between me and academic fulfillment. Damn the electric fence.

Procrastination/ADD

I’ve written 5 sentences of my 5 page philosophy paper. They’re pretty solid sentences. Good content, nice structure, proper punctuation. Instead of forging ahead, I’m taking a break to balance a carrot on my fingernail and think of witty phrases while I wait for facebook to load.

Adriane... Ad... A.D.D....

Coincidence?
Wanna ride bikes?

Somebody keep The Juice on the DL

There was a short news blurb in the paper yesterday regarding a book by O.J. Simpson. The title? "If I Did It"

In interviews, set to run later this month on Fox, he apparently describes how he would have committed the 1994 slayings of his ex-wife and her friend "if he were the one responsible."

There is so much that is wrong in this whole scenario - I think it really becomes a study in just how arrogantly idiotic people can be. Is it too much to ask that he just fade from our collective consciousness and finish out his days in relative obscurity? Instead he's gotta come out with something new every now and then, just to peel off whatever scabs the involved parties may have been nearly through healing. There was the interview incident where he deemed it appropriate to wield a banana as if it were a knife, making repeated stabbing motions. Now there's this. C'mon man. You got off, consider it a favor from the universe, now do us one in return. The winds blew in your favor. Sail off into the sunset already. Pay your bills. Mow your lawn. Build birdhouses and brush your teeth. Keep to yourself. Above all, avoid the press.

Do it for the* kids.





*your

Of Microphones and Old Men

An empty podium is so potent. The microphone ensures you will be heard. The podium implies people will listen. Important people stand behind them and we all stop talking. They start out with a round of accolades to each other. Thanks and honor all around. It's hard to take seriously.

But the perspective is different if you see it from the side, when you see the guy behind the podium. The legs, the shoes, the fumbling of papers. For the first time you see not a stone-faced man getting blasted in the papers. You see a Grandpa. If the differences in clothing and culture are eliminated, the world's most powerful men become slightly different shaped versions of Mr. Rogers. It's hard to take seriously.

So I wonder, at the end of the day, towards the end of life, after they have spent years making decisions on a global stage, speaking to a world who has no choice but to listen, what is left to old men? The rest of the world is left to either laud or pick up the pieces of their lives' work. They exit stage left and watch from the wings. The future will judge them when it gets around to it. Bodies and minds deteriorate until they can no longer tie shoes or button sweaters. The world finds someone new to put behind the podium.

The White Boots Ranger

So I went to our exhibition game (men's basketball) on Saturday. And the question I have is this - I just found out the answer - yes Bob Huggins does have a wife. The reason I was wondering this was because he was wearing a black suit. And what appeared to be creamy white boots. The shirt was purple. So the more I look at him the more absurd he becomes.

And then he takes off the jacket.

The purple shirt appears to be a t-shirt mock turtleneck. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Underneath a black vest. Double Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. I mean it was Nike, so maybe since we are a Nike school he had to have the logo somewhere. But wow.

And white boots.

Bottom line is Huggins = true dandy. We obviously didn't hire him for his class, his ethics, and I'm wondering about hiring him on the basis of winning either. We hired him for his white boots. End of story.

I'm kind of hoping he keeps this up though. I mean, fashionable coaches are so boring. Let's keep the white boots coming. After Labor Day? Of course, don't mind if I do! It's not like he's never been controversial before. If he can keep the craziness limited to his clothing choices, I don't think there'll be many people complaining. Stay posted for future white boots sightings.

Carrie's Song

There are certain songs that will always put me back in a certain place, a certain frame of mind, a certain camera's image. There's a song, named for a girl who isn't me, written by a guy in a band who never made it. And I remember a group of people who no longer bother to keep in touch. Time moves us along toward ever-new destinations. The song means something different to each of us. But it doesn't matter. At one point in our lives, we knew every word. We stood too close to speakers, breathing in too much smoke, singing it together.


Image from www.scythianmusic.com