This is an update that is not ready to be written

There's no good way to start out an update about a week that's just been a "barrel of laughs." Not literally. It's actually not been so awesome because I've been wondering where I'm going to live next year: apartment vs. dorm. My studying for Medieval art when something like this:

"Dura Europus synagoge, 250 CE Syria west wall frescos (I think I'll live in an apartment)"
"Dura Europus, Syria, 250 CE Torah Niche (Yeah, an apartment)"
"Dura Europus, Syria, 256 CE Healing of the Paralytic (or the dorms?)"

That leaves me with the grand conclusion of ABSOLUTELY...NOTHING. When it comes to making critical decisions, I've got part of my brain blown away. Let's see the pro and con list I came up with:
Apartment:
1. I can tell people to take their shoes off without seeming anal
2. I can have boys over all the blessed time. I basically could just turn it into a whore house.
3. I have a washing machine and dryer
4. Food will be a bit cheaper. Who needs the dining plan anyway.
5. I will not have to worry about boys walking in to the room without knocking while I'm changing. But actually, if I have boys over all the time, I guess I might have to.
6. I won't have to worry about the mountain of papers surrounding me at the end of each day
7. I'll be out of everyone's way. And everyone will be out of mine.
8. I won't have to deal with smelly people
9. I can start drugs

Dorm:
1. I get to be around people. Who knows, some of them might be cooler?
2. I'll get a steady supply of Roswell at my fingertips.
3. Ok, there are some more benefits

Those aren't exhaustive. At all. Especially for the dorm, but right this minute I'm pro apartment, so that's why dorm is so short. On the back of one of the packets of medieval art I've got a longer list. That was pro-dorm minute.

Anyway, there was basically only one time this week when I laughed, and that was when I went to tutor Darruis. He showed up with this bandaid on his nose and after looking him over for missing teeth or visible bruises, I asked why he had a bandaid on.

"I've got a pimple on my nose," he whispered, looking around to make sure none of the girls heard.

Ok, so me and the be-pimpled seventh grader Darrius started making a card for a girl who's sick in the program. After he saw me draw a flower with more than 3 petals on it, he decided I must be Leonardo DaVinci, so we started drawing. This is what we came up with first:



When I asked him if when he felt like spelling "stupit" right, how he would do it. Because of course he meant to spell stupid that way. He said "oh yeah...stuepit." There is obviously some work to do. Here's the next one:



That's all his work. He wanted to beat me with the amount of pictures he drew. Oh, and I gave him art class .000001 with the ribbons. Ok, so he's no Mary Kate who's been drawing naked people for the past few weeks, but there's some real, raw, unchanneled talent there. It will most likely be channeled into creatively breaking some girl's heart, how to get another pair of shoes, or how to hid his pimples, but it's still there. Pimples! In seventh grade! That's what I've been doing wrong all these years.

So I went to see George Gershwin, Alone, last night. Who says volunteering at the Field Museum isn't cool, I got these free tickets. I did not go alone, and definitely one of my favorite parts of it was at the end when the actor did a mini-sing-a-long with the audience. I really like George Gershwin, and it was nice seeing the older people around and everyone singing because they all remember his music and loved it at one time, and are remembering how much at that moment. And I'm remembering this minute how tired, annoyed, and boring I am. I'm going to go to sleep. Ella Fitzgerald obviously isn't doing a good job of setting my equilibrium right*.



*That's a stupid allusion to Roswell.