Think I am over my romance with OpenOffice. Just too freakishly hard to open .odt files when I am not at home in front of my laptop.
Not often that I have a meaningful conversation while waiting for the bus. Usually I am approached by people who want a cigarette (I don’t smoke), to know how long until the next bus (because I am either psychic or they are too lazy to stop texting and check on their own smart phone), or if I have found Jesus (pretty sure he is dead, not a missing person, but then again it’s been a while since I’ve seen a milk carton with missing person ads printed on the side). So I wasn’t expecting the talk I had Saturday night.
Sitting in the student lounge in the BP John building at Marylhurst. My first class on-campus starts in just over half an hour.
I’ve been back in Portland four days now, and it still isn’t processing for me quite yet that I am home and that the trip is over. I don’t feel like I am all the way here yet. Feels like I left part of me in Rome and that it is still there, looking at the sun set over a skyline of domed basilicas, tile roofs, and TV aerials.
My home has been an ongoing project ever since I got it. Originally it was supposed to be a quick flip: new coat of paint, re-finish the floors, update the cabinet doors, swap out the plugs and switches for more modern ones. Unfortunately the inspector was a bit less than competent and it’s been an ongoing project ever since.
I’ve always heard it said that blood in your mouth tastes like pennies, that it’s the copper you are tasting. Actually has me wondering if that is still true, if there is still enough copper in a penny to taste that way. Don’t have any pennies to check, at least not any that are clean enough that I’d want to put in my mouth, but I am tasting blood now.
I’ve never liked going to the dentist. Not because of it being painful, and if it is painful your dentist sucks and you need a new one, but because it leaves me in a philosophical sort of mood.
Last night was the Portland Art Museum’s Free Fourth Friday for July, where museum admission was free and it was only five dollars to see the special exhibition of The Art of the Louvre’s Tuileries Garden.
I am reminded of something that one of my writing teachers at PCC said during one of the first days of class, “Three of the most beautiful words you can hear someone say to you, “It’s not cancer.” ”
I don’t know that for certain yet myself, I still have 7-10 days until my lab results come back.