And for those who don't know, in 2005 I lived in Savannah Georgia and worked for the Savannah College of Art and Design. I left Savannah roughly eight months after a this email... packed my bags and rested my head in Maine and Ohio before finally calling Portland Home.
> From: jenniferlevo@hotmail.com
> Date: Thu, 22 Sep 2005 09:54:17 -0700
>
>> Subject: Not for the sqeemish or short attention spans
> Date: Thu, 22 Sep 2005 16:54:17
>
Well, let me tell you folks, I am glad that we are moving into the home stretch of September. I think out of all the months of the year, Sept. is probably my least favorite. Not only is it back to the usual routine, but around here, it's still hot and humid and the only thing that keeps it exciting is a constant threat of hurricanes. In fact, I will even be so bold as to declare Labor Day to be my least favorite holiday! Some might push for Columbus Day to top the list, but at least Columbus Day has a nice little rhyme about it, you know...in 1482, or was it 1492...? anyway...it's catchy little jingle and the holiday has everything Labor Day doesn't have but a day off from work. Basically, you have to know that my Labor Day must have been really bad this year if I'm still thinking about it almost a month later.
>
Let me explain, I had planned a nice little weekend trip to Atlanta to see the Reds play the Braves, go to the new IKEA, and check out SCAD's new ATL campus. However, with gas reaching $6 a gallon in Atlanta (thank you Hurricane Katrina), I figured a trip would not be in the budget for my gas guzzling jeep. So instead, I put myself under house arrest and vowed only to go places I could ride my bike to. I planned a long weekend of relaxing, playing with the dog, watching movies, catching up on my magazines and cleaning. All seemed to be going well until Sat afternoon while cleaning, I shut my bedroom door too hard and I heard a large crash on the other side. Grimacing, I re-opened the door and found my full-length mirror fragmented in shatters all over my hard wood floor. "Great, that's just what I needed", I thought… "seven years of bad luck.”
>
Now, I’m not an overly superstitious person, but the Friday night before hand I was riding my bike home from work and a black cat started to walk across the road in front of me. Taking my fate into my own hands, I hopped the curb and rode my bike on the sidewalk past the cat who had stopped in his tracks looking at me oddly. “Hehehe, that’ll teach the little bugger.” I thought I was ahead of the game, but apparently I wasn’t.
>
Anyway, I think seven years of bad luck is a little drastic. I think it made perfect sense many years ago when mirrors were precious items that were really expensive and lasted for generations, but these days you can just pick them up at the dollar store and at art school, we are encouraged to smash them up to make little mosaics. If everyone had seven years of bad luck, there would be some serious bad mojo out there. Granted, breaking the mirror is a bad thing, but instead of seven years, I gave myself seven days of bad luck. Brushing the event out of mind, I set myself up for seven really, really shitty days.
>
THe next day, Sunday afternoon, I changed from my flip-flops into my tennis shoes for a bike ride downtown. I planned to run some errands, get a good workout in, and get some emailing done. Though, while stepping outside my apartment, it felt like something was in my shoe. But figuring I had probally just dropped a dime or something in it (because sometimes that happens to me), I shrugged and went about my day.
>
After my 45 min jump rope session, I noticed the little shoe sensation again, but I had more errands to run and I’d just figure it out later when I had more time. After I took care of some emails, some grocery shopping, and coffee, I finally made it back to my apartment and my feet seemed to be itching with anticipation. I really had to take my shoe off. However, right before I stepped in my door, my neighbor caught me and started talking. Apparently he had seen a really good movie and wanted to discuss, but I didn’t have the patience to listen, I HAD to get inside and take my shoe off. It was really urgent now. I brushed him off with a comment about my dog and went inside. I threw my bag on the table, tapped my dog on the head, and rushed over to the chair to take my shoes off.
>
Nothing could brace me for what I was going to find. As I unlaced the shoe and pulled it off my foot, I looked at my sock. There, penetrating the woven fabric of my sock was the detached massive prickly leg of a genuine Georgia Palmetto Bug, which had penetrated the woven fabric of my sock. For those of you not in the south, a Palmetto Bug is just a nicer way of saying a “BIG EFFIN COCKROACH!!!!” I groaned and then tapped the shoe upside down so that the remaining crushed body parts could fall from the shoe. I was seriously getting sick to my stomach. The bug had been in my shoe the whole time, all while biking, jump roping, having coffee, etc. The little sensation I felt when I first stepped outside was his little body squirming and pleading forhelp. So, needless to say, I kind of lost my appetite for the remainder of the afternoon.
>
Anyway, the sad thing is, that was only the beginning of my week. I had a whole week left for issues at work, with people, and getting shards of broken mirror glass stuck in my feet when I walked around my bedroom, overdrawing on my bank account (those were the most expensive movies I've ever rented). So, I am only hoping that by telling you this long and drawn out story, that not only in the future will you check your shoes when you put them on your feet, but as self affirmation that my week of bad luck is over and I’m ready to handle October and Columbus Day with anything it can throw at me.
>
> Date: Thu, 22 Sep 2005 09:54:17 -0700
>
>> Subject: Not for the sqeemish or short attention spans
> Date: Thu, 22 Sep 2005 16:54:17
>
Well, let me tell you folks, I am glad that we are moving into the home stretch of September. I think out of all the months of the year, Sept. is probably my least favorite. Not only is it back to the usual routine, but around here, it's still hot and humid and the only thing that keeps it exciting is a constant threat of hurricanes. In fact, I will even be so bold as to declare Labor Day to be my least favorite holiday! Some might push for Columbus Day to top the list, but at least Columbus Day has a nice little rhyme about it, you know...in 1482, or was it 1492...? anyway...it's catchy little jingle and the holiday has everything Labor Day doesn't have but a day off from work. Basically, you have to know that my Labor Day must have been really bad this year if I'm still thinking about it almost a month later.
>
Let me explain, I had planned a nice little weekend trip to Atlanta to see the Reds play the Braves, go to the new IKEA, and check out SCAD's new ATL campus. However, with gas reaching $6 a gallon in Atlanta (thank you Hurricane Katrina), I figured a trip would not be in the budget for my gas guzzling jeep. So instead, I put myself under house arrest and vowed only to go places I could ride my bike to. I planned a long weekend of relaxing, playing with the dog, watching movies, catching up on my magazines and cleaning. All seemed to be going well until Sat afternoon while cleaning, I shut my bedroom door too hard and I heard a large crash on the other side. Grimacing, I re-opened the door and found my full-length mirror fragmented in shatters all over my hard wood floor. "Great, that's just what I needed", I thought… "seven years of bad luck.”
>
Now, I’m not an overly superstitious person, but the Friday night before hand I was riding my bike home from work and a black cat started to walk across the road in front of me. Taking my fate into my own hands, I hopped the curb and rode my bike on the sidewalk past the cat who had stopped in his tracks looking at me oddly. “Hehehe, that’ll teach the little bugger.” I thought I was ahead of the game, but apparently I wasn’t.
>
Anyway, I think seven years of bad luck is a little drastic. I think it made perfect sense many years ago when mirrors were precious items that were really expensive and lasted for generations, but these days you can just pick them up at the dollar store and at art school, we are encouraged to smash them up to make little mosaics. If everyone had seven years of bad luck, there would be some serious bad mojo out there. Granted, breaking the mirror is a bad thing, but instead of seven years, I gave myself seven days of bad luck. Brushing the event out of mind, I set myself up for seven really, really shitty days.
>
THe next day, Sunday afternoon, I changed from my flip-flops into my tennis shoes for a bike ride downtown. I planned to run some errands, get a good workout in, and get some emailing done. Though, while stepping outside my apartment, it felt like something was in my shoe. But figuring I had probally just dropped a dime or something in it (because sometimes that happens to me), I shrugged and went about my day.
>
After my 45 min jump rope session, I noticed the little shoe sensation again, but I had more errands to run and I’d just figure it out later when I had more time. After I took care of some emails, some grocery shopping, and coffee, I finally made it back to my apartment and my feet seemed to be itching with anticipation. I really had to take my shoe off. However, right before I stepped in my door, my neighbor caught me and started talking. Apparently he had seen a really good movie and wanted to discuss, but I didn’t have the patience to listen, I HAD to get inside and take my shoe off. It was really urgent now. I brushed him off with a comment about my dog and went inside. I threw my bag on the table, tapped my dog on the head, and rushed over to the chair to take my shoes off.
>
Nothing could brace me for what I was going to find. As I unlaced the shoe and pulled it off my foot, I looked at my sock. There, penetrating the woven fabric of my sock was the detached massive prickly leg of a genuine Georgia Palmetto Bug, which had penetrated the woven fabric of my sock. For those of you not in the south, a Palmetto Bug is just a nicer way of saying a “BIG EFFIN COCKROACH!!!!” I groaned and then tapped the shoe upside down so that the remaining crushed body parts could fall from the shoe. I was seriously getting sick to my stomach. The bug had been in my shoe the whole time, all while biking, jump roping, having coffee, etc. The little sensation I felt when I first stepped outside was his little body squirming and pleading forhelp. So, needless to say, I kind of lost my appetite for the remainder of the afternoon.
>
Anyway, the sad thing is, that was only the beginning of my week. I had a whole week left for issues at work, with people, and getting shards of broken mirror glass stuck in my feet when I walked around my bedroom, overdrawing on my bank account (those were the most expensive movies I've ever rented). So, I am only hoping that by telling you this long and drawn out story, that not only in the future will you check your shoes when you put them on your feet, but as self affirmation that my week of bad luck is over and I’m ready to handle October and Columbus Day with anything it can throw at me.
>
me and some of my SCAD folks in 2006
No comments:
Post a Comment