requested

me: it's just kind of like "hi, listen to me, because i'm great, happy and thoughtful, but don't get too comfortable because i'm going to smack you in the face, so listen up : i've got a lot to tell you... like this?: i like coffee and i like tea, but there are tough things that hit, and you'll get all apathetic, that's right. but really, it's all simple, and you realize that you're just a little piece of a bigger thing. (which is a relief, if you think about it). and then you calm down again, and we help each other out, because we all have problems, and monumental things happen that really rip your heart to shreds. but don't worry, it's for a great reason, and you'll get bandaged up, and screwed up again, but that's not a surprise at all.
and once in awhile life flat-lines, but keeps going: it's all circular in the end."

it really follows a lifetime.
almost exactly
smack right into consciousness
gets all screwed up
ups and downs
crescendos and drop-offs
then some calm in there
and then you realize
it wraps all around

twinkle twinkle little bat

I live out of teacups.

If it doesn't fit in a teacup or mug, I probably don't dine on it.








Oh wait. I forgot to mention take-out boxes.

Yeah, those too.

mer.

I just sliced my thumb on attempting to pry open my waterlogged iPod.

digits

I've surrendered to the fact that my fingertips will never be cute again. And by typing cute, I really meant clean.

contest

Beowulf. Who would like a chance to see it a couple days before it opens nationally? I have the means to do so for one person. If you'd like to be that person, complete an interpretive coloring page of, or pertaining to, a wolf. Or maybe something like that. It can be visual or verbal. Pictorial or Textual. Send it to me by Monday, 12 November 2007. Buona fortuna.

l'insecte

Heather swallowed a bug earlier. She's also going on a mission.


!!!

there might be something wrong:

My dreams have included:
-a little friend taking a massive hit from a joint the size of my forearm, who then turned into a cat, which ran to the nearest bathtub.
-finding five kittens in my laundry basket, having been forgotten for anywhere between three weeks and three months.
-legal documents blowing in the wind.
-colors.
-clips of the old west, in high contrast.
-more kitties.
-complicated, layered plots involving the Mafia. And yet, they were of no consequence.

Yeah, I don't know either. But I do know that I can describe all of the following scenarios in exquisite, colorful details.

The Arcade Fire & LCD Soundsystem

Hello Darlings,
This was ethereal.
Love, Amy

naughty

Last night's euphoric late-night Princefest was well appreciated.

What a showcase of skill, baby.

we can befriend

Please take note: I don't know this guy.

saqim says:
hello
saqim says:
how are you
saqim says:
heuy
Miss Amy says:
i'm doing well, how are you?
saqim says:
good
saqim says:
u
Miss Amy says:
same
saqim says:
ok
Miss Amy says:
oh, and -who- are you?
saqim says:
aim abdelltif am from moroco
saqim says:
and u
Miss Amy says:
my name is amy
Miss Amy says:
how did you get my email?
saqim says:
hey show me your webcam plesa ok
Miss Amy says:
i don't have one,
saqim says:
ok
saqim says:
where are you from
Miss Amy says:
the u.s.
saqim says:
i love this country
Miss Amy says:
morocco you mean?
saqim says:
the amercan people is very nice
saqim says:
mean
Miss Amy says:
cool
saqim says:
good
Miss Amy says:
so how did you find this email? i never use this anymore
saqim says:
ok
saqim says:
we can befriend
Miss Amy says:
if you'd like. i'm still a little confused how you got this email. plus, i don't speak arabic at all, so this would be difficult
saqim says:
u spek arbe
Miss Amy says:
no
saqim says:
u study or work
Miss Amy says:
both
Miss Amy says:
you?
saqim says:
ok
saqim says:
work
Miss Amy says:
what do you do?
saqim says:
23
saqim says:
u
Miss Amy says:
i have to go to work now
Miss Amy says:
bye!
saqim says:
ok
saqim says:
lake care
Miss Amy says:
you too
Miss Amy says:
have a good day
saqim says:
tomorow
saqim says:
k
Miss Amy says:
we'll see
saqim says:
nice to meet you
Miss Amy says:
nice to meet you too
saqim says:
bay
Miss Amy says:
bye

thank you

To the burly, blond motorcycle man who felt inspired to slow his bike, wink, and twiddle his fingers to wave as I walked by: Thank you. Neither your good deeds, nor your faded-and-fraying, forest-green-button-down-shirt-with-the-sleeves-cut-off went unnoticed. You brightened my day.

international downpour

This is the loudest rain I´ve heard in a long time. I´m in love.


P.S. Don´t tell the dishes.

Austin City Limits

I just bought my tickets!

Roadtrip!

lyrics

I'm almost positive that this song playing here in the gallery says "Captain Nemo said Okaaaaaaaaaay. [Five four three two one!]"

Go figure.


P.S. And then this other one Might be saying "Rockin' the Casbah."

bicycle

Ouch.
Yesterday, I was out bicycling with my Hathacomrades and through a certain alignment of the stars, I fell off my bike.
Truth be told, I turned the corner by 7-11 and had to swerve behind a car and then my front tire skidded off the sidewalk ever-so-slightly, and then I flew. That part was neat. Then my left knee touched down. My right knee did this cool cement-skimming trick. Ooooh, and then I did this wicked break dancing move: you know the one where you balance all of your weight on one hand (my right, in this case) and then your shoulder's all Two-point Balance! and then your hip's like "Man, I want in on this!" Yeah that's what it was like. But the extraordinary thing was that all of my digits on that one hand bent oh-so-backwards, and whoa. My knee was yellow and my teeth didn't crumble out and no holes-in-the-clothes!
So I think Hillo screamed and Heather Gasp'd. Then this Sweet Brah was like "Dude, you okay?" I looked up and thought "Neptune? Pluto? Which time-space continuum did I crash through?"
Oh, I hopped back on my bike and we started riding again, but Hillo was fretting and oohing and ahhing and Heather was quite sensible and "No, Hillery. She hurt her knees, she doesn't need to lay down and put her feet up." But I did it anyway. I think I might have gotten struck by lightning too. But not really. But this jolt of electricity, or maybe adrenaline kicked in and I was amazed.
So cool.
And then Heather was a doll and followed me home to make sure I didn't get picked up by the Bad Men from the Circus, or something like that. And we didn't tell Josh and Caitie inside yet, because it wasn't a Big Deal. And I showered and it was weird because I had to keep myself awake and Lather, Rinse, Repeat. My usually rosy-red face was creepily colorless. And then I recovered because of Josh's Magic Healing Hands, and he was nice. And Heather was good and kept my crashy secret and spoke in French and that was cute.
Caitie gave me drugs. A+.
And we went to the party and the Epic Story of Flyin' Amy had been featured on a channel on La Radio Cocotier, spread from Hillo to Adam to who-knows-who, so all the others at the party later were deliciously adorable and some Rockstar Corpses sang some songs, and all was well. And I got to talk to Guatemala, and Guatemala might have been on drugs. I love them all.

And my ice-pack later wet the couch. I blamed Ryan.

It really wasn't that dramatic.


But ouch.

intergalactic

What a loving stratosphere of friends I have.



That's right.

summer thus far

The Great Outdoors, the Great Indoors, medium cheddar and whole grain crackers, flats of slightly too-ripe strawberries, Late-night silliness, krumpfest biznass, outdoor films under the abundant stars of Sundance with cuddly friends sprawled out on blankets and grass, watching fireworks from rooftops, stargazing on little blankies whilst interpreting dreams.
Guilty musical pleasures, superfluous discussions and then those at the other side of the spectrum, phone loss and ... cocktails, ubergigglyness, plane tickets to far-off lands, the prospect of simply living on the beach, blues voices, nostalgia and accompanying scents, slow and steady music, childlike wonder at pyrotechnic displays of patriotism, llamas and Brahma bulls.
Super late-night everything, including grilled cheese sandwich extraordinaires, les autres soirées, over-the-top celebrations of cake and dancing and révolution! stealing away to not-so-far-off-lands for little bouts of adventure, social family, un peu, dance dance dance, too much time in gallery silence and awkward glances, plaid shorts and frilly skirts, noel en juillet, heart-to-hearts, strawberry frappuccinos, lengthy stays at bookshops and public parks, depth, mildly illegal trespassing, swimmingswimmingswimming, reprimanded booty-dancing, dollar movie mind-drifts, comfortable awkwardness, silent attacks and loud reactions, camaraderie.

umm...

an original? .....sold? ...maybe?!?

maternal instinct

Definite all-time low. &hearts

baby's first sale!

Woo-hoo!

Consider this PSA important if you like to communicate:

Many of you well know that I have recently lost my phone. Well, lost in the sense that I no longer have it with me, but not lost in that I know exactly where it is.

For reasons I cannot disclose, my cellular phone is now at the bottom of a mine shaft.

That's right. A mine shaft.

Actually, I will disclose that I was on a secret mission to thwart some evil master mind's plans, but that's as much as a can tell. Really. On with our story: Since I no longer have this communication device, I will, therefore, no longer be able to call any of you, text any of you, or set up secret dance parties and flash mobs with you. Any of you. UNLESS! (And yes, there is an unless:) ... you do the following things: 1) Send your telephone digits in an email or message to me, seeing as we don't want the creeps from eastern Europe who frequent my page (yes, there are many) to get a hold of your phone number and pester you as they so often do, or! 2) Schedule an appointment (via the internet, of course) to meet at a well-lit destination with plenty of witnesses around to exchange telephone numbers once I get a new phone, or! 3) Purchase a new phone for me, and have your contact info already programmed into it. 4) Come up with any other means by which you can communicate yours digits to me. Whether it be by mail, telegram, Morse Code, postcard, connect the dots, fax, tattoo, dinner and a movie, interpretive dance, or piece of artwork, I have no preference as to which you choose, although I'm fairly terrible at understanding certain the meanings of interpretive dances so I might write a "4" when in actuality you mean a "9".

Anyway.

Good luck in your endeavors, and have a lovely time enjoying your cellular phones. Be mindful of your surroundings, especially near mine shafts, cliffs, wells, tall buildings, large bodies of water, small bodies of water, electrical outlets, caverns, taverns, dinosaurs, emergency fire escapes, stampedes, and other dangerous places.

Bless you,

Amy

P.S. For those of you who feel the need to profess your undying love for me through voice mail and/or text messages (as you so often do) please refrain from doing so until I am able to receive your message. I'll be ever so embarrassed if we run into each other and you've recently asked me for my hand in marriage through either of these venues and I'm completely unaware.

P.P.S. For future reference, try to avoid asking me to marry you via text message. That's just all too pedestrian these days.

P.P.P.S. The Almighty Wikipedia has informed me that multiple postscripts are in poor taste, and that "they are considered very poor writing style." And for this, I apologize.

rehabilitation, pt. 3

Gregory wasn't the last of his kind that I picked up. There were two more wounded comrades taken down by the inclement weather. I dried them off and put them in the tree on my porch, ready to brave the elements. They were tough little guys.

rehabilitation, pt. 2

There was another dragonfly down on my way to the Museum of Art four hours later. It got special treatment via a tour of an exhibit, aid in drying, and multiple caretakers. His name was Gregory.

rehabilitation

This morning, on my way to work, I found a dragonfly sitting at the edge of the lawn of Maeser Hill. The entomologist in me knew that this was not typical behavior for one of these creatures, especially after a big rainstorm, and the bleeding heart in me picked it up and started helping it dry off. By the end of the walk to my building, we had successfully gotten the majority of the water droplets off, straightened out the folds in its wings, and it began beating these wings to fan off the remaining moisture.

mini-brain

I just ate a piece of popcorn that looked like a brain. It was pink, too.

heard in the halls pt. 1

"Yeah, that birth canal is NOT the cleanest place." - B. S.
"It's not that I go partying and stuff..." - D. F.
"If you bleed, I will not be happy. If there's an emergency in here, I'll be very mad at you." - H. A. H.

like

I have a lovely life. I'm surrounded by lovely, loving people, who are 100% awesome
and they make me laugh all the time. I like that. Other things I like? My dreams. I have mutant, crazy dreams. They vary in color, contrast, speed, temperature, MPAA ratings, point of view, simplicity, saturation, species, soundtrack, volume, and cast. MyFriend Heather thinks I dream in acid trips. I also like the weather. It's just about as consistant as my dreams and this constant change keeps me on my toes. So does ink. I'm fascinated by what one can do with a bit of ink. Did you know that in some cultures they put ink under their skin in intricate designs? I'm intrigued by tattoos and satiate my amazement by watching Miami Ink every now and then. Amazing. I also like making wallpaper. That's all.

break

I'm either on the verge of a breakthrough or a breakdown.


Maybe even a breakdance.

hidden

I swear there's a pterodactyl secretly living in my elevator shaft. Honestly. I hear it very rarely, but it chirps every now and then.

boss

I love my boss. Not many people can say this, but I really do. Evie does little things for me that are completely unnecessary for an employer to do. Sometimes she surprises me with breakfast, lunch, and other little goodies. Today, she brought me my favorite thing from Starbucks: A strawberry & creme frappuccino, chilled to perfection. She's a doll.

relief

thanks heavens.

antisleep, pt. 3

Riddle me this: How is it that I can get so little done when I'm having 23-hour days? Time and I are having a bit of a duel. The opposing team is kicking my trash. Congratulations, Universe. You win.

ripening booze

Precisely two months until I'm a Legal Person.

love

What a statement. These are real-life activists.

antisleep, pt. 2

- "You look tired."

Well I'm not. Thanks.

tiny

baby baby. isn't this amazing?

Memo:

Think happy thoughts.

It's mostly easy to be happy. If something's bogging you down, breeze through it, friends. "If you don't like your fate, change it." If you're worried about something, stop by, call me up, and we'll fix that.

antisleep

Although I am generally of the opinion that one should get at least a couple hours (or minutes) of sleep during the night, once in awhile it kind of feels good to get absolutely zero hours of sleep. Well. Maybe not good, per se, but... well, it's kind of nice to know that the only other creatures awake at that time are either on the opposite side of the planet, or they're part of the city's underground world. I was part of that underground society, I guess. I worked on pieces of art from dusk until dawn. ( ) I heard all sorts of charming sounds from the Night Orchestra: rain slipping from the clouds, little squeaks and creaks from the walls, a stray automobile whizzing by, alarm clocks going off at unholy hours from who-knows-where in the valley. I should have set up a camera for a time lapse photography session. Maybe next time, because happily, there will be a next time.

really?

"I'm training him to be a bubble hunter." -H. A. H.

hips don't lie

Doth mine ears deceive me? This morning I heard the simple strains of Shakira Isabel Mebarak Ripoll's voice wafting from my little roommate's chamber. Shakira. Just a wee bit different from the standard Simon & Garfunkel/David Gray/Damien Rice tunes that usually waft from this certain room.

stalker

I have a friend. (Yes, strange.) This friend has a stalker. Oh, how dramatic and glamorous, yes? No, not really. It is just rather boggling. I find it odd when someone stumbles upon another's information, and then seeks them out in various venues without so much as a proper conversation or introduction. I find it even more odd when this person hunts down the other and shows up at their place of work without so much as a "would you like to meet sometime?" In my mind, this isn't exactly how you forge a friendship. Then again, this is exactly how you would forge, as in imitate, a relationship: appear somewhere (uninvited) and act as though you two know each other.