Saturday Morning
Posted at 03:07 PM

It was the earliest she'd been up on a Saturday in a very long time.  But he was awake and eager to get out of bed.  She yawned, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and got up.

She'd been out late last night. Her feet were sore from all that salsa dancing.  She went to pick him up after dancing, and they went to sleep soon after.  But she wasn't used to sleeping with him.  His breathing tickled her ear and she shifted about during the night.

He was ravenous.  He paced the room, trying to take his mind off of food.  No good.  Little whiffs floated around, though they seemed invisible to her.  Never having made breakfast, she looked through all the kitchen cupboards for any scrap of "breakfast food".  She decided to make him eggs and toast while settling for a bowl of really old instant oatmeal for herself.

The first piece of toast came out a little burned, but he was so hungry he ate it in three bites anyway.  He then downed the scrambled eggs and the other two slices of toast without hesitation.  He looked up at her questioningly.  He was thirsty.

She set a dish of water out for him and went to clean up the mess she made in the kitchen.  She was never going through so much trouble to make a puppy breakfast again!

Relapse.
Posted at 09:57 PM

I had just finished watching the Devil Wears Prada on dvd with my roommate. Feeling fabulous and fantastic with my hair all done up in Marilyn Monroe curls that day, I brought the leftover half bottle of red shiraz with me in my purse to studio, and grabbed a wine glass on my way out.

As I had predicted, no one was in studio that night. Pity. My hair was Hollywood glamorous and no one would see it.

I lit some scented candles (even though they were illegal for obvious reasons in architecture studio), opened up some Norah Jones on my laptop, and poured the first of two glasses of wine from my half bottle.

Sketching some conceptual drawings got boring after a few minutes and I felt mischievous, so I pulled up AIM and messaged him.

"I'm all alone in studio with a bottle of wine. You need to come help me so I don't drink the whole bottle myself :)" I told him, teasingly.

"Oh but should I, should I?" he replied.

"I am a woman of 'cans' and 'wills', not 'shoulds' and 'woulds'".

"C u soon".

Soon, I was three quarters finished with the second and last glass of wine. But I had to save a tiny bit, to make it look like I had drank the whole bottle.

My phone rang. He had arrived! With a smile on my face and a bounce in my step, I went downstairs to fetch him.

He brought another bottle of red.

A slightly less sweet wine, cabernet sauvignon.

He finished the rest of my shiraz, and poured himself a new glass as I flipped through architecture books for inspiration. I showed him my design and he offered some ideas. We poured through books together, as the conversation shifted to be less and less about architecture. I felt I really knew him in these conversations. They were trivial topics about nothings, but I connected and really understood him, a rare occasion any other day of the week. And he was right. He was conversative. When he felt like it.

Glass after glass was drunk. We talked and flirted and doodled on sheets of trace paper. And flirted some more. I tossed my head of curls and batted my mascara coated lashes as I laughed. And then I was in his arms, our lips were locked together, tongues dancing. We were wild and reckless. We were still in studio. Pausing to gasp for air, I looked around to make sure no one had walked in while we were preoccupied. No one had.

We were back at my place, intending to watch the movie my mother had recommended about thieves, but as soon as the lights went out, we were passionately making out on my bed again. It was three in the morning. The last thing I remember was the movie still playing on repeat in the background, and my head, resting atop a manly chest, being lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heart beat.

When I woke up, the sun was shining brightly, casting lines of light and shadow on the wall across the bed. An arm was draped around my waist and I was happy. I had missed him. I missed the way he smelled, the way he looked at me, the way he felt. I didn't want to move when my alarm clock went off. Just stay still. Stay quiet. Stay in his arms.

But it was morning. On a Tuesday. And work needed to get done. And so I dragged my groggy self out of bed and went to class. He was gone by the time I got back.

300 the Movie.
Posted at 11:54 AM

I never thought I'd be one to enjoy blood-and-guts types of films, but I loved this movie!  It was very artistically filmed.  Despite the goriness.  It wouldn't have been awesome without it.

I also never thought 6 packs were hot on guys*... until I saw this film.  And then I suddenly found myself wanting super buff 40-year old men.

So I'm thinking the next guy I date will definitely be super ripped.  With muscles so big that they grow out of places I didn't even know muscles could grow. Lol.

*in the past, I never liked guys with 6 packs because my 8th grade biology teacher told us that segmentation in creatures such as roaches or lobsters can be seen in the ab muscles of humans.. aka the 6 pack.

A deep, sleepy Sigh.
Posted at 04:00 PM

I am

weary.

Emotionally torn a

part.

Stressed and s t r a i n e d.

Waiting for the

Weekend

to come. 

Plans, Plans, Plans!
Posted at 11:08 AM

So I'm going to Miami and Panama City for Spring break!!

I'm going to study abroad in Shang Hai for 6 weeks in the summer and intern for an architecture firm for the rest of the summer!!

I will be seeing my favoritest gramda in the whole wide world, and she'll be seeing her favoritest grandchild ever!!

I am going to minor in Chinese!