I went to the Getty yesterday. It was sunny and warm, we packed a fabulous picnic lunch (chicken on french rolls with sprouts, avocado, tomato, cucumber, lettuce, onion, cheese, mayonnaise, and mustard), stopped for donuts, and then I slept the rest of the way there, which resulted in the two-hour ride feeling like half an hour. I'm not crazy about modern architecture in general, but the museum is big and airy and blindingly white in the sunlight and there are fountains and pools everywhere that are a cool blue against all the white. The six of us (including jack and the buddhist) wandered around and soaked up art and culture inside the museum, and then, shortly before we had to drive back to campus (yes, it's true: Don Rags is not a break and we still have seminar) we went outside and lay on the grass around the garden. I took my sandals off and the sun was warm on the soles of my feet. I fell asleep and woke up a little while later to my feet being tickled... Back in the car (back asleep), back to campus, seminar on the first half of the Paradiso (which didn't suck as much as I thought it was going to). Then I hung out and played music until curfew and collapsed shortly afterward, because I had gotten three hours of sleep the night before (that'll teach me to watch sappy chick-flicks such as While You Were Sleeping and then stay up talking for several hours afterward). Today: Well, it's not sunny anymore (Mother Nature has got to stop toying with my emotions), but I did go out to breakfast with the girls and had piping hot chamomile tea with a lot of sugar and cranked up Jagged Little Pill on the way back to campus for my Don Rags. Which are now, happily, over. They didn't suck (in fact, much to my delight, it was reported that I have "a real sense for literature"--damn straight... & no sense at all for math. c'est la vie), but I need to talk more/more consistently. I know, I know. That's going to be so hard for me to do. Right?