Louie

Apartment life can be a funny thing. You live closer to your neighbors than probably anyone else in the United States, yet you often know little or nothing of them. The only thing you have in common (so far as you know) is your shared place of residence.

I live in a complex called The Gate. There is no gate, but the opted to name the apartments "the gate" regardless. We here at the Gate, more specifically those of us living to the west of the main swimming pool, we've got something in common: Louie. Louie is a neighborhood cat of sorts. Louie is a girl. Louie's owner is a girl. Louie's owner likes other girls, and that's my best bet as to why the girl cat has a boy name.

At any rate, Louie is greatly loved by every west-of-the-main-pool-Gate-resident. When we have small talk on our way to the parking lot, we get to talk about Louie when we're done talking about the weather. Louie greets everyone when they come home from work. Louie brings people together. I'm pretty positive that if Louie ever got killed by a car (like Foxxy the Pom), the neighborhood would probably get together and have a memorial of sorts.

So here's to Louie, the female feline that oft graces us with her presence and brings unity among the people. Keep up the good work, girl.

fireplace: before and after

I'd like to thank Tony Green for the "f", the vase, and the giant white Lego leaves. I'd also like to open up the comment section as a safe place to discuss your thoughts on our fireplace.

doggie days

Here is a picture of me and Hershey. Hershey is a yorkie that belongs to the Olivers, the family that birthed, raised, and currently claims me. My parents usually keep him, but due to their recent travels he has been staying with us at the apartment. Isn't he cute?

Well the answer is, it depends. He's cute when you come home and he runs up to you and jumps as high as he can (6 inches above my knee) to greet you. He's cute when he jumps up in your lap and falls asleep. He's actually cute right now as I'm typing this, laying down on the pillow beside my bed.

However, he is not always cute. It's not cute when you come home to find him in his cage with his own waste. He's also not cute when he decides, in the middle of the night, that he suddenly cannot jump on to my bed -- something he does with no problem in the day time -- and whines heavily until he receives the assistance he believes he deserves.

There is one thing that Hershey is not: smart. Every time I tell him it is time to go outside, he freaks out like he's never been anywhere other than our apartment's entry way in his life. You'd think he would remember that I have to put the leash on him before we go out, and that he'd at least stay still while I try to accomplish that feat... not the case. He just jumps around like an idiot until I finally grab and subdue him until I can get that little leash buckle to click. Another very intelligent thing he does happens every time we come back in from outside. He still hasn't wrapped his peanut brain around the fact that we live upstairs. He always goes right on past the steps. I don't understand it.

Anyway, that's Hershey. He's cute, and not cute, and not smart, but I love him anyway. My roommates hate him and make fun of him, but I love him. I think dogs are funny. I do not, however think this post is funny, and at this point I'm wondering why I thought it would be a good idea for a post at all. Oh well. It's like the subtitle of my blog says, "online diary for the masses - where D.O. wastes your time for you"

my worldview

Whoever designed my apartment complex did a pretty good job of making residents feel safe regarding others trying to peek through their windows. My initial thought towards having all of our windows blocked by trees was undoubtedly negative. Not that we would have been able to see far had the trees not been there, but the trees block the sun, which reduces the amount of natural light that is able to enter our rooms.

Over the years I've been very wrong about a whole lot of stuff, especially when it comes to first impressions of people, things, or situations. Well this is no exception.

I've been blessed with sightings like the one pictured above over and over the past few weeks. I never would have counted myself as a bird watcher, but I'm starting to recognize its appeal. When I can lay on my wonderful bed and simply look right out my window at a cardinal who doesn't know I'm spying on him (or her... I don't know birds yet), that's pretty pure.

This reminds me of when I was in elementary school and junior high. My Aunt Sherry would pick me up from school and take me to her house until my mom got off work. Each year, during our week-long autumn, I remember Sherry always talking about how beautiful the changing leaves were. I'm pretty sure I said they were too, but never really paid much attention to them. Now I could sit and stare at a fall-struck tree for thirty minutes and thoroughly enjoy it.

Events and changes like these are the subtle changes that make me realize the scary fact that I'm growing up.

I'm thankful that my God helps change my entirely screwed up mind and conforms it to look (and think!) like His.

Change is inevitable. That was on the wall in my 7th grade hallway. Whoever put those construction paper letters on the wall knew what they were talking about.

the wall

Here's a pretty terrible picture of what I've spent all day (and about $100) doing. I promise, it looks a lot cooler on my wall than it does in this picture - or at least I think it does. The two doors you see are my room door and my closet door respectively, to give you an idea of where we're talking about.

How'd I do this crafty deed? Well I blew up 25 pictures I've taken over the years to 8x10 and ordered pre-cut 8x10 adhesive drymount from the kind yankees at foamboardsorce.com. I dry mounted them myself, which made me very nervous at first, but it turned out to not be bad. Then I bought straight pins and put 'em up on the wall. I know you think they aren't level... well they probably aren't, but at this point in time, I'm sick of messing with it. I just thought I'd share what happens when every ounce of my creativity ends up on a wall.

the room

Here's your first (and probably last) look at my new bedroom in the new apartment. It looks like that. There are, however, a few exceptions; slight differences between what you see in the picture and reality.

For instance, chair isn't empty, I'm currently sitting in it. And the three pictures on the top shelf of my new bookshelf (which I love) are now leaning on a Nalgene each, as sort of a picture frame, if you will. Perhaps the biggest exception is this: there is presently a stinkin' cable wire running from the wall opposite my desk (wall not pictured) to my computer. While I am grateful that it provides me with an internet connection, I simply cannot understand why the man - who took a week to get his butt over here to install it - thought it was a good place for that cable when I have the same wall jack directly behind my computer.

Why didn't I tell him otherwise? Well I was slightly busy being at the renowned Dr Boothe's LASIK center for nearly five hours. I don't really want to be many places for five hours, and in case I was ever unsure about that LASIK center's ability to hold my attention for such a length of time, I confirmed it today. It failed. Miserably. But that's just the price you have to pay to get your eyes fixed. That and a few thousand dollars.

I see that this post has taken an unexpected turn, and is not about LASIK (no pun intended). If you don't feel like commenting, I understand. This was yet another poor post. At least I have internet now. Maybe they'll start improving.

right there, huh?

There are so many things to like about our new apartment: central air, a dishwasher, huge closets, and the list just goes on. But there are also some things that just don't make sense no matter how hard three aggie minds try.

Why does Mikey's room not get cold like the rest of the apartment?

Why does mine and Jon's sink water pressure resemble that of one of those water fountains that you can't drink from because it only pushes water out one centimeter high?

And above all, why in the world is our fireplace so terribly off centered?

Sure, it makes for a nice, contemporary photograph for a perpetually trendy blog, but does it even come close to making sense? Clearly it does not. I'm open to suggestions.

This entry was posted from a laptop in Arlington, TX; courtesy of Kyle and Melinda Oliver.