When you do something nice for me, or give me a good hug, or especially when you say something nice, I feel so, so good.

The more loved I feel, the more I am cushioned against whatever else is happening.

It’s like I’ve got this great and silly armor on, and I can do anything!

But hate is like rocks.

And when you are mean to me–especially with your words–I feel so, so bad.

And the more mean things you throw my way,

the less effective are the love-pillows.

So please be nice to me.  I’m doing the best I can.

As I was finishing the posters, I thought it would be a great idea to make an exhibit out of them, so these photos are of my school’s lobby/exhibit space right after I put everything up last night.

Thanks for browsing!

(bonus points if you got this one ^)

Elsewhere, “yank” is just another word for “American.”  But in The South, “yank” is usually buried within a pile of profanities.  And in The North, e’erbody in The South is a redneck.  I’d say it’s a pretty amicable divide.

But in this culture of North and South, I’m a bit of a nobody.  A nomad.  A person without classification.  While my unique background allows me to conveniently vacillate between regional associations, the ability to do so often leaves me without conviction.

Until this morning, when it all became pointedly clear.

Virginia is one of those weird in-between states.  It’s kind of “in the middle”, so people from north of here think it’s part of The South, and people from south of here associate it with The North.

When I opened my front door this morning to the snowy wilderness just outside, I had an epiphany:

VIRGINIA IS THE FREAKING COLD-ASS NORTH.

(Sorry for the profanity.  My chattering teeth aren’t so good on restraint at the moment.)

It was early, so I’d been planning to drive to school.  But I couldn’t find my car.

So I walked.

V e r y  s l o w l y .

There’s a very specific technique for walking in the snow.  And if you ever find out what that technique is, please tell me.  Because I pretty much woke the neighborhood with my restrained squeal of terror and delight when my boots hit a surprise slick of ice and I wobble-slid for a good four feet.  Who needs caffeine when you’ve got a healthy dose of panic to wake you up in the morning?

How’s your Monday treating you?

Have a wonderful day!

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Hope today is whatever you want it to be!

Valentine’s Day is coming up.  Are you ready for it?  I love Valentine’s Day.  And I love this list architect Eero Saarinen (he did the St. Louis arch and the Kennedy Airport TWA terminal…kind of a big deal) made for his wife Aline Bernstein in the 1950s.

I mean, come on.  Who doesn’t want to have a list of their good qualities written up and preserved for all time?  I’m sure Aline isn’t the only person who’d melt over such a sweet gesture…

(Found here)

So it makes since that, having a wonderfully sweet and intelligent first child (and she still is that way…love you, sis!), our parents would use the same tactics on their second.

My whirlwind of hysteria was enough to pick up a heifer and take it for a ride, a la “Twister.”  So you can imagine how it fared against the good intentions of my parents.

Which is why I found myself with increasing frequency in the backseat of our minivan for inexplicably long periods of time.

I knew that tone.

I’ve come so far.

“They found grace in the desert, these people who survived the killing.  Israel, out looking for a place to rest, met God out looking for them!  God told them, ‘I’ve never quit loving you and never will.  Expect love, love, and more love!  And so now I’ll start over with you and build you up again…I’ll refresh tired bodies; I’ll restore tired souls.’ “

Jeremiah 31: 2-4, 25

My studio is starting a number of projects in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, this semester.  Our first visit was gloomy and grey, but what’s to come is shiny and bright!  We’re pretty excited.

I also love this photo I got of my friend Sofia.  It’s kind of a habit of architects to climb parking structures to get a good view, but the walls were so high at the top of this one that we had to get creative.  I shimmied part-way up a lamppost, but Sofia was the only one brave enough to dangle her feet over the city height.

Thanks for hosting us, Messieurs Winston and Salem!  We’ll be back before you know it.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t get a good chuckle out of the occasional chemistry joke.

My sweet friend Elizabeth mercilessly encourages this piece of my sense of humor, which is why she pasted all of these into an email she sent me this morning.

I Lutetium Vanadium Hydrogen Erbium.

(I LuV HEr.)