It was one hell of a weekend. As you well know, I rocked the pledge drive and then kept trucking, because September leaves no rest for the (happily) weary. I cracked open my laptop, the one that isn’t out to get me that is, and got down to business looking over Alex’s masters thesis on graphic design. To be clear: I have no artistic ability. Unlike Mr. Moya, I do not have an eye for color (which anyone who has seen me put together an outfit painfully knows) but I am pretty good at the spot edit. And knowing Alex’s work, I figured it would be a relatively innocent project, right? Right?
Mmmm… for the most part.
Alex’s design and writing were fierce, and raw, and in some cases brutally honest. There was scathing social commentary, some really excellent points on the ways in which design reinforce certain social norms, and then (to my surprise) some naked people. Yep. Nekkidness. To prove a point, which he did really, really well. While I was definitely not prepared for that, after the initial “whoa, that was, um unexpected,” I fixed some spelling errors, moved some parenthetical references around, and broke apart some sentences to help with the flow. Yes, only I could eviscerate an incredible piece of work by focusing on the sentence structure and not the exposed bodies proving how callous and sexualized a culture we sometimes are.
If only my writing could be as impactful. Seriously.
Then Sunday was for errands, shopping, and trying to find Davey’s pillow in the packed-to-the-gills storage unit right by the entrance to the interstate. I had the code, I had the key, I had the resolve. And after twenty minutes, I had a boatload of frustration in not being able to navigate the labyrinth of boxes, suitcases, and furniture stacked precariously to the ceiling. After some electronic instructions from the other side of the ocean, the only thing I succeeded in was rearranging a lot of couch pillows and keeping the stack from completely collapsing with my shoulder.
Storage unit, 1. Matt, 0.
So, sadly, Davey’s working on finding a replacement. In the meantime, I’ve got a box of Trapper Keeper folders and some ranch dressing seasoning that will be crossing the Atlantic in the near future. Between that and grant writing/revision, it’s been the perfect busy ending to the most ridiculous September on record. So tonight, I am going to finish making a casserole, catch up on personal email (since I am woefully behind) and watch crap TV. Because I’ve earned it.
Bring on the spudness, beetches.
Until next time, stay classy (and peace out September) Salt Lake. And <SPOILER ALERT> I will be writing about my being terrified that Ebola is now in the US. Just FYI.
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