Munch and No Mike

Last night I told my brother (Mike) it was my spring break and we tried to plan an impromptu visit for him. Unfortunately, after asking my roommate if my brother could stay in the dorm (he doesn't want to spend a shiz ton of money on a hotel in the loop) she said she felt a little weird having a dude sleeping in her room. So visit: denied. But she had a friend come stay over without telling me first, so I'm a little tiffed off about that. I'm up in my loft now and they're down below talking. Actually we've just been introduced. It's a little less awkward now... I think.

(Think about this: Situations are only awkward if you're thinking about them too much, I've noticed. This is why I come off as a weirdo sometimes, but I end up feeling a lot better.)

I'm also feeling pretty paranoid all of a sudden.

Anyway, right after that profound statement, I'd like to mention that I am wearing my new bowler hat today. Super excited. I wore it to the Munch show at the Art Institute. It was AMAZING. Especially when you go alone, which is what I did. I enjoy art shows more when I'm alone, but I think that goes for most people. However, I did see a lot of huggy-kissy couples there, which is strange sight when they're standing in front of The Dance of Life (see below) which depicts a depressed, lovesick girl mourning over her lost/no-longer lover. It's a little less romantic than they (or you) might think.

The Dance of Life, Edvard Munch


I suck.