January 3, 2010 – Song 60

A very wise friend of my mine recently said that the reason she likes New Years Eve is that “it feels momentous if you let it.” I don’t doubt I will hear other sentences this year that I will never be able to shake but that one is the first. Congrats girl. Ingrained in the Membrane. Did I just reference Cypress Hill during a touching moment?

You betcha Ladydude. Song 60.

I had the opportunity to relive the scene of another one of my other favorite sentences the other night when I ran into an old professor of mine at the bar. It was weird and also not. I guess that’s the best I can explain it! Oh well. Anyhow, the final project for this class was to recreate the architectural drafts of the Farnsworth House. In ink mind you, and by hand.*

The Farnsworth House

I will never forget being in class when this was explained and people asking questions about what was expected. Things like “Do we have to erase our pencil lines?” or “Do we need to bind the edges?” Your regular kind of stuff. And then this girl next to me Amy, a sort of frat type girl that I had somehow befriended over the course of the year, because although we couldn’t be more different she was a regular laugh riot, raises her hand and says in total seriousness one of the funniest things I have ever heard.

“Is close enough good enough?”

Oh my God. That kills me even now. It’s like that sentence is about everything all at once and yet absolutely nothing at all.

A tip of the hat to you my long lost Lincoln Park Ladydude.

*While doing this project I was reduced to tears multiple times. When you mess up a draft in ink you have no other choice but to start the page again. And at some point, most likely the day before it was due, I stayed up almost all night finishing it. This was back in the day when I lived with the ahhhmazing Erin Dance who was already in bed, with her sweet dog Lolly. My sweet dog Levee was curled up on my bed dead asleep when I finally finished. And I remember being so excited to be done that I dove in to celebrate.

So, I guess there is a reason they say let sleeping dogs lie. Because I startled the living shit out of my dog who responded by jumping up and barking, managing in the same second to bite me square in the lower lip. Now, this wasn’t the first time I had been bit in the face by a dog. But I was exhausted and my eyes were practically crossed from having concentrated on something for so long. And I could feel the blood pouring down my neck. And it really hurt.

I still remember knocking on Erin’s door and her waking up to see me standing there covered in blood. In true Dance fashion, fucking fazed by nothing, she took me to the bathroom and assured me that my lip wasn’t torn off. Poor little Levee sat terrified at my feet the entire time. That night Erin cleaned me up and sent me to bed. And it turned out all I really had was two perfect puncture wounds in my lower lip, which had basically healed by the next day. What took a while to go away however was the swelling. I spent the next week in finals at school looking like I had been on the losing end of a bar fight and on more than one occasion was asked by a fellow student, my school was like 95% female, “Was everything okay at home?”

I don’t remember now what I said then by way of explanation, but God I hope it was “Close enough.”

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