I miss Mexico and Christmas. I miss my little sister. I miss strange figurines on roofs and knowing that this isn't the real Mexico, just the cruise ship version. But I am good at suspension of disbelief, and this is the most real Mexico that ever was.
I want to apply to art grad school. Because then every day will be Mexican Christmas. Every day will be pots and pagodas and casserole dishes painted hot hot pink and smooth red clay running under my fingers. The funniest thing about the ceramics art facility is they spell out all the names of the materials they use. Al2O3? No. "Alumina." Titanium dioxide. Red copper oxide. Black copper oxide. All spelled out in words. I tell you, it's Mexican Christmas to read the labels. I stand in the glaze room and giggle madly to myself, and it never gets old. I mean. "Chromium carb." Carb what? Carbonate? Carbide? It's unimportant.
I probably won't get in. I don't have a portfolio yet, and this is my senior year. But dammit, they have such nice kilns. They have such nice clays. They have quite the array of glazes. And they have pulled pork tacos. Now how is that not like Christmas in Mexico?
Also, Nathan. Put on some fucking clothes. You're scaring the marmosets again.
Maybe if you go to art school you can get Nate to nude-model for you. He'd probably do it for free.
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