In my Art lab class required by all MAA freshmen, we had the assignment of writing a paper on a gallery, or a piece of artwork we saw at the gallery. Now, they left it quite loose, and I had no idea what to do, and its due tomorrow. So, obviously I left it until Friday to yell at my mom to take me to an art gallery. We couldn't do it on Saturday because of dance and such, so I'd have to visit a gallery, and write about it all on Sunday. The only problem was, I couldn't find much that was open on Sunday. But I did find one at the Lewis and Clark college, SO i was like, its free, realitively near, and its open on Sundays. Bingo.
After having a very hard time finding this gallery, and wandering all over the place, and an arguamant and meeting up with two others looking for a different building, we wandered around until a very nice person helped us. We went inside the gallery filled with T.V screens and pictured and Radio stuff, and I was like, well whats the point of this? This is weird, Wtf? but then, after I found a theme, I was noticing they were mixing politics, history, technology, and media coverage and art to broach certain aspects of the Media. There was one thing I was very interested in. There was these pexiglass target shields, and behind them were tv's showing media archives of the kidnap and murder of Hanns Martin Schleyer in 1977.

After looking around a bit, we got into the car, drove around looking at rich peoples houses, and finally retuned home. But as we were ready to keep going down our busy street, a police officer had it blocked, and was turning people down the neighborhood street. We really didn't want to go all the way around, And so we went up to him, And told him, "Sir, we live just down the street, about six houses down.." (On our street we all have fairly big houses and land, so its not the stereotypical six houses down, we couldn't see a thing.) He said, "Down where street..A and Street B intersect?
"yes"
You can go on through"

We then proceeded down the street. When we scaled the rise, we were met with fifteen police cars all circled around the intersection, and we were like, "Fuck!" and so We turned into our driveway fast, because knowing Kym, who sobs when the mailman knocks on the door would be distraught. But there she was, plain as day, in her room reading. I was Like, Kim, what the Fuck? Didnt you hear it? and she was totally clueless and so I puled her outside where they all were. Apparently from what they told my mom was, "He didnt want to talk to police, but its undercontrol, and thats all you need to know."


So much for a quiet tranquill rainy Sunday after noon, eh?