---
“Go ahead, compare me to your life’s work.
Just once I’d like to know where I stand.”
I glared at Timothy as he lowered his paintbrush and wiped his hands carefully on the rag he kept tucked into his belt. For several months now, I had put up with the steadily-growing group of goddesses his studio featured more and more. All of them seemed to stare at me now, wondering how I dared to invite such a comparison.
When I had first met him, Timothy Smithson had been busy painting landscapes. Flowers, fields, sunshine… all that lovely nature stuff. I thought it was sweet, but a bit boring. Now, I’d give anything to see a bit of grass instead of the gorgeous women that seemed to challenge me from all sides.
He always talked about the changes he wanted to make in each picture, how each should be improved. Over time, they did seem to be evolving, almost turning into woman gorgeous superwoman. I never knew what he was trying for, but over time, I began to understand that it must be his idea of the perfect woman.
Tim blinked in that lazy way that I so adored, only this time it only made me more angry.
“Answer me, damnit!” I cried.
“Julie, the women that I paint aren’t your competition,” he chewed the words around carefully before speaking.
But I didn’t care what he had to say. I was a volcano that had sat dormant for years on end, and nothing was going to stop a full-out eruption now.
“You spend 8-hours a day in this attic, working with these muses of yours… Refining the shape of their bodies, their lips, their eyelashes. How do you expect me to feel?” He knew it was a rhetorical question. “I feel like I don’t even know you lately,” I said with a frown.
“You don’t understand--” he started, but I cut him off.
“And what was with last night?”
It was our third anniversary. We had reservations at Le Petite Diamant, a nice and fancy restaurant downtown. I had spent hours getting ready; he barely made it out the door on time. Over wine and appetizers, we began reminiscing, a sweet conversation for an anniversary.
But then he had become distant, his eyes slightly unfocused, until he scrambled for the scrap of paper and charcoal pencil that he always kept with him. He sketched quietly for a moment, while I took the time to peer carefully over my shoulder.
At the table directly behind us, a beautiful woman sat. You know, the kind that has probably been on a magazine cover at some point in her life? Perfect model features; the perfectly pouting lips, the perfectly flirty eyes; the perfectly fitting dress.
As I looked back at Tim, I carefully glimpsed his sketch, of a face that was already taking shape, a face that looked familiar. In fact, it looked an awful lot like the likely-model behind me. I had made it through the rest of dinner that night, but barely.
“Last night,” he echoed, lamely.
“You couldn’t stop admiring the other women around us long enough to look at me!”
He frowned, but it wasn’t a look of guilt, but rather one of confusion.
“Jules…” he began. He shook his head slightly.
“And then you just had to rush home to paint the bimbo sitting behind us. Never mind that I’m left downstairs on a friday night, on our the night of our anniversary, all alone!”
"I wasn't painting any women from the restaurant," he shook his head again, but didn’t say any more. I let the silence grow for a moment.
“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he finally said.
“Like what?” I snapped.
Without saying anything, he turned his easel around.
It was like looking into a mirror. Each of my features had been replicated perfectly. My hazel eyes seemed to glint in the unseen light source. My too-thin lips turned upward in a slight smile. My shoulders were set in a determined stance.
“Wha?” was all I could manage, unable to pull my eyes away from the portrait of myself.
There was a fumbling noise from behind me, and as I turned to see what it was, an astonishing sight met my eyes.
Tim was standing with his palm outstretched, gently cupping a ring. A ring! A diamond ring! My brain raced to catch up with the events happening around me.
“Jules, it’s all been about you. I knew I could never call myself an artist unless I could paint - truly paint - the person in this world who mattered most to me.”
I swayed a little bit, reaching out to steady myself on the table next to me.
“Julie Henderson," he said in a strong voice, "Will you marry me?”
---
Haha, I guess I must have weddings on the mind. But anyway, it was just for fun. It was interesting seeing how the little prompt grabbed me and started sparking thoughts, the way my mind kept adding layers until I had a miniature story. I think I'm going to try using more of these prompts whenever I have some free time and feel like writing. It's a nice exercise for the creative mind I want to develop.
Well, that's about it from me. On a final note, I want to share with you a website I spent some time last week creating. It's basically a collection of my favorite photos - pictures of various parts of my life, my travels, my family, etc. It can be found
here. Please enjoy.
Hope your day is cheerier than mine. Cheers.
Turning around 180 degrees from here, you will see our weird little hallway which, as it turns, houses our closets. (Mine is the one on the right). 
On the wall directly behind these closets, my roommate and I found an excellent poster of one of our favorite men, Johnny Depp.
The poster is a huge - 3 foot by 5 foot, and takes up the entire last wall of our hallway. 
The left side of the room is my side, so here is my bulletin board (and posters) and bed. 
Every dorm room needs storage...
And I even have a nifty little windowsill. In this shot, you can also see the lights that hang outside my window and shine straight at my face at night. Annoying. 
Here's my desk, including...
My meager collection of books and DVDs (I left most things at home), as well as....
My gadgets: computer, iPod, and iPhone. Honestly not sure how I'd live without any of these things at this point. (Oh, and woot for Snow Leopard, which my Macbook is now running).
Next, there's our food area (the fridge is mostly full of smoothies right now) - and, yes, that's another picture of Johnny Depp. We can't get enough. 
Our TV has its own little spot. We figured out a nifty way to hook up our laptops to the larger screen and better speakers, so we can stream stuff from Hulu and watch DVDs with ease. 
Finally, I was lucky enough to get a suite room with a private bath, so as you can see in the above picture (on the right), here is the door into the bathroom... (The crazy red and black towels are mine - kind of love them).
Oh, and that sliver of wood on the left side of this picture shows the door to the OTHER room, which currently has only one person, but will probably have another as of tomorrow.
