One Thing Really Quick

I really shouldn't even be contemplating writing in this blog at the moment, for it is but a few hours until I have to wake up to get ready to go to Campus Crusade's annual Atlanta Christmas Conference for all the schools in the southeast. Anyway, I should be sleeping right now, but I was doing laundry for until the wee hours of the morning, and now I've just finished packing and am getting everything in order to leave (money wise..making sure there's enough money in the checking account, that kind of thing). My room however, will remain a disaster area until I get back (and in reality probably till I go back to school, I mean, let's be honest, when you're living out of a suitcase, it's hard to not have clothes all over the floor. Anyway, must go, have some Z's to catch before leaving. I'll let you know how the conference goes.

A Strange Evening

I spent the evening at the home of my middle school youth pastor who has just moved back to Orlando after pastoring [mental note: check correctness of words "pastoring" and "correctness"] in Georgia for several years. Having not seen him and his wife for any length of time in as many years, it was strange being back to six years ago, hanging out and just chatting. Many things have changed. They now have two absolutely adorable children who are destined to be a rabid football fans; they have grown older as have the students they cared for back in the day, though not as visibly; they have passed through many fires, been refined, and become more wise, although I'm sure they would be the first to say that wisdom is not something that is gained over a few years. In other ways, they remain the same. He still has that crazy southern accent, which has been cultivated by the years in Georgia; she still looks the same, despite two pregnancies and the stress that accompanies the resulting children.

Adding to the weirdness of seeing them again was seeing that particular group of people again. I went to high school with many of them, but the years between middle school and now have created chasms between us, save a few people who have remained my close friends. I saw them for four more years along with many new faces from high school. Some people I didn't really know well in middle school; others I considered my best friends. In fact members of that group of people helped mold me into who I am today. Their personalities and resilience against embarrassment bent me to a point that I too seldom get embarrassed, especially when compared to the frightened child might blush at the mention of underwear many years ago. It saddened me how little I spoke to people on whom I once depended for much of my human interaction. I wish that things had not turned out the way they did in high school and consequently in college, but c'est la vie. I am reminded of a Shakespeare quote that goes something like this, [pardon me for butchering it which I know is inevitable] "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more." It's as if their lives simply pranced across the stage of mine, and are now waiting in the wings for something else to happen; either their triumphant return to the stage, or their quiet exit from the theatre of my perception. In high school people change, roads split. Mine went one way, theirs the other.

This week has been a return to the past for me. Last Saturday I went to D.'s house for a small gathering to see the gang again before people left for Christmas vacation with family. At this event I hung out with people I haven't talked to recently due to distance both physically and emotionally. On this occasion we made a brief journey back to the middle school years and certain things that happened on school camping trips, all of which were, in my humble opinion, the result of overactive hormones which were at the time untamed (everyone's are in middle school), and all the drama that springs from the teen angst and love triangles which characterize any group where the guy-to-girl ratio is roughly 3-to-9.

It has been simultaneously fun and sad to wistfully remember the days of yore. I am most certainly glad that those days are over, that I don't have to worry about that brand of angst any longer. But deep down some part of me, probably the part that still wants to play pirate in the loft with Johnny Depp, longs for the days of youth when a glance from a certain boy would shake my world and a night out with the girls meant sleeping on someone's floor in a sleeping bag eating popcorn and watching overly sappy movies till saltwater fish could swim in our puddles of tears.

Artistic 3.0 (with semirelated tangent)

I find that when I'm trying to be artistic, it just doesn't work. I don't know why. It kind of sucks really. I feel like some of my best writing comes when I'm not even thinking about what I'm writing, just letting it flow, being myself. When I am myself strange things begin to happen. My imagination goes crazy, my mind wanders to some place far far away that is somehow reachable if I can only detatch myself from reality a little farther. I saw Finding Neverland a week ago and absolutely adored it; not because of the sterling performances of Johnny Depp and that one kid, but because I identify with the J.M. Barrie character deep down inside. I'm a child trapped in a college student's body (I won't say that I'm an adult, the prospect of being grown up is frightening and more than a little depressing). Perhaps that's why I loved Big Fish so much: I saw myself in those crazy stories. Based in reality, but so much more. Life would be boring without an imagination. I love my imagination.

I propose we have a national "Love Your Imagination" Day. Kids today are denied the opportunity to use their imaginations by being spoon fed everything through a screen or talking gizmo. If the kid can talk, he's doesn't need a talking Elmo anymore (and frankly they're creepy...there's actually a story behind my fear of talking stuffed animals; ask me some time), why provide Elmo with a voice when someone can do it for him. Somebody should sell stuffed animals with a tagline like "Says an infinate number of phrases when you provide the voice!" or "Says anything you want him to!" All of this to say, excercise your imagination, it's like cardio...for the brain!

Relaxing Christmas Vacation?

I got home from school last Friday. It was nice. My totally awesome roommate drove me home. We missed the I-75 exit, so we got to backtrack. I was highly amused. Anyway, that's not really the point of me writing this blog.

Anyway, at the moment, I am exhausted. Alright, I know exhaustion is not really surprising around Christmas time, but the cause for exhaustion is not shopping or decorating, but painting. Painting. I spent most of my day 8 feet off the ground on a ladder and scaffolding. My feet hurt from standing on a one inch wide piece of metal for too long. My knee hurts from going up and down a ladder all day.

I came home for the break and the house was clean, but disheveled. There weren't any decorations up. It didn't really feel like Christmas. Hopefully we'll rectify that situation before the end of the week. I just hope I don't have to stand on a ladder too much...again. I had to paint above my parents shower, so we had the ladder in the shower, and it slipped a little when I was on it and I flipped out. Eight feet in the air is a bad place to practically have a heart attack. Needless to say I made quick work of painting up there and got down as quickly as possible. Anyway, I don't mind doing it. It's kind of fun really, I just wish I didn't have to get up so early, and spend so much time that high up. I been on high ladders before, but I've never really been that comfortable that high up, the squirt was always the one who was good at climbing trees and such.

Well, it's time for me to go to bed, because as I've already mentioned, I get to do the same tomorrow. Good night, everyone, sleep well, be good.

A List of Wonderings

This is my list of wondering. Most of these wonderings have to do with things which I know will be detrimental to my health, sanity or sleep cycles. So here goes the list.

I'm wondering:
-why I keep putting off writing papers until the last minute. I have again avoided writing a lengthy paper to the last minute. Methods of stalling have varied somewhat; instead of playing Minesweeper I watched Cold Mountain with some of my roommates. Awesome movie, bad timing.

-why in the world I chose to write about Shakespeare's ideal leader for this paper. What was I thinking? There are like eight possible leaders in King Lear alone! I'm considering checking in to the local psychiatric ward and getting my head checked out for making stupid academic choices.

-why I'm writing in my blog when I should be writing about Shakespeare. This remains to be solved, let me know if you figure it out.

-why some birds fly (farther) south in the winter and others (the not as pretty ones) stay here all winter. Clementine left, if you hadn't heard. She's now been replaced by a pigeon who we've named Rufus (in honor of my grandfather, who I never met...hope he doesn't mind). Anyway, gray bird vs. brown/yellow/orange bird, who do you think wins the battle for my affections?

-why my left shift key is being retarded. I've always been nice to you shift key, why are you getting back at me for always being kind and loving? Some things just don't make sense.

Ok, enough wondering for now, it's really time for me to get back to work...actually it was time for me to get back to work about three hours ago, but well, I didn't then, so why start now? Oh, right, my paper's due in twelve hours. That's a good reason I guess.

Phantom Anyone?

I have yet to decide quite how I feel about the musical theatre classic Phantom of the Opera being transposed to the silver screen. Part of me says it will attract more people to musical theatre which is always good for potential starving artists such as myself. It's a great way to expose people to a whole other genre of art which seems to have fallen to wayside as ticket prices to Broadway shows (and any other stage performance for that matter) skyrocket. And who knows, maybe it will make people love theatre as much as I love theatre. Another part of me (the pretentious/elitist part) says that it's a travesty to do that to Phantom. So much of seeing Phantom for me was watching the candles rise out of the stage, gazing as the chandelier careened to the floor (although wasn't as impressive as I had imagined) and seeing the Phantom and Christine glide around on a boat live on stage. There's something magical that happens when you know that there is no editing that goes on before the action reaches your eyes, when you know that what you see is what you get, when you know that the person you're watching is also watching you, when you know that if you throw a tomato at them, it'll actually go splat.

You probably think from the what I've been saying that Phantom is my favorite musical. Well, it's not. I love the music (props to Andrew Lloyd Webber) but think the plot was gutted and filleted in the process (shame on you Andrew Lloyd Webber, you need to apologize to Gaston Leroux). I actually can't really say what my favorite musical is. I adore Les Miserables, partially because I was in it in high school, partially because it is a fantastic musical that everyone should see at some point in their life (too bad it's not on Broadway anymore, but just wait a few years, it'll be back, it made too much money to not). Aida was my first encounter with a Broadway production, and I loved it. But that was before I became overly analytical about everything, thanks to my theatrical training in which we are taught to watch everything like it was under a microscope. Anyway, Aida, unlike Phantom, has great plot and music (props to Elton John and Tim Rice, and whoever wrote the original opera on which it is based).

Anyway, I'll probably write something regarding this topic after I've actually seen the movie version. And now, back to my paper, which is still incomplete.

60 to 0 in Half a Second

I don't know why, but I've just been hit with a strong feeling of dysphoria. This afternoon I was super hyper (example, I orchestrated a countdown to dinner time New Years Eve style). Now I'm completely exhausted, a little stressed, and rather antsy.
Possible reasons:
1. Health/expanding waist line
2. Looming finals week
3. Good old lack of fuel
4. 2 humongo papers awaiting me
5. The cough I'm just now getting over
6. A mild argument with roommate during dinner time (in front of whole house)

On the topic of humongo papers, J., my play analysis teacher announced today that our final exam has been cancelled [hurray!] and our final papers now count for 400 points [oh crap!]. The paper that I am currently avoiding is worth 40% of my final grade. In the words of Strong Bad, "Holy holy holy holy holy crap!!!" Anyway, I'm stressing just a little bit about this. I can just imagine myself walking to the FAB (how funny is it that the drama building is call the FAB?), crossing the street only to be hit by one of the crazy TalTran bus drivers who don't pay much attention to anything smaller than a Mack truck, and FAILING Play Analysis because of it. Ok, so maybe my imagination is getting away with me just a little bit, but that doesn't change the fact that there is a lot riding on this one paper, which is due in under 5 days and has yet to be undertook, not to mention finished.

Anyway, time to get some work done.

Random Thoughts and Observations from the Thanksgiving Holiday

Thankful to be back in Tallahassee after an abnormally long odyssey from Orlando. Hit much traffic between Orlando and Gainesville. A drive which would usually take around 2 hours ended up taking 2 and a half. Glad to be out of stop and go traffic...finally.

Clementine isn't at her usual perch, I'm getting worried. She wasn't there last Sunday night either. Maybe she migrated south to warmer weather. I hope she didn't, it was fun watching her.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. On the drive back I saw porch lights twinkling at me as I sped by on the interstate. Reminded me of something I've seen in a movie. The Bing Crosby Christmas CD we listened to only added to the feeling. I'm glad Christmas is almost here. I miss being at home and not having to worry about school and papers, although that seemed to be the hot topic between my friends and I over the weekend. "How's school going this semester?" "Are you ready for finals?" "Do you have to write any papers once you get back?" "What's your major again?" Hard to escape school when that's all you can think about, like a two ton piano hung above your head by a weak thread being chewed by a malicious rat named Percy who is suffering from the plague and a serious case of jealous because he never got a college education [absolutely dying to insert stab at rival college, straining to resist].

Wireless networking is wonderful.

Chasing the Sunset. We started heading west on I-10 around dusk. The sky was mostly dark blue, off in the distance it was pink and red and orange. We drove and drove, but the sky wouldn't dim completely. I found this strange, the sun usually sets quickly, but not this time, we were chasing the sunset. We had been on I-10 for over an hour when the sun finally fell into a deep slumber. I was envious.

I had more thoughts than this over the break, I have just forgotten them already. I guess they weren't important.

And so it begins...

Everyone goes through this yearly. The contemplating over what to get people for Christmas has begun. I've already decided what to get for a few people (will refrain from disclosing who and what as some of the recipients might actually read this), but the rest are a mystery. I can never figure out what to get for my parents, other than the obligatory calendar which I get for my dad every year. Although last year I didn't get him a calendar. Apparently my mom found a sale and got calendars for everyone, and I was like, well what am I going to get him now? I had to find a real gift for once. So anyway, the brothers and I are going to pitch in and get them something, so it should be pretty cool. I don't think anything is going to top what we gave mom last year though, cause it was awesome. We went and took black and white pictures of my brothers and I and bought matching frames. It was awesome. Now we find ourselves in a predicament like none before. In the past our Christmas gifts have been relatively corny little things, nothing comparable to the colossus of last year. There is absolutely no way we are going to one up ourselves, which is disappointing to say the least.

On a completely different note, the godfather of birds is back outside my window. It has been decided that it is a cardinal, and that since cardinals have their homes for life, that we (my roommate and I) should name our new neighbor. It's a female bird, so I probably should stop calling it the Godfather. How disappointing. Any suggestions on what to call her? I was thinking something Shakespearean.

If you think you're one of those people for whom I should be getting a Christmas present, leave me a comment and let me know what you want. Expensive jewelry and accessories are out of the question, so don't ask.

It's 3 AM, I must be lonely

I just returned to my desk after taking a short break from Romeo and Juliet to obtain a mug of hot chocolate. I'm just now starting on the body of my paper. My paper is due in under twelve hours. Also to be done in those twelve hours: sleep, attend two classes, eat. I'm thinking one or two of those events might have to be cut from my schedule, probably sleeping and eating. Why do I do this to myself?

I spent most of today sleeping, half-heartedly reading Shakespeare, listening to recently obtained music, sitting in front of my computer surfing the internet learning what mayhem occured thousands of miles away in the last 24 hours and just sitting in general. I should have been whole-heartedly reading Shakespeare, writing a paper, and reading my Play Analysis book. Now I'm up the creek without a paddle. And I'm stalling even more by writing in this blog. Once this night is complete, the aircraft of my conscious will be making a rapid descent towards sleep. By descent I mean nose dive. Let's hope I don't sleep through class again.

To be completely frank, I am fed up with writing a paper almost every week for Play Analysis. The only comfort I have in this paper is that after it's completion I will have only one left, plus a 3,000 word summary paper due on the day of the final, but I plan to ignore that one for at least another day. I did not think writing this many papers would be so bad, they are after all only 1,000 words each. But every week I find myself resenting them more and more. I have spent many moments thinking of a suggestion to make to my teacher for the benefit of future classes, but none presents itself. Writing these papers is pretty much unavoidable if the class goals are to be accomplished. I hate it when professors are right.

Home for the Weekend

This weekend I went home for the first time since school started. It was a nice (if brief) vacation from the life which I lead in Tallahassee. I, for a few moments, ignored the fact that I have a midterm, a paper, and a quiz staring me in the face and played Nintendo for as long as I wanted. My brother rented "Spiderman 2: The Game" and we both played far more than we should have, but well, it's not like there is much else to do, and besides, it's sibling bonding. Funny, isn't it? A computer program which is meant to entertain one person at a time brings my brother and I closer together. How sweet.

Since the hurricanes came through and messed up my house, it has undergone some serious changes. There's a new roof and tile in most of the house. The tile process is ongoing, and it just so happens that this weekend the laundry room was the target for rejuvenation. It also just so happens that I took a bag of clothes home to be washed over the weekend. Needless to say, I will be re-wearing a pair of jeans tomorrow. Don't you dare say that you've never done that. Everyone has. Step off. Anyway, I'm doing laundry tomorrow.

I bought Aida and Fiona Apple's Tidal, a CD which I have wanted for years, and have never obtained for lack of money. Now that I've got a little cash in the bank I can buy stuff. I should probably be saving it for a car. The little sibling and I spent most of the weekend playing Spiderman (gosh, Tobey Maguire is hot) and listening to Aida. Yeah, I know, I'm a loser. But well, as previously stated, it's bonding time.

Going back to the topic of motor vehicles, I went and looked at one today, about which I was fairly jazzed. The prospect of not having to find rides home and being able to go home at will is quite exhilarating. The prospect of having to get a job to pay for said car, necessary insurance, gas and cell phone (the obtainment of which must soon follow the car) is on the other hand a little (ok, a lot) depressing. Anyway, the car I visited today wasn't for me. It has an automatic transmission. I like manual. I know, most girls don't (too complicated for the female mind or something like that), but I would rather drive manual. I just feel cooler, although that might be the A/C. Ignore the fact that the car I get even with manual transmission is probably going to be a 4 door Ford Escort with under 75k miles, cruise control and air conditioning as opposed to the Ferrari which I envision as I slide that car around a corner and into the lamp post on the far side of the street. I've never done that, but well, I could see it happening...I've not actually tried taking a corner so fast that said situation would occur [did you feel a breeze? That was my parents breathing a sigh of relief]. Anyway, no matter what kind of car I end up getting, I will be happy that it has 4 wheels, an engine and isn't a Saturn.

The Godfather of Birds

There is a tree outside my window that is frequented by birds of all kinds. Cardinals, blue jays, pigeons. Last night perched on a branch was the godfather of birds. No joke. This bird was brownish-grey with a yellow beak and a girth twice that of any bird I've ever seen. It returned today as well. I couldn't help but wonder, have I done something to upset the Godfather of birds that he would linger by my window on multiple occasions? He sat there, his beady black eyes scoping me out, ruffling his feathers every few moments, his orange beak glaring like a warning sign.

Godfather of birds [in his best Brando voice]: You know why I'm here, kid.
Me: I don't godfather. What have I done to deserve such treatment? I didn't cheat you, I promise.
Godfather: You think I don't know that. I need a favor. My friends, the cardinals, have been attacked by a gang up north called the "sox."

I am reminded of the "Goodfeathers" cartoon of Animaniacs fame. Maybe the Godfather of birds just dropped in to scare away my roommate's hicups. Lets hope so, I was rooting for the Red Sox.

Dilapidated Old Buildings

Behind my wonderful house on Jefferson St there lies a slightly less wonderful house. Painted white and bordered on two sides by a parking lot and separated from our house by a row of foliage, this house belongs to the Southern Scholarship Foundation and houses students that attend the med school. This house is rather old. It doesn't quite look fit to live in, but I love seeing it anyway. There is no porch. The front door is unprotected from the elements, and the mailbox doesn't stay on it's pedestal. For some reason I adore this house. Twice a week I look out a back window as I clean the study room and see it's chimney. I can't help but think that perhaps this house resembles the humble abode of many Floridians over the centuries. It's simple, plain, but enchanting.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't give up my current living situation for that house, but well, it's nice to know that a stones throw away is a house that isn't filled with more than ten people, that someone has a place to themselves in the chaos of a college campus. It's the image of a haven in the middle of a perpetually moving ocean.

Chocolate

Have you seen that commercial for Hershey's chocolate that's got this guy standing there saying something about girls and then he goes [in a girlie voice] "chocolate, oh my gosh, I love chocolate!"? This has become a semi-favorite commercial of my beloved roommate (who, oddly enough, loves chocolate), so tonight when I got back from Crusade, I was like "Hey dude, would you like some chocolate?" expecting her to say yes as I pulled my stash of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures from under my desk. She surprisingly responded "no" but I placed a golden wrapped piece on her desk anyway; I knew she wouldn't be able to refuse. Sure enough a few moments later, she leaned forward, grabbed the savory piece of heaven, unwrapped the foil, and partook [yes, it's a word, I looked it up] of the Lord's goodness. I responded by placing a second Peanut Butter Cup Miniature on her desk. She has yet to respond to my gracious gesture of love. I think I might take it back. "The Laura giveth, and the Laura taketh away" she said. But no, we'll see who wins this battle of wills. I think it will be me, because my roommate, as I said before, happens to love chocolate. She begs to differ (on me winning, not on her loving chocolate).

I'll keep you posted.

Frozen Fruit Cups and Such

You know those fruit cups you get at the grocery store that have mixed fruit or pineapple or pickled pigs feet? Well, I happen to love those a lot. It's really unnatural. Anyway, somebody put a couple of these in the freezer, and I was like, "Oh, sweet, it's like a popsicle!" There is a difference, however between these things an popsicles: the wrapper on popsicles is removable. With the fruit cups you have kind of lick to top until it starts getting soft enough to squeeze, but by that point it time, your tongue is pretty much numb from licking the icy surface, so you can't really taste it. It's cruel really. Like how you kill a wolf in winter. You know, put a bloody knife in the snow so that it freezes over then the wolf comes a long and licks it so by the time it gets to the knife it's tongue is numb, so it can't tell that it's actually bleeding to death. Or something like that. It's a little gross, and I honestly would rather not thing about it. Anyway, once it gets softened up and the feeling returns to your tongue it's really quite good. You should try it.

Last night I had a paper to write on Bertolt Brecht's Mother Courage and Her Children. I was feeling in a rather artsy mood, and not in the mood to sit in front of a computer screen for hours on end, so I wrote the first draft by hand. And can you believe it, it took me less time to write it by hand then it would to write it on computer. Not because I write faster than I type, by no means, but I think it's that my brain could actually keep up with my writing speed, so I spent less time sitting idle and writing things like "Bertolt Brecht should die!" due to the lack of things to say. I don't think that really made any sense. Anyway, I typed up the paper in the half hour or so I had between my first and second class. But I was five words short, so I'm gonna go round out my conclusion. I hate conclusions. I never know what to say.

Morning Rituals

Everyone has some kind of morning ritual. My roommate gets up every morning several hours before she needs to go to class, eats breakfast while watching Golden Girls on Lifetime [aka the bane of my existence]. My morning ritual is quite different. I wake up and roll [literally] out of bed, hoping to miss the stack of plastic crates which is filled with random papers and school books, my backpack, and whatever vermin made it's home on my floor during the night. This, by the way, is after violently attacking my alarm clock for the last half hour or so for the ultimate sin of waking me up; how dare it! I seriously am about to go all Titus Andronicus on it's children. [Just a side note: if ever I become a famous musician, one of my songs/albums will be called "Just Like Titus Andronicus".] After the landslide that separates me from my bed, I partake in a warm shower. This part of my morning is not particularly interesting, I do it daily, and it never changes: lather, rinse, repeat. The remainder of my pre-class morning is usually filled with me trying in vain to avoid the squeaky spots on the floor as I rush about my room donning articles of clothing in an effort to arrive to class on time. I usually get downstairs around 8:50, spend a minute and a half searching the pantry for some form of sustenance which will not add to an expanding waist line, abandon the search, and grab a PopTart(r) as I make a mad dash out the front door, stopping only to lock it behind me.

My roommate doesn't understand how I get ready so fast. I don't perceive it as fast, but then again, I am the hare to her tortoise. I am up and out in under 30 minutes, depending on how long I sing in the shower. If I'm singing the first aria of La Traviata, it might take a little longer. And honestly, I don't know what that means or if La Traviata even has an aria. Anywho, it is now nearing the time at which I make a second mad dash for the door in hopes of being on time for my Play Analysis class. So farewell, my adoring public, may you have a wonderful day.

One of those rare days in which I post more than once...

So, as I said in the title for this post, I don't usually post in the same day. I'm usually not inspired to post more than once. I can only be so funny. But this post probably won't be on the funny side, just to give you some fair warning. (Wow, that is almost Brecht-ish.) I'm feeling a little melancholy at the moment. After browsing through a friend's live journal, my mind wandered to some other friends who also have live journals, and I spent the next half hour or so searching for them. Well, I found them in the vast jumble of people that is the live journal database, and proceeded to read their most recent posts. The posts were a little depressing to say the least for a few reasons:

1. The content of the post was depressing, addressing feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, etc etc. Anything that will make you depressed was in there.
2. The realization that I see these people around campus maybe once or twice a month, in comparison to the every day all day that used to be the reality.
3. Their lifestyle choices aren't exactly what I would consider moral. I'll leave it at that. I think all of us have friends that fall under a similar category.

So anyway, that has left me in this state of semi-depression/misery...that and the fact that I either can't go to Wal-Mart tonight or can't go to this extra credit thing for my Play Analysis class, not that I really need it, I just want a cushion if I happen to be late or absent one day, in case of getting hit by one of the crazy TalTran [I know, it's a tacky name, but I didn't come up with it, cause if I did the consequences would be grave] bus drivers.

Okay, so sorry for this whole post, I'm usually not this somber, in fact, I hate it being dark and gloomy. Life is too much fun to be taken seriously. So, back to my cheerful self next post. See you on the sunny side.

Garlic No More...and some Bragging

Since my last post the garlic scent which hovered around me like a cloud of mosquitoes on a warm summers night is now gone. Thank goodness, and I again apologize to everyone who has been in close contact with me, I know I smelled foul. Anyway. The bad thing about garlic is once it gets on something it stays there, people and objects alike. We all know that it is pretty much impossible to keep your hands off of things in general, unless you don't have hands, but most of the world does in fact have hands. If we tried to keep our hands off of things we would all be walking around like surgeons on ER with our hands in the air pushing open doors with our butts. I was not about to walk around like that until my hands smelled better. Not only would I look like an idiot for a few days (ok, look more like an idiot) but the garlic smell would be that much closer to my face. The latter prospect was the great issue in my opinion. As I was saying, essence of garlic stays on everything...forever!! Now all of the clothes I was wearing Thursday, Friday and Saturday smell like garlic; as well as the duvet cover on my comforter, my bed sheets, and my pillow case. Needless to say, laundry day this time around will take longer than usual.

And now for the bragging.
If you didn't watch the FSU v. UVA game this Saturday evening, you missed a great game, at least for us Seminoles. The popular chant from the student section? "OVER RATED!" (which was followed closely by "WYATT SEXTON!!") Yeah, we womped them, to say the least. All I have to say is, watch out world, we have a quarterback now.

Garlic Anyone?

I like the smell of garlic in moderation, but when it's eking out of my pores, well, it's not so nice.

Let me explain. Last night I made this rather tasty and scrumptious linguini with shrimp and garlic basil tomato sauce. I just have to go on record and say it was really good. One of my house mates described it as "the best meal she's ever had whilst living in this house." Anyway. This meal happens to have well, lets say a lot of garlic. Since I cooked this meal I was practically swimming in garlic for an hour and a half. Once dinner was over I thought that was the end of the garlic odor pervading the house, but no. Since all 17 of us ate garlic, all 17 of us smelled like garlic. And after it got into my system (I believe you know what system that is, no need for further explanation), my hands began to smell like garlic, nay my whole body began to smell like garlic. I take off my shoe: garlic. Wash my hands: garlic. Check my underarms: garlic. Yeah, garlic garlic garlic garlic. Ok, that's just a little bit of an exaggeration, it's just my hands that reek. It's like the scent that doesn't go away!!! I'm seriously going to have nightmares about garlic if I'm not careful. Last night I washed my hands five times hoping to be rid of the garlic smell and replace it with a nice light cucumber melon. But no. I still to this moment smell like garlic. So, if you smell me any time soon...I'm sorry.

Please don't let this incident with garlic change your opinion of the dish which has caused my olfactory distress, it was in fact quite good, and everyone thought so. So there. I'm a good cook. Don't doubt me or I will smite you with my garlic odors.

And just to tickle my ego a little, here are a few more comments on the greatness of the meal:
"Better than Olive Garden"
"The best meal I've ever had whilst living in this house" (I know you already read that one, but I seriously just had to say it again.)
"Really stinking good."
"definitely repeatable!"
"Much better than the spaghetti-Os I had for lunch!"
"Absolutely divine!!"

Ok, so that last one was mine, but I can't help it if I have good taste.

The Correlation between Cool and Comments

This post has sprung from a mini conversation between myself and my best friend [but only on the bus] about comments. This conversation is actually under the comments [go figure] of the previous post. Anyway, now to what I really want to talk about.

The number of comments on any particular post has the power to change the coolness levels of any particular person with a blog/livejournal/website/pulse. It seems like there should be a formula to figure the coolness of a person. Something [but only something] like this:

If # of comments ≥ 3, then coolness exists
If # of comments < 3, then floppery exists; flop=loser

The problem with this equation [other than it's illogicality] is whether or not you count your response posts in the total count. I, for example, like to reply to the comments that people post, frequently doubling the number of comments. And furthermore, do repeat commenters count once or as many times as they post? Is the 3 in the equation the total number or the number of people. This is in fact why I didn't get into mathematics in college. Can you tell that I was in a "special" program in high school? I wanted to use limits and derivatives (the limit of exists as comments (x) approaches 3...), but neither my word processor or my brain has that capability. So as you can see by the above equation, everything depends on how many comments you have, even your status as a living breathing human being. A harsh but necessary standard by which to live. Seriously. No, not seriously. Gosh, people take me too seriously. I don't even take myself seriously. Why am I using seriously so much? Seriously. Anyway, sorry about that little tangent there. Comments and coolness. Does it really have anything to do with how "cool" the author of the post is? Not really, I personally believe the actual contents of the post is what determines "coolness". This post for example has forever earned me the "nerd" label, in which case I am decidedly uncool, in more than a few circles. In the nerd circles however, I could possibly considered "hilariously funny," "intellectual and mirthful," and [dare I dream?] "cool".

Well, that is my treatise on cool and comments. To be sure, I am not talking about comments all the time because of the lack of comments on my posts, seriously [let us not start that again].

Cheerio. (Farewell. Not breakfast cereal.)

Greetings My Adoring Public!

Hello, my adoring public, all four of you. So glad to be communicating with you again. Not that I've been out of communication with you, but well, it's been a week or so since my last post, mostly because I have not been inspired for a week. A whole week. Is that bad that I am devoid of inspiration for that long? I guess its better than never being inspired at all. Lack of inspiration must be the most depressing thing ever. Maybe that's why I was in the dumps this past week, but let us not go there, it's a painful experience and I don't want to talk about it!!!!!! Gosh, you people never stop pushing!

Moving on to greener pastures.

Have you ever used dictionary.com? I have, and let me tell you, it's dangerous. Don't do it! You get sucked in to this vortex of knowledge and you're unable to escape until something more interesting comes your way! Dictionary.com is out to get us! Seriously though, you look up the definition for something which provides this huge list of synonyms, and once you click on one, you've got to click on the next. It's crazy, really. I literally spent an hour one day this past week on dictionary.com! Who knew that words could be so addictive?

[changing the subject]

My roommate has sleep problems. She like keels over and DIES if she doesn't get a certain amount of sleep. This evening, for example, I enter my room at roughly 9:12 pm to find her already in bed! Can you believe that? I haven't gone to bed before 9:00 since that one time in high school when I fell asleep on my math book and didn't wake up till 6:00 am the next morning. Am I weird to think she's weird? To be fair, I also have some serious sleep issues, cause I can live on like 2 hours of sleep and still function properly for the day. But honestly, 9:00 pm? You have got to be kidding me.

[yet another change of subject, could this mean that I lack focus?]

I saw a bluejay and three cardinals today whilst roaming around campus. The cardinals were playing in this garden I walk past on the way to my first class. I wish they had been playing baseball, because that would have been incredibly funny, but I must remind myself that birds don't play baseball. The bluejay perched on the tree outside my window and watched me play Minesweeper (yes, I'm that much of a dork) for a few minutes before being frightened away by my celebration dance once I finally beat the expert level. Ok, so that last part didn't happen, but I did see a bluejay on the tree outside my window. And I wasn't playing Minesweeper...it was Freecell.

[change of subject #4; lack of focus definitely a possibility]

If you like the new "favorite post" section on my side bar let me know, cause I like it, and I figured out how to do the HTML editing all on my own!! Isn't that nifty? I'm so proud of myself. If you're proud of me too, you might consider leaving a comment for me...seriously, it would be cool. I like getting comments, they make me feel slightly less loser-ish.

[If you're not Squirty, this doesn't concern you]
Hey le squirt,
Found some good info on Harvest Moon if you're interested at all. Check it out. And yes, I know I'm a dork.

Odd Sleep Patterns

I haven't been sleeping well lately. I don't really know why, but I've got the sneaking suspicion that it's to do with these Hurricanes that keep happening, that and my mattress isn't the most comfortable. It has caused me anxiety, especially over the last couple of days. Saturday night I was concerned about my family, and last night I was concerned for myself.

I could hear the branches of the tree that lives outside my window scraping the roof above me last night. It's an odd sound. Like something is scurrying around in the ceiling, mice or rats or malnourished children. After the power went out it was the darkest I had ever seen(or more accurately, not seen) the room. No green glow from my alarm clock or my roommate's (although hers is red), no yellowish beams from the wall light outside my window. It was eerily dark. The scraping of little malnourished children didn't help.

After the electricity returned, everything was back to normal, except for the malnourished children, but well, the wind hadn't died down yet.


And now....a portion of a conversation between me and Amy (this conversation has been edited to run in the space allotted):
<>
Amy: Maybe YOU are a figment of my imagination
Amy: . . .
Me: i think I am
Me: maybe the real Laura died in a fiery car crash 10 years ago, and the person you think is Laura stole her identity when she was 2 and has been obtaining credit cards in her name from Lane Bryant and Sears, Roebuck & Co.
Amy: Ahaha
Amy: You have such a rgeat imagination, the real laura or not
Amy: so if "you" died 10 years ago but "you" have stolen your identity since you were 2, then what happend to the years between 2 and 6?
<>Me: i'm not quite sure where you got the 6 because I'm 19, and in that time period, the fake laura (me) was laying low, because infact, I was equally young, and didn't quite know what a "credit card" is. I think for a good while I used it as a chew toy when I was teething, but you'd have to ask my mom about that

Sneezing Outlawed in Florida!!

This week it was announced that sneezing in all Florida counties is now illegal. This drastic measure has been put into place in hopes of avoiding yet another hurricane this season, because face it, you sneeze and next thing you know, there's a hurricane coming for your house. And if you haven't gotten that this is a joke yet, well then have I got a bridge to sell you. It's big and pretty, cars stuck in traffic included.

So, you've heard about Hurricane Jeanne by now. I don't know how the rest of Florida is fairing, but Tallahassee is okay. Lots of folks are out of power though. Florida State's campus still has power though (unfortunately). Last night our power went out around 12:30. I was actually writing a paper at the time, and the interruption was welcomed, mostly because I thought it would result in cancellation of school for the next day. Yeah, didn't happen. I got up this morning after a fitful night's rest and discovered that my alarm clock had messed up the time, and instead of 7:45 as it said, it was actually 6:45 (thanks M. for telling me) and I was awake an hour before I wanted to be. No problem, thinks I, I'll just go back to sleep for another hour. After that extra hour, I woke up and checked the FSU Website to see if they cancelled school like normal people would. I unfortunately did not have a genie who could make the website say: "School Cancelled". That's right, ladies and gentlemen, they asked us to go to class in Tropical Depression conditions. At least that's what it felt like. I was furious. The power had been out for hours the night before at my house, and the same was true for most of the city. But apparently since FSU has power, we had to go to class. [Confession in 5...4...3...2...1] Alright, I confess [see, I told you], the reason I wanted school to be cancelled was because I had a paper due at 1:25 and I had written only one [rather weak] paragraph.

I know, you're on the edges of your seats wondering if I finished my paper. Well, I'm not a bad TV show, so I will tell you right now. Yes, I finished my paper. I was 5 minutes late to class, but I finished my paper. And on top of all that, it was pretty good too. It was fun, and cool, I liked it. My teacher said she will grade them more leniently than usual, for which I am very thankful.

So that was my experience with Hurricane Jeanne. Well, there was more, but I don't feel like writing about that now. Maybe later tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. You'll just have to wait and see.

Deplorable Lack of Humor

Today I have felt a deplorable lack of humor. I was not particularly funny in my classes, not at home, not walking between class, nowhere. I am hoping that people just didn't find me funny today. Not that many people do in general. My roommate, M., doesn't seem to find me very funny lately. Some things that I find rip-roaring hilarious don't seem to even tickle her fancy. Maybe I'm not artsy enough. Maybe she's just a humor snob, and if it came from this nation, it can't be funny. Maybe I'm just not that funny. It's ok, I haven't been funny for most of my life. High school drama class: wasn't funny. Sunday School: wasn't funny. Summer job: wasn't funny. Funnier than the job itself and the 50 year old women that work there, but still, not funny.

I think I'm tired.

Thank You, VH1 for Reminding Me How Much I Love the 90s!

For those of you who don't have access to cable television, I am truly sorry. You are missing out on a GREAT show (series really): I Love the [insert decade here]. So far they have completed the 70s, 80s and my personal favorite, the 90s. I haven't actually seen all of the 90s yet, at least VH1's take on it, I saw the 90s in their entirety starting 14 years ago and ending 4 years ago. Even though the show aired over the summer, I was at home where we don't have cable and we devote our time to mastering the fine art of hybridizing plants on Harvest Moon. Anyway, I Love the 90s has revived my love for 90s music. As I sit here typing, the Spice Girls' "Wannabe" is flowing into my ears. The Spice Girls were by no means the pinnacle of 90s music, but man they were good, not talent wise, but their songs are so stinking catchy! If you were a 6th grade girl in 1996 like I was, you most definitely listened to the Spice Girls, and the Backstreet Boys, and you probably had a crush on Justin Timberlake or JC Chasez, although I was thankfully spared from the teenie-bopper crushes...no crying over inaccessible guys in this camp. Pining maybe, but no tears shed, really. I saved those for people I could actually talk to. Although there was that thing for Leonardo DiCaprio, but that was really because I needed someone to pine after, nothing serious, except for those dreams, I mean....never mind.

Sledding (Part 2)

(Before reading this you might want to check out the first part of this story)

Upon discovering the minefield of cow pies, my brothers and I prepared to attack the hill like never before. We knew that getting down the hill would take shrewd negotiations of the cow pies, we would have to steer. Our first attempts were miserable failures. We would start down the hill doing some strategic leaning, and end up with our faces in the snow. Time and time again we tried this, until we finally made it all the way down the hill, leaving an S-shaped path behind us.

One thing we hadn’t realized at the beginning of the expedition was that some of the cow pies had been dropped early that morning and they had not had time to freeze solid. The exterior appeared the same as all the others, but the insides were still soft and smelly. I discovered this phenomenon the hard way.

We had finally mastered the technique of leaning to navigate the hill; at least, that’s what we thought. The run began as all the others had, but on this occasion, I took a lean a little bit too far, steering us over a rather substantial cow pie. Our craft was thrown off balance, and we were sent sprawling in the snow. My lean caused me to be thrown one way, and my brothers the other. I hit the snow on my side and began rolling, why waste a perfectly good walk up the hill? I did not notice the cow pie ahead of me. I rolled over it and hear a definite crunch-squish sound, and, well, let say the odor wasn’t so nice either. I had discovered that candy isn’t the only thing that comes hard on the outside, soft on the inside.

By the time I got to the bottom of the hill much of the manure had rubbed off my jacket onto the snow, leaving dark spots on the otherwise white hill. The smell, however, had not rubbed off. My brothers doubled over in laughter as I huffed and puffed about it. Eventually I got over it, and we continued our sledding.

Letting My Thoughts Cook

It's 9:36pm. I have homework to do. I'm not doing it. After spending much of my afternoon reading Big Love over and over, I've decided to take a break and let the play cook in my mind for a while before I attempt to find something in it about which to write a paper. Letting it stew for a while is definately the best thing I could do right now. Earlier this evening I spent half an hour lying flat on my back, my right leg bent at the knee, my left fully extended, my toes playing with the electric chord for my alarm clock, wracking my brain for some way to tie a few thoughts together to at least getting rolling on my paper. I found nothing. Thoughts would fly through my head, and just as a reached out to grab them, they would dissipate, like fog on a sunny day. I'm tired of writing papers for this class. This is the second paper in one week, the fourth over all. There are 9 more to go. Each 1,000 words, each more difficult than the previous.

So I've decided to let it stew in my brain. These things take time. I'm waiting for that "ah hah!!" moment, when everything starts clicking, when everything falls into place. Until that moment comes, I am doomed to continue mulling over the work of Charles L. Mee (Chuck), hoping beyond hope that I will not be up into the wee hours of the morning.

On a completely different note, I've stumbled across a blog by a girl filming a movie in Italy. Seeing as we have somewhat similar choices of profession, I have found her blog interesting. And she's in Italy. Have I mentioned that I want to go to Italy next summer? Well, I do. I've been praying that it is in God's will to send me there. I spent this summer sorting checks for other students who got to travel all over the world for mission trips, and it sparked a desire in me to go too. So I want to go.

This afternoon I took a break from Big Love and lay down on our patio swing. My head propped up on a pillow, I watched the sun filter through the trees on a nearly perfect evening. Nearly perfect only because I still had homework to do. The air was perfect: warm, but not hot; the breeze cool and gentle. I dozed off, my book open on my stomach. I dared to imagine for a moment that I didn't have any responsibilities. The computers all were working perfectly, my essay was finished, printed and in my backpack for the trek to class tomorrow morning. There was nothing I had to do, nowhere I had to be. Then my courage floundered, and I returned to real life: the computers still ran slower than Fat Albert, I still had work to do, my essay was still a cluster of discombobulated thoughts colliding in my grey matter.

Current music: Fiona Apple-Sleep to Dream
"You say love is a hell you cannot bear, and I say give me mine back and then go there, for all I care." Awesome song. You should hear it.

They Finally Got the Hint

If you've watched the weather channel in the last week, you've certainly heard about Hurricane Ivan, which is scheduled to reach the Florida panhandle and gulf coast some time very very soon. Until the afternoon, my beloved Florida State University had not closed school for tomorrow, a fact which had the entire student body up in arms. Did they not know that a class 4 hurricane was bearing down on Florida? Even my Play Analysis instructor was put out by their apparent insensitivity towards the hurricane.

About 5:30 the university succumbed and cancelled classes for Thursday, and the celebration began. I happened to be in the living room when everyone found out, and there was a general eruption of joy from every voice in the house, except mine, I never have class on Thursdays. Everyone changed their plans for the evening. Instead of staying in and studying, everyone started getting ready to go out for a night on the town.

The boys from next door came over and we watched Donny Darko. Everyone was a little bit confused, but some more than others. Soon after the movie they left for a Halo tournament. Boys will be boys, eh? My roommates and I watched Hero, the version with translation by Chinese people, the one that is accurate. At least that's what my roommate says. I spent most of the movie making fun of goofy looking hats and slaughtering the Chinese language, unintentionally of course.

Now it's after midnight, and we're watching Peter Pan, the live action version made last year. If you haven't seen it, then you should. Forget that it was made for children; it's a great movie, especially if you can still let your imagination run away with you.

Just Stuff

Today has been a "blah" kind of day. I went to class this morning, and frankly, it didn't spark my interest. Once again in my Tech Theatre class we talked about the Florida State University School of Theatre Production Handbook. Despite being written by artists, it has to be one of the most boring pieces of writing I have ever encountered. Not that it's supposed to be interesting, but for goodness sake, for people who's jobs it is to teach people how to entertain, you'd think they could write something that would pique my interest. But no, we instead spent 50 minutes of valuable sleep time reading verbatim from the Production Handbook. It was mostly about fire safety, what to do in case of a fire, stuff like that. Stay calm and run for your life was basically the gist of it.

AND FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, WHY HAVEN'T I GONE TO THE POST OFFICE YET?!?

Anyway, after Intro to Tech Theatre, I had Intro to Shakespeare, where Dr. Barbour told us what to think about Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. We ended class right before everyone DIES. I was disappointed; I wanted to read about the deaths of Hamlet and company. We start Othello next class, after the dispatchment of every major character in our current play. Right.

I came back to my beautiful house on Jefferson St., the sidewalk of which is currently barricaded by our mountain of rubbish (crammed neatly into garbage bags) pulled from the bushes and flowers of our front yard last Saturday morning. I personally dug up five saplings from the maze of bushes which surround my front porch. I didn't want to, I like trees, but I would never hug one, unless it talked back, not that I talk to trees; never mind.

MTV kept me company while I ate my lunch, then I went upstairs and took a nap before my 1:25 class, to which I was on time for once. We analyzed a play, sort of, talked about it, yeah. It was pretty interesting though. I just don't want to write the paper for it which is due Wednesday.

After that, everything has been "blah." And this has been my "blah" day. Buy a llama.

Hurricane Charley

I first heard about Hurricane Charley Wednesday evening when they were starting to predict land fall on Florida's Gulf Coast. It didn't bother me. Local news channels are always warning of gloom and despair. It has happened before, I thought, and it will happen again; there is no way this hurricane will hit us. Hurricane Bonnie went through the Panhandle the next day. I went to a movie with my girls; "The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement." It wasn't much to crow about, but as we left the movie theatre the first bands of Charley began dumping rain on us. I wasn't worried. The last time there was a storm in the gulf we got buckets of rain. When I got home my parents were watching the weather. The newscasters were saying the storm would hit Tampa, and Orlando would probably get some fairly high winds, but the brunt of the storm would miss us. My parents decided we should start getting ready, just in case. We had been working on painting parts of our house, so the garage was full of painting supplies and paint dust from the doors which I had sanded to a satin-smooth finish before painting them creamy white. Since I had made the mess of white powder, I got to clean it up. I missed the last night of Ultimate Frisbee with the college group for the summer. I spent 2 hours cleaning and vacuuming the garage, and moving boxes around so there was room for both of our cars.

That night little changed in the weather forecast. The weather man was still saying Charley was headed for Tampa, and they evacuated the city. Thousands of people from the Tampa area flooded Orlando the next day.

I woke up late Friday, hoping that I had missed any further precautionary measures my parents had taken if Charley had shifted while I slept. They hadn't done anything more, but Charley had started to shift, and it was looking like he would come ashore a little farther south than originally predicted, but still steering far west of Orlando.

Dad came home from work around 1:30 and made the executive decision to tape up the windows like we had done for Hurricane Floyd a few years back. Fortunately we still had blue painters tape left over from our painting project. I went around the house putting blue Xs on the windows. By the time we had finished it was around 3 pm, and the Channel 9 weather man was saying that Charley was coming for us, and Charley was now a class 4 hurricane. It had jumped from 2 to 4 in under 30 minutes.

By the time Charley came aground at Punta Gorda, we were ready. The windows were taped, the cars were in the garage, and all of Mom's potted plants were inside the house, along with some friendly lizards. All we could do was wait. Orange county officials order mandatory evacuations for people in mobile homes. Folks with special needs started getting to shelters on the west side of Orange County. Around 7 pm tornado warnings went into effect for most of Central Florida. We sat in the living room watching reporters on the coast fight the wind and rain of Charley's fury. One cameraman caught an image of the roof of the Port Charlotte Post office losing its roof and all of the mail inside. Another cameraman captured footage of his reporter being struck by pieces of the roof of the building behind which they stood. As Hurricane Charley came inland it lost a lot of power, but there was still enough to do a lot of damage, it was still a class 2.

By 8:30 we were feeling the effects of Charley. The wind was rattling the windows, and the rain poured out of the sky. I looked out our front door and could hardly see the flowers 10 feet away at the end of the walkway. I went upstairs in search of my flashlight should the power go out, but came back downstairs quickly when a strong gust of wind shook the second story of my house. I could feel the floor quiver beneath my feet. My parents moved us into their bedroom which they deemed the safest room in the house that wasn't a closet. We sat there watching the TV as the storm tore through Orlando. Charley had come much farther east than anyone had anticipated. We watched as the radar showed the storm passing over our city, the eye of Charley coming within a few miles of our house. Every so often we would hear a thud as something struck the house or as tree branches fell to the ground. The door to my parents’ bedroom would vibrate as the winds pushed through tiny gaps around the front door. My dad and I went to check the house and make sure we hadn't lost a window. We could already see spots on the ceiling where rain water was coming through the roof. Tine bubbles of water formed and popped as the wind forced it through the cracks between the door and wall. Dad pushed furniture and one of Mom's plants against the door for reinforcement. Through the back window I saw branches from the neighbor's tree hanging on the sagging fence. Once the worst had passed my brother and I returned to the living room and watched the remainder of the Olympic Opening Ceremony. After the wind stopped howling I went to bed upstairs in a quiet house.

Sledding

I grew up on a farm in Virginia; at least that's what I tell people. My earliest memories were created on that farm, many of them fond, some not. The one that seems to come back to me the most is as follows.

One winter a big storm came through the valley, dumping inches of white fluffy snow on the ground. It was perfect for sledding. My brothers and I made the short hike out to our favorite sledding hill, which doubled as the front hay field when not covered in snow, dragging sleds behind us. We had borrowed our friend's toboggan sled, a long molded sheet of hard plastic on which three children could slide down the hill at incredibly fast speeds, or so it seemed to our young minds. Upon conquering the sledding hill, my brothers and I would pile onto the sled, Keith in the front, then me, then Paul bringing up the rear. The first few runs would take a minute to get started; the snow was still soft and the sled would stick. Paul would place his hands on my back and run and push us like an Olympic bobsled team going for the gold medal, jumping on just as the sled began to speed down the hill. Sometimes we would successfully make it all the way down the hill, coming to a stop slowly at the bottom. More frequently one of us would lean to one side throwing the sled off balance and thrusting us head first into the snow, sending us rolling and laughing all the way down the hill. We sledded for most of the afternoon, our cheeks and foreheads becoming rosy as the sun glinted off the tiny snow crystals, slowly baking our faces. The sun sank low on the horizon and our tummies told us it was time to go home. We walked home, pulling the sleds behind us, smiling and laughing, knowing that Mom would have grilled cheese and soup for us when we got back.

That evening the farmer who rented the land let the cows into the front hayfield. If you've ever been around cows, you know that they don't plan where they relieve themselves. In this case they relieved themselves on our nicely packed sledding hill. That evening it froze again. The snow which had partially melted during the day turned to ice, and on top of the snow was an ever so thin layer of ice. Also at the top of the snow on our sledding hill were frozen cow pies, dotting the hill like landmines ready to destroy a perfect trek down the hill. Soon after lunch we found those pies, and saw them as a challenge. We were determined that the cow pies would have no effect on our sledding for the day. WE WOULD NOT LET IT STOP US!!

more to come...

Riding In Cars With Boys

Every weekday morning, I begin my public life by riding in a car. A quick beep beep summons me out to the car where I am usually greeted by four aging men. My dad hollers "Laura, it's time to go!" as he walks out the front door. Friday the driver was Pops, an old man with a Tennessee accent and thick glasses, by far the oldest looking man in the carpool. "Morning," he says as I slide into shotgun. He puts the car into reverse and we slowly back out of the driveway. "Morning," I reply as I suffle my backpack, lunchbox and water bottle into a comfortable position around my feet. The half hour commute to work wears on, growing increasingly painful by the minute. Pops feels that conversation is necessary to ward off awkward silence. I happen to disagree, but the decision is not left up to me. "So what are you doing at work today, Laura?" "The same thing I do every day," I reply as images of a mouse with global ambitions and a large head enter my mind and bounce around like the slender sidekick of my mouse friend. "Oh, right. And what is that again?" he asks. "I sort checks, enter them into the computer, that stuff." I reply, hoping he catches the annoyed tone in my voice. He thankfully does. "Oh right. Thanks for doing that, we really appreciate everything you all do." "No problem." I am getting paid after all, and a lot more than most folks my age with no real work exprience. The rest of the ride is carried out in silence, and I am finally allowed to tilt my head back and sleep for the remainder of the ride.

It Has Come To My Attention...

...That my blog is really boring. My life is really boring. I get up every day, go to work, come home, go to the gym on occasion, watch TV, hang out with people a couple of nights a week, sleep. That for the moment is my life. In reading about other people's lives, I have come to realize that there are so many important things occuring around the world at this very second, so many interesting things, and I am not privy to any of it. You know what I did today? Attended church this morning, came home, ate lunch, went to the gym, came home, went to a friend's house, played billiards, watched a movie. That was it. Nothing particularly exciting.

And yet I have become satisfied with my boring life. It's not exciting, but I am content to go to work and actually do something. It's not even particularly funny to anyone but me.

Health woes

My blood pressure yesterday was 160/110. If you aren't familiar with blood pressure, this means nothing, if you are, you know that this is ridiculously high. I talked to my mom on the phone today and she kind of freaked, not to me, but I can tell by her reaction. My parents are out of town for the time being, and they kind of left me in charge of the house. Seeing that I have two brothers who don't really care what the house looks like, it is an uphill battle to keep it reasonably clean. This has caused me some frustration, which has lead to unnecessary stress, which inevitably raises my blood pressure. I have never seen my blood pressure that high, and it worried me, but not as much as it worried my mom. She talked to my brothers this afternoon and I'm guessing told them to be nice and helpful. Keith cleaned up after dinner tonight without being asked (which NEVER happens). Paul said he would make a deal to cook dinner and clean up afterwards for every day that I went to the gym. The thing is, I would rather not be treated like an invalid, and frankly, it's not fair for either of them if I sit around. Paul has a job, and Keith has had school since I got home, although he gets out tomorrow.

I thing the stress that I'm experiencing is stemming from more than just house work, because I don't mind house work. I still don't have a job, and the prospect of going through that process is stressful, because I hate asking people for things. I'm really independent, which perhaps is why I'm reacting like this to my mom asking my brothers to help out. I'm not an invalid. I can do things for myself, I don't need my brother to cook for me every night. It's not like I'm going to die.

I don't understand why my blood pressure was so high anyway, because I am currently under relatively low stress, especially in comparison to the past semester. And I've been exercising too, a lot, so one would think that would have a positive effect on my cardiovascular health, not negative. I know I'm overweight, and I'm working on that, but come one now, I'm no more overweight than I was this past semester. I guess I'm just a little confused about the whole thing.

Thoughts

Shrek 2 was pretty funny, not as funny as I had hoped, and certainly not as funny as mi hermano major made it out to be, but funny none the less.

Exercise is fun, especially when you start seeing results.

muhahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa

I miss my ADK girls, especially the ones who aren't coming back next semester! I don't think I've ever been so excited to see someone on instant messenger in my LIFE, except for when I moved up to college and saw my Orlando friends online for the first time. It's strange how tight of a bond you make with people in less than a year, but I'm missing all of them (well, maybe not ALL, most) a lot.

My brother has been really not nice today...maybe it's his time of the month. Yes, I know, guys don't have that time of the month, but I really think there is something hormonal going on that changes that makes them cranky and plain disagreeable. And furthermore, must he sit in front of the TV blocking the view of EVERYONE else in the room? Gee, it's like he thinks he's the only one that lives there. And where does he get off treating my other brother like crap? It's not like he's perfect, even if he acts like he is.

Being "the woman of the house" is really freaking hard. My parents are out of town for 2 weeks and I get to play mom for said period of time, and frankly it sucks. Boys are so dirty. They cook something and they don't wash their dishes when they're done. If I didn't clean up their food it would stay out there all week. When I wasn't responsible for things I didn't notice them, like the daily overflow of the trash can. Oh crap, I totally forgot to pick the vegetables today...SHOOT! The living room is always messy because none of us fold blankets when we're done with them, Paul insists on throwing the throw pillows all over the room. I know they are throw pillows, but that's their title, not their purpose. I have a lot more appreciation for my mother now that I've had to take her place for a brief period of time.

Ok, enough of my thoughts for now. Go do something productive.

My First Two Weeks of FREEDOM

I've been home for about two weeks now, and it has definitely been strange living with my family again. All five of my family members now live under the same roof full time. My older brother has not really lived here for almost 2 years, and he's back now because of his internship at Lockheed Martin. Everyone in my family has stuff to do except me. Why? Well honestly, I'm a little lazy. I don't have a job yet, although I've been working on it a little harder lately. I took an alphanumeric typing test Monday so I could get a job at Campus Crusade, even though that might not happen at all. Due to my lack of a job, I spend much of my time at home in bed, or playing stupid computer games, or watching old TV shows, or listening to music, or cooking, or doing yard work, or cleaning the bathroom, or my room, or the living room, or the kitchen. I do a lot of cleaning. My brother seems to think that since I've come home he is totally absolved of doing chores, which irritates me more than a little.

And now for a disgusting story...
When I came home, I was greeted by a bathroom which had not been cleaned for several months, not weeks, MONTHS. Perhaps boys are blind to the layers of dirt and grime building up on the bathtub floor and walls, the hardened toothpaste permanently fused to the sink. Unfortunately, I was not born with selective impairment of sight. After a day of prodding my beloved brother to clean the bathroom with little result, I set to cleaning it myself. It took three long hours, but believe me, the room sparkled - just like in those corny scrubbing bubble commercials.

This weekend I hung out with "the gang" quite a bit. Now that everyone (except me) has a job, that is pretty much the only time we have to hang out. Saturday night I went over to a friend's house and we played croquet in the back yard and jumped on their trampolene, not at the same time of course. After it was too dark to stay outside and the mosquitoes started biting, we retired to the living room where we sat around talking like a bunch of old fogeys and flipping through magazines. At least no one was knitting. The guys started talking about hunting and firearms and politics and history, and we contented ourselves with flipping through "Country" magazine looking for the hidden needle. Ok, so that's not all we did, but to think that we were doing that at all, boy, we need a life.

Sunday afternoon a bunch of us got together and played ultimate frisbee and volleyball, which was a lot of fun. I haven't played a good game of ultimate frisbee since the trip to Estonia 2 summers ago. It was a lot of fun. All of this to say, yes, we do engage in youthful activities sometimes - no need to worry about the premature aging of my friends and I.

Have a wonderful day!!!

Summer Vacations

Being back on summer break is kind of a strange feeling. I could not wait for this time to come when I was at school, but now that it's here, I miss my friends from up there (and if any of the ADK girls happen to read this, I don't know how they would, but I miss ya), but it's nice being back with my friends down here, especially the hot ones of the male species.

So why is my summer vacation not totally peachy? Well, I don't have a job. This has effected my break in several ways. First, I sit around the house all day not doing anything. Second, my parents are very aware that I don't have a job, which is something they've been prodding me to do for the two previous summers (basically, they remind me daily that I need to be looking for a job). Third, lack of a job equals lack of money; lack of money equals no fun for me; let us face it, you need money for EVERYTHING!!! Oh, and what makes it worse, my brother is being paid $18 an hour to work for Lockheed Martin this summer!! AGH!!!!!!! I should mention that I haven't really TRIED finding a job yet, but I don't really feel like it. Frankly, I like sitting around all day.

On a totally different note, my family has joined the Y. Yeah, as in "It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!!!" sung by a bunch of gay men in funny outfits as will as every kid who hasn't realized what these gay men are getting at. Anyway. I did 30 minutes on the elliptical glider, which SUCKED, because I stepped off and felt like I'd done 30 minutes of stadiums. I've been walking funny ever since, and the stair to my room which were once a minor obstacle have become a chore. Ok, so it's not that bad. I am actually quite thankful because I'm on the heavy side, and I would love to get into shape for the first time in my life.

I have just recounted what I've been doing for the last two weeks. Pretty boring, eh? Oh my gosh, I've been home for two weeks, and have done nothing. Wow, this sucks. Oh well, nothing is good, right? Oh, and if you have a job that needs to be done, I'm here. I am smart, reliable, and loyal. I have a 3.87 GPA, and I'm an 18 year old Junior in college....HIRE ME!!!!

One Year Down....

I am almost finished with my first year of college...COLLEGE!!! Can you believe it? It feels like yesterday that I was preping for IB exams and performing Les Mis for the 5th or so time. But no, that was a year ago, and I've grown up some since then. Some stuff isn't as important as I thought, some stuff is more important than anticipated. Like the value of alarm clocks...yeah, the are the best invention known to mankind, although if you asked me at 6:50 this morning I'm sure I would have given you a completely different answer. Without my alarm clock I'm sure I would have slept through many more classes than I have.

I think what I've learned this year that has been the most valuable is: 1) Always wear your eyes and ears, cause if you don't, something BAD is definitely going to happen (i.e. temporary loss of hearing in one ear, saw dust in the eyes, etc.) 2) God is always there, no matter what, no matter how many papers I have to write, no matter how insufficient I am, no matter how worthless I feel on any given day, He's there...and going to him always makes stuff feel better, even if going to Him has kept me up for an extra half hour.

That second thing there has taken me a long time to realize. In high school I never took advantage of the abundant grace and power of the one true God, and I think it showed in how stressed out I would get, you know, to the point of tears. This semester has definitely been stressful, but I haven't gotten overly emotional about it, it didn't seem as important in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter if I didn't get the perfect grade on some things, cause it doesn't matter when juxtaposed with the eternal.

So that's what I've learned this year, and especially this semester..that and 534 BC was when the first tragedy was performed in Europe, even though we don't really know that, it's just an educated guess.

There is no guarantee that I will continue writing over the summer, I will probably be busy chillin with my homies (at the Holidae Inn, j/k), but I will make an attempt to do so, because, well, I like it, and it's fun.

I'm updating my blog JUST FOR DESIREE!!!!!

Heyo, I'm trying to write a paper today before Bible Study tonight, but I don't know if that's going to happen, cause it's supposed to be five pages long, and as of yet I only have 1.5 pages, and my opening paragraph (which is like half of that amount) SUCKS!!!! I'm so out of practice writing long papers, it's sick. I really just want to curl up on the couch and sleep right now, but I don't think that's going to happen either. Playing guitar would be nice too.

I could have been writing this last night, but a series of events lead me to NOT write it last night. See, I got back from Scene Shop (in which I'm making this totally cool stair unit/cd holder) discovering that dinner was being called 45 minutes early, much to my delight, because I was REALLY hungry (the feeling, not the country). After I ate (too much) my roommate informed me that she was going to Target and wanted to know if I would like to tag along. I said yes...I needed sheet covers. We were at Target for FAR too long. The Target visit ran directly into going to the Student Life Building to watch "Return of the King" with Crystal, Bridget, Jennifer, and a large paper cup of Coca-Cola (which wasn't so smart on my part because, if you hadn't noticed, a large paper cup full of Coca-Cola induces the need to empty one's bladder frequently, and "Return of the King" is the LONGEST FILM KNOWN TO MANKIND!!!!....you get the point).

I have a sneaking suspicion that this online journal thing is kind of boring, because it's just talking about what I do all the time, and I find it boring as I'm doing it most of the time, so I don't know what prompts me to think that you (Desiree, since I think you're the only person other than myself that every reads this thing) would care about the day to day goings and comings of my boring life as a Florida State Seminole. And speaking of that, the local American Indian Student Union folk are protesting the Seminole as our schools mascot, even though the Seminole Tribe of Florida is jazzed about being the school's mascot....go figure. Some people just need to get over themselves, cause you know what, I personally would be honored if some school's mascot was the "Laura's," I seriously would go to every single game. Anyway, what was I talking about. Oh yeah, boring. So boring in fact that I can't remember what I was talking about, yeah it's that engaging!!

Anyway, I think I'm gonna split now and go work on my paper and oh crap I have to go to class!!!! AGH!!

Back in the Library With Some Random Thoughts

I haven't been here for a while, not to just sit and chill out. Several times I've spent endless hours researching various theatre related topics, all of which have become ridiculously boring to me, but not since early this semester have I just sat, wrote, talked to people online, etc. I kind of miss it. It's nice to relax for a few moments in the midst of my hectic world. Oh, my tummy's growling.

Do you ever get the feeling that all of the classwork you have to do really won't relate to your life outside of college? I get that feeling all the time. What do I care about research papers and how to do all that crap properly? I want to build things, make them look pretty to people in an audience. Maybe I'm just sick of school. It's not hard to get sick of school. There's always so much to do, and it's not that it's difficult, just a pain in the butt.

My parents and brother were here this weekend. We went down to "Springtime Tallahassee" and it was kind of boring, but it was nice being with them again, doing something other than sitting around the house playing Nintendo (although that is one of my favorite things to do at home). It was a little strange seeing them in this venue, it's totally different than what I'm used to, but good none the less.

My neck pops a lot, I should go see a chiropracter.

Happy Friday Everyone!!!

So, it's Friday, everyone's favorite day of the week. Here's a recap of my week:
Sunday: didn't go to church, didn't have a ride, which I didn't find out until 10:45am Sunday. Had a play to read and write a response to, until 2am (Monday morning).
Monday: Got up, went to class (Creative Design, yuck), found out I had a test Friday, went to next class, fell asleep. Went back to ADK (i.e. 'home'), ate lunch, watched TV until 1:10 when I went to Physics (yuck).
Tuesday: Got up late (noon), power showered, went to class...guest speaker, kind of boring. Went to next class, sewed for 3 hours. Went home, ate dinner. Homework till 2am.
Wednesday: Creative Design, again. Intro to Theatre History, again, turned in the homework I had been working the night before. Went home, slept for several hours. Went to Physics (slightly confused because I had just woken up), sat in the Union taking advantage of the wireless network, bought Circus tickets for this weekend, went home. Did almost nothing. Went to Bible Study. Slept.
Thursday: Like Tuesday, except Load-In for Flea in Her Ear, not sewing. Went home, sat around for a while. Played April Fools joke on Angelica with Bridget and Christina (we put tabasco sauce in her lasagna late plate, hehehe), planned and executed April Fools joke on Rotary boys, got flour all over Cedric and Brad, got Cedric REALLY REALLY mad (I don't really blame him, getting covered in flour would suck). Made brownies to apologize. Neglected Homework.
Friday: Class, class, meeting, lunch (at Wendy's, yum!), this, class, laundry.

Ok, so the last couple of things under Friday haven't happened yet, but it's all good. Anyway, gotta go to class...and my batteries are dying.

Hey, how's it going? I'm good...if you use 'good' loosely. My classes are going well, my parents are going to be in town this weekend, I have a paper to write (which I'm not looking forward to), and I'm a little stressed about my test Friday. But what else is new...I am a college student after all.

This morning after falling asleep in my first class, I went to my second class, took notes, went to Subway, got a tasty sub, went home, ate sub, fell asleep on the couch, for several hours. It was nice....until 1:10 when I had to get up and go to class.

Here's a poem I wrote...it's not very good, but bear with me.

The Drive

I pull out of the driveway, turn the ever familiar corner.
I’ve made that turn hundreds of times.
It’s different somehow.
I know I won’t be back for a while.
The turn waits for me to come home.
It knows that I’m not there.
That I’ve left and not returned.
It waits.

I turn more corners.
They’ve changed a little since the first time I left.
I take notice.
This light is longer than normal,
I think to myself.
It turns green.
I go.
The toll road welcomes me with a bump.
It stays.

The road is familiar—for a while.
I pass over roads and under.
They are still familiar.
I zone out.
The roads stop being familiar.
I wonder where I am.
The signs tell me.
I don’t understand.
It is foreign.
I feel alone.

The road goes on.
I drive.
Hands caress the wheel.
I have nothing else to do.
A song comes on the radio.
I know it.
My brother used to play it on his guitar.
I wish he was with me now.
He’s not.

I pass a familiar sign.
It says I’ve only an hour to go.
I breathe a sigh.
It’s getting close.
I drive.
The road is friendlier.
I’m not as lonely.
The corners recognize me.

I know them.
They welcome me.
I turn a final corner.
I’ve turned it before.
Many times.
I turn into the driveway.
The ever familiar corner.

Negligence...

My deepest and most humble apologies for being entirely negligent on updating my blog, but I figured that since hardly anyone reads it that the frequency of my updates probably doesn't really matter that much. But oh well. It's Spring Break for those of us at FSU (and UF..maybe some other schools too), and I've celebrated this occasion by going home to Orlando...ah yes, good old Orlando. My mom is in Thailand for the week, so many of the things that are wonderful about home (good food mostly) are absent....I could cook, but I just don't wanna.

I'm supposed to go job hunting tomorrow and I don't quite know what to do about it...because I don't particularly want to, and I really have no idea who to put down for my references, because I've never had a job, and I'm totally isolated from all of my professors/people in control. Oh well, I'll get over it.

Back To School

Another Semester has begun here at the Alpha Delta Kappa Scholarship House. Everyone is still getting adjusted to having 4 new girls in the house, and not having 4 old friends here as well. The dynamic has changed, but hopefully it will normalize within a week or two. With the new girls has come new conflicts within the house, including the first need for fines, both housewide and individual. So here's the story behind the housewide. Everyone knows that college campuses aren't exactly the safest place on the face of the planet, therefore we lock our doors all the time, and everyone is aware of this rule. But some people, being entirely unsensetive, thought it necessary to leave several doors unlocked. We don't know who keeps doing it, only that it is a problem. Also, no one is allowed to touch the thermostat, because it wastes electricity every time it is changed. So someone went and changed it, even after several house warnings. This I am not happy about at all. The signs were posted all over the house, even under the thermostat, so there is absolutely no way that someone could be ignorant of the policy. It just agrivates me that someone would be that incondiderate.

The personal fine went to one of the new girls, a Chinese Music major who is not new to the Foundation. The rule violated? No guys can enter in the back doors, and what does she do??? Brings a guy through the back doors, and doesn't even sign him in. One of the officers saw her sleeping during the house meeting, which is probably why she is completely ignorant of most of the rules, even the ones that are aimed directly at her. She's giving her roommate fits because she talks on her cell phone loud and late into the night. Her roommate is by the way a nursing student who has to get up early every single day. What I don't understand is how she has stayed in the foundation. She's completely inconciderate of her fellow housemates, and she is constantly breaking rules, and it's not like they are difficult rules to follow.

On a completely different note, I was watching "You've Got Mail" on the tube this evening, wishing for a boyfriend, and wishing for someone to converse with online from time to time. I have friends that I talk to, but they are seldomly on when I am, because I really don't have much time to spend online during the evenings, mostly because I don't have internet access in my room, but that's besides the point. There is something appealing about being able to connect with someone where you are able to erase your words and rephrase them before sending, especially when you tend to ramble on incesantly, getting nowhere in live conversations, and generally sounding like a fool when I do. Sigh, why can't life be full of Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks-like couples living their lives together in utter happiness, never really having to worry about certain things (like hair and makeup because there is always someone to do it for them). And why can't we all be so cute and slender having that perfectly innocent smile? Oh fooey. Maybe some day I'll find a man.

January 21, 2004
So again today we had some house problems. Someone put something into the microwave which is not compatible with microwaves. It’s really one of those ridiculously stupid moments in life. But I have to wonder why EVERYTHING is going wrong in the house at the same time: all the mess with the furniture and the office, the consistent breakage of rules which leads to fines, and now the destruction of an otherwise perfectly fine microwave. We were all standing in the kitchen after the microwave blew up talking about having another house meeting and going over in detail all of the notes that decorate the walls in the common areas. It’s actually quite comical to see them all, different hand writing and fonts sprawled across each one addressing a different problem within the house. Seriously, why can’t people just follow directions?