Oh yeah, this thing

I don't really know why I abandoned this place, except that I kind of lost my drive to write anything. I developed the space as a place to post important thoughts and remembrances from my life, stuff that I could look back on in later years, but I suppose nothing of importance has really happened lately. I'm resigning myself to the thought that in less than a month I'll be back at school for my senior year. This is terrifying, not so much because it means that I'll need a job in another year, but because I have to write my senior thesis. This is very much a Big Effing Deal, and I'm very much dreading it. I have issues with writing long papers (procrastination is a huge problem), but I know I have no choice but to buck up and do it. But I will admit, it's resting heavily on my mind, along with the fact that I'm going to have a new roommate that I'm wary about.

I'm worried about finances--I've got enough to pay for school and everything, but I'm trying to cut corners since I don't have a job. I nearly bought a new pair of Nikes the other day, because I've been wearing one pair for the past two years. And by wearing, I mean wearing nearly every day. But then I realized that maybe it would be smarter to spend money on jeans, which I absolutely have to have to start school (I only have like two pairs that fit--the others are too big now), instead of buying new shoes when my old ones are still serviceable (if worn).

So, that was a completely boring update, but that's where I am right now. I still have depressive moments where I'm all, "OMG I'm 22 and don't know what to do with my life," or "OMG I'm single and will never be loved," and "OMG I'm so fat." But really, things could be much, much worse, and I know that from experience. I think about what it was like for me as a child, the constance turbulence and emotional chaos and frightening experiences, and compare that to where I am now, and I realize that I am blessed. And I'll figure things out as they come, day by day.

Going Greek

I've been gone for a while to the beach, but here I am once again. I refuse to talk about my personal life right now; there's a lot of things bothering me, things I can't bring myself to write about just yet. So, let me distract myself by blathering on about tv yet again. This week, I'm talking Greek.

The show comes on ABCFamily, and it's an underrated gem. It's unusual in that the show is entirely about college kids; most shows like to feature teenagers in high school and the tumultuous ride that entails, but Greek realizes that college kids have just as many problems and can have way more fun. This season has mostly built up a relationship between frat boy Cappie and sorority princess Casey. I'm not sure why I should want them to be together, or why they even want to be together. We've only seen them be a couple in flashbacks, and that was when they were freshmen (they're seniors now). They were together for like six months, and they were brought apart by the fact that Cappie liked to party and hang out with his brothers more than he liked being an attentive boyfriend to Casey. Three years later, and nothing has changed.

I suppose I can understand why Cappie would still have a thing for Casey--he's the only girl in which he's had a relationship (everyone else has been hookups or casual dating). Casey is also the reason that Cappie stopped being besties with Evan, the guy Casey dated for two years after dumping Cappie. Yes, you heard that right; Casey dated a guy for TWO YEARS after she dated Cappie, and yet she's STILL hung up on a guy she dated for six months. I get that Cappie appeals to Casey's funloving side, that she can be relaxed and comfortable around him. But he's a guy with no known goals in life, no plan, and hell, we don't even know his major or even his real name. Cappie could happily spend the rest of his life throwing back beers in the frat house, but Casey realizes there is more to life than college. We know she cares about her studies, that she has considered careers in law and politics. Though she may have fun with Cappie in the shortterm, eventually the same problems from their first relationship will come back to haunt them.

I'm certain my problems with this coupling will be moot, since Casey/Cappie are most likely endgame. And when they do inevitably get back together, I'll react in much the same way as I did when Kelly and Dylan ended up together on Beverly Hills 90210: with a sigh and an eye roll.

Full of GLEE

Did you watch the premiere episode of Glee last week? If not, head on over to fox.com and watch, because it is AWESOME.

There's so much to love here. Jane Lynch is fabulous as the maniacal cheerleading coach. Cory Monteith is adorable as Finn, the football player turned singer; I recognized Monteith from Kyle XY and loved his character's shout out to Sour Patch Kids. Lea Michele plays Rachel, the type A girl with an amazing voice. She tries so hard to be special, but can't find acceptance in high school (a very familiar sad story).

I'm officially kind of obsessed with this show. I've watched the pilot like five times, downloaded the show's soaring version of "Don't Stop Believing," and watched videos on youtube of behind the scenes footage. I saw Lea Michele demonstrate how to "smile with your eyes," ala Tyra Banks, and now I definitely have a girl-crush on her. Similiarly, Cory Monteith's explanation of how Glee is not a musical made me fall in love a little bit with him, too.

The only thing that sucks is having to wait until September for new episodes. I really wish Fox would push the premiere date up; right now, there's a ton of good buzz about the show, which I'm afraid will be lost by September. I'm also afraid Fox will fuck everything up with this show and drive it into the ground and/or cancel it. I suppose I'll have to wait and see. You know what I'm most looking forward to? Seeing the cast perform "Golddigger." The tiny taste of that in the promo has me longing for more, because it is made of win.

Three

Three years ago today, my beautiful nephew Nathan was born. His birth couldn't have come at a better time for me. It had been a little over a year since my mother died, and I was still sullen and depressed. Nathan's birth changed all that; he showed me that I could l let happiness into my heart, and not dwell on the sadness that haunted me. When I saw his tiny form lying in the basinet at the hospital, it was love at first sight. I am honored to have watched him grow these three years, evolving from the chubby faced baby who was wobbly on his feet to the talkative, sweet, always on-the-go little boy he is today. There is no better sound in the world than that of his giggle, and the words "I love you, Lauwie." He is my favorite person in the world, the one person who can always bring a smile to my lips and cheer me up on my saddest days.

Happy birthday, Nathan. I love you, forever and always.

And, it's over

Thoughts on season finales of my favorite shows:
House--The fact that the Cuddy/House sex was not real was predicted by me. That said, Hugh Laurie's acting sold the revelation for me. The denial, confusion, and fear etched onto his face simply broke my heart. I'm excited to see what happens to House after his stay in the institute, and what that will mean for House's career. Chase/Cameron getting married were adorable (although that must have been awkward for the actors to film, giving their personal history), despite Cameron's general emotional craziness.

Supernatural--Again, I wasn't surprised by anything in this episode--obviously, Ruby was never on Sam's side. I am greatly annoyed that the episode ended with hell opening up, and am eager to see the ramifications of Sam's actions. Also, more Castiel, please. Misha Collins is too hot not to be on my tv.

Gossip Girl--The finale mostly set up plotlines for next season, but luckily they are interesting plotlines. I've been waiting for a mention of Serena's father, and I can only imagine how Blair's face will look when she finds out Georgina is her roommate. Chuck/Blair had best not break up anytime soon, because those two belong to spend eternity deviously scheming while dressed to the nines.

One Tree Hill--They wasted the guest return by Whitey and Karen, but otherwise this was a good episode and should have been the series finale. Everyone got what they wanted--Nathan in the NBA, Lucas/Peyton got married and had their baby, Brooke found love with Julian, and even the minor characters of Chase, Mia, Mouth, and Millie ended up happy. Why should I tune in next season when all of this positive movement will inevitably be torn apart?

Heroes--So Sylar is masquerading as Nathan now. Whatever, show. With the news that Heroes will be on against Gossip Girl, House, How I Met Your Mother, and The Big Bang Theory, there is no way for met to record Heroes, too. I think I'm finally bailing from this sinking ship.

Last call

It's my last night in the dorms before I leave for home. It makes me sad to see the campus so abandoned; a majority of people have already left. For as much bitching as I do about the dorms and school in general, on the whole I really like the people here. I'm surrounded by people who are accepting of all types, which has made me feel more comfortable in my own skin. This sounds sappy, but I've learned that most people actually are nice, and extreme assholes are outliers, not the norm.

God, I don't know where all that came from. It must be because I missed my Monday night dose of House (my tv is already packed). I just need to spend some time with my favorite doctor, and I'll be back to my usual snarky self.

Finding a metaphor

I read an article on slate.com about grieving. The author described the death of her mother, and how "finding a metaphor" helped her cope with the loss. For her, her mother is the sky. I've never told anyone this before, but I always think of my mom as a bird. Not just any bird, but a bird that soars high up in the sky, gliding without beating its wings.

My mom and I always joked about a "birdy council" watching over us. It all started because my favorite stuffed animal was a bird named Puffy. I created a story for Puffy in which she was a member of the birdy council. Whenever we saw a big group of birds sitting together, that would be a meeting of the council. Since then, my mom would tell the birdy council to "watch over us."

We had other connections to birds, also. I would find bird feathers in the yard and bring them back to her. They were always so soft and delicate. After she died, I found a couple of feathers in her wallet, tucked away safely. I never realized she had kept them for so long.

Now, it seems like every time I'm out, particularly when I'm driving, I see a bird flying high above me. I'll thank my mom for keeping an eye on me and keeping me safe. Part of me thinks this is silly, but a bigger part of me likes staying connected to her in some way. I don't know what happens after death, but I want to imagine my mother flying, graceful and free.

Shady Pines, Ma

I'm late getting around to this, but rest in peace Bea Arthur. The Golden Girls was a staple in my house growing up. Many an afternoon I would come home from school and watch back to back episodes on Lifetime. I haven't gotten to see as many recently, but it's still one of my favorites shows, and I can (and do) recite quotes from all the episodes.

I know I'll be sad the next time I watch the show, since Bea and Estelle Getty have now passed. But at least I will always be able to re-watch and revel in the funny jokes, perfect comedic timing, and of course, those outrageous outfits.

The pigs are coming, the pigs are coming!

Swine flu. It's all the media has been talking about lately. I understand this could turn into a Major Deal, but right now all of the people in the U.S. are recovering. More than sixty are dead in Mexico, however, and it seems like everyone in the U.S. contracted it from Mexico. So while this flu is serious, it irritates me that the media makes it sound like we're all going to drop dead any minute now.

I haven't been south of the border, so I'm hoping I'm good. Perhaps this scare will get people to realize that good hygiene is a great defense--seriously, wash your hands. It takes thirty seconds, and it can go a long way to help keep you healthy. Also, if you get flu symptoms, go to the doctor. I know a lot people are out of work and don't have health insurance, so if a doctor is not possible, at least try to stay home and not pass your germs to everyone else.

Thus ends my PSA.

Full circle

We were talking in class today about becoming your parents, which made me think of something that happened a couple of weeks ago. I was watching after my nephew, and I had to discipline him. I found myself saying to him the very same thing my mother said to me when I was a child. As soon as it flew out of my mouth, I knew it was happening, but I was strangely calm about it. My mom was great, and did a good job balancing being my disciplinarian and my friend. There are worse people for me to turn into (namely, my father).

I feel like as I get older, I analyze my actions more and relate them to my parents. I see myself doing stupid, mean things and see scary flashes of my father. He was controlling, cruel, and an alcoholic; he's everything I don't want to be. Awhile back I had too much to drink and wound up sloppily crying, making me remember all of the times growing up that I witnessed my father doing the very same thing. I do not want to be that person.

Most of all, I wish my mom were still here. I wish I could see her reaction to me in adulthood. I'm sure she would have stories to tell me about my childhood, stories that I could tell to my nephew. And I'm sad that we never got the chance to be friends as adults, because I know we would have been close.

OMGWTFBBQ

Where the hell does the time go? It feels like I was just complaining about April Fool's Day, and now it's April 21, and I only have a few weeks of school left. I worry sometimes that I'm going to blink and find myself thirty years old.

So, I'm thinking about trying internet dating. I know, I know, there's a lot of bad fish in that very big sea. But I'm not meeting any guys at school; being a literature major, most of the guys are either gay or not my type. I don't hang out bars, so I'm not meeting guys there. I just want to have fun, and internet dating will be a new, exciting adventure even if I don't find a good guy.

I'm going to wait until school is over (May 12!) to start, though. I still have to figure out what sites I'm going to use, and anyway, I don't need the distraction right now. It's hard enough to buckle down and work right now; I've got all sorts of things I need to accomplish by Monday that I just have no motivation to do. The weather is supposed to be gorgeous and warm for the rest of the week, making me want to go outside and play rather than write a paper about Andy Warhol. These next few weeks are going to be hell, I can tell.

This is a disjointed rambling mess. I should probably stop now.

Fear factor

Every time I step onto the elevator to go up to class, I get afraid that it's going to break down and I will be stuck. I know I probably shouldn't think this way, but the elevator always makes this lurch, and then a long pause, before finally opening the doors. And according to the chart inside the elevator, it's only inspected once a year. That just does not seem like enough to me. I'm paranoid that one day I will get stuck in there, with only sticks of Doublemint gum as nourishment.

Going from the silly to the serious, I live in fear that something will happen to someone I love while we're alone. For example, I'm afraid that my sister will be driving us somewhere and suddenly pass out, leaving me to handle the car. This fear stems from what happened to my mother; I was alone in our apartment with her when she had her aneurysm. I found her unconscious and had to call 911, answer questions from the paramedics, etc. It was incredibly scary, and I'm just so afraid that something like that will happen again. For the first year after she died I would keep my cell phone at my side at all times, even taking it into the bathroom with me while I showered, just in case I needed to call for help for some reason. I've broken myself of that habit, but I'm still afraid.

I don't know that I will ever fully overcome my fears. I don't have much family, and losing my mother was hard enough. If something happened to anyone else, I honestly don't know how I could go on. Hopefully, I will never have to find out.

Tweet, tweet (or not)

I don't have a twitter. I also have no time to write anything of significance here. So, here's a list of things that would be on my twitter feed if I had one, and things that I would expand upon if I had the time.

--Currently eating peanut butter from the jar using a plastic spoon I stole from Wendy's. Classy.
--My econ teacher always writes notes on my papers that I can't read. I do, however, nod sagely as if I'm taking his advice to heart.
--I AM GOING TO COME UPSTAIRS AND HURT THE PERSON PLAYING THEIR MUSIC SO FUCKING LOUDLY.
--My suitemate has been utilizing our bathroom for over an hour. Don't know why I'm surprised; she typically wears enough makeup for three drag queens.
--Realized I'm the epitome of laziness when I decided it wasn't worth it to walk the ten feet across my dorm room to turn on the light.
--Rewatching old Gilmore Girls episodes. Rory is still an annoying twit and Luke >>>>Christopher.

Life sucks and then you die

Last night's House was incredibly disappointing to me. I had read the spoilers, I knew Kutner's suicide was coming, I know Kal Penn left to go work for Obama (which is a fantastic opportunity that he couldn't pass up), but still I'm sad. Kutner was my favorite of the newbies, bringing a light-hearted spin to an otherwise dour set of characters. I don't know why I'm going to have a reason to keep watching the show--Thirteen and Foreman are bores, Chase is barely seen, Cameron still annoys me when she shows up, House is taking forever to work things out with Cuddy, and Taub is his best when he plays off Kutner. Now that he's gone, I don't know how they'll make Taub, a guy already suffering a lot of misery, an appealing character. There has got to be something fun happening, otherwise I'll walk away from the show every week feeling as depressed as the characters do.

I suppose the point the show was trying to make was that suicide can happen without warning. Indeed, we got virtually no signs that Kutner would kill himself. But I can't help but think that the fact that were no signs was because the writers intentionally left Kutner an underdeveloped character. Ever since the newbies were added to the show, we've heard all about Thirteen's life, her sexuality, her Huntington's disease, her relationship with Foreman. With Taub, we know about his infidilities, his money problems, his struggling relationship with his wife. All we were told about Kutner is that his parents were murdered when he was a child and that he was later adopted by a loving couple. We saw that he was a funny, sweet guy, but we didn't get the chance to get inside his head. And since he killed himself, he clearly had a lot going on in his head.

So while the point that suicide is unpredictable is valid, I still maintain that it would have been better to have gotten to know Kutner, understand his point of view, see why he would have ended his life. The writers took a character that they often used as comic relief and had him kill himself with no build up, leaving his death to seem like a cheap ratings stunt rather than realistic character development. The writers didn't know what to do with Kutner, Kal Penn was leaving, and so they decided to do something sensational. Last night's episode centered on everyone's reactions to this shocking death. House and the others will be haunted by what they missed, and what they could have done differently. Ultimately, Kutner's suicide stops being about him and becomes more about everyone else's feelings. Even in death, he plays second fiddle to the rest of the characters.

This is why we rock

North Carolina wins the NCAA Championship.

Promise, delivered

American Idol was so bad tonight that I had to take a few minutes to write about it. Seriously, what's going on with this season? It's so BORING. None of the singers are consistent--if they were good last week, you can bet they're going to suck this week. I hate to say it, but I think after watching every season of this show I'm about to break up with it. No one stands out, makes me go, "wow." Let me break it down by contestant:

Anoop--Of them all, Anoop was the one I was rooting for, what with him being a Tar Heel and all. But he's made bad song choice after bad song choice. "You Were Always On My Mind" has been his best performance, everything else was ho-hum. Tonight he did "Caught Up" by Usher. Of all the Usher songs, THAT'S the one he chose? Whatever.
Kris--He is sweetly adorable, and his singing and guitar playing go great together. When he sings, I enjoy it, but five minutes later I've forgotten it. It's the type of music I would listen to idly on the radio, but never download.
Megan--Sweet baby Jesus, she sucks. Why did the judges make her a wildcard? She's never in tune, she dances weirdly, and she always looks as if she's going to start laughing mid-song.
Matt--The judges are trying to sell him as a sexy Justin Timberlake type, but I'm not buying it. He's not charismatic, and I don't find him attractive at all. Vocally, he's alright, but certainly nothing special.
Scott--Let's get real here: Scott is an average singer who has made it this far because he has got the nice-guy-who's-overcoming-a-disability factor. And good lord, what did they do to his hair tonight? He looked like Jerry Seinfeld circa 1995. That's just not right.
Lil--Good singer, but very boring. Bad song choices ("Independence Day") may be the death of her.
Allison--She acts like she's trying to be Pink's little sister. She's had her moments where she's shone, but not enough for me to consistently pick up the phone and vote for her.
Danny--He can take his fake sensitive, inspirational, humble, "aw, golly gee!" schtick and shove it where the sun don't shine.

I feel so much better now that I've gotten that off my chest. Really, I think it's better if I break up with the show now. I gave this show a chance, but not even the memories of the good old days (oh, Kelly Clarkson) can make me stick around.

I'm writing, just not here

I hate that I haven't gotten to write here as much as I used to. I started this blog as a place to just track my thoughts on every day shit, because it's so much more convenient to type it than it is to write it down. Plus, this way I have a permanent record of sorts. But if I were to write down my thoughts on every day shit right now, it would not be pretty. "Oh shit, I've got to finish this paper by tomorrow. Fuck, then I have another paper due the next day! And I've got to study for a test and register for classes! FUCK FUCK FUCK." You get the picture.

I really wish I could spend more time writing about trivial shit than about the economy, ancient Greek literature, and whatever play we're currently reading in my drama class. But alas, I actually get graded for those assignments, so they take precedence over writing here. I hope that things will be better next week--I don't think I have anything big due (God, I better check). But the later part of April (how are we already four months into the year? Where did that time go?) will probably be wild, what with preparing for finals and all.

So hopefully, soon, I'll get back to a regular posting schedule, because I really need to tell the world my thoughts on vital subjects such as American Idol.

I'm gonna stick around, thanks

This week, current resident students are signing up for rooms for next year. I've opted to stay put in the room that I'm in now. It's in a good location, quiet hall, nice view, I like it. I still don't know where my roommate is going to end up next year. This sounds awful, but I rarely talk to her. She's almost never here when I am, and mostly she just wakes me up in the middle of the night when she comes in late. So whatever, I don't care if she rooms with me again or someone else.

But last night, I heard a timid knock on my door. I was watching House and didn't want to be bothered, so I just ignored it (I have priorities, people). But a few seconds later, I heard another knock. I figured they could probably hear my TV and the jig was up, so I answered it. It was a couple of girls that I recognized, who live down the hall from me, that I've never spoken to. Shyly, one of them asked me if I was going to be living in this room next year. Of course I said yeah, and they just kind of awkwardly kept standing there, smiling. So not knowing what to do, I followed that up with a, "Sorry..." and they turned and left. It was weird. I don't know why my room would be any more special than the one they're currently in, but whatever. I turned in my application, this room is mine, get over it.

While I'm on the subject of knocking, let me just say that my roommate has one friend that always knocks on the door and then opens it and comes right in. This pisses me right the fuck off; not only is it an invasion of my privacy and rude, but, you know, I just explained that I often avoid answering the door when I don't feel like dealing with people. Earlier tonight, someone knocked on the door, and I heard what sounded like a hand starting to open the door. It was, of course, RudeGirl. I opened the door, not her, because apparently she's learned that I'm not fond of her marching on in. Maybe I've been giving out bitch vibes, I don't know. She's lucky I haven't just taken to keeping the door locked at all times.

Ah, dorm life. You may be annoying, but at least you give me plenty of things to write about.

Fluff and stuff

In September, I will have had my cat Cole for seven years. That's the longest relationship I've ever had with a pet, and although we've been together long enough to know each other pretty well, he still surprises me. Cole's a petite little thing (7.5 pounds), solid gray, extremely furry with the fluffiest tail you've ever seen. But to be so delicate, he is one fierce fucker. He used to take out his aggressions on me; I'd walk through a room, and he'd come flying out of the corner, throwing himself at my legs. These were not happy times. When I moved in with my sister and her two cats, he learned to play-fight them, not me, and since then he's never attacked me.

But Saturday, that all changed. He was sitting on the back of the couch, I was petting his head, telling him what a pretty and good kitty he is, yes he is, when *bam*! He reaches out and claws my right hand, leaving three ugly red scratches across my knuckles. I immediately called him an asshole and we kept our distance for awhile. I don't know what caused that sort of behavior, but I do not appreciate it.

I hate it when cats get a bad rap for not being loyal, however. Cole is usually sitting outside my door when I wake up in the morning (and it's not because he's waiting on food--we have an automatic food dispenser). When I'm home, he lays on the bed with me, follows me around the house, and likes to curl up with me on the couch. He knows when I'm upset and crying and will come to comfort me. He will always come when I call him. He's smart, attentive, and sweet, and he's the best cat I've ever had.

Cole is an indoor cat, which is why I've had him longer than any other cat. All my other cats have been outdoors, and have either disappeared or been hit by cars. With Cole, he's going to live for many years to come. This is a good thing, of course, except for the fact that I don't know how to deal with an old and dying cat. It will break my heart to eventually have to say goodbye to him. In just seven years, we've lived in two houses and two apartments, made the move from living with my parents, to just my mom, to my sister and brother-in-law and my nephew. Who knows what else we'll go through together in the coming years. Whatever happens, I know I'll have my gray fuzzball companion at my side.

Whatever, leprechauns

Happy St. Patrick's Day. This day means absolutely nothing to me, but every year I get peer pressured to don kelly green. I have exactly one green shirt, and luckily it was warm enough to wear it today. I have never seen so much green as I saw on my classmates earlier. We all looked like children of the Jolly Green Giant.

I can't even use this day as an excuse to drink, because I have a nine o'clock class tomorrow. In fact, I'm going to spend my evening reading a play and watching American Idol. Hopefully that show won't shove this holiday in my face, even though Seacrest would make an adorable green leprechaun.

One channel that I will be avoiding is QVC. My obsession with QVC may be a little weird, especially since I don't usually buy anything, but for years now I will put it on in the background while I'm doing other work. I know all about the hosts, about the five easy pay system, and about the special programs they do periodically. On St. Patrick's Day, it's all Irish, all day long. Which means it's 24 hours of selling, like, claddagh rings. BORING. What would liven it up would be to have the hosts knocking back pints of Guinness while presenting the items, but somehow I doubt that idea would ever come to fruition.

So have a good day, whether you're kissing the Blarney Stone, or waiting, as I am, for it to be March 18th.

I need a fucking silver lining

I haven't written much lately for a combination of reasons. Mostly, I've been feeling depressed and inadequate. Like, I feel like a failure at everything, these bad thoughts float around in my head over and over again, and eventually I collapse into tears. It's really pathetic how I let myself get caught up in this cycle, because I hate how I act when I get this way. So, in order to counteract this condition, I'm making a list of all of the things in my life that do not suck. Hopefully, this will put me in the right mindset to come out of this funk I'm in.

1. I have enough money to survive on until the summer, when hopefully I'll get a job.
2. I'm accomplishing at least one thing off of my to-do list everyday instead of procrastinating. Avoidance only makes my problems worse, not better.
3. I'm in relatively good health.
4. I enjoy 3/4 of my classes; only one class makes me want to poke my eyeballs out with a fork, but I'm going to do my best to suffer through it for the rest of the semester.
5. My nephew is the sweetest thing ever and always makes me smile.
6. My car is in great working order and will be paid off in another year.
7. I got my eyebrows waxed today, and they look incredible.
8. Gossip Girl comes back on Monday. Oh Chuck Bass, never leave me.

Stopping the silence

It's been a struggle for me to read about Chris Brown allegedly beating Rihanna. All over the internet, I hear people calling her stupid for going back to him, saying that she deserves whatever he gives her. And that's not cool. It is never okay to blame the victim.

My mother was married to my father for thirty years. He was abusive to her. The physical violence didn't occur often, but it was enough. When he wasn't physically abusing her, he was emotionally abusive. He criticized her weight, her intelligence, controlled where she went and what she did. He broke her self-esteem and made her feel like she was useless, even though she was a popular, well-respected teacher. We tried to leave him when I was about ten, and he threatened to kill her parents. So we came back.

She knew what he was doing was wrong, but she was so scared. This was a man she loved, that she had built a life with, that she had two children with. She was terrified that if she left, he would get shared custody of me, and she wouldn't leave me alone with him. She had a loving, supportive family that she could have gone to for help, but she didn't, because she was scared. She was ashamed to admit to everyone that her family was broken. People like to say that victims should just up and leave their abusers, but it's just not that simple. Anyone who thinks it is has never been in the situation.

When I was seventeen, we packed up and moved out, serving my father with a restraining order. That night, he showed up drunk, with guns, on my sister's doorstep. Luckily, she and her husband were there and called the police. My father was in jail for six weeks. That was the last time I saw him. It's been nearly five years.

My mother died eight months after we left my father. She only had eight months of freedom, but I'm grateful that she finally found the strength to leave my father and got to be free of him for her last days on earth. Most important to her was that she got me out of the situation. I'll never forget all that she did to keep me safe.

All of this is to show that abusive situations are incredibly difficult to navigate. Rihanna, hopefully, will learn that she can find the courage to walk away. People on the internet like to cry, "But Chris Brown seems so sweet! He's so charming!" That's the same thing people say about my father; even now, people are incredulous when they learn of his abuse. Abusers come in all shapes and forms, just as victims do. No one is exempt. That's why we need to stop the silence and TALK about domestic violence. It can happen to anyone. And Rihanna needs to know that she has nothing to be ashamed of, because she has done nothing wrong. She deserves respect and support, not condescending derision. She may be a victim of domestic violence, but she can also be a survivor.

Thunder snow

Winter came back to bite me in the ass Sunday, as we had a snowfall that canceled classes all across the region. We only got about three inches at my house, which was promptly all melted by that afternoon. But Nathan got to go out in it and play, which was a lot of fun.

Sunday night, as we were waiting for the snow to begin, we had thunder. Apparently thunder snow is a rare occurrence, so it was cool to witness. But Nathan freaked out from the thunder, and so Alli and I got in bed with him for a while to reassure him. As he was leaning into Alli, he had one hand pressed up against my arm, and he just kept staring at me. "I love you, Laura," he said. It was incredibly sweet; normally when he tells me he loves me, it's because I've said it to him first. But this was unprompted, and so serious. He's a precious boy, and I'm glad we got to share the snow with each other.

Duck, duck, goose

I have a few hours to kill before I go to class. It's not my favorite class for many reasons (boring subject, boring teacher, boring teacher that always takes attendance so it's impossible to skip without notice, etc). But one thing that really bothers me is the fact that we sit in a circle.

If we sit in rows, I'm just staring at the back of the head of the person in front of me. But in a circle, I start seeing more things. I'll notice how one girl has an adorable purse, another girl has cute shoes, and then I start thinking about shopping and stop paying attention to the discussion about Greek mythology.

Plus, I just feel all self-conscious, like everyone is looking at me. And then I start singing (in my head) Britney's "Circus." All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus... And if you think I'm going to stop singing in order to listen to the talk about various gods and goddesses, you're wrong.

Stop it, already

I hate the word "hubby." Haaate. "Hubby" is the same number of syllables as "husband," therefore shortening the word is pointless. "Hubby" sounds like something a thirteen year old would say. ("My hubby sent me a note asking me if I loved him, I'm going to check yes!") This word irritates me so much I involuntarily tense and roll my eyes whenever someone says it (which can be bad if I'm in public). So please, stop it, already.

Also, stop using "preggers." Say it with me, now: "pregnant." You know, that condition a woman is in when she's growing another person inside of her, the person that she's going to be responsible for raising to be a respectable adult. Step one in that process is embracing the word "pregnant."

And finally, don't use "vacay," ever. I know this text-messaging world we live in has promoted abbreviations, but if you're speaking to me, take the extra split second to say the word properly, please. Because if you don't, I can promise you my reaction won't be pretty.

Let's talk turkey

Food. Chips, chocolates, cheese, I'm hungry for it all. Why, I don't know. I haven't been exercising more, so I haven't been burning extra calories. Yet I still feel the need to stuff my face. I have been trying to cut back on my sugar intake. Everyday as I buy my lunch I pass the rows of candy with a look of longing. You don't know how bad I want to run across campus and buy some damn M&Ms.

Have you seen the Weight Watchers commercial with the furry little Hunger creature? He comes around, offering women pizza and doughnuts, only to be rebuffed. I'm here to say that Hunger can come hang with me if he's going to bring shit like pizza with him. If I can get him to pick up a six pack of beer, too, we're definitely good.

And what about those commercials that claim that chewing gum can curb your hunger cravings? Yeah, total bullshit. I've been chewing Doublemint like there's no tomorrow, and my belly still rumbles in protest. In fact, it's rumbling right now. So, excuse me, I have to go find something to munch on.

What happens when the internet is down

We've been having crazy issues with the internet for the past week. The worst was last Tuesday when it was down for nearly 24 hours. I was so bored, I actually played Spider Solitaire. I still kick ass at that game, by the way. Also, I wrote a song. I actually do this quite often--make up silly lyrics to the tune of popular songs. This one is to the tune of Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone"

here's the thing, you started out fast
should've known it would never last
yeah yeah, since u been gone

i was dedicated, i took my time
but it wasn't long til i called you mine
yeah yeah, since u been gone

and all you'd ever hear me say, was how you were my favorite thing
that's all you'd ever hear me say

but since you've been gone,
i can read for the first time,
my homework is done, yeah, yeah
thanks to you, i will get, i'll get a good grade
since u been gone

how can i put, you turned me on
to a world of blogs and downloading songs,
yeah yeah, since u been gone

how come no one has fixed you yet?
i guess they just don't know
without you, days go by so slow

but since you've been gone,
i can read for the first time,
my homework is done, yeah, yeah
thanks to you, i will get, i'll get a good grade
since u been gone

i gave it a chance, i blew it
out of sight, not out of mind
please come back, i need to check my email
again and again and again

but since you've been gone,
i can read for the first time
my homework is done, yeah yeah
but i'm bored, very bored,
you should know, that i'm bored
since u been gone
since u been gone

I believe in yesterday

My mother has been dead for four years. I never quite know how to handle the anniversary of her death. My sister gets moody, sometimes just on the twelve of any month, not just February. But I don't understand why I should get mad or upset on that day. Every day I feel the weight of her death; it's never off my shoulders. I don't want to focus on the day that she spent in a hospital bed, brain dead, unable to breathe on her own. I want to remember how she lived her life, not how it ended.

I remember warm summer days when we would have marathon Monopoly games. Later, we'd go out in our pool, and I would perform tricks while she would pretend to be a judge scoring my moves. I remember cooking with her in the kitchen; she baked biscuits, and I would always use the cutter to form perfect round shapes. She would let me have the leftover dough to play with, and I created little biscuit faces to cook. As I got older, I got to really cook, and with her guidance baked pies and cakes. I remember being unable to sleep in the middle of the night, and how she sat with me and we talked until I was finally able to sleep. I remember the familiar game we would play: "Do you love me?" I would ask. "With all my heart and soul," she always replied.

I miss her more than I will ever be able to express. But I know that she's not really gone; she will always live on through me. I see the brown in my hazel eyes, and I know that is from her. I look at my hands and know that hers looked so much like mine, large and full, yet delicate. When I'm babysitting Nathan and I feel my patience wearing thin, I find a resolve to work through it, and that patience is undoubtedly inherited from her. She is here, in every breath I take.

My mother was the strongest, most incredible woman, and I can only hope that I can grow up to be like her. I often wonder what I would be like now, if she were still here to guide me to being a better adult. But I know I'll never have those answers. I can only be grateful that I had eighteen years to get to know her, and have eighteen years of memories to hold on to tightly now that I can no longer hold on to her.

Oh, the problems of womanhood

I think when other girls were learning how to apply eyeshadow and foundation, I was busy learning about double dribbling and offensive rebounds. This is the only explanation as to how I, at the age of 22, still have problems applying makeup properly.

I guess technically this could be blamed on my mom. Growing up, the only makeup I saw her wear was blush, mascara, and lipstick. Who knows if she ever wore more makeup than this, or if this was the regimen she had time for as a busy mother of two with a full-time job. But her philosophy of makeup is the one I subscribe to--just the basics, please.

It's always worrying for me as I put on eyeshadow that I'm putting on too much, or the colors won't match, or whatever. I wind up debating in my head, "Does this purple eyeshadow look pretty, or like I've been punched?" Seriously, I think about this way more than I should. Ultimately, though, I put my worries behind me. I'm 22 years old: there's going to be no better time in my life to wear purple eyeshadow, so I might as well seize the day.

Really? REALLY?

My neighbors have blasted Meredith Brook's "Bitch" three times in a row. I really want to tell them that it's not 1997 anymore.

How come I can remember all the lyrics to this song, one that I haven't heard in ages, and yet I can't remember facts from my classes? You know, the stuff I actually need to know in order to graduate? I wish I could major in Useless Pop Culture Trivia.

I enjoy the taste of crow

Mother nature decided to prove me wrong by dumping snow on us last night, causing classes to be canceled today. I'm thrilled to have the time to stay in and relax, especially since it's incredibly cold out right now. Also, my teacher pushed back the due date to our paper from Monday to Wednesday, which is a huge weight off my mind.

Last night everyone was pretty much operating on the assumption that we wouldn't have classes today. By midnight my roommate was going to work on an art project, and I was in bed watching Friends. I figured at 12:30 I should start trying to go to sleep, but it was hard because of my suitemates. The sound of their talking was carrying through their closed door, through the bathroom, and through my closed door. They are the loudest talkers I've ever encountered. The only way I could block out their noise enough to go to sleep was when the heat came on.

I woke up around 5:30 and realized my roommate was in the room asleep. This means I did not wake up when she came in the room, so I'm glad it was her coming in and not a rapist or robber. By 7:30 I had woken up and called the school's snowline to see if we had classes. Upon hearing they were canceled, I muttered a "thank God," and rolled back over for some more sleep.

Bitch bitch bitch

I take back what I said in my last entry. Dammit, I want to bitch, and here's a good place to do it.

My roommate's not here right now, but that didn't stop one of her friends from knocking on the door and then coming in two seconds later. It's a good thing I wasn't naked or anything. I believe that what she did was totally rude unless she knew that my roommate was here to receive her. You don't just walk into someone's room without permission, especially when that person has a roommate!

And I'm mad as hell about the weather. We've had lots of snow showers, but they've amounted to exactly jack shit. If the snow's not going to lay and get me out of class, then it can just go the fuck away. Fuck this late start schedule bullshit. Either cancel classes or have them on regular schedule.

As I'm typing this, my suitemate and her friend are in the bathroom talking about how they can't find anyone to supply them acid right now. Oh, boo hoo! My heart breaks for you! It's just so hard to find good help in the drug trade these days.

Now that I've written all of this out, I feel much better. Behold, the power of bitching.

If you don't have anything nice to say...

I'm feeling very down in in the dumps today. I'm not sure why. I had fun last night watching the Super Bowl with friends, and I was pulling for the Steelers, so I'm happy they won. But today, I'm just...blah.

It could be hormones. It could be the weather (rainy and chilly). It could be that it's February, which means it's been four years since my mother died. I don't know. I do know that all I want to do is sit here and eat junk food and do nothing for the rest of the day, but unfortunately I have to haul my ass to economics this afternoon. That class always seems to last SO LONG. And we're getting back reports today, which I think I probably didn't do so well on.

Since I can't come up with anything remotely positive to say, I'm not going to say anything at all.

Arguing with myself

Look, I've been out of high school nearly four years. I'm going to graduate from college a year late because of a combination of reasons (not all my credits transferred, my school has an insane liberal arts load that I must complete, etc). And I've found peace in that. I would have had to kill myself to graduate just a semester late, so stretching it out into another year will do a lot for my peace of mind. I can find a part-time job while I take classes and save money and take time to figure out job options for when I'm graduated. I feel like this is the best decision I can make.

And yet, I feel like a failure. I see so many people I went to high school with who are already married and/or have kids, and who have decent jobs and their own houses. And I feel like a loser for being single and childless, devoid of any job prospects at the moment, and I'm definitely not moving out on my own any time soon. I know I shouldn't compare myself to other people, because what works for them may not work for me. Even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't want to get married before I finished school. I'm DEFINITELY not prepared to be a mother right now. And I'm saving money by living with my sister when I'm not in the dorms.

I guess I'm just afraid that I'll run into people I haven't seen in years, and they'll judge me for all of the above. And I KNOW that feeling insecure by people I went to high school with is something that I should have left behind in high school. But knowing this and convincing myself to believe this are two different things.

God, writing this all out makes it seem so trivial! I'm 22! If you had asked me five years ago where I would be now, I would have been completely wrong. Who's to say where I'll be when I'm 27? Or 37 or 47? I will (hopefully) have many more years of life left. In the long run, is it going to matter that I graduated college at 23 instead of 22? I doubt it. As for marriage and kids, I may never get there, but that doesn't mean I won't be happy. I'll find a path that's right for me, even if it's different from everyone else around me, even if it takes some time.

Hold your own damn elevator

When I arrived at my night class, I decided I would take the elevator up to class. See, the building is a long way from my dorm, it's up a steep hill, and I'm out of shape, so I was too out of breath to climb the two flights of steps. I stood in the hall and waited for the elevator to come, and as the doors opened, a girl came around and asked me to hold the elevator. "My friend's coming," she explained, so I awkwardly stood in the elevator holding it open. We waited and waited, me in the elevator, she outside, apparently able to see her friend but unable to explain what was taking her so long. Finally, another person came to climb on the elevator, and she relented. "You can go on, we'll catch it the next time," she said.

Great, so I've been standing there holding the door for no reason. That's just peachy. I need to get in better shape so I can climb the stairs and not have to deal with this elevator etiquette nonsense.

20 things you may not know about me

1. I like to dip potato chips in ketchup.
2. I can burp louder than anyone I know.
3. My toenails are always painted.
4. One regret I have is quitting playing the trumpet in high school. I wish I could pick it up again.
5. I'm a loner, and I used to think that was a bad thing, but really, I'm happiest when I'm alone.
6. Despite that, I would like a guy I could share my life with, but I worry I'll never find him.
7. When I find a song I like, I listen to it on loop.
8. I haven't seen or spoken to my father in nearly five years, and I don't miss him at all.
9. I google people I went to high school to see where they are now.
10. I worry that I'm not becoming the woman my mother wanted me to be.
11. I'm afraid that sometimes my sister resents me, and is happy when I'm not around.
12. I spend way too much time worrying about what other people think of me.
13. My class ring is the only piece of jewelry I wear every day. I feel naked leaving the house without it on my finger.
14. When I go to a familiar restaurant I order the same thing every time, because I'm afraid if I try something new, I'll be disappointed, so I might as well stick with what I know is good.
15. I've never dyed my hair, even though it already has gray in it.
16. I've never broken a bone or been in the hospital as a patient (except for when I was born, of course).
17. I like to rehearse important conversations in my head so that I'll be prepared and hopefully not come across as an idiot.
18. I feel like I'm not really good at anything.
19. I'm not religious and I resent it when people try to foist their religion onto me.
20. I work my thoughts out by writing, which is why I started this blog.

Two Very Important Things

First, happy birthday Alli. 32 years ago our mother was in labor with you as Jimmy Carter was inaugurated as president. I'm sorry she wasn't here today for your birthday and for the inauguration of Barack Obama.

Barack Hussein Obama is our president. Words really can't describe how I feel about this. I was in eighth grade, 14 years old, when Bush became president, and over the next eight years I changed so much. I became an adult, a real woman with political opinions, and they were shaped during the Bush administration. Bush leaving office feels like an end of an era not just for the country, but for me personally. But I'm excited about the future with Obama. I had a hand in his election, donating money to his campaign and voting for him, and I'm ready to see him as president. I'm ready to find out what changes he can bring for the nation, and I'm ready to see how I change over the course of his presidency.

Let it snow (please)

Where I live, we don't get snow that often. Even at school in the mountains we haven't gotten a substantial snowfall in a year. But there's a good chance of snow tonight for home and at school, and I'm praying that it happens.

I'm trying not to be too optimistic, however, because I've had my hopes up plenty of times in the past and been burned. As a kid, whenever there was snow predicted I would get up in the middle of the night, scurry down the hallway and peek out the onto the back deck, hoping to see snow. Nine times out of ten I would be disappointed, and would head back to bed with a heavy heart, knowing that I would have to get up for school in the morning. But on some magical occasions, I would be greeted with the sight of fluffy blankets of snow.

I'm fully expecting this snow prediction to be a bust, and I'll head back to school tomorrow (I'm home for Martin Luther King day) and the week will proceed as normal. But some part of me can't help but hold onto a tiny sliver of hope, that maybe, just maybe, we'll be lucky this time.

Pink or Blue--Does It Matter?

There was an article on Jezebel recently about the color pink and its ties to femininity. Reading through the comments was interesting, with some people absolutely hating pink and others embracing it. Does the environment that a person grows up in influence their color preference? I decided to analyze my sister and myself, since after all, we did grow up in the same house with the same parents.

My favorite color is pink (I mean, duh, just look at this blog). When I was little my parents told my sister and me that we could pick the color of carpet to go in our bedrooms; I chose pink, Alli chose blue. Our favorite colors haven't changed since we were small. Pink is traditionally associated with girly behavior (think Elle Woods in Legally Blond) and blue is deemed the appropriate color for boys since birth. Yet in my situation, I'd say that my blue loving sister is the more feminine.

I do like girly stuff such as having my nails painted and wearing perfume, and I put on make up when I have the time (that is, when I'm not in a hurry running to class). But generally I live in my jeans and Nikes, and I never do much to my hair besides throwing a headband on. Alli is the girl who spends plenty of time in front of a mirror every morning putting on her face and fixing her hair just so, and has a closetful of fancy shoes. We're different in other ways, too. I realized a big difference between us this past weekend when she was in one room watching Cold Mountain and I was in the other watching the NFL playoffs. She walked through the room when I was cheering the Giants because they got a safety, and I had to explain to her what that even meant.

Really, I think your favorite color isn't important. Just because I'm a girl who loves pink doesn't mean I can't hang with the boys, drinking beer and watching football. The concept of pink=girls and blue=boys is pretty useless, I'd say.

BSC Friends Forever

Friends Forever was the updated version of the Baby-Sitters Club. It had the same characters (the core four of Kristy, Mary Anne, Claudia and Stacey) with less baby-sitting and more modern notations (the characters have cellphones and email). I guess the publishers wanted to keep the familiar characters yet tweak them and take them in a more mature direction; thank GOD there are very few baby-sitting chapters, because those got so tedious and annoying. The girls actually act like thirteen year olds really do, which is ironically the drawback of this series--they are STILL thirteen and in eighth grade. I think this series would have been more satisfying if they had started off as freshmen in high school. It just makes NO SENSE to repeatedly acknowledge things that happened earlier in the BSC series (in which they were eighth graders) and yet have them again start eighth grade.

The themes in this new series seem to fit so much more with a high school setting, which is why it's puzzling to me that they weren't in ninth grade. They've scaled back the baby-sitting club, so Kristy has to deal with not being a dictator; Claudia and Stacey have a huge fight over a boy; Mary Anne breaks up with Logan and tries to strike out as a new, independent girl. Old friends like Mallory and Jessi are really only mentioned in passing, which would fit with high school, since they are two grades behind the other girls. From personal experience, high school is the place where old friendships either end or are re-formed, as new people come into play.

Did the publishers think that the girls who are reading about eight graders wouldn't buy books about freshmen in high school? I kind of doubt that would happen. In fact, I would say that the reason Friends Forever was unsuccessful was because there was no progression in the time line. The fact that these girls are perpetually thirteen begins to grate on the reader after a while. Plus, I think there really should be books about freshmen; it's a brand new, exciting, confusing time, and most books (and television shows) skip right over it to when the kids are older, like juniors or seniors.

Maybe this whole post is just telling me that I need to write a young adult series about freshmen. It's something to consider....

A look inside my crazy head

Nathan watched The Wizard of Oz a while back, and that may have been a bad thing, because now he always asks where the Wicked Witch is. He especially gets worried right before bed time, and we have to assure him that the witch is not real and no one can hurt him. I guess I had that on the brain last night as I fell asleep, because I dreamed about killing the Wicked Witch.

She didn't look exactly like the witch in the movie, but she was a witch, and she lived in a tree house full of secret passages. I thought I would have to kill her by cutting her head off with a sword, but finally I used a spell. I separated my shadow from my body, and my shadow held the witch down while I strangled her. She burst into dust, and I burned the tree house down to make sure she was really dead.

This dream just proves to me that I have learned a lot from supernatural television shows. The body turned to dust, just like on Buffy the Vampire Slayer; the shadow separation was probably inspired by a Doctor Who episode I watched recently; and I burned the witch's remains and house down, just like Sam and Dean would do on Supernatural. Who says television isn't educational?

The Big O Has Landed

The dealership came through with a good price, so we have an Odyssey now. I must admit, it's pretty sweet. I'm in love with the fact that I can control the temperature of the back seat, plus there's all sorts of storage space that will be useful, especially on long trips. The seats are super comfortable, too. And it has that new car smell that I love so much.

As cool as it is on the inside, it's still got a remarkably uncool exterior. Luckily it comes with built in sun screens that I can pull down so no one can recognize me.

How I Learned to Stop Bitching and Love the Van

My sister and her husband have been talking for awhile about getting a new, bigger car with a third row of seats. They've decided they like the Honda Odyssey, which is a van. I cringed when I heard this news, because hello, it's a minivan, and minivans are decidedly uncool. It also seemed like an unnecessary purchase to me; we rarely go anywhere where we would need extra seats to fit more people. But then I began to think; they're talking about trying to have another baby in the next couple of years, and if they're successful, they'll have two car seats in the back, with no room for me. So if I ever want to travel anywhere with them again, I'll either have to drive my own car, or they'll have to get a bigger car. So I'm supporting their choice to get a van because it will benefit me, and I'm supremely selfish.

It's not set in stone that they'll get the van anytime soon. They're still talking to the Honda dealership about what kind of finance rates they can get and all that jazz, and they may wait a while or look into an older model. But they're definitely interested in buying. I've heard that the Odyssey (I'm not calling it a van anymore, it just sounds too lame) has some cool features like a temperature control in the backseat, which means no more complaining to them to turn the damn heat up. It also has a really powerful engine. The Big O (that's a proper nickname, don't you think?) may actually be fun to ride in. I'll keep you posted as we proceed in talks with the dealership.