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.