Almost Over

For some reason I’m watching news from Newfoundland. I think it’s one and a half hours ahead of where I’m at. Weird eh? There’s my Canadian moment. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll be up much longer. I am totally pooped. I handed in four papers today. To be honest, I doubt I’ll ever see them again. I’ll be surprised if my prof actually manages to read all of them.

Anyway, stories from the past few days. I met a cab driver who seemed intent on telling me his death story. No that’s not a typo. He was on the operating table for emergency intestinal surgery and said he saw his body on the table and all of a sudden, he was in another place. He started shouting that he wasn’t supposed to be there and eventually, a woman’s voice called to him. She led him out and back to his body. Before the doctors finished his surgery, he went back to that same place, still angrily shouting that he didn’t belong there. This time, he was able to find his own way out. He told me he was running but he was never out of breath. When he woke up later in his hospital room, the doctors told him that he had in fact died twice on the table. Creepy isn’t it? I was talking to my parents over supper and my mom knows this guy. Apparently he wasn’t pulling my leg because he told her the same story. She knew who I was talking about before I said very much about it.

Yesterday I was almost run over by a transport. People in my town apparently can’t drive. I was crossing a highway, the light turned green for the traffic that could kill me. I was about three feet from the sidewalk and right in front of this massive transport when it started rolling. Asshole. When I was crossing farther down that same road, I was almost hit again. I swear I could make a living out of almost being hit by cars.

Today I was given a superhuman power by a friend in the WC. I was given the lesbian power of conversion. I personally don’t believe I’m charming or persistent enough to “convert” anyone. Besides, that’s got nothing to do with me... that’s all someone else. Know what I’m saying? I’m not a recruiter! That’s more of an inside joke... sorry.

And in response to my post from two days ago, I did read the email. It took me a minute to settle down, but after that I made up my mind fairly quickly on what to do about it. I’m not going to respond. I want this to end so I’m ending it.

I think that’s pretty much it. The last few days have been insane and I’m glad they’re over. Tomorrow is my last class in third year. So excited! I get two weeks off before my first exam so I’ve got time to catch up on my reading. And sanity of course...

Lauren.

Cave Lauren

For the sake of what's left of my sanity right now, this post will be written in the manner of a cave woman.

Lauren sleepy. Work all day. School, fascism paper, work. Come home from work, work on papers more. All due tomorrow. Title pages and references and proof reading required. Stab in face. Now 1:15 and Lauren still awake. Computer being stupid. Lauren try to go fast, brain make her go slow. ANGER! Lauren is finished now. Bathing time. Tomorrow will print and hand in. Tomorrow happy day. Today not so happy. Grrrrr! Did get three bowls of ice cream at work... small bowls, half scoops, Lauren not that greedy. Lauren also forced to eat by happy bosses. All beside point. Lauren going to bed now.

I'll be more coherent tomorrow. My apologies.
(Maggie sits in closet sobbing at the poor grammar and sentence structure)

Cavewoman posing as Lauren

Not a Happy Post

Sometimes, I believe entire events and days can be summed up in one sentence. That sentence is: What the Hell? If there is such a thing as a question of the day, this is it for me.

I haven’t mentioned this, at least I don’t think I have, but it’s a very difficult subject for me to handle. I’ve been reluctant to talk about it because it is so personal and it’s not only my story. Here it is in a very general nutshell. I have a lot of boundaries which are excellent at keeping people out. The more I get to know someone, the more I grow to trust someone, the more I let them in. It must seem like I have no secrets because of how open I am, but I do and there are sides of me that few people get to see. So when I was sixteen and finally came to call someone my best friend, that was a big deal. She managed, however she managed, to get through all the walls and boundaries and obstacles I put up. I loved her. And that is not something I say to many people, fewer and fewer as I get older. Not even family members anymore. Except my grandma.

Anyway, a while ago, we got back in touch and we were very different people. I’d changed so much and I could still see bits of her, but not the her that I knew or the her that I loved. I was so happy that we’d done all of this over email and the phone because I don’t think I could have handled seeing her. It hurt. So much. And I cried for a day and was depressed for a few weeks. Just from the phone call... imagine what would have happened if we’d met somewhere. I emailed her a final email, saying goodbye, saying that we were too different, that I didn’t know her and I didn’t want to have anything to do with the person she’d become. I was both surprised and proud of myself for not only writing it, but sending it.

Tonight, after a not so stupendous day, I saw that she’d emailed me. Since I saw that email three hours ago, I’ve been debating whether or not I want to open it. My better instincts are telling me to leave it, ignore it. But... everything else wants me to open it. By the time the majority of you who would kindly give me advice will read this, I can almost guarantee that I’ll have opened it.

Thankfully Veronica is standing by as is my other friend Linda. So... maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to write something else on this topic. Until then... it’s a cliffhanger for everyone. At this point, even me.

And if this particular girl is reading this blog entry, I would like her to read it carefully and consider what I’ve written. Because if I do write back or if I don’t, you’ll know why. No one has hurt me the way you have.

Lauren.

The Battle of P

In honour of today I have created a new superhero. Bet you thought I forgot about that didn’t you? Well, it has been a while so I’ll jog your memory. Everyone remember Princess Procrastination? If not, the name is self explanatory. She fights crime in her own time and her weapon of choice is shrimp. So... Princess Procrastination was attacked today. She got her ass handed to her on a silver platter. Which explains why my ass is numb. I’ve been sitting on the living room floor (on a pillow) all day, working on essays.

In case you need reminding, this is Princess Procrastination.
http://marvel.com/create_your_own_superhero/809581/name/Joe/hero/Princess%20P
She was late so she accidentally grabbed two different shoes.

This morning I was at 3 of 8 essays complete. Tonight, as of nine o’clock, I am at 6 of 8. Yeah... three friggin’ essays in one day. One is four pages, the other six and the last, two. Stab me in the face. (There’s another expression I use).

So, who kicked Princess Procrastination’s ass so decidedly? Her twin! Dun dun dun! Princess Productivity! Note the business suit. The torch is because she burns through work. I actually wanted a shovel but they didn’t have one in available weapons. What the hell says I? Have they not seen Mystery Men? The Shoveller? Hello, Marvel Comics? I demand a shovel app! I suppose the torch is... more effective?

This is Princess Procrastination's sister, Princess Productivity.
http://marvel.com/create_your_own_superhero/1004761/name/Chris/hero/Princess%20Productive
She bears no resemblance to me at all... unfortunately... although I do have a similar jacket...

I’m rather exhausted and I have a serious brain headache. You may also be asking, “WTF Lauren, have you not heard of taking a break?” Well dear readers, I have heard of it but given my lack of productivity at the crucial time of the school year, I had to get it in gear. I never want to be in that particular gear ever again.

Forgive me for the short post. I’ve exceeded my daily word quota. Plus, yesterday’s post was longer than usual. Let us nevertheless celebrate this moment. But wanna know about something even better we can celebrate? As of tomorrow I have four days left of my third stinkin’ year in university! ONE MORE DOWN WITH MY SANITY INTACT! Oh, too early for that one... But the countdown has begun! I don’t even care right now that I have two more years to go!

On this happy note, good –insert time of day here- Blogville!

Lauren.

Out (of my house...)

I cannot begin to accurately describe how strange today was. I’ll attempt it by saying that it felt like day two of forgetting to take my medication. In other words, all over the place emotionally. I was guns blazing angry this morning. I was indifferent this afternoon. Finally tonight, I was pretty happy. All of that made me pretty sleepy.

I started today being invisible. I got up around nine and no one spoke to me or acknowledged my presence until about three hours later. Give or take. Probably give. At first it was just my sister and her boyfriend. I understood why they were ignoring me. The night before my sister “forgot” her key again and decided to come home sometime around 11. We’d all gone to bed. I was still up and working on other things in my room. My mom got me out of bed because she was in her nightgown and made me go unlock it. Thank goodness it was my sister and not a knife wielding maniac. I grumbled/maybe shouted, said loudly at the very least, that she should remember her key. I also used much more hostile language. Then, in a fit of class, I stormed off. This morning my mother reprimanded me for “making everyone uncomfortable” and just to make matters better, she compared my behaviour to that of my abusive grandfather. This is the man who would terrify me just by walking up the stairs. Anyway, I used her reprimand as a jumping off point to air my other grievances. Needless to say, they were swept under the rug. Prior to that however, my dad just didn’t see me even though I was literally three feet away and wearing a neon green soccer jersey while watching an Arnold movie full of esplosions!. I swear sometimes I really do turn invisible. Scientists of the world unite to solve this dilemma!

After all that I was so angry and frustrated that I couldn’t focus long enough to do anything, which in turn, led to feeling depressed. So... afternoon was pretty unproductive, which caused me to panic because any time wasting at this point in the school year is almost criminal. I’m at a point where I just don’t care and I just want it to end now. But that won’t happen so somehow, I will get everything done.

Finally, this evening, I went out. With people. Real people. It was the end of the year party for Pride. I didn’t eat because I’m not a fan of chicken wings, but I stayed for the whole dinner and I also went to the ‘after party’. I don’t think there’s a single sexual innuendo left that I haven’t heard. I don’t think there is a single karaoke song left un-butchered. And most importantly to the others, not so much me because I was drinking water, all of the glasses and pitchers were emptied. I can’t speak from experience, but does alcohol give people more energy? Seriously, I think it would do the opposite, but I was totally sober and ready to pass out and they were still going. I had fun though and I don’t think I do enough fun things just for the sake of them being fun. We eventually had to leave the restaurant because UFC fighting was beginning and men who were clearly overdosed on testosterone were slowly easing us out of our table. One of them looked at me creepily... I should have poked him.

OH! Also, a warning to girls who like to wear short skirts. If you like short skirts and still care about “your modesty” which you probably don’t, know that if you climb stairs we can see what’s under your skirt. At the place where we were, the washrooms are in the basement and our table was near the stairs. I was facing them. This girl with a belt for a skirt came up the stairs and I happened to turn my head just in time to get an eyeful. Let it also be said that just because I’m attracted to women doesn’t mean I want to see ALL of a strange woman. Nor do I want to turn my head and be victimized. Yes, victimized. There are better ways of getting attention!

So here’s to new and better ways of getting attention!

Lauren.

Words and Expressions

For as long as I can remember I’ve always loved words. My favourite word ever is ‘fisticuff’. My favourite word today is 'sporadic'. And while I can’t think of any at the moment, I also love expressions. In an attempt to swear less, because I tend to swear a lot, I’ve come up with expressions of my own: Martha Stewart Living, Poo on a stick, Poo on toast (not mine), Son of a fruit bat. Sometimes I use two languages to properly convey my aggravation. If it’s totally French, run. I only swear in French when I’m really, really, really mad. Every swear in French is blasphemous.

But this does have a point. For all the expression and words that I do like, there is an equal number that I do not. These will seem strange so I’ll explain. First the oldest, then the newest.

Snap out of it: My mom used to tell me that all the time when I was in a bad mood. The reason I hate it is because my bad moods aren’t something that I can control. I have depression which makes bad moods kind of a staple in my behavioural habits. Like, if I could snap out of it, don’t cha think I would?

And...

It’ll happen (or variants thereof): Okay, so I know it’s said in an optimistic way intended to cheer me up, but it doesn’t and I’m really sick of hearing it. It’s like dismissing the twenty or so minutes I spend explaining how I feel in two words. Very annoying and not helpful in the least.

As for words I hate... I don’t think there are many. The only one that comes to mind is ‘cotton ball’ and that’s because I associate it with cotton balls which I hate. Ugh... God they’re horrible. I just shivered typing that.

I just felt like saying all of this because it’s been bothering me for a while and I didn’t get around to it in therapy today. Which went well by the way. But I definitely get along better with Angela. Maybe not better, but differently. If I start swearing, she starts swearing and we laugh. So... we’re just on the same page I guess. We’ve had three years to get to know one another though.

Oh well. I’m going to ask just so I feel less weird, anyone have words or expressions they love or hate they’d like to share?

Lauren

Birthday Take 2

I have to say, today’s birthday was much better than yesterday’s. No headache, no twelve hour school day, no people hitting me. It was lovely. I called my grandma to thank her for my gift and we actually talked about me for a little over half an hour. It was nice. We went out for supper, saw one of my old bosses. I think it’s the first time I was thankful she didn’t give a shit what we did because she didn’t recognize me. So that was good, the food was good. Came home, ate the rest of my cake. Much more birthdayish than yesterday.

I don’t have much more that I want to talk about. It was a pretty nice quiet day. Tomorrow will be more eventful. I have errands to run. First or last, probably last I get to pay my university 200$. I’m not particularly impressed. After that I’m hoping to learn that there will actually be English classes I’m interested in next year. So far, I’m not especially interested in what they’re offering otherwise. And after that, I get to go see a new therapist. I’m hoping it’s only temporary because I like Angela. No offence to Andrea (ironic isn’t it?) but I’ve been seeing Angela for three years and therapy works with Angela. Arg... but I shall give her a chance. Maybe after that I’ll head in to the local Staples and give Josh a piece of my mind. He may have fixed my computer but now everything is acting up so... he also broke it for 300$. That doesn’t seem to make sense to me.

Anyway, a good day overall. I shall see you all tomorrow.

Lauren.

365.25 Days Older

Today I became legal in the States. The fact that I don’t drink is of course ironic but the point is that I’m now 21. I don’t really know what to think about that. Not much I suppose because even if I don’t like it, I’ll still be 21... Some of my older friends have called me “still so young”, “a baby” or recently “a puppy”. I like puppy over old bitch any day. What irks me is that these people are four years older than me. Because you’re so much wiser... you know who you are... And I’m aware that 21 is still in fact young.

As far as days go, I’d say it was average, although for some reason people insisted on touching (kicking while sleeping and poke attacking) me or in one case, throwing a wallet at me. That also annoyed me. Then again, I didn’t sleep well, so I was a bit cranky today. Now that I think of it, I should have stolen the cash from the wallet then whipped it back at the person who threw it at me. Why are all my best ideas afterthoughts? Dang. I could have claimed it was a present!

On the bright side, my parents bought me a camera. It’s pretty and red. My grandma remembered me this year which was cool (she has a lot of people to remember). My parents told me that we are going to Stratford (Ontario) this summer and that we’re even seeing the play I wanted to see. My sister drove me home and I’m still alive to tell the tale. She was going 70 on a dark, horrible road (famed for potholes cars disappear into and wash boarding) framed by trees which are known to play host to at least three deer and one bear. I wasn’t lying when I said my school was in the middle of the bush. And yes, the deer are awake. I haven’t yet seen the bear. In Holocaust history I didn’t learn anything that would emotionally scar me for the rest of my life. That was a nice change from the last few lectures which I had a particularly hard time stomaching. Also, I discovered that I don’t need techie people to connect my computer to the network at school. So I watched The Incredibles on Youtube which I found wonderfully entertaining. I feel as though these are small triumphs, but triumphs nonetheless.

It was a long day, from 10:00am-8:30pm. I’ve had a headache for the last five hours so I requested we not sing happy birthday. Now that I think of it, I sort of miss it. I just plain wasn’t very festive at all today. Tomorrow will be better. That’s when we’re actually celebrating. I’m going to consider it a do-over of sorts. I know I’ll be in a better mood with more sleep and a much more reasonable day of work.

Lauren.

The Colour of a Lemon

I have nothing to report today. It was pretty quiet. There is however something that I will do. I am going to answer questions that I know you were all dying to know.

Question: How do you turn a lemon green?

Answer: You leave the slices out for three weeks or so. They’ll turn a sort of sea-foam green.

Question: Is it possible to touch a lemon and turn it to dust?

Answer: Yes. It is possible. Once you’ve left the slices out for several weeks, you can poke them and they disintegrate, into dust.

Question: What do green dusty lemons smell like?

Answer: Oddly enough, they still smell like that lemon-clean but with the distinct smell of rot.

Yeah... I went back to work today. Discovered some pre-Egypt dishes.... let’s just say I sanitized like a lunatic. I scrubbed and washed those dishes twice and they still weren’t clean... so right now they’re soaking... and will be until around five o’clock tomorrow. So basically I was thanking God that I didn’t drop anything in the garbage tonight. I’ve had to garbage pick before and I really didn’t want to tonight.

Apparently Helen and Ed had a good time in Egypt. It was very different than what they expected though. I don’t have much more to say. I’m kind of tired so I’m off to bed. So, now that you know all these interesting facts about lemons, I expect you to put that knowledge to good use. By good used I mean you should never, ever, want to do that. Unless you’re really bored and really curious. And yes, I absolutely mean lemons. I’m not confused with limes.

Lauren.

Mystery Solved

Well... I can’t say today started very well. Again, I didn’t sleep... I was up all night, tossing and turning. This morning sometime around 6:00 I woke up feeling really panicked. I managed to calm down enough to get back to sleep. Around 7:00 I woke up again and was having a full blown panic attack. I didn’t know what was causing it, my mind racing. I didn’t know how to talk myself down and all the usual things I do weren’t working. So, I don’t know if it’s embarrassing or not, but I grabbed an old stuffed animal and slept until 9:00. Of course that meant I was really late and had to move it because my class started at ten, but I had about an hour and forty five minutes of deep sleep and I woke up calm. Of course my sister was wondering why I was sleeping with a teddy bear but it worked. She didn’t ask any questions beyond “you slept with your teddy bear?” so, whatever right? After that, I forgot my Creative Writing binder, eventually came home to get it, went to the bathroom and stabbed myself in the ass with a pen. I forgot I had the pen in my pocket... it hurt. Again with the bathroom! Creative Writing was fun though. The day ended well... that’s all that really matters.

The Mediator Continued

Lauren curious: Why do you look guilty?


Magda defensive: I do not look guilty.

Freud: Yes you do. Evilly Are you sufferink from some type of complex? I vould love to look at it more closely vith you.

Magda: I’m sure you’d love to claim I have some kind of Oedipal complex or that I’m repressing the urge to brain you, which I actually am, but I am guilty of nothing.

Freud jumping up and down like an excited child: You are! Your eyes are going in the wrong direction for somevan tellink ze truce and you are sveating! You are lyink!

Lauren: Freud, little less glee. Maggie, a little more truth.

Magda pleading and shifting uncomfortably: It’s really nothing to worry about Lauren.

Lauren: What’s the pet project?

Magda coughing the name: Frank. An angry stomp is heard from above. Everyone looks up. Freud and Lauren return their focus to Magda after a short pause.

Freud and Lauren Freud with accent: What?

Magda: Frank dammit! Frank! Frank is my pet project.

Lauren: Frank? My imaginary boyfriend who lives in the attic Frank? He was cheating on me? With you? Well! I expect this of real people but of my own imaginary friends! I expected more from you.

Magda: He’s imaginary, you aren’t actually dating him. And you never let him out of the attic, what do you expect.

Lauren: I only need him when my grandparents are around... otherwise he kind of creeps me out.

Freud: Oh zis iss fantestik! May I take notes?

Lauren: Put that pad away or I’ll imagine a way to keep you from writing from now until you become another mildly disturbed girl’s imaginary friend! And that will be a while! A long while! Because I will always be mildly disturbed.

Magda: You are such a freak...

Lauren: You’d better be talking to Freud.

Magda shifty eyes: Of course I was talking to Freud. I don’t exist without you.

Lauren darkly: It’s too late to suck up.

Freud: Speakink of ze time, I heve an appointment vith Cooper. May I go?

Lauren: We have not even started working on the issue you and Maggie have.

Freud: It vill be fine. Now zat I heve some dirt on her as vell.

Magda: You aren’t going to tell the others are you?

Freud: Not yet. It vould serve you right for tellink everyvan I listen, sing and dance to Gven Stefani... Holla Beck Girl indeed! Singing and dancing “I heard zat you vere talkink shit and you didn’t sink zat I vould hear it!” Oh how ze lyrics come beck to bite you. Laughs maniacally and disappears.

Lauren: Well that wasn’t very productive.

Magda scoffing: Is anything we ever do productive?

Lauren pensive: I suppose we did solve the current problem of you two fighting every nanosecond. Who would have thought he’d be open to blackmail. Long pause. So... how long you been with Frank?

Magda: Couple months. It’s convenient, what with me living in the closet and the door to the attic being in the closet. I don’t know if it’s working out though.

Lauren: Oh, well, how come?

Magda: He’s started making me stuff out of insulation. It was kinda cute at first, you know, cause he lives in it, but now the closet is starting to look like it’s been invaded by dust bunnies drunk on Pepto. It’s hell to keep clean.

Lauren: Creepy man, I tell ya. Want to go out for coffee or something? I need to get out of here.

Magda: Yeah sure, let’s go.


This post was way longer than I wanted it to be. I hope you guys don’t mind too much... Anyway, I am going to go to bed. I have to go back to work tomorrow.

Lauren.

The Mediator

I’m feeling a tad bit lazy at the moment as I have a mountain of homework that I originally thought was a molehill. I WAS SO WRONG! Anyway, since you guys are involved in this I only feel it’s fair that I share. Here’s a part of my Creative Writing assignment. I had to write a dramatic dialogue. Let me know what you guys think.

The Mediator

Lauren, Magda and Freud are all sitting at a table. Magda and Freud are at opposite ends of the table looking angry and annoyed, while Lauren sits calmly between them. Magda and Freud should be acting childishly toward one another, possibly making faces or trying to kick one another under the table.

Lauren: Okay, so, we’re here today to work out the issues you two have with one another. I will be the mediator. In my opinion it’s sad we even have to mediate, but since that’s what it’s come down to, so be it. Well, I think we can start this now. Does everyone know the rules?

Freud: I do not vant her lookink into my head!

Magda: Just because I’m omniscient doesn’t mean I want to look inside your stupid head. And believe me, in comparison, yours is a stupid head.

Freud: Says you! You live in a closet!

Lauren: I can see that you’re both going to be mature about this.

Magda: I’m perfectly mature, as you can plainly see he’s the one who started it by being childish
and making wild assumptions. I mean honestly Lauren there is nothing in his head that I want to know. I block him out as much as possible.

Lauren aside to Magda: I know... believe me. I wish I could do the same.

Freud: I can hear you! Lauren, you are not a very quvalified mediator. Perheps ve should find somevan else.

Magda: And who would you suggest?

Freud: Cooper.

Magda: We are not getting that brain dead ninja in here to testify on your behalf. God and I only know what you’ve been planting in his mind. Which you should stop doing by the way. Besides, he only speaks in one word sentences.

Freud: So you admit to eavesdroppink on my sessions vith Cooper! You’ve admitted it! Lauren! standing and pointing at Magda. She has admitted it! I vin! I vin!

Lauren: No wonder I get so many headaches. You two seriously need to chill out. Freud, she could have just as easily gotten it from Cooper. Moreover, I don’t think Copper minds that she can read his mind. It saves him having to say everything in one word sentences. I mean, think of how hard it is to get a message across with sentences that consist of only one word. And Maggie, try to stop listening in on Freud and Cooper. You know it gets Freud’s panties in a twist.

Freud indignant: I do not vear panties!

Magda bored: It’s true, he doesn’t.

Freud: See! She has done it again! Not even my undervear are private! I canno verk like zis!

Magda: Right... because imaginary people do so much work.

Freud: I do plenty of verk. Jast because you sit your closet all day does not mean zat everyvan iss so idle.

Lauren: GAH! Enough! It feels like there’s a blitzkrieg going on in my head.

Magda: Good, that means I eventually win.

Freud: Not before I bomb ze living Hell out of Europe.

Lauren: Okay, you are both to ignore my overdose of Nazism! I have to sit through six hours of Nazi atrocity a week! I will not have that infiltrating my imaginary conversations! I am calling a cease fire! Pretend it’s Christmas. We had a great Christmas guys. Let’s go back to that.

Freud: It vas only great because she hadn’t moved in yet. She hed her own apartment. Speakink of vhich, vhen vill you heve your own home again?

Magda: When pigs fly old timer.

Lauren: Am I going to have to imagine one of you on vacation? Because I will dammit!

Freud: Make it her. I vas your imeginary friend long before she came. Besides, I am doing verk vith Cooper. He iss progressing so vell! If only I could get him to stop talking to a sock puppet...

Magda: Wait! I can’t go!

Lauren: Why, I can take care of the blog for a week or so.

Magda secretive: I have... things...

Lauren: Things?

Freud bordering on gleeful: Yes MAG-DUH? Things?

Magda dismissively: It’s unimportant. Really... just a pet project if you will.

Lauren curious: Why do you look guilty?


This is only the first two pages of the assignment. There are four. I'll post the other two tomorrow. I doubt anything interesting or miraculous is going to happen to disrupt that plan so you will see what Maggie's secret is. There were a few issues with formatting when I copied this but I hope you enjoyed it regardless.

Lauren.

Pay It Forward -- yes I stole that line

Ack! I will never be a fascist. Most confusing ideology ever. Seriously, set out some guidelines! I’m just frustrated because I can’t find much specific information regarding Dutch fascism up to 1938. It’s horrible! But given that that’s my only frustration today, I’m pretty willing to let it slide. Dumb fascism... okay now I’m ready to let it slide.

Today was uneventful and rather boring until two things happened. The first I encourage everyone to do. I’ve done it in the past and I’ve found it to be a rewarding experience. Curious? I got an email from one of my professors today, my sociology professor. (I told you I’d talk about it.) A little while ago, I gave her the link to my blog because I thought she would find some of the posts interesting. Smileyfreak, she was amused at being called “off the head”. I also got an explanation for the book about poo. I forget what it was now, but it made perfect sense. Anyway, back to the story. She emailed me today and told me that she admired my writing and my honesty regarding the telling of my daily life. She also told me that she thought I would be an excellent teacher. (PAUSE FOR A MOMENT)

(We’re going to take a minute to imagine Lauren’s face. Eyebrows were about as high as eyebrows can naturally go, mouth slightly agape, right eyebrow cocked in strange fashion, urge to go “Whaaaaaaaaaaa!?”)

(OKAY, PLAY)

I finished reading the email and was pretty much speechless. I don’t know if that’s a normal reaction or not. It took me about an hour and a half I think to write her back saying thank you. Seriously, could have ended at two words... But I honestly didn’t know how to respond. When it sank in I think I giggled girlishly as I pictured all the miserable people in my life (who know nothing about me) who tell me I shouldn’t be a teacher or that I won’t be able to. WELL HAHA TO YOU ALL! CHECK IT? MY PROF THINKS I’M AWESOME! MEANING YOU JUST SUCK! And now that the gloating portion of this post has escaped, I will continue with the story.

I was sitting with my parents, watching the Antonio Banderas version of Zorro when my girlish giggle fit occurred. My mom asked me what was up. I needed help saying thank you so I ignored my better judgement and told her. I have one word to describe it: deadpan. Her crocheting was too consuming I suppose. It’s not like knitting alright? You don’t have to count so what the hell are you concentrating on? But here’s the part Angela (my therapist) would just be so proud of me for, I didn’t really care. Yes it stung a little, but it was to be expected. And even now as I’m typing this, I know of other people who would be proud of me and happy for me. Angela for instance. I can picture her face. It’s kind of scaring me. So while it hurt a bit, it didn’t diminish anything. SO NANIPOO! Very mature of me I know.

The lesson for today is, when you admire someone or something, you should tell them or express it. I’ve now been on both sides and I have to say, it’s pretty amazing on both. It’ll make the person’s day and the smile you bring them will make yours.

And to end on a funny note, my absent minded, somewhat ditzy mother (where do I get it from I wonder) once again said something that just astounded me.


Lauren: Would it be possible to get a ride to a friend’s house for six o’clock tomorrow. She lives around Grand-maman’s.

Mom: Sure, I think we can do that. Six o’clock AM or FM?


Sometimes she drops the ball but I do love my mom. And yes, she was being perfectly serious.

Lauren

My Appreciation Goes To: ...

I don’t think I’ve written a silly/pointless post in a long time. So I’m glad to present my first silly/pointless post in a long time. There’s really nothing silly or pointless going on anymore. That kind of makes me sad. Anyway, we all know that I have problems with bathrooms. Either I get locked in them, I forget my towel and am stuck in them or I nearly fall into the toilet. No doubt the majority of my clumsy moments involve bathrooms. Wait... that didn’t come out that way I meant it to... I mean, screw it, it’s not going to get better.

In any case, today I would like to give credit to this oft used room. And not just credit for its usual purposes. I have found several other purposes for bathrooms that don’t involve hygene. Or hiding... I’ve noticed that people tend to hide in washrooms at school or in public places.

For instance, what is going on in these photos?

That’s right, I’m using the shower and towel rack to dry my clothes! That’s the problem with being tall... I don’t trust dryers. Last year people started thinking all of my shirts were three quarter length sleeves... stupid long arms and even stupider (yes, stupider) short sleeves.

And the awesome thing is bathrooms are useful to animals too! Meeko also finds particular delight in the washroom. It took me a while to get these because he’d guiltily stare at me.

He’s not supposed to drink out of the bathroom sink. We prefer that he drink out of the laundry tub. I hope you all appreciate these pictures because I am going to catch Hell for them if my parents ever decide to read my blog of their own free will. That’ll probably happen when Hell freezes over so... what am I worried about? But in case they do, the tap was on when I got there!

This is also an important lesson for pet owners. Don’t spoil your pets. Before you know it, a dish of water won’t be good enough.

I hope you can now appreciate your washrooms for their many and diverse uses. I know I appreciate mine so much more now than I did a few hours ago.

By the way, that’s our semi-functioning basement washroom. The shower still leaks so we tend not to use it for bathing. Unless we also want to wash the floor. I’m kidding... although... that would be interesting! Oh, uh, we have another fully functioning bathroom upstairs. So I do bathe. Frequently. Every day actually. I'm stopping now...

Lauren.

The Results. Sorry Zoe.

First, I’ll apologize for the hasty turn my post from yesterday took. I should give warning. I’ve never been so affected by a class before though and I don’t really have a lot of people I can talk to about it. And it does have to come out... I can’t keep it in.

But, that’s all the heavy stuff for today. I’m afraid Zoe will be very disappointed to hear how the events of the last twenty four hours transpired. We cancelled our work session today. Therefore, there was no ass-smacking, suggestive eyebrow raising, flirtatious smirking or back of the library tawdriness. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m quite fond of the word “tawdriness”. So, sorry Zoe, my interactions with this girl remain, as they always have, innocent. As in platonic.

In spite of Zoe’s optimism, I’m not expecting anything to change. I’ve had too many straight girl crushes to even think of hoping for that. And let me tell you, for those who don’t know, straight girl crushes are a freaking nightmare. It’s like crushing on anyone else, except that not only does your crush not feel the same way toward you, but they won’t even think twice about you because of your gender. It’s very annoying. Sexist even. There, that’s my argument, you should think twice. In fact, you must think twice to call yourself an equal opportunity supporter. I’m just kidding. I know I can’t like boys... so I don’t blame the girls I had the misfortune to fall in like with. I’m actually still good friends with one of them. The other all have long stories attached that I don’t really want to get into

So that’s the status of today. Other than that, I did some laundry, returned some library books and all kinds of other boring trivial things. Oh! I cleaned my room again! But as of right now I’m watching The Pianist for the second time, this time diligently taking notes. I have to write a Survival essay, explaining how the main character in the movie and Primo Levi from Survival in Auschwitz managed to survive the war and the Holocaust. This time I’m watching it with my family instead of with my class. The experience is quite different. In class everything is totally silent, here my parents are commenting and I’m filling in the historical gaps. I do have to say, it’s a bit harder to watch the second time around, but still a fantastic movie.

That’s all for today I’m afraid. Rather boring day. But I’m off to dry my clothes... Tomorrow I’ll show you what an endeavour that actually is.

Lauren.

The Good and The Evil

I believe that everyone has a little voice in the back of their head. I have several. Various voices come out for various occasions. Although I’m sure you’ve realized this by now. Today’s amusing little anecdote is probably going to come bite me in the ass, but it’s so amused me that I can’t not share.

I’m not a very girly girl. I don’t have many friends who are. While working, I met Zoe who is a girly girl. So, I find it fun to turn to her with my girly issues, like when I get asked out, or when I have a crush on someone, or when I notice someone. The reason you haven’t heard about her yet is probably because I keep getting the good ‘ole “I like you, but I don’t like you like you”. By the way, that doesn’t mean I’ve succeeded.

Anyway, today I had a totally innocent conversation with a girl in one of my classes. I’d never spoken to her before, we’d been in a couple of classes together though. We got along quite well, had a lovely conversation that was free of awkward lulls. This in Zoe language means “POUNCE”. So while I was referencing my paper, I’m also talking to Zoe on MSN. I could barely focus on Christina Rossetti. Zoe is the little devil on my shoulder. I’m writing about fallen women and she’s messaging me with stuff like “Yeah, slap her on the ass and see what she does.” I had to laugh because never in a zillion years would I actually do that. I like doing goofy things to see what people will do but I think that’s going a little far... Zoe made a few other suggestions, like letting this girl catch me staring at her, then smirking. Again I giggled. In the end, I was assured all of this would work out in my favour. Did I mention that my conversation with this strange girl was totally innocent? I mean, yes, she is devastatingly attractive (which intimidates me) but I am so not hitting on a straight girl in public. I do that in private. Over the computer. Because I’m not stupid. And then I can claim I meant to send it to someone else. Mwahahaha! Yes, I’m a coward but in this case, I think I can live with that.

So, tomorrow I’m going to have another innocent meeting with this girl and the other member of our group in the library. While some of my friends (mentioned above) are sure this meeting will lead to back of the library tawdriness, I am not for a second convinced. Although I must say, I don’t think I would mind... hmmm...

But yeah, that conversation with Zoe totally made my day. Before that it was quite awful. Holocaust history I think stole a piece of my heart today. We were watching child survivors testify (they were obviously no longer children). That was honestly the single most horrible thing I have ever heard and am ever likely to hear. Horrible isn’t strong enough. I almost burst into tears about six times and at one point, I nearly threw my water bottle at the screen I was so angry. These three Jewish children had run to a house and were banging on the door to avoid being picked up and brought to the shooting site. The woman living in the house didn’t open the door, but she did open the window. She proceeded to yell and point to police officers that Jewish children were escaping. People jokingly say there are things they can go their entire lives without knowing. This was one of them, and I don’t know why, but I’m compelled to know. The more I learn and know, the less it all makes sense. I’ll never make sense of it. Not the events and not my strange need to know.

Heavy ending, but... I had to say something. If anyone knows how these children moved on to live after that war please let me know. It’s the only question I really have regarding those years. I was very quiet the rest of the day.

Lauren.

The Great Debate

Ever had one of those lazy, tired, exhausted days when the most effort you’re willing to exert involves rolling out of bed? I had one of those. But I went to class, I went to the Pride meeting and hung out with some of the Pride and WC members. I walked home. I had lofty goals of writing a paper. Pfft... Yeah... I sat down and couldn’t bring myself to get back up. I then had a lovely bath (which I’ve been doing much more frequently these days), and then watched a movie. I am soooooooooo not in the mood to do anything. I can practically feel my eyelids closing on me.

I have to tell you guys this though because I don’t know anyone who would find it more amusing. For my next week’s Creative Writing class we have to write and perform a piece of dialogue. So... it took me all of five seconds to figure out what I was going to do. Have you guessed that it involves my imaginary friends?

Magda: Yes... we’ve guessed Lauren.

Freud: And ve do not sink parading around in front of a group iss very amusink.

Lauren: Well, you won’t be parading. You don’t even have to be there. I’m getting two girls from my class to be you.

Freud: Be us? Me and Maggie?

Lauren: Yes, you. Ironically a girl named Maggie will be playing you Freud and a girl named Krystal will be playing Maggie. I think Maggie (the real one) will do an awesome job with your accent.

Freud: I have an accent?!

Magda: Dude... you’re in Lauren’s head, she’s Canadian, you’re Austrian. Of course you have a friggin’ accent.

Freud: I do not recall esking for your opinion MAG-DUH!

Lauren: Just so you know, these little spats are what I’m going to write about.

Freud: And vhere exactly do you fit in in zis little drama?

Lauren: I’m the mediator. It’s not like you can be there without me.

Freud: But vhy does a girl have to play me?

Lauren: Because male representation in my class is exactly proportional to male representation in the school. [Magda and Freud confused] We’re ten students in all, there are two guys. One wasn’t there and I don’t know, I just didn’t think to ask Andrew. By the way, both guys are named Andrew. What are the odds of that?

Magda: Apparently fairly good. So... this Krystal character... is she normal?

Lauren: Well... I think I’m generally the crazier one in class. I share with Maggie so it doesn’t become too taxing. So, in comparison to me and Maggie, yes, she is definitely normal. I don’t know much about how she is outside of class. She at least seems fascinated by you guys.

Freud: I vish you vould heve esked us first.

Lauren: I would have but no one other than me can see you. And besides, I’m the boss of you, not the other way around. The day you start bossing me around is the day I’ve developed a third mental disorder and I’m not up to that. So... no over achieving. The anxiety and dysthymia are more than enough.

Magda: What about Rochester? Or Cooper? Or... Mr. Plunk?

Lauren: I can only have so many manifestations of my insanity loose at once. Besides, no one in my class understands that Rochester is a Canadian leprechaun. I’ve tried explaining his immigration after the Leprechaun Uprisings but I just get blank stares. As for Cooper, he doesn’t say enough and Mr. Plunk says all too much. Besides, I’m the writer. This argument is closed.


Thankfully, they can’t go on strike because if they tried I can just imagine it away. Hehe! I’m a little excited to write this piece. We’ll see how it turns out. And I have actually said all of these things out loud in class. I’m used to the confused, blank stares. It makes me laugh. That and it’s shockingly easy and fun.

Lauren.

An Overview

Okay, I'm really pooped today. When I woke up this morning I tried to pretend that I hadn't but since I was awake and consciously pretending, it didn't quite work out. I don't have much to say. Just an ordinary day in the life of Lauren. Although, I found a new bathroom issue. Today I tripped on my shoe and almost fell into the toilet. While this is totally a me thing to do, I don't think the toilet is a place I want to explore. Oh, and I got an overload of anti-Semitism today... I'm prepared for it in the morning, not so much in my other class. So that dragged my mood down. My creative writing piece went over alright but I don't think everyone "got it" the way I intended. And that was how fascinating today was.

I have included a picture relating to my post from... Saturday. I hope you now understand the nature of my argument. Because... I was just blown away.

That hair is all his by the way. I have nothing further to add. I must sleep. Goodnight bloggers and blogville.

Lauren.

Writing, Pain, Baths and Writing

Where are you weekend? Why can’t I find you? Why have you gone away? Cindy Lou Who anyone? Also, I totally forgot about this even though I was reminded by one of the friendlier bus drivers: DAMN YOU TIME CHANGE! DAMN YOU FOR STEALING AN HOUR OF MY SLEEP! Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system...

I have proven that I don’t have super powers but that I do in fact have super writing ability. I finally finished my Lit paper. So, this weekend, I’ve finished two eight page papers. My intention was to finish four papers but that was ridiculous. I forgot about my creative writing assignment so... if you want, add on another four page paper. This one actually required more work than usual because I decided to write a historical fiction. If you’re interested in what I wrote on, look up the Rosentrasse protest of 1943. I can post the piece if you want but it will be quite long.

I attempted to get my fascism essay done, but that just wasn’t going to happen. I had a horrible headache all day today. Probably from staring at a computer all weekend. But I got through some of my research and made some notes. I’ll have it done by Wednesday. I hate March Madness. This has to be the worst year for me. Seven papers due in two weeks. I’d be screwed if I were working at the restaurant.

In other news... I did nothing this weekend. I’ve taken a lot of baths. Because when your head kills and you want to die a little on the inside, a bath is the perfect solution.

I suppose for lack of postage today I could put up something I wrote for class... This is a piece of flash/postcard fiction. Flash because it’s so short but still has a beginning, middle and end. Postcard because it’s supposed to be able to fit on a postcard. Mine’s about 250 words. This is one of the pieces my class will be work-shopping tomorrow night. Fingers crossed.

-------------------------------
Valentine’s Day was a Hallmark ritual that nineteen year old Dana hated. It was a day when she was reminded of all she had not achieved. She was an average but hardworking student while also being a minimum wage lackey with a fairly decent job. That wasn’t the problem. Her social life was the problem. It sucked. Majorly.

As she ate a sad bowl of cereal that night, she glared at the stunning pink roses her sister had received. Dana wanted someone to buy her roses. She wanted to be with someone on Valentine’s Day rather than being alone, eating soggy cereal at ten o’clock at night, with her cat creepily staring at her. She didn’t care if it was only a made up holiday designed for corporate cash grabs. For once, she wanted the experience. At least her happily married parents hadn’t forgotten her. And chocolate did soothe the wounds of lifelong singlehood. The horrible irony of her chocolate was that they were Hershey Kisses. She couldn’t get a person to kiss her, but chocolate, chocolate would just have to do.

Over the next few days, she ate her Kisses sparingly. She could taste the taint of Valentine’s Day on them. When she at last reached the lone, surviving Kiss, she hesitated before placing it on her dresser. Grinning slightly, she walked away. The box, the wrappers, the annoying little tails of paper were crumpled in the trash. But the lone, surviving Kiss sat waiting on her dresser.
-------------------------------


So yeah. It’s not my favourite piece but I still like it. For the girl who hates her first novel with all the fires of Hell, still liking a piece is a pretty good thing.

Anyway, let me know what you think. Be gentle. It was my first time with flash fiction.

Lauren.

All About Ian (Almost)

Today was very interesting. It was part funny, part traumatic and part sad. I’ll start with the trauma and sadness first. The trauma isn’t mine. It’s Meeko’s. While I was out today, my sister and her boyfriend, for whatever reason, decided it was a good idea to give Meeko a bath. When I got home, aware of that little tidbit, I found him on my bed, still damp, looking like he’d been blow dried and looking really pissed off. I dried him off a little more and sat with him while he slept. The poor guy is still damp. It’s uncomfortable for me sitting beside him I can’t imagine what he must feel like. Maybe like he’s stuck in a damp sweater. As to the sad, well, that’s not mine either. I just finished watching A Walk to Remember. I’d never seen it before. I didn’t cry but dammit I was close. I haven’t watched a drama in a very long time and I now remember why. It always bothers me when the character dies because even though I know it’s coming, I always hope for the happy ending. Stupid writer, movie people messing with my head.

Now, on to the funny. The rest of this post is going to be all about Ian. Today the residences and Pride hosted a drag show at school. It was a fundraiser for the AIDS and Amelia Rising (the sexual assault center). Anyway, I don’t know how we managed to do this, but we convinced Ian to be one of the seven queens. Not dwarves. Queens. I wish I had pictures to show you because he really went all out (he shaved everything that would be visible, unlike some queens). And he was not an ugly woman. He looked pretty amazing. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he surpassed all expectations.

Which brings me to my next point. Somehow, he didn’t win! Clearly there is some kind of behind the scenes dealing going on with the judge’s panel. There was bribery somewhere, I know it. I’m gonna bust this thing wide open. Corruption says I! He was gorgeous! His makeup was flawless, his outfit was hot, his lip syncing was spot on! Granted he probably lost points for not participating in the optional swim suit round, but his boobs were better than mine. Come to think of it, that’s another point I’ll have to address with him later. What is this world coming to! I mean, if he was a little curvier, I dunno... maybe... that’s all I’m gonna say.

I’ll try to get some pictures for you guys on Monday. Oh, and in case I sound really serious, I’m not. It is really too bad he didn’t win, but the show was more for fun. We raised some money, packed an auditorium, waxed some willing guys for cash and had some laughs. Personally, I think Ian looked the most like a real drag queen and on those grounds alone, I think he should have won. Plus, he didn’t have to wear a wig. So there. I almost forgot! His name was Oliver Beaver but he changed it at the last minute to Fretitia Lay or something like that.

I’ll probably be shot if I don’t mention this, so, SARAH was coaxed into entering the drag king competition along with two of my other friends. They were all fantastic, though I have to applaud Sarah for taping down her boobs with duct tape. Crazy lady! Oh, her drag name was Fabio. She had to come up with a name on the spot and that’s what came out... I never said my friends were normal... I never said I was normal.

Anyway, night everyone! Good morning if you’re reading this in the morning. And good afternoon too. Just to be safe. (I have another three paragraphs to write for my 19th century lit paper. Almost done!)

Lauren.

Musically Dorky

Okay, I lied. My intention was to finish my 19th Century Lit paper but I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I forgot that I had class today. But on the upside, I’ve finished my Orientation to Teaching requirements so at least that’s done with. I had to plan my essay anew after I read some articles. Not that I’m wrong, just that my argument is stronger now. So that’s at least good. I’m going to try to at least get a third of it done before I pass out. I think I can manage at least that.

On a more entertaining note, I discovered that listening to music makes everything about ten times more interesting.

For instance, my sister was driving me to school the other day and for whatever reason she had “It’s in His Kiss” on her ipod. Well, I just have one thing to say: too catchy not to sing along to! I imitated Cher (as I enjoy doing) and my sister took backup (in the voice of a slurring drunken baboon). That’s how I started my day. It was great.

Today while walking to school, I was listening to Pink. For about a third of the way I felt very ass kicky. But then the song changed and it was Beethoven’s Symphony Number 5 but done as a disco remix (from Saturday Night Fever). I downloaded it by mistake and now I just think it’s funny. Walking to that song made me feel like such a goober. It was too funny. I had a combination of Mystery Men and Family Guy running through my head and of course, I eventually fell into step with the music. I don’t know what I looked like, but I am curious.

After that, I got on the bus. Guess what song started to play. Holla Back Girl! I burst out laughing at several intervals. I was imagining Freud dancing. Just... such a wonderful visual. No one else can hear my music so I’m sure I looked pretty dumb. In true Lauren fashion, I was laughing my face off while sitting next to a pretty cute girl I never would have spoken to anyway. And yes, I was head bobbing and dancing along. I’m going to steal a quote from Amanda Bynes now in order to defend my behaviour: I’M A DORK! (It’s from Sydney White). On the topic of Amanda Bynes and to further prove my dorkiness, I have used the line “Do you like cheese?” to start conversations. Among my friends. I don’t recall if I’ve ever tried gouda.

The rest of my day was pretty music-less. On the way home I listened to Rachel Maddow. My serious expression probably scared the guy at Blockbuster but he wasn’t very friendly anyway. So pleh!! Deserves an extra exclamation mark for his crankiness.

Freud: Lauren, he does not read your blog, he does not know you.

Lauren: Oh he knows me. I rented the PIANIST! It’s also the first movie I rented with my new Blockbuster card! Are you proud of me? I was all over it.

Freud: Yes, your ability to pull a driver’s licence and credit card from your vallet, zhen state your phone number vas very impressive. And I’m sure he remembers you among ze dossens of ozer people he’ll be seeing tonight. It iss only Friday after all.

Lauren: I’m going to pretend you’re being sincere.

Night everyone! Happy Friday!

Lauren

NEEEEEXT!

Still in the nightmare that is my homework. But the fog has cleared a little. I’ve just finished my first term paper. That makes 1 of 7 papers I have to write in the next two weeks. I know this is ambitious but I’m hoping to write my English paper tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

I’ll give you a little insider look at my schedule for the next four days:

Tonight: SOCIOLOGY OF EDUCATION IS OUT OF THE WAY! WOOT!

Friday: Write 19th Century Lit term paper on the fallen woman.

Saturday: Go to drag party then write fascism paper

Sunday: write Holocaust history Survival essay.


I can feel the carpal tunnel now! Can’t wait! I was never really known for having realistic expectations. In any case, I got one of the big ones out of the way. Tomorrow I’m going to try to get the other big one done. The rest are considerably shorter.

Almost there! I see light at the end of the tunnel! Or is that the oncoming carpal tunnel? I’ll find out soon enough.

Night everyone.

Lauren.

I Found a BFF

I don’t have much to say today. I’ve toned down the angry and am once more at peace. I’m blaming the combination of history and sociology classes and WC hours. There’s only so much injustice and hate that you can deal with before getting angry and ranting.

Today however, was a quiet day. I am officially the Pride Treasurer for next year. Apparently I managed to get 13 of the 18 votes cast. That still means five people didn’t vote for me so I’m going to have to find them and share a stern word with them. I’m kidding.

Also contributing to my lighter than usual humour, I found someone new in the WC to indulge my childishness. No, it’s not Ian. Actually, this time, it is in fact a child. One of the members brings her young (possibly four year old) daughter to the meetings and I spent a good amount of time keeping her entertained. Although, I will admit, it was totally mutual. We played drums on a kiddie pool (actually beating on the penguins and flamingos) and then we built a fort. For whatever reason she insisted on calling it a garbage can. I think it’s because it was essentially made of random crap. But anyway, we’d just say she was lost in the garbage. But not bad smelling garbage. I had to check for myself. The fort suffered several earthquakes in which the roof and wall fell down but thankfully, sheets of bristle board don’t seem heavy enough to keep a trooper down. We played drums some more and of course, I mimicked her which she thought was insanely fun mostly because I couldn’t. I still can’t figure out some of the crazy stuff she was doing with her arms. That kid is flexible. Scary flexible. But then she had to go home and I was bored. I think she was a little sad. Maybe a little. The important thing is that I have a new best friend.

And how on earth can you have a crappy day after that? I mean really? It’s not possible.

In other news I checked my schedule and I am in fact going to read at the writer’s group thing in April. I don’t know what I’m reading but I’ll think of something. There’s still time. Smileyfreak asked if I would post whatever I decide to read. I suppose I could. It’ll probably be longer than a usual post but if you want to read it, I’ll post it. Maybe I’ll start posting stuff I’ve already written for the class and poll all you unfortunate readers to help me pick one for April.

We’ll see how lazy I get in the coming days. I’m swamped with school work right now... can’t wait for the end of April. It’s coming!

Lauren.

I'mma Tellin'

After class ended today, I hopped on the bus and rode to Staples. It’s actually at the stop where I usually get off. Convenient no? Anyway, I walked through the death trap of a parking lot, made it to the store and discovered that my laptop wasn’t ready.

Josh from Staples: So, I’m not quite done yet. Can you hang around?

Lauren: Yeah, I suppose. How long?

Josh: About half an hour?

So I went on a bit of a supply shopping spree. I bought a laptop case because I’m rather rough with my laptop and it could use the extra protection. I also bought more paper and some blank CDs. That took about ten minutes. Why do things that usually take you forever when you have no time, take no time when you have time? I don’t know and I didn’t contemplate it. Instead I popped into Subway for a sandwich, plugged in my MP3 and caught up on The Rachel Maddow Show which I’ve just started listening to via podcast.

Upon my return to Staples, and still listening to Rachel, I was forced to wait an additional thirty to forty minutes. Every time I would snort at something funny or totally unbelieveable I’d just heard on the show, some Staples employee would appear as if from nowhere to ask if I’d been served. Six of them. I wanted to grab the intercom thingy and shout that I had in fact been served. One of them called me Ma’am. WTF? Do I look that old? I know I’m turning 21 this month but geez... Whatever happened to Miss? It’s not even necessary to be polite. “Pardon me (interchangeable with ‘excuse me’) have you been served?” See? Totally works. In the end I got my laptop and all was well. Except for my jumping cursor. That is pissing me off.

On my way home, still listening to Rachel (I’m really, really behind), I wanted to stop and either laugh or kick something. It was the show from the third of this month. She was discussing the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy of the US Armed Forces. Honestly, I don’t mean this to be an ass, I’m being earnest, some Americans just confuse the daylights out of me. They basically reenacted what occured in Salem way back when and this poor guy lost his job. He was actually on active duty in Iraq. UGH! I’m sorry... can you still say ‘land of the free’ when you’re still actively segregating people? I don’t get it.

I have put together a video to illustrate the main reasons I am so confused over why PEOPLE (note the emphasis on the word PEOPLE) of the non-heterosexual persuasion cannot defend their country.

Right hand outside: Lauren's actual hand; Inside: I am a lesbian AND my trigger finger works

Left hand outside: I can also type and push buttons!; Inside: Cool eh?!

Now it just seems silly doesn’t it?

Again, I’m a writer... not a movie maker. Stupid program cut the song in the wrong place... And I’m going to have this stuff written on my hand all day tomorrow. I’m sure that’ll make for interesting stories.

Oh, and check out Rachel Maddow. I find her very entertaining. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26315908/ I must also credit the music to the Counting Crows. Neither am I a singer.

Night everyone!

Lauren

Applying the Seat of Your Pants to the Seat of Your Chair

I think the best way to describe today is as a mixed bag. Of course it was Monday and that ushers in a whole host of crappy just because it is Monday. But today was one of my long days. I was exhausted from not sleeping, a Sunday night/Monday morning trend I’ve developed. And the piece of pie I was looking forward to apparently turned soggy and had to be thrown out. DAMN YOU MCCAIN! That’s the company, not the American politician. Although… he’s blocking gay marriage yes? So… DAMN YOU OTHER MCCAIN! Oh, and Clarence, my laptop is still in the computer hospital. Wishes and prayers accepted.

On the flip side of today and getting off random political tangents, I had a few… interesting experiences. The first occurred when I casually in my typical self deprecating way, made a comment that I’m still single. Amanda, she’s a very sweet, interesting character, warned me that she was about to be honest. I work for Helen, honesty doesn’t scare me. I laugh in the face of honesty. HAHA! She told me that I had to be happy with myself before I would ever be able to maintain a healthy relationship. I totally knew that because Oprah had told me years earlier. Then again, I know Amanda and like her a zillion times more than Oprah. Her statement of self worth was preceded with a comment on how I don’t seem happy with myself. That got me thinking. For the most part I am happy with myself. Of course there are things that I don’t like and that I’m working on (hence six years of therapy). I just didn’t think it showed that much on the outside. I do try. I’ll add that to the list of things to work on.

After that, I had an encounter with my Creative Writing professor. She announced that the local, I suppose it’s a kind of writing club, was hosting an evening and the students (all ten of us) from our class had been invited to read. It’s on a Tuesday smack in the middle of the exam period. She asked for volunteers and being me, I didn’t raise my hand. I have a schedule to consult and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I’m also shy. But that was secondary I swear. Anyway, at the end of class, she stared at me, which she tends to do a lot, and said,

“Lauren, I do wish you would come and read.”

I didn’t really respond right away but she kept talking to me. It was then that I realized I hadn’t been encouraged to write in well over four years. I haven’t actually been told that I’m good by someone significant and present in my life in four years. To have my professor, a published writer might I add, tell me that I’m good really meant something. It was nice to have someone take notice and push me for once. It gets so tiring having to find the motivation inside myself all the time. It’s nice to have someone push a little. I told her I’d look at my exam schedule and if I didn’t have an exam that I would book it off work. Not that that will be easy, but I will do it. She left me with,

“Why write it if you don’t want someone to read it?” Philosophical but I guess it comes down to, why tell the story if you don’t want anyone to hear it. And in that, I see her point.

I think that’s one of the reasons I want to teach. I have personal experience and knowledge of what a good teacher can do. When I was sixteen one of my teachers saved my life and that is not an exaggeration. Too many people don’t have anyone to believe in them or care about them. I think I would very much like to give that of myself.

Anyway, that’s the kind of day it was in The Middle of Nowhere. Oh, and I went to Timmies (a coffee place of a similar nature to Starbucks) and bought myself a Danish to replace my piece of pie. So that was okay.

Lauren.

IT'S SPREAD!

THEY KILLED CLARENCE!

Clarence is my laptop. He has contracted a virus, as has the lovely computer of my friend Veronica. The irony is that Veronica is also sick with a cold. They are both suffering the cold hands and tools of techies they do not know. I think we should find virus creators and give them some viruses. Like Ebola. Or the plague. Please Josh from Staples! Be kind to Clarence.

Other than that, I’m not feeling much better. I think I might have sneezed bits of my brain out. Meeko’s been licking at the floor… maybe he’s trying to take over the world. I dunno. He’s sneaky. I’ve also not been as productive as I wanted, what with Clarence being out of commission. All of my term paper research is on there. Well, the major part of it.

I had to write realist fiction this week. Problem: I had no ideas. So I kind of recycled one of my old ones. Took some older characters, took an old conflict, gave it a little spit shine and voila! New short story, new situation. Hopefully it turns out okay. I haven’t tested the waters of gay fiction in my class yet.

Speaking of my Creative Writing class, this week we’re going to a book reading. As part of the assignment, my professor thought it would be fun to make us invite people. I asked if I could invite one of my imaginary friends. I wanted to bring Maggie. When I voiced that aloud, Maggie in my class got really excited. I had to set her straight… she was sad. After that, my prof told me that I had to bring a body. Maggie said she could bring a body. Anticipating our stupidity, my professor quickly added that it had to be a warm, living body.

So I asked one of my friends if she wanted to come. I was turned down on account of school work. I asked a few other people but got turned down because they were busy. I asked two rooms full of people at random. Turned down again until finally SARAH stepped up. Man, I have got to get myself a girlfriend just so I can have someone that I can forcefully drag or guilt into coming to this kind of function. So thanks a lot Prof C. You severely damaged my self esteem!

Back to work I go! I want to finish Survival in Auschwitz tonight. It was supposed to be done ages ago but I keep putting it on the back burner. I also have to read Dracula… stab me. HA!

In closing I just want to say, cold medicine makes me have MESSED UP dreams. MESSED UP!

Lauren

Little Brilliance, Lots of Bleh

I have caught a cold. I feel all fluey and bleh. I now join my father, sister and Meeko. The only one unaffected is my mom. Why during March? Of all the months I wasn’t sick and could afford to be. Why can’t we book sick time in which we are actually ill? Oh well...

I finished my sociology research today. I think I still might interview some teachers and stuff for additional little tidbits. I haven’t worked it all out yet, but so far, the essay is going to be on the benefits of creating a more inclusive curriculum and by extension, learning environment for LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) students. I may also touch on the positives of having openly gay teachers... haven’t decided yet.

Also, when I was still feeling human and not like a headachy ball of gelatinous ooze under a rock, I worked out my essay for 19th century lit essay. I know you’re all fascinated so I’m going to share. I’m particularly proud of myself. Over the years I’ve taken to looking at poetry like a riddle that you have to solve. Well, I was totally stumped by Christina Rossetti’s ‘At Home’. (I love Christina Rossetti by the way.) Since my essay is on representations of the “fallen woman” (a character that is close to non-existent in today’s society) I was labouring under the delusion that the poem was about women. I had an Oprah-approved “Aha! Moment” and now I’m claiming the speaker is watching men. So the essay is about how differing points of view affect the perception of the fallen woman. It’s much more brilliant than it sounds... I’m just all mucusey and that’s messing with the signals in my brain.

Homework and illness. Could I get more fascinating today?

Sorry guys. (crawls back under covers after loudly blowing nose).

Lauren.

Proof that Things Never Change

When I was in high school, probably around when I was fifteen, I was seeing a therapist. Probably the worst therapist I’ve seen to date, but I didn’t know that at the time. I spent our hour long session talking about how I didn’t feel like anyone could see me. About how my parents didn’t see me. I talked about being forgotten because my sister had no problem getting my parent’s attention. They always knew when she was having problems. With me, they’d just let me be. As if I could figure everything out on my own. Sixty minutes spent elaborating how I didn’t feel like I was important. And then the session ended. I walked out of the office, looked around for one of my parents and when I didn’t see them, I sat down. Maybe we’d let out a little early. I waited. And waited. And waited. Pretty soon another hour had gone by. I remember feeling so embarrassed and ashamed. My therapist was now sitting at the reception desk, watching me. We chatted a little between my calls to my mom, all of which went to voicemail. Finally, my mom showed up. She brought me home cursing my dad. When my dad finally got home, he told me he’d forgotten I was in therapy. I don’t remember either of them making it up to me, I don’t even remember if they so much as apologized.

That happened on a Monday. I can almost hear you saying, “Lauren, how could you possibly remember that it was a Monday?” Well, in an attempt to make things easier on my parents and myself, I made sure my appointments were every second Monday. I did that for roughly two, maybe three months before this incident.

I think that’s the day that irony became my absolute favourite literary element.

Today went much the same as that day only I’m nearly six years older. I had a meeting today. I’d known about it since Tuesday. I told my parents, I put a Post It in the front hall (where it still is actually), it was impossible to miss. I even told my parents again the night before. My sister who is barely home knew about it. I was told repeatedly that I would have a ride. This morning, my mom took the car to work, feeling that her independence was slipping away now that my sister has started driving. I woke up at ten o’clock, thankful that I’d at last had a goodnight sleep. Except now I didn’t have a ride and with an hour before the meeting, there was no way I was going to catch a bus. Could I have cabbed it? Yeah, I could have, except I started to think. The last time I took a cab to school for a meeting, the meeting started early, was over by the time I got there and I’d wasted my money. What if this meeting only lasted twenty minutes? And then I thought some more. Why the hell should I pay for a cab because someone else screwed up?!

This was the wrong move. I called my mom at work with the intention of explaining the situation. When she was totally not helpful and not the least apologetic, I dropped a few “f” bombs and spoke much louder than I should have. She hung up on me. Which given the circumstance, is actually understandable.

Finally she got home and I restrained myself. I let her change and get away from the day before going downstairs to talk about it. And I talked. I didn’t yell or swear for that matter. Somehow, I ended up being partially to blame, I received a hollow half-apology and the whole thing was chalked up to a miscommunication.

I would have gladly walked to the bus stop. I don’t care if my mom wants to take the car. It’s her car. She could have told me she was taking it so I could get up on time to get to where I had to be. She deserves her independence, but why did mine have to suffer?

Got to love the bullshit.

PS: the excuse about forgetting is lame and I am so over it.

Angry, frustrated, trapped, Lauren.

The Story of the Codpiece

I AM EXCITED! One of my friends scared me into thinking that I didn’t have enough credits for my English degree. It’s the bizarre complicated system of pre-requisites and categorization that scares every student. There’s intro English, there’s Brit Lit, then you have to have so many credits of British lit if you’re single majoring and so many group 1, 2 or 3 credits. It’s messed. It takes me like an hour and a half to plot out my courses every year just to ensure that I have the right classes, that’s not even making sure they fit into my time table. But I discovered two things tonight.

1. I DO INDEED HAVE ENOUGH CREDITS! YAY FOR THE CREEPY CHART I MADE THAT I NO LONGER UNDERSTAND!


2. I was forced to cruise around my university’s website tonight and I found that for my honours seminar in history there’s a THIRD REICH class! Of course that’s in history and it may not be offered next year, but I WANT IN! For English there’s a 19th Century one. I also want in, but less enthusiastically than for history.

Okay. So that’s my scary yelling for one day. I also had my placement today and got to introduce/review for the Shakespeare unit. I was told it went well. Given that I was kind of nervous, I’m going to take my host teacher’s word on that. I learned that comedy is important and that being able to make movie references on the spot is a must.

First came the movie references. Colin Firth was in Shakespeare in Love and not Ella Enchanted. Carry Elwes was the guy in Ella Enchanted. Apparently Carry Elwes was also in the Notebook. I had to give them that one since I still haven’t seen the Notebook.

Cary

Colin

After that I was explaining the secondary function of Victorian clothing. Here’s today’s word of the day: farthingale. It’s the crazy hooped skirt that makes your hips look huge. I was talking about how the bigger your hips are the more babies you were thought able to have. Then I just had to mention that my grandmother had once paid me that very compliment.

As with most things involving my grandparents, the compliment was pretty random. I was standing still or walking toward her, then she randomly came out with, “You have good hips for having babies”. That one is only secondary to my grandfather’s compliment that “I could be a bouncer”. I’m assuming that it was a compliment meaning that I can take care of myself and not an insult meaning I’m bulky and lacking in femininity. Oh, comments from the elderly.
I cannot tell you how glad I was that they didn’t ask me what I codpiece was. Although once I stupidly mentioned that, the one kid I actually knew from high school saw fit to ask me. Talk about a head desk moment.

I told him the following: You know how swim team guys are rumoured to stuff? That’s what it is.

I shall add an image just in case. I think the reasoning behind this particular item of clothing is self explanatory.

I hope you all enjoyed that. I certainly did.

Lauren.

Fried

Ugh... today can only be described in one word, and I’m going to make up that word: Hitler-friggin’-rific. There, now it’s a word. I do not understand how people hung out with Hitler when he was alive... ‘cause I hung out with him all day today and I’ve had my fill. Throw in Mussolini and you’ve got yourself a fascist party! Pun intended. On days like these I regret taking two classes so closely related.

I think the midterms went well though. I was able to answer everything, I finished, all good signs. I don’t know when I’ll find out how I did but it’s over with. Thank God. With this out of the way, I only really have things to hand in at the end of the month. So... research-a-thon has already begun. Blech...

I am so looking forward to the weekend at this point. I woke up this morning with the sun glaring in my eyes. I hissed at it. When I was brushing my teeth, I noticed a giant hair stuck in my toothbrush. So I’m just tired and not really up to writing a particularly entertaining post today. My brain is totally fried. No more thinking. At least not until I read Goblin Market. Then no more thinking.

Lauren.

Learn faster dammit!

Hello Bloggy people!

I can't write much today. I'm afraid that with the coming of March work has piled up. Tomorrow I have two midterms to write. Dang that history prof! I have the same prof for two classes. I can't be mad though, he is a fantastic professor. I just finished reading over my notes for Holocaust history, no doubt the equivalent of a novel. Tomorrow during my five hour break between classes I'm going to read over my fascism notes. Then I'm going to pray. St. Jude is a personal fave.

Wish me luck! And if you have any credibility with any divine force, would you mind horribly putting in a good word?

My learning cap

Well, off with my learning cap for today. I must away to bed.

PS: Giant spaces are because I had to go fix the HTML myself and I haven't fiddled with HTML in years... stupid computers...

Lauren.

The Mystery Solved

I’m kind of anxious to get to bed tonight. It hasn’t been the most wonderful day an I’m very much wanting to put a close to it. It wasn’t anything major, just the usual really. I didn’t sleep well and nothing really goes right when you’re tired. My lunch was lacklustre, my supper exploded all over my back pack, smelled revolting and I didn’t end up eating it. So, tired and hungry makes Lauren cranky. Plus, I swear my bag weighed somewhere around 35 pounds today.

I did however find something to puzzle over. We were presenting our “in our voice” pieces tonight. Most people read stories that had happened to them. One girl who went up was discussing the topic of believing and not believing. She talked about not believing in love, friendship, trust, all the big ones. I didn’t really think twice about it. When she said she didn’t believe in make-believe and magic, that stuck with me. She explained that she does believe in things, just that her belief has changed and that it’s fluid. It’s weird for me because I’ve always believed in magic and make-believe and I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I mean, I’m going on twenty one soon. If I haven’t grown to hate or even doubt it yet, I don’t think I will. And I don’t want to. I think more people have to keep believing in magic.

Anyway, on to a topic I brought up the other day. Rocky Mountain Oysters. They are in fact bull testicles. So... if I’m correct in assuming, I think Dreamfarm Girl had alluded to something of that nature. Why is this important? Because I’m introducing another conversation I had at work.

Ed: Are you hungry tonight Lauren? (He always asks if I’m hungry, it’s so nice.)

Lauren: A little bit.

Ed: What do you want?

Lauren: Whatever you feel like cooking. (I hate making a fuss)

[long pause. Ed was doing something at one end of the kitchen; I was washing dishes at the other.]

Ed: So, you want to try some rocky mountain oysters?

[I already knew what they were so, haha! he wasn’t going to get me on that one.]

Lauren: Uh... no thanks.

Ed: You know that’s bull testicles right? You don’t want to eat cow balls?

Lauren: On the other hand... that’s probably the closest balls are ever going to get to my mouth.


The conversation kind of closed there because we both started laughing. I don’t think he was expecting me to say that and honestly, I still can’t believe that I did. For anyone who didn’t know, there are a lot of penis and sex jokes exchanged in the kitchen. I don’t think my place of work is an isolated case either.

Well, now that I’ve shared that proud moment with you, I’m off to bed.

Lauren.