And Now, Let's Talk About Me Some More

I just didn't feel like the content of this post would mesh well with the contents of the previous. So here they are, two in one day, when usually I'm lucky to get 5 in a whole month.

I've run out of pants. They all have holes, these holes have been stitched up, and now the stitched bits are falling apart. Other just don't fit anymore, which makes sense, they're throwbacks I've been keeping around since my high school days. But this is becoming a very serious problem. Usually one pair of jeans works as the bottom half of my wardrobe for two weeks - now I have nothing. I pulled out some old capris that gloriously still fit, so every sunny day you can find my running about in green clam diggers. But what to do on gloomy, rain-threatening spring days such as today?

The answer, it turns out, is to dress up. While Jessica was visiting earlier this month, we went on a failed pants-shopping trip that ended with me purchasing an inappropriately thick, professionally chic skirt and classy heels. The weather was nice, and I doubted this ensemble would see the light of day before next December.

So I wore it today. I stayed warm despite the weather, despite the open air between my legs and the skirt. Also, my roommates wished me luck on my presentation, and on campus people asked if I had an interview later. What could I say? I told them the sad truth. I'm out of pants.

After finals I'm going shopping, come Hell or high water.

Also, last night at Boundary Bay, I pulled off a moment of rare genius. Kenny's got an ex-girlfriend that we love to hate, so when she approached our table to say hello and chat, I turned my face away to the others across the table. Holding my hands up to the side of my face, "Hey guys, which impressionistic painting am I??" and then contorted my face into the grisliest scream I could muster.

When I turned back she was gone.

A Long Lifetime

I turned 21 recently. Although I've been living it up ever since, consistently ordering beers and margaritas with my meals, I've also been haunted by a painful reality:

I am not a child anymore.

This is a fact that most people are quick to recognize; they fight for that truth to arrive and fake it if it hasn't. But our society lacks a clear definition for the difference between child and adult. It used to be when a girl had her period she became a woman. Now, not even losing your virginity guarantees that transformation. Some nations send their boys on spirit quests - if you survive, welcome back sir.

Our lines between the two descriptions have blurred. At 18, I went off to college. I ceased to have a curfew, I spent weeks without talking to my parents, and my educational success became entirely up to me. However, my parents still paid my bills, sent me money when I became broke, and called up and lectured my brother when we fought. How could that possibly be described as the circumstances of adulthood?

But I think I'm there now. School is getting hard. It requires more energy of me, energy that I'm not willing to give. But I give it anyway. Money is becoming a serious concern. I'll be working two jobs this summer, with any luck. I went on a road trip this weekend and realized that no one back home knew I had left.

The biggest sign, however, was that no one coddled me when I went to the emergency room Monday morning. And rather than feeling abandoned or unloved, I was glad for the space. I relished the time alone I had to deal with reality.

So there it is. I'm not a child anymore. I am an adult, I am responsible for myself, and I am glad to have finally arrived.

Sap

Hormones? Wuss? What? All I know is that I'll cry at the drop of a hat.

Reading an article for my management class, they mention a company that awards its top employees with a prize of their choice, worth up to $10,000.

"It's another thing when, in addition to public recognition of your performance, you receive a college tuition fund for your child, or the Harley-Davidson motorcycle you've always dreamed of, or -- the prize everyone at the company still talks about -- the airline tickets to fly you and your family back to Mexico to visit the grandmother you haven't seen in ten years."

Yep, teary-eyed. And in public.

Not Chuck Norris Yet

I always thought I was a decently bendy person. I mean, I can't do the splits, but I feel like I'm not in the minority here.
Yeah, well, kicking in my martial arts class today taught me that not only am I a crippled old woman, but that my balance is shit, too.
Time to start practicing the splits.

Also, there are other things going on in my life besides my attempts to become Bruce Lee. They're just not as fun to think about.

I Know Kung-Fu

Okay, really, I don't. But last night was my first martial arts lesson and it was GREAT. There were only five other students, so it wasn't reminiscent of being a soldier in one man's (well, woman actually) personal army. The other new kid in class was actually a very large, very strong black man. We were partnered up so we wouldn't hold the other students back, and trust me, if you're a short little girl versus a very large man, holding a pad between you and his kicking shin is not much of a reassurance. Also, he had to kneel down so my "high" kick would actually connect.
Of course this morning I skipped class to sleep in. My left arm especially is complaining about the abuse, so I think I'll take a few Tylenol and a very hot shower before going on with my day.

Levelling the Status Quo

Also, Mission: Super! is one step closer. Nick and I now have a Very High musical compatibility.

Exceptions

It's 12:30 on a Thursday night. Most of Bellingham is out at the bars, or playing beer pong with friends in someone's garage. I'm not among them. Instead, I've settled onto the couch in the living room, my textbook and notes and computer and calculator sprawled in a mess at my feet. There's a cup of Kenny's Signature Coffee, strong enough to hold a coffee stirrer upright, nestled precariously over my practice exams. My studio headphones, second hand from an older brother, are plugged into my laptop. Bob Seger tells me about his night moves while I attempt to figure out statistics. It's not fun, not by any stretch of the definition, but it's oddly satisfying. This is an evening that I will look back on and be glad that I experienced it.
Now if only I could stop losing my goddamn eraser every time I set it down.

Likes, Not Dislikes

I like to pick my scabs, and poke my bruises, and in general complain about my hurts and aches. Unfortunately, I don't bruise easily, nor do I skateboard/ rock climb/ do any activity that might result in lots of scrapes.
Which is why I am really excited about the results from this weekend's party. Bruises on my legs and back, scabs on my left arm, and sore butt muscles from all that table dancing (oh yes, I'm now a hoochie mama). I just picked the arm scab here in the coffee house, then smeared the blood a little across my arm before wiping it away and letting it bead up again. SO SATISFYING.
Probably the best part is that I'm doing this while dressed in my fanciest of fancy digs for a presentation later this afternoon.

Keeping Busy

For the last two weeks or so, I've been trying to get my music compatibility with my roommate on last.fm up to Super. In order to do this, I've been listening to whatever shows up as a top artist on his profile. It hasn't paid off yet - we're still only High - but give me time. It's going to happen.

Too Sunny to Stay Inside

I guess my New Year's resolution to stop being mean and negative and bitter has paid off. I personally haven't felt a change (besides a sudden shying-away from that behavior in others). But yesterday, a friend of mine was having a particularly bad one. She called me up so we could go hang out at the beach, wading in the water and picking up dead crabs, all that sort of stuff. Before we left her house, though, she smiled and said that she was glad she'd called, because she needed someone cheerful and upbeat to be around her.
She was talking about me! Who knew!
Anyway, speaking of friends, the girl I'm talking about is Sharron. You might (or might not) remember how when I first met her two years ago I was convinced she and I would only be casual acquaintances. I'm really glad I was wrong.

Pardon Me, But...

I find that people who make sweeping comments about any one genre of music to be rather ignorant. There's good and bad to all of it, just because you didn't like what you were exposed to doesn't mean it applies to everything.
In general, can we please stop with all the negativity? Lately I've been trying to be more upbeat and positive, but it's hard to keep that in mind when everyone around you is trying to bring each other down. Now, I'm not talking about major girl-drama, or backstabbing, or anything really serious like that. Just in general, I'd like to see less criticism and more props.
Also, I'd like to let you all know that the treelet now has a name. Please welcome Spruce Springsteen to the family! Pictures will be up soon.

Chilly

It's late Saturday, early Sunday. I'll be getting up to run my first 5k in few hours, so I took it easy tonight. The roomies and I, we went to a house party. I danced on a table and made a few friends, but mostly I was hot, sticky, and sober. Now I'm curled on the couch, toes dug under the cushions to keep them warm, and texting some kids named Thor and Taylor who went bowling. I don't know them, but they got Nick's phone number from somewhere, and it's fun to pretend to be a 16 year old black girl.

Refusing to Run

It's mid-April and it's snowing.
This is ridiculous
I've been sympathizing with all those folks in Utah and the other flatland states, with their constant and never-ending blizzarding. But damn, I didn't think it would happen here too!
And I just know that when I drive the van to work later, that little rock chip that's been taunting me with it's nonrepaired-state is going to turn into a nasty crack.
Last night, for some reason that made perfect sense at the time but I cannot guess at now, I convinced one of my coworker's friends to give me his jacket. I gave him a smaller one and tried to sell it off as bigger and better. ... I should probably give it back and apologize, but it's too ridiculously funny right now. I woke myself up laughing about it this morning.

Yummy

11:30, I walk into Nick's room, keys in hand and coat on. "Get your shoes on, we're going to Haggen."
So began the midnight waffle adventure.
Nothing is quite as wonderful as standing around the kitchen late at night, waiting for your banana waffle to cook so you can cover it in chocolate syrup and whipped cream before digging in. Nothing except maybe the prospect of banana waffles for breakfast, too.

My Future

Today was Tiana's presentation on NGO's. First, it was lots of fun helping her cook the food and set up for the presentation. Second, wow. She did a great job. She went over all the administration details of setting up an NGO and keeping it going. It was excellent information, from the specifics about how to apply for a 501(c)3 to tips about fundraising.
I realize I have a long way to go before I can start thinking about setting up one of my own. But knowing the basic process is a first step. The next step, in the next year or two, will be to get a job with an already established NGO. As a student, I've always thought of my career in abstract terms. Now the reality is coming up, and I'm getting very excited about the prospects.

Double-Take

The Environmental Science building is notoriously ugly and stupid. Huge brightly colored tubes and vents run through the middle of the building while the hallways are treacherously crammed with fossils and models of Chuckanut Ridge. (Actually, I like these features, even if they are annoying.) They didn't even bother putting bathrooms on every floor.
That last reason is why I always stop off on the 2nd floor before going to my class on the 4th. Before, I've always noticed that there were some oddly placed chairs in the women's restroom. I realize that chairs and couches are typical of really nice restrooms, but they're usually placed in a small, quiet lounge outside the actual toilet area. Not so with the ES building. They're cheap chairs, the kind that can be found all over Western's campus, and they're right next to the sinks. Today, when I entered, there was a group of 4 girls chilling in the chairs and having a casual conversation about one of their friends.
I have to ask. Obviously Western was trying too hard to be sophisticated when they put the chairs in. But why would anyone hang out where they're constantly hearing other people peeing or (God forbid) taking a dump? Seriously guys. Ew.

Power Doesn't Run on Nothing - The Thermals

"they'll give us what we're asking for,
cause god is with us, and our god's the richest
our power doesn't run on nothing,
it runs on blood,
and blood is easy to obtain when you have no shame"

It seemed appropriate, considering it distracted me from my readings about international business and how to treat other cultures.

My endless search for the perfect combination of papers and folders to get me through classes is going in circles. I thought I had finally found the solution. A cardboard 3-ring binder, with folder inserts, and blank paper to take notes. The papers could easily be rearranged to fit in with the printout notes my professors seem so keen on this quarter. But it's not going to work. One, a 3-ring binder takes up way too much desk space compared to a spiral notebook, especially when you consider that so many of my classes are theater-style setups. Then, to my horror, after buying the binder, I realized that the damn thing barely even fits in my backpack.
But of course the spiral notebook plan isn't working out so well. Again, the printouts. Every quarter I struggle with too many papers for the small folders provided in the notebooks. They end up falling out, breaking the seems, and making the notebook bulge so much that the covers fall off.
I tried having individual folders for each class, and using those along with the notes in my spirals. But why would I keep two sets of notes for each class? I nixed that idea within two days.
I'll give the binder the benefit of the doubt and use it tomorrow. If it doesn't work, I'm shifting back to the familiar yet still pain in the ass bulging notebooks.

Such a Girl

Absolutely heartbreaking. I teared up while reading the parent's testimonial.

"We had a long/tough season last year. Saturday made up for everything. I want to sincerely thank you for making Saturday so unbelievable. It was like a birthday, Christmas, and New Years Eve captured in a few amazing hours. "

Tuey's 21st birthday today, so at midnight we drove to Haggen, bought some beers, and shotgunned them out on the balcony.



Cheers!

ISTJ

I just took the Keirsy Temperament Sorter for my management type. I am the Madame Pince librarian/ Freaks and Geeks PE teacher type. "Often this type seem to have ice in their veins."

And just like that my life has been proven worthless. Maybe I can convince Kenny to poison my portion of dinner tonight.