I'm embarrassed

So as I am sick again I went to the school doctor, which in itself, is exciting. All is fine and dandy, fill out a few forms etc and voila ...I'm in the doctor room, check up, clinic room things. You know that place...oh, examination room - yes, that's it. Anyways, so she checks out my throat which apparently is in very bad condition, her exact words are "inflamed, red, with white spots"...And I get a prescription. All is well until she asks me a few more questions, just to help fill out my medical history.

" What's your family medical history?" "Blah Blah Blah"
"Have you had any surgeries?" "Blah Blah"
" Are you sexually active?" "Cough, gasp" Sad look - "No"
"Have you ever been?" embarrassed look - "No"
Puzzled look from Doctor...And that's it.

I'm a virgin...At eighteen and that makes me a freak. I don't think the doctor believed me. I don't know if I would have believed me. And for some strange reason I'm embarrassed by this fact.

It doesn't really help that after the appointment I ranted to Erin, who decided it would be a good idea to scream in the middle of the student centre "SO WHAT YOU'VE NEVER HAD SEX"...More embarrassment.

Which leads me to a paradox - I'm glad I'm a virgin and I know I'm in the right but...I'm slightly ashamed of my virginity in face of a society where having sex is the biggest, best and most important thing ever.

***on a side note - the kids in that picture look 13! I bet they can't even spell abstinence***

Crazy Glue Anyone? Putting the Pieces Back Together

Well it has been a week since I have returned home and the process of pulling my life back together continues. Todays Edition: Laundry Day.

Now, I think its fairly common for one to dread laundry day and I am certainly no exception. My wonderful building along with its charming slanted floors and non-existant elevator, has not a laundry room. This poses some difficulties.

Suppose someone who shall remain nameless...waits until the very last moment to do her laundry. The very last moment, being in the world of undergarment hierarchy, the day when she has to wear a thong. So this person, now wearing a thong against her will and better judgement has to procure other articles of clothing so that she can drag all her articles of clothing down four flights of stairs and down the street a bit and into the laundry mat without getting arrested. So she ends up looking like a hobo, doing laundry.

Now back to that bit of dragging things down stairs...this is fun...really - it really really is fun. Still don't believe me? Good. I was lying.

I...I mean she...has to put her clothing, after sorting it, into bags. A Price Chopper Bag for her undergarments and socks, a black garbage bag for everything considered "dark" and a duffel bag for whites and lights + her purse with laundry detergent and fabric softener and dryer sheets and her poli sci text book in it.

All this, down the stairs.

Well today I, of course meaning she, was creative. And by creative I mean full of destructive tendencies. She...oh I give up...I threw the garbage bag full of clothes down the full four flights of stairs, which is just as much fun as you would think it would be. I was tired of carrying that blasted bag, and its not like it contained anything breakable so I tossed, it fell and was waiting for me when I caught up with it.

Now, one thing about laundry mats is that generally speaking they come equipped with a creepy middleaged man - the kind that likes to stare at young thangs. Today, of course, was no exception. Luckily, I got through this ordeal without him trying to communicate with me or sniffing my said undergarments. He did stare though. Ick.

Well laundry takes long and its good to have it home and clean and folded...not put away but thats evidently for another time.

Unfortunately, laundry has a terrible habit of coming back. Laundry is never done - the clothes I am wearing are now considered in need of wash...which means I have laundry to do and I always will. How awful. This most be how nudism started - someone fed up with always having laundry to do. Hmmm, interesting.

Afraid

I don't know what's wrong with me, I don't know if anyone else is feeling like this but as my first night back in my apartment alone - I'm afraid to go to sleep.

Everytime I hear someone in the hallway or a loud noise or a siren my pulse quickens and I get so afraid. I also had two major fears, the first was my residence being on fire and the second was having someone break in. One down.

I really don't know how I will sleep tonight. I'm waiting to hear someone pound on my door or running in the hallways or something...

This whole experience has left me feeling helpless and empty and very tired and lost. I am so far behind in my school work and house work that I'm overwhelmed and very unsure of what to do first and what to do with myself.

Dave was here today and helped me do some dishes. This helped. But its like I can't function. I was never so scared in my life last Tuesday.

I thought that everything I owned was going to be gone, I thought that my life was over. I'm still in shock of seeing the building on fire...I still have that image in my head. I'm still nauseated.

The Sad Aftermath in Sepia and B&W

Tuesday

Just when you think you've got life figured out it sends you a curve ball...or in this case a fire ball. On tuesday night after I had gone to the movies with Colleen, after I was tucked into bed and almost naked, just before I was saying my goodnights...someone starts pounding on the door - "GET OUT OF THE BUILDING!"...and my pulse starts to race. I can't decide whether to ignore my possibly drunk neighbours or to heed their warning. I decide on the side of safety and grab that days clothes, my keys and my cell phone and leave my apartment.

I smell smoke. I tell Dave I'll call him back.

I run downstairs, someone tells me the church is on fire. I try to call Colleen.

I see Colleen at the bottom of the stairs and run to her, grab onto her arm and we walk/run/escape outside.

I look up and see something like this.
I start to panic and I remember being at a loss for words but not for thoughts. I was thinking "there goes my life, I'm going to have nothing, everything I have is going to burn away, I'm going to have to drop out of University, I will have nothing" - but my mouth was just saying "Oh my God" over and over.

At this point I start to hyperventalate. The fire looks like its going to spread, my apartment building is only ten feet away from the flames. We can feel the heat of the fire on our faces. I can't watch this anymore. I can't watch my life burn away.I wonder what I looked like at that moment - because Colleen and Jocelyn pulled me away and took me to another building. I dont remember walking there. I just remember showing up. No one has pulled the fire alarm yet.
I remember calling my parents, buddy picking up the phone and saying that I can't talk to them - they were sleeping. Due to stress I kind of freaked out and said YOU CAN WAKE THEM UP MY BUILDINGS ON FIRE! And he immediately gave my Dad the phone.
He told me everything would be okay - a reacurring theme from Dave and my Dad and Colleen and Jocelyne - which was good because I was convinced it wasnt going to be.

After we were all taken to the basement of GRH where we were given candy and water and tylenol to keep us calm. It kind of remands a blur where I was just scared.

Eventually we were sorted out to sleep at Erin's that night while other students were being shipped to the Holiday Inn.

The night at Erin's was restless. I sat in the living room and watched the fire till 4am when I finally couldn't watch anymore. I went to sleep.
When I awoke I watched some more. It was impossible to look away knowing that my house was right there and I couldn't tell what had become of it. When Dave called me that morning as we talked I continued to stare into the space that once was occupied by the church - the steeple still stood and I watched as a piece fell off.
After that I just wanted to see my building but at the same time feared that more than anything. I didnt want to walk around the corner and see blackened walls, chunks of my apartment missing etc. When I first saw the church though my breath was taken away. It was gone.

Later on in the day we were told that our apartments should be fine but we can't go home just yet. They were worried about the church building collapsing onto ours and because of this at two o'clock we were given 20 minutes to rush in and grab whatever belongings we needed to sustain us for un indeterminate amount of time.

So we made a plan: Laura and Erin and Scott would help us - Laura would come with me and Erin would go with Colleen. We had our list of belongings and would grab while the other packed.
To say this went well would be an understatement. We were out in just over 10 minutes and Colleen had enough stuff with her for a very very long time.

Soon the bus arrived and off we went. We went to the Holiday Inn, struggled to drag our possessions to the hotel room and promptly collapsed. The last day and a half had been an emotional rollarcoaster and we were tired.

We put on our pajamas, and went to bed. At 3:30pm.

We didn't move till dinner when we had milkshakes - all we could stomach. The University set us up that we could have $10 a meal and we would have to pay the difference. We were well taken care off.

The next few days are a blur. I have just returned home and I'm so grateful everything is okay. We are still tired, but releaved. Our home is safe and we are safe at home.

The Post That Was Eighteen Years In the Making

Have you heard of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs? If you haven't it is essentially "Maslow's hierarchy of needs is often depicted as a pyramid consisting of five levels: the four lower levels are grouped together as deficiency needs associated with physiological needs, while the top level is termed growth needs associated with psychological needs. While our deficiency needs must be met, our being needs are continually shaping our behaviour. The basic concept is that the higher needs in this hierarchy only come into focus once all the needs that are lower down in the pyramid are mainly or entirely satisfied. Growth forces create upward movement in the hierarchy, whereas regressive forces push prepotent needs further down the hierarchy." - Wikipedia.

Thanks to a high school teacher I know of this theory and can create my post with a scientific basis. But before this I tell you a tale of how I once was...

Not so many moons ago I was a high schooler. In grade nine I adored high school, straightened my hair everyday to attrack the male species especially one unfortunately named Mark Billington (he was English okay?) and generally got 70s. In grade ten I stopped straightening my hair, met a new best friend, become obnoixiously and defencively Christian and got 90s, while suffering from low self esteem due to lack of male species. Oh and I started dressing slightly punk but more on that later. In grade eleven I was my own cool, suffered horribly in piano, tried to continue an aire of possibly punk yet lovely got 80s and stopped being miserable about boys - because I found one. In grade 12 I was moody, pessimistic, got 90s, skipped class, fought the system, attempted fashionable grace, dated seriously, caused as much trouble I could without retribution in the scholastic system and worked my face off to get to University while things became more tense living with my parents.

Then Self-Actualization - University.

I don't know about you but University has been the best thing yet. Its like all of high school was this awful period of bad makeup, bad hair, experimenting with my personality, indecision, rebellion and general grumpiness against everything repressing me from post-secondary education. And now the curtain lifts on me...this is me world...forget that awful high school persona - this is the me that has struggled through four years to become...this.

And for the first time in my life I love...this. This thing - me. I love my life.

I see high school was not a waste of time, no it was a testing ground for the me of today. All those extracurriculars? Choir, Newspaper, Radio, Speeches, Reach for the Top etc gave birth to my new life of extracurriculars - Journalism guild, Radio and being a Big Sister. Those subjects that I loved and high school and those I deplored have rearranged themselves to create nothing - and I leave them to pursue the wonders of Journalism - a subject I adore with such verocity that well ...I used the word verocity for. And politics! My calling! No longer do I want to do music journalism - but politics, the intriguing world of handshakes and backstabbing and power suits! (My love of fashion that once prompted me to be a lawyer - till I realized we have to wear those GODFORSAKEN robes )

And the teachers I loved and tried to cultivate a relationship with, particulary my music teacher who always seemed quasi interested in me - who I tried desperately to please to no avail and who I proudly told I QUIT to, well who needs them? I have professors! - whose knowledge reaches the level of doctor and those who do not but I admire endlessly and I can talk to and relate to and chat with - screw music teachers - I have journalism teachers who i please without trying. Wunderbar. And fellow students who hate math as much as me. HA!

Besides my academic sides, my personality is who I was trying to be for four years. I dress elegantly, I have cut my hair shorter and dyed it dark brown, I throw fancy dress parties in my apartment, I still adore and attempt art, I go to the gallery, I work at a fine theatre, I watch art films and documentaries, yet I'm still goofy, silly and cynical - my favourite combination.

I cook fairly well, I enjoy my coffee and newspapers daily. I revel in those moments where I catch myself encapsulating everything I ever wanted to be: me in the street, good hair day, outfit consisting of funky jewellery and nice outfit (today six strands of fake pearls, a black blazer over a black sweater, blue jeans and black leather heels and perhaps my favourite accessory - a ring from my boyfriend who loves me impeccably) going for coffee, after a meeting about the radio event I'm helping to set up, with my Toronto Star in my purse and a moment to rest before heading to the library.

I am attempting self-actualization. And some days I'm pretty damn close.

Leaving behind high school, family, friends has let myself grow into well, myself. Of course there are growing pains - missing those I left, and trying to perfect those relationships from a distance, those moments when my apartment is a hazard zone (like right now) and trying to live within my means - but I'm getting there. And I will continue to get there.

A slight nuggle in my plan...I love my new self but will my old friends and family? That adaptation is interesting and will be attempted with grace but might not go swimmingly - but alas they can either love me or leave me. Perhaps that is the most important revelation in the attempt of self-actualization.

Blond Hair Dye PopStar Infatuation

While watching the unfortunately titled Access Hollywood: 10 Stars Undiscovered Before They Were Famous Last Ten Years Show of Holiday Anniversary Special or something like that, I was transported (mentally not like beam me up scotty) to a few years back when I was...*SHOCK* a teeny bopper. This was, in hindsite, the most disgusting time of my life because I liked popstars. Do you remember when you were once in love with a popstar? Be it Justin or Lance, Brian or Nick, the fat one from 98 Degrees or the one from Nsync (NSync, 'Nsync, N'sync, NSYNC, N*Sync) you were [I was] infatuated. You knew JUST KNEW that YOU were the chosen one, you would be the mere peasent who would cross over to the celebrity side and marry the famous one. You would be the one with a television special on your fairytale romance, you would walk down the aisle and see the face of Oprah in the crowd, you would guest star on ... Martha Stewart Living.

Then Justin dated Britney, Nick dated Jessica and the dream slowly vanished for many...but not you. Justin would come around, you just knew it...just waiting for that fateful moment when you are dating a celebrity and life is beautiful. And you waited...depending on your sanity or lack there of you kept waiting.

Or perhaps you were a celebrity crush whore - one day your in love with Nick, the next your sure your solemate is Brian. Perhaps you switched to the B-List loves like Ashley Angel (oooooh lol) or maybe became infatuated with half of Westlife (Bryan McFadden, Kian Egan and Mark Feehily) but really who does that?...cough cough.

Then one day it clicked; your not going to marry Prince William. Even if you do go to St. Andrews University in Scotland and work out a lot and practice balancing books on your head (you can stop laughing now) you will not become Queen. Or even Princess Holly - err, I mean Princess InsertYourNameHere. This was a sad day. You realize your dreams don't come true. You will not be Cinderella, there is no Prince Charming and at this very second in time happily ever after is not looking too good.

And Justin Timberlake is engaged to Cameron Diaz.
The end.

Famousity...is that a word?

It seems that almost every Canadian city has its token famous person; quick example Brantford and Wayne Gretzky. So it leaves me to ponder about those cities, towns, villages that are completely and utterly famous personless - how do they cope without a sign saying HOME OF INSERT NAME HERE? Are they depressed? Do they spend years training rigiouresly their sons and daughters to become something great? Does the Mayor often cry himself to sleep at night? What a sad place to live.

I have found the list of the TOP 20 Famous Canadians

The top five for 2003 were Avril Lavigne, Pam Anderson, Romeo Daillire (Hotel Rwanda Real Life Person), Shania Twain and Nelly Furtado.

That is depressing. Here is my list -

CANADIAN STARS I AM ACTUALLY PROUD OF AND DON'T WANT TO SEND TO UTAH (in no particular order)

1. Keanu Reeves (the Matrix, Constantine, really really good looking)
2. Barenaked Ladies (If I Had a Million Dollars and those other funny songs)
3. Bryan Adams (I like him because he's really famous but if I have to hear Summer of '69 one more time he's gettin his ass shipped to Utah)
4. Neil Young (classic)
5. The Guess Who
6. Bachman Turner Overdrive
7. Leonard Cohen
8. Dan Akroyd
9. Samuel Goldwyn (of MGM)
10. Peter Jennings (BOO YA)
11. Todd McFarland (comic books, owns an island)
12. Leslie Nielsen
13. Alex Trebek
14. Mike Myers
15. Dave Foley
16. Scott Thomson
17. Brantford's own Phil Hartman

Things I Find Weird Before 10 am

(the oh so famous eggman)

1. My mother called me during the hour of 9 when I was still sleeping to inform me that possibly one of my old high school teachers had been arrested for sexual assault after a long investigation. I immediatly thought I knew who it was and I won't say here but if its not him I will be surprised. He always was chatting up the volleyball girls and never actually paying attention to class - you know that thing he was teaching. But I never honestly thought it was more than gross flirtation - which reminds me that even though I am pessimistic I am still nieve at times. People you know do bad things. Like Jann Arden's brother - I don't know him but I found out yesterday he is in jail for murder. On to number 2.
2. I live in Brantford, not a huge glitz pull here but I kind of was taken back when I found out that Wayne Gretzky's mothers funeral was going to be at the same church I do nursery in on Sundays. The one I would be able to see from here if there wasn't you know like a wall there. It shouldn't be that surprising really - its well known that Gretzky is from Brantford but at 9:47 am it just seems strange.

Partisan

I'm not partisan - I think they are all idiots.
Only 49 days till election night!

Our Balls Are Bigger - Canadian Football

I don't like football - except if its soccer but I am damn proud that Laurier won the Vanier Cup. Way to go Golden Hawks; I didn't even know we were good till we beat everyone in Ontario. Then everyone in Canada. So yeah for the team! Caaa CAHHHH! (By the way what's with me going to schools with birds as mascots? Brennan Cardinals! Tweet tweet! Wilfrid Laurier Golden Hawks Caa CAHHHH!)

We Win! See it here!

Laurier is...!

I SWEAR ON THIS ELECTION

Simple: if the liberals get a majority government after this Janurary 23rd election I am moving to Australia!

Reasons

1. Australia has lower taxes
2. A dollar comparable to the Canadian dollar
3. More vacation time
4. Free university for residents
5. Summer - all the time
6. Still part of the commonwealth
7. Didn't vote the freaking liberals in again
8. Australians aren't retarded like those who vote in the liberals after the sponsorship scandal!

We shall see my destiny sealed on January 23rd.

http://www.immi.gov.au/

At the end of my rope...

16 days, 10 hours, 37 minutes and 3 seconds...2 seconds...1 second...

The countdown has begun till exams are over and it can't be soon enough. I love University - honestly and truly I do but my god I will be a happy camper when this is done. I am so sick of my profs and my courses and my textbooks and crazy syllabuses and projects and midterms and more midterms and assignments and everything that if this semester doesn't end soon I will be very very - sad.

But it is almost done. I must remember this...its almost over. A good mantra really - university is almost done...for now.

While we are at it I am sick of this day as well. It's only 1:26 but I don't like it so far. I'm tired. And grumpy. So there.

I've been a lot of both lately. I'm sorry. I'm going to stop blabbering now.

Buh bye.

Frozen Toes and Melting Heart (CHEESE)

I went to the Santa Claus Parade tonight to write an article. Then I started to cry. I have been so mushy lately; quite ridiculous.

I started thinking that I was alone at the Santa Claus Parade. The last time to a parade I went I was six and with my family. Now I'm in a foreign city alone.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

This is the dream I had last night.

In my dream I was at a event of some sort where we had to watch disney cartoons for twelve hours; my entire immediate family was there and we watched the cartoons. By the time the cartoons were finished it was 10am the people at the event worked for Canadian Tire (even though the building and uniforms look like Home Depot). They said that they are doing a fundraising event for people who do not have shoes or floors and if we bring in shoes and ceramic tiles for tonight the poor shoeless, floorless people will get shoes and a floor. Hearing this I immediatly start to gather up old shoes and end up with 22 pairs. I was and bleach them (they were all white), sew the bits falling up back on and generally clean them up really really well. I also go out and find tiles at the dollar store cheap so that the shoeless, floorless may have shoes and floors. So this takes another 12 hours to do and at the end of the day I'm tired and bit cranky because I haven't been able to talk to Dave but I know that I will be done soon and it will all be worth it.

So I cart off all the shoes and ceramic tiles to Canadian Tire. When I arrive there are other people there with shopping carts full of shoes and tiles just like me and we all wait around. An anouncement is made saying that they are no longer doing to fundraiser for whatever reason so we can just take all our shoes and tiles and beat it. I trip out.

I start screaming "WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO NEED SHOES!?" "WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO!?" "HOW CAN YOU DO THIS" "I WANT TO SPEAK TO SOMEONE!" So they pull the crazy lady (me) aside and start saying that I have to leave, they don't want to give the shoeless shoes anymore. And I start throwing a ceramic tile at this guy. "I want to talk to your MANAGER!!!!" (who is the lady running the cartoons the previous night), well they say she will meet you over here and they take me to the back of the building in an aisle no one ever goes down. As I'm waiting there I realize the reason they put me here is so no one can here my yelling. So I barge out and say "I'm not waiting there. You are just doing it so no one heres me yelling!" They say, "Thats true, I was cutting metal over in aisle 13 and all I could hear was you". So I stand in the centre hallway and wait. And while I'm waiting a girl from one of my classes who in real life I don't think likes me comes up in her home depot uniform and starts mocking me.

SO obviously, I start kickboxing and punching at her for the sake of the shoeless and floorless everywhere. So we are fighting but every few minutes I start to break down and cry saying "how can you not think of the shoeless! they have no shoes! do this for them! and I'm absolutely balling my eyes out. Its awful. Then I wake up.

The funny thing about me though is if the dream is bad enough like that it will effect me. So I tell Dave the whole story and he knows I get the strangest most twisted dreams which he has accepted by now and being the good person he is asks..."are you okay"?

Ripple Effect

{Self-Portrait}

My mother yelled at me last night.
This makes me act like a small wounded animal; I crawl into my corner, hold my blanket and eat chocolate.

Only my mother can do this to me.

As most of you know, I have a strong personality. I have my definte opinions and have my own way of communicating with the world. I don't when my mother yells at me.

I don't know why she scares me so badly when she does, I'm 18 but when she yells I'm instantly three again. My mother is my kriptonite.

I love her and I know she loves me but when she is mad - give me my blanket and reeses cups...you won't see me for a while.

In the case of my mother I can either fight or flight. I have fought many a time before, I don't like seeing her like that. I don't like me seeing her as that. So I hide.

My mother was angry that I wasn't coming home for Christmas longer. I'm going from the morning of the 23rd to the afternoon of the 28th, I would have liked to stay longer but I have to work. I tried to tell her that and I just started crying and immediately felt sorry for my self.

But I do have to work because I have to pay for things: like the bloody train tickets down and back. My parents pay my rent and God bless them for it but I pay my electricity bill, my gas bill, my tuition, my groceries and my text books. Which is a lot for a part time university student. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm still upset.

The Day of Perfect Sensibility and Progress

{Oh how sensible!}

Today is feeling quaint, that is if a day could feel quaint. Perhaps it is my progress and exceptional time management skills today that feel quaint because I know they will never, ever last.

Well I rose at perfectly sensible hour of 8:50am to wake up, shower {including shaving my entire legs which never happens in the winter because I will not be wearing anything shorter than knee length but for the sake of progress I shave}, get dressed in comfortable university type clothes and head of to speak to a professor. I arrive, we chat, I get accepted into his class of now five. Ooh, I love the small campus. I leave and head over to the library to work and find great literature. After an hour or so I departand head for the local mall. I buy a gift bag and some gum - all perfectly reasonable. I walk over to university campus buildings, drop of required things to drop off and venture into the new student centre where emotion takes over.

It's f-in gorgeous! The student lounge is like a nice hotel. I want to live there.

Now, back to the perfectly reasonable. I take a local paper from the lounge, walk to the movie store, rent When Harry Met Sally for...
Watch out ...unreasonable...for the scene where she fakes an orgasim in a diner and a woman says to a waitress "I want what she's having"...hilarious...

Okay, back to perfectly sensible. I pay my late fees, go home, pick up flyers and my mail, walk up the stairs and to my apartment and sit and think how sensible I am.

And ponder...how long is it going to last?

Let them eat cake and binge drink

{tyr and sotp me, you wont cause you dont care that much}

I know I shouldnt be doing this. But i am. I am drinking while writing an essay. I know that usually I am a responsible, good natured person and I know this blog will surely haunt me when my friends realize what I am doing. And they will respect me less. But this blog is not for their benefit but for mine. Today as the stress hits me; 72.4% on my SoPo project, 64 or somthing % on my ReARg midterm and an essay due tomorrow and an exam and work and a project due that I really need to work on somemore and an overdose on Jaffa Cakes [i admit it a whole box] and late fines and no mooney and course decisions and the fear of rejection all lead me to one conclusion about an hour ago. Crack the music, take off my sweater, open a bottle of booze and dance around my living room like the idiot I secretely am. Hold on...I like this song. And you know what is sadder than all my exploits? The fact that no one living in this city cares enough to stop me. So BAH HUMBUG! I drown my cares in a tiny bottle of booze and don't feel good about it. I wish I was doing something else, somewhere else - I know why university students commit suicide. I heard Trent University students have longer reading weeks because their suicide rate is so high. Makes sense. I won't die but I will dance in my underwear with a bottle of booze in my hand for the most childish reason possible - no one can stop me.

Give Me A Second...

{are you the bird or the idiot in the taxi?}

There are exactly...one...two...three...eight days of school left [not including weekends] and the school work has gotten to the point where I no longer feel like I'm living. I'm not sure what day it is, what is due when, but I know if I stop working I will infact explode. I feel like I haven't stopped working since Monday at 10am; work is only punctuated with sleep at random intervals, phone calls, some eating [not much], showering and the changing of clothes. Not till December 5th will I function properly again. I have become a university robot.

This is actually a rare affliction, only happening to those with some procrastination tendencies, a large workload and the sentiment to actually care about their grades regardless that they are now in University and no longer have to fight to rest uncomfortably in its ivory arms.

As a three month old student I know a few things now that I would like to tell myself back in August if I sometime in the near future recieve a time machine:

• 8:30 classes are brutal and don't get behind in your readings.
• The 21st class is going to be a waste of time.
• Try to eat things before they rot.
• Don't wait to do laundry till your on your last pair of everything.
• Don't let yourself work as much as you do.

These things may seem like common sense but to my own psyche they are not, apparently.

Now time for random questions:

• Is it better for one to speak two languages half descently or one language perfectly?
• If you leave your cell phone in your refrigerator can you hear it when it rings? [tested, the answer is yes - even on vibrate!]
• If the goverment goes to the American time change of two hours each way I will never be able to get up for 8:30 classes, are they really that dumb to do that to me!? [hypothesis, yes they are that dumb]
• Is scratching oneself a nervous or anxious tendency?
• Cellar Door: is it really the most beautiful phrase?
• Do I have a big nose? [no more make over shows for me]

One Week To Take Over the World

{Neon Was Invented Today}

Well, maybe not TAKE over the world but thats what it sure feels like sometimes.
This week has been full of volunteering and commitees and essays and studying some good old fashioned ass-kicking.

I want to be on the journalism guild commitee to help the program grow - but mostly because I'm passionate about journalism, I'm damn smart and I'm the only one I trust not to f this up. And I think my Prof already made me Exec. Should I start printing business cards?

Today I worked on getting things ready for the premiere that I'm organizing and that city hall is going to show up to...boooh ya! I ran around photocopying flyers, fixing press releases, booking rooms and speakers for the second showing and working out story ideas. It twas a day of work but I loved it.

And I woke up at 9 this morning to read the Communist Manifesto. All in a day's work really.

Tonight I have to study, do laundry and continue to plot my world domination. But first...I'm hungry.