Friday, April 30, 2004
Isn't it so often difficult to remember that people are only human?
My father and I have never been really close, or at least I wouldn't say as close as my mother and I are, but we have a special relationship. I can't say I understand that relationship, as it mostly consists of grunts, whines, and his "fussing" about things the family has done, etc. in addition to the infrequent times where he'll be an incredibly nice guy and buy something that fits the occasion perfectly, as if made for TV.
My father is a good man. From the way he's loved my mother over the years, it's definitely evident that he's a good man. He's a Christian man, and although it hasn't all been wine and roses for the two of them, I can honestly say that the two of them together--my parents--have shown me what love should be like. They've done their jobs. Dad goes daily to a job he doesn't particulary care for even though he's capable of so much more. He brings home the money, even though I'm sure my mom makes more than he. He pays bills. He listens to the Temptations on his computer. He has no other vices that I can see, really. My daddy's a good man.
He's not a young man, no. But he's too young to be breaking down this way... I remember being little and going every night to sleep on the floor in my parents room (and no, I never once heard them having sex until I was much older, after I'd stopped doing that).. They'd wake to pee and find me there, curled up on the throw pillows they'd tossed off the bed, and my daddy would pick me up and carry me back to my bed. I know because sometimes I'd wake up on the short walk back to my room. Daddy was always so strong. Not that he had rippling muscles or anything, but he was always a strong man. And then he started working at the money place for CTA and his muscles really got big from swinging bags of cash all day. My mom really liked that he was working there until he started getting fatigued. It got so bad that he could no longer work there anymore. His muscles turned to mush, and his eyes began to droop. This is not sparkling wordplay. My daddy tenderized as his body began to mutiny against him.
He was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis, a degenerative disease in which the lymphatic system begins to kill off benign cells of the body. There's no cure, but most people find help in a series of hormones and/or surgery. In June 2001 he had surgery to remove his thalmus, which the doctors said was causing the problem. They sawed his ribs and popped them open like a rusty gate. He has a zipper down the front of his chest. I remember visiting in the hospital and I could barely look at him before I just cried my eyes out. He told me that I was beautiful, that he loved me, all the stuff I knew he must think from the things that he's done for me... presents on Valentine's day, special Christmas gifts.. he used to bring home stuff just for me...
I digress. The surgery helped for a limited time, but now he's getting fatigued more often, with drooping eyes. He can't fix things the way he used to, and even though he tries to do yard work it leaves him sapped of all energy. Daddy is slower. He can't lift my mini refrigerator by himself anymore. I try to help, but he doesn't want it. Though he tries to keep it out of all our minds, we know that daddy is prematurely becoming an old man. His youth and vitality is being sapped, and it's not fair. I want my daddy back, and it's not fair.
He's bringing two young men from church to help me move out of my dorm today, and partly to help him drive back. My mom doesn't want him driving 8 hours straight. So I will watch my father, once larger than life, become human again in the face of these young men, in their primes. I can't help but mourn the loss of my father's.
My father and I have never been really close, or at least I wouldn't say as close as my mother and I are, but we have a special relationship. I can't say I understand that relationship, as it mostly consists of grunts, whines, and his "fussing" about things the family has done, etc. in addition to the infrequent times where he'll be an incredibly nice guy and buy something that fits the occasion perfectly, as if made for TV.
My father is a good man. From the way he's loved my mother over the years, it's definitely evident that he's a good man. He's a Christian man, and although it hasn't all been wine and roses for the two of them, I can honestly say that the two of them together--my parents--have shown me what love should be like. They've done their jobs. Dad goes daily to a job he doesn't particulary care for even though he's capable of so much more. He brings home the money, even though I'm sure my mom makes more than he. He pays bills. He listens to the Temptations on his computer. He has no other vices that I can see, really. My daddy's a good man.
He's not a young man, no. But he's too young to be breaking down this way... I remember being little and going every night to sleep on the floor in my parents room (and no, I never once heard them having sex until I was much older, after I'd stopped doing that).. They'd wake to pee and find me there, curled up on the throw pillows they'd tossed off the bed, and my daddy would pick me up and carry me back to my bed. I know because sometimes I'd wake up on the short walk back to my room. Daddy was always so strong. Not that he had rippling muscles or anything, but he was always a strong man. And then he started working at the money place for CTA and his muscles really got big from swinging bags of cash all day. My mom really liked that he was working there until he started getting fatigued. It got so bad that he could no longer work there anymore. His muscles turned to mush, and his eyes began to droop. This is not sparkling wordplay. My daddy tenderized as his body began to mutiny against him.
He was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis, a degenerative disease in which the lymphatic system begins to kill off benign cells of the body. There's no cure, but most people find help in a series of hormones and/or surgery. In June 2001 he had surgery to remove his thalmus, which the doctors said was causing the problem. They sawed his ribs and popped them open like a rusty gate. He has a zipper down the front of his chest. I remember visiting in the hospital and I could barely look at him before I just cried my eyes out. He told me that I was beautiful, that he loved me, all the stuff I knew he must think from the things that he's done for me... presents on Valentine's day, special Christmas gifts.. he used to bring home stuff just for me...
I digress. The surgery helped for a limited time, but now he's getting fatigued more often, with drooping eyes. He can't fix things the way he used to, and even though he tries to do yard work it leaves him sapped of all energy. Daddy is slower. He can't lift my mini refrigerator by himself anymore. I try to help, but he doesn't want it. Though he tries to keep it out of all our minds, we know that daddy is prematurely becoming an old man. His youth and vitality is being sapped, and it's not fair. I want my daddy back, and it's not fair.
He's bringing two young men from church to help me move out of my dorm today, and partly to help him drive back. My mom doesn't want him driving 8 hours straight. So I will watch my father, once larger than life, become human again in the face of these young men, in their primes. I can't help but mourn the loss of my father's.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Your mouth was made for kissing, and your heart was made for loving.
Feel free to quote me.
I'm a mess of contradictions tonight: I feel light, like something beautiful could just fly from my heart to my hands and onto these keys, but I feel too heavy to express myself properly. Oh, if only I could find that special place, the fountain of creativity! But not tonight. No matter; I will celebrate my liberation by watching tv and eating popcorn. Too bad I tossed out what was left of my hot sauce last night.
Feel free to quote me.
I'm a mess of contradictions tonight: I feel light, like something beautiful could just fly from my heart to my hands and onto these keys, but I feel too heavy to express myself properly. Oh, if only I could find that special place, the fountain of creativity! But not tonight. No matter; I will celebrate my liberation by watching tv and eating popcorn. Too bad I tossed out what was left of my hot sauce last night.
Liberation.
Exultation.
Jubilation.
Grin-formation.
I chanted that to myself as I skipped home from my last final today. I'm done, done, done! Still hella tired, but it feels good to get rid of that dark cloud that hung over my head for weeks... It's great to be done, and that's pretty much all I can think to say. Gonna crash now then wake up and do some packing later. Yayness. Peace out.
Exultation.
Jubilation.
Grin-formation.
I chanted that to myself as I skipped home from my last final today. I'm done, done, done! Still hella tired, but it feels good to get rid of that dark cloud that hung over my head for weeks... It's great to be done, and that's pretty much all I can think to say. Gonna crash now then wake up and do some packing later. Yayness. Peace out.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
"You beckon me the way the night sky calls
To the sun at the dawn of the morning..."
That began a poem I once wrote for my love long long ago. I remember crying so when I wrote that poem... I have loved him this way for a long time, though for a while it was latent within me. It was before I began to develop and learned the hard way that actions have consequences for which one does not always prepare. But that--I'd have to say that poem was ripped from the very deepest feelings I have for him, and only him. It's a secret cove, my love, an undiscovered treasure that lies deep beneath the earth, rarely if ever visited. I believe I've only been there twice, but I can try and describe it to you:
Lush and verdent: two words that describe the color of my love... The grass there grows thick like a carpet beneath the feet, and the blades that wedge themselves between the toes are so soft they shouldnt be called blades. The air is fragrant with sweet smells of fresh-blooming jasmine that never withers or dies, fragrant lilacs and lavendar, and strangely, vanilla grows there, stretching its leaves toward the light that filters down from above. The heat of the sun reaches to my love and warms the air. Water cascades down rocks in the corner, leading to a stream that cuts across my love. No one knows how deep the stream is or where it goes, but it keeps flowing clear.... The gold nuggets of my memories glisten below, seem so close to the surface that you could reach down to fetch one, but the stream is deceptively clear, not shallow in the least. At the heart of my love, in a special place, a small ring glistens in the light: the first ring I gave my Josh lies there, atop a golden box that hovers, resting on invisible supports...his ring sits atop a small golden box filled with tears, poems, and doodles of our names inside hastily-scribbled hearts. Inside that box are sweet words filled with longing, heavy and bittersweet. Every word of love is there. We don't talk much, so there are more golden nuggets in the clear blue stream than sweet words in my golden box. But I keep it close.
I want to take Josh to my love and sit with him by the streams of memory, watching the tiny fishes that dart back and forth in the water. He would splash me, then kiss me, naturally. :)
To the sun at the dawn of the morning..."
That began a poem I once wrote for my love long long ago. I remember crying so when I wrote that poem... I have loved him this way for a long time, though for a while it was latent within me. It was before I began to develop and learned the hard way that actions have consequences for which one does not always prepare. But that--I'd have to say that poem was ripped from the very deepest feelings I have for him, and only him. It's a secret cove, my love, an undiscovered treasure that lies deep beneath the earth, rarely if ever visited. I believe I've only been there twice, but I can try and describe it to you:
Lush and verdent: two words that describe the color of my love... The grass there grows thick like a carpet beneath the feet, and the blades that wedge themselves between the toes are so soft they shouldnt be called blades. The air is fragrant with sweet smells of fresh-blooming jasmine that never withers or dies, fragrant lilacs and lavendar, and strangely, vanilla grows there, stretching its leaves toward the light that filters down from above. The heat of the sun reaches to my love and warms the air. Water cascades down rocks in the corner, leading to a stream that cuts across my love. No one knows how deep the stream is or where it goes, but it keeps flowing clear.... The gold nuggets of my memories glisten below, seem so close to the surface that you could reach down to fetch one, but the stream is deceptively clear, not shallow in the least. At the heart of my love, in a special place, a small ring glistens in the light: the first ring I gave my Josh lies there, atop a golden box that hovers, resting on invisible supports...his ring sits atop a small golden box filled with tears, poems, and doodles of our names inside hastily-scribbled hearts. Inside that box are sweet words filled with longing, heavy and bittersweet. Every word of love is there. We don't talk much, so there are more golden nuggets in the clear blue stream than sweet words in my golden box. But I keep it close.
I want to take Josh to my love and sit with him by the streams of memory, watching the tiny fishes that dart back and forth in the water. He would splash me, then kiss me, naturally. :)
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
I keep dreaming about huge, wide-open buildings like convention centers and the like. In the dream, I was on a tour of some old-timey, huge government building. The tour guide guy had us sit on this giant ottoman that had seat belts.. it was somewhat like a hovercraft that floated from room to room. For some reason, I was unnerved and slid forward, trying to get off, but all it did was shove my catholic schoolgirl skirt up around my waist and show my panties as I struggled to slide off the giant ottoman.. Eventually the man got the net about me wanting to get out of the tour, and since I looked so desperate, he unfastened my seat belt and someone volunteered to escort me back to the bus. I sat on the steps of the building, near tears, when a faceless, yet beautiful man took my hand and led me around the building's atrium. We climbed on railings and sailed down satin curtains like the movies... it was strange, but so much fun. He sang to me and I felt so much lighter.. my heart was feather-light. He held me close, but it was platonic. I felt that he would always be there with me and that made my tears subside. We went to a park and swung on the swings. He didn't offer to push me and I went high, higher on my own power. He said it was because I have strong legs that he let me do it alone...
My alarm clock buzzed at 6:45pm, but I lay there, eyes tightly shut, still hoping that the man wouldn't leave me like he promised. I still feel happy because even though I am physically here alone, he is still with me.
My alarm clock buzzed at 6:45pm, but I lay there, eyes tightly shut, still hoping that the man wouldn't leave me like he promised. I still feel happy because even though I am physically here alone, he is still with me.
My dear mind-feeders,
If you've come in search of something beautiful, my advice is to continue your search elsewhere. I have nothing to feed you today. As I told my roommate Grace, "I feel like a dried-up grape. Not a raisin, though, cuz I'm not supposed to be dried up.. just a dried-up, nasty old grape." She laughed, but I meant it in all seriousness. If you were to see me now, you'd wonder if I'd been up crying, or if you supposed a more worldly reason, smoking marijuana. Truth be told, I've been up all night doing neither of the two, only studying and perhaps stressing a bit over the immutable (at this point, at least). And I feel exhausted, melancholy, quiet. It's a quiet riot week for Laura, spent holed up here in her room with her wide flat nose buried in biology and women's studies, filling her head with facts that will probably be useless four years from now.
It's so amazing how the end result can get so muddled with the means by which one arrives there. But through it all, I will keep my eyes on the prize: a fulfilling life's work of obstetrics and gynecology, followed by my memoirs once I retire.
They will be interesting memoirs. You should purchase them if you're still alive after I have them published.
And now it's back to work, my pretty loves. Do something fun in my stead.
If you've come in search of something beautiful, my advice is to continue your search elsewhere. I have nothing to feed you today. As I told my roommate Grace, "I feel like a dried-up grape. Not a raisin, though, cuz I'm not supposed to be dried up.. just a dried-up, nasty old grape." She laughed, but I meant it in all seriousness. If you were to see me now, you'd wonder if I'd been up crying, or if you supposed a more worldly reason, smoking marijuana. Truth be told, I've been up all night doing neither of the two, only studying and perhaps stressing a bit over the immutable (at this point, at least). And I feel exhausted, melancholy, quiet. It's a quiet riot week for Laura, spent holed up here in her room with her wide flat nose buried in biology and women's studies, filling her head with facts that will probably be useless four years from now.
It's so amazing how the end result can get so muddled with the means by which one arrives there. But through it all, I will keep my eyes on the prize: a fulfilling life's work of obstetrics and gynecology, followed by my memoirs once I retire.
They will be interesting memoirs. You should purchase them if you're still alive after I have them published.
And now it's back to work, my pretty loves. Do something fun in my stead.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Kind of really tired of feeling the same way about the same things.. I want to go new places and see new things with new people, and with Josh. I want to sit outside in the face of a warm dusk and watch the day's transition into night. And at home I want to see the stars come out. That's pretty much impossible though, seeing as we have such terrible light pollution there. Ah well.
*sigh* I'll be home in five days or so, which is bittersweet. I want to go home, of course, but there's lots of stress and such there that I don't want to deal with. If I don't feel like being nice then I don't want to be nice... and I don't want people saying that I have a bad attitude or anything. Oh well. I shouldn't complain. This year has been alright with none of the major stressors that last year had. Although I do think that the migraines and other stuff has been a bit worse this year. And of course it was extra expensive because Josh was here instead of in Ann Arbor with me.
:) Right now he's on the floor, rubbing lotion on my feet and tickling/massaging them, and I love him. I remember one Thanksgiving my cousin and his gf came to my house for a while and after about an hour or so he was on the floor, kissing her feet as she reclined on our couch. I never thought I'd be that way with someone, at the point of kissing his every part, wanting to be with him, inside him forever. Love does some awesome things to you, really...
And now I will leave you to go hold him while we watch tv on the couch. Later.
*sigh* I'll be home in five days or so, which is bittersweet. I want to go home, of course, but there's lots of stress and such there that I don't want to deal with. If I don't feel like being nice then I don't want to be nice... and I don't want people saying that I have a bad attitude or anything. Oh well. I shouldn't complain. This year has been alright with none of the major stressors that last year had. Although I do think that the migraines and other stuff has been a bit worse this year. And of course it was extra expensive because Josh was here instead of in Ann Arbor with me.
:) Right now he's on the floor, rubbing lotion on my feet and tickling/massaging them, and I love him. I remember one Thanksgiving my cousin and his gf came to my house for a while and after about an hour or so he was on the floor, kissing her feet as she reclined on our couch. I never thought I'd be that way with someone, at the point of kissing his every part, wanting to be with him, inside him forever. Love does some awesome things to you, really...
And now I will leave you to go hold him while we watch tv on the couch. Later.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
I'm sitting alone in Josh's apartment now while he works and looks very cute dressed up. I really thought I was over that stage of smiling whenever I get near him and stuff like that, but today when I saw him at work I really couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. The boy is adorable, I have to say, and I can't help but gush over him whenever I see him out of our element and dealing with other people. That's one of the reasons why I fell for him in the beginning because people either love him or hate him straightaway. Most people tend to love him, like me. He's tough to take occasionally, but he's a really good person who loves me very much.
Okay, so that was my little gush hehe... I actually did study for about an hour and a half before I totally freaked out and decided I couldn't handle any more. Yes, I'm studying at my bf's place while he's working which completely defeats the purpose of coming out to spend time with him, but whatever.. I mean, we'll spend time together later. And this way I can actually get some work done whenever I feel like going back into his room and hitting the books again *shivers*
Why are finals so darned stressful? Perhaps if we all stopped caring about them teachers would stop giving grades and the whole system would be defeated. You could get a college degree and set out on your way to making more money than those who don't have one, and then that'd just be that. It wouldn't matter. Nobody'd try anymore and those who are better than you wouldn't know it because absolutely none of us would give a sh*t about it anyway. So you see the benefit? You'd never have to feel stupid about taking longer to learn a concept or doing poorly on a test. Nobody would know whether or not you learned the material. And, more importantly, you'd just learn all you needed to know on-the-job anyways, so.. Yeah. Let's change the world that way. I volunteer if you do.
/rantings of a crazy girl who resents taking finals
hehe.. my love will be home in a coupla hours, so I'm gonna go write him a love note and put it in one of his sneakers or his jeans pocket... sure I'll think of something. ta ta.
Okay, so that was my little gush hehe... I actually did study for about an hour and a half before I totally freaked out and decided I couldn't handle any more. Yes, I'm studying at my bf's place while he's working which completely defeats the purpose of coming out to spend time with him, but whatever.. I mean, we'll spend time together later. And this way I can actually get some work done whenever I feel like going back into his room and hitting the books again *shivers*
Why are finals so darned stressful? Perhaps if we all stopped caring about them teachers would stop giving grades and the whole system would be defeated. You could get a college degree and set out on your way to making more money than those who don't have one, and then that'd just be that. It wouldn't matter. Nobody'd try anymore and those who are better than you wouldn't know it because absolutely none of us would give a sh*t about it anyway. So you see the benefit? You'd never have to feel stupid about taking longer to learn a concept or doing poorly on a test. Nobody would know whether or not you learned the material. And, more importantly, you'd just learn all you needed to know on-the-job anyways, so.. Yeah. Let's change the world that way. I volunteer if you do.
/rantings of a crazy girl who resents taking finals
hehe.. my love will be home in a coupla hours, so I'm gonna go write him a love note and put it in one of his sneakers or his jeans pocket... sure I'll think of something. ta ta.
Friday, April 23, 2004
Last night I realized just how adult my situation had gotten. I was on the phone with Josh, the night before my French final, talking about deep things, very personal to both of us, and I cried a little bit.. it wasn't all fun and niceties, but we did talk about things and we understand better where we are and where we're going. Yes I realize the vagueness of that, but I can't reveal everything here. :)
This morning I feel much better. Hugo wrote about his pseudo-affair with Spring, and I honestly understand him.. She's one hot tamale, so beautiful and yes, quite fragrant. *giggle*
Or maybe it's because there's 1 final down and 3 more to go until I get to leave Ann Arbor and go home and do this school thing again.. blech.. Oh well, at least it'll be summah babay!
I can't think of much else to talk about now, but I'll be sure to "hit you up" later.
This morning I feel much better. Hugo wrote about his pseudo-affair with Spring, and I honestly understand him.. She's one hot tamale, so beautiful and yes, quite fragrant. *giggle*
Or maybe it's because there's 1 final down and 3 more to go until I get to leave Ann Arbor and go home and do this school thing again.. blech.. Oh well, at least it'll be summah babay!
I can't think of much else to talk about now, but I'll be sure to "hit you up" later.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
I woke up very very happy about 30 minutes ago. Sleep was long and languid, and if that weren't enough, my dreams were so sweet...
I got to dream of my love, which is somewhat rare for me, for some reason. I must psych myself out of dreaming of him by hoping and wishing really hard when I get into bed.. ah well. When I least expected a dream, it came to me and spun a golden yarn about my love coming to my rescue. As if that weren't enough to melt my heart, he came in a white SUV! Horses are for the Middle Ages, baby, and Dreamland is apparently keeping up with the times, lol. The details involve adult situations: pimps, 'ho's, bad neighborhoods, theft, and full-service gas stations, and in the interest of minors that might stumble across my page, I shall withold that info from you (ok, that's a lie, but so what? it's myyy blog :P ). Maybe, if I'm feeling especially benevolent, you can email me, but do you really want to know that much?
Really, it all boils down to Josh and me, heading for the horizon together. He held my hand as he drove. :)
I better make use of these study days and actually get some studying done for finals. Later all. *smooches*
I got to dream of my love, which is somewhat rare for me, for some reason. I must psych myself out of dreaming of him by hoping and wishing really hard when I get into bed.. ah well. When I least expected a dream, it came to me and spun a golden yarn about my love coming to my rescue. As if that weren't enough to melt my heart, he came in a white SUV! Horses are for the Middle Ages, baby, and Dreamland is apparently keeping up with the times, lol. The details involve adult situations: pimps, 'ho's, bad neighborhoods, theft, and full-service gas stations, and in the interest of minors that might stumble across my page, I shall withold that info from you (ok, that's a lie, but so what? it's myyy blog :P ). Maybe, if I'm feeling especially benevolent, you can email me, but do you really want to know that much?
Really, it all boils down to Josh and me, heading for the horizon together. He held my hand as he drove. :)
I better make use of these study days and actually get some studying done for finals. Later all. *smooches*
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
*giggle*
To avoid being sexist and generalizing, I will relate all things in this post to myself. Honestly, though, I think it applies to a lot of women out there:
There's something about poetry and writing that gets inside my soul like nothing else but music can. I don't feel that way about a beautifully painted sunset, or if someone dances divinely, or things like that. But the written word--I am such a sucker. Maybe it's because I, like many of us, go about this world trying to tune out so many dark things, dirty things that make me sad, things that hurt, that distract me from the beauty that surrounds me. And then, when I find something great in the way someone has manipulated the tongue I love, I can't help but be moved. That place inside me that was so starved feeds on the moment. I feel like a child who finally takes her hands from her ears, shutting out the yelling and screaming, to be rewarded with sweet silence. Occasionally, something inside lets go and I shed tears of relief.
There's something even more special about the artist who can paint the world with words if he's a man. It probably stems to the societal construction that men are still apes who can't hold a pencil, much less construct something with words. Even so, there's just something about a man with an artful and skillful pen. How sensual and intimate is the way he can touch in such a personal way, inaccessible by other means or other people! When he writes something incredible, so illustrative and beautiful, he gets inside me the way no one else can.
Yes, I am an ardent lover of pretty words. Perhaps I do swoon a little, even. Before I lose control, however, I collect myself and flick on that mechanism which keeps me tuned out from the poetic world around me. Then it's back to normal.
Somehow I know that I'm not alone in feeling this way.
There's something about poetry and writing that gets inside my soul like nothing else but music can. I don't feel that way about a beautifully painted sunset, or if someone dances divinely, or things like that. But the written word--I am such a sucker. Maybe it's because I, like many of us, go about this world trying to tune out so many dark things, dirty things that make me sad, things that hurt, that distract me from the beauty that surrounds me. And then, when I find something great in the way someone has manipulated the tongue I love, I can't help but be moved. That place inside me that was so starved feeds on the moment. I feel like a child who finally takes her hands from her ears, shutting out the yelling and screaming, to be rewarded with sweet silence. Occasionally, something inside lets go and I shed tears of relief.
There's something even more special about the artist who can paint the world with words if he's a man. It probably stems to the societal construction that men are still apes who can't hold a pencil, much less construct something with words. Even so, there's just something about a man with an artful and skillful pen. How sensual and intimate is the way he can touch in such a personal way, inaccessible by other means or other people! When he writes something incredible, so illustrative and beautiful, he gets inside me the way no one else can.
Yes, I am an ardent lover of pretty words. Perhaps I do swoon a little, even. Before I lose control, however, I collect myself and flick on that mechanism which keeps me tuned out from the poetic world around me. Then it's back to normal.
Somehow I know that I'm not alone in feeling this way.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
I listen to Fuel's "Last Time" and all of a sudden I'm reminded of Chicago's 'L' and the Red Line. This was practically my anthem for that half of junior year of hs that I spent trekking to and from Roosevelt U for that math class. It would always be dusk, and I'd always be on the last two tick marks of my batteries, but I'd turn the volume way up so people could hear that, even though we lived in a predominantly black neighborhood, there were other genres of music in the world besides rap and r&b. I did that so that I would feel unique in a world of people who seemed hopelessly the same.
I've always strived to be unique--not different, as that would make me stick out like a sore thumb--just unique. I didn't want to be so radical that I didn't fit in, just to bring that new and fresh element to whatever environment in which I found myself. In doing so, I ended up really sticking out like a sore thumb, at least in high school. But my style, which I lovingly refer to as "grunge preppy" or "slacker" (baggy, wrinkled stuff.. lots of separates thrown together in no real attempt to match.. some tight things, and the uniform hair is most often a ponytail), sort of gave me that I-don't-belong-here look. It's especially difficult to feel alright when you see your peers dressed to impress, even in casual wear, but that comes naturally with a culture that places so much emphasis on clothing. Something about us blacks makes us feel uncomfortable if we don't go out with hair done, clothes neatly pressed, matching up the wazoo, from shoes to belt to purse to the belt clip on our phones.
So now, I suppose I've achieved what I set out to be. I'm unique, I'd say, only it hasn't brought me all the happiness or notoriety I expected. There's so much emphasis placed on looks these days that people can't help looking at me as I go about campus (and I happen to be much more visible cuz like only about 7% of our 27000 enrolled students are black).
Though it's difficult and embarrassing to admit, I honestly thought that coming to college would change my life. While it's true that no one here knew me before I introduced them to this Laura, I'm still the same me I was before I left Chicago. It's possible that I've learned more about myself and am more confident, more humble, less judgmental, but I'm still Laura, essentially. And I'd love to go back to GBCPA and tell all the kids that college isn't like what's shown on TV... that no matter how smart you are you face the challenge of pleasing your worst critic: yourself. And, most importantly, if you let someone else choose the path your life will take, you will only end up resentful. I'm still trying to soak that last part in.
Growing up is difficult. I never thought I'd be the person that I am right now when I closed my eyes and imagined Laura on the verge of nineteen. I never thought I'd have to eat so much crow pie by this time, either. I never thought I'd make friends with the kinds of people I've encountered. And I never thought that life could be so rewarding as it is.
Glimpsing the future gives me lots of hope, and I know that no matter what's going on right now, it's all just the vehicle that will transport me to where I want to be. I'm learning that it's not all about "getting it right", just about "getting it", cuz Lord knows that's hard enough.
I'm glad I can encourage myself before finals and the rest of the tougher stuff kicks in.
I've always strived to be unique--not different, as that would make me stick out like a sore thumb--just unique. I didn't want to be so radical that I didn't fit in, just to bring that new and fresh element to whatever environment in which I found myself. In doing so, I ended up really sticking out like a sore thumb, at least in high school. But my style, which I lovingly refer to as "grunge preppy" or "slacker" (baggy, wrinkled stuff.. lots of separates thrown together in no real attempt to match.. some tight things, and the uniform hair is most often a ponytail), sort of gave me that I-don't-belong-here look. It's especially difficult to feel alright when you see your peers dressed to impress, even in casual wear, but that comes naturally with a culture that places so much emphasis on clothing. Something about us blacks makes us feel uncomfortable if we don't go out with hair done, clothes neatly pressed, matching up the wazoo, from shoes to belt to purse to the belt clip on our phones.
So now, I suppose I've achieved what I set out to be. I'm unique, I'd say, only it hasn't brought me all the happiness or notoriety I expected. There's so much emphasis placed on looks these days that people can't help looking at me as I go about campus (and I happen to be much more visible cuz like only about 7% of our 27000 enrolled students are black).
Though it's difficult and embarrassing to admit, I honestly thought that coming to college would change my life. While it's true that no one here knew me before I introduced them to this Laura, I'm still the same me I was before I left Chicago. It's possible that I've learned more about myself and am more confident, more humble, less judgmental, but I'm still Laura, essentially. And I'd love to go back to GBCPA and tell all the kids that college isn't like what's shown on TV... that no matter how smart you are you face the challenge of pleasing your worst critic: yourself. And, most importantly, if you let someone else choose the path your life will take, you will only end up resentful. I'm still trying to soak that last part in.
Growing up is difficult. I never thought I'd be the person that I am right now when I closed my eyes and imagined Laura on the verge of nineteen. I never thought I'd have to eat so much crow pie by this time, either. I never thought I'd make friends with the kinds of people I've encountered. And I never thought that life could be so rewarding as it is.
Glimpsing the future gives me lots of hope, and I know that no matter what's going on right now, it's all just the vehicle that will transport me to where I want to be. I'm learning that it's not all about "getting it right", just about "getting it", cuz Lord knows that's hard enough.
I'm glad I can encourage myself before finals and the rest of the tougher stuff kicks in.
Changes, changes changes... I like them. It probably looks bad on your comp, but I have a low resolution on mine so it doesn't matter. :)
I have added yet more to my writing repertoire as I experiment with new ways to write dialogue. Check it out under my writing on the sidebar. Writing things that flow well is a difficult thing that I have not yet mastered. I believe an English degree will help with that, hopefully.
Anyways... The last day of classes is tomorrow, and I'll have nothing left but studying and getting my things packed to leave here next Friday. I'd hoped to be able to see Josh for a little bit after all my finals were out of my hair, but I don't think that's going to happen. Whatever.
I dont feel in depth, you guys, but that could be on account of I just poured my creative energy into something very different, for me especially. There's always room for improvement, though, so feel free to rip me to shreds.
Britney and I are talking about drugs right now, namely "special brownies" and "shootin' up". Not that we're gonna this summer but.. we'll see. Lol j/k. I'm gonna go now.
I have added yet more to my writing repertoire as I experiment with new ways to write dialogue. Check it out under my writing on the sidebar. Writing things that flow well is a difficult thing that I have not yet mastered. I believe an English degree will help with that, hopefully.
Anyways... The last day of classes is tomorrow, and I'll have nothing left but studying and getting my things packed to leave here next Friday. I'd hoped to be able to see Josh for a little bit after all my finals were out of my hair, but I don't think that's going to happen. Whatever.
I dont feel in depth, you guys, but that could be on account of I just poured my creative energy into something very different, for me especially. There's always room for improvement, though, so feel free to rip me to shreds.
Britney and I are talking about drugs right now, namely "special brownies" and "shootin' up". Not that we're gonna this summer but.. we'll see. Lol j/k. I'm gonna go now.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Yeah so I must be totally bipolar, really. Yesterday I was all, give me space before I explode... I couldn't even talk to Josh for more than 15 minutes without having to physically leave my dorm room for like two hours afterward. But yesterday was beautiful, even here in Ann Arbor, MI at approx. 84 degrees. I lay out beneath a tree and did some homework and let people look at me as they passed by, if they wanted to check me out. And that made me feel better. :)
Today's not so bad. I look hott, yet again, and that helps ease the pain of waiting for finals to come 'round and mess us all over. It's gonna be okay though, I think.. I talked to my French teacher, told him that the language dept here sucks and that all the other kids have had prior experience with the language so excuse my suckiness. He seemed rather positive about it, which is good. Then I hung out for 'bout 40 minutes with my favorite metroseksh'al friend Talal (and he actually identifies as a metrosexual... we spent the time checking out fashion shows from famous designers and checking out Aldo.com) which was fun. Went to orgo.. got candy. Coolness.
Classes end on Wednesday, woo! French final on Friday, though, which totally bursts my bubble. (And you're glad I brought that little phrase back from the dead, aren't you? :-D)
Today's not so bad. I look hott, yet again, and that helps ease the pain of waiting for finals to come 'round and mess us all over. It's gonna be okay though, I think.. I talked to my French teacher, told him that the language dept here sucks and that all the other kids have had prior experience with the language so excuse my suckiness. He seemed rather positive about it, which is good. Then I hung out for 'bout 40 minutes with my favorite metroseksh'al friend Talal (and he actually identifies as a metrosexual... we spent the time checking out fashion shows from famous designers and checking out Aldo.com) which was fun. Went to orgo.. got candy. Coolness.
Classes end on Wednesday, woo! French final on Friday, though, which totally bursts my bubble. (And you're glad I brought that little phrase back from the dead, aren't you? :-D)
Sunday, April 18, 2004
I remember telling you all that I don't take disappointment well at all, and here's yet another example of that in practice.
Because Josh had invited me out to spend Easter with him and his family, I was out there last Sunday. The Sunday before that I had attended church and got picked up by the bus that shuttles students to and from there on Sunday mornings. I guess they didn't think I was coming this week on account of my not being there last week and instead decided to skip the stop. But here I am, dressed and out there by 7:35 or so, waiting... I waited until 7:50 and decided that they weren't going to show up at all. And I'm disappointed because I was in the mood to go to church today--the early service. Now I can either wait for the 11am or go to New Life Church's 10am, for which I am dramatically overdressed. *sigh*
What right do I have to expect God to be faithful to me when I am so very flaky with Him? He asks what seems like so little, and then when I try and put it in practice it's so hard! It's hard to trust your life to someone--anyone--other than yourself, even Someone who has my most benevolent interests at heart. My head knows this. It's my stubborn stubborn flesh that refuses to relinquish the driver's seat to God. It's dishonest, like signing the contract, spending the whole signing bonus, then deciding that I don't really want to hold up my end of the bargain.
If I'm not faithful to God, then how can I be faithful in other aspects of my life? Truth is, I'm really not, and I can see it showing up everywhere: studies, friendships, etc. My reliability is questionable at best--me, who has always been the one to be counted upon, the one who promised to always be there for others whenever needed. I can't even count on myself anymore... I say one thing and really feel passionate about it but end up in a totally different position not even days later. Why should I, then, expect my boyfriend to be faithful to me, when I can't be faithful myself? I'm not saying that he's not, but what gives me the right to expect that even the tiniest bit? No one owes me anything. I don't deserve it when I can't deliver, myself.
It's not like I don't see the fruits of giving my whole self totally to God. There are some people in my life who are having some miraculous experiences, and even I'm getting blessings despite my total flakiness. But since it's always got to be ME ME ME, I'm still stuck in the same cycle of sins that I was in 4 or 5 years ago. If I'm supposed to have grown since then, and of course I should have, then I am defective both as a human being and a Christian. I looked up some scriptures in September or so and their "addresses" are still post-it-note-d to my wall. Maybe I'll read them today.
Josh didn't come home from Julie's last night, to my knowledge. He'd IMed me from there earlier and when I went to bed they were apparently watching a movie. I said goodnight and closed his window, but he hasn't responded because there's no window of any kind from him this morning.
I wish we could get out of the co-ed sleepovers with other people. Whether we're "doing anything" or not, it's still a great source of discomfort for both of us. I'm sitting here imagining how he'd feel if I spent the night over a male friend's house.. it wouldn't be pretty, and I can see him up half the night wondering why I haven't responded to his IMs, calling me several times this morning just to make sure I came home, etc. As I said before I've no right to expect or demand anything, really. I can't help still expecting it though. Maybe we will talk about it when he gets home.
Because Josh had invited me out to spend Easter with him and his family, I was out there last Sunday. The Sunday before that I had attended church and got picked up by the bus that shuttles students to and from there on Sunday mornings. I guess they didn't think I was coming this week on account of my not being there last week and instead decided to skip the stop. But here I am, dressed and out there by 7:35 or so, waiting... I waited until 7:50 and decided that they weren't going to show up at all. And I'm disappointed because I was in the mood to go to church today--the early service. Now I can either wait for the 11am or go to New Life Church's 10am, for which I am dramatically overdressed. *sigh*
What right do I have to expect God to be faithful to me when I am so very flaky with Him? He asks what seems like so little, and then when I try and put it in practice it's so hard! It's hard to trust your life to someone--anyone--other than yourself, even Someone who has my most benevolent interests at heart. My head knows this. It's my stubborn stubborn flesh that refuses to relinquish the driver's seat to God. It's dishonest, like signing the contract, spending the whole signing bonus, then deciding that I don't really want to hold up my end of the bargain.
If I'm not faithful to God, then how can I be faithful in other aspects of my life? Truth is, I'm really not, and I can see it showing up everywhere: studies, friendships, etc. My reliability is questionable at best--me, who has always been the one to be counted upon, the one who promised to always be there for others whenever needed. I can't even count on myself anymore... I say one thing and really feel passionate about it but end up in a totally different position not even days later. Why should I, then, expect my boyfriend to be faithful to me, when I can't be faithful myself? I'm not saying that he's not, but what gives me the right to expect that even the tiniest bit? No one owes me anything. I don't deserve it when I can't deliver, myself.
It's not like I don't see the fruits of giving my whole self totally to God. There are some people in my life who are having some miraculous experiences, and even I'm getting blessings despite my total flakiness. But since it's always got to be ME ME ME, I'm still stuck in the same cycle of sins that I was in 4 or 5 years ago. If I'm supposed to have grown since then, and of course I should have, then I am defective both as a human being and a Christian. I looked up some scriptures in September or so and their "addresses" are still post-it-note-d to my wall. Maybe I'll read them today.
Josh didn't come home from Julie's last night, to my knowledge. He'd IMed me from there earlier and when I went to bed they were apparently watching a movie. I said goodnight and closed his window, but he hasn't responded because there's no window of any kind from him this morning.
I wish we could get out of the co-ed sleepovers with other people. Whether we're "doing anything" or not, it's still a great source of discomfort for both of us. I'm sitting here imagining how he'd feel if I spent the night over a male friend's house.. it wouldn't be pretty, and I can see him up half the night wondering why I haven't responded to his IMs, calling me several times this morning just to make sure I came home, etc. As I said before I've no right to expect or demand anything, really. I can't help still expecting it though. Maybe we will talk about it when he gets home.
I found something fun besides studying! Looky looky:
The difference between me and you is: I make finals look good.
I also created a really pretty anklet in honor of summer giving Michigan a little preview.. it got up to about 77 today! Woo! I did go out and enjoy it a little bit, but then came back and cloistered myself in here once more. It's aight tho.
Josh has been out with his friend Julie all day. It's going on 11 hours now and I'm jealous cuz I'm bored. I don't begrudge them their hanging out but I wish I had some fun of my own that was purely platonic. Oh well. I only got two more weeks of this garbage before I go home and start hanging out with a buncha new people who will have to get used to the special brand of havoc I tend to wreak on any city I happen to be visiting. *grins mischeviously* >:-D
So umm.. I'm going to church tomorrow. That is all.
The difference between me and you is: I make finals look good.
I also created a really pretty anklet in honor of summer giving Michigan a little preview.. it got up to about 77 today! Woo! I did go out and enjoy it a little bit, but then came back and cloistered myself in here once more. It's aight tho.
Josh has been out with his friend Julie all day. It's going on 11 hours now and I'm jealous cuz I'm bored. I don't begrudge them their hanging out but I wish I had some fun of my own that was purely platonic. Oh well. I only got two more weeks of this garbage before I go home and start hanging out with a buncha new people who will have to get used to the special brand of havoc I tend to wreak on any city I happen to be visiting. *grins mischeviously* >:-D
So umm.. I'm going to church tomorrow. That is all.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Sorry to go through all these changes on you, all, but I've been working to get something I like. Here's your advance warning that if I figure out how to make my scrollbars transparent, I will be changing it one more time. If you've got any info on that it'd be appreciated, also. :) Thanks to Shadowlight for the layout.. the link is in the linky box so I'm actually giving credit in spite of theft this time...
I havent done anything but this and study all day. Me so bored/boring! Come take me somewhere fun and get my mind off stuff. I love you *hugs everyone*
I havent done anything but this and study all day. Me so bored/boring! Come take me somewhere fun and get my mind off stuff. I love you *hugs everyone*
I'd love to take artistic photographs of myself.. probably sepia tones, as I really like the way the warm brown turns out with my skin and hair. I'd like black-and-white photos of Josh and I, though, which we should probably take soon... I like the contrast we make with each other.. it's really beautiful.
This weekend finds me home alone, which I enjoy seeing as I'm usually surrounded by people most of the time. It's good to be in one's room all by oneself sometimes, don't you think?
I feel pretty sometimes, but usually when I'm all by myself and there's no one here to tell me that I must be dreaming. I let my hair down and look in the mirror and think my eyes look nice and large.. a different kind of pretty than what's expressed on tv. Hopefully that's what my love sees when he watches me sleeping *blushes, smiles*. I wish he felt attractive also.. shame how neither one of us thinks that s/he is attractive, but we could stay up all night to watch the other sleep. :-D
I asked him something tonight and he responded sweetly:
[00:04] me: if you could have one wish what would it be, my love
[00:04] him: *kisses you again*
[00:05] me: what would it beeee
[00:07] him: id give you my wish
[00:08] me: you would?
[00:08] me: that is so sweet
[00:12] him: why you say that
[00:28] me: you would give your magical wish to me...
[00:29] me: and I would wish we would be happy together forever
[00:29] me: and the other wish would be that we be successful
[00:29] him: :)
I love him for stuff like that... Geez sometimes I feel like such a dork, but I'm a happy dork.. So it's alright. I want to go out in a gauzy dress and dance barefoot in the grass with him, stay up all night until my feet are wet with morning dew. I wanna lay in his arms and smell the earth and share the beautiful stars here with him because they are virtually invisible in Chicago. I want to hold hands and see his smile through the yellow glow of the street lamps on campus. I want to smell the jasmine that grows by Martha Cook dorm, and tell him that that smell really is jasmine. I want to kiss him in the dark and smell that outside-y smell in his hair and on his clothes, then lean in close and smell the natural sweet masculinity of his scent. Mmm just thinking of it makes me feel warm. :) I am a happy dork when with him. He is not a mind-controlling freak, or even a bad influence. He is my love and only here to make my life better.. So why don't my parents understand what I feel when I'm with him, and how much less lovely life is without him? They resent him so much... It isn't fair. *sigh*
It's different in movies and romance novels when a heroine and her parents disagree over the man she loves. Somehow she finds the strength to say that it's her life, which no one can live for her, and she and the man tell her parents that they will be together no matter what. The parents are enraged for awhile and forbid them to see each other, but somehow love prevails and they live happily ever after, riding off into the most beautifully described rose-orange sunset.
But it's different in real life. The parents yell and scream, and call the daughter names, say she doesn't appreciate all they've done for her. They claim that she's ruining her life. They stop calling her and soon she becomes the family pariah. They have family gatherings without her and cringe at the mention of her name. And all the while there she is, with the man she loves and his family for support (if she's lucky). She appreciates them, but it's never the same. Crying secretly in bed at night, the daughter wishes she could feel her mother's arms around her once again and lay her head in her mommy's lap the way she used to. She wants to consult her about the way her hair's been growing, or why she feels so tired in the evenings. She wants to tell her mommy about her days at work and how it's all so rough. She wants to hear her mother say that she is proud to have her as a daughter, but that's not possible. She chose to be with the man she loved and sacrificed her family. And no matter how happy that man could ever make her, there is still something very large missing from her life that he can't give her. Though he loves her and knows she is happy with him, he still feels that sadness inside her when he pulls her close. He hears her quiet sobbing and feels the way they make her tremble. And he resents her family for feeling that he's not good enough, that he's less of a man because he's different. But you don't read that in books.
People say, "It's your life; live it how you want." But they don't understand that whole other part that comes along with it. So I hide my most fulfilling relationship from my family.
I am off to deep-condition my tresses. Until tomorrow.
This weekend finds me home alone, which I enjoy seeing as I'm usually surrounded by people most of the time. It's good to be in one's room all by oneself sometimes, don't you think?
I feel pretty sometimes, but usually when I'm all by myself and there's no one here to tell me that I must be dreaming. I let my hair down and look in the mirror and think my eyes look nice and large.. a different kind of pretty than what's expressed on tv. Hopefully that's what my love sees when he watches me sleeping *blushes, smiles*. I wish he felt attractive also.. shame how neither one of us thinks that s/he is attractive, but we could stay up all night to watch the other sleep. :-D
I asked him something tonight and he responded sweetly:
[00:04] me: if you could have one wish what would it be, my love
[00:04] him: *kisses you again*
[00:05] me: what would it beeee
[00:07] him: id give you my wish
[00:08] me: you would?
[00:08] me: that is so sweet
[00:12] him: why you say that
[00:28] me: you would give your magical wish to me...
[00:29] me: and I would wish we would be happy together forever
[00:29] me: and the other wish would be that we be successful
[00:29] him: :)
I love him for stuff like that... Geez sometimes I feel like such a dork, but I'm a happy dork.. So it's alright. I want to go out in a gauzy dress and dance barefoot in the grass with him, stay up all night until my feet are wet with morning dew. I wanna lay in his arms and smell the earth and share the beautiful stars here with him because they are virtually invisible in Chicago. I want to hold hands and see his smile through the yellow glow of the street lamps on campus. I want to smell the jasmine that grows by Martha Cook dorm, and tell him that that smell really is jasmine. I want to kiss him in the dark and smell that outside-y smell in his hair and on his clothes, then lean in close and smell the natural sweet masculinity of his scent. Mmm just thinking of it makes me feel warm. :) I am a happy dork when with him. He is not a mind-controlling freak, or even a bad influence. He is my love and only here to make my life better.. So why don't my parents understand what I feel when I'm with him, and how much less lovely life is without him? They resent him so much... It isn't fair. *sigh*
It's different in movies and romance novels when a heroine and her parents disagree over the man she loves. Somehow she finds the strength to say that it's her life, which no one can live for her, and she and the man tell her parents that they will be together no matter what. The parents are enraged for awhile and forbid them to see each other, but somehow love prevails and they live happily ever after, riding off into the most beautifully described rose-orange sunset.
But it's different in real life. The parents yell and scream, and call the daughter names, say she doesn't appreciate all they've done for her. They claim that she's ruining her life. They stop calling her and soon she becomes the family pariah. They have family gatherings without her and cringe at the mention of her name. And all the while there she is, with the man she loves and his family for support (if she's lucky). She appreciates them, but it's never the same. Crying secretly in bed at night, the daughter wishes she could feel her mother's arms around her once again and lay her head in her mommy's lap the way she used to. She wants to consult her about the way her hair's been growing, or why she feels so tired in the evenings. She wants to tell her mommy about her days at work and how it's all so rough. She wants to hear her mother say that she is proud to have her as a daughter, but that's not possible. She chose to be with the man she loved and sacrificed her family. And no matter how happy that man could ever make her, there is still something very large missing from her life that he can't give her. Though he loves her and knows she is happy with him, he still feels that sadness inside her when he pulls her close. He hears her quiet sobbing and feels the way they make her tremble. And he resents her family for feeling that he's not good enough, that he's less of a man because he's different. But you don't read that in books.
People say, "It's your life; live it how you want." But they don't understand that whole other part that comes along with it. So I hide my most fulfilling relationship from my family.
I am off to deep-condition my tresses. Until tomorrow.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
I'm sure you've noticed that I've finally blotted the thick coat of lip gloss from my blog and replaced it with more of a calm demure look. Before you open your mouth to ask, yes, this is indicative of internal changes. Don't fret; I will still keep all my sexy panties, just in a tiny little drawer for very special occasions. This is a time for full coverage, introspection, dreaming...and it won't involve me "getting around" for a long, long time. It's sad, I know, but don't worry. The sluttiness isn't gone forever, promise; I'm still the same person. Just grant me this time meanwhile to get myself together.
I hate going to the doctor and have been fighting it ever since I got sick early last Friday morning. After spending a week like this, however, I'm really motivated to just go and get taken care of, even if it's by incompetent University doctors. Someone tell me what's going on inside me, and why won't it stop? :(
I hate going to the doctor and have been fighting it ever since I got sick early last Friday morning. After spending a week like this, however, I'm really motivated to just go and get taken care of, even if it's by incompetent University doctors. Someone tell me what's going on inside me, and why won't it stop? :(
I'm feeling open and forthcoming, dearies, so here are some things you may or may not want to know about me. This list is in no particular order, just listed as things drift into my mind:
1. I still watch cartoons, namely The Simpsons and the first hour of Adult Swim on Cartoon Network.
2. I have a brother in the military.
3. I still sleep in the same twin-sized bed that I had when I was 3.
4. My favorite foods are eggplant parmesan and french fries.
5. I have a weakness for tall, dark, and very handsome men, even though they make me sick because they're so pretty.
6. I would love to go to Spain someday.
7. I have pretty acute social anxiety.
8. I dress poorly mostly because I get frustrated when I try.
9. I get frustrated very easily.
10.I get disappointed very easily as well.
11.I've been with Josh on and off for going on 5 years now. We met in Chicago during the summer after my freshman year of high school.
12.I like to people watch.
13.I'm a Christian.
14.I don't feel like a very good Christian.
15.I enjoy discussions but don't feel well-equipped to say anything meaningful.
16.I talk a lot.
17.I type without looking at my keyboard.
18.I like word games, namely Literati on Yahoo! Games.
19.I'm trying to make friends with old enemies.
20.I like feeling feminine.
21.Green is my favorite color.
22.I have brown eyes, and brown hair (now... before it was natural black).
23.I don't think I want to dye my hair again.
24.My brother is older than me by 2 years and 5 months to the day.
25.I was born vaginally, at around 8am--just in time for school.
26.I like school when it doesnt make me feel stupid.
27.I feel stupid pretty often.
28.I will be living in the dorms for yet another year--my junior year.
29.I rarely carry purses.
30.I forget things very easily.
31.My head is often in the clouds instead of here on earth.
32.I like social drinking, but I don't drink.
33.I'd rather have fun without alcohol, with a group of wild people.
34.Sometimes I binge/purge. Don't give me that look.
35.I'm 5'5''.
36.I like to stay up late.
37.When in the car with someone, I'd rather keep the radio off so we can talk.
38.My taste in music includes alternative, rock, some pop, older r&b, and an occasional something by Shania Twain.
40.My dad used to make fun of me for listening to "white music", but he listened to Led Zepplin.
41.I sometimes envy white people.
42.My culture is really important to me.
43.I like my hair curly.
44.I like to sing.
45.I sing in the shower.
46.I like making out.
47.I don't have any female friends.. I keep pushing them away.
48.Writing is really important to me.
49.I would love to be fluent in French but see #9.
50.I care what people think so much that I'm reluctant to tell them my boyfriend is white.
So.. that list is by no means all-inclusive. Don't use the info you learned for blackmail purposes, either, you bums. But I love you anyway... Just felt the need to say some of that stuff. You can go back to your mindless surfing now.. Night!
