I'm Excited But Not In Two Different Ways

Yesterday passed well and I was reminded that I can survive anything. Yesterday I worked on two papers I had due today and I hadn't finished but I needed sleep. I ended the night with a cigarette and a conversation with Jess before sleeping like a bloated panda in a field of bamboo. Woke up close to seven, got stuff together, and was in the student center, furiously editing my 9:30-due paper within half an hour. I provided as much extra information as I could and hauled ass to the FLRC (The Foreign Language Resource Center- or how I call it, the Flerk) to type it up, print it out, and haul my second ass to class to turn it in.

After that I went to the circle and was greeted by Graham who jumped out of his chair and said cheerfully, "I've got something for you!"

And handed me a stack of CDs, perfectly packaged in a plastic case in the shiny, delightful stack.

• Astronautalis: The Mighty Ocean and Nine Dark Theaters
• The Beatles: Let It Be, Sgt. Pepper's, Revolver
• Cake: Fashion Nugget
• The Decemberists: Her Majesty
• Foetus: Hole, Deaf
• Grateful Dead: American Beauty
• Man Man: Six Demon Boy
• Modest Mouse: The Lonesome Crowded West, The Moon and Antarctica
• The Mountain Goats: The Sunset Tree
• Neutral Milk Hotel: In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
• Of Montreal: Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies, Hissing Fauna Are You The Destroyer?, Satanic Panic in the Attic
• Psychedelic Furs: Talk Talk Talk
• Silver Jews: American Water
• Sufjan Stevens: Come On and Feel the Illinoise
• Tom Waits: Swordfishtrombones, Blood Money
• T-Rex: The Slider
• Weezer: The Blue Album
• The White Stripes: Icky Thump
• Velvet Underground &Nico~ Mix

I almost couldn't shut my gob.

Went tp the writing center to edit another TPS paper for 12:30. Double spaced it, printed it out, and hauled ass a third time to class. I was the second peron to perform and I NAILED my presentation. I used a chair as a prop and kept my audience engaged without breaking character. I was incredibly pleased with myself.
And on an alternative note relative to performance, I saw a poster for auditions for Spring Awakening on March 8th. I'm thinking I may audition and use Fiona Apple's "Shadowboxer" because that's the only sheet music I have that falls under alternative rock. I sincerely hope to get in because people make national touring companies that way all the time but I do have my realistic doubts. I'd love to audition for something other than a school production, though. Plus it's 11-Tony award winning Spring Awakening. Why the hell not?

This week will be busy but not as busy as last week where I couldn't sit down to think. I have no rehearsal today, have to summarize scenes 14-20 of Paris Je T'aime for class and I really wish we did a skit instead, have a compare/contrast paper on Pygmalion and My Fair Lady due on Thursday. But Thursday night, I may go to karaoke in Stockbridge with Scott, Kayna, and Rob. Then I get to drive the Moonlight Sonata to the Tabernacle for temple with Hannah and Regina! That's going to be an exciting show!

Gaining My Religion: All Jesused Out

It's Sunday night and I feel as if I've abandoned my blog for the sympathetic ears of mankind. I'm such an adulteress.

It has been a rather dense week despite the lack of rehearsals that devour a collective 14 hours of my week. I have made my spiritual journey and have come out enlightened, informed, and more respectful.

I attended Hopewell Baptist Church on Monday with Christian and Jessica because Chris(tian) told me that Jamey Ragle was going to be there, he incorporates stand-up comedy into his sermon, you should come, Lee! Like I said, I did, and really enjoyed it. The congregation at Hopewell was incredibly friendly and informal. I felt welcome as soon as I walked through the door and I really liked that. Ragle was entertaining and I liked what he had to say about virtues in general. Thus, when he said he was going to be doing another set on Wednesday, I told Chris I'd go with him. I like entertainment, I like agreeing with people, I like the camaraderie of my friends, and it's not like I can fuck up in church.

Wednesday, we sit down in the second to last row in the back. It was Denise (Jill's friend), Jill (Chris's ma), Chris, Me, Vivian, Beth, Jessica, and Mike and we took up half a poor excuse for a pew (it's not a pew until it's made of wood and I bash my knee on it). There was a larger crowd than Monday and two rows in front of us there were a handful of bikers (and apparently there's a group of bikers called God's Rolling Thunder who congregate in a bar)! The service begins with lots of songs that are poppy and uplifting. And I love this feeling everyone is getting (except for Vivian who found the service to be awkward but I can understand why she ducked out), the vibe in the room, and how, in general, communities conglomerate together in this communitas in a peaceful manner. Nobody with torches and pitchforks. Everyone smiling, waving, embracing, shaking hands.

Jamey, the traveling evangelist, goes into the pulpit and goes into his schtick. He tells his jokes, makes fun of his wife, and talks about people stepping into stupid.

Now, my view of the Bible (or any holy book, for that matter) is that if you take religion out of it, the stories are all fables. They teach you good values to live by not out of fear of unholy wrath but just the sheer guilt of knowing that you have betrayed your fellow man and you have to live with that. So when we read these passages, I weed out the parts about Jesus and absorb the rest.

The service has gone on for about an hour and Jamey decides to pray for people. If the opportunity for someone to pray for me arises, I say go right ahead. We all pray to the same god essentially and a prayer can't hurt anyone. So I raise my hand, thinking, "Sure! Pray for me! Ain't no harm in it!"

Then he asks us to come pray by him. And I find myself walking up to the pulpit, past hundreds of pairs of eyes watching me as I go to kneel on these steps. I see Mike crying and I see Jamey's tiny eyes and enormous, God-fearing body as he has us bow our heads and recite the words he says.

At first the prayer was fine. It was all, "Thank you this and forgive me that and I'm not worthy" and then he says

"AND I ACCEPT JESUS CHRIST AS MY LORD AND SAVIOR."

Now my recitation at this time had tapered off. Just like with the Pledge of Allegiance, I pay attention to the words that come out of my mouth. Immediately, I felt sick. I rose and saw Chris barreling down the aisle with his arms outstretched and the happiest boyish face I'd ever seen him sport as he bear-hugged me and Beth amidst the resounding applause of the congregation. I whispered to Beth," Tell me why I did that." And she said, "It felt good."

But it didn't. I felt like I had committed mutiny to my beliefs. I can't accept Jesus as my savior because I don't believe in that. If I have a burden, if I fuck up, if anything happens to me, that's fate that I alone must resolve and it should not be placed on someone else's shoulders. God will provide wisdom, signs, and small interventions, but he's not going to just take away my problems. I am responsible for what I do. I think that life is a struggle that once you get past an obstacle you are stronger, wiser, and can take on further challenges. Accepting Christ for me is like a cheat sheet; I just can't do it. I'm happy for people who find faith in Christianity but I can't. I'm supposed to be a good person just not to be an evil one and I don't want to have a get out of jail free card. I want to serve my term, get my parole, precariously finish my probation and be all the wiser for it.

So I go back to my seat with Jill and then went outside for some air. She came looking for me afterwards and I told her that I felt like I betrayed myself because, since I was ten, I have considered myself Jewish.

She says, "You want to go to Temple? I'll take you to Temple."

So Friday, I go with her to Congregation Beth Hallel, a Messianic Jewish Temple. Messianic Jews= Jews for Jesus. But it's the closest to Jew I'm going to get this week so I might as well go!

I absolutely loved it! All the kitchy traditions were part of the service and pretty much, it was a Jewish ceremony; the only difference is that they believe Yeshua (Jesus) was the only one to ascend to God's side. I loved the antics of Rabbi Solomon, I loved the music, I loved the small congregation, I loved the cantor, I loved the funny yarmulkes, I loved it, loved it, loved it. I felt so much more a part of something there. Although, I loved it though, I would like to test-drive some more temples.

I returned to Scott and Kayna's and yesterday, when they came to pick me up for hang outs, Rob and Scott put coffee filters on their heads and blasted Hava Nagilah from the car. Then Rob went, "Oh look! A penny!"
To which I replied, "Don't make me put you all in the goddamn ashtray."
Scott: "Oh yeah, Rob. This is a Volkswagen."

I went to Hopewell again this morning because I ended up sleeping over at Jessica's with Mike and Chris. The same Monday tripod attended 11:00 service. The pastor was less engaging and talked about tithing more than I cared to listen to so I started reading the Bible from Genesis. There are a lot of allusions in literature to the Bible and so I think I may actuall read it from an English language standpoint.

But I have heard enough about Jesus Christ to last me till his birthday. I could be up for a mosque, though.

Pledge of Disobediance

I was originally planning to do a post on the particularly riveting religious escapades of this evening but Matt got me so worked up politically that I can't resist regurgitating my plight.

I do not say the pledge of allegiance. Ever. I stopped when I was a sophomore in high school and haven't since. I did it then to be a non-conformist and have only recently discovered now why I never picked it up again.

I cannot blindly recite an oath and swear before God stating that I am forever loyal to the country of my origin. Not only do I believe that separation of Church and state is a must (in this case, however, for the rhythm of the oath, I would not omit "Under God"), but paying attention to the words that come out of your mouth is a practice everyone in the world should follow. And I know that I do not fully appreciate the country I live in in order to truthfully say those words. It's like communion in the Catholic church- taking communion to a non-Catholic means drinking bad wine and chewing a cardboard wafer to represent ingesting the body of Christ. To a Catholic, you are committing cannibalism each time you do it, actually ingesting the body of Jesus into your body. As a proud American, I would hope to feel more uplifted and have more of a sense of pride by stating the pledge. But until I can truly see how good I have it in my home country, I cannot pledge my allegiance.

I want to live in a country that I want my children to grow up to be grateful for. I want to live in a country that is renowned for making peaceable decisions that benefit their constituency and not just their politicians. I want to truly live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. And until we can eliminate and neuter the idiots who breed these days, I can't be happy to be an American. I can't be happy in a country where people cannot have the right to choose whether or not they can marry someone of the same sex or have the ability to have an abortion.

I can't be happy in a country where they do not separate the dumb kids from the smart kids and use the smart ones to their advantage and full potential, instead of pursuing the futile thought that these dumbass paste-eating anklebiters may actually have a shot at a well-paying job in the future. I hate to sound like a judgmental bitch but that No- Child-Left- Behind shit is useless and is an insult to honors students. It waters down the intelligence people have to offer and sets standards that are educationally appalling. Pay for the smart kids to go to college; don't have tests that idiots can pass. Follow Britain's example and raise children to know history based on dates. Teach rhetoric. Do not ask "what is the shape of the tip of a pencil?" on a national standardized test. No wonder people in Europe make fun of our accents and everything we do…

I want to live in a country where I can do what I want in my own house. It used to be somewhat legal to smoke crack in your house and the government couldn't do a damn thing about it. Then some bitch complained and it was all taken away. It is my property and I want to be able to do what I want on the turf I pay to live on. Legalize marijuana if it is proven nothing bad has come of it besides the loss of the occasional brain cell. They tax cigarettes out the ass; why not do the same with pot? There is no harm in it and it saves a lot of kids getting into trouble on the black market and buying a bag of Chronic that's laced with God only knows what. If it's government regulated, it can't be that bad and it contributes to the economy in a beneficial manner.

I would be happy if my country could just adhere to my "Live and Let Live" policy. Take advantage of things that can be used to your advantage. That's why they are there and that is their purpose. I will be happy to be the next Che Guavara (albeit not an advocate for Communism) and take the role of being a revolutionary. I believe in the freedoms that we have in the constitution and I do not like how day by day one of them suddenly goes off the map like Jimmy Hoffa. And I may actually start fighting for my freedoms one of these days.

One Angry Dwarf and 200 Hail Marys for Jews

I am very glad I am Jewish. Even if I am not officially or by blood relation. The Jews are sensible- their service takes place in the evening. Albeit you have to be that kid who celebrates the Sabbath on a Friday instead of gaming with your buddies but at least you don't have a Messiah. Those meshugganah kids who have a Messiah have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn on the day of rest to go worship their vicarious god. Sure sounds damn practical.

Places of worship used to make me uncomfortable. I was so obnoxiously agnostic to where I had a vision of God but did not agree with every Christian who wanted my body present as a follower. I thought Jesus was a man with some really great ideas but found the whole heaven-sent thing to be horseshit. Hence me determining myself Jewish- I agree with the concept of there being a God, no messiah just yet, and that the ten commandments should be followed. But the unsettling feeling of people trying to convert me repelled me from ever setting foot in a place of worship and brought forth another aspect of the Jews I love- they don't go out and arbitrarily try to add followers to a quota. You have to want to convert on your own accord.

Now I have never experienced full frontal Catholicism first hand (same for Judaism, if you want to know the truth of it, but I'm working on a remedy for that), so I chose for my ritual project for Karen's performance studies class that I would attend Mass. I went with Shannon and her kids, the family I babysit for and complain about endlessly, and had an unforgettable experience.

I was very surprised to feel welcome in this Church. The building itself seemed open its doors and say, "Feel free to explore but don't break anything." My goal was to reproduce my experience on paper and in performance while being as descriptive and unbiased as possible. I sat in the back, took notes on note cards, looked around and followed other peoples' actions. Generally being as conspicuous as possible and sticking out like a weed in a rosebush.

I knew I wasn't supposed to take communion and the lady who was distributing the wafers was cordial to me after I briefly informed her I was not Catholic. With a smile she said, "Oh, let me give you a blessing" and then she pulled my ear close to her face and whispered, "In the body of Christ, may Jesus Christ keep you on this day." Now, I may not believe in that, but I always thought that if someone else does and they are not pushy about it, then what hurt can a prayer or a blessing do? It's a good thing in their beliefs and generally, all religions teach you to be a good person so it's not like it's specifically telling you something bad.

Once out of there, I helped Shannon wrangle her children together. I was on my way to get a free cup of coffee when this woman Deedee stopped me. She told me she was a friend of Shannon's and with this holier-than-thou tone of voice, she reprimanded me by saying, "You know it's really not cool to let kids crawl all over the seats like that."

Okay. I had to take charge of Brody because the Sunday school program did a last minute cancellation. Actually getting Shannon's children to listen to anyone is like nailing jello to a tree and actually enforcing discipline upon someone else's children is not my place. I did the best I could to coax him off the bench but then figured if he wasn't bothering anyone directly, it shouldn't be a problem. If anything, God would forgive me. Plus, it's not like I lived almost 20 years of my life without the common knowledge of keeping dirty shoes off clean furniture. I have a mother, y'know.

I gave her a half-assed apology and then she asks me how I know Shannon. I tell her she lives down the street from me and I watch her children. She asks me if I am Catholic and I decide not to lie. Immediately, sirens go off in her head and once again I feel ostracized and banished. I mean I have brown hair and brown eyes- deduce what potential religions I could be affiliated with. And then her eyes widen and she suppresses a small gasp when she asks me "You didn't take communion, did you?" and all her worry is released with an "Oh good" when I tell her no.

What would happen, however, if a non-Catholic took communion? I will never know.

So apart from the pretentious encounter at the end of the service, it was rather interesting. The priest was from Ireland and made his sermon entertaining with some dryly delivered quips. The songs were dreary but Catholic guilt differs from that of the Jews on a plain of understanding I fathom not. I may return next Sunday for refreshers but I fear the 5 feet, 150 pounds of Deedee telling me how to raise other peoples' children again.

I Hate This Basement; It's Like Truth Serum

The past few days have been rather filling. Yesterday I had to go to school for a performance of mine and one to watch, both hours apart from eachother. Rachel DeJulio and I were cast as nurse and patient for a small rehearsed-improv sketch about ethics in nursing. With me type-cast as patient, we came up with a "good idea, bad idea" skit where one nurse would be very brash, ornery, short-tempered, and would not give a damn about the patient. Nurse number
2 would be more empathetic to the patient and complete the tasks needed as well as efficiently give the patient what they request. We performed for roughly 400 people and didn't break a sweat.

Then I eventually went home and took a nap and afterwards returned to school to go see Fuddy Meers. I adored the show and loved the selection of music they used (Regina Spektor was playing when I walked in and sat down and they played Tegan and Sara, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and lots of other stuff as well). There is a matinee tomorrow and if you can get a stand-by ticket since the show is sold out, I highly recommend it. I really want to buy a copy of the play to have on hand for myself.

Today I stayed at home. I cleaned my bathroom when I had every intention of cleaning my room. I cleaned the downstairs bathroom as well. So now I did all those nice things that make guests think we have a clean house when they should know better than to assume.
Tomorrow should be an interesting day for me. I'm going to church, something I haven';t done in a long time. It's not that I actually have had an epiphany; I have a project. And this project requires that I do to some place of religious ceremony that I do not affiliate myself with. Thus, going to temple with the other yentas is not an option although I wish it were. Then on Monday, hopefully, I am going to church again only to a Baptist one with a preacher who apparently works comedy into his sermons and he's hilarious. I think humor is a great way to make your constituency grow so I will be delighted to see that.

I should go to bed though. God will pass judgement on me at 8 in the ruddy morning.

Oui, Et Ta Tenue Est Completement Ridicule!

I attended all my classes today, only one third of them being against my will and wouldn't you know it, it's my French class. Forgive me for sounding like a rude, judgmental bitch even if I am but my teacher really lacks panache. She is as sweet as she can be but Noah, my last professor, had spunk, color, pizzazz, and used colorful language. He has visible emotions, he showed interest- he wrote his dissertation on French war films. The man is a genius who likes to sit with me, other students of his, and my friends, have a smoke, chat, and come to our New Years Party. I think this is unbelievably awesome. Dr. Hoyt, however, can smile until the cows come home but it gives me no motivation to work in her class. I need someone who visibly seems smarter than me to intimidate me into a job well done. Like Karen Robinson does to me on a daily basis…

Rehearsal was abnormally short today. I was there for about 45 minutes until they told the girls to leave. I have more rehearsal tomorrow and then I can go see Fuddy Meers.

So after my short run, I went over to Case's with Bethany and we talked in the car completely in French and cursed at drivers. Wiping your ass with silk has never been so much fun.

Whence I returned to my home, I found my mother downstairs in the basement going through old clothes. There were some clothes she got me when I was younger that I hated and never wore. I tried them on now, mind you 8 or 9 years later, and love them. Some of the clothes I wore back then don't fit me now because they're too big. In comparison to what I look like now, I was a fat kid. But now I have clothes from when I was like 11 that I still fit into. I also got a pair of my mom's old jeans that were a size six 20-25 years ago. They fit perfectly but sizes have changed a lot (increasing). Today's size 4 was a lot bigger than 1983's size 4.

I'm done for the night. Need my sleep. Night night.

How Sick Can Dogs Get?

I had a very eventful day yesterday. I woke up at about 6, wanting to die. I felt like I swallowed insulation like cotton candy and was repeatedly coughing it up. But I decided to go to school anyway because I felt better than I had the day before, believe it or not.

So I get to school and my friend Anikah (She's Hungarian. I'd love to know how to spell her name because I love saying it. It has a guttural noise.) told me about how the health clinic here would give you a free doctor's appointment and if you need a prescription, they can give it to you for cheap. I'm tickled by this idea and I decide to walk down to the clinic to do this.

So I walk to the Wellness Center, where I would think the clinic would be nearby. It's not. It's all the way across campus, down the back hill, across the street, behind the dorms. I take a small hike to building 52, open the door to find a basket of flavored condoms (which doesn't make sense because they're only supposed to be used for ORAL sex not INTERCOURSE; sure, it's better than nothing, but sex ed could be better) and little boxes filled with free pain medication. I take six in case I lose one and step up to the counter, make my appointment and sit in the waiting room. I saw all these posters that basically said, "THIS INFECTION COULD BE LURKING IN YOUR VADGE. YOU DON'T KNOW AND EVEN IF IT ISN'T, YOU SHOULD TELL YOUR PARTNER OR ANYONE YOU MAY SLEEP WITH. TAKE SOME FLAVORED CONDOMS."

I eventually go in for my appointment and the nurse I got, she was a little short and haughty. Very Christina Yang. Eventually she developed a sense of humor or at least felt comfortable. The nurse shadowing her was nice.

Although I couldn't remember the last time I menstruated so they looked at me and were like, "Could you be pregnant? Why didn't you take some flavored condoms?" I just lied and said sometime in January, which I think was right but as long as I'm not having sex, I don't think I need to keep track of it. I hate it anyway and the cramps that accompany it.

Nurse swabs my throat with a long green cutip and is extra surprised that I didn't gag (I should have told her I'm very experienced with flavored condoms-lol; truth is, I have next to nothing of a gag reflex) and she puts the swab onto a plastic doohickey and has me wait for ten minutes to see if I have strep throat. She comes back looks at it, does a double take and says, "Huh! You actually do have strep. I didn't think you'd have it. Have some penicillin." I look at the strep test and it reminds me of a pregnancy test, making me think, "That little plus-sign is so unholy."

So I got to miss class (but shh-don't tell my parents). And I skipped out on most of rehearsal even though I tried to function but ended up being pathetic. And once I got home, I was in a 2 hour coma in my bed, happy as hell.

Now, when I cough, it's still productive but it doesn't hurt. I'm very congested but I'd rather be congested than extremely dry. So I'm getting better and I'm getting happier.

They Flow and Chart and Quink and Dink

My illness has moved straight for my lungs now. I can't cough through my throat but, with applied effort, I can get an immortal chest erupting cough. Can you say bad ass?

I have taken a Delsym and have 2 Theraflu strips and a large handfull of coughdrops to last me the day. I will probably get home late and will hopefully see Fuddy Meers tonight. I do have my doubts but you never know.

I almost got to stay home today, which I think is absolutely ridiculous. Mom was debating on letting me stay home. I'm in fucking college. It's not like people know I'm purposefully not attending class as soon as you drop me off on campus. Honestly, she doesn't know what I could do. I just find it funny (funny-sad) that she actually thinks she can still have a say-so as to whether I take off a sick day. And I have only missed my French class once (it was a food day. Of all the goddamn days to skip class, I sure know how to pick winners) and the rest of my classes, I have not missed a day. I'm on good terms with all my professors. But I have rehearsal today and for the rest of this long grift.

Update at 7:40 because the screen was still up

I'm staying home. I have no gag reflex and some of these coughs sound like I may hurl. It's dead attractive. I get all the boys down on their knees with palm fronds this way.

Yay. I get to email my professors, watch tv, study, be a shitty Nerevarine, and piss my mother off! I should totally get some brownie points.

I may update later. Or not.

Confucius Say Six Year Old Boy Should Not Down Three Mountain Dew

Today was most excellent fun, first sarcastically and then in all seriousness.

My NyQuil didn't work last night so I woke up at 4:15 in the morning, hacking up organs that weren't necessary (appendix, spleen) and took the heating pad and Life of Brian downstairs to watch while I would sit in my semi-conscious stupor. I watched it halfway, then watched the news with Mom, Hannah Montana with Marceline, then watched View from the Top, which was cute and funny in a farcical type way and then I watched about half of Frankie and Johnny, starring the immortally gorgeous Michelle Pfieffer (who will never age) and the equally handsome Al Pacino (my mother thinks it unsettling that I like men over forty).

Then I got dressed up and drugged out so I could go outside after the quarantined 48 hours I spent in the living room to go to Meng Liuxi's house for the Chinese New Year Party.

I was mistaken to be Case's wife twice. That was grossly entertaining. But I met a nice, cute boy there who was visibly smart, social, geeky enough for me, and had a good sense of humor. Oy, if only he were Jewish...but I digress. I ate lots of food, shmoozed alot, coughed a lot, blew my nose a lot, and smoked a little to find that my body could take it.

We played Mah Jong and I am a beast at that game. My only problem is that I can't count in Chinese so the character numbers were a tad confusing but I eventually memorized some of them, which helped me win about 4-5 games. I want my own set now. It's much better than rummy.

Hopefully tomorrow will be eventful as well. I hope Audrey actually calls me, arranges transportation, and can get that photoshoot done. Maybe I can get some free headshots out of this! Or at least cheaper ones.

A tout alors!

I Have No Organs and Sound Like Tom Waits

I have no more organs. I coughed them all up.
I am the sickest sod in the history of ever and would like to be put into a coma right now.
Thankfully, I just had some NyQuil so my wish should be granted in about 20 minutes.

My phlegm is all kinds of yellow. That could be from the sickness or the Chinese food I ate.
My entire head is a compressed inflatable ball that's being sat on so my eyes feel like they're about to be launched through their sockets and my head will be slowly removed via melonscoop.
My body has been metaphorically pelted by large stones varying in sizes.
My hands have a small rash which is just a tad bit bothersome.
My nose could not be lubricated any more than it is already.

It's a bitch to smoke but having a cold does allow me to be bitchy on places I would want to be bitchy regardless of my health. There are times when Jess acts inexplicably rude when she's on the phone with me (interrupting me to yell at the dogs, talk to her roommate at length) and today when I called her and she answered, she told me to hold on and continued to argue with Rachel, leaving me to hear about their apartment woes. I hung up the phone and took a small nap.

NyQuil's kicking in. Time to have something soothing for my throat and a big sleep.

And It's a Thursday and It's Only 9:00am

I have a leaf-blower in my throat. And every time I cough, it makes the trees twitch in fear. And it makes my eyes water.

I have made it through December and January without being too sick and I guess February's catching up all thanks to Nathan. If that bastard had stayed home and not snotted all over the trash cans and anywhere in the vicinity of where I breathe, I'd still be healthy right now. I hope the theraflu strip I took will help.

I'm stuck in the Wilson building this morning because it has chairs that cater to short people who like to have their feet touch the floor when they type. Plus they have the brand new Macs that have the paper-thin key board which makes my iMac want to commit seppuku more than usual. 

I read the school newspaper earlier and found that I can participate in a sleep study for a possible $400 which I could totally use. I can also participate in a memory study and be compensated but I'm not entirely how much but as long as I don't grow a third ear on my stomach, I'm fine with it.

I'm going to go bum cigarettes off of friends.

Stuck Between Barack and a Hard Face

I woke up today at 6:38 after a night of Internet videos and a game of strip Guitar Hero, feeling like I pulled the plug on my own mental drain. I got downstairs (after fumbling around my room furiously to get all my books and clothes for the day) at 7:17, two minutes past when I'm supposed to leave with Gary. He told me I lucked out because he was drinking another cup of coffee. So I ran around to get my lunch and a soda and we leave.

I get to school at 7:45, bum a Basic off a fellow future cancer patient and get started on an informal essay on the American class system (we don't really have one; it's very open to change and almost indefinable) that is due for my English class. It's difficult to start but I get it done, only to realize I could easily pan it out to six pages if I tie in Barbara Ehrenreich's cerulean liberal bias, Marxism, the Indian caste system, and my affair with Charles Darwin (I'll post that essay later). I hang out and smoked until 10:45 to head off to class.

Only to find out that my classmates were sitting outside the door and no one bothered to look at the "CLASS CANCELLED" sign. So I told everyone to leave.

That was exciting because none of my classes had ever been cancelled before. So I went back to the circle. Scott and I make the hajj to Gateway Newstand and buy cigarettes. But something catches both our eyes. There was something that was condomesque but not quite a condom…

It was a vibrating cockring.

So we leave in a fit of chuckles and chortles, Scott telling me how he should buy it and give it to Nathan. Then I say," No, lemme do it. I'll sit in his lap and give it to him."

An evil smile illuminates Scott's face as his left foot swings behind him and we walk back and smack the money down on the table to make our infamous purchase.

We trek back to the circle as I get into character as my alter-libido ego Slutbanwalla. We reach the circle and there is practically everyone we know or at least familiar with. And there's Nathan with his feet propped up on another chair. So I walk over with the bag in tow, perch really close on his lap and say, "Nathan, I have a present for you!" He smiles and chuckles, only to do a hilarious double-take that sends us into more uproarious laughter.

Hollis ended up taking it, made a quick trip to the bathroom to put it on, and returned to show us he broke it.

I also got a free dogtag in the student center.

I got the tree because it looks very similar to the kind of tree I want as a tattoo. It was either that, the Grateful Dead emblem, or the Darwin fish (which I would have signed the fake name "Baba O'Reilly" to get it but I didn't).

So at 3:25 I head to rehearsal only to find out it's cancelled for today and the rest of the week. Groovy. I didn't have to be at school at all today.

But I did manage to make it home in time to go vote in the primaries. I put democrat on my little form thing and, for me, it's either Hillary or Barack. And the Hildabeast's icey cold lesbian deathstare about scare the pants off of me, I'm stuck with Obama and I'm fine with that. I hope that if he wins the presidency, he does a good job and gets rid of No-Child-Kicked-In-The-Behind. That'll be a good day.

And now I feel like I've accomplished more than ever when, in actuality, all I've done is feel more patriotic. A tout a l'heure!

The Lesser of Two Awkwards

Yesterday was going to be a good day. I had hung out with Lisa, Jess and Rachel the previous night and despite the fact that we were all penniless as VH1 celebreality has-beens, we managed to have a good bit of fun and agreed to do it the next night. I agreed to accompany Jess the next day to sell her 8 textbooks.

I woke up yesterday and putzed around, dolled up my myspace, took a shower, called Jess and she tells me that she’ll be later than expected because Rachel’s insipid, monochromosomal raccoon/dog mix Luke committed doggy vandalism to their living room. Apparently dogs hold grudges and when they get pissed off or bored, they say “To Hell with the hands that feed me,” chew up the couch, 2 unopened packs of cigarettes, an expensive Lane Bryant bra, and various other unmentionable objects, and then return to their ever-present shit-eating grin with dopey eyes.

And people still wonder why I am a cat person. The worst they can do is claw up the furniture. They don’t chew up much.

But I really needed to leave my house because Mom morphed into Mr. Hyde every fifteen minutes so I offered my hands to manual labor to save my sanity.

Jess took a while so I played Morrowind for about 20 minutes. I have had my Xbox for about four years and have had that game since we bought the console, so it’s understandable that it isn’t in pique condition anymore. But it was decent when I was the only one playing it because I wouldn’t have many games saved on it. Since my sister and mother have been playing, however, memory has been taken up with a ridiculous amount of saved games. My one game I had started when I first got the console. I was a level 60 assassin with a badass sword (several of them, in fact), entire towns fearing the very mention of my name, and a small cult following. I was invincible, omnipresent, and powerful. I loved my character.

So I load that game and three minutes into it, I decide to save before going into a cave when the screen goes black and tells me “Your disk might be dirty. Press A to Continue.” So I do BUT MY GAME EST DISPARU!

It’s completely gone. All that work, all the grief I got from my mother for killing everyone, all the fat loots. Bye bye.

At least mom was more sympathetic.

Apart from hanging out with friends and losing a complete chapter in my life, I made three decisions last night:

1.) When the play is over, I will hopefully be driving Professor Bruno better than I can now (enough to be allowed to take him out by myself as my car). So I will try like Hell to be employed as a server. They make a decent amount of cash which I like a lot better than a check) and I am such a people person that I can deal with damn near anybody.
2.) I would ideally like to live in the Brumby lofts right down the street from the square. The rent is pricey for just a studio but I can always abandon my dreams and find a cheaper studio. But they’re lofts, they’re nice, and it’s really close to the square. Funny that one has to pay outrageous prices to live the bohemian lifestyle and I have to aspire to do that.
3.) I have decided where I will go to Graduate school! I hope to get into Tisch in New York. Albeit, that is a long way off and a bucket of money in denominations I have never seen, but I would love to finally go to school up there. I wanted to do it originally for undergrad but it was like half a million dollars to go for all four years. I decided against it because I didn’t want to put that kind of debt on my parents, let alone myself.

But that’s a mini outline of how Lee wants her life to go. In that order! I expect friends to help me stick to it because I want to succeed at theatre and actually have something to show for it. And people can suggest side projects. I think after I get a job, it’ll probably take me a good while to save the money to pay for my own place. But I’ll be happy to do that.

That was much to long of a post. Oh well. I hope it was informative, inspirational, and indisputably the most life-affirming thing you’ve read today.

Women Don't Have Cocci

I'm in a frustrated mood right now. I am annoyed by all the minute things, like my fingertips being to damn big for the keyboard; my stepdad walking back and forth around the office, making the floorboards shake and crack with his weight on them; the paranoia I feel that he's reading over my shoulder even though I know he couldn't care less.

But I am excited about Case teaching me to drive my truck. Because once that happens, I can drive over to Adrian's and just show up and pick up my stuff. And, for good measure, I'll tell him I'm pregnant with one of his friend's babies because I fucked them all. And with a twinkle and a wave, I will ride off into the sunset, watching his bewilderment.

And then I can get a job. And money. And move out!

But now I need to bum money off people to pay Jess. Ei-yi-yi. But I may have a lead on some grunt work I can complete for some pocket cash.

I also found out that Bill Clinton is speaking at my school tonight and just found out about 2 hours ago. Great. I could spit on his limo and have the Patriot Act burn my ass.

There's not much to report other than rehearsal is going very well and I busted my ass on the stage, bruisig my coccyx and hurting the hinges where my thighs meet my pelvis so I walk like a orangutan. But everyone in cast gave me a hearty high-five yesterday saying, "How's your ass/back?" I was entertained and happy to see that people cared. It's nice commaradery.

Oh! And there is now a place where you can buy cigarettes on campus! The Local 537 (The Smoker's Union) has (non)officially endorsed it as our spot.

I suppose that's the end of that.