Holy CRAP

"Dear Chapel Choir and Chorale,

I am delighted to tell you that you will be invited to sing in Carnegie
Hall on Memorial Day Weekend 2006."

Granted, it costs almost a thousand dollars plus transportation so I can't, but I AM PUTTING THIS ON MY RESUME.

Hello!

I just got home from work, lalala!

I have to be at the Career Fair at 10:30 tomorrow, lalala!

I drank 10 cups of coffee today, lalala!

I have a test and two essays this weekend, lalala!

***edit***

songs I can now play on guitar with a reasonable degree of fluidity (though I do not guarantee fingerpicking):

Green Day, Time of Your Life
Jewel, You Were Meant for Me
Avril Lavigne, Complicated (shut up, it's easy!)
Barenaked Ladies, Enid

Germany Post, Sans Pics (Scroll Down)

Ok, ok, so I've been copping out for a month on Germany blogging. I know. I'm sorry. I really do intend to tell you all about the pics when I get them, but until then I'll talk about more general things - fun things - less laundrylisty things.

All my life, I have known I was lucky. Granted, I haven't always felt lucky, but intellectually I know that I've struck the jackpot. I have a family full of people who love me, amazing friends, a halfway-decent brain in the walnut, and enough financial resources to go to a school with more money than the GDP of several small nations combined.

I know that I am lucky, but I seldom feel blessed. I usually chalk that up to the agnosticism, but there were times on this trip when I could almost feel the finger of God reaching down to whack me on the head, whispering, "look what I gave you".

It's hard to explain, and I know it's coming out incoherent, but there were entire hours of the day when I could just feel my whole body hum from the pure joy and appreciation of being where I was, doing what I was doing, exactly at the right time and in the right place.

The night we stayed in the hostel in Switzerland, I felt it. We hadn't even done anything special that evening; it was too cold to walk around and we were too poor to eat out, so we sat in the commons room playing pingpong and Connect Four and watching The Simpsons in German. But I remember climbing into my bunk that night and listening to Jorge and Juan talk about music in Spanish, switching straight into German when Kristina came back into the bathroom, and sedgewaying into English as I threw in a Monty Python reference. I listened to the four of us jabber away in whichever language we felt most apt, and I just remember that I was drenched by this wave of joy so strong I thought I'd be swept away.

I can't explain it, really.

I've kind of lost the urge to blog now. Bwahaha! You lose. I'll come back to this later.

Procrastination = Pictures

More pics, mostly of Galicia.

The cliff we stopped at to take pictures of the sea, but looking inland:


Duke in Madrid loves unfriendly cows that try to gore us!:


RUN AWAY!:


La Torre de Hercules, a lighthouse in Galicia that's been around in one form or another since Romanity:


Dude.:


The (slightly blurry) view from our hotel-type-place:


I don't even know where this is from, but Tom took it and he is the man:


El Palacio Real and La Almudena, Madrid. My house is to the waaaaay left and back:


I have emailed that pesky Jorge for Germany pictures, but he has not pesked me back.

I Feel I Owe You An Apology

for there have been no substantive posts lately. But, you see, most of the time I'm in class, and when I'm not in class I'm doing homework, and when I'm not doing homework I'm at Trinity, and when I'm not at Trinity I'm in choir, and when I'm not in choir I'm with my residents, and when I'm not with my residents I'm sleeping, and when I'm not sleeping I'm watching Star Trek and trying to push back the despair.

This is not a trend I see ending any time soon.

I suggest you look elsewhere for your entertainment.

On February 13th, you should come to Duke Chapel or watch the streaming video

because we are singing this song

but it will be much better than this.

I cried.

The Intimidating Professor Has A Sense of Humor

The contents of a handout given to us by my grad class prof, which I share now for the good of bloggers everywhere:

Professor Wharton's personal prejudices about writing

Bad writing:

sentences beginning with a demonstrative pronoun (They have nothing yet to demonstrate.)
Example: This was, in fact, an unbelievably interesting idea. [What was?]

interesting
Example: This was, in fact, an unbelievably interesting idea. [To you? Why? Who cares? "Interesting" is only appropriate when talking to an artist whose work you do not like.]

hyperbolic words or phrases
Example: This was, in fact, an unbelievably interesting idea. [Very few things in the world are "unbelievable." The same is true for incredible. These terms are sophomoric. They should be avoided even by freshpersons.]

"in fact", "clearly", and the like
Example: This was, in fact, an unbelievably interesting idea. [No it isn't. Such phrases usually appear where the author is particularly uncertain of the argument.]

a "to be" verb followed by a preposition
Example: The building is of a classical style. [This is just bad writing. I want to thank Professor K. P. Bland for this proscription.]

qualifying words attached to the unqualifiable
Example: The building is very (almost, quite, particularly, etc.) unique. [It is or it isn't. The same is true of the original, the singular, and the pregnant.]

qualifying words that take back what is stated
Example: The building was rather incoherent. [It is or it isn't. With such terms you display your lack conviction {sic} in the validity of your own observations. Avoid words also like slightly, somewhat, etc.]

anthropomorphizing
Example: The building feels good. [How do you know? Did it laugh?]

copyright Annabel Wharton, 2003, and please god let this not be considered plagiarism.

Things to Do This Weekend

Friday:
classes:
German
Vanguardia
--
new RA interview
write Hegel paper
put measure numbers into Verdi
check music folder
not apply to Met (damn you and your not coming, recommendations!)
work 9-close

Saturday:
Choir retreat
write Hegel paper
other homework

Sunday:
Choir
new RA interview
work 10-close

Ironically enough, I wake up earlier Saturday and Sunday than I have all week.

And can I mention how excited I am about the choir retreat? I look forward to nothing more than five hours one day and three the next with 100+ people who seem to KNOW I'm a heathen. I don't understand. I don't act like a heathen while I'm there. Do I release pheromones, perhaps? Bastard heathen pheromones that are sensed by everyone but me? Bastard heathen evil pheromones that do the job of that neon sign I keep threatening to hang around my neck?

Mad props to the Spanish professor who made me tell my life story to the class yesterday, by the way. It's not like I mind being dysfunctional or anything, but it sure was great to get all my personal insecurities out in front of 15 other people like that. Yeah. Go me.

We Get An Advisory for THIS?

Severe Weather Alert from the National Weather Service

BANDS OF SNOW SHOWERS MOVING THROUGH CENTRAL NORTH CAROLINA WILL PRODUCE UP TO A HALF INCH OF DRY SNOW MAINLY ON GRASSY SURFACES AND LIGHTLY TRAVELED ROADWAYS THROUGH 2 PM. THE HEAVIEST SNOW WILL LAST ABOUT ABOUT AN HOUR IN MOST LOCATIONS RESULTING IN A DUSTING. SNOW SHOWERS WILL TAPER OFF BY 130...MANY ROADS WILL DEVELOP SLICK SPOTS AND SEVERAL COUNTIES ARE REPORTING WEATHER RELATED TRAFFIC ACCIDENTS. MOTORISTS ARE URGED TO SLOW DOWN OR DELAY TRAVEL UNTIL LATER THIS AFTERNOON. SNOW ACCUMULATIONS ACROSS THE ENTIRE AREA WILL REMAIN RATHER LIGHT AND LESS THAN AN INCH. SNOW WILL TAPER OFF THROUGH MID AFTERNOON.

You have got to be kidding me.

***edit***

I've been putting this off, but it's driving me crazy - does anyone have any idea why my computer makes noise when I move my mouse? Every time I move it it makes this little *tick*, which turns into a *buzz* when you move it more than a pixel at a time, which turns into a *homicidal impulse* when I'm using the comp for more than a minute at a time. Please help, I beg of you.

Things I Love

1. Residents. No, for real.
2. New/old badass SNICK keychain.
3. Dukies.
4. Absolutely hot new monitor.
5. Ginormous room.
6. 19 live things within ginormous room.
7. Basketball team that can only go up from here yet is still ranked #4.
8. East 2 staff.
9. Snow.
10. Chocolate.

Things I Hate

1. GFW Hegel.
2. Only 24 hours in the day.
3. Met application deadline.
4. Trinity people who try to take advantage of me and make me stay after my shift's over.
5. Having to change fish water.
6. Three week lag before first paycheck.
7. STILL CAN'T FIND NEVERWINTER NIGHTS CD.
8. GFW Hegel.
9. GF.
10. W Hegel.

Fun With Oopsieses

1. The monitor came today. Upon opening it I spent almost fifteen minutes screaming "Oh my God! I love you! You're so big! I love you!" before I realized that I live on a hall full of guys and should probably stop.

2. Stole this from Jeannie/Quitters. It shames me. Buffalonians are supposed to be nicer than this.

3. I have a fun story involving priests and me cussing. Ask me about it.

4. One of my residents came up to me today and said "Allison, we just wanted to let you know that we all think you're a really cool RA and like you a lot". This is a marked improvement from last year, when I came home one night to find "BITCH" scrawled on my white board (why didn't I tell you? I was ashamed, that's why).

Blue has been replaced by Red (pictures, you ask? probably not).

I inform you only because Red is the fishie equivalent of a sweet 11-year-old schoolgirl in a plaid skirt, shivering decorously in her new surroundings and starting at every movement. So of course, to get her used to her new buddies, I have put her next to Bert - the slobbering 70-year-old virgin.

Bert: I'm ready, Coach! Put me in! Put me in! I can make the touchdHEY, PRETTY LADY! HEY! I LOVE YOU! PRETTY LADY! NICE FINS! Look! Look! I still have most of my teeth!

Red: What. Are. You. DOINGTOME!?

If he jumps the partition into her bowl, you will be the first to know.

Good Things Also Come in Very Large Packages.

Everyone say hello to my friend Tommy.

Tommy will be joining us here at Allispain by the middle of next week.

I expect you all to treat him with the same love and respect you have given his predecessor, Otis. (best part is that the source page for the image includes obsolete in the title - sorry, Otis.)

In other news, I have gotten one grade back from last semester. In other other news, Banality and Biopolitics is going to kick my ass.

***edit***

On a completely unrelated note,

Unlucky Developments for Dorm Living

Campbell's Soup Commercial: ...they squeeze, sniff, and pick perfect produce. They're foodies, and for them we have created Campbell's Selects - soups with chunks of real vegetables, meats...
Allison: HA! Like I would be caught DEAD eating canned soup!

I AM FOODIE HEAR ME SUFFER AND DIE.

DAMMIT

My New Art History Professor, Who Will Probably End Up Being Very Cool: I don't believe in assigning excerpts from books. So all the books you bought you will be reading in their entireties. PS. Here's a couple hundred pages of Hegel you get to do this week.
Allison, Frightened Undergrad: AUGH!
MNAHPWWPEUBVC: Also, you are going to be writing your asses off this semester.
AFU: AUGH!
Trinity And Its Minions: Take a Friday closing shift!
AFU: Ok!
Chapel Choir: Here's a 9am Sunday rehearsal!
AFU: But work Friday night plus early Sunday mornings equal...NO SOCIAL LIFE! AUGH!
Class Schedule: I'm overloaded!
AFU: Me too, and it's only the first day!

Small Steps

I installed and am now using Firefox.

I feel so incredibly cool and alternative and beat-the-system, dudes.

Now you'll excuse me while I go wiggle into some Gap pants.

Next Time, They Need to Have Small Print

There are a good number of things they don't tell you when you accept a midyear RA entry position.

The first thing they don't tell you is that you're considered a new hire, no matter how many years of experience you have. This wouldn't be so painful (never mind my PRIDE) were it not for the fact that new hires get paid less and work more. I managed to talk my way back into my hundred bucks, but the extra six hours of training were awful. So was having to do the Behind Closed Doors roleplay again, though I did significantly better on this one (and got Patty to say she was good in bed, heehee). Stupid RA training. Stupid new hires.

What they also don't tell you is how much harder it is to come into a dorm that's not yours. Inevitably, no matter how many people you introduce yourself to, there is going to be at least a week in which you know no one in the building. There are over 60 people in Epworth, and the only one I could have a conversation with is the other RA, Fred. Don't get me wrong, I really like Fred. I don't so much like the fraction that he represents. I'm starting to recognize names and faces, but my only resident I feel comfortable with is my next-door neighbor (convenient, that).

All of this just means that I'm going to have to work that much harder at meeting everyone. But, as the Oracular Snail reminds us, "[I] still hate people", and having to meet them is pretty much my least favorite activity. Oh, woe is me! If only there were some way to KNOW them already, and then I could just maintain the relationships! For I am blessed with halfway decent powers of maintenance, believe it or not.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with getting out of bed, and by way of putting my feet on the floor I have created a personal bulletin board which is much more badass and artistic than the one I had last year. It features a Bills logo WHICH I DREW. If this is not effort, I don't know what is.

The third thing they need to include in the small print is that you will be reapplying for your job three days after you start it. The application, by the way, will ask you to refer to your experiences this year. The best answer to "please describe the last time you worked as a team" is probably not "well we went to O'Connell's this one time the night before a midterm at 2am to watch a basketball game, which is played by a team, and as a team we demolished untold buckets of beer". Nor is it "on election night all we psycho liberals gathered and cheered on our candidate as a team and managed to not ransack the entire city at 6am as a team". "You would not BELIEVE how many of us it took to get my one friend home that night!", etc.

By way of cheering myself, here is a very cute picture of Issa, me, Kori, and Jess at the DIM final banquet. Are we not adorable?

Allison and Fun with Organized Violence

shToday we had RA training. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but RA training is the single most painful and repetitive experience known to man. You can ask me sometime about spring training last year, and I will be able to recount to you the countless (8) (consecutive) hours of imprisonment in Von Canon wherein muttering various platitudes about the value of diversity was seen as a job skill. It was enough, I would tell you, to make you want to seek out and destroy everyone whose skin color varied from your own by two or more shades (I am, of course, being shallow. Diversity is not only represented by skin color, but by gender, sexual orientation, economic background, cultural traditions, and a varied palette of factors. All of these factors should be accommodated as thoroughly as possiOHMYGOD THEY GOT ME).

However, this year the Powers That Be have decided to take a different tack. Rather than having RA training be about training to be RAs (clearly a ludicrous and impossible idea), it is now about leadership skills – resume writing – IMPROVING yourself as a PERSON. (Comments that my inherent superiority clearly precludes improvement were not well-received.)

This is why we had a motivational speaker today.

I think ALL of us here know my opinion on motivational hacks. I mean, losers. I mean, speakers.

Now, I’ll be fair. We had the same speaker come to us last night and I learned quite a bit. I chalk this up to the fact that his speech had nothing to do with motivating and everything to do with tips on how to get a job, which I sorely needed. He seems to be a reasonably intelligent man. He clearly loves his work. He’s kind of cute, in a dorkily endearing way. He is madly in love with his wife, with whom he co-presents and who is as nice and enthusiastic as he. For all of this I give him much credit. It’s unfortunate that his career choice leads me to automatically knock off 100 points on my RespectOMeter (other examples: psychologists, college admissions workers, Ayn Rand)(she’s evil).

We got to the gym this morning having been told only to wear comfortable clothes and no heels. We said good morning. We stretched. We did really stupid icebreakers (the only thing I hate worse than icebreakers is RA training that includes icebreakers). I was good. I participated. I was on my very best humoring-you behavior. I was very proud of myself.

Then the dude got into the middle of the circle and explained the purpose of the jeans and the sneakers.
“Today, before you leave this room, you will all have broken a board with either your hand or foot.”

…would anyone be surprised if I said I switched very quickly out of humoring-you mode? I started jumping up and down. “Jeannie! We get to break stuff! Jeannie! I get to break a board! Yay! Jeannie! Let’s break some stuff! Yay!”

So we divided up into pairs and they passed us each a board and a crayon. The guy started talking: “Now, on the front of your board I want you to think of something that is holding you back in your life. It can be anything you want – but this is going to be the barrier* you are going to break* today when you break that board.” (* - keyword) I snickered and saw that Tyler, sitting in front of me, had written a note to his partner: “Your friendly neighborhood APA representative would like to remind you that cathartic therapy is very silly and does not work”.

I turned to my board and purple crayon. My finely honed analytical mind told me that to get to the breakage of stuff, I would have to play along (convincingly, even). I thought for a second before sneaking a look at my partner’s board. She was drawing stars on hers. “Oooh!” I thought to myself. “She’s using a metaphor! This must be a very deep and painful piece of personal history. Maybe we will have a breakthrough here today!” I figured if she was doing something serious, I should at least be half-serious about mine. I waited another minute and giggled to myself before writing I hate people in sprawling letters.

We turned to each other. “You hate people?” she asked me, puzzled.
“Yeah, well, sort of. I’ve always been really shy, and I hate meeting people, and I always assume that other people hate me.”
“You don’t seem that shy.”
“I’ve spent the past ten years trying to beat it out of myself. So, what’s yours?”
“Oh! I, um, couldn’t really think of anything. So I drew stars. I like stars.”
“Ah. Right.”

The mike guy came back to the center of the room. “Now I want you all to flip your board over and write what you will have for yourself after you break that barrier. What will make you happy? What will you be like? What will bring you joy?”

“Umm…” I thought. “Family Guy! Family Guy brings me joy! Wait. You can’t put Family Guy on a motivational board. The Simpsons? Umm…” I started to draw a spiral. It turned from a spiral to a snail…a snail with a speech bubble saying “Don’t worry, you’ll still hate people” coming out of his mouth -The Oracular Snail of Doom, as I aptly named him.

We spent a couple of minutes going over some basic karate skills and got into groups to BREAK our BARRIERS. I was screaming my lungs out, of course, because the only thing more awesome than breaking an inch-thick plank is watching someone else break an inch-think plank. My partner had to try a couple of times to break hers (it is much harder to palm heel strike a board than it is to kick a board), but then it was my turn. I positioned my foot.

“Wipe out all doubt from your mind,” said the dude. “Think only that you can do this.”

My thought process was something more like “I did this when I was thirteen. I know I can do this. I’m gonna make the AWESOMEST karate scream EVER when I make contact”. Apparently, when my board was on the cinderblock waiting for its judgment day, Terry saw the “I hate people” and burst out laughing. Ah, Terry – no longer my boss, so he can think it’s funny.

So I broke the board with accompanying scream (inaudible among the other groups’ cheers) and went back to my spot, reveling in the euphoria of just having kicked something’s butt. Then Jeannie went up and kicked HER board’s butt. With her HAND.

“Damn,” I thought, still screaming and cheering. “I should have tried it with my hand. I wonder if I could have done it with my hand. Damn! I want to try it with my hand!”

After a little more of the touchy-feely crap, we were dismissed for lunch. I made my way up to the guy. “Hi. Can I have another board?”

“Oh, did you not break through your barrier the first time?”

“No, I broke it pretty good…I, um, just did it with my foot and think I could do it with my hand and wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

“Umm…heehee?”

“Go sit over there and I’ll be with you in a minute.” He left. I picked out a shiny new board.

When he came back, I tried to lie my way out of things. “See, my barrier was, um, always being too shy, and so I figured that coming up here and asking for another board was, you know…not…shy?”

He shot me a look while setting up the cinderblocks. “Right. So, what’s your barrier now?”

“Uhh…the…board.”

Except the problem is that

THERE B’AIN’T NO BOARD CAN BE A BARRIER TO ME!

And that, my friends, is how organized violence put me on a ridiculous high. I palm heeled a large object and won. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to bed so I can get up in six hours to have breakfast with the East Campus facility managers. I want to be FULLY RESTED.

(PS. Jeannie, dude, doing the handbreakage was completely awesome. You are my hero. Also hot and cultivator of plants. <3 you.)

Noses

Dad is getting his done in October, apparently. I asked him if this gave me rights to laugh at him for all eternity, and he said yes - though, if you know my dad, you also know that his nose as is is equally laughable. It's a win-win situation, really.

Aunt Marika has assured me that I will grow into mine. Apparently some sort of nasal osteoporosis takes place between the ages of 20 and 40. This is just great - my face will finally be attractive long after the rest of my body is beginning to rot.

My cousin is sporting a generous helping of peach fuzz under his. And his voice has changed. Help help help I am old.

DAMN it, Mom, Stop Ruining My Stories!

Yesterday started with me getting up at 6am.

But wait! That's not the punchline! AHAHAHAH!

Actually, for a 6am morning, it wasn't that bad. I went to Timmy Ho's for breakfast and got donuts, and they were free with Grandpa's usurped gift certificates. I had coffee. It was snowing for the first time in a week. I had managed to get two suitcases' worth of stuff into one suitcase. You know, it seemed to be an auspicious way for EA to bid me goodbye.

The hilarity started when I got to the airport, attempting to simultaneously balance the 60lb suitcase, the full-to-bursting backpack, the disgustingly large (also full)(and new!) handbag, and the cylindrical and very slick Tupperware with the living being in it. Oh, had I neglected to mention the living being? Yes. Well, I'd taken it upon myself to adopt and BREED LIKE GANGBUSTERS Blue, an adorable and cruelly abandoned betta that has been shuttled around the family for some time now. He is a crowntail with ridiculous genes that must be shared for the good of all bettakind.

So anyway, I checked in for my flight and everything without a problem, and the flight was running fine even though it was really slippery out. I hiked all my crap up on my hip and headed for security, managing to juggle the boarding pass and the driver's license and the fish simultaneously without dropping anything. When I got up to the scanner, the security dude started laughing - when I handed him Blue for a handcheck (you think I'm gonna give my fish cancer? Psh. No.) he didn't see the fish and started asking me why I was handing him a glass of water. Then the other guy wanded the container "just so I don't get in trouble".

(Might I add, by the way, that as I was standing in line thinking "wow, I look like a total uncoordinated idiot", who should walk up behind me but my horrible and long-forgotten 7th grade music teacher, Mr. Hasselback. Yes. That was convenient.)

So I got to the gate and settled myself. I was sitting across from a slew of old ladies (the flight was continuing to Flaaaaaahrida), a couple of whom struck up conversation about the fishie.

"Oh, it's a betta! Does it come from one of those vases?"
upon which I streaked into vigilant-anti-animal-cruelty-crusader mode and taught those old ladies more than they ever wanted to know about the suckiness of plant-betta vases. NEVER BUY A PLANT-BETTA VASE, OR I WILL BE INCREDIBLY ANGRY WITH YOU AND NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN.

The flight started boarding late. They called my row and I got into line. I gave the lady my boarding pass.

"What's that?" She pointed to the container.

"Oh, that's my fish. His name is Bl-"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"No fish."

"What do you mean, no fish?"

"No fish on the plane."

"Why not?"

"No fish on the plane."

"But why not?"

"No fish on the plane."

"Yeah, but why NO-"

"NO FISH ON THE PLANE!"

A slightly nicer lady spoke up. "It's cats and dogs only, ma'am. I can't tell you how many fish we've got downstairs. It's against federal law to bring a fish on a plane."

"Oh. That's kinda dumb, but...umm...ok...what do I - you're not gonna make me kill him?!"

"No, no no. You can have somebody come pick him up."

I picked up my cell. "Umm...Mom? Hahahahaha. Guess what?"

So now I have no fish and the mean JetBlue people made me cry - but on the plus side, all the old ladies on the plane consoled me in my loss, I will be at DukeyDuke in TWO days, I found black ballerina slippers, and Dad has triumphantly declared that "there will never be another Democratic president!" thereby giving me weeks upon weeks' worth of ranting material and subsequently taking it away by suggesting an iPod for my Christmas gift. So, overall, it's been not a bad couple of days.

Maybe When I Get Out of Here I'll Be Creative Again

Tomorrow morning I leave for Dad's, which precedes immediately DUKEDUKEMOTHERIthinkyouknowwhereI'mgoingwiththis.

Things I Am Looking Forward To:

1. Dad's cooking. I have a feeling he's going to whip out pastitsio at some point, after which I will die happily engorged.
2. WORK. The making-money kind as well as the intellectual and extracurricular kind. I want that adrenaline rush, the kind that comes right after you start thinking "ohmygod I can never finish all this in time ohmygod I am a failure ohmygod I will be working at McDonald's for the rest of my life". Having an income again will also be nice. (income, I love you.)
3. JEANNIEDEIRDREJONYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY! Ahem. Also other Dukies, whom I love love love and miss miss miss. (so badly, in fact, that I need to repeat repeat repeat myself.)
4. My fishies! Oh, you all just WAIT until I am back with my boys. You will drown in pictures.
5. Hopefully spending a lot more time with the Lewis fambly now that Jess goes to UNC. Hell, hopefully spending a lot more time with JESS now that Jess goes to UNC. Best friends since birth! Hurrah!

Things I Am NOT Looking Forward To:

1. RA training. 8 hours of being locked into Von Canon with...uhh...slightly dubious company. Do not worry, Jeannie dear, I don't mean you.
2. I didn't get to see Cam tonight because his boiler exploded. I will not see him, or any of my other EAers, for who knows how long. I don't know when/if I'm coming back this summer, and...I wuv you guys.
3. North Carolina doesn't have lottery tickets.
4. So...I was in Tops today, buying aforementioned lottery tickets (I won $1!), and I started to realize how inextricably the building is tied in with my life. I mean, for starters, it's the whole reason we moved to East Aurora in the first place - had they not tried to build it we wouldn't ever have gotten involved, and probably would have bought a house in OP or something. I can't count how many girl's nights, birthday parties, sleepovers, movies, and dates have started, ended, or middled with a trip to get more Pepsi and popcorn. I worked there for two mind-numbing, suicide-inducing years (I never quite got around to it, but be assured that I wanted to). I know that store like I know myself - its layout, its people, its little inconsistencies (why do you put the Cheez Whiz with the frozen food? why?) And there's something so - so soothing, so normal, so homey - about going there at night, when the lights are dimmed and it feels like the building is smaller and less impersonal. I won't be able to do that anymore. I won't be able to go anywhere alone after dark anymore without my whistle clenched between my lips. Ah, Durham.
5. Byebye, cooking for self. :(
6. Driving from New York City to Durham with a live fish between my legs.
7. Waking up at 6am tomorrow.

I will see you all on the other side of this week. Grandma, if you're reading this, I love you and hope you're feeling better.

All Must Bow and Hail My Self-Restraint

For I found FOUR (the number that comes after three and before five) CELLOPHANE DOUBLE TAIL BETTAS, THREE crowntail females of varying colors, ONE red and white double tail and INNUMERABLE cellophane veiltails at the pet store in McKinley Mall AND DID NOT BUY ANY OF THEM.


cellophane blue pastel doubletail male, stolen from bettysplendens.com (imagine this without the blue wash, just flesh-colored, and smaller because they were younger)


blue crowntail female, stolen from http://michele.teissonnier.free.fr/ (they also had red and green ones)

Please note that PetWorld had these for $2.99 each, whereas ordering them online costs anywhere from $20-$50 plus shipping, sometimes from Thailand.

I hate myself.