OK, so what now???

As of this moment, I have been living in Lethbridge for approximately 5 days and 4 hours. It feels like much, much longer. I have unpacked everything, used "my" new oven to my heart's content, eaten more than is good for me, scouted out some running paths by the graveyard and in the coulees, met a dizzying array of Jen and Liana's (my landlords) friends, handed out resumes all over town, and tried the bus system. Yet despite all these activities, I still feel bored. I still watch too much daytime television. I still feel unproductive and antsy. Would someone, somewhere, from any minimum wage retail job just give me a call for an interview? Forget trying to actually make money. I just want the reassuring beep beep beep of my alarm clock going off at an ungodly hour, telling me that I am gainfully employed and will be able to pay my rent and buy groceries. I am sure that soon I will be retracting that wish for the annoying sound of my alarm clock every morning, but right now I feel like my life is on hold and I'd just like to get this show on the road.
Maybe all this waiting time is for a reason. Maybe some Higher Power is telling me that I just need to learn to wait, to slow down, to relax, to trust. Maybe. Or maybe that Higher Power is telling me that I should have taken greater care with my resume. Or it could be that I am supposed to be learning a lesson in perseverance. Or frugality. Or maybe how if I hadn't bought that iPod in February I would have a nice little sum in my bank account right now.
I love how when it's almost 1 o'clock am, all the negative thoughts swarm my brain like drones around a queen bee.
Did I just use that metaphor? Good grief. I was just watching Jerry Seinfeld; maybe that's why.
This feels like such an odd time in my life. I feel so young and yet so old. Part of me knows that I'm 19; no one expects me to have it all together, to make loads of money and have perfect hair. Yet another part of me feels way older than 19; like I should know what I'm doing by now and shouldn't be scared by the thought of job interviews or learning how to work a lottery machine at Shopper's Drug Mart or trying to pick my courses for next year. But having spent the last two years of my life in a climate-controlled bubble, I don't really know what to do in the real world anymore. I don't know what's me and what's just a product of Taylor. I don't know what I want. I have no opinions. I laugh when other people laugh; I stare at people's shoes to make sure that what I'm wearing on my feet is at least passable. I know part of that will never change, but I also know that there's a part of me that really wants to break free and become itself in a way that never could have happened at Taylor. And that might take a long time, and it might take some work, but I want to try. Cause I really want to know who I am. And maybe that's the point of all this waiting - to find out what I want out of life and who "me" really is.
Oh geez. So philosophical. I should really go to bed now before I spill my guts all over this page, cause that would be gross and nobody wants to see it. I'm sure. Yukky.
So here's to tomorrow and sleeping in and doing nothing. Cause doing nothing is the only thing I can do at this point. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get called in for a job interview. I'm crossing my fingers...

My Last Day (ever) at Taylor

It has been a stressful week. A 16-page take-home final, my last day at work, packing everything, buying a dress for my sister's wedding, and a nasty cold on top of everything else has taken up all my time. And now here I sit, with the contents of my room in a haphazard pile of boxes in the middle of my floor. The shelves all need washing, and I have to move all the furniture back to where it was, and then vacuum. I guess I'll wait til tomorrow to do all of that.
It seems crazy to think that tomorrow night at this time I will probably be sinking to the floor exhausted... in my own little basement suite! I can't wait. I guess partly I'm really scared and nervous to be completely on my own in a city that I don't know that well - but on the other hand, there are so many exciting possibilities!
I will miss all the girls on my floor in Schindler so much! I've gotten really close to Randa, and it's crazy to think that I won't be able to have any more late-night talks with her in these rooms - I won't be able to just walk across the hall and say good morning - I won't be able to borrow her printer paper or ask her how my outfit looks. I will miss her so much! I'd forgotten what it's like to have a best friend.
Well, the packing is calling. Goodbye, sophomore year. Goodbye, Schindler. May all the traumatic, harrowing experiences be erased from my memory so that I remember these four walls not as a prison, but as a palace. (Schindler? A palace? Bwah ha ha!) But nonetheless - it's the end of my life in dorms, and it's bittersweet. Time to move one? Yes. But also a time to look back, and remember the good times.
Oh dear. I better not wax philosophical again. It reveals my melodramatic streak!

Gestalt, schmalt

Studying for a counseling psychology test (from 8:30 am til 2:00 pm, 23 pages of handwritten notes!!!) has its drawbacks.
For one thing, after the test, the terms "reality- cognitive- behavioural- Gestalt- existential- psychosocial- psychodynamic- family- structural- strategic- person-centered" all kind of mush together in my mind and severely hinder rational thinking. I feel like a stewpot of various theories of counseling. If you say anything to me at this point - however trivial or benign - I might just label you a neurotic individual who never completed the autonomy vs. shame and doubt phase of Erikson's psychosocial learning.
Another problem with cramming for a counseling exam is the fact that I've started analyzing myself. I'm afraid that I'm not a very self-actualized individual. You see, according to the human-centered approach to counseling, each one of us humans is like a little acorn with the potential to grow into a great big oak tree. That, my friend, is self-actualization. I think I'm pretty far behind. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs I've pretty much only mastered survival - food and shelter.
Not that you care about any of this. You'd think I was a psychology major, not a disillusioned would-be novelist who can't even find the motivation to start on my take-home Ren Lit final, due Thursday morning at 11:00. 12-20 brutal pages. I hate my life.
Goodbye cruel world. I'm going to write until I'm finished. Then I might crawl out of my hole in the ground (aka my stinky nasty smelly room) and face the light.

My New Shoes

Oh I know I already posted once. But I forgot about these! My first ebay purchase ever! Aren't they pretty?

Grrrr.....

I had typed out a really long post and then I pushed a random key and Blogger deleted it! I am so sad. I guess you guys don't get to read my ramblings after all. In the interests of time, I guess I will just make a list:
1. I had a lovely easter Sunday. Went to dinner at Randa's grandparents - she was gone so they adopted me. Then I had breakfast for supper - a bowl of cereal, a bagel, and yogourt - oh I know you guys don't care what I ate for supper, but it makes me happy to think about food, so humor me!
2. I get to move into my new place in 5 DAYS!!! I am really excited. Oh to have my own kitchen... my own counters... that reminds me, I have to go wash my dishes.
3. I've started reading the Circle Trilogy by Ted Dekker again. Such a good series! I was just very bored... since the library was closed this weekend (how dare they?!) ... so I grabbed a random book off my shelf and now I'm totally engrossed. I forget how they end. Last time I read them... well let's just say that I was an emotional basket case and I wasn't really concentrating. So this is exciting!
4. I'm leaving. Goodbye. The dishes are calling. Oh, and exams. Yuck. I hate exams. Who invented such nasty things? Why can't life be fun? ("I beg your pardon; I never promised you a rose garden" *cheesy lyric of the day).
Goodbye!!!

I Knew It Would Happen One of These Days

I must be one of the ditziest people I know.
I try. I try so hard to be responsible, to be on time, to be one of those trustworthy individuals that everyone can depend on.
But what did I do on Monday night? I completely ruined my reputation for responsibility (flimsy and false though it may be) by blithely walking off the bus without my wallet.
To complicate matters further, I didn't discover this dismaying fact until Wednesday, when I was looking for my wallet so I could buy some groceries. When I couldn't find it, I went into panic mode, and started tearing my room apart. When that yielded no results, I admitted to myself - a sinking feeling beginning to take over my gastrointestinal regions - that most likely, my wallet had wandered away from me, slyly remaining on the bus while I walked away, oblivious.
I felt as if it had betrayed me, like the One Ring betrayed Gollum.
Being one of those stupid people who keep every document necessary for their identity inside their wallet, I knew that if I didn't find my wallet, there could be someone walking around out there, pretending to be me. I knew that they could be spending my money and getting into bars with my driver's license. It was an extreme situation.
You will be pleased to hear, gentle reader, that this grim picture I have been painting for you actually has a ray of hope shining rosily in the corner. The next morning I called the Lost and Found at the bus station, and to my great joy I found out that my wallet had been turned in, completely intact! I took a bus downtown to pick it up, and it was returned to me without a dime missing.
It makes me wonder, though. My entire life, my purses and wallets have struggled to get free from my grip. I have left my wallet in Wal-Mart, in grocery stores, and even at the zoo. Somehow, even the paranoia I now feel about setting my purse down in strange places didn't prevent me from leaving it on the bus last week. So, have I learned my lesson from this close call, or did the fortuitous turn of events that returned my wallet to me also prevent me from truly changing my scatterbrained ways? Will I have to irreversibly lose something in order for me to really learn my lesson?
I sure hope not. I don't think my heart can handle the shock!

Live like Wildflowers

I think I'm having an identity crisis.
I used to think I wanted to have a career, an academic life. I used to think that I was rather sophisticated because I wanted to have knowledge just for knowledge's sake. I was determined to finish university and have a degree and be worth something. Now, I don't know if I want to do that. I would like to write a novel, but I hardly think that would put bread on the table (even if I'm the next J.K. Rowling, which I'm not, she spent a lot of years in miserable poverty before she became a byword on the NYTimes bestseller lists). So I have to find a job of some sort that I can endure for a few years, a job that will have, if not beneficial, at least benign effects on my bank account.
I also want a job where I don't have to dress up every day. No lipstick and hairstraighteners for me every morning! Unfortunately, that kind of a job requires skills that I don't have, since I'm not exactly superb at outdoorsey-type activities (see, I don't even know what to call it when you work with your hands and get a tan from being outside all day!).
Then, of course there's my desire to travel. Don't even ask how that fits in. I don't want to teach English as a second language - it doesn't even tempt me.
I like cooking. A lot. But I don't think I'd like to be a cook. At least not a commercial cook. Maybe someone's personal cook? See, I just don't know.
I guess I have 2 more years to figure this out. That's when the university will spew me forth into the cold, cruel world and I will have to struggle to pay back my student loans using the skills I am supposed to be acquiring right now.
It's too bad, cause I think the only thing that university is teaching me right now is how to avoid schoolwork, how many hours one can waste on the computer, and how long one can put off writing a paper and still finish it without arriving to class half an hour late. See? Great stuff, especially as far as time-management is concerned.
Speaking of which... I'm sure there's something useful I ought to be doing at this moment... like reading (His Dark Materials, I'm on the third book and I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight until I finish!)... or snacking (is there anything better than a bowl of homemade granola garnished with bananas and strawberries?) ... or studying (for my Bio exam on Tuesday night, it's gonna be great *ahem* sarcasm).
p.s. Oh yeah. The title. I've been listening to Lisa Brokop lately, and one of her songs is about how we should "live like wildflowers, find our place in the golden sun." It sounds good to me! Who needs an identity crisis, I'll just learn how to bloom where I'm planted... or something like that... yes I know I'm mixing my metaphors. Bear with me!

Kummerspeck

This word made me laugh. Because it's so me. It should probably be the name of my blog.
What does it mean, you ask? I found the definition here.
Kummerspeck: a German term for the weight people gain as a result of emotion-related overeating.
Sad, but so applicable!

March is a gross month

Why is it so hard to be happy in March? Wait, let me amend that. Why is it so hard to be happy in March when you're living in Edmonton? Hmm, I guess there's several reasons, one of which would be that, rather than being a blustery month of wind, rain, and melting snow, it's been a blustery month of wind, snow, snow, snow, snow, and hmm... what else... more snow. The weather that we should have gotten in December has finally showed up, bared its icy teeth, snarled at us, and driven us back inside. Where I have been huddling pathetically, neglecting everything important to me: my schoolwork, my diet, my exercise routine. My life is at a standstill. And it's starting to become extremely frustrating. I have no motivation. I can hardly force myself to go to class, to get out of bed, to wear anything else but sweatpants. I'm developing an eating disorder. And my grades are going down a very slippery slope of no return.
Well! That was a load of whining, and I feel somewhat better, having vented satisfactorily.
What worries me today is the fact that the library is telling me that a certain CD I distinctly remember returning two weeks ago is in fact still out. I suppose I ought to go to the library and get it cleared up right away, but it's not a very nice day outside and I don't really feel like tromping through the snow, waiting outside in the cold, and spending an hour in transit on the buses. Like I said, I'm feeling rather lazy, and it just all seems too overwhelming and confusing. All I can do is crawl back into bed and wait until it's all over.

Just Recently

I just got back from a visit at Randa's house. This weekend was really full for me. I can hardly believe it's already over. And then, only 1 month until school is out. 1 month, 1 paper, 1 video project, and 4 exams. I think I can handle this!
I am so excited to move into my new place. Did I ever blog about the little basement suite that I found in Lethbridge? Well, I didn't exactly find it. I was randomly talking to Amy Jo one day and she told me that her cousins had a place in Lethbridge and were looking for a renter for the basement. I went to see the place during reading week and immediately liked it. So I sent them a damage deposit and now it's waiting for me as soon as I want it. I can't wait to set up my living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom exactly the way I want them. I can't wait until I can keep everything as clean as I want it. I can't wait to sit down at a real kitchen table in the morning with my bowl of cereal and Sudoku or crossword puzzles. It's going to be lovely.
What won't be lovely will be trying to find a job. I have no idea where I'm going to work this summer. It worries me.
Well, I'm going to go and work on my Renaissance Literature presentation for tomorrow.

Three Stanzas of Stream of Consciousness Poetry

Maybe if I had ever felt that way
And you had ever looked outside
Then we could understand each other
But I feel the slippery slope
Of words, harsh and awkward,
Tumbling off iron tongues
And we find a plexiglass wall between us
Steel rivets and 2x4s
An engineering marvel wrought by our own power
Power of a misunderstanding.

Care Bears and sunny yellow fabric
Stitches of love, soft and warm
It caresses a too full belly
Will I ever ever go back to that place
When a rocking chair fixed it all
And I could forgive your mistakes
And mine.

Cause here I see a haze of sleepwalkers
Amazing, amazing, they chortle
Mouths full of cotton sleep,
Heads full of candy dreams
On the other side of glass, they love their lives
This deromanticized dream has become
A nightmare that I wake to every day
Oh I want insomniac pills
To stop up this bloated purple fear.

Avoidance of the Big "S"

Well, here I sit, enjoying the high feelings of euphoria gained from an eleven hour sleep, badly needed due to utter exhaustion from the day before. On Thursday night, Holly and Sara came out to Schindler, and we had a Mary Kay makeover party. Then, on impulse Holly stayed over and we all slept in Randa's room. Randa had to get up at 7:30 to make it to class and then to basketball, but Holly and I were going to sleep later - until I opened my mouth and volunteered to make french toast for everyone before Randa left. To make matters worse, Heather came in just as we were getting settled in bed and, of course, wanted to join the party. She asked if she could sleep in Holly's bed. Holly agreed. But Heather is a big girl, (5'11", I think?) and has no control over her muscles when she sleeps. She sprawled out, and Holly, desperately trying to not fall off of the bed, still couldn't sleep at 4:30 am. So she moved into my bed, and although there were no more falling-out-of-the-bed incidents, its always harder for me to sleep when I have to remain aware of how my limb movements are affecting the other occupant of a twin-sized mattress. I slept rather fitfully for the next few hours, and then got up to make french toast for everyone. It was fun. We set up a picnic in the middle of the hallway and wolfed down our food. Then, Randa and Holly left - Heather went to her room to do schoolwork - and I wandered around like a zombie for most of the day, getting nothing done.
It was our spring concert last night (and tonight again) and we were all supposed to dress up in prom dresses for it. It's supposed to be kind of funny, cause Geoff comes in right when all of the choir is on stage, dressed up, and he pretends to be some kind of redneck auctioneer. Well, it would have been funny on a different day. But I had a roaring headache and my eyes were involuntarily closing, and I was wearing Kirstin's dress, which although its gorgeous and makes me look fantastic (no false modesty - I'll post a picture later :) ) is also a size 2 and incredibly tight. We muddled through the concert (we'd had no dress rehearsal and the whole thing was basically a gong-show) and then afterwards I had to spend time with some friends from last year whom I haven't seen in a long time. So by the time I got in at about 10:00 I was exhausted, and went straight to bed, and slept for eleven hours.
All this would be well and good (and probably boring anyone reading this to death) but I have two papers due really soon and I have to get started on them and I haven't even picked topics yet. And here I sit, posting to my blog, about to call my mom, and in general trying to avoid schoolwork like it could kill me or something.
I will do some this afternoon. I will. I must.
Well... I guess there's always Sunday afternoon...

Mmm, chocolate....

The chocolate craving hit me yesterday. I had to have chocolate or I was going to die. So I grabbed Heather and we walked to 7-eleven where I purchased a rich bar of this...

...and a bottle of this...

because this juice really is one of the best ever.
But then I got back to my room and I decided that I didn't want to eat my chocolate right then anyway. So I saved it for this morning. Some people think chocolate should be enjoyed in the evening, but I think that 10:30 a.m. is one of the best times for a little pick me up.
I had never tried Hershey's pure dark chocolate before. Although it certainly does the trick (with 60% cacoa, it's very rich and stimulating), I think I like the cocoa camino bar better. Maybe next time. Safeway is rearranging all their organic stuff so I wasn't able to find the one I wanted at the grocery store.

Googley-Bear

So, to explain...
I had a dream this morning that I was hiding in my house from two bears. One was white, and she was rummaging through the box in the entry that has all the toques and gloves and scarves. Quite harmless, really, but I was still scared spitless. So I ran and hid in the bathroom, but as soon as I got in, I heard a knock on the door, and I knew that it was the other bear, the brown one. I opened the door because I was scared that he would get angry and tear it down with his claws, and then he would be much more likely to eat me when he got to the other side. When I opened the door, there he was, standing upright and dressed in a tuxedo like a circus bear. He grabbed my hand (it hurt, but only because he had nasty claws) and then he made me waltz with him across the kitchen. Then, he took me to my little sister's bedroom where he had been playing with her toys. He then pointed to himself and said "Googley-Bear." I smiled, thinking, What an appropriate name for a bear. I then pointed to myself and said, "Grace." But our conversation didn't get any further, because I then woke up with great relief that I had survived the bear attack.
Then I googled "Googley-Bear" and came up with the picture above. I guess the most common image associated with Googley-Bear is that weird one-eyed guy off of Monsters, Inc. Believe me, he looks very different from the bear in my dreams. But somehow my mind must have connected them... ah, I don't know. Dreams are weird.
Speaking of dreams, a side-note - I was at my friends' place for a sleepover the other night, and apparently in the middle of the night, I sat upright, patted my blankets and said, "I just love this pouffy dress. It's just the best dress ever!"I do not remember the incident, but Crystal Jackson swears that it happened. And I believe her, for I must admit to a tendency to say weird things in my sleep, a trend documented by every roommate I've ever had.

A Novel Thought

I spent money today that I shouldn't have. I wasted a whole afternoon at West Edmonton Mall. That is a very tricky place for someone such as myself with limited funds. I bought a pair of boots... a pair of very funky boots... and a new bag... and a pair of pink Roxy shoes, just because they were so cute. Then I missed my bus and sat miserably waiting for the next one, comforting myself by munching on SunChips.
But all this is not the reason I felt compelled to post. You see, this evening I started wandering around on the internet looking at shoes and bags (you see, once it starts it never stops) and I realized (not for the first time) that I am consumed by material things, and it's not good.
Then, I wondered what would happen if I started carrying around all my stuff in plastic grocery bags. Would my friends still like me? Would my coworkers still be nice to me? I came to the startling realization that they probably would. (I guess we'll never find out unless I try it, which isn't going to happen in the near future).
This realization led to another one. I thought - quite clearly - Grace, people don't like you for your stuff. And that thought stopped me short.
I see now that there's really only two possibilities. 1. I have been spending money unnecessarily in an attempt to impress other people/buy affection. 2. I have been spending money unnecessarily in an attempt to make me like me better. Or, in an attempt to bring myself happiness. Either way, the motivation is ostensibly for the sake of my own self.
If possibility number 1 is true, then my realization that "people don't like me for my stuff" should, if taken to heart, relieve the enormous pressure that I feel when ever I walk into a mall. Something is telling me to accumulate material possessions, and I unfortunately often listen. On the other hand, if possibility number 2. is true, then my realization won't do a thing for me. Only therapy can help at that point. (grin... mostly kidding)
It's my gut feeling that both possibilities are true. Possibility number 1 I will attempt to cure by a return to reality every now and again... the reality that people will not like me any better because I own a pair of suede, furry, trendy boots. Possibility number 2 I will attempt to cure by a little thing I call "self-governance." "Attempt" is the key word. Maybe I can find other ways to try to make myself happy. Like chocolate. Or fascinating suspense novels. Or B-12 Vitamins. I like them all. And they don't cost (much) money.

Do you have a card that says...

"How do you girls like working at Hallmark?" the customer asked Cheryl and me last night. It was 15 minutes until closing, and we had just sold her a card which she was filling out rapidly at the counter.
Cheryl and I looked at each other and shrugged. "It's pretty good," we said. I would have told her that it was an amazing job and I looked forward to coming to work every day, but by the look on her face I don't think she would have believed me.
"I used to work at a Hallmark in Leduc for four years," she said. "Man, that was weird. I can't believe some people. They'd ask me to pick out a card for their husband, or ask for a card with elephants or some other random animal on it. Or they'd ask how long I thought a candle would burn. Like, get real, lady! As if I know."
Cheryl and I laughed nervously.
"Do you guys ever get that?" she went on. "Like, where someone wants you to find a card that says something specifically for them?"
I nodded. Cheryl nodded. Since our explanations were not forthcoming and the customer was in a hurry, she just kind of grinned at us and hurried out of the store with a "Have a good one."
I looked at Cheryl with a wry smile. "Do you remember that guy earlier this evening?" I asked. Cheryl smiled back at me. "Yep. I sure do."
A couple of hours earlier, I was asked by a guy about my age to find a card for him... a very specific card. He wanted to ask a girl out, but he didn't want to use the "love" word. He wanted to stay out of the friend zone, yet he wanted to communicate his feelings about her. In short, he wanted the card to do the dirty work for him - to tell her that he liked her, thought she was special, and then ask what she thought about being his girlfriend.
I sent him to the blank card section. "That's asking a lot out of a guy," he whined. I told him that she would just appreciate him more because of all the time he spent on it.
He left the store without buying anything.
I thought this incident was pretty random. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I actually like helping people pick out cards. And I like to give my opinion on them. So... next time you're in a Hallmark store... don't be scared... if you need help, ask for it! We who wear the purple shirts are usually pretty good humored, unless of course you have BO or ask us inappropriate questions or go into the back room and steal money from our purses.

My New Favoritest CD

Beautiful voice. Beautiful music. A must-listen if you're suffering from February... oops, March... blahs.

The Strange, Random, Beautiful Chaos of Life

You Are a Caramel Crunch Donut

You're a complex creature, and you're guilty of complicating things for fun. You've been known to sit around pondering the meaning of life... Or at times, pondering the meaning of your doughnut. To frost or not to frost? To fill or not to fill? These are your eternal questions.

What Donut Are You?

I think coincidences are the queerest things to think about. Because you know, there are some people who hold to the view that there is no such thing as a coincidence, and everything happens for some kind of purpose. Then, there are others who believe that things just happen, due to the interactions of probabilities. Those people don't think that anything occurs according to some grand master plan. I suppose I would place myself somewhere in between those two groups. I'd like to believe that there's some purpose to life... but on the other hand, I feel like so much of life is just "the way it happens." Lately, I've been leaning toward the "random occurences" viewpoint.
But occurences as of late have been changing my way of thinking. I shall explain. But it might take a long time, so sit tight...
It was reading week last week. I went home in a state of extreme excitement. I love reading week. There's no other week of the year that is as much appreciated, filled with as much nothingness, relaxation, movies, shopping, good eating, and good times with friends. Sometimes, I like to call it "Suicide Prevention Week" or "Sanity Preservation Week." Whatever you call it, it's also my yearly opportunity to purchase useless things (in my case, an iPod nano - so pretty) and to look forward to summer and how I'll do things differently next year. So, I had a lovely week at home. I was able to procure a basement suite for next year. I went and visited the U of L, and was duly impressed. I even found a couple pairs of pants that aren't going to fall off my cadaverous butt. (Note: I do not mean to say that I'm just one of those skinny girls who naturally look like they're anorexic. I only mean that my poor little legs are sadly out of proportion to the rest of my body, and thus my pants usually require a belt for the sake of modesty.) I managed to ignore most of my homework, yet finish the most pressing assignments. It was a very productive week.
Now, on to the coincidences. I was on my way back to school on the Greyhound, and lo and behold my seatmate turned out to be this lovely girl in her third year at the U of A, a Christian, a fellow home-schooler, and - as I found out just before we arrived in Edmonton - someone who knows my brother's friend Christy! Now, if that's not weird, I don't know what is. (Christy, if you're reading this, you are known by your book club - I mentioned the lovely time that I had had at your book club, and Gina immediately wanted to know what your name was, and it turned out that her parents know your parents!) It was extremely coincidental, and since coincidental things never usually happen to me (at least not the good coincidences, like winning the lottery) I was forced to reflect on life, and whether coincidences are actually coincidences, or actually nonexistent. That was a long sentence. I guess I just wonder how much of what happens in my life is up to me and how much of it is a product of random chance.
Well, I guess my ruminating is done. This was a weird post. I had a lot I wanted to say and I don't think I said it all, but that's OK. I'm sure it will all come out sooner or later.

GOING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm just a little bit excited! Yes, I am taking almost two whole weeks off from the rat race. I'm going to travel 5 hours south to the obscure little village from which I originated. There I will vegetate, ruminate, and watch movies until I have complutely obfuscated the mass of useless knowledge spinning inside my head. Yay!!
going home going home going home going home going home going home going home going home GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Valentine's Day!