waiting room review

I've been living in my own apartment for four months now and I've yet to make substantial attempts in acquiring Internet or cable television. I suppose I just haven't felt the need to design my home life around its accessibility. If I need to look anything up on the Internet, my iPhone is extremely useful. As for entertainment purposes, the public library and Netflix Instant keep me pretty happy. I suppose I'm just surprised by this accidental lifestyle change because if we were friends in college you would know that I loved my television shows and I had VCR tapes to prove it.
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Last night I was terribly upset by something and originally wanted to spend my evening tipping back as much beer and shots as possible to drown out my anger. Once I stepped inside my apartment, put my purse on the kitchen chair, and plopped down on my futon I realized that I didn't want to be "that" girl. So instead, I changed into my comfy pajamas, lit a few candles, poured myself some pinto grigio, and opened to the first page of an Esther bible study my mom had given me several months ago. I sat there reading the forward and the introduction in the scented candlelight, nervously hesitant to dive further into the study. In all honesty I haven't read the Bible in four to five months. I left my church and in turn stopped volunteering with the middle school youth. I wouldn't say I've turned my back on God, but I certainly haven't faced Him in awhile. When I think back to my ministry involvement in college, I can't seem to find that same girl in me now. I'm more honest with my intentions and only want them to be raw and genuine. I can't fake it anymore. And I'm slowly finding my own way, feeling that inner desire for something deeper. But it'll never be the same, and I'm thankful for that.
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I would like to be an editor. I'm by no means a connoisseur of English grammar or literature, but I do believe I would be a great editor. My co-workers know that I have "editor's eye" so I've become the resident "can you look this over for me, Laura?" gal. I love it. And I love to read. So make those two things have babies, and give me an editor job. Somebody, please!
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My iPhone just quit on me for the second time. All because I attempt to update its software on my seven year old Toshiba laptop. Oops, my bad. I've already reserved a Genius Bar appointment for tomorrow morning. I hate being the opposite of techno-savvy. Techno-stupid? Meh, I'll go with that name. At least when it concerns Apple products.
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While in the doctor's office this morning I reviewed several of my last blog posts and I didn't know until now that I mention virginity quite often. Almost an uncomfortable amount of times. And now add this one to the list. Oy vey.
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October 1st is World Vegetarian Day. I've pledged to be vegetarian for the entire month (with the exception of five meat meal passes to be used at my disposal). I asked my resident vegetarian co-worker to approve these passes and explained that when my sister returns from Afghanistan and visits us for a week, I'm going to need permission to devour as much ribs, fajita meat, and fried chicken as possible. I can't leave a carnivorous sister hanging.

on my mind tonight

Three weeks ago I adopted a beautiful 2 month old kitten. I named him Tucker Charcoal Hardin. Yesterday morning, Tucker died. I can't express how devastated I was to hear the news. My mom found him in my apartment bathroom while I was at work. We buried him in my parents' backyard. This feeling blows. I feel so alone in my apartment now. Only three weeks together. Why?
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If a girl invites you to come over for the night, and you've already spent two nights together before, and you say you're going to call her, don't be a chicken and not call. Just tell her you're not interested anymore or make the call and show up. The girl doesn't need to be waiting around for a phone call. She needs to be finding the next available guy who will want to cash in her invitations.
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I don't think I'm sure of my reasoning for waiting to have sex until marriage. Sure, it's something I've always done and believed needed to happen. But I've been questioning it lately. I won't got to hell for having sex before I'm married so what is it I'm actually avoiding or waiting on? I'm just in a fit of doubt. Let's face it, I certainly WANT to have sex. What 24 year old gal doesn't?
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eHarmony is more interesting than you realize. Not that I would know...

single apartment thoughts

I have a Queen size bed. It's missing a warm body. Every time I lay down in it I think to myself, "this would be much better if I were sharing it with someone."

Due to the attractive porch light forced on every night by the apartment complex, I'm left with little confidence that a romantic moment can occur on my doorstep. Any future kiss goodnight will have to occur at the bottom of the stairs or in my apartment. The last option being plausible only if he's willing to duck and cover from all the stupid flying bugs whizzing about the light inconveniently placed too close to my door. He'll have to work for that kiss.

The biggest problem of living by myself is not knowing how I want to decorate my walls. They're just blank cream colored walls waiting to be filled with vibrancy. What should I place here? How high should it be? How will this look next to the other thing? Does this look cluttered? What if I move it here? And where should this go? How many nails do I have? Does this look stupid? ...I give up.

The Igo Library is my favorite new neighbor. Located a hop skip and jump away from my apartment I can visit Igo and borrow whatever books, CDs, and DVDs I want. Thanks SA Public Library system.

I've been hanging around with a lot of boys recently and occassionally I'm the only girl in the group. I've taken the opportunity to probe their minds in learning more about their thought process concerning their interest in girls. I'm boggled by a lot of their answers and yet never surprised as well. I think I face more denial in believing they truly can be THAT superficial and follow what their penis wants more so than their heart or mind. My most recent conversation discussed the complexity between personality and looks. Take a guess which they payed attention to first... Duh, looks. So as a girl who would place herself in the personality category before ever thinking her looks qualify her to primarily be in the looks catergory, it was a disappointing response.

book list

...currently reading "The Male Brain: A Breakthrough Understanding of How Men and Boys Think" by Louann Brizendine, MD

135 pages of fascinating research and explanations for coming to terms with the rhyme and reason of male behavior...

like a surgeon

I wonder how many 24 year old virgins there are in the world right now... How many females? How many males? And what would the ratio then be for a virgin to marry a virgin? What will the population percentage of 24 year old virgins be when this upcoming generation of children become 24 years old? What's the probability the virgin percentage will be devastatingly lower than right now? How big is the percentage drop off from 24 year old virgins to 25 year old virgins and so on for each following year? Are there any 40 year old virgins currently in existence? What's the oldest age documented for someone being a virgin? If God wanted to bring another child to this earth through immaculate conception would He have a difficult time finding a carrier?

hair did

I had six bobby pins tucked in my hair today. Essential pieces to making my side loopy simple do look complex and intricate. It's just a ponytail with bent and malleable flare. Relax.

Thursday

1 Dos Equis
1 Whiskey & Coke
1 Red Bull & Vodka
2 Smirnoff Ice
Total: $6

Cute bartender in Austin's tip: $20 and my phone #

Why don't I go out more??

affirmation

"Against this system of mutual exploitation stands the more compelling alternative of virginity. It escapes the ruthless cycle of winning and losing because it refuses to play the game. The promiscuous of both sexes will take their cheap shots at one another, disguising infidelity and selfishness as freedom and independence, and blaming the aftermath on one another. But no one can claim control over a virgin. Virginity is not a matter of asserting power in order to manipulate. It is a refusal to exploit or be exploited. That is real, and responsible, power.

But there is more to it than mere escape. There is an undeniable appeal in virginity, something that eludes the resentful feminist's contemptuous label of "prude." A virgin woman is an unattainable object of desire, and it is precisely her unattainability that increases her desirability. Feminism has told a lie in defense of its own promiscuity, namely, that there is no sexual power to be found in virginity. On the contrary, virgin sexuality has extraordinary and unusual power. There's no second-guessing a virgin's motives: her strength comes from a source beyond her transitory whims. It is sexuality dedicated to hope, to the future, to marital love, to children and to God. Her virginity is, at the same time, a statement of her mature independence from men. It allows a woman to become a whole person in her own right, without needing a man either to revolt against or to complete what she lacks. It is very simple, really: no matter how wonderful, charming, handsome, intelligent, thoughtful, rich or persuasive he is, he simply cannot have her. A virgin is perfectly unpossessable."

Laura Lately

I seem to have gained a stronger compulsion for making lists since a) graduating from college and now b) having a full-time job. My desk has post-it notes galore spread about its surface. And it truly is as if I would forget what I need to do in life were in not for ordered or bullet-pointed neon colored square pieces of paper. How did it come to this state of mind?

I'm not sure when I took my first "spiritual gifts survey" but it must have occurred during my senior year of college because that's when I was most quote-unquote active in church. At that time I scored highest (23-24/25) range with three spiritual gifts: exhortation, service/helps, and mercy. Conveniently enough I answered the same spiritual gifts survey a couple of weeks ago with my middle school kids at church. I scored nearly the same on every gift with the inclusion of administration residing in the high score range. So what do these four spiritual gifts mean to me now? Well, as they i.e. LifeWay Christian Resources puts it...
- Administration: Persons with the gift of administration lead the body by steering others to remain on task. Administration enables the body to organize according to God-given purposes and long-term goals.
- Exhortation: Possessors of this gift encourage members to be involved in and enthusiastic about the work of the Lord. Members with this gift are good counselors and motivate others to service. Exhortation exhibits itself in preaching, teaching, and ministry.
- Service/Helps: Those with the gift of service/helps recognize practical needs in the body and joyfully give assistance to meeting those needs. Christians with this gift do not mind working behind the scenes.
- Mercy: Cheerful acts of compassion characterize those with the gift of mercy. Persons with this gift aid the body by empathizing with hurting members. They keep the body healthy and unified by keeping others aware of the needs within the church.
Not surprisingly, I identify strongly with all of these four spiritual gifts. Gifts like prophecy and evangelism though are definitely not my forte. It is so interesting when surveying oneself to see similar categories or terms continuously reappear in defining you.

The latest and greatest radio station I've become obsessed with is 90.1 KSYM, San Antonio College's own homegrown radio station. Their weekly schedule is so eclectic, I never get tired of tuning in. Whether in the mood for some piano jazz, techno tronic, or some indie alternative folk music, I'm down with KSYM. http://www.accd.edu/sAC/ksym/schedule.htm

I've been examining friendships lately. What I need in a friend, who do I define as a friend, how can I be a better friend, etc. All very fascinating conclusions that still remain open-ended.

I fear that my job will end soon due to dropped funding and poor program outcomes. I hate non-profit work at times.

Currently engrossed in "Boomsday" by Christopher Buckley. Glimpse of inside cover synopsis: "Cassandra Devine, an idealistic, straight-A student, was like any other seventeen-year-old Yale hopeful until she learned that her father spent her tuition money on a dotcom start-up, and she would be forced to join the army. Ten years later, Cassandra has become a frustrated Washington spin doctor and devoted nighttime blogger who rails against the excesses of the "Un-greatest" generation and their negligent handling of the mounting Social Security debt. After she learns that her father has remarried and bought his dim-witted son's way into Yale, she politely suggests on her personal blog that Baby Boomers be given government incentives to kill themselves by age seventy-five. This modest proposal catches fire with millions of outraged citizens and an ambitious senator seeking the youth vote for his presidential bid. With the help of Washington's greatest PR strategist, Cassandra and the politician try to ride the issue of euthanasia for Boomers (they call it "Transitioning") all the way to the White House. Their opposition includes the president of the United States, who's running for reelection; a pro-life preacher, who may have killed his own mother in a mysterious automobile accident; and, of course, multitudes of Baby Boomers, who are deeply offended by demonstrations on the golf courses of their retirement resorts." Catchy plot, eh? So good.

I need rest.

Book 2. Excerpt A.

TOAST

I deserve better than to be forced to document my cruel fate at the hands of a pat of butter. What crime did I ever commit, except bring crispy and golden brown on the outside - bearing the faintest bouquet of carbon - while being tender, fluffy and white, nay, cloudlike, on the inside?

And like I can't see the knife coming my way! If you wanted to scare me, it worked, and ...oh jeez, it's not even butter, it's margarine. Oh dear God, it's not even margarine -it's a spread - housebrand spread, bought from a Costco, at that. That's all I get in the end? Butter-like spread-type bulk-purchased yellow goop? I don't even rate butter? Thanks. Thanks a lot. At least butter is a classy way to go. Even margarine has a certain Volvo cachet.

Well, that's life. During my childhood as a humble slice inside the loaf (four slices in from the front), I once had dreams. Maybe one day, as toast, I would bear an image of Jesus or, if not Jesus, then NASCAR racing legend Dale Earnhardt or, failing that, Catherine Zeta-Jones. Instead, all I display is a golden brown toastiness distributed across my heated surface with about the same degree of randomness as craters on the moon, with a slightly darker browning in my midriff where I bowed slightly towards the toaster's equatorial grill.

I think it's actually mean to trick young bread slices into thinking that they, too, might one day harbour toast faces, let alone be sold on eBay for thousands of dollars and make a wacky news story that goes viral.

Life generally blows. I mean, don't get me wrong, there are far worse ways to go than as toast - croutons and stuffing spring to mind - as well as the worst fate of all: blue mould, followed by a few hasty twists of the bread bag's neck, then you're plunged into the trash and live in an anaerobic limbo until the year AD 327,406, when a glacier scours you out of what was once the local landfill. My fate is to be toast. I suppose that's a small blessing.

Wait - wait - it's almost here, the knife. It's almost ready to dock onto my super-sensitive spot in the dead centre of my - nmghhh... aughGHHH!

Oh!
That was--
That was--
Do it again.
Oh God, they never told us about this, back in the loaf. Jesus, I'm crumbling all over the place.
I don't care.
Mnmmmglumph!
Ahhhhh...

Warm, drizzling rivulets soak my being; molten, swirling, sun-coloured puddles drench my cracked, scabby and burnt skin - my death so near. Already I can sense teeth coming my way, and yet the fear is gone. I feel free! I feel dirty! I feel submissive! I feel...

I feel...
I feel...
... the end.

"The Gum Thief" by Douglas Coupland

Book 1. Excerpt C.

Excerpt C:

"Did I ever tell you," I said, "about the time last year in Stanley Park when Mark and I went rollerblading?"

"No."

"There was this group of blind people, with white canes and everthing -a C.N.I.B. tour or something- and they heard us coming, and they motioned for us to stop, and we did. Then they handed Mark a camera. They asked Mark to take their picture."

"Blind people?"

"Exactly. But the strange thing was, they still believed in sight. In pictures. I'm thinking that's not a bad attitude."

"Life After God" by Douglas Coupland

Book 1. Excerpt B.

Excerpt B:

"My drive continued and worries about vanishing feelings remained like a background radiation. But I guess the nice thing about driving a car is that the physical act of driving itself occupies a good chunk of brain cells that otherwise would be giving you trouble overloading your thinking. New scenery continually erases what came before; memory is lost, shuffled, relabeled and forgotten. Gum is chewed; buttons are pushed; windows are lowered and opened. A fast moving car is the only place where you're legally allowed to not deal with your problems. It's enforced meditation and this is good."

- "Life After God" by Douglas Coupland

Book 1. Excerpt A.

I dropped by the library on my way home from work and picked up four Douglas Coupland books. First of the four to conquer: "Life After God"

Excerpt A:
"And this in turn made me think about humans. To be specific, I wondered about what it is that makes us humans, well...human? What is human behavior? For example, we know what dog behavior is: dogs do doggy things- they chase sticks, they sniff bums and they stick their heads out of moving car windows. And we know what cat behavior is: cats chase mice, they rub up against your shin when they're hungry and they have trouble deciding whether or not they want to exit a door or stay inside when you go to let them out. So what exactly is it that humans do that is specifically human?

I looked at it a different way. I thought: here it is, as a species we've built satellites and cablevision and Ford Mustangs but what if, say, it was dogs and not people who had invented these things. How would dogs express their essential dogginess with inventions? Would they build space stations shaped like big bones that orbited the earth? Would they make movies of the moon and sit in drive-ins howling at the show?

Or what if it was cats and not humans who invented technology- would cats build scratching-post skyscrapers covered entirely with shag carpeting? Would they have TV shows starring rubber squeak toys?

But it wasn't other animals who invented machines, it was humans. So what is it about our essential humanity that we are expressing with our inventions? What is it that makes us us?

I thought of how odd it is for billions of people to be alive, yet not one of them is really quite sure of what makes people people. The only activities I could think of that humans do that have no other animal equivalent were smoking, body-building, and writing. That's not much, considering how special we seem to think we are."

absorbed

I worked 10.5 hours today. I'm exhausted. I'm stressed. This week has been nuts. I cried on my drive home.

But things I remembered throughout today's struggle...
- I'm a confident public speaker.
- I get shit done.
- My job is rewarding.
- I have awesome kids.
- I'm making a difference.
- I laugh more now than I did a year ago.
- I'm supported and loved.

I can rest with that.

feeling sorry

For several months now I have been on the library waiting list for Paramore's newest album "Brand New Eyes." I could have easily bought the album off iTunes or checked out all the songs via YouTube but for some reason my most rational thought was to wait for 83 people to listen to that CD first before I could possess that very record in my own hands.

Now that I have the CD inserted in my car stereo I'm loving what I've waited so long to hear. On their last album I became obsessed with one song in particular called "Hallelujah." That song changed my life for the better. Cliche, I realize, but true. This time, though I haven't been remarkably changed yet, I do find myself listening to a new song over and over and over again. It's called "Feeling Sorry" and I'm ridiculously obsessed. So of all songs on their newest album, this one has caught my ear and required my finger to compulsively press repeat.

Lyrics alone don't make the song. I'd say the guitar and harmony contribute greatly. But for viewing pleasure I've listed the lyrics below. I highly recommend jamming out to this song as soon as possible. Preferably with windows down.

"Feeling Sorry" by Paramore

We still live in the same town, well, don't we?
But I don't see you around anymore
I go to all the same places, not even a trace of you
Your days are numbered at 24
And I'm getting bored waiting round for you,
We're not getting any younger, and I
Won't look back 'cause there's no use
It's time to move forward

I feel no sympathy,
You lived inside a cave
You barely get by the rest of us,
You're trying, there's no need to apologize,
I've got no time for feeling sorry

I tried not to think of what might happen,
When your reality, finally, cuts through
Well, as for me, I got out and I'm on the road
The worst part it that this (THIS!) this could be you
You know it too, you can't run from your shame
You're not getting any younger, time,
Is passing by, but you waited awake
It's time to roll over

I feel no sympathy,
You lived inside a cave
You barely get by the rest of us,
You're trying, there's no need to apologize,
I've got no time for feeling sorry

And all the best lies,
They are told with fingers tied
So cross them tight,
Won't you promise me tonight
If it's the last thing you do, you'll get out

I feel no sympathy,
You lived inside a cave
You barely get by the rest of us,
You're trying, there's no need to apologize,
I've got no time, I've got no time

I feel no sympathy,
You lived inside a cave
You barely get by the rest of us,
You're trying, there's no need to apologize,
Got no time!

I've got no time for feeling sorry!
I've got no time for feeling sorry!

one month later

all I can really say is... it's a new year for new beginnings, new relationships, new experiences, new opportunities, and new memories to be made.