HIBERNATION

So, two more weeks and I'm going to hibernate.
With my sister, on our couches. with sleepy time tea.

some bad movies.

and big cozy pjs and blankets.

until then. i have a protools project to finish. a portfolio to finish. five finals. a two minute news program to make. two online quizzes to take. three papers to write. ...and not much sleep to get.

My Porsche

So, if you haven't gotten wind yet, Debbie (Downer) my car, got a slight face lift this weekend. I decided when I was pulling out of the Meijer gas station, on my way home, that the dent on the driver's side back door would be really well accented on the other side by a blue racing stripe donated by the Blue Honda Civic of the man in front of me.
I'm kidding, there's no way in hell I would do that on purpose.
My mom said she's figured out my scheme, I just don't want doors on my car. I told her it would make for better ventilation.
Debbie is a downer because she got sideswiped the first week I brought her up to Muncie, and something's been weird with her ever since. She's a Chevy Cavalier I got the day before I came up to school last year.
So now, since she has a dent on both sides, I figured, I would treat her nicely and make her feel beautiful, since I roughed her up so much. I got her tires rotated, and gave her an oil change, and then yesterday I detailed her interior and got her a new Mistletoe scented air freshner.
See something you need to know is that Debbie smells like a hippie. I don't know who owned her before, because she was a repo from my Dad's bank, but whoever it was liked to smoke weed. My car smells like insence no matter what I do. Everyone comments on this, everyone. I've tried everything, cleaning her, different scented air freshners, leaving the windows slightly down. She still smells like hippie.
I'd never tried a more manly scent, other than Citrus and Sage last year, and that only made it worse. (I don't know why I thought it would help.) But Mistletoe, that could help.
So when I sat down in my car yesterday after the air freshner had been in there for a while, I was relieved to smell it at first. I thought I had finally conquered the hippie in her. And then I breathed in again, and realized that I had accomplished making Debbie smell like Santa had driven her home from Woodstock.
humph.

However, I was reminded of a funny moment from when I was sixteen yesterday.
I had let Sarah, my sister, borrow the Civic for a while when she was up at college, so that she would have a way to get home other than her motorcycle during the winter. I didn't know when she was coming home for Christmas break.
So my Mom and I were driving home one day, while Sarah had the Civic. We pulled onto my road and I saw a Porsche convertible parked nicely in front of my house.
"What's that?" Thinking immediately about when we would have gotten this new car.
My mom however, looked up in the driveway and noticed my Civic was back, she did not notice the Porsche.
"That's your car."
My jaw dropped. Finally, my parents had aknowledged how charitable I had been with the Civic, and rewarded me by getting me this Porsche. I could see it now, driving on the highway with a fruity scarf around my head. With a Porsche of course, I could go anywhere I wanted to, whenever I wanted to. People would see me arrive unexpectedly and just say,
"Oh look, she has a Porsche. Honey, put some lamb in the oven, we have company. And get out our best bottle of wine."
"Really?!" Just double checking. Mom had no idea why I was so excited.
"Yeah, I guess Sarah came home a day early." That's when I looked up and saw the Civic. This is where my dream ended.
"Oh. So...the Porsche isn't ours."
I've never seen my Mom laugh that hard at my expense. I've never been so heart broken over a material object. I knew my fantasy was stupid, but for a moment in time, that Porsche was mine. And it was a beautiful moment.
"You really think if we bought a Porsche, I would give it to YOU?"
Funny Mom funny. She went in the house. I lingered outside for a moment and said goodbye to the random Porsche sitting in front of our house. I found out later it was our neighbor's, but they were having their driveway re-paved and needed somewhere to park it.

Giant Squid

I am deathly afraid of giant squid.
My mom told me to write about this today when we had a good long talk about them.

I think it was Freud that says most irrational fears (although I will argue to the death that this is completely rational of me) stem from something that happened to you at a very young age.
If we're going along this route it all started when my parents took me to Disney World and I rode 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I was the sorry kid who got stuck on the window right next to the big squid eye as the fake submarine restlessly shook the living daylights out of you, while lights flickered, and people screamed, and alarms sounded. This doesn't paint a very pretty picture, especially for a five year old.
A mere seven years later I found myself on family vacation again, except this time we were in the Smithsonian in Washington D.C., in a deep sea science exhibit. Don't misunderstand me, I have a deep passion for all things oceanic, sans giant squid. I didn't even realize I was afraid of giant squid at the time I was twelve, until my father called to me from across the exhibit,
"Laura, come over here. I want to show you something."
Now, my biological father might not have been the coolest guy on earth, but he had a knack for finding pretty awesome museum exhibits. This moment, however, was not one of his strongest. Because what I found when I went to where he was standing was a pickled giant squid eye recovered off of some small Asian Coast. The eye was bigger than me. (Back come all of the associated feelings from the ride seven years prior, in my head alarms were going off, lights were flickering, small children were screaming, including myself.) In this moment of panic I immediately tried to find something to avert my eyes to, only to find a life sized replica of a giant squid next to a life sized replica of a Sperm Whale...and there wasn't much of a size difference.
We weren't in that exhibit much longer after that.

I'm really cruel to myelf, I like to torture myself. For instance, last summer when I was home for a bit, I found myself drawn to a discovery channel special on giant squid and I watched the entirety of it. I was both terrified and intruiged. I learned things, like the fact that giant squid have BEAKS in their tentacles, and that they torture their prey. Their prey include really large things like small whales, sharks, and such. Tons of stories have amassed over the years of how cruel they can be. The only thing that eats them are Sperm Whales.
Rest assured, the Discovery Channel told me no one had actually ever seen a live one. Only dead ones that wash ashore. Dead ones that at their longest have tentacles twenty-five feet long. (That's close to five of me.)

False sense of security Discovery Channel, thanks. Not three months later there was the first ever recorded sighting and proof that giant squid excist somewhere off of the Japanese coast. I saw the pictures. It's scary.

I know you're all thinking that this is completely irrational of me, and probably the lamest phobia a gal could have. But really, its quite rational, and functional. 1. I have every reason to be afraid of giant squid. If I did for some reason encounter one, it would no doubt eat me with its creepy tentacles and beak, and it would hurt, and probably also involve me drowning, etc. 2. It's functional because the odds of this actually occuring are so slim. I can go about my daily life (especially in the midwest) without ever having to worry about running into one. If I was a deepsea fisherman in Japan, this would be quite different.

Anyway, so this summer Rachel and I decided it would be really cool to go to the IMAX. The first one that we went to was called "Deep Sea 3-D." The poster of it had a big sea turtle and some coral-reef madness. It seemed safe enough. Narrated by Johnny Depp, I expected it to be a more interactive real-life Finding Nemo kind of thing. Right before it started I had a forshadowing moment.
"Rache, if there are giant squid in this thing, I'm going to freak out, you realize."
"No Laura, you're completely cool."
"Rache, I'm not sure you get what I'm saying." As I said this, the lights dimmed, children ooh-ed and and ahh-ed, jelly fish danced infront of my nose, and I kept my fear to myself.
About three-fourths through the movie I was suffering from a false sense of security. But then the music changed. Johnny's tone changed. And the background went black.
"BUT in the middle of the ocean you'll find your worst nightmare."
"Dammit." I muttered under my breath. I then tried to convince myself that this would be some kind of shark segment, despite my knowledge that sharks don't live in the middle of the ocean like that.
"They'll eat sharks." Well, there goes that idea. A squid darts across the screen.
"They'll eat humans." Dammit dammit dammit. Two more.
"THEY'LL EAT ANYTHING." The damn squid attacks the camera. In 3-D. So really, this is my worst nightmare. And surrounded by old people and cub-scouts, I was the only ass that screamed. Rache just kept whispering comforting things like, "Laura it's ok. I'm so sorry, It's almost over. shh."

Thank You

Last night was one of those defining moments that sometimes pass too quickly.
Thank You to everyone who came to the CD release show last night, every person there meant the world to me, and everyone else in the band. It was a complete blast.
I'm home in Evansville right now for the first time in three months, and that's nice. It's really good to see my parents. You all have no idea how much I love them. My Mom and Dad are two of my closest friends. I don't make fun of anyone like I do them. Tonight at the dinner table we had a half hour debate on how baldness can be attractive, in an attempt to raise my Dad's self esteem. While he was grabbing seconds I picked up my Mom's copy of Peoplemagazine and found the page where it listed all of the attractive bald men (People=high quality reading.)...(I'm completely joking.) and started listing them, including Patrick Stewart, my childhood and lifetime hero. (Jean Luc Picard from Star Trek, the next generation. STNG for all of you trekkies. I took it there, don't question it.) When Dad came back to the table and was upset that I had cheated by referencing someone else's list.

Just so you know, my Dad looks like Mr. Clean. And he's a badass.
And Mom, well, she's just funny.

Sarah (my sister and soulmate) isn't coming home for Thanksgiving and this upsets me. Why did she have to be an overachiever and go to Harvard. Why Sarah? hmm? How selfish of you, to leave and be successful. (Kidding again, I'm really proud)... (But seriously come home.) Turkey day isn't the same without her to sit around and watch Xena with while the tytrophan wears out of our systems.

Wow, I've dropped a Star Trek and Xena reference in the same blog. Let's drop the biggest nerd-bomb, shall we?



Now here we have the McClouds from the greatest TV show ever, Highlander. Let's bask in the glory.


IN OTHER NEWS.

Again, thank you for everyone who came last night, and all of your support. 62 cds sold, that's impressive guys. If you listen really closely...you can hear the sound of the band slowly getting out of the big hole of debt we're in. And that's comforting.
Plus, we're having incredibly large amounts of fun while we're doing it.
I cannot begin to explain the elation that comes along with being a member of This Story. (www.myspace.com/thisstory) It's such an honor to know all of the guys in the band, and even more of one to call them my friends and comrades. I'm constantly surrounded by a large group of support and love, and that's probably why I find myself hugging them all of the time. The oppurtunities that have arisen from this are immense, and I've made some of the greatest friends of my life.
So honestly, to everyone who has helped, and taken notice of all of the hard work we've put into everything and will continue to do...Thank you.

xoxoxo hearts n' such. Laura

More to it.

Editing still.

I'm inserting this scene somewhere. And the other one is going in my driving home essay. Because I need to talk about the drive home, more than the befores and afters.

How I felt when I saw him. (a challenge from Newg. He doesn't like the idea of falling stomachs or washing relief.)

Imagine a rather large calloused, rough, manual labor hand on your torso. This hand defies physics and reaches into you, hooking the bottom of your stomach with its pinky and the top of your heart with your thumb, this hand then draws itself together, forming a tight fist, stretching and compressing your organs all at once, neglegent of any and all nausea and pain that this might cause you. You are left to just deal with this feeling, experience it a bit, and carry on.
That is how it felt every time I saw him.

more later, I have to go to class.

More editing.

DREW
I met Drew last year when I was sitting in front of the local coffee shop, having a sub-par day. He had a weird staring problem. He kept smiling. As he started to walk by with some friends he said,
“Hey, I like your head band,” and as I turned around to say thank you he stopped and said, “and your eyes.”
We began to email one another and stumbled into a two weeklong conversation about home. I wanted to know how he kept so stable while beings so nomadic.
I feel like this might have actually been a reaction spawned from Ben Danger (for those of you who haven’t read the essay, I have a friend who’s middle name is literally danger, this isn’t the Ben from Florida.). Drew and I met the same week I received news of Ben’s suicide; I was so dumbfounded. How could this character, Drew, grace my life and be flourishing in the same lifestyle that eventually kill Ben? Where was the difference? Where was the line between failure and success? Between life and death.
Eventually one day, ironically, Drew replied to one of my e-mails with,
“You should write me a letter.”
It’s strange the parallels that life presents us with, the breakdown and the buildup. There I was, on the tail end of an intense five-year letter correspondence that ended in eminent disaster, and out of nowhere, appears the second round of life to fill that deep void.
Letters have always been important to me, more so in recent years than anything else. I’ve found that many of the people who are most important to me are the most honest in writing. Ben Danger weaved himself into my life that way. You can look back on letters and see things that you didn’t see before. Writing a letter is giving a part of your self away to another person, sending it off for them to hold, keep, and revisit. Letters are two lives intertwining and resonating.
Drew appealing to that side of me is key. I needed that jolt of optimism, compassion, and love after such a dismal finale from Ben.

i know you're reading this

It has come to my attention that people are actually reading this, occasionally when bored.
not even necessarily people I know very well. I'm talking to facebook stalkers. Which is cool, I mean, I'm the one who put a link to this up there.
But you're all being creepy by not saying anything, and just reading. That's really stalker-ish.
So if you're shadowing me, atleast let me know. Give me feed back, I'd appreciatte it.
If you're just reading this, and not saying anythng because you think I'll be weirded out that youre reading it at all, you're wrong.
You reading is equivalent to being the creepy kid who sat behind you in fourth grade and breathed to hard, making you ever aware of his presence.
I forget his name, but that's of no consequence, we all knew that kid. He was friends with the guy who ate paste waaaay longer than necessary.
Don't be that guy.

Things I Wrote Today

So I started to expand and revise my paper on driving home for the first time after the tornado hit Newburgh. I've decided that this essay is going to be alot longer when I'm done revising it, because there are some things that I am ready to delve into, and it has been asked of me.
In the draft that was returned to me Todd had underlined certain passages and asked that I expand on them. So my goal today was just that.

SUMMARY: the essay is about fall semester of my sophmore year, when a tornado went through my home town amidst other personal chaos, and the different methods of coping with this. It goes through the initial shock, processing, anger, outlash, preperation for returning, and finally getting home.

LINE ONE:
"The churning bile in my stomach" (upon being told that a tornado went through)
The lining of your stomach is amazingly thin for all of the acids it contains in order to digest. The feeling of all of this eroding inside of me was what I used as a momentary distraction as I dialed. So I didn't have to think about how to react if my home was gone, if my parents were hurt, if my dog and cats were now stray and injured.

LINE TWO: "I let him know exactly what I thought of him and his opinions." (aka: that one time I bitched out a guy in my Symbolic Logic Class. Originally I just left the bitching out to the reader's imagination.)
My voice and my words cast a larger shadow over the classroom than I am physically capable of casting. I remember noticing my classmate's faces as I spoke, rather than thinking about what I was saying. They were either watching, jaws slightly ajar, or looking down with guilt. Guilt that wasn't theres to feel. Guilt I was enducing.
They didn't cause the tornado. There was no one to blame. But I was giving a verbal lashing so that for a moment, they could feel a lesser version of what I was going through, of what my friends were going through, of what all of those families were going through.
We were all helpless. There was nothing any of us could have done to prevent the tornado, or anticipated it more. There was nothing that my classmates could do to prevent me from verbally lashing out at this guy. His seemingly harmless sarcasm had snapped something in me. I went into a mode of communicaiton that is unhindered, I verbally unleashed a rare side of me, the blatant side, the side that is uncompromising and void of forgiveness.

LINE THREE: How this all shaped my character. Because I keep saying it did, but I don't say how.
"I started to really make decisions for myself in this time. I decided who I wanted to be, to operate in the image of the woman that I want to grow up to be. I thought alot about how she, that grown and mature adult version of myself, would act in these situations. I started to respect her opinions and values, I started to respect my own. I started to view myself as valuable and capable, as independent and consistant.

SOON TO COME: "Indiana-grey"
For those of you who live here, you know what I'm talking about. Indiana deserves its own grey crayon. If you don't believe me, look out at the overcast sky.

witnessing.

I just witnessed a pivotal moment in a girl's life.
She was downstairs in the Atrium making small talk with a girl behind the counter in the Barnes and Noble cafe, asking about the school. This is where she's coming.
I remember my freshmen orientation and thinking that college felt alot like summer camp at that point, and hating it. My mom and I lied to come home early.
When I sat down in my first class I felt like I ruled the school, and moved because I was suspect that the upper classmen in front of me would undoubtedly copy off of me. I felt like a different breed.
I never thought I would actually be living the life that I had daydreamed of since highschool. That I would be making something of my music, skipping classes with professor's permission so that I could go to play shows in Bloomington.
That I would cut out some of the most devastating characters in my life, who lived under the guises of my closest and dearest friends. Through that learning the value of real friendship, and meeting the people who would reinforce my true character, the people who I wake up thinking of, and looking forward to. (Sarah, Stevi, Puckett, Justin, Newg, Sarah v. 2.0, Ali, Ashley, etc. etc. etc.)
Content isn't one of those words that was ever really synonymous with my life.
But sitting down and writing, or talking, or walking, or any verb that I can think of, I find that I am really proud of myself. I know that there's so much more beauty to come, but I like where I'm at right now.
So much to look forward to.

Ok, now someone go light a candle and sing some folk songs about rainbows and harmony.

conversation with newg

ME: stupid question
CHRIS: (raise of eyebrow)
ME: when you’re typing oohed is it o-o-h-e-d or o-o-‘-d?
CHRIS: (Contemplative face)
There’s no ‘h’ in ‘ood” other wise it’s oohed.
ME:Really?
CHRIS: Really.
ME: You sure?
CHRIS: Yeah.
ME: huh…….but still is there an apostrophe in that?”

Dave Sedaris

he's gotten alot better, as was said in class, this book is good because it's focused, not random.
(Dave Eggers always has my heart though.)
Hearing Sedaris in class did change the way i read the book though. His voice was alot less lethargic and nasel- based in my head. So that definitely put a damper on the reading occasion for me.

Discovering the deeper meaning of Hijara to me today was like a goldmine. I love unearthing deeper meanings behind things like that, it means alot to me. I really want to assume that Sedaris took it to the deepest level on that, that he was fully aware of the fact that Hijara was Mohammed's fleeing of his homeland after being enlightened in Mecca, leaving behind everything that he had known with just his first wife and some followers and family, just so that they wouldn't be persecuted.
That's one of the most sacred Islamic stories. It's the reason that they have to visit Mecca in their life time.

He had to have known in order to sight that, correct.

Plus, you know a story has deeper meaning when a Joni Mitchell song is involved.

I guess the thing that I enjoy most about Sedaris's writing is that he makes us connect the dots. you know?
more on this later.

the Major Deal

So.
It's of my opinion that you should be able to invest passion into all of your work, or you shouldn't be doing it.
Therefore, the classes that you're majoring in should probably be your favorite classes right?
It's not that I don't like audio production, I love protools etc. etc... but we're not learning what I want to do with it. So far we've recorded outdoor noises, radio spots, and now more indoor noises. I can only record a flushing toilet so many times. I want to produce music, and that's not what the focus is in telecommunications it seems. Everyone around me wants to move to LA and make movies.

I don't want to do that at all.
I mean, not even close.
So I don't really identify with anyone in my classes because none of them want to do what I do. And isn't that the point of a major?

On another note, I've fallen in love with my english minor, but it's too late to major in it if I want to graduate anytime soon.
And I could do my other minor, comm studies... that's feasable.
Those are all of the classes I love, to be quite honest. And I'm better at them too.

what to do.
and what's with the shame of a general studies major?
I could do that and graduate with four minors in four years.
is that so bad?