Today, without being anywhere near as quiet as yesterday, was almost as good as yesterday.
Today I learned a lot about the kids themselves, but the two I want to focus on are Am-- and Jo--, the two biggest pains.
Am-- is a teenager in a very stereotypical sense, except more on the punk side than fashionista, but she is not just at this camp because her mother sent her, or at least I don't think so. She often seems more interested in listening to music than writing, but today, the way she got into the story being written, she knew what sounded good when she heard it, even when she couldn't come up with it. I wish I could get her to be verbally gentler with people, because she's got a tongue like a switchblade, and very specific ideas of what's cool and what's stupid. But today I ended up liking her better than I ever have.
Because Am-- can be so merciless with her, I've become a little unwillingly protective of Jo--. Today I became more so, because I found out a couple of things about her that I didn't know before. First, that she is only in this country for a year. Her English is so amazingly good that I have no idea whether she ever lived here before or not (I thought she was native), but she's going back to Korea at some point. America must have had some influence on South Korea, or she maybe wouldn't have become such an individualistic child. She still does annoying things, things where even in Korea she ought to know better: today she turned off the lights in the theater while everyone was working on the story or minding their own business, and then she leaned way into a picture being taken and blocked two of the kids.
But she plays piano quite well, and I got a moment that said a lot to me: she sat there doing a math problem that I last encountered sometime around the ninth grade. She's in about sixth or seventh. She asked me for help, but I couldn't give her much; she sat there covering a sheet of notebook paper in algebra until Ro-- asked her whether she was obsessed with math. When Jo-- said no, Ro-- asked why she did it, then.
"My mom makes me do it at home," Jo-- said. ...I've seen her mother, leading Jo--'s little six-year-old sister around by the hand. Jo--'s mother looks lively and young and sort of pampered, but I pictured her as the type to let Jo-- out of homework to watch TV, not as the type to set her Course II math. Good gracious, eleven years old and already she's like one of the double-accelerated kids from high school with the crazy mothers, like Glenn and his.
And something clicked today: though she's still more likely to do something to annoy me than anyone else, she also said she thought I did a good job here (Je-- from last week is the only other one to even imply that, so it feels good every time), and she gave me a flower bud that had fallen on the ground (I was relieved she hadn't plucked it right off the George Eastman garden plants, because she's someone who would), and she actually linked arms with me a couple of times, not because I tried, but because she did.
I think in the end I'm going to like her, and probably should have seen that coming. But if her mom isn't signing her up for any more camps, tomorrow may be the day of truth. We'll see.
In the meantime, the joys of this week, because in the end there have been three: Li--, who is about seven different kinds of cute; Ta--, who is the most well-behaved and most understanding preteen boy I've ever met, besides being quite a good actor; and Ca--, who has a sunny smile and takes so much delight in having figured out my little secret, that my hands start twitching when my concentration turns into daydream.
-Laurel
6.30.2005
6.29.2005
This is a non-furious post.
Today I actually enjoyed W&B. We went on a tour of the Eastman House and then had some relatively quiet snacktime. Still no progress on the Wendy front, but I can tell that Jo-- got the picture about not bugging me for extra snacks, if only because this time, as far as I can tell, she essentially swiped another handful instead of asking me for permission.
The Inner Loop is back open, which I discovered when I missed my turn onto Goodman, something I have not done at all until today. I have timed two different routes home (taking two different exits off the expressway) and conclude that they are essentially equivalent, except that one of them has the advantage of avoiding the three-way stop and the train tracks. If you're coming home right at rush hour, that route would be the one to take. My parents never actually do it that way, so I feel pretty cool.
Also, in tonight's Very Special Telephone Moment, Erik decided that Albert, rather than being called Eric, should've been differentiated from the other Alberts in his family by being called Albert, Lord Viper Scorpion Master of Carnage. ...Honest, I didn't do anything to provoke that. He came out with that on his own.
Great Northern Gathering to occur in an hour. And then some room-cleaning, 'cause that should probably get done sometime before the weekend, huh?
-Laurel
The Inner Loop is back open, which I discovered when I missed my turn onto Goodman, something I have not done at all until today. I have timed two different routes home (taking two different exits off the expressway) and conclude that they are essentially equivalent, except that one of them has the advantage of avoiding the three-way stop and the train tracks. If you're coming home right at rush hour, that route would be the one to take. My parents never actually do it that way, so I feel pretty cool.
Also, in tonight's Very Special Telephone Moment, Erik decided that Albert, rather than being called Eric, should've been differentiated from the other Alberts in his family by being called Albert, Lord Viper Scorpion Master of Carnage. ...Honest, I didn't do anything to provoke that. He came out with that on his own.
Great Northern Gathering to occur in an hour. And then some room-cleaning, 'cause that should probably get done sometime before the weekend, huh?
-Laurel
6.28.2005
Ruddy crap on a cracker. When did I turn into a horrible adult among horrible children?
Today at W&B was even more miserable than yesterday. You don't want to hear it.
It is probably not things that other people would get as angry about as I do. But not only do I want more every day to quit, I also, for the first time in my life, feel totally unqualified to ever be a parent to anyone older than ten. Foster-parenting to elementary-age children, here I come. Oh, boy.
-Laurel
It is probably not things that other people would get as angry about as I do. But not only do I want more every day to quit, I also, for the first time in my life, feel totally unqualified to ever be a parent to anyone older than ten. Foster-parenting to elementary-age children, here I come. Oh, boy.
-Laurel
6.27.2005
Is it the weekend yet?
Happy birthday to Bethie.
Once again, not the most auspicious beginning to my week: when Wendy told me I was going to have to come to the George Eastman house for this particular camp, she apparently left out the second half of her sentence, which should have been, "but not 'til Tuesday." (This one is not a literature-type camp per se, but photography and related writing, hence Eastman.) So today I got to the Eastman House and they weren't there, and after wandering about the grounds (which are huge, and I've never been there) and finally checking with the personnel, I discovered that they weren't supposed to be there. So I went back to W&B, and lo! there they all were. Good thing I'd left work early, so that I was on time when I got to where I was really supposed to be.
The group is much bigger this time, about 12 kids, and a wider age range, from about 8 to about 12. Guess who's the only kid in there I know.
Jo--, who spotted me, grabbed my arm, literally claimed me as her own, and started bugging me about Fluxx, which she continued to do at about five-minute intervals for the next half-hour. ...I'm convinced that it's Gr-- who represents Mallory and Jessi from the Baby-Sitters Club books, because she is the only eleven-year-old I've come across this summer who approaches that kind of maturity level.
Also: Wendy has a particular talent for making me feel really stupid, even though she's not doing anything but standing there. Like seriously, I ask the dumbest questions around her. I can't imagine what she must be thinking about my computer skills, for one thing, considering I outlined my passable computer qualifications during the interview (Office, HTML, quick typing, whatever), only to come in and find all Macs, every last one. So today I learned how to use Photoshop.
So did Lisa and Sue, the two actual teachers. They're nice, especially Sue, who says that this is like an internship for her, too, since Lisa called to ask for her help. Also assisting part of the time: Alan, who's about fifteen and is pretty cool so far.
I am trying to ask more specific questions, so that I know where I'm supposed to be, when, and having done what beforehand, even if it means I end up bringing "homework" upon myself (tonight I'm going to cut shapes out of paper for what they call "concrete poetry," which it turns out is essentially shaped poetry). We'll see whether that improves things. ...I've yet to enjoy any day at the place, and I've been there for six afternoons now. But getting to know the city better has already been, and will probably continue to be, invaluable.
-Laurel
Once again, not the most auspicious beginning to my week: when Wendy told me I was going to have to come to the George Eastman house for this particular camp, she apparently left out the second half of her sentence, which should have been, "but not 'til Tuesday." (This one is not a literature-type camp per se, but photography and related writing, hence Eastman.) So today I got to the Eastman House and they weren't there, and after wandering about the grounds (which are huge, and I've never been there) and finally checking with the personnel, I discovered that they weren't supposed to be there. So I went back to W&B, and lo! there they all were. Good thing I'd left work early, so that I was on time when I got to where I was really supposed to be.
The group is much bigger this time, about 12 kids, and a wider age range, from about 8 to about 12. Guess who's the only kid in there I know.
Jo--, who spotted me, grabbed my arm, literally claimed me as her own, and started bugging me about Fluxx, which she continued to do at about five-minute intervals for the next half-hour. ...I'm convinced that it's Gr-- who represents Mallory and Jessi from the Baby-Sitters Club books, because she is the only eleven-year-old I've come across this summer who approaches that kind of maturity level.
Also: Wendy has a particular talent for making me feel really stupid, even though she's not doing anything but standing there. Like seriously, I ask the dumbest questions around her. I can't imagine what she must be thinking about my computer skills, for one thing, considering I outlined my passable computer qualifications during the interview (Office, HTML, quick typing, whatever), only to come in and find all Macs, every last one. So today I learned how to use Photoshop.
So did Lisa and Sue, the two actual teachers. They're nice, especially Sue, who says that this is like an internship for her, too, since Lisa called to ask for her help. Also assisting part of the time: Alan, who's about fifteen and is pretty cool so far.
I am trying to ask more specific questions, so that I know where I'm supposed to be, when, and having done what beforehand, even if it means I end up bringing "homework" upon myself (tonight I'm going to cut shapes out of paper for what they call "concrete poetry," which it turns out is essentially shaped poetry). We'll see whether that improves things. ...I've yet to enjoy any day at the place, and I've been there for six afternoons now. But getting to know the city better has already been, and will probably continue to be, invaluable.
-Laurel
6.26.2005
Come on. You know you want to. Everybody's doing it.
They make you enter your blog (or LJ, or Xanga, or whatever) address, but I didn't see them actually ask me questions about the links, as they said. Maybe that part comes later, over e-mail. I didn't pay attention. In any case, they let you log back in and change your answers and stuff. ...I probably should have put in my regular ZIP code, rather than the one for school, but...I didn't. Anyway, I spend more months there than home.
The more people who take it, the better it is statistically, so c'mon, if I, the paranoiac, am listing QPQ's URL for MIT, then you better jump on this bandwagon ASAP. ::giggles:: BBQ!
...Saw Lily Jo's brother Elrod (nickname) graduate from high school on Friday night, and the party was last night. Nice time. Was wonderful to see Sam. And I came up with a good image: the fireflies all around the pond, and the water moving a little in the mostly-dark, made the whole scene look like an evening gown from where I stood on the hill. One of those award-show-type deals.
No brother until at least Tuesday 'cause he's with Aunt Lisa. The practical consequence: I can play DDR whenever the heck I want to, and I should.
Oh ruddy crud, I've got to figure out where to go for W&B tomorrow, 'cause we're in the George Eastman House. ...Yeah. I live in Rochester. There's no point in hiding it anymore. Besides, it's going to be way easier to talk about this stuff if I don't even try.
-Laurel
6.22.2005
10 things I hate about (Double)you (& B)
So, and this was about three days in the making, I finally lost it during an interminable game of Fluxx with the sixth-graders during a breaktime they barely even deserved. I don't think they even noticed, which is good, because they would have realized that I was trying to fight immaturity with immaturity.
I guess that's what I'm like, 'cause I also do it with APO. I can take disorder, disrespect, and apathy for only so long when shut in a room and surrounded by whatever unruly brats are in question, and then I just can't deal with it anymore, and I do something stupid. And every time the reaction is the same: what's with *her?*, rather than what's with us?
Fine to hear from Kim that eventually, when I'm not 20 anymore, I'll get a sense of humor, but I wish the heck she'd get a sense of discipline, because those kids walk over her with the same abandon with which they walk over each other, and it angers me just to watch. I mean, Gr-- and E-- are fine, and Ga-- often is, too. And Je-- is wonderful to Kim and me, it's just that sometimes he gets arguing with Z-- and/or Jo--, who, I am sorry, really get on my nerves, too. ...Jo-- unnerves me more than Z--, if only because I can't shake the feeling that I was probably a little like her in sixth grade, and if so, I hereby apologize to everyone I've ever met, because there are times when I totally want to be like, will you just stop being prissy and self-righteous for five minutes and shut *up*?! 'Cause the annoying thing is, Gr-- is a little self-righteous, but Gr-- is usually doing the right thing in actuality. I like her a lot. Jo--, on the other hand, is prissy and self-righteous and often as not she's adding to the trouble. Like, dang.
So, this entire week taken as a whole, I'm really sucking at life, but next week will probably be better. And I get to see Lily Jo this weekend, I think.
-Laurel
I guess that's what I'm like, 'cause I also do it with APO. I can take disorder, disrespect, and apathy for only so long when shut in a room and surrounded by whatever unruly brats are in question, and then I just can't deal with it anymore, and I do something stupid. And every time the reaction is the same: what's with *her?*, rather than what's with us?
Fine to hear from Kim that eventually, when I'm not 20 anymore, I'll get a sense of humor, but I wish the heck she'd get a sense of discipline, because those kids walk over her with the same abandon with which they walk over each other, and it angers me just to watch. I mean, Gr-- and E-- are fine, and Ga-- often is, too. And Je-- is wonderful to Kim and me, it's just that sometimes he gets arguing with Z-- and/or Jo--, who, I am sorry, really get on my nerves, too. ...Jo-- unnerves me more than Z--, if only because I can't shake the feeling that I was probably a little like her in sixth grade, and if so, I hereby apologize to everyone I've ever met, because there are times when I totally want to be like, will you just stop being prissy and self-righteous for five minutes and shut *up*?! 'Cause the annoying thing is, Gr-- is a little self-righteous, but Gr-- is usually doing the right thing in actuality. I like her a lot. Jo--, on the other hand, is prissy and self-righteous and often as not she's adding to the trouble. Like, dang.
So, this entire week taken as a whole, I'm really sucking at life, but next week will probably be better. And I get to see Lily Jo this weekend, I think.
-Laurel
6.20.2005
::mops brow wearily::
The past two weeks have thrown way too darn much at me. The newest one: starting out at W&B.
That was all right. Even though school hasn't let out for a lot of the suburbs yet, a couple of the gifted and private schools in the city have, and there's a class going on for ages 9-13 where they learn about Shakespeare and do some acting. Only the lady who runs it every year got bronchitis or something, and there's a girl running it now named Kim. Theater major who just graduated like a month ago, substitute teaching as a job normally. She took over the class, and while I can tell it was probably supposed to be structured differently, the class is in the process of putting on excerpts from A Midsummer Night's Dream (which I love), and each child has about three roles. Today we did costuming and a lot of outdoor time.
There are six students, or so I'll call them, and all just about the age to finish sixth grade. Three boys, three girls. I'm glad there are only six of them. It's been a long time since I've done anything with sixth-graders, and I do not envy anyone who has to teach, live with, or otherwise deal with one for more than three-and-a-half hours at a time. Oh, to have my four-year-olds from church back! But it went well, and I do like them, and I like Kim a lot.
I am really, really tired, though. Like unreasonably so. Plus bored. This is not a good sign.
-Laurel
That was all right. Even though school hasn't let out for a lot of the suburbs yet, a couple of the gifted and private schools in the city have, and there's a class going on for ages 9-13 where they learn about Shakespeare and do some acting. Only the lady who runs it every year got bronchitis or something, and there's a girl running it now named Kim. Theater major who just graduated like a month ago, substitute teaching as a job normally. She took over the class, and while I can tell it was probably supposed to be structured differently, the class is in the process of putting on excerpts from A Midsummer Night's Dream (which I love), and each child has about three roles. Today we did costuming and a lot of outdoor time.
There are six students, or so I'll call them, and all just about the age to finish sixth grade. Three boys, three girls. I'm glad there are only six of them. It's been a long time since I've done anything with sixth-graders, and I do not envy anyone who has to teach, live with, or otherwise deal with one for more than three-and-a-half hours at a time. Oh, to have my four-year-olds from church back! But it went well, and I do like them, and I like Kim a lot.
I am really, really tired, though. Like unreasonably so. Plus bored. This is not a good sign.
-Laurel
6.19.2005
Exciting update!
I beat all 42 games! But I still didn't get a high score. I guess I wasn't fast enough on some of them.
Incidentally, you have to know a little of the second book to get one or two of the trivia questions. But, believe me, not much. I know because that's as far in the series as I got.
-Laurel
Incidentally, you have to know a little of the second book to get one or two of the trivia questions. But, believe me, not much. I know because that's as far in the series as I got.
-Laurel
Stinkin' addictive, Hitchhiker-type game!
Play if you dare.
It's actually set up as 42 minigames, shuffled. I've successfully passed about 18 at a stretch so far. I think they limit the trivia questions to the first book only; most of the minigames don't have a whole lot to do with anything at all. My advice: don't expect to fully grasp some of the games the first time they're thrown at you. This is a game to play when you've got 15 or 20 minutes on your hands.
-Laurel
It's actually set up as 42 minigames, shuffled. I've successfully passed about 18 at a stretch so far. I think they limit the trivia questions to the first book only; most of the minigames don't have a whole lot to do with anything at all. My advice: don't expect to fully grasp some of the games the first time they're thrown at you. This is a game to play when you've got 15 or 20 minutes on your hands.
-Laurel
That's what I love about Sunday
Oh man. I totally just used a country-music lyric for a post title, and it wasn't Johnny Cash or somebody, either. Jeesh. In that case, that one's for you, Zinni.
See, I was going to complain about politics, but now I'm not, because when I got online, I started talking to Matt, and we were both bored, so we organized a last-minute bowling outing in like an hour, which will be way more fun.
Here's what I think is funny about the Gooseberry Patch cookbook I got from my mom (because my Aunt Jan gave it to her a while back and she didn't really want it): it divides up the recipes into sections, and I was like, ooh! Vegetable recipes!, thinking there'd be some nice little insightful ways to make healthy food actually taste good. But I was wrong, because like 90% of them are either potato or corn recipes, which in my opinion are not true vegetables, but vegetable-and-bread-product hybrids. ...My mother used to tell me that they were really starches, and here I am finally believing her. To paraphrase a greeting card I once saw, this is weird, but not nearly as weird as when I do things that my dad does. ::giggles::
Ice cream with Aneya and Bethie was fun. Yeah for wandering around plazas. Yay for the only kosher establishment in the chain. Yay for random weirdos.
-Laurel
See, I was going to complain about politics, but now I'm not, because when I got online, I started talking to Matt, and we were both bored, so we organized a last-minute bowling outing in like an hour, which will be way more fun.
Here's what I think is funny about the Gooseberry Patch cookbook I got from my mom (because my Aunt Jan gave it to her a while back and she didn't really want it): it divides up the recipes into sections, and I was like, ooh! Vegetable recipes!, thinking there'd be some nice little insightful ways to make healthy food actually taste good. But I was wrong, because like 90% of them are either potato or corn recipes, which in my opinion are not true vegetables, but vegetable-and-bread-product hybrids. ...My mother used to tell me that they were really starches, and here I am finally believing her. To paraphrase a greeting card I once saw, this is weird, but not nearly as weird as when I do things that my dad does. ::giggles::
Ice cream with Aneya and Bethie was fun. Yeah for wandering around plazas. Yay for the only kosher establishment in the chain. Yay for random weirdos.
-Laurel
6.18.2005
My village called; their idiot is missing, and they want me to come home...
It's five minutes to ten in the morning, and already I'm responsible for chaos and disaster. That's even earlier than usual.
Having gotten into an argument last night with my brother, culminating in his refusing to speak to me pretty much ever again (this isn't going to last long, believe me), I never managed to tell him last night that I'd be at W&B training from 9-2:30. So I left him a note saying I'd be gone all day, even though my car was still in the driveway. Since Bethie is co-oping just down the street, she offered a ride, since afterwards we'd be meeting Aneya for ice cream anyway.
So at 8:30, when Bethie came, I was ready to go, and though I didn't realize that Bethie had never been on the Inner Loop before (this's the inner city kind of mini-expressway; it's much easier at 8:45 AM than 4:30 PM), I navigated passably, and we got to W&B without incident.
The first sign something was wrong was the door there being locked, even though the training was supposed to start in ten minutes. We hung round the door for a minute and the front-desk lady came from the next parking lot over with a styrofoam coffee cup in her hand and unlocked the door for us. Bethie went back to her car and I went in.
Seeing nobody around, I asked the lady if training was today, and she said she didn't think so, but she'd call Wendy, who was upstairs--Wendy is the lady who interviewed me and gave me the internship. Wendy said no, no training, and could I come upstairs for a minute?
I found her office and she explained that the training wasn't for another month. (Oh. Um...okay...) However, if I wanted to start working on Monday, I could do so, since there's a Shakespeare class getting ready for a performance, and they need some help. Okay, I said, I can be there by 1:00. I got a few details. They're not enough, but with this internship, so far getting enough detail has been the biggest challenge. (She didn't even remember she was supposed to interview me the day I came, c'mon. I can see how much excitement I inspire.)
So I called Bethie, fully expecting her to have to come out of work and back to W&B, but she was still in the parking lot, so together we set off again for the Inner Loop.
The entrance was closed. The part we'd gotten off was open, but the part to get back on was closed. Okay...so we drove around and found a sign leading to the expressway back west.
It led back to the entrance, which was closed. Okay.
So we took another way, followed signs this time that led to the detour.
The detour led back to the entrance. Which was closed.
After accidentally leading Bethie the wrong way down a one-way street (nothing happened; the other drivers had a red light and then realized what we were doing. Nobody even honked, which was merciful), we got back on the road to W&B, took another road Bethie knew about, and finally got the heck out of the city, and she took me home, after that half-hour we'd just spent finding the same closed entrance to the Inner Loop.
Came back and checked my e-mail. July 16th. It said July 16th, right there. The only thing I might have confused it with was the kids' concert, but that's not 'til June 26th, and I don't plan on coming unless asked point-blank by Wendy. How, how, how did I miss that? I checked the e-mail like four times; just how much of a moron can I possibly be? Well, apparently we have our answer.
Good thing going to work today was optional for Bethie, and that she had to go get her dad a birthday present anyway. Good thing I found out today that the Inner Loop entrance was closed, and not on Monday at 4:30, when driving around aimlessly in the city is practically asking to be hit. I know another way to go to get home, and will do that.
Still thinking of a way to make it up to her. Not much progress yet.
I want to go back to bed, but now I'm all showered and ponytailed and...forget it. I'm lying down and seeing what happens from there.
-Laurel
Having gotten into an argument last night with my brother, culminating in his refusing to speak to me pretty much ever again (this isn't going to last long, believe me), I never managed to tell him last night that I'd be at W&B training from 9-2:30. So I left him a note saying I'd be gone all day, even though my car was still in the driveway. Since Bethie is co-oping just down the street, she offered a ride, since afterwards we'd be meeting Aneya for ice cream anyway.
So at 8:30, when Bethie came, I was ready to go, and though I didn't realize that Bethie had never been on the Inner Loop before (this's the inner city kind of mini-expressway; it's much easier at 8:45 AM than 4:30 PM), I navigated passably, and we got to W&B without incident.
The first sign something was wrong was the door there being locked, even though the training was supposed to start in ten minutes. We hung round the door for a minute and the front-desk lady came from the next parking lot over with a styrofoam coffee cup in her hand and unlocked the door for us. Bethie went back to her car and I went in.
Seeing nobody around, I asked the lady if training was today, and she said she didn't think so, but she'd call Wendy, who was upstairs--Wendy is the lady who interviewed me and gave me the internship. Wendy said no, no training, and could I come upstairs for a minute?
I found her office and she explained that the training wasn't for another month. (Oh. Um...okay...) However, if I wanted to start working on Monday, I could do so, since there's a Shakespeare class getting ready for a performance, and they need some help. Okay, I said, I can be there by 1:00. I got a few details. They're not enough, but with this internship, so far getting enough detail has been the biggest challenge. (She didn't even remember she was supposed to interview me the day I came, c'mon. I can see how much excitement I inspire.)
So I called Bethie, fully expecting her to have to come out of work and back to W&B, but she was still in the parking lot, so together we set off again for the Inner Loop.
The entrance was closed. The part we'd gotten off was open, but the part to get back on was closed. Okay...so we drove around and found a sign leading to the expressway back west.
It led back to the entrance, which was closed. Okay.
So we took another way, followed signs this time that led to the detour.
The detour led back to the entrance. Which was closed.
After accidentally leading Bethie the wrong way down a one-way street (nothing happened; the other drivers had a red light and then realized what we were doing. Nobody even honked, which was merciful), we got back on the road to W&B, took another road Bethie knew about, and finally got the heck out of the city, and she took me home, after that half-hour we'd just spent finding the same closed entrance to the Inner Loop.
Came back and checked my e-mail. July 16th. It said July 16th, right there. The only thing I might have confused it with was the kids' concert, but that's not 'til June 26th, and I don't plan on coming unless asked point-blank by Wendy. How, how, how did I miss that? I checked the e-mail like four times; just how much of a moron can I possibly be? Well, apparently we have our answer.
Good thing going to work today was optional for Bethie, and that she had to go get her dad a birthday present anyway. Good thing I found out today that the Inner Loop entrance was closed, and not on Monday at 4:30, when driving around aimlessly in the city is practically asking to be hit. I know another way to go to get home, and will do that.
Still thinking of a way to make it up to her. Not much progress yet.
I want to go back to bed, but now I'm all showered and ponytailed and...forget it. I'm lying down and seeing what happens from there.
-Laurel
6.17.2005
Testing one, two...
Hurrah for learning new HTML-ness. The following link should open in a new window, instead of taking you out of my blog:
Google News
Source code goes like this (assuming your browser supports the XMP tag, which it might not; if not, this's going to display like a copy of the link above):
<a href="http://news.google.com" target="_blank">Google News</a>
It's that "target" part tacked on at the end that's key.
...On a completely different note, I think we should bring back "lunkhead" as a popular insult, a la Calvin and Hobbes.
-Laurel
Google News
Source code goes like this (assuming your browser supports the XMP tag, which it might not; if not, this's going to display like a copy of the link above):
It's that "target" part tacked on at the end that's key.
...On a completely different note, I think we should bring back "lunkhead" as a popular insult, a la Calvin and Hobbes.
-Laurel
6.15.2005
More freakiness, but also some nice stuff
Did Wednesday randomly decide to become the Day of Doom, or what?
Today I ended up working all day 'cause my car was being inspected (turned out fine), and everyone at work's freaking out, especially Marj, and I don't even want to get into all that, but it wasn't pretty.
And then I get home to find that 'Nanda randomly passed out today, much like Muppet-Lindsey from school periodically does(/did, since she's graduated) and spent part of today in the hospital hooked up to an IV. Completely randomly. Like, huh?
Except that I didn't at any point panic here, because I got the message once Ananda was home safe. Which was good.
Was bored out of my mind, so I finally went to actually visit Glenn (gaspo!) and taught him Fluxx. That was shortish but cool. We got a bit of the leftover food from the middle-school-award-ceremony reception. And I got to hang around the middle school library and learn, essentially, how to manipulate the network. ::snorts:: Not that I remember any of it.
And I got to talk to lots of nice people tonight, and find a funny online "stress-reliever" that I may mention more when I'm not really tired.
I want to go back to the used bookstore soon. So maybe I will.
And, see, I thought my obsession with "Speed of Sound" was waning, and then I discovered that it kinda wasn't.
I have a feeling, unfortunately, that the Newbery Project will not be completed on schedule. If my count tonight was right, I'm just over halfway completed, and that's good, but not good enough. Though it may have been ten short, since I can't remember whether I went "38, 39, 30, 31" or not. That would be more promising, but I'd still have to bust my butt.
Okay. It's bedtime and stuff.
-Laurel
Today I ended up working all day 'cause my car was being inspected (turned out fine), and everyone at work's freaking out, especially Marj, and I don't even want to get into all that, but it wasn't pretty.
And then I get home to find that 'Nanda randomly passed out today, much like Muppet-Lindsey from school periodically does(/did, since she's graduated) and spent part of today in the hospital hooked up to an IV. Completely randomly. Like, huh?
Except that I didn't at any point panic here, because I got the message once Ananda was home safe. Which was good.
Was bored out of my mind, so I finally went to actually visit Glenn (gaspo!) and taught him Fluxx. That was shortish but cool. We got a bit of the leftover food from the middle-school-award-ceremony reception. And I got to hang around the middle school library and learn, essentially, how to manipulate the network. ::snorts:: Not that I remember any of it.
And I got to talk to lots of nice people tonight, and find a funny online "stress-reliever" that I may mention more when I'm not really tired.
I want to go back to the used bookstore soon. So maybe I will.
And, see, I thought my obsession with "Speed of Sound" was waning, and then I discovered that it kinda wasn't.
I have a feeling, unfortunately, that the Newbery Project will not be completed on schedule. If my count tonight was right, I'm just over halfway completed, and that's good, but not good enough. Though it may have been ten short, since I can't remember whether I went "38, 39, 30, 31" or not. That would be more promising, but I'd still have to bust my butt.
Okay. It's bedtime and stuff.
-Laurel
6.13.2005
Housekeeping
Link of the whenever: http://www.sithsense.com
Newberys finished this weekend, both on Saturday, June 11th: The Wheel on the School (which was good in the same way Dobry was good, but that's hard to explain) and Secret of the Andes (which, though it took place in Peru, was really not the most exciting or clearly-written Newbery I've ever read).
Aneya, Bethie, and I have vague but excited plans to visit every Abbott's in the area. One down, seventeen non-Bill-Gray's branches to go (they don't count; we're being purists).
And now, a very special AIM moment, not because I was actually insulted, but because I burst out laughing:
Laurel: Greetings.
Albert: ACKKKK!!!!!
...Here's what I remember about last Wednesday, before Heather, when I was out with Aneya and Bethie:
-getting lost in the city
-getting to the theater, only to discover that the show had been cancelled
-promptly getting the heck out of the city and going down to the canal
-getting Chinese food and passing it around (and getting funny straws)
-Aneya's fortune being the best ruddy ever: "If you tempt a squirrel with a nut, be prepared to be bitten."
-Going into the IGA, initially to get our fifteen-cent refund from the night's soda cans. And sniffing like everything imaginable. Product-wise, not drug-wise, but I bet the other random shoppers wondered. (Quote: "We are so going to be somebody's blog entry for this: 'And there were these three really stupid girls...'")
-Abbott's, Part 1
-The only skeevy bar-and-grill in Spencerport (in fact, perhaps the only bar-and-grill in Spencerport, period), which we discovered on a bathroom search ('cause, seriously, what did you think we were in there for?). How do we know it was skeevy? Because it had a song playing with a chorus that began, quote, "I'll never smoke weed with women again." ...Really. All together now: "Huh?!" And slooooowly back away. Once you've washed your hands. (Also, the paper towel dispenser in there had, embossed on the metal, "rub, don't blot," apparently about hand-drying procedure.)
-Ice cream down by the canal
-The second-ever full-length performance of my underground hit sort-of-punk-rock song from twelfth grade, that describing-the-escapades-of-Melly-and-Bunny classic, "Heckling the Waves." (I still have to send the lyrics to Bethie. Anyone else want a copy? :-P)
Good times. And, as Mike would add, great oldies.
-Laurel
Newberys finished this weekend, both on Saturday, June 11th: The Wheel on the School (which was good in the same way Dobry was good, but that's hard to explain) and Secret of the Andes (which, though it took place in Peru, was really not the most exciting or clearly-written Newbery I've ever read).
Aneya, Bethie, and I have vague but excited plans to visit every Abbott's in the area. One down, seventeen non-Bill-Gray's branches to go (they don't count; we're being purists).
And now, a very special AIM moment, not because I was actually insulted, but because I burst out laughing:
Laurel: Greetings.
Albert: ACKKKK!!!!!
...Here's what I remember about last Wednesday, before Heather, when I was out with Aneya and Bethie:
-getting lost in the city
-getting to the theater, only to discover that the show had been cancelled
-promptly getting the heck out of the city and going down to the canal
-getting Chinese food and passing it around (and getting funny straws)
-Aneya's fortune being the best ruddy ever: "If you tempt a squirrel with a nut, be prepared to be bitten."
-Going into the IGA, initially to get our fifteen-cent refund from the night's soda cans. And sniffing like everything imaginable. Product-wise, not drug-wise, but I bet the other random shoppers wondered. (Quote: "We are so going to be somebody's blog entry for this: 'And there were these three really stupid girls...'")
-Abbott's, Part 1
-The only skeevy bar-and-grill in Spencerport (in fact, perhaps the only bar-and-grill in Spencerport, period), which we discovered on a bathroom search ('cause, seriously, what did you think we were in there for?). How do we know it was skeevy? Because it had a song playing with a chorus that began, quote, "I'll never smoke weed with women again." ...Really. All together now: "Huh?!" And slooooowly back away. Once you've washed your hands. (Also, the paper towel dispenser in there had, embossed on the metal, "rub, don't blot," apparently about hand-drying procedure.)
-Ice cream down by the canal
-The second-ever full-length performance of my underground hit sort-of-punk-rock song from twelfth grade, that describing-the-escapades-of-Melly-and-Bunny classic, "Heckling the Waves." (I still have to send the lyrics to Bethie. Anyone else want a copy? :-P)
Good times. And, as Mike would add, great oldies.
-Laurel
6.12.2005
210 miles
Ideas that you'll never find
Or the inventors could never design
The buildings that you put up
Japan and China, all lit up
The sign that I couldn't read
Or the light that I couldn't see
Some things you have to believe
But others are puzzles, puzzling me...
-"Speed of Sound," Coldplay
I listened to "Speed of Sound" somewhere around 16 times today, no kidding. And I bet it would have been more if my car's CD player had a repeat function, which it doesn't; in fixation I kept hitting the button back. The lyrics don't fit today all that well, but the music itself does, that piano part especially.
What can I say about today? I left at 9:05 so I could get the ONE bracelets from 'Nanda; Meryl had made a glass box, incredibly pretty, for us in APO to put things in for Heather. Because it was her hope and service that had so impressed me toward the end that I hadn't known was coming, I took one LiveStrong bracelet (formerly mine, but the bigger one, which I don't wear) and the ONE bracelet that Heather had wanted from the ones 'Nanda ordered and decided to make that my token. Plus, Chris and Kelly had ordered them, too, and I could take them theirs.
This made me a little later leaving than I had wanted. When I noticed myself flying down the street at 10 mph above the legal limit (okay, for me this is flying; me doing five over usually means I've got somebody on my tail or I'm in a hurry), I figured I'd better set my cruise at the proper velocity as soon as I got on the expressway, or I'd be in trouble fast.
This I did, but despite my best efforts to take my time, I got into the area just after 10:30. The services didn't start 'til twelve, and I knew I couldn't hang around for an hour-plus, so I went towards school, since that had the first coffee shop I could think of. I went in there and got what I believe is the first vanilla chai to go that I've ever managed not to spill anywhere. I considered continuing to the McFaddens', where Tim and Tom were, but with the services commencing in 90 minutes' time, and the funeral parlor now being over 20 minutes away, I didn't want to get there just before everyone left for the calling hours. So I went to find the funeral parlor.
I had to turn around a couple of times to get the parking space I wanted, then straighten out the car, then brush my hair, and who knows what, but finally I was ready to enter. It seemed awfully quiet. I got to the door and the guy running the place (is he an undertaker, or what?) opened it.
"No one's here yet," he said. This, while it was what I hoped wasn't true, didn't entirely surprise me. "Do the services start at noon," I asked, giving the question that had begun poking at the back of my brain a while back, "or the calling hours?"
"Calling hours," he replied. ...This explained why the parking lot had been empty. Since I'd parked on the street, that hadn't so much as registered mentally as a warning sign; I'd read the sign and thought nothing of it.
It was something like 11:20 or 11:30. Asked him for a phone book; called the McFaddens'. I got the answering machine. Concluding that they were on their way anyway, I decided to stay. (Note: they weren't. If I'd started leaving a message, they would have picked up. Ah, well.) There was plenty to look at; calling hours had been last night as well, and the photos were all set up on boards. I took my time, looking at everything, slowly finishing my chai. But finally I'd seen pretty much everything in the outer room that there was to see, and I wandered inside.
Heather, of course, was there. I read the tags on all the donated flowers, then looked at her and what was there with her. Photos, a few, and pink flowers in her hands. A couple of rings on her fingers.
Still nobody, really. I wandered back out into the foyer-type area. A girl came in, apparently from Heather's high school. When it got to be about seven minutes before noon, more people came in, high school friends and aunts. The aunts placed a teddy bear by Heather, fussing a little as to where it should go. I read the signature log out in the foyer. So Tim and Tom had been here last night. So had Kelly. But they had been the only ones from APO. A lot of high school friends had already come and signed.
The first from APO to show up was not one of the twins, but Allison. Though looking at the pictures had made me blink a little, and even looking at Heather hadn't fazed me, it was Allison that actually made me cry. Last night Evan, Chris, and Meryl came to stay with Lydia and drive up together, and I went bowling with them, but that had been very casual, very lighthearted. Allison walked in and we both...how do you describe crying without making it seem melodramatic, or using all the preset terms? I don't know. So we cried a little. It was a little worse for me when Allison said that she'd only found out yesterday, via the e-mail. I'd thought of calling her before, but hadn't found a number; did this mean that the other brothers no one had yet heard from in voice or typing--Kim, Yakov, Keith, Tara, and Tim W.--might not know yet? Allison had been in town and still nearly missed the funeral; who else should have been there that might have missed the message? But what could we have done? It was so hard to think of everybody.
One by one everyone came who was coming. Luanne came, as I'd been fairly certain she would, but she was the only professor I saw (outside of the McFaddens, who mostly count, since they each teach one two-credit course once in a while), which surprised me, though the whole performing arts department had sent flowers. None of the rest of Luanne's family came, either, though Heather had done so much babysitting for her and maybe Leah could have come. I think they may have been getting ready to go to Alaska, though. I heard tale that Luanne was flying to meet them once they were already there--between Dr. Walker and Heather, I shouldn't wonder if she'd stayed behind for funerals and other things.
Over half the active brotherhood came for it. Mike and Meryl, neither of whom will be back in the fall, came; Lydia, Dave, Evan, Chris, the twins, Ada, Jamie, Kelly, and of course Allison were there. Matt and Laurie were the only alumni there, that I can think of. As for non-APO, there were Jenny, Theresa and Bryan-from-choir; I can't think of anybody else from school that I recognized.
Except Adam, Heather's ex-boyfriend. I have the most sympathy for Heather's family, but about as much as that I have for Adam. From what I can tell, he took about one look at her and broke down. ...The family's been really kind to him. He was among the very first to know, and he got to sit with the family.
Heather was phobic about red flowers, if I didn't mention that in the last entry, so everything was in yellows and whites and most of all pink, her favorite color. It looked so pretty. So did Heather, but she was much prettier living.
The funeral itself seemed short. During the time when anyone could say things, four of the APO brothers did an abbreviated version of the grievance ritual, the only one of ours open to the public. They got the last few seats in the main room itself. Most of the others thronged in the entryway between that room and the connected one farther back that I was in. Lydia and Dave and I sat far-ish back, the former two on a couch, me next to the twins' mother, who was next to the McFaddens. I could see okay. I could hear less well. But I caught most things. I got to figure out which one was Heather's sister; she read something that Heather had written about life, probably back when she had cancer.
(The photos on the boards, by the way, were split about 50-50 between home and high school; neither one of her colleges made the boards. One of the aunts said something that made it sound like her personal picture board at home hadn't been touched, so nothing on them was here. That made sense.)
The funeral seemed short, and when it was over, I went to go see where Heather was one last time, touching her hand briefly. Nobody else that I saw touched her at all. Evan and Matt had had trouble even looking. But tomorrow is her burial, and after that last moment, I knew I wouldn't see her again. So I went again. They did, too.
A girl came up to me after that, really friendly face and voice, and asked if I'd been in choir with Heather. She was a friend from the school across the street, and we talked for a little. Her name was Nikki, and I wish I'd gotten to hear a little more from her, and I might, since I think she also transferred to our side of town.
I ended up driving the twins and their mother to the VFW for the lunch afterwards. That was fun, but there isn't much to say about it. Then we went back to the McFaddens' and watched the DVD of pictures (set to music) that Kelly had put together. We hung out at the McFaddens' awhile, me playing parasite (or at least symbiote) in a cling to Tim (I'm so unwilling now to use the term death grip, or anything that sounds like that), suddenly uneasy at the idea of driving home by myself. Everybody left eventually, and I had just about the longest-feeling drive home ever.
Home to 'Nanda's to school (coffee shop): about 85 miles. Coffee shop to funeral parlor, with turning around: I don't know, maybe 20 miles. Funeral parlor to VFW and back again (so the twins and their mother could get their van before we went to the McFaddens'): I don't know, maybe 5 miles. Funeral parlor to McFaddens': about another 20 miles. McFaddens' to home: about 80 miles. I didn't check, but I probably drove about 210 miles today.
I didn't want to leave school, once I was there, even though I really like being home these days. And I didn't want everyone to leave. I switched into school-mode darn quickly, and leaving it hurt. ...Lydia and everyone, who're just the next part of town over, invited me out with them tonight. But I think I won't. I got home in no mood to do anything but write this entry, talk to the twins and Kristin, and get in bed. My mom had made hot dogs, and I ate one cold when Kristin called on the phone. It tasted good.
The official press release from school, as Kristin just informed me a bit ago, lists me as APO president. Oh gracious, that's just what I needed. ::can't help giggling:: Bad enough that I'm the Voice of Grief, since so much of the statement was copy-pasted from what I sent over the APO listserve, and Mark sent it to school to let them know that Heather was gone. They all tell me how nice the message was. But it isn't anything out of the ordinary. The writing was me praying to God that I could make it beautiful somehow, but I've come to think that what I was given instead was a beautiful subject about which to write. The adjectives you have to use in describing her are powerful ones. How can it sound any different from how I wrote it?
I'm left with a bunch of moments from Wednesday on, which seems longer ago than it was, but they're imprinted. I remember the way I shook when I was messaging Heather's screen name. I remember the way the first thing everyone typed back over AIM, or said on the phone (myself included), when they heard, was "what?" I can even remember the way Tom's sounded, when I listened to Tim tell him, and it still sounds just like when he says it at school, so flatly astounded that it sounds almost angry.
I've been left for several days with the memory of the last time I made her laugh, when on AIM I left her a message, I think Tuesday night, but maybe Monday instead. She'd left something up that said "waiting for the lightning to strike," as though it was herself that was waiting to be struck, and at the time I'd been like oh boy, but then something drew me back--honestly, I think I had a vague thought in the back of my mind that if she was suicidal over there, I was going to hate myself if I didn't leave a message. So I told her that I hoped that she didn't mean it to strike her: "I like Heather like I like my bagels: non-toasted," I added. And a few minutes later, I got back: HAHAHAHAHA, all in bold-faced type tinted pink (maybe not that color). And then we talked, and it was nice. She messaged quite a bit in the last couple of days, wanting to talk to people from school, and once wanting to worry with someone about her great-aunt, in the hospital, dying of cancer--maybe with only a few hours left to live, she'd said.
What happened to that aunt? I don't know. Oh, how could we know that every hug, every typed sentence was one closer to the last? It scares me still. What was my last hug, my last words, my last time seeing her? Of course her cheating on her sugar-free diet unnerved us, at least at first, and the seizures were still more worrying. But I remember telling Tim, last week or so, about her falling down the stairs (the account of it was in her LJ), and him being relieved to hear she was all right, her cut up and without insurance to begin with, no way to be treated. How could we have known that that was practice for the nightmare?
I almost couldn't believe that it would end there; what was the guarantee that I wouldn't wake up two days later and find Tom dead? Or that I wouldn't crash into a semi trying to get there, and put Tim out of his mind?
I didn't even come to one movie night, one dance--I wasn't as close a friend as Mike, as Evan. I can hardly process it--how dare I take this so badly, when Mike stood stoic, like John at Fernando's funeral, watching dry-faced as friends broke down? But I know I was closer than I thought. We nearly roomed together. There was APO, there was ACDA, there was the coffee shop that wretched, blessed rainy morning.
I'm okay, really. I'm not any worse about this than any of us are. Some of us are still crying and some of us aren't, but I've learned that that's a bad measuring stick to begin with. I doubt I'm alone in the voice I'm giving to these horrors.
I think practically everybody loses a good friend, before their time, eventually. I got through all my other 15-or-so years of schooling without that. This was when that ran out. So we lost someone particularly vibrant. That doesn't make us worse off than everyone else who's had this happen.
I have more I could say, but I've said so much already and really should stop here. You're all very good sports for reading and are not in any way expected to comment. Just...I know Heather's going to come up later. I know I'll still be thinking about her, long after I was supposed to stop thinking so much about her. The funeral is over and I wasn't a closest-friend; I shouldn't be crying as I type this. So the expectations go. But enough about expectations. This is for real. And it seems less believable now, instead of more, that she's really gone.
-Laurel
Or the inventors could never design
The buildings that you put up
Japan and China, all lit up
The sign that I couldn't read
Or the light that I couldn't see
Some things you have to believe
But others are puzzles, puzzling me...
-"Speed of Sound," Coldplay
I listened to "Speed of Sound" somewhere around 16 times today, no kidding. And I bet it would have been more if my car's CD player had a repeat function, which it doesn't; in fixation I kept hitting the button back. The lyrics don't fit today all that well, but the music itself does, that piano part especially.
What can I say about today? I left at 9:05 so I could get the ONE bracelets from 'Nanda; Meryl had made a glass box, incredibly pretty, for us in APO to put things in for Heather. Because it was her hope and service that had so impressed me toward the end that I hadn't known was coming, I took one LiveStrong bracelet (formerly mine, but the bigger one, which I don't wear) and the ONE bracelet that Heather had wanted from the ones 'Nanda ordered and decided to make that my token. Plus, Chris and Kelly had ordered them, too, and I could take them theirs.
This made me a little later leaving than I had wanted. When I noticed myself flying down the street at 10 mph above the legal limit (okay, for me this is flying; me doing five over usually means I've got somebody on my tail or I'm in a hurry), I figured I'd better set my cruise at the proper velocity as soon as I got on the expressway, or I'd be in trouble fast.
This I did, but despite my best efforts to take my time, I got into the area just after 10:30. The services didn't start 'til twelve, and I knew I couldn't hang around for an hour-plus, so I went towards school, since that had the first coffee shop I could think of. I went in there and got what I believe is the first vanilla chai to go that I've ever managed not to spill anywhere. I considered continuing to the McFaddens', where Tim and Tom were, but with the services commencing in 90 minutes' time, and the funeral parlor now being over 20 minutes away, I didn't want to get there just before everyone left for the calling hours. So I went to find the funeral parlor.
I had to turn around a couple of times to get the parking space I wanted, then straighten out the car, then brush my hair, and who knows what, but finally I was ready to enter. It seemed awfully quiet. I got to the door and the guy running the place (is he an undertaker, or what?) opened it.
"No one's here yet," he said. This, while it was what I hoped wasn't true, didn't entirely surprise me. "Do the services start at noon," I asked, giving the question that had begun poking at the back of my brain a while back, "or the calling hours?"
"Calling hours," he replied. ...This explained why the parking lot had been empty. Since I'd parked on the street, that hadn't so much as registered mentally as a warning sign; I'd read the sign and thought nothing of it.
It was something like 11:20 or 11:30. Asked him for a phone book; called the McFaddens'. I got the answering machine. Concluding that they were on their way anyway, I decided to stay. (Note: they weren't. If I'd started leaving a message, they would have picked up. Ah, well.) There was plenty to look at; calling hours had been last night as well, and the photos were all set up on boards. I took my time, looking at everything, slowly finishing my chai. But finally I'd seen pretty much everything in the outer room that there was to see, and I wandered inside.
Heather, of course, was there. I read the tags on all the donated flowers, then looked at her and what was there with her. Photos, a few, and pink flowers in her hands. A couple of rings on her fingers.
Still nobody, really. I wandered back out into the foyer-type area. A girl came in, apparently from Heather's high school. When it got to be about seven minutes before noon, more people came in, high school friends and aunts. The aunts placed a teddy bear by Heather, fussing a little as to where it should go. I read the signature log out in the foyer. So Tim and Tom had been here last night. So had Kelly. But they had been the only ones from APO. A lot of high school friends had already come and signed.
The first from APO to show up was not one of the twins, but Allison. Though looking at the pictures had made me blink a little, and even looking at Heather hadn't fazed me, it was Allison that actually made me cry. Last night Evan, Chris, and Meryl came to stay with Lydia and drive up together, and I went bowling with them, but that had been very casual, very lighthearted. Allison walked in and we both...how do you describe crying without making it seem melodramatic, or using all the preset terms? I don't know. So we cried a little. It was a little worse for me when Allison said that she'd only found out yesterday, via the e-mail. I'd thought of calling her before, but hadn't found a number; did this mean that the other brothers no one had yet heard from in voice or typing--Kim, Yakov, Keith, Tara, and Tim W.--might not know yet? Allison had been in town and still nearly missed the funeral; who else should have been there that might have missed the message? But what could we have done? It was so hard to think of everybody.
One by one everyone came who was coming. Luanne came, as I'd been fairly certain she would, but she was the only professor I saw (outside of the McFaddens, who mostly count, since they each teach one two-credit course once in a while), which surprised me, though the whole performing arts department had sent flowers. None of the rest of Luanne's family came, either, though Heather had done so much babysitting for her and maybe Leah could have come. I think they may have been getting ready to go to Alaska, though. I heard tale that Luanne was flying to meet them once they were already there--between Dr. Walker and Heather, I shouldn't wonder if she'd stayed behind for funerals and other things.
Over half the active brotherhood came for it. Mike and Meryl, neither of whom will be back in the fall, came; Lydia, Dave, Evan, Chris, the twins, Ada, Jamie, Kelly, and of course Allison were there. Matt and Laurie were the only alumni there, that I can think of. As for non-APO, there were Jenny, Theresa and Bryan-from-choir; I can't think of anybody else from school that I recognized.
Except Adam, Heather's ex-boyfriend. I have the most sympathy for Heather's family, but about as much as that I have for Adam. From what I can tell, he took about one look at her and broke down. ...The family's been really kind to him. He was among the very first to know, and he got to sit with the family.
Heather was phobic about red flowers, if I didn't mention that in the last entry, so everything was in yellows and whites and most of all pink, her favorite color. It looked so pretty. So did Heather, but she was much prettier living.
The funeral itself seemed short. During the time when anyone could say things, four of the APO brothers did an abbreviated version of the grievance ritual, the only one of ours open to the public. They got the last few seats in the main room itself. Most of the others thronged in the entryway between that room and the connected one farther back that I was in. Lydia and Dave and I sat far-ish back, the former two on a couch, me next to the twins' mother, who was next to the McFaddens. I could see okay. I could hear less well. But I caught most things. I got to figure out which one was Heather's sister; she read something that Heather had written about life, probably back when she had cancer.
(The photos on the boards, by the way, were split about 50-50 between home and high school; neither one of her colleges made the boards. One of the aunts said something that made it sound like her personal picture board at home hadn't been touched, so nothing on them was here. That made sense.)
The funeral seemed short, and when it was over, I went to go see where Heather was one last time, touching her hand briefly. Nobody else that I saw touched her at all. Evan and Matt had had trouble even looking. But tomorrow is her burial, and after that last moment, I knew I wouldn't see her again. So I went again. They did, too.
A girl came up to me after that, really friendly face and voice, and asked if I'd been in choir with Heather. She was a friend from the school across the street, and we talked for a little. Her name was Nikki, and I wish I'd gotten to hear a little more from her, and I might, since I think she also transferred to our side of town.
I ended up driving the twins and their mother to the VFW for the lunch afterwards. That was fun, but there isn't much to say about it. Then we went back to the McFaddens' and watched the DVD of pictures (set to music) that Kelly had put together. We hung out at the McFaddens' awhile, me playing parasite (or at least symbiote) in a cling to Tim (I'm so unwilling now to use the term death grip, or anything that sounds like that), suddenly uneasy at the idea of driving home by myself. Everybody left eventually, and I had just about the longest-feeling drive home ever.
Home to 'Nanda's to school (coffee shop): about 85 miles. Coffee shop to funeral parlor, with turning around: I don't know, maybe 20 miles. Funeral parlor to VFW and back again (so the twins and their mother could get their van before we went to the McFaddens'): I don't know, maybe 5 miles. Funeral parlor to McFaddens': about another 20 miles. McFaddens' to home: about 80 miles. I didn't check, but I probably drove about 210 miles today.
I didn't want to leave school, once I was there, even though I really like being home these days. And I didn't want everyone to leave. I switched into school-mode darn quickly, and leaving it hurt. ...Lydia and everyone, who're just the next part of town over, invited me out with them tonight. But I think I won't. I got home in no mood to do anything but write this entry, talk to the twins and Kristin, and get in bed. My mom had made hot dogs, and I ate one cold when Kristin called on the phone. It tasted good.
The official press release from school, as Kristin just informed me a bit ago, lists me as APO president. Oh gracious, that's just what I needed. ::can't help giggling:: Bad enough that I'm the Voice of Grief, since so much of the statement was copy-pasted from what I sent over the APO listserve, and Mark sent it to school to let them know that Heather was gone. They all tell me how nice the message was. But it isn't anything out of the ordinary. The writing was me praying to God that I could make it beautiful somehow, but I've come to think that what I was given instead was a beautiful subject about which to write. The adjectives you have to use in describing her are powerful ones. How can it sound any different from how I wrote it?
I'm left with a bunch of moments from Wednesday on, which seems longer ago than it was, but they're imprinted. I remember the way I shook when I was messaging Heather's screen name. I remember the way the first thing everyone typed back over AIM, or said on the phone (myself included), when they heard, was "what?" I can even remember the way Tom's sounded, when I listened to Tim tell him, and it still sounds just like when he says it at school, so flatly astounded that it sounds almost angry.
I've been left for several days with the memory of the last time I made her laugh, when on AIM I left her a message, I think Tuesday night, but maybe Monday instead. She'd left something up that said "waiting for the lightning to strike," as though it was herself that was waiting to be struck, and at the time I'd been like oh boy, but then something drew me back--honestly, I think I had a vague thought in the back of my mind that if she was suicidal over there, I was going to hate myself if I didn't leave a message. So I told her that I hoped that she didn't mean it to strike her: "I like Heather like I like my bagels: non-toasted," I added. And a few minutes later, I got back: HAHAHAHAHA, all in bold-faced type tinted pink (maybe not that color). And then we talked, and it was nice. She messaged quite a bit in the last couple of days, wanting to talk to people from school, and once wanting to worry with someone about her great-aunt, in the hospital, dying of cancer--maybe with only a few hours left to live, she'd said.
What happened to that aunt? I don't know. Oh, how could we know that every hug, every typed sentence was one closer to the last? It scares me still. What was my last hug, my last words, my last time seeing her? Of course her cheating on her sugar-free diet unnerved us, at least at first, and the seizures were still more worrying. But I remember telling Tim, last week or so, about her falling down the stairs (the account of it was in her LJ), and him being relieved to hear she was all right, her cut up and without insurance to begin with, no way to be treated. How could we have known that that was practice for the nightmare?
I almost couldn't believe that it would end there; what was the guarantee that I wouldn't wake up two days later and find Tom dead? Or that I wouldn't crash into a semi trying to get there, and put Tim out of his mind?
I didn't even come to one movie night, one dance--I wasn't as close a friend as Mike, as Evan. I can hardly process it--how dare I take this so badly, when Mike stood stoic, like John at Fernando's funeral, watching dry-faced as friends broke down? But I know I was closer than I thought. We nearly roomed together. There was APO, there was ACDA, there was the coffee shop that wretched, blessed rainy morning.
I'm okay, really. I'm not any worse about this than any of us are. Some of us are still crying and some of us aren't, but I've learned that that's a bad measuring stick to begin with. I doubt I'm alone in the voice I'm giving to these horrors.
I think practically everybody loses a good friend, before their time, eventually. I got through all my other 15-or-so years of schooling without that. This was when that ran out. So we lost someone particularly vibrant. That doesn't make us worse off than everyone else who's had this happen.
I have more I could say, but I've said so much already and really should stop here. You're all very good sports for reading and are not in any way expected to comment. Just...I know Heather's going to come up later. I know I'll still be thinking about her, long after I was supposed to stop thinking so much about her. The funeral is over and I wasn't a closest-friend; I shouldn't be crying as I type this. So the expectations go. But enough about expectations. This is for real. And it seems less believable now, instead of more, that she's really gone.
-Laurel
6.09.2005
Lu ach beirachta lo chayim
It's not a mistake. Heather is dead.
I barely know where to begin, because there's so much to say. I knew Heather first from Chamber Singers, freshman year--she was a sophomore-senior across the street, and when we went to Peru, she and I are the ones that flew together to NYC, JetBlue-style, from my home (she didn't stay over; we met at the airport, 'cause she'd been staying with her boyfriend), and took that crazy taxi (no gaming pun intended, Lily Jo, ha) from JFK to LaGuardia. Once we hit Peru, we saw less of each other--she hung with her friends, I with mine--but we did talk some when we got back, and I got the link to her livejournal, which I've read pretty much ever since.
Those friends merged in the fall when she transferred to our side of the village and joined APO; she was a cervical cancer survivor (there's a lot of cancer in her family), and we'd won her heart with Vanessa's cancer benefit the year before. She fanagled her roommate (my first APO little), Kelly, into joining with us, and Yakov rounded out the little group. She and Kelly fell fast and hard for the whole APO idea, like I had last year, and Heather was easily the eagerest of them all, which never changed. Between that and choir, I saw her a lot, pretty much every day.
She's the one I almost roomed with; when I decided not to, she got into an apartment with other friends, and was really excited about it, and about the OGing she was going to be a part of this August. She was an elementary-ed major, and had just gotten a summer job at the Montessori school down the street one of the last times I talked to her, but I don't know if she ever had a first day there or not.
It's hard to describe her without making her sound too perfect or too imperfect. She had a hot temper. She got pretty moody sometimes. She was quite a pervert, though she was good about saving her best/worst material for those she knew would appreciate it.
But she was so sweet about helping others, and her randomness always kept us laughing. She got along really well with a lot of people. She loved senior citizens, which her mom helps take care of, and helped me not to be so creeped out in senior centers, even though the one her mom runs is undersupported and tries really hard in an almost pathetically sad way.
I can't say she loved everybody; she didn't. If she loved you, she tended to really love you, but the same went with her hatreds. Adam, the ex-boyfriend, took a lot of really bitter heat. Otto, whose teaching methods she disagreed with, took a lot of heat, though not in his hearing. That kind of thing. But she did, I think, lots more loving than hating in the end. She wanted to find true romance, however she defined it, but that never worked out, I guess.
My dominant reaction for a lot of last night and some of today has been guilt, because recently, though I never let her know, I haven't had a lot of patience with her. I mean, not just her, it's been parts of APO in general, and she wasn't even who I complained most about, not that that helps. But she's so outspoken, and there were plenty of times when I was frustrated, and I was also jealous because she was kind of seen as more of a VPS figure than I was sometimes, and I was afraid she'd end up taking the position I hold most dear. Petty little things. All the trouble she caused was worth it, to have her here.
I wasn't guilty because I'd intentionally been cruel, but because I hadn't really valued her as much as she deserved.
Today I got to thinking about the jokes and songs I used to send her over e-mail, though, 'cause I got them from my mom and Heather was always up for something cute or sassy or a little cliched. I'm starting to miss her now, more than anything. There're these things I'd planned to show her when we got back to school. DDR files, psych textbook chapters I knew she'd find fascinating. I wanted to talk service with her (as if I'd have a choice, ha!), and I wondered if we couldn't eventually fanagle her into folk dancing, just once, so she could laugh at it. There're online e-cards I've seen that I've thought, ooh, I should send this to Heather; I'll wait 'til her birthday. Like, she was often sad about things, but it was so easy to make her happy in little ways, even if I couldn't in big ways. So easy to make her laugh. And her humor was infectious; I still address frustrating situations in letter form, like she did. The part of this blog where I was basically like, "Dear French Postal Service: deliver Albert's package or else. Love, Laurel"--that's completely her, or at least that's where I heard it.
I heard of her death from John. Her IM name was still signed on and active, so I thought maybe it was either a horrible joke on someone's part or a horrible mistake. I was already shaking when I messaged, though, and when I got her sister instead, who's never on her online name, I was pretty sure it was true even before she confirmed it. I told my mom, and then I called Tim. I was listening when he told Tom.
I don't know, still, exactly how close a friend she was. All I know is, every half-hour I'd come up with someone else we could call (okay, Tim should call), who shouldn't have to wait for the e-mail. We couldn't get them all. I still don't know who on Rescue Squad knows. Do the apartment blondes? Does Allison?
I had a hard time concentrating at work, but I was glad to be there. Anything I can do where I'm helping someone, it feels good. And this is just me, and I wasn't always that good a friend, nor always that close. Evan, Matt, Mike, Allison, Meryl--good gracious, what must they think, when the loss I feel is bad enough?
I took Heather to the coffee shop in the village once when she was upset--probably the last nice thing I ever did for her--and we talked a lot, and I came out so impressed that day at how passionate she was about just about everything. All-loving isn't true. But always passionate--that's true. I never saw a lot of apathy out of her.
It's so complicated, her dying. So tragic, because I've been keeping up with her LJ and talking to her sometimes. I can't help concluding that she died unsatisfied, still looking for a way to be happy. I wish I'd tried harder to help.
Funeral is Sunday; I'll be out of town for most of the weekend, but should be able to get there for that, unless things go wrong with the family function. I get to see Lily Jo for that, though, and if all goes well, I'll see a lot of wonderful people on Sunday, and I'll get all the hugs I ever wanted, if perhaps not from all the people I'd like to give them to.
It doesn't seem real that someone with so much life should be dead, cut short in the middle of everything.
I really need to get to bed, though I'd like to stay on typing. More about the funeral sometime, certainly, if I get there, which I really really want to do. Probably not much more until then, and I probably won't be online much at Lily's house, either.
-Laurel
I barely know where to begin, because there's so much to say. I knew Heather first from Chamber Singers, freshman year--she was a sophomore-senior across the street, and when we went to Peru, she and I are the ones that flew together to NYC, JetBlue-style, from my home (she didn't stay over; we met at the airport, 'cause she'd been staying with her boyfriend), and took that crazy taxi (no gaming pun intended, Lily Jo, ha) from JFK to LaGuardia. Once we hit Peru, we saw less of each other--she hung with her friends, I with mine--but we did talk some when we got back, and I got the link to her livejournal, which I've read pretty much ever since.
Those friends merged in the fall when she transferred to our side of the village and joined APO; she was a cervical cancer survivor (there's a lot of cancer in her family), and we'd won her heart with Vanessa's cancer benefit the year before. She fanagled her roommate (my first APO little), Kelly, into joining with us, and Yakov rounded out the little group. She and Kelly fell fast and hard for the whole APO idea, like I had last year, and Heather was easily the eagerest of them all, which never changed. Between that and choir, I saw her a lot, pretty much every day.
She's the one I almost roomed with; when I decided not to, she got into an apartment with other friends, and was really excited about it, and about the OGing she was going to be a part of this August. She was an elementary-ed major, and had just gotten a summer job at the Montessori school down the street one of the last times I talked to her, but I don't know if she ever had a first day there or not.
It's hard to describe her without making her sound too perfect or too imperfect. She had a hot temper. She got pretty moody sometimes. She was quite a pervert, though she was good about saving her best/worst material for those she knew would appreciate it.
But she was so sweet about helping others, and her randomness always kept us laughing. She got along really well with a lot of people. She loved senior citizens, which her mom helps take care of, and helped me not to be so creeped out in senior centers, even though the one her mom runs is undersupported and tries really hard in an almost pathetically sad way.
I can't say she loved everybody; she didn't. If she loved you, she tended to really love you, but the same went with her hatreds. Adam, the ex-boyfriend, took a lot of really bitter heat. Otto, whose teaching methods she disagreed with, took a lot of heat, though not in his hearing. That kind of thing. But she did, I think, lots more loving than hating in the end. She wanted to find true romance, however she defined it, but that never worked out, I guess.
My dominant reaction for a lot of last night and some of today has been guilt, because recently, though I never let her know, I haven't had a lot of patience with her. I mean, not just her, it's been parts of APO in general, and she wasn't even who I complained most about, not that that helps. But she's so outspoken, and there were plenty of times when I was frustrated, and I was also jealous because she was kind of seen as more of a VPS figure than I was sometimes, and I was afraid she'd end up taking the position I hold most dear. Petty little things. All the trouble she caused was worth it, to have her here.
I wasn't guilty because I'd intentionally been cruel, but because I hadn't really valued her as much as she deserved.
Today I got to thinking about the jokes and songs I used to send her over e-mail, though, 'cause I got them from my mom and Heather was always up for something cute or sassy or a little cliched. I'm starting to miss her now, more than anything. There're these things I'd planned to show her when we got back to school. DDR files, psych textbook chapters I knew she'd find fascinating. I wanted to talk service with her (as if I'd have a choice, ha!), and I wondered if we couldn't eventually fanagle her into folk dancing, just once, so she could laugh at it. There're online e-cards I've seen that I've thought, ooh, I should send this to Heather; I'll wait 'til her birthday. Like, she was often sad about things, but it was so easy to make her happy in little ways, even if I couldn't in big ways. So easy to make her laugh. And her humor was infectious; I still address frustrating situations in letter form, like she did. The part of this blog where I was basically like, "Dear French Postal Service: deliver Albert's package or else. Love, Laurel"--that's completely her, or at least that's where I heard it.
I heard of her death from John. Her IM name was still signed on and active, so I thought maybe it was either a horrible joke on someone's part or a horrible mistake. I was already shaking when I messaged, though, and when I got her sister instead, who's never on her online name, I was pretty sure it was true even before she confirmed it. I told my mom, and then I called Tim. I was listening when he told Tom.
I don't know, still, exactly how close a friend she was. All I know is, every half-hour I'd come up with someone else we could call (okay, Tim should call), who shouldn't have to wait for the e-mail. We couldn't get them all. I still don't know who on Rescue Squad knows. Do the apartment blondes? Does Allison?
I had a hard time concentrating at work, but I was glad to be there. Anything I can do where I'm helping someone, it feels good. And this is just me, and I wasn't always that good a friend, nor always that close. Evan, Matt, Mike, Allison, Meryl--good gracious, what must they think, when the loss I feel is bad enough?
I took Heather to the coffee shop in the village once when she was upset--probably the last nice thing I ever did for her--and we talked a lot, and I came out so impressed that day at how passionate she was about just about everything. All-loving isn't true. But always passionate--that's true. I never saw a lot of apathy out of her.
It's so complicated, her dying. So tragic, because I've been keeping up with her LJ and talking to her sometimes. I can't help concluding that she died unsatisfied, still looking for a way to be happy. I wish I'd tried harder to help.
Funeral is Sunday; I'll be out of town for most of the weekend, but should be able to get there for that, unless things go wrong with the family function. I get to see Lily Jo for that, though, and if all goes well, I'll see a lot of wonderful people on Sunday, and I'll get all the hugs I ever wanted, if perhaps not from all the people I'd like to give them to.
It doesn't seem real that someone with so much life should be dead, cut short in the middle of everything.
I really need to get to bed, though I'd like to stay on typing. More about the funeral sometime, certainly, if I get there, which I really really want to do. Probably not much more until then, and I probably won't be online much at Lily's house, either.
-Laurel
Heather
Aneya and Bethie: we'll be my blog entry sometime soon. First I have to say that Heather, from APO and choir, died today [technically yesterday] of an apparent heart attack. Maybe it was rooted in diabetic complications; I don't know. I found out when I got back home from tonight's night out with the two of you.
There's so much I want to say, but my dad wants me in bed, and anyway my head is throbbing. More later.
-Laurel
There's so much I want to say, but my dad wants me in bed, and anyway my head is throbbing. More later.
-Laurel
6.08.2005
In the immortal words of Tim, "grog..."
Here is how I'm going to keep my stress down for the rest of today. Ready, ready?
-I'm going to start cleaning my room, which will up my stress for a short while and then lower it again.
-I'm going to (outside of direct parental command) refuse to drive my brother anywhere until he learns some basic respect for me as a driver. I would say "as a person," but judging by the twins, that's never going to happen.
Thank you.
-Laurel
-I'm going to start cleaning my room, which will up my stress for a short while and then lower it again.
-I'm going to (outside of direct parental command) refuse to drive my brother anywhere until he learns some basic respect for me as a driver. I would say "as a person," but judging by the twins, that's never going to happen.
Thank you.
-Laurel
6.07.2005
See, I was hoping to be quick about typing this, but I see now that I wasn't.
No more linked-finger dreams, hurrah.
Went up to school today with 'Nanda, once I was done working. Hung out in SFE. Saw B. Things all right, though not as cool as when we were there. Saw Caspersson, which rocks, and Mrs. Fleming and Mr. Casey, which were also cool.
Turns out that Glenn's mother has been putting in almost 80 hours a week at school, where she works. He didn't tell me this; we talked pretty much all evening over AIM, and I did the calculations myself from what he said.
This's been going on for the better part of the year, it turns out, them being there from 7:30ish in the morning straight to 11 at night. I've been talking to him since the band concert (two weeks ago?). He's been saying over and over how lonely he's getting, which I've never heard him say, ever, because he used to go on and on about people and making friends of everybody and all sorts of things. Where has Ben gone, where have his other friends gone? He doesn't say; he's warm about them but makes it sound like they're all so busy that nothing happens with them. Besides, as I discovered tonight when I tried to "rescue" him (being the one with the license) and take him down the street to the coffeehouse, his mother's concern is his homework, not his social life, so he also can't go to some of these things. (He's on high honor roll, and accepted into RPI, goodness...)
His life was strange long before I entered it, but this's the first I've seen him not be one big philosophic shrug about it. Dang, but I'm glad I didn't know that while I was at school. It drives me crazy enough here at home, as I try to reconcile my desire not to look like a stalker-ex (because, well, I'm not), not to mention my desire to pay at least equal attention to the boyfriend I do have, with my growing desire to find random excuses to come to school every alternate night, with a Chrononauts deck in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. ::sighs:: I guess I'm a sucker for projects to make friends happy.
I know he's graduating soon and this will change. (But for the better? He likes school better than home.) And it's not like I'm in total freakout mode over here; I've done a lot better with this than a lot of things, partly because in this case it's so easy, at least in theory, to brighten his life: all he wants is to see a friend once in a while. (I'd personally like to also see him get something substantial to count as "dinner" prior to 11 PM every night, considering that he has lunch around noon, but this bothers him a lot less than it bothers me, and you'll notice he isn't taking any steps to fix that.)
I'm so tired. It really is bedtime.
-Laurel
Went up to school today with 'Nanda, once I was done working. Hung out in SFE. Saw B. Things all right, though not as cool as when we were there. Saw Caspersson, which rocks, and Mrs. Fleming and Mr. Casey, which were also cool.
Turns out that Glenn's mother has been putting in almost 80 hours a week at school, where she works. He didn't tell me this; we talked pretty much all evening over AIM, and I did the calculations myself from what he said.
This's been going on for the better part of the year, it turns out, them being there from 7:30ish in the morning straight to 11 at night. I've been talking to him since the band concert (two weeks ago?). He's been saying over and over how lonely he's getting, which I've never heard him say, ever, because he used to go on and on about people and making friends of everybody and all sorts of things. Where has Ben gone, where have his other friends gone? He doesn't say; he's warm about them but makes it sound like they're all so busy that nothing happens with them. Besides, as I discovered tonight when I tried to "rescue" him (being the one with the license) and take him down the street to the coffeehouse, his mother's concern is his homework, not his social life, so he also can't go to some of these things. (He's on high honor roll, and accepted into RPI, goodness...)
His life was strange long before I entered it, but this's the first I've seen him not be one big philosophic shrug about it. Dang, but I'm glad I didn't know that while I was at school. It drives me crazy enough here at home, as I try to reconcile my desire not to look like a stalker-ex (because, well, I'm not), not to mention my desire to pay at least equal attention to the boyfriend I do have, with my growing desire to find random excuses to come to school every alternate night, with a Chrononauts deck in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. ::sighs:: I guess I'm a sucker for projects to make friends happy.
I know he's graduating soon and this will change. (But for the better? He likes school better than home.) And it's not like I'm in total freakout mode over here; I've done a lot better with this than a lot of things, partly because in this case it's so easy, at least in theory, to brighten his life: all he wants is to see a friend once in a while. (I'd personally like to also see him get something substantial to count as "dinner" prior to 11 PM every night, considering that he has lunch around noon, but this bothers him a lot less than it bothers me, and you'll notice he isn't taking any steps to fix that.)
I'm so tired. It really is bedtime.
-Laurel
6.06.2005
Haha, throwback to Basic Linguistics!
Awesome quote, first posted on another blog that I read (note: Chris Berman is an ESPN sportscaster who tends to nickname baseball and football players he's talking about--for example, Tyrone "Cream of" Wheatley; Curtis "My Favorite" Martin):
"I think Chris Berman may have competition. Mike Florio of profootballtalk.com has nicknamed new Vikings owner Zygmunt Wilf 'Triple Word Score.' I mean, that's the best nickname for anyone in football, ever."
-Peter King, from SI.com's Monday Morning Quarterback
...It's hard to argue with that one. I've never heard a better NFL nickname myself. But then, I haven't watched NFL Primetime much since college began, even though I watched it for about the four straight years prior...
Tonight's goal: To not have a dream that ends with me trying to pry my linked fingers apart, only to wake up when I succeed and realize that I've been REMing, and therefore my fingers basically were locked in place as I slept, since REM only lets you move your eyes. Yeah, I woke up at 5:20 in the morning, and it took me until about 6:40 to get back to sleep, and I got up again at 7:15. And I still have whatever semi-allergy this is (bad in the morning, okay by afternoon, best by night). So I don't want to hear it. :-P
-Laurel
"I think Chris Berman may have competition. Mike Florio of profootballtalk.com has nicknamed new Vikings owner Zygmunt Wilf 'Triple Word Score.' I mean, that's the best nickname for anyone in football, ever."
-Peter King, from SI.com's Monday Morning Quarterback
...It's hard to argue with that one. I've never heard a better NFL nickname myself. But then, I haven't watched NFL Primetime much since college began, even though I watched it for about the four straight years prior...
Tonight's goal: To not have a dream that ends with me trying to pry my linked fingers apart, only to wake up when I succeed and realize that I've been REMing, and therefore my fingers basically were locked in place as I slept, since REM only lets you move your eyes. Yeah, I woke up at 5:20 in the morning, and it took me until about 6:40 to get back to sleep, and I got up again at 7:15. And I still have whatever semi-allergy this is (bad in the morning, okay by afternoon, best by night). So I don't want to hear it. :-P
-Laurel
6.05.2005
::with a sneeze::
I may just be developing allergies. Either that or I've had a weird cold for a week.
So okay, here's a synopsis of everything I've done since my last entry:
-Found another local library because the one I'm a little closer to closes at 5 pm on Fridays now(?!)
-Got a couple of the major boxes out of my room and tore things apart looking for my book of stamps, 'cause Mom needed some (three weeks home from college and you'd think I'd be a little closer to organized, but no, absolutely not)
-Looked at some oldish photos, including ones from when I was in, like, first grade
-Drove all by myself(!) into the city, to W&B, virtually flawlessly(!), for the nine o'clock training
-Arrived at about 9 on the dot and entered, only to discover that there'd been another e-mail (which I hadn't gotten, and neither had the other college intern, whose name is Halle), stating that the training wasn't until 9:30, and now it ended three hours earlier than expected. So I'd spent all that time getting a lunch together for myself, and arrived without a pen and paper, which's what I was apparently expected to bring
-Made a crashing bore of myself during the introduction phase, but pretty much shut up for the rest of the time, so stayed mostly out of trouble
-Got home without any trouble, either
-Went with my family down to see my dad's biological side, since my now-Texan cousin Tara had come up to help Aunt Mary and Uncle Bill, her parents. See, they own the building that they and some of my dad's brothers worked in for most of their adult lives, and earlier this week part of it collapsed, which was altogether uncool, but nobody was in there at the time, which was
-Went with family, one uncle, and uncle's girlfriend to one of the best Mexican restaurants I've ever been in, and had literally the best quesadillas (and possibly the best tortilla-chip salsa) I've ever tasted
-Went to a bonfire at Uncle Dennis's, once Tara got done toasting marshmallows over Aunt Mary's electric stove (I've never seen it done before, but they come out beautifully, it turns out)
-Sang songs with brother and mother all the way home, even though it was like midnight. We're not talking "Old McDonald" here, but more like cheesy, overdone imitations of every rock group (especially Southern rock) that we could think of
-Crashed somewhere past 1 am, woke up at eight-something
Today: church, eventually chicken BBQ, then who-knows-what.
-Laurel
So okay, here's a synopsis of everything I've done since my last entry:
-Found another local library because the one I'm a little closer to closes at 5 pm on Fridays now(?!)
-Got a couple of the major boxes out of my room and tore things apart looking for my book of stamps, 'cause Mom needed some (three weeks home from college and you'd think I'd be a little closer to organized, but no, absolutely not)
-Looked at some oldish photos, including ones from when I was in, like, first grade
-Drove all by myself(!) into the city, to W&B, virtually flawlessly(!), for the nine o'clock training
-Arrived at about 9 on the dot and entered, only to discover that there'd been another e-mail (which I hadn't gotten, and neither had the other college intern, whose name is Halle), stating that the training wasn't until 9:30, and now it ended three hours earlier than expected. So I'd spent all that time getting a lunch together for myself, and arrived without a pen and paper, which's what I was apparently expected to bring
-Made a crashing bore of myself during the introduction phase, but pretty much shut up for the rest of the time, so stayed mostly out of trouble
-Got home without any trouble, either
-Went with my family down to see my dad's biological side, since my now-Texan cousin Tara had come up to help Aunt Mary and Uncle Bill, her parents. See, they own the building that they and some of my dad's brothers worked in for most of their adult lives, and earlier this week part of it collapsed, which was altogether uncool, but nobody was in there at the time, which was
-Went with family, one uncle, and uncle's girlfriend to one of the best Mexican restaurants I've ever been in, and had literally the best quesadillas (and possibly the best tortilla-chip salsa) I've ever tasted
-Went to a bonfire at Uncle Dennis's, once Tara got done toasting marshmallows over Aunt Mary's electric stove (I've never seen it done before, but they come out beautifully, it turns out)
-Sang songs with brother and mother all the way home, even though it was like midnight. We're not talking "Old McDonald" here, but more like cheesy, overdone imitations of every rock group (especially Southern rock) that we could think of
-Crashed somewhere past 1 am, woke up at eight-something
Today: church, eventually chicken BBQ, then who-knows-what.
-Laurel
6.03.2005
Newbery alert
Still no luck getting onto the school FTP to change my webpage, so here's more reference.
Finished:
Caddie Woodlawn, May 28th
Hitty: Her First Hundred Years, June 1st (or so I think...)
Thimble Summer, June 3rd
And those, plus all the other books I've talked about on this blog for the past two-and-a-half weeks, make up everything I took out of the library, so now that they're done, I guess I'd better go get some more.
-Laurel
Finished:
Caddie Woodlawn, May 28th
Hitty: Her First Hundred Years, June 1st (or so I think...)
Thimble Summer, June 3rd
And those, plus all the other books I've talked about on this blog for the past two-and-a-half weeks, make up everything I took out of the library, so now that they're done, I guess I'd better go get some more.
-Laurel
6.02.2005
Opa!
Change of plans: Aneya was sick :( , so instead I went with my family downtown to the Greek Festival.
I watched traditional folk dancing for like an hour in total, even though I didn't get to do any. It was really cool.
I'm really tired, so maybe I'll go into detail another time, or maybe I'll just e-mail Tom and Albert and maybe Zinni, all of whom actually care. :-P
-Laurel
I watched traditional folk dancing for like an hour in total, even though I didn't get to do any. It was really cool.
I'm really tired, so maybe I'll go into detail another time, or maybe I'll just e-mail Tom and Albert and maybe Zinni, all of whom actually care. :-P
-Laurel
6.01.2005
"Did you end up in the invisible turning lane, too?!"
Great Northern Gathering, June '05: simply amazing. This's the first time we've talked until the place closed, heh. (And then some of us talked even longer, out in the parking lot.) The invisible turning lane: I don't want to hear it. That was a left-only before the construction. :-P
(Seriously, it must be by divine will that I have never once been hit, because goodness knows I've richly deserved it in my nearly-two years of driving. Do not ask me to give examples. Just believe me, one of them is really blatantly awful, and the others are total moments of duh.)
However, today I did get myself to work even though they closed the road I'm supposed to take and never put up any detour. My dad did it once last year and I remembered it, and when I got to work, I told my mom which way I would have gone if I hadn't known to go that way, which she never expected me to think of, and she was all kinds of impressed. So I'm no longer directionally-hopeless, at least not on a local level.
But my arm muscle hurts, and I need to go to bed, so I think I'll do that now.
Tomorrow night, unexpectedly: show downtown with Aneya and Bethie. Yay!
Sunday: Chicken BBQ up at school. See, if I could just find Bryan there, like Ananda did that one year, my rediscovering old friends would be complete, now that I've contacted all the major old-elementary kids. But unless his little sister's in the band, or Erica (family friend of theirs) is enough to draw him, it's pretty darn unlikely. So I'll content myself with what friends I can find, since they're pretty awesome. Tonight was a blast. Let's do it again, like next month or something.
It is going to be such a blast to have Matt and Kathy at college with me, too. :)
-Laurel
(Seriously, it must be by divine will that I have never once been hit, because goodness knows I've richly deserved it in my nearly-two years of driving. Do not ask me to give examples. Just believe me, one of them is really blatantly awful, and the others are total moments of duh.)
However, today I did get myself to work even though they closed the road I'm supposed to take and never put up any detour. My dad did it once last year and I remembered it, and when I got to work, I told my mom which way I would have gone if I hadn't known to go that way, which she never expected me to think of, and she was all kinds of impressed. So I'm no longer directionally-hopeless, at least not on a local level.
But my arm muscle hurts, and I need to go to bed, so I think I'll do that now.
Tomorrow night, unexpectedly: show downtown with Aneya and Bethie. Yay!
Sunday: Chicken BBQ up at school. See, if I could just find Bryan there, like Ananda did that one year, my rediscovering old friends would be complete, now that I've contacted all the major old-elementary kids. But unless his little sister's in the band, or Erica (family friend of theirs) is enough to draw him, it's pretty darn unlikely. So I'll content myself with what friends I can find, since they're pretty awesome. Tonight was a blast. Let's do it again, like next month or something.
It is going to be such a blast to have Matt and Kathy at college with me, too. :)
-Laurel