Further Locker-Room Remembrances:

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to not look at a person that you are trying to have a conversation with? You are at a sleepover, getting ready to crash on the sofa for popcorn and a chick flick starring some hot eye-candy, and your friend gives you a “Don’t look; I am about to change!” warning that you hear and confirm. The comfy-cozy pants are coming on!

Ten seconds later, your friend starts up a sentence about how hot Ashton Kutcher’s tush is on a scale of one to ten (the answer is eleven, in case your curious mind got sidetracked there…) but is forced to finish with a: “ Awwh! I told you not to look!!!”

You turn full-swing circles, round and round, trying awkwardly to figure out why you forgot so quickly and where to bat the eyes to now. Your mouth mumbles a million embarrassed and confused apologies.


Oh, humans. We never change.

The Pleasant Locker-Room Atmosphere:

It always amazes me how fast women get naked in the locker room.

Two seconds out of the pool and BAM! Boobs everywhere. Now, granted, the old argument that we all know what breasts look like because we all have them: We all have boobs. But really…where did that ridiculous justification even come from? No two people look the same. No two boobs on one woman even look the same, hardly! I’m still getting used to my own anatomy, and it is very, very awkward to be in a room full of flaunting, naked, saggy, old bodies. How hard is it, really, to just put a towel over yourself as you change?

Because the only other person that needs to see that is your spouse.

Morning After A Migraine:

Because who needs to get wasted when you inherited chronic migraines?!

Alarm sounds.

7:58.

7:58 pm? or am? I look around. Relatively bright; seems like morning. Ok: what day is it? Sunday? Church? Monday classes? Tuesday classes? Am I late for something? How much did I sleep through? What happened? When did I fall asleep? Ok… think. What’s the last thing I remember doing..?

I laugh at the piles upon my floor—layers thrown down in the process of undressing (only a few made it off before collapsing into bed, jeans and all): A computer; folders; books; hair pieces; glasses; purses; gloves; scarves; who knows that else is buried under there!

Some people live like this (everyday!). I can’t wait to be done with whatever I have to do on whatever day it happens to be to sort through this mess and pick it up again.

My keys are not in the pile, of course. After much panicked, frantic searching, I find them still in the door lock where I left them whenever I collapsed the night, or nights, before. I send up a short blessing that my roommate is a trustworthy friend. So much a friend, in fact, that keys-in-door-lock sent him a familiar message of sickness in the house to be respectful of. He had complied.

My breath is rancid because I could not find my toothbrush in the rush to hit the sacred pillow the night preceding. Of course, even had I a brush in hand upon my stumble into the room, my body would not have allowed me the basic decency of sticking a cleaning rod in my mouth to flush-out stinky germs. The stomach is a selfish organ: things are done his way. Risk wasting too much time before closing those pained eyes and you’ll start to become faint and nauseas… and that is only the beginning, my friend.

Walking to class is a chore. One foot. Then the next. Close your eyes as you go; only opening them peeks to be sure you are still following the sidewalk to Minne.

Once in class, the lecture either takes five minutes, or five days. There is no normal, balanced feeling. This depends on my mind and its ability to be unfocused enough to survive.

A shut-eyed trot back to bed. Sleep, and repeat.

7:58.

7:58 pm? or am? What day is it?

whores and angels

still has an unhealthy hatred of men

The Baby

There are some perks to being the youngest child: Teaching your brother and sister, five years your senior, to facebook for the first time...what each application means...and when they sign up for text messaging, having them come to you for help figuring it out. The simplest things. As my dad would say: I'm a big fish in a little pond!

Lessons From The Night:

- Nearly a year later, one may still have an "Andy-Day";

- No, God isn't real enough to me: A band of boys came in late last night to the hotel harrassing me and I prayed God would send my co-worker in early...why didn't I just pray God would protect me? Duh;

- Not a good idea to eat sweets at midnight-thirty right before heading off into a nightmare-filled slumber;

- Never shave your legs in the shower when you are angry;

- Needing someone to be 'on my side';

- Non-believing people make the better friends.

Girl, this living's not so hard as it seems

She's just waiting for the summertime, when the weather's fine
She could hitch a ride out of town, and so far away
From that low down, good-for-nothing, mistake-making fool
With excuses like: 'baby, that was a long time ago'
But that's just a euphemism, if you want the truth -
He was out of control


But a short time's a long time: when your mind just won't let it go


Well, summer came along and then it was gone, and
So was she, but
Not from him
Cause he followed her

Just to let her know: her dreams are dreams, and all this living's so much harder than it seems