Questions

I was reading online about the whole Imus thing. Looking through the comment on Al Roker's blog in particular made me feel a bit sad. You could tell which of the commenters were white or black for the most part, and I wish our country wasn't that polarized. And I can't say that I'm free from that. Several of the comments pointed out that racism against white people by black people is not commented on, and I agree with that. I'm not saying that white people have to deal with racism on a constant basis or at as high a level as many black people. I know that's not true. That, however, does not mean that a black person has the right to make derogatory comments based on my race either. I think our society feels that white people can't call black people on their racism because of our history. And I think that harms everyone. We should be able to have an open dialogue about race. I wish we could free ourselves from the fear and distaste of people who are different than ourselves.

Other comments also called Al a hypocrite for not talking about the black community's use of many offensive terms. That bothers me, too. Not that Al didn't mention it; I mean, after all, it's only one small blog and he was only dealing with one issue. But why is it okay for a public persona to call a woman a 'ho'? Why are we okay with allowing over half of the public to be derided and treated with disrespect on a regular basis? Why did making a public smear about someone's sexual activity get to be a commonly accepted insult? I'm not saying this is a new phenomenon, but shouldn't we at least try to change it? What does it say about our society, our culture? What impact does it have on the identities of women everywhere to hear other women constantly being defined by sex?

A Light and Faith

I think we are going to be okay. I know, that seems a 180 turn from yesterday, and it really is, but I think it's true. I mean, I felt horrible yesterday. It was just awful. I kept thinking about whether we're supposed to be together and trying to pray about it, but all I got was pain and confusion. I even thought about not going to the Maundy Thursday service, because I figured I'd have a hard time not crying through the whole thing. But I figured it was better to distract myself, so I went. And I did almost cry during the warm-up for the choir. But then the strangest thing happened. (Warning: God stuff ahead) We went into the sanctuary and all of a sudden, I was so full of peace and calm. I prayed, and got a strong answer (YES) and a bit of a reprimand. After the service, I skipped the rest of our rehearsal and went to see SB. We cuddled and talked and he feels better about things now. He still wants time to think things through, and I understand that.

Because, see, the reprimand was about how I've been acting. I've not been a very good girlfriend for a while. I don't feel entirely guilty about this; I was going through a lot of stuff, growing pains, having a shitty job, trying to balance myself. I had to focus on me for a while. It's been a long while, but... SB took the brunt of this. I was willing to admit my responsibility for our problems, but not willing to take any action to help. The whole weight of fixing everything fell on him. And that's not good. Or fair. He dealt with everything, my mood swings, my irrationality. It was really hard on him. But now I'm through that. I'm not saying that I'm all grown up now. But I am infinitely better than I was. And I'm strong enough again to stand up and be a partner in all of this. This has been a whole wake-up call that I need to put on my big girl panties and own up to my responsibility. He still has to think about things, because it's been a long time since I've been able to do that. He has to take a risk in trusting that I actually can. I think he will. The thought that he won't makes me nervous, but I have faith.

Update

Okay, he just emailed me and things are looking less bleak...

A Sad Haiku

My heart is breaking.
He needs to think about
Us. I'm dying inside.

SB told me last night that he thinks we should break up. And not for any reason that I can be mad at or hate him for. But because he thinks I deserve better and that we might be on different paths. I asked him to give us one more chance, that I should be the one to make that decision. He said that he needs to think about it over the weekend and we'll talk on Sunday. I didn't sleep last night, I'm constantly close to tears, and I'm trying to figure out what I can do and what I did wrong. And I'm cursing my naivety years ago when I thought having a broken heart couldn't possibly be worse than being constantly alone. I don't really want to talk about it any more right now, but if we do officially break up on Sunday, I can almost guarantee this blog will not be updated much for a while.

Living with (and without) Fear

SB and I watched Stranger Than Fiction last night. It was such a good movie. I can't quite state why I liked it so much, besides that it was funny and dealt with literature. It did encapsulate something I think most book lovers feel, which is that the characters in the books we read are real. Not that we think they are, but characters in a good book have to come alive for you. Otherwise, why do you keep reading?

The movie also made me feel like I should immediately quit my job and just do what I want to for a while. Travel, really. That's what I'd do. Go horseback riding in Greece, drink wine in a villa in Italy, participate in a tea ceremony in Japan, see the Pyramids and the Great Wall of China and Masada... Experience things beyond what I currently know, stretch my mind. After all, I'm going to be going into debt anyways... Why not start a few months early? I know deep down that I'm entirely too practical to do such a thing, but I think that is part of the appeal. It would be so scary for me, but being scared is a good thing. Stretches you and makes you stronger.

Which reminds me. I'm totally making "Stand" by Rascal Flatts my theme song for a while.

Online networking

I've decided that I'm not very good at the social networking site thing. I don't go on them that often, I don' t think they're that interesting, and I don't friend every person I vaguely recognize. I could, but then I think, "I haven't seen this person since 6th grade. Why do I want to go through the trouble of friending them?" Not that I turn them down if they friend me, though some of them I wonder about. I mean, if we weren't ever friends, then why are you friending me but to increase your numbers? Don't tell me that you actually care about what is going on in my life... Unless I'm judging because I don't really care about what's going on in their lives. Maybe I mean more to them than they do to me. But really. It's all about the numbers.

But then I go on and feel bad because I have fewer friends listed than others. I see people on my friends' friend list that I know and I wonder why they didn't friend me, and who friended whom. I know I read entirely too much into it all, and think entirely too much about it. I feel left out of a system that I don't really like that well. I mean, I get excited when I see people I'd been wondering about. I figure it's a good chance to catch up with them. (That happened today. She better friend me back. I want to know what's going on, and how life has been since she got married.) But if I was close to you, I hope that I have your real contact information and can email or call or at least im. It's not like you can really get your friendship back through myspace or facebook. Or maybe some people can. I, however, don't seem to be one of them. So, people, if you really want to get back in touch with me, you're going to have to email me. Otherwise, we'll just occasionally look at each other's pictures (except I don't post any) and move on in our own separate lives.

Food stuff

I was reading an article in Newsweek where a woman talked about losing weight by eating only 1200 calories and walking a mile a day. I don't understand these types of people. First of all, it's hard for me to be impressed by her walking a mile a day on a treadmill. I mean, really. A whole big mile? I know some people don't get out much, and I, living in a city and using public transit, am forced to walk more than most. But still.

Then there is the whole 1200 calories thing. How do people survive on that? I know it's near the bottom range of what the body typically needs. But think about it. One piece of pizza has about 300 calories at least. If you have three pieces of pizza and a soda? That's it. You're done eating for the day. Don't these people enjoy food at all? I mean, I understand the needing to lose weight and to be healthy and whatnot. But, still. There's being healthy and there's torturing yourself. How are they not hungry all the time? I mean, you can only eat so much lettuce...

Also, I am so freaking excited. I just found out that there's a Jimmie John's here. WHEE!!!

Death and Taxes

Well, you are getting this rare Sunday update courtesy of the coffee store near me with free wireless and my need to do taxes. Sadly, I didn't bring all the sheets I need to actually file my taxes, so the plan is to go home, get the sheets, and take them to work so I can spend the five minutes necessary to wrap up. Luckily, while I may owe the state taxes (I don't really understand this, as I have one less deduction than I should be able to take), I'm getting a decent amount back from the federal government.

In the life of Emily, something good finally happened. I think it's all due to my haiku dedicated to her. What can I say? My writing inspires good things in the lives of friends. More people should read my blog! You're (but not really you, because you obviously are reading this) missing out on a chance to improve your life by spending mere minutes a day reading this lovely website.

I am mad at my diet, mainly because I lost no weight this week and I did really well this week. I'm just claiming that I gained like 6 pounds of muscle, so I've really lost like 10 pounds (since as we alll know, muscle weighs more than fat and to stay the same while gaining six pounds of muscle, I'd have to lose more fat). I'm claiming this, although I know it's not entirely true, though my legs are getting crazy strong. I have to work on incentives, though. It's kind of a problem when I'm used to food as a reward, and am completely broke. I'm thinking of using my tax return for stuff, but really. What is reward enough to keep me motivated? I'm just not sure... If you have any ideas, let me know.

I'm also now last in my tournament pool. Sigh. Stupid Butler. They were freaking ahead by like 10 just a few minutes before the end of the half. And then they just pooped out. Oh well. At least, as my dad keeps pointing out, I have no money riding on it. And CW's boyfriend is no longer in first. I don't know why I don't want him to win, except that I don't like his bracket name. Oh well. UNC better win today, though, or I have absolutely no chance of not being last. Let's go, Tarheels!

A Haiku

In honor of friend
Emily, who is so cute,
I poked someone on the knee.

Not really, but I will next time I see SB. Other people won't get it.

It was lovely to chat with Emily the other night. It was interesting timing, because that very day, I'd again come to the sad realization that some of my friends from high school are putting a much greater effort to stay in touch with each other than they ever have with me. Some of that, I'm sure, is because I fled from Tennessee just as fast as possible when I graduated from high school. Not from them. I still stayed in touch, I was just six hours away. Otherwise, I mean, I can come up with other reasons. But I don't feel like it. I don't feel like feeling bad about it, either, and I'm not going to. But yes. So chatting with Emily was a nice pick-me-up.

In other news... well, I don't really have any. I had all these ideas over the week about stuff to blog about, but then I didn't have time at work, no internet at home, and now the ideas have all fled. I did learn that apparently Cassie has similar traits to her sister, Callie (neither of us knew the other cat's name when we named them). For example, they both get scared very easily and hiss or growl. SB is using this as a reason to make himself feel better, as Cassie hisses or growls at him frequently, and me rarely. :-) He thinks it's a sign that she doesn't like him. I think it's a sign that she doesn't trust him as much, because he thinks she likes things like being picked up and whirled. I wonder if the two cats remember each other?

Singing Alone on the Train

I was getting on the metro yesterday when something strange happened. For the most part, there is an accepted code of conduct on the metro. Locals sit there, trying not to catch anyone's eye, spacing out and avoiding human contact, unless they know someone on the train with them. In that case, chatting quietly is permissible. Teens frequently chat loudly, rather than quietly, but that's teens for you. Tourists try not to fall over, try to figure out what stop they're at/going to, and talk loudly to the people in their group. Ones who have been to DC try to show off their knowledge.

But yesterday, there was a guy who didn't do any of these things. Instead, he got on, singing along to his music. This was enough to catch my attention. Then he started air drumming and I started wondering if I should move to a less crazy section of the train, particularly as he beat out a fast rhythm on the metal bar. I didn't; instead, I put in my earphones and watched out of the corner of my eye. And by the time he got off, I was a little jealous. Not of air drumming. I have no desire to air drum. But his complete lack of caring. He could care less what we thought of him. He just was happy to be there, happy to be himself. And that has an appeal to me. Maybe in a few years, you'll find me riding around, doing whatever I feel like, singing along to my music.

Amazingly enough, a good week

For a few reasons. First and foremost... I GOT INTO ONE OF MY TOP CHOICES!!!! This is the first school I looked at, the first one I seriously considered. And now. I'm in. "Enthusiastically" in. AND I am being seriously considered for a scholarship, something I had mildly hoped for, but never thought would actually happen. (Not in general, just at this "known to be stingy" school.) I'm really excited. Now I'm just waiting on two more.

Then I got Sims 2 Weather expansion. Yes, I know. It's sad that a game can excite me that much, but it's so fun. They can grow gardens and go ice skating (where they fall on their asses) and play catch and get struck by lightening. It's just splendid.

AND I'm in a March Madness bracket thing with CW and I'm doing well. I have some cracked out picks, but for the most part. I'm tied for third currently. Though Butler has to keep doing well; otherwise, I'm screwed. Yes, it was risky, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. No guts, no glory, and all that.

It makes all the other craziness of this week (such as losing a room for a meeting, getting that room back, finding out that we had to send out a bunch of invites instead of other people...) not quite so bad. And SB is now 29, so I get to make fun of him that much more. :-)

Things that Suck

1. Technology. After having our entire server crash because Microsoft's patch for the early hour change SUCKS, not being able to even be at my computer for most of the afternoon, and having my gym mp3 player suddenly decide to stop reading half of its memory card, technology is not high on my list. Add to that the fact that whomever I was stealing internet from has moved, and now I can't get online at home...

2. Tourists. Yes, I know, everyone here hates tourists. But during the lovely winter months, I had forgotten how truly horrid they are. If any tourists shall read this, don't take it personally. And don't take the metro before 9am. Or at 5:30pm. You clog the system, don't have the requisite balance for any kind of manuevers, clog the aisles, don't have to be there then, and don't really know when or how to get off. You must understand, those of us who aren't tourists have been or are going to be working all day. We just want to get where we are going in peace. You not only make our commutes harder, you remind us that there are people who are currently not working, who are having fun. Please spare all of us the need to beat you with something.

3. Water. I actually like water; however, drinking it means I have to pee entirely too often.

4. Listening to phone conversations that hardly acknowledge you while trying to sleep with a horrendous headache. SB decided to call his best friend last night. And then talked forever. Which is fine, except my having said horrendous headache and only wanting to sleep. Throw in hormones, him not mentioning me on the call, the lack of outrageous compliments from his friend (who usually tells SB to tell me he loves me...), plus the sheer tone of "my life was so much fun before you were in it" and you get what SB got. A not-happy me who says snotty things, acts pathetic (I really didn't feel well...), and then forces you to leave so I can go to bed.

Thorny roses

Every morning, I get up and turn on the TV to watch the Today show while I dress and drink tea and such. Most mornings, I get cheesy stories and mildly informative discussions. Today, however, I got mad. Not at the show itself, but at a school, at society. They brought on three girls. These girls are in high school and performed at an open mic night. These girls used a word the school admin had asked them not to and have been suspended for one day. They haven't served this; the superintendent is reviewing the decision. The word these girls used? Vagina. That's right. Vagina. And not in any negative, derogatory, or dirty way. They just read a paragraph from The Vagina Monologues, and not one of the racy ones. One of the empowering ones. The school's reason for not wanting this word used? There might be young children in the audience, since it was open to anyone who wanted to come.

Are you kidding me?! First of all, there was another act that used "fuck" in their performance. Are they expelled? Nope. But girls who named a freaking body part are. Why is our country so afraid of these organs. Why should we worry if small children hear the medical terminology for their own damn body parts? One of my coworkers pointed out that he could understand the school's reasoning, as people are crazy. Which I get. Yes, parents are nuts. But first of all, The Vagina Monologues was written in part as a commentary about the fact that vagina has, for some reason, become a dirty word. What kind of message does that send women? Your body is dirty and gross and wrong? Yeah, because that's what I would want my daughter to think. I admire these girls for standing up for what they believed. Second of all, the parents who think these things are wrong are teaching their children the most that their bodies are dirty and that sex is evil. Shouldn't school try to at least educate these kids on the basic facts at least? Schools shouldn't be so afraid of complaining parents that they forget their purpose as institutions of education.

This also ties to an on-going argument in the world of children's librarians. Apparently, some librarians are upset because one of the Newbury winners has the word "scrotum" in it. Again, not in any sexual kind of way, but just factual. "The dog licked its scrotum," or something along those lines. And that, apparently, is reason enough for people to not read this book, for them to worry about "age appropriateness." Hello? People? Males have scrota. If the author had said "balls," would anyone be upset?

Both these events make me wonder about the power of words, and what the fear of certain words means. People have to be afraid of these words for a reason. Why do some of us feel that children need to be protected, not from derogatory or cruel words, but scientific, anatomical ones? Is it because using medical terms makes the objects seem more real? But why would that matter? Is it because these are sex body parts? Because, I hate to tell you, sex is necessary for the continuation of the species. These adorable little girls and boys are going to grow up, have sex with their "thingies and hoo-haws," and ensure that our species does not disappear into the night. Keeping children ignorant is not going to prevent this (luckily) and instead will lead to some rebellious and horribly ill-informed teens.

Busyness

It's been weird these past few weeks. I've actually been decently busy at work, enough so I don't get a chance to write or check blogs daily. I can't handle it!! Except I really kind of prefer it, even if I still hate my job. At least this way, the day goes by faster, even though today has been both busy and dragging, so that the remaining minute portion of the day seems as though it will take forever. But it shan't, and then I shall force my way through the winds and the cold and climb the ridiculously large hill and be home with my kitty. And I shall drink my new, "good for your liver" tea and watch tv and wait until SB comes over, hopefully with food. And then we shall watch the glory that is Gilmore Girls.

I did dream about Gilmore Girls last night. I believe I switched from being Lorelai to being a friend of Rori's who was staying with her in a foreign country where everyone spoke English and where I was living in a big house with them. They were all playing video games and I was forced to join them alone, because Rori was upstairs with Logan. There was also a whole part about Cassie being there and getting to go outside and absolutely loving it, which we all know wouldn't really happen because she's a big scaredy cat who frequently growls at people walking down the hall and gets antsy when she hears people upstairs. Needless to say, it was strange.

I also heard from my "ridiculously hard to get into and it will be a complete and utter miracle if I do" school today. As you clearly should have known from the lack of exclamation points and excitement, I didn't get it. Which is what I expected, so it's hard to be disappointed. Especially since I had to lie and say that I wanted a PhD, and I would have to move. Now we have one more "ridiculous" category, one I'll probably get into, but not get funded, and two toss-ups, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If I don't get into the last two, I'll be sad. Though at least I do have my back-up school, even if they are poor and can't offer funding for at least the first semester....

Screaming at the top of my range

Well, I was going to write a wrathful and entertaining post about differences in generations, stirred up mostly because of comments from a coworker, but alas. The first half of today I was lethargic and the second half I was busy. Crazy busy. I feel like I've been running around like mad. And I just have the feeling that I'm forgetting something...

My choir director has now thoroughly freaked me out. Primarily because she asked me to sing a descant on our big Palm Sunday piece. For those of you who don't know, a descant is sung by a small group who sings a higher part than the rest of the choir. This part interweaves and accents the other parts. It's more of an icing-on-the-cake part. I've sung descants before without any problem. The problem with this descant is that it is insanely high. As in a C-flat. Again, for none music people, a C-flat is crazy high. Like Mariah Carey high. I'm a mezzo-soprano; I don't do crazy high. However, in the interest of being a good choir member, I told my director that I would try. Emphasis on try. Another interesting aspect to the whole thing is that trying involves vocalization exersizes to strengthen your throat. If I scream as high as I can in my apartment, someone is going to think I'm being murdered. Plus, my poor cat will be traumatized (she's a pansy anyways). And I won't really know how high I'm singing, since I don't have a piano. I did download the piece and I know the high note in "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera is a B-flat, so I'll have a general idea of when I'm getting close. The whole thing could wind up being very interesting. AND I think she's going to start making me sing first more. I don't WANT to sing first soprano. I LIKE being a second. It's more fun and challenging and I don't actually like singing high. Sigh. That's what I get for doing a solo this summer. Otherwise, she'd never have known that I can sing...

Idiocy, et al.

I've decided on my new career path. I'm going to be a professional class-taker. Or a graphics design person, except that our graphics design person was talking yesterday about all the desperate resumes they get from starving artists, even though the firm is two people big and has no intention of hiring anyone. I'd rather not be a starving artist. I like my food. :-) Mmm... I had Luna Grill's salmon last night. That salmon is amazing. Though, actually, last night it wasn't quite up to its usual foodgasm status. It was still very good, but not crazy good. I think they didn't give me enough lemon butter caper sauce. Anyways, all this comes from taking a suprisingly entertaining and educational design class on Monday. Twas much fun.

I did find out on Monday that I got into my back-up school. Yay for back-up school goodness!! Now, at least, I'll have SOMEWHERE to go. I remember saying a few months ago that I wasn't worried about getting in places, just getting funded. It's a lot easier to say that when you aren't staring the possibility of not getting in anywhere in the face. Which apparently happened to both of my parents. I mean, they only applied to one school each, but my dad didn't get into med school first go around. Who knew? Certainly not me... Apparently, a year later he got in and kicked everyone else's asses, gradewise. My mom said not getting in, which she blames on her lack of academic commitment in undergrad, is her one regret. Which is not too shabby, seeing as how not having a masters in music didn't seem to slow her down any. She was passionate about practicing in undergrad, though. Apparently, at her senior recital, the graduate professors were asking who she was. My mom's teacher told them, "The girl you turned down for grad school!" I feel there is an implied "dumbasses" at the end of that statement.

SB finally returned from Florida, after what can only be called the returning from Florida hell trip. United has no support from me and I shall try to avoid flying them at all costs from now on. It is one thing to cancel or delay flights for real weather reasons. It is another entirely to be incompetent, lie to your passengers, offer no real customer service, and then blame all that on weather that is happening miles away from the flight route. SB was supposed to get home Saturday at 10:30pm. He got home Monday at 1:10am, and that was only because I found him a cheap ticket on another airline. UNITED had him coming home Wednesday morning. Morons. Anyways, his attitude upon return this time was much more acceptable this time than last time. We shall almost declare him forgiven. He may be completely forgiven upon viewing of my presents.

Holding out hope

I checked on the internets today, and there may be hope for Studio 60!! This excites me, as I have fallen madly in love with this shows and its characters. It's just so good. And they always cancel good shows before they've really had time to get popular. And yes, I know it has been taken off the air. This, according to my sources, though is temporary. They did the same thing with 30 Rock, and both shows should be back some time in April.

I also have fallen in love with the band Girlyman. I saw them with Dar Williams a couple of years ago, and liked them enough to buy the cd. I bought it, but never really listened to it. And then, a week or so ago, I started listening to it and now I'm entirely obsessed. They just have such great harmonies and interplay and... it's just so good! I'm considering going to see them in Vienna (Va, sadly, not Austria). They're having a cd release party. The only problem is that it is right around SB's birthday, and I'm not sure I want to force activities on him on his birthday weekend.

I did just post about Smores on another blog. This was probably a mistake, as it has led to me craving (what else?) smores. I'm not allowed smores... Sigh.

Home Again

Sigh. I'm back at work again and already wishing to be gone. Gone for good! That would be lovely...

So my trip home was nice. I will, in a short few weeks, be the proud owner of perfectly fitting pants and jackets. As long as I don't lose or gain any weight or muscle... I got home and was promptly bitten by my former kitten, who now thoroughly is my mom's. He bit me hard enough to draw blood, nicely on my face so I went around all weekend looking as though I had food on my mouth. Then when I got back to DC, Cassie attacked me, too. Well not as quickly. But she really went after my arm this morning.

The bigger news today is that Lent has started. It's going to be rough. I always hate these first few weeks. I'm giving up dessert, soda, and all non-wine alcohol. I may just cry, as I love dessert and hot chocolate with Baileys. But that's the point. It's a sacrifice. And it'll help make me healthier, so I can't whine too much.

SB is still in Florida. His family goes down to visit his grandparents who winter down there and to see the Daytona. I am SO glad I'm not there, though one of my favorite of his relatives is down there, too. But all they do is eat and shop. And eat some more. And then hang out in the trailer park. Which is fine for them. It makes them happy, whatever. But I want to do more on my vacations. Not that I did much more at home, but going home is a different sort of vacation. My mom did support my need to have dessert before the beginning of Lent, to the extent that the only thing she cooked for dinner on Saturday and Sunday was an apple pie. A frozen apple pie. It was delicious. I also finally saw Wordplay, a highly entertaining documentary about crossword puzzles. I may or may not now be addicted to crossword puzzles, though not to the extent that I would want to compete. And it'd be nice if SOME of the people didn't exactly fit the stereotype.

I also finally saw The Devil Wears Prada. My mom asked me if it made me feel better about my job. I said no, primarily because moments before she had asked me that, I'd been thinking that I'd rather have her job than mine. At least she was going places and meeting people. And her boss had her crazy expectations set out. Here, they just lie in wait and then mug you when you least expect it.

I Hate Them with the Passionate Fires of a Thousand Burning Suns *

This week has been thoroughly shit-tastic. Well, except for Wednesday. Wednesday was a day of glorious calm in the midst of the storm. The eye in the hurricane, if you will.

And what has made this week so horrendous? Primarily working for hypocritical morons who could care less about their employees. Which might make sense if I worked for a large corporation, such as Walmart. But I don't. And it makes me want to scream and jump up and down and perhaps shove them. All not wise, but what I would like to do. Or go on a mad rampage using big words just to prove that I am smarter than they are.

Also, Metro may force me to murder someone. Not anyone in particular, but if anything is going to make me hate someone that much, it will be being shoved into other people's armpits, pushed until I can hardly breathe as if standing outside the train and pushing will make everyone inside a little skinnier and thus enough room for one more person, unable to get out because some people refuse to step outside so others can get out, and late for everything always. I mean, really Metro. We've known for a good long time that there was going to be winter weather this week. And it snows a tenth of an inch in the morning and a whole segment of the blue line goes out? Are you kidding me?? And right when the Federal Government closes, a train breaks down? Weather is only an excuse when it's really bad and unexpected.

Plus, while SB is/was back (he has now left again for Florida to watch people drive really fast in a circle), he also could not manage to stay awake at all. Jet-lag only goes so far as an excuse, so therefore I was not particularly happy with him. He knows this and had better be better when he gets back next weekend. Though Wednesday dinner was lovely and fun and could almost redeem him, except he has decided that I love Bath and Body Works stuff and that therefore means he can get me stuff from there for every present ever. I believe I have squashed this idea now, but still. I like Bath and Body Works, but it's got to be like the most generic present ever and I don't understand why guys don't get that. I'm pushing for diamonds (no, not THAT kind of diamond. A necklace or something.) for my birthday.

Luckily I'm going home where I shall let my parents pamper me. And not worry about the fact that my healthy eating habits have somewhat fallen by the roadside this week, because next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and the beginning of Lent, which means no sweets or non-wine alcohol or soda.

*I'm trying not to hate them. I really am. I know that hatred only hurts me. But they're just SO DAMN OBNOXIOUS... [deep breaths, deep breaths]

Call me "Your Majesty"

I went this weekend with some friends to see The Queen. It was good, definitely made me like the British more, definitely made me like the Queen more... I think we could even be friends. After all, I like the subtle British wit, I like walking, I like well-behaved dogs... We'd be set. I was suprised by how nice they were to Charles. His, shall we call it, strangeness still came out, but they didn't emphasis it at all.

The thing that struck me as unusual, though, and made me think was not anything directly from the movie in that it was reality and I remember thinking this at the time Diana died. There was so much outpouring of emotion. Genuine emotion, from people who had no real connection to her. And it wasn't just the British who were captivated by her. It seemed as though everyone was, and then everyone was devestated when she died. One of the people interviewed in the movie (I believe the clip came from news reels at the time) said she just kept hoping that it was all a dream, that she'd wake up and Diana would still be alive. And her death was a shock. But how does one person come to mean so much to so many people? I can't imagine anyone right now, any celebrity, any politician, any do-gooder whose death would have as much of an impact as Diana's did. I can imagine being saddened by a public figure's death, but my life most likely wouldn't be changed. I wouldn't feel heart-rending emotion, I wouldn't spend hours traveling to lay flowers down on a gate. If someone I knew and loved died, I would have that kind of emotion and experience. But for someone I had never met? What did Diana come to represent that meant so much to so many people? The epic underdog? The "real-life Cinderella?" I just don't get it...