All about the triumph of intellect and romance

Ugh. Woke up today and discovered that the awful feeling that's been accompanying me this week (lots of fatigue, a runny nose, etc.) has morphed into a full-blown illness. I don't know where these symptoms are headed (i.e, have no fixed diagnosis), but today it's more of a cold than anything else. *sad panda* Hopefully it won't be worse tomorrow.

So I skipped my afternoon class and alternatively slept and chugged orange juice, tea, water, and beef boullion to start recuperating. After that, I turned in some important homework and went to check my mail. The only good thing about today is that my new camera has arrived. Yay. (It would be louder and more emphatic, but I can't muster up that kind of energy.)

Now I'm watching Mad Men and pretending that I don't have to lead a presentation for SAO later tonight. Or that I'm behind on reading Cold Mountain. But I've got some leftover curry from yesterday's lunch, so that will be nice to have...

Woke up, ate a leisurely breakfast in front of my computer, and finished reading an article for class all before 9:00.

Went to class at the normal time only to find it had been canceled! The note said to check e-mail for more details.

Checked my email and discovered not only the aforementioned cancellation notice, but also notice that our final papers on Robinson Crusoe have been pushed back to the delightful due date of next Wednesday.

Friday is so flipping awesome!! (No pun on Crusoe intended, LOL.)

*dances like a mad person*

What is this?? A second LJ post for the day? Monumental!

Anyway, this is a story that begs to be shared. I had a short meeting in the Oaks earlier tonight. Afterwards, my roommate and I were walking back from said event. We were just chatting, not really paying attention to where we were walking, and ended up taking a tiny shortcut through the grass to get to the actual footpath. As we're walking, two runners -- a man and a woman -- turn onto the sidewalk near us and start to jog past.

Realizing that we're walking in the grass at that point, and that we're about to get soaked due to the huge puddles lying in wait for our nice, dry shoes, I turn to chocoholic47and say something loud and snarky to the effect of:

"Wow, it's a bit wet here."

And one of the runners, while passing us on the left, looks my way and comments:

"That's what SHE said!"

At which point they turned the corner in the opposite direction, and I laughed hysterically in the meantime. I have never seen the from-a-distance "that's what she said" employed so well. It sounds like something that would come straight out of sitcom-world. Thus, to echo the title of this entry: Well played, sir. May watching endless reruns of The Office continue to benefit you in similar ways.

I've been in a fairly thoughtful mood this week. Most of it derives from the conclusion of my London experience, and realizing how that changed me in some tiny, nuanced ways, as well as in much larger ones. A tiny bit of it is caused by the fact that my 20th birthday is coming up, and we all know how birthdays can make a person think hard and well about their lives. However, seeing some of my Boone friends (or not seeing them, to be more accurate) has started to make me think about the ways that friendships evolve and change throughout their course.

Over my lifetime, I've had a few good, close, proper friends -- the ones who know every little thing about me, no matter how insignificant. They fielded four-hour phone calls (from a bedroom floor or junk-filled closet) about nothing and everything, got me through the hell of middle school and angst therein. They supported me, grew with me, or helped me discover something I didn't recognize in myself. For instance, I never would have thought of becoming a writer (or of writing for fun) had it not been for one of my best friends in middle school. Some of them, like that aforementioned girl, have come and gone already. Others, like my high school friends, were with me during the whirlwind of change that was freshman year, or senior year; they stood by me and helped me understand my place in their lives and in my own specific world. Now that we're entering the final two years of college, I can plainly see how we are slowly beginning to drift into different lives and interests.

I guess, for me, the trouble is not in realizing that we are changing and adapting, but in realizing that these processes are like a cycle. I'll be repeating and going through these processes no matter where I am or who I meet. Because I am the type of person who thinks of the future often, I worry about investing time and love with someone who might not be around until I'm 64, 84 -- what have you.

One of my close friends is doing mission work in Prague over the summer, and I'm keeping up with her blog while she's away. She posted a day or two ago about meeting people in one of the local hostels and making conversation with the travelers who come in and out. She had this to say about friendship and its purpose in our lives; I think it's probably one of the wisest and most honest statements that could be made about it. I was absolutely blown away.

..I'll always remember what my friend Paul told me: that every friendship, every opportunity to show love, every opportunity to learn something new from someone else is important, no matter how brief and temporary. What a shame it would be to never start a conversation with someone you might only see once, simply because you knew there could be no lasting friendship to come out of it. What a shame to never invest in a person's life, just because that friendship might only last a couple of hours, a couple of weeks, a couple of months, a couple of years. What a shame to never care deeply because you are afraid of the pain of letting go. All things go, all things die, new things are born in the shadow of what has passed away- this is the consistent ebb and flow of joy and sorrow in all of nature. In the grand scheme of eternity, I am a strand that is woven into the tapestry of someone else's life, and my brief engagement in their life experience can be a small, integral part of a larger picture I'll never see here. Every person is valuable, every person is made in the image of an incredible God, every person reveals to me a different facet of His glory....and I never want to miss that in anyone. 

 So, I'm still ruminating over all of the possibilities and meanings that come out of that assumption. Which makes me both ponderous and all sorts of idiotic because then I start thinking about every decision and reaction and overanalyzing everything. Sigh. It led to a two-hour phone call with an old friend and me wondering what I'm going to do with my life, again.

Anyway. I felt like sharing my friend's quote with everyone, because it surely made me think. It's good, no?

Mine was actually going fairly well until I left for work. I had been helping my mom clean out one of her rental properties so she could get it ready for the new tenants to move in; despite spiderwebs and dust galore, it wasn't too difficult.

I came home, put on some makeup and decent clothes, and was primed to get to Boone early, with extra time to run a couple of errands beforehand. While coming to a stop at the exit of my neighborhood, I realized that my chap stick (which for me is a tiny pot of Vaseline) was going to be needed soon, and thought "Hey, why not pull it out right now?" Forgetting that my purse and its contents had been in the sweltering sun all morning. As well as the fact that said pot of Vaseline had completely melted because of that exposure.

So, instead of getting relief from my chapped lips, I was promptly moisturised from torso to knees with liquid Vaseline, forcing me to go back home, stick my clothes in the freezer (to try and scrape the stuff off later), change into new clothes, and speed to work so I wouldn't be late. Additionally, it got on the seat of my car as well as on some dashboard instruments. Sigh.

Work wasn't bad today, though. It was fairly slow, but the people who came in usually bought something, so it didn't matter much in the end. Had a couple of hilarious older ladies (I'm guessing 50/60ish) come in midway through my shift -- one was looking for a flower arrangement for her daughter's house. After finding something simple, she ended up buying a hurricane vase for herself as well. 

Anyway, as she paid, she was attempting to justify the purchase to me and to her friend. I said something like, 'Oh, well at least this vase is fairly small. It won't make for clutter." She laughed and said, '"Oh, my house is just a closetful of shit right now! I definitely don't need any more clutter!"

Which just made me love her. We discussed that, as well as the fact that her newlywed daughter might or might not be pregnant. It doesn't sound like much, but as a retail girl, I've had to force conversations about the most boring topics with customers. (Ex: "This flower is too mauve for my living room. I need more of a lavender. Not a dark lavender, either. Something airy.") To be so entertained by a customer, and to gossip a little with them, is something rare.

Anyway, now I'm drinking tea, watching Brian Regan, and attempting to type out some concrete thoughts on 'Turn Left'. Hopefully one of those will come to a resolution before I go to bed! :)

Spent my day off gloriously doing nothing. Or rather, watching the Sci-Fi marathon of Who that has been on since mid-morning. It was all S2 episodes, so I got to relive things like the parallel universe, the Cybermen, the Isolus, the Queen's coronation, and, of course.....the events of Doomsday.

Forgot that Freema Agyeman makes a brief appearance as Martha's long-lost cousin, Adeola, which was fun to watch. Also forgot that Donna pops up as the "Runaway Bride" right after the tearful Rose/Doctor goodbye. How could I have blanked that from my memory?

In any case, re-watching Army of Ghosts/Doomsday again will probably come in handy.

In other Who-related news, I've been dorking around with my guitar a lot this week, and have subsequently learned a couple of new songs as well as figured how to play an extremely simplified first-rate version of the Who theme. Go me!

Ugh. All attempts to get off work on the 4th of July weekend have not been going so well. I have already talked to two people about switching shifts with me, and neither of them can. My third prospective, I just found out, is trying to take off on that same day, as well; she was scheduled to work the shift before mine.

So, I am still hoping (knock on wood) to go tojkg_vader's sewing get-together. Let's pray for a miracle and some extra help, shall we? Or, conversely, maybe we don't need to open the mall store that weekend? Just a possibility?

For those of you who aren't aware of the situation, my parents are renovating our house in order to prepare for putting it on the market. Because they are in the real estate/construction business, this is a process I've been through multiple times. Too many times to count. It's something I've gotten used to, and usually I don't mind living in chaos for a few weeks or months while this stuff goes on.

However, this renovation has been going on for over a year and a half. And because we've lived in this house for about nine or ten years now, I'd nearly forgotten the little joys of construction. Being forced out of my room/upstairs from 7:45AM, so that I'm not in the way of the contractors/tile guys/electricians/what have you. Noticing that my things are nowhere to be found because they have exploded into what I call "the black hole of stuff" that will probably never function as a guest bedroom. Getting excited because my door is no longer lying against the wall in front of the light switch but is, in fact, back on its hinges. Realizing that the large hole in the bathroom has finally become a shower, if not a completely operational one.

I didn't expect, however, to still be getting injured in the renovation process. I'm injury-prone enough as it is. Thus, it happened that I tripped over a bit of ripped-up carpet this morning and stepped right on the points of some nails that had been anchoring said piece to the floor. My punctured foot still hurts (thankfully, no trips to the ER were necessary.) 

And I'm pissed off because I remember how much I hate living in a construction zone.