Pieces

Each of us is like one really complicated puzzle. There are pieces we can't find to put together, there are pieces which we are so sure go in a certain place, so sure they'll fit and that idea we have, so sure that we'll fit in the same picture. There are so many pieces which are hidden, pieces which are so crucial to the greater image.

They're lying around somewhere.

We cover each little piece up with images we think will be opaque enough to hide our facade. We cover the tear-stained cheeks with makeup, and the old pictures with new ones. We clutter up the pieces so that it is to hard to find. If we ignore them, then we are sure others will miss the point completely.

Because of this, we fail to know anyone. We fail to make relationships and to connect really. We're just pieces shoved into the wrong corresponding ones. And those which fit are no where to be found.

Oktoberfest

Being friends with someone containing a newfound love for everything German, I found myself heading down to George's tonight for some good ol' fashioned Oktoberfest partying. Okay, I take back the good... and the old fashioned.... and the partying.

When we walked in the door, Robin managed to state, what is normally the obvious about George's "well, it looks empty".

"zwei Dollar" said the lady at the door to me.

"What?" I exclaim! "Five Dollars? Are you serious?" I figured this a pretty steep door charge. No wonder the place wasn't full.

Suddenly, Alicia steps in behind me.
"No," she says, explaining, "she doesn't take German. Laura, zwei means TWO".

I must admit however skeptical I was about going to a German society party at George's of all places, it was a pretty fun night. The evening was complete with sausages and ginger cookies (without the ginger) and apple strudel and German beer and best of all - real live Germans.

My most memorable part of the night however, occurred just as I was getting up to leave.

"Oh my gosh" I said excitedly to the two real-life Germans sitting with us "Do you know Schnappi?", to which I decide to break down into my very own rendition of Schnappi. To my sheer delight, they actually DO listen to Schnappi in Germany! Although George's didn't play it, I certainly got almost the pleasure of being able to share my 'love' of this songs with my new German friends.

To hear the most incredible song in the world, e*mail or MSN me, and I will certainly send you a Schnappi to keep as your very own!

TP Troubles

I live in a house with four other girls.

Five girls, and ONE bathroom.

Although the girls at 33C don't necessarily use the washroom more than the average female (although sometimes I wonder about the size of my own bladder), it is incredible how quickly we go through toilet paper.

There will be days when I will change the roll twice in one day.

Understandable, females use toilet paper more than males would. I remember having this discussion with Dan and Matty one day in the grocery store when we passed the toilet paper aisle. It probably is a shocker to males when they start living with a female. Add that to the hassle of having to put down the seat!

The past few days has been one of those times when we have run out of toilet paper. For a family who uses SO much, having none for even the span of a few hours is rather inconvenient. At first, someone kindly offered their tiny pack of personal Kleenex, but soon an entire box of Kleenex surfaced from someone's room. At least Kleenex is soft.

On that note, I have to pee.


*NOTE* My apologies to Caitlin who's picture did not appear on this blog. You are a beloved roommate, yet one whom I have no pictures of. :(

Acadia's Homecoming, courtesy of the MtA Football team

What? A post about my life? Nope, I don't believe it either. I tend not to do the whole "life update" thing. I think it is because I have a very low funniness level, making anything that I think is funny, completely and only understandable by MOI!. So, I fall back onto the random ramblings of a wandering mind.

But this weekend was so great, I think I will HAVE to do a "life update".

The ever consistent Mount Allison Mountie Football played against the Acadia Axemen for Acadia's Homecoming. Although a fairly close game (63-0) Acadia came out on top (I blame it on luck. They were clearly outplayed.)

Wolfville was swarming with the likes of 33C. Laura was there only for the game in the rain, but Caitlin and Keltie both went home for the weekend. So, not to be out done, I stayed the night as well.

Dan showed me around his old stompin' ground as we walked up and down the hill that Acadia is built on. I must admit, it seems like ever university (other than MtA, thank heavens) is built on a hill. Unfortunately, 33C happens to be on top of a hill, so I've screwed myself over either way. Although their football team leaves a lot to be desired, and their residences are no where up to par (Cutten, what Tiffany?), I suppose that students there could manage to enjoy their years stuck in Wolfville.

I got the chance to meet the lovely Dub and MJ, which was seriously a treat. I also met their roommate Cole, but only for a brief time. The four of us enjoyed a lovely supper at Paddy's (I have a hard time not putting an "O's" at the end of that), complete with Irish Cream Cheesecake. MJ and I used the commonality of her kinese degree and my football position as bonding grounds, as well as our New Brunswick roots (what a COOL province. Especially the Sussex/Saint John area.... oi).

The night continued and went great as our pool skills (what pool skills?) were put to the test as Dub and MJ challenged Dan and I to a couple games. Surprisingly, we managed to win the second (very surprisingly). A Toronto/Habs game was broadcasted, one which after the Leafs shameful loss last weekend was imperative to watch. Sports Center (I believe) said it best with their comment about the Leafs being seriously outplayed. (Sound familiar? This time its for real.)

The night ended with Scotskins at Matty's old place of work, (Matty, it was lacking without you). I really wish I was able to enjoy the delicacy, however that experience might have to wait for next time.

An eggs benedict omelet completed the fantastic weekend at Smitty's the next morning. Although the cab company left a lot to be desired, we had fun making fun of Dub's attempt to exit the building. "The doors are locked!"

Keltie, Caitlin, Caitlin's sister and I made the trip back to NB (with a stopover in Bayer's Lake, because THAT's not out of the way) and it was Home Sweet Home from that point on.

From Astrophil and Stella

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That the dear She might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face or woe,
Studying inventions of fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;
Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows,
And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite,

"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write."

~Sir Philip Sydney, Astrophil and Stella Sonnet 1

Still, even in the 1590s, there was great distress surrounding how to express love. I have such desire to write, to show how deep and beautiful my love is. Love is not some sociologically constructed term. It has been around since the beginning of the cosmos, since the creation of Man and his beautiful counterpart. It has been confined in the cage of the heart, seeping out through the imprisoning bars in forms of words and songs and dance and paint. But they're only expressions of a greater malignant being, growing beneath the chest, clogging airways.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Not even comparisons can capture this something that you are to me. Shakespeare felt it. And he believed the only way to capture the beauty was to make it eternal, to put it in black ink and have it show up centuries later in some insignificant girl's blog. Whoever's hand this sonnet fell into is always going to be remember, we'll always be able to try to grasp her beauty and the love that she experienced. What do I have to make this eternal? What methods do I use to describe love? Has anyone come close. Ironically, this feeling that is encapsulated inside of me has chained all of humanity. It creates the most beautiful art, and yet slowly destroys the artist. We are nothing to love, we have no arms against it.

Indifference

I stayed up all night working on a sociology paper. What with the stress of school, and the busyness of Thanksgiving I've been too hard pressed to take the time. I've been too rushed to sit, to contemplate, to remember, and to pray.

Stop.

I saw a cat get hit by a car today.

Stop.

It ran away. I don't know what happened to it.

Stop.

I am on my way out the door right now. My hair and makeup are done, my skirt is flowing, and my heels are high.

Stop.

My great uncle died a few days ago. Uncle Ted had been sick for a while now, going from bad to better to worse to dead. And now he is gone. How does someone just go away? Where're ya stain' Ted?

Stop.

On the sidewalk there are paw prints, hardened in the cement. I pass them every day as I walk the same route continuously. I never can walk right over them, each time I imagine the owner of such prints which walked through the fresh cement, leaving such graphic, material evidence.

There are now only pictures and memories and mascara stains on rosy cheeks.

Hush.

Everything Men Know about Women

Last Friday I got my hair cut. It might be the shortest I've had it since seventh grade (wow - was that ever short). I got about half a foot cut of the length, obviously quite a huge change. Despite many encouraging comments about it, my boyfriend, trying to be as loving and supportive (eye roll) as possible, has refrained from commenting at all. To my statement that he doesn't like my hair, he simply says "I never said that"....

It is implied.

My dad never had a great track record while dealing with women either.


Although friends with many females in university, my dad did not have much of a sense of the female mind set. Understandably, he grew up with no sisters. One day, a friend of his was sitting with her friends complaining of "cramps". Dad to the rescue, decides to give her some friendly advice. "When I get cramps, I just eat some Tomato Soup, and that helps!"

A second time, my dear father, showing an incredible amount of tact, was asked the dreaded question by a date "do you think I'm fat?". Now, from a girl's perspective, this is a desperation attempt when feeling inadequate. So my dad, addressing such feelings responded with "No, you're not fat. You're sturdy."

Seriously guys....