Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all time

Birthdays are a lot like roller coasters. You have huge expectations each time you step into the car; you want the excitement and the rush that the really big loop-the-loop Roller Coasters offer; you want the speed and the thrills. Expectations are huge.

Birthdays have all those same expectations. No other day do we expect all our cards to line up just right (except perhaps the day of our prom and our wedding). Every other day, we have Murphy's Law and sayings such as "Nobody ever said life is fair" floating around the back of our heads, smudging our outlook; but my birthday is "MY Day". It is all about me, when we celebrate the day I was born, and we eat my favorite kind of cake, we give birthday presents to me, ... Basically, not to mention all our selfishness, on our birthday, we have an innermost desire to feel extremely special by those who are special to us.

But every Roller Coaster is dangerous. There are safety harnesses which must be secure, there are operators who know when to start and stop the machine, there are warnings to keep those people with high blood pressure and weak hearts at bay, there are directions to keep hands and feet and other appendages in the ride at all times.

Birthdays have none of these safety harnesses accompanying them.

My birthday was just over a week ago, on a day which all other people despise! It seems that more people are alone on Valentine's day and the Valentine's-haters despise those who have a Valentine (even if their Valentine is miles away and they're alone too). Valentine's Day offers even higher expectations and attracts even weaker hearts.

I suggest that birthdays come mandatory with safety harnesses, warnings, operators, and directions.

Enjoy the ride!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Everything is alright.

"I just want to warn you," Alicia told me as we walked to her birthday supper, "that you're going to cry on your birthday." Big tears. Twenty year old tears.

It's all going to be alright. Everything is alright. You're okay. Everything is going to be okay. Either God is a woman and she's talking to me, or the loudspeaker outside of Bridgestreet Cafe was blasting some strange self-help CD. I wonder who listens to that stuff. I wonder if that CD is in someone's stereo playing over and over every night, just so that the listener can be convinced by some electronic device that the world really isn't all that bad.

I wonder what went through each pedestrian's mind as they walked up and down Bridge Street, as the dim glow came from the closed storefront windows; Walking either to and from bars or pizza joints, expecting to drink away some repressed emotion or to eat away drunken heartbreak.

Everything is alright.

Twenty Year Old Tears.

Loudspeakers don't lie.

The Science of Art

Art is Science made clear.

~Jean Cocteau

What is it that made me love science? I obviously had (have) a passion for the subject throughout the end of high school and the beginning of university, to the point where I still really enjoy learning about it. And yet, here I am now, an arts student. When I think back to Fogarty's class, or Beatty's class, or Gallant's class; when I think back to Astrophotography and taking pictures of nebulas and meteors hitting the moon; or Aventis and blended fish guts smelling up an unplugged fridge all summer; when I think back even to Wednesday's Anthropology class on genes and evolution, I am struck by this thrill of excitement! It certainly is not a desire to learn more math equations or name carbon bonds or understand formulas.

No, it was none of those things.

What I love about science is the intricacy of it all. To learn about science is to learn about how everything works together from the very smallest building blocks of our world, to the wonders of our universe!

http://www.scienceart.nl/Frames/HOMEpage.htm

http://hubblesite.org/newscenter/newsdesk/archive/releases/2006/01/

That's the great thing about it. Instead of pushing the science that I love aside, I have instead embraced it! That is what I fell in love with when I encountered my English and Philosophy classes. Art is taking the natural world, and looking at it in a way that isn't blinded with formulas and equations, but instead looking beyond that and finding beauty. I am not in any way denying our science around us. We are biological entities. But art is what lifts us above our biology. I believe that science unifies us with our humanity, but art attempts to connect us with the divine. Oh, how sublime.

This idea however presents me with a dilemma, one which I find myself at an impasse. If art really has this power to enlighten and evoke contemplation; if beauty is really something above our purely humanistic elements, then experiencing art should be much more of a sacred event than it is now. Instead, because of how easily art can be reproduced, we just glance over it. Anytime a photograph or a poem is added to my blog, I am further endorsing the mind set of our society to merely glance over to figure out what the quick and hard point is.

Maybe there isn't a point. Maybe art has no simple formulas. Maybe art is the language of the gods.

Success

Old, stone staircase, what do you know
Of success?
You know the coming and going of seasons;
Summer, winter, autumn, and spring.
You feel the load of each freshman,
Stepping up to undertake the pressure.
You feel the steps of each graduate -
Walking out of one world and into another.

Oh, old stone staircase,
what do you know of success?
When I would rather sit on you
and weep,

Than walk one step further into this unknown place.

-picture taken behind the library at Mount Allison University.

Apples and Oranges

I remember when I was just a wee girl (well, in middle school and high school), my dad used to tell me that someday, I'd be the type of girl that all the right guys would fall for. At the time, I felt ugly and lonely and would constantly wonder why I wasn't good enough to get a boyfriend. My dad told me that someday, the boys would notice the smart girl, who was beautiful to boot (I never felt beautiful, but Dad told me I was).

Now I stand, and look back with my 20/20 goggles, and realize that he was right. When Dan fell for me, it wasn't my looks that grabbed him. It wasn't my sexuality, or my flirtatiousness which caught his attention. No, it was when we started to talk about what was important to us; when I talked about my faith and my lifestyle, and who I was underneath my clothes, underneath my makeup, underneath my skin, and in my heart and mind.

So, to my sister and to the boys who are missing out, I give you this quote (I thank nc_martialartist for bringing the quote to my attention):

Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

I wish someone as beautiful as you could know that you're going to be so loved by someone. And don't feel bad about being lonely, but don't think that finding someone is the ultimate bliss either. You are beautiful. The bible speaks about Eve being the crown of creation, the thing that made it perfect. Some day, you will fell as beautiful as you are meant to feel. You are worthy to be loved for who you are, for everything you are.

I sometimes wish that we aren't always searching for constant reassurance. Sometimes we go above it, or find it in the wrong places if we can't get it how we want. But many times this desire just leads to pain. I wish no one had to go through the pain. I wish the difference between our emotions and our realities weren't like comparing apples and oranges.

Home

Depth of Field

Finding a gas pump in the middle of nowhere
Next to a bridge fallen from somewhere
Fueling my steps
My steps which take me from here to there
To the place where nowhere leads.
So give me my energy
To continue walking
Over sinking bridges
Which end abruptly.
Maybe I'll end up somewhere.

What You're Missing (or, What's Missing You)

Dear Boyfriend,

While you're enjoying your two bedroom, four balconied penthouse near the beach, here is a little piece of home to remind you of what you're missing.


SNOW!!!

That 'good luck' that you sent to Molly really did her some good (I promise, I passed them along). Tonight she both played and sung beautifully. Since I was the only one home to watch her school Christmas concert, I brought the digital camera to get some pictures. Since you're missing Molly oh-so-much, we decided to make you feel as if you were sitting right beside me in the Lakefield Elementary School gym.





I am in complete awe in how all these grade four and five kids can play the violin so well! I got a prelude to a few of the Christmas pieces in the hospital last night when Molly played for Papa, but hearing the group of them playing is just beautiful.

A ukelale group came to play a few numbers (didn't compare to the violins of course!) and then, Molly came out once more with the choir. They sang beautifully, and such a wide assortment of Christmas pieces. I recorded 10 seconds of each Dona Nobis Pacem, one of my favorite songs to hum while wandering around the house alone. I managed to get some of rendition of 'Let it Snow' to send to Australia! Each song was beautiful, and many were harmonized or sung in round. You should have heard it! The choir sung at the Imperial Theatre here in Saint John sometime last week with choirs and orchestras from all around the area, and apparently it was a night of beautiful music. From what I heard tonight, I don't wonder why.





After the choir, I headed into the 'backstage' area to get Molly bundled up to walk home. (Seriously, a walk home here in Quispam is nothing like what you're getting used to in Australia, (other than the riots. We don't have to worry about our safety, just about how our extremities will react to frostbite.) It was then I suggested to Molly that we make sure you get to experience this night with us! She was thrilled with the idea. She also suggested that I take a picture of her and Emily, the friend which she is planning to make a scrapbook for! Emily recently gave her a Best Friends Charm bracelet that Molly was thrilled about, because it looks remarkably like the silver bracelet I wear around my wrist constantly. Behind Molly and Emily is the infamous Luke - the boy who tried so desperately to be Molly's boyfriend, and who in my opinion is pretty cute! (Molly put me up to saying that!)



Since we decided to have you see these pictures, we decided that I should be in a few of them. So, we took a lovely sister-picture just for you (and for me to have. You can never have enough sister-pictures).


We headed home, and just before curling up in the living room to start reading the second book in Madeline L'Engle's Time Chronicle, we decided to show you what Christmas looks like in our house (because you haven't seen it yet!). Remember, this is without my decorations on the tree yet!





Merry Christmas Dan! We all miss you here! Molly can't stop saying it, and I can't stop feeling it. Don't let the warmth of the sun make you forget about those who love you fifteen time zones away.

Love always,
Molly

And,
Your Girlfriend who loves you

"It's 3 AM I Must be Lonely"

Question: What are normal people doing at three in the morning? Actually, what are normal people doing at three a.m. when they have a nine o'clock exam in the morning.

Not wanting to be out done by the norm, I was sleeping this morning at 3:00 a.m. however, I hadn't been sleeping for very long. I had quite a hard time falling asleep after studying and getting into bed at 12:30. I had Christmas carols running through my head incessantly. When I finally got rid of them it was Emminem running through my head, keeping me awake.

Finally I fell asleep. Finally.

Then, I heard a noise. I looked over at the clock. I read 3:00. I couldn't figure out what the noise was. It was coming from my computer. Still half asleep and groggy, I turned on the screen, and there was my Skype, going off. My moron boyfriend (I mean boyfriend who I love and miss!!) was calling me.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Hey! What were you doing?"

"?? SLEEPING!!!"

"Oh... What time is it there?"

I know it is hard to compute the fifteen hour time difference between him and I. But I was awake now. We might as well talk.

"Oh, I thought it was three o'clock in the afternoon. I just got home to Cassie's" he says. "You have your exam in the morning? Oh, well then you should go back to bed."

"Well, now that I'm awake...."

"Nope, go back to sleep!"

So, I crawl back into bed. Bring on the Christmas carols running through my head keeping me awake again... .... ....

Diagonal Crosswalks

Despite Sackville pedestrians direct disrespect for vehicles, there is still one good reason to stand and wait for the pedestrian lights to signal WALK.

No Mount Allison student could survive in a big city. I'm surprised that many don't get run over first week out of university. We seem to forget that there is traffic, or run across the street anywhere at any given time. Lighted intersections are no different. If the cars have a red light and no one is about to turn right, then its fair game to cross, even if the walk lights say otherwise.

But, when the lights do say WALK, then you can walk in any direction. Including diagonal. All of the traffic is stopped for pedestrians in all directions.

Two days ago, Alicia asked me to meet her at Bridgestreet Cafe for coffee and lunch. I walked down to Bridgestreet and ordered a Hot Mint Chocolate and a broccoli and cheese quiche. As we sat inside this quaint little coffee shop, it started snowing. It has snowed already in Sackville this year, and once it stayed until morning, but by the time everyone woke to see it, the snow had pretty much melted. So here, out the huge picture window facing the Vogue theatre, were light snowflakes. After a few minutes, the streets and cars had a dusting of snow. And it felt like Christmas.

I wrapped my scarf around my neck and dug my hands into my mittens, and walked out into the snow. It had stopped by this point, but there was the new, crisp snow on the ground. As I walked through the park and along the path towards my house, I noticed the footprints. I always notice the footprints in the snow. My favorite part is stepping in a patch of snow where no one has ever stepped before. I'm making my own legacy through my footprint.


Along the path, there were three sets of footprints before mine. They were all walking in the same direction, probably together. They were walking in the same direction as me. It was not until I got to the end of the path that I came across a woman walking in the opposite direction. I wonder if she noticed.

That night, it snowed some more. I put electric Christmas candles in the window, and we turned on our outdoor Christmas lights. Through the street lights, it was evident that the snow was falling. It was not the blizzard-like conditions which were called for in Nova Scotia. But it was beautiful. The snow piled up, and we snuggled up into pyjamas with mugs of hot chocolate in our hands.

Now, the Christmas carols are playing, and the mug is still beside me.

On sitting in a coffee shop

The sounds of chatter and prattle encircle the room. Each a story; telling a story, thinking a story, denying a story. They carry aromas which sift over everyone's head, floating and dancing like the aurora borealis. Dark and light roasts melding into one fragrance. To each her own blend of bitter and sweet to make up the taste in her mouth; the cup in her hands; the movements of her lips and tongue and heart beat.

As they sip simultaneously, she talks to him, she has curled up on the chair, a book in her hands; she hums to the melody in her head; she just sips and stares at the imaginary orchestra above her. Each she's united in taste, understanding each other so much and so little. She wants to graduate; she wants to make them proud; she wants to be loved; she wants to disassociate.

To capture this moment in coffee cups and travel mugs is to embrace their spirits. They come in and leave; ordering for take-out or staring for hours. Each remain in the rafters, until one day the roof with be torn off and the aromas will lift into the air; they will fly away.

And she walks out to be roasted, labeled as house or decaf or french or espresso. Instead of blending, dancing, singing, they will lose their aromas to the frangrance-less void of the outside world.

My Christmas List

Waiting

Silence the wind, we'll sit and we'll wait

Never knowing the next chapter

Does the prince get his bride?

You tell me this word, I've heard and I've heard

But this time it's different

This time its eating me from inside

And not someone on the news.

This time it's you, this time it's me

It's us

I used to be brought to tears

I used to hate it

But it was fictitious, It was the villain in other stories

But now, we're being attacked

Now it's real, and big, and menacing

Now we wait

What can be done when nothing is certain

What can we think, what can we know

There's a ghost in our future

Haunting each move, stealing our life

Sucking us dry

Nothing but this uncertainty directing our path

Nothing but our love holding this together.

Each roll of the dice brings us closer to the edge

We jump the spaces hand in hand

Hand in hand we'll be

Hand in hand we'll wait

For there is nothing else to do

Say No to Gaming!

I've been told that despite my otherwise upbeat attitude, I have an aversion to the notion of video gaming. Although I try to sound sincere when telling friends to "have fun" while gaming, I can't help erasing that sound cynicism out of my voice.

So what is with this animosity consuming me? First and most obvious is the natural unhealthiness which gaming brings to ones life. "Over the last few years, video games have been linked to everything from shooting sprees and epileptic fits... . The latest study into the effects of gaming on the brain comes from Japan... . According to Professor Akio Mori, playing games can reduce activity in part of the brain, causing players to get angry and suffer problems concentrating." It can of course be argued that video gaming can increase reaction time (but hey, if you have no activity in your brain, then what point is good reaction time?) and the one I've heard most recently is to increase social experiences. But it indisputable that there is an incredible dark side.

Somehow I think that the general negativity which the media tends to put forth and that we hear all the time is not the real root of my disgust. Part of me, and a hypocritical part no less, hates the stereotype in my mind that I have of gamers. As one article I've read has suggested, a gamer is "a computer fanatic who will do (and spend) anything to have the latest cutting-edge hardware, and is absolutely single-minded in that rabid pursuit of the "best hardware money can buy". The "gamer" will do whatever it takes to get that extra 2 fames-per-second in the latest shooter game, just to have the slightest edge over his opponents (human or virtual)..." I believe the stereotype extends much further than this though. If I was to draw a picture of a 'typical' gamer, I would make the guy slightly overweight (either that or brutally scrawny) with over-baggy black tees or colourful button-up shirts. He'll have long black straggly hair pulled pack in a ponytail and he is twenty-seven, without a job, and living in his parents unfinished basement. Now, I cringe at writing all this because none of the people I know who play video games male or female fall under this category.

This clearly makes me a hypocrite, because my next "Gaming is about as great as having to pluck out my finger nails one by one" point is how stereotypical it is. So while I rant on, ignore the previous point. Most video games are marketed to younger children and teens (remember, it is those with the most expendable income that advertisers which to speak to. The 'whine factor' is one of the most effective ways to sell a product) and are generally played by young males. Yet these video games are "among the most violent and sexist material on the market today... where a player can make his "monsters" (male) pursue and threaten scantily-clad terrified young women". To add to this portrayal of women being the 'weaker sex', we also have another example of how 'sex sells'. From all the video games I have been introduced to, which I will admit is fairly limited, I have noticed a trend. Almost every single female character I have acquainted has had big busts and tiny waists. This would be one thing if the women were wearing turtlenecks and baggy jeans, but instead in each instance, the video game woman is scantily dressed. The feminine is presented as the ideal feminine archetype which is visible too often in media. It is nothing short of a sex-toy portrayal.

Sure, there is a stigma in our culture about gaming which those who don't game see fairly clearly. But I think for a girlfriend there is an even greater distaste for the gaming world. Due to an upcoming sociology project, I picked up November's issue of Maxim and found an interesting article entitled 100 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT WOMEN. It was a good attempt on the men's side, considering magazines like Cosmo have these littered all through their mags, and I've heard from men that they're always way too in depth and that getting a guy's attention is just so much easier, but having men put an effort on the other side is kind of nice. But I digress. Point being was that even a Men's magazine concerning "Girls. Sex. Sports. Games." can still understand a key point to a girl's psyche.

76. She hates your Xbox more than she lets on. Blow her off for some gaming and she'll soon stop wasting time on a dork like you.

In the past, I've been blown off for gaming, and I think this is the main reason for the sour taste in my mouth.

I am not going to claim complete ignorance when it comes to gaming. I've played Mortal Combat a few times (and won) as well as a few of those James Bond first person shooting games when Jil and Brad and I used to hang out (I was terrible at that.) Although I could simply pass off my dislike for the games as a negative hand-eye coordination problem, but that would be denying my ultimate feelings.

Cosmo also has a bit to say about why I probably dislike gaming in their Cosmo for your Guy section in December's issue.

Your ex had a few redeeming qualities, no doubt, but that doesn't mean your current flame wants to hear about them. In fact, an innocent comment about your ex's culinary skills or love of football could give your girl a serious complex. "When you kid about something a past partner did well or go on and on about a stand out attribute she had, it plants a seed in your present girlfriend's head that she doesn't measure up to this amazing Superwoman," says Bobbie Reid, author of Clueless: Real Solutions for Men who Don't Get It - and the Women Who Love Them.

Needless to say, of course.

Despite it all, I suppose that gaming in moderation is okay, (as it works with most things), however it seems that gaming can begin a slippery slope to addiction. Yeah, I've seen a few of those.

Who wants to keep the doctor away?

On Friday's episode of the Ellen Show, the incredible guests Jennifer Anniston and Kenny Chesney (give me a country singer and I'll watch your show!) were accompanied by TV Guide's Sexiest Man.

My first conscious introduction to Mr Sexy himself was one night last year when I begrudgingly sat down to watch a show someone so desperately wanted to watch. As a smack to my stubbornness, Fox's House M.D. soon became my favorite show.

I say 'conscious' because surprisingly, I have met Hugh before. In fact, as well as being a British soap star, Hugh Laurie has littered children's movies. In 1996's remake of the cartoon 101 Dalmations, we saw Hugh play the infamous Jasper, one of Cruella's men. A year later, my sister's absolute favorite movie (and my least favorite) The Borrowers saw Hugh as the Police Officer. He even played a part in Spice World! I do remember him being the father in Stuart Little and soon, we'll be hearing his voice in the soon to come to theatres cartoon Valiant.

If you haven't already started tuning in to watch House on Tuesday nights at 10:00, then you're really missing out (screw The Amazing Race). And don't just watch Fox for the pretty face. The show is really great too! Mix CSI and ER (or Grey's Anatomy) and you have House. I'd also suggest catching the brilliant Hugh Laurie's British accent if you ever get a chance to. He sounds exactly like Matty! (Or maybe Matty sounds like him!)

*edit*
(Dan thinks I have a crush on both Hugh and Matty. Although they both have fantastic accents and are sexy to boot, I will only admit to being in love with one man.)

To His Mistress Going to Bed

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor, I in labor lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with that wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
Now off with those shows, and then safely tread
In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven's angels used to be
Received by men; thou, angel, bring'st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.

License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds is to be free;
There where my hand is set, my seal shall be.

Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee.
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings, made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see revealed. Then since that I may know,
As liberally as to a midwife show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.

To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
What need'st thou have more covering than a man?

~John Donne, "Elegy 19. To His Mistress Going to Bed"~

Today, we are forced upon the notion that everything has overt sexual tones encompassing them. We are surrounded with all these confusions of sex for love. Yet, Donne catches the perfect vibe between the two. Instead of the erotic passion which hides the lines of love in most things we're used to, he harnesses sex within the borders of love.

The speaker and his mistress are slowly being brought back to a pure Adam and Eve state, before the fall. He is explaining the process of each covering being removed, each part of her outer beauty being shed for him to discover anew the beauty of her natural. There is no one else but the two of them. And he finds her beautiful beyond compare.

We are burdened with our self consciousness, with our baggage and our past stories. And yet, somewhere beneath everything we try to present, we are beautiful. Each mountain and valley is an intricate part to who we are. Maybe what we try to hide, are our greatest treasures.

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. :(