I doubt this is cool to anyone else.

I got my hair cut and colored yesterday at the Avada training school downtown. It's much cheaper than an appointment at a "real" (as in classy) salon, they give you free tea and hand massages, and my little stylist Andrea (she looked to be about 18) did a great job.
Now I won't look like a tornado at Jay's wedding.
I came home and took a few pictures to send to the parents. Then I decided to mess around with my little Dell picture program. Witness the results. This is probably really lame to most of you photoshop whores out there, but I actually think they're neat.
This is the original hair cut:

Meet Lucas

NEWS of the week: I bought a hookah.
His name is Lucas. Lucas kind of rhymes with "hookah"... and if you use the French (I think it's French) pronunciation (remove the 's'), it really rhymes with "hookah."



So there you go. If anyone wants to come and hang out with Lucas and me, please let me know. We'd love to have you over.

Reflections

I am now running full force down the dark tunnel - the journey that is graduate school. I fear I will not see the light of day for another few years.
Okay, so it's not THAT horrible. I'm just swamped right now. I have two friends driving down to visit from Minneapolis for the weekend. I'm very excited(!!) and sadly, very nervous. I keep thinking "Do I have time for this? Will I finish my lit review? Will I get those exam questions written? Blah blah blah." (Yes, I'm actually thinking "blah blah blah." This usually happens after several hours of reading.)

Then I remember how important friends are. I am a social creature and I need my social life. Of course I will get things done. I may need to take speed, but I will get things done.

I was studying earlier today at Alterra. http://www.alterracoffee.com/
It's one of the best coffee shops I've ever experienced, and I encourage everyone who visits Milwaukee to check it out (stop by the one by the lake - it's the best).
I had Jack with me (the iPod). Dido's "Life for Rent" came on. I had to stop reading and just listen to the song. (Lyrics here.)
I felt very connected to the lyrics. I think my life is rentable these days.
That's funny, but it makes me a little sad.

I also realized today that my blog is mostly about ME. I guess that's fine, since it's my blog... I can write whatever the hell I want to write. I read my friend Sarah's blog. She writes (very coherently and intelligently) about big (as in important) issues, and I always enjoy her take on things (probably because we're on the same wavelength). Check her out here - she's also linked to my page.
It's neat to see how each one of us who blogs make our spaces uniquely our own. (I can't decide if that grammar is correct or not...)
I like that about people. We each have a voice. The unfortunate thing is that many of us do not know how (or don't care) to use it.

I'm not sure where that came from. Too many thoughts in my head.

Roar

Sometimes I wish I was a cat ... then I could sleep all day (and some of the night), and wake up at stupid times in the morning (like... 7am?) and MEOW REALLY LOUD and wake up poor, tired, unsuspecting grad students who have only been sleeping for three hours.

(I know, I know, whose fault was it that I went to sleep at 3am... mine ... I did have a good reason.)

In other news...
The weather's starting to cool off.
I am a little bit sad right now (probably because I'm overtired).
I miss my friends.

"Are y'all strangers 'round here?"

Random memory of my father:

When I was a little girl, my dad used to play this game with my sister and me.

He'd be sitting in the big chair downstairs watching football or something. We'd tumble down the stairs rambunctiously... "Daddy daddy play with us blah blah blah."

Dad would lean to the side, cock his head and say (in his best southern drawl) "Hey... are y'all strangers 'round here?" We'd saunter around the room, thumbs in our front pockets, doing our best coyboy impressions in our pink stirrup pants and kitten sweaters...

We'd answer (in the best ''southern'' voices little midwestern girls can have) "yep"... "yessir."

Then he'd say "weeell, in that case..." and then he'd raise his arm, form a "gun" shape with his hand and then pretend to shoot us "stranger cowboys."

We'd then get to fake dramatic deaths on the basement floor.

Then we'd make him do it again. And again. And again. Until he missed too much of his football game and decided to shoo us out of the room.

Today I asked my sister if she remembered this game. Of course she did. She also asked me if it was from a movie or something, since it doesn't make any sense at all. As far as I know, we made it up. Weirdos.

Saved by Tom Petty (Again)

Last night I went to see Tom and his Heartbreakers play in Madison. Once again, it was a phenomenal concert. My seat was about 15 feet from the stage on the right hand side (if you're facing the stage).
I could SEE the wrinkles under his eyes. It was amazing to be so close to that band! I kind of didn't know what to do for a while. I had a seat at the end of a row, so I was up dancing the whole time.

I'm also pretty damn sure that Tom said "Hi" to me. He wandered over to our side of the stage during one song and looked at all of the people. I was right across the aisle from a sign language interpreter, and she had a music stand with a light on it so she could read the lyrics and sign them. I was kind of in that light... and I swear on all that is holy that Tom Petty looked at me, in my ecstatic dancing glory and mouthed "Hi." It might have been "yeah"... I don't read lips very well. But that's not the point. There weren't that many people over where I was...
The point is that Tom Petty definitely looked at me and smiled. That I'm sure of.

I know. I'm the biggest nerd in the world.

During the encore, the band went into a long extended version of Mystic Eyes (original by Van Morrison), and during one point, Petty said something to the effect of "Wouldn't it be great, if we could have just one moment... where everything was all right?... Just one moment, where *everything* was all right... I'm going to give you that moment."

And then he did, with a little help from Mike Campbell's *crazy* guitar solo.

So this time around (Petty concert #2), I didn't cry at the beginning... I cried at the end. Just a little bit.

Because although it was just for a few precious minutes, everything was all right.

Honesty for you in the form of several disjointed thoughts

I suddenly feel like writing about this. I want to be open about it and hear what other people have to say - other experiences, thoughts... whatever.

I don't really want pity. I have friends I can call for that. Last night was rough, and I'm sure I'll have more rough nights related to this topic. Right now though, I'm okay.

Last week my father went into the clinic for a "check up." He was acting very strange - he was constantly confused, asking the same questions over and over again. Then he had a sharp, stinging pain on the back of his head.
Diagnosis - brain tumor.
I called my mother the evening after the "check up" to see what the outcome was. She says "Well, Dad has a big, old brain tumor.''

I'm still not quite sure what that means.

I was surprised... I was so sure they'd find something wrong with him related to all of his other problems we already know about... the PTSD, depression, the drinking.
Unfortunately (and obviously), brain tumors aren't something doctors normally test for and generally aren't discovered until someone develops specific symptoms.

The biopsy results aren't in yet and won't be in until Wednesday. For now, we're in limbo.

Generally... so far... I'm okay. This whole thing made my first week of graduate school even more overwhelming, but I'm tough and I didn't shrivel up and die. I thought about melting. But I didn't.
I'm trying my best (and succeeding, mostly) to keep my head in "reality" (where ever that is) and deal with every situation as it arises... and not worry about all of the possible things that could happen.

My dad and I have never been very close. We don't really see eye to eye. It's not that we don't get along, we just don't talk much. I recently went out to Cape May with him to visit his side of the family. (He's from Philly.) It was a very rewarding trip in a sense that I learned quite a bit about him that I'd never known before. I wonder how this new revelation will alter our relationship.


This is a horrible picture, but it's the only current one on my computer of my father and me.
(Just thought I'd give you a visual...)




In other news, school has taken over my life. I love it. Don't get me wrong, it's stressful and intimidating and a LOT of work. Honestly though, that's why I'm here. I love sociology.
I've started to meet people. Sort of. Developing connections and friendships with people is a process. It takes time. I am impatient. It'll happen though. I'm confident that I'm not too much of a psycho and will eventually find people who want to hang out with me.

That was supposed to be funny. I hope my sarcasm comes through in my writing. Hmm...

In other news (again), I've become a constant consumer of tea (courtesy of my roommate). I have at least one cup per day. I used to be too impatient to drink tea. I'd never let it steep enough before trying to drink it.

I think that's about enough for tonight. I might go READ.

On a more serious note...

For the first time in a looooong time, I thought about praying.

I didn't actually do it yet. I *just* thought about it... like 2 minutes ago.

That's very strange... I have some major issues with organized religion, and I'm generally confused about the "higher power" idea.

But at times like these, all I can do is sit down, cry, and pray.

Damn.

SQUIRREL

*Sigh*

So, my life...

I survived my first week of grad school. It was a crazy, rough week. I feel okay right now though.

Last night was my first night out (as in out to bars and restaurants until waaay past my bedtime). I went out with the Comm grad students. Yeah, I don't know. Where are my Soc people?
We ate mexican and had some wonderful margaritas.
Then we played catch phrase.
Then we went out and had a few shots (someone was buying rounds).
Someone's boyfriend lost his credit card. Another someone got so drunk that he was getting the chills and someone else had to walk him home. (I know, this is a lot of "someones.")

In the end, the remaining three of us went to grab some food at... another mexican restaurant. Then I went home only to discover that my roommate had brought her parent's cat to stay with us for the week (the parents are out of town).
This cat is the neediest animal I've ever met. He cried all night. Laura = sleep deprived... which is probably why this post is so disjointed.

The biggest event of the evening is when I came rushing home from the Grad Student Welcome to change before dinner and found a SQUIRREL in our pantry.
A SQUIRREL!! He'd broken through the screen, and I found him sitting guiltily amidst chocolate candy wrappers and nibbled-on baking chocolate, bags of nuts, and a broken bag of chocolate cake mix. It was a complete mess, but I had to leave for dinner so I didn't fully clean it up.

This morning I got out of bed at 10am. My roommate stumbled home at 8am after a night of too much fun (she's not normally a heavy drinker). I went to get some cereal out of the pantry and found the whole bottom shelf covered with ants! Seriously.

Now it's almost noon, and I still haven't started reading. This isn't good.

A Brick Wall Adventure

Well, damn. It finally happened. I was starting to get anxious about it happening, and now I'm wondering if that anxiety had a part in helping it along.

On Tuesday night, I had one of my old "freak outs." (Actually not as horrible as it sounds.)

I've noticed that whenever I begin something new, within the first two weeks, I breakdown and cry... mostly out of frustration, fear, loneliness... whatever. It doesn't happen very much - don't worry, I don't need any professional help

I lasted slightly longer than two weeks this time. But then on Tuesday night, after a lengthy, exhausting first day of classes, a really random evening, and after being mauled by my landlord's skittish cat, I was just done being excited and happy.
I guess it was just time for my brain to flush out all of my built up worries.

So this time, instead of locking myself in my room and using up an entire box of kleenex, I actually called someone. Yeah, are you suprised? I (finally) decided to take the advice I've received so much - that I have good friends who will help me out and not think I'm too much of a freak for getting upset over something as small as a cat scratch.

Blah blah blah. Anyway, I had a great phone conversation while sitting out on the front steps. I felt a lot better and suddenly understood that famous line that says something about your friends knowing you and loving you anyway. My good friends know I'm kind of a psycho, and I'm happily suprised that they don't seem to mind.

It got late, and I figured I should try to sleep. I found my headphones, put in some Floyd. No, all was not completely well in the world, but I know that that's okay.

So... I'd felt like I was running full speed down a dark alley and had suddenly hit a brick wall. (Yeah, ouch.) All I really had to do was open my eyes and reach out. It was that easy to find a hand to help me stand up and also to show me the little door in the corner - the way around the wall that I'd missed while I was running so fast.

Another Beginning

Today is the first day of classes.

That's weird. I wonder how many first days of classes I will have in my lifetime. Probably quite a few if I become a professor. Right now I don't want to be a professor.

I can't decide if I'm more nervous or excited, and at the moment I'm not feeling too much of either one. I'm more worried about where I'm going to go for lunch and my current lack of funds.

Happy Sociology!!