Charley horses. Childbirth. Cheeseburgers.

Last night, I had just woken up from a strange dream in which I had given birth and then made myself a cheeseburger. Then (while I was awake) some metaphorical, diabolical iron fist grabbed hold of my left calf muscle and attempted to squeeze all the muscle juices out of it. Otherwise known as a charley horse.

Basically, I was lying in my bed for however long it lasted, whimpering like the way my Labradoodle does when she can't find a place to hide her chewy bone. When I woke up this morning, my leg was tighter than the JoBros' pants. I felt like such a gimp limping around my room, taking my clothes off so I could limp to the shower.

Maybe this was some weird way of making up for the fact that when I gave birth in my dream, I didn't feel a thing. I do want kids someday, but I don't think any kid I could make would be worth that much pain. Sorry baby, mamaleh needs an epidural, and we'll all be happier because of it. I'm definitely going to be one of those in your face pregnant ladies who bitchslaps anyone dumb enough to preach natural childbirth to me. Also, that cheeseburger I made and ate after having a baby was mad tasty. Especially considering I fashioned it on something resembling the panini machine in SAGA (the dining hall for any non-Hampshire people reading this.)

Speaking of awesome food I make, the HampStore finally restocked their Annie's microwaveable mac and cheese. I celebrated by making two packs of it once SAGA closed (at the unholy hour of 7pm) and I was feeling peckish. I was a little out of practice since the HampStore had been out of stock; to my utter relief I was able to get the perfect water to noodle ratio sans measuring cup.

Oh Christ when did it become 19 minutes to Tuesday? I'd better think about starting some of that reading. Or maybe I'll just go to bed early and read the stuff in the morning. We'll see.

Peace, Love, and Semicolons,
Lisa

Bitch drinks with nice ladies.

Last night I went to my friend Ali's dorm and did some serious female bonding. It was all part of my lady a capella group's mandatory bonding session. It was really nice to spend some time with them, and it was also so nice to get off campus for a while. Also, the Smith dorms are huge. Ali lives in a single that could legitimately fit two Hampshire singles. Dorms, not people. Although if we're talking people, we managed to fit four Hampshire single (ladies) in Ali's dorm. The Smith dorms are also pretty classy with their wood floors and window panes. Overall, it was an excellent location for us to drink raspberry Svedka with lemonade, eat olive pizza and mozzarella sticks, and get happy enough to talk about men, our tits, and our menstrual cycles. So I pretty much morphed into a Smith student for a few hours.

I actually looked at Barnard College in New York, and almost applied early decision. The idea of going to a women's college was pretty alluring at times. Being part of some sisterhood of smart, successful women seemed like a pretty good deal. But I ultimately decided to forgo it in favor of avoiding an estrogen overload. Last night though, felt like what I wanted women's college to be like. Just a few nice ladies sitting in a dorm, listening to Swedish pop music and finding a whole lot of common ground.

Peace, Love, and Semicolons,
Lisa

An annotated to-do list.

1. Read chapters I-XIX of "The Emperor's Tomb" by Joseph Roth, and Chapter Six of "Budapest 1900" by John Lukacs for my class titled: "Coffehouses, Catastrophe, and Culture: East Central Europe in a Century of Upheaval." It's a pretty interesting course with a fabulous name. The professor is a bit difficult to follow at times, and there's a lot of reading but I like taking a class in something I really don't know much about. Maybe that's why I have a hard time with the readings. The history we're learning about is so complex, and I have no context for it. In a few weeks I'll have to synthesize all this information I've been trying to grasp into a paper, and I don't know how I'll do that. It just feels like all these tidbits right now. Ah well, at least the Roth book has a cover that will surely make me look sexy when I inevitably retreat to a coffee shop to make myself read it. Holy Moses I am such a tool sometimes.

2. Keep looking for paid summer internships, write cover letters for them. I hate writing cover letters. Them and resumes are probably the only form of writing that I honestly don't enjoy. Their sole purpose is to make it easier for someone else to judge my worth. But at least I'm flexible in what I'll be doing. I just want to find an organization that has a mission I'm passionate about, so I can get coffee and sweep floors for a small stipend and still feel good about myself. My current number one choice is being a Print Intern at StoryCorps. Their offices are in Brooklyn, so it would be a bit of a hike from where I live, but I so love what they do. As a Print Intern I would get to work closely with the stories they collect, and even pick ones to be featured in the books and CDs. Talk about inspiration for a writer. Plus, they'd give me a stipend to cover food, Metrocards, and train tickets.

3. CLEAN MY ROOM. Oh Lord, this is important. I think that once I get this done everything else will fall into place. Right now, there is a pile of clothes on my chair that is taller than my bed; my desk and dresser are receptacles for otherwise homeless objects. The funny thing is, I'd probably clean my room if it wasn't so messy. It's just overwhelming now. If I had a roommate, she'd probably have a blog about how messy I am, and keep posting pictures of my side of the room.

That was cathartic. I'm sure if I wracked my brain some more I could think of more shit I need to do, but I'll spare everyone. I will say though, that I was listening to Sigur Ros while writing that list, and it made it a lot less stressful than it could have been. They sure do make beautiful music to do everything to. Except have sex. I don't think I could ever have sex to Sigur Ros. All that soaring falsetto would make things a bit awkward.

Peace, Love, and Semicolons,
Lisa

An introduction of sorts.

After spending an inordinate amount of time figuring out exactly the right color scheme, I am finally getting around to writing this first post. I've just made a slightly belated New Years resolution to write more, and I think I might actually be able to keep it. I've already been acquiring a myriad of pretty notebooks that I'm slowly but surely filling. That's them on the left, perched precariously atop my head.

I've always loved to write, you see. Ever since I was a kid who talked through stories to myself. But I fell tragically out of practice in high school, because the school I went to just didn't have enough opportunities for me to work on getting better. With the exception of a few sporadic, creative assignments, and a personal narrative class in my senior year, I spent four years writing essays on topic that, for the most part, I didn't give two shits about. So I was pretty amped to get to college and seriously pursue creative writing. I see it as the first step to becoming a novelist/essayist/poet/playwright/screenwriter/short story master. I want to do it all. For now, I'm taking on as many writing projects as I can.

My TA actually was the one who made me want to write a blog. In our "Writing About Families" class last semester, I found out she wrote a blog and I started reading it. I had always wanted to have a blog, but I've gone to small schools my whole life and was worried that me having a blog would cause unnecessary drama. But when I read my TA's blog, I realized that you can go to a small school and write a witty, personal, and all around lovely blog without being inflammatory towards anyone or anything. You can even rant and not be offensive.

So now I have a blog. I'll write things about my life, ideas, how I spend my days, and whatever else strikes my fancy. I'll be trying to organize the chaos as well, for I am a lady of the organized chaos.

Peace, Love, and Semicolons,
Lisa