updates

For the past few months, Rod would change Leesa and Stephanie's facebook status any time they were foolish enough to leave their page unattended. A smorgasbord of stati invade their respective friends' news feed. The topics, though varied, would, more often than not, come back to "poop" related jokes. Eventually, Leesa and Stephanie begin to retaliate, changing Rod's facebook to status to poop-centric updates any chance they could. But their revenge was rarely fruitful; anytime Rod's status was changed, everyone would simply write it off as yet another ridiculous Rod antic. He was unstoppable, and, for some reason, impermeable to embarrassment or humiliation.

Frustrated, Leesa and Stephanie began to craft a facebook status that would truly teach Rod a lesson. They crafted a status that hinted at Rod having experienced a potential breakdown, resulting in an extended stay in an unidentified treatment facility. The prank, however, was ill received by the public, with an outpouring of concern and support. Eventually, Leesa's inbox (both computer and text) was flooded with agonized pleas: "Is Rod okay?", "What's going on?", "Is there anything we can do?", et all. The prank resulted in more work than laughs, as Leesa had to respond to every message explaining the joke that had gone horribly awry. Defeated once again, Leesa and Stephanie succumbed to the realization that perhaps there was no way of getting even.

On February 23, 2010 , Rod walked into his bedroom, only to be greeted by a particularly fowl smell. Investigation lead to a terrifying discovery: a mound of poop plopped on his bed sheet, assumed to have been left by the house cat. Shocked, Rod got to cleaning, confused over how and why the cat would commit such an atrocious act. But when attempting to update his facebook status or tweet the event, he was faced with an alarming truth: his Rod antics — his celebration of all things poop, and obsession with the satrically disgusting — would mean that no one (no one) would ever believe him, instead believing the event to be nothing more than a disgusting joke.

Somewhere, Leesa and Stephanie smiled.

and that's what adulthood is: you wake from the nightmare and realize there's no bigger bed to climb into.

I'm sitting in this wonderful, large, plush arm chair that the Abbey litters its comfortable floors with. I love this café; I feel so peaceful and confident when I'm here. I feel like all the things I have to do are so manageable. I haven't been feeling that too much lately, so any place that gives me that kind of comfort is worthy of blogging about/talking about/venting to/crying over.

I think I've been really exasperated recently. I hate the question of what my biggest fear is, mostly because I hate questions that I have no answer to. But recently I've realized that my biggest fear (as in biggest — big, big) is not growing. Not that my fear isn't growing, but that I'm scared of not growing. The idea of not growing absolutely terrifies me, mostly because I'm surrounded by some of the most wonderful people in the world — all of which have managed to change immensely. My classes this quarter have been somewhat underwhelming, but interesting and necessary nevertheless. After my 'Introduction to Film Theory & Criticism' class last quarter, I think everything else is going to just always pale in comparison. It really changed my outlook on film and everything else I hold dear to me. It made me care about my passions differently, and it, without a doubt, helped me grow.

With budget cuts rising, financial aid dwindling and resources become scarce, I've become so much more conscious of my relation to my university. I want to get the most out of my education not just because I desire it, but simply because I pay for it. So when I find myself in an intellectual slump, there is no way it won't cause me to re-think everything around me. But I also think its horrible that I equate personal development with schoolwork, as if the two are mutual exclusive. I've talked to 5 different people about this very idea over just the last two weeks: how to separate our personal growth from academic expectations; personal desires from outside obligations. I shouldn't resent an education that is optional, that I've chosen and that I'm paying for. But I think, more often than not, I do. I look at a syllabus littered with assignments, and I think about all the things I'd rather be reading. I count the number of hours I spend researching papers I have to write, and consider all the experiences I could be having.

I chose not to go abroad because I didn't want to burden of schoolwork to interfere with time I'd rather spend immersing myself in new customs and total strangers. I'm becoming more and more happy with that decision as the year continues on. I think I need these full years spent in one place. The fact that every house I move into constantly feels fleeting (I decorate with the knowledge that they will, again, be packed up in 9 months) is enough to deal with, let alone interrupting it with a semester abroad. My twenty-first birthday gift from the parents is a big one: they said they'd fully fund a trip anywhere, anytime for however long. It's a huge thought, and an even bigger gift. I feel so lucky; it grants me the kind of peace I'm lacking daily sometimes. Supportive family, loving friends, financial freedom (knock on wood), endless opportunities, youth that (at least currently) feels both fleeting and everlasting. So why do I feeling like I'm missing something? Why can't I shake a feeling of emptiness that seems to linger?

I immersed myself in a party last night where 90% of the people in the room were strangers. Spent my time going up to random unknowns asking them what their deal was, attempting to connect with the various party goers.

Of the 7 most noteworthy people I met, 5 of them came from divorced families. Go figure.