the truth is

whereas i should be sitting here doing homework because my desk is buried amongst papers, cnn in the background continues to steal my attention. of course, there is no need to repeat of the tragedy that has taken place over the past few days in the united states, but i cant help but tear up over the drama of hurricane katrina and her aftermath.

friday, a student and staff columnist of the school's paper (the technician) wrote an opinion piece (key word) on sorority girls. he titled his piece "sorostitutes: the weak and the wounded" and after name-calling and stereotyping, he caused a riot on my campus early this week. students were enraged by his words, writing back columns, contacting lawyers for legal guidance, and talking with journalism professors about the ethical guidelines of the student newspaper. yesterday, the newspaper was flooded with "letters to the editor," some in support of the article, others just mainly pointing their own fingers. in my law class, we "debated" (i sat and listened while my lawyer of a professor highly ticked off the sorority girls in class) the issue for a good twenty minutes. today, when i picked up the newspaper, the front cover was full of girls in red shirts saying "go greek" all holding signs in a campus-wide protest that took place monday afternoon at 4:30pm. the girls weren't allowed to speak, but they were allowed to bring signs and applaud and cheer those who were. i didnt go, and i dont regret that decision.

however, today in journalism class i walked in and sat down beside a "go greek" girl rhetorically brawling it out with a non-greek girl who supported the penmanship of this particular columnist. the sorority girl, of course, used her usual "how would like it if someone said this, this and this about you..." whereas the average girl responded, "everyone gets things said about them. move on and stop worrying about it."

truth is, you most likely knew these stereotypes when you joined the sorority. same ways you hear blondes are dumb, left-handers are freaky and redheads are odd balls. (for the record, i am left-handed.) basically, all in all im saying is things get said no matter what. he had the right to say it, you have the right to respond. move on.

but i didnt want to start writing this in an attempt to stir up another riot, for the same reason that i dont talk to students on campus about this outcry of womens equality (or whatever you want to call it.) but, the non-greek girl made a very valid point today. she said "dont you think we have something better that we could be discussing?"

and truth is, we do.
if you make a product and send it out to a hundred people, and 75 of those people hate it, they are going to tell 75 others how bad it is. however, those 25 people who actually like the product, may only get around to telling a handful of others. (its something ive picked up working in the business world.)
why is it that we are more likely to point out our flaws (or someone elses for that matter) a thousand times over the successes in life?

today, hundreds of people are dying at the hands of a natural disaster. when the tsunami hit sri lanka in december, the world tuned in day and night to watch the disaster unfold. i remember crying over the stories, writing checks and wondering what i could do to help. today, there are thousands of people, thousands of americans, without homes- some standing on top of them waiting to be rescued, some not sure if they ever will be. one man has killed himself, jumping off the 2nd level of the superdome where over 50,000 people are present without power, food, water, anything. just a minute ago, i sat and watched as two children under the age of 4 were placed into a wire basket no bigger than a shopping cart and lifted off the top of a rooftop up toward a u.s. coast guard helicopter. my heart stopped.

yes, we're concerned about the price of gas going up, and yes no one wants to deal with it- but isnt there something more important in life today? i promised i wouldnt take a political stand, and only use my blog to whine if i entertained, but the truth is- today my compassion level is shattered because in the heart of the united states, disaster has taken precedence. im not urging you to do anything whereas im not sure what we can even do, but i am asking you to break away from the greek riots and other childish things and turn on the tv to see what really is happening in the world- in your world.

and maybe, just maybe you too will realize that boat shoes and popped up collars dont matter at all.

you can have my cake and eat it too

it was 12:30 in the morning and my friend had just im me. “i’m coming to visit you. i’m on my way.” sadly enough, my first thought wasn’t “sweet, i have company coming,” but instead, “oh no- you can’t do that. i’ve got to go to sleep now.”

today in class, my friend who sits behind me taps me on the shoulder and says, "we're having birthday cake at my house tonight. you should come by." i smiled and nodded then turned around thinking "get real linds, you don't have time for cake. you can have my cake and eat it too."

after class, i got a phonecall. "come to dinner with us. eight o'clock sharp. don't be late." i wondered if i should just pretend i never got the message or call him back with a random excuse i pulled out of a hat. "um, i have a major headache and i think i need to lay down." "my mom just called and talked so long i forgot what time it was." or the beloved "i have car trouble."

truth is, i had car trouble. gas was too freakin' expensive to even consider driving somewhere to pay for something else. the news talks about gas "soon to become a hardship for people." soon to become? hell, what type of people were they talking about? ceo's, presidents and bank owners? since i bought my handy-dandy ford guzzling of an explorer oh so many years ago, its been a hardship. the only thing was 20 bucks used to do the job fueling my car and fueling me. now, im spending 50 bucks just to get to the next gas station. where was my bike when i needed it?

why is it that we work to buy gas to get back to work?
why is it that we work to make money to spend time with friends, yet when it comes time to spend with friends, we have to go back to work?

its true, i am lazy and the thought of driving somewhere extra sometimes doesnt excite me at all. sometimes i prefer just to come home, put on pajamas, hang out with my dvr and wait on my phone to ring. but it never fails, that when i get that phonecall to hang out, im just "too tired to go." where oh where, has my social life gone?

for the night, i wasn't so sure. but i knew one thing- i sat quitely at my dinner table alone with a plate of veggies in the comfort of my home and pajamas, the vmas were recorded and ready to be watched on dvr, birthday cake remained hidden in the fridge, and somewhere close by was my phone just waitng to ring.

and then there were none

a little over a week ago, i decided that life sans a roommate wasn't all it was prepped up to be. never did anyone want to talk, laugh or cry- and the thought of having a slightly empty refrigerator never made dinner time exciting. therefore, i did what any normal, and might i add sane, single twenty-something girl would do to solve the solo situation. about twenty minutes later, i proudly owned five bright orange goldfish, all yet to be named. leaving petsmart with my individually charged 25 cents goldfish (thanks to the one cent reduction unexpectedly given at the register due to my petsperk card), i thought i had just made the best relationship decision possible. they would listen to me without tuning me out, and never would i have to listen to them. a one sided relationship- sounded perfect to me.

one by one, my planned failed. my dearest friends and relationship companions, decided living a life built around me wasn't necessarily their idea of paradise. granted- paradise consisting of swimming in a rectangle bowl with sharp black rocks at the bottom couldn't be joyous anyway. (maybe i should have used vodka instead of water allowing them to at least drink their sorrows away.) yet as the days were ripped off my calendar my buddies slowly drifted to the top. at first, i blamed my inability to keep a relationship on abandonment. had i really fed them or did i just walk away forgetting? when had i last purified their water? then around and around, i watched ex number one go down the drain.

all of this led me to think about my actual relationships in life. was it possible that we tend to make our relationships with other people based on the idea of making ourselves happy? are we in them to benefit just us or are we in them to benefit both persons involved? and if the relationship isn't working- do we work on it or simply abandon it?

i had a close friend one time that loved to make relationships based on his success. and for the longest time, i somehow managed to follow along, taking him places, buying him things, doing things with no importance to mine own. i thought i was happy, i realized one check too late that i had been picked in order to complete his one sided relationship. when he got tired of me, he simply abandoned me leaving me wondering what in the world had just happened. he was the owner, and i was the stupid goldfish.

so when i saw that buddy number one was no more, i decided to step up my involvement in the relationship and pay particular attention to their needs. had they been fed? check. was their water clean? semi-check. did i leave the light on for them? check, and i was even paying the electricity bill. surely, this relationship would work now-

it didn’t. two and three died the next day.

so i went back to my relationship analogy- is it possible that when a relationship isn't working, we simply spice it up a little bit with things we really aren't interested in doing at all? like the time you get in a fight with your girlfriend and she says "i hate when you wear that shirt. it's hideous and i don't know why you like it." you wouldn't even consider wearing it the next time you went out- would you? or your boyfriend calls you one night and he's like, "you know what- i just don't think you enjoy me nearly as much as i enjoy you." so you do what you think you're expected to do, and you immediately start flooding the conversation with over-produced love proclamations and actions that you hope will work. but is doing anything that you wouldn't naturally do mean that you care or love him or her more? in a relationship, should you really need to prove you care?

the next day, i was positive things were going to go well. my two remaining goldfish were swimming around and drinking water all day long. they looked healthy and however a goldfish is supposed to look when they are happy, they looked. i fed them, i leaned on my counter and watched them; i felt like even saying "hello" to them would make them want to live even longer.

four died.

at this point, im thinking anything that gets close to me dies and i fear for company to even walk in my haunted house. for heaven's sake, i can't even keep a one-sided relationship going and all these stupid things require is a little food and a lot of water.

no love, per say, needed.
that’s when i decided maybe love is exactly what this relationship needed.
"the most important thing in life is to love and be loved in return."
so without further ado, i expressed love in the only way how- by naming my lone ranger.
uno.

you see, i have this underlined policy that you don't name anything you don't want to get close to. it started with baby dolls back when in childhood, carried on to pets and even into material things (i.e. ben my computer). in my world, if it gets a special name, it’s just simply that. special.

so it was destiny, uno was going to live because he had moved over into the specialized name ranking. that night, i went out to dinner with three friends and one new one for some social interaction beyond my walls. i don't think i shut-up the entire evening and my smile couldn't be contained due to the excitement the evening with respectable friends endured. in that moment, i had someone to talk to- including someone who would tune me out when my stories bored, someone to laugh with and someone to listen to. all of which i then understood were life's commodities we often took for granted.

when we came home that evening, i watched out of the corner of my eye little uno start to dwindle. for a minute, i sat there and watched, wondering why my last love was going to die in company of my company. then we tried to revitalize him, taking him out of his environment and placing him in a smaller, cleaner one for the evening. he started to swim around in the small space and i truly believed he was going to survive. therefore, i continued to enjoy the evening with my friends.

this morning, uno too had left his paradise and my world. and like a bad fight, there was no explanation to his exit. but that’s ok, because the relationship was one-sided and they didn't want to commit.

all of this, leads me to my point. maybe if we can't find someone to commit to the person we are today, then they aren't going to like the person we are tomorrow. if we can't find someone who will take us for our bad shirts, our unsaid compliments, our imperfections in addition to our strengths, then maybe it's a relationship we shouldn't even begin to initiate. while i may be one willing to change, i don't think that we should allow ourselves to end up in something that doesn't benefit both of us, every minute of everyday. because like the ceo and president of cross advertising told me just the other day, "if you can't live your life everyday thinking this day was worth every minute of my time, then what's the point of waking up?"

and sometimes it may take the lesson in five cheap goldfish to obtain the value in four special friends.

thirty imaginary friends

it was three o’clock on the dot and i sat in my desk panting after practically sprinting to class. (ok, i lied. i definitely don’t sprint and running late is nothing out of the ordinary for me. but i figured second day impressions were still under evaluation so i try.)

by three fifteen, impatient upperclassmen are looking at their watches and wondering what is going on. what day is it? what time is it? am i in the right classroom? do i recognize any of these people? it’s then, the uncomfortable shuffling for schedules begins whereby of course, i observe everything because i know that these same students will never be so bold as to pull out a schedule in a room of upperclassmen. i hear it’s the ultimate social suicide.

so they quietly unzip book bags and purses, lean down close to their belongings (always with that confused head tilt) acting as if they are simply looking for a pen lost within their perfect organization of the bag. because heaven forbid should they even attempt open that classic, wrinkled and folded twice white piece of paper (or even turn it upright for that matter), so instead they will just guesstimate on what course, day, time and room they belong in.

eventually, they sigh in relief knowing they are in the right room.
social suicide avoided.
(so they think.)

by three twenty, the understood yet undefined rule of giving up on a professor is unofficially enacted as one student throws his notebook into his bag, zips it up while slinging it over his shoulder and storms out of the room as almost in a protest to say: “well forget this! i’ll show him who’s boss- i’m out of here.”

if only the actual professor had been there to witness this over-dramatized gesture.

but second by second, students drop like flies and i watch as the class dwindles from thirty... to twenty... to ten.
why on earth am i still even sitting here?

oh right, because i was late and now i’m mad that i rushed at all.

so as the story goes, just when i was preparing my oscar winning performance of stomping out of the classroom in a crazed state to out perform the original, my dear law professor of whom i love so much appeared in the doorway with the sincerest apologies.
why, oh, why does it always unfold that way?

i looked around the room in sheer disbelief after concluding i was soon to be stuck with the remaining six fellow classmates whom i had intentionally labeled as the annoying intellectuals that screw up the twenty minute “no show, no go” rule.

then i realized i was the seventh member of the club.
i was mortified.

had i really sunk to the level of becoming the very student prototype i despised?

i shook off the thought (knowing it was most likely true) and continued to gather my belongings. there was no way my professor was going to teach class with seven out of forty students present, 45 minutes into a 75 minute lecture.

apparently i was wrong.
wouldn’t have been the first time today.

he gave notes, he gave a lecture.
he even took role.

twenty minutes later, my irritated look was replaced by one of bafflement. had i seriously just sat through a law lecture with a handful of other “i’m the good student because i am here to learn no matter what” students?

i had and i did.
social suicide achieved.
thus, i pulled out my schedule and walked into the hallway.

the sex and the city episode you didn't see

“the party starts at 4:30, elmo will be here at 5. see you tomorrow.”
click.

of course i arrived at jordan’s 2nd birthday party the next day the usual fashionably late, but only after first selecting the perfect attractive (not scandalous) outfit. as i pulled up to the brand-new simpson estate i wondered if my black stilettos would successfully make it up the waterfall coming down the driveway due to the second flood taking place outside.

“just go home” the devil on my right shoulder said.
“hey lindsay- come in through the garage,” my host said.
“too late,” the angel on my left gleefully said.

upon entering i took off my shoes and dried off with the crisp white towel handed to me and i realized i was worried more about my bronzer coming off than the impression i would make on the people gathered behind the wall. i turned the corner to be immediately greeted by the diamond-filled hands and bulging bellies of several pregnant thirty something women, where latched on to their legs stood their perfectly dressed, lacoste-shirt-wearing toddlers looking at me in utter confusion wondering “hey where’s your kid, lady?”

not for a long time i said under my breath.
not for a very long time.

as if this wasn’t enough for any single gal, i continued my walk through the kitchen into the living room to find the unattractive husbands of these vogue women lounging on the leather furniture watching golf. on one hand, it appeared as if their wives had dressed them and forced them to come. on the other, i knew it was true.

bad post-shaggy hair days yet still have shaggy hair?
check.
one size too big, all the wrong color and matches your toddler’s polo shirt?
check.
wrinkled and way too short khakis?
check.
beer in hand?
check. check.

just as i was looking for the bright red exit sign i heard “lindsay- grab a beer; they’re in the cooler.”
never a martini so strong existed.

after saying hello to the adult babies on the couch (and realizing they were only checking out my left hand) i quickly found my way to the staircase in a mere attempt to find sanity amongst the two-year-olds. up the stairs and around the corner, i walked into a playroom bigger than a mcdonald’s playplace.

complete with a damn moon bounce.
what ever happened barbie dolls and kitchen sets?

i peeked into the room to say hello to jordan whereas upon her seeing me she cried “momma. momma.” great, she assumed i was coming to baby-sit and her mom was leaving for the day. i laughed off the awkward entrance in a desperate attempt to shake the embarrassment of walking in a room where people other than toddlers were present. damn, i couldn’t get away from the stepford wives anywhere. never in my life had i been checked out so many times in one place simply to wonder either A: what my ring looked like, B: who my boyfriend or husband was, or C: where my children were.

could this perfect house, perfect spouse, perfect family of a world not comprehend the idea of a collegiate baby-sitter?

so i left the breeding room of future perfects and walked willfully around the rest of the manor only to run into the world’s largest closet complete with more clothes than the vogue closet. i thought i had died and went to heaven.

and for a moment, wished i had.

then in a moment, reality came back rudely when i heard sesame street music along with the sounds of little toddler feet racing downstairs. unfortunately thinking i had seen it all, i can not fully explain the emotions tied with the sight of seeing a six foot tall, hairy red elmo dancing alone in the middle of the living room floor to the ABC’s. the gap babies were terrified and left clinging to their golf course mothers all the while the fraternity men tipped their beer bottles.

it was official.
i was dying a slow death.

soon after elmo scared the hell out of the children (and sadly enough, me too), and the presents were open and the cake was digested- i found my single existence in a married world was needed no more. i said good-bye to the birthday girl who seemed just as happy to see me leave as i felt to say good-bye and slipped on my shoes at the door. i walked outside and out of the garage to see the sun peeking through the clouds and when i looked down at my feet i saw they were in just as much pain as my head.

and just like a single girl does after a long night with her girlfriends, i took off my shoes and began to walk away.

construction, construction everywhere

it’s official- the number one way to make a senior look like a freshman one her first day is to take out the familiarity of her campus. yesterday, i couldn't have arrived more confident than i seemed when i unexpectedly slammed on breaks due to a new stop sign. great, perfect year to actually do something about the traffic. if that wasn't enough- my favorite graffiti tunnel was closed, making me look stupid and sending me all the way around my elbow to get to my knee. confidence deflated.

ergo, i pulled out my schedule.

the first day wasn't so bad, that is if sitting through 75 minutes of awkward "should i know him?"’s followed by the mental notes of "just shut-up and let me leave"’s is somehow entertaining to you. i prefer simply to sign my name, take my syllabus and be on my way, thank you. but no, my communication law teacher thought the first day of class should also be the first day of my upcoming carpal tunnel syndrome. "new york times vs. sullivan" he said- what is this?

a court case.
sounded like a good answer to me.

“anyone?”
“anyone know the answer?”

still thinking mine was good enough, i started to look down at my blank notebook in an attempt to look busy.

finally, a girl raised her hand and broke the silence. what followed was her five minute detailed explanation of an ancient court case that somehow defined the first amendment. what followed then was my mouth gaping in wide-disbelief that this student had just randomly spit the proper (and quite intellectual information) out of her mouth on the first day of class.

immediately, i thought of dropping.

i didn't plan to be a lawyer anyway, and "nonverbal communication" has got to look just as good on a resume as "law," right?

wrong.

he continued to dialogue with her, asking her question after question about this case. sure enough, she answered them all- not with "i don't knows" and "maybes," but strong, definite answers. somehow, i wished i had the same confidence- but i blamed the free expression tunnel blockade instead.

"if i asked you the same thing in class, could you give me the same answer?" my genius of a law professor then asked.

wrong again.

"well, by the end of this class you will be able to. the student who just answered my question is not enrolled in this class. [whew] actually, she is not even a student at this university. [shut up] ...she is a graduate of the university of north carolina chapel hill. [huh? boo.] ...she is currently a ph.d student at ohio state university [what? get out.] ...oh, and she is my daughter. [are you kidding me?]..."

i was punked.
confidence in my intelligence regained.
confidence in my common sense lost.

the next classes were not nearly as bad, i just expected to be punked every opportunity a professor asked a question. "what's your name?" "um...i don't know. do you need a detailed response or will lindsay just do?" i was on-edge the remainder of my first days, and the damn crossword puzzle was hard- or i'm just that out of practice.

but my last class, advanced news writing, probably held the most interesting imagery moment of the week. i came in ready to be done with school already by the second day and sat in the freshly painted, newly carpeted room beside some chick way too white to have just gotten back from a two month vacation and more talkative than i planned to be on the first day. without any hesitation, the minute i sat down she looked at me and said "where are all the cute journalists?"

“hi, what’s your name” would have been just fine with me.

immediately, without even thought i felt as if i was no longer a student at the fine institute of nc state, but a plastic in mean girls desperately looking for the hot guys to flirt with. while looking around the room, i realized i had picked today to be my sweat pants day- and it wasn't friday. (luckily, i hadn't used my one day to wear my hair in a ponytail. whew, close call.) but, had the moment not have been entertaining in itself (for the mere point that i had just "met" this girl) i imagined the room turning into some crazy jungle scene where everyone was pouncing on one another like wild animals.

that's when i realized i watched too much tv.

"they don't exist i'm afraid..." i said, knowing good and well that after three years of journalism classes, the cute boys were enrolled at another fine institute.

i'm standing on the edge of all that i've ever known.

have you ever moved so many possessions into your new place that your neighbors probably assumed an entire family was moving in? have you ever received double takes at wal-mart not because of your looks, but because of your cart? have you ever felt depressed when you check your mail on the first day where waiting patiently for you are three bills due in two weeks? have you ever went out and bought a night light because turning off all the lights and going to bed seemed awful lonely?

then again, have you ever smiled even when no one's around because you know that the keys in your hand open the door to your own private world?

i have.
i did.

last night was my first night in my new apartment, alone. it was the first night of locking the door, setting the alarm, turning off all the lights, brushing my teeth and crawling into bed all the while knowing that no one would come in and bother me. i would hear no other ringtones other than my own, listen to no other music than my favorite songs, watch no other shows than those i wished. and for a moment- i was satisfied.

that's when i realized my cabinets were bare.

the leap

“because that's what people do. they leap and hope to God they can fly. because otherwise- you just drop like a rock, wondering the whole way down... why in the hell did i jump?”

while time has passed since i last recorded, nevertheless has my life seemed anything but ordinary. a celebration of independence instantaneously became a tragic reminder of life’s limitations after a dear family member of mine found life too long and assistance too unattainable. the moments hollywood perfects often create unchangeable imperfections within my reality, and although i can sense the emotion during a suicidal fictional character’s funeral, i cannot begin to term the reality buried in the actuality. of course questions will remain, unintentional blame will never be properly established and that lingering “what if” will always stand in the way. but for some reason my aunt wanted to take a leap... maybe to prove life’s brevity, maybe to shun life’s difficulty.

the weeks thereafter seemed all too blurry, yet full of tragedy. i spent those days listening to young girls cry over rapes and abortions and wrote letters to those who had lost loved ones all the while coping with those who couldn’t hit life’s latest curve ball. it seemed unfair to laugh at a comic line when others stood mourning and wondering; it seemed impossible to explain my smile amongst my tears; it seemed unsympathetic to move on when worlds stood still. that’s when i realized life doesn’t ever wait around on you to become comfortable. and while situations arise that slow us down, there can never be a moment when we aren’t looking for the next thing to take our breath away- that next leap.

some of you may find your inspirations in a book, through uplifting songs and encouraging proverbs but, i tend to believe that inspiration lies in the heart of risks and risks involve leaping. for my aunt, her leap attempted to reunite her broken world; for my friends, their leaps hoped to rediscover life amidst uncertainty. ...and somewhere along the way they all figured out how to fly.

...now i’ll be completely honest in saying that i planned to end my entry here, but seeing that it was completely depressing i fear i must push forward to elude my point. maybe none of us know when we’re going to be faced with another leap or maybe we have no way of knowing the depth below or if rock or sand awaits perchance our wings fail us. either way, we are the only ones who can control whether it's a leap for flight or a fall for destruction.

just today, i was talking life with one of my friends when we came across the inevitable future plans. what began as a lesson in creative writing eventually transformed into questioning career directions. he plans to study medicine because of the promise of stability even though he has a passion for film and critique. he knows he would be amazing at it, yet doubts his ability to be successful in the entertainment world. and in that moment, i was completely envious of the brains to perform something other than what the heart was passionate toward. because personally, i don’t ever remember a specific moment when i woke and said “i want to be a writer.” instead, my brain became a mere check list of things i couldn’t do and writing was what remained. some call it a blessing, i call it a miracle in disguise. i didn’t want to preach to him or to tell him that he was doing things all with the wrong motives because in doing so i would be misdirecting him.

but, i hope he grasps the ability he holds within his hands- to be successful at something he can do or to be passionate about something that would make him a success. and i hope that he eventually realizes the power he too, holds to leap.