But a Blood Pressure Spike Nonetheless

The Scene: Alii and I, chillin' on the couch, enhancing our educational experience, happy, calm, minding our own business. 9:15 pm

Door Buzzer.

Mia: Hello? Buzzer: Can we check our laundry room? Mia: Excuse me? Uhh? Looks confusedly at Alii
Buzzer: POLICE!!

Alii springs from the couch in terror, looking frantically around. Mia stands there in a moment of indecision as Alii begins to gather things off the table. Mia pushes the button and runs to help. Moments later, they open the door. A bewildered police man is knocking on Sir Neighbor's door.

Mia: Can I help you?
Police: We've gotten reports of someone breaking into your laundry room. Can you show us where it is?
Mia: Uh sure . . .

Mia wanders, stunned, towards the kitchen, grabbing the key off the hook as Alii attempts to magically absorb our fragrant living room smell in through her pores.

Police Office: Don't go outside. They may be out there!

12,394 police officers continue to stream through the apartment and stand bewildered in the courtyard. Mia dares to go outside.

Mia: The laundry room is right here." pointing below the apartment. Then goes back inside.
Alii: So maybe we should hold off on that bowl . . .

They left 20 minutes later, Alii having overheard that they had received another call of a laundry room break in, so were pretty certain it was a prank. (The lack of burglary going on in the laundry room may also have contributed to this conclusion.) My question is: LAUNDRY ROOM? What, are they going to steal the dryer that doesn't work and someone's abandoned underwear? The Laundry Snatchers should feel free to steal the random shit on my back porch while they're at it.

Good to know that the Hyde Park PD was there in force though. We have nothing to fear ladies and gentlemen: your apparel is safe.

Let Me Know, Kay?

I have 45,304 things to say about Texas, but I also have class. Soon. More later.

But for know, let me say: If I smell like piss let me know, kay?

I walked into work yesterday, tired and homesick, ready to watch "Diego" and eat hot dogs, when Holly say, "Oh, by the way, I bought all these cute underwear for Caroline, so we should start potty training her." And promptly dumps a huge pile of pink Dora the Explorer underwear onto the living room table.

We? WE?

So, Caroline peed her pants twice in 2 hours with yours truely being on pants-changing duty. This is not going to be easy. She doesn't won't use the toilet and all the pink commercialism themed underwear in the world are to no effect.

Oh, and did I mention that since she missed me, Litte Bit has been extra affectionate? (Read: crawling into my lap in an adorable fashion, then promptly attempting to scale Mount Mia.)

I wash her.
I change her pants.
She is piss free.
Therefore, by the power of logic, I shouldn't have piss on me and/or smell like pee

Plan of attack: cease giving her liquid.

The Edge of the World

The Shaws
6C
9:14 am
Diego! Diego! Go Diego Go!
(it's the penguin episode -- my fav)
Monday, March 6, 2006

The Edge of the World

Chicago is a beautiful, picturesque city, full of surprising vistas, stunning architecture, clear pure sunshine and all the modern beauty of a cosmopolitan town nestled in the heart of the Midwest. When you take the 55 to 90/94, right when you first merge onto 55, all of sudden! Chicago! bursts through the warehouses, the traffic and there it is in all it's towering glory. I remember being greeted by that skyline when I came to prospie, knowing that that view, those buildings would one day mean I was home.

This summer, Lauren, Alii and I were driving North on Lake Shore for reasons unknown when suddenly, we came around a inlet, and we all started hollering. There it was: Chicago skyline, blue sky, Lake Michigan. Perfect summer. So, here we are, driving along, SCREAMING because the beauty was more then we could contain.

But sometimes, Chicago is cold. Chicago is forbidding. And on days like that, the edge of the world becomes apparent and I fight the urge to throw myself off of it. When the fog rolls in, the snow clouds stick around, where there once was the edge of the Lake, there is instead a bank of nothing. A gray, nebulas expanse of the unknown, tempting explorers, intimidating those who are too comfortable in their static existence. Today is one of those days.

As I pretend to write a paper on Leibniz's concept of Space and Time, I gaze out the window of the Cute Baby's apartment window. Six stories up provides a pie slice view between buildings, ending in a bank of ash colored emptiness. Usually I can see the curve of the shore as it continues North, water tumbling over the breaker, cars whizzing by on Lake Shore.

Today, there are trees, the beach. And. Then. Nothing. It's rather difficult to write about the nature of Space and Time when the edge of the world is so close at hand. Explorers have died for it. Heretics have burned for not believing in it. Scientists have wasted away in Purgatory for revolutionizing theories about it.

And me? I throw Cute Baby in the air, pace around the apartment, starting out the window, imagining dashing across the traffic, heedless of the fog to hurl myself into oblivion - spiraling downward, cartwheeling into whatever is next.

(Ignoring the fact that were I to do that, I would in fact, only end up wet.)

But if I did that, who would make hot dogs and turn on Diego? Caroline comes and crawls into my lap, asking why I have Mommy's computer, slapping a damp wad off pink Play-Dough in my hand. Since I can't abandon Cute Baby, I might as well stick around.

That's one of the many luxuries of being three: you're just not threatened by the eminence of the edge of the world.

THE CRISIS IS NOW!!

So, instead of paying attention in class yesterday, I made a detailed, comprehensive list of what needs to get done for each class to assure that I can leave for Texas in 12 days. And then it hit me:

I LEAVE FOR TEXAS IN TWELVE DAYS!!
I HAVE TO DO ALL THIS SHIT BEFORE THEN!!
HOLY HELL!!

I remember sitting there, calmly outlining my lack of sleep, lack of life, the upcoming self-sacrifice to the Ivory Tower. It looked difficult, strenuous, harrowing and full of suck. Yet, for a few fateful moments, I was able to see it as something foreign to me, something not immediately in my future. Then I realized: IT'S NINTH WEEK!

THE CRISIS IS NOW!!

Time to say good-bye to adequate sleep, well-rested days, manageable amounts of stress, decent food, being prepared for class, and generally not hating life. No, the crisis is nigh!

We were remarking how two weeks seems, theoretically like a long time, and how, generally speaking, two weeks can zoom by in the blink of an eye. 4th week to 6th week? Please. I've napped for longer then that. But then Stef pointed out that the amount of time between 9th week, 10th week, and that fateful finals week is infinitely longer then any other span of time. I think I know why: there is actually more time. Or at least more conscious time. In these coming weeks we will all sleep much less as we desperately try to cram 10 weeks worth of knowledge into our puny little brains. So, there is actually more experienced time between now and then. Boo to that.

Time for a bit of Crisis Relief. Time to buy a box of Chillable Red, lock myself in my apartment to emerge weeks later a much sleepier, alcohol soaked, and hopefully marginally smarter individual. Wish me luck.

Obsessing, Proper

Obsessing, Proper

(Let's pretend it's yesterday, shall we?)
My House
9:09 am
Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I woke up too anxious to function once I realized I have little to no idea what I'm doing this summer. And by summer, I mean with the rest of my life. So, instead of sleeping for another half hour (gasp! Sleep is like gold around here!) I decided to get out of bed and obsess properly. It went a little something like this.

What the hell am I doing this summer?
No Alii or Lauren. Sad.
Upscale waiting? Email Jesse.
Stupid Ovaries
She got a Boob job? No!
Jason P. is moving to Chicago in Sept! I win!
Did he really graduate from Lee four years ago?
Damn. Who the hell is going to live with me this summer?
Am i going to nanny? For whom?
What am I going to wear?
I accidentally bought a maternity sweater: it will fool the sperm . . .
Pink elephants are sweet.
Why is there are error in joining 'wheresmysupersuit?"
10,000 Lakes is going to be the SHIT
KELLER! KELLER!
Why can't Bryan just move to Chicago for the summer?
Why can't anyone, in fact. . . Lauren?
That would be sweet.
I don't want to read that novel in French. Boo.
The Perfect Show. The Perfect Show.
Breaking Neal's Knees.
I totally went to all my classes last week.
So that means I can skip a lot this week, right?
Oh man, skipping class in high school was hilarious.
Oklahoma City: me, Adam, his family. In a month. Heavy.
So much love, I'm such a luck girl.
I'd rather be a lucky man the a good man.
What is it that's so decadently comfortable about wearing only a shirt and undies?
I wonder what University publication I'm getting interviewed for today?
Stupid Ovaries
I haven't done work since last Thursday.
I should do some work. My head doesn't hurt anymore!! I win!
Man, migraines are lamelameLAME
Oh with the work I have to do now.
What if I had become a famous ballerina?
That would probably suck. Texas in 14 days. OMG!
This is going to be ridiculous.
Alii says it's like meeting characters from a book.
She doesn't think my friends really exist.
Oh they exist all right. Well, as much as any of us exist.
Gauging out my ears is fun! Plugs here I come.
Maybe I want to start my dreads now . . .
Peace Corp dinner tonight. . . That'll help?
Grad School? Peace Corp? Grad School? Peace Corp?
Year off?
California? Austin? California? Austin?
Metaphysics is so cool
Voltaire! Voltaire! Voltaire!
Maybe Wallace can help me find a kick ass summer job.
Oh man.
I'M A GENIUS!! AYSE SHOULD LIVE WITH ME THIS SUMMER!!
That would be super duper.
Do some work, bitch. Seriously.
This is pretty goddamn ridiculous.