02 9 / 2013
Alright Lemurs, here’s an interesting story. Lemur King though, I hope no one else reads this.
It happened this morning. I had a late night coming in. Found my bed around four o’clock in the morning … again. But I had the room to myself—Brooke spent the night at the beach. When my head hit my pillow, sleep came so fast to me, I blinked and it was already morning. And Brooke was back.
I could hear her snoring, which was a first. I never heard her do that before. Groggy, because I had only attained six hours of sleep, I slowly brought myself up into a sitting position. Stomach bare, and legs free I only slept with the bare essentials—my sports bra and underwear.
So please imagine my surprise when I looked over at Brooke and saw that she had cut her hair extremely short, and grown some scruff around her chin. Oh wait, it wasn’t Brooke, it was a guy. Well leaping lemurs, I grabbed what I could of my spread out blanket and held it against my chest. What was I to do? At first I averted my eyes, I saw he was bare chested and I didn’t exactly see where Brooke was.
I let myself fall back against the pillow. I couldn’t exactly get out of bed, without exposing some of my body to this guy if he suddenly happened to open his eyes. Would if my blatter was bulging right now and I had to pee. The door to the bathroom seemed a mile away. My bedroom became a whole new battle ground.
Luckily, the night before, I had left my yoga pants and shirt right beside my bed. It was going to be a struggle to retrieve though. And as I strategically tried to grab my clothing, I could sense that the male in the room was conscious. Well Jeez.
But like a lemur, I got the clothes. Then I awkwardly put them on underneath my duvet.
I was out of the room in a flash.
And when I walked out, I realized this was a first.
First walk of shame.
And the shame…
Because I was the third wheel in my own room, I had to leave.
28 7 / 2013
Here’s my update.
D A Y 1.
So my flight, like most flights, was somewhat uneventful. B u t. I did sit in the middle seat so…I met some interesting people from the East coast. On my left, the window seat, sat a young Philly female whose trip was all business. She was in digital marketing and had to meet an important client in SF. It was nice talking to her, since I’ll be going into a similar field.
To my right, the aisle seat, sat an elder man from New Jersey. But, he was originally from Ireland and regularly travels back there (must have a lot of frequent flyer miles lol). He was flying to Oregon for a wedding and was the best man. Now this guy…he must have an interesting life. We chatted for the first couple hours of the fight, and i found out he was an Environmental Scientist (Laura, I think you two would’ve had an interesting conversation). He owned property up along the eastern coast, from Florida to New Jersey and is currently buying a house in Dover, DE.
The Philly girl and the New Jersey Guy (we never exchanged names) both talked about the impact of Sandy. And it was interesting to hear a first hand experience on the impact. New Jersey had been in Ireland visiting family at the time when Sandy struck, so he saw from television places like parks from his childhood being wiped out. And when he got back to his neighborhood he described it as “apocalyptical”. Only people who proved themselves to be of residency were able to visit their destroyed homes during the day. He was running on a generator for like two weeks. But what I found interesting was how he literally plugged himself back into the world. Cellular devices were apparently not functioning so he cleverly brought out his wired phone and plugged that into the wall, and guess what…that worked! He also, since internet was unavailable, found an old box computer of his and plugged that into the wall. Dial-up was working! Because no one else was using it…how funny! Maybe I should go back to dial-up…
And here was the most exciting part of my flight.
Halfway through, Philly had taken a bite to eat of her fruit and cheese platter, when all of a sudden I notice her becoming slightly tense. Slowly, she flattened both of her hands down on the food tray to steady herself. I could sense what was about to happen next. She then began to rummage through the seat compartment…confirming my suspicions more as she picked up her empty Auntie Ann’s pretzel bag. So I put two and two together and looked through my own seat’s compartment. Those pretzel bags we all know are covered in grease and butter and to anyone who has thrown up before…agree with me that smells seem extremely pungent. I found my compartment’s white flat bag intended for one thing on flights and handed it over to her. She nauseously smiled and took the bag. And mila-seconds from that point she puked with great accuracy into the white bag. New Jersey, completely oblivious until that point, unbuckled himself and shot up out of his seat. I accidentally let out a giggle at his reaction as I pressed the flight attendant assistance button. Philly was given another bag, ginger ale, and threw up a little more. New Jersey sat back down and we all went on with the flight.
Goodnight Lemurs. lol if you made it down here…well, I hope this was somewhat interesting… hahaha
23 7 / 2013
12 7 / 2013
10 7 / 2013
10 7 / 2013
08 7 / 2013
07 7 / 2013
06 7 / 2013
05 7 / 2013
So an interesting situation happened to me the other day. My mother, sister, and I were headed home after my sisters intense swim meet—which consisted of hyper energetic teens that get high off of the thrill of competition and parents too intensely involved in their child’s lack of aggressiveness. Deranged and wired out from all the youthful excitement both my mother and I mutually felt frozen yogurt was needed having survived four hours of high pitched squeals and nonstop parental shouting.
When we reached the parking lot of our destination, we saw that the site was quite occupied. And my sister all of a sudden caught a whiff of insecurity seeing that she only had her swim suit on and nothing else to cover the rest of her bare body. Mother left it up to me, as she pulled the car into a slot and parked it, that I should go and venture out alone to retrieve our well-deserved treats. It was all dandy to me—because hey, as long as I was getting some frozen yogurt, I was contempt.
Well, out of the car and towards the shop I went. But before entering the site, there was a socializing crowd of people hanging outside that I would have to pass through. I nonchalantly walked by the group full of laughter—a success I had noted, since even some members of the group had stopped what they were doing to supposedly, check me out. But oh, how I was wrong about that. For as I opened the door that would satisfy my craving of frozen yogurt, the loud crowd outside had hit me with silence. And then someone shouted at my behind, “quick”
And like that word, I quickly turned my face to see a tall young fella pointing his finger at me like Harry Potter would point his wand at Snape—before we all found out he was on the good side…all this time.
And then the fella asked me the question that had tortured young teenage girls for months on end: “Jacob or Edward?”
Everywhere fell silent. My answer evidently was crucial to them and as every second went by I discovered the answer was just as important to me. For this fella had asked me a question I had never been asked before, therefore, never been able to answer. And now, I had the opportunity…Edward or Jacob… Jacob? Or Edward?
A cage rattled inside my mind. Tossing the two words back and forth like a game of monkey in the middle…doubled. I was feeling the torment of the two words at last. My heart raced, everyone was watching me, waiting for my answer.
My head spun. Images of the two names flashed before me. But another image made an appearance.
A boy. No. A man. A man dressed in all black. A man who loved to satirize every single thing that annoyed him in life. A man whose attention was so hard to attain yet so easily captured by the shows Archer and Game of Thrones. I had known him by sitting behind him for 45 minutes each day. I had observed the mysterious air about him from afar and watched over the span of a year his intriguing lifestyle. How he collided with the question between Jacob or Edward, I will not admit to. But their complexity was so similar perhaps it was the same.
And for that reason
I remembered where I was.
Faced with the question that picked at your brain
And with a straightened back, high chin and full confidence did I give the curious audience my answer.
It was not Jacob or Edward. It was not Harry Potter or Peeta Malark or Gale.
It was the boy. No. The man.
I smoothly spoke his name
giving it the delicate pronunciation it so deserved.
For, the question was no longer between Jacob or Edward.
We all knew.
And I walked into the frozen yogurt shop.