Back to real life

Wow, it really has been awhile since I've had the time and energy to think about my site. Sorry guys, if there's anyone even still here.

I spent the past week in heaven, which also goes by the name of British Columbia. Super, natural British Columbia, as their signs announce. It's a shame I never took a picture of one of those signs so I could photoshop it to say Supernatural British Columbia, which would have been awesome.

So after a grueling journey home which involved delayed flights, lost luggage, and a ride in the dumpstermobile, I got home last night and didn't really get out of bed until this afternoon. Also, I have this thing with my fingernails? Where if I have nothing else to do I just start picking and picking and soon they're all gone? So with the eight(?)-ish hours in the airport before getting on to our first flight, I'm typing this up kind of painfully on my poor little denuded fingertips. Maybe I should start wearing mittens all the time.

Anyway, back to real life, I got to catch up with my roommates and some friends tonight while eating a messy-but-made-by-me tortilla (the best of all omelets) and playing Scrabble, where we all learned that my roommate "has a niiiice cushion." It's good to be home.

Dang.

I keep writing things that end up being too personal to publish. Like what I wrote just now? It totally helped me understand myself better and work some things out in my mind (one of my few bursts of meta-cognition!), but there is no way on earth I'm putting those thoughts out there for the whole world to see.

So again, I'm forced to leave you with something uninsightful and dashed-off.

Here we go: I like this band (alright, so I don't even know if I like the band or not. I've listened to two songs by them, and I liked those two songs so much that I just played them over and over and over like probably 30 times since last night). But doesn't the guy in the video look like Elvis? No really, please go take a look and let me know if he looks like the King. Because I feel like maybe I'm going a little crazy?

Defining Moments

Awhile back one of our high school student workers turned 15. Coming from a good Mexican family, she invited us all to her Quinceanera.

My coworker and friend, let's just call him Richard, has never heard of this word before (not surprising, since he is equally unfamiliar with a lot of English words such as pithy, glib, and astute), and after learning the correct pronunciation, goes on to ask what the heck it is. The young lady in question didn't seem to be entirely clear about the deeper meanings of the occasion, only that it's a big fancy birthday party for when you turn 15.

With some interjections from our boss, Richard learns that it's a kind of "becoming a woman" type of celebration. This apparently latches onto his brain, because the next day, he shouts to me from his office a few feet away,

"When did *you* become a woman, ViolaSaint?"

There's an awkward pause for a moment while I try to figure out a diplomatic answer to this question. I finally say that I can't remember the exact day. My officemate, an older lady, lets loose with a loud cackle.

"That's not the type of question you ask people!" And then, a moment later, "When did you become a man?"

And this is where a typed-out narrative of the conversation really is lacking, because you miss the comic timing of the whole thing, but Richard pauses, and we can tell he's thinking.

"Fifteen!"

...

My officemate and I look at each other.

...

" 's when I started to shave."