My So-Called Life

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Our New Friend #3

Our New Friend #2

Our New Friend #1

Why I don't let my parents/grandparents read my blog

Let's be honest, it is best not to tell your parents everything. Example: "Hey Mom! I almost killed a pedestrian while I was driving down Main Street today. Guess that'll teach me to go 80 in a 45-mph zone." "I'll be home late tonight, Mom; I'm going out to spend some time with lots of men. Big ones. Full of sperm." Probably not things your Mom wants to hear. Or needs to hear.

And today I wanted to be completely honest with you about how much it sucks to be a woman in the inner city. (Don't worry, I plan to include some fun stories and pictures as well.) But if my Mom read this she'd just worry about me even more than she already does. (And Uncle Randy, if you don't leave her alone about my blog, you're not going to be allowed to read it, either. So there. ;-) So, down to it:

Sometimes it doesn't even seem worth it to leave the house; it's hard to walk down the street without hearing whistling or catcalling or having cars slow down to stare or yell at you. This is not flattering, it is nasty. It is a reminder that you are nothing more than a sexual object, and a vulnerable sexual object at that. As a woman in the inner city, you always have to be aware of your environment, especially the people around you. You have to remember not to walk alone in stairwells or too close to buildings or by yourself after dark. Various admonitions may run through your head: "Watch where you're going. Never get into a car; once you're in a car, you're dead. Always look like you know where you're headed."

I have realized lately that I wear a scowl on my face when I walk down the street; I think this is to discourage men from talking to me. I'm always sure to make at least a little eye contact so the passing man will know that I can identify him in a lineup if I have to. Sometimes I wish I had eyes in the back of my head so men who walk by and "Hey Baby" me or look me up and down can see me roll my eyes. Although if I had too many eyes they might stop "Hey, Babying" me at all. And that would be nice!

We are told that the proper response to a "pick-up line" (if you can call it that) is "Nah, I'm cool." Apparently it works like a charm. I wouldn't know, because I never say anything. I know that if I open my mouth, something a lot closer to four letters and a lot more negative would come out. I have been known to have to physically restrain myself from flipping off the guys who really tick me off.

In fact, one time I passed two guys who started yelling at me, and I just walked right on by. Then they began yelling, "What? You deaf?" and decided to start cussing me out in a pretty interesting manner. I wondered if they were trying to figure out if I was deaf or not, but whatever. Punks.

The scariest thing, though, is having a man walk up behind you and stay too close for too long. When that happens, the realization that you are weaker and therefore incredibly vulnerable hits like a ton of bricks. "This man could do something to me, and I would be able to do nothing about it," you think.

So here's my interesting story. And the pictures.

Last Tuesday my team and I went out to the lake to take some pictures. (They're pretty good, when Noel gives me the go-ahead I might email out a few.) One of the guys from another Oakland team came to take them, and as we were discussing what to do first, a drunk, shirtless guy came up to our group, looked at me and asked if I would stick an earring through a hole in his ear that had closed up. I said okay (can you tell that I'm terribly impulsive?) and took the earring from him. His ear had scabbed over, so being careful to not get anywhere near it, I shoved the earring as hard into the middle of the scab as I could. And then green puss-like stuff and blood started coming out. So I tried for a second or two more–-once again being sure not to touch anything but the earring--but I couldn't get it through.

But he continued to follow us and talk to us about how he is married to an eighteen-year-old ("Well, maybe not quite eighteen") and his great car and how this crazy lady hit it and how he got a new one and how his family is really big in this city, etc. When we told him we had to go to take some pictures he said, "Aw, I could go to the corner store and get a disposable camera and take better pictures than THIS guy. I could take you to the best spots in the city!" (Warning bells: never get into a car. . .)

We told him no, but thank you, but he kept following us until we started ignoring him hard-core, and when he finally yelled that he was going off to a barbeque I felt instantly safer.

Until a few days later. Ruth and I left the clinic after work on Thursday and as we got out onto the street I noticed my shirtless friend on the opposite corner. (He did have a wife beater on this time, though, but he was still drunk.) As I was explaining the situation to Ruth, Charlie, a guy who used to be in the rehab program came up and started talking with us. We decided to start walking in the direction of drunk guy since Charlie was with us, and I tried to blend in.

Of course that was pretty much impossible (one of the few times I hated my red hair). Drunk guy started yelling at Charlie.

"Hey! I know that girl! I saw her at the lake yesterday!"

And he kept yelling at us. And we kept walking. Charlie finally said, "Hey, nice chest hair," I guess to get him to leave us alone.

"If you think that's impressive, you should see my NUT hair," he yelled back, and kept following us.

"Aw, why don't you go braid your nut hair?!" Charlie yelled.

Thankfully, he pretty much stopped following us after that.

While I was attempting to mentally wipe out the last few moments of my life, Charlie asked how I knew that interesting character, so I explained how we'd met him and that he was half-naked at the time.

"Which half?" he asked.

"Um, the top half. If it was the bottom half, I think I would've been scared away by his impressive nut hair," I said.

But I felt violated, somehow. This scary, nasty, persistent guy had come to MY space, had found his way into MY life, and that was frightening. Still weirds me out a bit.

And so you can get the full picture (and be properly weirded out as well), I'm going to post some photos. I think this will make some more sense out of the story I just told you, because it's completely different when you can actually SEE the guy.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

I'm tired.

But I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't sleep if I went to bed right now, even though lately I have been waking up exhausted regardless of how much sleep I have just gotten.

I'm pretty stressed out, and my body rebelling hard-core. I have developed a new facial tic along with some impressive canker sores, my face is breaking out like crazy, I'm tired all the time and still having trouble getting rid of the congestion from my last illness and my Oakland-hates-me rash is coming back full-force. Also, the kids in the neighborhood have recently discovered fireworks, and so we are constantly hearing what sounds like a cannon being fired at our apartment at all hours. I need a vacation.

What's bothering me most right now, though, has less to do with my situation here than normal. I mean, I still disagree with the rules of the program I'm in, am still way out of my comfort zone, still feel lonely and unappreciated, now realize that my favorite service site and the only place here where anyone was excited to see me is out for the summer and am still incredibly burned out and ready to go home. (Oh, and Ruth and I are "disagreeing" about some things at the moment and she's leaving the clinic, so I've pretty much lost my closest and perhaps only friend here as well.)

But as I was saying, the thing on my mind most at the moment happens to be my parents' situation. For those of you who don't know, in January my dad was unceremoniously "asked for his resignation" by the elders of the church he had preached at for 22 years. And they didn't give him any warning or a reason. Just the promise of his salary for the next four months (which he got extended to six). Putting aside the fact that these men who have been like family to me just tore apart the church and stole something of great value from my dad (and the rest of us, who I doubt will ever go to church there again) when they should've been throwing him a party for his years of dedicated service, I'm worried about my parents' financial situation most. Dad's salary runs out the first of August along with my parents' medical insurance, and he doesn't seem much closer to finding a job than he did in January. (Apparently this whole "mid-life career change" thing is harder than it sounds. And it sounds pretty hard. There is a job in Abilene that I am really rooting for, but they haven't called him back yet.) When I talked to my Mom on Thursday she told me that they will just have to sit down and figure out a new budget. Which I think pissed me off most of all.

My parents are in their 50's. They're starting the golden years of their lives and should be planning retirement and the grand vacations they'll take with their grandson, not figuring out a new budget after losing over half of their combined income. This is not right; someone needs to be taking care of my parents. And I don't have the power or the resources to do so. And God doesn't seem to be dropping jobs into their laps. So I'm ticked off. And worried. Why isn't anyone doing anything? Why aren't the elders apologizing? What exactly is there to do? Who will take care of me when I get done here and no longer even have my $70 a month? Will I have to eat ramen while I search for a job? Will my parents have to eat mac & cheese until they're 80? Why isn't God DOING anything?

I don't know kids, I don't know.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

I got this off Kim's blog

And I’m bored. I hope this doesn’t take away any of the “mystery” of me.


( ) ever smoked marijuana
( ) made out with a member of the same sex
( ) crashed a friend's car
( ) stolen a car
( ) been to Japan
( ) played mailbox baseball
(x) ridden in a taxi
( ) been in love
(x) been dumped
( ) shoplifted
( ) been fired
( ) been in a fist fight
( ) kicked someone's butt
( ) snuck out of my parent's house
( ) ever had a crush on someone of the same sex
( ) ever dated someone of the same sex
(x) had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back
( ) been arrested
(x) made out with a stranger
( ) stole something from my job
( ) celebrated new years in time square
(x) gone on a blind date--ALL OF ACU HAS TO REMEMBER THAT ONE
(x) lied to a friend
( ) had a crush on a teacher
( ) celebrated mardi-gras in new orleans
(x) been to Europe
(x) skipped school
( ) slept with a co-worker
( ) been married
( ) gotten divorced
( ) had children
(x) seen someone die-I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM WHEN VINCE’S GRANDMA DIED
( ) been to Africa
( ) had a crush on one of your myspace friends
( ) slapped someone I loved
( ) Driven over 400 miles to attend a show/festival/fetish ball
( ) Been to Canada
(x) Been to Mexico
(x) Been on a plane
(x) Seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show
( ) Thrown up in a bar
( ) Purposely set a part of myself on fire
(x) Eaten Sushi
( ) Been snowboarding
( ) Met someone in person from the internet
(x) Been moshing at a concert
( ) had real feelings for someone you knew only online
( ) been in an abusive relationship
( ) been pregnant or got someone pregnant
( ) lost a child
(x) gone to college
(x) graduated college
( ) tried killing yourself
( ) taken painkillers
(x) love someone or miss someone right now
(x) walked along train tracks like they were a tightrope
(x) laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by
(x) made a snow angel
(x) had a tea party
(x) flown a kite
(x) built a sand castle
(x) gone puddle jumping
(x) played dress up
(x) jumped into a pile of leaves
(x) gone sledding
(x) cheated while playing a game
(x) been lonely
( ) fallen asleep at work/school
( ) climbed a volcano
( ) used a fake id
(x) gone ice skating
(x) watched the sun set
(x) felt an earthquake--WELL, I’VE SLEPT THROUGH AT LEAST THREE
(x) touched a snake
( ) slept beneath the stars
( ) ridden on a camel
( ) climbed a mountain (DOES THE HILL AT CAMP BANDINA COUNT?)
(x) played ‘clue’
(x) had sleepover
(x) been tickled
( ) seen a UFO
(x) told a lie
(x) been robbed
(x) been misunderstood
(x) been fishing
( ) snuck into a movie
( ) consulted a psychic
(x) petted a reindeer/goat
( ) won a contest
(x) been to a zoo
(x) seen your dad cry
(x) ran a red light
( ) been suspended from school
(x) been in a car accident
(x) had braces
(x) felt like an outcast
(x) eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(x) had déjà vu
(x) touched a starfish
(x) danced in the moonlight
(x) hated the way you look
( ) jousted/sword fought/jedi light thingys
( ) witnessed a crime
( ) been spit on by a llama
(x) pole danced--YOU CAN ASK MY CURRENT ROOMIES ABOUT THAT ONE
( ) met anyone famous
(x) questioned your heart...
(x) been to the circus
(x) been to jail--ALCATRAZ!
(x) laughed during a sad scene in a movie/tv show
(x) played with an etch a sketch
(x) eaten caviar
(x) been obsessed with post-it notes
(x) hated your computer
(x) owned a pet
(x) made a banana-split
(x) squished barefoot through the mud
(x) been lost
( ) had a midnight picnic
(x) been to the opposite side of the country
(x) swam in the ocean
(x) felt like dying
(x) cried yourself to sleep
(x) laughed in the middle of church
( ) stepped on a nail so that it went into your foot
(x) made homemade ice cream
(x) actually enjoyed your classes
(x) used a magic 8 ball
(x) made a flower chain necklace or other type of jewelry
(x) played cops and robbers
(x) recently colored with crayons/colored pencils
( ) seen a moose up close
(x) sung karaoke
( ) paid for a meal with only coins
(x) done something you told yourself you would never do--DOES “SLOWLY TURNING INTO MY MOTHER” COUNT?
(x) played air guitar
(x) tripped up the stairs
(x) had a crush on a family member--I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA MARRY MY BROTHER WHEN I WAS, LIKE, 3
(x) made a mud pie
(x) made prank phone calls
(x) seen a broadway show on broadway
(x) laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(x) caught a snowflake on your tongue
(x) danced in the rain
(x) written a letter to Santa Claus
( ) been kissed under a mistletoe
( ) watched the sun rise with someone you care about
(x) blown bubbles
(x) made a bonfire on the beach
( ) crashed a party
(x) gone rollerskating
( ) cut down a christmas tree
(x) had a wish come true
(x) worn pearls
( ) gotten anything from Tiffany’s (the jewelry store)
(x) seen the movie Titanic
( ) jumped off a bridge
( ) ate dog/cat food
( ) gone white water rafting
( ) told a complete stranger you loved them--DOES TAKING A BOY TO LOOK AT ENGAGEMENT RINGS ON A SECOND DATE (AS A JOKE) COUNT?
( ) kissed a mirror
(x) sang in the shower
(x) have a little black dress
(x) had a dream that you married someone
( ) glued your hand to something
( ) got your tongue stuck to a flag pole
( ) died your hair a very unnatural color
( ) kissed a fish
( ) worn rose colored glasses..
(x) worn the opposite sex’s clothes
( ) been a cheerleader
(x) sat on a roof top
(x) been in a play
(x) screamed at the top of your lungs
(x) tried to do water ballet
( ) done a one-handed cartwheel
( ) done the splits
( ) talked on the phone for more then 6 hours
( ) ate a jalapeño pepper right off the vine
( ) played bingo and won
(x) stayed up all night
( ) didn’t take a shower for a week
(x) picked wild flowers
( ) pick and ate an apple right off the tree
(x) Climbed a tree
( ) had a tree house
( ) picked a leaf off a tree but then felt bad so tried to glue it back on
( ) got caught sneaking out of your house
( ) gotten a ride home from a police officer
( ) had a crush on your friend’s mom/dad
( ) taken a shower for more then an hour -
( ) colored your hair with markers
(x) made out with your pillow
( ) been to Las Vegas
(x) been in a haunted house
( ) are scared to watch scary movies
( ) believe in ghosts
(x) have more then 20 pairs of shoes
( ) worn a really ugly outfit to school just to see what others say
(x) taken a quiz online that lied to you
(x) gone skinny dipping
( ) played ding-dong-ditch
(x) played chicken
(x) pushed into a pool with all your clothes on
(x) been told you’re beautiful by a complete stranger
(x) had a scavenger hunt
( ) had a party at a hotel
(x) broken a bone
(x) been easily amused
( ) made something out of duct tape
(x) planted a flower
(x) gone to a birthday party and not given the person a present
( ) had more then 3 dates to a dance
( ) caught a fish then ate it
(x) had a bug fly into your mouth
(x) had a bubble bath with the works
( ) gone to a spa
(x) gotten a mist-a-tan
(x) caught a butterfly
( ) had an ant farm
(x) hugged a tree
( ) kissed a tree
(x) played on a slip-and-slide
(x) wrote a ransom note
(x) threw-up at school
(x) had a paper war –
(x) made a paper airplane
( ) stepped on a piece of glass
(x) laughed so hard you cried
(x) cried so hard you laughed
(x) mooned/flashed someone
(x) had someone moon/flash you--UH, DID YOU EVER VISIT MY APT. IN UP?
( ) cheated on a test
( ) have a Brittney Spears CD
(x) forgotten someone’s name
( ) French braided someone’s hair

A Step in the Right Direction

by Zane Williams

Sittin’ here so far from where I want to be
I wonder how on earth I’ll ever make it through
With the weight of my world pressin’ down on me
Sometimes it feels like I can barely move
But I know somehow I don’t have to fix it all right now
It will be enough to just stand up
And take a

(Chorus)
Step in the right direction
A step along the road
Just one step that leads me closer to my goal
A step in the right direction
A step along the road
And with every step I’m closer I know
To goin’ home

On my feet and standing at the starting line
I can see a long and winding road ahead
But with every step I take I leave an obstacle behind
And replace it with a lesson learned instead
And I’ll find my way and I’ll do it day by day
And even the hardest time that I’ll have to face
Is just a

(Chorus)

And when that bright day comes
When all my work is done maybe I’ll sit down again
But until then. . .
I’ll take a

(Chorus)

Monday, June 20, 2005

Playing with fire

My friend Sarah recently described me on her blog as "a spitfire" (a highly emotional and quick-tempered person, especially a girl or woman). I'm assuming she was referring to my quick wit, sharp tongue and ability to "out-stubborn" just about anyone. Not to mention my knack for thinking for myself, my very mischievious side and the fact that I hold ideas that have been described as leaning towards the "feminazi" (a term that I really don't like, just FYI).

Now I'm trying out this new theory that while men might occasionally like to date spitfires, they really do not want to marry them. Case-in-point #1: a guy I know who appreciates this quality in women but who married a woman who does not, really, embody this. Case-in-point #2: another guy I know who did the same thing.

I don't want you to think that I am worried about not being able to find someone to marry me (I won't worry about marriage until I find someone who can keep up with me), but it just occurred to me today that I know very few married spitfires. I guess Gina would be one. And Jeanene Reese would be another. And maybe Peggy Simmons. But those are the only three that I can come up with off the top of my head.

I've just been thinking that perhaps nice Christian boys don't usually want to marry feisty Christian girls. (Maybe I've been thinking about one nice boy in particular, but maybe not.)

But what I really want to know is: do men (in this case, nice Christian ones) marry spitfires?

Sunday, June 19, 2005

I think I'll go eat worms

My birthday was okay. I spent most of it blowing my nose and watching DVDs (that I walked to rent in the rain). Did I mention that Oakland hates me?

While it sucked to be sick on my birthday, I knew it couldn’t be any worse than my eighteenth birthday, which I spent across a table from the boy who had just broken my heart and the girl he had basically cheated on me with, watching them cuddle and be gross. And I was right. It’s always good to have a little perspective, kids!

I had planned to spend this post telling you about how tired I am of my life here, how I am burnt out, how I have developed a weird facial tic in the last few months, how our computer is on the fritz (now you’ll know why I’ve been slower to email), how it was weird to spend a birthday with people who could’ve just as likely been celebrating from a sense of duty as their love for me, how gosh darn unappreciated I am, etc.

But church was actually almost good today, and our pastor talked to us about how we should focus on the positive, and this passage from Blue Shoe by Anne Lamott came to mind:

“. . .Mattie remembered a story the pastor had recently told, about a girl who was crying in the night. When her mother came to comfort her, the girl said she was too afraid of the dark to sleep. ‘But God’s with you, comforting and protecting you,’ the mother said.
‘But I need someone with skin on,’ the little girl said.
This is who Mattie wanted to be in the world: God with skin on, someone who would show up and listen, bring you a glass of water if you were thirsty.”

Don't we all need someone to be God with skin on for us? And what if we all did that for someone else?

I decided a few weeks ago that instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself about how no one around here appreciates me (a few certain events transpired within a short period of time to drive that feeling home, but for the sake of the people with whom I share a small space, I have left most of those stories untold), I would try to start appreciating others. That began a week of wild appreciation for my fellow MY-ers in Oakland (and a friend in College Station). And, surprisingly, I started to feel better! And most of those people really appreciated me for appreciating them! And random things started happening in my own life to encourage me! It was great!

Lately, however, I haven’t seen many ways to continue to do that, and the old “nobody likes me, everybody hates me” feeling is creeping back in. Perhaps this is partly a result of spending too many days sick in our apartment and partly wondering about the motivation for my birthday celebrations here.

But I’ve been asking God to help me keep my eyes and ears open to ways I can continue to appreciate others, both people in AND out of MY, but nothing really spectacular has happened since then. And, appreciating people can sometimes get expensive, especially on my $70/month budget. But I’d still love to hear how I can appreciate you (within reason, of course). Because, really, what else do I have to do. . .besides finish that project I’m still working on for Barbie’s birthday?

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

It's My Party. . .

Tomorrow is my birthday. (Consider this your reminder.) It doesn’t feel like it, though. That could be because I have always known my birthday to be about a month after the end of the school year. And because I am away from my family and friends.

I’m taking the day off, though, and have a few options for birthday activities: (1) visit an art museum in San Fran, (2) rent DVDs and watch them on our laptop in my PJs, (3) visit a quaint little town just a bus ride away or (4) sleep late and then do either (1), (2) or (3).

I just got out the chocolate pie recipe for one of my roommates to use to make my birthday “cake.” Thus far in our apartment, the flavor of the birthday cake has been up to the cake-maker. Not so this time! I made very clear what I wanted, even down to writing down the needed ingredients on our shopping list. Yep, I want you to know that it’s my birthday and that we’re doing things MY way. Happy birthday to me!

I am sad to report, however, that I’m coming down with what looks to be a nasty cold, and am afraid that I’ll be sick on my birthday. Oakland hates me. So far today I have consumed two liters of water, three cups of tea and about eighteen cough drops in an effort to nip this thing in the bud. We’ll see.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The biggest things to happen to me this week

Like the time I had a conversation on the street with a homeless buddy about the temperature of his butthole (I posted about that, remember?) I continue to ask myself if this really is my life.

My last day at school is June 22, and I’m already starting to get sad and nostalgic about leaving my first graders. If you had told me when I started working at this elementary school that I’d get so attached, I would have laughed. “To THOSE bratty kids?!” I would have said incredulously. “I have not seen so much attitude in one place since my apartment in UP!”

But now I know that I’m going to miss their excited little faces and shouts of “ABBY!!” when I walk into the room, and I’ll really miss their little hugs around my waist and their constant questions (What are those spots on you? Are you going to afterschool today? Is “hecka” a bad word? Why do you always chew gum? Can I have some gum?) Gosh, they’re so darn CUTE!

One of the second grade classrooms put on a fashion show/Star Wars production last week, so I took them out to one of the portables and we sat down to watch. We were a little late and all the other classes were watching the show quietly until MY kids got there. One of my little boys looked at me and yelled at the top of his lungs, “CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM? I GOTTA USE IT!” So we had to have a short talk about how we ask for things like that, and then I let him go.

I have to admit, though, that I won’t miss doing math with them and hearing them call me fifty times in a minute. Really, I have never been so sick of my own name.

But it makes me sad to think that I’ll be out of their lives forever; I will probably never see any of these kids again or know how they turn out. I’m leaving them in their own little worlds where their dads are in jail and their moms have run off and 50 Cent is in charge. I will be offering them up to the gods of the inner city, and I can only pray that my short time with them has done some sort of good as I let them loose in this crazy world, to be influenced by their peers and their eternal baby sitter, cable TV.

In other news, foot washing at the clinic is still going pretty well. I actually had a homeless man pretty close to proposing to me, I think, which is a big accomplishment for me (I usually leave all that stuff to Ruth). I guess I was just having a good pheromone day, because I got kissed by quite a few men that day. Well, two. And one is an older gentleman whose feet I usually get to work on, and he kisses me all the time. The other was a Latin American gentleman who tried to teach my roommates and me to salsa. I was kind of surprised. Do you think if I was more ethnic/exotic looking I could go around kissing whoever I want? It's an interesting idea, I think. Too bad those red-headed, blue-eyed Irish aren't known for being overly affectionate in public.

I will spend my summer at the clinic, working at our church’s week-long summer camp and as a “short-term missionary” at a camp called Joni and Friends (as in Joni Eareckson Tada) caring for a disabled child or adult for a week to give his/her full-time caregiving family a little break. Should be interesting!

A Decision

I have decided to get my belly button pierced on the last Wednesday in June (as my activity for team night). My teammates and Ruth are coming along to Berkeley with me to get it done! If you're in the area, you should come, too. It's gonna be a big party!

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

A Poll

So I had some bad experiences on coming back to CA from Albuquerque, and I’m stuck in that “What am I doing here besides wasting minutes/hours/days/months of my life that I will never get back?” mood, which leaves me all depressed and stuffing my face with whatever I can find.

And makes me even more committed to doing something after I finish my time here to signify that I am FREE and it is over. I have always wanted to get my nose pierced, but that might impede my search for a “real” job when my time here is up. And I have considered tattoos, but don’t really know where I could get one that wouldn't: (1) impede the job search, (2) stretch into something stupid-looking when I get pregnant and/or fat or (3) hurt like hell because it’s on a really bony part of my body.

Yael suggested getting my belly button pierced, but I’m not so sure about that. I had a friend in college who had hers pierced and it seemed to get infected a lot. (And I purposely left out her name because she is now married to a "Man of God" and might not appreciate it, but I think that's pretty funny.) Anyway, she can correct me if I'm wrong.

And I’m not cutting my hair because I did that BEFORE I came here, and it’s hecka annoying to grow it out.

So, I ask YOU, faithful blog readers, what should I do to signify my freedom from MY (besides dancing and throwing a party)? Any good suggestions?