My roommates were talking about their best friends earlier. I think one of them used the term "Besties" which makes me kind of ill, but whatever. They were talking about how they couldn't live without their best friends. About how that was their other half, their life-mate. Which made me really sad.
Here's the story:
I was best-friendless from the end of fifth grade, when I moved away from my first best friend, until this year (my first year in university) when I met another best friend.
I keep to my original policy, though, that one cannot have two best friends, no matter what they tell you. BF1 and I wouldn't (and aren't) still be best friends. We'd've drifted, I can tell when I talk to her. I still love her, I always will, and she's still a wonderful person who was with me for a big part of my life, but I can't image being as close with her as I was when we were young. We're two very different people, and its good that we are. We're both happy with who we are, and with where we've gotten in our lives. She'll be at my wedding, and I expect I'll be at hers, but save for major events like that and little happenings when I'm in her town or visa-versa, we won't see each other much. The person who you are best friends with when you are young isn't like the person who turns out to be your best friend as a young adult. And I expect the person who is your best friend as a full-grown adult is different still.
My best friend now (or at least, the person who was my best friend this year, I don't know what will happen in the future) is someone who makes me understand what my roommates were saying about how hard it is to live without your best friend. My best friend lives in Vancouver. She is going to school in British Columbia next year, which would be great, except UVic, where she's going, is like, 3,000 miles from Queen's, where I'm going.
She's a lot more tough than I am, and though I'd seen her cry before, it caught me WAY off guard when she broke down when saying goodbye to me when we left school. Totally broke down. And then I did too, of course. We didn't think we'd ever see one another again. The people I was travelling with after we left had to talk to me for a long time about how we were two of the most stubborn people ever, and if we wanted to see one another again, we would. And as fate had it, we did. We met up in London a month later, and spent all of eight hours together. I got to meet her mother.
And now I haven't seen her in, what, six weeks. Which sucks for me, nine times. And for her, too, probably. And she's in Canada, which means I can't call on my cellphone, I have to use Skype. And she's in Vancouver, so there's a time difference issue. Basically I haven't spoken to my best friend in many weeks.
So for once I could relate to what my roommates were talking about.
This sucks. At least I have several million excellent memories with her. And pictures...
Yeah, this sucks.
30 June 2008
29 June 2008
You're So Vain
The fact of the matter is that my roommates eat approximately three times as much as I eat at any given time. Which is fine, except they complain about how much they eat/how fat they are/etc. and work out all the time. Which is, again, fine. Except I can't even begin to express how much I don't care. I eat approx. one legit meal a day (v. anorexic of me) and don't work out ever. I mean, I walk to work (1 mile each way) and then some every day, but I'm basically eating the same amount as I always have and should really not feel so anorexic.
Furthermore, there isn't ever any food in my room (which I don't understand, as we def. purchase groceries twice a week) and I've lost about as much weight as I lost in the first few weeks of living in England (aka a LOT)
Anyway, the nub and gist of the thing is that if you're going to eat all the time, please don't complain about it, and if you're going to work out all the time, the correct thing to do after is NOT to scarf down lots of not good for you food.
End of unintelligible rant.
Furthermore, there isn't ever any food in my room (which I don't understand, as we def. purchase groceries twice a week) and I've lost about as much weight as I lost in the first few weeks of living in England (aka a LOT)
Anyway, the nub and gist of the thing is that if you're going to eat all the time, please don't complain about it, and if you're going to work out all the time, the correct thing to do after is NOT to scarf down lots of not good for you food.
End of unintelligible rant.
28 June 2008
Sex, Drugs and...Well. You Get The Picture.
So apparently in Indiana people get married straight out of college. Apparently, many people do this. There are four girls from IU here (more than from anywhere else) and they talk (and talk, and talk) about ALL the people they know who have gotten married. Many have children.
Now, whatever. I know people who are going to get married as soon as they finish university. Some people do, thats fine. They do what's right for them. Things to keep in mind: Its just SOME people. Also, who cares?
The two girls in my living room have just finished a conversation about sexual positions. I'm pretty prudish myself, but wow, these wanna-be skanky American girls are MAJOR prudes! They talk big, but its just talk. Nutjobs.
And I thought I was coming to Washington to talk about things like Politics.
Silly me.
In other news, Friday is the Fourth of July! Also, Tuesday is Canada Day (which basically means that 1. I'm missing big parties that are going on in Canada Tuesday, and 2. the Embassy is not going to process my visa this week. Yay for me.)
Now, whatever. I know people who are going to get married as soon as they finish university. Some people do, thats fine. They do what's right for them. Things to keep in mind: Its just SOME people. Also, who cares?
The two girls in my living room have just finished a conversation about sexual positions. I'm pretty prudish myself, but wow, these wanna-be skanky American girls are MAJOR prudes! They talk big, but its just talk. Nutjobs.
And I thought I was coming to Washington to talk about things like Politics.
Silly me.
In other news, Friday is the Fourth of July! Also, Tuesday is Canada Day (which basically means that 1. I'm missing big parties that are going on in Canada Tuesday, and 2. the Embassy is not going to process my visa this week. Yay for me.)
Beer Pressure
Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
Unless, apparently, you are in my room, at which point it takes a full four hours before you realize that you are, in fact, drunk.
I'm not talking about me (see previous post) but instead about twenty or so of my fellow participants, many (most?) of whom are underage, and many (most?) of whom are apparently not used to or familiar with drinking alcoholic, and so generally drank too much and acted like buffoons.
Which, again, would be super.
Except they were in my room.
And I was very, very tired.
I didn't kick them out initially, because the whole concept was introduced as "pre-drinking," which would have been fine. I went elsewhere for an hour, assuming that by the time I got back they'd've taken their dressed-for-clubbing selves and, you know, gone clubbing.
No such luck.
They stayed here, and drank and/or spoke gib in order to make it appear as if they had been drinking heavily (a concept which my father thinks is very much the reality, and which I will come back to in a moment) for several hours. Which, again, would have been great, except I wanted to go to bed.
And also I don't like most of them.
And also, I didn't care.
So, anyway.
I suppose I'll get back to my father, at this point. What happened was this:
I was bored after five minutes of being with the drunkards in my room, and so did what I do best, I got pissed (pissed off, not pissed as in drunk), grabbed the bare essentials, and went for a walk.
In DC.
In the middle of the night.
By myself.
In an unfamiliar neighborhood.
So that was super. I wanted to walk to the Lincoln Memorial. I got most of the way there, to the point where I could see it, but then there was construction, etc. so I kind of gave up and walked back. Please don't worry about me, I was fine. Then, I called one of my friends to complain. Basically she told me to get over myself and be social. So I hung up on her, and called the only other person I can talk to who would be up at this hour--my father. Choice number one, no, but whatever. I talked to him for a long time. He explained that probably most of the people who were "drunk" were, in fact, not drunk, but only pretending. Why? I have no idea. Peer pressure, possibly. My father said that they do this in order to fit in, and I should go talk to them. In fact, I have minimal respect for anyone who willingly does this (again, see previous post, "Fake Out") and as such didn't bother. On the other hand, probably they had a good time pretending to be drunk ('cause thats such a fun thing to do) whereas I had a crappy time being the only person not at the party and also not asleep.
I plan on making excessive amounts of noise early tomorrow morning in retribution.
On the other hand, it isn't that likely that I'll be awake early tomorrow morning, as I'm not asleep yet.
Last thing: WTF kind of Friday night party was this? It started around 10 and when I came back up from talking to my dad (which I was doing from outside my dorm) not only were very few people still drunk, but the party was over. That's what I call lame.
Also, as part of the Friday-night-lameness debacle, someone told me I was being a cockblock. In my life, nobody has ever told me that I was doing such a thing. Because, lets face it, I don't care.
In other news, I went to the Canadian Embassy today to obtain a student visa for next year. I didn't get the visa (because, of course, it has to go through sixteen layers of bureaucracy first and also because they wanted proof that I can afford not to live in a box when, in fact, I expect I will be living in a box) but it was nice to go to Canada for a few minutes. I even needed my passport to get in.
Unless, apparently, you are in my room, at which point it takes a full four hours before you realize that you are, in fact, drunk.
I'm not talking about me (see previous post) but instead about twenty or so of my fellow participants, many (most?) of whom are underage, and many (most?) of whom are apparently not used to or familiar with drinking alcoholic, and so generally drank too much and acted like buffoons.
Which, again, would be super.
Except they were in my room.
And I was very, very tired.
I didn't kick them out initially, because the whole concept was introduced as "pre-drinking," which would have been fine. I went elsewhere for an hour, assuming that by the time I got back they'd've taken their dressed-for-clubbing selves and, you know, gone clubbing.
No such luck.
They stayed here, and drank and/or spoke gib in order to make it appear as if they had been drinking heavily (a concept which my father thinks is very much the reality, and which I will come back to in a moment) for several hours. Which, again, would have been great, except I wanted to go to bed.
And also I don't like most of them.
And also, I didn't care.
So, anyway.
I suppose I'll get back to my father, at this point. What happened was this:
I was bored after five minutes of being with the drunkards in my room, and so did what I do best, I got pissed (pissed off, not pissed as in drunk), grabbed the bare essentials, and went for a walk.
In DC.
In the middle of the night.
By myself.
In an unfamiliar neighborhood.
So that was super. I wanted to walk to the Lincoln Memorial. I got most of the way there, to the point where I could see it, but then there was construction, etc. so I kind of gave up and walked back. Please don't worry about me, I was fine. Then, I called one of my friends to complain. Basically she told me to get over myself and be social. So I hung up on her, and called the only other person I can talk to who would be up at this hour--my father. Choice number one, no, but whatever. I talked to him for a long time. He explained that probably most of the people who were "drunk" were, in fact, not drunk, but only pretending. Why? I have no idea. Peer pressure, possibly. My father said that they do this in order to fit in, and I should go talk to them. In fact, I have minimal respect for anyone who willingly does this (again, see previous post, "Fake Out") and as such didn't bother. On the other hand, probably they had a good time pretending to be drunk ('cause thats such a fun thing to do) whereas I had a crappy time being the only person not at the party and also not asleep.
I plan on making excessive amounts of noise early tomorrow morning in retribution.
On the other hand, it isn't that likely that I'll be awake early tomorrow morning, as I'm not asleep yet.
Last thing: WTF kind of Friday night party was this? It started around 10 and when I came back up from talking to my dad (which I was doing from outside my dorm) not only were very few people still drunk, but the party was over. That's what I call lame.
Also, as part of the Friday-night-lameness debacle, someone told me I was being a cockblock. In my life, nobody has ever told me that I was doing such a thing. Because, lets face it, I don't care.
In other news, I went to the Canadian Embassy today to obtain a student visa for next year. I didn't get the visa (because, of course, it has to go through sixteen layers of bureaucracy first and also because they wanted proof that I can afford not to live in a box when, in fact, I expect I will be living in a box) but it was nice to go to Canada for a few minutes. I even needed my passport to get in.
26 June 2008
Fake Out
I was asked for the first time today whether I had a "Fake."
Apparently, if I did have a coveted Fake, I would be able to go out this weekend with some of the other girls from my program. Otherwise I'm basically confined to my room for the next three days. DC closes early.
Unless you have a Fake.
The use of the word Fake caught me off guard when I was asked if I had one. It took me several moments to figure out what the other girl was talking about, as my first thought when hearing the word Fake is of Fake people, people putting on masks (so often of bad make-up) and acting like something they aren't. I guess it’s a peace of mind thing that I've been doing with the people here, but if I think they're just being fake, if they're just trying to impress one another of if they're just talking, you know, just to talk...well. I guess if I think they're being Fake it means that somewhere in there, under all the nonsense, there must be something Real. Though I've got to say, I heard the most inane conversations today, I'm beginning to doubt my theory.
I do not, of course, have a fake ID. I've never needed one; I've never even imagined needing one. At school, everyone was old enough to get into clubs, and if you weren't you just borrowed an ID from someone older, you didn't have your own Fake made. There wasn't so much influence put on drinking that people would go to any lengths to get liquor. Don't get me wrong—many of my classmates drank, but it was legal. Anyone could do it. Nobody cared.
Now here I am in the good ol' USA, and this simple right, one which I'd gotten used to having, has been taken away. It’s like someone telling me that I am still too young to drive, after I'd gone away somewhere and been allowed to do it for a year. In Canada, where I am moving in August (thank God), the drinking age is 19. I turned 19 last week, and I can tell you that it was the most depressing birthday I have ever had. Not only was I in an unfamiliar place with a group of people I didn't know (though to their credit, they were nice enough) but this rite of passage that my friends had been going through all year, I missed. Though the drinking age in England is 18, everyone at my school recognized that once they turned 19 they were recognized as being mature adults at home as well as at school, and for that they celebrated. At home I'm still treated like a little kid. I'm still given Shirley Temples or soda or just water instead of wine with nice meals. And maybe that's how it should be. I guess I'll have to accept it, at least until I get to school.
Not to would be Fake.
25 June 2008
Wandering in Washington
Hello, and welcome to Washington, D.C., the Capital of the United States, and the epitome of what was missing in my life at school this year. Of course, I was at school in Europe, and since everyone I was with was Canadian, the number of Jews was even more embarrassing than the number of Americans I was with. In Washington, everyone I associate with is Jewish, I'm on a Jewish program, with 100% Jews, working at a Jewish lobbyist organization, and living in this fancy-pants capital of the U. S. of A., Land of the Free and Home of the Brave...
Well. I'm living here for the summer, at least. Then I'm moving to Kingston, Ontario, CANADA to go to school.
I have taken to calling Kingston the Frozen Tundra. I don't like the cold. Still, I can't wait.
So I have moved for the time being into a dorm on the GW campus, in order to spend time in Washington. GW, I would like to clarify, is the most expensive university in the country, probably in the world, at a cost of more than sixty thousand dollars a year. This dorm sucks.
D.C. is fine, though. I don't know how much I'd like living here for longer than a summer, but maybe. Its a little (a lot) boring after London, and surprisingly chill, especially when you consider who most of the people around you are, and what they do. I'm not a big fan of the Metro here--its simply pathetic after the London Underground (isn't everything?) and of course, my roommates and I can't get our acts together enough to cook food, so I've been eating a combination of cheap restaurant food (I'm very poor) and frozen Lean Cuisine-style dinners. And chips, popcorn, brownies, etc. It is very bad, and makes me have a great deal less respect for Anorexics. Perhaps it isn't the huge amount of self-control that we all thought it was, perhaps they just can't figure out how to cook themselves anything decent. On the other hand, my roommates continue to fight over who has eaten more each day, and who is fatter, so I find myself, again, being driven to the genius of an eating disorder. I just don't care to be involved with the conversation.
(DISCLAIMER: I do not have an eating disorder. I do not expect to have an eating disorder in the near future. I eat fine. Please do not worry about my eating habits. I just talk/complain a lot.)
Anyway, as I continue to explore and as I am exposed to more and more Americana and U.S. Government paraphernalia, I am finding myself less and less impressed with my country. Today I went to a press conference about the newly-passed-by-the-House Americans with Disabilities Act. First reaction: Its 2008. Have we seriously JUST passed an Americans with Disabilities Act? It has to do with eliminating discrimination in the workplace. There was a disabled Rep. there, who had the coolest wheelchair ever. He was the same height as someone standing up while sitting in it. And it was on only two wheels. V. cool. Anyway, several Congressmen spoke, and one epileptic woman, who was very eloquent and thanked everyone for the help she would be receiving from this bill. All of which is fine, except that the whole thing was made to be a stage production. I was standing with the people who will be most affected by this bill, and the people who worked the hardest to pass it through the house (which I didn't do, of course, because I have been in the city for a week and in the country for a little more than a month, and have really no idea what is going on in American politics) but these people who really cared about the legislation, and who should have been celebrating a victory at this press conference were made to stand behind those who were speaking so that we couldn't hear anything, but we looked good for the cameras. It is beginning to seem to me that the American government is just for show.
I went yesterday to a Senate hearing on the issues taking place in Darfur. By now everyone (or everyone who might possibly care) knows about Darfur, and considers it a major problem. I can understand people (mean people, but people) in the American government not considering it a priority, per se, but they know whats going on, at least. Anyway, there was really only one senator at this hearing. I guess most of them just don't care that much about it. I am proud, however, to say that the one senator there was my very own Senior Senator from Illinois, Dick Durbin. He is great.
So I guess that somewhere between my education about foreign governments, whether they are European, Israeli or Canadian, and my ever increasing knowledge about my own, American government, and in part because of the amount of show and the lack of desire to actually instigate any king of real change (especially for people who don't vote in U.S. elections, especially people who live in Africa and look, you know, like Africans)... Anyway, somewhere I guess I have lost a lot of the respect I once had for my government.
They have five weeks to win it back.
Thank God I'm moving to Canada.
Well. I'm living here for the summer, at least. Then I'm moving to Kingston, Ontario, CANADA
I have taken to calling Kingston the Frozen Tundra
So I have moved for the time being into a dorm on the GW
D.C. is fine, though. I don't know how much I'd like living here for longer than a summer, but maybe. Its a little (a lot) boring after London, and surprisingly chill, especially when you consider who most of the people around you are, and what they do. I'm not a big fan of the Metro here--its simply pathetic after the London Underground (isn't everything?) and of course, my roommates and I can't get our acts together enough to cook food, so I've been eating a combination of cheap restaurant food (I'm very poor) and frozen Lean Cuisine-style dinners. And chips, popcorn, brownies, etc. It is very bad, and makes me have a great deal less respect for Anorexics. Perhaps it isn't the huge amount of self-control that we all thought it was, perhaps they just can't figure out how to cook themselves anything decent. On the other hand, my roommates continue to fight over who has eaten more each day, and who is fatter, so I find myself, again, being driven to the genius of an eating disorder. I just don't care to be involved with the conversation.
(DISCLAIMER: I do not have an eating disorder. I do not expect to have an eating disorder in the near future. I eat fine. Please do not worry about my eating habits. I just talk/complain a lot.)
Anyway, as I continue to explore and as I am exposed to more and more Americana and U.S. Government paraphernalia, I am finding myself less and less impressed with my country. Today I went to a press conference about the newly-passed-by-the-House Americans with Disabilities Act. First reaction: Its 2008. Have we seriously JUST passed an Americans with Disabilities Act? It has to do with eliminating discrimination in the workplace. There was a disabled Rep. there, who had the coolest wheelchair ever. He was the same height as someone standing up while sitting in it. And it was on only two wheels. V. cool. Anyway, several Congressmen spoke, and one epileptic woman, who was very eloquent and thanked everyone for the help she would be receiving from this bill. All of which is fine, except that the whole thing was made to be a stage production. I was standing with the people who will be most affected by this bill, and the people who worked the hardest to pass it through the house (which I didn't do, of course, because I have been in the city for a week and in the country for a little more than a month, and have really no idea what is going on in American politics) but these people who really cared about the legislation, and who should have been celebrating a victory at this press conference were made to stand behind those who were speaking so that we couldn't hear anything, but we looked good for the cameras. It is beginning to seem to me that the American government is just for show.
I went yesterday to a Senate hearing on the issues taking place in Darfur. By now everyone (or everyone who might possibly care) knows about Darfur, and considers it a major problem. I can understand people (mean people, but people) in the American government not considering it a priority, per se, but they know whats going on, at least. Anyway, there was really only one senator at this hearing. I guess most of them just don't care that much about it. I am proud, however, to say that the one senator there was my very own Senior Senator from Illinois, Dick Durbin. He is great.
So I guess that somewhere between my education about foreign governments, whether they are European, Israeli or Canadian, and my ever increasing knowledge about my own, American government, and in part because of the amount of show and the lack of desire to actually instigate any king of real change (especially for people who don't vote in U.S. elections, especially people who live in Africa and look, you know, like Africans)... Anyway, somewhere I guess I have lost a lot of the respect I once had for my government.
They have five weeks to win it back.
Thank God I'm moving to Canada.
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