I am Chloe Sullivan

Another one of my high school buddies got engaged last week. My best friend from high school got married almost three weeks ago. That puts the married count of close high school friends to somewhere close to 6 and currently engaged up to 4. Man - they are just dropping like flies. I laugh doubly now at those who said I would be "the first to go". Now I just have to keep track of who changed their last name, who is hyphenating, and who hasn't changed at all.

It isn't that easy. No. It is never that easy.

I have been home for the past week. It has been lovely except for the case of the sniffles I've had since Tuesday. Every time I come home it seems like something else has changed. The furniture is in a different spot. My dog has gained or lost weight. The cat has a new place that is her typical roost. My sister's hair has changed colors. Or maybe that is my hair. Regardless - it is always so so nice to be home and see so many friends that I have not seen in months, sometimes years. Some connections just never die.

I am blessed. Oh. I am blessed.

I finished watching the 7th season of Smallville with my mother this evening. She is all caught up now and I am doubly frustrated. Not only do I not have the 9th season to delve into - I also don't have the 8th season yet on DVD and won't for a few months. I know my addiction is unreasonable, but I am upset and frustrated!

I am frustrated. Oh! I am frustrated!

I had a photo shoot tonight with a friend who needed to try out her new camera. I'm excited to see the results. Also - my computer is going with me to visit my brother tomorrow. Hopefully he will be able to work some of his magic and my camera and my computer will be on speaking terms again.

I have hope. Oh. I have hope.

It's amazing what a little sunshine and a good pair of shoes can do for a girl's outlook on life.

Love is Watching Somone Die

It's been ten years exactly since my grandpa, Bop, passed away. Talk about something being absolutely surreal. I remember so much about that day so vividly that it seems like it could have just happened a week ago. It still hurts a lot in the same way, too, but differently. Just thinking about it - I am swept back to that tiny sterile hospital room. It was quick. Then there was the whirl of funeral preparations, the relatives crawling out of the woodwork, the trays and trays of deli meat, and then the strangeness of going back to my day-to-day life when something so fundamental in my reality had been irrevocably altered. It was a lot for a thirteen year old to compute.

To say that I think of him every day and miss him would not be an understatement. I treasured him deeply and hope that the choices that I've made with my life would make him proud to call me his grand daughter. He was a wonderful man and I wish that he could have seen me grow up more than he did, but I am very thankful for the time that I did have with him.

Some people say that death is unfair. I don't agree with this statement. Death is completely fair because it doesn't discriminate. Everyone dies. Everyone has the exact same odds of ending up dead at the end of their life. Some argue that the timing of death is unfair. I disagree with this also. After all, who are we to decide when it is fair for someone to die? For some it may seem like it is more appropriate (an elderly person over a child) or perhaps even more deserved (a murderer instead of the murdered) but that doesn't make it any more or less fair. It just makes it easier for our brains to comprehend.

Death is death. It just is what it is. It is as natural as living. I don't necessarily welcome death, but I accept it for what it is. Death is just a way for me to leave this world and be reunited with my Father and my grandfather. My only regret are those that I will leave behind.

Vapid

I strongly dislike Matthew McConaughey.

I was talking about this with my manager at work the other morning while cleaning the grill. Not only is his last name pretentiously difficult to spell, on a scale from 1 to attractive, I would probably have to put him at -7. I almost find him anti-attractive. I'm not sure if it is the accent, the almost cave-man like facial structure, or his was too bulgy muscles. Whatever it is - I am just not a fan.

Now I know this probably makes me seem like a terrible person, but I will be the first to admit that when I watch a show or movie - I want the people in it to be unreasonably attractive. On most people's scale - Mr. McConaughey would fall into that category. For me, however, that just isn't the case. I don't want to spend time watching average to below average people acting. No. I see average people every single day in my life. Give me some unrealistic expectations! Give me some outrageously good look people!

On that note and not being one to dwell on negativity, I am more than ready to share with you all some celebrity men who are on my "definitely yes" list. So here are some gents that fit my bill for some reason or another.


Johnny Depp fulfills two of my most basic criteria for attraction: talent and symmetry. His quirkiness is just a perk.I think the real question here is: why the heck not? Christian Bale is amazing. Ah. Maze. Ing. He has great hair, too.
Hugh Jackman can sing, dance, act and has an Austrailian accent. He also is in one of my favorite movies ever and plays Wolverine. Do I really even need to give justification for why he is on my list?Michael Rosenbaum specifically in the role of Lex Luthor on Smallville. Charismatic, resourceful, unrelenting - he makes bald look way better than good.
(Chris)Topher Grace is one of my top. Funny, nerdy, awkward as I'll get out and adorable. Really, what more could a girl want?

Remember January? Yeah. I don't.

I often feel more stupid after I finish a semester than before I started it. This may be the exact opposite of how I am supposed to feel, but it is oft my sentiment.

At the beginning of the semester I don't expect to really know anything in the classes that I am enrolled in. I'm a blank slate, an untouched canvas, a landscape of pristine snow. After all, really, how much am I going to know from day to day conversation about reading non-profit and governmental financial statements? I don't know how much you all have garnered about reporting detachable warrants on bonds in passing, but I didn't know much. At the end of the semester and several thousand dollars and sleepless nights later, however, I expect to know this stuff. I've worked hard, struggling through material and homework valiantly. Then when I sit to take those comprehensive finals there is always at least one moment where I read a question and think:

"WTF? We learned about this? When!?" (Yes. I think in abbreviated text speak.)

Needless to say I feel kind of dumb and disappointed about finals this time around, as always, even though I know that I got nothing lower than a B in any of my classes. Now I have two weeks to let my brain reset before my summer class and then I launch into my final undergraduate semester (*gasp*)! Then off to graduate school and then the rest of my life.

Life is so simple when it is just one sentence. It really does help to cut out the bull crap.

Baby/Birthday Blues

It is my brother Russ' birthday. He is 27. My other brother, Gunar, has his birthday on Thursday. He will be 25. It is weird to think that both of my siblings are closer to 30 than they are to 20. Then again - I am headed that same direction myself. I've got a few years yet, but time isn't slowing down for anyone.

Mother's Day was yesterday. I didn't get to see my mom, but I did leave her several improvised songs on her voice mail. Phone-Tag is so much more enjoyable when it is musical. When I did actually get to talk to her she pointed out that this day will mark that she has been a mother for exactly half of her life (Russ being 27 is half of my mom's 54 years). This was shocking for two reasons:

1. It was incredibly math/number/pattern oriented for my very non-mathematical-numerically-challenged-anti-pattern brained mother.
2. It made me realize that my mom is 54. Weird. When was my mom no where close to 30?

Speaking of motherhood and being of a certain age - I must confess that I love children but am absolutely terrified of being pregnant. I have no doubt that once I have the child I will be a capable, loving, and effective mother (I have a great role model) but the whole 9-month incubation period? Yeah. Not so sure about that.

In my deepest moments of pregnancy pooh-poohing I often see something absolutely adorable, such as a two year old boy in jeans running to keep up with his dad who is only walking. There are a scarce few things more precious than a little boy in elastic waist denims. On the opposite side of the spectrum, if I see said little boy in a grocery store, I have not far to look before I see some tabloid telling me that Angelina Jolie is pregnant. Again. And my biological clock instantly stops ticking.

Regardless, I have a long time before I have to consider any such motherly pursuits. All I know is that somewhere in my future there had better be a baby dressed like a pumpkin. I think that I could deal with nine-months of ultimate discomfort as long as I could dress the kid up as a pumpkin.

Dog Eat Dog

My camera and computer are not on speaking terms right now. For some unknown reason my computer is refusing the read my camera. I've installed every driver I can think of and still nothing. So - needless to say - hair pictures are still delayed. Once finals are over (one week from today! Eek!) my computer and I are going to have a heart to heart.

In other news - I have been running lately. It started as a way to help with some stressful situations in my life. It also was because I realized that in high school I could run three miles in thirty minutes, easy, and that I was pretty sure I couldn't do that anymore. Regardless of my rather rigorous biking routine, my running endurance was seriously lacking. So over the past three weeks I've been building to three miles and have recently attained the goal. Is it in thirty minutes? No. Not even close. But that is the next goal (Don't judge me and my pathetically short distances, SJ).

There is more to this story.

I went running yesterday. In the last half a mile of my run, going up the biggest hill of my route, a big black dog comes out of nowhere! Said pooch starts jumping up on my, licking my face and awkwardly getting in the way of my stride. The dog was about seventy pounds (more than half-my weight) and looked to be a lab mix. I just kept running. And the dog followed, occasionally jumping up and slobbering all over me. The dog, which I named Charlie, followed me all the way back to my apartment.

Once I arrived there, I looked at the dog's collar to find absolutely no tags. Awesome.

Part of me wanted to just go into my apartment, shut the door, and leave Charlie to his own devices, but I knew I couldn't do that. He'd followed me near a 1/2 a mile from what I assumed was his 'hood, I was at least obligated to get him back to that area. Plus I also knew I couldn't keep him. Judging by his paws and his head, this dog was no where near full grown (I'm guessing he was about 8 months old) and there was no way I could keep a puppy with my schedule. Plus - he belonged to someone. Not to mention I definitely have a no-pet clause in my lease. A potentially 100 lbs dog would be hard to hide.

So I made a leash out of one of my belts, and in my full sweaty glory, stuck Charlie in my Jeep. We drove back to where he found me, me trying to keep my cool, and he slobbering like crazy. Thus ensued the next hour of knocking on doors and asking if anyone knew Charlie and praying that no one who answered the door would be a creepy serial killer. It was frustrating and exhausting. The people who actually did answer the door were all sincerely sorry that they didn't know Charlie, but all that told me was perhaps this wasn't even Charlie's 'hood. After all - he'd followed me a 1/2 a mile. How far had he traversed before then?

Just as I was about to give up I knocked on the door of a person I knew to have a pesky little dachshund that barked at me every time I ran (I pretend he is cheering me on). An adorable older lady named Georgia answered the door with a flyswatter in hand (which she used to keep her Dachshund, Max, back from the door). Turns out it was her neighbor's dog, but they had just gone to pick up their kids from school. So I thank her and camp out in my car, assuming a quick return.

45 minutes later - they are not back from school and I am getting a little upset. There is a HUGE black dog drooling non-stop on my backseat, licking my ear every chance he gets, and I am in serious need of a shower. Not to mention the laundry that isn't getting done, the finals for which I am not studying, and the dishwasher that needs to be unloaded all because I am sitting in my Jeep waiting for these people. So I went back to my apartment, but left a note on their door which said:

I have your dog.
My name is Leah.
(myp)hon-enum

(because that note doesn't sound like I kidnapped their dog, right?)

A half and hour after getting back to my apartment (which was a whole different adventure) I get a call from the owner, Jeff. Charlie and I load back up in my Jeep, and drive over to their house. Jeff is waiting outside. When I give him back Charlie (whose real name turned out to be Black. Because Charlie was Black. Lamest dog name ever.) I told him that he should invest in getting tags for his canine because most people wouldn't do what I did. That is when Jeff informed me that he had tags in the house, and had them for a long time, but he never had bothered to put them on Black's collar. Also - that this was the third time in the past month that he had gotten loose.

I can't even begin to tell you how upset I was, but lecturing this man wasn't my job. So instead I simply told him that if Black decided to join me for a run again I would simply take him to the Humane Society and he could figure it out from there.

Seriously. Some people just aren't responsible enough for pets.

Beep Beep!

Oh I know that I am a tease, but I still don't have pictures of my new hair yet! It has been no where near the top of my priority list as of late since finals are coming upon me with terrible speed.

Speaking of things going at a terrible speed - I realized something about my driving habits today. When I am about to merge into another lane of traffic (specifically moving to the left) I am often terrified of the idea of hitting/being hit by an oncoming car. Now, that may sound reasonable, but it isn't. I'm not afraid of the cars that actually exist on the road. No. I'm afraid of the bullet cars that are moving so fast that the human eye literally can't see them like in some bad sci-fi/James Bond flick. I am honestly afraid that I am going to get hit by this non-existent vehicle, it is going to total my Jeep, and drive away without me or anyone else having seen it.

Yeah. That might not sound too scary to you, but trying thinking of a way to explain that kind of accident to your insurance company. Or the cops. Or even your friend.

Or don't think about it at all since it is a completely irrational thought that just happens to pop into my brain every time I merge in traffic.