Wake Me Up When September Ends

I'd like to open this post with a couple of relatively trivial news yet fun items:

1) I have finally hopped onto the Twitter bandwagon. Does that make me a Twit? Anyway, I currently have one follower and it's the guy that lives across the hall from me. Also, I don't know who to follow aside from random celebrities that I adore. So I would love for you guys to seek out my friendship in the Twitter Universe and show me how it's all done. My page is over here.

2) I'm signed up to do a live musical broadcast on younow.com at 4pm today (that's Pacific Standard time - if you live on the East Coast it's going to be at 7pm). It's a really cool site, I'm excited about it. You start with a minute and if people "like" what you're doing you get more time. So, if you're in the mood to pop over there in a couple of hours and cheer me on, I would totally love that.

In other news, my CD project is in limbo because the guy that's mixing it dropped off the face of the Earth one day and woke up in Kansas. I think I nearly cried when I got the text message with that news in it. I feel as if that one five-track disc is the missing piece in my whole rock and roll scheme. And until it's done, I'm destined to be stuck in limbo. Did you know that last week I actually wore PANTY HOSE because I was attempting to get a job as a church pianist? It felt downright unnatural. The worst part is that they didn't even hire me because they need someone who can play the organ too. But I'm over it. I've started putting up ads all over Craigslist advertising my fine skills as a funeral musician. I figure that people are always dying and in need of piano accompaniment. Sadly, I'm yet to get a response.

But enough about jobs! I love what The Poet always says to me: "Lauren, you have a job - you're a rock star. The pay just sucks right now." I try to maintain that mentality, though sometimes it's difficult.

I was talking to an old friend yesterday and we decided that September is always the worst month because everyone goes back to school except you and it forces you to become nostalgic and re-evaluate the current direction of your life. My friend just got hired as a full-time personal trainer though, so I don't really know if he understood what I was talking about. He excitedly talked about how he was going to make so much money at his new job and asked me all about my job prospects, suggesting that maybe I should just go back to school.

I really have no desire to go back to school, but I've noticed that a lot of people are doing it, probably just as a thing to do.

(from Scott Pilgrim vol. 5... yes, my love for these comics is shameless)

Anyway, I'm slipping into rambling-mode here.  I've spent a little too much time in my head lately, can you tell? 

Last night was good, though.  It's been awhile since the whole crew has gone out because Purple Hair moved closer to the river and The Fonz has been living in the woods.  But we all came together last night for pizza at Sizzle Pie and drinks at the B Side (gah... I feel like such hipster scum when I drop names of places like that).  It was really good to get out of my neighborhood and even better to get out of my brain. 

Somehow, I ended up as designated driver, which is usually a blessing in disguise.  Honestly, I have never woken up in the morning and thought to myself "Gee, I'm so glad I had all of that alcohol last night!  I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to be so obnoxious and now I feel all happy and peppy and wonderful!"  But I digress.  The end of the night was particularly spectacular, with The Mad Scientist babbling incoherently to himself in my truck and The Poet shoved between us trying hard not to laugh. 

"People gotta do what people gotta do!  I saaaaaid people gotta do what people gotta do!"

These are the words that The Mad Scientist said the whole way home.  He's my friend, but duuuude... Next time, he's taking a bus.

I did get a nice "Sorry for my drunken behavior" email from him this morning.  I'm starting to get whole collection of those.  Usually they leave his computer at about 6am and are addressed to whoever was present on the scene of his drunken strangeness.  My personal favorites include an apology for publicly groping someone and a clarification assuring us that he does not really think he's Kanye West. 

I really don't think about how strange my life is until I start typing things out like this... 

Adventures In Special Ed (And Other Friday Ramblings)

So I've been working a little bit in the past couple of days.

Don't get too excited, it's just a part-time sub job. Should last about a week. That is, unless I'm feeling brave and want to apply for the position permanently. Which might not be a bad idea, considering that I'm moving out in a couple of weeks and the rent money needs to come from somewhere. But I need to give myself another day or two with this job to know I can handle it.

Traditionally, I avoid children. I have little to no passion for the education system and very limited knowledge about how to deal with those labeled as "special ed kids." But when I got the call asking if I could spend a week hanging out with an autistic kindergarten boy for a couple of hours each day, I said "yes" because I need any means of employment I can find.

I was dreading it. My last experience with special ed involved chasing a severely retarded and extremely violent two-hundred-pound black girl down the hallway, so I wasn't exactly thrilled to do it again.

But alas, I drove my rock star butt over to the grade school yesterday morning and signed in at the front office. Next thing I knew, I was being introduced to Gabe.

Gabe is Mexican but doesn't really speak much Spanish or English. He's still in the process of being tested but they're thinking he's autistic. He likes to dance while he walks and make bizarre animal sounds. He loves high fives and coloring scribbling.

And after about an hour of cutting, gluing, playing, and reading with him, I deactivated the cynical part of my brain and decided he's adorable.

Okay, so he wasn't that adorable when he threw a big stomping fit because he didn't want to wear a coat outside. Or when he accidentally spit on me. Or when he insisted on laying under the table with his hands down his pants while the teacher was trying to read everyone a story. But most other times he was adorable. And I think he likes me. He's my new little friend.

He sits next to a little Italian kid named Jeovanny (yes, spelled just like that). Okay, he could be Arabic or even Asian for all I know. I have the hardest time telling what nationality kids are these days. Anyway, Jeovanny wears his hair all greased up in a faux hawk and has a gold chain hanging around his neck. Today he drew a picture of a stick figure with big circles on his arms. "It's a man with muscles!" he informs me.

"Is that you?" I ask (using my kid-friendly voice, of course). "Do you have muscles, Jeovanny?"
He frowns. "No, I do not have muscles, I only have bones. Someday, I have muscles."

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you America's Next Top Mob Boss.

Jeovanny also told me that he plays the drums and demonstrated with crayons on the edge of the table. "Look, I play drums!" he says, beating the crap out of two crayons.

Okay, so maybe Jeovanny made my "adorable" list today as well. *sigh* I think it was the faux hawk that did it.

I know, I know. The fact that I just used the word "adorable" to describe real live children is all a little Twilight Zone-ish. Moving on.

I got roped into getting the music together for my cousin's wedding ceremony tomorrow. It's all a bit last minute but I will do my best to go into DJ Lauren mode and get it done. If my cousin hadn't specifically specified that she liked music with "a bit of a twang" (and also if it wasn't the most important day of her life), I would totally bust out this CD I found on Amazon today while surfing for appropriate music.

Yeah...it's hair metal versions of traditional wedding music.

There. Does that make up for admitting to occasionally liking children? :P

On a completely unrelated side note, I believe this is post #91. That means post #100 is coming right up! Holy Toledo, Batman! I really should come up with something epic for #100. Any grand ideas?

Hehe. I'm sure I'll think of something. Maybe I'll make some sort of list about something mildly interesting that goes all the way to 100. Maybe I'll write a song and film myself playing it on the keytar. Or maybe I'll just do a bunch of shout-outs to all my bloggy amigos. Who knows. We'll see what happens.

And with that, I'm off like a herd of turtles. I need to figure out what I'm wearing to the wedding tomorrow (probably some sort of dress that I can wrangle audio equipment in). Then I need to meet up with my friends to stay up half the night watching b-rated horror films (yes, that is a need - bad movie nights are my favorite).

Happy Friday, amigos.

Still Not Feeling Like a Rock Star...

Disclaimer: There's a Kimya Dawson lyric that says something like, "If you don't like body functions, don't read my blog." That lyric could be applied to this post. You have been warned.
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Tonight was special.

To make a long story short, I can now cross "throw up twice during a presentation" off of my list of things to do in life.

Fortunately, I was able to make an awkward exit and run to the bathroom while another girl in my group was talking. I hurled into a trashcan in the safety of the ladies' room, a disgusted Chinese exchange student being the only witness. I ran my hands under cold water and made it back to the classroom in time to finish the presentation. I told no one why I had left and proceeded to act like everything was normal. It was still a very mortifying experience though. There's nothing like standing in front of a group of people and realizing that it would be a good idea to visually locating all available trashcans in the room. It was like my sixth grade winter band concert all over again. *shudder*

Weirdly enough, the prof seemed to like the presentation. He was especially impressed by the video I made, which was funny because I cut it together last night when I was grumpy and had a fever. Apparently the video distracted him from the fact that I was turning green and visually locating all the trashcans in the room.

I can't wait until school is over and done with.

Now that I've got this rock tour plan cooked up, I really can't wait to graduate and be done with this whole college thing.

The map looks at me every day from it's perch on my wall. It's calling my name. It's saying, "Lauren! Lauren! I am the United States! Make rock music in meeee!"

Actually, I've never heard it say those exact words (or any words at all, really). But you get the point.

Anyway, now that I've thrown up a couple of times, I am officially sick and can spend my evening irresponsibly blogging and looking at keytars on ebay. Okay, so maybe I was doing that before I threw up, but now I can do it free of guilt.

Dear Keytar,

The more I think about you, the more I want you. You are cooler than an accordion but still have a lot of personality. You are probably not as heavy as my accordion and I don't have to squeeze you to get you to make noise. Like I said in an earlier post, I wish it was at least semi-practical to throw money into you. Maybe you can be mine someday.

Love,
Lauren

Gah. I am writing letters to inanimate objects. I should go to bed.

Goodnight, oh universe.

<3

Blinding You With SCIENCE!

I have physics lab in a little bit. I have absolutely no desire to go but I need to pass physics. It's an easy gen ed class, but I'm having the hardest time caring. All I really want to do right now is be a rock star. And last time I checked, rock stars don't take physics.

Not sure if rock stars run around in goggles making soap in their front yards either, which is what Ryan and I did over spring break. I really wasn't kidding when I mentioned Original Sound Trash-themed soap in that video a couple of posts back. Hey, every band needs their trademark.

I think we were high off of the fumes at this point. Don't play with lye, kiddos. It's nasty stuff.

Our first batch of soap is still curing on my windowsill. It was an experimental batch. We even tried scenting it with some tea we don't like. If it turns out okay, we may have Amish Housewife Day Part Two and mass produce OST soap to sell at shows alongside shirts and buttons.

Hi, we're eccentric. :D