Sunday, November 07, 2004
whoo hoo!
So...you know that Blur song, Song #2, right?
C'mon, I know you do. Don't even try to deny it.
It starts with...
"I got my head checked
By a jumbo jet
It wasn't easy
but nothing is
No
When I feel heavy metal
And I'm pins and I'm needles
Well I lie and I'm easy
All of the time I am never sure
Why I need you
Pleased to meet you..."
Those are probably the lyrics you don't remember. What you do remember is the WHOO HOO chorus, the one where everyone in the school gym or club or cheesy wedding reception (though it has to be at least a sort-of chill event to be playing the song in the first place) starts jumping around crazily and singing (read: yelling) along. I've had this song in my head for several days now, and I've been trying to figure out why, since these have not been the sunniest days of my life (though there were for sure some good moments). My conclusion is quite simply that it's got something to do with how that song gets everyone in the room jumping around, whether their life is total shite or a constant party, and I think that's where I want to be now. So, things aren't perfect. But the song says jump, and I'm not missing out.
Some updates for all ye who follow my humble existence:
Wednesday:
-went to bro's badminton game. Remembered how silly and traumatizing high school was just by walking through the halls again. They lost but he got everyone on the opposing team to give him dog pounds (think high fives for black people) afterwards, which was pretty humourous.
-finally did the bloodletting:
They took so long asking me personal questions (eg: have you ever slept with a man who slept with another man?....uh, I am not the one to be asking) and checking my arms for track marks (all clear, no heroin for me!) that I started to freak out and by the time I was calm again my body had decided it should go into shock and so my blood pressure dropped and all my blood went out of my extremities and rushed to the big cocktail party in my organs. I started to get really cold and despite being aided by numerous heating pads and blankets, it took them forever to get my blood out.
When they had finally removed the needle (which, by the way, is not small like a blood test syringe, but rather large and painful) and I got to go sit down and have some cookies and sickly-sweet "juice," I started to feel like I was going to pass out and throw up as well, and since I didn't want to do both at the same time, I informed a volunteer that things were not going well. He snapped into action and the nurses got me to put my head between my knees while they wheeled a stretcher over and put me on it and started applying compresses. I survived, but my birthday dinner with the Boy that evening made me feel like I was a woozy, well-dressed monkey in the best restaurant in town.
The next day (Thursday, that is) I felt profoundly and unpleasantly stoned, as though someone had hot-boxed a room full of carbon monoxide and locked me inside while announcing that it would be fun. I climbed the three flights of stairs to my class and was so out-of-breath I felt like a smoker. I declined the gyme and came home, where I continued to feel like crap until the next morning, which was, of course, my birthday.
Friday:
-all things considered, the day went well. I went to the gyme, ripped up my quads and abs and calves and back and such, had numerous people tell me I looked 18 (gee, thanks guys), went to see Anthony Bourdain, chef and author extraordinaire and connoisseur of the word 'FUCK' (and its composites, 'fucked,' 'fucking,' 'fucked-up,' 'absofuckingloutely,' etc.), got drunk as a skunk at said event, and then came home and deep-fried some won-tons for my small if loyal crew of birthday followers. I wished more people had showed up, but I was pleased with those who did come and even more pleased that they brought tequila. Pretty sad the Boy didn't show up until the tail end of things...guess someone's gotta be there to lead the cheers. This still felt profoundly unfair on my birthday.
Saturday:
-had another dinner, this time for family and family friends, which was very pleasant and definitely more relaxed than the night before, probably because I wasn't doing all the work this time around. Got some serious loot: some pjs, a silk-and-fleecy bathrobe, a flat-iron & hair dryer set, a book, an original ceramic mug from my mom's best friend, a pink UBC hoodie, a ski jacket, and a hastily-written card and gift certificates from the bro. The ink was still wet, and I watched him fill it out immediately before handing it to me. Classy, bro, classy. My mom went all out and bought cupcakes that spelled "Happy 21st Birthday Naomi" which I wasn't expecting, and I was very impressed by it all. Lots of people called me, although as usual my preference is to actually have them be there, I was glad they thought of me before Guy Fawkes.
-spent the night at the Boy's new place, hung out with his roommate and partner-in-cheer, Kune (rhymes with Dune). Actually really like her and glad that he likes her too -- in a wholly platonic manner (not sure whether I'm gladder about the liking or the platonicness of it). The place is huge and refreshingly structurally-sound, with no mice (although spiders galore) but generally dirty and a bit of a hole. It was also hot and incredibly stuffy, and as a result I slept very little.
Sunday:
-surprised I did anything at all with the day, considering how wasted I was from the night before, but managed to do some reading and go to the gyme with my mom to wreck my shoulders again.
-saw a girl at the gyme who really scared me, because she had either been very recently released from a concentration camp or else had a very severe case of anorexia. She was so thin that her body resembled that of a malnourished child in the Warsaw ghetto -- and I know since I've seen the pictures in class. Her arms were like sticks and her face was completely hollow. I actually thought about spotting her on the weights because I was afraid she would actually snap herself like a twig. Instead, I watched carefully how she watched me, someone probably 70 pounds heavier than her, and saw a kind of sad victory on her face. I responded with a victory of my own -- that of being 70 pounds heavier and genuinely happy for it. I knew I couldn't help her but I wanted to do so more than I've wanted a lot of things lately.
Tomorrow is back to the school-week, and much much work before I head to Calgary to see the extendeds on Thursday. Should be a fun grind, but I'm not too worried. I've gotten by well at the last minute lately. Case in point: that Hemingway presentation I panicked about got an A in the end!
Yay.
Thanks to everyone who came to my parties.
Here's to another year of not dying in a fiery motor crash.
Good even.
-The Unvirginal Maiden of 21.
