Adult in Training

Bugs have never really scared me that much.  In fact, when we lived in the suite sophomore year, I was the resident spider killer – even when I was on the phone long-distance to my family.  And, as I mentioned before, I did shower once with an African Cave-Dwelling Spider.  But there is one thing that has been starting to give me the creeps since I’ve been living in this house: Ladybugs.

I know you’re probably laughing at me right now.  It’s like being afraid of bunnies or something.  Ladybugs are one of the only bugs that little girls won’t run screaming from.  They don’t bite, the look pretty…what’s scary about them?  The ones in my house are magical.  It’s really, really creepy.

At the beginning of the year, we had a biblical infestation of ladybugs.  They swarmed our house every day, there were hundreds of them clinging to the walls outside.  And then, as soon as the sun went down, they disappeared.  It was so weird.  We tried to deter them by spraying them with the hose pretty much every day, but all that seemed to do was anger them.  If ladybugs get angry.  We had to vacuum Berman’s room pretty much every day for dead and living ladybugs.  They found a hole in her window somehow.  They also made their way into all the other rooms, which was sort of annoying when you’re trying to sleep and ladybugs are landing on your face.  But then winter came, and they all died, and we were lady bug free for like three or four months.

Until now.

They are spawning in my washroom.  I don’t know how they’re doing it.  Or where they came from.  But every time I go in there and see one more, it gives me a rather ominous feeling.  It started with just one.  Which is weird enough, when it’s the middle of winter, and all the other ladybugs have died.    But one, I can deal with.  Then there were two.  Then, yesterday there were three.  Now there are five.  Something is wrong.  Where are they coming from?!  I’m pretty sure that ladybugs hatch, and don’t “mate” like mammals, or spontaneously reproduce like…aliens.

So maybe I’m being a little paranoid.  Or maybe I’ve been kicking it old school too much, watching “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” too much.  But it’s weird.

Its not a secret that I yearn to be famous.  I’ve made no bones about it – in fact at one point that was my official response to the question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  All my friends’ parents thought I was kidding.  But if there is one thing true about me, its that I never kid.  But my question is this: How does one become a member of this elusive club?

Because it seems like a pretty sweet deal.

For instance: I am watching American Idol, and Paula just debuted her comeback video.  How long has it been since Paula has done anything since drink herself silly on American Idol?  I’m going to say it’s been at least 15 years. And really, before that?  She danced with a cartoon cat.  If she was taking a page from Whitney Houston, who wanted to “dance with somebody” I’m fairly certain that even during the crazy eighties, while Whitney was swirling around a room that contained only a table, chair, window, coat rack and gay backup dancer – notice the lack of walls – even then, Whitney wouldn’t have danced with a cartoon cat.  Because Whitney wasn’t doing drugs then. But seriously.  And now she gets to make a comeback?

Unfair.  I would just like to break on the scene.  I would even settle for 10 minutes of fame.  I don’t even need the whole 15. I would settle for being a junior publisher’s terrible mistake.  Although, I’d like to think I wouldn’t be that disappointing. Once I get back to having a real life, and stop talking to Avalanche like she is a person, and not just a dog that responds only by spider-biting me.  If only I knew someone famous, then I could totally ride their coat tails.  Like Bow Wow and Romeo and… who else has famous relatives and no skills?  And why can’t I be skilled in an area like that?  It’s harder to ride coat tails if you want to be a published memoirist and not just a recording artist.

But since I’ve been thinking a lot of how to become famous (thinking a lot, but not coming up with any ideas) I was also thinking about who I would have play me, should my life somehow provide fodder for a movie-of-the-week.  Actually, I think about this all the time.  A girl has to be prepared, if I should die under tragic circumstances, or disappear or something, I need to have things in order.  I like to have things planned.  So, to play me in a movie, I would elect: Zooey Deschanel. You may recognize her from: Failure to Launch (as the crazy best friend), The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (as Trillian), Eulogy (as the lead female) or Elf (as Jovie).  And here’s why I would pick her:  In a lot of her movies she has a really dry sense of humour and a cutting wit, so I know she can nail my personality pretty well.  And I think she’s pretty in a non-conventional way, and everyone knows the first rule of the “Who Would Play You in a Movie” game is to pick someone who is prettier than you are, since you wouldn’t want everyone who sees it to think you are uglier than you were in your real life.

Or, once I become famous, I can make my comeback by playing myself in a movie-of-the-week.  It’s the best of every world.

I hate Valentine’s Day.  And I’m not just saying it to be a bitter single girl.  If possible, I hated it more when I was a – terrible – girlfriend.  It’s a stupid holiday.  It’s good when you’re younger, and you get valentines from everyone in the class – because the other kids’ moms make then give one to everyone.  And you get lots of candy and chocolates from your parents.  And a mini-party at school.  Who wouldn’t enjoy that?

But when you are 22, and you are a professional third wheel, it’s a lame holiday.  And even the people I know who are in relationships, some of them don’t like it.  And it sucks that Hallmark has foisted this holiday on  the masses, and anyone that doesn’t like it is seen as cynical or bitter or unromantic.

The only Valentine’s Day that I spent with a boyfriend was a total bust.  It had all this pressure around it, and I had no idea what was expected of me.  And to top it all off I spent the morning in the Concord ER, trying to get someone to look at a mysterious (though non-STD related) rash that I had developed over a month ago.  And then I spent the remainder of the day doped up on Industrial-Strength Benadryl.  So after I nearly fell asleep in the car on the way to the restaurant, in my food at the restaurant and on the way home from the restaurant, I passed out in bed while my boyfriend and I were (trying) to watch “Ray”.  So, awesome.

I just don’t get it.  People complain all the time that Christmas has become over-commercialized.  And no one says they’re cynical.  In fact, lots of people agree with them.  Sometimes I do.  But as a society, we eat up Valentine’s Day - which is, as far as I can tell,  a holiday based very, VERY, loosely in Catholicism (since, technically it’s St. Valentine’s Day) and over-hyped by Hallmark, Hersey and anyone who owns a jewellery store.

So call me a cynic if you want to.  But I really hate February 14th.  I would skip it every year if I could.  I wish I was like Paris Hilton or something, and had the popular-culture power to just invent a day for single people or something.  A way to celebrate being single, and being fine with being single.  Where all the single people, and especially all the people trapped in “The Friend Zone” or stuck as the third wheel on someone else’s relationship (tip: always claim that you are the big wheel in the front) could be appreciated.  Or even, dare I say, envied?  Once I get famous, I think that will be my first order of business.

So some of you may know that I am a columnist for my school’s newspaper, The NewEnglander (and no, there shouldn’t be a space there).  It’s a pretty pimp job, I won’t lie.  Every two weeks they print my column, and my editor doesn’t give me any rules.  Whatever I’m thinking about, that’s what I get to write about, and that’s what they print.  I won’t lie, when I found out, I told practically everyone I saw.  Anyways.  Here’s the column that will be appearing in news stands (and by news stands I mean in piles around campus) tomorrow:

 I’ve lived part-time in the US now for five years.  And I still don’t really understand some things.  The electoral system is one of them.

Growing up in Canada, my family tried to instill in me the grand importance of voting.  And so, while there are some times I fail to see the merit of growing-up, I do secretly enjoy voting.  That, and buying lottery tickets, was the best part of turning 18.

So naturally, when I came to NEC in 2003, I thought it would be beneficial to try and understand American government.  I mean, this is supposed to be the most powerful country in the world.  The solution I came up with was to watch “The West Wing” every morning I didn’t have class.

I’m sure you can guess that while I was drawn in by the characters, I didn’t really learn that much about American government.  So the job fell to my friends to educate me. Except that when I asked them questions like: “Why are there so many candidates but only two parties?” or “Wait, so you vote twice?” and “So you vote, but it doesn’t really count…?” the answers were always vague.

Five years later, I still don’t really understand.  I know that right now the country is in the middle of the primaries.  But why doesn’t everyone vote on the same day?  That seems less time-consuming and less expensive for candidates. Also, what makes some of these candidates think that they can win?  Is there a limit to the number of candidates a party can support?  Because the answer to that question seems like: “Haha, no!”

And please, let’s not get started with the Elector College. Who thought that it made sense to let the people vote, but then have a fail-safe, so that if the people – those that your government is supposed to be of, by and for – get it wrong, a group of special individuals can ensure that the right person gets into office. That worked really well with the 2000 elections.  I mean, at least it gave Al Gore the time off to make “An Inconvenient Truth”.  So everyone wins I guess. 

It’s all so confusing!  No wonder most of my friends don’t vote.  At home, it’s easy.  There are five parties (six if you live Quebec).  Before Election Day, each party elects a leader.  Come Election Day (that’s right, everything happens in one day) you vote for a party.  The leader of the party with the most votes becomes Prime Minister.  And there you have it; the Canadian Parliamentary system in a nutshell.

So I’m sure you can understand the quandary I find myself in whenever I try to comprehend the hoopla that is going on right now.  I frequently turn to John Stewart and Steven Colbert for guidance.  I don’t think I could handle the “serious” news shows.  For one thing, they take longer than 15 minutes.  For another, they may as well be speaking another language most of the time.  At least I can count on a laugh when I watch “The Daily Show”.  I’m trying to break away from constantly wearing a confused frown, as I’m told it causes premature wrinkles, and at nearly 23, I am no longer what some may call “a spring chicken”.  

And so the learning odyssey continues.  Although, if I am honest, I don’t think that I will be able to fully understand things by the time I leave in May.  But maybe, if I’m lucky, I can convince my friends to vote. Because even though I don’t understand everything, I understand enough to realize that democracies only work when people get involved.  Or, if you prefer the words of my mother: “If you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to complain.”