One by one, people went into the office and came back out with a piece of paper and a white box.
My meeting was at noon.
Lorraine Says: Sulk
About two weeks ago, almost everyone at my job got Outlook meeting invites from the new dean of the school. They were individual, 30-minute meetings scheduled throughout the course of the day. Maybe we should've been more suspicious.
Last Thursday, I got to work ready for my meeting at noon. I watched as the first person went into the dean's office for their meeting and suddenly, a security guard came out of another office and posted herself in front of the closed door. She had a box in her hands. You know. Those "put all of your personal crap in here and get out" boxes.
One by one, people went into the office and came back out with a piece of paper and a white box.
My meeting was at noon.
One by one, people went into the office and came back out with a piece of paper and a white box.
My meeting was at noon.
Lorraine Says: Me Me Me
I think people stopped tagging me in memes because I never participated.
Last week, though, Lynsey tagged me in this 11 Facts/11Questions thing and it made me pretty excited because, like I said, no one tags me anymore. It was like being picked for the kickball team, which, have you seen my calves?
Anyways, what you're supposed to do is list 11 facts about yourself, answer the 11 questions the tagger asked you, tag 11 people and ask them 11 questions. That's a whole lot of crap to do, though, so I'm skipping out on the "11 Facts" part of it, because I'm pretty sure you guys don't want to know that much about me and because 9/11 of these facts would in fact be, "I love chocolate."
Onward.
Lynsey's 11 Questions
Last week, though, Lynsey tagged me in this 11 Facts/11Questions thing and it made me pretty excited because, like I said, no one tags me anymore. It was like being picked for the kickball team, which, have you seen my calves?
Anyways, what you're supposed to do is list 11 facts about yourself, answer the 11 questions the tagger asked you, tag 11 people and ask them 11 questions. That's a whole lot of crap to do, though, so I'm skipping out on the "11 Facts" part of it, because I'm pretty sure you guys don't want to know that much about me and because 9/11 of these facts would in fact be, "I love chocolate."
Onward.
Lynsey's 11 Questions
Lorraine Says: I Wish I Had Clear Eyes. That Would Be Awesome.
I spent all of my Valentine's Day crying. Or, I should say, tearing because my allergies were being particularly cruel. Imagine this at my office, if you will:
Lorraine Says: Young Lady
I should've known.
I mean, it isn't anyone's fault, but in the past, concerts have just never worked out well for the late party girls. Our tastes in music are too different. If you hop in Penny's car, there will probably be country music playing. Roxanne will Lady Gaga your face off. My music has been described as "weird shit dot com."
Oh, and occasionally Rox and Pen will both listen to music that makes you want to, ahem, "drop it like it's hot" and etc.
I mean, it isn't anyone's fault, but in the past, concerts have just never worked out well for the late party girls. Our tastes in music are too different. If you hop in Penny's car, there will probably be country music playing. Roxanne will Lady Gaga your face off. My music has been described as "weird shit dot com."
Oh, and occasionally Rox and Pen will both listen to music that makes you want to, ahem, "drop it like it's hot" and etc.
Lorraine Says: But the Good News is That I'm Alive
I have this weird food quirk: I can’t look at or think about my food too much or else it starts to gross me out. This is of course excluding chocolate, which becomes yummier the more you think about it. This is especially true about yogurt. I have to scarf yogurt down before my brain knows what’s happening.
I feel like I’ve been thinking about this blog too much lately. If you stare at words long enough, they start to lose their meaning. If you consider what it is you have to say, it won’t be very long before you come up with the answer- “very little.”
I’m all clamed up.
My father has a food quirk: he can't see onions in or around his food. Last night was my mother's birthday. We went to a Japanese steakhouse with Pink, Cheese Cream, Gailey Ellie and Vyelit. They brought out a little soup and my father happily spooned mouthfuls. My sister sent me a text message: "who's going to tell dad that this soup is full of onions?"
Perhaps these things are all mental.
I feel like I’ve been thinking about this blog too much lately. If you stare at words long enough, they start to lose their meaning. If you consider what it is you have to say, it won’t be very long before you come up with the answer- “very little.”
I’m all clamed up.
My father has a food quirk: he can't see onions in or around his food. Last night was my mother's birthday. We went to a Japanese steakhouse with Pink, Cheese Cream, Gailey Ellie and Vyelit. They brought out a little soup and my father happily spooned mouthfuls. My sister sent me a text message: "who's going to tell dad that this soup is full of onions?"
Perhaps these things are all mental.
Lorraine Says: Remember Who You Are
Siiiiimba.
I know. You’re thinking, “this crazy is gone for a week and she comes back with a line from “The Lion King?!” Then I realized that if you skipped over the title of this post, you have no idea why I just said “Siiiimba.” Do you skip over post titles?
THEN I realized that if you’ve never even seen “The Lion King,” well maybe we can’t be friends.
Anyhow, a funny thing happened between my last post and now. If you’ll recall, I mentioned perhaps letting more "in real life" people know that I blog. You all had wonderful, wisdom-filled words and I thank you for them. Some of you said, “you have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. You have nothing to hide.” My inner Lor was all, “YEAH! I don’t have anything to be ashamed of!
…do I?”
So, I went back. All the way back to the first post and one by one I’ve been combing through the nearly 300 posts ever written on this blog.
HOLY. MOLY.
Want to know where I was for a week? Cowering in SHAME. The sort of shame you feel in your core when someone breaks out the home videos, or if you come across that one diary from middle school that includes the time you went to a church camp in Pennsylvania and fell in total heart with a cute boy who lived in New Jersey, who you would later sneak long distance phone calls to. I’m pretty sure that was just me, but I hope you understand the sentiment.
Let me clarify: there was a point in time where most of my posts followed this basic pattern-
Today I feel _________________.
Now let me summarize some of those posts for you: sad. Happy. Sad. Sad. Happy. Meh. Happy. Meh. Sad. Mad. Mad. Sad. Happy. HAPPY. Meh. Sad. So sad.
Granted there were days even weeks between posts, but re-riding Lorraine’s Emotional Roller Coaster, aka 2009/2010 was exhausting. I quit somewhere in 2010 and figured that if anyone dared go back and read that stuff, they deserved to know whatever they wanted.
In all honesty, though, after the great and terrible shame had passed, I felt a little proud. It’s the kind of pride that punctuates the realization that yes, I once sucked, but I’ve made progress. And despite however I feel about all of those posts, it isn't even that Then Lorraine was that bad. It's just hard to look back and remember. I mean, we're meant to change. We're meant to look back and see better in hindsight. I know I'd feel worse if that weren't true for me.
Now that I've brought up the past, looking back and, um, camp I can bring this up: Bug Juice.
Someone please tell me you remember this show.
It aired on the Disney Channel in the late 90’s and followed a group of tweens at sleep-away camp for the summer and YES, episodes are on YouTube. Apparently, I’m ashamed of discussing my emotions, but not of admitting to spending time watching an almost 14 year old kiddie reality show. Just so we’re clear.
Also not ashamed to say I wanted to be on this show like woah.
Also, also not ashamed to admit that I lightly stalked some of those campers via the Internet. Turns out, they mostly turned out to be really normal, off the grid sort of people. Now, imagine if you will, you are approaching 30, and your equivalent of that one diary you had in middle school is a televised show where you chase after boys, are afraid to swim in the lake and say, “girl power” a lot.
I KNOW, RIGHT. YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF ALREADY.
You’re welcome.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have the theme song to Bug Juice stuck in my head all day.
Bug juice, it doesn’t come in a jar
Bug juice comes from who you are
It has the flavor of what you can becooooome.
Wait... what the hell?
I know. You’re thinking, “this crazy is gone for a week and she comes back with a line from “The Lion King?!” Then I realized that if you skipped over the title of this post, you have no idea why I just said “Siiiimba.” Do you skip over post titles?
THEN I realized that if you’ve never even seen “The Lion King,” well maybe we can’t be friends.
…do I?”
So, I went back. All the way back to the first post and one by one I’ve been combing through the nearly 300 posts ever written on this blog.
HOLY. MOLY.
Want to know where I was for a week? Cowering in SHAME. The sort of shame you feel in your core when someone breaks out the home videos, or if you come across that one diary from middle school that includes the time you went to a church camp in Pennsylvania and fell in total heart with a cute boy who lived in New Jersey, who you would later sneak long distance phone calls to. I’m pretty sure that was just me, but I hope you understand the sentiment.
Let me clarify: there was a point in time where most of my posts followed this basic pattern-
Today I feel _________________.
Now let me summarize some of those posts for you: sad. Happy. Sad. Sad. Happy. Meh. Happy. Meh. Sad. Mad. Mad. Sad. Happy. HAPPY. Meh. Sad. So sad.
Granted there were days even weeks between posts, but re-riding Lorraine’s Emotional Roller Coaster, aka 2009/2010 was exhausting. I quit somewhere in 2010 and figured that if anyone dared go back and read that stuff, they deserved to know whatever they wanted.
In all honesty, though, after the great and terrible shame had passed, I felt a little proud. It’s the kind of pride that punctuates the realization that yes, I once sucked, but I’ve made progress. And despite however I feel about all of those posts, it isn't even that Then Lorraine was that bad. It's just hard to look back and remember. I mean, we're meant to change. We're meant to look back and see better in hindsight. I know I'd feel worse if that weren't true for me.
Now that I've brought up the past, looking back and, um, camp I can bring this up: Bug Juice. It aired on the Disney Channel in the late 90’s and followed a group of tweens at sleep-away camp for the summer and YES, episodes are on YouTube. Apparently, I’m ashamed of discussing my emotions, but not of admitting to spending time watching an almost 14 year old kiddie reality show. Just so we’re clear.
Also not ashamed to say I wanted to be on this show like woah.
Also, also not ashamed to admit that I lightly stalked some of those campers via the Internet. Turns out, they mostly turned out to be really normal, off the grid sort of people. Now, imagine if you will, you are approaching 30, and your equivalent of that one diary you had in middle school is a televised show where you chase after boys, are afraid to swim in the lake and say, “girl power” a lot.
I KNOW, RIGHT. YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF ALREADY.
You’re welcome.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have the theme song to Bug Juice stuck in my head all day.
Bug juice, it doesn’t come in a jar
Bug juice comes from who you are
It has the flavor of what you can becooooome.
Wait... what the hell?
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