Archives of Our Lives

A New Lease

by Camille Posted on April 16, 2009

When I was growing up, my mom always used to say, “I have a new lease on life,” any time something exciting was on the horizon.

Naturally, as with anything cool my parents taught me as a kid, I do the same.

So, readers, I would like to announce today that I have a new lease on life. This used to happen to me a lot—any time something came up that I was excited about, or looking forward to, it would give me a new lease on life. I suppose for a suicidal person, this might be too literal a sentiment, but I’m not suicidal. (And if you are, please don’t do it. Seriously. Email me. I’ll be your friend.)

Anyway, yes. I have a new lease on life. For awhile there I was feeling a bit blue, but I am over it 100% as of today. Here’s why:

1. The weather has finally cut me a break:

Would you look at that? Would you? You know what that is? I’ll tell you—it’s amazing. And wonderful. And tomorrow I just might go rollerblading like a dork-fish to celebrate.

2. I have a friend. A neighbor girl who’s young, married, and kidless (just like me), dropped in to visit me tonight. It was kind of random, and at first I was scared because, well…I’m sort of awkward around other human beings…but I really did enjoy chatting with her. Who knows? Maybe she left and vowed never to come back because I’m too weird, but at least I had a friend for one night. (Hello, Mesa. I know I have some wonderful friends down there—I have not forsaken you. But it’s just sort of nice to have a friend that maybe I could borrow a cup of sugar from if my mother-in-law is out of town and I break into her house anyway, but her sugar jar is empty. You know?)

3. This eight-page paper I received back, graded, today:

And, by the same token, this:

That’s an A+. On a paper worth 35% of my final grade. An A+…as in, 100%…as in, 35 out of 35…as in, take that, other mean professor—you don’t know everything, do you? {I suspected as much.} Potential? Fulfilled. At least for now.

I still have to write two more final exams, and get one more paper graded, but do you want to know the truth? I could FAIL every other class and still be floating on air, because this means I’m not a flop of a writer, like I once thought.

(Okay, I actually would care if I failed my other two classes, because that would be a waste of 2,000 international student tuition dollars, and I hate wasted money. But I could pass with a low C in each class and still be happy… Okay, okay…a high B. Final offer.)

I feel like a celebrity. I’d like to thank “Anonymous My Sister,” for editing all my papers this semester, including this 100% award-winning blue ribbon one (it got a blue ribbon in my head). Also, thank you to my mom and dad, who taught me to read and write—I wouldn’t be here today without you guys! I’d like to thank Poor Kyle, for reading everything I write even though he doesn’t really like to read. And finally, a huge thank-you goes out to the professor who gave me 100%. I know some professors believe that NO paper can EVER be 100% perfect, because there’s always room for improvement. Thank you, American Lit. Professor, for not being one of those.

***I threw that last bit in to see if it would qualify me for Jen’s weekly Spin Cycle, the topic of which is “celebrity” this week. I realise it is more than just a stretch—it’s not even logical. I thought I’d give it a shot anyway. Jen, don’t link to me if it goes against the nature of the Spin. I will understand.***

Posted in It's All Good, my edjumacation and me, Overall Good Things, spin cycle | Tagged 100% English Essays | 20 Comments

Time Flies When You’re Trying to Cheer Up.

by Camille Posted on April 15, 2009

**MEMBERS OF THE UBO, UPDATED IN REAL TIME**

1. Whitney
1.5. Anonymous my sister
2. Shesten
3. Anna
4. Geneva
5. Jami
6. Lauren
7. Alex
8. RatalieNose
9. You’re Next!

“I need to go check in with the Wii™ Fit,” I reminded myself not long ago, “It’s been a few days, I think. It’s gonna be mad at me and tell me my Wii™ Fit age is now 80, and that’s never an easy pill to swallow.”

I kept putting it off, busying myself with laundry and homework and various trifles, until finally I went to check in. Lo and behold, it had not been just a day or two, but eleven.

Weak sauce. That’s me.

I was flabbergasted when I saw how long my hiatus had been. It seemed impossible that it had been such a long break—over a week—but then, that’s how it goes, doesn’t it? Time flies when you’re having a three-part existential meltdown {Part I, Part II, Part III}. [I should add a note here, lest you all start worrying about my mental health: I’m fine. There’s no denying I’ve been feeling a little blue over the last few weeks, but I’m getting happier every day. When I joke about depression, it’s my way of cheering up, however slightly. And pretty soon, I’ll stop altogether. Kay? Kay.]

The good news is that, over the eleven days, I was able to maintain my weight at 146. That is saying a lot, because I sort of lost my mind, and a major part of a healthy lifestyle is mind power.

You want my tips for keeping even a semblance of sanity in the face of overwhelming dread and turmoil that is finals week? I’ll share them with you, because I sharing is caring, and I’m nothing if not a caring soul. : ) {I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used a “: )” in a post on this website! This is history in the making…}

Cheer Up Charlie Tips:

1. Move at least 30 minutes a day {even if it’s not on the Wii™ Fit}.

I don’t look nearly this peppy when I’m on the Wii™ Fit. Image {and witty article} from here.

Most days I just walk. {I jog, too, but only occasionally [and by “occasionally, I mean three times since January.]} I’m a firm believer that walking is what’s helped me lose weight since Christmas.

2. Stock up on DDP™.

I used this image of the old-school can because it reminds me of simpler times—times when soda cans didn’t need to be revamped every few years to stay delicious. Image from here.

Don’t even bother trying to track, or limit, DDP™ intake, until the storm has blown over—it’s too disheartening. I make sure I never run out of DDP™ (because that would be catastrophic during a major study session). On the other hand, I know I shouldn’t be putting so many legal stimulants into my body, so I’ve cut a deal with myself: I can drink as much as I want, no questions asked, as long as I cancel each DDP™ out with a large glass of water. Then, when the hurricane is over, I will cut back by 95%.

3. Plan a vacation to the Cayman Islands.

Plan it, and then do everything in your power to make it happen. Image from here.

4. Coordinate a ground-breaking gathering with one of your favourite bloggers. Then try and make that happen, too.

{Stay tuned for exciting news about the UBO, by the way.}

Along those lines, I’d like to take a poll of who, here, would be willing/able/anxious to come to a party. (Oh my gosh, this is just like grade school: “Will you come to my party?” It was pathetic then, and it’s a little pathetic now, too.) See, here’s the thing. As you know, I have joined forces with Lauren {of Busy Bee Lauren world-renowned fame} to put together a meet ‘ n greet…a mix ‘n mingle…a get-to-know-our-friends event…during the time I’ll be in Arizona next month.

As excited as I am to meet all of you, I also have a lot of fears: First, I’m worried I’ll be a dork (which is a very legitimate fear, by the way—I know me). Second, I’m worried that you’ll see how awkward I really am in person, and I’ll lose every reader I have, except maybe Poor Kyle, but he never comments anyway so where’s the fun in that. And last, I’m already embarrassed because I suspect a lot more people will be coming to meet Lauren than me. It’s kind of like Student Council elections, except this is in real time, and I will be able to watch as the numbers strike up against me. (Insecure much?)

Can you blame me? There’s really no contest. Image from here.

Anyway, I have to get over that last one, because Lauren is seriously cool, with pretty pretty hair, and she’s a vegetarian (holy, intimidating!). It is what it is.

So, aside from all my fears, I’m really going to do this. I think the awesome will outweigh the scary.

Here’s the question: Who still wants to come, now that we have some details? {Well, one detail…}

When: Saturday, May 9, 2009. Lunchtime.
Where: TBD. {Somewhere in or around Mesa, AZ.}

See, before we decide if we’ll have it at a restaurant or a house or a park, we need a head count. So, if you’re interested in coming, please leave a comment on this post (for future updates, make sure to include your email address, which will not be visible to anyone but me and Lauren and probably my tech guy, Poor Kyle {but he’s not a stalker, I swear}).

Several people mentioned that doing it at someone’s house would be fun, but I think that seems like a lot of work for any one person, especially if we get a big turnout. So we’re also tossing around the idea of a picnic at a park, or Cafe Rio/Costa Vida. It all depends on you, my friends. And, of course, if you have any other suggestions of locations or food themes, please don’t hesitate to pipe in—even if you won’t be able to make it, we still appreciate the input. We value your ideas.

Truly.

(Oh, and readers? Please don’t leave me hanging here. If Busy Bee Lauren gets 500 takers and I don’t get even one…I might die of shame. I am recovering from an existential meltdown, you know. It wouldn’t be good for my health.)

Posted in blogger finger, friends, It's All Good, United Blog Order | Tagged blog gatherings, existential meltdown | 23 Comments

This is the Part Where I Get Over Myself and Stop Being Depressed.

by Camille Posted on April 15, 2009

There are two things I have learned about dieting—excuse me, I mean “healthy living” (because it’s a lifestyle change, not a diet, you know {“dieting” has become another victim of the politically incorrect movement, so let’s all thank the ’90s}). I have learned:

1) Will power doesn’t have anything to do with muscle tone.

2) Exercising self-control doesn’t burn any calories.

Ironic, isn’t it? Power, exercise, control…all these words imply some sort of mighty mighty overthrow of gluttony, but at the end of the day, it’s nothing but a bunch of hot air.

In an ideal world, I would lose weight based on what I haven’t eaten since Christmas. Think about it: how many holiday candies, baked goods, Girl Scout cookies, fancy restaurant desserts, Dairy Queen™ cherry dipped cones, cheesecakes, and glasses of strawberry lemonade have I turned down since December 30th? At least five pounds worth. This weekend alone, I turned down baskets full of Cadbury™ mini eggs, cream-filled chocolates, Caramilks™, Mars Bars™, birthday cake, Saskatoon berry pie+ice cream, and my own dadgum homemade cookies! If I had consumed even half of what I was offered this week, I would have gained many many pounds.

Shouldn’t it naturally follow, then, that I ought to have lost many many pounds, simply by exercising restraint for days on end?

Ah, but no: exercise of restraint—though comparable to marathon-running in exhaustiveness and difficulty—doesn’t actually burn a single calorie. It’s one of the greatest injustices of my life.

The good news is this: I have lost 19 pounds (it was up to 21, but what can I say? I’m only human} since December 30th, and my pants—what few pairs I own—are falling off my bum. {I suppose that last part doesn’t necessarily qualify as “good news,” but that’s just me, the eternal optimist!}

The bad news is: I started a Biggest Loser competition with my mom, my sister, and my friend, after I had already lost my first 19 pounds. Losing another ten has proved very difficult for me. Which means, in another day or two, I will likely have to part with $20, because I will probably not be the biggest loser.

But let’s end on a bright note (again with the eternal optimism nonsense): I have lost 19 pounds, and I am not giving up my quest to lose another ten before June 20th. I look back on pictures like these below {I snapped them myself in November (almost the height of my weight gain)}, and I can see a difference:

See, I had intended to post about Geneva’s necklace all the way back then, but I just couldn’t figure out why my face looked so plump in these pictures.

…I tried shifting my hair around…

…and I tried turning my head different angles…

…but I still wasn’t happy with my appearance. Finally, I just cut my face out of the pictures, but that didn’t really solve my problem—it just cropped itself out of my immediate awareness. It was a crop-out cop-out.

I never did post about the necklace, until yesterday, that is. Oh, sure, I’ll probably always have insecurities about my body. But never again do I want to feel like I did back in November—like I had to hide my face because someone I knew from high school might read my blog and feel satisfied that I’d put on weight.

And if my $20 is going to such a worthy cause—that three of the women I love most in my life are working to improve their health and self-esteem—well…let’s just say…

…it’s a very small price to pay. I’m not rich, but I’d pay that times ten, if it would help the people I love feel this way.

And that’s why, when Poor Kyle was Photoshopping™ the pictures for yesterday’s post, I asked him to please leave my pimples just how they were. (You can see them nice and big if you click on this photo once, and then a second time—they’ll take over your screen.)

p.s. I’m not fishing for compliments, just for the record. I had an entirely different post planned for today, but Poor Kyle advised me to cheer things up around here. He said I’ve been a major downer lately, and nobody likes the girl who sucks the fun out of life. So I thought and I thought, and I searched for something to be happy about, and guess what? It worked. I really am happy for my own hard work. I think I’ve overcome my bout with depression. Thanks, Poor Kyle.

Posted in change, Cutting Back, It's All Good, self-actualisation, what I'm about | Tagged biggest loser, chubby face, weight loss | 20 Comments

Keep Your Friends Close

by Camille Posted on April 13, 2009

This is Geneva:

I stole this picture from a funny post on her blog—hope that’s okay, Geneva.

About a million years ago (back in September of 2007), I entered a giveaway on her blog, Hazardous Undertakings. The giveaway was supposed to be randomly selected, but I tried to sway the vote by leaving this comment:

“Ooo, la la! I love random giveaways, especially with Genevra! If you “randomly” pick me, I will write a post about you on my blog…and it will be good.”

Guess who won? A randomly-generated winner…AND me! Geneva was so intrigued by my offer, she decided to make two winners. The next month, when I was in Arizona for a wedding, I saw Genevra {oh yeah, I have called her GenevRA ever since high school…it just flows nicely, and I don’t think she minds}, and she hand-delivered my prize in a homemade origami box (which was amazing, truly).

My loot, a “Wear With Absolutely Everything Necklace.” Image from here.

See, Genevra and I go way back. I met her my sophomore year of high school (Grade 10, Canadians), and we were acquaintances throughout our days as Warriors. We participated in marching band at the same time (just for one year, before I figured out how lame it was), and Student Council (for three years). During our senior year (Grade 12, Canadians), we even competed in a ridiculous beauty pageant—and hated every second of it—together.

Genevra was—and still is—incredibly smart. She was the valedictorian for our class (Class of ’04)—actually, I can never remember if it was between Genevra or Latherine Stunning* who ended up the first in our class, but for the sake of this post, we’ll say she was. At any rate, she was right up there. Despite her class rank being very impressive, I remember lots more about Genevra from high school. Probably my most dominant memory of High School Genevra is this:

One day in Student Council, Genevra was talking to Fo Rominguez* about something—I don’t know what—and I heard her say, “I am good at math. I ROCK at math. No, seriously…I’m really really good at math.”

I thought to myself, “What the heck? Who is this person, to just go around saying how good she is at everything?” {As an aside, I’m pretty much LOUSY at math, and I was a little bitter. Obviously.} It bothered me for a long time, maybe even years. BEAR WITH ME, GENEVRA; IT GETS BETTER! After a while, though, I found myself reflecting on that brief interaction, and I felt my opinion slowly changing. So Genevra was good at math, and she knew it. So what? Is there anything wrong with having confidence in one’s own strengths? I don’t think so—and if there is, there shouldn’t be. {I’m an idealist like that—more concerned with how things should be than how things are.}

Eventually, I decided to embrace a little bit of Genevra’s attitude in my own life. I have tried the whole “act-like-I-don’t-think-I’m-good-at-anything-so-people-will-tell-me-that-yes-Camille-you-are” route, and guess what? It’s annoying. People who do that…are annoying. Yes, I am well aware of my many many faults {many many MANY faults}, but I am also secure enough—like Genevra taught me—to know that I am a good person in lots of ways.

Is this arrogant? Maybe a little. But it’s better than being a tiny, timid, mousy little thing who needs other people’s good opinions to make it through the day.

Isn’t it amazing how one seemingly-insignificant moment can have such a profound impact? Probably Genevra doesn’t even remember that day (although she might, because, like we’ve already established, she has the brain of a rocket scientist), but I do. And not only do I remember that day, but I think of it often, especially when I need a pep-talk in self-confidence {which, hello, is every day}.

So essentially, Genevra has changed my life.

Oh, and by the way, the Wear With Absolutely Everything Necklace? Let’s just say, not only does Geneva rock at math, but she also works wonders with beads and a toggle clasp. I really can wear this necklace with absolutely anything:

Ode to Genevra’s Multi-purpose Necklace:

I could wear it nights and days…

I could wear it tweezing strays…

I could wear it gussied up…

I could really strut my stuff…

Just today, it surfaced for cameras…

…and even looked great with my favourite pajamas.

Thanks, Genevra, for changing my life, and helping me accessorise with ease! You really do rock at math, and I’m sorry I was jealous.

Everybody go visit her blog to see her exciting news. Tell her I sent you.

*Names modified to protect the innocent and cover my back.

Posted in Canada, friends, giveaways, introspection, It's All Good, like-it-link-it, looking back | Tagged high school friends, keep your friends close, multi-purpose necklace | 19 Comments

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Escape to Happier Times.

by Camille Posted on April 12, 2009

This post is about happier days.

Sunday evenings are almost perfect, and I’ve thought so for as long as I can recall.

When I was a little girl, Sundays meant three hours of church, followed by leisurely playing/reading/dinnering, and later, an evening walk to my grandma’s house for family visits. I liked Sundays. Sundays meant family, calm, quietude, and rest. Of course, Sundays inevitably ended with the dread of another week at school, and another week ’til the next Sunday—the simple joys of Sundays were always overshadowed by the looming, dooming Monday, lurking just on the other side of midnight.

Not much has changed. Sundays are still peaceful, reverent days of detox for me, but they are also ever-tainted by tomorrow. Mondays always come, bringing with them a whole slew of woes that I’d much rather leave behind in the weekend.

Of course, I’m nowhere near powerful enough to change the calendar, or seriously advocate for the five-day weekend {though I’m a closet supporter of the movement}, so all I can do is sit back and live with it, like all the other unmotivated losers who are not in control of their own destinies…

But one thing I can control is my power of recollection—I won’t lose that for many years to come {I hope}, and thank goodness. It’s times like these that I need my memory to recall happier times…

…like that road trip I took with Poor Kyle back in February during Reading Week. I realised I never posted about it, and it was a lovely trip, so I shouldn’t let it go ignored:

1. After a brief delay, we crossed the border and drove to Oregon from Canada, and stopped to sleep in the back of the FSomething50 for one night…

I’m atrocious in person, and this photo is proof. Poor Kyle looks great in bed head—I’ve always thought so.

2. The next day, while Poor Kyle did boring work stuff, I wandered through the streets of downtown Salem, making the most of a sunny morning. I antiqued, I boutiqued, and eventually, I fatigued {but not before scoring a cute new chapstick, the brand of which I had never before seen (and even though it highly resembles, it doesn’t nearly measure up to Burt’s Bees™ Pomegranate Lip Balm [which should come as a shock to absolutely no one])}.

Here I am in front of the Salem City Courthouse, waiting for Poor Kyle and wishing my tired-looking hair had already been dyed back to its natural colour.

Boss Lady™ Lip Balm in Honeysuckle Nectar {purchased on super-sale from a darling little shop whose name I will never remember}.

3. When he picked me up, he announced that wouldn’t it be fun if we drove to the coast? Of course I was delighted, because if there’s one thing I love more than Poor Kyle, it’s a spontaneous Poor Kyle; and if there’s one place more beautiful than central Oregon, it’s Coastal Oregon. So we went.

Here’s Poor Kyle at the Oregon Coast, donning a hat to conceal aforementioned bed head. And here’s me with a chubby face, wishing I had never eaten all those truffles (but what’s done is done; let’s not dwell).

Who am I kidding? I don’t know how NOT to dwell. I hold major grudges against anyone who’s ever done me wrong, myself included. Curse me!

We ended up in a little place called Lincoln City, which was very precious, but by the time we got there we were too tired to do anything besides eat at Mo’s and leave. So the pictures are scarce, but trust me: it was lovely.

Poor Kyle was so bitter about taking this picture, since we had just taken one on the OTHER side of this same inlet an hour earlier.

After dinner, I said to Poor Kyle, “Poor Kyle? Wouldn’t you like to take nice romantic walk on that beach?”

Grunt.

I tried harder, in my best high-pitched giddy wife voice (which raised an octave every other word)… “But it would be so precious, and we could take pictures of our feet in the ocean tide, and you could write I HEART CAMILLE in the sand and then, and then, and then! We could take pictures of ourselves in front of it and post the pictures on my blog and then all the world would know how madly in love we are?”

Grunt.

I tried smarter… “Well…we could go down to that beach and not hold hands, but instead pretend we are pirates and hunt for buried treasure…”

When that didn’t work, I knew nothing would. Instead, I cajoled one more picture in front of that unattainable beach, a picture practically identical to the first, but it was worth it just to prove that we did more than park on a highway lookout point and leave. Too bad I didn’t get a picture of Mo’s.

Anyway, after our fun day seeing the sights (not pictured is a trip to the outlet malls, which are never as fun as I think they’re going to be), we packed up and headed back to Canada, where I promptly started whining about school again, and have been ever since.

I think it’s safe to say I’m happiest when I’m traveling, or, at the very least, I’m happiest when it’s not Monday, or, at the honest-to-goodness very VERY least, college is a wretched institution, and summer rocks my world.

Is your Monday going well?

Posted in looking back, Married Life, mondays suck, my edjumacation and me, on the road again | Tagged Oregon, Sundays | 16 Comments

Did You Hear the One About the One-Finned Sea Turtle?

by Camille Posted on April 9, 2009

My fish was complaining about his tank all day today—he said he was sick of swimming around in circles He kept telling me how tired he was of swimming clockwise, and that all he really wanted to do was torpedo in a straight line like the other fishes in the sea.

I told him to be quiet or I’d bite his other fin off.

Okay, I don’t have a fish, and if I did, I wouldn’t bite any of its fins off; furthermore, it probably wouldn’t be talking to me {although I won’t rule out the possibility completely, because I was taught never to say never, and I totally fell for that life lesson hook, line, and sinker}.

But today I heard the story of Allison, the one-finned sea turtle, and it reminded me of that lame-spice wisecrack. I sort of couldn’t resist sharing it. Allison’s plight is certainly no joke, however—sea turtles lose fins all the time in the wild. Allison became one lucky duck {sort of} when she was introduced to Sea Turtles, Inc. in South Padre Island, Texas back in 2005. I bet she never dreamed that one day, four years later, she’d finally be able to swim in a straight line (some sea turtles take that for granted, you know…).

Image from here.

Allison was given a wet-suit prosthetic body armor sort of thing…it looks pretty cool, but even if it didn’t make her look like a super-chic version of go-go-gadget-aqua, it would still be life-changing, because it helps her swim straight.

CAN YOU IMAGINE? Swimming around in circles like that for half your life, never reaching any destination, around and around and a freaking round, and then suddenly one day you get a wetsuit and you have a destination! A purpose! I think it must be very liberating.

After years of swimming in circles, she can finally head in a straight path. Does anybody else see some parallels here? Through Allison, I can now relate to a sea turtle 100% more than I ever thought I would.

I need a wetsuit with a prosthetic brain attached. I need it like I need Lasik™. I want it. And when I get it (as I surely will), I can imagine how this article would read a little differently:

SOUTHERN ALBERTA, CANADA- Camille, a young aspiring blogger who lost half of her brainpower in a recent kerfuffle with a tragic semester at University, has been rambling around and around and around ever since, never reaching any breakthrough of brilliance on her website, archiveslives.com.

Thinking in tight, intelligent circles has been tough for the 22-year-old writer whose blog expectancy, after the latest semester, is about 2 months. With her brain matter only half as productive as that of her peers, the cheeky blogger’s website was basically beat when it was born.

That is, until Camille was {finally} set straight Wednesday, when disgruntled AoOL readers researchers strangled her down and outfitted her in a black neoprene suit with carbon-fiber brain matter on the top that allows her to glide gracefully through witty thought processes.

“That’s a blogger doing what a blogger does,” said Poor Kyle, proudly. Poor Kyle is Camille’s husband and tech guy, who watched the blogger’s new, astounding thoughts take flight at Blog Brain Inc., a nonprofit group that rehabilitates injured bloggers’ brains.

Image from here.

The brain matter on the suit, which resembles—well, brain matter—acts like a rudder for her thoughts, providing direction, stability, airtight arguments, earth-moving rhetoric, and impeccable grammar. Camille’s thoughts can change direction by varying the intensity of {what’s left of} her old brain matter, the lone survivor in what rescuers believe was a near-fatal semester of University.

Blog Brain Inc. CEO Goog Googler said bloggers with only half-functioning brain matter are usually obliterated from search engines because they struggle in the competition against more prolific bloggers. 3/4-brain functioning bloggers can be adopted by Google AdSense™, and full-brain functioning bloggers are usually sponosored, and paid real money, and wildly successful. Now, after the ground-breaking new innovation, Camille might have a chance among other bloggers.

Camille’s blog arrived on the internet in July of 2007, and was given a slim chance of survival, but it clung for life for the next year and a half and wormed her way into the hearts of a solid group of choice readers, who rallied to find a way to help the thought-prohibited blogger.

Camille’s brain matter has been on a slow decline since January 2009.

“The whole reason we’re doing this is to improve her quality of blog,” said Camille’s anonymous sister, a faithful reader of Archives of Our Lives since the very first post.

The sister said a team of dedicated bloggers spent months trying to develop prosthetic brain matter to counter the inhibiting nature of Camille’s school-addled mind, but there was not much of a brain stem remaining to attach the prosthetic.

The breakthrough idea applies the science of physics, philosophy, chemistry, mathematics, Newton’s Law, and English 101, in an attempt to give Camille the best chance at a new life. According to Goog Googler, scientists at Blog Brain, Inc. have developed more sophisticated equations that will allow them to tailor new suits and brain matter because Camille’s thoughts could grow so vast they might take over the world, and “that’s something we need to be prepared for.”

Even though Camille will never return to her pre-collegiate self, and she will probably never be rid of that vacant look in her eyes, the groundbreaking technology will make her an “ambassador” for university-butchered students worldwide.

For now, the triumph that the young blogger can think right along with the others is enough for those at the rescue center: Googler said readers wept the first time Camille dove into her first new blog post… “It was just such a relief to finally have something funny to read again.”

***This post is submitted in coalition with Jen from Sprite’s Keeper. See, Jen, what happens when I’m allowed to run free with no topic? Things get a little crazy. For more of this week’s spins, visit here.***

Posted in blogger finger, It's All Good, mediocrity, my edjumacation and me, oh brother what next | Tagged allison the sea turtle, losing brain matter, prosthetic fins | 16 Comments

None of This Means Anything Except Everything

by Camille Posted on April 8, 2009

I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding yesterday; it should come as no surprise to any of you that I can’t seem to make myself clear anymore. It’s like, unless you’re a mind-reader, don’t even bother trying to figure me out, because you can’t. {Kind of brings new meaning to the name “Poor Kyle,” doesn’t it? Think how he must feel, living with me all the time, and not being able to read my mind…}

This picture doesn’t mean anything except everything I’m feeling these days—a little nostalgic, a little lonely for green, a little out-of-focus…

I’m sorry I made it sound like I wouldn’t be blogging anymore. On the contrary: I will be continuing my quest of 5 days/week posting until a) my readers become mutinous and demand I quit, b) Poor Kyle has me admitted to the loony bin, or c) it kills me {which, you know, we really musn’t discredit—think how amazing it would be to go down in history as the first girl who blogged so much that it killed her!}.

The change I ineffectively relayed to you, my understandably perplexed readers (understandably perplexed? How’s that for an oxymoron?), is that I probably won’t be commenting on your blogs or answering e-mails as faithfully as I normally do. I’ll still write my own posts, and I’ll still read yours, but you probably won’t know I’ve been there. The reason I tell you this is not so you’ll say, “Oh, Camille, your comments are always the highlight of my day, so hurry back to sanity, okay?” Rather, I just don’t like people thinking I’m a blog snob—I’m the least exclusive blog-reader I know, all right? Please don’t think I’m ignoring you or I hate you or I think you’re fat—I don’t. (And if you think you are, please take comfort in the fact that I have ham hock arms and probably will until the day this blog kills me {as it surely will.})

Glad we got that sorted out.

There is no purpose to this picture other than to convey some sort of abstract mood… But I’m not even sure what mood it is I want to impart. Which means I’m really starting to lose it, I think. Cuckoo!

Since all the best bloggers suffer from depression, I’ve decided to try my hand at it, to see if maybe it will give me just the boost this blog needs to spiral into fame and glory and a regular income. For my first act as a chronic depressive, I have withdrawn into my mind completely. I go entire days at school without speaking a word to anyone. [Actually, this is nothing new. All the students at school are just as dumb as I am for being enrolled, so why would I want to talk to them? I never make friends at school. I never even try.]

Who knows? Maybe what I need is the hope of another open road—it’s been a long, long time.

Next, I have become moody and irritable, and have mastered the technique of twisting Poor Kyle’s words so tightly that even a sailor couldn’t de-tangle them {again with the “Poor Kyle” sentiments}. Lastly, I have drawn all the blinds and curtains in the house; I don’t peek outside; I don’t answer the door, or pick up the phone; I don’t even check the weather, because what do I care for clouds and wind? I am the ultimate shut-in.

All I need now is a prescription for some happy pills, and I’ll be golden.

***Disclaimer: If you are suffering from depression, please don’t be offended. I realise this post probably comes off as crass and insensitive. I am not diagnosed with depression, and I understand that what I am feeling is more like a semester of bad days, which is totally manageable compared to the lifetime of sorrows that some people feel or experience while depressed. I do believe that depression is real, and serious; I think there’s a difference between feeling depressed and suffering from depression. I only jest in an attempt to lift my spirits, not to make any statement about the reality or severity of depression. Although now, after writing this disclaimer, I feel worse than before. Probably this post will make a lot of people mad. I hope not.***

Posted in blogger finger, failures, introspection, mediocrity | Tagged suffer from depression | 14 Comments

A blog about being married and making it.

A New Lease

Time Flies When You’re Trying to Cheer Up.

This is the Part Where I Get Over Myself and Stop Being Depressed.

Keep Your Friends Close

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Escape to Happier Times.

Did You Hear the One About the One-Finned Sea Turtle?

None of This Means Anything Except Everything

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