Bama needs to win!
It's Saturday night. I'm here with Dalton watching the Bama-Georgia game. It's tied at 10 in the 3rd quarter. Let's go Bama! I wish I was there.Drew's in Lafayette, La., covering the Troy game. They're winning right now. I miss him! We just got back from St. Petersburg for my journalism seminar.Update: Georgia just scored a TD. I'm so TO'd right now!
Saturday
I love Saturdays. I sometimes wish I had a three-day weekend. Mondays are so hard! Drew is in Troy covering a game, and I'm bored. I miss my friends. I might go to Steinmart and Michael's just to look around. I think it we had a dog, I would be happier. They are good companions. And, they're so cute!We are hoping to join a church soon. I like Southside, but none of the women my age have been friendly to me. I want to make some new friends. I had fun last night because Corinna asked me to come along for a girls' night out. We ate at Wendy's and made artistic creations at Make My Clay.Tomorrow afternoon, we are going to Tallahassee for an FSU b'ball game! Go Seminoles!
Vulnerability
I admit that when Mrs. Mason said she was going to pass out our stories to other classmates and let them read them, I was nervous. I didn't know if someone else could understand my piece. Joseph read mine, and he did a great job. I felt really vulnerable afterward, but I know that is a good thing. This class isn't easy. It's not supposed to be. I'm glad Mrs. Mason makes us do things we aren't accustomed to. I don't want to leave this class! I would gladly commute from Dothan to be in this class. I'll miss everyone and their amazing talents and intellect and excitement.
Newsweek piece
Mirror, mirror: what do you see?
Thinness not the goal of my life anymore.
My worst enemy used to be mirrors. Just a brief glance could ignite countless negative thoughts.
As a young teen, I struggled with my self-image. I wanted to look like my thin friends and the even thinner models displayed on magazine covers. I was never overweight by any health standard, but my mind saw a different picture.
In high school, I wanted to fit in and impress my crushes, so I devised a plan: I would lose as much weight as possible and then the guys would come running. I would look like my friends. People would notice me more if I was skinny, I reasoned. I would be happy, beautiful and accepted.
My plan was innocent at first. I exercised more and watched what I ate, but once I started losing weight, I didn’t want to stop. I could always be thinner.
I turned to teen magazines for detailed instructions on how to get perfect abs, count calories and look like the hottest celebrities. With each issue, I found new ways to slash “bad” foods and get the body I’ve always wanted.
In my journal, I tracked my food intake, along with calories and fat grams. I also kept a calculator nearby at all times. My limit was 600 calories a day and 8 grams of fat. If I went over my limit, I thought I was a failure. For breakfast, fat-free cereal with skim milk. For snacks, fat-free rice cakes or raisins. For lunch, a protein bar with carrots. For dinner, I ate small portions of whatever Mom made or brought home. If she noticed me not eating, I knew she would get suspicious.
After about two weeks of this style of eating, my body was weak and worn down. My energy level plummeted. In four months, my hair was dry and brittle, my skin was pale, and my bones were protruding from my back and hips. I was becoming a skeleton, but in the mirror all I could see were my gigantic stomach, hips, and legs.
Everyone noticed my thinner self, but instead of offering compliments or liking me more, they were appalled at how little I ate or how my clothes seemed to swallow my body. Guys did not fall at my feet or ask me on dates; most never talked to me. My plan was failing, and I was disappointed. I longed to be happy, but the more pounds that disappeared, the more depressed I got.
I thought I needed to lose even more weight, so I joined the track team that spring. We practiced four days a week, and I couldn’t keep up with the other girls. After running just one lap around the track, I felt like passing out. My heart raced and ached. I found out later that anorexia causes decreased heart muscle, which results in a slower heart rate and lower-than-normal blood pressure.
As a perfectionist, I was frustrated about not finishing with the other runners. I came in dead last at every meet, weak enough to collapse. I wanted to do well, to come in at least third or fourth, but it never happened. With my coach and teammates watching, I felt pressure to win. I began to feel hopeless about myself. I was never thin enough, fast enough, attractive enough.
My parents knew I needed help and had warned me that if I didn’t eat more they would force me to eat hamburgers and ice cream, two foods I had banned months ago on my nonfat journey. I was scared.
I’m independent and don’t like people telling me what to do. When my family started telling me to eat, I got upset. I attempted to eat a few foods with fat, but my body was so accustomed to getting zero fat that I felt sick when I ate those foods.
I met with a psychologist twice. He explained the disorder and gave me a few worksheets to complete. We talked about my problems and he listened, but he did not change my mind or “fix” me, like I had hoped he would.
Thinking about the future frightened me. I would have no future if I kept hurting my body. I realized no one could force me to change — I had to do it. It was my problem, and I had two choices. I could either change or keep living this way, cutting my life short with each passing day.
I chose to live. I did not recover in a week or a few months; it’s a lifelong illness. I battle my image in the mirror today and always will. Anorexia never goes away. By the grace of God, I now see myself as worth much more than my external features. My happiness isn’t dependent on being a certain weight or looking like a model. I eat right and go to the gym to keep my body strong and fit, because those things help me stay healthy. I discovered that I would rather carry a few extra pounds than be too weak to run one lap.
Fiction: Confessions of a dorm room
People move in and move out. The cycle never gets boring. New posters, new furniture, new people best of all. Sometimes the girls are similar, and sometimes they couldn’t be more different.Room 78 Somerville has seen it all over the years. Every summer, a new set of girls will inhabit the space. The excitement and chaos of moving in always take a toll on people. The newest girls, Lynn and Brittany, seem ready to crash after check-in this afternoon.Lynn didn’t know what to expect about her roommate. Having never formally met Brittany, she hoped for the best. Brittany wasn’t too worried because she gets along easily with others.Brittany reminded Lynn of someone, possibly from her past. Her straight brown hair and big, hazel eyes seemed strangely familiar. But they had never met, so why did she feel that way? She told her mom about it later that night. “There’s just something about her that I can’t figure out,” she said. “It’s like I’ve met her before. I don’t know. This could be déjà vu or my imagination.”She confessed to her mom that she was nervous about living with Brittany, but she also said she felt a connection to her.“I’m sure we’ll be good friends,” she said. “I’m probably just nervous, but after a few weeks everything will be fine.”They hung up, and Lynn unpacked a few boxes and wrote in her journal. Around 10 p.m., Brittany returned from Wal-Mart. They chatted a while, but soon got ready for bed. After they had both fallen asleep, Lynn dreamed off and on about a small girl who was sitting in her room, playing with Barbies. The girl seemed sad, and in the dream Lynn could sense that she wanted to be with her mother. The girl gazed a picture of a lovely woman, presumably her mother. But as the girl looked at the picture, she became more upset.“Where is my mommy?” the girl asked, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
In a cold sweat, Lynn awoke with that painful, haunting image of the girl holding the picture. Who is that girl and who is the woman in the picture, she wondered.Glancing at her alarm clock that displayed 4:37 a.m., Lynn settled back in bed and dozed until it was time for her first class. She and Brittany both had biology together, so they showered and walked to class.After class and lunch at the Ferg, they headed back to the dorm. They liked their room so far, but they both wished for more closet space and cleaner showers. Their room was at the end of the hall, and it was a fairly quiet section.“Do you want to go the rec center tonight?” Brittany asked.“No, I’m too tired, but thanks for asking,” Lynn said.While Brittany was gone, Lynn read a few chapters of “He’s Just Not That Into You” and painted her nails. She realized that she didn’t even know Brittany’s last name. In fact, she hardly knew anything about her roommate except that she was from Ohio, loved the color purple, and listened to Coldplay.A few days passed, and Lynn’s feeling about Brittany continued. She couldn’t shake it. How could I know her...she’s from Ohio, and why does she remind me of someone I can’t even think of? She did countless mental checklists of places they might’ve met and even Googled Brittany’s name online. Nothing came up. She tried giving subtle hints to Brittany about her family, talking about her sisters and brother, hoping that Brittany would reveal something about her family. Nothing helped. Brittany acted as if she didn’t have a family, never calling her parents or putting up photos of siblings.When schoolwork began to escalate in October, the girls rarely saw each other. Brittany did most of her studying at Rodgers, and Lynn struggled to balance her homework load and part-time job at Pepito’s. Lynn started to wonder if she would ever know Brittany as more than just an acquaintance-type friend.Near Thanksgiving break, Lynn’s aunt, Sandra, called and said she wanted to visit for a few days. They made plans to shop and dine at some great spots. Lynn invited Brittany to join them, and she accepted, which thrilled Lynn because she still felt like a stranger to her and hoped they could bond on the trip.Sandra arrived the Monday before Thanksgiving, and when Brittany met Sandra, Lynn observed an odd expression on Brittany’s face. It had to mean something, but she didn’t know what. The three headed to the Galleria.Brittany sat in the backseat and spoke three words at the most on the way to Birmingham. Lynn couldn’t understand why she was acting this way, but she shrugged it off because she wanted to have fun and enjoy the time with her aunt. After several hours of shopping, they drove back to campus. They talked about guys, clothes, movies — normal girl talk. When Sandra asked about Brittany’s parents, she didn’t say much except that they worked a lot (both were doctors) and she wasn’t close to them. Soon, that same expression Brittany had earlier appeared on Sandra’s.After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, Lynn found the courage to say, “Something is strange about this because I feel like we should know each other. Brittany has always seemed familiar to me, but I can’t figure out why.”Sandra’s eyes brimmed with tears as she spoke, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. Please try to understand. Brittany, I don’t know how to tell you, but you are my daughter. I gave you up for adoption, and now I’m sitting here with you. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I just can’t believe you’re here.”Brittany smiled and shed several tears before speaking. “I’m speechless. I guess I always knew I was adopted. I felt it in my bones. I used to stare at my mom’s picture and think, ‘She’s not mine. She doesn’t feel like my mom.’ Now it all makes sense.”Lynn’s mind flashbacked to her dream of the girl staring at her mother’s picture. It really did mean something, she thought. My aunt is Brittany’s mom, and that means we’re cousins!“Oh my gosh, Brittany!” Lynn exclaimed. “I knew something was familiar about you. We’re cousins. This is so unbelievable.”All three embraced and sobbed and laughed in stunned amazement. Their lives would never be the same. Sandra told Brittany that she never stopped thinking about her and always wondered where she was and how she was doing.“Now that I see you, I can’t get over how beautiful you are and how proud I am of you. I don’t know how your parents will take this, but we need to tell them. I feel like my life is complete now, just knowing that you are okay. I love you so much, and I always will. I know you’re overwhelmed right now, and I promise that I’ll give you time to think about what has happened. Just know that I’m here, and I won’t leave again. I can’t justify what I did. I only thought it was best that someone else take you and give you what I couldn’t. You will always be my daughter though.”By the evening’s end, mother and daughter had been reunited and reconciled, and Lynn slept better than she ever had. Her roommate would never feel like a stranger anymore.
Movie review--"Almost Famous"
Acting, music make “Almost Famous” best film of 2000
Rock ’n’ roll journey shows price of fame and value of living without regrets.
For a crash course on how to be a rock journalist, check out “Almost Famous.”
Written and directed by Cameron Crowe, the film chronicles a California boy’s life and the many wild adventures he encounters during the late ’60s and early ’70s rock ’n’ roll period.
William Miller, played by Patrick Fugit, grew up idolizing rock bands. Now as a high school student, he dreams of writing about them for glamorous magazines such as Rolling Stone and Creem.
Not only is the acting superb and flawless, but the script is also brilliant. Crowe’s creative genius is apparent in lines such as, “I’m about to boldly go where many men have gone before,” “He says I’m a ‘yes’ person, and you are trying to raise us in a ‘no’ environment,” “Famous people are just more interesting,” and “Can you believe these new girls — none of them use birth control, and they eat all the steak?”
The standout performance belongs to Billy Crudup as Russell Hammond, lead guitarist of Stillwater, the band that William covers on a nationwide tour for Rolling Stone. Crudup’s character, the stereotypical, self-centered rocker, allows viewers a realistic glimpse into the tumultuous lives of rock stars. He never wavers; he never fails to grip you with his insightful facial expressions and transparency. Russell drinks a little too much acid one night at a party and calls himself a “golden god,” an accurate term for how people worshiped him and not the other band members.
The acting is phenomenal, but the movie’s soundtrack adds depth and clarity to each scene. The characters’ emotions are reflected in songs from legendary icons, such as Simon and Garfunkel, Rod Stewart, Elton John, Led Zeppelin and Cat Stevens. The two Elton John songs, “Tiny Dancer” and “Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters,” fit like perfect puzzle pieces.
Jason Lee’s character as Stillwater’s front man, Jeff, is intense, but he has excellent comedic timing, and his long, straggly hair and slender physique give him a believable rock star look. He makes ample use of the F-word, and his jealousy over Russell is a realistic portrayal of the costs of stardom.
Kate Hudson makes her mainstream debut in this film, and it is easy to understand why she won a Golden Globe for best supporting actress. She shines on screen, and her character, Penny Lane, a self-proclaimed “band aide” — not a groupie — is vulnerable, playful and sincere all at once. Penny is a dreamer, and she wants someone to share her dreams with. She can’t forget about her love with Russell, but William is one who gets captured by her spell.
The most engrossing, compelling scene is when Penny’s plane is about to take off. William, who watches from the airport, runs by the window, not wanting her to go. She places her hand on the window, and with the music escalating, it seems as if time is standing still.
Credit the movie’s hilarious bits to Philip Seymour Hoffman as legendary Lester Bangs, editor of Creem magazine, and Jimmy Fallon of “Saturday Night Live” fame as Dennis Hope, one of the band’s managers. Frances McDormand as William’s mother also gives plenty of laughs with her endless warnings about drugs, rock ’n’ roll and commercialization.
While the movie is fiction, much is based on events that Crowe encountered while he was a teenager writing for Creem and Rolling Stone. Crowe’s talent as a writer and director is never more evident than in this film. Watch it whenever you need inspiration or are craving a flashback to the days when rock defined cool.
Humor piece
Hair nightmare hard to forget
Why bangs are not for me.
I’m cursed with a forehead the size of Russia. I’ve learned to accept it and have gone bangs free for many years. I don’t have anything against bangs, but one event left me forever scarred. It’s a hair nightmare that I like to refer to as “Monster Bangs.”
I’ll never forget the day. I had an appointment for a new cut, this time with bangs. No big deal, right?
Bangs had always been harmless to me. They didn’t disguise my embarrassing cowlick, but they were an integral part of my childhood, as evidenced in pictures of my early days. But after a while I guess I grew tired of them and let them grow out.
When I was 12, I thought it was time for bangs again. I was on the brink of puberty, complete with body changes, skin breakouts and the sudden desire to impress my first crush.
Maybe bangs would give me more confidence, I thought. Besides, all the popular girls had them. Guys seemed to notice them. I just knew bangs would be the lifesaver I needed for my awkwardness and insecurities.
When Mom and I arrived at the salon, the owner informed us that my hair stylist was out sick that day. “But don’t worry, our new stylist, Jill, will be glad to cut your hair, honey. Just have a seat,” she said.
A lump started to form in my throat. I had never met this woman before, and I was going to let her chop up my hair? I almost protested but decided to stick it out. It’s just a haircut.
Everything was going fine — she shampooed me and brought out the scissors. A few minutes later, I glanced up from the chair and saw Jill grab a chunk of the back of my hair and pull toward the front. I tried my best not to panic, reassuring myself that Jill, being a beauty school graduate and all, had to know how to cut bangs.
So I went into daydream mode and imagined how wonderful I would look with my new ’do. Would my crush, Ben, notice me at school on Monday? The cheerleaders, otherwise known as the “The Perfect Bangs Squad,” might even asked me to sit with them. I could already feel my self-esteem soaring.
Taking a glimpse at the mirror again, I saw Jill snipping away, revealing my utmost fear. She had cut my bangs from the back of my hair! I now had 6-inch-long bangs, and it was too late to do anything.
I froze in the chair, too stunned to speak. Tears began to well up, along with fury at Jill for ruining my life.
Soon, she announced that she was finished and asked with a smile, “What do you think?”
Hmm, let’s see, with one haphazard move, you made an already awkward adolescent girl look even more awkward. I don’t feel too great.
I didn’t feel good again until my monster bangs caught up to the rest of my hair. Over time, I realized that bangs aren’t the ticket to popularity and self-confidence. I now expose my never-ending forehead to the world without insecurity.
2/10 homework
This is one of my favorite Dave Barry columns:
http://www.showmenews.com/2004/Apr/20040404Comm010.asp
