It's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light...

I have to go back to class tomorrow. I am pretending it doesn't exist, so here. Sillyness.

In response to a post by Judo denouncing Justin Beiber (or whoever he is) for basically saying 'lol if you are MY fan, believe what I say!' regarding abortion, I give you Tim Minchin and his song The Good Book

I am not an atheist, but come on, kiddo. Grow up a little and don't use your book to tell other people how they should think. Especially when it's not their book. *pats* Listen to this song. It is sensible. And awesome. And even I can tell it's sarcastic, which is a feat because most people are aware I am not good at reading sarcasm...

( Kids get killed when God gets mad )

And the video. Because you can always do with a little of Tim Minchin's crazy smile in your lives. You know you can.

( Cutty poopoo )

I used to spend my life in my high school theatre. There were days I could be at school from 8 in the morning until 9-10 at night. I didn't drive until I was 21 because instead of taking driver's ed, I was doing everything I possibly could in that theatre. I ate, slept and breathed that place.

When I was in my final year of high school and I was on my way to rehearsal when I saw a little girl in the hallway behind the theatre, crying. She was about eight and I went over to her to ask what was wrong. She said her mother was supposed to pick her up a half an hour before that (why she was being picked up at a high school when she was 8, I still do not know) and she was scared that her mother had been in a car accident. I asked if her mother had a cell phone and she nodded, so I led the poor girl through to the speech office so she could try calling her mother.

When there was no answer, and the girl started crying again, I told her we should go out to where she was supposed to be picked up and I would wait with her.

I ended up waiting with her for nearly 45 minutes. I kept her calmer than she probably would have been by talking about stupid things and telling her ridiculous stories about myself and my very strange friends. Her mother eventually came by and the girl hugged me and they went on their way. I have no idea why the mother was late, or what happened, but I never saw the girl again and I don't remember her name.

What I do remember, was that I was late to my rehearsal. I knew I would be, and since one of the advantages of my crazy brain is that it traps things inside its cage of memory, I had the entire play memorized already so I figured it would be okay. The director wasn't pleased however, and he informed me of this. I told him I had been waiting with a scared, little girl, and he asked me why that was my responsibility.

You know...if that's how you think, then I guess it wasn't. My responsibility was to my cast mates and my director and despite the fact that I was never late before and always went above and beyond to help and be do whatever I could to move the production forward, I was still late this time and that had inconvenienced people. I still feel like the right thing to do was to stay with the poor girl. What about my responsibility to help out another human being; to care for someone who was scared and alone? If I had been that scared little girl, I would hope someone would have extended the same kindness to me. I just apologized and we got on with it, but I never really forgot that.

I'm not someone who can pass people by. Which is why I am the one who ends up sitting with the homeless person on the street who passed out and hit their head on the pavement so hard they are bleeding into their eyes, while they wait (for over an hour) for the ambulance to come. The amount of people who walked by that day, averting their eyes so they didn't have to see, makes me feel ashamed. I don't ever want to be that kind of person. It's why I'm doing what I'm doing, despite the fact that I am not okay. The helping people is as natural as breathing. It's not going out of my way, because helping people is my way. It's everything else that's the problem. Forcing myself to leave my home, when it's the only place that I feel safe. Forcing myself to talk to people, even though I'm terrified of it. All that functioning as if I don't panic about every little thing, that's the hard part. It makes me feel like I have no right to act like I could actually help. I feel barely human. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But I won't. I can't. I'm taking responsibility. I just wish it wasn't so hard.

Alison was supposed to go to bed but she just came out here to get a drink and there is no way that we could possibly ever explain the conversation that just occurred between us, but it was epic hilarity though it was the kind where you had to be there and now my stomach hurts from laughing. It was pure ridiculousness and we both laughed so hard, and I feel like I might vomit.

And then I thought, "you know what? I think I feel like this at least once a day." I think living in a house where you laugh so hard you think you might vomit at least once a day is pretty damn awesome, no matter what else is going on in my messed up little world.

Long live the LFoD and all it's denizens, past and present!

EDIT: For more examples of why the LFoD is the greatest place on Earth, I present Alison's Overheard in the LFoD tag in her journal which is chock full of hilarity and quotes.

My head hurts from laughing.

Today I went in to visit Ness at her work and I purchased a new phone since my old one was a little dilapidated and the battery was annoying. New phone is wi-fi enabled and snazzy and I downloaded apps for my yahoo!mail and a few other things. It also has a Tim Minchin background (took me forever to find one that worked because it has to be really wide instead of long) and it plays a Sherlock Holmes ringtone when the phone rings. I enjoy this! So farewell to the Barbie Dream Phone. I shall miss you BDP. You were good to me and you rotated pictures of my favourite people (the ones I don't know in person...). Alas, the time has come to part ways.

On the uni front, I have finally enrolled but this is after the head of the program himself had to call me and assure me they would get onto getting me through the approval process right away. US student loans at an NZ university are frickin' FUN, I'll tell you what. But I can't complain too much. Without them, I'd be up shit creek with no degree. Well...with two degrees I don't use, instead of three with one I DO hope to use.

Miss my housemates. They're at Canterbury Faire and I remain home, alone with the cat! Ness came over to watch Sherlock and entertain me, which was awesome! <3 And now, since I spent almost all of yesterday sleeping (I was literally awake for about 6 hours of yesterday in total. and then I slept until 10:30 this morning...), I will spend the night drinking tea from my dragon tea pot and writing things with myself and trying not to panic about poor Queensland and the category 5 cyclone headed towards them :(. Just fuck, man.