Hello, everyone!

Well, it’s that time of year again. The time when I can’t eat, can’t drink, feel bad about some of the things I’ve done, and ask people to forgive me. That’s right: Yom Kippur. For any of you non-Jews reading this, let me explain. Yom Kippur is the biggest Jewish holiday of them all–except instead of chowing down on cookies and chugging eggnog, we fast and reflect. From sundown tonight to sundown tomorrow night I will be consuming absolutely nothing. 

Note the lack of smiling in the picture. It’s a pretty somber event. Now I know that a lot of people hear about fasting for a day and think “Well that sucks!” but it really isn’t so bad. In fact, as crazy as it sounds, I kind of like Yom Kippur. 

See, I mess up a goodly amount. I don’t consider myself a “bad” person and I try really hard to be a good friend . . . but I’m only human. The point of Yom Kippur isn’t to try to become saintly and start overflowing with love and compassion. It’s just to take a day to look at yourself and try to make things better. I get to re-evaluate my goals and priorities and figure out how I want to be living.

And by the end of a day of not-eating I have a new-found appreciation for college cafeteria food (which isn’t nearly as bad as people make it out to be). 

I also like seeing my own improvement from one Yom Kippur to the next. In Middle School and High School I was awfully hard on myself. I would obsess over my own inadequacies, particularly my lack of social grace. Then when I started pulling, I chastised myself for that. I’d ask myself again and again what the hell I thought I was doing. I asked myself why I was so hooked on destroying myself.

And now, I don’t do any of that anymore. I still pull. Pretty much every day. I still wish wholeheartedly that I didn’t, but I’ve stopped hating myself for it. This Yom Kippur I am not going to dwell too much on that particular habit. Instead, I am going to think of the wonderful messages that I get on Facebook. The one’s that say I am doing some good out in the world. I’m going to think about them and I’m going to figure out a way to spread awareness about trichotillomania.

Yes, I am going to still apologize. It feels good. It’s strangely nice to go up to my roommate and say “listen, if I’ve done anything that’s upset you, I’m really sorry. Sometimes I can be a bit . . . much.” The best part is when she gives me a hug and assures me that not only does she love having me as her roommate but that she didn’t mean to bother me last night when her boyfriend was hanging out in the room. Which of course I didn’t mind since I am secretly cataloguing everything away to use in my next book. Kidding Sarah! Maybe . . .

And now I think I will go put on “Apologize” by OneRepublic which will probably get stuck in your head if I attach the link here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm0T7_SGee4. One of these days I will figure out how to really link stuff. And upload pictures of me dressed up as a football player. So much to look forward to! 

Anyhow, before I return to my homework I would like to apologize if at any point I let you down. If it took me a ridiculously long time to respond to your comment (or if, because of my technological issues, I didn’t respond at all). If my blog is not as funny and cool as you had hoped. If you are in any way frustrated with me: I apologize. I’m still a work in progress.

More Later.

Obsessively yours,

Marni

ADDED LATER . . . Well, here is the first photo I have seen of the drag show.

I am the pants-less football player

For the record, I did start the night out with pants. Thick guy sweatpants. And then I got hot. Those shoulder pads are no joke, especially when you go from walking the runway to dancing. I couldn’t take them off either, as if someone took them the football player who loaned them to me would have license to kill. So I did the next best thing and removed the pants. This worked out really well as I was also wearing borrowed boxers. Possibly the most awkward moment of the night was when the guy handed the underwear to me and said, “You’re lucky I just did laundry.” To which I replied oh-so-wittily, “Uh . . . yeah.” 

The best moment of the night was the coronation of the drag show king and queen. My friend SparkleMotion won over the crowd doing things I’m not sure I physically can.

Long live the Queen!

Hello, everyone! So here’s the latest: I am going to be in a drag show. Seriously. I am dressing up as a football player (outfit will be courtesy of the football players in my dorm) known only as “The Chad.” Why am I doing this? Besides the obvious (it should be a lot of fun) all the money that I earn from walking around and grunting like a stereotypical jock goes to the Sexual Minority Youth Resource Center. Which is a cause that both “The Chad” and I wholeheartedly support.

This is one outfit "The Chad" would not be caught dead in.

Yes, I am excited about the show. Especially since a bunch of the football players are putting away the jerseys and picking up the miniskirts. Anyone who wants to see the show (and check out my “Chad walk”) should be at Lewis & Clark  tonight and follow the sound of wolf-whistles. 

What else have I been up to? I tried to donate blood but didn’t pass the iron test. I knew I should have been eating spinach this week but, sorry, does this look appetizing:

No "The Chad" doesn't like spinach either.

I think not. Still, I can’t be too bummed about my failure since something completely wonderful (besides the drag show) is happening today . . . my mom is visiting!

My mom has never really seen me at college. Not unless you count picking me up and dropping me off. Which I don’t. Today though I get to give her the tour. My dorm room, my roommate, the basketball court where I do my rollerblading, etc. And guess who is visiting with her!

Mom and Rascal. "The Chad" can't wait to see them both.

In college everyone misses their pets. The rule at Lewis & Clark is that you can’t have any animal that can live out of water. It’s hard to really connect with a fish. Not that Sababba isn’t great but let’s be honest, he doesn’t exactly overflow with affection.

Anyhow, in anticipation for the visit I have been cleaning my room, organizing my stuff, and even (drum roll please) vacuuming. Now I’m just waiting . . . and waiting . . . and procrastinating. 

I should go try to be productive.

Obsessively yours,

Marni

Hello, everyone! So last night instead of doing my homework (reading All’s Well That Ends Well . . . it’ll all work out anyway), I did something kind of embarrassing. I googled myself. And it wasn’t a quick 5 second thing either. Oh no, I was thorough. I was happily clicking away and every time I found a nice review like http://www.teenreads.com/reviews/9780757314124.asp I squirm in my chair and clap with excitement. Luckily, my roommate has yet to comment on this odd behavior.

Anyhow, sometimes I forget that I’ve written an autobiography and that I’m trying to help people. It’s so easy to just get wrapped up in my classes and my friends and pretend like I didn’t put myself out there. So whenever my friends here say stuff like “Hey Marni, I have your book in my room. When are you going to sign it?” I find it really disconcerting. Not in a bad way but sometimes it takes me a second to figure out what they’re talking about. The truth is I don’t feel extraordinary on a regular basis. I don’t prance around campus  going, “Psych test? Pshhh, if I can write an autobiography I can handle that. Give me a real challenge.”  Instead, you’ll find me staring at the textbook feverishly thirty minutes before class muttering something about Freud and how seriously messed up I find his dream interpretations.

See, I don’t feel confident. I don’t feel like I’ve arrived into my own, yet. Sometimes I’m convinced that I’ll never be able to have a career as an author, sometimes I worry I’ve peaked at nineteen (how pathetic is that?), and sometimes I fear I was never that good. Ever. As you might expect, all this does not exactly help me work on my next book. I seem to have acquired a major case of writer’s block. School on top of writing is hard if you ask me. It’s not exactly easy to switch from analyzing the depth in Shakespeare’s characters to coming up with my own. Still, I have added something to my room which I am hoping will make a difference:

Yes, that random cardboard thing I attached to my wall is what I’m talking about. I heard that some authors find it helpful to do collages and storyboards and stuff. So I taped on an outline for the story (that I doubt I’m going to use) and hopefully each week I’ll add something to it. Cross your fingers for me! I have been thinking about what actors I could picture playing the characters in my book. Here’s what I’m thinking:

Emma Roberts. What can I say? I think she could pull off the role of a fairly average girl who finds out she maybe possibly is doomed . . . that’s all I’m saying about the plot! For now . . .

I was thinking of a nerdy-awesome love interest that looked something like Zachary Levi at first. I’m rethinking that now though. Maybe I’ll go for someone more like this:

Kidding! I have a thing about Nicolas Cage. He really creeps me out. The only thing he’s in that I have liked is National Treasure. And that’s because American History + chase scenes + Justin Bartha = fun. Especially when no one else is around and I can yell out historical inaccuracies. Yes, I am that much of a geek.

More Later.

Obsessively yours,

Marni

Hello, everyone! Well my weekend was amazing. Which is not something I usually say about my weekends since I typically just do my homework, procrastinate, and hang out with friends. Good times, but nothing to write home (or on my blog) about. But this weekend was different. Why? Because instead of staying on campus, I left Lewis & Clark with a bunch of friends to spend the weekend at the beach.

Now, I honestly don’t remember the last time I felt nice sand. The last time I was at a beach was in Israel over the summer. And trust me, the sand where my Birthright group went was nowhere near as nice as this:

Yes, that’s me in the background. And those strange people who are blindfolded and about to attack each other are my friends. Simon, the one who is crouching, taught us this awesome game that involves groping around for a newspaper and whacking your opponent with it. That’s what led up to this:

Marni Bates, ready for the fight to begin!

 I know it looks like Rikki is kicking my butt, but quite the opposite is true.

Anyhow, the weekend was spent playing games, making and eating delicious food, walking on the beach, and forgetting all about school. Which is why I really didn’t want to return to school. Lewis & Clark is great and all but this was fantastic.

Did I mention that the food was unbelievably good? Rikki might not be the champion of the Whack Marni With A Newspaper Game, but the girl can make a mean pretzel. 

I did bring back a lasting reminder of the weekend though: a cold! I guess it was to be expected. I stayed up really late each night hanging out with friends around a fire. And did I mention that there were ten of us sleeping in one huge room? What goes around comes around. 

Still, nothing short of getting H1N1 (Swine Flu) could make me regret it. All I have to do now is get myself out of vacation mode and back into the school/homework/friends cycle. And to catch up on my sleep. All easier said than done.

Wish me luck!

Obsessively Yours,

Marni

I love my beta fish. I’m not sure if the affection is reciprocated since he has tried to commit fishie suicide before. I’ve been told that’s not uncommon in beta fish though, so hopefully that’s not an indication of his feelings for me. Sabbaba (it means “awesome” in Hebrew) is a pretty good friend. He doesn’t whine all the time, or tell me that my outfit looks like a three year old went crazy at the Goodwill, or try to borrow my English textbooks. Nope. He just eats, swims, and ignores me. 

"I'm ignoring you, Marni!"

And while occasionally I wish he’d pop his head out of the water and ask about my day, all things considered I’m glad he doesn’t. It’s nice having someone, even if it is a fish, who knows that I stayed up way too late last night watching tv on my computer without judging me. I think he knows that I should have spent my time differently, like say, cleaning his bowl. But I also believe that he understands the allure of a series that isn’t particularly well written or well done. It’s also possible that he and I have more in common than I originally thought. We both enjoyed this for example:

Don’t recognize him? That doesn’t surprise me. His name is Ethan Peck and he plays Patrick Verona on 10 Things I Hate About You. He was also in a Mary-Kate and Ashley movie once apparently. I IMDBed him, okay? I admit it! I’m lame!

Speaking of actors who have moved on from Mary-Kate and Ashley movies, I’d like to present my Middle School celeb crush (whose name I did not know back then due to my technological incompetency).

Jesse Spencer! He plays Dr. Chase on House. Only when my crush started it was over his role as James in Winning London. He was the son of a lord and spoke with a British accent (even though he’s actually Australian). I’d be lying if I said that the movie didn’t have anything to do with my motivation to join Model United Nations in high school. Not that I told anyone this when I was there. Good thing too, or they might have taken back my award for representing my country (Syria) really well. 

Anyhow, Sabbaba is really good at being nonjudgemental. He also puts up with my giggling late into the night. Yes, I am one of those people who can’t help but react to what I see and read. I get embarrassed for characters super easily. Luckily, my amazing roommate also puts up with my random bursts of laughter (I wear my headphones when I watch things). And she also reminds me to get back to work every now and then. Advice I really ought to take now. 

I’m leaving tomorrow for the beach! It’s a reunion of sorts and a bunch of the kids I went to Israel with are going to share a beach house with me for the weekend. I’m excited but it means I have a lot of work to do now so I can have fun over the weekend. 

More Later.

Obsessively yours,

Marni

So I auditioned for acappella at my college tonight. That’s singing. Which my very supportive mother, not so supportively, pointed out to me. And I don’t sing. Well, maybe don’t isn’t the best word. I sing in the shower, in the car, and in my room all the time. Usually loud singing is accompanied with some rather embarrassing dancing. The thing is, my family has pointed out on numerous occasions that singing isn’t really my thing. In fact, to quote my cousin (an aspiring professional opera singer) when she heard I was doing the vocals in my two girl band, “Oh no! I mean . . . Oh.”

And they have a point. I do have a tendency to go rather flat and miss notes entirely. But I wasn’t going to let this stand between me and my audition. So after freaking out as I desperately searched for a song that my voice would not crack on (I finally selected Middle of Nowhere by Hot Hot Heat), I did it. I sang in public. Not just in public, in front of people I know for a fact have perfect pitch. 

So there I was belting out the lyrics and praying I was getting the song right and having a great time. Was I terrified? Yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Whether I get in or not, I’ll have stood up in front of my friends and a handful of strangers and have done something for which I have no natural talent. It’s a nice reminder not to take myself too seriously. Sometimes I get caught up in the idea of being “professional Marni.” The one who feels like she needs to know where she’s going in life and how she’s going to major in Psych. And then I watch Star Wars with my amazing roommate Sara. Which leads to dancing and blowing bubbles and photographs and general merriment.

Hanging out with the coolest roommate ever!

And I get to remember that, hold the phone, I’m just nineteen! I get to be a kid. Sometimes it feels like the real world wants to usurp your adolescence. Let’s face it: in high school, most kids are freaking out about grades and college applications and making it out alive. And in college everything is going towards the job that you’ll probably have soon. Which is why it’s so important to assert your right to have fun. And to dance crazily in your room or sing or eat birthday cake straight from a pan. Whatever works for you.

That’s what I’m thinking right now, anyways.

More Later.

Obsessively yours,

Marni

(added later . . .  I didn’t get in! Thank goodness! I really don’t have time for anything extra these days. But I’m glad I tried out since I got to know some really cool people while waiting in line to sing.)

What do you do when the few things that seemed most certain about yourself are flipped? For the past year, I’ve identified myself as an English major. People ask what I am studying at school and that’s what I tell them. “Oh, I’m an English Major. I want to write professionally. Yes, I know that’s awfully hard. No, I don’t plan on going into teaching . . .” It’s become a knee-jerk response. And now that wonderful safety net is gone. I’m going to major in Psychology. I’ve sat in the intro course for all of 5 hours tops and I know that’s what I’m going to do. Well, part of me knows. Another part of me is shrieking “Are you CRAZY! We had this all figured out! Don’t you remember? English major, study abroad in England, drink tea with Julie Andrews? Does NONE of this ring a bell?!” 

 I even used this as my screensaver to inspire me into being a better writer/English major!

And the scary thing is now I feel like I am in completely untested waters. I’ve defined myself as an English Major long enough for this change to really rattle me. And it made me wonder, how often do we define ourselves by one small aspect of who we are or what we do. Like when my pulling was at it’s worst, I didn’t see myself as Marni but rather as some crazy girl that appeared intent on destroying herself. That was all I could see in myself for awhile. 

Eleanor Roosevelt said to do one thing every day that scares you. But who really does that? Doesn’t everyone get settled into comfortable routines that people enjoy because there is something wonderful in the solidity. Here at college I have my own schedule with classes, friends, homework, rollerblading, etc. How often do I really scare myself? How often do you? 

Well, I am scaring myself now. I am embarking into the unknown. Sometimes it feels like just when I think I understand where I am going my path drastically changes. An autobiography comes along and before I know it I am staring at my cell phone obsessively wondering if the senior producer of the Dr. Phil show will call. I’m caught in this weird zone between being a teenager enjoying college and recording songs with my friend Heather in her basement and being an author who is trying to figure out what her next step should be. 

I guess I’m just freaking out. The future is so close that I can feel it stalking me in the shadows, peering over my shoulder to stare at my schedule, and whispering hateful things in my ear like, “you know you will have to take a science class eventually, right?” Which I am so NOT looking forward to. Dreading might be the appropriate term for it. 

Anyhow, I’m looking forward to finding my routine again. And I do have the benefit of enjoying an incredible dorm room while I try to figure things out. Which looks like this:

My dorm room. Fully equipped with flower lights, my own artwork, and prayer flags. Pretty nice, right!

All this excitement and change can really mix up a girl, or me at any rate. So, I’ll just have as much fun as possible along the way. Wish me luck!

Obsessively yours,

Marni