Strange Occurences and Tales of Corn

This is a story that I just have to tell.

When Ian and I were little, everyone tried to make us eat corn. Corn from a can. It was gross (and still is), so we threw tantrums, cried, and pushed the piles of corn around on our plates. We sat at the table for an extra hour sometimes, whining and complaining, and I gagged on every single bite. For a few months, we lived with our aunt and uncle, and they would get frustrated with us for not eating our corn. Our uncle would sing songs about corn. It was understood by all: Ian and Lauren do not like corn. It was something that Ian and I bonded over.

One day when I was twelve or so, I was at a barbecue at my aunt and uncle's house. Aunt Mary said, "Lauren, why don't you try corn on the cob?" She explained that it was very different from canned corn, was buttered and salted, and much tastier. I tried it. I liked it. I told Ian of this new discovery, thinking he'd want to try it out too. Maybe we'd both have a new Pro-Corn lease on life. Nope. He was not pleased. "You betrayed us, Lauren! You were 'The Gag'." Suddenly, my Good Fellasesque gangster name in our Anti-Corn Gang no longer held true. I had let down my Anti-Corn partner. Over the years, anytime someone would bring up the word "Corn", Ian would give me a stare down. He'd shake his head, ever-so-subtly and mutter "traitor" under his breath.

A few months after Ian died, I was working at a restaurant, and was about to deliver a pizza to a table. It was a cheese pizza, but I noticed a piece of corn on the side of the plate. I quickly brushed it off, as these things happened sometimes. A week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting on the side of a plate of a Chinese chicken salad. Again, I removed it. Another week or two later, a piece of corn was sitting inside a single scoop of plain vanilla ice cream. As I walked the ice cream (corn removed) over to a table, I thought, "Ian, you sly dog." I smiled, and carried on. This started happening every so often. I would find a single piece of corn in a salad, a cup of pea soup; in food where it did not belong. Every time, just one piece. I eventually started a jar of my corn collections, and it currently contains two pieces, although there were probably at least 10 other times that it happened. It's been awhile, and I started wondering if I would find another corn sign again. Another "hello" from my big brother Ian.

Last week, I was packing for a trip to Nashville, and Ian was on my mind all night. I sat and ate some leftover pizza, and again I wondered if he'd drop me a little sign to say hello. I even checked my pizza, lifting up the cheese while laughing, knowing I'd find nothing. Two hours later, I was cleaning and listening to Pandora. I had Beyonce radio on, and suddenly, a metal song started playing. I stood there in confusion, wondering what the HELL this metal song was doing on Beyonce radio. I also thought, "Is Ian playing some silly trick?" As I changed the song, I noticed the band: Korn. A smile spread across my face and I said out loud, "Well hello Ian!" I excitedly told a few people, and then felt the need to double check - was that really what I saw? Was Korn just playing on Beyonce radio? I remembered what the album cover looked like, so I looked up "Korn albums". I found it, and gasped when I saw the title of the album: See You on the Other Side.

Hello, Ian. Thanks for the Korn.
Love,
"The Gag"

A Little and the Lot

I started a second blog page a few days ago. I'm not sure exactly what I am going to do with it yet, but I wanted to make a blog that was a bit more focused. I find that I have trouble writing if I don't know what I'm going to write about. So I made "A Little and the Lot". I want it to focus on little stories about humans, in an effort for us to have more understanding of each other. Little stories that make up the whole lot of us. I find that I learn new things about people all the time, and it gives me a new perspective for why they act a certain way. Instead of us all blindly judging each other and making assumptions, why not take some time to actually understand. Even a little. Like I said, my game plan isn't really in motion quite yet, but I have one post so far. If you'd like to read it, go to alittleandthelot.blogspot.com

"Walk On"

Please download this song - all proceeds will go to Run For Her, a 5K for Ovarian Cancer Research and Awareness.

Things I Try to Avoid While Walking in or Around my Office Building

1. Old Man Polyester’s Cologne.
2. My Gawky, Weird, Blonde Stalker.

Old Man Polyester:
He’s pretty classy. I’d say he’s about 70-75 years old, and he walks with a bit of a strut. Every time I see him, he’s wearing really nice slacks – very 1970s. The guy rarely smiles, but I just think of him as all business, all the time. But he wears more cologne than anyone I’ve ever been around. He must take a bath in it every day. I know when he’s been in the hallway and in the stairs, or in front of the mailboxes. His cologne lingers like a house guest who has overstayed their welcome. It lingers, and then it punches me in the face. Every. Day.

My Gawky, Weird, Blond Stalker:
I’m not sure how long ago it was that I started seeing this guy around my office building. But I slowly starting noticing his intense staring. Now, I’m not one of those girls that thinks every guy is after her, or everyone’s always staring at her. But I’m pretty sure this guy has a giant crush on me, and he is very awkward. And his skin is very pale and his hair is very blond. This sounds like I’m being mean, but I feel the need to say that there is a slight creep factor to this awkward fellow. If he sees me coming down the hall, he suddenly gets really nervous and says, “OH…” I give a “Hey”, and walk on by. Or he just stares at me while I’m in my car in the parking lot. Last week, he actually broke the ice. As I was getting the mail, I saw him coming. “Uh oh,” I thought, “Is he going to speak to me?” Ugh. He did. His line? “Jeans on a Wednesday?” I couldn’t understand what the hell he was talking about for a second. OH. I’m wearing jeans at work and he thinks that’s weird/funny/interesting. “Yep. Pretty casual at my office,” I said. He replied, “I’d get skewered for wearing something like that.” Skewered. After a few minutes of talk about casual wear at work, I was finally back to my office door. See ya! Guess what he talked about the next time I saw him? My casual outfit. “Wow, so casual again today…jeans, a tank top, flip flops…” Hey, remember that Wednesday a week ago when I said that my office was casual? It still applies. He wears a white collared button-up shirt and blue slacks every day. Like Ronald McDonald, he wears the same thing every day, and I think he may have 100 pairs of blue slacks and 100 white collared shirts in his closet.

These are things that I attempt to avoid every afternoon. I’d rather not suffocate on Old Man Polyester’s cologne. I also rather not suffocate in the trunk of my gawky, weird, blond stalker’s car. I’m sure I’m over-reacting, but I like to be cautious when I can.

Lauren’s Random Thought of the Day

The contraction “let’s” means “let us”.
Let us work together on this.
Let us go to dinner.
Let us walk across the street.

But sometimes if you actually want to use the words “Let us”, the contraction does not work.

What if you and a friend were kidnapped? You’d say, “Let us go!”
You couldn’t say “LET’S GO!!” That just sounds crazy.

It's early, and I'm tired and at work and I don't want to be, so this might just be a complainy blog. The coffee hasn't kicked in yet, even though I have been kind of guzzling it.

I came back from the Strawberry Music Festival on Monday, and now I feel inspired and frustrated. Inspired because I heard a lot of music, played a lot of music, and heard a lot of stories about people playing music. Frustrated because I returned to a messy, hectic desk, in a quiet, busy office where they make tax software, and I talk about the IRS all day long. I'm inspired because a place like a music festival brings out the best in people - you walk into a stranger's campsite, and they happily welcome you in. Frustrated because I'm back in LA, having to drive in a car next to strangers - you want to merge into their lane, and they do everything possible to keep you out.

I don't think I'm a cynical person. I'm just having a moment. I feel tired and cranky, and I just don't want to be sitting at this desk. If the people playing at music festivals can make money doing what they love, can't I too? I think so. Let me clarify though - I really cannot complain all too much about my job. I have a job. And it pays me well, and that is an amazing thing these days. Do I want it to be my career? No. But it is allowing me to start paying down my debt. And to feel the feeling of having no debt will one day be a very exciting thing. And it will also allow me to one day go to Greece. And it did allow me to go to the Strawberry Music Festival. Ok, so maybe I won't pack up and disappear into the woods just yet.

Alright. I got all that off my chest, so I feel better now. The coffee is doing its job, and my tired head doesn't feel so heavy. I think I maybe need to wake up a little earlier and have coffee at home. This would make for a less miserable first hour at work. I have rambled and half-complained enough. I am going to make the choice to have a good day, and continue the feeling of being inspired, and try not to be frustrated. Because that does me no good. Frustration just leaves me with complaints, while motivation and inspiration leaves me with goals. My goal for right now: wake up and stop complaining.

August and Ian

Well here it all comes again. Every year, as Ian's birthday approaches, he's in my mind even more than usual. I think back to all his other birthdays in his lifetime, and each one since he died, but I also reflect on my life now, and how he would fit into it. With every new friend I make, and important person that comes into my life, I get a stinging feeling knowing that they won't get to meet Ian. But a good friend recently told me that he feels like he knows him, because of all the stories I tell, and the picture I've painted about who he was. I find comfort in that somehow. Knowing that I am still doing a good job of keeping his memory alive is very important to me. But I can't help imagining what life would be like these days with him around. Now that I live in LA again, I know that I would see him a lot, like I see my other brother Josh. Ian would be so supportive of my band, and he'd be friends with my friends. He would probably try everything he could to get our songs into the movies or tv shows he was working on. He would recruit friends to our shows and brag to anyone he could. He'd still make fun of me and tease me whenever possible, and tell me to stop being the "fashion police" when I'd make a comment about his wrinkled pants or mismatched outfit. He'd be goofy Uncle Ian to baby Stella, Ben and Elliott, Josh and Emily's kids, my kids. In some way, he still is. Because we don't let go of all these memories. We don't stop talking about him. So on August 6th, what would have been his 32nd birthday, we'll celebrate him and his life, and have a drink in his honor. And live it up, like he did. He'd be happy to know we're all happy and having fun. So that is what we will do.

Little Bits

I have recently had some days of real sadness and loneliness. Sometimes a part of my heart has felt an aching that I don't know what to do with. So I've been dealing with it, sitting in it, and allowing myself to try to not just escape it easily. Because I know it could find its way back to me eventually if I don't face it now. In the last month, I've been more quiet and more introverted than usual. Some days, not as interested in being social or talking to people; even friends and family.

But last weekend, I spent several nights alone at my apartment. I felt like I was fighting off a cold, so I stayed in and stayed to myself and went to sleep early each night. By Sunday morning, I felt an energy that I hadn't felt in awhile, and it's stayed with me since then. I'm finally feeling little bits of myself coming back. I feel my silliness returning, along with my sense of adventure and fun.

I know I'll still have those other days, and I will let them come, but I'm glad to have the other little bits of me back.

Away I Go!

I'm beyond excited for my 4 day trip up North. I've been wanting to visit my friends in San Francisco, and visit my mom, sister, brother, grandma, etc, in Santa Cruz, and I just haven't taken the time to do it. I decided a few days ago that I'm going to go this weekend. After all my moving and dealing with everything in the last month and a half, I believe that I am due for a getaway. And a solo getaway, at that. I get to make my own plans, my own schedule, leave when I want, eat chocolate all day, tie my own shoes, get into multiple bar-room brawls...ahhh the joys of traveling alone.

Saturday morning, I leave. And will I drive and drive. An oil change is in order. And some good music, coffee, and a relaxed mind. Away I go.

Change

In just over a month, I've ended a 7 year relationship, moved out and into my own apartment for the first time by myself, and my best friends have had their first baby. Crazy crazy times. I've talked before about people being afraid of change. Sometimes you think that extreme change is going to make you feel better (i.e. getting engaged), and sometimes you're so afraid of it, that you stay in what you know, unsure of what the other side will look like. Right now, I'm pretty happy with the other side. That's not to say that I wasn't happy before, or that I have any regrets, because I really don't, but I did ignore my own heart for a long time. And that's a little bit sad, because it makes me realize that I think people do it all the time. We are comforted by the safety of the known, even if it's not always what's particularly best. I'm still here thrashing around, making my way through the unknown, but quite happily so.
I love my apartment. I love hardwood floors, even though I'm not used to walking on them yet. I half thud and half tip-toe. Feels weird on bare feet. I love how they look but I don't love dust. So I sweep more than I used to, and that's a good thing. And the room still a little echo-y, so I find myself whispering when I'm on the phone and in my apartment by myself. I love my curtains, even though they're wrinkled. But I don't iron. I guess I should start. I need a trashcan, a rug, a desk, a kitchen table. I need to re-upholster my bar stools. Hem the kitchen curtains. And put up art. Little by little, change is coming.

New things, scary things, many things

A lot of things in my life are different right now. I'm moving into my own apartment tomorrow. It's a new thing for me to live on my own. I've always had someone else to sign a lease with, and make decisions with. Now it's all on me. It's a good thing, I know, and it will help me grow a lot, but it's also just kind of scary. I don't know why I think "scary", but it is a little. I keep picturing my first night there by myself, sitting there with all my stuff around me. Will I feel overwhelmed? Sad? Lonely? Happy? I have no idea. Why are we sometimes so afraid of the unknown? Why do I fear being alone with my own thoughts? Is there really that much there for me to still discover? There must be.

2 nights ago, I had a really scary dream, where I think some man followed me to my new apartment, and I was trying to hide from him, and just crying out this strange cry. I was apparently making that sound out loud, and my brother came in to make sure I was ok. I couldn't even explain what my dream was. But all these fears and anxieties are playing out everywhere, in my dreams and in my moods.

I think fear keeps people from making changes and living their life to the fullest. WHY DO WE FEAR CHANGE? What is so scary about something being different? Comfort often wins. No one likes to feel vulnerable. But feeling vulnerable and scared and uncomfortable may be just what I need to really know myself better. So here I am, trying that on for size.

Here goes...

Busy Busy Beeeee

My dad just texted me and said, "Where is a new blog post?" I said, "I knowwwww right?!" Duh! What a slacker I am! How can my buh-buh-blog be in yo fa-fa-fa-face if I don't even write for 4 months? It's not in yo fa-fa-fa-face, it's down the stra-stra-stra-streeeet! Ohhhhhh, Lauren.

Well, here's a quick one, because I'm tired of being on this computer today. It's all I've done since I got home from work. Busy busy work. But who wants to hear about my boring, dumb, tax-form-filled, techie-nerd work? You don't. And neither do I. Anyway, I've been busy at this computer with promoting for our EP Release show on April 18th (at 8pm at the Viper Room - in case a random stranger/Slater fan is reading this, and doesn't already know about our show). It's only 13 days away, and our songs are almost done, and the artwork is almost done, and we are just so damn excited we could squeak! Who squeaks? I don't. Am I delirious? Yes, I think so. What have I even said so far? Not much. And yet, I continue asking myself questions. And answering them.

This is my current delirious state. You are welcome for this blog. It was this or nothing. Maybe you'd take nothing. Well, it's TOO LATE NOW.

Peace.
Double L