So this is what the Middle Ages were like.

This is the end of Week 1 Without Internet. Our defense systems are crippled. It is impossible to do my homework correctly. It is also impossible to watch Hulu when I need a study break. It is impossible to look any worse than I already have been, staying on campus all day while fighting the plague that also ravaged our apartment this week. The change in the weather has made my face break out- but only around my mouth- so it looks like I'm suffering from herpes in addition to midterms and what is basically tuberculosis.

Speaking of which, I have to get tested for TB in two weeks and am already panicking. My cousin said it hurts so bad. Will I get so worked up that I cry? I have a solid history of being dramatic at (1) water parks, and (2) doctor's offices.

What if I test positive?? Will I be immediately hospitalized? Will friends gather 'round my bedside and sing me songs from Les Mis? If the Lifetime channel makes a movie about my race against the clock, will I still have enough time left to star in it? If I don't, could they get Emma Watson to play me? Will my roommates automatically get all A's when I die? (I heard that once.) Will my professors also give ME all A's, posthumously, raising my GPA to its former glory? Will BYU still print me a degree? Will all the unmarried men on campus experience at least one night of insomnia, where they lie awake in bed wondering if I was THE ONE! and if they just blew their eternal happiness by not betrothing me when they had the chance?!? Will I get to COME BACK TO PEOPLE'S DREAMS and give them advice on stuff they should do?! They can say all the things they wish they would have told me when I was alive and ask me questions about the afterlife, which I will only answer with a knowing wink! Or will I leave them clues throughout their dream and they will have to figure out what it means?! Would that turn everyone into Inception junkies and America would shut down because everyone would just want to sleep all the time to see what I'm going to tell them next?

Yes. Backspace the part about leaving scavenger hunts in dreams. That is an awesome idea that would have disastrous results. Redo: I will only show up RARELY in people's dreams, and when I do I will be very straightforward.

But maybe whenever someone says something really funny over the pulpit, you will hear a faint cackle swirling about the rafters of the chapel.

Oh, from whence is that soft breeze? the congregation will wonder. 

That tinkling laugh has an etherial musicality to it– and is not at all too loud, jarring, or inappropriately timed. 
Who does this remind us of?  

Oh! 

None other but sweet Lauren, 

with her serene temperament, clean language, and gentle sense of humor. 

How fortunate we are that her presence is gracing our meeting today! 
Gosh, she was the best.

This is the logical sequence of events I think of when told I will be tested for tuberculosis.

Oh, I'll tell you Exactly what I am going to do after I graduate

Which is this December, in case you were wondering. (It's been a very popular question this week.)

You know what, fools? The Mayan calendar is ending! I've been waiting for this day since I was in 5th grade and I have timed my education perfectly, i.e. I am going to walk out from my favorite university ever with a fancy diploma that I'll never have to use- because guess what?! 

I'm getting RAPTURED, suckas!! (And hopefully, I'll see you there.) 

And in the sliver of a chance that the fabric of the universe as we know it does not unravel on that particular day, then oh wait- I'll just have a highly specialized skill set that makes me a marketable job candidate! At least in Wisconsin, because I know one person there and she's a big deal in that news market!

I have concluded that sometimes life is magical and opportunities rise up like poppies in the spring. Strange but wonderful things happen everywhere you go, like you are Giselle in New York City.

And sometimes life is not as magical, like when a diabetic person suddenly goes into cardiac arrest when you are passing by them in the mall. So what do you do? Do you complain? Do you hope that maybe if you wait a little longer, it will all get better? No! You get the defibrillator and bring back the magic yourself with some high voltage and serious adrenaline. Then you get that puppy out of there! [and when I say puppy, I mean human being!]

Bottom line: If your life is looking like a Disney movie, well done. Whatever you are doing, you should really keep doing that! And then write a self-help book for the rest of us! 
But if your life needs a little shock therapy, remember that you are the first responder here.

I tend to lean towards the dramatic when fantasizing about the future. But do not think I am not serious, because drastic things always increase my excitement tenfold. [It took me less than an hour to decide I was going to move to London and D.C.]
In the words of my mother,

I Have A Lot Of Good Options.

1.) Move to Canada/Washington/Northern California and become a park ranger, who lives in a cabin by herself in the middle of the woods and spends her days reading American poetry and Brit Lit in the glories of nature. (This is the actually the one I dream about the most often.)

2.) Move back to D.C. and work as a press assistant- or at least in J Crew, because they are hiring. ...Purchase an iron.

3.) Study for the Foreign Service Officer Exam. Eventually pass it, and serve 2-3 year stints all over the world. Get to stand in the "expert traveler" lane when going through airport security.

4.) Study for the LSAT (uh, quickly) and go to law school. Which I would probably enjoy much more than actually being a lawyer afterward.

5.) Go to Salt Lake and get an awesome job producing radio or something equally enjoyable. Live with some other people who also moved out of Provo. Or join the Occupy movement- because seriously people? Have we not gotten over this dysfunctional camping trip? What do we think this is, 2011?!

6.) I could go on a mission... OR I could go to the DR Congo and be a Mother Theresa in a fistula hospital. I read a book once that said white women can do that.

7.) Did you know the ladies who work at Clinique counters don't actually have to wear makeup? That might be a lie, but just look at them! They have clear skin and that is about it. I'm good at that.

8.) As a triple citizen (U.S., Canada, Great Britain), I can work anywhere I want in the E.U. Does anyone like to hear their news reported in an American accent? Because I speak fluent English.

9.) Kentucky. has a basement. with a bed in it. that I have first dibs on. So if I want to race horses or go to dental school, maybe it's not too late.

10.) My stars will align! I will get a lucky break and a) go on tour as someone's backup singer, b) get to write sketch comedy for the rest of my life, or c) inherit the kingdom of Genovia.

It's funny how you can own a closet full of good options and still have nothing to wear.

The Internship That's Not About Bunnies

In nine days I start my internship with the National Council for Adoption. Doing "media relations" and "shadowing their attorney on the Hill"- so basically, I have no idea either. We're just gonna let this thing fly.
Also, in case you were going to ask (again) "So what do you want to do after you graduate?"
my answer is still a vague but promising "Something awesome." Right now I have more important things to figure out. Things like how to work the D.C. metro and where to buy food.

Never having been a pregnant teenager myself, I actually have no experience with adoption. So how FORTUNATE that right before the semester ended I got to help a real-life orphan stay out of the system.

My friends found him underneath a car in the parking lot- named him Dobby and took him in- even though it was finals week and they really didn't have time to deal with a rabbit pooping all over their house. What good souls. Naturally, as soon as fb informed me of this I was at their front door with some carrots.

We tried to take Dobby for a walk (hop?)... the leash was made for a small cat but could also accommodate a rather large bunny. Turns out the reason Dobby is so large may be because he doesn't really like to jump around in the grass but likes very much to sit there and eat it.

Let's be honest: I am not an animal person. But that thing was like a stuffed rabbit, I tell you. It would just lie there in your arms and calmly wiggle its nose.
I was smitten.

Natter the Elementary Education Major.
"Just attach this photo to your resume and anyone will hire you."

Using my "social networking skills" that I bragged about in my application I started a marketing campaign (ie. status update) to save dear Dobby from the animal shelter.
As it happens, another girl I don't know adopted him first. But FOR THE RECORD, I did have a legitimate bunny-lover contact me after the fact.

What this experience has taught me is that successful adoptions can take place as long as you have
a) friends who are looking to 'add one more' to the family, or

b) friends who just can't say no to faces like this.

Congratulations on your new home, Dobby!!

When I Am Famous

When I am famous, you will know it.
 

I'm still working on the "how" part, but believe me- it's going to be good. And it's definitely going to happen within the next decade, so I'm not going to be the one to tell you not to hold your breath.
Because it could also be tomorrow.

If I ever do weather again, I'll do a better job and post the video.
Also, I will not wear that sweater.

If there's anything I learned from Megamind, it is that everyone loves reporters. Especially ones who still have a hankering to chop all their hair off- even though they may not go on another date for the next three years until it grows back out to a reasonable length. 

AND I have been practicing the ukulele for my Washington, D.C. debut. So the planets and all my ducks are pretty much in a line, as far as that goes. My big break is coming. I just want to be ready.

When I am famous, I will have a personal chef to prepare delicious meals for me that will be ready when I come home. LIke THIS asparagus grilled cheese.

Personal chef will also be responsible for SLR photo-documentation so my fans can glean insight into the beautiful lunches I eat.

Sometimes we will play "Chopped," a game in which I return home and start throwing random items out of my cupboard in a maniac fit. "Fruit Loops! Parsley! This gifted wheel of cheese!" and Personal Chef will have to deliver some delicious concoction to me within half an hour.
("Thank you for my cereal-crusted salmon with french bread and herbed cheese fondue, Personal Chef. That was delightful. We will resume with snacktime in two and a half hours.")

I will have a personal stylist who will take me to J. Crew, tell me I look good, and buy me things.
When I ask, "Gold sparkles?" Personal Stylist will always answer "Yes." (The same also goes for sweatpants.) 

I am not crazy about pools. I mean, I am a GREAT layer-outer, but I can be slick with sweat and still not have the urge to jump in the deep end and douse my hair.

So when I am famous, I will probably not have a pool. But I will definitely have a pool boy. Most likely three. Since I won't have an actual pool to clean, their job will mostly consist of feeding me frozen grapes, fanning my neck, and serenading me on guitar in their swim trunks whilst I absorb my Vitamin D. 

I saw this on a Pinterest bucket list. REALLY, people?? Way to shoot for the stars. 

When I go to the Ellen DeGeneres show, I won't be dancing in the audience with the rest of you fools.

I will be dancing like a fool all by myself on stage. I will sit in the comfy interviewee seat. I will probably get pranked or start crying over a sloth or something, which you will later show to your friends and family via youtube and brag, "I was there when Lauren Simpson stuck that thing up her nose!"

As many of you may know, I have found my true calling this semester in my floral design class. It has spoiled me considerably. When I am famous, I will always have fresh flowers on my table. And also bowls filled with every different kind of M&M that exists.

When I am famous, I will have a giant library. And a balcony attached to it. With a hammock.

When I am famous, I will be a "regular" at Bikram Yoga. Other members of the class will be specially selected based on their ability to not whine while simultaneously not putting me to shame with their elastic spines.

The face that will one day grace your cereal box.

So if you want to get out your bathing suit and sweat towel now and start practicing... I'd say not a bad idea. 

One day I will be a crafty woman.

Sometimes you have to start small.

Like making a summer-camp Tennessee bracelet as you casually log the video you shot. 

Or painting your nails with the bottle you keep in your backpack. (One of my favorite hobbies.)

Or enjoying feet that sound like Christmas morning as you wait for a repairman to explain the bowl of ceiling juice that collected on your floor.

But just for the record, I am in FLORAL DESIGN this semester. So I'm already feeling ambitious in the festive kind of way.

Jars. I can do that.

Heart-shaped cinnamon rolls.

This one I almost didn't post because whatever I come up with won't compare. 

What I'm not feeling is ambitious in the ambitious kind of way. I talked on the phone with my mom for an hour the other day (ha I say that like it's something unusual) about what kind of a real, "big-person" job I am going to find after I graduate.
Yikes.

Do they need any videographer-consultants at Kleinfelt's New York? Because I am great at weddings. And hitting it off with strangers. And giving pep talks. And telling people what to do.

Plus, I love him. Look at that smile. 

He is the type of person whom, if he were to say, "Lauren, jump off that bridge"- I would probably reply,
"Yes, Randy. Good idea. I trust your judgment implicitly based on your perfect track record of finding the high-maintenance women of New York City their dream haute couture wedding dress."

Happy almost-February.

P.S. I know what you are all thinking.
"Lauren, you haven't said anything about your plant! Has it sprouted yet?!"

... the answer to that question is no. No, it has not.

The Other Game Plan

"Oh, broadcast? That's so fun!"

Yes, for sure. For everything the program is and isn't (including the mandatory haircut that killed my dating life for about a year), broadcast is pretty fun. Your labs involve latex gloves and math. My labs involve being on TV. Your internships involve sitting at a desk, sorting mail for your congressman. Mine involve football.

But then comes the follow-up question:
"What do you want to do with that?"

I thought about that a lot this August. I mean, a LOT. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I really had no idea.  Luckily, a woman like me always has a plan- even if that plan is based on nothing more than Socratic logic. 

The Plan*: 
Have a great senior year. ("When do you graduate?" uhh... good question. August? maybe?)
Have lots of fun. (So far: check and check.)
Don't over-analyze things. (Actually, it's easier than it sounds when you just refuse to worry.)

THEN- 
In April- because that's still a few months before graduation-  I will start praying. Really, really hard. For a good job, or further educational opportunity, or C) none of the above. 
Anything really- just to know what my next step should be. Just to figure out the right path. 

 "Or do you still wait for me, Dream-Giver?"

And then something really really good will happen!

Even when I write this out, it sounds pretty cavalier. Explained aloud, I tell this story (like all stories) with a lot of animation. You think I'm kidding... but I am actually completely serious. 
A lot of people I know would probably call this kind of thinking foolish, unprepared, naive. I'm not denying that I'm not all of those things. But this kind of Hellen-Kellering my way through the dark has another name, too. It's called faith.  
And frankly, right now that's all I've got. So that is what I am sticking with!


I think Walt Disney has my back on this one...

Pocahontas didn't know what she was doing either. She was just running around barefoot picking some corn, talking to trees and and avoiding relationships with the hot warriors in her tribe.

 Look at her. She was nuts. 

But all she had to do was wait for a while and follow her dreams- which led her to meet John Smith, help out the settlers, and save her people from war with a technologically-advanced enemy!

At least... until John Smith went back to England and she was captured and married someone else and her people eventually all died of smallpox and on the Trail of Tears. 

 That sound you hear is my metaphor crumbling down around me. 

*Haha. No, but really. I am thrilled with my game plan and I am sticking to it. 
What is the "other" one, you ask? Just go down this rabbit hole to find out!