On the 18th lunar year after my mother spent 9 hours of labor, my rebellious teenager phase finally kicked into gear. Today, I:

– Decided there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was going to go swimming in 10 degree weather on my birthday, so I forged a note in order to skip PE class.

– Waited over 30 minutes in traffic just to order a #1 at In n Out, which included a Double-Double, a Medium Coke, and Well-done French Fries.

– Spent more than an hour at the grungy-hip Haight Ashbury tattoo parlor. Mutilated my body with a tattoo. Almost fell asleep if it wasn’t for the incessant buzzing sound. And woke up with some black lettering on my upper back that will always be there. Great.

– Was hit on by middle aged, over-the-hill french waiters as their pot-bellies poked out from between their black capris and tight white and blue striped sailor shirts.

– Continued to consume alcohol illegally and “underage”.

– Ate a devilishly delicious crème brulée.

– Went to bed completely and irrevocably happy with a prominant sting on my left shoulderblade.

Couronnée de Lauriers

Hope your day wasn’t as great as mine,

Laura Marianne

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When you know that the end is near, how do you react? Do you act differently knowing that everything will cease to matter in a few months? For example, when given a life sentence, whether it’s stage IV cancer or the death penalty, do you crawl into your corner waiting for the grim reaper? Or do you go out and surround yourself with anyone and anything that matters most? Do you try to fix all the harm that you have ever caused? Or do you live to the fullest not taking anyone else into account because soon enough you won’t be able to?

That got me thinking, I’ll soon be leaving this city called GAY. Whether it’s to listen to small indie rock bands and tortured poets in Seattle, to play beer pong and say “like” ever three words in Santa Cruz,  or to live and breathe coffee and cigarettes in London, I’ll be more or less away from here. So do I spend my last few months with the same three friends I’ve spent my last four years with? Or do I follow what my heart really wants and do things that I never would have before? Do I keep ignoring those few people that have plagued my high school career? Or do I search for redemption and acceptance leaving this place a fraction of a better person? Do I yell “Carpe diem” or whisper “forgive me father for I have sinned”?

Hippies lived their lives on drugs, content to be peaceful, and most of all, free of all worries.

Hippies lived their lives on drugs, content to be peaceful, and most of all, free of all worries.

Holding a grudge takes an enormously huge amount of effort, every day one has to remember and remind himself why he is angry and who he is angry towards. On the other hand, forgiving and accepting is extremely difficult as well, one must put behind the past and believe in change. And if you think about it, isn’t that what we all truly wish for?

But on the other hand, who matters more than oneself? Why would one intertwine and confuse himself in the tangled cool web of relationships and emotions. Why not wear those floral leggings you’ve always wanted to wear, but never had the guts to, afraid of what your friends would think? Or actually do your all of your homework one night because you want to go to a good university, but was always too lazy and pressured by your friends to not give a flying shit?

All in all, what is the recipe to happiness? Do we need the vital component of friendship and love? Or do we necessitate the clichéd self-acceptance and inner happiness?

And at that, I’m off to philosophy class,

Laura Marianne

“And you can tell Rolling Stone magazine that my last words were… I’m on drugs!”

– Russell Hammond, Almost Famous (2000)

With every rejection, I realize what was meant to be, and what was not.

With every acceptance, I find somewhere that is willing to take a chance on me, somewhere that believes of what I can achieve.

With every letter I get in the mail, I am one step closer to my future, to finding out who I am.

Everyday it gets easier. As my wrinkles soften and my nails grow out, I begin to accept the course of my life and deal with what is given to me. Today, I got into SEATTLE UNIVERSITY. Hmmm… Seattle………… When I think of Seattle, I think of Tom Hanks racing through the Empire State building taking his son into his arms, I think of trendy graphic designers rocking out on the bass with their fashion forward Asian drummer girlfriends, and I think of eccentric independent coffee houses covered wall to wall with multicolored piano lesson ads and miscellaneous band fliers.

Seattle sounds enticing, a whole new world of grunge music, hobo fashion, and aspiring writers.

What more can you ask for?

Laura Marianne

“I wanted to move to Seattle, sell my ass, and be a punk rocker, but I was too afraid.”

– Kurt Cobain