What the _uck is that?

Okay so maybe I feel a bit obligated to provide some sort of explanation so that people don't dismiss me as a complete whack job (or maybe in attempt to justify my derangement idiosyncrasies to myself). It is all too apparent that I am ceaselessly amused by most derivatives of names for excretory matter. Like poop, poo poo, poopie, dookie, doodie, and of course my all time favorite DOO DOOOOOOOOO!!! (which must be spoken with the proper intonation, mind you) No it's not normal. I realize this, but let me explain my theory of why this may be. During my childhood, I never used these words, because I was taught to say BM.
I need to BM.
Where is the BM?
Did you BM today? Yes, this morning.
Ummm, yeah...kind of lacking in excitement there.
At some point there came a realization that other kids were not using this expression. And along with it came the discovery of this vast collection of alternative words.
Why does saying these words, or better yet hearing someone else use them, tickle me so? Why does my brother insist on nicknaming me with the word poop, from just plain poop, to poop diddy, to the specially reserved P – double O – P diddy?
Believe me when I tell you, it's not our fault, we just can't help it! (Well, admittedly the whole P. Diddy obsession is some kind of personal problem of his.) Blame the parents.

It's raining.

I forgot my umbrella at home today. So it rained on my head all day as I traversed through the city. It sucked. But thankfully I am not (yet) sick as a result.
This whole month has been gray and rainy. I don't hate the rain, in fact I find it rather calming and cozy (while indoors). However I prefer consistent changes in the weather. Because I get through the rainy weekdays knowing that the sun always spends its weekends in Paris. This evening I checked the forecast and much to my disappointment, that will not be the case this weekend. I suppose I will have to make do with indoor activities.

Last weekend was especially beautiful and on Sunday I went for a ride on a bateau-mouche along the Seine. Blending in with the other tourists, I held the metal speaker to my ear listening to the historical explanations of le Louvre, les Invalides, and various other points of interest. Afterwards, I walked along the Seine soaking up the sun.

Oh yeah, for Thanksgiving, Madame and I went to a restaurant for Indian food. Oddly, that seemed a bit normal (although not much like Thanksgiving). I had chicken tikka masala (admittedly a non-South Indian dish) and a sweet lassi. Rice-based cuisines always bring me comfort. Although I am still waiting for that sweet potato pie (ahem, Jade!). And I am really missing the frantic shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Ah well...

Your Royal Highness will suffice

Yesterday morning while waiting for class to start, the English girl in my class tells me:
I had a dream about you last night.
Moi: Really? What happened?
Elle: You were the queen, like the queen of everything in the world.
Moi: Oh wow.
Elle: Yeah except you were a wretched, awful queen. You treated all of the people badly and punished everyone.
Moi: Oh no! That is so terrible.
Elle: Yeah, it was strange. Because I was thinking she is nothing like that.

And right she is, I would treat my subjects with nothing but kindness.

how to get a boy to like you

...in 2 easy steps
1. Find someone to tell the boy that you like him.
2. Do nothing and watch as he begins to like you.

Not that I have ever done this, it's just that it always seems to work on me.
Really though, is it just me or has this happened to anyone else? Your friend tells you that a friend of hers that you have recently met likes you. Yeah girl, my friend really likes you. He is a really sweet guy. You did not find this friend unusually appealing. Not that you think anything is wrong with him, you just didn't think anything of him. Your feelings were neutral. But after she tells you that he likes you, that starts to marinate in your mind and you find yourself thinking hmm... he likes me, okay. Well maybe I could like him too. She said he was really sweet. He did seem really nice and he likes me. As if the fact that he likes you must mean that something about him is great. He has excellent taste, so that's a good start. Here's where that crazy planning commences. He can take me out and we can do xyz. Yes that will work, and then... But then you actually see him and he doesn't overtly act as if he likes you. So you are wondering, wait a minute, I thought he liked me, what happened? He is supposed to like me! And perhaps by now you maybe sort of like him a little bit (it doesn't matter that this is only the second time that you have seen him because you have your mental image of him... and the 2 kids and the yearly vacations to the Seychelles, no wait! just kidding!)
Anyway maybe this only happens to super indecisive people with overly active imaginations. But I'm sure I can't be the only one.

a day filled with gifts

I am finally in possession of the ever elusive carte de sejour. Yea! It only took 4 visits to the office at Cité Universitaire, tons of paperwork (which never seemed to be completed just right, hence the need for 4 separate trips), and a 1.5 months wait for a medical exam. The exam consisted of me following orders that were being yelled in my direction (in a very non-sterile environment). Standing on a scale. Covering one eye at a time and reading letters from far away and words from close up to test vision. Stripping naked from the waist up to have a chest x-ray. (By the way, I am now the proud owner of said x-ray, which I'm told will come in handy...) Inhaling and exhaling. Answering medical history questions. Forty minutes, a few tears, and 55 euros later the card was officially mine.

Tonight I went to the Daniel Swarovski Autumn/Winter collection Poetic Night show. The collection was gorgeous. The decor was beautifully done. Everything was very sparkly, notably the champagne (which may be why this post is a bit rambly and full of adjectives/adverbs with -ly endings). Best of all, I received a bag of take-home goodies! Yeeeessss!

and more gifts

A pair of healthy non-smoking lungs.

These pictures definitely do not do the show much justice. Sorry. The lighting was dim and I'm not much of a photographer.

Or videographer, it seems.

..yawn..

My weekend was maybe a bit less than exciting. Or if you prefer rather serene. Although some would flat out call it boring.

I had plans to go to Fountainebleu on Saturday, but unfortunately the weather prevented that trip. So I went to the movies instead and saw Prête-moi ta main, which was very funny, and it convinced me that I need to learn all the bad words (not to say them of course (so don't add me to the prayer list just yet...or at least not for this), but to be able to recognize them.) I returned home, ate dinner, and then watched OSS 117 (parody of James Bond, with a stereotypic french guy; also funny).

Today began with a late brunch*, followed by an old ass season 4 episode of ANTM and some studying. Fill in the blanks with some other activities equal in liveliness...

Other unrelated life news: Lately I find myself addicted to yogurt. I can't get enough. Greek yogurt with honey. Creamy yogurt with crème de marrons. Yogurt flavored with fruit. Between yesterday and today, I have consumed 5 containers of yogurt (not those little yoplait types either). I must have the healthiest vagina this side of the Mississippi Seine. Fact.

* Some may argue that a late brunch is nothing more than lunch. But I conserve the title brunch since it consisted of breakfast-type foods and it was the first meal of the day served in that I just woke up atmosphere.

where my heart used to be

I guess that I never got over it the way that I thought, since it is bothering me again. This calls for reflection (not to be mistaken for obsessive over-analyzation.)

A long time ago, he called me heartless. Heartless.

Defined as: unfeeling; devoid of compassion or feeling; unkind; unsympathetic; harsh; cruel; pitiless.

(To be fair, he called me a lot of other things, but this particular word has stuck with me for whatever reason. That reason might be because maybe some part of me fears that he may have been right.)

Heartless?!? Me?! Seriously though, heartless?

But he's not the only one that has felt this way. I have been told that I can be standoffish. At times distant. Sometimes those who should, do not feel close to me. Is it just part of my character? Am I a private person? Or is that an excuse offered to avoid change?

None of the above.
I don't want to be a cold person. I am not heartless. And I definitely don't go out of my way to be mean to people. I care about the people in my life deeply. So what's going wrong? Apparently the problem must be that I don't show it in a way that is received well. I need to do something about that. Which means I have to make an effort to express my feelings and affection. Because I want my loved ones to know how much I care about and appreciate them. I need them to not only know it, but be able to feel it. This has really been tormenting me lately. (It's probably not helping that I keep listening to Ice Box by Omarion and wondering if that is how I am. Although that is not the same situation really. So I can safely assume no.)

Not to imply that I am in any way evil or that I would like to turn into a boy, but writing this made me think about the Care Bears movie. Remember at the end, when Dark Heart turns into a boy and changes from evil to good and he starts turning cartwheels?

Bottom line: Please be patient with me. I'm working on it. Why? Because really...I care! I care! I care!

I like pretty sparkly things.

Diamonds.
Jewelry.
White teeth.
Lip gloss.
Christmas lights.

I spent the afternoon browsing through the many floors of le Printemps. I love Christmas time! There is something inexplicably comforting about cold weather and winter time in general. Although I love the energy of summer and all that comes with it and I dread having to trade the light casualness of summer and fall wear for the bulk of layered outfits and dry skin. Until winter time actually descends, I never remember how much I love it.

In other news, I must be shedding my signature clueless look for something more cosmopolitan, because people are always asking me for directions. And today, I actually had an answer (apart from Je ne sais pas. Desolée.). Say what?! You know what that means! There is hope for my sense of direction yet.

out of fear of sounding too emo

I will keep this to a minimum.

This past week has been draining. I'm not even sure why.
I suppose I let my anxiety get the best of me.
But tomorrow is the start of a new week.

I'm not like this all the time.

Today I have been angry.

Maybe because Halloween is not that big here, which made me miss home. Maybe because the sun wasn't shining, and the sky was dark and gray. Maybe my blood sugar was too low. I'm sure it was a combination of multiple factors, but the bottom line is that I was in a bad mood. I managed to find something wrong with everything that crossed my path today.

The metro was especially infuriating.
On my way to class I somehow ended up behind the slowest people ever. Three middle aged couples, holding hands and walking as slow as humanly possible in the middle of the walkway, disabling anyone, notably me, from passing. I felt like yelling out, "Can we walk a little bit faster here! Seriously people, you are in love, okay great. But you are not walking down the aisle, so pick up the pace!!!" Some of us have places to go. And they would not be extent of the slow moving people in my way today.

Later at another metro station, I saw 5-6 police officers questioning a man (which to me looked more like harassing). They made him empty the contents of his pockets onto the ground and from the look on his face it seemed like he had dealt with this treatment before. His wife stood near by waiting with a baby. It infuriated me! Particularly when I walked back by the spot where they were, maybe 5 minutes later, they had him against the wall with his pants pulled down. Seriously, his seafoam green brief underwear exposed for the passing world to view! That is just not right. I don't know what offense he committed and I won't claim to understand race relations in the legal system here, but that did not quell my rage.

On my ride home, I was wondering why do people feel the need to be so close to me. Why do they have to stand on top of me, trying to hold my hand on the pole. I need some space to breath. Back up! I decided that people must try to bump into me on purpose. This can be the only explanation, because the calculated probability that 82% of people that walk by me would bump into me accidentally is astronomical. And why was everyone shopping today? Don't people have jobs or at least something else to do!

Nothing fit right today. The waist in my jeans seemed looser than normal and as a result my pants were falling off my ass all day. In stores, clothing that looked great on display, took on a hideous appearance when paired with my body. A gorgeous navy blue coat made me look too much like a doll. And a simple black sweater screamed out that I was insecure and wearing a sweater that my grandmother had given me. (Thanks to Carin and Nisreen for the insight.)

The ATM refused to give me the amount of money I was requesting. I already explained to Wells Fargo that I am living here and to please stop denying my charges suspecting that they are fraudulent. Give me my money!

Even trivial things annoyed the hell out of me today. Like the water in my toilet bowl being blue preventing me from gauging how hydrated I am by the color of the water. Or the stupid mistake that I made on my test that brought my score down to 19.5 instead of 20. I couldn't find my nail clipper. I tried 3 different ways (the start menu, the shortcut on the desktop, the little icon in the toolbar) multiple times each to open iTunes on my computer this morning. None of which worked and I had to restart my computer. Everything frustrated me. I had no patience.

I returned home earlier than usual, looking forward to salvaging my day with a persimmon. (Oh the goodness that is a persimmon.) Only to remove the fruit from my bag and see that it had been squished by everyone bumping into me all day. Aaaarrrgh!!!!!!!!

Maybe everything really was going wrong for me today. Or maybe I'm becoming jaded in this city, where the concept of forming an orderly line is foreign, a person who smiles too much is considered naive, and even the traffic signals have attitude.

I ran and I ran, I was looking for me

Lately I have found myself disheartened by how much I have yet to experience in life.
Yet to see, yet to taste, to touch, to feel.
Yet to accomplish, to discover, yet to become.

Sometimes I feel the need to do it all, be it all.
That need drives me, but in the same breath it overwhelms me. It is unreasonable, I know. Leela, life is a journey, my dad reminds me at every given opportunity.

Life is short and it offers so many options. I don't want to waste any opportunity or talent that I have been blessed with. But when I run, I miss so much along the way as life turns into a blur. And when I stop to contemplate the alternatives for too long, I waste time with indecision.

So for now I take my time, absorbing all that is around me. Every moment becomes significant. I gaze at my surroundings in awe. I savor all that I taste. I allow myself to be distracted by anything that catches my attention. I take in everything, as it sweeps me away or repulses me. My senses are heightened. My mind is open.

I spend my days and nights, making my way through this dream existence. I accept that life is a journey and I've slowed my pace. Walking attentively, one foot in front of the other.

life is beautiful

Don't you hate it when real life starts to interfere with your blogging? Anyway, this was my weekend.

I have been congested so I decided to succumb to everyone's advice and try some nasal spray. Nasal sprays always make me nervous and until now I have never been able to actually spray the liquid into my nose. But I am happy to report that I feel like it is working.

Saturday I spent the whole afternoon and much of the evening at le Centre Pompidou (which I now honor as my absolute favorite museum of all time ever) with Carin. The best exhibit was the Fabrica: Les Yeux Ouvres. It is remarkable the way the exhibit approached current issues through creativity media. The beauty of the art contrasted with the often hideous reality (ie violence, world hunger, poverty, racism, political injustice etc) is brilliant. Maybe I'm a little too excited about this, but I enjoy contemporary art and the possibilities that it reveals. One of the best aspects of the exhibit was the COLORS magazine notebook project in which people around the world were presented with an opportunity to express themselves however they pleased in a blank notebook. This collection of notebooks was displayed for people to read. I was especially moved by a notebook written by people in Uganda whose lives were affected by a spouse dying from HIV/AIDS (and additionally frequently themselves or their children suffering from the disease). The stories were handwritten in raw, straightforward language and accompanied by headshot photographs. As I read the stories my tears flowed as candidly as the words - assuredly filled with grief but more importantly hope and fight to live.

(Yeah, okay. I was getting a bit too happy with photoshop.)

Carin and I went to Ladurée today and I had a raspberry and passion fruit tart which was heavenly. We went to Sephora also which was the worst decision, because EVERYONE was there, pushing (without saying excuse me) and spritzing perfume all over the place.

I will end with this sentence that I read on another blog in a comment and that commenter read it somewhere else, so I don't who to credit, but I'm feeling it. The only way we have to find a reference point is continuing to move.

Be careful! 220 V can kill.

That's what my mom said to me after I told her about my first electricity incident. The night of my arrival, I was organizing my room and I decided that I wanted to plug in my iHome player. I used the US/EURO converter that I bought in San Francisco to plug it in. As soon as it was plugged in, the clock illuminated much brighter than usual, but everything seemed okay. Except that the plug was making a strange sparking, popping type sound. I thought maybe something isn't right, but before I could do anything, the current blew out. The plug was smoking and that outlet along with 2 others on the same wall were no longer working. OMG, seriously Leela, do you have tear up the house on your first day!? Couldn't you have at least waited a week, or even a whole day? Damn. Not to mention that I now had to buy a new AC cord for my iHome player.

Following too closely was the second incident. I brought along a US surge protector outlet strip on the premise that instead of buying a bunch of converters, I could just use 1 converter to plug the strip into the wall outlet and then plug all of my US plugs into the matching outlets of the US strip. Seems like a good idea, right? Well I thought so too. Until I went to plug it in and it blew out the electricity again! A single pop and the whole house went dark! God help me! What's really going on?! I was totally shaken up and nervous. I was trying to explain what happened while they were trying to restore the electricity. I felt rush-of-anxiety terrible. This was when my fear of plugging things in fully materialized. The electricity was quickly repaired and Monsieur plugged my power strip in and unplugged it to test it and it worked fine for him. Still I was too afraid to try again. 1 week passed and I really needed to plug my stuff in. The battery in my toothbrush and camera were completely dead. Plus I really needed to do something with my hair. Tomorrow I will try it. I kept postponing it to tomorrow. I finally built up some courage. Just plug it in. Remember when Monsieur did it, it was fine. It will be fine. I kept reminding myself in hopes that I would believe it. I held my breath and slowly plugged in my power strip. No popping. No smoke. Yea! Everything was working pretty well. Granted my blow dryer was blowing extra hot and the charging base for my toothbrush was generating quite a bit of excess heat. But it was working! That was the important part, right? I had to be extremely careful with everything I plugged in though. The heater for my wax was so hot I had to unplug it after only 4 minutes. It was smoking and smelled like it was on fire. And after plugging in my flatiron for approximately 1.5 minutes, it was too hot to even use on my hair, if I still wanted to have any left. So I learned to be very attentive. I ironed my clothes on the lowest setting. I turned off the power strip whenever I left and unplugged everything that wasn't in use.

The third incident (which I fervently pray is the last), was when I plugged in my flatiron for the second time. I unplugged it after maybe 45 seconds because I sensed that it was getting too hot. I picked it up and it had left burn marks on the towel it had been resting on. Then the ceramic plates fell off! Seriously fell off! My Farouk Chi ceramic flatiron!!! It had gotten so hot that parts had melted and the plates came off. I love that flatiron and now I don't know what to do. I am soooo distraught. There must be some way to salvage it! Super glue? Something? Oh why the flatiron? I guess the bigger issue here is that I need to get a transformer to enable my appliances to work properly. But really, what am I supposed to do without my flatiron? Sad times.

Note: For all of your smarty-pant, observant people thinking, wait a minute, I thought France uses 230 V? Yes, you are right.

Americans have more fun! (an experiment)

Hypothesis: Drinking wine improves my French comprehension and expression.

Variables:
The amount of wine that I consume
The amount of wine that the others consume
The duration of time during which the wine is consumed
The effect that consuming the wine has on the accuracy of my perceptions

Methods and materials:
1. Attend a dinner party with:
3 boys whose uniting language is Japanese (Mr U, Mr K, and Mr 5)
3 girls whose uniting language is English (Mlle S, Mlle C, and moi)
2. Be served plenty of wine and food.
3. Record observations and conversations.

Results:
Moi: But I really am shy! (I insisted while starting my x glass of wine.)
Mlle C and Mr K: You are NOT shy! We do not believe you.
Mr K: Americans talk a lot.
Moi: We talk a lot because we like to have fun and we enjoy parties where everyone is laughing and having a good time (or at least I do).
I still stick with my assertion that I am shy. Really, I am! I'm not usually quiet once you get to know me, but initially I am shy. Definitely wasn't convincing anyone of that yesterday.

Moi: Don't laugh at my French!
Mlle C: He's not laughing at your French, he's laughing at you.
Moi: Oh! I see.
Mr K mocked both my French and English. Specifically my voice, which never ceased to amuse him. Apparently, making fun of me is an activity enjoyed by people of all cultures. Hmmph!

Mr K: I love MAC.
Mlle C and moi: I love MAC too!

Moi: I love Madonna.
Mlle C: Me too!
Moi: Do you like Madonna?
Mr K: I ADORE Madonna.
Who would've known that MAC and Madonna are capable of surpassing all language/cultural barriers? (Is it any coincidence that both are American? I think not. ;))

Wow, why is a random guy in the metro dominating the pic?

Conclusion: The more wine I consumed the better my French became. Mr K even noted that the more wine he consumed, the better he was able to understand my French. Point 1 for team Leela! (I think...) Mlle S served as a control since she doesn't drink alcohol. As a result, she remained confused during most of the conversations (including the English, so I'm not really sure what was going on with her). The results of this preliminary experiment are consistent with my hypothesis, however I cannot rule out the possibility that perhaps the variables skewed the results. Thus more experiments are necessary before I can confirm my hypothesis.

WTF: Leela ate sushi!? Yeeeaaah booooy! Vegetarian sushi!!

I heart my mimosa.

No, not the drink.*
The plant. Better known (to me, at least) as touch-me-not. For those of you who may not be familiar with this plant, it has sensitive leaves which fold together when you touch them. The leaves also close at night and reopen in the morning.

This plant grows plentifully in Kerala in south India and it has been my favorite since childhood, because I love to touch the leaves and watch them close. (Obviously, I am easily amused.) So when I saw it for sale at a local exotic plant store, I decided to buy it. I was a bit nervous about its chances for survival considering the lack of sunlight here (and the 15 € price tag). But it is doing well thus far. So we shall see.

An afterthought: It is Friday evening and I am blogging about a plant.*

* unfortunately

O' sailor, why'd you do it (so not a political rant)

2 nights ago I dreamt that I was being pursued by some scary-looking authorities of some sort. The details are a bit convoluted when reviewed in the daylight, but I recall being in a large room at a seminar type gathering, when 2-4 of these uniformed authorities removed me to question me about what seemed like a financial extortion matter. I'm not too sure about the story line. I am sure that this dream subject was spawned from President Bush's recent signing of new legislation allowing "more vigorous" interrogation of suspected terrorists. (story here)
Between the Bush administration and the war in Iraq, people don't need more reasons to be mad at the US. Can't we all just get along?

It goes without saying that many people (of all nationalities) have some disdain for the US' current leadership and policies (myself included). I love the United States with all its imperfections. I mean, it is where a lot of my family and most things that I hold dear reside. It is where I have spent the majority of my life. It is my home. Still there are things about the US that make me ashamed, angry, and disappointed; there are even more things that bring me joy. The beauty of the US is found in the freedom to agree or disagree and express these feelings to anyone who will listen. Still looking from the outside in, I see why many groups dislike American culture. Oui, je suis américaine, but wait, because I don't end there... Not all of us fit the ugly - self-centered - disrespectful - overindulgent - wasteful - loud - garrulous - know-it-all - arrogant American stereotypic mold. There is so much to miss if one is guided by preconceptions, so I try not to approach situations on the defense expecting to be hated. And when I stop to think about it, I realize that the vast majority of people have greeted me with nothing but kindness, acceptance, and maybe sometimes a bit of curiosity (all of which arguably may have nothing at all to do with my nationality). But when someone meets me and finds out that I am American and their immediate question is "Are you republican?" or "Did you vote for Bush?" I will answer amicably (and yes, this has happened), because I hope that they will take the time to get to know me for all the things that I am.

Really though, how can they not love me? I'm so darn cute.

if you're happy and you know it

Let me post an update before you people start with the death threats.

I see possibilities.
I see beginnings. I see endings.
It is what's in between that eludes my grasp.

Surprisingly, I am okay with that. In fact, better than okay. Way better.
I am not consumed by anxiety resulting from the uncertainties of my life. Instead, I find myself in love with the power that change commands. I am giving personal meaning to the affirmation "You can be anything you want to be."

Now I'm ready for whatever’s meant to be...
~ Sway

Where is the love?

Ya'll ain't right.

And you know who you are. So don't even sit there all smug looking around the room, thinking 'who me?' Because you know I am talking about you.
So maybe I have a reputation of being a bit, let's say distracted or maybe even dazed. So what? "Just cause I'm blind, don't mean I'm dumb." Not that I'm blind, but you get my drift. That Dave Chappelle is too funny. "It might be doo doo!"
Anyway, back to my point, I'm not stupid. I too can read between the lines and notice patterns. I can put 1 and 1 together to create 2. So let's explore my findings together.
Why are all the comments to me always along these lines:
Leela, you are (mos def / indeed) special.
You are (such a hot / a very hot / the hottest) mess.
You have issues (and/or problems).
TIme to refill the meds Leela. (Okay yeah, I made that one up, but I'm sure someone was thinking it.)
Leela, have you been drinking AGAIN?
Must I continue...
I mean even the comments that I leave on other blogs solicit these same types of comments in return.
Oh! And another thing, why am I always on the bottom of all the friends' blogs links lists? Miss Jackson and Mr. Gbajabiamila. Alphabetical my ass. This is supposed to be a blogging circle of love.
Just for the record, I am NOT always confused, as some would like to believe.
And yes, I have been drinking. Champagne bitches.

It might be doo doo!

Last night I dreamt (among other things) that I walked into my bathroom and saw unflushed poop in the toilet. Simply a still image: toilet + poop. No surrounding action.
I woke up this morning, turned on my computer, went to the bathroom and there it was. Weird.
(Note for clarification: The girls stay the night on Wednesdays and share the bathroom with me. So I’m assuming that one of them must have forgotten to flush.)
Naturally, I wondered if this was an implication for the atmosphere of the rest of my day.

First day of class and I was untroubled by the expected anxieties. Will the other kids like me? What if I don’t know any of the answers? Oh what to wear? Distress that seemed so juvenile. So far away.

And rightfully so, because today was far from crappy.
My accomplishments of the day:
- went to class (on time without getting lost)
- understood the teacher and the material
- participated in class
- socialized with my classmates
- bought the books for class
- went to Starbucks
- telephoned my mother
- carried myself with newfound confidence and a familiar smile

Dream interpreted: When someone leaves sh*t in your toilet, flush it. Move on.