Those of you with keen memories will recall my brief mention of the new roomie situation I am in this year. I promised to return to the topic, and return, I have. I will now share with you a tale that will chill you to the bone, that will make your hair stand on end, and your blood run cold...


Just kidding! In all truthfulness, the story of how Heidi became my roommate can only be described as a miracle.

About the time I was preparing to come home from Seattle, I had applied to the U of Winnipeg, had lined up several summer jobs for when I returned home, and, in typical Kelly fashion, I was already turning my concerns and attention several months down the road to my planned move to Winnipeg, and, of course, the details surrounding it.

Where to live? Who to live with? Well, I knew what I wanted. An apartment. A roommate (female. Christian.) Independence. The ability to have friends over, come home late, and cook or not cook as I feel so inclined.

My lovely ex-roommate Sarah (my little Sarita!) had, of course, made new living arrangements when I left for Seattle. So she was out... I kept going down the list. It turns out, I have a million girlfriends in Winnipeg, and they're all pretty well settled here; no one was looking for a new roomie!

Fast forward several months... It's late July. I've been accepted into the Faculty of Education, I'm feeling peace and confidence about my future (a first for me), and I'm just a few short weeks of moving... where? Oh crap! Still no roommate! Still no apartment! Cue the panic!

In a last-ditch effort to pull my life together, I embark on a long-shot... à la random friend from Ontario, the amazing Eric Dick! Literally hours before beginning my arduous, many-legged journey back across the continent, through Seattle, to Managua, Nicaragua with my dear American friends from Focus Youth, I happened upon Eric on MSN, and asked him, could he please ask his sister Heidi (whom at this point I'd met twice; once in Ontario, and once in Seattle!) if any of the girls from her site (Outtatown) might be looking for a female, Christian roommate in Winnipeg for the fall. Eric kindly informed me that Heidi herself had already made arrangements, and that frankly, asking her friends was a pretty big long-shot (thanks, Captain Obvious!) but said that he would of course ask for me... discouraged, and with panic rising, I signed off, finished packing, drove off to Winnipeg, embarked a plane to Calgary, to Abbotsford, met my dear Minta for some dinner and a ride back to Sno-ho, where I hung at the Jensens’ for several hours, saw Benny briefly, got a ride to Bothell, met the crew at the church, loaded into a van, and got on my third flight of the day, the 10hr one to from Seattle to Nicaragua. FUN TIMES!

The trip was great, the youth were AWESOME, so good to see... man, I miss those crazies.... and about mid-way through the trip I got a chance to check my e-mail... YAY!

Imagine my surprise when I open my inbox to see an e-mail from none other than Eric "Hot Stuff" Dick (yeah... made that nickname part up just now) entitled "apartement" (don't ask me why "Hot Stuff" can't spell)!

Basically, the long and short of it was that somehow, over the course of the some-odd days since I'd chatted with Eric last, Heidi's airtight plans for a roommate had fallen through, and she was frantically looking for a replacement since she had already put a security deposit down on an apartment on Pembina Hwy close to the UofM (where she was planning on going).

Over the next several days, some rudimentary "get-to-know-ya" e-mails were sent back and forth, along with the obligatory apartment details; rent costs, location, etc; and to sum it all up, by the time my similarly-fragmented return trip from Managua had deposited me back in Winnipeg, I had appointment set up with Pembina Place apartments and Heidi's boyfriend Ben to check out the place and put my signature on a lease.

Oh, how I LOVE those moments! You know the ones... the ones where you have been waiting in limbo, in the midst of an overwhelming conundrum, in need of something that you have no earthly way of attaining, looking for a solution that is completely beyond your means and out of your hands... those moments where you have for once given things completely over to God... and have the incredible blessing of receiving the most perfect, unique, personalized gift straight from His hands! How blessed am I that that is exactly how it's happened with both my roommates thus far?

September rolls around and to Winnipeg I come... get my Mac (yay!), get moved in, get settled, and get acquainted with my roomie....

I guess the one thing you should consider, when moving in with Eric Dick's sister, is that she's Eric Dick's sister. And the apple apparently doesn't fall from the... other apple. Sooooooo... If Eric happens to enjoy bullying you as a pastime.... guess what Heidi might enjoy as well? If Eric happens to enjoy throwing things at you... what do you think living with his sister might be like? And if Eric has spent the vast majority of his life thus far inflicting light-hearted torment on those closest to him.... where might Heidi have learned it all?

I've been keeping a mental tally of all the cruel and hostile things Heidi has done to me lately, just so's I can keep a constant gauge on the abuse, which to date includes:
-heat deprivation: hydro costs a ton at our place, so my Nazi/Mennonite roommate (wow- bet those 3 words have never been linked quite like that before!) has decided that we just won't use any heat till either our possessions gather frost or our refrigerator unit is deemed superfluous.
-the afore-mentioned chucking things at me: usually soft things, but she does have a pair of skates so I'm concerned.
-calling me names: not them nice, fluffy pet names, either.... mean ones!

Those of you who are concerned for my welfare, don't worry; Child and Family Services has been notified, and they've informed me that they couldn't care less....

And in truth, Heidi's and my differences are, in truth, really just nuances.
She bullies, and I rant.
She studies, and I... don't.
She bakes constantly, and I talk about cooking. (It's a beautiful concept, isn't it?)
She sleeps all night, and I sleep all morning.
She owns a Dell (shudder!), I own a Mac.
She goes to UofM, I go to UWinnipeg.
She's got a boyfriend with a car, and I'm married to public transit.
She works out at the gym, and I... swing dance!
She plays hockey and soccer, and I play acoustic guitar (poorly).
She loves America's Next Top Model, and I'm ALL about Survivor.

Heidi and I thrive on, I think, on the principle that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
We're both benefiting from each other's unique and peculiar characteristics. I've started watching America's Next Top Model (okay, so I used to be a closet fan), and Heidi's getting quite into this season of Survivor (sniff... I'm so proud)! She lets me eat her baking, and if I ever actually start cooking, she'll be the first to taste it (actually, let's not lie, she'll probably be the second). And she's even very generously offered to lend me Ben in certain contexts to fend off creepy guys... don't think she actually ran that one by Ben first, but her heart's in the right place, nonetheless. Ben's given me rides before (THANKS BEN!), and I've tried to help Heidi become less hopeless with Winnipeg's Bus System.

Now let's be serious; some things will likely never change. It's unlikely she'll ever stop her Eric-like teasing, and I'll probably remain unable to refrain from ranting about tech support, boy troubles, commercials that I object to "on principle", and pretty much everything that crosses my stream of consciousness. She's not taking up swing dance anytime soon, and it would take an act of God to make me see exercise as even remotely worth the effort. I think UofM is the devil, and Heidi thinks my Mac is "just being difficult!"

So here's the breakdown; Heidi and I are very good for each other.

Plus, she's a fun time. She puts up with me when I barge into her room every 10 minutes with a new thought to share, my messy ways and the 1-week intervals between my dish-washing binges. She indulges my whims, including hosting a birthday party with an unusual premise and a quite random and extensive guest list. She wakes me up in the mornings on those occasions where it's absolutely necessary that I awaken on time. And in return, she gets free access to all the random shows I've dowloaded onto my Mac, use of the printer, and... yup, that's pretty much all I've got to offer.

Life with Heidi so far has been much more colorful than I could have possibly imagined, and for a girl whom I'd talked to only twice and exchanged about a half-dozen e-mails with prior to September, she's been pretty dang incredible!

Heidi, I'm turning 21 today. I'm entering into a new phase of my life, and it's about time I started putting my foot down. We've discussed this before, but I think it's important to let you know, Heidi, that as of today, there's a NEW sheriff in town.... me! That's right, Heidi, starting NOW, I'm gonna be the one ruling the roost! It may take you some time, but soon, you'll be singing the praises of this new system! That's right! I'm reclaiming authority over the thermostat! We're going to live in toasty, roasty happiness from this day forth!

Folks, wish me luck. This could get messy. (And expensive).

P.S. 15 Kelly-points if you can find and identify the little "bonus" in this post.

The last 24 hours have been quite unsettling for me, as I have come dangerously close to being branded a nerd, geek, or some other derivative thereof, on two separate occasions. And not necessesarily in a negative context, either! The first was implied, and the second, was rather heartfelt. But be that as it may, I'm now having somewhat of an identity crisis.

Nerd. Oh, how loosely I've thrown that term around in days of old. I remember in high school, where studying for one test for even half an hour would result in me announcing with equal parts pride and shame, "I feel like a total nerd!" to which David (Fenton) would enthusiastically respond, "me too... I even studied!" ...We were so naive.

These days I attend the University of Winnipeg, where I take great joy in schooling the heck out of some of the first years whom I attend classes with. I don't think my effort-to-output ratio has really stepped it up much since high school; I was a slacker then, and I'm a slacker now. Of course, there are others who school me with their work ethic and sheer nerdlike research methods. Am I becoming one of them? And if so, is there any hope?

Dictionary.com defines a nerd as:
1. a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person.
2. an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit: a computer nerd.

Now, for all my life I've rested easy with the assumption that this term could not practically, literally, operatively apply to me. Even if I were to skate the edges occasionally, there is no way that I could ever really, truly be a nerd. However, the events of the last few days have made me question my own judgement.

Yesterday, I was hanging out with a delightful new friend in the InterFaith room, and MySpace led to YouTube, where I introduced said friend to the numa numa video parodies, which, I must say, I was shocked that he had never been exposed to before, given his penchant for watching silly videos of that variety on YouTube.

After which he explained to me about a board game called "Diplomacy," which is sort of a mix of Risk, Settlers of Catan, Poleconomy(?), Survivor(?!), and civilized negotiations. In this game you consult and negotiate with other players about strategies, alliances, etc, before taking your turn. Then everyone submits and executes their moves at the same time! You can either hold true to your promises and negotiations, or you can take advatage of the trust and priveledged information to work your own dastardly schemes. The game appealed to me for its political and, let's be frank, Survivor-like factors, so I expressed interest in playing sometime, with the stipulation that there would be other girls playing, as it always sucks to be outnumbered.

To which my "friend" insinuated that I am a nerd.

Alright, alright, what he really said was that when you're getting into a game that nerdy, females are few and far between. (Or something to that effect).

Which I took personally, until he pointed out that I happened to be wearing my "I HEART Nerds" t-shirt that day. To which I had no defensible argument left. (P.S.- It's a SUPERMAN shirt... Clark Kent is in the HEART. So what I'm really saying is I love nerds- with super powers!)

So what do I do? Admit defeat? Am I a nerd? Or just nerdy by association?

To make matters worse...

Yesterday, on the bus ride home, I was chatting with another wonderful new friend I've made, and at some point he began explaining to me his recent trip to The Source (which I shall forever call Radioshack), to pick up this converter that translates coaxial input into RCA output, to which I butt in, "Oh, an RF Modulator?" Said friend was incredibly impressed (but confused) that I knew what he was talking about, so I told him I used to work at Radioshack. This sort of shock and awe look flooded his face as he said something about how unusual it is to find a girl who knows what she's talking about in regards to tech stuff.

I groaned. Inwardly, and outwardly. I told him I was a little sensitive to "nerd" association that day, and despite his obvious complimentary intent, I wasn't feeling any better about it.

So I've been thinking on it. And I think the matter is out of my hands. Does interest and rudimentary knowledge substantiate nerdiness? Have I crossed over to the dark side? And is there light at the end of this dark season of the soul? (Yes, I know I'm mixing metaphors.) This is a question better left in the hands of my (three) readers. Please, be honest, be brutally honest. I can take it! It's better to know now and face the truth than to live a lie! So please, leave your comments, your opinions, and your pronouncements here.

With hope,
~Kelly

There are a number of factors that have contributed to me sitting down and writing this blog, and I wish to recount several of them.

The first and primary one is the hilariously satisfying story my sister Becca shared with me while she, Megan, and I were talking obnoxiously loudly on Winnipeg Transit accompanied by, of all things, a wheelchair, recently.

The second has been Becca's recent cries of "foul" that Megan got her own blog and a timely birthday call (as opposed to a 30 seconds long, 4 day late, truncated call which, apparently, doesn't cut it!) Now ask me this: Do I play favorites with my siblings? Do I love one more than the other? Why, of course not, silly! So as a good sister, Becca, this one's for you.

Most of you have read my rantings from awhile back over the less-than-satisfying title my article on homosexuality recieved in the Living Hope Church Newsletter; if anyone knows the story it's Becca. Besides the fact that I think she's the only one who reads this thing religiously, (possibly the only one who reads it at all), I distinctly recall commiserating with her about it over the phone at the time.

So who's to blame when she herself makes that very same rookie mistake? Not I, I have washed my hands of it! My conscience is in the clear, which leaves my less-than-sympathetic side to laugh (mwahaha!) at the incredible irony of it all.

Here's how it went down:

Rebecca, my overworked, underpaid, poorer-yet-richer-than-me sister, who recently graduated from the University of Regina with her Social Work degree, has this year done the unthinkable; MOVED HOME! I, having just recently escaped such a situation, find this in and of itself humorous; that is, until I compare our bank accounts. Then I am silenced.

So living at home now affords Rebecca the opportunity to get ridiculously rich (just kidding, climb out of debt at a ridiculously fast rate?) since she pays no rent and has THREE jobs! To make matters worse, they're three jobs that I am somewhat threatened by (we're all about sister envy in our family... and, apparently, airing dirty laundry).

For one, she's doing some special needs home care for a family in Russell, which is actually cool with me because she's incredibly great with people, but somewhat annoying as it's my old job and besides the fact that she's probably better at it than me (isn't she always?), she's making money while I am... not.

Her second job is really the more irritating one, as she is substitute teaching at Major Pratt, while both Megan and I toil away at our B.Ed's. I mean, where's the delayed gratification they're dangling above my head if any random hack or sibling can just walk in and command a classroom? Once again, I'm sure she's incredibly good at that too, but I had somewhere in my mind counted on at the very least having teaching as the one thing my older sister wouldn't be able to "been there, done that" me over in the future while she offers me those ever-so-irritating words of wisdom (read: beating me over the head with the obvious).

Her third job is as some sort of computer education co-ordinator for the community. That one makes the least sense to me at all, but I tend to underestimate Becca's tech skills so I really have no idea what's going on there. And it is this third job which has offered me such great personal entertainment in recent weeks, or specifically, an incident that occurred around it.

As the Community Access Co-ordinator or whatever the heck she is, Becca facilitates basic computing courses. But these courses are no good if the fair citizens of Russell are unaware of their goings-on. So, Becca did what any good Russellite would do- turned to mainstream media! Becca wrote an article for the Russell Banner outlining her job, her program, and her classes, and both cleverly snuck around the unappealing prospect of paying for advertising and gave Terrie Welwood the unexpected treat of having to write one less than her usual frenzied weekly quota of news articles for the Banner (those things don't write themselves, you know)!

However, upon completing her opus, my dear sister was struck with the ever-difficult question of a headline. And for reasons both unknown and inexcusable to me, she decided, "What the heck! Let Terrie come up with a title!" and naively submitted her unnamed masterpiece.

I tell you, I don't think I've EVER laughed so hard on Public Transit as I did that day... especially when Becca sheepishly recounted the line that had swept across the Russell Banner:

"Meet Rebecca Cochrane!"

Alright folks, just in case you're not getting it, this is funny for MANY reasons!

"You mean, besides the fact that this obnoxious title has NOTHING to do with the content of her article?"

Yes, yes I do.

For one, in Russell, everyone knows everyone, and even more so if you're Rebecca, whose location can be verified by all within a 5-mile radius when she laughs, and who is adored by every mother, child, and responsible adult.

However, people lose track, so it's nice to have a bold proclamation in the town paper to remind everyone, "She's Back!! (again?) She's still a Cochrane! (single?!) And she's still doing her part for the community, like always! (awww, shucks!)"

There's nothing like the fanfare that goes with being 23, single, with a Bachelor's degree, and moving back to Russell (it's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there!) to live with your parents.

Which is FAR from the whole picture, and SO far from the heart of it, but, at least for me, that's the mental picture that the tactless line evokes: crazy overcompensation. And that's the trick with headlines- they speak SO loudly. I've never truly appreciated the value that they hold, but since apparently my words have not been heeded by the 4 people that consider this page read-worthy (thanks, mom and dad!) I will say it again:

IF YOU DON'T TITLE YOUR OWN ARTICLES, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LIKE WHAT YOU FIND IN PRINT! (And you're going to have to listen to me glibly say "I told you so!")

So heed my words of wisdom... too many people (with the last name "Cochrane") have paid for this knowledge with their dignity.

P.S. Happy Belated Birthday Becca?

Those who know me personally know the somewhat volatile relationship I have at times with my little sister; it's the type that can be most accurately described as love/hate. (I should specify that the love vein runs deep and constant, while that pesky hate is really more of an easy irritability that often rears its' ugly head.)

Is anyone with me on how frustrating this sister thing is? (Or sibling relations in general, for the testosterone-endowed among us.) I can fully accept that I'm a basket case in almost all aspects of human life, but there's nowhere I feel my relational inadequacies as acutely as when confronted with a head-to-head with my baby sister. What IS IT that makes it so impossible to find common ground with someone with whom I share my genes, my values, my world-view, my last name, and my past?

We're so different; we're SO alike. Stubborn, independent, fierce, opinionated, loyal, defensive, drop-dead gorgeous (!), and proud.

I'm two years minus 3 weeks older than Megan, and to talk to her you'd never know it. My older sister, she admires; my older sister, she respects. Me, she usurps. It feels like she's made it a goal in life to overtake me! I think the root of my frustrations as an older sister (it's my only chance, you know) is that she's constantly depriving me of my primary right as her elder: adoration.

Did she adore me when we were younger? Hmm... it's really hard to recall; she was too busy chasing me around the kitchen-living room-dining room loop in our house with large blunt objects to really come out and say so; maybe it was there, deep down.

What about in our teenage years? Well, by then I was too busy making a part-time job out of humiliating her with my lightning-fast wit, so once again, opportunity lost.

I do have these small victories, though. However much she hates the thought of it, I do hold some sway in her life. So to console myself I have formed a small mental tally over the years of things that she does that I "did first"; things, of course, I converted her to.

From the bands I told her for years that she would love, to the snowboarding (a work in progress), I like to THINK I am responsible in some small way for her finer moments, her wiser choices. She maintains that it's incredibly frustrating how I take credit for all her ideas and decisions (when they're good), but I KNOW, deep down, that some small credit is due me for the path she's carving in life.

An occasion for such celebration came lately, when I opened my e-mail to read an out-burst of rationale of a type I'd never quite encountered in a Megan e-mail before; she was telling all her friends to see the light in regards to those pesky and poorly executed threat-like chain mails that are endlessly circulating, pretending to be from the creators of Hotmail or whoever; and demanding that you harass 18 or more friends by proliferating some useless junk mail just to keep your free but crappy e-mail account. Megan's response? Well, it was short, but it was sweet, and my heart just swelled with pride as I read it.

Time stood still. The whole earth seemed to pause and hold its breath in expectation. And finally, finally, my little sister stopped fighting her destiny, and took her first baby steps in becoming more like me.

It's all in the ranting.

People, this is proof positive! I mean, I knew she must at least have learned some things in life from me, and THIS is one of them! I mean, ranting is my LIFE! I can't go more than 18 hours without spilling my guts in the most burdensome fashion on those poor unfortunates standing nearby! If you're on my phone list, in the Inter-faith room, or in my e-mail address book, look out! I just may puke up all of my frustrations of the moment on you in one swift blow! (Yes, I KNOW it's excessive, and Yes, I'm SORRY. If you've ever been a victim of ME, I'm seeking professional help. It's why I've become a blogger. To rant into earless cyberspace.)

But back to Megan, whatever the foundational causes of your sudden outburst of conviction and opinion, I've never been so proud!

Okay, alright. All wild and unintelligable ranting aside, as much as I like to joke (much to Megan's chagrin) that all her finest and wisest moments are mere emulations of me, her secret hero, the reality is (as I can no longer deny it) that Megan Lee Cochrane is really coming into her own. Have you MET her lately? I mean, she's always looked like my older, hotter sister (much to MY chagrin), but watching her navigate friendships, school, life, being half-handicapped, and deeply religious- lately, I'm seeing something I've never seen in her before. My baby sister's becoming her own woman! (Insert cheesy sob here.)

Okay, stop your cheesy sobbing. I'm being serious.

It is, right now, the eve of Megan's 19th birthday. Yes folks, as of a half-hour from now, she's legal in Saskatchewan! But we all know what this is really about: For the next 3 weeks her 19 will look pretty formidable up next to my 20, and you can bet she's gonna be doing her darndest to close the gap. So Megs, go for it! Giver' hoss! For the next 3 weeks, you can be my slightly younger, slightly hotter, better-than-ever little sis. And I'm going to treat you with the dignity you deserve! I'm going to brag about you, tell all my friends, and even hook you up for a couple blind dates! (Oh, the generosity of me...) But after that, I'm resuming my rightful role:

That annoying thing that popped out 2 years minus 3 weeks ahead of you in life.

Happy Birthday, Megan. You're Awesome. You're 19. And you still dance circles around me any day.