This is me.

  Yesterday I was so excited by the novelty of this blog that I skipped right past the formal introductions.  As a result I have already brought a sense of awkwardness to my blog. The first post deals with the beheading of Hitler and the second post will go on to introduce me.  The queen of awkwardity.

My name is Laura, I am a teacher, I am a writer, my biggest achievement is making it to the ripe age of 23 in one piece.  I’m Canadian born and raised, but at 22 after finishing my first degree I decided to take a break from Western culture and journey across the pacific to the land of Kimchi and the morning calm – also known as South Korea.  I have spent my year teaching English among other things to young children in a Canadian school.  Now, with two and a half weeks remaining, I very much look forward to my return to the mother land.

On August 5th, 2008 I will marry one of the greatest men on the planet (tied for first place with my father) on a beach in the Caribbean. We have done zero wedding planning (other than picking out what we’re going to wear) so I’m sure it will be an interesting day. We’re kind of leaving everything up to the resort wedding planner.  Just the way we like it.  Pass the work off to someone else and forget about it.  I suppose I fly in the face of the stereotypical bride in that I just want to show up and have everything ready.  I haven’t dreamed about the day since I was a little girl, so I’m sure whatever the wedding planner decides will be fine.

I am quirky as is my fiance.  It’s why we fit so well.  We enjoy making fun of people and are easily annoyed by strangers and co-workers. We like playing jokes on people and scaring them by jumping out at them from behind doors. Especially children.  Have you ever scared a child?  Hey, don’t knock it ’till you try it!

I am opinionated. I am passionate.  I am passionate about writing. I am passionate about music. I love politics.  I love discussing issues. I am down-to-earth.  I am laid-back. I have a temper. I am competitive. I am 3 parts introvert and 1 part extrovert. I am a better writer than I am a speaker. I am compassionate. I am nerdy. I love to learn. I love to teach. I am afraid of everything. I take risks. I am obtuse. I am acute. I am a right angle. I am an equilateral. I suck at common sense math. I am genuine. I am whoever I say I am, in the paper, the news, everyday I am. I am bad at introductions. I hate small talk. Sometimes I hide from people I almost know in the mall. I am a small-town girl.  I am stopping now.

Let’s figure this out as we go.

This week in the world…

A 41 year old man from Berlin ripped the head off of Adolf Hitler.  The wax version, of course.  It all went down in Berlin at the opening of the new branch of Madame Tussauds.

It was an act of protest and quite frankly I fail to see why anyone should be surprised.  Apart from the fact that he shoved two museum workers out of the way and damaged museum property, I myself am unsure as to how I feel about a wax depiction of he whose very name represents hate and death.

While I understand that Hitler was, is, and always will be a monumental part of world history (good or bad), on some level I know it will make me feel sleazy to see a shinier-than-normal Hitler with glowering eyes staring back at me if I ever make my way to Madame Tussauds in Berlin.

Perhaps within me there’s a subconscious belief that people like Hitler and Stalin have no place outside of history textbooks.  Maybe my problem is that I think we should save the wax for the Mother Teresa’s and Nelson Mandela’s of the world.  Maybe all Hitler wanted was to be remembered so widely when he was gone. Somehow, I worry that the borderline creepy unhumaness of wax Hitler will serve to humanize him more than he deserves.

If it wasn’t for the shoving and the damage to property, I don’t know, I might even agree with the man who did it. Who knows, perhaps upon arrival to Madame Tussauds I would get the urge to decapitate Hitler myself.  However, the difference between me and this 41 year old man from Berlin is that at that point I’m sure my superego would slap my id in the face and I would just walk to the next exhibit.