7-Foot Python Found In Toilet
Labels: scary
In My HeadWednesday, December 13, 2006
I always, ALWAYS look into the toilet bowl before my ass hits that seat. No matter what.
7-Foot Python Found In Toilet
7-Foot Python Found In Toilet
Posted by Lori at 12/13/2006 06:51:00 PM
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Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Tonight is my final Public Speaking class. I'm giving a seven-minute speech on investing for retirement, and I'm so nervous that I think I might throw up.
Wish me luck...
Wish me luck...
Labels: scary, Toastmasters
Posted by Lori at 12/05/2006 04:40:00 PM
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Monday, September 11, 2006
I'll admit it: I was a few minutes late to work that morning. Walking across the parking lot to my office building, I stared up at the sky, which was bright blue, cloudless and still. It was a perfect late summer day. I wished I'd called out sick that day. It was just too beautiful to be cooped up inside.
I entered one of the elevators with another woman who had a cell phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder. She was listening intently to whomever was on the other end of the line, occasionally inserting a gasp or a murmured "Oh my god." I rolled my eyes.
I had just sat down at my desk and taken my telephone off the auto-answer setting when it rang. The caller ID displayed my parents' phone number.
"Lori? Are you at work? Have you turned on the television?" My mother was so breathless I could hardly understand her.
I responded, "Of course I'm at work--you just called me here! Slow down. What are you talking about?"
"A plane hit the World Trade Center...I'm watching it now on Good Morning America...oh my god, it's terrible!" she babbled. I assumed she meant a small prop plane. Hmmm. There must have been some kind of awful accident, which was a shame...but hey, life goes on.
She kept me on the phone for over ten minutes, giving me a play-by-play of what was happening. I kept trying to log on to MSNBC or CNN to see it for myself, but those sites were totally locked up.
Finally, around 9 a.m., I told her that I'd call her back in a minute. Our friend Phil lived and worked in Manhattan, and I figured I'd call him to see what was up. But before I had a chance to even dial his number, I heard a scream from one of the sales rep's offices at the far end of our suite.
Another plane--a jet--had hit the second tower. Immediately, all business ceased in the office. We gathered around the radio of a senior sales rep and listened to the news broadcast. Two or three of my coworkers kept whispering the same word, over and over again: terrorism. It must be.
I glanced over at my friend Christina, who was pale and visibly shaken, moreso than the rest of us. I approached her and asked her if she was okay.
Her eyes were glassy as she answered, "My mother might be in one of the towers this morning."
"What? Does she work there?" I asked, grabbing her hand.
Christina nodded. "Kind of. My mother lives in New York. She has her own dry cleaning delivery service and she has a lot of clients at the World Trade Center. I know that she's supposed to be there this morning--she stops there every morning to pick up and drop off people's clothes."
"Have you been able to get a hold of her?"
"No," she whispered. "All the lines are busy. I just can't get through to her cell phone." Her lower lip trembled and a single tear wound its way down her cheek.
Closing my eyes, I tried desperately to envision Christina's mother, a woman I'd never met before, alive and well and safe. When I opened my eyes, Christina was back at her desk, crumpled over like a forlorn ragdoll.
I returned to my desk and decided to call Phil. Of course, the entire telephone system was down in New York. I thought about my best friend, who was scheduled to fly home from a business trip in Orlando that morning.
I spent the next thirty minutes watching live webcasts on MSNBC and CNN and talking to Brian on the phone. We'd just gotten engaged ten days ago. The entire situation seemed unreal. Then the latest breaking news appeared on my monitor: the Pentagon was on fire. The White House was being evacuated. The Washington Mall was on fire. The stock exchange was closed. Airports around the country were shutting down. This must be the end of the world, I thought.
My phone rang again. It was my friend who was in Orlando for a business trip. She told me that she and her coworkers were going to rent a car and drive home to Philadelphia, since the airports were shut down.
I trotted back to the sales rep's office to listen to KYW. By this point, speculation was flying around the room. Were we at war now? With whom? Was this another act of domestic terrorism, like the Oklahoma City bombing?
Shortly after that, we watched in horror as the first tower, and then the second tower, collapsed. The vice president of our office announced that we were free to go home for the remainder of the day and be with our families.
I looked over at Christina and my heart ached for her. She had no family to go home to--her father had died within the last year, and she still had not heard from her mother. I walked over to her desk and asked her what she planned to do. She replied that she was not going to leave the office until she got a hold of her mother.
"I'll stay with you," I volunteered. I couldn't leave her alone in an empty office, waiting to hear about her mother's fate. Everyone else left as Christina and I sat together at her desk, watching the chaos unfold on CNN's website. Another plane was reported down in a field in Pennsylvania. Other than Christina's occasional shaky breaths, we passed an hour in silence.
Shortly before noon, Christina's telephone rang. Her eyes widened, but she made no move to answer it. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the receiver and picked it up, not even daring to say hello.
I was greeted by a torrent of frantic, jumbled English and Greek. It was Christina's mother. She had been delivering dry cleaning to a client in the second tower when the first plane hit. She told me that everyone thought it was either a bomb or an earthquake. The floor that she was on began evacuating almost immediately, and it was a damn good thing. Ten minutes later, the second plane hit her building, and she would have been trapped on the floors above the plane had she not started down the stairs just then.
She passed many people in the stairwell who could not continue. She tried to encourage people to keep going, but they simply refused and sat down. They were too tired or too out of shape to do it. Sprinklers were spraying water all over the place, drenching everyone. Then the building lost power.
In all, she climbed down sixty-some flights of stairs, and spent over an hour getting out of the building and onto the street. Once outside, she watched as people began jumping out of windows from the ninetieth floor (or higher!) of the towers. She decided to head home on foot, and was standing mid-span on the Brooklyn Bridge when the first tower collapsed.
I handed the telephone to Christina, who spoke to her mother for a few minutes before being disconnected. I stayed with Christina for another half-hour, just to make sure she was okay to drive herself back to her apartment. Then I went home.
For the rest of my life, I know that I will no longer be able to look at a perfect late summer/early autumn sky without thinking about all the death and the horror that took place that day.
I entered one of the elevators with another woman who had a cell phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder. She was listening intently to whomever was on the other end of the line, occasionally inserting a gasp or a murmured "Oh my god." I rolled my eyes.
I had just sat down at my desk and taken my telephone off the auto-answer setting when it rang. The caller ID displayed my parents' phone number.
"Lori? Are you at work? Have you turned on the television?" My mother was so breathless I could hardly understand her.
I responded, "Of course I'm at work--you just called me here! Slow down. What are you talking about?"
"A plane hit the World Trade Center...I'm watching it now on Good Morning America...oh my god, it's terrible!" she babbled. I assumed she meant a small prop plane. Hmmm. There must have been some kind of awful accident, which was a shame...but hey, life goes on.
She kept me on the phone for over ten minutes, giving me a play-by-play of what was happening. I kept trying to log on to MSNBC or CNN to see it for myself, but those sites were totally locked up.
Finally, around 9 a.m., I told her that I'd call her back in a minute. Our friend Phil lived and worked in Manhattan, and I figured I'd call him to see what was up. But before I had a chance to even dial his number, I heard a scream from one of the sales rep's offices at the far end of our suite.
Another plane--a jet--had hit the second tower. Immediately, all business ceased in the office. We gathered around the radio of a senior sales rep and listened to the news broadcast. Two or three of my coworkers kept whispering the same word, over and over again: terrorism. It must be.
I glanced over at my friend Christina, who was pale and visibly shaken, moreso than the rest of us. I approached her and asked her if she was okay.
Her eyes were glassy as she answered, "My mother might be in one of the towers this morning."
"What? Does she work there?" I asked, grabbing her hand.
Christina nodded. "Kind of. My mother lives in New York. She has her own dry cleaning delivery service and she has a lot of clients at the World Trade Center. I know that she's supposed to be there this morning--she stops there every morning to pick up and drop off people's clothes."
"Have you been able to get a hold of her?"
"No," she whispered. "All the lines are busy. I just can't get through to her cell phone." Her lower lip trembled and a single tear wound its way down her cheek.
Closing my eyes, I tried desperately to envision Christina's mother, a woman I'd never met before, alive and well and safe. When I opened my eyes, Christina was back at her desk, crumpled over like a forlorn ragdoll.
I returned to my desk and decided to call Phil. Of course, the entire telephone system was down in New York. I thought about my best friend, who was scheduled to fly home from a business trip in Orlando that morning.
I spent the next thirty minutes watching live webcasts on MSNBC and CNN and talking to Brian on the phone. We'd just gotten engaged ten days ago. The entire situation seemed unreal. Then the latest breaking news appeared on my monitor: the Pentagon was on fire. The White House was being evacuated. The Washington Mall was on fire. The stock exchange was closed. Airports around the country were shutting down. This must be the end of the world, I thought.
My phone rang again. It was my friend who was in Orlando for a business trip. She told me that she and her coworkers were going to rent a car and drive home to Philadelphia, since the airports were shut down.
I trotted back to the sales rep's office to listen to KYW. By this point, speculation was flying around the room. Were we at war now? With whom? Was this another act of domestic terrorism, like the Oklahoma City bombing?
Shortly after that, we watched in horror as the first tower, and then the second tower, collapsed. The vice president of our office announced that we were free to go home for the remainder of the day and be with our families.
I looked over at Christina and my heart ached for her. She had no family to go home to--her father had died within the last year, and she still had not heard from her mother. I walked over to her desk and asked her what she planned to do. She replied that she was not going to leave the office until she got a hold of her mother.
"I'll stay with you," I volunteered. I couldn't leave her alone in an empty office, waiting to hear about her mother's fate. Everyone else left as Christina and I sat together at her desk, watching the chaos unfold on CNN's website. Another plane was reported down in a field in Pennsylvania. Other than Christina's occasional shaky breaths, we passed an hour in silence.
Shortly before noon, Christina's telephone rang. Her eyes widened, but she made no move to answer it. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the receiver and picked it up, not even daring to say hello.
I was greeted by a torrent of frantic, jumbled English and Greek. It was Christina's mother. She had been delivering dry cleaning to a client in the second tower when the first plane hit. She told me that everyone thought it was either a bomb or an earthquake. The floor that she was on began evacuating almost immediately, and it was a damn good thing. Ten minutes later, the second plane hit her building, and she would have been trapped on the floors above the plane had she not started down the stairs just then.
She passed many people in the stairwell who could not continue. She tried to encourage people to keep going, but they simply refused and sat down. They were too tired or too out of shape to do it. Sprinklers were spraying water all over the place, drenching everyone. Then the building lost power.
In all, she climbed down sixty-some flights of stairs, and spent over an hour getting out of the building and onto the street. Once outside, she watched as people began jumping out of windows from the ninetieth floor (or higher!) of the towers. She decided to head home on foot, and was standing mid-span on the Brooklyn Bridge when the first tower collapsed.
I handed the telephone to Christina, who spoke to her mother for a few minutes before being disconnected. I stayed with Christina for another half-hour, just to make sure she was okay to drive herself back to her apartment. Then I went home.
For the rest of my life, I know that I will no longer be able to look at a perfect late summer/early autumn sky without thinking about all the death and the horror that took place that day.
Labels: bad news, family, friends, life events, memories, scary, work, writing
Posted by Lori at 9/11/2006 11:10:00 AM
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Tuesday, May 09, 2006
The homicide rate in the city of Philadelphia in 2006 has reached 125. That comes out to almost one murder for every day of the year so far. If you were to turn on any of the major local news networks at any given time in this area, the big story always concerns how to reduce the crime rate in the city.
What do I think is the first step in stopping the cycle of violence and crime in Philadelphia?
Birth control. Young, uneducated women must stop having babies; otherwise, the cycle of welfare, drugs, crime, and violence will never end.
Think about it. That's where it all begins. Most young girls who get pregnant either stop their education at high school graduation or drop out altogether to have babies. In doing this, they have generally rendered themselves unqualified to land a skilled job. Many young mothers are raising their children without financial, physical, or emotional help from the father. Instead, they depend on public assistance and/or profits from criminal activities. When a child is raised in this type of environment, how do you think that child will end up? The cycle will continue. Sure, there may be a few who escape that life relatively unscathed (I sure as hell hope so), but I think for the most part, the same story will play itself out over and over again.
Why are young women having babies in the first place? Because they think that a child will allow them to experience unconditional love. Probably because their own mothers were young and uneducated when they had them, too. Maybe they truly don't understand the concept of birth control, and they don't know that a baby is a result of inserting Tab A into Slot B. Perhaps it's peer pressure: that's what they think they should do, because all their girlfriends and sisters and cousins are doing it. Or maybe they're just being careless. As someone who understood from a very young age that having a kid as a teenager or without a serious and lasting commitment from my partner would screw up not only my own life, but the kid's life too, I honestly don't know why anyone would choose to make a baby when the odds are so obviously stacked again her.
Birth control is the clear starting point to reduce the murder rate. It will not be effective immediately, but in the long run, I can't help but think it would change life in Philadelphia for the better. People like my parents, who believe birth control and premarital sex are sins, should pull their heads out of the sand and take a whiff of the real world: these kids are having sex, and nothing will prevent them or stop them from doing it. Further, I would venture to say that most teenagers who are having babies aren't benefitting from secure parenting themselves, so they're not getting good information or learning good decision-making skills at home.
My fervent wish is that someday, in the very near future, the Philadelphia public school system will make condoms and other forms of birth control available to preteens and teenagers. Educate them about anatomy and sex. Give these kids access to healthcare professionals who will answer their questions honestly and without judgment.
I completely agree that abstinence is the only 100% guaranteed way to avoid pregnancy, but to most young people, that is just not an option. Period.
/rant
Labels: bad news, deep thoughts, health, local news, parenting, Philadelphia, scary, sex
Posted by Lori at 5/09/2006 01:39:00 PM
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Monday, May 08, 2006
I did something this weekend that surprised even ME. I mean, I've been thinking about it for a while now...perhaps even a year or so...but what I bought on Sunday brought me just one step closer to the reality of what I believe will lead to the next chapter of my life.
I bought a basal thermometer.
I know...sounds ridiculous, doesn't it, because those five words appear so minor and meaningless. But you have to understand my position: I have spent over a decade trying to AVOID getting pregnant. So it feels fantastically and almost indescribably odd to turn in the other direction.
Scared to death and signing off for now...
I bought a basal thermometer.
I know...sounds ridiculous, doesn't it, because those five words appear so minor and meaningless. But you have to understand my position: I have spent over a decade trying to AVOID getting pregnant. So it feels fantastically and almost indescribably odd to turn in the other direction.
Scared to death and signing off for now...
Labels: decisions, health, life events, marriage, parenting, scary
Posted by Lori at 5/08/2006 01:14:00 PM
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Friday, December 02, 2005
Sorry I haven’t been around lately. It’s been a difficult week.
First of all, this coming Monday, I am taking a very difficult exam in order to get credentials for my job. I have been studying for this exam for months, and though I know deep down that I’m pretty well-prepared, I am still a nervous wreck. I hate tests.
Then, last night I took my older cat, Bailey, to the vet. He’s been acting weirdly for the past several months, and I figured he should be checked out. He’s lost weight, seems listless, and no longer plays with his brother (our other cat Sebastian) anymore. He just kind of mopes around and has no energy.
Trying to get this cat into his carrier to go anywhere is an ordeal. It took Brian and I about ten minutes, working together, to secure Bailey in his little crate. Bailey doesn’t like car rides, nor does he like the vet (does any cat?), so the fur was definitely flying…his little legs kept splaying all over the place as we tried to stuff him in his cage. At one point, I just started laughing hysterically, much to Brian’s annoyance. It was a pretty funny sight!
We finally got Bailey settled into his cage, and although he was yowling very loudly, we got to the vet’s office without further incident. I put Bailey on the scale, and learned that he’s lost more weight than I’d thought: in April 2003, he was 11.7 pounds, and last night he weighed only 7.4 pounds. Which means he’s lost around 60% of his total body weight. Not good.
The vet examined him as I described his symptoms. She immediately thought it might be diabetes, because I’d noticed he was drinking slightly more water than normal. So she took a glucose sample, and it came back normal, which was a relief. His temperature was normal, his heart rate was a little elevated, but probably due to his vet anxiety, but she commented that his fur seemed dull and a little flaky. She also remarked that he was moderately dehydrated, so she gave him some IV fluids. She took some more blood and a urine sample (and I have no idea how she did that) and sent us home.
This morning, she called and said that everything looked normal from the blood test, except his kidney function was elevated. She was still waiting on the results for the thyroid panel, though, and thought that it could be hyperthyroidism. We won’t know that until later. Then she recommended that we leave him there at the vet’s office for the entire weekend for IV fluid therapy, which costs $400. At which point I nearly fainted.
I said, “Well, after that, then what?”
She said that they’d do an x-ray to rule out any obstructions or other problems. She seemed to think that the kidney issue was indicative of some other problem, and not necessarily a kidney problem itself, because she mentioned that his urine was still very concentrated (whatever that means) and that it was a good thing.
So instead, I told her we’d bring him in again tonight for the x-rays, to look for the problem right away. As much as I love this cat, I just can’t see blowing $400 on IV therapy for the weekend and then spending $150 for the x-rays on top of it. Why not just get the x-rays out of the way first?
I have no idea what to think now. I’ve been doing research all day here, trying to figure out the problem. Unfortunately, many health problems share the same symptoms: lethargy, increased thirst, moodiness, vomiting (which he’s been doing intermittently for months), depression.
The two issues that keep coming up in my research are chronic renal failure and hyperthyroidism. However, the chronic renal failure stuff indicates that most cats lose their appetite…which is not the case with Bailey! He has remained interested in food, and especially his treats, so no problems there.
Now I am completely stressed. I thought that I’d be spending this weekend doing some final preparation for the DC-1 exam, and maybe some Christmas decorating, but it seems that I now have other obligations.
Bailey is our first cat. We adopted him from a rescue just a few months after we got married. He is really the best cat I’ve ever had, and I’ve had many in my life. He’s a real lap cat who loves all and any kinds of human interaction. In fact, many times it’s almost as if he WERE human. He sits on the empty chair next to us at dinner every night—not begging for food, just to keep us company. He sits on the bathroom vanity every morning while I shower and get ready for work. He sleeps with us every night. He lays on my lap as I work on the computer at home. Sometimes, if he’s feeling really affectionate, he grooms me…he licks my hair and nits it with his teeth. He just wants to be around us all the time. If something is seriously wrong with him, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, and I just don’t even want to think about it right now.
Thanksgiving was good, by the way. The food turned out fine and everyone enjoyed themselves.
First of all, this coming Monday, I am taking a very difficult exam in order to get credentials for my job. I have been studying for this exam for months, and though I know deep down that I’m pretty well-prepared, I am still a nervous wreck. I hate tests.
Then, last night I took my older cat, Bailey, to the vet. He’s been acting weirdly for the past several months, and I figured he should be checked out. He’s lost weight, seems listless, and no longer plays with his brother (our other cat Sebastian) anymore. He just kind of mopes around and has no energy.
Trying to get this cat into his carrier to go anywhere is an ordeal. It took Brian and I about ten minutes, working together, to secure Bailey in his little crate. Bailey doesn’t like car rides, nor does he like the vet (does any cat?), so the fur was definitely flying…his little legs kept splaying all over the place as we tried to stuff him in his cage. At one point, I just started laughing hysterically, much to Brian’s annoyance. It was a pretty funny sight!
We finally got Bailey settled into his cage, and although he was yowling very loudly, we got to the vet’s office without further incident. I put Bailey on the scale, and learned that he’s lost more weight than I’d thought: in April 2003, he was 11.7 pounds, and last night he weighed only 7.4 pounds. Which means he’s lost around 60% of his total body weight. Not good.
The vet examined him as I described his symptoms. She immediately thought it might be diabetes, because I’d noticed he was drinking slightly more water than normal. So she took a glucose sample, and it came back normal, which was a relief. His temperature was normal, his heart rate was a little elevated, but probably due to his vet anxiety, but she commented that his fur seemed dull and a little flaky. She also remarked that he was moderately dehydrated, so she gave him some IV fluids. She took some more blood and a urine sample (and I have no idea how she did that) and sent us home.
This morning, she called and said that everything looked normal from the blood test, except his kidney function was elevated. She was still waiting on the results for the thyroid panel, though, and thought that it could be hyperthyroidism. We won’t know that until later. Then she recommended that we leave him there at the vet’s office for the entire weekend for IV fluid therapy, which costs $400. At which point I nearly fainted.
I said, “Well, after that, then what?”
She said that they’d do an x-ray to rule out any obstructions or other problems. She seemed to think that the kidney issue was indicative of some other problem, and not necessarily a kidney problem itself, because she mentioned that his urine was still very concentrated (whatever that means) and that it was a good thing.
So instead, I told her we’d bring him in again tonight for the x-rays, to look for the problem right away. As much as I love this cat, I just can’t see blowing $400 on IV therapy for the weekend and then spending $150 for the x-rays on top of it. Why not just get the x-rays out of the way first?
I have no idea what to think now. I’ve been doing research all day here, trying to figure out the problem. Unfortunately, many health problems share the same symptoms: lethargy, increased thirst, moodiness, vomiting (which he’s been doing intermittently for months), depression.
The two issues that keep coming up in my research are chronic renal failure and hyperthyroidism. However, the chronic renal failure stuff indicates that most cats lose their appetite…which is not the case with Bailey! He has remained interested in food, and especially his treats, so no problems there.
Now I am completely stressed. I thought that I’d be spending this weekend doing some final preparation for the DC-1 exam, and maybe some Christmas decorating, but it seems that I now have other obligations.
Bailey is our first cat. We adopted him from a rescue just a few months after we got married. He is really the best cat I’ve ever had, and I’ve had many in my life. He’s a real lap cat who loves all and any kinds of human interaction. In fact, many times it’s almost as if he WERE human. He sits on the empty chair next to us at dinner every night—not begging for food, just to keep us company. He sits on the bathroom vanity every morning while I shower and get ready for work. He sleeps with us every night. He lays on my lap as I work on the computer at home. Sometimes, if he’s feeling really affectionate, he grooms me…he licks my hair and nits it with his teeth. He just wants to be around us all the time. If something is seriously wrong with him, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, and I just don’t even want to think about it right now.
Thanksgiving was good, by the way. The food turned out fine and everyone enjoyed themselves.
Posted by Lori at 12/02/2005 03:48:00 PM
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Wednesday, November 16, 2005
I usually don't talk much about local, national, or international news or issues here, but I am compelled to write about the double homicide that occurred this past Sunday morning in a quiet suburb of Lancaster, PA -- which is just a little over 30 minutes' drive from my house. I have been thinking about it almost every other minute since it happened.
I was en route to the supermarket on Sunday afternoon when an Amber Alert interrupted the broadcast of the radio station I was listening to in the car. A 14 year-old was reported abducted from her home following the murder of her parents. The Amber Alert did not give any other details at the time, except for the suspect's vehicle description and license number. I remember being a little shocked about it...the area where this all happened is almost bucolic, right in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country.
Apparently, this 14 year-old (Kara Borden) was secretly seeing 18 year-old David Ludwig, despite her parents' disapproval. Both kids hailed from very Christian families, and both were home-schooled. It appears that they had a physical relationship. From the accounts I've been following online, it appears that she told her parents that she was sleeping over a girlfriend's house on Saturday night, but was actually with him instead.
He dropped her off at her home on Sunday morning at 6 a.m. and left. Then her parents found out she was truly with David, not her girlfriend, so they called him and told him to come back to the house to discuss their relationship. Sometime between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m., David Ludwig shot Mr. and Mrs. Borden each once in the head, grabbed Kara, and took off.
Was it premeditated? I don't know. From his Xanga blog, it appears he was an avid deer hunter. But why would he have brought a firearm into the home of his secret girlfriend's parents?
Did she participate in the killings, or is she a victim of the situation? Who knows. I was reading her Xanga blog yesterday (it has since been shut down) and it appears she was like any other girl in her early teens. From her posts, it seemed that she loved her family, though she alluded to some troubles she'd been going through several times. She also mentioned she'd been grounded once or twice.
I just wish I could figure out what was going through that kid's head when he made the decision to kill her parents. The first thing that popped into my mind upon hearing the news was that this was like a Romeo/Juliet thing, except instead of suicide, Romeo killed the Capulets (I know I'm weird).
Then I started thinking that maybe she is/was pregnant with his child. There was a conversation posted in her MySpace blog between her and an older (18) girlfriend that makes me think something deeper than just a covert relationship was going on between Kara and David.
Of course, all this led me to reminisce about my own teenage years. I myself was having sex at age 14 -- but my boyfriend was also 14, not 18. I don't regret anything I've done, but it strikes me that I could've potentially found myself in the same situation. I used to sneak some of my boyfriends into my bedroom in the middle of the night. I used to lie about my age so that I could talk to older guys. To me, this is all just typical teenage behavior.
Is it realistic to expect teenagers to abstain from sex? I don't think so, though I realize many people feel differently about it. If Kara felt that she didn't have to hide this relationship from her parents, would this tragedy still have happened? I'm not sure. From all accounts, David Ludwig has been painted as a nice, polite, normal 18 year-old kid. What switch was flipped inside his head to cause him to do this?
Maybe we'll never know.
So tragic.
Labels: bad news, deep thoughts, local news, scary, weird
Posted by Lori at 11/16/2005 03:25:00 PM
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