I feel like I'm writing in someone else's diary. I feel like it's on loan. It doesn't quite feel like my own yet.

I've been forced to immigrate from open-book, digs I had no intention of giving up, ever. But as all or most of you know, it appears to be irreparably damaged. Or at least, I'm too impatient to wait for tech support to get back to me. Or at least, I'm too much of a snob to write on a templated diary for a while.

In any case, I'm here. Evolver. The word doesn't quite sound like me -- not that open-book, chicabotica, or fake-plastic were ever intrinsically me, either. Personal evolution is, to be sure, my mantra, but if they hadn't been taken I think I'd be somewhat better suited for:
evolving - in a process of personal evolution; not having reached an end, nor fixed on ever reaching an end
evolve - a kind-hearted command: we can all do better, we should view change positively
evolution - the process of personal expansion itself, almost a statement of purpose

But for some reason, evolver seems to bring with it a weight I wasn't quite prepared to carry. It seems to proclaim that I am one who purposefully evolves, over and above one who tries to; it seems almost self-gratifying, though I know that's not a bad thing to be (an "evolver"; not self-gratifying). Oh well: I don't plan on moving again. I might as well take it as a challenge worth aspiring to.

Today is my 21st birthday, which is I guess supposed to be a big one, as I'm now free to do everything legal in this country short of running for federal office. I made a big deal out of turning 20 last year, but by now it's both anticlimactic and pointless: 1) for all intents and purposes, I've been 21 since Lani turned 21; 2) it's just an arbitrary day, and you have to put a lot of stock in the human concept of time and tradition to call it "my day."

But everyone who wished me a happy birthday and sent cards is endlessly sweet, and I thank you. Also, thank you to Lani and Josh, who were with me when I bought my first legal alcoholic beverage (raspberry margarita, for the record) and gave me an engraved shot glass, which, though this may make me appear an alcoholic, is one of the sweetest gifts I've ever received.

The rest of my day was, you know, my standard pre-Wilcox ("Where there's a Wil, there's a cox!") Thursday. I woke up at 7 (after finishing this diary at 3:30), showered and everything, and jumped in the car. In typical Lauren fashion, I skipped my first class to drive all the way to Akron and directly back to purchase a birth certificate. This is what I do.

The drive was wonderful. Lots of scream singing -- the variety I won't even allow myself in front of Lani and Josh -- to Howie Day, Jason Falkner, Counting Crows, and two mixed cds. And aided by Jason's amazing insights -- "So why am I down when there is life all around?" -- the scenery was just breathtaking. And no one cut me off or anything. So that was positive.

And then walking around downtown Akron for a little while on the way to the Births & Deaths Records office was really cool -- you know, downtown Akron gets a pretty bad rap, but everyone was amazingly friendly. Nearly every person I passed on the street said hello to me. It was just cool. I know there might be one or two people in that city who might contemplate doing me some sort of harm, and I still stand by my ethic of being annoyed by nearly all people, but I'm just not ever going to be afraid of any person or situation again, and the least I can do is be as friendly as everyone I ran into today was.

I arrived back on campus two minutes before my zoology class. How's that for timing? So it was all baby turtles and mealworm respiration, and then Wilcoxing (Andrew Andervander, soooo funny), and then rushed Izzy's disappointment, and finally Sex & Power, which just brought the whole day down for me. We watched this documentary on pornography, and in discussion afterward a good 80% of the class reacted Puritanically, one or two people upheld all forms of pornography on the basis of "There's a market for it, so it might as well be legal!" completely drowning out what the handful of rational centrists had to say.

Personally, I find most pornography abhorrent, and it offends me as a person and as a feminist. The documentary seriously unsettled me. Nevertheless, it is unquestionably in keeping with free speech. The idea that porn is a national security issue or an abuse of our "freedom from violence" is ludicrous. But there is a line that must be drawn, and any pornography that is violent, non-consensual, and in any way harmful to the participants should be banned. Under this heading I would put "snuff" porn, rape (fictionalized or real), bestiality (no such thing as a consenting goat) and child porn. While it disturbs me, I wouldn't ban consensual violent porn... oh, that's such a grey area... once you start committing or depicting serious violent crimes, though, it's crossed the line again. Obviously there should be some form of regulation, but I think the "reasonable person" standard is ridiculous: anyone who finds porn unsuitable for their community is free just to avoid it. I suppose I'm pretty liberal on the porn issue, but I don't think the market for violent porn needs to be catered to; violence is violence, and a crime is a crime.

So that was frustrating, but than Josh and Lani swept me away to dinner and drinking, and all has been well since.

So... to sum up... new digs... I'm 21... and, uhhhmm... I had a day.

You know, I think this diary needs a theme song. How about something, say, to the tune of "I'm a Believer":
Ooooh, I'm an evolver, I couldn't paedomorphosize if I tried!

Hahahaha... I'm open to suggestions.