Thursday, February 28, 2013

This is about as much as I can really force myself to say about fiber.

Hello, world.

I was told to write about Fiber One today. So, for inspiration, I went to the kitchen and got myself a Fiber One chocolate chip cookie brownie. It's amazing how the act of eating one small cookie brownie can spark a creative flow of thinking. Sometimes you really just have to experience what you're about to write about. 

So anyway, one thing I've learned is that Fiber One takes things that are delicious and makes them not delicious anymore. But hey, what the hell was I expecting? A cookie just simply cannot be both delicious and 90 calories. The two are mutually exclusive events and, therefore, cannot occur at the same time. You can't be happy and sad at the same time. Unless of course, you're on your period. But that's beside the point.  As far as food goes, low calorie food is not delicious. 

Which brings up the question, "then why the hell did you just eat it?" 

Uh, because my awesome friend, Laura asked me to write something meaningful on Fiber One, and I wanted to experience it firsthand so that I could write something a little more than, "fiber makes you poop."

So what is the purpose of Fiber One anyway? It's because as Americans, it's much easier for us to eat slightly less unhealthy food that is disguised as delicious healthy food as means of getting nutrients. Fiber One is there so that we don't have to force ourselves to eat actually delicious healthy food, like fruit. Fiber One is there so that instead of having to go through all of the freaking effort to wash tupperware that had cantaloupe in it, we can just throw away a wrapper. The more I write, actually, the more I'm developing kind of a personal vendetta against Fiber One. That and the fact that I just read the wrapper that says "11JAN2013" on it, so I'm totally going to die. That is a terribly pathetic way to go, actually. "Here lies Emily. She died because she was too lazy to go get an apple." Honestly though, after reading through these ingredients, I can't really see anything that hasn't been sitting on my kitchen counter for years, so I think I'll be alright. I mean, does "bleached wheat flour" ever actually go bad? My guess is no. 

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

John f***ing Denver, people

Dear World,

I have reactivated my twitter. Even though I don't understand it in the slightest, it's what all the cool kids are doing these days, and since I like keeping in touch with the world, I may as well do it.

In other news, I walked five miles today. I only had the intention of walking two, then I liked those two miles so much I decided to walk them again. Then at the end of the fourth mile, I decided I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, so that was the fifth mile. The grilled cheese was well worth the extremely sore feet.

Speaking of walking, I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to go about this whole "growing up" business, and was talking to my friend, when all of a sudden I was like, "OMGISHOULDWALKACROSSTHEUSA." Just like that. When I get really excited, space bars know to take a step back from me. Really, my inner Forrest Gump was just clawing its way out of me. So I took a mental note to research that later, and went to bed. The next morning, I became really serious about the idea, and googled it and everything.

On a side note, spell check needs to get its shit together, because "google" has definitely been a verb for a couple of years now. Seriously, I can say "google" with a straight face, that's how mainstream and accepted it has become.

So anyway, back to things. I googled it, and apparently I'm not the first one who has had this idea, and I certainly wouldn't be the first person to undertake and complete it successfully either. Once I read the blogs of many people who have done it, and about the thousands of dollars, and the bears and snakes, and the sleeping alone, and the worrying about creepy people, the thrill kind of wore off, honestly. Actually, it's the bears and snakes and the thousands of dollars that did it more than anything. Maybe that's just not for me right now. But you know what? I should definitely do something adventurous, and I stumbled upon this thing called the "American Discovery Trail," which is basically a network of trails that goes across the USA. I found one that goes across Maryland, and I thought that I should perhaps try that. Or maybe I should bike it instead. Who knows, honestly. If anyone is dying to bike across Maryland with me, you should let me know. If anyone also knows where to get a bike, you should let me know about that too.

So anyway, in other news, I have totally come to a sad realisation. And by sad realisation, I mean I have come to terms with a part of myself. Inside of me, there is totally a redneck that I haven't let out. Honestly, I have no clue if I'm just having an early life crisis or what, but there is a part of me that wants to go sit on a mountain in West Virginia until I figure everything out. I bought a John Denver song and a poster of America yesterday. That's about all I feel like saying about that, I just needed to validate the title of this post.

Finally, I'll end with this. I really kind of wish I had a twin. First, because I can't think of anything the world needs more than someone who looks exactly like me. Lol jk. Twins are lucky. They have their own language and everything. They know each others thoughts. I think that's pretty cool. But enough about that, because this sleepytime tea is really living up to its name and I'm trying to get into the Walking Dead before I konk out.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Jesus is totally going to ruin my next birthday party, I know it

I'm feeling pretty random today. Therefore, I guess random is the route of action for this blog today.

Random thought number one.

Pretty sure one of the most embarrassing things to do is to have a song playing and go to belt something out, and you either sing the wrong thing or you come in at the wrong time at the top of your lungs. Before you ask in yourself in your head, this hasn't happened to me recently. I was just listening to my iPod and I was like "wow, that would be embarrassing if I were to play this song in front of people and sing it and come in at the wrong time." Don't ask me why I think about shit like that, because I have absolutely no clue. Of course, honestly, I always have those thoughts. I could be at a birthday party and be the only one there thinking, "wow, how much would it suck if the rapture happened right now?" I have never gone to a birthday party and thought about that either, but I guess I will now have that thought constantly in my head if I do end up ever going to a birthday party. Actually, that would be the worst day ever for me if the rapture happened during my birthday party. It's YOUR day and all of a sudden half of your friends vanish. Actually, knowing my friends, they would all still be there. Actually, I guess a lot of people would still be here, because I guarantee Jesus is pissed at all of us for not sharing and liking all of those facebook pictures.

Random thought number two.

So, of course, to absolutely NO surprise to anyone reading this blog or even anyone who talks to me in real life (all five of you), I have, of course, been going through this "coming of age" process. I woke up one morning, realised that I am 20 years old, then BAM. All of a sudden, I'm restless, I want my freaking life to get started already, I want to figure out what kind of person I am, and how I'm going to live my life and stuff. Also, since everyone around me is getting married, I really looked into this. I truly wonder why people get married. Now, there is the religious reason, and it's so that you can make a family, and help each other get into heaven sort of deal, but if you're not a particularly religious person, why would you still want to get married? How is getting married different than being in a steady long term relationship? The divorce rate is 50%, so it's not like getting married necessarily keeps you together forever, and sometimes, it really isn't more of a commitment than just being in a serious relationship. 

So I did what I always do, and I googled this. Aside from religious reasons, we feel there is a sense of accomplishment in being married. From the time we're little, we're basically told that one day we will get married and have kids too, and once you do, you basically unlock a life achievement. Also, and I thought this was funny, we have this deep seeded desire to possess things, and if you're legally married, it's kind of like the other person is yours. Even if your husband is sleeping around, he's still yours. I mean, you have papers and everything. 

Random thought number three.

I'm basically done boycotting Chik-fil-A. It's one of those things that everyone really cared about for about a week, but when you think about it, where else are you going to find Chik-fil-A sauce? Nowhere. That's where. It may be bigotry, but it is delicious bigotry, and being a heartless American, I'm okay with that. 

Monday, February 25, 2013

Sorry this one isn't funny.

I haven't written in here for a couple of days, seeing as I decided instead to have a nice, quiet weekend instead. It was nice.

Update: I officially have Junioritis. Yes, that is a term. And it's not just something that I made up my junior year of high school because I wanted to feel special like all of the seniors who had some common disease in common, but because Junioritis actually exists, I promise you. 

I first noticed this phenomenon the spring before my senior year of high school. I had done really well in high school thus far, just kind of chillin' out, being an underclassman, coming into my teenage years, you know, the likes, then BAM. All of a sudden, I find that I don't give a single crap about school anymore. Thinking about it, Junior year is kind of like a Thursday night. You kind of still have homework and stuff to do, and things to worry about, but inside your head, there's a part of you that just doesn't care, because tomorrow is Friday, and it'll all sort itself out. That's kind of like Junior year. Except instead of looking forward to a big, fun weekend, you get to look forward to being serious about whatever comes after your weekend, whatever comes next for you. 

So anyway, I have rediscovered this uncanny feeling, and have diagnosed myself yet again, with Junioritis. Except it's a lot less fun this time, because instead of doing insignificant high school work, I'm doing insignificant college work. The only difference is that there is substantially more insignificant work that you can't get away with not doing in college. The next big difference is that when in high school, you look forward to college. In college, you look forward to real life. It's a bit daunting. Honestly though, I've reached a dangerous point in my academic career. 

It's kind of that point where you realise just how long you've been in school. Seriously. I've been in school from the time I was about five years old. That's a long time to spend in a classroom. The past fifteen years of my life have revolved around school, around books, around tests, around teachers. Ridiculous. Now, I know that college is a wonderful opportunity that not everyone gets. I know that these years are being spent in this institution of higher learning just to obtain a little piece of paper that is seemingly very important in a job market. I am well aware of the sacrifices that I have to make to ensure a better future. That's why I'm still here, duh.

In short, I left this post for a while to go eat dinner, but in the meantime, I have googled "tired of college" and have never felt this in touch with the internet community before. So I know it's a real thing, which I should have known, since there's a really low percentage of students who actually end up with degrees after four years. In the meantime, I guess I'll just do it. I only have 11 weeks left, which feels like an eternity, but I guess it'll get here. 

Friday, February 22, 2013

The product of a lazy Friday morning.

So I'm home, and super happy for being in a land where I can walk around and just hear the dead leaves crunching below my feet and the birds chirping. Seriously, I went for a 2.5 hour walk this morning; 20 minutes of my walk involved just standing on a bridge listening to the creek below me. It was just so quiet. And I loved every minute of the silence. Actually, I would have stayed out there all day if I could, but it's freezing and I like the ability to feel my legs.

Sometimes, you really just need to get out and be by yourself out in the open to feel some sort of inner peace and know that everything is gonna work out for you in the end. I am totally a child of the outdoors. But enough about that, because I promised you all shower recliners.

Yes, that's right. Shower recliners. I came up with this idea on Wednesday, which was literally the busiest day I've ever experienced. I had class from 9 am-3:30 pm (with a 30 minute break for lunch), then had to go out for a walk, then went to a flute lesson, then finally went to go get dinner. And that's when it happened. I sat down. But I didn't just sit down anywhere; I sat down on what was the most comfortable booth I had sat in all day. Then immediately, my brain thought of showers for some weird reason. Probably because my favourite place in the world is the shower. I'm totally serious. I would vacation in my shower if I could. I'm quite a shower connoisseur  as well. There has to be the right amount of shower pressure first and foremost. Then the heat of the water must be right. After that come the little luxuries, like how many shower heads there are (like if you have a shower head and then a little hand hose type thing), and what the shower set up is. I can't stand the square shaped showers. And in addition to that, I prefer the attached bath tub, for reasons I do not understand. Maybe it's because I like the added security it gives my feet. Like, if a gun man were to break into my bathroom, at least he would shoot my feet.

Anyways, back to recliners. Last year, I was in a handicap suite in the dorm housing. I have no clue why, but I was pretty awesome. I was on the first floor, meaning I never had to wait for the stupid elevator. If I ever forgot anything, it literally took me about 30 seconds to walk back in and out again. I had a slightly bigger room, with a door that shut very nicely, and a bigger bathroom too. I wasn't a huge fan of the shower, but it wasn't the worst thing I've ever been in. It was kind of a well almost. Like, the floor slanted down into the shower, so you could put a wheelchair in there I guess. And there was one of those fold down chairs you can sit on. So I was thinking, well those are pretty awesome, because at the end of the day, I guess it would be pretty nice to sit down and take a shower, but how much better would it be if it were a recliner???

I know what you're thinking, wouldn't it get wet? Well, it probably would, since it is a recliner in a shower. You could make it out of waterproof stuff, and there don't have to be cushions inside of it, it could be like a water bed recliner. I would love something big and comfy to sit in while I'm enjoying my favourite place in the world. I'm actually tired of writing and I want a shower.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Historical accuracy and social awkwardness at their finest

To begin on a happy note today, has anyone else ever had those days where your social skills are just turned off? A day where your brain does shit, and you're like "What the freaking hell, brain? Why would you do that?" Like, you just blatantly interrupt people while they're talking without even thinking, and when you walk into your building, see that they're working on the elevator, and proceed to press the freaking button. Like, why, brain? Why? You're supposed to be the product of years of evolutionary experimentation. I thought I had this advanced frontal cortex for a reason. Apparently not.

So ordinarily, as would be the case with anyone with any kind of social anxiety, I would expect myself to declare myself a danger to society for the day, lock myself in  my room, and just read a book for the rest of the day. Literature cannot hurt me, and a book would totally not judge me, which is sad, because we constantly have to be told not to judge the books by their covers, when they do nothing except give us knowledge and unconditional love. However, I've decided that I have too many cool ideas to feel down about the social incompetence of my brain, and have decided that I will share them with the world today.

I'll start with the least fun of the two.

First, I have been thinking about history and stuff lately, for reasons completely unknown to me. Like, I'll see a tree, and think to myself about what that tree looked like 400 years ago. It was probably just surrounded by other trees, because this is Maryland, and I'm pretty sure it was just one big forest before the white man got his hands on it, but whatever. Or also, when I'm just standing around, I can't help but think to myself just how many humans have stood on this exact spot before. Maybe I am standing on the exact space that good old Abe Lincoln stood on at some point. I think of how many people have stood around on the sidewalk waiting to cross York Road.

Sometimes when I go into historical buildings, I think it's cooler, because I know famous dead people have been in there. When I was but a wee lassie (and by "wee lassie," I mean like, 10), my dad took me into the house where Lincoln died. He was going to take me into the theatre where he was shot, but that whole day was just "Take your Child to Work Day" gone completely wrong and involved a lot of vomit and inconvenient bus schedules. So we went into the house across from the theatre, and I stood there and stared at the bed where one of the most influential men in all of history took his last breaths. I stood at the end of the bed that somewhere deep down, probably still had Lincoln's dried blood on it. I imagined his huge legs dangling off of the side of the bed, and people surrounding him, full of unimaginable sorrow and fear. I imagine him with a top hat too, even though I shouldn't, because he was definitely shot in the head, and I'm pretty sure they would have taken it off of him. But anyway, my point is that it's too easy to think that history is just a collection of stories, because we are a group of people who has to see things to believe them. When we go to museums, we know that these artifacts and stuff actually existed, but in our brains somewhere, we feel like it's just some giant set up that people built to go along with their stories. But that's totally not true. And once we get past that and we think about how these things actually happened, history is one of the most fascinating things there is.

Whoa, did not mean for that paragraph to happen, but that's quite alright. I'll get back to where I was actually going with this. As I was thinking, about history and stuff, I was thinking how easy it would be to fuck around with the next generation. Seriously, what is actually stopping me from writing up some "sacred religious text," carving it in stone, and burying it in my backyard? Actually, I'll tell you what is, the fact that I'd rather not be an asshole to future human beings. And because I feel totally ashamed at the fact that I just read this stuff that Socrates said about seeking truth and wisdom, and I'm sitting here talking about being the biggest troll in history. Or I could totally take a huge rock, carve something that looks like aliens wrote it, and bury that instead. I could cut open glow sticks and put the glow juice all over the rock too. I guess this would be better, kind of to remind future generations that aliens probably do exist somewhere, and so I wouldn't be as much of an asshole as much as I would simply be keeping them on their toes.

Speaking of keeping you on your toes, this is a pretty long post already, so I think the shower recliners will have to wait until tomorrow, unfortunately.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Thank you, Socrates

If there's anything I have learned very recently, it's that nothing makes you feel more naive and unwise than your 20th birthday. The world expects you to be an adult, and you're stuck in a teenage mindset. You're kind of like, what do you mean I'm an adult? If I can't buy beer, than surely, I am not an adult. Adulthood can wait until I have a bottle of wine to deal with it all. 

Even more recently too, I have had a philosophy class. Now, I haven't gotten the chance yet to be very wise, since the professor has cancelled class more than half of the time. This guy even went to the trouble of emailing us all to tell us there was no class Friday, and I'm all like, I know. You know how I know? Because on my schedule, it says that I have this class on Monday and Wednesday... So yeah. However, today was the first day we've had class in about two weeks, and for once, has been a class that I really took a lot more out of than I should. We read "Apology" by Plato, which was the speech that Socrates allegedly gave in his defense at his trial.

Now, if there's a better person to listen to at this point in my life, it's Socrates. This guy is all about the wisdom. This guy is also about the whole soul searching concept, which is a pretty good thing to be worried about at this point in my life. I'm 20 now, so naturally, all of a sudden, I find myself asking myself what I want out of life. What do I want to do? Who do I want to surround myself with? What are the morals that I hold dear and true? What do I think is right and wrong? When the hell am I going to get this show on the road and go out and do shit? As you can see, it's quite a trying time. Even more trying is to surround myself with people who have all of that figured out. Then I realise that I'm just being jealous and impatient with life, and that my time for everything will come. 

Now, if there's one thing I've always known, it's that I know absolutely nothing. Sometimes, honestly, I get in these mindsets where I really feel as though I'm figuring everything out, and everything's coming easily to me, then life knocks me on my butt. Maybe that's why that happens though. Maybe we need to be reminded that we know nothing sometimes. Maybe I need to be reminded that I still have a long way to go, so that I get up and keep going. One of Socrates' points he brings up at his trial is to say that without him being the "annoying fly that he is," that the state would just waste away. There would be no incentive for the state to get together and advance, because when you become comfortable in your state of being, you almost waste away. 

It's like people who take the elevator to go to the second floor. Yeah, you've made your life a little bit easier, but how does taking the easy way out make you a better person? I talk to people who have had to overcome adversities in their lives, and I see how much stronger it has made them. I have been very fortunate to not have suffered many adversities, but when life does get us down, we cannot let it get the best of us, because these moments are here to make us stronger and better people. 

It's just as applicable to my life in other ways too. My goal in life is to be happy and at the end of my life, know that I led a happy, fulfilling life. We do only live once. There is no escaping the reality that we will die. All we can do is take as much out of life as we can, not let our fears of what could happen hold us back, and basically be an open book, taking notes as we go along and gain experiences. 

I guess the best thing that Socrates has told me today, is that it's foolish to fear the unknown. He mentions at his trial that there is no point in worrying about death because he doesn't know anything about it. According to my philosophy professor, "it's like saying that a restaurant is bad before you even go there." This is a useful statement in all aspects of life too. Why should I fear the future? It hasn't happened yet. My future could be really fucking awesome. I mean, yeah, it could be really bad too, but honestly, if I don't know, then why should I decide to only dwell on the bad? Maybe I should be excited, since there is a chance that everything will be just fine and dandy. That would be a much more productive use of my time, right? As long as I just keep on going, and continue to strive toward being a better person, sticking to my guns when necessary and not letting things get me done, then my life will work out just fine. And I mean that. 

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

I promise, dogs and Ethiopian children have nothing to do with each other

I've become a victim of one of life's biggest frustrations. I was laying in bed, ready to drift off to sleep, and BAM, my head is filled with great ideas. I would tell the world what they are, but I CAN'T REMEMBER ANY OF THEM. They floated out of my head while I was asleep and they are never returning. I can only hope that one day, after I die, I am taken to another dimension where I will be reunited with all of my lost ideas.

I have a lot of random thoughts today.

1. I have discovered yet another reason why I need a dog. I drop a lot of food on the floor on accident, only when I do it here in my apartment, I actually have to clean it up. Then I'm stuck with a personal dilemma of whether or not I throw it away, because on one hand, there are starving children in Ethiopia, but on the other hand, it's not as though I really have all the time in the world to dance around with the vacuum cleaner. I'm a college student, not a 1950's housewife. So a dog may actually help me to stay clean, since it would always be picking up after me.

2. College has helped me discover yet another thing about the world. People my age apparently have no regard or respect for ketchup. How disappointing too, because ketchup is the most classic of all the condiments. It has a winning personality that just goes with everything. It is versatile, and is very compatible with everything. One would think that these are good enough reasons to respect ketchup, but apparently not. Going for a walk around campus, I can find at least three places where I have almost walked into spilled ketchup. This pisses me off for a couple of reasons.

     One: There are starving children in Ethiopia who don't have ketchup. They also don't have fries to put it on, but that's just one of many, many problems that Ethiopia has.

     Two: I would rather not walk around tracking red stuff everywhere. Ketchup does not take well to white shirts, and it probably also does not take well to white carpet. Also, I'd like to not have people think that I just came from a murder scene. Seriously, what if somebody was murdered the same day that I happen to walk through a giant pile of ketchup? That's inconvenience at its very best. I'm sure the police totally know the difference between ketchup and blood, but I would not be given back any time that I was judged up and down by other people.

3. Why don't we have a big chute that goes directly to Ethiopia? I know this has been on EVERYONE'S mind at some point in their life. Your mom takes your plate, calls you a spoiled little brat for wasting half of your food, begins the conversation about starving children, and you come up with the whole "giant trash chute" idea. I know everyone's done it at some point. If we have so many leftovers, why don't we just give them all to the starving children? Well, now that I'm older and wiser, I can say that this is a terrible idea.

     One: There are starving children everywhere. If this big trash chute is built, who says that the starving      children in Ethiopia are any better than the starving children in Moldova? Or Baltimore? We cannot build a network of "leftover food" chutes across the world. Or maybe we can. Maybe this idea is what will get me my wikipedia page one day. "Emily Day: She came up with the idea and design for a network of chutes that deliver unwanted leftover food directly to starving children." It's good, but I'll hold myself to a higher standard, since I can do better than "designer of a network of food chutes."

     Two: They're people, not vultures. No other human being deserves half of an old sandwich with a bite taken out of it. This probably should have been number one actually...

     Three: How else would we get children to eat their damn vegetables? America is fat, and we really need any cliche excuse we can get to force feed our children vegetables. I would not put myself above using guilt to do it. That's an emotional appeal, duh. We don't learn about that in English class for nothing.

So with that comes my next idea

4. I think instead of coming up with complex ideas for trash chutes, we should just go befriend a starving child and invite them over to dinner once a week. One day I'd like to think that I'll have enough money to do this, but then I do come back to reality and remember the liberal arts degree that I'm working towards. If anything though, I will be able to tell you where the concentration of starving children are and I will be able to make you a map for reference. Any little bit helps, right?

5. Another reason I need a dog. Because I obviously have enough time on my hands to think of all of this shit. Maybe I do need something to take over the rest of my free time.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The teletubbies: the real face of diversity. And douchebaggery.

For some weird reason unknown to me, I've wanted to write about the Teletubbies all day. Probably because I was watching tv last night, and that commercial came on where McDonald's talks about how much they value diversity but you see that every single employee is black. Last time I checked, if 100% of your workforce is of the same race, you are the exact opposite of diverse.

So this got me thinking about diversity, which led me to the Teletubbies. Now, looking back on it, that is the most fucked up show I've ever seen (sorry mom, but it is). But it is pretty diverse when you think about it. Just look at the characters.

Tinkie Winkie was obviously the most flaming big mutant, furry, robot, whatever those things were. I actually just checked. Wikipedia refers to them as a "mythological species," but I refuse to put them in the same category as unicorns. But anyway, he was purple, his antenna was an upside down triangle, and he had this big ass zebra bag that he carried around with him everywhere. If you're offended at this point, by the way, you can stop reading, because I don't care. There was nothing wrong with the fact that he was gay, but there's also no denying the fact that he was.

Dipsy looked as though he was severely economically disadvantaged. His face was really, really dirty. That, or they tried to make him the minority Teletubby, but they did a really bad job with the makeup and it ended up being really uneven. Of course, this was a British show, so they probably don't have much experience with tans. According to the Internet, they wanted to make him black and were just really bad at makeup.

Okay, Laa-Laa was obviously the special one. All the others have normal antenna shapes and hers is this weird squiggly line thing. Plus, I mean, her name really says it all.

And Po is an albino midget. Actually the Internet says she is Cantonese. So I guess never mind. Apparently she is just the one who cusses the others out in a foreign language when they piss her off.

Now the vacuum. This is where the discussion on diversity ends, and the sympathy for the vacuum begins. Seriously, the teletubbies all live together in this little Viking style house, built into a field, but hi-tech as shit, where they basically just party all day long. They eat all this custard, which has to be spiked with something, considering the fact that they are incoherent and the sun is a baby's face on fire. So guess what is poor vacuum does. That's right, it cleans up after these irresponsible jerks. They live in this little hi-tech frat house. They tickle the vacuum until it vomits custard everywhere and then they make it clean it up again. It's like some kind of fucked up act of hazing. Vacuum, you deserve better than that. Just leave them to clean up their own mess.

Now, I've ranted enough about the teletubbies, I guess it's time to delete my Internet history, so that the world doesn't think I'm on drugs.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

My own Wikipedia legacy

Alright, so this morning I've completely given up on sleep, since last night I had a dream that a cat was constantly biting my fingers as I tried to go to sleep, then I got up around 3 am and tossed and turned, then I finally got back to sleep and woke up now, so I think it's safe to say sleep is just not happening this morning. Thank you, cat. I bet my body actually just had this fear to see it again when I went back to sleep, so instead of dreaming, my subconscious was like, sleeping with one eye open to keep watch for the cat.

For once, I actually have no clue what to write about this morning. So I guess I will just have to start with one of those random thoughts that I have.

My life goal is to have my own Wikipedia page. 
I once edited Wikipedia. It felt empowering. I went to a Wikipedia page on corn, and changed the word "increased" to the word "decreased." I felt so bad. But it was like one of those instances that no one really cares about. It's like when you use limewire for the first time and you download one illegal song and you're like "hey guys... You'll never believe what I just did!" And everyone else is like "uh, yeah join the club." Or like when you have one glass of wine at a family meal at the age of 14 and you feel so bad because you're totally convinced that you were SO DRUNK. And then you go around talking about how much you love wine and everyone else is like, "Okay, cool, you want a cookie?"

Anyways, tangents aside, I'm kind of at a disadvantage here, because I kind of waited until the late 20th century to start existing. Seriously. Do you know how many people have lived before me, and how many legacies have been created? There can only be one Adele. There can only be one Abraham Lincoln. Unfortunately, there can be an obscene amount of untalented pop singers, but I have more respect for myself than to write a song about a day of the week. I mean, people these days have to get more and more creative to become memorable. Just look at Mumford & Sons. In the midst of a world of shitty pop music they were like "BAM. Folk music." They basically became famous overnight. Now you'll notice that you hear more folk music, but for some reason it doesn't have the same popularity as Mumford & Sons.*

*a disclaimer about Mumford & Sons: first of all, I am well aware of the fact that there is a lot of really good folk music out there. I listen to it. I have absolutely no clue why Mumford & Sons became more popular than some of the others. Now for the hipsters, who feel the need to hate on Mumford & Sons just because they are a popular band playing folk music, lighten up. They are a good band. You don't need to hate every single thing that is popular because you are superior to the masses.

Now, back to what I was saying. Kind of disadvantaged here. Every passing moment, i have bigger and bigger shoes to fill. However, all of those people had something in common. They took something that they loved and had a decent talent at, and they made something of themselves. I think that sometimes, that is all you need. There will be talented musicians, talented artists, talented writers, actors/actresses, political figured, etc, who will all, one day, earn their own Wikipedia page for perfecting their talents and never giving up. Unfortunately, there will also be a lot of assholes who also earn their own Wikipedia page for perfecting their talent of just being an asshole, like Hitler. And Kim Kardashian, who I guess isn't so much of an asshole as she is "useless, untalented, spoiled rotten whiny bitch." Whatever happens though, it's not like I need my legacy to be on a web page. There are Wikipedia pages for people who probably go unread anyway. Besides, half of the Wikipedia pages I read anyway are on fictional characters on tv shows.

Friday, February 15, 2013

I want ice cream

So this may be more of a serious one, since I kind of have to make up for the offensive post yesterday.

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of my sadness (yes, yesterday was pretty rough), I experienced something all of a sudden that I hadn't in a long, long time. I finally felt like myself. My anxiety completely melted away for a while. I felt such a wave of relief, like things are finally starting to look up. 

So I just changed my bacon calendar, and on this day it says:

"Of all the lessons in life that I've learned the hard way, the ones involving frontal nudity and hot bacon grease seem to be the most enduring." -Anonymous

First of all, if I said something like that, I would let the world know my name, because that is a nugget of wisdom if I ever saw one. 

Actually, I had another crazy dream last night, so I guess I'll talk about that. Some irrelevant stuff happened, as it does in all dreams, but the significant part began when I went on a trip. I don't know how I ended up on this trip, but when I turned to my handy dandy internet to interpret everything, it made a lot of sense to my waking life. 

It started on a bus. And I just remember trying to sleep on the bus. Then I woke up and we were driving through the desert for some strange reason. Then somehow we ended up in Colorado, and we were entering mountains, and we were driving up the mountains. I remember amusement park rides somewhere in there too, but the most vivid part was when we were driving up this very winding curvy road, and then finally we got to the top and there was a grocery store so I was like "OMG I NEED ICE CREAM." So I was searching this store for my ice cream (specifically for Ben and Jerry's, because that stuff ROCKS) and I remember that I found some, but for some reason it wasn't the right kind, and so I had to go back and search again and I had some trouble finding it, but I think I did eventually find some. This is when I drifted back into awake land. 

So apparently, sleeping denotes peace of mind. It may also symbolise new beginnings and renewal, which makes sense, given my state of mind yesterday. A desert symbolises loss and misfortune. Mountains symbolise major obstacles and challenges to overcome. The road was long and windy, but like I said, we did eventually make it to the top, which symbolises that I have achieved and realised my goals. I have recognised my full potential. Climbing a mountain signifies my determination and ambition, even if the road gets really windy and curvy and I am scared that I'm going to fall off the mountain. Apparently ice cream is good luck. It signifies pleasure and satisfaction in love and with life. 

This is the first time that a dream has ever made sense like this before. 

Over the past four weeks, I've begun to do a lot of soul searching, thinking about everything that happened, and what I want. I realise that time has done me a lot of good here. I realise that I had to take the time to get up the windy, curvy mountain road, and finally reach the top before I can have any kind of success in love. I remember being extremely nervous the whole trip, scared of what might happen, since the driver of the bus seemed a little drunk and reckless, but I made it to the top.

I'm sorry that this post wasn't remotely funny, and is more of me just talking to myself, but I really had to make up for the offensive post about midgets yesterday. Life is all about balance. 

Thursday, February 14, 2013

This one has midgets!

Well, I guess since I'm up an hour before my alarm goes off and there is zero hope of me returning to sleep, it's a good time to write in here. Clear my mind before classes a little bit.

I guess now would be a good time to talk about the one armed midget I saw last week. And before you say something like "LITTLE PEOPLE. SHOW SOME SENSITIVITY," I think midget is a better word. Midget just sounds awesome. It's like a state of mind. Like, "don't mess around with me, I'm a midget." Little people sounds like something my sister used to play with when she was little. Little people belong in a little toy house and come with weird clothes that Velcro in the back. Better than those dumb rubber clothes that Polly Pocket and all of her dumb little friends came with. They are the poster children for abstinence. Can you imagine how that would go? Polly has a nice date with her friend, and things get a little hot, but then it's like "haha mutha fucka, good luck with the rubber bra. Also, my pants are a bitch to remove. Good luck getting any tonight!" Actually I guess Barbie had it a little worse, with the painted on underwear. Maybe that's why her and Ken broke up. Things just "weren't working out..."

Anyway, back to the midget, although that was quite an entertaining tangent. I also don't like the name dwarf, because it sounds like you are trying to pass as some kind of mythical creature. You don't live in fantasy land, okay? You're just missing a chromosome.

Although I guess it's kind of unfair to me to be saying this stuff, since I am, in fact, not a midget/dwarf/little person. In a way though, I kind of wish I was. Now, if you're a midget reading this right now, and you literally have fumes coming out of your ears, don't stop reading, because it gets good. I know it can't be that great living a life with a step stool attached to your hip, or having people constantly ask to give you piggy back rides (actually no, that would be pretty sweet), but think of the sense of community. I've seen that show "Little People Big World," and I see the conventions for midgets. Seriously. A bunch of midgets get together and just bond and get drunk and have fun. I'm totally jealous. Where do you honestly think that I'm going to find a convention for a bunch of other white, suburban girls? That's right. Nowhere.

But back to the one armed midget I saw the last week. I looked at that guy and thought "Damn, that guy really drew the shortest straw there is." No pun intended. But I could see myself complaining about things to this guy and just seeing the look on his face. Whenever I think about complaining about how bad things are for me, in my mind I can't help but see the face of this man, with a "seriously, wtf" expression on his face saying to me, "you're complaining about heartbreak? "I only have one arm. I'm also a midget." Seriously, my life may be bad right now, but that guy will ALWAYS be a one armed midget. Condemned to getting offered piggyback rides for the rest of his life. What a terrible existence.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Brace yourselves, this one actually is pretty hefty.

Okay, so I'm actually writing this yesterday, which is today, but tomorrow it will be yesterday, and tomorrow will be today. I know that's confusing, but whatever. This is going to be the single most motivational stuff I've ever written and I need to get it on cyber paper before the feeling is gone. Alright, so today (yesterday) I was feeling really upset, really down, just like the world sucks and my life sucks and bla bla bla things will never get better. But you know what? Somewhere in thinking like that, I had one of my little "epiphanies." First off, I just like the word. Second, I just really like the concept. I love it when I'm just walking around, minding my own business, then BAM, a great realisation hits me in the face. It wasn't just one of those ones where you just feel like running and you feel very motivated for about an hour and it wears off, but this is one that prompts a deep awakening, I would call it. Finally. For the past week, I've had dreams involving storms, and I'm like, thanks, subconscious, for letting me know that things are stormy. I'm not reminded of that nearly ENOUGH in my awake life. But upon interpreting it on the internet, dreaming about storms can apparently signal a "spiritual awakening" that is about to happen. So you know what? Here it is.

So, to no surprise to anyone reading this, I have had a lot of emotional shit going on lately. I've been an absolute mess, I haven't been myself, I've been this moody, sad, brooding monster who lives in her bed and tries to nap at 3 pm to shake off the intense feelings that she just doesn't want to deal with. I experienced a loss in my life that has prompted all of my inner demons to just come out and play. So I did what any emotional, creative person does, and I was like, "Hey! I'll start a blog!" So I did. I've been at it for about a week, which is a record for me and trying new things, but everyday when I write something, I can't help but notice that I don't have any followers, and the only person who comments on anything is my mom. Which is fine, and thank you mom for all the support, but I know you'll love me unconditionally no matter what, so of course you like my blog. And I did get a couple of people here and there to say that they really like it, and it's really motivated me to keep going, but I can't shake off the feeling of being nothing. To introduce a metaphor, I feel as though I'm this really intellectual person, but I'm lecturing in a dirty, poorly lit closet. I feel like this blog sits somewhere in a dark alley of the internet, and that if I didn't go out and promote it, that no one would really read it. But that's okay, because I'm reminded of a bunch of things through this:

It's a blog. It's on the internet. Do you know how many people have blogs? That's like expecting to be famous just because you have a decent singing talent. Yeah, you and about half of the population. I think about Adele, because she's awesome. Do I think Adele really expected to be famous overnight? Hell no. Did she work really hard day and night to achieve success? Hell yeah she did. There probably were a lot of times that she did just sing for her mother and that's it. There probably were times when she felt really low, I mean have you heard her album 21? That is an entire album of heartbreak. Adele probably had a TON of days where she didn't feel like getting out of bed and doing anything. But you know what? She did get out of bed, and she continued on. She sang her heart out and now she has a ton of fame, a ton of money, people love her, and to put a cherry on top, she even has what I would think is probably one of the cutest kids ever.

Alright I'm getting distracted, so I have to focus.

So I started a journal, because writing always helps me, and I was just discussing my feelings, and then all of a sudden, my fingers just started typing at lightning speed. Stuff like:

Yeah, I'm really sad now, and I'm really down, and it feels like life came up, punched me in the face, stole my wallet, and then left me there with nothing but a broken arm and a twitchy eye. But you know what? That's life. And you know what else? Nothing and I seriously mean, not a single thing in the universe is going to get better if I just allow myself to sit here and get depressed and worry about everything. NOTHING. If I continue on the same way I have, the seasons will change, but I will be the same person. Time can do everything it can for me, but I have to allow it to heal me. Kind of like cholesterol medicine. You can take it all you want, but if you're not changing your diet and exercising more, then the medicine really can't do much for you in the long run. I need to start doing things for myself. I need to start exercising and build some self confidence, because I can't rely on other people to build it for me. Yeah, I know I say and do a lot of weird stuff, and I know that I do have my imperfections, but in the long run, if you don't like me, that's your own damn problem, because I have a bunch of good qualities that you're missing out on. Yeah, I have had kids bully me through school, but you know what? The past is the past. You cannot change it. I was thinking earlier that I would give anything to go back about two months, and then I thought to myself, no. I can't relive the past. I can take the good memories, but honestly, all I have right now is the future and the present. And when you waste the present, it's a waste of the future. Time is not a renewable resource, so when you waste it, it's gone. And you won't ever get it back. At times I really wish more than anything that I could go back into the past and right all of my wrongs, but this is reality, and this is the hand I've been dealt, and it doesn't do anything for me to cry about the past. I just have to play the hand I've got the best I can.

Life has its ups and its downs. Life hands you flowers, life hands you happiness, life hands you lemons, and life can beat you to a pulp in a dark alley. Life really is a bitch sometimes. But if life didn't hand you the lemons, then you would never appreciate the flowers. If all that you ever experienced was happiness, then how the hell are you supposed to appreciate it? It just becomes normal. It becomes your day to day life. I had so much happiness in my life for the past couple of years, and while it was yanked from me, next time I experience the happiness, I will appreciate it with everything I've got. I will never take a single day for granted. Actually, I probably will at some point, since I am a human being.

It just sucks a lot some days. Some days I feel like screaming, and some days I'm so sad I can barely move, but I have to keep telling myself that things will get better. They will. This has been the longest, coldest winter I've been through in a while, and before you say something like "Actually, this winter has been pretty mild," or "You've never experienced a New England winter!" I meant metaphorically. I long for Spring each and every day, but I know that I cannot just snap my fingers and make it happen. It will take time. All good things in life take time. One day the sun will shine for me, but for now, I just have to brave the storm.

And it's going to suck. Like I said, there will still be days where I can't feel anything. There will be days that I worry incessantly about really stupid things that I shouldn't worry about. I can't help it. I wish I could just snap my fingers and make all of the anxiety go away. But I can't. Even as I write all of this motivational stuff, there is still something inside me that is constantly worrying and is sad and angry at the world. There is something inside me that wonders why everything went the way it did. I felt so empowered when I was out walking earlier, and now I feel down again. I constantly feel trapped between the rock and the hard place, but it's a reminder of the struggle I have ahead. I will get through this if it's the last thing I do. I can't snap my fingers and make everything go back to normal, but I can overcome this adversity. I will navigate the rough waters. I will weather the storm. I will become the person I am deep down inside. I am too strong not to. I've overcome this stuff before, and I'll do it again, whether things work out the way I want them to, or I ultimately end up alone. Eventually, I will look back on this and think of how far I've come. It really is a day to day struggle, but I'll fight until the end.

I now know why self confidence is so respectable and sexy. Because people really have to work for that shit.

Also, actually, I'm going to post this today, not tomorrow.

Wake up and smell the hormones.

Alright, I guess this post is going to start off kind of tense, because I feel tense. I'm a lonely, extremely hormonal young lady, and valentines day HAS to be tomorrow. So it's safe to say I'm a little on edge. Lets first start with: "why I hate being a woman."

Seriously, why are our brains wired the way that they are?? It's like when woman was being created, god was chilling out in his human making factory, or probably his laboratory, because I think at this point he was experimenting, and moved his hand a certain way, accidentally knocking over the hormone jar all over his experiment. Kind of like knocking salt over and it goes everywhere, and you're like "fuck it. I'm not starting over." Mom and dad can have salty spaghetti and meatballs. So that's kind of what I feel like, some salty experiment gone wrong. The terrible thing is, men don't understand because they don't go through it. I mean, I've heard people refer to something called "man PMS," which should honestly have another name. Seriously, man PMS is when they just get kind of moody, like their football team lost or something. Or they're tired. Being tired is not even REMOTELY similar to PMS, nor shall it be referred to as such. Because I can guarantee you I will never see a man crying his eyes out on the bathroom floor just because he feels crazy and fat. And for that, I am the most jealous I have ever been. Last year, my first year on campus, I had a transgender roommate, and you know what, I don't blame him for wanting to be a man!! (Side note, I say "him" because that is what he asked to be called, and if I'm going to mention him in my blog without asking, I at least feel the need to be a little respectful. Personally, I don't really give a shit if you reply by saying "you mean HER," and will probably not be listening anyway). The great thing about being a woman too, is that I get to deal with this crazy moodiness MORE THAN ONCE. I had it during puberty, I get it anytime I consider any hormonal birth control, I get it during pregnancy, then I get it during menopause, then finally, when I'm old and grey, I get to appreciate being a kick ass old lady. Except my knees will probably be too bad at that point to appreciate the normalness, so I'll just start sleeping all day and watching soaps. On a good note, my iPad offered to autocorrect the word "hormonal" to "normal" at one point, so at least something loves me...

Wow, that was tense. I wrote that this morning. I think it really is the holiday that we shall not speak of that is happening tomorrow. Seriously, stupid holiday, you really picked the absolute best time to come around. And I say that sarcastically. It's so much rougher when you are on campus. Think about it. If you're single on Valentine's Day, it's all like "okay, well I'll just sit here and cuddle with my dog, and drink a shit ton of wine, and I'll be okay." However, being on campus provides some problems.

1) I don't have a comfortable couch.
2) We are not allowed to have dogs.
3) We are not allowed to have wine.

So yeah, I'm in a bit of a pickle. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, with a pickle. I don't even like pickles...

It's really not that bad though, I guess. I could be a one-armed midget. I saw one of those last week and it really put my life in perspective, but that's a post for another day.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Prepare yourselves, this one is hefty. Actually not really.

Yeah, this post is probably going to be the mother of all posts, because honestly, I'm coming up with all of these ideas, and it's backing up my blog schedule by like, three weeks. So I basically just need an idea purge and I figure this blank white space is the best place to do it.

First off, I'm going to talk about dreams, because they are one of the coolest things your brain does. See, your brain is all like "well, eight hours is a long time to sleep, so here, I'm gonna tell you some stories." Except you're in them, which is the ultimate kind of fun. Except when they're bad, but we won't go there for now. Now, I always take this a step further, because I honestly believe that your subconscious is this magical place in your brain that senses things that you don't notice. Kind of like a fortune teller, except for the present. I always like to turn to the internet, because you can find a nice little dream dictionary and I look up what everything means. Now, I've had two pretty vivid dreams this past week, and I was going to interpret them here and now, but that's what a dream journal is for, and I'm pretty sure no one gives a shit what's going on in my fucked up subconscious anyway. :)

Next, I guess I'm going to talk about the concept of facebook and why it's so dumb. Then I will attempt to explain why I'm still on it all the time, but will fail miserably. Okay, so I think Mark Zuckerberg kind of had the right idea at first, and I'm sure was completely unaware of the fact that he would revolutionise the way that we socialise. Actually, I changed my mind, I'm just going to talk about the concept of unfriending. First of all, it's not "defriending." That just sounds dumb. Second, of all of the people on my facebook friends list, I would say that besides family, only about 10 other people are people who I actually consider friends. When I say friends, I mean people who are allowed to call me at 3:47 am with a personal problem. I mean people who I would actually consider taking the advice of. People who deserve speed dials in my phone. People that I would consider sharing bacon with. I run down this list when I've decided my boredom is unbearable and I need another human being to be around. You get the point. Now the rest of my "friends" can fall under a couple of categories:

1) You are disgusting and I need to stalk your life periodically to feel better about mine.
2) You were a bitch in high school and when you get hit in the face with the karma stick, I'd like to see it.
3) You go to college with me, so I feel obligated to keep you on there in case we ever run into each other.
4) You're just an interesting person, and I'd like to see what you do in life.
5) You post funny things all the time that make me happy.

I'm actually kind of done writing about how dumb facebook is, because it's becoming one of those things that the more I write about it, the less I really care. This is kind of like when I wrote an entire paper on the Medieval Warm Period. It sounded alright at first, then by the eighth page, I really didn't give a shit about how warm it was. I started off like "YEAH, VIKINGS!" and the excitement quickly wore off after the 17th article about ice cores.

Anyway, I actually don't feel much like writing anymore because I'm in one of those moods where I have to clean my room. Which is odd, because the mess hasn't bothered me at all for the past six months, but for some reason, my brain wants it done now. My brain is such a woman sometimes...

Monday, February 11, 2013

And the Winner Goes to... Opposable Thumbs!

I can't think of anything to write about besides human beings. I don't know why, and actually, it kind of reminds me of that commercial... "humans, even when we cross our t's and dot our i's..." bla bla bla you probably know the rest because commercials are annoying and ruin life. But I guess the stupidity of commercials is a post for another day. I have to keep track of all of these random thoughts that run into my head so that I can remember to write about them later. So far on my list:

1) How awesome Adele is. Because she seriously is.
2) Cat people. You know, people who think they are cats.

I have more actually, they're just in my ipod and I don't feel like getting it so I can tell everyone what I'm gonna write about. That would ruin the surprise.

So anyway, back to humans, because I was thinking about them this morning. I was thinking, with all of the stupid shit that we do, how the hell can we put ourselves above other animals? Now, before you roll your eyes, this is not me advocating for veganism, and that we give up our houses and everything we love to protect animals. Actually as I write this, I am eating a BLT. Do I regret anything? No. I don't. The pig died a noble death. Actually, killing a pig for bacon is like when people talk about sacrificing themselves or something to the gods. They are giving themselves up for the greater good. Maybe if they would have come up with the whole "opposable thumbs" thing first, they wouldn't be in such a sticky situation. I think maybe that's how the world works. I think God just went ahead and put a bunch of single celled organisms on the earth and said "alright, first one to develop opposable thumbs wins."

But sometimes I think being an animal would just be a much simpler life. You're born, you eat, you migrate, you try not to be eaten, you mate, you have babies, and then you die. That's such a simple life. Seriously, humans, what the hell? Of course, that's the price you pay for advanced cognitive activity. This shit happens. Do you think that elephants sit around the water hole gossiping, staring at the other elephants, thinking "oh my god, I wish I had a trunk like hers." or "Her tusks are just fantastic!" Do you think that they sit around on elephant facebook, staring at the lives of all of the other elephants in the Serengeti, thinking "Damn, look how happy she is. She has that adorable little elephant family. Everything is going so well for her. AND HERE I AM, ALONE WITH A BOTTLE OF THIS ELEPHANT WINE THAT I CAN'T EVEN OPEN BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE OPPOSABLE THUMBS." The answer is, no. They are not doing that. Because they're elephants, and they don't have facebook. Actually, I think any organism that doesn't have facebook is already about five steps ahead of humanity.

Actually, and this is me thinking while I'm writing, which may or may not be dangerous, I guess the purpose of me thinking about this, was to make sure I remind myself that humans make mistakes, which we do. We are this wonderfully complicated species that has a wonderfully complicated existence. We're not perfect. We can't live life with the fear of making mistakes, because then we miss out on all of the wonderful things that life has to offer. As nice as an animal's life sounds, they don't get to experience half the cool shit we do. I mean, come on, we have smartphones. We have bacon. Yeah, we have all this complicated shit to deal with, like love, and our purpose in the universe, and stuff, but we have BACON. We get to walk on two legs! We get to walk on two legs in a constructed house to the kitchen and cook BACON! We get to drive cars! To the store! For BACON. We get to deal with an insatiable curiosity about the world around us, why the earth moves, why the stars are the way they are, and of course, why bacon is so damn delicious!

Friday, February 8, 2013

Why Puppies Could Potentially Save My Life One Day

I do realise that I am posting something just about every day, which probably won't happen all the time, but this blog is kind of like a kick ass Christmas present; I just want to play with it all the time for now. Except I may actually stick with this, because it's awesome, plus this blog won't end up on my bedroom floor covered in clothes to be forgotten about until I clean my room next, which is about once every six months or so.

So anyway, I've gone off on a tangent, but something happened last night that really made me think about the world. I was sitting in my room, minding my own business, listening to music, and painting my nails, and all of a sudden, the most annoying thing in the world happens. The fire alarm goes off. Seriously, fire alarm, nobody likes you. Except, of course, when there is a fire, but the only problem is that of the 1,000 times I've ever heard a fire alarm, 999 times it has been a drill, and the one time, it was because of paint fumes or something. This is the real life application of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf."

Now, since I had just painted my nails, and since I was 99.999% sure it was a drill, since they do all of the campus fire drills in the same week, you know what I did? I stayed in my room. And do you know what I realised? Fire drills have trained me to do the exact opposite thing I'm supposed to do in the event that it goes off. Seriously. Now, some of it was peer pressure from my roommate, who I'm completely convinced, in the event of an actual fire, would just climb out the fifth floor window, rappel down the side of the building, all with a sandwich in her hand and while doing her homework, and she would be completely fine, so when she promised that she would save me if there was actually a fire, it set my mind at ease a bit.

For some reason, this whole thing reminded me of what my eleventh grade English teacher told me. He said that all that public school does is train us all to be factory workers. We do everything by a bell. We wait for a figure of authority to tell us what to do. We write five paragraph essays the way that The Man wants them written, three prong thesis and all. We get a half hour lunch break. Now, I'm not offended by this; after seeing half of the kids that I went to high school with, I could never really imagine an intellectual environment, where we were all free thinkers, and frequented the library, and actually came to school to learn. I mean, really. We had a day where everyone rode their tractor to school.

I'm actually not really sure what that has to do with a fire alarm, but for some reason, that's what I thought of. I did, however, come up with a solution to the problem. I think by the time one gets to college, he/she knows how to find the nearest exit in the event of a fire. I mean, come on, we spend all class time thinking about those glorious exits, the gateways to freedom. I think you could blindfold a college student and break his/her legs and they could still find the exit to a building. They would be pathetically crawling toward it, with kind of a Stevie Wonder expression on their face, kind of like a worm, or a dog with no use of its back legs, but they would find it nevertheless. So anyway, I think there should be an alarm for fire drills, but it should kind of be one of those under the table things, where all the seniors know about it, but the freshmen are all running outside, since they haven't been enlightened yet. Kind of like college "street smarts." Then, I think there should be an actual fire alarm. Where the alarm is four times louder, and says something like "HEY GUYS. LISTEN UP. THERE'S AN ACTUAL FIRE IN THE BUILDING. SERIOUSLY, GET THE FUCK OUT. WE'VE CALLED FIRETRUCKS AND EVERYTHING. And don't use the elevator." Because I would definitely take that shit seriously. Or even maybe something like "Attention! Go outside! There are puppies and free food!" because this is college, and that is exactly the type of thing that could clear out a building faster than an actual fire.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

If I were on House Hunters

So, I've begun to spend my evenings watching House Hunters, party because inside of me is a little old lady just dying to get out, and also party because a part of me longs for the days where I will have established myself enough in the world to own some property. I personally like the show. I like to live vicariously through the people who have a maximum budget of $5 million and are looking for seaside property on Cape Cod, but also the people who will get to watch their kids grow up running around the open layout of a new house and wiping their grubby hands all over the stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

Now, people always walk into these house hunts knowing exactly what they want in a house. They want stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, an open layout, a big kitchen, a nice backyard, an abnormally large master bedroom (even though you only spend a third of your life in said room, most of which is sleeping), walk in closets all over the place, there has to be two sinks in each bathroom, and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NO POPCORN CEILINGS TO BE FOUND ANYWHERE. Now, this may sound normal to anyone making a decent paycheck, or suburbanites who have been trained to lack any sort of originality of any kind, but honestly, to a broke college student like myself, I have decided that all I really need are four walls, a kitchen, and probably space to throw a mattress on the floor for those moments that I feel like sleeping. Oh yeah, a bathroom too. That may be useful. But anyway, watching these people with these ridiculous requests makes me think, if I were on this show, I would have to come up with a bunch of ridiculous requests too, right? So I thought long and hard about this and this is what I came up with:

1) My living room has to be facing west. I like to see the weather before it comes in, and on the off chance that I'm up in the morning, I don't want to be blinded. I would rather be blinded by the sun in the evening, when I'm more equipped to handle it.

2) I want two staircases that go to the second floor. I saw how useful this shit was on the Cosby Show. Plus, what if one staircase catches on fire and I'm stuck on the second floor? I'm not about to jump out of any windows. I will just walk down the other set of stairs to safety. If Bill Cosby has it in his house, then I bet there's a good reason for it.

3) I must have old, outdated appliances. Stuff was built to last back in the day, and lets face it, somebody needs to love the old appliances. I want to give them a safe refuge from all of the silver spoon holding suburbanites.

4) I must be at least 3.7 miles away from downtown. If I walk for at least 3.7 miles, I can burn enough calories to feel better about myself, but it's not far enough away that if I want some overpriced coffee in the middle of a snowstorm, I won't be risking my life too much to get there.

Now, I must have all of those things, and they must be within my insane, restricted budget, even though everyone knows in the end, I will pick the house that's $5,000 over my budget but comes with a pool.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Why College is the Most Useful Waste of Time Ever

My name is Emily, and I am an undergraduate student at your typical four year university. I completely forgot where I was going with this. Actually I came up with the idea for this blog on a walk I was taking, as kind of a way of taking my thoughts out of my head and putting them down on (virtual) paper. Actually, not really. I started this blog so that I can still talk to myself without freaking out my roommate. Anyway, back to my story on college, because you can't really say something weird like, "college is the most useful waste of time ever" without explaining yourself.

Where did this come from? I have recently realised that I hate college. I understand that it is more of where I go that I hate and less of the idea, but it is nevertheless where I came up with this idea about higher education. I hate being away from home, I hate the people that I share this campus with, I hate the drunk sorority girls, I hate the food, I hate the sober sorority girls, I hate the fact that half a gallon of milk costs me $3.99... the list goes on and on. As much as I would rather be at home, with all of the cowshit, directv, and homecooked meals that I could possibly ever want, I can't say that being here hasn't been a valuable learning experience.

We all seem to think we have everything in life figured out when we're 17-18 years old. We've been through two or three breakups, so we think we have the entire idea of love figured out. It's easy, love is when you go places like the movies and the ice skating rink together and you kiss each other often. One day, you will magically meet someone who shares similar interests, and you two will get married, have children, build a white picket fence and live happily ever after and that's that. We all have a heavy interest in something, so that's obviously what we're going to go to college and study and we're going to have one career in that field until we retire. We're going to make a ton of money if we go to college. Good grades will get us anywhere. Seriously, it actually makes me angry how much high school didn't teach us.

So why are we expected to go to college right away? To me, college is a place where you pay thousands of dollars to send your kid so that he/she can grow up a little all while taking a bunch of pointless classes and sleeping until noon. They give you two years to figure out what it is that you want to study, and then are perfectly intent to make you spend the next six years in school. And the thing is that people encourage this. When my sister graduated from high school last year, I had everyone and their mother asking me what she was planning to do with her life. When I said that she didn't want to go to school, and wanted to just enter the workforce instead, they looked at me as if I had just said, "well, actually, she wants to live on couches the rest of her life and she never plans to amount to anything." In reality though, she really does have the better end of the deal for now. She gets to live at home, where she has a big, comfy bed, a room of her own, and all of the directv and homecooked meals she wants. She doesn't have thousands of dollars in debt, she makes a fairly steady paycheck, and doesn't have the consistent worry of having to move back home after college because she chose a liberal arts degree that won't get her a job, which isn't exactly on everyone's to-do list. She gets the comfort of having her family there whenever she needs them, something I do have, but in a long distance sort of way.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Basically, in high school, I knew that I wanted to be in a city. I kept telling myself that I belong in a city, where all the action is, and that I couldn't wait to get away from all of the cow shit and rednecks. I wanted to be a music teacher, because I was fairly decent at the flute and thought it was the only really stable thing I could do with a music degree. I was going to have fun, gradually stop calling home, move out the second I could, and eventually move somewhere far, far away.

Things that I've learned in my time so far at school:

1) I need fields. I prefer the smell of cow shit to the smell of sewers, car exhaust and bus fumes any day. When I'm upset, and feel like my bedroom walls are closing in on me, I need wide open spaces to explore and walk around. I don't like traffic. And I like being able to walk around at 9:30 pm without fear of being robbed, raped and/or stabbed.
2) I don't need a great job. I don't need a job that pays well. A good paying job would make life easier, but ultimately I want a job where I can help people, a job where I can make a difference somehow. I want to travel, I want to live on couches, I want to see and do things that I never would have thought of doing (like trying frog legs... I definitely did NOT wake up that morning and think, "hm, I wonder how frog legs taste," nor did I particularly like the taste, but there was an element of exhilaration in trying those frog legs that I long for every now and again)... (the exhilaration, not the frog legs).
3) The grass is not always greener on the other side. I think this is self explanatory.
4) I want to live close to my family and friends. Even if it means living knee deep in cow shit forever, it would all be worth it for homecooked meals and directv. I'm kidding, kind of. I think it's healthy to get out and explore the world, but your family (if you're lucky like me and you have a solid, intact, loving family) will always be your biggest fan, and your house will be a safe refuge when your liberal arts degree doesn't get you a job.

So with that said, college hasn't been a completely invaluable waste of time; I think I've learned enough valuable knowledge about life to get me started, and I've learned the importance of discovering what you want out of life. I won't be going to graduate school anytime soon, because one of the biggest things I've learned is that I need to get out of a classroom and see the world for myself. College is almost like a safe haven. You're not required to find a job yet, and you have a safety net that is mom and dad just in case you do fall on your ass. It's basically day care for young adults, a place where they go until they can learn how to wipe their asses and hold their own bottles. Therefore, it is through my personal experiences that I can say that that college is the most useful waste of time (and money) ever.