Tuesday, October 9, 2007

New Blog

Hey all, I have a new blog at http://lazytypea.wordpress.com/

I don't have any real posts yet because I only just did it. I'm trying to figure out how to move this blog over there. So, I don't know what to tell you. I hope you'll keep reading.

Fall Break

I'm on fall break right now. Today, Tuesday, is actually the last day. It makes me kinda sad. I know I haven't exactly accomplished anything. I should probably go back and explain Saturday:

I woke up at 10:30. I didn't get out of bed until around noon. Then around 1 I went to the grocery store. I was back at my apartment by 2. That was it. I laid down on the couch and that was it. Wait! I cooked a forzen pizza (fabulous! I was surprised) I sorta watched TV and some dvd M*A*S*H. Then I made spaghetti. I made the best damn spaghetti sauce of my life on Saturday. I've actually hidden it so that I won't have to share it. I rushed back to my apartment yesterday (I thought my roommate was coming back) so that she couldn't eat it all, or really any of it. I am such an only child sometimes. That's pretty much my Saturday. I also went ot sleep early, around 10:30. It was nice.

Sunday. Sunday was lovely. I found a cricket crouching amongst my things. I screamed. Quite loudly. The bastard hopped into my closet, which has stuff strewn about the floor. So, I pulled out and shook each thing in the bottom of my closet. I finally found him. We had a showdown of me chasing him about the closet. I think I won. A couple of his legs were separated from his body. Then I flushed him down the toilet. I'm afraid of crickets. They hop and they're unpredictable. When I told my dad about it, he likened it to the scene from Dr. No in which James Bond kills a spider.

Shortly after that, I went home. I didn't really want to go home, but I kinda needed to. Dad and I watched the Yankees game together on Sunday. That was nice. I don't know what we would do without baseball and the Simpsons. We would have nothing to talk about and we'd never do anything together. Mom and I went shopping. I got some new sweaters and some new long-sleeved shirts. And boots. I got a new pair of black boots. I adore them! And my new off-white long sweater.

Then Monday I had blood taken. My doctor felt that my white count was high, so she wanted to re-test me, since I haven't been sick or had allergies recently. Personally, I think the whole doctor business is a waste of my time. After this, I came back to my apartment. I thought my roommate was coming back Monday as well and I had to protect my spaghetti. She'll be back today, sometime. No matter.

Last night was terrible. I honestly cried after the Yankees lost. It broke my heart. And now, I'm stuck in a bad position. Do I root for the Indians or the Red Sox? I have to choose: team that knocked out my team or the Red Sox, the enemy. I know that in college football, my dad will root for the Big 12 team, no matter who it is. Does baseball work that way? Is it good for the Yankees if Boston wins? Maybe I should just root for Colorado and not take an interest in the ALCS. I don't want my baseball to be over for the year. (I don't have any sport left!) But I don't like any of the teams.

I'm procrastinating. I don't want to do my stuff. I want to laze about in my pajamas all day and do nothing. But I can't. I need to get up, make breakfast (French toast, I've decided) and get to it. Boo!

I'll probably be back later. Because I hate homework. Oh! Participate in my poll if I'm able to get it to work. If you have any comments or want to elaborate, just do a comment on this post.

**********Note: I can't get the thing to work where I put up a poll. So, answer this question as a comment, if you want:
Should the Yankees keep Torre? Your choices are: Yes, No, and Give him 1 more year before we decide.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

I'm in

I took the plunge I was talking about. I just dove right in and I'm glad I did. I don't have buyer's remorse, so to speak, like I did in similar situations. I may change my mind later. But for right now, I'm just going to enjoy the view.

I really wanted to write something yesterday, but nothing had happened yet. And I didn't want to write a boring post in which I detail my day of classes.

Speaking of classes...I have a monsterous to-do list this weekend. I would love to get it all done today, but I don't know if that will happen.

I have to do a poetry anthology, in which I collect 25 poems that I really like. The catch is that they must be contemporary, meaning in the last 100 years. This really narrows my prospects.

I have to do a paper over a DH Lawrence story. In case you don't know, he writes mostly about sex. And I'm pretty sure my story, You Touched Me, is all about sex. The whole class will be reading it. Hopefully I can come up with enough material relating to the story so that I don't have to fill with my own personal experience.

I have a research paper over John Donne. It's due at the end of the semester, but I'd like to get it out of the way.

I have an essay test over Shakespeare's sonnets on Friday. I should probably study for it...

I have to do part two of a midterm for my soc class.

I drew a lovely picture in my notebook, but I need to recreate it in my sketchbook. It is from Eat Pray Love. I decided to draw what I imagined it looked like. If you've read it, it's the person with 4 legs (to stay balanced), a head full of foliage, and seeing the world through the heart. I had the hardest part with the legs.

I also need to go to the grocery store. I'm really almost out of food that I'll eat. I should probably do this first because "tut, tut, it looks like rain."

Let me see...after I wake up from my coma, I'll write more. I'll also need to read more Eat Pray Love first too.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Dive on In

I think I'm going to take the plunge. I was afraid to do it. But I think I'm going to do it. I don't want to say what it is, because frankly, it's none of your business. Just know that something I was afraid to do is going to be done. I think.

Now that that's out of the way...listen to me rant for a while. I've always been a looker, never a leaper. I mean, sometimes I'd leap, but not without a long, extensive look first. Because of this, I feel that I've missed out on a few important life experiences. In the past family members and ex boyfriends have kept me grounded...too grounded. I want to have fun. I want to make mistakes. I want to do something that has a huge risk factor, but could possibly have amazing rewards!

I know that my family loves me and cares for me and wants nothing but the best, but I've got to do my own thing now.

I'm reading Eat Pray Love. That book is changing my life already. I'm only on chapter 23, out of 106. There a picture described in it and I'm trying to recreate it myself. I got pretty close to getting it done during creative writing. But I need to draw it in my sketchbook, not on notebook paper.

Basically, Eat Pray Love has taught me that I'm young, I'm free. I'm freer than I've ever been and ever will be. And it's taught me to not be afraid. I can't be scared all the time. I can't go through life being afraid of what may or may not happen. I'm not saying that I should live without abandon, but I need to live. I'm tired of not feeling anything but desire or emptiness.

This all ties in with me taking the plunge.

We decorated the wall behind our table the other day. I love it! It looks great. The nice thing is that we can change out the pictures in the frames. I want to do one with us in our prom dresses. Because I think I looked damn good in my dress, tiny boobs and all. I actually think I've looked great in every single formal dress I've bought. It may sound conceited to say that, but I'm serious! I'm proud of my taste in formal dress attire. Maybe you'll see a collection of the pictures somday. Probably not because they aren't on digital camera.

OOH!!! I did something remarkable today! I deleted the numbers of the most poisonous person in my life. I deleted them from my life. I've felt very good today. I think it's because of that.

I have a passion for frozen grapes. I really like them. I'm mostly saying that because I don't want to stop typing this entry, but I'm running out of things to say.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

One Week

I cannot believe what a difference one week can make! I've been very busy this past week, which is why I haven't been blogging. I have a midterm paper due tomorrow and I only just finished it today...we've had a month to work on it (procrastinators unite!...tomorrow)

Let's see what else...I had to go to the doctor last Thursday. It was one of those super-fun exams. So I'm thinking everything is ok. And I should find out the results of my blood screen soon (for cholesterol, diabetes, etc). Apparently you're supposed to get one of those every 5 years...to my calculations, I've never gotten one before. So, good for me.

Then Thursday I got back into my college town and we had a reading for this book I'm the poetry editor for and a good friend of mine, who is also on staff, told me about how serious the reading was. And this got me all freaked out. (I want to interject here with an apology to my managing editor because I gave her the URL to my blog and I'm about to confess to a shameful secret here) My friend got me so freaked out about how serious the readers were and how into it they were and how much they were reading. Yeah, my friend and I had planned on reading like 1 thing, not 10 minutes worth of stuff. So, we bailed. We said I was having a crisis. And I was. But I could have stuck it out if necessary. I didn't though. I got ice cream instead.

Something good came out of it though...during the after party (which I could not attend) a certain good friend of mine divulged to a certain someone that I have a crush on that I have a crush on that person. So, that was kinda nice. And we made plans to get lunch that Friday...and then we made plans to hang out on Saturday. And then we hung out last night as well...It's been quite great thus far.

My main concern is that I'll end up diving off of the great precipice and getting hurt or making mistakes. I know that mistakes are part of the growing up process. But you don't want to make every mistake possible. I've recently come out of a relationship that was one giant mistake. (But enough of that!) I don't have the time or the patience to make every mistake in the world. This is where I get angry at my parents for not giving me siblings. Although if I was the oldest, it wouldn't really matter anyway, would it?

I think I'm going to draw and read Eat Pray Love. But first I want to shower. I want to feel warmth. It's cold!

I'll write more later. I hope.

Editor's Note: I want to say that I will never chicken out and skip a reading again. So, for all of the staff that read this, I am sorry and I am embarrassed that I let you guys intimidate me so much. I won't let you down again.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


I really want to write something, but I'm not sure what. What can I say? I could make up something interesting. Or I could write about feeling, thoughts, ideas which might get me into trouble if the right (or wrong because I don't want them to read this) person read them.

What do you do when you get to a point where you have no freaking clue? You know that you aren't happy with your present circumstances. You know what it is that you're wanting. But you can't get it. Then you get something else completely different and you're just not sure about it. Do you stick to your original guns or do you take what you get? I'm not implying that what you get is in any way inferior to what you want, but it's going in a direction you never thought you'd go.

I find myself thinking WWDD? What Would Dominique Do?

On the other hand can I honestly allow myself to make decisions based on what a fictional character would do? Not even what they would do, but what I think they would do. God knows I'd love to be Dominique Francon. But I just don't think it's going to happen.

How does one know when a prayer has been answered? How do I know that this is the path God actually want to to go down? I'm one of those people who would need a burning bush or something biting me on the ass (not in the Bible that I know of) for me to realize, "Hey, THIS is what I should do."

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I'm not worried about it. Just a check-up. But that's how they all start out, don't they? I'd better stop with that otherwise I'll freak myself out.

Out of curosity, does alcohol comsumption impede the absorption fo vitamins? Cause I know someone that took a vitamin not long ago and they kinda feel like they might want a drink. By the time anyone responds to this, it will be too late. But for future reference? She says there's no warning affixed to the bottle...so I guess it's OK. Then again, she's taking a certain formula of vitamins to make her hair grow faster, and the whole drinking part is normally not a problem with people taking those vitamins, so maybe they wouldn't put such a warning on the bottle. It's a toughie, but I'm going to advise her that one night of non-vitamin-al absorption is OK. It won't make that much of a difference...I hope...

Monday, September 24, 2007


I went to my first REAL college party on Saturday. I had the BEST time! I would have written about it earlier, but I was dead tired on Sunday. I can't say that I accomplished anything, but going to the grocery store where I promptly spent $100. But most of it was long term investments--razors ($18), tylenol ($8), vitamins ($10), and some stuff similar to that. Plus I had some coupons for stuff that I will need eventually, but would expire before I needed them (shampoo, for instance) so I had to buy that.

OK. The party. It was wonderful. We sat around, drank wine, smoked cigarettes, and talked about literature, art, life, and travel. Thankfully I am not the only person who does not like this state. Other people also think that it is easy to become trapped in Oklahoma. Unfortunately, I was not able to contribute much to the conversation. I have not been anywhere. I have not read the right authors (this is my judgment, not anyone else's). And I haven't seen any really good works of art in person. For the first time I felt loved and accepted by a group of people. I have read this book called The Secret Memoirs of Jackie Kennedy. Amazing! I can now relate to the part where she's in Paris and she's with a bunch of artists. It was like any movie you see with a scene where a bunch of artists meet up.

I have actually rededicated myself to the desire to be a Bohemian after this party. Silly, isn't it?

I wish every night could be a party starting at 10, then I would go to class and sleep all afternoon. That would be perfect.

In other news, today I went to talk to my advisor about enrollment. Unfortunately, as I delve deeper into my English major, the classes start later and later. I'm one of those people who doesn't do well in the afternoons. I'm a morning person. Anyway, I'm taking this 19th century American Lit class. I'm so freaking excited! Many of the required text are ones I've already read or they're on my reading list.

I'm having a difficult time reading something. I want to read about a million books right now, but none of them are keeping my interest. I want to read all of The Once and Future King. I also want to read The Last of the Mohicans, Leaves of Grass, and Eat, Pray, Love (which I can't start until Thursday because my mom only just bought it for me). I'm perusing Once and Future King. I read the first book of it at the end of my junior year of high school. We had 2 weeks to read the entire 639 page book, on top of studying for our other finals. Yeah right!

Ugh! I know I ought to work on the 3 page critique I have to write for Wednesday. (Read 3 articles and then decide who I feel sorrier for in understanding the opposite sex) The problem is, I feel sorry for both sexes. I feel bad for ladies because guys aren't always very expressive and seem very secretive. Plus, every book written on understanding guys is contradictory to the last. But I feel sorry for guys because ladies are just plain nuts. Every blog I've read has at least one post wherein the writer says she flew the handle and has no idea why. I do it all the time myself, so don't worry.

Just got an email back from a professor whose class I'm contracting. (I'm supposed to take 2 honors classes a semester and if I don't, I have to do an extra project of some sort to remain active) I get to write my 5 page paper comparing Shakespeare's sonnets to the writings of my favorite poet--John Donne.

Oh! Anyone who has a blogger.com account, how do I get my profile picture to work? The instructions seem to be Lori-proof. I upload the picture into a draft and then go to put the link in the profile place on the Edit Profile menu, but it always comes up with some sort of error. So, I don't know if I'm copying and pasting the right section. HELP!!! Honestly, I'd much rather get 10 emails explaining it to me, so assume I don't have it figured out until I announce it on my blog.

Friday, September 21, 2007

I'm not sure what to say...

I'm not sure what to say. It seems like so many things have happened lately that seem noteworthy.

Firstly, I hate when people break promises. Trust is a major thing with me. It goes right up there along with respect. Break a promise to me, that's disrespecting me. I don't like that one bit. I also don't like that I feel the need to retroactively assume that they were lying to me. I know you're going to tell me to just cut my losses with this person. And I agree, I should.

Nextly, I don't like that one of my professors told us that this project her son did in college sounded fun, so we were going to do it as well. I'm sorry, but I don't think a 4-5 page paper sounds fun.

I am a bit perturbed that my mom decided to make my car appointment (the fuse box has a short in it) for this weekend. Not fall break which is in a couple of weeks, but this weekend. The weekend where I get invited to a party by someone and really want to go. I'm actually fairly certain that when I say I'm not coming home on a weekend, she manufactures an excuse for me to come home. But I told her that I have this party that I want to go to. That way I'll spend one night at home and not two. If I spent two, that would lead me back to the firstly thing that I hate.

On the plus side, there is the party. I'm part of the staff for a student publication. The party is being thrown by one of the editors. My head editor and I have plans to get dressed up and go together. I'm really glad that she's going. Because even though I don't know her very well, I do know that I won't somehow end up stranded at the host's apartment if I'm unable to drive myself home.

I know what you may be thinking. She's not 21 yet. I know. I'm not. I want to go ahead and skip right ahead to 21 this year, instead of just being 20, but I don't think it's going to work. Anyway, yes, I'm going to a party where there's drinking. Yes, I'll probably drink. But I'm not going to drink to the point where I'm so freaking nauseous that it's touch and go on whether or not I'll make it home to throw up. I think that's rude to do.

Anyway, we're going to get dressed up in black dresses and heels. It's a classy themed party. I'm really excited, in case you can't tell. I think it could be the first of a long line of parties with these people.

So, my tummy hurt when I went to bed. I thought, never fear, hopefully you'll just throw up. (I'd rather throw up than be miserable) I didn't throw up. And my tummy still hurts this morning. It hurts enough, in fact, that I don't want to drink any coffee. Which in turn makes my head hurt. I wouldn't say I'm caffeine dependent...but I need my morning coffee and afternoon Dr. Pepper to have a good day. Even now, I feel my resistence weakening. I'm going to end up making some cofee. Why? Because I believe it's a good luck charm.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I'm a Dork!

OK. I just got a comment from someone who said that they were going to be a reader of my blog. It made me really happy. I know I'm not writing anything completely earth shattering, like JK Rowling, but I feel that as long as I reach one person, I'm doing well.

I also received my first criticism in a personal correspondance. This person that I've been writing to thinks it's getting hard to talk to me because I mention one of my ex boyfriends a lot. I didn't really think that I was, but now I know it bothers this person. So I'll not mention my ex to this person, should they choose to even write me back. (It would be sad if they didn't, because I like talking to this person.)

I know it's "my blog," but if something I write about totally turns you off, please tell me. There are some things better left unsaid to the masses. I'm not saying that these things will go unexpressed, but they'll be expresses in other places--like poetry, a journal, or even through a picture.

By the way, last night I drew a daisy and it actually looks like a daisy! I'm so happy because my stuff usually looks more comic than real.


I hate food. OK? I loathe it. It causes me such misery. But I keep going back for more. I'm not sure why. Today I decided to go get Chinese food from this charming little establishment that has really tasty stuff. I got it and drove off a ways when I remembered that I didn't ask for gallons of soy sauce. "I must have soy sauce!" I looked and only had two measly packets in my bag. I knew it wasn't enough, but I was too lazy to turn around and get some. I'd figure out something. Well, I did. I tried the chicken with the sweet and sour sauce (thankfully the guy misheard me when I said, "No sweet and sour sauce.") It wasn't bad...it was almost good. Some of the time. Somehow I used one packet on half of my rice and satisfactorily covered two egg rolls. I still have one packet left and half of my rice.

I'm having leftovers for dinner. I have so many. I have the rice, some twice baked potatoes, some pizza from last night (which I probably won't choose), some brisket, and some BBQ beef. I'm feeling nauseous just thinking about it, but in a few hours I'll be OK to go.

I also don't like clothes. More specifically, I don't like wearing them. I know I'm running dangerous ground with oversharing, but I don't want to wear them. I don't mind owning them...They're nice to look at.

I'd also go barefoot everyday if I could.

Why am I just sitting here complaining? I have no idea. I don't like that about myself. I've decided that I don't like myself and I want to change. I'm not happy with the way things are going, so I must do something to remedy this. I know I said that being happy all the time isn't "normal," but I also think that a person needs to make their own luck.

Anyway, that's where I am.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

This was not one of my better morning starts. First, I randomly woke up 15 minutes early, only to discover that the power was out. That's annoying. Even more annoying is the alarm system beeping at certain intervals. But once that was solved, I mostly worried about how I was going to get coffee.

So my roommate decides that flipping out is the option. She cussed and went on about how pissed she is and how unacceptable this is. I call the power company. Within 20 minutes, they have the power restored. We're still not sure how long the power was out, but I know it was a while. How? Well, my computer, fully charged at bed time, was down to 46% battery capacity by this morning.

After this, I try to do my morning internet routine. Except, the stupid IP that my apartment complex uses didn't have me registered. But wait! I did register. A month ago. I called the tech person. I figured they would be...not from this country. They weren't, but we were able to understand each other. I was mostly annoyed at having to call in the first place.

That's about all on the bad morning...This afternoon I went to a BUNCH of different blogs. I'm going to start reading and commenting on them so that people will read and comment on mine. Although I'm sure adults have better things to do than read a college student's blog. But maybe I'll get lucky...

I've been thinking. Lately a friend (and I use the term loosely) commented that I'm just not a happy person. This really bothered me. "If I'm not happy, then something must be wrong with me." Thoughts like this streamed through my mind. Then it dawned on me during the bus ride home today: So what if I'm not happy? That's life! There's a difference between being happy and between making do with what you have. And I also realized that because I'm unhappy, I'm more mature. It's like, "I'm sorry that your life has been so damn perfect that you always seem to get the best of everything, but that's not realistic! One day, you won't have that and you won't know what to do with yourself." On the other hand, when things finally do go my way and I get everything that I want, I probably won't know what to do with myself either. But I'll be able to appreciate it more.

As pessimistic as it may sound, I think that the philosophy or mtto "Shit happens" is a great. It sums up everything. It's not a woe is me thing. It's acknowledging that things don't always go your way. It's not asking people to feel sorry for you. It's accepting that life isn't perfect and you have to keep going. Roll with the punches is a nicer way of saying shit happens. But I like the conciseness of it. Two words, three syllables. It's great.

Monday, September 17, 2007


I love baseball. My favorite team is the New York Yankees. I know. Most people hate the Yankees for the sake of hating the Yankees. Personally, I have a lower opinion of Boston fans than I do of Yankees fans. The Boston fans just seem like snobs. That's just my perception, so no offense if you like Boston. It's mostly from watching the games.

Anyway...baseball. I can't explain it. But I love it. All year I yearn for opening day. I can't wait. I get so excited and happy for opening day.

That MasterCard commercial where it's about spending a week with your favorite team nearly makes me cry. I LOVE that old guy with the sign that say, "Yankees Need a Win Today." It actually became my mantra last night. You see, we were playing in Boston. On Friday we came from a 7-2 deficit and won. 6 runs in the 8th. Wonderful. Then we got our asses handed to us on Saturday. But that's OK. There was still Sunday. It was 1-1 through most of the game. Then with 2 men on, 2 men out, my hero Derek Jeter came up to bat. I was so scared because I knew this was our one chance. I couldn't watch. I changed the channel. A few minutes later, I flipped back. Derek did it. We were up 4-1! To add an element of fear in the adoring fans, my Yankees let those Bostonians score 2 more runs. It was 4-3. Then, they loaded the bases. I was freaking out! Two out, bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and who comes up to bat? Big Papi, that's who. I was so scared! Of course I wanted that S.O.B. to go out on strikes, but Yankees Need a Win Today. I was willing to take it any way we could get it. It was a fly and Derek caught it. Yankees won. I almost cried. I'm not even joking. I almost cried.

I restrained myself from shouting at this amazing feat. I didn't want my roommate to come in and bug me. But I was so happy!

Many people think I like the Yankees only because they're "good" or "rich" or something like that. Let's see...we haven't won the World Series in AGES! I liked them before that though. My dad watched the Yankees since he was a kid. And so, I'd watch the Yankees with him. It's not like I jumped on some bandwagon, like so many "fans." Believe me. I'm from Oklahoma. I understand band-wagoning. Seems like it happened a few years ago with some little football game...

Anyway...that's my take on the Yankees. It's not about the money. It's not about the prestige. It's about the honor of the tradition.

After all, The Yankees Need a Win Today.

Sunday, September 16, 2007


Have you ever looked around and wonder how you got to this new place? Because I sure am. Here I am, majoring in creative writing. But I'm not a writer. I really wanted to study the classics in college. But no. My college doesn't have the classics. I really didn't do myself justice with college. I had the opportunity to go to TU, but I turned it down in order to live away from home. But the place I chose is so un-me. It's not the me I was and it's not the me I want to be. It's some other, alternate universe place.

Thus I am bound and determined to not let that happen with law school. My friend talked me into going to law school. And she wasn't even coaxing, it just happened. Anyway, I'm going to check out a lot of places because I don't want to be boxed in again and choose the lesser of two evils.

I have so many changes I want to make. Personal changes. But I have to wonder, why do I want to change myself so badly? And is it really so bad that I want to change so much?

There's this blog. I've made reference to it before. Notes From the Trenches. It's a mothering blog, which I certainly am not. But I love how she writes. I would love to write like her. She's so honest and smart and funny. She doesn't just sit and bitch or type out her thoughts...she tells a story. Even if you don't have kids, you should totally read it. I wish my blog would someday be as big as hers. But I don't think I have any readers.

I think I want to go back over my main goal. I'm unhappy. I'm very unhappy with the way things are going right now. I can't blame anyone for that. Although I can say that certain people make me feel worse than others. All my life I've been the one that people depend on. I've been the mom to various groups of people. I've been level-headed, rational, and boring as hell. I don't want that anymore. I want people to wonder about me. I want to be late to something and catch attention for it. I don't know how many of you have seen Because I Said So, but I want to be a bit like Mandy Moore's character in it. A bit of a klutz and not very organized. I want to be funny and entertaining to people. But I also want to capture them in a way that is remarkable.

I've gotten to the point where I realize that I don't really know what I want. I mean, I have some general idea about where I want to end up. And I know the most obvious steps to getting there. But I still don't know where exactly. I go back and forth on the issues at hand. Right now I'm VERY gung ho for law school. But what about next week? Next month? And next year?

I'm sure that people, especially those who are wiser and more mature, will say that it's OK to not know. And I agree. I can't know how this is all going to end up. But it's so stressful because I don't know if what I'm curently doing is jeopardizing what I want.

For those of you who are where you want to be: how did you get there? I don't mean your steps. But your journey. What was it like? Did you get there by accident? Did you almost get there not at all? And how did you know that where you are is right? How did you know that what you did (to get where you are) was right?

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

What the Hell?

I have trust issues. I am one of those people who is not so forgiving to those who violate my trust. Especially as I get older. I mean, honestly, you're an adult. You don't need to go be a little gossip. I things I say to my roommate should be held confidential. I think that's not too much to expect or ask. So when I want to bitch a little about what a jerk my ex boyfriend is, you really ought not tell your brother, who is friends with my ex's new girlfriend. Isn't that fair? If I'm completely out of line on this one, please tell me.

Back to my trust issue. I don't know why I have it. It's not like something catastrophic happened when I was a small child. My parents are still married to each other. I haven't learned any dark secret that rocked my world. Yet my trust, once broken, is hard to get back. I know that there are some instances when one needs to break confidence, but honestly, I'm not plotting to hurt anyone, so keep your damn mouth shut.

Now I have to essentially be a bitch because there's no way I'm going to share a thing with my roommate. Interesting how we haven't been living together for one month yet and my trust has already been violated.

In other news, I don't have anything nice to say to anyone today. It's not that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I'm just surrounded by meddling a-holes. But I'm going to be civil. Why? Because I can't help myself. The times when I've been completely justified in flying off the handle are times I haven't acted. I never act. But I'm getting better than I used to be. I will actually argue back or voice an opinion. I see a battle as when two people disagree and both voice their opinions. It doesn't need to be a siege or some duel to the death, with one bloody person screaming uncle and will need therapy till kingdom come. A battle is saying, "No. I won't spend $50 or more to cover a couch when I don't give a flying flip if it's covered."

If that's not a battle, what is? Please. I need to know. I need to start fighting. I need to start standing up for something so that I don't fall for everything.

I'm pausing my reading of The Fountainhead. I started reading it with someone and since I'm about 100 pages closer than they are, I'm going to wait. In the mean time, I'm reading On the Road. I haven't started it yet. I don't know that I'll like it. But I think I'll take something from it. Isn't that a mark of maturity? Being able to say, "OK, I didn't like that book, but I learned XYZ from it." That seems mature to me.

And maybe it's a bit immature of my to refuse to read Joseph Conrad for one of my classes. But I don't really care. To me, his books are formulaic. Change the name, change the hair color, change the setting, change the natural disaster and Conrad has a new story. It's just like a Danielle Steele novel. His long novella, Typhoon, was summed up in 5 lines. Conrad has this amazing (not in a good way) way of using 500 words to describe something that could be summed up in 5.

He also doesn't do female characters. I just can't relate to a bunch of guys on a ship who don't even get horny. If they got horny once in a while, I'd be able to relate some. But it's like sex doesn't even exist to these guys.

Here's another what the hell thing, but has nothing to do with books. Why don't mirrors have some sort of protector on them? I hate having toothpaste marks on my mirror!

I just put on my dark makeup for the first time in months. It's not as dark as it was. I don't have on any eyeliner, just the eyeshadow. It's looks great! I love how it makes my eyes sparkle! And my eyelashes look fuller and longer. I can't believe people didn't like this makeup on me.

As always, talk to me! Tell me something.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

One Where I Beg at the End

I hate how my professors each think that their's is the only class I'm taking.

Another thing I hate is that I have interesting stories to tell on this blog, but I can't tell them because I have to protect the guilty.

Today cannot possibly be Sunday. There is no freaking way that I can be going back to class tomorrow. I have an impossibly long to-do list. Not to mention an I-Want list.

I have to read these 3 articles and write a critique on them and about a million other equally boring readings for this one class. Then I should start doing my discussion essay for this other class, even though it's not due for a while. I just don't want it to come and bite me in the ass. Then I should read another act of Pericles, simply because I should stay ahead in that class. Then I have to read these poems for creative writing, so that we can do a workshop over them. Lastly I have to read the General Prologue and the Wife of Bath's tale of the Canterbury Tales. And I need to return something a Radio Shack.

My I-Want list is much better. I want to watch a few discs of my M*A*S*H collection. I want to read the Fountainhead. I want to play some more on my ringtone making software that I just got. I also want that knot in my stomach to go away. But that's not something I can do.

Do you ever just sit there and watch what is happening and see all of the hurt and frustration and futility of action with a situation? I'm sure that's a ridiculous run-on sentence, but I don't care. I don't know how much more of it I can take. I'm only one person. While this is going on, you want to make some drastic action, make a bold statement. But you know it's futile. Maybe you know it's futile because you've already tried and failed, maybe you just know.

I'm about to be more open and honest than I really want to be. But I can't help it. I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of aching. I'm tired of incessantly giving and getting nothing except cruelty in return. I'm tired of feeling inadequate. I'm tired of feeling subhuman. And above all, I'm tired of caring. I would love nothing more than to break this awful cycle. I know that the change must begin with me. But I don't feel strong enough to do it.

I would love to say that big girls don't cry. But they do. Or else I'm just not a big girl, but a little girl. A scared, lonely, hurt little girl.

I don't know what blogs you read, but I found one that I adore. I can't exactly relate to it, but I love it. It's about this woman who has 7 children. It's called Notes From the Trenches. Hearing her stories cracks me up. I would love to have her life. I know she goes through a lot of shit, but she's able to turn it somehow. Maybe that's just my prerogative as a reader. I don't want to overanalyze it. It's a gift that she shares her life with everyone, so I don't want to ruin it for myself. However, it almost makes me want to steal 7 children so that I'd have something to write. I AM NOT going to steal 7 children, but I would love to have 7 children.

Like I said before, there are so many things I could write about, but I have to protect the guilty. I have this one person, whom I constantly allude to (and if you know me, you know who it is), but I can't say their name or be specific about what they've done. Why? Because if by some chance they read this blog, they'll be super-pissed. And other people who just mildly piss me off throughout the day, well, I don't want to put up anything about them because it's just minor irritation and I don't want to start something huge.

I should tackle my to-do list. But I have something to add to your to-do list. I want input. I want to know what you think. I need to know what you think. Give me something. Anything.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

The Good and The Bad

While in college I have had the privilege of experiencing some really good things and I've also experienced some really bad thing.

I've noticed that in smaller organizations, the people are so warm and friendly and they really take the opportunity to know and include each individual. They get to know you as a group and as an individual. I recently received the post of poetry editor for a campus publication. The higherups are so wonderful! They actually listen to what I have to say and they want to get to know me. English majors are supposed to be antisocial, but that doesn't mean we don't get along with other people.

I am convinced now more than ever that I want to be like Dominique from The Fountainhead. Honestly, unless something really strange happens, I think I will always want to be like her. She's strong, but she's human. I guess her strength, to me, comes from how well she hides her weaknesses, hides how she feels.

I wish I could do that. I wish I would do that. It would keep me out of a bit of trouble. But that's neither here nor there.

Um, the bad. I don't know exactly what the bad is for this post. I mostly chose that title because if I had just written "The Good" that would be weird.

I'm too scattered right now to contribute much. I want to read my book.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

My Quest

I think I'm succeeding in my quest. Who knew that it would come naturally, as a matter of course? I am an English major. I am taking 4 English classes this semester and a sociology class, which has promised TOO MUCH reading and writing. There's no way that I can possibly get it all read in time. So I am perpetually showing up to class without having finished my readings. It's kinda exhilerating flying by the seat of my pants. For instance, today I said that I loved something at the ending of this short story. I didn't read it. I just made a movie reference. And it worked.

Hopefully things will become more undone as time progresses.

I got my new phone over the weekend. I'm VERY excited about it. I can download songs onto it and then use them as ring tones. I've been planning who gets what song. Not everyone will get one because there's just not enough space. But the people I most talk to get them. I had grandiose plans of using this Dean Martin song, Daddy's Little Girl, for my dad's cell phone. But it's just not him and me.

Oh yeah! Another mark of disorganization! I'm forgetting to write down things in my planner and on my weekly desk calendar.

I hate Joseph Conrad. Not the person, specifically...But his writing kills me. I hate it. I had to read Heart of Darkness for class in high school. Loathed it! And now in my short story class we're focusing on him for, I think, 3 weeks. It's going to kill me. So, make sure you enjoy this blog because in 3 weeks, I'll be dead.

I kinda hate taking all of those English classes. I haven't read the right books. I feel totally inferior to the people in the class because they've read these amazing books that either I've never read or have never heard of. I'm not sure which case makes me feel worse: not reading a book they mention or having not heard of the author/story they mention.

I wish I had more time in the day because I want to read my own books. I want to finish The Fountainhead. I love the story, but I'm ready to see the lives of the characters be resolved. I think they've been through enough. I think they've hurt themselves enough. And I want to see them be OK because it will assure me that I will be OK. I really relate to these characters, one in particular: Dominique. I wish I could be as strong as she is. I'm doing the same thing as she is in the second part of the book, except she's safer about it. She doesn't care. She might realize later on that she cared the whole time. But presently, she doesn't care, she's not hurt.

I guess that's the trouble with me. I connect too deeply with certain characters in literature. I'm one of those people who cares too much, but wishes she cared too little for the situation. I'm going nowhere. I'm just writing an inner monologue. If you want me to continue expounding my literary life, then let me know, via comment.

Saturday, September 1, 2007


I just spent my first night in my apartment all by myself. I was kinda nervous about it. Not only did I lock the privacy thing on the front door (which I guess keeps even the people having keys from coming in) but I locked the deadbolt on my individual door. I wasn't taking any chances. I also turned off the dryer before going to sleep. Usually my roommate and I have no qualms leaving the dryer on at night, but I was too scared to do it by myself. I woke up refreshed though. Except for the fact that my phone had, once again, mysteriously turned off and so I didn't take my medicine on time.

Hopefully I won't have to worry about it too much longer. I think we might possibly be going to get my put on my mom's cell phone plan today, which means I get a new phone. Of course I'm going to dole out over $100 to get the spiffy kind of phone that I want. But what was babysitting for if not to buy the things I want?

I hate packing to go home. True, I have found an easier method for this year. I commandeered a laundry basket from home to throw my stuff in. But it's awful. I have to think about the things I only have in my apartment and are not at home that I will need. It's really stressful work.

I'm trying to hurry up and eat some breakfast and then start the dishwasher. Because I'm paranoid, I don't want to leave right after I start it. My roommate is coming back to the apartment tomorrow, but I don't want it to have flooded. I know. I'm crazy. I know. These thing don't normally happen. But I don't want to take any chances. I don't usually have such good luck and amazing things have been happening lately and I don't want to ruin it. Serendipity: I love you, but you frighten me. You've been unusually good to me lately and I don't want to lose you.

Oh! So remember how the other day I was complaining about technology and creepy people. Well, there's some "guy" that's been texting me and he sent me a dirty picture that I didn't appreciate. He won't stop. And he's blaming me, saying that I'm not giving him a chance to know me and we could have something. I know what you might be saying: turn that S.O.B. into the police. Well, I don't have enough information on him to do it. I have what could be his first name. I have where he could have graduated from high school. And I have a cell phone number. But the police are "too busy" to take care of stuff like that. I guess ticketing people for running yellow lights is more important. I've also heard that unless he outright threatens me, there's nothing they can actually do. Oh how I wish one could block cell phone numbers like one can block screen names on AIM.

Just started the dishwasher. I'm curious about whether or not my roommate will empty it when she hets back on Sunday or if I'll end up doing it on Monday. It's not that it's a huge inconvenience, but I'm the one that ALWAYS empties the dishwasher.

Alright. Well, wish me luck!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Blah! (I think)

I think things are blah right now. I woke up at 4:20 to watch the lunar eclipse. It was kinda cool. But then I saw raccoons or opossums going through the dumpster by my car and it scared me. I wasn't standing too terribly far from them. I was on my third floor porch, but those little buggers could probably scale the wall, right? Anyway, I was on constant look out for them. I was prepared to make a mad dash inside to avoid getting bit. Then I made my possibly fatal mistake. I ran inside to go to the restroom (it was taking a LONG time to happen!) and I didn't close the door all the way. On my way back inside, after the eclipse, I became wary of the possibility that while I was in the bathroom, something could have sneaked inside and hid under my bed. I really wish I'd had someone to look under my bed for me. My mom just sorta laughed at me and called me ridiculous. But I think that one can never be too cautious if a big needle in the stomach can come into play (that IS how they treat rabies, right?).

In other news, my creative writing professor made an impossible assignment. I have to think of something and then all of the things it could stand for in a hypothetical poem. But she made the mistake of being like, "Food. Dessert. Apple pie...." So that totally got me on a linear track. And I can't get off of it. She said to just make sure I dealt with images, not abstractions. Does that mean I can go "Tree. He stood strong like a mighty oak tree. And he smelled like wood. And his coloring was brown with a little green, though in the fall it changed to red, yellow, and orange and finally in the winter, he was just brown"? I wish!

I think that technology is a double-edged sword. It's good because it allows you to learn and stuff like that. But it also allows freaky people to find out information about you. For example some so-called friend of mine gave out my number to a guy. This random guy starts sending messages to my phone and wants me to meet up with him. He can't even tell me who gave him my phone number. It's too creepy for comfort.

Thursday, August 23, 2007


The senior year of high school is a cruel joke. It's a cruel joke on my roommate and I because when we were juniors of high school we fell in love with freshmen. And four years later, they are seniors. This is the last time we will watch them play their first football game of the season. This is the last time we will see them do anything as children. This year. This is their last year of being children. And it makes me really sad to think that.

I now know how a parent feels to watch their child graduate and move on. Though we have been part of their lives for only 4 years, they've changed so much. They've evolved. Honestly, you must admit that freshmen are really just babies. They don't have personalities or distinguishing features. But they develop. They make bad decisions and you love them all the more for it because they're getting closer. They're on the cusp.

It's August. And my roommate and I have to begin a year-long process of letting go of our high schoolers. Next year they will be freshmen again. Maybe we will love them again. Maybe we and they have changed so much over the last four years that we do not recognize each other in that new light.

And I know that each day we, my roommate and I, drive back to our apartment from home, we will cry. We will cry because it will be that much longer until the next time we see them.

This post has been an unfortunate occurrence because I have now written myself into such a sadness that I don't think I can read my assignments for tomorrow.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Almost A Week

I haven't written in forever! But I've been VERY busy so, please forgive me.

First of all, I moved into my new apartment. I have already mentioned that I was nervous about it because my roommate has already been living there. To my surprise (and relief) things have gone very smoothly. I think. I don't know. Things have been a little weird the past two days. We haven't really spoken. It mostly started when she went out with her friends, most of whom I don't think really like me. Let me add that I know all of these girls. We all grew up together, but I went down a different path than them. I don't know if they don't like me or if they're just treading lightly for some reason.

I also started my classes. I wasn't looking forward to class actually starting, because who is? I LOVE my classes. I know it's going to be a lot of reading, too much reading sometimes. But I think it's going to be good for me as a writer. My creative writing professor said that reading, understanding, and discussing poetry actually helps one become a better writer. I'm all for that. But I have a bit of a problem really liking poetry that doesn't rhyme. I know! Bad! It's true though. I like the flow when the words rhyme. I think that a lot of poetry without rhyme is like writing a paragraph and then hitting the "enter" key at random intervals. I need to get over it.

I'm a bit hacked off at my apartment people. Apparently I only get so much internet space per day. They are part of some network and the complex get so many things that you use when you download a page and each resident only gets 500 of those things each day. Maybe they're bits or bytes. I'm not sure. But I only get 500, which is freaking me out because I don't want to be cut off from the Internet world. I like reading blogs and the news. I like writing on my blog. It's fun.

I'll bet that at this point you're thinking I need a hobby. Maybe this is my hobby.

I was at a meeting today and someone made an interesting comment. Here's the background: my mom constantly complains about my anti-social tendencies. The comment this girl made is that English majors tend to be anti-social. This made me feel really good! The problem isn't me...it's part of my chosen path. All artists must suffer. I am an artist now. I feel so validated.

So my friend that I wrote about last week kinda gets the shaft. I know that she has read my blog, I don't think she regularly checks it though. She gets the shaft in that when we message privately, she ends up hearing a lot of what I put in my blog. Like my recap of the other day. She had already heard most of my comments about the cookbook. Oh well...

I have more I want to say, but I don't want to write too much. Until later!

Friday, August 17, 2007


Well, that's a picture of me. It's not the best in the world. It's from last spring. I was in my dorm and I was bored, so I decided to take pictures on my photobooth program. I would put up that picture on my profile, but I had some difficulties doing it. And I think I want to use a more recent picture of me. But I don't have any, so you'll have to wait until I take some. I should be a couple of days or weeks or months.

I really wish I took more pictures. But I don't know what to photograph. And I don't want to be the awkward person that always demands their friends pose for a picture. Then again, my friends are at the age where they want to look perfect or at least decent for their pictures. That's not unreasonable, but it certainly takes away the aspect of candid photography. I tried to put together a photo album. There are large gaps. I mostly have pictures from dances or plays or holidays or costumes. But other than that, nothing. My mom says it's because I didn't want her to take my picture. And that is true. There are so many moments in my life that I have ruined by being embarrassed and now I don't have any memories of them, except me being a pain in the ass. But that is another post or two in itself.

This will sound like a strange request, but if you're reading my blog, please make some sort of a comment. It doesn't have to be everytime, by any means. But I would like to know if anyone is reading this thing. And most writers do want some words of encouragement. Or at least this writer does.

Well, tomorrow at 8, I can officially check in to my first apartment and move in. I'm kinda excited. I'm a little nervous because my roommate has been living there all summer, so she's had a while to make the apartment hers. We each have our own rooms and bathrooms, but we share the kitchen and living room. I'm sure there will be some minor squabbles, but hopefully we'll have more good days than bad.

I have a million and one things that I want to say, but they all seem wildly inappropriate for a blog. Not like they're dirty thoughts, but they just won't make too much sense to anyone else. I guess I could give it a try, but I want to know who all is reading my blog before I spill deep, dark secrets.

School starts Monday. I cannot get over that. Last year I moved into my dorm like a week before school started. I guess it was closer to 2 weeks. (I remember the first night I spent in my dorm. It was a good night, involving a person I need to get over and forget. Too bad it's not that easy, isn't it?) Anyway, I had a lot of time to get settled into my room and get used to the place before school started. I didn't have to spend my sleepless night as the one right before the first day of school. I'll admit it, I could spend Saturday night up there. But I don't want to. I want to come home, spend the night in my bed, make sure I have everything, and go to church on Sunday, then drive back.

The drive back is going to be miserable. The drive back is always miserable. Last year it was when I did a lot of my crying. Inevitably, the weekend wouldn't work out like I wanted, and it would make me sad. Turn over a new leaf, right? Begin this year with a different, better outlook, right? OK. Fine. You get into my head and make it better. I can't do it.

This post is going nowhere. I think right now I'm providing background information so that you can see my transformation from perfect (or nearly so) to normal.

Anyway, bottom line, if you read this blog, I would appreciate it if you would leave a comment. Thanks.

Thursday, August 16, 2007


Yesterday was my last day of babysitting. I felt kinda bad for being short-tempered with the kids on and off all summer (although I didn't have any choice) so I bought them lunch and some drinks. Not one single thank you. None. Even at 5, I would remember to thank my mom for buying me things, let alone someone else. Oh well. That's over and done.

Today I had a blast! I hung out with my friend and we went all over the place. It was nice to find someone who shared a love for post-it notes. I cannot tell you how much I actually spent on post-it notes, but it was quite a lot. I mean, I need the magnetic kind to stick on the fridge for shopping lists. And I need the lined ones for to-do lists. And I also need the little notebook that was post-it for class, or something like that. And then there was the calendar. The weekly calendar that was broken up into 4 time slots during the day and also came with lots of little post-its.

I think everyone starts off the year with the best intentions of being organized. Unfortunately, with college, I have 2 opportunities each year to start off with the best of intentions at being organized. I want be. But then again, I don't want to be organized. I want to be the girl that walks in late. The girl that people are a little astounded when she shows up on time. I want to be the girl that has her to-do list a little smudged with something random, but interesting. I think it's because my life has been too organized and too put together.

Then I bought the 1953 edition of the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook. There is a note saying that this is an exact copy and the measurements and food guidelines are different now. There were also lots of little helpful hints. Like how to cook for 150 and other useful information like that. Let's just say that my friend and I had a BLAST going through the cookbook. I wonder if the recipes have stayed the same over the years. But the funny thing is that I am SO EXCITED about the cookbook. It's the highlight purchase of my day.

The cookbook reminded me of a blog post I read. In it, the lady was talking about how she wanted some gardening clogs and to be able to justify buying them, she took up gardening. I think I am taking up cooking just to get that cookbook. More than likely it will just sit in the kitchen or my room and not really get used. And inevitably, someday when I get married, I'll get 100 copies of the new version of the cookbook. But I like this cookbook. It provides a good source of jokes.

I think Gilmore Girls has ruined me for cooking and being the perfect housewife. I think about it all and it seems fine, fun even. But then I get to looking at it and I can't help but laugh. And that's not so good because these women were really dedicated to their families. I wonder which generation has the skewed priorities.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


You don't know me. I'm new here. I'm new at this whole blog thing. But it will be good for me. You see, I want to major in creative writing. Yet I have never written anything. Ever. OK. I take it back. I wrote a few dark poems in the inevitable Middle School Dark Ages. But other than that, nothing really.

So, imagine my surprise when my advisor told me that he submitted my information to the OSU Literary Journal (-ish thing). I have to write something and publish it. Granted the only copies will be the one the participants get (maybe) and the lone copy in the library that no one will ever look at.

Anyway, I thought that my blog could be sort of creative journaling. Because I have always said that there are some events in my life that would be an interesting movie or book. But it's the everyday mundane things that need sprucing up a bit, which I am pretty good at doing (at least in my mind).

There are some things you need to know about me for this post to make sense. I am a nanny for three children. At least I was this summer (today is my last day). I haven't had the best of luck because these children don't have much discipline. And they don't really know how to sit still and behave.

Thoughts I Had at Work:

Why did I agree to this job?

How can these kids [they are two 5 year olds and one 8 year old (who causes most of the problems)] be so helpless?! It's truly a wonder I don't have to go into the bathroom with them! I'm pretty sure I was quite self-sufficient at their age. By the time I was 8 I was staying at home by myself. [More sidenotes: they are actually almost 6 and almost 9, but they all act like they're 2. Possibly because they've been raised strictly by nannies (Yes, I'm Number 6)]

This so-called "kid-friendly" house has an awful microwave! It is so not condusive to popcorn, which is a staple!

Is it sad that I judge the quality of the Batman movies on the basis of whether or not George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell are in them? We're watching Batman Returns (Michael Keaton). I think the one I'm looking for is Batman and Robin. [I just did some research. He was in ONE Batman movie. Batman and Robin]

Today is the first time that I've actually taken up my boss on the whole help yourself to the food offer. The pantry is a mess. Because it is a mess, there are like 2 open boxes of the same granola bars, 2 open boxes of crackers, and so on. And since they have three kids, there are always multiple boxes purchased. So I figure that it doesn't really matter if I cause the opening of two boxes of Fruit by the Foot.

I find the easiest way to make the kids behave while I let them do something cool is to make ridiculous threats, like "I'll string you up by your thumbs if you make a mess in the back of my car" or "I'll string you up by your thumbs if you make a mess of your popcorn." Yeah, I know they aren't supposed to eat in the living room, but honestly! They want to watch a movie, that's the only working DVD player and they won't fight when the watch the movie and they're hungry.

Kids. They baffle me by the stupid things they do and think are amusing.

Does this job make me not want children? Not really. I do want children. Whoever I marry is just going to have to put up with it. I am an only child. I want, need, a big family.

I remember why I took this job. I get paid really well. My nights and weekends are open. It's a fairly easy job, I mainly referee fights. And I can ignore the kids while I read or write something.

I hope I didn't bore you with the minute details of my life. Yesterday was a long day and I had nothing else to do with those kids. And then I'll be so busy being Miss Involved in College that I will hardly be able to write one sentence on my blog. But it will be an interesting sentence. I promise. So, please, tune in.