Make over overhaul

I’ve been watching a lot of reality TV lately. But I don’t like the shows with a cast of recurring people. I prefer the shows were people enter another person’s life, make a drastic change, and then leave never to return again. These shows make me want to redesign my life. Sadly, I don’t have the money to redo my wardrobe. And because I’m living in someone else’s house, I probably shouldn’t rearrange the furniture layout. That leaves me very few chances to emulate the people I see on TV. So, I’m going to wash my car for the second time this week complete with going over the front dash with q-tips. I’m getting so good at cleaning my car, I think I might have a reality show on my hands. I’ll call it Driving You Crazy when you have absolutely nothing to do, I’ll do something that doesn’t need to be done: Detailed, pointless cleaning.   

One hundred

When I started blogging my goals were pretty big: world domination, publication, free puppies. I was also a lot stricter on myself. Over the last months, though, I have really learned to enjoy the online writing process. I’m no longer so rigid on posting. I’ve also learned that what I really want from blogging is the freedom to write and the illusion that people are reading. So, here is my 100^th post. In elementary school, after the first hundred days of classes we all brought in one hundred items as a visual reminder of our accomplishment. I still remember the white sweat shirt with one hundred red buttons hot glued all over. Things were a lot easier in elementary school. But a few of the perks have remained. Specifically, celebrating the big one hundred. It’s a big deal... I promise.    

Sappy

I drove to see my cousin earlier today. We had a great time but the trip across the city was awful. The past week my car ahs been parked in the driveway. Turns out, the tree next to the drive is seeping goo. Not to big of a deal, since I have windshield wipers and wiper fluid. So, I washed my windshield and drove on. It wasn’t until the freeway that I realized, I have a back windshield. A back windshield covered in sap. Sticky-oh-Lord-I-can’t-see-anyone-behind-me-sap. Luckily, I was able to calmly exit and find a gas station where I could clean my window before I panicked and/or killed people. I guess its good that I now know I need to wash my back windshield if I park anywhere near the giant tree in the front of the house. And that’s no more annoying than watching a geography bee... Trees are annoying.   

Sick pup

I own a very smart dog. The most difficult part about being so far away from home is being away from my adorable genius dog. This month, to distract me from the relentless job search and Shamrock-less life, I’ve been house sitting and dog sitting. The dog is cute, I’ll give him that. He’s cuddly enough and has long hair like my border collie. But he’s not very smart. He’s a notorious not very smart breed: cocker spaniel. But worse than his inability to understand basic commands, he has the dog version of Prader-Willi syndrome. Have you ever heard of that? Its this sad thing were, essentially, the victim has no ability to know when they are satiated. They’re always hungry. Every time I make eye contact with this dog, he runs to his food bowl and looks at me with giant stupid dog eyes and whines. Even if five seconds earlier I fed him his dinner and he ate it all. Every time I stand up to do anything, this dog runs to the kitchen and sits in front of the cabinet where his food is and whines... Its frustrating. Now I don’t want to downplay the horribleness of this syndrome... but seriously. This dog has no self awareness. He’s driving me crazy. Its just another reminder of how amazing my dog is

Tiny consolation

Today, I got my very first rejection email. One of the jobs I applied for have decided to “go in a different directions” and will “no longer be considering my application at this time”. It might sound like I’m extravagating when I say I’ve applied for a lot of jobs. But I have. I’m averaging about three a day, and I started May 23. And today I got my very first rejection. Its actually very validating. For the first time in this job search I know that someone read my resume... or at least read enough of it to find my email address. And they took the time to send me an email letting me know to forget it. Because of that email my hopes are right where they belong, low. But that’s okay. I’m okay with it because I know something. Let’s hope this is the first in a long line of rejects. And one perfect “please be the next young billionaire and here’s the keys to the company... I mean your jet.” Thank you one brave rejection sender I now have realistic hopes.

Unusual productivity

Today I had to wake up at five to drive my friend to the airport. Despite knowing I had to wake-up so early I didn’t get to bed until around two. Surprisingly, though, I was able to take here to the airport come home and actually accomplish things today. No, I haven’t found a job.

But I did go for two walks on a beautiful trail nearby. I made spaghetti for dinner. And a saw a chipmunk. A real life chipmunk. Just running in the lawn being ridiculously chipmunky. Seriously, I’ve never seen a wild chipmunk. They’re one of those animals that I know exist, but can’t visualize. Like armadillos or chameleons. Now I can put chipmunks in perspective. My goal this month (minus finding a lucrative career) is to take a picture of my little woodland friend. Or maybe a video. Yeah, that would be perfect. Then I can always remind myself of how great the mysterious chipmunk is even after I move into the chipmunk free city.   

Preventive strike

I’m about to start a month long house sitting job, so I’m gathering my supplies. I really want to have some DVDs to entertain me when there is nothing to watch on TV. I could watch a television show, fall in love with characters, become completely addicted, and then spiral into a depression once I have to leave the cable TV zone. Sounds unrealistic? You obviously don’t know me.

I was a high school student when I fell in love with my first regularly scheduled scripted television show: Angel. Then, the show was cancelled. Not a big deal to sane individuals. But for me, I couldn’t stand it. I stopped watching all my scheduled TV shows. I refused to let myself become attached again just to have a show ripped away. To this day, I prefer reality shows because they lack plat lines that can turn into cliff hangers which can cause years of irreversible anxiety. So, tonight, I’m watching hockey and scouring my roommates DVD collection. After all, I doubt anyone would want me to revert to my post-Angel state... let’s just stay it isn’t healthy for one person to have that much hate within them.  

3D dilemma

I’m taking a quick break from my house sitting job to hang out with my best friend. He works the most amazing shift ever: eleven at night to seven in the morning. This helps me with my insomnia, I finally have no reason to stay up. But it does make going out and having fun a little difficult. For two days we have been trying to go see a movie. The problem is, we sleep during the matinee time and the night movies, well they all seem to be in 3D.

I don’t like paying for 3D. If I have the option, I don’t watch the 3D version. Mainly, its because I can’t see the cool (so I’m told) effects. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this problem of mine, but I’m legally blind in one eye. And my other is perfect. This means, I lack depth perception, right side peripheral vision, and the ability to see 3D movies. But I still have to shell out thirteen bucks. No thank you. So, we haven’t been to the movies yet. Maybe tomorrow the movie theater industry will offer a night time 2D showing of this year’s Summer blockbuster. Or we could try waking up before four... doubt it.

Tan lines

I’ve spent the last couple of days house sitting for some friends. It’s a sweet gig: cable TV, stocked fridge, cuddle puppy. What I wasn’t expecting during this house sitting job, however, was the prospect of doing actual work. I didn’t know that my friends had built a home with the intent of building a jungle in Georgia. Every day I have to water a couple dozen houseplants. Then I get to water the entire back yard which has conveniently been transformed into a garden oasis. And next week, I get to mow the lawn... seriously? I guess I shouldn’t complain. I could be paying rent or living on someone’s couch. And in the pass three days I’ve gotten more sun than I have in years. Now I just need to find out how to word “can watch a dog and take care of plants good” in a way that will bulk up my resume.   

Still getting my sea legs

As I spend another weekend unemployed I’m reminded how much I miss a routine. My sleep schedule has been nearly opposite that of a “normal” person. My first step to routine rehabilitation is definitely getting myself to bed before two in the morning. I’m aiming at weaning myself off all night job hunting computer fests by going to bed earlier and earlier. And in order to make going to bed worth it, I’ll be needing to wake up before noon too... Sleeping is just so fun. But how can I have a legitimate job and get seventeen hours of sleep? Age old question really. At least I recognize my problem. I heard that’s the first step. Now, someone should rewarded me with a job.

Toughest thing

Being away from my dog is always the single hardest thing about not being at home. I knew leaving this time would be just as difficult, but I wasn't planning on the added difficulty of my roommate's dog. This dog is just so... not my dog. Besides the obvious fact that this tiny, tailless, short haired dog could never be as completely cuddlisious as my boarder collie lab mutt/ giant ball of energetic love fuzz, there's something about his mere presence. He reminds me that I don't have my dog. And not having my dog is sadder than not having a job.  Argh! Stupid apartment living, face-pace lifestyle that makes having an athletic dog non-practical. I guess this pain is what the country singers have been trying to warn me about for years.  

Hibernation

A wise person once told me that the month after graduation will cause even the most prepared ex-student to revert into an infantile state. Apparently, the post-grad needs about thirteen hours of sleep each day in order to function. Of course by function I mean sit around and lament the fact they have nothing to live for... or maybe that’s just me.

I hope that this ungracious period doesn’t last a whole month. But it will definitely take some time to get into a routine. I’m not used to living six hours away from my mother, to being jobless, or to lacking a daily purpose. I’ve already taken some steps to becoming an adult instead of an awkward, emotionally distraught bum. My resume is floating around the city and my blogging should become consistent again.

I know that, eventually, things will work themselves out. My body will recover from the shock of graduating; I’ll fully join society. But for now I play the “please give me a job” game, save my money, and call my mother... three times a day.   

Dead zone

Before I head out into the real world, I'm spending sometime at my mother's. Sadly, this means I'm in the terrible world of no Internet or cable tv. But, I'm not complaining. I'll get back into blogging once I settle into Atlanta and consistent Internet. Until then, assume I'm having a fantasic time sleeping, snuggling with my dog, and have repetitive conversations with my mother.

End game

I have a college degree. And I'm happy that I'm too busy spending time with my friends to blog. Maybe next week I'll be able to put into words how I feel. Now, I'm content spending time with my friends and listening to sappy songs. 

Heartbreak hotel

As I get ready to spend my last night in my college dorm, I’m an emotional mess. The posters are off my wall, my clothes are packed, and college is over. Luckily, I have a great day to look forward to tomorrow. The only thing standing in my way of graduation now is one night of sleep. The dorms are mostly empty, since all the non-graduating students cleared out yesterday, making this night less like a usual college night and more like a night in awkward hotel. A hotel with a bunch of empty rooms and uncontrollably cold air conditioning. A hotel room I would actually never stay in. It’s sad. I didn’t think I’d miss the yelling and booming bass from the younger students’ dorms... but I do. Stupid graduation making stupid pointless things full of emotions and point.

Puppy face

I moved home a car full of stuff two nights ago. My adorable puppy was happy to see me, but more happy to see all my things. It's like she knows that I need my stuff to be there in order to stay there a long time. I don't know how to tell her I'm going to bring all my stuff home and then leave... for pretty much ever. I think I'll just quietly leave one day over the summer and not tell her.
I know. She's a dog. But I know she has feelings. When she was sleeping on my feet the other night she kept have little puppy dreams. What if she is having nightmares about how horrible I am always leaving her? It scares me.
But more than just being terrified that I'm breaking my dog's heart, I'm terrified that in two weeks I'll be hundreds of miles from my family. I'll have to buckle down and get a job. And I won't have my puppy to keep me company at night. I guess it's one of the many sacrifices I have to make in order to be an adult. Why does it seem impossible to find a job that involves a ton of money and playing fetch all day?

Jobs I wouldn't mind working

Chalky candy heart message writer

Professional tweeter for Obama

Voice over  guy for movie trailers

Balloon artist

Dog walker

Cartoon Band-Aid designer

Anything that involves Legos

This is it?

I’ve taken my tests; I’ve turned in my essays; and I sold back my books. I’m done. All I have to do is finish packing my room and walk across the stage. I wish I had ended my school year with some sort of bang. But I guess ending the  school year slowly and with mediocre grades is good enough.  Now, I just need to find a job. I thought graduating was supposed to be the difficult part...

Not worth your time

As graduation looms... is that the right word? Isn't that what you use to make rugs? Anyway, as graduation approaches, I'm more and more focused on finding a job. You might remember in an earlier post when I had an amazing job interview... I ask that you read a few days after that when I had amazing surgery. Basically, those two weeks were a pain fueled state of confusion. I'm sure I royally screwed-up the interview. And I, quite obviously, didn't get the job. So, I've returned to the front lines of resume sending and application completing. Today I sent one out for a job I would really enjoy having. The website looked colorful and in the pictures, people were smiling. Sadly, as soon as I sent my cover letter and resume it became clear that this might not be a super happy place to work for. The automated response for my application sent to my email simply stated: don't call us. If we want you we'll call you, eventually. Really? That's nice. Maybe I should apply again, this time making sure to put in my cover letter that I am willing to send personalized replies to all applicants and actually act like a human with human emotions. After all, the company is plainly lacking in that field.

Everyone and thier mothers

Mother's day has always been a personal favorite of mine when it comes to holidays. Mainly because all I have ever had to do is give my mom a nice card and call my grandmother. But today, I was shocked by the amount of attention this minimally attentive holiday received. Where was all the mother traffic coming from? Facebook. I should have been suspicious earlier this week when people started changing profile pictures. But when my news feed blew up with well wishes, I was shocked by how many "world best mothers" there are. I was also shocked by the fact that, apparently, every body's mother has a Facebook. Now I've been friend requested by a few of my buddies' mothers but I didn't realize how many mothers there were. So, I have made a pledge and I ask my friends to join me. As soon as you have offspring old enough to social network, stop social networking. That simple. After all, isn't it easier to live vicariously? 

Pizza party

Today around campus I have seen about seven pizza boxes. And then I got a to thinking. Am I allowed to eat pizza every single day after I graduate? Sure, after graduation I'll spend a couple months years being super poor, but by some adult magic unspeakable power will Ramen noodles and greasy pizza be off limits? More than likely, my diet will be even more immature. Plus side, though, I won't  be sharing a living space with a hundred like minded immature college students. So the trash can in the hallway won't be perpetually filled with pizza boxes and noodle cups and I might be able to convince myself that I eat like a grown-up. However, that might be.

Working for the weekend

With the storms and rain on a temporary hiatus here in Kentucky, my school was able to hold a successful farewell festival and physical challenge filled messy competition. I enjoyed watching students throw water balloons and run the inflatable obstacle course. But, like a lot of the other end of the year activities, it wasn’t something I enjoy participating in. I love watching people make fools of themselves, but I don’t want to partake. That doesn’t mean I’m not having fun. Some of my favorite memories are watching other people have fun. That is fun for me. It is not fun to have people throw whipped cream in my hair. Seriously... why is that fun? But despite the nastiness of a few water balloons and dessert toppings today was a good day. My last weekend as a college student has started, and its good so far. I just wish I hadn’t had to wash my hair... twice.    

Let’s eat cake

Today was my last class as an undergraduate. It is over. After seventeen straight years of school, I am finally done with classes. I might someday decide to go to graduate school or take a class at a community center, but the streak has been broken. I have three finals to finish and the actual graduation ceremony, but I’m no longer a student. As if graduating wasn’t scary enough, but I’ve lost my occupation as well. I guess I should focus on trying to find a job to replace my student standing. But, not today. Today I’ve completed my last day of classes. I’m going to call that a good enough accomplishment.

These will embarrass Susan

This Sunday is Mother’s Day. So, here are a few actual conversations I’ve had with my mother.

After telling my mother I no longer wanted to go to school to be an astronaut

Mom: “Sagan, are you building a secret rocket?”

Me: “Like a rocket ship to fly in space?”

Mom: “Yeah, are you building one?”

Me: “No... should I?”

Mom: “Would you tell me if you ever built one?”

Me: “I’m never going to build a rocket ship, Mom.”

Mom: “You’re building a rocket ship aren’t you?”

Me: “Hannah and I are going to a swing competition.”

Mom: “Sagan, you can’t dance. You don’t even have a dance. And I never see you practice.”

Me: “A swing competition is two speech tournaments held on one day in one place.”

Mom: “Stop lying. You can’t dance; I’m not taking you to the mall.”

Me: “It’s for school.”

Mom: “Well take off that pant suit and find a dress you can swing in.”

After telling my mom about a bad dream where I yelled at her

Mom: “I don’t know why you would yell at me.”

Me: “It was a dream.”

Mom: “I would still appreciate an apology.”

Me: “I’m sorry I yelled at you in my dream.”

Mom: “I don’t believe you. Stop coming into my dreams.”

Can't rent fish forks in Kentucky

During my sophomore year I was rewarded a scholarship that came with a snazzy blazer and the title of presidential scholar. Tomorrow is my last event as a presidential scholar. That means I’ll be turning in my blazer tomorrow. I know that I would never wear my navy blue blazer anyway, but I will miss it. But losing my jacket isn’t the worse part of the last event. The event is a fancy dinner party with the president of the university and dean of students. That’s not a big deal, considering I’ve been text messaging the both of them for years, but the big deal is that this dinner is supposed to train the scholars on how to conduct themselves at a fancy dinner. I can’t wait to learn which forks to use, but I feel like someone should have taught me these things a couple of years ago. Let’s face it, now that I’m graduating what are the chances that I’ll be dining with dignitaries? Sure even as a scholar I didn’t go to fancy dinners, but my chances will definitely decrease after graduation.    

These glasses have no lenses

First day of the last week of classes is almost over. I’m emotionally stable, but the stress of research papers is building. The most stressful part of my last two papers is the fact that I will never know what I make on them. I will turn in my papers on the last day of class. By the time the teacher has them graded, I’ll be preparing to walk across the graduation stage. So, I’ll see my report card but, unless of course I waste my precious time emailing my instructor, I’ll never see the scores on my final paper. This makes me want to try even less. Just six more pages and I’ll be out the door. I need to focus. Looks like I’ll be spending the rest of my first day of the last week of classes in the library. I don’t need anything in the library, but maybe the professor will walk in and actually think I’m dedicated. Looking smart helps people be smart... right?

Let the games begin

Today was the first day of graduation related activities. The school held its annual honors convocation. I’ve attended this event for the past four years, but this convocation was different because, as a graduating senior, I wore my cap and gown. Something about being in academic dress makes any convocation more memorable. I even got to sit next to one of my best friends. Throughout the ceremony I kept having the strangest experiences of déjà vu. After spending four years thinking about graduating, seeing my best friend sitting next to me in her gown seemed so natural. Now, I just have to get through one week of classes and finals before I can experience graduation for real. I’m nervous as all get out, but I can’t wait to see everyone in their unflattering, wrinkled gowns.

Hell week

After one royal wedding birthday party extravaganza, an after party, six person slumber party, and an eight a.m. wake-up call I’m ready for a break. Sadly, there isn’t one in my near future. I haven’t been able to take any mindless TV breaks or sleep for fourteen hour stretches. But, I’m okay with this. I’m dedicated to my last week of undergraduate classes. I plan on going to each of my last six classes. I’m even going to participate in my online class chat. I want to go to every dinner and lunch and even every ungodly early breakfast. I might sit outside for a few hours. I don’t think the teachers understand that there is just so much seniors want to do during the last week of classes. Turning in two research papers and starting final reviews are not what I want to do. But I guess having a relaxing ending to a stressful four years of school would be inconsistent after all.    

Busiest Weekend

My last full week of college classes start Monday. That means, this weekend is the busiest of the year. First there is the amazing birthday party. Saturday night is the school's inaugural ball. And Sunday is the first event in the graduation process: honors convocation. I'm pretty excited about all of these things. But, sadly, I'm also way too busy. Sure I'm excited about wearing pretty dresses and hanging out with all my friends, but I still need to write a couple papers and study for my finals. I just wish I had more time... On the plus side though, I'm pretty sure that even if I fail the rest of my assignments this year, I'll still graduate!

Last word

Tonight is the last issue of the school paper for the semester. That would make it my last issue ever. Of course, I have writer's block. I don't know what to say. Do I talk about my old articles? How about the time our old editor made us listen to the same song fifteen times in a row? Do I mention all the friends I made through the paper? Or do I reflect on the fact that I'm completely lost with no clue as to what I'm doing in three weeks and all I wish was that I could go back in time and write for another year?
I've decided to just write junk about my feelings. It should be just as lame as my first article... so full circle, right?

Things I am not proud of

I consider "reality TV star" a viable career choice
My mother did all my grade school art projects
I cry at seven distinct parts in the movie Mulan
I set my two pet gerbils free... inside a dumpster
Crying babies give me goosebumps
I am terribly lazy
I never learned to use scissors
My favorite Justice League member is Aquaman

Work is difficult

Three of my favorite people have had great work related experiences these past couple of days. I’m so happy for them. Just the idea of having a reliable source of income makes giddy. Actually achieving employment well, that makes you a superhero in my books. I’m sure I’ll become more serious about my own job search in a few weeks. Adding become-an-adult-with-a-fulltime-job to my list of things I need to do before graduation is just too much. Instead, I’m just going to work on attending my classes, writing some papers, planning senior events, and partying with my friends for the (maybe, but probably not) last time with all my college friends. Besides, having a job makes the whole growing up thing a little too real for me. I much rather be a poor college student even after I have a degree. I just hope my parents still send me care packages.

Lucky eleven

I have eleven more classes left before graduation. With so few classes it should be easy for me to actually attend. See, academic consistency has never been one of my traits. Even in grade school, I would regularly take personal days. I carried these habits on to college. If I’m having a bad day, or if I need to work on an assignment, I’ll skip class. This semester has been the worse. Despite wanting to savor every last moment of college, classes included, my attendance has been horrible. I’ve missed at least one class each week since the second week of classes. I’m not proud of this fact, and I really worked to make myself go to class... but I’m a little lazy. And now, I have eleven classes to make up for the weeks worth of classes I’ve missed. I’m pretty overly unrealistic about being able to end on a high note. I guess I can focus on the fact that I’ll never have to go to another class after these two weeks. But, then again, I’ll never be able to skip another college class again.  

Bye-bye bedroom

Tonight is my last night home. I'm going back to school tomorrow and I won't return until after graduation. I wish I knew what coming home will feel like as a full-fledged adult. Right now, I'm still a student depending on my folks for insurance and a roof. But this time next month, I won't be depending on them, I'll just be a guest. I hope when I become a guess and not a resident I won't feel too weird. I know my dog is probably looking forward to me leaving for a while. As much as she loves me, after my third day home sue starts to miss having my bed to herself. And, I guess, in a few more weeks, it will be her bed for keeps and I'll have my own bed in my own apartment. I think we're both ridiculously excited about it.

Soggy Saturday

Good ole Kentucky weather is at it again. Today, along with our funnel clouds and flooding my hometown was graced with hail. The first time I experienced hail when I was in middle school. Little marble sized started pinging off our roof. My older brother and I had never experienced hail before. Obviously, my brother ran in the front yard to collect some of the magical ice crystals. After all, how else will we learn about science? Just as he scooped up some stones to walk back in baseball sized hail started plummeting down. Luckily, he made it in. Sadly, our mom' car lost it's windshield.
I'm a little terrified of hail. I don't want my car hurt. I love my car... Also, innocent people and homes and trees blah blah blah don't damage them blah... But my car could be hurt! To help ease my fear I've employed one of my favorite techniques. Instead of thinking of hail in the terms the weatherpeople use: 3" diameter, golfball sized; I like to think of hail as gumball sized or jellybean sized and my favorite: baby hedgehog diameter. Lying to myself always seems to make me feel better.

Bacon nation

After a long day of doing nothing, my friend and I decide to top it off with maple bacon sundaes. They were better than expected. But instead of blogging I think I'm going to go be horribly ill.

Postal nostalgia

I mailed my graduation announcements today. I limited my list to aunts and uncles in order to keep me from being overwhelmed with filling out envelopes. So, I mailed thirteen letters today. I went to a real post office and talked to an actual mail-person and bought real stamps. I even put the stamps on the envelops myself. The whole process reminded me of a simpler time: standing anxiously in a long line while my mom shipped care packages. The old post office even looks the same as I remember with only one big difference. I was looking forward to sorting and slipping my announcements into the different mail slots for local and out of town mail. As i kid i loved pretending I was a postal worker as i sorted out our mail. But now, there is only one slot. So, my thirteen announcements which will go out to seven states and two countries went into one slot. The post office needs to realize that I am completely willing to do part of their job and use their services more. All they have to do is put in different slots for each state and country and let me pretend I'm an employee. I like to feel like I'm contributing. That's why I like Subway so much. Mmhhh now I want a footlong. 

Things I’ve “inherited” from my mother

Insatiable love of Sunkist soda

Possible magical bird talking abilities

Allergies... tons of freaking allergies  

Unhealthy love of peanut m&m’s

Awkward greenish brown poop colored eyes

Inability to cook

An affinity towards the color blue

Irrational paranoia

Amazing diorama building skills

Becoming a stupid adult of stupid not-cool adultiness

I’m one more day and one more class away from Easter Break. This break serves as a beginning of the very end. After Easter there will be eight days of classes between me and final exams. I have two research papers and three tests before I can graduate. That’s it. I’m still having a difficult time realizing and accepting that I’m going to graduate. But having a checklist of what I need to do and seeing that the checklist is so short makes things believable. But with this actualization of graduation comes the hit-me-across-the-face realization that I’m going to have to find a job. A real job. That pays in real money. Because I'll have to pay real bills. Maybe if I just stay one more semester... Four years ago I definitely didn’t expect that college would be such an anchor. I spent 18 years without college, why is leaving feeling so difficult?       

Purple Parasaurolophus

Yesterday I received this season’s first birthday present: nine pairs of brightly colored dinosaur earrings. I can now accent my outfits with red T-Rexes or purple Parasaurolophuses or a whole range of varieties and colors. They’re super cute and discreet. Why today, no one even noticed my dinosaur earrings until I drew attention to them. To me this doesn’t mean my friends are unkind. Instead it encourages me to wear different brightly colored dinosaurs every day for ever. Why not? Sure if I ever had a job that required me not to wear earrings, I wouldn’t wear earrings. So, excluding the off chance I work in the real world, there is no flaw in my plan to my love of juvenile fads close to my heart… or least to my earlobes. Maybe now that I have tiny reminders of childhood happiness I won’t have to decorate my room like a seven year old. But I probably still will. All I know is I’m very happy my first birthday gift was such a success, and I’m thankful that my friends know me so well. So well, in fact, they probably didn’t notice my new jewelry because it fits me so well.

Also, I want you all to know I spent thirty minutes finding out the purple dinosaur earrings were Parasaurolophuses. I need to learn to prioritize.

Lost

Today was a great day with one of my best friends shopping for party dresses. As we parted, however, I did something I've never done before. I left my phone in her car. At first I didn't believe. I searched my room for ten minutes convinced that I had carried my phone in my room and covered it up without realizing it. But, no, it was gone.
To retrieve my most expensive and precious belonging, I had to endure seven intense trials. I also had to facebook message and walk to a library. It was horrible. I couldn't check the weather on my phone so I didn't know what to wear for my walk to the library. I had to log into facebook on my laptop because I didn't have my phone. It was the absolute worse. Luckily, four hours later when I got my phone back, I had only missed two calls, and I found that I had learned a great deal about myself. Mainly, I love my phone. Also, a television, laptop, hundred plus book library and university full of people are a lot more fun with an iPhone. 

Looking for motivation

Driving over to my friend's house today and I realized, again, how much I love being in my car. Driving makes me so happy. I got my licenses later in life. I was 21 when I finally passed the test. I only failed the driving test once. I didn't wait for so long because I lacked ability... I just didn't want to take the test. Looking back I regret all the fun I could have had. Kind of make me wonder what else I've missed out on because of my laziness? Whatever, I'm just going to sit here.

Rain delay

Around nine this morning it was pouring down rain in one of those never going to stop kind of sheets that makes the world look like a creepy, grainy old slasher movie. So, the call was made to cancel our outdoor activity. Luckily, within an hour the rain stopped. I’m not sure what the weather is like in other places around the world, but during the Spring Kentucky has a strange habit of trying to relive all the seasons. From blazing heat, to torrential rains, to the occasional snow and hail fall, spring in Kentucky is just the bees’ knees. And by bees’ knees I mean bees don’t have knees just like Kentucky weather has no sense. Today was supposed to be filled with college students acting like little children but now I’m just paranoid my car will be dented by hailstones. Oh, Kentucky you play with my heart. I guess the outdoor games will have to take place some time later... like in June when the chance of hail finally drops. 

I’ll take the physical challenge

Tomorrow, barring horrific rains, my school’s activities board will be hosting our own rendition of Double Dare. I’m pretty freaking excited. I can’t wait to cover people in home made slime and watch college students make fools of themselves. As we make last minute preparations for the physical challenges I can’t help but remember the old game show, and I think to myself, “I really hated this show.”

I did. It was horrible, and messy, and sometimes they had happy families which would make me anger. Mostly, though, I hated the physical challenges. See, I wasn’t athletic growing up. I know, filling buckets with sponges isn’t very athletic, but throwing salad fixings into a bowl on top of someone’s head sure is. The point is seeing kids younger than me succeed at menial, hand-eye coronation type events would upset me. Because I was blind.

Not, like Helen Keller blind, just legally blind… in one eye. Still, it meant I had absolutely no depth perception. Until I was about ten, I don’t even think I knew I had a right side to my body. Whenever I would turn corners, or go through doorways, I would smack the right half of my body into the wall leaving giant goose egg knots on my forehead. The worse part, to help alleviate this, I had to wear an eye patch over my good eye. This just made it so I couldn’t even clap. That is how bad my depth perception is. And whenever I took the eye patch off it would rip out the majority of my eyebrow… it sucked.

Luckily, with both eyes open, I can see just fine, and I’ve learned to deal with seeing things my own way. I only have to move my head a few inches to the right to see like a normal non-cycloptical individual. But every time I try to throw or catch anything I’m painfully reminded how I longed for athletic abilities growing up. I didn’t want to be a professional athlete; I just wanted to kick butt at physical challenges. And I really wanted to be on GUTS. Do you remember that? That was a cool show.        

Unrealistic goals that I consider realistic for myself

Become a foremost authority of something

Have a statue of me in a prominent city

Go to space

See a live platypus

Write a book successful book

Learn how to live independently

Learn how to paint my own fingernails

Become famous enough for people to seek me out in public spaces

Empty shelves

I barely packed my room, that one day I said, “Yay! I’m going to pack my whole room.” In actuality I filled three medium size Rubbermaid’s. One is filled with the non-essential shoes I am willing to take home over Easter break and leave for the summer. Another has about two thirds of my books. I couldn’t put any more in because it started to get too heavy. The last one contains toys. Not so much toys more like knickknacks… If, of course, you are a knickknack collecting ten year old who still really loves 101 Dalmatians and tiny plastic dinosaurs. I just like being surrounded by happy things. And to me nothing says happiness like neon colored plastic vampire teeth and Star Wars bobble heads.

I decided to go ahead and pack up my joyous collection because, they really don’t do anything. The first week of school, I calm my nerves by displaying all my bright plastic toys and then I forget about them. But now that my selves are empty the realization that I’m going to leave this room is so unmistakably in front of me. And an even worse realization is assaulting me as well. Can I have all these things when I am an adult, living on my own, trying to make it in the cutthroat world called life?

I guess I can. In my bedroom (Ha). According to my future roommate, my “childish” interior design fashion isn’t, how do you say this nicely, welcomed in his life. I know they are childish, but I enjoy the happiness they bring. As I look around my sparse dorm room, I miss Superman lunch box, but more importantly, I’m ready to grow into something more appropriate. Like an even cooler Superman lunch box. Oh, with a matching grown-up thermos.     

Fry this dish?

I routinely have to remind myself that people don’t want to read a blog about what I eat. But if I’m going to blog about myself, I should talk about the extreme food craving I’ve had lately. See, I’ve recently rediscovered my love for pickles. Of course, I can’t truly enjoy a pickle without Oreo cookies. Seriously. I love mixing pickles with Oreos. When I run my own 24-hour-amazing-themed restaurant which will serve all my crazy breakfast-y foods, I will serve pickle slices and Oreo cookies. Not only, will they be a big hit, but customers will also have the “fry this dish?” option. Because what could possibly be better than pickles and Oreo cookies? Fried pickles and fried Oreos cookies! And this is what I’ve been craving lately. Sadly, I have no way to fry Oreos or pickles. I’ll just have to wait until I’m a famous restaurant owner to try the recipe, trust me, this is another one of the billion dollar ideas that people should just pay me for thinking of.

Unbirthday party

Last night was my friend Amanda’s annual birthday but not actually on her birthday get together. Spending the evening with friends and food was great. But the very best part of her birthday celebration is the fact that her birthday is just one day before my birthday. Our birthdays are still a few weeks away but the anticipation is already starting to get to me. I’ve already had a whole post dedicated to my love of my birthday, specifically birthday presents. But during that post I was still on strong pain medicine, and I don’t think I made myself very clear.

I love my birthday. My earliest birthday memory is of my mom and dad taking me to the PX (the military versions of a mall… not sure if that’s common knowledge) and telling me I can spend $100 on whatever I wanted. So, we walked through aisles of toys and finally I found a beautiful Barbie doll and asked, “Do we have enough?” My parents took the doll and examined it for ten minutes before finally telling me they’d be willing to make up the difference but I’d have to help take out the recycling. It was a great day. Not only did I learn that little Sagan had no concept of money, but I got an awesome toy and I liked helping so the day was great.

Anyway, my birthday gets to be the one time of the year that is my day. I get to be the center of attention. And presents… beautiful presents.

Tansition radio

When I woke up this morning, I had a rare burst of energy that is usually accompanied by hours of cleaning and meticulous organizing. I don’t have these urges very often and I try to capitalize on them. But instead of purging my old mail pile and placing my bead collecting in my craft box, I’ve made a much wiser decision. Because I’m moving in a month, I’m just going to start packing up my room. Now, instead of trying to make my room presentable I’m just going to put everything in boxes and tell my friends, “This is messing; I’m transitioning.” So, the only question is what to do with this energy? I’m thinking pointless hours on the internet and dateline investigation’s presents. Yeah, that makes so much more sense.    

Stuffs hasn’t got real

You’d think by now I would have accepted the fact that I’m going to graduate and leave the state I’ve grown up in early next month. But I seem to be lacking that ah-ha moment. I picked up my cap and gown, I’ve started filling out my invitations, but I don’t feel like a graduate, yet. This happens to me all the time. Something significant happens, but it doesn’t sink in until later. Like when I got my driver’s licenses. I didn’t take my driver’s test until the summer I was twenty-one. But I’ve had my permit since I was sixteen. And I practiced driving since I was sixteen… Anyway when I actually passed the test and became a licensed driver it was a big deal. But I didn’t feel like a driver. I still find myself feeling guilty when behind the wheel. I freak out whenever I pass real driver’s because I just know they will realize that I’m just a phony.  But I do have a driver’s licenses and now I have a cap and gown. Soon, I’ll have a diploma. I just wonder how long that will take to sink in. Hopefully, before I have a job interview that asks about my degrees.  

Saving the world one discounted yogurt at a time

I try not to watch too much television. I have a bad habit of becoming caught up in the programs. Basically, every time I start to watch a new television series I let the series take over my life. Last night I watched Extreme Couponing. Now, all I want to do is plan shopping trips and have a stock hold of below retail priced foodstuffs to last through a nuclear winter. But I don’t really have anywhere to store a hundred roles of paper towels right now. Therefore, I have synthesized a brilliant plan which will allow me to practice in my newest obsession and help the world. I am going to extreme coupon for a food bank. That is totally plausible. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be hired immediately. I am prepared to edit my resume to show my money saving abilities. With a few years of practicing and checkout conquering, I am sure my economy enterprising will earn me a bid for sainthood at the very least. I think as far as my useless skills list is concerned, this one will be a crowning addition.   

Nifty

So here is my fiftieth post. If my blog was a dog, it would be being studied by experts trying to find long life genes. But seriously, I’m pretty proud of myself. Of course, I haven’t accomplished much. But what was I expecting 50 days ago? If you hadn’t realized, the purpose of this blog isn’t to cure cancer… that would be as affective as changing Facebook profile pictures to cartoon animals. What is the purpose?

To let Julie know that I am an amazing person

To, maybe, find someone else who enjoys pickles and Oreos

To admit that I feel guilty about eating fish when the skins still on

To share my fear of looking into mirrors when the lights are off with all the other wimps out there

And of course, to allow myself a place where I can write all those things I think but prefer not to say

Hello. It’s not me you’re looking for

If having a blog hasn’t made it obvious enough, I guess I’ll come out and say it. I kind of want to be internet famous. Not for real famous, I just want the chances of someone I don’t know knowing me to increase dramatically. I don’t want to make money or be on television or have one stupid video of laughing things uploaded to YouTube. I just want a mild dose of internet celebrity. I don’t think that is too much to ask. In today’s society, I think it is expected.

Because of my strong desire to gain fame I check the stats on my blog, a lot. Yesterday I noticed that someone had found my blog by googling “claw hand deformity.” The country of origin for this google: Korean. And the real kicker: I was the fourth link to come up. Either censorship in Korea is high, or information on “claw hand deformity” is low. No matter how I roped him or her in, I’d like to say hello to the Korean who viewed my blog post about my banal kindergarten experience… I hoped it helped, and I help you tell your friends.

I’ve thought about whoring my blog out a little more. Maybe name each entry after celebrities. But in the end I’ve decided I much rather get famous this way. One awkward Google search from Korean at a time.

Not my best, but my last

This year is definitely a year of lasts for me. One of the lasts that I will miss the most is the college related crafting. One on my college jobs has been working as a resident assistant. If you don’t know what that means, I keep track of a floor full of freshman girls. That usually just means 15 to 20 well behaved studious people, but still. Each month I’m responsible for posting a bulletin board and name tags for each girl. That means once a month I am forced to be creative. Typically, I hate being forced to do something. But when it comes to crafting, I would enjoy it no matter what. Gun to my head, bomb about to detonate, three minutes to live, I will still love crafting.  

As the year goes on, I have so many things I have to do. I can’t give my full attention to any one thing. So, I did my last set of name tags and my last bulletin board today under the stress of a five page paper deadline looming and an emcee gig to prepare for in two days. My name tags and board aren’t great, but I’m proud of them. And, I hope, they don’t look like a stressed-out-end-of-the-road-senior craft project. I hope they look like a your-resident-assistant-cares-for-you-and-in-three-months-will-be-wishing-she-was-back-making-name-tags craft project. After all, how many jobs out there pay you to craft? Seriously. Please tell me if you know of a job that will pay me to craft!!!  

Early is on time, extremely early is even more on time

A friend of mine and I went to a matinee earlier today. I love seeing movies, but I can’t help but get anxious whenever I go to the theater. I just hate being late. And by late, I mean I hate not being extremely early.

When I was in high school and would meet friends at the movie theater, I would always show up a good thirty minutes before any one else. I just don’t want to risk missing anything. Worse, I don’t want to walk into a theater that already has the lights turned down and the movie-goers settled in. It’s rude to the others and super embarrassing.

I get this anxious feeling whenever I am late to class, too. I would rather skip a class than walk in five minutes late. This isn’t new; as I kid, I would wait at the bus stop for forty minutes even though the bus came at the exact same time everyday… I just couldn’t risk it. Once the teacher starts class, I’m not interrupting. And I can’t walk into a movie theater after the lights are turned down and the previews start. Luckily, my friend and I got to the theater in plenty of time. My desire to be early isn’t a problem for me, it’s only a problem for the friends I drag an hour early along with me.  

Catch-22

I've spent my Saturday doing what I should have been doing all week: my homework. If I haven't made it painfully clear, I'm supremely lazy. This laziness is exasperated whenever I have to do something I have no interested in. Even the joy of bullshitting doesn't help. And so, it is the last minute and I have to finish my homework.
The class: vocation and spirituality, online
The lame-ness level: During the first online session we had to compare ourselves to pictures of dogs waiting around a swimming pool... and there was a right and wrong answer
The assignment: group discussion boards
Every week we have to comment on a message board about how the weekly reading has changed our view on vocation. AND we have to reply to two other students on the message board. Why is this so difficult for me to complete? Well, the first week, I didn't have the book and I couldn't complete the assignment. So I bullshitted some stuff and replied to one other post by talking about feelings. I thought I did a pretty good job, considering. But the teacher not only failed me for that week (which was understandable) she also wrote me a long letter about how not replying to my classmates hurts the overall participation level in the class and is unfair to them...
What this teacher has done, has ensured that nothing I do for this class will be sincere, or turned in a minute before the do date. The work I put into not putting into work is exhausting.

Half a cup for every tortilla shell, no exceptions

Today I ate dinner at the top-notch cafeteria at my college. The food isn’t too terrible, but it is definitely school cafeteria-y. The worse thing about it is the poor selection. Today I ate a cheese quesadilla and a bowl of cottage cheese and grapes. It was worth the thousand dollars I pay for a meal plan, I am sure. The quesadilla did do a good job transporting me back to my eighth grade year in home economics class… flashback. We had just finished up a roaring segment on balancing a check book. The class was preparing to start learning what every thirteen year old wants to learn: cooking. Our teacher prefaced with demonstration on washing knifes and measuring liquids. The class patiently waited to be split into groups. One group would learn to cut green beans, another would master the art of sauteing mushrooms, and the last, most coveted group would learn to make cheese quesadillas. We all silently prayed, and I was rewarded with the job of official cheese measurer. And for the next week each day at two I made perfectly measured cheese quesadillas with four other eighth graders. It wasn’t exciting, or interesting, but as far as what I learned from that class it is the one thing that has lasted. Oh, and the scar I got from spilling melty cheese on my forearm. Yep, that’s still there.       

Claw hand

As my last month and a half of college wraps up I’ve been spending my time writing last minute essays and book reports. Basically, I’ve been writing constantly which means writing my blog makes me not happy.

I love writing, really. But something about being made to write suddenly makes writing SUCK.

Everything feels forced and my fingers keep cramping. Seriously, what is going to happen in ten years when all this texting and typing catches up to me. Will I have twisty tree fingers? Like will my fingers be constantly bent at right angles? Will iPhone make an app. for that? One of my least proud moment in life was in kindergarten when the class mother for the week was a woman with two fingers on each hand. Seriously, claw-hands. I knew I wasn't supposed to be afraid but it was freaking terrifying. I stared... a lot.

I’m also not very good at staying on topic. Note: my research papers stray in the exact same way.  

Best/Worst things about being an adult

Worst things about being an adult:

I probably can’t nap whenever I want

I doubt I’ll be able to watch Dr. Phil everyday… yes, for four years I have scheduled my classes around Dr. Phil

I’ll have to wear grown-up shows which will probably hurt

I won’t be able to cut my hair however and whenever I want

My meals won’t be provided for me three times a day

Best things:

...ummm... A full size fridge

Yep, I can't wait to graduate college. 

Same old

Today I met with my academic advisor for the last time to make sure everything was on track for graduation. My academic adviser printed some things off the school website and congratulated me on my almost achievement and then she asked the age old question, "What are you doing after graduation?"
The first year of college people warned us that we would hear and have to answer, "What's your major?" so many times that we might explode. This new and improved broken record question is ten times worse. Instead of the "bless your heart" disappointed stares I used to get when I told people I was an English major, I know get looks of concerns and full fledged sentences such as, "Well, graduating is half the battle" or the absolute worse, "Maybe, you'll figure something out... soon."
Yep, maybe I'll figure something out. That's encouraging. No, I don't need you to advise me by reminding me of all the skills I've learned over the last four years. I don't need you to give me some websites or sign me up for some "how to get a job" seminar... No, your well wish for me to maybe figure something out is just fine...
Maybe, I should apply for my adviser's job... I could be just as encouraging by putting forth a third of her effort. I at least know appropriate questions.  

Bullshit

I've dedicated today to finishing one of my end of the year term papers. It is bittersweet to realize that I only have about two more such papers before graduating. I am glad to never have to struggle with writing a research paper on a topic that does not interest me, but I know I will miss the challenge.
Nothing compares to sitting down the night before a big paper is due and churning out ten pages of grade A bullshit. That's what I do after all. No matter how many times I tell myself, "This one will be different. I'm going to try." I always wait until the last minute, and I always fake my way through. I tend to get good grades, but I'm sure that's usually a fluke. I just don't work well without the pressure of an impeding deadline, and I don't care enough about anything to actually put forth more effort than it is worth.
If teachers give me A's for not trying, why would I try? So, I am writing another paper on another book I never have or will read. I can't help but be proud of my bullshitting abilities and sad that some day I won't be able to show them off. I bet if my employer asked for a report on the amount of paperclips the company uses (or whatever employers ask for reports on) I will actually have to research and tell the truth... Oh, just another thing college seems to have failed at teaching me... or I have failed to teach myself. Either way I'm for totes making the Dean's list again this semester!

Interneting

I'm back home after about a week at school. But in that short amount of time my dog has complete shed her winter coat. It's like my dog lives on Internet time. I was gone for a few days, but she looks as if she's lost half her body mass. 
It's the same as when I log on to YouTube before bed to check one thing and the next thing I remember is watching talk show interviews with fifteen year old teen mothers and falling asleep at 4 in the morning. 
Time just moves faster when I'm online. It's physics or dog science or something. I've tried to be more conscience of myself and check the time more often but even then I end up telling myself, "one more hour," and three hours later I'm still online. 
There are few things that draw me away from sleep but the Internet does it. I try to set limits like being of line by one. But eventually I've stopped making restrictions. I enjoy my internet and enjoy wasting time on it. Of course, if I had the choice I would sleep and use the Internet, simultaneously. I hope people are working on that. 

Musical decline

I don’t like to admit it, but I have very poor taste in music. I’m not ashamed of the bad bands I listen to, but I do feel anxious whenever I have the share my music. How one of my friends reacts to my music really effects how our relationship progresses. There are a few steps I take to ease my friends into my music world. Whenever I have someone in my car for short rides I only listen to popular radio stations. I act like I’m hip and with the times. If I’m driving further than my stations will take me, I pretend like I’m nice person and let my friend provide the music. And finally, when the time comes, I release my musical frenzy and hope for the best. Luckily, I’ve yet to lose a friend because of my musical taste, I’ve just lose the privilege to pick music when with others.  

Secrets are stressful

Logging into my blog account today I had a moment of panic. I mistyped my password causing me to think I had forgotten it and in turn I flipped out. This happens every week. If its not  my blog than it's my Facebook password or my online banking password. 
Forgetting an Internet password isn't a big deal, though. I know you can usually just have an email sent to reset it, but the pressure of having to remember AND keep secret a password is too much for me.  
I hate passwords. I hated them when I was seven and Daryl wouldn't let me on the top tier of the jungle gym because I had forgotten the password from last time we went to park. And I hate passwords now when I forget three times in a row and have to wait thirty minutes to try again, at which point I will have forgotten which three failed and will still be denied access. 
Can't all computers just have fingerprint readers or eye scanners? If websites would get with the times and stop being so childish with their stupid passwords the world would be a better place. 

If oven is spelled o v e n then of should be ov

As I've mentioned before, I study English at my college. But that doesn't mean I always have the ability to recognize when I'm writing nonsense or gibberish. I grew up in the world of autocorrected spelling and parents who thought hooked on phonics was for sissy. Now I suck at the world.
The only thing in college I ever outright flunked was a spelling test. Which I studied days for. Because of this, my technical writing self esteem is just as lower as my actual technical writing. And whenever I find proofreaders I tend to latch on and not let go. Something about their superpower to tell the difference between tenet and tenant makes me swoon. Sometimes I don't  think proofreaders understand how important they are to me. They make me feel so much less stupid.

Inappropriate responses I often make when someone sees me and asks, “How are you?”

Hi

How are you?

Yeah, this weather

Thank you

You too

I hope so

Sunday Night Syndrome

Getting back into the groove of college life has been almost impossible. College, the most relaxed atmosphere in the world, is apparently too fast-pace for me after spending a week sleeping and wallowing in pity.  Today, I’m using the excuse of having to drive five hours for “wound preservation” as the reason I had to sleep through class.

Yesterday, I’m calling on one of my favorite excuses for not doing anything productive: Sunday Night Syndrome. It is a grim phenomenon, caused by being so sad that the weekend is about to end and so excited that a new week is about to start, that results in a serious lack of sleeping abilities and a lethargic (at best) Monday.

Here’s an interesting article about the Sunday Blues by Dr. Larina Kase. Maybe you can use it to legitimatize your excuse the next time you can’t be productive on a Monday. http://www.selfgrowth.com/articles/LarinaKase1.html

Technicolor ideas

Last night I had a stroke of genius. Television is all ate up with addiction shows and weight loss right now. So, what if I combine the intervention premise with the fit factor? I’d call it Fittervention.

  Fat people will be followed by cameras under the assertion that they are being filmed in a documentary about being over weight. But really, the fat person's closes friends and relatives are staging an intervention. But the show won’t be sad or anything. The family and friends will get the person free gym memberships or send them to fat camp or something. And the intervention will show their support for the interventee.

 This isn’t necessarily something I would enjoy watching, but it is something I bet I can make a bunch of money off of. And isn’t that the meaning of television? Now, how do you make a tv show?   

Waiting game

I spent the majority of today like I've spent the majority of my week, sitting in the doctor's office. Just the same as every time, I waited in the waiting room for a few hours, then waited in the examining room for a few hours. But today was even worse. The doctor came in after the nurse did her thing and when the doctor was on her way out she said something that sounded like, "The nurse will come back."
But then no one came back. I waited a long time. I looked through all drawers and cabinets, built somethings out of popsicle sticks and tried on a dozen pair of gloves. But no one came back. So, after a good thirty minutes, I left. I just kind of walked out without making eye contact. No one stopped me. 
I'm just not very good at being patience. I can stand in lines for any theme park ride or movie premiere. But I can't stand waiting when there isn't a worthy end. For example: waiting to have a third nurse check me out is not worth my time. Just like waiting to find out a surprise is not worth it. Moral:  my third biggest pet peeve is when someone says, "I got you something but I'm not going to give it to you until later" oh, and I should probably not be alone in a hospital room.

Disco cabin fever

Being trapped at my mom's house is pretty boring. She doesn't have cable tv or anything. She just has the few stations that come through the converter box. Most of them are public broadcasting stations and the local networks. There is also one channel that shows reruns of the Monkees and the Partridge Family. As much of a kick I get out of watch the Flying Nun I think it's crummy the tv people switched to digital. On the very short list of things I think it is okay to steal, tv shows definitely tops the lot. I just don't understand science enough to disagree with stealing stuffs floating in air. Like picking up wifi hotspots or breathing air. I don't think you should have to pay for it. But I haven't found a way to get my mother more tv channels. So I'm stuck watching Laurie Partridge get braces for the second time this week. Spoiler alert, she totally goes steady with Luke Skywalker. 

Let me eat cake... All the cake

Nothing heals a hole in your back like a whirlwind planning of a party. But not just any party, a freaking birthday party. I can't remember when I became obsessed with turning one year older, but I am. I love presents. Everyone enjoys presents but for me it seems so much more than an indulgence. Every gift I receive makes me stronger. Each gift leads to the desire for more gifts. They're not even expensive or lavish gifts. Just cards and well wishes make me crave more cards and more birthday wishes. I want every conversation to be about birthdays. My birthday, your birthday, celebrity birthdays, I want to hear about everything and I don't want anyone to think about anything else! By the day after my birthday I tend to not have any friends. Luckily, I have 364 days to make it up to them. 

Sleepless nights

You might remember Shamrock, my dog, from my earlier post. Well, she's really cool and understanding. Since I've recently had surgery on my lower back she had been nice enough to let me sleep in my bed back at home even though she aims it as her own now and she's only kicked me about half a dozen times. I'm not going to count the repetitive doggy punches I received tonight. See along with being totally awesome, Shamrock also is totally epileptic. Hence the nickname Shamerbamer. Earlier she had a big seizure complete with kicking. I know it sounds horrible, but dog seizures are kind of like really intense dog dreams. They're running and barking and foaming a little at the mouth... In all seriousness she's fine. And afterwards, her motor skills are horrible. Think drunk dog walking head first into walls, much too cute to scold for popping stitches. 

Ways I know I'm actually sick and not being melodramatic

No longer have the ability to brush my teeth: as soon as the toothpaste touches my front teeth the strength to brush is replaced by an uncontrollable gag reflex

Walking turns to flying: even though I know it's impossible every step I take feels as if I'm learning to use winged sandals 

I can't make decisions: driving to the hospital three county away and not packing any clothes, school work, or provisions seems like a fine idea

I have a strong desire to go to class and feel disappointed when I can't go

An excessive amount of eye sleepies: seriously, they are hanging from my eyelashes... so gross

My voice transforms into a sultry jazz singer's

My blogging isn't funny just kind of whiny

Being sick makes me become pathetic

Can't blog today too busy trying to not die from unnecessary totally not nice meany face illness... which sucks and is not a good thing. 

Breakfast of champions of not normal breakfast eating

Today I've been pretty blah. I think I'm running a fever, but I'm not going to actually check it so that way I can tell myself that I am not sick. I felt too sick to eat dinner in our lovely school cafeteria, so I am eating Ramen like any other college student. I don't have a refined palate, so noodles are good enough for me. But when I live on my own, there are a few food indulges (most of which came to me in dreams) that I can't wait to add to my regular diet. 
Toast bits: it's just a piece of toast, but it's cut into 16 little squares. That way instead of having to pick between one delicious topping I can have 16 toast toppings. 
Redbull and Fundip: I tried this for the first time in a movie theater. Basically, it taste like an even candier version or Redbull. Beware, though, there is a mild Mentos and Diet Coke effect. 
Pancakes and Cheerios: I love my pancakes drenched in syrup but I find myself missing the texture of a crunchy breakfast. So, adding some flavorless Cheerios is the best of both worlds. 

Car tats

Recently, I've been thinking about putting a decal on my car. I don't want to stick it to my car though. I would rather turn the sticker into a magnet that way I can remove it whenever I want. Car decals are a lot like tattoos. Magnets would be the equivalant of temporary tattoos. But that doesn't mean they're acceptable. For example: ribbon magnets. I understand that the ribbons represent something the car's owner is passionate about. But similair to barbwire tats and Tweety Bird they're over used and rarely effective. But magnets are better than  permanent window decals. Window decals are the car equivalent to tramps stamps. The trampiest are the ones that are over the brake lights and light up when the car stops. And when there is writing on the car windows, that's not classy either. Thats the same as cheap henna tattoos. They fade and come off unevenly. The highways are full of bad car tattoo mistakes. Maybe, I'll keep my car decal free. After all, it will totally distract passing drivers from my own face tattoo... which I draw on before each long car ride... starting next car ride.

Daylights smaylights

Being in Atlanta not only means I'm super happy, it also means I'm in different time zone than I am back home. Luckily, the clocks spring forward one hour tonight. That means when I go home tomorrow I'll be on the same time as I am here right now. Last year when the clocks changed I showed up to English lit. one hour early and to mask my embarrassment I didn't attend the class all week. But this year I don't have worry because I'm already in the future! And let me tell you guys, the future is just as shi...funky? as the past... Sometimes instead of saying "bad" words I just use any word but I don't think it makes sense. Whatever, I don't give a turnip! 

High hopes

Staying with my friend in Atlanta really helps me to appreciate how much I'm going to love not living at home. Sure over the past four years I've been "away" at college, but I've also had my mom's house to go back home to. Soon I will have Mom's house to go back to, but only to visit because I'll be an actual adult. And actually living in a facility that I can control. Unlike dorms, I won't have to share a communal bathroom or microwave! I will have access to a full and functioning kitchen. And unlike at home, I can do the dishes when I want to and cook what I want to. I'm know responsibility will suck and scare the living heck out of me, but I'm pretty sure life after college in general sucks and is scary as heck. I might as well be in control of the DVR.

Extreme Karaoke

Driving to Atlanta today I went through some options for what to do if I don’t get the job I’m interviewing for on Saturday. My favorite option, excluding of course the impossible dinosaur related options, was extreme karaoke-ist. Unlike most plain old karaoke stars, I will have a real band accompanying me. We’ll go on world wide tours and have a large fan base. Basically, we’ll be like a real band but instead of worrying about writing our own songs or finding a manager to buy songs for us we’ll just play other people’s music. Other famous people’s famous music. And we won’t play very well. We won’t have to because its karaoke. What I’m saying is I want to be paid to spend every night in bars while I attempt, and fail, to sing well. This sounded more viable while I was driving down the interstate blaring my music. Let’s hope I get a real job soon; leaving me to my own devises will probably be bad for the world.  

Some things I own and why

A model of someone else's teeth from the dentist, because I'm not afraid to ask 

Monster themed Easter egg kit, because I'm a good Catholic 

Child's puzzle foam floor mat, because it was cheaper than a rug 

Bags filled with confetti, so I can throw impromptu parties

Stop sign, because my friend Kara has no fear

Bendy straws, because sometimes drinking can be boring

Pet cactus, because I get lonely

Eye lash glitter, so I can feel more like a pixie

Kazoo collection, so I can start an orchestra

The Lady Gaga dilemma

Lately I've been try to be an adult. It's pretty difficult, but I think I might be getting the hang of it. I've been filing out job applications like it's my... well job. I even got my very first legitimate job interview for this Saturday! But, of course, nothing is easy for an adult. This Saturday is the Saturday I've been waiting for since December. It is the Saturday of the Lady Gaga concert. So, I have to decide and because I'm an adult I have to make the mature decision. I wonder if the interviewers would mind if I show up dressed like Lady Gaga? I mean, I think that's a fair, adult compromise.      

Where there's smoke there are clowns

Like many people sirens make me nervous. Whenever I hear an ambulance or firetruck I go through a series of worst case scenarios that involve my close friends and family. Luckily I've recently developed a technique to help settle my nerves. Every time I hear a siren I tell myself, "Obviously there must be a parade near by." I still make sure I stop and obey the law when it comes to emergency vehicles, but now I'm also filled with the unexplainable child like joy that can only come from a parade. If only emergency vehicles would toss candy while they drove by.        

All the voices

Growing up I had a theory about sounds. Before science taught me about waves I figured if you could hear someone then they could hear you. This was revolutionary for my tiny mind. When someone talked to me, I could talk back and they would hear. If someone was talking in another room, and I could hear them then if I talked they could hear me. It all made sense. But soon my theory started being tested. In the car my mom would turn on the radio and know matter how loud I talked the singers never responded. But sometimes the radio advertisements would talk directly to me. The same thing happened with television. It was all very stressful. But the worse test of my theory happened in a restaurant on time. I went to the restroom with my mom and there was a radio playing. Mom couldn't understand why I all of a sudden could not pee. No matter how extravagant my hand motions (because I didn't want the radio to hear I was in the bathroom) my mom refused to except my plea to go to another restroom. Soon she started yelling at me! Right there where the radio people could hear. I couldn't believe it. Once we left the restroom I was able to explain the problem to my mom. She did not think my theory was sound...  HA

Buy me bangles

I tend to buy a lot of things because I need them. I am compelled to buy them. I justify my purchases by telling myself they are pretty and therefore I need them so I can show the world that I am pretty. And by pretty, I mean shiny. Like today when I went to this fancy pants, crafty shop. It had lots of pretty jewelry and clothes, but what I really wanted was a tinsel wig on one of the mannequins. Can you imagine the beauty of a tinsel wig? It had bangs! It was everything I ever imagined having and all I needed to make me happy and so pretty. But it wasn't for sale... Why would a store have something on display that they didn't intend on selling? Ever since, I haven't been able to even look at my dull un-tensely hair. But the fact that I can't buy everything I want isn't the problem. The problem is now I want to buy something even more pretty in order to make up for the wig. Being a shiny-loving-compulsive-buyer whose happiness is determined by how I appear to others (not the same as low self-esteem!) can be difficult.  

Party Time

There are many benefits to attending a Catholic university. For example, if you forget a teacher’s name chances are you can just say father or sister and be correct. The best Catholic perk by far, however, is Spring Break. I know all colleges are getting ready for Spring Break but it seems like Catholic schools get out a little bit early. Our Spring Break is earlier in the semester because later on in spring we also get an Easter Break which is like Spring Break only minus the fun and add the midnight masses and fasting. So, our Spring Break starts Monday.  I plan on having fun with friends and going home to see the love of my life. The love of my life is a dog. She’s super fluffy, and in the picture, super serious. I wish all the more adventurous Spring Breakers good lucky and happy travels. If sand wasn’t so incredibly annoying perhaps I would be joining you… but probably not.

My favorite color’s gray

Because it pertained to today’s subject, my metaphysics teacher told the class about his cataract surgery. He was talking about how the colors of the classroom are much more vibrant now. It reminded me of something he told my class the first time I had him as a teacher. ~flashback~ It was introduction to philosophy and freshman Sagan sat shyly in the front row of her very first college class with her brand new book on her desk. Eager to learn and join the ranks of educated individuals, she listened keenly while the prehistoric priest spent the first class session explaining why colors aren’t real. -- This disturbed me for months. I was an undeclared scared freshman and now not even the bright blue sky could make me feel good about life. I dwelled on the fact that my colors might not be the same as someone else’s colors, and on the fact that I could never know how someone else sees something. It just didn’t sit well. After a quasi-break down which consisted of a lot of cry and rereading of my philosophy book, I decided to become an English major. I’m not sure why doing this made so much sense to little me. But if colors weren’t real, and numbers weren’t either, I decided I should avoid them the best I could. With art and math out of the running for majors I just settled on English. For four years now I’ve been working on explaining how the colors I see look, once I accomplish this I think I can win college.

Characteristics that make me love certain songs and bands

Songs that feature heavy breathing or laughter

Political themed lyrics

Songs containing the word glitter

Songs with spelling

A star in the band’s name

Songs with alliteration

Mellow, electric instrumentation

Songs about the Sun

Songs with prominent organ

Synth pop groups

Songs with stuttering and exaggerated enunciation

Songs featured in major motion pictures

One for the little bitty baby

For years I attended a tiny, public elementary school in a town with a name like Short Creek. The school had about 50 students in each grade who were all related in some distant way and everyone had last names like Miller. I was a transplant. I fit in well enough, was ahead in most subjects, and made friends. But only one experience has stuck with my: three times a week my class would go to music with Mr. O. This was my first introduction to a life long love affair with band and friendly men with musical backgrounds. We learned to play the recorder, to read treble clef, and of course to sing hymns. This last one always seemed to make my mother uncomfortable. Whenever I would come home singing, “Our Savior, Sweet Jesus” she would freak out a little. She wasn’t anti-Jesus; she just didn’t think he belonged in public schools. This is why she never came to see our class production of the Christmas story and why she didn’t like hearing my renditions of beloved Christian classics. Like everything else my mother disagreed with, I began to love the songs even more. Now, over a decade later, I still wake up with “How Shall I Send Thee” in my head. Despite my mother’s loving attempts to protect me, Mr. O indoctrinated me completely with campy Jesus tunes.   

Cover me! They’re coming in too fast

Tomorrow I meet with a career counselor. I’ve been working on my resume all night. And by all night I mean the past thirty minutes. I just don’t know what to do. I have so many viable, important skills. And I demonstrate these skills all the time. For example: over the weekend I was at a friend’s house when I noticed that she had a rather large tangled mass of necklaces. Not only did I help to untangle some of them, but I showed that I was a detail-oriented-self-starter. But where can I put that on my resume? Why does everything need to be work experience or specific skill sets? Can I have one section on my resume were I talk about all the really good faces I know how to make? Please? I guess that’s what the cover letter is for. I can use my years of college writing to sell myself. Let’s just hope the people in charge of hiring enjoy creativity… and emoticons.  

A good poem is hard to find

As an English major I've been asked to do some pretty difficult things during my college career. For example, I once had to take a spelling test. In college. Yeah, that was nearly impossible. I've also have had a long history with reciting poetry. My favorite... None of them. I don't hate poetry it just doesn't interest me. Right now though, I'm on my way to my friend's for a bad poetry party. I'm excited about my theatrical rendition of "Raise Your Glass." Bad poetry is much easier to understand than a good poet... Or something poetic like that.

Three month home stretch

When I started college, I had this five year plan were instead of working hard and struggling to find a job I would just make the perfect audition tape for the Real World. I think I have a good angle: 22 year old from a small town in the middle of nowhere recently graduated from a small Catholic college of about 1,000 students looking to finally be free. But I haven’t made an audition tape. I haven't written a resume. I haven’t done anything productive in relation to the real world. What have I done over the past couple of days in my free time which I had designated towards planning a future?  

Planned a party for a cat

Watched my best friend sort sequins

Memorized “ooh aah just a little bit” so I can perform it at a bad poetry party

I’m sure I’m not the only one wasting the last year of college. I have no motivation. If I graduate I have to start living. If I don’t show up to classes and fail, I get another year to think about the real world. Basically, it’s a no-win situation. I’m not terribly worried though, I mean there is that chance I could die. Then the school might name a building after me!

Here in my car

I spent the week planning an elaborate road trip. It was cancelled due to the economy or something like that. I’m disappointed I won’t see the town or visit with my friends. Mostly, though, I’m disappointed I don’t have an excuse to take a long car ride. If sleeping is my favorite activity, driving is a close second. Being in a car is just the best place in the world. And when I’m in control of where I’m going, and I can pick the music instead of having to listen to Pope John Paul’s books on tape while my parents not so covertly try to brainwash me, being in a car is ultimate happiness. I crank up my music and scream out the lyrics. I also like to practice making funny noises. No one can hear me; it’s the perfect place. And the best time to drive is in the middle of the night when only creepy looking truckers are out and everything is dark. I feel all alone and can imagine a post-apocalyptic world where I reign supreme with my car driving abilities… Also I get to wear the glow stick bracelets I keep in my glove box to make the night more rave-y. I just wish instead of graduating college or starting a real life, I could be paid to drive around in my car without any worries. That would be beneficial to the world… I think.