Periodic Encounters

getting old

2012-01-18T23:39:00.002-07:00

So... it's been a while yeah? Since I posted last a lot has changed. Yet like most change, it doesn't take long for it to feel like nothing has changed. I moved house. Yes, I say things like "moved house" and call pants "trousers" because if I can't have a British accent I might as well speak English. British English of course.

Anyways, so now instead of living with an older guy I met via craigslist with a cute dog I now live with two younger girls I met via craigslist with a spastic kitten. See what I mean about change and how insubstantial it can be? I will say though that at least my apartment feels lived in and isn't as cold as an icebox.

As far as my new housemates are concerned, they're both clean and polite - two traits that all housemates should have when inhabiting small spaces with fellow humans. However, they are at that age where it's still acceptable to stay up past midnight and get drunk every weekend. In other words, they're the type of 21 year olds I never was at university. I don't mind though because as I said before - they're polite and clean despite their university behavior.

I've also decided by now that I just have an old soul - like grandma old. I probably get drunk-drunk maybe once every three months and that's only when I've run out of excuses to get out of drinking with my alcohol ingesting friends. I actually don't mind the being drunk phase, but the post-drunk phase is what always gets me. So because I'm all old and wise and shit I don't do that much because I just don't like it. I should also mention that there are so many other ways to have fun that don't involve a handful of aspirin the next day. For example, pâtisseries. I freaking love playing cards in pâtisseries. Who needs booze when you have fancy French pastries? Seriously.

Know what I also love? Cooking lavish meals for myself. The benefits here being that it's impossible to cook a lavish meal for one so I always end up with leftovers and two being that if it tastes shoddy nobody will be disappointed because I'm the only one tasting it. I've also taken up watching old films, dusting and reorganizing my one and only bookcase, drinking tea and discussing reincarnation and alternate universes with friends, needlepoint (which quite frankly I suck at and dislike immensely), playing a dozen different versions of solitaire on my bedroom floor and ~~teasing~~ playing with my housemate's crazy kitten. I've also been drooling over plane tickets and planning trips that I can't actually go on because one, I don't have a lot of money and two, I don't have enough vacation time. In conclusion, I really have become an old lady. No surprise since by the sixth grade I had taken up sewing stuffed animals and reading classic literature. This is just the extended version of that with the addition of paying taxes.

P.S. If you can figure out this month's banner and its connection to my new color scheme you are scientifically awesome.

P.P.S If you haven't read John Green's new novel The Fault in Our Stars you need to get your ass off the computer right now and do that. It will change your outlook on life.

the real world, just like that other world you were living in

2011-11-24T12:45:00.001-07:00

As a recent college graduate and newly employed, well, employee I have spent most of my life around students. Up until a few months ago I didn't have to deal with the complications that come with having a full-time job. Here are some things I have discovered about the "real world" which is just a scary way of saying the world that's been there all along you just haven't noticed from your school bubble.

Overtime: When you have to work more than 40 hours a week. Apparently your boss actually wants to pay you when you stay late, even if you are so dedicated that you would stay for free. Something about it being the law.

Coworkers: Those people you have to work with, or at least around. Some of them will be awesome, people who you will bond with immediately. While some will be complete assholes and take off early the day before Thanksgiving leaving you with two hours of work that isn't even your work but you will be forced to complete qualifying you for, you guessed it, overtime.

401K Plan: Some companies do this really awesome thing where they reward you for setting some of your income aside for retirement by matching some percentage or amount to what you save. It will involve a lot of paperwork and financial lingo but just remember, if you don't start saving up for this you'll have to work until you die.

Financial Advisor: If you're lucky your company will hire one of these to help you weed through all that paperwork and make complicated decisions on matters you know nothing about. Use them, you aren't paying for their services so take advantage.

Heath Insurance: This amazing thing that let's you pay very little for expensive medical services. If you're offered it, take it.

Taxes: Suck. You will likely lose one-fourth of your income to these. Don't be shocked when you get your first paycheck and realize just how much you aren't making because you had to pay for education and whatnot. See, even if you graduate college loan free, you're still paying for school.

Credit: This guy is only a number, but he's pretty much the single most important thing you can have. Don't fuck up and go bankrupt or refuse to pay your bills because you need this for any thing big you plan to rent or buy, like say a place to live.

Okay so maybe a lot of this is self-explanatory, but on paper it's much more complicated. Just ask the ten million papers I have needed to fill out or file away during the 75 days I've been employed.

how to avoid creepy housemates (via craigslist)

2011-11-06T13:48:00.000-07:00

The following examples are real. Even better, they're exact quotes.

1. If their first response to your ad asks to see a photo
Example: Do u have pics? I wanna know if ur hot.

2. If they are way too eager to become housemates after the first email and don't give you the option of agreeing to it first, even though it was your ad
Example: Yes, I want to be your housemate. By the way, if we could get this in writing I'd appreciate it.

3. If they look like Aunt Spiker from James and the Giant Peach and ask weird questions during your visit (showing you their creepy basement and a bedroom the size of a closet is also a red flag)
Example: Have you ever been a follower? Are you interested in staying here for several years?

4. If they appear to be in need of a wife or baby sitter and not a housemate
Example: I'm really looking for a mature female who's kid friendly.

5. If they have no sense of morals
Example: I was seeing my gf and my bitch wife found out and kicked me out.

6. If there is a possibility they may be psychotic
Example: I need a room to stay as my wife and I are going through a temporary separation while I go to counseling for about a year.

7. They put their religion at the top of their list of priorities
Example: I can only live with Christians... are you Christian?

8. They can't spell, use proper syntax or utilize the great thing we call punctuation
Example: i saw ur ad and ned a roommate do u have a room 4 rent i want 2 be ur roommate

9. If they blatantly ignore one of the requirements in the ad and don't seem to understand that there's a reason you wrote what you did
Example: I know you aren't 420 friendly, but I can smoke outside. I smoke cigs too when I drink so I hope that's not a problem either even though you don't smoke.

10. They don't exist on facebook (or anywhere on the internet)
Why this matters: Come on who doesn't have a facebook these days? Or some sort of interweb path verifying their identity? Hermits are dangerous creatures, all that lack of socializing.

because it's been a month

2011-10-20T21:49:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted in about a month which means I'm long overdue for a post. Sounds about right, when am I not overdue for a post? Not to mention a new banner. The banner is going to have to be put on hold for a while seeing as I no longer have PowerPoint on my new iMac. Well, it's not really "new" anymore, but it's still pretty bomb diggity. Do people even say that anymore? It just sort of popped out of my head. Anyways, so while the new iMac is awesome and amazing, I'm still in the process of going from Tiger to Lion which is sort of like giving a 100 year old woman a facelift and expecting every wrinkle to go away. Was that even a good analogy? Anyways, so no PowerPoint and iWork Keynote is not very Auto Shape friendly so until I figure shit out, no changes on the banner front. I'm posting though so there's something. Okaaaay... moving on.

So what's up with me? Well I still have my job. I was convinced they'd fire me the first week but it turns out I am better at than I think. Hard to believe, but hey, they want to keep paying me I won't complain. Somedays are better than others though, I will admit that. I think right now the biggest thing I'm struggling with is how often I fuck things up. That and the stress levels I've been tossed into. Let's just say the learning curve is steep and the time in which I need to learn things is longer than the curve allows. Insert photo of the situation (click to enlarge) - I'm at the dotted line which means I have about 10 weeks left to learn everything I need to know before my supervisor goes on maternity leave. This is scary for two reasons. One, she won't be there to catch my fuck-ups. Two, I was told that the next thing I'm learning takes a year to master and I have roughly two months. To put it lightly, I'm shit-scared for next week.

I'm also moving in December. Where I'm moving I haven't figured out yet, but my lease is up so I'm essentially being evicted. In all fairness I knew it was coming, I just expected my housing choices to be a little more plentiful. I forgot in these last few months what a pain in the ass it is to look for a place to live. For some reason I thought living the the same city I'm looking would make things easier. Turns out that even living in Portland won't guarantee people respond to your emails and phone calls and in the four inquiries I've sent out only one has responded. Of course then you have the people that do respond and they turn out to be pot heads. "420 Friendly" is not the type of person I want to be living with, I don't trust stoners. Call it a stereotype, but the few possessions I own are nice and I don't want anyone with a joint to have access to them. So yeah, still looking. Hoping I find somewhere in the next couple weeks or I might have to get creative. Or shell out more money than I would like for a place. Have I mentioned how much I hate relocating residences?

There we go, an update on my life. I wish it were witty, maybe I'll post a tale of my drunken adventure involving the public worship of some internet superstar who goes by Moot in a couple days. I don't recall the complete events of the that night, but they definitely involved two of my favorite things - vodka and video games - and one of the least favorite things - vomit. I know, you're dying to hear the story now. That's what we call a cliffhanger.

caps locked grandma

2011-09-19T19:27:00.002-07:00

You know an easy way to tell if an email is from your grandmother without even looking at the sender? The entire email is in caps lock. I don't know if that's because she's going blind or is just computer illiterate. I will say that it makes all her emails look like they're urgent when in reality they're full of pointless anecdotes. For example apparently she's visiting my uncle. End anecdote. She's been cooking here and there for company. End anecdote. It's like reading one hundred one sentence anecdotes that don't even tie into one another. This must be why my mind often feels schizophrenic.

In other news that is over a week old, I have a job now. If you didn't just jump up in your chair while applauding you are probably not someone I will be sending a Christmas card to. I make pretty bomb cards too. If you just started clapping to get in on the card action you should know that I don't believe in do-overs. Anyways, back to the job. It's fantastic. You know you have a fantastic job when you feel completely incompetent the entire first week. That means there's lots of room for personal and professional growth. Which means lots of training. More training equals better salaries. See where I'm going with this? You think I'm joking but I am completely serious. It's been exactly a week since I started and the difference in what I know is astounding. My very first day they barely trusted me with a pipettor let alone a bottle of acid and I had to wear a lab coat the entire time. Today I went unsupervised carrying several bottles of acid sans lab coat and nobody said a word. I also knew what I was doing 80% of the time which is huge.

I should probably explain what the job is before I get too carried away. I'm working for an analytical company. For those non-science people analytical is just a fancy way of saying a form of chemistry that involves analyzing shit. Shit being anything you could possibly think of - including actual fecal specimens. I don't do that part though. I'm working for the metals department so I am essentially taking dirt or water and determining the concentrations of metal ions. Metal ions being things like mercury, lead, cadmium, vanadium, etc, etc. Pretty much the majority of the elements on the periodic table. So you may ask why this is important, well think environment. Think waste management. Think remediation. We get samples mostly from environmental consulting companies along with some engineering places or city departments. Pretty much anyone who needs to know how much "whatever" is in some bit of material. Depending on who you are you may find this incredibly fascinating or completely boring. I find it very fascinating. Which I guess is good since it's what I now do for a living. So yeah, that's pretty much a rough outline of my work. Of course it involves a lot more than that since there are instruments and proper protocols that have to be followed to a tee making life challenging, but like I said, I won't bore you.

So what else is new? Well not much. Work is now consuming my day and nights since I find myself doing research after work to be better at work. It's a vicious cycle. I'm still playing board games and HBGG has stopped attending which makes my life less awkward. I must have scared him away. I'm not too phased though, he was definitely an odd one. Other than that I spend my free time bumming out by watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory or The Office. It's all very scintillating stuff. It feels so good to actually have "work time" and "free time" again. I really do enjoy it when my weekends have meaning and aren't just like every other day.

well, that's awkward

2011-09-02T10:58:00.000-07:00

Willy eats feminine hygiene products. I had no idea this was occurring until my housemate was forced to awkwardly approach me one day and inform me that Willy was passing "girly stuff" for fear that he would die from his unhealthy eating habits. I felt really bad for Wade for having to bring up such an awkward topic. I honestly had no idea this was going on - I don't know how Willy was even managing to get access to these things.

See, I try to be one of those courteous female housemates who carefully wraps up and double bags all remnants of having to endure feminine torture on a monthly basis because well, I live with a male housemate who takes out the trash and shouldn't have to deal with what he calls "girly stuff." I even went as far as to place each carefully wrapped bag in a separate trash can in my closet so it was entirely my responsibility as it should be. Without my knowledge, what I appeared to be leaving were carefully wrapped presents for Willy to somehow dig out and ingest. Yeah, gross, but he's a dog so you know, they do things like this. Not to mention Willy is so good at being cute that he could probably get away with murder. Something I'm sure he's well aware with since he's decided to take up residence on my bed and use my legs as a headrest. Oh it's a good thing you're cute Wills.

sigh, mothers

2011-08-26T21:43:00.003-07:00

My mother: Do you sleep with the window open?

Me: It's summer, of course.

Mother: Maybe you shouldn't in case someone breaks in.

Me: Not going to happen, it's been in the high 80s with 45% humidity.

Mother: I want you to be safe, don't you have a fan.

Me: Yes, a window fan. That requires the window to be open.

Mother: Well maybe you should just keep the window shut.

Me: What so I can melt in my sleep?

Mother: Well do you have pepper spray?

Me: I don't think I want to answer this, you'd only worry.

Mother: Well go to a gun shop and get some.

Me: Okay, I'll do that next time I find myself wandering around in a gun shop.

Mother: Do it before Wade (the housemate) goes out of town.

Me: I don't even know if Portland has gun shops, it seems so anti-Portland.

Mother: Well find one. And buy a good brand.

Me: Only if you foot the bill, my bank account is not endorsing this ridiculous idea.

Mother: Fine, make sure you keep it by your bed.

Me: Yes mother, I'll put it right next to my baseball bat.

Mother: This isn't a joke.

Me: Oh no, I take the idea of someone disrupting my sleep to steal my decrepit macbook very seriously.

Mother: Okay, well then goodnight. Be safe.

Me: (sliding the window open) Mhm, of course.

Mother: What was that noise?

Me: Either someone is trying to break in or I just opened the window.

Mother: Chelsea....

Me: Night mom.

I know I live in a big(er) city now, but really?

death +1, life -1

2011-08-22T10:01:00.001-07:00

My internet was down for a couple days because of a douchebag neighbor who decided to try and steal my internet which in return knocked out the internet. Idiot. I'd egg his car except he has equal access to my own vehicle and I don't feel like starting some sort of sabotage war. Hypothetically though I'd win because I'm more clever and he has rocks for brains. Anyways, in the time that I was without internet it appears that life, maybe death is a more appropriate word, has decided to come steal candy from little children after punching them in the face. In other words, a shit storm of really unfortunate things has happened, things I just found out about yesterday when my internet was fixed.

Thing one, a kid I went to high school with was killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. I didn't know the kid that well, but I do wonder if there is some sort of protocol about writing nice things on his facebook wall. Did that sound insensitive? I really didn't mean for it to sound that blunt, but honestly, is that the protocol these days when people die? I've noticed it before and I just have to wonder, what the fuck is the world coming to? Are we really at a point in life where instead of calling up the family and offering up your sympathies, instead you write on his wall? I've never handled death particularly well, and by that I mean I've never gotten utterly hung up on people's deaths like some people, say my mother. I do have to wonder about the whole facebook memorial posts though. It's like the opposite of a facebook birthday post and we all know how I feel about those. I think I'm starting to sound like a prick now though so I'll stop and spend the next minute in silence in honor of his death.

Thing two, my neighbor back in Flagstaff who is the sweetest lady with the nicest husband and cutest animals who I used to pet sit for is in a coma. I was definitely saddened by this news. Apparently she was out to dinner with her husband and got up to go to the bathroom. When she didn't come back he had someone go check on her and they found her unconscious. Now she's in a coma and the doctors are trying to figure out what happened. From my limited physiology knowledge my bet is a stroke, but I still find the news incredibly sad. I hate when bad things happen to healthy people and this weekend seemed a little too full of bad things happening to healthy people for my liking.

Other than that, my life just feels like one small unfortunate event after another. Nothing that bad has happened, but the small things are getting me down a little. I'm networking with more people than I can keep track of and none of them have turned up any jobs which makes me feel like I'm wasting my time. Except I know I'm not wasting my time since applying to positions online would be an even bigger waste of time and that's what I would be doing instead. At least my business card collection is thriving and I’ve decided that when I do get hired (yes, I did say when, I’m trying to be an optimist)that I will make a massive collage out of all the cards and put the winning onein the center. Surrounded by gold stars and glitter. With flashing lights. I have started applying to positions working in clerical work which just depresses me even more. Not that I've been hired yet, but the thought of using my science degree to file makes me want to shoot my brains out.

Now before I start to sound too whiny, let me just say that things are shitty for everyone. Having networked and smoozed with not only people in my field, but just talking to people looking for work, things suck everywhere. Companies are downsizing, jobs that didn't use to require prior experience are asking for 5+ years (baristas, nannies, etc) and the unemployed are staying unemployed because companies refuse to hire them. I went to a potluck yesterday where I met some really nice girls and we all commiserated over the economy and how hard the job market is and despite it sounding depressing, it was a little reassuring to know I wasn't the only one. Here I've been thinking something was tragically wrong with me, turns out it's not me that's tragic but the whole nation. What a relief to know how much life is sucking all around.

HBGG is like a finger monkey

2011-08-14T19:34:00.004-07:00

I've been a little under the weather all week, well more than just a little with some sort of weird flu/migraine hybrid taking over my immune system.

I'm pretty sure I got at least the flu part from horny board game guy. Yeah that's right, I gave him a nickname. HBGG for short, sounds like some sort of disease which I think is perfect, the new H1N1 right? I learned in Microbiology that if you are able to track when you first feel sick back to 48 hours that you can determine where you picked up your sickness. Well I started feeling sick on Wednesday night during board games (more on that later) and yup, 48 hours before I was having my mouth invaded by HBGG. Culprit found. Thus ensued one of the most miserable illnesses I've had to date. Of course part of what made it so miserable was the fact that Urgent Care here refuses to prescribe anything. In Arizona I could walk in, say I was suffering from a major headache, and walk out twenty minutes later with a prescription for Vicodin. Instead, this is how my twenty minute visit went.

Me: I have one of the worst headaches I've had to date, it feels like a finger monkey has burrowed between my kidney and my rib cage, I'm running a 102 fever, and this morning I didn't move for two hours after waking because I thought I was going throw up from all the pain I was in.

Urgent Care Lady: You must have a stomach bug, that's been going around.

Me: No, I don't think that's it. The nausea is more because my head is in so much pain. Nothing I take has worked.

Urgent Care: You should take extra strength tylenol and stay in bed, just let it pass.

Me: Tylenol doesn't work on me, never has, even when I was a kid. I don't complain of pain often, I need something stronger.

Urgent Care: The stomach bug should pass, I recommend the BRAT diet for now. Okay, feel better, bye now! (She says as she prints off handouts from WebMD, seriously!? WebMD of all places?? This is a licensed professional here and she's feeding me advice from a website and telling me to take something I've told her is ineffective. I hate you Oregon medical care).

So that's how I spent my Thursday morning. I then ignored her advice and instead purchased a potato which I sliced up and laid across my forehead. No I'm not shitting you that's what I really did and yes it really does work. Holistic healing methods for the win. Thank you mother for raising me in a world where I don't have to rely on incompetent fools to diagnose my medical problems. Anyways, so I still have a few after effects of my illness, mainly a slightly throbbing head, but I'm feeling much better no thanks to the idiots that work at Urgent Care.

Now onto HBGG updates. Wednesday was really awkward. Me feeling like crap didn't help the situation much. I should mention that I never did send him an email telling him I never wanted to see him outside of board game night ever again. I decided to wing it, of course this was before I felt like shit so in my head it was supposed to go something like this.

Me: Hey, so I've decided maybe we shouldn't see each other outside of board game night, it's just really awkward for me.

HBGG: Okay, I understand.

THE END

Oh perfect world, how I wish you were real. Instead it went something like this. I got to game night before he did so I promptly joined in on a game so I wouldn't have to play a game with him. He arrived and did that awkward lingering thing that people do when they want to talk to someone but never actually say anything. I ignored him, even when he did touch my sunglasses and try to flirt with me. He gave up and joined another table. I ended my game and was beginning to suffer from the "I feel like I'm going to vomit" phase of my illness so I took my leave as quickly as possible and only offered him and awkward wave.

He then sent me an email telling me I should have asked him not to come to Wednesday night if it was going to be so uncomfortable for him. He implied I made up my illness like some sissy girl. I sent him an email back explaining the depth of my illness and threw in a bit about not being that into him and suggesting we no longer see other socially. He accepted but blamed me for thinking too much. I took offense and told him that's what people with science degrees do, we think. (Yes, that was uncalled for, but seeing as he's got no life plan I feel it was deserving). He wrote back saying that it was too bad we couldn't hang out anymore. I didn't reply as that would continue a line of email conversations which I didn't particularly feel like having as they would suggest I was still into his personality. That my friends is the actual THE END. Yes, The Jets had me in mind when they wrote the song. By the way, this is my 500th post. Go me.

cat lady is back

2011-08-08T20:48:00.002-07:00

Warning: This post is not only long, but contains things you are better left not knowing - things I wish I could somehow un-know. I can't believe I'm posting this.

First dates are always awkward, and considering that I am no dating guru, hell I rarely even date, it's no shocker that I find them awkward. However, I went into my first date thinking - I've rarely dated, it should be totally fine. Yes, naive little me went in with the mindset that inexperience would shield me from horrible events occurring. So I mentioned that this guy goes to my board game meetup, what I didn't quite mention that up until he asked me out, I really didn't know much about him. I certainly didn't admire him for his life choices of not having a plan, I always have a plan and yes, I'm unemployed now, but at least my plan got me a degree and some motivation. Except it was one date so I decided plans aside, maybe there would be something else there. Except, I was also not attracted to him on a physical level either.

I'm not saying I'm super picky, but there are certain things that attract me - somewhat geeky boys with dark curly hair (ahem, I'm talking to you Darren Criss) are totally my thing. When I was in middle school it was Seth Cohen (OC anyone?). I went to terrible Adam Brody flicks just to see him, yes, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've decided to be completely candid in this post because I want my readers to never feel bad about themselves. Trust me, it's about to get a lot more awkward on so many levels, levels without clothes. Oh wait, so where was I? Physical attraction, definitely lacking. I'm not saying he's repulsive to look at or anything, but I connected with him on more of a "hey, let's be friends" level.

I am all about giving people first chances though, and I told him this outright. Okay, so he offers to come over and cook for me. Totally cool, I love a guy that can cook - turn on. Except what turned out to be his idea of cooking was tossing a salad together. I'm sorry, but in my definition chopping up a few veggies and sticking them in a bowl is not cooking. I can whip up a pretty mean salad in my sleep, I don't consider anything I can accomplish while half conscious an impressive feat. Then he suggests we go to a redbox and get a movie, yeah okay, movies are fine. So we head to my nearest Fred Meyer (oh look, a motif) and rent Burlesque partly because I was getting bored scrolling through the titles and because my mom liked it and recommended it to me. A little while later I am awkwardly perched on my bed with an almost stranger next to me watching a movie on my laptop because the living room couches are full of dog hair and would have made me feel even more awkward.

I can tell he want to be closer and cuddle, I'm boy stupid but not that stupid. I guess he got tired of me acting like a board because he outright said, "Is it okay if we cuddle." Any chemistry that had the potential to exist just vanished completely. I'm sorry, but if it feels unnatural to cuddle with a guy that's because it probably is. If you have to bluntly ask, it's probably not the right time. Except I've been single for a LOOOONG time and pair that with me being away from home and slightly homesick, I tell him yes. Have I made my readers cringe yet? Yeah, I'm cringing too and this is me and my stupid actions we're dissecting. So we're about half way through the movie and the entire time he's been getting closer, and closer, and closer. The theme music to Jaws would have fit in perfectly. He starts kissing my hair and I know he wants to kiss me because he does that really awkward thing where he tries to get closer and tilt your head except every time he did that my neck went nimrod straight and it would have taken a lot more than a few nudges to move it. But I'm awkward, so I keep on resisting.

Finally he gets his moment in and I don't even know how the hell it's happened but suddenly we're kissing. I don't claim to be a good kisser by any means as my kissing experiences are few and far between, but I have never felt so incredibly turned off by the amount of saliva one possesses in one's mouth. I swear to you it was slimy and wet and I would probably be more attracted to a Saint Bernard because at least they're cute. I'm thinking to myself that I must just be out of practice, maybe it will get bett- oh gross, he went straight for tongue which is not only slimy and wet but warm. I'm not really a french kissing kind of girl and while I've been kissed with tongue before, I don't remember it ever being that awful. Except for some reason my body won't stop because I'm still awkward, I'm still lonely, and I'm still the same girl who has been single for way to long.

So we're kissing and now nearly horizonal on my bed - the same bed with the same duvet that my mommy sewed for me, but this isn't registering, what's registering is how horrible his kisses feel and how incredibly turned off I am by everything he is doing. The caresses don't felt romantic, the trying to get up my shirt feels like a huge invasion of privacy, but somewhere in my stupid brain I'm thinking maybe somewhere the chemistry will suddenly appear and I'll become attracted to him. I can tell he's getting turned on, not to mention leaving hickeys on my neck that I now have to try and hide for my professional meetings this week, and before you know it I'm in my underwear and he's completely naked. I'm not only letting a stranger see me in my birthday suit, but I'm letting him get to know my body all too well for a guy I just met. Are you cringing yet? Are you judging me yet? Because I sure as hell am. Have I made you feel sufficiently awkward? I can't believe I'm about to post this.

Then it finally registers in my stupid little brain - "Chelsea, what the fuck are you doing? You're almost naked, you have some guy who you only just met for a first date pretty close to getting his rocks off on your handmade duvet, you're a virgin without a strip of protection, and you aren't even attracted to this guy. STOP RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY." Yes, I imagined my mother's voice and yes I blame the duvet. Except I can't blame it because at that moment I was so incredibly thankful. He seemed to sense my sudden "Oh fuckity fuck what the fuck am I doing?" moment because right then he offered me Plan A - we walk to Fred Meyer and pick up some condoms, Plan B - he does the pull out method (which is 0% effective by the way) or C - He goes to the bathroom to masturbate while I have the option of watching. Right then I know - any guy who suggests the "pull out" method is definitely not the guy for me, even when he does swear "I've got a lot of control." You ever seen that condom commercial with the screaming kid? Yeah, I'm sure his dad said the same thing. Yeah take sex ed buddy, not in this vagina. Masturbation Plan aside, I'm completely positive that I am keeping my virginity intact.

As calmly and collected as possible I ask what time it is and count my blessings when it's past five and he had somewhere else to be. So we dress and we made our leave - it's then I realize my roommate has been home the whole time, but I'm so relieved with the end of the date that I don't much care at that point how much he heard. I drive him to where he needs to be, we share one sloppy, slimy kiss in the car which I pull away from earlier than he wanted, and I wave goodbye swearing to him that I'll see him again while simultaneously swearing to myself that he will not be allowed in my room ever again. Looking back I'm convinced sex is what he wanted from me. Lack of condom aside. No guy has told me I'm that beautiful so many times and praised me for how unique and special I am. No guy has moved that quickly without having secret motives.

So how can I possibly explain what happened on this date even when somewhere in my brain I still registered what was happening? My brain was somehow abducted by aliens and my randy teenage moment came eight years too late. Or something. This my friends is what happens when you literally have no self confidence and some guy comes and tries to sweep you off your feet, you know it's too good to be true, but sometime after the countless chick lit books you think it's possible. Now I can't get his smell past my nose and I can't stop shaking and stopping my eyes from tearing up. How the fuck did I become that girl? You know, the easy girl who almost has sex on date number one? I am such a cool, calculating human being and at one point I'd even go to say that I was smart, but now I just feel stupid. Now I have to send a really awkward email telling him that I'm just not ready and that I think we shouldn't see each other "socially" anymore. What's worse is that I have to see him Wednesday after this email is sent and pretend that he hasn't seen me naked.

There it is, one date and I'm convinced I want to be a cat lady. Or maybe a lesbian. I can't decide which seems worse at the moment - not that I have anything against gays, I just can't imagine a girl feeling me up. You might be wondering why I decided to share this story with you. Well, most of all I want you to learn from my mistakes and to not feel bad about any stupid things you've done in your life. Hell who am I kidding, I want you to write about something even more awkward that you've done just to make me feel better. I took quite the hiatus from blogging and haven't felt truly inspired lately, but today my love for blogging returned in full force - because after today the only people I felt comfortable sharing this experience with are my readers. I'm sorry I treat you so crappy and haven't been reading about your lives, I promise to try harder. If you read this whole thing, thank you and if you didn't, well perhaps it's best if you just read the last several sentences. I hope I didn't scare you away.

guess who has a date?

2011-08-07T18:14:00.001-07:00

In case you didn't catch it from the title - I HAVE A DATE! Four years of college and not one guy asked me out and less than two months in Portland and I've been asked out already. Amazing how the world works. All through college I was surrounded by people who were actively dating/hooking up/crushing/etc and not being one of those people I somehow became convinced that there was something wrong with me. Was I too awkward in person? Too fat? Too ugly? Too nerdy? Too plain? Too boring? It did a number on my self confidence to feel like the only person in the world who was single and had been single forever.

Have I mentioned that I've only had one "real" boyfriend in my entire life? My fling in preschool with a boy named Corey doesn't count, otherwise I'd be all the way up to two amazing "real" boyfriends. I also use the term "real" because those of you who've been reading about my life since I began blogging know a little bit about my long-distance-didn't actually meet in real life-thing with Matt. I know that I loved Matt, but the fact that we never had any physical contact whatsoever makes it a little awkward to call him my boyfriend, hell it's awkward enough to admit that I fell hard for him.

So that mess aside, I have a date. With one of the guys I play games with every Wednesday night. I'm not sure if I should be frightened by this fact or ecstatic since he's seen me completely uncensored and in gym clothes and yet still found something attractive about me. He is a tad older than me, but certainly not enough to give me gold-digger status or anything. Still within my own decade. Did I mention that he told me he misses me already since we last saw each other Wednesday? Um, swoon.

The only thing I'm truly worried about is how awkward board game night might become should we not connect for whatever reason. I'm hoping since we're both pretty relaxed and fairly outgoing people that things would be fine no matter what - but you never know with these things. Anyways, I'm being a total girl, but can you really blame me? For the first time in my life there is some hope I won't become a cat lady. Even if it does only last one date.

a tranny and a mathematician walk into a...

2011-08-04T20:26:00.000-07:00

I love the people I play board games with once a week. Mostly because they are the perfect embodiment of what Portland is about. The campaign "Keep Portland Weird" comes to mind.

Let's take an outsider's view to the group. Let's say you walk in to your closest Fred Meyer (grocery store) for your typical day of errands and saw this group playing board games, you would likely stop and stare for two reasons. The first would probably be on the grounds that not only are there people playing board games in the dining area of a grocery store, but they are the strangest group of people you've ever seen in one place at one time. The second thing that would halt you in your tracks would likely be that not only do the people all look completely different, despite their many differences they are having fun. A lot of fun - fun with yelling, laughing, and giving off a sense of complete comradeship. Except you're in Portland, so perhaps you wouldn't stop and stare because weird things happen all the time here.

So perhaps it's no surprise that on Wednesday night at any given time I can be found playing board games with a tranny named Becky who has more cleavage than I will ever have, a mathematician recovering from an alcohol addiction, a zealous dude who's hitchhiked across the country, a conservative banker, an overweight DDR champion, or numerous other individuals even more normal or zany than the rest. We are the unemployed, the employed, the stoned, the sober and the "weird" that help make Portland so amazing.

The greatest thing about this city and the thing that I love the most is that nothing is too wacky or too out there and you can literally be as weird as you want and nobody will stop to stare at you. You want to paint your body pink and run through downtown? Go for it. In fact people will probably assume you're doing it for some sort of breast cancer campaign and may even throw a few dollars your way. You want to sit on a street corner and play the national anthem on a kazoo? Be prepared to compete with the guy on the other corner with the same act. This city is the perfect blend of books, food, music, art and people. Like a voodoo doughnut - there's something for everyone.

new people

2011-07-07T19:46:00.000-07:00

I recently, and by "recently" I mean spontaneously due to utter loneliness and boredom, joined a website called "Meetup.com." I know, it sounds like some sort of creepy eHarmony knock-off but before you stereotype me as some sort of desperate single, hold your jets and let me explain. Essentially it's a way for people in the same city to find other people with similar interests and get together and do said interest together (totally platonically and without romantic pretense). I know it sounds corny, and yes somewhat desperate, but I'm telling you, this place is a lifesaver for someone who just moved to a big city without knowing anyone and just needs some people to do things with. Oh hey, I'm someone who just moved to a new city, sounds perfect!

It's also super fun. Well okay, the one meetup event I've attended was super fun so I'm a little biased, but it was awesome. I went to a board game meetup (nerd alert) and played some crazy intense (not that crazy or intense, I'm just out of practice) strategy eurogame called Puerto Rico. I still don't know what classifies a board game as a "eurogame" since apparently my vast knowledge of family and party board games makes me a novice, but I'm willing to learn more. I also met a few pretty nice people and experienced some lovely commradery for being a newbie. I may even go again, no I will definitely go again next week because I'm a loser who has nothing better going on Wednesday nights.

I've also joined a couple of other meetup groups, one of which is a book club (double nerd alert). In my defense this book club is going to the Oregon Brewfest in a couple of weeks and they hold all of their meetings at a public brew house. Did I mention they're all women (because men don't read)? How completely awesome is that? A women's book club that sits around discussing literature while drinking beer. I'm super excited and still have about three weeks until I even meet them. Speaking of books and being a nerd, I am also the proud new owner of a Multnomah county (aka East Portland) library card. I don't think I've had a new library card since high school and there's just something about the shiny new piece of plastic that hasn't been scratched up and bent yet that makes me giddy. Or perhaps it's also the fact that I now have unlimited access to even more books. The only downside is that the libraries here charge late fees and coming from a girl who was spoiled by no late fees and always returned books weeks late, this may take some getting used to. They aren't exactly pennies either, I'm talking quarters by the day.

Other than that, nothing much new is going on here. I'm still jobless and spending money much faster than I make it, but I've decided as a 22 year old who has been frugal and responsible her whole life (seriously, I still have birthday money from ages five to sixteen in my savings account) that I'm allowed to live a little bit. Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't spend my money on frivolous childhood toys since I can now spend it on lovely adult outings and adventures, I was one smart kid!

smart dog

2011-07-05T19:46:00.000-07:00

My roommates dog, whose name is Willy (something I should have mentioned in the last post) has outsmarted me. It's not everyday the college graduate feels inferior to a dog that hasn't even been to obedience school so I felt like a post was needed to record the event. So how did a species that lacks opposable thumbs outsmart a species with a pair? He locked me in my own bedroom.

Yes, you read that statement correctly, I was locked in my own room by a dog. No dog is not a metaphor, no this dog is not some crazy talented seeing eye dog trained to do these sorts of things, no the dog is not part robot and no to whatever other crazy explanation you can come up with to justify this experience. Also no to any questions regarding me being inebriated or crazy. Or delusional.

I woke up this morning to Willy's frantic attempts to get into my room. This happens occasionally after my roommate has left for work and he needs out. That is, Willy not my roommate. I rolled out of bed (quite literally since I'm still bed frameless) and crawled my way to my bedroom door only to realize it was locked. Now I think it's important here to mention that my bedroom door locks from the outside of the room. I have no idea why the door knobs were installed that way, the logic behind Portland construction is not something I've looked into yet. I tried the handle again thinking maybe I just didn't turn it hard enough - no, it was definitely locked. I pondered the likelihood that I was still dreaming, but decided that due to the lack of orange juice cartons, dancing candy bars or hitchhiking dogs I was in fact awake. Not to mention in my dreams the sensation of a cold door handle is never actually felt. Things just aren't that realistic in Chelsea Dreamland. I'm getting off topic.

My best guess at what happened to put me in this situation is that in Willy's enthusiastic attempts to enter aka lots of jumping and pawing at the door knob, he must have turned the knob the wrong direction and locked it into place instead of opening it. Apparently in Portland the fourth is an excuse to light off fireworks all week. I really do mean all week. I've been hearing pops and bangs since freaking Friday. At first each sudden burst of ruckus reminded me of guns going off and I was quite paranoid and jumpy, now it's at the point of being stupid. Have I mentioned these occur at all hours of the day and night?

Given nothing here burns apparently this is acceptable holiday behavior and apparently Willy doesn't like fireworks. As noticed by his frantic whining and locking of rooms with people inside them. Being the intelligent homo sapien that I am and grateful I was locked in my bedroom where I have an endless supply of potential escape tools, I fashioned a bobby pin (yeah, I'm a regular MacGyver) into a key aka unbent it so I could stick it in the keyhole, push the pin and make my escape. The entire time being whined at by Willy who was on the other side apparently unaware of what he had done and thought I was playing a cruel game with him instead. No puppy, the trick is on me.

So that's how I spent five minutes of my morning the day after America gained its independence - gaining independence from my own room. See what I did there? Although I am glad to see that I still work well under stress and half conscious. On another note not related to dogs, dreaming or fireworks, I took a hike near Mount Hood last Friday. Apparently it has snow year round, um, you're crazy northwest! I hiked to Mirror Lake... I'm sure you can guess how it got that name by the photo.

my very humble abode (plus dog)

2011-06-27T19:45:00.000-07:00

My mother asked for photos of my room and I figured I would spread them around the interwebs as well. Why not? So what does a college graduate's room look like? Unfortunately it looks a lot like a dorm room but with cleaner carpet and mismatched furniture. And in college at least I had a bed frame and an actual drawer for my winter socks. I have upgraded to a full size mattress though. Oh yeah, I'm living large.

Yes, the dog is allowed on the bed. Only on the blue blanket though. Some training to get said dog to stay on the blanket and not cuddle up with my pillows was involved.

Sadly these were the only books I had room to pack. The other ten boxes are still stored in my old closet at my parent's house. Yes, ten. The only piece of furniture that I personally owned in Flagstaff, a beautiful blue leather reading chair, was also left behind.

old friends

2011-06-19T19:42:00.000-07:00

Upon moving to Portland, I immediately reconnected with a friend who went to high school with me. I thought it would be a little awkward reconnecting with someone who I hadn't seen in three years, but so far it's been really nice having someone to hang out with. On Friday we met up to wander around downtown Portland and he was nice enough to not only show me around but give me tips spanning from the proper pronunciation of streets/rivers/you-name-it to how to (more) easily tell direction in a city without peaks. It helped that for once the weather was absolutely gorgeous and according to many Portlanders, or at least the broadcasters on the radio, yesterday's weather is what typical June is like. That is until a weekend of rain and cloudy skies, but what can you do? I don't find it that horrible, but I also have been living in sunny Arizona so I'm not as deprived of my Vitamin D.

Back to yesterday. We ended up doing quite a bit of walking since he and I both had no idea what exactly there is to do downtown. When I did a little pre-online research about downtown Portland eating out at restaurants seemed to be the only thing suggested and neither my stomach nor my budget could do that all day so walking became the activity instead. I'm not sure where we walked downtown and even though my awesome tour guide/friend did a great job of pointing out streets, I'm just not good at remembering all the details. I'm more of a walk until I either get lost or find my destination type of person so street names never really stick in my brain. He did help me with the basics though so I'd call that a small victory.

After both of our feet were sore beyond their measure, we went to the river and just sort of watched it for a while. I miss being by a river. In Germany I think I took advantage of the lazy feeling that accompanies people watching by the river and it was nice to do that again. Not to mention, there are definitely some worthy specimens in Portland for people watching. We then hopped on a streetcar (which are free downtown, how awesome is that?) and took it to Powell's book store. I have just one word to describe Powell's: wow. I have never seen so many rooms full of so many different types of books. It's more like a library and I do love myself a good library. Except then I reminded myself that should I wish I could actually purchase that book on 1000 types of curries or a feminists view of the world. In fact they have subjects that I didn't even know where considered subjects. Metaphysics? It's a subject. Military? Also a subject. In fact they have at least a bookcase dedicated to the most off beat subjects.

Once we grew weary of our wandering (say that five times fast) we headed back to where he was parked and he drove me all the way to Vancouver, back to Portland, and all through the southern neighborhoods of the city pointing out random bits of information. Despite the traffic, it was really interesting and informative and now when someone tells me they work in Lake Oswego (aka my roommate), I can actually see that place in my head and give it a location relative to where I live. All in all yesterday was nice, I got to feel a little more social for not knowing hardly anyone and now my feet are screaming for a rest. They received their rest yesterday since I spent most of the day curled up with a mug of Twinnings and my kindle.

Today the same awesome friend that showed me around on Friday invited me to a potluck with his extended family and while I was expecting an awkward encounter that would involve me trying to convince them I was not just some random girl off the street, it also turned into a rather enjoyable event. I love family get togethers, especially when they aren't my own. I know that sounds kind of awkward and like a pretty weird thing to say, but there's something incredibly interesting and entertaining about being around such a friendly group of people. I can't help but love the banter that results and even amidst the inside jokes, I still feel a part of something so warm and welcoming.

I get to be the random stranger that everyone wants to know about and it's not like I enjoy the attention, but I enjoy the freshness that comes with describing myself to a group of people who don't already know my ambitions or anything about me. I'm not sure if that makes sense. Apparently they liked me too since I've been invited to future picnics and game nights and it will be really nice having a family-like group without the drama that comes with dealing with my own family. In short, reconnecting with old friends isn't nearly as awkward as one would expect and I may have even gained a sort of pseudo second family out of it. Sometimes it's nice to have the feeling of home completely away from home.

mount tabor

2011-06-17T19:41:00.000-07:00

My favorite place in Portland has to be Mount Tabor Park. Seeing as I've only explored about a tenth of the city that's probably not saying much, but I have a feeling it will remain one of my favorite spots. It's only a mile away from where I live making it easy to walk to (without getting lost, go me!) and it's brimming with trails, cyclists, children, dogs, runners, and stoners. Yeah, I don't really get the appeal of hiking up a small hill/mountain to smoke pot either, but it's Portland so I don't question these things. I would have taken a photo of the beautiful Mount Tabor, but apparently my cell phone whom I've named Wilma (not the Flintstone) dislikes doing that. Have I mentioned how technologically unsavvy I am?

I've also realized that being in a city filled with incredibly fit people makes me feel very unfit. Everywhere you go there are people jogging, biking, or doing things that in general are classified as some form of exercise. It's kind of like Europe except the sculpted calves here could give Germans a run for their Euros. I saw a guy biking the other day and I could see each curve of his gastocnemius muscle. It was amazing, slightly creepy and grotesque, but pretty amazing nonetheless. So perhaps it's a good thing I've been going to Mount Tabor and doing a little jogging/walking. I also feel like a super human coming from 7000 feet so until that wears off I might as well take advantage of my super human lungs. Still, you know when you're being out jogged by a 70 year woman and a group of stoners that you should probably try to do something remotely active on a somewhat regular basis. The blisters on my toes from walking downtown disagree with me, but what do they know anyways?

Furniture Update: I am now the proud owner of a secondhand desk. It's beautiful. Having a large workspace has been lacking for far too long.

bed adventures

2011-06-14T19:34:00.000-07:00

I now have a mattress. My room still looks like some sort of weird combination between a storage shed and a bachelor pad (tragic I know), except I don't think bachelors would have a bookcase brimming with books. On the plus side at least now I won't acquire scoliosis from sleeping on the floor. Getting the mattress was quite the adventure and I encountered one weird specimen of a lady during the process.

I'm talking serious Professor Trelawney material here. Bottle cap glasses with thick black lenses, frizzy white hair and the lingering scent of an old attic that seemed to follow her around. The fact that she lived in a giant creaky house from 1905 perched on a hillside helped the image considerably. Interestingly enough, when I first walked into her house she grabbed hold of my hand and I was certain she was going to try and read my palm. Turns out she was just giving me almonds to feed her schizophrenic dog.

After being offered multiple pieces of furniture that I had no interest in let alone room for, I hauled my "new" mattress up a winding rock path through some thick pink flowers the whole time debating whether it was even worth the trouble. However, after a night of sleeping on what is an undoubtedly comfortable mattress despite it's peachy frilliness, I would have hauled it three times the distance for the comforts that come with having a bed. No bed bugs either, I'd call this situation a definite win as far as my Portland adventures are concerned.

Now all that's left to find is a desk so I can finish unpacking...

a new place

2011-06-13T11:01:00.002-07:00

Moving to a new city is scary. You don't know anyone aside from your roommate who you met over craigslist. And you don't know very much about him other than the few sentences he decided to divulge on the internet. At least his dog is really friggin cute.

You also don't know where you're going or what streets are even considered main streets. Or which streets are one way which is terrifying. In fact you're beginning to rely on your Tomtom that you've named Bonnie more than your own sense of direction. Which let's face it, kind of sucked to begin with.

You don't know which areas of town are "safe" and which ones aren't. You don't know whether you'll be mugged walking the one mile to the grocery store. For all you know the worst that could happen is breaking some sort of pedestrian law you weren't aware of since you just moved here. In fact you don't happen to know any laws in Oregon and could be breaking ten right now without even knowing it.

It's a big pile of scary. It's also exciting. But mostly scary.

The distinct lack of feeling like this is home doesn't help eliminate the scary. It certainly doesn't help that your room has one piece of furniture in it which just happens to be a bookshelf. Like you can sleep on that for the night right? Maybe all those cardboard boxes that are half unpacked could be turned into some furniture? At least the floor is pretty comfortable, relatively speaking. It's not wood so that's a plus. In fact it's pretty plush compared to some of the places you've slept before.

So you tell yourself to just suck it up and get over any fears you currently have. This is your dream. Remember four years ago when you wanted to go to college in the Northwest and were talked out of it? Remember how you cried and moped around for a week declaring that your life would be over if you had to stay in Arizona for college? Well you survived and now you're exactly where you wanted to be. and now Sure, it's slightly frightening, but you knew it would be. Anywhere new is scary.

So suck it up and just live.

when the world ends, i'll be ready

2011-05-18T19:56:00.001-07:00

Dear adolescent Chelsea, I have just one question for you, why the hell did you save everything?? You're really making my life difficult these days. In all honesty, I don't know if I'm going through some sort of quarter life crisis where things don't have any value, but I have probably thrown away or donated over half of the things that are in my old bedroom at my parents house. And there's still stuff taking space! Ahhhh, it's like my own personal OCD nightmare. I get twitchy just looking at the piles molesting what used to be a clean bedroom floor.

I have collages from third grade. Third grade! Can you believe it! Collages from when I went through my "Michelle Kwan is the greatest human being on the planet" and "Aren't monkeys adorable?" phase. It's like some creepy monkey-figure skating tribute with puff paint and glitter. I have enough knick-knacks and rocks and silly childhood books to entertain a classroom of kindergartners and don't even get me started on the sheer volume of assignments I've saved. It's like a freaking Chelsea museum where every single facet has been carefully preserved under dust. Minus the creepy taxidermy animals and things that are actually valuable. I can't help asking myself why the hell my parents a) allowed me to take all this with me when we moved eight years ago and b) haven't thrown any of it away during my four years away at college.

I've come to the conclusion that as a child I collected everything. Or maybe I hit my collection years as a teenager. Either way, some of these things shouldn't even be collected. Like those little bead animal key chains and glow stick bracelets that have probably been dead for at least a decade, oh and how could I forget the wildlife magazines that are dated from 1995 through 1997. I don't even remember getting a subscription to them or why I would want one. Oh right, it must have been because of the monkeys.

I've come to the conclusion that I don't ever want to save this much crap ever again. After living in a dorm room with the bare essentials for four years I've decided that is the way I like it. Being able to fit everything into my car to flee in event of a fire or zombie apocalypse is a huge plus. Not to mention, I don't want to be reminded of all the countless hectares of precious rain forest I've slaughtered to "get an education." I'm probably going to end up as one of those sad, depressing people who lives in some hole in the wall apartment with only a single table and chair or something. A sure sign that she never has company and lives out of a suitcase because she's too frugal to purchase a bureau. Or something like that. I fear for my future. Not nearly as much as I fear for yours though since I'll at least be allowed on the spaceship that's going to save all of humanity should they impose a "two carry-on only" rule.

goodbye college

2011-05-16T11:52:00.000-07:00

It's taken me a while to formulate my next post and some might think it's because I've been trying to figure out a way to incorporate penises into my next post smoothly. A challenge presented by some blond guy who apparently has some influence on the interwebs. As much as I would love to bow down to some form of blogging master who is more popular than me, the reason for my brief blogging stint is actually due to finals. Correction, my last finals ever. Well until I decide to go back to school.

In honor of completing my undergraduate degree, I pulled my last all nighter the night before my last final. I would like to think it's because I felt nostalgic, but in reality it's because I decided to put off studying for that final until 12 hours before the exam. Do I recommend this tactic? Let me think about that for a brief moment. Hell yeah. Studying ahead of time is so overrated. Especially for classes you don't care about. Of course only needing a 55% on the test to guarantee my A doesn't hurt either.

So with that test out of the way, I'm graduated. Well, I suppose I won't technically be granted my shiny new degree until the mean people upstairs have made sure I've passed all my classes, but I've never been one to wait for their petty little bureaucracy to get shit together. I know I passed and they can't tell me otherwise. The weight off my shoulders is gone, my posture has improved already, hell I feel so mature now. Except for the other night when I compared a fellow resident's spoon to a set of testes when she claimed they were eyeballs. Or the same night when I discussed at length the things that can be removed from your mouth after being put into it which included (in order) a cigarette, a lollipop and a penis. A conversation that is really going to make me miss dorm life. Hell, I already miss it and it's only been four days.

I've realized just how much I love my fellow residents. I really haven't gotten to know them to the extent I would have liked and spending three hours entertaining ourselves with a giant exercise ball and a camera in the hallway has proved this fact. I should have realized this a few months ago when we spent an hour playing with a giant paper airplane I had named Sherman that these are some very special ladies who will always inspire me to be myself, no matter how crazy and unique that makes me. I spent the last couple weeks actually staying up late with them and I can't help regretting the fact that until a few weeks ago I spent that time sleeping. I really should have just sucked it up because sometimes it's worth missing sleep to get to know some truly awesome people. My very last night in the dorms was spent sliding down the halls on mattresses and squirting each other with tiny squirt guns and while it was a great distraction from reality, the fact still stands that come August I won't be going back there. Okay, I'm getting sappy now. It's true though. Living in a building swarming with estrogen for three years is probably one of the best support systems a girl could ask for, drama ridden or not.

I think the concept I'm having the hardest time grasping is that life will move on like it always does, without my presence. I always struggle with this when I move on with my life and some are left behind to move on with theirs. For some reason I'm convinced the inside jokes will stop and the fun won't happen. Not that I see myself as conceited or more important, but being so far away always makes me feel so disconnected. I just can't believe it's over. College, life in the dorms, that feeling of bliss that comes with no responsibility. It's time to live now. I just need to figure out where to start.

cray cray

2011-05-04T19:51:00.001-07:00

I'm having a terribly stressful Reading Week which has consisted of me watching YouTube, feng shuiing my dorm room one last time, rereading The Hunger Games and doing practically everything else but studying for my finals which are less than a week away. So as you can imagine, it's been terribly difficult, in fact I haven't even picked up a textbook since last Thursday. Oh the stress of it all!

Given my overwhelming workload, it's no wonder that I managed to grab my groceries from my cart this afternoon and leave my purse behind only to realize once I had returned home that I had not only driven without my license, but was missing my wallet. Allow for brief momentary freak out. Now cue hasty driving back to the store on a very low tank of gas yelling at cars left and right to drive faster than the speed limit (really people, they're more like guidelines anyways!). Arriving back at the store I noticed the carts had been freshly collected. Well fuck.

Entering the store I approached the gorilla like bag boy and kindly asked if they had found a purse in any of the carts. Without a word, he reached behind the counter and handed my precious second-hand purse to me looking at me like I was batshit insane. No gorilla boy, you have no right to look at me like I'm fucking nutters! You would be chewing off your lip too if you misplaced everything necessary for someone to steal your identity! Or at least empty your bank account. Not to mention, these are very stressful times for me (triple emphasis on very) and all you do is bag people's shit! You didn't even do a good job either because my groceries went all elephant on ice skates mid crazy drive back to the store!

Incompetent fool! Meat boy is so much better than you! Meat boy actually talks! Yeah that's right, don't even bother mumbling a simple "you're welcome" when I thank you and hold my hands out as if I'm in prayer. Well fine, I guess I'll just leave and bask in the relief that I won't be calling all my credit card companies to report my cards as lost. That's pretty much how it went down. He didn't utter a word, he regarded me like some blonde bimbo (maybe he was just a confused little ape) and I returned home following the rules of the road like the good citizen that I am.

Of course then I had to drive and get gas which cost me a lovely $50 I was not willing to part with until next week when I was planning on filling up (well technically I never wanted to part with it but life just sucks sometimes). My life has been so hard lately. Cue end of sarcasm. Yeah that's right I'm in one of those moods which is incredibly dangerous at this time of year. Well anytime of year really, but especially this time of year because everyone is so fucking stressed out they look like they'll take a knife to your throat anytime you make a sarcastic comeback or crack a joke. Lighten up world, bin Laden is dead and it's entirely appropriate to make jokes about him, dead or not! No? Making fun of dead people is unethical? Damn.

beda evaluated

2011-04-30T23:35:00.001-07:00

After my somewhat failed attempt at BEDA, I feel that now I can reflect upon the entire ordeal. I was doing pretty well up until the last week, which I would say was pretty damn good for a first attempt at blogging everyday for a month after a four month hiatus. I have realized one thing though about forced blogging aside from the fact that my grammar just sucks when I don't edit. I realized early on that forced creativity sucks. I have definitely posted things that I put very little effort into and while I've done this in the past, I never felt the pressure to publish anything I didn't want to. I feel like BEDA really encourages shit posts and makes me feel like I'll become some sort of failure if I don't manage to perform. Insert sex joke here.

That aside, I often felt that sort of "I don't know what to blog about" feeling which resulted in really mediocre posts. I have to apologize for those. Of course, I've lost pretty much all my readers since I went on hiatus anyways, but still, I like to post things that are somewhat enjoyable to read. In theory I think BEDA is a great idea, but posting complete shite takes the "great" out of it. I think the issue was definitely the whole quantity over quality thing and for a perfectionist like myself, it really made me cringe at times. So after sorting through my thoughts and this whole experience, I've decided to never try BEDA again because I just produce crap. A lot of crap that just gets overlooked. Instead I'm going to attempt (key word, attempt) to go back to more meaningful posts before the days of my hiatus.

I'm at the pinnacle of my young life... is pinnacle even the right word? Whatever, I'm at my prime, I'm (almost) graduated and I'm about to start my next big adventure. An adventure that will likely take a couple weeks to get the nerve to move out of my parent's house and into the scary, scary real world, but that is bound to give me some great blogging material. What's more exciting than living out of a cardboard box? Okay, I'm joking about that part, I hope, but you catch my drift right? I guess this is me refusing to give up Blogger because I know someday I will be glad to have written this all down. So yeah, insert anticlimactic ending here.

crazy week is over

2011-04-28T20:27:00.000-07:00

Hell week is officially over! Which means it's pretty much smooth sailing until finals. So in celebration of my crazy week, I leave you with an endlessly amusing moment from my anatomy class.

"The speed at which the sperm exits the penis is about enough for a canonblast" - Dr. P
"But not enough to blow off a condom." - Dr. A
"Speak for yourself old man." - Dr. P
(A few seconds later)
"I'm going to regret that at the next staff meeting." - Dr. P

Oh how I love my professors.

so much for monday

2011-04-26T02:16:00.000-07:00

Well fuck. It's 2am and now officially Tuesday. Can I just say that today was hectic and make up for it on like Thursday or something? My excuse: I had a three hour meeting that started at eight that was profound and depressing and involved crying and goodbyes and just yeah. Then I had to study for my anatomy practical which takes place in exactly ten hours not to mention finish up my presentation for Wednesday which is ONLY worth thirty percent of my grade. Did I mention I still have the entire cardiovascular system to relearn and I'm tired and you know what I don't need to explain myself. This week of BEDA is just going to have to become BLODA (Blog Lots of Days in April). I've done pretty good so far, just give me a little slack, I'm dealing with a lot right now academically, emotionally, etc.

octopi hunt

2011-04-24T22:42:00.001-07:00

I just spent 20 minutes hanging up octopi that I named constructed of plastic eggs and pipe cleaners around my dorm for a scavenger hunt I spontaneously created last night at 2am with rhyming clues. Best time spent not doing homework ever.

Picture Sunday will occur tomorrow on the account of me being lazy and not taking any photos today.

proud moment

2011-04-23T22:02:00.000-07:00

I'm about to share something incredibly ironic with you all. So yesterday I posted about how blah I felt concerning graduation and how I didn't really feel proud of the achievement, well that changed rather rapidly. Now pardon me while I sound like an arrogant berk, but I just won the very prestigious Junia McAlister Outstanding Senior Award with one of my very good Chemistry friends and at this very moment in time I can safely say I have never been more proud of myself. The award is worth $1,000, but it's definitely not just about the cash. I also get my name engraved on a plaque to hang in the Chemistry building along with all the other recognized seniors. I can't tell you how good that feels. Not because I'm super proud of the plaque, but it finally feels like I'm going to leave something tangible behind, something that honors my achievements and I know I'm sounding arrogant, but this is a big deal for me. Something my parents can show people and yes that sounds super egotistical, but this award was able to show me that I should be proud of my undergraduate degree. Yes, it sounds materialistic that it took a plaque to get me there, but I'm one of those people who doesn't like to just be in the middle of things. I like the thrill of being on top and being recognized. I'm not only on cloud nine, but I'm waiting for my alarm to go off, that's how surreal this feels. I never ever thought I would win this. I've been to countless banquets for the Chemistry Department and this award never seemed within my reach, not at all. It was given to seniors much smarter and more involved in research than I am, it was given to the elite. Not once did I ever expect to be honored along with them. I could go on and on, but I think I'll just end here and say that whatever you do in life, be a good one because it feels great. Even if it's only for one night.

senior dinners

2011-04-22T22:59:00.000-07:00

Tonight was my hall's senior dinner and while I've been to every senior dinner since I started living here, this was the first time I was the one being recognized. Well me and every other senior that is. In general, it wasn't the most entertaining senior dinner I've ever attended, in fact it feel incredibly anticlimactic. Everyone else seemed to be having fun, but I just sort of felt "blah" the entire time.

I should be proud of myself right? I'm just one of those people who really doesn't look at graduations with the same sort of nostalgia as everyone else. I know, they're great achievements, blah, blah, but are they really? Is graduating from a sub par university in a country that's academically falling behind other countries truly a "life-changing" achievement? It never feels life changing to me, in fact the feeling I get is more of a "Shit, what am I going to do next?" sort of feeling instead of a "I feel so proud of my college degree" feeling. Perhaps the pessimist inside of me just hates everything that graduation is. I hate the fact that now I have to make yet another decision about where to go next, I hate the applications and the reference letters, I hate the five hour ceremonies and the pedestal that graduates are placed on.

I feel just like I did four years ago at the end of high school, in all I find myself saying "That really wasn't very hard, what's the big deal of celebrating something that in general wasn't exactly a challenge?" If I'm going to celebrate something I want it to be something I really worked at, no slaved away at, something that challenged me beyond my own abilities, something that pushed me and made me grow beyond my limit, I want something that's worth celebrating, an achievement that is truly something spectacular. Am I just expecting too much? Or has everyone else just decided to accept too little?

colors

2011-04-21T21:38:00.001-07:00

I just spent 15 minutes taking a color vision test instead of finishing my lab report. Don't tell me that wasn't a productive use of my time. So it turns out I have trouble distinguishing my greens and blues. Just a little bit though since 0 is perfect and I'd consider a 3 pretty darn good. I took a screen shot just in case you didn't believe me. Personally I blame my monitor which doesn't have contrast adjustment so everything sort of blends in. Yes, that's me being a determinist. You do remember that time my blog design was neon though right? Ha! See, proof that my computer has poor resolution/contrast/whatever it is that makes colors bright. Either way, the time I spent on this was definitely more enjoyable than the 15 minutes I could have spent finishing my report. You should take the test HERE and tell me how you did. It's much harder than it seems. Or maybe my eyes just see things really muted...

ice cream and rainbows

2011-04-20T19:42:00.002-07:00

After my Inorganic Practical today, which went surprisingly decent by the way, we made liquid nitrogen ice cream. I know you're jealous. I also know that making ice cream should be a sure sign that a class is fun but I should clarify that the "fun factor" for this lab was never absent. In fact it has been one of the most interesting and fun labs I have ever taken. I've learned though that fun does not equal easy because honestly there is a reason we do a few fun experiments, it's because the rest of the lab is miserable.

Back to the ice cream though and the fact that I am officially done with my chemistry labs. It was delicious. In fact it makes me want to keep a stock of liquid nitrogen in my kitchen. I learned that the average liter goes for about $4... not exactly cheap, but I can't deny that it made my tastebuds incredibly happy. In fact it pretty much made my horrible day of exams not so horrible. It was also the first time I was allowed to eat in lab, which I'd have to say is pretty darn exciting. So aside from that, not much happened today. I still need to write a few papers and prepare a presentation for the lecture portion of said class, but for now I'm going to enjoy my grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.

Also, with the BP oil spill making news again because of the developing health problems and whatnot, I feel the need to share Amy Kuney's "Gasoline Rainbows" with you. An album with the same title was released right after the spill with a whole bunch of artists as a way to raise money to help clean up and this song has remained one of my favorites. The video was also just released today. Enjoy, it's kind of beautiful. And by kind of I mean completely stunning. Amy really should be more well known than she is for her unique voice.

april's a bitch

2011-04-19T21:09:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry that I'm failing at BEDA. I just hate April. Actually I just hate the last two weeks of April. I don't even want to think about next week since it's going to be ten times worse than this week and this week has been pretty awful. It's only Tuesday too. Ugh, I can't believe how much crap I have left to do.

I have my lab practical for my Inorganic lab tomorrow. Today I was told in class that anything we've learnt in lecture is fair game for lab. Fan-bloody-tastic. I love how my professor told us this the day before the test. I have another exam right before that one so that should be just loads of fun since I wasn't anticipating having to study a whole bloody semester's worth of material instead of just a few lab concepts. I do believe that will be the one lab I get a C in. How pathetic is that? My entire undergraduate career I've gotten A's in every single lab and suddenly I'm going to end up with a C because the lab is disorganized and impossibly hard to study for since we're expecting to just know information that isn't taught.

Well I think I'll end my bitching now. In my defense though I was told that by venting about stress you become less stressed so I'm giving that a go. It was that or screaming and I don't think my dorm would be as accepting of that. Well, I'm going to have to cut it short again to get back to studying. Sigh.

stressed, tired, lame post

2011-04-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted and with only 20 minutes left of today, I can't bother to muster up a good post. I have a crapton of papers/exams/projects due in the next couple weeks so don't expect anything magical for this BEDA business. I'm just worn out. They say senior year is easy and I agree that yes, for the most part it isn't too bad, but the last month is enough to make me want to just throw in the towel and say "Meh, who needs an undergraduate degree anyways?" Okay, I won't actually do that, but the thought is definitely there. Or maybe that's just the stress talking... because there is certainly a lot of that right now.

photo sunday: nerd version

2011-04-17T18:15:00.001-07:00

Delicious.

Pipettors are almost as good at spooning as bananas.

Best. Plates. Ever.

thoughts while doing errands

2011-04-16T18:37:00.000-07:00

I saw a man with a spider man lunch box. It was very manly. The tank top with the cut off sleeves just added to the image.

There's something about schizophrenics that just freaks me out. I know I shouldn't be afraid of the mentally ill, especially having worked around them in the past, but there's just something about the way they accost at the produce in the grocery store that gives me the chills.

I didn't buy fish today. This means I didn't see meat boy. I hope he's not too broken up about it. I just didn't feel like fish though after having a bad encounter with some tilapia from China. On a related note, don't ever accept pre-packaged fish from China, there's a reason someone is giving it away for free.

I don't know what it is about tourists that pisses me off so much. We've all been tourists at some point, but I can't help thinking that I've never been that lost or that incompetent. They can't seem to grasp the idea that when traffic has stopped you aren't supposed to block the intersection and their tendency to travel in mobs and ignore the concept of a don't walk sign is decidedly very irritating. Most of all, they can't seem to grasp the concept of parallel parking. If this were Europe they would surely be missing part of their car because leaving half your car in the road because the space is too small is not acceptable.

brief college moments

2011-04-15T20:19:00.000-07:00

Me: Is your mouth still a blowfish?

Fellow Resident 1: My mouth is better, just my left side of my jaw still hurts. 

Me: Sounds like a case of too many blowjobs to me.

----

Fellow Resident 2: Ah crap I just spilled yeast all over the floor!

Me: Ew, that was gross.

Fellow Resident 2: Sorres, didn't mean too...

Me: No not that. I immediately thought of yeast infections. Nasty. (In my mind's defense, I just finished studying the female reproductive system)

Fellow Resident 2: But yeast reminds me of baking bread, doesn't that make you hungry?

Me: When I relate yeast to vaginas? No.

----

Me: You should have given up swearing for lent.

Fellow Resident 3: (without hesitation or thought) But I'm not Jewish!

----

Fellow Resident 4: So **** asked if he could walk me to my door this time. Do you think he wanted to have sex with me?! If he did then I just cock blocked him.

Me: Well at least that lessens your cougar status by a little bit.

Fellow Resident 3: Hey if you ever need party tricks come to my door, I'll hook you up.

to be profound again

2011-04-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

I used to write really profound blog posts. I looked through some of my posts from 2008 and couldn't help but think "wow, this girl had a lot to say." I used to blog because I felt like I had a purpose. I know exactly what was different too, I know exactly the reasons why, yet I can't go back. I wish I could, I wish I could go back and at least ask my past self what I wanted in life, she seemed to know. She was so certain of what she wanted and even if she wasn't certain, she hashed it out on here and didn't give a second thought to who read it. She was brave, thought-provoking, and determined to write about anything. If I go back thought, where's the learning curve? This funk I'm in, it's just part of growing up.

Maybe it's true what they say about the more school you go through, the fewer original thoughts you have. Am I at that stage now? Have my classes stripped me of my free-thinking? I can't really blame it all on school, I suppose it's always been more about me. Last year I was happier, I was more content and I felt more at ease. This year it's like the difference in night in day. There are days when I stay in bed until late afternoon just because I can't be bothered to drag myself up and do something about it.

I've become a disenchanted student, unreliable and sullen. I sit in class and don't really listen, just let the words hit me like waves repelled by rocky cliffs. I avoid people, I avoid interaction, and I often sit against the wall in my room and just stare into nothing. I don't like talking to people because so often I just want them to shut up, to stop bitching about their minuscule problems and to stop whining and to talk about something more worthwhile. Or at least interesting since we all have problems. I'm tired of always being the ear to listen and I'm tired of feeling like I should have to say anything at all. I just want people to grow up, to grow out of being ignorant and ungrateful, and so I don't interact much anymore.

I've become less active in my dorm this semester as well. It no longer feels like a support system, or maybe I just don't need it to be anymore. I've realized that come May I'll be gone and I won't be looking back. The things that I want to say, they just don't matter here and what was so special about this place isn't anymore. Or maybe I just feel like these people don't understand what was special in the first place. It's like a new generation has come in and everything that I cherished has been robbed.

I want the world to see me for what I am and understand my personal battles without having to ask or without me having to tell them, I want someone to just approach me and say "I know exactly what you're feeling" without feeling like it's the right thing to do. Perhaps I want too much, but somewhere in my head I know that there are others out there who are feeling exactly like I am, it's just a matter of finding them and having a mutual understanding without saying a single word.

I've decided upon graduation that I will return to volunteering. I may have to sit in a lab all day surrounded by the smell of ether, but that won't stop me from having hobbies. Plus, it might help me meet people since I don't plan on staying here very long after graduation. So my plan is to return to doing the things I love, sure I don't get credit or money from them, but volunteering is what has saved me and it's time I return to it. Maybe I'll find myself again or have some sort of self enlightenment. I could use that right about now.

help me insanity

2011-04-13T22:42:00.000-07:00

Exhibit A: I had convinced myself three weeks ago that I returned my library books. It turns out this was a lie my subconscious told me. Now the books are not only severely overdue, but my card has been barred because they think I'm a rotten thief. I still have the books.

Exhibit B: Last weekend I went to the grocery store with plans to buy something for dinner. Minutes later I walked out with oatmeal. Remembering I had no more oatmeal left had caused me to completely forget anything else. I had to go back in to at least buy milk so if all else I could eat oatmeal for dinner.

Exhibit C: I spent twenty minutes looking for my lab goggles when they were sitting on top of printer the entire time. I spent a minute looking for my pen that was in my hand. It's like "car key" syndrome times ten.

Exhibit D: I cleaned out the fridge downstairs because it was grossing me out. Forty minutes later while sitting in the basement with a fellow resident I asked "Hey, did you know there were eggs in the downstairs fridge that were from December?" She said I had something called severe brain lag and my brain lagged so much I wasn't able to make a decent comeback until ten minutes later. Kidding. Sort of.

Exhibit E: Yesterday my neighbors across the hall yelled my name through my door and I thought she was yelling at my from outside the window (two stories up mind you) and so I went to look outside the window and when I didn't see anyone I called her name. At that moment she opened my door and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was watching squirrels. Between you and me, there were no squirrels.

Exhibit F: I just spent three and a half minutes flipping through my Organic textbook looking for a table that is actually located in my Inorganic text. Side note, not only does Organic have nothing to do with the type of table I was looking for, but I'm not even taking the class and the books are completely different.

This final month of college is making me senile. More so than I was to start with.

blood and coconuts

2011-04-12T23:23:00.001-07:00

I gouged my finger on a broken pen today while I was reaching into my backpack looking for my calculator. How I manage these things I'll never know. I got a Spongebob band aid from a fellow resident though so things are looking up. I've also decided to tell people that I got into a knife fight. Believable? Not really, but it sure beats the weird looks I'll get when I tell them a pen did all that damage.

To make my day better I made a coconut milkshake, or as I like to call it sin in a glass. Three parts ice cream + 1 part coconut milk + 1/2 part milk + tiny part cinnamon = sheer heaven. Now I don't know if you've ever had a coconut milkshake, but all I'm saying that you're seriously missing out. I used to be allergic to coconuts and for some reason I'm not anymore so I like to indulge every now and then. I'm salivating just by typing this and I already had my fix. Damn you saturated fat, why must you make such delicious things?

In other news, it's technically past midnight, but I'm going to schedule this to post before then. I could have just cheated and not told you... you know what, let's go with that and pretend I didn't say anything. In my defense though, I got sidetracked by a huge presentation I had to prepare and then the whole gushing-blood-wound occurred which required immediate attention. Then I took a shower to clean off the blood and before you know it, bam, it's technically Wednesday. Oh well, guess you'll just have to alert the BEDA authorities. Oh wait, there aren't any. Guess there's nothing you can do about it.

40 days of riding buses

2011-04-11T19:09:00.000-07:00

Have you ever recalled the weirdest bits from your childhood at the strangest time? This morning while I was sitting in anatomy being lectured on the digestive system, I suddenly recalled the days of my youth when I attended boarding school. I don't know why these memories have suddenly decided to resurface, does it mean something or is my subconscious just feeling excessively nostalgic pending my college graduation? I can say though that in the midst of a not-so-stimulating lecture I remembered waiting for the short bus to take me home each day. That's right I rode a short bus for three years.

I recall having to wait in an area on campus known as the Barnyard which was just part of a dirt road that wound through campus. We used to wait on the concrete porch of a shack-like building that was called Connorville which was basically served as the office for whoever happened to be in charge of housing, although I think the fancy name for it was the "Development Office." The bus would leave at 5:30pm, no sooner, no later. If you missed the bus, you were pretty much out of luck and had to stay the night on campus. However in the middle of my anatomy lecture, I fondly recalled the days when the bus would be pulling out of campus and several times someone would see it leaving and chase after it. Not an easy task on a rough dirt road, but I do remember a member on the track team chasing after it for at least half a mile before the driver finally pulled over to let him on. This happened at least once a week to varying degrees.

I then began recalling the days of riding the bus. I realized that I got on that damn bus twice a day for an hour long ride for three hours of my life. I calculated it up and that's roughly 960 hours of my life spent on a bus driving between Prescott and Mayer Arizona. That's about 40 days. I spent over a month of my life commuting to get to school! That astounds me. Perhaps the pure monotony of it all is what caused me to forget the memories until now. Even now and then I remember something from my past and as a way to sort of test myself, I see how much I can remember about that event. Except this wasn't just an event if it spanned over a months worth of time. Here's what I remembered in my lecture though and I thought it was worth sharing.

- I was only late in catching the bus once. That I can remember anyways. It was just one morning out of hundreds of mornings and luckily the bus had one of those cell phones that took up more room than a house phone at the time that we could call and depending how late we were it would stop somewhere and wait for us. I want to say I missed the bus more than just that one time since I think once I had to be driven all the way to school, but I can't remember if that happened to me personally or just someone I knew.

- We used to convince our driver sometimes to stop at Starbucks, Dairy Queen, gas stations, etc on some days either going to or from school. We had several drivers and some weeks we would see multiple people while some weeks it might be the same person every day. There was a woman who was pretty nice about stopping places, but I do recall having a few very unpleasant male drivers. These were the ones who refused to stop when my fellow students were desperately running after the bus.

- One time we stopped at a gas station and a girl on the bus found a bag of fritos in the trash can at the gas station. I think it was one of those bags that popped during transit and had to be thrown away. She ate them. The rest of us were repulsed. Another time we purchased an entire gallon of ice cream. The guys took a few bites and claimed they were full while the girls ended up polishing off the gallon. I couldn't help thinking that it really should have been the other way around.

- My friend and I used to spend our time on the bus writing songs and playing snake on her cell phone. Depending on the day, sometimes there were only a few people on the bus that day. In fact during one ride I was by myself the entire ride. Back to our song writing. My friend and I were the only ones one day and we convinced ourselves our driver was drunk and wrote an entire song about it. It was dreadful, but it made the hour go by incredibly quickly.

- Speaking of the ride, I don't think I can fully express how incredibly boring it gets traveling the same hour long route five days a week. We amused ourselves by telling inappropriate jokes or sleeping or doing homework. I don't know how I tolerated those days.

- Remembering all these crazy bus experiences has caused me to recall other boarding school memories. It's like this whole part of my brain has been cracked wide open for my viewing pleasure. More to come another day, I guess I've found an excellent theme for BEDA.

photo sunday

2011-04-10T23:43:00.001-07:00

I'm making photo Sunday a thing. Mostly because I have a half an hour before this day is officially over and no time to muster up a decent post. Plus photos are fun, everyone loves photos. I could use a day free from blogging too, I'm exhausted.

I'm lucky enough to have a spectacular view outside of my dorm room. No matter what the weather decides to do. There's just something about park benches that makes me feel nostalgic.


A few months ago I received an anonymous gnome in my PO box. I have no idea where he came from, who put him there, or why he was there. I have noticed that he ends up in the weirdest of places though.

Signs like this always make me wonder whose brilliant idea it was to try ice skating on a golf course pond before this sign was put into place.

meat boy

2011-04-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

There's this boy who works behind the counter at the meat counter at one of my town's grocery stores and I've decided we were meant to be together. I know what you're thinking, how can I be so sure I've met my soulmate? Well for one, he's not even that attractive. Sure, he's kind of cute, but if you saw him walking down the street you probably wouldn't look twice. Two, he works behind the meat counter for God's sake, it's not like I'm after him for his money. Three, he is super sweet. Okay, so maybe it's part of his job to ask me how I am and make small talk while he's weighing out my fish, but surely he wouldn't put this much effort into right? I mean he actually gets pretty into the conversation to the point where I'm still standing there talking even after he's handed over my order. I've also encountered meat boy three weeks in a row, I'm telling you, it's like he's expecting me. Or maybe it's just because I go grocery shopping the same day and the same time every week and maybe that's just when his shift happens to be. You know what, no, it must be fate. So yes, I will continue to visit the grocery store at that time and I will make a point to buy fish even if it's not on sale because yes, I am going to continue harboring a crush on meat boy in the hopes that he will someday ask me out and we will be in love forever and ever. I know what you're thinking and I just have two words for you. Shut up. When we get married I can't wait to say I told you so.

hills of strawberry

2011-04-08T19:33:00.001-07:00

So I've spent most of my day drawing male and female reproductive parts. Yay for anatomy! Okay so funny story. Well, actually it's not a story it's more of a single event, but you get my drift. I was in lab the other day, the other being defined here as Tuesday, and we started the female reproductive system. Just in case you didn't guess by my first sentence up there. So my TA pulls up her powerpoint and flips to the first slide which was a (very detailed) diagram of a vagina and the kid across from me (yes kid, not man, kid) slaps his hand over his eyes and says "Ah, my innocence!" I'm not sure if he was joking. In fact I'm still trying to figure that out since all lab period he would avoid looking at any of the models. Yet he also laughed immaturely when we began talking about menstruation. I'm not quite sure what he expected out of an anatomy lab. I can't wait until we cover the penis and testes next week. I am looking forward to his reaction. Not to mention I plan to do everything in my power to make him feel uncomfortable. Because that's how nice of a person I am. Hey if he wants to enter the medical field he better get used to naked body parts. That's all I'm saying.

In other news, I made up for my rejection yesterday by applying to four new jobs today. I think that brings my total number of applications up to twenty. Or more. Who knows anymore since I've lost count. I'm also currently drinking cheap pseudo-wine and eating dark chocolate. Hey my period is in three weeks, give me a break. Totally not a reasonable excuse, but if I'm going to finish my lab report I'm going to need some assistance. Last time I wrote my report with a few glasses of Strawberry Hill in me and it was probably one of the best reports I've written. Who said alcohol isn't a good study aid? I also cut the very tip of my finger on a post-it note today and it hurts like a bitch. I have no idea how I managed that, but that post-it note had it out for me! Okay well I'm going to stop procrastinating now and get back to my uterus. My drawing of a uterus that is.

congrats, you're rejected

2011-04-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep I thought of a really good topic to blog about. Of course now that it is time to blog, I seem to have forgotten what I was going to type. I'm also feeling a little down since one of the jobs I applied for, the one that I really wanted and was desperate to get, doesn't want me. Nothing like a nice generic rejection letter on a Thursday evening to get your spirits up. I guess it's time to pull out my good friend Kettle One and toast to not getting what you want in life.

I know I need to just suck it up and keep applying and looking, but after applying to over a dozen jobs it starts to get a little old. Did I mention depressing? Oh well, all I can do is just try and brush it off and move forward. Wherever the hell forward is. Most of all though I'm beginning to second guess myself. Should I be looking in all fifty states instead of just two for a job? Should I have applied to graduate school instead? Or Pharmacy school? Should I start studying to take the exams to get into said schools? I just don't want to continue with school, I need a break. Yet it seems to be the only real option as far as getting hired. I hate you life, I hate you economy, I hate you college career that was supposed to get me hired.

Well I'm being a downer so I'm going to go eat some salmon, have a glass (or a couple) of wine and get over myself. Or at least try.

paper labs

2011-04-06T19:04:00.000-07:00

Today was exhausting. I had a paper lab today which is just a nice way of saying "it's time to make Chelsea's head explode today during lab." I always hate them because they always make me feel incredibly stupid. Our first paper lab I almost walked out on. It was that frustrating. In fact after that lab I went back to my dorm and cried for several minutes because I was so frustrated. A paper lab pretty much consists of several pages of pretty difficult chemistry problems. It would be too confusing to explain them in detail, but in short, you aren't allowed to move on to the next problem unless you get the previous one correct. It's kind of like getting rejected multiple times in a row.

Anyways, today the lab wasn't too dreadful. Half of it was spent cutting out paper to make three dimensional models which is always fun. The rest was spent trying to remember enough geometry to calculate how many atoms could fit in these shapes. A part of me enjoyed the whole puzzle aspect to it, but a part of me also really hates simple math since that's when I seem to make the most mistakes. Especially after three hours. It is my second to last lab for that class though, then I just have to miraculously pass the practical and I won't ever have to take another undergraduate chemistry lab course ever again. I'll be more excited when I won't ever have to take another undergraduate any kind of course ever again, but for now I'll count my blessings and just be happy my labs are almost done.

So yeah, that was pretty much my whole day. Now I have to finish my lab report tonight and write another one tomorrow night. Did I mention how happy I'll be when I finish my labs? Guess I should get cracking on those since I don't particularly want to be up until 2am tonight. Goodbye for now, at least until tomorrow when I will be forced to drone about my daily happenings yet again!

a proton's life

2011-04-05T18:31:00.003-07:00

Well crap, it's time to blog again. One good thing about this whole BEDA thing, it appears to be making my days go by much faster since I have "assigned" myself some personal homework in the form of blogging. I did get my Inorganic midterm back today. It only took two weeks. In case I didn't make it clear yesterday, this is the four hundred level class I was moaning about.

Oddly enough, my professor wrote "Good Job" on my exam. Twice. Trust me, if you met this woman you would understand just how big of a deal this is since I rarely receive praise in that class. To paint a picture, her height makes her Amazonian worthy and just the clicking of her heels as she approaches the classroom every morning makes the entire class cringe. I feel the need to mention she also plays rugby, goes to motorcycle shows, wears shirts with feminist phrases, and has a blonde life partner.

Anyways, back to my exam. I didn't get an A, but I definitely did better than the average. I was a little amazed at this considering I gave up half way through and spent most of the time writing my life's story as a proton as some sort of personal tragedy filled with French phrases. My professor seemed to appreciate my tale though and rewarded me full points. And before you get all confused, yes one of the questions on the exam was indeed to follow the life of a proton since the Big Bang. So no, I didn't just decide to make that shit up in the middle of an exam because I felt like putting myself in the middle of an atom's nucleus. Ha get it, nucleus? Because they don't have shoes. I'll stop now, that was utterly dreadful. I don't know what's wrong with me.

I did realize one thing though from this class, it seems to be the only class I can literally make fun of to my professor's face and still earn the points. I'm not joking, my last lab report I drew a dinosaur chasing a stick figure because I couldn't figure out the answer. The one before that, I drew a dancing giraffe with a top hat because I had half a blank page that looked lonely. I can do no wrong since every time I do something completely ridiculous I receive some sort of praise in the form of "awesome" or "well done" or "good job." Sure, I may not get all the points, but hell I get enough to be satisfied. I assume she enjoys my antics since I appear to be the only one in the class with an ounce of humor. Sure, I may not be getting the highest grade and could probably do better if I applied myself, but at least I'm having some sort of fun with the material which is quite the accomplishment since I hate it. Now I just have to survive my presentation which is worth a wonderful 30% of my grade. Should be interesting since half of what I'm talking about I don't fully understand. Oh well, as I wrote on my exam, c'est la vie.

life is sleep

2011-04-04T18:33:00.001-07:00

Only four days into BEDA and I'm out of things to say and too exhausted to muster up a decent post. I'm not quitting though, I will be blogging everyday damnit even if it turns into awful posts like this one is bound to become.

Today I had one class and after a weekend of doing nothing I yet again accomplished absolutely nothing today. Sure I have papers to write and quizzes to study for, but knowing this has yet to kick my brain into gear. Perhaps it's because I know I still have the time and I know I can get away with it. Did I mention just how unmotivated I am this semester? It's hard to be motivated though when my high GPA doesn't seem to count for much anymore.

What's the point of a good GPA if it won't get me hired? Not to mention I'm doing the slacker senior thing and taking two sophomore level classes with only one upper division one so it's not like I'm struggling. Only the four hundred level one is sort of kicking my ass and it's one I don't particularly enjoy nor is it something I ever plan to pursue in the future so I'm not to concerned about doing well in it. A fact that baffles me since it's my last chemistry class and typically I excel in those, but I find myself completely nonchalant about point group theory and silly calculations and visualizations that to be honest I will never use again. Behold, even the most motivated of students fall flat during their final six weeks of college. Burnt out doesn't even begin to describe the feeling.

So what have I been doing instead of study? Sleeping mostly. Those four hour naps sure are lovely. I think next I'll use my time to once again organize and clean my room. Not that it needs it since I spent most of yesterday sorting through papers and whatnot, but it sure beats studying for my anatomy quiz on the digestive system. A system that couldn't sound elegant if it tried. When we learned the respiratory system I could see a certain elegance in how it worked and in the laws that governed it. I can't say much for digestion, even the terms lack the same finesse and romanticism that respiration has to offer. Bolus and chyme - not exactly words of romance.

Well must get cracking, I really do have pointless things to do with my time. Not to mention I will have to study. Eventually.

salty prank

2011-04-03T19:16:00.000-07:00

Seeing as April Fools was recent, I feel the need to share a little pranking anecdote from my younger days. When I was in middle school I was attending a boarding school and so we actually had a dining hall. I'm not talking some sterile looking cafeteria either, I'm talking heavy wooden tables and chairs with studded detailing under dark lighting with flags hanging from the ceiling and a view of cows and horses out the back door. Boarding school was such an enriching experience and by "enriching" I mean that it has been able to provide me with stories to tell about experiences I probably couldn't forget even if I wanted to.

I was part of a small group of fellow eighth graders who used to sit together at lunch, in fact there were only five of us. Being the immature eighth graders we were, hell I'm still immature in this respect, we loved playing harmless pranks on one another. Everyday at lunch we would enter the cafeteria, get our drinks and put them at our table to sort of reserve it even though getting the table you wanted wasn't exactly a competition, and then we would go get food.

My fellow group members decided one day while I was getting my food that it would be a good prank to add salt to my cranberry juice and slowly increase the amount of salt each day by just a little bit to see if I noticed. I have no idea when then began doing this, but I do know it took me a couple weeks to even notice since they began in such small amounts. I do remember the day when I did notice though, I had taken a large gulp and could definitely detect the added salt. I'm not sure if you've ever mixed salt with cranberries, or salt with any fruit for that matter, but it's pretty disgusting. Not too much different from drinking orange juice after you brush your teeth in levels of disgusting.

Instead of accusing anyone of contaminating my juice, I do recall asking them if they had noticed the juice getting saltier and saltier and whether I should ask the dining staff what was going on. My friends convinced me that they too had noticed the change and I should do exactly that. I was a pretty bold eighth grader, in fact I was at that age where my honestly got me in trouble often since I wasn't afraid to voice my opinions, even if they were poorly thought out or nonsensical. So I approached the head of the dining staff, Tony, and explained that there had to be something wrong with the cranberry juice since it was getting really salty.

I spent several minutes trying to convince him that their cranberry juice had gone bad or was a messed up batch and after a quick taste test he not only proved me wrong, but I felt incredibly stupid. Tony was good about it though since he had a really good sense of humor and just laughed it off. When I returned to my table my lunch mates were in hysterics and it was then that I realized that this was just one massive and very well thought out prank. I'm talking The Office worthy. It was after that experience that I gained the nickname "Salty," however, I didn't mind so much since this nickname wasn't nearly as embarrassing as my friend who was fortunate enough to be called "Butter sticks" for the rest of her middle school years. Oh childhood innocence, how I miss you.

homeless soapbox time

2011-04-02T15:57:00.001-07:00

This morning I had to wake up at five to volunteer. I don't even remember the last time I woke up this early on Saturday. In fact it was very reminiscent of the days when I had to wake up early to catch a bus or a plane to go somewhere. Almost deja vu like except this time I wasn't going anywhere exciting.

Having gone to bed at two-thirty, I rolled out of bed quite literally and filled my kettle with water to make coffee before even thinking about turning off my alarm. I joined the two other girls from the dorm crazy enough to volunteer this early on a Saturday and together we made our way across town to the women's shelter to cook them breakfast. Upon arrival we discovered that they didn't actually eat breakfast until eight and the information we had received notifying us to arrive at six was in fact incorrect. At that point I was still too tired to care that we had arrived at least half an hour earlier than necessary.

Now I won't bore you with the details of preparing breakfast since I'm sure you can conjure in your mind the task of cooking three packages of bacon and twenty-four eggs, but I will say there's something very soothing about mindlessly frying bacon. And I don't even like bacon. We were given chief's cut and sent to the front of the line when it came time to serve and I couldn't help feeling immensely guilty for eating food meant for women and children who don't have food or a place to call their own. Especially since in a few hours I would return to my dorm room where the shelves of my fridge are hardly ever bare and the days I go hungry are due to my own laziness and not because of any lack of resources.

This very same guilty feeling caused me to only take a meager scoop of eggs, a few strawberries, and a small danish. As fulfilling as I find the act of volunteering, I find it offers me something more than just good karma. In a way I use it as a reality check. It really does put things into perspective, more so than just reading about the problem because for a couple hours I'm part of it. It's so easy for us to see the devastation in Japan and feel compassion for those who have lost everything they own and those they love, but what about the small facets of devastating circumstances that plague our own country. It's so easy to get wrapped up in helping other countries by donating money, but what do we really accomplish with that? I'm not saying donating money to relief efforts is bad, but I would be lying if I said it bothers me how little we care for our very own citizens.

The only explanation I've come up with is that our decisions in who to help is swayed by stereotypes. The stereotypical homeless person is lazy, drunk, or stupid. Having volunteered for more than four years at multiple shelters, I can say that the stereotype couldn't be more wrong. Not everyone in a shelter is lazy, not everyone in a shelter is a drunk, and not everyone in a shelter is dumb. In fact most of them are people who were given a rotten hand of cards and forced to accept a life without a home. Those who are lazy, stupid, and drunk are not the ones at shelters and are instead the ones that linger outside gas stations saving enough pennies for their next booze fix. I met a man in a shelter once who told me that he used to have a good paying job in the Midwest. Then he got laid off. Then his wife got cancer. Then he lost his house because the bills were piling up. When his wife died he had nothing. Does that sound like someone who became homeless because of poor life decisions?

At the particular shelter I volunteered at this morning there are women and children who have been abused and neglected, strong women who were forced into situations that were beyond their control. Children dressed in Thomas the train PJs who shouldn't be living out their childhood in a shelter. So yes, I have a problem when millions of dollars of aid money is willingly donated to a country suffering a natural disaster but people aren't willing to donate a few cans a food a month to a shelter or food bank. Or even volunteer a few hours of their time helping out a little. It bothers me when people on campus urge me or hassle me to donate money to Japan but don't think helping out at a shelter is important or a worthy cause. So donate your money, that's fine, but don't pretend that our homeless population doesn't matter and doesn't need support, because it does.

no april fools, just beda

2011-04-01T17:48:00.000-07:00

So it's been a while yeah? A while being defined here as three months plus. As much as it appears that I've given up blogging, the fact of the matter is that I haven't, obviously since I'm blogging now, I just needed a break. A break from what I couldn't say since I don't really know, but going on a short blogger hiatus felt needed. So what made me decide to come back? It's BEDA or Blog Every Day in April and in the past I always forget when the first of April comes around to partake in this little challenge and for the first time I actually remembered. Funny how that works seeing as the one time I remember I'm not even blogging actively anymore.

So what's been going on with me? Well, a lot of school basically. A lot of procrastinating, even more senioritis which has led to more procrastinating, and on top of that, a lot of job hunting, job applying, and resume building. I've realized that it is incredibly stressful to be job hunting while still attending classes because the free time I do have I use on trying to make myself sound like a worthy candidate for jobs I either A-have no chance in hell of getting B-definitely do not want or C-really want but fear there will be more experienced applicants other than myself. I also find the current economy incredibly annoying. I know it's bouncing back or whatever, but things are still a little scarce and poorly paid. What's even more frustrating that even college graduates need 3+ years of experience for an entry level job. However, to get that experience you have to get a job. See the paradox?

Despite the sometimes depressing searches, I am actually excited at some of the jobs I've been applying to. This of course means that I will be very disappointed if I don't get an interview at the very minimum, but I'm trying to curb back my expectations as a sort of self-survival tactic. Despite this, I am still very excited and will just have to be patient. Of course all this waiting is just making my weeks drag on, as if senior year isn't slow enough. So that's what's new in Chelsealand. It's not exactly enthralling, but that's just how life is sometimes.

So Happy April Fools everyone, I'll be back tomorrow with some anecdotes that have resurfaced in my mind. In the meantime, enjoy all the internet April Fool shenanigans going on and don't forget to check out Google Motion to enhance your email experience.

continued awkwardness

2010-12-11T23:45:00.004-07:00

There seems to be this game going around campus and I’m pretty sure everybody is playing and it’s called “Let’s find the weirdest crap to do around Chelsea.”

So on Friday I’m sitting in my anatomy class trying to listen to my professor talk about explosive diarrhea and I’m trying to keep unsanitary images out of my mind when I hear someone talking behind me. I just assume they’re trying to avoid unpleasant imagery as well and are talking to another classmate, but when I glance around, I notice that they’re on their phone. In class. I really don’t understand those people, it’s like they think they have a force field around them thinking that the professors can’t see what they’re doing or hear what they’re saying. Yeah, I can not only see you, I can hear you. Every. Single. Word.

So I turn around in a huff, waiting it out hoping she’ll stop talking at some point when she catches my scowl. Then all of a sudden, do you know what I hear? “Oh baby, you know what I’d like to do to you. Oh yes, right there, that’s how I like it.” Talking dirty? On the phone? In class? Really?! I didn’t even point out that it was 8:30am. You really couldn’t wait until class was over to get your mental rocks off? You know get your mind going? Set your fantasies free?

I looked around and there were other classmates that were just as uncomfortable as I was, but of course my professor was so engrossed in his explosive diarrhea story that he didn’t hear any of the going-ons. You know it’s bad when you consider explosive diarrhea a ‘comfortable’ topic. I was really tempted to raise my hand and be like, “Yeah, sir, hi. There’s someone having phone sex behind me,” but for reasons I can’t explain I just sat there and waited it out.

Dear world, you’ve given me a human that grunts as a form of communication, free feminine hygiene products, and now acts that should be unspeakable in public. Perhaps this is just punishment for not blogging for so long. It's like the world is trying to say "Hey, you can't use the excuse of not having something interesting to say anymore!" Here you go world, what you've been asking for all along.

Last Google Search: Pandora Classical Station

shuddering moments

2010-10-26T17:05:00.001-07:00

Last night I went to an anatomy practice test session and my personal bubble was ruthlessly popped by a creature that I'm not even sure could meet the qualifications for a human being. Now there is a reason I arrive ten minutes early to these things, I am able to guarantee myself a seat because there is nothing worse than being forced to sit on the dirty carpet during a practice exam. Ugh, germs. However, when one arrives early they often sit in an area of low population density i.e. lots of empty desks.

Now the huge downside about these sessions is that anyone can sit next to you. Normally I'm lucky, I see someone from lab or from class I recognize and call them over. Well last night my luck was definitely not quite there. I took a seat in the front row under the assumption that only nerds like me sit in the front row. Well with only a few minutes left until the exams were going to be passed out a curly-haired, lumbering, grunting peculiar creature that smelt of old socks and bad breath plopped his large ape ass into the seat next to me. Shudder count: 1.

He then proceeded to stick his abnormally large elbows onto MY desk intruding upon not only my workspace but my personal space, my bubble was in jeopardy! So I did the polite thing and asked him if he could please refrain from sticking his elbows onto my desk and knocking me in the shoulder. His response was more animalistic than human, it was an odd grunting that I can only associate with some sort of primate, perhaps a gorilla. This creature looked at me like I was nuts, like it was perfectly acceptable in a social situation to constantly invade one's bubble, no social awareness I tell you.

So I spent the next hour and half shuddering from contact with this primitive creature. I ended up with half my ass off my seat just trying to shy away from any unnecessary contact. However, every time I shifted further away, he seemed to interpret that as a "Hey, come on closer into my domain, I don't mind" and by the end of the hour half my ass was off the chair and my back completely turned away. Shudder count: 12. I also noticed that this thing had a tendency to try and read my answers. Okay, this is a practice test, I don't think his tiny brain understood the concept. I mean it's not like anyone is being graded. Not to mention, he's not even in my class which means the questions for my professor only made up about half the questions on the test.

While going over the test I discovered that he was definitely a grunter. An incorrect response on his part resulted in "grunt, hmfph, mmfgth, grunt." I'm dead serious, I have never experienced such a lack of comprehension between my own species. I think I had more success understanding my dog. Of course each grunt was accompanied by a wave of bad breath sent in my direction. Shudder count: 18. Needless to say when the last answer was given I immediately activated the sympathetic response of my autonomic nervous system (fight or flight) and got the hell out of there. In fact I was the first out the door. I immediately returned to my dorm where I took a shower to try and cleanse myself of the experience. I think next time I will stick a book on the desk next to me to avoid this occurrence from happening ever again. I don't think my gag reflex could take it.

Last Google Search: leg and foot muscles

nonchalance is bliss

2010-10-24T21:29:00.001-07:00

It's about that time when everyone in my year is taking those horrifying standardized exams and what am I doing? Sitting back and watching with one of those "meh, whatever" sort of faces that indicate complete nonchalance. I know, I know, I should be taking the GREs with every other college senior on the planet, but why take a test when I'm not even sure it will be needed for my future endeavors. So why bother? I might as well see how the rest of the year pans out before subjecting myself to such torture and what will no doubt lead to a huge blow to my ego anyways. Which right now is a really fragile thing so I'd rather err on the side of caution these days than stick myself in a cold room with a bunch of paranoid college students with unrealistic dreams.

Turning in my graduation papers is about as much thought I want to put into life after college right now. Although I definitely did a happy dance after they received their final signature for approval. I did learn two very important lessons when it comes to my happy dance 1) don't do it without stretching beforehand and 2) you don't do in the hallway outside the Chemistry office because the underclass won't understand. Like they understand anything past stoichiometry these days anyways.

Oh also, I dropped my animal behavior class today. Without even taking the midterm which I had planned to use as a sort of "should I drop or not" guideline. But you know what I figured? I hate this class, it's stressing me out when it should be fun, and my mommy told me to. No really, I called her talking about how frustrating the class was and for once in my life she actually told me to drop something. No "shouldn't you try harder" or "give it another shot" no, it was a simple "just drop it and let it go." Yes, my mom is still teaching me important life lessons. So my level of stress has been reduced significantly.

I'm also possibly hosting a German girl for a night this week. I'm excited. One, I fucking love Germans and if I could go back to Germany I would in a second. Two, we might go to dime beers which would be epic since I haven't hit the town since the beginning of the semester when I actually had time for a life. So yes, even if this will be my first potential good week of the semester, it might be just enough to get me to Winter Break.

monthly updates? shameful

2010-10-17T12:44:00.003-07:00

I just got a comment on my blog and it reminded me that I still own this place. My bad.

So I didn't win the scholarship. It would be an understatement to say I was disappointed. I mean I was in first place since week two and I knew that even then it was a guarantee, but it still sucks. I guess that's the story of my life though. I didn't go out of state for college because the financial aid office at EWU fucked up. In grade school I didn't win the raffle for the birdhouse even though I bought fifty tickets and the kid who won bought one. When names were pulled out of a hat for lab groups I got stuck with a bunch of slackers who can't even do simple dilution calculations. What part of MV=MV is so hard to comprehend??

So yeah, I've concluded that I'm just not lucky. I don't win scholarship contests, it's just not something that happens to me. I guess the red vines I won at the movies several years ago was the high point of my life when it comes to these sorts of things. If I were wiser I might have expected the loss, even prepared for it, but my hopes were flying high. The 20K was already spent on my first semester of Pharmacy school. Except I didn't win it. So much for dreaming big. Or small really since 20K isn't exactly a huge quantity of money. So yeah, that sucks. I'm coming to terms with it though. I have to and I need to stop resenting the girl who won since I realize that I can't be angry at someone luckier than I am.

So aside from that I've been a pretty shitty blogger. I've been busy, but more than that I just don't have anything to say. All there is for me is school, work, hall council, and habitat. That's my life right there. I'm loving anatomy and physiology which is surprising since I was really worried about it kicking my ass. It's fascinating though and much easier than I expected. My animal behavior class is frustrating. We spent almost two weeks discussing why fireflies had glowing butts, my professor is a creeper who has relationships with TAs and we're supposed to have a midterm in two weeks, but we haven't even gotten through three chapters when the midterm covers five. I don't know why I'm bothering with that class, it's not like I need it for anything. So much for having a "fun class" eh?

Ah well. So what's good in my life right now? I feel like I should come up with something positive at the end of each blog since I used to do that back in the days when I was a decent blogger. Well I went to the optometrist Friday and for the first time in my vision impaired life my prescription didn't change. I seriously had to have the guy tell me three times before I believed him. This is the guy who tells me yearly how blind I'm getting. At least now he just thinks I'm deaf. But he's hot so as long as he talks to me who the fuck cares? That was almost quirky funny, maybe there's hope for me yet. The old me is in here somewhere.

Last Google Search: articulations outline

life-less

2010-09-19T20:40:00.000-07:00

The only reason I'm really blogging is to make it so my first post no longer contains the word 'uterus' in the title. In fact I've become a rather craptific blogger. Yes, craptific is now a word. No I'm not an English major and no I don't care so I can get away with making up words and butchering my own language.

Society is pissing me off once again, but there's not much I can do about it. People who walk up the stairs loudly or have hallway parties at 1am also piss me off. I've corrected my sleep schedule to that of a 90 year old woman a.k.a I'm in bed by 9:30 and I wake up at 6:30. It's like clockwork, even on weekends. So when there are loud people at 1am I am not happy.

School is kicking my ass but at the same time I'm more disciplined then ever before. Mostly because I want to just be done and get away from this place. I need a change. I've realized that since I've reached the ripe old age of ten that this has been the longest I've stayed in one place. It's driving me insane. I guess it's because I've discovered I have nothing keeping me here but school. So I'm ready to get out. I guess that's made me one of the most motivated seniors of all time since I pretty much study from waking up to going to bed on some days without a care for my surroundings. Or maybe it's my excuse to tell the hallway talkers to keep quiet.

I think my brain is trying to kill me though since I've been suffering from headaches for a while now. It's making sleep more desirable than living. I'm probably one of those people who just sleeps through life. Sorry life, but you've just been completely uninspiring and drab right now. So I'd rather sleep.

On another note, I'm still doing my blog contest thing so at least I can blame my lack of posts on that if nothing else. Until the next time I feel like gracing you with my stupid ramblings, hope your life has been more exciting than mine. Not hard to beat right now let me tell you, I'm filled with ennui just typing this.

my uterus is trying to kill me

2010-09-03T20:13:00.003-07:00

Holy mother of all that is completely fucked, I feel like I am dying.

Dear women of the world, if you get horribly painful cramps, as in no-I-seriously-don't-even-want-to-get-up-to-go-pee-because-I-feel-like-I'm-going-to-die-if-I-do-cramps, please tell me your secrets to get rid of them because this Pamprin just ain't doing shit. In fact the tea and the weird positions I'm lying in are doing more, but shit, I can't stay bed ridden all day.

Honestly is it just me or have you also discovered that these pain killer formulated especially for menstruating woman are useless? PS, I've tried Midol, it's about as effective as water. Now I'm a sufferer of cramps/ovarian cysts during ovulation and severe shoot me in the side cramps during this circle of life shit and I can say one thing, I am fed up with having to deal with this not just once a month, but twice. I don't want kids, can't they just remove my uterus and call me menopausal at twenty-one? Yeah, okay maybe this isn't the wisest of ideas... but I'm definitely considering drastic measures. Oh my god, Pamprin is causing me to make life altering decisions. That was NOT on the box.

I swear, I think there's something abnormally wrong with me and I think WebMD agrees with me. Yes, I may be one of those freaks who things she has every disease and ailment that place suggests, but this is legit, like seriously I-bet-giving-birth-hurts-less-pain. Blame the PMS for my pessimism, I do. I must go see a gyno ASAP, I cannot live like this. I would rather be hunted and shot than have to endure another month of popping enough pain killers to cure an elephant of a migraine only to still suffer.

By the way, I am not high, I'm just dying. So you can blame this post on the fact that this may be the last time I ever write here. You would be panicking and ranting too. Hey, I can't help it that I'm an odynophobe.

By the way there's no new banner for this month because, well I make the rules so deal with it. If you read this and you have a Y chromosome, I apologize, but have some sympathy here for my rebelling uterus.

perspecitves of a bitter senior

2010-08-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

- Freshmen are way too overenthusiastic about everything. It's sickening. They think going to class is some sort of privilige or they should earn a fucking gold star everytime they walk through the door on time. Seriously, give a month and you'll be just like the rest of us who literally have to drag ourselves out of bed hooked up to a caffeine drip.

- I've heard more sirens in the past day than I probably did all of last semester. Did we get the raging party animals this year or something? I swear they need to make their admission requirements stricker, this is a sign.

- Another sign is when you have to share a four by four by six mailbox with four other students, can you say overpopulated?

- I heard a girl (freshman of course) talk about how glad she was when she found out that there were manly men here instead of just ourdoor loving nerds. Okay, two flaws in that statement. One, they are not men yet, but mere boys who like to fist bump and grunt. Two, nerds don't like sunlight, our skin is too sensitive to its deadly UV rays. Because we know what UV rays are and the chemical reactions that take place under your skin when they attack.

- I've receieved more emails from my instrumental professor than my mother. He's a new professor and he could give the freshman a run for their money with all this enthusiasm. I don't even start his class until tomorrow! Seriously dude, I have better things to do than read your emails, can't it just wait until class when you will no doubt repeat it all anyway?

-My "fun" class is animal behavior and the professor reminds me of some sort of animal. Maybe a howler monkey, his voice is certainly within that vocal range. I've also decided that anytime you leave me with the NAU catalog and ask me to pick a fun class, I go with a class that requires a lot of work. Remember when I took that graduate level toxicology class last semester and got a fucking B? Yeah, that went really well.

- Oh I'm also taking anatomy and physiology for shits and giggles. I should just shoot myself next time.

- As you can probably tell, this has not been the best of Mondays.

tb tribulations

2010-08-20T17:13:00.002-07:00

I feel kind of bad that this place has been a dead zone recently. Blame the fact that I've been cheating on you with a blog contest. Although I did say a few months back when I was going through a rough patch that I couldn't guarantee anything anymore on here. It's kind of ironic though because August is sometimes the most happening month for bloggers because of BEDA (Blog Everyday August), but this has probably been the least I've blogged since I started this back in 2007. So what have I been up to all month?

I've been trying to convince the hospital that I don't have tuberculous, that's one thing. Yes, let's discuss that for a while. So way back in May I started going through the process of becoming a hospital volunteer which involved countless things for me to sign, tests to take, manuals to read, etc, etc. One of the mandatory steps was getting checked for TB. So I went in and got a skin test, it was negative, sounds good right? Except they make you get two skin tests a month apart.

So I got a second skin test a few weeks back. It turned pretty red, it was kind of itchy, and it was slightly raised. Uh oh. The woman who read the test was just filling in for someone and she wasn't quite sure how to read it other than measuring how large the red spot was. Well she measured and decided I should get a chest x-ray to be safe and make sure I didn't have active TB. I knew I didn't have active TB, I had none of the symptoms not to mention where on Earth would I even get it in the span of a month? I got the stupid thing anyways, surprise it was negative. I also learned that while my appendix may be abnormally large (see blog post called a watercolor of irises where I talk about that whole mess of an ordeal), at least my heart and such are normal sized. Anyways, so I figured I was in the clear right? I mean I got a chest x-ray for goodness sake.

Apparently not. Last week I got a call from the person who should have read my second test in the first place saying that it's possible I just had a reaction to the preservatives in the test since they had used a different serum that time around and she said I should come in for, get this, a third TB test containing a totally different serum. You have got to be kidding me right? So today I went in for my third TB test in under three months, this is just getting to be a bit much. I guess this time if my skin really flares up I have latent TB which means I can't spread it and if it doesn't I never had TB to begin with. Oh also, I should mention that it's possible my second test wasn't even read correctly. I just love hospitals sometimes. I mean if they can't even read a skin test right how confident are you that they will read a mammogram or CT scan correctly? On Monday I go back to see what they say, what do you want to bet my skin test will be negative and my last six trips to the hospital will have been for nothing?

Update (8/24/2010): Oh what's that? After three skin tests and a chest x-ray I don't have TB? So I can go now? You aren't going to stab me with anymore needles? In other news, hospital are freaking ridiculous.

i never ask for anything...

2010-08-13T11:23:00.001-07:00

I know this is blatant self-promotion, but I really could use your help. By you I mean whoever you are, whether you come here often or just this once. I know I'm as good as a stranger, but let's show some random acts of kindness. All I'm asking for is a little love, and by love I mean visiting and or commenting here.

What is here exactly? It's a blogging contest I've entered and if I make it into the top 10 by October 1st I am officially entered in a drawing for a $20K scholarship. I don't ask for pity often, but I feel like I should share a story with you all. My senior year of high school I wanted to get out of Arizona more than anything for college and after falling in love with Eastern Washington University and their campus, my dreams of going out of state were snatched from me when they made the mistake of giving me in-state scholarships, despite me being from out of state. It crushed me, especially since I had already been granted the Western Undergraduate Exchange (WUE) rates and still couldn't afford it.

I wanted to graduate with a Bachelor's debt free and I didn't want my parents taking out a loan on my account, so I stayed here. I don't want that to happen again. I have wanted to live in Oregon since high school, that's my dream and right now it's not happening. I'm seriously considering entering Pharmacy or become a Technician, both of which require expensive schools or training programs. My mother is trying to persuade me into entering the University of Arizona Pharmacy School. I CANNOT let that happen. I don't know if you've ever been to Tucson, but let me just say that I would not be able to survive if I had to live there. I can't deal with the people there, but more importantly, I cannot live in a place that has only one season - hot.

Here's where that 20K scholarship comes in. I know that if I do make it into the top 10 that my chances are only 1 in 10 of winning it since it's then up to a drawing to decide, but I need some hope right now and even though I never win anything, I'm hoping this will be my lucky break. First I need to get into that top 10 so I'm begging you all to go there (not sure if you have to sign up to comment as I'm logged as a blogger there), but my "popularity" is also determined by how many hits are on my blog so tell your friends. Seriously, just post a link somewhere you visit or something. You never know, maybe some of them will actually find my blog interesting.

inspired by

2010-08-01T07:10:00.000-07:00

Not going to lie, this month's banner was a right pain in the ass. Remember that time I made a pumpkin full of candy? Or how about the flowers? The party hat and cupcake? Well none of those times compares to making a stuffed tiger.

If I knew how to use Photoshop my life may have been easier, hell if I even had Photoshop it may have been easier, but no, I'm a stubborn fool who still makes her banners in PowerPoint using Autoshapes. I know, when was it that I swore I was going to give Photoshop a whirl? Well I realized that Photoshop is freaking expensive and for a novice graphic designer (ahem, novice as in no experience whatsoever), that it wouldn't be a good investment.

I did learn something though during the frustrating hours I spent on this thing, I should really stick to, I don't, shapes next time. Despite my frustrations with said tiger, I am quite proud of myself for proving not only mind over matter, but for proving that when it comes down to it, everything really is just composed of shapes. That shows endless creativity right? I mean come on, give me something here! So there, admire my accomplishments, it only took me three hours.

On a happier note, I am FINALLY done painting my grandmother's house. Hallefuckinglujah! Hello money! I'm also doing some more petsitting later this month for my neighbors and seeing as that's been my only source of furry companions all summer, I always look forward to it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes and I was not the creative genius to come up with Hobbes' appearance. My replication is my way of showing my admiration of Bill Watterson's work and I do not intend to profit in any way from using his character in my banner. I don't even use AdSense and make zilch here.

Last Google Search: stuffed Hobbes

stalkers love ebay

2010-07-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

Do you want to know how pathetic I am? I tried using Google to come up with an idea for what to blog about. I know, I know, if I were a good blogger I wouldn't need a search engine for inspiration. Except I'm just not interesting enough so I had to resort to pathetic generic topics. But I've hit a major dry spell on here. I'm not joking, it's like a post-menopausal woman's uterus on here lately. Making inappropriate similes isn't helping much either. I am rather fond of similes though. Aside from paradoxes they are my favorite.

I came across one interesting topic on a marketing blog - how I use facebook. No lie, I use facebook to stalk people. Get out the straitjackets. I no longer use it as a communication tool or networking tool (unless you count stalking of course). The place just isn't new and exciting anymore, in fact I've become increasingly bored with it. Sure, it's a great way to "store" people I may have only met once along with people I've known since I was eight, but it's also a great place to stalk people I no longer talk to but whose lives I'm still rather interested in.

Hey, don't call me a creeper, I care. Actually I think it's more because I like seeing into other people's lives. It's more interesting than bird watching. Am I right? So there you go, you're reading the ramblings of a passive stalker and probably wondering if I've ever stalked your IP Address. I probably have but rest assured I don't discriminate and do it for everyone and I've yet to hunt anyone down or anything. Like I said, passive.

So speaking of facebook and the internet, I came across another generic topic that touched on how I spend my time on the internet. It's nothing profound that's for sure. Other than researching haunted insane asylums, reading ridiculous amounts of fan fiction, and bidding on cheap ebay relics, I don't do too much anymore. Oh and of course I write mundane blog entries on here, but you already knew that. Oh and lately I've been buying my textbooks because yes I would rather spend $115 on a textbook that would have been $250. Textbook prices don't fuck around, college ain't cheap.

I am spending an extra $50 dollars for a book for an animal behavior class to be my "fun" class though since apparently working my ass off for three years isn't enough to earn me a couple easy semesters consisting of only thirteen credits. Hey, I'm a science major, that shit is hard and thirteen always feels like eighteen when it's all science. So yeah, now I'm up to sixteen credits. I hate you world for making me feel like a slacker even if it makes me more enlightened. At least that's what I tell myself to feel better.

I'm getting off topic. The internet, yeah it's great, so great in fact that if you don't want to read this you can just hit that little red X in the corner. Oh free will, ain't it great? Somedays freedom of speech is even better.

Last Google Search: fun blog topics

hairy decisions

2010-07-17T22:05:00.001-07:00

At the salon

Hairdresser: Have you ever considered bangs? They might suit you.

Me: Not really. I haven't had bangs since the age of six. Oh god, I had the most awful bangs back then, I don't know what my mother was thinking.

Hairdresser: (laughing) Well bangs are pretty stylish now and like I said, they might look nice on you. It's up to you though.

Me: Hm, you know why not? I'm always up for something different. Just as long as you don't chop them straight across, I don't want to have horrible flashbacks, having the photos is proof enough.

Hairdresser: (Still laughing) Well if you're sure then. I certainly don't want you to regret the decision.

Me: Nah, it's just hair really. It will grow back. It may even be a welcome change.

Later

Me: Holy shit I have bangs. I feel like an anime character.

exhaustion

2010-07-11T22:23:00.000-07:00

I spent all weekend painting my grandmother's house and will be spending a good portion of this week continuing that. I swear if she wasn't shelling out a couple hundred there is no way I would be doing this. Relative, godmother, whatever - this shitty labor ain't free. Especially when it comes to ceilings, I fucking hate ceilings.

I do have to laugh though when I painted the laundry room and she told me not to worry about painting behind the washer and dryer because she didn't want them to be moved and such. When she croaks the people buying her house are probably going to scratch their head at that one when they finally do have to buy new appliances. I think the worst thing about painting is the abuse it does to my nails which up until now were in pretty good shape, now it looks like I ran them up and down the pavement a couple times as they're all dry and cracked now. I just babied them all month too to fix the damage that results from wearing nitrile gloves and hours in the lab and now they're even worse. Damnit.

What I hate even more though is how incredbibly exhausting my weekend was, which is normally my time to relax. So now I have work tomorrow. As in real work not some shitty side job I took as a favor. I would be happy to only be working a couple hours this week, but unfortuantely the days I'm not working I'm painting. I only hope I finish that this week so next weekend I can do anything but paint.

Last Google Search: Vidcon speeches

more rum than coke

2010-07-09T01:11:00.003-07:00

I have the house to myself tonight and it is lovely. If only it was like this all the time. My parents decided to take a spur of the moment trip to Phoenix to look at a truck for my brother and I guess the deal was so great they couldn't wait until the weekend. Or something, I wasn't really paying attention as I was on my second rum and coke at the time and too absorbed in my latest novel.

My little brother went with though, which is a miracle in itself as this means they successfully dragged him away from his computer/XBox/insert other gaming device. So now it's, yup just as I suspected, 1am and I am currently nursing my fourth rum and coke relishing in the quiet and actually sitting in the family room for once which ironically I only occupy when there is no family around. I don't have work until after lunch tomorrow so I'm not really bothered that it is going to be a late night for me.

I do love the quiet. Although there is a tiny portion of my brain that is slightly worried that if an axe murderer should break through the sliding glass door behind me my alcohol induced state would probably lead to my death. I think I've been watching too many slasher movies. I blame the girls at the dorm and their silly movie marathons which always led to me having nightmares and using intruder-alerting doorstops named Herbert. Don't ask.

I finally got the letter in the mail from the DMV giving me permission to flip my driver's license. Oh happy days, I feel so grown up now that my license will stop being so amateur looking. Take that lady at World Market who checked my ID and had to break out the calculator to make sure I was 21 before reluctantly allowing me to purchase wine. Hopefully the horizontalness of my license will prevent this. Well, I'm not sure where this post is going anymore. Clearly one should not blog when alone and slightly inebriated. Not to mention all the while wondering if there's an axe murderer lurking outside. Perhaps I will drag myself to bed now. Toodles.

Last Google Search: I haven't a clue and the history button looks awfully far away...

Update (1:15PM): Holy shiz, for the first time I logged onto my blog at work and the colors are neon and I mean neon! They are nowhere near as bright on my macbook at home so if they are this bright on your screen I apologize for raping your eyeballs.

can't compare

2010-07-04T16:16:00.000-07:00

The contrasts between this summer and last summer still astound me. Last year I was in Germany, this summer I'm in Flagstaff. Last summer I was living independently in a rented room, this summer I'm living for free with my parents. Last summer I was making three Euros an hour, this summer I'm making nine dollars an hour but earning less per month. One thing I know though when I look back, I have thus far lived up what I've earned. I was so blessed to have Germany, I can't even begin to describe how much that experience changed me and how much I gained from that. I discovered a part of myself that I didn't know existed. It feels like a lifetime ago and I know that phrase is overused and cliche, but each year of my life has become so surreal. I've realized that this is my last "summer." After this it's no more school and I enter the "real world." Whatever that means. How much I've changed astounds me and to think that this blog has been there for most of my college years to see that growth. The summer before college it was forensic camp and folding brochures for money, the summer after freshman year it was Calculus III and hour long chat sessions with a boy, summer after sophomore year it was Germany, and now it's clerical work and typing transcripts. I feel like somehow my summers got all mixed up for some reason.

So where is this blog post going? Well I really wanted to share more travel stories with you all. I truly cherish my travel adventures and want nothing more than to share them for hours with someone. My last fourth was so incredibly different than this one. That weekend went unwritten about on here and I feel like such memorable stories were short-changed. That was the weekend that everyone I had met in Berlin in my language class decided to meet up again in Koln (Cologne for all you non-Germans). That was also the weekend of Gay Pride as the fourth of July means nothing when not in America. Gay Pride in Koln, which is also the gay capital of Germany. Needless to say it was interesting.

I remember my train being late (of course) and by the time I had arrived everyone else I was meeting were already waiting for me and it also happened to be midnight. So we set off for our hostel, but not before seeing the giant cathedral which was mere meters from the station. I remember stopping at the corner store for beer out of habit, just like we had done so many times in Berlin. I remember getting absolutely lost trying to find the hostel and not arriving until after one. Then we just sat in the hostel bar and talked not crashing until four. Waking up we treated ourselves to pastries and coffee before joining the gay pride festivities, we ate brats and drank Koln beer (which is absolutely dreadful I might add for being German beer) while watching some guy sing Coldplay's Viva La Vida.

We ended up wandering along the Rhine watching roller bladers and relaxing in the shade. It was by the river when we decided (well the Americans in the group) that we wanted to do something to celebrate the fourth. So we hunted down a market and purchased packages of precooked brats, half-cooked brotchen (rolls), slabs of cheese and veggies, and two bottles of wine per person. We made our way to our next hostel which was supposed to be fully equipped with a grill and planned to fully live up the fourth. The hostel was near impossible to find, we must have wandered through trailerparks and along sandy beaches for a couple hours before finding the place (I swear they can't ever make hostels easy to find can they?) and when we arrived we were infuriated when they told us we needed a party of 20 to use the grill, we were a party of about half that. A detail they neglected to tell us when we made our reservations and specifically asked if they had a grill.

So with our uncooked brats and rolls, each carrying a bottle of wine, we wandered the trailers and tents we had passed searching for a neglected grill that we could "borrow." When we found none, we pondered the situation, maybe we could simply build a campfire? We had passed a spot that looked to have been a campfire once upon a time and our urges to have a knock-out fourth of July took over as we began gathering sticks. After a couple minutes we were torn. What were the laws regarding campfires in Germany? Was this really wise, setting up a campfire and drinking? After much debate amongst ourselves and many jokes about headlines reading "Inebriated foreign students arrested for arson" we decided against such drastic measures. So we wandered back to the hostel subdued and depressed that our brats would go bad and our rolls weren't crisp like they should be. We then considered trying to bribe other guests to pretend to be part of our group until we had 20 so we could use the grill. This resulted in strange looks.

In the end, we found ourselves in the lobby of the hostel sprawled out each drinking from a bottle of wine as we lacked cups with our uncooked feast sitting on the table. We figured that maybe this classy with a k image would cause the people at the front desk to just cave and let us do some 'grillen.' If you had walked by you could probably feel the despair radiating from us, although that could have been the fumes from all the alcohol. That was until we met Lance. Oh Lance with your long hair and stick arms, you saved us and I will be forever grateful. Lance was the guy who worked behind their little cafe counter and Lance had a pizza oven. We immediately liked Lance and his oven so much we were drawn to him, watching his every move and pondering a strategy.

So us girls got together and decided to approach Lance and tried to secure the use of his oven. We had no luck, he didn't want to budge and didn't even bat an eye. So being in the gay capital and all, we sent our best looking Canadian guy over there, in two minutes flat Lance agreed that we could use the oven but only if he was the one operating it. However, the most he would let us do was toast our bread, but this was better than where we were ten minutes prior drinking away our sorrows. So after having fully cooked bread and brats warmed up with hot water, we dragged our tipsy asses out of the lobby and crammed ourselves onto a picnic bench eating questionable brats, sandwiches and veggies off of tin foil. All still equipped with our wine of course.

Later we took the Underground into the city and galavanted around Koln with all the other drunks, making our way through glass-ridden streets, waving rainbow flags, and setting off sparklers we had purchased at a sex shop and tossing them into the river while singing boisterously. I do recall us girls wandering through a pond at some point and I definitely recall one of my party approaching a group celebrating a bride to be's bachelorette party holding a lit sparkler and trying to give it to them which resulted them in screaming and running away from us crazy foreigners, but I wouldn't trade that stupidity for anything. It was one of the best independence days I could ask for and it wasn't even in the right country. And now I give you proof.

rippppppp

2010-06-30T21:42:00.005-07:00

I seem to have the worst luck with my jeans. I know what everyone is thinking, it happens to everyone right? Get over yourself Chelsea, it's completely normal for your jeans to rip on occasion. Sure, I would be telling myself that in third person, except "on occasion" seems to be defined in the Chelsea dictionary as "occurring at least every couple months."

I remember my first ripped jeans experience. It concerned my favorite pair - light green camo pants with a slight flare at the bottom that I had purchased in seventh grade when they were a size or two too big. I know camo pants right? As if those were ever in style in the 90s! They did make a brief comeback in case you've forgotten or were too young to notice. Sadly those were not the worst of my pants selection in middle school as I also owned a pair of dark navy faux leather/snakeskin pants, but for the purpose of this story and to save my dignity, let's pretend I never purchased those under my own free will and never wore them. Cough, where were we?

Ah yes, back to my camo pants. I loved those pants. I wore them all the time so it's probably no surprise that they ripped eventually. Sadly they managed to rip while I was working at horse stables the summer after eighth grade. I literally do mean "while I was working" as I was at the time of said rippage riding a temperamental black gelding named CJ. Yup, right from the bottom of my ass down my thigh making even the most daring daisy dukes look modest. Oddly the worst part wasn't even the embarrassing factor since we were mostly girls and just laughed it off, no the worst part was having to sit on a hot leather saddle for several hours in the summer sun and hope my ass didn't sear off.

That was encounter number one. The loss of my favorite pair of pants seemed to spark some sort of bad luck sign because ever since then I have dealt with pair after pair of jeans ripping. It's never at a convenient time either and the place where my pants decide to rip each time has somehow managed to get worse and worse. First it was the crotch rip in the mall, okay not so bad when you can easily hide this while standing and sitting as long as you do it right. Of course having your mother exclaim loudly for the whole world to hear that you're unwillingly exposing yourself is not something every girl wants to live through. I didn't recognize anyone though so it was all good. Then it turned into the corner pocket rip which can be disguised as long as you pull your shirt far enough over your ass. Of course being in front of my fellow classmates at the time and trying to hide this in between classes is a little tricky, not impossible, but all the shirt pulling does make people stare.

Yesterday I was not so fortunate as my pants ripped from the top of my ass down my whole right butt cheek. Did I mention I was at work all day and didn't notice this? Not once did I see any sign that my pants had ripped - no laughing, no noticeable staring, nothing seemed unusual at the time. Looking back I'm sure people were staring. But no, that didn't tip me off, it wasn't until I got home and received a message in my email from the girl who supervises me informing me she noticed said rip when I said goodbye and skipped out the door. Sheer mortification. Although it does help that she's still in her twenties and incredibly nice... could you imagine if she were male? It still doesn't erase the fact that I had spent a lot of my day standing, copying, bending over files, etc and walking down the halls and not one person said a word.

If only there was some sort of signal, some sort of hint that half my pink-polka-dot-underwear-wearing-ass was showing. Or I don't know, some built in device that alerts the pants wearer that the pants had lost their integrity. No, that's asking too much of jean companies. Luckily for me I've experienced the ripped pants/your ass is totally showing event more times than I can count and have lost many good jeans because of this so of course I can now live through the experience without showing too much discomfort. In this case, I just brushed it off and was fortunate it wasn't mentioned outside of that email.

So today when choosing my attire, I decided to go with loose cotton navy capris instead of jeans. Just to be on the safe side.

Last Google Search: what are silly bandz?

life updates and such

2010-06-27T20:13:00.002-07:00

I've gotten to the point in my life where I read the last chapter of every book I pick up and check to make sure it ends happy. If it doesn't, I don't bother checking it out. Ironically knowing a story ends happy often causes me to not really want to read that story and so lately I've read considerably less than I did at the start of the summer. Well that and I've been super busy.

I was driving down 89 and past the recently charred acreage that is Silver Saddle, the air still a little hazy from the fire, and I was stuck behind some guy with Cali plates with a cigarette hanging out the window. Go set your own fucking state on fire, I like my trees. On another note, if I see a fireman in the next couple months I would probably hug him.

I've been working a lot with little free time. Sadly this work is neither rewarding nor fun, but it's a job and in this economy I'm not going to complain because the fact is, I have a job. I do have to say though, working in a department so driven by finances around the end of the fiscal year is stressful and exhausting. I did get to type up an interview on the anthrax guy at NAU which was fascinating even if it did take me eight hours.

This week alone I've been bribed twice to do things for my parents and because they've been very busy and I need the cash, I've accepted. Thus far I've earned a hundred bucks for scraping away paint and a full tank of gas for simply playing chauffeur. I've also been enlisted in several small projects for neighbors and relatives and paired with my recent employment I've managed to regain the comfortable amount in my bank account that was dwindling away all semester.

O is coming up from Tucson to visit next week and no matter how many exclamation points I use, I couldn't express how excited I am to see her. It's been well over a year since she retired as my roommate and graduated and I am so glad to catch up. Not to mention it will be nice to have a female friend around to talk to since none of my other female friends live here. I do miss her as she and I share the same kind of sarcastic humor that I haven't found in anyone else yet and as cliche as it sounds, her and I just sort of get each other. Even though next week is going to be super busy, I wouldn't miss seeing her for anything no matter how limited my free time is.

My sleep schedule is still really wacky. No matter how exhausted I am I always find myself waking up sometime around 2am and not being able to fall back asleep until 5am, which makes waking up for work just brutal. I'm not sure if I should seek pharmaceutical help on this, becoming dependent on sleeping pills is rather worrisome.

I spent a couple hours today making July's banner and it's very bright and cheerful so be prepared for neon, and I'm not talking the element per say.

Last Google Search: tres leche cake recipe

firing out thoughts

2010-06-20T06:58:00.007-07:00

Pun fully intended.

For anyone currently occupying the Flagstaff area, you would have to be not only blind but also lack lungs to have noticed yesterdays unexpected wildfire whose location I am still a bit iffy as I can only testify that it was somewhere south of Little America. Or 'is' maybe a better term as I can still hear the slurry bombers even in the wee hours of the morning.

Now my parents live a couple miles away from Little America and we weren't really worried about our house being in danger as the fire would have to blow through a couple neighborhoods to even reach us and if by any stretch it did, well that would be pure devastation as hundreds would have already lost their homes before it would even reach my house.

However, putting this aside, we still got the standby evacuation call early on in the afternoon and at the time we really had no idea where the fire was only that there was definitely a fire since we could see the smoke in the sky, smell it in our house, hell even hear the brigade of planes.

Now on to the whole reason I'm typing up this rather lengthy summary of last nights events, I have to say that deciding what to pack in the event of a possible evacuation is the most nerve racking and surreal experience. Half my shit is boxed up from when I started uni, a good chunk still scattered around from moving back from the dorms, and the rest neatly tucked away in my room. How the hell does one choose what to take?

I felt like the most selfish being on the planet for wanting to prepare as much of it as possible. I also felt crazy since I was literally asking my possessions whether they were worthy enough to be saved. Yes, I was asking inanimate objects questions! They're locking me up a loony bin as I type this.

The first things that I wanted to save were my books - my textbooks, first edition Harry Potter hardcovers, and my complete collection of Calvin and Hobbes - those being my main concern. How nerdy could I get? I know that 'technically' they are replaceable, but honestly that's a good couple thousand dollars worth of paper I would not want to part with. Next came my box of memories containing my photo albums, old letters and postcards, and my yearbooks.

Aside from those things, I was at a loss. The problem with being in this situation is you think it will be easy. Stick to the photos and important documents and leave the rest right? That's what they tell you anyways. But what about all my collectable items that I boxed up years ago and couldn't locate? And the several boxes of books that made up my personal library? Is it selfish to want to save such material possessions? Okay, granted the chances of my house burning to the ground was very slim, but you never know with these things.

So it really got me thinking about how greedy I truly am. I never saw myself as materialistic, how can a girl so frugal, a girl who asked for a single book for her 21st birthday above more lavish gifts, be so concerned with saving the majority of her possessions? I guess that's just it though, most of my possessions mean something to me. They aren't just books, they are the start of the library I hope to someday have in my house and textbooks with personalized notes inside, they are collectables from deceased relatives and forgotten friends and travels.

It was just too overwhelming to have to come to terms with the fact that should I ever have to evacuate, I will have to choose between the things I value. I can at least take comfort in the fact that I wasn't the only one as my mother was freaking out about an unopened Beatles album she couldn't find that had been packed away all the way to the paintings in our family room to her grandmother's china and school assignments she saved from my childhood. I reached the harsh realization that should my house burn down, precious things would go unsaved and I can only imagine the type of loss people feel upon losing not just their home, but anything that was left behind containing even an inkling of personal value. When faced with this situation what would you grab? I just went through this and I still have no fucking clue.

To lighten up the mood we had ribs for dinner and when my mom asked why they weren't grilled my dad replied "well we wouldn't want to scare the neighbors with the smoke since they're already freaked out as it is now would we?" which got a laugh out of us at the table. I could just see the fire trucks pulling up to our house...

Last Google Search: Hardy Fire updates

hmph, words

2010-06-12T22:53:00.008-07:00

I've been slowly torturing myself. No I haven't been cutting, that gives me the creeps. Nor am I bulimic since I dislike bodily fluids. My dislike of bodily fluids has really peaked in these last couple months making me wonder if I actually have some sort of OCD, it's very possible. Back on topic. I've been purposely depriving myself of sleep. I don't know why, but the feel of being so incredibly exhausted to almost delirium has been like a drug to me. I think there's something wrong with me. I think I'm crazy.

I housesat my neighbors pets for a couple weeks. Their dog reminded me of a little kid. It kind of made me happy but it also made me really miss my dog. I feel like no time has passed and that just sucks.

Things at home aren't improving. My despot of a mother is actually monitoring how much I turn the shower faucet accusing me of turning it too far. I bet prisons don't even track this. Because I know you will believe me, trust me when I say I turn each knob no more than half an inch. Yet she can't seem to let it go. I honestly think she's only being this controlling because she's lost control over a lot of things this month. If I were seven I would run away. Sadly I am twenty-one with no legal obligation to stay and could leave anytime, but with nowhere to leave to.

I dislike radio ads and think radio stations should just cut them out. I also don't think the words "designer" and "underwear" belong together. Especially when associated with men. I mean honestly, if you are paying more than a couple bucks for a pair there is something seriously wrong.

This summer I have already read several dozen stories. Whether they are novels or fanfiction (don't judge) I've definitely surpassed at least a million words. As much as I love reading, the majority of what I've read has been downright depressing. It's really starting to make me question what 'happy' even means anymore.

I've realized why my blog is starting to become sort of nonexistant. I not only have nothing to talk about, but my life has become so incredibly uninteresting that I can't even write about my everyday activities without boring myself. Like this post. Giving me one of many reasons why I'm going to stop pretending that I have something to say.

Last Google Search: unrefrigerated carrots

epiphany

2010-06-01T09:25:00.001-07:00

I've come to realize that I don't really need this blog anymore. Not like before anyways.

On Saturday, from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed, I had a very mentally taxing and rough day. I had one of those days that makes you wonder why you put up with all the shit in this world and don't just end it there. So, like all crazed suicidally depressed people, I found myself looking at this same page and typing up my self-pity in a nice long blog entry.

I intended to publish that post, I intended to put it out there for other depressed people to read it, I intended to make my feelings known. But then I realized something. I no longer need to hit "publish post" for the therapeutic effects to take place.

When I first created this blog, half the therapy seemed to occur during those brief few seconds after hitting publish post and waiting for the words to load on my screen, the words I had typed out for the world to see. Except now, just by typing up all my angst and self-loathing, I managed to get it off my back and out of my mind. I managed to skip that necessary step of needing to publish my words and entered into the land of unpublished, yet just as therapeutic, posts. Posts which will remain as drafts never to be read by the public eye.

So I guess to sum it all up, I'm going to keep this blog, but I may not be using very much. The fact that I only published five times in May alone proves that I've come to rely on it less and less. Not to mention my summer is getting busier and I just don't care anymore if details of my life go unwritten on here. Perhaps I'll return to blogging at the level I was at before after some time has passed and something monumental has actually happened to me, but right now it just feels right to publish as infrequently as I please.

That may mean no more posts or one post a month, whatever. With the loss of people to talk to, I've discovered that I'm actually doing okay with keeping my own secrets and thoughts to myself. Because right now I've found more enjoyment out of creating this months banner than actually writing about it. That's never happened before.

Surely that's a sign that maybe this place isn't as special as it once was.

a title seems hard

2010-05-21T10:43:00.004-07:00

I don't even know how to start this post. One note of rushed words has taken every coherent thought from my head and bombarded it with the same thoughts over and over. I have to write it somewhere though. I can't let that note be the only reminder for how I feel. Three letters. An acronym. I froze with my head against the fridge. My eyes screwed shut and my hands shook. The crisp 100 dollar bill stuck to the back just made me feel sicker.

How could this happen? How could you let it? You're better than that. I just have to ask, why? I feel like the framework of everything I thought about you is shifting. You aren't that person, are you? Were you? Have you been? How long? And once again why? I don't understand. I'm supposed to look up to you. I never have before, but I never thought that you would take that right from under me like this.

I feel like everything I thought is now gone, completely consumed with this new memory. The memory of me walking into the kitchen and reading that note. The disappointment and the anger. Is it deserved? I want to believe it isn't, but how could you be so stupid? So careless for how much you impact those around you? I don't have much to go off, I just have those letters haunting my vision. My world just doesn't feel the same. That carefree summer feeling is gone and in its place is the raw burn from life.

I want to cry, but I'm numb. I want to talk to someone, but I don't have anyone. I want to yell and to scream at you, but you aren't here. Why?

life crisis perhaps?

2010-05-14T21:46:00.002-07:00

Mother: (holding up empty box of tampons) Have you ever tried these? They are the worst tampons in the world!

Me: Err... no

Mother: I think I'm going to write to the company.

Me: That's nice, have fun with that.

Mother: Speaking of, I left a box of tampons under your sink. They're all different colors!

Me: ...Um that's nice mom, I just bought some last week though.

Mother: But they're really adorable and they-

Me: (Interrupting her) Can we possibly stop discussing tampons?

*****

Mother: You know you should lock the door when you're home by yourself.

Me: I do.

Mother: It wasn't locked today though.

Me: That's because I just got home a few minutes before you did and my full bladder had priority over my safety at the time.

Mother: Well you know you shouldn't answer the door for strangers right? And I already filled out the census so if someone comes saying they are from the census, don't let them in!

Me: Yes mother. So I guess serial killers are out of the question?

Mother: You know I'm being serious, you don't have a dog anymore to alert you when someone is at the door.

Me: Yeah, thanks for bringing that up. For one, Orrie would have greeted a robber with a wagging tail, second, I am not six anymore.

Little Brother: Yeah, the only thing you would hear from Orrie would be "thump, thump, thump" from her tail.

Me: Like I said... and lastly, have you really had that many strange men come to the door?

Mother: No we've never had a stranger come to the door.

Me: This conversation is now moot.

Mother: No it isn't, your father and I are going out of town Sunday and-

Me: (Interrupting) ... And all the numbers we could possibly need should the house implode or I accidentally murder Eric are on the fridge, which I'm guessing contains at least three emergency contact people along with the exact location of the hotel you and dad are staying at down to the last longitudinal degree.

Mother: Well you don't have to get smart with me.

*****

Please rescue me before she tries to spoon feed me please. No seriously, have you tasted baby food? That stuff is repulsive. Not to mention if I hear any spoon to airplane analogies I'm going to shoot myself.

Last Google Search: Pato Thai menu

fads not followed

2010-05-10T17:44:00.004-07:00

I never had a furby as my parents not only refused to participate in the madness of acquiring one, but I just didn't want one. I had already gotten into giga pets but the idea of a gremlin look-a-like that talked just didn't appeal to me. From what it sounds like they were nothing but annoying anyways so perhaps this is a good thing.
As an avid reader since the second grade I have encountered my fair share of mass produced paperbacks, but some series that I just never got into were The Babysitters Club books and Nancy Drew. Reading about a bunch of silly girls just couldn't hold a candle to a jelly monster with poor hygiene*
Not once did I have a Disney princess birthday party, or even a cake with figurines and fluorescently dyed frosting. Store cakes and themed parties just didn't have a place in my household. I was spoiled instead with box cakes my mother had crafted into animals. In fact most Disney movies weren't my thing either. Wanna guess if I've ever been to Disneyland?
I still don't even know what pogs are and what purpose they served. I recall encountering the term, but either I never played with them or just can't remember ever playing with them.
Teletubbies, Sesame Street, Barney, Rugrats, and TV shows in general. I lived outside of city limits without cable and I didn't discover what Nickelodeon even was until I visited my cousins in Connecticut in sixth grade.
I had pokemon cards, most of which were rejects from my brothers, but none of us actually knew how to play the game and I only collected the "cute" ones. In fact did anyone ever play the game? Looking back I only recall people spending their allowance money on the ones that were shiny.
I have and probably will never understand the appeal of lolcats. I don't understand how this internet sensation/meme has become so popular. What's so great about bad grammar and mispelling words that puts dyslexics** to shame? And pairing them with a photo of a cat? This just seems way below my comprehension level.
Twitter. The whole point of it seems to try and turn something mundane into the most interesting thing before anyone else. I signed up for one, but I just never grasped the point of it and honestly found it confusing and boring at the same time.
Skinny jeans and leggings just don't look good on me, actually they don't look good on over half the people that insist on wearing them. Why wear something that is so unflattering on so many body types just for the sake of following a trend?
Text messaging and cell phones which I am still convinced is the cause of all the slang use in daily conversations (LOL should never be used as a verb!) and the downfall of people's ability to listen. I just never got too wrapped up into contributing to the lack of communication and coherence that exists in today's society.

*Star points if you know what book I'm talking about

**I have nothing against dyslexics. I'm related to two so don't even go there. Also to clarify, in my opinion texting lingo is not considered any form of diagnosable dyslexia. Just laziness and stupidity.

Last Google Search: Nickelodeon spelling

summer haze

2010-05-09T12:31:00.002-07:00

Summer feels like a ticking clock. I haven't had a summer this free for five years and as each day passes I feel like it's going by so quickly. Except it's only been three days so something tricky is going on inside my brain. I haven't felt this unoccupied in ages. No work, no travel, no school, not even an ounce of volunteering. I haven granted myself anything but a completely free schedule. It's like I'm finally having that summer most high school kids have. Except even my brother has a job. I feel so incredibly lazy, worthless, and sadly dependent.

Maybe I should have taken summer classes just for the sake of doing something. Except I don't actually need them, they don't pay, and they just wipe me out before school resumes again in the fall. I hate myself for all this free time, but mostly I hate myself last semester for not trying very hard at getting a job. I spent so much of my time hiding from the world trying to achieve greatness in school and kept telling myself "summer is far away, you have plenty of time" and before you know it summer was here and the few internships I scrapped up applications for were rejected or went unreplied. A huge self-esteem kicker since last summer I somehow got into an amazing program with fewer recommendations and a generically written cover letter. But when I actually try? Rejection.

So I thought to make some goals up for myself. Whether or not I actually accomplish all these is another story.

1. Find job - Make plural if necessary to earn enough money to get the hell out of AZ upon graduation since the 600 dollars currently in my bank account just ain't gonna cut it. Or at least ensure I no longer have to live with my parents. Get past the fear of rejection and instead harass, beg, bribe, and do whatever it takes to get hired in something, anything, that I can slap on my resume and call "experience."

2. Study for GREs and PCATs - Perhaps by December I will be ready to pwn both of these exams giving me scores that will offer up scholarship money, or at least reduced tuition. I refuse to repeat the financial aid mishap that ensued when choosing an undergraduate institution.

3. Volunteer - Where did that motivated girl go who was an active volunteer until about a year ago? She was a lot happier back then. Find her and drag her back to the volunteer world and surround her with puppies. And dog poop.

4. Run every day - Laziness has become me, and now there's no school to act as an excuse so help my mental health. I will get back into shape, even if it kills me. No really, I'm serious this time.

5. Clean, clean, clean - There is no explanation for storing so much stuff in a place I haven't lived in over two years. Clearly it's all stuff I do not need.

6. Give Doctor Who a second chance - This requires actually finishing the pilot episode and not turning it off ten minutes in.

7. Take occasional weekend trips - To temporarily prevent insanity from not being wealthy enough to travel overseas anymore and from having no place to live but back with my parents.

8. Look into furthering my education - Even if that means just signing up for mailing lists or making a couple phone calls about admission requirements. I need to know what exactly is involved in this whole pharmacy school business aside from the 80,000 dollars I do not possess.

9. Turn 21 - Which seems rather anticlimactic after having spent so much time in Europe. I will finally be able to make Sangria, or rather I will finally be able to make Sangria legally. Better yet I can drink it legally too.

Okay so that last one doesn't really count since it's obviously going to happen whether I do anything about it or not since the passage of time is not something I can control. Unfortunately.

Last Google Search: pinot grigio suggestions

life with the crazies

2010-05-07T11:27:00.003-07:00

This semester I started growing garlic and learned to never bring it home

Me (walking through the door with plant)

Mother: Ooh, what's that? Did you buy it?

Me: No it's garlic, I planted it this semester.

Mother: How fascinating! That's wild! So you planted the entire bulb?

Me: No just a clove.

Mother: Wow that's great! And it just grows?

Me: It's really not that big of deal...

Father: I told you that you shouldn't have shown that to your mother, she's going to want to use it for a bath next time she's sick...

*****

A ten-minute conversation about pie cut down to a several sentences

Mother (to my father): Your mom is bringing coconut cream pie over on Sunday, she says it's one of your favorites. I honestly don't know where she got that from.

Father: I don't mind coconut cream pie, but I wouldn't say it's one of my favorites. It was my dad's favorite. You know I'd have to say that blueberry pie and pecan are my favorites. In fact probably pecan with blueberry coming in close second.

Mother (to me): Speaking of pie, I was going to buy a cake for your birthday (which for reference isn't until June), do you have a preference?

Father (mumbling in the background): Yeah, pecan and blueberry are definitely my number one pie choices. Although cream isn't bad if it's from the right place...

Me (to my mother): Ew, store bought cake. I'm making a cake and it's going to have liquor in it.

Mother: You're making your own cake?

Me: I did year before last, plus mine taste better than any other store bought cake.

Father: You know I'd have to say that pecan pretty much goes hand in hand with blueberry. I don't think I could choose between the two. You know what kind of pie I really don't like though, key lime. It's like eating kool-aid....

*****

A seven minute conversation about tortes / torts / tortas half an hour after pie conversation

Mother (to me): So does this mean you are going to make something for my birthday too?

Me: Depends, what do you want?

Mother: Well I'm not really a pie or cake person.

Me: How helpful... how about a torte.

Mother: Oh a torte might be nice. I've never had a torte. What constitutes a torte exactly?

Me: But you ate some of the torte I made over Spring Break...

Father (cuts in): You know what's really good! A torta!

Mother: Isn't that the same thing as a torte?

Father: No, a tort is spelled differently. It's just t-o-r-t.

Me: Dad you realize the word torte is French right. As in there's a silent "e" at the end?

Mother (to Father laughing): Dear you're just saying it wrong, the "e" isn't an "a" sound. It's the same thing.

Father: No, I'm talking about a torta, you know it's a sandwich (starts going to extensive detail describing tortas)

Mother (after my Father is finished): But we were talking about desserts.... I don't get what sandwiches have to do with any of that.

*****

There you have it, this will be the summer I'm forced to spend the summer with crazy people who argue about trivial things like deserts and garlic plants for extended periods of time. Kidnap me please.

Last Google Search: torta

multiple choices

2010-04-30T09:56:00.004-07:00

I have and I will probably never be good at multiple choice exams. On too many tests I have severely lacked the ability to differentiate between the reasonable answers and the one that is considered to be most right. Part of my problem stems from all the different sources of information that are readily available these days. I take a class aimed specifically towards one thing but then the same topic is breached in another class and when it comes to exam time I just can't differentiate between the knowledge I know and the single fact I learned in the class I am being tested in.

Is that even justified? To ask students to take exams on only the subject material they learned from a single class without considering any other knowledge or factors from previous classes? It's almost encouraging, to use an overly cliche phrase, thinking solely inside the box.

How are we, a generation faced with numerous growing problems, supposed to solve anything if what my education has taught me is to only worry about finding a single solution. That's how I often feel anyways. With multiple choice tests there is no room for interpretation on any other solution being a possibility.

Sure, some questions will have definite right and wrong answers, but shouldn't education somehow be adapting to trying to get students to connect the information that they do know and come up with their own answers? I would think that by now classes would aim to stimulate thinking and improve problem-solving rather than test what is, for the most part, well known.

I cannot dispute the importance of a good foundation of knowledge and how important basic understanding of concepts is to learning, but at the same time I am forced to question whether I feel confident in being able to apply what I have learned to just a few of the problems facing us. Problems that don't allow you to choose between A or C, but rather forge ahead and find some solution Z or solution X that isn't staring you in the face. Or to even consider the possibility that there may never be a solution.

In high school everyone worries about preparing students for college, but in college what do we worry about? Do we ever consider life after college? I know a good handful of people who graduated last year, people who were thrown into a rough economy and expected to succeed and find jobs. I know few who have actually accomplished this and none who have applied a single fact they had to memorize. In college we live in a safety bubble and there just doesn't seem to be that fear like there is in high school of preparing for that next step.

Why doesn't education try to achieve this sort of thing? Is it even possible to incorporate such outside thinking into a system that functions by differentiating between those right and wrong answers as these are the basis for the grades that determine one's success?

Or is this just me? Do my insecurities about my own education even translate to others? Does anyone even care? Is there anyone even there? I'm pretty certain at this point that I'm just preaching to Casper.

Last Google Search: hydrogen

spring denied

2010-04-29T16:03:00.004-07:00

Monday the sun was shining. Now it's snowing. This is just how my life has been going all year. At least the flowers don't seem to be taking it personally.

Last Google Search: Taverna Flagstaff

dusk

2010-04-26T22:28:00.008-07:00

There are nights when the winds seem to shift and sweep through the cracked streets bringing feelings of surrealism. The sky is a misty pink from the balmy day, the day still light enough to where the sodium lights have no effect. In the distance the only sounds are words echoing throughout the dusty air. To unfocused ears the words sound like "Go home, go home" as if someone is yelling away a stray dog. "What home?" an invisible thought replies. A middle-aged woman with a shopping cart and a sleeping bag passes through the crosswalk, her bulging stomach and red lunch box swaying with each labored step. There are no homes tonight to return to. Couples walk the crumbling sidewalks, hand in hand, not rushing to get to a specific destination. Green dresses and knee high brown boots, loosely buttoned collars and faded khaki sandals, lazily stepping on weeds that have sprung from the cracks. Dogs with tongues drooping, taking excited steps in the heavy air, their owners walking with a similar spring in their steps. The flowers are even rejoicing, stock straight and taking in any last rays of sunlight. Summer is approaching, time is almost up.

Last Google Search: hippo clip art

egotistical me

2010-04-25T12:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Blogging Community, you should know that right now you are reading the words of a Russ Powell award recipient and proud owner of a "honk if you passed p-chem" bumper sticker. Hold back your enthusiasm and put it towards congratulatory remarks in the comments section. Now you may be thinking, there are surely more honorable awards out there of much more monetary worth and recognition, but I don't see you waving around a 500 dollar check. In fact I am so amazing that I somehow earned this award by just being me and being the confused human being I am when it comes to what I want to do.

My now advisor and used-to-be research faculty spoke about my versatility and my numerous different experiences which really were not a result of me trying to be versatile, but rather me being confused about what I even want to do with my life. I guess that makes this feat even more impressive. I mean how many people are given money without actually trying to earn it but purely for some weird quirk in their personalities? Or such lack of decision and direction in their lives? Yeah, I must be pretty great. So let's raise our glasses to the lost and confused minds of the world! They're worth more than you think. At least 500 dollars more.

Last Google Search: murine reproductive tract

blood and boys in skirts

2010-04-22T16:34:00.002-07:00

Today I toured the hospital laboratories with a small group from my Cell and Molec class and discovered the embarrassing fact that I get extremely faint at the sight of blood. Or at least at the sight of blood bank fridges. I don't think I could explain to the full extent how mortifying it is to walk into a room completely normal feeling and three minutes later experience not only the room spinning but the darkness starting to close in. I spent the good portion of the dizzy feeling trying to push it away and ignore it, mind over matter right? The goal, to not have to admit in front of my peers and prof that I felt like I could keel over at any second. However, by the time the room started tilting causing me to tilt with it paired with blackness filling up the corners of my vision I muttered out a "I think I'm going to faint."

My professor instructed me to bend over and breathe and pushed a chair at me where I sat down for the next five minutes with my eyes shut sweating profusely and trying not to fall over onto the floor. I was told that I was paper white and instructed to go to the cafeteria to get something to drink. The act of just walking the cold hallways seemed to clear my head and the mortified part of my brain just wanted to leave, but driving right away didn't seem like the smartest of options. So I willed myself back into the laboratory where everyone looked at me like I would collapse at any second. The rest of the tour I felt lightheaded and tried to at least act normal and ignore my prof asking me at the sight of each blood slide or vial if I was feeling okay. I said yes every time, all those blood bags appeared to have the most substantial effect.

So there you have it, I suffer from what at least 15% of the population suffers from and I didn't even see it coming since up to this point I haven't had much of a problem. People who faint at the sight of blood seem to always get a bad rep for being pansies and whatnot, but really it is not something that you can easily control. I can say this from experience and mind over matter really doesn't get you too far. I now have sympathy for other fainters like me since now I know not just how embarrassing it is, but how it's really hard to just take a breath and pretend like there's no effect. Not only that, but after some research it may be an inherited survival tactic to try and prevent one from bleeding to death since fainting drops your blood pressure. Take that critics, I may have a better chance of surviving a violent stabbing.

It's not even a matter of my newly discovered condition being a phobia since I can't really say that I fear blood. I can be bleeding or see other people bleeding (not gushing blood mind you) and be okay. Although vomit and needles are a whole different story. But seeing all that blood just sitting in a fridge unnatural looking with vein-like plastic tubes sticking out of the bags, there is definitely an observable reaction on my part. I can just imagine the number of people that have already been told about "that girl who almost fainted." Good thing the end of the semester is almost here so I don't have to face my prof or these people ever again.

On the weird side it's snowing again and while walking back to my dorm I saw a teenage-looking boy wearing an ankle length sheer black skirt over his jeans. Sometimes college attire makes me wonder. Although for all I know he was just a boyish looking she dressed for Halloween.

Last Google Search: overcoming fainting from blood

sleep study

2010-04-20T02:12:00.003-07:00

Sleep is a funny thing. For me it seems to have become more of a hobby than an actual need. I have been functioning off as little as two hours a night and yet no consequences have been observed thus far. My grades are typical Chelsea fashion, what little focus I still have this close to summer is still there, I am still getting things done on time and my creativity still oozes out of my head and onto paper.

During the times that I used to reserve for sleep I have been researching sleep deprivation studies and am intrigued by the side effects of little to no sleep. I'm considering performing my own sort of sleep study as soon as school is out and seeing just how long I can function without sleep. I want to really catalog what I go through - emotionally, physically, and mentally. A sort of sleepless diary if you will discussing any and all side effects and results. I think it would be fascinating.

Sure, it may sound like punishment to the average person, but to me it's not only interesting, but right now I'm pretty certain I could go at least a few days without feeling any effect. To combat the boredom that comes with being awake when everyone else is unconscious, I will probably just end up doing what I do now. Which includes reading, watching the Big Bang Theory on yidio, or researching topics of interest through the research database at my university. Not to mention my occasional trips to Denny's for some pie or toast.

I probably shouldn't be excited for this, but left with nothing to do over the summer but job hunt in a town of few to none Chemistry jobs, I feel like I have found something that at least for present has captivated my interests. Who knows, maybe the lack of sleep has caused me to already go insane leading to my enthusiasm for this new "hobby" of mine. At least for several days. Should provide some good blogging material either way.

Last Google Search: death by sleep deprivation

a knoll to combat feeling down

2010-04-15T17:10:00.009-07:00

The first day I worked on the island the weather was decent but became increasingly wetter as the day progressed. However, as it was only my first day and work finished early(ish) Alice, Meghan and I weren't tired by the end of it and thought of hitchhiking down to the port to see what was around. Or told us that in a couple hours it would be dark and instead we should hike to the top of one of the island's knolls that we could easily see from ekpaz. He agreed to come with us a a sort of guide and told us it wouldn't take any longer than half an hour to get to the top.

So we ventured off into the greek wilderness, which to be honest wasn't that wild. Of course we were coming from ekpaz, where the wild and crazy comes to dance. However, the roads were muddy and soon our shoes were caked, every step became heavy and we were stopping every few minutes to scrape them off into the rough shrubs. Climbing the knoll passed in a series of phases. There was the incredibly muddy portion at the bottom, leading to the muddy yet rockier part in the middle, and then finally to the "holy shit I'm going to slide to my death" part near the top. However at the top we were surprised by a little white church with a terra cotta tiled roof and a wooden ladder (handmade by the looks of it). Leave it to the Greeks to build a church on top of a hill, as if carrying up the materials wouldn't be difficult. The rain was now coming down in full force and the wind had given us that unattractive tornado swept look, but the views were still breathtaking, even with the poor visibility.

With the wind forcing us to yell to be heard and the rain stinging our faces, it seemed like the perfect time to climb the rickety old ladder to the top of the church. In all honesty it was all Or's idea. However, actually following some tiny little Israeli man to the top of the church roof was all on us. It's amazing how much difference a little stupidity and ten feet gets you. Perched on that roof with my eyes half closed I swore my life was going to end and photos with Or were taken to document my possible cause of death. Except I'm here typing this so I obviously lived. Once we were able to steady ourselves in the tiles that weren't actually sliding off the roof and our eyes stopped watering from the gusts, we took a look around and really saw what ten extra feet got us. The views were even more breathtaking and we sat transfixed no longer by fear, but by 360 degrees of blue water.

Quite often the things that Earth surrounds us with makes me wish that cities never existed and skies had stayed unpolluted. On days when things are not going exactly as planned, such as Tuesday, I always end up looking through all my travel photos and envisioning I am elsewhere. I don't know where my next adventure will be, but I am hoping it will be sometime in the near future. I just haven't had enough near-death, awe-inpiring views from church roofs yet.

worst day ever

2010-04-13T16:02:00.003-07:00

My Cell and Molec professor forgot to email the notes for class so on the one day she expected us to take notes I didn't have a pen or paper
I broke my favorite bowl today (handmade of course thus irreplaceable) by dropping it off my desk
While trying to save my bowl, I also knocked over my tea which got all over my lap and my newly printed lab report
I somehow lost my ID between getting back from my lab and dropping off my library books which just seems impossible since it was in my ID holder which has a freaking zipper to keep it shut. This will now be the third time I have to shell out $25 for a new one (which by the way the second time was not my fault since it suddenly stopped working and my school refused to replace it for free). Except this time it also had my free bus pass sticker on it.
I got a parking ticket for the three minutes (seriously) I was parked in the "employee only" parking lot because I had to return said library books and all the meter spots were taken
Tonight I have yet another stupid Campbell meeting where I will have to deal with the president who I still cannot stand
And finally I have a test on Thursday that no matter how hard I study for it will still grind my ass into the ground because even if I had a month to learn all this information, I would still fail. Stupid past me for deciding to take a stupid graduate level Toxicology class which is just lowering my GPA.

So now I am going to have a cry session and drown in my own pity with the hope that it makes me feel just a little better. Happy fucking Tuesday.

murder and madonna

2010-04-12T19:58:00.001-07:00

Last night was the murder mystery dinner and aside from the "slimy as if I had already been eaten" imitation stir fry for the main course, it was the perfect end to an otherwise drab weekend. My randomly assigned character related so much to my toxicology class that it seemed planned. I was the defensive live-in nurse who studied poisons by night and made home remedies for insomnia laced with arsenic by day. So of course it was only logical that the victim should die from traces of arsenic, however, that would be too predictable of a plot so naturally I was not the murderer. However, accusing each other of prostitution, love triangles, and driving drunk was the perfect way to spend a Sunday night. Clearly I need to liven up my life if two hours of squabbling and accusations makes my weekend seem exciting.

This weekend was a pretty strange one too as I spent all of it wishing it were actually over for the simple fact that Glee returns on Tuesday. I am suffering from major withdrawal and these last couple weeks it has only intensified. TV had never affected me to quite this extent, it's embarrassing. Especially with a show that has been compared to high school musical, which for the record I hated. Did you know that I have watched the first ten seconds of one of the promos over ten times in the last couple days just to hear Lea Michele's intro of Madonna's "Like a Prayer?" My obsession with this show is clearly unhealthy. Also, if I could be anyone in the whole world, right now I would be Jane Lynch. I mean sure, her seething gaze and protruding neck veins sometimes give me nightmares, but I would pay a fortune to have even an ounce of her sharp wit. That's probably not a dream I should admit to any future employers since I'm supposed to be more into curing cancer or some other life-threatening disease. I'll just have to keep my true life ambitions on the down-low.

In the meantime, more travel tales will resume as soon as I have the concentration to sort through my memories once again.

a rant that needs advice

2010-04-08T19:41:00.002-07:00

I often suffer from "I can't stand you for no good reason" syndrome. It always starts out the same, I can tolerate that person, I can even be okay acquaintances with that person, but within a couple months I just become irritated with that person. I am experiencing these feelings now with the president of my dorm. When the semester started I hung out with her and talked to her and now quite frankly I can't stand her. Normally I would write this on my private blog, but I wouldn't even have the chance to get advice from anyone that way. So these are the "reasons" I have compiled as to why she irritates me, if I am being irrational let me know because quite frankly I don't know why this happens and could use some serious perspective.

She's an elementary ed. major who gets to make board games and costumes as homework. Yet she seems to go to great lengths trying to convince everyone how much work she has to do. Okay, I'm sorry, but having no final exams at the end of the year and only a few papers or presentations does not make me pity you. I have one exam left, four finals to take, two papers, one presentation on a scientific article, and one four-part project on metabolism, not to mention weekly homework. So it's hard for me to feel even a little bad for her. Does this make me unable to feel compassion towards others?
She has become very controlling in her role as president. I feel like she's one of those people who likes to be in charge. I also think that she takes pleasure in being privy to knowledge that she doesn't necessarily have to share. A couple meetings ago she talked about how we might be stripped of our self-governing privileges (which she was completely exaggerating), but then wouldn't elaborate on why and became quite bitchy when we pestered her about specific examples. If you can't talk about something, then why bring it up in the first place?
She and another girl monopolize the TV quite often (does this not support reason 1?). When I do get a break in my work or need to just veg out for a little, they are always down there. I understand that if you get there first, the TV is yours. Except on weekends when Stacy and I sometimes watch a movie on a Saturday night, they have already "claimed" it as theirs and seem to get pissed when we come down. If there's something an education major knows how to do, shouldn't it be sharing?
She borrowed my grater for cheese and then ended up using it for grating crayons for a project. Not only am I mad that she used it for crayons when I use it for food, but she didn't even give it back to me.
She often treats me like I am someone to be pitied. When I put on documentary nights I honestly do it more for me and couldn't care less if other people come because I really do enjoy them. I heard it down the stairwell one night that she only comes to "support me" and doesn't care for my tastes in any kind of film let alone informative ones. I don't need "support" because with or without an audience I will still enjoy my night and this way at least I am guaranteed a bit of TV time. Plus, why bother watching a film if you refuse to try and learn something? I mean really, I'm not forcing her to sit through "my taste" in films.
I spent three months of this semester filling out hall request forms to get us new kitchen stuff, I coordinated and made phone calls, took inventory, did research on more high-quality items, I was the one who picked up the items and labeled them, I reorganized all the cabinets and put labels on those. Yet after all my hard work the only thing she has to say is "What is a coriander? I thought they were colanders (when pointing at one of my labels)." Should I have apologized for making those labels at 2am in a hurry to get them done so the new stuff could be put in the kitchen and used? Or maybe I should have apologized for my brain's inability to distinguish between a herb and a strainer at that hour?

Maybe she's just a nice person and I've just had a really rough semester, but overall I just get this controlling and condescending vibe from her. Like I'm one of the middle schoolers that she teaches and I know nothing. It just pisses me off, but at the same time I question whether any of this is even justified. I think I need an attitude adjustment, yet I still can't get past it enough to interact with her more than I have to.

no prospects

2010-04-06T19:40:00.003-07:00

I am unemployed for the summer. I am also stuck in Flag for the summer. This is incredibly disappointing on both accounts. The internships I applied to and the resumes I sent have thus far gone without repy. This is also frustrating. How hard is it to send a simple rejection letter?

My mother told me I should go to Oregon and scope it out. The problem there, I have no money. See first sentence. Okay, I actually do have money, but that money has been thoughtfully saved up since I started receiving birthday checks in the mail all the way through my short-lived two years of employment in college. If I blow it on a summer in Oregon I won't be able to eat, drive, or buy the necessary things to live during my last year in college. So that's not really an option for me. I've debated finding a help exchange there. Actually I've done more than debate, I have seriously looked into it and saved possible hosts to a list of favorites. Then I realized that this wouldn't leave much room for exploring the state. Maybe it will still happen if I get desperate enough. However, I would rather get paid. I thought about applying to be a specimen processor here in town. Except I think they want long term workers. That would be bad if I lied and told them I was interested in long term and then quit at the end of the summer right? Bah.

There are just some days when my future looks incredibly bleak. I guess I should just blame this emo post on a bad day and a bad tomorrow and stop spreading around my pessimism.

dumpster diving for birds

2010-04-04T12:49:00.004-07:00

A lot of the food that the numerous animals at ekpaz eat comes from dumpsters. So naturally to get this food volunteers like myself went dumpster diving. Now I have been dumpster diving before, just not for the same reasons. At the end of the school year I always dumpster dive on campus because people throw away the most useful stuff - perfectly good dishes, TVs, vacuum cleaners, laundry baskets, printers - you name it, I bet you could find it. I had never been dumpster diving in Greece though and I had never been dumpster diving for food. I'm fortunate to have never needed to. But at Aegina, dumpster diving was a weekly, sometimes bi-weekly, affair.

On days that we didn't need as much, we would fill the back of the fish car, which incidentally smelt like fish, with jugs of water to be filled at the port. The fish car had been gutted out so there was only a driver's seat and not much more. So we would cram some people in the back with the jugs and off we would go. Yiannis always went but didn't seem to know how to drive so someone else would have to drive. Whenever I went to town it was always a Greek man named Thamos who had bronze curly hair and thick eyebrows that gave him a menacing appearance who was nominated as driver. He drove like any greek, smoking cigarettes with barely one hand on the wheel swerving down the guardrail-free spiraling roads at speeds that made the fish car protest.

Luckily we were so crammed in the back that we didn't even have to stop ourselves from falling over with each quick turn and sharp changes as Thamos changed gears. Yiannis yelled out Greek instructions from the back, presumably places where we needed to go, and Thamos responded by swiftly changing lanes and taking abrupt turns down narrow streets. At our first stop we filled the jugs with water from the port, safe drinking water for the volunteers, and at our second at a dumpster in back of some restaurants where Yiannis jetted out of the car and thrust himself head first into the dumpster, only his sandals visible over the rim of the dumpster. Within minutes he had thrust several bags which guessing by the smell contained food remnants. Yiannis said to us "Rich people. Poor minds. Free food." Three dumpsters later the accuracy in his words were heightened as the fish car had been filled to the top and barely had room for us to squish back in. We weren't done yet though, we next went to some sort of warehouse where Yiannis collected cardboard and strapped it to the roof of the car and proudly told us "Magic car. Load more." Yiannis seemed to find uses for everything we would find, each animal would get something the next day.

At last when the fish car's muffler was almost touching the ground, the trip was announced done and Thamos was directed back up the mountain, well assuming the car could make it. I was pretty convinced that not even halfway up we would either be pushing the car or have to carry everything back up to the center. Yiannis understood me as I voiced this to the other volunteers and said "I used to bike up mountain will all food before car. One time I bike up with 20 kilos sardines." This only impressed me more, Yiannis' commitment was unshakable. We did make it though, the fish car groaned and sputtered, but Thamos shifted at the right times to keep the car moving and with one last smack of the tail pipe on the gate into the center we had returned. Smelling of garbage and fish, we carefully wedged our way out of the car and tossed a euro into the tin can up front for gas money. We then unloaded everything as Yiannis directed us and when the fish car was once again empty, he rushed off with a quick thank you. On the contrary Yiannis, thank you.

never dull on aegina

2010-04-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

Not all the days on the island were rainy, there were a few days of gorgeous weather. Unfortunately as the weather got nicer, more volunteers seemed to be on their way out or would take their once a month day off. I didn't get a day off since I wasn't there long enough so on these days those of use left behind were overwhelmed with work. One day I somehow found myself with the task of cleaning out the room sized freezer below the clinic with Or, a guy from Israel who was more than a head shorter than me. To spend the first warm day on the island in a giant freezer was definitely somebody's idea of a sick joke.

Despite this, the work in the freezer was endlessly entertaining. I'm not sure if it was the slinging around of dozens of three foot long bags full of frozen chicken parts or the discovery of weird donated items, but it became some sort of adventure and became a game of "most interesting thing you can find." The winning prize went to several tubs in the back of the freezer containing what I can only describe as ice cream gone bad. I didn't even think it was possible for this to happen at such frigid temperatures, but I can definitely say that if your ice cream ever transforms into the consistency of paint and develops a thick foamy layer on top, there is something definitely not right about it. How long ago did they even clean out the freezer for this to happen? Or told me that most likely the ice cream kept getting thrown out but Yiannis would go fetch it from the dumpsters and put it back. That man seems to only like food that is months past expiration date. So Or and I threw the ice cream into the rubbish bins where they had no doubt been thrown away several times before.

After discovering the ice cream we moved on to sorting the bags and bags of the latest dumpster diving trips. I can't tell you how much food restaurants throw out, it's sickening. No wonder people recover this stuff, or in our case find most of the animal food this way. Once that was out of the way we washed the giant bins and let them dry in the sunlight and to occupy ourselves we decided to chip away at the wall of ice that had formed in the back. Then we started competing who could get the biggest chunk of ice off in one go. I won. Several times. Still waiting for the bins to be completely dry, Or introduced me to what he called "goat fishing", a sport that will forever be the only sport I could actually see myself doing as a career. If it were possible that is.

Now the rules of goat fishing were incredibly simple. See goat, throw food at goat, hit goat, get points. The food consisted of stale bread and assorted veg, mostly cauliflower and some sort of green kale-like stuff, and hits between the eyes or the horns were worth extra points. By the end of my stay I became a top-scoring goat fisher. Feeding the ducks and the geese was similar except instead of attacking them with food, we chased away the pigeons that Yiannis had not taken in with sprays of water from the hose. I can't tell you how good it felt to not have to pretend to be nice to them for a change.

So by the end of a gorgeous day I had not only managed to learn an entirely new sport, but I had embarked on a frozen excavation dig in search of the back of the freezer and thrown away over ten gallons of rotten ice cream only for Yiannis to find the ice cream in the bins and yell at me later in his broken English "Everything good, keep good. I eat this." How this man claims to have remained illness free, or even diarrhea free, for years is way beyond scientific comprehension.

ekpaz, oh ekpaz

2010-03-31T00:46:00.019-07:00

Work on the island was very different from work in the center. The only similarity was that the animals on the island were just as crazy, if not more so, than the kids back in Athens. Not only was Ekpaz constantly engulfed in a haze of squawks and screeches, but the smell wasn't much better. The worst room was by far the monkey room which also contained pelicans and other large birds. The floor consisted of layers upon layers of rotting cardboard glued together with feces, among mystery substances. I'm not even sure if a floor existed under all that. Inhaling the air made you feel like your lungs were being coated with a thick film of bacteria. I gave up trying to even adapt to the smell and often broke up my shift in how long I could hold my breath before having to step outside.

The clinic wasn't much better, but at least I relished in the fact that here the floors were mopped with bleach at the end of each day and it felt by far more sanitary. Some of the birds were loose from their boxes, free to wander the clinic floors and leave dumpings of shit on everything so we could have something to mop up later. In the clinic work was slow because every cage had to be cleaned, every bird fed (often by hand) and the preparation of much of the food took place here. Buckets of hacked up chicken were carried up from below, some of it rotting, and plates were prepared for each cage. Vegetables from dumpster diving trips were also prepared for the other animals, namely the ferrets, ducks, and goats. The work wasn't hard, but it was disgusting. We went around replacing the old rotting chicken plates with the new, put the old chicken in a bucket and wash the slime off the plates for the next day. Feeding the kids definitely helped prepare me for this, although I can't really say which was worse by the end of the day.

Hacking up the chicken down the hill from the clinic wasn't exactly an improvement, but at least it was outside. It being winter and all, the weather was dismal for a good portion of the time I was there and skinning frozen chickens out in the rain and then chopping them up with a butcher knife named 'John' wasn't exactly a warm delight. After only a minute my hands would become frozen (sometimes to the chicken) followed by pain that seared through my joints with each maneuver from the knife. There was a pelican in the clinic who only ate filets that had to be carefully cut into spaghetti strips, I hated that fucking bird for exactly this reason. The cats would lazily sit on the stoop and pick at loose bits of flesh while I would shoo away the donkeys by brandishing John at them. Smashing cuttlefish bone to add calcium to the meat was the highlight. For me it was anger management therapy and all my disgust went into pulverizing the bones.

However, despite my love for pulverizing cuttlefish bones, the real highlight of my work day was definitely the ferret therapy I got for free. This was my favorite task and one I wish I were assigned to every day. Despite the giant masses of crap I had to scrape out of the cages with only gloves and some newspaper paired with the constant attempts by them to bite me, the ferrets were much friendlier looking than any of the birds and a lot more playful. I mean have you tried playing with vultures or goshawks? It's pretty much useless since your back becomes shitting ground and your scalp the prey. Another exciting task had to be changing the pigeon boxes. Many of them had diseases so sanitizing between boxes was a must. We often joked that Yiannis, the man who started the hospital, was cheating natural selection by saving them all. I was at first cautious with the birds, trying to avoid their pecking beaks and try to move them carefully, but by the end of hour one I had nicknamed them all "you little fucker." The worst part was that the task of cleaning all the boxes took all morning, but by lunchtime the birds had already dumped their food into their water and then shit on it forming a nice thick concoction that would have to be cleaned out the next day. I thought I hated pigeons before, but now I really do hate them.

So I spent the rest of my winter break there, a little more than a week. I lived off the food that had been donated which consisted mostly of expired yogurt (when it's greek yogurt trust me you can't even tell), toasties (what us americans like to call grilled cheese), and chocolate pudding (also technically expired) with the occasional pasta and canned peas with copious amounts of melted cheese on top thrown in the mix. At night we huddled together on the three couches by the TV wrapped in layers of itchy wool blankets watching Coen brother and Stephen King movies with Greek subtitles waiting for our time to use the shower which, yes, spewed hot water. Well, sixty percent of the time. One thing was for certain, life on the island was never dull. Even when it could have been, we always found a way to make things more interesting.

cookie dough thoughts

2010-03-28T23:19:00.004-07:00

I have a lot of problems. I'm not about to deny that fact. However, if someone tells me I have a lot of problems to my face, I like all human beings faced with accusations, will get incredibly defensive and do whatever it takes to convince the world I am normal. Normal in the ways that are acceptable. The contradiction here though is that nothing is truly normal. Normal is defined by how well someone conforms to what their society wants. Say for example you live in America. It is considered "normal" to wipe your privileged butt with toilet paper. Now go to a place like India where normal becomes your left hand and some water. Despite this practice being perfectly normal, much of America views this as taboo. Not only is it viewed as unsanitary, but bathroom practices are not discussed past the age of five.

So in my own defense, I am as normal as I make myself out to be. The main dilemma here is that according to this, a schizophrenic patient is normal as long as it is according to them. So is there something wrong with that? Is it wrong for someone with a mental illness to be considered normal? Surely not if they have been cast out by societies and placed in special facilities. What are the limits on how abnormal someone can be before they are rejected by the limits imposed by society? We are told to embrace who we are, the idea of being yourself is preached and taught in schools, but that's often a huge contradiction. If a child is born with a mental illness that often becomes who they are. There's something incredibly wrong with this because not only are they defined by one sole characteristic caused by an uncontrollable event, but by being who they are often leads to rejection by others who are in return free to express themselves in more "normal" ways.

As long as their normal ways do not extend past mummifying lizards. I can attest that this society does not embrace embalming deceased reptiles, even if the idea was inspired by months of studying Egypt. Being yourself is certainly not as widely accepted as it sounds, it's hard to predict how far the boundaries can be stretched. This really makes me wonder, if there were no limits on normality, what would the world be like? There wouldn't be discrimination because those of a different color, race, sexual orientation, etc. would have been allowed to be themselves from the start. Sure, it won't ever happen since the wheel has been in motion for too long, but it does get me thinking. If society had embraced individuality and the "be yourself" mantra to the extent it claimed to, perhaps the idea of normal just wouldn't matter. So would we be better human beings or would we be blind to suffering and be unable to feel compassion for those persecuted? How many times in history did important events take place spurred by religious persecution? How far does abnormal behavior even extend backwards to make a difference? My head is spinning. I wouldn't have it any other way though, complicated thoughts are good. There aren't enough of them. That's a whole different topic though for another day.

a night of "agioi" new year's

2010-03-27T00:24:00.002-07:00

Now that I have explained the center in incredible detail, imagine being there for New Year's Eve. Not only was it New Year's, but the weather had cleared and so the next day Alice, Megan and I were headed to the island. Dasha had decided to stay behind and experience her own adventure by trying to enter Albania on a Greece only visa, but that's her story and not mine. So it being New Year's along with our last day at the center and all, we decided to kick off the New Year right. And by right I mean with copious amounts of alcohol, which seems to be a unified practice worldwide. To the kids a new year has no meaning (nor does time really) and the activities remained the same. However, once the day with the kids had wrapped up, we had decided to do our own celebrating equipped with a bottle of high quality Russian vodka Dasha had stored in her luggage and some Smirnoff we bought as backup since Dasha and I had taken several shots from her bottle earlier that week during an especially cold night. As Dasha pointed out, alcoholics are not people who drink too much, but people who drink alone. So it was with this thought we brought in the New Year.

Now picture this - two Russian girls and two American girls huddled around a side table in one of the tiny bedrooms in our secluded corner of a mental home giggling while mixing vodka with Fanta and Coke and soaking up some of the alcohol with a dinner that consisted of bread and a nutellalike spread - all the while with the kids and nurses downstairs. There is definitely something wrong but completely humorous about that, although perhaps it's one of those "you just had to be there moments." At one point we ran out of bread and Meghan and Alice claimed to have a little too much New Year cheer to confidently walk down the deadly marble stairs to get more from the kitchen so Dasha and I bravely stepped forward as we were the least affected by our celebrations. Ready for a secret? We totally took the elevator that was only supposed to be used for transporting the kids to the basement. Sometimes it's better to be safe than sorry and never ever should vodka be mixed with Fanta, no matter how high quality the vodka.

agioi anargyroi

2010-03-25T21:36:00.004-07:00

The Center was a pale yellow building with black iron gates and surrounded by sweeping trees. There was a buzzer at the gate and we were escorted through hospital like hallways and odd smelling rooms to the second floor at the end of a long hall where we would stay. Another girl was already there, Meghan from Chicago, she hadn't signed up for the island and was a psychology major at some private college somewhere. Meghan and I took the end room and the Russians took the one next to it, all the back rooms connected by a broad patio. The director who headed the foundation greeted us shortly after with chocolates and some of the kindest words I have ever received. She couldn't even explain how amazed all the other parents were that we had voluntarily given up our Christmases to spend time with their kids. This eased my nervousness a little bit, but in the end I knew that I was still going to have to work with them.

My first day at the Center was filled with unease and was incredibly uncomfortable, although meeting and talking with the psychologists was helpful. They were two women, Gina and Irina, and they told us that we could only do good when it came to the kids. Then we were off to the many rooms where the kids spent most of their time. We discovered that the kids were not kids at all but adults from 20 and up. All of the nurses and the parents who founded the center still called them kids though because most of them had IQs so low that they couldn't speak and acted very much like children. There was only one little boy who I would guess was 4 or 5 who like some of the others had down-syndrome. Many of the kids had a myriad of problems, ranging from OCD to schizophrenia, autism, bipolar disorder, epilepsy, or suffered from brain defects that resulted from birth. I had no idea how my being there was going to make any difference, but Gina's assurances that we couldn't do any damage was calming.

The kids were separated based on what I guess you could call their level of difficulty. The first room we visited was the worst case by far. These were the ones who screamed, threw temper tantrums, there was one boy who sat in the corner and chewed on a blanket while he rocked back and forth, some of them were restrained by sheets to chairs, it was chaos. The second room was not as chaotic and contained kids who sat around a table watching TV or just staring into nothing. The third was the most crowded, but better behaved than the first and many of the kids were just walking around. Gina and Irina had us lead many of the kids out of this room to the dining area which was in the basement with the kitchen. Irina and a few nurses stayed with the kids as Gina led us to the last room which I didn't get a good glimpse at because she just pulled some of them out and we escorted those to the dining room as well. I have to admit that feeding the kids took a lot of getting used to and the first day made me queasy.

The basement area had a weird smell that I couldn't pin point and it wasn't appetizing at all. The kids drooled and spit food up and many of them had to have bibs put on. As volunteers our job was to go around and fill up their empty water cups and make sure that those who needed medication had it mixed in with their food - in fact I remember one of the kids who was known to dig through his food to find the pills had to have his crushed up. The food was never anything that required a knife or a fork but could be eaten with only a spoon so it was often a type of pasta or rice dish, or something mashed up. After we had led them back to their respective rooms it was our turn to eat which turned out to be exactly what the kids ate except we were granted proper silverware and endless bottles of Fanta and bread. Until the last day or so this was definitely hard to stomach as the texture of the food was often mushy not to mention after having to watch the kids beforehand killed much of my appetite. The first meal was the hardest and I only ate bread and drank water. I got used to it somehow, but going on afternoon trips into the city and buying pastries or street kabobs definitely made it better.

Aside from meal time we were only needed one other time and that was when we brought some of them kids to the activity room. The activity room was easy for me compared to meal time. We colored with the kids, danced with them, watched black and white Greek films, or just sat with those that didn't want to do anything. It was also where I learned that each and everyone of them had unique quirks and I began to learn their names with Gina's help.

Lily hardly ever danced, voiced her opinions in the form of yelling or making throat noises, was constantly tapping her fingers, and was a pincher. The first day she gave me a bruise and after that I became a pro at avoiding her swift fingers. Another boy who was in a wheelchair was also a pincher, but laughed like you wouldn't believe. Alexis was huge, definitely over six feet, threw an occasional temper tantrum but you knew they were coming because he would stop smiling, and always wanted to dance (well sway back and forth really). He was one of my favorites. Despoina couldn't talk and was attached by the hip to a girl whose name I've forgotten. She always had her fingers in her mouth and made popping noises. The girl was one of the kids who could speak and I learned later that she had once asked me about my love life, she was also very attached to always holding hands. Nikos was also one of my favorites because he wouldn't leave a room until he made sure everyone else had left, he didn't like being touched much, but he smiled often and despite the lack of communication, was incredibly nice to us.

Christos was a perv (seriously) and definitely had a one-track mind around women since he was always trying to get us to touch his crotch. Despite this, he was incredibly fun to be around since he was more capable of learning, he always smiled, and I taught him hand clapping games, he also saluted everyone he saw and we quickly learned that once you saluted him back he would never stop. Jacques was one of the oldest kids and spoke French and Greek so I often spoke a little French to him if he was in the right mood, he was also a very skilled piano player however it often came in short bursts and could never be forced. Maria loved to take things, she would try to steal my jacket, my watch, hair ties, if she saw it she wanted it so I often had to hide everything from her. Petros was OCD and autistic and the director's son. He would fix crooked photos, sweep crumbs off of the tables, and he drank more water than any of the others. We would fill up his cup and he would down it, run to the corner and rock back and forth while counting, and wait for us to refill it, when he had enough (always 14 glasses) he would make frantic head movements and leave the room.

Now come those whose names I have forgotten. There was one who was probably the most intelligent of them all and she acted very motherly. She would direct the kids around and often mimicked the behavior of the nurses, she was very respectful towards the volunteers as well. Then there was a girl who had one of the lowest IQs, but became my shadow. I learned that the best approach with her was to smile all the time because then she would return the favor with a big toothless grin, her idea of dancing was stomping her feet excitedly and she was also a hand holder. Her other half (we called him her boyfriend because they always wanted to be together) was a boy who also had a few missing teeth and also smiled often, he always wore a striped shirt and never danced but refused to let go of anyone's hand as well. Another boy who I remember having a really unusual name had some form of epilepsy along with his other problems and was a drooler whose dance moves would send spit flying, I learned later that he hit his head once and had to get stitches. Another boy who had very exaggerated facial features was always trying to escape by throwing his belongings outside and then trying to fetch them, from our room we could see all the odd things he had tossed out the window. He was constantly trying to get us to take him outside for walks and he was constantly escaping the activity room and going onto the patio and we had to often catch him and bring him back inside. The last one that I remember was another boy who became Dasha's favorite. He had two looks - smiling and a look of utter confusion - and never seemed to blink. Sometimes he played hand-clapping games, but only for short periods of time. He loved to point at everything - wall decorations, people, and the ceiling were some of his favorites - and he always tried to take control in the activity room by changing the radio station. There were definitely more of them, but those are the ones that I remember the best, I wish I could have remembered all their names.

Needless to say, that by the end of the short time I had spent there I learned a whole lot about the mentally ill and realized that many of them were not to be feared. I can also say that this experience and having to deal with such an uncomfortable situation has definitely changed me for the better, cheesy and predictable as that is, it's completely true. It was also one of those experiences that I'm not sure I would repeat willingly.

take me back to kantza station

2010-03-22T03:01:00.002-07:00

When I first signed up to volunteer in Greece it was at the Ekpaz Wildlife Center on an island, sounds kind of perfect right? The island part alone is desirable. However, due to poor weather the ferries were cancelled. When this happened I was told that it is perfectly normal for the captains to decide suddenly that they don't feel like operating in a little rain and on the other end of the spectrum, that in very hot weather, they will cancel to go fishing. While I can't prove anything about the latter, I can definitely back up the no boats on rainy days. So I was informed that instead I would be helping out at a center for mentally disabled kids. Umm what? My first thoughts were definitely on the wary side, I mean birds are one thing, but kids? I don't really do well with kids let alone those with such special needs as these. Not to mention, I didn't speak a word of Greek so how much help could I really be? Here's the thing though, sometimes things just don't work out, that's a fact of life. So I decided to just get the next couple days over with so I could be on my way to the island once the weather cleared.

I was instructed via email to take the metro several miles outside of Athens to Kantza-Pallini station and call the coordinator whose name was Kostas and he would arrange for someone to pick me up. The major problem there, I had no cell phone and no phone card. So I promptly found a tobacco kiosk and purchased a 5 Euro phone card hoping that a phone would be somewhere near the station. To make sure I took the right line, I looked at a metro map only to realize that there was both a Kantza station and a Pallini station but not a Kantza-Pallini station. I figured, what the hell, I'll just go to Pallini station, find a phone and call this Kostas guy, if it's the wrong one I'll just take the metro one station more. Only problem, pay phones are ridiculously abundant in the center of Athens, but not so much in the middle of freaking nowhere. So I did what I do best, I wandered in search of a phone and failed to find both a phone or someone who spoke a word of English. So then I bought a chocolate pastry to calm myself and rein in the reasoning, and I decided to go back to the station and take the metro a couple more stops to the airport where I knew there would be phones.

At the airport I found not just one pay phone, but a whole row and ten different pay phones later, I found either one that worked or I finally used the card right. I was greeted by a male voice who clarified that I needed to go to Kantza station and in half an hour someone would be there to pick me up. So that's exactly where I went and stood outside the station in the cold rain hoping that with a bit of luck someone would be there soon. Luck, ha!

After only a few minutes I was approached by a blonde girl who asked if I was a volunteer, relieved I told her yes, and she clarified that she too was a volunteer. She introduced herself as Daria who preferred being called Dasha. She hailed from Russia, was a lover of vodka and communism, and was also disappointed by the recent change in work as she too was originally headed to the island. Daria soon became one of the funniest, most sporadic people I have ever met. We waited in the cold rain and made jokes about the Greeks for their silly ferry cancellations and constant tardiness while she asked if I respected Russian vodka (as if I would tell a Russian anything else but yes). Half an hour later we were joined by another Russian girl, Alice. She worked at the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Moscow but her true passion was anything archeology so naturally Greece fit her interests. Alice had already done several incredibly fascinating volunteer projects world wide and in my opinion was way too intelligent to be working at a hotel.

We waited along for yet another good forty minutes getting colder and wetter before a compact yellow car pulled up. Out hopped a woman with hair dyed the color of red wine and who quickly tossed our things in the trunk and urged us in the car. The doors were barely closed before she had hit the gas peddle, pulled a sharp U-turn, and raced back the way she had come. Yet another thing about the Greeks, they love to drive fast and there is no such thing as a speed limit, not even the size of the car is a limiting factor. Just something to keep in mind if a Greek ever offers you a ride. I also feel like I should point out that after waiting for over an hour to be picked up, the center was only a 15 minute walk away from the station.

insomniatic recollections: athens

2010-03-20T04:13:00.008-07:00

Planning my trip to Greece was one huge nerve racking experience. For those who have read my blog long enough, they will recall that I went to Greece during a time that wasn't the most stable. Not that it is stable now by any means, but needless to say, a lot of people thought I was stupid and reckless by going there when I did. As if I can predict future events right? Not even checking Google news every other minute could change things.

A young boy had been shot spurring riots, strikes, burning Christmas trees, the Greek people were not happy. Go anarachy! I was also going alone, although I knew once I got into the volunteering part that would change. The government told me not to go, my mother worried my flights would be cancelled due to strikes, friends made cracks about joining the rioters, but I refused to back down. I had spent way too many hours making Greek alphabet flashcards, and man am I serious about my flashcards! No really though, I think I'm just too stubborn and frugal (cancelled plane ticket, I don't think so). So a couple days before Christmas straight from London, there I was, wandering the cobbled streets of Greece that had been recently marred by anarchy signs, touched by fire, and shattered by rocks. However, despite the damage, it appeared that the riots had been overly exaggerated by the media. Wait, the media exaggerating things? Shocker.

I stayed at a hostel for the first couple nights until the day after Christmas when my work would begin where I drank ouzo with the bartender, played gin rummy with two Scottish girls, and listened to a really stupid boy from Chicago explain a horribly gone wrong drunken night. In London I had jacked up something in my knee, a result from all the walking on uneven surfaces no doubt, but that didn't stop me from walking extensively around and around the Acropolis. Athens isn't like London, in Athens it is impossible to be truly lost because the Acropolis is at the center on a giant hill. Instant point of reference for the lost traveler, yay landmarks. Which was needed considering that even with knowing the Greek alphabet, the signs were still... well in Greek.

So I wandered, only spending money on pastries and souvlaki with heaps of tzatziki sold from kiosks. I wandered past illegal street vendors who were seen grabbing their goods and running from police, past women in stilettos arms full of shopping bags walking down uneven streets without stumbling, kids buying slices of coconut and roasted chestnuts in the streets, Christmas festivities and men singing and playing reggae music, if there was a feeling of unease from the rioters I didn't feel it. I was offered umbrellas and lotto tickets, I was harassed by a man who shoved bird seed in my hand to attract crowds of pigeons so he could try and charge me five euro for a photo (I threw the bird seed back at him and ran away... I really hate pigeons). I shoved my way through crowds and pet stray dogs and then allowed said stray dogs to follow me and make me feel safe, I was absorbing the culture by the bucket load. I was constantly in awe, not just by the sheer number of people filling the streets, but by the tiny stone churches smashed right up against buildings, excavation sites in the metro stations, columns right across from busy marketplaces, yet the Greeks just walked on by accustomed to it. I was the girl who stood stupidly in awe of all these things causing a road block to those passing.

On Christmas Eve I went to a very late dinner with complete strangers and we ended up at one of the many family owned restaurants at 10:30 at night eating Moussaka and drinking ydromeli (a type of mead) while being given free lamb kabobs and some sort of spiced gelatin dessert by the all too generous owner. Christmas day I had agreed to help the hostel throw a huge Christmas dinner/lunch in exchange for a free meal and Christmas morning found me chopping beets the size of soft balls and celery longer than my forearm, afternoon drinking hooch and swapping stories, and evening climbing up what used to be an execution rock to view the city at night.

Overall I found Greece more carefree than bustling London. I blame the siestas which became part of my daily life. The shops would close for a few hours, the streets would become quiet, I would take afternoon naps by the open balcony - I was convinced that siestas should be part of every culture. The only real problem I had with Athens was that no matter where you went, restaurant owners and shop keepers would hustle you on the street, following you for several feet trying to persuade you to buy something or eat at their restaurant. "No thank you" never satisfied them and after a while I just gave up and ignored them. I also had major problems with what they called a shower. I define a shower as a closed in space that dispenses hot water. The Greeks seemed to define shower as a shallow square of plastic only a couple inches high without walls or curtains and a shower head you have to hold constantly. Getting the water to stay inside the shallow bit of plastic was hard enough let alone being able to wash yourself properly. A sponge bath would have been more efficient. Perhaps I just encountered an unusual breed of showers while in Greece and they aren't all really like that. I digress though. There will always be things like that, those cultural differences, that make places so unique and worth visiting. Most important lesson, there is no good and bad, just different. Perspective is everything.

travel revisited: london

2010-03-18T01:34:00.004-07:00

As much as I hate to categorize my blog under any sort of topic other than random, for the next... well whenever this slur of posts comes to an end, I am going to talk travel. I've realized that this is a passion of mine and that this is something I can write about with an open mind and lately of more importance, with optimism. Not to mention that looking through all my photos has spurred some nostalgia in me. I also feel that through all my excursions, my blog has failed to be that place where I write about these things. So I'm not saying all my posts will be like this one, I'm sure I will slip in an occasional story from present times, but at least my readers have been informed of what is likely to be several well thought out, long travel posts that have been building in my mind since I returned from my first trip more than a year ago. You've been warned and I won't be insulted if you don't read them.

I'll start at the beginning because that's always a logical place to start, unless of course you're Tarantino whom I am not. For me the beginning wasn't the 10 day trip I took to France in 10th grade to meet up with my grandmother (although I do have some funny stories from that...) It was actually my very first trip alone. Not just my first trip overseas alone, I really do mean my very first trip alone. Which also happened to be overseas. I approached this trip with such spontaneity and lack of fear that my older self is amazed at how quickly I jumped into it. I blame all the years I was forced to take part in family vacations which always ended in my mother telling us what to do and me, my dad, and my brothers doing the exact opposite. Where was I again? I had looked extensively into volunteer work and once I saw there were opportunities in Greece, I couldn't help my wandering mind, not to mention tzatziki is delicious. So I booked not just one round-trip ticket, but two. Encouraged by my mother and by the same cost as a single ticket, I decided to stay three days in London before heading to Greece.

When I arrived in London I had no preconceived notions about it. A lot of people think of the history, of fashion, of architecture, of something that has importance - whatever it is that happens to be associated with London. My only notions came from Charles Dickens, Harry Potter or Roald Dahl. Any thoughts of London were automatically tied to stories, complete fantasies and therefore completely untrue. Magic, chocolate, Christmas-loathing old guys who insult crippled boys - nonetheless sounds like my kind of adventure. I didn't see despair when I looked at the crumbling buildings, but admired them. Places in Arizona just don't look like that. I felt like I had stepped off a page and entered some sort of rich fantasy or stepped back in time. How often do you feel that? Not enough here that's for sure.

That is why I fell in love with London the first time I ventured there. I think a lot of it was also because it was, as I stated before, my very first trip alone (and the chocolate, that may have factored in some). The only agenda I had was my own and it was packed. Every day I walked from before sun up to sun down, if not later. I ate in parks watching old ladies feed squirrels and got helplessly lost without maps trying to find churches and buildings of importance. I sat by fountains surrounded by pigeons and watched street performers or kids climb on statues all the while marveling at the sheer size of the buildings and arches. All of which was fully encouraged by the unusually sunny winter days. My jet lag had made me conveniently tired by 7pm and woke me bright and early at 5am, giving me ample time for more than a day's worth of adventures. I'm pretty sure the people at the hostel hated me for waking up that early, those rude Americans. I hate to use such cliche phrases, but the world really was my oyster and I didn't really give a fuck. Except in this case it was not some fortune I was seeking, but the rich thrill of wandering into unknown places.

I remember being lost almost by the hour, but I was never bothered by it. Each street contained more crumbling buildings or quaint neighborhoods and I experienced the sort of deserted side of London that not many people witness because I wandered into side streets and away from main roads. North was south and streets wrapped in circles, but up was still up so there was always hope. There was only one time when I was actually afraid of London and that was my own doing. I had been trying to seek the London Eye, a massive ferris wheel that may be touristy, but is well worth the money. I had been wandering and while I could see the London Eye, I just couldn't figure out how to bypass the buildings and reach it. That is when I decided to enter an underpass beneath a sketchy part of the underground.

It wasn't smart, it wasn't even necessary, but for some reason my feet felt the need to walk that tunnel. So I did. Yeah, I know really smart, good thing you don't read this mom. The tunnel housed several of London's many graffiti artists and even more of its inebriated bums and I had many internal freak outs the entire way. I don't do well with strangers, seriously I have this phobia of being followed so needless to say I walked quickly. However, upon reaching the end of the tunnel I found it to be blocked by orange construction fencing and cones. I had several thoughts of trying to crawl under or somehow rip through the blockade but that seemed to have "this is not a good idea" written all over it (yes, more so than the tunnel). So, without any other choices aside from miraculously sprouting wings, I backtracked through the spray painted fumes and men surrounded by empty bottles and reached the point of entry, safe. I know that something bad could have happened, lone female plus creepy tunnel is right out of an episode of CSI, but I guess sometimes you can't dwell on that. You just have to admit, yeah I was pretty stupid that day. So to end this tale, I made it to the London Eye on my last night for what were some truly spectacular views of London at dusk.

That isn't really London in a nutshell, in fact it's hardly scraping the meaty surface, but the details of every place I went isn't really what London was for me. For me it was what first inspired every trip that has since taken place. It made me realize that I had to see more of anything, do more courageous yet stupid things, and that any lack of money will only stop the undetermined from seeing the world. That my friends is what I have decided defines a vacationer versus a traveler.

denny's

2010-03-16T01:38:00.002-07:00

The third time is the charm. Maybe. I pulled up to a site all too familiar. The parking lot was once again empty, the streetlights casting their familiar sodium orange glow, and the faint smell of grease in the air. My sleepless nights had once again brought me to one of the few places in this town that is open 24 hours a day where you can sit down unbothered. Welcome to Denny's, full-service family restaurant chain since 1953.

Without hesitation this time, I get out of the car hearing only the clicking as I lock my car and head under the glowing red of the sign, through the swinging doors and into the warmth of the familiar atmosphere. Linda is there again. Her name isn't really Linda but anonymity is nice sometimes. Her and I seem to have come to an silent agreement to avoid discussing why I am there alone or anything else about me that may explain why I have been there for the past two nights in a row. I sit down at the same table I did the first night and order the same thing, coffee and an english muffin. She doesn't even scratch down the order this time as she heads to the kitchen.

I look around for the first time tonight to see an older man in the corner flipping through a magazine with half a sandwich in his hand. He's too preoccupied to notice me. Unlike last night he seems to be the only other customer. I prefer him to the rowdy high school group the night before slurping milkshakes and tossing greasy fries at one another. Swearing as if 'fuck' and 'cunt' were a meaningful parts of a conversation. Tonight is the complete opposite. This is how I like my silence, undisrupted.

Linda has returned setting down my cup of coffee accompanied with only a few words required as part of her job description. She leaves me as I tear open a sugar packet and stir in a small container of cream. The coffee isn't exactly french pressed and can range anywhere from "it'll do" to "absolutely awful" and tonight it's better than the past two nights. Perhaps Linda saw me wince last night when I took my first sip and started a new pot this time. Or maybe I'm just getting used to it. Minutes slip past as I stare into nothing. Do you ever have that feeling where just the act of staring feels so good? Not looking, not focusing, not even thinking, but just letting eyes become glazed over and dead looking.

I slide out of my trance and look back up as Linda slides my muffin towards me and asks if I need anything else. She knows I don't, but it never hurts to ask just in case I decide to order something that will guarantee her more than a dollar tip. I shake my head and mutter a 'no thanks' before she's off again, back to the kitchen or to wait by the door hoping for more satisfying business. The man in the corner clears his throat as he flips another page. The shadowed and evasive face of Tom Hanks stares sideways off the cover of the TIME magazine in the man's hands. History maker.

I meticulously scrape butter and jam onto my muffin before taking a bite. Unlike the coffee it's pretty hard to mess up something so simplistic like an english muffin. With only the occasional sound of the magazine flipping or the scraping as a cup is raised or Linda's shoes on the tile I eat my muffin and watch my reflection gazing outside into the darkness. Aside from the occasional vehicle, Milton is barren and quiet. That's how I like it best, just a wide strip of smooth tar reaching forward towards the changing of the traffic lights.

Linda brings me my check, but I already have the money sitting on the table to pay her. I sit for a few more moments enjoying the fluorescent lighting and more importantly the warmth and calm this place brings me. I glance at my watch out of habit, 12:43. Not the optimum time to drive through downtown because the bars are starting to close, but it's also a Monday night so I'll take my chances and take the long way home. I grab my keys from the table and as they smack together like disgruntled wind chimes the man in the corner looks up briefly from his magazine acknowledging for the first time that someone else is actually awake during this time. I give him a small smile trying to communicate some sort of ambiguous understanding before heading out the door.

My car seats have lost their warmth and I crank the heat on full before starting out of the parking lot and slowly making my way down the empty stretch of road. The usual slur of radio music pours out from my speakers. I feel the car warming up as the heat blasts my chilled face and hands. I like this kind of warmth the best, windows fogged up from the icy air outside, dry heat warming me up until I can't take it anymore and have to switch it off. It's just me and the world, or at least a small part of the world, cruising down 66 glancing occasionally up at the clear sky through my moonroof. No moon tonight either - there's always tomorrow though. It has to return eventually.

for the non-go-getters

2010-03-14T10:49:00.003-07:00

My mother woke me up this morning. Guaranteed it was 10:30 which isn't exactly early or anything. If I were me last spring break I wouldn't have cared one bit. Except this year I'm an insomniac with a rough sleeping schedule that puts me to bed at 2am so I can wake up at 5am and toss for a couple hours then go back to bed at 7am. So for me waking up anytime before 11 without the need to be anywhere just doesn't happen.

But she woke me up anyways. Her overly enthusiastic voice bounding into my room and going on about bald eagles. I shrugged off the idea of dragging myself into the realm of the living to view nature. I like nature, but not with the sleep still in my eyes and my dreams still filtering out of my mind. She went on about this being a "once in a lifetime" thing and then proceeded to ask how to use my camera before taking off again to capture this rare scene.

Sure, maybe I missed an opportunity, maybe I won't ever have the chance to witness a bald eagle in modern suburbia again. But life is full of missed opportunities and being in the right place at the right time, and this time I just didn't feel like making things happen in my favor.

What an uninspiring human being I am sometimes.

new lows

2010-03-05T01:17:00.007-07:00

I can't put into words how I've been feeling lately. Trust me, I have tried too. I always end up back where I started though - looking at a blinking cursor and wondering, how do I explain this feeling? It's one of those feelings that can't really be understood, it's just there all the time wreaking havoc on my thoughts, making me feel rotten and isolated.

My eyes hurt from staring mindlessly into the non-horizon of my door and my head aches from the hours spent tossing and sleepless. My blood feels either very thin or very thick, too much so to reach my heart and adequately keep me feeling healthy. It's like everything is going in slow motion and every minute I spend conscious I'm miserable. How did I end up like this? So incredibly bitter and so incredibly numb? It's like I'm watching the world from afar and no matter how hard I try, I just can't get myself to feel alive and part of it.

Everything hurts and everything remains stupid. Stupid is such an inadequate word for how I feel about things, but it's all my mind can think. How did I accumulate so much anger and resentment? I've gotten used to being weird, being different and cruel, using sarcasm as a tool to keep my distance, but I'm just now getting used to such unhappiness as a side effect.

Why am I like this? I can't help but plead with myself to find something, anything to be happy for. Just find myself again, whoever that is, and hold onto her. Find a passion or some reason to get out of bed every morning other than "I have to." Maybe it's time I go home for awhile, go to a place where I feel heard, feel like I mean something. Sit in a house full of ghosts and play cards. I miss the comfort of playing cards, perhaps they will bring some feelings back. At least that's what I want. I need to feel like I haven't just become some sort of mundane shadow without worth or purpose.

Until then, this blogger is out of things to say.

go pester someone else

2010-03-04T13:52:00.000-07:00

How many times do you have to reject someone's friend request on facebook before they get the message? I'm onto rejection number four from someone who went to my high school who I barely know. I took Creative Writing with her when I was a senior. She was definitely a couple grades under me and I don't recall ever going out of my way to be nice to her or even really talk to her. Just another classmate in a class I took as an elective. So it's been three years or more, I'm in college, I have no idea who she is really or where she is. Yet for some reason she seems hell bent on being my facebook friend. I don't get it.

passive

2010-03-02T00:51:00.000-07:00

Last Friday a bunch of my dorm gang went to Ruby Tuesday's because it was Kristen's birthday and then afterward we wandered the mall and I just couldn't help having flashbacks to highschool. Didn't I do pretty much this exact same thing three years ago? Piled into the very same booth seats that I occupied senior year, discussing topics of equal unimportance, it's the exact same. So much for progress. I'm in the same location I was in high school except with different people. How uninspiring. How can so much time have passed and yet things feel completely stagnant? I guess life is like that.

didn't make the cut

2010-03-01T00:26:00.002-07:00

Sometimes it's hard to go with the optimistic and happy when it's been raining shit for weeks.