40 Days of 4 Things, Day 6

I'm starting to actually like this initiative I've taken on.  In some ways it makes me feel so connected to my life.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but sometimes over the course of a couple of hours I've already forgotten the things I've done that day.  It's nice being able to sit for a moment and think about everything I said and everything that was said to me.  Speaking of things I've said, I've been thinking about all the ridiculous things I've said in my life.  Honestly now that I think about it, there wouldn't be enough room to write all of the offensive, over the top, ridiculous things I've said.  So instead here are the four most offensive and ridiculous things I've said this week:

To a girl I barely know who insisted on showing me pictures of her frankly hideous child:
Her: "He's so cute, isn't he cute?"
Me: "Yeah, he's cute"
Her: "Aww...thank you."
Me: "You actually made me say that."

To the manager of the store I work at when for some reason I didn't get paid for my sick day:
Him: "Sorry"
Me: "Yeah, well if I can't pay my meth dealer this week, it's really your fault."
(Sidebar: I've now heard a rumor that everyone has to submit to drug testing)

To a friend of mine talking about these hot dogs she ate at the Mardi Gras carnival:
Her: "Yeah, they're like famous for their foot long wieners"
Me: "So am I"
(This one's actually not offensive, it's just such a dude joke to make that I can't believe I said it.)

During my biology class that I share with the gayest person I know (also one of my best friends) of mine when we were talking about a group of children born in Haiti that are not born with one specific gender. And although I can't find anything on Google about it, apparently they are just treated as girls until they hit puberty when they may or may not become men:
Professor: "And when they hit puberty they sometimes begin to show signs of being male, and suddenly a penis emerges"
Me: "See (Son Tran)? There is hope that you might not be a woman after all."
(I should note that after this exchange he told me to "suck it")

40 Days of 4 Things, Day 5

The four things I should be doing instead of blogging, but instead I am not doing so that I can keep this promise to myself.

1. Writing about the movements of realism, regionalism, naturalism, and modernism, in The Awakening, The Custom of the Country, or The Sun Also Rises; for my midterm.
2. Studying about cells and mitosis for my Biology midterm occurring in three days.
3. I should try to go to the gym because I'm suddenly very aware how fat I feel.
4. I should try to illegally download a copy of Rosetta Stone so that I might begin to learn German for my trip next year.

40 Days of 4 Things, Day 4

The point of my 4 Things series is that I am supposed to list four things that have happened to me over the course of the day, or the week, or the month.  Sadly, I would be hard pressed to think of four distinct things that happened to me today.  It was completely awful.  I ate Subway twice in one day.  I watched more than six hours of pointless television.  So instead of doing that, so as to keep up my promise to myself I will instead list things in four.  Maybe I'll even write four separate lists.  We'll see how it goes.

The four most played songs in my iTunes
1. Little Lies by Dave Barnes
2. I Wanna be your Lover by Prince
3. The One That Got Away by Katy Perry
4. Valerie by Amy Winehouse

The four most played songs from the new Britney Spears album Femme Fatale that leaked yesterday
1. Criminal by Britney Spears
2. Trouble For Me by Britney Spears
3. How I Roll by Britney Spears
4. I Wanna Go by Britney Spears

The four things I've been watching
1. The entire Indiana Jones series
2. Rewatching the first season of Big Love
3. Chelsea Lately/After Lately
4. Countless stand up specials on Comedy Central

The four things I've been meaning to read
1.  The last seven or eight issues of Men's Health, GQ, Details, and Popular Science that have accumulated on my desk.
2. Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Closterman
3. It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini
4. Tales of the Madman Underground by John Barnes

40 Days of 4 Things, Day 3

I knew that some days over the course of this experiment would be harder than others.  Not everything I do everyday is worth writing about.  I mean don't get me wrong, you'd be fascinated to hear it if I wrote about it, but I just don't think you need to hear about my daily trips to the grocery store, or how many cigarettes I smoke in a day (read: a lot).  You don't need to hear about where I go to lunch every day, or the intricacies of every conversation I have.  Though, there are some things I do every single day without fail.  I'm not saying that these things are interesting because they certainly are not for the most part.  Though, I've always been one for routine.  Here are the four things I do every day (or most days).

On weekdays I go to class

I know I'm probably not the only one who feels this way but I like the idea of going to school a whole lot more than the actual act of doing it.  I am not one for sitting still for hours at a time.  In fact it's killing me to sit still long enough to write this post.  I like to keep moving, to keep doing.  I do not like sitting and listening.  Though not all of my class are lectures, some of them are even worse, those conversation classes. I do not enjoy those classes where Dr. Professor KnowsTooMuch expects the entire class to join in.  I hate that idea.  If I wanted to be taught by someone other than the professor, I would have paid them instead of the university, thank you.  Though there are classes that I do enjoy, mostly the ones directly associated with my degree program.  I love my Mass Communication classes.  I like the group feeling of it all, taking most of my classes with the same group of people.  I like my professors, and actually feel like I'm friends with most of them even though I know that's weird.  Those classes remind me of high school  And though, for the most part I hated high school (I wasn't nearly as amazing back then) I like that feeling of familiar faces and shared mentality.  I also like school because I like being able to skip it. 

Some days I go to work


I always thought that at the age of twenty four I would have a more sophisticated career path than the one I am currently on.  Well, to be honest I never actually thought about having a job, but I knew it would be different than this.  I guess I thought I'd be done with school by now, but I should have known better.  I have never been the one to finish first, or blaze a trail.  I am not a fire starter, I am not the quickest.  I guess that's why at twenty four I work in retail at a well known drugstore.  I print people's naked pictures for a living.  I say that last sentence to be funny, but also because it's completely true.  I wish it were a little less bleak than this.  I just keep thinking that soon, in the looming near future I will have a job I can be proud of.  Or at the very least I'll have my own desk.  Or maybe I'll share a desk with someone else, I really don't know the specifics of office work.  Someday I will wear a suit, and maybe carry a briefcase.  I will have work contacts in my phone, and a favorite lunch place.  I just know that it will be good.  Or at the very least better than this.

I do things for myself everyday

I attempt to better myself a little bit more every day.  I might not be the smartest, or the most talented, or the nicest, but I like to play to my strengths.  I think I'm funny but want to be funnier so I make it my business to stay informed on pop culture and politics, so as to stay topical.  I like to sing, so I sing scales and runs in my car over and over again.  I like to cook so I watch far too many episodes of Barefoot Contessa and spend a ridiculous amount of money trying to cook like she does.  I like to be well read, so I read everything I come in contact with.  I spend a lot of time being selfish, doing things that only benefit me.  I know I should be contributing something to society instead of only trying to better myself.  I know I should volunteer more, or donate more.  But honestly, I've got a lot on my plate right now and just don't have that kind of time.  The malnourished and impoverished should be more sensitive to my feelings.

Everyday I live in a fantasy world

I know that everyone is prone to day dreaming.  I think I take it to a new level, an art form if you will.  I have a very active imagination, in fact it's all consuming.  I dream all day long, about nothing in particular really.  Sometimes I dream of things being better, brighter, more glamorous.  Sometimes I dream of things being the same but different.  I think of reversing decisions, I think of how things could have been different.  I dream of having my act together.  I dream of being renowned, respected.  I dream of being different than this.

40 Days of 4 Things, Day 2

This week things on TV have pissed me off

Let me preface this by saying that I usually don't watch a lot of television.  It's not that I think I'm too good for programming tailor made for the masses or anything, I just usually don't have time to devote to it.  In the past couple of  weeks all of that has changed and I find myself unable to pull myself away from it.  I still hate commercials apparently.  

Mostly in specific I hate this commercial for Hot Pockets smaller counterpart Side Shots.  First of all, I find it highly offensive when foodstuff is humanized.  As if I believe that these lumps of dough filled with undercooked meats and sauces can have human emotions.  Also, when you give a frozen delicacy a face, it makes me think of cannibalism, and I just can't condone that kind of behavior.



Also because it reminds me of Meat Cat who is way more awesome:


Has anyone else seen the trailer for "Hop" starring James Marsden and apparently the Easter Bunny?  First of all, no.  Absolutely not, this should not be happening.  First of all I believe I made it mandatory for all Holiday movies to stop after the "Santa Clause 2" premiered.  Second of all, do we really need an Easter movie other than "The Ten Commandments", even I'll admit I've never actually seen that one, but it seems to be very popular.  I do not need a cutesy animated movie where the protagonist has jelly beans for excrement.  I just don't.



Today I was supposed to meet a Buddhist monk

Today in my Intercultural Media class we were supposed to have a guest lecture by a Buddhist monk, and I was super excited about going.  I really was, and I almost never get excited about meeting spiritual leaders, or going to class period.  Sadly this morning I woke up feeling the worst I have in almost forever.  In fact, I'm still pretty certain that I am dying, or at least very close to dying.  So, I did not go to class, but instead because I make bad decisions I went out for sushi with some friends (to be fair the lecture was optional).  The sushi was amazing, but sadly did not help my illness.  I should have gone to class, I might have learned something.  I wanted to learn something.  On my quest for spiritual enlightenment (which is a quest I've just decided I've embarked on), it may have been helpful.  I know that Bhuddism is all about being present in your every day life, and living for the exact moment that you are breathing through right now.  That's a lesson I could stand to learn.

Today I missed my friend

My friend lives too far away.  There is not a day when I do not wish he still lived across the street so that I could go outside and talk mindlessly for hours with him.  That will more than likely never happen again, but it's comforting to think about.  It is hard to stay connected with someone when there's so much distance.  Life gets in the way, time gets in the way, priorities get in the way.  I don't always get to call, I don't always get to fly to Cleveland to see him.  Today our friendship felt a  lot closer to home because he found an interesting way for us to be able to feel like no space separates us.  I won't give too much away, but thank you Bryant for making my day a little more awesome.  You are better than a monk.

Today I did not do what I intended

Things I intended on doing, but for some reason or other did not
1.  Did not meet Bhuddist monk

2.  Did not start reading "As I lay dying" by Ernest Hemingway

3. Did not go to work

4. Did not go to the gym

Things I did instead:
1. Bought twenty dollars worth of raffle tickets

2. Bought fifteen dollars worth of fruit, including kiwis which I don't even like

3. Spent two hours mentally listing my favorite female celebrities in levels of attractiveness

4.  Illegally downloaded a seven hundred dollar program (InDesign) for school

I am not proud of myself.

40 Days of 4 Things, Day 1

Today, I decided to challenge myself

I am not a good Catholic.  I have not been to church since Christmas, and before that I couldn't even tell you the last time I had sat in a pew.  Today is Ash Wednesday, which I guess is about burning plants and spreading the ashes on your forehead.  I'm pretty sure that it symbolizes the baby Jesus parting the Red Sea and hanging out on a pirate ship with pairs of disciples for forty days.   Honestly I have no idea because I've never read the bible.  Although for my first communion my aunt gave me this really tiny blue one with my name engraved in gold on the front cover.  I would be lying if I said I didn't carry it around in my back pack for years afterward. I wish I had an excuse for not being open to that kind of spirituality, I just never have been.  The fact that I'm not is weird to me, because religion is just about believing in things you can't see.  I've always been the type to believe in almost anything.  I am nothing if I am not a dreamer. 

Three weeks ago someone amazing left my life.  She was the most devoted person I will ever know. To honor her, I would like to see what this religion business is all about.  I am going to start with Lent.  When, I was a child I was always told to give something up, and I did so halfheartedly until no one was looking.  I almost always went back on my word, and did whatever I had purportedly decided to abstain from.  So this year, I've decided not to give anything up, not to sacrifice for seemingly no reason.  My sister told me that she believes it's not about giving anything up in the first place, it's about doing something to better yourself.  And though there are many areas I could stand to improve in, there is only one thing that I'm interested in getting better at, and that is writing.  That's why with God as my witness I am going to post an entry of 4 things every day for 40 days in a row. 

I won't always write the posts like I usually do, when I detail four things that happened to me that particular week.  Because it will be daily, I will try to talk about what happened on that particular day, or maybe I won't at all and just tell you four things I've been thinking about, or four things that I find amusing.  I hope either way that you enjoy it.

Last Friday, I hit another car:

This is not the first time I've talked about this, in fact you might remember it from an earlier incident which I talked about here.  I am not the greatest driver.  Although I have never myself been responsible for an actual traffic related accident, I have hit several things (and I'm assuming people) while backing out (whether that be in parking lots or driveways).  It's not that I'm not paying attention, it's just that I have no attention in which to pay with. My mind is nearly a hundred percent of the time on myself, and almost never on the task at hand.  Sometimes I'm thinking about whether I should treat myself to a Great American Cookie Company tray of cookies (I wouldn't have to think about it if it were just one), sometimes I'm thinking about how fantastic my hair happens to look at that moment.  Though usually I am thinking about how much I need to pee.  I don't know why it is, but almost as soon as I put my car in reverse my urinary tract shrivels up to that of a much older person, and I am immediately scrambling to get to my next destination so that I can relieve myself. 

This is what I was thinking about last Friday while pulling out of my school's mass communications department, after my weekly SPJ (Society for Professional Journalist, which I am only spelling out because I'll mention it again later) meeting.  It was then, while thinking of toilets that supposedly I hit a lady's car.  The only reason I even knew this, was because she happened to be sitting in her car at the time studying (I'm assuming because she has no friends).  If it weren't for her violently throwing herself out of her car, and nearly jumping atop the hood of mine, while screaming at me, I probably wouldn't have even noticed.  And though after parking my car again, and getting out to assess the damage on both of our vehicles, I couldn't see what the fuss was all about.  Her car was the filthiest vehicle I have ever seen.  Now, I'm all about having a dirty car, on the inside where no one can see how disgusting you really are.  I have been known to drive around with entire bags of fast food, that I have completely forgotten to eat, along with the detritus that I accumulate on a daily basis.  But, the outside of my car would never lead you to believe that there's a meth addict driving it (like the inside of it would suggest).  Among all the dust, and dried splattered mud, and what appears to be the remnants of some sort of water fowl on her car, I couldn't tell where metal had met metal and created the catastrophe that she seemed to be so upset about.  But, against my better judgment I gave her my information and got the hell out of there.  I could tell you that she was rude about the whole thing, I could tell you that she wasn't wearing a bra and her over thirty student nipples were pointing at the ground during our entire conversation, but I won't.  Instead, I'll just tell you that she was a cunt, and I didn't much care for her.

This week, I decided to go on an adventure

After writing that heading, I realized that adventure is the wrong word.  Let's just assume that the "ad" in adventure is the fun part, and take that out and just leave venture.  That's right, I am going on a venture.  At the tail end of March I am accompanying my local chapter of SPJ (see, I told you it would come up again that's what you call relevance) on a trip to regional conference in Nashville Tennessee.   Though, I'm excited about being able to meet new people in my field, and hear some of the speakers talk about their experiences in journalism, I'm mostly going just to get away.  I need a break, a trip, a\n excuse to stop being Jordan for a couple of days.  And though, I'm going to have to endure a twelve hour van ride with fourteen other people (some of them fatties, and some of them who just annoy me), I am determined to have an amazing time.  And in spite of myself, I am really excited. 

This month I lost one of the good things

My Grandmother died three weeks ago.  I've lived with her for the past three years, but even before she was the one relative outside my parents and sister that I have always had a relationship with.  She has always been one of the best things about my life.  It's already been three weeks and I find myself still devastated.  I say that not in a melodramatic way, it's just the way I feel. I know that some people say that death is not an ending, but a beginning, and that always sounded like a bunch of ridiculousness to me, but now I get it.  I don't think of it the way that most people probably do in that they believe it means that it is just the beginning of a person's eternal life.  I think of it as a beginning, because for the people that are affected by it, it's like starting all over again without that person.  I now understand why they measure time as before and after death because that's all there is.  There is your life before that person died, and your life afterward.  Honestly, I'm having a hard time dealing with it. 

As I prefaced this post, I will repeat, I am not very religious, and the skeptic in me has always kept me from truly believing in anything, no matter how badly I'd like to.  I am now choosing to believe there is a heaven.  There has to be, right?  There has to be a place where all of the amazing people go.  This can't be it for her, it just can't be.  I can't live thinking that's all there is to her story.  I have to believe that she is somewhere, that she is everywhere.  Otherwise what is the point?  What's the point of living a good life, if there is no reward? I believe she is everywhere.  I miss her more and more every second.  So, Goodbye Anna Francis.  You were one of the good things.

to Anna Francis

     I haven't written in the past month and a half not because of lack of topics but because I have been consumed with family crises.  My Grandmother who has lived with me for the past three years has been in the hospital on four seperate ocassions during my winter break from school.  She is dying slowly, but as surely as I am certain of most things I have no idea about.  I can tell she is slipping away, and as her health declines into the great recesses of there's no turning back, I have to say I wish she'd have the good sense to move on.  I say this not with indelicacy, as I honestly don't know how I'll deal without her as she has been one of the constants of my life. 

     I remember snapshots of her my entire childhood.  Her teaching me a song about ducks when I was three.  Playing a vast amount of card games with her when I was six.  Her calling my house and telling me to come over because she had made my favorite macaroni and cheese when I was nine.  Me crying on Christmas day when I was eighteen because on the telephone she told my sister that she loved her, but neglected to say it to me.  Her laughing at my jokes about her old friend Vicki, and how incredibly unattractive she is, last year. 

     But lately these memories have been replaced  by moments spent with a woman who acts nothing like my grandmother.  She's become angry and impatient in a way to deal with her chronic pain, and failing health.  She lashes out at me, at everyone who tries to help.  I don't know if it's because of her many illnesses, or a complete lack of ability to cope with not being able to do things for herself for the first time in her life.  I just know that the woman who I've been spending so much time with lately trying to ease her back into a temporary state of good health, is not the grandma I know, nor the type of person she would ever want to be.  I hope for her sake, it comes quickly.  Though selfishly I wish it would never come.  that we could go back to playing UNO on that old wooden table in her small kitchen, that she could forever say things to me like "Lordy Miss Agnes", and "Ah, foot!".  I am going to miss her, I guess in a way I already do.

Snippets

     You might not believe this because I post so infrequently, but I actually write for this blog quite often.  For some reason I always lose confidence in what I'm writing half way through, and never finish or post three quarters of what I write.  I went through some of those old posts tonight, and even though they are for the most part unfinished, I still think some of it numbers among the best things I've ever said.  Don't get me wrong, there's a reason why I never finished these things, sometimes they're just too personal, sometimes they make no sense, sometimes I recycle parts of them for other things I'm writing.  Though if it saves me from having to write anything original I'm going to show you some of them.  So, I am presenting to you these snippets, these bits and pieces of my life that have so far gone untold. 

Originally written 12/2/10

     Every time I begin to blog, I first read some of my old posts.  I don't know why I got myself in the  habit of doing this, because every time I read one, I have to then read nearly everything I've ever written.  I like seeing how I've changed, how my writing style has grown, how my jokes have become sharper.  I like the idea of growth, the idea that things always get stronger, bigger, better  I like thinking that there is no end to anything.  That talent grows, that people grow, that love grows.  There is no end to anything.

     I've been converting my parent's old VHS tapes to DVD, as part of their Christmas present.  Some of the tapes are filled with the mundane family gatherings that I always hated as a child.  The type where every single family member within in earshot of the camera is talking over one another, or saying something wildly offensive.But a lot of the tapes have childhood me in them.  I know this is going to sound self involved, but then again I am known for being self involved, but I love watching myself.  I like seeing the progression, the stretching out of my life in slower chunks of time.  I like the sheer fly on the wall aspect of it all. Some of the tapes I can remember exactly what I was thinking that day, how I was feeling. 

     I like to think I've grown, that I've changed, though I know that's not altogether true.  I am not any more intelligent than I was five years ago, ten years ago even.  I am not any more talented or quick witted than I was in those time frames of my life.  I feel like I'm nicer though, that I'm a little more .  I'm more observant of other people's feelings.

Originally Written 6/14/10
  
     I hate math.  I hate numbers, addition, multiplication, tangents, and cubes.  There is nothing good that can come out of subtraction or division.  I hate mathematics, because no matter how many professors of the subject claim that there are rules that help you get the answer to any given equation, the rules are always changing.  I don't like anything that isn't constant.  I've never understood math, and I never will.  Now, I'm not going to say that I think the square root of four is rainbows or anything, but it's still pretty bad.  Unfortunately I am taking a math class this summer, only because I hear that it is easier to pass in a shorter amount of time.  I still doubt I'll be able to do it, but I guess I can try.

      My hated for math has mostly been mostly based on the fact that I cannot understand it for the life of me.  This is a pattern in my life, I generally hate anything that I cannot understand.  This is most of the reason why I hate Mormons. 

Originally Written on 4/07/10

     I got contacts a couple of weeks ago.  I love them because it makes one part of me almost perfect.  I am no longer encumbered by wire frames and polycarbonate lenses.  That is freeing for me, to think that I can see without the aid of glasses. Though it makes me sad to think that I even need them at all.  It upsets me that I wasn't born with anything perfect.
.
     I've been feeling very unattractive lately. I know that doesn't sound all that important, but it's been plaguing me for weeks. I know that I should try looking inside for all that inner beauty bull shit, but to be honest I'm not sure I have any beauty inside me. In fact, all I have inside me are snide comments, and dick jokes. I'd like to say there's more there but that would be a lie. Oh wait, that's another thing I have in me...lies.

     I had a horrible biology teacher in the tenth grade. She was short tempered, and not all that intelligent from what I can remember. Once she even made us dissect a sheep's heart. It was disgusting, and I'm pretty sure I still don't know what the hell is inside of a sheep's heart. Though, I do remember learning one thing in that class. I do remember learning about adaptation, and how we all change to survive. We all pick up little survival instincts along the way that keep us steady, keep us alive.

Originally Written On 4/19/10

     It is a weird sensation to be alive. Though I've never personally been on the other side of life,I realize that the sentiment is true all the same. It is a weird thing to know that I am a living body, beating heart, and blinking eyes, and breathing lungs. It is an odd thing to know that I am stuck in an ever changing body. I am constantly getting older careening towards uncertainty. I will be twenty three in a couple months time.

I never even imagined myself becoming a legal adult, I thought for sure I would tie tragically young. I think that has something to do with my best friend dying when I was young. He died when he was only ten years old. I was two years younger, and I think subconsciously I always held in the back of my mind that if it could happen to him, it would more than likely happen to me. I held bated breath on my tenth birthday, knowing in the back of my mind that as soon as I blew out those candles some tragic fate would befall me. And when it didn't, I don't think I knew what to do about it. I know that sounds odd, as most of my thoughts do. But in that revelation there was an inkling I had that told me to be louder, bigger, better. I haven't always lived up to it, sometimes I am not as great as I would like to be. Sometimes I'm not as nice as I'd like to be. Sometimes I completely forget that people even exist. In fact that very thing happened last night...

Originally Written On 12/08/08

     I am notoriously selfish, I always have been. I've always been pretty much focussed on my own needs and wants, rather than caring all that much about anyone else. And though some might say that this is a bad charachter trait to host, I completely disagree for the most part. I believe it's all very survival of the fittest. I never really bought into the whole Darwinism thing, but I do believe that we are all hard wired to care for ourselves above all things else, because if we don't who the hell else is going to do it for us? Except for our parents, and the ocassional loved one not a single person really cares about you more than they care about themselves. I've always viewed it as basic instinct, just human nature. I just can't help it, I was built thi way.

     So I spend most of my days attempting to meet my every whim, damn the consequences. If I want something, I buy it no matter how ridiculously expensive it may be. If I want to say something, I say it loudly without thinking of hurting anyone else. I do what I want, I do what I feel. I do for myself, constantly.

Real Quick Like

     I thought that when school ended for the semester I'd finally have enough time to write something.  I was wrong, the end of school only made things ramp up to a new level of ridiculousness.  I just wanted to write a quick update to say that I think something odd just happened.  I just walked in the front door to find that in my absence my parent's had purchased a new 50 inch plasma, that was  hanging in all it's glory as I walked in the living room.  I'd like to say I had my first appropriate dude reaction to a piece of electronics and immediately started scratching my balls and wondering when the game was on.  More on that later though.

A Prelude to 4 Things: "Oh Why, Oh Why, Oh, Why, Oh Did I Ever Leave Ohio?"

I know that things have been quiet here for quite some time, and I apologize about that.  I have many things to discuss with you as soon as finals are over in a week.

Topics we should discuss:

1. My trip to Cleveland
2. Why I was an unattractive twelve year old
3. How my new Gap sweater implies that I have a vagina when I'm wearing it
4. How I've consumed an unwieldy amount of calories in the past two weeks.  Seriously, you would be appalled. Yesterday I had not one Hostess product, but two; and they did not come in the same package. 
5. How I'm submitting a portfolio for both the McNeese Contraband, and a local magazine so I can score some freelance work
6. How Arlene and Jefferey changed my life

I'll see you in a week, though if you were wise I wouldn't hold me to a strict time frame. 

2 and a Quarter Things

I've been meaning to write an installment of 4 things, and I am doing that right now, but to tide you over here is the remnants of one I wrote at the end of August.  Some of it makes no sense, and it cuts off at the end, but I still think parts of it are pretty awesome.  So, enjoy that shit.


This Week I Became a Mentor

I've already told you that this semester I will be working as a mentor for incoming freshmen at McNeese, which I was totally excited about until I learned I'd be expected to sit through four hours of productivity meetings to be trained.  There is nothing I hate more than meetings, maybe it's because I have an instilled inability to sit still for more than six minutes straight without losing concentration and begin to think of more important things like penguin birth and the direction that Justin Beiber's career is heading.   More than likely though it's just that I hate being in a group.  I'm not trying to say I'm a loner or anything because that is totally not the case.  In fact I absolutely hate being alone, but if I am going to be with a group of people it should be people of my choosing. It should not be a hodgepodge of uninterested twenty somethings being forced to listen to a middle aged woman speak about "how uplifting it can be to mold the young minds of tomorrow" or whatever bullshit the lady in charge of this meeting was spewing. 

I guess I've always hated that rah-rah, we are the world bullshit.  I hate forced enthusiasm, that kind of hokey empowerment makes me want to seriously consider bulimia as my new religion.  I dread one day having a career where I may be forced to sit through seminars with motivational speakers and team building exercises.  I'm not sure I could possibly be able to keep my shit together long enough to stand it.  I don't want to come off as cynical or anything, it's just that this kind of forced giddiness does not work on me.  I do not want to work with a group I would rather work alone.  Mostly because I know that I am not stupid and anyone I were to be paired with more than likely would be.

 I'm  not trying to belittle the work that this woman is doing, or the work that these other people are hoping to do with these students.  It's just that I'm not in it for self satisfaction.  In fact I'm only doing it because the head of the journalism department asked me to, and I don't want to piss her off seeing as she is the professor of most of my classes.  Thankfully I was able to do what was expected of me in this meeting.  I sat, and I nodded, and I acted as if I was pondering thoughtfully.  I hate knowing that I'm expected to smile and nod and speak thoughtfully instead of screaming the obscenities that are blaring in my mind.   I just hate that "we are all in this together" mentality. We are not in anything together except for this awful room.  Everyone one is in it for themselves.  Teamwork was only ever meant for migrant farmers and lesbians.

I guess it's no surprise that I hate working in groups because I am prone to hating all strangers.   I have to had talked to someone at least twenty times for me to consider them as a human being.  I am notorious for avoiding strangers at almost all costs.   I like to think it's the precocious first grader in me who is worried about STRANGER DANGER, and getting molested. Which let me tell you my parents were always unusually vocal of the possibility that any moment I could be molested.  I'm not sure what gave them this impression I'm not sure that I was an unusually attractive third grader or anything.  

This Week I Started School

I know for sure that one of my teachers is already on the first day starting to piss me off. She is teaching my "production across media' class which is basically video editing and learning how to use final cut pro.   Not only did the professor do that stupid thing where everyone goes around the room and talks about themselves endlessly.  I have never been good at this exercise, and like I mentioned earlier I hate strangers so I care very little about the lives of my classmates.  I don't care if before they came to McNeese to study Mass Communications they were in a troop of African tribal dancers that used to entertain America's elite in the backrooms of strip clubs across the Midwest.   I don't care about the lives of strangers because I barely have time to care about myself.  People should be more sensitive to the fact that I think about myself all day long, constantly and therefore do not have the time to be pondering other people's existences.  Anyways after hearing about Melissa who with a tilting sort of whiny voice told us that she couldn't decide whether she should continue with her degree in Public Relations or purse a career in dance.  She then proceeded to tell us that she had never danced before but was willing to now start trying at the ripe age of twenty two.  No one picks up a new skill at twenty two.  At twenty two you already have everything you're ever going to have.  You will from that point on neither get any smarter or dumber.  You will not pick up any new talents or skills.  You are constant from that age forward.  You cannot just decide you want to be a dancer.  Twenty two is too old to become a prodigy or an ingenue. 

Hearing Melissa talk about herself for near ten minutes reminded me of something I just heard about someone I was once friends with.  This person is quite possibly one of the dumbest people I've ever met.  I remember once we shared an English class and after the teacher had painstakingly walked around the room to pass out that days test.  He waited until she sat down and without even glancing at the exam stood up and turned it back into her.  When she asked him if he wanted to try to answer the twenty something questions upon the page he replied "that it was just too hard"  He also used to turn in papers with thinly veiled plagarism.  He once wrote a research paper on some celebrity that I cannot recall right now and in lieu of copying what was in the book as "she was born in 1962" he wrote "she was born in the year of 1962".  See?  He was painfully dumb, the kind of dumb that only usually occurs after head trauma.  Anyways I recently found out that this dumb ass has decided he wants to become a pharmacist.  Not only is that the most terrifying thing I've ever thought of, but what the what is he thinking?  You cannot just wake up one day and decide you are going to be a god damned pharmacist.  That's just not feasible.  That's like me saying I have a secret desire to be a mathematician, or an Asian bikini waxer.  I have no chance of being an Asian bikini waxer (that is to say an Asian who waxes bikinis not an Asian's bikini waxer).  I have almost no chance of being an Asian bikini waxer because I have no preposition to become one.  First off, I don't think I'll ever be able to magically become Asian.  Second of all, when have I ever shown any sort of gumption in the field?  Did I dream as a child of one day pouring hot wax on the genitals of strangers and speaking in broken English?  Did I train for years on the pubic regions of my sleeping friends?  No, I did not and that is why I will never be an Asian bikini waxer, and he will never be a pharmacist.  I don't appreciate it when people dream too big. 

This Week I Joined a Gym

You've heard me bitch about how fat I am on more than one occasion I am sure.  I've said it before that I am not crazy fat.  I am not the kind of fat that seat belts can't contain, or that airplanes cannot accommodate.  I am not the kind of fat that has to resort to shopping at the Big, Fat, Tall, and Ugly store, although they do send me the catalog that way I may one day be able to order in the privacy of my own home.

4 Things I Want To List

You guys are so lucky today a wave of sickness has knocked me out of commission and finally slowed me down enough that I can sit at the computer for more than three seconds so that I might post something.  I don't have the energy to post a full blown segment of 4 things, but I think that this might tide you over until that time.

4 things that I am excited about right now:

1. I finally got an iphone 4, which makes me feel very sophisticated and important.  I imagine that when people see me on it, they think that I am talking to important clients, or arranging meetings.  The sad reality is that I'm probably ordering General Tso's Chicken from Yank Sing for pick-up, but they don't know that do they?  Though it is helping me to reach my goals of being a more proficient and amazing individual.  There are all kinds of note taking, and scheduling apps to keep up with my life.  But there's also a game where you get to fling birds at pigs so as you can imagine that's exactly what I've been doing.
2. I finally booked my flight to Cleveland for this November.  I didn't think I'd end up actually doing it, but I am so excited about it.  I imagine that I'll spend my time there eating at less than hygienic twenty four hour diners, seeing the first installment of the new Harry Potter movie, and laughing so much that I'll lose my voice, or start doing that really annoying squealing thing that I am prone to do. I know this next part is going to sound very juvenile for a twenty four year old but I have never gone anywhere without my family and that thought is exhilarating, the freedom.  I cannot stop thinking about it.
3. My news writing class is so great, I really love it.  I'll admit that before I actually started to get into my journalism classes I wondered if it was for me.  Most of my fears have subsided now, mostly because I'm enjoying it so much.  I feel like I'm learning so much, not just about the craft itself but about the world around me.  So far I've interviewed a nurse, a student who has started her own charity, a child psychologist, and a firefighter.  I know that makes me sound like I'm writing essays for a middle school career fair, but still.  I am really enjoying learning about things that I previously had no aptitude or interest in whatsoever.  
4. The last thing I'm excited about is really just everything else that hasn't already been mentioned.  Do you get that feeling when even though you have no reason to believe that things are about to be amazing you just know they are?  I've been feeling like that for a while now.  Usually I'm a terrible Debbie Downer, but right now I just feel so optimistic.  I feel so hopeful, and sure of everything.  I just know that things are going to be amazing, without much effort on my part.  Things will fall into place.  I'm sure of it.

4 things I love right now:

1. Little Lies by Dave Barnes
2. These shirts from American Eagle which fit in perfectly with my closet full of plain colored t shirts.  These make me feel a little less like a giant cotton covered wall of fat.
3. This iphone case I found on Etsy, which I would order because it looks amazing, but it is totally impractical to put a four hundred dollar phone in a cotton sleeve. 
4. Einstein's Brother's Honey Whole Wheat Bagels, which I eat nearly every Tuesday and Thursday morning during my break between classes.

I'm so mono begging to be stereo

Today I was told by my journalism professor that to be a journalist one has to be aggressive.  To be a successful writer one must be balls out and take no prisoners and be cut throat, and all of those other adjectives to describe a complete asshole.  I immediately was terrified because I may be the least aggressive person in the entire world.  Although naturally curious by nature I am not the one to go out of my way to talk to new people.  In fact I'm more inclined to do the opposite and stand int he corner and observe until someone deigns to speak to me first.  I never want to interrupt, or speak out of place, or be presumptuous.  It's just not in my nature.  I don't want to step on any metaphorical toes. 

It got me thinking that maybe I'm doing it all wrong.  Maybe it's not enough to just love something, or to have a mild amount of talent for it.  Temperament is important, drive is important, maybe I don't have enough of either of those qualities.  Maybe there is some job out there that I'd be more suited for. 

I've never tried pottery.  What if the first time my hands touched clay I made the world's best clay pot?  What if I am a pottery prodigy and never knew it?  I could be the worlds best clay pot maker;  and how will I know whether or not I am if I've never tried?  How will I try all of the things out there before I decide what it is that is meant for me.  Is there anything out there that is meant for me? 

What if I can't be aggressive, or what if I have no place in a newsroom?  What if I look horrible in business attire?    What if no one wants to come to lunch with me?  Will I be expected to buy an iPad?  What if I can't reach deadlines?  What if I don't measure up? I am terrified that I will be the worlds worst journalist.  Will I graduate with a degree in Journalism only to be made to write up obituaries for the rest of my life?  Will I someday have to take a job as editor of the Thrifty Nickel?  What if I am the world's worst journalist?  Do they offer some opposite of the Pulitzer prize, some Razzie of the newspaper world?  Will they create the award just for me so that everyone knows that I am the worst writer to ever grace the crinkled first page of some small local daily? 

I feel like it's already started and I am no where near graduation.   I've been assigned to write one article a week.  Find a story, find an interview, write it up.  I'm already nervous.  I've already begun to spin.   I know that I am spinning because that is what I do.  I spin out of control so fast that almost no one can keep up with the bouts of crazy radiating off of me.  Has anyone as ridiculous as me ever gone on to be successful in this field?  Do you have their number? 

Tentative

I just want to let you know that I wrote a post for week five of Four Things the other night.  I wrote three or four pages of what has happened to me in the past couple of weeks.  Sadly it was written when I was completely exhausted, and it makes little to no sense whatsoever.  So I am going back and editing the shit out of it.  So it should be up by tomorrow at the latest.

Four Things Week Four

From this week forward, you can call me Professor Gribble.

    The head of the journalism department, and my academic adviser recently asked me if I would be willing to assist her with the incoming Mass Communications majors by helping her teach the required Freshmen Foundations course.  I was almost immediately pretty excited about this proposal because I almost always get excited about anything I might have to buy new clothes for. In my mind all male teachers wear sweater vests and checkered bow ties, coupled with the kind of pants I believe are known as trousers.  I immediately begin pursuing J Crew's website, but sadly did not buy anything because one of my forthcoming bullet points.

     But anyways, I am terribly excited about her offer because I think it's about time that someone has noticed that I deserve to be in a position of power and influence over malleable minds.  It's time that I begin to imprint my great fountain of knowledge on the youth of Louisiana.  Actually my teacher made it pretty clear that I would not be teaching the class in any capacity because apparently I'm not qualified.  Whatever, I'm pretty sure that I will be the sole instructor of the  class.  I believe that I'll get to assign homework, and to make tests. I believe that I'll finally be in a position where I can be sued for the sexual harassment of a student.  Sadly, none of this is the case though, as my professor mostly insinuated that I would be responsible for helping the students and answering questions about he workings of the University.  I would also be responsible for helping with the grading, and posting assignments and such on Blackboard.  That mostly sounds really boring, and something I wouldn't even be good at because I am prone to large stretches of ineptitude and indifference on almost every subject.


This week I hit the poverty line.

     I have been broke as a joke for the past two weeks.  I'd like to say because I was suffering silently after working hard and being able to pay all of my bills.  I wish I had spent my money on bills because then at least I'd know what the hell happened to it.  Sadly, I don't even have any bills.  None, I have no financial responsibilities whatsoever.  I never have, yet I have never been able to hold on to twenty dollars for more than an hour.   A lot of people say that you need money to make money, and I wish I could say I was taking all of the money I make and am turning it into some kind of money-spinning venture that will leave me flush with cash.   That is not the case in the slightest.  See, I don't know if you know this about me or not but I kind of have a shopping problem.  I don't mean that in a way that says I am materialistic or that I need the newest, hottest every things.  I don't really care about that kind of stuff to be honest.  I just have a problem in which if I see something and like it, I have to have it.  I cannot handle not owning it, and holding it, and taking it home.  If I see a shirt I like, I'll buy it in five colors.  If I want a candy bar, I'll buy five of them, and end up throwing three of them away.  I have a sick, sick addiction.  I blame my Grandmother.

     When my Grandmother was alive, she was the most generous woman I had ever known.  Generosity didn't come hard for her, as I believe her DNA strands were made out of hundred dollar bills.  She came from money, she had always had money, she shared her money with the people she loved.  She lived over six hours away, so when I did get to see her she'd celebrate my birthdays and Christmases and Chinese New Years by bringing me to the mall and telling me to buy what I wanted.  She never asked why I wanted a particular something, she never questioned my selections she would always just tell me to "wear it well", and handed over her credit card. I don't want you to assume that I had my hands outstretched waiting for her charitable donations, because that wasn't the case.  Though, having her around got me used to getting what I want.

    Honestly she probably had nothing to do whatsoever with my complete inability to stick to any kind of budget.  I mostly just wanted to talk about her.  I guess the moral of the story is that I can't be trusted with money.  I will absolutely blow it, waste it, give it away.  I may never grow up.

This week I have liked some things.













 


This week I was not a fire starter, nor a firefighter.

    I did not set the world on fire this week.  In fact if the world had been on fire I believe I would have feebly tried to put it out by peeing on it, and then have given up half way.   I then would have ignored the screams of the third degree burn victims and gotten back to my regularly scheduled nothing.   I think it's pretty clear that I tried to avoid doing anything at all this week.  I would have had nothing to write about if things just hadn't fallen into my lap.  I didn't actually do anything if you haven't noticed from the first three entries.  All of the things that did happen to me came from complete lack of participation on my part.  I didn't go after a mentor ship position, I was offered one.  I did not worry about budgetary concerns therefore I am broke.  See?  I did absolutely nothing this week.  Things just happened to me with no work or forethought whatsoever.  I wish I had been more productive, but in all honesty I'm not sure I'm ready for kids. 

Things that will have happened to me next week:
I will have seen my best friend who is coming in for a few days.
I will have gone to a training meeting for the mentor ship program.
I will have gone to rehab for drug and twizzler abuse.
I will have attempted to not be so useless.

Newsworthy

    You probably remember a couple of months ago I said that I was going to start scouring the newspapers for articles from every possible section, and give my own thoughts on the stories from within.  I planned to do this to familiarize myself with all of the sections and maybe to acquire an interest for news, so that one day I may be better equipped to write it.  The last time I thought about it was in March when I posted this post ont he dangers of bedbugs, and haven't thought of it again until now.  I wasn't wrong, it's not a bad idea, so I am going to attempt to do it, only this time actually do it.  One section at a time I am going to get to know each section of the newspaper. I've decided that just like the first post I wrote I will get my articles from The New York Times, because my local paper cannot be trusted for anything that is not about a hurricane that happened nearly six years ago. 

     I've said it before, but I absolutely hate reading the news.  Sure, it's informative, and sometimes interesting, but it's always written in such a cut and dry way that I can't stomach it.  I prefer a little more magic in the things I read. So I will be trying to find the lesast painful articles to report on as possible. Today I read a piece from the World section entitled "Indonesia Finds Banning Pornography Is Difficult" by Aubrey Belford.  I picked this piece because it was the only one that had "pornography" in it's title.  The short of the article is that Indonesia's information minister Tifatul Sembiring has mandated that Internet Service Providers in the region will have to somehow prevent their subscribers from being able to access pornography by August 11th, 2010 which is the beginning of the Muslim fasting month known as Ramadan.  Internet service providers are finding this task to be insurmountable.  Apparently there is no quick and easy way to get rid of millions of porn sites from all over the world that are popping up as quickly as blue balls will be if Sembiring has his way.

   I could start off by saying that I think the whole idea of blocking porn from the people of Indonesia is ludicrous, but who cares what I think?  Clearly they believe that the viewing of pornography is somehow dirty or wrong, and I am not going to belittle their belief system.  Though I have no qualms about saying how ridiculous the notion is.  I'm just wondering what the death rate of porn is in Indonesia.  Can anyone find me some facts and figures on how many people in Indonesia have died in the last ten years due to porn?  Maybe there's something I don't know, maybe Indonesia has some kind of porn that induces some kind of crazy seizure, where immediately after seeing it a man goes and sacrifices a virgin in the middle of the street in the name of Dick Cheney.  I have no idea what they do in Indonesia, I don't even know where Indonesia is located.  All I know is that you can't stop porn.

     I don't want you to think that I'm some some porn crusader.  I am not fighting for the rights of porn, in fact I do believe that porn is too easily found by those who aren't even looking for it.  It comes into the hands of people who should never be allowed access to it; sex offenders, children, Mel Gibson.  Maybe it's just me, but I swear porn somehow manages to find me even though I'm not looking for it.  I get at least ten messages a month through Facebook from random spam accounts with a slutty girl picture and an invite to chat in exchange for cash.  The country of Indonesia isn't wrong, maybe something should be done.  Porn shouldn't be so easy to find, it should be restricted.  Attempting to get rid of it completely, however is a fools errand.   The people of Indonesia (or Indonesians, or Indonesianites) are just trying to get their rocks off.  What's so wrong with that?

Four Things Week Three

     I have been attempting to write this for the past couple of days, but I wanted to tie up the loose strings before writing about these things.  For instance you can probably already see by the first header that I have quit smoking in the past week.  I didn't want to say I had done that only to re neg on it a couple of days later.  I had to make sure that it would stick.  To be honest I probably would have kept you waiting if it hadn't have been for Kelli's glowing review of this Four Things series.  I would like to thank her publicly by stating that she is the best writer I know, with a talent that usurps mine greatly.  She is also probably nicer than I am, and is always willing to be the only other person I know that is willing to order more than one desert with me.  If you have never read her blog I couldn't possibly tell you in under three thousand words how fantastic it is, so go and find out for yourself.

This week I quit smoking.

     I should start this out by saying that I have an addictive personality.  If I find myself liking something, I can't ever seem to get enough of whatever that something may be.  If I like a sandwich at Quiznos I'll eat it every day for a week, for lunch (In case you were wondering my sandwich of choice is always a Chicken Carbonara on Rosemary Parmesan bread with extra jalapenos).  If I think a person is funny, I'll call them every single day and talk to them for hours at a time.  I can never seem to get enough of the things I like.  I guess what I'm saying is that I would make a good junkie.  I can honestly see myself with dark circles under my eyes, sweaty and even paler than I already am, just looking for my next fix.  I guess that's why I've never been much of a drinker, I've always assumed that if I have more than a couple of sips, I'd be dead within a week, my liver in shambles.

     It's just that I have always been too willing to give myself up to something, anything for a little bit of satisfaction.  I realize that with some things like my Quiznos obsession the only thing in danger is the credit limit on my Old Navy credit card because I will eventually have to start buying new clothes to accommodate my expanding waistline.  Though sometimes my addictions are more reckless.  I should have known better than to ever start smoking.  I could chalk it up to the indiscretions of my youth, or that when I took my first drag I was in a horrible period of my life, or that I was surrounding myself with the worst kinds of people.  Those things all have some semblance of truth to them, but they're not the whole story.  Sometimes I think I just wanted to do something bad for the first time in my life.  Do something that people wouldn't' be happy about, do something that made me stand out for once.  I'm not saying that it's good reasoning, because it is not.

    I've been smoking since I was nineteen, I am twenty four now, for those who are as mathematically challenged as I am that totals to five years (I had to count on my fingers twice to figure that out).  Five years that I willingly did something I knew was wrong.  God, am I starting to sound like an anti smoking PSA?  That was not at all my intentions.  I'm starting to believe that quitting is taking away my sense of humor, I hope that's not true.  Last week I bought my last pack of Marlboro Menthol one hundreds, and bought my first pack of NicoDerm CQs.  When I put the first tan colored patch upon my forearm, I felt an immense sense of relief.  And even though the patch stands out awkwardly among my pale skin, I'm okay with that.  I keep telling everyone it's my Ortho Evra birth control patch, which is a huge blow to those people who are trying to inseminate me, I'm sure.  Though, I like the patches because they  make me not have any cravings at all.  Though breaking the habit of driving around listening to dumb music and smoking, is going to be a bitch.

This week I traded one addiction for another.

     I've always heard that the second you stop smoking you are sure to gain thirty seven pounds of your dignity back.  I guess I am doing my part to keep that truth alive.  Within seconds of smoking my last cigarette I quickly found solace in a bag of goldfish,  followed by a six pack of twenty ounce mountain dews, and chased them with an entire bag of cherry flavored pull and peel Twizzlers.  I love Twizzler's, they are God's perfect food.  They are sweet, and chewy, and taste like home; if you happen to live in a dirty movie theater that is.  In fact I think it's possible that in the past seven days I have consumed the world's supply of Twizzlers.  There are no Twizzler's left for the children of the world, unless of course they're looking for the black ones which I'm sure they'll find in droves because no one wants them--they're disgusting.

    I'd like to say that I am attempting to counteract this sudden binge of carbo-loading, but instead I'm just going to let it play out.  I guess I could try to eat sensibly and maybe try to figure out exactly what pilates entails, but instead I think I'll go the opposite direction.  No, instead I am going to eat whatever the hell I feel like and pray that I don't get crazy fat.  As everyone knows crazy fat is the exact weight you must reach to be considered for a job in postal service.  All postal workers I've ever seen are crazy fat individuals, not that I think there's anything wrong with the postal service or anything.  I'm just not sure I'm organized enough to be considered for it.

This week I had the craziest dreams.

    On the box of nicotine patches there is a warning that states that the wearing of said patches overnight might result in vivid dreams.  They were not lying.  The first couple of nights I wore the patch to bed without much concern of the consequences.  I made the wrong decision. I did not sleep for three nights straight due to the ridiculous dreams I was waking up from every fifteen minutes.  I am well aware that there is nothing in this world that is less interesting than having to listen to someone talk about their own dreams.  Trust me I know, I used to know this guy who was constantly walking up to me and asking me to talk about his dreams with him, this guy was the worst.  Though his dreams were not at all as interesting as mine.  Let me walk you through a couple of the scenarios that I remember.

     Scenario One: I had a dream the first night that my friends Bryant and Kelli asked me to accompany them on a trip to Oklahoma, the journey was made my train. On the voyage Kelli who is not narcissistic in the slightest, would not stop talking about her own hair.  Bryant did the only normal thing in the entire dream, and did what he always does and talked about electronics he wanted to purchase.  Once we arrived in the great state of Oklahoma, Bryant quickly informed me that he was ready for me to leave.  I was somehow transported back to Louisiana, and I cried about never getting to see Oklahoma whilst baking the most bizarre apple pie I've ever seen. 

     Scenario Two:  I was on some kind of covert mission with a guy who I guess was supposed to be my brother, when in reality I don't even have a brother.    My fictitious brother and I were both proficient with firearms (in reality I've never even held a gun).  We broke into a stranger's home where an overweight teenage prostitute resided.  We ran out of bullets, and the whore's father told us that we could steal some from the local Walgreen's (Sadly, Walgreen's is part of my reality).  The dream ended when me and my partner left the house and entered into a lobby where someone shot us (If this was reality, I'm pretty sure my last words right now would be "Twizzlers").

    See?  Even people on high quality pharmaceuticals don't have dreams like that.  That is ridiculous.  Remind me to never quit smoking again. 

 This week I bought some goldfish.

     I'm finally going to talk about something that except for the twenty three words in this sentence has nothing to do with smoking.  For the past few months I've been having this fantasy about owning goldfish.  I'm not sure why, because I'm not even a huge fan of fish.  In fact I don't really like animals other than dogs.   I hate cats, reptiles, and rodents, parrots are okay. Though,  I would be perfectly happy to have as many as seventeen dogs, eighteen would be enough to have someone call animal control on me, but seventeen would be perfect.  Though for some reason I've been wanting to own a goldfish really badly.  I don't even have a great track record in fish ownership, as the only marine life I've ever been responsible for has met an untimely death.  I once had a Betta fish named Jalapeno, and he met his fate early on when I completely forgot he existed and forgot to feed him for two weeks.  I also once purchased a pair of fish for my Grandmother that I had named Rizzo and Kenickie (from Grease fame), who died in a matter of weeks.  Though I had nothing to do with their demise, I still feel guilty about it.  I also once killed an entire colony of Sea Monkeys by accidentally dumping them all over my bedroom floor.  So I guess you could say that I might not ever foray into the world of marine biology.  Although, I do think it would be fun to run an aquarium, only so that I could sneak behind children who were viewing the shark tank, and scream loudly in their ears so as to make them pee themselves.  Because if R. Kelly taught us anything it is that urine be funny.   

   
     I guess the point of all this is to say that this fantasy has been fulfilled  I purchased these last weekend, and surprisingly they are alive.  I have no clue as to what sex they are, but I'm just assuming that they are male and female, and are of course in love.  I was originally going to name them Queen Latifah and Tupac Shakur because my coworker told me that she believes I have a blackocity higher than most white people she knows.  I wanted to name them after two great African American's as to benefit our community.  Though, I ultimately decided to go back to my roots and to name them after two Southern deities: Paula Deen and Conway Twitty.  Paula is a boisterous cow of a goldfish, and is constantly mixing foodstuff with her bare hands, bawdy rings on every finger.  Conway is a womanizing alcoholic, who enjoys guitar strumming and harmonizing.

I know, I know

I realize that I'm about a week late with a post, but I wanted to wait to write until things started happening.  Thankfully, things are happening, huge things and I want to be able to do them justice so just give me a bit, okay?

Four Things Week Two

     I'm two days late with this post, but at least I'm posting so I don't want to hear your bitching.  I act as if there are hundreds of you out there clamoring for my every word, instead of all two of you.  That's fine, I'm glad you're here.  I knew when I started this posting experiment that some posts would be better than others, as I am prone to having large bursts of productiveness, followed quickly by giant lapses of nothing.  Which is a shame, because I prefer to be busy.

This Week I Did The Inevitable and Failed My Math Class

     I'd like to start out by letting you know how much I truly hate the study of mathematics.  I hate numbers, addition, multiplication, tangents, and cubes.  There is nothing good that can come out of subtraction or division.  I guess adding is fine, but the trouble comes when you begin to go forth, be fruitful, and multiply. I hate math, because no matter how many professors of the subject claim that there are rules that help you get the answer to any given equation, the rules are always changing.  I don't like anything that isn't constant.  I've never understood math, and I never will.  Now, I'm not going to say that I think the square root of four is rainbows or anything, but it's still pretty bad.  Unfortunately I am taking a math class this summer, only because I heard that it is easier to pass in a shorter amount of time. I'm not sure what asshole said that to me, but if I can ever remember, I am going to shove my eighty dollar math book up their ass.

     To be honest, the class didn't start out badly.  I have been out of math classes for over three years, so the little that I did already know had begun to fade away.  And though, I didn't immediately begin to jump back into my feeble understanding of the subject, I was at least on my way to a place where if I didn't understand the subject, I could at least scrape by and do what I do best and fake my way out of it.  And that's when my math class gave me a bladder infection a couple of weeks ago.  I'd like to say that the teacher after seeing me fall asleep at my desk for the umpteenth time stabbed me in the heart with an infected piece of chalk, which gave me the  painful disorder.  But sadly, it was just his refusal to let me leave class to use the restroom that made  my kidneys fill up with waste, and by the end of the two hours had me doubling over in random shudders of bladder pain.  I know you probably weren't expecting this post to end up as a detailed account of the excretory system, but sorry that's just the way my kidneys roll.  The day following my painful bout with bladder infection, I skipped the class out of retribution.  I'm not sure if I thought this would somehow let the professor know that he had wronged me, or what.  Instead it just made me fall behind.  And then I began to fall further behind, to a place where I couldn't possibly catch up.  I should have known better, but if we've learned anything about me at all we know that I don't.  So, the moral of the story is, always pee before class or you'll end up taking it again next semester.

This Week I Began Watching Supernatural

    One of the reasons that I was reluctant to take a class this summer in the first place is that this is the first summer I've had as a college student in nearly three years.  I didn't really want to waste these three months by going to class, instead preferring to stay home and watch television that I had missed all last season thanks to homework and actual work.  Summer is also the time of the year where I begin to watch new shows that have caught my eye, so that I may begin to watch them when they start back up in the fall.  Although honestly, the list of shows I'm watching these days is spiraling so far out of control that maybe I shouldn't have begun to watch any new shows, or I may just fail all of my classes next semester.  My best friend suggested to me that I should start watching Supernatural, which is a show that I assumed would not be up my alley.  I lean towards entertainment that is funny, and brightly colored, maybe with a little song and dance, and light on the dramatics and mystery.  Though I knew I would end up watching it anyways because I am always looking for something to talk to my friend about.

    The thing is, I've been friends with this person since I was ten which is miraculous because we don't have a single thing in common.  Sure, we both have brown hair and have lived across the street from each other for half of our lives, but that is where the similarities stop.  He is thoughtful and funny, I am crude and obnoxious.  He is a law student, and I am a walking, bumbling, catastrophe most of the time.   To be honest, I'm not sure why he likes me but I'm glad that he does. So needless to say, I am always looking for things to talk to him about.  Though I assumed that if he liked it than I would more than likely hate it.  I'm not so into serious television, I mean I just finished watching an episode of "The Real Housewives of New Jersey".   But, I picked up the show last weekend thinking that even if I hated it I could hang in there and at least be able to discuss it with him.  Holy shit, I had no idea how amazing it was going to be.  You guys, the shit that is happening on this show is just unreal.  You have to watch it, so that I don't have to completely nerd out, and explain it to you.  Seriously.

This Week I Researched

     If you don't know me very well you might know that I am a planner.  I like to have nearly everything mapped out to the most minuscule detail.  It is one of the few things I am truly great at, and that is thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong.   You might say I'm a doomsayer, or a Debbie Downer and you would probably be partially right.  I just like to be prepared, I like to know everything I can possibly know about any product I plan on purchasing, or any deal I plan to get into. So, I research, and I plan, and I think a lot about every single one of my ventures.  I've been doing a lot research lately, on things I plan to buy.  I'm hoping to get an iPhone in the next couple of months, so I've been reading reviews, and researching message packages, and data plans, and discounts I can get based off of being a student.  I've also been looking into purchasing a new car in the next six months or so.  That is something I have never done, as both of the cars I have driven were bought for me.  I've never been able to actually sit and choose what it is that I wanted.  I'm leaning towards something mid size and red, though my father believes I should get something that runs so I have no idea what I'll end up getting.

     I also went to the McNeese bookstore this week and perused the list of books that I'll need to purchase in a month, just so that I'm fully prepared for how damn expensive they are so that I don't experience a chronic hernia after seeing my bill.  Will someone please tell me why it is that because I am taking an online course for Sociology that my book is seventy dollars more than the regular sociology book?  That is absolutely outrageous, and whoever decided this needs to be stopped immediately. 

This Week I Didn't Accomplish Things I Had Hoped I Might

     As you can probably gather from the three other accounts of my weeks adventures, I didn't get a whole lot done.  In fact, most of what I've been doing is watching Supernatural, and reading product reviews when I should be studying math.  So as you can imagine I didn't accomplish much.  There were a couple of things I meant to do in the last seven days that I somehow couldn't find an excuse to actually do.  Here are those things:

I did not eat any watermelon this week.
I did not find an appropriate or topical reason to use the phrase "Work that hose, bitch!" in normal conversation.
I did not watch a single game of the World Cup, even though I told myself I would try to get involved.
I did not read over my bank statements, and try to figure out where all of my money is going.
I did not get this post up inside the self scheduled deadline.


I will try harder to be more amazing next week, hopefully something happens.

Four Things Week One

     This blog makes me feel so guilty.  Not guilty because of the things I have said on it, but because somehow it has become a chore.  A chore to write about what is going on in my life.  I guess I never think of the minuscule happenings of my every day life as extraordinary enough to talk about. So instead I write nothing, and the guilt of writing nothing keeps me awake at night.  Actually that's a bold faced lie, because there's pretty much nothing in this world that can keep me from getting my daily twelve hours of sleep. Though, I do feel guilty of not keeping you abreast (I've never been able to figure out an excuse to use that word until now) of the minute details of my life. Which is not to say that I have nothing to talk about, because clearly I am where it's all happening in the world. 

     I guess I just need some inspiration, something that I will be proud to share with all four of you out there that are hanging on my every word.  I've decided to try a little experiment, to see if I can increase postings.  I have decided that every week I will write about four things I have done in the last seven days.  Sometimes these things will be things I planned, chances I wanted to take, things I wanted to say.  Sometimes they'll be errands, or the mundane things that bog me down.  Sometimes they'll be the completely bizarre things that seem to happen to only me.  So here goes what I am tentatively titling Four Things.  Original isn't it?


This Week I Wore Shorts In A Public Place.

    This has always been a sore subject for me.  If you know me in real life you may have noticed at some point that no matter the state of the weather outside during any given month whether it be in January or the middle of July that I am more than likely wearing jeans.  Even worse, I wear jeans with flip flops on a daily basis.  I know that's probably some deep fashion faux pas, but I wouldn't even know because even though my sister subscribed me to GQ for my birthday a month ago, I have yet to receive my first issue.  I guess   I've just always been funny about having the bottom two thirds of my body on public display for the world to gawk at.  It's not that I think that particular region of my body is in some state of complete disrepair or anything.  It's not like I'm walking around with cankles or something equally horrifying and disfiguring.  My thighs have never been bigger than my head, although to be fair I do have a rather large head.  I even have pretty decent calves which I like to attribute to the years I spent when I was in middle school jumping on my trampoline and listening to Reba McEntire.  Though, to be fair my legs are pretty pale, as is the rest of my frame.  I'd like to say that my body is tanned and chiseled, but sadly it's floppy and the exact same color of Elton John's face.  Though, I walk out of the door on a daily basis even though I have approximately seventeen chins, so I'm not sure why this is a sticking point for me. 

     So I decided to do the unthinkable and wear shorts to my Summer Session math class this last Thursday.  To be honest I only own one pair of shorts and those were purchased by my parents for my birthday, and though I deeply considered taking them back and exchanging them for the cash, I had inadvertently already taken the tags off of them, so sadly I was stuck with them.  I guess I should wrap this up by saying that oddly enough no one was harmed by seeing the blinding white flesh of my ankles and legs last Thursday.  Although I'm pretty sure I did hear a couple of gasps, and at least one audible shudder.  I do believe the only reason no one in that class turned to stone after looking at me, is because there was a test that day and no one took the chance of looking up to see my legs lest the teacher think they were cheating.  So score one for me I guess.  I tackled my fear, and no one died.  That's not to say, that I'll ever do it again.  I'm all for doing crazy things once, but am not ever willing to repeat them.


This Week I Went To The Dentist

    I know this is not exactly ground breaking news, as I'm sure most of you have excellent oral hygiene and go to regularly scheduled dental appointments.  That's not to say that my mouth is in a complete state of disarray.  I floss.  I've just never been big on the dentist.  I guess I've just always been ashamed of my teeth.  For some reason my parents decided in my adolescent years that there was no need for me to have braces, and the subject was never brought up.  My teeth aren't a hot crooked mess or anything, but they're not as perfect.  And through the use of many a box of Crest WhiteStrips I have tried to keep them in some semblance of the color pale. 

     I guess my fear of dentist stemmed from a couple years ago when my normal dentist got busted for some misdemeanor and had to close up shop.  Her last name was a slang term for the word butt, which I guess should have been a sign to my parents to contact the American Dental Association and find another practitioner.  So, I've just gone the past couple of years without a dentist, which I understand is horrible.  Trust me, I get it.  Though, don't worry three times a day when I'm going through my normal dental routine I recite a lecture in my head, and warn myself about the dangers of plaque and gingivitis just like she would have.  On Thursday in my post shorts wearing high, I went and got lunch with my sister and immediately afterward I felt like there was something stuck in between my molars.  So, I flossed, and I brushed, and I flossed again to no avail.  It became clear to me later that night when my bottom gums were being punctured by an unseen force, that I had chipped a tooth.  I made an appointment with an unknown dentist the following morning, and they scheduled me in for an Emergency visit.   After waiting for an hour, and falling asleep in the lobby, they finally called me in to an office with the two most attractive dental hygienists that are probably walking this planet.  I'm not sure if all dental hygienists are this attractive, and if that's a job requirement, but it must be.  I guess that's why you always hear about dentists banging their dental hygienists, because they simply cannot resist.  I'm guessing that they don't even waste money on expensive nitrous oxide to sedate their male patients, they just parade the dental hygienists around the reclining chair until they're in a semi catatonic state, drooling with mouths wide open.  

     They prepped me for an X Ray, and began to shove a large apparatus in my mouth, to which I responded to by gagging forcefully.  The dental hygienist replied by asking if I had a gag reflex.  Which up until this point was something I thought all people were installed with, but I guess not.  Great, now I have something else to feel self conscious about.  I've been going around all these years gagging unexpectedly, only to find that this is something that would qualify me for a circus side show.  After all was said and done the dentist came in and announced "there is something wrong with your tooth, something needs to be done about your tooth" well, thanks for the sagely wisdom, asshole.  He then informed me that I would need have a root canal, and then to get a crown installed, and would I be interested in something in a white porcelain, or a gold tooth?  I think I'll leave you hanging on my response to that question.


This Week I Planned A Trip To Visit Two Of My Favorite People

     I have been saying for more than a year that I would visit Ohio where my two favorite people have relocated.  Yes, I've looked up airplane tickets, and considered scheduling, but I have never actually gotten anything done.  Either my school schedule conflicted, or the money just wasn't there.  Thankfully I am now getting federal money to go to school because I am now what the government considers to be of non traditional school age.   Which is probably true, I am twenty four after all.  I might as well be a sixty year old grandmother sitting in some of my classes.  I certainly feel like a dinosaur in most of my classes.  Yes, it's true.  I know neither of Gossip or its Girl.  I am a dinosaur, and someone should take me out back and shoot me. 

     Anyways, thanks to this federal grant I now have a lot more spending money in way of student loans to play around with.  Normally, I would spend the money on frivolous things such as patterned boxer shorts, and cases of those delicious soft cookies they sell at Walmart. You know the ones with the really thick sweet icing and the sprinkles?  Those cookies are delicious and worth spending thousands of dollars on.  Though, I have budgeted my extra money and have finally found enough to go on a voyage to Cleveland.  That's right, it will be a voyage, not just a mere trip.  I have talked to the friend I am visiting and have worked out a time frame which suits both of our school schedules.  I am happy to  be doing something, to be going somewhere.  I like having something to look forward to, something to plan.

This Week I Saw Someone I Used To Know.

     I used to have this friend.  This friend who I had known since the sixth grade.  This friend that I had been loyal too, this friend that I had confided in.  This friend who I counted on.  A couple of years ago, this friend gave me up in favor of greater promises.  I used to be filled with resentment over this friend.  I was filled with bitter, angry feelings on how he had tossed me aside, after I had picked him up so many times.  Eventually I got over it as I tend to get over most things that ruined my life at one point or another.  I hadn't spoken to him in nearly two years, which was fine with me.  I saw him last Wednesday, as he came into the establishment that I work at.    Immediately I got that feeling in my stomach that I always get whenever I'm panicky and fearful of seeing someone.  I used to get this same feeling whenever I would see my ex girlfriend.  That feeling of pure terror,  that feeling of burning raw panic.

     He said hello, I said hello back.  He asked how I had been and I mumbled something about being fine.  I didn't ask how he was doing, because I didn't particularly care.  He then turned to walk away, and before he did he said to me "It was good having you as a friend".  With those words, it was all over.  The panic subsided, the fear went away.  The friendship is still over, and will always be over.  It just no longer feels like a burned bridge, but instead a bridge that was taken down by a city after a newer and better bridge was built in its place.  I have moved on to better people, and I hope he has too.  So goodbye Luke.  I hope things with you are well, even though I couldn't say it to you face to face.


So there's the first week of Four Things.  Painless wasn't it?  Or at the very least less painful than my trip to the dentist.