Summer semester started today. This made me realize that I need to make a trip back to school to sell last semester's books and buy the book for my Electronic Media & Film class. Please, let it not suck. I also got my last grade from spring semester today. Overview: Four As (with a couple of minuses) and one B (plus)! Yeah, I'll take that. Imagine my GPA if I DIDN'T procrastinate.
Despite this accomplishment, I was feeling pretty unproductive the past couple of days, so I read my first novel in months. I finished Gayle Forman'sIf I Stay in one night. I picked it up around 11 P.M. and didn't put it down until I finished sometime after 2 A.M. It was such a beautiful book. Based on the inside cover's description of the story, I never would've guessed what it was actually about and how beautifully heartbreaking it is. (I won't ruin it here, either. Just buy it!) It's a best-seller and there is already a movie deal in the works. Just a warning-- tears will ensue.
Since my sense of worthlessness returned once finishing the book, I started Laurie Halse Anderson'sWintergirls this evening. Like the former book, it's pretty dark so far, but also very good. Let's see if I can finish it by 3 A.M.
This is all I'll say about the American Idol finale.
Seriously!?!? Kris Allen is a nice, cute and very talented guy, but that does not mean he is deserving of the title. Adam Lambert is an all-around star. A "vocal powerhouse," as the judges like to overuse. Even Kris was shocked. He said it himself: "Adam deserves it!" After Seacrest called Kris' name (and my hands flew to my face), I watched Kris' surprised and uncomfortable reaction. He was so NOT excited about it, and for a moment, I thought the show would play out like a dramatic episode of insert-your-show-here and that Ryan would say, "You don't want the title? Alright then, our REAL American Idol, ladies and gentlemen, is ADAM LAMBERT!" Then Kris would graciously bow his head, wave a humble thank-you to the audience, then slink off as the surprised (and crying) Adam took the tiara and flowers. I don't know why the beauty contest-esque description is coming out here, but I really think it has to do with my subconscious memory of some bad TV show.
Of course, Adam won't have any less success because he wasn't "crowned" our newest American Idol. In fact, I think he'll do better. He'll have more creative pull in his future album-making process, and for that reason, it'll be better. And he won't have to record that godawful single, "No Boundaries." He'll have higher album sales. Kris will be a hit in America. Adam will be a hit internationally.
This is all coming from someone who liked Kris very much. He did some great renditions of songs. When he completely changed up Kanye's "Heartless," I was very impressed. He's definitely got the whole package. But he sounds and looks like a lot of male artists out there right now. There's not a whole lot that's unique about him as a singer. Still, I have to give him credit for winning the popularity contest.
Really, though. Does it matter? Not really. So I'll shut up now, and await Adam's (and even Kris') album.
Yesterday, I left the dorms behind for good. I was a very organized, efficient, fast-paced packer and left nothing behind. (Except my Jim Halpert of The Office magnet-- nooooo!) I was ready to get out. Of course, in all my haste, I completely forgot to check out and ended up bringing my dorm key home with me. They charge somewhere between $60 and $80 for missing keys. Whoops. Luckily, I called Housing & Residence Life, and it turns out I can mail it to them to avoid the fee. Let's see if they charge me anyway.
As happy as I am to be done with signing in guests, occasionally having to smuggle alcohol upstairs, and hearing echoey conversations from all the way down the hall, the next month-and-a-half until apartment life isn't looking too thrilling, either. Columbia isn't the most interesting town unless your idea of fun is doing a little shopping at the mall, grabbing dinner at Cheesecake Factory, then catching a $10 movie at AMC. Repeat. Every weekend. Blahhh. That's just my dad's house. My mom's house is technically in Reisterstown, though it's pretty much in the country, just five minutes from Cal Ripken's house. It's pretty, but nothing going on there, either.
This is not to say that I don't enjoy being home with my family. I'm actually quite happy that I can finally spend some extended time with them. Seeing my dad once a month for lunch and my mom twice every weekend for about five minutes while I grab the car and go isn't exactly quality bonding time. But I know when I'm headed out the door at 10 P.M. for whatever reason, I'm going to play 20 Questions about where I'm going and who I'm going with. It's not that they won't let me. It's just that they want to know. Dear Parents: If you're secretly reading this, a) don't tell me, because I will likely discontinue this blog; and b) sorry. But you know it's true.
Luckily, I will have my June online course to keep me occupied. And seeing as my room is a disaster (there are suitcases and boxes covering pretty much every square foot), I'll have a long, continuous cleaning project on my hands, too. Oh, I am missing the summer vacations of elementary school.
Currently Listening To: "Day Tripper" by the Beatles
Finals week has begun here at school, and instead of panicking, I'm finally able to sit back and relax. Kind of. I still technically have just one week left in this shoebox-shaped room, but otherwise, it's only a couple of tests and then I'm free at last. Justine and I signed the lease for our apartment today, and we'll be renters come July. Despite my readiness for the summer to begin, I know there are aspects of the past couple of on-campus years that I'll really miss.
I'll miss my view, for one thing. Despite the dingy, grey, allergen-ridden curtains that are probably older than I am hanging on the windows, Justine and I have a lovely panoramic view of the union, playing fields, trees and the sky. I typically decide what I'm wearing on any given day by looking out the window and people watching. Even though we're nine floors up, I can often pick out familiar faces during the busier hours of the day. When baseball is in season, I'll occasionally look up from my desk to see a ball flying straight up and down in the air. I also often see helicopters searching for criminals.
I'll also miss being able to yell loud enough for Jessica, next door, to hear (and then sometimes shush) me. At the beginning of the school year, which seems like forever ago now, we were all so excited to be living next to each other and sharing a bathroom. It took awhile for the novelty of walking through the bathroom only to end up in each other's rooms to wear off. Getting that cute shower curtain sure was fun, too. Even now, I'm glad I can belt out my faux American Idol audition (a glass-shattering rendition of Bon Jovi's "Always"... I'm really considering it for next season) and know that I won't have to worry about strangers from next door coming in my room one night and smothering me in my sleep. No, I'll just get a loud "shut the fuck UP" from Jess instead. Yes, I will miss that.
I'll miss Monday lunches at the Glen dining hall because, despite its lack of food with any flavor or appeal, it's the one time during the week when my entire group of friends gets together to eat. We might descend the stairs muttering our complete disdain for the place daily, but we can all agree that the loud, enthusiastic conversations that tend to last forever more than make up for it.
Finally, I'll miss Justine scolding me for not turning on the Christmas lights, interrupting my work-doing (or Facebook browsing) to rattle off everything she's eaten over the course of the day, and making me feel bad by getting all of her school work done days in advance while I procrastinate like it's my job. Of course, she will still do these things when we're in the apartment. The Christmas lights will find their way to our new dwelling and Justine will have to walk five whole feet from her room to mine to recite her To-Do lists.
Likewise, everything else I enjoy now will exist in some form then. We'll have a view of trees and possibly a dumpster, Jessica will be in a nearby building of the same apartment complex so I may bother her when I please, and our group will find a new day to have our weekly meal-- the food will be better, too.
On to the next stage.
Currently Listening To: "Save Tonight" by Eagle-Eye Cherry
I've been taking a course in LGBT studies (that's lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) this semester, and the professor recently showed us a surprising and-- if it wasn't so filled with bigotry-- almost funny ad from the National Organization of Marriage. Their use of the thunderstorm metaphor really conveys their message wonderfully. In case you haven't already seen it:
I almost thought it was a joke the first time I watched it. The dramatic flashes of lightning, the pathetic homophobe girl with bad posture claiming how she is being left with no choice, and, to top it all off, the "rainbow correlation" that is being formed. Ha! Was that unintentional? Or is that their way of trying to discredit the rainbow that symbolizes the LGBT community and their allies? You know, to keep the rainbow in the heterosexual community where it belongs? Who knows, but those actors must've been really behind on their rent when they did that commercial.
A few celebrities joined together to strike back against the NOM, and created this parody ad for FunnyOrDie.com:
I've noticed that in February, when I started this blog, I only posted twice. In March, I posted four times. So far this month, I have only posted seven times. It would bug the crap out of me if I didn't post eight, due to the math pattern being created (the number of posts are doubling each month, if you didn't catch on). So, here I am, writing my eighth and final post of April. What better reason to write than for mathematical purposes? Next month, it'll have to be 16 if I want to keep this up. I'm going to have to find some more interesting stuff to write about. Hmm, I'm sensing some OCD tendencies.
This past weekend was a success. Tigerfest was just as I had expected-- that afternoon, as the elevator doors parted for me to step on and make my way to the field where the festivities were occurring, a large pile of pink-orange vomit lay on the floor (and thoughtfully splattered on the walls), nearly causing me to hurl like the undoubtedly intoxicated student before me had done. Instead, I held it in and was perfectly willing to wait for the other elevator.
Seeing as the temperature had surpassed the expected high and made its way into the 90s, I decided maybe it wasn't the best day for donning new dresses. Some friends and I played Frisbee and afterwards headed up the street for Slurpees. We ended up not making it to the festivities till later in the day. Right before the All-American Rejects were supposed to take the stage (and after only one hot dog), they kicked everyone out, thanks to the approaching storm. It seemed like the show might not go on. It was a mob as everyone left the field at once. I tend to hate people in large groups anyway, so this was extra bad. When some random dude grabbed my ass, I lamely shoved him with one hand and kept walking. Tigerfest had quickly taken a turn for the worse.
But, within an hour or so, the storm had passed and everyone was allowed back. The All-American Rejects' set was shortened, but fun nonetheless. There was a nice energy among the crowd, if only because everyone was glad their seven bucks had been worth it.
The next day, I went with Jessica and Justine to see Gavin DeGraw for what was, if I counted correctly, my sixth Gavin show. He played at an intimate venue called the Birchmere just outside of D.C. Honeyhoney, a guy-girl duo from California, opened for Gavin, and they were excellent. She sang lead and alternated between the banjo and violin while he played guitar and the bass drum. Gavin and his new, extremely talented band did not fail to deliver. He played old songs, new songs, and the hits, of course. What he also did that was so great was that he changed up a lot of his songs. Instead of playing "I Don't Want to Be" the same exact way for the millionth time, he gave it a twist, changing the instrumentation. He gave a Bob Marley twist to one of the songs from his last album, and gave the 21-year-old guitarist some nice extended solo time. It was the best Gavin show I've been to yet, and whew baby, they've all been great. More importantly, I finally got to wear one of the dresses.
Now, it's off to pretending to do work and leaving my fresh laundry to wrinkle in the bag. Maybe tomorrow, when it's May, I can get a head start on part one of 16 for the month. Inspire me.
Currently Listening To: "Maneater" - Nelly Furtado
Tomorrow is Tigerfest, which is the coolest (or only cool) thing Towson University does all year. This means that I have to go.
Tigerfest takes place on a large field outside of the university union and consists of live music, food, and-- you guessed it-- drinking, drunk college students. Yaaaay.
I'm sort of excited. But mainly because there's a high of 86 tomorrow, and I'll finally get to wear one of those summer dresses I bought way back over spring break. Really, though, 86 degrees is hot. Combine sweating all over your new dress, not legally being allowed to participate in the beer garden, and your feet occasionally getting stepped on by drunk 'fest-goers, and that can make for just a so-so time.
Still, I'm just glad to have off work for the weekend and have two nights in a row of live music. (I'm going to see Gavin DeGraw on Sunday, too.) The All-American Rejects are the headliners for tomorrow, and while I don't love them, I don't particularly dislike them either. At least I'll be able to sing along to a couple of songs.
I'm thinking that in order to ensure a fun time I will, a) apply sunblock, and b) make regular trips back here to the dorm to maintain a slightly-tipsy state of being (and also to separate myself from the retardation that will surely be taking place).
Pray I find a parking spot and that no one slashes my tires "as a joke."
Currently Listening To: "All Fall Down" - OneRepublic
Fools & Horses is a kickass Baltimore band whose sound-- if it needed to be defined-- could be defined as alternative rock/pop/awesome. I found out about them back in 2006 after they won a contest to open for Bon Jovi in Washington D.C. I, of course, attended this particular show with my dad, not ever having heard of Fools & Horses before.
Overall, that wasn't the greatest night ever. My dad and I thoroughly enjoyed Fools & Horses' set and vowed to check them out, but after Bon Jovi came on, this old, fat, should-be-in-the-mafia guy and his wife who were sitting behind me asked (told) me to sit down. This was not a Righteous Brothers concert. Sit down? I politely apologized and then informed them that I did not want to sit down because I was, well, at a ROCK concert. When I told them this, they proceeded to cuss me (a small, young, fragile girl) out. I stood up for myself (pun intended) and fired right back at them. There might've been an explicative or five on my end, but these people were downright abusive. Throughout the show, they kicked my chair and called my "boyfriend" (uh, my dad) an asshole. Maybe in the dark lighting I looked years beyond my age, and my dad, years before his own, but-- wow. Anyway, on top of these jerks ruining my concert experience, Jon Bon Jovi definitely had a cold (he gets terribly nasal when he's sick), and after the show, I went online only to find out that Heather Locklear filed divorce from Richie Sambora that day. (Richie probably found out not long before I and the rest of the world did. Poor guy didn't see it coming.)
But at least I was introduced to Fools & Horses. Which brings me back to the original point.
Fast forward a couple of years later, to almost a year ago. I was on Fools' Myspace and saw a widget thingy that said the band was looking for an intern. Guess who sent them an email? You can see where this is going. So anyway, now I do things for the band like promoting them on campus or via internet (this post is serving as a wonderful example), occasionally researching out-of-state venues or outlets, and selling merchandise at shows I can make it out to with a couple of other lovely F&H ladies. It's been a great almost-year. I've been to more shows than I can count and have met some awesome people along the way.
The boys went overseas to Asia toward the end of March to play for troops, their families and the locals. They have been blogging about the experience along the way and get back this week. Yeah, I wasn't very timely with that little tidbit, but it'll still make for an interesting read nonetheless. Sounds like they've been having a pretty neat time over there.
If you want to show some SUPPORT (finally tied in the title), you can help the guys score some free CD duplication services, recording time, a new guitar, and lots of Chipotle gift cards for the road, you can go here and make a pledge on their behalf to WTMD 89.7 FM, which is the best radio station I know. It's publicly supported and could really use the help. A minimum donation of $15 will also get YOU two free tickets to the Baltimore Band Bloc Party at the Recher Theatre in Towson, MD on May 9th. Fools and many of the other competing bands will be performing at the show, and the winner of the pledge challenge will be announced there.
So do something USEFUL today and head on over to WTMD's site! I think I provided you with enough links. I appreciate it. The guys will appreciate it. I'll see you at the show.
Currently Listening To: "Wishin' and Hopin'" - Ani DeFranco (from the My Best Friend's Wedding soundtrack)
I watched a pretty cool video on YouTube today. I'd embed it here, but either YT or my computer wouldn't let me copy and paste the whole link. Anyway. It's called the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, and it's basically a "mash-up" video of amateur and professional musicians from around the world coming together to create one whole orchestra. Thousands of people submitted videos of themselves playing whatever instrument it is they play. In February, viewers had the opportunity to vote for their favorite musicians while a panel of judges picked who got to be in the orchestra.
The winners were picked in March, and are performing together as one tonight at Carnegie Hall. But the video above includes many submissions, all put together to create one sound. I'm sure some expert editing, not only of the videos themselves but also of the pitches/tempos etc., was much needed to create such a uniform sound, but that doesn't make it any less cool.
The piece is by famous Chinese composer, Tan Dun, and is called "Internet Symphony, Eroica." Surely this is all some kind of PR ploy for YouTube, but we'll leave ulterior motives for another post. Too bad I didn't take out and dust off my crappy Jupiter clarinet, but I only just found out about this today. And probably wouldn't have actually done it. Yeah, no.
What's this? A banner at the top of the page? Have I become a real, committed blogger now that I've taken the time to combine a picture of myself with a completely unrelated picture of a tree and a less-than-clever (but here to stay) title?
Oh, wow. The pressure's on now.
The more I look at it, the more I realize how stupid it looks and the less impressed I am with my blibs.com creation. But hey, I'm not about to throw down any amount of money for some photo editing program just so I can design banners and occasionally make my skin look flawless for a new Facebook default. (My current picture with guitar god Richie Sambora will never come down, anyway.)
Of course, if anyone's willing to direct me to a free downloadable Photoshop-like program, please do. Better yet, if someone would like to design a banner for me, by all means-- do! It could be a competition of sorts. Winner gets, um, their name out there. Out there to the (now 3!) people that read this. Ride on my coattails to recognition and fame! In the meantime, I'll pretend it doesn't matter that a leafless Arizona tree has nothing to do with me or my blog.
Me, circa 2006, not far from above leafless tree. Excuse the assumed pose.
Currently Listening To: "This is Not the End" - The Bravery
Spring hasn't sprung, but it is springing, and that makes me happy. Ever since the winter solstice on December 21st, I've been watching the sun stay out later and later. Hardly noticeable for the first month or so, but suddenly one day you realize it's 5 p.m. and it's not pitch black outside! Right now, it's 7:15 p.m. on what was a slightly overcast April day, and the sun is still hanging onto the sky. How lovely.
And even though Maryland has had some back-and-forthness in terms of sunny, warm spring weather, there seems to be some promise. Granted, there's been a fair amount of rain and disappointingly chilly days, but today sure was nice. High of 65, light breeze, and the sun finally pushing through toward the late afternoon. Okay, where has my sarcasm gone?! See what this promise of happiness and joy does to my entertainment value? I better draw the curtains if I want to be a real writer one day.
It's just hard to feel stressed out or snarky when you know pretty soon people will be breaking out the shorts and retiring the campus uniform of North Face jackets, Ugg boots, and Leggings. (You'd think "Leggings" was actually a brand name, too, as I have implied with the capitalization of the "l," based on the way the girls here wear them-- leggings do not substitute for pants!!! Okay, must end the parentheses.) But, really. There's something so liberating about not lugging around the puffy winter coat you've been trying to retire for weeks.
The sun seems to officially be setting over the trees, which all have a hint of green about them. The sky is a purple-blue-pinkish color. Ahh, soakin' it in.
Of course, after this post, I can surely expect a torrential downpour and a high of 30 tomorrow.
Tonight, I had bread for dinner. French toast first, because there was truly nothing else I wanted, and then a regular piece of buttered toast for a nice, balanced sweet-n-salty meal. Nothing else. Just some bread, syrup and butter. Who does that? I keep wondering why I feel so icky, and then I become paranoid thinking I have mono (I share a bathroom with a currently mono-infested friend... help me), but then I keep realizing no, I just had an entire day's worth of carbs in one sitting.
I need to get out of here. I so crave balanced meals. What dining hall serves breakfast all weekend long only to serve "Breakfast at Dinner!" the very next week night? Maybe I would've gotten something else, but the turd-like home fries didn't look so great, either.
On the subject of food and disgusting amounts of it, I was at a Lee's Ice Cream/Fractured Prune Sunday morning, and the One-Pound Milkshake was brought to my attention. Maybe I'm not one to judge (I was in the process of eating my third donut), but, would anyone else agree that, well... that's really gross? Doesn't that make your stomach churn just thinking about it?
Before finishing up at the dining hall, I grabbed a banana for breakfast tomorrow. Sadly, the selection included only misshapen, dented nanners. Why bother?
Everyone has that one album or song that they listen to when they're feeling particularly down, mellow, or kickass. I have so many songs (and moods, apparently) like that that I've got 19 different playlists programmed on my iPod. Clearly, I quite enjoy making playlists. Usually, the inspiration to create a new one strikes either when I've just listened to a really good song and want to listen to others like it, or when I've got four chapters to read for P.R. class and would rather mess around on iTunes instead.
Often times, I like to listen to an album in its entirety-- whether I'm in the car, on the treadmill, lying in bed, whatever. That's why they were made. For the songs to be enjoyed in sequence. But when I'm sitting at my computer, doing work or otherwise, I usually tend to put all 4,000 of my songs on shuffle and see what comes up. A lot of times, I'll skip about 20 songs before coming to one I want to hear. Funny how you can turn on the shuffle feature with the intent of hearing something different for once, but end up skipping all that crap until you find the bands you really love.
But playlists are great because they include only the songs you know you love. And if you put enough songs on the playlist and put it on shuffle, it's even better, 'cause while you still don't know what exactly you're going to get next, you know you're already in the mood for it. For instance-- some of my playlist titles are "Acoustic Greatness," "'90s Mix," "Head Bangin' Car Songs," and "Singalong Mix." I've even got a mix dedicated to songs with names in the title. I straight-forwardly called it "Songs With Names." I get pretty bored sometimes.
I think I'll make the twentieth playlist "My Life Soundtrack." So if you ever see me walking on campus with my earphones in and an inspired look about me, that's probably what I'm listening to. Either that, or my "Inspirational Mix."
Today was almost unsettling-ly productive for me (and by that, I mean I went to the gym and got a couple of short assignments done), so I decided I'd really go out on a limb and write for my loyal followers. Or, well, follower. Am I entering over-achiever territory? Possibly. I don't know how I feel about that. I'll let you (you, one reader) know.
Spring Break officially came to an end this past Sunday night, and I was nowhere near ready for it. I had one of the most relaxing and un-productive breaks ever, and it was lovely. Anything to get off-campus, I'm there. I went with the family and my friend, Jessica, to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Jess and I drove separately from my mom, step-dad, two little sisters and one dog, while we took the other dog. Rooooad triiiiip!
Jessica is a great person to drive long distances with. Last summer, we took what should have been a 3 or 4 hour trip to Richmond, VA to see Gavin DeGraw. It took us 6 hours. In stop-and-go traffic pretty much the entire way. You'd think with my panic of realizing I had forgotten my ticket and our collective panic as to whether we'd make it to the show on time, it was a miserable trip. However, it was a very fun bonding experience. We sang along to our staple CDs the whole way there. And we made it with an hour to spare, sitting down to a nice dinner beforehand. The venue so kindly looked me up and printed out another ticket, free of charge.
This road trip was similarly great. Our backs hurt a little more by the end of it, but the iPods lasted the whole way. And, after a scary near-collision on the highway (not my fault), we thought how comically tragic it would've been to die listening to Fools & Horses' "Wide-Eyed Wonder" ("It's a wide-eyed wonder why, oh why, you didn't die...") without anyone ever knowing. The drive really made me realize, though, that I love being on the road. Whether it's with someone else or just me, I love driving. Most importantly, with an endless supply of music. It's good therapy and the best way to keep your mind off of anything.
As for the OBX vacation itself-- well, it was just what I needed: time away from school and human beings in general. (It really felt like we were the only ones there.) There was some rain, and Jess became germ-infestedly sick at one point, but both the sky and Jess' throat cleared up, and by the last day, we got a beautiful day on the beach and pedicures to boot. Ha! Pun intended.
Luckily, coming back to school wasn't as bad as I thought. I'm ready to start planning my summer by looking for jobs and internships, registering for classes, finding cheap furniture for my soon-to-be apartment, and maybe even squeezing in another short vacation. I think I'll wear one of the summer dresses I bought in N.C. to get in the mindset, even if it's still 40 degrees out.
Today, I spent more time than I'd like to admit on fmylife.com. In case you've never heard of it, "Fuck My Life" is a site with all user-submitted content about the hilarious, ironic, embarrassing and downright sad events that happen to people. These short entries are a nice reminder that everyone from your dry cleaning lady to your professor to the person peeing in the stall next to you all have those FML moments. Heck, I have several FML moments a day. Mine usually aren't funny or shocking in retrospect, though. FML.
I got to about the 31st page of FMLs before realizing I'd accomplished absolutely nothing. Here are a few of my favorites.
Today, I called the florist and ordered a flower arrangement for my grandma, who I was told was sick. I said I didn't know what to get her, so just to send her something nice. I got a call from my mom calling me an inconsiderate bastard. They sent my grandma forget-me-nots. She has Alzheimers. FML
Today, after class I was chatting with my teacher, a really cool and stylish old black guy. I tell him he reminds me of one of those soul dudes from those 70s movies, right down to the pimp-walk. He tells me he walks that way because he was beaten for drinking out of the wrong fountain as a kid. FML
Today, I went to online to find out why my midterm grade is for my least favorite class Psychology. After weeks upon weeks of studying and doing work for a class I hate I found out that I have a zero in the class. Turns out I've been going to the wrong psychology class all semester. FML
Today, I found out that the electric nose hair clippers that I've been using for the past two years are in fact my father's pubic hair trimmers. FML
Today, my mom walked in on me masturbating. I minimized the porn on my laptop so she wouldn't see I was watching it. It turns out I was watching an old Beatles concert before I started masturbating. My mom thought I was masturbating to the Beatles. FML
Today, I woke up at my grandparents house since my mom was out of town, still half asleep i went to brush my teeth. Mid brush my mouth started getting numb I looked again at the tooth paste I used..turns out it was my grandpa's anti-itch anal cream. FML
Today, I was writing an email to our entire company regarding a fundraiser we are taking part in for children and adults with disabilities. I was rushing to get the email out and hit send before I realized that instead of "Best Regards" I had typed "Best Retards" as the closing line. FML
Today, I was in spanish class, having a debate about the death penalty. When I went to make a point, I meant to say "La pena de muerte", which means "The death penalty". I said, "La pene de muerte". Turns out that means, "The penis of death". FML
Today, I was having sex with my wife when my 14 year old daughter from her room texts me, "Stop." FML
You know you’ve got a procrastinating problem when you put off doing something that was created with the intent of using it as a procrastination tool. Fail.
I’m talking about this here blog, of course. What “blogger” writes on Thursday and doesn’t post again until the following Wednesday? Six whole days? Now I’ll never get on Good Morning, America. Damn.
It’s not even that I haven’t had anything to write about. There were several points in the past almost-week where I had an Oprah “aha!” moment and thought of a potential topic. Instead, however, I decided to put this off (as well as a school assignment or two) and browse the Gavin DeGraw fan club message boards instead. (Side note: New Gavin album March 31st!)
What’s worse is that in posting this entry about basically nothing, I’m actually putting off writing a real post with actual content. Did you notice that? Probably not. Because no one reads this. So no one noticed. Oh, the lonely life of a blogger.
If you ARE reading this, you’re probably procrastinating, too. I do the same thing—after visiting and re-visiting all of my usual websites, I end up on some incredibly random site that’s really not that interesting but, well… it beats developing time management skills and getting work done ahead of time.
Since this post is coming to an end and you’re wondering what to do next, here’s a video, courtesy of about five people I know now, to watch over and over. Related videos are fun, too.
Not long before the start of this blog, I was inspired to dig out some of my old, hand-written journals. Most of them, excluding the lock-and-key type diaries from the pre-complete sentences days, were composition books. The first one spans from grades fifth through eighth, most of its pages written with those once-popular milky pens, my handwriting changing throughout as I made constant efforts to "prettify" it. The very first page warns (spelling and grammar errors included):
If you dare open this notebook, boy you're asking for it! Even if you're a best friend, don't go any further! If you're a worst enimy or not a friend, I'll report you! I'm warning you, if I find you with this, or if I find out at all, you'll be sorry! I would reccomend you should shut this journal immediatly! Now! I'll find you! You better put this back in my backpack or desk now! I could be coming any minute and I'll kick your butt! Good-bye! Alright, I'm gonna catch you and don't say I didn't warn you! Don't come crying to me when you have a talk with the princapal or vice-princapal, go!
Clearly, I was scarred by the time not long before this was written that a classmate found and read my previous diary, and revealed my uber crush to the class, and, more importantly, to my crush. Oh, the memories. What's funnier, though, is that I went back a couple of years later and commented in the margins on the page, in all my milky pen-ness, writing things such as, "That is sooo retarded!" and "Wasn't I messed up?! LOL." At least I spelled "retarded" right. I think at one point within the diary, I actually explain to my future self what acronyms such as lol and ttyl mean. You know, in case I were to ever go senile.
Several pages later, I write an entry titled "Spying." In it, I'm creeping on kids in the class, describing their every move:
Amanda-- Getting all discusted over a weird-looking penut butter and jelly sandwitch Brandon-- Also discuted
Amanda always has this stupid look on her face. Her nose crinkles up and her eyes squint tightly. It looks so idiotic! She also stuffs her bra.
Linda doesn't want to be Jocelyn's friend so she told her. Jocelyn begged her to be her friend so Linda said okay. Linda still doesn't like her.
You can't make this stuff up.
After I started this blog, I was inspired to find my old Xanga page and re-read all of those entries, too. These were even more painful (if not slightly more entertaining) to read, since they were written from middle school to parts of high school. I was at the peak of my Bon Jovi craze--for the record, I am still obssessed--when this online journal began, so there'd be the occasional post in which I'd talk about how depressed and miserable I was, worried there was nothing in life to look forward to, and end it with a seemingly ADD-induced "I LOVE BON JOVIIII!!!!!!!1" In later entries, I'd give (almost) every detail about how my then-boyfriend and I spent our one- and three- and five-month anniversaries and that we were so-ho-ho in love. I bet even my best friends didn't read that drivel.
It's always fun discussing your past selves with friends-- sharing stories about all the dramatic and awkward times, separating your current self from your past self, playfully poking fun at who you used to be. But if a younger version of me were standing right next to me, I think I'd be a little nicer. Maybe give myself a hug, then hand her/me a matching outfit.
As I was just finishing, the Corrs' "Breathless" came on my iTunes shuffle. My best friend and I tried out for the talent show in sixth grade to this song, braces and all. For the auditions, we brought in bean bag chairs, acting out a skit with telephones to our ears reciting lines like, "I think he LIKES me!" before bursting into song along with the Corrs. We didn't make the cut. We are still best friends, though. Guess we did something right.
Post partially inspired by authorJohn Green'svlog about his old diary:
Well, here 'tis. My first blog post. Funny how you can spend hours--days?--trying to decide on the layout of a blog. The colors, fonts, "gadgets." (I really like the gadgets.) But as for the content? Not a whole lot of thought has gone into that part yet. (Can you tell? The title is, afterall, "Witty Title Here.") I've had ideas. I'd like to hope I have some interesting things to say, but I don't think I can be one of those bloggers who writes about one certain topic every day.
My first thought was to write about music. Music is a love of mine. My biggest. It seems like every other day, I find a band or song I've never heard before, but kind of like. And despite this and the fact that I visit music sites every day, attend concerts fairly regularly, and am what Fools & Horses (more on them later, I'm sure) call their intern, I don't think this blog would be very good if it was only about music. Maybe it won't be good either way.
Another thought was pop culture in general. Pop culture interests me, to an extent. I spend way too much time on YouTube, and was just on Failblog for about an hour. I indulge in a plethora, a MYRIAD, of pointless websites. But why only post things other people have already posted?
Maybe my blog could be about the trials and tribulations of a college student-- "Dweller of the Dorms." Innovative. I could write about how, in the middle of writing this blog, my suitemate/friend came to visit. In the five minutes she was here, I discovered a piece of a Cool Ranch Dorito in my bellybutton. I showed it to my suitemate. She told me not to eat it (this hadn't crossed my mind until she mentioned it), so I ate it. Soon afterwards, said suitemate left to poop in our shared toilet. Ah, dorm life.
Honestly, most blogs are probably completely irrelevant. I know there are lots of writers out there starting a blog hoping it'll maybe somehow capture the attention of tens, then hundreds, then thousands of followers, and then, before they know it, they're being interviewed on Good Morning America. Well, it doesn't get much better than that. But, I'm not one of those bloggers. I doubt I'll get more than ten followers, like... ever. Luckily, this is mostly for my own enjoyment. My creative release, if you will.
So, I think I'll write about all of these things and more. Post the occasional link, photo, video, whatever I find important or stupidly funny. And when I'm feeling self-indulgent, I'll write about myself, damnit. 'Cause I can.
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