Friday, December 17, 2010

It's Christmas break. It's been Christmas break for... 2 days now.

....can I go back to school now?

Saturday, December 11, 2010

I can't imagine that any other time of the year is quite as productive as finals week. At some time, students around the world are actually studying. Probably during the 12 hours before the final, like me. The remainder of the time, however, is not any less productive. I see on facebook that many Snake and Cubefield scores are being boosted to new high scores, I have learned more about the most random things - like the conspiracy theory that the Japanese were aided by aliens in WWII, my room has never been cleaner than it is right now, I finished the 4th Harry Potter again, AND I keep finding these funny little internetisms, like the one above. I really don't think any other time of the year is this productive. Sure, it's really stressful with the whole finals part of finals week, but during all that time that you aren't studying or worrying or actually taking the finals, you're accomplishing so much while you procrastinate!


But really, I shouldn't be writing this post. I should be making flashcards.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

friends and tests

"Oh, and I'm bringing Kyle with me; he's lonely."

Story of my life. For a while now, anyway. Sorry to reiterate myself so many times, but I still feel like I have one friend, and that most of my friends are really his friends, or just some acquaintances of mine.

But maybe I'm thinking about this all wrong. Maybe I just need to grow up and realize that everyone has their separate lives and high school friends and college friends are different. It's not high school, where we're all in the same little building for 7 hours every day. It's like the differences between high school teachers and professors.. in high school, they knew your name, and could probably even remember it the next year if you said hi to them in the hallway. In college, it's a miracle if they know your name in the first place. Friends could be the same way. I had friends that I was forced into a building with all day every day, so it made sense that I saw them all the time and they learned all about me and learned who I was, whether they liked it or not, over the course of 4 or 7 or 8 years. Now.... no one is being forced into contact with me, and I'm not being forced into contact with anyone else, so I end up alone, because no one taught me how to go make friends without the crutch of schoolwork to do together.

How did my very best friend and girlfriend meet me? Well, more like really get to know me. 8th grade science. We sat together in comfy armchairs and I stole her colorful pens and copied her notes. It helped that we had the same group of friends and a few other classes, but we wouldn't really know each other without school. Without class. Without that crutch.

I'm just coming to realize that it's my fault I don't have friends here in college. Sorry to drag all of you into it. Ethan, when you read this, please remember you're the exempt exception from this whole rant.

On a different topic, I got through my first final today. It was geology... the easiest class I'm taking this semester. It was a nice ease into the final week. My two fellow trumpets and I sat up in the back of the auditorium and took the test as one mind. It helps that the professor is really dumb when it comes to making the test. We all had different forms, but all the questions were the same, all the answers were in the same places, and all the questions were in the same order. The only thing he changed up was the order of the different sections of the test - like, the multiple choice and the diagram sections. Anyway, simply put, we found a way pretty quickly around his different forms, and then took the test all together. Yeah, its cheating, but I'm a business major and that's a geology class. I just need the grade. Unfortunately, the test I have tomorrow isn't so.... forgiving. I'm going to get raped by this thing. About 3 times the information, with it being 5 times harder to study for, since all the info isn't in the powerpoints, and cheating would be.... well, it wouldn't go over well. The teacher's a lot more intelligent when it comes to making tests and test questions too, so it'll be much more specific information that the kids on either side of me won't be able to help with. Geology had very straight forward questions that were verbatim out of a powerpoint he gave us. This test won't be nearly as simplistic.

So, with that said, I'm gonna go study for said test instead of wasting my life on Blogspot some more.

Happy Finaling

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

I stepped in dog shit.

The title of this doesn't have anything to do with the rest of the post. I just felt like sharing.

Although, now that I think of it, I'll expand on it just a bit. I'm sitting in a little cubicle in the library, "studying" for my final that's tomorrow in geology. It's really hard to concentrate when the smell of dog crap is drifting up from your right shoe.

I got it when I went to Common Grounds - the little coffee shop just off campus. I didn't realize I had stepped in it until now. How, I don't know, but yeah. I was there listening to my friend play at open mic night... they did a Christmas show. He wasn't very good. He's usually pretty okay, but then again, he's usually playing his own music, which fits his style a lot more.

He's... I dunno. Not really my friend. He's one of the other trumpets in marching band. We know each other. That's about it. Maybe we'll get a step closer to friends during the bowl game trip... we're rooming together. They asked me, which surprised me. I guess I get to replace the girl in their little circle of friends, since she obviously can't room with them.... go Baylor. So, I'm better than Hoss, the kid everyone talks bad about behind his back, so my guess is that they wanted to fill up their room as fast as possible before he asked, because then they'd have to say yes. Maybe I'm being a pessimist, but that's probably the thought going through their heads.

Anyway, I should go back to studying for real, instead of procrastinating with Blogspot and scraping dog shit off my shoe with my other shoe in between thoughts.

Good luck with finals everyone!

Monday, December 6, 2010

Hey Kyle, how's life?


Tonight was the band banquet. If you’ve never been in band, you wouldn’t understand, but basically, all band banquets are the same. Dress nice to the point where the band kids don’t recognize each other (we’re usually all sweaty and gross. Dressy and clean is a nice change I guess), get served salad, chicken of some kind, then cheese cake, listen to directors speeches and other awards and presentations, watch the end-of-year-video, take a million pictures. This is pretty standard, I think. It was between high school and Baylor anyway.

Last year, I was at the fun table where all of us were good friends with each other. We were all weird together and it was okay. We had pretty much coordinated our table before we got there. I got a few references. I was in the video. I got my turn at the podium to give a speech. I was section leader. I was…. important, I guess. Tons of people wanted pictures. I was in my niche.

This year was a little bit different. I got all dressed up and I did my fair share of double takes when I showed up – alone. I didn’t know who I was going to sit with. My section, I guessed. I was right, but it took awhile to find a seat. I tried to start a trumpet table, but no one joined, so I got back up and joined a different one. I got mentioned once during all the talking, and that was as a freshman representative on band council. That’s something, I guess, but I didn’t get on next year’s council as the position I ran for… I guess I’ll have to try for class rep next year. Every one got up at the end and rushed to their separate groups… I was suddenly alone in the middle of this crowded room. I don’t have a group of friends in band. I’m not in a group. I really, really hope K Psi fixes that issue – because it really is an issue. I hated being the drifter again. I’ve done this so many times in so many situations, but I never imagined it happening in band. I was in the trumpet picture and my squad picture, but after that, I was in 2 pictures, I think. I hate to complain about not being popular and sounding like a whiny pre teen or whatever, but I’m just comparing last year and this year. After a little bit I just got sick of being the kid that wasn’t really part of whichever group I was trying to be part of, so I left.

I laughed during the presentations and videos, I got the jokes, I felt like part of the band, but I felt like a rejected nobody in the band. It was the most depressing band banquet I’ve been to in the last 5 band banquets.

On the bright side, I signed a pre-lease for an apartment at Baylor Plaza II today and got that damn ticket paid (only to find a parking ticket when I got back to my car. Just my luck). So how’s life, you ask? Just peachy. I have somewhere to live next year. But other than that, I have finals to stress over and study for like mad, I have no friends, I have a parking ticket, I have to PAY for the pre-lease tomorrow (another $150 out of my pocket. Party on), I have… just so much shit in my life right now. I can’t wait for Christmas break.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

just...stuff

I don't really know what I want to say in this post. Nothing exciting is happening, so there's nothing too cool to talk about. But... I don't know... I need to express myself somewhere, and this is my outlet. This blog is where I vent, and it's so appropriately named for my constant rambling.

Every once in a while I should probably take a step back and decide what I'm doing with this blog. I only have 14 followers, so it's not like I'm doing this for other people's benefit (not to say I don't appreciate all my followers and love that you guys care what I say. Thanks to all of you a million and two times). I like to think of this as my place to say whatever I want and not be judged. Or be judged and just not care. This is my little fulfillment of that 3 year old instinct to be the center of attention. This blog is where I can post funny things, talk about sad thoughts, entertain odd ideas, ramble about my day, and just generally talk. I don't do that anymore. In high school I had a group of friends that generally thought the same way I did and we could all ramble together and get each other just fine; we'd find something funny and everyone else thought it was just as funny. Now, it's like I don't have any friends who think the same way I do, save one, and he gets the full force of my ramblings. And even he isn't quite the same as my old group.

( I really don't even know what I'm saying. I had this same problem in high school; its just worse now. Maybe I'm making all this up. I don't know.)

I have 'friends' here at Baylor, but they're just friends of convenience. My roommates, a few classmates, some friends that are really Ethan's... but no one I confide in. No one I can sit and talk to about a personal problem I'm having. Ethan's basically it. Ethan and you, who willingly listen to me talk about whatever I feel like, which very often includes personal issues of mine.

Where I go wrong is when I start to treat this blog more like a personal diary than a place to rant in public for others. I stop talking about myself and start to talk about other people. I don't mind telling you guys about my problems; I like that people listen. I forget, occasionally, that others don't appreciate being so transparent. I overlook the concept of privacy, forgetting that anyone can come read this thing. I like sharing my thoughts on here, but sometimes - I now realize - I just shouldn't.

I talk about currently sensitive subjects, like fights or people I'm mad at, that deserve closer attention and more privacy than a public blog for all of Earth to come read. In this place of my musings and rants and thoughts, I still need a filter.

Anyway, with all that said, I still haven't gotten to the point of the post. I said earlier I need to express myself, even without anything exciting going on. I feel exceedingly lonely. I have an amazing girlfriend. She's my best friend in the whole world and I love her so much... but she goes to school in Arkansas. I see her... not enough. I think I'd be okay if we weren't 5 and a half hours away from each other, but as it is, I'm pretty lonely. She's still there, what with the glory of teh interwebz, but I'm not great with long distance relationships. I don't like them. She's worth every mile of it, but it's not easy on me. I feel like that's going to be the best part about Christmas - being within walking distance of Anna.

But it's not just loneliness that's getting me right now. It's this overpowering lack of happiness. The lonely bit may be a large contributing factor to the unhappy bit, but it's not all of it. At the beginning of the year, it was just lonely. This is something more. I can't pinpoint it though. I'm just not... happy.

I have a friend here. I have a friend back in Coppell. I have a girlfriend in Arkansas. I have great grades, a great schedule. I get to sleep 10 or 11 hours a day - like, my life dream to this point. I have no doubt that I have a major - or at least general study - that I enjoy enough to stick with. Life shouldn't be bad. But... it is. Ideas? Anyone?

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

So the past few days have been rough. I've been... not doing so okay.

I know exactly where it started... on the way back after Thanksgiving break (that I went through minus a computer, since I'm an idiot and left my charger in my dorm room), I got a speeding ticket in good old Milford, Texas. Just 5 minutes later, I hit a wall of Thanksgiving traffic that went 15 miles an hour for an hour and a half, so the speeding didn't really pay off at all. I hate Karma.

Getting a ticket sucks. That dropping feeling in your stomach when you see the cop put the radar gun down and get in his car as you pass him, that horrible feeling when you realize that he's not going for the red truck that was going just as fast next to you, that drop of any hope when officer Stevens comes back to your car with a piece of paper instead of a nice verbal warning... But the part that REALLY sucks is dealing with it. Actually paying it and taking defensive driving and going through all the loopholes to keep it off your record and as far from the insurance people as possible. That's the tricky part. Getting the ticket is nice and straight forward, if nothing else.

So after that awful drive back to college, I had to study for a test that was this past Tuesday. Now, I have finals to study for (kinda freaking out about that...), books to sell, new books to buy, and a housing situation to figure out.

Housing was tonight. I made a spreadsheet. Baylor is insisting on people reapplying for on campus housing in the next 2 weeks for next year. It really caught me off guard, since it's just so ridiculously early, and that just REALLY helped my stress level. But I found stuff tonight and put it all in a spreadsheet and found a nice apartment that Ethan and I can live in for less than it costs to live in Penland - the crappiest dorm on campus - right now. It's not ideal...it'll be really cramped, since it's meant for one person, but ANYTHING is better than this dump. The place I want to live is about a thousand dollars more a year to live in, and that's really not that much in the big scheme of things, and maybe being able to cook for myself will offset the cost. Anyway, this whole house hunting thing got my mind off of everything, and it ended with a pretty decent outcome, so it put me in a good enough mood to write this thing.


But after a bit of a fight with a friend, I started thinking about all my friends, and about how none of them attend the school I'm at, save one. Ethan's here, but everyone else I consider a friend is off at some other university or stuck in Coppell for another year of high school. I'm social, but it doesn't mean I have friends.

I'm hoping KKΨ will help. It's the band service fraternity. When you think fraternity, this is not what you think. Mandatory study sessions and doing all the grunt work for the marching band are not exactly common activities in the party frats. The people in this thing are band geeks, not preppy frat boys. So all it really entails is making really close friends and serving the band, two things I really like. I'm running for a spot on band council again for this next year, so why not be in KKΨ too? It's not even as much as they had the leadership do in high school, so really, what could be so bad about it? Anyway, it sounds like lots of fun and an easy way to make friends that I'll keep.

So yeah, that's life. A lot of shit and a small handful of things to look forward to.

(If I survive these next two weeks, I'll make sure to post extra during the break)

Happy December and merry Christmas month.

Monday, November 29, 2010

I feel awful right now.

I don't want to explain it. It's my blog, so what I say goes.

I just felt like telling someone that I feel like shit in every way possible.

Maybe I'll explain if my mood ever improves and I don't have a test to cram for.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Harry.

So I saw HP7 part 1 again. I really feel like I should write about it. I'm such a ridiculous Harry fan. I don't have the money to go show it with nifty glasses and a set of robes and all the proper books like A History of Magic and a pet owl or anything, really, except the book themselves. But I think that's enough really.

But here lies the problem. As I got older, I had less time to myself. I, of course, made time to lock myself in a room for 8 hours and read the book the day it came out. The time scale went something like, go to midnight opening, get book at 12:10 after waiting VERY impatiently in a line at B&N, take book from person, throw money at person and hope its enough, sit on ground, read chapter one, go home at 12:30ish, reading chapter two by overhead light in the car, much to the dissatisfaction of my mother, who was trying to drive safely, get to room at 12:45, read until I pass out at 5:30, sleep for 4 hours, wake, go to bathroom, read, read, read, read, finish around 6, GO PEE, eat something for the first time all day, then SLEEP. That day was my own. There was no nonfictional human interaction. But again, as I got older, I didn't have time to do that multiple times, like for the first few books. I could reread them whenever I wanted. But with age came a proper social life, and my attention shifted.

In summary, I only read the 7th book once.

Call me a wannabe if you must, but I do consider myself a loyal fan. And as such, since seeing the movie, I have decided a rereading is in order, to get a proper and fresh perspective. I'm starting with 5, since that's when the social life started. I've only read it cover to cover twice, I think. The details are fuzzy, and that sucks. When I can't remember what happened and the book is exciting simply because I don't know what comes next (except very generally), I know I need to be reading it. I expect better of myself. I should know the books scene for scene, chapter for chapter, given my level of interest. These books are more to me than simple books. These (you ready for this?) are a seven part gateway to another world. To a place where magic is real. To a place where Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and all of the other characters, have perfectly realistic traits, relationships, and struggles.

These are the core things the movies fuck up so badly, by the way.

The reason I love the books is because the characters are so real. They act like teenagers. They ARE teenagers. Harry gets pissed off like a teenager. They have high school drama like real teenagers. They have that whole Voldemort thing and something about magic, but the inside magic jokes aren't what keep me reading. The way the characters connect with one another, the way Dobby cares SO much for Harry, the way Ron and Hermione fight for six and a half books before getting together, the way Harry tears apart Dumbledore's office in a few pages where the caps lock key was in full swing... these are the things that make the Harry Potter Universe real. The things they go through are completely plausible, just minus the setting and general plot, and I love it.

And the movies rely completely on the setting and plot. They miss the good stuff, nearly entirely. I'll give them some credit... they tried sometimes. They have scenes like where Fred and George bring a little piece of Hell to Umbridge, but even that scene wasn't what it was in the book. But somethings, they just really mess up.

And completely unnecessarily. Example time. So, sorry if you didn't know, but Snape kills Dumbledore. It really does happen. (I wonder if Jo added those names to her dictionary on Word...that little red line would get SO annoying. I'll bet she did it in the first few pages for Dumbledore.) And in the book, Harry is frozen in place under an invisibility cloak because Dumbledore froze him. He was fighting with every ounce of his body and mind to cry out and distract the death eaters, to make them follow him, to fight them, to stop what was happening. To ACT. To do ANYTHING. Because that's who Harry is. It's just in his nature. He has to act. He needs to DO something. So how did this translate to movie Harry? The invisibility cloak (a perfectly good prop that has been basically missing since the first movie - issue for part two, much) is gone; he might as well be in plain sight of the death eaters. Snape comes and hushes him, and he doesn't curse him with anything, which is unlike him. He stands and watches, silently and unrestrained, as Snape kills Dumbledore. Just all on his own. Now, I have to ask, DID THE DIRECTORS READ THE BOOK AT ALL? They completely missed it. And it's not something that would take more time. If it's not time that is being lost, is it just cinematic effect? Will da wittle awdeeunce membuhs not get it if wittle harry is undah da cwoke or fwozen in pwace? Aww, poor awdeeunce. Seriously? Is it too much to ask for a little intelligence from the audience? You don't have to dumb everything down. I can't wait for someone to come and remake these movies someday... properly.

Now, all that said, the first half of the 7th book-to-movie experience was not painful. It was pretty accurate, as far as I can remember at the moment (again, this movie made me realize I REALLY need to go reread the book), leaving out some details, but nothing huge. They're getting the emotions right, the relationships right, the scenes right, the damn story right, which, sadly, is something of note for this movie series... all in all, this one was very accurate to the book, I think. More so than any of its predecessors, anyway. They should have split up every book starting with the fourth one.

I'm sure I'll have something more to say about it after I'm done with the reread. I'll keep yall posted, obviously. (For a quick example, I'm on chapter 9 of book 5. Lets go over book to movie: chapter 1, done completely wrong. Chapter 2 was a grand 10 seconds with awful interpretation. Chapter 3, more stupid mistakes that could have been so easily avoided. Chapter 4, wrong. Screaming teen turns into perfectly calm person. Need a specific example of stupid? Jo makes a point to say there's no headline news about Harry, but there he is, front effing page, in the movie. Like he has no idea how to buy a paper. 12 Gimmauld? set is all wrong. Chapter 5? Another 10 seconds. 6? Absent. 7? Down right stupid how off they are. 8? Not bad, actually. One little mess up: they totally screw up Dumbledore's attitude. His argument didn't nearly seem as awesome as it was in the book. 9? Absent. This is just sad. It's downright pitiful. Of the 9 chapters, ONE of them was decently in line with the book, and even then they had a major character flaw.)

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving. :]

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

How do I manage this?

How is it that I can do this to myself? I surround myself with unhappy people. I'm a magnet for depression. Most of my best friends are badly depressed.

I know this sounds horrible, but its not. I'm not complaining about having to deal with their problems, and I'm definitely not complaining about them. The people I'm talking about right now are people I am so happy that I know and am friends with. I wouldn't be the same person without them, and I'm better for knowing them.

No, what I'm complaining about is myself. They come tell me about their depression. They tell me what's going on. And I appreciate that they trust me so much that they're letting me in.

But I feel so useless. I can hardly relate with what they go through.... sure, I can relate to some things. I'm not completely unaware of what unhappiness is. But that doesn't make me any better at helping them. I feel so completely useless, just sitting there listening, with nothing at all productive to say. I don't have the answers. And I feel like since 6 or 7 of my friends have been struggling with depression for as long as I've known them, and many of them much longer, I should have SOMETHING to tell them. I should have answers. If they're going to go out on a limb and tell me what's going on in their lives and minds (and quite honestly, what they tell me is never what a friend wants to hear, but I'm glad they tell me anyway), I should have something to tell them after they rant for half an hour. Something that actually helps, that isn't insincere and cliche....

I don't know what to tell them. I'm awful with words. I can't express to them properly how much I care about them and I can't give them that love. They don't see in themselves what I see in them, and I don't know how to get them to believe how awesome they are. How much of a difference they make in my life. If I could only impart to them how much of  a difference they are making in my life, if I could only help them realize how awesome they truly are, I feel like that little bit could be my contribution of happiness in their life, because it's something they should be happy about.

Or maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I'm wrong. But if I felt like I was making a difference in others' lives and that someone thought I was a good person, I would feel better about myself.

The best I can do is try and sympathize with them, and that never works out, since I'm the worst when I'm feeling down. I turn to all kinds of things I shouldn't, none of which are at all productive. I run away from my problems with all the things D.A.R.E. tried to scare us away from. I go try and forget my problems instead of facing them, and that isn't an answer either. That's not the kind of advice I would want someone to give me. I know how to run away. That's not the kind of person I want to encourage them to be. But... I don't know anything else. How do I help someone when I'm no better? When I'm no closer to happiness? The only difference is that I'm content with running away and hiding from the problems.

Again, I feel like I'm being stupid. Like someone with depression will read this and just laugh at me and my ignorance. I don't even know. I just know that someday, I'm going to snap and suddenly, running away won't be enough, and then I'll be the one ranting to a friend and putting them in a spot where they just sit and grimace with the uncomfortable useless feeling.

I have a paper to write. I need to stop ranting.
Any help? Anyone besides who this post is about? (Sorry, it wouldn't make sense if you tried to help :-/ )

At the library


I've realized something. The library is a place of wonder and fun. Study desks are the new bathroom stall walls. I mean that in the cleanest way possible. Currently, I'm clearly sitting in Karaline's (or Kareline, or Karoline...I'm not too sure) desk here on the third floor. I don't think she'll mind. She's not here right now. But, honestly, "Karaline studies here" is definitely not the most interesting thing written around here. Many slurs about other frats that clearly suck and phone numbers for good times can be found here as well. So many initials and faces and bad words and pictures.

It's actually fairly deserted here in the library, relatively. It's usually packed around this time. It's only like, midnight. But then again, tomorrow is the last day before break. Lots - LOTS - of people went home early. Either their classes tomorrow got canceled (luckies) or they just said fuck it and went home anyway. Skipping the class before Thanksgiving break isn't going to kill their grade. I'd do it too, if I didn't have 10% of my philosophy class due tomorrow. I get to turn in an editorial and do a presentation over it to the class. It sounds a lot worse than it is, really. I wrote about enforcing a stronger dress code here. Easy to write about, but I fully disagree with nearly everything I wrote. The last thing I want is a stricter dress code. That sounds awful. But, I justified trading a good grade for hating myself for a bit. 

So I saw HP7 at midnight, but I want to see it one more time before I write a full blog post about it. It's been a few days and I feel unprepared to write about it properly. And it's been a long time since I've read the book. But initial reaction? I liked it SO much more than the last 5 movies. Favorite of them all, but the first one's still pretty awesome. I was pretty mad at 2 - 6, just because their respective books got so badly slaughtered by the poor cinematography. I just hope they got the 2nd half right too.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

spring classes, sleeplessness, zombies, and harry potter

Last night was registration. Technically, it was this morning, I guess.

Registration for spring classes was at 6 AM, and its a mad rush to see how fast you can put in course IDs and hit enter, because with all the other classes having done this already, the choices are pretty slim, and everyone wants the same 7 seats in that one class, whatever it is. Basically, the difference of 3 or 4 seconds can mean getting the class or not. So I wasn't going to risk oversleeping, as I tend to do, so I just didn't sleep at all.

Sounded like a great idea about 24 hours ago. Now that its 2 in the afternoon, I really do regret it. But on the bright side, something awesome happened at about 3:30 last night (this morning?) that gets to be recalled here.

So, Ethan and I went to the library for a change of scenery (and because my computer froze up, so no more Southpark). We went downstairs to the big 24 hour study room with a bunch of computers and whatnot, and we sat down at a few macs.

Oh, what's this? A purple flash drive? Left and abandoned? It could have a virus on it... they tell us not to pick up flash drives that we find and put them in computers because people are jerks and put viruses on them...... but its not my computer! Ah HA.

So I did... out of curiosity to see what was on it more than anything. A single file was saved on UNKNOWN, the drive, called 01.pdf (such specific names, I know)

I knew then and there what had to be done. The story must not be left unfinished!

So the next hour and a half was left to writing the following story, using the 4 sentences on the left side of the picture as a starting point. When I ran out of time, since I had to go hurry back to my room to unfreeze my computer before 6, I saved the story back onto the flash drive just under the picture, and left it there, just as it was.

One little disclaimer... please excuse any blatant errors and/or horribleness.... it WAS 4 in the morning, after all, and I was super jacked up on caffeine. So, without further ado, the impromptu story that came from a delusional mind this morning:




            My father called in the middle of class on Thursday. He left a voicemail, followed by a text which read, “Kirsten’s in Hillcrest Rm 543.”
            In a frenzy I ran to the bathroom to call my best friend’s mother.
            Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot at Hillcrest and rushed to the fifth floor.

            I had heard the stories on the news, but I never thought it would reach me or my family, much less my baby sister. I hoped to God that this wasn’t another case. It just couldn’t be. The last one on the news was in Pittsburg. I knew the symptoms… my cultures class was reading all about the cases in the Times.
            I hit the 5 in the elevator repeatedly. It felt so slow. While the elevator slowly crawled up the building with 4 horrifically pleasant ‘ding’s, I silently prayed that it wasn’t this awful flu that was spreading so quickly. There haven’t been any survivors in a week of this outbreak, and the doctors and scientists are still baffled at the symptoms. They’ve never seen anything like it.
            I ran down the hall as soon as the doors opened. After accidently bumping a cart and pushing past somebody in a white lab coat, I started looking up at the numbers above the door. 525… 530… 540… here. I stared at the door, then closed my hand around the knob and prayed one last, desperate prayer, then pushed the door open.
            My family was already here. Dad was holding Kirsten’s hand, and everyone else, including my best friend and his mom, looked near tears. I looked down at Kirsten.
            It was worse than I had imagined. It was unmistakably the very same disease that CNN was covering, that the Times was covering, the whole media was covering for the last week.
            She didn’t even look like my sister. She was 9 years old, but she looked like 50. Her skin was a light gray color, her hair matted and discolored like her skin. Her eyes… oh God, it hurt to look into them… were completely lifeless; they were so vacant. There was blood behind her head on the hospital pillow. Her ear… it was bleeding. It looked like something had taken a bite out of it.
            “Dad…”
            He turned and looked at me with a painful expression on his face.
            “Yes, son, she’s got that flu. The doctors say she has a day or two left.”
            He looked over my shoulder. The lab coat guy had hurried back into the room with something that looked like lab equipment out of a science fiction movie and attached it to Kirsten’s arm, inserting a needle into her vein. I couldn’t watch. I had to leave.
            I sat in the lobby by the elevators down the hall, head down in my hands. Staring at the floor, I listened to the tv in the corner…
            “…turn to Hilary Turner in Waco, Texas, where case 14 has been officially identified.”
“Thanks, Bill. Kirsten Richards, age 9, has been declared the 14th recipient of this mysterious Flu. Authorities say there is still no news as to how this Flu has traveled across the country so fast, but the symptoms are perfectly consistent in every case. Irritated, vacant eyes, discolored skin, a bite looking injury that is red and irritated, and a comatose-like demeanor, reducing the victims to moaning as their sole form of communication…”
            At the word ‘victim,’ I lost it. I broke down in sobs. How could this happen to Kirsten? She’s just 9 years old. The perfect athlete, the perfect student. She’s just starting out her new season of soccer. They just got back from their first….
            Oh God. They just got back a few days ago from their preseason match in Oklahoma. Who did she meet? Who had the flu? Were the other girls infected? How fast does it spread? Is it airborne?
            So many questions, but no answers at all…
            It was nearing 11 at night when I finally drifted off in the lobby chair, still thinking about all the unanswered questions and possibilities. When I woke the next morning, I couldn’t help but to go check on Kirsten.
            It had gotten worse. The irritation around her ear had spread across her face to her cheek, and her lips and nose had started to scab. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and she was continuously moaning. It sounded painful. With tears in my eyes, I looked up at my father, who just stared back with the same pained expression as before, but with a new sense of exhaustion.
            “The researchers told us about 15 minutes ago… they’ve reduced the time. She has about an hour. She..”
            His words were caught in his throat as he started crying. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry before. It was too much to handle, I had to retreat back to the lobby.
            The tv hadn’t changed.
            “…and even so, astounding news has just surfaced in Virginia, where case 1 died just 2 days ago. Sources say that during the funeral of Mr. James Henderson, 43, Mr. Henderson’s body began moving and… wait, we’re getting live coverage from Lisa Chang, the reporter covering the story… Lisa?”
            I perked up. That couldn’t be right. I looked at the tv, but ignored whatever that little five-foot-nothing Ms. Chang was saying. All I could focus on was the hysteria behind her. Mr. Henderson was clearly staggering around in the cemetery, trying to get a hold of the friends and family that had gathered to see him put to rest. What was once James Henderson was now limping toward the camera. In the instant before the feed was lost, the camera captured the holes in Henderson’s flesh, the dead look of his skin, and the blood red eyes.
            As the feed returned to the anchors, those horrible, red eyes were stuck in my mind. They looked… hungry.
            Could this be my sister next? How many people had not been found? Was Henderson really number one?
            Was my sister really only case 14?
            I couldn’t see my sister become that. I had to get out of there, but I couldn’t leave Dad and everyone else. I ran back into 543 and retold the news story in a squished 15 seconds.
            “AndthatswhywehavetoleaveRIGHTNOW,” I finished with a gasp.
            My dad stared at me with a different expression now. It was one of anger, but of astonishment and horror at the same time.
            “You can’t be serious, can you? You want us to leave Kirsten here? Alone? On her deathbed? Drake, you’re welcome to leave, but I’m staying right here with your little sister.”
            “Dad, you don’t understand. She won’t be Kirsten in a day. She’ll be…. Something else…”
            “Drake. Don’t be ridiculous. This is your sister.”
            “No, Dad, you don’t understand. We have to leave now.
            With no more words, my father dismissed my hysterics and turned back to Kirsten, taking her gray, decaying hand in his and brushing her hair with his hand. The lock of hair he rubbed came out without a fight. He stared at it for a moment before turning back to me.
            “She’s only going to be with us for another half hour. Surely you can wait with me and be with her when she…. When she…” He broke off in a sob once again.
            It became very apparent I wasn’t swaying anyone’s opinion here. The remaining bodies in the room silently stared at the conversation that had taken place and were decidedly staying with Kirsten. I sighed, turned, and left.
            Having nowhere else to go, I went back to my apartment just off campus. My roommate left a note on the door that he was visiting a sick relative in Dallas and should be back in a day or two. I ate lunch, turned on the tv, and sat. I had to get my mind off of this. Spike TV should have done the trick, except all the stations had the same thing on. Seriously? 24/7 coverage on every channel of the Flu. There was no escaping it. Victims 2, 3, and 4 had followed Henderson. But the story had grown. The newly animated corpses were eating people. Tearing them open and eating them. Apparently some got away with only a scratch or a bite, and still others were getting away without any harm.
            Edwin Thompson was interviewed about his mother, Case 3. Thompson had been bitten and was showing the cameras.
            “She done got me on my arm, just here. Look, see? Took a right big chunk outta my arm. Hurts like a bitch, it does. I just dunno why she gone and done this. She and me always get in fights, but not like this… it ain’t like her.”
            But I wasn’t particularly interested in Mr. Thompson’s musings on his mother. I was focused on that bite the camera was centering in on. I knew that bite. That looked just like the bite on my sister. On all the other 13 victims. He was next, I was sure of it. That’s how it spreads. It all makes sense… except one thing.
            Who bit Kirsten? What… zombie? Are they zombies?... is lumbering around Oklahoma at some peewee soccer game biting 9 year old girls? Who else is out there spreading this… thing?

            It’s been 3 days now. I haven’t left my apartment. My family hasn’t called. I don’t know what’s going on. The tv stations stopped working about a day ago. The last thing that they reported was an exponential growth in the victim count, and all of the first 12 victims had died and… come back. There were no more interviews. Every state in America had a few hospitalized people with bites. The scientists are all dead or running. Everyone’s given up hope of finding the cure, if there is such a thing. People are turning on each other. Fathers shooting bitten children, teens killing their bitten parents and grandparents, even schools that turned into hellholes when someone showed up bitten. Hospitals were bloodbaths.
            That’s all the news could say before they were dead too. The phones don’t work. The power is still on, but I don’t know for how long.
            I’ve still got running water, but the food is running thin. Had I known that America was going to be infested with zombies, I would have stocked up properly, instead of running on a barely stocked pantry like all college kids. I ate my roommate’s food; he never came back. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t trust the outdoors – I had no idea what was out there. All of Baylor could be fucking zombies by now. I needed to get next door to see if they had any food. I couldn’t last on poptarts much longer… mostly because they were almost gone.
            A few more hours went by. I didn’t know how long it would take to find food, and I truly feared running out. I went to the window and snuck a quick peek out through the blinds. It seemed still. My confidence grew slightly and I decided it was safe enough to try Kassie’s apartment next door; girls always thought ahead and had food. I unlocked the door slowly, holding my breath, and glanced out the crack. Still nothing. I opened it just enough to slide out, still scanning the parking lot and the horizon to be absolutely sure I wasn’t about to become zombie food.
            Nothing. I let out a sigh. I walked slowly, still alert, to Kassie’s and tried to look in through the opaque window in the door. I didn’t see anything moving, but I went ahead and knocked quietly. The only answer was a few seconds of nothing, so I knocked a little louder. It was so quiet; I could swear the knocking was as loud as a fighter jet. With still no answer, I took a deep breath and knocked even louder, nervously looking around with growing fear. With still no answer, I decided to try the door. It was open. Thank God, Kassie, for your lack of security. I walked to the kitchen and started going through the pantry. Stocked and ready. Smiling to myself, I loaded some Ramen and Easy Mac into a bag. I was starting on the refried beans when I heard a door from down the short hallway.
            I froze. Step, dragggg. Step, draggggg. A leg wasn’t working. Then there was a moan that was completely inhuman. Could I make it to the door? I had to try. I pushed another 2 cans of whatever into the bag and started toward the door. She was there faster than I was. She came out of the hallway and suddenly stood between me and the door. I took a millisecond to really look at what Kassie had become. She reminded me disgustingly of Kirsten. The light gray skin, with decaying bits and pieces. Her mouth just a red, irritated hole that was continuously chewing and opening and closing. Bloodshot eyes under disgusting matted hair, barely holding on to her scalp. Her clothes were dirty… bloody from the new holes in her skin. It made me sad to the point of crying, but the fear returned in half a second.
            She breathed heavily, like getting down the hall was the most difficult thing she – it? – had ever done. It stared me down, like a starving lion stares at a gazelle. I stared back like a deer in headlights.
            She started at me with that awful limp. I reacted with impulse. I took a can from the bag and threw it at her. It hit her in the face, tearing off part of her forehead. She barely even noticed it, despite her white skull showing through.


So that's the story. If that wasn't quite good enough for you, I think you should read Harry Potter 7 before midnight, just to be sure you know EXACTLY what they mess up, from the scenery to the dialogue to the BASIC FUCKING PLOT. Yes, I'm going at midnight, as any Potter fan should, but I certainly don't have high hopes, based on the last movie. There's just so much that they can't do, because they don't have the background because they left it out in the first 6 movies! So much stuff they just can't do. Seriously, they can start redeeming themselves by giving Dumbledore a proper damn funeral, but they'll probably start off with some stupid action scene that wasn't even in the book.

Like burning down the Weasley's house. Again. I mean, seriously. Who's idea was that? If I were Jo, I would be absolutely insulted that the movie makers didn't think my action scenes were good enough, so much so that they had to go make up their own just to go with their stupid made up plot line. Twilight was simple. It actually WAS about stupid teenage drama and why girls need boyfriends, and the people making the movie knew that and kept the same emphasis when they made the movie. You know what I mean? The people making the Harry Potter movies have completely missed the point. They're trying to make it about teenage love and overly simplistic good vs evil, instead of the way Rowling wrote it, where Harry Potter is about friendship, courage, confronting fears, destiny, finding inner strength, and doing what is right, and so many other things. All along the way, there are an abundance of priceless, humorous moments that the movies have long since forgotten. How do you go through the series without knowing what SPEW is?

Okay, I'm done. For now. I'm sure I'll repeat this rant tomorrow, after the movie is done attempting - and failing - to be a proper representation of the first half of the final book in JK Rowling's amazing contribution to popular culture and literature.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

meh. i dont even have the effort it takes to write a post right now. i havent felt this completely unmotivated in awhile.

insert a good 15 minutes of trying to figure out something to say.



nope. i really can't think of anything. nothing worth saying anyway.

no, wait, thought of something. 

being a freshman sucks when it comes to sign up for classes. seniority had its perks in high school, and that doesnt change here. the classes i wanted to sign up for are already closed.
imagine seeing this and suddenly realizing with a sinking feeling that the schedule you spent a good 3 hours figuring out isn't going to work at all.

whatever. i guess i knew i wasn't going to be able to avoid the 8 am forever. i just wish it could have been my own choice. and i just checked...its down to 12 spots. i might not even get into the class at all. being a freshman is stupid.

Monday, November 15, 2010

why am I so down tonight? I don't have any reason to be. Not a single good reason. I just feel like nothing is right. Of course, that's not true at all. I'm going to an awesome university, I have an awesome family, a few awesome friends, an amazing girlfriend, I'm making straight A's. Those aren't the things getting to me. I'm in that kind of mood where I mess up on fucking pacman and I feel like I'm a failure at life. The little things are getting to me. I bite my nails... can't help it. But my right pointer got chewed on too much today and now it hurts like a bitch. I have a headache that won't go away and I don't know why it's here. It's not an addiction headache. It feels like a sinus headache, but I can breathe. Well, mostly. More than usual, we'll say. I haven't been staring at a computer screen or tv for hours today, so its not that. Whatever. The finger takes precedence, especially while I type this.

I just don't understand why some days are like this. It was supposed to be a good day. It was puppy day. The Waco Humane Society brought puppies onto campus and we got to play with them... which I did. Instead of studying for the test today, which I never did get around to studying for, so I guess we'll see how that goes.

I feel the freshman 15 happening more and more every day, which I thought wouldn't be an issue, especially with my awesome metabolism, and usually it's not an issue, but my mind puts it on the list of problems just to make it seem longer. I'm so dramatic. I hate my mind sometimes. When I start realizing all the small things that are wrong, it finds other things that really don't matter just so I can make that list infinitely long. The shower next to my room doesn't get hot, so I have to walk down the hall to the other one. Not a big deal? You'd think not, right? Whatever.

I don't feel very productive right now. What I mean is, I'm not very productive right now, and I don't feel like fixing it. I need to be productive right now more than I've needed to be for weeks, and when it comes time, I just don't wanna. I don't feel like it at all. I have to get this schedule thing together for Thursday morning, I have to study for another test tomorrow... those are the two biggies. Just two, and its really not that hard to do either. But I've managed to put both off and just do things like play (and suck at) ms. pacman and galaga. Not even video games from the right decade. I'm so lame.

Maybe I'll do something crazy like work out, just to keep avoiding working. Maybe then I'll at least feel productive on some level. Again, it's whatever.

Apathy is starting to hit now that the semester is nearing its end. Why am I trying? To make good grades? Why am I making good grades? To get a degree? So? So I can get some good, high paying job? Is that supposed to make my life better? What comes after that? Why did I buy into this whole college thing? Is all this really worth it? Did I just make a whole paragraph out of questions?

The loud kid in my hall just yelled out 'vagina' really loudly. It's nearly midnight. Was that really necessary? This is what I live with. To add to it, the kids across the hall just completely cranked their new stereo system that they're so proud of. It has 2 subs I think. They like rap, but they've been known to rock out to Miley or t swift.

I'm so glad I didn't get through to the next round of CL tryouts. If I actually had made it through the interview process, I might have had to live here another year.

I can't think of anything else to talk about right now. Nothing seems worthy of discussion. Nothing really seems important right now. Not homework, not the schedule, not sleep, not food, not life.

sigh. oh life.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Geology.

I actually went to geology today. I couldn't pay attention though. I knew this going into it, because I had homework to do for my next class (that I'm actually in right now as I write this). But there was a catch. I couldn't even concentrate on the thing distracting me from the teacher rambling on about different kinds of volcanoes and the hazards they present. There was this girl in front of me writing a letter in pink sharpie. She had perfect fingernails, an iPhone in a white cover, and Starbucks. This is the kind of person sitting in front of me in Rocks for Jocks. Not your normal Generic Baylor Girl, but she was in spirit, I assure you. Anyway, I happened to read the first sentence, and I was hooked. This was a teenage drama on paper. It was so entertaining that I decided to copy it down. I started after she already had half a page or so, so I missed the last bit of the page while I was furiously copying, since she turned the page. Same thing happened between 2nd and 3rd pages and at the end when she flipped back to the front to tear out the loving bit of literature. For your entertainment (and her horror, should she ever find this somehow), I've copied my transcribing below. Enjoy.




Tiffany,

You lied. I know you were talking to Chris last night. I’m not completely uninteligent [sic]. I know yall have been talking for a while which means you’ve been lying for a while. I’m hurt. I’m so so hurt. Have I not proven myself loyal to you? Why would you lie to my face over and over? Best friends don’t do that. Obviously it’s because you don’t want to tell me. And for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you feel like you can’t tell me, Tiffy the reason I don’t want you to date him is because you deserve better. I’m not sure if you think I’m jealous or what. I’m sorry if you I’ve acted that way, but Tiff its not that I want you to be single, its that I want you to be in a relationship with someone amazing. I’ve been single forever. It sucks. I wouldn’t wish single on anyone. Sure, I’m not going to lie I do get jealous that guys fall at your feet all the time and I know that’s something

[lost about a third of a page]

standards for myself and therefore have very high standards for you. Waiting sucks, but its worth it because I firmly believe God has someone for me, someone who is perfect for me in every way and encourages me to be a better person and a better Christian. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you and Chris, but if yall are already staying I love you again then it has to be serious. If he really is changing and really is getting right with God then wait, it hasn’t been enough time. Tiffany, I sat there last night frozen in my bed. I thought I was going to be sick when I realized you were talking to him. IT hurts that you don’t listen to me or anyone else about this. I’m being honest here, it feels like no matter what I say you pick him over me every time. I do not support any relationship you have with him. I support your relationship with Jesus Christ. I’m sorry you can’t tell me you can’t trust me, that its going to take a long time for me to get over this. I know you’re not a confrontational person, but go, talk. Don’t worry about what I want you to say and tell me how you feel, about Chris, me, everything. We have a lot to talk about, but if you value our friendship like I do then we can get through this. I just need you to be honest

[lost a few sentences]

hurt me before. I’m hurt that I haven’t been the friend you need.  I have never lied to you, never deceived you, I know I’m not always great at this but I’ve always been there for you. You said you don’t want Chris ruining our friendship. Well I would be lying if I said he’s not. I don’t know

[lost a sentence. She signed with her initials.]



I think this is the best day of Geology so far. I learned so much. 

How to Train Your Dragon is STILL epic.

So tonight was spent watching How to Train Your Dragon.... again. I had almost forgot how absolutely amazing it was. I love that movie. Every character, every scene... the sound track, the animation, the relationships, the expressions... all of it. 

If you're an animal person, at all, you'll understand. This movie perfectly represents the relationship people have with animals. Dogs, cats, horses, whatever. Just animals in general. No, not your fish. Or your rat. Those don't count. Real animals. Animals that curl up and sleep with you in your bed even though they don't have to. Animals that get excited when you wake up and run up and down and around and then step on you by accident because they're so excited. Animals that can give you that "are you really as stupid as you look" glare. Some animals can just communicate with people. I have cats. Or at least, I do back home. My cat and I have a special relationship. We get each other. I know what she wants, and she actually listens to me. She doesn't give the rest of the family that courtesy. She'll follow me around. Most cats - if you're a cat person you'll understand -  just don't do that. It's definitely not normal. She sleeps with me. She sleeps on my lap if I sit in a chair. She still sleeps in my bed sometimes when she misses me. (She's a cat... she sleeps a lot. Get over it.)

Do I think animals can love? Yes. Affection is one of the basic emotions of any animal. (And by 'animal', again, your fish don't count, and your hamsters are out too.) They remember people. They have loyalty. They care about some people more than others. And yes, I think my cat loves me. Not in some weird boy - cat bestiality way, but in a best friends or family way. Even if she were human, I'd never date her. She can be a real bitch sometimes. 

ANYWAY. How to Train Your Dragon is awesome. It made me miss my cat though. I think I'll watch Toy Story 3 next. I've only seen that one twice, as opposed to HTTYD, which is working on 12 or 13. 

I can't wait for the sequel. It's DreamWorks. You know it'll happen.

Monday, November 8, 2010

better

"I've got to admit it's getting better 
A little better all the time"
                               The Beatles
Life is cooling down. I got through my CL interview okay. I bought my Harry Potter ticket.  I started my spring schedule process. I have more friends at school. I bought the things on my shopping list. The days between now and seeing Anna are always shrinking. Stress hasn't gone away, and I'm still kinda feeling like that 4 on a scale of 1 - 10, AND Baylor lost by a frankly embarrassing amount, but, I'll admit. It's better. It's more like a 4.5 or so.

"It's a good change. That's a good change!"
                               Prince John, Robin Hood Men in Tights
(Sorry for the 3 posts in a row. The just didn't seem to fit together so well, so I split them up)

For Emily.

This one comes from this post

Q: What is your favorite season and why?
A: Fall. Best weather, hands down. My allergies can suck it up.

Q: What is one 4-letter word that describes you?
A: uhhh...
Q: What is your favorite fortune from a fortune cookie?
A: "Keep your eyes open, and take advantage of the unexpected" because one, it was in my pocket from today, two, it's the only one I know right now because I have it in front of me, and three, it's such a blatant innuendo. 
Q: What is the worst movie you've ever seen?
A: I have a whole blog post for this, but recently, Tales From the Hood. Look it up. It's not even worth the time to describe it.
Q: What's you're addiction?
A: Caffeine. Mmmmmm.
Q: Are you a ninja?
A: Pirate
Q: Vampires or werewolves?
A: Wizards.
Q: Do you believe in magic?
A: nahh. It'd be nice though.
Q: Favorite Sesame Street character and why?
A: ooh...uh, I dunno. this one's a toughy. lets go with the count, just for this video.
Q: Rate your awesomeness on a scale from 1 to 10
A: depends on my mood for the day. right now I'm feeling like a 4.

Same and different


Isn't it funny how people change so much, yet stay the same?

These pictures range from 4th grade through senior year of high school, and I look just a bit different in each of them... heh. Okay, maybe more than a bit. They're generally chronological, but blogspot hates pictures, apparently, or else I'm simply retarded... see other post... but either way, they're pretty close to chronological. And it's pretty clear that I've changed. (don't judge the pirate one. It was Halloween last year... yeah. I just liked it.) 

And yet, while I look different from my 4th grade self, wrapped up on the back of Travis Baker, at a park across the street from my elementary school for a "we passed TAKS" party, or something like that, you can clearly tell it's me. Things stay constant, even through the differences. It works internally too. We mature, we grow, we experience things that change us, but that person we were in 1st grade never really went away. Life just... altered it. My 2nd grade teacher wrote me a letter in a class journal once. It tells me how funny I am, how unique I am, and how I'm different, and how it's all for the better, and she tells me never to change it. Well, those who know me can definitely attest to that one. I'm certainly different than everyone else, and some people take that the wrong way, but I'm still that person, even through my 'maturing'. (I'm wearing a santa hat in what is either mid-fall or spring sometime; I can't remember when that picture was taken.) And just look at my hair. Different, I think so. Not between pictures, but I mean, different from normal. Whatever that is.

Never lose that. Never forget who you were, because you're still that person. You can use all the excuses you want.... I grew out of that, look at how stupid I was back then, things are just different now.... but deep down you know you're still that person, and it's not a bad thing.


Change, but don't change.

Friday, November 5, 2010

memory.

So its getting cold. I guess it was bound to happen, going into November and all, but this is Texas: it happened overnight and caught us all off guard. People always act surprised, like they think it never gets cold here after just surviving the horribly hot, oppressing summer... it's even funnier at college now, with freshmen from places like California and Florida. They're really in for it.

But okay, there was a point to this. It got cold, so I pulled out my suede jacket that I love so much... it has a million pockets. I like pockets. Especially these, where you could put a live animal of some kind in and no one would know until you pulled it back out. These pockets work like Hagrid's. I won't be pulling a birthday cake out anytime soon, but I could definitely fit a book or two.

So I pulled out my jacket, and what do I find? Burt's Bees! Only the most awesome chap stick of all time. I guess technically it's 'lip balm', but I call it chap stick... so... uh... get over it? I guess it makes sense, since I need chap stick in the cold and I need my jacket in the cold.... I know I didn't do it on purpose, but it was really convenient.

Isn't it so weird that smell can associate so closely to memories? That one little smell can launch a day of nostalgia? It's the craziest thing. You don't think of your sense of smell as important as say, sight, but it's always there and it reminds me of things the most often. So anyway, Burt's Bees and it's delicious peppermint scent blasted me through time. The first thing I thought of was Tim's car. He always had the stuff, and his car frequently smelled like it. But specifically, there was this little thing called high school graduation. Tim and I drove together, we go inside with our one key (that's seriously all they let us have... no ipod, no pens or paper, not even a wallet) and sit through our massive 4 hour graduation ceremony, come back out, quickly turn on the air conditioning, since it was June and it was insanely hot outside, and Tim promptly sees his wax lip balm and opens it. Well, in his nice clothes and everything, this tube of melted, liquid wax pours all over him and immediately dries. And if that alone wasn't bad enough, it was an opaque, cloudy white color that he spilled all over his pants. Just think about it, and if you still don't get it, never mind.

So that was the first thing I thought of when I opened up a tube of chap stick yesterday. There were about a dozen other memories that happened in the span of 2 seconds, but I have to go get dressed for an interview! Wish me luck (by the time you read this, I'll definitely be done already.... so you don't really have to I guess... yeah.)

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

...a continuation.

Well, to prove my point just a bit further, instead of going to that homework, I decided it was time for a new picture. I liked the picture I had up there, but I felt like all of you were being lied to, since I definitely don't look like I used to. So I hunted down a decent facebook picture and cropped it down to size, and ta-da: a new picture. Thought you should know.

And don't judge. If I wanna use blue font, I'm gonna use blue. Who's gonna stop me?