Me + Parties = Disaster

This is of course a shortened list.

I like parties, but not really. I mean, I don't see the point in making a bunch of small talk with strangers I will most likely never see again, and everyone is inebriated anyway, so one person's slurred words are likely no better than the next person's.

Occasionally though, I see that people around me are seeming to enjoy meeting strangers, so I give it a shot. Usually though, I just come off as desperate and needy since at that point I am determined to have a successful stranger interaction, and the person does not appreciate my antics.

So, my favorite parts about a party have thus become music and inebriated dancing. When there is bad music, I have no qualms about changing it should there be a visible, tangible device for music changing.

Occasionally, this results in people taking away said devices, such as last night when I was using the arrow keys on a keyboard sitting on a speaker to flip through songs. A guy eventually detected there was a serial music changer at his party, and I later found that the keyboard had been taken away and there was now a remote control device of sorts that he kept with him the whole night.

So, in summary, you don't want me at your party unless you enjoy watching someone embarass themselves with copious amounts of dancing and anti-social behaviours.

Taking Your Heart on a Walk: Risky

Sometimes you take your heart on a walk to give it some fresh air. Seems like a nice thing to do for your heart...it spends too much time inside, after all.

Sometimes though, it enjoys its freedom a LITTLE too much and gets out of control.

You may then be forced to scold your heart and make it feel bad about itself a little just to get it back on track.

Poor lil' guy. He'll feel better in the morning.

DEB (Da Environmentalist-wannabe, Bustyoassfo'stealin' Co.)

Two funny things about the DEB clothing store: 1.The juxtaposition of flowers on their signs in their dressing rooms with text that basically says " Go ahead and try stealing from us, and we will prosecute the shit out of you." and 2. They have plastic bags that state they are "concerned about the environment," so they encourage you to reuse them at a different store, which absolutely no one does.

Female = A constant state of fucked.

Allow me to demonstrate the unfortunate paradox that occurs when it's that time of the month and we chicks are totally fatigued (largely because of an unfortunate menstruation cycle we were cursed with by the Gods,) and need caffiene so badly just to be able to function properly, ONLY to have caffiene kick us in the ass by worsening what are already some pretty horrid cramps.

Sometimes, I go to the movies by myself.

This year, I have seen two movies by myself: First Greenberg, and now The Social Network.

This loser-like ritual started when I saw March of the Penguins in 2006. This is probably when I officially became something of a loner in general, and I suppose when I started wanting to see movies no one else really wanted to see.

Sometimes, though, it can be nice to have the moviegoing experience in complete solitude, without the commentary, sneezes, texting, laughing, crying, or farting from others (although you aren't completely exempt from these simply by going solo--especially if it's a popular movie and some large, loud-breathing man is practically sitting on you.)

Edjacation

I don't know what the answer is for improving education, but this is how I feel while sitting through many of my classes.

(Note: The teacher is apparently levatating)

An unfortunate keyboard

I am now embarassed to go out in public with my laptop because my keyboard may lead people to believe that I regularly smash my laptop against the wall.

In actuality, my cat has a secret (now not-so-secret) infatuation with my keyboard keys, and managed to bite off a total of 6 keys (3 of them being the numbers 5,6, and 7, which means that when I am using any of these numbers I have to stop and think about which one is correct. Naturally, using the corresponding characters, %^&, requires even more brain power. ) The spaces left from the missing keys are also sort of frightening-- two of them resemble faces (See above photo.)

Another lovely sight on my computer is due to the prolonged use of my lappy (homestarrunner.com reference.) The paint has literally been melted off of the mouse-less right click thingy due to the incessant occupancy of my hot little thumb resting on it as I click and scroll my life away on my increasingly slow-running and seriously outdated Dell Inspiron E1505 Notebook.

Sometimes, campuses have some ugly landmarks.

So, I cannot help but notice how CMU is particularly lacking cool things to look at on campus (unless you count the sad attempt at emulating the Colosseum that is the Park Library--which, personally just makes me wish I was in Italy again--or perhaps you excite over the never-ending sidewalk chalk advertisements?)

I think art students (and others) need to take it upon themselves to use even their throw-away art to make some more promising, aesthetically-pleasing works of art for this campus so as to detract from the unfortunate existing ones. In fact, I wouldn't be at all disappointed if someone took out either one of the next two..erm.."installments" with a sledgehammer.

The award for the ugliest work of "art" goes to the rock that was painted white and spray-painted in red lettering "The Kappas are Koming!" Every time I look at this, I think "Who are the Kappas, why are they 'koming', and who let them deface this rock? Also, don't some other greek people want to take on these Kappas and paint over their pointless message with some kind of recruitment attempt for their sorority/fraternity? SOMETHING to switch it up a bit!?"

Maybe I will take it upon myself to paint this fugly rock. You know, paint a positive message on it so when others like myself are shuffling to class in a zombie-like state, they aren't also forced to stare in disdain at this rock painted horrid colors, and with an equally horrid/pointless message on it.

In close second is a work of art that I might be able to appreciate more if not in the context of campus. Probably not, but I don't want to completely dis whoever is behind this sculpture. I mean, call me crazy, but I'm a gal who finds bright colors motivating, so this rusty brown metal ball by Moore Hall does not quite conjure any feelings like "Yay, what a happy day on campus! Even though it's really not! But that thing that has happy colors is cool and makes it easier to pretend!" but rather, it conveys: "Oh, there's that thing that reminds me that the world is a bleak, round, rusting ball. Off to class I go. Can't wait to graduate. Do I have a test today? Screw it, the world is rusting anyway."

Hey, look, say what you want about my inability to appreciate art, but I know I'm not the only one that doesn't appreciate the rusty ball. If you made it, I really can sympethize with your inborn impulse to conjure metal into a nice round shape--but again, the feeling I get from it in a campus setting is less than desireable.

For my art criticism class, we are supposedly doing a class artwork project, so I will definitely be suggesting that something be done about that defaced rock. If we don't do it for that class, it will easily become a personal project.

My sneeze will surely be the cause of the next wildfire in California

When certain people sneeze, it is barely noticeable. It seems that some individuals have mastered this weird closing off of all their facial holes in order to keep their sneeze in. They can successfully censor their sneezes because they are fortunate enough to not be a carrier of the crazy sneeze gene.

When other people sneeze, however, you wonder if they will survive whatever loud, terrifying thing you just heard come out of them (and in some cases, whatever terrifying thing you just saw come out of them.)

I have never be a good sneeze keeper inner. I can't even fathom it, to be honest. My sneezes are so powerful, they could turn a lit tealight candle into a wildfire in mere moments.

If I were to try to be a dainty sneeze keeper inner, I think my head would surely explode.

Buckets, Heaven, Potty Trains, and being called "cute"

When I was young I was either kind of special or brilliant, I'm not quite sure yet.

My mom always used strange old-lady phrases that I didn't quite understand. For example, when my fish died, she said "Uh oh, looks like the fish kicked the bucket." After I likely grieved for days over the passing of my fish (there wasn't anything I didn't cry about,) I began to inquire about the statement my mom had made. "Mom, where is the bucket that the fish kicked?" I asked, genuinely concerned about the whereabouts of this bucket.

Whenever I said cute stuff like this, it resulted in being spoiled with affectionate "Awww, isn't she so cute!"s and, in my opinion, ultimately resulted in my ill-adjustedness to adulthood where these kinds of praises are few and far between.

But anyhow! Crazy little me also overheard a lot of talk among my parents about my needing to start "potty training" soon, so naturally, when I heard talk of potty training, I stared up innocently at my mom with my curly little afro and big hazel eyes asking, "Mommy, when do I get to ride the potty train?"

The cuteness doesn't end there. When my grandpa died, I remember looking up in amazement at the chandeliers at the funeral home ( which I would still do, in natural ADD fashion.) After staring at the ceiling for a long time, I asked, "Mommy, is this heaven?"

I think that one just resulted in my mom sobbing more, though she did manage to crack a smile.

I suppose I am still a little naive. That, coupled with having a baby face results in many older folk still referring to me as "cute" quite a bit more often than I'd like, 20 years later.

It doesn't bother me TOO much because it's usually said by people I like, but it is kind of weird when you're supposed to be an adult and people are still using an adjective to describe you that is often used for babies and animals.

I looked up "cute" in the dictionary, and being called "cute" with this definition in mind makes it a little easier to digest: "mentally keen; clever; shrewd"

Hey, I can live with that!

They call me "hypo", I call them "(expletive)"

My friends and family will be the first to tell you that for quite some time now, I have been moderately affected by a somatoform disorder (read: physical symptoms with no apparent cause,) known as hypochondria.

It's not too intense, I don't think, but I did used to frequent WebMD whenever I had a fairly common symptom, and if that symptom persisted, I automatically began focusing on whichever health issue I found that sounded the most morbid.

Sound crazy? That's 'cause it is, mostly. I do still have one unexplainable health concern that I haven't seen a dermatologist for, and that's reocurring hives or chronic uticaria. They are so annoying it's ridiculous, and I have had them since high school. It isn't just a small, obnoxious itch, either...it starts off that way, and then swells up and sometimes even leaves whichever body part is affected (usually my thigh) really sore and white the next day, after the swelling goes down.

Every time I talk to my family members about this, they roll their eyes and attribute it to "stress"...but I can't count the number of times I have been stressed and NOT broke out in insanely uncomfortable hives, or the number of times I find a breakout happening when I am not stressed whatsoever.

It has been a few weeks since the hives-o-death reared their ugly head, and I do take measures such as using Free and Clear detergent, but that doesn't really seem to make a difference. Of course, I have done all the research I could do on the matter and what is the prevailing evidence?

"For most people with chronic uticaria, the cause is unknown."

Cool, thanks science. Luckily I don't currently know of any deathly diseases associated with hives (though I know they are out there,) so I shall just suffer in silence/ignorance I suppose.

New study by KenitKatz reveals more male cats are narcissistic a-holes

So, it has come to my attention that more often than not, female cats are much more cuddly and crave human contact more than male cats. I'd say the same goes for people, but personally I'm not always cuddly/lovable.

I'm not writing it off just yet, though. I'd say I have the potential to one day share the same admirable values as a female cat. Sigh... one day...

And of course, there are cuddly male cats out there- Sometimes Marlow likes to brush up against my leg or sleep next to me, but then if I get overly-affectionate, he has no qualms about taking a claw to a shirt or an arm.

This is remniscent of some adults with attachment/trust/other issues, so it makes me wonder what such issues male cats could possibly have had to make them so prick-like. I mean, Marlow has an excuse, he was on the streets for 10 weeks or so before I found him. But what about the cats that come from breeders? They are the same way, aren't they?

I suppose this consistency lends itself to the idea that " They just like their independence because it is just how they are, they are natural loners" blah blah blah. But we say that about people, too, and we all know that every single "I iz independent, I don't need no one! I'm happy as a lark! Single power!" person is inherently lonely, no matter how many friends/aquaintences they have. So I guess maybe that's why we feel like we can continue to give them the petting and the belly scratching (the cats,people..the cats,) that they don't seem to want, because they may not always know it, but they need us, damn it! If they fight it, too bad- we're still going to do it again. They can talk about it in cat therapy.

Disclaimer: If you are in a relationship and have a secure attachment style (or, in other words, are the human equivalent of a female cat,) and what I'm saying is a bunch of jibberish to you, it is because you are currently immersed and preoccupied with normal, happy feelings of love for your partner, so you just feel free to move along and forget all of that rubbish up there ^...

Anyway, back on topic! (Was there one?) There are also, I'm sure, girl cats that will scratch your eyes out for holding them, (that's me if I were a cat--) but none that I have come across yet. At worst, I have received an occasional firm press of the paw to the chest signaling "Betch, plz put me down, thx."

Basically, I think that if some insignificant study were to be done on how many male cats fight being held vs. female cats, something tells me that female cats would let you hold them for a much longer period of time.

Pulitzer-Prize winning feline psychology writer,
Ashley M. Kennett

Caffiene > death

Who doesn't drink coffee? I mean, seriously.

It's one of the few joys there is to still be had in the world today.

You don't even have to like the taste of it, I don't. But put some yummy creamer in there and suddenly a bitter cup of coffee tastes like the creamy hot delicious drug that I have come to know and love.

If it weren't for caffiene, I would surely die. I realize that this is purely psychological, but whatever-- it's not like I'm doing coke here. (Cocaine that is. I've been known to take a hit or two of Coke- namely Cherry or Diet.)

Looking to get addicted to something? Facebook just isn't doing it for you? Get hooked on coffee!

Alright so maaaybe it will slowly start to take over your life, and you will feel like a total zombie in the morning if you don't have it. And yeah, you might find yourself beginning to blow $4 that you don't really have at expensive coffee shops. And sure, people will judge you a little bit when they begin to realize they rarely see you NOT guzzling down a cup of java, but hey. It's all in the name of feeling alert and happy. (Well, at least until you become a full-blown addict and it barely even affects you, making you need even more of it to get the desired effects.)

Only YOU can decide if you want to be addicted to coffee. I hope you make the right choice.

Buddha belly of love

"Sometimes, you're just gonna look like Buddha."

This is a truth that I have more or less come to terms with over the years. I mean, if you don't want to look like Buddha (and you are pre-disposed to having more of an "apple" than a "pear" shape,) then one must accept that this entails a lot of un-fun stuff like early morning workouts and, ironically, eating lots of apples.

So naturally, being a normal person who likes sandwiches and ice cream and yummy lattes, and dislikes working out early so as to get a work out in before class...I am going to have to live with a little sac of joy in my midsection. No, not that kind of sac of joy. Many may incorrectly think there is an embryo embedded deep within my buddha belly of love, but this is not the case.

Occasionally though, I am caught off guard by the buddha belly. When wearing certain tops, it can look more pronounced than usual. Sometimes I will just stare at it and begin to wonder if there really is something in there. But then I conclude that it's just those darn simple carbohydrates. I mean, you think they are simple, then you go clothes shopping and pretty soon it all gets quite complicated.

Demi Moore doesn't ever look at her Buddha belly, that much I know. It's like me, Oprah, and Britney Spears.

Take the guilt out of your guilty nap.

Ever taken a guilty nap before?
Wait, what!? You don't know what a guilty nap is!? Allow me to explain.

A guilty nap is when you are painfully aware of the fact that there are many others around you who barrel through their 12+ hour days sans caffiene, naps, or complaints. Where these people got their unwaivering work ethic/ self-discipline remains a mystery to the rest of us.

The rest of us, on the other hand, are the types who, like wee little toddlers, need our naps or else we get cranky and refuse to do homework/speak to people/be anything resembling a contribution to society.

I, for one, can justify my need for naps for this reason alone: I am an introvert. Introverts, for the most part, get drained by too much interaction with people. Some have a higher tolerance than others, but mine, for one, is pretty damn low.

For me, school-related interactions are the dominating life force suckers in all the land of life force suckers, as they often entail a professor at the front of the room boring even themselves with their unlively ramblings. And worse? When the resevoir of boring things to say runs dry, it is then encouraged that the class breaks up into small collaborative groups where one is expected to nod in agreeance and act happy to be there, working ever so nicely with their cutiepies of classmates. Fine for fake optimists, not fine for withdrawn, nap-loving pessimists.

So, today, after only two classes, I came home and sat on my bed. Sitting on my bed turned into lying in my bed, and before I knew it I was clutching my pillow to my face, and drool inevitably began dribbling out of my mouth (in only the classiest of fashions.)

Then I entered a strange, half-asleep mode. I kept thinking things like "Why do I need to sleep after only having two classes? What's wrong with m..." (Drift off, then back into semi-consciousness,) "Oh yeah, it's because I was up ruminating about stupid things until like, 4 a.m...." (Drift off, then back into semi-consciousness,) "Do my roommates know I'm here? They are probably wondering why their bum of a roommate needs a nap when she doesn't even work." (Drift off, then back to semi-consciousness,) "I am an introvert, introverts need naps. Yeah. It's tooootally fine. You just go back to sleep there, trooper." (Drift off, then back to semi-consciousness...)

Then, miraculously, I somehow I woke up refreshed and happy, whereas before my nap the world looked like a bleak, cold (yet quite hot) place. This, friends, is the power of naps. Yes, even a guilty nap can be refreshing once you toss that guilt aside and become proud of that crazy little toddler within!