Procrastination Starts With "Pro"

My New Year's resolutions are as follows:

1. Write a draft of my novel that I would actually consider sending off to agents.
2. Maintain my brand new STARBUCKS GOLD CARD.

3. Get a job? (I'm obligated to put something on the list that'll fail, right?)
4. Keep up with new episodes of Psych. (Bring on the pineapples.)
5. Actually read all of the books on my bookshelf that I've been staring at the last few months/years.

6. Don't be awkward.

7. Don't be awkward.

8. Don't be awkward.

9. Write every day. (This counts, right? *shifts eyes warily*)

And finally...

10. Stalk J.K. Rowling. (And prove that we're distantly related.)


Happy New Year, everybody.

Shut the Duck Up

I don't blog much.

It's not like I don't have plenty to say. I could blog every day and tell you all the meaningless details of my life.
(You wouldn't read it.)

It's time to be honest with myself, and to be honest with you five people who found this link on my Facebook page. I'm horrible at blogging. Why? Because blogs only go viral if they're about hot issues.

I know all about the issues; anytime I sign onto my Facebook page and discover that there is a theme in the statuses on my newsfeed, I can assume one of three things.

1. There's a big game going on.
2. Someone died.
3. Something controversial just hit the news, and everyone I know has an opinion.

The natural thing to do, if I wanted to be a successful blogger, would be to post my own slightly unorthodox, unexpected, or controversial opinion in the snarkiest tone I could muster and add to the slush pile. I would most likely offend half my friends, who would in turn offend the other half of my friends, and an argument would commence in the comments, and isn't that exactly what the Internet is for?

(What? You mean that's not why God invented Facebook?)

(Oops. I said the G-word. Bring on the spaghetti monster debate.)

In the interest of making this a successful blog post, then, I'll state my unorthodox opinion.

Nobody cares what my opinion is. 

If I wanted to spend hours debating the validity of the Bible, I would tell you that I think Phil Robertson was right to say what he did. If I wanted to be berated by elder church members for ignoring the teachings of the Bible, I would say that he deserved to be suspended. And if I wanted to twist the debate into one about the privileges of private businesses, I would point out that this is a matter of free speech, not theology.

But oh yeah--I don't want to start a debate. Funnily enough, I don't like arguing. I think there comes a point in certain arguments where someone has to take a leap of faith, and someone starting from the other direction is not going to take the same leap as you. There is a level of agreement we can reach, and there is another level we cannot. Ironically, we try to bridge the gap by screaming out our extreme opinions as if they're fact, and we refuse to take, "I disagree," as an answer. Is that tolerance? Or is it the definition of insanity? We've been arguing the same things for years, decades, centuries--pick a side, sure, but don't expect the rest of the world to be on it.

If you'd just shut up, people would listen to you.

The Universe Says "Don't Grind Your Teeth"

If you live on social media like the majority of Americans, you've probably learned two things in the past few days:

1. Yesterday was October 3rd.
2. How I Met Your Mother Season 8 is now on Netflix.

If you're anything like me, you probably got unnecessarily excited about the latter and proceeded to watch every episode. (Worth it.) Also, if you're anything like me, you probably get ridiculously emotionally invested in sitcoms of this nature. You probably compare yourself to one or all of the characters, and you try to figure out which of your friends is most like all the other characters. (My roommate is Robin.)

I'm not really sure who I am. I certainly have some things in common with Lily, but I haven't found a Marshall. At this stage in my life, and I'd imagine a lot of people are in this same boat, I'm a Ted. I haven't found my soulmate, I occasionally fall for the wrong person, and when I'm really desperate I start looking up everyone who grinds their teeth in New York so I can find that person I shared a look with on the bus. (JK. I don't live in New York.) Anyway...

Sometimes it gets really frustrating to be Ted. You want to be happy for your friends, but a part of you is still jealous and insecure. You know people love you, but you still get lonely from time to time, and no matter how many times you tell yourself that he/she is out there, your thoughts keep coming back to the disheartening possibility that he/she just doesn't exist.

Sometimes you really get your hopes up. You meet someone who seems to have jumped straight out of your dreams, and someone says exactly the right thing, and someone just happens to have this birthday, or this favorite food, or this height, and you think, surely -- it's a sign! The universe is telling me that this is my soulmate, right? Right?? They have to be! If not... Maybe there are no signs... Because maybe that person isn't real... And maybe you're never going to find them.

It's times like these when you have to listen to your voice of reason, because you know what? You have nothing to worry about. You just have to lift your head up and say:

"Maybe it's dumb to look for signs from the universe, maybe the universe has better things to do - and dear God, I hope it does. Do you know how many signs I've gotten, how I should and shouldn't be with someone? Where has it gotten me? Maybe there aren't any signs. Maybe a locket's just a locket; a chair's just a chair. Maybe we don't have to give meaning to every little thing. Maybe we don't need the universe to tell us what we really want. Maybe we already know that. Deep down." - Ted Mosby

So let this be a sign from the universe. Keep looking, but don't be surprised if you have to wait awhile. The best things always have the best timing.

Hairbrushes Don't Last Longer if You Freeze Them

I learned how to make coffee today. I also learned that we keep it in the freezer because that makes it last longer. However, this only works for food. Hairbrushes last the same amount of time, regardless of their frozen experiences.

Today was the first day of classes. On the way to class, Becca made the observation that the freshman girls are probably the ones wearing dresses. I made the observation that the ones carrying coffee are probably upperclassman. (After reading the assigned chapter from one of my Psych books, however, I discovered that our method was not a reliable source of gaining knowledge. Oh well.)

Mornings are not my friend, but my classes seem interesting. My Research Methods and Statistics professor, (new guy; he seems cool) had us fill out a survey. Half the questions were asking if we were terrified of math. I'm not. I'm probably the only one in the class who loves it. But again, I'm basing my assumptions on superstition, not science, so I can't write that into my literature review. Personality Theory was about what I expected it to be. My professor is an extrovert. I really hope her understanding of introverts is sound, because I hate group work and unsupervised discussions.

Four hours is a long time to sit in your room when you don't have tons of homework to do, but napping feels so unproductive...

I have friends in my fiction writing class. That's nice. The professor asked about my favorite novelists. Is it acceptable within the English department for my one and only favorite novelist to be J.K. Rowling? 'Cause if not, I may need to switch to math... or start reading more.

Rain is way more annoying now that the walk is so long.

I've been hearing rumors about the Kairos freshies. They're apparently pretty outgoing. One of them knows my cousin. Is it creepy that I know that? Yes? Okay... I want to meet them, but I have a class during the picnic. I'll be showing up fashionably late, like a boss. Don't let them leave.

So yup. That was my day. Pretty much just straight chillin' 'til tomorrow. Peace.

I See You Running Through Schimmels

So I haven't posted anything in a few weeks. I've been packing and saying my goodbyes. You know. Lovey-dovey stuff. ANYWAY, I finally moved into my new dorm/apartment yesterday!!! I've been packing for a month, and I still forgot things. But for the most part, it's amazing. Last year, my room had just enough space for two lofted beds with our desks and dressers underneath them. Not this year... 

Look at the size of my closet. 

Look at all this space!

This is my desk. 

I have a fort under my bed...

And the best part...

I can creep on Schimmels. 

(Unfortunately, Schimmels can also creep on me...)

This is going to be a great year. 

I Was Productive in High School

I honestly don't even know what's going on in the majority of my doodles. 

But they look kind of cool. 

There's a Spider on my Shower Curtain

It's brown. About the size of a quarter. I'm pretty sure it's still there.

Honestly, I didn't have a problem with it at first... not until it started moving. It was on the outside of the curtain; I was perfectly safe inside the shower. I even leaned in close to get a better look. I wish I'd had a camera in there. The underside of a spider, that close, is a bit unreal. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I watched The Amazing Spider-man again last night, but I was more drawn in than scared.

Of course, I had to finish washing my hair, so I ignored it for a moment to lather in my conditioner. I closed my eyes for one second, and it disappeared! I was worried at first that it had fallen off the curtain onto the edge of the tub. I naturally assumed it must be planning to sneak behind the curtain and make a meal of my feet while I scream for help and beg him (or her... I'm not an expert on bug anatomy) to think of my family. In another few seconds, however, that fantasy was dismissed when I saw it once again, this time near the top of the curtain. It went up?! Did it? Or did it actually fall, and this is in fact just another spider coming to jump on my face, therefore putting me up against a double-sided attack of the arachnemeses?

Nah, it's the same spider. I finished shampooing pretty quickly. Even if it was the same spider, I'd rather be attacked at my feet than my face. My feet can always run away... or stomp. My face just screams... which honestly would just make it easier for the creature to torment me. It's like when I tell Nugget to stop licking me and he sticks his tongue in my mouth. You know?

I got out of the shower and rushed away to my room. I used to be that brave kid that would kill a bug if it looked me in the eye... at least, well... okay, maybe not. But I would kill a bug for my sister, if she asked. She's the one that gets scared. Not me!

Honestly, I don't know why I don't just kill it. Maybe I am afraid that if I mess with it, it'll fight back. Maybe I just don't like the idea of knocking a spider off the shower curtain onto the floor where it would have a much easier time of getting to my feet. Or maybe some small part of me just doesn't like killing things. I don't really mind sharing my bathroom with a spider, so long as it stays out of my way. And out of my bathrobe. I wouldn't go so far as to say that killing a spider is a sin; we kill all sorts of animals to eat and survive off of. I would try to kill a bear if it attacked me. Well, maybe. I'd probably just run away, actually, but you know, if I had awesome bear-killing skills, I wouldn't be opposed to it.

It's self-defense, right?

I guess maybe it's okay to kill a spider sometimes. It might be poisonous. Maybe it could bite me and kill me. Maybe it would cause me to start shooting webs out of my hands, and then I would just have way too much responsibility what with the world-saving and what-not that goes into that sort of thing. But maybe... you know... if it's not hurting anyone... why kill it? It's a bug. Their lives are short enough anyway. I'd rather not get involved.

Huh. Looks like he got away.