Wednesday, October 19, 2011

First of all, Logan is bipolar. I didn't even wear long pants for like a month after I moved back here. It was heaven. People blasted music outside the TSC and I skipped home in my barefeet, flip flops in hand, humming in the sunshine and wishing I hadn't left my aviators at my sister's house in salt lake like the spaz that I am...

And then, in like 20 minutes, Logan froze over and got all slushy and soggy and gross, and also windy. In short, "butt-snappin cold!" blowing in your face quite rudely. Pretty sure I didn't wear dry pants for a few days in a row.

And then I guess Hell got jealous and melted Logan out of its frozen wasteland state. And it was warn again for a bit. Heck, I was out running with Steph the other day and it was actually hot.

Now Logan has reached a golden goal. Manic and Depressive have given up and ceded to calm autumnal weather. The trees are turning golden, it's not too hot, not too cold, all you need is a light jacket! (go miss congeniality. woot.)

My sister Erin was telling me about Libby's fieldtrip to a pumpkin patch tommorrow! And I told her that all I wanted to do was buy a bouquet of sharpened pencils!* And then I was walking home, joyfully massaging my hand cramp away in the wake of my last furious hour of midterm writing in the complacent knowledge that midterms are done, and I don't have to go back to class for four whole days. And I was walking in the crunching leaves and little flyaway seeds blowing off the trees and the whole world had this nutty delicious flavor hanging about. 

this is why I live in Logan. Cause when it stops being bipolar, it compensates unstintingly.

also, tonight was Oktoberfest at work, and I ate potato pancakes and drank apple beer. Doesn't get much better than that.

* You've got mail. Don't you just love New York in the fall?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

real mature!

Sometimes, I get frustrated with people who don't give a crap about anybody. Cause if you don't care about anybody, what the heck are you here for? I especially get frustrated when people stop caring even though they used to. If you don't care, just say that. Don't string me along with flowers, chocolates, or promises you don't intend to keep. Cause I am a little worse for the wear at this point and I'd like to preserve some shred of self-respect.

You know the principle of least interest? aka, whoever has the least interest in the situation holds all the power, because they determine what level of relationship actually happens. Here's my beef with that. It has been a good long while since I have been the one on the least interested side of that equation. I feel like all the time I want so much to have good relationships with people who just don't care that much about me, even if they say they do. Minus the family. They are wonderful. But most of my other relationships include a whole lot of me waiting for the other party to contribute.

It wasn't always like that. What does that say about me? Maybe I just have really awful self-esteem and thus surrender the power in all of my relationships subconciously. Just once, can I not be the one who takes whatever you feel like giving me? Better yet, could there not be a power play? Can I go back to the days where my friendships included two halves of a loving, caring, "I really enjoy spending time with you" sort of a relationship? I miss feeling like an equal.

I don't want to play anymore. That is all. 

Sunday, October 9, 2011

because I'm sick, and also a night owl

It is 12:34 a.m. Make a wish and do it quick because this is the magic time of night when suddenly my brain comes alive. (usually with some help from a caffienated beverage)

So here's my life. I have this paper due tomorrow. It is comparing and contrasting Shelley and Tennyson and their views of social and gender roles in the nineteenth century as characterized in Frankenstein and The Lady of Shalott. Which I am all over! I have buttloads of things to spout about this, cause that's the kind of freak I am. But I am having a little difficultly organizing this into an essay instead of something I just spouted through my excited fingers.  There are several reasons for this.

1. McCuskey keeps telling us he wants a stream of conciousness, and also an organized essay. Maybe he doesn't understand cause he is a man, but in my book those two things are the definition of antithetical.  Organization and my stream of conciousness aren't friends. They aren't acquaintances. They don't nod as they pass each other on the quad. If they acknowledge each other at all, it is with thumb- biting and dirty looks.*

2. I have been working on this thing all weekend. Also, I have a nasty cold. My face might explode any second. Also, I kept sneezing on my keyboard while I typed, so then I had to stop and get Clorox wipes. Very counterproductive. Those things overlapped, which means that two miserable things are compounded into something resembling a machete and a pair of pliers.**

3. Lots of exciting stuff happened around here this weekend and I got kind of distractified. We had family dinner and cleaning parties and surprise birthday parties and sleepovers and movie nights and deep conversations at 2 thirty in the morning when I should have been sleeping and boys sneaking into our apartment  in the middle of the night and creeping us out and then it was just greg so it was fine and not a rapist like Katie was afraid of and resetting the internet six times before it would finally work. Anyway. Lots of stuff.

So here's me. I am blogging when I should be finishing my essay and wishing I was dead instead of dealing with feeling this crappy and trying to ignore the fact that I have to be at work in five hours and I haven't even gone to sleep yet.

I just used a lot of really bad grammar and run on sentences.

That's the thing that seems like the biggest problem to me in all of this post.

I need help.

* Sixteen points if you got all the Shakespeare stuffed in there.
** Five points if you got the J-Lo movie. I am on fire with the media references!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

This may have something to do with all the Diet Coke

My life consists of some hardcore awesomeness. Which I am concious of on most days, but I just got an extra shot of dopamine when I turned my car on and the radio was playing the same song I was humming and decided I had to share my joy with the internet.

 Hence, some recent awesomeness:

  • The Script. I love them. Also Matt Kearney and Barenaked Ladies. 
  • Going to choir concerts full of Broadway (wherein my lovely roommate was the absolute most talented one of the bunch. obviously.)
  • More of The Script. Seeing as how it just came on the radio again.
  • College apartment pranking. Aka all our forks got slowly stolen. ( So we maybe broke into the boys apartment and stole all of their forks back. Yes. Even the dirty ones from the dishwasher. Absolutely we are champions.) 
  • My bosses are divvying up employees between the junction and the new Fine Arts Cafe. And they have been fighting over me. Score.
  • Star Wars demotivational posters. Because U.S. Institutions is just too boring and Shane always brings his laptop. We get distractified. 
  • Bridal shower for Kate who is getting married quick. I miss that woman a whole heap.
  • Playing with Matthew and skyping with the Fig Newtons way over there across the country. 
  • Daddy has dubbed me with a new nickname. Seeing as how Erin moved, she is now East coast Trouble and I have been promoted to West Coast Trouble. Snap!
  • Shameless flirting with that boy from work. I'm enjoying that. 
  • The wonderfulness that is Kate Chopin and the Brownings, Mr. and Mrs. 
See, I noticed something. Backstory. Go.
I show up to work at six freaking thirty in the morning. And the standard greeting is "How are you?" And, to prevent teary meltdowns because I'm so tired, I decided to always answer with excessive enthusiasm so that people don't think I am a freak who cries when I am tired.
What I have noticed is that you can only fake excessive enthusiasm for so long before it stops being fake. So now when I see Gary and Katie in the mornings I can be enthused and it is not lying through my teeth.

Success!!! (or, as Gabe says, susex!)