I took "shop till you drop" to a whole new level.

What happened to me yesterday is one of those things where I hope the only lasting after-effect will be a fantastic story. 

So, I don't really even know where to begin. I guess I'll go chronologically. 

I went shopping yesterday, because I had time and a gift card, and I was just looking for some cute wintry clothes. I'll just come out and say it, I was at Plato's, the one in Altamonte. So I'm in the dressing room. I had tried on a dress, a couple of shirts, and was finishing up trying on jeans. I was putting back on my own jeans when, and I have honest-to-God no idea what happened, I fell. I mean, I FELL. The floor is some kind of rubbery material, and I have a feeling I went to twist my leg to balance, and it didn't move, so I just ended up twisting my leg, and my knee absolutely gave out. I screamed. If you know me, you know I have a relatively high pain tolerance, and I hate drawing attention to myself, but this was easily the worst pain I've ever been in in my entire, short life. So I screamed, and I fell because I couldn't hold myself up. The lady in the dressing room next me goes, "Are you okay?" And the question was echoed by all the employees who had come running when they heard me. I was like, "NO!" The dressing room attendant asked if I could open the door, to which I very cleverly answered, "I'm not even dressed!"

This is the saddest part of this story, btw. I had no shirt on and my jeans were halfway pulled on. Because this happening fully dressed would not have been NEARLY embarrassing enough. 

So anyway, she's like, "I have the key, we're going to get you out." And my thoughts were all equal parts, "OMG they're going to see me with no clothes on," "OMG, my knee is bent," "OMG, this is exactly what happened to Chichi (my mom's gimp chihuahua)," and "OMG, I'm gonna faint." They did open the door, and I had purposely not looked down because I could feel my knee was all bent out of shape. All three of the girls who were there gasped when the door opened. And I said, again very cleverly, "I'm going to faint." 

Luckily, the dressing room attendant (who I later learned was the manager on duty) had EMT or paramedic training. Thank GOD she was there. Seriously, I have prayed over this girl so many times because the whole experience would have been about 50 times worse if she had not been there. She very calmly grabbed me by the shoulders, took me out of the dressing room, and laid me down flat. She's like, "Don't faint, you gotta stay with us," but she laid me out flat anyway, which was really spectacular. She got me some clothes to cover up with, which was like, the best thing ever. 

"The Winner Is" from the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack was playing this whole time, btw, which is an odd memory to have, but from now on that's how I'll think of that song.

Anyway, Angel Girl (I don't know her name!) got me a cold cloth for my head (presumably to help with the whole not-fainting-from-pain thing), and she's like, "I'm gonna pull your jeans the rest of the way down because they're constricting the knee, but we've got stuff to cover you up." I think I just nodded. Or kept saying, "I'm sorry" like, over and over again. She got the jeans down over my busted up knee. And she was like, "Oooh, you did a number." I sneaked a glance and then thought I was going to faint again. 

I'm not posting a picture because a) my thought at that time was not "OMG SELFIE #IEFFEDUPMYKNEE!" so I have no pics, and b) it's super gross. But if you want to see what it generally resembled, click here at your own risk. 

They called 911, almost as soon as they heard me fall, which was amazing. But I was so scared. I'm pretty sure I've never been that scared in my life. Luckily Angel Girl sat next to me the whole time, and I was like, "What just happened?" She told me I had dislocated my knee pretty badly, and that an ambulance was on the way. I know nothing at all about medical things or injuries, so I'm like, "Is it broken? Is it even possible to break a knee? Do I need surgery?" And she very calmly answered me and said it was definitely dislocated, there could have been an internal fracture, and the paramedics would take me to Altamonte hospital. She asked if I was there with anyone, to which I wanted to be like, "If I was, don't you think they'd be here by now? I'm kind of making a scene." She had gotten my purse and clothes together and got me my phone. I tried calling my mom, but she was visiting my grandma and didn't have her phone on her. Luckily, my dad was at his office, which is about 10 or 15 minutes away, and I was like, "An ambulance is coming, please meet me at the hospital." The paramedics arrived just as I was finishing talking to him. What I really wanted to do was be like, "OMG COME NOW I AM SO SCARED!" but sometimes I try to be an adult. 

The paramedics come in and the one guy goes, "So, what are you doing?" And I answer, "I'm on the floor, naked, in Plato's Closet." He laughed and goes, "Well, you're not exactly naked," and they had some kind of ambulance blanket they covered me up with THANK GOD. Because having a store full of women see you in various states of undress is bad. Having 5 ripped guys you don't know see you in various states of undress (while lying on the floor with deformed appendages) is mortifying. 

They got an IV going and started me on morphine. I remember them trying to straighten out the leg, but I was like, "Guys, that's not gonna happen." So they upped my dose. Still no way they were able to straighten out my leg. Even with that much medication, I was absolutely still in pain. They finally gave me Versed, which I think knocked me out. If it didn't, I have literally no memory of what happened after that. 

I do know that they were awesome. I started going into shock and they were super nice and the one older guy held my hand and kept telling me I was doing fine and it was going to be okay, which is really what I wanted more than anything. Anyway, shout-out to Altamonte ambulance guys, you were AWESOME. 

I came to in the ambulance, and my leg had managed to go flat. The guy told me that the kneecap had been put back into place, and they were going to run x-rays at the hospital to make sure it was okay. They got me out and wheeled me into the hospital, where, HALLELUJAH! my Dad was waiting. I got a room, which was also nice, and then waited a couple of hours for them to do x-rays and everything. The whole afternoon is a little hazy after that. I remember trying to stay awake and coherent, but I felt really tired. Also, I have no idea what I may or may not have said, and that's probably a good thing because this whole story is already embarrassing enough without recollection of any drug-addled rambling that may have occurred. 

To complete my humiliation, I will only say two words: bed pan. 

Around 5, they checked me out. The x-rays came back okay, I guess. They gave me a leg brace and orders to stay on bed rest until I could get checked out by an orthopedic doctor, which won't be until Monday or Tuesday. So now I'm left with some humiliating memories, an incredibly sore knee, two people I'd like to thank and have no way to because I don't even know their names (Angel Girl and the Nice Paramedic), the threat that this may happen again (because apparently, that's common), and the promise of crutches and 6-8 weeks of physical therapy. 

I'll keep everyone updated, because I know this is an enthralling story. Ugh. The things I get myself into. 

I re-named the Recycle Bin on my computer "Azkaban" so that way, whenever I throw something out, it's like, "Are you sure you want to send this file to Azkaban?" And I'm like, "YEAH, I AM THE WIZENGAMOT, HAHAH."

Remember the scene in Master and Commander when Russell Crowe takes Paul Bettany to the Galapagos Islands after he gets shot? Because he denied him before and then Bettany gets shot and Russell Crowe feels bad, so he goes there even though it means losing the ship he's been chasing?

One day, I hope someone loves me enough to do that for me. Only I'd prefer not to have to operate on myself using a needle and a hand mirror in order to reach that point.

"I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great, and would suffice."

I had a singular experience yesterday. 

I had to scrape ice off my car for the first time in my life!

I rushed out the door on my way to work (as I usually do on Monday mornings) and sat in the car, per usual.   My windshield was frosted over, but that's nothing new, as I always park outside. I flipped on the wipers, and...NOTHING HAPPENED. 

It wasn't just frost that covered my windshield. It was hard, cold, solidly frozen ICE. 

Having lived in Florida my entire life, I was absolutely baffled by this phenomenon. 

My first reaction when the wipers didn't work was

Then I decided, "Hey, I graduated college. I CAN FIGURE THIS OUT." So I did that little thing where you can spray water onto your windshield. I tried the blades again. NOTHING. At this point, I was like

My parents, both having lived up north for a good portion of their lives, weren't there to ask for help. My dad had looong since gone to work (tax season sucks for everyone, but especially for accountants) and my mom was asleep. I couldn't justify waking her for something as asinine as, "How do you get ice off your windshield?"

So, with a stroke of genius, I went inside and grabbed the squeegee from my shower. I had to WORK (like, I put my BACK into it) to scrape the ice, but it did come off. 

I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!

"Don't clap." 

Then I had to take pics to document the whole affair, it being my first time and all. 

This was my sunroof!

The windshield, with an eerie-looking sun desperately trying to break through the ice. 

And after my handiwork. 

All I can say is, I'm unbelievably glad to live in a place where this happens once, maybe twice, in a person's lifetime. EWW. Bring on those 85 degree days!!

Oh, life, it's bigger than you and you are not me.

Tonight's one of those nights where I fully intend to overdose. On R.E.M. To the point of having Michael Stipe poisoning in my system. 

So how is my life, you might ask?

   

Dull. Very dull, which is why I haven't blogged a lot lately. I keep meaning to do it more. And I've come really close to posting an "I'm taking an indefinite hiatus from blogging post" but I can't bring myself to do it. I always think of like 12 consecutive posts right after I contemplate stopping. So I'm going to keep going. At a very glacial pace. That's okay though. I'd rather make fewer posts with stuff people might actually care to read about as opposed to a lot of fluff.

Work is okay. It's very time-consuming, this "adulthood" business. And it leaves very little scope for the imagination. However, it's merely a stepping-stone on the way (to wherever it is I'm going), which is why I took the job in the first place. 

Everyone says (and by "everyone" I mean self-actualized 19 year olds and self-help gurus) that in order to be happy you have to do something fulfilling, something that you're passionate about every day. Here's my problem: I have no idea what fulfills me or what I'm passionate about.

Things I Might Be Passionate About:

-animals

-reading

-Sherlock Holmes

-Harry Potter

-Halloween

-intense, fictional romances with characters who never existed

-gif files

-cake

-Conan O'Brien

That's really about it. And I doubt I can make a career out of decorating for Halloween, eating cake, cuddling puppies and watching Conan while posting copious amounts of gif's. But it sure would be nice! Anyway, I have a huge list of things I know I don't want to do with my life. Just none on the other side of the column. I'll figure it out one day, I'm sure. Probably I'll just fall into doing it and wake up one day realizing that I love what I'm doing.

Despite all that, I do really, sincerely feel that I'm where I need to be at this point in my life. So I'm just trying not to whine too terribly much and go along for the ride. 

Sorry for the lack of consistent/interesting posts, and thank you so much to everyone who still reads!

Not gonna let you ruin my day.

Taken today at Cocoa Beach. =D


Every year for my birthday, my Mom and I usually go to the beach for a day. We don't stay overnight or anything--we just like to go and wander around the shops, get some sun, take a walk on the beach, that kind of thing.

Well, this year's been a little crazy so between all the weddings, my work schedule, her schedule, and life in general, we never made it over there. One day about two weeks ago, she's like, "Let's just pick a day. You ask off for work, I'll clear my schedule, and we'll go to the beach." I was like, "OKAY!" So I did (luckily) get the day off work, and "beach day" has literally been the highlight of my life since. I didn't sleep a wink last night because I was so excited. Nothing gets me excited like the beach. Not even hot guys. Although, if I ever legitimately see a hot guy who's not famous or fictional, he might beat out the beach.

ANYWAY.

Today was beach day. SO EXCITED. And we really did have a lovely time, but I need to rant for a minute about THIS B***H.

Allow me to set the scene: we're about 30-50 yards away from Ron Jon's Surf Shop. Those of you who've been to Cocoa Beach know this is the hub of all tourist activity (big surf shop, lots of food, free beach parking, close beach access, etc.). Mom and I decide we want to check out the Cocoa Beach Pier first, neither of us having been. It's about 30-40 yards the other way; we had missed the turnoff for it. So we needed to make a u-turn, but A1A (which is a massive road that runs along pretty much the entire coastline and is THE MAIN/ONLY ROAD through Cocoa.) is a one way street. We get in the turn lane and turn onto one of the many residential streets in that area. The first house on our side has a circular drive (made of dirt, not paved btw) so we're like, "Oh, this is perfect, we'll just turn around and go out the other way." So we drive around and pull up behind a car that's also waiting to turn out.

I drew you a picture so you understand:

The blue line shows what we drove. So, anyway, we're there behind this chick and she backs up, nearly hits my Mom, whips around (yelling the whole time and waving her arms) and pulls up next to us and rolls down her window, still yelling. My Mom rolled down her window. Looking back, this was a not-so-good idea. I mean, I probably wouldn't have done it. I would've just kept going forward. Anyway, she rolls down her window and THIS PSYCHO WOMAN WITH A STARFISH UP HER ASS is like, "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT??? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?"
And Mom's like, "Um, making a u-turn?"
"WELL THAT'S PRIVATE PROPERTY! THAT'S MY DRIVEWAY THAT I HAVE TO MAINTAIN AFTER YOUR VEHICLE KICKED UP THE SAND. THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO MAKE A U-TURN. JUST SO YOU KNOW."
Mom started rolling up her window about halfway through this tirade, THANK GOD, and we just pulled up to where she'd been. She then sped off, only just missing the giant garbage truck, to God-knows-where, since it was a dead-end street. I'm assuming in order to get back to where she was, she probably had to turn around. PROBABLY IN SOMEONE'S DRIVEWAY.

Okay, SERIOUSLY?? I'm terribly sorry for driving IN YOUR DRIVEWAY. Also, you live in the middle of a tourist trap on a one-way street. Did you really think that no one would use your driveway as a turnaround? I mean, if I lived a stone's throw away from Disney and had a circular drive, I'd pretty much resign myself to the fact that people would be there ALL THE TIME, using it for parking, pictures, whatever. If you're gonna live somewhere like that, either resolve to not care or, and here's a novel idea, PUT UP A SIGN. Or a traffic cone, or rope or something. I mean, I know that's a pain in the ass when you live there, but you're a pain in the ass and you live there. And it would've been one thing if my Mom had been peeling around it going 60. If you know my Mom, you know she drives a solid 35mph pretty much all the time--on the main roads. We were going MAYBE 5mph. If we'd been popping wheelies (in my Mom's toaster Scion, lol) and driving all over your lawn, then I'd understand you being upset. But we weren't. And it's not even illegal. I looked it up as soon as we got home. It's not trespassing and it's not against the law (verbal assault and reckless driving are, though, btw).

Like I said: I get being upset. Mom and I were talking later and given the layout of the road and all, this is obviously not the first time someone's used her drive as a turnaround. And I know that's probably annoying. But again. Even if there is another way to get around
a) we're from out of town, like 90% of Cocoa's population, and don't know where it is
b) there was a giant garbage truck blocking all the other driveways as well as the rest of the road! Where else were we supposed to go???

Ugh. Just like, some people.



Anyway, that's my story of the B***h at the Beach. Apart from that, we had a stellar day. It was gorgeous--warm, not a cloud in the sky, a light breeze to keep us from feeling too hot, and the ocean. I bought a cute pair of sandals, swam in the ocean with some pelicans, got a little sun...it was glorious.

SO YOU DIDN'T RUIN MY DAY, BUT YOU DID GIVE ME A GOOD BLOG POST. HAH!

You've lost your muchness.

(Image credit with help from PhotoFunia.)

I feel as though, lately, I've lost my muchness. I can't really describe what "muchness" is, but I think everyone has a general idea of what it means to them.

I've been coasting lately. I'm terribly complacent with my life, which isn't the most terrible thing ever, but I dislike it. I don't like feeling just "okay." The other day I was trying to verbalize what was wrong or missing in my life, and the word that came to mind was "inspiration." There is nothing around me that inspires me. I'm stuck listening to the same old songs, seeing the same few people, going the same places...there is very little "scope for the imagination," as Anne of Green Gables put it.





I figured with my lack of inspiration, and therefore decent blog posts worth reading, it was time for me to be completely honest with you, my readers. I feel like lately my blog's been a lot of BS, and I HATE that because when I started it I never wanted it to end up at that place. And it has.

When I started this blog, I made two Cardinal Rules which were never to be broken:
1. Do not blog about family.
2. Do not blog about work.
I've held to those pretty well. I don't write about family (apart from the odd mention or quote here and there) because I love them, and my extended family reads this, too, and I'd hate to inadvertently offend or overexpose someone. Also, it's really none of your business whatsoever what my family does.
And I NEVER complain about work on this blog unless it's something that I've brought to my boss's attention. If you can't bring a complaint to the higher-ups, then you either have a) a crappy boss or b) an illegitimate complaint. I know people who've complained online about their jobs and then promptly lost them. And I DON'T want that to happen to me.

Herein lies the problem: my life, right now, is centered around family and work. My friends all live far away, so I rarely get to hang out with them even though we talk daily. The only places I really go are work, church, and errand-running. I have an incredibly active imagination which usually serves me very well as far as inventing things to write about. But lately, my imagination has been dormant. I imagine it to be like a fat guy who hasn't had the proper diet and exercise--it's there, it's just being terribly lazy and not getting the right treatment. Which is all my fault.


We've also had some trying times family-wise which have taken up a lot of my time and mental space right now. I won't get into the nitty-gritty, but on Christmas Day, we got a call that my grandma had been admitted to the hospital in North Carolina. She's lived alone on a mountain since my grandpa died 15 years ago, so we've always been concerned. The day after Christmas, my Mom and Dad drove up and brought her back here, presumably to live with us. After a day or so, she had another bad turn and ended up in the hospital here. She was just released on Tuesday into a nursing and rehabilitation center down the road. She won't be returning to NC and will probably be in this area in some sort of assisted living facility for the rest of her life.

This, naturally, has been extremely trying for my family. However, I feel better about her being here. As she gets older, it's simply not SAFE for her to be alone in a massive forest (it's not safe for anyone, really, regardless of age), and it'll be better for her to be here getting the care she needs and deserves. Also, we get to see her more, which makes us all happy. :)
But it has been hard the last couple of weeks, especially on my mom. If I've been quiet around here it's because I've been doing all I can to help out my family. Seriously, I'll be 23 in two months and I don't pay rent. The least I can do is help out.

I've also been fighting the world's most epic flu/sinus infection during all of this. I had a fever of about 101 for three days straight and felt absolutely MISERABLE--like, to the point where I couldn't even watch TV. You KNOW you're sick when you can't even rot your brain properly.

So that's why things have been quiet here in the Sea of Snark. I beg your understanding, dear Readers. I know you're a forgiving lot. :)




So ANYWAY, while I don't condone making New Year's Resolutions, my resolve this year (in between looking for a career to jump-start my so-called adult life, helping my family through their transitional time, and generally being awesome) is to find something I'm really passionate about. It'll probably be something totally stupid. But if it makes my heart race when I'm doing it and if I think about it when I'm not, I'll know I've found it. I want to find something that inspires me; something that inspires me to write again.

I thank you all for bearing with me on this journey and for reading my blog even through the awful dry patches. You guys are the BEST and I appreciate each and every one of you!


For further reading, Miss Gala Darling has, once again, a perfectly timed article on regaining your "spark." Or, "muchness" as the case may be. ;)

(Image credit.)

On the Death of my Computer.

My computer died.
It has passed on! That computer is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! Its metabolic processes are now history! It's off the twig! It's kicked the
bucket, it's shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!!
THAT IS AN EX-COMPUTER!!

So that's why I've been quiet for about, oh, the last week. I did finish a book though. But only one. Still, that's better than no book.

Anyway, I'm not entirely sure what happened. I think my computer has been slowly dying for a long time, and this week it just kicked the bucket. Unfortunately, it's beyond repair. So I had to get a new one. Which is EXCITING! Just an unforeseen expense. But I have 2 online classes, so it's kind of important. Anyway, I got the super deluxe not-even-released-yet Apple iThing version 4.0, with an HD camera so I can take high quality pics of myself and 2000 GB of RAM.


What I actually got is just the newer version of what I had. Which is an Acer Aspire. I love these computers.

Anyway, that's what happened. Not much else is new. I'm desperately trying to get through The Italian before this weekend, and have a paper due next week (I'm totally doing The Monk lol). I'm busy between school and work, which is good. Although Sleep and I aren't together anymore, apparently. I'm not sure if what I have counts as bona fide insomnia, but whatever it is, IT SUCKS.

If there's one thing I could never confess, it's that I can't dance a single step.

YAY!!!

It's my favorite month! And! And! Today it was actually PLEASANT outside! I mean, I think the high was like 81, so "cool" isn't exactly accurate, BUT STILL! YAY!

In celebration, here's my super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot Happy October/I Can't Believe It's Not Summer dance! Complete with douchebag outfit!

If my mad dance skills drive you to hysterics, it's perfectly okay. I had to do this 3 times because I kept laughing in the middle. AT MY OWN AWESOMENESS.

Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well.

I have to apologize for the absolutely abysmal quality of this blog lately. Like, it sucks. I don't even know why anyone would want to read it. I don't want to read it, and I write it. Blah.

I just really don't feel like I have anything cool or interesting to report! People are like, "Oh hey! What's new with you?" and I'm like, "Nothing." Really, NOTHING. I go to class, I do my homework, I read inordinate amounts of words the volume of which humans were probably never meant to ingest, and I mess around helping around the house and doing crap with Bixby. Like, that's IT.

Not that I'm miserable about it or anything. I feel pretty good about my life. It's just highly unpublishable.

I honestly feel like it's the calm before the storm. In a matter of less than 12 weeks, I'll be, for the first time in my life, well and truly DONE with school. It's like the lightsaber fight between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi.
Everything in my life has led up to that point, so wtf am I supposed to do when it's done? I imagine I'll have many whiny, Hamlet-esque posts at that point about "WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE??" and such things (I might even procure a skull and name him "Yorick" for such times).

So although things are dull as toast right now (an unfair simile in my opinion, since toast is delish, especially with Nutella), it's okay with me. I just feel terrible because it makes for heinous blog reading. So bear with me and my lame posts about Conan O'Brien and Harry Potter and stuff. I promise I'm working on ideas of things to write about which might be amusing in the slightest. I'm open to suggestions too, of course.
:)

"I must fight this sickness, find a cure."

This was SUCH a quality book.
Self-described as a "progressively lipogrammatic epistolary fable," Ella Minnow Pea takes place on the fictional island of Nollop, named after the man who invented the pangram "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." In memory of the island's most prolific citizen, a statue has been erected of Nollop in the town center, with the historic sentence surrounding it. Well, one by one, tiles being to fall from the sentence. Taking this as a sign from the great beyond, the island's Council decides Nollop is challenging them to do without whatever letter has just fallen. As the people of Nollop brush aside letters, so does Mark Dunn, the author. One by one, bits of the alphabet disappear from the novel until the only ones left are LMNOP (coincidentally, the name of the book's protagonist...A-HA!).
I won't spoil how it ends, but this book is just insanely clever. I sat in awe from page one until the end, with a massive sh*t-eating grin on my face because HOW AWESOMELY INVENTIVE! And the language, epistolary style, and narrative are just so charming and whimsical. It's a sweet, brilliant tale and an absolute MUST-READ for logophiles everywhere.
I absolutely recommend this to anyone looking for an enjoyable, quick read, but especially to people who love letters, word play, and vocabularistic challenges.


In other news, no, I'm not better, but thanks to all 2 of you who asked. I now have a sinus infection and bronchitis, which I figured would be the case. It's always been thus. Even when I was little...like, Michael would get a cold and two days later he'd be running around playing. I'd get the same cold and two days later I'd be breathing out of a tube in the hospital. If you know an asthmatic, hug them. It's not contagious, I promise.

So I don't know how much longer I'll have to miss school and stuff, but I barely have the energy to go downstairs, much less trudge my way through UCF. *sigh*

I have been doing lots of reading (like, weeks' worth. However, I still don't know what to write my paper on...the one that's due in a week. Yeah.), watching "Pushing Daisies," "The Office," and "A Bit of Fry and Laurie" (since laughter's the best medicine. I FIRMLY BELIEVE THIS.), and becoming a Spider Solitaire champ. Bixby's thrilled though, because instead of leaving him every day to go DO STUFF I basically go from room to room and just lie there. And he's overjoyed that I'm partaking in his favorite activities (namely, sleeping and doing nothing). So he's well-pleased.

I am sick. This happens every year at this time without fail, and has since I was in pre-k. I think going back to school just exposes me to a TON of germs and then I get sick. Awesome.

My classes are going well. Actually, Editing is my hardest one. If I wasn't in that class, this would be my dream semester. As it stands, I AM in that class and unpleasant though it may be, it's probably the most useful as far as careers go (unless I want to become a pirate. Then my pirate class would be much more useful.).

Luckily though, I've managed to stay on top of my work and reading. I have a LOT of reading this semester, which is fine by me. My Gothic lit novels have been highly entertaining so far, and actually, the reading for my history class hasn't been terrible either. My Editing textbook, however, is the most egregiously boring thing I've had to read since What Maisie Knew (sorry, Henry James, but your story about a little girl caught in the middle of an early 20th century divorce did NOTHING for me). But again...useful information. Just boring to digest. Kind of like salad.

What's nice is that I have the long weekend and Tuesday off to recover. So I hope I start feeling slightly more human by Wednesday. All I can hope is that it doesn't become bronchitis, which frequently happens within my crappy, pneumatic/asthmatic lungs. I'd like a new set of lungs for Christmas...this has also been true since pre-k.


So anyway, TL;DR: I feel like crap, I have until Wednesday to try and get better, and my life is pretty much the same as always. Which means I read.



Oh, I did have a total pity party this afternoon, because both my parents and my brother were out on dates today (my parents with each other, mind you), and I was at home going through boxes of tissues, watching stupid Youtube videos, and drinking OJ like it was my duty.

Usually I don't get bummed about my lack of a personal life...I usually enjoy it. But sometimes, y'know.

In case you were wondering, that was not an invitation for you to ask me out. I will say no.

I am a thistle sifter. I sift thistles.

My mother and I had a disagreement about the above ad. Or rather, the model in the ad. The male one.

According to her, he is hot and she thinks that I should be, and I quote, "locked in a room with him for 4 days." My reaction?


He looks creepy! He looks like a total tosser with no personality and fewer brain cells. Also, his quasi-beard-thing looks like it could potentially injure you. Also his chest hair weirds me out. I don't know. He just does NOTHING for me.

SO, who do you agree with? This is purely out of curiosity.

Is this guy hot or not?

Meh.

I'M BAAACK!!!

That was a completely useless exercise. Turns out I'm not even angry enough at the world to delete my Facebook for a whole week.



Gratuitous picture of my life.

P***Y OUT

or

if you're so inclined (I do love me some snotty young Malfoy).

Anyway, whatever, I'm back on Facebook. YOU CAN ALL START READING MY BLOG AGAIN.

"For in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own."

{Photo Credit}

My life has become utterly boring.

I'd like to blame this on a few things:
a) All of my friends are either busy leading real lives or they don't live near enough to me for us to engage in shenanigans
b) I only go to school 1 day a week and work minimal hours at the world's dullest job
c)...I'm sure I had a third reason, but it escapes me at the moment.

This new era in dullness has, unfortunately, seeped its way into my blog. This is why I could never be paid to write. Because one week I'm exploding with ideas and things to say, and the next, I enter into an inescapable dry spell which lasts, in this case, MONTHS.

I didn't even remember to properly celebrate my blog's bday this past January. How sad! I'll celebrate the 1.5 milestone in June, I suppose.

So, what have I been doing? Well, school, generally. Some kickboxing and zumba. Dreaming up ways I'd love to decorate an apartment WHEN I finally get one. Wishing to God I had a degree and could start trying to find a job and be a "real" person. Imagining lesson plans I'd like to teach future students one day far off in the future. Wishing I had an endless source of money and knowing I'd be no happier with it even I did. Wondering how girls like Kate Middleton manage to bag a prince and if there are steps one can take to accomplish the same. ;) Reading. I'm always reading. But at least this semester I'm reading loads of Jane Austen, which feels like pleasure but is actually work. So I'm quite alright with that.

My two favorites remain Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. For those of you who've read them, or who might read them, scratch the prince sentiment above: I want Colonel Brandon. :)))

My education courses are teaching me NOTHING (although I did get invited by one girl in my class to a "pleasure party," whereupon I found out that this is a kind of party in which a representative from an "adult emporium" comes to one's house, pedals their wares, and games are played with said wares. It concerns me that this girl will one day be teaching my kids and their friends...), but thankfully, there are plethora of books teaching one how to teach. I will read these later, when I'm finished being a lit major and having massive heaps of required reading.

Speaking of required reading, I think my eyes are going bad. I've had my glasses about four years and all of a sudden, they've stopped working. Which means I can read for about an hour before I get these lovely, skull-splitting headaches. I have an appointment this Thursday. Let's hope I'm not as blind as I sometimes feel.

Also, in one of my "side readings" (the things I read on the side), I read about an 18th century account of the condom. It was pretty hysterical, actually, until I realized that I was sitting in my house, alone, laughing so hard I was crying over pig intestine condoms tied up with pink satin ribbon (it's official. I'm a 12 year old boy when it comes to that stuff).

But seriously, there was a guy named DOCTOR CONDOM. I CAN'T be the only one who finds that amusing, right????


*sigh*
Anyway. This is a snapshot of my life at this moment. I apologize to my regular readers for the lack of quality material lately. Give me some time, ask me questions, give me some suggestions. Tell me I'm a berk for all I care. Just bear with me through "the dry spell." I've got a couple things in my snarky back pocket, just in case. ;)

"Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony...

...which is why I shall end up an old maid."
-Elizabeth Bennet

Self-deprecation aside, I love this commercial:


:')
(Not sure about the site though...apparently it's scammy. STILL. CUTE COMMERCIAL IS CUTE.)

Geek porn.

These pics give me palpitations. I especially love that last one. The rug, the pillows, organized by color, PUG?!? Be still, my beating heart!

"Leverage," says you. "I think I feel a change in the wind," says I.

I feel like, right now, I'm stuck between points A and B. I'm not where I was and so I can't go back, but I'm not yet where I'm going and so it's hard to move forward. I mean, I know I'm moving forward. But I guess I can't tell. Like being on a moving sidewalk--I don't feel like I'm moving because my feet aren't moving, but I'm being slowly ushered ahead anyway.

I don't mind it, I guess. It just gets tiring sometimes, wondering what the ultimate outcome will be. We all technically have a plan. Sometimes it just gets hard to see if you're actually accomplishing it when you're the one trudging through. Perspective, perspective, perspective...


Not knowing is half the adventure, I suppose. I should probably just shut up and enjoy the present while I can, because you never know when you might actually be in "the good ol' days."

TL;DR: I'm tired. And I'm not sure where this is all going, but I'm equal parts excited and terrified to find out.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned...

I gave out my fake number again.

I'm not guilty about that though for two reasons:
1. This guy was legit creepy.
2. I do this enough that I've stopped feeling bad about it.

Here's the bad part. You wanna know what name I have him?

ALICE HOLMES.

Really, creativity? That's the BEST you could do??



^^Me, apparently.


All of this really begs the question: Oh, Romeo, Romeo, WHEREFORE ART THOU, Romeo??

One day, I will meet a guy and give him my REAL number.

Until then, yours sincerely,
Alice Holmes.

General life update stuff.

Hi, guys!

I know I've been quiet...sporadic at best. There's been a lot going on, most of it school-related. And because of that, I feel like there's very little interesting enough to report on. But I will try my best.

Let's see.

House update! Since the flood (like, 2 months ago), we finally got all the wood floors fixed and redone. The guys who pulled it all up said it was still wet under there, and if we'd waited much longer we would've started growing mold. NO BUENO. Now we're in a hurry to get the kitchen going. Unfortunately, the kitchen is going to be a MAJOR project. The cabinets all need to be ripped out, which means that the appliances, countertops and floors will all need to be removed as well. So basically, once they start working on it, we will have a dusty disaster of a concrete shell where our kitchen used to be. I'm not looking forward to that. I am, however, looking forward to the new kitchen, because even though we weren't planning on renovating the entire thing, the stuff we picked out is going to look wicked sweet.

Mostly though, I'm excited to get my bathroom back. Also needs new tile, cabinetry and plumbing (since that was the root of all this evil). Michael's been exceedingly patient and generous, letting me use his. I owe him BIG TIME. Once things get going and are a little more settled, I'll post pics of our renovations.

I've been looking for a puse like this one

because I love the stripes and the bow. SO Tim Burtony!!! It would be perfect for fall and stuff. Alas, it's a Lulu Guinness, which means it's €225 (roughly 350 US dollars). Soooo that's not going to happen. But I'm looking for an affordable alternative and if I come up with one, you will be the first to know. Naturally, what will happen, is in about two years vertical black and white stripes will be the trendiest thing ever and they'll be everywhere. Once I'm done needing it NOW. This is always how it is.

Hmm, what am I reading? I'm in the process of my third read of Jane Eyre. I adore that book. It gets better every time you read it. There is so much to say about it...mostly, I love Rochester (even though according to Bronte, he looks like this.). He's the typical Byronic hero. Whereas my last professor who taught Jane Eyre focused on it as a feminist novel, this professor raised an interesting point I hadn't thought of before: the story is equally about Jane and Rochester. While we see the journey from Jane's POV, Rochester is on an equally harsh journey, perhaps even moreso than Jane. While she struggles with personal vs. societal identity, Rochester has to come to terms with who he is, what he's lost, and if there's any hope for regaining himself and his hopes in the future. I really wish there was a Jane Eyre from his POV. It'd be very interesting. Probably moreso than Jane's. Especially when she wanders around the moors, gets "brain fever," and shacks up with her weirdo preacher cousin. While all that's happening, Rochester is battling his CLINICALLY INSANE WIFE IN THE ATTIC and escaping his burning manor home. And pining after Jane, even though he's old enough to be her father. And he gets deformed.

It's SO GOOD. Read it or buy it. Ninety-nine cents. You officially have no excuse.

Short Stories I'd Recommend
This week's list is short because we kind of read a lot of Kafka, and I could never recommend Kafka (if he's your thing, go for it! But I don't care for him and thus, won't rec him). I only have three, but they're good:


1."A Good Man is Hard to Find," by Flannery O'Connor.
In which a judgmental old grandmother ultimately leads her family to their unfortunate demise--ON VACATION. Also, the first line is awesome, but I'm probably biased. They SHOULD have gone to Florida!


2. "A&P" by John Updike.
Updike is probably one of the greatest short story writers ever to live, and this story is pretty clever. I really like how honest it is. Even though the narrator comes off as a stupid, sexist teenaged guy, it's an extremely honest narrative told from said narrator's POV. I liked it.



3. "The Cask of Amontillado," by Edgar Allan Poe.
I mentioned before that "The Lottery" vies for my #1 best short story place. This is the story it competes with. This tale is so utterly Poe-like. The setting, the names...it's loaded with irony and Poe's sick little twisted sense of humor. And per usual, Poe, the master wordsmith, weaves this tale together perfectly. It's chilling and awesome. READ IT NOW.


Sorry I don't have more interesting things to write. That's always a good sign to me that I'm spending too much time looking in and back, and not enough time looking out and around. It's good, these reminders. It's good to get things back into perspective and realize there's a whole, hilarious world out there for us to explore. Why waste it with worries? :)