You guys make me smile. Stay awesome; keep loving each other. And here's to another 11 years of rainbows!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Dear Favorite Boyband
Arashi, congratulations, and happy 11th birthday! You crazy bastards changed my life for the better, and you did it in the most fabulous and traumatizing way possible.
Major freak-out (a good one)
...This has been an interesting experience. So I knew that I really, really wanted to keep riding. But since I also knew that paying for it would be troublesome or just not possible, I kind of figured that if I had to, I could wait a semester.
Only when I just got the email that my first lesson is this Friday....well. I was REALLY FUCKING HAPPY. Uncontrollably so. I could feel my heart going THUMPITY WHUMPITY THUMP. Which, you know, hearts don't usually do.
My conclusion: I couldn't give this up. I can't. Not happening. I can live without a television, without my family, without privacy or personal space. I can't live without the Internet, and I can't live without horses. And if it came down to it, I'd easily pick the latter.
I'm kind of proud of myself, and also damn lucky, because I've had something to love for all these years.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A brief update
Tragically, dances in California are just as awkward, if not more, than dances at home. This is okay though, because I've discovered the magic of Netflix movies online. And also, Waterworld, which I may have loved more than a strictly sane individual would.
It was still really fucking hilarious though.
I've also realized that they do in fact have some of the Pokemon movies online (thank you, O Netflix-y god) so that's going to be on the playlist after I finish Firefly and Mortal Kombat. Yes, there's a Mortal Kombat movie. Homework is NOT getting done.
Speaking of HW, I have a 110 page reading on women. I'm dying just a little inside.
That's all.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
A reflection on GW and life
Oh God, how to explain....I'll start from the very top, then.
About five or six years ago, back when I was a wee baby fanbrat, I realized that several of my favorite authors wrote for a series called Gundam Wing. Having absolutely no idea how this sort of thing is supposed to go, I started reading the stories without having ever watched an episode.
In fact, I read so much that I kind of developed this idea of how the series was SUPPOSED to be as opposed to how it actually is: when I tried to watch it for the first time, I was kind of disappointed. That plus the fact that it was ridiculously hard to find subtitled (English VAs can all go die now) meant I got up to.....about episode 7. Out of 49.
It's still been just about my favorite fandom ever this whole time, of course. Gundam Wing is kind of my lifeblood. But I'd never seen it all the way through.
And then finally, twelve days ago, I saw that a high-quality, subtitled version of the whole series was online. Free.
The catch? It was going offline at midnight, twelve days from that day. Imagine the shock, and also the growing sense of obligation. This was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime chance, mostly because I'm a cheapskate and buying a whole set of episodes is goddamn expensive.
So what did I do? I watched anywhere from two to two and a half hours of Gundam Wing every single day. And today, at 12:00, right when the series was taken off the site, I finished the 49th and final episode.
...Now, of course I have no idea what to do with my life. Because really, that was pretty much the one accomplishment that I've always said I'd get to during the past five years, but never did. I mean, I graduated middle school AND high school before I watched this show. I got into college. I got my first job. I went on my first date.
And now I can add 'I've watched Gundam Wing' to that list, and that's damn scary. I'm overreacting, I'll get over it, but right now, it feels like the end of an era....well, if there's one thing I've learned from watching, it's this:
Never fear the destruction of your giant robot (or the impending departure from all you've known). There are always mad scientists around who will build you a more badass version, and outer space is calling.
On to bigger, better, and brighter things. HOOHAA!
About five or six years ago, back when I was a wee baby fanbrat, I realized that several of my favorite authors wrote for a series called Gundam Wing. Having absolutely no idea how this sort of thing is supposed to go, I started reading the stories without having ever watched an episode.
In fact, I read so much that I kind of developed this idea of how the series was SUPPOSED to be as opposed to how it actually is: when I tried to watch it for the first time, I was kind of disappointed. That plus the fact that it was ridiculously hard to find subtitled (English VAs can all go die now) meant I got up to.....about episode 7. Out of 49.
It's still been just about my favorite fandom ever this whole time, of course. Gundam Wing is kind of my lifeblood. But I'd never seen it all the way through.
And then finally, twelve days ago, I saw that a high-quality, subtitled version of the whole series was online. Free.
The catch? It was going offline at midnight, twelve days from that day. Imagine the shock, and also the growing sense of obligation. This was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime chance, mostly because I'm a cheapskate and buying a whole set of episodes is goddamn expensive.
So what did I do? I watched anywhere from two to two and a half hours of Gundam Wing every single day. And today, at 12:00, right when the series was taken off the site, I finished the 49th and final episode.
...Now, of course I have no idea what to do with my life. Because really, that was pretty much the one accomplishment that I've always said I'd get to during the past five years, but never did. I mean, I graduated middle school AND high school before I watched this show. I got into college. I got my first job. I went on my first date.
And now I can add 'I've watched Gundam Wing' to that list, and that's damn scary. I'm overreacting, I'll get over it, but right now, it feels like the end of an era....well, if there's one thing I've learned from watching, it's this:
Never fear the destruction of your giant robot (or the impending departure from all you've known). There are always mad scientists around who will build you a more badass version, and outer space is calling.
On to bigger, better, and brighter things. HOOHAA!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
On the naming of things
Clash of the Titans: Titans. Will. Clash.
Only, you know. Too much clash, not enough titans.
And by not enough, I mean NONE AT ALL.
Which wasn't even really the main problem of this movie, it's just something I find funny. Considering I stink at coming up with titles for things, it's good to know that somewhere out there, there are people who are JUST AS BAD. And they probably get paid for it.
Really, though, there's a fine balance between telling too much in your title, and having one that isn't related at all to your story. You have to make it sound meaningful without it being too cheesy. It needs to have panache.
You should never, in one notable example that I've heard about, name a story "Loofah". This is pretty much the cardinal rule of titles.
I'm...not sure what else I wanted to say.
Clash of the Titans was ridiculous and funny, but not quite as great as I'd hoped (same as a lot of recent movies). I would say my standards have risen, but considering I think it's time to go back and rewatch Dune....yeah. Standards? What standards?
That's okay with me.
Only, you know. Too much clash, not enough titans.
And by not enough, I mean NONE AT ALL.
Which wasn't even really the main problem of this movie, it's just something I find funny. Considering I stink at coming up with titles for things, it's good to know that somewhere out there, there are people who are JUST AS BAD. And they probably get paid for it.
Really, though, there's a fine balance between telling too much in your title, and having one that isn't related at all to your story. You have to make it sound meaningful without it being too cheesy. It needs to have panache.
You should never, in one notable example that I've heard about, name a story "Loofah". This is pretty much the cardinal rule of titles.
I'm...not sure what else I wanted to say.
Clash of the Titans was ridiculous and funny, but not quite as great as I'd hoped (same as a lot of recent movies). I would say my standards have risen, but considering I think it's time to go back and rewatch Dune....yeah. Standards? What standards?
That's okay with me.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Prom-related things
Ehe.
I got a prom dress! And shoes! And, okay, this is kind of weird but even though they're not super conventional prom-wear, I think they work. Because they represent WHO I AM IN MY SOUL.
Seriously, it's kind of awesome. The dress is this floor length, fairly simple affair with one flowing sleeve (because I'm cool like that) and it's kind of beautiful and also kind of like something an old woman at the Oscars would wear. Which is good, because I'm not all young and girly and flirty and cute. I'm old and stodgy and prudish and turtle-like.
The shoes are even more awesome in a way, mostly because when I look down at my feet they look like little brown Spartans waring silver-grey helmets. This amuses me to no end, and also makes me want to stomp my feet and shout "THIS IS SPAHTUH!"
In a perfect world, I would then kick someone into a pit of death with my badass five-inch heels.
Also, I'm proud of myself, because it turns out I've upped my tolerance for shopping! I used to wimp out after an hour or two (8th grade graduation dress) and this time I lasted five and a half hours with one coffee break. I also walked several miles in order to accomplish this. All in all, it was kind of an epic excursion.
Which is good, considering how much this next week is going to suck. No time for epic excursions when one has several tests, an awards ceremony, piano classes to teach, and WAY TOO MUCH HOMEWORK FOR SENIOR SPRING.
I got a prom dress! And shoes! And, okay, this is kind of weird but even though they're not super conventional prom-wear, I think they work. Because they represent WHO I AM IN MY SOUL.
Seriously, it's kind of awesome. The dress is this floor length, fairly simple affair with one flowing sleeve (because I'm cool like that) and it's kind of beautiful and also kind of like something an old woman at the Oscars would wear. Which is good, because I'm not all young and girly and flirty and cute. I'm old and stodgy and prudish and turtle-like.
The shoes are even more awesome in a way, mostly because when I look down at my feet they look like little brown Spartans waring silver-grey helmets. This amuses me to no end, and also makes me want to stomp my feet and shout "THIS IS SPAHTUH!"
In a perfect world, I would then kick someone into a pit of death with my badass five-inch heels.
Also, I'm proud of myself, because it turns out I've upped my tolerance for shopping! I used to wimp out after an hour or two (8th grade graduation dress) and this time I lasted five and a half hours with one coffee break. I also walked several miles in order to accomplish this. All in all, it was kind of an epic excursion.
Which is good, considering how much this next week is going to suck. No time for epic excursions when one has several tests, an awards ceremony, piano classes to teach, and WAY TOO MUCH HOMEWORK FOR SENIOR SPRING.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Change? Maybe?
I'm feeling better! And...yeah, I was being silly. I stick to my guns on some of the things I touched on, but I am feeling all centered and Zen and shit, which is pretty awesome. I'd still like it if the weather was nicer, for example, because let's be honest and just all admit that however much we do or do not like the rain, NOBODY likes the soggy dead sidewalk worms. I'm so over that.
I'm also curious. Why do people seem so opposed to internal change becoming external? I'm not being critical, I'm just wondering. I know most people entertain the notion of remaking themselves at certain points in their lives - when they change schools/locations, for example - but this seems to depend on two things. First, that they cannot change unless there is some other sort of transition going on; second, that they can't change while there are still people around who know their "old" selves. This....seems flawed. I've definitely felt the same way, and so I understand that people will feel this way, I'm just not so sure WHY we do.
Maybe I'm just feeling grumbly because I've been taking a turn towards *gasp* the more girly side of life--without abandoning anything else, thank you very much. Really, though, I wonder how much of my own change is, well, actual change. I'm pretty sure that for all of my talk about being a fatty rock in the river of high school, I'm more in denial than I'd like to admit (unless, of course, it's late and I'm tired and feeling very shmoopy). I've always wanted to experiment with makeup, I just never had a)...makeup, b) knowledge, and c) the steadiness of hand required. In the same vein, I've always wanted to dress in a way that's both comfortable and nice, but I'm cheap and also lazy, and so I usually go for just comfortable.
Now, that's not to say I'm upset with the way I've come across over the past four years; on the contrary, I think I did myself a lot of good. I've toned some things down and made other things stronger, and I LIKE the changes. But again, I wasn't really going around creating new pieces of personality for myself, even if nobody except me knew that.
Hmm. I seem to have lost my train of thought, and with it whatever point I was going to make. Something about "everybody should be themselves, regardless of what that means for them in their soul!" You know, an appropriate, Disney-esque sort of thing.
I'm sure you can come up with something on your own, which means I don't have to sit here coming up with a witty way to end the post. Woohoo.
I'm also curious. Why do people seem so opposed to internal change becoming external? I'm not being critical, I'm just wondering. I know most people entertain the notion of remaking themselves at certain points in their lives - when they change schools/locations, for example - but this seems to depend on two things. First, that they cannot change unless there is some other sort of transition going on; second, that they can't change while there are still people around who know their "old" selves. This....seems flawed. I've definitely felt the same way, and so I understand that people will feel this way, I'm just not so sure WHY we do.
Maybe I'm just feeling grumbly because I've been taking a turn towards *gasp* the more girly side of life--without abandoning anything else, thank you very much. Really, though, I wonder how much of my own change is, well, actual change. I'm pretty sure that for all of my talk about being a fatty rock in the river of high school, I'm more in denial than I'd like to admit (unless, of course, it's late and I'm tired and feeling very shmoopy). I've always wanted to experiment with makeup, I just never had a)...makeup, b) knowledge, and c) the steadiness of hand required. In the same vein, I've always wanted to dress in a way that's both comfortable and nice, but I'm cheap and also lazy, and so I usually go for just comfortable.
Now, that's not to say I'm upset with the way I've come across over the past four years; on the contrary, I think I did myself a lot of good. I've toned some things down and made other things stronger, and I LIKE the changes. But again, I wasn't really going around creating new pieces of personality for myself, even if nobody except me knew that.
Hmm. I seem to have lost my train of thought, and with it whatever point I was going to make. Something about "everybody should be themselves, regardless of what that means for them in their soul!" You know, an appropriate, Disney-esque sort of thing.
I'm sure you can come up with something on your own, which means I don't have to sit here coming up with a witty way to end the post. Woohoo.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Fixing my own obnoxiousness
Oh, for the days of B-grade martial arts movies. For the days when the wise old mentor says, "Draw your sword," and you better draw the goddamn sword before he slices your face off. Comparatively, our teachers are CODDLING us.
Not that I really mind. After all, it is senior spring, and I have taken up shadow puppetry because what the hell, it's not like I have anything better (that I'm willing) to do. I wish I did, but I don't. It's either make shadow puppets or take up fishing in the ocean of my own tears.
Of course, I could be doing homework, but where's the fun in that? Getting stuff done before 11:00 PM is so overrated. So is sleep. And good health. And general mental stability. TOTALLY OVERRATED.
....Yeah, I'm not doing so great right now. Shush.
What I really want to do is go back to Kelsey Creek. Everything's so straightforward. I want to spend time around horses, doing something that requires effort I actually want to put in to it. I want to be outside, in the sun. I want to wear a t-shirt and shorts all day long and look like a flat-chested freshman or sophomore-aged girl. I also want to stop eating so much; I eat when I'm bored and when I'm discontented, and there's a lot of that in my life right now. I haven't gained that much weight, but I've put on a lot of blubber around my tummy that I don't need. Usually over the summer I trim down a little; this summer I want to actively try and lose a little weight.
Problem is, in the dieting/exercise area of my life, I'm just as unmotivated as I am in the do schoolwork/get more sleep area. Nothing really motivates me anymore. WOE AND MELODRAMA ABOUNDS.
And, okay, as much as I usually like myself, right now I'm kind of irritated with how I've been acting. Apologies all around. I feel like I've been clingy, whiny, and kind of pathetic for a long time now. Maybe this will get it out of my system, maybe not. Hopefully this will be the equivalent of sitting myself down and saying, "Get over yourself and man up."
I need to take my own advice, seriously. Or perhaps the advice of the sage Tallahassee: Nut up or shut up.
...Neither of which I can literally do. Damn.
Not that I really mind. After all, it is senior spring, and I have taken up shadow puppetry because what the hell, it's not like I have anything better (that I'm willing) to do. I wish I did, but I don't. It's either make shadow puppets or take up fishing in the ocean of my own tears.
Of course, I could be doing homework, but where's the fun in that? Getting stuff done before 11:00 PM is so overrated. So is sleep. And good health. And general mental stability. TOTALLY OVERRATED.
....Yeah, I'm not doing so great right now. Shush.
What I really want to do is go back to Kelsey Creek. Everything's so straightforward. I want to spend time around horses, doing something that requires effort I actually want to put in to it. I want to be outside, in the sun. I want to wear a t-shirt and shorts all day long and look like a flat-chested freshman or sophomore-aged girl. I also want to stop eating so much; I eat when I'm bored and when I'm discontented, and there's a lot of that in my life right now. I haven't gained that much weight, but I've put on a lot of blubber around my tummy that I don't need. Usually over the summer I trim down a little; this summer I want to actively try and lose a little weight.
Problem is, in the dieting/exercise area of my life, I'm just as unmotivated as I am in the do schoolwork/get more sleep area. Nothing really motivates me anymore. WOE AND MELODRAMA ABOUNDS.
And, okay, as much as I usually like myself, right now I'm kind of irritated with how I've been acting. Apologies all around. I feel like I've been clingy, whiny, and kind of pathetic for a long time now. Maybe this will get it out of my system, maybe not. Hopefully this will be the equivalent of sitting myself down and saying, "Get over yourself and man up."
I need to take my own advice, seriously. Or perhaps the advice of the sage Tallahassee: Nut up or shut up.
...Neither of which I can literally do. Damn.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I say happy too much
I am in pain from trying to stifle my laughter. Pain, I tell you!
Because you know, there's really no feeling better in the world than being happy because other people are happy. This...kind of goes back to that very strange Quizilla-esque 'what sort of psychic are you' post from a while ago; in short, I am addicted to people's happiness, and friendship, and general feelings of affection for others.
Which is actually a little sad, because it seems significantly easier to be happy like this, because of total strangers and fictional characters, than it is to be happy...because I am happy. I know that seems a little redundant, but I would argue that they're not the same thing at all. It's very self-sacrificing and Disney-movie to admit to, but perhaps it's more clear if I phrase it like this: I am happy because people I care about are happy.
It's different from, I'm happy because you guys are happy, and when you guys are happy you're more cheerful and therefore more fun to be around. These people have no effect on my life! And it's not like there aren't things that I put in the other category of my own happiness--I'm happy at the farm, volunteering. I'm happy sitting down and playing something beautiful on the piano. Etcetera. But these are more fleeting and less common than this other, mooching happiness.
...I need a life. Or real, tangible people to be around once again. Maybe I just don't see people enough? I see you all at school, but it's not exactly like there's tons of interaction there, and I'm just as much to blame as anyone else for that. And everyone's either busy enough that I don't want to plan things, or else things are planned, but they're last-minute enough that I don't bother asking my parents. Or I just don't want to go, because hell, if I'm being honest it's a lot easier to just get this weird, fake-happy from my computer and my books and my TV screen than to actually have a two-way relationship.
Wow, I'm lame. I mean, I knew it before, but ouch. I feel like everything older generations say about human communication going down the drain has just been exemplified. And I guess it's not like this blog helps much in terms of improving my face-to-face time...but it does work as a stand-in of sorts when all of you bitches are out of town having fabulous vacations. So there.
I guess the bottom line is, I'm happy, but I'm depressed about why I'm happy, and I miss you all (and by you all, I mean the singular Schmidt-reader--I suppose I'll have to find other, non-blog ways of telling everyone else).
Because you know, there's really no feeling better in the world than being happy because other people are happy. This...kind of goes back to that very strange Quizilla-esque 'what sort of psychic are you' post from a while ago; in short, I am addicted to people's happiness, and friendship, and general feelings of affection for others.
Which is actually a little sad, because it seems significantly easier to be happy like this, because of total strangers and fictional characters, than it is to be happy...because I am happy. I know that seems a little redundant, but I would argue that they're not the same thing at all. It's very self-sacrificing and Disney-movie to admit to, but perhaps it's more clear if I phrase it like this: I am happy because people I care about are happy.
It's different from, I'm happy because you guys are happy, and when you guys are happy you're more cheerful and therefore more fun to be around. These people have no effect on my life! And it's not like there aren't things that I put in the other category of my own happiness--I'm happy at the farm, volunteering. I'm happy sitting down and playing something beautiful on the piano. Etcetera. But these are more fleeting and less common than this other, mooching happiness.
...I need a life. Or real, tangible people to be around once again. Maybe I just don't see people enough? I see you all at school, but it's not exactly like there's tons of interaction there, and I'm just as much to blame as anyone else for that. And everyone's either busy enough that I don't want to plan things, or else things are planned, but they're last-minute enough that I don't bother asking my parents. Or I just don't want to go, because hell, if I'm being honest it's a lot easier to just get this weird, fake-happy from my computer and my books and my TV screen than to actually have a two-way relationship.
Wow, I'm lame. I mean, I knew it before, but ouch. I feel like everything older generations say about human communication going down the drain has just been exemplified. And I guess it's not like this blog helps much in terms of improving my face-to-face time...but it does work as a stand-in of sorts when all of you bitches are out of town having fabulous vacations. So there.
I guess the bottom line is, I'm happy, but I'm depressed about why I'm happy, and I miss you all (and by you all, I mean the singular Schmidt-reader--I suppose I'll have to find other, non-blog ways of telling everyone else).
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Hello, again (finally)
It's been a while, hasn't it?
And I realized just yesterday that I'd been neglecting my poor blog, which might explain why I've been feeling kind of...meh. Nobody to talk to!
And then I figured, what the hell, it's not like I'm not crazy enough to talk to myself!
So here I am, talking to myself.
I got nominated and won an award for volunteering, which was awesome. And now I'm super psyched to work the pony rides in April, because yay! Ponies! People who think I'm capable! And hopefully, since we've been having super mild weather, IT WON'T POUR LIKE IT DID A FEW YEARS AGO.
That was, Mother Nature, a big hint.
It also sums up why I want to get out of here. I love this place, I do. But.
I am so tired of the weather keeping me inside. I wouldn't mind snow, because snow is, at the very least, pretty to look at. But rain? Rain makes everything monotone grey and it's cold and nasty and all the dead worms on the sidewalk are DISGUSTING.
Really, all I want is no more dead sidewalk-worms. Is that too much to ask?
And when I went down to California a week or so ago it was like HALLELUJAH THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO BE. It's early February, and 70 degrees outside. It was so weird, but so wonderful.
Also, in a moment of weakness I've started watching America's Next Top Model....and I weep. Three reasons:
How, may I ask, does you get to be 18 years of age and not know what the word 'aloof' means? How you not understand that when nine other people hate your guts, it's not them, it's YOU? And scary Botox-ed models are scary.
That is all I have to share on the subject.
And I can tell right now I'm really out of practice on the whole blogging thing, so I apologize for the poorly-written nature of this post. I'll get better eventually.
And I realized just yesterday that I'd been neglecting my poor blog, which might explain why I've been feeling kind of...meh. Nobody to talk to!
And then I figured, what the hell, it's not like I'm not crazy enough to talk to myself!
So here I am, talking to myself.
I got nominated and won an award for volunteering, which was awesome. And now I'm super psyched to work the pony rides in April, because yay! Ponies! People who think I'm capable! And hopefully, since we've been having super mild weather, IT WON'T POUR LIKE IT DID A FEW YEARS AGO.
That was, Mother Nature, a big hint.
It also sums up why I want to get out of here. I love this place, I do. But.
I am so tired of the weather keeping me inside. I wouldn't mind snow, because snow is, at the very least, pretty to look at. But rain? Rain makes everything monotone grey and it's cold and nasty and all the dead worms on the sidewalk are DISGUSTING.
Really, all I want is no more dead sidewalk-worms. Is that too much to ask?
And when I went down to California a week or so ago it was like HALLELUJAH THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO BE. It's early February, and 70 degrees outside. It was so weird, but so wonderful.
Also, in a moment of weakness I've started watching America's Next Top Model....and I weep. Three reasons:
How, may I ask, does you get to be 18 years of age and not know what the word 'aloof' means? How you not understand that when nine other people hate your guts, it's not them, it's YOU? And scary Botox-ed models are scary.
That is all I have to share on the subject.
And I can tell right now I'm really out of practice on the whole blogging thing, so I apologize for the poorly-written nature of this post. I'll get better eventually.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
On being bored
Let me speak to you about trivialities. It is 10:30 and I'm a little hungry already, because I only had a pop-tart for breakfast. I have strawberries and a bagel for lunch, but I don't want to eat either now, because then I'll be hungry again in a few hours. I've finished all my homework except for math for today and tomorrow, and I will have very little to do tonight.
That was sufficiently boring, no?
I'm not even really sure why I took the trouble of typing all that out, except that I literally have one great big blank in my mind right now. I'm on...fiction-writing mode, or something, because I'm having no problems coming up with stories and whatnot, but I can't think about anything more tangible than that.
Also, screw it. I'm hungry, and I can always buy something from the cafeteria later. BAGEL TIME.
The taste of a bagel with cream cheese and salami is actually one of the few tastes that I can clearly REMEMBER after I've eaten it. Not sure why, but if I think about it, I can always "taste" it mentally. It's pretty much the only food where this happens, and it's not even one of my favorites. Who knew? (Answer: nobody, because this too is extremely lame and not something people think about unless they're bored out of their minds).
Which might be my problem. I have nothing to do! I do most of my homework (except for math, which I'm strangely reluctant about) fairly quickly, and then I'm left twiddling my thumbs for hours. The cold weather makes me want to be somewhere warm, and therefore I avoid the majority of the house. The bathroom, my room, and the study are just about the only three places I ever spend any significant amount of time in, and the first one is only on that list because hot showers are the BEST. And because I'm a bit of a wasteful water buffalo, I sometimes take really long showers because I don't want to get out and be cold again. Quite the big problem, I know.
Anyways, the result of being bored is that I in turn become boring. I do things like play clock solitaire in my free time.
....And that's about it.
That was sufficiently boring, no?
I'm not even really sure why I took the trouble of typing all that out, except that I literally have one great big blank in my mind right now. I'm on...fiction-writing mode, or something, because I'm having no problems coming up with stories and whatnot, but I can't think about anything more tangible than that.
Also, screw it. I'm hungry, and I can always buy something from the cafeteria later. BAGEL TIME.
The taste of a bagel with cream cheese and salami is actually one of the few tastes that I can clearly REMEMBER after I've eaten it. Not sure why, but if I think about it, I can always "taste" it mentally. It's pretty much the only food where this happens, and it's not even one of my favorites. Who knew? (Answer: nobody, because this too is extremely lame and not something people think about unless they're bored out of their minds).
Which might be my problem. I have nothing to do! I do most of my homework (except for math, which I'm strangely reluctant about) fairly quickly, and then I'm left twiddling my thumbs for hours. The cold weather makes me want to be somewhere warm, and therefore I avoid the majority of the house. The bathroom, my room, and the study are just about the only three places I ever spend any significant amount of time in, and the first one is only on that list because hot showers are the BEST. And because I'm a bit of a wasteful water buffalo, I sometimes take really long showers because I don't want to get out and be cold again. Quite the big problem, I know.
Anyways, the result of being bored is that I in turn become boring. I do things like play clock solitaire in my free time.
....And that's about it.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Spring cleaning of the brain
It's the return of emotional brain-lint! Or something like it!
I suppose I should apologize again--I'm not entirely sure why I'm in such a foul mood, but the fact remains that I am. I'm having weird mood swings (from sad to angry to relatively not-sad and back to sad again) and no strange food cravings and it just hit me that I might be suffering from chocolate-withdrawal. Whatever it is, it would be awesome if it stopped.
Perhaps it's simply that I've forced happiness from my brain for the past few weeks and now it's throwing in the towel--the Anat.-Phys. people would be able to tell me what exactly in my brain has crashed, but frankly it doesn't matter. The point stands: I am miserable and prone to fits of tantrum-esque behavior.
And goddamn it, it's about time I nut up (figuratively, of course) and just fucking do something about it. I have a PLAN.
Step 1: Chocolate. Who gives a damn that it's pretty close to dinner time? Mint chocolate is heaven on earth.
Step 2: Stupid, ridiculous, wonderful music videos. Thank you, Japan + Youtube. Your babies make me happy, even if they're color-blind and uncoordinated as hell.
Step 3: My favorite books and comics and stories and movies. Especially the ones involving sci-fi nerdery. Hello, sandworms!
Step 4: Sleep.
And there it is. I'll have to report back and see if it actually works, but it seems pretty damn solid to me.
Also, I need to spend more time with the Triduum, watching movies like New Moon or Tank Girl or, God forbid we ever see something this bad again: From Chandni Chowk to China.
I suppose I should apologize again--I'm not entirely sure why I'm in such a foul mood, but the fact remains that I am. I'm having weird mood swings (from sad to angry to relatively not-sad and back to sad again) and no strange food cravings and it just hit me that I might be suffering from chocolate-withdrawal. Whatever it is, it would be awesome if it stopped.
Perhaps it's simply that I've forced happiness from my brain for the past few weeks and now it's throwing in the towel--the Anat.-Phys. people would be able to tell me what exactly in my brain has crashed, but frankly it doesn't matter. The point stands: I am miserable and prone to fits of tantrum-esque behavior.
And goddamn it, it's about time I nut up (figuratively, of course) and just fucking do something about it. I have a PLAN.
Step 1: Chocolate. Who gives a damn that it's pretty close to dinner time? Mint chocolate is heaven on earth.
Step 2: Stupid, ridiculous, wonderful music videos. Thank you, Japan + Youtube. Your babies make me happy, even if they're color-blind and uncoordinated as hell.
Step 3: My favorite books and comics and stories and movies. Especially the ones involving sci-fi nerdery. Hello, sandworms!
Step 4: Sleep.
And there it is. I'll have to report back and see if it actually works, but it seems pretty damn solid to me.
Also, I need to spend more time with the Triduum, watching movies like New Moon or Tank Girl or, God forbid we ever see something this bad again: From Chandni Chowk to China.
Monday, January 18, 2010
I apologize in advance...
...for the following mope.
I mean, it's spring. Kind of.
I am filled with a strange kind of reluctance to stay attached to people, because goddamn if I can get depressed over a fish dying, then going off to college is going to make me want to jump off a bridge.
I say this, but you shouldn't worry, because I always think I'll be more depressed/lonely/homesick than I really ever am. If there's one thing I've found, it's that I have absolutely no troubles moving on. I live in the moment when it comes to things like this: I will be terribly sad at graduation, and again when I'm actually, physically, leaving. And then in a few days or less, I will be excited and happy and I won't really miss anyone.
Sad, but true. Perhaps that's why I try to form deep attachments to things; I know that as soon as they're gone, they will be forgotten. Treasure what I have while it lasts, and all that.
On a happier note, I am planning on reading so much this semester, it's going to be awesome. I'm a wordnerd of the highest degree, and I have the time to really indulge this semester. Once upon a time I pretty much lived in my school library, and I plan on returning to my roots. I'm not a huge fan of the high school's library, unfortunately, but really any comfortable patch of carpet will do.
Also, another happy note: I have good friends. I have a good friend who wants to take me shopping and do my makeup and find me a gorgeous prom dress. And all I can say is "THANK GOD" because I trust her taste about a thousand times more than I trust my own.
And I like going shopping with her, because she doesn't put up with my shopping-induced whining. When we went to buy graduation dresses in 8th grade, I was pretty much done trying stuff on after....half an hour, max, and so I turned into a bratty, glaring little kid.
Me: Okay, this is ridiculous. I'm not trying anything else on! I'm done.
Her: Shut up and wear the dress.
Me:...Fine.
And that was that. I totally don't have the guts to stand up to her about shopping, which is a good thing, because I loved the dress we finally found. And she is volunteering herself right now to take me shopping for prom, which means inevitably she won't let me put things off until the last minute. And equally inevitable is that I will love the dress she finds, and that it's going to make me look better than anything else I've worn all year (not saying much, as my wardrobe this year consists of my sweatshirt and jeans and snow boots).
Speaking of wardrobes, though, I am kind of amused by how little I've changed. I mean, in theory I've tried to find clothes that look better, but in practice? Everything is still saggy or bulgy or just plain unfortunate. And still comfortable, and also just about the only thing I feel confident leaving the house in. Maybe it's that sort of logic where if I don't try to pull off something that might look good, I don't run the risk of looking like a kid playing dress-up. If I dress like...well, not like a slob, per se, but like I don't have the energy to put on anything more complex than a shirt and jeans, at least I'm maintaining the status quo.
I have a really hard time feeling confident in some of the nicer articles of clothing I've bought over the years. I buy them, and I've literally never worn them. Nor do I think that will change. For example, I got a really nice pair of boots for my birthday. Have I worn them yet? No. Will I wear them? No.
It makes me kind of sad, but I figure that any self-confidence I may possess ends here.
And no, getting compliments will not change that. Really. I mean, either you have it or you don't, and the compliments of the well-intentioned do nothing except make me more depressed because it DOESN'T MATTER. I will never wear those boots unless a) someone sits me down and literally makes me wear them out of the house or b) I magically develop the guts to do so.
Emphasis on magically.
I mean, it's spring. Kind of.
I am filled with a strange kind of reluctance to stay attached to people, because goddamn if I can get depressed over a fish dying, then going off to college is going to make me want to jump off a bridge.
I say this, but you shouldn't worry, because I always think I'll be more depressed/lonely/homesick than I really ever am. If there's one thing I've found, it's that I have absolutely no troubles moving on. I live in the moment when it comes to things like this: I will be terribly sad at graduation, and again when I'm actually, physically, leaving. And then in a few days or less, I will be excited and happy and I won't really miss anyone.
Sad, but true. Perhaps that's why I try to form deep attachments to things; I know that as soon as they're gone, they will be forgotten. Treasure what I have while it lasts, and all that.
On a happier note, I am planning on reading so much this semester, it's going to be awesome. I'm a wordnerd of the highest degree, and I have the time to really indulge this semester. Once upon a time I pretty much lived in my school library, and I plan on returning to my roots. I'm not a huge fan of the high school's library, unfortunately, but really any comfortable patch of carpet will do.
Also, another happy note: I have good friends. I have a good friend who wants to take me shopping and do my makeup and find me a gorgeous prom dress. And all I can say is "THANK GOD" because I trust her taste about a thousand times more than I trust my own.
And I like going shopping with her, because she doesn't put up with my shopping-induced whining. When we went to buy graduation dresses in 8th grade, I was pretty much done trying stuff on after....half an hour, max, and so I turned into a bratty, glaring little kid.
Me: Okay, this is ridiculous. I'm not trying anything else on! I'm done.
Her: Shut up and wear the dress.
Me:...Fine.
And that was that. I totally don't have the guts to stand up to her about shopping, which is a good thing, because I loved the dress we finally found. And she is volunteering herself right now to take me shopping for prom, which means inevitably she won't let me put things off until the last minute. And equally inevitable is that I will love the dress she finds, and that it's going to make me look better than anything else I've worn all year (not saying much, as my wardrobe this year consists of my sweatshirt and jeans and snow boots).
Speaking of wardrobes, though, I am kind of amused by how little I've changed. I mean, in theory I've tried to find clothes that look better, but in practice? Everything is still saggy or bulgy or just plain unfortunate. And still comfortable, and also just about the only thing I feel confident leaving the house in. Maybe it's that sort of logic where if I don't try to pull off something that might look good, I don't run the risk of looking like a kid playing dress-up. If I dress like...well, not like a slob, per se, but like I don't have the energy to put on anything more complex than a shirt and jeans, at least I'm maintaining the status quo.
I have a really hard time feeling confident in some of the nicer articles of clothing I've bought over the years. I buy them, and I've literally never worn them. Nor do I think that will change. For example, I got a really nice pair of boots for my birthday. Have I worn them yet? No. Will I wear them? No.
It makes me kind of sad, but I figure that any self-confidence I may possess ends here.
And no, getting compliments will not change that. Really. I mean, either you have it or you don't, and the compliments of the well-intentioned do nothing except make me more depressed because it DOESN'T MATTER. I will never wear those boots unless a) someone sits me down and literally makes me wear them out of the house or b) I magically develop the guts to do so.
Emphasis on magically.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
On emotions, mostly
The fact that we are ONE WEEK AWAY from senior spring makes me want to throw my hands up and say, "Oh, lordy."
Because as much as I'm looking forward to the destination, I'm really not looking forward to the journey. And so I am faced with an emotional conundrum: to be excited for the new semester of no stress, or to be terrified and furious over the sheer amount of work I'm going to have to do in a three-day period.
And so I pick my usual option. Procrastinate!
I shall write not about how emotionally I am torn asunder, but instead about how I really, really like Howl's Moving Castle. In this particular instance, I am referring to the book, not the movie (though I love the movie too), because really at this point in my life I would like nothing more than to follow the protagonist's example and express my feelings with highly acidic weed-killer in a watering can.
I also am fond of the view I get from my house. I can see an airport, and I'm pretty much at the highest point for miles facing south, so I can actually see clear across the lake to the top of the hills on the mainland. It's nice, actually, when I'm staying up late and I'm the only one awake in the house, because I can look out the window from the study and see all the lights and it's very comforting. The one time when the fog was thick enough that I couldn't see anything, it was really weird.
I'm thinking right now about movie references, and people who make movie references, and people who don't get movie references, and if you haven't picked up on the fact that I'm a little loopy right now, you are either oblivious or....not reading. I tend to be the don't-get-references sort unless I'm with my sister, who has seen pretty much all the same movies I have and therefore only makes references that I will get.
I will also, always and forever, understand when someone talks about eating liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Even though I've never seen that movie, and plan on keeping things that way. I'm not a big horror movie fan, or even really a suspense/thriller movie fan. I like action, yes, but of the straightforward sort. The sneaking around and the magically appearing from behind furniture and the shrieking and the screaming just doesn't do it for me.
I kind of wonder sometimes, "If I had psychic powers, what would I have?" And I've reached the conclusion that I would probably be an empath, which is easily the lamest sort of psychic ever because you don't get to do anything, you just get to suffer through an emotional hurricane. I mean, there are only so many basic sorts of psychic powers, right? Telepathy, telekinesis, precognition, empathy (which I consider psychic only in the form where it's reverse-telepathy).
And I've reached this decision two ways. One of these is process of elimination: telepathy and telekinesis require someone to be good at forcing other things to suit them, which I most definitely suck at. Precognition requires someone to be good at reading patterns and making predictions which again, I am terrible at.
On the other hand, I'm very, very good at getting upset just because someone else is upset. On my own I'm very emotionally neutral, but if I'm around happy people or angry people or sad people, I become happy or angry or sad. If I read something about happy people, I become happy. If I listen to a story about sad people, I become sad. Et cetera. It doesn't need to be face-to-face with someone I actually know (which I should think influences most people's emotions to some degree).
Anyways, something to consider. What sort of psychic are YOU?
....Suddenly I feel ashamed and like one of those banner ads that ask you "What Twilight character are YOU?"
Sorry.
Because as much as I'm looking forward to the destination, I'm really not looking forward to the journey. And so I am faced with an emotional conundrum: to be excited for the new semester of no stress, or to be terrified and furious over the sheer amount of work I'm going to have to do in a three-day period.
And so I pick my usual option. Procrastinate!
I shall write not about how emotionally I am torn asunder, but instead about how I really, really like Howl's Moving Castle. In this particular instance, I am referring to the book, not the movie (though I love the movie too), because really at this point in my life I would like nothing more than to follow the protagonist's example and express my feelings with highly acidic weed-killer in a watering can.
I also am fond of the view I get from my house. I can see an airport, and I'm pretty much at the highest point for miles facing south, so I can actually see clear across the lake to the top of the hills on the mainland. It's nice, actually, when I'm staying up late and I'm the only one awake in the house, because I can look out the window from the study and see all the lights and it's very comforting. The one time when the fog was thick enough that I couldn't see anything, it was really weird.
I'm thinking right now about movie references, and people who make movie references, and people who don't get movie references, and if you haven't picked up on the fact that I'm a little loopy right now, you are either oblivious or....not reading. I tend to be the don't-get-references sort unless I'm with my sister, who has seen pretty much all the same movies I have and therefore only makes references that I will get.
I will also, always and forever, understand when someone talks about eating liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Even though I've never seen that movie, and plan on keeping things that way. I'm not a big horror movie fan, or even really a suspense/thriller movie fan. I like action, yes, but of the straightforward sort. The sneaking around and the magically appearing from behind furniture and the shrieking and the screaming just doesn't do it for me.
I kind of wonder sometimes, "If I had psychic powers, what would I have?" And I've reached the conclusion that I would probably be an empath, which is easily the lamest sort of psychic ever because you don't get to do anything, you just get to suffer through an emotional hurricane. I mean, there are only so many basic sorts of psychic powers, right? Telepathy, telekinesis, precognition, empathy (which I consider psychic only in the form where it's reverse-telepathy).
And I've reached this decision two ways. One of these is process of elimination: telepathy and telekinesis require someone to be good at forcing other things to suit them, which I most definitely suck at. Precognition requires someone to be good at reading patterns and making predictions which again, I am terrible at.
On the other hand, I'm very, very good at getting upset just because someone else is upset. On my own I'm very emotionally neutral, but if I'm around happy people or angry people or sad people, I become happy or angry or sad. If I read something about happy people, I become happy. If I listen to a story about sad people, I become sad. Et cetera. It doesn't need to be face-to-face with someone I actually know (which I should think influences most people's emotions to some degree).
Anyways, something to consider. What sort of psychic are YOU?
....Suddenly I feel ashamed and like one of those banner ads that ask you "What Twilight character are YOU?"
Sorry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)