Hiatus

I could write a long, involved dissertation here on how I've been so terribly busy in the past months, how so many other things have demanded my attention, yabba, yabba, yabba. While most of that would probably be true, it would also be a complete cop out, so I'll just admit that I'm just a sucky blogger. I'm as far as the blogging world is concerned, that 'friend' who calls you when they're sad/drunk/in need your chemistry homework. Sorry 'bout that (to the two whole people that makes up my readership-- thank you, supportive parents).

So I promise I'll be better.

Who am I kidding? I'll probably post this same example entry in another few months (I hear Barney Stinson off in the distance yelling, "Challenge accepted).

Actually, I've posted this same exact post in all my other failed blogs. I won't mention them here because it's pretty freaking embarrassing. You can go found them yourselves (by which I mean, hi mom, hi dad).

Paradigm Shift

(Susie gets into car)

C: Sorry the backseat's so messy. I had to take my parents to work, and they sometimes make a mess. And I had to bring my dog, too.

Me: . . .

L: Why'd you have to take them to work?

C: Because they can't be left alone.

S: Why can't they be left alone?

LC: Oh, when you leave them alone, they start screaming.

Me: . . .

C: Yeah, they can't be left alone. They seriously just start screaming.

Me: . . .

C: But yeah, sorry the car's really messy. Sometimes he just chews stuff up and spits it back out. Look at that crap on the floor.

Me: . . .

C: (something about birds)

Me: hahahahahahahaha.

C: . . .

S: . . .

L: . . .

Me: hahahahahahahaha.

Re-read the conversation after replacing "parent" with "parrot."

COCKROACH

AUGH.

Now, I'm not normally an advocate of capital-letter-speak. However, desperate times call for equally hysterical forms of expression. I have spent the past hour of my life trapping a GIANT COCKROACH and recuperating from the experience.

So, I get home from watching Despicable Me at the theater (a surprisingly pleasant movie, by the way) to find a GIANT COCKROACH in the doorway to my bathroom. I initially mistook it for a blob of hair in the dim lighting only to find out I was reaching out for a DEMON ON SIX LEGS.

I immediately telephoned a friend of mine and began screaming into the phone about the GIANT COCKROACH now in my apartment. After listening to my panicked blabber for a good minute, she calmly told me to squash it with a shoe. At this point, I calmed down a bit and told her yes, I would kill it with a shoe, and yes it will all be fine.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I began to approach the GIANT COCKROACH holding a pair of orange Converse when the little bugger TWITCHED. This of course triggered yet another panic attack which led to me calling my parents. They patiently listened to me cry/shout/bellow (yes, there were tears) incoherently into phone for 30 minutes while I attempted to cover the cockroach with a small Styrofoam bowl.

I finally managed to trap the SOB under not one, but two foam bowls and topped it off with a box of sidewalk chalk to make sure it really couldn't escape. Which lead to me pacing around the apartment trying to calm myself down and sitting down to write this entry.

My heartbeat is still slightly elevated, and as seen in my out of character use of capitalized words, I'm still a tad unnerved. I keep thinking the various spots on the floor in the peripheral vision are more GIANT COCKROACHES. I opened my closet expecting a whole army of them to come swarming out. I have made cockroach spray the number one priority on my shopping list.

Dear god, nothing like a COCKROACH ATTACK to remind me that I'm still 6 years old.

Quasi

My friend Casey and I love the prefix "pseudo." We love it so much, we use it even if it is inappropriate and doesn't make sense. We also love the "non" descriptor. Our conversations are filled with "non-places" doing "non-things" as we pseudo-bitterly reminisce those "pseudo-fun" activities during high school.

At one point, we saw the word "quasi" while browsing the shelves at the library. After discovering this awesome, new modifier, we made a pact of sorts to use it more often. Of course, our tongues were still loyal to "pseudo," and our use of the word "quasi" were consequently few and far between. At best, we would say "pseu--" remember our pact, say "quasi" with extra emphasis and then have a good laugh about it.

Anywho, I was reminded of all of this when few days ago I was standing in line at a burger joint listening to some locals play bluegrass. Which then reminded me of folk music. Which then reminded me of a conversation that I had exchanged with a guy named Cody at the farmer's market about a mutual friend of ours who was in a "sort of folk acappella group." Then I couldn't remember if he had perhaps used the "quasi" or "pseudo" modifier instead of "sort of."

This is one of the few trains of thought I have successfully elucidated, so I thought it was blog-worthy.

Personality Inventory

Ever since I've been done with The-Test-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, I haven't visited the CollegeBoard website, but in midst of my "what major to do in college crisis" (more about that later, perhaps), I landed upon an old personality inventory that I took in junior year (for those interested, it's part of the MyRoad module CollegeBoard has for all members). Partially out of curiosity and mostly out of boredom, I retook the inventory (alright, I admit it. It was mostly out of curiosity).

For the most part, I'm still relatively similar to the person I was in junior year. I still like working by myself, I find crowds slightly uncomfortable, I like to plan ahead, I moderately like change, and the future is something that concerns me.

For most of the questions, you choose how left or right you lean on a spectrum between two statements. For example:

I like a lot of change in my world; too little change is boring

(Strongly)

(Mostly)

(Somewhat)

(Unsure)

(Somewhat)

(Mostly)

(Strongly)

I like stability in my world; too much change bothers me

More often than not, when I did refine an old answer, I opted for the "unsure" option. I questioned a bit how my 16 year old self clicked so confidently checked "strongly" for so many of the prompts. I suspect that I was skewing my answers to convince myself I was more defined than I actually was. I always treated those personality inventories as some sort of competition, as if there was a winner in getting a certain 4 letter personality ID. Now in my crisis of not knowing what I want to do in college, I retook that inventory as honestly as I could, and found it more difficult than I expected.

I ended up scoring as an ENTZ (I got an INTZ in junior year), but my individual section scores were pretty deflated, a couple of them bordering between "slight" and "clear." I feel like I should be able to coherently and elegantly summarize a lesson learned from all of this, but I can't. All I really feel is that slight discomfort knowing that I maybe don't know what I want to do in life as well as I convinced myself during my high-and-mighty, life-will-do-my-bidding phase.

Oh man, college, here I come.

Lazy

My calculus teacher once told me:

It's good to be lazy.

He meant that I should try to solve math problems in "lazy" or "clever" methods. Of course, I took this as an invitation to totally misconstrue his words and justify my laziness for everything else.This being summer and all, I've taken my teacher's advice quite literally. For example, yesterday was spent watching 18 episodes of How I Met Your Mother, which by the way is a fantastic show.

As much as I love following the wisdom of my calculus teacher, I can't help but feel a little dissatisfied . . .

I Love Sky Mall

My Christmas list, newly revised.

The Instant Sun Shelter

Price: $89.95

Description: This is the shelter that sets up in seconds to provide cover form the sun, wind, and rain . . . included eight metal anchors . . . ensuring stability on blustery days . . . included shoulder-slung bag, leaving your hands free to carry additional gear.

In short: It's a giant, f***ing umbrella. That family does look awfully happy being sheltered from the sun, though.

Meerkat Gang Sculpture

Price: $85.00

Description: Sculpted at over two feet tall from their characteristic sentry stance to their long, thin tails, this charming trio of meerkats is sure to turn heads in your home or garden!

And turn heads it will . . .

The Infinitely Adjustable Reading Valet

Price: $179.95

Description: Unlike typical hands-free bookstands that offer only one position, this superior model telescopes, tilts, yaws, and swivels 360* to allow countless hands-free reading positions.

Can you get any more lazy?

The Only Underwater Pogo Stick

Price: $59.95

Description: This is the only pogo stick designed for use i swimming pools that allows you to perform a variety of waterborne stunts as you bounce off walls or bottoms.

There's definitely a reason this is the only underwater pogo stick around.

The Canine Genealogy Kit

Price: $59.95

Description: This kit analyzes your dog's DNA and identifies breeds in its ancestry. It provides scientific confirmation of the physical characteristics, behavioral tendencies, personality traits, and potential health risks your dog . . . has inherited. A professional laboratory tests a cotton swab that you simply rub against the inside of your dog's cheek . . . You will receive a certificate listing your dog's ancestry . . . Takes up to three weeks to receive results.

It comes with an official certificate?! Well, I'm sold.

The No!No! FaceTrainer

Price: $149.00

Description: Works out facial muscle for a natural looking lift. In a 60-day clinical trial, participants achieved 71% reduction in sagging skin. How it works: The FaceTrainer fits snugly over your face as you perform simple facial movements . . . just ten minutes a day and your FaceTrainer is all you need to look younger and healthier.

Wait, did anyone else catch that? 60 freaking days!

And now my personal favorite. . . .

The Telekinetic Obstacle Course

Price: $99.95

Description: This is a game that uses your focused brain waves to maneuver a ball through an obstacle course. A headband and two earlobe clips measure theta wave activity produced by your brain (similar to EEG monitoring technology used by medical professionals). As you relax and concetrate, the headband sends a wireless signal to the game's air fan . . . suspending or lowering a foam ball; a knob . . . enables you . . . to move the ball through one of eight obstacles including hoops, teeter-totters, baskets, or chutes.

Anyone who doesn't want this is a fool.

*All images and descriptions are from SkyMall.com and SkyMall magazine.

The Golden State

I recently (by which I mean last night) returned from a trip to Los Angeles. Already bunkered in Arkansas for spring break, myself and the 'rents hopped a direct flight to California and landed in LAX around 2 AM, local time. Biologically speaking, I was still stuck in EST and effectively passed out on the bed after a short but extremely hot shower upon arrival at the hotel.

It being our first time in California, of course my Lees partook in every cliche, tourist-y activities including hitting Universal Studios and various parts of Hollywood including the Walk of Fame and Sunset Boulevard. There's something about cliché, tourist-y activities that makes me hate humanity yet feel so connected to it at the same time (postmodernist literature, anyone?). For example, while oohing and aahing at the Wisteria Lane set for Desperate Housewives, I couldn't help but ask:

"Why do I care? Why did I travel literally across the country to ooh and ahh at a fake suburban street?"

When I could not think of an immediate answer, I momentarily felt a little disheartened and depressed. Fortunately, this feeling did not last long as I decided to shake off my angsty teenage self and just enjoy the fact that despite me complaining about the world being so horribly superficial, I will at some level find movie sets cool and faun over Edward Norton.

It's true Hollywood can be see as extremely superficial, trite, and contrived. It's also true that despite this negative view, millions of people around the world watch Paramount productions and read celebrity gossip and know the name Tom Hanks.

Millions of people.

Hundreds of million people.

Around the world.

I think that by itself gives the whole entertainment industry some meaning. Almost every human being in the world participates in it from the moment they turn on their TV sets or drive past a billboard.

So, Hollywood. Contrived? Perhaps. Superficial? Probably.

Meaningless? I don't know.

Alright. Enough ranting.

Despite my open condemnation for all things cliché, these things are cliché for a reason-- everybody loves it.

High points of my vacation: palm trees, beach, sun = cliché, cliché, cliché = awesome, awesome, awesome.

Sky Watching

There's nothing quite like looking down from an airplane, looking at the tiny little lights of Los Angeles while Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here pounds through your ears.

Write it down people-- add it to your list: listen to Pink Floyd 30,000 ft in the air.

Snapshot

Here I am, sitting at the dining room table of a one bedroom apartment. My mother is sleeping on the couch about 7 ft. to the left of me, while my dog slumbers away underneath my chair.

The only sound: the refrigerator hum.
The only light source: a single ceiling lamp hanging above my head.
Temperature: 75 degrees
Books in my backpack: Franny and Zooey, The Blind Watchmaker
Signs of life: mom, dog
Deceptive signs of life: two potted plants, which upon closer inspection reveal themselves to be fake.

Random thoughts that have gone through my head in the past ten minutes: Proprioception, self-defense mechanisms, to-do lists, Led Zeppelin, Law and Order, blogging, globalization.

Evolutionary Biology

After partaking in a 3 hour nap this evening, I went downstairs work on some biology homework (some worksheets on stem cell research, but that is irrelevant). Of course, expecting to accomplish any work was blind hope, and I found myself participating in a semi-intense debate on macroevolution.

Now, I normally hate arguing. Normally, it's because I have no idea what I'm talking about, and I know how much it bothers me when people form opinions based on nonsense. As a general rule, I avoid controversial topics altogether and content myself with reading mildly provocative blog entries on the internet.

But with 5+ books on evolutionary biology under my belt, I couldn't help but give my 2 cents.

I won't go into the details of the debate here, mainly because I don't want this becoming some sort of free-for-all debate fist fight (granted, I probably don't even have enough readers for a proper debate, but that is beside the point).

All I'll say is that I'm not a creationist. My run with my biology course at school as well as my Dawkins and Wilson kick has convinced me macroevolution is the way to go.

As I said, I normally like to steer clear of all things controversial. But this is one of the few topics that I consider important, and one of the very few topics of which I can actually make a cogent argument. So if anyone wants to discuss, feel free to do so.

The World

Changes every day.

Irrevocably.

Permanently.

For better or for worse.

Weekends

I live from weekend to weekend. The work days in between all merge into a mess of classes, busy work, and the daily grind. I can't say what I did last week, but I can say with certainty what I did last weekend (in this case, really nothing at all. I spent hours watching Weeds and loafing around in my apartment).

I look forward to sleeping in, despite my incapability of sleeping later than 9 am. I look forward to the luxury of sitting in my room, not getting anything done, and catching up on my lost episodes of whatever TV show I happen to feel like watching that week.

Some weekends ago, I lazily wandered the streets of Hartsville, SC with neither aim nor destination. I discovered a genealogical research library as well as some side boutiques.

I ended up reading On Human Nature by E.O. Wilson in Centennial Park (if that small patch of plants can be considered a park).

All in all, a good day.

And here I am, looking forward to tomorrow, living from weekend to weekend.

E.O. Wilson

is the man.

What do you wait for?

Ever get that anticipatory tight feeling in your chest?

Of course you do.


My life is a constant waitlist.
Waiting for tomorrow.
Waiting for next week.
Waiting for a new year.

What do you wait for?

I've tried to obliterate that list time after time. The problem arises from the deep rooted fact that I've learned to define and construct my entire image and life after waitlists-- an arbitrary column of boxes to check.

Checkcheckcheck.


Psychologist Daniel Kahneman says that we have two selves: memory and experiential.

We literally live in the experiential. Statistically, our experiential self lasts for three seconds at a time.
So the experiential self that literally feels your existence at this moment. . .

Is gone now.

And another one . . .

And another . . .
And another . . .

Has taken its place.


And yet another.

Our brains are only capable of living in the experiential mode, but paradoxically, we choose to spend much of that mode leafing through our memories.

The memory self that gives us coherence and continuity.


Think back the last ten years of your life.
Not every memory or event.
Just feel the last ten years of your life.

How long did that take you?

The continuity of those last ten years lumped and condensed into a one second memory.

A concentrated, raw, one-second memory.
The memory that lets you feel your self existence in the last ten years.

And here I am living, three seconds at a time.

Waitingfortomorrow.Waitingfornextweek.Waitingforanewyear.

Modes

Modes in which I've often found myself recently:

Oliver Sacks mode.
E.O Wilson mode.
Angry vigilante mode.
Don't give a damn mode.
Chill mode.
Camus mode.

Carpe

Vitam.

Birds

Running around on sand at 11 PM chasing birds with a friend = awesome.

I can count on one hand the times I've been to the beach.

Last weekend was one such visit.

There's just something about being on the edge of a land mass that makes you feel insignificant and empowered at the same time.

Words

"We search for words because sometimes that is all we can do."
-- Josh Carter

I like words. I particularly like the word "nociception." It's basically a fancy word for pain. Stemming from the Latin root "noceo," it literally translates as the "perception of harm."

Bam. Etymology like that blows my mind.

Another example: disease. Literally the state of being not at ease.

I also like how words feel in my mouth. A favorite of mine is "intrigue." A friend once told me that he likes how the word "thimble" sounds. I spent the next minute or two playing with the word, saying it slowly, drawing out the sounds. After a while, I was mildly addicted to saying it.

Just as sometimes songs get annoyingly stuck in my head, I also get words stuck in my head. For example, just a few nights ago my brain kept repeating the word "apocrine" over and over again while I was at tennis practice.


Apocrine. Apocrine. Apocrine. Thimble.

House M.D.

I'm not a huge TV show connoisseur, but I won't deny my near pathological obsession with Dr. House.

As usual, after attending my last class this past Tuesday, I went upstairs to my room, opened my laptop, and proceeded to catch up on my missed episodes of House. Perpetually one week behind, I finally got around to watching the episode titled "5 to 9."

Now, from the very beginning, I knew something was up with this particular episode. Firstly, nobody mysteriously passed out in the first three minutes. Secondly, the entire introduction was concentrated on Cuddy and her new boy toy. At this point, I was extremely irked. For goodness sakes! The show is called House, not Cuddy.

Then, for the first time, House M.D. mentioned. . . Insurance companies.

Yes, insurance companies.

In fact, the entire episode was one large finger jab at those darned insurance companies.

In my personal experience, House M.D. never mentions money except for the following instances: 1. Cuddy becoming angry at House for wasting money on unnecessary testing 2. Cuddy becoming angry at House for breaking expensive equipment and 3. House making various bets with fellow co-workers.

Throughout the entire episode, Cuddy desperately tries to renew a contract with a heartless health insurance company, trying to get Princeton Plainboro the money it deserves. When she refuses to write a script for breast milk as cancer treatment for a clinic patient, he calls her bitch and pleads that his insurance company will only cover official prescriptions. She fights with a patient suing the hospital for his finger reattachment surgery because he cannot absorb the medical costs. She approaches an evil, douchebag health insurance company CEO during his luxury lunch to demand that he be less selfish and consider the patients instead of his shareholders for once. Dr. Chase who performed the finger reattachment surgery just expresses his wish to treat people, regardless of money.

As I said, one giant finger jab.

I'm not even going to try to pretend that I'm an expert on this whole healthcare crisis. The majority of my personal information stems from late night talking points and cursory scannings of the Washington Post and CNN. But, I know that when issues start pervading pop culture, the general public is more likely engage themselves. I admit I was mildly annoyed that my expected one hour break of mind-numbing programming turned into a in-your-face healthcare discussion. But, maybe that in itself is the problem. Maybe instead of wasting my time watching House be an attractive douchebag, I should take notice of the news and issues going around the world.

Sometimes

You just need to get up and dance.

Yes, you. Get off your lazy ass and dance.

Yes, right now.

Pineapples

Every time I see a pineapple, I do a double take. I won't explain why because the reason is both incoherent as well as slightly embarrassing.


Sorry to leave you hanging.

One Moment

It's Valentines Day and whether you're head-over-heels, annoying-everyone-around-you lovesick puppy or the classic cynic who looks in disdain at the absurd amounts of flower and chocolate sales, take a moment to let someone know happy V-day. It'll only take one second.

Dr. Pepper

Dr. Pepper is a mystery in my life. I have never tasted it, nor do I plan to. This irks many of colleagues who claim that my life is "deprived" and "incomplete" because I have not beheld 23-flavor fiesta that is Dr. Pepper. A friend of mine once told me that Dr. Pepper fills her "with a tingle of happiness." I personally have nothing against Dr. Pepper. I do drink other carbonated drinks on occasion, although I am a tad anal about melting away my enamel. I also call carbonated drinks "pop" which also irks many of my colleagues down here in the South, but I digress.

When my friends shout, "What? No! You've never. . Wait, NEVER, oh my god, NEVER had Dr. Pepper? Dude, you have to try some!" I explain that I like to keep a "little mystery in my life." It's a difficult concept to explain because I don't think it's the real reason I don't drink Dr. Pepper. The real reason is that I have spent almost two decades without it and finally giving in after so many years kind of feels like losing a game, and I hate to lose games.

Charlie

Chaplin once said:

"Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in the long shot."

I thought this was rather clever. In a similar spirit, I think the following is also true:

"Life is a comedy when seen in close-up, but a tragedy in the long shot."

And so it goes.

Tip #1

I know you were just dying to know what tip #1 was, right? Well, the chances are you don't even know what I'm talking about so I'm going to refer you back to the previous post (read the last line).

Tip #1 in my self-help book is this: Buy a dog.

They're freaking awesome. Not to mention, absolutely adorable. If you have a choice, definitely get yourself a miniature goldendoodle.

Say what now? Yes. A miniature goldendoodle. It's a mix between a golden retriever and a miniature poodle.

Say what now? Yes. A golden retriever and a miniature poodle. They do it by artificial insemination. The result is this totally adorably fluffy dog that will love you forever and ever.

Life, Liberty . . .

And the pursuit of happiness. Those are the words in the ever famous, oft quoted Declaration of Independence.

Now, I'm not going to hide it. I used to be one of those kids who should shake their fists at the world because dear god, why were my parents not born with mind-blowing connections? Why wasn't I born with a 8792 IQ? Why don't I find big sacks of money everywhere? Why am I not as pretty as that girl over there? Isn't there something in the Declaration of Independence that guarantees me happiness or success or something? What a load of bologna! I came to the only plausible, reasonable conclusion: America sucked, my life sucked, and it was not my fault.

In a moment of lucidity sometime later, I actually thought to look up the Declaration of independence. To my surprise, I realized that my brain had so conveniently left out a word. The Declaration did not say, "Life, liberty, and happiness" but "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

Now, as a decently educated young woman, of course I knew that "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" was the correct version. But, I had to failed to realize exactly what those words entailed. Plainly stated, I was looking for luck. I wanted things to be easier/faster/better/just cooler in general.

I still do. It's a very human sort of sentiment.

But, I now have the words "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness" hanging on a small Post-It on my bed frame. The word "pursuit" is underlined several times , highlighted, and surrounded by a small group of lopsided stars. It's a silly sort of note, and my friends just think I'm being a history geek, but it keeps me decently happy and upbeat.

If I ever write a self help book, I'm pretty sure this will be tip #2.

6.0

It seems that earthquakes know just how to aggravate already open wounds. As death tolls mount ever higher, Haiti was hit by an aftershock rating 6.0 on the scale this morning, and aid is perhaps more crucial than ever.

Please see Saturday's post for links to the American Red Cross and UNICEF. I am also including a link to a Huffington Post article that also suggests several ways to support relief efforts in Haiti.

WAYS TO HELP

Saturday Post

I normally don't post on Saturdays, but sometimes things happen in the world that do not necessarily feel the desire to match my update schedule.

As most people are already aware, Haiti was recently hit by one of the most devastating earthquakes in history. Hospitals and shelters are just as likely as any other building to be destroyed in an earthquake, making relief efforts ever more difficult and frustrating.

I'm encouraging everybody to donate and help out with the relief efforts. The Red Cross and UNICEF are taking donations through their Haiti Earthquake Relief Funds. Here are the links:

American Red Cross
UNICEF

Some quick steps you can take to help out with the relief efforts:

1. Tell your friends. Sometimes disasters happen so often and so far away that we write many of them off as just another one. Take notice. Make your friends and family take notice.

2. Donate. I included the Red Cross and UNICEF links on this post because most people are familiar with these organizations. There are certainly several other organizations collecting and holding programs for relief. Money tends to be the most useful in times of crises, but make sure that you know where your money is going. Although disasters strike in many people's hearts a chord of sympathy, many people see earthquakes as just another opportunity to scam you. If you are donating, make sure you are doing so to a reputable organization.

3. Start a fundraiser at your school/company. More people contributing = more aid. Simple enough.

4. If you are religious, keep the victims and their families in your prayers, and if you are not, keep them in your thoughts. A moment of positive thinking will only take 30 seconds of your time, and it certainly can't hurt anyone.

Chickpea Paste

Commonly referred to as "hummus," I had some for the first time last week. If you're anything like my friends, the following two thoughts are now running through your head:

1. What? A hummus virgin? How absurd!
2. Mmm. Hummus.

I agree. Hummus is pretty darn delicious. I did harbor some serious doubts initially but I sucked it up finally tried some. I am now shamefully and at the same time shamelessly addicted. I've been experimenting with different vegetables and am proud to say that my intake of cucumbers have skyrocketed the past few days. I'm also planning to buy a tub for my personal fridge. My anticipation is overwhelming right now.

Oh goodness, hummus.

As with most things I eat, I of course questioned, "What the heck is hummus?" Turns out, ground up chickpeas, which led me to question, "What the heck are chickpeas?" Someone at the lunch table replied, "They're kind of like round pinto beans, but with appendages," with alien appendage hand motions included.

Horrified by eating appendag-ed food, I searched chickpeas on Wikipedia to discover that they just look like round beans. Thank goodness.

I Am Such a Good Person

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 6:00 AM. Not only did I wake up at 6:00 AM, I woke up at 6:00 AM to go swimming. Not only did I go swimming, I did so because a friend wanted me to do so. I am possibly the best person in the world right now. For the time being, let's ignore the small, masochistic part of me that found the idea of forcing myself to wake up during the god forbidden hours of dawn to douse myself in cold, cold water mildly appealing. While we're at it, let's also ignore the parts of me that saw a good blog entry in the making.

The last time I was in a pool was the summer after 8th grade for summer gym. The last bathing suit I owned was from Limited Too. I hate water--minus drinking and showering. I hate the beach. I hate the rain (unless I'm inside). Get the picture?

But, I swam anyways (Did I mention that I am the greatest person ever right now?), and to my pleasant surprise, the whole ordeal went relatively smoothly and enjoyably. It also helped that I got some prescription goggles for my near-blind eyes. Prescription goggles are awesome. They help me see, and I hate not being able to see.

After swimming a whopping 12 laps, I felt pretty empowered and very, very cool. I was also very excited about spending the rest of my day bragging to people about what a good person I was. However, my armpits and abs hurt like fiery doom. So much, in fact, that I could not push down the ketchup pump during breakfast for my eggs. In fact, they hurt right now as I write this entry, so I'm just going to stop typing now and go hunt for more things to do that will make me a fabulous person.

Greetings

I am very self-conscious about how I start and end all my conversations. Consequently, I am always on the lookout for cool, interesting ways to say hello and goodbye.

I originally started with the good ol', traditional "hello." I then went through a "yo" stage quickly followed by a "hey there" stage. Now I kind of like "hey you" except it makes me feel like I'm being too intimate with people I don't feel very intimate with. Then I discovered "heyo." It's kind of hip-sounding, casual, slightly uncommon. I don't remember who I filched this from, but hey (hi? hello? hey you?), thanks.

When logging off, a simple "bye" works nicely most of the time. If I get bored, I'll switch it up with an occasional "good bye." If I'm feeling cosmopolitan, I'll try "adieu" and if I feel like acting more chill than I actually am, I'll go with a "later" or a "peace." I particularly like "peace." I usually find people who sign off with a "peace" very cool. I don't know why. One day, I'll conduct a legit study on all of this and figure it out.

Senile Moments

I wish I had more of them. Let me explain. Traditionally, a "senile moment" is when someone forgets an obvious fact or a train of thought. For example: Where are my car keys? Oh dearie me, they're in my hands!

I am now redefining senile moments as the following: when a younger person has a brief moment of insight beyond their years.

I have very few of these senile moments. Even the few that I think I have, my delusional brain probably made them up. I'll be momentarily convinced that my superbly mature brain is much too sophisticated and wise to be stuck in a seventeen-year-old body in a seventeen-year-old world. Of course, this is hardly ever true, but thank goodness teenage angst is only temporary.

I'd like to think that this post is a senile moment. It's probably not, but I suppose it's a worthy effort anyway.

Abbreviations

Abbreviations I find totally unnecessary:

Come = cum
That = tht
When = wen
What = wat
Have = hav
I = i
Today = 2day

Don't use them people. One extra keystroke isn't going to kill you. Unless you have carpal tunnel. If you do, then I forgive you.

Home Stretch

For the great majority of seniors everywhere, we are in the home stretch. The final lap in the 4693 K marathon. College acceptances are slowly trickling in along with a scholarship here and there. The standardized tests are finished and the scores, good or bad, are unchangeable. The "Submit" button has already been pressed and as the Tralfamadorians would say, "It has already happened."

The home stretch is awesome. It's time to finally take my seat on the seniorits train that I've had reserved for the past 3 years. It's a time to celebrate Friday nights with coffee and tea, remember what "reading for pleasure" means, sleep, and saunter around school as the big, bad senior.

It's also a time to screw up. Don't do it. Have fun, relax, cash in on that long-deserved luxury of not caring. Just don't overdo it.

Make It

I recently signed off one of my e-mails with "Have a good day." Right before I clicked the "Send" button, I replaced the phrase with "Make a good day."

I think days are made, not had.
The same principle applies to years.

So everyone, make a good year.