A rare capture of me wearing sweatpants and sneakers.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
I (sort of) like video games.
So, last night, my co-workers and I somehow got upon the subject of video games. How three girls in their early twenties (all non-gamers, not that being a girl gamer is a bad thing--in fact, I'm jealous) came upon the subject of video games while stocking items coated in more glitter than a stripper's ass is beyond me, but as is the case with many of the interesting conversations we have at work, it arose (more than likely) out of sheer boredom.
My manager said that she and her boyfriend had just gotten the new Mortal Kombat game for their PS3. She expressed her utter delight at finally beating her boyfriend at a video game that he took very seriously.
"I don't know how I'm so good at it," she said. "All I do is press buttons."
And there it was. The inevitable fall-back technique, one I have employed for years at friends' houses when the guys wanted to play Super Smash Brothers: Button-Mashing. We agreed that none of us have room in our brains for simple commands like X X O SQUARE L1 L2 X O O O SQUARE SQUARE every time you want to do a combo move and kill the shit out of someone.
I do enjoy video games. I really do. I grew up with brothers and we had a Super Nintendo system when we were kids, before Playstation even existed. My boyfriend and I recently bought an old-school copy of Gauntlet: Dark Legacy for the PS2. We are pretty good at it, actually, aside from a minor snafu in which ONE OF US wasn't very clear with his, um, INSTRUCTIONS--but, overall, we play nicely together. We make a good team.
Aside from that, here's my secret: Most of the time, I have absolutely no fucking clue what I am doing. I just press a bunch of buttons and hope that something super awesome like a Level Up! or a You Just Won a Billion Mana! pops up. I charge ahead, fearlessly, brazenly running, jumping, punching, kicking, and slashing my way to a high score. To the untrained eye, it appears that I know exactly what I am doing and that each move I make is carefully calculated and deliberate, that I am pressing buttons with a purpose.
And that is the beauty of being a Master Button-Masher. You're so good at not knowing what you're doing that you're actually better than everyone else.
My manager said that she and her boyfriend had just gotten the new Mortal Kombat game for their PS3. She expressed her utter delight at finally beating her boyfriend at a video game that he took very seriously.
"I don't know how I'm so good at it," she said. "All I do is press buttons."
And there it was. The inevitable fall-back technique, one I have employed for years at friends' houses when the guys wanted to play Super Smash Brothers: Button-Mashing. We agreed that none of us have room in our brains for simple commands like X X O SQUARE L1 L2 X O O O SQUARE SQUARE every time you want to do a combo move and kill the shit out of someone.
I do enjoy video games. I really do. I grew up with brothers and we had a Super Nintendo system when we were kids, before Playstation even existed. My boyfriend and I recently bought an old-school copy of Gauntlet: Dark Legacy for the PS2. We are pretty good at it, actually, aside from a minor snafu in which ONE OF US wasn't very clear with his, um, INSTRUCTIONS--but, overall, we play nicely together. We make a good team.
Aside from that, here's my secret: Most of the time, I have absolutely no fucking clue what I am doing. I just press a bunch of buttons and hope that something super awesome like a Level Up! or a You Just Won a Billion Mana! pops up. I charge ahead, fearlessly, brazenly running, jumping, punching, kicking, and slashing my way to a high score. To the untrained eye, it appears that I know exactly what I am doing and that each move I make is carefully calculated and deliberate, that I am pressing buttons with a purpose.
And that is the beauty of being a Master Button-Masher. You're so good at not knowing what you're doing that you're actually better than everyone else.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Hyperbole and a Half
This is hands-down the best blog I've found in a long time. I want to be best friends with the girl who writes it and draws the pictures. It's a love affair.
This is hands-down the best blog I've found in a long time. I want to be best friends with the girl who writes it and draws the pictures. It's a love affair.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Love and drugs.
Last night, my boyfriend and I watched the movie Love and Other Drugs. It was pretty okay, mostly, except for the corny background music and some of the soap opera dialogue toward the end.
If you haven't seen the movie, basically, it's about a pharmaceutical rep who falls in love with a girl who has Parkinson's. Of course, this is only destined for disaster and everyone knows it. There were a few parts in the movie that I could have done without, but overall it was a pretty good flick, I guess.
The worst part about the movie, though, was how much I could relate to Anne Hathaway's character--26 years old and in the early stages of Parkinson's. I don't have Parkinson's, but I do have a neurological autoimmune disease that will only get worse over time and for which there is no cure at this time. I'm still young and I'm still relatively healthy, and I don't let it stop me from doing most things or from being happy or living my life, but the reality of the situation is this:
Despite a healthy diet, and despite exercise (both things that I do need to be better about), there will be a day, most likely not for a long, long time, when I won't be able to walk without a cane, or maybe I won't be able to walk at all. There will be a day when I won't be able to lift my arms, or use the phone, or type on the computer. My muscles will atrophy because of weakness. I won't be able to work or do much else other than sit or lie down.
Watching her character, Maggie, struggle to open a bottle and pour a glass was painful for me. I don't have tremors, but I can imagine not being able to do that either. Yesterday morning, I woke up with a searing, burning pain shooting down both of my legs at unbelievable rates of pressure. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I just laid there for a second. My own body was not even letting my reach over to the side of my bed for my medication. My own goddamn body was failing me. And I was stuck. I just laid there with tears streaming down my face.
Eventually, I told myself to quit being a baby and I forced my legs over the side of the bed. They were so cramped up that I couldn't even bend them. I scooted on my ass over to my desk and fumbled for my pill bottle. Like Maggie, I live on an arsenal of medications and electrodes and wires. Without them, I wouldn't even be able to move or get out of bed. I tried not taking them for a while but then I had a horrible relapse. And the worst part was admitting defeat, admitting that I won't be able to live my life without taking pills every day. For the rest of my fucking life.
Sometimes, I really wonder what it is about me that makes people like me. I'm trying my hardest to participate and engage in my life now while I'm still healthy. I'm always worried that one day, when I am really sick, no one will want anything to do with me. I won't be fun anymore. I won't be able to do things. I won't be able to drive. I feel so much like the kind of person who wants to be out there, doing things, living in the moment. I always feel like I'm on the inside, looking out the window, wishing I could be like everyone else. But this outer shell just isn't doing it for me. Every second of every day, my entire body aches like it does when most people have the flu. The medication only slightly abates it to the point where it's tolerable. Like anyone else, I have good days, and I have bad days. The bad days have been few and far between lately, but with all of the stress in my life right now, I can feel a relapse coming. When it happens, I'm bed-ridden but I can't call off sick from work. Nobody understands that I'm ill 100% of the time and there is no way to fix it. I've been called a faker so many times that all I can do is just laugh at it. I can barely remember what it was like before I was sick. As a child, I played sports and I was healthy. My body didn't start failing me until high school.
When you're fifteen years old and you feel like you're 85 some days, it's a scary thing. Nobody knew what was wrong with me. I was tested for millions of things, for allergies, for multiple sclerosis, for diabetes, for lupus, for rheumatoid arthritis. And all of them came back negative. And then I come to find out that my brain just doesn't work right. This thing that teaches me things, processes things, looks at the world and tells me it's looking back, this is the thing that is hurting me the most.
Some days, it makes me just want to scream and scream until I have no voice left.
So I sat there, watching Maggie and feeling sorry for myself, and on the TV, she says, "I wouldn't want to be with a sick person either." And I'm looking at my boyfriend and thinking, "I wouldn't want to be with me either." I wouldn't want to be with someone who is so tired every day that she can't keep up the house and gets home from work and can't even move, someone who barely has energy to feed her dog and take her for walks and sometimes can't even move out of bed all day. And yet he's still here, and that gives me hope.
As a woman of many words but few feelings, it's hard for me most of the time to tell people exactly how much they mean to me. I hope he understands and knows how much it means to me, even just the smallest thing, just lying there and letting me put my head on his chest, and breathing with me and being quiet together and holding my hand in his. Just knowing that someone is there for me, someone who understands how I feel every day and makes the best of it. I admire his dedication to his health and the aplomb with which he deals with his Type I diabetes. It's inspiring me to be healthier and to tackle my disease and kick its ass. Being around him is refreshing and relaxing and it's nice to feel like I have a built-in best friend, someone whom I can count on and talk to about things. He came out of left field and he came into my life during a difficult time and turned it into something wonderful.
It's nice to be cared about and cared for, for once. For once, I'm not always the one wondering, worrying, watching. We take care of each other. Isn't that how it's supposed to be?
If you haven't seen the movie, basically, it's about a pharmaceutical rep who falls in love with a girl who has Parkinson's. Of course, this is only destined for disaster and everyone knows it. There were a few parts in the movie that I could have done without, but overall it was a pretty good flick, I guess.
The worst part about the movie, though, was how much I could relate to Anne Hathaway's character--26 years old and in the early stages of Parkinson's. I don't have Parkinson's, but I do have a neurological autoimmune disease that will only get worse over time and for which there is no cure at this time. I'm still young and I'm still relatively healthy, and I don't let it stop me from doing most things or from being happy or living my life, but the reality of the situation is this:
Despite a healthy diet, and despite exercise (both things that I do need to be better about), there will be a day, most likely not for a long, long time, when I won't be able to walk without a cane, or maybe I won't be able to walk at all. There will be a day when I won't be able to lift my arms, or use the phone, or type on the computer. My muscles will atrophy because of weakness. I won't be able to work or do much else other than sit or lie down.
Watching her character, Maggie, struggle to open a bottle and pour a glass was painful for me. I don't have tremors, but I can imagine not being able to do that either. Yesterday morning, I woke up with a searing, burning pain shooting down both of my legs at unbelievable rates of pressure. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I just laid there for a second. My own body was not even letting my reach over to the side of my bed for my medication. My own goddamn body was failing me. And I was stuck. I just laid there with tears streaming down my face.
Eventually, I told myself to quit being a baby and I forced my legs over the side of the bed. They were so cramped up that I couldn't even bend them. I scooted on my ass over to my desk and fumbled for my pill bottle. Like Maggie, I live on an arsenal of medications and electrodes and wires. Without them, I wouldn't even be able to move or get out of bed. I tried not taking them for a while but then I had a horrible relapse. And the worst part was admitting defeat, admitting that I won't be able to live my life without taking pills every day. For the rest of my fucking life.
Sometimes, I really wonder what it is about me that makes people like me. I'm trying my hardest to participate and engage in my life now while I'm still healthy. I'm always worried that one day, when I am really sick, no one will want anything to do with me. I won't be fun anymore. I won't be able to do things. I won't be able to drive. I feel so much like the kind of person who wants to be out there, doing things, living in the moment. I always feel like I'm on the inside, looking out the window, wishing I could be like everyone else. But this outer shell just isn't doing it for me. Every second of every day, my entire body aches like it does when most people have the flu. The medication only slightly abates it to the point where it's tolerable. Like anyone else, I have good days, and I have bad days. The bad days have been few and far between lately, but with all of the stress in my life right now, I can feel a relapse coming. When it happens, I'm bed-ridden but I can't call off sick from work. Nobody understands that I'm ill 100% of the time and there is no way to fix it. I've been called a faker so many times that all I can do is just laugh at it. I can barely remember what it was like before I was sick. As a child, I played sports and I was healthy. My body didn't start failing me until high school.
When you're fifteen years old and you feel like you're 85 some days, it's a scary thing. Nobody knew what was wrong with me. I was tested for millions of things, for allergies, for multiple sclerosis, for diabetes, for lupus, for rheumatoid arthritis. And all of them came back negative. And then I come to find out that my brain just doesn't work right. This thing that teaches me things, processes things, looks at the world and tells me it's looking back, this is the thing that is hurting me the most.
Some days, it makes me just want to scream and scream until I have no voice left.
So I sat there, watching Maggie and feeling sorry for myself, and on the TV, she says, "I wouldn't want to be with a sick person either." And I'm looking at my boyfriend and thinking, "I wouldn't want to be with me either." I wouldn't want to be with someone who is so tired every day that she can't keep up the house and gets home from work and can't even move, someone who barely has energy to feed her dog and take her for walks and sometimes can't even move out of bed all day. And yet he's still here, and that gives me hope.
As a woman of many words but few feelings, it's hard for me most of the time to tell people exactly how much they mean to me. I hope he understands and knows how much it means to me, even just the smallest thing, just lying there and letting me put my head on his chest, and breathing with me and being quiet together and holding my hand in his. Just knowing that someone is there for me, someone who understands how I feel every day and makes the best of it. I admire his dedication to his health and the aplomb with which he deals with his Type I diabetes. It's inspiring me to be healthier and to tackle my disease and kick its ass. Being around him is refreshing and relaxing and it's nice to feel like I have a built-in best friend, someone whom I can count on and talk to about things. He came out of left field and he came into my life during a difficult time and turned it into something wonderful.
It's nice to be cared about and cared for, for once. For once, I'm not always the one wondering, worrying, watching. We take care of each other. Isn't that how it's supposed to be?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Twenty-five miscellaneous things about Yours Truly.
1. I seriously fucking hate tomatoes. I cannot stand them. Ever since I was a kid, I had a weird thing with tomatoes. The problem was, everyone else in my family loved them and would put them in everything. And to this day, I still will not eat them. But I will eat pizza...as long as there are no tomatoes on it.
2. I get cold really, really easily. In fact, I am cold so often that I am pretty sure i am going to move to a state where the climate is warm year-round.
3. I have hypoglycemia. It’s the opposite of diabetes. If you see me eating something all of the time, this is why. I have to keep my blood sugar at a high enough level to not die or pass out because if I do, then I'll need to be stabbed with a glucose injection.
4. I really love writing and I want to be a writer. I am really terrible at math so making up shit is the best thing I can come up with to do for a living.
5. If you told me a year ago that my life would be the way it is today, I would have said that you were absolutely insane and possibly a fraud of Miss Cleo proportions. But my life is wonderful the way it turned out.
6. I drink green tea almost every day and I prefer red wine...for the antioxidants.
7. I have four tattoos: One on my wrist, one on my forearm, one on my shoulder, and one on my back. It’s been over a year since I got my last tattoo and I’m itching to get another one soon.
8. I don’t know how to cook.
9. Indian food is my favorite type of cuisine.
10. Due to my caustic sense of humor and general nerdiness, I get along way better with guys than with most girls.
11. I will not wear flares. I hate them.
12. I have terrible night vision and I hate driving at night.
13. I have a mild obsession with zombie and apocalyptic disaster movies.
14. I will eat a bag full of pistachios or Sun Chips until they are all gone.
15. I really like high heels on other people, but I never wear them unless I am going somewhere real fancy.
16. I took some time off of school and now I’m back part-time. I’m hoping to finish my degree so I can has a good job.
17. I used to smoke regularly, and I enjoyed it.
18. I LOVE clothes, but I always get really overwhelmed in stores, so I tend to shop online.
19. My favorite television show is The Office, but South Park is a classic. I also love Breaking Bad and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
20. I fidget a lot.
21. I simply cannot function without coffee. It is vital to my health and wellbeing, as well as my state of mind.
22. I want to live in this certain spot on my boyfriend’s chest. I’d build a house there and never come out.
23. I’ve been obsessed with video games lately. It goes in phases, sometimes I could care less and other times I simply have to play until my fingers fall off.
24. I really don’t like kids, and I’m perfectly okay with never having any.
25. Strawberry is my favorite flavor of anything.
2. I get cold really, really easily. In fact, I am cold so often that I am pretty sure i am going to move to a state where the climate is warm year-round.
3. I have hypoglycemia. It’s the opposite of diabetes. If you see me eating something all of the time, this is why. I have to keep my blood sugar at a high enough level to not die or pass out because if I do, then I'll need to be stabbed with a glucose injection.
4. I really love writing and I want to be a writer. I am really terrible at math so making up shit is the best thing I can come up with to do for a living.
5. If you told me a year ago that my life would be the way it is today, I would have said that you were absolutely insane and possibly a fraud of Miss Cleo proportions. But my life is wonderful the way it turned out.
6. I drink green tea almost every day and I prefer red wine...for the antioxidants.
7. I have four tattoos: One on my wrist, one on my forearm, one on my shoulder, and one on my back. It’s been over a year since I got my last tattoo and I’m itching to get another one soon.
8. I don’t know how to cook.
9. Indian food is my favorite type of cuisine.
10. Due to my caustic sense of humor and general nerdiness, I get along way better with guys than with most girls.
11. I will not wear flares. I hate them.
12. I have terrible night vision and I hate driving at night.
13. I have a mild obsession with zombie and apocalyptic disaster movies.
14. I will eat a bag full of pistachios or Sun Chips until they are all gone.
15. I really like high heels on other people, but I never wear them unless I am going somewhere real fancy.
16. I took some time off of school and now I’m back part-time. I’m hoping to finish my degree so I can has a good job.
17. I used to smoke regularly, and I enjoyed it.
18. I LOVE clothes, but I always get really overwhelmed in stores, so I tend to shop online.
19. My favorite television show is The Office, but South Park is a classic. I also love Breaking Bad and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
20. I fidget a lot.
21. I simply cannot function without coffee. It is vital to my health and wellbeing, as well as my state of mind.
22. I want to live in this certain spot on my boyfriend’s chest. I’d build a house there and never come out.
23. I’ve been obsessed with video games lately. It goes in phases, sometimes I could care less and other times I simply have to play until my fingers fall off.
24. I really don’t like kids, and I’m perfectly okay with never having any.
25. Strawberry is my favorite flavor of anything.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
I don't like other people.
Sometimes I just have to wonder how it is possible for a person to be so completely, utterly, inherently annoying down to the very core of their being.
I think this quite often, and I find that this is often the case the older I get and the more time I spend on a college campus and working in a retail store. People are just obnoxious, oblivious, and rude in general. I'm not sure where our generation became so disinterested in having manners or in minding their own business. It's probably because of Facebook. Facebook allows people to be more transparent, more uninhibited, and more obnoxious, so that tends to carry over into real life.
Thanks a lot for thinking of JewBook, Mark Zuckerberg.
Anyway, this is only my personal theory, but I really do think it's true. Everywhere I go, people are attached to their iPhones or their iPods, letting doors slam in other people's faces and shoving their way through the aisles in classrooms. People throw things on the ground instead of in the trash. People shove all a manner of various and sundry items in the wrong places in stores that they shop in, with no regard for the people who actually have to put them back. People leave trash in annoying places, like on top of the paper towel dispenser in the restroom or shoved on a shelf in my store. And nobody seems to know how to properly dispose of their chewing gum anymore, either.
It disgusts and sickens me. It really does. It's bad enough that I have to LISTEN to people who grow increasingly louder and more attention-seeking in public. Loud groups of people sitting together in the cafeteria or traipsing across campus blasting their pretentious opinions loudly or screaming, "GIRL YOUR HAIR SO CUTE!" across the quad with no regard for the health of anyone else's eardrums fills me with the rage of ten Holocausts. Nobody knows how to shut the hell up anymore, because everyone thinks that they're the next big comedian and that everyone is just going to roll with laughter in their wake.
I grew up in the Midwest, but my mom is from the East Coast and approaches life much differently than most Midwesterners, even though she has lived here for 30 years. Growing up, I learned to do things quickly and to speak quickly and get to the point. My mom has little patience for slow people and meanderers, the types of people who troll around in large groups like overfed cattle, loudly braying their vapid opinions and conversations. And I, as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, am the same exact way.
Do you see me laughing? No. Especially not you, you obnoxious little twerp who blatantly cut me in line today at the cafeteria.
FUCK YOU. Seriously, fuck you. Fuck you with your little stupid beanie and your little stupid striped hipster sweater and your fresh "I just graduated from high school last year and I'm a total bad-ass" attitude. Fuck you and your stupid Converse shoes and your artfully disheveled hair. Your parents probably still give you lunch money and bought you a 2009 Xterra for your 16th birthday. Your outright rudeness and disrespect for anyone else in your surroundings is atrocious. I was VERY CLEARLY standing in line and you just looked RIGHT AT ME IN THE EYES and walked around me and just stood in front of me.
I don't give a shit who cuts me in line, whether it's Robert Downey, Jr. or the Queen of fucking England. I'm going to say something.
So I tapped you on the scrawny little shoulder and said, "Excuse me. I was standing here. Did you not see a girl with blue hair who is at least four inches taller than you just standing right here, patiently waiting to pay for her latte? Was there a momentary short circuit in your brain where you forgot that you were in public and that lines exist for a reason? That was incredibly rude, and you better learn some goddamn manners, son."
And right at that point, another cashier opened up another register, and I walked away and paid for my latte before you even got to buy your Vitamin Water.
To some people, cutting in line might not be a big deal and they might say, "Oh, well, you know, sometimes people might not realize that there's a line" or "Oh, it's not going to do any good to say anything so I might as well just let it go." But nobody just ACCDIENTALLY cuts in line. If I go somewhere and I see someone standing even remotely NEAR the register, I always ask them to make sure that they aren't in line before I go charging ahead to pay for my shit. And if I see someone cutting someone else in line, I will say something.
Nobody expects the tiny, innocent-looking (HAH) girl to say something, so it always comes as a surprise when I put someone in their place. I will not stand for line-cutting. It is a grave injustice to society.
Lines exist for a reason. WAIT YOUR GODDAMN TURN.
I think this quite often, and I find that this is often the case the older I get and the more time I spend on a college campus and working in a retail store. People are just obnoxious, oblivious, and rude in general. I'm not sure where our generation became so disinterested in having manners or in minding their own business. It's probably because of Facebook. Facebook allows people to be more transparent, more uninhibited, and more obnoxious, so that tends to carry over into real life.
Thanks a lot for thinking of JewBook, Mark Zuckerberg.
Anyway, this is only my personal theory, but I really do think it's true. Everywhere I go, people are attached to their iPhones or their iPods, letting doors slam in other people's faces and shoving their way through the aisles in classrooms. People throw things on the ground instead of in the trash. People shove all a manner of various and sundry items in the wrong places in stores that they shop in, with no regard for the people who actually have to put them back. People leave trash in annoying places, like on top of the paper towel dispenser in the restroom or shoved on a shelf in my store. And nobody seems to know how to properly dispose of their chewing gum anymore, either.
It disgusts and sickens me. It really does. It's bad enough that I have to LISTEN to people who grow increasingly louder and more attention-seeking in public. Loud groups of people sitting together in the cafeteria or traipsing across campus blasting their pretentious opinions loudly or screaming, "GIRL YOUR HAIR SO CUTE!" across the quad with no regard for the health of anyone else's eardrums fills me with the rage of ten Holocausts. Nobody knows how to shut the hell up anymore, because everyone thinks that they're the next big comedian and that everyone is just going to roll with laughter in their wake.
I grew up in the Midwest, but my mom is from the East Coast and approaches life much differently than most Midwesterners, even though she has lived here for 30 years. Growing up, I learned to do things quickly and to speak quickly and get to the point. My mom has little patience for slow people and meanderers, the types of people who troll around in large groups like overfed cattle, loudly braying their vapid opinions and conversations. And I, as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, am the same exact way.
Do you see me laughing? No. Especially not you, you obnoxious little twerp who blatantly cut me in line today at the cafeteria.
FUCK YOU. Seriously, fuck you. Fuck you with your little stupid beanie and your little stupid striped hipster sweater and your fresh "I just graduated from high school last year and I'm a total bad-ass" attitude. Fuck you and your stupid Converse shoes and your artfully disheveled hair. Your parents probably still give you lunch money and bought you a 2009 Xterra for your 16th birthday. Your outright rudeness and disrespect for anyone else in your surroundings is atrocious. I was VERY CLEARLY standing in line and you just looked RIGHT AT ME IN THE EYES and walked around me and just stood in front of me.
I don't give a shit who cuts me in line, whether it's Robert Downey, Jr. or the Queen of fucking England. I'm going to say something.
So I tapped you on the scrawny little shoulder and said, "Excuse me. I was standing here. Did you not see a girl with blue hair who is at least four inches taller than you just standing right here, patiently waiting to pay for her latte? Was there a momentary short circuit in your brain where you forgot that you were in public and that lines exist for a reason? That was incredibly rude, and you better learn some goddamn manners, son."
And right at that point, another cashier opened up another register, and I walked away and paid for my latte before you even got to buy your Vitamin Water.
To some people, cutting in line might not be a big deal and they might say, "Oh, well, you know, sometimes people might not realize that there's a line" or "Oh, it's not going to do any good to say anything so I might as well just let it go." But nobody just ACCDIENTALLY cuts in line. If I go somewhere and I see someone standing even remotely NEAR the register, I always ask them to make sure that they aren't in line before I go charging ahead to pay for my shit. And if I see someone cutting someone else in line, I will say something.
Nobody expects the tiny, innocent-looking (HAH) girl to say something, so it always comes as a surprise when I put someone in their place. I will not stand for line-cutting. It is a grave injustice to society.
Lines exist for a reason. WAIT YOUR GODDAMN TURN.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Things I need: Rainy day edition.
Rainy days just make me want to sit at home in bed and look at things that I want to buy online. I just got paid, so this is probably a dangerous activity.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The chef's salad that I got at the cafeteria on campus. It was surprisingly awesome: Lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, black olives, Swiss and Cheddar cheese, turkey, and drenched Caitlin-style in Thousand Island dressing. I went in on that shit like a baby dinosaur.
Sitting at my favorite spot in the cafeteria listening to "Magic Bus" by The Who. I promise that this is my excited face.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Things I need: Totally Lazy Day Edition.
I've been bumming it at home for two days since I'm off of work and I don't have my car back from the shop yet. I've been spending my time playing video games (THANKS, BABYCAKES <3) and looking at things that I want to buy online.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
The speech that I should have given yesterday.
I wrote a speech the other day for my public speaking class, and the speech turned into a question and answer session about my tattoos and how I get my bangs so blue. I don't think anyone even really listened to what I actually said, they were too busy ahhing over pictures of Juno.
But, I digress. Since no one actually LISTENED to my real speech, I think I should have said something more like this, since I could have easily gotten away with it:
"Hey, you guys. My name is Caitlin and I am 22 years old but sometimes I feel and act like I am 80 years old. My joints pop and creak constantly because I am sick with a chronic neurological disease and I pretty much always feel like I've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. I also hate going out at night and I don't drink anymore. On the plus side, I have an awesome family and friends, an awesome boyfriend, and a really cute dog, so my life is not all that bad. I work both full- and part-time and I'm taking this class so I can learn to talk good. If it was a distance-learning course, that would be even better, because being in a classroom full of people makes me anxious and people don't walk quickly enough on campus. This is my sixth year at Wright State because I took some time off in-between to work. I live off of coffee and a cocktail of various medications, which often makes me feel like Dr. House, MD or Nurse Jackie. I don't even watch those shows. In my free time, I like to write about the things I like and don't like. More often than not, I end up writing about things that I don't like birds, clowns, and babies.
Today I am going to talk about the three things that are most important to me, just like everyone else you guys have pretended to listened to today. The first thing is sleep. I have chronic fatigue, which often conversely leads to insomnia. This means that I can sometimes stay up all night staring at things on the Internet and trying not to buy them. So, when I finally get a chance to sleep, or sleep in, I refuse to be bothered by anything. Sleep is the Holy Grail of my life.
The second most important thing to me is my dog, Juno. I am a proud mama to my baby girl. She came to me last summer from another family who rescued her. She is an all-black Lab/Basenji mix and she is basically the greatest thing ever. She'll be two this August. She is my best friend and a total goofball and she is also totally gorgeous. All of the boy dogs in our neighborhood are in love with her and she doesn't even pay them any attention. She's an Ice Queen just like me. I love her.
The third most important thing to me is my sense of humor. Without it, I would not be writing this speech or writing my blog and I would probably be drunk all the time. If I didn't have a quirky and weird sense of humor about things, my life would suck so much more. I grew up pretty poor. My parents raised me to laugh about everything and to be the first one to laugh at myself since I was the kid who couldn't afford to wear brand name clothes or to eat brand name Lunchables. I've carried that sense of humor through the rest of my life. It has served and will continue to serve me well.
In conclusion, those are the three things that are important to me. Of course, there are many other important things in life, like coffee, warm weather, video games, walks on the beach and all of that other good stuff, but these three things are the most important to me right now. The best part is that it will keep changing--even though when I'm 30, I hope that I'll still be able to sleep, and that I'll still have my dog, and that I'll still be laughing at life."
But, I digress. Since no one actually LISTENED to my real speech, I think I should have said something more like this, since I could have easily gotten away with it:
"Hey, you guys. My name is Caitlin and I am 22 years old but sometimes I feel and act like I am 80 years old. My joints pop and creak constantly because I am sick with a chronic neurological disease and I pretty much always feel like I've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. I also hate going out at night and I don't drink anymore. On the plus side, I have an awesome family and friends, an awesome boyfriend, and a really cute dog, so my life is not all that bad. I work both full- and part-time and I'm taking this class so I can learn to talk good. If it was a distance-learning course, that would be even better, because being in a classroom full of people makes me anxious and people don't walk quickly enough on campus. This is my sixth year at Wright State because I took some time off in-between to work. I live off of coffee and a cocktail of various medications, which often makes me feel like Dr. House, MD or Nurse Jackie. I don't even watch those shows. In my free time, I like to write about the things I like and don't like. More often than not, I end up writing about things that I don't like birds, clowns, and babies.
Today I am going to talk about the three things that are most important to me, just like everyone else you guys have pretended to listened to today. The first thing is sleep. I have chronic fatigue, which often conversely leads to insomnia. This means that I can sometimes stay up all night staring at things on the Internet and trying not to buy them. So, when I finally get a chance to sleep, or sleep in, I refuse to be bothered by anything. Sleep is the Holy Grail of my life.
The second most important thing to me is my dog, Juno. I am a proud mama to my baby girl. She came to me last summer from another family who rescued her. She is an all-black Lab/Basenji mix and she is basically the greatest thing ever. She'll be two this August. She is my best friend and a total goofball and she is also totally gorgeous. All of the boy dogs in our neighborhood are in love with her and she doesn't even pay them any attention. She's an Ice Queen just like me. I love her.
The third most important thing to me is my sense of humor. Without it, I would not be writing this speech or writing my blog and I would probably be drunk all the time. If I didn't have a quirky and weird sense of humor about things, my life would suck so much more. I grew up pretty poor. My parents raised me to laugh about everything and to be the first one to laugh at myself since I was the kid who couldn't afford to wear brand name clothes or to eat brand name Lunchables. I've carried that sense of humor through the rest of my life. It has served and will continue to serve me well.
In conclusion, those are the three things that are important to me. Of course, there are many other important things in life, like coffee, warm weather, video games, walks on the beach and all of that other good stuff, but these three things are the most important to me right now. The best part is that it will keep changing--even though when I'm 30, I hope that I'll still be able to sleep, and that I'll still have my dog, and that I'll still be laughing at life."
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Somebody on Facebook posted a link to this website:
http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/
I've been on it for like, two hours. It's amazing and inspiring. It's reminding me that I'm not the only one, and things could be a lot worse.
http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/
I've been on it for like, two hours. It's amazing and inspiring. It's reminding me that I'm not the only one, and things could be a lot worse.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I'm living in La La Land.
WARNING: EXTREMELY GAY POST AHEAD
I'm happy. I don't care what anyone else says, thinks, or does. I'm happy.
I didn't think it would happen so soon. I thought it would take so much more time for me to feel like a normal human being again. My insides had been scooped out and stomped on and thrown around so much that I wasn't sure if I could ever repair myself. I think back to the way my life was just six months ago, and how different my life is now. I feel so much freer. And even though I'm going to school part-time and working crazy hours, I'm still happy, and less stressed, and I feel like my eyes have been re-opened again to how beautiful and amazing life can be sometimes.
I feel like a different person. I have a wonderful, supportive family. My mom drives me nuts but always gives me a reality check and listens to me when I'm upset. My dad and I have amazing conversations and we share the same sense of humor and taste in books. My brother is my best friend and I sometimes hate that he's an hour away in Columbus but I know that it isn't forever and that going to school there makes him happy, because he's an amazing artist and an awesome person to boot. My baby brother (and when I say "baby" I mean "almost 17"...eeeeek!) is a total riot and the kid has a good heart and a good head on his shoulders. My friends have put up with my bullshit for years and have helped me out more than they could possibly ever know. I love you guys. Each and every one of you.
I have the most adorable, loving, sweetest, cuddliest little baby girl ever. I don't care how obnoxious it is that I love my dog more than anything in the universe. She has taught me more about life in the last eight months than I have learned in the last eight years. I honestly believe that she was sent to find me. I'm so lucky to have her. I don't know what I would have done in the last few months without her. On the days when I didn't feel like getting out bed because I was too depressed, her little wiggly ass running around the house trying to get me to play or curling up against my back in bed and comforting me when I was sad forced me to get up and continue living real life. Having her kept me sane, and kept me from entering a darker place in my mind. She was there to remind me, "Hey, you have other responsibilities, and as long as you feed my fat little butt, I'll sit on your lap while you cry into my fur."
And lastly, my awesome boyfriend. He came out of nowhere and he kicks ass. I've never really matched someone so well in personality, sense of humor, and everything else under the sun, yadda yadda.
Life is real good, y'all.
I'm happy. I don't care what anyone else says, thinks, or does. I'm happy.
I didn't think it would happen so soon. I thought it would take so much more time for me to feel like a normal human being again. My insides had been scooped out and stomped on and thrown around so much that I wasn't sure if I could ever repair myself. I think back to the way my life was just six months ago, and how different my life is now. I feel so much freer. And even though I'm going to school part-time and working crazy hours, I'm still happy, and less stressed, and I feel like my eyes have been re-opened again to how beautiful and amazing life can be sometimes.
I feel like a different person. I have a wonderful, supportive family. My mom drives me nuts but always gives me a reality check and listens to me when I'm upset. My dad and I have amazing conversations and we share the same sense of humor and taste in books. My brother is my best friend and I sometimes hate that he's an hour away in Columbus but I know that it isn't forever and that going to school there makes him happy, because he's an amazing artist and an awesome person to boot. My baby brother (and when I say "baby" I mean "almost 17"...eeeeek!) is a total riot and the kid has a good heart and a good head on his shoulders. My friends have put up with my bullshit for years and have helped me out more than they could possibly ever know. I love you guys. Each and every one of you.
I have the most adorable, loving, sweetest, cuddliest little baby girl ever. I don't care how obnoxious it is that I love my dog more than anything in the universe. She has taught me more about life in the last eight months than I have learned in the last eight years. I honestly believe that she was sent to find me. I'm so lucky to have her. I don't know what I would have done in the last few months without her. On the days when I didn't feel like getting out bed because I was too depressed, her little wiggly ass running around the house trying to get me to play or curling up against my back in bed and comforting me when I was sad forced me to get up and continue living real life. Having her kept me sane, and kept me from entering a darker place in my mind. She was there to remind me, "Hey, you have other responsibilities, and as long as you feed my fat little butt, I'll sit on your lap while you cry into my fur."
And lastly, my awesome boyfriend. He came out of nowhere and he kicks ass. I've never really matched someone so well in personality, sense of humor, and everything else under the sun, yadda yadda.
Life is real good, y'all.
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