'As of late, things have been utterly apparent to me. The obviousness of possibly not so obvious things astounds me, really. I draw parallels and thoughts from seemingly nothing, but at the same time everything and anything. Literature, textbooks, newspapers, stories, conversations, pictures and even the god damned earth.
I see myself, mostly, or my situations. While reading "The Things they Carried" by Tim O'Brien, my mind was shocked yet wrapped it's nimble little thoughts around a certain character. What perked my interest came over a few pages. She was described as having grey eyes, an English major, fair, smart and a "member of a world that is not quite real." With conversations and interests lately, this struck me hard. Instantly, this elusive girl became slightly portlier than described, her hair auburn and she grew a sharp, distinguished chin. Her reasons made sense, but with that, a sudden, hard-hitting pang of guilt paralyzed me. She was the obsession of this 24 year old man who sees her everywhere and thinks about her constantly. Whether or not the last bit is true is something I am not supposed to think about, but I suppose it might be true.
Or, perhaps I am the one who is obsessed. Not meaning to, have my thoughts grown to more? Perhaps...
"He loved her, but he hated her..."'
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Yearning for a Best Friend
It's funny, how someone can give everything, asking only for a little support in the end only to get shot in the face. That always seems to happen to me, but never has it hurt more than with a best friend. Everyone needs a best friend, teen aged girls especially. They need someone to gossip with that won't judge them, someone to talk to when times get hard, someone to support when the other is down to teach humility and humbleness, someone to get excited with when good grades or extraordinary news come about, someone to cry with when things go bad on either end, and most importantly, someone you can have fun with without caring who you really are.
I had all that. I had possibly the strongest friendship I have ever had, because in high school, things change drastically. And she was there from my sophomore year until half-way through my senior year. We were both always moving, so life-long friendships were near impossible. We did everything together -- quite literally attached at the hip. It was possibly the best time of my life.
I was always there for her. She was very protective of me, and I loved it. I basked in being needed, but when it came my turn to need help since at the time I had a complete melt-down since my fiance was supposed to be leaving for the military. Now, even after all I had been through with her, it was just "okay" for me to be upset. It was just me over-reacting with everything. Sometimes, someone needs to be told their right, even when they're not to feel better. That's what I had done so many times with her. I tried my damnest to help her always. I helped her through a heart-wrenching breakup, even started hating one of my best friends for her. Then to be "helped" like that was a stab in the heart. So, in essence, I "broke up" with her. I couldn't handle having a one-sided relationship that wasn't helping me any, which is selfish. I understand that, but she was more. I now have a complex about being selfish, but sometimes you have to be, no matter how much it hurts.
I just wish she would get it. She accused me of not helping her enough, turning the conversation once again right back to her, after I had apologized, while receiving NO apology whatsoever from her for not caring in the first place.
C'est le Vie!? Fuck it.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Cancer?
My school has a lovely little tradition of putting a "Toilet Talk" newsletter on the inside of stall doors, so that as someone is being forced to use the community bathrooms all over campus, they have lovely built in reading material. It's mainly about health issues, you know, normal stuff people think about as they go to the bathroom.
This months issue sported an article about how microwave popcorn popcorn can give you lung cancer. It even cited information from a professional study and actual medical record. This poor man from Idaho ate Orville Reddenbocker every day, and began to wheeze, cough, and was unable to take a full breath. Turns out -- yadda yadda yadda. The main point is - popcorn a source of cancer?
It has always been my opinion that scientist are just grasping at straws when it comes to cancer. They find a common factor, so some bull shit study on it, and then deem it dangerous. Case in point - HPV. It's always been there, so why now is it bad? Everyone has it, meaning everyone that has had uterine cancer has had it. This must be the problem! So let's give all young girls a shot to get rid of something that naturally occurs in the body.
It seems like everything causes cancer now-a-days anyway. We're all going to eventually die, although we don't know what time or of what, so why fight it?! So what if being outside, eating, having sex, or even breathing give you cancer. People should live their lives, because a life lived in fear is not a life at all.
AMEN
This months issue sported an article about how microwave popcorn popcorn can give you lung cancer. It even cited information from a professional study and actual medical record. This poor man from Idaho ate Orville Reddenbocker every day, and began to wheeze, cough, and was unable to take a full breath. Turns out -- yadda yadda yadda. The main point is - popcorn a source of cancer?
It has always been my opinion that scientist are just grasping at straws when it comes to cancer. They find a common factor, so some bull shit study on it, and then deem it dangerous. Case in point - HPV. It's always been there, so why now is it bad? Everyone has it, meaning everyone that has had uterine cancer has had it. This must be the problem! So let's give all young girls a shot to get rid of something that naturally occurs in the body.
It seems like everything causes cancer now-a-days anyway. We're all going to eventually die, although we don't know what time or of what, so why fight it?! So what if being outside, eating, having sex, or even breathing give you cancer. People should live their lives, because a life lived in fear is not a life at all.
AMEN
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The Secret of My Smile
If you have ever talked to me face to face, you will notice I love to smile. It goes along with laughing, but it's something that lights my whole face. Though some people know of my dark past with this $12,000 dollar smile, most of you don't.
When I was eight years old, my younger brother and I were playing in our backyard in Texas. Like all Military houses, it had a small strip of concrete as an attempt of a porch, and then the rest of the yard was grass. Our little humble piece of concrete was covered in an empty plastic baby pool, which for two children under ten years old, was a wonderful thing to have on the scorching summer days. But, as summer ended, the water was emptied, leaving the pool still a worthy plaything. Anyway, this day as we were playing outside, hide-and-seek was our game of choice. It came to be my turn, and in a spark of thoughtful brilliance, I hid under the already overturned pool. When Ben was done counting, he looked around for a moment, and then judging by the quickness of my sounds and the fact that I was nowhere to be seen in a quick count to 20, he figured out that I was under the pool. Meanwhile, I was curled up under it, in almost a fetal position, only instead of having my side against the ground, my knees and elbows were propping me up ever so slightly. Thinking it would be funny, he revved back, and then vaulted himself onto the pool.
Because of my position with my head down on the concrete slab, and the precise judgment from the five-year-old above me, my head smacked into the unmoving rock. Instantly, both of my lips split, and I felt extreme pressure in my mouth. I started to cry at once, and ran into my house, leaving my brother dazed, sitting on the pool. When my mother looked at me, blood covered and crying, she almost fainted. Not only was I bleeding profusely from my lips, tongue and nose, I also sported a cleanly shattered front tooth. My parents rushed me to a dentist, where they put a cap on my tooth. Being a second grader with funny teeth is no big deal. Kids are still losing and growing teeth in, so it was no big deal. After a while, I got a root canal, and a permanent cap.
Later, the summer before my first year of middle school, I was wrestling with a few of my cousins, as I usually do. I received a blow to my chin, and then an odd dense of dread returned as I felt something slide down my throat. As I pushed the boys off of me, I ran to bathroom, and a familiar face stared back at me. The "permanent" cap had come loose, and it was just my luck that I swallowed it. I once again started to cry. Sixth grade was a big step, and to be starting it in a new school among other things, having moved just a few months before, made it all the harder.
Middle school was hell. I don't know if you can add it up to my parent's laziness, or their lack of funds, but I went all three years of it with one and a half front teeth. Only during my first month of high school did they act, and only because the stubbed tooth was turning black. I had the tooth removed, and in the process, they shaved the three teeth around it down to act as bases for a bridge. This left me with a beautiful smile that I had always hoped for. I was happier than I ever had been, and on top of that, I was getting the attention I thought I deserved all along. the only thing was, was that they had shaved down the posts too small, leaving not enough base to hold the bridge on. Over and over again, they cemented it in, until a new round of x-rays showed that because of the initial trauma, my bone was decaying under my gums, therein lying the real problem. Again, nothing was done about it for years, until that fateful day in January of 2007. I was with a bunch of friends at the local Polar Bear Plunge, where were jump into 35 degree weather to benefit the special Olympics, and all was great. It was my best friends birthday, and we all had decided to party afterwards. By this time, my bridge was hardly staying in. When it was our turn to run into the freezing water, we did so, and having made a bet with each other earlier, we all dunked ourselves completely under. As I surfaced, I instantly began to chatter my teeth, thanks to the temperature, and at the same moment, I was elbowed by another wave of Plungers. The next thing I knew, I was clawing the water, watching the $4,000 piece of porcelain sway it's way to the bottom of the bay I was standing in, water up to my chest. I submerged myself for the next five minutes, to the point where the paramedics watching on yelled at me. Inconsolable, thinking only of how I was going to get killed, I broke down on the beach, shivering and a heaving wreck. I was numb not only from the frigid water and the prolonged exposure to it, but from fear and dread. The bus ride home was the longest of my life, as guilt was added to me, since everyone was worried about me, completely forgetting about my best friends birthday. I opted not to go to the party, feeling I would be a huge distraction.
Once home, I cried myself to sleep, and was hopelessly ignored by my mother, who was only thinking about the hole in her pocket this was going to cause her. I couldn't get warm, and was alone, since Josh was on a trip.
Later that week, I was sent to the dentist again, where they told me I was going to have to have the following done. A) Have invasive dental surgery to pull the three stubbed teeth out, since the bridge had failed; B) Have my wisdom teeth cut out at the same time C) Get my gums on my top jaw peeled back and stuffed with bone from a cadaver. All of this was just the first step. After a 2 hour surgery, and two weeks out of school during my senior year, here I am today, with four teeth missing up front, and a fake "flipper" made of plastic quite literally glued to my gums.
Next step - another tooth pulled, then braces, which will hold fake teeth ,to straighten my teeth. Then more bone graphs, and then four dental implants. When this last few steps will happen, I don't know.
When I was eight years old, my younger brother and I were playing in our backyard in Texas. Like all Military houses, it had a small strip of concrete as an attempt of a porch, and then the rest of the yard was grass. Our little humble piece of concrete was covered in an empty plastic baby pool, which for two children under ten years old, was a wonderful thing to have on the scorching summer days. But, as summer ended, the water was emptied, leaving the pool still a worthy plaything. Anyway, this day as we were playing outside, hide-and-seek was our game of choice. It came to be my turn, and in a spark of thoughtful brilliance, I hid under the already overturned pool. When Ben was done counting, he looked around for a moment, and then judging by the quickness of my sounds and the fact that I was nowhere to be seen in a quick count to 20, he figured out that I was under the pool. Meanwhile, I was curled up under it, in almost a fetal position, only instead of having my side against the ground, my knees and elbows were propping me up ever so slightly. Thinking it would be funny, he revved back, and then vaulted himself onto the pool.
Because of my position with my head down on the concrete slab, and the precise judgment from the five-year-old above me, my head smacked into the unmoving rock. Instantly, both of my lips split, and I felt extreme pressure in my mouth. I started to cry at once, and ran into my house, leaving my brother dazed, sitting on the pool. When my mother looked at me, blood covered and crying, she almost fainted. Not only was I bleeding profusely from my lips, tongue and nose, I also sported a cleanly shattered front tooth. My parents rushed me to a dentist, where they put a cap on my tooth. Being a second grader with funny teeth is no big deal. Kids are still losing and growing teeth in, so it was no big deal. After a while, I got a root canal, and a permanent cap.
Later, the summer before my first year of middle school, I was wrestling with a few of my cousins, as I usually do. I received a blow to my chin, and then an odd dense of dread returned as I felt something slide down my throat. As I pushed the boys off of me, I ran to bathroom, and a familiar face stared back at me. The "permanent" cap had come loose, and it was just my luck that I swallowed it. I once again started to cry. Sixth grade was a big step, and to be starting it in a new school among other things, having moved just a few months before, made it all the harder.
Middle school was hell. I don't know if you can add it up to my parent's laziness, or their lack of funds, but I went all three years of it with one and a half front teeth. Only during my first month of high school did they act, and only because the stubbed tooth was turning black. I had the tooth removed, and in the process, they shaved the three teeth around it down to act as bases for a bridge. This left me with a beautiful smile that I had always hoped for. I was happier than I ever had been, and on top of that, I was getting the attention I thought I deserved all along. the only thing was, was that they had shaved down the posts too small, leaving not enough base to hold the bridge on. Over and over again, they cemented it in, until a new round of x-rays showed that because of the initial trauma, my bone was decaying under my gums, therein lying the real problem. Again, nothing was done about it for years, until that fateful day in January of 2007. I was with a bunch of friends at the local Polar Bear Plunge, where were jump into 35 degree weather to benefit the special Olympics, and all was great. It was my best friends birthday, and we all had decided to party afterwards. By this time, my bridge was hardly staying in. When it was our turn to run into the freezing water, we did so, and having made a bet with each other earlier, we all dunked ourselves completely under. As I surfaced, I instantly began to chatter my teeth, thanks to the temperature, and at the same moment, I was elbowed by another wave of Plungers. The next thing I knew, I was clawing the water, watching the $4,000 piece of porcelain sway it's way to the bottom of the bay I was standing in, water up to my chest. I submerged myself for the next five minutes, to the point where the paramedics watching on yelled at me. Inconsolable, thinking only of how I was going to get killed, I broke down on the beach, shivering and a heaving wreck. I was numb not only from the frigid water and the prolonged exposure to it, but from fear and dread. The bus ride home was the longest of my life, as guilt was added to me, since everyone was worried about me, completely forgetting about my best friends birthday. I opted not to go to the party, feeling I would be a huge distraction.
Once home, I cried myself to sleep, and was hopelessly ignored by my mother, who was only thinking about the hole in her pocket this was going to cause her. I couldn't get warm, and was alone, since Josh was on a trip.
Later that week, I was sent to the dentist again, where they told me I was going to have to have the following done. A) Have invasive dental surgery to pull the three stubbed teeth out, since the bridge had failed; B) Have my wisdom teeth cut out at the same time C) Get my gums on my top jaw peeled back and stuffed with bone from a cadaver. All of this was just the first step. After a 2 hour surgery, and two weeks out of school during my senior year, here I am today, with four teeth missing up front, and a fake "flipper" made of plastic quite literally glued to my gums.
Next step - another tooth pulled, then braces, which will hold fake teeth ,to straighten my teeth. Then more bone graphs, and then four dental implants. When this last few steps will happen, I don't know.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Catepiller Heroine
On a blustery and rainy Septemeber morning, poor three-month-old Fred The Caterpillar was struggling along the puddled sidewalk on the Manchester College Campus. His fuzzy spines clung together with the moisture and his stubby legs were not long enough to keep him out of further puddles. Narrowly did he avoid being stepped on countless times as umbrella-weilding college students dashed about, caring too much about themselves and their schedules to take a glance down at poor Fred.
It took the idle, continuous, downward stares from a first year student, Jessica Hickerson, to spot the helpless creature. Her thoughtful glances downwards while trying to digest information from her newspaper interview let her gaze fall upon Fred. Stopping and switching her umbrella to a free hand, Hickerson knelt down and attempted to pick up the frightened caterpillar. After a moment, she successfully put him on the tip of her finger, then proceeded to walk to the nearest tree, where she dispersed her new found friend.
"I love bugs, and I have never been afraid of them. And I think they have a right to live as much as everyone else," Hickerson said when asked of her stances on bug rights. "Don't tell Fred, but everyone on my floor calls on me when a stray bug gets into their room."
Caterpillar was not at an altitude in which an interview could be conducted on the matter.
Hickerson, however, after returning to her dorm, was reported to have fallen down the stairs in her wet flip flops. Her injuries are minimal.
(edited after better learning) :))
It took the idle, continuous, downward stares from a first year student, Jessica Hickerson, to spot the helpless creature. Her thoughtful glances downwards while trying to digest information from her newspaper interview let her gaze fall upon Fred. Stopping and switching her umbrella to a free hand, Hickerson knelt down and attempted to pick up the frightened caterpillar. After a moment, she successfully put him on the tip of her finger, then proceeded to walk to the nearest tree, where she dispersed her new found friend.
"I love bugs, and I have never been afraid of them. And I think they have a right to live as much as everyone else," Hickerson said when asked of her stances on bug rights. "Don't tell Fred, but everyone on my floor calls on me when a stray bug gets into their room."
Caterpillar was not at an altitude in which an interview could be conducted on the matter.
Hickerson, however, after returning to her dorm, was reported to have fallen down the stairs in her wet flip flops. Her injuries are minimal.
(edited after better learning) :))
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
QoIO and Clutzy McGee Marry
That's right -- I'm at an all time low for my clutz problem. Just about ten minutes ago, the battle with my fan ended, me losing horrible. My fan, thanks to my brother, won't stand up straight, it always end up tilting backwards. The only way to get it to lock into place is by letting it set facing in a slightly downwards angle. This of course, was about to be proven wrong.
Every morning, I have coffee from my lovely little two mug maker, without which I would de dead. This coffee comes out piping hot, so in my rush, I put it in front of my fan. This usually works and I just grab it, swap it in my travel mug and then walk out the door. Well, since I was returning to my room after one class already this morning, I took a different turn. I poured myself a new cup straight into my travel mug and set it in front of my fan. I turned around to go empty part of my nap sack only to be met by a loud thunk, and then a very loud and wet crash. I turned around to see coffee everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. It had bouunced onto the ceiling, and onto the walls, saturated my sweats that were on the back of my chair completely, and had run into every nook and cranny of the corner.
It amazes me sometimes, just what I can accomplish. Perhaps I should take my show on the road. Luckily though, not all is lost, I have ice coffee in my fridge.
Every morning, I have coffee from my lovely little two mug maker, without which I would de dead. This coffee comes out piping hot, so in my rush, I put it in front of my fan. This usually works and I just grab it, swap it in my travel mug and then walk out the door. Well, since I was returning to my room after one class already this morning, I took a different turn. I poured myself a new cup straight into my travel mug and set it in front of my fan. I turned around to go empty part of my nap sack only to be met by a loud thunk, and then a very loud and wet crash. I turned around to see coffee everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. It had bouunced onto the ceiling, and onto the walls, saturated my sweats that were on the back of my chair completely, and had run into every nook and cranny of the corner.
It amazes me sometimes, just what I can accomplish. Perhaps I should take my show on the road. Luckily though, not all is lost, I have ice coffee in my fridge.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Brad Paisley Does it Again
http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=11974301
Yeah, I know, another blog about country music, but this is MY blog.
Anyway, this song is great enough, but as usual, Brad Paisley adds to it so much with his music video. He has Patrick Warburton, Jason Alexander, William Shatner and that old lady with the really screechy voice. I can't find her name anywhere, but oh well. It is a hilarious video. But I have to admit, all I can think of is Josh (except for the "never been to second base" line)
Yeah, I know, another blog about country music, but this is MY blog.
Anyway, this song is great enough, but as usual, Brad Paisley adds to it so much with his music video. He has Patrick Warburton, Jason Alexander, William Shatner and that old lady with the really screechy voice. I can't find her name anywhere, but oh well. It is a hilarious video. But I have to admit, all I can think of is Josh (except for the "never been to second base" line)
- "And I head down to my basement bedroom"
- "In real life the only time I’ve ever even been to L.AIs when I got the chance with the marching band To play tuba in the Rose Parade"
- "I'm a scifi fanatic"
The video ends with Jason Alexanders character growing enough courage to talk to the girl next door, but it's so great how he does it! He pulls an old marching band uniform out of his closet, and the next thing you see is the marching down the middle of the road, him with his tuba, her in a majorette uniform - baton and all. Then the mother (screechy voice lady) looks at Brad Paisley and smiles, saying "Marching music makes me... HOT." And of course, the music is brassified.
Pretty cool! Give it a watch.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Clutzy McGee
Today marks the exact week anniversary of me living on my own in my quaint little dorm. A milestone, some would say - a need to celebrate my new found freedom! Well, it seems subconsciously, I did just that.
During this week on my own, everything has gone pretty smoothly. I have gotten to my classes without any major catastrophe, done all of my homework, managed to keep my room clean, make myself food, and do my own laundry. All of these are milestones in themselves, I assure you, but the one week came like the one year warranty in cartoons - everything goes to hell. This morning after sleeping in until about 11, I got up, and like I usually do, grabbed for my bathroom tote. It seems that last night, in my sleepiness and grogginess from doing homework, I moved said tote, and replaced it with a half finished cup of ice coffee. In my feeble, blind attempt to get my tote, I succeeded in knocking the cup off my dresser. Opening my eyes slowly, I realized what I had done, mumbled a few choice words, and cleaned it up. After waking up some more, I figured this was lucky, since throughout the week, I have had nothing happen of the sort.
Later, after lunch, I decided that it was nice and cool for once in my room, so I would study on my study bed. after gathering up all of my books and notebooks, I made my way over to it and was unpleasantly surprised. Being close to the door, my other bed had become the drop station for all of the things that were in my hands as I walked in the door. So, I put down my books and began clearing it off. When a teenager cleans something off, chances are, they're not gonna do it right. What better storage unit is there than the floor? As I was doing this, I came to my mouth wash, which, like I everything else, I knocked off my bed in a fell swoop. As soon as my hand came off of it, I knew I was shit out of luck. The top popped off, and it's contents began to pour out onto the carpet square near my sleeping bed. With a quick grab, I managed to get it after not much had spilled, but the damage had already been done. There was a thin sheet of green on my tile floor and stains on my carpet, and worst of all my poor little Jessie-Bear had a green swipe to the back of the head like someone Had shot her execution style with a paintball gun. Horrified, I picked up her fluffy body and ran to a friends rooms, whose laughter could be heard through the hall as I stood in front of her, pouting with my bear in hand.
I ran to the bathroom and doused Jessi-Bear in water, squeezing her until all the minty bubbles stopped. (Which sounds more of an execution than the paintball theory.) After about 20 minutes of wringing her out, she is now camped out in front of my fan, getting a nice fresh air dry.
The good thing to come out of this: at least Jessie-Bear smells good.
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