I just finished reading the interview by Christopher Bollen with Michael Stipe. I have always admired Michael Stipe and R.E.M. Their albums have been the soundtrack to my childhood. Some of my very earliest memories have R.E.M. playing in the background: I danced around with my daddy in the living room of our house in San Antonio; I blasted Monster from our new stereo when I was 10; we listened to them on our many family road trips... Goodness, as often as we listened to it while driving to and fro during the holidays, Automatic for the People may as well be a Christmas album. So with that in mind, it's very appropriate that R.E.M. is breaking up as I end my adolescence (as much as it pains me to admit that I am 25 and only just now leaving adolescence).

Stipe's candidness was striking after so many years of public reticence. He readily admits his shyness, and considers becoming a singer for a band "the most courageous thing" he ever did. The early "mumbling" delivery style that he was so famous for using is an example of how afraid he was to open up. I was really struck by that, because I too feel so fearful of that vulnerability.

So even though he will never see this, or know that this insignificant person feels this way about him, I just wanted to thank Michael Stipe for finding it within himself to open himself up to us.

Outside Scope

I really need to reconsider how I feel about myself. So much of how I think of myself comes from outside. I crave outside validation in a terrible, messed up way.

I realize there is no real reason for me to feel this way. Rationally I know I'm fine, that I'm attractive, funny and intelligent; it just doesn't hold up to how I feel emotionally about myself. So then I try too hard, and lose what external validation is coming my way.

I feel kinda nuts.

Thoughts on Loss

It's funny how your brain needs to reorganize your thoughts when something big in your life changes.

When my Pap Paw died in September it took me several weeks to realize that he was really gone. I had to re-frame everything about parts of my life. At breakfast, lunch and dinner I would remember and grieve. I would think of summer and think, "I'll have black-eyed peas and fresh corn from the garden," and then suddenly have to remember that he was gone... A sale on Bluebell sparked the usual thought of "If Pap Paw sees this he'll buy all 5!" Each time I would have to remind myself, "No, he's gone. That is over now."

The same is with when you break up with someone. You have to go through each part of your mind and re-label "boyfriend" as something else; he is now ex-boyfriend, my ex, or just his name. I run across things and think "I'll have to show/do that with/talk about it with him... shit."

I wonder if my brain is physically re-organizing itself, growing new paths, forcibly pruning the incorrect ones. Maybe that's why it's so hard.

RE: Letter to Me from My Stomach

Dear Stomach,

You can pretend that we've gotten along fairly well, but you're fooling yourself.

In reference to "the time I made you throw up in front of everyone in school," that was one time? It wasn't every day? Really?

You're just too sensitive. A piece of lettuce in pudding does not make normal stomachs turn themselves inside-out and throw everything on the ground in panic.

If I wasn't in a committed relationship I would divorce you.


Hannah

Letter to Me From My Stomach

Dear Hannah,

I know that in the past we have gotten along fairly well. We've had some upsets (like the time I made you throw up in front of everyone in school) but we've had our good times too.

I just wanted to let you know that while you enjoyed drinking $1 doubles that nice man bought you (3 of them, you should write your liver a thank you note) following it up with frozen yogurt was disrespectful. Like, you know I don't like that, and you throw it on top of liquor? You repugnant bitch.

So, enjoy all the passive-aggressive signals I'll be sending you for the next few hours.

Sincerely,

Your Stomach

Stress

I feel like too little butter stretched over too much bread.

The good news is that I can probably go study abroad this summer in Germany. That way I can go abroad, which is always nice, and knock out my last two Foreign Language classes in one summer school session.

If I did that I would have Maymester free to do a communication credit and the Summer II session free so that I could take Elementary Statistics at NCTC.

Graduation is so close but so far away.

But first this semester:

SAI Recital
SAI Initiation
Finish poster project in Counseling
Interview two counselors in the community and write a paper about it for Counseling
Keep up with studying German, reading for Psychology of Sexuality, Quantitative Methods, Psychology II, and homework for German and Quantitative Methods.
Keep losing weight.
Keep up with housework and chores.
Get Out The Vote on UNT campus.
Plan for Obamanite.
Work enough every week to feed myself.
Go to class.

I really don't understand how people keep their sanity if they work, go to school, and have kids. It completely blows my mind.

Things not to do in the lab

Answer the question "Mac or PC" with "I don't care," and then come back 10 seconds after I check you into a Mac and ask for a PC. Dumb.

Giggle as you try to smuggle a can of Dr. Pepper into the lab. I can see you asshole. I'm not retarded, but you obviously are.

Stare at my ass while I'm fixing your computer.

Stare at my boobs while I'm checking you into a computer.

Give me sass when I tell you to get out of the classroom after your class is over.

Act like you're special because you're a senior CommDesign major or Interior Design major. Or whatever major because you aren't special, period.

Get pissed when there is a line for the CommDesign plotters, insist that you be switched to the Interior Design plotters, throw a hissy fit to my boss when we don't let you break the rules, have him tell you that you can use then, AND THEN decide that, yes, they're shitty, that's why you get better ones, and try to get to the front of the line for the CommDesign plotter because you're "in a hurry."

Mock lab patrons to their face if you are an employee of the lab. You're supposed to do that behind their backs. Duh.

Print word documents not containing color pictures on the color printer, and then complain when your ink is dark purple.

Leave without telling us which computer you were using and then get pissed when we yell after you to tell us whether you were checking out or taking a break

Raise your hand when you need attention during a busy time, without vocalizing your need for assistance and you are out of our direct line of sight. Of course we won't see you.

Whispering while the printer behind the desk is churning out pages as loudly as it can. We can't here you back here.

Move to a different computer, without telling us, when your computer has an issue or *gasp* it's an iMac on the formerly PC side of the classroom.

Stay 15 minutes after closing, then after I politely ask you to get out, and that I have to be back at 7:30 AM to open, say "Well I have to be up earlier than that." and then leave in a huff without even thanking me for the extra time and my loss of sleep. Rude.

Having No Social Life is Taking It's Toll

I think I'm losing it. I talk to random people, and feel satisfied for a brief time.

I feel like a Sim, with a bar for "Social" floating over my head. I need one of these.

Inward Compulsion

I've been really striving to be a more honest, better person lately.

Little things:

Like not snagging a Mac remote from work (I want one for my iPod dock, turns out I wouldn't have even been able to use it with my version of iPod, so much the better) or a screen cloth

Waking up in time for work and getting there early

Actually working dilligently in the lab, even when my lab partner is goofing off

After realizing that I left work early accidentally, I went back, even though I was stressed out and just wanted to get the hell out of there

I was going to skip class the other day. I stayed up too late last night and almost fell back into my old ways. I was totally going to crash and sleep through class, and also skip SAI. I didn't. I went to class, and I'm glad that I did. It wasn't really a conscious decision to change my mind, I just got up, made a quick dinner and was on my way.

On the way back from class I also didn't stop into a restaurant and have a bite to eat, even though it was oh-so-tempting.

Tuesday Morning in the Lab

Tuesday morning I was minding my own business, checking people in and out of the lab, helping them print, dealing with the fact that Mac OSX is down on the "Mac" side of the room and trying to let biatchy comments from whiny Comm Design majors roll off my back, when out of the blue someone did something that made me question humanity.

Let me put this into context. I like people. Alot. This is why I took the job at the computer lab. I like people and I like computers. Yay! Right? Not so much. As much as I used to biatch at Irish Sean for hating people while he worked at Exxon I'm starting to feel his pain. I had been out of the service industry for the past few years. I remember how asinine the people were at Target, and for some strange crackballed reason I thought that since I was dealing with college students that they would be able to do simple things on the computer. Not so much.

This guy comes in and when asked the usual question "Mac or Pc?" his reply was "Uh, a regular computer I guess. I don't even know what a Mac is. I just want to print something." I have learned in the past few weeks that "I want to use a relgular computer" is a good cue for me to realize that they don't know what the hell they're doing with computers or just life in general.

He comes back after about 30 seconds with a question. "Are the flash drive hole thingies not working on these computers? I peeled the black tape over the hole in the front to stick my memory stick into. Why won't it work?"
Assuming that he means "USB port" instead of "Durr, durr, durr! I'm retarded!" I say, "Yes, the USB drives in the back of the computer work."
"Yeah. I peeled that black tape off."

I'm starting to get really annoyed at this point because there is a very good reason we put black electrical tape on the USB drives on the front of those computers: they don't work. We also have a nice little slip of paper conveniently saying "Thumb Drives can be inserted into the BACK of the computer." This cute little piece of paper is lovingly taped RIGHT OVER THE USB DRIVE IN QUESTION. People often ignore it. This is one of the many reasons that I hate them.

I say, "Yes, there is a sign posted saying that the 'hole' won't work. You'll have to use the back of the computer."
"I peeled the tape off."
"The tape is there for a reason. Use the back of the computer."
Blank stare.

At this point my lab monitor cohort, Dave, tries to help. "Look on the back of the computer," he says, "you can plug your thumb drive into that."
"What?"
"The back of the computer," the remarkably patient Dave said while indicating with his hands the "front" of the computer and the "back of the computer.
"What's that?"
"The back of the computer," Dave says beginning to be irritated. At this point people are staring at us.
"I don't know what you mean. You'll have to show me."
"Okay, let's go," says Dave.

They walk over to the computer. Dave points at the back of the computer and only receives a blank stare in return. Dave shows him where to put his thumb drive.

Dave returns, supressing a giggle, he says, "I still don't think he knows what the hell just happened." Usually Dave is pretty short with the kids that get up to the dumbassery in the lab, but I think this level of stupidity just knocked him off-guard.Or maybe it was pity that allowed him to show such kindness. I have no idea.

All I know is that I was shaking with supressed laughter at this point. It hurt to hold it in and tight little squealing giggles were escaping.

I'm pretty sure I'll never recover.

List of Things That Amuse Me (That Probably Shouldn't)

1.) This Video
It's video of a turtle set over audio from a guy bitching about his life in Michigan and fat people.
My friend made it while he was high. Need I say more.

2.)Sitting up until ungodly hours in Bruce Lobby.
At about 3 AM the conversations take a turn for the fucked-up. They tend to be intelligent, but seriously silly at the same time. For example: we postulated that our friend Scott was indestructible and immortal. We realized that the absolute power of his position would corrupt him, and he would have to be punished. Since he was indestructible and immortal the only real answer was to shoot him into the center of the sun. At about 4:00AM we decided that since Scott was indestructible, so too must his semen be indestructible as well. So every time the guy ejaculated many, many women in a radius around him would become pregnant with his immortal and indestructable children. They would eventually form a human chain to the sun and rescue their biological father. The End.

3.) The formatting on the above text.
Hilarious, right?

4.) I "collect" woman jokes and dead baby jokes.

5.) I think it is funny that 4chan has spread to my hometown.
I also hate the anchor that begins that video, because he's a tool. I think the Pool's Closed meme is pretty funny. Also, the theme for this newscast made me giggle.

McCain Pics Palin as VP and Why This Choice is Idiotic

1.) She has been governor of Alaska, and before that mayor of a tiny town.
McCain just killed his "experience" card.

2.) She is a woman that opposes women's rights. Equal pay for equal work? Nope. Non-abstinence sex education? Nope. A woman's right to choose? Nope.
Any Hillary supporters McCain hoped to draw should be horrified and insulted that they are asked to vote for this woman.

3.) She is mired in ethics investigations, and is currently being investigated by the Alaskan Legislature.
Troopergate. Hysterical.

4.) Her husband works for BP and she doesn't acknowledge man-made climate change. She also opposed the addition of the Polar Bear to the Endangered Species Act.
Conflict of interest anyone? I'd be happy to finally have a VP that isn't entangled in Big Oil for a change.

5.) Her daughter, Bristol, is a 17 year-old pregnant mother.
Oops. Abstinence education really works, right? Right? *crickets*

Sarah Palin is the wrong person for the job. I have no idea what you were thinking John McCain.

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers on my Right, Here I am...

stuck in the middle with you*.

I hate it when two friends break up with each other.

When two people that were once considered a cohesive unit split apart. Most especially after it gets to the point that their names stick to each other, like iron and a magnet, and it's difficult to say one name without the other. Soon I will say their names together, attracted like positive and negative, for the last time, and it will be while giving someone the news that they, as a collective of two people, are over.

Right now I'm worried for both of them. Completely split. And for one reason or another they're both jokers and they're both clowns. I'm in the middle, worried that one or both of our relationships will be sacrificed, or shaved down* as a result.

Joker was an aquaintance before she dated Clown, and we only became close friends after they were a couple. Clown I became friends with as a result me becoming closer to Joker, but we would have become friends on our own. For awhile I was their go-to third wheel. Looking back, I don't know if I was just an unconcious wedge to keep them apart during those moments. To keep them from being intimate, fighting, alone and completely wrapped up in their relationship. Only, I think I just got wrapped up in their relationship with the both of them.

There is entirely too much "I" in this post. I know. I can't express my worry for both of them any more than saying "I'm worried for both of them, equally, and in different ways," because of this medium. I don't air my greviences toward other people online anymore, and I certainly don't air other people's.





*I could have made a Resovoir Dogs reference here, but I'm classier than that. Which is probably entirely negated by the fact that I added this asterisk. Shit. They both feel like they cut off their own ear. Van Gough references are classier than Terantino, right?

Why I Need a Stiff Drink, how I Always fall into Thorns, and how I Learned to Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the U-haul.

Ok. So I've been living in my friend's apartment while she's in Paris on the condition that I move her out before August 1st, since she'll still be abroad then. Fair enough, not a big deal at all.

I was under the impression that her dad was getting a moving truck for a few days so that I could load up everything and move it to the storage shed for them.

Since it would be several days, and since nobody in town was off at 10:00 this morning to give me a ride when I needed to go to U-haul, I decided to get up earlyish (early for me, anyway) and walk to the store. It's about a mile and a half, no biggie, right? I live on Teasley, and the U-haul store is on Ft. Worth. I would just walk up beside the access road to Ft. Worth and cut under the overpass and I'd be right there. I totally forgot that U-haul was halfway between Teasley and Ft. Worth Drive. I totally forgot about the train tracks that go under I-35.

I had to walk down the embankment and cross the train tracks and the right-of-way not once, but twice, because I am a dumbass. The second time the embankment was covered in thorny bracken. In some places you couldn't even see over the top, the thorns had grown so thick they made a hedge of pointy pain and vines.

I finally saw a path, with a complete clearing and I got about halfway up before I noticed that there was a tent. Not only one tent, but several tents made from bits of tarp and cardboard. I had found a homeless village by the railroad tracks. Maybe if I were Jack Kerouac I would have been more thrilled. However, I am not, nor have I ever been a beat poet and roustabout, so I turned around like any sensible girl would and tried to find a different way.

I found a somewhat promising path, and figured that with a few stomps here and there I'd come through relatively unscathed. Of course I tripped mid-stomp and ended up completely tangled up in thorns. I was about 20 yards away from hobo-ville so I was too afraid to even cry or curse loudly. (I wanted to do both!) I carefully picked myself up and got over the top without further incident, and behold! U-haul!

I went inside at exactly 9:55 AM, covered in dirt, scratches, leaves and burrs, probably looking homeless myself, and went to get my U-haul truck for the week. "Ok, have it back by 5:00 today," the helpful and oh-so-happy to see me clerk told me.

Crap.

So I called the only two friends available today, and we moved my friend's dresser, entertainment center, sectional couch, two recliners, bed, mattress, and dining room chairs to the storage shed. Tetris was involved.

It's 6:42 now and I still haven't had anything to eat.

Fuck adventures. I need a stiff drink. I'm thinking Colt 45, or maybe Boonesfarm.

It's a small, small world

I got to talking to a buddy of mine (who is dating a good friend of mine, that's how we met) who is a metalsmith and into Rennaissance Re-enacting and those martial arts, and it turns out that he's into Civil War re-enacting. Since the re-enacting thing is a pretty small world, he knows my dad by association. Weird, huh?

I really wish that I could somehow muster in and do all the cool stuff that my buddy and my dad get to do, but alas, my father's outfit is very historical (which is something to be proud of) and I would have to be able to pass muster as a male. Two problems with that: 1) I am female and I look very female 2) I grew up around these guys, my dad was their captain for crying out loud, even if I did look somewhat masculine they know who I am.

I would like to do the "living history" stuff, but since I'm female I would get to sit on the porch in a chemise, pantalettes, corset, crinoline and dress, wearing gloves and a big hat, while delicately fanning myself. Uh, no. Not fun.

NaBloPoMo and Weight Loss

That's right, in August I will be NaBloPoMo ing. I also joined BlogHer, but I dunno how that's supposed to work, whatever.

Basically I want strangers to read my blog, but not people I know, because I like to write about them, somewhat abstractly. I don't really write about people I know aaaaall that much. Sometimes I mention something about boyfriend or an acquaintance, but other than that, nope. I already did that "blog drama" shiz before and I'm not going there again. It's immature, and if you want to make amends, well, sorry, you put that shit out there on the internet like a bitch, and it's pretty much out there in some form or another, forever.

I'm about to get back onto the diet bandwagon hardcore style. I've been losing weight, but I haven't been as... strict as I should be. Thank you boyfriend and his hating-eating-in-late-at-night deal, but whatever, it's my fault too. I just bought a bunch of groceries and I have some vague plans on making soup. I have pork and beef, because I'm f*cking tired of f*cking chicken. I have one breast left over, and faced with the prospect of actually throwing it into the frying pan, I proceeded to toss it into the freezer.

I am also going to Wally World after work today and picking up some 10 lb weights and an exercise ball, maybe a Pilates DVD or something. I dunno. I want to be toned, and also speed up my weight loss. Free weights is something I can do, and crunches on a ball. Pilates is fun. I know if I say to myself "I will run in that nice park a block away from where you live." I will just make excuses and not do it. (Some of them are valid such as: "I don't want to be raped." and "It's really f*cking hot." Others? Not so much. "I hate running." and "I'd rather just read Fark." stand out amongst that crowd.)

Screen names

I'm going to rant now about the practice of moms choosing screennames based on their kid's name and their motherhood.

I'm glad that you're so happy being a mother. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, however, making motherhood the whole sum of your identity bothers me. Maybe it's a late-in-life mother thing. All those 40 year olds that waited to have kids until it was almost too late, or the ones that changed their mind when they were in their late 30's and decided they wanted to have a child after all.

Now, it may sound hypocritical for me to chastise someone else for their choice in how they want to live their lives and shape their identity. I just think it's harmful on the personal level as well as for the family dynamic. Investing so much of yourself into your child that you sacrifice everything, including your self-identity is almost as harmful as investing nothing. Look at it this way: if you give up on your personal needs you start to project them on your progeny in order to make up for that sacrifice. In comes the Vicarious Mothers.

Living vicariously through your offspring is probably a combination of a mixture of factors, including boredom and personal frustration. "I had to give up being a ____ so I could have this life and be a good mother, so you're going to do what I could never do." That's hardly a healthy way to raise a kid.

So what's next Alismom, Martasmom and Clintonsmom? Are you going to name yourselves Wifeoffred and Wifeofmatthew online now? And how come we don't see men naming themselves Franksdad and Alisdad? Why just the women? It disturbs me that we can so easily fall back into that kind of thinking in this day and age.

*See also: your baby as profile picture, engagement ring as facebook profile picture

I fixed it...

The network at home I mean. I am awesome. At googling I mean.

I can't understand how my family fails at google. How about googling "linksys wireless network configure" and going from there? But nooooo... They wait for me to do it. It's nice to be wanted, but at this point I wish they would teach themselves how to fish.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July Extravagansa Celebration for the Greatest, Best Nation, God Has Created on the Face of This Earth.

Cake makes me want to get married

I've been obsessing about Deb's saga over at SmittenKitchen.com

She is baking a wedding cake for a friend. The top two tiers are a buttermilk yellow cake with mango curd between the layers (three cakes for each tier!) and the bottom layer is a decadent chocolate/cinnamon/coffee cake with brandied ganache between the layers, all covered by a beautiful white (hopefully Swiss buttercream, if she can get over her "issues" with it) icing and decorated with flowers.

The pictures are beautiful, and I'm completely jealous of all the guests going to that wedding. Deb is making her friend a handsome gift.

All this makes me want to get married, which is terrible. I made the mistake of picking up Martha Stewart's Wedding Cakes book one time at Barnes and Noble, and I watch Ace of Cakes regularly on Food Network. All of that, and this blogger saga makes me want to get married, not because I really love the guy I'm with (which I do) not because I'm ready to grow up and start a family (which I'm not) and not because I'm committed to being a part of a marital relationship (which I am certainly not), but merely for the amazing, beautiful and decadent cake that will be at my wedding reception. Sorry mom.

Diamonds are forever. So is scoliosis.

Recently one of my Fraternity sisters got engaged. The very next day she posted the requisite picture of the engagement ring.

Also, the box that it came in had a light in the top so that you can see the shiny shiny diamond inside. Nice touch. Because I'm sure if he hadn't included that light she'd have said no. He'd have gone down on one knee and opened the box, and she'd look down and say "It's night time. I can't see the shiny. My answer is no."

Really though, they're a sweet couple and I wish them the best. They've been together for awhile and they're moving on with their lives together. Awesome.

This whole thing (in addition to this article) just sort of reminds my of my own stance on diamonds.
No. I've never seen Blood Diamond. I intend to eventually. I've felt this way since my World History teacher sophomore year of high school talked about why she doesn't wear her diamond ring.

Many of them are "blood diamonds" and almost all of them are mined by children. Think about that every time you look at your rock. Children.

The cheapest way to get diamonds out of the earth is strip-mining which is terrible for the environment. The processing requires the use of resources (especially water) that would be better served growing crops, or pretty much anything else.

DeBeers is a cartel that set the demand and artificially set the prices. They control all the mines and they have warehouses full of diamonds that they carefully monitor. Carbon is the most common element, so it stands to reason that diamonds are extremely common. They're extremely overpriced rocks.

In addition to all this, it is now possible to grow diamonds in a lab. Perfect diamonds, in any color you want. Of course DeBeers is on top of that because of course lab-grown diamonds mean that you appreciate and love that woman less because your feeling is as artificial as they are. Yeah.

So let me say this: if you love me, if you really, really love me, then you'll either buy me a lab-grown diamond or use the diamond earring my grandmother left me and set it into a ring. Either way, it would be more meaningful to me.