This post may be a little awkward to write without making it seem like I am somehow disconnected with my extended family, but that is absolutely not the attitude I want to put out; I would like to, however, focus on the neighborly love we are so lucky to have.
I have only very briefly talked about my grandmother passing last Spring, and I still don't have all of the words I need to do so, but it is still devastating. She is the first person who I have actually known who has died, and it's been tough to deal with because it has made me rethink a lot of spiritual convictions I have held for a long time. Somehow I don't think I knew exactly how love feels until now that she's gone, but I'm happy she was, in death, able to teach me another lesson. I realized that I believe in heaven, because I just have to. She can't be gone.
But anyways, this thanksgiving was the first we have spent without her at least since we moved to Cleveland, and I don't really remember a thanksgiving before then. We ended up not even getting together with any of our extended family from that side, and there's no explanation as to why not, but it just didn't happen.
All of these things culminated into an awkward excitement about going home and seeing my family and eating food and of totally dreading a thanksgiving dinner without my grandma.
That, and I've been kind of tearful lately at very random things (for example, a Sarah Mclachlan dog commercial could probably take me down right now) so I was also dreading that I would almost definitely cry at dinner. Spoilers: I didn't, but I almost did.
So we ate dinner together and it was delicious and of course lovely to have the family back together for the first time since labor day, but it was after dinner that the magic happened. We (I) invited our dear old friends and neighbors over for dessert. After having spent the day in a weird familial isolation, the Strohs and Pirnats and Jaime walking in was nothing short of a family reunion.
They walked in the door and we knew we weren't alone. The kids hung out like cousins and the parents told stories like they were siblings. I don't really even know what to say other than that having family is nice, and I'm so thankful to have the family that I have, blood related and not. Miracle of human consciousness and everything.
Also, I have been writing this blog for two years now! If you're still reading this, I thank you.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
On addiction
I've had a long-standing addiction to music and that goes without saying. Still I said it. Redundancy. But other addictions, unhealthy addictions, are new to me. For example, I started smoking kind of as a regular part of my drunken routine recently. It would be better if I could unpair drinking from smoking so that I could ONLY smoke but that's not as easy as it seems it could be. I'm not sure which is a less expensive habit. Or addictive. I could probably just drink for free on the weekends at parties and not smoke but I think that's something only for the socially able. Like, I'm awkward, so I drink before parties so that I hate them less and I smoke at parties because you automatically make friends at parties when you're part of the smoking crowd. And you make friends with the cool people. That, and the white trash.
I think that addiction is something I might want to conquer in my novel for NaNoWriMo. Just a characters personal struggle with it... obviously because I'm having a personal struggle with it. I could write really honestly about the mental hardships of moving away for college, and of course also about the awesome things about it. In some ways it's similar to high school because the bad parts are bad and stressful and hard but the good parts are so good. And in a lot of ways it's better than high school but I think it's the same. I feel better, as a whole, because I'm out there trying. I'm at least doing something. But it feels the same because that's my disposition. That's how I feel, as a person, always.
So I just keep telling myself "It's not a problem until you're thirty."
And it's kind of true, mostly not though. I mean... it's a problem no matter what. It's always detrimental to my health. But if it's what is making me feel free and alive then that's what I am supposed to be doing. I honestly and truly believe that experiencing human consciousness as fully as possible is the way life is supposed to be lived, so that's the goal. And I'm going to be smoking and drinking and traveling and studying and loving and living until I find that I need to experience human consciousness in a different way.
I like the idea that life is lived in phases. I like the idea that my grandma got the chance to read a lot of books before she died. It's sad that she lived alone, although she wanted to, but I'm glad that she got time to know herself before she left herself. Maybe that's sad. I don't think I want that, but I don't think I'll ever want a new phase of my life. I think it will happen, and only then will I realize it's wonderful. My whole life is wonderful.
I can't tell if this in insightful or just drunk because I'm on my 3rd large cup of wine. In some ways I can't wait until I'm thirty to have glasses of wine, instead of large cups of wine, but then I will also have the problems I'm making now. I mean, I don't think I'm ever going to be an alcoholic (but then again I don't think anyone ever sees themselves growing up and becoming an alcoholic). Still, it would never be me. I'm too introverted and existentialist for that shit. But I could see myself becoming a writer holed up in an apartment in a big city in Europe smoking a lot. And lung cancer would be terrible, obviously, and it's ironic that I smoke at all because I hate when I get so sick that I can barely breathe and I KNOW how that feels. And my dad smokes, which I always hated. I still do, because he's way past thirty, but I understand it now. Or rather, I've always understood it but now I understand it even better.
So addiction is complicated, but that's how everything is. Complicated. Life is complicated. Life is a game of chance; so is smoking.
Other thought: smoking is both the most personal and most social thing I know. Everyone who smokes bonds over it but it means something else to each individual who is smoking. Each person has their own thoughts about the dirty cigarette, and the beautiful smoke itself. I don't think there's anyone out there who is able to smoke and just believe that it's safe, or anyone I know anyways. Everyone can think of someone who hates them for their nasty habit. And everyone who can think of someone who knows that their nasty habit doesn't matter at all; but somehow this person's opinion matters less. I'll never know why I view the negative opinion with so much more strength than I view the neutral or positive or agreeable one.
God I can't wait to snowboard this Winter. I haven't felt like that in forever.
I think that addiction is something I might want to conquer in my novel for NaNoWriMo. Just a characters personal struggle with it... obviously because I'm having a personal struggle with it. I could write really honestly about the mental hardships of moving away for college, and of course also about the awesome things about it. In some ways it's similar to high school because the bad parts are bad and stressful and hard but the good parts are so good. And in a lot of ways it's better than high school but I think it's the same. I feel better, as a whole, because I'm out there trying. I'm at least doing something. But it feels the same because that's my disposition. That's how I feel, as a person, always.
So I just keep telling myself "It's not a problem until you're thirty."
And it's kind of true, mostly not though. I mean... it's a problem no matter what. It's always detrimental to my health. But if it's what is making me feel free and alive then that's what I am supposed to be doing. I honestly and truly believe that experiencing human consciousness as fully as possible is the way life is supposed to be lived, so that's the goal. And I'm going to be smoking and drinking and traveling and studying and loving and living until I find that I need to experience human consciousness in a different way.
I like the idea that life is lived in phases. I like the idea that my grandma got the chance to read a lot of books before she died. It's sad that she lived alone, although she wanted to, but I'm glad that she got time to know herself before she left herself. Maybe that's sad. I don't think I want that, but I don't think I'll ever want a new phase of my life. I think it will happen, and only then will I realize it's wonderful. My whole life is wonderful.
I can't tell if this in insightful or just drunk because I'm on my 3rd large cup of wine. In some ways I can't wait until I'm thirty to have glasses of wine, instead of large cups of wine, but then I will also have the problems I'm making now. I mean, I don't think I'm ever going to be an alcoholic (but then again I don't think anyone ever sees themselves growing up and becoming an alcoholic). Still, it would never be me. I'm too introverted and existentialist for that shit. But I could see myself becoming a writer holed up in an apartment in a big city in Europe smoking a lot. And lung cancer would be terrible, obviously, and it's ironic that I smoke at all because I hate when I get so sick that I can barely breathe and I KNOW how that feels. And my dad smokes, which I always hated. I still do, because he's way past thirty, but I understand it now. Or rather, I've always understood it but now I understand it even better.
So addiction is complicated, but that's how everything is. Complicated. Life is complicated. Life is a game of chance; so is smoking.
Other thought: smoking is both the most personal and most social thing I know. Everyone who smokes bonds over it but it means something else to each individual who is smoking. Each person has their own thoughts about the dirty cigarette, and the beautiful smoke itself. I don't think there's anyone out there who is able to smoke and just believe that it's safe, or anyone I know anyways. Everyone can think of someone who hates them for their nasty habit. And everyone who can think of someone who knows that their nasty habit doesn't matter at all; but somehow this person's opinion matters less. I'll never know why I view the negative opinion with so much more strength than I view the neutral or positive or agreeable one.
God I can't wait to snowboard this Winter. I haven't felt like that in forever.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
reasons
Reason #1 I love this University
Going to a huge school is annoying mostly only in trivial things. Like, at any given time in a day you can end up waiting 10 minutes in line for food. And walking around pre-coffee on your way to a morning class and theres so many people everywhere, you can't help but feel like an ant in a colony. Nevertheless, the advantages of being somewhere where so many people contribute is that diversity is unavoidable in the best possible way. I was thinking that I haven't started learning a new language in awhile so maybe I should schedule an 1101 class next semester in something random with a different alphabet and BAM Ohio State offers 32 languages. THIRTY TWO. Like, fun right? So fun! Most languages don't offer 1101 classes second semester though, so instead I'll probably have to wait until first semester next year, but I'm thinking about taking Russian or Hindi. Maybe Chinese? I really don't care what it is so long as it is useful and has a cool alphabet.
Reason #1 I love Ohio
Weather.
Reason #1 I hate Ohio
Weather.
Fall in Ohio is so beautiful on the good days. I'm sitting outside right now and the trees and grass and brick buildings and sun and everything is a painting. I could cry*. And the wind is so perfect and it's warm. Nothing like a sunny day to put me in a perfect mood. Then again I the sentence I say the most in the winter is, no doubt about it, I fucking hate Ohio. But like.. snow man. Snow is tough to deal with sometimes.
Also: announcements!
I am planning on doing NaNoWriMo this year. I'm not really sure what to write about but I have a feeling it will end up being at least a little bit autobiographical. I've also always had this weird idea that authors should include a soundtrack to go with their books so I will definitely be sure to include that.
And I got that OSU blogging gig I applied for so I'm so excited to start writing for that! In case you were wondering. Not that I have readers of this.
*I've been feeling like crying at things that aren't sad in college a lot. I don't know why, maybe this is adulthood. I feel like crying that I'm an adult now too.
Going to a huge school is annoying mostly only in trivial things. Like, at any given time in a day you can end up waiting 10 minutes in line for food. And walking around pre-coffee on your way to a morning class and theres so many people everywhere, you can't help but feel like an ant in a colony. Nevertheless, the advantages of being somewhere where so many people contribute is that diversity is unavoidable in the best possible way. I was thinking that I haven't started learning a new language in awhile so maybe I should schedule an 1101 class next semester in something random with a different alphabet and BAM Ohio State offers 32 languages. THIRTY TWO. Like, fun right? So fun! Most languages don't offer 1101 classes second semester though, so instead I'll probably have to wait until first semester next year, but I'm thinking about taking Russian or Hindi. Maybe Chinese? I really don't care what it is so long as it is useful and has a cool alphabet.
Reason #1 I love Ohio
Weather.
Reason #1 I hate Ohio
Weather.
Fall in Ohio is so beautiful on the good days. I'm sitting outside right now and the trees and grass and brick buildings and sun and everything is a painting. I could cry*. And the wind is so perfect and it's warm. Nothing like a sunny day to put me in a perfect mood. Then again I the sentence I say the most in the winter is, no doubt about it, I fucking hate Ohio. But like.. snow man. Snow is tough to deal with sometimes.
Also: announcements!
I am planning on doing NaNoWriMo this year. I'm not really sure what to write about but I have a feeling it will end up being at least a little bit autobiographical. I've also always had this weird idea that authors should include a soundtrack to go with their books so I will definitely be sure to include that.
And I got that OSU blogging gig I applied for so I'm so excited to start writing for that! In case you were wondering. Not that I have readers of this.
*I've been feeling like crying at things that aren't sad in college a lot. I don't know why, maybe this is adulthood. I feel like crying that I'm an adult now too.
Monday, September 24, 2012
shoes and laundry.
I have so many different things to talk about today.
1. College
2. Shoe choice at college
3. Laundry
It's really not that many things.
College has lots of facets to it. I will start by saying that I don't think I would have ended up here were it not for the fact that OSU has an Arabic major. I think I would've liked a smaller community of people in a larger city. I do like Columbus a lot and although I have explored a little, I need to do more. There are definitely things I miss about Cleveland, for example, the privacy of our nature. This is a weird thing to say, but I miss being secluded in beauty. There's a pretty garden I should go visit here, but it's not the same as like, the waterfalls in almost-Berea land and the Bradley Woods nature park past center ridge, and the edge of this country that is all of the Lake Erie beaches. Privacy, in all ways, is probably what I miss most about home aside from my family, my cats, home-cooked meals, my shower, my bed (all of which I miss a lot, in that order).
But of course there are the good things, which are my Arabic class and my Social Psychology class. It feels great to be taking Arabic again, I really do love it and never find my class to be a chore. Social psychology I like because of the format mostly. This is another weird thing to say but I kind of do love just sitting there and being lectured to and taking notes. That's what I liked about history freshman and sophomore years of high school. I never studied hard enough to get A's in those classes but I love lectures when they're interesting. And in some ways I love note-taking? I realize it's probably a sign of low intelligence to enjoy such mundane tasks. Don't care.
I also sort of like the social life here. I keep telling myself to just be brave and try to make friends and be social and admit to being a freshman who is sort of lost and fears loneliness. Knowing what you're socially up against and admitting your handicaps is the first step to making new friends. Big house parties aren't that fun because I don't know anyone, so I try to meet people at those parties and make friends. It works about half the time.
Also something college has taught me: be straightforward. Simplify the language you use. Say what you want, when you ask questions, ask exactly what you want to know. Life just becomes easier when you stop avoiding what you want to say for fear of embarrassment. Stop being embarrassed. Say what you want.
The thing I don't like about college, which Marissa pointed out today, is the blatant hatred and ignorance present on campus. This comes with any diverse group of people, having varying beliefs about different subjects. And while the racism here is something I'm a bit more accustomed to (though still not happy about or comfortable with), prejudice against gay people is something I don't think I have dealt with as much, and I have noticed it here sometimes from individuals.
I wrongly (and sometimes rightly) judge people based on shoe choice. This is something I have always done, but there wasn't as much opportunity for it in Westlake because at Westlake High School, the fashion is fairly homogenous as are the people, which is not meant to be a slam on my community. It's just kind of true. There is always bound to be more variation in the fashion choices when the community is people from all sorts of different geographical and socioeconomic backgrounds than a place where everyone is from the same geographical background, and most people are from the same socioeconomic background. Right?
So anyways. Shoes. Obviously most people don't consider their shoe choice to be a personal choice reflecting who they are on the inside, and lots of people don't think about fashion at all, but I still think something is reflected in shoe choice. For boys, there are usually three schools of fashion: well-dressed (this could be trendy, classic, or more casual original style. Either way they look good.), athletic (it is such a cop-out for boys to just wear athletic shorts and sweatshirts every day. Although, if you have the calves for it...), and awkward (examples: white tennis shoes, ever, nice shirt with athletic shoes, different styles of clothing all in the same outfit, etc.) The well-dressed man will have shoes that match the rest of his outfit. From the same type of style, degree of casualness, and/or color as the rest of his outfit. The jock will probably have some tennis shoes or sandals with some mid-calf socks. I get it- fashion is hard sometimes. That's kind of what I see when I see a boy in this outfit. Unless he's sweaty, in which case congrats! Your outfit is activity-appropriate. And the awkward boy often does not match the degree of casualness of his shirt and pants with his shoes. That's usually where the awkwardness comes from. White tennis shoes are pretty much never okay. I'm trying to think of a situation when they're okay, and no, they're pretty much not okay.
Girl shoes are usually a little easier. Of course there are the awkward shoes that don't match the outfit, but then after that everything other type of shoe can really help classify the woman's mood at the moment. Heels? Don't fuck with her; she's important today AND she's angry because her feet hurt. Flats? She's probably looking cute even though it's not required at the moment. Congrats! You found someone who is probably happy. Rainboots? Ask yourself: is it/was it recently raining? If it is, she is trying to stay warm. Wet shoes are the worst. If it isn't? Maybe she's dumb! Maybe there's something she likes about her rainboots.
Disclaimer: Those last two paragraphs are fully speculative. That's what I see. You probably don't see the same thing, but I'm not the only person who looks at you and makes inferences about who you are. So look fly, because you'll feel good about it.
Laundry: I love the laundry room in Drackett. I wish I could reserve it as a study room. It's warm in there, and the chairs are nice, and I like the soft rumble of the washers and dryers. This is why: it is impossible to study in full silence. There is always a noise-- the soft scratch of your pencil on the paper, the sound of your laptops fan, the click of your fingers on the keyboard, the flipping of pages. And those are caused by solo-studying, so multiply that by 5-40 if you're in ANY study room on campus. So, while the laundry rooms are kind of noisy, it's a constant noise that is loud enough to drown out anything else, and constant enough to study with. Right? RIGHT? Yes. Right.
I have more things to write about so I'll probably be back within a week!
1. College
2. Shoe choice at college
3. Laundry
It's really not that many things.
College has lots of facets to it. I will start by saying that I don't think I would have ended up here were it not for the fact that OSU has an Arabic major. I think I would've liked a smaller community of people in a larger city. I do like Columbus a lot and although I have explored a little, I need to do more. There are definitely things I miss about Cleveland, for example, the privacy of our nature. This is a weird thing to say, but I miss being secluded in beauty. There's a pretty garden I should go visit here, but it's not the same as like, the waterfalls in almost-Berea land and the Bradley Woods nature park past center ridge, and the edge of this country that is all of the Lake Erie beaches. Privacy, in all ways, is probably what I miss most about home aside from my family, my cats, home-cooked meals, my shower, my bed (all of which I miss a lot, in that order).
But of course there are the good things, which are my Arabic class and my Social Psychology class. It feels great to be taking Arabic again, I really do love it and never find my class to be a chore. Social psychology I like because of the format mostly. This is another weird thing to say but I kind of do love just sitting there and being lectured to and taking notes. That's what I liked about history freshman and sophomore years of high school. I never studied hard enough to get A's in those classes but I love lectures when they're interesting. And in some ways I love note-taking? I realize it's probably a sign of low intelligence to enjoy such mundane tasks. Don't care.
I also sort of like the social life here. I keep telling myself to just be brave and try to make friends and be social and admit to being a freshman who is sort of lost and fears loneliness. Knowing what you're socially up against and admitting your handicaps is the first step to making new friends. Big house parties aren't that fun because I don't know anyone, so I try to meet people at those parties and make friends. It works about half the time.
Also something college has taught me: be straightforward. Simplify the language you use. Say what you want, when you ask questions, ask exactly what you want to know. Life just becomes easier when you stop avoiding what you want to say for fear of embarrassment. Stop being embarrassed. Say what you want.
The thing I don't like about college, which Marissa pointed out today, is the blatant hatred and ignorance present on campus. This comes with any diverse group of people, having varying beliefs about different subjects. And while the racism here is something I'm a bit more accustomed to (though still not happy about or comfortable with), prejudice against gay people is something I don't think I have dealt with as much, and I have noticed it here sometimes from individuals.
I wrongly (and sometimes rightly) judge people based on shoe choice. This is something I have always done, but there wasn't as much opportunity for it in Westlake because at Westlake High School, the fashion is fairly homogenous as are the people, which is not meant to be a slam on my community. It's just kind of true. There is always bound to be more variation in the fashion choices when the community is people from all sorts of different geographical and socioeconomic backgrounds than a place where everyone is from the same geographical background, and most people are from the same socioeconomic background. Right?
So anyways. Shoes. Obviously most people don't consider their shoe choice to be a personal choice reflecting who they are on the inside, and lots of people don't think about fashion at all, but I still think something is reflected in shoe choice. For boys, there are usually three schools of fashion: well-dressed (this could be trendy, classic, or more casual original style. Either way they look good.), athletic (it is such a cop-out for boys to just wear athletic shorts and sweatshirts every day. Although, if you have the calves for it...), and awkward (examples: white tennis shoes, ever, nice shirt with athletic shoes, different styles of clothing all in the same outfit, etc.) The well-dressed man will have shoes that match the rest of his outfit. From the same type of style, degree of casualness, and/or color as the rest of his outfit. The jock will probably have some tennis shoes or sandals with some mid-calf socks. I get it- fashion is hard sometimes. That's kind of what I see when I see a boy in this outfit. Unless he's sweaty, in which case congrats! Your outfit is activity-appropriate. And the awkward boy often does not match the degree of casualness of his shirt and pants with his shoes. That's usually where the awkwardness comes from. White tennis shoes are pretty much never okay. I'm trying to think of a situation when they're okay, and no, they're pretty much not okay.
Girl shoes are usually a little easier. Of course there are the awkward shoes that don't match the outfit, but then after that everything other type of shoe can really help classify the woman's mood at the moment. Heels? Don't fuck with her; she's important today AND she's angry because her feet hurt. Flats? She's probably looking cute even though it's not required at the moment. Congrats! You found someone who is probably happy. Rainboots? Ask yourself: is it/was it recently raining? If it is, she is trying to stay warm. Wet shoes are the worst. If it isn't? Maybe she's dumb! Maybe there's something she likes about her rainboots.
Disclaimer: Those last two paragraphs are fully speculative. That's what I see. You probably don't see the same thing, but I'm not the only person who looks at you and makes inferences about who you are. So look fly, because you'll feel good about it.
Laundry: I love the laundry room in Drackett. I wish I could reserve it as a study room. It's warm in there, and the chairs are nice, and I like the soft rumble of the washers and dryers. This is why: it is impossible to study in full silence. There is always a noise-- the soft scratch of your pencil on the paper, the sound of your laptops fan, the click of your fingers on the keyboard, the flipping of pages. And those are caused by solo-studying, so multiply that by 5-40 if you're in ANY study room on campus. So, while the laundry rooms are kind of noisy, it's a constant noise that is loud enough to drown out anything else, and constant enough to study with. Right? RIGHT? Yes. Right.
I have more things to write about so I'll probably be back within a week!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Pictures of myself that I like
1. Pictures of me laughing.
These typically come in two variations, with and without makeup. I like the ones with makeup because usually they make me look pretty AND are candid and genuine. I like the ones without makeup because they make me look SUPER genuine, and often are pretty of my despite my lack of makeup. Pictures that are pretty of me when I haven't spent any time on my appearance always boost my self esteem a little bit.
2. Pictures of me outdoors
I just like pictures taken outside better than pictures taken inside in general. But I feel like pictures the pictures taken of me surrounded by the beauty of this planet are always of me smiling and happy. This is not always the case of inside pictures.
3. Pictures of me with my mouth closed (?)
I guess? I mean I just kind of noticed this... if my mouth isn't open because I'm laughing, and the picture is deliberate, I usually like closed-mouth ones better. I have crooked teeth but not crooked enough that I feel self conscious about it... although it WOULD appear that way. Maybe I am self conscious about it after all.
4. Pictures of me with my friends
If you would compare pictures of me taken smiling by myself and pictures taken smiling with friends I will definitely appear way more a) human and b) happy in the latter.
5. Pictures of me doing weird shit
Snowboarding, backwalkovers on the beach, swordfighting on a trampoline, standing on top of big weird rocks, smashing dry wall, etc.
6. Pictures of me with alternatively colored hair
I know that having blue/purple/scarlet/green hair is NOT attractive in a lady. Or anybody. But I LIKE it. So I'm gonna keep doing it. Ask me why. Do it. Ask me. Because fuck you, that's why. I have absolutely no romantic prospects so I'm gonna dress and style my hair as batshit as I can because I don't give a single FUCK what you think. That's why.
This post should probably be retitled to say Pictures of myself that I like and also the reason Hayley doesn't have a boyfriend and will never get one!
These typically come in two variations, with and without makeup. I like the ones with makeup because usually they make me look pretty AND are candid and genuine. I like the ones without makeup because they make me look SUPER genuine, and often are pretty of my despite my lack of makeup. Pictures that are pretty of me when I haven't spent any time on my appearance always boost my self esteem a little bit.
2. Pictures of me outdoors
I just like pictures taken outside better than pictures taken inside in general. But I feel like pictures the pictures taken of me surrounded by the beauty of this planet are always of me smiling and happy. This is not always the case of inside pictures.
3. Pictures of me with my mouth closed (?)
I guess? I mean I just kind of noticed this... if my mouth isn't open because I'm laughing, and the picture is deliberate, I usually like closed-mouth ones better. I have crooked teeth but not crooked enough that I feel self conscious about it... although it WOULD appear that way. Maybe I am self conscious about it after all.
4. Pictures of me with my friends
If you would compare pictures of me taken smiling by myself and pictures taken smiling with friends I will definitely appear way more a) human and b) happy in the latter.
5. Pictures of me doing weird shit
Snowboarding, backwalkovers on the beach, swordfighting on a trampoline, standing on top of big weird rocks, smashing dry wall, etc.
6. Pictures of me with alternatively colored hair
I know that having blue/purple/scarlet/green hair is NOT attractive in a lady. Or anybody. But I LIKE it. So I'm gonna keep doing it. Ask me why. Do it. Ask me. Because fuck you, that's why. I have absolutely no romantic prospects so I'm gonna dress and style my hair as batshit as I can because I don't give a single FUCK what you think. That's why.
This post should probably be retitled to say Pictures of myself that I like and also the reason Hayley doesn't have a boyfriend and will never get one!
Me writing about respect is probably ironic!
I am definitely not one of those people who refrains from gossip entirely, or even at all. I will basically always partake because most of the time, it's not going to hurt anyone and I only tell people who are about as likely to pass it on as say, wallpaper. So, Laura. Or complete strangers. Or I just politely listen. Or I just tell people about the tragedies of my own life so that they can gossip about me because if I were to find out that people are wasting their lives talking about me well, I'd probably be flattered before I took any offense to it. I'm not telling you to go out and make shit up about me or to go out looking for dirt on me, but you probably won't find anything that's so embarrassing I would refrain from telling you myself.
But it is straight up despicable to talk about a person in a large group setting because
1. It's not private. You don't necessarily know these people well enough to trust them to treat the information with a grain of salt.
2. A lot of those people probably don't know who you're talking about very well, which then leads to them making snap judgments about him. It keeps the two people from getting to know each other because someone thinks they know something negative and maybe even untrue about the other person.
3. When it's in a group setting, like perhaps, a floor dinner of a dormitory, and the person you're talking about has to be in the group for say, almost an entire year, you are isolating him from everybody by saying such horrible things in front of everyone. Let the guy be part of the group, let him have friends.
4. He's keeping that information private because he wants it private.
5. This is more specific but the beginning of college is a very very stressful time and you just don't know how well the person you're talking about is handling it. Knowing people are talking about you behind your back does not do good things for your self esteem, and when such a large group is doing it, you're bound to figure it out.
6. It's so fucking disrespectful. Obviously.
7. By leading such a conversation, I guarantee that at least one person out of the group is going to wonder who else you talk about behind their backs. It doesn't reflect well on you.
There just aren't that many people in the world who are legitimately horrible enough to deserve being discussed and analyzed behind their backs. There are plenty of people I don't like but very few who I would ever allow a full conversation to go on about between a group of 6 or more tearing down their character. It's cruel.
But it is straight up despicable to talk about a person in a large group setting because
1. It's not private. You don't necessarily know these people well enough to trust them to treat the information with a grain of salt.
2. A lot of those people probably don't know who you're talking about very well, which then leads to them making snap judgments about him. It keeps the two people from getting to know each other because someone thinks they know something negative and maybe even untrue about the other person.
3. When it's in a group setting, like perhaps, a floor dinner of a dormitory, and the person you're talking about has to be in the group for say, almost an entire year, you are isolating him from everybody by saying such horrible things in front of everyone. Let the guy be part of the group, let him have friends.
4. He's keeping that information private because he wants it private.
5. This is more specific but the beginning of college is a very very stressful time and you just don't know how well the person you're talking about is handling it. Knowing people are talking about you behind your back does not do good things for your self esteem, and when such a large group is doing it, you're bound to figure it out.
6. It's so fucking disrespectful. Obviously.
7. By leading such a conversation, I guarantee that at least one person out of the group is going to wonder who else you talk about behind their backs. It doesn't reflect well on you.
There just aren't that many people in the world who are legitimately horrible enough to deserve being discussed and analyzed behind their backs. There are plenty of people I don't like but very few who I would ever allow a full conversation to go on about between a group of 6 or more tearing down their character. It's cruel.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Putting my feelings into words for the first time in awhile
Every night for the past two weeks I have gotten home from whatever shenanigans I was up to, usually around 11pm, turned on the lamp in my room and looked around. Just looked at the mounds of stuff I eventually need to put in a car and take with me to school. And I just stare at it, every night, wondering where to start. The clothes are going to be the most difficult but I can't really pack those yet because I still need to wear them for a few more days, and then there are the pillows and the jewelry and the books. The books. And I just get so intimidated by my own possessions that I crawl into my bed, which I have been thoroughly enjoying and will be sad to leave, and I begin my nightly Netflix binge and push my stuff and the thought of moving to the back of my mind.
Lately I've been watching Weeds.
But this silence towards all things college, so near but so not even here yet, is not only present in my room but also in conversations with friends not going to OSU. Fortunately enough, it's safe to say that the majority of my friends are coming to school with me, but there are still a couple left over who aren't, and boy have my conversations with them become limited in discussion topics.
With Sam, we just try not to talk about the fact that we've been best friends since we were 12 and that she's going to Chicago and I probably won't see her again until at least November. We talk about how we don't talk about it though. And we talk about her boyfriend, Elliot, who is really adorable.
With Conor we just talk about the past and leave the present and the future to be discussed when the present and the future are the past. We drive around and visit our old spots, Lakewood Park where our initials are in the cement and where the most beautiful Cleveland skyline can be seen, and Steve's Hotdogs which is tiny and a little bit scary but it's cheap and delicious, and we drive in the valley where it's dark and quiet. And we talk about the times we had but not the times we're having. It's okay.
I think that probably at this time in our lives, everyone is feeling at least a little overwhelmed by all of the stress that this monumental move is causing, and it's turning us all quiet, and it's normal. Quiet towards our clothes, and quiet towards our friends. Mourning the death of high school and high school relationships and home cooked meals and particularly cozy beds and big rooms we do not share and the comfort of living with cats.
For whatever reason I feel like if I am not in this state of emotional sloth towards dealing with my sadness of leaving friends and my physical sloth of actually moving my stuff, I will be in the absolute opposite end of the spectrum where every single one of my possessions would be boxed up in my living room right now and I would be sitting awake every night reading and rereading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks in anxious preparation. I can't picture myself at some kind of happy medium.
But the truth about Going Away to College is that I'm never going to stop being friends with Sam and Conor and I'm going to get my stuff together by Sunday and I'm going to get really smart and I'm going to read lots of good books and I'm going to smile at everyone and make lots of friends and I'm going to go to parties with all the cool kids and make lots of good choices but probably also a few bad ones too and I'm going to love the crap out of college.
Lately I've been watching Weeds.
But this silence towards all things college, so near but so not even here yet, is not only present in my room but also in conversations with friends not going to OSU. Fortunately enough, it's safe to say that the majority of my friends are coming to school with me, but there are still a couple left over who aren't, and boy have my conversations with them become limited in discussion topics.
With Sam, we just try not to talk about the fact that we've been best friends since we were 12 and that she's going to Chicago and I probably won't see her again until at least November. We talk about how we don't talk about it though. And we talk about her boyfriend, Elliot, who is really adorable.
With Conor we just talk about the past and leave the present and the future to be discussed when the present and the future are the past. We drive around and visit our old spots, Lakewood Park where our initials are in the cement and where the most beautiful Cleveland skyline can be seen, and Steve's Hotdogs which is tiny and a little bit scary but it's cheap and delicious, and we drive in the valley where it's dark and quiet. And we talk about the times we had but not the times we're having. It's okay.
I think that probably at this time in our lives, everyone is feeling at least a little overwhelmed by all of the stress that this monumental move is causing, and it's turning us all quiet, and it's normal. Quiet towards our clothes, and quiet towards our friends. Mourning the death of high school and high school relationships and home cooked meals and particularly cozy beds and big rooms we do not share and the comfort of living with cats.
For whatever reason I feel like if I am not in this state of emotional sloth towards dealing with my sadness of leaving friends and my physical sloth of actually moving my stuff, I will be in the absolute opposite end of the spectrum where every single one of my possessions would be boxed up in my living room right now and I would be sitting awake every night reading and rereading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks in anxious preparation. I can't picture myself at some kind of happy medium.
But the truth about Going Away to College is that I'm never going to stop being friends with Sam and Conor and I'm going to get my stuff together by Sunday and I'm going to get really smart and I'm going to read lots of good books and I'm going to smile at everyone and make lots of friends and I'm going to go to parties with all the cool kids and make lots of good choices but probably also a few bad ones too and I'm going to love the crap out of college.
Conor and me at graduation
Me, Sam and Laura before Prom.
Monday, August 13, 2012
college blogging maybe yay!
Guess what attentive readers of my blog! I did decide on a college. It is OSU. How silly though really that I'm telling you now, but I just realized that this is possibly the first time I have written since I decided on OSU. Not that I think what happened would entirely qualify as a decision, but nevertheless, I am a buckeye!
Actually the silly thing that brought me back to this blog is that I am applying to be a buckeye blogger and my application asked me if I currently keep a blog, and I guess that technically, I do. Well, more than technically, I was a fairly active blogger (which is true despite my low subscriber count, never really cared much about if it got read) up until recently when my whole life got flip turned upside down.
I'll give you a couple seconds to finish singing the fresh prince of belair theme.
...
okay done. Well anyways I was just checking what the state of this dusty little blog was and I realized it certainly has been awhile. But when I read the email inviting me to apply, I felt a little tingle of excitement and motivation to go write. And I haven't felt the urge to write and followed up with actual writing in months, and even more importantly I haven't felt any sort of tingle of excitement towards anything non-academic at OSU since I "decided" I would be going there. But I have been anticipating college with excitement for years, up until now, when that excitement is coupled with anxiety.
So this is a big moment. I am excited for something pertaining to the university I am attending! I am writing again! Look at that. How lovely.
If I become a blogger for a much larger audience though, I will definitely need to work on writing conclusions. They certainly are my writing achille's heel.
Actually the silly thing that brought me back to this blog is that I am applying to be a buckeye blogger and my application asked me if I currently keep a blog, and I guess that technically, I do. Well, more than technically, I was a fairly active blogger (which is true despite my low subscriber count, never really cared much about if it got read) up until recently when my whole life got flip turned upside down.
I'll give you a couple seconds to finish singing the fresh prince of belair theme.
...
okay done. Well anyways I was just checking what the state of this dusty little blog was and I realized it certainly has been awhile. But when I read the email inviting me to apply, I felt a little tingle of excitement and motivation to go write. And I haven't felt the urge to write and followed up with actual writing in months, and even more importantly I haven't felt any sort of tingle of excitement towards anything non-academic at OSU since I "decided" I would be going there. But I have been anticipating college with excitement for years, up until now, when that excitement is coupled with anxiety.
So this is a big moment. I am excited for something pertaining to the university I am attending! I am writing again! Look at that. How lovely.
If I become a blogger for a much larger audience though, I will definitely need to work on writing conclusions. They certainly are my writing achille's heel.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I'm babysitting and I'm bored
I'm pretty sick of getting discouraged in English. I obviously realize that there are students in the class who take words and make them into art and are awesome at explaining themselves and thinking of ideas but I just feel like I should at least be in the top half of my class and I'm not. It makes me not want to write much anymore. Which is stupid, because I obviously like writing I'm just kind of tired of sucking at it and it's pretty difficult to actively work on improving something that has always felt natural. What I mean by that is, I don't really think about the way I'm saying what I want to say so much as I typically just let it come from my fingertips onto the paper (or, less romantically, the screen) and then at the end I look it over and maybe change to words but really I just kind of do it naturally. And I like how I write.
So whatever I guess. Stop sippin' the haterade.
I know I've already talked about girl lingo and shit girls say that piss me off but this THIS SHIT
"I don't want to be the girl you call hot; I want to be the girl you call beautiful."
...not that the person who writes that ever knows that it oughtta be a semicolon or colon instead of a comma
but moving on, this is so annoying in so many ways. let's count them.
1. While I realize that being called beautiful as like, a surprising thing, is nice, I swear to god it typically sounds insincere for some reason to me. Which might be an indicator of self esteem issues or whatever, but it's not. I practically drip with confidence. But I can stay from experience that when a guy whispers You're not hot; you're BEAUTIFUL it really feels nothing short of fake and scripted. There aren't cameras around, what's the point of denying yourself the risk and joy of coming up with your own words.
2. I'm not trying to say that guys shouldn't call girls beautiful-- that's their perogative. But girls should stop being so demanding and should stop watching romantic comedies/novel-turned-movie Nicholas Sparks shit. I believe that love will happen wonderfully and uniquely and it will be awesome and you'll have your stories to tell one day no matter what, you shouldn't ruin them by writing the dialogue ahead of time.
3. Being hot is not a bad thing.
Another quote that was cute when I was 12 and is not cute now: Shoot for the moon, cuz even if you miss you'll land among the stars <3333
BLECH PUKE GROSS STOP IT
If I was on a space mission to the moon, I would get pretty pissed off if I landed among the stars for the record.
And that is how I would like to conclude this post.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
gripe
alright what the fuck is with this current influx of girls who think their thoughts are interesting enough that they might generate a blog audience.
i just realized how hypocritical that was.
but their blogs aren't even well written!
i just realized how hypocritical that was.
but their blogs aren't even well written!
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Shivering.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing worse in the whole world than waking up warm, and cozy, and comfortable, and still sleepy, and wonderful, and wiping the sand from your eyes (so gently placed by the sandman), and stretching your arms up to the sun, and cracking your back just a little, and getting out of bed, in comfy leggings, and thick socks, and an Ecuador sweatshirt that reminds you of your brother who you miss, and ever so slowly walking into the green bathroom, and turning the knob of the shower, and then biding your time for a few minutes, but eventually, you get in and IT'S SO FUCKING COLD AND NOTHING WILL NEVER BE WARM AGAIN AND YOU WILL HATE IT.
You just will.
You just will.
Monday, March 12, 2012
the best things in life actually are free
Netflix is BROKEN. Seriously the one week of the year I can stay up late without feeling guilty that I'll ruin tomorrow, Netflix is broken. What the hell.
But anyways, that doesn't matter because it's given me a chance to write so I suppose it ain't so bad after all. I've been considering it lately and I think that the cliche stating that the best things in life are free is in fact, true. But of course, that's not just the most cliche thing that I believe most pinterest-users believe would be love, but it's true with everything. Fitness and health are free, although some people choose to pay for them when running around the block and running on a treadmill are the same thing. Basically.
But also, words and writing are free. Which is nice, so when someone says Have a nice day! you should always say You too! because it costs you nothing at all. And some people appreciate stuff like that. People like me.
Cats can be free depending on your frame of mind, and cats are DEFINITELY some of the best things in life.
Sitting by Lake Erie and watching the water is free, so I guess, beautiful sights are free.
Sometimes when I'm frustrated by something that has a cost, it helps to think about the things that are free instead. All of the free things I could be doing instead, and then, I just go do those things instead and I am happy.
Netflix has a cost but it's so damn worth it... and NOW it's working again! look at that timing.
But anyways, that doesn't matter because it's given me a chance to write so I suppose it ain't so bad after all. I've been considering it lately and I think that the cliche stating that the best things in life are free is in fact, true. But of course, that's not just the most cliche thing that I believe most pinterest-users believe would be love, but it's true with everything. Fitness and health are free, although some people choose to pay for them when running around the block and running on a treadmill are the same thing. Basically.
But also, words and writing are free. Which is nice, so when someone says Have a nice day! you should always say You too! because it costs you nothing at all. And some people appreciate stuff like that. People like me.
Cats can be free depending on your frame of mind, and cats are DEFINITELY some of the best things in life.
Sitting by Lake Erie and watching the water is free, so I guess, beautiful sights are free.
Sometimes when I'm frustrated by something that has a cost, it helps to think about the things that are free instead. All of the free things I could be doing instead, and then, I just go do those things instead and I am happy.
Netflix has a cost but it's so damn worth it... and NOW it's working again! look at that timing.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
fish thoughts
So I was trying to sleep but too many thoughts were swimming through my brain.
Alas.
1. I don't think the word "died" should be used in any context other than a living thing has stopped being alive. Like, batteries should not die, nor should they be dead. There needs to be a different word for all things that can die that weren't alive. We need more words sometimes. But the verb to die needs to be more sacred I think.
2. I was going to do a post called Unhappy Opinions and so I have been saving the unhappy opinions I have in my phone, but I have only come up with two, and I've kind of just been itching to write about them so I'm gonna write about them nowwwww.
3. Last year I wrote a research paper about how in Tanzania, people with Albinism (aka Albino people, though that is not their preferred phrasing of their condition. The nice way of saying it is People with Albinism, or PWA.) are being slaughtered in the middle of the night. This is because witch doctors pay high prices for the bones of PWAs, like thousands of dollars, so men sneak into the houses of PWAs and chop off their limbs. Like only one limb. And then they will walk away with a leg and the PWA either dies or is, I suppose, an amputee.
So basically, it's awful. Isn't it?
Yes-- for everyone though. Except the witch doctors I guess. But this is why: Tanzania is a horribly impoverished country. And while it is awful that these people are being killed/maimed for their limbs, I understand why. And when I was writing this research paper, I asked my dad, If our family was starving, food being an irregular part of our lives, would you kill an innocent person to feed our family?
Would you?
Wouldn't you though? Couldn't everyone say that at some point, they would kill an innocent human being in order to save their own family? I'm not sure if I would, but I don't judge those who would. Who did. I sympathize with the people with albinism who suffered these tragedies, with the people who lost members of their family in what I ultimately believe was a fight for food.
Or maybe it wasn't, maybe the murderers were already well off. But I doubt it. It seems desperate to me.
4. I want to be able to use the words didactic and pedantic in sentences. When I can do that, I will know that I am smart.
5. Turns out, I never actually wrote down my unhappy opinions. Just thought I did. And I know there were two but I can only remember the one because I think about it a lot, obviously. I wrote it a year ago and still have it in my brain.
6. I worry that I am too obsessed with numbers sometimes. And that worry comes directly from the fact that I just watched the episode in season one of lost in which hurley is shown winning the lottery and trying to find out what the numbers mean but honestly, that is something I could see myself becoming obsessed with. I used to count the syllables of the people speaking around me but I stopped doing that because it was too disruptive and I stopped actually listening to what people said when they spoke.
9653; 11532.
If you know what these numbers are... you are an impressive sir.
Alas.
1. I don't think the word "died" should be used in any context other than a living thing has stopped being alive. Like, batteries should not die, nor should they be dead. There needs to be a different word for all things that can die that weren't alive. We need more words sometimes. But the verb to die needs to be more sacred I think.
2. I was going to do a post called Unhappy Opinions and so I have been saving the unhappy opinions I have in my phone, but I have only come up with two, and I've kind of just been itching to write about them so I'm gonna write about them nowwwww.
3. Last year I wrote a research paper about how in Tanzania, people with Albinism (aka Albino people, though that is not their preferred phrasing of their condition. The nice way of saying it is People with Albinism, or PWA.) are being slaughtered in the middle of the night. This is because witch doctors pay high prices for the bones of PWAs, like thousands of dollars, so men sneak into the houses of PWAs and chop off their limbs. Like only one limb. And then they will walk away with a leg and the PWA either dies or is, I suppose, an amputee.
So basically, it's awful. Isn't it?
Yes-- for everyone though. Except the witch doctors I guess. But this is why: Tanzania is a horribly impoverished country. And while it is awful that these people are being killed/maimed for their limbs, I understand why. And when I was writing this research paper, I asked my dad, If our family was starving, food being an irregular part of our lives, would you kill an innocent person to feed our family?
Would you?
Wouldn't you though? Couldn't everyone say that at some point, they would kill an innocent human being in order to save their own family? I'm not sure if I would, but I don't judge those who would. Who did. I sympathize with the people with albinism who suffered these tragedies, with the people who lost members of their family in what I ultimately believe was a fight for food.
Or maybe it wasn't, maybe the murderers were already well off. But I doubt it. It seems desperate to me.
4. I want to be able to use the words didactic and pedantic in sentences. When I can do that, I will know that I am smart.
5. Turns out, I never actually wrote down my unhappy opinions. Just thought I did. And I know there were two but I can only remember the one because I think about it a lot, obviously. I wrote it a year ago and still have it in my brain.
6. I worry that I am too obsessed with numbers sometimes. And that worry comes directly from the fact that I just watched the episode in season one of lost in which hurley is shown winning the lottery and trying to find out what the numbers mean but honestly, that is something I could see myself becoming obsessed with. I used to count the syllables of the people speaking around me but I stopped doing that because it was too disruptive and I stopped actually listening to what people said when they spoke.
9653; 11532.
If you know what these numbers are... you are an impressive sir.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Vicious circle
So these last two days have sucked. And I have no smart thoughts to tell you so heads up, this post is nothing more than summary of my life.
Apparently I have the trendy new flu that has been going around (that I have not heard of but my mom has, which makes sense because she's cooler than me) soooo I have had a headache and a temperature that's too low or too high all the time and the worst feeling throat ever.
And I mean the worst fucking throat you can possibly ever imagine.
It's not like scratchy at all and it doesn't hurt to talk or yell or scream or worst of all, cry, but it just fucking hurts. Picture you're idea of a sore throat and just cut that out of your brain because this is not at all the same thing. I fucking wish I had a sore throat. It's only on one side of my throat but there's some like horrible thing back there. Every time I swallow, which is pretty often because swallowing is a natural reflex, the name of which I learned in 10th grade bio and I think it starts with an e but I cannot remember, I feel excruciating pain coming from the left side of the back of my throat. And the rest of the time, when I am thinking about trying to not swallow, it just aches. So scale of 1 to 10 it's like a 4 all of the time and then an 8 every time I swallow and it SUCKS
So I've taken 11 motrins today. ELEVEN
And thanks to pain killer medications, the pain kind of comes and goes in waves where sometimes it's okay and manageable but other times I find myself digging my nails into my skin or pulling my hair out of my scalp to distract from the fact that I know I have to swallow but I don't want to.
So that has been my life. And it blows. And then every time I let myself think about how crappy I feel I just start crying because 2 and a half straight days of this insane throat business is enough to drive really really sane people to madness, and everyone here knows that I wasn't starting from full sanity anyways.
And every time I start crying, my headache gets worse because that's just how my life is, which makes me cry more because it makes me feel more crappy.
And I can't sleep because it hurts, but then I feel extra exhausted the next day and thus tomorrow I will be more prone to crying due to exhaustion
Vicious circle.
And I had to miss work on Wednesday and I probably will tomorrow too which makes me feel really badly because I just started there and I really like it but i can't work with the flu. or rather, the "flu"
Wanna know something gross? You can physically feel the gland fighting the infection on the left side of my throat. It's a huge fucking gland. And it's fucking pissed off.
Apparently I have the trendy new flu that has been going around (that I have not heard of but my mom has, which makes sense because she's cooler than me) soooo I have had a headache and a temperature that's too low or too high all the time and the worst feeling throat ever.
And I mean the worst fucking throat you can possibly ever imagine.
It's not like scratchy at all and it doesn't hurt to talk or yell or scream or worst of all, cry, but it just fucking hurts. Picture you're idea of a sore throat and just cut that out of your brain because this is not at all the same thing. I fucking wish I had a sore throat. It's only on one side of my throat but there's some like horrible thing back there. Every time I swallow, which is pretty often because swallowing is a natural reflex, the name of which I learned in 10th grade bio and I think it starts with an e but I cannot remember, I feel excruciating pain coming from the left side of the back of my throat. And the rest of the time, when I am thinking about trying to not swallow, it just aches. So scale of 1 to 10 it's like a 4 all of the time and then an 8 every time I swallow and it SUCKS
So I've taken 11 motrins today. ELEVEN
And thanks to pain killer medications, the pain kind of comes and goes in waves where sometimes it's okay and manageable but other times I find myself digging my nails into my skin or pulling my hair out of my scalp to distract from the fact that I know I have to swallow but I don't want to.
So that has been my life. And it blows. And then every time I let myself think about how crappy I feel I just start crying because 2 and a half straight days of this insane throat business is enough to drive really really sane people to madness, and everyone here knows that I wasn't starting from full sanity anyways.
And every time I start crying, my headache gets worse because that's just how my life is, which makes me cry more because it makes me feel more crappy.
And I can't sleep because it hurts, but then I feel extra exhausted the next day and thus tomorrow I will be more prone to crying due to exhaustion
Vicious circle.
And I had to miss work on Wednesday and I probably will tomorrow too which makes me feel really badly because I just started there and I really like it but i can't work with the flu. or rather, the "flu"
Wanna know something gross? You can physically feel the gland fighting the infection on the left side of my throat. It's a huge fucking gland. And it's fucking pissed off.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Alright so here it is. While I regularly refrain from correcting the grammar of the unfortunate miscreants who show up on my news feed, for some reason tonight I was just looking to teach the difference between who and that. You should never say "He is the man that went to the supermarket", you should say "He is the man who went to the supermarket" because who refers to a person. While this rule is actually unnecessary because grammar is only meant to facilitate communication and make it more efficient, and therefore the purpose of grammar is slaughtered when it is corrected and an argument is had over it, because you know what they mean anyway, it is still a grammatical rule and when you're 18 years old AKA you have just spent 13 years NONSTOP in school, YOU SHOULD JUST KIND OF KNOW THIS SORT OF SHIT.
My run-on sentences were a rhetorical choice. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Speaking of rhetorical choices, if you ever want to cover up the fact that you're dumb and make grammatical mistakes, call it a rhetorical choice and no one will argue with you because no one except AP Lang students has any idea what a rhetorical choice might be. Now you know. I have let you in on a secret.
My run-on sentences were a rhetorical choice. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Speaking of rhetorical choices, if you ever want to cover up the fact that you're dumb and make grammatical mistakes, call it a rhetorical choice and no one will argue with you because no one except AP Lang students has any idea what a rhetorical choice might be. Now you know. I have let you in on a secret.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Classic.
Well hello there blog. Great news! I have been taking note of things that I hate lately just so that I could write a post about them and, while my original plan was to do this for far longer than 1 week, I just hate all of these things so much that I can't even wait to tell you.
And a small disclaimer, as I have said in the past, most of the things I complain about are entirely ridiculous things and I could definitely be spending my time in more constructive ways but still, I had a crap weekend and I find this to be cathartic.
In order of when I noticed them:
1. That shit cliche in books and movies in which a brunette female has a job working for a high-end fashion magazine but still claims that she wants to be a "REAL writer." What exactly defines being a REAL writer? Writing about something that "matters"? my ass.
2. That shit cliche in movies (mainly, but sometimes books) in which the protagonist is rude to everybody because her life is far too busy and she is far too important to give people the time of day, yet EVERYONE is nice to her anyway and sympathizes with her struggle against the man anyways. If a real woman were half as rude as most female protagonists in romantic comedies, she would not get laid ever and everyone knows it.
3. When people rhyme passion with fashion. Come up with something new DAMN
4. When people (ahem, Luke Blazevic*, in math class, every damn day) say "flip flop" instead of saying switch or replace or something that makes any sense at all
5. When math teachers tell you to plug and chug. And, if you do not attend Westlake High School, that phrase probably means nothing to you because what the hell does it mean anyway? How does the word "chug" make sense in that context? Huh?
6. In a very George Orwell kind of a way, I hate when people use unclear wording and non sequitur-ish terms to describe serious things. Or not serious things, but especially when it's serious. A lame and unserious example would be instead of answering the question of Where is Karen? with Karen went to the supermarket, an ass who doesn't want you to know exactly what Karen is up to might say: Karen is not at home. While the second statement is just as true as the first, it is unspecific and does not at all answer the question. And it pisses me the hell fucking off.**
7. The phrase "i would never kiss someone who smokes- it would taste like an ashtray!" Honestly- when licking an ashtray, my first concern would not be the taste but rather the germs from trillions of little ashes sitting on there for probably months and the texture of those ashes. Blech. All I'm saying is that the taste of an ashtray is not the gross part about licking an ashtray.
*yeah I'm naming names.
**If this is the type of business-adult-speak I have to look forward to, I want no damn part of it. Ever.
And a small disclaimer, as I have said in the past, most of the things I complain about are entirely ridiculous things and I could definitely be spending my time in more constructive ways but still, I had a crap weekend and I find this to be cathartic.
In order of when I noticed them:
1. That shit cliche in books and movies in which a brunette female has a job working for a high-end fashion magazine but still claims that she wants to be a "REAL writer." What exactly defines being a REAL writer? Writing about something that "matters"? my ass.
2. That shit cliche in movies (mainly, but sometimes books) in which the protagonist is rude to everybody because her life is far too busy and she is far too important to give people the time of day, yet EVERYONE is nice to her anyway and sympathizes with her struggle against the man anyways. If a real woman were half as rude as most female protagonists in romantic comedies, she would not get laid ever and everyone knows it.
3. When people rhyme passion with fashion. Come up with something new DAMN
4. When people (ahem, Luke Blazevic*, in math class, every damn day) say "flip flop" instead of saying switch or replace or something that makes any sense at all
5. When math teachers tell you to plug and chug. And, if you do not attend Westlake High School, that phrase probably means nothing to you because what the hell does it mean anyway? How does the word "chug" make sense in that context? Huh?
6. In a very George Orwell kind of a way, I hate when people use unclear wording and non sequitur-ish terms to describe serious things. Or not serious things, but especially when it's serious. A lame and unserious example would be instead of answering the question of Where is Karen? with Karen went to the supermarket, an ass who doesn't want you to know exactly what Karen is up to might say: Karen is not at home. While the second statement is just as true as the first, it is unspecific and does not at all answer the question. And it pisses me the hell fucking off.**
7. The phrase "i would never kiss someone who smokes- it would taste like an ashtray!" Honestly- when licking an ashtray, my first concern would not be the taste but rather the germs from trillions of little ashes sitting on there for probably months and the texture of those ashes. Blech. All I'm saying is that the taste of an ashtray is not the gross part about licking an ashtray.
*yeah I'm naming names.
**If this is the type of business-adult-speak I have to look forward to, I want no damn part of it. Ever.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
A High School Graduate Nose Best
When the board of education first sent me a letter asking me to blast my verbal excellence on the class of 2012 at our commencement ceremony, I thought hey, it’s our commencement; yes they should have the privilege of hearing my brilliance. And because it is only in movies that the speaker condemns her entire class to a life in the fast food industry, I decided I wanted to not insult anyone to the point that I get uninvited from grad parties.
I began my thought process by asking myself the most basic question: What has high school meant to me?
And after two and a half weeks of agonizing thought, trying every method I could to extract some deep, beautiful metaphor or idea or analogy about which to write my speech, I finally came up with this.
High school is the life equivalent to the nose. It is a nose. It is a part of life, and in most cases -- especially in Westlake, Ohio—it will be an unavoidable part of life. The things pertaining to noses are typically only enjoyable about one quarter of the time. Think of all the winters you have been sniffling, all of the disgusting smells you have endured, all of the painful zits you have gotten right on the tip of your own shnozz making you resemble everyone’s favorite reindeer. You can imagine the real-life parallels to these nasal troubles: long nights of homework, the parking lot suddenly turning into a lake when it rains, the evil boys in gym class who play dodgeball as if their very lives depended on this game.
But, like I said, 25% of the time, a nose is a lovely thing. Playing got-your-nose with little kids, smelling fresh flowers in the spring time, sniffing warm bread on the table. These are the times when you catch yourself thinking, yeah, having a nose is wonderful. These are the Friday night football games, the cute boy in your French class, Bosco-stick day in the cafeteria.
The truth of it all is that high school had its moments, and though I am not sad that the end is near, I will look back on those moments fondly in the future. And for that, I would like to thank the class of 2012. May none of you end up in the fast food industry.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
titles are hard
Hello! Well I haven't posted in a week or so but I feel like I should write something (a feeling that I rarely get when there isn't something specific or ever vaguely specific I feel like writing about) so this will probably be sort of a clusterfuck.
I have been considering lately my future in different ways than I have been for awhile, which is normal, I shift my outlook pretty often. I still want to study Arabic and the like but I also just kind of want to study language as a study itself, like alphabets and history of communication and such and I have been considering maybe studying journalism. I'm not sure if journalism is something I could actually do because of my complete tendency to procrastinate and not do anything and because of my generally irritated perception of many of the human beings I have encountered.
But see then I go and write lengthy, verbose yet clear sentences like the previous one and I can't help but think that that is the type of thing I would like to do forever.
Something really awesome happened to me!
I was driving from OSU back to Capital University (a ten minute drive- if that) with three friends when my back left tire blew out on a highway. Definitely the scariest thing that has ever happened to me, but the crazy part is that not one, but two men pulled over to help us. This awesome guy Mark put my spare tire on my car, which promptly shredded as soon as we started driving and then he drove us to the nearest Goodyear so that I could buy a brand new tire and then he put that on my car too.
The kindness of strangers is so inspirational. As horrendous as many people are, it's people like Mark (and Charlie- who didn't really help us so much as kept an eye on Mark, who kept an eye on Charlie. Checks and balances when dealing with strangers.) who put me in a far better mood to deal with humanity. They are also, conversely, the type of people who make me pissed off at selfish bimbos/douchebags who fail to consider that someone has it far worse than they do and complain about the fact that they didn't get the right color iPhone for Christmas, for example.
So I made Mark cookies and got him a visa gift card, all of which I will be mailing to him post haste.
I have learned so much about kindness and love and sharing this weekend that I can hardly contain my current positive outlook towards everything. Also I had really good dreams last night. I can only remember specifics or the first one but the second one I remember thinking during it, wow, this is a really good night to have dreams.
Also! I promise to post the actual commencement speech that I wrote and read out loud to my English class which, SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH got literal lolz (they ACTUALLY laughed out loud!) and no one openly hated/asked if they could burn, and personally, I consider that a win in the speech-giving field.
I have been considering lately my future in different ways than I have been for awhile, which is normal, I shift my outlook pretty often. I still want to study Arabic and the like but I also just kind of want to study language as a study itself, like alphabets and history of communication and such and I have been considering maybe studying journalism. I'm not sure if journalism is something I could actually do because of my complete tendency to procrastinate and not do anything and because of my generally irritated perception of many of the human beings I have encountered.
But see then I go and write lengthy, verbose yet clear sentences like the previous one and I can't help but think that that is the type of thing I would like to do forever.
Something really awesome happened to me!
I was driving from OSU back to Capital University (a ten minute drive- if that) with three friends when my back left tire blew out on a highway. Definitely the scariest thing that has ever happened to me, but the crazy part is that not one, but two men pulled over to help us. This awesome guy Mark put my spare tire on my car, which promptly shredded as soon as we started driving and then he drove us to the nearest Goodyear so that I could buy a brand new tire and then he put that on my car too.
The kindness of strangers is so inspirational. As horrendous as many people are, it's people like Mark (and Charlie- who didn't really help us so much as kept an eye on Mark, who kept an eye on Charlie. Checks and balances when dealing with strangers.) who put me in a far better mood to deal with humanity. They are also, conversely, the type of people who make me pissed off at selfish bimbos/douchebags who fail to consider that someone has it far worse than they do and complain about the fact that they didn't get the right color iPhone for Christmas, for example.
So I made Mark cookies and got him a visa gift card, all of which I will be mailing to him post haste.
I have learned so much about kindness and love and sharing this weekend that I can hardly contain my current positive outlook towards everything. Also I had really good dreams last night. I can only remember specifics or the first one but the second one I remember thinking during it, wow, this is a really good night to have dreams.
Also! I promise to post the actual commencement speech that I wrote and read out loud to my English class which, SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH got literal lolz (they ACTUALLY laughed out loud!) and no one openly hated/asked if they could burn, and personally, I consider that a win in the speech-giving field.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The full essay
This is exactly what I plan to turn in. It is not quite two pages. Just read the first two paragraphs and then the last one, or if you're in for all the lolz and the information (of which there is little) feel free to read the whole damn thing. The last paragraph makes it look like I blatantly plagiarized buttttt I didn't. I'm just a sarcastic asshole.
Sheppard v. Maxwell
Sam Sheppard was a fantastic high school student, competing for Cleveland Heights High School in Football, Basketball and Track as well as serving as the class president for three years. He went on to attend Hanover College in Indiana to major in pre-med and finally became a doctor in 1942. The 40’s being a great decade for Sheppard, he also married his wife Marilyn who bore his first child, also named Sam.
Sheppard’s story is one of typical, you-never-thought-it-would-be-him caliber. He was a class president and athlete to all who knew him as an adolescent, a doctor to those who knew him in his adulthood, and most importantly, a father to Sam and a husband to Marilyn. Despite his seemingly happy lifestyle, he went on to become one of the most famous murderers in the history of Ohio. In the early morning of July 4th, 1954, Sam Sheppard Sr. murdered pregnant Marilyn for what seems to be no good reason at all.
But the truly shocking aspect of the case was the trial, and more specifically, the way that print media affected the outcome of the trial. Because no one likes to see a double-murder in the form of a murder of a pregnant woman, the press and the public assisted each other in going berserk. They fed off of each other, demonizing Sheppard in every way, and condemning him to be found guilty.
Sheppard made the claim that his civil right listed in the 5th amendment granting him due process of law had been violated during his trial due to the widespread, prejudicial glare blinding him during his trial, and after he had already served 10 years of his sentence, the Supreme Court reviewed his case and on an 8 to 1 vote, agreed with him. The court concluded that the judge should have postponed proceedings or changed the venue, and ordered that Sheppard be released from prison or granted a retrial.
It was decided that Sheppard’s 5th and 6th amendment rights were the specific ones which were lost in his trial; due process of law from the 5th and that he was not granted an impartial jury from the 6th. His jury was decided to have been biased because of the layout of the courtroom, in which the prosecution and the press were juxtaposed in a way such that they could play off of each other, which made it appear to the jury that Sheppard could be nothing but guilty. As an effect of this trial, juries on popular trials like this one are almost always sequestered, and media is no longer permitted to impede the result of a trial.
Two wives and a liver failure later, Sheppard died in 1970. His legacy lived on through his son, Sam Sheppard Jr., who, in 2000 sued Ohio for wrongful imprisonment of his father for 10 years. Sam Jr. lost, which really does not made any sense at all considering that Sam Sr.’s trial was overturned by the supreme court and whatnot, but that is government for you.
In order to prove that his father was wrongly imprisoned, Sam Jr. was forced to dig up his father’s body from the cemetery it was buried in in Columbus. After the trial, Sam Sr.’s body was cremated with that of his first wife Marilyn, which is a real testament to true love. True love always finds its way.
I am Jon Stewart
Any teachers of mine who are not English teachers probably think I'm in 9th grade English still. I do it a little bit on purpose though because if the only requirement is "must be 2 pages" then why shouldn't I include the sentence "In the early morning of July 4th, 1954, Sam Sheppard Sr. murdered pregnant Marilyn for what seems to be no good reason at all."
it adds space. Makes me feel like a news anchor. Whatevs.
My Commencement Speech by Hayley Hartman
I have to write a commencement speech for my English class, but I have a problem and it is that I do not believe anyone is less suited to write a commencement speech than me ever. For reasons:
a. For the amount of studying/class-attending/club-joining I actually did at WHS, it's like I didn't even go there.
b. Thoughts of how I have been in high school for three and a half years both make me feel like a champion for surviving but also induce nausea
c. I like to write about writing which makes me poorly suited to write. Like I would like to start off my speech with something along the lines of "When I was asked to write this speech, I was like no way!" or something and that is just nottttt something you can do. The thing about 500 word anythings is that you don't have many words for an introduction so a sentence being like "I hate high school and it is totes uncharacteristic of me to write this" just takes up words and really doesn't say anything pertaining to my purpose
d. I hate high school
e. Having just written a bunch of shitty college essays, I can tell you that 500 words is not enough words to actually get across a point.
f. On paper, you can at least pretend that my writing has some sort of natural flow to it but when I am speaking words you will notice that I tend to jump from topic to topic for no obvious reason (in the middle of that sentence, I picked up my phone and texted him DID YOU LOOK AT THE VIDEO I SENT YOU OF MAO?, thus proving that I am not particularly good at staying on topic ever) but now we know that the reason is because my mind is always in 14 different places.
I could honestly write a down-with-high-school speech if I wanted to and my English teacher would be okay with it as long as I used tropes (which are what exactly? no fucking clue) but I would have to write it really well because that's kind of a difficult stance to take and
I stopped in the middle of that sentence because actually, if I wrote a semi-decent down-with-high-school speech, and made only like 2 good points about why it's a horrid disgusting system, a solid 98% of my audience would probably agree with me and we could revolt and set the school ablaze.
But the reason (this is an example of how I am obsessed with writing about writing) I am writing a blog post instead right now is because I decided that I could just write down all of my thoughts of high school as a blog post because it will probably be fairly amusing considering my stance of hostility towards the entire institution and that is why we are here today. Anddddd start.
I am going to start with a lullaby, because I would like to soothe all of the sleeping people with music before I wake them up with Lewis Black style ranting and yelling.
(to the tune of rock-a-bye baby)
Rock a bye grandma,
in the upper deck
when the grad speaks,
you are so bor-ed
When the baby squeals,
you will wake up
Annoyed will be grandma
Because commencement speeches succcccckkkk
*pause for lolz*
Did the gratuitous amounts of laughter from the entire audience wake you up? Oh good.
But in all seriousness, what a long strange trip it has been. In Eric Forman's basement. See I, probably unlike many of your lovely, motivated children, watched gratuitous amounts of TV in my high school years instead of doing other things that are school related, like clubs and studying and homework. Which makes me an awful candidate for writing a nostalgic speech about high school.
But other than the fact that I lived my high school years vicariously through the cast of That 70's Show, I will also probably never feel nostalgic for high school. Because really, what do you, parents, miss about high school? Probably things along the lines of suckin' on chili dogs outside the tastee freeze, and sittin' on Jacky's lap with his hand between your knees? Well I think chili dogs are disgusting and haven't had a real boyfriend since I was 14, and even then, I probably wouldn't count him as a real boyfriend anyways.
What I am saying is that high school is just what you make it. And when you make it about education or grades, you're nostalgic because you probably succeeded. And when you make it about having a social life, you're nostalgic because you had fun times. But when you hate school and most people, you end up with nothing more than or less than four years of your life you will never get back.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter, I'm just observational. I know that society tried it's best to make me educated and pleasant to be around but alas, I am neither.
What I have found in high school, is that although my teachers have been likable and kind people, and although it is no fault of their own, are missing the point. The point of high school is to get an education. The point of high school is not to receive grades. That is why, I believe, that
Ew this is turning into my education essay (which I got a C+ on, far more than what I should have gotten if I am being honest). I just found high school to be intensely lame and underwhelming. And I am very happy it's nearly over.
I'm really trying to get my most honest thoughts out about it all.
anddd twenty minutes on tumblr later
I DON'T HAVE ANY. NO COMMENT. HIGH SCHOOL WAS NOT TOO TERRIBLE BUT NOT SOMETHING I WOULD DO OVER AT ALL EVER. I'M GLAD IT'S OVER. I WAS MISERABLE LIKE 69% OF THE TIME, BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE, SOME ASSHOLE KID WOULD TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT ANYTHING EVER AND THE TRUTH ITSELF WOULD MAKE ME LAUGH AND EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY FOR ABOUT 3 MINUTES, AND THEN I WOULD BE MISERABLE AGAIN.
And now, you have been speeched. Thank you, class of 2012, you have been mediocre. Best of luck to you, but only because luck isn't real.
a. For the amount of studying/class-attending/club-joining I actually did at WHS, it's like I didn't even go there.
b. Thoughts of how I have been in high school for three and a half years both make me feel like a champion for surviving but also induce nausea
c. I like to write about writing which makes me poorly suited to write. Like I would like to start off my speech with something along the lines of "When I was asked to write this speech, I was like no way!" or something and that is just nottttt something you can do. The thing about 500 word anythings is that you don't have many words for an introduction so a sentence being like "I hate high school and it is totes uncharacteristic of me to write this" just takes up words and really doesn't say anything pertaining to my purpose
d. I hate high school
e. Having just written a bunch of shitty college essays, I can tell you that 500 words is not enough words to actually get across a point.
f. On paper, you can at least pretend that my writing has some sort of natural flow to it but when I am speaking words you will notice that I tend to jump from topic to topic for no obvious reason (in the middle of that sentence, I picked up my phone and texted him DID YOU LOOK AT THE VIDEO I SENT YOU OF MAO?, thus proving that I am not particularly good at staying on topic ever) but now we know that the reason is because my mind is always in 14 different places.
I could honestly write a down-with-high-school speech if I wanted to and my English teacher would be okay with it as long as I used tropes (which are what exactly? no fucking clue) but I would have to write it really well because that's kind of a difficult stance to take and
I stopped in the middle of that sentence because actually, if I wrote a semi-decent down-with-high-school speech, and made only like 2 good points about why it's a horrid disgusting system, a solid 98% of my audience would probably agree with me and we could revolt and set the school ablaze.
But the reason (this is an example of how I am obsessed with writing about writing) I am writing a blog post instead right now is because I decided that I could just write down all of my thoughts of high school as a blog post because it will probably be fairly amusing considering my stance of hostility towards the entire institution and that is why we are here today. Anddddd start.
I am going to start with a lullaby, because I would like to soothe all of the sleeping people with music before I wake them up with Lewis Black style ranting and yelling.
(to the tune of rock-a-bye baby)
Rock a bye grandma,
in the upper deck
when the grad speaks,
you are so bor-ed
When the baby squeals,
you will wake up
Annoyed will be grandma
Because commencement speeches succcccckkkk
*pause for lolz*
Did the gratuitous amounts of laughter from the entire audience wake you up? Oh good.
But in all seriousness, what a long strange trip it has been. In Eric Forman's basement. See I, probably unlike many of your lovely, motivated children, watched gratuitous amounts of TV in my high school years instead of doing other things that are school related, like clubs and studying and homework. Which makes me an awful candidate for writing a nostalgic speech about high school.
But other than the fact that I lived my high school years vicariously through the cast of That 70's Show, I will also probably never feel nostalgic for high school. Because really, what do you, parents, miss about high school? Probably things along the lines of suckin' on chili dogs outside the tastee freeze, and sittin' on Jacky's lap with his hand between your knees? Well I think chili dogs are disgusting and haven't had a real boyfriend since I was 14, and even then, I probably wouldn't count him as a real boyfriend anyways.
What I am saying is that high school is just what you make it. And when you make it about education or grades, you're nostalgic because you probably succeeded. And when you make it about having a social life, you're nostalgic because you had fun times. But when you hate school and most people, you end up with nothing more than or less than four years of your life you will never get back.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter, I'm just observational. I know that society tried it's best to make me educated and pleasant to be around but alas, I am neither.
What I have found in high school, is that although my teachers have been likable and kind people, and although it is no fault of their own, are missing the point. The point of high school is to get an education. The point of high school is not to receive grades. That is why, I believe, that
Ew this is turning into my education essay (which I got a C+ on, far more than what I should have gotten if I am being honest). I just found high school to be intensely lame and underwhelming. And I am very happy it's nearly over.
I'm really trying to get my most honest thoughts out about it all.
anddd twenty minutes on tumblr later
I DON'T HAVE ANY. NO COMMENT. HIGH SCHOOL WAS NOT TOO TERRIBLE BUT NOT SOMETHING I WOULD DO OVER AT ALL EVER. I'M GLAD IT'S OVER. I WAS MISERABLE LIKE 69% OF THE TIME, BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE, SOME ASSHOLE KID WOULD TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT ANYTHING EVER AND THE TRUTH ITSELF WOULD MAKE ME LAUGH AND EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY FOR ABOUT 3 MINUTES, AND THEN I WOULD BE MISERABLE AGAIN.
And now, you have been speeched. Thank you, class of 2012, you have been mediocre. Best of luck to you, but only because luck isn't real.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
If I were to write a chapter in Is everyone hanging out without me? This would be it.
So I just finished reading Mindy Kaling's book Is everyone hanging out without me? so you can go ahead and recognize right now that my writing style may sound a little more Kelly Kapoor-ish than usual.
Today I worked out. Twice. I also remembered deodorant. Once.
I gymnastics worked out for about an hour and a half, I was thirty minutes late because my car doors were iced shut*, a hilarious twist in my life courteous of mother nature. Gymnastics work-outs though are... not that hard most of the time. Granted, doing 15 tumbling passes or vault passes in a row is basically the equivalent of running 5 miles (which to me is like a huge horrible mysterious thing and that is not hyperbolic in anyway I swear) only you finish in 30 minutes or less instead of in an hour. So when you do stuff like that, gymnastics is really good exercise. But then there is also excessive amounts of standing around and waiting in line, which could be avoided if I was more motivated and less in pain all the time, but alas, it is not avoided.
After gymnastics, I drank a redbull which was definitely the reason why I was in the mood for a rec-center workout as well. I always go around 8 or 8:30, because there are usually only 2 or 3 people from my school there rather than at 4 when literally every person I have ever met just so happens to be at the rec center. That, and at 8 or 8:30 is also when other out of shape people go to work out, so we all can bond in our lack of fitness abilities.
Well, that's actually being modest to the point of lying for me. I am pretty athletically capable but in less practical things. Like I am really fantastic at stretching, but that's because it enables me to sit on the floor. I am also good at weight lifting with legs because I have huge quads and hamstrings. Where I lack athletic ability is in like, things that are really good for you, like running. I couldn't run a mile in under 10 minutes unless there was a gun to my head, and even then I would probably start retching halfway through. I can use the elliptical for days, but that's because I never actually feel like I am getting a workout from it.
So anyways, I went to the rec with my mom's iPod (because mine is dead and I can't find the charger**) and Mindy's book and I went to town on the elliptical. I decided I would run until I finished the book, because I only had 20 pages left. Let me tell you: I am a really really good elliptical-multi-tasker. You know how when you work out, you listen to upbeat tunes to keep you going fast in cardio? You know what I was listening to while keeping a steady pace of an 8 minute mile? John freakin Mayer. And reading a book. And putting down the book to take sips out of my water bottle every so often. I felt like spiderman.
So I was feeling all confident and I "ran" two and a half miles in twenty minutes. I walked over to the arm weights because I want to be able to do pull-ups (and chin-ups for that matter) and I did a few sets of 16 on 65 lbs. Which I admit, is definitely not the best weight I've ever been able to lift at that many reps in three sets, but I'm working on it, and then I did a different arm machine and then I went back to the first one and then the second one again.
And then, I saw it. The three and a half or so foot tall red shiny platform used for jumping on top of. I assume this strengthens leg muscles and such, and we do a lot of jumping in gymnastics, and I had done things like that on four foot platforms before so I was like fuck yeah, Hartman, you go do ten of those jumps and see how it goes. Let me tell you, 1-8 went really really well. But um, 9... It hurt like a bitch. Somehow I miscalculated my jump and I went wonky in a way such that I hit, and then landed on, my left mild-shin-splinty-shin. It was the kind of bruise that comes so fast that it practically came before the injury even happened. I'm sure it will be black tomorrow and will hurt for the next two weeks sooooo awesome.
But I did finish the set. After some mild profanity. Just kidding, it was pretty profane profanity.
After that I dipped out. As you can imagine, I had pretty much had my full share of work out Hayley for the night. And of course my less affectionate of my two cats, Mao, has decided that tonight is a great night to lay on top of my leg. But now he's licking himself in a really hilarious way as if he knows I needed some lolz. Thanks cat!
So that is my terrible workout story. Also, today I got an English paper back that said I would be a good writer if I would spend more time on it. Yeah, I know Mrs. Thomas. Story of my life.
*Also I had to eat a sandwich
**Typical
Today I worked out. Twice. I also remembered deodorant. Once.
I gymnastics worked out for about an hour and a half, I was thirty minutes late because my car doors were iced shut*, a hilarious twist in my life courteous of mother nature. Gymnastics work-outs though are... not that hard most of the time. Granted, doing 15 tumbling passes or vault passes in a row is basically the equivalent of running 5 miles (which to me is like a huge horrible mysterious thing and that is not hyperbolic in anyway I swear) only you finish in 30 minutes or less instead of in an hour. So when you do stuff like that, gymnastics is really good exercise. But then there is also excessive amounts of standing around and waiting in line, which could be avoided if I was more motivated and less in pain all the time, but alas, it is not avoided.
After gymnastics, I drank a redbull which was definitely the reason why I was in the mood for a rec-center workout as well. I always go around 8 or 8:30, because there are usually only 2 or 3 people from my school there rather than at 4 when literally every person I have ever met just so happens to be at the rec center. That, and at 8 or 8:30 is also when other out of shape people go to work out, so we all can bond in our lack of fitness abilities.
Well, that's actually being modest to the point of lying for me. I am pretty athletically capable but in less practical things. Like I am really fantastic at stretching, but that's because it enables me to sit on the floor. I am also good at weight lifting with legs because I have huge quads and hamstrings. Where I lack athletic ability is in like, things that are really good for you, like running. I couldn't run a mile in under 10 minutes unless there was a gun to my head, and even then I would probably start retching halfway through. I can use the elliptical for days, but that's because I never actually feel like I am getting a workout from it.
So anyways, I went to the rec with my mom's iPod (because mine is dead and I can't find the charger**) and Mindy's book and I went to town on the elliptical. I decided I would run until I finished the book, because I only had 20 pages left. Let me tell you: I am a really really good elliptical-multi-tasker. You know how when you work out, you listen to upbeat tunes to keep you going fast in cardio? You know what I was listening to while keeping a steady pace of an 8 minute mile? John freakin Mayer. And reading a book. And putting down the book to take sips out of my water bottle every so often. I felt like spiderman.
So I was feeling all confident and I "ran" two and a half miles in twenty minutes. I walked over to the arm weights because I want to be able to do pull-ups (and chin-ups for that matter) and I did a few sets of 16 on 65 lbs. Which I admit, is definitely not the best weight I've ever been able to lift at that many reps in three sets, but I'm working on it, and then I did a different arm machine and then I went back to the first one and then the second one again.
And then, I saw it. The three and a half or so foot tall red shiny platform used for jumping on top of. I assume this strengthens leg muscles and such, and we do a lot of jumping in gymnastics, and I had done things like that on four foot platforms before so I was like fuck yeah, Hartman, you go do ten of those jumps and see how it goes. Let me tell you, 1-8 went really really well. But um, 9... It hurt like a bitch. Somehow I miscalculated my jump and I went wonky in a way such that I hit, and then landed on, my left mild-shin-splinty-shin. It was the kind of bruise that comes so fast that it practically came before the injury even happened. I'm sure it will be black tomorrow and will hurt for the next two weeks sooooo awesome.
But I did finish the set. After some mild profanity. Just kidding, it was pretty profane profanity.
After that I dipped out. As you can imagine, I had pretty much had my full share of work out Hayley for the night. And of course my less affectionate of my two cats, Mao, has decided that tonight is a great night to lay on top of my leg. But now he's licking himself in a really hilarious way as if he knows I needed some lolz. Thanks cat!
So that is my terrible workout story. Also, today I got an English paper back that said I would be a good writer if I would spend more time on it. Yeah, I know Mrs. Thomas. Story of my life.
*Also I had to eat a sandwich
**Typical
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