What is this? I'm beating my self-given deadline for the site-switch? Shocker, I know. I'm just really excited about this domain and think that it will diversify my blogs.
On that note, do me a favor and change your bookmark to:
http://pulpfreethinker.tumblr.com/
... and let me know what you think!
So apparently there was an earthquake this morning...
Good to know I can sleep through them. NOT.
I'm going to apologize, yet again, for another great length of time that it's taken me to post again. I am working on transferring blog sites so that my posts can be more interactive and easy to access. Thanks for the cooperation (all five of my readers).
How about this? I hereby pledge to have my new site up and running by one week from today. Deal? Done.
I'll leave you with this in the meantime:
“A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.”
First of all, I was starting to worry that someone would call blog-services on me for my utter neglect and absence in its presence. Although there are simply no excuses, midterms may or may not be the death of me and writing about positivity was far from my to-do list. Now worries, though; today is a beautiful day and I'm in the mood for procrastinating.
Let's talk for a minute about how my phone hates me. Yes, I know hate is a strong word and a phone is an inanimate object, but still. It is constantly dropping my calls, switching me to roaming without warning, delivering texts days later then they were sent... it hates me. Where is this story going? Well I'll tell you.
I sought counseling for us: coverage-therapy, I call it. About an hour ago I decided to call my provider, paving our way to the road to recovery. They, however, did not seem to be as enthusiastic about their participation in the process, as right now I am listening to corny (yet catchy) hold music while they ignore me.
Maintaining this whole positivity get-up, I can honestly say that one good thing has come from this experience. That being my conversation with Jen. She saved me from 30 additional minutes of this godawful so-called music and took the time to chat with me for a while. We talked about Grey's Anatomy, her favorite Thai restaurant in LA, her son's college application process and even my recent midterm stressors. So there you have it. Call your phone provider's 800 number and make a friend.
Ok, I'm going to hang up now. I may be a positive person, but I positively cannot take a techno version of Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours."
One week. Two tests, an essay and a project. Four different classes. A 12-hour sorority retreat (consuming my Saturday, of all days). Do you know of what this recipe is in dire need? Positivity Week.
You heard me, self-proclaimed Positivity Week. What does this mean, exactly? Well, I'll tell you. Every time something looks grim, I start feeling stressed, overwhelmed, discouraged, etc. positivity week is there, requiring a glass-half-full mentality. Last Sunday, as I brainstormed my week of optimism, I began to like the idea so much that I decided to recruit my friends. Although their participation was a mix of mumbling, eye-rolling and sarcastic "I'm positive I hate Positivity Week" comments, they got over it and succumbed to forced cheeriness.
Forgot your book for Religion? No worries. You're neighbor was happy to share. The frozen yogurt machine is out of chocolate? Forget about it. That bag of peanut M & Ms was calling your name anyway. It starts a torrential downpour (in Southern California of all places) and you splash a puddle in your Uggs? You're over it. They were needing a good cleaning.
Moral of the story is not that being positive makes everything better or easier in any sense. It doesn't change the fact that you missed the lecture outline because you couldn't read over your neighbor's shoulder. It doesn't change the fact that you didn't get your chocolately-calcium for the day and it doesn't change the fact that your feet now look like raisons from being water-logged. It does, however, allow us to see life's curveballs through a different lens, a clearer lens.
So who's up for Positivity Semester?
College is the convention center for germs. Here's how it works:
Roommate gets sick.
The health center is a joke. Her visit consists of waiting two hours watching daytime soaps and synchronizing coughs with her new waiting room friends.
Therefore, roommate gives up on health center, leaving you to your only mechanism of self-defense: Purell-ing your hands more than Howie Mandel.
Outside of the dorm, a girl in your lecture class sneezes on your laptop (ew).
Water polo team (inevitably dirty), hoards the Kleenex by the exit.
Grab a bite to eat in the Caf and a congested cheerleader hands you a fork. Thanks, but no thanks.
Two days later...
Roommate back to her normal self. Bubbly, charismatic, energetic... ugh.
You? In the fetal position on your bed, popping cough drops and praying for a spontaneous visit from mom.
Germs suck. Pass me a glass of the freshly squeezed OJ, s'il vous plait.
Good dream. Cue alarm. Shower. Bowl of Puffins. Prepare for two hours of Augustine's Confessions... Yep, this folks is recipe for a bad case of the Mondays. With this mindset, my trek across campus at 9:50 AM is more or less tunnel-like. Yes, the sun looks absolutely beautiful on the ocean. Yes, there are people walking every which way around me. Yes, someone may or may not have shouted my name saying hello. I, however, am completely focused and ignorant of my surroundings. I proceed to respond to various text messages, go through the day's agenda and drown out the rest of the world.
After entering the classroom, I open my book, glance at the passage, pop a few bubbles of my gum and vaguely acknowledge the girl sitting a few seats away who begins the discussion. As she continues her reading, the class unsettles a little as she coughs her way through the last few lines. All of us "Monday-mourners" sit anxiously, not saying a word about her choking fit and wait for her to finish. The boy sitting next to her, on the other hand, hands her his cup of water and offers to read the rest.
Monday or not, we're living it. Make your day and someone else's a little brighter by kicking the self-aware ignorance that we've dunned for the first day of the work week and refresh.
I know, I know. I've been a slacker to the extreme on this whole resolution deal. But seriously, a college student blogging everyday? It was inevitable to fail. So quit the blog and give in to failure? That'd be a "no, sir." For when you can't play the game, change the rules.
RESOLUTION RULES REVAMPED:
Write in blog once a week. Sounds reasonable, right? That way there is an entire week of things I can write about AND I am more likely to actually write anything at all.
Now for today's fresh squeeze... Last night, a few friends and I went on an adventure around town. Basically, we didn't want to go back to campus and didn't have enough energy to go to another party and therefore channeled our Saturday-night-enthusiasm onto finding a snack. After riding the PCH both directions for a few hours in search for the tasty tidbit, we made our way through the canyon. Windows down, music up and base pounding through the backseat, we were caught off guard when a trail of ambulances, fire trucks, police cars, etc. came into view. The officer slowed us down, directed us to the passing lane and told us that a car had gone off the cliff into the canyon. We were horrified. What if it was one of our friends? What if it was a student from campus? What if it was a family on their way back home?
Our car grew silent. Sometimes, we get going so fast and lose sight of the fact that life is breakable. Although you'll never get anywhere in bubble wrap, we need to take the time to step back and remember the beauty of life's fragility, because every second is a gift.
Hello all (as in all four of you who read this)!
I apologize for no post yesterday, as I was en route back to campus for second semester and then I spent a little over two hours unpacking and putting everything away in my empty suite. I'm pretty sure I am one of very few people who got in yesterday rather than today, so it was really quiet and lonely in my return.
Last night, as I sat in solitude with plenty of time to reflect, I think I came to a pretty valid conclusion about what it means to be in college. For me, I came from a very close family. We've been through our fair share of series of unfortunate events and petty arguments, but we legitimately enjoy being with one another, and that made leaving them to go to college extremely difficult. Luckily for me, I made lifelong friends within the first weeks of school. I'm not sure if that is due to the unusually friendly school atmosphere to which I belong or if my quickly-formed, lasting friendships are a reflection of my own personality; either way, I created a home away from home.
Going back home for break l was overwhelmed with excitement to be with my parents and sisters, to lie on my couch all morning perusing through recorded trash TV on DVR, eating home-cooked meals and taking a bath (rather than cramped shower) for the first time since I'd left home. At the same time, however, I missed the warm Pacific breezes that campus brought me, staying up all night laughing with my suite-mates and especially the company of my new, closest friends. I've decided that although God has blessed me with two unbelievable environments and communities, this blessing has it's strings. From now on, I'm always going to be missing some component of my other world. Hannah Montana was really onto something with that "best of both worlds" nonsense (and yes, I just made a Hannah Montana reference. Don't judge, I have an 8-year-old sister.).
As for right now, I'd really appreciate some more livelihood on campus, because I am in desperate need of a fresh squeeze from my college family.
You know who your best friends are when...
1) they quote Bruce Jenner from an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians that you coincidently watched earlier that day.
2) they eat your gluten free brownies and don't complain that they taste like chocolate sponges (well, give or take a few snide comments).
3) they are the only person to comment on your triple dog daring previous post.
Back to school tomorrow. Au revoir mounds of snow, good food and DVR and bonjour to Augustine's Confessions, sub par caf food and the beautifully blue Pacific ocean. Cue Bittersweet Symphony.
The cold weather has sucked all of the creativity out of me. Therefore I have nothing to write about without sounding like the couch potato today has made of me.
If you anyone is even reading this then I dare you to comment. Not just dare actually... I triple dog dare you.
My parents never log out of their Amazon account on our family computer. Thus, my sister buys cartfuls of random and useless goodies: cliche teenage novels, movies and seasons of shows that she has never watched in her life on dvd. Granted, in the end she repays my parents (or at least she says she does), but her packages come none the less. This week's arrival? Season one of the Showtime mega-hit, Weeds. Classy, I know. Then again, seeing as how blizzard number four confined me to my home, I decided to pop a squat on the couch, bowl of chili in hand and see what all the buzz was about.
Consensus? Let's just say my similar suburban setting is making me a skeptic about possible side-jobs for all neighborhood housewives. Caution to all at future bake sales, if you know what I mean.
I love being in college. While I sat in my pajamas, watching the Today show and eating a bowl of my all-time favorite cereal, my sisters grabbed their Chewy bars and threw on their backpacks, scrambling out the door on their way to school. My plans for the day? Well, whenever I decide to get dressed and ready, my mom and I have a leisurely day in KC planned. Take that my K-12 kiddos!
Side note: It's 4 degrees outside. That's way too cold for words.
Cute old couples. You know exactly who I'm talking about. They cut each other's meat at dinner, only buy something if it comes in a pair and they pretend not to care when the other's dentures sit on the countertop. They hold hands in public and find themselves living in the "good old days" more often than the real world. They bicker off and on, but simply because they care so much about one another, and they find the humor in their aging. Meet my grandparents. 61 years of marriage. 61 years of lazy Sunday pillow talks. 61 years of splitting the morning paper and finding each other's glasses in order to read it. 61 years of finishing each other's sentences and driving the other crazy. My grandparents came over for dinner last night and their 61 years came with them.
Pat: Jack, where are your gloves?
Jack: I got 'em.
Pat: Where?
Jack: In my pockets
Pat: You should put them on... and don't you want a scarf?
Jack: No.
Pat: But Jack, your neck is going to get cold. Put up your collar or something.
Jack: No.
Pat: (dramatic, deep sigh) You're not a smart man, Jack. I love you, but you're not all there sometimes.
Jack: Thanks sweetie. Love you too.
They move into a retirement community this week and the loss of independence is really difficult on both of them. Knowing that they're in this together, however, is the only thing making this transition possible. God bless the cute old couple, they deserve a fresh squeeze.
So, here's the deal. This blog (more or less a small window into the randomness that is my life) falls into the category of 2010's to-dos. Yes, you got me, welcome to my New Year's Resolution. While three fourths of the world is vowing to nix the twinkies and chocolate, I happen to respect my taste buds too much and therefore choose not to deprive them. Thus, the blog.
Seeing how I'm a college student and, between the weekend what-nots and ungodly amounts of work my schedule demands, the sane person would ask, "Why add this to the plate?" Two reasons, really. 1) Procrastination and 2) Why not? Probably not pageant-worthy answers, but at least I'm honest.
My mom keeps yelling something from the other room. Every time I respond, however, she tells me that she wasn't talking to me. She's talking to my dog. Go figure.
Well, I do believe that I have a sudoku calling my name and a day to get started. So I'll leave you all to your glass of the fresh squeezed stuff, and get crackin on the morning paper.
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