refugee raft I ride in life

so.  This week, I feel like I have definitely realized that I cannot prolong thinking about the future any longer.  I want the future to come, the house, the job, the kids( yes, kids. I know. little Me's running around and knowing me, I will go crazy at some point), the love, the everything...but right now, I have no plan whatsoever to get there.  I feel helpless, and when I feel helpless, I either get more driven, or I think about all the mistakes I have made up to this point to feel this helpless.  The first choice of course is the one that I usually want to come out, but the second one, where I hyper-analyze my life, is the one that usually does.  I looked at changing majors, I looked at me double majoring, I looked at the semester I went stupid ( or not as good as I am and had to take classes again...), I looked at all that stuff that has lead me to the stupid situation I am in now with school.  

Then, looking at my life, I always seem to pause on all the fun I had, and how many people I came in contact with, either in a job, at parties, or just everything in between.  I have realized that I think I knew about 1/4 of the population of FSU, and of that 1/4, I probably maintained a friendship with 1/16, and then of that "friendship", I probably was really good friends with 1/100, an.. yeah. it gets smaller from there, simply emphasizing my point that I am a hard person to really get to know, and for those of you ( you know who you are) who got to that point, I applaud you.  

This year is also my 5 year HS reunion, which is supposed to take place in Vegas on July 4th??? I am not sure of the exact date, but it is soo crazy to think that 5 years ago, I thought "damn, I can take over the fucking world if I wanted to.. I am out of high school!".  Now all I want to do is go back and feel the stress and then camaraderie that I had with my school mates. I miss Ryan and his crazy outings, I miss Mirinissa and our talks and walks and living at the BX, I miss senior year, with my sexy/crazy boys in the car ( purple beast), but mostly I miss knowing that everyone I knew was in the same boat, and that we were all basically going to get through it because not graduating high school.. not happening.  I guess it just makes me thing of the life stages that everyone is now in, weather its grad school, or ministry, or having babies, or whatever job that they have, and realizing that we aren't in the same boat anymore.

In other news, I was looking at Facebook today, and I came across this article.

This just is crazy stupid high of a score. I really didn't know you could GET a score like that. Stupid.   Also in pop culture, I think this movie is very applicable to what I am talking about.

songs about...amazing

Oren Lavie - Her morning elegance from Maria Blinkova on Vimeo.

Drunk and then...

Last night, I got drunk. Not in the bad way where you don't remember anything and you wake up with a guy you don't know in a place you don't know realizing you have done something you definitely know. No. This was the drunk where I get home, feel nauseated, and then wake up and wishing my body was not in the pain it was, and realize that some of this pain, is caused by my new sneak attack menstrual cycle, and the other half of the pain is caused by my head exploding because of dehydration.

After a nice toast and water combo, I felt way better, and decided the next thing I needed was a chai latte at Red Eye Coffee. :) Drank that up in about 4 seconds. I needed that extra shot of caffeine.

Joe and I then took off in his car for an adventure of the driving sorts, because that's how we roll ( pun intended), and went to follow the newly finished Orange ave. road to wherever it took us. Amazingly, it took us to the biggest houses either one of us has ever seen in the Southwood subdivision. We are talking possibly 6 bedroom monsters. Maybe more. We thought that there should have been a notice saying watch out for rich people.

After thoroughly getting lost ( and having fun doing just that), we found some high schools, and I found my nausiated state getting more and more of a constant. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, we were in front of Beef o' Bradys.

Obviously, a piece of toast and water might be good for the common prisoner, but apparently my belly wants more than that after a night of drinking, and so we ate some amazing sandwiches, and I downed about a gallon of water.

Now, this is where we come in contact with possibly the most bad-ass sport known to colleges, Lacrosse. Today just happens to be the Lacrosse championships, Cornell Vs. Syracuse. Cornell hasn't won any sports title since 1977. Syracuse has won 10 straight titles in Lacrosse. BEST GAME EVER. It was my first time really getting into a sport to yell at it, and scream when people missed shots, and I found out that people can run over other players ( literally RUN OVER), and whack other players with sticks in the face, watch the video if you don't believe me...
Crazy day, thank god for holidays.

Washings and cleanings

Well, as today is just a lazy day number 2 on my 3 day weekend, this is also day 2 on my "doing things I should have been doing a lot lately and am too lazy/entertained by other things to be doing them". This list of things which include favorites like scrubbing the bathroom, also includes laundry. Ugh. Laundry.

Laundry usually isn't something that people who aren't super poor and live in place that has easy access to a machine would whine about, but since I am super poor, and I don't live within walking distance to any Laundromat facility, it is an arduous duty of scouring parking spots and hunting loose change in the sofa to try to get the pants that now stand up on its own clean at last.

Luckily, I have 3 days to do a month’s worth of laundry, and so the task is not as daunting nor excruciatingly boring provided you bring the right book ( mine is The Diviners, which is a 567 episodic mind explosion in an not so good way, but definitely makes time pass) Today was dark bottoms and some towels. Yesterday was light bottoms and underwear, tomorrow are tops; god I am so bad at laundry.

I like going to this cute place called the Laundry Basket, which attracted me not only for its cute title and its relative proximity to TCBY and an interesting hair salon which the owners husband is always outside fixing motorbikes, but also for the fact that it is small, out of the way, and generally cheap and quiet. I like places like this, because the people who go to them are always the offbeat people who are either;

The owners friends and long time customers,
Poor people who live behind the store and need to walk somewhere to wash their 3 shirts and 4 pants,
Offbeat people looking for some tranquility during a mundane task.

Watching the people interact and do laundry, most of who were in their Sunday church clothing was definitely something to do when trying to get through my epic novel.

Since I did so well at the chores needing to be done, I thought, why not, go to Old Navy, treat yourself to some new summer shirts since all of my summer shirts were eaten by my former cat. I get in the store, and realize that there are retarded good sales ( we are talking tanktops for 5 dollars in a plethora of colors, not just neon yellow and indiscript color brown/green. ) So I bought a few, and came home, to realize, that I just bought new clothes, that have to be cleaned.
Bummer.

states of being

Walking around today slowly sipping my Irish coffee, I realized that at this point in my life, I am exactly happy. I am not gleeful and nauseating to anyone who happens to ask how my day is going, and I am not a melancholy or bitter lady who knows more than you and seems to talk about my knowledge and the lack of luck every chance I get. I am simply and exactly happy.
So what does happy entail for someone who is not done with college, is usually broke, and is about as hairbrained as one can be without being labeled blonde? Well, I will tell you that it definately has to do with my boyfriend, who makes me realize that even though I am not barbie, I am still frickin amazing, and that I am quite entertaining in my own right. My happy state also has to deal with my friends being hilariously well-timed and aptly placed in moments of my life.

Whirlwind weekend

Alright. I give up. I am going to come out and say it, and I know a lot of people have thought that I would have said it a long time ago, but I just finally have had enough of the hiding, and so I am going to say it now.
I am crazy.
Heh. Yeah. No one react to harshly to these words, I know they come out of left field ( the best field) but try to take this news in stride.

Hahaha. Ok. I'm sorry, but I was in a puckish mood there for a bit, and now I can get over it, and move on with my real topic, my weekend.

On Friday, I went out with one of my coworkers who is a fellow blogger (read it here) to go see Angels and Deamons. I thought that even though they didn't stick exactly to the book plot, and omitted the "bad guy" in lieu of another bad guy, I think that the pacing, the great score, and the cinematography was soo good that I give it a 7. It definately kept me entertained and told the whole story, so thats always what a movie aims to do, and this one did not fall short.
After the movie, I was still in a sociable mood, because I didn't want to be alone this weekend and bored, so I called an old friend and went to St. Mikes Pub. Now, for those of you who read this and are NOT from the Tallahassee area, this pub has approxamately 40 feet of space in which to cram as many beers as possible in, as well as the token pub chairs and the sort. I went to the bartender to try to order my beer, but found I was not alone ( about 100 people were there), and waited my turn. Since my friend and I were meeting there, I finally got up the the bar and ordered two of my beer, the Optimator. Its a nice sweet beer, and between 10 and 11 percent alcohol. Not too shabby by beer standards.
We meet up, and I give my friend the beer, and we try to squeeze our way to an area that isn't too loud that has an ashtray ( friend is a smoker). As luck would have it, we found a little table, and sat down and talked and laughed and drank our beers in happy company, and I realized how good it was to just talk to people, and to observe a Friday night out where most of the people didn't know who I was. It was really nice.
Of course, after a beer like that, I am ready to go home because I have somehow turned into old mother hubbard and go to bed pretty early. Must be my old age ( 23.. heh).

Saturday, I was ready to go and do things that included caber tossing and haggis... you guessed it, the Scottish Highlander games and Celtic Festival!! but, mother nature was not in an agreeable mood for me to go, because as soon as I pulled on my best looking kilt and knee high socks, it started pouring. Now, I know this should not stop a girl who looks like me, to go see guys who can throw logs 30 feet, but I was still a little wary, and decided against it. I got homework done though, and that is always a good thing.
Later that night, I went over to my couple friends house for some drinks, talking, and just a fun time playing games and not caring about anything. As the hours ware on, and after I learn how to play a game called Munchkin... ( don't ask.. its pretty nerdy), the conversation turned to men and women, and how relationships are based off of one simple yet hard to stick by fact, and that is complete honesty. Honesty about your wants and needs in the relationship, honesty about what your thinking about the other person... just honesty. I realized quickly that this particular group of friends had different opinions about how honest "real honesty" was, and how easy it was for them to tell the other person they were with how they feel... it made me take a step back at myself, and analyze my relationships in the past. Not in a "oh wow, I was a bitch" kind of way, but more of a "wow, I didn't tell this person what I felt, and they probably wanted _____ instead of what I gave them," kind of thing. We live, we learn, we carry on.
Getting home at 5:30 put me in bed, but not before thinking about what my boyfriend was doing at that moment because it was raining hard where I was, and I was hoping that wherever he was, either in a tent or out driving, he was not in this storm.

Sunday, was almost a wash day until later in the night. I woke up at 1:30 PM, and for going to bed when I did, I didn't feel like I was doing any excessive sleeping. I made myself breakfast, and then looked online for some things to get for fathers day. Then I wrote some notes from my homework, and then decided to go out shopping to see if I could find anything else for some birthdays and fathers days... I did not find anything for them, but wanted to buy about 400 things for me. Yay for no money and a moral compass that does not allow me to buy things for no reason. Stupid compass.
After I got home, I found this awesome site that lets you build your own font with your handwriting. YourFonts allows you to write on a template, and then see your handwriting as a font for free, and for not a lot of money, pay to download it to use on your computer. How awesome is that??? The pic obviously shows my font.. I like it.
Then a friend came over, and we talked, played some wicked awesome Guitar Hero, and then caught the later showing of 17Again with Zac Effron. He is super hot, and the movie is super cute. I liked the story alot, and the soundtrack was pretty good for a teenagery movie, even though the girls who were "high school girls" were total sluts. Both my friend and I agreed that we were nothing like that in High school, but we might be if Zac went to our school.... Guilty.

In reflection, I realize that this is not my usual post, and that I should have been comparing the songs I have recently discovered with the ones I used to love, or the new rock climbing route that I dominate at, or something like that, but I just don't have it in me tonight, and I wanted to get at least one normal post out before I become one of the blogs that just has random crap that isn't personal, and has no story to it.
I mean, that's what we have right, an outlet to be personal yet tell a story or a side of ourselves that people might connect to, to read? I hope so.

are you on them?

Working where I work, I come across some interesting stories regarding the reasons behind drug use.  Some of the reasons are not very solidly thought out, such as " my husband thought these would make me less crazy", and others are reasons that would make even the most staunch opponent of drug use consider taking them.  

"The drugs make all the thoughts in my head go at a speed that makes sense" or the ever popular " I can finally relax and not look or act stressed all the time".   

All of these reasons are reasons people take drugs. Some take drugs to be cool, some to be good at things, others to escape the world for a bit, and then there are the select few people who just take drugs just to take drugs...

I don't take any drugs, though the people who know me probably would cite that I drink coffee on a daily basis.... but I do that for taste honestly. I could find caffine in a lot of things and eat/drink them to get that caffine, but I don't.  Other friends would say that maybe if I were on drugs, I might be a (Insert adjetive here) person.   I really dont like altering myself to make me fit any more into society.  I feel that the unique "quirky" personality makes me attractive to a lot of people, and while I don't really know anyone who hates me, I am sure that if they do, its most likely because of my personality...but I know it is not my altered personality, it is simply me.

the difference on pages

Yesterday, I went to Target to try to peruse the aisles for something to jump out as a good birthday gift for my boyfriend. Nothing did, but in my wanderings, I went over to my standby, the magazine rack. Now, just so we dont get ahead of ourselves, I absolutely loathe the fact that "women magazines" have to deal with pregnancy, weddings, hair styles, sex, and fashion. You go over to the "men magazines", and all of a sudden, you get things like, how to take care of yourselves, how to grow your own garden, and political things you need to know to be informed citizens.

Now, I want something that is similar to GQ for women. Right now, GQ is my all time favorite mens magazine. Its sharp, a little crass, very visually stimulating, and all together stylishly sexy.
Do you know of a womens magazine that has all that? I can think of several different magazines doing this, Real Simple can tell you how to grow your own garden, and how to buy a raincoat under 30 dollars, and vogue can tell you how to do your hair for this falls runway show, but I don't know of any womens magazines that tell you " what to expect in '09s politics" .. really???

Why the gender difference? Ergh. I want a magazine that is like vanity fair plus glamour plus real simple put together without having to pay 20 dollars for all three.

on a funky high

So I am on a funny mood rollercoaster these past few days....

sometimes I feel like I could roll around in the grass, and just while away the hours laughing and being so much like a child.

Other times, I feel amazing overwhelmed and crushed by the world around me. Maybe too many anxious thoughts crossing my mind, probably all of them are fake worries, but who has time to discern the fake from the real worries anymore?

I guess I am not as bad off as some of my friends. One of my friends has no job, another one lost his love, and yet another one is almost constantly putting one foot in the wrong direction and wondering what went wrong.

I have not lost my job, or my love, and as far as I can see, I have both feet facing the same direction.. so I think.

I wish I had the freedom to do all the things I thought I had time to do... where do these "free people" work, and can I get a job there right now? I want to be free enough to be able to take a few weeks off and see India, start working on my photography, buy a house, go river rafting ( again), ... oh so many things.

"oh the places you'll go.."

thinking about average

Today I felt average and old.

Not old in the sense that I was aging faster than normal, but in a context to which my habits and routines felt antiquated and out dated.

I woke up wrapped in the encompassing arms of my boyfriend, warmed by his breathing, and comfortably safe. I was invisible to the outside and for a few seconds, that is all that I wanted. Then the buzzing came. First low and far away, like a siren of a far away street. Then the sound grew and pierced my quiet bubble. Stirring, my boyfriend turned his head to the noise, and cursed aloud at the flashing red and blue lights that constitutes my alarm. I put out my arm to hit it, smack it, make it cease, yet I was a few inches away. I resigned to the fact that unless I got out of bed, I would never turn it off.

Once out of bed, out of the warm and safe embrace of my boyfriend, I put on slippers, a robe, and shuffled across my room to turn off the horrible machine. Once off, my senses seemed to overcompensate for a flash of a second and all the world was a thunder of silence. My eyes squinted at the bright light that seemed to find the smallest crack to break the darkness of my room. My nose smelled the air, and realized that I was at least coherent enough last night to turn on the coffee pot.

Turning around, I realized that my boyfriend was no longer in my bed, and that I was alone in my room. Quickly shedding my robe and slippers, I put on clothes, and went into the kitchen to pour two Irish coffees which I knew I would need to get me through the rest of my day.

This whole morning, from every waking moment of it, could have been experienced by any woman with a boyfriend from the last 15 years, and I could have been approxamately 50 years older and had the same morning as well. In retrospect, I think that every routine is a bunch of your averages. It is an average morning, so you do your average thing, and hope for an average reaction to these things, noting that maybe something horrible/ excellent will happen, but keeping that note to yourself and not adjusting your routine to make room for either extreme.