Literally.

When people misuse the word literal, it literally makes my head spin. 

WRONG. See what I did there? I'm sure that other people rant about my word choices at times, but this is just one word that I could write a letter about. I don't know where I would send the letter. I'm sure Morgan Freeman would share in my plight.

Oh dear. I looked it up in the dictionary...and due to modernized, hipster circumstances, the definition has completely changed. *le sigh* (I don't really know where I got that. How does one sigh in French? Probably with excessive drama and phlegmatic effects). 

Pliers with a Purpose

Yesterday, I found a pair of pliers at my parent's house. Now, normally, I would ask myself if I cared and my self would answer, "...No. Why are you even asking yourself that question?" (which gets a little confusing when your own self starts talking to yourself. Just stay with me). At any rate, I did care. Because it was actually a pair of multi-purpose pliers, complete with several blades and what looked to be a nail file...though it probably does something different entirely, such as scrubbing off the stain on that plate that you really should have washed the night before, or perhaps something more manly like rubbing off a beaver's nose (I don't know. I don't know what they do all day. Men, that is).
I asked my dad if I could have them, expecting him to say something like, "don't be a cotton-headed ninny-muggins." but he said I could have them. I held it in my hands, testing the weight and durability and, less importantly, the fact that I could make it stand by itself. What an interesting contraption. Someone who invented a pair of pliers with several blades on it must have had led a pretty adventurous life, or perhaps lived on an island where he had to change a lot of tires.

So I got me to wondering.

How many purposes can a multi-purpose pair of pliers actually have?

My mom had a go at it.

"You could use it to pluck your nose hairs."

Tempting, oh cherished parent of mine. But I'll pass. I think I have come up with a list that I may or may not use them for:

1. Pull up your socks when you're wearing boots.
2. Bring it with you to restaurants in case they've run out of silverware. I'm sure this happens a lot.
3. Opening up the stupid child-proof things that have been stupidly invented for adults that just need some peace of mind or a pickle.
4. Instead of trying to open cereal bag and ripping it everywhere and from that point on having your cereal forever getting trapped in the black hole that is the box.......cut it with a knife.
5. When your friend has something in their teeth? Cut it with a knife.
6. Thread on your shirt that could go around the world twice? Cut it with a knife. (or just buy a new shirt. Unless it's your favorite shirt that's falling apart. If it is....it's time to let go).
7. When your washing machine is broken, hold the pliers and stare longingly into the pit that is your machine, and maybe by simply holding them you'll be a better repairman. Or wasting your time, depending on if the washing machine is half empty or half full.
8. Pull out all of the blades and pretend you're Wolverine.

So, actually, for being a practical tool.....

I have no idea what I'm going to use it for.

But I still feel pretty awesome with it in my purse. And one of these days someone is going to be carrying a jar of pickles in the park and they're going to say, "golly. Wish I had a multi-purpose pair of pliers to open these with. Or maybe just a hug." And I'll jump out from behind a tree like Wolverine and they'll have a heart attack and die and I'll get all of their pickles.

I never said it would end happily. I just said it would serve a purpose.

Apple and orange

A few weeks ago, I joined the conformity that is the iPhone. As a pro-PC user, I was against anything Apple...but I just couldn't resist. The tantalizing idea of more things to drop and break was simply too much to handle. Speaking of fruit...

I love the color orange. In fact, speaking of Apple, I got an iPhone case that is bright orange...in fact, it's my favorite color.

I really only had to include something about orange so that I could have a catchy title. If you didn't understand the title, I would like to point out the similarities between that and the phrase, "apples and oranges." There is nothing inherently applicable between that phrase and my title...I just felt like blogging my feelings to the world today.

On a side note, did you know Ryan Gosling's in a band? My friend just showed me today.

Bebe (Beebee) and other great pets

I'm feeling rather nostalgic today, so eat your heart out. (Where do people get these phrases?! Eat your heart out?! I'm not quite sure what would ever possess you to do such a thing, or why I even suggested it, but there it is).

I am spending a few weeks in Missouri with my grandparents. One of my favorite parts of visiting them is seeing their Cockatiel, Bebe. Yesterday morning, however, I noticed her cage wasn't sitting in it's normal spot. I was aghast. "Where's Bebe?" I questioned my grandma. "Bebes been gone for about a year now, Bekah! You knew that." I tried to remember anyone ever telling me this. We hadn't been to our grandparents for over a year, so I chalked my misinformation up to this. I felt a sense of loss come over me. Many people would probably say she was just a bird, but Bebe wasn't just any old bird. I just couldn't believe it.

Grandma and grandpa had had Bebe for about 25 years (she was older than I was!) Bebe wasn't a particularly lovable bird; she loved grandpa, tolerated grandma, and absolutely hated the rest of us. But she was just so great. I loved watching her hop around her cage. She had a mirror hanging from one bar, and she would always watch herself curiously, as if the "other bird" in her cage would do something strange or unnerving. She had a fun whistle; it wasn't annoying or anything, like a lot of birds tend to be. When my siblings and I were younger and Bebe was in her prime, grandpa would let her out of her cage, and she would fly circles around the house, much to our delight, and would finally settle on grandpa's shoulder. I think one of the reasons I loved her so much was because grandpa did. He would talk quietly to her, and it was as if he were the only person in the world Bebe would listen to.

Grandpa has always had a way with animals. Before our beloved dog Mickey passed away, he would always take long walks with her and you would look out the window and watch him talk to her and pet her, and you wouldn't want to go out and disturb the world they shared, just the two of them. Mickey was the best dog in the world. There are a lot of pretty great dogs out there, to be sure, but Mickey was the best. She was small for a German Shepherd, but what she may have lacked in size she certainly didn't lack in heart. Mickey was somewhat obedient; she knew how to shake and sit but that was about the extent of games she'd allow. Playing fetch with her was a joke; it was more a game of keep-away than anything. I figured out her system though. I would take two sticks outside. I threw one, and then when she brought it back, I would pull the other one out. Suddenly, the stick I now held in my hand was priceless, and the stick she had was junk, not fit to be thrown or gnawed. I threw my stick, and she charged after it, leaving her old stick forgotten on the ground. I would then pick this one up, and our game repeated. It took a few years for her to figure out my game.


Another great pet was Grunty, our Guinea Pig. Grunty was extremely obese and didn't really do much. One Christmas we had brought him to our grandparent's house. One morning we woke up, and were surprised to find little baby Gruntys. I guess there was a reason for Grunty's obesity...Or should I say Gruntina? We all had quite the shock and laugh about a great petcapade.

A final pet I will mention is our cat Oreo. Oreo has been around for about 12 years; we had bought her as a kitten around the same time as we bought our puppy Mickey. Oreo has outlasted every single cat we've ever owned, and I attribute this to her fiesty and almost feral spirit. I will be honest: I am not a big fan of cats. I think they're selfish creatures. But I have a grudging respect for Oreo. She takes care of herself and could definitely hold her own in a bar fight. When Mickey died, Oreo wasn't quite sure what to do. She has come down to the house ever since, and sits in front of the door. I think she truly misses her weird friend that chased her.

We have had many pets throughout our childhood, but these few deserve the trophy.

Tebowing

I have decided, among other things (such as, "to follow Jesus, no turning back"), that I am going to marry Tim Tebow.

Now. I know what you're thinking. That there are so many other women out there that have vowed the exact same thing. But I would like to point out some differences between me and those women.

Reasons Why I Will Marry Tim Tebow:

1. Our parents were both missionaries.
2. We're both left-handed. Might not be a fact, but he might as well be.
3. ...we both throw a football left-handed.
4. We both love Jesus.
5. We both like to win.
6. We both love football.
7. I have a Broncos sweater.

It's obviously a match made in Heaven.

In all seriousness, though, I have been reading Tim Tebow's biography, "Through my Eyes". I'm finding that though he's not the best of writers, his heart for God is so clear and obvious. Even when I watch Tebow on national TV or read articles about him, he has no qualms about professing his faith in his precious and beloved Savior. It made me start to think. We all have heard the sermon about your actions speaking louder than your words, that the fruit describes the tree, etc. But it's so profoundly true. I think about my interactions with people on a daily basis; at work, school, even at home. It makes me ashamed and convicted. When I am interacting with those that I know do not love Jesus or are not following Him, why am I not sharing with them every single chance I get? My actions should scream "LORD!" louder than my words, and my words should follow it up.

 I want to make an apparent change in my life. I don't want people to be surprised when they find out I'm a follower of Christ. But I think one thing I need to do is learn to love. I think about all the people in my life that have upset me or angered me. We think we know how to truly love everyone, but it is such an incredibly hard thing to actually do. I can think of many people that I can't fathom loving. And that's where I need to begin.
I've recently been looking at these people in a new light. That God created them, just like He created me, and He loves them unconditionally. So...what's my excuse?

I haven't blogged in a while, so I felt the need to write something warm and gracious...

...Good gracious it's warm in here. (Victor Borge wit).

Flies are one of my biggest pet peeves. And I don't just mean the small ones. I'm talking about those huge ones that fly around and sound like miniature aircraft carriers. They're so fat and gross. I want them to run into the wall and die a slow and fatful death. Of all God's creation, I just can barely tolerate bugs.

Even butterflies.

Yeah, I said it.

Butterflies give me the creeps. Have you ever looked really close at one? They look like they're sucking the brains out of flowers. I can just hear women around the world gasping, holding hands to fluttering hearts. "Butterflies, Bekah?! My stars. Their delicate wings of supernatural beauty! How could you say such slanderous things?"

[It's a good thing fat flies are so slow. I killed him. The fly, that is].

What I have to say is this. Yes, butterflies are pretty fromest afareth. But have you ever been in a swarm (hive? Murder? Herd?) of butterflies? They make it look pretty in the movies. But I've worn bright pink shirts out in the wilderness and let me tell you...it quickens the heart a bit.

I also have a marginal discomfort with large swarms of birds. I was never the same after seeing the movie "the Birds" in 10th grade. A scarring film.

[Okay. I seriously killed that fly, and now there's another one. It's like the mythical Hydra; except when you kill one fly, a gatrillion take it's place. Messy].

I didn't really have a point to any of this.

Bugs are gross. I don't think there will be bugs in Heaven. And if there are, there will be such things like Heavenly mosquitoes. They will spit out rainbows or something.

Philoso-FIN (see what I did there? Mixed subjects here), and many other quandaries.

Well. I got my first quiz back in Philosophy. As soon as I saw it, I dreaded telling my mother...I knew she'd manage to make a point on how she told me I should have taken a math class instead.

I was TOLD by my advisor that art students could take Intro to Moral Philosophy as a math credit. It sounded so simple; so easy. I figured I would just learn the material and tune out for the most part, as I generally disagree with most of the opinions stated anyway...

Math for art students. PFT. I had forgotten that half of my brain even worked...

I've also decided that it's weird when people say you're acting like an animal. Urban dictionary defines the term "animalistic" as:

acting like an animal or beast. acting crazy. But I ask you this: do animals kill their own? No. Animals are instinctive creatures. They do exactly what they were made to do. They take care of their own. If anything, we should be saying "you're being humanistic." Or "peopleistic".  How crazy is crazy, anyway? I've seen some pretty crazy people... I also want to know why Police radar detectors (that you can buy pretty easily) are not illegal. Riddle me this. Have you ever had that awkward moment when you see someone you know and you wave but they don't wave back? Or when you both have obviously seen each other, but you avoid eye contact and pretend to texts whilst the other does the same? Or...you say the same thing at the same time? "Hey how's it going?" Did that today. Exact same time. On a scale of one to awkward I'd give it a 62.786. Today, a grasshopper attacked my face in my car while I was driving. Needless to say, I was NOT happy with it. I pulled over and when it finally flew outside I prayed that a car would run it over and it would melt to death. I've been off coffee for a week now, and I already feel like I'm detoxing. I need it. I crave it.  Yes, I think abortion is wrong. Yes, I still sometimes catch myself thinking they're saying "Youth-in-Asia". No, I have no concept of politics and don't really intend to start studying such things at a scholarly level. Yes, my professor reminds me of Mr. Frederickson from "UP". There. "And that's my new philosophy!" You're welcome for that reference. Have you ever stared at a word for so long that it starts looking really weird? And you keep saying it over and over again, then all of a sudden the feeling's gone. And it's just a word again. Like, deja word. A writer on crack might know what I'm talking about.  I really, really need some coffee.

Youth in Asia and such savory concepts.

I had forgotten my password; it's been that long since I've blogged.

This semester I am taking French I, Concert Choir, Philosophy and Photography.  One week down, approximately 12,346.49 more to go.

I am also considering learning to cook, among other great scholarly pursuits. Now, my idea of learning to cook would be different than yours. MY idea of learning would be not burning Ramen Noodles. My mom denies it to my face in order to protect my feelings, but she, as well as the part of the house that still has functioning nostrils, knows that I cannot cook. "I have a disconnect of the-brain-to-the-hands" is my personal belief. Perhaps a disconnect of the brain to the brain.

Speaking of brain disconnection...

The other day in Philosophy, my professor was going over the topics we would be discussing over the semester, one of them being Euthanasia. Now. I have heard of this awful thing before...however, I had never really heard exactly what Euthanasia was. So for about a year, I had thought people were saying "Youth in Asia". I couldn't understand why such a noble cause was such a big controversy, and why many wanted young Asian children to be neglected.

...

I really honestly believe God gets a chuckle out of watching us pathetic humans attempt to be geniuses.

Celebrating mediocrity with Dora.

As I was babysitting the other night, I reflected on the ingenuity of Dora the Explorer. The girls were absolutely enthralled. I, on the other hand, was rather skeptical. I'm just going to lay it out here for you. 


1. The Map. As far as creative theme songs go, I think someone was a little lazy in the idea room. In case you haven't heard the Map song, here's how it goes. It gets a little tricky in the bridge, so watch out for that.


"I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm  the map, I'M THE MAP!!!!"


Poets couldn't have lyricized this any better. But in all sarcasm, I felt like I had heard the second line of the song before. And the third. It was like deja vu...about deja vu. Or Inception of a song. I don't care how you want to look at it. It was just...wrong.
After the Map(in case you didn't get his name from the first verse...or was it the chorus?) goes over the places Dora will go in order to save some poor animal about a gazillion times, Dora decides to reiterate it a few more times for you. I don't know if you've heard Brian Regan do this bit, but after watching it, I realized just how true it was. Mediocrity at its best.


Here's the deal.


I want the Map. Not just a Map. THE Map. Except instead of telling me exactly how to get somewhere in the course of just a few landmarks-though doubling as a GPS system would be rather handy-it would tell me what to do in life. This is all strictly hypothetical, of course. God is your GPS. 


2. Dora the Explorer doesn't rhyme. And since it's all about Spanish...wouldn't it make more sense to make her name Dora the Explora?!! Killing two pickles with one turtle, I always say.


3. Okay here's a positive. Teaching the ninos how to speak some espanol. When Dora would excitedly exclaim, "Donde esta?!" I found myself yelling "Es alli!!!!!!!" (I barely pulled through with an A in Spanish class. The only word I really understood and related with was siesta. And fiesta. And nachos). 


4. Swiper. I wish that every robber and villian could be stopped by simply saying, "Robber no robbing!" And he would just snap and say, "aw man!" And walk away. Sadly, this is the culture that is being ingrained into children's minds. 


5. Dora gets to go freaking everywhere. I want adventures like her.


6. Diego. I don't...really know what to say about this kid. He talks to animals. It's like this show is Maya and Miguel in the pre-adolescent stages. (And if you don't know who these wonderful twins are...you are missing some high quality television).


7. Backpack. Refer to #1.


All biting wit and sarcasm aside...it's a great show. I suppose I'm just too literal a person to take Dora the ExplorA seriously. Now...to find the Map...

What I've learned.

At request, I am going to write a post about what I have learned from the Facebook quarantine. 


1. I am so much more productive. It was crazy how much more I was able to get done during the hour/s I would have spent surfing through hundreds of pictures and thinking of seemingly brilliant statuses. I was tempted once or twice to go to Facebook, but I would instead check my email or try to get a task done that was menial but I felt so much better once it was done.


2. I didn't know what was going on sometimes...but I was okay with it. It amazes me how much Facebook has affected the way we communicate. I would find myself in a normal conversation, and then something would pop in unexpectedly. "Did you see that so and so are in a relationship?!!! Oh...you haven't? Well it's on Facebook." I've realized that I sometimes prefer anonymity. Sometimes, I just like to keep my business to myself; to surf the wave of obscurity. I'm sure the same goes for other people. 


3. I wrote some letters. And it felt GOOD. Handwritten letters are a lost art form. Enough said.


4. Facebook has affected the way we perceive others and ourselves. Facebook was created to make networks. Mark Zuckerberg, the creator of Facebook, was recently named the TIME person of the year (2010). I skimmed this article in TIME (a gatrillion pages long. I had better things to do...like check Facebook). In the article, he states his purpose for Facebook. 


"We're trying to map out what exists in the world," he says. "In the world, there's trust. I think as humans we fundamentally parse the world through the people and relationships we have around us. So at its core, what we're trying to do is map out all of those trust relationships, which you can call, colloquially, most of the time, friendships."


First of all..."colloquially"? I don't quite know what to do with myself. I don't think I'm intelligent enough to even begin to describe the cosmic adventure within that word.


I think that Mark had a beautiful idea. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if we've lost sight of that. Are we really striving to build a community based on trust and a mapping of friendships, or have we fallen into a commercial idea of creating a false image of ourselves? Am I making any semblance of sense? Probably not. But I just feel that we have lost the point in it. It's about connectivity with those we know and love, not trying to build an "empire" of photos and friends.


What have I learned? That a one-on-one conversation with a best friend in a small coffee shop beats a wall post any day. That pictures are beautiful, but the memories within the pictures are even better. And spending hours singing off-key with your best friend in a car is better than hours spent on a chat trying to spew a witty repertoire of...wit. And that maybe Mark Zuckerberg, the analytical mind that is worth millions, can write codes all day...but it will never come close to personal, joyful, sorrowful, expressible, human interaction. 

Almost done.

The Facebook drought is almost over.

I can feel the blood beginning to pump back into my veins...the familiar rush as I anticipate logging in and seeing all those notifications...

NOT.

I probably really haven't gotten that many, in all actuality of reality of syncopasity.

I don't know what else to talk about.

I'm seriously at a loss for words.

I don't think that's ever happened to me.

Well. Maybe once. And it was at the Grand Canyon.

I choked on a piece of gum.

Day 16, 1:57 a.m. Eastern Time-Facebook whispers my name...

Okay. I miss Facebook. It's official. I had this weird obsession with spending hours looking at pictures of people that I hardly knew. And now that I watch my friends from afar doing said creepy activity, I'm just itching to get back on. 


But it's all in my head...right?


I don't REALLY need to respond to the seemingly endless wall-posts that I imagine are clogging my notifications. Right?


I don't need to check those important messages about that event that I might not even go to but I'll check 'maybe" anyway because I'm wishy washy...........right?




....Right......


Enough about Facebook.


I've decided that the laundry room in Moore Hall is the perfect place to relax. I love washing machines.


I have also realized I have this superfluous fear of treadmills. I have aptly named this fear, "Tread-Dread". I ran on one in the Rec Center tonight and the whole time I was sweating. Not from the workout......(I only had it on about level 5.5. I can just hear you judging me. Don't) but from the constant fear that I was going to be distracted for one second or slow down and it would be all over. I've fallen on a treadmill before. It might surprise you to know that you can't stop running on a treadmill. I found that out the hard way. (Again with the judging...)


While we're on the subject of things I've learned:


All-nighters aren't much of a reality for me anymore. I'm getting old.


Never tell an Architect his letter "P" is looking a little crooked. Did you know they spend hours on those letters...? Whoops.


Free stuff and coupons are awesome. That goes for anyone at any stage in life.


I got a new phone cover for my phone. It looks like a Transformer (not exactly something I've learned...but I just thought you should know) 


Some people just are on a NOT-need-to-know-basis. Find this out before you tell them anything. I'm over it.

When they say "poor college students", they MEAN IT.


Goodnight.

Facebook withdrawals...

Yes I changed my blog. Don't freak out, because it will probably be different in about a month or so anyway.

Hey mom. Yes I'm awake at 12:36 a.m. But it's okay because I don't have class in the morning.

Do you ever just wake up and not like yourself? I seriously woke up today not liking myself. I don't like that I just go through life expecting things to be handed to me. I'm a selfish person. But, by God's grace. That has been my motto for the week.

Because here's the deal. I need a job. But I can't just keep thinking I'm gonna get one very easily. There are so many other qualified people out there that want the same thing I do. So I gotta knock 'em dead, kid. Gotta get after it. Gotta sock 'em!

..."Sock 'em?" I don't even know what I'm saying right now.

I have been officially Reganed.

Guess who has two thumbs and just saw Brian Regan live?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


This gal.


Jealous?


It was inexplicably indescribably AWESOME! As I've mentioned one too many times to mention, I want to be a comedian when I don't grow up. So this hits the ticket.


I don't think that's right...


Hits the nail on the head? At any rate. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. So it was good.


There are slogans out there that have false advertising all up in here. 


Like the Always brand. "Have a happy period". Wow. Not enough words to describe how false this is. The words "happy" and "period" do not even belong in the same sentence. The same universe. I bet it was a male that came up with this saying. 


"Spangles, it just tastes better." Compared to what? Better than what? I need a chart. When I walk into Spangles, I want to see a statistical chart that shows what Spangles is better than. Every restaurant. 


"Wheaties: The breakfast of Champions!" .....is there an ingredient I'm missing? Because one day I was eating Wheaties (a rare occasion. I was always more of a Frosted Flakes fan) and I looked at the ingredients. I didn't see any notes about Steroids or muscle-influencing supplements. Joke. But really. After I ate them I went back to bed. So does that imply that I must be a Champion BEFORE I can eat the Wheaties? Is there a Wheaties osmosis that has to occur? Or do I become a Champion by eating said cereal? I just want to be a champion. 

Social Networking bannation: Day 1.

Facebook-be-gone experiment, day 1.


I have decided to get off of Facebook for a whole month. One. Whole. Month. To some, this is an absurd idea. Preposterous. I'm beginning to think they're right. 


It's already been 15 minutes and I can feel the blood rushing to my head...my palms beginning to sweat...the familiar shakes come on as I feel the withdrawals setting in. The endless hours of creeping on pictures of people I hardly know beckon to me; the painstaking thought process of inventing a witty status to gather caustic remarks and thousands of "likes" plagues the brain. Tomorrow is National Creep Day...How can I do what I do best without Facebook?


All that aside...it's worth it. Completely worth it. I have realized just how important Facebook has become in this society...too important. It has become an infection; people refer to it for relationships, friendships, and even friends of friends of friends that were tagged in that one picture from when your friend was on vacation. This so-called social network has become more than just a trend among college students. It has become a world-wide icon that has possessed so many monitors across this globe. And I want to know...is it really worth it? Is Facebook so crucial in my life that I can't go a month without it? I would like to think not. That is why I am going to conduct this experiment. To go a month without that social networking site that we have all learned to obsess over. And I challenge you to try as well, reader. Will you accept?


P.S. Also, if you really need to get ahold of me, there are other things out there. Email. Phone. A hand-written letter! I love getting them and I love sending them. They have become obsolete and it saddens me. What is a hand-written letter you may ask?


Google it. 

Oprah, Kramer and whippage of hair back and forth.

Oprah. I want to know. How is this woman successful? What was the point where she woke up and decided, no turning back. I'm going to own my own talk show. And if I decided to own one, would it work that way for me? Probably not. So what is it about Oprah that brings the sobs all around the world? Her voice makes me think of Feng Shui. You can't even hear her name now without thinking, I may just start crying because of that one episode where she bought a house for the family that was financially unstable. And it's crazy to think that years ago, no one knew who Oprah even was. She has surpassed even celebrities. She's in BOARD GAMES for crying out loud!!!!! I just...don't know what to do. And she's just so filthy rich. It's like every show she's handing out free cars for everyone in the audience or she rolls in giving high fives and announces, "hey everyone! You're all going to resorts in Australia because I feel good!" It just. I mean if Bill Gates had a talk show? Can you imagine how THAT would go? Oprah would be a thing of the past. People would get free planets. 


I think Kramer from Seinfeld is hilarious. If I was a man I would want to look like and have the  mannerisms of Kramer. But I'm not. So we're just gonna move on.


Willow Smith. I had not even heard of this child until this song, "I whip my hair back and forth" came out. I don't understand the song. The child is nine years old. In the song, she talks about "when they see me pull up, I whip it real hard" (I'm assuming her hair). Pull up in what?!!!!!! Her Barbie Convertible?!!!! She can't drive!!!! I don't...understand. It just bothers me when mere children talk about things such as pulling up in invisible cars. She also mentions, "Don't let haters keep me off my grind". What haters? Grind?! I didn't even know what haters meant at the age of nine. Do kids even know how to hate? I just think society has driven this whole child-star thing out the door and through several buildings. The rest of the song goes on to tell us, if we didn't get it the first ten choruses, that she likes to whip her hair back and forth. Willow, I'm sorry you're named after a tree.


P.S. Bon Jovi keeps looking older and older.

Do YOU take your deodorant for granted?

I like watching the polls.

Is that nerdy? Oh. It is?

Well. I admittedly do. It's addicting. It's like watching a caterpillar trying to go from one leaf to another in the span of five hours. You never know what could happen.

Speaking of which...

have you ever had that sinking feeling in your stomach? Like when Wal-Mart discontinues your favorite deodorant?

I don't think I have to say it. But I will. Wal-Mart discontinued my favorite deodorant.

Are they insane?!!!!

That deodorant...was the perfect odor blocker. It smelled like an ocean breeze wafting through a beach full of coconut palm trees waving in a Hawaiian sun. Pretty sure that's what it was called, too.
I went to Wal-Mart yesterday and it was GONE. I had to choke back a cry of helplessness as i frantically rifled through the endless maze of unfamiliar scents of Teen Spirit (Do I really want to smell like hormones and ex-cheerleading years? Literally taking the song to the next level) and tacky odorless off-brands. It was nowhere to be found. Through the streaming tears I grabbed a go fresh Dove. Three years of my beautiful Suave...gone.

I am NOT melodramatic. I do NOT use parentheses too much. And I certainly DON'T overuse caps.

An Ode to Parkour-----> unrelated note: A footnote about the wonders and fine art of procrastination

I wrote a poem about Parkour. It goes like this:

"Jumping, leaping."

That's all I have so far. 

Have you ever seen something and thought, wow. That is cool. Then tried it? Well. I've been watching Parkour recently. And I thought, wow. That is cool. So I tried it. 

Lets just say...people with the hand-eye coordination of drunk monkeys should not attempt or even think of attempting Parkour. It looks dumb. Not Parkour; drunk monkey people attempting Parkour.

I think Parkour should be added to the dictionary. My blog is correcting me, telling me what I am actually meaning to say is, "Park our." Which, in fact, is actually two words.

On an unrelated note (see title)- Procrastination is an art form. It truly is. And it is one that I have mastered quite well. And let me tell you...what was I going to say?

I'll just tell you later.

Biebz and Oreos

Justin Bieber. All I have to say is, this kid has a 'do to do the dew. Know what I'm saying?

I had a theory in my head the other day. Well. I've heard it before. But. It was a little more profound on this Fall day. What if...

Your orange is different than my orange? We are seeing the same color, but what if the color you actually see is my red? But we both know it to be the same color. Mind blowing, right?!!!!!!

I want to learn how to play the bagpipes.

Do you ever get that heart-stopping feeling in your gut when you remember something too late, or realize you've lost something very important, or see your favorite book in a puddle of water, or listen to someone squeaking Styrofoam?

You're probably wondering about the other half of my title. Or if I'm going to end the story about heart-stopping moments.

I don't even know if I will.

Oreos are good for the heart. And I just had some. And they help with heart-stopping moments, like I had before I ate aforementioned Oreos. Did the Oreos make me feel better? No. Therefore, the statement "America's Favorite Cookie", does not seem to apply in this particular predicament. But Oreos are pretty good, I'll give them that.

I don't even know what I'm talking about. I have about 3 bajillion pages of homework, 3gigjazillion pictures to edit, and I honestly just want to sit and be space. Not take up space. Just be space. Sit there. I know that sounds depressing. But my motivation has flown out the window.

KBye.

Ballet for Dummies.

Today it hit me. It really did.

I have a somewhat strict Ballet teacher. She is pretty sarcastic as well. One time, a guy in my class mentioned how sore he was. Her response? "I missed where I care."

It wasn't even me and I felt like I was melting into the slick, marley floor.

Anyways.

I decided that all along, my motivation has been skewed. For these past few weeks, I have been dancing for my teacher. This is terrible. I am ashamed of myself. My motivation should be for the one who gave me these legs and this heart for music and leotards and turning my body into a human pretzel.

On a totally unrelated but completely related note...

I'm going to go see So You Think You Can Dance in KC with my friend Andrea!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And you have no idea how excited I am. I have watched this beautiful show for about, oh, several years now. And it is better every year. And it has always been my dream to go see it live. And that dream is about to come true. I. Can't. WAIT.

Sorry to geek out. It's just...whew. My eyes are dry. I don't know what this irrelevant statement has to do with such a wonderful event. Just felt like sharing.