Klutz

Bad Teenage Poetry. That's all I have to say. Instantly a full range of minds refers to some broken hearted girl with black eye-liner, some broken hearted dude with a guitar, penning their pathetic souls into a Lisa Frank diary with misspellings and grammatical errors and everything.

And as much as I ridicule this adolescent movement of, to steal a phrase, worditude, I realize, with a survey of my insipid entries, that I am a shamefully guilty of being a member.

Rock on.

Meanwhile, work is pretty something, and school is pretty something else. I get more money for getting scheduled at weird times now though, which is nice when the credit card bills arrive. School? Did fine on my anatomy exam, got a B on the Food Science test I neglected to study for unless you count the two hours prior, was a genius and didn't realize 'til this morning that I have an open notes quiz in Rocks for Jocks. Luckilly, have all the notes, but lately the class has been more than difficult to drag my lazy ass to. Which is a bad sign on behalf of my energy levels with closing a few too many nights in one week.

But, hey, at least I'm not snorting NoDoze. I'm not even drinking coffee hardcore. I take my vitamins, but I think I'm still anemic...which isn't cool cause I look like a masochistic heroin addict. Plus, I think I cracked a rib when I slipped on the stairs last Sunday while rushing to work...eight steps later found myself in an instant. But yeah, it's a false rib that moves. And my other one doesn't. And my other one doesn't hurt either. And my other one didn't gross Banessa off when I made her touch it. But, who knows? Cause I've been a klutz all my life and can cite relatively recent occasions where I fell. Once in 7th grade, my stupid trendy doc marten wannabe (courtesy of totally awesome otha momma) boots' laces got themselves caught around the notchy dealies for the bows and while running for the bus, made me take a nasty spill. I remember a hurt rib then. But I may have fallen on the other side...
Further examples of my grace and coordination? In the past 3 years, I've been to the Mercy Hospital ER no less than five times. Like, I could be a regular guest star on ER or something.

I'm so cool.

Oh Yay.

Over the past 19 (ahem, 21) years, I've accumulated a list of things that make me wonder why anyone would ever want to commit suicide (and not toss the term about insensitively, as I am wont to do) when there were these sorts of things to wake up to.

Why so "happy-go-lucky?" A departure from my normally whiny self? I'll announce it publicly, shamelessly (almost). I have a crush. And my favorite part about it all is that I have a crush for the first time in a long time, it's fun for me, so if you're sniggering now, you can suck some one's left nut for all I care.

In any case, thought I might impart some of the things that, for me, make life worth living....in no particular order

ellipses (...)
Mama Llama and Poppa Bear
Laura-loo and Daena-Lane
"surrogate" parents
family
friends
The color Blue/Fuschia
Writing
Laughing
Chocolate
LIFE
good music
A good Book on a rainy day in a warm bed
Jeans fresh out of the dryer
Harry Potter
flip-flops
post-card moments
Transcendentalism
Certain "ism"s
Fun words
Good words (potion, perambulator, aesthete...)
waking up to the blinding sun
Saturday morning cartoons
Cheerios (plain)
Lucky Charms
Cinnamon Crispix
Thai food
Latin food
The View from Egyptian Wing of the Met
Museums
"Good times"...
Broadway, Off-Broadway, and Off-Off-Broadway
Cafe con Leche and Tostada
Inside Jokes...
Outside Jokes
Cinnamon
Brie
Hazelnut
Pizza
Chinese food
Showers
Bubble baths
24 hour greasy spoon diners
Kick-ass classic movies
Naps
Collected Memories
Rapid Eye Movement
Concert Tickets and Band shirts
the smell of bread baking
Spanish Moss
Old-School Disney cartoons
Swings
Kites
Hammocks
Cut grass
Sand
Clean Sheets
Cigarette Weather
Curry
Babies laughing
not having to do laundry
Folding sheets and towels
having laundry change
Dew
The Rainbow Connection
bad teenage poetry
away messages on people's IMs
wind
rain
sunny days
Good Dogs, Nice Kitties, Boring Fish
Rekindling
Nag Champa
Water
Earth
Dirt
Squirrels
Karma
The Little Prince
Charles Bukowski
Blank books
full journals
Paper that's all bumpy from the writing on it
...and having a "All I really want to happen is for me to say 'I kind of want to kiss you,' watch your reaction and leave it at that because I am so in love with you totally sixth grade style with the giggles and red face and obsession and chills" crush


There you are. And if you are reading, you are more than welcome, nay, required to leave amendments...

Narcissism at its best

Tempeh is probably the ugliest thing that the Leaf-Eaters ever thought up. It's not just Tofu (the word itself sends some running and shreiking all Monty Python style). It's grainy tofu. With millet. And barley.
And I absolutely love it.

So today, after tossing out my nicely curdled milk and weeding out the borderline rotting food (mmm, delicious imagery so far), I made myself a fantastic lunch. I was so proud. I wanted to take a picture and show everyone. Because not only did it involve me cooking in the hell-hole I have for a kitchen, it involved me making Tempeh looking quite appetizing.

And then I thought, "Oh Damn. I don't have a digital camera." So of course, I knew that words would have to suffice.
Segue...Mmmmm. Mushrooms sauteed with garlic and onions. Tempeh marinated (read: five minutes before hand) in Dijon mustard and Balsamic Vinegar. Cook the mushrooms until the onions are translucent; remove fungus from skillet and set aside. Crumble the marinated tempeh and add it to the flavor infused olive oil along with the onions...taste test every so often, adding more balsamic until the granola-crunchiness is gone. Toast two slices of Wheat Bread...and it is so good. Like, even with a meat-eater's palet, I gah-run-tee that you'd be licking your lips. So simple.

Meanwhile, I still don't have a digital camera. And then I got to thinking about how many self-serving websites there are out on the crazy internet. I mean, random people set up tip jars and wishlists all the time. And people actually send them stuff!! I could set up a list of all the stuff I ever wanted but was too broke to purchase!
So why don't I?
One. I'm a lazy little twit who doesn't really want to bother learning HTML so that I might present my wish list in a snazzy way in order to entice more gift givers.
Two. My mother raised me with more sense than to ask strangers for gifts.
Three. I don't want strange packages inundating my college mail box.
Four. Even though I could avoid packaged bombs in my mail by setting up a P.O. box, I'm also too lazy and broke to do that.
Five. That's what Chanukkah is for.

But if anyone did want to send me soemthing special just for the hell of it, leave a comment and we'll talk.
Or not.
'Cause after all, I'm an English major who should be spending her time figuring out how to turn a phrase and not copping out on the descriptions with digital camera.

No one loves Love Bugs.

I like bugs. They're fun to observe. Really. I'm not that girly-girl type. I mean, whatever, Cockroaches make me shudder and ants piss the hell out of me when they get into my food, but otherwise, nature and I got no beef.
Except for Love Bugs. The whole idea of bugs having sex on me is disgusting. Ewww. And they're crawl-y and gross.
They mess up the fronts of cars that just want to get from point A to point B.
So I think a joke is fitting....
What's the last thing to go through a bug's mind as he hits the windshield?
His ass.

Ha.

So Gainesville rocks socks, undoubtedly. The best time to see her is when everyone's asleep. In the day or night, she has a quiet, halcyon quality about her. It makes me want to trade my flip flops for Birks and bathe in patchouli.
Well, not really, but you get the idea. (Madonna is keeping me inline with Immaculate Collection)

And at 10 this morning, with the sky all gray and the air all chilly and clean, all the hangover candidates still abed, I reflected on how much I love this place, especially for school.

Miami's got its goods. Undoubtedly. And the Beach is hard to beat...but
Spanish Moss comes in at a close second.

And I guess I'm a retard

So oops. I mixed the dates of the Orange Bowl UM game (which I can't go to now) and Rosh Hashannah (bad Jew! Football before High Holidays?---Oh wait, doens't that make me a typical Jew?)

Ditto for my sitch at work. I neglected to change my availability, and for two weeks in a row, I've had nothing but closings. Not an obscene amount of closings, but since I've got three months experience, I'd have thought that maybe I might have, oh, I don't know, seniority? Meanwhile, kids who've been there for two weeks (admitted exagerration) get the coveted 5-10. Not anymore Baby!! I'm gonna fix that! Of course, it means I'll have to listen to the owner give me the usual schpeil. Something along the lines of : "Just this week...You're my best closer available..." And I'll say. "Ok, well, your best closer is giving you two weeks."

Of course, I could pull the ballsy move that an ex-coworker pulled on Game night and just not show up. Hmmm.

Money is a crafty little thing.

Classes are going quite well, I'm suprised at myself for my dedication to the subjects, but I think it's because I'm taking amazing courses. Even statistics is...captivating...

..Incredible professor of my 16th cent. Ren Lit class. Delves into some interesting idealisms for the 16th century....
..Subject matter of Evolutionary Anatomy is easy enough to grasp and challenging enough to keep it interesting....
..My Geography/Rocks for Jocks Class is a higher course number than I would have expected for the material, the professor is your typical Geologist from Montana who fashions himself out of Plaid shirts tucked into either Khakis or Jeans...and that little goatee thing going on. He seems to cater to the majority of the class, which, after I looked around today, is comprised mainly of brothers and sisters all bought and paid for. We do lots of drawings that remind me of 6th grade, all the quizzes are open notes (ahhh, new age teaching) and he writes stuff down (not just lecture) so I'm thinking this is gonna be a slutty A.
..Food Science is along the same lines of the Anatomy course. Witty professor who understands how college students operate...
..And then Stat. Labs meet once a week and then Lectures are posted online for my viewing pleasure. Awesomeness to the extreme...



By the way, my commenting software is going all Wesley Willis on me (RIP) but I'm too lazy to fix it.