1. I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.
2. If I could be reincarnated as anything, it would be a piano.
3. My favorite color is red.
4. I still sleep with a stuffed dog that my mother gave me for Valentines Day a long time ago.
5. If I was told I could never sing again, I'd probably die of sadness.
6. There is glitter on every brush and comb that I own.
7. I have only ever had one pet. It was a gold fish named flipper. My father "accidentally" killed him.
8. I have a real talent for self adornment, even though my mother doesn't let me wear the majority of my clothing outside.
9. I am sometimes afraid that I'll lose touch with any sense of fashion that I have, because I almost never wear anything for fun.
10. In conversation, I stay away from three topics: money situations, race, and abortion.
11. No matter what, I will always love Glee.
12. Sometimes I think about middle school and get sad, because even though I was glad to leave, I feel like it was good real life practice. There were fights, pregnancies, shootings, death, vanity, drugs, sex, secrets, gossip, and so much love.
13. Pomegranates. My love for them can only be described in one sentence: Why must you deny me the food of the dead?! Seriously, they are impossible to find!
14. I have a cousin with a line of headphones that came put a while back.
15. Everyone in my family plays an instrument, and has played a sport.
16. All of my siblings want to be engineers, except for me, because I don't know what I want to be.
17. If I don't get a 3.6 GPA every semester, my scholarship will be revoked, I won"t be able to pay for school, and I will be kicked out of Duchesne.
18. I have a big issue with Madame Voiture.
19. Every night I go to bed by at least 10:30 if I don't feel like finishing all my homework.
20. My hair defies gravity in ways most unsettling.
21. People laugh at a lot of the things I say. Half of what you laugh at wasn't a joke. Half of what you don't laugh at was a bad joke.
22. One day, I will write the Duchesne Musical.
23. It's quixotic, but I do believe that everything, in the end, will be alright. The dust always settles and the dawn always comes.
24. I've always found myself at a loss when it comes to verbally expressing my feelings. I'll usually just say what I think is a good answer answer until I can interject again and say what I know is the right answer.
25. My mind is always wandering and I can never sit still.
26. I keep things inside too much. I say one thing hypothetically and think the same thing seriously, so it sounds like my opinion is joke.
27. Think about how much of what I say is rambling, random, nonsense and hypothetical situations. Multiply that by two. That is how much I think about what to say.
28. I don't like my smile. My lips are too thick and it makes my nose look big, but I do it anyway.
29. They say you can't please everyone, but I can damn well try.
30. I don't use profanity to be profane. I use it for emphasis.
31. I am very self-conscious about my knees.
32. Animals and small children scare me. They both seem so fragile and I have little experience with either.
33. Making small talk is very difficult for me. I have always wanted to have long, heart to heart conversations, and until that urge is satisfied, I don't think I'll be able to communicate properly.
34. Every time I try to make conversation and don't know what to talk about, I feel like I should make some off hand comment about the weather or ask how their dinner was.
35. The idea of boys scares me. The fact I have to have a baby with one scares me more.
36. I have no idea what will happen when I start to meet boys. I hear their just like girls, but hairier and less expressive.
37. I like acting and singing because there's never any problem with knowing what to say.
38. I alway need a song in my heart. If I don't have a song to sing, I will be completely lost and unable to function until I find a new one.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
#27 Warning: This Post Will Sound Boring and Vain Some Readers
I've been debating with myself for a long time on whether or not to write about this, but I feel the time has come. Isn't a blog for that anyway? Sharing what's on your mind and how you're doing? That's probably the reason I've struggling to write something lately. I've been trying to do something amusing rather what is actively on my mind.
I hate my hair.
There I said it. Half of you gasping right now. Somebody is probably shaking their head and saying, oh SWB.
But I hate my hair.
It has never been long, flowing, or even down to my shoulders. It's frizzy, curly, and short.
And the curls make absolutely no sense. The roots are a mass of frizz, the middles are spirals, and the ends are wavy. It's stiff and dry and breaks easily.
My hair is a lot like a slinky. Whenever I wake up my hair is all packed down and stiff. I have to rinse it out every morning to get it to uncoil a little. And even after it dries it shrinks again.
I have a limited number of hairstyles available if I don't straighten my hair. I like to have my hair frame my face, so any type of braid, cornrow, or twist is out of the question. Dreadlocks are permanent. So all I have is my little pseudo-fro.
And you know something else? I do NOT appreciate people ogling at my hair. Just because it's something different doesn't mean it's something to be stared at. When people come up to me, play around in my hair like a monkey looking for bugs, and effectively re-frizz my hair, saying "afros are already messy" is not cute, charming, funny, or informing in anyway what so ever. Having people stick their hands my in hair and comparing my head to sheep is not fun. It's a lot like going up to someone who you recently noticed has braces and sticking your hands in their mouth and then saying, "Take a look at those railroad tracks!"
Also, I don't appreciate it when people stare at my hair when they are talking to me. You know who you are.
Could people please stop coming up with new adjectives for my hair? Here is a short list of some of the things people have called it:
wild
mysterious
unkempt
frizzy
dense
wooly
kinky
nappy
baldheaded (an urban phrase for "very short")
and many, many more
I just do not like my hair. Though I'm sure, almost every person at one point in their lives has hated the texture of their hair.
But I've always hated my hair. Most because it's short. Partially because it's curly.
But I really hate my short hair. Which isn't to mean that I hate all hair that isn't long. I know plenty of people who look absolutely lovely with not-long hair. Well, not plenty of people, because the majority of the people that I know are women with long hair. But you catch the drift. And I also say not-long hair because shoulder length is not short, at least not for me.
Perhaps I should elaborate more. I hate my hair when it's short and curly. I actually like my hair when it's short and straight. It's smooth, it looks longer, it's softer, and easier to style. When my hair is curly I can't help but feel like a black Orphan Annie.
I feel naked without my hair straight. My neck, ears, and forehead are all bare and I feel as though I'm exposing myself to the world.
My hair is not fuzzy wonderland for people's hands to frolic around in, in some sort of frenzied delight. My head is not a plaything, and come Monday, will not be treated as such. Now that I have that off my chest, it's nice to know that I don't have to tell this to people one by one that "Yes, I will find my tap-shoes and kick you in the shin at your earliest convenience the next time you give me an unwarranted scalp massage."
It's all rather irritating.
It's nice to vent.
I hate my hair.
There I said it. Half of you gasping right now. Somebody is probably shaking their head and saying, oh SWB.
But I hate my hair.
It has never been long, flowing, or even down to my shoulders. It's frizzy, curly, and short.
And the curls make absolutely no sense. The roots are a mass of frizz, the middles are spirals, and the ends are wavy. It's stiff and dry and breaks easily.
My hair is a lot like a slinky. Whenever I wake up my hair is all packed down and stiff. I have to rinse it out every morning to get it to uncoil a little. And even after it dries it shrinks again.
I have a limited number of hairstyles available if I don't straighten my hair. I like to have my hair frame my face, so any type of braid, cornrow, or twist is out of the question. Dreadlocks are permanent. So all I have is my little pseudo-fro.
And you know something else? I do NOT appreciate people ogling at my hair. Just because it's something different doesn't mean it's something to be stared at. When people come up to me, play around in my hair like a monkey looking for bugs, and effectively re-frizz my hair, saying "afros are already messy" is not cute, charming, funny, or informing in anyway what so ever. Having people stick their hands my in hair and comparing my head to sheep is not fun. It's a lot like going up to someone who you recently noticed has braces and sticking your hands in their mouth and then saying, "Take a look at those railroad tracks!"
Also, I don't appreciate it when people stare at my hair when they are talking to me. You know who you are.
Could people please stop coming up with new adjectives for my hair? Here is a short list of some of the things people have called it:
wild
mysterious
unkempt
frizzy
dense
wooly
kinky
nappy
baldheaded (an urban phrase for "very short")
and many, many more
I just do not like my hair. Though I'm sure, almost every person at one point in their lives has hated the texture of their hair.
But I've always hated my hair. Most because it's short. Partially because it's curly.
But I really hate my short hair. Which isn't to mean that I hate all hair that isn't long. I know plenty of people who look absolutely lovely with not-long hair. Well, not plenty of people, because the majority of the people that I know are women with long hair. But you catch the drift. And I also say not-long hair because shoulder length is not short, at least not for me.
Perhaps I should elaborate more. I hate my hair when it's short and curly. I actually like my hair when it's short and straight. It's smooth, it looks longer, it's softer, and easier to style. When my hair is curly I can't help but feel like a black Orphan Annie.
I feel naked without my hair straight. My neck, ears, and forehead are all bare and I feel as though I'm exposing myself to the world.
My hair is not fuzzy wonderland for people's hands to frolic around in, in some sort of frenzied delight. My head is not a plaything, and come Monday, will not be treated as such. Now that I have that off my chest, it's nice to know that I don't have to tell this to people one by one that "Yes, I will find my tap-shoes and kick you in the shin at your earliest convenience the next time you give me an unwarranted scalp massage."
It's all rather irritating.
It's nice to vent.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
#26 Rule 34
Rule 34. The basis for the majority of the Internet. Snow White, Teletubbies, even Lion King.
If you know what Rule 34 is, kudos to you. If you don't know what Rule 34 is, then well, you might as well stop reading now.
Depending on what combination Rule 34 displays, it can be either humorous, ingenious, or the kind of traumatizing that scars your innocence. Murrbeth knows what I'm talking about. As a matter of fact, we had a conversation about it yesterday.
"Snow White."
"Really?"
"Glee."
"Not surprising."
"Even Lion King."
Murrbeth had to leave the room at that point. I imagine she was thinking, "Is nothing sacred?"
Nothing is sacred on the Internet. Not even Lion King. Which is really a shame. It's is surprising how vast the world of Rule 34 is. So vast that it encompasses Spongebob, a realm I previously thought would be impossible to Rule 34. But that just goes to show that I should have referenced Rule 35 first.
There is one thing you MUST remember: Rule 34 exists for every conceivable subject. Captain Planet, Power Rangers, Garfield. Do yourself a favor. Don't google Rule 34.
If you know what Rule 34 is, kudos to you. If you don't know what Rule 34 is, then well, you might as well stop reading now.
Depending on what combination Rule 34 displays, it can be either humorous, ingenious, or the kind of traumatizing that scars your innocence. Murrbeth knows what I'm talking about. As a matter of fact, we had a conversation about it yesterday.
"Snow White."
"Really?"
"Glee."
"Not surprising."
"Even Lion King."
Murrbeth had to leave the room at that point. I imagine she was thinking, "Is nothing sacred?"
Nothing is sacred on the Internet. Not even Lion King. Which is really a shame. It's is surprising how vast the world of Rule 34 is. So vast that it encompasses Spongebob, a realm I previously thought would be impossible to Rule 34. But that just goes to show that I should have referenced Rule 35 first.
There is one thing you MUST remember: Rule 34 exists for every conceivable subject. Captain Planet, Power Rangers, Garfield. Do yourself a favor. Don't google Rule 34.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
#25 Shine On You Crazy Diamond
I awakened this morning to realize two things: I should have done all of my home work yesterday and that I will not see my beloved, beloved friend from Charlotte's Web as I did before. No more show tunes, no long mildly inappropriate hugs, no dancing for no reason. At least for now. Ever since the first show of my freshman year, I have been a part of that crazy, wonderful, beautiful, magical place called Duchesne theater.
In the movie "Elf" there's this scene where Buddy is talking about the girl he met in the department store. He yells, "I'm in love, I'm in love and don't care who knows it!" And you know what? I'm in love with Duchesne Theater and I don't give a damn who knows it.
Duchesne theater is not just a show, or name, or stage. It's all of the wonderful people who have crossed this stage, all of the magical traditions, the show tunes, the dancing, the love that resonates in the air and in all of us as we do our super secret tradition right before a show. Even That-Thing-That-Didn't-Happen.
If Duchesne Theater was a rock, it would be in the shape of a majestic soaring eagle and then covered head to talon in rainbow glitter.
If Duchesne Theater was a bed, it would a giant bean bag chair, one that got bigger every time someone else wanted to sit on it.
If Duchesne Theater was an emotion, it would be the kind of love that warms your heart on cold nights and overflows from your eyes.
In the end, I still find that I love Duchesne Theater more than I can say. Instead of an actor they should have sent a poet.
All I must say to you, Duchesne Theater is this: Shine on you crazy diamond.
In the movie "Elf" there's this scene where Buddy is talking about the girl he met in the department store. He yells, "I'm in love, I'm in love and don't care who knows it!" And you know what? I'm in love with Duchesne Theater and I don't give a damn who knows it.
Duchesne theater is not just a show, or name, or stage. It's all of the wonderful people who have crossed this stage, all of the magical traditions, the show tunes, the dancing, the love that resonates in the air and in all of us as we do our super secret tradition right before a show. Even That-Thing-That-Didn't-Happen.
If Duchesne Theater was a rock, it would be in the shape of a majestic soaring eagle and then covered head to talon in rainbow glitter.
If Duchesne Theater was a bed, it would a giant bean bag chair, one that got bigger every time someone else wanted to sit on it.
If Duchesne Theater was an emotion, it would be the kind of love that warms your heart on cold nights and overflows from your eyes.
In the end, I still find that I love Duchesne Theater more than I can say. Instead of an actor they should have sent a poet.
All I must say to you, Duchesne Theater is this: Shine on you crazy diamond.
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