The Despondency Experiment

Remember the gummy bears. ;)

            Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it. My life is awesome, especially when I’m here at home. I don’t have any sort of impending deadlines for school assignments or social dilemmas to sort through. All relaxation, no stress. Except that’s the problem. My problem is that I have NO PROBLEMS. I feel like bursting into a chorus of “It’s Too Heavenly Here,” like Charlie from All Dogs Go to Heaven 2. Basically, I’m going insane…I mean, I actually watched All Dogs Go to Heaven 2, if that’s any indication.

Even when I’m at school, though, I feel like I live a charmed life. Nothing ever goes wrong for me. Ever. I always get the classes I want exactly when I want to take them. No matter how short my attention span, my teachers always love me. I get straight A’s, and everything is easy. Let’s face it. I’m good at school. And life. I’m so good, in fact, that I feel the need to procrastinate absolutely all responsibilities until the last possible second. For dramatic effect, of course. One time, I forgot to take my Advanced Writing final online before it closed. I e-mailed my professor in a panic, and he told me not to worry about it and that he’d send me the link to the final right away. Why? Because I ate gummy bears for breakfast in his class every morning, and I shared them with him. “I remember the gummy bears,” he wrote in his return e-mail, and he even included a picture of the world’s largest gummy bear, for my entertainment. That is solid proof that gummy bears for breakfast everyday can save your life.

Anyway, back to the problem. When life is too easy, where’s the fun in that? No one wants to read a story about someone with a perfect life. Good stories are about trouble, which is why I feel an obligation to the future readers of my best-selling autobiography to occasionally shake things up a bit. I thought long and hard about this, and I said to myself “Hm…I wonder what sad feels like?” So, I resolved to pretend to be depressed for a few days, just to see if I could pull it off. I planned to spend my days wallowing in self-pity, listening to whiny emo music, sighing and looking out windows at the dark, cruel world beyond, and generally playing the part of the poor, unfortunate soul in a sad, sad movie. That’s right, if the sun shines wrong, I would be the first to complain. Except, I found out that being sad is not all it’s cracked up to be. Actually, it’s kind of a downer. If you’re going to try out an emotion just for the heck of it, don’t pick depression. Why? Because it will suck you in like a black hole, that’s why. The second you start to feel sorry for yourself because you spilled scalding hot coffee on your left hand at work and now your skin is starting to fall off, making you look like you have leprosy, life will give you infinitely more reasons to feel less than awesome. So, I decided that I like having very little to worry about, and I’ll save the tempests and rainclouds for the characters in my future best-selling novels.  

Through this experiment, I realized that self-pity is a sentiment that I am simply not capable of. Who am I kidding? I was born to be a shiny, happy person. People ask me how I can be happy all the time. Here’s how. No matter what life throws at me, I only allow myself seven minutes of sadness, and then I laugh it off, make fun of my problems. Because life is too short to be depressed. I lied before. My life isn’t perfect, but I love it anyway. J

Attitude of Gratitude

            So…Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am so very thankful to all the people who read my blog (all two of you) and give me the attention I so desperately crave. I’d like to be serious for a moment (just a moment) and sincerely express how incredibly thankful I am for everyone and everything I have been blessed with. I’m thankful for my family, my friends, and everyone who has touched my life. I’m thankful for my opportunities, and I’m thankful for my trials and my difficulties. They have made me strong and shaped who I am today, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This year has been especially difficult for me, and sometimes it’s easy to forget all the good things I have. Even though Thanksgiving is the day set aside for us to count our blessings, I believe that it is important to make gratitude an important part of our lives every day of the year. Imagine how much happier people would be if they focused on what makes their lives great instead of incessantly obsessing over what’s missing. President Thomas S. Monson once said: “My brothers and sisters, to express gratitude is gracious and honorable, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live with gratitude ever in our hearts is to touch heaven.” I love T-Money. He always knows what to say.

            Serious moment over. I am currently sprawled out on my couch dying from overexposure to yummy food. My eyes tell me “Yes, more food. MORE FOOD!” Meanwhile, my stomach is yelling “No, NOOO! Stop, you pig! I can’t take it anymore!” Yup…Thanksgiving is a good day. No worries. I’ll work it off tomorrow while I’m Black Friday shopping. Confession: I love Black Friday, even though I maintain that it is an extremely unflattering reflection of our society. We’ve all seen the Black Friday commercials every store has put out two weeks in advance. There’s that crazed Target lady, who is “training” for her ultimate day of shopping madness. Then there’s that incredibly annoying, retarded lady from Kohl’s belting out her own rendition of Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” Gosh, I hate that one. I just think it’s incredibly shallow that only one day after Thanksgiving, when we express our sincere gratitude for the things we have, we have Black Friday, where we set out in search of the things we want. It seems to void the purpose of Thanksgiving, if you ask me. It’s kind of ridiculous how that works…But hey. I like shopping. So, I’ll stop complaining.

            Here’s an interesting thought. The turkey ALMOST became our national symbol, instead of the bald eagle. Benjamin Franklin was a resolute supporter of the turkey, describing the bald eagle as lousy bird of bad moral character. He goes on describe how the eagle is too lazy to hunt for his own fish, chasing down the hawk and taking the fish from him. I think I agree with Franklin on this one. The turkey is an original native of America, fiercely defending his territory whenever necessary. Those things are kind of scary when they’re mad at you. Unfortunately, the eagle kind of fits, as well. I mean, it’s a cutthroat world out there. We’ve got dogs eating dogs, fish munching fish, and eagles stealing fish from hawks. But just imagine…if the turkey was our national symbol. We would not be allowed to eat turkey on Thanksgiving…Would we eat eagle instead? The things I think about when I’m quickly spiraling into a food-induced coma. Anyway…Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Have fun gorging yourselves. I love you all!

Guess What?!

            When I tell people I’m an English major, they have the same reaction almost every time. 3-2-1…”So, are you looking to be an English teacher?” Of, course. Because that is the ONLY thing you could possibly do with an English degree. This drives me insane. No, my life’s dream is not to teach. I have no interest in instructing people over and over and over again that “there,” “they’re,” and “their” are three different words and they are NOT interchangeable. Don’t get me wrong. I have mad respect for English teachers mainly because I myself don’t possess the patience or the willpower to teach. I mean, why should anyone else be as smart as me? However, I absolutely love it when people pay attention to and understand the rules of the English language. So, I thank all English teachers for doing what I cannot and educating the general population.

            

           Another reaction I get when people find out I’m an English major is when people suddenly get super self-conscious about everything that comes out of their mouths for fear of being corrected. Now, I’m not a grammar Nazi. It’s not my job to correct you. That’s your English teacher’s job, thank goodness. However, I appreciate proper grammar, and I WILL notice if you make a mistake. I took a grammar class in college, and sometimes I diagram peoples’ sentences in my head while they’re talking instead of listening to them. It’s a curse, and I’m not proud of it. I won’t vocally correct you though. I make grammatical errors while speaking too. I know it even when I’m making them, and I absolutely hate it when people point them out. It’s scary how defensive some people get over language, so I’d rather just avoid confrontation. There are some things though, not just grammatical, that will make the English major in me cringe.

1. I’m a little OCD about punctuation, I’ll admit. But without it, I believe wholeheartedly that the English language would begin a rapid descent into anarchy. Punctuation clarifies what we are trying to say and how we are trying to say it. There is a crucial difference between “Let’s eat, grandma!” and “Let’s eat grandma!” I think grandma would agree.

2. “Should of?” Really? I don’t think I need to say more. It’s “should HAVE.”

3. Um…Words that sound the same don’t always mean the same thing…If you pay attention, you only have to learn the difference between your and you’re; its and it’s; and there, they’re, and their once. And I will love you for it.

4. Please remember that pronouns refer to the nouns that are closest to them. Actually, these mistakes can be really funny, so feel free to keep making them for my entertainment. Ex: “I went jogging with my dog and my grandma, but we had to cut it short because she attacked the mailman.” Now, most people would automatically assume it was the dog that attacked the mailman, but I don’t like to rule out potentially hilarious possibilities…

5. Okay, this isn’t a grammatical error, but it drives me nuts anyway. People always say “I could care less” when they wish to convey indifference. But if you think about it…this saying doesn’t make any sense at all in context. If they really could care less, then why don’t they? Wouldn’t you say that you “couldn’t care less,” which is to say, you don’t care at all and therefore could not care less. Maybe it’s just me thinking too much...

6. Again, this isn’t a grammatical error, but it’s a custom in the English language that I don’t understand. When people have exciting news, they always begin with “Oh my gosh, guess what?!” To which I will unfailingly reply “Do I have to guess?”

7. Then there’s the common typo. These can be funny, but they can also be very annoying, especially when you’ve worked so hard to sound smart in the first place. For example:

          

           Well, there you have it. The Seven Deadly Sins of the English Language, according to Melissa Turner. But don’t worry. If you commit any one of these crimes, I’ll forgive you immediately. No repentance necessary. But I reserve the right to chuckle inwardly at your transgressions. What can I say? I’m a nice person. But anyway…I just blogged about grammar, and I now feel like a genuine English nerd. I’m going to go do something with my life.

Sentence Diagramming...

Would you like to know what else goes on inside my head?

 

 

Plus-Sized Skinny Jeans?

            To the large middle-aged man in Wal-mart walking around in skinny jeans,

I think you may have exceeded the limits of your pants…by just a hair.
Sincerely, girl who now wishes she were blind.        

            I have recently been inspired to write about something I view as a serious problem in our society: the use and misuse of skinny jeans. Let’s face it. Only a fraction of the world’s population can pull it off. And that does NOT include guys. If you are a guy and you wear skinny jeans, you BETTER be holding a gun or hunting velociraptors or otherwise doing something incredibly manly for every second of your life. Now, I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s just not okay. If I were a blind person, by all means, wear whatever pleases you. Except I’m not blind, and if I happen to glance at you and see something I will never be able to un-see, then we have a problem. Do the sighted world a favor…Please. Wear what fits you. I can promise that you’ll feel better about yourself, people around you will be more comfortable, and you won’t lose circulation in your legs…I give such great advice, huh? You’re welcome. :)  

What A Girl Wants?...That Guy.

My favorite chick flicks are He’s Just Not That Into You, How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, and John Tucker Must Die. What does that tell you? I hate chick flicks…Hate them with all my soul. Scary movies and thrillers are more my speed. Why? Well there’s a perfectly logical explanation for this. Chick flicks make me sad about my life…especially when they have happy endings. Scary movies always leave me feeling better about my life…especially when they have horrible and disturbing endings because no matter how bad it gets, I know my life will never be THAT bad…Hopefully. Chick flicks don’t do us any favors, people. They give us unrealistic expectations. People don’t fall in love like that. It just doesn’t happen. Hate to break it to you, girls. Chivalry and fairytales are dead…Not because they are no longer possible, but because we have learned to lower our expectations. They’ve been replaced with awkward situations, disappointments, lost opportunities, and not being able to say what you need to say when you need to say it. The movies make it look so easy when in real life, love is a royal pain.

            So, you’re probably asking where this rant is coming from? Well, this morning, against my better judgement, I was watching What A Girl Wants. I think the title of this movie is funny because if you ask Amanda Bynes what a girl (her character) wants, she’d say that she wants to find her birth father in England and hopefully fit in with the royal society. But for me, this movie is all about Oliver James. That’s right, I just undermined the entire plot. If you ask me what a girl wants, I will say “him” without hesitation. I mean, look at him. He’s super attractive, has a British accent, drives a motorcycle, sings/plays guitar, and he’s SENSITIVE. In my experience, guys aren’t like that ever. I mean, seriously, are you ever going to meet a guy who will look you in the eyes and ask you “Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?” Really.

 I don’t mean to be super negative, but that’s just how I see it. Chick flicks will give you that warm, fuzzy feeling when you’re living vicariously through the main character, but once the end credits are rolling to the tune of a love song, you come to the realization that that will never happen. So I’m going to stick with scary movies. Because as the end credits are rolling to the tune of a smashing piano, I will come to the conclusion that if I never watch a cursed video tape with nightmarish images on it, Samara will not crawl out of her well and through my TV to end my life. Just something to think about…