Good Morning?

             Good Morning, Internet! ßThat statement is dripping with sarcasm and here’s why: I hate mornings. Hate them with the burning intensity of a thousand suns. So, I know I haven’t been writing much lately and that’s because I’m at school and my time is limited and precious. I’ve become a school-crazed robot, and 20 credits don’t help—Future college students, don’t ever do this to yourself. You will learn stuff and you WILL die. In college, you have three options. Good grades, sleep, and some semblance of a social life. You can pick two. I’ve given up sleep. Unfortunately, blogging doesn’t really fit in there, but I miss declaring my inner rantings on the internet for all the world to read…So here I am, writing this post in my Journalism class, my teacher’s voice droning on and on and on...I hear him talking, but I don’t know what he’s saying. Blogging is journalism…right? Yes. Justified. Oh, on a completely unrelated note, I have created a new blog for this class. If you want to know more, go to americascaffeinebuzz.blogspot.com.

            Anyway, back to mornings. They’re terrible. I hate them. Let’s face it. Mornings would be better if they happened in the afternoon. This semester, all of my classes start at 7:45 or 8:00 am. And still, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I rejoice for that extra 15 minutes. However, I am a sadistic, self-destructive psycho who wakes up way earlier than is natural for no apparent reason. I’ve essentially destroyed my ability to sleep at night. If it was possible to train yourself to become an insomniac, that is what I’ve done. I sleep better during the day than I do at night. Why? Because I wake up at freaking 4:00 am every morning, that’s why! I find it easier to focus on my homework in the wee hours of the morning because I have the attention span of a gnat…or a squirrel…on drugs. I need to do work when the world is dead and all is quiet. Otherwise, ADD will cloud my existence and I will fail at life. And now, my sleep cycle hits a wall at 4:00 am whether I want it to or not.

            There is an advantage to waking up before everyone else though. My roommates will never see firsthand how strange/clumsy/awkward/retarded I am during the mornings. Seriously, I feel awake, but my brain doesn’t function properly. Here is an illustration of my most recent morning antics:

'Nuff said...

Party Like It's 2012!

            So, apparently this is the last year before the end of the world or whatever. I don’t believe this at all, and I’m very much looking forward to watching 2012 on January 1, 2013. However, I do think it’s time for some serious New Year’s Resolutions, what with the world ending pretty soon and whatnot. So what’ll it be this year? What mundane life changes will I subject myself to for a while and then wordlessly abandon about halfway through January? I don’t really understand the purpose of a New Year’s Resolution because essentially you’re trying to make drastic life changes in the time it takes for the clock to change from 11:59 pm (New Year’s Eve) to 12:00 am (New Year’s Day). It just doesn’t work. Self-improvement is a work in progress, an accomplishment reached by making every day better than the last. I mean, just think about it. If your New Year’s Resolution was to drink less alcohol…I’m pretty sure well over half of the American population failed that one just last night…

           

            The number one most popular New Year’s Resolution is to exercise and eat healthy foods, which I think everyone could use a little more of. I’m pretty sure my life is an endless battle between my love for food and my desire to not be fat, and oddly I’m okay with that. I just love food way too much. I eat when I’m happy. I eat when I’m sad. I eat when I’m stressed. I eat when I’m bored. I eat when I can’t sleep (which is most nights). Let’s face it, working out “when I feel like it” is not a great strategy. Whenever I’m laying on my couch thinking “Maybe I should work out today,” I just eat something until the feeling passes. And then I feel guilty, which makes me eat more. It’s a vicious cycle. If I didn’t have an Asian metabolism, I would be really fat. When watching The Biggest Loser is a stressful activity, you know you have problems. I’m the type of person who probably should not be watching reality television. I get way too into it. The Biggest Loser is just too much for me to handle. Whoever named that show was ironically cruel. I mean, to commend obese people for adopting a healthy lifestyle while simultaneously mocking them? Brilliant. But cruel. Anyway, this show stresses me out for two reasons. 1) I feel like I should work out more because I’m afraid that Jillian Michaels is going to show up at my door and brutally murder me if I let myself get fat. And 2) People on that show typically lose like 200 pounds…This concept freaks me out because I feel like if I ever lost 200 pounds…I would cease to exist. I could work myself right out of existence. So maybe, I SHOULDN’T work out…New Year’s Resolution? Watch less reality television.  

            In all seriousness though, I am determined to make this year better than last year. So my official New Year’s Resolution for 2012 is this: Live as if the world was ending. Walk a little taller. Work a little harder. Be a little kinder. Let the people I love know I love them. Happy New Year, everyone! Now, go forth and BE AWESOME. 

Another One Bites The Dust

            I took a beginning journalism class my freshman year in college, and one of the assignments that stuck with me was one where we were told to write our own obituaries. I was halfway through composing a gripping, yet touching story of my own gruesome demise, when my teacher added “Now, don’t get cute.”  What’s that supposed to mean?! This story was anything but cute…Since then, I’ve put a lot of serious thought into how I would prefer to die. I’m not morbid, but it’s something interesting to think about. Some people would like to die a quiet, painless death at an old age. I think I’d prefer to go out with a bang, which brings me to my final decision. When my time comes, I want to get eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex…in space. This, I think, is the coolest possible way to die.

In a way, I’ve been planning this since I was four years old. I was OBSESSED with dinosaurs, to the point where I cried and tore my best friend apart with my vicious four-year-old rhetoric when she knocked the head off my T-Rex piñata at my birthday party. That curly-haired, flat-nosed, frilly-dress-wearing dinosaur murderer didn’t stand a chance. Moral of the story? Dinosaurs trump friends. Everytime. I asked my mom to buy me a new Barbie doll, not because I wanted to give her makeovers and dress her all pretty-like, but because my toy dinosaurs were hungry. Dinosaurs were my life.

T-Rex Food

            I had already decided that I wanted to be a paleontologist when I grew up (Yes, I could totally say that word at the age of four). Why? Well, because I’d seen Jurassic Park, that’s why. I was thoroughly convinced that THAT was the life of a paleontologist: run around on Isna Sorna and avoid getting eaten by ferocious scaly beasts. I was crushed when I found out that in reality, paleontologists have kind of a sucky job. This discovery was devastating for me, because at the age of 9, I had to change my entire life’s plan. So inconvenient. How will I ever make a name for myself in this cruel world? That’s when I decided that if I can’t accomplish anything of note, I might as well die in the most memorable way possible.

Oh, but my plans don’t stop there. After my untimely demise, I plan to put the “fun” in funeral. I strongly believe that my funeral should be a reflection of my life, so I planned it all out. There will be space and dinosaur decorations, carnival rides, costumes. Oh, and I want them to play “Another One Bites The Dust!” The point is that when I’m gone, I don’t want people to be sad. I want them to celebrate who I was, and this way, my loved ones won’t know whether to laugh or cry. They will be confused and entertained. Yes, yes. Those are my plans. And after all is said and done, I will go down in history as the girl who died by space T-Rex. Someday, somehow.

"Easy" Bake?

            Oh, hi there! Where am I? What is this place? A blog? My blog, you say? Oh yeah…I do have a blog…And I do write in it sometimes. Just not in December, I guess. Well, we’ll just have to fix this, won’t we? I apologize to all two of my readers for my little disappearing act. I’ve just been working like a slave so that I’ll be able to feed myself next semester at school, no big. But enough about me…It’s almost Christmas!!!

            If you can’t tell, I’m so freakin’ excited. SO FREAKIN’ EXCITED! I love Christmas with all my soul. I mean, yes, all the holly jolly Christmas music is truly awful and a bit overkill. But what I love about Christmas is that it brings back so many great childhood memories like making cookies with my mom or playing in the snow with my dad, and attempting to build the tallest, mightiest snowman our small apartment complex had ever seen. Christmas was a magical time for me growing up, and it still is, but for different reasons. For instance, now I realize exactly how much crap my parents had to go through to make Christmas morning perfect…and how unappreciative I was in return. When I was little, if my sister and I broke a toy, my mom would scream: “Do you have ANY idea how much that cost?!” To which I would smile innocently and reply in a sing-songy voice: “Nothing! ‘Cuz Santa got it for me.” Santa got ALL the credit. I’m sure my mom wanted to spill the beans right then and there, forever ruining Christmas for me. But no, she let me maintain my childhood delusions, even if I was a spoiled brat. Christmas used to be about Santa and presents and treats. Now, it’s about the time I get to spend with the people I love most.

Fred the Snowman--Winter 2010

            Now, there’s one thing that completely baffles me about Christmas, and that is the kind of presents I used to ask Santa for as a kid. One year, I wanted a Betty Spaghetti. Why? Beats me. I guess I really liked bending my dolls into impossible “yoga” positions. Another year I wanted a Baby Alive doll. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it the whole point of a fake baby that you don’t have to feed or change it? Just sayin’. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Furbies. Those things are so creepy, and I’m thankful my parents never actually got me one. It probably would have revolted and killed me in my sleep. The one thing I asked for every single year, though, was an Easy Bake Oven. I begged my parent year after year to get me one, and when they didn’t budge I begged Santa. When I finally got my Easy Bake Oven, I jumped around and squealed like any little girl would. I was so excited, but that excitement faded as I spent a good four hours on Christmas morning trying to bake a tiny brownie with my nifty new toy. What I didn’t take into account in hoping for this gift was that I suck at cooking, and I have the attention span of a squirrel. I ran off and played with all my other toys, and when I came back, my brownie was charcoal. My Easy Bake Oven taught me that I’m no Betty Crocker. Remember when I said I used to make cookies with my mom? I actually meant I watched her bake cookies while I ate all the cookie dough. Truth is, I can’t bake to save my life. Seriously, if one day some diabolical mastermind held a gun to my head and told me to make toast, I’d be toast. But, you’ve got to admit, it must take SOME skill to scorch a brownie with a 40 watt light bulb…

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...

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