Thursday, March 24, 2011

Let me see if you can run it, run it.

Today, I ran three miles.

No, it wasn't toward a hot dog stand, or away from a zombie. I'll be honest: I joined a gym. It's an even worse sign of the apocalypse than if I had been chased down by a gang flesh-eating zombie pirates.

There were many factors leading to this investment, the main one being my stubborn ass friend. She has always been on the larger side due to genetics and a fondness for lounging around, but after developing a significant crush, she wants to lose weight. As any lazy person knows, it is difficult to find the motivation necessary for exercising without a partner there to annoy you. Apparently, that's where I come into the equation.

We decided that "early" morning (for us, 9am is like the break of dawn) would be the best time to work out, if it had to happen at all. Hayli was about twenty minutes late this morning, so I got on the treadmill without her. Typical. By the time she arrived, I had already run a mile, which equaled me desperately wishing someone would just take me out of my misery. Another mile later, I was ready to crawl out to my car, wheezing as I went. Unfortunately, Hayli wasn't quite ready yet, and convinced me to run yet another mile.

Kill me now.

This wouldn't be so bad, except the exact same thing is going to happen tomorrow... and the day after that. And the day after that. For the rest of my life.

Am I being dramatic? Sure, of course I am. That's my innate nature. The point is, I don't enjoy exercise. Some people may find it therapeutic, but I am certainly not one of them. Complaints aside though, I really do think this is a positive development in my life. And it can only go uphill from here, right?

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


When did behaving disrespectfully become okay?

My best friend has recently been a victim of cyber bullying. Considering her situation and the Rebecca Black phenomenon occurred simultaneously, this issue has been frequenting my thoughts as of late. I have endless complaints about that type of behavior, many of which have been covered by other (video)bloggers concerning the uproar of trolling that followed "Friday". However, something that I haven't seen discussed but still can't understand is the point of expressing such hatred through rudeness.

What possible benefit could these people get from making someone feel worse about themselves? It makes no sense to me. People commented on "Friday", telling RB that they hope she cuts herself and dies. Let's just take a moment to consider that. If she really did kill herself, would the person who left that comment feel better about their own lives, or even the world of music in general? I certainly hope not. So why post something so offensive in the first place?

My lovely friend's peers have been tweeting insulting things about her. I won't go into specifics, but beyond my defensive anger on her behalf, I mostly just feel baffled. What was the intent? If these tweets made her cry, would that make them happy? Really? I have never, not once in my entire life, wanted to make someone feel insecure or question their self-worth. Obviously, these people aren't really considering the possible ramifications of their actions. Choosing to insult someone in a public forum such as the internet, where you can never really take it back, is never the right thing to do. It is immature, disrespectful, rude, et cetera et cetera.

So why do people do it? In what way does it improve their own lives? Hurting someone else's feelings never really makes anyone feel better about themselves. I can't comprehend how it would be in any way satisfying. I believe in constructive criticism, but there is a clear difference between that and unwarranted insults.

Just... gah! Be classy, people. Think before you type.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I don't deserve a driver's license.

I am the worst driver. Ever.

This realization hit me as I was making a video for my YouTube channel today. I swear, all I ever talk about is car trouble and Disney films. I had always considered myself an average driver, but suddenly it donned on me that I am wayyyyy below par. 

Just look at my track record:

- In the first month after I received my license, I got pulled over because my brights were on. When the officer informed me of this, I exclaimed, "I have brights?!" 

- Later that month, I hit a car in a parking lot. There was no damage, but still. It was not a proud moment for me.

- During my third month driving, I totaled my car. The truck that I hit had zero damage, but the front of my Jetta crumpled like an accordion. 

- Last month, someone hit me and then drove away. Five minutes later, I got stuck in a snow bank. 

- Three days ago, I backed over an extremely large television. It scraped up the side of my vehicle, and the TV might as well have exploded. 

I haven't even been driving for a year and a half. This is not the most impressive resumé, I admit. Throughout the first six months, if anyone asked me for a ride, I would say, "Sure. But, as a disclaimer, you might die."

Friday, March 11, 2011

I'm like a rebel without a cause.

My parents have always viewed me as an adult. I was independent, able to take care of myself, and they acknowledged that fact by letting me make my own decisions. Because of this, I have never felt the need to rebel.  There was simply nothing to rebel against; I have never had a curfew, never been grounded. When I leave the house, no one asks where I'm going. It is pretty hard to break the rules when they don't exist in the first place. 

I suppose most teenagers feel that need to rebel because otherwise, they are too dependent. If you don't make your own choices throughout your entire childhood, how will you take care of yourself when you're suddenly alone in the real world?  At least breaking rules and making mistakes leads to learning. However, like I said, I don't feel compelled to make stupid decisions. I never have, instead living vicariously through my friend, the girl who sends me drunken texts while at a party or calls me in a panic when she's tripping out on whatever drugs she was given. Whenever she would ask me if I wanted a drag or tried to convince me that it really is fun to get hammered with a bunch of strangers, I would decline, forever the designated driver. 

Being the responsible one has had its benefits. I've always been trusted to make the right decision because I have an excellent track record. This has led to a level of freedom that my friends can't even comprehend. Plus, people really respect my opinion. Adults actually listen to me when I speak, and my peers trust my advice. This is something that really only comes with maturity, which I assume is the reason that I don't see the point in the mindless fun of rule-breaking. 

You can probably see this coming, but things changed tonight. My friend was smoking a cigarette, and instead of acting like it was mandatory for me to have one as well, she casually offered it. That had to be the breaking point. I don't respond well to pressure; if I originally don't think something is a great idea, trying to bully me into it will not change my mind. However, when it seemed like an opportunity as opposed to an order, I thought, why not? Sure, I don't plan on it becoming a habit because it is extremely unhealthy, but I live for experiences.  Maybe I'm too curious of a person, but I like to form my opinions based on personal experience over prejudice. 

Now, my hair smells like smoke. 

I feel pretty apathetic. Fortunately, I didn't embarrass myself by coughing or anything, but I don't think it really enriched my life in any way. It didn't taste good or bad, and the filter kept it from burning my throat. Honestly, I felt nothing. I expected to absolutely abhor smoking, as I always thought it was such a disgusting habit, but I didn't hate it.  On the other hand, I don't feel compelled to smoke ever again. I'm sure my lungs will thank me.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

I am the queen of inappropriate reactions.

I laugh... at everything. No matter what emotion I am feeling, if it is strong or unexpected, I burst out in a hysterical fit of laughter.

So, my mom got laid off from her job today. She worked at Sallie Mae, a company that mainly dealt with student loans. For the past year or so they have been struggling as a business, and therefore have had to "terminate the working contract" of people in waves. Every previous time people were going to lose their jobs, rumors would begin circulating at least a week in advance. Their supervisors would then inevitably break the news on a Friday. Well, it's just my mom's luck that she would lose her job on a Thursday when no one had any inkling that it would happen.

When she got the news, she called me. Her voice was surprisingly cheerful when I answered, seeming as if she was simply having a slow day at work.

As a disclaimer, I absolutely detest idle phone conversations. When I receive a call from someone who should be aware that I am busy, I tend to get a bit impatient. This was apparent in my voice as I snapped, "Hello?"

"Hey, honey, are you at home?" my mother asked breezily. She sounded as if she was trying not to laugh, like someone in her vicinity had just cracked a joke.

Her inquiry made me instantly suspicious, assuming that she needed some sort of a favor. "No, I'm at work," I replied, my voice abrupt. I work the same hours every day, and yet we seem to constantly have this exact same conversation.

"Oh, okay. Well, I got laid off this morning," she told me, maintaining her upbeat tone of voice.

I didn't even skip a beat before saying the first thing that popped into my head. "But... it's not even Friday." Then I laughed. That has to be the worst way I could have reacted to her news, but I am ashamed to admit that this is exactly what happened.

Fortunately, my mother is basically just an older version of me, so we tend to react to things in the same way. She cracked up right along with me, assuring me that she will be fine. Her severance package is great, and she already has a couple of interviews lined up. I came home about an hour after this conversation, and we have spent the rest of the day together, erupting into giggles for no reason at all. Maybe we don't react to bad news in the healthiest way, but at least we haven't been reduced to puddles of tears. It is a lot easier to remain positive while laughing irrationally, as opposed to moping around all depressed. Right?

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

It's like eating a tree.

I am experiencing the strangest craving right now... salad. Maybe that isn't such a notable occurrence for everyone, but it definitely is for me. I loathe salad. Okay, that is a little melodramatic, but it's not something that I would typically pick out to eat. And yet, right now I am debating on driving around in search of a twenty-four hour grocery store. My deepest wish of the moment is to fill a bowl with something healthy and then smother it in fattening dressing, just to balance it out. My body might go into shock because of the change from my normal diet, aka cheez-its, popcorn, and ice cream washed down with coca-cola.

I thought writing these thoughts down might stop them from taking over my brain completely, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. I'm considering going outside and munching on the nearest tree. Am I losing my mind? Possibly.

Have you ever had a simple culinary craving drive you insane? It tends to only happen to me when I am majorly stressing out. Now that I think about it, it is probably a subconscious distraction tactic. Like I'm so focused on whatever problem I am dealing with that suddenly an image of a certain type of food pops into my head, sure to take over my thoughts completely and help calm me down. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with food, a guarantee that when my metabolism inevitably slows, I will gain around a thousand pounds.

On the other hand, I can't help but think that this is a sign. I need to at least attempt to be healthier, as opposed to sitting on my ass, eating raw spaghetti and blogging. Wow, actually typing that made it evident that I have hit rock bottom without even realizing it. How embarrassing. Clearly, the fact that I would actually rather be eating lettuce than chips right now is my body warning me that it's all downhill from here if I keep on this path, eating everything in my way.

Or maybe it's just a craving. Yeah, I'm definitely reading too much into it.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Ever been haunted?

So, I have this eerie feeling that I am being haunted by a squirrel.

I know, I know, I sound totally insane. All I ask is that you hear the whole story before you call the nice people in the white coats to come cart me away.

While I'm driving, I always swerve slightly to avoid hitting anything in the road. Live animals, dead animals, Burger King bags, leaves... you name it. If it is in the street, I will spaz out slightly and miss it. (Sure, maybe that makes me an irresponsible and dangerously erratic driver, but that is not the point of this tale.) Well, my streak of never hitting anything while behind the wheel ended this afternoon on my way home from work.

It wasn't alive, just to clear that up. Yes, I am aware that most people disregard road kill, but I found it absolutely sickening to accidentally drive over it. Throughout the rest of the short commute home, I calmed myself down enough to stop gagging, and that's when I heard it. There was this really creepy sound that I couldn't quite place coming from somewhere in or around my vehicle after I'd parked in my driveway. I've never heard a squirrel make a noise before, but I swear, this was totally squirrel-speech for "I'mma get you, bitch!" Am I being overdramatic? Maybe a tad.

Anyway, it just got weirder. At about eleven at night, I was driving from my dad's house to my mother's, when all the streetlights turned off. After a moment in total darkness, they came back on, but began flickering and turning off one by one as I passed them. I swear, it was like a scene from a horror film, brought into my life.

Okay, okay. I don't believe in ghosts or spirits, so it is a sheer impossibility that a dead squirrel could be hunting me down. All I'm saying is, if I never post anything again, you know who (or what) the culprit is. TTFN until next time (hopefully).