Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Summer-geddon 2011

As you can see, that last post is from one of my student Conference Assistants, who mistakenly logged onto my blog, instead of the summer "time card" blog.  I thought he was kidding when he said he blogged in on my account and that he was very sorry.
... I see now that he was not. haha
My first thought was to delete it, but it (and he) are so endearing, I think I'll just leave it.  Besides, it serves me right for looking at my personal gmail at work.

I have never really done well with good-byes.  As in, I become highly emotional.  Not so much in a... I'm going to collapse into tears... more that... approximately a week or two before departure, I feel everything at a heightened level.  One word for this: Yikes.

I think because this has been such a fast, crazy summer, it's even more intense than usual.  Commence Summer-geddon.  Yes, you read correctly.  That is the name for this week.

Self-explanatory, no?

And, of course, none of this is helped by the fact that I seem to have a raging, continuous migraine that simply can't be tamed.  I feel like I'm wearing a horcrux.  (Neverending nerdy comments...)  I feel unbalanced.  I feel like there's... excess.  Just... oozing out of my brain.

I am ready to not feel this way anymore.
But then that would mean it's over.  Ay.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The line...

First of all, I'd like to draw attention to the fact that I am on blogging-fire!
Don't get used to it.  I fully expect this to end in approximately 3 weeks, when I return to my full-time Graduate Hall Director/ Student gig.

But while I'm sharing just about every thought in my head with you... here's another one that you might not like.

So... I pride myself on actually being pretty comfortable with most things, especially as it pertains to roommates. I find that as I get older, I find more things really gross, which is unfortunate...  for example, I used to not care about stray hairs around the sink and/or shower.  Now they make me gag a little.  Especially if they are clearly not mine.  And wet.  *gag*

But, anyway, aside from that... pretty comfortable being very open and personal with you from the get-go.
Those of you who know me are thinking, "Hmm.. standard.  Yes.  With you so far."
My roommate and I do laundry together.
Which might seem a little fast, as we've only known each other for about four weeks... but we moved in with each other about 5 seconds after meeting, so what can you expect, right?

Anyway.  Terrible jokes aside, we do our laundry together mainly because we don't have our own washer and dryer and have been relegated to bumming off of the other resident directors.  Which they are all extremely gracious about.  But... let's be honest.  It's still a little awkward, as we are intruding into their homes and evenings.  Often more than once.  So, we combine to try to intrude as infrequently as possible.

As such, we tend to sort and fold each other's laundry too.  Because we're nice like that.

I don't mind folding other people's underwear.  Really, if you think about it, it's clean, and it just covers the butt, so... whatever.
You cannot tell me that when you go to fold somebody else's thong, the first thought that pops in your mind is not, "... Oh my God.  This was in. your. butt."

And then it's over.
Really.  Once you have that thought, you just can't continue.

Or at least I couldn't.

So... I folded everything nice and neat... and then left a pile of vaguely wadded underwear to the side.
I am sorry, roommate.  That is just a line we cannot cross.

Also.  completely unrelated:
Please go to this website.
And then, please scroll through the first seven pictures at the bottom.  Then laugh loudly.  Thank you.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I'll put a flower in your hair...

I've never been a huge flower person.
As in... I really don't know anything about flowers.
Or their names.
Which is unfortunate if someone asks you, "Ooh!  What's your favorite flower?"  because you either must say, "er... the.. pretty one?" or something generic, like, "oh.. you know... roses."
But... I've always found them so beautiful.  Recently, while in California, I walked into Trader Joe's (love this store.), and saw the most beautiful flowers for sale.

They turned out to be peonies (a bouquet for 5 dollars!), which... three weeks later, I still regret not buying. haha  And now, I'm obsessed with peonies.  They are just so big and fluffy and delicious (visually, not actually).

Apparently, they are also the number 5 most popular flower used at weddings.  I'm not a real girl, nor do I ever go to weddings, so I would have no idea about this.

But anyway.  Recent fascination.  Thought I'd share.  (Buy me peonies.)


...No?  Not subtle enough for subliminal messaging?  Rats.

Monday, July 11, 2011

One of many...

...of my pet peeves is reading something that is so poorly written (spelling, grammatically, syntax, etc.) that it literally looks like someone dropped words at random into a sentence.

This is irritating for a number of obvious reasons:
1.) I can't understand what you're trying to say to me.
2.) The self-righteous part of me feels like (depending who I've received this garbly-goop from) you probably should know how to write correct English by now.
3.) I have received this in a professional/ work memo.
4.) It's a waste of everyone's time trying to figure out the encoded message.
5.) It's pretty sad for the English language in an abstract sense.
.. and etc.
And obviously this does not pertain to a few typos because you were in a hurry.  Or if you are using English as your second language.  Or you have a learning disability.  Or you're golden, minus the fact that you can't distinguinsh "your" and "you're".
But.  I need to be able to read the thoughts you are trying to get out of your brain.

Okay.  But... really.  What is more frustrating about this is that we are graduating students from college who cannot write.  We are graduating students who use words in the wrong context (and spell them incorrectly).  We are graduating students who consistently use run-on sentences or the wrong tense in term papers and work letters.  I know that I've definitely had this conversation with a few of my colleagues before.  But I just don't understand.  What is happening?  Surely, this can't all be the downhill spiral of the English language because of technology.  I can understand people getting sloppy with spelling because they are dependent on Spell Check (it irks me, but at least it makes sense).
Is it just because people aren't reading enough as children and young adults?  Is it because our public education is not sufficient?  I have attended public school my entire life (and proud of it), and I would consider myself a decent writer.  So... what is happening?  Where are we missing the fact that students can't write? And... when did we decide that that was okay?

I'm not saying that all of these students are stupid or clearly incapable of functioning in the work place.   Obviously not.  Written communication is only a piece of that.  But if the written word is typically considered such an essential part of communication both personally and professionally, why have we relinquished it as a basic requirement for "going into the real world"?  Boo.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Living Alone is like Pringles...

Once you pop you just won't stop.
Living Alone, the newest tasty snack.  Or as I like to call it,
"Ridin' Solo".  I'm not going to lie... I've always wondered
what I'd look like with the Pringles-man's crazy moustache.
Or... at least you won't want to.

I like to think that I typically live well with others (sans my slob-ness).  I was one of those lucky brats that moved to college and had a first-year roomie that rocked my socks/ later became one of my best friends.  In fact, when I first moved to BG, I was relatively lonely (especially in the beginning) after four years of roommate living.

But then I got used to it.  "It" being living alone.  And now, living with a roommate, I find, is really difficult.  You find that you get used to a routine.  Or you at least get used to not having to consider other people.  But actually... it's not the considering other people part that I struggle with so much... it's the other people, who are also used to living alone, not considering me.

Don't get me wrong... I do miss walking around in various states of undress whenever I choose  (Oh please.  We all do it.)  And I'm sure not all roommate living is the experience that I am currently having.  And realistically, it's not even that bad.  No one has been pistol-whipped with a hair straightener (...yet).  I think that I have just been spoiled with great roommate living before this.

And as much as I like my roommate, it is undeniable that my one-person,  still messy expanse of an apartment calls to me from across the country.

I hear you, apartment.  I hear you.

Friday, July 1, 2011

"Working" on a Friday afternoon...

I feel as though I have been abnormally sluggish in my work ethic lately.  Or... really more.. slothish.
Like this:
Now.  You  may be asking, "Why does this sloth look vaguely homeless and live in a box inside of a dumpster?"
That's a good question.  I asked myself that same thing.  I'm not sure.  Yet.  This still seems to be appropriate to how I'm feeling right now.  haha.  Because, he somehow still looks generally content, right?  If not a little sleepy/ stoned.  And while, I must iterate for my own credibility, I am not stoned, my brain feels a little mushy today.

Note to self:  Stop drinking caffeine after 9 PM.  You will not sleep.  And then your brain will be mush.  And then you will over-compensate by drinking too much Diet Coke the next day.  And then your brain will be mush.  On CRACK.  Which explains why this blog is making no sense.

But while we're talking about sloths (and crack?) ... Aren't sloths CUTE?
I mean... just look at this little fur-nugget!

Which also led me to THIS discovery.:
Clearly.  I really want this necklace now.  When would I wear it?  Always.  Really?  No.

They have other adorable necklaces as well... like monkies, kiwi birds, and anteaters.  I'll go ahead and plug for them here.

Okay.  Now that I have inundated you with... nothingness.  I will stop.
End scene.