I always used to think that the reason I never do as well as I should in my classes is because I am a spazz and I can’t figure out how to remember assignments or how to turn them in. Growing up and even in college I have notoriously been an amazing test taker but when it comes to papers, assignments, and projects I always fall short. When I have to regurgitate knowlege that my teachers give me I get amazing grades but when I have to think for myself I find that I simply don’t think. And it’s definitely not because I’m stupid because I KNOW that I am smart. I’ve inherited both my fathers creativity and my mothers straight intelegence. And I KNOW I am a good problem solver because I work with kids. And KNOW I have a scientific mind because I can formulate and make eductated hypotheses and ask countless scientific questions since my notebooks are full of them.
So taking all that into account I am going to formulate my own theory: I’m uncomfortable with being the innovater in a situation. I’ve been taught to be the one learning things from other people. I was not supposed to question my teachers. I was supposed to get the answer right and not to try things that deviated from the path. I was never taught how in an academic setting knowlege can be best attained from trial and error. I would have gotten points taken off of assignments for being the kid that asked another question instead of answering the one that the teacher gave to me. I would have gotten points taken off for being a scientist in science class. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT! Because now, in college, I have to do years of backtracking in order to write papers where I take a chance an formulate a hypothesis based on prior knowlege and evidence AND I may be totally and completely off. In college, I have to go through the trials and the errors. But Im afraid to. Because I was always taught that it was the wrong answer. And I’ve always hated to be wrong.
I have always been a spontaneous person and have always had an undeniable thirst for adventure. But recently, this habit has become an obsession and this want has become a need. I can barely go a week without being pulled out the door and up a mountain or to the ocean or through a forest by some unseeable force. It all comes without warning too. I’ll be focusing on a completely normal activity and then all of a sudden an image of a place I’d rather be or just the desire to be somewhere else pops into my head. If I try to push it away, it pushes back harder. Until I’m lacing my hiking boots and grabbing my car keys. I realize that the longer I stay SLO the stronger my desire will be to leave it. Because my natural state is wandering and I’ve got a gypsy soul to blame.
I just want to pose the question: Have you ever danced and sang around your kitchen?
Not in your bedroom. That doesn’t count. Its something about the kitchen thats special especially when your with someone else and baking something. I don’t know what it is but its super liberating and elating. And let me tell you, I have probably danced around my kitchen HUNDREDS of times. Its more of an every day thing for me. Usually after dinner with my dad and sister to country music. But anyway, the best part about it is that it never loses its power. No matter how many times you do it!
I tend to stop when I go to school when I am a little bit more embarassed but this year I am determined to keep dancing in the kitchen. I don’t care anymore. I’ll just have to convert all of my friends and roommates into kitchen dancers too. So that there are no awkward dancing by myself with everybody watching moments. It’s a flawless plan really.
I think there are two kinds of people in this world. People that you have strong emotion toward or people that you are indifferent about. Thats why i think a lot of people tend to hate someone when they break up whatever the circumstances of the breakup are. They cant go back to indifference and the alternative is to remain in love and long for the person that you inevitably have to leave. Its a lot easier to associate that person with a negative emotion and move on than to still love them and move on.
Two weekends ago, I made my return to the grandiose land of debauchery that the students who attend Cal Poly refer fondly to as SLO. This stint of return was brief, alas, because 1) I was staying with a friend and have nowhere to live there and 2) I had jury duty on Monday. However, though the days I spent in SLO were brief, I acquired something of great importance there… a new friendship. This friendship was born upon me saving my new companions body and soul from the clutches of sure demise, for the people that had once owned him had thrown him out on the cold streets to most likely been thrown away in the next collection of trash and put into a landfill. How he would have suffered in a landfill with nothing to protect him from the rank advances of other lost souls that had been discarded like trash by their owners as well. What a desolate place to be. But we need not worry about that now because I saved him.
His name is Darth Vader and he is a piggy bank with no money. Filled to the brim with nothing but empty space. He hasn’t anything, not even a light saber, though it is evident that the one he once had was torn away sometime ago in his past life in a struggle with his previous benefactor. He has a voice though. He sings out the merry tunes of the Death Star remembering a past life. A good life where he ruled a great expanse of the known universe.
So what I set out to do with this new friendship is simply to fill the empty spaces within Darth’s soul and set him back on his path to pure evil. Mending a heart that has been broken by neglect and malignancy. Because isn’t the impact we have on others our only legacy that matters in the end?
So I am sitting in the library (typical dead week activity) attempting to study but instead distracting myself with pinterest (also typical) and I come across this super dee duper cute montage of lion pictures.
The only problem is that for the first 30 second of me looking at this I don’t even realize there are any lions in the picture because I am too busy checking out the open soil face that is in the background of the picture because I am a total nerd. Seriously… my life.
Whats all this fuss about? Feminists everywhere are pissed off about the new revamp in Merida from the movie Brave who is apparently the most real disney princess ever and shows young girls that it is alright to be average looking. The revamp sexualized her and gave her “unachievable” wide hips and makeup. And everyone is ALL pissed off. I just don’t get it.
The thing I don’t get most is why disney’s edition of putting makeup on her and dressing her in a better outfit is wrong. External image and professional attire means everything these days. In a society with a competitive job market and advertisements and a constant push to be the next new thing, appearance is everything. It is so important that it is becoming apparent in the way disney characters are made. There is nothing wrong with that. Teaching a child that appearance is important is not such a bad thing and can help them later on in life. And I am not only talking about physical appearance but instead the overall way a person in perceived. If you want to be successful you have to act successful and if you want people to perceived you as nice you have to act nice. This whole disney character revamp is just marketing and so what if they are wearing a little makeup and are a bit sexualized. A little makeup and sexualization can be a girls best weapon against a world dominated by men and I will be the first one to use that technique. So I’m all for the revamp disney. You market the shit out of your disney princesses.
Seriously, if people could hear my thoughts they would never want to talk to me again. I think mean thoughts about people’s outfits, people’s hair, people’s faces, people’s personalities, you name it. I’m not perfect, i know that, but I pass judgement on others anyway. For example, a guy just walked by me and accidentally kicked the chair in front of me and even though he was sorta cute, in my head I just thought, “dork.” The stupid thing about this is that I am a super dork and I trip over things all the time, so why do I think asshole comments about people when THEY trip? I have no idea.
Today, I burned my finger on my curling iron and then because it was so humid outside all my curls fell out within an hour. Basically I feel like the world just gave me the middle finger and told me, “go fuck yourself.”