Most everyone I know is down to a matter of a few weeks or less before being out for school. Let me tell ya, I am ready, but at the same time I'm not. My plans for the summer aren't really very exciting or anything out of the ordinary. I look forward to it just as though I were going to vacation. Instead I am going home to work. Work, Matchew, and the fam. I am excited for all three of those things. And I miss them all quite a bit - some more than others of course.
Now, I've been trying to think of ways to inspire comments from my readers. I understand most of you don't think you can comment directly on the blog, but that is not a difficult problem to solve my friends! Just become a follower, you may have to create a user name and password, but thats really as difficult as it gets. (This is super easy if you already have a google account.) I'm also all for comments via facebook if you just want to do that.
So any ways, I digress. In order to inspire more comments from you guys I would like to know what your plans are for the summer. What you're looking forward too, what you're not. Those kind of things. Now, don't be scared, comment.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Face Value
In the previous blog you all got to take a look at a few pictures of my trip, but I didn't tell you all very much about the point of the trip, and that was to compete in the National Phi Rho Pi Speech and Debate tournament. Being able to attended and compete in this tournament is an accomplishment in itself. Phi Rho Pi is one of the oldest forensics organizations in the nation having been founded in 1939.
At the tournament I competed in five events: Impromptu, Extemporaneous, Lincoln-Douglas Debate, Parlimentary Debate, and Program of Oral Interpretation. (If anyone would like any elaboration on what these events are/consist of, just ask and I'll explain). Even though I didn't make it into the finals rounds in any of these events I still had many moments of personal success and achievement in each round. In Impromptu I was ridiculously ecstatic because in my second round I was given the opportunity to quote and analyze two of my favorite artists, Aesop Rock and Atmosphere. I was proud of myself for not panicking and for simply surviving my Extemp rounds, its a terrifying event if you ask me. In LD I was also proud for surviving, and for putting up a fight in each round. Even though I had no clue as to what I was doing, I still did my best. In Parli, I was a hybrid. Which means that my partner was a debater from another school. He happened to be Glen Prell from Northwest College in Powell, Wyoming. Regardless of what our record is on paper, I feel as though Glen and I debated phenomenally! I really do, we frustrated many a team that week with our quick wit and logic, and man was it loads of fun (I love Parli just fyi).
Now my POI, this is a piece that I have become quite attached to over the season. The entire work is put together and cut by myself, with some help and a lot of encouragement from my amazing coach Jessica Hurless. Jessica and I have discovered that I need pieces that hold personal meaning for me in them in order for me to be successful with them, and that is exactly what we achieved with this piece. I truly believe every bit of the message within this piece, and because of my attachment to it and the sadness I feel for never being able to perform it again I want to share it with all of you. Let me know what you think! The piece is composed of excerpts from four different works, enjoy.
When I was just a little girl I asked my mother
What will I be? Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
And the pretty question infects from conception
Passing blood and breath into cells
The word hangs from our mother's hearts
in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry
Will I be wanted, worthy, pretty?
There was a girl named Annie
She had a very pretty face
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
When one types the word pretty into a google search engine, 360 million results appear in less than half a second. This small, seemingly insignificant six letter word has forced an entire culture to question: "Am I pretty?" When the real question needing to be asked is: Why would we want to be?
Merriam Webster defines pretty as: having conventionally acceptable elements of beauty; appearing or sounding pleasant or nice, but lacking in strength, purpose, and intensity.
Face Value, a program that through the poetry Pretty by Katie Makai, Annie by Safetysuit, drama Reasons to be Pretty by Neil Labute, and prose Miss World of Wheels by Jennifer Burnbaum, challenges each of us to wipe away these conventionally acceptable elements of beauty and gain back our strength, purpose, and intensity in life. Face Value.
As a child, I had small hair. It was short and androgynous, courtesy of my parents, who insisted that - with what they called my "elfin" chin and petite physique - I would look best...with a buzz cut.
"Can I help you son?" shop clerks would ask during this phase of my youth.
"I'm a girl!"
Not saying that this is full of profound insight or anything but any woman I know, like, my age or younger, she's gonna be super upset if she hears what I did. That her boyfriend thinks "oh yeah honey, your face is...okay." There's no way to swallow that down and find a way to come back up smiling. You know what I mean?
Why do we feel this way though? Is it maybe TV and magazines, or maybe its our moms telling us "sweetheart you're pretty no matter what"....I'm not really sure.
The first time I remember feeling consistently pretty was age ten, when I finally go to grow out my hair and would create elaborate hairstyles in the bathroom before school while my five year old sister, Jessica, gazed at me from her perch on the toilet, enraptured.
But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad
Teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey long,
and pox marks where the hormones when fingerpainting.
My poor mother, "How could this happen?
You will have porcelain skin as soon as we see a dermatologist.
You sucked your thumb, that is why your teeth are crooked.
You were hit in the face with a frisbee when you were six otherwise your nose would be just fine.
Don't worry, don't worry. We'll get it all fixed!"
She would say grasping my face
twisting it this way and that as though it were a cabbage she may buy at the store.
But this is not about her.
Not her fault she too was raised to believe
that the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl
was a marketable facade.
There was a girl named Annie
She had a very pretty face
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
And even if I tried to tell her
She never listened to a word I'd say
By 16 I was pickled with medications, ointments, peroxides
Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze
cushioning the new nose the surgeon had carved
Belly gorged on two pints of my own blood
I had swallowed while under anesthesia
And every convulsive twist of my gut like
my body is screaming at me from the inside out
"What did you let them do to you?"
All the while this never ending chorus droning on and on
like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my veins.
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
By the end of high school I knew I shouldn't care how I looked, because the content of my character was much more important, but I also sensed that I was less vulnerable to being seen as a boy, lesbian, or outcast if I were also pretty.
Can you imagine what he's actually feeling about my body? And this isn't about sex, not really, just how he sees my legs or my arms. The words he'll use to describe my breasts or my but. It's too much, it is, I can't even think about it without wanting to throw up. I always felt like my face was one of my better parts and he's standing there talking about me like I'm so old Buick in the back yard that he's been thinking about fixing up, just never gets around to.
Like my mother unwinding the giftwrap to reveal
the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her
Pretty
Pretty
And now I have not seen my own face in ten years
I have not seen my own face in ten years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painting ourselves clowns in
About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 different malls
just to find the perfect cocktail dress
But who haven't got a clue as to where to find fulfillment or how to wear joy
Spending their lives shackled to a shopping bag
beneath the tyranny of those two pretty sylables
I didn't know if I could tell her
I didn't know if I could make her see
Looks don't make the world go 'round
There was a girl named Annie
She had a smile that could light up a room
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
After college, I moved to New York City, the epicenter of glamour, but also a place where people like me escaped to. The city offered a whole new value scale - beauty was measured differently, your whole self was taken into account.
I'm realistic and I know me as a person - I know I don't got that much going for me, not really. I'm not all smart and educated, and not gorgeous, not like some girls - but I like what I've got, and you know what? I'm going to protect that.
This is about my someday daughter
when you approach me already stung, stained with insecurity
Begging me, "Mom, will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?"
I will wipe that question from her mouth like cheap lipstick and answer "No!
The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will ever be
And no child of mine can be contained in six letters
You will be pretty intelligent
Pretty creative
Pretty amazing
but you will never, never be merely pretty."
At the tournament I competed in five events: Impromptu, Extemporaneous, Lincoln-Douglas Debate, Parlimentary Debate, and Program of Oral Interpretation. (If anyone would like any elaboration on what these events are/consist of, just ask and I'll explain). Even though I didn't make it into the finals rounds in any of these events I still had many moments of personal success and achievement in each round. In Impromptu I was ridiculously ecstatic because in my second round I was given the opportunity to quote and analyze two of my favorite artists, Aesop Rock and Atmosphere. I was proud of myself for not panicking and for simply surviving my Extemp rounds, its a terrifying event if you ask me. In LD I was also proud for surviving, and for putting up a fight in each round. Even though I had no clue as to what I was doing, I still did my best. In Parli, I was a hybrid. Which means that my partner was a debater from another school. He happened to be Glen Prell from Northwest College in Powell, Wyoming. Regardless of what our record is on paper, I feel as though Glen and I debated phenomenally! I really do, we frustrated many a team that week with our quick wit and logic, and man was it loads of fun (I love Parli just fyi).
Now my POI, this is a piece that I have become quite attached to over the season. The entire work is put together and cut by myself, with some help and a lot of encouragement from my amazing coach Jessica Hurless. Jessica and I have discovered that I need pieces that hold personal meaning for me in them in order for me to be successful with them, and that is exactly what we achieved with this piece. I truly believe every bit of the message within this piece, and because of my attachment to it and the sadness I feel for never being able to perform it again I want to share it with all of you. Let me know what you think! The piece is composed of excerpts from four different works, enjoy.
When I was just a little girl I asked my mother
What will I be? Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
And the pretty question infects from conception
Passing blood and breath into cells
The word hangs from our mother's hearts
in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry
Will I be wanted, worthy, pretty?
There was a girl named Annie
She had a very pretty face
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
When one types the word pretty into a google search engine, 360 million results appear in less than half a second. This small, seemingly insignificant six letter word has forced an entire culture to question: "Am I pretty?" When the real question needing to be asked is: Why would we want to be?
Merriam Webster defines pretty as: having conventionally acceptable elements of beauty; appearing or sounding pleasant or nice, but lacking in strength, purpose, and intensity.
Face Value, a program that through the poetry Pretty by Katie Makai, Annie by Safetysuit, drama Reasons to be Pretty by Neil Labute, and prose Miss World of Wheels by Jennifer Burnbaum, challenges each of us to wipe away these conventionally acceptable elements of beauty and gain back our strength, purpose, and intensity in life. Face Value.
As a child, I had small hair. It was short and androgynous, courtesy of my parents, who insisted that - with what they called my "elfin" chin and petite physique - I would look best...with a buzz cut.
"Can I help you son?" shop clerks would ask during this phase of my youth.
"I'm a girl!"
Not saying that this is full of profound insight or anything but any woman I know, like, my age or younger, she's gonna be super upset if she hears what I did. That her boyfriend thinks "oh yeah honey, your face is...okay." There's no way to swallow that down and find a way to come back up smiling. You know what I mean?
Why do we feel this way though? Is it maybe TV and magazines, or maybe its our moms telling us "sweetheart you're pretty no matter what"....I'm not really sure.
The first time I remember feeling consistently pretty was age ten, when I finally go to grow out my hair and would create elaborate hairstyles in the bathroom before school while my five year old sister, Jessica, gazed at me from her perch on the toilet, enraptured.
But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad
Teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey long,
and pox marks where the hormones when fingerpainting.
My poor mother, "How could this happen?
You will have porcelain skin as soon as we see a dermatologist.
You sucked your thumb, that is why your teeth are crooked.
You were hit in the face with a frisbee when you were six otherwise your nose would be just fine.
Don't worry, don't worry. We'll get it all fixed!"
She would say grasping my face
twisting it this way and that as though it were a cabbage she may buy at the store.
But this is not about her.
Not her fault she too was raised to believe
that the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl
was a marketable facade.
There was a girl named Annie
She had a very pretty face
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
And even if I tried to tell her
She never listened to a word I'd say
By 16 I was pickled with medications, ointments, peroxides
Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze
cushioning the new nose the surgeon had carved
Belly gorged on two pints of my own blood
I had swallowed while under anesthesia
And every convulsive twist of my gut like
my body is screaming at me from the inside out
"What did you let them do to you?"
All the while this never ending chorus droning on and on
like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my veins.
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
By the end of high school I knew I shouldn't care how I looked, because the content of my character was much more important, but I also sensed that I was less vulnerable to being seen as a boy, lesbian, or outcast if I were also pretty.
Can you imagine what he's actually feeling about my body? And this isn't about sex, not really, just how he sees my legs or my arms. The words he'll use to describe my breasts or my but. It's too much, it is, I can't even think about it without wanting to throw up. I always felt like my face was one of my better parts and he's standing there talking about me like I'm so old Buick in the back yard that he's been thinking about fixing up, just never gets around to.
Like my mother unwinding the giftwrap to reveal
the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her
Pretty
Pretty
And now I have not seen my own face in ten years
I have not seen my own face in ten years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painting ourselves clowns in
About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 different malls
just to find the perfect cocktail dress
But who haven't got a clue as to where to find fulfillment or how to wear joy
Spending their lives shackled to a shopping bag
beneath the tyranny of those two pretty sylables
I didn't know if I could tell her
I didn't know if I could make her see
Looks don't make the world go 'round
There was a girl named Annie
She had a smile that could light up a room
She never looked in the mirror
She never liked what she would see
After college, I moved to New York City, the epicenter of glamour, but also a place where people like me escaped to. The city offered a whole new value scale - beauty was measured differently, your whole self was taken into account.
I'm realistic and I know me as a person - I know I don't got that much going for me, not really. I'm not all smart and educated, and not gorgeous, not like some girls - but I like what I've got, and you know what? I'm going to protect that.
This is about my someday daughter
when you approach me already stung, stained with insecurity
Begging me, "Mom, will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?"
I will wipe that question from her mouth like cheap lipstick and answer "No!
The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will ever be
And no child of mine can be contained in six letters
You will be pretty intelligent
Pretty creative
Pretty amazing
but you will never, never be merely pretty."
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Various depictions of my trip.
Last week I was given the awesome privilege to be able to travel to Greenwich, Connecticut to compete in the Phi Rho Pi National Speech and Debate tournament. By far the longest tournament that I've ever participated in, it was one of the most fun, intense learning experiences I've been able to participate in.
I haven't traveled a whole lot before coming to college. As you can imagine I was horribly excited to be able to venture all the way to the east coast. An early morning flight out of Denver landed us in Laguardia Airport in New York somewhere around midday on friday. Thankfully we were picked up by a shuttle that was taking us to Connecticut. No offense to my coach, but I was rather scared by the idea of him driving us through New York traffic. And for good reason! We hadn't gone more than a few hundred feet and we were already being honked at and everyone was driving very aggressively. For someone who grew up driving on country dirt roads, this was intimidating. We arrived safely at the hotel in Greenwich thanks to our all-knowing driver. After settling in we ventured out for dinner.
My first taste of the East Coast. Let me tell you what, it was the most amazing pizza I have ever had. I'm almost heart broken because there's nowhere to get pizza like this here in the Midwest. It's such a tragedy. The toppings consisted of black olives, bacon, grilled chicken, and provolone cheese on a hand-tossed crust (we really watched them toss the crust!). I can still smell it. Ahhhhhhhh.
The next couple of days were spend catching up on sleep and practicing. Saturday we took the Suburban out for a drive. Wandering through Greenwich and parts of Stamford, finally ending up at the local Good Will store. I know what you're probably thinking "you went all the way to Connecticut to go to the Good Will?!" No, we did not. We did, however, drive past it and all agree that we had to go inside. It was probably one of the most hilarious outings we went on. You really would have had to of been there to truly understand. I snagged myself and awesome jacket, and everyone else found unique clothes for the region get together themed "Jersey Shore." In mocking of the people of course, in no way shape or form were we appreciating their existence.
Sunday we woke up early and took the train into Manhattan. We were accompanied by the Northwest Speech and Debate team from Powell, Wyoming. We arrived at Grand Central Station (which i could not get a good picture of sadly) and thus began our excursion through Manhattan.
When we exited the station, the streets were, believe it or not, quiet. It was maybe 10 o'clock on Sunday morning, and the streets were nowhere near bustling, as I thought they would be. As we were walking down the sidewalk there was a man who was crossing the street. He was dressed in a business suit, and he was whistling (rather well) Amazing Grace. The sound eerily echoed off the cement and glass cavern surrounding us. For me, this was a rather profound entrance into the city. This chilling entrance was followed by arriving in Times Square. First things first, we each sought out and purchased our first street vendor hot dog. Delicious! Hotdogs quickly eaten, we were left to observe and be bombarded by materialistic America. Flashing lights, advertisements and billboards hung from any and all buildings.
I haven't traveled a whole lot before coming to college. As you can imagine I was horribly excited to be able to venture all the way to the east coast. An early morning flight out of Denver landed us in Laguardia Airport in New York somewhere around midday on friday. Thankfully we were picked up by a shuttle that was taking us to Connecticut. No offense to my coach, but I was rather scared by the idea of him driving us through New York traffic. And for good reason! We hadn't gone more than a few hundred feet and we were already being honked at and everyone was driving very aggressively. For someone who grew up driving on country dirt roads, this was intimidating. We arrived safely at the hotel in Greenwich thanks to our all-knowing driver. After settling in we ventured out for dinner.
The next couple of days were spend catching up on sleep and practicing. Saturday we took the Suburban out for a drive. Wandering through Greenwich and parts of Stamford, finally ending up at the local Good Will store. I know what you're probably thinking "you went all the way to Connecticut to go to the Good Will?!" No, we did not. We did, however, drive past it and all agree that we had to go inside. It was probably one of the most hilarious outings we went on. You really would have had to of been there to truly understand. I snagged myself and awesome jacket, and everyone else found unique clothes for the region get together themed "Jersey Shore." In mocking of the people of course, in no way shape or form were we appreciating their existence.
Sunday we woke up early and took the train into Manhattan. We were accompanied by the Northwest Speech and Debate team from Powell, Wyoming. We arrived at Grand Central Station (which i could not get a good picture of sadly) and thus began our excursion through Manhattan.
When we exited the station, the streets were, believe it or not, quiet. It was maybe 10 o'clock on Sunday morning, and the streets were nowhere near bustling, as I thought they would be. As we were walking down the sidewalk there was a man who was crossing the street. He was dressed in a business suit, and he was whistling (rather well) Amazing Grace. The sound eerily echoed off the cement and glass cavern surrounding us. For me, this was a rather profound entrance into the city. This chilling entrance was followed by arriving in Times Square. First things first, we each sought out and purchased our first street vendor hot dog. Delicious! Hotdogs quickly eaten, we were left to observe and be bombarded by materialistic America. Flashing lights, advertisements and billboards hung from any and all buildings.
There were double decker buses everwhere. Kind of funny considering how cloudy and rainy it looked/was during the week
Smile for me Conan.
I want one. This was the elevator parking garage we saw while trekking through the streets.
Some snazzy church spires (which one I can't remember).
See that tiny little statue through the window? That's the statue of liberty.
Micah stands amongst sensory overload!
Times Square billboards.
Tyler hugged the "Free Hugs Guy." He was giving free hugs but gladly took your tips with a smile (he later showed us his wallet; he was making a killing).
A small child is about to be run over by the fierce bull on Wall Street.
The Robot Guy! Those poor little boys were scared of him.
The best part was the Broadway show we went to. Priscilla the Queen of the Desert was entirely too much fun! I laughed the entire time and was wowed by the entire production. I will most definitely have to go back to see some more on Broadway.
Monday was the official kick off of the tournament, which was marked by a banquet. Tuesday through Saturday were days of competition. So I do not have many pictures of these days.
I ordered this beautiful burger at Moe's, a burger joint down the street from the hotel. Unaware of how big a double would be I ordered one and found myself faced with a monster. I tackled every bit. One of the best accidents all week.
Before awards on Saturday the Northwest team and coaches took us with them to see the Atlantic Ocean. Crashing and endless this was the first time I had ever seen any ocean. I snagged myself a few souvenirs from the beach and laughed and Justin and Micah jumped into the water with their pants rolled up.
Last week was one of the most taxing I have yet to have endured, but it was throughly worth it. The entire experience, speaking, debating, traveling, sight-seeing, meeting new people and learning new things made all the lost sleep worth it. This is a trip that I will never forget.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Girls With Slingshots
Alright, so here's the deal-ee-o. I happened across this hilarious comic strip on the ever-awesome Stumble Upon, and I enjoyed it so much that I read it for hours a day until I had read every last strip. Now, I'm going to advise right now that you read them all because as an entire story its great. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, oh and for the male readers (if I have any) it is what I would call a "chick comic" but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy it too! I feel the humor is universal. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Follow the link I've posted below for some laughs.
http://www.girlswithslingshots.com/
http://www.girlswithslingshots.com/
Thursday, April 14, 2011
A Matter of Opinion
As this is the last day that I will be competing at the National Phi Rho Pi tournament here in Greenwich, Connecticut (which I will blog about specifically later) I feel like it's okay to stay up a little late and blog. Especially since I haven't been blogging at all. For this I apologize.
So my teammates and I just had a discussion in regards to the world of debate, of which I will not go into detail because it doesn't really pertain to this blog directly. What it does pertain to is the matter of opinion. One of my teammates established this point towards the end of the discussion that he would like to end it because he doesn't want to offend, because his opinion is never going to change and mine is never going to change. Now when I hear this statement I laugh, and walk away. Not because I "lost" the argument, but simply because once he establishes that he is never going to change I'm simply beating the dead horse. Did he ever ask me if my opinion could be altered? No. He simply assumes it can't. Now in that discussion opinion was not altered whatsoever. Why? The easy way out is to say because I am unwilling to change, but what it really boils down to is that he doesn't present sufficient enough argument to alter my opinion.
Argumentation is about persuasion and reiterating the same points over and over does nothing to persuade. It takes logic, and you telling me why its better. Simply saying what you're doing, whatever it may be, is better and its just that. I am not told why, how, and not even given a comparison. I'm given absolutely no reason or need to change my opinion. So why would it change?
My opinion is about as malleable as titanium, but I assure you it can be changed. My closest friends can attest to these rare occasions. Simply saying that my opinion will never be changed, that's a cheap cop out. It takes a lot of work to make titanium malleable and to bend it into a favorable form, it takes work to change someone's opinion. Not just mine, and if you don't do the "work" the opinion you are trying to change will always, always remain the same.
So my teammates and I just had a discussion in regards to the world of debate, of which I will not go into detail because it doesn't really pertain to this blog directly. What it does pertain to is the matter of opinion. One of my teammates established this point towards the end of the discussion that he would like to end it because he doesn't want to offend, because his opinion is never going to change and mine is never going to change. Now when I hear this statement I laugh, and walk away. Not because I "lost" the argument, but simply because once he establishes that he is never going to change I'm simply beating the dead horse. Did he ever ask me if my opinion could be altered? No. He simply assumes it can't. Now in that discussion opinion was not altered whatsoever. Why? The easy way out is to say because I am unwilling to change, but what it really boils down to is that he doesn't present sufficient enough argument to alter my opinion.
Argumentation is about persuasion and reiterating the same points over and over does nothing to persuade. It takes logic, and you telling me why its better. Simply saying what you're doing, whatever it may be, is better and its just that. I am not told why, how, and not even given a comparison. I'm given absolutely no reason or need to change my opinion. So why would it change?
My opinion is about as malleable as titanium, but I assure you it can be changed. My closest friends can attest to these rare occasions. Simply saying that my opinion will never be changed, that's a cheap cop out. It takes a lot of work to make titanium malleable and to bend it into a favorable form, it takes work to change someone's opinion. Not just mine, and if you don't do the "work" the opinion you are trying to change will always, always remain the same.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Way Too Early
As I sit in DIA waiting for our flight to NY for the National Phi Rho Pi Speech and Debate meet I find myself becoming very irritated by the airports lack of wi-fi that functions well. This add that resides at the top of every page, the one that slows everything down and even keeps lagging the window out, whoever the hell decided that putting that there would be a good idea, I hope you stub your toe today. Jackass.
So just to clarify why I am surly this early morn, I have been up since 3:30 a.m. along with the rest of the team in order to take the hotel shuttle to the friggin' airport. Gah. Isn't it just great that this is only the beginning of a horrendously long week.
I did have some ideas to blog about, but due to the time and lack of brain function happening in my nogin with so little sleep I cannot think of a damn thing worth talking about. It's morning like this that I wish I was snuggled up close to Mr. Matchew. That is the only thing I should be doing at this time of day. Not sitting in the airport.
Do you hear that??? There's a bird in the terminal, poor thing. I hope it finds it way out soon. I can't imagine they have any bird feeders in DIA.
So it's 5:30 a.m. and there is a group of loud, douche-looking, jersey shore aspiring travelers sitting together. Now, just because I said "douche" does not mean they are all men. They're actually 3/5 women. But the term fits nonetheless. I have my noise-canceling headphones in with the volume half way up, and I can still hear them being obnoxious. It's to early for that kind of garbage.
Oh, I guess while I'm at it I can share this with you all. I purchased my first pair of heels ever yesterday. Ugh. Lame. Never having worn such things, I'm a little concerned for myself and the fact that I have to run around a hotel in these new-fangled things for a week. Hopefully I don't fall......too much.
I probably won't be blogging a whole lot this next week, I apologize. I hope to have a couple guest blogs from two of my bestest friends though! How exciting.....I really am excited, you just can't tell because I'm not telling you directly. Thank you all for reading! Almost 250 views!!!!
So just to clarify why I am surly this early morn, I have been up since 3:30 a.m. along with the rest of the team in order to take the hotel shuttle to the friggin' airport. Gah. Isn't it just great that this is only the beginning of a horrendously long week.
I did have some ideas to blog about, but due to the time and lack of brain function happening in my nogin with so little sleep I cannot think of a damn thing worth talking about. It's morning like this that I wish I was snuggled up close to Mr. Matchew. That is the only thing I should be doing at this time of day. Not sitting in the airport.
Do you hear that??? There's a bird in the terminal, poor thing. I hope it finds it way out soon. I can't imagine they have any bird feeders in DIA.
So it's 5:30 a.m. and there is a group of loud, douche-looking, jersey shore aspiring travelers sitting together. Now, just because I said "douche" does not mean they are all men. They're actually 3/5 women. But the term fits nonetheless. I have my noise-canceling headphones in with the volume half way up, and I can still hear them being obnoxious. It's to early for that kind of garbage.
Oh, I guess while I'm at it I can share this with you all. I purchased my first pair of heels ever yesterday. Ugh. Lame. Never having worn such things, I'm a little concerned for myself and the fact that I have to run around a hotel in these new-fangled things for a week. Hopefully I don't fall......too much.
I probably won't be blogging a whole lot this next week, I apologize. I hope to have a couple guest blogs from two of my bestest friends though! How exciting.....I really am excited, you just can't tell because I'm not telling you directly. Thank you all for reading! Almost 250 views!!!!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Discussing Common Courtesy
As I rock out to Louder Than Ever by Cold War Kids I'm reflecting on some conversation had merely minutes ago between myself and one of my classmates, Laura. We often sit in the back of the mac lab during digital design and shoot the shit. Today we stumbled across the topic of common courtesy. Let me tell you all something, after hearing someone who holds some of the same perspectives I do in regards to common courtesy, I feel like much less of a bitch. I'm almost unsure of how I could have even mistaken myself for such a thing. Almost.
As a bit of enlightenment, common courtesy has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. Or at least when people fail at having any sort of common courtesy at all. I have encountered a number of situations where my patients are put to the test by these lacking individuals. Sometimes I maintain composure, other times.....not so much. Regardless, I find it completely mind boggling when I come across people who have no concept of common courtesy and how great it can be. Simple things like asking before you eat the left over chinese that doesn't belong to you, giving your roommate a heads up about the duration of a guests stay, or putting down the toilet seat. These tiny little things can make life so much easier, but there are so many people out there who just don't. This frustrates me. Sometimes its rather infuriating. I guess what it comes down to is how you were raised, and let me tell you what discipline in the form a spanking was easily avioded by implementing common courtesy rather than just being rude or negligent. Thank you mom for that. It hurt, but I learned. Too bad it's not okay to backhand other adults as a form a disipline.
As a bit of enlightenment, common courtesy has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. Or at least when people fail at having any sort of common courtesy at all. I have encountered a number of situations where my patients are put to the test by these lacking individuals. Sometimes I maintain composure, other times.....not so much. Regardless, I find it completely mind boggling when I come across people who have no concept of common courtesy and how great it can be. Simple things like asking before you eat the left over chinese that doesn't belong to you, giving your roommate a heads up about the duration of a guests stay, or putting down the toilet seat. These tiny little things can make life so much easier, but there are so many people out there who just don't. This frustrates me. Sometimes its rather infuriating. I guess what it comes down to is how you were raised, and let me tell you what discipline in the form a spanking was easily avioded by implementing common courtesy rather than just being rude or negligent. Thank you mom for that. It hurt, but I learned. Too bad it's not okay to backhand other adults as a form a disipline.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
An unproductive weekend
As the title eludes, I'm sure you've all figured out that I didn't really get a whole lot accomplished this recent, and almost past weekend. My lack of accomplishment has nothing to do with any sort of absence of things that need done. Oh no, I just found myself.....relaxing this weeked. And now I've relaxed it all away. No more weekend left to get it done. Wouldn't be the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Not for me at least.
I must say, being home this weekend, makes me blog less. Is it that I have better things to do at home? More important obligations? Meh, I suppose that's arguable either way. Boyfriends and video games are not good for my homework, I have definitely concluded that. It has been a great weekend, Mr. Matthew is to thank for that.
Can you smell that? Oh. My. God. I wish you could, my mom just pulled homemade rolls out of the oven. Smells better than cake, or pie even. You really are missing out. I hope you're jealous. Because you really should be.
So I need to get a few things out of my brain and typed into this blog before I forget about them again.
First: I've noticed that sometimes, not all the time, I forget to close the barn door. You know....zip up my fly. Of course I never realize it until a few hours down the road. And all I can think is "welp, I hope nobody noticed that." If they had noticed, I hope they would have had the courtesy to politely, and most importantly, quietly let me know. It would be awful if something of that nature was announce out loud in class, or even in a packed hallway. So if you see me wandering around looking lost with my zipper down, just quietly let me know. Don't make it noticable. That would be embarrassing.
Second: Drama sucks. And when I say drama, I don't mean the genre of film or play, I mean drama between people. You know that shit you gripe and groan so much about in high school? Yeah, that. It's so funny, because I know that I was hoping to escape it upon graduation and heading for college. Nope. No such luck. In fact I'm not even directly involved in any sort of drama currently, but other people who have giant wooden spoons are stirring the pot elsewhere. This figurative stirring of the pot is going on in an entirely different state and it's still affecting me. As you may have gathered, this bothers me. Makes me want to hurt people, or at least publicly humiliate them. So watch out. For those of you toting wooden spoons, take heed, I may be coming for you.
Third: I may have mentioned beforehand that I wanted to post this awesome banner that I made in my Digital Design class. Welp. Here it is, at the bottom of the post. Let me tell you something. It makes me chuckle every time. I do find it rather entertaining, and I hope that you do too.
Hopefully you accomplished more than I did this weekend. If you didn't, I hope you enjoyed your time relaxing just as much as I did.
I must say, being home this weekend, makes me blog less. Is it that I have better things to do at home? More important obligations? Meh, I suppose that's arguable either way. Boyfriends and video games are not good for my homework, I have definitely concluded that. It has been a great weekend, Mr. Matthew is to thank for that.
Can you smell that? Oh. My. God. I wish you could, my mom just pulled homemade rolls out of the oven. Smells better than cake, or pie even. You really are missing out. I hope you're jealous. Because you really should be.
So I need to get a few things out of my brain and typed into this blog before I forget about them again.
First: I've noticed that sometimes, not all the time, I forget to close the barn door. You know....zip up my fly. Of course I never realize it until a few hours down the road. And all I can think is "welp, I hope nobody noticed that." If they had noticed, I hope they would have had the courtesy to politely, and most importantly, quietly let me know. It would be awful if something of that nature was announce out loud in class, or even in a packed hallway. So if you see me wandering around looking lost with my zipper down, just quietly let me know. Don't make it noticable. That would be embarrassing.
Second: Drama sucks. And when I say drama, I don't mean the genre of film or play, I mean drama between people. You know that shit you gripe and groan so much about in high school? Yeah, that. It's so funny, because I know that I was hoping to escape it upon graduation and heading for college. Nope. No such luck. In fact I'm not even directly involved in any sort of drama currently, but other people who have giant wooden spoons are stirring the pot elsewhere. This figurative stirring of the pot is going on in an entirely different state and it's still affecting me. As you may have gathered, this bothers me. Makes me want to hurt people, or at least publicly humiliate them. So watch out. For those of you toting wooden spoons, take heed, I may be coming for you.
Third: I may have mentioned beforehand that I wanted to post this awesome banner that I made in my Digital Design class. Welp. Here it is, at the bottom of the post. Let me tell you something. It makes me chuckle every time. I do find it rather entertaining, and I hope that you do too.
Hopefully you accomplished more than I did this weekend. If you didn't, I hope you enjoyed your time relaxing just as much as I did.
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