Being raised Mormon and around Mormons really skews someone's perspective of what success is. That may be kind of harsh, but I feel it's the truth, and if you know me at all, you'd know I have this thing where I like the truth.
You may be thinking "Well why do you say that, Marissa?" (but you're probably not because you know that I'm going to tell you anyway).
Mormons and their view of love and marriage is nuts. I'm just now coming to see this, even though I sometimes still find myself with the same views.
I've met so many people who need to find love. Not want, but need. Sometimes we can't distinguish the difference.
It's put into our heads that: (in no particular order)
We need to date and date and date frantically to find The One.
When dating someone exclusively (there's actually no other way to date someone in Mormonese), you must rush the relationship to the point of either uncomfortability or instant love.
When/if you do fall in love, you need to speed along and get engaged as soon as possible.
When/if you become engaged, the engagement must be less than six months.
If you are engaged while you are still in college, you should absolutely get married in college because waiting until you're ready to actually start a life is completely irresponsible.
The less time you spend getting to know the person you are dating/engaged to, the better.
You should and must date as many people as possible, even if you have no interest in marrying them.
Meeting and starting to date someone on the same day is totally acceptable.
Getting engaged to someone you aren't even dating is even more acceptable.
On the first date, you should move way too fast and be way too romantic.
It is not possible to be friends with people of the opposite sex unless you a) are in a relationship already, b) have already tried dating them, c) have been denied by them, d) are currently interested in said person, or e) are interested in someone else (probably a mutual friend).
You cannot date a friend's ex, no matter how briefly they were together.
Always introduce a romantic interest to your parents as soon as you can, that way, you don't have to do it later.
If you're not married or in love or engaged AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, you've failed.
This isn't all I've come up with but I can't remember the rest.
Just so you know, I do still think the same way about some of those things. I'm constantly suggesting to others how to act in the name of love or "love." My best friend is constantly pointing out that not everyone was raised Mormon.
And I have friends who have done one or more of the above. To those friends who read this by chance: I don't want you to be offended, even though you probably are anyways
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
He gets drunk and then tries to eat the lasers at the dance club.
I wanted to make this post very honest and angry and blunt. But I can't do that. I wanted to call out the people who have been the most artificial and self-righteous. But I won't. I wanted to let words that have been building up for weeks rush out the only way they could. But they can't. I wanted people to read this and have some kind of revelation (even a minuscule one) and change the way they treat me and the way they treat themselves. But they wouldn't.
I can't because my ire is based on the ignorance of others. Even if they believe that they know better, they don't know it all. Even if they think they do. And I don't want to waste too much time on the people who wouldn't waste any on me.
I won't because that wouldn't be fair to them. Just because only a few people read this, it doesn't mean that no one does. And to "publically" accost someone just isn't as classy as I want to be.
They can't because what I would want to say just won't orchestrate itself in any way that would make sense. If you've ever been this irritated, you would know how I feel.
They wouldn't because people don't like to be told that they're wrong. I know. I'm a person too, in case you've forgotten.
This post wasn't meant to benefit anyone. And if I had to say it was, I'd say it was for me. Because getting my feelings out there is what I have to do sometimes. Even if they're not all that specific.
I can't because my ire is based on the ignorance of others. Even if they believe that they know better, they don't know it all. Even if they think they do. And I don't want to waste too much time on the people who wouldn't waste any on me.
I won't because that wouldn't be fair to them. Just because only a few people read this, it doesn't mean that no one does. And to "publically" accost someone just isn't as classy as I want to be.
They can't because what I would want to say just won't orchestrate itself in any way that would make sense. If you've ever been this irritated, you would know how I feel.
They wouldn't because people don't like to be told that they're wrong. I know. I'm a person too, in case you've forgotten.
This post wasn't meant to benefit anyone. And if I had to say it was, I'd say it was for me. Because getting my feelings out there is what I have to do sometimes. Even if they're not all that specific.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
And I'm on my way to believing
"Single" is such an ugly word. I hate that that's a relationship status, that's how people categorize their dating situation, or what have you. Just because I'm "single," that doesn't mean I'm alone. Do you have any idea how many people in the world who are my age are single? Yeh, I don't really either, but I imagine it's a lot.
And so what if I don't have my relationship status listed on my Facebook page? If you're really my friend, you would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably ask or find out from someone who does know. I would prefer "devotionally independent." Or simply "NOT in a relationship."
And don't get me started on "relationship status." Too late. "Status" is defined as "the state or condition of affairs" (ironic, right?). So, in my humble opinion, a suitable status would be "happy" or "miserable" or "apathetic." "Single" is the circumstance or definition of your relationship. Also, single doesn't even count as a relationship, unless you're referring to a relationship with yourself, which has it's own spectrum of mental health. Facebook should really be saying "This is where I am in the department of love:" and then have a fill-in-the-blank OR a drop-down panel that consists of more than just "single," "in a relationship," "engaged," "married," "it's complicated" "in an open relationship," "widowed," "separated," "divorced," and "in a civil partnership." I think they also need to include "nunya" and "sleeping around," plus a couple others.
And since you're reading this, it probably means you care about my life. So, in case you're unaware of my "relationship status" (I'm still trying to come up with something that sounds remotely official), let me clarify for you: I'm single and happy. Not happy because I'm single. Not single because it makes me happy. Just single AND happy in two different contexts. They don't go hand in hand (all the time). I could still be happy in a relationship. I could still be single and miserable. But for now I am single and happy.
Just so you know.
And so what if I don't have my relationship status listed on my Facebook page? If you're really my friend, you would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably ask or find out from someone who does know. I would prefer "devotionally independent." Or simply "NOT in a relationship."
And don't get me started on "relationship status." Too late. "Status" is defined as "the state or condition of affairs" (ironic, right?). So, in my humble opinion, a suitable status would be "happy" or "miserable" or "apathetic." "Single" is the circumstance or definition of your relationship. Also, single doesn't even count as a relationship, unless you're referring to a relationship with yourself, which has it's own spectrum of mental health. Facebook should really be saying "This is where I am in the department of love:" and then have a fill-in-the-blank OR a drop-down panel that consists of more than just "single," "in a relationship," "engaged," "married," "it's complicated" "in an open relationship," "widowed," "separated," "divorced," and "in a civil partnership." I think they also need to include "nunya" and "sleeping around," plus a couple others.
And since you're reading this, it probably means you care about my life. So, in case you're unaware of my "relationship status" (I'm still trying to come up with something that sounds remotely official), let me clarify for you: I'm single and happy. Not happy because I'm single. Not single because it makes me happy. Just single AND happy in two different contexts. They don't go hand in hand (all the time). I could still be happy in a relationship. I could still be single and miserable. But for now I am single and happy.
Just so you know.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Now's your moment, floating in a blue lagoon
I've kissed 8 guys. To me, that seems like a lot, but according to some gum commercial, the average person has 28 first kisses. Personally, I want to know who they've been polling, and I think they should have a follow up question that asks how many times they've been in love or thought they were in love.
I'd like to address the guys from my past kisses. Not to critique them on how well or poorly they smooch, but to just tell them what I think. Because, I may be old fashioned, but a kiss does mean something, especially if it occurred while both parties were sober (which, to the best of my knowledge, all of mine fall into that category). And just an FYI, I'm not going to use their names, but I will address them chronologically.
The First- First, let me say that I can't believe, of the two of us, you got married first. That came as a pretty big shock, and to not only me. But moreover, you will always have a place somewhere near my heart. Maybe the spleen. I know I hate you a lot. I probably spend way too much time not liking you, and not enough time remembering the good times we had in the nine months (total) that we were together in high school. Because looking back, the bad doesn't really outweigh the good, nor vice versa. And there's not really a balance of the two. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you exist.
The Sweetheart- Out of all of them, I was hoping you were The One the most. Sorry that didn't work out. I want to be bitter towards you, upset that you found love elsewhere, rueful that I ever talked to you. But that's just not fair to you. I'm the one that broke it off after you'd been nothing but loyal for two years (like you really had a choice). I'm the one who couldn't make up my mind and toyed with your heart. Sorry about all that. I am happy for you, I really am. It hurts that I let you go, but in all honesty, I would have been a fool not to. You came back as a person I can't recognize, and I know I've changed more than I can realize. You're not my fairytale ending and I'm coming to see that. You'll always be my first love, and as I'm coming to learn, love can change from cutesy and romantic to appreciative and respectable. Just don't rub your happiness in my face. I don't want to hear about how the two of you first said "I love you" and all that nonsense. Oh, and don't invite me to your impending wedding (because, let's face it: you're an RM; you're getting married ASAP). Some of us aren't so successful with the affairs of the heart.
The NCMO- You scared the hell out of me (or based on the aftermath concerning my thoughts on religion, perhaps you scared it into me). I had just started to trust humans again and then you come along and force me to makeout with you. I don't know how they do things at BYU, but that's not how things happen around here. You are so lucky that my friend didn't bash your absurd noggin with her heavy-duty flashlight, because really, I was ready to let her. And maybe I should be saying these things on a blog, but do you really think I care?
The Underdog- I know that term is a little more negative than I want it to be, but I couldn't think of a better word to describe our relationship. I never really knew if you would come out on top or not. I mean, you had people rooting for you, but you just didn't have the history. That's just how it goes sometimes. You were always a great friend to me, always there when I needed someone to shamelessly flirt with, or just talk about random stuff like "Do you think a dolphin is slippery if it's not wet?" Too bad things couldn't have worked out with us. We would have been one heck of a pair. I wish you well with all your future conquests and I hope your wife knows how lucky she is to have you. It's a shame that when she finally decided she wanted to be with you, she wouldn't let us talk. I always have something I want to tell you (like how much of a clown your brother is or how there's a funny video of a panda that you need to see) but I have to suppress it.
The One Night Stand- So, that's not really what you were, but it really only was one night. Maybe it was the fact that I had a crush on you freshmen year and then you moved away, never to be seen again. Or that I was incredibly lonely. Or that I was feeling like nothing really mattered. Or the mix of all three. Don't get me wrong. I was glad I got to catch up with you after four years or so. I actually had a blast walking around the golf course in the middle of the night. But when we kissed... I can honestly say you're the closest one to meaning absolutely nothing. You should be proud.
The Jailbait- That was a joke between us. Not that we joke anymore. Or talk. Or even acknowledge the other's existence. That's a lie. I mention you in passing from time to time. And, surprisingly, it's usually good stuff. We used to think it was funny, how I was "robbing the cradle" even though you were technically "legal." Those were good times. I had fun with you, I promise. I wish you didn't need to hate me. You were great to talk to, sometimes. Mostly the times when you weren't being cocky. And I know you don't want to believe it, but I never cheated on you. But if you consider me talking to guys cheating, then I did. All the time. Multiple times a day. I apologize for having guy friends (just kidding, I'm not sorry). Maybe one day we can have a reconcilliation. I doubt it, but I'm crossing my fingers.
The Rebound- I knew that's what you were and I'm pretty certain you knew it too. It started from me randomly saying "Wanna make out?" while we were both bored. I'm happy you didn't take me up on that. Otherwise, you might not have been there for me during a pretty bad fight with an ex and I thank you for that. I still think it's funny that your way of consoling me was to offer a kiss. It's unfortunate we didn't try to start something under different circumstances. I still have a kindergarten crush on you.
The Inmate- You kind of came out of nowhere. A blast from the past that I'd never really considered. I didn't really plan on falling for you as hard as I did. I wish I could know where we might have ended up if I stuck it out while you were in the big house. I'm sorry I strung you along during the lengthy time it took me to make a decision about what I was going to do about you. In the end, I figured it's not fair to either of us if you're living the rest of your life making up for the lies and I'm unable to trust you. And reading that last sentence again makes me feel like a jerk, but I just need to be honest. You know how I am.
So there's all eight. Before I started typing the statements, I really didn't know what I was going to say. But they all seem like the best thing I could possibly say, likely because of their candidness. I'm sorry if some of it comes out a little too frank. But I've never been one to beat around the bush.
Unless Michael Jackson is playing and there's a shrub in my way.
Snaps to anyone who thought that was humorous.
I'd like to address the guys from my past kisses. Not to critique them on how well or poorly they smooch, but to just tell them what I think. Because, I may be old fashioned, but a kiss does mean something, especially if it occurred while both parties were sober (which, to the best of my knowledge, all of mine fall into that category). And just an FYI, I'm not going to use their names, but I will address them chronologically.
The First- First, let me say that I can't believe, of the two of us, you got married first. That came as a pretty big shock, and to not only me. But moreover, you will always have a place somewhere near my heart. Maybe the spleen. I know I hate you a lot. I probably spend way too much time not liking you, and not enough time remembering the good times we had in the nine months (total) that we were together in high school. Because looking back, the bad doesn't really outweigh the good, nor vice versa. And there's not really a balance of the two. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you exist.
The Sweetheart- Out of all of them, I was hoping you were The One the most. Sorry that didn't work out. I want to be bitter towards you, upset that you found love elsewhere, rueful that I ever talked to you. But that's just not fair to you. I'm the one that broke it off after you'd been nothing but loyal for two years (like you really had a choice). I'm the one who couldn't make up my mind and toyed with your heart. Sorry about all that. I am happy for you, I really am. It hurts that I let you go, but in all honesty, I would have been a fool not to. You came back as a person I can't recognize, and I know I've changed more than I can realize. You're not my fairytale ending and I'm coming to see that. You'll always be my first love, and as I'm coming to learn, love can change from cutesy and romantic to appreciative and respectable. Just don't rub your happiness in my face. I don't want to hear about how the two of you first said "I love you" and all that nonsense. Oh, and don't invite me to your impending wedding (because, let's face it: you're an RM; you're getting married ASAP). Some of us aren't so successful with the affairs of the heart.
The NCMO- You scared the hell out of me (or based on the aftermath concerning my thoughts on religion, perhaps you scared it into me). I had just started to trust humans again and then you come along and force me to makeout with you. I don't know how they do things at BYU, but that's not how things happen around here. You are so lucky that my friend didn't bash your absurd noggin with her heavy-duty flashlight, because really, I was ready to let her. And maybe I should be saying these things on a blog, but do you really think I care?
The Underdog- I know that term is a little more negative than I want it to be, but I couldn't think of a better word to describe our relationship. I never really knew if you would come out on top or not. I mean, you had people rooting for you, but you just didn't have the history. That's just how it goes sometimes. You were always a great friend to me, always there when I needed someone to shamelessly flirt with, or just talk about random stuff like "Do you think a dolphin is slippery if it's not wet?" Too bad things couldn't have worked out with us. We would have been one heck of a pair. I wish you well with all your future conquests and I hope your wife knows how lucky she is to have you. It's a shame that when she finally decided she wanted to be with you, she wouldn't let us talk. I always have something I want to tell you (like how much of a clown your brother is or how there's a funny video of a panda that you need to see) but I have to suppress it.
The One Night Stand- So, that's not really what you were, but it really only was one night. Maybe it was the fact that I had a crush on you freshmen year and then you moved away, never to be seen again. Or that I was incredibly lonely. Or that I was feeling like nothing really mattered. Or the mix of all three. Don't get me wrong. I was glad I got to catch up with you after four years or so. I actually had a blast walking around the golf course in the middle of the night. But when we kissed... I can honestly say you're the closest one to meaning absolutely nothing. You should be proud.
The Jailbait- That was a joke between us. Not that we joke anymore. Or talk. Or even acknowledge the other's existence. That's a lie. I mention you in passing from time to time. And, surprisingly, it's usually good stuff. We used to think it was funny, how I was "robbing the cradle" even though you were technically "legal." Those were good times. I had fun with you, I promise. I wish you didn't need to hate me. You were great to talk to, sometimes. Mostly the times when you weren't being cocky. And I know you don't want to believe it, but I never cheated on you. But if you consider me talking to guys cheating, then I did. All the time. Multiple times a day. I apologize for having guy friends (just kidding, I'm not sorry). Maybe one day we can have a reconcilliation. I doubt it, but I'm crossing my fingers.
The Rebound- I knew that's what you were and I'm pretty certain you knew it too. It started from me randomly saying "Wanna make out?" while we were both bored. I'm happy you didn't take me up on that. Otherwise, you might not have been there for me during a pretty bad fight with an ex and I thank you for that. I still think it's funny that your way of consoling me was to offer a kiss. It's unfortunate we didn't try to start something under different circumstances. I still have a kindergarten crush on you.
The Inmate- You kind of came out of nowhere. A blast from the past that I'd never really considered. I didn't really plan on falling for you as hard as I did. I wish I could know where we might have ended up if I stuck it out while you were in the big house. I'm sorry I strung you along during the lengthy time it took me to make a decision about what I was going to do about you. In the end, I figured it's not fair to either of us if you're living the rest of your life making up for the lies and I'm unable to trust you. And reading that last sentence again makes me feel like a jerk, but I just need to be honest. You know how I am.
So there's all eight. Before I started typing the statements, I really didn't know what I was going to say. But they all seem like the best thing I could possibly say, likely because of their candidness. I'm sorry if some of it comes out a little too frank. But I've never been one to beat around the bush.
Unless Michael Jackson is playing and there's a shrub in my way.
Snaps to anyone who thought that was humorous.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sweeter as Fiction
My boyfriend is in jail.
I'm honestly not sure if I ever mentioned that on here.
This is not what I had planned. And if you really knew me, you would know that everything, including my spontaneity is planned.
Caleb has been in prison since our official one month anniversary. Great present, right? And since you probably don't know when that was, it was Sept 29th.
I know I'm not at fault, but I blame myself. It was the one day of that entire month that I was not with him and had not had the chance to call him and check in. Maybe if I would have talked to him, he wouldn't have been so irresponsible.
I'm going to tell you what I know about what happened, because I would be curious if I was an unbiased party reading this.
I was on my way to institute and got a quarter of the way there when I got this strange feeling that I shouldn't go. So I turned around and started towards his house. I called his mom and she said he wasn't in, but she'd tell him to call me as soon as he got home. So I figured he was working on his car at a garage that's just down the road. I got there but there was no one around his car, so I texted his sister, Casey, asking if she knew where he was. She never responded, so I ended up going to my Bestie's apartment and hanging out and being mopey because my boyfriend was AWOL. Well, about three hours later, Casey texted back and said that he was arrested and that she wanted to tell me in person but figured that would be a day or two and it was better for me know asap so I didn't think he was abandoning me.
I'm still not exactly sure what he did. Part of me wants to ask, but most of me doesn't even want to know. From what I pieced together from hearing his sister and other people, he was working on his car that day and normally, the owner of the garage would let him borrow some tools and what not and Caleb would pay him for any parts that Fred had laying around. They had an agreement of sorts. Well, apparently some stuff started to go missing and they figured it was Caleb. So, when he showed up, they called the cops. When the cops showed up, they found a few of the missing things in his trunk or something.
And I know this is me being kind of hopeful that maybe it wasn't so horrible, but I think he's taking the blame for someone else. My dad stopped by that garage one night (that's where we get our cars serviced and junk) to pick up his truck and he saw one of the mechanics walking among some of the cars, looking kind of suspect. And dad talked to Fred about the whole Caleb thing, asking if he should tell me to run. Fred said that he dropped the charges because this had been going on for a while, before Caleb even started coming to the shop. So, I know that means Caleb still had to have something to do with it, obviously, since his trunk had some evidence. But it does make me feel better that he's not the only one to blame.
And in case you're wondering Well, if the charges were dropped, why is he still in prison? Well, darlings, let me get to that. The only reason he's still in is because he broke probation. You see, the judicial system is kind of like an angry girlfriend. Everything is fine and dandy until you piss her off and then she brings back all the stupid stuff you've done in your life and punishes you for it.
Which is kind of what I did. I didn't go see him for the first two and half months he was there. I didn't even consider him to be my boyfriend. I didn't write him. I barely wanted to talk about him. And then I felt generous and went to the prison and got to see him through the bullet-proof glass and talk to him through a crappy phone. And three weeks ago, I got to actually hug him and hold his hand and kiss his inmate face.
I was going to end this differently, but I can't figure out what I want to say and what feels right. But then again, nothing really feels right anymore.
I'm honestly not sure if I ever mentioned that on here.
This is not what I had planned. And if you really knew me, you would know that everything, including my spontaneity is planned.
Caleb has been in prison since our official one month anniversary. Great present, right? And since you probably don't know when that was, it was Sept 29th.
I know I'm not at fault, but I blame myself. It was the one day of that entire month that I was not with him and had not had the chance to call him and check in. Maybe if I would have talked to him, he wouldn't have been so irresponsible.
I'm going to tell you what I know about what happened, because I would be curious if I was an unbiased party reading this.
I was on my way to institute and got a quarter of the way there when I got this strange feeling that I shouldn't go. So I turned around and started towards his house. I called his mom and she said he wasn't in, but she'd tell him to call me as soon as he got home. So I figured he was working on his car at a garage that's just down the road. I got there but there was no one around his car, so I texted his sister, Casey, asking if she knew where he was. She never responded, so I ended up going to my Bestie's apartment and hanging out and being mopey because my boyfriend was AWOL. Well, about three hours later, Casey texted back and said that he was arrested and that she wanted to tell me in person but figured that would be a day or two and it was better for me know asap so I didn't think he was abandoning me.
I'm still not exactly sure what he did. Part of me wants to ask, but most of me doesn't even want to know. From what I pieced together from hearing his sister and other people, he was working on his car that day and normally, the owner of the garage would let him borrow some tools and what not and Caleb would pay him for any parts that Fred had laying around. They had an agreement of sorts. Well, apparently some stuff started to go missing and they figured it was Caleb. So, when he showed up, they called the cops. When the cops showed up, they found a few of the missing things in his trunk or something.
And I know this is me being kind of hopeful that maybe it wasn't so horrible, but I think he's taking the blame for someone else. My dad stopped by that garage one night (that's where we get our cars serviced and junk) to pick up his truck and he saw one of the mechanics walking among some of the cars, looking kind of suspect. And dad talked to Fred about the whole Caleb thing, asking if he should tell me to run. Fred said that he dropped the charges because this had been going on for a while, before Caleb even started coming to the shop. So, I know that means Caleb still had to have something to do with it, obviously, since his trunk had some evidence. But it does make me feel better that he's not the only one to blame.
And in case you're wondering Well, if the charges were dropped, why is he still in prison? Well, darlings, let me get to that. The only reason he's still in is because he broke probation. You see, the judicial system is kind of like an angry girlfriend. Everything is fine and dandy until you piss her off and then she brings back all the stupid stuff you've done in your life and punishes you for it.
Which is kind of what I did. I didn't go see him for the first two and half months he was there. I didn't even consider him to be my boyfriend. I didn't write him. I barely wanted to talk about him. And then I felt generous and went to the prison and got to see him through the bullet-proof glass and talk to him through a crappy phone. And three weeks ago, I got to actually hug him and hold his hand and kiss his inmate face.
I was going to end this differently, but I can't figure out what I want to say and what feels right. But then again, nothing really feels right anymore.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Passion for Publication
I have serious delusions of grandeur. For some reason I always imagine myself one day becoming almost famous, right on the edge of fame. Not for anything specific. For music, or poetry, or a radio talk show I'm meant for, or for a restaurant that I hope to have one day, or a novel I haven't even written yet. It's not so much that I want to be famous, it's more that I want people to recognize me.
And I know that I actually have to be motivated and do something if I want to be noted. I haven't overlooked that fact. But it's good to dream, right?
Let's talk about how I've got an unhealthy addiction to Ben & Jerry's Milk and Cookies ice cream. Well, really, there's nothing to discuss about that. I just thought you should know.
Is it bad that I want to go back to my senior year in high school when I was adorable and not-quite-emo but was in love with all the straight-haired boys in the punk bands? Is it bad that I feel just like a teenybopper when I hear and see some of these bands now? If you feel the same way, I've got some bands you need to look up. Better yet, I'll update my playlist on this thing so you can share in my love.
I have a zillion books that I need to read and I keep putting them off. I don't know why I got them. I don't really have the time, even though that's a lie. I've already read the one before, but I didn't really get to enjoy it. It was a library book and I felt rushed, but enjoyed it thoroughly. Water for Elephants. Look it up. I know it's going to be a movie. And to make myself feel better about myself, I have to tell you: I read it months before it was announced to be a movie. But you need to read it. It's about carnivaly, circusy, sideshowy, menagerie-y goodness.
I really had nothing to say today.
I love you kids, even though only I know that one person (maybe) reads this.
And I know that I actually have to be motivated and do something if I want to be noted. I haven't overlooked that fact. But it's good to dream, right?
Let's talk about how I've got an unhealthy addiction to Ben & Jerry's Milk and Cookies ice cream. Well, really, there's nothing to discuss about that. I just thought you should know.
Is it bad that I want to go back to my senior year in high school when I was adorable and not-quite-emo but was in love with all the straight-haired boys in the punk bands? Is it bad that I feel just like a teenybopper when I hear and see some of these bands now? If you feel the same way, I've got some bands you need to look up. Better yet, I'll update my playlist on this thing so you can share in my love.
I have a zillion books that I need to read and I keep putting them off. I don't know why I got them. I don't really have the time, even though that's a lie. I've already read the one before, but I didn't really get to enjoy it. It was a library book and I felt rushed, but enjoyed it thoroughly. Water for Elephants. Look it up. I know it's going to be a movie. And to make myself feel better about myself, I have to tell you: I read it months before it was announced to be a movie. But you need to read it. It's about carnivaly, circusy, sideshowy, menagerie-y goodness.
I really had nothing to say today.
I love you kids, even though only I know that one person (maybe) reads this.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Stuck in 1863
If I'm visiting your state and you know it, you can ask me what state I'm from, but not the town. Because will give you this reply:
"Well, I live in Reading Township, but my address says East Berlin. But if you've never lived in Adams County or a surrounding county, you've probably never heard of it. So, I'm just gonna say Gettysburg, since everyone's heard of Gettysburg. But that's still kind of small and no one ever knows where that is. So let's go with Harrisburg. That's the capital and I'm only an hourish away from it. But you probably still aren't very familiar with the geography of Pennsylvania. So I'm just gonna tell you Philly. Because we're about 45 minutes closer to there than Pittsburgh. And I know it's two hours away from where I really live, but you're probably more likely to have heard of AND know where Philly is. And if you don't, I'm from New York City."
That's something that just really annoys me. The only way it's acceptable to ask the town or general area of where someone else lives is if you say "Oh! I used to live in _name of town_! Is that close to where you're from?" or "My mother (or someone else you know very well) lives there. Where about?"
And the people that say "Oh really? Where?" They really bother me. I know they don't mean it in the same context, but it just sounds like they're testing me, that I'm not really from PA.
And I know I do it sometimes. Like Florida. That's the only place I'm ever interested in knowing where someone lives. 'Cause chances are, I've been there numerous times. And I live there occasionally. So, see? I'm acceptable.
"Well, I live in Reading Township, but my address says East Berlin. But if you've never lived in Adams County or a surrounding county, you've probably never heard of it. So, I'm just gonna say Gettysburg, since everyone's heard of Gettysburg. But that's still kind of small and no one ever knows where that is. So let's go with Harrisburg. That's the capital and I'm only an hourish away from it. But you probably still aren't very familiar with the geography of Pennsylvania. So I'm just gonna tell you Philly. Because we're about 45 minutes closer to there than Pittsburgh. And I know it's two hours away from where I really live, but you're probably more likely to have heard of AND know where Philly is. And if you don't, I'm from New York City."
That's something that just really annoys me. The only way it's acceptable to ask the town or general area of where someone else lives is if you say "Oh! I used to live in _name of town_! Is that close to where you're from?" or "My mother (or someone else you know very well) lives there. Where about?"
And the people that say "Oh really? Where?" They really bother me. I know they don't mean it in the same context, but it just sounds like they're testing me, that I'm not really from PA.
And I know I do it sometimes. Like Florida. That's the only place I'm ever interested in knowing where someone lives. 'Cause chances are, I've been there numerous times. And I live there occasionally. So, see? I'm acceptable.
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