Tis' the season to trash talk your family.

I love Christmas. I will always love Christmas (short of an axe murder on the holiday). I know the suicide rate peaks at this time of year, and my family is as if not more crazy as most. The sights and the smells and the family make it impossible for me not to love this holiday. I'm not that big a fan of getting presents. I mean I like giving them a whole lot more. I put a lot of thought into presents usually. I want things to be perfect, so getting presents is always a little disappointing, because no one is as into giving as I am. I don't ask people what they want. I use prior conversations, their interests, and inside jokes as my inspiration, and I seem to be the only one. I'm not complaining just noting.

My family all have dinner Christmas Eve and brunch on Christmas day. I love this tradition. I love getting my whole family together, period. There are only seven of us (this is my immediate family, grandmother, and aunt & uncle). This year every time someone said something just a little to ridiculous they had to hold the tissue paper from the presents, because as a kid I was insane and invented games based around tissue paper. At least I was inventive, right? Hey, you didn't have to play them. My mother and brother would hide from me.


My best friend, her mother, and I went to see Sherlock Holmes which was phenomenal. I strongly recommend this movie. It's cool, it's intriguing, and come on Jude Law is cute. They clearly set-up for a sequel as well, so that's something to look forward to.


Oh, and my birthday is fast approaching, and you know I can't pass up a chance to be the center of attention. I'll be twenty. Isn't that just exciting? Merry xmas, even if it is almost over.

Have I mention that I love Christmas?

It's xmas time in the city, so I'm going to talk about my dog.

My face itches. There is a point to that statement. I need some better face moisturizers, because the one I have doesn't do a sufficient enough job, yet it makes me break out. It is the best of no worlds on my face right now, and it doesn't make me happy.

While I'm home for the Christmas break (probably the first time I spelled that out in years), I let my dog sleep in my bed. I love the dog. I do. He just has a tendency to wake me up at a decent hour and the college kid in me does not like that at all. It is really difficult to sleep when a ten pound dog starts walking around your head and sticking his nose in your face. I've been trying to teach him the concept of personal space, but alas he is a dog. Someone might want to tell my mom that, because she treats the dog like her third (favorite) child. You don't heat up dog food or hand feed the dog, especially if after spending four years with you he will be coming to my house. He will be considered lucky if he gets wet dog food at my house.

I tend to like to talk about my dog. I apologize. It sort of happens that way. I know animals aren't humans. They cannot compare to children, but he is the closest thing I have to a child, so sometimes I think of him along the same lines.  

I love xmas by the way. I love it more than most people. In fact, xmas would need a restraining order against me if it were a person, but  I like my dog more.

I have recently re-read all the files of writing on my computer. There is a ton more scribbled in notebooks hidden from the world's eyes, that I don't even want to think about. I found a story that I wrote three or four years ago that I always loved for the most part, which is rare for me. I hate the ending, but I never know how to end things. I just write until I get bored and then stop or if I'm feeling the story has run its course I kill someone off. I have several unfinished novels that have the potential to be good, but this story I read it and I want other people to love it too. I also want someone to help me fix it, but I can never find anyone that ever seems interested enough to pick through it. I also have a chronic fear of people judging me more harshly than I have already judged myself.

Anywho, this story has taken over my free thinking space. I don't have a lot at the moment seeing as how I'm in exam week. I need to find an editor. I had a friend once that I would have actually trusted with this crazy task, because her life's goal was to become an editor, but there has been bad blood, and now I only have friends that don't even like to read. I mean I can coerce some people into reading my stuff, but they usually just give out those superficial comments about plot points, and I need someone to give me criticism I can work with.

My dad reads all my term papers and school stuff to fix my grammar, but I need a substance person.

I need to make more friends for practical purposes I suppose. Oh and I need a human spell check to slap me around a little, because I cannot spell to save my life. Hmmm.

I'm self obsessed. I know it. I admit it. I wish I could fix it. I look at the ends of my hair all the time, because I have when my hair gets all ratty at the ends. This action gives me a headache and doesn't help my hair situation, but I do it about three hundred times a day. I look in the mirror a lot too.

I'm not really pretty. I know that, but I can't help thinking about my appearance all the time. I don't even have a problem with looking the way I do. I don't think it's really about appearance. It's more about the way it feels like greasy skin and fried hair.

I just thought you should all know I only think about myself.

Tgiving

Well, the holidays have officially arrived. In about thirty minutes, we can all in good conscious listen to xmas music. I am quite uptight about xmas invading the rest of the year in case you were wondering.

After stuffing my face and hating myself for a little bit, I went to see a movie like every other person trying to escape their family for a few minutes. I went to see Blind Side. It was great. It was the only one out I was willing to pay that ungodly sum to go see, and it pleasantly surprised me. It was funny and touching. I expected Sandra Bullock to...well suck, but I love most of her movies so I gave it a chance. It didn't suck. I would be willing to watch that movie again and again. It is Remember the Titans like in that it is a moving sports flick. I really recommend this movie.

Everyone wants to fall in love. Some people just don't know how, or maybe they are just a little too proud.

I had wedding dreams all last night. They came in all different shapes and sizes. Everyone I know that has never been married were thrown to the alter. This includes myself.

The weirdest part was during my best friends wedding I showed up in my wedding dress, because she didn't ask me to be a bride's maid. It was very odd happening, and I cried the rest of the dream for ruining her big day.

I don't know what is going on in my subconscious, but it's getting weird up in there. I'm only nineteen people. This could not be normal. It could be the fact that we were watching "Say yes to the dress" on tv, and every time someone picked a dress my roommate and I would yell about how we were never getting married. We were a little tipsy and not thinking at our best. Well, at least I had a pretty wedding.

I'm a college student. I have made a couple of decisions that I was not proud of the next day, but I will never be that care free wild child. I'm just a little too rational for that. I've been drunk before (sloppy at that), but that's a life experience that no person should be without. I am a responsible person. I don't do things unless they will end well. I never put myself in more danger than humanly possible. Just ask my mother. I never liked anything that could cause me pain.

I don't do stupid things for my own self interest. I don't want to get hurt. I might be the most protected person you will ever know. I don't over share. I'm not about to tell you something that I feel is personal in the least but. You have to hold a special role in my life for that nonsense. I have no problem sharing my opinions, which are extensions of my secret inner thoughts. You'd have to be really good at reading people to decode those cryptic messages, but if you can God-speed.

I've built walls around myself (and cliches too it seems). Don't be surprised if you realize one day that you don't know me very well. Only a few people could consolidate their information can come up with the whole picture.

I'm sorry that's just who I am. I'm not about to get hurt.

Stones at the ready

I think it is a little funny, that when I seriously start to re-look over my eternal work in progress novel is when a national competition (or whatever Nanowirmo is) starts. I have no intention of pretending I'm even taking part of the month of writing. I'll probably never finish this bad boy, but I thought it was a little funny, because I've seen that everyone is working on their novels. Coincidences are so much fun.

Now let us talk about war. I know it's Veteran's Day and that's what made me think of it. I really believe the concept of war is age old and a necessary part of the world. I get it. That does not make me any less of a pacifist. I love that there are people in this country willing to defend us, because in all honesty I don't have that much integrity. I just don't like that we have to kill some people that have nothing to do with the political agenda of their country. we do have a tendency to go after the Dictators and the militant groups after all. I don't like bombs. Guns don't make me happy. I don't like fighting wars over "survival of the fittest" scenarios either. I don't like that we're in a oil war right now, that we can't finish, because we went in there and fucked it up in the first place.

Saddam was a jerk, I know. He, however, ran his country without civil war, which is what the Iraqi people are on the verge now. I don't think it's a waste of money to fix our mistakes (actually that's probably the best use of our money). I just wish we didn't make them in the first place, don't you?

Happy Veteran's day to all those who have served this country. I really do appreciate all that you have given us, even if it doesn't seem that way sometimes. Especially to my father, the Veteran, who usually has to work this day. Yet the children who haven't get the day off, life is funny like that.

Jane

I spent the whole day watching movies about Jane Austen and "writing a paper." I realized that I either want my romantic life to mirror one of her novels or to have a fraction of her writing ability. I won't lie, I have only read Pride and Prejudice, and Northanger Abbey, while I am currently reading Emma.

I love Jane Austen. I envy the way she writes. Although, she is an exceptional authoress I tend to adore most writers of her time. I like the norm of talking in those days. I sometimes wonder if I was born in the proper century. I guess I'll have live with what I got.

I can admire and not be with little to no hostility.

Idle fancies

I have decided that I am going to write novels in my free time.

They won't be good, nor will they ever be published, but I love to write.

If you ever see my name on the cover of a book, go ahead and read it, so you can make fun of me later.

It's because I'm selfish.

It's not those things you forget to do.
It's not the uncertainty that you paint your face with.
It's not that we disagree.
It's not all those things about you that piss me off.
It's not you.
It's not me.
It's the cosmos. The universe. Fate. Destiny. Celestial Forces. God. Buddha. Geomagnetism.
It's nothing.

I love you.

There is no changing that. Since I'm even more stubborn than you are, I don't care if the universe kicks me when I'm down. Or it shouldn't be. I don't believe in fate or destiny. So, why leave my love to the selfishness of the universe? I refuse. I'm going to love you until the day I die, even if you remain forever away. I'm not letting go. No matter how much the childish, attention whorish part of my brain wants to concede. So, don't make any plans you can't fit me into.

It's the distance.
But I forgive you anyway.

(But you can go ahead and move to Boone, if you don't mind.)

Monkeys are kind of cute, guys.

I'm torn. I can't decide whether to rant about the importance of squashing ignorance in it's path or rambling about the importance of dreams. Doing both would overwhelm you, I am sure.

I choose ignorance.

This semester I am enrolled in a CI 2800 course, which is basically Teachers and Schools (and all that bullshit). This class is split into two parts. We are in a lecture setting three days a week, and we mentor at local schools two days a week. During our lectures, I'd like to say we have heart felt teacher centric conversations which reaffirm all our aspirations to shape young minds, but we do not. Yeah, it makes me sad too.

These lectures usually involve us watching movies, that only quazi fit into what the professor actually wants to talk about.

We just finished a movie entitled: The Genius of Apes. It basically tried to figure out why humans are highly evolved, educated creatures, while our nearest living relative is a few steps behind us. That's cool. I think monkeys are kind of cute.

Of course our professor has to bring up the question of teaching Creationism and Evolution in schools, which is also a valid question. (Side note: I love Inherit the Wind, it is a hella cool movie)

We do most of our conversation with the professor through emails, so no one really knows what every one is saying.

It got to a point where he had to send an email to everyone saying,he didn't much care if we thought evolution was a crack pot theory, he just wanted to know if it should be taught. That email made me throw-up in my mouth a little.

Now, I don't care what your personal religious belief are, but if your head is so far up your ass that you think Adam and Eve were real people, I don't think you should be in a college at all.

Even the majority of theologians have decided that yes, humans did evolve from a species closely related to our ape friends, but it was all intelligent design (or some bullshit like that).

If you can't tell, I'm a bit of an atheist.

I took a Hebrew literature course where we studied the Old Testament (and I did pretty well in it too. I'm shocked too). Most scholars believe that the majority of Genesis is basically explaining God's will, it's not a freakin historical account. My teacher was a Baptist minister too.

Last year, I passed a man on campus spouting out anti-evolution sentiments, and one of his arguments was "don't believe everything you read." The first thing I thought after hearing that was: 'you mean like the Bible.'

Now go ahead and stone me. I don't care. I respect the fact that you believe in something. Actually, I envy it just a little bit, but please try not to spew your nonsense on me. I'm really not it the mood to crush your entire belief system, but I might feel obligated to do so, if you get a religion stain on my new shirt.

I can be a real bitch.

There are very few things I do well. I'm ok with that. It's no big deal.

I'm no good with a paint brush, and sonnets come out of my mouth mangled. I can cook well enough to survive. I don't have the drive to be the best in school. I'm lazy and apathetic when it comes to most things, but please for your own sake, do not engage me in an argument.

I will not be your friend for the duration of our conversation if either of us get passionate. I don't hold punches (I will stay on topic though). I won't shut up until you submit or cry. I'm just not a fun person to riff with.

Luckily for you (and everyone that knows me), I do not consider much an actual argument. You really have to piss me off. Other times, it is just a discussion, nothing more.

I am a great arguer, and I love to do it too. I rarely get to, but exchanging venomous words exhilarates me. I know it is wrong on many counts. I'm pretty sure I only like it, because I am good at it. Can you really blame me for that?

My favorite thing I've ever said to someone while arguing: "I have a mouth full of words that have nothing to do with her."

Let me tell you how pathetic my life is, ok? One of my favorite people in the whole world is a dog. He isn't even an intelligent dog. He is goofy and goofy looking. He can jump at least fifteen times his own height, and he is the most spoiled creature in this whole planet.

If you aren't caught up on my life thus far, my older dog (whom I had since I was six) was put to sleep a couple weeks ago. We had gotten her a companion to harass in her old age, that would be the lovely Frank Zappa. He was initially supposed to encourage my older dog to hobble around and get some exercise.

He is a handful. He is two and half years old and not 100% potty trained ( I don't know how my parents put up with him either). He has a Napoleon complex and a through belief that if you are eating something half of it is rightfully his. I love that dog.

As I lie awake in my apartment at night and think of home, I can hear his collar jingle as if he's jumping off of something. He is the first occupant of the house to meet you at the door when you come in. He will con you into letting him sleep in your bed. I never learn my lesson. I can never sleep with him there, because he is honestly ten pounds and I'm afraid I'm going to squash him. He insists on being under the covers too, and your bed ends up smelling like dog.

He has the tendency of jumping on the dining room table and eating a whole stick of butter. He also has the goofiest little face. He walks on his hind legs and knows how to jump on command. He is truly amazing, and simultaneously infuriating.

He makes me wish they allowed pets in my apartment. Even though he would probably hate the snow, considering he won't even go outside when the ground is wet.

Isn't he just oddly adorable?

I love that I can rent my textbooks.

I am exhausted. The first day of class has come and gone, and it left me feeling like a shell of my former self. Between syllabi and bus rides that last an eternity (the red route appalcart is not your friend), I have decided that I want to either fast forward or rewind. I'm starting to remember why napping was so important.

Truth time: I did in fact wake up an hour earlier than I will for the rest of the semester. Lets face it, I'm ten kinds of paranoid. Random thoughts of my schedule being completely wrong and worrying that I'd go the wrong place had me glancing at my already abused schedule every couple minutes.

It wasn't all bad. My classes (although they seem challenging) are doable. I don't think I'll be seeing that string of A's as I did last semester, but I don't think I'll be fretting anything. I haven't gone to Chemistry yet so this is all subject to change.

I went to the school bookstore with the notion of buying something twice today. I succeeded both times unfortunately for my bank account. Buying a grand total of 135 dollars on just supplemental school supplies makes me extremely thankful that Appalachian State lets you rent your textbooks for no fee (as long as you return them on time) and will buy back your supplemental books at a reduced price. I never sell back my supplemental books, because so far they have all been rather interesting.

Yeah, I'm a paranoid nerd, who is early to everything almost to a fault.

The first day of class is steadily approaching. Between nervous excitement and paralyzing dread, I am completely unprepared. I am back in Boone, which I recently spent a week in Gastonia (my home town). Now, as I sit in my apartment across from my wonderful roommate, I can imagine how the rest of this semester will play out.

My schedule is fairly tedious. Tuesdays and Thursday are going to be long days. My first class begins at 9:30 in the morning and my last class ends at 5 in the afternoon. In those days, I will also be doing the lab for my Curriculum and Instructions class, where I must tutor some unexpecting students. It will be an experience to say the least.

Monday, I have a Chemistry lab that is scheduled to last three hours. It doesn't usually take that long (or rather it doesn't take that long for other people). I am not a science kind of girl. I will never be a science kind of girl. I don't care how things works...I really don't as long as they work.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I only have two lectures. So, Wednesday and Friday are going to be nice. Although the classes are Chemistry and Curriculum/Instruction.

I don't know if I'm going to have a good semester yet. I never do. Half way through the semester I can pretty much predict if things will go my way. My first semester of college did not go well for me at all. I was sick all the time. It was a new experience. My grades were seriously lacking. Although, last semester I made it onto the Chancellor's list with even more classes. So, it's really a flip of a coin.

Happy Birthday!

Today was my best friend's birthday (which she shares with her twin another one of my favorite people, but don't tell him that).

Every year I buy her a present within themes, because that makes it more fun for the both of us. She is truly an old soul in a young body, because one of her favorite past times is knitting. This was the theme of the year. So, my mother and I bought almost all the knitting products in Michael's you could think of. My mother loves KT like a daughter and buys her coordinating gifts with me. Did you know they have glow in the dark knitting needles? Well, you do now.

Every year is like a mini battle between the two of us, because she does not exploit her day of birth the way I think she should. It's always a small gathering of friends that go out to eat. This year we went to the movies which was a first for this particular occasion.

She chose the movie that came out today: Post Grad. She thought it would be fitting considering we will all be headed back to our educational institutions soon. Although, it is a little disheartening when one of the major points in the plot is the main character cannot find a job. What an inspiration, right?

The movie over all was decent. It wasn't great, but not awful. It was worth seeing. I being the Gilmore Girls fan that I am (don't judge me my mother and I actually talk that fast maybe with fewer cultural references and more swearing, but still), I love Alexis Bledel with almost a blind eye. The acting could have been better and so could the plot, but what it lacks it substances it makes up for in cute.

A totally ok pick if you want to watch something fluffy.

Well, my dog is pretty much begging for attention and considering he is an only child now I feel obligated to oblige. I think he is fluent in English, because I said "come on" and he bolted for the door.

Dear Jazz,

Thank you. You were my best friend when I didn't know how to talk to humans. You gave me something to love that wouldn't dare break my heart, until now. You stayed at home with me on Saturday nights when I had no where else to go. You loved me even when I was a child that was just a little too cruel.

It hardly seems fair that you are a memory before your death. Knowing that that event is coming soon is making me nostalgic. I love you, you know? I always have and always will even if it doesn't seem like it right now.

That's my fault. I can't help it. Looking into your eyes breaks my heart. Watching you struggle to do everything breaks my heart. Shatters the blood pumping organ.

You used to be able to climb fences. Do you remember that? Or when you would jump over them entirely? You were a hand full. I think you were too smart. You had to be smarter than some people.

I've called you an evil genius on multiple occasions. You always got to do just about everything you wanted with little to no regard of what we said.

I remember the snow. You were the funniest thing to watch on snowy days. We would go sledding (which you deemed too dangerous). You would grab us by the gloves and put a stop to that nonsense. Sometimes you would get skin. I bled once, but it was still more fun than painful.

You are a bit of a racist. Sexist too. I don't know how you kept that up with your failing vision or how you got the notion in the first place. To be fair you never liked anyone without our last name.

I'm sorry about my childish cruelty. I was young and didn't know how to be a good pet owner.

I remember when Dad could hold you in one hand yet you would monopolize both my arms. I remember calling you the world's biggest lap dog. Or how you would lick me right in the face despite my protests.

I hope I don't remember Friday for what it will mean to you. It is KT's birthday, and you like KT. I don't think you'd want me to remember it for that as well.

I'm going to miss you baby-dog, because you meant the world to me. <3

I live in the mountains. Everywhere you walk it is up hill. I have to take a bus to get to campus as an added little plus, but for some reason I feel compelled to buy heels. I know I won't wear them as often as I should. If there are some cute shoes on sale, I automatically buy them. It is a bad habit of old from living on flat land.

I've dedicated a lot of time (not to mention cash) to have an expansive shoe collection. The kicker being that I only wear about five pairs regularly. I guess it's ok to have one obsession that won't land you in jail. I'm not so sure about the poor house.

My mother would be proud.

I have in my life time cycled through all the possible career opportunities that would bore me to tears or make me a walking head case. I always fancied myself a bit of a writer even if that notion is a tad bit delusional.

I don't self motivate well. Thus, I need someone to expect me to get things done (and if that person could express some idea of what they want that would be great too). I've given a lot of thought to at least trying to write a novel.

If were to write a novel, this would be the beginning (and that is exactly how it is labeled on my computer):

It could have been the bitter taste of sweat as it snuck its way into my agape mouth. It could have been the increasingly horrible thoughts that raced their way behind my eyes as I tried to mask my surprise. No matter what contributing factors there was one fact that could not be overlooked: he was back and from the look of him he brought a vengeance.

Passionate

You could not call me a passionate person with a straight face. (If you can, you are much better at lying to yourself than I). I've done pretty much everything in my life half-assed as it should be done.

I have my future planned out in the vaguest sense. I don't want to be a rock star or a celebrity of any kind. I want all the simplest things most of which the average person just assumes will come their way. I want a family and a steady source of income. The only grand thing that is covered in cobwebs in the back of my mind is to travel the world.

I in true nerd fashion want to see all the foreign historical sights that I've only read about. I want to get lost in a foreign city. I want to wander around museums.

I doubt I'll ever go all the places I want before I die. This only allows dust to collect on my travel bug. Actually, doubt plagues just about all my endeavors. My unwillingness to fail has, admittedly, kept me from doing things that I did not think I would excel at. This effectively killed my passion for life.