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?