Peace Out

There are only 10 minutes of November left!

I just thought you might like to know so you can make the most of it. Because once it's gone, it's never coming back, yo.

So.

Make the most of it.

I certainly will.

West coast represent, now put your hands up!*

Why don't I live here?

Actually I've been living in Aruba for the past 18 years where the natural resources list consists of sun, sand, sea, and surf, so beat that sucka.

As we are all well aware, I was minimally involved in high school. Aka: I did nothing. And I honestly, truly, 100% did not have a problem with it. I was positive that I would not regret it.

Well, here's the deal. I was wrong.

I do regret it. But not for the reasons you would think.

Actually I regret it for a pretty selfish, stupid reason and that reason is this:

I wish I would have done something just so I could say I did it. Because you would not believe how many times people say, "So what did you do in high school?"

Nothing.

Really?

Ya.

And it doesn't help that all my roomies were freakin overinvolved!

We just had our visiting teachers come over and they were like, "Let's just go around and say what we did in high school."

Miss C.: Well I was on drill all three years, and I did basketball Junior and Senior year, and softball the first two years, but not Senior year, I did track instead. And then Senior year I was on student government. . . . .

The Rock: I did basketball all three years and volleyball the first two years and track and student government and Senior year I did soccer. . . . .

Me: I did nothing. Actually I did golf one year. Oh ya, I volunteered. That's it.

Uh.

How flippin stupid is that?!

Why didn't I just become president of the recycling club or something? At least! What the freak.

A word of advice to all you high school attendees out there: Just do something. Even if you don't want to, just do it. It doesn't even matter what it is. You'll thank me in college when people don't think you were a backwards hermit who slept under a tree and ate crabs her whole high school existence.

Misty water-colored memory*

Memory. I'm pretty sure I have the longest one. Plus I remember ridiculous details about life that nobody else thinks twice about. These two things make for a dangerous combination.

I remember Kaylee Lemmon from first grade, who I wasn't even really friends with, and I would know her face anywhere. What do you think she would do if I ran into her one day and said "Kaylee Lemmon! I haven't seen you in forever!" She would probably freeze in her tracks and say "WTF? Who are you?" And then maybe call the police.

I remember Jaqueline Blackburn from kindergarten. I haven't seen her or had anything to do with her for at least 10 years.

I remember Katrina and Jessie and Draco and Kevin... I swear, once I learn a person's name I NEVER forget it.

I overhear conversations a lot. And I never forget those either. They tend to contain minute details about random peoples' lives that are generally unimportant, but I remember them nonetheless.

Let me tell you a funny story.

There is this boy named Jared Broadbent in my ward who I'd probably said 3 words to before last week. He didn't know my name, where I'm from, or anything about me at all and probably forgot right after I told him.

I know his name is Jared Broadbent. I know he chose to live in Broadbent hall soley because it matches his last name. I know that he's from Ontario. I know that he's still only 17 and his birthday is in December. I know that he's dating Brynna Stabenow. I know that he's addicted to these little Mexican drinks called Noritos or something.

The other day, I ran into him while walking to class and I started talking to him, and subsequently he started talking to me. But I didn't mention to him that I basically knew enough about him to write a biography. Because that would just be weird and he would think that I was a stalker.

Anyway, that's just one example. There are a billion people that I know that don't know me. It's kind of sad, really. I have all this information that I don't know what to do with.

Everyone should be REALLY happy that I'm not a terrorist or something.

Moted at Chick-fil-a

Last night I went to bed at the semi decent hour of 12:45ish, which is actually quite early. (Considering the fact that the night before, I went to bed at 4am.)

I was doing my own thing in slumber land when suddenly I am woken up. I don't know how I woke up. I don't know why I roll over. But when I do, I see two people standing over me.

Me: What are you doing?

The Hybrid: Um. Okay, Chick-fil-a is opening this morning and the first fifty people get a free meal for a whole year. So we want to go and we were wondering if you want to come with us, since you have a car..."

What the?

Me: What time is it?

The Hybrid: 3ish.

Me: Uhhhh.

Miss C.: You could get free Chick-fil-a for a year too.

Me: When is this?

The Hybrid: Well, they open at 6, but we don't know if people are camping out...

Me: You want to go now???

Miss C.: Well, ya, or like 4?

Me: You guys are insane. Fine. How bout I just sleep in the car while you do your thing.

You should have seen them when I said okay. They were in shock.

So I got out of bed, put some sweats and a coat on, grabbed my pillow and blanket, and left my room. I left it! At 3am. I am so nice sometimes.

We got in the car and drove down there and sure enough, there were a bunch of tents set up in the parking lot.

We didn't really know what was going on or how this all worked, so we sent The Hybrid out to investigate. Thus the picture above. Do you see that person standing at the door of the tent on the right? That's her. She's a creeper.

After checking things out, she got back in the car to report that the people were asleep.

So, Miss C. was like, "Well let's just go out there and talk to those guys over there."

(There were some people awake, standing more by the building.)

So the Hybrid was getting out of the car when this guy walked over. Apparently he asked her something, but I don't remember/didn't hear. All I know is what she said, "Ya, we were wondering, where does the line begin?"

Guy: This is the line. There are 110 people in there and they have been there since 5:30 yesterday morning.

Moted.

I am now missing an hour of sleep, and a year's worth of Chick-fil-a. Thus is my life.

I was stressed but I did my best on that messed up test...and I was blessed!*

I'd just like to announce that I got 87% on my Physical Science test yesterday. You may be thinking "Who cares? GP always gets in the 80% range on her tests." Well let me tell you now that this was not just a test. It was a monster. It was chemistry. I did not take chemistry in high school. On top of that, my Physical Science teacher sucks face, and I learn absolutely nothing in her class. This is a miracle I tell you, a miracle.

Let me explain to you what I did to prepare....
I read chapters 18-20 in the text book (the test was over chapters 18-25). I went to the TA lab and looked over my previous test. I read chapters 21-22. I went back to the TA lab and spent half an hour asking annoying questions about chemistry. I read chapter 23. I went to Heidi's 2 hour review. I visited the TA lab AGAIN and spent 45 minutes in there clarifying chemestricial concepts. I went to Chloe's review for 2 hours. I read chapters 23-24. I left 45 minutes early to go to Chad's review and nearly got myself trampled to death trying to get a decent seat. I spent an hour and a half in Chad's review. I went home and read some more. Yesterday, I went to the top of the JFSB and studied my notes for an hour.
Then I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to fail this test, because even the smartest person I know in that class only got 70%. I walked right over to that testing center, sat down, and I TOOK THAT TEST. I spent an hour and a half reading and re-reading questions and answers. I referred back to the periodic table like, 2o times. I pulled all the properties of ionic, metallic, and covalent bonds out of my brain. I remembered that bigger molecules have a higher melting point because they have stronger dispersion forces. I spent a good 15 minutes trying to recall from Chad's review if higher frequency light created a bigger or a smaller band gap. I poured every fiber of my being into that test,

and I got a B+!

That's unheard of!
And I'm just now realizing that I actually kind of enjoyed it.
I enjoyed studying and thinking, remembering it all for the test, and then celebrating when it all paid off! It gives me hope that I can actually do things that I never thought I could do.

White Privilege

Miss C. on top, then from the left it's H2O, The Rock, The Hybrid, and Me.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the fact that I am white. Well, actually, I have been thinking about the fact that I never think about my being white.

Okay here's the deal. I have a roomie who is called The Rock for the purposes of this blog. She is Mexican. Today I asked her a question worded somewhat like this:

"Is the fact that you are Mexican always at the back of your mind? Like, I never ever think about the fact that I am white. It doesn't even occur to me. But do you think about how you are not white like everyone else?"

Remember that barbecue I attended in the summer that was for Mexicans? I told her about that and how it was so obvious to me that I was different and it did not feel normal.

She said, "I have just the thing for you to read. It talks about that exact thing."

She went in her room and brought out this article for me to read.

If you are not busy, read it. Actually, even if you are busy, read it. It is kind of long, but it is so interesting! There are things in there that I had never thought about (until now, which is what prompted my question) and I agree with a lot of it.

Just being white gives me so many advantages that I never even realized. And I feel exactly how it said about white not being a race. I don't even feel like I have a race, you know?

It's just weird to think about how much my being white is affecting my life without me noticing. Wow. I just can't grasp it.

Please read the article and tell me what you think.

Fresco's Brother/Cousin/Uncle/Neighbor

Remember Fresco from the other day?

Apparently messed-up-ness runs in the family of the flies at this dorm. Check out this video of Fresco's Brother/Cousin/Uncle/Neighbor that I took today:

I met him while sitting on the toilet, of course. But when I saw him he was on his side, scooting in circles with his front legs. It was the weirdest thing. By the time I got back to the bathroom to record him, he had managed to kind of get upright and drag himself a little more efficiently.

Now he is dead. No lie.

As you can imagine, I am moderately concerned. Two flies show up in the bathroom with crippled/missing/extra legs and they twitch and turn and be all freaky and not normal and then they both die of natural causes??! Something is not right.

This calls for an investigation.

Maybe there is something poisonous in our carpet that messes up their development and makes them all crazy. I have no idea.

Hey, whatever is killing the flies is probably killing my poor plante! Okay we need to get to the bottom of this asap.

2 things:

1. Make sure you don't get too bored while watching the video and watch it to the very end because that's the best part. He starts creeping toward the camera and then he turns and shows his mad skills at dragging his back legs.

2. I was about to revel in my awesomeness at the first video on my blog but then I remembered that GP already beat me to it. Lame. But it's still cool.

And don't think I'm a freak for filming this. It's only natural. You would have done it too.

The Dormie Lingo

Among the many things I have learned in my college living, an entirely new language has been brought to my attention. This is the Dormie Lingo. It originates in West side Kearns. Let me teach you a bit:

Actually, before I teach you, let me just say, I know most of these words are not strictly Kearns and were commonly heard at my very own high school. So don't be like, "That ain't no West side speakin! I hear dat all ova yo!" I'm just saying that since living here, I have heard this language to an extreme extent. Like, this is how they talk on a daily basis. I don't say these words. I would feel like a wanna be gangsta.

Anyway.

Tight: Cool. Not just any cool. This is like actually cool. Like, thas tight. No, that "thas" is not a typo. That's how you say it. Thas tight.

Bomb: Good. Basically only used when describing how someone does something. Dude, I'm bomb at hand stands. Well, I guess it could describe other things, too. Dude, that soup was bomb.

Moted: Kind of like our "dis," only it's a little different and instead, it's moted. For example, today we were at Sam's Club and I was in line and a cashier opened up. It was my turn so I started walking over there, but this little girl went up right in front of me and the cashier helped her instead. So my peeps said moted. Ya get?

Legit: Cool. Cooler than tight. Cool is a bad way to describe it. It's kind of like a classy cool. Legitimate. I know this one is way common even down yonder, but it's just used all the time around here so I thought I'd share.

Put {someone} on blast: When you bring something up that forces someone else to explain something they didn't want to in front of a group. . . then you put them on blast. You know what I mean, homie? Say I see H2O break a plate, but she doesn't really want anyone to know. Later that night all the roomies are chillin, talking about clumsiness and I say something like, "Well H2O can top us all with what she did just today." Then everyone is all curious and she has to explain about her breaking the plate. I put her on blast. Does that make sense? It's a bad example, but you get the point, ya?

That's another thing they say, ya?

Trippy: Weird. Thas trippy. It was trippy. It wasn't scary, it was just. . . trippy.

Sidecrack: When someone comments in on someone else's conversation, they are a sidecrack.

Take it up the butt: When someone gets all offended at something or kind of pouty at something, they are taking it up the butt. It was annoying, but I didn't take it up the butt. She kind of took it up the butt.

On top of using these words/phrases in normal conversation, they speak gangster all the time. It's quite funny.

And then there's me. I'm just a white girl who don't speak no gangsta. And please slap me if I ever try cuz I would just look like a freak.

Fresco

If you know anything about art, you know that a fresco is a painting painted directly on a wall.

Well that has nothing to do with this post. Fresco is the name of this little fly friend I made while using the toilet today.

I originally named him Albert (after Einstein, of course) but then I found out he was handicapped - both physically and mentally - and I decided Fresco was a better fit. Wouldn't you agree?

Anyway, I was just sitting there, minding my own business, when this little guy slowly crept by. I immediately noticed something was wrong. He wasn't jittery like a normal fly. He was totally calm, just crawling around. That's when I discovered his leg situation.

How many flies does a leg have?

Jk. How many legs does a fly have?

Seriously.

Four?

Eight?

No. Five.

At least, that's how many legs Fresco has. So that probably explains why he walks weird.

But his missing/extra leg does not account for his mental incapabilities. For example: He tried to climb the wall but guess what. He got to the vertical position and fell straight onto his back. Like, straight. Right onto his back. It was so funny. And then he started wiggling his {five} legs around, trying to stand back up. He did not succeed. I left the bathroom with him still struggling to get to his feet.

Approximately 20 minutes later, I remembered poor little Fresco, so I went back in there to check on him.

He's still there.

His {five} legs are still wiggling.

He still can't get up. I didn't offer my assistance. I figured it's his time to die. I can't wait to see what I find tomorrow morning.

Jk. Anyway, what I don't get is why he doesn't fly away. Does his missing/extra leg cause his wings to be dysfunctional or something? That makes absolutely no sense.

Oh well. RIP little Fresco.

Cucharadita

Isn't that the cutest word you have ever heard? It's spanish. So if you don't think it's cute, you're probably not pronouncing it right.

I found it on the nutrition facts of a bag of brown sugar.

Guess what it means.

Teaspoon.

H2O was present when I discovered that delightful word. I couldn't stop saying it. I decided I'm going to call my Chica that from now on. Little Cucharadita. It's so adorable!

Anyway, H2O stole the brown sugar from me.

Me: Give it back!!

H2O: No.

Me: Now! (Unsuccessful attempt at grabbing bag.)

H2O: No.

Me: Give it to me little cucharadita.

H2O: Thank you!

Me: For what?

H2O: You called me teaspoon. That was cute.

What? That wasn't funny to you? You had to be there. But since you weren't, I'll show you something else.

This video just cracks me up every time.

Fav line: Sorry dad. . . . my white friends.

Ha.

If you decided to enlighten yourself by watching it, I would recommend pausing it at the beginning and letting it buffer so it doesn't keep stopping throughout. Ifyouknowwhatimean.

MJ*

This past week, these white spots started appearing on my legs. I looked it up online and the only thing it that could be is a disease called Vitiligo. Yeah...that's the disease that Michael Jackson had. It turned him white.

So, I'm kind of freaking out right now. I definately do not want to turn into a splotchy dalmation. I mean, look at this:

Anyway, speaking of Michael Jackson, yesterday, when I ran into a certain someone-someone, he told me about his dream, which involved Michael Jackson. It was basically the funniest dream I've ever heard in my life. I was laughing my head off.

Oh, and speaking of dreams, last night I dreamed that I had this tall blonde boyfriend. And then all the sudden I was pregnant. And then one day I was like, I can't feel the baby moving anymore. And I ended up having a stillborn! Isn't that SO sad? Basically the crappiest dream ever.

My life is pretty much a mixture of marvel and misery right now.

I Know Where You Sleep

You know how people say that? Well I think someone said that to me recently, only they actually meant it, because the other morning, I woke up to find this:

Now, before you go judging, let me just say, this picture DOES NOT do it justice. I can't get the lighting right or something. So it's much worse in real life.

Anyway.

I got this giant bruise thing right above my foot! I have absolutely no idea where it came from.

I went to sleep like a normal human and all was well. Then I woke up to behold that.

Someone beat me in my sleep and there is plenty of evidence. Plenty.

In fact, it has now been a weekish and it is still there. What the freak? Is there some sort of creepy something roaming the world at night trying to strangle people by their ankles?

Fortunately, I have a high pain tolerance so this little boo boo hasn't bothered me too much. In fact, I like to look at it because it really does look bad.

I guess the point of the story is to watch your back because you never know where/when something will strike out and leave its mark on your body.

Voy a ir a Mexico!!!!!

AHHHHH!!!!

So. It's basically official. I mean, I've been accepted into the program and everything.

Now all I have to do is fill out all the paper work and pay my fees and what not and then I am set.

Boo and a yes.

What the heck are you talking about??? (You may be asking yourself?)

Dude. I am going to spend 4 months (end of April to mid August) in MEXICO teaching little kids good old English.

I am dead serious.

I will be living with a host family, eating their food, speaking Spanish, and getting ridiculously tan. All by myself. All summer long.

Ohhhohohoho YES.

Think about how long I have been moved out as of now, then minus one month. That is how long I will be south of the border.

This is for real.

Is this not absolutely insane?!!?!?!!!!!

6 months from now it will be, "Adios! Have a nice trip, see you next fall!"

I am cool.

Leche

Here's the deal with milk in college. We only have one tiny little refrigerator for all 6 of us to use. This fact forces us to share milk because we simply cannot have 6 gallons in there all at once. Trust me, that would NEVER fit. Ever.

To remedy this, we take turns buying 2 gallons of milk at a time, and we put our sharing skills to work.

But this creates another problem. We run out of milk ALL THE TIME. We just go through it way too fast. I swear, we buy it and then the next day we need more.

Another thing about college/refrigerators/milk is that we don't really know how to control our appliances. E.g. We wake up in the morning to find this:

Frozen milk. This pic was taken after it had been sitting on the counter for hours. So you can't even see the full damage that was done.

That just doesn't work for us. We never have enough milk as it is, but if it's frozen, we can't even use what little we have!

In addition to milk, we have seen strawberries, noodles, cottage cheese, yogurt, peppers, celery, and many more foods come frozen out of the fridge. Not pleasant I tell you.

P.S. I'll give you ten points if you can telepathically tell me what my fav part of this pic is.

Le Plante

I hate to prove you right GP, but look:

This poor little plante that you left in my care is slowly but surely dying.

I thought I could successfully raise this little guy to adulthood, but he's not even making out of his toddler stage.

I have tried all I can think of.

I have given it less water, I have given it more. I have kept it in the sun, and out.

I have given it to my mother to revive. I have given it to my roomies to revive.

Even with soothing words and sweet TLC, this plante refuses to live.

I have a theory. I think a bug is killing it. I'm not even joking. That is the only possible explanation.

Do you see that little bug hole? This is murder I tell you.

I'll invite you to the funeral. But I'd rather you didn't come since it was a gift from you to me. That just makes me feel bad.