Perceiving Patterns

I've learned in my psychology and statistics classes that we often perceive patterns in every day life, when there are just coincidental occurrences that lead us to see patterns where there are none. Well, with that skepticism in mind, I have observed a pattern in my own life that I don't think is total bogus, no matter what the statisticians say.

I'm almost positive that 90% of my phone calls are exactly 54 seconds. I'm not joking. They always follow the same pattern:

• Greeting 
• Elapsed time: 6 seconds
• Brief small talk: "How are you doing?" or "Sorry, did I wake you up?" 
• Elapsed time: 8 seconds
• Then gets down to the reason for the call: "Wanna come over?" or "Did you already get that done?"
• Elapsed time: 20 seconds
  
• Response and solution: "Yeah I'll let you know when I figure it out."
• Elapsed time: 10 seconds
• Wrap up: "Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow"
• Elapsed time: 6 seconds
• "K-bye"
• Elapsed time: 4 seconds

54 seconds exactly. It's like an accidental science. (Although, the elapsed time of each portion is just an estimate based on my own personal reflection. I'm not creepily timing you when you talk to me on the phone).

I don't know if you're like me, but you might notice you follow this formula also.
[Insert The Twilight Zone theme song here]

A Racially Tolerant Christmas

Yes, indeed, 'twas not a white Christmas. But it's okay, because despite what my statistics class may say, I'm no racist! In fact, the weather's quite nice.
(But seriously, hurry up and get some snow flying! The skiing stinks and I want nothing less than 18 feet of fresh powder next time I hit the slopes).

And in other news, can I be super cliché and unoriginal and talk about what I got from dear ol' Saint Nick? I promise I won't ramble (though this promise may be subject to change, knowing me, because a lot of times I think that I'm going to just say something concisely and then I end up talking about it for way longer than I really need to and totally boring people and using a lot more words than are necessarily necessary. So I won't do that this time).

Um, if you're still with me, congrats. AND, guess what? I got some very special, magical things  yesterday.

#1: Algernon. Algernon is a beautiful, shiny, wonderful water bottle. His name is Algernon because I like the name Algernon. Algernon.

#2: Granny socks. These are officially known as "crew socks", but that is irrelevant. These lovely little foot garments reach up to mid-calf range and come in a variety of patterns including solids, stripes, and polka dots. You may snicker at my excitement, but you just don't appreciate the beauty of these little babies.

#3: Pyrex bowls to prepare for my future or something. Huh. Well. It's seriously a good thing someone else thought of that, because I definitely didn't.

#4: Gum, Nutri-Grain bars, chocolate, and a variety of other necessities of life. You can thank Santa for the fact that I'm alive in the coming year.

#5: A ski pass. Okay, I have to admit I cheated on this one. I kinda sorta got it before Christmas. But only barely, okay? Put the pitchforks away and just accept the fact that I got my biggest present early and you didn't. Ha. Ha.

Ah what am I carrying on about? I haven't even mentioned the honest to goodness best part of my Christmas!
The very very hands down most fabulous part of my Christmas was 2 little international phone calls. Yep, both of my older brothers have taken 2-year breaks from sitting on my face and taunting me about boys to serve LDS missions. A 40 minute call from Brazil, and just over an hour from Hong Kong. I miss those boys. Well, men. Actually, they're more like somewhere in between. Moys? Yeah, I miss those moys. And talking to them was simply bodacious. 

I hope you're having happy holidays and stuff or whatever, and I wish you success in bathroom-scale-avoidance at least until next week. And a final holiday message to family, friends, and neighbors everywhere:

STOP FEEDING ME!

Leetle Post

"This very secret that you're trying to conceal  . . .

 . . . is the very same one that you're dying to reveal."

Oh Feist, you are so wise.

I'm No Quitter

In fact, I've rarely put a book back on the shelf without reading every last word. But sometimes, you just can't go on. Like when you pick up The Christmas Sweater by Glenn Beck because it's at your house, and it's Christmas time. You know Glenn Beck is, well . . . never mind, no need to talk politics here. But the point is, he didn't become famous for his writing prowess.
That was blindingly apparent when I reached page 4 and read the following analogy:

"Others might have called him a baker, but I thought of him as a master craftsman or a sculptor. Instead of a chisel he used dough, and instead of clay he used frosting - but the result was always a masterpiece."

And that was it. It's hard to convince yourself to press on after reading the absolute worst analogy you have ever seen.

If you happen to love that book, please accept my apology. I'm sure it's a great story full of Christmas spirit.

What does that spell?

Sleep is for the weak! But is still more valuable than 1st period . . .
Easily distracted has a new meaning.
New homework habits are forming, but they sure aren't pretty.
Insecurity is obsolete - who cares what your hair looks like these days?
Operation Procrastinate is now in action.
Responsible? What does that mean again?
Inside my mind's eyeball, a lot more is able to be making of sense (← classic example).
Tests aren't worth studying for. I'm pretty sure watching Psych is just as effective.
I'm almost ready to be done with high school, but being in college sounds stinkin' hard.
Saturday: homework and room-cleaning day, or doing whatever the heck I want day? Ha, ha, funny question.

I never thought I would be infected with the incapacitating effects of Senioritis. But alas, it happens to the best of us.

Most Un-Favorite Christmas Songs

The feminist: "Baby it's Cold Outside" 

"We will not be that easily manipulated!"

The insomniac: "Santa Claus is Comin' To Town"

"He won't see me when I'm sleeping, because I don't sleep. It hurts."

Grandma: "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reigndeer"

"I may not be young and spry, but I can still outrun a reigndeer!"

2nd - grader: "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"

"Eeeeeeeeeeew . . ."

Deaf: "I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day"

Blind: "I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In"

Highway Patrolman: "Here Comes Santa Claus"

"We have to make a whole lane just for him to come down. It's a real pain."

Any race other than white: "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas"

Botanist: "Need a Little Christmas"

"'Haul out the holly'? Please, these people have no idea how to handle delicate plants."

Midget: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"

"What are you trying to say, huh?"

Sunburned: "Rudolf the Red-nosed Reigndeer"

"Sure, everyone pities Rudolf when people make fun of his red nose . . ."

Me: "A Wonderful Christmastime"

It is so utterly pointless. I swear, if I hear that song one more time . . .

MY "grown-up" Christmas List

The substance of my Christmas lists has shifted gradually over the years, as I'm sure everyone's does. And while the song "My Grown-Up Christmas List" is one of my holiday faves, I still have other things I ask for from good ol' Saint Nick. I thought I would show you a copy of my letter to Santa this year, that I may or may not have actually sent.

Dear Santa,

By the time you get this, it will almost be Christmas, I'm sure. So I just want to tell you my Christmas list. And since I'm also posting this online, you should probably collaborate with any of my blog followers just to make sure none of them got me this stuff before you did.
First, I want a unicorn. Does that require an explanation? I don't think so.
Second, I want time-management skills. Not a self-help book, because then I would just waste 2 hours reading the book and proceed to forget everything it said. Just be creative with this one.
Next, clothes and boots. (I'm a teenage girl, I can't help it!)
Then, a puppy. Just like I've asked for every year since I was in kindergarten.
Also, sleep in a can. I'm not talkin' 5-hour energy or some form of highly-concentrated caffeine, I'm talkin' the real deal, the kind of stuff that isn't exactly in stores. The stuff you have to be magical to actually get. If anyone can do it, you can, Santa!
A narwhal, and a pool in the backyard to keep him in.
A Sergio Flores (Sexy Sax Man) cardboard cut-out. Just imagine the potential . . .
And finally, of course, for everyone in the world to be happy. Yeah, this one might be tricky. But totally worth it, right? (Hint to anyone reading this: it's your job to at least make an attempt on this one!)
Sincerely, merrily, and yours truly,
A-Money Glazed Donut G-Rated WHAT?!

Thanksgiving Quotes

I know this is later than it should be, but don't whine about it. Just be thankful.

"The habit of saying thank you is the mark of an educated man or woman. Express appreciation to everyone who does you a favor or assists you in any way. Thank the Lord for His goodness to you. Thank the Almighty for His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, who has done for you what none other in all this world could do. Thank Him for His great example, for His tremendous teachings, for His outreaching hand to lift and help. Thank Him for His marvelous atonement. Confess His hand in all things."

and . . .

"How magnificently are we blessed! How thankful we ought to be! Cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving in your lives. Make it the very nature of your lives. It will impart an added dimension to your character that will give depth and strength."

-Gordon B. Hinckley 

in Stand A Little Taller

Laughing at myself, as usual

Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself. Like when it's Sunday night at the end of Thanksgiving break, and you realize a few things:

You had a goal to be in bed by 10, or at latest 11 pm.
It's 12:30.
You haven't even looked at homework since school got out last Tuesday.
You can't remember what, if any, homework you had in the first place.
You spent more time during the break playing Tiny Wings and watching Psych than checking things off your to-do list. (In my defense, those are two of the most addicting things in the world).
You will probably be taking that nap tomorrow after all . . .
You honestly don't feel an ounce of guilt about any of this, because you had a flippin' fun break!

Yep, this is exactly what went through my head last night. Or, I guess, this morning. Weeeeeird . . .

And, for your own personal enjoyment, Christmas song of the moment: "This Christmas Day" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Ruined, I say, Ruined!

It's a Sunday evening, and you are listening to some peaceful music. The piano keys express a peaceful melody, the violins sing a mournful accompaniment, and the harp gently caresses the notes of a lovely tune. You sit back in your chair and sigh as the music envelops your strained nerves and tensed emotions.

Then suddenly, coarse white noise and scratchy splashes.
A horrible, cantankerous squawking.
Crashing, harsh, noise that fills your ears.

You change the song, and any last trace of peace you felt has fled from the tainted song.


Bottom line:
Who decided it was a good idea to put "soothing" nature sounds, like ocean waves and birds calls in recordings of instrumental music?
I will always profess that it is a very, very bad idea.

One More Time, If I May

I need another moment to be "just like err'body else." I hope someone, somewhere, is getting something out of this . . . I guess I am if  no one else is. 

"Love that will not betray you,

dismay or enslave you,

It will set you free

Be more like the man

you were made to be."

-Mumford & Sons

Knowing someone loves you - your mom, dad, friend, sibling, or knowing God loves you - 

It's truly liberating.
It helps you see who you can be, and who you are meant to be.

"Nearer my God to thee, nearer to thee"

I recently realized I had all the verses to this song memorized because I have sung it so many times. 

It still gives me something new to think about every time I sing it.

If you don't feel something while you sing this song, I'm convinced you don't have feelings at all.
I don't know what it means to you, but its message is important to me.

When you don't get your own obligations out of the way first thing, you are never left with extra time to meet the needs of others. My procrastination is getting in the way of my serving others. Someone, somewhere, needs my help, always. Wasting my own time leaves me no time to help them. 

I need to get a handle on things, before I lose hope of ever getting back on track.

No one is ordinary.

But we all have something in common. 

Everyone's a person, whether you like them or not.

You are you, I am me.

Making someone smile is making the world better. 

Smiling is universal. 

Spread love, love is kind. 

You are extraordinary, no matter what they say.

You can do something amazing.

So do it. 

Because no one else can do it for you.

How to Be Cool

Don't go by anyone else's definition of cool. 

You have your own definition. As long as you are confident with your own image, you are cool to yourself, and you are cool to people who are like you. 

Different people think different things are cool.

You may define cool as any of the following (and even others):

Being the most fashionable person at school, with the best clothes.

Having a worldwide high score on Doodle Jump.

Being able to beat all of your friends at Halo. (Or in my case, singing on Rock Band...)

Being a soloist or lead in a choir, orchestra, band, musical production, play, etc.

Being an MVP in football, basketball, or another sport.

Winning piano competitions. 

Wearing a vest lined with ice packs at all times.

Never taking a shower in hot water, always cold.

Living in Antarctica.

Being hilarious and clever.

Being hilarious and, well, not clever.

Getting a 4.0 GPA and 36 on the ACT.

Being able to bake delicious foods, such as cakes, or maybe lobster.

Never going to class.

Having perfect attendance. 

Getting into a super prestigious college and getting a master's degree in economics and having several published works by age 25. 

Never having to deal with the stress of any of those things, because you are a drug dealer, or maybe you just work at a snow cone shack.

Being able to play "Chopsticks" and "Heart and Soul" like a boss.

Being one of those people that doesn't care what anyone thinks, so people like you. (Kind of ironic how that works, huh?)

Having read every Harry Potter 18 times, and you have never gotten into a fight because whenever someone bothers you, you just have to think "AVADA KEDAVRA!" and you are never annoyed by them again.

Being able to ride a unicycle. 

Being whatever your friends think is cool. 

Being able to do a gainer off of a cliff. 

Always having good Halloween costumes. 

Being really good with a yo-yo.

Having super awesome perfectly swooping hair that flows like golden silk in the sunlight. 

Having a luscious mustache. 

Pretending you are a dinosaur. 

Having met Jimmer Fredette, or Barack Obama, or the lead singer of your favorite small-town local band.

Being a professional rapper/gangsta/always wearing oversize t-shirts and hats.

Driving really fast in your Maserati that your parents gave you for passing a Biology test.

Etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. (what the heck is the rule about using multiple "etc."?)

I may not agree with all of these, but somebody somewhere probably thinks "Whoah, they're cool" when they encounter someone with one of these qualities. So all I'm saying is, uh...um...well...

is there a point to this? 

I guess the point is, you can be cool if you want. You probably already are cool. You just need to say, "even though some people don't think so, being able to recite the lyrics to every Phil Collins song ever written in under 20 minutes while making marshmallow sculptures of U.S. presidents is pretty cool!"

Ultimate Disclaimer

Hello, anyone I interact with. I must not be held accountable for anything I say, do, or wear for the next 7 days. Please ignore me and refrain from reporting to school administration of I exhibit any of the following behaviors:

• Not responding to simple questions, such as "what class do you have?" or "what is your name?"
• Wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and unkempt hair every day
• Drooling excessively
• Falling asleep during a conversation
• Forgetting about one or more major tests
• Acting illegally without realizing it, such as running stop signs
• Asking for piggy back rides to class
• Asking for help putting on seatbelt
• Having a meltdown due to excess amounts of emails (I had THREE whole emails to answer at once today. It was so stressful). 
• Bringing a pillow and blanket to school so as to take naps in the back corner of the classroom
• Telling irrelevant stories about garbanzo beans and "this one time when I was tying my shoes, I kinda got distracted, and forgot to tie my shoe all the way. Then I remembered."

Also, for your own and society's safety, please refrain from using the following words or expressions in my presence:
College, application, transcript, payment, deadline, homework, standardized, Hamlet, Psychology, college, college, college, future, occupation, major, money, scholarship, contest, essay, grade, piano, Sadie Hawkins, food, exercise, sleep, sleep, sleep, test, AP, planning, form, freshmen, college.

Your cooperation is much appreciated - thanks from that one girl who you might recognize as being really out of it all the time and having zero coherence who has gotten at most 6 hours of sleep any given weeknight of this school year.

P.S. Is it Friday yet?

Just Like Err'body Else

Seems like everyone uses their blog as an outlet for their deep thoughts that are difficult to just interject into casual conversation. For example:

"Hey what's up?"

"When they say you go to school to learn, I thought they meant historical facts and mathematical concepts.

What they really mean is, you learn who you are. You learn what you like and don't like. You learn who your real friends are, and why you love them. You learn how to love, and how to care, or you learn how to hate, or you learn apathy. You learn how little you know. You learn how different people are from one another. You learn who you want to stand out as, or you learn if you like standing out at all. You become someone new - you become your own person, or you become a combination of everyone else's input.

You change.

Am I proud of how I've changed? Of who I am now?"

"Uuh . . . I gotta go."

Yet, that would be perfectly normal to post on a blog, right? So, I'm going to take a moment to be "just like err'body else" in the blogging world. Here are some more thoughts I've had lately. Because even though I pretend to be comical, I actually think seriously sometimes. Try not to get too bored.

"As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts

Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms

Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?"

-Mumford & Sons

This song makes me think about people in general, and I ask myself:

Are they really in love? Or are they just afraid of being left alone? 

Do they just feel like they need a place to belong in this sometimes cold world?

Having no regrets doesn't mean you never mess up. It means you appreciate what you have learned from your mistakes, and move on.

I like being a woman (or teenage girl for now I guess). Despite my feelings about all the jokes, and the "Woman, make me a sandwich!" etc, this is what I'm good at. I actually enjoy making sandwiches (don't get any ideas though, boys) and cooking in general. And I would much rather do some scrapbooking in my kitchen with scented candles all around while listening to Michael Bublé than go hunting or hang out in a sporting goods store. (Although, I must admit, much of my childhood was spent playing tackle football, wrestling, building forts, hiking, and exploring with my brothers. And I loved every second of it). 

It's hard to admit this to myself, because I never want to fall under any sort of "conventional" category, never ever never ever never. But I can't deny my love of chick flicks any longer, dang it!

Dear anyone who has ever interacted with me in any way shape or form,

I'm different in some way because of you. Thanks, probably.

Leave the Creepin' to Alfred Hitchcock

Because I stink at writing scary stuff. Basically the scariest thing that ever happens to me is . . . well, maybe I should elaborate. 

Walking down the hall. Out of breath. Panting, but trying to appear composed. Late to statistics class again.

"THAT'S 15  MINUTES IN DETENTION!" someone yells. 

Walk faster. Don't meet their eyes. 

Do they know who I am? Can't let them see my face. Haunting images of being locked away during lunch. 

Haunting . . . haunting. 

Something on your arm. A mosquito? A flea? No. It's winter. 

A hair? No. PLEASE NO. 

Panting. Does the fear show in my face? Look at my arm, nothing there. 

Look away. Feeling is back. I know there is a hair on my arm. A long, detached, piece of me, hanging loosely.

Look down again. 

Disappeared. No long hair in sight. 

no. No. NO. 

PLEASE. 

Feel around, people stare. Shaking my left arm fanatically. Quizzical looks. 

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" I scream at the ghost.

I am haunted by the invisible presence creeping on my outer layer of skin.

Why . . . why . . . 

Despair. Horror. Brush and scrape arm. Brush and scrape. No avail. What is this phantom?

Lay down and give up. 

I will never escape this curse.

Sometimes Being Loud Is Bad

Wanna hear a story about something that happened to me earlier this year?
No?
Too bad.


        "I thought it was sad - well, bitter-sweet, really. I liked it though. What about you?" I said to my cousin as we walked out of the theater after seeing The Glass Menagerie. 
      We entered the foyer area, where a small gift shop was located. Right in front of the table with some Shakespeare books was standing one of the actors from the play we saw the night before, Romeo and Juliet. 
       About 5 seconds after I noticed him, my cousin started shout-whispering to me, "Aubrey! It's the PRINCE! Oh my gosh, Aubrey, look, it's the prince! Aubrey it's the prince!"
       Here's thing the thing about "shout-whispering": 
a) since you're "whispering" you think no one can hear you, and b) this makes it embarrassing when people can, in fact, hear you perfectly. 
       As I tried in vain to whisper (without the shouting part) that "yes, I know, I saw him already, sh, he's going to hear you", it was no surprise that his gaze shifted to the crazy girl that was frantically pointing at him and grabbing my arm.  (And just so you know, she's in college. We're not talking about a 5-year-old here).
       As swiftly as possible, I ushered her away to the restroom, where my aunt had gone just before us and was already in line (you know how ladies bathrooms get, it's pretty ridiculous). It wasn't long before we were laughing hysterically, as I informed my cousin that "the prince" was fully aware of her devoted recognition and admiration for him. This warranted a remark from my aunt, that she "didn't want to be seen with us" because we were "so loud". 
       Of course, I had to launch into an overly excited - and, I admit, somewhat loud - explanation of the events that had just transpired. 
       It wasn't long before an elderly woman with hair like a rusty sponge turned around and boldly pronounced:

"Ma'am, my ears are normal!"

       My vocal chords sunk into oblivion as I gawked at her, open-mouthed, and she expounded, "And you're giving me a . . . "
       At this point, her frustration was such that she could only motion grumpily near the area of her ear and turn back around. 
       The silence that followed was thicker than a baby elephant and not quite as cute. 
       Even though there was an enormous line of probably otherwise chatty women, every one of them was as shocked into silence as I was. Needless to say, we gave her ears a little break from . . . whatever they were suffering from. 
       I attempted to mumble a slight "Oh . . . sorry . . . I . . ." but it was not to be mended. The harsh chill in the air was interrupted by a particularly cheery woman, when she came out to wash her hands. She remarked, "Wow! This is the quietest group I've ever seen!"
       I never truly understood the meaning of "awkward silence" until that moment. 
       Then I did the worst thing I possibly could have; I met eyes with my cousin. It was all either of us could do to refrain from boisterous laughter. Down, down! Stay down in the thick of my belly! No, no! Don't come up to my mouth! I stifled it the best I could, but it's easy to say that when I got out of that restroom, it wasn't soon enough. 
       
       To this day, all my aunt has to say is, "Ma'am . . ." and I'm done for.

Do I Talk To Myself?

Of course not, you wild giraffe-baboon! (I just pictured that. I don't recommend it. I think my brain just shorted out . . . uuuuhhh . . .)


Okay, okay, maybe I talk to myself a little bit. But only inside my head, presumably.
My most recent conversation with myself went something like this:

"Hey, remember that one time, when you used to - "
"What, spend more than 5 minutes on my hair?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Or, like, actually plan what you were going to wear?"
"I'm pretty sure that never happened."
"Really? I feel like you used to do that all the time."
"You're probably thinking of . . . I dunno, the prom maybe? 'Cause I think  I did my hair for that."
"Yeah that must be what I'm thinking of. For sure. Maybe homecoming too?"
"Most likely. But other than that . . . choir concerts?"
"Ha. HA. You're a comedian."
"You're right, dumb question. You just don't really care anymore, do you?"
"Did I ever?"
"Who knows?"
"Does it matter?"
"Uh . . . what were we talking about again?"
"AH! I NEED TO DO STATS HOMEWORK!"
"K-bye."

And . . . now you've had a look inside my head.
You'll probs never ask me what I'm thinking about now. But that's cool. Because it's an inside joke between me and myself anyway. Not even I is in on the joke. Be quiet, I, you're not invited!

Don't trust I. I is super conceited. I only cares about itself. I stick my hypothetical tongue out at you, I.

It's Time.

I've been putting it off for way too long.
I'm just so afraid I'll make things worse than they already are.
But then again, I don't think it can get much worse.
And it will only keep eating away at me, always in the back of my mind.
I need to solve this.
Unless I do everything that I know won't work, it has to get better than before, right?
I just need to grit my teeth and do it.
It won't take long. I know what I need to do, and exactly how to do it.
I'm ready.
I've waited long enough.
And it's time.



Yes, my friends, it's time for me to put a new screen protector on my iPod.

And I'm pretty sure you have to live in a dust-free world, or maybe be a wizard, to do it without any pesky little air bubbles. Does anyone have another solution? Because as much as I wish I was a wizard . . .

(This is where I would put a winky face, if I was into that sort of thing).

Happy People

You know what I realized?
The happy people are the people who are fascinated by little things and find joy in everyday occurrences.

Although, it doesn't hurt to have awesome friends and randomly find a million dollars in the street.

NO! MONEY ISN'T HAPPINESS!


...sorry. um. yeah.
Really though! Happy people are people who laugh at small things that others don't notice. Happy people are people who smile at everyone they pass on the street. Happy people are people who aren't living their life to impress anyone else, but are living life to live life.

For example: If you are disappointed by the apparent lack of hilarity in this post, just read it over and over until you have it memorized, then stand up in the middle of math class and recite it loudly with conviction until the glazed looks of "what the..." are too much to bear, and nonchalantly sit down. Then it will be funny.

Yep.

The Funniest Man in the World

Dan Bergstein.
Well, actually, when I am married, my husband will probably seem like the funniest man in the world.
But for now, it's THIS GUY. (And no, I'm not saying I'm going to marry Dan Bergstein).
If you don't know who he is already, then you need to read this: (if you have read the Twilight series)
Blogging Twilight

Or, in the spirit of October, watch this genius (well actually just hilarious) Halloween craft:



You might be saying: Aub that's ridiculous that video is a whole 7 minutes long there's no way I can possibly watch that that is such a waste of time I'm not going to pause my music and waste 7 whole minutes I could be spending on Facebook just so I can watch that that is so dumb.
And in that case, I say to you: Just watch it, it's worth the 7 minutes you wussypants.

K-Bye. (Also, that is the most useful expression on the phone ever).

When Life Gives You Awk . . .

. . . make it into entertainment for everyone else.
Instead of boring you with another whine session about how I never get enough sleep, I'm going to relate an experience I had over the summer, when I flew on an airplane by myself for the first time.

       I am in the line to get my boarding pass. I feel embarrassed because I'm caught in between a small group of men, all what I would call "sophisticated men of class". Tall, simple but classy clothes, model hairdos, and the slightest facial scruff. I feel vulnerable between the white guy who looks like a Macey's model and the black guy who is so . . . smooth, cool. I hate to admit it, but it is impossible to deny their attractiveness. I feel so undeniable small, asking myself why in the world I decided to wear a big bow in my hair today. I think to myself, "they're probably looking at me like I'm a lost puppy", as they talk over me (literally - these guys are tall, remember?). I try to appear as composed and gathered as I can. 
       Clearly, all of them are traveling together for some sort of business venture. I try for what seems like ages to think of a way to express that I don't mind if the one behind me goes ahead, so I'm not caught in the middle anymore. I just want to get out of the uncomfortable sandwich situation. 
       I'm suddenly aware that the man behind me is starting to inch forward on the right side of me, as if trying to make conversation with his co-worker easier. The other starts  narrating, "Whoah! Making his move in the right lane!" as if we are race cars and he is passing. I figure this is as good a chance as any to say something.
       "If you both are together, you can go ahead. I don't mind," I say as cordially and professionally, but anything but sweetly, as I can.
       As one mumbles "Oh no that's alright," the other boldly states, "Oh, no, we're not together."
       My cheeks rush with scarlet as I realize what that just sounded like.
       He has the audacity to add, "He doesn't even like me."
       I stumble, with something like, "No, I meant, like . . . uh . . ."
       As they chuckle to themselves, the black-and-white floor tiles suddenly become extremely intriguing. 
       
       I guess my pre-school teacher was right about not talking to strangers.

Dear [insert your name here],

You are, like, really cool. You can be whatever you want to be.
Except, maybe, a narwhal. Or a rock.
Follow your dreams . . . and your heart . . . and stuff . . . you might be surprised at how beautiful your life can be.



The point is, you are a person. And because you are a person, you have a brain (hopefully). This brain is pretty cool, because, you see, it's kind of what keeps you alive.
Always remember to thank your medulla, because it's pretty difficult to eat cookies, belt along with Aretha Franklin, or ride a unicycle up a cliff when you're out of breath.
And don't forget to thank your motor cortex, because how else would we go for long walks on the beach? After all, this seems to be an activity everyone enjoys. (Unless they just say it for kicks and giggles . . .because it doesn't seem like many people actually do go for such walks).
And always thank your association areas, because without them, you'd never be able to do your math homework. (Well, not that we all do this anyway, but you know what I'm getting at).



Did you know that your brain's capacity to retain information is virtually limitless? (Don't excuse him Mr. Osborne!)

So I think it would be appropriate for us all to wake up in the mornings and say, "Hey brain, you're pretty cool. I don't like having to memorize you for a test, but you're still alright. Thanks for helping me with, well, everything I've ever done, thought, or subconsciously processed. You're the boss. Literally."

You, whoever you are, have potential. I'm not just talking about the action potential among your neurons, I'm talking about YOU. Your WHOLE self.



You've heard people say "don't cheat yourself", and you've brushed it off like unwanted dust on your sleeve, because you've heard it from your algebra teacher or a brochure for class rings. Well, now a non-affiliated-with-any-such-person-or-advertisement-rapper wants to tell you the same thing. Don't cheat yo'self, dawg.

Homeskillet (I'm a rapper, remember?), you can learn a lot, and you can make a difference in some other homeskillet's life. You ain't got no excuse for less than 100%!

All I'm saying is (and don't worry, I'll say this part in proper English), if you spend your whole life worrying about things that don't matter and wasting your time on things of no value, you really are cheating yourself. If you never push through hard times, or never challenge yourself, or never make goals, never aspire to anything above where you are . . .

. . . then you'll never know how how wicked legitimate your life can be. 

So, moral of the story: if you keep using abbreves, like "legit", you'll never know the exquisite wonder of using the full word.

Legitimate . . . legitimate . . . legitimate. . .

Ah, being a nerd is fun.