I hesitated to post them because I feel they are whiny and depressing. However, they are raw. It was how I felt; it is how I feel now. This is my journal, truly, and if I cannot be honest here, then I have no place to which I can turn. I don't want to dedicate one day a week on my blog for me to be honest; I would rather leave it as a open-ended collection of thoughts and feelings and struggles and memories and photographs. A digital scrapbook in which dozens, even hundreds, of individuals can share with me.
Being that this is a honest scrapbook of my life and personality, I must say that I typically don't write the same way I speak. I printed out some of my blog posts as a Christmas present for my mother, for instance, who was uncomfortable reading them. "I can't do it," she told me recently. "It's like reading someone else's thoughts. I ... I ... just ... felt that I was invading on your privacy or something." She said it was strange to read unfamiliar words, because my voice, my poise, my demeanor--they all vary.
I may be incredibly verbose on paper, but I certainly struggle to string sentences to together in real life. I am awkward and gangly, laugh too loudly and make horrible attempts at jokes. I stutter sometimes and often reiterate badly mangled sentences. I don't have time to describe things in the most abstract of ways; I just take note of things: the icy coldness of my bathroom's white tile, the confetti-like reflection of Christmas lights, the tiny drops of dew on a goose feather. The surprising dead-air quietness of my apartment just after my "hippie music" stops. I try to remember my thoughts so I can share them later ... and share them in a way so that when I read back, I, too, am transported to how something looked, tasted, smelled, felt, sounded. With stories, I want each of my senses to be aroused.
In real life, I just want to keep the attention of others, which I am not so very good at. This is most likely because I am brash and awkward, and less of a communicator than I claim to be. Furthermore, I am entirely schizophrenic when it comes to talking. I've been known to say things like, "Hang on. I'm talking about llamas," "I think I'm becoming non-viable" and "How many bras have you had today, Mike?" (If you would like an explanation of the last one, then I will tell you that our conversation spawned from an episode of My Strange Addiction, in which one girl was addicted to eating her own bras.)
So, in true I-have-something-totally-random-and-unrelated-to-anything-else-I've-been-saying fashion, here are my latest thoughts. And photographs (the candy at the end of this pointless rambling).
1. After looking at Anna Z.'s blog, I feel Indy-sick. For awhile, Indiana was just as much of a home to me as Iowa was. Seeing all of the Super Bowl coverage aggravates that ache, and it forces me to remember the city, my friends, my school, my boyfriend. So when the nation explodes in a swirl of media and information, I miss it. I miss the beat of that city, the atmosphere and potential. From hundreds of miles away, I can only assume that Indy (as well as the entire state, for that matter) is filled with the same swelling pride that grows within the hearts of locals whenever the College World Series comes to Omaha.
2. I realize that, in my last post, I abbreviated the months of the year according to AP Style. Thank you, journalism, for infecting me.
3. Speaking of AP Style, please let me inform you that the word referring to the undoing/abolishing/forgetting/erasing/annulling of anything is spelled with one "l." Canceled. The word cancellation, however, has two. Curse your English forefathers for this.
4. I use capital letters a lot when I "talk" to individuals on Facebook. It makes each sentence seem a bit more pertinent. And hilarious. Besides, it's kind of fun. FUN, I TELL YOU, FUN
5. I am debating on whether or not I want to do a kitschy-themed post for Valentine's Day (like what I did for Christmas). I feel odd sharing things that are not truly mine, but--at the same time--I get inspired, too. I "like" things on Facebook, just like everyone else, and sometimes, yes, I do want to share the images, the photographers, the websites, the anything and everything that I have found interesting. In other words, don't be surprised on Valentine's Day.
6. Cats. As you should all know, I am a crazy cat-lady at heart. This video, however, is the creepiest cat-lady/cat-massage video I have ever seen. In fact, it is hilariously creepy. I saw it on a friend's Facebook wall, and subsequently "liked" and commented. Of course, my response was written entirely in capital letters and said something along the lines of WHY IS THERE A DOUBLE MINT GUM REFERENCE IN THIS VIDEO. (Nope; I didn't even bother to include a question mark.) Also, my friend sent me this photo, which I plan to use as my desktop at work.
7. I hate pickles.
8. Oreos are pretty good, though.
9. Thank you for tolerating my sarcastic randomness. Now look at photos of Boone, Iowa.
This what you end up with when you accidentally leave your shutter open for longer than you intended. And by longer, I mean eight seconds ... a hilarious amount.
I would love to do an engagement shoot here.
Why, yes, that IS a toilet seat.
* Blog title meant to make you think of "Mean Girls," which I know you are, now.
AND NONE FOR GRETCHEN WEINERS