Today, therapy > entertainment. Sorry.

Well.
I'm sitting in the 2002 Winter Olympic and Alf Engen Ski Museum Coffee Shop.
It is also probably worth mentioning that I'm in Utah. 
Blogging.
I mean, I still don't know what curling is, so they definitely didn't do a good enough job. But I know who Alf Engen is. And you're about to, once the Wikipedia article in the next tab loads. See? Isn't he cool? I know ALL about him.


This fortnight past, I've been on a trip around the southwestern portion of the United States, singing my heart out with my women's choir and spreading the joy of music to whoever frequents our concerts.
In other words, I've been stuck on a bus with fifty chicks for two weeks.


Bethany mentioned today as we made our way over to this establishment that the influx of girl talk has caused us all to be thinking way too much about weddings and okay really this is completely irrelevant but apparently this coffee shop has never made a vanilla chai tea drink until today. I guess history is just meant to happen here. Regardless. We talked about girl talk (which I guess means we did girl talk, which is ironic in some obscure way) and how it's making us think way more about things like boys and flowers, and then she said something really deep about how flowers bring joy because they are life that can't be captured by words, and I naturally I stopped talking because everything I said after that sounded stupid.


But she's right. About both things, but right now I'm talking about the...talking. Girls and guys together make for good conversation dynamics, because they don't just bring two different perspectives, they bring two different sets of common sense. Girls like to plan their weddings so that they have a good idea of what to do when the big day actually comes. Guys don't because, heck, we're eighteen and why would we be planning it now? We're not getting married until...later. (This is why falling in love is so crucial, because it gives them motivation to do things for your wedding, and that's why grooms don't show up in jeans and work boots unless they're short on cash or immoderately hipster.)
Girls also talk about falling in love a lot. They talk about how many kids they want. What they'll name them. What ethnicity they want to adopt them from. Who they'll have them with. What they want in a husband. What they used to want in a husband. What they'll probably end up with. How they'll get married. When they'll get married. What job he'll have. What car they'll be able to afford. Whether or not they're comfortable driving a mini van. How many kids will fit in a mini van. How many kids they want...
Dizzy yet? You shouldn't be. It's like MASH for bored grownups. Anyway, that all happens, and that's kind of the shorthand...
The really really short shorthand is that girls talk about themselves until their opinions start clashing. Then they talk to someone else about the other person.


As you may be able to tell from this post and ones previous, I have difficulties dealing with women, particularly in large quantities. Which is why I was so surprised that this tour went as well as it did, because I became so close to so many people and gained respect through understanding the pasts and consequently the behaviors of all of them. And all of them were girls. 
Weird.


Last night, unfortunately, it just became a little too much, and I called a friend in desperate need of a man to talk to, not because the relationship talk made me rabidly interested in one, but because if I didn't hear a voice that wasn't at least two octaves below mine, I would probably faint. It helped, but not enough.


So I wrote this.


I really really like trees. Big, tall green ones. Most trees are like that. I like hamsters and sometimes I go into pet stores to stare at them. I spend too much money when I'm with my friends. I want to be a scuba diver and I hate sharks. Sharks only kill two people a year. My favorite food is strawberries. My favorite subatomic particle is a quark, but electrons are pretty. The kids behind me can spell the F word. I want to drink tea out of a mason jar every day because the Russian person in my Exodus class did and I want to be her. I'm scared of horses, but not cows. I used to hate onions but they really aren't that bad; I'm still working on tomatoes. People that hog the spotlight make my neck hurt. Chai tea is okay. It tastes like pumpkin pie if pumpkin pie was a juice. I go barefoot. I wish I played an obscure sport or the piano. I'm probably going to have a lazy eye because I never wear my glasses. I miss my dog. She pees too much. The other day I called my dad to ask him about a song because I missed hearing him sing. My favorite basketball player is my little brother, and my favorite football player is my other brother, who also plays hockey and soccer. I like being intellectual. I like reading books because they make me feel intellectual.
I also won't post this on Facebook because I don't think it's good enough.
That's all for now. I have a call time to make and I'm tired and I don't know what to say anymore and trying to be funny is exhausting.
Have a lovely day and I'll be home soon.


Much love,
Lydia

I might as well.

Well. Blogger got all fancysauce on us and now I have to adjust.
At least they didn't change anything too important. Like this weird font I always use.


It's been a while, so...hello.
College is still fun.
I made soap in lab today and then tested it on myself and apparently that was legal.
That was an experience.


...yup...


...okay look. It's been a little goofy over here in this city of sketchy tacos, and all my frustration that I like to bottle up into public displays of sarcasm has displayed itself around situations that would be unkind to write about, because they're personal and enough people have already been hurt. And a lot of my friends reading this understand that this past month, especially, has wigged out essentially all of us, and there's been heightened tension and excess swearing and a couple of us even went to therapy.
But I do know that I'm not the only person who's stressed, because next Tuesday is May 1st, and to some of you that means nothing beyond the fact that it is a Tuesday, but for a select few of you, it implies something huge that has the potential and probability to change the course of your whole life. It's a national holiday, unbeknownst to most, called "National Sign Your Life Away to College Day."


It might actually have a real name, but that's not important.


So in light of these poor little seniors and overachieving and most likely obnoxious juniors' predicaments and fears, and because I know exactly how they felt last year when I made my terrifyingly real decision to commit somewhere, the topic of today's post is college and the things about it that are actually important to know.
Keep in mind that the MythBusters haven't even touched this topic, so this is naturally difficult territory to approach.


College: the knock-off MythBusters edition [alternate title: Some tips and stuff].

• Caffeine addictions are scary. So is falling asleep in the middle of a fifteen page paper and waking up an hour before class. Don't lie to yourself.

• Sooner or later, you will have to realize that your money is vanishing. Realize it sooner.

• Procrastination is all the happiness of dating someone and all the despair of being dumped the night before an exegetical paper is due. Don't make that mistake.

• College wifi is from hell, and wireless printers are the devil.

• Change your sheets. Bed bugs are real.

• Buy a lot of those pretzels with the peanut butter in them. You'll thank me later.

• Don't be embarrassed when you go home and start crying over how good dinner is.

• You probably only need to do laundry once every two weeks.

• You also really only need to wash your jeans once every...five wears. Not that I do that.

• Realize that no matter how hard you try, your dorm room will still look horrifically cramped.

• Your roommate PROBABLY won't be a psychotic murderer. But it's your decision to trust me.

• Roommates will either be your best friends, your worst enemies, your best friends become worst enemies, your awkward house guests, any range of acquaintanceship, or never there. All of those options are fair game. Be ready for anything.

• Keep your part of your room clean. Your roommate will either love you or not care. It helps to err on the side of safety.

• Fish poop a lot and then they die. Something to keep in mind.

• If your parents aren't sending you care packages...ask them to. Love and free cookies.

• You can't do all your homework in an hour anymore.

• You can't not do your homework and still get A's, either.

• RESPECT your profs. Unlike some of your past high school teachers, they actually do know what they're talking about. Most of them have doctorates, and...they might have written your textbook. It's absolutely terrifying.

• High stress situations can be somewhat alleviated by Youtube videos of laughing babies.

• Learn how to longboard.

• Get a power strip because electricity systems in dorms suck almost as much as having your computer explode spontaneously.

• I know you want to be that kid who pulls all-nighters because it's funny and exciting to do everything last minute. Be the kid who makes everyone feel bad about how behind they are, even if they aren't behind, because you're just so ridiculously ahead. Then they'll pull up their work effort and do better, and then their grades will go up, and then the average GPA will go up, and then your school can become more selective and break the hearts of all the obnoxious freshmen you went to high school with. And that's funny.

• You will write fifteen page papers in college. You will write twenty page papers in college. You will write thirty page papers in college. And you will live.

• ...you actually can write fifteen page papers in one night.

• Once or twice a week, naps are golden gifts from sweet dancing cherubs that float down from the sky with unicorn dust and baby dinosaurs. Every day, they start to become a problem.

• Bring an umbrella.

• Bring rain boots, and expect people from Washington to joke about California's lack of storm drains.

• RateMyProfessor.com is a delightful resource; keep in mind, however, that you must check the spelling of the entry to ensure you can take the reviewer's opinion seriously.

• Eventually you will realize that the ridiculous stuff you're doing with your friends is just as fun as whatever the crazy partiers are doing.

• Just because you're afraid of the freshman fifteen does not give you license to stop eating.

• There may come a point where you must schedule every ten minutes of your life to ensure that everything you need to do gets done. Have no shame.

• There may come a point where you can't get everything done, no matter how absolutely hard you try. Have no shame.

• Parking. Death. They are synonymous.

• Print EVERYTHING on LOW INK. It looks the SAME and it will save your life or $50. Both of those are good things.

• If you have snacks in excess, you will eat them. All of them. In ten minutes. The second you move into your dorm room. Hide them. (I know there's an awkward space here. I tried to fix it and nothing happened.)

• Boys do NOT magically become noble, romantic-comedy-material men when they turn eighteen. The only difference I've been able to notice in "college guys" [high schooler squeals] is that a lot of them have figured out how to grow awkward mustaches. I don't know who started that rumor, but I heartily debunk it.

• ALL the problems of being a teenage girl still apply in college. Acne, drama, hormones, self-esteem problems, and all manner of boy insecurities continue to progress. You just learn sneakier ways to deal with them.

• I know your parents and your grandparents and your uncles and aunts and neighbors all met their spouse while they were in college. Get over it.

• In desperate cases, there will ALWAYS be someone in your hall with chocolate and a copy of 27 Dresses.

• Make friends with the library. It loves you.

• Make friends with people who are smarter than you. They might not love you, but it's okay to be a little selfish.

• You can't get away with not studying for tests anymore.

• This is the weirdest for me: you can actually go over two days without showering.

• Even if you can't shower, you should still wash your face. It fools you into thinking you're clean.

• Post meaningless quotes by obscure famous people to make yourself feel better every once in a while.

I believe that is it. I would love to expand this if you happen to have any questions.

"Man must have just enough faith in himself to have adventures, and just enough doubt in himself to enjoy them." G. K. Chesterton

fin.

Some people really should regret what they did for love.

Recently, I've complained a little about the fact that I have nothing to inspire any of these lengthy derogations.
Actually I haven't. You have.
That still doesn't mean I had anything else to write about. And if it makes you feel better, I think I started about three posts while I was on break, and they all ended up pretty stupid because I had no idea how to write them.
...this still isn't my fault.
It's YOUR fault because you guys are so darn sweet and make me feel like in response to all the positive feedback I have to write six posts a week. Shame. On. You.
But thankfully I've returned to my lovely existence of education, and have been searching high and low for something to mock shamelessly, and still, nothing, nothing, nothing, and then I searched far and wide, and blahh, blahh, blahh, and then I went to my classes, and then I ate the cafeteria food (we almost had something there), and over all of the campus, there was nothing to be found that was suitable; alas, none struck that resonant chord of bloggability, and I returned to my dorm, forlorn* and disappointed* and empty-handed**.

*not really.
**I think I was holding a sandwich.

We would still be in this state if it weren't for my darling roommate, Miranda, who was sitting in her bunk when I returned. Seeing my dejection, she gazed across the three feet of floor that separated us and offered eight beautiful words, full of hope for me and for you and for all the world of blogdom:


"Hey, do you want to watch 'The Bachelor'?"

...hello!

So for those of you who either spend your time wisely or haven't been on the continent for longer than three weeks, I will briefly explain what this phenomenon is.
"The Bachelor" is a television show which endorses the great American dream of encouraging diverse and accomplished individuals who all are looking for something more in life to put themselves on the line in order to find it while everyone sits back and laughs at their pain and failure. Which is basically what happens. 25 girls show up at a fancy house, all to find love, and slowly, through process of elimination and several high-powered fog machines, one is eventually selected for a romantic life of bliss and happiness until a highly publicized divorce comes three months later.

It gets better.

I assume most of you are familiar with the other American dream of videotaping "catfights" everytime you're within a three mile radius of one. This ideal is quite transformative and captures the heart of many, specifically high schoolers and TV producers. Because of that, not only do you get to see the intensely personal conversations, the sweet dates, and even the heartbreaking goodbyes, but you also get to see the girls all fighting and screaming and clawing and saying horrible things to each other. (Not swearing. They bleep out the swearing.) And I didn't even include the crying. There's lots of crying.

But WAIT. I don't think even you were expecting this:
Not only are these women putting their hearts out where everyone can see them, saying all manner of nasty things about people that they just met, living with those same people for months on end (they drink a lot of alcohol in this show), and letting cameramen record it for hundreds of millions of strangers who can't even remember their names to watch EVERY MONDAY ON PRIMETIME...

...they're all dating the same guy.
And all of them know that. So all of them kiss him, and hold hands with him, and snuggle with him, and whisper sweet nothings to him, in front of each other. They're publicizing their own powerful story of greatness and romance for all the world to see,
AND HE'S CHEATING ON ALL OF THEM.

The only thing that could possibly make this better is if it was a documentary.

OH WAIT.

If there's anything better than dating shows, it's psychos being interviewed about meaningful subjects.

I will admit that I approved of (as in, I would let my brother date) a few of them. Maybe two. No. One. Kacie B, from Tennessee, who was basically the only real person on there. (Yes. As opposed to fake people. The rest of them were fake people.) And I don't know if you've watched people's reactions around you, but when she got sent home a few weeks ago, the show's Facebook page was covered with:

"ben i hate you go *3#@&*"
"she was too good for you what's your problem"
"Kacie, honey, don't be sad. You've got way more going for you."
(nice people comments...smh)

But still...I felt a blow to normal women everywhere. Kacie B. was a baller.
I am glad he let her go though, because (expert opinion) they really weren't good for each other. Especially in comparison to the girl he ended up with.

Her name is Courtney.
My cousin's name is Courtney

That doesn't matter.
She's a model. A good one. From New York. She's very focused on her career, but is taking time off to look for love. And she's determined to find it. Just like everyone else on the show.
Except she has no brain.
Or morals for that matter...but...it IS the Bachelor.

Anyway. For those who didn't watch the show, I felt like I'd include a couple highlights and sign off, because this post isn't really going anywhere. I also throw in some clues to allude to the reasoning behind Ben's final decision.

So the whole things starts. Bachelor Ben is standing in a suit in front of the house and all these chicks get out of a limo to come kick it with him. One rides a horse so he gives her a flower. (I forgot. Roses are a life. Getting one is like running over a mushroom in Mario Kart.) One brings her grandma. That was weird. But they all hang out and then everyone thinks these two girls are all...yeah they basically make out. Um. Courtney shows up and Ben says she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Clue #1. Jenna cries the whole time. No one knows why.

They go on a bunch of dates. Kacie B. and Ben go on some excursion where they end up  crying because they actually had a good conversation. Courtney and Ben go on a date where they make out. Clue #2. The rest of them go on a date where they put on a play for these kids in a community center. It basically turns out to be a strip show about farm animals. One of them says it was the first time she's ever been attracted to a sheep.

That's the only complete sentence I remember from the entire season.

All of them progressively get dumped. Some of them get to do crazy things like climb bridges and go on boats and ride horses and get in good life experiences before their worlds come crashing down. Lots more of them cry. All of them fall in love...all of them are "blindsided." Fighting fighting fighting. Hatred. Death. And then once they're all dumped, they're all magically friends.

Somewhere in there, Courtney manages to reject friendly gestures and make rude comments all over the world. (Literally. They got to Switzerland before she apologized.) A bunch of them tell Ben that she's a horrible person. He dumps them.
I think it's also worth mentioning that she calls Blakely a stripper and then manages to take her clothes off at every opportunity.
It didn't make sense to me either. Also, clue #3.

Kacie B. gets dumped and cries a lot, and every woman in America suddenly realizes how ugly Ben is.

Ben gets down to the final two, saying that he's in love with both of them, even though everyone knows he's going to pick Courtney. And now they're engaged. Which is probably a good thing, because no one would have competed if Courtney was the new Bachelorette. And I heartily approve of couples dating when they're composed of two people I hate.

If this makes no sense to you, don't worry about it. Odds are they've been split up for months.

Thank you and have a nice night.

Lost in translation.

This doesn't need a lot of introduction.
I'll still write one. Um. First of all,

MAY I JUST SAY THIS TOOK SO FRIGGIN' LONG TO WRITE. AND I DELETED HALF OF IT AND HAD TO WRITE IT AGAIN. AND I HAD TO CHANGE THE SPACING. THREE TIMES.

Secondly, I know a lot of things I say when I get home sound kind of weird, because my family doesn't speak what's known as "college lingo." (It's actually not known as that at all.) And truth be told, there's a lot of underlying subtleties in the things we say and the phrases we just throw around, and for the benefit of those who were in college "back when dinosaurs roamed the earth,"
(can I just say something? Yes I can. It's my blog. I know all adults use that phrase for the sake of being funny and relating themselves to younger people, and I'm sure it was funny a long time ago, but...no. I'm sorry if I sound like a jerk; I just think it would be way cooler if you would actually call us whippersnappers like you're supposed to. Okay. I'm done. Not really. I still have a whole post left.) 
I composed a comprehensive...ish...list of those easily misinterpreted statements for the sake of the generation gap or some fluffy world peace situation.
I also would like to say thank you to my roommates and friends that I texted for ideas. You guys rock my world.
Enjoy.

The Big Fat College Dictionary of Common Phrases and Their Implications and Why We Use Them*.
*(probably overactive hormones)


Baller
-individual; either extremely classy or ridiculously loaded.

Can You Save Me A Seat In Chapel?
-I’m testing our friendship. 

Cafeteria Food
-most likely the same thing it was yesterday. 

Curfew
-meaning unknown. 

Correcting An Essay
-writing an essay for someone else. 

Don't Tell Anyone
-their roommates will know by the end of the week. 

DTR
-define the relationship.
-the only reason a boy and a girl could ever sit on a bench together. 

Fifteen Minutes
-the allotted amount of time between you waking up and your class on the other campus starting. 

Fifteen Page Paper
-due tomorrow.
-you haven’t started.
-neither has anyone else in your class.

French Fries
-dinner.

Girl to Guy Ratio
-number of eligible bachelors, likelihood of finding love, how many other women you have to kill off in order to put the odds in your favor, etc. 

Good Night’s Sleep
-I took a nap yesterday. 

Hit Me Up
-send me an electronic form of communication.
-I am willing to bet money no one over the age of 25 knew what that meant and until right now thought it was dirty.

Honors Program
-people who got the same grades and did the same things as you in high school taking basically the same classes, but with bragging rights and professors with cooler names.

How Many Units Are You Taking?
-how much better am I than you? 

I Still Have Homework
-it’s probably midnight.
-see Story of My Life.

Just Friends
(this is a tricky one)
-JUST FRIENDS. 

I Have A Car
-by default, I have more friends than you. 

Lab
-suck.

Lab Partner
-your new best friend who might spill hydrochloric acid on you. 

Library
-where you go when you’re better than your friends. 

Like Your Prof?
-how is sucking up working for you?
-see Prof.

Mother
-the only person you text anymore.

MRS Degree
-judgmental slang for a young woman who wants to find a husband in college, often used as a way of making yourself feel better for not having a boyfriend.
-MRS = Mrs. For those of you who no comprendo. See also Ring By Spring.

Naps
-a source of infinite delight.

 Nuff Said.
-I’m too cool to say more. 

Pedestrian
-someone who walks across the street in front of cars, at least twenty feet away from a crosswalk, with no respect for law, safety, or dignity.

Pre-Med/Pre-Law
-THESE ARE NOT MAJORS. THEY ARE A LIST OF PREREQUISITE CLASSES NEEDED TO GET INTO SELECTIVE GRADUATE SCHOOLS. NOT MAJORS. NOT. MAJORS.

Prof
-professor of lazy students.

Ring By Spring
-graduating with a brain and a hubby.
-what your parents did.
-what your parents tell you not to worry about.

Roofing
-climbing on roofs.
-climbing on rooves.

Roommate
-extra source of laundry money. 

Story Of My Life
-something idiots say when they relate to each other.

Swag
-meaning uncertain, but I have it.


Totes Dorbs
-a phrase meaning, “I think I’m just as cute as the thing I’m describing, but I’m wrong.” 

Totes Presh
-see Totes Dorbs.

Tuition Money
-your Christmas present.

Transportation
-your feet.
-a trolley.
-a scooter. (hipster definition)
-a longboard. (surfer definition)

Two Minutes
-what you thought was ten minutes in high school. 

Urge To Liturge
-a strong desire to attend a more traditional form of chapel. (phrase coined by my particular university)

Walk Of Shame
-anything attempted after tripping in public.
-apparently this definition was not enough for some of my readers who don't go to my school. In their context, "walk of shame" can also refer to the exit of another dorm room, usually after significant amounts of alcohol have induced inappropriate or unrememberable behavior.

What’s Good Tonight?
-are we partying later, or can I stay home and nap?


What’s Your Major?
-can we actually be friends?

Writing An Essay
-Facebooking, texting, skyping, emailing, planning out your schedule for the next seven semesters, taking a shower, and dropping out.

Yeah You Are!
-vague encouragement.

--------------------------------------------

I thought I'd include some major-related stereotypes as well and in the process insult everyone I know.

Applied Health major
-ex-biology major.

Art Major
-has all the talents you wish you had, but is certifiably crazy.

Biology Major
-pariah.

Biochemistry Major
-snobby biology major.

Business Major
-anyone who actually got a relevant job after graduating.

Chemistry Major
-we have those?

Christian Ministries Major
-social work major for Jesus.

Communications Major
-the brunt of the humor.

Computer Science Major
-0100010 0111000 010 11110.

English Major
-my friend's mom calls them unemployment collectors.

Film Major
-hipster.

Foreign Language Major
-missionary kid.

Global Studies Major
-who knows?

History Major
-your future professor.

Liberal Studies Major
-MRS degree.

Math Major
-cooler than you expected.

Music Major
-incredibly stressed out person.

Nursing Major
-those people in scrubs that no one actually knows.

Philosophy Major
-whoever you want them to be.

Physics Major
-what you expected the math majors to be like.

Political Science Major
-future presidents and burger flippers united.

Psychology Major
-everyone else.

Social Work Major
-nice person.

Sociology Major
-someone who is studying sociology.

Theater Major
-no comment.

Not so feliz, but still from the bottom of my heart.

First, I would like to say HAAAAPPY UNOFFENSIVE HOLIDAYS!!!! to my six followers. 
Second, I would like to say MERRRYYY EVEN MORE UNNOFFENSIVE CHRISTMAKKANUQUANZA to everybody else who happens upon this.
Thirdly. I wrote a poem. And I hate it. But because I'm kind of in a mood (define that how you may), I decided to publish it anyway. It probably will depress you. But part of it is funny. You could just skip the end. The end is the sad part (it always is). I'm sorry if my attempts at depth and thought-provokingness are boring. I don't plan on doing it again. I just...ahhh who knows. It was supposed to be perky and uplifting but my brain wouldn't WRITE a perky and uplifting ending. So this happened.
Also if you see any lines that strike you as something fancy and poetic and mystical...that was an accident.
I'll probably offend people.
What's new.

--

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the stores,
The stresses were building under pressures galore.
There were dinners to buy and cookies to bake,
Not to mention the Christmas pictures left to take.
As the countdown continued, ten days became four,
And the shoppers were shopping and shopping some more!

The kids wrote their lists in unreadable fonts
To convey to their mothers what presents they'd want.
That commercial had yellow robots that had guns,
But if she got a blue one, they wouldn't have fun.
The jackets they wanted had to be Tony Hawk,
And terror would reign if she got them all SOCKS... (old joke)

The TV's were streaming from morning to night,
Their HD screens gleaming with goodness and light.

Just kidding.

Commercials poured out of the out-of-date speakers,
Saying to them, "Get new ones! And maybe some sneakers!
Buy video games full of violence and blood!
That's a good way to spend a day based on love!"
And the kids all said, "Ooohhhh," and their brains (which were rotted)
Told them, "That's what you need!" So their moms went and got it.

Meanwhile, back at the house, I was home with my mama,
Exhausted from finals and college's drama.
"What should I buy you for Christmas?" she said.
But I had no visions that danced in my head.
I thought of ideas, but they wouldn't form.
(My brain wasn't rotted. It was back in my dorm.)

So she made me explore, despite my contentment,
For she thought I'd be bummed out with only two presents.
On an outing last Wednesday, with Deb and my car,
I attempted to shop, but I didn't get far.
We ventured back home without losing much time,
For the outing, I fear, was less than sublime.

...let me explain.

The plazas I frequent have many good stores.
That's why I frequent them. That's what they're for.
But though I drive well, and there was enough room,
The parking, I found, was a gauntlet of doom.
And the faces I saw glaring down with great gall,
Left me wondering who really likes Christmas at all.

However. Today I went walking outside
On a simple excursion to see Christmas lights.
I saw families with babies and couples with wrinkles,
And friends taking pictures by blankets of twinkles.
There were trumpeters playing all sorts of sweet tunes,
And I saw fake snow fall in a night with no moon.

"This is Christmas," I thought, and I walked to a stand
Where I sought some hot cocoa to warm up my hands.
My friend spotted me with some cash, cuz I'm broke,
And our drinks were bestowed upon our chilly throats.
As we left, they called out, "Thank you for your donation!
It goes to support the Make a Wish foundation!"

...dang.

There are children in hospitals, sick as can be,
With just as much hope as we have Christmas glee.
In the midst of the decking the halls and the holly,
Is it too much to ask to PRETEND to be jolly?
What happened to "No matter what, you say 'Thank you,'"
And "Don't throw a fit; you're a brat, and I'll spank you"?

The Christmas-y joy I was hoping to know,
Is melting to puddles, as if it was snow.
Grandmas I imagined so rosy and sweet,
Almost crushed my front headlight on their way to the street.
Maybe you're stressed. You're grumpy. You're fill-in-your-answer.
There's a lot you must handle.

But you still don't have cancer.

(the end.)


Again, I don't like getting deep on here; it's kind of where I go to make fun of things that bother me, but...this bothered me...and I kind of made fun of it...and then I also felt like pointing out that I hate hate hate cancer. So yes.

And for those in our lives that are afflicted with cancer, then my prayer is that they especially have a Merry Christmas.
I think it's safe to assume it's yours too.

In honor of everyone who knows what SATB stands for.

So I know all of you have been rabidly hungering for another of my riveting displays of wittiness, but alas, these lovely strings of works have been far out of reach over the past...very long time. So to all my beautiful readers (all five of you) you must know this: it is quite difficult to just whip one of these up out of nowhere, and that in order for this whipping up of these to occur, an event consisting of acceptable magnitude, humor, and not-being-difficult-to-criticize-ness also has to occur within a time period of, at most, 48 hours beforehand. And the whipping up must take an extensive time of intense care in my work, even more intense editing, about an hour of fearing my composition's inadequacy, and then a few seconds of concern for the feelings of people I probably offended (actually that only refers to my last blog post, which I'm not even really sorry for) before I can muster up the courage to finally log in and post it.

And sometimes I forget my password, which slows the production chain down a bit.

Also, I've been sick, and I have a lot of homework and tests and Christmas concerts and rehearsals for Christmas concerts and practicing music for Christmas concerts and OF COURSE running through the venue during a cue to cue of the Christmas concerts without falling and breaking my nose. And for the sake of those readers who are my mother, let me just say that I also locked myself out of my room, which has all of my books I need to study inside of it, which is why I am writing this. Not that I really need to study because she did such a wonderful job homeschooling me.

I love you.

So speaking of Christmas concerts, I have one this weekend, and the people in charge have almost sold out two shows. That's 9000 people who are PAYING to see a lot of college kids execute the musical phenomenon that is choreography, also known as the flailing of the arms to a rhythm. It is also possible that they will hear us sing, if we can force down our coughs for long enough. Some of us also get to hold plastic candles. That should be a real treat.

But being completely honest, I really enjoy Christmas concerts. You can learn a lot from them. For instance, there are about a hundred and twelve different ways to express the birth of the Messiah. "The first noel the angel did say!" "Lo how a rose e'er blooming!" "De virgin Mary had a baby boy!" "You'll go down in history, like Columbus!" They are also good ways to reconnect with your family without having to spend gas money. (And by that I mean your gas money. They should be happy to blow theirs on something other than your tuition.) The best part about Christmas concerts, though, is when they're over, and you can put another notch in your belt of how many Christmas concerts you've sung in. It gives you a lot more prestige in the wonderful world of choir and such.

Which brings me to this. Today I realized, while trying to write a facebook status,

[DISCLAIMER. Facebook statuses take up way too much of my life. They are not merely an expression of "what's on my mind," but a measurement of my social life. And my standards are way too high. For example, if a status does not have at least ten "likes," reread and consider deletion. I have a problem.

DISCLAIMER FOR THE DISCLAIMER: I've already blogged about this.]

that even though there are a lot of things that bother me about choir, and it goes against many aspects of my personality and is honestly something really random for a biology major to be involved in, it has become so integrated and fused to my being that not being stressed over a Christmas conert is more unnatural than becoming sick because of one. I've been in choir for about six years, if you don't count singing in little baby choir when I was...a little baby. Which is why I have compiled this list (we're just getting to the list NOW?! That's one heck of an introduction!!) of things that I have discovered during my first year of college choir. Oddly enough, you might recognize some of them, and should probably be embarrassed if you do. Well. Maybe. It might just be me.

YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN IN CHOIR TOO LONG IF...

1. You're learning your fourth arrangement of a song.
This summer, I got a batch of music and voice parts, and I realized that not only did I already know one of the pieces, but I knew other versions of it as well. I'm actually not sure why I found that strange. Maybe because I had never really considered the idea that being in a musical group for all of middle school and part of high school could actually be pertinent to my undergraduate choral adventures. Or maybe I was bothered by the song the first time and was wondering why directors liked it so much. It's called "How Can I Keep from Singing," and with a few years of experience under the right conditions, the answer to that question will become very clear to you.

2. You know the song already, but not the voice part.
This happens most often during Handel's (in)famous "Hallelujah Chorus." I hear worried people all the time saying, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT PART TO SING BECAUSE LAST YEAR I LEARNED THE SOPRANO BUT NOW I'M AN ALTO AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO BECAUSE THIS SONG SAYS THE SAME THING 80 TIMES SO I DIDN'T LEARN IT THE FIRST TIME ANYWAY." And I concur! The best approach is just to pick a part and sing it, no matter where your director puts you, because it will be different every year. Which brings me to my next point...

3. You don't know what voice part you are.*
This is actually the opposite of what you might think. You would guess that someone with 6+ years of experience would be able to say something like, "Oh yeah, I'm a baritone." But you, in fact, are wrong. The ranges of different voice parts actually overlap enough that you can be put one above or below pretty easily. So using math, I can say that since the more recent voice parts I've sung were Soprano 2 and Alto 2, I'm probably an Alto 1. But a lot of people think I'm a soprano. And I could probably carry a tenor part if the planet was counting on me to release it from some sort of music-depraved tyranny. So there's really no way of telling.

Sometimes, during my junior year in high school, I snuck over to the other side of the class where the altos sat and sang their part instead.

4. You know jokes about other voice parts. Or just sopranos.
What's the difference between a soprano and an alto?

An alto can read music.

What's the difference between a soprano and a howler monkey?

Lipstick.

What's a soprano's best excuse for escaping an awkward conversation?

Vocal rest. (That one I made up, but it's actually true.)

5. You've used vocal rest as an excuse to escape an awkward conversation.
And now you can never use it again.

6. You've walked into a concert venue panicking because you're late, and suddenly realized that this isn't the first panic attack you've had in this hallway.
This is a semi-creepy way of saying you've used the same location for a concert before and didn't realize it until being smacked in the face by deja vu. Which is actually what happened to me today, and inspired this post. Basically, after running back and forth through the same hall trying to figure out how the HECK to get onto the balcony, I realized, not only did I know how to get onto the balcony, but I probably knew the building better than 85% of the people there. And every other building around. I'd eaten in some of them, slept in some of them, changed in some of them, and sung in most of them. It's a weird feeling, walking past a bathroom that looks oddly familiar and thinking, "Hey... I peed in there!"
 
7. Guys in tuxes don't phase you.
There comes a point after being around guys in collared shirts and ties for days and then guys in coat tails and cummerbunds for days and even guys in snazzy gray suits with purple ties (which definitely takes the cake in the awesome choir outfit category) that even if a guy has his bow tie straight, is working his tux like nobody's business, and is holding himself with a poise that matches and even surpasses the intensity and class of the outfit he's wearing...

...no one cares.

8. You refuse to sing the melody.
If you hear a song on the radio you know, harmonize. If you hear a song on the radio you don't know, harmonize. If you sing a song in church and you absolutely must, sing the octave. No...actually that's no good either; try a third above. Singing the melody is not just the easy way out. It's sign of weakness.

9. Your current choir director's wife was your director's accompanist in eighth grade, you sit with their daughter, who was also in your choir in eighth grade, in chemistry, and almost all your male friends are in your brother choir, which is under the direction of your high school choir director's choir director, because you randomly ended up going to the same college as he did.

And you're not even a music major.

*voice parts for the musically uneducated:
Soprano 1- squeaky high women's part
Soprano 2- moderately high women's part
Alto 1- every Disney princess, ever.
Alto 2- manly women's part.
Tenor 1- really manly women's part, or sometimes men.
Tenor 2- normal famous person's range.
Baritone- indecisive man's part.
Bass- people who talk so low you can't even understand them.

Let's get together, yeah yeah STOP.

One of my friends told me a while back that my blog was my form of release, and that I shouldn't be ashamed of it. Another friend told me today that they missed my posts and wanted to hear more. And in a couple weeks, my theology professor will probably tell me that I could have done way better on my midterm. But there are a couple of things I need to address.

First of all, I think it's absolutely ridiculous that I've been in college almost two months and people are already in relationships and planning marriage. We're eighteen years old--still drastically hormonal--how are we supposed to be making these decisions already?! We are like heroic baby lizards, slowly emerging from underneath a big rock of refuge, surveying the desert landscape for the first time, warming up under the hot sun, hearing the far off cries of predatory eagles and embarking on our first searches for oblivious crunchy insects! We have no time to go lay eggs! What are you thinking!?

Secondly, aside from that one time I explained God using clams, that was probably the best analogy I've ever come up with.

Dating stresses me out. Not that I've ever done it. That might actually be why it stresses me out. I think people just make this huge deal about it and then complain about not having boyfriends and then go and get boyfriends when they could be doing way better things than dating boyfriends. Like writing a blog. Without a boyfriend. And not caring about boyfriends. And not even thinking about boyfriends. Or wondering why they've never had a boyfriend. Ever. Ever ever ever ever. But I prefer the approach of learning valuable life skills, like........

1. Typing with a box of Wheat Thins on your head. Actually the box is empty. But I'm really good at it. Not that this is about me.

2. Whistling. It's not as widespread a talent as you think. Someone's bound to be super jell.

3. Develop a hypothetical writing style, such as talking about yourself being single without letting on that it's actually about you.

4. Catching the Wheat Thins box when it falls off of your head.

The possibilities are really quite endless.

But being completely honest, the whole "GET A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" mentality is not just taking up emotional energy and depriving us of valuable life-skill-developing time. It's affecting the social environment.
(WARNING: Author develops bad mood right about...now.)
The girls I knew in high school were giddy and nervous and at the most maybe a wee bit conniving when Sadie Hawkins rolled around. Now that I'm in college and have encountered older and more experienced young women, I don't even know why we have a Sadie's anymore, because I feel like setting wolverines loose on the campus would end up being less destructive, and might even save money.

The state of females that I will be encountering in the next few weeks makes me worried. I have rubbed my temples nervously, sighed heavily and facepalmed abundantly already. Sure, there are some chill girls who are kind of half and half on the whole thing. And there are girls who are already dating people and are by default not involved in this nonsense. And though to some the "ring by spring" mentality may be a bother, it really only freaks me out about how old I am. What disturbs me (and quite honestly, makes me want to throw chairs out of windows) are the girls who say "OH MY GOSH. 'Ring by spring' is sooooooo needy. I'm so above that. I don't need or want a husband right now because I have so much stuff in my life I need to get in order and I want to start a career and become a feminist and travel and blah blah blah!!" *triumphant stance* And if you think that, then I respect you. And I support you. And I will believe you, once you stop making eyes and hitting on and desperately clinging to every guy you've spoken to since you got here. Seriously, at least the "needy" ones are being honest.

aslgha;elifjcalenalkgalkdfngrk.


I don't know how to finish this with dignity. So I won't try, and I'll just finish with this. To my homegirls who are feeling lonesome and who are wondering why things are the way they are: being single is secretly really cool. You have better things to do while you wait. When I see you, I see a person who has dignity and self-respect. Which is quite a feat, because, a lot of girls are ranked in my brain right now under "angry pterodactyl." Don't hate on your life because all your friends have/have had boyfriends and you don't/never have had/think you will become a cat lady. Cats are super awesome.
And so are you.