Why the USPS is dumb

So I'm supposed to be getting rent checks from tenants who aren't living on site right now and they haven't come through. Fearing it may be due to my change of address (I literally just moved down the hall from one apartment to another) I decided maybe I should do a forward address thing on the US Post Office's website so I could actually receive mail.

I filled out all the lines on the online form and was about to submit it when the last page told me it would cost $9.99 for the post office to "handle the change." Also my debit card had to be billed to either my old address or my new address, otherwise the card would be declined for me doing something fraudulent. This angered me for several reasons.

1) I'm pretty sure that my debit card is "billed" (because debit cards don't have bills) to my parents' house, which is technically still my permanent residence. I could change this, except the last time I checked, TCF Bank doesn't recognize that I have an actual account with them because I have this weird debit card program through the University and my card actually expires when I graduate so I should probably look into getting a different card... The point is, the USPS fails to take into account the weird living situations of college students. Which is kind of annoying.

2) I am not changing the billing address for my debit card for 12 months when there probably isn't any actual mail to forward and whatever I was supposed to get probably just got lost because -

3) The post office sucks. Really. WHO CHARGES 10 BUCKS FOR A CHANGE OF ADDRESS? "We need ten dollars to process your change." Really, do you? REALLY? Isn't dealing with change just what the post office is supposed to do on its own? People move! It happens!

So, US Post Office, I am not giving you $10 because I moved one unit over and I have a different mail box. If I don't get my Minnesota Opera updates, oh well. If there's anything else important I'm supposed to get, hopefully you will realize that I am still in this building and, though the apartment number is different, it should still be delivered here. Or just give it to 202. The girl living next door is very nice and I'm sure she won't mind giving me my mail. But for the love of God, please deliver the checks. They've been resent to my new address and I still haven't gotten them.

Screw you, USPS. Screw you.

Google is intent on turning me into a creep, or: Ooh boy... this is worse than I thought...

Apparently if you Google "Benedict Cumberbatch about future wife" this blog is a possible result (thank you, Stats info on Blogger, for showing me search results that led to my blog and thus leading to this awkward realization).

I'm not exactly sure how to feel about this... Confused? Slightly flattered? Disturbed? (Oh yeah, definitely disturbed). And yet...

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Yeah... that pretty much sums it up. Except for Brad Pitt's bloody nose; actually, the bloody nose is possibly accurate (considering I feel like punching myself in the face. How did I let my fangirling come to this? How? HOW? I'M NOT EVEN THAT MUCH OF A FANGIRL! THE POST IT LINKS TO IS HARDLY EVEN RELEVANT! I HAVE GOT TO STOP EXPRESSING MY INTENSE EMOTIONS THROUGH THE POWER OF CAPS LOCKS!)

I apologize for the weirdness. It's a Tuesday; what can I say?

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Stronger

This week has been a busy (and unexpectedly dramatic) week in apartment management. I attended the housing fair (on the correct day this time) and got at least six people to give me their info to schedule a tour. However, [Львица] and I have been trying to find someone to move into our apartment in June so I can move in next door and the girl living there doesn't have to worry about subletting. But it's been hard to find two people who want to sublet so early, so we wondered if it might be easier for Britney, the girl who lives in the apartment I'm planning on moving into next year, to find a short-term subletter.

Except that, suddenly, it's not okay to sublet for less than three months in the building; they look for long-term leasing so they don't have high turnover. Which makes sense... but that was NOT what we were told upon filling out the lease. And that's not what any of the other tenants were told by the previous building manager either. So now we have that tricky little issue.

Our boss and building owner had decided to make an exception in order to let someone lease short-term, but before this [Львица] and I were both certain he alluded to giving me another apartment, not the one I wanted. I was unsure how this would solve any problems, but I'm certain that's what he said on the phone the other night. Not that it matters here; there are some battles I can't win and trying to justify myself and show that I am not in the wrong will solve nothing; it is not the point and it doesn't matter here. Unfortunately for me, I have a long history of hating any situation that makes me feel wronged and blamed when I feel I don't deserve to (something I deeply have in common with the protagonist of Jane Eyre) and it's been hard for me to see this situation clearly. However, this situation came up the other night and our boss took offense and [Львица] had to work herself out of a very awkward situation. Every time I think I've gotten better at communication and I think I'm good at what I'm doing, the stark reality of how much work it takes to attain good communication hits me.

http://www.examiner.com/

But instead of focusing out how far I've got to go, I'd rather commend myself for how far I've come. Yes, I could communicate better with my boss. But this is the first real job I've had, I've never met him or spoken with him face-to-face, and sometimes it's hard to express what [Львица] and I have discussed to our boss with just one of us trying to summarize. And given my history of introversion, slight social anxiety, and loathing of talking on phones (which has all but dissipated this year), I'm pretty goddamn pleased with myself. I have become a stronger person - in words, in actions, in many things. And for that, well, I'm quite happy.

Of course, I still have ways to grow and change (who doesn't?) and I'll harbor regrets about not being afraid to speak up sooner. Maybe it was because of Catholic school, maybe it was just who I was or what I was taught when I was young, but arguing with authority is something I had to learn myself, something I never saw accepted or allowed. If it weren't for [Львица] and, oddly enough, my father's new outspokenness about politics, and the fact that I've allowed myself to get really pissed off about some things, I might have never learned to speak my mind. I regret not doing it more in the past; I'll always wish I had spoken up in my high school Biology class when my teacher said that it was possible for AIDS to be passed through kissing which was SO WRONG, instead of just fuming about it later; I should have stood up and TOLD HIM he was wrong.

But the environment and person I was in high school was far, far different from where I find myself now. In college, there's a sense of freedom that I often take for granted. In college, you can break some of the rules. In high school, rules are the only structure there is to cling to.

Not that college is anywhere near perfect. [Львица]'s English class this semester has exemplified over and over again how easy it is for someone to take away the ability of expression (even when they think they are actually opening doors wider when in actuality they are slamming them shut). But I'm infinitely grateful for those who have allowed and encouraged me to speak out; the only thing I have too keep fighting for is the belief that I have the right to do so and that I deserve it. It's not always an easy feat; but I'm working on it. :)

Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl, Part 2

As I was saying, something happened the other day. I became suddenly aware - and obsessed - with a new celebrity.

In case you haven't noticed by his sudden appearance/mention on this blog, it's Benedict Cumberbatch.

Yes, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, poor, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, who has girls declaring themselves to be his future wife because he, unlike so many celebrities fangirls pine over, IS UNMARRIED.

Not that it stops fangirls from obsessing over married celebrities but, you know, the potentiality of this situation not ending tears is slightly less from the fangirl perspective. Here's how it reads to them:

He's not married! He's so talented! He's so handsome - and those cheekbones! And that voice!* If I could meet him - it'd be perfect!

*They always mention his cheekbones. And his voice. Yes, I did bring up his voice before - he sounds like he could be related to Alan Rickman and it's fucking brilliant. But the repetition of the cheekbones thing... yes, he has a very nice facial structure. But talking about slicing tomatoes with his cheekbones... too far, girls. Way too far... 

I had some variation of this thought the other day (minus the cheekbone bit). Part of it ended up in my Sherlock post, as you might have noticed. Which was nothing abnormal - I talk about celebrities. A LOT (and dammit, he DOES have a fabulous name). But I found myself realizing I'd latched on to this fangirl idea of getting married to a celeb. And I freaked.

Okay, a brief history of me as a tween. I began my earliest fangirling when The Lord of the Rings movies came out (Aragorn all the way, baby). And I went pretty hardcore when Gerard Butler played Erik in The Phantom of the Opera. However, I was fourteen, and had absolutely no interest in dating anyone, no matter how wonderful and famous they were. Because I was fourteen and really yet unaware about life in general. Point is, I was not like other teenage girls who were buying shirts that said, "Mrs. Pitt" and "Mrs. Affleck" from Claire's and convinced that somehow, despite the thousands of girls who were wearing those shirts, they were all going to end up married to said celebrities. Even at the age of fourteen, I thought this was baloney.

So somehow, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one, I've regressed immensely, to a prior state I was never actually at (well, there was a sort of similar instance where for a few days I thought I might actually get an acceptance letter to Hogwarts, but that didn't last too long for me. I wasn't feeling too secure about my studious nature at the time).

Here's probably how it happened: I'm on Tumblr, ensconced amongst all these photos of celebrities, and suddenly I start seeing all these posts about peeps being fanatic about their favorite celebrities. It starts to look normal to me, and I find myself slipping in and doing the same thing. I found who Benedict Cumberbatch was in part BECAUSE OF Tumblr. But here's where it went different, where it didn't morph into a previous favorite actor obsession: the first thing that really caught my attention wasn't just a photo; it was a quote from some article where Cumberbatch - according to a Tumblr user quoting the article ("I saw it on the internet, it's definitely true.") - said that his biggest regret was not having kids by the age of 32.

Whomp. Just like that I was suddenly, emotionally attached to a man I've never met. This is not unusual - this has happened a bajillion times. What WAS different was how I reacted to it, that I didn't just care that he was attractive and intelligent and talented; no, I also cared about his emotional well-being on a level I can honestly say I've never reached before for a person I've never met, never seen in person, never in lived in the same country as. That was warning sign number 1.

Warning sign number 2 was spending more time on Tumblr than on anything else - even my fictional writing. Not because I talk to people on there (I really don't; I don't get how that works with just an ask box and a bunch of photos). No, it was because I wanted to see all of these new photos of my new favorite actor and share in the experience of people knowing who he is. And slowly, I realized I was getting jealous of the other people out there who I once sympathized with; where once I felt we bonded, I suddenly felt jealous of; as if they were trying to prove themselves a better fan than me. Big old warning sign number 3.

And then yesterday, I was on Tumblr and I saw this gif set I'd seen before: Cumberbatch dancing to "Thriller" at a party. Only there were a bunch of comments talking about how it had been stolen from a Facebook profile and that it was not meant to be shown to the public. Tumblr people were asking for it to be deleted and not reblogged and to address whoever had originally posted it it. But it was too late. I was incredibly creeped out.

I began wondering... How may of these other photos out there are NOT supposed to be released to the Internet? And not just for Cumberbatch - for Michael Fassbender, David Tennant, etc. etc. etc. What do these guys actually think of their fans? I mean, I want to be a famous writer - how would I feel if people posted this sort of stuff about me? (Freaked. Totally freaked. I'd appreciate it at first but then once I started seeing stuff about me everywhere, I'd totally flip out.) So why would we treat actors any different than we'd treat ourselves?

Because we idolize them. Honestly, if I met one of the actors I've mentioned, I have no idea how I'd react. I can't truly imagine it. Well, I mean I do imagine it but it's not authentic. In my mind, I'm all cool and collected. In reality, I'd probably be having a fit and pass out or just be too nervous to even say anything.

So there's this conundrum here - the want to treat actors like you would anyone else (because, after all, that's probably what they want and if you want hang out with an actor, you don't want to be the crazy one who's built a shrine out of printer paper and teacups in your room), but also the need to respect them, to express your admiration (which then gets totally carried away here). And you get stuck in fangirling.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Well, fangirling is easier than some other options. Let me explain:

1) As I've mentioned before, it's less riskier than actually getting involved in relationships. Here, the only person who can break your heart is reality - and even that can be eluded for an extended period of time.You keep telling yourself that anything is possible and that you could totally wind up marrying someone famous someday. And you keep those voices in your head telling you you're just being silly silent a while longer.

2) It's easier to let it go than fight it, especially if you're in school. I mean, I sat through 30 plus minutes today in a lecture, discussing the flaws in an experiment. 70% of the things students said were confounds WEREN'T and we spent forever discussing why so. Unfortunately for me, I get this stuff within the first five minutes. And for some inexplicable reason, even as a junior, college is boring for me. So I spend the rest of class bored out of my mind and daydreaming, wishing for an escape. It's no wonder that I want to be swept off my feet by some dashing actor.

3) In relation to the first point, there's this predominate feeling that a lot of these fangirls don't have boyfriends and can't get boyfriends, for whatever reasons. Boys ignore them, they get "friend zoned," they just have bad luck... you get the idea. You know my story. So, it's like this decision that since they can't get a normal guy, they might as well reach for the stars and dream of something impossible.

This all sounds rather sad and disturbing and disheartening, I know. I'm sure all fangirls aren't this way, but the more time I spend on Tumblr, the more I see girls like this. It makes me realize that this part of myself - this repression of obsessing with actors, inability to get a normal boyfriend, dreaming of perfection - isn't as abnormal as I'd thought. But now this powerful, potent release is no longer comforting. It's terrifying. I'm no longer alone, but I still feel the urge to run away from myself. I hate myself for acting this way. But I just feel more insecure, more trapped by my own life - trapped by school, trapped by circumstances, trapped by things I have to do but don't want to - and I'm back to wanting to escape as I was before.

And as much as daydreaming can be fun and wonderful, it can also be dangerous. You've got a good picture of why. My friend [X] once said that most of her life is lived in her head, which I found profoundly sad. Not having actual actions, just dreaming out what you want to do rather than actually being able to do it. While the importance of imagination is great, its power can go too far.

Perhaps my want for action is what made this situation different. I had the sudden urge to meet Mister Cumberbatch. Okay, obviously fan girls want to meet all of their favorite celebrities. I want to meet John Barrowman, but more out of a "wow, we'd be great friends; I feel like I already know him" vein. This current case is markedly different. This is more like, "Hey, I know nothing about him, but I feel like I understand him better than anyone else." Which is totally weird. And probably what 80% of other fan girls feel. So tough shit for me.

However, also in combination with this is the whole issue with photos and videos being released that aren't supposed to be, in which I feel the desire to prove that not all fans are not so incredibly creepy. Which is impossible to do while feeling like a creep. So of course I found myself trying to not be creepy, to try to be a fan without being totally mental about it - an elegant, mature adult who just happens to fancy an actor. While all the time, in the back of my mind, I'm trying to figure out how I could get to London and "stumble across" Cumberbatch during the Olympics or something as equally absurd (because, you know, out of 7 million people there plus however many millions will attend the Olympics, I'm going to be able to find ANYONE). It's a like a constant battle, trying to not feel like a tween about this (it's interesting that all the imagery about fangirling comes from young girls. But that's a topic for another time). And now all this self-reflection, and reflecting upon reflection, is a bit much. I've just got a whole lot of words on a page and no clear idea of where to go from here. All I know is that I want to be recognized for who I am, not a mindless, faceless fanatic. So I'm limiting my time on Tumblr, reminding myself that actors or people to (unlike what Max Bialystok might say in The Producers), and that I am young and naive and very good at being both things and that I might as well accept that I'm going to do stupid stuff. But the least I can do is limit the embarrassment I cause for myself and for others. Because these actors I adore so much deserve better than... whatever this attempt at explanation and apologizing this is. Sorry, great thespians, and, while I won't pretend that you're reading this, I extend an apologia for this league of fangirls. And an extra expression of regret to the fine Mr. Cumberbatch as the unknowing example in this RIDICULOUSLY LONG post (many apologies, dear sir... you've been dragged into the realm of cultural theorizing.). And since this really is an on-going tale and I've no idea how to close this, I'm just going to stop... right... here.

Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl

I am in denial that this semester is happening. Really. I just remembered today that I have an essay due in my Comedy class (which sounds like a lot more fun than it actually is) next Thursday. And I have a test on Monday in Research Methods. And I have to find research articles for my Research Methods paper. And I have to accept myself that I'm back in school and that, yes, once again, I have found myself swamped with work and sick and living half of my life in mental fantasies that will never, ever happen - this week's includes John Barrowman singing Cole Porter and Benedict Cumberbatch reading great English literature to me while I curl up all warm and cozy on the couch, sneezing (elegantly and lady-like, as if such sort of sneezing was possible) and drinking Earl Grey tea. Like I said, totally impossible. The best I can do is hole up in Espresso Royale between classes and drink Spanish Lattes and read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Charlotte Bronte and try not to panic over having absolutely no control over this semester. And life in general.

I mean, where the hell is this year going? It just started and already we're in the first full week of February! I'm sitting here, with a watch around my neck, and time's all just ticking by me. It's kind of unnerving.

Oh, and I think I got Mo, [Львица]'s cat, sick. I know that diseases aren't supposed to transfer from human to cat, but Mo slept on my bed last night and it was fantastic and comforting, but now she's sneezing. I just feel like everything I'm trying to do to make things easier for myself backfires.

Like writing this blog. I should totally be doing some homework, or essay writing, or research planning, or internship hunting. But I just can't make myself care about those things right now. I need to stop working for a few minutes, to breathe and relax and tell myself I'm not going to break down (and all in the back of my head, I'm thinking about all the stuff we're talking about in my classes, about how the Industrial Revolution has made us all machine-like and it's freaking me out). I go on Tumblr to chill out and see fun pix of my favorite shows and movies, but instead I just get visually attacked by totally beautiful European men - okay, okay British and a couple Irish men, you win, [Львица] - (Barrowman, Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Colin Firth, Martin Freeman, James McAvoy, the list continues and seems to grow everyday...) and I feel stalker-ish and, well, for lack of a better word, weird.

Let me set this up for you: I have this absurd desire to be famous. Wow, okay, who doesn't, right? Actually, I never used to care about that sort of thing (well, maybe I did, but I'd convinced myself otherwise). Then something happened - A) I realized that 75% of the people I knew in high school didn't know who I was,* B) I wasn't going to be able to me a music teacher and change lives in a small, sweet way like Mr. Holland, and C) If I couldn't do what I originally planned, then dammit I might was well go big and become the next big American writer. Or some shit like that. And people were finally going to appreciate me and care and it didn't matter that most of my teachers couldn't remember my name and I never got asked to Homecoming or Prom and that one little asshole in my AP Psych class insinuated that I'd never get married. No, none of that would matter when I could roll up to our high school reunion as a fucking millionaire and a best-selling author. And that the fact that they never thought I was cool was an utterly moot point. This is not original. I know. But it's how I've felt since graduation, and it's how I still feel now.

* I'll never forget the time [Broadway Baby] was trying to convince me that people liked me and he asked this guy named Sam who was walking by, "Hey, Sam, do you like [La Maga]?" To which he replied, "Who's [La Maga]?" I'm pretty sure this was a common reaction for most people. Even in my graduating class (which had around 400 people, mind you. My school had 2000 students, so maybe I should stop whining and be glad anyone knew me at all).

So I have an obsession with fame. How American. In turn, I have an obsession with famous people (which I have discussed multitudes of times and will continue to discuss, because I'm a CSCL major and that's what we do. And I just have a lot of feelings). I also have an unfortunate trend of thinking that actors who happen to play my favorite characters or characters I grow to love, who are very handsome/charming/dashing, and say something that I happen to agree with are suddenly the EXACT MAN I AM LOOKING FOR IN MY LIFE. I am not alone in this happening - I see it all across Tumblr. Which is a great sort of, "Hey, look, I'm not alone!" tool - which is nice for the first few weeks. But then you - okay, I - started to get creeped out. Because it's just SO MUCH FANGIRLING.

I can understand a little bit. Okay, John Barrowman is one gorgeous man - I have stated that far too much on this blog. In fact, I had a page in which to try to focus some of the fangirling so as not to make a bunch of nonsense posts. But then I looked at it today and thought it was creepy. So sadly, it is no more. You're welcome, John Barrowman. Not that you read this. Unless you do...

See? See what I did there? FANGIRLS THINK THIS ALL THE TIME. They think that their favorite celebrity is secretly reading their blogs. They think that for some reason, Mr. Famous Talented Handsome Celebrity will swoop down from his very busy, hectic life into their very dull, mundane ones and sweep them off their feet to some exquisite life full of roses and awards shows and awesomeness. I am not making fun of fangirls out of spite. Because I find myself wishing for these same things.

And you know another thing that's stupid? Oscar Season and Valentine's Day - two things that should NOT be this close together. For the sake of the fangirls, it's very, very dangerous. I was wondering if anyone's ever tried to crash the Oscars in order to see their favorite actor (probably yes. I feel like it'd be pretty easy - get a nice dress, tell them you're a Baldwin, you're in). Also, Valentine's Day produces a deep melancholia for most people who are of the single state. Which only doubles the power of the fangirl obsession.

I could very easily let myself continue down this path of constantly blogging photos of celebrities I have crushes on and flipping out over them and being totally obsessive, like a little kid watching a puppy in a shop window (wow, nice self-depreciating imagery there, right? Demeaning actors into puppy-like images. I can't decide if that's truthful or too harsh a way of describing this phenomenon). But the other day, something happened. Maybe it's because I'm tired of feeling stuck between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Maybe it's because my mind is being enlightened because of my On Television class. Maybe it's because my fangirling went to a whole new level.

Regardless, this the longest blog I've written this year. But it's a bit too long. So I'm going to continue this in part two. Readers beware.

Why I Sucked At Being a Teenager

Somewhere, upstairs, God is laughing at me.

He has a right too. My exploits Friday night seem more like the plot of a teen comedy or an SNL skit than ordinary life. But it happened... oh, how it happened.

[mind ninja] decided to host a drinking game party at her house after the success of our holiday party. Originally, we were going to have her house to ourselves (her parents were going to be out of town for a hockey tournament) and she planned on playing a drinking game to Lord of the Rings. Except nothing went as planned.

[mind ninja]'s family didn't leave town - the hockey tournament got cancelled - and in fact, they ended up hosting a pizza dinner for the hockey team, who didn't leave until around 9 pm. [mind ninja] hadn't gotten the alcohol and wanted [foxy lady] or me to get it. But both of our IDs were invalid because we hadn't gotten the chance to update them since our birthdays were only a month and half or so past. Just as well - it's one thing getting alcohol for my own party. It feels wrong to buy it for someone else's. I just didn't feel comfortable doing it - but I didn't want to say that to [mind ninja]. It seemed like betrayal.

Mostly, though, I was peeved at the United States government. Seriously, I bought alcohol in a grocery store in St. Andrews, Scotland. I was able to bring it back in my luggage. But I can't buy one single drink in an American liquor store because I didn't request to have my ID updated three weeks before my birthday (because, apparently, you can do that, which I did not know. Nor does the Minnesota State driving guide book give any such helpful tips). So, American youths about to turn 21 - your ID expires DAY OF your birthday, apparently. You can still buy drinks with it (and confuse bartenders who can do math) but you can't buy anything from a liquor store. Sad day for me, walking into a liquor store for the first time without my parents and leaving empty handed and feeling like I'm about twelve. Fuck you, United States drinking laws - I behaved myself all those years and can count on one hand the number of times I drank under the age limit. And this is how you reward me. Thanks. See if I ever take your laws seriously again. (Just kidding, US Gov't... I have no plans on becoming a criminal or a traitor. Please don't put me on the no-fly list).

[mind ninja] and [Львица] were able to convince [novel killer]'s parents to buy alcohol after our epic fail. We ended up with way too much for the small group we had and somehow managed to sneak it into the house. I felt giddy about it, like a rebel, doing something dangerous (despite the fact that I was drinking legally). It was probably an experience many people my age had five or six years ago, back when they were still in high school. And I was just now experiencing it - as a legal drinker. When most kids were drinking in high school, I was staying at home, reading Jane Eyre, and watching The Daily Show. When they were having their first experiences being drunk, I was going to the movies, staying home with my parents and learning about my dad's experiences as a bartender. And while they drove home drunk in the wee hours of the morning, I was sleeping. I've never have been much of a night owl.

Even the Gleeks have party hard in high school... and they're supposed to be the un-coolest people in school (which reminds, me, I should blog about Glee). Not that I should be comparing my life to fictional TV, but this stung a bit. Apparently, I am so uncool the uncool people think I'm uncool. Think about it...

And now, it's not so much like I'm trying to play catch-up; I don't care about not having those experiences. Not exactly that I don't care but that I just had no desire to do that sort of stuff in high school and that not experiencing it was, well, no terrible loss. It's just that now, now that my friends and I want to have a party with drinks, now that we feel like it's something we're comfortable with, now that we're practically legal or are legal, it feels weird being in these situations. Wondering how the hell sixteen year olds got alcohol when we can't even buy it when we're 21. Trying to fathom how they got a whole case of beer in the house with no one noticing. Wondering how they actually felt like getting drunk because, after all that work, we all only had about one to three drinks apiece.

http://www.cartoonstock.com

Oh, things I missed being a non-stereotypical sort of teenager... I don't regret it, I don't miss not having these experiences. It just leave a whole lot of things to be wondered for me. Also I never got invited to parties... so, yeah. There's that. Personally, I think having these firsts now is incredibly more entertaining for myself. I'm more comfortable with who I am, I'm more ready to try new things. I'm doing it because I want to do it - not because of peer pressure, or to fit in, or anything. And there's that added benefit of comedic tension at out attempts to have these experiences now. Now that we're the anomalies for not doing this years ago.

Really, it's not so much that I sucked at being a teenager. I just sucked at living up to the stereotypes of the American teenager - which is a rebellion in itself, isn't it?

Ooh, we've got a badass over here... :P

The Party

It's been a rough start to the New Year, what with the wisdom teeth removal and all. So by the time our  friends' holiday party rolled around on Wednesday, the one that caused all the trouble before the semester ended, I was kind of worried about it. I mean, any of a number of things could have gone wrong.

Amazingly, nothing did. [Львица] and I decorated our apartment rather majestically, I think, even giving Mo the cat a little pink bow. We cooked for half the day (wondrous Alaskan salmon and halibut, and chicken broccoli alfredo for those peculiar people who don't like fish) and had ample time left to set up ambiance music, rearrange chairs, and mock our friends for not being on time.

Things were perhaps a little hard to ease into at first, with offering drinks and trying to get people to decide whether they were hungry or not (our friends are historically indecisive). But once dinner had been served and drinks refilled and Secret Santa gifts were opened, things began to feel much more comfortable and relaxed to me. I was fortunate enough to have [shortage of perfect breasts] as my Secret Santa, the only other person there, other than [Львица], who could possibly know about or understand my obsession with Torchwood. So I was blown away by and totally grateful for her gift - a downloaded and burned DVD of Friday Night Project hosted by John Barrowman, and a home-knitted pillow (made by [shortage of perfect breasts] herself) with the Torchwood logo on one side and my first initial on the other. It's the best Secret Santa gift I've ever gotten. I wish I knew how to show her how thankful I am, without seeming ridiculous. It's a rather wibbly-wobbly line, that.


I managed to talk to [X] and [novel killer] without any apparent weirdness (but by that time, I'd already several drinks). I assured [X] that I was totally over [No-Mr-Darcy] and she informed me that it was just as well, as he believes that a woman's place is in the kitchen (it, of course, no longer matters, if he really thinks that, but it's just as well things didn't work out because, if it's true, I probably would have beaten him up). I tried tequila - bizarre, not my favorite, but not bad. I felt closer to my friends then than I had in years. I suddenly had high, high hopes that I was going to be able to move on from all of the things that had been bothering me about my friendships, that if we'd been able to hang on this long, that maybe we could forge ahead into the future. That even thought sometimes we have our issues, that they treat me better and understand me more than the rest of the world. There wasn't any peer pressure to drink and I didn't drink too much and I felt comfortably tipsy. All was good.

Perhaps I was seeing the world through rosy-colored lenses (or maybe liquor-tinted ones. I did have two glasses of wine, a Guinness, a shot of tequila, and a Heineken. Far more than I have ever drunk before - and yet I wasn't drunk; have I inherited my father's liver?) Everything seemed beautiful and I had no worries. I felt beautiful, important; nothing hurt.

I wish all nights could be like this one; I know they can't - later in the week would prove this true. But this night - this one night - made me feel better than I had in days. Maybe weeks. It didn't last but it's a positive sign for me - a sign that when I finally get those cruel little voices in my head to shut up, life is good. No negative self-thoughts - that was a New Year's resolution, after all :)

A Christmas Carol (and money murmurings)

Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.

That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.

http://freethoughtblogs.com

This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...

Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).

But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.

I'm not feeling any wiser...

I have about a million posts I was hoping to write this week, but no such luck. I got my wisdom teeth removed yesterday and now my jaw is aching, oozing and just generally making my life miserable. Yay. So, hopefully in the next few days I will feel less like a crummy blob of injured tissue and will be able to return to my jovial blogging self.

But we'll see... Meanwhile, enjoy this photo. It's not me, but totally how I looked and felt yesterday. Stupid useless wisdom teeth...

http://2.bp.blogspot.com

The Joy of Finals

Yep. That time of year. My biggest accomplishment has involved developing how Leopold from Kate and Leopold could aid capitalism. And making this photo:

Right now I have to drive myself partially insane studying for an evil psych exam. So enjoy this in my absence.

Strength

http://www.paulina.ws/

So [Львица] stayed up late last night, having a conversation about how I was feeling in regards to the situation with [X]. She told me to stop beating myself up and blaming myself for things. Along with many other genius thing, which I will attempt to briefly reiterate here.

Like how people who used to be shy (I am certianly one of those) aren't used to no one liking you; we're afraid of making enemies when it's time to say our own opinion. It's why [X] is afraid to say her opinions, afraid of what it's going to be like. Because she doesn't want to lose people. And it's the same for me.

But we're going to lose people. We're going to make mistakes. That's why regret exists in the world. We have to fight. Because it's sadder to let someone win without a fight

There is something to be learned from how [novel killer] acts - she doesn't concede. I wouldn't want to be that extreme (especially in light of recent events). But she at least what she gets what she needs to say out there. Otherwise, as [Львица] it's like a film on top of the water, with people not saying everything they want to say.

"I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did," [Львица] told me. She described to me how we're a lot of different people in our lives and, as we grow up, we have to let one go and it's like grieving for a person who's died. We have a fantasy of ourselves in our heads, a fantasy that [Львица] said she lived for eight years of who she could be. Yet she never touched who she was - she had no real idea. She was a soul untouched and the time to find out who she was had arrived. She likened it to idealizations of love - how after you really fall in love, you read books and hear music in a different way. You can think about what it will be like, but you won't really know until you know.

There's a barrier between us - a barrier of time and life. But you have to press up against the glass, to make it your own words, to make it your own.

http://tuttoinbiancoenero.tumblr.com

So it was with these thoughts that I started today. And started it very well, I might add. Until the shit hit the fan once more. [novel killer] has sent me a message about doing Secret Santa for the Christmas part and I told her this:

I think [X] is still in charge of Secret Santa, actually. [Львица] and I weren't planning on doing it.

And then she said:

All right. She said you wanted to be in charge, so I figured I'd ask.


And then I said:

Well, we just offered to let her have the party here and she misinterpreted it as us wanting to take over the party; we just wanted to offer our apartment as a venue. Sorry for the confusion
.

And then it ended up at this from [novel killer]:

Stop stop stop. No. [X] informed me last night that you had messaged her asking if it was okay if you did, and said said it was fine if you did, but she'd be upset about it but if some something she had to work out by herself. That would be you wanted to take over the party. Which is fine, there's nothing wrong with it, so that's why I asked you this. And yes, she was upset, but it was more of because she'd been doing it for years.



Frankly I think everyone needs to get over their hatred for the little stuff. It's stupid. Everything's not about you (as in individuals). It's about together. [X] being upset about losing control is not about you wanting to take it over, it's symbolic of the fact that the times have changed and she's trying to deal with it. It's Christmas. I don't need this, no one needs this. I have familial stuff going on right now that's going to be a huge sour note during Christmas, so the last thing I want it to have a petty party with friends that I won't enjoy the company of because they're all being petty. And it's not just you. You'll probably take it that way and tell [Львица] and then people will hate me, but whatever. Just try to remember the things people do usually have nothing to do with you as a person. (That goes for everyone.) I would give everyone this speech, but unfortunately you're the message I got this morning and therefore you get the brunt of it.



I know you're not very happy with [X] for whatever reason, but you know what? Whatever it is, I guarantee it's a stupid reason. I don't even know what it is, but I know it's stupid. So you know what? Get over it. Everyone should get over their stupid things with each other and move on. Why? Not because it's Christmas. Not because we want to be the bigger person. Why? Because we're friends. And good friends should love near-conditionally. {I think she means non-conditionally.} Because people fuck up, and your friends are supposed to forgive you for it. Like if I yelled at you for an hour because I was so angry from outside sources and your little thing happened to be the thing that set me off? As a friend, I would expect you to forgive me without be having to say anything once we cooled down. Because that's what friends do. And we were great friends. Unfortunately college has separated us. And now we're not during the year, but we still should have that bond. And if we don't, why are we having Christmas with one another? Because if we're not friends enough to forgive each other of expressing opinion and not get catty and guilt-trippy, then we shouldn't have Christmas at all.



And that's the reason I haven't even posted on the Christmas thread yet. I wanted to see how this played out. And I hope my friends prove me wrong, but we'll have to see.



Also, thanks for completely ignoring [musical queen]. (note the sarcasm). I know she can be a handful, but she is our friend, and either you or [Львица], since you decided the date seeing as it's your place, could've politely told her that you can't have the party when she's in town because of [Львица] not being in town.



Anyway, I hope you give this some thought instead of taking it as [La Maga]-bashing and hate me forever instead of something our entire group needs to work on. (Except for maybe [foxy lady], and ha, ironically [musical queen] who has never passed judgement on any of you because she genuinely likes you.)


Needless to say, this kind of tore me up when I saw it. Okay, that's a lie. IT FUCKING DEVASTATED ME. This isn't the first time something like this had happened between [novel killer] and me though. She sent me a really terrible message on Facebook back in my freshman year, one that made me hate myself so much I actually toyed with the thought the thought of jumping of the Washington Avenue bridge because I felt like entire world loathed my guts. I don't think [novel killer] realizes how much power her words have - especially over me.

We didn't exclude [musical queen] from party plans - [Львица] talked to her separately. As for the rest of it... I don't know. She clearly blames me for everything that happened here - and then some. A lot of it doesn't make sense. How can she say my problems are just stupid without even knowing what they are? How can I non-conditionally care about a person when they write poisonous things like this and don't seem really reciprocate that? Why is okay for people to take out their cathartic problems on me but when I actually have a problem, it's stupid?

Beats me. I think it's crap. Really, I do. Despite how shitty I felt during social psych (which was ironically about female aggression, in which we discussed Mean Girls - which I'd actually just seen) I was feeling much less shitty and blame-worthy. I'm not gonna take it, dammit. I have feelings - I have rights. I am my own woman. And though I did what she expected I would - I showed it to [Львица], I don't hate her as a person. I hate some of the things she does but I don't hate HER. I'm just worried about her. Because this and what she was telling [Львица] isn't healthy. There's a lot of hate built up there and I'm worried for her.

Good thing is, I talked with [X] tonight and straightened some things out. We're back on friendly terms and I feel like we could be moving to a much stronger, healthier relationship. I hope so at least. And the funny thing about anger - once you get an apology, you can't remember why you were mad in the first place. This new bridge into... wherever....It's not going to be easy, but I'm going to stick to my guns. I'm going to find out what's going on with [novel killer] and I'm going to keep working to be the strong, fabulous woman I know I can be. I've seen it. I can do it.

I'm worth it. :)

FIAT, parte due

Okay, you should probs watch this video, if not to see an awesome car, then to hear a sweet remix of a Vivaldi Concerto by the Glitch Mob. It's pretty much the greatest thing I've seen today (other than the A I got on my Italian test which I took with a 101 degree fever).

FIAT

Remember how I said driving sucks and that I don't really care about it?

This changes everything.

Meet the Fiat 500 - bigger and better efficiency than the SmartCar. Cheaper than the Mini-Cooper. The ORIGINAL Italian Job vehicle. And a more attractive styling of the VW Beetle shape.

Needless to say, I WANT IT :)

Hot Rod

Take a look at this car and tell me why it's exceptional:

http://btfo.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/wgmb1.jpg

Okay, other than the fact it's a Mercedes... IT'S A WHITE GOLD PLATED MERCEDES. Owned by Abu Dhabi billionaire.

I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO FATHOM THE COST.

I mean, really, I loathe spending a hundred dollars on a text book and this car must be a gazillion times that. Is it even drivable? I mean, I can't see someone driving it -

Hold on, I'm gonna be sick from the sheer opulent, wasteful, unusefulness of this.

Weird-ass Twenty-something

I had a weird conjunction of phone calls made today. It started with a call from Allstate, trying to get me to get auto insurance for my vehicle. First problem: I don't own a car. They said that wasn't an issue though, and that I could use it for whatever other cars I might be driving, using, etc. I said that I just don't drive that much right now but I'd keep it in mind. Which subtly hides the second problem: I don't have a driver's license. 

It isn't exactly from lack of trying, I did take the road test before I started college and failed marvelously. I planned on taking it again this summer, but really didn't spend any time behind the wheel, and so cancelled the test knowing I would just fail it again anyway. I'm not particularly a good drive, I don't particularly care, and I don't particularly LIKE driving. It's okay when I'm driving through the country to [uber gay] or [it's a twins thing]'s houses. But considering I35 goes right through my hometown, I HAVE to know how to drive on the interstate if I want to get anywhere quickly. And I hate the interstate. So, I have procrastinated to the point where it almost doesn't make sense for me to get my license anymore. I live in the city, I can take the bus, I can bike, I can walk. I save gas money and gas in general (more for those douchebaggy Hummer drivers to use instead). I love Mini-Coopers and Smart Cars, but those are the only cars I can picture myself driving. Sort of. And I don't even want one THAT bad. It'd be more for a fun factor than I actually WANT to be driving. I fear I have turned into some weird hipster that just refuses to conform and drive like a normal human being. People judge me for it and it's REALLY awkward to admit. But really, when did society decide that EVERYONE has to drive, hmm? Why do I HAVE to? What about people who can't drive - like the blind or the epileptic? Is it really that big of a deal? (Yes, it probably is, but I'm a cultural studies nerd, so thus I'm skeptical of anything that's supposed to "normal")

I admit, this isn't "normal" for a traditional twenty-something. But neither is buying tickets to the opera- another feat I undertook. I'm going to see Silent Night at the Minnesota Opera in November  on it's opening night. Is that impressive? Actually, yeah, it is - it's a brand new opera and it's opening night will be the WORLD PREMIERE. Considering there's only three new operas premiering this year in the United States, this is kind of a big deal. People from all over the world are flying in to see it. And I'm gonna be there. She who has only seen one opera in her life (Romeo and Juliet and I was so tired by the end of it because it was on a school night in high school that I can't even remember at all enjoying myself). She who knows very little about the structure of opera except for what I've gleaned from taking Italian, too many band classes and The Phantom of the Opera. Actually, I probably know more than I think I do. But something in me years to be part of the opera crowd, to attend some art form that isn't appreciated as much anymore, that only a small elite groups belongs to.

I am such an elitist. But it's another life tile to have under my belt. And a perfect opportunity to push my culture vulture attitude to the limits. Will I enjoy the opera? We'll have to see; Romeo and Juliet was a bit too... French for me, I guess. I'd really like to see an Italian opera, but that's just probably not going to happen this year. But I am SUPER excited to see this. I loved the movie, so I'm hoping for awesomeness in this staging.

So there you go - pondering on opera and my lack of driving. What a way to start the weekend.