Okay.
Confession time.
I don't have a topic planned for this write (Whoops).
Usually, I'll think of an awesome topic to write about before I blog. Sometimes it takes a while to think of a good one, and sometimes it comes easier.
But today, I'm saying "screw you" to the system and just winging it, which is something that I rarely do in my life. I always have to have a plan. Always have to think about every little detail before I do anything.
Hanging out?
Who's gonna be there?
What time?
Where at?
Do I really want to hang out with these people?
Yes.
No.
Ehh...what else am I gonna do tonight?
Okay, should I be on time?
What if so-and-so is there?
On top of that, I over-think absolutely everything.
She wants to hang out.
Just me and her?
Does that mean anything?
Should I make a move?
Probably not.
Wait, what if that's what she wants?
What if I make a move and get denied? That'll just ruin everything. Friendship over.
Anyways, I'm not sure if I'm going off on rant, but the point is:
I need to let go and just wing it sometimes.
Take risks.
Make the move.
Stop planning out every detail that won't matter in 2 hours.
I just need to relax. Stop worrying. Yes, that is definitely easier said than done, but I gotta work at it. I'll eventually go crazy if nothing is done.
So we'll see where this goes.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Go Places
So I had this awesome plan.
To blog while on the plane to Hawaii (I'm in Hawaii if you didn't know).
I got my laptop out, all ready to go, feeling good about the words that were about to be typed, when a huge wave of exhaustion hit me.
Side Note: I woke up at 5 in the morning after going to bed at 1. Whoops.
So suffice to say, the awesome blog I had planned did not happen, so now you're stuck with this last minute decision of a blog that might not live up to your expectations. It's still about my flight, so if that's what you really want to hear about, you're in luck.
Okay. This prologue is done.
Why is it that parents take their newborns on airplanes?
Oh you just had a baby? Shouldn't you be at home with it instead of bringing it on a flying, metal death trap?
No? You're just gonna let it cry the whole flight? Okay. Awesome...
Babies were crying during my flight, I'm not sure if you caught that. If I had to guess, there were at least 16 babies on board. Probably more like 2, but it felt like 16. With each new cry that came out, I grew more and more frustrated. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. I'll play peek-a-boo all day long, I don't care. But when they start to scream bloody murder...I'm gone. And when you're in an airplane, there is no escape. All hope is lost. You just have to sit there and hope that it goes away, which it eventually did, and I went back to thinking they were little angels.
Also.
Snack boxes saved the day.
Thank you, United Airlines.
You.
Rock.
I was close to starving (most likely a lie) when Matt noticed that snack boxes were being sold.
Goldfish?
Oreos?
Jelly Beans?
Salami?
Crackers?
Yes. It had them all, and I have never been so thankful for a cardboard box in my whole life.
Overall, pretty good flight.
Read some Scott Pilgrim.
Watched Flight of the Concords (Never realized how amazing that show was and am now planning on buying all of the seasons).
Slept instead of writing.
And now the fun begins. A week in Hawaii with some friends and one sister, and I cannot be more stoked. This summer is really looking to be the best yet.
To blog while on the plane to Hawaii (I'm in Hawaii if you didn't know).
I got my laptop out, all ready to go, feeling good about the words that were about to be typed, when a huge wave of exhaustion hit me.
Side Note: I woke up at 5 in the morning after going to bed at 1. Whoops.
So suffice to say, the awesome blog I had planned did not happen, so now you're stuck with this last minute decision of a blog that might not live up to your expectations. It's still about my flight, so if that's what you really want to hear about, you're in luck.
Okay. This prologue is done.
Why is it that parents take their newborns on airplanes?
Oh you just had a baby? Shouldn't you be at home with it instead of bringing it on a flying, metal death trap?
No? You're just gonna let it cry the whole flight? Okay. Awesome...
Babies were crying during my flight, I'm not sure if you caught that. If I had to guess, there were at least 16 babies on board. Probably more like 2, but it felt like 16. With each new cry that came out, I grew more and more frustrated. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. I'll play peek-a-boo all day long, I don't care. But when they start to scream bloody murder...I'm gone. And when you're in an airplane, there is no escape. All hope is lost. You just have to sit there and hope that it goes away, which it eventually did, and I went back to thinking they were little angels.
Also.
Snack boxes saved the day.
Thank you, United Airlines.
You.
Rock.
I was close to starving (most likely a lie) when Matt noticed that snack boxes were being sold.
Goldfish?
Oreos?
Jelly Beans?
Salami?
Crackers?
Yes. It had them all, and I have never been so thankful for a cardboard box in my whole life.
Overall, pretty good flight.
Read some Scott Pilgrim.
Watched Flight of the Concords (Never realized how amazing that show was and am now planning on buying all of the seasons).
Slept instead of writing.
And now the fun begins. A week in Hawaii with some friends and one sister, and I cannot be more stoked. This summer is really looking to be the best yet.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
I'm Ready, I Am
I most likely shouldn't be writing this.
It's 3 A.M. and I'm not entirely sure if my renewed energy is actually from me being awake, or if it's from me being so tired I feel like I'm more awake than I am.
Either way, this is happening so we'll see how it goes.
Why is it that whenever you're far away from a problem, it feels like it doesn't matter as much? We kind of loosen our responsibility a bit, don't we? It's as if the problem doesn't really exist if you're hours away from it. Now, this could be freeing and stress-relieving, but is it really that good to be shunning you're worries?
I think any sane person would say no. Yeah, it's great to be carefree and not have to deal with anything, but we all know that those papers still have to be filed when you sit down at your desk the next morning (I am really proud of this metaphor...just thought you should know). We all know that even if you're far away from your dilemma, it still exists. You still have to come back to it.
That's a little how I feel.
I was at school, not really having to deal with much except for studying and all that good stuff, but I knew what was waiting for me back home.
Job hunting.
Family drama.
Friend drama.
It was nice to push it all away for a while, but the reality is that you can never really get rid of the things that stress you out the most. Well okay, there's probably a few exceptions, but you can never get rid of the important things that stress you out. I wouldn't be stressed if I didn't care about each of these (maybe the job thing is a little less important than family/friends), and I'm realizing that I can't ditch my responsibilities anymore.
I need to be there for my family and friends. I need to stress about is so I can figure out how I can be the best person I can be in each of these situations. I need to figure out how to overcome the obstacles so I don't get so frustrated.
Being home, back to face everything that I've been running from, has been a good lesson in responsibility. I might not like what I'm learning all the time, but it's something that I need to do.
It's 3 A.M. and I'm not entirely sure if my renewed energy is actually from me being awake, or if it's from me being so tired I feel like I'm more awake than I am.
Either way, this is happening so we'll see how it goes.
Why is it that whenever you're far away from a problem, it feels like it doesn't matter as much? We kind of loosen our responsibility a bit, don't we? It's as if the problem doesn't really exist if you're hours away from it. Now, this could be freeing and stress-relieving, but is it really that good to be shunning you're worries?
I think any sane person would say no. Yeah, it's great to be carefree and not have to deal with anything, but we all know that those papers still have to be filed when you sit down at your desk the next morning (I am really proud of this metaphor...just thought you should know). We all know that even if you're far away from your dilemma, it still exists. You still have to come back to it.
That's a little how I feel.
I was at school, not really having to deal with much except for studying and all that good stuff, but I knew what was waiting for me back home.
Job hunting.
Family drama.
Friend drama.
It was nice to push it all away for a while, but the reality is that you can never really get rid of the things that stress you out the most. Well okay, there's probably a few exceptions, but you can never get rid of the important things that stress you out. I wouldn't be stressed if I didn't care about each of these (maybe the job thing is a little less important than family/friends), and I'm realizing that I can't ditch my responsibilities anymore.
I need to be there for my family and friends. I need to stress about is so I can figure out how I can be the best person I can be in each of these situations. I need to figure out how to overcome the obstacles so I don't get so frustrated.
Being home, back to face everything that I've been running from, has been a good lesson in responsibility. I might not like what I'm learning all the time, but it's something that I need to do.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Guilty Cocker Spaniels
I have a problem.
Not a huge problem.
In fact, it's barely a problem at all. More like a nuisance. An annoying little thing that doesn't really matter, but still gets to me constantly.
I stutter.
Everything is entering my brain so fast and I want to say so many things that it doesn't really come out clearly. It's not extreme, but if you have spent more than 5 minutes with me, you know what I'm talking about. It's a hard thing to describe. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't, but when it does it's a hard thing to get under control. I'll have to stop and collect myself and talk slower or just say something else entirely.
Usually when you think of stuttering, a scrawny, geeky kid comes to mind. A cute girl walks up and asks him a question, only to have his mind explode. He doesn't know what to say, his words don't make sense, and he's probably stuttering a lot.
While my mind doesn't explode into utter nonsense, and it's not the nervousness that triggers it, I do get incredibly embarrassed whenever it happens. When people point it out, I try to act cool about it, but how cool can you really act when all you did is repeat a few words and syllables for a good 30 seconds?
I mean, I can't really help it. All I can really do is talk slower and think more about what I'm gonna say, which never really happens anyway. On occasion I'll take the time to develop my words, but how realistic is that really? I can't just take a few minutes to mull over a response to a question. People would be incredibly bored.
As I've grown up, I've kind of come to accept it. I still get embarrassed when it happens, but I tend to brush it off quicker. It's part of who I am, and it probably won't be going away anytime soon.
I think maybe I'm starting to be okay with it.
I may not be able to stop it, but I can at least deal with it.
That's pretty good progress, right?
Not a huge problem.
In fact, it's barely a problem at all. More like a nuisance. An annoying little thing that doesn't really matter, but still gets to me constantly.
I stutter.
Everything is entering my brain so fast and I want to say so many things that it doesn't really come out clearly. It's not extreme, but if you have spent more than 5 minutes with me, you know what I'm talking about. It's a hard thing to describe. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't, but when it does it's a hard thing to get under control. I'll have to stop and collect myself and talk slower or just say something else entirely.
Usually when you think of stuttering, a scrawny, geeky kid comes to mind. A cute girl walks up and asks him a question, only to have his mind explode. He doesn't know what to say, his words don't make sense, and he's probably stuttering a lot.
While my mind doesn't explode into utter nonsense, and it's not the nervousness that triggers it, I do get incredibly embarrassed whenever it happens. When people point it out, I try to act cool about it, but how cool can you really act when all you did is repeat a few words and syllables for a good 30 seconds?
I mean, I can't really help it. All I can really do is talk slower and think more about what I'm gonna say, which never really happens anyway. On occasion I'll take the time to develop my words, but how realistic is that really? I can't just take a few minutes to mull over a response to a question. People would be incredibly bored.
As I've grown up, I've kind of come to accept it. I still get embarrassed when it happens, but I tend to brush it off quicker. It's part of who I am, and it probably won't be going away anytime soon.
I think maybe I'm starting to be okay with it.
I may not be able to stop it, but I can at least deal with it.
That's pretty good progress, right?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Missed The Boat
Today.
Was.
Epic.
Epic might be a bit much, but I exaggerate a lot so it's gonna stay.
Solid might be a better word.
Fantastic could work too.
Anyways.
It started off with a dentist appointment. Stop scoffing and continue reading because this isn't the epic part. I will say though, that getting your teeth cleaned has to be the most annoying thing in the world. Sorry mom, you do a great job, but sitting in a chair and getting your teeth scraped for half an hour isn't my idea of a good time.
After, me and a couple friends kicked off a day long event of watching all of the Lord of the Rings movies. Yeah, I know, you're green with envy. I mean, come on, who doesn't want to sit in front of the T.V. for hours with little to no contact with the outside world while watching giant eagles be incredibly awesome?
Started at 1.
Ended at Midnight.
Epic.
Longest movies ever though. They're each about three hours. (The actual longest movie ever, according to Kelli Shea's top notch detective skills, is 150 hours long. I don't know who would ever sit through that, but kudos to you if that's your thing)
I've never really felt a sense of accomplishment after watching a film, but count tonight as a first.
I've also never wanted to have a bow more than I do right now, so there's that.
Also.
My room still kind of smells like pizza with a little bit of fart mixed in...so...hopefully that can be resolved in the near future.
Was.
Epic.
Epic might be a bit much, but I exaggerate a lot so it's gonna stay.
Solid might be a better word.
Fantastic could work too.
Anyways.
It started off with a dentist appointment. Stop scoffing and continue reading because this isn't the epic part. I will say though, that getting your teeth cleaned has to be the most annoying thing in the world. Sorry mom, you do a great job, but sitting in a chair and getting your teeth scraped for half an hour isn't my idea of a good time.
After, me and a couple friends kicked off a day long event of watching all of the Lord of the Rings movies. Yeah, I know, you're green with envy. I mean, come on, who doesn't want to sit in front of the T.V. for hours with little to no contact with the outside world while watching giant eagles be incredibly awesome?
Started at 1.
Ended at Midnight.
Epic.
Longest movies ever though. They're each about three hours. (The actual longest movie ever, according to Kelli Shea's top notch detective skills, is 150 hours long. I don't know who would ever sit through that, but kudos to you if that's your thing)
I've never really felt a sense of accomplishment after watching a film, but count tonight as a first.
I've also never wanted to have a bow more than I do right now, so there's that.
Also.
My room still kind of smells like pizza with a little bit of fart mixed in...so...hopefully that can be resolved in the near future.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Transatlanticism
Transatlanticism
n. The state of being in a long-distance relationship with another person over the Atlantic Ocean, for example, with one participant living in the United States and the other living in the United Kingdom, along with the emotions that accompany such a state, such as the desire of physical intimacy, melancholy, and hope.
Thanks Death Cab/Urban Dictionary.
I know it's a little lame to start with a definition, but I'm not sure that there is another word to describe how I'm going to be feeling this summer...but I'll get back to that in a sec.
In 12 hours I will be popping the cap off of my pen to start my last final of Freshman year. Afterwards, it's packing time, and it is incredibly bittersweet. My first year of college is over and I never really expected to have this place become my second home. It's not just a few acres of land with wood, brick, and steel on top of it, and the friends I've made aren't just acquaintances that I'll forget the moment I leave. They're like family, and being hours away from them for a few months is going to suck.
That's where Transatlanticism comes in. Even though we all live in the same country, it's going to feel like there's a body of water separating us. Now that might sound a little over dramatic, but it's really not. After spending months with the same people every day, you get used to having them around. You grow to love their ridiculous laugh, the insanely over-used jokes that somehow become funnier each time you say them, or even the way their hair somehow gets all over you after sitting next to them for a couple of hours. Even with hundreds of miles between us, I know we'll stay close. We'll keep the relationships we built and hopefully they'll become stronger.
All of this might sound a little sad and a bit depressing, but I know that this summer is going to bring a lot of joy. We still have our hometowns to go back to, and with that brings friends we haven't seen in a while, places we haven't been to since we left, and new memories to be made. It's going to be great to be home, but I definitely cannot wait until Sophomore year and everything that will bring.
"When the jets go up and out, will our hearts stay here?"
- Say Anything
I certainly hope so, Max Bemis.*
*Lead singer of Say Anything, for those of you who are musically challenged.
n. The state of being in a long-distance relationship with another person over the Atlantic Ocean, for example, with one participant living in the United States and the other living in the United Kingdom, along with the emotions that accompany such a state, such as the desire of physical intimacy, melancholy, and hope.
Thanks Death Cab/Urban Dictionary.
I know it's a little lame to start with a definition, but I'm not sure that there is another word to describe how I'm going to be feeling this summer...but I'll get back to that in a sec.
In 12 hours I will be popping the cap off of my pen to start my last final of Freshman year. Afterwards, it's packing time, and it is incredibly bittersweet. My first year of college is over and I never really expected to have this place become my second home. It's not just a few acres of land with wood, brick, and steel on top of it, and the friends I've made aren't just acquaintances that I'll forget the moment I leave. They're like family, and being hours away from them for a few months is going to suck.
That's where Transatlanticism comes in. Even though we all live in the same country, it's going to feel like there's a body of water separating us. Now that might sound a little over dramatic, but it's really not. After spending months with the same people every day, you get used to having them around. You grow to love their ridiculous laugh, the insanely over-used jokes that somehow become funnier each time you say them, or even the way their hair somehow gets all over you after sitting next to them for a couple of hours. Even with hundreds of miles between us, I know we'll stay close. We'll keep the relationships we built and hopefully they'll become stronger.
All of this might sound a little sad and a bit depressing, but I know that this summer is going to bring a lot of joy. We still have our hometowns to go back to, and with that brings friends we haven't seen in a while, places we haven't been to since we left, and new memories to be made. It's going to be great to be home, but I definitely cannot wait until Sophomore year and everything that will bring.
"When the jets go up and out, will our hearts stay here?"
- Say Anything
I certainly hope so, Max Bemis.*
*Lead singer of Say Anything, for those of you who are musically challenged.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
You're The Wanker, If Anyone Is
Let me start by saying that I have never broken a bone. Ever. Maybe a couple of jammed fingers here and there but never a break, sprain, or fracture in sight. I was a little proud of the fact that this was the case, but alas, I will forever have to put down a finger whenever someone mentions it during Ten Fingers.
I fractured some small bone in my foot, and it's probably the lamest story ever. It usually goes like this:
"Nick?! What happened?"
"I fractured a bone in my foot."
"Shoot, that totally sucks. How'd it happen?"
"...Umm...Well...I slipped off a curb and landed on the side of my foot."
Laughter/Mocking/Shame Ensues
Usually people have cool stories. Saving a child from a burning building. Defending your girlfriend's honor. Base jumping. Shoot, sports injuries are fine too, but slipping off a curb is not in that cool story category, and I'll just have to live with that. As much as I hate that it happened, I can't really go back in time to fix it so I'll have to deal with the swollen, uncomfortableness that will be around for the next few weeks.
I'd like to be all excited and optimistic about the new opportunities that this could bring, but it's a little hard to do that when you're hobbling around on crutches all day.
Here's to hoping I don't punch small children out of rage.
^Joke...I'm not actually that mad.
I fractured some small bone in my foot, and it's probably the lamest story ever. It usually goes like this:
"Nick?! What happened?"
"I fractured a bone in my foot."
"Shoot, that totally sucks. How'd it happen?"
"...Umm...Well...I slipped off a curb and landed on the side of my foot."
Laughter/Mocking/Shame Ensues
Usually people have cool stories. Saving a child from a burning building. Defending your girlfriend's honor. Base jumping. Shoot, sports injuries are fine too, but slipping off a curb is not in that cool story category, and I'll just have to live with that. As much as I hate that it happened, I can't really go back in time to fix it so I'll have to deal with the swollen, uncomfortableness that will be around for the next few weeks.
I'd like to be all excited and optimistic about the new opportunities that this could bring, but it's a little hard to do that when you're hobbling around on crutches all day.
Here's to hoping I don't punch small children out of rage.
^Joke...I'm not actually that mad.
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