Things that aren't fun in the morning

1. Waking up.
2. Discussions on intense topics, like depression, death or sexual experiences.
3. Shampooing your hair three times because you forgot the second time that you'd already shampooed it, and the third time you thought you picked up the conditioner. But you didn't.
4. Zits in the formation of constellations on your face.
5. Cat hair in your tea.
6. Cat hair in your cereal.
7. Realizing you accidentally bought rice milk instead of soy milk.
8. Surprise! Another student loan you need to start paying off.
9. Bank of America email: Low balance alert
10. Menopausal mothers

Call me Mr. Flintstone

I suppose that when your blog sits idle for so long that you get spam comments in foreign languages, it's time to update. I suppose it also helps that the office is dead because everyone is in Miami, and when you're an intern, you don't get to follow along.
Sometimes it's easy to forget that the people you love the most are beautiful. You know it in the back of your head and in your heart, but it's not in the forefront of your mind. And then something as simple--and, in the grand scheme of things, technologically silly--as a Facebook message reminds you how wonderful someone is. Someone pours their thoughts out, and you realize, oh yeah--they are absolutely beautiful.
I'm realizing that lately I've forsaken things that bring me joy for things that don't matter. Forsaken is a strong word, but I'm referring to the fact that I zone out to crap TV instead of reading. I play on my iPhone instead of going for a run on the beach. And then I have moments where I walk by the cliffs, watch the sunset, and realize I'm still working out who I am. It's so easy to settle into a routine--and for now, that's okay--but I can't keep forgetting to pursue things that make me ultimately me. Some of those things are still up in the air (and winners of Golden Globes), but it's the seeking that is important.
I feel like this is starting to get too reflective and esoteric, so let me just end here.

Cake Mix

Aaaand here I am promoting someone else's blog again:
Cake Wrecks

We have the good:



The bad:



and the ugly/weird/deer in hell:




I went through EVERY post last night instead of sleeping.

It was totally worth it.

Professor Snoodgood

I haven't updated in a while, I know.
School has been busy, and when I have down time, I like to zone out in a book or play Snood on the computer.
Which reminds me, I think Snood causes hallucinations because I see Snoods in front of my eyes when I blink or look in certain directions. Probably not okay.
One of those "isn't life funny" things:
When I try to write "slut" in a text message (of course, I'm not actually using this word in a text. I'm just, uh...remembering how to spell it. Yeah. I would never use language derogatory to women.)
my T9 spells "plut" and then recommends the word "plutocracy."
I feel like there's irony in there somewhere. Maybe something about rich sluts, I don't know.
My first issue of the newspaper came out yesterday morning.
It's pretty scary, realizing I have hard evidence of my status as editor-in-chief. I can't hide now. It's my paper and I have to take responsibility for the good and the bad. And the ugly typos that still get through the editing process.
Anyway, that's all I have to say.

Clever title

I sometimes forget how hard it is for me to be vulnerable.

Today I had a reminder, when I felt like I was prying open my chest, and I was uncomfortably aware of how everything inside it ached and burned and prayed not to be stabbed.
I know it's not easy for anyone, but why is it really hard for me?
It's good, healthy, blah etc blah, to talk about feelings and address issues, but sometimes I can't and don't want to.

I'm starting to feel again, and it's strange and uncomfortable.

Dinosaur Tales

I'm a fan of this music video:




Also, I'm Ray Bradbury's lost soulmate.
I just discovered:
"But as for now I accept the fact, and proclaim it quietly, that without dinosaurs my life would have been nothing at all. Dinosaurs started me on the track to becoming a writer."