2010: A Spatial Odyssey

I'm not going to lie to you, I love you.

You're amazing; You're smart, funny, full of random information, and I know I can count on you.

But sometimes you give me a headache. Sometimes I just want a simple answer, and with you there's no one answer for anything. It's overwhelming, and you often go off on irrelevant tangents. You have a great memory, but I just don't need to know half the stuff you tell me.

You can be malicious at times, too, freaking out and going haywire. I don't know what to do when you get like that. I've had to call in a third party more than once for help with your temper.

And remember when we were in England and tried to download and watch Cloverfield online? That didn't go so well, did it? We broke up for a few months after that. Studying abroad without you around wasn't easy for me, either. I had to lean on the support from my roommates. Did it make you jealous that I lived with five boys?

I'm sorry, though, for all the times I mistreated you. I know I can really push your buttons.
And it's not fair to you when I turn you on and then walk away, leaving you to sit idle while I go attend to other things.

You can be really sweet--sending me notes and pictures. Sometimes I don't understand them, though.
Why do you need me to deposit money in the Nigerian Prime Minister's bank account? Also, I'm definitely not going to order male enhancement pills. And that "funny picture of Lindsay Lohan?" I brought that up, and you just shut down.

But, computer, do you know what I like best about you?

When you sit on my lap, you really get me hot.

The Duel

Dear Andrew,

Thanks for challenging me to a writing duel. Now I get to look through my myriad folders of crap, semi-crap, crap that could be good, good stuff that could be great and collection of writings that only have the first sentence to pull out something I can fashion into a story I'm not embarrassed to share and would at some point consider submitting to McSweeney's.

Not to mention I only have until Wednesday and I don't want to give you five bucks if I don't meet our deadline. I will gladly take your money, however, should you fail to meet your end of the bargain.

Your friend,

The King of Mexico

P.S. How I feel

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.