I'm an idiot.

This isn't my flash drive, but this is pretty much what mine looked like at 8 AM this morning after I picked up my computer and didn't bother to take extra caution, knowing that my flash drive was stuck in the USB port. So now it's bent. And it won't read. My dad offered to have someone at work look at it, but I someone at school told me that the technology department will do the data recovery for free. I think I may have them look at it first since it won't cost anything and it'll be easy to have done. So yeah. It's a little bit irritating to say the least.

Not again.

I have an acquaintance getting married next month and tonight I found out another friend is engaged. See, I was right with an earlier post - winter is the season of love. It's almost sickening. It would be if I didn't love the people getting married. As it is, it's still nauseating. And depressing. At least for those of us who are three years single this Thanksgiving holiday. Ah yes, the joys of single hood are many most days. But those "most days" are feeling like less and less the older I get. Soon, they'll just be "days" and then "less days". In the south, it's not uncommon to get married young, so I guess I feel like I'm fast approaching old-maid status. I see myself in thirty years as the crabby, accountant who lives alone with like twelve dogs. Or if I'm lucky, it'll be twelve horses and three dogs. But we'll see. Prospects are slim, and although I tell myself they'll get better after I graduate and get into the "real-world" (whatever that is) the prospects will be much larger. But I'm not buying my own bullshit. So yeah. It's three AM and I need to finish this last question for my auditing case that's due tomorrow so that I can go to bed and get up to go to class and start my daily grind all over again.

Auditing.

Studying blows. Fully. Substitute the Red Bull for a coffee drink of some sort and they pretty much nailed me in this picture. Minus the blond hair of course.

I intimidate men.

It's totally unintentional of course. But I think I do. I was talking with a friend of mine tonight, and I mentioned that I thought that I intimidated men, and she agreed. She said I'm intimidating period. I still don't know whether I should be worried about it or not.

Don't get me wrong, I take pride in the fact that I'm not a push over and I'm not an airhead.

I don't take crap from anybody. I speak my mind. I don't apologize for my opinions. I have high expectations. I like to get dirty. I like to work hard. I like to push myself. I'm can't accept mediocrity. I'm intelligent. I'm sarcastic. I have a black belt. I drive a truck. I'm loud. I stand tall. Hardly anything gets to me. I'm driven. I'm intimidating. And I'm okay with that. It keeps those that aren't worth knowing away. But it also keeps guys away. Which is a problem sometimes.

Anyway, that's my pondering for the night. I found the quote above on google and I really liked it. Sometimes I just find things that strike a chord, and this one did. It might become my mantra. So yeah.

Been a while, hasn't it?

I suppose this is where I go to think things through. To vent. To express. So yeah, I'm here again.

There are ten people in my house. Ten. Not including me. I'm number eleven. There are also three dogs, two cats, two guinea pigs, a rabbit, and a hamster - at least, I think it's a hamster. It's like living in a three ring circus. It's also like living in a house with barely enough space for everyone. Oh wait, that's actually what it is.

I've been relegated to sharing my sister's bed because my grandmother's in mine. I assume my aunt is in my brother's, my cousin is on the couch, my other cousin is probably with my aunt, my brother's fiance is in the living room turned her bedroom, while her son is in the media room turned nursery. My parents are of course in their own room. I still don't know where my brother is sleeping, but I assume that it's with his fiance. It's a mess. Not that I mind, because really, I don't. I love having my entire family in one place because it's not something that happens everyday.

Unfortunately, that means I have no place of my own. Which I don't mind, unless I need to decompress - which is exactly what I need to do. I just finished up two summer courses on Wednesday, and come early Saturday monring - and I'm talking 5:45 AM early - I'll be on a plane to Haiti. For eight days. After which, I'll arrive back in the states just in time to drive back to school, go to bed, and get up to attend the first day of class. So needless to say, I've been a little bit stressed out. And by a little bit, I mean a lot. So much so that I've had daily stress headaches, I had a minor day-long panic attack on Tuesday, and I'm forecasting no sleep tonight.

I'm currently holed up in the library - which is more like an office and less like a library - because it is literally the only room unoccupied that has a door. Lame. But necessary. I'm exhausted, but my mind continues to race, and I suppose I could take something to help me sleep, but let's face it - it's almost four in the morning and I should be up and moving about nine. Besides, the chances of waking someone up, even if it's just the dogs, by looking for something in the pitch black kitchen are too high to risk. I'd feel bad if I woke my cousin sleeping on the sofa a mere fifteen feet from the kitchen.

So yeah. I think I'm going to pop in some Boy Meets World and call it a night. Or a morning. Whatever.

Agreed.

I found this on the internet somewhere. I don't know exactly where it came from, but I like it. I agree with it.

It's that time of year.

You know the one. From about mid April until late August, it's that time of year. Not spring, not summer, but the season of love. It's the time of year the either solidifies a relationship or kills it. Sometimes they remain unchanged, but most times they do. It also means that - for people my age - it's marriage season. Yes, that dreaded, awful time of year where the couples that have been hovering in front of you for the past year, or two, or ten, finally tie the knot. And it's sickening. And sweet. But mostly, it leaves me thinking.

I'm single. Which is either totally unbelievable considering how normal I am [no, really, I'm almost cookie cutter all American girl...almost], or totally believable considering the level of crazy that is my life most of the time. Maybe a combination of both. But what I've really come to realize this season, as I watched a couple that I've know a couple years now finally tie the knot, is that the true reason that I'm single is because I just haven't found him yet. I don't know who he is, but I do know this. It'll be right. And I'll know it.

I've always kind of just known when it comes to things. I knew what kind of car I wanted when I started driving, and even though it was slow in coming, I got it. I knew what prom dress I wanted as soon as I came across it on the rack. I knew what college I wanted to go to after seeing one ad in a magazine. I knew what I wanted to major in after one semester in the introductory course. I knew who I wanted to intern with after the initial office visit and without having gone to any others yet. And I know that when I finally meet That Guy I'll just know. Maybe not right at first, because I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight, but after getting to know him a bit, I will know. Because that's just part of who I am. I know things.

But I don't think this is the point of the post. The point is that I'm bombarded, on all sides, everyday, with the idea that coupleness is key. Commercials. TV shows. Movies. Magazines. The internet. It's all over the place and recently I've been really down about my current status. But I'm working on moving on. I've hit points like this before, and I know it will pass, but at this point, it's depressing.

I came to the ultimate reason as to why I'm single. And I'll post it. It's been sitting as a note draft on my facebook for months, so I figure I'll share it. Here you go:

I can't date. I can't.
I'm too much of dreamer.
I don't spend enough time in the real world, so despite everything around me saying that it's foolish, I still believe in that fairytale.
The one where the whole universe conspires to bring that someone into your life and everything just clicks.
You just know.
There doesn't need to be any big climactic scene, just real life, real real life.
One day you wake up, turn over, and he's there.
And all you can do is grin like a damned fool because there are no words.
There are no strings of letters and syllables that could explain the magnetism between you and him, the intense yearning in your chest, in your soul, to stay as close as possible - to crawl into his skin with him, be a part of him, just as he is inexplicably a part of you.
Expressions do nothing to illustrate the aching in your fingers and arms thinking about him, longing for a touch, an embrace; they cannot adequately portray the tingling in your skin as you remember the caress of his lips and the sweep of his fingers down your body; and they lack the depth to describe the heights to which your entire body soars when he stares at you with those eyes, those deep, soulful orbs, that fill with nameless emotions so thick you begin to wonder whether it's all just a dream.
Nothing could possibly begin to convey the excitement and contentment coursing through your veins and churning so violently in your stomach that you think you might be sick - and that's only if you don't end up in tears first, from both joy and earth shattering fear because something  so good, so pure, so wonderful couldn't possibly last forever.
And when he opens his eyes and smiles at you through heavy lids and sheet indentations on his face, it's like you've entered free fall.
Suddenly there's nothing, nothing at all except the emotions that you're trying so desperately to hide because your eyes are cast back over your shoulder waiting for that other shoe to drop.
The one where you learn something that changes everything, and not for the better... but then he touches your face. A soft, tender, almost tentative brush that both soothes the unsettled feeling and burns across your skin, and when you meet his eyes, they're filled with - with what?
It doesn't matter.
The smile tells you everything you need to know at that moment.
He's happy.
And with that one short realization, the feelings and emotions that had been threatening to boil over are slowed to a simmer.
He's happy.
It means that he's not disappointed that you're the first person he saw when he woke up.
And that says a lot about a man.
It means that he wants you there, beside him, tangled hair, sleepy face, and knotted stomach.
It means that he loves you and that all of those unexplainable, over-the-top, make you sick and euphoric simultaneously feelings aren't just stuck in your body; they're exploding in his as well.
And then, and then.
And then, being unable to contain himself as well as you had, he leans forward and touches a brief, but lingering kiss to your lips, igniting the powder keg that is your chemistry.
He loves you, that you know.
And that's all you really ever need to know.
Everything else is just details.

So there it is. That's why I can't just date any guy and why I'm still single.

My expectations are through the roof. My imagination has run so wild with this that I almost feel like there isn't a guy out there who will ever meet them. Or maybe it's not the guy. Maybe it's me. Maybe a part of me - a large part of me - is terrified that this isn't what love will feel like. I think that's the biggest issue. I'm abso-fucking-lutely scared shit-less that I'll never find this. I'll never find someone that I'll feel this way about. And nobody will ever feel this way about me. So I don't try. Maybe that's it. In fact, I'm almost sure that's it.

But really, what do I know? I'm just a totally average, slightly insane, overly hormonal, well educated, single, twenty-something female with barely enough life experience to fill a coffee cup.

Ke(dollarsign)ha

Normally I'm not a huge Ke$ha fan. But my sister has one of her CDs and we were listening to in on the way home tonight and I fell in love with one of her songs. It's the only one that resonates any sort of truth and it's the kind of truth that's raw and painful and fantastic all at the same time. Maybe it's just the mood I've been in the last few days but I really, really like it.

This didn't turn out the way I wanted it to.

This started as an explanation about my problem of getting overly emotionally involved with fictional characters. Now, I've revised it to showcase some of my favorite fictional couples, whether they ended up together or not, and whether they've ever been together or not.

Logan Echolls and Veronica Mars

"Veronica Mars"

Tommy Oliver and Kimberly Hart

"Mighty Morphin Power Rangers"

Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan

"Bones"

Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson

"Law & Order: SVU"

Buffy Summers and Angel

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer"

Julianna "Jules" Callaghan and Sam Braddock

"Flashpoint"

Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel

"Glee"

I have a serious affection for all of these couples, but I think my favorite is Kurt and Blaine, although only by a slim margin. Tommy and Kim have been around for a much longer time and I've had a soft spot for them for several years...over a decade come to think of it. Anyway, those are just my favorite television couples. Maybe I'll do another one later that lists my favorite movie couples... Who knows?

I have a serious question.

On a scale from 1 to 80's fashion, how lame is it that I'm re-watching all the episodes available on Netflix of this show?

Because I don't think it's that lame. If you were a nineties kid, like I was [and I mean you were born before the nineties, not in the nineties] then you should remember this show, even if you weren't a fan. Personally, I loved the Power Rangers, and I still do. Although it did help that Tommy [bad Green Ranger turned good Green Ranger turned powerless turned good Green Ranger turned White Ranger turned Red Ranger turned Black Ranger] looked like this:

He was cute. Way cute. He's an MMA fighter now. And a Christian. Check out the tattoo on his left arm.

Anyway, I've gotten way off track. I'm watching the Power Rangers again. And I wanted to know if it was lame. Is it? Or is it a reasonable interest of a college age girl who grew up watching the show and whose interest in martial arts came from that show?

Not that I really care whether it's lame or not. I'm going to call it research and go on with my life. It's research for the book I'm writing. Yeah, that's it.

And before I forget, while I was searching for photos I came across this website. It's someone's opinion on who should be cast as the new 'original' Rangers should a new movie come out. I agree with it. All of it. Especially having Taylor Kitsch play Tommy. Badassery and long hair. Oh yeah...and he's smokin'.

Live.

I mentioned wanting to travel a lot in my last several posts. What I failed to mention is that I used to have this debilitating fear of the unknown. It crippled my adventurous spirit until about the age of nineteen. That was when I finally looked up at myself in the mirror and went "time to grow a pair." Which I did. Figuratively of course. So I  manned up and did things I never thought I'd do. I spent an entire summer halfway across the country working with people I didn't know, ministering to middle school and high school kids, and doing construction projects that I'd never dreamed of accomplishing. I joined new clubs. I talked to people in class. I spent an entire semester making small talk with people who were older, wiser, and trying to determine if I would be a good fit for their company. I learned to interview well. I learned how to hold a real conversation. I got to know my classmates. I talked to strangers.

Most of all, I've learned that letting fear - of anything, but most importantly the unknown - will cripple you. Allowing fear to tether you to what you know keeps you from experiencing all that the world has to offer. I feel free. I've realized that if I hadn't let my fear of the unknown rule me for so long in middle school and high school, I might have turned down a totally different path. Maybe I would have tried out for the school plays in high school. Or joined a couple more clubs. Or chosen a different college. Who knows? But I feel that in spite of my weaknesses in the past, I'm right where I'm meant to be.

I let fear direct my life for way too long. I finally took back the reigns on my life and instead of holding back, I'm at a gallop. I want to travel, I want to explore, I want to learn, I want to experience. Mostly, I just want to live.

Free (as a) bird

There's no telling where the wind might blow. I could make a million or wind up broke. Either way, free and easy down the road I go.

The insatiable itch to travel is driving me insane. Hopefully it will be alleviated somewhat with my trip to Haiti in August. We shall see.

My biggest fear.

I found this one. I was just talking to my best friend and I mentioned that if I was okay with being mediocre, my life would be so much easier. She laughed because she knew exactly what I meant. It seems that everyone that I've mentioned this to just laughs, but I think most of them don't understand it. I don't want to just exist. I want to be extraordinary, which makes mediocrity my biggest fear.

A horse is a woman's best friend.

There's been one thing that I've wanted since I was ten, that's a purebred black Arabian stallion. Unfortunately, suburbia isn't conducive to horse ownership. I suppose I'll just keep waiting until I decide to settle down and have a place of my own.

Salvador Dali

Sometimes I feel like my internal clock is represented by Salvador Dali's The Persistence of Memory.

I also think this is one of my favorite paintings. I don't usually have "favorites" when it comes to art because I feel so woefully uninformed and undereducated in the subject, but something about this piece resonates with me. 

The Lesser of Two Evils

This time, I don't think there is one. Either way, it's a disappointing year for basketball.

Public schools are so random.

I googled "summer school" fully intending to write a diatribe about summer school, when I found this image. So instead of ranting, I'm going to suggest that if you haven't watched this, you should. It's vulgar, and ridiculous, and Australian, but it's also pretty funny. And even if it's not up your alley [to be honest, it's not my favorite show in the world], it's still a good cultural experience. And it's much better than wasting away brain cells watching this:

or this:

So do a little googling, find a site that will stream the episodes for free, and watch away.

Destinations

Los Angeles

New York City

Chicago

Washington DC

Hawaii

 

Bucket List #3: Visit all of these locations. At least twice.

Bad Puns

Eye have conjunctivitis. It sucks.

It's a sign.

I kid you not. I woke up with this song playing through my head and it hasn't stopped. I've been humming it, singing it, whistling it, and listening to it play through my head. ALL. DAY. LONG. No joke.

I guess it's a sign that it's time for me to head back to school. Away from the craziness that is my family. Don't get me wrong, I love them dearly, all of them, but sometimes I wish a school vacation was actually that. A vacation. [insert heavy, resigned sigh here]

What noise does a zebra make? Because I should be making it.

Sometimes I feel like my life is mirrored with a particular mathematical theory. This week, it's chaos theory.

No, the zebras don't really have to do with anything, but they seemed like a fitting image for the idea of chaos.

I want to be their friend.

They're two of the most obnoxious characters on television, but they're my favorite two. I love their friendship and their mutual support of each others' dreams. Neither one of them is afraid to be themselves. It's what good television is about.

Top Secret: Mission HP

So in case one couldn't tell, I've sort of been on a Harry Potter kick as of late. I've watched the musicals done by Starkid Productions, watched several bits and pieces of the movies on ABC family, and realized that I don't remember as much as I should for this final movie that comes out this summer. So I'm rereading all of the books. All seven. In a week. So far I've knocked out three in two days, so I think I'm doing pretty well. Granted, those were the smaller ones. We'll see how I do with the larger ones. I know what (some of) you are thinking: Is she nuts? Who really reads that fast? Truth is, I do. I really do. It used to drive my parents insane when I'd finish books in a day or two that would take others weeks to read. I've been told that speed reading doesn't exist. I've read articles that say it does. One that I remember explained why most people can't read that fast. Most people read with their left-brain, which vocalizes the word in his or her head. Speed readers don't vocalize the words in their head. They, instead, use the right-brain, which allows them to see images or pictures instead of vocalizing the word. [Here's the article for anyone interested...] That's how my brain works. It doesn't work with textbooks or reading the newspaper, but it definitely works with novels. Sometimes I don't even remember looking at the page, but I can tell you what had just happened because it's like I've got a movie screen in my head. There's a noticeable difference between how I read informative brochures and how I read novels. There's also a large speed difference. Anyway - I've gotten off topic. The point is, I'm aiming to have the remaining four Harry Potter books read in the next five days. I'll let you know how it goes.

Voldy's Gone Moldy

There's been a Harry Potter marathon on ABC family today. It's been a long time since I've watched them or read the books. And now I can't look at them the same after watching A Very Potter Musical and A Very Potter Sequel.

Oh well, I suppose that just makes it all the more entertaining.

...and then everything seems to work out again.

That class made. The one I needed to stay on my graduation plan. So that pretty much relieved the majority of my stress. Now all I have to do is decide where I'm interning next semester. That's going to be a difficult choice, but definitely easier than having to rearrange the rest of my graduation plan. Anyway... I stumbled across this website today (I was on stumbleupon, go figure) and it had a bunch of cool quotes on it. I really liked this one. I feel like it kind of embodies my life. Sure, I can play normal. I can play "normal" really well. But I'm not normal. My mind bounces around more than a pinball during the day, I'm constantly living another life in my head, and occasionally I still feel like I'm twelve. My favorite color is pink, I'm a big fan of Star Wars, Harry Potter, and most classical literature, I read faster than anybody I've ever met, I have absolutely no short term memory, and my caffeine consumption ranges somewhere between "a lot" and "dear-dead-god-why-hasn't-her-heart-stopped-yet!?" But really, being normal is so overrated. Who wants normal anyway? Normal doesn't have any perks. Has anyone ever gotten famous for being "normal"? No. Nobody has. So that's it. Dare to be different. After all, "well-behaved women seldom make history." [Ten points if you know who said that without googling it]

Sometimes you just feel like shit.

I'm having one of those nights. The rest of my college courses are dependent upon one course that I need this summer that may or may not be offered. So I'm stuck in limbo, waiting around to see if it will manifest itself. I'm both holding my breath and trying to keep my hopes down so I don't end up crushed if it doesn't make. Right now I'm wondering why I chose the major I did. Couldn't I have done something easy, like International Studies or History? No, I chose Accounting. The most difficult major in the business school and probably the most complicated 5 year graduation plan offered. I don't know why I chose death through schooling, I must be a glutton for punishment. Right now all I want to do is quit school for a while, do some traveling, maybe try my hand at writing professionally... and kill that damned cicada outside my window. That little bastard is going to die if he doesn't shut up. But really, if it were up to me, I'd travel - see Europe, Washington DC, New York, LA, Hollywood, Chicago... maybe even audition for parts in TV shows and movies. Not like I'd get any parts, but who cares? It would be the experiences that would matter. I'd take painting lessons, horseback riding lessons, dancing lessons, singing lessons, get back into shape, and learn a hell of a lot more than I would sitting in a classroom. But those aren't realistic dreams. They're fantasies, alternate lives that I could have lived had different decisions been made, by me and by others. So back to the real world. Right now I'm going to curl up in bed, listen to my iPod to drown out that effing cicada, and do some reading. For fun. Because it's been way too long since I've read anything for fun and it might just help me escape from my life for a while...

Pretentious.

Sometimes, like tonight, I feel really pretentious. Not because I feel like I'm a better person than someone else, simply because I'm more well read. I explained that the idea that we only use 10% of our brain is just a myth. We actually utilize the majority of our brains. It sounds really simple, but I felt like a know-it-all. Sometimes that happens. Especially to me. Just because I happen to read a lot more than other people. Oh well.

Supermegafoxyawesomehot. Yes, it is a word.

I fancy myself to be above the fan-girl craziness that surrounds this man. But let's be real about this. He's hot. Like really hot. He sings. He acts. He dances. He plays multiple instruments. He's educated. He's a really nice guy. He's creative. And he's physically attractive. I mean, I can almost smell the pheromones through the computer screen. It's insane. There are a few select people in this world for whom I'd compromise my moral standards. He would be one of them. Besides, he's my age. It almost makes me sick knowing that guys like this exist. But really, all it makes me want to do is get a book published, be recognized as a young, attractive, successful, female writer and get invited to an event where we just happen to bump into each other and he falls head over heels in love with me right there. Yeah, okay. It's a little far fetched. And by a little I mean a lot. But who really cares? We all have those ideas. The crazy, out-there, hair-brained schemes that if we could just achieve the impossible would be totally valid ideas. But the truly insane part of those schemes is that sometimes they work. Not all the time. Not even some of the time. In fact, I think 'slim-to-none' would be applicable in this situation, but that's not what matters. Only those truly brave enough to believe in the impossible ever get to see their 'impossible' dreams come to fruition. That's why some people are so successful. They refuse to believe in the impossible. And so do I. So I guess what I'm saying is this: Darren Criss, I'm on my way.

Getaway.

 

This is where I want to be right now. With a book. And my iPod. And a margarita. In my bikini.

*sigh*

Tonight on Jimmy Fallon

I saw him interviewed again. He's such an outstanding (and handsome) young man. It's amazing the things he's accomplished in such a short period of time. Congratulations Chris, you deserve everything you've earned so far.

Bucket List #2: Shake Chris Colfer's hand.

I wanna be a Starship Ranger.

 

If I could do anything with my life right now, anything, I would work with these talented actors and actresses. The people behind Starkid Productions are probably the most brilliant young people on the planet. If anything, they're definitely the most creative. To be able to be involved with a Starkid production would be a dream.

Bucket list #1: Be involved with (or at least attend) a Starkid production.