Santa Baby

So There's That

Brrr

So to uplift after my last post you should all check out this video-its from the Reflections of Christ video and its amazing.

I love you all :)

Have a very merry Christmas.

P.S. its 16 degrees here, how about that?

O.J. (the beverage)

Last night we had a "dance party" at a friends house. What kind of dance party? A black out party. So to give you a visualization, imagine about 40-50 Mormons ranging from ages 18 to 30ish dancing around in our friend's parent's living room wearing white T-shirts and covered with neon highlighter (as all the lights were replaced with black lights). And to help with the much needed auditory portion of the story, you have to think a conglomeration of music from "Love Don't Come Easy" by Diana Ross to "Big Pimpin'-Edited" by Jay-Z. Got it?

Okay, so here we are having an absolute blast literally dancing for about 4 hours. There were hula-hoops (hip-hula-hooping, neck-hula-hooping, skip-it-hula-hooping, arm-hula-hooping), the ever-cliche "human train" chugging around the 50 sq ft living room, the "human tunnel" with a flurry of dance moves riding down the middle, and last but certainly NOT least: men working their mortal combat/street fighter moves to any techno song they could get their hands on (not to mention my addition of Chun-Li, war-cry included). Phenomenal.

So here's the best part. I get home, amped up on all this sober energy and I call Robert (he was studying for finals all night-which was perfect because dances really aren't his thing) and the conversation goes a little something like this:
Robert: So how was it?
Me: Oh man, oh man, it was so awesome. We like wrote all over ourselves...you know like with highlighter. Oh man, there were black lights and oh we danced and danced for hours. Seriously. It was a blast. Oh and then and then there was hula hooping, oh oh and Tom drew a ring on my finger during this song, and and then we...man. It was just way fun.
Robert: Huh. Well good.
Me: So what did you do all night
Robert: Well I read this really interesting article about (deep, insightful, deep) and then I was reading this list from the New York Times about (interesting, informative, intellectual). So that's about it.
Me: (Pause) Uh.

****FLASHBACK****

*Flashback to the tenth grade. I walk in from a long night out to my dad waiting for me (as always) he inquires about my night and I have to explain why I have orange juice dripping from my hair (after a food fight, turned OJ drinking contest) laughing all the while because to me it was wildly funny. After my pathetic OJ anecdote I look down to the book he's reading, Lectures on Faith. Crap. Dad says, "Well I've just been studying the principles of (deep, doctrinal, deep).

****RETURN TO CONVERSATION****

Me: Dangit.

Ho ho crap

Soo...If one can only stand about 15% of Christmas music on the radio, and 0% of Enya...what happens when you put them together? I'll tell you: a near frenzy when trying to change the station and because of all of the distractions not understanding when you try to change it three different times with no luck, its not that you are pressing the same buttons, but that at three separate moments, at three separate radio stations, three separate individuals decided to air that crap. You can't NOT be with me on that if you could actually bear to sit through the ENTIRE song. Torturous. I'd rather kick kittens around all day.

Coooo

Today I was a sitter at work. Sitter: a babysitter for adults in a hospital setting (I made up that definition). My patient was on suicide precautions (after jumping from a car moving 65 mph...and he was driving) so from 6-3 my job was to give this patient my undivided attention: Urinal, food, urinal, toothbrush, urinal, television and so forth. These tasks only take up so much time and the rest of the time was mine to do anything my little heart desired in a small, dark, hospital room. Unfortunately today is the first day I forgot my cell phone and Gmail was the only thing I could access from the hospital computer. Lucky for me there was a Desperate Housewives marathon on: Gchat, affairs, Gchat, someone died, Gchat, more affairs...

Also, a flock of pigeons settled outside the window. This was not-so-lucky. Pigeons are really annoying. They can literally coo for hours, and I'm pretty sure they were saying something like, "Coo, sucks you're stuck in a germy hospital room, coo". Pigeons are lame.

And in other news:

*Obama is looking to make Broadband as prevelant as telephone lines. So that'd be cool.

*There is an enormous selection of deodorant these days, you can pretty much smell like anything. I stood in the deodorant aisle for what had to have been 20 minutes going back and forth between Breezy Shower, Silk powder, or Forest Rain...and there were so many more.

*I bought strawberry cream cheese today, not because I particularly love strawberry cream cheese, but because it had a pink lid for breast cancer. Not only do I support breast cancer research; I support pink.

Odd

So today I bought a pair of scissors for a project. When I got them home and tried to open them, I quickly realized I needed a pair of scissors to open my scissors. Really? Who's idea was that?

I also was starving and running really behind schedule, so when I was at Walgreens picking up some supplies (including my scissors-to-open-scissors) I ran by the freezer aisle and grabbed a frozen dinner of mac and cheese. I know, frozen mac and cheese is even worse than box mac and cheese-but I was desperate. I got it home and realized it was in a cardboard box...how did I not realize that before? I really don't know. Directions: pull back cardboard and microwave for 2 minutes. Uh oh, this will probably be much worse than I am imagining. Bingo! I promptly trashed it after wrestling back a corner and observing a stack of freezer-burnt noodles and a pile a dehydrating cheese to boot. So...cereal?

Oh, and for some reason I have experienced some form of regression and can't stop biting my nails. I rarely bit my nails when I was a kid...why is this happening? Help.

I [almost] Voted!

Today I filled up my tank for $23. I was telling someone about this small miracle at school and as I was sharing this story I couldn't help but think of one of my dad's favorite cliche's: "happy as a pig in slop." And today, driving away from the Shell station, I was indeed, happy as a pig in slop.

In other news, today is election day! Woo! Unfortunately when I showed up to valiantly cast my ballot-I was informed that I did not have a current address registered and therefore I would not be able to vote. Crap. The first opportunity in my short-lived life to vote...to proudly display an "I voted" sticker, and nothing. Sad. Do you think I can cast my vote in prayers? If I pray and pray will this make up for my lack of democratic contribution? "Thank you for this lovely weather and please, please at least give Virginia to McCain..."

Mmmm Toasty

So I was rushing to class today and thought, hey its going to be a long day, i should make a sandwich. Little did I know it was going to be a masterpiece in the making. Originally it was just a ham and cheese sandwich on wheat, but by the time I ate it, it would be so much more. Short story, short-I left it in my car during class and turns out the heat would get to it before I did. The cheese was melted, the ham was hot, the bread was stale (and hot) giving it the texture and temperature of being perfectly toasted and bam! Hot ham and cheese. Mmmm Toasty.

Oh and I don't think its right to not have have this picture posted somewhere.

J E L L Ooooo

Somewhere along the line, a chemist made lots of money developing the Jell-O they serve you in hospitals. There is no way there is not an extra, synthesized compound hidden in the depths of a hospital laboratory that allows this Jell-O to keep it shape for days. You will never walk into a patient's room and see on their bedside table a puddle of Jell-O. A day later, three days later: perfect symmetrical cubes of green, blue, red gelatin. It's a hospital-cafeteria anomaly and I stand by it.

On a different note, at work, after giving Mr. Kadara his breakfast the other morning he shared with me his experience of being kidnapped the night before. Fortunately, he was taken to a cafe and fed a delicious meal before being returned to his hospital bed. Then he promptly asked me to leave his wheelchair by the door that night so that he could readily escape when the time was right. Did I mention he doesn't have a wheelchair? I love my patients.

On a completely unrelated note I gave my teacher a Book of Mormon and today she told me she had been reading it, it had her interested and wanted to talk more. After my initial response, (in my head of course) "Really?" I started to feel like Elder Calhoun from the Best Two Years. For those of you who have missed out on this little gem of a film, here's a quick clip that ought to give you the idea.

Sheesh, people. Sheesh.

Controversial?

So I'm sure a ton of you have heard the news about Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee and her stance on naming hurricanes but if not here's an update:

Do devastating hurricanes need help from affirmative action?

A member of Congress apparently thinks so, and is demanding the storms be given names that sound "black."

The congressional newspaper the Hill reported this week that Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee, D-Texas, feels that the current names are too "lily white," and is seeking to have better representation for names reflecting African-Americans and other ethnic groups.

Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee, D-Texas

"All racial groups should be represented," Lee said, according to the Hill. She hoped federal weather officials "would try to be inclusive of African-American names."

A sampling of popular names that could be used include Keisha, Jamal and Deshawn, according to the paper.

Jackson Lee's call is brewing its own storm of response across America.

My personal favorite response:

Limbaugh- "I just threw up in my hands."

The Meter Man

Working as a meter monitor (you know-the guys that leave the little yellow ransom notes under your windshield wipers {"Pay $___ or I'll tow your crap"} is the equivalent of saying, "Hello, my name is so and so, and I'm here to make your day a little crappier." The past couple of days on my way to school I walk past a skinny meter man. The term "empathy" has taken on a whole new meaning to me. As he slipped his county-stamped papers onto the windshield of a Dodge Ram I couldn't help but feel like (in a voodoo doll kind-of-way) that it may as well have been my Honda Civic being wallpapered with fines. I was nearly tempted to shout, "Hey! He's coming back I just saw him around the corner...maybe you could give him a minute or two!" I'm not sure where the plan would unfold from there, maybe as he looked around to check for the man I would tackle him-I don't know.

Anyway, I just imagine the skinny meter man waking up each morning chanting to himself the code of the "Meter Police" while sipping on over-sweetened coffee and reading the obituaries in the newspaper. Why would I imagine that? Just because he hands out parking tickets does that really make him worthy of a judgment including Splenda and the recently deceased? Its hard to say. Bottom line is, what a self-deprecating job...You can do better than that meter man!

Back to School

Sweet sweet community college.

Attended by those eager to complete a second degree and recognizing you can actually do pretty well paying a 1/4 the price or B) attended by rebellious teens who anxiously await the first opportunity to take a "smoke break" in the middle of class. And that's all there is. That is all I got out of class today.

In other exciting news my best friends are back and this is wonderful. In other, other exciting news I met Aaron Piersol on campus the other day. As I casually introduced myself (not knowing who he was) while Ferry "chit-chatted" about old times. Upon walking away it kind of went like this:
Me-"Geez, gorgeous"
Ferry-"Oh well you DO know who that is right?"
Me-<-Pause->
Ferry-"Uh Aaron Piersol"
Me-"Ferry! What the...hey how about next time there is an amazing gorgeous Olympian around the corner...a heads-up please!"

But no worries, when he asks Ferry for my number I have given her strict instructions to give it to him no questions asked.

I'll be sure to let you know how our falling in love goes. Robert is very supportive.

Utopia

My idea of a perfect world: (for those of you who think like my brother I'm sure you immediately thought "communism" when you read the title but please-put that aside for now)

Eh em....Utopia

1. Free laundry mats
2. Nothing but bottled water
3. Foaming soap dispensers outside every doorway
4. Delicious chocolate with zero calories
5. Rare meat that doesn't harbor salmonella and/or listeria
6. Beds that make themselves (as long as you could program them to do it right)
7. The destruction of Murphy's Law
8. 86 degrees outside with a breeze for 11 months of the year. The other month can be freezing so my cute winter clothes get some street time
9. Nail polish that NEVER chips
10. Cheap wall clocks with second hands that don't tick so loud
11. Automobiles that run on happy thoughts (Kill two birds with one stone: free fuel & less road rage)
12. Where pressing harder on the remote buttons when the batteries are dead actually works
13. Where OCD stands for Organized, Confident and Diligent

So maybe this wouldn't exactly be my ideal Utopia, but I feel like it might make my life easier.
That is all.

hmm

Sometimes when I write blogs that have a larger percentage of serious content than sarcasm, I feel like people become uncomfortable and don't know how to handle it. What does that mean?

<3

I don't love when just anyone calls me Kasey Jean.
I do love when the right people do.
I don't love snow cones.
I do love Amy's Ice Cream.
I don't love living along.
I do love an immaculate apartment.
I don't love toothpaste on the cap.
I do love butterfly clips on the end of the toothpaste.
I don't love pulp in my orange juice.
I do love really cold water.
I don't love paying for laundry.
I do love ironing jeans.
I don't love sad stories (even if they end happy).
I do love fantasy novels (its true!)
I don't love Anne Hathaway.
I do love Reese Witherspoon.
I don't love Austin without certain people.
I do love anywhere with the right person.

sheesh

This next paragraph will only be effective if you can try to imagine it being spoken loudly, quickly, with an innumerable amount of arm gestures. (and by yours truly of course)

I've decided that in the male brain there are certain neurological pathways being completely obstructed by societies influence of computer games, video games, and ESPN. Interestingly enough these neurological pathways are the very same facilitators of those tasks that, when incomplete or unattempted, drive women crazy. If only there was some way we could free those synapses from the bondage they've been subjected to, the water pitcher might just have a chance of making it back into the fridge. Sounds made up I know, but maybe...just maybe if we can make them understand the outstandingly novel idea of "giant cooler keep things cold," luke-warm water would be a thing of the past!


<-storms off->


*No men were harmed in the publishing of this blog*

yet.

I didn't but now I do

Brace yourself, today's blog is NOT going to be very interesting...more informative. If you skip reading this, my feelings will remain intact (just don't tell me and they will).

Isn't it weird that there are things we dislike for so long, and then one day, we decide we like them?
Today I made a list:

Mustard
Ketchup
Tomatoes
Cantaloupe
Honeydew
Beats
Red nail polish
Bangs
Psalms
Robert
The Sound of Music
Chocolate Milk
...and the list goes on

NOW, on the other hand, there are also so many things that I used to love and now-not so much
For instance:

Blue eyeliner
Baggy jeans
Long nails
Piercings
Hairspray
N*sync (not even true: still love them)
Chains
MTV
Crazy print pants (R.I.P. Latex leopard pants 1999)
7th Heaven
Highlights magazine


So for a lot of these there is a pretty obvious explanation behind (blue eyeliner?). But for others, is there really any logic? I'm not sure if I'll ever know. The one thing I'm sure of is that the things that I used to love paint a picture of me that I'm not sure is healthy for people to know. Either way...there it is.

R.I.P.

Text message sent to Dru (my brother)-

Me: Time of dirty rat death 9:19pm 7/24/08

Dru: May he burn in rodent hell

Me: Amen.

Houston, we have a problem

If you haven't read my previous post, you probably won't understand this one. I thought I would give everyone a follow up on my mission to execute the "so-called" mouse in my apartment.

Mouse? WRONG.

On Tuesday I set a few mouse traps, baited them with peanut butter and went to bed feeling confident that my days of fearing for my bread's integrity were over. I woke up the next morning only to find utter, and complete failure.

Of the three traps:
First: Completely unscathed
Second: Void of peanut butter and still intact
Third: Void of peanut butter, snapped, drug across the floor, and covered in claw marks.

I picked up the last trap and examined the scratch marks. There is something wrong here. So I determined it was either a very skillful mouse with abnormally wide feet OR a rat. So last night I went out and purchased a covered trap. Good thing I did too-because I gave my little rat friend something to toss around the kitchen last night. So far this rat has gotten its own peanut butter sandwich out of me, and a night of entertainment with it's new toy, "mouse trap."

Under my stove there were some sticky traps that had been laid by the previous owners. I figured that while I was at work, just to be safe I would set them out. All I could think about was coming home to some big ole', fat rat just struggling to get free of the glue. And to make matters worse, my co-workers informed me that those are the worst because sometimes the rat will do whatever it takes to get free and even rip off its own legs. NOW all I can think about is coming home to a sticky pad with little broken rat legs on it. After seeking advice from several individuals at the Wheatsville CO-OP I went to the hardware store and bought a rat trap you see on the left that could literally kill a cat. I chatted with the maintenance guy who has become a friend after our many visits together (which is a different story all together ). He helped set them up and he is going to come by in the morning to be sure that he takes care of it. But seriously, do you see the size of it? What do you bait that with? A club sandwich? Anyways, please pray for my little crappy apartment and the death of this rat. It's all I ask.

More to come...

Mouse Trap

As many of you know I moved into a new two bedroom apartment this month and currently, am the only one living here. As many of you ALSO know, I'm a complete pansy. Being alone in this apartment has been terrible. Major contributors to my uneasiness include the following: the man who committed suicide on the first floor, the crazy people next door that have been petitioned to be kicked out, the middle-aged man by the pool who rolls his shorts up obscenely high, and most importantly, my new roommate.

Let me explain.

I got home today and thought that a nice egg sandwich was in order (I am my mother's daughter*) I reach for the bread and there I saw it. Two large holes and 1/4 of my bread GONE. A mouse? A mouse in my apartment? Even more than that, a selfish mouse in my apartment? The only thing I can think is: "What do they think they're doing? That was $6 Harvest Grain 12-Grain bread!" Does said mouse think that bread just grows on trees?" After a moment of resentful and bitter thoughts towards the culprit mouse I realized that it was time to show him (jerk) or her (hussy) a lesson.

I then proceeded to google "how to trap a mouse."

Personalized Results 1 - 10 of about 6,560,000 for how to trap a mouse. (0.28 seconds)

See that mouse? I now have 6,560,000 different ideas to hunt you down. If you feel helpless now, just wait until you see this:

Snap Mouse and Rat Traps: Model M150, M201

Easy Set® Mouse Trap (Cheese Pedal): Model M035

Rat Trap - Expanded Trigger: Model M205

Electronic Mouse Trap: Model M25

Quick Set Rat Trap: Model M131

"No See" Mouse Traps: Model M127

TIN CAT® Repeating Mouse Trap: Model M310

And those my friends, are only a few from a long, long list. Ridiculously enough, someone decided to create a sticky mouse trap that glues their tiny bread-stealing-feet down and once caught, the hippie-owner of this shameful trap can vegetable oil the rodent's way to freedom. What kind of world do we live in that we are now sparing the lives of tiny creatures that eat all of your food and squeak around everywhere. Unless your name is Splinter my food is not yours for the taking.

I went out and purchased some old school mouse traps, baited them with peanut butter, and will anxiously await the execution of the Apt. 206 mouse.

Date and time of death TBA.



*Things only family members would understand. For all your other individuals-I suppose you not knowing is a backhanded curse for not being part of my family

eBay

HOW in the world did I JUST figure out that people will buy ANYTHING on eBay??? I'm moving into my new apartment tomorrow so I thought I would start going through my things with hopes that I could get rid of some crap. That's right: crap. So as I was going through my closet I came across a few Abercrombie polo's that I haven't worn in at least two years and that's when it happened...a little eBay voice came into my head and screamed, "Sell me! Sell me to the unsuspecting twelve year old girls that don't know what a 'deal' is and only care about that tiny moose proudly advertised beneath their popped collar!" ".......yes!" I replied. So I proceeded to sell a few polos for an undisclosed amount of money. Then when I thought it was over, my little eBay Id prompted the idea of maybe selling some purses that have long been neglected. Absolutely!

Three hours later, I have less to move and enough money for two plane tickets. I love eBay.

News

Good News: I have bangs! (Note: photo included at bottom of page)

Bad News: The nicknames that have ensued make me want to shave them off like in the 5th grade at Jamie Reid's slumber party.

==========

Good News: I have been officially accepted to Nursing School.

Bad news: I had my first class ever today and learned how to wash my hands for 4 hours...I've been living life under the impression that a little warm water and friction would do the trick...how could I have been so foolish?

==========

Good News: My trip this past weekend to Utah was wonderful.

Bad News: I seemed to have picked up a viral infection called Pityriasis Rosea. It consists of bright red hives...and spreads. I feel like that is all the needs to be said.

==========

Good News: Our new bishopric has made some much needed changes to my institute responsibilities.

Bad News: The new first counselor used the term, "fellowshiphood" in Sunday school while proceeding to record it on the board. *Flashback to the 7th grade when Ms. McDowell pronounced "sepulchre" as "se-pull-chur".........?

==========

Bad News: I have been missing Kjersti like crazy

Good News: Nothing has gone missing in approximately 30 days, 6 hours, and 16 minutes. (The connection to her marriage is complete happenstance)

==========

Good News: I move into a new apartment with a great location in a few days.

Bad News: I have about 5,100 ft² less than what I had when I lived at home.

==========

And for the best news: I am silly happy. I'm so grateful that mom and pop let me move to Austin when I did. I have turned so much around and thanks to the influence of my family, friends, and the gospel, (and potentially Dad's A-type personality I inherited) I have had every opportunity to become someone that I feel content with. There are definitely things I want to change and improve on, but having the assurance that I am on the right path to making these changes is exactly the encouragement that I need. Things have and are turning out much differently than I could have ever imagined, but I would never change them or take them back. Bottom line is: I am simply happy.

Gone

Kjersti's wedding and come and gone (along with Kjersti)

The family has left.

And I have no friends.

Please feel free to come and visit at your earliest convenience.

In recent news...

School is done: Phew

Vacation to San Diego: phenomenal

No job, No School: Boring (lots of hiking)

Vacation to Utah: wonderful

New job (Satellite Bistro and Bar): so far so good

Kjersti's wedding weekend: TBD

Uhh

People keep asking why I haven't written anything lately. I have no idea. I won't even pretend like its because I was studying. I guess I could say, "well, I have had a lot on my mind and many decisions to make" but that would imply that I have, in fact, made some important decisions in the past month...which would be false.

When I look at this past semester all I can say is...really? Really, Kasey? You had a perfectly good semester of school and all you did was neglect it? Yes, yes I did.

The good news is I think I learned a lot about myself recently:

A. The best time to "study" is when I am straightening my hair because if forces me to spend a whole hour sitting in one place

B. I have no concept of what it means to be an adult

C. I need to brace myself for the unrealistic future I have tried to dodge the past 2 years

D. When I find something I really enjoy, I abuse it until I don't enjoy it as much (pearl drinks: 3 in one day? sick)

E. I'm a sucker. And I kind of love it

Hope Floats

Smithville, Texas*

(AKA: what every Hollywood movie makes Texas out to be)

Preface: Kjersti and I went to the Smithville Jamboree the other night with a few friends who, in fact, grew up in Smithville.

Some of you may be thinking, Smithville?! Of course, the town where they filmed Hope Floats! However, the realistic chance that that thought even skimmed the surface of your mind is doubtful. The only people in the world who know that Hope Floats was filmed in Smithville, are the folks from Smithville holding onto that achievement for dear life.

"Well howdy there, I'm Joy, and you're?"

"Oh hi, I'm Kasey"

"You ain't from Smithville are ya? I woulda recognized ya. You mighta heard of Smithville because Hope Floats was filmed here, didya know?"

"Yes, so I've heard."

Basically that about wraps up the extent of the dialogue for the night. Feel free to replace Joy for Bud, Cletus, or Angel and there you go.

Anyways, when we showed up to our buddy's house he explained to us how big this Jamboree was and how we could meet at the shuttle stop and it would pick us up. And by meet, he meant walk 50 yards around the corner to his old high school (Go Tigers!) and ride the short bus the next 50 yards to the event of the season. Smithville High School: complete with two sets of bleachers, four lane track, and a "No Solisitors" sign to boot (that's not a spelling error-Texans are just that, Texans-making it completely acceptable to change the alphabet if Coach Buck sees fit).

After the initial shuttle driver shafted us because his shuttle was "too full" (Texas Lingo: "too full" translates to: "Yankees...how dare you pile onto this shuttle without an oversized, rhinestone-embossed belt buckle and a matching one for your baby?!") we caught the next one with the friendlier bus driver who very pleasantly welcomed us on his shuttle. How fortuitous that we were able to catch the driver who suffered from slight mental confusion and visual impairment (Which has only been linked 98% with the over consumption of moonshine).

Following the crowd of eager Smithville Natives, I stopped a moment to take a deep breath of that hot, smoky, Texas air. After a few seconds however, I made the moral decision that breathing, although necessary, would have to be kept to a minimum because I knew in my heart I was justifying the second-hand high from the group of teenagers behind me. Although, after I realized it was the teenagers with a few of their teachers and the local sheriff I felt better about it, but that is neither here nor there.

We danced, ate, (incidentally, you can fry anything imaginable...snickers, oreos, baby formula: sky's the limit!) sang, and danced some more. I learned about "Arm-a-dill-a-hunin" (Armadillo hunting), passam trats (Opossum traps), not to mention a certain kind of wood that ferments alcohol...(Mom, Dad, how could you let me go through life so sheltered?).

Did I mention Aaron Watson performed? Probably not considering 95% of the individuals reading this only know of one Aaron and he's probably never even thought the words, "breaker breaker" (Love you cuz). Either way, he was great, Smithville was great, and all I can say is that I've already began to prepare for next year.

-Platinum Blonde Hair dye: check (if I use it now by about this time next year my roots will be Smithville-ready)

-Flannel button-up from a box labeled "FREE": still en route

-An obscenely high tolerance to any of the following: Lonestar, Natural Light, OR Keystone: Will keep you posted

Oh it's gonna be good

*tumbleweeds, pregnant women smoking, and everything else you could ever dream of

Optimism?

People keep telling me that I can will myself to do better in school. If I am optimistic about the future and my success, I will see positive results. My initial reaction is, "well that's a load..." But since nothing else seems to be working I have considered the whole, changing-my-attitude route. But then I thought, doesn't this throw the universe off? Isn't there supposed to be a balance of optimism and pessimism in the world? A happy homeostasis? What if everyone were nothing but optimistic all the time? "Crap, I just stepped on a 2 inch plywood nail!" "Oh don't worry about it, lock-jaw isn't so bad." Does that make anyone feel better? I mean I guess if it does that's okay too, but then I would call you a liar. And then you might call me a pessimist, and there it is, balance is restored.

As a matter of fact, I think that if more people would subscribe to the idea of pessimism, they would in fact find themselves, less disappointed. Like, "Hey, turns out you needed one more B to pass this class, sorry." "Figured as much, see you in the summer." See? Doesn't that sound so much better than, "Oh my goodness, but I worked so hard, and put in so much time and effort, please I did the best that I could!" ...I rest my case.

You call it pessimism. I call it realism.

Catch up

So its been a while. Why? What have I been doing that has been SO important? Nothing. Nothing at all. After my return to Austin Post-op, I was pretty much helpless. I got back on the Tuesday of my spring break. Fortunately, living in Texas redefines bed rest. For me, this was laying by the pool for 8 hours a day (give or take). Dangerous? Nah, I hear that's a myth anyways. And if not, all I'm sayin is, "Helllo Melanoma!" At least I'll die with a beautiful tan right?

Anyways, so that was my spring break. I am not allowed to run for one more week so I've taken up speed-walking. I've never felt so geriatric in all my life. I walk the lake in the mornings and pass the usual runners I see and wave to. The other day the amazingly fit 65 year-old winked at me and said, "So we're walking these days?!" I think something subconsciously snapped, because now every time I see an elderly woman I want to trip her... but then I remembered-the doctor told me to take it easy. (I'll get her next time-you know who you are, Gertrude). And although there are downsides to the whole speed walking thing (getting everywhere ridiculously slow, looking ridiculous, feeling like you just wasted an hour and a half of your life) they tell me that its actually a great work out. And by they I am of course referring to the "Grandma's for Fitness" club who also walks the lake every morning.

So I guess bottom line is this is why I haven't blogged. Lame.

Flight Back Home

Upon arrival at the Austin-Bergstrom Airport (5:33pm) I made my way through the treacherous lines if a busy Thursday night check-in. (For those of you who have had the privilege of a flight into or out of this particular airport are undoubtedly thinking: "Busy? Lines? You do mean the same airport, right? Salt Lick Taco stand? 5 baggage claims? That same old guy who stares at your license for 20 minutes before initialing?" Treacherous may be an exaggeration but it was not done with ease so the term seemed appropriate)

I get up to the check-in desk:

A. Punched in my ever-so convenient confirmation code (5CCSQ)

B. Weighed my unnecessarily large suitcase (which in anticipation of shopping with mom deemed essential for that extra 20 lbs I may or may not acquire.

C. Walked through security and in doing so, the idea dawned on me how strange the elements of that line really are...Men taking off their belts, the faux pas of mismatched socks, old men insisting their pace-maker sets off the alarm every time, not to mention being scolded for not removing your small, lightweight jacket that only covered half of your upper body anyways.

Finally by 5:43 pm the hustle and bustle was over. Phew.

Then, here it comes-you wait all day to finally be on your way to the airport (airport=destination. Even if it is a work-related trip you still have the ability to justify overdosing on honey glazed peanuts <11> and, not getting any business done due to "dosing off...because who can focus at those altitudes?") You're through all the lines and then what? Well, (and this is purely hypothetical) now you get to sit down between the man chomping down Cinnabon Cini-Minis (AKA Heart Attack: Clotting Since 1984), and the 15 year-old boy who hasn't figured out: just because your headphones are intended for your ears only...at maximum volume all those around you are now subjected to the musical stylings of your big brother's best friend's band (tell him to go back to college).

Does it get any better? You think no, but it turns out...Yes!! It wouldn't be right to exclude the man you sit across from, who possibly has the idea that since you aren't making direct eye contact you don't notice his eyes staring into your mind and soul. Fortunately, when your soul is as dark and unpleasant to be in as mine (cobwebs and pointy things everywhere) he promptly moves onto the next individual with two X chromosomes whom he can impose his awkwardness on...hypothetically.

What else is there to say? Flying...there's no other experience like it!

DING! You are now free to sit on the outside row of Team: Free-Beer-Coupons

Trouble in the Library

Scenario: (Imagine yourself there, and as myself, but don't get used to it...there is only one me)

Here I am in the library, minding my own manners on the computer. When I am studying I prefer things to be quiet...hence...I head to the library (funny how that works) anyways, there I am working on the foundation of my future, when homeboy comes over and sits his butt down next to me and starts typing. So as his typing continues, he starts to drop curse words all over the place, and I'm thinking, really...really? First and foremost, completely unnecessary to share your commentary aloud with everyone else in the library...nobody cares (namely, myself), and secondly, there are more efficient ways of getting the attention of the person next to you than speaking like an uneducated, obnoxious punk.

So my thoughts are, "okay, next time he says it, just say something. You wouldn't be doing anything wrong, HE's wrong" (I'm never wrong). Little did I know, things work a little differently at ACC Riverside campus (I guess the teachers that got caught drinking booze in the bathroom should have tipped me off. Even if it was free from the metro bus driver. Google it, its true)

-20 minutes later, 7853476895374 profanities later-

Enough is enough, right? WRONG. So after his last ridiculous conglomeration of every obscenity he could think of, I look over and say, "Look, I'm sure whatever you are doing...I'm sure its very frustration, but would you be so kind as to curse yourself...in your head?" (Disclaimer: Although most of you are imagining me saying this with a considerable amount of attitude...the attitude was minimal! Seriously!) Anyways, the rest of the conversation went a little something like this:

Thug Masta Riverside*: Excuse me?

Me (or You if you're still playing me in the scenario): Well, do you mind?

Thug Masta Riverside: Yeah, well maybe I do! (Expressed with buckets full of attitude and breath that deserves the death sentence)

Me: Yeah...well MAYBE you shouldn't be in the LIBRARY!

And THEN, out of nowhere, Mr. Astigmatism (please, no offense to those of you who unfortunately suffer from vision impairment) from the circulation desk comes over....."uhhh, excuse me, uhh problem?"

Me: Actually, yes, I was just trying to....

Thug Masta Riverside: YEAH. THIS **&$@#%#$^ was just *@&%$@%^#&^$#& and I'm gunna do whatever I want!

At this point, I may or may not have called him something, and told him to go do something, but that information is really not pertinent to the story.

Bottom line is, they kicked ME out. ME. They asked me to leave and to not come back until the next day. Are you kidding me? Is there no justice in this world? He gets to surf eBay while I am sent to time-out? Give me a break Riverside-circulation-desk!

And there it is, I was officially kicked out of the Riverside Community College Library. If I've ever felt any sort of failure before, nothing is comparable to my walk of shame through the metal detectors, out those double doors (pepperspray in hand), past the wailing sirens of two cop cars, all the way to my Honda Civic (parked next to the 86 el camino: License plate: elhombre).

That's it. You can relinquish my persona from this scenario and go back to your uneventful lives at your Universities and careers.

*Names have been changed because Johnny Bad *** didn't seem appropriate, and my Dad reads this. Hey Dad!

Wahoo!

Last night I realized, hey, you're failing school. So I studied. And studied. And studied. I woke up this morning, and studied until class. After class, I went to the library. After the library I went to another class. After that class I studied more. And upon completion of this very short and sweet blog, I will study more. I feel like the old Kasey has been brought back to life. Streptococcus Aureus and polysynaptic reflexes here I come!

Apathetic

Is there such a thing as a disease of apathy? Or do they just call that depression these days? Because I don't feel depressed. I am not sad, I am not sitting in my room staring at the wall thinking about absolutely nothing (is that what you do when you're depressed...I don't know?) Point is, I just don't seem to....lets say...."care". But maybe its not that I don't care, its just that I have overly cared about so many things for so long, I'm burnt out on all my ambitious cares. For instance, I care about what I eat for breakfast, I care about my nails always being painted, I also care about trips I want to take. So there's that. The only problem seems to be, that those things don't get me too far. I mean, yes, its important that I eat breakfast every day, but is it really important that my nails never go out in public if they've been chipped?

I should be caring about the physiology exam I have on Monday. Or even, the Pharmacology exam I take tomorrow morning that dictates whether or not I pass the class. But you see, I can't seem to sit down with my books and say, "Books, lets work this crap out." Instead, it comes out, "Books, lets watch hours of mindless television." Neither Will or Grace have the answer (However, Jack or Karen may). Point is, I'm not sure how to get out of this little slump. And by little, I mean this HUGE roadblock of production. Surely recording all these things in a blog isn't the answer. But if it were, I absolutely would NOT be here. So I suppose the question is, am I willing to just suck it up like everyone else in the world? Does anyone sit down with their text book and can't hardly wait to crack open those overpriced pages...and learn...for hours...alone...in the library? Maybe. But I don't buy it. So, there it is.

Mustering the strength to turn that overwhelmingly large leaf....

I've decided that a series of new goals are (and have been for quite some time) in dire need of attention. I always have these really great ideas for improvement and making better use of my time...but alas...reorganizing my closet by different sleeve length and consuming mass amounts of food always seems to ninja its way in. So. With that being said,

Goal 1. Be up and ready to go by 8am sharp. (I know for most people this is an easy task, but I struggle with the snooze-button disease). I think it has something to do with that noise...you know, the buzzing, that unholy sound-wave that was forged from the Devil's hands himself...Its more like a survival instinct. I can't help but lunge out as fast as my body will allow me at 8am (which ironically is very, very slow) and unfortunately for myself, I possess the reflexes of a cat (a very large, overfed cat) and by the time I have pressed that button of freedom...5 times over...all chances at my waking up are out the window. Suggestions?

Goal 2. Since the hours professors give you as suggested study time are typically outrageously unrealistic, this is my official statement that I will allot 2 hours a day to each subject. Except for Micro...and Physio. So I guess that just leaves Pharmacology...and 2 hours might be overdoing it (its actually under-doing it). 2 hours it is!

Goal 3. Become more aware of my eye rolling habits.

Goal 3. Hang out with less people that make me want to roll my eyes

Goal 4. Start fixing my hair at LEAST 4 times a week. I've abused my baseball hat privileges. I pay 60 bucks for a haircut from a fantastic hair-dresser with the conversational aptitude of a can of hairspray...I should try to get the most out of it: and this does not include her reminiscing of when she was young and single, two years ago. You hear that Rockell?

Goal 5. Cut down on my disgustingly enormous amount of sugar-intake per day. A cherry pie, does not constitute as a meal. Unless it is Thanksgiving, in which case, it couldn't be more appropriate.

-Lastly, and most importantly-

Goal 6. Keep a record of 3 things that I am grateful for every day. Starting now:

a. Showers that make your skin burn

b. McDonald's $1 sundaes (with caramel AND hot fudge mmm)

c. Being able to disregard goal # 5 and embrace Goal 6b. Because I can.

There it is ladies and gentlemen. Reach for the stars.

It has been brought to my attention...

1. I am a push, push, pushover. I should probably recruit a team of jocks in aviators to follow me around with a series of self-esteem jokes on call for those particular mishaps when my inner-pansey goes against all my better judgement and plunges to the very same level of kindergarten teachers ("Okay, Bobby, but next time you glue Mary-Sue's hair to the desk its going to be bad news bears!") and florists.*

2. I would rather see Obama in office than John McCain. I'm embarrassed for our country.

3. There is a portion of the telephone customer service application that is required for every major computer, internet or phone company. It reads: Your knowledge and fluency of the English language is moderate to minimal (5 or more syllables MUST be pronounced with a substitute letter of your choosing to fill this requirement). X Initial Here

4. I have nothing clever to say between the hours of 6am through 1am. Either this means I am so focused on school there is no time for mindless banter. OR. My brain, like the bank has notoriously inconvenient operating hours with no sense of rhyme or reason. I'm inclined to believe the latter.

*I have no evidence or experience to support the pansiness of florists but it seems to me that they, by simple career choice, have brought on the reputation themselves.

Horrible Movies

Movies that make me wish I could get those 2 hours of my life back

(In order of suckiness)

1. Cloverfield (A supposed "glorified" documentary that makes you physically ill)

2. American Beauty [(Disclaimer: I saw the edited version on TV) Creepy film with an abuse of motifs]

3. Juno (Encouraging 15 year-olds everywhere that its okay to have a baby because you WILL live happily ever after with your adolescent boyfriend.

4. Definitely, Maybe (Warning: there was no thought put into the making of this movie)

5. Suburban Girl [Sarah Michelle Gellar (a young, size 0 editor) falls in love with Alec Baldwin (a not-so-young, alcoholic, compulsive writer) I feel any more elaboration would be unnecessary.]

Things you should probably be caught up on...

1. The number of guys I'm dating/dated/will date is regrettably unknown

2. Joey had a baby, Kjer got engaged, and I received my first 70% (give or take 12%) thus far in college

3. Break in attempts on our apartment to date: two

4. I've gone 4 days abstaining from making my bed each morning, on the 5th day I tucked in corners and apologized to the rest of the room for making it look bad

5. My secret crush on Mike Grant resurfaced the other day when he diagnosed me with acid reflux and directed me to take tums and inform him of any changes (I always knew there was a spark between us)

6. I found myself talking in metaphors directly after I had drawn out the plan of salvation to a friend on the back of a morphology worksheet. When I looked in the mirror later that day, I was suddenly an old man with $2 dollar glasses on the tip of my nose....working on a puzzle. Strange.

7. Valentine's Day has several themes, A. death (flowers exchanged are in their dying stage and conversation hearts WILL kill you if you consume an amount equal or greater than ten) B. loneliness (everyone without a date spends a long, lonely night with a poorly reviewed film only to remind you that you are, in fact alone) C. Brownie Points (If you have, or are planning on making a faux pas in your relationship, this holiday is your Get-out-of-jail-free card. Embrace it.)

8. Fortunately for myself, the previous bullet didn't apply to me this year. I had two dates.

Introduction

So I feel like since everyone seems to be so far away from me (possibly due to the fact that I moved all the way across the country to pursue dreams of Community College and rights to claim a very large cow as my idol) it has been hard to keep up on everything that goes on. Granted, mom is able to appreciate what I eat for lunch and how I spend the 10 minutes waiting for class to start, however, it seems to me everyone else is missing out. I think its about time that I introduced my random and over analyzed banter to the internet.

...Welcome...