The Ruiner.

Today, I have come up with the perfect nickname for Judy. The Ruiner. I feel it describes her perfectly.

She ruins my positive moods with her bitchy remarks.

She ruins my sleep with her bright lights and incessant clicking.

She ruins my sense of smell by painting her nails EVERY DAY.

She ruins my nail polish collection by always using my stuff.

She ruins my extra sleep by waking up and being loud as hell.

She ruins my afternoons and nights by napping, leaving me in darkness and silence.

She ruins our room by never ever cleaning herself, though she always says “don’t worry, I’ll fix this”.

She ruins my days by moaning ALL THE TIME. WTF.

Every sip of a drink, moan. Every bite of food, moan. Every EFFIN’ BREATH, moan.

She ruins what should be perfect, wonderful days of having the room to myself….

Aka Judy.

Like today. Today, my photography class was cancelled. I knew this a week ago. I also knew that Wednesday was one of the days she had five classes. Woo! Sleeping in and the room to myself. Ah but wait, I woke up at 11 (far after her first class) to the sound of her voice outside our door. She didn’t go to class. No, she’s just on Facebook. I don’t get it. Every time I get real excited about her going to class, she doesn’t. My classes are never cancelled and so I was even more excited. But instead of sleeping til I woke up, I slept til her loud ass voice woke me up. I also have a pounding headache. Yay! Fun day already. So now instead of my plan to workout in my room, shower, and try curling my hair, I will be showering and getting the hell outta here. Why won’t I curl my hair? Oh because this lovely roommate of mine always has commentary. And something certain people in my life don’t realize is I don’t like commentary. If I want your opinion, I will ask you. I want to learn on my own, I don’t want Judy to try and teach me. OH, freakin’ joy of joys! I hear her tapping her nail polish loudly.

I hate my life. I hate my roommate. How many days til May 11?!

Lesson for the Day: Don’t be a ruiner.

Short & Sweet.

WHY DOESN’T JUDY EVER GO TO CLASS ON TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS?!

At least if she looked like this it would mean she had been doing something useful with her life.

This is the third time in a row she has skipped this class. And various times before that. All she does is sleep, sleep, and more sleep. Then she goes to the gym and acts like a boss for lifting weights in her man outfit. Well done, you work out. But you’re not doing what you came to school to do!!! It is so frustrating. I hate not turning the light on or having music playing midday! So guess what? I’m going to hop in the shower, then afterwards, shit’s gonna be loud. I will do my passive aggressive shit and slam stuff around. I am so damn pathetic. But seriously, what am I gonna do? Tell her she can’t sleep anymore? It’s ridiculous. She went to bed almost an hour before me, yet I was up at 8:15 getting ready for class. WTF.

Lesson for the Day: Don’t be a lazy pig. It’s really annoying.

Flirting With Frustration, Among Other Things…

Something I have come to realize is that it is damn near impossible to last an entire weekend at home without drama of some sort. I love my family to death, but there is always something.

Me in my room senior year, but edgier. Hahah.

I guess it’s really my fault. You see, in high school I upset them by spending 97% of my free time hiding up in my room. However, that really screwed me over for college when I’d have almost no alone time in my room. Anyways, my seclusion always hurt their feelings. They didn’t get why I didn’t want to be involved more. Then I went off to college and realized just how much I missed them, especially after all my together time with my mom after my back injury. So when I’d come home, I would always feel bad if I had made plans. I always made sure to plan to spend at least one full day with the family, even though I was always worried about the drama.

Now, I don’t feel bad anymore. It’s not out of an obligatory feeling that I don’t make plans. It’s out of my wanting to spend time with them. Particularly with Bemis around, I spend a lot more time downstairs and interacting. Sadly, I think this has begun to take a turn for the worse. My little brother is quite honestly a mess right now; he is obsessed with eating and refuses to turn in homework (could result in his failing of sixth grade, nice!). Spending so much time with him makes these issues very obvious to me, and out of concern, I make comments here and there. He, being the overdramatic pre-teen he is, runs and slams his door behind him, crying out “I wish you wouldn’t come home so much!” Awh, really feeling the love here.

The female version of my brother. But clothed.

Basically, what I’m saying is this… I want to come home. I want to help out. I want to see my family. But now it’s like every time I do, there’s turmoil, drama, a massive blowout. I can’t take it. My mom herself said that if she was me, she wouldn’t ever come home. I hate to have that feeling. I don’t want to avoid them, or my pup. But now I am getting so frustrated with everything. Almost every night this weekend, there was some issue with my brother. I am just so tired of hearing it. Plus, he does a ton of little things that really bother me. While he knows they bother me, he doesn’t care. He likes to strip down in the middle of the living room, tossing his clothes wherever (sorry, don’t want to see him in just boxers 24/7; he’s hitting puberty, it’s weird), he does the same with his shoes, so then Bemis goes running after them and it’s somehow my fault, he refuses to take responsibility and fix those sort of things he does.

I’m frustrated. And sad. And realizing that this really isn’t my home anymore. I don’t live here. Adjusting to this changing family dynamic is hard. It will only be harder when I come home this summer. Hell, I can’t even think about that. I’m worried enough about Spring Break right now. I know my parents mean well, but it’s my brother who is the problem. So I don’t know what to do…

Oh, and the best part of all of this? The one person I’d always talk to about this kinda stuff? Yeah, I just broke up with him. While we agreed to be friends, he doesn’t really want to hear my voice, at all. At least that’s what I heard in his when I called a few minutes ago. Wah, I hate how reliant I can be on others.

If I was super dramatic, I'd say this is how I feel right now.

Lesson for the Day: When you get frustrated, remove yourself from the situation.

P.S. When I hit “girl on computer” in Google, I got a male Sim eating at his desk. It made my night. The Sims honestly was how I spent a majority of my time from middle school until my junior year. Such an amazing and addictive game.

Honestly Baffled.

This is a more valid excuse to skip class than staying up on FB.

Here’s the thing… you go to college to learn, to prepare for your future, to learn to be independent, and in some cases, to party.

But here’s what I don’t get… what’s the point of wasting your money away on college if you don’t ever go to class and don’t party either. Usually, people fall on either of the two extremes or find balance in the middle. I can see skipping classes because you party too much. I can see not going to parties because you study a lot. But I don’t see why you would go to college to skip class, hang out in the library, and never go to a party. And guess what? That’s Judy for you.

Today is Thursday, that means that she has one class today. It’s the same way on Tuesdays. This Tuesday was the first time I skipped my nine o’clock class. I was exhausted and couldn’t possibly dragged myself out fo bed. Then I got up, showered, and dressed before Judy even thought about getting out of bed. When her class started at eleven and it was already past ten. Suddenly, the monster arises and asks to watch Boy Meets World until she has to get ready. I say that’s fine and she turns it on. After a few minutes, she turns it off. I assumed to get ready. But no. Instead she grabbed her laptop and sat in her bed. I left the room after eleven. She was still there.

HAH. Now you can match this guy. Yeah, you're cool.

Coming back from my class this morning, I hoped and prayed I would find our door locked. But to no avail. She was passed out in her bed, still. Much after eleven. The best part is how butch she looks. Haha. Sounds mean, but she thinks tie dye is the shit. She has tie dye socks, shirts, and now boxers. Yes, Judy and her friend with questionably short, spiky hair went to Walmart and bought mens tank tops (aka not attractive in the slightest) and boxers then proceeded to tie dye them. Can I again re-state how good I am with gay people? I don’t want to come across as a homophobe. I would just rather people be honest. If you’re gay, SAY SO. I’d like to know that I shouldn’t be changing in front of you. I would also like to stay for the record, the only people other than hippies out in the fields with this love of tie dye is my mom’s good friend from nursing school and her partner. I love love love Annette. She forced alcohol down my mom’s throat quite literally, danced her ass off on the beach to the Steve Miller band, and has the raspiest voice of anyone you’ll ever meet.

THIS is what I foresee in Judy's future.

Wah, there was another bunny trail. I guess that’s why I called this my ramblings? Hah. So I’ll get down to the point.  I can’t stand how Judy acts like I never leave the room or puts me down for my lesser course load (again, due to SURGERY bitch), when she can’t get her lazy ass up for ONE class at eleven. Might I also mention how she can’t even clean up her side?? Clothes are always overflowing from her laundry basket onto the floor, used tissues galore, and random empty bottles crowd her desk. Yes, it’s great you’re going to the gym more. But guess what? That’s not what college is for. Ackk, I am starting a countdown until I move out. Whenever I move out, I’m tempted to give her the link to my blog.

Lesson for the Day: College is for school. Not for sleeping all the time. If you’re gonna go to college and waste it, stop having your parents pay at least. They shouldn’t be going into possible debt to let your lazy ass stay up all night on Facebook and Tumblr.

So Sweet, So Virginal.

So sensual, so seductive.

A few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to see a video of this couple from TLC’s “The Virgin Diaries”. (See video HERE)

"And then, you'll take off your robe. And I'll take off mine... and then we'll do foreplay"

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s great to wait til your married to have sex. However, saving your first kiss, for your wedding day, in front of everyone?! That sounds like a horrible plan. And why is that? Oh, because you will end up looking like them! Appearing completely awkward and uncomfortable as you eat each other’s faces off. No thank you. My first kiss was beyond awkward. The guy was a good three inches shorter than me and thought sitting down would be the best way for our kiss to go well. HAH. Instead it led to me laughing in his face repeatedly, which I blame on my nerves and lack of social skills back in ninth grade. Then when it all finally worked out, he left saying, “Don’t worry, it’ll get better…” Hm, yeah. Wonderous! Haha. Then with my last boyfriend, I stole his first kiss during a viewing of Hannah Montana: The Movie. Again, an awkward experience.

The creepy dad completes the video. "They don't have any idea what they're in for..."

Basically, first kisses suck. So why would someone choose to wait for an audience?! I don’t get it. I don’t really have anything else to say about the matter, but I felt like this video was too hysterical not to share.

Lesson for the Day: Accept that your first kiss will be awkward. But it does get better. Just don’t tell the person that, or they’ll feel like shit. *cough* Thanks, Mustache *cough*

 

*Mustache is an old nickname for my first boyfriend. If you don’t know me personally, you won’t understand why my ninth grade self came up with the nickname.

Thank God For Katy Perry!

Before I would have said thank God for Taylor Swift, but thank GOD I’ve grown out of her uber-dramatic break up songs.

"Woe is meeee! I'm going to stayyy depressed"

I’ve only ever had two boyfriends in my life, yet another reason why this break up should be viewed as a good thing. I need to get out and experience a lot of guys so I know what kind of guy I should marry. Anyways, both times my first boyfriend, Mustache (as Rae and I used to call him), and I broke up I clung to Taylor Swift. I have honestly said, “SHE KNOWS MY LIFE!” So embarrassing. So whether madly in “like” or heartbroken, she “knew” me. Then my latest ex and I got together. Again, Taylor Swift came up. Before we dated, I related our friendship to “The Way I Loved You” like I should want him, but I still wanted my douchey ex-boyfriend, the midget man. But then I realized wait, I actually like this guy. And voila! “Mine” was released. Again, she was in tune to me. However, after our last break up when I turned to “The Story of Us” and “Last Kiss”, I realized Taylor Swift isn’t who I should rely on. Yes, she has great songs. But they are all incredibly sappy and mopey and woe is me. That’s not a healthy way to survive a break up. I’m not even going to cover what Mayday Parade songs I would listen to. Mention “All Hail the Heartbreaker” by The Starting Line and you’ll be slitting your wrists in no time. It’s depressing as hell. Therefore, I’m deleting it off of my iTunes.

Gets dumped. Dyes hair blue. Kicks ass. LOVE HER.

So this time around, I’m relying on my idol. Yup, Katy Perry. She released “Part of Me” on Tuesday, though I already had an illegal copy (shhh!). It’s like she knew. Hah. JUST KIDDING! But seriously, Katy Perry just went through a very public break up. This is after professing a storybook romance and dedicated most of her last album to him. Yet, she’s taken it and come out stronger for that. That’s my goal. I keep getting reassured that my choice was the right one, so despite my 24-inspired dream featuring the ex and the sinking feeling I got when I woke up, I’m sticking to my guns. I deserve better. I need better. If he will let me go and not fight to be better for me, then I guess that proves it.

The point of this whole entry is this: Good music can completely change your mood. When you’re upset, listening to depressing music will only make you damn near suicidal. Listen to happy music, fake it til you feel it. That’s why I love Katy Perry’s new song. It’s not sad, it’s just like these are the facts and you can’t destroy me, I’m stronger than this. Hm. I’m tempted to share lyrics… I think I shall. Bear with me, please!

“You took my light, you drained me down. But that was then and this is now. Now look at me.”

“Throw your sticks and your stones, throw your bombs and your blows. But you’re not gonna break my soul. This is the part of me that you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no.”

“Now look at me I’m sparkling, a firework, a dancing flame. You’ll never put me out again. I’m glowin’ oh whoa.”

Again: DO NOT go the Mayday Parade route.

Lesson for the Day: In the words of Mayday Parade, “it’s called break up ’cause it’s broken”. There’s a reason for what you did. So don’t dwell in the pain by listening to sappy love songs or horrendous break up songs. Listen to empowering songs. Songs that say, “HEY! YEAH YOU! You did the right thing.” Then dance your arse off. Forget the pain, focus on the positive. Things will be okay one day.

P.S. This is easier said than done. If I follow my own advice, I’m ruling out 2/3 of my current music library.

Expectations Are Bad, Mmmkay?!

So yesterday was Valentine’s Day; The day of the year when women get all excited and men get afraid.

Being in a long distance relationship is hard. It is even harder when you’re getting various opinions from everyone around you. That difficulty only increases when your loved one turns distant and irritable.

It sucks.

I have had a rough, hectic, and stressful last few weeks. Thankfully, I have still managed to find ways to spend less time holed up in my room and out socializing. But yet, stress persists. When I get stressed, I rely even more on my loved ones to help calm me down. No, I’m not asking them to take it on themselves or be my therapist. But just by calling and talking to people I love helps tremendously. Lately, that has been less and less my boyfriend and more and more the one friend who I almost completely wrote off last year (please don’t take offense, you know you’re my rock now). When the person you rely on for almost everything becomes distant, it really affects you. My mom always told me I needed to find happiness in myself, by myself. I agreed, but yet I always relied on Paul’s constant reassurance for it. Yet, recently the only time I hear his voice is when I call (and usually he’s not too happy that I did) or when he calls to say he’ll be in an area with little to no service. It hurt. Hearing his voice put an instant smile on my face. Why was I no longer doing that for him?

"OH MY GOODNESS. I can't believe my boyfriend was sweet enough to get me _____"

So then comes Valentine’s Day. Of course, we had been fighting the night before. But still I had hoped for something. Facebook killed me all day as girls posted about their “ahhhmazing” boyfriends and the wonderful gifts they received and boys bragged about how lucky they were to have them as their girl. Finally, I got a text from him. It simply read, “Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you.” And nothing more. I was crushed. This was the guy who wrote me pages and pages of sweet notes when we first started dating, and now this was all I was worth? That’s when it hit me. Things had changed. And not for the better. Still I was hopeful. Due to recent events, I was unable to visit him at his school this weekend, so I called to ask him to go home next weekend to finally meet my puppy. When he finally called back, I was greeted with a cold voice demanding, “WHAT?!” Ouch. It used to be okay to call him. It used to make him happy that I wanted to see him. No longer.

Self-explanatory.

It honestly breaks my heart. But I did what I had to and mustered up the courage to tell him that if things couldn’t change, I couldn’t do this anymore. The worst part of it all? He didn’t say he would change. He didn’t say he would work on things. He didn’t say I was worth fighting for. He hung up and never looked back.

So folks, today, the day after the romantic holiday of the year, I sit alone at my desk and hope for brighter days ahead. Paul’s response proves to me that I was right. Our relationship had changed. I didn’t have the worth I once did to him. Plus, I have felt single ever since my surgery thanks to our lack of communication. I suppose that means I made the right decision.

Lesson for the Day: Be strong. Sometimes making the right choice hurts like a bitch. But in the long run, it will probably be just fine. At least I hope.

Piercing Time.

HAH. I was never that calm.

I’ve never been great with needles. Back in kindergarten, I was the kid who needed three nurses to hold me down as I squirmed and kicked. Over the years, I realized I could no longer act that way, but still the nervous anticipation always sets me off. I know how it looks… a nineteen year old, sweating with a slight nervous tapping of my feet as I sit and wait. It’s ridiculous! Thankfully, I’m fine with shots now. It’s no big deal. Getting blood drawn? A whole different story. While my recent experiences have been better, I will always remember the two very bad ones. One happened when I was four. I had weird shooting pains through my abdomen in the middle of the night and was taken to the ER. We still don’t know why that happened, all I know is that was the first time I remember having my blood drawn. Not fun. I kicked and screamed and carried on. This was the only memory I had when I had to get it done again in sixth grade. There I was, a ball of nerves, freaking out as I waited. Fortunately for me, I got to hear my then four-year old brother bawling his eyes out from outside the lab. By the time I was in, I was mess. I sat down, and nervously glanced around. No moral support from my mom because she had to tend to my brother. Finally, the nurse turns to me and starts off. The needle is in my skin a full thirty seconds before she goes, “Oh wait… you have a deep vein.” WTF?! Then she proceeded to stab it further into my skin. Then vial after vial after vial was taken from me. Ugh. Not a fan.

Yeah, I was sooo edgy with my cartilage piercing....

Well, see that fear made me very nervous about getting my ears pierced the first time. But I was fine. Due to a story to long to fit in here, I had to get them re-pierced later on. My anxiety set in again. I had been fine in elementary school, yet here I was in middle school thinking it would be something horrific. It wasn’t. I even made it through one of my friends piercing second holes in each in high school. Then a year and a half ago, the edgier side of me wanted to come out by getting a very mainstream and tame cartilage piercing. That thing hurt like a mother. I had barely eaten that day, first mistake. And I had no idea what to expect. I sat there, holding my moms hand, as the lady said, “Okay, now this is the worst part”. Not sure what she was doing, I’m assuming putting the captive ball in, because then right after she said that and sent shooting pain through my ear, I’d hear a faint bouncing shortly followed by, “Ohmygosh, I’m so sorry….” then, “Okay, now this really is the hardest part”. The dropping of the ball, literally, happened at least three times. I started feeling nauseous and light-headed. I swear, had she not gotten it in the fourth time, I would have been gone, knocked out on the floor. My cartilage has been a major bitch this past year, always tender and sore. But apparently, I’m almost in the clear now.

Honestly, this was one of the pictures that sold me on a nose piercing.

Once I graduated from my super conservative Christian school, I decided I wanted to fulfill my life long dream of getting a nose ring. Haha. Just kidding, but I really did want one. Out of respect for my great-grandparents, I waited until after my annual summer visit to see them. Due to the timing, I eventually manned up after getting my epidural cortisone injection. I didn’t know what to expect other than my eyes would water. Oh lordy, did they water. It was a momentary pinch, and voila water works followed by gushing blood! The look on Rae’s face as the needle rested inside was a bit unsettling, but okay. I was done. Later, I watched Judy get her nose pierced. The needle was a tad large. Ick. At least I wouldn’t have to do that again, but wait…

Thanks to my surgery, my nose closed up on me. So this past Friday, I went in with my friend, Georgia, and her boyfriend to get hers done for the first time and mine re-done. The piercer instructed me not to watch Georgia getting hers done, just to be safe. Then when it was my turn, Georgia grabbed my hand with her still sweaty palms, told me it’d be okay, and watched me get mine done. Though I had been nervous about scar tissue left over, the piercer reassured me I would be fine. Still, I was nervous. I was really glad Georgia didn’t choose to stand with her boyfriend and instead sat with me. Slight pinch, and I was done. However, I’d forgotten just how much my eyes had watered last time. It was like I had just finished Steel Magnolias. I was a mess. The ever so kind piercer reassured me that I was looking like her typical costumer, nothing unusual. She cleaned me up and I was ready to go back to the dorm to await the arrival of Paul, my boyfriend.

To be honest, I pictured it like this. I don't like "emo" boys.

Hours and hours passed and finally Paul showed up. Right before we went to bed, he turned to me and said, “I want to get my lip pierced”. You don’t realize how shocking this was to me. Yes, he had adopted much more of the skater look after we had begun dated. Yes, he had considered a tattoo down the line. But every time I mentioned my love of small gages on guys, he shot me down. He even told me not to get my nose pierced, though he liked it afterwards. While not entirely clean cut, he was a virgin to the piercing needle. I dismissed it as just late night thoughts, and was again shocked as he asked me about where I got my nose re-done. He was serious. And not just a stud either, he wanted a lip ring. I was unsure of how I’d like the result and ever so kindly told him so. Yet, he pressed on. Next thing I knew, it was five and we were again where I had been the day before. After much deliberation, he handed the piercer his ID and then we walked back to the room. I could see the fear and nervousness in his eyes, he had absolutely nothing to compare it to. I decided now was time to be the supportive girlfriend he deserved, grabbed his hand, and told him it’d be no big deal. Real quick and painless. He took it like a champ. Yes, afterwards he looked around like, “What did I just do?” But he was fine overall. Last night he felt some pain, and this morning again, he’s started to fear why he has pain. An infection in such a prominent piercing would be horrific. To be completely honest, I thought it’d look stupid. I never could picture him with anything but maybe some small gages. He just didn’t seem like the type. And I mean, I’ve never liked lip rings. But you know what? It’s growing on me. I think the main reason I like it is because he did it all for him. Not anyone else. I can’t wait to see what his parents say when they find out. Six weeks of recovery either means a shock for them or a long time without going home.

Lesson for the Day: Even if you don’t always agree, be supportive. Unless it’s a crime or something intense like that.