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Tuesday, 09 February 2010

  • Dream Dates.

                    Though Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, my boyfriend I have decided that we’re going to take a new approach to the holiday and not get each other gifts. We prefer to save some money and go out on a really nice dinner date the next chance we both have a night off, since he is currently working two jobs and I’m in school and working. That’s fine by me. I swear! I’m not like the girls those Valentine’s Day “Myths” they tell on the radio describe. I really don’t care. As long as I get a card with a nice thoughtful note in it and a night to snuggle on the couch, I’m fine.

                    However, just because I’m okay with simplicity on this grossly overly commercialized holiday doesn’t mean that a girl can’t dream. Recently, in my head, I dreamed up several perfect date scenarios for Valentine’s Day.

    1)      A video game date with Seth Cohen

     

     

    Ever since I saw his cute head topped with those dark brown curls and that smirk of a grin on the pilot episode of The OC, I was in love. Something about his dorkiness made him such a sweetheart in my book. Being 14, or however old I was when that show came out,  I used to wish I was Summer Roberts, the girl he crushed on since elementary school. What a lucky chick! And she couldn’t even see how great he was. All those years he spent playing Grand Theft Auto by himself while Summer got drunk at Holly’s beach house, I would have been right there on the floor with him, controller in hand. We could go to a Death Cab concert together. I’d still do it if I had the chance, and if he was actually a real person.

     

    2)       A party date with Chuck Bass

     

     

    When he first appeared on screen in the early episodes of Gossip Girl, he was a sleazy guy, trying to take advantage of a young girl’s innocence. I was repulsed. How could a rich guy living on the Upper East Side with the rest of New York’s elite need to take more than what he’s already got? He was such a spoiled brat. It wasn’t until I saw him fall for Blair Waldorf that I realized he had a heart….a very kind heart at that.  He came became one studly "Mother-Chucker." He would do anything for her, and for a former selfish scumbag, that’s quite the change. He’s one of the guys that just restores your faith in the male half of the human race. And who wouldn’t want to be taken around NYC in a stretch limousine with the leader of a major corporation? Besides, any guy that can look good in a scarf has something special about him. It’s a scene with glamour written all over it, and if the guy truly cares about you, it’s even better.

     

    3)      Lunch at the office with Jim Halpert

     

    You’re probably thinking by now, that I’m some lunatic, saying that I’d be happy playing with video games one minute and then driving around in a limo the next. Well, yes, you did read correctly. I would love to have lunch at Dunder Mifflin with Jim Halpert of Valentine’s Day…providing it was before his season six marriage to Pam.  I don’t want to be a home wrecker. There’s something quirky about him. He’s got quick wit and sharp tongue. I love the way he banters with his close friends. He can also establish a sense of normalcy in the crazy world his boss makes the workplace. Who wouldn’t want to be hanging out with a guy who can have a major effect on the atmosphere in which he resides? It’s an awesome talent. I’d hope that I could pick up a few tricks from him.

    So there you have. My three dream dates. Am I caught in a world of fiction? Perhaps.  But on a sappy day, there’s nothing wrong with a good daydream. =)

Sunday, 07 February 2010

  • Why Did I Cry?

    Spending yesterday snowed in was one boring day, if I may say so. I didn't really do much of anything. A little homework, a little eating, a little chatting with friends. Actually, I ate more than a little and I definitely feel sick to my stomach this morning. Why the heck do people eat so much when they're bored?

    Anyway, to cure my boredom, I decided to have a TV and movie marathon. I parked my butt on the couch and watched reruns of I Love Lucy and The Office. Those shows got old quickly, so I decided to put on a movie. My choice? A good ol' RomCom, The Proposal, staring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. There's something about him that just melts my heart, no matter what movie he's in. It's probably those dashing good looks and that beautiful smile.

    So, I find myself laughing through the movie. My favorite character is played by Betty White. The grandmother is just hysterical. Gotta love Gammy sometimes, you know?

    After laughing for an hour and a half straight through, I find myself in tears at the end because it's just so perfect. The guy falls in love with the woman he used to believe was the spawn of Satan. What's even better is that the Ice Queen of a woman falls in love with the man she thinks is a pathetic and worthless assistant.

    SO WHY THE HECK DID THAT MAKE ME CRY?

    Well, folks, with some thinking last night, I figured it out. I cried because it's absolutely wonderful to know that despite all of our flaws, no matter how many we have, someone somewhere can fall in love with us. It made me cry because I realize that no matter what, there is most definitely hope for the hopeless. I suppose I am a bleeding heart romantic, but I really do believe that there is a match out there in the world for everyone, that love will find even the lonliest of people. And it was beautiful to see that happen, even if it was at the cheesy end of a modern, funny film.

    So, if want a good laugh, if you want a nice "awwwww" moment, or if you just want to gawk at Ryan Reynolds, I definitely recommend this movie to you.

    Love always. =)

Thursday, 04 February 2010

  • Social Networking Cleanse.

    When I was 18 and applying to colleges, I can't remember how many of the student tour guides at different schools suggested registering for Facebook and adding other potential students to the college, so that when I arrived in the Fall of 2008, I would already have some connections and wouldn't be that awkward girl sitting all alone in the corner. At first, I wondered what "Facebook" was. I'd never used it. At that point, I was still a loyal MySpace-er, posting comments on my friend's walls, taking dumb mirror shots and writing an inexperienced blog or two that would go unread because no one goes on MySpace to blog. Someone was suggesting that I use a social networking site for actually networking ? Who would have thought of such a thing.

    Well, after one tour, I remember going home, registering for Facebook and searching the local college networks, adding everyone and saying, "Oh, Rowan '12?! Me too!" Conversations never really went any further than that. I wasn't really gaining friends. They were just pseudo-friends, smiling faces I could awkwardly say hello to as I briskly walk past them on campus while dashing from class to class.

    In fact, now that I'm two years into college life and an education major, my professors are actually telling me I need to do everything I can to get off Facebook, and if I don't, then I need to do some sort of virtual Master Cleanse, wiping all questionable content from my page. I can understand this. I don't want my potential future students to be Googling my name, and find my page, seeing what I was for Halloween or what my plans are  for my date on Friday. Those are things I can save for my much more personal and much more anonymous blog....not that I even really get that personal on here, anyway.

    So, I've changed all of my privacy settings. No longer can friends of friends or other network members scroll through my tagged photos and see who I've been spending time with. No longer can the entire universe keep tabs on my tweet-like status updates. No one but my friends can see my e-mail address, and therefore, no one from the outside world can contact me, unless I make the effort first.

    I've also untagged those embarrassing photos. You know the ones, the ones your friends post of you in the ugliest pajamas, falling all over yourself after a late night and little teensy bit of alcohol. Yes, I'm a lightweight and can get sloppy pretty quickly. There's no reason anyone, in particular potential future employers, needs to see those.

    Truthfully, I'm hoping that I'll rely on this social networking site less and less. It's not like I need to make friends. I have a few good friends. That's enough for me. I don't need to go everywhere with a gigantic crowd of people. I don't really need a website to keep in touch with them. I already have two ways to do that from my cell phone-- text messages and phone calls.

    I can't wait to see how much more free time I'll have once I stop face-stalking people I don't even really care about. It's like a drug, these efforts will be my digital rehab because we all know that if I try to quit cold turkey, I'll be back "liking" status updates in an hour.

Sunday, 31 January 2010

  • No More Spoons Under the Pillow

    I can still remember nights like last night when I was younger. Around nine o'clock, after taking a shower and having my mom help to dry my hair, because I didn't have the patience to do it all myself, I would snuggle into cute, matching flannel pajamas and climb into bed. I would leave my blinds open enough to see just below the streetlight that stands tall outside my window. Even though my mother would come in, kiss me goodnight and wish me sweet dreams, I'd lie awake for hours watching the small flurries of a light mid-winter snow dance from the sky to the empty street. I'd watch the snow under the streetlight most of all, because there I could get the most accurate sense of just hard how the flakes were coming down and just how big they were.

    Sometimes, I'd think the snow fall was getting steadier, so I'd quietly hop out of bed, tiptoe down our creaky stairs, and open the kitchen drawer in search of a spoon. When I clutched the cold metal in my hand, I would sneak my way back up and jam the spoon beneath both of my pillows. I'd quickly undress, shivering ever so slightly, to turn my pajamas inside out and then I'd hop back into bed as though I'd never arranged for any superstitious acts to occur.

    I did all of this in hopes for a great big snow fall, in hopes of a snow day. I followed this silly, childhood traditions with the idea that in the morning, I'd get to sleep later and then dress in my gigantic pink snow-proof pants to sled and build snowmen.

    Now, I have no doubt that I have grown up, because snow falls are no longer magical. They are just a pain in the ass.

    I hate seeing the first flurries glide down from a gray sky. I immediately groan and wait for the snow shower to follow. I have to go outside fifteen minutes earlier than I would have in clear weather to brush the irritating white powder from the windows and the roof of my car. I have to drive to work or school 25 miles per hour the entire way, getting angry as the person with a gargantuan SUV with four wheel drive follows about an inch and a half behind me because their truck can navigate the snow better than my Ford Taurus. I have to sit on the edge of my seat the whole trip, praying that I don't have to stop short and find a Suburban in my trunk.

    I hate having to dress in five layers of clothes to take a shovel that, when filled with snow, is much to heavy for my one hundred and ten pound self. My dad used to do the shoveling. Now, he works too much. He's not home to get the shoveling done, and my 17 year old brother always seems to have massive amounts of homework on the days the driveway is covered in this evil white stuff. I come in soaked, with a back ache, just dying for a massage that no one will give me.

    I hate that when the first few flurries begin to fall, everyone and their mother comes to the grocery store, backing up the lines and then yelling at me because they have to wait to purchase they're milk, bread and eggs. I don't know what it is about snowstorms that makes everyone feel like they need French Toast. With modern technology people, you will not be snowed in. Worse comes to worst, you can survive a day or two without a sandwich. I'm sure you have nine million different things in your freezer just waiting to be defrosted. No one has ever died from lack of peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

    The magic of snow is gone. It is one of my worst enemies. And it's not like I can go play in it, either. I haven't been able to find a pair of pink snow-proof pants in my size anytime recently. Bah humbug, snow.

Saturday, 30 January 2010

  • When You Make Me Mad.

    Honey, when you make me mad,
    I want to punch you in the nose.
    Honey, when you make me mad,
    I want to stomp on all your toes.

    Honey, when you make me cry,
    I want to slap you in the face.
    Honey, when you make me cry,
    I want to spray your eyes with mace.

    Honey, when you laugh at me,
    I want to make you fall.
    Honey, when you laugh at me,
    I want to knee you in the balls.

     

    Needless to say, date night was an epic fail, and at the moment, I'm just a little bitter. =)