Under Pressure

So I have a story that's due in a little less than 12 hours.  Said story must be 10-12 pages.  How many do I have?  Approximately 1.  This is my blog post for the day.

A Letter to Sleep

Dear Sleep (or Slumber or Lengthy Nap Time),

I'm really glad we're friends.  We haven't had too many difficulties during the past years, mostly because I've kind of established my bed as a place for sleeping rather than a place for doing other activities (get your mind out of the gutter).  I've been told that if you do homework or read in bed that it stimulates your brain and you won't be able to fall asleep as easily because your body's accustomed to working on intellectual things in bed, so...it won't let you fall asleep.  I don't know if this is true, but I tend to think so because Sleep, you and I get along pretty well.

Except I really don't like when you leave me right after I roll over.  This morning, I rolled over, I took the time to roll so that I was facing the only window in my little room, and my alarm went off.  You just stood up and left me in a lurch, whining under the comfort of my covers.  I really didn't want to wake up this morning.  It might have been because you and I were reunited a little later than usual, but absolutely positively did not want to wake up.

The only thing that's helping me cope with my losing you is the prospect of breakfast.  I can already smell the greasy cafeteria food breakfast delicious and my stomach's growling in anticipation.  And I can take home a muffin for tomorrow's breakfast, and maybe a banana that I can eat with peanut butter...my future prospects are looking pretty good.

But Sleep, I miss you.  A warm and cozy oblivious state in which I can dream of absolutely anything.  In fact, last night I dreamt that I was moving back into my residence hall, and I was driving a little car (backwards) into traffic.  Luckily I didn't hit anyone, so that was nice.

Sleep, can we be friends forever?  Just do me a favor.  Please don't follow me to class.  I saw you in business statistics yesterday, and it was a very near thing, we almost had that heart-to-heart conversation that I was hoping for, but I had to resist because otherwise I'm not sure how I would learn what a null hypothesis is.  (Although let's not kid ourselves, I still don't know what a null hypothesis is.)  And then you followed me to Management, which was bad, because it was warm in that classroom, and I was bored with talking about goodness only knows what...

In short, I think we're doing pretty well, so let's continue this relationship.  Although I warn you now that I may sleep with Nap Time.

Cheers,
Brianna

"Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day."

- Friedrich Nietzche

Alphabet

(I found a prompt that told me to write a blog entry that's 26 sentences long using the letters of the alphabet.  Next, I'm going to do a post that's entirely in questions, it'll be great.  Ready?  GO!)

All I've ever talked about on this blog is writer's block, writing, or things going on in my life.
Because I guess that's all I really have to go on, I mean, I haven't done much outside of write and participate in schooling things for the majority of my life.
Can't really imagine what it's going to be like out in the real world, although my prospects seem pretty alright right now.
Disney World might not be the most realistic place to start out my life outside of college, but that's what I'm going to do!
Everything about the real world, including the roommate situation for the Disney College Program pretty much terrifies me.
Fear's natural, right?
Grasping the whole "Future" situation has proven tougher than I might have thought originally, in the light of all this fear stuff.
Having friends definitely helps for the most part, just not when they're hopping on the "I can't wait to get out of  here!" train.
I find that sad and mildly irritating.
Just enjoy where we are right now for a while, please?
Kiss slowly and savor those Present Moments.
(Like I didn't have enough random capitalization already...Present Moments.)
My boss says that the capitalization of "The Future" is making me more afraid/nervous/freaked out about the whole thing.
Not to discount random capitalization, but I'm pretty sure I'm just doing it to be a drama queen.
Oh, and because I like the attention just a little bit...
Pretty much.
Queen of drama, right here, especially when it comes to The Future.
Really though, I have my apprehensions, but at the same time I'm getting the sense that everything's going to turn out in the end.
Sounds cheesy, I know, but it really might not be so bad.
To think that I've gone from flinching every time the word "graduation" comes up in conversation to just wincing a little.
(Understatement.)
Very well, we're getting towards the end of this post where the letters are going to get increasingly silly.
We're just going to have to wrap this up in a little bit.
(Xylophone.)
You didn't see that one coming, now did you?
Zounds!

"My alphabet starts with this letter called yuzz.  It's the letter I use to spell yuzz-a-ma-tuzz.  You'll be sort of surprised what there is to be found once you go beyond 'Z' and start poking around!"

- Dr. Seuss

Modern

This morning when I saw the prompt from Sunday Scribblings was "modern," the first thing I thought was of "Thoroughly Modern Millie," a musical set in 1922, an extremely modern age.

I really like this musical because it's so silly.  I've seen it twice, each time it was a high school production, and they were both fantastic.  I've never been in it, and I'm not really sure who I would play if I were in it...so it's probably better this way.

The dictionary tells me that "modern" has to do with present and recent time.  But another definition says that "modern" is everything after the Middle Ages.  I find this really amusing if only because sure, today is a time after the Middle Ages, but "everything after the Middle Ages" covers quite a bit of time, if I'm remembering correctly.  So that means that yes, Jane Austen is modern.

That means Shakespeare is modern too, right?  Hm.  I have a couple classmates who would argue differently because they don't understand what the man's trying to say in all that language dripping with imagery.  But my classmates would probably lose this argument because Shakespeare's English is actually considered "modern English."  Everyone who says that Shakespeare is "Old English" is not only wrong, but has never heard old English before and how not like today's English it sounds. I'm going to see if I can find a video recording of old English to illustrate my point...I tried to find a video that didn't have a creepy voice...I'm not sure I succeeded.  Heh.

So does that sound like English to you?  Heck, does that even sound like Shakespeare?  Does that sound like Hamlet?  What's kinda neat is that Middle English (as opposed to Old English) sounds a little bit more like modern English.  I know this because last spring I took a class on Geoffrey Chaucer and read a bunch of The Canterbury Tales in Middle English.  It was pretty awesome.  But Middle English has more of a melodic sound than modern English does, it reminds me of a mix of Gaelic with the musicality of the language and of French with the pronunciation of some of the words.

Point being, as much as people would like to think otherwise and it's crazy, but Shakespeare?  He's modern.

Thank you to Sunday Scribblings for the prompt: Modern

"Everything today is thoroughly modern,

check your personality,

everything today makes yesterday slow,

better face reality..."

- "Thoroughly Modern Millie"

Frozen Diners (I mean...dinners)

Q:  How do you like frozen food?

A:  Cooked.

Q:  Really?  That's all you're going to write?

A:  Yup.

Q:  This is supposed to be a blog post, not a three line question and answer session...

A:  It was actually---

Q:  Oh shut up and write.

A:  So.  Frozen food.  I've eaten it.  Quite a bit, actually.  When I was little we used to have those soft pretzels that you could cook in the microwave.  Those were frozen.  And then there were frozen waffles and frozen French toast, and those little cinnamon toast things that Eggo came out with that were delicious and you could never have just one.  Frozen food's just easy, so I can see the appeal of it.  At the same time it's strange to me that you can freeze food and then warm it back up and it still tastes okay.  Or sometimes better than okay.

When I was little it was a really big deal when we got to eat TV dinners.  I remember seeing the commercials for Kid Cuisine and asking Mom if we could have it.  I thought it was really neat that it came with a dessert because dessert was never a sure thing with our dinners, it always depended on if we had cookies or ice cream or whatever families eat for dessert.  But with Kid Cuisine, you were promised a brownie, and you could even eat it first if you so chose...

Recently, while walking through the "frozen diner" section of our local world market place, Mom scoffed, "Haha, you silly kids thought TV dinners were a treat..."  And she really did laugh at that.  Because a TV dinner meant that Mom didn't have to cook that night.  Those nights were rare, but when they happened, it was when just me, Mom, and my brother were home, and it was usually accompanied by a movie.  Silly Mom, I just wanted the brownie...

One of my favorite frozen foods of all time are these tamales that my dad brings home from this special tamale place from his old district.  Yeah, I know, really specific, but they're delicious.  No joke, these little baby tamales are just about my favorite thing to eat when I'm not sure what to scrounge around for.  You can make them with chili or smother them with shredded cheese or throw them in a bowl with macaroni and cheese, the possibilities are truly endless.  You just put the little tamales on a place (still in the paper wrappings, mind you) and toss them in the microwave for 2:22 (yeah, that's a technical time) and out pops some deliciousness.  Oh tamales...

Most recent frozen food I've eaten?  If our school cafeteria doesn't serve us frozen food (which I'm not certain about, so I'm just not going to count that, only the things that I absolutely know were frozen at some point...maybe I'm optimistic?), then it was frozen pasta.  Or...most interestingly...frozen fish sticks.  Which doesn't sound interesting, but if we're talking about what was paired with these fish sticks, that's another thing entirely.  Fish sticks and custard.

It's a Doctor Who thing.  When the 10th Doctor (David Tennant) regenerates into the 11th Doctor (Matt Smith, who you see up above), he's hungry from his regeneration.  Nothing seems to satisfy him, and nothing seems to be not evil (like beans), so he finally settles on "fish custard."

I'm not generally a fan of fish sticks, or fish in general, so eating fish sticks wasn't all that appealing for me.  But I'd never had custard, so why not pair something that I'm not very fond of with something new and different?  Let me tell you right now, it was delicious.  Granted, I only got through four fish sticks before I got a little bored, but if I ever eat fish sticks again, it's going to be with custard.

"One morning, as I went to the freezer door, I asked my wife, 'What should I take out for dinner?'  Without a moment's hesitation, she replied, 'Me.'"

- Anonymous

Poetry Friday -- Initiation

Today is Poetry Friday.  This week I remembered, and I was really excited because this meant that I got to read a poem and talk about it rather than studying for my Statistics exam that I'm going to have to take at 1 PM today.  We're excited about this procrastination because it'll give me time to forget that I literally just looked at the answer sheet for my study guide and if I try doing the practice problems, I'll probably remember what the answer looked like, and that's akin to cheating.  On the study guide.

Thank you, Google!

Anyway, I'm going to talk about Matt Guenette's "Initiation" from his book American Busboy, a book which everyone should read because it's fantastic.  You should be able to see my review of it on Goodreads somewhere because my Stand Up Poetry class read it for class and I really enjoyed it.  PLUS, Guenette came to campus just last week, and I thought I would do him homage by reading and talking about one of his poems if I could find it online, and luckily I did...because otherwise I wouldn't have known what to write about.

"Initiation" is a poem about initiating a new busboy into the culture of the restaurant in which he is about to work.  The manager sticks his hand in breading and then into the frialator (which Chrome says isn't a word) to scare the busboy into obedience.  The second half of the poem assures the reader that the manager treats the busboy more kindly in the following days but turns around and slaps all the readers on the face with the twist at the end.

When you first look at "Initiation," you're struck by the arrangement of the poem.  It's not all left-aligned and it's not centered to make it look more like a poem.  It looks like it's all over the place, but really there has to be a method to the madness.  I'm not going to say that I know what that method is, but there's gotta be a method.  Perhaps just as the manager in the poem is initiating the new busboy, this poem is meant to initiate the reader into the world of this poem or maybe Guenette's poetry as a whole.  Somehow it shows us what to expect from the poems to follow.

One feature of this poem that I thought was particularly interesting is the semi-repetition.  You can see it in "The manager sticking / his hand in the breading.  The manager / sticking his breaded hand..."  First off, the second line ends with "the manager," bringing the reader's attention back to the manager with that line break directly after the title.  This happens two more times throughout the poem.  But like I was saying about the repetition-ish.  I can't really say it's true repetition because we're not getting the same exact thing twice, but "sticking his hand in the breading" and then "sticking his breaded hand" turns around some of our expectations.  Sure, we know that once the manager's put his hand in the breading his hand's going to be "breaded," but the way this is executed dances in front of us and flaunts its cleverness.  It's just a couple rearranged words, but it still intrigues us.

We've also got some dialogue going on here, and it's italicized, which is nice because frequently quotation marks distract and just look weird.  But the dialogue flows along rather nicely.  The only times when we hear the manager speak are when he's talking to the busboy and messing with him because we've got "Don't mess with me" and "Well he's on the phone now asking for you."  Guenette could have added in "Oh yeah, do you remember blowing bubbles when you were a kid?" but he didn't.  I can see why, because if he had then the poem would probably have been too dialogue-heavy, and also we'd hear the manager setting up his own joke, and that would detract from the manager's messing with the busboy.

And then there's "blowing bubbles."  There's not much more to say about that only because when I finally "got it" during class discussion, I may have made a revelation "OH MY GOSH!" exclamation and applauded Guenette's cleverness.  So upset I didn't get that on the first reading.

PROMPTS:
1.  Write about a time when you were initiated into something.  A club, a class, a friend group.  Fictionalize the horror, but no hazing...
2.  Take a tip from Matt Guenette and end your poem with an innuendo.  Because you know you want to.
3.  How about using some of that repetition.  Switch some things up a bit so it looks and sounds new, but you know the truth...you're just using the same words in a creative new order.  (Beware: Avoid sounding like Yoda.)
4.  Experiment with line breaks and re-aligning your poem.  Maybe it'll look strange at first, but see if you can justify (haha) your madness.
5.  Integrate dialogue.  Sparingly.  For effect.
6.  Create a character like the manager.  Menacing yet well-meaning.  See if you can create this character and  emphasize the fear that his subordinates feel.  Have you ever worked with a manager like that?

The manager sticking

his hand in the breading.  The manager

sticking his breaded hand

in the frialator just long enough 

so when he pulls it out

a frequently nightmare-looking thing encrusted

in sudden crust emerges.

- Matt Guenette, "Initiation"

(I had to remove the formatting so it looked pretty here, sorry!)

http://matthewguenette.com/

Wednesday it was a revolver

For my fiction class, we're required to write five openings for pieces of fiction and post them on our class blog.  I'm really impressed by some of the stuff we come up with, because I know if I had to come up with a story that belongs to my opening, I wouldn't know what I was writing.  Mostly because I know that it's just an opening, so I can do whatever craziness I want and I don't actually have to commit to it.  I was going to steal an opening from one of my classmates to write this blog post, but then I thought that might be creatively immoral, so instead I'm using one of my own lines.  Yay free writing!

On another note, Poem-a-Day March is in the planning stages.  I've asked my good friend Claire of Musings of a Rhythm Junkie to be my Poem Keeper for the month, and she's going to set me a challenge akin to my "love poem a week" challenge for February.  I'm really excited because it should be a good month!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday it was roses, Tuesday it was chocolates, Wednesday it was a revolver.  The boxes just showed up on Frank's doorstep with no explanation, stamp or return address.  He flattered himself to believe that they came from a secret admirer, but he would have hoped that she would reveal herself by now.

It had been three days and the most unexpected gift arrived on Frank's doorstep.  Packed in with those foam peanuts and some stray Easter grass was this old-time revolver.  Fully loaded.  No note, no nothing, just like the roses and the chocolates from the previous days.  Frank replaced the revolver in its nest and crossed to the front window, parting the curtains just enough to peek down the street.  Nothing unusual or out of place, just the neighbor kids playing in a sprinkler out on their front lawn.  And Mr. Perkins sitting on his front porch like he did every evening in July, paying homage to an older time when porch sitting was a pastime.

"What the hell..." Frank grumbled under his breath, lumbering back to the box on his kitchen table.  He sunk his hands in amongst (don't you dare tell me that isn't a word, Chrome, you know damn well it is) the packing peanuts and felt around for anything he might have missed.  His knuckles bumped against the cold metal of the revolver as he felt around on the bottom of the box where something smooth separated him from the divide between layers of cardboard.  Latching on to it, Frank brought the thing out into the light.

The thing just happened to be an envelope, making Wednesday's delivery starkly different from Monday's and Tuesday's.  The envelope held no markings, no postage, no address, except it was sealed with a tri-colored fleur-de-lis.  It looked like it had been made with a rubber stamp, the colors blending in to each other.  Frank tore open the envelope and pulled out the card, reading the single word of the message written upon it in a sophisticated script:  "Run."

Frank's eyebrows furrowed, and it almost looked as if he was about to take the message seriously and run.  His eyes held a terror he hadn't felt since he had broken up with his homicidal girlfriend for the last time, and his body tensed.  But just at the moment when it seemed like Frank would jump through his front window and start a mad spring to Somewhere Else, the envelope and the card fell from his hand.

"Pssh."  Frank let the air out of his mouth, looking at the card skeptically as if the card really thought he would take it seriously.

He stuck a cigarette between his lips and raised his lighter to the tip when there was a knock on the door.  For a brief moment, Frank regretted not listening to the card.  The moment immediately following that one brief moment told Frank that he was ridiculous.  Just as a precaution, Frank picked up the revolver and held it out in front of him as he turned the doorknob and wrenched open his front door.

The woman standing on his doorstep looked at the revolver and was unimpressed.  She didn't even flinch.  "What's that, a museum piece?"  She laughed at her own joke and sidled around Frank and into the house.

A Letter to Business Stats and Economics

Dear Business Stats and Economics,

You probably know me.  I'm the blonde girl sitting at the computer...front row, avoiding eye contact with her open e-mail as you write yourself all over the white board in black, sometimes green, marker.  You've definitely made eye contact with me, so you have to at least have registered that I'm around.  You with your unwavering scowl at the students who don't understand you.

Students like me.

When my professor's going over examples on the board and you're doing your happy little stats dance, I know what's going on.  The symbols on the board make sense to some extent.  Everything seems methodical.  When I'm reading the book, things make sense there too.  The bell charts look right, the examples stand out from the rest of the text, and I flatter myself that I might end up doing well in this class.

Then I attempt to do my homework.  And that's when I forget.  What's a t-distribution?  I'm not really sure what mu is for, but it's a good-looking symbol, I'd like to take it to the x bar before we catch some z's with the t-crit.  I'd like to see the curve on that bell and show it my degrees of freedom because the probability that I'll understand this problem is zero.  Might as well figure out something else to do.

It might be hopeless.  Which is okay, because my job prospects don't really involve numbers or statistics or the relationship between numbers and letters and statistics because thankfully I don't plan on being a math teacher.  I pray this never happens accidentally.  Business Stats and Economics, it'd be really great if I could Google you and you would tell me how you'd like to be done.  Would it help if I sprawled out across my tile in prime writhe position?  Or maybe cuddle up with my book on my bed?  Or maybe you'd just prefer the simple location of desk.  Because that's where my other homework gets done.  In theory.

Business Stats and Economics, I propose a truce.  I'll give you some lovin' if you'll be a little easier.

Love,
Brianna

"A study of economics usually reveals that the best time to buy anything is last year."

- Marty Allen

Mardi Gras

Today's Mardi Gras.  Fat Tuesday.  Paczki Day.  The day before Lent starts for Catholics.

From what little I know about Mardi Gras, it's supposed to be a day full of fun so once Lent starts, you can start giving up all of the things that you said you would.  Like pop, smoking, or chocolate.  It's also a day or a long celebration that involves flashing people for these strange plastic beads that are for some reason or another desirable.  The biggest thing about Mardi Gras is the partying.  Since it's a school night, I have no intention of partying.  I also have no intention of gorging myself so I can give up food things for Lent.

Having grown up Catholic, I know about Lent.  You're not supposed to eat meat on Fridays (only fish), and you're supposed to be taking the time to reflect on the sacrifice Jesus made for you.  Or is about to make for you.  The timeline gets a little fuzzy for me there.  I know the basics about Lent, but that's about it.  I'm a horrible pseudo-Catholic.

Now is when I stop being sacrilegious.

Part of what kept this blog going back in the day was a Lenten resolution to blog every day.  I've never really liked giving up things for Lent mostly because I tend to forget about it and end up eating chocolate or ice cream or chips and then I just give up, which kinda defeats the purpose of giving it up in the first place.  So for the last couple years I've tried to use Lent to start good habits rather than stopping bad ones.  We're going to try this again.  I resolve to write a blog post every day during Lent.  That's in addition to my Poem-a-Day Project which is still ongoing until who knows when.  So.  Blog post.  One.  Every day.  I plan on returning to the roots of this blog and use it for creative writing type deals:
- random questions and responses
- reflections
- free-write
- lists
- letters to random things and people
- Poetry Friday
- maybe I'll even commit to Sunday Scribblings
- use my Pinterest "writing inspiration" board

Let's do this.

"I get a little behind during Lent, but it comes out even at Christmas."

- Frank Butler

Valentine's Day?

So tomorrow's Valentine's Day.  I'm not really a fan of the holiday, and so part of me thinks I have an obligation to unpack that dislike for it so I can can square things away.

Thanks, Google!

Okay, so what's the point of Valentine's Day?  It's a Hallmark holiday meant to sell candy and cards and encourage people to deck out their homes in pink and red (two colors that clash on normal days...) in order to express their affection for the people that are important in their lives.  Most commonly affection for a significant other.  All those left single during this day spend their time burning teddy bears or complaining about how disgusting Valentine's Day is.  Am I right?  Let's not forget that Valentine's Day is also the day in history when the St. Valentine's Day Massacre took place in Chicago.  Isn't that happy?

I've spent the majority of my life being single.  I never really had a problem with that.  I didn't need a boy to make me happy, and I didn't want to have to deal with the drama that inevitably would surround a high school relationship.  So Valentine's Day wasn't a big deal.  I maybe gave cards to my friends.  Maybe.  I don't remember.  I do remember wearing either red or pink on that day just because it was fun to dress up.  Point being, Valentine's Day didn't really have a meaning for me.  Sure, I'll admit it was fun playing the cynic and bashing the heart shaped cards and those gross conversation hearts (they really taste nasty, I don't understand why they exist...) and the couples who were all lovey-dovey in the hallways.  I honestly wanted to puke.  Partially because I hate people, mostly because I felt like they were playing into cliche.  Which is sad.

This year I find myself in a relationship with Valentine's Day right around the corner (that being a relative term, we all know it's tomorrow).  It's really hard to not bash the day, and every time I do I have friends surrounding me who remind me that I have a boyfriend, so I should be happy.  Melbourne even went so far as to remind me that I have a boyfriend while also telling me that I'm not allowed to do the cynical bashy thing or else I'm a hypocrite.  Which is a fair statement, but hurts.

I don't understand why Valentine's Day exists outside of the idea that Hallmark needs to make a profit.  "So you can express your love to your loved ones."  That's just silly.  Come on now, you can express your love to your friends and lovers and husbands and mothers without having a special day that says you're supposed to. In fact, you probably should be continually expressing love, affection, and admiration on a daily basis anyway because it's good for you like vegetables.  There's nothing stopping you from saying, "Hey, I really appreciate you and everything you do for me" or "Hey, those are kick ass boots," or even "Hey, I love you" on any day outside of February 14th.  What means more: a gift from someone who you know cares about you on a day that necessitates gift giving and chocolate eating or a hug, a kiss, a gift or a well wish when that person isn't required to give you one?

What I'm saying is Valentine's Day makes people feel like they're required to show affection on that specific day.  They can spend all other days of the year giving people the finger for cutting them off on the highway, jumping strangers in line, and scowling when that other person takes the last French fry.  Really world?  That's not how this is supposed to work.  Call me optimistic for the remaining 364 (or 365 because this year's a leap year) days of the year, but I feel that people should be able to show their loved ones that they care every day.  What's stopping them?  Is it because they don't have time or the inclination?  They already love each other, why can't they just say it?  Why do they need a special little card that Hallmark sells you at Walgreens once a year to say something punny and ridiculous and ultimately trite when something far simpler would suffice on any other day of the year?

Valentine's Day might be a day for grand gestures, but I still think that people can pull out all the stops on any other day.  I believe in the power of positive thinking, the importance of a kind word on a rough day, and the effects of a smile from a stranger.  No one should feel alone on Valentine's Day if during the rest of the year they surround themselves by people who care for them and who make sure that they know.  So it ultimately shouldn't matter whether you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, lover or spouse on Valentine's Day because maybe you don't have one during the rest of the year, but you're still happy.  So why be miserable for one day out of the year when you have so many people around you who want what's best for you and would do just about anything to help you out ALL THE TIME?

Parting words:
Couples, I know this day is technically yours, all the commercials say so, but please don't make out and grope each other in public, it's neither cute nor charming, it really just annoys and disgusts people.  Don't let Valentine's Day be your excuse.

Singletons (or all the single ladies...(I had to make that reference at some point)), don't let Valentine's Day get you down.  You've got a whole network of people who love and care about you during the entire year, so don't let the thought of being without a significant other taint your day.  It's really just another day.

World, try a little tenderness.  All I'm asking is for a little respect and some kindness to strangers and acquaintances alike.  Every day.  Not just on Valentine's Day, alright?  Start today.

"Love is not to be purchased, and affection has no price."

- St. Jerome

Taking a Survey

So I haven't written a post here for quite a while, and I'm overdue.  Unfortunately I'm not feeling very creative, so I went back into the Facebook surveys that I put in my notes for a while there, and I'm updating this particular one so I have a new version.  Cool?  Cool.

1 What time did you get up this morning?
Well.  I got up some time around 6:30 and went in and out of consciousness until about 7:15 AM.

2. How do you like your steak?
Well done.  Or just cooked.  Cooked steak is nice.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
The last movie I saw at the actual movie theatre was Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.  It was good, but I liked the first one better.  I was excessively pleased that I understood what little French showed up in the movie though...

4. What is your favorite TV show?
Doctor Who, hands down.  I also really love Glee and Once Upon a Time.  I really need to catch up with House and Castle, but I can't remember where I left off last.

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Somewhere I can be happy, but Edinburgh, Scotland would be ideal.

6. What did you have for breakfast today?
I had...French toast sticks, potatoes, sausage, and orange/cranberry juice from Saga because I'm cool like that.

7. What is your favorite cuisine?
I adore Chinese food.  I could probably eat pasta (Italian) until the cows come home.  I also love Mexican.  And...just about everything, really.

8. What foods do you dislike?
I really don't like carrots, which explains a lot about why I can't see very well...

9. Favorite Place to Eat?
Any place where there's food.  I particularly enjoy dining with my family, I love pie at Baker's Square, and breakfast at Walker Brother's.  I'm also a fan of First Wok and El Porton.  

10. Favorite salad dressing?
Ranch.

11.What kind of vehicle do you drive?
Currently I don't drive anything because I'm at school, but when I'm at home I drive an 18 year old gray mini van named Wolfgang.

12. What are your favorite clothes?
Jeans + t-shirt + blazer + cool socks = ultimate comfort and classiness

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?
Paris, France.

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
Both.  You can't get me with this question because I'm both a pessimist and an optimist.

15. Where would you want to retire?
Somewhere quiet.  Somewhere close to nature, preferably a forest or farm of some sort.  I really don't care how close the nearest hospital is.

16. Favorite time of day?
Morning.  I love sunrises.


17. Where were you born?
Des Plaines, IL.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch?
Hockey.  It's the blood.  :^P

19. Who do you think will not tag you back?
I should delete this question....

20. Person you expect to tag you back first?
Should delete this one too...

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this?
And this one...

22. Bird watcher?
I'm not sure why this question exists.  But no, I'm not really a bird watcher.  If I see something pretty with feathers, I might watch it for a little while.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Morning Person.  But being a college student, I have to adapt to being both.  At the same time.

24. Do you have any pets?
One dog, Dandy for "Dandelion." And if younger brothers count...I've got one of those too.

25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share?
Well.  I applied for the Disney College Program, and I'm waiting to hear back from them on whether I got it or not!

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
A teacher. Because I loved all my teachers back in the day.  I also wanted to be a veterinarian and a Broadway actress.

27. What is your best childhood memory?
Playing outside all summer long with my little brother and our neighborhood buddies, going on adventures to museums with my mom.

28. Are you a cat or dog person?
Dog, most definitely.

29. Always wear your seat belt?
Yup! It just feels weird when I don't...

30. Been in a car accident?
Nope.

31. Any pet peeves?
Stubborn stupid people. Large groups of slow walking teenage girls that stop to hug each other every five seconds. --> this hasn't changed...

32. Favorite Pizza Topping?
Cheese. No question.  Oh!  But I like pineapple too!

33. Favorite Flower?
Lily!

34. Favorite ice cream?
Anything delicious.  I used to love Cupcake ice cream until the company figured out that I loved it and stopped making it...mint chocolate chip is classic, chocolate chocolate is divine...hm.  

35. Favorite fast food restaurant?
Steak 'n Shake counts, right?

36. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
Zero, I passed on the first try even though I almost stopped on train tracks and almost ran a stop sign...

37. From whom did you get your last email?
One of my RAs!  :^D

38. Which store would you choose to max out your card?
Barnes and Noble.  Or Half Price Books if I'm feeling economical.  Or Hobby Lobby.  All equally magical.

39. Do anything spontaneous lately?
I went for "coffee" with fifteen minutes to spare before dinnertime...

40. Like your job?
I love my job.  I love working with people, I love mentoring, I love helping out, I love walking around with a walkie talkie, I love knocking on doors and yelling at people to get out of the potentially burning building, I love...

41. Broccoli?
Absolutely.  I'll eat your's if you don't want it...

42. What was your favorite vacation?
My high school theatre's trip to Scotland was pretty sweet.  My family's last trip to Arizona was a lot more fun than I had previously anticipated...

43. Last person you went out to dinner with?
D4 1.0 at Saga!  Because I'm cool like that (again).

44. What are you listening to right now?
I'm listening to Pandora playing me the delightful sounds of Neon Trees' "1983." 

45. What is your favorite color?
Orange.

46. How many tattoos do you have?
Zero, though I once convinced someone that my mother and I had matching tattoos...

47. How many are you tagging for this quiz?
Pretty sure this question should go away too...

48. What time did you finish this quiz?
11:49 PM

50. Coffee Drinker?
Nope, and I'm confused as to why this is after the "finish the quiz" question?

February 1st

Today is February 1st.
I had to check my calendar to confirm that it is indeed the beginning of the second month of 2012, but Amy Pond assures me that it's true.  (I have a Doctor Who calendar that I'm still really excited that I own...)  February.

This means that I've survived a whole month of 2012.  We all have.  I was a little concerned for a bit there, but we made it through.  That also means that I've completed the 5th month of my Poem-a-Day project.  Which is astounding when I didn't even think I'd do a second month once I started.  September was so difficult, I didn't think I'd have the energy to go on.  But I'm really glad I did.  Once I'm done with February though, I hit a milestone.  6 months of poem writing.  6 months worth of poems.  That's roughly...180 poems.  (I say roughly because on some days I wrote more than one poem, and February only has 29 days this year.)  Good grief, when I hit 200 poems...how weird will that be?

Because I've gotten this far, it becomes a question of how long I'm going to continue this project.  Do I have the energy and the stamina to continue for an entire year?  Well.  I'm going to try.  Although I realize that when I get home I'm going to have to do more than just laze around and do nothing because when I did that over winter break, my poetry was so awful.  I kid you not.  It was bad.  Because I did absolutely nothing over break aside from go to the grocery store with my mother and read and watch movies.  I didn't even make bulletin boards like I should have.  Anyway.  One year.  I'm shooting for one whole year of poetry.  We'll see how this goes.

This month (or at least for the next two weeks) people will be talking about Valentine's Day.  Which I hate.  I hate Valentine's Day.  Okay, maybe not "hate," but I do dramatically dislike it because it's all pink and frilly and cliche and full of candy.  Okay, the candy's the best part.  But that's not the point.  It's the principle of the thing.  I don't understand why people need one specific day to communicate their affection for their loved ones.  Why can't they do that daily?  Wouldn't that make it mean more?  Anyway, this leads me to believe that I should try my hand at typical romantic poetry.  I'm horrid at writing love poems, and I know because I tried.  I once wrote a love sonnet to a book.  When I had to write a love poem in my Writing Poetry class...I wrote one to a book.  (Noticing a theme here?)  So.  Because this is my 5th month of writing poetry, I'm going to set myself a challenge to write one love poem a week out of all the poems I'll be writing this month.  We'll see how this goes.

"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red..."

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 130