The Annoyance of Arrogance

As one gets older height is not the only thing that changes. As you grow, your arrogance also grows. Freshman in high school--if I walk fast with my head down no one will see me. Senior in high school--everyone better stay out of my way while I strut (slowly) down the hallway. Not to gender stereotype but the ones who strut the most are males (we females already know we're great, we don't need to strut). One such male annoys the crap out of me: walking around with shoulders back showing off "muscle." I don't even think he has muscle, it's fat--don't try to tell him that. Then again, if there is no hope for your brain (with this particular specimen this is the case), might as well work on your brawn.

The Seed

“Don’t push that button.” If one sees a sign emphatically proclaiming not to touch something what is the first thing that you want to do? Touch the button. Why do you think all of the dancing dogs, snowman, cats or hamsters at the mall never work by the time you press the little red button? Because someone else used all the batteries before you got there. So, what do you do with a jar that warns, “This seed should never, never be planted.” Plant the seed. The secret is, don’t plant the seed in your yard, plant it in your neighbors and if a man-eating plant, vegetable, or flower terrorizes them, who cares, at least it isn’t you.

The Thin Line

Everyone has heard and reheard the broken record preaching about the thin line separating love and hate. What about the thin line separating masochists from people that have pride over the fact they overcome obstacles? They are one in the same, two peas in a pod, two of a kind...yada yada yada. Masochists are people who enjoy pain; overcomers are happy to beat the pain. The middleman: both groups use pain to make them happy. You can try to hide from the truth, but face it--you're a masochist/overcomer.

Look Mom, I can type with two hands!

FREEDOM. Sweet, sweet freedom. Today, at exactly 1:03pm my incarceration by cast ended. Now I can type with two hands so all you typing wunderkinds better beware of my speed typing. The month of cast time may seem like nothing but I had to type three Friant essays and ten gender studies journals mano y nada. The downside is that my free hand is so angry at me for hurting and imprisoning it that it has decided to punish me. How can a hand punish its owner? Just look at it and see the dead skin peeling and falling off--not unlike the hair off a prematurely balding man's head.

Desperation Smells Like An Essay

Right now I should be writing a Friant paper that's due tomorrow...yet I'm writing here. What does that say about Friant's essays? I can't stand them because so far it's taken me an hour and a half to pick the poem and write a paragraph and a half. Looks like there's a long night ahead. What's the point if he doesn't read them for content? And just once I would like a positive comment, not much, even a generic "good job" would do, anything is better than the red marks scouring every one of my proofread sentences. Seventeen more sentences to go--only two continents and a world away.

The Bane Of My Existence

PHYSICS. IS. NOT. FUN. I don't care if the alliteration is catchy or the teacher is popular; physics is the most frustrating class I've ever had (although not the most frustrating teacher). I always fail and not from lack of trying. My partner and I just received a 74% on a test we thought we did really good on. Then again, at this point just passing is an accomplishment. All through physics period(s) at least one hundred expletives scream through my head like the shrill laughter of someone who won't be named but rides my bus. I swear if one more person smiles down at me about a bad physics grade or makes an unfunny joke, I might have to hurt them. Now I really know what crazy is: the students who take AP physics.

My "Five" Course Breakfasts

No on ever says this, but, sometimes I wish I lived in China. Why would I want to live in China (aside from the fact they actually make their own products)? Simple. They have a law where a couple can only have one kid. Meaning: no siblings. This morning, like every morning, my brother wanted to get out of the house early to be at school a half hour before school even starts. Who does that? I wouldn't want anyone to get the idea that I'm an overachiever (overachievers make it harder for all us normal people). My brother gets angry when I eat breakfast because, according to him, I take to long eating a "five" course breakfast. Today, I had a half a grapefruit and a piece of toast. How is that five course? Where is the bacon, eggs, sausage and pancakes? What he really means is that since I'm the only one in the house who actually eats breakfast that I shouldn't eat. The problem is I love breakfast--the breakfast commercial on TV always makes me dance (it has spoons, forks, and plates dancing and singing about the wonders of breakfast). I would like to point out that it is absolutely none of my brother's business what I eat or don't eat in the morning. I need to give my metabolism a boost in the morning. If I don't I would be the same as every other--excuse the stereotype--girl trying to lose weight by not eating the most amazing meal of the day.