Goals and Things 2013: Part 1

Today in my teenage angst, I review 2012; the goals I had then and what I have achieved now.

In January, I had four goals for the year. They were simple, attainable (mostly), and they were going to happen. This is the segment from last year's post at about this time.

Goals 

• My dad and I are running a 5K in May. We run but we don't enter races. This is a motivating tactic to expand our training and general running practices. A 5K isn't much but races are scary. So we're starting small. 
• Achieve 3.5GPA for both my semesters this year. I was close last semester and still might make it as I'm still waiting on one mark. This might be a bit of a stretch but having the aim on the outset of the semester gives me motivation to work hard from start to finish.
• Save tuition for my fall semester at Regina. This is a bigger deal because the school to which I'm transferring doesn't hold the provincial support and subsequent tuition subsidization as the school I now attend. So because I live at home and have generally small needs it's attainable but saving money still requires a decision every month to put that chunk of money away.
• Take my Harmony 4 exam in May or August. That's a vein of classical music theory. The variance in time depends on my teacher. She'll decide when I'm not too stupid to actually write the exam. Oh bless her heart for dealing with me. She's wonderful. 

So, I look back, and I think, pretty darn good, Hannah, pretty darn good. 

Come February, I fell down the stairs and sprained my ankle. Just before this, I came across a book called (I'm not kidding about the title of this book) Half-Marathon: You can do it! I thought it was funny because, as if. Also, no I couldn't run a half-marathon. But as it turned out, I really could. The plan was simple and something I could probably stick to. I looked up the race info on the Queen City Marathon and decided to sign up. I'm always motivated by paying money to do something. If I've paid for it, it's going to happen. A combination of Suzy, CandyCorn, and my cell phone, ended with a ridiculous week off of work and my introduction to the Virgin Suicides. It also put training on hold. Four weeks out of commission, I was concerned. But my dear friend Jenn, convinced me that I would bounce back, and to just give it time. I listened.

In March, my best friend had her baby. PAISLEY!!!! Talk about the best thing to ever happen to my life. Legit. She is so amazing. Both Paisley and her mom. Motherhood is kind of crazy right? How do you even approach motherhood? But Karlie's been seriously killing it. And Paisley is a healthy, hilarious and brilliant baby. I am so beyond blessed to have her in my life.  

This was at the beginning of August.

This was at the beginning of December. She is too much.

Fast-forward to April, school finally ended for the year. I did not meet my hoped for GPA of 3.5. I did however nail down a solid method of studying psych and embracing objective fields of study. 

May allowed for an amazing change of pace - employment wise. I got the summer student position doing children's programming at the Library, where I work anyway. So I got to go on leave from my current position, which was sweet. As weird as it is to be a part of a union, there are a lot of super boss things about it. Also! the first degree I did was a BA in Ministry. This, I recognize, is a weird major. People often say, "so you could, like, be a minister?" And I respond, "well, yes, but mostly I learned the dynamics and intricacies of doing children's programming. So it's nice to know that I get, every once in a while, to put that to use. Anyway, the position itself, spread over thirteen weeks was kind of sucky but it provided extra funds for the fall semester, another goal, so you know, two down. 

Come August, I had been doing training for the half marathon for about two months. It wasn't going super well. I had put my gym membership on hold for two months because I figured I would just run outside, but unless I ran at night, the sun was far to hot and murderous to run at all. I was consistent enough with my long runs to feel about 50% confident, which wasn't exactly what I'd hoped for. The eleventh of August brought about my Harmony IV exam. In the world of classical music, this is pretty advanced, and after struggling through a good measure of my time with my instructor, it was truly as advanced as I was going to get. I wrote the exam and called her after to say that we might have gotten lucky. I think I for sure passed and I might have even gotten honors! At this level, you have to get honors to move on to higher levels of study. I was kind of hoping to get one or two marks below honors to ensure I couldn't continue. I got my grade back on September 12th, however, and I did indeed achieve honors; four marks higher than necessary. This felt like a major fluke, but whatever man. At that moment in time, I killed that crap. 

At the start of September, I began my fourteenth semester of undergraduate work at the University of Regina. I've been doing this a while, so I don't really care anymore how all of this goes down, but I noticed almost immediately, the difference of being in a classroom. Professors are amazing. 4/5 of my profs were just beyond great. One, I am willing to blame for not achieving (yet again) my hoped for 3.5 GPA, but I did a bunch of personal bests grade wise on individual assignments as well as a few exams. So I'm satisfied. I also had an incredible philosophy professor, who convinced me, simply through is presence and a little bit of his teaching, that philosophy is the best thing ever. So I've decided on a philosophy minor/will probably finish the degree over the next decade. Ha. 

Also in September, I raced the Queen City Half Marathon. This was quite the experience. I was so nervous the day before. I felt like I was going to my ultimate doom and Darth Vader's theme song was following me around all day long. I was also super sensitive and felt like whining "you guuyyysss, just leave me alone! I'm going to die tomorrow!" But the day came. I painted my nails, and suited up, to run forever. And I survived. Handily. I came in 9 minutes slower than my goal time, but my goal time was already a bit of a stretch. There are people all along the course that take pictures of you and then dangle those pictures over you, wanting you to pay for them, and I'm like, no way man. I'm gonna screen shot that.

It was just so fun you guys. So much more fun than I ever knew was possible.

I'm pretty sure I'm passing Paisley here. She was crying so hard. But I was so happy she came.

I call this my hardcore finishers face.

Like, as if right? Look at her sad little face. And look at me and Karlie laughing at her. Hahahaha.

And that covered the goals I had for last year. I feel like it might have been my best year yet. Possibly because I had actual goals to work toward, but mostly because of Paisley. Ill be back tomorrow to tell you about my plans for 2013! Not that I really truly know what they are yet.

I'll make some up. 

Lost.

Today in my teenage angst, I reflect upon the human experience of loss.

About a week ago, this girl that I sort of knew, though I'm not sure we ever actually met, was in a car accident and died. When I got the news, I didn't react. I thought about her family and I was sad. But I didn't cry. I was never overwhelmed with emotion. Though, as I was re-watching How I Met Your Mother, I cried a little harder than necessary at the death of Marshall's father.

As I said goodbye to people before they travelled home for Christmas, I had an overwhelming sense of doom. You know, that realization that at any moment, anyone could be taken from my life. I pride myself on the ability to achieve a level of empathy that allows me to see people in their contexts.

This generally gives me a sense of the "big picture". This is a great thing, and a really awful thing. In the immediate of a horrific moment, I can see the goodness of what can and will arise from that moment. This, I suppose, would be my gearing toward optimism. On the negative end, this removes me from the importance of the moment and I end up trivializing it. I don't like, trivialize it out loud, but in my mind, it becomes small. I don't like to talk about it, I try not to think about it, I watch more TV.

Having (sort of) experienced this measure of loss, I am forced to realize that I'm kind of lost when it comes to loss. All I want to say is that we don't have to be sad now because some sort of goodness will come out of this! So let's not be sad but instead talk about fun things and be normal. But it's not normal. It's loss.

It's like when you have a bunch of marbles in a box. They all line up pretty well and they look good. Then you take one out. There's a hole. It looks incomplete. But then the marbles move and roll and adjust to the absence of that missing marble. This seems like a stupid example because the presence of the hole and the marble adjustment is almost instantaneous. But it's relative right? Everything is relative. I just like to think about that inevitable adjustment. And after the adjustment, sometimes the marbles line up even better than before. This doesn't make the missing marble unnecessary, by any means. If that marble hadn't been present, the marbles wouldn't have realigned themselves the way they did when it was taken away. I'm coming to realize that maybe there is a lot to be said for the time leading up to the adjustment, however short it may be.

And now I wonder if this is something you have to experience to really understand. But I'd really rather not.

Books.

Books books books books books. Today in my teenage angst, I looovvveee literature. Mostly because I love language. I love the power that language has to work for good; to provoke thought, and widen worldview; to understand other's experiences and the way we see the world.

Last year I set out to read 12 books. I read 32. Granted two of those were graphic novels and the majority of the list was juvenile fiction, but I have a craazzyy amazing list of books to recommend should you be looking an amazing (and probably simple, but awesome) read.

Read in 2012

The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire - ___________

Mockingjay - ___________

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs

The Whole Truth - Kit Pearson

Slaughter-House Five - Kurt Vonnegut

The Book Thief - Mark Zusak

Wonderstruck - Brian Selznick

Winter's Bone - Daniel Woodrell

The Fault in Our Stars - John Green

I am the Cheese - Robert Cormier

Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card

I am the Messenger - Mark Zusak

When you Reach Me - Rebecca Stead

Harvey (GN) - Herve Bouchard

Vinyl Cafe Unplugged - Stuart McLean

Moon Over Manifest - Clare Vanderpool

The Higher Power of Lucky - Susan Patton

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (and other concerns) - Mindy Kaling

Good Masters! Sweet Ladies!: Voices from a Medieval Village - Laura Amy Schiltz 

Kira-Kira - Cynthia Kadohata

Shiver - Maggie Stiefvater

Linger - Maggie Stiefvater

The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman

Bridge to Terabithia - Katherin Pearson

Room - Emma Donoghue

The Diviners - Margaret Laurence

Crispin: The Cross of Lead - Avi

Paul Gets a Summer Job (GN) - Michel Rabagliati

Criss-Cross - Lynne Rae Perkins

The Tale of Despereaux - Kate DiCamillo

Casual Vacancy - J.K. Rowling (I'm still reading this, but I'm pretty sure I'll be done by the new year)

I've linked them all to their Goodreads page. Most of them I've rated 5/5 because they were largely amazing. If you have a question about any of them, let me know. I really love talking about why I think books are amazing. I think about it a lot, so you can imagine the relief it is for me to talk about it. Ha.

This year, I've lengthened my list a little because, once again, almost all my books are YA or JF. Though I have some exciting picks from the adult side of things. And here they are.

The Unfinished Angel - Sharon Creech (JF)

Following Grandfather - Rosemary Wells (JF)

Dead End in Norvelt - Jack Gantos (JF)

Number the Stars - Lowis Lowry (JF)

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler - E.L. Konigsburg (JF)

And Nothing But the Truth - Kit Pearson (JF) (also one of my favorite authors of all time)

Fishtailing - Wendy Phillips (YA)

Every Day - David Levithan (YA)

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist - David Levithan and Rachel Cohn (YA)

The Raven Boys - Maggie Steifvater (YA)

Forever - Maggie Steifvater (YA)

Name of the Star - Maureen Johnson (YA)
The Uglies - Scott Westerfeld (YA)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky (YA)
Divergent - Veronica Roth (YA)

Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn (AF)

Bridges of Madison County - Robert James Waller (AF)

Alright. So I'll let you know how these go. I'm realllly excited. Also this semester, I'm taking entirely psych, so I'll have a lot of light reading needs. Yay!!! I hope you're seeking quality reads for the coming  year as well. It's worth it, I promise. 

Top Ten.

Today in my teenage angst, I noticed I've had a pretty good year. I've gotten two promotions at work, did a crazy amount of stuff, became more attached to the internet than I knew was possible, and basically ruled the world. That's a joke. Not a very funny one, I know. Here are my top ten favorite things of the year.

10. Upbeat Patrons: I work at a library, as most people know. The two years I've been at the library have been an experiential upheaval. People are weird, and people need a lot of love. I've learned, most of all, to give people the emotions they need, rather than the ones I feel. This can go a long way. It doesn't however, take much to make my day. Flirty/super-adorable old men, bonding over a great movie, precious old ladies who can't hear, jokey couples, are really all it takes. And for every mean/angry person who has accrued six hundred dollars in fines, there are seven awesome people looking to make your day. Everyone remember that.

9. The closing of Blockbuster: Okay, I know, this seems weird. But it has a lot to do with #10; kind of. My sister loved Blockbuster. And I mean loved, we'd go and wander around forever before deciding on a movie, and while I did get a lot of awesome previously viewed movies (including The Royal Tenenbaums in an amazing collector's case with an amazing insert. See below.), the closing of Blockbuster, undid some strange agreement between the library and the big movie rental places. This agreement prevented us from ordering new releases, lest we divert business from them with our free loan periods. NOW!, though, if it's out on DVD, we've got it! And if we don't have it, we'll get it! It's legit the best.

8. Netflix: Some obscure old stuff, that Netflix Canada has weirdly secured the rights to (aka, Manhattan Murder Mystery), the Library doesn't have, can be seen here! Also, Netflix availed me to Buffy. Which was the greatest three months of my life. Minus season six. Which we should all admit was the worst.

7. Top Knots: As my hair has been getting longer, longer than it's been since I was six, it's been getting more high maintenance. I just cannot wash it every day/every other day/I really need to stretch it out as long as possible - aka use cans and cans of dry shampoo. Top knots have been the ultimate solution. Also, because I have sensory processing issues, it gets it off my neck.

6. Tumblr: Ahh Tumblr. How grateful for you am I??? The #1 most grateful. During the Election season, I was kept so up to date, I could hardly handle it. My anxiety disorder my have been aided and abetted by this constant onslaught of information, but I was none the less grateful for it. Newsweek and Brooklynmutt were/are pretty awesome on this front. Also, endless memes of Hillary Clinton "saying" awesome stuff? Priceless. Here's my tumblr, if you're interested.

5. Hello Giggles: Speaking of Tumblr. I find the actual Hello Giggles website to be a little daunting. But the information guys, the information! They have about a billion writers, some of which are seriously amped in the way of challenging my worldview and making my aware of issues and the impact that thinking thoroughly about them, can have. Their tumblr channels links to these articles, always with an eye-catching picture, and almost always gets me to read them. Good work, HG, good work.

4. Fandoms: Furthering the blessed nature of tumblr, my media obsessions (Buffy, Television in general, Harry Potter (still), John and Hank Green, etc.) are allowed to fully flourish as they are shared with the thousands of others that love Awesome as much as I do.

3. Smart Phones: I got my first Smart Phone at the beginning of August. I love this thing so dang much. I have never been in better contact with my best friends. Through the wonder of Instagram, Tumblr (my first and immediate app download), and Twitter, I've made friends across provinces, that I would never have met otherwise. The first twitter conversation I had with Nova, of Glitter and Doom, Erin, of Charlie Foxtrot, and Suzy, of Suzy Krause and the Skyscrapers, was admittedly weird for me, but just so fun.

2. Exercise: I committed early on in the year to running a half-marathon. In september, that goal was smashed into the ground when I crossed the finish line. Nine minutes behind my goal time, but whatever you know? You can't always get what you want. I'm just kidding. I love putting stress on my body. I'm often stupid with this, in that I'm often very sore, but it's fun. I love exercise for how hard it is, and how great I feel after, and how I get to read Runner's World with purpose. I really want everyone to love exercise as much as I do, but it's hard, and I get that. We all just really need to commit to finding the kind of exercise that we can enjoy and look forward to doing. Also, joining a gym is a solid way to get on this, because when you're paying for it, you go. Mostly.

1. Paisley: Does everyone remember this best face ever???

She is truly the best thing to every happen to me. She has also stilled any maternal itch I had going into this year. Which, I feel is opposite of the way it usually works, but I'll take it. Also, her mom, my bff Karlie, is doing such an amazing job. I feel like it's easy to assume someone awesome is going to be an amazing mom, but until you watch her in the middle of it and realize how huge motherhood is, you can't really know how amazing that person is going to be. And she really is killing this. It's like she's providing for Paisley's needs, keeping her from sticking gross things in her mouth, and anticipating her future needs simultaneously. And she never loses it. Or at least I've never seen that. So I'm going to continue believing she never loses it. I just feel so lucky that my Best Friend had a baby that is the best baby and seems to love me, and continues to welcome me into her life. What the deal, right?

Exam.

Today in my teenage angst, exam week(s) have been an acca-bitch. PS. I'm watching Pitch Perfect on the side, right now, and it is hilarious. Thank goodness for Mean Girls type movies. Oh man. And I'm jealous of Anna Kendrick.

I went into exam week wishing it wasn't spread over two. But I had my three hardest exams in the first week so whatever right? You just do what you have to do. The worst part was that amid studying for exams, and doing my regular job hours, I was training for my new job. Which, by the way, is totally going to kill. Awesome kill, that is.

Throughout the week, I got three coldsores, a ridiculous cold that took me out of commission for two days, and wanting to die. I cancelled a bunch of stuff and added an attempt at more sleep and failed. I want just so badly to be only cognitively tired, and not battling the break down of my body at the same time.

Luckily, How I Met Your Mother is now on Netflix and I'm taking full advantage. Tomorrow, I have my second last exam, Critical Thinking. It's been a pretty bad semester due simply to that class. Logic, even in its basest form, is hard. Critical Thinking, is not hard. Unless you have a linguistically simple human, marking your assignments, instead of your professor, who reads your midterm and deems the low grade due to your nuanced and sophisticated language. I'm sorry, what? I will feel so free, once it's over. As Suzy would say, Good Graish.

Hey guys! Didja know, I have an Instagram page? The pictures featured in this blog are Instapics! That's my name for Instagrammed pictures. Hahahaha. I'm just so cool guys. You can find me at instagram.com/todayinmyteenageangst. And just the last part for your phones.

The parents I was babysitting for on Friday, offered me this beer. It was so tasty; partially because it's legitimately tasty beer, but mostly because it was free.

Also, I introduced Secret Santa to the Library this year and totally killed it on my gift. The limit was ten bucks. I bought an eight dollar monogrammed mug from chapters and spent a dollar on those little baggies from the dollar store. My person really loves loose leaf tea. I happen to have an endless measure of loose leaf tea. Now, understand about me, that I am not a crafty person. My conceptualizations almost never materialize. This time, however, I totally rocked it. From my frontal lobe straight out to my finger tips, it turned out beautifully. I'm awesome. 

Happy Christmas, guys. I'll probably talk to you before then. 

My Five Second Relationship.

Last week, in my teenage angst, I was invited to a meeting with this super-elite writing group. Okay I perceive it as super-elite, because the group is comprised of people I perceive to be super cool. As per this perception, the invitation made me feel super cool. So I wrote this up this piece for the meeting, thinking I was pretty witty. But then the weather turned. Literally, there was a blizzard. That's not a metaphor for my self-esteem. Anyway, I didn't go to the meeting - also because I was tired, and the first thing to go when I'm tired is sociability - and I didn't present my piece. So I've been sitting on it for a week. So here it is. It's not my favorite, but it actually happened and, you know, that makes it kind of awesome. 

My Five Second Relationship

As a child of the nineties, my life has been largely ruled by Romantic Comedies. Staples of our family viewing were While You Were Sleeping, Father of the Bride, You’ve Got Mail, and Sleepless in Seattle. Men like Hugh Grant, Tom Hanks, and Steve Martin – the father though he was – have bled my romantic expectations to the point of death. I have though, seen these movies so many times that if a real life experience mirrors a scene from one of those movies, even slightly, I will carry it out to completion, leaving anyone in my sight line confused, but admittedly entertained.

A few weeks ago, my mother and I were dropping off the recycling. The reality of living in a city without curb side recycling is that you have to gather your cardboard and your tin cans and physically take it to the drop off. I’m certain we all carry through on this mandate because of our “killing-the-earth” guilt complexes. This guilt however enables a sort of superiority among those at the drop off. It’s a weird measure of connection and community knowing that you have all done your part to ensure the renewal of these resources. You are all awesome.

In emptying a box of cardboard into the bin, a beautifully bearded, plaid-shirted hipster caught my eye. He gave me a knowing smile and in that moment, I did know. I knew our lives would be beautiful. We would shop locally, buy organic or grow it ourselves when the weather was nice. Our house would be filled with beautiful things, old or new; we wouldn’t care, as long as they were filled with memories of love and togetherness. And we would tell the story of how we met, saving the planet, to our children, and their children, and our friends and their parents. Everyone would know the power of working toward a better world. That power is love. 

And in that moment, as our boxes emptied of paper and I continued to imagine the beauty awaiting our togetherness, he turned and walked away. My eyes followed as he headed back to his car – a hybrid, I’m certain. There waiting for him, was an equally perfect, beautifully dreaded, plaid shirted hipster-ess, and then I knew; the fantasy was over. 

Dammit.  

Generalization, Judgement and a Lack of Understanding.

Today in my teenage angst, I address an issue I was presented with a couple months ago. This issue is really important to me. So important that, as I write this, I feel a little nauseous and I'll probably cry before it's done. I present to you the following graphic.

I have a problem with this for a number of reasons. But first I need to explain where this graphic stems from. It first appeared on my Facebook feed shared from a page called "Goodbye Obama 2012". That says a lot. I'm willing to assume that the creator of such a Facebook page is largely opposed to the social change that Barack Obama is desperately working toward. Opposition to social change is something that I've never understood, barring being a Supremacist, but I like to think I don't know any supremacists. Graphics like this, however, really make me think that I do.

The problem here is that the message discounts the social implications of growing up in a low socioeconomic environment. Young people who grow up in low socioeconomic environments aren't taught decision making skills, budgeting, or proper spending. They are however availed to opportunities for underage drinking, cigarettes, drugs, etc. By the time they are no longer wards of their parents or the state, no skills have been gained to warrant the ability to live off of food-stamps or welfare. While there is a lot to be said for self-investment, working your own way forward, etc, blah, blah, blah, we need to be willing to accept that this is the exception, not the norm.

Beyond this, I'd like to address the inclusion of tattoos in this graphic. I kind of love that this was identified as an issue because it too is less of an issues than an opportunity for understanding. The reality for a lot of kids in the lowest socioeconomic brackets is that permanence is a nice but fleeting idea. They deal regularly with continual change in authority figures, places of residence, places of employment, friends, significant others, family members, etc. Tattoos represent a point of permanence that could not otherwise be achieved. By getting a tattoo young people are able to express their body's permanence in a world that offers little else with staying power.

People who are agree with statements like these have never had this kind of experience. People who agree with statements like this were taught the value of a dollar, the importance of putting your needs before your wants, the danger of impulsivity and so many more valuable but rare lessons. What I want us to admit here is that we understand very little of what goes on for people who require the use of social assistance. We don't understand it because we haven't been there. When it looks like people are abusing the system, it's evidence of a social experience that has not provided the opportunities to act otherwise.

When I responded with this sentiment on that Facebook post, I encouraged a more verbal discussion and dialogue about these kind of issues, rather than passive aggressively stating this kind of opinion on Facebook. I was met with a harsh statement that Facebook should be a place where we share our opinions, thoughts and feelings. The problem with this is that it promotes misunderstanding. Tone cannot be carried virally. Ground breaking, right? But when we promote misunderstanding, we promote division and we are already swimming in a sea of divide and drowning. Do you hear me folks? We are fucking drowning in division of our own creation. It's detrimental. And it's killing us.

Please, please, please think about the people you are including in statements like these and acknowledge that they are worth so much more than the blatant label you are placing on them. In this case, "system abusing bastards." I realize those are my words, not yours.

So I'm closing down my newsfeed. I don't think I fully understand how much work this is going to be but it hurts me too much to know that people I respect think this way.

Linksters.

Today in my teenage angst, I'm too lazy for anything else. I have so much to write about. So much to tell. But I can't. Because I'm tired, and taxed. And when I'm tired and taxed all I want is to sleep and watch Modern Family. Which I have been doing. So. Here we go.

Oh, I should preface that I care a lot about American politics, even as a Canadian. I hold duel citizenship which gives me a vested interest in their process of government. I have though, discovered, through this ever important election, that I have a lot of Canadian friends who care a lot about American politics, and they would say, especially as Canadians. Because of our proximity to America, we cannot distance ourselves as much as we'd like to. I find it frustrating when I meet Canadians who "don't like Americans." I always try and draw out the actual meaning of this absurd statement, and I've never gotten a legitimate defense. What has generally been successfully communicated is that the age and power of America is intimidating and thus their influence seems threatening. So too their ethnocentrism seems arrogant, but I would argue that the fraction of sincerely ethnocentric Americans is so small it hardly matters. I just want us to think harder about this. And if we want to assert that we "don't like Americans," I want us to have a solid reason why, and consider those reasons in relation to how we view members of other countries.

Anyway, the links I'm presenting include a lot of solid (and some humorous) info about the Election. I'm a Democrat so it includes a lot of Probama stuff. I just made that up. Legit. I am so awesome. Patented. PrObama. I'm the best. Anyway, I think that now that the decision has been made and our anxiety levels have gone down, we need to be making a concerted effort to continue in the passion we had during the election.

Alrightyo. Here we go.

HTML Tips for beginners.

21 Pictures Of Adorable Disney Animals In Real Life.

This doesn't have a title but I will call it Tina Fey being awesome.

You guys. Lisa Frank is back.

Tom Hanks performs Slam Poem about Full-House on Jimmy Fallon.

Megan McArdle: Keys to the Economy

Boom, Roasted: Here's why you don't ask a Feminist to hawk your sexist product.

IKEA Playin' with my friends music video.

9-year-old Jimmy Mizone, playing the banjo. As if. These three are far too much.

The Human Jukebox.

Halloween Commercials from the 80s and 90s. 

Understanding the Nation Debt and Budget Deficit. Thank the Lord for John Green.

Anakin the two-legged cat vs. the paper bag. Proof of evolution. Watch her adaptation. Legit.

Are you there, God? It's me, Azita.

Ellen is Sofia Vergara!

The 21 most awkward situations in history. I laughed forever. You have to let the GIFs load for it to really have its full effect.

Literally the best thing ever: Shows within shows.

Kate Nash does Buffy: Once More With Feeling on Halloween. I so wish.

The World's thinnest home has been built in a Polish Alleyway.

The Importance of Grieving Openly.

Hey Jimmy Kimmel, I told my kids I ate all their halloween candy, again. Best kid ever award. Right here.

How to start a blog.

The Options of an Unplanned Pregnancy.

Wrapped Paper: AKA Ready-Made Art.

Alright. Well that's all. Nova always thanks people for leading her to the places and the things, but I don't pay enough attention to know where I got these. So I will go ahead and guess.

Thanks to!, Nova, Hello Giggles, the Rookie Writers . . . OH! and Tumblr in general. I'm so happy to have gotten involved in the Tumblr world. They are good.

And so I will leave you with this photo. Which speaks of my heart right now. Love and goodness and hope for our political and governmental future. Which because we live in a democracy embodies every aspect of our existence. Mostly. 

Blood.

Today in my teenage angst, my french professeur asked me if I am Morrocan. That has nothing to do with this post, but it just happened. And it was weird. So I wanted to tell you.

The actual post is really about blood. See, it's about my little niece. See below.

She's seven months old now. And she's obviously the number one. Look at her. She's developed this hilarious forced smile when a camera is shoved in front of her face. See middle bottom. Hahaha. It's like when eight year old girls do tap routines at their year end dance recitals. It's just so forced.

These pictures are on Tuesday, when her best ever mom (aka my bff) decided an impromptu university visit was in order. Then on Thursday, Suzy was coming for a visit and who should end up coming along but Karlie and the Paisley! I like to call her 'the' Paisley because a) she's the only Paisley I know and b) she's really the only one that matters.

So we go over to the coffee shop and the lighting was really bad, so I didn't get any pictures of her. Which is a first for any of our interactions. Beth (my sis) held her for a good little while and then I got her. She kissed me. With her mouth open. It was kind of weird. We hugged. It was nice. Then she grabbed my nose. She grabbed. Dug in her tiny little nails, with her tiny little fingers and then she pulled her hand off my nose with surprising force.

Suzy saw it. Karlie was ordering coffee. I touched my nose. There was blood. She drew blood!

There was clearly no malice intent. She's seven months old. Noses are the best thing ever for her. They're just there for grabbing! But in the next few seconds when she was standing and holding the table, she tipped away from me, as I tried to prevent her from stuffing her mouth full of saran wrap, and in the process of falling, I tried to catch her. And in the process of trying to catch her, she bumped her nose on the chair. I've noticed that for a lot of kids, bumps like this take a second to set it. There was no refractory period for Paisley. It was bump and cry. Now, not only was this sad, because she was crying, though no actual tears were shed, but it looked like I had exacted my revenge!

As if. As if I would exact any sort of revenge on a seven month old. And it wasn't as though I actually thought Karlie actually thought I had done it on purpose. It was that I thought Paisley thought I had hurt her on purpose. I don't think she's able to make this kind of cognitive connection yet, but it freaks me out that there could be a point at which Paisley could ever look at me and hold me responsible for anything other than being awesome and loving her more than life itself.

Paisley, I hope that by the next time I see you, this wound will have healed and you will not remember. I hope we can return to our previous relationship; the one where your nose was never bumped. We needn't erase your fault though - scratching my nose that is - because you're seven months old; and I'm not sure you have any faults yet.

The sweaters and the things.

Today in my teenage angst, I reference in my post title that episode of 30 Rock where they try to coerce  Tracy back into work by having a guy from accounting call him and do an impersonation of Bill Cosby. Good lord it's funny.

Anyway, here are some things.

Craft Wars. 

Paling Around: Baby kangaroo and wombat share a pouch together.



Suzy made me a special Stars gif.

Orphaned spotted lamb adopted by a dalmatian dog.

Cry Me a River - David Garrett

Trampire: why the slut-shaming of Kristen Stewart matters for young women.

Cat takes off glasses to snuggle.

Why I will be a Girl Scout, even though I never was one.

How I had an entire relationship before my coffee went cold.

Lady Crush: Rayanne Graff from My So Called Life

Divine Pain: When Church Hurts
The author of this article does a weekly piece called Faith Forays, featured on Hello Giggles. If you're interested in the reconciling of religious faith to today's less than religiously inclined society, this is the place to go.



10 Precious Pumpkins 

Donna Martin Graduates (to prostitution): My favorite made for TV movies.

Universal Rules that You Should Break

Say Anything (But Really, say what?): Five teen movie scenarios that seem romantic but are actually really weird.

14-year-old Pakistani Girl Malala shot by the Taliban for being a Feminist blogger.

Canmore.

Important topics for the rest of the Presidential debates. (This is funny. So read it anyway because might not be as obsessed with the American election as I am.)

If the Presidential and Vice-Presidential candidates went to a typical teen-movie High School. (also funny and accurate)

ALSO! I entered a contest to win a Scholarship from a Jewelry company in Regina, SK - Hillberg and Berk who is in collaboration with writer, director, producer Jennifer Siebel Newsom, of the phenomenal documentary Miss Representation. We were required to make a video proclaiming our call to action in upholding the mission of Miss Representation - which you can read more about at missrepresentation.org.

IF I make it to the top 5 videos, which will be posted on Facebook, the public will determine the winner. Which I think is lame. But I'm obviously going to make the most of it. Scholarships are scholarships. SO! Here's my video, so you know what you're looking for. I'll let you know if I do indeed make the top 5 as I will require you to go to Facebook and do whatever have to in order to vote for me. Thanks a bunch guys.



Oh, also, feel free to laugh at my legitimate dance/lip synch. It's truly laughable. But come on. We do what we do for money.

Reprise: TC style.

Today in my teenage angst, I reaffirmed for myself all the truths presented in this video.


I just love. I just love all the things.

Every year Cineplex has a 'Community Day' which works as a fundraiser for their children's charity. Five movies are presented for anyone to attend, free of charge. Certain concession items are sold for $2.  It's such a great time.

When I saw that MI: GP was on the list, it became the only option. Luckily my dear friend Sonya-Rose, who I lovingly call SR, has the same fondness for action films as I do. It's a long movie, right, but I was there the whole time. Mind, body and soul. I'm just kidding.

Aristotle had a theory regarding the purpose of tragic plays - what we would now purpose as horror films. The fear involved plays a cathartic role in releasing us of those fears for our own lives. We leave the theatre refreshed, having seen the horrors we most fear displayed before us, we can move on with our lives, leaving those fears behind.

This is what action movies do for me. They are such a thrilling rush of excitement. The type of thrilling excitement that I would never seek out for myself. Watching my TC and Jeremy Rens and Paula Patton (bless you for being so kick-ass) perform those acts for me, is enough to take it out of my system. As I watched this film for the second time, I thought to myself, I could enjoy watching this regularly in the future, as I seek out that cathartic cleanse, courtesy of Jason Bourne, Ethan Hunt, and more recently Hanna (no last name). What a 90s diva.

Sickster.

This week, in all the teenage angst my body would allow, I got sick. It's funny because I often proclaim my body's rock solid immune system. But the flue that's currently circulating got me. It got me like an effing mosquito that I didn't know was there. And I was helpless against it.

See when I was a child I ate a lot of crap. Off the ground. Off the counter. Off the floor. If it looked edible, or tasty, or like something I wanted in my mouth, I put it there. You know that commercial, "Don't you put it in your mouth?" That was specifically directed at me. This habit may have only ended  a little over a year ago. I once found a mini-egg under my friend's couch and truthfully told her that it was kind of a miracle I didn't eat it. The point is, my body built up a resistance to whatever may have been accompanying that crap and as a result, colds don't come my way often, and neither does the flue.

Three days! Three days, I say, I was house bound. Weak, nauseous, achy, constipated (of all things) and greasy, because I couldn't force myself in the shower. This was my view, from the living room floor, for the greater part of two days. It was sad.

On the plus side I watched Manhattan Murder Mystery, a Woody Allen flick featuring a hysterical Diane Keaton. She is so boss. It was an absurdist comedy and just too wonderful for words. I also made my way through Thor, Baby Mama (a continued favorite. Please watch for Tina Fey and Amy Poehler goodness), and today I started The Big Year. Talk about an all star cast. I haven't finished it, but we have at the Library in addition to it being on Netflix. As such, I will be recommending it to everyone.

Today I am better . . . ish. I fell asleep shortly after my family left at 7.30 and slept until noon. I guess I needed that third day. My body still aches some but I'm certain I'll be able to go to work tomorrow.

It really just confirms for me, that I don't know how to be sick. I've been blessed to not get the flue very often in my quarter-life crisis. But it drives me to the point questioning everything I know about my body. What are these symptoms? How are they related? Do they indicate different things at different times? How should I treat one without angering the other and vice versa!?

Turns out this was exactly the flue that was circulating and exactly the flue that I contracted from working with the public. Sigh. But that's the story. I guess. I'll get better at this.

Tits. (an analysis of a colloquialism)

**This post isn't actually about Tits.

Today in my teenage angst, a male friend of mine uttered this statement: "If it has tits or tires, it'll give you trouble and cost you money but for the ones that are worth it, you won't care." Can we all identify the offensive and oppressive elements of this statement? Yes? Okay. Now can we identify the part of the statement that might allow the speaker to see it as an entirely non-oppressive statement?

When I questioned him about his use of these words and the compilation of them into this statement, he tried to hug me exclaiming, "I said for the ones that are worth it!!!" Sorry, friend, this doesn't make it better.

I have several problems to present.

Let's start with the word 'Tits'. I've never liked this word. It's like the word dick. It sounds vulgar and its usage is almost always unnecessary. I think people like to use these words because they're seeming less abrasive than 'nipple' or 'penis'; the actual anatomical elements to which they are referring. The word 'Tits' stems from the word 'tits' (pronounced 'teets'), which refer to the mammalian body parts that produce milk for the purpose of nourishing offspring. Since all female mammals have tits, the evolution of its usage into a word only referring to women - often negatively - makes sense. From a patriarchal standpoint anyhow. But let's remind ourselves that human males also have tits. They're just not life-giving tits. So when one refers to something that has tits, are they referring to all female mammals and human males, or do they really mean someone with breasts? Because this distinction needs to be made.

Then, if one who uses this word actually means a person with breasts, why is the assumption that the one with breasts will give you trouble and cost you money. Perhaps the one without breasts will give the one with breasts trouble and cost the one with breasts money. These statements are not mutually exclusive.

Furthermore, why is the one with breasts, compared to a thing with tires? I think this is the biggest problem. Because it assumes an(other) exclusivity of the male relationship with vehicles and with women. Males also have relationships with vehicles and other men. Females too have relationships with vehicles as well as other men and women. Beyond all of this, it reduces the one with breasts to the level of inanimate. I don't know where this idea came from; that the mode of transportation should be considered on the same level as a human. I obviously understand that people highly value their modes of transportation but the idea that the owners of those vehicles are actually putting them ahead of other human relationships, I see to be entirely false.

The point is, that for the complexity of male/female relationships to stop being seen through a patriarchal lens, we need to stop using oppressive statements like this one. I want the discomfort that arises from the presentation of a statement like this, to be understood. Because I'm thinking about it critically. And I'm not sure the user always is. This friend is an incredible husband and a very loving father. He's not the problem. Our twisting of the English language is the problem. When we use colloquialisms like 'tit' we infer things that we were never meant to communicate. We were never meant to demean or belittle someone because of their anatomical differences. This goes so far beyond breasts, people. But I think this is a good place to start.

Ugg.

Today in my teenage angst, I bring up a seemly meaningless issue. It's not an issue at all, really, but rather a phenomenon that never ceases to baffle me. This phenom, is Uggs.

Gleaned from the wikipedia page on the subject - because everybody needs to know the history of Uggs Boots -, the "boots emerged as a fashion trend in the United States in the late 1990s and as a world-wide trend in the late 2000s, yet in Australia they are worn predominantly as slippers and associated with "daggy" fashion sense, and "bogan" culture." Not that we know what any of that means, as we do not come from the land down under, as our friends the Men at Work, like to say.

My first encounter with Uggs came in the fall of 2005 when a friend of mine (and her boyfriend, oddly enough) got a pair of Uggs in a burnt orange. They were astounding. They were so ugly and yet I wanted them. She let me borrow them one day and I paired them with jeans, a white oxford shirt and an argyle sweater vest. I remember thinking I looked damn good. And I think at the time, I did. Oh I should also mention, they were two sizes too big and if you've ever worn Uggs, you'll understand that this was bound to be a problem. I could hardly walk and I seem to remember shoving kleenex in the toes. I was an exceedingly vain eighteen year old. 

This week, as I walked the halls of the University of Regina, I played a game with myself. Count the Uggs. On Tuesday, I saw 22 pairs. Today, I counted 38. It's kind of astonishing how common these sad looking boots are. It's not that I don't understand it. They're comfortable, they're comforting. They're like sweatpants for your feet. When my best friend was pregnant she literally had to wear her Uggs, because it was the winter and she couldn't bend down far enough to actually put shoes on, so she had to have boots she could just step into. 

I think my biggest issue is that I'm a footwear snob. I don't understand wearing shoes that make your feet look bigger than they actually are. I seem to exclusively wear shoes that are essentially slippers with soles. With the exception of my army boots. Which, is a true exception as it is the farthest from my seeming otherwise exclusivity. 

So, Uggs wearer, excuse me while I judge you in the hall. It's not you I judge for wearing them, for I understand your reasoning in full. It is the shoes I judge, for being so ugly in the first place. 

Roger.

Today in my teenage angst, I cruelly laughed at a classmate, - who's name I cannot for the life of me remember -, due to his obsession with and gratuitous (still the word of the post) care for Roger Federer.

If you're not a tennis fan or follower, you probably don't know that a foolish fan, known as a 'mystery blogger' (aren't we all mystery bloggers?) posted a death threat about Roger Federer somewhere online. I assume it was on his blog. 

As a tennis fan, I find this sad. Roger Federer is seemingly the nicest. And he has the kind of hair that he'll never cut, that just makes you want to hug him. He also has three year old twin girls and a beautiful wife who is frequently featured at his games. He has a life, you know? Everyone wants Roger to win, but we know that if he loses, he still goes home to his beautiful wife and daughters. Not to mention the fact that he's ranked number one. He's loaded. 

My classmate though, his reaction was not so tame. His reaction was one of patriotic responsibility. If there was an army for the united states of Roger Federer, he would have enlisted immediately. As he told me the news as soon as I arrived in the classroom, he was visibly concerned for the safety of our dear Roger. "I should be there! I should be flying to Shanghai right now!" he exclaimed, believing himself to be the best protection from the inevitable sniper weapon aimed at Federer's forehead. 

I tried to explain to him the minuscule probability of this horror actually coming to fruition. He found this insulting. Well, why wouldn't people want to kill Roger Federer? We argued about the differences between Federer and John Lennon. 

He assured me that if Roger was indeed assassinated, I would feel terrible for thinking it wouldn't happen. Also, in that case, he would be taking the day off of class to mourn and would I please take notes for him. 

Well sure, friend. Sure.

Linksies.

Today in my teenage angst, I'm not as cool as Nova. She just turned 30. Haha. By accident, just then I typed in 39. And then accidently put in 30. Sigh. Also, here is a gratuitous (it's the word of the post) picture of me, my best friend and my niece, who kindly came to cheer me on after my half-marathon. Paisley was . . . a little tired. But nice enough to pose for a picture.

Nova, just turned 30. And her blog is pretty boss. And she doesn't say things like boss. Anyway, she does 'Links' posts regularly and I regularly repost stuff of hers. It's like a non-automatic tumblr. I started doing links posts in August when I was far too tired to blog but kept finding all this amazing stuff online. I've been saving a whack-a-mole of links because I feel like doing links posts and nothing else is lazy. So I took a break from blogging at all. But I'm back at it because I figured out how to get internet at my school and my Critical Thinking class is a gratuitous waste of time. Good glory I hate it. 

So here we go! Oh. And I'm not as cool as Nova because she does links posts as a consistent part of her blog and I do them because I'm lazy. But this is intentional! I promise.

Pianist improvises the Harry Potter Theme in every style known to man.

I don't know why I'm crying. (Ps. If you're not on Hello Giggles, you should be. I get a lot, a lot, a lot out of the site. A lot. 

Probably one of the best ventriloquist acts ever: Nina Conti.

8 Magical Movie Montages.

And Now! Your day has been made!

See this was funny during the Olympics, which shows you just how long I've been saving these.

You have to watch this U.S. Gymnast's hilarious parents react to her bar routine.

Tap to Retry.

Trust Fall Attack.

Japanese Beatbox Girl.

Okay that's all you get. I just discovered I have an assignment due tomorrow that I wasn't aware of. Luckily it's for that gratuitous waste of time, Critical Thinking, so it shouldn't take too long. Ha. I'm a snob, I'm aware, leave it alone. 

T-Giving.

Today in my teenage angst, I made a huge deal of my favorite weekend of the year. I look forward to Thanksgiving (which I insist on calling T-giving, because I think it's cool) every year, because on the Thanksgiving weekends of the last two years of my first undergrad, I brought a million people home for the weekend and they were the best two weekends of my life.

The first year included friends Michelle, Charyssa and her sister Loreea. Michelle had never been to my house for a weekend before and spent the first hour inspecting our cupboards. Michelle really likes food. She says her love language is gifts of food. Charyssa and Loreea didn't arrive until late Friday, but we made the most of it. We went on several walks, ate a lot of food, did some homework, and laughed. We laughed. My parents, as I've said before, are very generous people. I like to make use of this.

The next year included friends Michelle, Charyssa (who graciously travelled seven hours to join us. I may have made her), Laura and Priscilla. The latter two were new additions to my group of people I dearly loved/still love and were equally welcomed into my home. I conned them into watching The Hours, which no one was prepared for, and wouldn't let them ask questions until it was over. That was mean of me. And a bad idea for everyone's psyche. That movie is a lot. Especially if you're not prepared. Priscilla, Laura and I all bought the same hat and wore them the next week.

Both of those years it snowed. Heavy, uncharacteristically wet, flakes of snow. They were gone a few days later, but we went out and reveled in their glory anyhow.

Both of these weekends seemed to last forever. Largely because they were four days long; practically vacations. But we seemed to pack everything into those weekends. So much so that when they were over, I couldn't wait to do it again.

I look forward to Thanksgiving every year because I'm desperate for it to be like it was. It never is. My Thanksgiving weekend in Newfoundland was less than awesome and the two I've had since returning have been sub-par, but good. I'm so lucky to have have the kind of experiences that when repeated, will be overshadowed by the greater ones past. Even so I long for my dearest(s) to return to me and help recapture the wonder of Thanksgiving weekend.

I'm grateful for so much this year, and I suppose that should include what this weekend used to be.

Lab Hair.

Last night, in my teenage angst, I went a little crazy.

I did online distance classes all last year, through a university in Newfoundland. A full course load. It was a great exercise in creating an awareness of my abilities. I didn't know I could own my education and balance working, child care provisions, and a band (of all things) on top of it. It was a good idea. I was very responsible and thought, distance education is a good thing.

So when I was registering for classes this fall and saw the language requirement on my program outline, I thought, French! Online! I did french in high school and found it not only valuable, living in Canada, but fun. French is beautiful, and I already know the phonetics, so GPA, up you go!

Online French, while still a good idea, is not as fun as anticipated. It saves me from the tedium of learning what I already know in a classroom setting. That would be a waste of time. But it doesn't save me from the tedium of our weekly online lab through Adobe Connect.

Adobe Connect is a brilliant program. Used largely for simulcast and business purposes, it also enables online education to add a distinctly personal element. This, however, undoes all of my selfish reasons for doing distance education. It's about me! It's only ever about me. Our weekly lab time, strips me of that anonymity and forces me into sad beginner French conversations with others students.

Last night, I had a massive headache going into the Lab, and as we completed the exercises and the 1200mg of extra strength Ibuprophen kicked in, I became increasingly hyper. I instigated hilarious conversation with my breakout-group partners, missed several points of instruction from my professor, and took these pictures. Note the despair that turns into madness that turns back into despair.  

The answer is to avoid online classes with labs that feel like a bad internet dating site. Otherwise you'll end up with a series of strange pictures capturing how poorly spent those 90 minutes were.

Fresh.

Today in my teenage angst, I looked upon a group of high-school age freshmen with a weird maternal love and pride. These freshmen are my Psych B classmates, who generally insist on texting, talking and doing their Chem homework during class. Not that I'm any different. I just don't have anyone to talk to.

We wrote our midterm today. A fairly average experience for myself, having survived three apparently untransferrable semesters of introductory psych. Academic Institution! You're already transferred in two  400 level psychs. Is another introductory 100 level credit really necessary? Damnit!

Annyywwaayy. I sat in the lounge below our classroom following the exam, texting and sort of (but not really at all) reviewing for my next exam. Several freshmen emerged and exclaimed their exasperation with the exam. You're welcome for that exemplary alliteration. "The true and false was so hard," they said, "Why was so much of it based on the textbook? I didn't read the textbook, did you?" I found this precious for a number of reasons.

First, because I have been there. Oh have I been there.

Second, because the group launched directly from that discussion, into a complex explanation of previously assigned Biology homework, and the scientific process there-in. Clearly these children had been High School science success stories. I was not student. I certainly survived my high school science classes, but not with the 98% that these kids inevitably got. It's funny how objective fields like Bio and Chem make a 4.0 gpa available to anyone who can kill their lab assignments. I was far too disinterested for this, but nonetheless admired those who found this achievement comforting and doable. One of the boys noted that the comma splice is a concept that he has no interest in understanding or applying. That too, I admire. He knows his strengths. He is also willing to identify his laziness. That, at the age of 18, or even 19, if I happen to be underestimating him, is admirable.

My highest hope for him is that he will not let his struggle in the humanities undermine his academic experience. I want him to fall into an area of study that allows him to excel, while still developing the 'nit-picky' skills he needs to fully succeed. Sweetie - speaking to that freshman now - that means learning how to avoid comma splices in your lab write-ups.

I don't really understand why people bemoan freshmen so much. Freshmen become seniors, who then bemoan freshmen. I'm grateful to be at a stage where I appreciate the process, right down to it's hilarious-to-watch beginning stages.

God bless freshmen, every one. I am currently agonizing about whether or not that's a comma splice.

PS. That pic is me as a freshmen. Yes, I am still a Diva. Though I'll deny it and be horrendously offended if you ever call me one.

Aubrey.

Today in my teenage angst I need you to watch this. All of you. Alllllll of you. Save it for later if you need to.

It's the beginning of Fall, which means all new TV. I watch a lot of TV. Here is an unnecessary list of the shows I watch in case you want to talk about them with me. I like to talk about television because obsession with fictional stories is easier than an obsession with my own.

Drama
- Bones
- Criminal Minds
- Grey's Anatomy
- Homeland

Comedy
- How I Met Your Mother
- 2 Broke Girls
- New Girl
- Modern Family
- Big Bang Theory
- 30 Rock
- Parks and Recreation
- Community

I'm probably forgetting one. I'm always forgetting one. I made a list of all the shows I've seen in their entirety. It's long. It's really really long.

Anyway, I caught up on Parks and Recreation yesterday and loved on Aubrey Plaza. She's kind of one note, in that whole dead pan, dead eyes, un-emotional and unforgiving kind of thing. But in the context of Parks and Rec, she's effing hilarious.

Then I saw this. In the context of this, she's effing brilliant. The viewer of this video is made to speculate on several levels about the situational context of Aubrey's character. But the emotion, in every situational speculation, is undeniable. Please watch. Be inspired. And then talk to me about how awesome TV is.

TY: A window into my childhood.

Folk Fest and that guy from High School.

Room-Dweller.

Today in my teenage angst, I join the 30 odd-% of 25 year olds that live with their parents. My parents are really nice people. They re-opened their doors to me when I was 23, when I burned out after eleven semesters of college. After a semester off, they were open to having me stay as I transfered to a college close to home to finish six more semesters of school. Two semesters later I can't even believe I have two years left. Not because it's bad. It's actually so great, but because it's two whole years and I'm learning that 25 year olds aren't meant to live with their parents. That or parents aren't meant to live with their 25 year old kids. I've become somewhat of a room-dweller living with them because I'm a TV addict and they mostly only watch re-runs of the Big Bang Theory while falling asleep on the couch. I don't really want to do that so I watch Netflix alone in my room. I'm over it.

Last month my parents went on vacation. I was so pumped. A whole house to myself! Woo! Plus, during the ridiculously hot days of summer, I could sleep in their room in the basement, saving myself the trouble of falling asleep sweating. They were gone for a day short of two weeks. The whole time I was in this limbo of wanting to enjoy the house to myself and mostly just wanting to watch Monk. The best part about it was that the house stayed pretty clean the whole time because I'm pretty good at taking care of the mess of one. The other best part about it was that I was pretty allowed to walk around in whatever state-of-dress I wanted, because there was no one to be offended by my skin.

The worst part about it was the silence. The worst part of living alone is always the silence. I hugged them both for a long time when they got home and scheduled myself two nights a week to make dinner so I would start feeling like a valuable part of the household. I just appreciate it so much, you know. Like how many 25 year olds like their parents enough to make use of their willingness to take care of them rain or shine? Maybe there's a reverse of that statement too. How many parents are willing to provide food and shelter for their 25 year olds no questions asked? Not that there aren't questions. Oh there are. But that's pretty normal for parents I think.