Life: My Personal Psychosomatic Playground

Excuse me, but could you tell me if this cloth smells like chloroform?

2009-07-28T17:47:00.000-04:00

Dear World,

Have you ever stopped and thought about how much time we waste? I mean, honestly, people spend so much time accomplishing nothing when they could instead be doing something productive, like becoming a Rubiks cube master, or mass-producing chocolate-covered almonds for the starving children of East New Guinea.

Take for instance the image shown above. That was made using a Facebook application called Graffiti. Ever heard of it? It's something like the Microsoft program Paint, only you take away all the tools except the round brush.

Can you even comprehend how ridiculously long it would take to create such a thing using a round brush? It's ridiculous! It's preposterous! It's egregious! It's superfluous! It's weird..ous...!

(I fail at using befitting vocabulary.)

Another example of wasting time: me, right now. I got home from school about two hours ago, and I've got to leave for volleyball practice in about one. So how much homework have I done? None. Anna '13 for procrastination club president.

I just realized I've talked about how little I do homework in both entries of this blog. What a sad turn of events. Now my problem has reached not only my school and home life, but my blog life. I need rehab.

Okay.

Okay.

*exhale*

I can do this.

...Homework.

Wish me luck fair citizens, for I shall need it!

Much Love,
Anna.

Maybe In Another Lifetime

2009-05-12T18:36:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged in much too long. I've been going into blog withdrawal and spending my days curled up in a ball in the corner of a black-and-white photograph. Yeah. That's how intense it is.

Okay, that might possibly be a little bit of a lie. I've actually been doing a lot lately, including productive activities such as watching movies and attending volleyball tournaments. I highly recommend There's Something About Mary. And I am the ultimate judge of humor, so take this recommendation with much import.

Ugh. I can't function without my iPod... I'm such a technaholic. They say that a hero is only as good as his weapon - I am only as good as my iPod, laptop, and cellphone. Continuing with the random hero metaphor, I'm going to apply my situation to that of the hero in a Greek tragedy. How epic am I?

Anyway... you might be wondering about why I don't have my iPod (you know you are - don't deny it!). It's because today at my volleyball tournament, someone else took it home because I have the exact same iPod as everyone - fourth generation purple nano. Yeah. I bet you have it too. Because everyone does. I think I'm going to paint mine with puffy paint to give it a little flavor.

Does anyone but me in the entire world listen to Eve 6? I think I might be the only one, ever. No one I ask has ever heard of them, which is ridiculous... I sort of thought they were popular. Interesting. Anyway, I especially like this one song of theirs, On the Roof Again. I learned two new words listening to that song - copasetic and hymen - only one of which is even remotely dirty. Listen to the song, and look up the words; your magnificent vocabulary will expand, right before your very eyes! *Launches into merry music-accompanied schpeal about how it only costs $19.99 and if you order now you can get a free toaster.*

You know, "schpeal" isn't a word. But I use it all the time... it's actually semi-absurd. I have way too many words like that - words that aren't real, but that I use anyway.

So, um... mazel tov, crazystairs.

Much Love,
Anna.

Eccentricities. Feeling querulous. And bigwordulous. Multisyllabic? Yeah.

2009-04-25T14:32:00.014-04:00

I'm fairly certain that I would do at least semi-decently in school were I to just get off the internet and study.

Of course, that would not follow my personality in the least. My parents would probably be so shocked that they'd assume I was a martian who'd stolen the body of their daughter, so they'd pull their government strings and get their FBI connections to come take me away, which would cause a huge media scandal and send the world spiraling into a massive anarchist uprising, eventually ending in the depolyment of nuclear weaponry and causing the apocalypse.

So instead I'm just going to finish this blog entry like I normally would.

Okay, I don't know how much of my avid, devoted million-person readership uses Facebook, but for anyone who does, what do you think of the whole "Fan Page" feature? For those who don't know, Facebook has a function where you can become a fan of a certain page, and it'll show up on your profile so you can declare to all of your friends/creepy pedophile stalkers that yes, you are a fan of snow globes.

Anyway, the variety of fan pages that people make never cease to amuse me. Today I noted that 28 of my friends have become fans of "not being on fire." Myself, I'm a fan of sarcasm, pizza, and sleeping.

Another popular Facebook function is the "LivingSocial" application, which I must admit is a fairly entertaining use of all the free time I have when I should be doing homework. The use of LivingSocial is simple - you just choose a category ("Movies," "TV Shows," "Things to Have When A Zombie Attacks") from their list, then choose your top five. There's a pretty common trend among people who partake in this choosing of their Top Five anything, and I'm going to do you the privilege of telling you the exact formula of your average Facebook-using teenage conformist.

Let's use the example of "5 Things I've Wanted to be When I Grow Up." First, just choose two things that you actually have wanted to do. But make sure they make you look very cool and very mainstream ("singerrrr!! like lady gaga omggg!!" ; "teacherr =)"). Second, choose one thing that you probably have not wanted to be, but that makes everyone think, "Wow. That's a smart, good person." For bonus points, choose something you know nothing about and make that clear to anyone with half a brain cell. ("botanical engineer!! so i can make a car that runs on water and save the world <3").>

Fourth and finally, choose "Chuck Norris." Because everyone will think you are very cool for choosing Chuck Norris. Be warned, though - it might not make sense in context. Ignore this, and proceed.

Much Love,

Anna.

Now see here, crazystairs.

2009-04-07T12:34:00.005-04:00

I am a very healthy person, thank you.

However, when I do get sick, it is at the absolute most inopportune time possible. Seriously, the most. It's irritating. Don't believe me? Check out my superfun bulleted list of examples. (And I mean, c'mon, who can distrust a superfun bulleted list of examples?)

August 1999. I get sick and miss the first day of Kingergarten. As a result, I freak out and think everyone's going to hate me and have one friend until third grade.

April 2001. I start to see double, so I tell me mom, who takes me to the eye doctor, who tells her I have a brain tumor and to get to the hospital. On Easter weekend. I throw up on my new Easter dress, but I get to live. (That was the trade-off, I've decided.)

September 2008. First day of high school. I sleep through my first class, and go on to make everyone think I'm a total jerk by just sitting down by a tree while my group builds the tower without me in our fun-first-day-of-school-bonding-activity. I get the prize for their efforts, then head to the nurse's office. I miss the first week of school.

See? Point proven.

I haven't posted in quite a while. For that, I apologize. This entry has actually been sitting in the "entries in progress" bin for about a week; in the original post, I described each of the above situations in enormous, totally unnecessary detail (mostly the second bullet actually). Entry Version 2.0 will be less mind-blowingly boring, less mind-blowingly boringly long, and will less mind-blowingly boringly longly tell more things. (My ability to paint words is amazing, no?)

Anyway. This weekend is spring formal. I've been enlightened by almost every upperclassman friend I have that it's boring, but oddly, I want to go anyway...

I have no stories to tell at the moment. There are probably plenty I could tell, but none that I feel are necessary right about now. So you'll just have to wait for after Saturday. (I know, the suspense is killing you... sorry about that, it's a serial killer. We're thinking it has severe mental problems).

Much Love,

Anna.

You're so wise. You're like a miniature Buddha, covered in hair.

2009-03-16T02:24:00.009-04:00

From the looks of this room, it seems that I am awake.

Interesting.

Leave it to me to procrastinate for six hours and then find myself awake and without any homework done at 3 o'clock in the morning.

I find myself doing the most ridiculous, pointless things after sleep deprivation kicks in and takes over my consciousness. For instance, about twenty minutes ago, I decided that it would probably be beneficial to get some laundry done. So I sorted out the dirty clothes and put in the light load, my looming pile of homework not really at the forefront of my mind. And now, still trying to ignore that pile, I write a blog entry. My very first on this blog.

And here you are, reading said "entry," probably in lieu of doing something important with your time.

Oh, the power.

For lack of a transition...

I find high school dances amusing to witness. Especially the fact that there is little "dancing" involved. If you're a high schooler, admit it now - you know exactly what I mean, and probably have participated.

The lights are dimmed. Lights flash across the loud, sweaty crowd. A song comes on. It's Wannabe. The Spice Girls. As soon as the girls recognize it (or don't, but pretend that they do), they squeal and start to jump in place, sometimes to the beat, sometimes not, then turn to their closest group of gal-pals and start to scream the lyrics. If you wanna be my lova...

And then something new comes on - Love Game by Lady GaGa. Instantly, the tides turn, and the happy, singing female dance participants instantly transform into hormonal grinding machines whose dance moves look more like an epileptic in a strobe light store. (Good Lord, that was distasteful.)

And then, the slow song. I Wanna Be, by Chris Brown. There's a mad dash for a dancing partner. Couples seek their significant other out, leaving the rest frantically searching the crowd for someone to dance with. The less optimistic of the bunch slip off the dance floor as discreetly as they can; the rest of the females wait, not for long, alone. If they aren't asked after the first few seconds of the song, it's off to the group of girls who pretend to think they're funny by slow-dancing with another girl, really just masking their disappointment at not getting asked by the cute guy over there in the green shirt who's dancing with that bitch I hate.

And just to clear it up, by "dance," I mean hands-on-shoulders, hands-on-waist, step left, step right, continue until song is over.

Now don't get me wrong, I participate in most parts of the high school dance ritual. I tend to shy away from the epileptic sex-with-clothes-on thing though, and instead head to the just as common circle of girls who can't dance but try anyway.

Yikes... the homework pile seems to have found a way to reproduce and is growing... I'm going to have to go stop this madness before people get hurt. Click it or ticket guys.

Much Love,
Anna.

The product of massive math class boredom.

2009-03-15T17:47:00.000-04:00