Its not stalking, its people-watching!

I really like to people-watch.
It's not stalking, I swear. It's people-watching. Like bird-watching, but more interesting because you're looking at things that have the same number of chromosomes as you, and you're sitting there wondering if you do things like they do.
There are lots of places to people-watch and be a general creeper, but there are a few really specific places that I love to go because it means I can sit behind my laptop, write (or pretend to write as it usually ends up), and then just watch people come and go and look at all the different types of faces and hear all the voices and just soak up social interaction without actually having to be social. We all do that, it's just that I think I do it more often than most people. I love to see how others interact, how couples kind of fall into place next to each other if they're in love or how they physically separate themselves if they're not (anymore).
Also, it makes it very easy to witness awesome things that you normally wouldn't if you weren't watching closely. I saw a guy donate a sandwich from Jimmy Johns to a homeless guy once, then sit down to eat lunch with him and talk; that kind of stuff makes me very happy.
I once saw an old couple feed each other a bite of granola each, then the old man kissed her cheek. It was precious.
I also regularly witness people picking their noses. But that comes with the territory.

So, I'm giving you (all two of you who actually read this) my favorite places to (creep) people-watch.

Top 5 List of Best places to People-Watch:

1. Airport
Everyone (except for the truly phobic and not-fit-for-public folks) flies at some point in their lives if you're living in modern America. There is no easier way to get to far out places and to be honest, I think people get really excited--no matter how old they are--about getting on planes. There's something awesome about it that no one can explain, but we do it anyways.
Anyways, the airport is freaking awesome just for the reason that everyone goes. Yeah, you've got your boring suits and the regular airpot security people basically dominating the place, but in between are some wacky folks. And--if your luck is anything like mine--you'll probably end up sitting next to one of the more interesting ones who have done something spectacular that they are on their way home from. You learn a lot about people when they're stressed out (and who isn't stressed out these days about getting through security?) and it's fun to see the different ways people dress and act when they're being watched by hawks who are ready to tackle them to the ground for just about any reason. Then again...sometimes they do have reason to be a little suspicious of folks who do this.

2. Library
I am positive that I am not the only weirdo who creeps on people in the library. When those around you are entirely engrossed in whatever they're procrastinating their homework on, it's really easy to just space out and watch them. Or, if you're in the computer clusters/labs, you can sometimes see what people are Googling or looking at and you learn something about them. Like the guy who I sat next to in my criminal research class? He had no clue how to use the research databases we were supposed to be searching for journal articles, so instead, he went onto his fantasy football thing and started cursing under his breath about something.
Or, what I always like to see, is when people are on websites that "mature college kids" shouldn't generally frequent. Like neopets. Or barbie.com. Because I've seen it, and it's a little funny, a little sad, and a lot telling.
No one should let go of their childhoods!
Also, people have a tendency to forget themselves when they're really into what they're studying, so they start doing weird shit that they normally wouldn't while in public.

No, I've never seen this in real life, but someone probably has.

3. Mall

This is obvious. Teeny boppers are stupid, insipid little creatures who sometimes have less personality than infants BUT they're fucking hilarious to watch while in packs. They group together like a big amoeba made of Hollister and too much eyeliner and giggle and shriek at whatever comes their way.

Old folks are also fun to watch in malls; they have absolutely no clue what to do with the cacophony and are totally befuddled by the masses of people. They scuttle from shop to shop, armed with oversized bags that they use as pseudo-shields. If one of the vendors says something to them, they freak; hold up their bags, shake their heads "no" over-emphatically, and scurry toward wherever it is they're going, eyes wide and buggy behind their massively thick glasses.
And around Valentine's Day and the winter holidays, you see men more often looking really, pathetically confused in jewelry stores as too-peppy, perky-scary-happy saleswomen try to push them toward stuff they really really shouldn't be buying.
Here's a bit of advice on that subject, boys: If it scares you to look at the ring display and you cringe when your girlfriend drops meteor-sized hints about possibly-maybe-starting to think about "it," then either walk away from the store and go get her a book or something personal but not commitment-defining, or re-evaluate your relationship.
Don't buy it if you're not ready, and for G-d's sake don't be bullied into buying it!

4. Coffee Houses
My mom bought me the little bingo-cards you see below. It's called cafe bingo and it was made for someone like me (read: a creeper) so that me and my creeper friends (read: taylor and beth) can be creepers with a purpose.
Anyways, coffee houses are great because there are people studying (so the library thing), people talking to each other and interacting(so the mall thing), and you have the crazies (because everyone likes coffee or tea, just like how almost everyone uses the airport, no matter how weird they are). Its like a big old jumble of insanity and I love it.
Also, I love coffee. A lot. Taylor and I went today and there were people playing "Magic: The Gathering." 'Nuff said.

5. Bookstores
Ok yes lets get over the fact that I'm a bookworm and a nerd/geek/freak whatever. Ok yes I like to read. A lot. And yes, I also enjoy going to bookstores and just looking at the cover art because that shit is fucking gorgeous. I want to do cover art someday, but doubtful that I'll ever be able to unless I write my own book. Which is also obscenely doubtful since I can barely update this with any regularity.


Getting over all that, bookstores are great because of the people who frequent them. There are obnoxious hipsters, yeah (if I see one more male wearing jorts, a lumberjack beard and/or those glasses, I'm gonna scream), but there are also some really really interesting types. The littler, older bookstores are the best because you usually get into the most fascinating conversations with the owners if you ask the right questions(who are by trade just amazingly interesting) and you learn about random things. Bookstores are more for conversational people-watching, which is why they're at the end of the list, but they're good if you feel like being social with people who you're not always social with.

My basic point is this:
G-d is great, Modern transportation is good, books are better, and people are fucking nuts.

Love,
Miss G.

Things That Make Me Cry.

Normal nights when we aren't being idiots. The pretty one on the left is Beth. The idiot with the awkward shiny spot (on the right) is me.

As it is, I'm the type of girl who cries when it's not appropriate. I don't cry at funerals unless I have to say something, I rarely cry if something awful happens to me or my family, but I will cry at the mere thought of something horrible happening to someone I love. I imagine these horrible terrible scenarios where I lose someone I'm close to, or I'm the one who's lost and I forgot to say something important to someone important...really the list goes on. The things I think of right before I fall asleep are anything but pleasant, so it's really not a wonder that it takes me hours to really get to sleep. I cry in private or with those I trust if it's really something that I shouldn't be alone to deal with. Had a bit of experience with the whole "needing someone to make sure I don't make good on sarcastic (and totally not serious, by the way) comments about flinging myself off the nearest building above six stories tall," so I've finally grasped the importance behind having someone there. Even if I don't want people to see me all red-eyed and teary and goobery.

Anyways, Beth and I were recently sitting in our floor lounge one night, and then somehow we got on the subject of crying and I realized that I hadn't cried since I found out about my Uncle dying. Really, that's quite a long time for me (November), so jump a few minutes in the conversation and we're reading this pathetically sad website, and I'm bawling. Then Beth gets this idea to listen to sad songs, and about 20 minutes after that, she's a mess and I'm barely holding it together.
That's literally how we spent our night. Talking about sad stuff and then crying about said sadness, then laughing hysterically at ourselves for being so pathetic, and then we decided to just roll with it.
So we cried. For about 3 hours, sitting in the lounge, listening to sad songs.

Feel free.

And you know what? It felt damn good right afterward. I liked the feeling of just bawling my eyes out for a certain amount of time, and it was just...cathartic. That's the word, cathartic.
Like I was letting just a whole five month's worth of frustration and little bits of "sad" out in one big rush.
I felt soooo much better the next day, thank goodness. I literally woke up smiling for some reason.
Then I hit my head on Grace's bed, so I stopped smiling.

Anyways, this post is kind of going to be a little bit more of that cathartic-ness. I like things that make me cry, but only when I feel like actually doing that crying. If you're looking to bawl your eyes out, check those songs out and really really listen to the lyrics. If you're really looking to cry, read the first 6 chapters of Jane Eyre (my favorite book in the whole wide world) and just wallow in deep-set hatred of Victorian well-to-do families.
Then read Mansfield Park, and wonder if Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte were best friends. Because I'm basically positive that they were, logic be damned.

Without further babbling, here's a list of things that make me cry.

5. Leaving. Anything.
Even if I'm super happy to be doing the leaving, I'm still going to cry a little bit. Probably. Because in some way, wherever I end up changes me. The places I go and the people I meet always always always have some sort of an effect on me. I'm like a sponge; I take everything I can from the people/places I meet/live, and I just absorb it into my system for as long as I can. I don't give much (which is bad), but I take and take and take from the people I meet, and then I try and wring myself out on someone else, so they can benefit at least a fraction of how much as I did.

4. GivesMeHope.Com and MakesMeThink.Com
Really?! Really, someone had to make these websites just for the sole purpose of sickos like me who like to read inspirational/tragic/happy stories that literally bring tears to your eyes (if you're not an ogre). Beth and I timed it; it took me 3 pages to start crying, but it took her 4. Then we listened to this Christmas song that she really likes and that was just the end of that.

3. Sad (Country) Songs
Who I Am- Jessica Andrews
Letter to Me- Brad Paisley
100 Years- The Fray
Where Are You Christmas- Faith Hill (Beth's Special)
In the Arms of the Angels- Sarah McLachlan
I Will Remember You- Sarah McLachlan
Concrete Angel- Martina McBride
Graduation Song -Vitamin C
Cat's in the Cradle- Henry Chapin
Mad World- Gary Jules
Wonderwall and Champagne Supernova- Oasis
You and Me- Lifehouse (don't ask.)
Hanging by a Moment- (also Lifehouse?)

I told you I'm not an appropriate-time cry-er. Who the fuck starts bawling when Brad Paisley comes on the radio?!

Any of these songs will make me cry. This one time, Adam sang me 100 Years; I didn't cry, I laughed because believe it or not this kid hit the high notes. But otherwise it makes me cry. Some of these I have special memories attached to. The Oasis songs are from Israel; I have special memories of beautiful people singing these songs every chance they got. They sang one of them on the last day as we were all getting on planes back to New York, then home. I didn't stop crying for about two hours after that.
Mad World just makes me think of sad children. I don't know why, but I hate it when children are sad, because then they cry and I want to cry with them. When a child is truly sad--not because his or her favorite toy broke, but truly, deeply sad--the world feels like it stops a little for me. In my head, until you know how babies are made, you are still a baby and therefore should never be forced to experience true, digging sadness. The kind that sticks to your ribs around your heart should only be reserved for those of us who understand that life really isn't sunshine, rainbows and (beer) cupcakes.

2. Very Talented Children
Swear to g-d, I started crying out of sheer astonishment this one time I was watching a youtube video (with Beth) of a kid who had such a beautiful voice. I think it was that Britain's Got Talent show with the little guy who belted the Michael Jackson song. I cried. Long and hard. (that's what sheeee said.)


Go on, don't cry, I dare you.

1. Re-reading old letters that I've never sent. I have like six of them that I've written to one person since I was 14. Almost every major life event, I've written him/her a letter. I hate having things unsaid, so maybe, just maybe I'll end up telling him/her what I've been holding in for so long.
By the way, I've literally read and re-read these letters (and subsequently cried on each of them) enough times that the letters are smudged from my fingerprints and other stuff. The more recent letters are usually covered in coffee.


Oh, here's what else I don't like, but less serious and more me.
1. bad coffee.
2. ugly pictures of me (not really crying as much as cringing and untagging from facebook)
3. packing. I hate packing.
4. knowing that you have to pee, but not wanting to get up just then, but still knowing you have to get up eventually. I hate that, I have no idea why.
5. cucumbers. I can't stand them, but I love pickles.

I was recently teased by a certain wanna-be cop for putting "Love, Miss Guided" at the end of a post, so believe it or not I actually considered not putting it on this time. Then I realized I really do not enjoy being around said wanna-be cop (probably for the reason that he's a verbally abusive little bitch), and I really don't give a flying rat's ass what he thinks. :)

So.

LOVE (Love love love, because fuck you.)
Miss Guided.

How to be Embarrassed Gracefully...Sort of...

Welcome to my life.

Ok, so this post is going to be like an extended Embarrassing Moment for me and for those who I know (without names or pointed fingers, besides the experiences that are my own), because I think a really really important skill that everyone should have is to know how to deal with being embarrassed. Recently, my underwear was hanging out of my pants. Super classy, I know, but hey it happens sometimes when the only things I have that are clean are a really really tiny thong and my fat-jeans (even when I'm having a skinny-day). So, the strings are visible and I haven't got a clue because I'm just concentrating on making sure that my pants are around my hips and not my ankles.

Cue "A Good Friend" (you know who you are, because I'm forcing you to read this), who tells me clandestinely that, hey your underwear is hanging out and you sort of look like a skanky idiot (obviously he/she didn't say the last part, because that would be mean and he/she is everything but mean). I believe I dealt with it rather gracefully because a) I didn't turn beet-red and have a panic-attack, b)I laughed it off, assured him/her not to be worried and that I was indeed thankful for his/her diligence in Making-Sure-I-Don't-Look-Like-A-Moron (caps because it happens on a regular basis and someone's gotta make sure that I can function semi-normally in society) and c)I dealt with it and moved on. I didn't turn it into an awkward silence, I didn't make a bit spectacle out of pulling up my pants and trying to save face (not that I really could), and I didn't start crying and run into the bathroom to sob my sorrows and awkwardness away.
Because I know that it could have been worse, and it wasn't.

It could totally have been worse.

So. Embarrassing story of the week over with, here's the reason behind my rambling.

Here's a universal truth; no matter how cool, beautiful or talented/wonderful/fantastic you are, you are going to embarrass yourself and those around you at one point or another. It's just going to happen, there's nothing you can do about the fact that it will, so you might as well learn how to deal with it when it does. Those of you who don't will be doomed to be forever ungraceful and ungrateful when an embarrassing moment comes along (yes, you should be grateful, I'll explain why in a bit).

So, in order to save the planet from a bunch of bumbling goobers who blush tomato-red whenever they trip on a branch or stutter just a bit in class, I've compiled a little list (surprise, Miss Guided the Queen of Lists and Lessons She's Learned from Living Life like one of those Goobers) of how to deal with those embarrassing moments.

Dude, I totally get you. It's ok, it'll be over soon.

1. The Immediate Recovery
So, you've tripped on your way out of the bar (not that I know anyone who's eaten shit while stumbling drunk somewhere out the door, oh no sir, right, T?), and now your ass is in the air and you're struggling to get up without making an even bigger fool of yourself than you already have. Fun fact, you can turn this embarrassing moment into a good one by doing one little thing.
Laugh.
Seriously, those people who say that laughter is the best medicine are the ones who succeed in life because they don't let the little things get them down. They might have that initial min-heart attack because no one likes to trip in public (or in private, but that's another story), and it's human nature to judge oneself and others, but laughing in the face of adversary is one of the best things to do.
If someone is out to embarrass you, for example by posting something nasty on your Facebook wall or shooting out snippy nit-pick comment after a speech you've prepped for hours for about how you didn't pronounce "epitome" right (ep-eh-toh-mie, not "eh-pi-toh-muh," you stupid ninny), the best revenge is amusement. If they think it didn't affect you, it burns a little because now they're embarrassed for themselves and their petty, low-grade behavior.
Also, if a trashy frat-guy grabs your butt while you're attempting to un-eat shit after tripping, laugh it off still, and attempt to get your drunken self out the door and as far away from Douchey McDoucher as possible.

I really don't know how you're going to save yourself after this. Really, I don't.

2. Backpedaling is a No-No; Save Face and Move Forward
I don't care how embarrassed you get, I don't care what stupid thing you said, did or implied, whatever you do, do NOT backpedal or try to say "that's not what I meant."
I don't care if that's what you meant, move forward, explain if someone has been offended, but whatever you do, don't stutter around an excuse for something you did if, at the time, there was nothing to be done about it.
Now, I'm not saying that if you offend someone and didn't realize what you were saying was going to be offensive, not to apologize; because if that's the case, you should definitely apologize, explaining that you're very very sorry that you offended them and that you'll be more careful in the future. If you say something stupid about yourself, for example like a Freudian slip or pronounce something wrong--can you tell this has scarred me? ok, so for those of you who went to high school with me, you'll know who I'm talking about when I say I had an English teacher in my Sophomore years honors class who's hips don't lie; the kid in my class who called me out had a tendency to kick the back of whoever's desk and to be a general know-it-all suck up while still being the most obnoxious person in the room. Added bonus was that you couldn't tell him to STFU because he had a "problem." Yeah, well I have problems too, and one of them was him!--whew, ok so if you pronounce something wrong, a good plan would be to just say, "Haha, whoops, I meant blah blah blah" and say nothing more about it.

Also, I've learned that thanking the dick who calls you out on something stupid overtly enthusiastically makes them feel like more of douche, and gets giggles from everyone else because chances are if he/she is embarrassing you, he/she has embarrassed others and they all want revenge too.

You know that really awful dream where you forget your pants to go to school? Yeah, about that...

Anyways.

3. Be Grateful and Graceful by Staying CALM.
Seriously, this is the last and most important step and if you forget to do it, your life will end up in shambles of embarrassment for both you and those who love you. So, no pressure, but seriously chill the fuck out.
If you stay calm, if you have a little giggle, get up, brush it off and keep going without forgetting to breathe, nothing bad will happen to you. Yes, you've been embarrassed (congrats, I do it like 3o times a day and I'm still alive), but you can pick up and move on as long as you force yourself to move on. I don't mean to forget it, because we can all learn from our mistakes, but you do need to make sure that you don't let it overwhelm you right then.
Later on, feel free to burst into tears (not suggested, because it'll stress you out more, but still if you need to, go right ahead), but right there in the moment, take a deep breath and just keep doing what you're doing. Others will forget if you just acknowledge it and move on, because there will be nothing much to make fun of; you recovered, you laughed at yourself showing how not-into-yourself you are, and you moved on. Sure, they may rib you, but don't let it bug you; wait about a week and something will happen to one of them and you can do the same (nicely, because you're a nice person, right?).
Also, be grateful it wasn't something worse. Just imagine a worst case scenario, realize that it probably didn't and won't happen to you, and be thankful.

I recently had a terribly embarrassing experience in front of a class. Since my Hips-Don't-Lie teacher from high school scarred me so much when it comes to public speaking, I have a habit of forgetting to breathe whenever I have to give a speech. Beyond embarrassing, let me tell you. However I know that it will, almost inevitably, happen every time I give a speech, so I've developed a strategy for coping.
First, I get through the beginning of whatever I need to do. I try to remember to breathe initially but it's usually useless to even attempt it because I'll just end up hyperventilating instead. After the initial shock wears off, and there is a natural break in the speech, I suck in a big, loud breath of air.

Ok, this is weird because it's embarrassing, I know it, and I do it anyways, but it's my system and I've learned to cope this way, so shut up and keep reading.

After my big breath of life, people usually start to snicker, and go into step two of how Miss-G-Makes-Life-Entertaining-For-Everyone-Else, by cracking some sort of joke I've cracked 100 million times about forgetting to breathe. Last time I forgot this, so I totally obliterated Step 1 of my little post-Guide, but stay with me and see why this was bad.
Since I didn't crack a joke, the snickers stayed and my friends started making faces at me. Soooo funny guys, really you're both hilarious. Stupid wanna-be cops think they're all comedians, when in reality they just like making fun of those of us who HAVE INGRAINED FEARS OF SPEAKING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. Jerks.

Anyways, so I forgot to joke, and I was more embarrassed. The rest of my group fumbled along in their parts of the presentation, and then it was back to me, I took a breath, mentally told myself to just get over it and move on. So I did.

I was a little breathy, a little gaspy but for the most part I got through my explanation, and I was even able to jump in and save one of my group members at the end of her slide. I was proud, because I was saving face.

The last step? I totally forgot about it, and was embarrassed again after class. My "friends," the two wanna-be cops from earlier, immediately started teasing me because of my whole not-breathing episode. I hit one of them with an umbrella multiple times (not hard, just enough to get the point across), rose to the bait, and felt more embarrassed, but by the time we got outside I was calmer, and much more level headed. Sort of. I whacked him again just for shits and giggles.

I calmed down though, explained that I was happy it was over, and moved on in the end. I only freaked out for real later when I was alone, but I'm taking care of it and (fingers crossed) I don't think my grade will suffer because of my stage fright.

At least this didn't happen. Gosh I'd be so upset if another girl wore the same dress as me to Walmart.

Moral of the Story? Do as I say, not as I do, and learn from MY mistakes.

Love,
Miss Guided

disney, to this.

I will be the first to admit to having a Disney obsession. I grew up in that decade, the 90s where every girl learned to have these absolutely fantastic dreams of being discovered as the crown princess of somewhere.

She'd go on a journey to some place, learning along the way how to behave and be like a princess, while her "true" self was being a little bit suffocated. She'd invariably meet her "Prince"--more often than not, he was a pauper who went on this whole self-depreciating rant when she eventually was recognized as a princess--and they'd fall in love.

They'd have great chemistry (we're not talking about the Little Mermaid here, which was way too dysfunctional for words; we're talking about something along the lines of Anastasia or Pocahontas), and have banter back and forth (sometimes). They'd get over their fighting, see that it was love, and happily ever after ensued after the bad guy was defeated.

At the end, she'd find out that her "true self" was the most important thing, and she'd still be the confident, quirky girl the movie started out with, just a little more mature/pretty/whatever.

What the hell.

This doesn't happen in real life, but honestly, would you want it to? Do you want your life to be turned upside-down because someone somewhere claims that you're royalty? I don't. Royalty means responsibility beyond the thousands of things I already have to worry about. Royalty means being under a microscope, under a constant watchful eye, at least according to Disney.

According to Disney, princesses are locked up inside towers, only let out when they decide that they're ready to find "true love." True love? Really, with the divorce rate today, true love seems to be a little bit far fetched.

At the same time, I'm a 90s girl, and that entails this weird quirk where I'm absolutely mesmerized by each and every single one of the stories, and the nights after I watch them, I'm left lying in bed (for longer than usual, it takes me forever to fall asleep) thinking about the impossibility of it all. I get a little frustrated sometimes, and I'm tossing and turning and thinking Well, what the hell? It could happen, right?

No, it actually couldn't.

Which is the point of this stupid rant. No matter how much you love the Disney stories, they will never happen in real life because you wished "once upon a December." Never, so there's no point in wishing for them.

Stop wishing, and start doing.

Do things you love, do things you want to do, do things you've always-forever wanted to do but never in a thousand of your most imaginative daydreams could you have thought you could do. Do them, because someone somewhere (I'll bet anything) told you you probably couldn't. Do them, because someone somewhere is thinking the same exact thing as you. Funny thing, you'll probably fall in love, while doing what you love. When you're happy, other people see that, making you infinitely more attractive; when you're happy, people want to be around you. Be happy, fall in love.

I don't believe in true love. I don't believe some Prince Charming will one day sweep me off my feet.

I believe in loving what I do, and loving who I'm with, when I'm with them. I live in the moment, for the moment, and its gotten me into trouble more times than I can count, but I'm happier than I've ever been today, because it's today and not yesterday.

It's today, and not yesterday, and not tomorrow; I don't worry when I'm happy, because I'm not thinking about what if and maybe and what did that mean?!

I love that feeling; I'm addicted to it, to the adrenaline rush behind doing something that I want to do. I'm addicted to now, and to the people in my now.

Whats funny is that whenever I do what I want, when I want to do it regardless of the possible repercussions on the "beaten path" that I'm veering from at the time, is that I meet the most fantastic people.



I added a major because I have a fascination with "the bad guy." I want to be the one bagging them, the one stopping them before they do more things to hurt more people, whoever they are. I want to be the one who falls in love with what I do, who I'm with, and what I've become. I want to be alright with myself morally, and for me, that means going to the ends of the earth to make sure that the people and places that I love are safe. Isn't that weird? Whatever it takes, too, I'll do it.

Isn't it weird that I go from Disney, to this?

Anyways, I think the tie-in is that I want nothing more than to do what I love, come home to whoever I end up loving, or do love now, and to be happy with who and what I've become.

It's 2 AM, give me a break.

Love,
MissG.

gonna get through it.

Promise.

Love,
Miss Guided

Why I Love Johnny Depp

I will be the first to readily admit I know next to nothing about the theater arts.
Next to nothing, as in I know which movies I love openly, I know which ones I hate openly, and I know which ones I am ashamed about liking.

However, just because I know next to nothing about something (oh, hey like basically everything outside of why serial murderers do what they do? Don't ask.), does not mean that I don't have an opinion about it. Just the opposite actually.

I think all people do this, by the way. Have opinions about things they know nothing about, I mean. It's frustrating, yes, but boundless learning opportunities, don't you think?

Anyways, I know what I love. I love Johnny Depp.

Not Elijah Wood, Johnny Depp. This is fucking creepy.

Why, you ask? (Probably not really, because I'm basically talking to myself here)
Well, I'll tell "you." (I should be institutionalized; I'm talking to the "voices.")

Speaking of institutionalizing...

I love him because I've never seen him play the same person twice; even in his sequels, he adds dimension and personality to his characters so much so that they morph into almost entirely new people every time they come onto the screens. Not only is he a character actor, he is a phenomenal character actor who takes it upon himself to create a memorable personality that the audience doesn't fall in love or hate with.

Its important that the audience doesn't love or hate his characters completely, because no one in real life can be hated or loved completely and by everyone.

Life is not black and white, life is not good and bad; life and the people who are playing in it are both dynamic, changing entities that are constantly growing or evolving to respond as best as possible to the situation at hand. (Cue applause)

Yes, some of his characters end up being deranged serial killers with fairly violent methods, but in those movies he was the "pitied" character regardless. His back story and his reasonings are so tragic that the audience CAN'T hate him for what he's doing; they root for him a little, actually. (Which, by the way, is usually just good casting on the part of his director(s)--Tim Burton, anyone?--and screen writers, but still, they recognize a catch when they see it.) And I think this is unique to him because, despite the wide array of character actors out there who are all quite good (sans certain teenaged "vampires" [fairies]), is because of his uncanny ability to really make the character real. None of us are purely good or bad, and he brings that realism to the big screen by making sure that none of his characters are either. He brings realism, to the most surreal, fantastic stories; if that's not talent, I don't know what is.


I think the point of this little ode to Johnny is that he embodies everything I believe about life when he acts out as "his" characters. I related to Sweeny Todd, I related to Jack Sparrow, and I related (a little) to the Mad Hatter (shut up) because I am human, therefore deeply flawed, and very very confused about every little decision I have to make in life.

I recently have had to make a lot of very impulsive decisions, a lot of very difficult ones to make, and his characters kind of jumped out at me one night when I Stumbled on one of his fansites. It's interesting because he never plays the "good guy/bad guy" role; he's always in the middle, always realistic (despite the wacko plot lines), and he gives us a little look at how the rest of us are fucking along in life.

Because honestly, who really knows what we're doing? (rhetorial question)

I don't, and my hindsight isn't even 20/20 because my vision is actually -9.50/20. (ahahaha. Oh, Miss G, you're so hilarious and there's no way you've used that line before (HA). Oh, how clever!)

We're all make decisions at the drop of a hat (a mad one?), we're all trying to get along as best we can, and despite the fact that we usually fuck something or other up along the way, we're usually all in it with the best intentions.

Right? Right.

In other news, I fell down the stairs last week, and the bruise on my arm still has not faded. Fun part of that is that the bruise is weirdly shaped like a hand, so I've been asked like three times whether or not I'm being abused by someone.

Uh, no...but hey thanks for caring, I guess. Then I have to explain what happened for real, and I get dirty looks.

Also, I have super-fantastic good news that's basically going to SAVE MY BUTT for next year and will ensure that I can stay at IU for the next 3 years. Get pumped.
I can't tell anyone yet though, not until 5pm tonight. So. 5pm tonight, facebook will hold all the answers to my excitement.

Love,
Miss Guided

P.S. Bad news of the day: I have officially developed allergies to everything in the world.
Not really.
But I developed lactose intolerance this year, and then when spring hit apparently my body decided that I'm allergic to all that is pretty and blooming. So, I've been a sneezing, runny-nosed, coughing mess and it's totally not cute at all. I feel like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer when I blow my nose.
And we all know how much I love sneezing.
Super attractive, right?!

Yep. That basically sums it up.

Four Delicious Things I Want to Make

1. Guinness Cupcakes: Do I need to explain this? These cupcakes look a little difficult to make, but at the same time...very simple idea. Simply mix the stout with a fairly traditional chocolate cupcake recipe, poke a hole in the top with a little holey-pokey thingy, fill to the brim, and bake. Also, the icing is made with Bailey's. My mother loves Bailey's. Loves. So, this may or may not be part of her Mother's Day present. Erring on the side of probably with a gigantic dose of definitely.

Photo credit; CHOW

2. The BIG GIGANTIC HUMONGOUS Salad of Delicious; I can't call it anything else, because honestly that's really all that it is. I will be honest, I am not a perfect girl, and I do not usually seek out salads to make and eat because they usually include things like copious amounts of NOT-delicious. I like steak. I like hamburgers. I am going to try to be a vegetarian this summer because I AM GOING TO CAMP. (Now, I love the fact that I'm going to camp [to be a counselor, you ninny; I'm young, I'm not a weirdo]. However, I'm going to err on the side of caution though and I'm going to avoid the camp meat. Camp and meat products have never boded well for me before.) Anyways, this salad combines all these wonderful flavors of tomatoes, avocado, feta, brown mushrooms (I'd sautee mine when I make this, just for extra flavor), shrimp (YUM), and get this...Miso. Miso is the stuff they make miso soup out of, silly (my mom calls it sock-soup, because it smells a little like socks; it's wonderful, just sock-ey). I'm going to attempt to pull this all together and figure out how to get that. Found this on the Guilty Kitchen!

Guilty Kitchen. Doesn't this look fantastic? I just want to eat the picture, that's all. I'll settle for anything.

3. A Chicken, Tomatoes and Garlic Easy Easy Lemon Peasy Dinner Dish: When I was home last, I complained about chicken catchetorri. Probably because I'm an ungrateful brat. Never again. This time, I will be the chicken-maker. And I will do it better. This recipe is from the Pioneer Woman (my favorite food/everything/lifestyle blog), and "oh-my-dear-Lord where does she come up with these things" recipe monger. It's a fairly lengthy amount of time to take for an "easy" dinner dish (especially in my family where we sometimes forget that no one's started dinner until around 7 or 8 when we're all wandering around the kitchen, pointing fingers and whining about being hungry), but it makes up for that by just being...easy! It's great. Salt and pepper some chicken pieces, cook 'em up in a pan with some butter and olive oil, then take them out, add some sherry, tomato chunks and tomato paste, stir and warm, add garlic, and basil. Once that's done, you just toss the chicken back in, put it in the over for a bit, make the pasta while you're at it, and then throw it all together and serve! Sounds like a lot, but there's basically no prep (which is a prerequisite in my life).

This is from the Pioneer Woman Blog. She's my absolute favorite blogger/food photographer. Honestly, doesn't that just look like a cozy, comfort food waiting to be made and passed down again and again? It does.

4. Banana Bread from the blog, Food Loves Writing. Shanalee (love that name, by the way) is a phenomenal, talented writer with a knack for making people think about what they're doing and making on a daily basis. She's had a lot of posts that really really resonate with me, and she's also from Chicago! It's so nice to read about things happening in the city I've come to love as my own, despite the fact that I'm a transplant. Anyways, I'll be the first person to say, shout and proclaim that I mother-effing hate bananas. Hate them. They're mushy an gross and they remind me of baby food. I didn't even eat real baby food when I was a baby (I tossed it on the dog), so why would I eat it now? No thanks. However, I do love banana bread. I like the nutty flavor, the slight hint of banana smell without the banana texture. Fantastic. My brother makes the best banana bread in the world, but I'm willing to bet I can one-up him with this recipe. Maybe.

This recipe actually really stuck out to me because Shanalee says she hates 'naners too. But she made this. And she explained that after being sick (because you're supposed to eat bananas in the third stage or so of coming off being sick), bananas are a staple, and are heaven-sent after crackers, dry toast and chicken noodle soup.

Super easy (banana bread always is), and delicious plain or with a little apple butter spread on top.

Food Loves Writing. Isn't this simply...fantastic? I'm so excited to start making this stuff. Totally going to bury my brother's banana bread. And hey, if I don't, then we still eat really good banana bread. So...win-win.

Anyway's that's really the bulk of the post.

Oh, fun fact. I wrote a terrorist speech today for one of my classes (if anyone reading this is an IU student, you should take the COLL-103 topics course taught by Professor Doctor Fritz Breithaupt; literally one of the most entertaining, interesting classes I've ever ever taken in my entire life. He wears knickerboxers sometimes.), and we had to pick a topic to really rail on in a style similar to the Unabomber Manifesto. Don't read that, by the way. The guy is afraid of technology. He's crazy, but his writing is brilliantly done. Insane, but a little bit brilliant. He also murdered people. So...grain of salt. In this case...pounds of salt...from the Dead Sea. Anyways, I wrote mine about censorship, and surprisingly enough got way into it and basically trashed the people who ban books. It was entertaining.

The point of that little babble is that you should never ever never underestimate the power of a pen and paper. Yes, I do all my writing in pen before I type it out, just because it feels more connected that way, and I catch more of my stupid grammatical errors. Not all of them, but most. Writing that drabble today really helped me relax and decompress after a very stressful day (floor drama, life drama, I lost my ID like 4 times within two week), and I'm going to go to bed (very late) very calmly.

And that's why you should procrastinate on papers until the very last second. Because it de-stresses you.

Stop laughing. Go to bed.

GOODNIGHT!

Love, Miss Guided.

Food Blogs and Why I've been a Lazy Jerk

I am soooo sorry that I haven't updated in so long! Not that the three of you reading this really care (Hi, Mom! She's finally reading this, btw. Sort of.).

Anyways, the reason behind my departure? Pure insanity; I've been busy busy busy for the past three weeks or so, and it's only going to get busier with finals coming up. I study basically every free hour I get, and I've been working on projects, papers and presentations like it's my job. Which it basically is. Anyways, I've also been busy with--now don't get angry--Tumblr.

I know, it's like I'm a traitor almost, but I digress. Tumblr is fantastic, easy, and I am going to try and link this and that up so that they post for each other. We'll see if this results in annoying double-posting, or just plain awesomeness. I'm praying for the latter.

Anyways, I've been posting different things there than I would here, so I think the Tumblr will be sort of like a personal/public journal, while this I think will be more like a blog. Like how it's supposed to be...yeah.

Question of the Day:

Why don't people date anymore?

Honestly, why not? Why can't I have a nice guy I meet ask for my number (while SOBER, and not at a party), then follow through. Follow through, as in we go out to dinner and a movie, have good conversation, and then go to our RESPECTIVE homes and then do it again and again until we feel that it either is or is not going anywhere productive. Share a few physical moments (totally fine, but nothing too much), and get to know each other in every way. Why is this so taboo now? Why do my friends look at me like I'm insane when I say I'm not going to put out on a first date, or even the second date? What is so difficult about not hooking up, about not sleeping with someone randomly and just because "oh hey, you're drunk and mildly attractive/intelligent/whatever your dealmaker is so why not?" (that's rape, that's why not)
Seriously though, why the hell can't people "see each other" with a moderate to small level of commitment and no stress?

Seriously, I've had it up to here (I'm indicating my eyebrows, by the way) with people who either just want to jump head first into a relationship after ONE date, and the people who are just in it for the sex. Honestly, you're not getting it from me, so there's really no point in trying. I'm happily waiting until whenever I feel ready, comfortable and, most importantly, I'm waiting until I love and TRUST the person I'm with. That doesn't mean I'm waiting until marriage or engagement or whatever, it means I'm waiting until it makes sense.

I don't get it. I just don't understand. Help me out!

In other news, I failed a test today. That was super fun. I have to memorize a five minute Hebrew presentation (I can't memorize presentations in English. WHAT are they thinking?!)

However, I went for a run yesterday with Beth (and am consequently sore beyond belief today; it feels like my thighs are desperately trying crush my bones they're so tense), and I've been eating healthier and less. My mother has a few sayings about food that I've taken to heart.

"If you're not hungry enough for an apple, you're not hungry enough."

and

"The best thing to eat, is less."

Now, I know this sounds like pro-anorexia propaganda (I'll give you my story on that subject in the next post, possibly), but it really is true if you take it in moderation. Wait 5 minutes after you've begun eating half you meal before you start the second half. It'll give you time to decide if you're full or not. Also, put your fork/food/spork/spoon down in between bites; I know we're all rushed (especially with the last few weeks of the semester looming) but it's important to take your time.

I'm not actually feeling like talking about this right now.

Maybe later.

Anyways, to counter that, here are my discoveries from the Food Blogs I frequent.

Food Loves Writing

This site has a lot of super healthy options, and some really amazing writing. I love to write (DUH, Miss G, way to be moronically obvious), and I really appreciate good writing. I also appreciate good recipes for good food that are realistic for the average (poor/strapped for time) person.
Loved this recipe for Hasselback Potatoes.

The Pioneer Woman

This woman is fantastic. This woman is phenomenal. This woman is self-made, determined, self-actualized and fantastically wonderfully grounded and intelligent. This woman also has a (hot) rancher for a husband, so I basically want to have her life. Ree Drummond talks about her life on a cattle ranch, but she's no home-raised country girl; she was a city dweller in another life, wearing black heels to work and...well why don't you just go to her "About Me" section. That'll explain my fascination with her.

My favorite recipe? The Cajun Chicken Pasta; my younger brother is a spice fanatic (he literally puts tobasco on EVERYTHING, little booger), and I'm pretty sure if I made this at home one of two things would happen.
Either my brother would go into happy, joyful conniptions of someone finally understanding his need for fatal amounts of spice, or my father would just have a blood-pressure/spice inducedheart attack after walking into the kitchen. Either of those things may or may not occur because they'd both be eternally surprised that yours truly was happy in the kitchen making something that didn't include my favorite ingredients of chocolate and/or cake mix from a box.
So.

Courtesy of Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman, and the maker of a fantastic wonderful food blog that makes me want to marry a rancher while simultaneously coming up with fantastic wonderful recipes and popping out adorable children. I almost wrote "chicken" instead of children, but I feel like she might have appreciated that little slip.

Oh.
And they both have PRETTY pictures.

Good night!

Love,
Miss Guided

Feeling philosophical because its o'dark thirty in the morning.

identity in progress

Originally uploaded by Фототека им. Зепа

That’s exactly what this is. I’m feel poignant and fantastic and it’s nearly one in the morning, so obviously the best option for me right now is to write. I don’t exactly know what I’m going to write about exactly, but I think that’s the best thing right now. I haven’t exactly known anything for a very long time now. When I first started not knowing exactly anything I thought it was frustrating. Now I think it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m thinking about exactly nothing in particular and I’m able to wander and wander and wander around in my head for something even a little significant.

I obviously haven’t yielded (“i” before “e” except after “c”) anything significant yet, but I think I will eventually. I think everyone has to yield something significant eventually, whether it be a recipe, a child, a thought, a book, a new way to raise teacup pigs or something else a little extraordinary. I think one day I’ll yield something significant, but I need to work on making me significant enough to get to that point. Does any of that make sense? Probably not.

I don’t really care that it doesn’t make any sense because this is me wandering and wandering and wandering around in my head. I’m trying to come to some sort of a conclusion because I absolutely can’t stand dead ends or cold trails, but it’s been 18 years in the making and I still haven’t come to any sort of a conclusion about anything. Maybe that’s a good thing though, because maybe an 18 year old shouldn’t be coming to any conclusions—that should be reserved for the Geriatric crowd—and I’m supposed to be wandering and wandering and wandering, but that still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

I don’t know, I just don’t know anything any more. My name is Jaclyn, but people who’ve known me since forever call me Jaci (Jack-ie, not Jace-ey, not Jace, Jack-ie; like Jackie-O, but less glamorous), so I’m not even exactly sure of what I’m called. My grandfather even called me Mandy once or twice because my middle name is Amanda, but that doesn’t make much sense because I’ve never been called that by anyone else. So, I don’t know what I’m called.

I’m 18 and I’m in college, but really really really, should I be? I’m only 18 after all. A whole year younger than most of the people starting out this year, but why should that matter? I’m smarter/tougher/more fantastic than them, right? Wrong, probably. Maybe. Who knows? Not me, obviously. I don’t exactly know anything.

Now I’m just making up excuses because of course I should be in college. I shouldn’t be over there in Africa volunteering in a village to help small kids learn math or scrape a living. I shouldn’t even be thinking about enlisting in the Peace Corps because that would just be stupid and a waste of time, right? Wrong, probably. Maybe. I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up (right, when’s that exactly?), but at the same time I know exactly what I want to do right herenowforeverandever. It’s the only thing I exactly know, and I’ve been holding onto it for dear dear dear life since I was maybe ten years old, so please be gentle with it and don’t break it. Goals are sometimes the only things that are really ours and really original, because everything else has been done before. Not doing things, but wanting them is totally original to the individual, because no one else has wanted exactly what I want, when I want it.

I want to help people and I want people to love me and need me because I’m me and I’m doing something necessary for them. I want someone to love me so much they can’t keep it a secret, and I want to love someone so much that I literally would not be able to function without knowing they were in my life somehow. I’ve never felt that, and obviously that’s not going to happen any time soon, right? Maybe not, maybe yes, I don’t know because I don’t know anything exactly for sure except for exactly what I want.

One day, I’m going to know exactly everything about me. More about me than my mother thinks she knows, and more about me than my father says he knows, but probably not more about me than is possible to know because I can’t know what I’m going to want tomorrow. Wants and needs are the only things that drive people, and people drive the world. What if people wanted only good things for the person sitting to their left? Would the world spin the other way and would people start pulling their pockets for someone else?

Probably, maybe. I don’t know because I don’t know anything exactly for sure.

Say Nice Things

You know what would be super great? I mean, something seriously fantastic that I would appreciate truly and sincerely?

I'd like people to say nice things to each other. Say nice things that you mean and that you want them to know, but are too afraid to actually say. I read this article in some Readers Digest somewhere about love letters. Now, I think love letters are wonderful, timeless things, but I'm talking about anything nice to say. Not necessarily in-love sorts of things to say, but a text from an old friend saying, "I'm thinking of you" or "I miss you" or "You are the most interesting person on my News Feed," or really anything kind and sweet and unprecedented is fantastic. Unexpected kindness has the same effect on most people--or just me if you're all ogres out there--as receiving an unexpected college-fund donation. You didn't ask for it, didn't even know it was a possibility but there it is, and it's left you with this warm, glowy tingle in your stomach that stays there for a few days (or, if you get the college fund donation probably a few years/forever).

I got bored the other day in the car and I wrote down every single memorably nice thing that anyone has ever sent/said to me or someone I know, and everything that I'd want to say or have already said to someone. Here are a few examples.

I am so excited to see you, my pants are practically falling off.
You're hilarious.
~picture of a heart with the words "I Love You" on it~ A big hug for you!
And when I saw you again, you were actually prettier than I remembered. I didn't think that was possible.
I really like you. As everything.
I love you for all of the above.
I love you too.
You were the one for me when it was then. I wish I had known it.
You're stronger than you think, because you've lived through everything in your life. No one else has done that.
You really do have a fabulous ass, you know that?
You're too beautiful for it to be safe. I'm the James Bond type, so I'm going to have to "take you out."
I don't know if this is appropriate since we've just met, but you're going to marry me.
I miss you. -I'm standing right next to you! -I know, I'm just pre-guilting you so you don't leave.


Some of those are cheesy, yeah, but didn't you smile when you read that stuff? You want someone to say that to you, because you want to be wanted, to be loved and cherished and beautiful in someone's eyes. You want to say those things because you know it'll make someone else feel fantastic and on air for the rest of the day.

So say it! Say what you want because you only really have one chance to say everything. There's only one chance for every single decision that we make, and if you decide to err on the side of caution then you haven't made the right decision! What if she said she liked you too?!

Well, there's always the possibility that she's going to say she doesn't feel that way, but then you know. You know that you tried as hard as you could to tell her that you felt that way. And you lost a little and your heart is a little bit broken, but she is always going to remember you as the person who tried. The guy who gave it his best shot because he cared, and he wanted you to know. He took that risk because he thought it would make you both happy, and maybe it would have, or maybe you both would have ended up in pieces and confused about where to go after, but you would know.

I have regrets too. The above scenario happened to me, and I didn't take the risk, and it's something I have to live with every day. I think I made the right decision for me then and now, but I'm always going to wonder if I maybe made the right one.
Everyone has been on both sides of that conversation, and everyone has walked away. You've all been able to pick up and move on and breathe and breathe and breathe again. You might have felt like the whole world was going to come out of the sky, but you picked up and you cried and wished for things to be different and you made yourself feel better. You did all that and you moved on.

I have loved and cherished every single one of those people who said those fantastic things in the quotes up there. I have held them in the closest confines of my heart for as long as I possibly could and I can say that--for all except one--I have made sure that they all know clearly and concisely how I feel. Obviously some of those are friend-love, and some are more-than-friends-love. Some are tragic-love-that-turned-out-awfully, and some are well-we-gave-it-our-best-shot-love, and then there's still one that we haven't really put aside. There are so many types of love, and it's a waste not to embrace every single kind.

Anyways, that's all I wanted to write.
Love with your whole heart as wide open as you can. Get hurt, cry a little and make sure your heart bleeds just a bit.
Go out and break someone's heart, but then come back and try to fix it.
Make mistakes, go back and try to redo, redo, redo.
Learn if you can't, feel blessed if you can.
Talk in your sleep, and hope someone hears their name and sees you smile.
Tell Grandma you're thinking of her. Tell Mom you're thinking of her. Tell Dad. Tell your brother, your sister, your dogs.
Send a text because you want to say hello.

Never let anything fester in the middle, in your head, you'll only end up tossing it out with the rest of the trash you pick up during the day.

Love a lot, love hard, love everyone you can stand to talk to.

And because of this rant, I say that maybe unrequited love is still love. It's miserable love, but it's love.

So.

Love,
Miss Guided

Video Production Club and WTF, Don't Text if you Don't Care, Asshole.

This will be a complaining post. I'm warning you now, it may be hilarious, it may be the funniest fucking thing you've ever read in your entire life, but it will be stuffed thanksgiving-style full of self-pity and angry ranting. It probably won't even be funny, but it will complain a lot.
So.

That's my disclaimer. May or may not tag that onto every post from now until forever slash whenever I decide that I want to be an astronaut and just stop blogging.
Which probably won't happen, the astronaut thing I mean. I may stop blogging, but I probably won't ever be an astronaut. I don't like heights and the whole idea of an infinite Space freaks the fuck out of me.
Can "fuck" be freaked out of you? That sounds weird. Philosophical question of the day.

Note to Self:

Dear Miss Guided,

No one actually reads this besides the people you know in real life who you bully into reading this. You should probably just drop off the face of the planet because you're so not-special. You could always join a circus and try to be successful that way. And/or act like a general idiot, so I guess maybe psychologists could try to figure out the inner workings of your brain.
Probably not though, because you're not special enough to even be considered brain-study material.
HA.

Love,
World.

Anyways, back to your regularly scheduled bitch-fest.

I hate people who can't keep up a conversation.
Really and truly, these people are the scum in between Larry the Jailbird's toes after he lost his shower privileges for a month. Actually...they're that scum's scum. Yeah. They're that scummy.

Would you like to know why I hate these dick-munchers? Of course you do, you've read this far, haven't you!?

HAVEN'T YOU?

Please.

Ok, I hate them because they make me feel like I've done something wrong. If you text me, call me or start a conversation, I feel special because someone is seeking me out to communicate. For a second, I was on someone's mind and they've decided to roll with it and give me a shout.
Which is awesome.

Then it gets ugly.

Because I'll respond all happy-eager-stupid like, and then get a half-assed response in return. If you initiate a conversation, and I respond in kind, you had better have a good goddamn fucking reason for basically BAILING OUT mid-sentence and leaving me feeling like a pathetic loser.

Honestly, its just simple manners; you ask someone how they've been if--and really only IF--you are genuinely interested in how they've really been. If you don't care, don't send the fucking text. Most phones have the "do you really want to send this text?" option for those nights where you probably shouldn't be mass-texting your entire phone book because you're awake, it's 5 in the morning, and you were woken up by Fuzzy-the-Bear (aka, Mistake from Last Night) snoring like it's going out of style.

USE THAT OPTION ALL THE TIME.

Seriously, if you don't care, don't text. Simple as that.

Next step is the response; if it's a little delayed and it's maybe--for a completely and absolutely HYPOTHETICAL and NOT TRUE AT ALL NO SIR example--sometime around midnight on a Wednesday/Thursday night (crazy, what a coincidence that tonight is Wednesday/Thursday), maybe assume that the person you're texting is possibly in the SHOWER because she has a TEN O'CLOCK CLASS tomorrow while you're on spring break. Really. Easy assumption to make. Totally hypothetical though, obviously.

Don't get offended. If the response is eventually enthusiastic, you're good to go pick up the conversation like a functional human being. Unless you're a douche-bucket, and you decide that all of a sudden there are better things to do, and you decide to give one word responses.

Totally understandable, by the way, that there are better things to do than--oh, I don't know--talk to someone you haven't spoken to for real in about...4 months? And are trying to work a functional friendship out with? Maybe? Probably not to you, not to me either obviously.
Really, if you didn't want to work out this thing, you really shouldn't have said you did. Honesty is always the best policy, and you should probably be less of a tool; if you don't want to be friends with someone, either say so or just get out of his/her life. It's not fair to the person who's head you're fucking with.

Really.

But, if there's something better to do and you can't talk right then and that's really it, JUST SAY SO, YOU FUCKTARD.

Anyways, if this totally hypothetical situation has ever fallen- on your head, tell me about it. Really, tell me because I don't want to know that I'm the only idiot out there with a life like this.

Anyways, nothing really super special going on in life, but I'm doing an update anyways.

Did I really just do that?!

-Accidentally brushed this guy's hand, and he totally flipped out and was like, "why did you do that?!"
Cue funny looks from me and the rest of the group we were working in.
"Uhh...it was an accident."
"Oh."
Awkward. I have never felt more strange in my life and my hand-talking has come to an abrupt halt.
-Got a blister the size of a quarter on my heel. It's gross and you probably don't give a flying-squirrels balls about it, but it's a pretty impressive size.
- Got a care package. Yummmmm real coffee from Papa Nicholas!!!! I'm contemplating burning the Satan's Piss/Archer Farms stuff, just because it sort of smells like how it should taste (but doesn't since it tastes like...you guessed it. satan's piss.), just so it'll smell kinda nice.
-My mother also sent me two sleep masks. I asked for one, and I really don't know why she thinks I need two. It's not like I ever get any, so I really don't have people spending the night. And besides, even if I did, the last thing I would do would pull out the purple Panda-face sleep mask and the "Leave Me Alone" jewel encrusted sleep masks and be all, "LYKE, Which one do you want?!"
Really, mom? Really?!
She's still not reading this, by the way. I don't think she'd enjoy my language. I'm a little salty.
-Going to see my friends in like...15 hours? Something like that, I don't know. All I know is that I'm going out tomorrow night and I'm probably going to be making mistakes that I'll be proud to tell my kids about (after they turn a certain age where I'm like, "fuck it, they're screwed up enough already, this won't hurt.").
-I talked about video production club with someone today. Now, I don't know about any of you people, but I fucking loved VP club. It was sweet, you got to fuck around with cameras and "high tech" (not really) electronics and learn how to make the morning announcements. My friends and I would do "birthday shout outs," pretty much every time our team had the day, and we got called down to the office every single time to be yelled at by the vice principal. Nothing ever happened, but he was always threatening expulsion or suspension if we "ever did something like that again" since apparently it singled out kids who didn't get shout outs on their birthdays.
Boo-fucking-hoo, baby. Make friends in VP club, and you'll get the shout-out.
Anyways, we kept doing it regardless. Now they don't have VP club, and the vice principal runs around with a night-stick, beating junior high kids because they're wearing prostitution-ring-esque clothing and/or pants-on-da-floor.
Honestly, kids these days!
-SPRING BREAKKKKK
-----Not actually doing anything spectacular, I'm just going home. But that's why I'm so EXCITED.
Also, I get to see Zach on Sunday! How fucking awesome is that? Especially since he has a brohawk.

Anywhatsits, I'm going to bed now. I have nothing better to do, and Zach is well on his way to winning the Tour de France, so I gotta get this up before he's won the race.

Goodnight (nonexistent) Readers!!

Love (maybe, possibly misery or at least pseudo-misery depending on if this HYPOTHETICAL person get's off his HYPOTHETICAL ass and attempts friendship again),
Miss Guided