The Rest Of Your Life (18 of 90)

And here's the last post for today. I'm glad I finally caught up.

Peaked Too Early?:

There are some people in life who seem like they've always known exactly what they want to do with "the rest of their lives". I unfortunately (or is it fortunately, I'm really not sure) have never been one of them.

There are those kids who 10 years ago said they wanted to be a doctor. And guess what, 10 years later they are well on their way to being a doctor. I am that kid who 10 years ago wanted to be a WNBA star. Guess what, 10 years later, I haven't played basketball seriously in 10 years. Five years ago I had a vague idea of being a geneticist. Two years ago I decided that was really fuckin hard and I wanted nothing to do with Biology that didn't involve a passing fancy. Two years ago I decided I'd rather write.

Approximately two months ago I found out that this path will also be really fuckin hard.

I have no intentions of quitting this time.

I wonder if this is how those kids have felt their entire life. Secure in the knowledge that they're working towards something they want to do. On the base scale at least. (at least the kid who wants to be a doctor knows what steps exactly must be taken, and in what order, and who can best help them. Writers... yeah not so much. It's more of a "here's a decent guideline, but if you think of something better feel free to say fuck it and do whatever you damn well please. But it better fuckin work, or it'll suck. Here's a pen, don't fuck it up kid.")

But at the same time I wonder if those kids are missing out. What if they only think that's what they want to do? What if their single mindedness has steered them away from their true calling as a health teacher in Brazil? What if because they always knew what they were doing, they never had the time to be a fuck up like the rest of us? Being a fuck up isn't so bad, you get the chance to test a little bit of everything before settling down with something that you really like. Or you know, the next test in the line.

I don't know if not knowing what I want to do is a good thing or not. I don't know if knowing what you want to do is a good thing or not. I do know that knowing gives you direction. I also know that not knowing gives you options in a weird sort of way. I really know that I've got less than a year to figure out what to do.

Maybe I'll just take a year off and do odd jobs and crazy shit. Maybe I'll be a hobo. Maybe I'll write a commercially successful piece of shit and just laugh my way to the bank for the rest of my life? I have no idea. I think this means I'm back at square one. Oh well.

Quote of the Day:

"I believe in an open mind, but not so open that your brains fall out."

- Arthur Hays Sulzberger

These Things Are Starting To Have A Theme... (17 of 90)

Here's make up post number 2. Only today's post left!

Thoughts:

More often than not I get the distinct feeling that my friends all hate each other. I'm probably not wrong in this assumption, seeing as many of them have voiced things of this nature. But there's something drawing all these people together, so I'm of the opinion that if we'd all just calm the fuck down and stop being such dicks (myself included) they'd probably get along better.

I've come to the conclusion that all too often we as people are too quick to judge, and are more inclined to see the negative in people rather than the things that make individuals awesome. Many times, we do the same to ourselves as well. I'm not sure where in life people leaned to view everything so negatively ( I do, however, have a sneaking suspicion that it was during grade school). I just find myself wishing that people would take the time to actually get to know someone before deciding if they do or don't like them. And I don't just mean on a casual acquaintance level. Given half a chance most people are actually pretty fucking awesome.

Sure, someone may have a negative trait at first glance, but if you actually get to know them you might come to realize that there's more than meets the eye (transformers plug goes here). I won't say that I try not to judge people because that's a flat out lie. I'm a judgemental bastard and I will call you on your shit, have a big ego? I'll know and appropriately make fun of you for it. It's what I do. But what I really try not to do is write you off as a human being because of said ego. I'll love your arrogant ass anyway.

People are always worth that chance, no matter what 'undesirable' trait they may have, no one should be written off as one way or another automatically. If you don't actually know someone how can you make clear judgements about their character? You can't really, and those bullshit judgements are probably why so many people go through life unhappy. Be it because they are judging themselves or others, or being judged by others, it's a shitty cycle that I try to refrain from. I don't know if I succeed in this endeavor, but I'll continue trying because that's what I hope people'll do for me. At least know me before you hate me, that's all I ask.

Quote of the Day:

"I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it."

- Jack Handly

Whoops... (16 of 90)

Lots of catching up to do.

Here goes nothing:

It's 2pm on Sunday afternoon. I still havn't really gotten out of bed. I feel like I've been running in circles all week and it's finally catching up with me. It's weird you know, having things to do. I spent the first 18.5 years of my life not really doing anything. And now, it's different.I'm juggling school responsibilities, a meager social life, club stuff, and family duties. It's really not much in the long run but it's interesting.

It's weird to look back and see how much I've changed over the past year alone. A different core group of friends (again), priority shifts, and emotional differences. I think I'm happier. It seems weird, but I really think I am.

I say that's weird because I've befriended the most atypical group of misfits ever, and I love them all to death. No matter how much infighting, dickery, and retardedness gets inbetween them. It's also weird because I have so much more responsibility and I'm a lazy bastard, you'd think I'd hate it.

I'm writing more (obviously) and I hope it'll help me in the long run. I have to start thinking about my future. I still don't have the slightest clue as to where it will lead me, but I'm hoping that at least a few of these people have a place in it. They've somehow managed to negate the anxiety and need to run that's been plaguing me every year around this time. They'll probably never know how much I appreciate that 'cause I really hate that feeling.

Quote of the Day:

"Age is no guarantee of maturity."

-Lawana Blackwell

The Saga of the Prancing Jedi Ponies (15 of 90)

Hello again. Time for today's post I suppose. Or yesterdays... whatever. I haven't slept yet so the date change doesn't count lol.

Story Time:

I'm going to try to tell a story today Blogger, so tell me if it sucks horribly or not. Be aware that this counts as a first draft, I know it's not God's gift to writing or anything like that. This is the story of the Prancing Jedi Ponies. Or more accurately, part of the story of the Prancing Jedi Ponies, part 1 was sort of included in my post last week.

After the first two hours of practice managing to drone on for a ridiculously large amount of time today, we got to fence doubles epee again. The Prancing Jedi Ponies suited up; jackets on, gloves securely fastened, and masks in hand. That sentence would probably be cooler if I could comment on the shininess of our blades or the clank of the metal against the floor. But I didn't actually have a blade on account of me mooching a blade off of whoever wasn't using one at the time. Dayna did have an epee though, so I suppose I could have commented on the shininess of her blade and the clank of the metal when it hit the floor.

But in any case, we suited up. We being everyone in all actuality, but the Prancing Jedi Ponies (aka Dayna and I) are the focus of this here story so everyone else can just shove it. After we were adequately dressed, the PJP headed out to the gym, towards the strip, and our fate.

Match 1: Prancing Jedi Ponies vs. Amish Ninjas (Josh and Blake)

After I've bummed a blade off of Bill the fencers take their respective positions. PJP on the right, and Amish Ninjas on the left. Salutes were given and blades were prepped. Engarde. Silence. The intensity of staring down an opponent can almost be felt on the strip. As I stare into Blake's eyes through our respective masks in acknowledgment for the bout to come, I wonder if Dayna and Josh are doing the same on their side of the line. The tension is increasing as we all wait for the final signal. A single word: Fence.

Slowly we advance. Both sides taking their time, waiting the other team out, waiting for the crucial first move, waiting for an opening. Blake's guard is low, I lunge. An explosion of energy, back leg planted and stretching for more distance, front foot gliding across the floor, blade hand extending, reaching for the opening. Contact.

A buzzing can be heard from my right, the score box is lit. Green. The touch is mine. The adrenaline rushes, I've bested my foe, for now. He retreats off strip. We set up. Dayna and I staring down Josh. Two on one, his chances were slim. The touch is ours. Score 1-0. Four more to go.

And so it continues. The clank of metal, the stomp of feet, and muttered curses our soundtrack. Back and forth until there is only one left. Prancing Jedi Ponies the victors by a landslide.

Match 2: Prancing Jedi Ponies vs. Team Awesome (Brian and Bill)

We were fine until point 2-0. Team Awesome has a nasty habit of being super competitive. start winning by a significant margin... and they go crazy. Such angry fencers, the touches were harder and the pace was increased. We held our ground but the ponies eventually fell to the tune of Awesome ego's being inflated yet again.

Match 3: Prancing Jedi Ponies vs. PUSHR_4e (Brittany and Nathan)

Last match. The bout for second place. We were running out of time. Diagonal touches were brought to the max. Me and Nathan seemed to have it in for each other. The bout was close. 4-4. I tagged Brittany in the arm, two on one. We'd started a pincer formation. Dayna slightly ahead with me bringing up the rear. I was trying to lure Nathan out. He lured me. I was tagged, forced to stand on the sidelines as my teammate fought a sudden death match for second place. It was slow, it was tedious, and I the excitement was nearly tangible. The buzz of the score box is heard yet again. A green light. We've lost.

Quote of the Day:

"Is sloppiness in speech caused by ignorance or apathy? I don't know and I don't care."

-William Safire

Snow (14 of 90)

I'm sorry this is late, I wrote it yesterday (by yesterday I mean wednesday), but didn't have the chance to post it, so here goes.

Calming:

It's snowing again. I want to be angry, but it's just doo damn pretty. It just has this cleansing feeling. I can't help but relax and be happy when it snows. The frozen flurries are so much more calming than their defrosted counterparts. I like rain as well, don't get me wrong, but rain just has a different feeling. Snow is happy and pure, rain is a different beast. It's weird thinking of the different faces of water. But snow has to be my favorite.

A light snow would have to be the best kind. It's just so relaxing watching the small shapes sprinkle down from the night sky. I'm not entirely sure why, but something about the night sky and snow just resonates with me. It is quite literally my favorite time of year. I love autumn the most overall, but the falling leaves just don't fill me with the same emotions as the falling snow.

I'm not sure I'll ever know why I love the snow so much, watching it fall especially, maybe one day I'll have the time to sit down and write while it's snowing. Write about exactly how I'm feeling and why. Maybe it'll help me solve the puzzle, but until then ignorance is bliss.

Quote of the Day:

"There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you... in spring, summer, and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."

- Ruth Stout

Don't Pretend You Ever Forgot About Me (13 of 90)

I realized yesterday that this is the closest the Dailey luls has ever been to daily. Interesting lol. Sorry this post is late, I got lost on the road of life.

You never really forget:

I didn't know what this make up post was going to be until I wrote the title. I'm listening to Fall Out Boy right now. I have quite the terrible addiction. Don't judge me (or do, whatever). But in any case, here goes.

You really don't ever forget do you? I mean we all try to forget somethings, but it's almost impossible. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one who can't repress memories. That would be most unfortunate, but I'm not sure if it's unfortunate for me, or for everyone else.

I say this, because as I've said before, it's all too easy for someone you know to become someone you knew. All too easy. It makes me wonder if I'm the only one who thinks back on those old memories, the old times, and if everyone else really is as indifferent as they seem. Or if, like me, you've all developed fantastic poker faces that I'm either incapable of reading, or just unwilling to.

Are we all just a collection of old memories that we'd rather not relive? Rather not remember? Are we all fooling ourselves when we look at those people who used to be important? Or is everyone like me, and just masking that sting of pain every time someone walks by and chooses not to acknowledge you? Sometimes I wonder if that tightening of the chest is worth it all, but then I remember again. I remember and know that it hurts because it was worth it. It's worth it every time.

Quote of the Day:

"You're someone who knows someone who knows someone I once knew. And I just want to be a part of this."

-Fall Out Boy; Hum Hallelujah

Nose v. Mouth (12 of 90)

Here's some randomness to get you through the day.

Open Airways:

Over the course of the past two weeks, I've become a mouth breather. Not just any kind of mouth breather, a default mouth breather. I default on mouth breathing now. It's quite irritating.

My nose, for the most part, is fully functional now. I'm finally beginning the full recovery stage of my sickness and I am quite excited to be among the nose breathers again. However, this default mouth breaking business is causing me all sorts of issues.

I find myself mouth breathing even when I don't need to be. My nose will be perfectly clear, as it should be, and I will still be sitting there mouth open in the all to familiar pose of mouth breathers everywhere. Slack jawed, slightly glazed eyes, and... no runny nose. Just a kid mouth breathing for no particular reason. All because of this 'default' business.

My body seems to have rewired itself for the duration of my sickness. It was fine when my nose was out of commision and refusing to do it's nose-ly duties. But now, my nose has returned from its strike and is fully operational. Why shouldn't I make use of it's fully operational powers? The Emporer got to do it, ask Alderaan (or not, seeing as they were blown up). But my body refuses. Maybe it's trying to stop a disturbance in the force, or maybe it's just highly susseptiable to habit forming behaviors. Either way, I want to default on nose breathing again.

Oh nose... why are you as lazy as the rest of me?

Quote of the Day:

"Now witness the power of this fully armed and operational battle station!"

- Emperor Palpatine

One is silver and the other's gold (11 of 90)

Sorry this is late, but I haven't gone to sleep yet, so I'm not going to count it as a new day. Take that calendar!

What if you've only got silver?:

So I was going to write about the capacity to love. Or something like that. But I should have done that when I first came up with the idea, as I've now entirely forgotten what that post would have been about. Instead this might be a small history lesson. Might. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this yet.

I am a walking oxymoron. This extends to many facets of my life, most of which I will never spell out for you. But today, I'm going to let you in a little bit. Who ever happens to read this that is. Why? Because I feel the need to be brutally honest about myself for a change. So, here goes.

I have a distinct fear that everyone will at some point in time or in some way shape or form walk away.

Now, I say this because I'd like to stop that feeling but I'm not quite sure how. Not yet at least. I can't bring myself to 'trust' people. Trust being used in a highly specific way. I don't trust that they'll stick around. I don't trust that I'll know people for very long.

Now, this condition of mine probably has something to do with my family's military background, but I'm quite positive that isn't the whole of the situation. I just can't seem to keep 'friends' for very long.

The early demise of some of these short lived friendships is probably entirely my doing, I won't deny that. But other times, I just can't help but wonder exactly what it is I've done.

Am I a bad person? Am I hard to get along with? Am I a bad friend? Etc. Etc. Etc. I've spent many a day pondering those exact questions. And I'm still not entirely sure what the answers are, the fact remains that as of yet, I am the only common denominator in my train wreck of destroyed relationships.

But in any case, as a result of these factors, I'm unable to believe (as of this posting) that I'll know people for very long. I've continued the cycle my entire life, and so far, it shows no signs of slowing down. As such, I'm terribly reluctant to get attached to people. I mean, it happens anyway, when I'm not looking, but still.

I don't want to feel like my personal happiness is reliant upon another being because all too often they just walk away with it. Especially males. I'm even more reluctant to admit any fondness I may have because I like them more (sorry ladies but I just like guys better, even negating the whole sexuality bit). But despite me inherently liking them more, they also have the highest probability of just up and walking away. Interesting predicament.

Now, I bring all of this up, because I feel myself getting attached again. God only knows why, these people are clearly insane. I'd very much like to not manage to screw this up, so I'm hoping an obvious awareness for the pattern means I can stop the repetition?

Maybe I can. Maybe I can't. I'd really prefer it if the cycle didn't repeat itself this time. I like these ones. They're all awesome in their own fucktarded ways. I already feel like I've lost a few, so can I just keep the rest please?

Quote of the Day:

"An insincere friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind."

-Buddha

Family (10 of 90)

Hey lookit that, 1/10 of the way there. haha.

I Love You Guys:

I came home for the weekend and I've done absolutely nothing. It's amazing. I've been babied, I've done nothing, I haven't changed, and I got pancakes and Chinese food.

I love my family. And I mean that. I've sat around coughing and sneezing with my sister all day. We played Plants vs. Zombies and watched Psych. I'm sure we talked, but god knows I can't remember what about.

My brothers been playing games all day. He asked me to play with him, but I was being lazy. I was going to when psych was done, but he seems to have passed out. Poor thing must have been tired. He's curled up in front of the fireplace. Dang adorable little brat. I was gonna play with him eventually too. But I can't in good conscience wake up a sleeping nine year old to play modern warfare now can I?

I suppose I'll play with him tomorrow. I don't particularly like CoD or Army of Two, but I'll play with him anyway. Why? Because he's my brother, he wants me too, and he'll be able to beat me up one day.

Update:

I just looked over as I was about to post this. My sister's passed out on me as well. she's not as cute though. She's sleeping with her mouth open. Hehe. I wonder if that's how I've looked the past two weeks. If so, wow, that's unfortunate. Or maybe it is cute? Yeah, it's cute in that awww, you sickly child you kind of way. But only because she's not drooling yet.

Quote of the Day:

"A family is a unit composed not only of children, but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold."

-Ogden Nash

Uh-oh (9 of 90)

Hello Blogger. Here's a post before the NyQuil knocks me out.

So... This Maybe A Problem. Eventually:

Seems I've gotten somewhat attached. Curious how that works.

You haven't really talked to me today. And a part of me is a little mopey about it. I hate to admit that, but I feel I should be somewhat truthful here you know?

It's weird. Not talking to you I mean. Or maybe talking to you so much is weirder? I'm not sure. Nor do I particularly care. Problem here is that I haven't really talked to you today. Maybe it's the NyQuil talking, but maybe it's not.

Either way, I miss you a little bit. Just a little bit. Enough to slightly make me wonder about my sanity. This could be a problem. Whoops. I'm going to blame the meds. And the sickness. And the cold.

Quote of the Day:

"Pity the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

-Don Marquis

Great night or GREATEST night (8 of 90)

I'm sorry I'm late blogger. It's mostly my fault. But to make up I'll give you a glimpse of my daily life. Er, sorta.

My Night Was Epic:

Tonight was a blast. And I mean that. I passed out after class today, like, legit. I was asleep for two hours. I must have needed it. Hung around doing absolutely nothing before fencing, and then epicness ensued.

I was greeted with a Mickey D's iced tea when I got to fencing. A very pleasant surprise, I'll have to re-thank my gracious benefactor later. This was immediately followed by doing nothing productive and goofing off while the newbies learned the basics of reffing bouts.

I had to fence said newbies tonight as well. It was surprisingly fun. Ray is pretty good at finding little openings in my guard. Daniel has a freakishly long reach, and despite Brian's claims, disengaging was NOT as easy as it sounds.

Then we did doubles epee. So much epic. Let me assure you, it is entirely unlike couples golf. 2 on 2 fighting is the way to go.

I did have a 'scream like a little girl' moment though. I don't think they'll ever let me live it down. But it's not my fault it's slightly terrifying when Bill and Brian literally charge at you. I'm pretty sure it was a contest to see who could stab me faster.

I sword punched Blake today. Hilarity. You wouldn't think you could punch people with a sword, but it is indeed possible. Maybe next time I'll make contact, I really need to teach the boy when to back off. One of these days he's really going to agitate me to the point of causing physical harm if this keeps up.

Now for the best part. Brittany and I went out with Ray after practice. Ended up at B-Dubs. Fun time, Ray's a pretty cool guy. Then, after we left we got in his car.

He'd somehow managed to get a flat in the time we'd been in B-Dubs. We drove on this horrid flat all the way back to his apartment. His car sounded like a train wreck. A train wreck with an awesome DJ backbeat. We had like 5 different rhythms on our treck across muncie, it was failtasticly hilarious.

We ended up catching a ride back to campus with some girl named Ashley. Awful nice of her to cart us back. And now I'm sitting here, attempting to make up for my lack of post.

Oh, and as I type I keep getting this nagging voice in the back of my head that says "not enough detail! who fuckin cares?!?". It sounds an awful lot like Brad. This does not bode well.

Quote of the Day:

"In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends."

- J. Churton Collins

Shoutout (7 of 90)

Hello Blogger. I'm writing now so that I can get all of the junk out of my head before I have to write for reals.

Well That Was Fun:

But not really. My sick self had to go do the 'coffee house' style reading for my English class. Now, normally I do not mind this at all. I have no problems with reading out loud, or with sharing my work.

But, you know, every time I walk into a class room my nose decides it's the perfect time to go on the fritz.

I made it through the reading ok. Probably sounded a little nasal, but that's to be expected. It was after the reading when I fell to shit. My nose turned into a runny mess that refused to cooperate for the next 2.5 hours. Gotta love night classes.

I was a slowly expanding pile of pocket tissues with a loud cough and obvious sinus issues. Theme of the night: maintain pressure on sinus'. ...and there goes the nose, grab a new tissue. Yuck, that was kinda gross. I hope no one saw tha.... oh wait. Thirteen people in this class. Right. Everyone saw that. Well then. Back to the tissues. Cough cough hack lung. Who needs those anywa....sneeze. Damnit.

Lauren, what do you think about The Mist.

The what now... shit we had reading.

Again, this happened for approximately two hours and forty-five minutes . Off and on. On and off. Up and down. Sideways. Through a short movie. Through coffee shop. Through discussion. Through free writing. I was a snotty mess.

Finally, relief is in sight. Class is ending. Wanna know who got a shout out as class ended? This guy. It went a little something like this:

Barb: Lauren you're not feeling very well are you?

Me: -nods- haha, not really.

Barb: Well good job on making it through class. Go home.

Me: On it.

That was legitimately the way she ended class. With a shout out to my crap-tastic nose.

I am simultaneously honored and appalled. But I made it through class. That's got to be worth something, right?

Quote of the Day:

"I am not young enough to know everything."

-Oscar Wilde

Writer's Block (6 of 90)

Hello Blogger.

I'm Tired:

I've tried to start today's blog about seven times now. Every time it's failed miserably. Not for lack of effort, let me assure you. I just can't come up with a topic. Brad totally copped out today. His blog is a bunch of twitter compilations. Cheat. In the mean time, I'm sitting here with no ideas as to where this post is going to take me. None what so ever.

Before I had a vague inkling that I wanted to complain about all the stuff I have due this week. Then I felt like a lame complain-ey fool so I stopped that. Then I thought I wanted to talk about my friends. But I don't. That'll probably be a blog for another day. Don't quote me on that though, there's a large chance that I'll forget.

So here we are, third paragraph in. Normally I've made some kind of point by now, maybe the lack of point is the point? Maybe it's just my brains way of saying "I'm done". It's random rambling-ed out. I doubt it.

My friend just informed me he has retrieved his spare car. I've heard of a lot of things, but I swear I've never heard of a spare car. A spare tire, a spare key, a spare toothbrush, sure. But an entire car? I just have this silly image in my head of him pulling a car out of his pocket. Then laughing and talking about how awesome he is. The more I think about it, the stupider the picture gets. I wish I could draw, this image in my head is epic.

I'm sorry this is such a waste of space. I fear for the future if I can't even make it through 10 blog posts before running out of ideas.

Quote of the Day:

"Writing is 90% procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials. It's a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing, until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write."

-Paul Rudnick

Inspiration (5 of 90)

Morning everyone. I'm not sure how to intro this, so I'll just let it speak for itself.

Racing, these thoughts of mine:

Tonight, the words, they woke me. The ebbed, they flowed, they moved, they lived. I awoke their eager servant, searching for some method in which to capture them, these fleeting thoughts of mine. I lost most of them. I captured a sentence, kidnapped it from my drowsy mind. It's safe now, residing in the only device I could find... my phone. In my three fourths sleep state I'd been a DJ. The words had ebbed and flowed like the music I'd played. They'd come alive through me. I've saved my sentence. I've saved part of my life force. I've saved a piece of a precious part of me that's been leaking out as I slumber.

It's 5 am now. On February the 15th, 2010. I realized in that instant, the instant between blowing my nose and flushing the john, I've had my moment of clarity. The moment that tells me there is nothing else. That this, for better or worse, is what I was have to do. I have to chase the words, the prose, the stories. As I sit here cross legged and writing by the meager offerings of my iPod touch I know that tonight I shall go to sleep secure in my knowledge of my future and what it holds. I am also secure in the knowledge that if my roommate ever asks me about tonight, I will shrug and say "toilet" before nodding off again.

It's 10 am now. Five hours have passed since my revelation. If I hadn't written it down I know my waking self would have passed it off as a dream. I'm not sure I know any more than I knew at 5 o'clock this morning. I can't recall if I've ever been woken by the words before. Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. But the words, they were so clear. I could see everything, hear everything, feel everything. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I do know that I'll spend the rest of my life chasing these fleeting thoughts of mine.

Quote of the Day:

"Valentines Day Plan: Same as everyday. Stay in love."

-Krystal Martos

Instant Messing Gone Wrong (4 of 90)

It took me a while to figure out what today's (legit) post would be. But it just came to me, so here goes.

Oh Internets...:

I've come to the realization that a significant portion of my interaction with people is conducted through this lovely series of tubes we call the internet. Now, never mind the fact that many people would consider this 'sad' or what not. I am still a distinctly social creature who just happens to utilize the marvels of modern technology more than some of my counterparts. Maybe it is sad, I'm not sure, ask the experts in 15 years or so. But back on topic, the internet does pose some problems for communication.

The main problem being the lack of emotion or context. On the internet you can hide behind a lovely veil of ambiguity. Very few know exactly what you're thinking or doing when you type something. For instance, as I type this I am in PJs, I don't believe I've bushed my hair today, and I'm mouth breathing. You would never know this if I hadn't told you. Or maybe you would, depending on how well you know me (ex: if you know me well you'd know I am distinctly anti-pants while in my room, you'd also know that I am sick and therefore mouth breathing, and that the odds of me not brushing my hair on a Sunday (when I have nothing to do) are vastly increased due to my lazy nature).

Now let's concentrate on the lack of context for a moment. I am, on a whole, a very sarcastic person. I also have a tendency to make light of most, if not all, situations for various reasons. If you do not know this about me, or just do not have experience with this side of me, it makes internet communications increasingly difficult. Without the proper context, you'd have no idea if I was joking or not, even with emoticons or similar emotion markers.

Moving on to the lack of emotion on the internet. I'm not claiming that there is no emotion on the internet by all means. I'm merely claiming that at times it is difficult to interpret. On the internets something said with the purest of intentions can go horribly awry because of the lack of concrete emotional context. People cannot see the grin on my face, or hear the sadness in my voice. They only see the words (and often times an accompanying emoticon). And because of this, if you are not expertly acquainted with a persons textual speaking style, you can soon become confused as to what they actually mean.

I say all this because, I have this friend you see. And we seem to frequently get frustrated at each other in our message based encounters. Or more accurately, he gets frustrated with me for what ever it is I've typed and I, in turn, get frustrated with him for getting frustrated with me.

This is a fairly common occurrence. Now, I'm positive some of this comes from our differing natures (He tends to talk and think about more 'serious' issues more frequently than I do, whereas I tend to avoid said topics like the plague) but a large part comes from textual miscommunication. I tend to type 'lol' or ':P' as a filler of sorts. I may not actually be laughing (or I may actually be laughing, which is probably a large part of the issue) but I still use it.

These differing ways of utilizing types of information markers work in a vocal setting. So far, at least in my experience, the differences have not transferred over (well) to purely text based communication forms.

Makes me wonder if, over time, we'll learn to interpret the subtle difference in text based contexts any better than we already do. I'm not entirely sure what the point of this blog was, but here it is. My contemplations of word usage in society. And my ranting and raving about my friend who never understands what I'm trying to say.

I'll still instant message and text message though. I don't like people nearly enough to want to have to CALL them all the time. By god how did anyone ever live like that. Calling people. Preposterous.

Quote of the Day:

"We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards can produce the complete works of Shakespeare; now, thanks to the internet, we know that this is not true."

-Robert Wilensky

Muttered Curse (3 of 90)

I just realized I never posted yesterday. So I guess I'll post twice today to make up for it? Does this even work like that? I'm not sure, but it's going to now.

I'm Sorry I Forgot:

I just entitled this post "Shit" after the moment when I realized I hadn't posted. I don't think I'm supposed to use curse words in my writing anymore. Or at least that's what Brad says. But at the same time, Barb says go ahead as long as its for a reason.

But of course, both believe that there are better ways to express what characters are thinking without resorting to the cheap curse filled cop-out. Let's explore how this would work out in this situation, shall we?

The buildup: I'm just sitting in bed wondering how I should spend my Valentines Day. I don't know why I'm bothering to think about this. It all comes down to: find someone to hang out with or chill in my room hiding from view. As I'm checking various websites I come to the startling realization... I forgot to blog yesterday.

The situation: Now my natural reaction to this startling realization was to curse under my breath (the word happened to be 'shit' this time around) and scramble back to my blogger. In a fiction piece, I think I could manage to convey the feelings without ever cursing. It would take a lot more words than a simple 'shit' would need, but it could be done. Same for a magazine article I suppose.

The conclusion: I think 'shit' is appropriate here. It's short and sweet. Like the moment that birthed it. It's simplicity. For the character (me in this case) it's a natural reaction. A simple uttering that is forgotten the moment it's said.

Then again, maybe that's why it's not needed? Maybe that's why I'm supposed to gloss over curse words? Because they're unnecessary? Because the character has long forgotten about the uttering? Why name it if the character doesn't even remember what was said. The phrase 'a muttered curse' would do just as fine. Who needs to know what the word was if the character herself cannot recall it.

Touche, Brad and Barb. Touche.

I'll go change my title now.

Quote of the Day:

"One of the best rules in conversation is, never to say a thing which any of the company can reasonably wish had been left unsaid. "

-Jonathan Swift

Happy Valentines Day (2 of 90)

I Love You:

It's that time of year again. The time of year when it seems like half the world is excited and happy and content with all that they are and the one that they love. But for the other half, it's a time to look at what they believe they don't have. What they feel they're missing.

Today is Friday February the Twelfth. Two days before Valentines Day. The start of Valentines weekend.

Now, we're all fast approaching (or already there) that point in our lives where love is a big deal. Now, I don't mean to make it sound like love is trivial before this point in our lives (love is never trivial). But most of us have reached a stage in our lives where love, and more importantly someone to love is a very important goal.

So understandably, some love this holiday, and some of us hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand dying suns. It reminds us of our weakness. Of the fact that no one loves us. Of the fact that we feel desperately alone in this universe.

Now, personally, I can't particularly relate to either school of thought. I'm not in love, nor have I ever been. I'm just a kid. A kid who loves to flirt and talk and read and write and play and more importantly; flirt, talk, read, write and play with you. A kid who loves you with her whole heart.

So for anyone reading this. For anyone feeling that sting of loneliness that this time of year tends to bring. For anyone not feeling that sting. For anyone I've ever known. For anyone whose helped shape who I am. For everyone I've ever met. I love you.

I love you.

Because I don't say it enough. Because it's true. Because I'll never be nice enough to admit it again. Because I'm a spoiled brat who doesn't deserve any of you. Because you need to hear it. Because I need to say it. Just Because.

I love you, and I mean that.

Now if you all will excuse me. I'm going to crawl back into my hide-y hole with a bunch of tissues till I can face you all again.

Love,

Lauren

Excitement! (1 of 90)

Hullo all. Here's post 1 of 90. Or maybe this counts as 2? I'm not sure how this works. Nor am I about to willingly announce the existence of this blog. I'll just count it as post numero uno.

I'm Not Entirely Sure What I'm Going To Write:

So I suppose I'll start with the basics. I'm really excited.

Like really. I realized today that for the next year of my life, my job(1) is to read. And to write. How awesome is that? Some people, my roommate included, would think this is some terrible fate.

But I'm super excited. I get to read what everyone is writing. I get to see different styles. I get to read so many stories that I would have never found on my own. And in addition to reading, I get to write.

I get to write a lot of different types of stories for the next year. I don't know what any of them will be about, but I'm excited. I've already written a few things this semester, all of them I've had fun with.

I complain about having so much to write sometimes, ok, lots of times, but once I sit down(2) I enjoy (almost) every moment of it. The writing I mean. The initial throwing of thoughts on paper. It's a very liberating experience. All the jumbled stuff in my head? It's on paper now. I can think about other things. I've told the story, it's out. It's created. I made something, something that can't exist without me. I love the feeling(3).

So that's why I'm excited. I've got a year of uninhibited that in front of me. It's a lovely thought. Partially. Kind of. It's also kind of overwhelming. I wonder if I have that many stories in me. If I won't shrivel up due to lack of story. If I won't explode 'cause of story overload.

I guess it's kind of a double edged sword? I'm excited but scared beyond belief at the same time. Don't tell anyone though, I've done a fairly decent job of convincing everyone I'm some form of super self confident super hero.

____________________

I put in all these footnotes because my teacher made an aside in class. To try writing with them. We're learning about David Foster Wallace who uses a lot, and I mean a lot, of footnotes. So I'm going to try it for a while. See how it works out. So far so good? Maybe? I'm not sure.

(1) by job here I mean school is my job, you know? I know it's kind of rare for kids these days not to have jobs in school, but school is my job. It's my job to do good. I'd like to really work at that from now on.

(2) by sit down. I really mean, sit down, stop talking to my roommate, start ignoring my AIM chats (or just log out of AIM in general, ignore twitter updates, essentially remove myself from the social sphere. Maybe just music, maybe not even that. I should really put myself in a more conductive environment for writing more often.

(3) feeling. The feeling of letting it all out. The revision process, however, (which makes up the majority of writing) is horrible. I hate it. With a passion. Stupid revision. I've already written about it before. Maybe I'll write more about it at a later date. If I remember.

Quote of the Day:

"The best way to keep one's word is not to give it."

-Napoleon Bonaparte

Here there be updates

Secret Updates. Hehe. I've neglected this for so long I wonder who even remembers it exists. I've spent most of my time on my tumblr since December (note the last date stamps on Journalistic luls) and I can't say I regret it. I love my tumblr. It's for my itty-bitty random thoughts. Fleeting, oh this is cool, or that's an awesome picture of a unicorn crushing ponies.

I Did Not Expect This To Be My Post:

I think that's why I pay attention to my tumblr more. It functions more like my brain, in fleeting moments. In scrapbook pictures of what I enjoy. In brief insights to the world around me. Flashes. It doesn't have to make sense, it's not as concrete as a "real" blog. A thought out blog with edits and you know, developed thoughts.

Then again, maybe it is more real. At least, it's probably more real for me. I don't have time to edit singular thoughts. If you give me more than 30 seconds to decide if somethings cool or worth posting, I will debate, ponder, and cater to the audience. It's not 'me' any more. Oh sure it's still my thought, but it's probably my thought tailored to the listener. "will he like it, will he think I'm crazy(er), will she hate me once she reads this" and so on and so forth. But then again, I normally just do shit any way and say screw all you people.

Sorry loves, but really, I don't particularly care what you think.

Now, back to the main point. I love my tumblr. But I won't abandon my blogger, savvy? (Yes, I watched pirates yesterday, and Yes, I am that easily influenced) Now why won't I abandon my blogger, after months of doing just that?

Well lets just call this winter cleaning. It's awfully snowy outside, and I have little better to do. Also because I'm stealing this 90 updates in 90 days thing from my crazy mag prof. (Yes, I did, in fact, call him 'my crazy mag prof' knowing full well there is a chance that he'll lurk the internets and find out what I've done)

It sounds like a good idea. I think I want to be a writer, so why shouldn't I write? We'll see. You and me internets. If I can't even write about one thing a day for 3 months, why should I pretend I'm a writer? At the very least, by the end of this 90 days, by the end of this semester, I should know if I really want to be a writer. Or if, you know, I've been wasting my time and need to go be a lawyer or something. Or if that doctor gig really was the way to go.

In any case, here's to 90 days internet. 90 (you see what I did there? I'm shirking AP style out of spite! spite I say! That's for canceling class, then un-canceling it, and then not even showing up you evil news lady you!) days of ramblings from yours truly.

Quote of the Day:

"Hi!... Sorry. Talking's probably not good right now is it?"

- Girl on my floor (after seeing my horrible sickly nasty snot face)