Burlap Soul

It's so much easier to write the truth at night. For as depressing and morose as it may seem, the truth just comes easier late at night by a single lamplight with the hum of a computer hard drive and an iTune or two.

In the morning, no way. We like to fool ourselves about the truth just so that we can get through the day, feel the sunshine without interruptions or stains upon our motivation. For instance, I am telling myself that because I got perfect scores on the past two homework assignments and because I am ahead of the game as far as schoolwork and reading are concerned, that it is not necessary to go to class this morning. That I am somehow 'beyond' going to class, that staying at home and catching up on some much needed rest is more important than wasting my precious time and energy walking to a class that is somehow 'beneath' my ingenious brain. That nurturing my brain with sleep is somehow more important than nurturing it with knowledge.

Of course, if it were night time, I would be telling myself to just suck it up and get on with it instead of rationalizing my way out of attending the classes that I signed my own ass up for and am currently bitching about, thankyouverymuch. Then, I would promptly tell myself to get to bed because 'you are not missing class tomorrow dammit' and it's about time you acted like an adult and went to bed at a decent hour anyway.

However, it's not night time. It's 9:16 am, it's cold, it's snowy, it's still miserably gray and wintery outside, my class starts in 9 minutes and I am here, still sitting in my pajamas unable to keep my eyes open.

Yes, we fool ourselves in the mornings but only to a point. Somehow, despite our biggest protests, it's the morning that reveals more truth than we could ever even know.

This entry was originally posted in my memory blog last summer, but after rediscovering it, I wanted to post it here as well. It rings very true for me lately and I'm considering actually unloading some stuff into the memory blog again very soon. Yep, it's been one of those weeks.

I was sitting outside of a class the other day in the psych building. While waiting for an appointment with my advisor, I sat down on a bench to gather some paperwork and consequently eavesdropped on the class lesson. The instructor was teaching education majors how to deal with abused children in the classroom. He was trying to explain the mindframe of an abused child. I couldn't stop listening....

"Basically, there are three voices in your head if you come from one of these homes.

The child voice is the one that has always been told what to do. He has never had the opportunity to make any of his own choices so he doesn't understand that it's okay to make a wrong decision and suffer normal consequences. He needs to be told what to do constantly because he doesn't trust his own judgement. He can't stand to be told that he's wrong. If you criticize him, he gets defensive. These are the people that always have an excuse. It's never their fault.

The parent voice is the one that's overly critical. It tells you that you're stupid, you're never enough, you're never doing anything right. It blames you for everything and never gives you a reason for wanting things done. These are the ones that say, 'because I said so. That's why.' These are the ones that can absolutely positively never be pleased, no matter what.

Then there's the adult voice. If children from these homes normally hear this adult voice in their heads, they're lucky. The adult voice makes sound decisions, takes the blame when they're at fault. They make decisions and choices and understand that if the wrong choice is made, it's still okay. The adult voice is democratic.

Now, imagine that all three of these voices are fighting for attention in your head. [pause - audible silence and slight gasp in the classroom] Yeah, doesn't sound very fun, does it? That's what you need to remember when dealing with these children."

I sat outside that room on that bench and my breath stopped. I felt like a deaf person hearing someone say my name for the first time.

All this time, I thought I was alone in the whole 'voices in my head' sort of thing. I knew I wasn't schizophrenic and wasn't having actual audio hallucinations in my head. I've always had the most difficult time explaining the constant criticism that goes on in my brain on a daily basis. And here I was, sitting outside a freaking education class and hearing about my entire life's battle with abuse. Why in the hell was this not being taught to me as a psych major? Why in the hell was I being told to memorize terms like "learned helplessness" and "PTSD" and "repressed memories" instead of just being told flat-out that an "abused child will wrestle with three different voices in their head and you need to understand this?" Why in the fuck was this being kept from me?

This is the shit I need to learn about. Not the statistics and the methods and the I.Q. tests that categorize people without actually trying to help them. Where in the hell were these lessons when I was spending the last 27 years falling apart inside from the seclusion and loneliness? Where were these professors when I was dying inside because I didn't think anyone else would understand what it's like? As a psych major, why am I not being taught how to deal with abused kids? Isn't that the whole damn point?

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by all the sadness in the world. Every time I see an animal in a cage somewhere, I cannot help but cry. You can call me a weird-ass hippie if you want, but it's not going to change me. I don't get political. I don't debate government policy. I don't maintain a single stance on every single issue. I don't feel the need to tell everyone what I think of this law or that amendment or the politicians. But ironically, when it comes to animal rights and the issue of overpopulation in so many underfunded animal shelters, I get downright furious. I will not scream in your face and be an idiot that undermines the entire animal rights movement with my fanaticism (read: P3TA member), but I will guarantee that you will walk away knowing so many more things about the way animals in our country are really treated than you ever wanted to know. I don't argue with anger, I argue with knowledge.

It's not the massive amount of animals that need homes that saddens me. It's the fact that I cannot provide every single one of them with the homes they deserve. I think I am the only person I know that will watch a hundred different chick flicks and never shed a single tear, but after watching a ten minute segment on search and rescue dogs and therapy dogs for abused kids, I will bawl my damn eyes out with joy both for the people and the dogs.

I have a lot of pets, but I am not a hoarder. I know that hoarding animals gets you nowhere and does nothing for the animals you think you're helping. I also know that many hoarders have mental illnesses that let them get suckered into their situations easily. Everyone has a 'crazy cat lady' in their memory that was most likely just a slightly ill old lady that woke up to too many tossed out kittens on her back doorstep and didn't know what else to do. Call me insane, but there are so many nights where I have gone to bed sad and crying because I started thinking about all the animals all over the world that are living on the streets, lonely, scared, tortured, starving, cold, while my cats lie curled up and cozy on a thick bedroom comforter or even in their own chairs. However, I try to take great comfort in the fact that my animals are treated very well and for every single one out there that isn't loved, I will hug one of mine just a little more for them every night.

It's for this reason that I get so unbelievably sick of my father's stupid passing comments. "You still got all those cats?" Yes. "Ew." He hasn't said this just once, but he says it every single fucking time we talk on the phone. Every single time he comes to visit, he sits and stares at them like they're radioactive and might contaminate him with their touch. It just gets on my damn nerves. You know, if you don't like cats, that's fine. But don't be an ass about it. Seriously. If I come to your house and you have a pet tarantula that you adore, you wouldn't like it if I just sat there and told you how much I hate tarantulas, would you? So have some damn respect. If I don't like the tarantula, I don't have to look at it. If you hate cats that damn much, then you don't have to visit.

This is my thing. This is my issue. My love of animals is a huge part of who I am and how I got to be this way. I will not shove it in your face and make you eat tofu. I will not demand that you pet my cats and play with my dog. I will not force you to be me. But I will expect that if you are coming to visit my home or play a part in my daily life, then you will have some damn respect for the way I live within it. Just because you like daffodils does not mean that I have to like them, but I will respect your right to like daffodils and hell, I'll probably even buy them for you someday. The same way that you don't have to like neon-colored daisies just because I do. But if you come into my house and see 100 bouquets of neon-colored daisies, well don't take that as a license to freely piss on them.

You won't be coming back.

The expression on this dog's face is cracking me up. She just looks like her name should be Brucella or something. Don't fuck with Brucella. She just got out of prison and I hear that she has a glass eye from when she tried to kill a man for waking her up too early. She's a bad ass, that Brucella. Stay away from that.

Things I keep meaning to tell you about, but keep forgetting to tell you about:

- Bought my cap and gown today
- Almost cried when she handed me my tassel
- Won a 3 day-2 night honeymoon vacation at an all inclusive resort in Mexico on Monday (no shit)
- Have been kicking ass on my school assignments so far
- Actually haven't been shit broke lately (but shhh! don't curse it!)
- Will be taking a photo midterm tomorrow and then beginning Spring Break
- Will either be
A) sleeping for a week
B) finally decorating and painting the bedroom
C) working on prints for my midterm photo critique that are due 3/17
D) working on statistics labs and other various homework assignments that need to be caught up on
E) all of the above
F) none of the above
- Am not getting enough proper rested sleep as I am staying up entirely too late to hang out on the computer
- Seriously need to start taking better care of myself and my tired, tired body
- Just because I'm being treated doesn't mean the hypothyroidism has gone away
- Nothing shakes a bad funk like shoe shopping with your mom
- Somewhere out there is my perfect pair of sparkly hot pink wedding shoes. Somewhere.
- It's time for bed. Seriously. Nite-nite.

Appetizer - Who is the one person you email more often than anyone else? J.

Soup - So far, which year of your life has been the most enjoyable? I think this one is gearing up to be a real winner. ;-)

Salad - Name someone with whom you have lost touch but would like to reunite. My old friend Dreama from high school and maybe a couple of my really close theatre friends from years ago.

Main Course - What was the tastiest meal you had this past week? Olive Garden - Ravioli di Portabello. Mmmm, heaven.

Dessert - Using the letters in your favorite color, write three words that describe your personality. This is difficult, as my usual favorite color is blue, but lately I am seriously obsessed with hot pink/deep fuschia. Oh hell, I'll do both.

Blunt
Loopy
Universal
Enigmatic

Honest
Ornery
Theatric

Phunky
Impatient
Neurotic
Kinetic

Now, with any luck, I am off to go shoe shopping with my mom in order to kick off my SPRING BREAK!!! WEEEEEEEE!!!!

Stolen from Shelby's place, especially because I like her new rules.

Here are the rules:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.

My results (oh damn, this is soooo lame):

Taken from the No-Shit-Sherlock wedding book (yes, that's a joke title.)

Remove the veil altogether at the reception, restyling your hair and perhaps inserting pearl pins or a jeweled hair comb for an entirely new look, ready for the party. Choose a tiara or headpiece that completes your bridal look and makes you feel like a princess. Try on a variety of styles and heights, always as you're wearing your gown, for the complete look.

Gee, can you guess what books are surrounding my computer right now?

And as a final note before bed, today is the 2-year anniversary of the day Gypsy first came into our lives. It seems like a million changes have happened in the past two years, but she has been our constant and we honestly couldn't imagine life without her.

From the goofy little shy dog sitting and beckoning to us in an overrun shelter with those big brown eyes to the spoiled baby that receives gifts from Grandma on a daily basis.

Yep. She's come a long way baby. Here's to many more years of beagle bliss. :-)

I don't know what it is I come in here and expect to write. Sometimes I think it's my curse to forever walk this earth with so many questions all fighting for space in my head. Today, I am on the verge of tears and I have no real reason. Well, I take that back. I have about 150 reasons, but no way to articulate them and by the time I was through with the first ten, I'd be bored with myself and give up anyway.

This wedding thing is driving me crazy. For as fun as it sounds to wear awesome fuschia shoes and have a lily in my hair, in the end it is not who I am. The more we start scouting for a damn venue and going over the actual price lists of having a reception, the more I start realizing that doing this for everyone else is not like me at all. My original fantasy in all this was to fly off to a romantic island and do it there, just the two of us. Now that I start visualizing his friends, his mother, my family, my cousins all sitting and staring at us as we exchange vows, it becomes absolutely terrifying to me. I don't want everyone else to share the day with us. I don't want everyone else giving us weird glances while we do a non-traditional ceremony. I don't want anyone else's damn nose in what we share. You might consider that selfish, but the truth is that that's exactly how I am. I don't give a shit if anyone else witnesses our ceremony. I really don't care. Focusing on just us is really all that I can manage and that's really all I care to manage.

Running off to Vegas, getting married by a Justice of the Peace on the front of a roller coaster? That's me. That's my style. That's who I am and that's exactly something that I would thoroughly enjoy and always remember and never regret. Getting dolled up in a white dress when I hate wearing dresses and never wear white? Paying nearly twenty bucks a head for every single person in my family to just come and bitch about the traffic and the food and how much they hate "big cities like Cincinnati"? Sooo not me. However, because everyone else has fucked up their marriages and their weddings royally, me running off and eloping would cause the biggest. stink. ever. Seriously. You have no idea the wrath that would incur from doing such a thing. Especially when you consider the massive guilt trip that I'll get from both my mother ("You're my only child! You're the only chance I get to be a mother of the bride!") and my father who raised me practically on his own ("Well, your sister ran off and got married because she was 16 and pregnant, so I don't guess I'll get to walk you down the aisle either.")

Did they actually say these things to me? No. (Well, actually my mom did say that when I brought up the idea of an elopement.) But my father? Nope, I can just hear in my head what he would say and what everyone else would say and it just makes me fucking crazy.

Why do I have to pay all this money for a wedding just because everyone else wants it? Why do I have to do all this coordinating and give myself all these headaches just so that everyone else can be happy? I don't want a big damn wedding. I don't want a small damn wedding. I don't want any damn wedding. I want to run off somewhere and do it in a wild and unique way and say fuck-it to everything traditional. I hate traditional! God, how I hate it! I hate the way the woman is paraded out like a piece of jewelry. I hate the way the man is just standing up there waiting for her to arrive like he's getting some royal prize just for showing up. I hate the fact that a woman is expected to be drop-dead-flawless and get painful waxings and tweezings galore weeks ahead of time and the man just has to get a haircut and take a shower. I know that it's supposed to feel romantic for me and that I'm supposed to feel like royalty, but I'm not a princess now nor have I ever wanted to be. I want to feel like a powerful woman and all this wedding planning is just making me feel like a prop that's only meant to be seen and not heard.

Perhaps it's all the feminist history classes I've taken or the fact that I grew up in Appalachia and can tell you first-hand how it feels to never be taken seriously just because you're a girl. Perhaps it's just my inner tomboy finally getting pissed and speaking out. But whatever it is, I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of every person at every wedding vendor looking at me and handing all the decisions to me, like J. has no part in it because he's the man. I'm sick of every book and vendor assuming that I have somehow dragged him kicking and screaming into the idea of marriage. I'm sick of every single wedding book I read telling me to make sure I coordinate my waxings and pedicures exactly one week, 48 hours and 2 minutes prior to my wedding ceremony. I'm sick of everyone telling me who pays the officiant and exactly how I'm supposed to talk to him and exactly what I'm supposed to ask him.

You know, I'm a grown fucking woman. I can make my own damn decisions. I bought your book for advice, not a freakin' how-to manual on my own damn wedding. I invited you to shop for bridal gowns with me just because I'd like to look and get some damn ideas. That does not mean that you have the right to tell me that ivory is really better than white or whatever else I have chosen. I asked you to be my maid of honor because you're my dearest friend and I want you to be there. That does not mean that I need to constantly hear about how much you hate this color or that color or how much every single thing I have picked will make you look fat. We invited you there because we wanted you to share in this day with us and be happy for us. That does not mean that I need to hear your every opinion on how sinful it is to have an outside wedding or how blasphemous you think it is that we had a Wiccan handfasting along with a Catholic blessing.

You know what? This is who we are. He's Catholic. I'm not. He's religious. I'm not. But he loves me anyway. Marriage is not about what kind of a god you pray to. It's about loving each other and deciding that you want to love each other forever and proving it however you want to prove it. It's not about sex. It's not about gender. It's not about appeasing the gods. And it sure as hell isn't about you.

So what if I'm not religious? So what if I don't even know where in the hell I stand on the scale of spirituality? Just because I want a Wiccan handfasting at my ceremony does not mean that I am purposely trying to piss off the Christians. Just because we choose to also have a priest at our ceremony does not mean A) that I have suddenly seen the error of my ways and become Catholic or B) that we are trying to piss off the non-christians.

You know what? I don't understand the whole concept of "God" but I understand the animals. I understand the beauty in the trees. I understand the wonder of sitting next to a stream and feeling at peace with your life. However, I do understand that a relationship with God is not dependent on what you do every Friday or Sunday. I don't know where I am religiously. I don't know if I'm Wiccan or Catholic or Buddhist or even Jewish. I don't know if I'm anything at all. But what I do know is that no matter what I am now or what I decide to follow in the future, it does not mean that I can or cannot marry someone that has already decided on a faith that is different from mine. It does not mean that because I am not officially recognized by his church, somehow he cannot possibly love me. It does not mean that if I do not choose a faith by our wedding date, he will not continue to love me no matter what.

The ironic thing in all this is that for as quiet as we have kept this entire shindig, the cacophony of voices in the peanut gallery gets louder and louder every single day in my head. And yet still, we haven't physically told a single soul. What in the hell's going to happen when we tell them at my graduation?

Seriously? Tahiti is looking nicer and nicer every day.

Wanna see something simultaneously hilarious and nauseating? Head on over to the photolog. It's only there for a limited time, but you can download it and keep it forever.

Consider it my gift to you. ;-P

Lest you think I have completely lost my mind and gone overbored with beagles, let me assure you that this design is purely for comic relief. I am not expecting to win any amazing design awards with it, but I can tell you that it will make me laugh every damn time I see it. Gypsy's 'come hither' look always cracks my shit up. Especially when she does it while wearing a giant green bow on her head. Really, how can you not laugh?

Plus, it's March. Time to let go of the black and slowly start walking toward the light again. I mean, have you noticed my graduation counter over there? Less than 60 days until graduation, my friends. Two freakin' months. After Spring Break is over with, we will be halfway through what I am now realizing is The Longest Semester Ever. Honestly, I cannot wait. Bring on a pint. Bring on some spring. Let's get this party started.

Yeah, I changed it again. Honestly, the other one was so tacky it was already getting on my nerves. Believe it or not, I think this one's much classier. Heh.

And really, it's closer to my mood lately. Until Spring gets here, I'm going to be one pissy bitch anyway. So why not run with it?

Mazeltov to Jess and Michael on the birth of their beautiful baby girl yesterday! Jess is the main reason I started blogging nearly 3 years ago and I remember that at that time, her and Michael had just become engaged. It's so wonderful and fulfilling to see things coming full circle for you, my dear friend! I am so happy for both of you! Congratulations!

New entry at the photoblog. I've got to find some sort of little photo or something to put here whenever I update the photolog instead of just saying the same old "new entry at the photoblog" crap.

Oh yeah, it's audience participation too. Your vote counts! (heh, heh.. that's just a funny statement.)

I want to post something here today, but I have no idea what that would be. I have a vague recollection of having a post in my head this morning but I could've been dreaming. Such is my memory these days. Lately, I'm lucky if I can remember what in the hell day it is now and what in the hell day it was yesterday.

Spring break is officially over. Classes are back in session with a vengeance. Once again, I am behind and have no idea how in the hell that happened - especially considering I was ahead of the game before the break.

Currently I am feeling the onset of a massive headache and am just hoping and praying that some food will fix it and I can get on with my homework. If I don't get these prints done for my midterm critique on Thursday, I am going to be royally screwed.

Three good things though:

Being 'financially-improved' enough for J. to be able to just say, "Hey, don't worry. I'll just pick up a pizza for dinner. You get some rest." Last year at this time, that would have either A) depleted our entire bank account or B) been damn near impossible.

My hardass art professor seeing Print #1 today while I was printing it out in the lab and stopping to say, "Hey. Nice print!" You have no idea what an ego boost it is to hear something like that from him.

A weekend with J. in which I not only got a bouquet of my favorite - and wonderful smelling - flowers (oriental lillies), but also received a promise that he would do an entry a day over at his place this week just for me. Part of his other promise to make me the #1 priority in his life again and remind me every day how much he loves me. The change has been noteworthy and has done its job. I feel very, very loved... again.

Wow. What a week... and it's only Tuesday. Or is it Wednesday? Hell, I don't know.

Anyway, you can see what I've been working on for my digital photo class over in the photolog. It's midterm critique time which means I've been busting my ass and depriving myself of sleep in order to understand Photoshop and use it to my advantage. Feel free to cruise on over and let me know what you think. If I haven't gone completely blind from staring at the tiniest of pixels for the past week, I might even be able to read your feedback. ;-)

Sorry, guys, but I am in an academic spider hole until at least the end of this week. (which seems really really far away still). That's why there hasn't been much substance here lately except for well, the homework I'm doing for my digital photo class. But there are things going on with us. Nothing major or huge, I just haven't had the time to write about them in any sort of detail... and usually when I do have the time (and inclination) to write about such things, it comes in bullets.

If you want to know more about what we've been doing this week, head over to J.'s place. Especially if you want to know about the lovely crap we had to do yesterday because of ... oh, I'm not going into all of it, my blood pressure will make my head pop off. And yes, I still have to finish my homework and get my photo assignment done for today and then work on the 4 lab assignments for my psych classes and have those done by the weekend and then the exam that I have to study for on Tuesday...

You get the idea. He has more. Happy St. Paddy's day. Please have a pint for me?

Initially I didn't think today could be much worse than yesterday. After all of the mess with the burglary yesterday, I ended up with a wicked migraine that kept me from finishing my photo assignment that was due today. After getting nearly 12 hours of sleep, I can still feel it trying to come back right now, too. Lovely.

However, today did suck royally. I'm not going into the details because I will just get upset again, but let me just say this:

Not all of us are here to get credits. Not all of us are here to get shit for our resume. Not all of us are here to drink ourselves stupid. Not all of us are here to have sex with strangers at drunken parties. Not all of us are here to make ourselves marketable.

Some of us are here because it is a fucking privilege within our families to be able to go to college, much less finish and get a degree. Some of us are here to learn more about who we are and what we want to do with our lives. Some of us are here to gain counsel from those that we assume are "smarter" than ourselves. And believe it or not, some of us are actually here to learn.

So if all you want to do is judge me based on some partying college student stereotype that you have formed in your head or berate me for not having "pleased" you, then you know what? You can kiss. my. fucking. ass.

When I am out in the real world, it is not you who will be signing my paycheck. It is not you who will be determining how talented I am at what I do. It is not you who will be rating my personal worth. Come down off your high horse and look beyond your nose. Maybe, just maybe, you might see that there are other people in the world that are not you and that - gasp! - they are not kissing the ground you walk on. That job, my friend, has already been filled by the person staring back at you in the mirror.

New adult-themed entry in the photolog, just to match my mood today.

Happy St. Paddy's Day. I know I'm seeing green today, though it's more of the Hulk variety. But it still counts as part of that sweet Irish temper, right? Yeah, I thought so.

Considering the crabby-ass weekend that I am having, it's a miracle I even checked my email as I have been the most scattered and bitchy person on the planet today. Blame it on stress, blame it on professors, blame it on the rain (yeah yeah). However, I'm glad I did check my email, as this is one of the few things that made me laugh out loud today.

Dig those pink Chucks.

I should probably be straight with you. There's a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't told you about. Not because I'm ashamed of them or because I'm afraid of your feedback. No, it's because I honestly cannot remember to ever tell you anything. And somehow by writing it here, it becomes real and I suppose that's the scariest thing of all.

You see, I'm sick. I don't know exactly what's wrong with me, nor do I have some clinical term to throw out to compare it to or give you some idea of what's going on. I know that something's off. I know that something's not quite right. I know myself well enough to at least know that.

It's about time for a new one... (Stolen from Laura.)

Accent – Eastern Kentucky, Ohio or none at all. I'm a hodgepodge really.
Bra size – Good
Chore I hate – Dishes
Dad's name – Charles
Essential make-up – Concealer, Lipstick
Favorite perfume – None - I can't stand the stuff. I use my shower gel for smells instead.
Gold or Silver - Silver, definitely.
Hometown – A-----D, Kentucky (avoiding the search engines on that one, thanks)
Interesting fact - I'm more fun and outspoken in real life than you might think just from reading my blog.
Job title – Professional Student, Keeper of the Ark, Love Goddess to the Dork
Kids - None
Living arrangements – Various rented dwellings with him and an ever-increasing animal kingdom for the last 5 years
Mom's Birthplace – Same as mine
Number of apples eaten in last week – Zero
Overnight hospital stays – Once when born, once at the age of 2 months for emergency stomach surgery and once for 4 nights with pneumonia in 1st grade
Phobia – Arachnophobia
Question you ask yourself a lot - Pick one, I can't: Why? Now what? What's the point? What the hell was I thinking?
Religious affiliation – Who knows?
Siblings – One half-sister
Time I wake up – Monday, Wednesday, Friday: 9am - Tuesday, Thursday: 8am
Unnatural hair color – None, I've been all natural my entire life
Vegetable I refuse to eat – Squash
Worst habit – Nail-biting or insane impatience
X-rays – Teeth (I never had wisdom teeth, na-na-na-boo-boo!), Chest (for the pneumonia), Feet (for plantar fasciitis)
Yummy food I make – Vegetable Lasagna, Pumpkin Cheesecake
Zodiac sign – Double Leo, baby - rowrrr

I will help Nicole not feel like her efforts were in vain and I too will complete the longest. survey. ever.

Go ahead. Steal it. I dare you.

Man, what a day. I'm sitting here trying to remember all the things I did today and I honestly cannot. I've just done that much stuff - it's all a blur. It could be because I've been on the go since the moment I woke up this morning and am just now getting a minute to sit down and - surprise! - I'm exhausted.

So in my brain, exhausted = I must've done something.

Let's see.. woke up too early because Gypsy was whining in her crate, let her out to get a drink of water (that dog is so freakin' spoiled), put her back in her crate, went back to sleep for another hour, got up for good.

Then... walked the dog, fed the cats, took my pill, got ready for class, made a quick lunch, went to class, spent 3 hours in digital photo class with the professor over my shoulder working on the same stupid little problem in photoshop, realized that all of my photos are too small because I forgot that my camera was on the wrong setting, decided instead to go downtown and reshoot everything, parked at an overpriced meter during rush hour in downtown traffic, tried desperately to avoid a very scary and pushy homeless man that was yelling at everyone to give him a ride two blocks north so that he would no longer be a sinner, succeeded, walked around with my camera, realized the time of day wasn't the same as the first shoot and the light was all wrong now, took the long way home in order to avoid downtown traffic at 5:30, ended up in traffic anyway, got home to find my bedroom pillow and various shoes pulled out into the living room and one very anxious dog looking at me guiltily (as usual), walked the dog, checked email, started laundry, started dishes, waited on J. to get home.

Then after that... fed the dog, greeted J., piled the dog in the car with us, went to Chipotle for dinner, then Petsmart with Gypsy, picked up a new toy for her, finally got her some new tags with the correct phone number on them, picked up food for the cats, came home, said bye to J. as he headed to my mom's farm to check on Buddy, went to Value City to find something to wear to Easter Mass with J. this Sunday, closed, went to Wal-Hell instead, tried on clothes, felt fat and unsatisfied, came home empty-handed, walked dog, fed cats, changed into lounge clothes, filled tub only to realize all the hot water was gone, emptied tub, continued with the laundry, filled tub again, hot water had returned, placed beagle in bathwater, sat for 5 blissful minutes on the edge of the tub with my feet in warm water, my sweats rolled up to my knees, waiting on the flea shampoo to do its work while watching a dripping wet beagle look at me pitifully and tremble as though I was killing her, rinsed beagle, began the after-dogbath ritual of dry-shake-dry-shake-fetchbeagle-dry-shake-dry-shake, followed beagle with fresh towels as she runs like a racehorse through the house while soaking wet, tried desperately to keep her off the bed and couch, succeeded, lured cats out from hiding spots, emptied dishwasher only to load dishwasher again, still trying to finish the damned laundry, grabbed a bottle of water, headed for computer, adjusted the thermostat for the hundredth time in an hour, finally sat down, ended up here, recapped, typed, welcomed J. as he finally made it back from mom's farm, had late-night cereal with J., typed some more, finished. Still sitting.

Um, yeah, that's my day in a nutshell. *sigh* How about yours?

Oooh, a new and different meme! Count me in!

1. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandmother's/father's first name + favorite snack):
Charlie Grilled Cheese

2. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (first word you see on your left + favorite restaurant):
Perfect P.F. Changs

3. YOUR SOCIALITE NAME: (silliest childhood nickname + first town where you partied):
Bud Huntington

4. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial + first three letters of your last name):
Um.. A. Sta? (you're not getting my real name)

5. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite animal + name of high school):
Cheetah Boyd

6. YOUR BARFLY NAME: (last snack food you ate + your favorite drink):
Chex Tea

7. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name + street where you first lived):
Staz Collins (again, not getting the real name - but that's pretty good, yes?)

8. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (favorite candy + favorite musicians last name):
Mars Zeppelin

9. YOUR OPPOSITE SEX NAME: (name of [opposite sex] friend + cell phone company you use):
J. T. Mobile

10. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: ( first 3 letters of your last name+ last 3 letters of mothers middle name /+/ first 3 letters of your pets name + first 3 letters of the town you live in):
Ziaean Gypsou
(heh heh heh, that's my favorite)

Snagged from Laura.

I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt right now, people. Shorts and a freakin' t-shirt. That's how awesome it is outside.

Spring has sprung, baby. Oh hell yes.