Writing without transitions

I feel like blowing bubbles. Bubble gum bubbles. While swinging. That sounds like a perfect way to spend my day.

Instead, I'm here. In a computer lab. Trying (with little luck) to summon enough motivation to finish two lab write-ups and several extra-credit assignments. I should be motivated. But I'm not. At all.

**sigh**

There was a guy who just walked by my wearing a shirt saying "Everyone loves an Italian boy." Is that true? If so, then I'm even odder than I thought. I've never noticed that I have a special penchant for Italian boys. If anything I notice that they (more than the average man) have difficulty in keeping their eyebrows well-groomed. This seems to be a predominantly Italian flaw. Just watch any Lifetime movie with those "handsome" Italian heroes. Seriously. Can a guy be attractive if it looks like he's pasted two caterpillars to his forehead? Perhaps I'm just too picky...

I gave myself a manicure this morning. I actually got up at 6:30 so I could squeeze in this crucial grooming exercise. I was very impressed with my self-discipline. And I was also very thankful that I had because we talked about grooming in psychology class this morning and how it affects how people treat you. Come to think of it, that guy I bumped into this morning was very friendly. Probably all because of my impeccable manicure. Yay for social psychology!

The family called from China. My mom started crying on the phone because she missed me. Or it could have been because Julie just made a horrible mess in her diaper. But Dad cleaned it up, so it couldn't have been that... I also spent several expensive minutes explaining to my sister how to spot a fake Burberry. With any luck I'll wind up with an original.

I eat in computer labs. Does anyone else do this? It's blatantly disobeying the rules, but I continue in the error of my ways. It's one of the few things I'm openly rebellious about. I'm usually a (seemingly) compliant person. But not when it comes to whether or not I can eat my Easy Mac in the lab. Nope. In that area I'm defiant with a vengeance.

Guess what I discovered today? I don't have a crush. Not one. There's not even a list. I've become an emotionless blob in that department. It's quite nice. Very restful.

I also discovered that I hate shorts. With a passion. However, pants are too hot to wear in the summer. So I had a brain wave today- I'll just wear skirts. That's my plan. For the summer. Unless I'm swinging and blowing bubble-gum bubbles. In that situation I shall probably wear shorts....

This is the new little sister! The family picked her up at 3:30 a.m. this morning our time. And yes, I was up and crying and laughing and acting mildly deranged at 3:30 because I just couldn't sleep and I wanted to be there so badly.

Poor little chica looks a little perplexed and scared! But she's so adorable! And here hair has grown. Which is fabulous, because I currently have an assortment of bows that would satisfy any up-and-coming fashionista. (Her closet is also color coded and arranged by style and item. But that's just because I'm going crazy back here alone...)

We have another 12 days and 11 hours until I get to hold her (but who's counting!). I am so overwhelmed at the goodness of God to bring little Julie Ann Blake into our lives.

I'm so happy I think I'm going to cry... gosh, I could so be a Kleenex commercial right now!

Pet Peeves

I've always told myself that I'm not a very nit-picky person. Not at all. But I think that was a clever lie that I repeated to myself when I wanted to seem like a better person.

I'm very nit-picky.

I'm OCD.

I'm perfectionistic.

And I think I need to get over it.

However, until I decide to actually become a better person I've compiled a list of pet peeves. I know, I know, there are so many better things I could have done with my time.

All well!

1. Whining. Arg. Suck it up and deal with it! (Am I whining right now? hmmm...)
2. The lady who was going 78 mph in a 50 mph zone who I "pulled out in front of" (riiiiiight) and then proceeded to lay on her horn for a good 30 seconds. Puh-lease.
3. When car windshield wipers wipe too frequently. Or are left on after the rain stops.
4. Greasy hair.
5. Stonewash jeans- they did NOT look good in the '80s. They look worse now. Stop wearing them.
6. Larger ladies in smaller clothes. Buy your size.
7. When people open things with their mouths. Ew. Saliva. Yuck.
8. Disobedient children in WalMart. If your child can't take "no" without a temper tantrum- don't take them out in public. Ever.
9. People who think that I need a boyfriend. Okay, actually, I usually love all those people, but the thought that I can't REALLY TRULY be happy without a significant other drives me up the freakin' wall!
10. People who make fun of my family. I'm a hater. I know. It's awful. But bad-mouth my family and you're DEAD.
11. Starting notes in one color ink and finishing them in another.
12. Bad handwriting.
13. Even numbers. Or numbers not divisible by 3.
14. Alfredo sauce. Can't stand it. Or fish.
15. Not having pickles for my hamburger. Very devastating.

I'm not really irate or anything... I just needed a break from being grown-up and responsible. I'm learning that grown-ups whine too, but when I'm pretending to be a grown-up I have to rise above such things and pretend to be as perfect as I always thought I'd be.

Well, my grown-up list of house, car, relationship maintenance is calling. **sigh** I had better go.

I also don't like cleaning out the litter box...

My family left for China at 5:30 this morning.

I wanted to go, but I hear they spit in the streets.

I don't like saliva. Or spitting.

So I elected to stay here and look after the cat. And take tests. And be a student. And take out the garbage.

So much better than China, don't you think?

Battered To Dependence

I think I should have had a break-down yesterday.

I didn't.

Probably because I was too exhausted to do much more than lie on the couch and focus on the basic action of breathing.

I thought I was getting better. The doctors thought I was getting better. Then, I miss one pill dosage (because of a crashed computer system at the CVS pharmacy) and I'm completely out. No joke. My 48 year-old mother had to practically carry me in from the car. I'm 21. I should be carrying her.

And as I lay there, it occured to me: I'm going to live my life like this. Granted, days like this will probably (hopefully) be few and far between, I'm very blessed to live in a country with fabulous drugs and doctors, but this is my life. I'm going to be sick. Forever. There's no cure.

At twenty-one I have 15 pills a day I'm taking. Daily activity is often a struggle, and I have to go in for monthly blood work.

I thought I was handling it well. I probably was. While I was in the hospital I was happy. When I spent the week at home, I was getting better. I was polite. Smiley. Said, "Thank you for praying!" a million times each Sunday. And it was all good.

I don't know if it's all good now.

I'm starting to realize that it's never going to go away. I'm always going to have to fight to stay healthy. Heck, I'm going to have days when I'll have to fight to stay upright.

"Over-achiever." Obsessive compulsive. 5-year strategic planner. I've always been in control. I've always been in charge. My life has always been flawlessly organized, planned and mapped out. I make a goal. I achieve the goal. End of story. Dependence on any person or thing has always made me shudder. This has progressed to the point where I'm hopeless at starting (or maintaining) a relationship- with Mary Kay salespersons, bosses, school advisors, not to mention members of the opposite gender. I fly solo. It's safest. Easiest. Maybe lonely- but definitely free of any reliance on anyone else.

But now I can't live like that. At all. Each day I have to get up and say, "Lord, help me make it through." And I have no other option. No other guarantee but that my Heavenly Father loves me. He knows what's best. And He's my only choice. I can't do it on my own.

I feel battered. Bruised. And some mornings I don't want to get out of bed. Some nights I don't want to go to bed because I'm afraid of tomorrow.

I'm not in control.

I have no strength on my own.

And I think that's right where God wants me...

But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.

O my Strength, I sing praise to you; you, O God, are my fortress, my loving God.

(Psalm 59:16,17)

Today, while shaving my legs, I found a previously unseen label on my shaving cream can: "contains no CFCs."

Then in little letters it said: "which destroy the ozone layer."

Let's just say I'm glad that while using my apricot-mango Noxema exfoliating shaving cream I am not destroying the ozone layer.

That's a load off of my mind...

I need to know why I have all of a sudden become addicted to green tea, blogging, and nice jeans.

And I just wrote myself a new schedule.

If I follow it I will be an exemplary person.

I won't follow it.

But the opportunities are endless while it exists.

If I was really me...

I can't help but wonder something...

If I was really, entirely, completely me- would anyone like me?

I'm inclined to think they would not.

That's my general view.

For instance, the real me would say, (when once again politely asked "Anyone special in your life?") "Yes, he's 87 and I'm his playboy bunny. It's really fun. You should try it." And then watch with glee as the sweet, little Baptist lady gaped in horror.

Or, when presented with steamed brocolli I would calmly say, "Brocolli is disgusting." That's all. The real me would never return the cart to the cart rack, or be nice to the too-slow Starbucks lady. The real me would tell the parents of certain first grade Sunday school pupils that their child was a devil incarnate, and that they, themselves should be punished for introducing such a blemish to society. I WOULD dye my hair the punk highlights I've always desired, and I'd get a nose "sparkle." I would clap in church- and I might even say, "Amen" or "Hallelujah." I know. Scary. I would admit my affinity for rap music. And dancing. And then I would GO dancing and maybe even have a margarita. I would. The real me would flirt with the waiter, stay out until 4, and refuse to have another boring summer job in an office. I would occasionally stop studying, go partying, and skip class on Friday. I would intentionally light things on fire, say exactly what I'm thinking, and wear my men's XL sweatpants in public.

Unfortunately, I've had this thing known as an "upbringing." My parents have worked ceaselessly to impress some level of responsibility and decorum. They've succeeded. Although they might often doubt that.

So here I am. I smile at the little old lady and say, "No, no one right now!" I eat the brocolli, return my carts, am nice to the Starbucks lady, and intone the age-old "Johnny was a little excited today but we talked about it" to another parent. The hair is completely preppy, the nose ring a dream, I refrain from emotion at church, and listen to rap occasionally when all alone in my car. I dance only with my hair dryer, drink diet coke, am boringly polite the the waiter, and apply for another office job. I study. I don't party. I always go to my Friday classes. I've never lit anything on fire (intentionally), I censor my speech, and I haven't worn my sweatpants in public. (The drive-thru does not count.)

And I'm "good." Very Baptist. And well-behaved. And I don't mind. I might even like it. My parents should heave a sigh at their success.

But occasionally I wonder what would happen...

Do you think anyone would notice if I got plum highlights?