Sometimes, I will catch myself looking at my phone; calculating the time zone difference between us. It usually happens around four in the morning, which means
that it’s around six where you are. Are you thinking about me?
It started when I got sick for the first time after I moved out, and my friends dragged me along to a sleep over. I really didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go but I went along with it anyways: which meant I slept through the majority of the party. But when four in the morning rolled around, I couldn’t sleep, and when I don’t sleep, I think of you.
I told my friend that I think of you, but she doesn’t support us talking. “Text me when you want to text him! That way we all win!” But the problem starts at four in the morning, when it is three in the morning where my friend lives. I could text her, but I still fear dying, so I wait til’ she wakes up. Too bad that she doesn’t wake up until it’s near noon for me, and I have already been writing you texts messages and deleting them, before I can send, for the last seven hours.
Time zones: They seem to separate me from the people I want to be closest to. I am a step ahead of my home, but two steps behind you, and everyone who is on pace with me is strange and foreign. I guess we can never be at the same place at the same time. Sometimes I think that if we were ever in same room together, space and time would collapse. But know that as much as I fear that moment when we could be together, I imagine that destructive moment to be the most beautiful moment in time. And that moment is usually in my dreams right before I wake up… and I think about you.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Corndogs and Taxidermied Turkeys
Today has been an odd day at most. It all started off when I finished a lab early in my microbiology lab so I went to go chat with the professor about finding a pure culture of a certain bacteria, but on my way over, I confused his office with the wrong floor of the Widstoe. I made my way through the halls, trying to find his office and I pass by the office of a professor who was cooing to his taxidermied turkey. I was shocked and had no clue what to do, so I tried to make it look like I hadn’t seen anything and walked the other way. I can never return to fifth floor of the Wisdtoe ever again because I think he saw me and he might want to introduce me to his stuffed, avian lover.
Later in the day, I was walking over to the JKB for my BoM class which always puts me in a funk, but while I was walking over, I was surrounded by an overwhelming stench of corndogs. I thought that it was probably from some person eating lunch around me so I just kept walking, but the stench seemed to follow. I looked around to see if there was a corndog festival somewhere on campus or something but still nothing. I stopped and then I see a guy who is in my BoM class walking right by me and the pockets on his cargo pants were steaming. What was so hot in his pockets and why is he carrying them in there? He leaned down and pulled out about three corndogs and crammed them into his gullet one by one.
So in class, there was no focusing on what I should be learning like, I don’t know, the gospel? I just watched him, pulling more and more corndogs out of his pockets. I counted 11 before class ended but when we left, I could still see the steaming bulge. I want to know how many corndogs can a Mormon fit in cargo pants. Anybody know the answer?
Later in the day, I was walking over to the JKB for my BoM class which always puts me in a funk, but while I was walking over, I was surrounded by an overwhelming stench of corndogs. I thought that it was probably from some person eating lunch around me so I just kept walking, but the stench seemed to follow. I looked around to see if there was a corndog festival somewhere on campus or something but still nothing. I stopped and then I see a guy who is in my BoM class walking right by me and the pockets on his cargo pants were steaming. What was so hot in his pockets and why is he carrying them in there? He leaned down and pulled out about three corndogs and crammed them into his gullet one by one.
So in class, there was no focusing on what I should be learning like, I don’t know, the gospel? I just watched him, pulling more and more corndogs out of his pockets. I counted 11 before class ended but when we left, I could still see the steaming bulge. I want to know how many corndogs can a Mormon fit in cargo pants. Anybody know the answer?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
My Trichotillamania is Acting Up...
My anxiety is going through the roof right now. I am freaking out a little but because my family is coming up to UT this weekend and are at some point going to look at my apartment to see where I live. When I was growing up and people were coming over, my mother would go into an anxious cleaning frenzy, and I have been in this state for about two weeks now, but my roomie don’t seem to understand why I am so anxious about this whole thing. So my cleaning early has been somewhat in vain because nothing will stay clean for more than a minute.
Being anxious means that I can’t sleep; it just won’t happen (hence why I am writing this blog post now, at like one in the morning). So for the last week, I have been sleep deprived. To go to sleep, I must make a list of what I need to do the next day and this usually keeps me awake till two in the morning. Then I am awoken at four from my roommate tromping about the apartment and I can’t go back to sleep. The effect of sleep deprivation on me is simple: I’m cranky and impatient. So this has been shown with my dealings with others and then I fell like I need to put a facebook status about the whole thing.
So I get a text from my father yesterday after freaking out, because I had my ecclesiastical endorsement interview, and it asked if I was alright because I seem really angry in my facebook updates. I responded that I was ok and I was just anxious. I was confused why he would text me when it is much easier for him to call me and there isn’t part of our communication lost like it is in text, so I called him this morning to talk to him about it. He didn’t see why I had any reason to be anxious, and therefore angry. I tried to explain to him that I was anxious about Mom visiting and seeing the apartment, and anxious because nobody treats me things well (One roomie almost burned a hole through my pot twice in an hour because he left boiling water unattended). And all these little things make me lose all sense of patients with the world and I may appear mean. By the end of our conversation, he was telling me to not be angry but to exact revenge basically against my roomies (by not letting them use my things anymore, and putting their dirty dishes in their beds) but I just think that is worse than what I am doing now. And that will make me the mean roomie, and I don’t want to be stuck with that stigmata. Yada yada yada… my dad told me that this anger is a slippery slope down to hell. I couldn’t talk to him any longer. I didn’t even tell him that I loved him.
Now I am having an anxiety attack over some damn couch. My roomie JL decided to bring in another couch into our apartment so that he could take the nice leather loveseat and move it into his room. I wasn’t down for this at all but when I got home from school today, he was unloading a hideous monster from the back of his jeep. I tried to play everything off with humor, but I let him know that he was not taking the loveseat. So then I became the evil, douche bag roomie. He doesn’t seem to understand why I would be opposed to this whole arrangement, especially because now he was just going to leave all the couches out in the front room. But my issue is that we have no room for any more furniture, especially because our front room has turned into a storage shed for all his shit. He is also leaving at six in the morning for California, so I have to deal with this thing, but there is no place I can put it while my family comes to visit.
Oh dear god this thing is driving me crazy. I want to punch him in the face right now, and I tried to explain to him my issues with it but he doesn’t give a shit. AND ALL MY OTHER ROOMIES DON’T CARE FOR IT EITHER! I’m driving myself insane just thinking about this monstrosity that is lounging about inside of out apartment. I really just want to put it outside, but if I do and it receives any weathering, he will try to make me pay for it. It looks like it is worth 50 bucks but he is trying to say it is worth 1200 bucks. Umm… last time I checked, when you have piss stains on a couch, it depreciates it quite a bit. Oh I am giving myself an ulcer. I fear that it is time for me to see a therapist.
Being anxious means that I can’t sleep; it just won’t happen (hence why I am writing this blog post now, at like one in the morning). So for the last week, I have been sleep deprived. To go to sleep, I must make a list of what I need to do the next day and this usually keeps me awake till two in the morning. Then I am awoken at four from my roommate tromping about the apartment and I can’t go back to sleep. The effect of sleep deprivation on me is simple: I’m cranky and impatient. So this has been shown with my dealings with others and then I fell like I need to put a facebook status about the whole thing.
So I get a text from my father yesterday after freaking out, because I had my ecclesiastical endorsement interview, and it asked if I was alright because I seem really angry in my facebook updates. I responded that I was ok and I was just anxious. I was confused why he would text me when it is much easier for him to call me and there isn’t part of our communication lost like it is in text, so I called him this morning to talk to him about it. He didn’t see why I had any reason to be anxious, and therefore angry. I tried to explain to him that I was anxious about Mom visiting and seeing the apartment, and anxious because nobody treats me things well (One roomie almost burned a hole through my pot twice in an hour because he left boiling water unattended). And all these little things make me lose all sense of patients with the world and I may appear mean. By the end of our conversation, he was telling me to not be angry but to exact revenge basically against my roomies (by not letting them use my things anymore, and putting their dirty dishes in their beds) but I just think that is worse than what I am doing now. And that will make me the mean roomie, and I don’t want to be stuck with that stigmata. Yada yada yada… my dad told me that this anger is a slippery slope down to hell. I couldn’t talk to him any longer. I didn’t even tell him that I loved him.
Now I am having an anxiety attack over some damn couch. My roomie JL decided to bring in another couch into our apartment so that he could take the nice leather loveseat and move it into his room. I wasn’t down for this at all but when I got home from school today, he was unloading a hideous monster from the back of his jeep. I tried to play everything off with humor, but I let him know that he was not taking the loveseat. So then I became the evil, douche bag roomie. He doesn’t seem to understand why I would be opposed to this whole arrangement, especially because now he was just going to leave all the couches out in the front room. But my issue is that we have no room for any more furniture, especially because our front room has turned into a storage shed for all his shit. He is also leaving at six in the morning for California, so I have to deal with this thing, but there is no place I can put it while my family comes to visit.
Oh dear god this thing is driving me crazy. I want to punch him in the face right now, and I tried to explain to him my issues with it but he doesn’t give a shit. AND ALL MY OTHER ROOMIES DON’T CARE FOR IT EITHER! I’m driving myself insane just thinking about this monstrosity that is lounging about inside of out apartment. I really just want to put it outside, but if I do and it receives any weathering, he will try to make me pay for it. It looks like it is worth 50 bucks but he is trying to say it is worth 1200 bucks. Umm… last time I checked, when you have piss stains on a couch, it depreciates it quite a bit. Oh I am giving myself an ulcer. I fear that it is time for me to see a therapist.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Napoleonic Complex
I came to the library today and looked around for a computer for about five minutes to no avail, so I sat down to wait for one to open up. Finally, some guy gets up and I make my way toward the computer, but I see another guy rushing across the room to get it. My long legs won in the race: no contest. But the guy then decided to make a scene.
“Are you serious? There is a line back there! I get this computer.”
“Well I have been waiting over there.” I gave him the shoo sign and took my spot. He stormed away like a toddler. All the people sitting around me were really confused at his immaturity and then we had a bit of a laugh about it. It just makes me laugh when people think they can intimidate me, especially when they are a foot shorter than me. I guess that is what happens when one has a Napoleonic complex but really? Learn when to cut your loses.
“Are you serious? There is a line back there! I get this computer.”
“Well I have been waiting over there.” I gave him the shoo sign and took my spot. He stormed away like a toddler. All the people sitting around me were really confused at his immaturity and then we had a bit of a laugh about it. It just makes me laugh when people think they can intimidate me, especially when they are a foot shorter than me. I guess that is what happens when one has a Napoleonic complex but really? Learn when to cut your loses.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Calmed
It has taken me a few days to finally calm down from this weekend. It’s strange that I go through these moods where I am just frustrated at everything, and so sometimes my hypochondria makes me think that I am bi-polar but I’m not even going to try to entertain that idea at the moment. So today, to calm down, I poured back mugs of hot cocoa and blasted some Amy Winehouse till’ she could empty me of my emotions. I kinda just zoned out at my table, played around with my mug and the ring left from vigorous stirring (maybe I have Parkinson’s disease).
So Saturday I beat up my roomie. Yeah. He jumped out from behind a door at me and next thing I know, he sprawled out on the floor of our bathroom. So I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, conversed with my other roomies and their dates that witnessed the whole thing and then went back to a party. I felt bad afterward when I found out that I transformed the carribeaner on my keys as brass knuckles and somehow cut him really bad.
Sunday, I was awoken by my home teachers at like10, and we don’t have church until 1, so I wasn’t the happiest, and then to top it off, their lesson was on patriarchal blessings. I don’t have one and they found this out and immediately tried to convince me to go get one ASAP, but the problem is that I have an irrational fear of patriarchal blessings because I always think I will be found out as the anti-Christ. I realize that I am not, but I had a dream as a kid and now I won’t go anywhere near a patriarch. So my home teachers laughed for a good five minutes and then giggled through the rest of the lesson at the impasse that I am at. And then at church, everybody kept asking me if I was fine, so that means I was looking booty.
And the today, I raised hell at the Sprint store and the financial aid office on campus. My vibrate on my phone stopped working on Saturday so I brought it in today to get it fixed. I got some feeling to take a picture of the watermark on my battery to show that I didn’t have any water damage and so I did. So I took my phone in and they sent it back to the repair shop, and in five minutes I was called back to be told that my phone has water damage so I wouldn’t still be under warranty. They showed me the battery and the sensor had been tripped. Thank god I had a picture of the battery with the sensor still armed, so I basically demanded a brand new version of my phone and got a few extra goodies along with it (but now I wish I demanded the new lotus for restitution). Financial aid has been a pain in my butt for months now, and three weeks ago I was told I would receive my financial aid for last year and so I have been waiting for the check for a while now (to no avail). So I went in today and found out that there was an error on my account. This was the third error I have had in a month and basically if I don’t collect my money before March 1st, I lose it all. So I started out on the main floor talking to a simple employee all the way up to the head honcho of the place. My mantra turned into, “Give me my money.” And they tried to avoid it at all costs, but I think I have succeeded.
Now I am just sitting at the table, sipping at my hot chocolate, and letting all my stress go. I don’t know how many times I have fingered the rim of my mug but it has turned into the most therapeutic thing since… well therapy. Imagine all the money my family could have saved if they just gave me a mug instead of six months of intense therapy.
So Saturday I beat up my roomie. Yeah. He jumped out from behind a door at me and next thing I know, he sprawled out on the floor of our bathroom. So I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, conversed with my other roomies and their dates that witnessed the whole thing and then went back to a party. I felt bad afterward when I found out that I transformed the carribeaner on my keys as brass knuckles and somehow cut him really bad.
Sunday, I was awoken by my home teachers at like10, and we don’t have church until 1, so I wasn’t the happiest, and then to top it off, their lesson was on patriarchal blessings. I don’t have one and they found this out and immediately tried to convince me to go get one ASAP, but the problem is that I have an irrational fear of patriarchal blessings because I always think I will be found out as the anti-Christ. I realize that I am not, but I had a dream as a kid and now I won’t go anywhere near a patriarch. So my home teachers laughed for a good five minutes and then giggled through the rest of the lesson at the impasse that I am at. And then at church, everybody kept asking me if I was fine, so that means I was looking booty.
And the today, I raised hell at the Sprint store and the financial aid office on campus. My vibrate on my phone stopped working on Saturday so I brought it in today to get it fixed. I got some feeling to take a picture of the watermark on my battery to show that I didn’t have any water damage and so I did. So I took my phone in and they sent it back to the repair shop, and in five minutes I was called back to be told that my phone has water damage so I wouldn’t still be under warranty. They showed me the battery and the sensor had been tripped. Thank god I had a picture of the battery with the sensor still armed, so I basically demanded a brand new version of my phone and got a few extra goodies along with it (but now I wish I demanded the new lotus for restitution). Financial aid has been a pain in my butt for months now, and three weeks ago I was told I would receive my financial aid for last year and so I have been waiting for the check for a while now (to no avail). So I went in today and found out that there was an error on my account. This was the third error I have had in a month and basically if I don’t collect my money before March 1st, I lose it all. So I started out on the main floor talking to a simple employee all the way up to the head honcho of the place. My mantra turned into, “Give me my money.” And they tried to avoid it at all costs, but I think I have succeeded.
Now I am just sitting at the table, sipping at my hot chocolate, and letting all my stress go. I don’t know how many times I have fingered the rim of my mug but it has turned into the most therapeutic thing since… well therapy. Imagine all the money my family could have saved if they just gave me a mug instead of six months of intense therapy.
Friday, February 5, 2010
BYU Gatekeepers are Douche bags!
Today, I had a run in with the BYU gatekeepers and now I want to hit them all with a semi. Really, I want to know how being a gatekeeper to BYU makes your ego explode into making you think you are some freaking cop. Gahhh. And I was just trying to be a good roommate.
So my roomie RJ has a broken foot, so I pick him up from school because he can’t gimp all the way home. So I go to pick him up today, and took campus drive. Those who aren’t familiar with BYU layout, there is a street that runs through campus called campus drive, and at the two ends of the street are gatekeepers. So I go to pick RJ up and the guy asked me for a disability placard, but RJ doesn’t have any because he doesn’t have a card. So the guy tells me to give him my ID card and just pick it up on my way back.
I drive through and the parking lot where RJ was waiting has the entrance behind the gate and the exit on the other side. So to my dismay, I had to explain to the other gate keeper why I needed to go back through.
“Do you have a disability placard?”
“No, I don’t. The other guy took my student ID instead, and so I need to go back through to get my ID.”
He calls up the other guy and asks if he took my ID, and I clearly heard the other guy say, “Yes.”
“You are going to have to go around another way because you don’t have an ID card.”
Really? No shit Sherlock. So I am pissed off because the way around takes like twenty minutes. I give the guy my wow-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me face, roll up my window, drive away and call him a douchebag. I cursed all the way to the other gate and I pull up to get my ID card. I just stuck my hand out of the window to get my ID and the guy won’t give it to me.
“I just got a report that you were cussing at the other guard, called him a douche bag, and gave him attitude.”
“Umm… No I didn’t. Just give me my ID.”
Then he gave me this whole spiel about how he is an authority figure and it was a privilege that I was allowed to go back on campus drive. I was pissed. My foot started tapping, and I was just thinking, “Who the hell do you think you are? You are a gatekeeper. Like dude, put your dick away, seriously.” I got my ID back but was totally frustrated during the molecular bio test that I had to take right after… Man am I steamed.
So my roomie RJ has a broken foot, so I pick him up from school because he can’t gimp all the way home. So I go to pick him up today, and took campus drive. Those who aren’t familiar with BYU layout, there is a street that runs through campus called campus drive, and at the two ends of the street are gatekeepers. So I go to pick RJ up and the guy asked me for a disability placard, but RJ doesn’t have any because he doesn’t have a card. So the guy tells me to give him my ID card and just pick it up on my way back.
I drive through and the parking lot where RJ was waiting has the entrance behind the gate and the exit on the other side. So to my dismay, I had to explain to the other gate keeper why I needed to go back through.
“Do you have a disability placard?”
“No, I don’t. The other guy took my student ID instead, and so I need to go back through to get my ID.”
He calls up the other guy and asks if he took my ID, and I clearly heard the other guy say, “Yes.”
“You are going to have to go around another way because you don’t have an ID card.”
Really? No shit Sherlock. So I am pissed off because the way around takes like twenty minutes. I give the guy my wow-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me face, roll up my window, drive away and call him a douchebag. I cursed all the way to the other gate and I pull up to get my ID card. I just stuck my hand out of the window to get my ID and the guy won’t give it to me.
“I just got a report that you were cussing at the other guard, called him a douche bag, and gave him attitude.”
“Umm… No I didn’t. Just give me my ID.”
Then he gave me this whole spiel about how he is an authority figure and it was a privilege that I was allowed to go back on campus drive. I was pissed. My foot started tapping, and I was just thinking, “Who the hell do you think you are? You are a gatekeeper. Like dude, put your dick away, seriously.” I got my ID back but was totally frustrated during the molecular bio test that I had to take right after… Man am I steamed.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The battle has begun…
I have started this battle between DP and me, and I am so happy this thing is going on. So last night, he wanted to sing songs from Joseph and the Technicolor Dream coat, so I battled with Lady Gaga… After a while he was getting steamed because “LADY GA-GA is not REAL music!” I just kept playing it from my bedroom, and he just couldn’t leave it alone. He would keep poking his head around the corner to tell me why she isn’t good but I was just reading and not paying attention to him. The more I ignored him, the louder he got, and he is loud to begin with. So he then started screaming to have me turn the music down and listen to him. So I lowered my book barely enough for my eyes to meet his and said, “OH DP, don’t get your sacred panties in a bunch.” I brought the book back up and didn’t say a word more. He started freaking out.
On another note, my roomie with whom I actually share a room with, his fiancé has left for a track meet and asked me to give James a present for her, so I woke up early to receive the gift for him while he was at work. When she came, I was confused because she was holding nothing but a nasty, dingy pillow in her arms. “Will you give this to JM, it’s an inside joke.” I knew exactly what that pillow was for. It was meant for him to sniff while she was away. I think of all the bacteria that are being harbored in that pillow and it gives me a bit of a chill but JM practically has sex with the thing. It never leaves his side and he just smells it all day long. So most of his days are just spent, sitting on “The rameumtum” smelling his pillow.
So what should I do next to DP? I need some advice on how to break an uber Mormon… any suggestions?
On another note, my roomie with whom I actually share a room with, his fiancé has left for a track meet and asked me to give James a present for her, so I woke up early to receive the gift for him while he was at work. When she came, I was confused because she was holding nothing but a nasty, dingy pillow in her arms. “Will you give this to JM, it’s an inside joke.” I knew exactly what that pillow was for. It was meant for him to sniff while she was away. I think of all the bacteria that are being harbored in that pillow and it gives me a bit of a chill but JM practically has sex with the thing. It never leaves his side and he just smells it all day long. So most of his days are just spent, sitting on “The rameumtum” smelling his pillow.
So what should I do next to DP? I need some advice on how to break an uber Mormon… any suggestions?
