It's official, I'm quitting OC in the near future to begin an illustrious stint as a Lia Sophia jewelry rep. I don't belong in a job so feminine, but I'm doing it regardless. So hush, you.

Also, I made a t-shirt. You should buy one.
http://www.zazzle.com/have_you_hugged_an_alaskan_today_tshirt-235810602775982946

edit: here's one for the dudes-
http://www.zazzle.com/have_you_hugged_an_alaskan_today_tshirt-235065819251748071

I've decided to start documenting my life. Preferably in a manner that would make it seem more engaging and eventful than it really is. (This leads me to wonder whether my life really is as boring as I think it is, or if it's actually pretty interesting, and I've just become desensitized to it. But that's a big ol' existential train of thought for later documentation...)
Who knows, maybe I'll actually be able to finagle something readable and marginally better than The Dive from Clausen's Pier onto paper. Terrible book. Don't read it. The only redeeming characters were on the periphery, and they were quickly written out in favor of selfish, predictable characters.
It's just been decided. I'm turning this into a rant against the only piece of "literature" ("" because I don't fully believe it deserves to be called literature) that I have ever actively destroyed. I don't remember who wrote it, and frankly I don't care enough to look her up.
Here's a quick summary:
-Girl falls out of love with fiance.
-Fiance becomes paralyzed after jumping off of Clausen's Pier.
-Girl can't handle paralyzed fiance.
-Girl runs away to New York without warning.
-Girl moves into nook of stranger's house.
-Girl meets inappropriately-aged new boyfriend.
-Girl falls in love with new guy.
-New guy isn't what girl expected.
-Girl goes home for an emergency visit.
-Girl decides to stay home in order to take care of paralyzed ex-fiance, thus bailing on New Guy and the few New York friends (including the aforementioned quality characters) she's made.
Sorry if you like it, but I thought it was painfully contrived and had zero variation in sentence structure. This was the first book I finished purely out of spite; I couldn't let it beat me.
I burned it in the fireplace on Christmas.

"Hmm, interesting..." muses Freud

I’ve always considered myself to have the soul of a writer. Now, before we get off on the wrong foot, I need you to know that I’m not delusional in the slightest regarding my actual ability to write. Simply having the soul of a writer does not necessarily translate to having the know-how to relay thoughts, glimpses of one’s own reality, into the written word. What I think is beautifully poignant with just the right dash of wit may be clunky and dull to someone else. What I think is an impossibly nebulous paragraph of drivel may flow seamlessly and with perfect relevancy for another reader. My point: in the world of words, it’s all about perspective. It’s a constant battle, with everyone climbing to the top of an imaginary peak (with no less casualties than the very tangible Everest, mind you) to be the first to reach the flag. It’s the most impossible game of capture the flag ever (that’s where I was going with the mountain reference; stick around, I have more convoluted metaphors where that came from); no one is on the same team, no one is looking out for anyone else’s back. Everyone seems to have a strategy, while I’m still in the corner of the field trying to figure out how to lace up my sneakers. Safe in my own little bubble I can judge others’ works, without having to deal with the sting of any reciprocated judgment. If I never put my stuff out there, I can go on believing my words are worth something because no one can tell me they’re not.

Facebook has the flu.

There's an epidemic sweeping the Facebook world. It's called "25 Random Things" and has caused 98.7% of users (don't question my statistics) to reveal 25 things about themselves in the form of a note. I was lucky enough to receive the vaccine in time, and have launched a counter-offensive. Enjoy, and for the love of God, protect yourselves!

"So... I'm bored with reading the "25 Things about Me" lists, and have decided instead to tell you 25 (or however many I get to before becoming irreparably distracted) things that are not true about me. Here we go:

1) I'm graceful. My balance is impeccable and not once have I fallen up the stairs. My brother does it all the time, and I'm able to laugh at him because I know that due to my superior coordination, he will never be able to laugh at me about the same thing.

2) I get over things quickly. I don't wallow or dissect every minute thing that I could have done differently in order to make something turn out better like some people do. I don't understand why people can't let things go. What's happened has happened, get over it.

3) I'm a math whiz. No seriously, I kick arithmetic's ass.

4) I am an amazing singer, and am not tone deaf in the least. When I was in band in high school, I could tell, without fail, whether my horn was playing sharp or flat. Now I love singing in front of people, especially at work.

5) I don't have a personal bubble. I know most people don't like other people to get too close, but I'm totally cool with it and being in close proximity to other people doesn't make me uncomfortable. For this reason, I love huge house parties. They're such great ways to meet new people!

6) I got a tattoo because I thought it would be a good conversation starter. It doesn't really mean anything, I just made something up after I got it so that I could legitimize it in conversations.

7) I don't like animals. They're gross and just get in the way. I don't understand how people can have pets because they cost so much money and require so much time to take care of. I think it's especially annoying when people whose pets die get upset about it. I mean, it's just an animal. Buy a new one.

8) My lack of self confidence is a complete charade. I pretend to be self-conscious so that people will feel sorry for me. It's a way of trolling for compliments, really.

9) I have the most boring dreams. I hear people talking about their exciting dreams all the time and I get so jealous! My dreams are always so mundane; nothing that couldn't happen in real life ever happens in them. I never have cool, fantastical dreams where a unicorn suddenly turns into my cousin and gives me an epic mission to travel across Bubble Land to save Princess Gaseous. I wish I would. Just once.

10) I love it when people read and critique my writing. Written words are really impersonal, and having people tell me how to change my writing to make it better is great. When I got a B- on a paper in my English class, I read over the professor's every comment, making sure I committed every correction to memory.

11) I hate road trips. Spending that much time in a car is horribly boring. I'd rather just fly to wherever I'm going and avoid all the hassle of having to find rest stops because the co-pilot downed 3 gallons of 7up slushy. People rant and rave about how great the scenery is, and that it's amazing to be able to see so much of the country up close and personal, but I love flying and airports, and would take a plane over a car any day.

12) I cut my hair off short because I want to stand out and have everybody look at me. I love being the center of attention, and I think that having short hair really helps with that. I'm not surprised or taken-aback when people compliment me, in fact I get kind of offended when people don't notice my awesome hair.

13) I'm really girlie. Growing up, most of my friends were girls and they were all jealous of my doll collection. My brother had a lot of cars and LEGOS, but I would never play Car City with him or help him with his Technics. I used to hate it when Mike's friends came over because they were all guys, and I've always felt more awkward around guys than girls. It's a lot easier for me to be friends with girls than it is guys, and I think that has a lot to do with the fact that while my brother was always playing outside, I would be inside with my dolls and tea set.

14) My brother and I don't get along very well. I'm really jealous of the relationships my friends have with their siblings, because Mike and I just can't seem to connect. We never played together when we were little, and now I think that as we're turning into adults, that's taken a huge toll on our relationship. I don't feel like I can tell him anything, and he doesn't trust me with any of his secrets. I just wish we could find some common ground.

15) I tell people that I love to read books, but really that's just a line I use to make people think that I'm more cultured. I think reading's boring, and I'd much rather watch a movie based on a book that read the book itself. I have the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe on my shelf because I think it would impress someone who saw it, but I've never actually read any of the works in it and I don't intend to.

16) I hate camping and not being able to shower for days on end; give me a hotel and heated pool any day. I'm so glad that my parents finally bought an RV, because it makes camping bearable! When I was little we did a lot of backpacking and camping, but I always hated it. I just don't understand the appeal of wandering out into the middle of nowhere to live campfire-style without running water.

17) I don't care what people think about me.

18) That guy? The one I helped pack up for college the day he left? I don't think about him every day.

19) I make a point of telling people where I'm from because I think they'll think I'm cooler if they hear where I was born. If someone asks where I'm from, I tell them I'm from Alaska, not Anchorage, because if I tell them I'm from Anchorage they might not get right away what state I'm from. I want people to know that, and I try to work it into all my conversations with new people I meet; I don't give my friends an opportunity to say it for me.



I'm done. 19 is all I can come up with."

It was almost poetic, the way it ended.
I was walking home from my last class of the day, a backpack's worth of knowledge bearing down on my shoulders. The sun was out, the temperature was perfect for a sweatshirt. I was plugged into my iPod, tuned out from the rest of the world. By the luck of the draw, I was getting nothing but quality tracks popping up in my earbuds. I walked down the hill, past the underage-drinker-magnet bar, past the pumpkin frozen mid-rot since October, past the beerman unloading his wares into the other underage-drinker-magnet bar. Engrossed in my own thoughts and world, I turned the corner onto my street. Mid-chorus, I hit the bricks. My world went silent, but the song lived on.




How it really happened:
I leaped out of the way of the car just in time to see the driver mutedly shrieking at me as she skidded through the crosswalk and on to Jazzercise.
I hope she spilled her latte.