What I Live For: The Outlandish Conversations

A lot of unconventional topics usually come up in the conversations I have with people. One of my favorite things to talk about are the things that people usually find uncomfortable to talk about because it's not "normal" talk. Those who don't speak the unspoken are unquestionably missing out. I've compiled some otherwise unexpressed material that I spend most of my time thinking about - and shamelessly doing. Without further ado, the following are the most compelling topics of conversation I've discussed:

(Warning: I like to come up with names for the shit I do. I have also provided a gif for each topic.)


1. Nude Patrolling: walking around your habitat naked (or close to it), while there is looming a threat of someone walking in on you. It's almost like I live for the thrill of it. Your body is your sacred and secret temple. The thought of someone walking in on me naked scares the shit out of me, but I think that's why I do it. If this lucky intruder is someone I don't really know or care about, then even better. I'm not just breaking the ice; I'm melting the fucking glaciers with that encounter.

2. Midnight Snacking and the inevitable self-loathing to follow. I am the most guilty person of this act. Snacking the way I do is almost like self-betrayal, but the regret doesn't come until about 30 minutes after I've eaten. I could eat half a pizza a night. I don't. But I am fully capable. I could declare myself a shnafter (hybrid of the words "shifty" and "snacker") for how I go about obtaining food and how often I commit body treason. I also have an amazing shnafter radar. I can tell who midnight snacks and who doesn't - without solely considering demographic, though most have kankles or a wicked ass. (Now, I am unable to disclose which one of those I categorize myself as, but I can say that it's the better-sounding one of the two). How I can really tell is by how lethargic a person is by 3:30 PM. Those who midnight snack think a lot about what they eat during the day. Most eat 2 meals and then say to themselves, "Well, I've only eaten two meals today, I have wiggle room", and then proceed to eat a three-course "snack". I sincerely consider myself a gremlin-type species, I shouldn't eat after midnight. However, when I do, I turn into a hideous reptilian version of myself that, in order to cease my gluttony, must be slammed in a microwaved and blown up.

3. Toilet mayhem. No toilet paper and the makeshift wipes. Foreign toilet seats and the fear of STD's on them. -That's about as far as that conversation will go with acquaintances. You could talk about this toilet stuff all day with your real friends.

4. Punching vending machines. This is something everyone totally regrets doing afterward. If someone sees you, they're telling their friends later. (Usually, in the case that you're in the presence of another, you punch embarrassingly pathetically on purpose because you just want to look frustrated, not crazy, but you just end up looking like a crazy weak person). If you're alone, you might end up breaking the vending machine because you're really hungry and you just wasted $1.25. Also you feel like a bad ass and kind of hope some hot person walks into the room while you're doing it and acts mildly impressed. You just want to feel like Bender from The Breakfast Club when you hit a machine, not like a 90's teenage boy with a middle part.

5. Stepping over boundaries on accident and pretending you meant to get there. I always say something about appearance or personal traits that the person I'm speaking to has. I always end up admitting I didn't mean to and apologize. Or I never talk to them again. Ex: You make a joke about chlamydia and that person has it. Bad example. But everyone can relate to this topic.

Oh. God.

6. The subconscious "hope" no one talks about whenever you cross the street that a car will hit you, but you really actually hope you don't get hit. This might sound really strange, but everyone that I've talked to about this one feels the same way. Crossing the street is a big risk, and for some reason, we're all waiting for something to go wrong with it.

(Don't Google "hit by a car".....you can't unsee anything)

7. Writing on someone else' dry erase board. Here at Central, there are a lot of dry-erase boards on the outside of dorm doors. What's really dumb about this is that negligent people leave the marker out with it. The owner of the board usually writes something cute or inspirational on it, but all it takes is a word swap to ruin a quote. Ex: "Just keep swimming :)" >> "Just butt swimming :)". I've also heard and seen some great thing people write on these things. I do this a more than I should, and I've been lucky; no one's opened their door on me yet.

8. Using effect/affect in a paper. Here is the truth about this: no one really knows the difference - not even my English teachers here in college could tell you which one to use. All I know is that E-ffect has been right for me every time. So just choose effect every time, you're really running a lower risk. (But honestly, affect is a verb and effect is a noun).

9. Following someone you think you may know. It takes a lot to keep up, but also stay a safe distance in case you're wrong. Trying to identify someone by the back of their head, their butt, and the way they walk is near impossible. Once you have no idea, you sort of pass them. Maybe they'll recognize you instead.

10. Laundry: On thin ice. Two pairs of panties. One pair of only slightly-worn jeans. One shirt. Two bucks to wash the approximately four loads of laundry you have to do. Impossible? I've seen (done) worse!! Every college person who tells you they haven't at one time or another washed pits or undies in the sink is lying, because all of us spend tons of money on useless things and leave little to no cash for laundry.

 

11. Knowing the same song as someone else, but only vaguely. You've heard it 2 or 3 times and your friend is trying to get you to sing it with them. At some point you'll have to stop and say you have no fucking idea what this is, or you keep going and they'll remember you mouthing incorrect lyrics as they're laying down for bed. And they'll laugh. Or cringe. Depending on how ridiculousness of your enthusiasm to mask your lack of knowledge.

12. Play Date Panic. You'll be spending the night at someone's dorm or apartment. What do you bring and how will you avoid greasy hair? HA. You WON'T.

13. Can't Comeback At Ya. Yelling at something that can't yell back. Usually these are inanimate objects. Sometimes their pets. Public-display-okay? Or not? Though I have talked to a lot of people about this topic, there are still mixed reviews. To be determined.

 

14. Leaving your clothes in the bathroom. Sara knows how many days you've worn that bra this week, now. But you won't lead anyone on to your bi-weekly bra schedule. Some people think this is really gross. I personally think it's disgusting, but I am so guilty of this I can't even say anything about it. I feel gross looking at my own clothes. When it's someone else' though, the alien panties make me uncomfortable, and then I get to wondering how long they were worn and if they have diseases in them and how do I avoid stepping on them when entering and exiting the bathroom.

 

15. Febrezing clothes will never equal washing them. Even though the commercials tell you it's like that because they "wash" mattresses with Febreeze, your stinky jeans will retain freshness until you sit down again, and you end up forbidding yourself to stand up until anyone near you has left. Just wash your clothes. I know it sucks 'cause you have to actually do something and pay attention so no one else gets mad at you and steals your clothes, but just do it. You'll thank yourself.

16. Letting someone use your computer. There are SO MANY things to be afraid of when you're letting someone borrow your computer. Old weird or ugly selfies that you keep "just in case". Some guilty pleasure songs that are considered bad by the majority. Facebook stalking revealed if you forgot to close the browser or log out. The fact that you play the Sims - revealed. Torrented bad movies just because they were romantic comedies and you were feeling kind of lonely. Some word documents you wrote to your friends when you were upset. That one time you looked up porn because you were curious about the hype - but you swear you just skimmed through it! Too many risks are involved in sharing electronic devices, so I just tell people my computer is a piece of shit, or it's just broken altogether. I've also heard a lot of break-up stories involved with finding weird things on computers - so I just avoid it (relationships and computers - no heartbreaks, no danger of embarrassment).

 

So next time you're given the opportunity, make a conversation worth it.

Something that I've never done before:

HOLD A POISONOUS ANIMAL

One last though to entertain:

    Some people have a condition where their ears are the same size as their hands. It's called audiphelangioplasia. That's bull shit. I just made that up, there is no such thing as that. It's kind of fun to come up with improbable human conditions. Like hand feet or gills.

Night.

Why I'm Going to Hell (Maybe)

There are some really stupid things that you witness or do which will haunt you for the rest of your life.

Story time......
I remember the crumb-ridden front seat of my mother's blue Windstar. It was a huge piece of shit that Ford came out with in the 90's and we were so lucky to have unknowingly been burdened with its malfunctions. I was seven years old on my way to school, picking around in my pockets and fidgeting like I always did. I found a rubber band. Tangling it within my hands, I watched my stubby fingers turn a greyish purple. My mother saw and made me stop immediately, lecturing me on how that could "make my fingers fall off". She scared me into a momentary yield, but when she dropped me off I continued to play with it in my pocket.

One of my friends, Mac, asked if he could have the rubber band, and I had the obvious response for a second grader: I stuffed it in my mouth and shook my head teasingly. 7-year-olds don't easily become uninterested in weird things like this, so he began to threaten to take it out of my mouth. Then Zach raised his hand. All eyes warily turned to his attention. Oh shit.

Zach was the biggest tattle-tale of all time, and everyone in the class knew it. What had we done to deserve such an inhumane punishment as to be tattled on?? Zach had no mercy.

"Yes Zach?", wondered Mrs. Schultz.

"Em has something in her mouth and won't let us see it!", Zach replied. As if. I would never even consider showing the enemy my pocket prize!

"Emily, please come here. Spit it into my hand", demanded Mrs. Schultz.

Ew. I instead walked over to the garbage and released the rubber band into a pencil shaving abyss.

"Now tell me what it was".

I couldn't tell her it was just a regular rubber band. Then I'd have to explain what I was doing and where I found it and that was just a lot of work. I also didn't want her telling my dad, who was also a teacher in the same school district. "Rubber braces", left my mouth as soon as it entered my head.

Mrs. Schultz frantically dug through the garbage to retrieve the "rubber braces", washed it off in the sink, and apologetically handed it back to me. I felt so bad for her - somewhat because I made her go through all this trouble so I wouldn't be embarrassed, but mostly because she believed one of the most absurd lies I've ever fabricated - and I should be listed under the top 5 worst liars ever. (That's why I don't lie anymore. It's like if you're naturally bad at basketball or math, you should give up once you've figured it out that even practicing doesn't help. Yes, I am also bad at both of those activities).

I took the rubber band and put it in my mouth when I was in front of her; but when I sat down, I spat it out into my hand and put it back in my pocket. I thought from that day, forward, that I was surely going to hell. Satan was marking my very cell with Roman numerals as I regretfully sat across from an astonished and infuriated Zach. I had beat him, but at a cost to my eternal afterlife.

I could no longer dream about being the leader of the free world. I had given up the life of ice cream and horse-sized dogs to lead my chariot across the capital grounds. I had a tremendous misunderstanding of what being a president entailed.

This is the hugest, most horrible thing that I'll take to the grave with me, which I personally know is ridiculous.


Another thing that might haunt me for a bit:
      Today, I was exiting a building that usually has issues with it's doors on windy days. It was especially windy today and the door wasn't closing behind me, so I tried shutting it, but it seemed to push back. I looked through the glass to see if the rug was caught or something. There was a man trying to get out of this building. This poor guy was so incredibly confused, that he walked away from the door and waited for me to leave. I wanted to apologize, but then I'd have to explain this really stupid habit of the doors not closing that he wouldn't understand and I'd just seem crazy. So I went along with it and ran away from the door as fast as I could and into another building. I waited and watched until the man successfully exit the building and enter a different one. I went back outside and continued my venture back to the dorms where I hate-watched YouTube vids of bad Pearl Jam covers and ate a really bad sandwich.


On a completely different note: This has really been bothering me lately (I'm about to complain a little). There are some topics that are okay to discuss in small-group conversations, but shouldn't be taken to global levels or even internet levels.

1. Abortion - it's the patient's decision, other people shouldn't get involved in it and there is always more to their story than face-value. So just leave people alone about it. Women deserve their rights. I see crazed Christians and Republicans on my Facebook feed condemning the women who go through with the procedure. There are petitions. WHAT! STOP! It's no one else' business but the patient and the doctor. Jeebuz, stop making it your problem. And your own vision of God isn't everyone else' so stop telling people "it's all in the Bible". 'Cause we know it, you've reminded all of us on a fucking daily basis. That's my piece on that. I don't really care if anyone agrees with me or not, and I know no one really comments on these, but if you have something to say, don't, because I avoid conflict so I'm not going to respond or care. This is all just my opinion and I'm not going to force it onto anyone else, which is how everyone should be acting about it. (Really it's like a group of people who's favorite color is yellow and they're screaming at everyone who likes blue or green or red better).

2. Religion - ugh........ I don't even know where to start on this. I was raised a Catholic; however, I have my own beliefs. I feel like a lot of people are this way nowadays. Just figure out something you can find comfort in and don't tell other people that they're wrong about it.

3. Politics - I get really mad at people who don't know what they're talking about so I just try avoid this conversation altogether. EXCEPT GAY ISSUES - NEVER STOP TELLING HOMOPHOBES THEY SUCK, BECAUSE EVERYONE DESERVES ALL BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS!!!

4. Country/Pop Music - stop telling people how you think Katy Perry is really on top of her game lately. These are all computer-generated shit genres, filled with artificially beautiful faces and boobies and booties. There are so many other artists that actually deserve the adjective "fierce" in the same sentence as their names. ex: Matt Corby, Cherub, Future of Forestry.

5. Your Herpes - the other day I was on Twitter, and there were at least four posts on CMU Confessions about how "some dick" or "some bitch" at a party gave them herpes and neglected to inform them beforehand. No one with herpes is going to tell you to your face that they have herpes when they're intoxicated and 20 min away from banging you. Also, I don't know if you should be going to drunken parties if you have herpes; you're much more prone to "spreading your wealth" (or misfortune). Herpes is like a love for Leonardo DiCaprio: it's for life.

I'm done now.

Also: I answered my own question last night as to whether or not I have roommates. One of them was getting laid! Loudly. Very, very, loudly.

 Main point of all of this: you will definitely make stupid mistakes that will have you laughing when you're dying. Maybe you'll laugh to death. What a lovely thought to possess. (The complaining part was strictly venting).

 Something that I've never done before:

GET A WEIRD PIERCING (LIKE ON A BUTT CHEEK OR FINGERNAIL)

One last thought to entertain:

      What would you get on your tombstone? It's kind of a morbid thought, but, like, you're gonna have it 6 feet above you for all eternity, so why not make it personal. Although, I guess you really couldn't care after you're dead. I want someone to put a fake cause of death on mine. Something like, "It was one cheesy gordita crunch too many", or "Bare-handed bear hunting is what did her in". Very blunt, but original and funny. I don't want my friends and family to be sad if I die. I want them to be happy. But not the kind of happy people were when Stalin died. Like, the kind of happy people were when they celebrated the life of Nelson Mandela... or Julia Child. I really think I might ask for the bear hunting quote on my tombstone.

Night.

Roommates

The other day, someone asked me if I went to "this school". Not only do I attend the same university as this particular person, but we have been living on the same floor for a little over a semester, I see him in the elevator at least twice a week, and we take almost the same route for one class (I walk about 30-50 paces behind to avoid awkward glances or conversation).

I am an introvert, yes. But he is a rare type of human being whom I would categorize as "thoroughly futile".

I think my roommates and I are of the same species. There is this atmosphere of an unspoken mutual agreement that we couldn't give less of a shit about each others' lives. We just respect one anothers' hermit lifestyle and right to spend an entire weekend with our torrented files and cereal. Or that's only me and I just have a paltry acceptance of my social tendencies. The interactions I've shared with my roommates are limited to one brief conversation per roommate. They never make their presence known. Do I even have roommates at the moment? No way of knowing. I've thought about opening their doors just to check, but if they were in there I'd have to explain what I was doing, and that's a lot of work for something I don't really care enough about.

I like to make up improbable scenarios in my head for what my roommates do when they're not here. Example:
           They're all just extremely sexually active. Every night they venture out on a new sexcapade, sporting their finest leather skirts and fedoras, apathetically drawn-on eyebrows and drugstore blue eyeshadow (I like to imagine these as very ninetees-esque sexcapades). These girls would act like they're in a late 90's/early 2000's high school movie: they're totally DTF, but they would standoffish-ly freak if weed or cheat sheets were in their presence, "You guys, this might be a bad idea. My mom would totes go postal if she found out".


Another fun scenario:
          They're all part of a union that I'm not supposed to know about. Maybe it's some underground mafia-type deal, but for Timothy Spall (actor; plays Peter Pettigrue from the Harry Potter series). They're all anamorphic creatures: one roley-poley, one blue gill fish, and one transformation that always goes terribly wrong and she ends up looking like that gooey blob fish from the China Town in MIB 3. All of them are almost completely useless, but Spall likes the idea of governing dismal disciples. Spall, himself still turns into a rat just because he kind of looks like one. This "squad" shares a sole priority to capture the Declaration of Independence (they were inspired by National Treasure). However, the team will never accomplish anything because they're all the animal versions of themselves when they're together, and my roommates forget anything that had occurred upon their return to the dorms.

This post feels sort of shorter than the others, but I have nothing further to discuss under this topic. So I'll wrap this bs up.

aright aright ariiiggghhht.


SO. Something that I've never done before:

SIT ATOP A MOUNTAIN

One last thought to entertain:
        People tattoo themselves and alter their bodies in order to resemble an animal. Do you think they ever regret it? Like maybe a month later, they're eating their McMuffin thinking, "Hm. This was a bad idea. I'm the Best Man at my brothers wedding, which is next weekend. Yes. This was a bad idea". Or like what if they decide to do that one day and then their friends ask them to hang out like 2 weeks later, but they've neglected to inform their friends of their extreme alterations. The friend opens the door and screams/begins to cry, "OKAY, YES! I TOOK THE LAST CHEX MIX OUT OF THAT SENILE WOMAN'S CART AT KROGER, JUST LEAVE MY FAMILY OUT OF IT!". But it turns out it's just their friend and now they have to write a long, apologetic, explanatory letter in order to redeem themselves. You're beautiful the way you are and you will never be a different species on this planet, but we're all pretending to be really sorry about it for you.

Night.

On Changing (Relatively Serious Note)

After this weekend, I've figured out that in valuing things that are unimportant, you're devaluing yourself. This is one of my biggest problems. I lower my standards almost in search for something...but...what? I DON'T KNOW.

For example, I drink. I go out with a particular group of friends on varying weekends out of the semester and it's just get shit face. But, for what? What the hell am I proving by drinking underage and withering myself down to this vulnerable, noncommunicable being. This is where my biggest regrets lie: under the influence. I've ruined friendships, frightened my family members, proved myself to be the most desperate yet undesirable human being on earth....all because I don't want to face reality for a couple hours? Because I can't handle real feelings? This isn't even worth it, yet thousands of people my age do it, and all of their answers to the question "why" are the same: they don't really know. Every time I drink I wake up regretting it. I think about all of the people I must have harassed, what my grandma would say to me, and, most of all, how my brother would react.

My brother, Fran, is the most important person to me on this earth. However, I proved this can actually mean nothing. One weekend, he was visiting me and staying in my dorm. We hadn't really been doing anything besides streaming videos and, my friend - whom I was developing feelings for at the time - texted me, asking if I wanted to drink with him. I told Fran I'd only be gone for about an hour, and I was right, but what he didn't expect was that I'd be belligerent and in tears upon my return. I had both half a pint of R&R and a heavy heart in me when I got back. It turns out this friend was putting the moves on me when he had a girlfriend and I just got up and left, and I was incredibly uncertain that I had made the right choice. I didn't go straight back to my room. I saw that the study hall was unoccupied, so I stumbled in and turned off the lights to sob alone for a couple minutes. My best friend, Quesadilla, found me in there and we hashed it all out. One of the last things she said to me was, "Wait, didn't you say your brother was up here? Why'd you go drinking if he's here?". I couldn't even look at her. I had no good answer. And she had nothing cordial to say to me about it.

Quesadilla walked me to my room where I met Fran and tried not to seem as intoxicated as I was. He walked into the other room with Quesadilla and asked what was going on, and she told him everything. If he needed anything, he was to call her or come to her room. Quesadilla stayed for about 10 minutes to make sure Fran would be safe, and when everything looked clear, she left.

That night, I sat with my brother for three hours, crying. I wasn't crying about the superficial love issues I'd be facing in the days following, I was crying about how I let Fran down in the worst way possible. We grew up with an alcoholic parent, and upon seeing the devastating effects it can have on a household, I promised my brother that I'd never get like that and that he could always count on me, as he could never count on them in the same ways again. I blew it.

AND FOR WHAT?!

TO KEEP DRINKING JUST SO I CAN FORGET WHAT I'VE DONE TO HIM?!

This is the point I am making: you do things for experience, and that is great, but you should be doing things not for that sole purpose. Is getting hammered tonight going to reflect positively on your tomorrow? Do you even give a shit? I didn't. And despite everything that's happened, I didn't give a shit until today.

If I wake up and sincerely feel like a failure every morning after I drink, why do I do it at all? What sort of example am I setting for Fran? I don't want him to be like me! I'm the one that is supposed to fuck up and warn him about things, I'm not supposed to fuck up and just let him keep on watching me fuck up! That makes no sense.

So a promise I've made to myself tonight is to stop. Stop doing things that make me feel shitty about myself. Stop thinking about #1 and start thinking about everyone else I may be effecting, and think about how this will hurt/help my future. I only have 2 years left in college, why not do something positive instead of thinking about myself all the time?

I want to do this. I want to be there for my brother. I want him to be able to count on me again. I know he says he does, and we still have the closest relationship out of everyone I'm associated with, but I also know I had created a barrier the night that I blew my promise. I just hope he knows how sorry I am about it.

I am not saying that in life, there isn't room to make mistakes. If I didn't mess up at all, I wouldn't be this person taking account for her actions right now. Go ahead, drink, do drugs, go mess up - but then take responsibility for what you've done and make it right! That is what life is about. We live and we learn.

Maybe I should be making these things shorter. I don't really know. I just always have a lot on my mind and I'm just preparing to switch topics by writing this sentence. So there.

In rediscovering myself, I've come up with some pretty huge points to start considering:

There are a lot of people who poison the air I breathe and just are all-around bad influences. If I think badly of others while I'm not with them, why am I hanging out with them at all?

Why do I eat so much, yet, do so little? (I guess everyone must ask themselves this, but whatever) It's like filling up a gas tank on the off-chance you choose to drive around the world 300 times.

Why don't I talk to my best friend everyday like I used to? I always feel good afterwords and I always leave with new information or a funny joke to tell someone else. I am just really taking that for granted lately.

Why don't I tell my family members exciting news about my life...or even important updates? Maybe I'm afraid they won't share the same level of enthusiasm about it. For example, I just auditioned and made it into this A Capella group called Central Harmony. I was talking to my sister on the phone earlier today and it was getting dangerously close to rehearsal time. I said, "I have to go to rehearsal, love you, bye!" and she caught me before I hung up, "Wait, wait, wait!!! What?! What rehearsal?". I realized at that moment that I hadn't told anybody, not even my brother, that I had made it into this group. It may be something completely subconscious where I believe I'm the only person who finds my news interesting. I haven't given it too much thought, but it's something I should probably come back to.

AND

Why do people give so many shits about what other people say about them? Really, the way I look at it is that no one can say anything to me that I haven't already said to myself. (That sounds really awkwardly depressing, but, like, I get over myself really quickly and move on with my life, I don't linger on most of my issues for very long). Life is way too short to care about the bad things people say, when those people are probably people you don't care for very much yourself. Hate is too contagious this day in age.

So having said all of these things, some changes need to be made immediately in my life and I truly can't wait to get started.



Something that I have never done before:

WATCH "FORREST GUMP"

One last thought to entertain:

        Contrary to common belief, George Washington's teeth were made out of whale bone - not wood. Of all animals, why would you use whale bone? And how? It's not like they're an easy animal to get ahold of, right? And when you do, should you call it poaching? (Like elephants, because they're huge.) That's got to be illegal now. I wonder if they had a nautical aroma or taste to them.

Night.

Average

The other day I purchased a blog address online for $50. As it turns out, I have no brain for technology and how to build a website. I thought I would just be given my choice of template, but it was much more complicated than that.  I wasted 70% of what could have been a phone payment.

I am Emily and the above story is completely irrelevant to anything.

I guess I'm starting this blog just as a daily/weekly journal to pretend people read the strange and normal things that happen to me. And I guess starting one of these off with "I guess.." is a horribly cliche attempt to convince a reader you could care less about the "something" your doing - even though if that were really the case you wouldn't even be doing it. Which is why I'll start again...I guess.

When you meet someone or read something by someone, the typical introduction is them first diluting their intelligence and then stating how "average" they are. Telling someone that you're "just an average person" is like looking at the color purple and saying, "Oh pshhh. That's just an average color". The person you say this to ought to have a response along the lines of, "That really makes no fucking sense at all. What could be average about a color; they're all different". Every human being's life is vivid and complex and disparate from all others - it's just that one person doesn't have enough time to care about everyone else' shit.

So I won't lie and say that I'm an average person - partially because no one can say what that really entails - and mostly because I like to believe that I do not constitute the requirements of said average person and neither do any of the people I associate with. My life is the most delicious dinner I've ever eaten; my favorite landscape of all my childhood travels; a reassuring, untouchable feeling I get when my best friend has fallen asleep before I have; all of the heartbreaks in foreign cars (one of the queerest trends of mine); and the nostalgic smell of my better grandparents' house. My life is awesome, exciting, upsetting, unpredictable, and....above all.... different from anyone else.

Having said that, I don't want to put others under the influence that my life is at all interesting. There are people who have met or attempted to meet most of today's world leaders. There are people who have visited hundreds of countries (and in saying that, I don't even know if I should exclude North Korea because, ya know, maybe there IS a way out aside from dying). There are people who hunt mythical creatures, glitter-bomb political figures, change their gender, or vandalize.

It is a Friday night: I am currently sitting on my bed (4 ft off the ground), in sweatpants, a men's XL shirt, and a bra that barely counts, gripping a box of Cheez-It's, worrying solely about some TV show relationship gleaming with ironic potential, and subconsciously praying that I won't fall off of my bed tonight. I am literally setting a scene of a person who has done nothing of true importance with his/her life...YET!

You see how I did that? I just eased my way into the "goals" segment of this predictable introductory blog post. I guess a more interesting word I should have use would have been "finagled" - mostly because I know at least a slight minority would have to look it up and that's an entertaining thought.

So having already finagled my way here, I should state first that I am a creativity-based creature who holds almost zero relevant skills. An exclusively deep emotional-thinker - I have varying passions and hold no restraints against any of them. Which is why it is so appropriate that I am an Art major (Actually a double major paired with Marketing because I'm no idiot to really think that a 2-D concentration will keep food in my fridge). In a 5-year projection, I see myself in a bustling city, on my way to my job as an advertiser or editor, wearing vintage and condemning my fellow young people who scoff at their fellow young people just because some mainstream things are irresistible. I pretty much have it all down to the details. This seems like a horrible way to go about life, but I am building a path which will hopefully lead me to that exact spot in time. The most important thing is that I take into account all of the unpredictable events that are bound to occur.

In all honesty, all I know is that I want to graduate from CMU within the next 2-3 years. Even love is a whole other quandary that, withal being almost 2 decades old, I still cannot begin to apprehend and as far as it being in my plans...well, until further notice, it shall remain unscathed territory.

Going out on a tangent: If everyone's love fantasy came true, then I would be able to time travel and work things out with 1980's Lindsey Buckingham. I'd never stop thinking about my tomorrows with that guy. Just look upon his utter perfection:

...you're welcome. And for those who understood the pun, you're music taste is almost excellent.


Anyway...


I keep scrolling up, too. It's okay.

Admittedly, it's hard to talk about your future when the lights are off and you're only wearing unplugged headphones because what if your smoking roommate walks in and asks you to smoke and you just want to ignore them because you don't smoke but you're still cool because you can't hear over your headphones....which aren't actually serving any purpose aside from visual deceit. In that moment that's all you can worry about because you know you'll be fine tomorrow, at least. One thing I have taken a while to fix in my head is that in the end, I will always be fine. Even if things are so shitty that I can't picture anything getting any worse - even if I'm bleeding out next snow slush and worried about the slush getting in somehow or how much it's going to hurt once I get inside and my fingers start to thaw - there will always be something I can do or someone that I can go to.

So this whole thing is the "Flowing Along" plan. I'm going to take any opportunity given to me, say yes to all...er...most...proposals, and try to find something I've never done before every day. I'll list one activity I've never done with each post and eventually form a list. I'll have to finish those things by the end of the year and write a new story about my experience and with whom I experienced it with and all their shit and why they're such an amazing person.

That is why I named my blog Room 4 Elephants. I want to do things differently and I want to be able to talk about those things in full disclosure. And I think writing is where I feel safe enough to achieve all of those things.

So...one thing that I have never done before:

YOGA

And here I sit for ten minutes contemplating what my sign-off will be. 

Do something...? That's really awful. Cheesy. Yikes. I probably don't even need one.
 

One last thought to entertain:

         Some animals have pouches. Like pockets... Could I get this Cheez-It box inside there? And exactly how many office pens could fit into the average pouch?

(I'd like to think if this had a soundtrack, here is where Midnight City by M83 would start).

Night.