A Few Thoughts on my Pending Graduation

That's right folks, in just a few short days I will be walking across a stage wearing a very unflattering gown and ridiculous square hat that is sure to ruin my perfectly coiffed hair while fighting a losing battle against a tassel which is surely only there to make all of these supposedly well-educated adults look like ignorant kittens as we playfully (or angrily) bat it out of our faces. And as this moment approaches, I must tackle many very important questions that face all college graduates:

1. Will I ever find a job?
2. How will I make enough money to eat?
3. Will I have to live in a portable ice shanty on Wisconsin Avenue?
4. If I can afford two portable ice shanties, set them up side-by-side and rent the other one out to another recent college graduate can I call it a duplex?
5. If I can call it a duplex, does that make me a landlord and mean that I have to draw up some sort of lease for my next door shanty neighbor?
6. If this does make me a landlord will Jenny and Mike show me all of the necessary tricks to being the greatest shanty manager/landlord that I can be?

Yes folks. These are all questions that recent college graduates must face. But while it's slightly frightening to be thrown out into the world on my own, it's time. While I'm not going to pretend like I am suddenly going to turn into some very serious adult who only worries about deadlines and the financial bottom line, I will say that it is high time for me to go out into the world and see what I can do. So to all of you who read this, I thank you for keeping me sane through these crazy college years. Lord knows without my friends I would constantly be in my over-stressed, somewhat unpleasant state that, thanks to all of you, only comes out every once in a while. Ending college is a bittersweet time, but it's time for me to grow up. Besides, we all know that I'll more than likely be back in school someday once I figure out what the hell to do with these three seemingly unrelated areas of study. And when that time comes about again, I hope all of you will still be around to make sure I maintain my sanity.

Did you hit me with a baseball bat while I was sleeping?

I have had a less than stellar week. I spent the better part of 2 hours on Saturday sitting in a snow-filled ditch wrapped in a blanket while my car was nestled in what I like to call a large patch of glorified twigs. Now there is no need to worry. I am fine. Not so much as a broken fingernail and my car got away with only several scratches and a dent the size of a Swedish meatball (you should know by now that my analogies are never normal) and then had to pay some creepy man over $100 to tow my ass out. But I then made it the rest of the 1.5 hours home only to get hit on by a band of sleazy men at the gas station (baby girl do you know you're in the hood? did you know that you're in the hood and you're sexy? that is not a safe combination here... in the hood) and arrive back at the MC only to find some jackass with a VW Golf (one of the five that VW actually sold of that model) parked in my spot. He picked the wrong day to park in my spot and came out to a lovely parking ticket and big orange violation sticker. In my neighborhood I could have smashed his front window and no one would have looked twice (because I live in the hood you know, in case you weren't paying attention earlier).

As if that weren't enough, my body decided to entirely crap out this week (you know, the week where I had a two-day theology test, two quizzes, and a project to finish). I could deal with the headaches and the throwing up, but today was simply the last straw. I woke up and my body just hurt everywhere as if I had put myself through some kind of rigorous workout routine, and we all know that is clearly not the case. Which brings me to my opening question. Did any of you hit me with a baseball bat while I was sleeping? And then drag me outside and run me over with your car 5 times? And then take me skydiving without a parachute? Cause it certainly feels like you did so you might as well fess up now.

Isn't it neurotic? Don't you think? A little too neurotic.

I'm not perfect.

Okay, I'll pause a moment as you regain your composure from that inevitable large shock-filled gasping breath you just took in.....

Alright, now that you've regained your composure I'll explain. I just finished "Devil in the Details" by Jennifer Traig (fantastic book) in which she humorously explains her life-long battle with OCD and her strive to be perfect. While I will not pretend that this book has suddenly led me believe I myself suffer from OCD or can even entertain the notion that I completely understand the outstanding nature of her compulsions or her battle with anorexia, I can see some of myself in her.

Here is something I have really never talked to anyone about. When I was younger I felt the need to do things that I didn't really understand. Why was it that I had to take exactly 10 sips, no more no less, from the bubbler? If I bumped my left side against something, why did I then also have to brush that item with my right side to "feel even?" To this day I always break numbers down in my head until they cannot be broken down anymore. I incessantly type out words in my head and at times feel compelled to walk at a certain stride, making sure not to step on any cracks. I like to blame my need to watch my feet when I walk on the fact that I just don't walk very well, but that's not necessarily the case. You may be saying well, maybe you're just a little neurotic. Maybe it's just a little quirk you have. And I agree. It doesn't interfere with my ability to do everyday tasks and I function reasonably well in everyday society. So what's the problem? What's the real kicker? I used to think, and sometimes still do at times, that if I don't do these things it would somehow cause disastrous things to happen. This was increasingly reinforced by the fact that when I did do them bad things didn't happen.

But sometimes I don't think about these things. Sometimes I break the ridiculous rules I have set for myself. And you know what? Nothing bad happens. Everything is okay. No one dies. My world does not come to a screeching halt. I can get by without breaking down the number "39" into "13" because both numbers are divisible by 3. Doing these things doesn't make me perfect. I'm perfectly imperfect. And that's okay.

p.s. As I was writing this post the song "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley came on my i-tunes. Not very reassuring to hear someone constantly say "I think you're crazy" while trying to reaffirm your own sanity. Coincidence?

Burning Questions

Now I know that during this Christmas season you may all be asking yourself "Has Courtney taken up knitting as a stress reliever since she received knitting items as a Christmas gift this year?"

The answer would be yes. And I am kind of taking to it. I just made a scarf. Lovely.

Merry Christmas to All.

p.s. Thanks to all who made Festivus a blast.

Who doesn't love a good snow day?

All of this snow reminds me of all of the crazy/unsafe things we used to do as children in the snow. Like sledding. Always an unsafe choice. Someone was always getting hurt or stuck in a snow bank. Or if you were me you'd get to the bottom of the hill and have trouble getting back up to the top. Being "handicapable" is not always so advantageous. But I digress.

Because I went to a tiny perocial elementary school out in "the sticks", we did things like take a half day off of school to go on a school-wide sledding outing. We also did things like take entire days off to go rollerskating or hold our annual "LLS Olympics." I clearly learned a lot during elementary school. It's a wonder I can tie my own shoes.

But anyway, the annual sledding trip always seemed to end in tragedy. As if Adam running full-speed into an electric box wasn't enough to put the kibosh on this annual Lebanon tradition, I finally solidified the beginning of the end when I sledded off of a man-made “sledding jump” which knocked the wind out of me and gave the teachers a good concussion scare. It was pretty awesome.

Side note: One winter I decided making a snowman was too normal for me so I made a snowduck, complete with ducklings trailing behind. Best snow animal ever.

Speaking of sledding, the other day I saw facebook pictures of people sledding on recycling bins, lunch trays, and other assorted plastic items. While these items by themselves make for an amazing sledding adventure, the amazingness was only heightened by the fact that all of these itemse were clearly stolen. Jenny, Johnny, I feel like this could possibly be the winter version of urban kite flying. Maybe we could call it pilfered sledding or something. Who knows. We will work on the name at a later date.

Enjoy the snow everyone!!

Did you hear what I heard?

Because this is a somewhat Christmas-related post, I thought I would start off with a Christmas-inspired title. Think "The Little Drummer Boy" written in past tense. But I digress.

Anyway, I was just informed that the 16-year-old girl who played Mary in that new movie "The Nativity Story" is pregnant. Out of wedlock. Oh the irony. I think I would claim immaculate conception. I mean, maybe she just got that into her role. Crazy. Oh Christmas.

some thoughts i had today

disclaimer: the thought contained in the above thought bubble is much more entertaining than anything contained in the post to follow

things i thought today but didn't say out loud:

hey girl. yeah, you in the pink shirt. is that shirt new? i hope so cause you still have the price tag on it. however, you are walking much too briskly for me to catch up with you and i feel it innappropriate to yell something like this at you.

the library is supposed to be a quiet place to work. why in the hell are you doing very loud construction in the middle of the when you could wait 4 hours for everyone to be gone on break? what sort of construction device even makes a high-pitched squealing noise like that?

was that a bird that just ran into the window of the classroom?

who the hell smokes a cigar on their way to class?

the leaves are particularly crunchy as i walk through them today. delightful.

man i lead an exciting life.

Things that don't impress me

Hey creepy man in bar, here are a few portions of your conduct that I find less than impressive:
1. Your "sweet moves"
2. The fact that your favorite movie is "What About Bob?"
3. That you invite us to go with you to another bar, only to find out that said bar is less than a hundred feet from this bar.
4. Your "wingman" who has decided to gaze at me in a creepy manner
5. Your general demeanor
6. Your relentless attempts to make some kind of "genuine connection with another human being" by following us out of the door
7. Your failure to understand the meaning of the words "Hey buddy, why don't you just move right along?"

Boat for Sale

Jennifer and I were discussing personal ads this evening when I made a startling discovery. Have you every noticed that personal ads sound almost exactly the same as people searching for other things? I mean, think about it. Things like "Hansome Young Businessman seeks Tall, Leggy Professional Woman" could easily be replaced with "Handsome young businessman seeks 40 foot yacht on which to throw extravegant parties and engage in general debauchery." I have since become convinced that many who write personal ads only do so because they were already halfway there from that ad they wrote last week looking for someone to come wash their windows or to find that prized Mickey Mantle baseball card they have been seeking out for some time now. Now I ask all of you next time you read your local newspaper or search on Craigslist to imagine what all of these "man seeking woman" types had actually originally written that particular ad for. I think you'll see my point.

And to end this post I will give you an example of a personal ad from Craigslist under the "missed connections" area that does not necessarily fit the prototypical personal ad but made us laugh extremely hard nonetheless:

Yo girl in the white chevy cav with the hipster cut

And there are many more where that came from.

General public concensus on a hard-hitting issue

When did calling someone a liar cease to be enough of an insult that people also felt the need to preceed it by calling them big and fat? Isn't that redundant anyway? I mean, really.