Giveaways!

Guys, I'm not sure if you've seen it, but there is an awesome contest going on!

http://dawn-metcalf.livejournal.com/109724.html

Check it out!

Nyan Cat Costume

This is what comes to mind at 2 am.

I really want to make this costume. And wear it everyday. (At 2 am, only)

We start with:

Ears:

Top:

Skirt:

Leggings:

Shoes:

Tick Tock Tick Tock

I'm not good at waiting. My patience is thin and, in the situations I control, I demand immediate answers. When I don't get them, I begin to fret and pace and generally freak myself out to the brink of breakdown.

Today the university I'd like to transfer to confirmed that they have everything they need to make the decision. My Benedictine transcript arrived safely, along with my application and other forms. They just need to make a decision.

Logically, I should get in. I have a 3.56 GPA for my freshman year. I'm applying to a program that requires a 2.5 GPA. This program isn't extremely popular either. The university is known well for its science majors, so it's English degrees haven't been in the spotlight for awhile. I'm hoping that lends itself to my advantage.

I'm not sure though. The unknown terrifies me. I'm a perpetual planner, carrying around an agenda while having a backup on my Google Calendar. I ask for dates off from work months in advance; I schedule appointments for next year without worries. Having this decision be so close to the beginning of the school year frightens me. Will I have enough time to plan my schedule? Will I be able to talk to my roommate about what to bring before we buy our items? Who knows.

It certainly doesn't help that they get over four thousand applicants to go through each semester. I'm just one out of four thousand.

It can't be helped.

I'll just have to distract myself until my answer comes.

I'd Rather Live Under the Stairs

It had been known for years that the moment I moved out would be the moment that my mom finally gained the art room that she always wanted. She would remove all of my possessions to make room for her own and then forbid anyone from going into "her" room.

I had no problem with this in the beginning. I really didn't spend much time in my room. I chose to sleep out on the couch in the living room where the air conditioner was located. It didn't help that I was constantly sick. I had to sleep sitting up, else I'd spend the entire night coughing, and my bed wasn't really useful for that.

In this moment, I wish I could throw every marker and stamp that my mother has in my old bedroom and take it back.

When we originally moved into this house, my sister was about to attend college. They morphed the attic into a bedroom for when she returned home and it remained generally clean. Then she left. Dad started to move his radios and general junk up into the room. Zak moved back in to live there for a few months, followed by Jessica and Miranda moving in for another six months. After they were gone, the attic became the storage shed. We have boxes after boxes cluttering the room and making it ridiculously hard to move around in.

That is now my bedroom. My father has been getting on my case all week about it not being clean up there. In reality, it is clean. I just don't have a dresser or a closet to put my belongings in. The floor is the only spot that was open when I walked in with everything from my dorm room.

I could stand this. I could arrange things, playing real life tetris until things fit. That was actually my plan until I started to implement it today. I found dead ants on the stairway, dead bees near the trash can, and everything coated in a layer of dust. I'm already half-sick and have a bad case of asthma; I'm not going to be living in a place that my immune system cannot handle.

Dave's going to help me clean today because I started crying with frustration while I was upstairs.

Even my dorm room was better than this, and that had black mold.

Out with a Whisper

Tomorrow launches a new project with Bailey.

Every Tuesday and Thursday for an ENTIRE year, I'll be vlogging. She'll be handling the Mondays and Wednesdays.

We're still looking for a name for our joint vlog, so please submit suggestions!

Spring Ball

I promised a good blog today, so I'll try my best.

I tend to shy away from dances on my campus. It isn't that I don't love dances. I do. I adore dancing, dressing up, and having a good time. I just don't think my campus usually reaches those goals.

During homecoming week, I went to the dance. A lot of freshmen claimed they were going, but bailed on the last second, so I ended up with Stephanie, Jim, and Katherine.

The day before, Vy and I shopped the mall searching for dresses until I finally came upon my dress. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's pretty much a remake of the Little Black Dress from Shock Treatment. Except much shorter and the sleeve is just a thick strap of sequins. I loved this dress. I bought a regular bra, of which I had to manipulate and cut to make it a strapless bra, to go with it. When I walked out of my dorm room in it, I got compliments from the girls on my floor. I felt pretty.

At the time, I had enough confidence to wear my wig for Halloween too. I rocked the blue hair and people thought it was real.

Unfortunately, the food was subpar, drinks were pricey, and Katherine bailed after a half hour. Leaving me with a gushy couple who was my ride home.

I didn't want to go to another dance.

When Spring Ball came up a few weeks ago, I told Kristin the only way to get me to go was to convince Michelle. I thought she was unbreakable. She broke last night.

My ticket was payed for and I agreed because it was a free three course dinner, if nothing else.

So, I pulled on some leggings and a long shirt that shows most of my breasts, and went to the Spring Dance. I'm thankful I did.

I sat at a table of dorks and we discussed Harry Potter OTPs, Doctor Who Series Six Theories, and fanfiction. Nothing better than that. Oh, wait, there is. There was cheesecake and an ice cream bar.

We danced like idiots and had fun.

And then I won John and Eddy's pizzas. Two of them. And a sandwich.

I didn't figure it worth mentioning, but I ran out of meals on my food card this week. God provides in weird ways. One of those ways is gifting me with free food in unlikely places while I have two weeks left to get through.

Life is good.

Sigh, Sorry

Okay, I've totally been bailing on these blog posts.


Really bad.

I apologize.

I promise to do a good one tomorrow

She's a Super Freak

I'm done with freaking out.

I'm applying to UAlbany. If I don't get in, then I don't go.

I'm also applying to Siena College. I love them (and their basketball team). I am more likely to get in there.

If I don't get in, I go to HVCC. Siena set up a program to follow to the T to get all of the credits that will transfer into their English program.

Either way, I'm done with the freak out.

Until finals.

Going Crazy

I’m freaking out, guys.

Really, truly freaking out.

I applied you UAlbany the other day. Logically, I should get in. I have a 3.6 GPA while the required is a 2.5 for my program. But then I started to talk to people.

One of my friends applied in January. Seriously, January. Since then, her application has been “pending”. Sure, she applied for a really tough program for which the required GPA is 3.2. She had the same GPA as I did, along with having completed two years to my one. Why hasn’t she been accepted, if my friends are so certain I will be?

So, I’m freaking out. Near to the point of tears. On a whim, I’ve applied to St. Rose, just to see if I’ll get in there. It’s no longer about the tuition prices. I can figure that out. I just want to be back home.

Sigh.

All I can do is wait.

Barely a Blog

Dave is a moron.


That's all.

Goodnight, Folks.

Easter Summary

Easter was amazing.

I went to a buffet at a golf course, one that regularly costs 30 dollars, for half price. 

It had some of the best food I've ever tasted.

Then took a ride in my uncle's Model A.

Then passed out.

Still half asleep.

*snores*

I'm Blessed

Life just keeps getting better.

Book signings like to coincide with places that I'm going to be.

Well, not always. I mean, I missed out on Rachel Cohn, Laurie Halse Anderson, and Ned Vizzini coming to my hometown because my Spring break was just a week too early. And I missed Cassandra Clare and Holly Black by three days when I moved out here to Illinois.

But, generally, I get lucky when it comes to signings.

Part of the reason I moved to Benedictine was because, on the day that I was visiting, John Green and David Levithan were doing a signing in the town. My visit had been planned months before and happened to coincide on the same day. My dad has a ton of pictures of me meeting them both and I got signed books for me, Hannah, and Natalie. It was a fantastic experience.

Yesterday, I found out that the day before I leave, a ton of amazing writers are coming to town. Sara Bennett Wealer, Sarah Rees Brennan, Julia Karr, Lisa and Laura Roecker, Leah Clifford, Saundra Mitchell, Courtney Allison Moulton, Aimee Carter, and Christine Johnson.

I immediately called up the bookstore to ask about ordering the books and spots in line. I was told that the event had been set up just an hour before and that I should call back on Tuesday, after the holiday, to get my number. But, still, I hope they understand how packed this event is going to be.

I told Laura and Forest that they should attempt to make it and both of them are seriously wanting to attend.

When I finally calmed down about how amazingly awesome the date that they're coming is, I received some texts from Bailey talking about Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta. This is my absolute favorite book and I rec it to everyone.

I casually tweeted that I would die if I ever owned a signed copy, only to be tweeted back by an Australian author offering for me to send it to her and her getting it signed.

She lives ten minutes from Melina and, as soon as she can arrange it, is going to get a signed copy for me. How insane is that?

I'm blessed.
 <3

I love Interwebs

I'm not sure how I became so lucky, but the internet has done nothing but fill my life with joy and friends.
Even more, the influences from the internet have spread into everyday real world and make me happy.

Most of the Writer Girls Create Chaos knit. After hearing Rachael and Laura discuss yarn so many times, I decided to start. My boss brought me knitting needles, two skeins of Lions Brand Homespun in Pesto, and a crochet hook last night and began to teach me the basics.

According to her, I'm the quickest knitting learner that she's ever seen. I knit ten inches last night, only dropping three stitches, and that was my first try. She bound it off for me to keep and had me start over for David's scarf. So far, it is about fifteen inches and I've yet to drop a stitch. I feel like a knitting bad ass, despite the fact that it is a simple garter stitch.

I'm not really surprised that I'm good at knitting, truthfully. I need something to do with my hands at all times. It's why I type really fast. It's why, as a child, I had a worry stone that I actually worried through. My teacher's demanded that I get one because my hands could never be still.

Also, I've always been into crafts. During elementary school, I used to make lanyard bracelets, key chains, necklaces, and headbands. I sincerely had boxes upon boxes of the plastic string, all in different colors that entertained me. My mom would buy me books on new ways to create designs and I just loved every single one.

I'm not sure why I ever got out of the lanyards. They were fun.

But I like knitting more.

I am not Number 4

Being at a small school definitely has its benefits.

Nearly every single professor I have taken remembers my name. They know about me. It may seem like a cheesy University commercial, but it really is awesome.

Today, my religion professor from last semester came into the library, mentioning how he wished me a good holiday, and then a good Summer on the East coast.

I mean, it's one thing to remember a that a person had taken your class, or even their name, but remembering that they're an out of state student from which side is kind of spectacular. At least to me. I usually can't remember the details. Especially if I had to deal with a ton of people.

I am going to miss that. I'm going to miss how my writing and literature professors know where I'm from, what I want to do, and encourage me specifically on how to get there.

I know that this is overused and abused, but I was a number at my high school. We had a ton of kids and teachers barely knew the basics about us.

But there are less people here and the professors genuinely want you to succeed.

People are astounding sometimes. Customer Service may break my hope in humanity every so often, but people who are awesome always restore it.

Boring Posts are Boring

I love to make things. I get really addicted to a project and love to see the outcome.

The problem is, most of my things are virtual and I never get the physical awesomeness of having created something I can touch.

So, I'm about to change that. I'm starting knitting tomorrow.

I've picked a simple pattern and will be fetching the supplies needed tomorrow.

And then, a scarf. For Dave.

I can't wait.

Insanity Day

Oh, hai, blog. How are you today? Have I introduced you to the mutton yet?

Okay, today may have driven me a bit insane.

Over the past twenty four hours, I wrote 2 papers and outlined a speech. This is bad for a girl who doesn't like doing work at all.

But there was a glorious part of today.

I won an ARC of Imaginary Girls by Nova Ren Suma!

Seriously, I did. I never win things. This is more than awesome.

*dances around*

*dances*

*falls*

Time to get back to work. But celebrate with me, blog! We'll buy micropigs and custard and sonic screwdrivers of cheer!

Winners!

I'm not going to lie, this giveaway failed.

A total of EIGHT people entered. Meaning you had a 63% chance of getting a prize. That's really good.

I guess it's better that a lot of people didn't enter. I kept freaking out over how the three people who didn't win would react. I hope they don't take it too badly.

Anyway, everyone I talked to was focusing on the Owl Prizes. In fact, the only other thing mentioned in conversation was the puppy towel, over a series of five tweets. Then it was back to the owls.

In my attempts not to cheat or be swayed by who I felt wanted the prizes the most, I put numbers next to each person's name and had Megan use an online lotto generator to get five random numbers out of those. She didn't know which numbers were who, I didn't get to change the numbers. So, it was as random as I could make it.

Anyway, here are the winners!

Bailey won an Owl Necklace.
Kelly won an Owl Keychain.
Megan won an Owl Necklace.
Laura won an Owl Necklace.
Katie won and Owl Necklace.

I'm sorry to all of those who didn't win.
When I have the cash, I'll be doing something with better prizes.

Oh, and guess who just got told that the shocks on the car she hasn't driven in since August are busted? Awesome. Gotta go deal with life.

The Number Five

I love the number five.

In a few minutes, I'll be hitting my 5,555th tweet and that is a cause for celebration. Or, you know, an excuse to give away free stuff.

So, I'm doing a random drawing for anyone interested and giving out five prizes. These are not GOOD prizes because I'm a college student. But they made me smile.

1.) Owl Necklace:

2.) Puppy Towel:

3.) Pencil Shaped Fan:

4.) Owl Keychain Watch:

5.) Angry Birds Purse:

So, those are the prizes. Since this is really an excuse to give out free stuff, if you win something and you would rather get one of the other numbers, I'd probably do that.

Let me know on Twitter or on the blog if you're interested in winning! I'll be choosing tomorrow morning!
*choosing is done by a random generation, so I am truthfully not involved.

Things I Love

The smell of gasoline. Day old popcorn. Warm tshirts from out of the dryer. Soothing songs on Summer nights. Getting lost and finding new places. Swinging. The words I Love You. Blank pieces of paper. The idea of mini giraffes. Melted mozzarella cheese. Horror movies with fake blood. The first day of school. The taste of Blue Amp. Laying down in soft grass. Decreasing World Suck. Fanfiction. Hyper dance parties at 2 am. Hearing Dave moan. The weight of my promise ring on my finger. Licking a popsicle in the rain. Closing my eyes on roller coasters. Ripping off band-aids. Watching a good game of basketball. Building snow forts. Having hands run through my hair. The color green. Opening a new book. Meeting a favorite author. The cool side of the pillow. Chocolate Cake Shakes.
Facebook.
Twitter.
The WGCC.

Pajamas All Day

I have an addiction to procrastination.

Logically, I should be doing research for either my Political Science Policy Paper (PSPP) or my Ridiculous Santa Claus Debate (RSCD). Both are due next week. Both are tedious and rather long.

Another thing they have in common? I won't start either until tomorrow. I reserve Friday's specifically for procrastination.

Fridays are the best day of the week. I have no classes, nor work. They're a day dedicated to reading, blogging, vlogging, tweeting, and generally being the laziest person that I can be.

Let's take today for example.

Bailey and I stayed up until nearly 4 am on Skype. Finally, I fell asleep and didn't wake up until 10 am. Even that seemed too early. I wiggled about on my bed and read some fanfiction. I updated myself on the morning Twitter activity. I ate cookies. That was my morning.

Around one thirty, I was deeply involved in rereading Jellicoe Road, but I could tell I needed a shower. I finally abandoned my book to clean myself, and came back to eat popcorn for lunch.

Since then, I've done a vlog, I'm bsing this blog, and I've continued to read Jellicoe Road. Next up? Neopets. The ultimate tool of procrastination.

Whoever claims that Fridays aren't amazing just needs to spend a Friday with me.

Let's Move to Australia

This week has been one for tears.

I had to take a forced break from my birth control as my insurance companies switched and we had a hell of a time getting the right kind.

So, getting back on has been tough. My emotions are all over the place. Dave's been suffering for it, but I will admit that his dumbass-ery has added to the stress.

I just need this week to be over.

Staying in bed for all of tomorrow.

And I should start my PoliSci paper anyway.

Over and out.

Rock the Drop

I know, I know. I'm already doing Accio Books this month, so I shouldn't be doing another literature promotion. But tomorrow is TEEN LIT DAY.

Seriously, it is.

In celebration, Readergirlz and Figment are doing a project called Rock the Drop.

We all chose one or more books that we printed out the Rock the Drop Bookplate for and we're supposed to drop them in a public place, hoping that someone picks it up and reads it.

I'm going to drop The Nanny Diaries (found and bought at the book sale in my library) at a public park tomorrow.

What are you going to drop?

Well, That's Fruity

I never thought I would get excited over fruit.

My current campus is drenched in grease. The pizza, the burgers, the fries, and every other fast food dream can be found somewhere on this campus. When you first get here, that's somewhat exciting. Food that's unhealthy and tastes awesome. But by the middle of the semester, it becomes so sickening that you don't even look forward to meals anymore.

Truthfully, they do have salads. The lettuce is limp and the cucumbers can't be found, nor tomatoes.  You're stuck with lettuce, croutons, olives, and hard boiled egg. It gets old fast.

And leaves me craving for some actual healthy food.

I grew up on blackberries. We had a bunch of bushes in my backyard, so I'd spend each Summer picking out the ripest ones to eat. We have blackberry pie and blackberries with sugar on top. It was splendid. I miss it.

So, on my lazy Tuesday morning, I was lounging in bed and reading my email. One pops up from the school. There's a Farmers Market on campus today. I jump up to go and shower, immediately excited over the prospect of getting fresh fruit.

It's yet to open, so I'll check in another ten minutes. But I want at least a pint of blackberries, along with some cheddar cheese.

I can't believe I'm excited over this.

One Ounce of Good Luck

The English department at my college is pretty small. It consists of two majors: Writing and Publishing, along with English Literature and Language. In total, there are probably twenty professors involved. Tops. A majority of those teach Writ 101 and Writ 102, while there are about 7 or 8 that teach the upper level courses.

How this applies to my life: There were only a few people I could have gotten as advisors. Out of all of them, there would have been only three that I would have been happy to have. Those are Amir, Kauth, and Grasse. I'm actually not even sure that Grasse is an advisor, but I know the other two are. If I had planned to stay at Benedictine, I would have gone to my advisor and asked specifically for Amir, considering that he's my boss' best friend and demanded I have him.

Instead, on a draw of luck, I received Kauth. Because I was leaving, I was utterly disappointed to see a professor who is absolutely amazing on my advisor list. I tried to avoid it. I tried to put it out of my mind, pretend that Karen-the-Terrible was still my advisor. That was working, until today.

Prof. Kauth emailed me, telling me how excited she is to have me as an advisee and how she looks forward meeting to me before I plan my schedule for next week. I had to send an email back telling her that I have to leave Benedictine, regretfully.

And there are things that make me feel regretful about it. My job at the library is the best job that a person my age could get. I get really decent hours there and never have to worry about a changing schedule. My boss is amazing, as are my coworkers.

The writing and literature department here has been good to me, despite how small they are. I've gotten the best professors and they've taught me a lot.

There's just more for me at home.

New York is a bigger place for publishing. I have more opportunities to get internships there. Albany has the 4+1 year program where I can get my masters degree by the time I'm twenty three.

I found out last night that Dave and I are getting a house. His parents are signing the mortgage over to us when they move, which is extremely unexpected and crazy awesome.

Back to New York I go, but I will look back on my time in Chicago with happiness.

Fifteen Days

There are fifteen days of classes left for me, and then finals week.

This is completely terrifying, so I need to do a post breaking it down to calm my nerves.

Speech: I have a fourteen minute debate with my friend Crystal on the ethics of telling children that Santa Claus exists. This class also has a test during finals week, because my professor is insane. Probably one of the easiest last four weeks of all of my courses.

Writing: There's a seven to ten page research paper that we've yet to start. This also takes the place of the final exam, so I'm not too worried. We've yet to choose topics, but I want to write mine on the comparisons of Brother Grimm stories to Disney movies. Not the most difficult of four weeks.

Biology: We either have two or three more tests before this class is over. They're always fifty questions multiple choice, so not terribly hard. Professor canceled the final exam, so that's brilliant.

Literature: I have another short writing due in two weeks. Nothing terrible 2 pages. After that, there's a second paper (4-6 pages) due during the last week. Then a final during exam week. Decent amount of work.

Political Science: This is my hardest four weeks left. I have a seven to nine page paper due for this class, a public policy paper. He's very strict when it comes to writing style, so I'll have to let him see it quite a few times before I turn it in. Beyond that, I think I have another one page paper and a quiz in his class. Then he has a final during exam week.

Total: 1 Speech
           2 Small Papers
           3 Large Papers
           1 Quiz
           2 Tests
           3 Finals

Three Cheers for Fifty Years

Along with being my friend Megan's birthday, my father turns FIFTY today. So, I'm going to share some of my favorite stories of my father from when he was young.

Dad was on his school's debate team and was also a very big hippie. He wore an earring, had curly hair past his shoulders, and was a pothead. He came home one day to see that his parents found his weed. They were going to flush it, something my dad was not pleased with. Using his awesome debate skills, convinced them they legally had the right to call the cops, but did not have the right to repossess his property themselves. Not wanting to call the cops on their son, they gave my dad his weed back.

When he was little, my grandpa worked in the food industry. He was constantly bringing home new types of candy and soda that were still being tested. He convinced my father that he created 1 Up, 2 Up, 3 Up, 4 Up, 5 Up, 6 Up and then chose to stop. Dad believed this for a long time and was floored when he realized it was fake. This explains why I bought him personalized 6 Up soda for Christmas.

In his early twenties, Dad lost his driver's license at a rest stop bathroom. Instead of applying and getting a new one, he rode without it and constantly got tickets. It came to the point where a cop let him go without a ticket because he'd never get his license with another. My dad got his license again when he was thirty and was offered discounts on his car insurance because there was no record showing any previous tickets. Mom was FURIOUS.

Today, on his fiftith birthday, my Dad went to the shed and looked inside. He was brutally attacked my a shovel and got a terrible cut. Instead of going inside to clean it up, he took a picture and posted on Facebook, along with making it his default. He's telling everyone it's stigmata and that he needed sixteen stitches.

That's my Dad, folks. He's awesome

What Time Is It?

Okay, okay, I know this is late. Let me explain.

I didn't wake up until 10 am today, since I was up until 2 reading and I really didn't want to be awake until I roommate left. I waddled around the internet, searching for something to do, until I got a call from the mail room. I had a package from my mother and I refuse to leave the dorm without showering, so I quickly hopped into the cold water and cleaned myself. Then I went to the mail room to pick up the package of birth control, Cheez-Its, and Gushers.

I watched John Green's live show and listened to him reading his book, next. Immediately after, I felt the need to go spend money, so I walked to Walgreens and bought Cream Soda and Cashews. I came back, started reading, and fell back asleep.

Michelle woke me up by banging on my window at 7:05. We went to dinner, then to Red Mango, and finally to see the King's Speech. I JUST got dropped off ten minutes ago. And my browser froze while writing this.

So, that's why it's late. How was YOUR day?

Fo Shizzle

I try to attend all of the Literature-related events at my college. Most of them end up with only about twenty people showing up, which is pretty terrible considering how awesome the events are. Tonight was the seventh annual Benedictine Poetry Slam and, without a moment's hesitation, I went.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this turned out to be better than I could have imagined. Instead of a few scattered people, the entire room was full. Seats ran out early, so some people were standing, lining the hallways to the room.

Admittedly, I knew most of the people who had the courage to go up and do the open mic and the poetry slam. Some had been in my literature classes, some from my writing courses. Most of them were great. The MCs were all people from my current Lit. Class, people who worked together well and were funny.

Connor started it out with a small rapping poem and that set the scene.

I have to say that the most interesting poem I heard all night was when a guy asked for three words (banana, brownies, and cheese) and made a poem up on the spot. It was great.

Other ones concerned war, rape, love, first kisses, and other things. My favorite of the night would of had to be a poem that I'm pretty sure it was called, 'While My Pen Exploded'. It was about how the narrator had never seen a catastrophe and wished faith and help on all of the people who have.

Connor and Sam MC'd the second part, where they made jokes and Connor acted like Sherlock Holmes. It went from 18 to 5 contestants in a very short time, and all of the poems were magnificent.

I will admit that I bailed before the winners were called. Connor was dancing, Amir was shaking his head with amused despair, and I was starving.

I'm still happy I went. It was great to see so many people, mostly science majors, showing up to a literacy event.

Five Favorite Non-Profit Organizations

There are times when I'm spending so much money on luxuries that I become disgusted with myself. Right now, I made a deal with my Dad to put twenty five dollars into a bank account every month for the next year, then go after Final Four Basketball Tickets for 2013. Along with that, I've been buying teeshirts off of TeeFury, Ript Apparel, and Shirt.Woot like crazy. Sure, they've been great designs, but my wardrobe doesn't actually NEED them. 

Anyway, this blog post isn't just to say what a stupid spoiled brat I am. I try to even things out by Decreasing Worldsuck. There are easy ways, like sending a card to a child who has cancer or playing Free Rice, but I try to give twenty dollars to charity each month. Some months I can't do that (just like how I'm likely to skip the basketball deal during August, when my car insurance is due), but I try.

I went through websites yesterday and collected up my Top Five Favorite Non-Profit Organizations. Here they are, in no particular order:

1.) The Harry Potter Alliance.

I'm extremely bias on this, since I'm a member, but I love the HPA. They do programs like Helping Haiti Heal and Accio Books. They run smoothly and generally have a great program. They support the values shown in the Harry Potter Books. If you haven't already, you should check them out.

2.) This Star Won't Go Out.

If you're a Nerdfighter, you've heard John talk about this foundation. Esther was a Nerdfighter with cancer who died last year, when she was 16. The foundation supports families who need help paying for the medical care a child with cancer need. Esther was awesome and would have been proud of this organization.

3.) Donors Choose.

I especially like this program because I value education. I really like how you donate to a specific program and can choose how much you donate goes to administrative fees. My father refuses to donate to anything that has over 15% administrative fees, so I was happy to find this program that lets you choose how much goes to them. I like choosing the literacy programs, but I know some of my friends donate for the math ones. It's great because you know where your money is going.

4.) Reach Out and Read. 

I'm rather new to this program, but Katie pointed it out to me a few days ago. It's the program that Reading Relay will be donating their proceeds to in May. This program promotes reading from six months and up and breaches the gap between English and Science. Doctors prescribe books to families and encourage them to read to their kids aloud. They also fill the waiting room with toys that will promote literacy, rather than televisions that shut kids up. 

5.) ShelterBox.

ShelterBox was introduced to me through Maureen Johnson's Twitter. ShelterBox is an organization that goes to the current place of crisis to help families immediately. People can go in together to buy a shelterbox, or they can buy a shelterbox themselves. The program is super successful and does a great job.

Don't You Know You're Awesome?

If there is one thing that constantly amazes me, it is how normal authors are.

I'm not sure why I always expect authors to be very aware of how awesome they are and unapproachable because of that. Instead, I've found every author I've met to be extremely nice, eager to sign things when asked, and generally normal people.

The first author I officially met was Holly Black, back when I was a mumbling freshman in high school. I have loved her books since I was a fifth grader and actually asked my parents to pay for my World Fantasy Convention ticket instead of physical birthday present just so I could meet her. When that day came, just two days after my fourteenth birthday and two days into my first National Novel Writing Month, I was afraid. I had no idea how to approach her. Gathering up my courage, I went up to her after the panel ended. She was all smiles and signed my copy of Valiant without any hesitation. It is the first book I ever got signed and still holds a special spot on my bookshelf.

I didn't have a chance to go to any other signings in high school. Instead, I got involved watching the Vlogbrothers on YouTube and following Maureen Johnson on Twitter. Now, both Maureen and John are extremely above average on the awesome level. I'm talking about being off the charts. And, still, they respond to people on Twitter and YouTube and just put their influence to good use. They could be like RPatts and encourage their fans to destroy people they don't like, but instead, they raise money for things like ShelterBox and This Star Will Not Go Out.

Since my first signing, I've met Suzanne Collins, John Green, Billy Lombardo, David Levithan, and others. Every time I meet one of them, I am astounded at how relaxed they are. As if they don't realize how much we idolize them.

It's kind of crazy, but if I'm ever a published author, I hope I act the same way.

Wait, There's Horse and Buggies in the Future?

I tend to abuse the inter-library loan system for my college.
I guess it's really meant for students who are looking for books for academic reasons and can't find them at Benedictine. I use it for whatever reading I want that I can't find at Benedictine. It is rarely academic.

My boss encourages this, truthfully. We're both lovers of reading, which is why we work at a library, and constantly complain over what we can't find in our own college's collection.

I really didn't begin to abuse it until I saw how no one minded. My boss requested the Angel: After the Fall series for me, showing me precisely how easy it was to request whatever book I wanted on a whim.

A few days ago, I asked for Do Android Dream of Electric Sheep, since I'm a Science Fiction junkie. It came in yesterday and I went missing from the interwebs to read it.

The book is the inspiration for Blade Runner, an awesome movie that everyone should watch. It's set in 2021. I love science fiction in general, so it's very unsurprising that I fully enjoyed this book.

I did, however, run into one interesting thing. My mind constantly glosses over pop culture references when reading realistic fiction. Usually, the setting is in the current time period, and I can understand exactly what they're saying. But I was awkwardly surprised to find some references in a science fiction book. Especially one that was written in the late sixties, while being set fifty years into the future.

They weren't obscure references at all. I came across a simple line on page 26, "Using a Kleenex, he dried his damaged arm."

Kleenex had been around since the 1920's and many Americans refer to any brand of tissue to be Kleenex, but it made me wonder about the word choice. How could Philip K. Dick have expected that Kleenex would still be around fifty years into the future? From my standpoint, he guessed correctly, since I can't see the brand diminishing during the next decade. Wikipedia is telling me that Kleenex is actually in the Oxford Dictionary, but I still wonder if it was when he was writing this, or if the word choice was a conscious decision.

This wasn't the last pop culture reference, either. On page 152, Dick mentions Bank of America. It had already been around for six decades when the book was published, so I guess it was reasonable to predict that it would be around for six more. But what if it hadn't? It is such a vague name that even if it had gone out of business, the audience from future generations would have understood that it is a bank.

The last reference that I made a clear note of was one that I didn't recognize: Greta Garbo. After researching, she was an actress who died two years before I was born. Which would be mean that she would have died over a decade before the setting in this book. He used Greta as a comparison for how a certain character looked. Apparently it wouldn't have mattered if he left out her name, considering that the actress chosen to play Pris in the movie looked nothing like Greta Garbo.

I might be too critical. After asking Twitter if they knew who she was, most people two or more years older than I am knew who she was. My age and younger had no idea. Now, I forget if they mention the approximate age of Isidore and Rick are, but if they are older that 28, it seems reasonable that they would know the name.

It just makes me wonder, what do others think about using popular culture references in Science Fiction? Do they approve? Or disapprove?

Tweet Tweet

I was originally going to write today's blog about pop culture references in a science fiction novel that I'm reading. However, there have been some things that took precedence today.

I constantly marvel at how Twitter has changed my life. I've gotten actively involved in more things since joining Twitter. I reconnected with Bailey because of Twitter. I've been tweeted by authors, made new friends, and today, became a matchmaker.

Although Twitter has done some amazing things, like creating the Writer Girls Cause Chaos and our matching vlog, let's just focus on today's awesomeness.

Earlier this morning, Kelly needed to decide whether to have Wendy's or a bagel for lunch. Being that my tweeps and I are insane, Forest and I had a Rock Paper Scissor contest via Twitter to decide what Kelly would have for lunch. I won; she got Wendy's.

We were laughing about the ridiculousness of our lives when Mark and Megan started the adorable flirting they do on Twitter.

As usual, I got involved by saying what a cute couple they would make.

The next fifteen minutes were tweets from Mark, Megan, Forest, and I talking about them becoming a couple and all of us approving.

I can officially be called a matchmaker now that those two are in a nerdfighterlikeship.

This post is probably incoherent and ridiculous to most people who aren't on my Twitter feed. So, I encourage you to follow me on Twitter.

Because Twitter makes life more interesting.

Whoomp, There it Is!

I am a basketball fangirl.

I can't tell you how you get a touchdown in American football, or how long a baseball game lasts. But I can tell you anything you want to know about college basketball. Men's, of course.

My dad didn't get into basketball until he was in his senior year of high school. He'd moved to another city for his last year and only connected with a few of his classmates. Like me, he was graduating a semester early, so he had no reason to get to know these people for just a measly four months.

Still, he came close to one kid who would drag him to Freedom Hall to watch the Louisville Cardinals play. My father fell for the team fast and that is the team he is dedicated to today. And this makes November to April Basketball season in my house. If there is a game being played, we were watching it.

My sister picked Memphis as her team after winning a bracket contest when she was young. My brother was addicted to basketball since he was small and ended up playing more than watching. His team is Michigan State.

I never got into basketball, until I was in my preteens. I mean, I played on a basketball team in elementary school, but looking back, it was because my parents were going through their first separation and I thought it would make my dad happy. Finally, during the second separation, I won. I won my bracket with the Kansas Jayhawks and got to laugh at my family, who had made fun of me for picking them. They became my team.

Now, I have three teams. Living in New York, I don't get to see a ton of Kansas games before March starts. The Big East is broadcast throughout my home, so I have my BE team: Notre Dame. Basically, it's to piss off all of my family who hates them.

Last year, I adopted my final team.

My dad's dream was to go to a Final Four. I managed to hit a great year to apply for tickets. Because of the recession, there were not as many people willing to throw down the $360 to get into the raffle for NCAA Final Four tickets. I was only sixteen, probably not even legal to have done it. The internet hasn't yet found a way to prevent underaged kids with debit cards from buying stuff they shouldn't be allowed to.

The guys at work laughed at me, my brother laughed at me, my father laughed at me. They all said I wouldn't get those tickets. When the small, one page letter came in August, months after I'd submitted my information in March, I assumed it was to tell me I lost. I was wrong. I was getting two tickets to the Final Four. Not the best seats, by far, but not in front of the television either.

I had been walking to work when I read the letter. I ran home immediately, screaming, "Daddy!" He thought I was hurt. He really didn't react when I handed him the letter. He was too stunned. My mother tells me that he immediately began planning, searching hotels and the like, while I was at Rite Aid.

The next April, my dad and I took a road trip to Indianapolis. We stopped at Niagara Falls, too. We went to Ruth Chris. We went to the games. And we fell in love with the Butler Bulldogs.

It was impossible not to. I mean, the stadium was only seven minutes away from their campus. It was an amazing feeling, having nearly everyone in town be happy to see the Bulldogs there. It helped that my sister's roommate, Missy, loves Duke. I would have loved to see the Bulldogs take them down.

This year has been different. I haven't gotten to have my half a year worth of basketball. I've gotten clips and snatches and scores during classes. I got to go to a tiny bit of my sister's March Madness Party. But I've missed a lot more.

Butler is in the Final Four again. I was on the train, just barely, when they beat Florida. It was the only good news I had to hold on to. VCU beat Kansas, but that's okay, for once.

Now it's the day of the first two games of the Final Four. I'm in my Butler Bulldogs tshirt from Walmart in Indianapolis. Watching VCU and Butler trade points back and forth.

It's just not the same when I'm not home.

Hello, April. I've Been Expecting You.

Welcome to April, guys.
While April isn't my favorite month, I'm certain that it will be better than March. Better than February, at least.

I have a few things going on during April.
Beyond irregularly ridiculous amounts of work to do for classes, I'm adding in a lot of extra activities.

Accio Books has been extended through April this year, meaning I have another month to collect books!
I talked the some of the other New York Chapter Organizers today and they're going to be sending members towards my Chapter, since I'm closer now. We're at 67 books and I hope to hit 125 by the end of April!

Bailey is going to be hosting some Doctor Whothons leading up the the beginning of Series Six. My dorm room doesn't get BBC America, so I'll be trying to find it online ASAP. I can't believe I'm missing my Doctor Who.

I'm putting myself on a book buying ban. I have a tendency to buy impulsive books while at Barnes and Noble. The only books I'm allowing myself to get this month are:

Physical Copies:
Sean Griswold's Head
Rival

Nook Copies:
City of Fallen Angels
Red Glove
Last Little Blue Envelope

Anything other than that has to come from a library!

Finally, with the end of 30 Days of Vlogging, I'm starting BEDA. For those who aren't familiar with that, it stands for Blog Every Day in April! I'm going to have some topic days, some rant days, and just random days of rambling.

I hope you stick along for the ride.

Can We Stop for Chillzones Now?

I'm not looking forward to this.

As it is, I can barely bear to write a post about it, much less go through with getting on the train in eight hours. 

I don't like trains. People attempt to sit next to me, I always forget to bring a blanket, and by the time I get off in Chicago, I look horrid and greasy. Seriously, my hair ends up rivaling Severus Snape's. 

And despite all of that, I know that there is no way for me to get out of this. I have to survive the next seven weeks in Illinois before I can come home. Before I can get engaged. Before I can be happy once more.

I can't stay in this self-pitying state for too much longer. I'll allow myself the train ride to pout and sulk, but then it'll be done. I promise to make the best of it.

There are glorious things happening between the many assignments I have to do, anyway. 

Red Glove, City of Fallen Angels, and Last Little Blue Envelope come out while I'm in Illinois. 

It's sunny out, so I should be able to go down to Naperville and get a few signed books while I'm there. 

Doctor Who Series 6 premieres and I might get a chance to watch it online, since the dorms probably don't have BBC America. 

I'm doing a pact with Dani to study the Bible at least four hours a week.

I'll be okay. 

I just have to remember that, when I'm sitting there wanting to be home.

Ew. Homework.

Today started out fantastically. Maureen Johnson mentioned me in her blog post. The HPA emailed me back about making my Chapter official. Knightley Academy came in the mail.

Then, stupidly, I looked at the next ten days in my academic life. I found: two quizzes, three tests, two papers, and two speeches. I don't want this to remain scary, so let's break this down.

Quizzes

1.) March 7, 2011 - Political Science. 10 multiple choice questions. Already prepared for. He used tricky questions, that a lot of people protested against. Most likely got an 80. Boo.
2.) March 16, 2011 - Writing. It's on "Real Women Have Curves." I'll read that on 3/15 so that it is fresh in my memory.

Tests

1.) March 8, 2011 - Biology. 50 questions. I'll review tomorrow morning from 12 - 1 pm.
2.) March 16, 2011 - Political Science Midterm. I've heard it's tough. I will update when I have more information about what it's on.
3.) March 17, 2011 - Literature 100 Midterm. See # 2 and repeat.

Papers

1.) March 9, 2011 - Writing. Poetry explication. She's seen my rough draft and loved it. Will finish that morning. 3-5 pages.
2.) March 10, 2011 - Literature 100. Poetry Form. 4-5 pages. Will write on 3/8, then have Dani edit that night.

Speeches

1.) March 10, 2011 - Literature 291. Have to read my story aloud at Krasa Fireside. Story is written. Need to practice.
2.) March 16, 2011 - Speech 110. On Origami Fortune Tellers. Will do this weekend.


Much less scary after I've done this.

My Big Sis

I know for a fact that my biological sister is always going to be there for me. She's also thirteen years older than me with an opposing personality. We love each other because we are blood, but I highly doubt the fact that we would be friends in any other circumstance. None the less, I mean nothing against her when I say that my other older sister is my true role model.

I met Bailey when I was a freshman in high school. It was in a chat room that provided wordwars for people competing in National Novel Writing Month. At the time, she called me Heaven, while I called her Lassie because of our screen names. There were four of us who got along splendidly: Bailey, Becca, Josh, and me. Becca, Bailey, and I quickly formed a sisterhood called the Devlin Sisters and were joined by Bailey's roommate, Pamela.

Now, four years later, I'm a freshman in college while Bailey applies to grad schools. Over time, we've lost Josh, Becca, and Pamela, but have remained close to each other. I can sincerely say that Bailey has impacted me like no other.

While two others in our group provided themselves as warnings rather than guidance, Bailey remained a true role model throughout. She gets involved whenever possible, pushes herself to the limits, and is generally an amazing person. She has made the transition from late teenager to young adult look smooth and easy, when I know well that it never is.

If I have one goal in life, it is to be as awesome as Bailey Kelsey. Because she is literally the most fantastic person I know. She has inspired me to do more with my life than just get by. I just forget to remind her as much as I should.

Love My Life

Today has been spectacular.

There's really no other word to describe it. Well, magnificent could work. I guess. But you're just being nitpicky now.

Wednesday night, a coworker asked to switch a shift with me. My 9-1 Saturday morning for her 1-5 Saturday afternoon. Meaning, I didn't have to wake up until ten thirty and could lounge around. Which is exactly what I did.

My stomach finally demanded I get up, continuing this wonderful morning. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remembered that we had Thin Mints in the freezer. Yeah, they're gone now. So is the Spongebob Easy Mac that made my lunch so marvelous.

Still, the best had yet to come. I went to work, immediately logging on to Twitter. Laura, Kelly and I started to chat about Sean Griswold's Head by Lindsey Leavitt. We'd all just gotten signed bookmarks in the mail from her, so we were discussing potential uses and how awesome her book is. That's when the best thing happened: Lindsey tweeted us back. She started by telling Kelly and I that she liked us. Then followed it up by offering more bookmarks if needed to Laura and I, who work in libraries. I couldn't keep the smile off of my face. I love it when author's tweet back.

After that, I remembered that March is Accio Books and went to scan through our book sale materials. I was glancing through a mystery novel, making sure there was no sex scenes because I'm sending this to a primary school, and found 35 forever stamps. As a college kid far away from home, that is gold. I printed out letters to all of the Writer Girls Cause Chaos and mailed them out, along with a letter to my guy.

Some days just make the rest easier to live with.

Want a Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean? It Tastes Like Failure

I was always raised to pay for things myself.

Don't take that wrong, I didn't have to pay rent at 14 or buy my own Christmas gifts. But extraneous bills for stuff that I wanted were to be my responsibility.

So, at age 13, I bought my first pay-per-minute cell phone and paid with babysitting money every month.

At 16, I got a job and was able to support my social life, cell phone, and anything luxurious that I wanted.

Last semester, I tacked on 600 bucks every six months for car insurance, and 60 bucks a month for loan payments.

This semester, I have 45 bucks a month for cell phone, 400 every six months for car insurance, and 120 for loan payments. Add in having to pay for transportation from Illinois to New York, and my bank account is nil.

My parents took off a major cut of my loan payment this semester. It was 400 naturally, they knocked off 100 after I lost ten hours at work due to snow days. Then Dad knocked off another 50 today. I should feel lucky. I should, and am, thankful. But mostly, I feel like a failure.

I hate not being able to support myself. I cried when Dave paid for my cell phone this month. It makes me feel worthless. It makes me want to stop attending college and go to technical school to get a high paying job immediately. It just sucks.

So, I'm probably being ridiculous, but this is how I feel. Bills have become the bane of my life, as many others. I'm so happy I'm transferring to a cheaper school. One that won't rape my wallet.

Kenzie's List of Awesome

April is traditionally BEDA for a lot of my friends. Blog Every Day in April. Instead of doing that, Bailey and I decided to turn March into 30 Days of Vlogging, with a relaxation day at the end. I've come to adore vlogging within the short time that Writer Girls Cause Chaos has existed. It just adds fun into my life and I was eager to participate when Bailey suggested doing this yesterday.

When a friend of Bailey (scribbles5thm) posted a blog about how she's going to attempt to do a lot of things in March after watching Bailey's vlog, I started thinking. I can do more than just vlog in March. There are a lot of things that I need to catch up on.

So, here is my list:

1.) Make my bed every morning. I hate physically making my bed, but I love having my bed made. Just the neat and tidy look of all the sheets and blankets being folded puts me into a good mood. I'm skipping this for March 1st and starting tomorrow.

2.) Substitute a bottle of water instead of an Amp each day. I've become obsessed with the Amp Energy: Elevate (Mixed Berry flavor). They're so bad for you and put extra stress on your body that isn't needed at all. They make me super productive at work, but the damage probably isn't worth it.

3.) Of course, Vlog all thirty days. This should get hard during Spring Break, but I'll make sure to get it done.

and, finally,

4.) Read at least twenty pages of a novel each day. I did so well in January. I read seven or eight books. I fell during February. I was pulled into watching television shows instead of reading, something I don't want to make a habit out of. I'd like to go back to reading.

That's my list, guys. Keep me to it.

5 Things I Learned First Semester

I may not be blogging, but I am vlogging lately!

This is Why I Can't Room with Strangers

I am sick of my roommate. She wonders why she can't find anyone to room with her next semester. HA HA. WONDER WHY.

She has become the biggest Debbie Downer that I've ever seen. I want to get the little theme that plays on SNL when she comes on, just to play it when my roommate is being especially annoying. First sunny day of the season? It's obviously not pretty, just look at the mud. Awesome that they're serving pancakes at lunch? Off course not, her's aren't the exact shade of wheat. Great that we're having a snow day? Now she can't drive home.

C'mon, life isn't a damn misery for you, you little spoilt brat. Get over yourself.

Now, though, she's crossing the line.

I've dealt with her leaving the television on when she leaves the room and I'm still there, even though I don't have the remote and never watch my own television.

I've dealt with her randomly rearranging the room into the worst possible arrangements, even if she does it when I'm at work.

I've dealt with her moaning about missing her boyfriend when he's less than an hour away, when mine is sixteen hours from here.

I've dealt with her ignoring the fact that I use headphones whenever I watch television online, a concept that she will never grasp.

I've dealt with helping her with homework for months.

I can't fucking stand her touching my stuff too. If we had previously agreed that it was a shareable item, I wouldn't mind. Television, microwave are cool for her to touch. Just like I use her printer and fridge. But lately, she's been crossing the line.

The other night, I came home to lights around our room. Meaning that she'd climbed all over my bed to hang them. I can deal with that, even though my laptop is always on my bed and I'd rather her keep a five foot radius from it.

Then my nightstand, which happens to be near her since she rearranged, had all of my stuff pushed into the drawers. Okay, moron, that stuff wasn't yours. That was mine. Why are you touching it?

Then my desk. I cleaned it this morning, only to find that she has raided my popcorn that I bought for movie night. No. Not shareable food. That's why it wasn't in the bin.

Finally, tonight, I notice my trashcan was touched.

Me: Were you under my bed?
Her: No.
Me: My trashcan was moved. (Obviously it was you, there are only two of us)
Her: I might have moved it.

Thank you for admitted you lied to me seconds before. Kindly stab yourself in the uterus so you can never spawn, and fail out like you're destined to do.

I'm happy you lost your job. I'm happy you can't find a roommate. You're intolerable. A spoiled brat. I'm so done with you.

Lowered Expectations are the Easiest Way to Contentment

Things in my life seem to be getting easier and harder at the same time.

My expectations have gone down considerably, but I really can't see that as a bad thing. My stress levels are no longer off the charts. I'd rather have that than unreachable standards any day.

My Political Science professor handed back our first assignment yesterday. One page, double spaced. He didn't bother to explain it to us, so it seemed like we were to summarize a news article and hand it in. Those who did just that received C's. As a Lit. major, I analyzed why the article was important and how it related to our class. I received a B and the comments: 'Decent analysis, but hated your writing style.'

Oh, really, now? C'mon, I know I'm not Dickins, but this is a Political Science class. I didn't have any spelling or grammatical errors. I don't care if you personally hate my writing style. That is not what this class is about.

I'll talk to him about it tomorrow. I'm hoping it will be on the fact that my paragraphs were shorter than they could have been. If it's anything else, I'm going above his head. It's ridiculous to scam me out of a grade just because you dislike the way I express my writing. I don't appreciate e.e. cummings as I should, but I don't refuse to do my assignments concerning him.

I have my first essay due in my Writ 102 course tomorrow. I have to clarify my thesis, add in my citations, and I'm set. I can analyze. Grasse seems set on giving us personal time to talk to her about our papers. I loved that with Kauth last semester and I'm extremely grateful that Grasse chooses to do the same.

My test in Biology today was riddled with errors in the questions. About a 1/5 of the answers were wrong for the questions. I'm hoping the professor cancels that grade. It's not fair if he doesn't, considering the amount of leeway he'll have to give if he doesn't.

Beyond school, I'm working twenty eight hours this week. Work actually relieves me of stress. I can yell at people for being loud without getting yelled at myself. It's great.

Dave and I are fantastico. I'm working on a box full of gifts for him this March. The friends who have heard what's going in the box think it's marvelous, so that's great.

Things with my friends have settled down. Benca are dating now. They're utterly adorable. Sam is getting her life set before she moves on to another guy. I'm dealing with my roommate the best I can considering that she's Debbie Downer.

Life is good. I couldn't ask for better. Well, I could, but who would listen?

Oh, Man.

So, in five hours, it will be Valentine's Day. I'm currently torn between being utterly miserable and completely excited.

Those are two polar opposites and I just can't decide between them.

On one hand, my boyfriend absolutely loves me and he got me a necklace and a book for Valentine's Day. I picked out the book and he picked out the necklace. Both of them are ultra!fail, but that's beyond the point. If I was home, we'd be that cute couple that you just love to hate. And there is the problem. I'm not home.

Part of me wants to wallow in self pity because I'm sixteen hours away from Dave. I want Ben and Jerry's ice cream, sappy chick flicks, and my pajamas all day. I can't do that. I have classes. I'm even skipping one to pick up more hours at work.

Instead, I'm throwing myself into making things for my boyfriend that he'll get in March.

I've made him two mixed CDs.
I wrote him a Valentine's story starring the both of us.
I'm framing a picture of I Love You written in Binary.
I am making all sorts of odds and ends for him.
And I'm trying to find other stuff too, just to distract me.

I hope I don't break down tomorrow.

February: The Month of Evil

Many things have happened in the last few weeks. Most importantly, I lost my Google password and had to get a new one. I didn't abandon you. My password abandoned you.

So, life hasn't been absolutely rainbow and puppy dogs like last semester. Somehow I'm already a third through my second semester and I feel like I have no grades. That being said, I feel like I'm doing worse because I have nothing to base my achievement on.

Beyond that, I've been falling into a depression. I don't want to be here and it's obvious to everyone around me. Well, except for my roommate who keeps insisting that she "shares my pain", despite her living only forty minutes away. But everyone else sees it. My parents, my friends, my professors, my employers, and my poor pair of sweatpants know that I'm utterly despondent.

Mostly it is to be blamed on the month of February. February is a terrible month, you see. It hold Valentine's Day, Dave's birthday, and our anniversary all within two weeks. Along with that, it's the month that I have to pay my car insurance, cell phone, and loan payments. I'm confronted with two huge problems: Money is extremely tight, totally robbing me of my sanity. I'm lonely to the point where I write random lines in my journal.

The latest: My wire DNA is rusting. I feel like that should be analyzed. As someone afraid of death, I like to pretend I'm made up of machinery and gears, so that I don't feel so fragile. So, the worst thing that could potentially happen to me is rusting. Kind of emo. Very emo. Oh, Gosh, do you see what February is doing to my brain?

Please leave, February. I dislike you.

:)

GeekyGryffindork: Hahahah
GeekyGryffindork: Dave, do you remember that place from when you were a child?
IsoDavonix: Yes...
IsoDavonix: *cries* there were wolves everywhere
GeekyGryffindork: aww. and your mommy and daddy came and saw you and went. HEY. I ALWAYS WANTED A PET MONKEY.
IsoDavonix: well youve never seen a naked baby picture of me. 


Yeah, you can totally tell we love each other.

Bills, Chills, and OH MY GOSH REALLY?

There is more good news in my life!

I am PREGNANT.

Okay, maybe not. But now that I have your attention, I can continue.

 In Kenzieopia, money isn't a concern. She spends without thinking on ridiculous things that retain her interest for only five minutes. 

However, Kenzieopia was recently corrupted. I was forced to come back to the real world because I am an adult. And as an adult, I have bills that need to be paid. Horrible things, those bills. They fly around my head, screeching like Howlers until I give up and surrender my money. It's like being mugged every month.

I was looking at giving my cellphone up in favor of paying my six hundred car insurance payment. Let me remind you, this is for a car that is in New York while I'm in Illinois. You can imagine my resentment about paying it, but that doesn't mean I can skip.

Along with that, I now have a monthly $120 payment for student loans. Sixty more than what it was last month. Still, it can't be helped. 

Alas, I was biting my nails hoping that I'd just barely be able to pay all of this month after a month vacation. Good fortune struck via my mother becoming old!

Yes, my mother is now old. That old where you're still considered to be a safe driver, but very close to the old where you need to get tested again. The old where your car insurance drops two hundred dollars. The old where your daughter thanks you for this, but you don't remember five minutes later because you may be going senile.

Now, this good news benefits a lot of people other than I. First, this means that my boyfriend is getting a Snorlax Beanbag Chair for his Birthvalenversary. Custom made, might I add.

But, dear readers, this benefits you too! I'm going to at least one book signing in February and getting a spare book! I'll be having a contest where one of you will win said signed book! And all will rejoice in Kenzieopia. 

:)

Professors and Fragments

To Clarify, the last post was everything running through my mind while I sat on the train.

Now, to move on.

I've survived my first week of second semester well enough. I'm deep into assignments already and wishing that it was less than eight weeks before Spring Break.

Here's the breakdown of my professors:

Speech 110: MW at 9:30 am. Originally my professor came off as someone who is going to be a tough grader and ridiculously hard. I'm reconsidering now. We certainly have a lot of points at stake, but I don't think that she'll take points off for my inarticulate bumbling through the first two speeches. She's super peppy, something that I don't admire during my only morning class. I was there early and caught it when she had to erase her Mrs and put Ms. Along with the fact that she's totally abandoned caring that her hair is two different colors, I've deduced that she's probably going through divorce. I predict a hefty breakdown mid-semester.

Writing 102: MW at 3 pm. Blonde, tall, and lean. She tries way too hard to come across as cool, attempting to tell us that she knows that we never read and have no idea what literature is. Instead, she comes off complete patronizing. That's just to me. The guy behind me who thought that Shakespeare is a title and not an author obviously makes her point. She's more than willing to help look at papers before hand and I heard she is not a tough grader. Kept mentioning that we can't have spelling and grammar mistakes. I had to stop myself from laughing since her syllabus was filled with them.

Political Science: MW 4:15 pm. He seems nice. I seemed like I was on drugs. Could not concentrate during his class and acted like I was on speed. It won't be hard to get an A in there, but I really haven't judged his character yet.

Genetics: TR 1:30 pm. Old man comes in dressed in jeans and tshirt. Hasn't taught in 6th years. Has decided that this is now an ethics class and fuck science. None of us are science majors, so who cares? His goal is to get us screaming at each other and yearning for blood. Makes comments on sex life of students regularly. Is absolutely amazing.

Literature 100: TR 3 pm. Ah, Amir. I'm terrified of him because I admire him. I've heard he's a tough grader, but more than willing to come and help you out if you ask. Is constantly in the library and best friends with my boss. Has gotten me to switch majors. Will probably be my advisor.

Well, that's the list, guys. Let's hope this goes smoothly.

Brain Vomit

I don't know if that's necessarily true; I don't remember anything before three years old, but I really doubt that I have been. My family stopped moving around as much a few years before I was born. I kind of wish I had been on a train before this. It would have eased the butterflies that filled my stomach while I waited.

I'm really surprised at the lack of security. I mean, you need to basically have a DNA test to prove that your license is in fact you to get on an airplane these days. I just handed them a piece of paper, they tore it, and I boarded the train. Sat where I wanted. No bag checks, no pat downs, no inappropriate groping that goes along with flying. I suddenly remember why I chose to take the sixteen hour train over the new TSA rules. Well, there was also the giant gap in prices, but you get my point.

I didn't cry when leaving this time. I need to cry. This week has been Hell on the emotions. I'll break down in Illinois. No need to put that stress on Dave when he's been so good with me this week.

I guess I should fill you in, since I haven't posted in awhile. I got the phone all from Pennsylvania last night. Pap died around 11:30 pm, January 15. The family was going through pictures when they called. I wish I was there. Mom had called me hysterically crying, wanting to hear my voice, just hours before. It's never like that. It was terrifying.

Mom made excuses for me not being there to Pap. Made excuses to Zak, too. Maybe I'm too judgmental, but he should have been there. He could have gotten the time off. He has over four thousand in savings, since the baby isn't coming. I think I'm just slightly mad. I would have gone if I could. I wasn't allowed to because it would have been impossible for me to get to Illinois and catch up on everything if I skipped the first week and a half. But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm missing my grandfather's funeral. I feel terrible and there is nothing that can be done to change it.

I lied. I'm probably going to break down on the train and freak out all of the passengers who are sitting nearby.

Dad and Missy left Thursday morning. Dad misses me like crazy. We both hate the fact that I have to go back. It's just not fair. There is no way I can do another semester at Benedictine after this. I can't keep leaving. It's too hard.

Sam came over to distract me with Burger King and Doctor Who on Thursday night. We slept in my parents bed and probably made a mess. I doubt I'll get in trouble for it, though. Too much going on for them to get mad at me.

Dani emailed me my schedule, giving me twenty hours a week because she rocks. Another girl, Geenu, only had seven and a half. She asked for my two hour shift on Thursdays. I gave it to her. I know what it's like to be making such a small amount of cash. I called Dad to let him know before I did it, though, so he'll understand when I'm a few dollars short of my insurance payment next month. Or three days late.

I stayed at Dave's Friday and Saturday night. I'm happy I did. I finally loosened up around his dad. His dad is really critical of him. Some of it I can understand, but I wish he'd do it in a way that would offer encouragement rather than condemnation. I've only been on the train for an hour and I already miss him so much. How am I going to get through the next nine weeks?

His dad mentioned me and Dave getting a place together after he graduated. Nothing could have made me happier. A year ago, Dave's mom was insisting that it was a mistake that Dave was buying me a prom ticket because we might break up. Now they're accepting that Dave and me are going to be together, if not forever, for a long while. I think mostly they just use me for a motivational tool, though. “Dave, if you don't get good grades, you and Kendra won't be able to afford a place together!” It's alright. As long as I'm accepted, I'm happy.

I've been avoiding calls from a venue I was looking at for the wedding. They always call at the most inopportune times. The first, when I was at the bank signing papers for my student loan and then the second time while I was in the car preparing to leave New York for this train.