Our little Country Home

Went back to West Virginia to see the family this summer for a little while. Got this sketch in of our little country home in Braxton. Such a beautiful, secluded, peacful place.

The Roommonster Era Comes to a Close

Okay guys, I know it's been a while since I've posted but calm down. I'm alive and well and I finally finished this Spring Semester so you have my full attention. Also, I dyed and cut my hair so I somehow got even BETTER looking since last time we spoke. So that's something.

Anyway, The funny thing about people is that no matter how much you might try to leave them, they rarely actually disappear from your life. When I moved out of the dorms and officially stopped living with my roommonsters about 12 days ago, I assumed the year and the nightmares that came with it would all vanish into thin air. No more talking about, thinking about, or living with the memories of the time of my life that will henceforth be referred to as The Roommonster Era. Unfortunately, as busy as I've become with my summer tutoring job and exciting MIB training with Adrian, I'm still a bit fixated on my time in the suite with the "roomies." In fact, saying I'm a bit fixated is a gross understatement. So I thought and I thought with my attractive new hair about how one might go about moving on and letting go. I came to the conclusion that I'm lacking what one might call "closure" and it's time to get me some of that wherever it is. Might as well start with some list making, because that's what all the adults do in the voice over part at the end of movies where they summarize thier experiences and why it all mattered.

Here's what I've taken from this years experiences. The good and the bad.

1. If I never see, hear about, or come into contact with a minion related ANYTHING from Despicable Me, I will be a happy and content individual. There were WAY too many minion references and paraphernalia in that suite considering most of them were between the ages of 23-25 years old.
2. My room mates were all older than me, and half of them were Child Development majors. They sounded like they should have been ATTENDEES at a child development center rather than employees. This was a red flag, and I should have picked up on it from the beginning. I've got to be more aware!
3. Cleaning is important. It's that simple. I don't want to live with strangers who can't clean up after themselves. 
4. Loving yourself is even MORE important. Turning to others for constant validation and support isn't a healthy behavior. On top of that it's annoying. Having lived with four people who didn't love themselves and looked to each other (as well as me) to love themselves for them I can say first hand how ineffective and unrealistic that expectation is. 
5. Emotions are exhausting and completely necessary, but being OVERLY emotional is counterproductive. Group crying on the kitchen floor about your childhood on a regular basis is an excellent example of that concept. I learned that I'm not the most emotionally healthy and emotionally intelligent person on this planet, but I was definitely more emotionally prepared than I originally thought before moving into the dorms. 

There I did it. It's done. I may not have found closure but I made a list and I'm now one list closer to closure than I was before. Trying saying "closer to closure" 5 times fast eh? Hopefully I can cry a river, build a bridge, and get the hell over it SOON for the sake of myself and the well being of my relationships with others. For now, I'll try and focus on more interesting things, like being a tutor and training to be a man in black!

As I mentioned before Adrian is working on MIB training with me. We call it MIB training because calling it "exercise" is way less fun and inspiring. I've also always assumed since childhood that Tommy Lee Jones would eventually show up at my door step and whisk me away to New York where we would practice intergalactic law enforcement together. So it all works out in the end. And Tommy, if you're reading this, we still have time to make it work. I'll accept Will as a replacement, but it just wouldn't be the same. Besides, I'm still waiting on Will to show up so we can go defeat Dr. Loveless in the wild wild west. But I digress. 

We've had two MIB training sessions so far. So far I think we are managing it pretty well. Only a tiny bit of arguing but even that has gotten significantly better since session one. Guys, we are totally crushing it. I'm pretty proud. I'm super sore because I take the "no movement is good movement" approach to down time. It's been worth it though. Definitely building up some muscles that have silly names that sound made up. 

Overall, this summer is panning out to be one interesting and fulfilling new era. Employment, MIB training, new ginger hair. Let's see if I can keep this going.

Until next time, I'll leave you with this exceptional photoshop job of my new hair and elf sized adrian on my shoulder. Yeah guys, I totally understand the internet now.

Mom Raised me to Love Myself, Good One Mom!

Guys, I just have a lot of things to say today. But the most important thing I have to say is thank you Mom, for raising me to love myself.

I know I had a different blog post planned out for today but I have a lot of things to say about this letter I've been reading for weeks and I just can't keep it contained any longer. For weeks I've been reading this blog post written by blogger Brett Shoemaker called "To My Future Wife". I've read 20+ of my friends (males and females) praising this post as an example of romance, love, and being a "real man," whatever that's supposed to be. I'm not here to point fingers or shame anyone for their beliefs, but in all those posts by friends I never saw one that made an effort to question what this guy was really saying and how he was choosing to say it. I know some people will read his letter feeling uplifted and hopeful, and I'm not saying those people are wrong for feeling that way. I just know that I left read the letter he wrote to his "future wife" feeling patronized. I didn't see singing birds flying around my dorm room as I clasped both hands thinking Someday my prince will come with glimmer in my eyes and hope in my heart. I saw an archaic and (in my opinion) naive sense of reality and relationships and a blogger holding a list of cliches about what women want to hear and how women feel.

Now maybe this guys future wife will fit the strangely specific mold of a woman who meets all the gender box norms. Maybe this letter will be relevant to her and who she is as a person. And I know this letter is exceptionally relevant and moving to some people. But for me, and for many women like me, this letter didn't hold the weight it was intended to hold. It produced the opposite reaction it was meant to produce. It produced frustration. It produced frustration because my mother raised me to love myself, have high self esteem, and to NOT wait for some Knight in shining armor to come rescue me from a tower. While some mothers were socializing their children into gender norms, my mother was raising me to question why those norms exist and to recognize that those norms don't bind me. She was raising me a feminist, and I will eternally be grateful for that. But more importantly, she raised me to love myself and have impeccable self esteem. THAT is something I will spend the rest of my life trying to do for others. It is something I'm so thankful my mother did for me.

This letter was a veiled attempt at expressing his views on who women are. I don't claim that he did this entirely aware, but his message of loving yourself and seeing yourself as beautiful wasn't his main point. He spent more time stereotyping women than actually addressing who women are. His "future wife" was a very specific type of woman, yet it seemed as if the post was meant to encourage women as whole. That's how it's being pushed around online anyway. And he spoke to many of the stereotypes of what a woman is. There are so many types of women and so many perspectives, its a shame to try and explain women in one way. And to address women as if they meet that specific mold is nonsensical. 

First he congratulated his future wife on already being beautiful. He made some nice points about beauty not being about what you put on in the morning. This alluded to inner beauty, beauty in the person you are as a whole. This is so excruciatingly important, and I'm happy he mentioned it.I just appreciated the fact that he mentioned the idea of beauty from the inside. I think men as well as women tend to forget that this exists occasionally. 

I believe that there are many types of beauty. Now before you start messaging me about how you totally agree and that beauty isn't external, read this next part. I acknowledge that physical beauty and attraction does have its importance in my life. I believe in external beauty, and I think it's hard for us some people admit that physical attraction is important because the expressor of this opinion is often labeled superficial. This is a lie, and I don't buy into it. Physical attraction is a part of nature. Animals have it, and so do we. Now what attracts me is probably different from what attracts other people, but it's real and its a part of me. I value that. You can value physical attraction while also valuing inner attraction as well. I have a strong value of both, but because inner beauty tends to get a little less air time it was nice to see he mentioned it in his post.

He cited the societal pressure and message of not being good enough, and tells his wife that she's beautiful and to not believe society. That's a sweet gesture. But did he consider that a lot of women have incredibly high self esteem?  Did he consider that his future wife might not need to rely on his reassurances that she is beautiful, because her self esteem is tied to herself and not on the validation of others? If you (like me) read the letter from a perspective of high self esteem and self worth you might have read it feeling patronized and talked down to. Yeah kid, I already know I'm beautiful. You don't gotta tell me. But thanks I guess. 

He also made a good point encouraging his future wife to feel free to grow to be a better, healthier and more confident person. I think its important that our loved ones encourage this and support this, but again I'm left feeling patronized. Oh thanks honey for giving me permission to better myself and grow more confident. I've just been twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to say it was okay. If you could see me, I'm rolling my eyes now. I feel like he meant well, but this just doesn't sit well with me. There are better ways to express this kind of sentiment. I doubt he meant it literally, but it's not like we hang out on Fridays or anything.

Now, where he really gets me is where he tells his future wife to keep her goodies in her basket. I mean REALLY could you be more patronizing? The sentence alone, "Babe, keep your goodies in your basket." makes me want to vomit. How disgusting. 

1) Don't call any part of a woman her "goodies" or "basket" 
2) DON'T tell women what to do with themselves or their bodies. 

But the paragraph gets worse. He then proceeds to compare women to cars, proclaiming that women who show their bodies off are like Honda Civics while women who grow up wearing a religious habit and never exchange them for some shorts and a tank top are like Lamborghini's. Guess I'm a Civic, which I guess equates me to big ol' whore. Ah damn! And I tried so hard! He said everywhere he goes he sees Honda Civics, but he can count all the Lamborghini's he's ever seen on one hand. 

3) Women are NOT cars.
4) If a woman chooses to show a little skin that doesn't make her less unique, exciting, or valuable.

I mean I love R. Kelly's "Ignition Remix" but if you call my vagina an ignition I will personally see to it that your "key" wont work. And I'm sorry, but this guy obviously doesn't understand cars either, Lamborghini's are way more sexualized than civics. 

To put the patronizing icing on the towering cake of misogyny, he finishes off the paragraph with baby talk and asking for a favor, "But, if everyone and my mom has a look at everything you're showing off, I'm not feeling like as much of a lucky ducky. So please, for me, keep your goodies packaged away."

He moves on to tell his future wife that she is a princess worth fighting for. "You know, the princess you always wanted to be as a little girl?" he continues. Oh please! It's like this kid has been calling that totally real Gender Box Anonymous hotline Room mate C is so hooked on. Where did he learn about women? It seems like his perspective is so limited and specific to the inaccurate portrayals of women on "family friendly" networks like ABC family and its original movies and TV shows. Here's my beef, we don't all want to be princesses. We didn't all grow up wearing pink and fantasizing about Prince Eric. Some of us wore bandannas and overalls and pushed our 4th grade boyfriends over for suggesting we wear more feminine attire (that was me folks, and if Cory McKenzie ever reads this, no hard feelings). 

At this point in the letter he makes a "deal" with her saying that if she is a princess she has to act like a princess. He says that she needs to make him work for it, because princes have to rescue the princesses by crossing treacherous lands and fighting in battles and slaying the dragons. He says "Your prince charming isn't going to fight to take your purity, he is going to fight to protect it." 

At this point I vomited in my mouth a little. Honey, I don't need you to protect my purity. I'm the dragon you're going to fail to slay before you piss your armor and run away. And I'm not looking for some silly prince or knight. I'm looking for an equally impressive and bad ass dragon to fly around with who can handle this heat. 

5) A lot of women don't need you to protect their purity. They got it covered. 
6) Assuming makes and ass out of you, NOT me.

In my opinion, relationships should be equal. Both people should both be working towards each other and a healthy happy relationship with one another. I don't want some guy who wants to put all the effort in while I wait for it to work out. I know I'm worthy of the effort, I don't need to be told how worthy I am. But I want the person I'm with to know they're worthy of the effort as well. And trust me, my future husband will be worthy of the effort because my standards are where they should be. 

He then calls his relationship with his future wife a fairy tale. Yawn, gag, I'm over it. but he makes some good points. He says that sometimes he will make mistakes and sometimes she will make mistakes. He references the realities of the relationship for what I perceive as the only time in the whole letter. He takes his focus off of gender stereotyping and puts it on how they operate as a dyad. Unfortunately it doesn't happen until the end of the letter, but hey it's something. Then he signs it Prince Charming.

Once he finished the letter he showed a lot of grace and humility by adding a little bit at the end. "Also, I am thankful for some of the critique I have received from both men and women around the world. It is always a blessing to hear another's perspective and I am thankful people felt the freedom to stand up and call me out on some of my beliefs. You guys are awesome, thank you so much!" That in itself is pretty admirable. It can be hard to take critique from others, especially over the internet, and especially when it comes to personal beliefs and view points. So good on him.

But it's this kind of conversation and topic that makes me worry for my future daughter or son. I just hope I have the skill my mother had while raising me so that I can instill in my future children a sense of self love and high self esteem. I just hope I can teach my daughter to be wary of letters like this, and my son NOT to write letters like this. 

Just Because it Smells Clean Doesn't Mean it IS Clean.

Guys, I have a lot to say today. Just bear with me. Room mate A and I share a bathroom unfortunately. We have a cleaning schedule and everything. It's on our wall and I even made it into a pretty neon poster. We agreed to the terms of our cleaning duties and schedule at the beginning of the semester because she just couldn't handle uncleanliness. I've been noticing since last semester that Room mate A doesn't actually follow the cleaning schedule. And she uses the term "clean" very loosely. She writes "Cleaned Bathroom" on the board on her door after throwing a little cleaning product down the drain so that it SMELLS clean but isn't actually clean. Here are all the bizarre ways this girl has tried to clean the bathroom in the past.

1) In the beginning of the semester she was cleaning the bathroom shower with the SAME mop she was cleaning the floor with. And she was using pine sol. PINE SOL! What the HELL is that? Who wants their bathroom smelling like pine sol and WHO cleans their shower with a mop? Not just ANY mop. Not a  mop specifically designated to the shower. THE SAME MOP SHE USES TO CLEAN MAC AND CHEESE OFF THE FLOOR OF THE KITCHEN!!! And she doesn't even rinse or sanitize the mop when shes done using it in the kitchen before putting it on the shower floor! When I found out she was doing this and did everything I could not to yell "EEWWW" in her face.

2) She switched to pouring pine sol on the surface of the shower and rinsing it by running water about mid semester. Mind you, I've been scrubbing our shower on my damn hands and knees like a PEASANT trying to keep stains from setting in. My mother will tell you I don't clean like that regularly. Seriously, if you ran into my mother right now and asked her "Hey, does Ashley clean the shit out of the bathroom on a regular basis at home?" She would laugh at you and say "Absolutely NOT!" and she might even throw in a little Appalachian twang because the question you posed was so funny she reached back into her roots and pulled it out. Guys, I'm downright disgusting. But a shared bathroom and a cleaning schedule devoted to the idea of not getting fined by the Housing Department seems like a pretty good reason to start cleaning properly. When I told Room mate A, "What you're doing isn't really cleaning, it's pouring" she switched tactics.

3) Her next approach was to do nothing while making it smell like she did something. She didn't have the courage to talk it out with me, and she wasn't trying to get back at me. If she was attempting that she would have just staged another coup in the living room. She just legit doesn't have any sense of cleaning skills and didn't feel like asking for help or talking about rearranging duties. She didn't touch the toilets at all, dust settled over each week she was in charge and water rings set in and made their home. She never bought the plunger even though she agreed to do so, instead she tried using the toilet brush to plunge. HOW IS THAT EVEN LOGICAL? You're just ruining the toilet brush I bought because of your cheap bastard ways! Her way of making the bathroom smell clean without actually being clean was to purchase air fresheners and pour cleaning product down the drain to get that nice pine fresh scent. 

4) Toward the end of last semester our shower was completely clogged because she never pulled her hair out of the drains and she was leaving particles of food and whatnot from the mopping method she used for months prior. I asked her to put in a work order and she finally did THIS semester. Then she stopped pretending to clean the shower all together.

I wouldn't mind all the grossness and whatnot if she didn't insist at the beginning of the semester that we have a whole organized cleaning schedule because uncleanliness in the bathroom is just such a huge pet peeve of hers. She's obviously a short annoying little lier because I'm disgusting but shes where disgusting things go to die. I haven't even touched upon the whole "Where's that smell coming from?" incident of Fall 2013. The stories too gross to even describe guys.

Now, this bathroom is the SAME bathroom we had a HUGE fight over last semester because she refused to clean it claiming that I unnecessarily cleaned it during her week, and that it wasn't her fault I can't keep track of when I'm supposed to clean the shower. She demanded that I clean the shower two weeks in a row because I was so irresponsible as to lose track of my cleaning schedule. I called BS because I knew it was my week. I verbally told her I was going to clean, to which she didn't say, "Oh I already cleaned it this was my week." AND I kept track on my own as to when I had last cleaned the bathroom. So she said it wasn't her fault. I didn't ask if it was her fault because franky I didn't care. I knew the bathroom was bothering her more than it was bothering me, so I responded to her "Not my fault" with a little Polish saying. "Not my monkeys, not my circus." (aka, not my problem SUCKA!) Needless to say it really hurt her feelings and we had to have a whole meeting about it, RA's and all.  

In short, everyone cried in the meeting but me, people described thier feelings and emotions and Room mate C ran away in the middle and it was all really dumb. Really dumb, but a super funny and entertaining story. I'll have to describe that whole incident in my next post. It would be an injustice to leave you without that experience.

I know I got a little off track, I just had a lot to say. The main point is, just because it smells clean doesn't mean it is clean. But I guess another worthy disclaimer is, don't handle people you can't respect the same way I do. It leads to some interesting stories but mostly avoidable trouble. Show some self restraint in a situation where you think the person across from you is a jackass sorry excuse for a person. Just walk away knowing that they suck, and that nothing you say to them will make them suck less. Seriously, do as I say, not as I do. Also, learn how to clean before you move away from home, people will like you more if you do!

50 Cent Iced Coffee and the Country Pop "Silent" Treatment From Hell.

Today was a great day. I got to discover and experience the 50 cent iced coffee in the book store. It was FANTASTIC. If your school doesn't have 50 cent iced coffee in the book store, I am truly sorry that you're missing out. Hopefully your school has something else really awesome and exciting to brag about. If  not, I've walked myself into an awkward corner and I apologize. Anyway, I made this discovery during my evening class. That means I drank said 50 cent iced coffee roughly around 6 or 6:30 pm. Now, I was the kid you probably knew growing up whose mother didn't let them drink mountain dew. I was a pretty active child anyway, and any extra energy would have thrown me into cardiac arrest. That on top of the fact that I gave up soda in December and have grown less and less tolerant of caffeine has resulted in my being jittery and completely EXCITED about everything at 11:30 pm. Good one iced coffee. Good one.

This energy has helped me finish several assignments early as well as produce a few little gems of artwork. For some reason tonight's muse is Ron Swanson. Ive drawn 3 Ron Swanson pictures in the last hour or so. Some would say I'm on a roll, I say it's a bit excessive. Either way I hope this energy passes soon. I don't want my sleep completely jacked up over this coffee; that would cause a latte problems (hey-oh!). Just a little coffee pun humor for you.

Anyway, here's one of my pictures from this evening. 

In other news, it's been fairly quiet on the room mate front. Well, other than the silent wrath of Room mate C. She's very upset with me and subsequently has chosen to NOT talk to me. It's been such a sweet relief! Honestly, girl tends to overreact. We once had a whole suite come to Jesus meeting (we have a lot of those here) and she ran away crying right in the middle of it. I mean, I would understand if everyone was ganging up on her threatening murder, but everyone was yelling at ME at the time. I think she's been calling that Gender Box Anonymous hotline too much honestly. Note: Gender Box Anonymous is a totally not imaginary hotline that people call to help them come to terms with, and hone their gender box capabilities. And by totally not imaginary I mean I just made it up right now. Room mate C seems to always be on the phone but it's never with her parents or her boyfriend. The totally nonfictional Gender Box Anonymous hotline is the ONLY possible explanation. They've been teaching her how to cook, sew, and cry endlessly. I blame Gender Box Anonymous for all of this.

Anyway, her silent treatment "punishment" has given me loads more time to work on my more important and relevant daily routines. Like sleeping, relaxing, doing homework, or doing my dishes without her complaining to me about a problem she created for herself. It's also amplified how annoying I think she is. See, I hear her voice a lot less, but when I do hear it I remember what was so irritating in the first place. This weekend Room mate C and Room mate D discovered that they just love country pop, and it was time they bonded over their mutual poor choice in music preferences. They stood in the kitchen together and sang a nice little diddy by Keith Urban. They sang it over, and over, and over again until I had to get the HELL outta Dodge. COME ON people, he's from New Zealand and he looks like Prince Charming from Shrek! WHAT is he doing singing ANY form of country music? Now, I know I'm being a little childish. And I'll admit I know very little about New Zealand. Everything I learned about New Zealand comes from Flight of the Concords, so I know my education in that area is slightly lacking. But that doesn't make his resemblance to Prince Charming from Shrek any less real. And that resemblance alone means he shouldn't be singing anything in the country music realm. I even made a little visual for you all to get a better idea of what I'm talking about.

Add some facial hair to Prince Charming and you got yourself a Country Pop "artist"

This man looks like he's never been hit in the face, and to me that means he has no business singing country music. Period. Sure, he has the history of alcohol abuse, but it just doesn't count in my eyes. Leave the genre to people who know how to treat it right Keith, and just go ahead and do pop music instead.

At the end of the day, I wish I'd known my room mates were so fond of country pop before I agreed to live with them. That alone would have raised enough red flags to convince me that this was not the suite to live in. But we persevere and grow and we learn that next time we live with strangers to NOT chose the room across from the kitchen where everyone gathers to cry and sing Keith Urban garbage.

The Brady Bunch Prepared Me For College, Good One Brady Bunch!

We had two fire alarms go off in the dorms Thursday. Not one, but TWO! Now I don't know about you, but that's just a little bit too much excitement for me in one day! Firetrucks came and EVERYTHING! The first alarm happened around 11 am. Those silly college students playing basketball indoors tripping sprinkler systems. I feel bad for them because it's kind of an embarrassing situation they got themselves into, but my inner Bobby Brady can't help but to scold, "Mom always says don't play ball in the house!" The accident had 16 students displaced because the water pressure from the sprinkler system shot a hole in two suites on two separate floors. Not to mention all of the innocent students got their belongings drenched in water. I mean really guys, you should have watched more Brady Bunch before living away from home. It would have totally helped to prevent this whole calamity. 

As fate would have it I was asleep when the alarm went off. Apparently the fire alarm Gods watch me and plan accidents around my building to prevent me from catching up on sleep. Every fire alarm in this dorm that wasn't a preplanned drill has woken me up mid-nap or while I was sleeping in. The first thing I did Thursday was roll out of bed trying to mutter profanity out of my half-asleep face before putting on my house robe. The second thing I did was scream the profanity once I made it out of my room because I was standing right under the screeching fire alarm. Those two extra inches I've grown since high school really made a difference in how close I am to the ceiling. I proceeded to exit the building muttering the same profane word over and over until I stood outside and awaited the news on what the fire alarm Gods concocted for me that day. 

After a decent amount of time passed and the excitement of the firetruck had worn off, new drama began its course. I watched as they called out the suite numbers of the students whose rooms had been destroyed. They all seemed so confused and nervous. I could almost see the thought bubbles above their heads. Did they find my space heater? Did I accidentally set the building aflame? Did my candle set off the alarm? Should I just go to bed before I come up with another clever idea to get myself killed... or worse, KICKED OUT! One of the girls seemed especially upset as she was informed that her suite had a gaping hole in it because some Brady in the dorm decided to play ball in the house and ruin her day. Sorry Brady kids, I know it was an accident but it doesn't make the truth less relevant.

Later that evening we had another fire alarm go off in the building.  I'm not 100% sure why the second alarm happened, but I suspect foul play amongst the elevators in the grand Game of Thrones/House of Cards thing they have going on. Bare with me, I'm going to go a little off topic so you can get some back story. You see, each semester the elevators start sparking and freaking out over a decent period of time. This can't simply be negligent upkeep or shotty workmanship. The ONLY reason for this has to be that either:

A) the elevators are at war amongst each other to win the title of King Elevator. 

B) One of the members of the Elevator Congress wants to be President Elevator, and is using politics and fast moving trains to push it's way to the top (metaphorically and literally the top floor).

Now even though the second fire alarm wasn't quite related to a Brady themed faux pas, it makes me wonder what was going on Thursday. Would the elevators have chosen to start their semesterly struggle Thursday had the Brady kids not set of the alarm first? Was this their first time playing ball in the house or did they have a history? It could have been any of us really. So many times I've watched my room mates throwing around the big bouncy ball they got from the store, and each and every time they get more and more rambunctious with it. Yet they judged and looked down on the Brady Kids in our dorm for being silly enough to set off the sprinklers. 

What's that quote from the bible, "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone" or something to that effect. I'm not religious, but it seems like a good rule to follow. I mean I wouldn't say playing ball in the house is a sin, but I think the overarching idea of not judging people seems fair. I obviously don't follow it on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't. And before disciplining the poor misguided Brady kids of the dorm did anyone bother to show them that episode to help them understand why we don't play ball in the house? Guys, I just have a lot of questions.

It was a really eventful and exciting Thursday. I did a lot of thinking, drawing, and observing on top of the whole double fire alarm situation. I'm happy the Brady Bunch prepared me for college in that I know not to play ball in the house. 

Hopefully we all learned from it and the construction going on in that wing doesn't create too much of a hassle. But for now, I'll leave you with this drawing.

Shrek Taught Me To Love Myself, Good One Shrek!

It may surprise you to know that I think about things outside of my current living situation, but I do. Shocking, I know! I can hear all of you gasping as you Macaulay Culkin your faces and wonder, WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO THINK ABOUT?! But every once in a while I have something genius to say outside of room mates, TV shows, and my ever growing awesomeness. Today, it's about how ever growingly awesome we ALL are. And no, that's NOT the same thing as me being awesome because ME is a unit in WE so there!

I was in bed trying to sleep last night when this thought came to me that really shouldn't have seemed as brilliant as it did. I thought to myself, The more time you spend worrying about what others think of you, the less time you have available to devote to worrying about what YOU think of you.  Well sleepy me was right, and she was looking extra beautiful and intelligent. See I've worked really hard to get to a point in my life where worrying about others isn't as much of an issue. If a stranger thinks I look bad, or do something stupid, it doesn't matter. Furthermore, If a friend thinks something negative for the most part I'm good with it. I've come to a point in my life where I don't worry about others opinions of me, and it's liberating.

Here's what I have to say to you. At the end of it all you have to be able to live with who you are and who you become. You and no one else! And not to go all "Ogre's are like onions" on you all, but it's true. We have layers, even us non-ogre types (though I can be an ogre in the morning). So what's the point in defining yourself over that top layer, fourth layer, or whichever layer you are currently worried about? If there's a layer that's been bothering you then you can work on it, but remember you got all those other awesome layers that are doing just fine! Your "problem" layers shouldn't define  you when all those other layers make you up as well. And if you're the one putting all the work into yourself and your problem layers, why should you care if a friend or random stranger thinks you aren't good enough? Can you even see all those great layers you got, or have you convinced yourself they don't exist? I think the secret we've been keeping from ourselves is that we ARE good enough. We can grown and change with time but at the end of the day we are good enough and we are awesome little onions... or ogres... or parfaits.

Another little secret we've been keeping from ourselves is that more often than not, people aren't really judging us. We are judging ourselves, while everyone else is too busy judging themselves to worry if we suck or not. 

People don't really tell us that we are good enough very often do they. I mean in a world like ours that is so keen on all the children getting trophies just for coming out and picking their noses on the bench, why aren't we so keen on reminding ourselves we're good enough? Is it that they're adorable little kids, and we are prone to protecting and nurturing their young bright needs? Is it that we think children's self esteem is important but adult self-esteem is silly? Have we simply abandoned ourselves in an attempt to save the young. Even airlines will tell you to put your mask on before assisting the child next to you, because if you can't breath how can you expect to help him swim ashore? When you feel good about yourself, you are more equipped to help the children in your life feel good about themselves. Model your self love, and they will follow in your foot steps. I'm fairly certain my genius runs out when it comes to understanding why we don't show the love for ourselves that we deserve. I simply don't get it at this point in my life. But here's what I do get: 

• I get that it's possible for us to improve and grow, and I get that it's important for us all to remember that growth and change can be beautiful valuable things. 
• I get that we are surrounding ourselves with criticism and negativity that stifles our knowledge of how awesome we already are. 
• I get that as a society we aren't even talking about how our weaknesses can be strengths. 
• I get that these are things our awesome society can improve upon. These are things I would say are our societies weaknesses as well as strengths.
  

If you are a sheep, you go ahead and really rock that sheep thing. Put on them hooves and sheep away! I'm completely serious despite my way of expressing myself. Sheep can be super useful. I wouldn't doubt it if at least once in human history someone has said, "Wow, I'm really thankful I had these sheep here. I wouldn't have been able to replenish the clothes I lost in that massive clothes fire otherwise! And wasn't it cool when the herd of sheep carried me out of the fire on their woolly little backs? Super awesome! Thanks sheep! I owe you my life!" ( or some other variation of that sentiment).

Now I struggle occasionally. I have moments where I have to put things on perspective to realize that I really like myself and it doesn't matter if someone I've met knows how cool I am. I have to remind myself that my awesome undiscovered crazy looking yellow spirit animal can be both my biggest strength as well as biggest weakness depending on how I choose to use it, and how I choose to learn from when I misuse it. But most of all I have to remind myself that I'm good enough as the crazy looking yellow undiscovered animal that I am.

Whether I'm struggling with my intelligence layer, or my physical appearance layer, or my talent layer, I approach it all the same way. I ATTACK my thoughts while my thoughts are attacking me. If I think something negative about my appearance, I counter it with a positive thought about my appearance. Then, I write it down and I put it up where I can see it every day, It serves to remind me that I've got awesome qualities. Awesome qualities that make me feel really good about myself no matter how down I am feeling.

I work hard, and I've overcome some impressive hurdles of my own. I manage to follow the code I've made for myself and I'm proud of who I am and what I do. One day I won't even have to work at it, I'll be so good at loving who I am that it won't take effort or reminders. I won't have to put up post-its that say "Nice thights!" or "Dat brain doe!" on my walls. It will be automatic, and it will be as beautiful as I am inside and out. That's my goal.

A tribute to my spirit animal.

Groundhog Day and the Kitchen Cry Fest of 2013

Day one of move in weekend last Fall I walked out of my room to take a leak and found four weeping adult women on the kitchen floor comparing childhood traumas. It's been like the movie Groundhog Day ever since. I imagine it wasn't very funny for Phil Connors as he experienced it in the moment either.  

You know Groundhog Day, right? Where Bill Murry plays a weather man living the same day over and over. He does everything he can to stop living February 2nd over and over, including kidnapping the ever fluffy and charming Punxsutawney Phil. Yeah, well I've been living a way less pretty and cinematic version of Groundhog Day since that moment I realized my room mates would never stop crying on the kitchen floor.

Anyway, the good thing about living with crazy people is that you get way more interesting stories out of it than when you live with sane and pleasant people. You learn and grow from it and gain all these valuable life lessons, which I will impart on this blog occasionally if I remember to. I can be scatter brained. You may rest assured knowing that you will definitely hear about the stories. If I could sing them to you I would, because I  have a beautiful singing voice the likes of which every Disney princess would hate me more than my room mates do out of pure and utter jealousy. And I could be over-exaggerating. After all it wouldn't be the first time my confidence level combined with my powerful imagination has lead me to believe I'm more extraodinary than I actually am.

Back to day one. I had to take a leak and I still hadn't emptied all of my boxes in my room, but I was making progress. I opened my door and before I could get down the hall to the toilet I was confronted with a very uncomfortable situation. Mind you, not one of us actually knew each other yet. We had exchanged very superficial text messages saying things like:

Room mate A: "I like pugs, do you like pugs?"
Me: "I have no opinion on the pug issue, but thats nice"

So there was no background between any of us to really justify having four women ugly crying on the kitchen floor in pools of mascara and snot. And when I say ugly crying I'm not calling names, I'm just saying this wasn't some glamourus movie version of female emotion where the nose gets a little red and a single tear flows down the acne free cheek. This was full on, I-just-watched-an-episode-of-greys-anatomy-and-I-can't-deal crying where you spoon feed yourself and cling to your comfort object as your face gets smushy and voilent red and you don't know which liquids are which and you realize YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE YOURSELF ANYMORE!

I get that sometimes we just gotta cry it out. Crying isn't a weakness, it's a skill really. It just seemed a little inappropriate amongst a group of strangers in a dorm while they compared really terrible, inconvienient personal histories like a dick measuring contest of emotion and turmoil. Here's a rough outline of how that night went.

Room mate A: "I was adopted"
Room mate B: "I'm deaf" 
Room mate C: "I'm blind" 
Room mate D: "I have trust issues" 
Room mate A: "I hate myself" 

The contest went on... for hours. And I just sat on the toilet devising a plan to sneak past them. This was pretty stupid of me. I mean a really dumb plan, because my room lies just across from the kitchen (not even a yard stick away) where they had morphed into a single human entity of sadness and bodily goo. By the time I realized just how naive my plan was it was too late. I reached my door to unlock it and retreat just as the four weeping heads turned to me for support and validation. I kid you not, it happened in slow motion and everything. 

I am really not that emotionally constipated, but my instinct was to pretend it wasn't happening and lock myself in my room while they judged me for my lack of participation in what I like to call the "Kitchen Cry Fest of 2013." I acknowledge it sounds very paranoid to imagine they were judging me or thinking of me at all while reliving all of thier former traumas and misgivings. Unfortunately, I'm not paranoid. Not even a month into living with them I had to have a come to jesus meeting over Room mate A's hurt feelings over my lack of emotional communication with her. She mentioned Kitchen Cry Fest 2013 specifically as an example of how she felt distanced from me. This then morphed into a group mentality supported by emotional validation with the ring leader being none other than Room mate A. 

The herd has found itself many targets since the beginning of last semester, some of which were members of the herd itself. Thier first target was me. Apparently a common mix up in bathroom cleaning schedules makes you good fodder for the herd. But that's a completely other story in its own.

Day one of movie in weekend will forever be the Groundhog Day of the 2013-2014 school year. I have yet to steal a rodent in any of my plans to end this time loop, does that mean I'm not trying hard enough? I don't believe so, but maybe Phil Connors would have a differing opinion on that. More importantly than the Groundhog Day bit, day one of move in weekend will forever be the day that I started learning how to choose room mates that were NOT the room mates that I chose. Not to get all "Anarchy! Fight the norm! Listen to The Used!" on anyone, but I am not a sheep. I am some kind of undiscovered crazy looking awesome animal that is probably yellow, and probably does weird shit all on its own without the influence of other yellow, crazy looking, awesome animals telling it that it should. This blogger is making better choices in room mates for next year and finding at least a few fellow undiscovered animals to live with. Even if the rest kind of suck, having SOMEONE that doesn't want to cry on the kitchen floor will be a plus.

George R. R. Martin Broke My Tear Ducts

As it turns out, when you live with people you aren't a huge fan of you spend a lot of time getting invested in television characters you are a huge fan of. I've gotten to know this part of dorm life very well since last semester. I've watched a ridiculous amount of full TV series these past eight or so months, so many it would be too embarrassing to list them out. I know this for a fact because I just spent the last five minutes attempting that very list before stopping out of shame. I mean, I'm already writing a blog where I complain about room mates and dorm life and show pretty pictures I draw all alone, why add an embarrassing list of all the shows I watch to prove just how little time I spend outside my room? And it's a shame really, because I'm very attractive and outside looks good on me. 

My latest obsession is Game of Thrones, which if anyone reading knows this show they know its an awful idea to get attached to characters. George R. R. Martin writes every word as if it's a Shakespearean tragedy... everyone dies! Except the emotional turmoil I feel is way worse because I actually enjoy and understand Game of Thrones. The last time I felt like this was while watching Grey's Anatomy, which I just recently caught up with and decided to give a breather after binge watching it over half of Spring break. And yes Spring break happened very recently, so I've been feeling this way for quite some time. It's sad and pathetic and it's my life right now. THERE I SAID IT!

On a positive note when George isn't breaking my tear ducts he is helping me reinvest my interest and curiosity in the magical world; a world I haven't been so engrossed in since the last Harry Potter book and movies. True there's the occasional magical aspect to some of my other favorite shows such as Angel and Being Human that might perk up my little fleshy ears, but nothing recently that's gotten me as involved as Game of Thrones. And so, I draw and I draw and I cry and I cry and eventually something cool and magical comes out and I add it to my ever growing list of characters and stories floating around in my noggin. And now, I come to the whole narcissistic point of this blog entry. The magical little drawing that came out that I thought the internet just needed to experience. Enjoy!

My Monsters and the Room Mate Blues

Ever since I moved out of the house and into the dorms last Fall I've found a new obsession with monsters. This makes sense because I've been living with four of them since August last year. And like most of my obsessions, this one has found its expression through my art. I draw them in class, in bed, on benches during my room mate escaping walks around campus; I draw them everywhere. Many of them are cute and friendly looking while the others end up taking on the characteristics of my room mates. This little blue one here reminds me of the worst of them. She's short, always making noise, and despite her looks is the most popular among our pod. Some might say she makes me ROARING mad! Get it? Roar... like a monster.... Anyway, thankfully I don't actually have to share a room with any of my real life monsters. Hopefully next years room mates will inspire something with a more positive connotation to it. But hey, at least I got some good art out of this year!