Big Girls Don't Cry (Unless They Have To)

First and foremost, I don't cry. I'm not a crier. I'm one of those people who only cry when I'm really upset, scared, or all of the above. Other than that, you probably won't see me shedding too many tears. Even if I'm watching a sad movie or a tv show that just happens to make me feel all the feelings on steroids, I probably won't cry. I'll just get that feeling on the tips of my eyes that makes me think I'm going to cry but then I don't. Basically, if I cry, it means that shit is for real. If I'm crying, you better stop, drop, and roll yourself to the nearest QuikTrip and get me a doughnut and a 6-pack because I'm losing my shit. Unlike my dad, who cries at everything because he's a dad, I just don't cry unless something is worth crying over.

Growing up, my older sister, Lisa, would test me by accusing me of lying. If I was telling the truth, I'd normally get very mad and start crying because she was some kind of manipulative demon child. She did a lot of other things to torment me, but making me cry because I had to prove I was being truthful was probably one of the most horrific forms of torture she used. (In fact, that's probably why I don't cry. See, who needs therapy when you can just come to these realizations while writing a blog?)

So, like, three weeks ago, I was on the phone with Bruce (the bestie, if you're new to my blog!), and crying came up in our conversation (actually, this might have been an intense, passionate discussion. who knows!) because crying is a thing we sometimes do because of the amount of dust in the air around us when we're together or on the phone or (and most importantly) when LOST is on TV.

Him: You know, I never cried until I became friends with you.
Me: Yeah, same here.
Him: Like, seriously. I cry all the time now.
Me: Maybe this is a sign that we shouldn't be friends anymore.
Him: I don't know.
Me: You're right. That can never happen because you know way too much.

And, to be honest, that's pretty true (I mean, the crying part. Although the him knowing too much part is also very true). I bet that half the time that we're together, one of us cries. And while I'm sure that many of those times it's primarily because of alcohol and the fact that we get too emotional sometimes, half the time is a lot of the time. I mean, Bruce is like the manliest man I know, and I'm not just saying that because I know he'll come kick my ass hardcore if I didn't say that, so he doesn't really cry, he just cleans his face with the water of his eyes. That's how intense he is, guys. Also, that's how he keeps his skin so clear. True story.

So, anywho. I was thinking about it, and I think Bruce is the only person I can cry in front of. This is
probably because A)he's seen me in some very interesting situations (like puking on his balcony and that time my pants fell down because they were so loose) so crying is like nothing and B) he will probably be too busy crying himself to notice how ugly I am when I cry. True shit. Though, I don't know if I am as ugly crying as Kim Kardashian. I may never know.

If I cry at home, Julia will never let me forget about it because she's a little rabbit shit. If I cry at school, I'll look like some kind of freshman who can't figure out if they can walk from Dale Hall to Gaylord College in less than 15 minutes (mind you, that's like a 3 minute walk). So, basically, I reserve all my crying for when I'm with my best friend. That either means my standards are that low or that we have a really awesome relationship.

I basically just realized this entire post is a giant contradiction. Writing is hard, y'all.

I blame the ending of LOST for all my troubles. Also Ron Paul 2012.

Go Home, October. You're Drunk.

Welcome, October! Time for me to once again ignore the hustle and bustle over pumpkin spice bullshit and countdown to the next major holiday that releases me from the cold, dead grip of junior year of college for like a week. That basically means that October is going to be the longest month ever.

So, every once in a blue moon, I have these realizations about my life and myself and who I am and what I am doing and what I want and why I want it and how I can get it and then my attention returns to its normal obsession with garlic bread and various carbs smothered in cheese. I mean, this happens like twice a year, so trust me... I really don't actually have that much going on in my head at once for prolonged periods of time. That being said, I had one of those moments recently (obviously, or, you know, I wouldn't be talking about this and wasting your time with my unnecessary banter. Oh wait. That's my blog in a nutshell.).

One of my favorite quotes is this:

"You like him because he’s a lost boy. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to girls who love lost boys? They become lost themselves. Without fail." 

-David Levithan

That quote didn't really have a direct connection to my life until I looked at myself for the first time in a really long time and started to realize how different things have become. 

I've always had a knack for lost people. I think I've always kind of had this idea that I could maybe fix and complete those lost people I found. Of course, now that I'm older, I realize that I can't fix anyone (that's a job for them and them alone), but I am constantly fixated on the dream that that might still be possible. In the end, though, I think I don't actually do any good. I just get tangled up in all the lostness that I try to eliminate. 

I am incredibly lost, without a map and compass. Where I got lost, turned around and around and around, I don't remember. 10th grade? Senior year? College? Behind the counter at that chinese fast food establishment I worked at all summer? 

Who knows? 

But I guess being lost isn't terrible because sometimes you get to take the off-roads and take the detours that lead to dead ends and then you get to turn around and see it all again. And you just keep driving until you hit a familiar spot. I mean, who doesn't love taking the scenic route? 

Things I Like Because of Guys

So, I'm not perfect, and I've done some pretty stupid things to make people like me more than they already did. Life is an embarrassing time for me (but, really, who was it not an embarrassing time for? Probably hot people, just saying). And I am guilty of taking interest in all kinds of stuff just because a guy suggests I like that thing. The problem? I've ended up actually liking a lot of those things. See? I bet you thought I couldn't be any more pathetic. Well, looks like you were wrong! Ha!

1. 3OH!3 - Yeah, back in 10th grade when "Don't Trust Me" was hitting the airwaves and I was totally oblivious to what was playing on the radio, I listened to 3OH!3 because a guy forced me to. Well, forced is a heavy term to use here, but I'm pretty sure he actually did force me to listen to them... and he made me make their lyrics my FaceBook status. Yes, he was a douchebag. I know. 

2. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Another band (but who is surprised?)! Actually, if we're getting specific, I only like this band because I was told I couldn't like this band. The same douchebag as above had a thing for blocking me on FaceBook every single time I expressed any love for any RHCP song, so it because a fun little game to play every couple of months. Then, when he was finally out of the picture, I was free to actually like the band because of the band and not because of him. 

3. LOST - As much as I love LOST, it kills me to say that I only watched all 6 seasons in 4 weeks because a  guy got me to. I don't really remember not wanting to watch LOST before then because I don't even think I knew what LOST was. I just knew it was like a big deal. So, I figured "Why not?" 

4. Stephen King - Okay, this one I hadn't even realized was going to be on this list until just now. This is probably the most embarrassing one too. Yeah, I only love Stephen King because a guy lent me IT a couple of summers ago. I recall in middle school when we had to read to get AR (accelerated reader) points, and the Stephen King novels were worth like 100 points each, so the smartest guy in my class was reading them, and I was totally opposed to the idea because I am so easily terrified. But I eventually took a leap. I fell instantly in love with everything about his writing and how his books smelled and the way I felt so inspired by every single description and ending. He's just perfection. 

5. Switchfoot - It was 6th grade. I had just gotten my hands on a portable CD/ AM-FM player, and music on the radio was actually okay. Out of all the "She Will Be Loved" and "Drop It Like It's Hot," I found love in a song called "Dare You To Move".... but only because a guy liked it. Honestly, this only lasted a while, but later in high school I rekindled my love for the band. Now, I'm totally in love with everything this band is a part of. 

I'm sure there are lots of other things that I could add to this list, and I'll be accumulating more throughout the rest of my life. The thing, though, is that people will read this list and think I've been faking it, lying, changing myself to please others or make people like me, but that's not the case. I never pretended to like anything above. So, judge me, but I doubt I am alone. 

Plus, I used to be really stupid. (I still am. shhhh)

7 Methods of Procrastination

If you're not aware, I'm the queen of procrastination. I like to claim that it is only because I do my

best work at the last minute, but, honest to blog, I am just really lazy and like to put-off doing things so I  become too overwhelmed with things that suck. So, despite my humongous load of things to do just sitting in front of me waiting for me to throw it a bone, I decided to take some time to give some helpful suggestions on how to better your procrastination experience. After all, if you're going to procrastinate, you might as well do it with oomph rather than pffft. 

1. You know that band that you liked back when you were 15 and put lots of their music on your iTunes and haven't really touched any of it since you realized the lead singer looked like a horse? Metro Station, anyone? Mitchel Musso? Whoever it was, I think it is time for you to become reacquainted with your love for them. Turn up the tunes, go on their website to see if they've done anything of the slightest importance since you pushed them out of your mind and into a great black pit of high school embarrassment, and don't forget to tell all your Twitter and FaceBook friends what you're doing so they can join in on the fun. 

2. Watch all 6 seasons of LOST and do nothing else. Trust me, it will give your life so much meaning and deepness and you may learn a little bit of Korean and Latin in the process. Plus, you'll finally understand all the hype that surrounded the TV show back when it was on the air. Potentially, this could suck up a week or two of your life. 

3. Have a marathon of all the sappy Nicholas Sparks movies. From A Walk to Remember (with its amazing soundtrack that consists of basically only Switchfoot) to Safe Haven, take your emotions on a fun ride. Don't forget to grab some tissues and a pint of B&J's for added sappiness. 

4. Have a million hours to spare? Watch Les Miserables! That movie is great, but ridiculously long. Plus, hot guys and Anne Hathaway is a prostitute. YOLO! 

5. Two words. Sims 2/3/Medieval. You'll waste a good 30 minutes alone just creating your first Sim... and then there's building and decorating their home. Before you know it, you'll be in tomorrow! 

6. Take some new selfies in your bathroom! Instagram that ish and then upload to Facebook. Be sure to let the whole world know how ugly you think you look so the desperate and horny guys (who you don't even know, btw) you're FB friends with will comment and tell you how much they'd like to get to know you better. Works every single time, y'all. 

7. Make a list of things you could be doing instead of what you are supposed to be doing. Wait a second....

So, now you're all ready to avoid that paper you've been meaning to write or not do the pile of laundry that's currently scattered all over your floor. I know you can do it... or not do it? Either way, happy procrastinating! 

The Romantic Gesture

I write more about romantic stuff than I actually do romantic stuff. Is that part of the curse of being a damaged writer who is forever single? Probably. 

So, I saw this retweet by Taco Bell on twitter (duhhh) and it was a girl talking about how she got asked to her prom via a verde sauce packet. Like, I guess he got a packet that had a blank white place to write your own message and he wrote "Prom?" in the space and gave it to her. Okay, maybe it is just the hopeless romantic that nests in my body all year long talking and controlling my mind, but this totally made me want a boyfriend (and no, not a creepy guy from the internet). And so I started to think about all the perfect ways a guy could propose going steady with me or asking me on a date that would just be completely irresistible to my girlish wonder.

Number one, and this will forever be a school girl fantasy for me, is through one of those stupid elementary school check-yes-or-no notes. I don't know why this approach to romance is so damn appealing to me, but it I don't think I could ever not say yes to one of those bastards (unless, of course,
the guy was a bastard... and then the cards change). Of course, sadly, I'm at an age now that doesn't really think that kind of gesture is appropriate. Instead, we just bump and grind and have casual sex with people we have no emotional attachments to. Adulthood, everyone! 

Number two is really for my inner fatass... also, I kind of stole this from The Princess Diaries, so shoot me. Anyway, a guy orders me a pizza (preferably cheese because who doesn't like cheese? Oh, right. Lactose intolerant bitches!) and then has the pizza place write out "Will you... [insert desired action here]?" in Sour Patch Kids on top. I know, it sounds totally gross, but I would eat the Sour Patch Kids before eating the pizza... maybe. Okay, I'd totally try them together, but who cares?   But, really, who could say no to that? Personally, I can't say no to pizza ever, so that's the best way to win my heart.

-___- Desmond and Daniel = Constants 4ever

Number three is also food related (damn, how have I lost 65 pounds with this much food on my mind?).  Okay, so, the guy gets a custom fortune cookie fortune made and puts it in a fortune cookie (really, Angela? you don't say?) and gives it to me after getting me chinese food. Of course, the fortune says something really cute like "Hey, sexy. Be my constant. Love, Daniel Faraday" or "Eat together, fat alone. jk. Let's be fat together." The LOST references are not optional.

Finally, concert proposals. I have been to way too many concerts where girls get proposed to by their boyfriends on stage or during the show at some point. I want that. That is like the most badass gesture in the book of gestures. If a guy could get, say, Jon Foreman, lead singer of Switchfoot, or another relevant member of a band to be like "Hey, this guy loves you lots. Go out with him/ marry him, okay?" That'd probably have a very high feedback rating. But that's just my opinion.

So, pretty much, my stomach is my heart. But is that really a surprise to anyone? 

Play Nice, February

Hello, February! I see you've slimmed down some since last year! *leap year jokes!* 

Typically, I'm totally cool with February. Nasty-gourmet-chocolate-everyone-says-tastes-good is in high demand. It's almost always possible to get your hands on those amazing Twilight and One Direction Valentines at the drugstore (I mean, who doesn't want to tell someone they love them with Kristen Stewarts pale-ass face or a random British boy? Seriously.). I get to remember how complicated my nonexistent love life is for a consecutive 28 days. Then, after I've wallowed in self-pity, I'll get to indulge in the gourmet-chocolate Sour Patch Kids that my boyfriend  I got me myself, and we'll live happily-ever-after  then I'll go cuddle with my body pillow. See? February is awesome to me.

So, like every new month, I've set out some goals for myself (because what is life without some fun structured living?)

Credit: http://ohshrubbery.deviantart.com/art/Chocolate-54158604

1. Don't die.That's simple and self-explanatory. 
2. Don't spend all my money on unnecessary band merchandise or t-shirts with clever sayings or quotes from TV shows to compensate for the fact that I am single (We get it, IT'S NOT PENNY'S BOAT!). Ever since I got my debit card, it seems like I just can't keep it in my wallet for very long. I always have this itch to buy things online. Is it my longing to receive things in the mail? Maybe. That's not the point, though. The point is I have a problem, and money doesn't grow on trees. 
3. Don't eat the chocolate! I don't even like chocolate, but, for some reason, when it's around, I eat all the chocolate anyway. It's really sad. What did I ever do to be cursed in such a disgusting way? 
4. Gawk less at attractive people while in public. It's really just not even enjoyable anymore. Like, I get it. You're really good looking, and I have no chance of getting your attention with my messy hair and baggy clothes. Besides, I've got my heart set on bigger things. (Like a really big bag of Sour Patch Kids). I don't need the temptations! Get behind me, Satan!
5. Be weird. Okay, I'll try. It's not going to be easy coming down from such a high pedestal of weirdness, but I'll try. 

In all seriousness, people take February way too seriously. It's a month, not a 28-day-long holiday that allows you to waste your money on chocolate and have lots of sex.


Despite all the commercialism involved with February and Valentine's Day, it's really not any different from any other month of the year. Well, I guess it is slightly better because there are only 28 days, which means fewer days to be bad days, fewer days to get your heart smashed and ripped apart by careless ne'er-do-wells, fewer days to be told by your mother-in-law that you need to hit the gym and lay off the sweets, fewer days to neglect actually working on your New Year resolutions, and fewer days to convince your 15 year-old sister she needs to get her ass to rehab for that unflattering Coke addiction.  February is short, so live your days to the fullest. 


Or you can just continue to do what you're doing and live in fear of actually enjoying your life and feeling good about your choices because it's just easier than getting up off your lazy ass and greeting the world with a badass attitude. That's okay too, I guess.

Also, in honor of February, here's some tasteful music by Josh Groban:

Sophomore Slump, Kiss My Keister

A warning at the carwash or for my semester?

I wake up between the unholy hour of 8 am and the mildly unfair hour of 9 am Monday through Friday and, like clockwork, turn out the lights to sink into my own steady beat of insomnia at 11 pm (an unheard of time for many college students. I know.) most nights. I attend 18 hours of class on the regular, never missing a beat, and I manage to workout 4 or 5 times a week and eat food that isn't artificially flavored or colored. Oh, and I do all of this while still keeping myself caught up on my TV shows and demolishing the stack of books by my bed. This is my life. 

As a second semester sophomore in college, I know the system pretty well. I've got a routine packed down securely, and, as long as I follow that routine, I'm going to survive this semester. Now, you might be thinking to yourself: Angela, you make college sound like it's a fight to the death. I think you're overreacting just a tad! And, you know, I'd agree with you for the most part. I just don't think you heard me when I said I was taking 18 HOURS!!!  In college terms, that's a mouthful of the trots right there! 19 hours is the limit for students here at the University of Oklahoma, so being one under that is pretty gutsy. 

I've been joking to myself for the last two weeks that I've become some sort of overachiever since the beginning of the semester. I have due dates scribbled in black ink across my calendar and stacks of assorted Post-It Notes with to-do lists and outlines carefully laid out all over my desk.  This wasn't me last semester, and this sure as hell wasn't me my freshman year (the year I procrastinated, watched LOST, and gained 15 pounds eating Burger King and drinking strawberry Fanta). 

My freshman year in a nutshell after watching 6 seasons of LOST in 4 weeks

I remember how bugged out sophomore year of high school made me, so why shouldn't I have expected the exact same thing out of college? Sure, sophomores in high school only need to conquer their geometry and chemistry classes while striving to control their sexual tension and random outbreaks of zit metropolises on their faces. I'm in a whole other lifeboat on this sinking ship, and Leonardo DiCaprio is nowhere in sight to save me! I've got second semester Latin (can you say, carpe kill me?) and the fact that my clothes never seem to match to worry about! 

It all sounds so sophomoric, don't you think? Exactly. 

I've decided that, despite the curse of the Sophomore Slump, I'm not going to let this semester own me. I was once called Superwoman by a friend, and now I'm here to prove that true. So, watch out professors, peers, and South Oval preachers! I am woman, hear me roar!