This week my professor cancelled my evening class and called it a “work day”. There is no doubt in my mind this was a generous offering intended to give those of use who are diligent enough to start the dreaded semester project a good chunk of time to draft up a big fat ‘A’. In my case, however, instead of hearing “work day” I hear “play day!” Without question I should certainly be spending the day doing exactly what I’m sure at least one of my classmates is doing but I won’t.
With this acknowledgement I suddenly realize how poorly I manage my time on a regular basis. One would think someone so intelligent and organized, like myself, would surely be smart enough to make sufficient time to get things done…and done well. But no. In an ever failing attempt to rationalize my actions I must simply admit one thing – I’m a procrastinator…but at least I’m darn good at it. After all, it’s truly a rare occasion in which I arrive early or even on time to any event and I don’t remember a single time in my entire academic career I finished an assignment before it was deadline due. I’m right there, 11:59 pm hitting the SUBMIT button. I am in fact a Pretty Pretty Procrastinating Princess.
Being a PPPP, I’ve learned to work exceptionally fast under pressure and I always, typically with the help of some miracle, manage to crank out work sufficient for my needs. No doubt, there is some skill involved, but it has recently come to my attention, somewhat harshly, that perhaps this technique is getting a little tired and by tired I mean me actually being tired…all the time. As it goes, I figure I must somehow become a Punctual Princess but, being that I’ve so long been the wicked stepsister to this seemingly perfect character, I have no clue how to go about it. I would imagine her actions would be basically opposite of mine so that’s a start. BUT what if Punctual Princess me ends up being worse? What if in fact it’s the procrastinating itself that brings about the best fruits of my labor? This would be tragic. I guess there is only one way to know for sure - a scientific experiment and on that note I shall put the shoulder to the wheel and start on the research paper that is due tomorrow.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Backup Plan
Right after my freshman year at college my roommate and I had to move apartments. We were going back home for the summer and just wanted to store our stuff for a few weeks. We boxed everything up and planned on leaving it in the apartment’s storage cages. Problem: we waited until just a few hours before our flight to make the transfer and it was, of course, locked. Everyone had left. Screwed we were. We asked our friend to come over and help us move the boxes somewhere else but we had no clue where…and we left out that information. As soon as he realized our predicament he shook his head, starred us both down and said in a rather piercing voice with outstanding gestures, “What’s Plan B? What’s your backup plan? You always have to have a backup plan!!!” We burst into a shameful laughter and to this day we’ll often recite this phrase to remind us of our pure lack of planning skills and freshman stupidity.
Since that pivotal moment in my life, I’ve tried to always keep a decent backup plan handy. I'm certainly an advocate of both the philosophy and practice. But too often I get caught up in the moment, incapable of thinking beyond the present and I find myself standing in front of a locked door with no chance of jimmying it open. Quickly I’ll realize the error of my ways and inevitably that voice will enter my mind. I know! Backup plan! Where’s my backup plan!?! That annoying voice is always right but why is it that I only hear it after I get locked outside?
Since that pivotal moment in my life, I’ve tried to always keep a decent backup plan handy. I'm certainly an advocate of both the philosophy and practice. But too often I get caught up in the moment, incapable of thinking beyond the present and I find myself standing in front of a locked door with no chance of jimmying it open. Quickly I’ll realize the error of my ways and inevitably that voice will enter my mind. I know! Backup plan! Where’s my backup plan!?! That annoying voice is always right but why is it that I only hear it after I get locked outside?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Little Leprechaun
In honor of St Patty’s Day I thought I’d share just some of the reasons why I’m often mistaken for a leprechaun:
1. The obvious – I have luscious red hair, natural as can be.
2. I’m 5 ft tall – basically already a dwarf.
3. I’ve got a rather high-pitched voice - come on, admit it, you know when you imagine a leprechaun talking they sound like a chipmunk.
4. I’m very very sneaky and super good at hide and seek.
5. I’m giddy for all things gold.
6. I enjoy bouncing around a wee bit.
7. Green looks amazing on me – it’s as if I were born to wear it.
8. I’m sorta unpredictable.
9. Rainbow is my favorite color.
10. Despite my vocal protests I really am just looking for someone to catch me and share my gold (awww).
Friday, March 14, 2008
Fair Play
Warning: Sentimental Posting
Earlier in the week I took part of the annual tradition: the Texas Fair and Rodeo. There's no shame in saying that my mom guilt me into the excursion by labeling it a "good family bonding activity". I mean really how does one ever get out of that? I'm not sure what made her select the rodeo for our family time but I think it had something to do with the animals. Moms and baby sheep - what can you do?
The trip was off to a great start in the family suburban on the long drive out to the middle of nowhere. My little brothers were in the back playing DS and I was reading so yeah - that's bonding right? Next, we arrive to the fair grounds only to wait in a ridiculously long line where there was only one person selling the tickets and yet there were 5 people standing around waiting to take the tickets you just bought. There was definitely something wrong with that picture. We overpaid for our entrance fee despite having called prior to confirm it would in fact be cheaper to purchase the tickets at the gate - nope, not true - liars! After entering the gates and taking a big whiff of what I can only describe as the 'rodeo smell' we head off to yet another line to get the coveted wristband. With this gold shimmering slip of paper we could now walk the grounds like rock stars getting on absolutely any snap-n-play ride we wanted! And so we proceed with the fair. Still now, I can't really put my finger on it but there is just something slightly off about the people that work at the fair and rodeo. It's never a surprise, just fact. But then again this really only adds to the overall experience - I mean you can't say you've done the fair without actually talking to a few genuine carnies.
Despite my initial protests, it happened, more than once - bursts of laughter left my lips. I was having a great time and so was the rest of the clan. But it wasn't until I was hanging upside down in the Fire Ball with nauseous levels rising exponentially by the second, it occurred to me that it wasn’t the actual rodeo I was enjoying at all - it was in fact my family bringing the grin to my face. My mom was right. We spent a nice day with each other just laughing, chatting, and eating. It didn't matter that I stepped in a ton of poo and that she made me comment on all the pretty little cows sitting in their cages. We were together and together we had an amazing day.
Rodeo recommendations:
Skip the Fire Ball. Yeah it looks way cool but I'm tellin ya...just walk away.
Try the chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick but don't eat the hotdogs.
Earlier in the week I took part of the annual tradition: the Texas Fair and Rodeo. There's no shame in saying that my mom guilt me into the excursion by labeling it a "good family bonding activity". I mean really how does one ever get out of that? I'm not sure what made her select the rodeo for our family time but I think it had something to do with the animals. Moms and baby sheep - what can you do?
The trip was off to a great start in the family suburban on the long drive out to the middle of nowhere. My little brothers were in the back playing DS and I was reading so yeah - that's bonding right? Next, we arrive to the fair grounds only to wait in a ridiculously long line where there was only one person selling the tickets and yet there were 5 people standing around waiting to take the tickets you just bought. There was definitely something wrong with that picture. We overpaid for our entrance fee despite having called prior to confirm it would in fact be cheaper to purchase the tickets at the gate - nope, not true - liars! After entering the gates and taking a big whiff of what I can only describe as the 'rodeo smell' we head off to yet another line to get the coveted wristband. With this gold shimmering slip of paper we could now walk the grounds like rock stars getting on absolutely any snap-n-play ride we wanted! And so we proceed with the fair. Still now, I can't really put my finger on it but there is just something slightly off about the people that work at the fair and rodeo. It's never a surprise, just fact. But then again this really only adds to the overall experience - I mean you can't say you've done the fair without actually talking to a few genuine carnies.
Despite my initial protests, it happened, more than once - bursts of laughter left my lips. I was having a great time and so was the rest of the clan. But it wasn't until I was hanging upside down in the Fire Ball with nauseous levels rising exponentially by the second, it occurred to me that it wasn’t the actual rodeo I was enjoying at all - it was in fact my family bringing the grin to my face. My mom was right. We spent a nice day with each other just laughing, chatting, and eating. It didn't matter that I stepped in a ton of poo and that she made me comment on all the pretty little cows sitting in their cages. We were together and together we had an amazing day.
Rodeo recommendations:
Skip the Fire Ball. Yeah it looks way cool but I'm tellin ya...just walk away.
Try the chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick but don't eat the hotdogs.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
BA in BS?
Communication Studies - my undergraduate degree. It also happens to be one of those degrees in which the moment you drop the title all heads will tilt and then: “Oh, that's interesting...and so what is that exactly?” What a good question – Communication Studies – yes, what is that? I graduated just under 5 years ago and today I still can’t honestly tell you what it really means with much confidence. I can, however, tell you with complete confidence that I'm a college graduate. I met all the requirements to obtain a degree recognized by some high board of intellectuals who have been given, almost mystically, the authority to determine who gets that little piece of paper with the gold seal. Hooray, I have a golden ticket!
The problem is what in the world does this golden ticket get me? I mean, I am now fully qualified to hold any number of middle management positions for the rest of my life. Good times. But did I really push through 4 years of college to now sit in a small cubicle, all day, rattling off the same speech over and over to convince some administrative person that yes, receipts are required for reimbursements. I mean really, are you serious?
Truth is, even though I sometimes question the practical implications of my degree I don't really feel like it was waste at all. I enjoyed my educational pursuits very much. All my upper division classes were filled with theory, in-depth reasoning, and discussion. It was brain heaven and I soaked up every minute of it. There were a lot of other things too; like how to live off $5 a week, that contributed marvelously to my overall development. There is no telling where I'd be without this degree but the struggle now is that I feel as if my job, the job I got because of the degree, has put me in brain hell. I've got to get out. So the real question is - what do you do with a degree you enjoyed obtaining but that doesn't put you anywhere in the real world you want to be? My flawed solution - graduate school. And so it begins again.
The problem is what in the world does this golden ticket get me? I mean, I am now fully qualified to hold any number of middle management positions for the rest of my life. Good times. But did I really push through 4 years of college to now sit in a small cubicle, all day, rattling off the same speech over and over to convince some administrative person that yes, receipts are required for reimbursements. I mean really, are you serious?
Truth is, even though I sometimes question the practical implications of my degree I don't really feel like it was waste at all. I enjoyed my educational pursuits very much. All my upper division classes were filled with theory, in-depth reasoning, and discussion. It was brain heaven and I soaked up every minute of it. There were a lot of other things too; like how to live off $5 a week, that contributed marvelously to my overall development. There is no telling where I'd be without this degree but the struggle now is that I feel as if my job, the job I got because of the degree, has put me in brain hell. I've got to get out. So the real question is - what do you do with a degree you enjoyed obtaining but that doesn't put you anywhere in the real world you want to be? My flawed solution - graduate school. And so it begins again.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Turkey Sandwich
So yeah, I’m a turkey sandwich kinda girl. Aside from the ridiculously frequent chocolate indulgences, the TS is my comfort food. Yeah, I know it’s a little weird but I’m ok with it. This is how I see it: a turkey sandwich is always safe. I can go into any restaurant, anywhere, anytime and there’s always a turkey sandwich. Well, except for the Mexican places in which case I order the chicken enchiladas which if you think about it is really just the Mexican version of the turkey sandwich.
Recently, I went out with some girlfriends to a nice Italian place. They ordered this crazy appetizer assortment of weird cheeses and meats and then expected me to eat it. I said listen, my taste buds are super shy and sometimes they get really miffed tying crazy stuff. My palette then became the topic of conversation as they forced me to consume the plate of unknown - and yeah it was all pretty good. The consensus was because I never try anything spicier than mild canned salsa or deli turkey my taste buds are like tender little babies and as such quickly suffer from sensory overload. Give em too much and they don't know what's going on. But basically, they agreed, I've done it to myself.
I’ve been thinking about my taste buds a lot and wondering if my safe turkey habits pop up anywhere else in my life. I think I’ve found a few. For the most part I think it's ok to play it safe. It's nice to know what you're gonna get but at the same time I don't know what other amazing things I'm missing out on. So here it goes, I think I'm gonna try to step out of the safe zone and maybe add a little ham...oh or roast beef!
Recently, I went out with some girlfriends to a nice Italian place. They ordered this crazy appetizer assortment of weird cheeses and meats and then expected me to eat it. I said listen, my taste buds are super shy and sometimes they get really miffed tying crazy stuff. My palette then became the topic of conversation as they forced me to consume the plate of unknown - and yeah it was all pretty good. The consensus was because I never try anything spicier than mild canned salsa or deli turkey my taste buds are like tender little babies and as such quickly suffer from sensory overload. Give em too much and they don't know what's going on. But basically, they agreed, I've done it to myself.
I’ve been thinking about my taste buds a lot and wondering if my safe turkey habits pop up anywhere else in my life. I think I’ve found a few. For the most part I think it's ok to play it safe. It's nice to know what you're gonna get but at the same time I don't know what other amazing things I'm missing out on. So here it goes, I think I'm gonna try to step out of the safe zone and maybe add a little ham...oh or roast beef!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sizzle
For the first time in 2008 it happened, I got sunburned. As a typical ultra-light-complected redhead, bright red skin is nothing new for me. During the summer months my skin maintains an almost constant shade of pink which in some respects is a pleasant break from reflective white; however, I wasn’t ready for the pink cycle to begin so early in the year. Usually I can luck it until April before I pull out my enormous supply of SPF but along came a bright, sunny day and I was too eager…ran right out into the world without protection. Luckily it wasn’t too bad this time but it was as if the sun was giving me a little reminder to begin the daily regimen of dousing my skin in SPF 100 before even considering stepping outside. Thanks buddy.
I’ve been reeducated on the incompatibility of redheads and sun many times, it’s a tough lesson. Just last year I spent a good part of the summer drenched in Aloe Vera for I made the biggest redhead mistake, I went to the beach. It’d been quite some time since the sun cooked me so bad my skin actually bubbled and I had forgotten just how painful it is – yeah no, it’s not normal. Oh and not to mention how disgusting you look and feel. I spent two days sprawled out in bed unable to move and had to shower with a shirt on so the water wouldn’t tear off my blistered flesh for the next week – ah such good times (and you’re welcome for the imagery). The truly saddest part of it all is I was in fact wearing sunscreen on the beach, I mean I wasn’t suicidal. The problem is when you combine water, sand, blazing sun and a redhead what you have is a steak. Fact. Now, it may be rather entertaining to watch the poor redhead as she hyper-colors* in the car ride home but despite how fun it is to touch the bright red skin and time how long the white finger prints will remain on the surface keep this in mind: Yes I’m sunburned and yes it hurts so please stop poking me!!!!
Time it takes to burn a redhead with sunscreen: 30 min
Time it takes to burn a redhead without sunscreen: 1.5 seconds
*although I am unable to trademark the term ‘hyper-color’ I can clarify the usage. The term hyper-color references the change occurring between the actual sun burning and the physical demonstration of that burn. It’s rather amazing. The skin will change colors right before your very eyes from pasty white to light pink, pink, hot pink, red and occasionally all the way to purple – and yes, yes I’ve been purple.
I’ve been reeducated on the incompatibility of redheads and sun many times, it’s a tough lesson. Just last year I spent a good part of the summer drenched in Aloe Vera for I made the biggest redhead mistake, I went to the beach. It’d been quite some time since the sun cooked me so bad my skin actually bubbled and I had forgotten just how painful it is – yeah no, it’s not normal. Oh and not to mention how disgusting you look and feel. I spent two days sprawled out in bed unable to move and had to shower with a shirt on so the water wouldn’t tear off my blistered flesh for the next week – ah such good times (and you’re welcome for the imagery). The truly saddest part of it all is I was in fact wearing sunscreen on the beach, I mean I wasn’t suicidal. The problem is when you combine water, sand, blazing sun and a redhead what you have is a steak. Fact. Now, it may be rather entertaining to watch the poor redhead as she hyper-colors* in the car ride home but despite how fun it is to touch the bright red skin and time how long the white finger prints will remain on the surface keep this in mind: Yes I’m sunburned and yes it hurts so please stop poking me!!!!
Time it takes to burn a redhead with sunscreen: 30 min
Time it takes to burn a redhead without sunscreen: 1.5 seconds
*although I am unable to trademark the term ‘hyper-color’ I can clarify the usage. The term hyper-color references the change occurring between the actual sun burning and the physical demonstration of that burn. It’s rather amazing. The skin will change colors right before your very eyes from pasty white to light pink, pink, hot pink, red and occasionally all the way to purple – and yes, yes I’ve been purple.
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