Watching Paint Dry

Today is a lazy day.

I'm sitting in the computer lab at school, in my most comfortable sweats and a red plaid jacket I nabbed from the closet at home. Dr. Pepper is my lifeline, I think. Danny believes it tastes like syrup.

Anyway. I'm waiting for my sister. She's got class until 3:30. Mac, my instructor, took a half day to go watch his daughter play tennis. Yes, tennis. Apparently some people do care about that sport. So I've got about three and a half hours to kill. And how am I doing that? Why, filling my time with Farmville, Fanfiction and this blog post, of course. Oh, and doodling in my notebook.

In other news, I am supremely happy with the people in my life right now. I went to youth group last night...I laughed so much my face still hurts. We played midget baseball. At least, that's what I call it. I don't think it has an official name. Ping pong balls and paddles. I forget too easily how much fun they are. My friends at youth group, that is. They are all Christians, and I suppose--being agnostic--I shouldn't really be there, but they make me laugh, and I think everyone needs some relaxation and real, genuine laughter.

I'm really not sure why I'm writing this. There is no goal, no ultimate point I am trying to convey to the world. Hmm. Bacon.

*EDIT*

So I found a few amazing songs I thought I'd share as a closing to this day...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Yv_klu3c1U&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5n1Az2YllRQ&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCMLTR2k0Nk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCj9R0N2a1U


And that's about it.

*Fin*

Just A Blurb

Mmm. Bacon.

'Nuff said.


*EDIT*


So I'm sitting here with my Reese's and my Tropicana orange juice and my Sun Chips, munching away while watching Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

And I'm thinking about Christmas.

It was weathering today. I call it that because it can't make up its mind. It's snowing, sunny and drizzling all in one hour. The next its gloomy and threatening thunderstorms. Weathering. What is it with weather men and not being able to accurately predict the forecast? Can someone please explain that? It's ridiculous. They have degrees in the subject, for God's sake.

Anyway, weathering. Yeah. I don't have a problem with it. I love the rain and the snow and the gloomy cloud banks and even the chill wind cracking the skin on my knuckles. The dry cold is OK. Maybe it's the wrinkled old people who take ages doing anything, blaming their inefficiency on arthritis. Or maybe it's the disgruntled parents with cold, sick, screaming kids--drippy, plugged up noses, snot running down their chins and onto their winter jackets. Maybe it's the way smokers stand out on the sidewalk, stubbornly defying the weather just to have their cigarette. Maybe it's those ambitious shoppers who believe they can crack the system by buying their Christmas gifts/decorations/cards three months in advance (then promptly misplacing them). Whatever the reason, people irritate me in the winter.

On another subject, my mp3 player died this morning. That also irritated me today. And I somehow left my phone on the kitchen counter. So I couldn't call anyone, and that made me think about how dependent we are on technology. There are five computers in my house alone. Five. Three of which are in one room. Now, why exactly we need so much internet access is beyond me. But we have learned that looking something up on the web is much simpler than going to the library, searching through volume after dusty volume only to find that their sources are too outdated to help. Yeah. Technology is pretty chill.

Also, here are some links that caught my eye/made me chuckle:

http://www.cracked.com/funny-2628-disaster-movies/

http://www.fatawesome.com/


And...that's it.

Enjoy.

What Makes A Role Model?

"What makes a role model? Who dictates what features, characteristics, or values he must possess to earn the title? How must one conduct himself, both in public and in solitude? I believe that no one can truly do this. No one can simply draw up a diagram, create a list of the qualifications, and say, "Here is what a role model looks like." Role model status is earned by the simple trust of a younger man looking up to an older, wiser, fiercer being."--The Unconscious Muse, by J.J.

Writing a paper on my brother was more difficult than I originally anticipated. For college writing, we were told to write a character sketch about someone from our life. I knew immediately who mine would be about. As we grow older, the memories stack up, and are shuffled around according to favorites or those of importance. It took me three days to decide where to start, and from there it took me nearly a week to write it out in a way that would capture my audience's attention.

I wrote out of anger, fear, love and joy. All of the memories of him, all of the ones yet to be made, contributed to this five-page work. As I sit here looking it over for the thousandth time before it is submitted, I can't help but chuckle at the silliness. A sixteen year old girl writing about her twenty-three year old brother.

But it was a sobering tale, the one which I eventually wrote. You'd think that an adoring little sister would write nothing but good about her idol. There is no way to write only good about him. As I typed the words that were in my heart and on my mind, I couldn't help but pause and reflect. My memories of him are truly bittersweet. There are ones I love to replay: wrestling when we were little, racing, rock climbing. We always seemed to be competing with each other, and he always came out on top.

Then there are the ones I wish I didn't still recall. Watching him transition from a God-fearing, respectful teenager into a man who believes that God can go fuck himself. Now, in all fairness and for fear of being called a hypocrite, I believe the same way. But for all intensive purposes, it was sobering to watch. Painful, even. But now that I have gone through the stages of doubt, bitterness and stubborn disbelief, I wonder if others have seen the change in me as I saw in him.

Anyway, it is a sad story, but the ending is lighthearted. He is my brother, no matter how dark, and to portray him in any other light would be dishonoring to him and to anyone who read it. He is a complex being, and I cannot claim to have figured him out. Anyone who does is a liar, pure and simple.

People in general are complex, but every time I thought I'd figured him out, he'd surprise me with something completely off the wall. Yes, I make him sound like a god among men sometimes, but I try to stay true to form, and what I write is simply how I see him.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I've been thinking about him lately, and I needed to get these things out here, if only to keep them from clogging my brain cells (the few that I have :P). Simply put: he is my role model, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Defense of Teddy Bears

People are too serious. There comes a time in every human's life when they forget about their childhood pets, toys and games. Teddy bears are stuffed into sealed cardboard boxes and locked in the attic. The little pet frog you found in Mother's garden somehow escapes and is never seen again. Playing games like hide-and-seek and duck-duck-goose become 'childish', 'stupid', and 'immature'. Your parents tell you to grow up and get a job. Soon, you are consumed, always running, always doing things. Never still. You don't have time to listen to other people's problems, to let someone cry on your shoulder, because you'll be late for a meeting.

But people are selfish. People just want someone to love them. We don't care about another person's feelings if they don't care about ours. We hold grudges, break promises, go behind each other's backs and literally kill each other. This brings me to teddy bears, and the loyalty they hold. No matter how long he's been left in your attic, stuffed into some obscure, shadowed corner and wreathed in cobwebs, he will still love you as much as the first day you held him. He will still soak up your salty tears as you cry selfishly over another human. He won't think twice about how you got mad and threw him across your bedroom when you were seven because Mommy wouldn't give you ice cream before bed.

"The world doesn't get any less scary as we grow up, but somehow we're asked to shed the icons of our childhood so we can become big people. Fuck that."--Rock Paper Cynic

There's something in a teddy bear's stuffing that soaks up all of our fear, anger, uncertainty, and sadness. No matter what, he will never leave you alone in the dark. We try to replace them with other people, but other people are filled with the same selfish goo as we are. A teddy bear will accept your tears and your abuse and your selfish love like he always has. He'll love you just as much as the day you left him in the attic. A teddy bear is the only one who truly knows that love is unconditional. And most of all, he'll make you remember.

He'll make you remember how sweet childhood was, how you long to go back there and live it all again. Innocence is something people grow out of, whether they want to or not. It happens as we grow up, learning new words and phrases, new meanings for everything. In some cases, ignorance is bliss, and teddy bears are one of those things that help you remain so.

"He'll make you remember how to be a person."--Rock Paper Cynic