i want to stop neglecting this blog. i feel some sort of inexplicable obligation to pollute the internet with my nonsense ramblings. alas, work eats up an ungodly amount of my time, so i will probably not fulfill this desire. but i will make a more active effort.
cody and i got a kitten a few weeks ago. (if you are just tuning in, cody is my boyfriend with whom i live in atlanta.) despite repeatedly tossing around the idea and lurking on pet adoption websites and the petco kitten window, i was slightly hesitant because cats live a long time, and i didn't think i was ready for that type of commitment. but then our neighbor said someone he worked with was giving kittens away, and i rarely say no to free anything, so we picked her up the next day.
her name is cleo, because she is a bad bitch, like cleopatra. we thought about naming her oprah, but she will never be big enough to live up that name. she likes to climb up our legs, which is not such an issue when one is wearing pants, but is rather painful when one is not. she seems to think plucking her off and setting her back on the ground is simply part of the challenge. as a result, i look like a cutter.
that feather is connected to a string, which is connected to a wand. she drags it all over the apartment and often puts it in her food dish. she also makes it a point to play with it right next to our feet, even though there are more spacious locations available. this is clearly a calculated decision that allows her to "accidentally" miss her feather and attack our appendages instead.
i keep thinking about going back to school... and consequently about how much i still would rather not.
it's not that i'm opposed to learning. i am so down with knowledge. but i'm not down with spending a lot of time and money to earn a degree simply for the sake of having one. and i'm even less down with the possibility of earning a degree, not being able to find a job related to said degree and still working a waitressing job to pay for life.
i can't say that i am unbothered by the fact that people i graduated from high school with are nearing the completion of college while i'm still struggling to get it all together. but a gameplan for my life will surely appear before me somehow, like this mysterious footprint on the wall (presumably mine), which i have just noticed.
feeling this unreasonable urge to talk to myself on the internet for the first time in a long time.
i love living in atlanta. people are nice and my apartment is big (and still looking a little sparse). i started working at a sports bar type place (not hooters. but i would kind of rather wear orange hot pants to work than kakhis), so hopefully i will be making lots of cash money once the football season is in full swing and then be able to flush out my crib.
unfortunately, i have not yet met any notable members of the hip-hop community, but i'm sure it's merely a matter of time until i will be smoking blunts with lil wayne in his condo.
in order to steal my neighbor's internet i have to balance my computer on my narrow windowsill and even then, i sometimes cannot receive a signal. but it's working particularly well this evening, so i have been stationed here for an amount of time i would rather not specify to take advantage of the connection/waste time on my day off. there are some squirrels that live in the tree behind my apartment, and earlier i glanced to the side of my computer to find one of those adorable motherfuckers sitting about six inches away from me on the other side of my window. as you may or may not know, i love squirrels more than pretty much any living creature with or without fur, so having one approach me in this fashion was basically a dream come true. he didn't stick around very long, but when he was back up in his tree he was rapidly swinging his tail around in a circular movement, which i'm sure means, "i really felt we connected, human, and i will come see you again." how exciting!
i think i have discovered a new mental condition which sets in when one is approximately nineteen years old and leads its victim to take great joy in events and activities revered by the elderly (early bird specials, crocheting, going to bed at 9 o'clock, grandma sweaters, vegetable gardening, so and so forth). about a year into the onset of the condition, physical manifestations of being elderly start to develop. these symptoms include: forgetfulness, exhaustion, and waking up at 2:30 AM to go pee. i hope once the medical community recognizes this as an actual diagnosis, they call it Proft Syndrome.
i'm trying to teach myself how to knit. i am impossibly terrible at it. it's so hard! my mom has been trying to help me, but she does not understand the concept of demonstrations with explanations, so when i ask her a question, she simply takes the knitting needles out of my hand and takes over. then when i continue to struggle and need further clarification she just yells in her german accent, "look! it's so easy! i don't know what your problem is." and i don't either. crocheting is so much easier.
i'm moving to atlanta on monday. it's sort of unbelievable. but i have always loved the atl, and i'm really excited about it. i keep thinking about how much i'm going to miss my dog, which is sort of dumb because my parents only live an hour and a half away.
something i despise more than almost anything is pretentiousness. there are lots of things and people i would classify as "pretentious," but i don't really have time for that. the group most often slapped with the pretentious label is the hipsters, which is a term that i don't think anyone really has a good grasp of because it's not very definite and people love to overuse it. sort like the term "emo" in 2003.
my personal vision of a hipster is this: a young man or woman who defines him or herself by the often douchey music, clothing and accessories he or she chooses to enjoy. there is not a problem in wearing clothes purchased at, say, american apparel and listening to obscure, pitchfork-approved bands. the issue is believing to be superior because of these things. because quality as a human being is not determined by how deep your v-neck is.
everyone is entitled to personal preference. this is america. you can like what you like, but you don't have to be an asshole about it.
there is something, however, that i have to be an asshole about: the ironic moustache. (to demonstrate, here is a total stranger whose image comes up when you google search "ironic moustache.")
i fail to see why anyone with the ability to grow facial hair under the age of 35 would choose to put this above his lip. do you want to look like a child molester? i mean, who is laughing at this joke? i don't think the general public sees humor in ruining an otherwise perfectly attractive face. maybe it's funny for, like, the first week. but after that, the joke is clearly on the wearer. because no one will want to have sex with you.
doing this thing again where i overestimate my control over the universe. am under the impresion that there is an appropriate amount of worry i need to generate in order for me to get what i want. i think this is probably a sign of insanity, thinking that the universe only takes your requests seriously if you cry about it just right.
to counter my crazy, i am trying to be relaxed by letting the chips fall as they may, but it's rather difficult to suppress feeling overwhelmed and frustrated.
on a brighter, unrelated note, i have been attempting to grow a vegetable garden, and today i ate the first of my cucumbers! which was quite tasty, in case you were wondering.
i dislike a lot of things. like when people ask, "are you having fun yet?" in situations when you are clearly nowhere close to having a good time. and the fact that i have to go to court tomorrow for a very minor rear-ending incident, in which i happened to be the car doing the rear-ending and someone in the other vehicle insisted upon leaving the scene of the accident in an ambulance. i am quite nauseous about this. mostly because i hate being in trouble. i do not like to be reprimanded, and i typically carry about my business in a manner that prevents me from having to face consequences for what can be considered irresponsible behavior. so, this is pretty much making me want to vomit.
anyway, i am really not naturally inclined to lead a healthy lifestyle. it's not that i dislike being healthy. it's just that i do like junk food, and i do not particularly enjoy sweating. i am down with vegetables and enjoy their flavor whilst eating them, but i would almost always rather be eating something fried. deep fried vegetables are probably my favorite. since i am aware of the shortcomings of my habits, i have recently made an effort to be healthier. i stopped drinking diet soda because i thought the artificial sweeteners were causing my headaches, but i actually still get headaches all the time. so it seems that i gave up my beloved pepsi one for nothing. and because i don't drink diet soda anymore, i only have, like, one regular soda a day because i fear the calories.
i know what you're thinking, "good for you, stephanie." but i'm really not so convinced that passing on the carbonated beverages has really made such a difference in the state of my health. and really, research on the negative effects of artificial sweeteners are somewhat inconclusive. yes, they are nasty chemicals, but if the body can handle it, then so be it. and by "so be it," i mean, "let me drink it."
even more remarkably, i have started to exercise in the form of jogging most nights a week. i have kept this up for about two months and noticed... nothing. i am not overweight. i don't really have major complaints about my body's appearance and am actually pretty grateful for what i have. but i really thought my ass would look a little more like beyonce's if i ran around my neighborhood listening to her on a regular basis. this assumption was false. and let me tell you something, i have never understood the appeal of strenuous exercise; it feels like dying. people who say they enjoy it are liars. these are delusions they feed themselves to keep them motivated during their quest for fitness. even beyonce says she hates exercising and only does it to stay hot.
this is quite understandable. i could totally see myself living in this state of mind, except for one thing: I LOOK, FEEL, AND WEIGH EXACTLY THE SAME.
exercise, what is it good for? absolutely nothing, if you are going to stay stagnant at a hundred and something pounds and find no joy in it whatsoever no matter how many times you circle your housing development. say it again, y'all.
maybe some day i will find a form of aerobic exercise i find fun. until that day, it is too hot outside for me to go running until after it's dark out, and by that time i would really rather just retire to watching other people lose weight on quality television programming such as oxygen's dance your ass off (or dancing with the fat people).
her name is cleo, because she is a bad bitch, like cleopatra. we thought about naming her oprah, but she will never be big enough to live up that name. she likes to climb up our legs, which is not such an issue when one is wearing pants, but is rather painful when one is not. she seems to think plucking her off and setting her back on the ground is simply part of the challenge. as a result, i look like a cutter.
