Why I've Been Up For Almost 3 Hours

And it's 6 15.

Some genius in my building let off the fire extinguisher, thereby activating the incredibly obnoxious fire alarm in my building. Said genius let the fire extinguisher off on my floor, so when my roommate and I stumble into the hallway (in embarassingly short pajamas) all we see is a thick cloud of white smoke and so we bolt.

Outside.
In the cold.
At 3 30 AM.

Only to be told an hour and a half later that 1st and 2nd floor residents can return to their floor, but since the mess is on 3rd, we are not allowed back on our floor until they clean it up around mid morning.

List of Things I Will Do To The Responsible Douche Bag:

1. In keeping with my piratical instincts; keelhaul
2. Possible tarring and feathering, followed with either the aforementioned keelhauling or being run out of town on a rail.
3. Laying this person out on the train tracks a la Snidley Whiplash and waiting for one of the reliable Helena trains to do the job.
4. Perform some sort of military style sleep deprivation torture, akin to what I am currently experiencing.
5. Good, old fashioned beating. With a bag of potatoes for internal damage, and then a fire extinguisher for some poetic justice.
6. I am envisioning a mob scene with pitchforks, torches, and maybe a battering ram on this person's doorstep.
7. Also on their doorstep; flaming poop. Tons of it.
8. Please look up the monologue Wesley gives to Humperdinck about pain in The Princess Bride.
9. Bitch slap.
10. If this person is a male; family jewels. Female; nipple piercings.


I know this list may seem harsh to you, so I just have to say...

never ever mess with my REM cycle.

Fall (TallBallSmallCallGall...Rall?)

The leaves have started to crunch under my feet, and tea with mint in it has become comforting. I have lit my pumpkin candle, and cardigans are practical in their mid-weightiness.

And I'm not ready. I feel this transition sneaking up too quickly. I'm not ready for cider with cinnamon sticks, or pumpkin patches, or big bowls of metallic wrapped candy. The holiday season is too precious to just spring itself on me like this, and it happened so quickly I don't know whether to slap on my sweaters and start raking leaves, or stubbornly wear shorts and wait until mid-October, when it rightfully should start feeling this way.

Regardless, I've shut myself away this week to get work done, and I feel like a newborn panda blinking in the sun this weekend when I've spent hours at coffee shops. So many people! So many hellos to say! How do people do this all the time? In seventh grade I wanted to be a hermit in the Yukon. Maybe I'll return to that plan. I'm much more productive that way.

Obviously ADD has struck today...and it has struck hard. With Thor's mighty hammer. Talk Like a Pirate Day on Friday was a wee bit disappointing, but avast! I still got to threaten to keelhaul mutinous lily-livered scallywags. Pretty satisfying.

Gerber Daisies and How I Found Out I'm Arrogant

At the end of my summer vacation this year, I packed up my things and moved back to school. While I was unpacking my storage unit full of things I had left behind, I realized how much crap I have. My parents were barely able to fit all of it into my dad's Tahoe (which, for reference, is roughly the size of the nation of Chad), and when we got to the small room allotted to me in the apartment, it was ridiculous to imagine how I would ever find creative and geometric ways to fit all of it. So I had to get rid of about ninety percent of it. In past years, this would have been so difficult. I would have found excuses for each piece of rubbish I owned ("Oh, but THIS bottle of multi-vitamins has gel caps, and who knows when I'll be in need of ingesting plastic?").

Surprisingly, when I opened all of the boxes with my wayward possessions this time, I felt no attachment. I sifted through the old video games, the back issues of Glamour, the eighty thousand candles in assorted scents, and old Snoopy adorned purses...and I simply closed the boxes again. The only thing bothering me about the whole ordeal was the fact that I held on to all the meaningless pieces of junk for so long. That I had complicated my life with things.

Why did I hide behind things? I went shopping for clothes when I had no money. I bought movies even though friends owned them. I was afraid to see who I would be without a barricade of consumerism to protect me. If people couldn't tell who I was from the movies and music I liked, and from how I dressed, I didn't want to take the time to let them in.

Well, my room is much much emptier currently. My checking account is perilously low, but I'm able to admit that to my friends now. (Really, guys, it's just pathetic). I didn't do any before-school shopping trips, and I wear the same jeans for a whole week. I also forget to wear make up a lot now. I still spend a bit too much on coffee, but I compensate by stealing my produce from the school cafeteria.

Life's pretty awesome.

Also, you have permission to call me a disgusting hypocrite, because I found a John Mayer song I can't get out of my head.