That's More Like It

My #1 concern of the day is that Kelly's guinea pig, James, is being a complete bully to my guinea pig, Jim. She says they are playing. I say they are not. I think that Jim is having a crisis, that he's possibly "coming out" of his pink igloo castle, and that James is a big homophobe. Or it could be that James is taunting Jim about his dry skin, or his un-cool hair. Anytime Jim is eating on the cabbage kabob, James pushes him out of the way. He chases him and won't leave him alone. Today I yelled "James, you a******, leave my Jimmy alone!" and he did. He knows what he's doing. Hrrmmph.

In other news, yesterday I had to draw some pictures for Kelly for her to analyze for school. I drew a tree, a house, and a person. My crayola drawings indicate I have depression, sexual frustration, tension, and that I need attention. That about sums it up.

The quote of the week comes from my property book, talking about whether or not an implied warranty is a tort or contract concept or maybe a (wait for it, wait for it) "freak hybrid born of the illicit intercourse of tort and contract." I don't even want to THINK about torts and contracts having intercourse and producing a freak-hybrid love-child. If any areas need to be having intercourse, it's property and contracts, all those dang real estate contracts and clauses and stuff. Still. That was a visual I could do without.

Now I am going to do something of substance. I just had all these things swirling in my head and I knew I needed to get them out once silent, moving lips began to accompany my inner monologue. My sister calls me out on that one. Frequently.

A Very Cliche Blog and Then Some

The amorphous "they," as my high school English teacher always put it, were right: the grass is always greener on the other side.

I've been on Spring Break about 72 hours or more, if you count the weekend, and at about hour 64, I ran back to my OneNote program and broke open the Civ Pro binder for a little outlining fun. Yeah, it really is a have-to, unless I'd like to make my time after break a little more chaotic, but I've pretty much determined that I have to stay busy to keep from thinking too much. Not that I think about anything of substance, but if I don't keep a check on myself, my imagination runs away from me. And let me tell ya, my imagination is active. And no, I don't mean like that, pervert.

Have I already been over how that Britney Spears' song "Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman" is how I feel about life in general right now? I took my sister to the hospital today for some blood work. The check-in lady and the male nurse both referred to me as "mom." My sister is almost 14! I was not even wearing my mom jeans, thank you very much. So I look old enough to have procreated, but I have not undertaken that crucial step which would enable me to procreate, if you catch my drift. Which leads me to my next point.

It shouldn't bother me, but it does. I feel like I see on Facebook 100 girls a week getting engaged. They're all my age or younger. Don't get me wrong; I'm in no way mature enough or even school/career-wise at the point where I could be in a relationship of this magnitude. I just feel like my growth in that area of my life has been stunted. Always. What does it say about me that the two "serious" relationships I've had have been with guys who later came out of the closet? I try to make light of it as best I can, but there's no denying that at the end of the day, it bothers me. I think I run straight men off because I'm over-eager. I see something I want and I go for it. I'm slowly learning that's not the way things work. I just get so angry at myself that I have the desire for non-platonic male companionship, especially when I don't have the time, especially especially when my heart is set in a certain place and I know deep down that that desire will never come to fruition. Just like Charlie Brown said, nothing ruins the taste of peanut butter like unrequited love.

Ok, please don't mistake that as a cry to the male population for a date. Just something that's consistently on my heart that I had to get off my chest. Forgive me if that was a little too personal.

Alright. I vow to enjoy Spring Break to the fullest until I run back to Memphis and start the same old song and dance again, claiming to be miserable with the endless work, while I secretly enjoy it.

As I Lay Brief-Writing: My Faulkner Stream of Consciousness Blog

You're right. They're all stream-of-consciousness. So be it.

I'm tired of establishing that immigrants do not have a well-founded fear of persecution for the purposes of this brief.

I wish I could unsubscribe from certain Facebook statuses, mainly the ones by college-educated people who misuse my beloved apostrophe on a day-to-day basis. I also hate when people don't proofread. It takes a literal second.

Today I realized I'm am pop-culturally irrelevant. I was running to Soulja Boy's "Crank dat" and realized that I don't remember how to "superman dat hoe." This is Memphis, for cryin' out loud! I also received an email that one of my friends would like to keep up with me via Twitter. I first thought it was either pornographic or something for hummingbirds. Then I saw that people updated Facebook via Twitter. I still don't know what it is exactly, but I think it is technologically related.

I'm ELATED to be in Knoxville in a few days. After rendezvous-ing with the fam and babysitting my little "babe" Stephen, I'm going to spend as much time on UT's campus as possible. I would like: sweet-potato fries on Wine Night at Sunspot; to skip down the pedestrian walkway and jump all over the UT seal; get an escort to the new SK floor in Laurel and scream down the hallway; do Sudoku in the Daily Beacon in the ampitheathre; Facebook on a computer in The Commons; eat greasy pizza at Smokey's; pass Wayne Chism on my way into Humanities; have myself surgically removed from half-court of Thompson-Boling; drink a SoCo and Lime at Half Barrell; and yes, even take the 90-something steps up The Hill. I miss that place like nobody's business. So...if anybody wants to help me make those dreams come true, you know how to find me.

Ok, back to the brief. I have nothing more to say.