...if Spring Break doesn't hurry up and get here soon, I'm gonna lose it. I can't wait to have this appellate brief done and turned in, and I CAN'T WAIT to go home for a week!
While I'm open to hanging out in Memphis after I graduate to work here, or moving elsewhere for that matter, I love Knoxville so much and wouldn't object one bit to going back. Maybe that's unadventurous of me or whatever, but right now I'm doing the things in life that I always wanted to do and I've not rearranged my life for another person, so I can sleep at night. I guess right now I just miss my family and the close friends who know me best, so I feel I could live close to them and be happy as a lark in the future.
I'm ready for sunshine and weather that is consistently warm. I look pasty, like dough or something. I want to put on a skirt and a t-shirt and go on my happy way.
Today I drove around Germantown for a while instead of doing work. I went to Marshalls and bought some shorts and a new lunchbox. It has insulation and it's pretty. There's a laptop case at BestBuy that matches it. It was great. Then I made my weekly trip to Super Target. Also fantastic. I bought some new highlighters so I'm ready to get down to business tomorrow. Yuck. I also got to catch up with my soulmate Chad Elmore on the phone, so all was well. I then ate a 99 cent cheese pizza (it's just so good it's sinful) and Facebooked my happy little heart out.
This blog makes me feel like a more public version of Bridget Jones. I love her. Just the way she is. I think I'll go watch that movie now, since my weekend ends as soon as I wake up tomorrow.
Until then, blog-o-sphere.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I Caved
After fighting for 14 beautiful hours, AmyPratt went back to being the Facebook stalker that she always was. I spent my time in class looking over the shoulders of my peers for a glimpse of the mini-feed. I was in the library, wondering what would happen if I missed an engagement, a birthday, a STATUS UPDATE for Pete's Sake?! I just couldn't leave those things to chance.
I logged on and instantly stopped shaking and hallucinating. There was life coursing through my veins again. You may say I'm weak, but I know I won't ever have to fight myself again. I won't ever have to sort through garbage again. I will never have to steal from my parents again.
Through my plight, I learned that law school is still super important, and that you should always do your homework. It's also okay to be dramatic, as long as you limit it to 10 minutes at the end of the day.
My name is Amy, and I'm a facebookaholic.
I logged on and instantly stopped shaking and hallucinating. There was life coursing through my veins again. You may say I'm weak, but I know I won't ever have to fight myself again. I won't ever have to sort through garbage again. I will never have to steal from my parents again.
Through my plight, I learned that law school is still super important, and that you should always do your homework. It's also okay to be dramatic, as long as you limit it to 10 minutes at the end of the day.
My name is Amy, and I'm a facebookaholic.
Facebook Free, Day 1
I deactivated my account at about 9:30 am after sneaking a peek at status updates. I've been Facebook free for about 13 hours. It's torture. Was I really that obsessed with the 'book? Apparently so. That is undeniably sad.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
It was bound to happen. The blog had to change. And like Barack Obama says, "yeah, it's time for a change." So I made good--no, better--on my promise to revamp the blog in 6-18 months!
Instead of "The Essential Memphis Experience," I switched to the current name of "The Essential AmyPratt Experience" because I find I'm usually splitting my time between the sides of the state, and I don't talk about Memphis all that much, and since I blab about myself all the time anyway, why not take self-absorbed to the next level? I decided to morph my name into one word as well, as people have been calling me AmyPratt, one word, since the ripe age of 5. I used to hate it, but I've decided that if/when I marry, I'm keeping all my names. It's just who I am, no offense to marriage or chivalry or anything else like that. I'm just a double-namer.
Sometimes I think blogging is ridiculous, because you come across as a little self-absorbed in thinking that people actually want to take time out of their busy lives to read the crap that you write; however, sometimes you just have to share the inner-workings of your mind, and I'm not forcing you to read or to care. So, I continue to take up space in the blog-o-sphere with my obnoxious picture and one word name.
In the spirit of Lent and all that is holy, I decided to quit the Facebook for 40 days and nights. Never before in my life have I observed Lent, and let me be honest in saying that my quitting Facebook is for my own intents and purposes, but why not join in the season of sacrifice and see where it might lead?
If you know me fairly well, you may have noted that at times I tend to be a bit, well, dramatic. Anytime my parents and I had a "discussion" about my behavior, it always ended in my sobbing and my mom scolding "Oh stop being so dramatic!" I've learned in recent years that I'm a passionate person, which more often than not turns out to be a bad thing; I get something on my mind or in my heart, and I go for it in full force, hence, the dramatics.
Facebook gets me all dramatic sometimes. I log on for a quick peek at status updates, which leads to my noticing something about somebody I don't like on somebody's profile, which leads to stalking the wall-to-wall, which leads to me shouting "who does that hussy think she is?!" which leads to Googling to see if the "hussy" is prettier than I am (since her profile is private, of course), which ends with me sending dramatic text messages to my girlfriends and realizing that I wasted an hour and a half of my precious time. Lather, rinse, repeat. Rational people just don't do such things.
I think it's just silly for me to stress out over trivial things that are probably just all in my head. It's stupid to get mad at people because they don't return your wall post or respond to your chat invitation. I left Middle School almost 10 years ago, so it's probably time to shake that mindset. It's also pretty sad that there have been nights when I've done less than satisfactory work for school or skipped doing my daily devotional because I'm too tired from all my cyber stalking. Who knows what result this little experiment will yield, if anything at all. I'm just trying to gain a little perspective and get my priorities in line. Lord knows I'm a mess.
So, here's to priorities, perspective, and passion (but with fewer dramatics).
Instead of "The Essential Memphis Experience," I switched to the current name of "The Essential AmyPratt Experience" because I find I'm usually splitting my time between the sides of the state, and I don't talk about Memphis all that much, and since I blab about myself all the time anyway, why not take self-absorbed to the next level? I decided to morph my name into one word as well, as people have been calling me AmyPratt, one word, since the ripe age of 5. I used to hate it, but I've decided that if/when I marry, I'm keeping all my names. It's just who I am, no offense to marriage or chivalry or anything else like that. I'm just a double-namer.
Sometimes I think blogging is ridiculous, because you come across as a little self-absorbed in thinking that people actually want to take time out of their busy lives to read the crap that you write; however, sometimes you just have to share the inner-workings of your mind, and I'm not forcing you to read or to care. So, I continue to take up space in the blog-o-sphere with my obnoxious picture and one word name.
In the spirit of Lent and all that is holy, I decided to quit the Facebook for 40 days and nights. Never before in my life have I observed Lent, and let me be honest in saying that my quitting Facebook is for my own intents and purposes, but why not join in the season of sacrifice and see where it might lead?
If you know me fairly well, you may have noted that at times I tend to be a bit, well, dramatic. Anytime my parents and I had a "discussion" about my behavior, it always ended in my sobbing and my mom scolding "Oh stop being so dramatic!" I've learned in recent years that I'm a passionate person, which more often than not turns out to be a bad thing; I get something on my mind or in my heart, and I go for it in full force, hence, the dramatics.
Facebook gets me all dramatic sometimes. I log on for a quick peek at status updates, which leads to my noticing something about somebody I don't like on somebody's profile, which leads to stalking the wall-to-wall, which leads to me shouting "who does that hussy think she is?!" which leads to Googling to see if the "hussy" is prettier than I am (since her profile is private, of course), which ends with me sending dramatic text messages to my girlfriends and realizing that I wasted an hour and a half of my precious time. Lather, rinse, repeat. Rational people just don't do such things.
I think it's just silly for me to stress out over trivial things that are probably just all in my head. It's stupid to get mad at people because they don't return your wall post or respond to your chat invitation. I left Middle School almost 10 years ago, so it's probably time to shake that mindset. It's also pretty sad that there have been nights when I've done less than satisfactory work for school or skipped doing my daily devotional because I'm too tired from all my cyber stalking. Who knows what result this little experiment will yield, if anything at all. I'm just trying to gain a little perspective and get my priorities in line. Lord knows I'm a mess.
So, here's to priorities, perspective, and passion (but with fewer dramatics).
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Nothing Good Happens After Midnight; Hence, This Blog...
I never write anything about any sort of essential Memphis experience. Look for a revamped blog layout in the next 6-18 months.
I figured out what I want this week. I also figured out that I'll probably never have it. My mom tells me that's why I want it. The only problem is I've had my heart set there for over a year now and it won't go away. Currently distracting myself with substitutes and telling my feelings on the subject to a yellow legal pad.
Vowing to be more productive is backfiring, I think. I put in 2 really good days of work this week, and then I was worn out. Maybe I need to do things in moderation? I think I'm a completely worthless law student and maybe I'm here so I'll learn I'm not supposed to be here. I still can't CREAC correctly. This brief is going to be a disaster. I've considered just staying awake for a few days straight just to get caught up. Too bad that won't happen.
I miss Knoxville. I miss UT. I miss my Knoxville friends and being ridiculously happy. I'm looking forward to Spring Break so I can go home and see people.
Kelly and I just got two guinea pigs, James and Jim. They chase each other around all the time, so I bet they're gay. They hide in this sparkly pink plastic igloo. Then again, I bought them the sparkly pink plastic igloo, so maybe I should quit my bitchin'. Leave it to me to have a couple of queer pets. Story of my life.
I've been having the same dream for months now that I'm taking a set of undergraduate classes while I'm in law school. The problem is I get so busy with law school that I forget to do my homework for my Spanish and English classes so I'm never prepared for class. I also show up incredibly late and somehow manage to forget to attend one of the classes, taught by my poetry professor junior year. I also forget to buy the books for the classes, which are thin and yellow or red, so I end up BS-ing my way through each class. I had this dream twice this week. Someone interpret it for me and tell me how to fix it.
Some days I feel really old, some days I feel immature and young. It's like Britney said, "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman." It's one of those awkward transition years. I'm going out on a limb here and deeming this the third most awkward year of my life, coming in behind 5th grade and freshman year of college. Now that's saying something.
Troubling things about Memphis? Paternity Test Tuesdays on K97, and the radio ads "Chill, Don't Kill." Still, we have Elvis, Beale Street, and Bar-be-que; things even out.
That was dismal. That was much needed. I'm off now to go make dilemmanade.
I figured out what I want this week. I also figured out that I'll probably never have it. My mom tells me that's why I want it. The only problem is I've had my heart set there for over a year now and it won't go away. Currently distracting myself with substitutes and telling my feelings on the subject to a yellow legal pad.
Vowing to be more productive is backfiring, I think. I put in 2 really good days of work this week, and then I was worn out. Maybe I need to do things in moderation? I think I'm a completely worthless law student and maybe I'm here so I'll learn I'm not supposed to be here. I still can't CREAC correctly. This brief is going to be a disaster. I've considered just staying awake for a few days straight just to get caught up. Too bad that won't happen.
I miss Knoxville. I miss UT. I miss my Knoxville friends and being ridiculously happy. I'm looking forward to Spring Break so I can go home and see people.
Kelly and I just got two guinea pigs, James and Jim. They chase each other around all the time, so I bet they're gay. They hide in this sparkly pink plastic igloo. Then again, I bought them the sparkly pink plastic igloo, so maybe I should quit my bitchin'. Leave it to me to have a couple of queer pets. Story of my life.
I've been having the same dream for months now that I'm taking a set of undergraduate classes while I'm in law school. The problem is I get so busy with law school that I forget to do my homework for my Spanish and English classes so I'm never prepared for class. I also show up incredibly late and somehow manage to forget to attend one of the classes, taught by my poetry professor junior year. I also forget to buy the books for the classes, which are thin and yellow or red, so I end up BS-ing my way through each class. I had this dream twice this week. Someone interpret it for me and tell me how to fix it.
Some days I feel really old, some days I feel immature and young. It's like Britney said, "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman." It's one of those awkward transition years. I'm going out on a limb here and deeming this the third most awkward year of my life, coming in behind 5th grade and freshman year of college. Now that's saying something.
Troubling things about Memphis? Paternity Test Tuesdays on K97, and the radio ads "Chill, Don't Kill." Still, we have Elvis, Beale Street, and Bar-be-que; things even out.
That was dismal. That was much needed. I'm off now to go make dilemmanade.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Growing Up Is Getting Old
You really have to applaud Michael Jackson for the concept of the Neverland Ranch. No, no, I'm not condoning his sleepovers with underage boys (But do talk to me later for a joke about what Mr. Jackson and Sears have in common), but I am giving him props for the fact that, somewhere in that delusional mind of his, he realized what a drag it is to grow up. Jack-O baby, I'm feeling your pain.
I just spent the better part of an hour browsing a bunch of pictures from when I was an undergrad. I had a smile a mile wide. I know I wasn't doing homework then, I had been through only one gay boyfriend so far, and being with my friends 24/7 didn't wear me out. I didn't have a clue what I was going to be doing in 5-10 years, and judging by the look on my face, I don't think I really cared. Sure, I'm only 8 months out of college, but I miss that time already. More than anything though, my trip down Memory Lane made me a little scared.
There was this guy I used to make fun of because he said high school was "the best time of my life." He and his friends ruled the school, he got to play football, and the girls wanted him (That had to be a stretch; he was as tall as a frickin' Keebler Elf). I giggled at the cliche then, but I shudder at it now. Right now, I'm tired as hell, and watching Forensic Files in my PJs now qualifies as "weekend plans." I'm so terrified that at 23, I've had "the best time of my life."
Even until last year, I had my life on a timeline--Married by 27, kids done by 35, Golden Retriever named Max--it was arbitrary and immature and wonderful. Now, I have no idea what to expect because I have no idea what I even want. I've realized I'm more selfish than I ever knew how to be because my time and energy are precious, and I want it all to myself. The thought of committing to even a dating relationship right now makes me squirm, I can't decide where to live this summer, and I usually buy way too many groceries because I don't even know what I like to eat for dinner anymore. Let's not even start on the fact that I don't believe in falling in love anymore, which is something I've wanted since I could breathe. My head is in a big conflict with my heart and I hate it. I'm scared that not knowing what I want is going to drag me into a position of complacency. But more than anything, I'm terrified that I'm trapped in a never-ending Taylor Swift song, where I lose my virginity to the captain of the football team, get abandoned by a fictional character, and then sit on the curb and cry all over myself as I watch some hussy and the love of my life, named Drew, hug all over each other and be in love. That's just not how I pictured me.
That was sufficiently depressing. I'm now going to crawl into my bed and read vampire love stories. Night.
I just spent the better part of an hour browsing a bunch of pictures from when I was an undergrad. I had a smile a mile wide. I know I wasn't doing homework then, I had been through only one gay boyfriend so far, and being with my friends 24/7 didn't wear me out. I didn't have a clue what I was going to be doing in 5-10 years, and judging by the look on my face, I don't think I really cared. Sure, I'm only 8 months out of college, but I miss that time already. More than anything though, my trip down Memory Lane made me a little scared.
There was this guy I used to make fun of because he said high school was "the best time of my life." He and his friends ruled the school, he got to play football, and the girls wanted him (That had to be a stretch; he was as tall as a frickin' Keebler Elf). I giggled at the cliche then, but I shudder at it now. Right now, I'm tired as hell, and watching Forensic Files in my PJs now qualifies as "weekend plans." I'm so terrified that at 23, I've had "the best time of my life."
Even until last year, I had my life on a timeline--Married by 27, kids done by 35, Golden Retriever named Max--it was arbitrary and immature and wonderful. Now, I have no idea what to expect because I have no idea what I even want. I've realized I'm more selfish than I ever knew how to be because my time and energy are precious, and I want it all to myself. The thought of committing to even a dating relationship right now makes me squirm, I can't decide where to live this summer, and I usually buy way too many groceries because I don't even know what I like to eat for dinner anymore. Let's not even start on the fact that I don't believe in falling in love anymore, which is something I've wanted since I could breathe. My head is in a big conflict with my heart and I hate it. I'm scared that not knowing what I want is going to drag me into a position of complacency. But more than anything, I'm terrified that I'm trapped in a never-ending Taylor Swift song, where I lose my virginity to the captain of the football team, get abandoned by a fictional character, and then sit on the curb and cry all over myself as I watch some hussy and the love of my life, named Drew, hug all over each other and be in love. That's just not how I pictured me.
That was sufficiently depressing. I'm now going to crawl into my bed and read vampire love stories. Night.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Disclaimer
The views expressed in all blog postings are mere generalizations and at times, slight exaggerations. I've had questions (not that I have a readership or anything), so I thought I'd clear that up. Serious problems with any specific person will be addressed outside the blog-o-sphere.
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