The Creep Saga

 

It’s a new semester here at my University. That means new teachers, new classes, new opportunities, new friends, and new residents in my dorm building. Only a few people moved out last semester so there aren’t that many unfamiliar faces.

However, with this new semester also comes a new special someone in my life. He’s a new resident to the building, possibly new to the school, I couldn’t really tell you. At first when he would come around while my friends and I hung out in the lobby, we didn’t really notice… He was new, he’d want to try to make friends. The weird thing, though, was that he didn’t really talk when he came around. He would just sit and listen, not trying to really socialize. Now, I’m not trying to say that not talking when you’re in a new group of tight knit people is the wrong thing to do, I get it, I’m shy too.

Eventually he started speaking up, which is fine. However, it wasn’t about anything substantial and instead of talking to the whole group, he only talked to one of us. That’s all good and well… you know… make one friend, then more… I get the method.  He never really branched out that first night though.

The next day I was helping an RA in the building make a bulletin board, and my friend Jessica was around. He came down stairs, got some candy, saw us, then disappeared. I thought he just went up to his room, as we were at the main entrance to our building. A few minutes later, though, he comes through the main entrance…

I think it was in that moment Jessica and I realized that he stares.… He just watches you as he walks past. I mean that’s a little creepy, but ok, maybe it’s just something he doesn’t realize he does…

It got a little weird when he came in and out a few times… but no big deal. We finished up, and headed to the store to pick up some odds and ends before the new semester started. Jessica mentioned to me and our friend in the car that he was a little creepy, and that he had kept staring at her when we had been talking. I had to agree… I don’t like being watched, so I definitely noticed when he stared at her. 

This is how it seems:

 

None of this sounds really weird, I get that. He’s just a new guy who doesn’t have many friends who just happens to stare at people… Things got weird when we got to the store. I say that we had discussed heading to wal-mart when we had been downstairs, and that he had more than likely heard us saying where we were headed.

We were in the front of the store waiting for our other friends to arrive, and it had only been a minute or two when he walked in…

Now this could easily be a coincidence, fine. It’s still a little eerie, though.

We didn’t see him again for a couple of days, but whenever we’ve been downstairs, whether to get water, or hang out in the lobby he’s been there.

He’s even creepy about mooching off of people… My boyfriend just had his birthday and he got a ton of pizza from his family as a gift. He had managed to eat his way through to the last few slices over a few days, and brought some over to eat. He was down to his last piece when this happened:

Maybe he’s not creepy, maybe he is. I’m standing my ground, though, and I’ll keep you updated.

Glacial Retreating

I’m sick today, and I remembered a cartoon I drew in class last week when my professor was talking about global climate change, and how the glaciers are melting away….

Enjoy!

Hide the Fire!

 

When I was 11 my best friend, Joy, was having a sleep over at her house.  It was just Joy, our friend Ashley, and myself. It was a pretty typical night. We created dramatic situations with dolls, that probably resembled One Tree Hill or the old soap opera Passions.

Also, we played truth or dare. I do remember one dare from that night in particular. It involved duct taping cheese slices to my leg, and then our friend Ashley pulling them off with her  mouth… 

In our minds it looked something like this…

It actually happened like this….

(I was NOT that hairy, by the way, and there was a lot more cheese than that! It did talk, though.)

By the time we had taped what we figured to be “enough” cheese, it had started melting due to my body heat. This was also before any of us learned what shaving was… Needless to say it was a bit of a hairy situation. Instead of her pulling it off with her mouth it was decided just getting it off of my legs was optimal. After that we decided that it was time to quit playing.

This is where the night takes a turn for the worse… We had wanted to go camping originally. However, for whatever reason we hadn’t been allowed to or it didn’t pan out. That didn’t deter us. After midnight at some point we decided that we could still have our camp fire.

By George we could use a candle!

But wait, there’s more! Not only could this candle be our camp fire, but we could roast mini weenies over it! The one little flame didn’t suffice, though. So we, of course, decided that putting a bunch of matches and starting a fire in there would work!

Well it didn’t, and we were pretty disappointed that the mini weenies weren’t actually cooking.

We were even more disappointed when the glass the candle was in decided to break, taking half of the candle with it, and sliding onto joy’s carpeted floor.

That was a bummer. It also really sucked when that patch of carpet went up in flames.

What did we do, being logical 11 year olds who had only been taught to stop drop and roll, at this point? Pour water on it!

Unfortunately that somehow made it worse.

Logically, the next step to putting it out was to grab joy’s hair dryer and blow on the fire. Duh. You blow out birthday candles, right? Same thing.

Burn, baby, burn, Joy’s room inferno! We were panicking at this point, and of course we didn’t wake her parents, because we wouldn’t want to get in trouble! Finally, in the commotion, Ashley grabbed a towel and threw it on the flames, stamping them out.

(There wasn’t actually a towel length of fire, it just seemed that way.)

The room was filled with smoke, the most we could do was open the window to air the place out. We put a bean bag chair over the patch of burnt carpet, and when Joy’s mom came in an hour or two later asking what that smell was, she answered “We lit a candle”.

That patch of carpet stayed hidden for a couple of years, however her mom found it and had to get the carpet replaced.

The moral of the story? LET US CAMP!!!!!!

This is me on Stress

 

There are two versions of myself.

1) Normal me

Normal me is still not normal. Normal me dances in my underwear more than normal other person does. Normal me still goes through fifty million stages of weirdness in a week. Ok.. maybe not fifty million… maybe only like 25 million, but you get it right?

Normal me sings and dances and eats right. Normal me tries to go to the gym. Normal me does normal human things. I put on make up and do my hair, and even have some sense of fashion (not the best but still I look cute…).

You get the picture.

If you don’t, here’s a picture of normal me:

Then there is stressed me.  Stressed me stays up late every night. Stressed me hides from everything that normal me needs to do.  This hiding usually involves me in the corner of my bottom bunk curled up in some awkward position talking in a really quiet voice while Captain Cool tries to convince me to come out and handle things.

Too bad Stressed me doesn’t listen to Captain Cool and just deal. Stressed me acts like a child and doesn’t do any work at all. When I do come out of my corner I usually just start doing something crafty or fun.

I guess my mind thinks along the lines of if I do come out of hiding and then do something crafty or fun then it will get my brain ready for homework. Too bad I’m extremely elaborate with everything that I do… so it usually takes hours. Then by the time I’m done with it I feel this sense of accomplishment and I act like I just won some battle.

Then I look over my shoulder and see my books…

Then I freak out even more and crawl back into my cave.

Stressed me eats candy for dinner because I’m too freaked out to cook or go get something. Stressed me gains weight. Stressed me says, “I’ll go to the gym tomorrow…” and by tomorrow I mean in about three weeks.

Stressed me doesn’t wear nice clothes because I don’t care anymore, and in an attempt to get more sleep I end up sleeping late and then waking up and putting on whatever I grab first.

Stressed me doesn’t have time and frankly doesn’t give a damn about doing my hair. It generally just turns into this gross monster of curls that lives on top of my head. I’m pretty convinced that all of my stress actually lives in this pseudo-afro. I say this because as soon as I’m not stressed my hair monster usually calms down and dies, and because long, straight, and pretty again.

Then again maybe it’s because I have time to deal with it.

Whatever, for all intents and purposes my stress lives in my hair monster.

Stressed me doesn’t clean. This stresses me out even more because then in my stressed mind I’m convinced that my roommate actually hates me for this and has no understanding of why I can’t clean right now. Even though Roomie is actually a very understanding and casual person.

Stressed me skips classes that stressed me needs to go to so that I can learn and prosper as a student. Stressed me figures that I’ll use this time to do productive things.

No, I use this time to play games or talk to people on facebook or…. you know… blog.

This is a picture of stressed me:

 

I like to think that Normal me and Stressed me can cohabitate and that they work hand in hand every day, ya know? When things stress me out Normal me can handle it, and when things are ultra normal stressed me is like “hey at least you’re not stressed!”

It’s brilliant on a normal day.

However, the days that stress takes over are horrendous because it’s not just one day, it’s usually a week. The evil college system convinces all of my teachers to give tests at the exact same time every time.

It’s a conspiracy theory, I’m sure.

Stressed me tries to deal with things, really I do. However, stressed me often comes up with plans like this:

This plan ends up stressing me out even more because then it is the night before a final exam that determines my grade and my admission into the college of business, and two papers due and I have nothing done!

Then my insides feel like this:

(That really is a horrible color, I’ve only ever seen it used for vomit)

Inside my brain everything is running around and tripping on things and the inside of my brain is like AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Which leads to me in a corner freaking out because in my head homework looks like this:

 

I eventually man up and just deal with the homework, and it returns to it’s normal state. However, it usually takes a lot longer than if normal me were just handling it immediately.

There doesn’t really seem to be a good end to this because this actually never ends for me… so….

I’ll end it by saying that when it IS time to battle the evil monster that is my homework, I toss on my purple sparkly cape, grab my magical sword, and defeat it like the evil monster slayer that I am!

Here’s a picture of that too:

Meh. Eloquent, for sure.

I'm laying in my bed and for the second night in a row I can not sleep.

I don't know why.

Captain Cool is right beside me and he's passed out.

My stomach is in knots, I feel gross, and I'm sad. I've spent the whole day feeling completely uncomfortable in my own skin. It's a twisted circle because I feel like everyone is staring at every move I make, but then I realize no one cares that much about me. Both of those things make me feel like I'm wrong. Wrong about what? I don't know. I think that just my existence in general is just wrong.

I know, I know that's really emo. I'm not trying to be emo, though. I'm just explaining that I feel like I don't belong. I'm not looking for pity. I just have these days where I feel like I have never, and will never fit in anywhere. That's really sad.

I don't like being sad, really who does? Who enjoys this? I don't enjoy feeling like all I have as far as self esteem is an e-steaming pile of shit (See what I did there?).

When I feel like this my insides feel all twisted and I have this urge 24/7 to throw up. It's kind of ridiculous, but it is what it is. Which is ridiculous.

I feel like I can't do anything right. Every time I make a move I take 20 steps back to a safe place so that I don't get hurt or mess anything else even more.

I know it will all work out, I know that I won't always feel this way, but for now it sucks, and I want to cry.

And I won't always have posts like this, for the few who even are reading, I want to keep them fun and interesting, but I also have this thing where I feel like I can't talk to anyone about anything because they might judge/hate/stab/throw things at me.

I might be crazy.

Sleep Weirdo

There's this thing in my life. It's like a parasite, constantly latching on to me, sucking my energy levels dry. It makes these noises all the time. It slobbers on me. It makes me reprimand it.

It is 5'7, blonde, and squishy.

It is my boyfriend.

... I know, right? You probably thought I was talking about a puppy. Fooled you! Ha.

Anywho, this thing wants me to call it Captain Cool in my blogs, as I've granted anonymity to anyone I post about that wants it. I guess I will...

I bring up Captain Cool today, because he will probably be in a lot of my blog posts.

Also, I suggest that when picturing up you imagine a super hero. With a cape. It gives more meaning to his code name.

Now that I've described Captain Cool to you let me tell you about something he does when we sleep. We will be in bed sleeping and suddenly I will be woken up by his mumbling. He's a sleep talker. Our nights usually go something like this:

Me: *Snore* *Snore*
Captain Cool: mumlai (at least that's how it sounds to me when I'm first waking up)
Me: Wha?
Captain Cool: She's so beautiful....
Me: Huh? Who? Whaaaaaa?
Captain Cool: I love you
Me: I love you too

Then I realize he's asleep make this - T_T- face and shove him until he wakes up. He's a sleep complimenter and it's really sweet. I am certainly not complaining.

However, he is not always a sleep complimenter, he is often a Sleep Weirdo.

I was once woken up at 3 AM to him saying "Open Up" and sticking his index finger in my mouth.

Also, the other day he woke me up saying "It's a 3 by 5 piece of foam! It's the perfect size!"

Do you see what I mean? Sleep Weirdo. 


It has occurred to me that maybe those two have relation to one another, though. Maybe Captain Cool has the secret desire to be a dentist. He may have been dreaming of giving me a dental check up when he probed his finger into my mouth that night. Perhaps the foam was the perfect size to fit a retainer or some head gear.

Who knows?

He certainly doesn't. I always tell him the things he says and does, and he never remembers them or why they happen.

I can say this though, if he does have this deep seeded fantasy of becoming a dentist our relationship might not last. Dentist's are scary, mean, and intimidating. He can be a sleep weirdo all he wants, but the moment he tries to put a power drill to one of my teeth during my sleep it is over. I think that is a very reasonable place to draw the line.

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I told this cool dude Austin I would talk about him a blog, so here's a shout out to him.

Techno Blaring

A consistent theme to my day to day life has become being woken up by the lovely sounds of techno music blaring from the third floor of my dorm building.

At 8:45 AM....

and, I live on the Fifth Floor...

It was fine the first time, three weeks ago, when I just rolled back over and fell back asleep.
The second time it was... fine... I needed to wake up anyways right?

Every time after that it has pissed me off.

So here is my message to you Third-Floor-Morning-Techno-Blaring-Douche-Kabob:

I like sleeping, a lot. I loooooove sleeping. Sleeping is key to my daily mood. I understand playing music in the morning to get pumped up. However, you live TWO floors below me. Two whole floors. So I shouldn't be able to hear your music, I shouldn't be able to place my hand on my wall and feel the bass from your music.
 AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- this is how you make me feel when you wake me and when you keep me up!
Maybe you're losing your hearing? It seems like a vicious cycle, though. You're going deaf, so you're blaring your music. Here's a little thought- you're going deaf because you're blaring your music.

Do us both a favor and turn down your music. You'll hear better, I'll sleep more, and then I'll be in a better mood and won't attack you through my blog anymore.

P.S. Exams start in one week. If this continues I will end you.