TOSHIBA A500 Restore from Disk

A lot of you are going to be like 'WTF'.

I'm doing this for everyone out there who has ever had to reset their Toshiba from scratch. Now, I'm actually doing my sister's computer from scratch.

I wanted to kill myself every step of the way.

If you google how to reinstall or recover a Toshiba A505, you're going to get some of the most standard steps known to man. I am the idiot who didn't immediately create recovery disks upon receipt of my baby. Luckily, my computer works fine whereas my sister's computer (which is a carbon copy a.k.a. exact model) of my own so I created the 5piece recovery disks from my own laptop.

The road was rocky.

Very rocky.

 I'm no computer whiz but I'll lay out for you the most popular answers -

"

"there's an invisible image inbuilt. use it."

or the ever popular - 

"2)Shut down your computer, turn it on then immediately press "f8" repeatedly then u will see the option at the bottom of the screen "press f2 to log to boot manager" press it fast or else you'll have to repeat everything again 

3)Then there is the option at the top "To access advanced boot option press "f8" ,press it. 

3)Under "Advanced Boot Option",highlight the option"Repair Your Computer" and press enter. 3)System recovery option menu will show up, select country and keyboard layout then press next. 

4)Then there is the option to log in as a local user so you can access recovery option,enter your password. 

5)After that the "System Recovery Option" will be visible,just choose what action u like 
a)Start up Repair 
b)System Restore 
c)Windows PC Complete Restore 
d)Windows Memory diagnostic tool 
e)Command Prompt 
f)Toshiba Recovery Wizard. 

Select "Toshiba|Recovery Wizard",then select the option that says "Restore to factory default out of box state." 

6)There will be a warning that all files will be lost, dont worry just go on because all the files will be rewritten just like when u first bought it. Cheers


 The problem with these answers is that not a damn one worked for me. My sister's computer must be part of the Illuminati - it consulted Lucifer every step of the way. Anything I did was moot when I tried to access the in-built partition to try and fix the computer for free without disks.

So, in came the plan to create the recovery disks.

This is my revised list of steps of what to do when you need to get that shit fixed.

BE ADVISED, THIS ISH TAKES 3HOURS MINIMUM.

1) Steal or make a copy of Toshiba recovery disks. You have to do it from a computer like yours otherwise it won't do a damned thing.

2) Hit up the toshiba forums. Luckily I'm just going to copy and paste what that damned User Guide said with some edits.

3) Put the first disc in the drive, and then load up the computer. Hit F12 like a mo'fo to get to the boot screen.

4) Once that boot screen loads up, you're going to want to use your down arrow to get to cd/dvd then hit enter.

5) Now, at this point everyone magically acts like shit will happen all at once. This is a LIE. A LIE. This is why you shouldn't be alarmed that

• the screen resolution is large enough for even shortsighted grandma to read
• there's a hell of a lot of waiting time - I stared down a blank black screen for about ten minutes before that massive WARNING THE END IS NEAR sign popped up asking me if I would be okay with deleting my sister's life away.
• 
  

6) Click yes to being okay about deleting your life away. The answer is almost always going to be yes, folks.

7) Another magical ten minute wait while Windows tells you it's 'loading files' or something like that. You might find it useful to pick up that book you've been meaning to get to for some light reading. I started a new kdrama - hey, whatever works for ya.

8) Now you're going to get to that magical grey screen of system recovery. It is REALLY IMPORTANT that you follow the next steps carefully.

11) RECOVERY OF FACTORY DEFAULT SOFTWARE. Then click next.

12) RECOVERY OUT OF BOX STATE. Then next.

13) Then the instructions usually say something like follow instructions bloah blah blah it'll tell you when the drive is recovered...
Also a lie from the enemy.


14) Don't worry yourself. This is going to take a long time. Another grey screen came up with something along the lines of preparing or downloading or something (can't remember, brain is numb) and it ran through three discs.

Here's my problem - I also have a windows recovery envrionemtn 64 bit disk (the fourth created) and a toshiba apps and drivers (the fifth and final one).

So when it told me it was done after 3 discs I was HELLA CONFUSED. Note that this took around 2 hours to complete just step 14.

15) Okay cool. It restarsts itself, still with that mega resolution that makes sure I'm going to have a grand headache.

16) Prepare yourself for the tricky part (note, a long drink of cold water will be helpful and maybe some Advil, since God knew I needed it...). It'll go through normal startup protocol succesfully.

Or at least it should - if it doesn't, you're royally screwed.

Anyway it'll go through the usual steps of starting itself and hit the start up screen and then the pretty blue 'log in, master' screen and it'll override that function and just enter.

17) It will open like it's done doing everything it needs to do, that is my point. THIS IS A LIE, DO NOT BELIEVE IT. It is not finished, not by a long shot.

18) It's going to go into this Configuring System screen thing. Don't be alarmed. It'll remain there for anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes, with the status box doing its thing with the glowing green meter. That's all fine and as it should be.

19) It will leave the screen and then say 'system needs to reboot to finish installing blah blah' or something like that. It will also say
 Do not touch keyboard or touchpad.
And by God, you'd better listen to those instructions.

20)  It's going to go into this Configuring System screen thing. Again. Don't be alarmed. It'll remain there for anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes, with the status box doing its thing with the glowing green meter. That's all fine and as it should be. Again. 

21) It will leave the screen and then say 'system needs to reboot to finish installing blah blah' AGAIN or something like that. It will also say
 Do not touch keyboard or touchpad.
And by God, you'd still better listen to those instructions.

22) Excercise patience and restraint. Because steps 18 through 21 are going to repeat for the NEXT HOUR. You are going to go insane. You'll think you fucked up somewhere. You'll wonder why you spent a billion hours on the first half of reinstalling and reformatting Windows for the computer. You'll briefly consider selling said laptop on eBay for parts...or holiday gifts. You might even go so far as to get up and leave the room.
Do what you got to do.
BUT DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, TOUCH THE GOTDAMNED KEYBOARD OR TOUCHPAD.
In fact, please leave the room to lessen the temptation.

23) I nearly touched the keypad. Nearly. But I'm a great believer in waiting to see how things play out so at the last second my itty bitty fingers veered away from my itty bitty computer.

24) I'm not kidding when I said an hour will go by, give or take a quarter of it. Next  it will say 'system needs to reboot to finish installing blah blah' or something like that. It will also say
 Do not touch keyboard or touchpad.
Again, do what you're told.

25) This time it's going to log in and all that good stuff and go to a different blue page - something along the lines of checking system performance. Praise Him because you are getting close to the end. It's going to remain on this page for a little over 10 minutes.

26) Read that book. Drink that water.

27) Now it's going to exit out of that blue screen and say "processing cleanup phase Susprep plugins". GOD IS GOOD. YOU ARE AT THE END.

28) The rest is the computer telling you it's preparing for first time use then it's going to walk you through setting up user and pc name and all that good stuff.

Time taken - 4.5hours
Time wasted freaking out - 4.4 hours
Time spent thanking God for the help - 10mins

You should now be all set!

Late Night Guilt

Sometimes I feel like I might never get over it.

Earlier this summer, an older friend of mine was killed in a car accident along with all other passengers. She was well-known and well-liked among the college community, and she was (still is) sorely missed. To be honest, when I first met her I thought she was a little too curt. By the time, she graduated I looked up to her as an older sister. She was smart and nice and good - genuinely, good. She bugged me to do my homework, cajoled me into attending church regularly with her, impressed my parents, gave me good advice, was a friend.

When she died, it was like being sucker-punched.

Almost a day to the month before her birthday. I'd never had anyone close to me pass on before, nothing to look back on, nothing to compare this to.

Like...I just remember I didn't believe it for a few hours. But then everyone began panicking on her wall and I called my mother hysterical and it was confirmed and...holy shit, I'll never forget what that felt like. I just couldn't understand it. I cried before I even allowed myself to believe it, like my body was overriding my mind's adamant desire to keep holding on to hope that we were all mistaken. I have never understood what it's like to continuously - continuously - cry. Even exhausted, my face hurting from it, my skin raw and sensitive, I couldn't stop. My mother came to get me from my apartment, took my best friend too, and we cried.

I feel like sometimes I'm still crying.

Her Facebook is still up. It's turned into a living memorial of sorts - those of us that her miss leave her notes about our lives, or just drop by to tell her we miss her, or simply post words of simple love and desire to have her back.

It's particularly difficult at night. I don't know what it is about the night time that makes grief swell and swell until is giant and all-consuming and all-encompassing. Perhaps it's that I find myself drifting to read the messages on her wall, looking at her pictures, watching the way people interact with her wall like she'll log on and comment. I'm really bad about keeping in touch with people whom I don't have direct access to. I tend to forget I read messages, or fool myself into believing I responded. With her, I hadn't spoken to her - realtime rapid fire conversation - in over a month before she died.

I cannot forgive myself for blowing it off, saying 'I'll catch her next time' or 'Gosh, I'll get on Skype in a few hours to talk to her". I cannot forgive myself for not texting her more often or calling more often or shooting her an e-mail or something.


It's probably the biggest reason I can't seem to get over it.

I can't.

And it makes me sad because if this how I feel in the position of one who didn't know her as well as I'd wished, I can't begin to imagine how her best friends and family feel.

I don't want to.

Sunny Sunday!

Hello!

I'm in a remarkably good mood - this is always the case when I leave my rents and come back to my own apartment. Despite a two hour long confrontation with the mother, nothing can bring me down. BIG THINGS ARE COMING.

So here's the plan, Stan.

Find a job. Find a way to get to L.A. Find a ride to church every Sunday. Find my cellphone, which I suspect is somewhere under my bed. Find some grit.

In that order :)

Happy Sunday! Happy Thanksgiving!

Selfish

Hello everyone,
It's been aaawwwhhhhiiilllleeeee. Major life changes? I've switched my major. This was actually the source of most of my chronic stress. I can't tell you how many headaches and sore throats I've had over the first major and minor I had. In the fall, I finally came clean to myself about what I want and my capabilities. I might be smart enough to do but that a) does not reflect in my grades and b) was never what I wanted to do. The major I switched to is much more interesting but will make my parents supremely unhappy. I've also been looking in to CRAS. Like, really really hard.


I used to think that part of my birthright was to be perfect. I am not perfect. I've gone out of my way to prove that to my parents and family (maybe a little too enthusiastically) and I don't know if I've got 'em convinced.

Hah, I sound like a regular teenager. Or maybe not a regular teenager but a regular person, someone who is a sister or brother or daughter or son of someone.

My maternal grandmother came over the summer from overseas. She's so fesity - there's awareness in her eyes and strength in her grip! (Tell me I was surprised when this little 5'1 lady yanked me down to sit next to her!) She leaves tomorrow with my aunt - my favorite aunt ever - who came to pick her up. They are extensions of a greater mass of people who all want me to succeed for various reasons. Their words 'You are not American. You're Nigerian. No matter how much you might wish it, your parents are yours for life.' It's not because I don't love them - not at all. I think I like to believe that it would be easy to cut off ties with family, not because I want to, but because I just don't believe my parents will come to terms with the fact that I'm so different. A lot of my best friends believe I'm selling them short - maybe. It's also that I really think they deserved a better kid. Their firstborn should have been filial and obedient, respectful and kind and honest. I'm not all of those things 100% of the time and I'm very selfish. My sense of self-entitlement is greater than most and while I don't want to add to my parents worry, my dreams are so out of the scope of what any of my perfect cousins want that I feel bad.

I'm the bad egg, the proverbial prodigal's daughter, except I'm not sure whether I'll be coming home at the end of painting the town red and blue. I feel as if I'm going to bring them a lot more heartache without trying down the line so I just want to cut it off so I don't feel guilty about my selfishness. I think I've always liked to believe that I'm free from expectation.

It's a lie that I no longer bother upholding.

Hah, this reads like such an emotional post but I promise you this is me at my most level-headed.

Selfishness. It's amazing how much of it we have. It's incredible how far we'll go to fulfill our own needs. I could lie and say 'I don't want to do this but...' - that's a lie. I do want to do this - and that's the problem.

I Hate Everyone and Everything

You know those days when you can't stand a thing in sight?

There's nothing that can be done to please you. You're in a shitty mood and only stuffing your face is going to keep you from being rudely inappropriate or mean and petty. I'm in one of those days. To remedy the situation, I came home from school earlier than I'd planned and I'm sitting on my couch listening to depressing music and surfing the blogosphere and saying very b!tchy things to myself. I can't even pinpoint when my mood when to sh!t today...

...actually, that's a lie.

It all started when I began running errands on campus for stuff I've got to do for my org. I went into the Kaplan office on Monday to see about giving away a scholarship to someone who is taking the GREs. The girl I met that day say it would be possible to get a list of people taking the exam on a payment plan so I left her my information and told her to contact me. She assured me she would.

It is Thursday. I go in, lah-dee-fucking-dah, and announce myself and my business. There is a guy behind the counter today and this boy has seen me in here before for the same thing.

And yet, he is surprised.

And looking extra EXTRA blankfaced after my announcement.

Now, I think that it's super understandable that I asked him what was going on. He answered me that he had no idea what I was talking about (a LIE) and that no one had said anything to him about anything at all (a TRUTH since he was so SLOW in understanding me that he probably didn't recall anyone saying anything since after the age of two). I said 'Well, okay, is that even possible?' .

He looks stupidly slow and says 'Nah, nah, I don't think so. Like, nah.'

A single no would have sufficed but alright.

Me: "Well, last time you guys said that I should talk to advisors at the Education College."
(Let me be specific, HE IS THE ONE WHO SAID THIS LAST TIME.)

Him: "Uh...um...I'm not really sure? I mean, yeah?"

Me: -_-

Him: ^_^

Like...why are you smiling at me when you don't know any of the information I've asked you for? I could have happily tossed a grenade behind that desk... So I left him my information again and he assures me that they will get back to me. I swear to high heaven if I don't get an email by tomorrow night, sh!t will get critical for him.

Good Lord.

After that, I felt as if I were functioning at a capacity that few other humans on campus were. I couldn't find anywhere quiet to study on campus. It was raining and facking COLD which I was honestly not dressed for. I nearly dropped my beloved laptop on gravel when a douchebag ran into me. It took me about fifteen minutes to get lunch. I lost circulating in my hands for a good 20 minutes. It's going to cost me more than I bargained for to invest in songwriting and lyric competitions. Simple questions (or at least simple to me) that I ask wrought confusion. I honestly believe that I could have asked 'Is the sky blue on a sunny day?' and I'd have received a 'eh?!' in response. Even people I like are irritating me at the moment. I'm either surrounded by stupid friends or stupid strangers. Mean? Possibly. True? Definitely.

I can say, with the full force of about three hours of chaos behind me, that I am officially in a bad mood.

Forever and a Day

It's been forever and a day!

School has begun and I'm drowning as usual under a barrage of parental disapproval, complex homework, sorority events and planning, and my own severe senioritis. Yes, a pretty lethal cocktail. Strangely, the one constant is songwriting. I can't go more than two days without having a little ditty burst into my head and unto paper. I have thirteen complete songs, and eight or nine drabbles. I don't know what to do with them so I'm getting ready to enter some of them into lyric competitions and see what happens. At best, I'll get noticed by someone or win. At worst, I'll get shut down to keep trying.

It's funny how her death sparked all of this. Before her, I wrote maybe a song a year. After her...all of this. All of it. And I finally managed to write a tribute. It doesn't do her any justice and it was more for me than for anyone else but I finally managed it. Maybe in a few weeks I"ll be able to write another!

I hope so.

Meh. Time for work. It's not that I hate my job, it's that I hate working. But work I must to pay back all the people I owe! Yaaaay.

Not.

Deuces!

Bus Encounters PART DEUX

I used to live in NYC. NYC is a fabulous, fabulous place and there's a reason why everyone who hails from that part of the nation is cocky as all get out. Missy said it best "[they] conceited, [they] got a reason". They sure do have a reason. They have MANY REASONS.

One of which is the best public transportation system in the country.

Yeah, I'm biased.

But I lived in the heart of the city and the PTS opened up the entire tri-state area to my young eyes. I can't tell you how many times I was supposed to come back from school early and just decided to take a little trip down 42nd street or hit up my favorite family diner on the corner of East 76th and York (they made the best milkshakes I have ever had in my life, bar NONE) or give myself a toothache at Dylan's!!!!

Yes, Lord. The excellent subway and busing system of NYC made all of that possible.

Compared to SomeTown, USA? NYC is looking a little slice of heaven. People of all economic stations take the bus in NYC but SomeTown is full of crazies. I can honestly say that I feel very very fragile sometimes when I go out. I am imminently aware that while I am bigger than many girls I know, height can't get me very far. I can fight some people off but not all. I have already told you guys all about some of my bus adventures here. Honestly, a sorrier bunch of people couldn't be found taking the bus. This is not a generalization of bus-takers (well, duh, I'm not including myself!!!!) because there are some of us who are fab and car-less.  But heavens above -

you know sh!t is critical when you find yourself wondering 

why you have yet to purchase a handgun 

every single time you step unto the bus. This is my first thought every time I hop up on these buses out here. I even reach into my purse and look around like I'm strapped, a standard 'Don't mess with me! I'll kill you!' look that may or may not have would-be attackers running. I find that if you keep your hand in your purse, people are more likely to regard you  as the dangerous one. This works for me.   And -

you know sh!t is critical when you also find yourself wondering 

why you haven't spoken to a lawyer about writing a will 

every single time you take a seat. I find myself fingering my cellphone to call my Dad up and get him to connect with his lawyers. I would do it if it wouldn't mean my Dad would kick down my door and point out that this is exactly why I should move back home. [ o v e r   m y    d  e a d     b o d  y ]  

My bus adventures are necessary. If I didn't take the bus, I couldn't get to work. If I didn't take the bus, I'd grow lazy and complacent in my search for a car of  my own. And that won't happen when I am mortally terrorized at least once a week by some fiend on the bus.

This week was a new low.

I work nights. And that is a wretched time for a female traveling alone. I decided that I'd brave the bus from the east side of town all the way to the west side. A single transfer, a forty minute wait - I thought 'Eh, what the heck? It'll save me 26bucks in cab fare that I can use on Sunday when I need it!'. HAH. LITTLE DID I KNOW THAT THE FREAKS CRAWL OUT AT NIGHT.

I got on the first bus and was surprised to see that it was full! Who knew the bus ever got full enough for people to be standing! I nearly face-planted (hello? trademark, much? duh) as usual when the bus driver decided not to wait for me to sit. There was something wet and sticky all over the floor that I didn't spend too much time thinking about before I avoided it altogether. There was also a strange smell that I decided to ignore.

Okay. Standard bus-fare.

The bus was still relatively full for the next fifteen minutes as it headed into the seedy downtown area where one of the city's major bus depots was. I thought that everyone would be getting off at the bus depot too.

And stood corrected when maybe three other people alighted with me. This should have been my-

First red flag. 

The bus depot isn't all that big. Well, I guess it is pretty big but I rarely think about it. It's about nine thirty five or so at night and downtown's night life is sort of active. But the bus depot isn't in the middle of all this active night life. It is off to the side. Which really means that something could happen and few people would be aware of it. 

Second red flag.

I look around once I reach the general area where the bus I'm waiting for will pick up. I count the people in the bus station, a habit of mine I picked up in childhood and never dropped. There are ten people. I look closer and realize that they all look male. I count again. There are ten people. There are also ten men. Which means...everyone here is...male?

Third red flag.

Okay. Okay. So there are a lot of men of varying ages here. I don't let this scare me. There must be a female - oooh, look there's a girl right-

Wait.

Tight dress. Cigarette. Bright make-up. And a come-hither look on her face. Oh dear. This is a lady of the night.

Fourth red flag.

With this realization that I am the single flame of respectable femininity in the immediate area, I begin to really legit worry. How the hell do I find myself in these situations? And why is time going by so quickly? Wasn't it nine thirty a few minutes ago? Why is it suddenly frickin' ten?! And because it's ten, I think of that commercial that comes on before the nightly news... "It's ten o'clock. Do you know where your children are?" ... 

Maybe my worry shows on my face. Maybe some men can scent fear. All I know is that where I was sort of managing to blend in before (Dianna Ross hair, be DAMNED) I am being stared at by the men that do look rather dangerous. Like 'Whooooaaaaa lemme cross this damn street to get away from you!' dangerous or 'hmm, he might sell crack' dangerous or 'aye, isn't that that one serial killer who decimated the L.A. population a few years back?' dangerous.

Fifth red flag.

I whip out my phone and pretend start a conversation. Yes. When in doubt, if you can't hit buttons fast enough, PRETEND. I am talking like the person on the other end is a close friend, an ally, someone who knows where I am. I'm thinking that this will deter even the most detemined men. 

Clearly, I don't know men.

Two of them are eyeing me and one approaches me and asks me for something. I talk louder in an effort to make it clear that I'm totally not available to talk. That's how you get into trouble. I breathe a sigh of relief when he wanders away. But another one is eyeing me like a piece of meat that needs to be bought from market. An acting troupe would be frickin' impressed by my skills right now.

Sadly, one brave dangerous soul is not at all deterred. This is where I really really legit got scared. This man walked right up to me like he didn't notice - or care - at all that I was talking on the phone. Maybe he knew I was pretending. He got me right in the lull of my ghost conversation (I mean hey, you have to pause to make it realistic, ne?) and asked me what my name was.

The question is harmless. 

THE KNIFE HE IS TWIRLING IN HIS LEFT HAND IS NOT.

For a minute there, I'm pretty sure that my eyes simply centered on the knife and my ears blocked out what he was saying.

Thank God for my childhood in NYC. All I can say is that I was floored for about four seconds before I got my sh!t together and scrambled up with  something mundane and serviceable that fobbed him off in under a minute.

The Straw That Broke The Camel's Back.

God can't even tell y'all how quickly I moved to whip out my cellphone to go through my phonebook and call a ride. Thankfully, a friend was down to come get me - it would just take her another fifteen minutes. and call my beloved Bethany because I knew she'd be either at home getting ready to go out or at home...cuddling with her cat. In either case, she was going to pick up the phone. AND THAT"S WHAT MATTERED. I needed to make it look like someone  on God's green earth would care if I was attacked. She answers and her voice is like a baby's bare bottom - soft and welcome.       [Okay, that has tones of pedophelia that I hope you ignore.] My point is that I was ecstatic to hear her voice as I power walked to a new area of the depot and made sure to keep Mr. Knife Player in my sights at all times.

When my friend arrived fifteen minutes later, I can tell you without hesitation that I moved like the wind to get to her car and nearly cried when I closed the passenger door behind me.

Why don't normal people take the bus here?

A Big Giant FML

Otherwise known as what-on-earh-has-my-life-turned-into.

Ah, to have no worries. It would be lovely. It would be incredible. It would be unbelievable. It would be perfect.

I have no car, few prospects, a job that is no less than 25minutes away from my house on a good day and at least 40 on a bad one, no concrete plan of how I'm going to pay off my tuition, no permit not to speak of a driver's license, little food, and half the money for next month's rent. It's looking like if I rely on either Providence or my friends' mercy, I will always be stranded at my job late at night with no way to get home. If I rely on the taxi cab (which is the 'herro duh!' option here) I will be forking over somewhere in the vicinity of 160 every two weeks. Which...makes me want to slap a toddler. I am also an aspiring writer and yesterday, a story that I've put my entire being into was consummately denied. Let me go ahead and air out my shame -

'Unfortunately due to several complaints we have now received about your story and lack of betaing in regards to the story, we have taken the drastic step to delete your story from our archive. Please be aware that we do not often take these steps, but with the number of complaints we are receiving and the fact you are a qualified beta, we cannot have your story in our archive without it reflecting badly on our site. We are painfully aware that we allowed this story into the archive in the first place and we agree that it was our mistake and not reflected on you at all. However, your story does need quite an overhaul. We have removed you from the site until such time we are confident in your abilities. This email has been cc’d to the admin of the website.

 Kind Regards,
She-Who-Wishes-Me-To-Commit-Suicide'

This is the first time in my entire life that I have had a piece of writing not just rejected but flat-out voted off the island. I have been writing since I was in 6th grade. SIXTH MOTHAFLIPPIN' GRADE. To say that I was shocked is a gross understatement. To say that I'm over it would be a lie from SATAN'S OWN MOUTH. Hah. So I shan't tell a lie. I promptly ran off to the bathroom and cried. A lot. Possibly enough to end famines in a few third world countries. I am also at the beginning of what is looking to be the whopper of a sore throat. My job requires I talk. My committees require I talk. My life requires I talk.

Is this enough rainbows and sunshine?

...

To put it mildly:
1) I almost wish someone would come along and put me out of my misery.
2) I have had five meltdowns in the last two days.
3) Of those five meltdowns, two have been in public and quite obviously embarassing.
4) I have had nightmares of waking up and realizing that NO THIS IS NOT A DREAM.
5) I have had daydreams where I joyfully picture being hit by a car, mugged on the street, held up in a string of bank robberies - anything to get me some time off of reality.
6) Of those dreams in which I am mortally wounded, I morbidly wonder what my funeral would be like. Is it electronica playing? Neo soul? Who's going to give the speech? Should I donate my laptop to goodwill or shall I just give it to my baby sister so she now has two Toshibas? What would they bury me in? What do they bury people in? Do I have to instruct this in a will? Do I even have a will?!

I am beginning to understand that this, my dear fellows, is not a good place to be. It makes me forget to find my center, or to return to a place where I can pray frankly for some help. Any help. Any divine intervention, really. Where has all my back to school happiness, my joi de vivre gone? I cant imagine that I'll be any fun to be around. I'll be the Mad Eye, except instead of CONSTANT VIGILANCE i'll be wailing CONSTANT DEPRESSION to remind ppl of how good they really have it.

Or maybe I'll become a Moaning Myrtle (this seems way more likely) and just kind of shat on everyone else's life and rain on everyone else's parade all day err day. Who knows, the loss of friends might give me less to worry about.

But alas, I have so much to worry about that I fear that the day will come when I channel this animal right here:

...

Signing out.

...

...

CONSTANT DEPRESSION!

Past Your Prime

So, as I bragged about last post, I have a loose group of fabulous friends! In the last semester my old mates from high school haven't been able to talk to each other as much as we would like. But

Let me just regale you with the tales of Simone, she who is in Texas at the moment. She has been having the most absurd bar experiences and I thought it was absolutely disgusting to hear about the fact that there were still wet tee-shirt contests done in small town. As she said, 'you live in the same place as the people! have you no dignity?'

I simply want to focus on a single aspect of Simone's story that stuck with me. I mean I'd love to delve into the band of merry men who wore some white bikini pants looking type thing that may or may not have doubled as the loin cloth for some long deposed prince of Europe. Hell, I suppose if you think you're attractive, you think you can get away with anything.

But if you're not hot (which was the case) then you, my bold bold friend who is wearing loincloths in the club for applause, are just playing past your prime.

But that sordid affair doesn't hold a candle to the FLAME that is the true illustration of my point.

And yes, although her story included naked dancing men and very extreme wet tee-shirt contests in which lady parts were yanked out of shirts to win the cash prize, I still want to go ahead and discuss what I think is a growing phenomenon.

Men and women, well into their middle-years, who are still hanging out at the bar scene.

I want to know what drives these people to get up and get out and get in when they can barely run under their own steam. Simone speaks of an old lady, honestly this woman couldn't have been a minute under forty years old according to her, who was at this bar that they were at. First of all, I don't personally how Texas does it and maybe Texas does it a lot better in the big cities but...where she is, a good time is what I would call a shot of low-dose cyanide to the jugular.

Heart-stopping, breath-taking, and seizure-inducing. And possibly fatal.

After a failed bout of dancing and an argument of seating arrangements, Simone finally made her way to a seat near the dance floor where an old women with a cane was sitting. I don't understand how someone can get inside a bar with a cane. I don't understand why someone would want to be inside a bar with a cane. I'm not sure why it is she thought that cane would give her the energy to last a night in a bar that allows smoking on the dancefloor but...alright.

But why is it that when she needed to go to the bathroom Simone and Co had to help her on her way? If you need assistance that is neither drug nor alcohol induced in a club, you really must evaluate your night life options. I don't mean to sound callous. But, really?! You want me to physically lift you back unto your stool? While I hold your cane? Should I also follow you to the ladies' room to make sure you don't break a hip on the way there? Or perhaps help with the process of absolution?

What are the motivations of people who do these things? Why bother? Don't you find it exceptionally tiring to have to get in and get out with  help? Is it fun for you?

What do you really get out of it?

People.
Stop playing past your prime.
And if you must play, please play elsewhere!

TheBB Wednesdays - Long Gone

“You know those movies where the girl is all over the guy who doesn’t give two sh!ts about her?”

Yes, that depressing line brought to you by Victoria is just about the way I'd like to start off this Wednesday's birds and the bees blog.

[I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in a week! I actually thought I had put in a post but I guess that didn't go through - NONSENSE.]

Anyway.

Today is part one for realizing that every person who runs through your life leaves their footprints behind. Today's story is (again) from our heroine Vicky who is not only battling whatever is going on with Ben but is also feeling extremely...hm, what's the word...wistful, I suppose. You know how you know you're really over someone? When the memories don't do anything more violent than make you smile or make you frown. Remember how I was talking about those stories and experiences that everyone (girl and guy, really) share that make them cautious about crushes and love?

Good. Now with that in mind, I want you to reminisce about those stories.

And with that in mind, I want you to go to the memory that still rings the loudest for you.

There.

You've found it! This is the person who, for some godforsaken reason, still has a hold on a tiny bit of you. And if you have more than one person who fits the bill, well, God help you then.

Talking to my girls - Vicky has someone whom she had a thing with for over a year and they were unable to remain friends at the end of it. Most of us thought he was no good because he held waaaay too much power in that ship (relationship), and I at least thought it was a good thing that they quit talking.

Yaay for these thorns in our literary sides.

Everybody who's ever been around anybody has got one of these.

Whether you choose to acknowledge this or not, he (or she) is a bit of an Achilles' heel for you.

Thinking about your Achilles heel is an addiction for a looooonnnggg time after it's over.

I've got one! And I can tell you about him since he's nowhere anywhere near me, nor has he been involved in my life for a very long time.

High school. Soph year. It's like the most perfect thing in my little teeny bopper head and the boy can do no wrong. It's the entire Disney cake of romance served to me on a platter - he's funny and Even as I sortofkindanotreally wonder why I have no backbone when it comes to him, I enjoy the rush. The rush is crazy. The rush is good. The rush is breathtaking. Until he turns around and takes it away. Granted, my story is a bit complicated since nothing was ever clearly defined one way or another but it doesn't change it.

He's my own personal shackle, the warning that says 'HEY! If you trust too easily, it'll come back to smack you in the face!". But he's also something I look back to fondly - yeah, it sucked (and oh boy, did it really effing suck) when it was over and it ended terribly but it wasn't all bad.

Okay, prepare yourself since I'm going to get sappy here-

I think of him from time to time. He's a college basketball player for a school in NYC and every now and then, I'll mistakenly catch a glimpse of him on tv. I always change the channel. There's no point in indulging in a little dreaming.

It's not that there's bitterness or anything. It's just that I don't fancy a walk down memory lane when the walk will make me feel tired at the end!

For others, it's that you don't know how to quit them (hahaha, yes BMref) and sometimes the idea of them is like a little light you've been hiding under a bushel.

It's like a demon baby that you keep in your room and feed it little pieces of dreams and hopes. You know that it's not good for you, and that nothing will ever come of it, and that you're quite possibly delusional to still hold a flame for this person but goshdarnit! You still like to think of that one time 8 months ago when he told you he thought you were the smartest girl ever or that other time where he touched your hair and-

BLAH.

Is he thinking about me? Do I cross his mind from time to time? Hm, maybe I should stalk him on facebook or ask one of his friends for his number? Or what if I just kind of figure out his schedule and put myself in the places where he's going to be? Actually, wouldn't it just be better if I show up at his house on a rainy night wearing a trench coat with nothing underneath?!

Yep.

That's when the crazy-Jekyll&Hyde-obsession-stalker thinking begins. And that's when you need to cut the ish, simmer down, and remember what's past is past.

 Talking to Vicky today, she believes that she’ll always be a little in love with him, that a part of her goes where he does.

"I wish he loved me," she says.

Well, shoot.

Don’t we all?

But I think once something is done it's DONE. And I think she knows that deep down too! We all do know it's over but that stubborn hope just won't die that maybe he'll turn around and figure out that 'Duh! I'm supposed to marry you! We're tots perfect for each other!'. Hah. I don't find the idea of pursuing old flames romantic. I know it's easier said etcetera but-

It died, didn't it?
It's over. It's done.

And as long as you know you tried when you had the chance, then you should be able to fully make peace with the fact that they're never going to be yours.

So...you know those movies where the girl can't get over the guy who doesn’t give two sh!ts about her?

Let's not be her.
If it's meant to be, something is going to toss you two together by fire and by force.

The BB - The Men Conundrum

a.k.a the Birds & the Bees - the dating scene

Because I like to write about things that I know and that I experience, there is going to be ten billion follow-ups to this first initial. I'm probs going to talk about relationship and dating and courting every Wednesday because it is a big slice of life.

So, I have a fabulous group of friends who all happen to be mostly mature, sometimes girly, and always pragmatic. At least when we look at each other's lives. Some of us are classier than others (haha!) and some of us are more romantic than others and some of us are more content than others. We have girls who literally draw men like honey draws flies, the confident and overlooked, and the quietly self-sufficient - and crosses of all those types. But, at some point, we all have some sort of story that says 'Hi, my name is Jaded. What's yours?'.

So is this what is stopping us from being the best - most amazingly fabulous - us that we can be?

Being a modern girl, I like to think that I'm independent and confident and strong and everything good. This belief has kindasortreally been shaken by my friends. *Simone, *Marie, *Caroline and *Sherry made me face these things. I've had to really face the fact that there is definitely a place where I refuse to look at why I rather be seen one way vs. another. I'm really comfortable with compliments from girls but, for some reason, not so much with boys.

This LEADS ME to my point (I've been winding along, I pronise I do have a point). In the last two weeks, my market value has apparently SKYROCKETED.

I don't know WHAT THE HELL IT IS but I can honestly say that I've gotten more compliments over the last fourteen days than the entire two months prior. And not just the rude slightly leery 'oooh girl you fine, can has yo numba' but the-

"Hey, I just wanted to come over here and tell you that you are very beautiful. I don't even want your number - I just wanted you to know."

...

...

I cannot say that I'm not pleased but I also can't say that I'm not alarmed. So here's what I'm asking fellow femmes out there:

1) Why are we naturally suspicious of men?
2) What the hell am I supposed to do with a genuine compliment from someone who appears to not want anything at all?
3) Why is this suddenly happening?

and most importantly though this def only applies to me out of all my besties at the moment

4) Why are they all over thirty?!!!!

I don't understand it. I might have to rename it something legit and official sounding, like 'THE CHICHI PHENOMENON'.

Hah.

But really - the fact that I'm also considering men who are a decade over my age is sort of baffling and troubling to me, especially when I ragged on some of my mates in the past. I'm sure they'll return the ribbing!!!!

A best friend (who we shall call Victoria) belongs firmly in the 'attracts men like flies' category. She's recently free to mingle and has been pretty damned determined to stay that way. And then BAM the seemingly perfect man comes out of nowhere.

Perfect is a relative effing term, ain't it?

But right now, this boy whom we shall call Ben, is hitting all the right targets and saying all the right things and making all the right moves. The present he got her for her bday is worthy of jealousy. And Vicky, my poor dear, is stressed the hell out. She's also the kind of person I secretly think of as a bit of a Cinderella. Her standards are high. Her men literally need to read romance novels and watch chick flicks to figure out how to make her happy. She doesn't want to be in a relationship. But Benny boy is looking really really good.

So some of you might be asking - okay what's the problem? But what if you don't want to like someone because that means you actually have to care more about what he thinks than you should? IT'S TRUE. Because you're overthinking something that should be fun and breezy and easy! And now you feel freaking DESPERATE because you don't want to like this boy. Man. Whatever.

Her question, which I relay to you, is -

1) If we know that we're going to get jaded, what's the point?
2) If I don't want to like him, then how am I supposed to break this off?

3) And if I do break this off, then what does this say about me? Am I too jaded to have a relationship? Am I too cynical? Did I handle it the best way?

Bottom line is dating is stressful. Being liked or liking someone is stressful. Even a simple 'crush' can give anyone a coronary. But it's supposed to be a fact of life. So, if you've come to a place we're the male/female (or m/m or f/f, whatever you're into) is looking like a damned hunt in a safari, then it's time to step back and re-evaluate. I say Vicky should coast for a few more days and then see if it's getting so serious that she honest-to-goodness can't think about anything besides Ben. I say Vicky should come to terms with being the kind of girl who is always open to a relationship, and can't be GUARDED and single.

What say you?

Ignorance is NOT Bliss

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Crossroads I

As usual, my summer has been chock full of drama. Between the arrival of my grandma, the passing of a friend I looked up to, and the nonsense that my parents continually introduce to my life, I have a feeling that I'm at a point in my life that is incredibly important.

I realize I am at a crossroads.

I feel like what I decide from this point, this day, this moment onwards is going to change the rest of my existence. I think anyone with a dream who isn't living their dream comes to this point. The unknown is greater than the knowledge of the known but what if the path your own isn't necessarily known either? Which is better - to stay on the one while reaching for the other, or to abandon the one to fully go for the other?

Which  is easier?

It would be waaaaay easier to do if one dream wasn't mutually exclusive to another. And I have many many dreams - but the two biggest ones couldn't be further from each other on the spectrum. So here I am, deciding to go after the other dream somehow because man I want to singSINGsingsing.s.i.n.g.sing. Ooh Lawd, I want to sing! But if you want to sing, you have to run the entire circuit. You have to perform around your city and at your school, you have to travel, you have to leave.

I have to leave.

And I still have shizza to do here since I'm a college senior.

It's not that I doubt my dream. It's that I doubt the timeliness of pursuing it. Because, hell, let's be real - if I got a callback, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would drop everything to pursue it. I would go at it like it was life and death. Because it is a matter of life and death. What would I do without some source of music in my life?

But then there's school. Which I love for the experience and not necessarily for the academics. It would be an easy choice between class and music. Hahaha, it'd be like..zero choice really. But 'school' is tied into 'family' and if they're paying for it, then I damn well need to finish up my shit and then go after what I want. Which is kind of a problem since I'm already sort of planning on either LA or Houston next month.

So what has been decided?

Hell if I know!

zzzzZZZzzz

I don't know what it is about this new job but for the last two days (which is about as long as I've have had it), I've been zoning the heck out after I get home. The first day I lasted until around 6:00PM, an hour after I returned, before sleeping until 11. Yesterday, I got home the same time and was passed out by 6PM (AGAIN!). You want to know when I woke up?

6:45AM this morning.

Which, coincidentally, is late.

This morning nothing went my way. Woke up late, made the life-altering decision between packing lunch and doing my make-up, ran out the door and STILL MISSED THE BUS. Um, let me sidetrack everyone and myself for a minute.

Does anyone else absolutely hate the I-miss-the-bus experience? I mean, no one likes to miss the bus. But the fat juicy cherry on top of that disgusting ice-cream cone is the I-made-eye-contact-with-the-bus-driver-before-I-missed-the-bus. This woman looked me dead in the eyes as she proceeded to roll on pass me. She sure did. She knew exactly what she was doing when she made the executive decision to keep driving instead of maybe giving me the two minutes it would have taken for me to run the rest of the way.

I bet you her thought process even included a 'Yeah...should I? What would Jesus do? *shrugs* Well, I ain't Him so buh bye!" And apparently SomeCity's shitty public transportation buses stop running constantly after 7:11AM. I had to wait another twenty minutes for the next time and if I had known that I tots would have gone home and just made lunch! But I didn't so I sat there looking extra pissed and extra sweaty and extra nonsensical before the next bus came. And after the first two days of being twenty minutes early to work when a chill supervisor was around, the freaking day a NON-chill supervisor was around was the day that
a) he took everyone up to the work floor early
b) I rolled in 5 minutes later.
He as good as told me that he was considering writing me up.

Yaay.

Awesomesauce.

It was only sheer power of will that kept my pleasant smile on my face after that!

Also, I've been trying to figure out how I can squeeze a visit to Houston in at the end of August but TIMES IS HARD, Y'ALL! Times is hard. I'm still really hoping that this can work out for me. I might have to rob a bank or sell my body but gotdamnit that's the plan.

Peacing out.

P.S. I'm going to try to stay up past 6 today but gosh, I feel the heaviness settling in already...

All I Do Is Win Win Win...

Also known as 'Why I Got Sent Home on My First Day at Work'.

It's only 12:31PM and I feel as if I've already lived a full day and must lie down to recuperate. The only freaking way to begin to explain is to break this ish down for you in a timeline that goes back to last night, when I decided to go to bed. I work at a Call Center, the training of which is apparently a few weeks. Today is the first day of training, which runs from 8 to 4.

Or for me...8 to freaking 10:00.

Whatever, not getting ahead of myself.

Monday Night/ Tuesday Morning

12:00AM 

Thinking to myself I should probably go to bed. Distracted by DYAC.com

12:04AM

Toni says the weirdest things. She really just told me her calves are a sack of fat.

12:05AM

Googling 'fat in calves'. Intrigued. Reading.

12:10AM

Have every intention to log off skype, really, but dyac.com pulls me in again.

12:15AM

Have moved on to fanfiction.net, avidly reading a very strange story that leaves me with unrealistic expectations about romance and castles. Which I already have, thank you very much Disney.

12:45AM

Again, thinking should go to bed. Stare at clock...stare at laptop...roll over and stare at clock again...return to fanfiction.

1:20AM

Finally talk myself into closing laptop. It is a success. Now staring at ceiling and thinking 'OMG the beds at parents' house is just too firm'.

1:25AM

zzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzzz

4:19AM

Wake up terrified. Why? Dreamt that my job was in Washington and I woke up late and somehow missed it? Very involved and complex, complete with 'you're fired' scene. Turn on laptop to stare at clock. Sigh in relief. Return to sleep.

5:50AM

Nearly break my neck when first alarm clock goes off in ear. Right. In. Ear. Rollover, back to sleep.

6:10

Another alarm clock, same ritual.

6:18AM

Jolt out of bed, remembering that a) I have sh!t to print before work b) the first bus leaves at 6:50 c) I dont really know my way around the transportation system d)I need to look human, at the very least.

6:20AM

Wondering what the f&%$ is going on with Uaccess because it apparently is out to get me. Hello? Transcript printout?

6:30AM

Practically in bathrobe, ranting in whispers because rest of family is asleep and uaccess is STILL being crazy. Cue running to bathroom to pee.

6:35AM

SUCCESS. uaccess is not a douche anymore and I love it. Printing underway. Dressing self-underway.

6:41AM

Holy sh!t, I'm not completely dressed. I need to pee again. Checking bus route, run to grab paper, trip and almost faceplant, give up on paper, try to memorize transfers. Realize bus route is 0.33miles away, according to Google Map, which translates into how much walking?!

6:44AM

Memorization fail. Toss entire laptop into purse, forget make-up, leave house.

6:45AM

Power-walk.

6:46AM

Power jog.

6:47AM

Disaster. Not only do I trip and almost faceplant, when I get the hell up and start moving, I run smackdab into a bumblebee. Really? Really, Lord? Really, life? A BUMBLE FREAKING BEE. As I make contact with this irridiscent creature, I hear the hum of the damned bus as it DRIVES PAST ME. A FULL THREE MINUTES EARLY.

6:48AM

I am running, hoping against hope that I might somehow cover that 0.2miles left in 60 seconds. I am also cursing because Mr. Bumblebee is caught in my hair. 

In. 

My.

Hair.

I am running, with a bumble bee caught in my hair.

6:49AM

My poor eyesight somehow manages to see that a disabled person is getting on the bus. Still running. Half  a block left. With one more flick, Mr. BumbleBee is free to buzz along and eff up someone else's day.

6:50AM

BOOYAH. 

Pull up as that bus drive is about to pull away and bang on that door like I'm a pissed Bad Girl at the entrance to the Bad Girl Mansion. And she whips that door open like she's trying to avoid a toaster oven flying at her head. I don't know if my smile made her feel better or more alarmed...

7:20AM

Finally get off at the right stop. What the hell, City? Why is everything spaced so far apart?!!! 

7:23AM

Walking to where I need to go. Wondering what exactly sweat is made of...I mean, is it purely water? Isn't it salty? And if it is salt is it like salt that comes from your body or like salt from your skin? And why do some people sweat more than others? Is it like a protective mechanism? Sh!t, my shirt is soaked.

7:30AM

Hm, this place is not looking familiar. At all. Like...at all. This is totally not where my job is located...

7:32AM

Backtrack. 

7:37

After a half a mile, I'm finally in the right place. And with 20mins to spare, FIST PUMP.

7:40AM

Bored.

7:45AM

Bored.

8:10AM

Bored but people-watching. Wasn't this thing supposed to start at 8?

8:25AM

We finally get to go up. It's pleasantly awkward in the large group. It's like that first day in high school if you went to a brand new school with lots of new people. Everyone's trying to look cool (yeah, I def didnt take my sunglasses off until I absolutely had to). Most people are trying to avoid eye contact. The males can be divided into three groups - avoid eye contact, avoid eye contact and attempt to look cool, look around interestedly. The girls have an extra group... the 'talk randomly to friend or bystander' group. I don't like silence. Guess which group I'm in?

8:33AM

Were no higher-ups informed that they would have a sh!tload of people in here doing training? The computers are old as sin, which really means they're at least 4 years old, and we're using Internet Explorer. Do people still use that browser? Hasn't everyone upgraded to Google Chrome or Firefox?

9:00

Yeah...no.

Nothing has really been accomplished.

Lots of chaos. But I've made two new friends!

9:30

These computers are on their last effing life line. Literally, rebooting whenever they feel like. At least me and the new homies are entertaining ourselves. 

9:40AM

Amusing myself with doodling. Asking neighbors if they think one doodle looks like a camel. Response? "Hmm, sort of, yeah". I am pleased. I draw a bigger one.

10:00

A boss lady asks for information. I stand. The woman eyes my pants and asks if I can step outside.

10:01AM

"Miss, your pants are too short." ...my pants...are too short...? "I need to talk to a supervisor so we can figure out what to do with you, young lady.."

Uh. My pants are not shorts. They are lower than mid-thigh. They don't say 'Hey, I'm the slutty coworker' nor do they say 'I wish I weren't wearing anything at all'. They are not too long and not too short. They are perfect. I am offended. Boss lady marches off. What?

10:05AM

"I'm so sorry but we'll have to send you home immediately. Is there anyway you can come back?" Come back? Brain goes blank. I'm picturing two words. One begins with an 'f' and the other is 'no'. Whatever I'm thinking is translated to face. I know this because she winces. She does not wait for me to speak.

Smart lady.

"That's fine then. We'll see you tomorrow."

10:10AM

Leaving building. Satan has decided to send along something to rub this in my face. That 'something' is a man in a very nice car who whistles. When I look back, which I really didn't mean to, he yells 'Nice pants'.

Yes.

They are.

Except they're 'too short'.

Thanks for the reminder, jerkoff!

...

...

...

All I do is win win win no matter what, right?

Can We Just Talk About...

...the fact that college towns like mine have absolutely nothing on college towns like yours?!

SomeCity, SomeState USA is home to what...a little over a million people, combined metro and city populations. It's the 30-something largest city in the United States and is apparently the largest city in SomeState, USA. I don't know if I believe this because when I head up to visit OtherCity, SomeState two hours away I definitely feel like there are way more people there than here.

That aside, summer for college towns means ZZZZzzzzzzzZZZZZZZz. But for a college student who actually lives in their college town, summer really means the death of a social life. For a college student who is not 21 yet and lives in their college town, summer can be likened to the moment Draco Malfoy had to try and kill Dumbledore:  horrifying, terrifying, and possibly the end of all shreds of innocence you used to hold on to.

Yep, I just threw an HP ref in there.

What is there to do in the summer? Well, for fun places like Austin, TX or New Orleans, LA I think they call it...hm, what's that word I'm looking for? Oh, yes FUN. There are fun things to do in places like that where they may be down in numbers on college students but have managed to create a day and night life that will survive without said students. There are maybe three notable clubs here and a slew of bars downtown and in and around the college campus. But let us really repeat the key ingredient to this dismal lack of a life - I AM NOT TWENTY-ONE. Not only am I not twenty one, but I am in possession of something most kids my age are not - a conscience.


Where does this conscience come from? Part of it is that I'm Christian (and I can practically feel the Bible giving me a stout side-eye whenever I stray) and the other part of it is that I am naturally a goody-two-shoes. I can't help it!!! This conscience makes it hard for me to do things that are not exactly legal. Although everyone's done their share of nonsense (hello? freshman year at college? you're supposed to gain that freshman fifteen through sheer alcohol drinking ALONE), but I just am not inclined to go all out! This also makes it difficult for me to obtain a fake because I'm way too lazy to do it now that I'm only six months from freedom and I'd probably not be any good at pretending I'm twenty-one. I can imagine it now...

"Miss? It says here you're 5'8 when you're clearly over 6'0 feet in heels."
"stutter stutter mumble Ahem-"
"I'm sorry what was that?"
"These are...uh...5 inch heels so it makes sense that I'm over 6'0 feet, Mr. Bouncer...err...sir."
"It also looks like you're Caucasian and blonde in this picture ID."
"...wait...it does?!"


Smh. Too much drama. I would like to keep my record squeaky freakin' clean, thank ya very much!


Meh.

Just about the only things to look forward to are 1) great movies and 2) great food. The first depends on what you like and the second is a product of us being so close to the border. Some of the absolute best places to eat are the tiny super local places where everything on the menu is less than four bucks! God knows many a night after a party during the school year, that Mexican food does me RIGHT.

Anything beyond great movies or great food is either to expensive or too time-consuming to make happen.

A Few of My Favorite Things

I like looking at things. I also enjoy eating...like a lot. This list is not in order of how much I like 'em.

1) Don't judge me - I make the list! (Nah, jk...sort of...)

1A) Another day in the mind of Love's Child. So I recently got turned on to ABG, provided by issa rae on youtube. She's a young script writer, director, and producer of the web series of 'The MisAdventures of Awkward Black Girl and Friends', and boy is this stuff golden! At first, I was a teensy bit skeptical when my bff Ariel put me on to this but she rarely ever shows me something that I end up disliking so I should have known. What it is is comedy in a box. The videos are never much longer than 12 minutes and flow in somewhat sequential order (meaning there's a continuity from ep to ep). Like the cast says in their last video, they represent some of both the well-known and not well-known black characters. Apparently it's in the works to be made into half an hour cable television programming? PSHHT GO 'HEAD, GO 'HEAD.

It's hilars! Check it! http://www.youtube.com/user/actingrl112#p/c/379FB6BBC58E28B3/2/GzGHeZSwgCA

2) Another goodie thanks to youtube.
I love following youtube stars and I like discovering good covers of songs. Thanks to my love for such diversity, I've found a bunch of people who really have the cajones to be stars. Two such stars are Pmac and JVoqalz. Check it if you can!

3) Fanfiction! People either love it or hate and I love love love it and I've loved it since freshman year high school. If you want to write at some point, you should practice on there (Again, don't judge me but I lurve the dramione community).

4) the web. You can find anything you want to on here. In the olden days, we used to believe whatever was on tv was the truth. Now if it's on Google, we believe it. Shit, I'll believe it if it's on wikipedia!!!!!

5) twitter. Now that I'm there, I realize how Satanic that thing is! It's all about you and you want as many people to follow you as possible! I do. Which is why I want you to follow me on twitter @ ChiChiOhh especially since I promise I'll be a superstar soonish.

Herro WORLD

This post is solely for my benefit. Please excuse me while I type the equivalent of a verbal scream -

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fiaq2qeuwasfndkvgdlfp;jKIBFRDJHSGVSFRI8TRWE3FJNMESRKG FXV NZLVFPA9RIQ320T4G[]DFHB52FVG5N BGXFN LFGMBLDMSZ

Back to our regularly scheduled programming!

So hello world! It's me, Love'sChild (known in some circles as the most fabulous thing the world has ever seen, but hey, who wants to know?). I've stopped and started many many many a blog but this one is going to stay. I have a feeling that this one will stick around - or perhaps, I'll stick around and as a consequence this one will too.

I'm a college senior at SomeCity, SomeState USA and I have to be honest - I'm still figuring out what I want to do with my life. I've spent a bunch of time just hohumming as I floated along on a sea of lazy indifference and I figure that it's about time I quit that. I need to hop up off my booty and do something with my life!

So I sat down and thought - hmm, what should I do?

This manner of thinking is...well...alright, it didn't yield too much immediately. It took a little bit of snacking and TV watching (okay fine, i was a total fatty and ate brownies and ice cream in front of LMN movies) for the question to really be answered. And you'll never believe what I came up with (because GOD knows it's like the most original like idea like ever!) -

I want to be famous.

Now, before we get our undies in a bunch, I should clarify. I want to be famous only because that's a way for me to effect immediate change on a significant amount of the world's population. I'm a normal girl with bigger than normal dreams, and the key hear is the plurality! The disenchanted older population always blah blah blah on and on about how we (the nondisenchanted...er...younger people?!) think we can have it all.

But, damnit, why can't I?!

So I want to be famous because I have a story to tell and a voice to tell it with and I think what I have to say is worth listening to. I think my experiences and my take on life in general can enrich the world. I think I can sang and I want to go out and paint pictures and dreams with my voice. Better than that, my voice is strong enough to tell others' stories and speak life into others dreams and I wantneedgotta a chance to do that. I'm not the first to innately believe this about myself, nor will I be the last.

But I can guarantee you that I'll do my damnedest to make it happen for me or die trying.

It's hilarious that all this self-assured motivation has come out of nowhere and slapped me upside the head around the venerable age of twenty. Where was all this drive before? All this focus? Psht, who the hell knows? I sure don't. In any case - I'm Love's Child and I'd like to say-

Hello, World. It'll be a pleasure working with ya!