In Which I Find My Previously Mentioned Airport Shirt and Slyly Throw In My Christmas List

FOUND MY FLYING SHIRT.



Also: this would work.
 

See my pinterest Christmas List for all this awesomeness and more.

Flying: Part Two

(October 27, 2014, continued)

So, flying.

I don't know if flying ends up being crazy ordeal for everyone, or if it's just me. Technically it ends up being more "crazy" than "ordeal", because apparently I attract the crazy. But it's always... Entertaining. I have never flown somewhere and not gained a story to tell. Literally.

Currently, I am in the air. On a plane. In case that wasn't obvious. Cruising over California, on my way to spend Halloween with Steph and her family, which I'm stoked about, but I'll talk bout that later. I have to get there first.

I've found that most of the crazy and ordeals happen in the airports, more than the planes themselves. People are chatty when flying. Like, really chatty. Also, cranky. This is probably because there's a lot of emotions involved with flying, and vacations, and especially the work -related  events (if the crankiness of business people is anything to judge by. Dude, business people, airport personnel are just doing their own jobs. You're not the only working person in the world. Tone down the attitude, maybe?). Which usually just means nobody is at their best. Travel brings out the worst in everyone. And the inner chatterbox in 89% of people.

And what do I hate? Having long conversations with strangers. I can do the casual answer-your-question or sitting-next-to-each-other-polite-comment, you know, the usual day-to-day polite-talk. But airports aren't your usual day-to-day activities. Also, there are exponentially larger amounts of old ladies in airports. Which means: your chance of getting sucked into a "let's-share-our-life-stories" conversation is astronomically high. Especially if you are me.

We're still not sure what it is about me that gives off the "TELL ME YOUR LIFE STORY!" vibe, but it's probably a combination of my tendency to smile at people, the fact that I'm often traveling with my parents (it says "I'm a good, family girl, but I'm also sort of a third wheel, and lacking a conversing partner, which SHOULD DEFINITELY BE YOU"), and I'm totally uncomfortable talking to strangers for more than two minutes (they can smell it on me, like fear).

So. Yes. This is my main gripe with flying, mainly because it ALWAYS HAPPENS. It becomes funny in the predictability of it. I really, really want to get a tee-shirt to wear to airports that says something about being an introvert or socially awkward to ward people off. CHRISTMAS, PEOPLE. I NEED. FLYING SHIRT. CHECK MY PINTEREST.

But there are more interesting flying experiences. Another big one is that I HATE it when people talk on flights. Because, mainly, it's ALWAYS strangers having life-story conversations with other strangers, which is, like, doubly bad as ME being involved in the conversation. It's TWO people I don't want to know about, and I'm forced to hear their life-stories. Because, of course, you HAVE TO SHOUT TO BE HEARD ON AN AIRPLANE, BECAUSE ITS LOUD, WHICH MEANS THAT THE WHOLE PLANE HEARS ABOUT YOUR WHOLE LIFE AND WITNESSES YOUR SAD FLIRTING, AND REALLY, I JUST DON'T. 

Guess who's behind me right now? Despite it being a less than half full flight? Yeah. I'm telling you. There's a certain vibe I give off that attracts these people.

Other strange things that have happened lately at airports:

1. A lesbian that I had acknowledge-smiled at on my flight winked at me when we passed each in the bathroom (in the airport). The fact that it was in the bathroom made it hundred times weirder.

2. A teenage girl talked to me non-stop throughout an hour and a half flight. I mean, nonstop. She didn't stop when I took out my book read. She still talked to me when I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. She STILL talked when I took out my earphones, put them in, closed my eyes, turned away, and tried desperately to sleep. I learned that day to never compliment anyone's backpack, because that's what started the never-ending conversation.

3. The old lady sitting next to me had a hobby of becoming friends with flight attendants-- cue life-story conversations-- and liked to give them little angel pins. Admittedly, the pin was really cute. But it was reply awkward for everyone around.

4. The old lady that followed me through 2 airports. She sat beside and told me about her grandkids for an hour before we boarded, and when we got of to transfer, so did she. So she followed us into a restaurant and randomly sat down at our table and continued to tell me her life story. It was so strange.  I would have been a better sport had my parents not been snickering the whole time: I'm a magnet to these people.

...... More I can't think of right now. I'm getting a little motion-sick.

I'm gonna read now and try not to take Dramamine. Dude, I'm so stoked... I'm going to Idaho! I'm gonna go see my sister and brother-in-law and my pseudo babies-- my little niece and nephew! And I get them all to myself... Just me visiting. And it's Halloween! I get to do all the Halloween-y things with the kids! This is like the first time Ellie (3) is really going to understand trick-or-treating and all that jazz, and this is Cameron's first-- wait, no, no it's not. He was a month old last Halloween. This is his first conscious Halloween! The first Halloween he gets to run around in a costume! The first time I've dressed up in years! I made a sweet mermaid costume and everything! It's gonna be so incredibly fun!

Totallllllllllllllly worth the flights.

In Which I Refrain From Dancing and Witness Mysterious Sewer Smells on a Plane

October 27, 2014

So, do you remember the commercials from Apple for the very first iPhone? (Which, by the way, I thought was the coolest thing the world. It totally and completely blew my mind that you could have music on your phone. WHAT.) You know, where there was some guy totally jamming out to his music, dancing his way through the normal people in some city?

I feel certain that, should this be a socially acceptable activity, that would be me on a daily basis. 

No, for real. I find myself having to restrain myself nearly every time I hear music these days. I can't tell if this is a good impulse or not. But it's pretty inconvenient that dancing like an idiot in public is not socially acceptable.

Psh.

***Random side note: I'm writing this on the plane on the way to Boise (listening to music, trying not to shimmy around to my music), and someone just cut one of the nastiest farts I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing. For real, it feel like I just got a huge whiff of a Port-a-potty that's been baking the sun for a few days... It's like raw sewer up in here. I'm like legitamitly worried for this offender... He may not be okay. He may be having a serious medical problem at our pleasant cruising altitude. Forget Ebola, someone's colon is aaaaaangry.

Huuuuuwhuuuuhhhhhhhhh

(That was me giving a massive gag)

Oh, good: someone near me got a coffee. I'd rather have coffee fumes wafting around up in here than sewer smells. 

Here's to hoping he makes it through our hour and fifteen minute flight... 

I Can't Blog at Night, Which is Proving to be Problematic

I have 14 posts in progress at the moment. Meaning, I often come up with some things I want to blog about at night, but I know that I'm too tired to make real sense with it, so I jot it all down in a scary mess of a draft post, to be made into something comprehensible at a later time.

Problem is, that later time hasn't been coming around. The draft post ideas are piling up, but they aren't turning into anything. Which Is, you know, kinda an issue when I want to accomplish a successful blog.

See, this is why I can't blog at night. It all comes out all strange.

But I wanted you to know that I have things going on in my blogosphere. You just aren't privy to them yet.

In Which I Find A Silver Lining

Sometimes I freak out a little about how well I fit the whole "crazy cat spinster lady" persona. At 23, it's a little disconcerting, to say the least.

But then I think, "well, hey, at least my cat likes me."

Silver lining, people!

In Which I Talk About The Awesomeness Of The All Things John GreenRelated

So, Mom continues to not enjoy movies-that-were-once-YA-novels. In her defense, she handled The Maze Runner today a lot better than she did The Fault In Our Stars. Oh, The Fault In Our Stars. 

I will never, ever be able to repay my mother for the trauma that I subjected my mother to by bringing her to see The Fault In Our Stars.

But really. It is a kinda funny story. Now. Weeks later. Long enough for the movie to leave theaters and come out on DVD. Where, in the extended cut, author John Green makes his cameo appearance that was originally in the movie BUT THEY CUT. Because, you know. I may or may not be an expert on all things John Green/TFIOS/nerdfighteria.

SPEAKING OF. 

JOHN GREEN AND BILL GATES are teaming up post-trip to Ethiopia to help raise money for clean water-specifically the building of new wells-- in Ethiopia. A few weeks ago John met up with Bill Gates in Africa where they saw firsthand the staggering lack of health care, and yet the tremendous good what little they did have was doing. In two 3 minute videos from John Green I learned more about the type of health care that does exist in developing countries than I've learned about in all my 23 years. I understand that diarrhea is one of the leading causes of death in children in many countries, because you can't drive to walmart and pick up some Pedialite. Because they don't have clean water, or easy access to IV systems, they get dehydrated and die. From diarrhea! As inconvienient as it is, diarrhea isn't something we have to worry we might die from.

So, Bill Gates said he'll match up to $100,000 in this campaign to raise money for clean water in Ethiopia. 

You can check out more information about it on John Green's tumblr. Or donate here.

And I encourage you to go watch John's video from his trip to Ethiopia! And while you're there, feel free to stick around and watch more of his videos with his brother, Hank at vlog brothers. They're amazing.

UPDATE: It's been about a day, and we've raised $78,000. Sweeeeeeeeeet.

My Body is Weird: Bruises

My body is weird. We know that. Today we are going to explore the weird way it bruises, or, more specifically, the way it doesn't.

I don't know why it doesn't bruise. Maybe because of the more than adequate fat layer surrounding, well, all of it?

But the weird thing is, while it won't bruise for incredibly violent injuries, it WILL bruise for the dumbest, lightest things ever.

Run into the corner of a table in the dark? No bruise. Pinch arm skin in a buckle? No bruise. Smash and crush fingers in a door? No discoloration whatsoever. Any other violent injury that I just can't think of at the moment? You better believe there wont be bruising.

Oh, in fact, when I broke my foot in the sixth grade? The doctor didn't believe that it was broken because it never bruised. "We'll take an x-Ray just in case," she appeased, "but I'm sure it's not broken." I was so triumphant when it was. WHAT NOW, DOCTOR LADY?!

Anyway...

But if I pull a bandaid off my arm?

Bruise. What the heck?

I get these random bruises sometimes, usually on my legs, and I have no idea where they come from. I have absolutely no memory of any injury whatsoever. I just don't understand. 

My body is so whack. Wiggidy-whack. Not the regular type.

So, yes, it's another thing that makes me not-normal. I may be the only person who can drop a brick on heir foot and know for certain that it WON'T bruise.

I'm fond of my weird body quirks. Kinda like I'm fond of my car's, Big Red, quirks. If I was presented with a new car that could actually turn and had reliable air conditioning and had a gas tank that could hold more than 10 gallons, I wouldn't turn it down. But I would miss Big Red and it's mysterious ticking noise and it's backfire tooting noise and it's massive windshield crack that got progressively bigger week by week. We had some good times together, and I'd miss the things that made it special. But only so much.

In Which I Discuss the Onomatopoeia of the Law & Order Sound

So, embarrassingly enough, I've thought about how to write the iconic sound from Law & Order on multiple occasions. You know what sound I'm talking about, right? (If you heard it, you'd recognize it, guaranteed)

I realize this is weird. But I'm weird. Especially when it comes to words and writing.

So, this is a strange onomatopoeia (yes, I had to look up how to spell that). In case you don't remember from 7th grade Language Arts (how could you possibly forget something so amazingly wordy?), onomatopoeia is the words for sounds that sound like the sound they're defining.

Basically, they're the comic book words:

Bam! Slap! Swish! Crack!

Those.

So, seeing as the Law & Order sound is uniquely it's own, but is widely recognize, I figured it should have a word of its own. But what?

I mean, think about it. How in the world do you write that down? How in the word do you SAY that sound? I'd concluded that it's a DUN-DUN, with a bit of a "b" mixed in with both "d"s, with a bit of "sh" mixed in as well. 

But that's a crappy way of imitating it. Aloud or written.

But, curiously enough, I just read in a book someone ELSE talking about the same noise, and I am so very pleased with the way she wrote it: "shook-shook." Not "shock-shock" like I first read it as, but "shook-shook." I still think it needs so "d" in there, but I'm quite proud of Corey Ann Haydu. You go, girl.

Also, she said, "Even the music arrests me, that opening shook-shook noise that says, Something terrible is about to happen." Which is, of course incredibly true.

In Which I Explain the Cookie vs. Cookie Status Story

So, yesterday on Facebook I posted:

"Why is cookie dough so much better than actual cookies? There has to be a scientific reason... I should research. TO GOOGLE!"

Alas, this is not the beginning and end of the story.

See, it was, indeed, 4:17 AM. I had just spent the last four hours on Youtube, watching all sorts of random videos, before deciding I needed a snack. Dad had just baked cookies, so as I was munching on one, I discovered a bowl full of the cookie dough in the fridge. Abandoning the cookie, I proceeded to eat a handful of dough, thinking the thought, "Why is cookie dough so much better than actual cookies? There truly does have to be science behind this." Which led to me then posting the thought on Facebook. I was too tired to research, so I finally turned my light off and went to bed.

Well.

I have never had a more uncomfortable night. Or, you know, morning. Turns out, a handful of cookie dough turns into a BRICK in your stomach when you try to sleep. I spent the next hour tossing and turning, nauseous as all get-out, sweaty and in pain. Why is cookie dough better than cookies? WHO CARES. I wanted to jam my fingers down my throat to get the stuff out of me. 

Needless to say, I never did research why cookie dough is often more tastier than the cookies themselves. I don't want to think about cookie dough ever again.

I'm going back to chocolate milk.

In Which I Contemplate the Word "Sweet"

So, today I'm reading a book (Matched, by Allie Condie) and I realize something strange. In the book, the main character describes a kiss as "sweet," and suspects a kiss with a different character would be "more than sweet." So, seeing as I'm on my Mini iPad, and how I love to see what the definitions of words connotate about words in their different settings, I do the handy "tap-and-we'll-link-to-both-the-dictionary-and-Wikipedia." Which is, consequently, my FAVORITE feature of electronic readers. Bless you, kindle. (I do this a lot.)

Anyway, as I'm reading the definition of "sweet," wondering how the dictionary connotates "sweet" in a non-food related way, and not finding the answer automatically, my brain hops to my own romantic-life experience with the word "sweet."

 And I think: "Man, it's curious that I don't hate the word 'sweet.'"

It's curious, because it was the first compliment the boy that was exceptionally cruel to me gave me, the first time we met (as I was leaving the football game my freshman year of high school, in which he wrote the words "you're sweet" and his phone number-- yes I still remember. I mean, awww, that's really, dare I say, sweet. Pun definitely intended.) 

As it was the compliment that He Shall Remain Nameless gave me, and considering how bitter I was about that whole deal, and for how incredibly long after, it's easy to see how I could have connotated "sweet" in an extremely negative way. But I didn't. It's likely because I adore sweet-TASTING things, but I wonder about it. And the conclusion I've come to is: perhaps, instead of being bitter and shying away from "sweet" I think I've done the opposite- I fervently wait to add a new memory to "sweet." I'm waiting, in a surpringly not desperate way, for some other experience regarding "sweet" to come into my life. Which I'm pretty proud of. 

Now, I'm in this odd state of having both NOT assigned "sweet" a bad memory, but neither a good one, and sit in a phase of having no association or connotation about the word "sweet." Which is made even more odd by the fact that I adore words, and connotate and associate with EVERY word (well, almost). But I like it.

And, like Cassia in Matched, I intend to have sweet kisses, and decidedly more than sweet kisses in my future. And He Shall Remain Nameless can have his own. But not with me.

And that, my friends, is, in and of itself, sweet.