presentations, practicals, and finals; oh my!

I'm aware that if I blogged more and adventured more on here, I'd probably get some more followers.

Oh, well, I'm a busy bee lately. Finals week is next week.

The month of April is hell in a handbasket for a college student. Presentations, practicals, and finals, oh my!

I kind of have no idea what to write about. I just know I want to write.

I've been kind of on the miserable side lately. I seem to be that way often.

That's not really who I am. At least, for a good three year chunk of my life, I was, for the first time, perfectly content.

My senior year of high school was the -best- year of my life, in so many aspects. I was 17, the perfect age. Old enough to complain that you were an adult and could do whatever, and young enough that when things go wrong, you can say you were still a kid. I was pretty, and I knew it. I had a certain confidence about me that I had never before had in my life, and it showed. I was valedictorian, captain of the colorguard, section leaders in both band and choir, co-director of the musical, scholar challenge team b captain...I had so much going for me. I had the best friends in the world, and I finally erupted into that social butterfly that had taken so long to come out. I was FUN.

Now, mind you, I had the right kind of fun. It wasn't like I was a deliquent getting drunk every Saturday night. But rarely did I spend a weekend at home. I was always going bowling, or to the mall, or to the movies with my constant on-again-off-again. I knew how to make everyone laugh. I was the best friend that I could possibly be. And in return, I felt the love comin in from every direction.

And now? I am still on speaking terms with -two- of those friends. And in the 2 years I have graduated, I have accomplished -nothing.- I have a 3.3 GPA. Good, but mediocre in my standards. I spend my time chasing after guys who are terrible for me, and crying when it doesn't go well. I can count my friends on one hand (They are worthwhile friends though :]). I rarely put on makeup (or wear jeans for that matter), and to see me smile, and I mean really smile...is a rareity.

I get random bouts of euphoria, sure. And for a moment, I feel like I'm me again. I feel like I just might be that Stanley Steemer or Joyce that everyone knew and loved. But then I come crashing back down, and I am simply Amanda again. Not that Amanda isn't who I am, but the name is symbolic to me. It's one of the (if not the) most popular names of the 90's. So it's unoriginal. Unspecial. Generic. (No offense to my parents.) And that's how I feel. No one special. I'm terrified of walking through my life alone. I used to relish my time alone.

Now I can't stand it.

I've spent a good 75% of my year sleeping or crying.

I don't even know what happened to me. I'm lonely. Even though there are people all around me on a daily basis, I'm lonely. Like there's a big gaping hole in my heart that I can't fill on my own.

If you look Amanda up in a name dictionary, it means "worth of love". I'm a little skeptical in my case. I feel like a totally worthless human being for a good percent of my existance. This not only affects me in relationships, but, often I wonder what my purpose even is. I don't think life is all suffering as the Buddhists say. But, it does seem to be all I do. I'd like to find someone I can share things with. Someone that fills that void. Someone who won't lie to me or hurt me. Someone who cares about everything I say or do. I want to mean something to somebody.

A friend once told me that I should see someone. You know, like a counselor. I don't like the idea. Everytime I look at the health center and contemplate it, a bubble pops in my head with my mother's voice booming out. "You want to be a psychologist?! How can you deal with other people's problems when you can't deal with your own?!"

I'm moving to Tennessee in 14 short days. I'll be there the entire summer. I have my fingers crossed that this will be good for me. That maybe, even though I'm lonely,the best thing could be for me to get away. I'm not running away from my problems, but rather, I'm trying to alieve them. That maybe time away will let me heal from whatever put me down. Get over things, and be able to forgive myself and others. Not to mention, Ohio is just depressing on its own.

I make a wish every night before I go to sleep. I used to wish for something specific. And it would never come true. But still I wish. Only my wish is much more general.

I just want to be happy.

Do these pants make me look fat?

So, our school newspaper wrote an interesting article on leggings. I'm about to go on my own little fashion rant. *clears throat*.


Rule #1:
LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS.

Leggings are leggings; they are not pants. If they were, they'd be called pants. I don't know who decided sausage-linked-camel-toe was attractive, but they were obviously moronic or under the influence of some illegal drug. I've seen some frightening attempts at leggings. I've seen feet that are losing blood because their leggings are so tight that they have no circulation through the rest of their legs whatsoever. I have seen girls who, again, are trying to fit into a pair of leggings that are far too small for them, and the butt seam looks like it's about to burst, and I'm frankly frightened for them.

Yes, leggings done properly under a dress or skirt can be cute. But, please, make sure your butt and your whoo-haa are covered. Camel toe and saggy crotch are common occurance with leggings, and it's not attractive.

Also, you make think they're sliming and hold all your fat together. This is only true for the thick, yoga-pant-y, black leggings (sometimes). Not for skin tight, translucent, patterned ones. You just look like you probably came from the corner, and I can see every little bit of your cellulite, thank you. Your legs can easily look like sausage stuffed into too-tight casing. Sausage is yummy and all, but I'm pretty sure men aren't going to fawn over you if your legs look too much like them. Sorry.

If you're going to go for leggings (which I'm going to do tomorrow!), pick a nice neutral color, such as: black, gray, brown, or navy. Pair them with a dress or skirt; anything that covers your nether regions well, and voila! Instant cute.

BUT THEY ARE NOT PANTS.

2. IF YOU ARE A SIZE 10, DO NOT TRY TO FIT INTO SIZE 4 CLOTHING.

I realize I used to have this specific problem. Yes, I know. In the past two years, I've gone from a 6 to a 12, back to an 8 or 10. Not my fault. Butttt, I've learned to dress properly.

Walking around campus, I see a lot of girls with love handles and food babies just kinda hanging out. Ew. Gross. All for the sake of their size 4 Express jeans. First of all, there is no reason to spend $80 on jeans. Granted, I do have a pair of Express jeans. I paid $30. Savvy. But, buy jeans that fit!!! They should be big enough that you don't need to rub Vasoline on your thighs to get them on. They should also be small enough that your buttcrack isn't hanging out. And ladies, buttcrack is NEVER attractive. It makes me think of the stereotypical plummer. Eew. Gross. Thank you.

Moral? If you wear clothes that -fit-, your friends won't be asking you the last time you had your period and when you're due. None of our bodies are perfect, and we should embrace that, but appearance is important people!

3. HAVING YOUR BOOBS AND YOUR BUTT HANGING OUT; NOT COOL.

So, a lot of girls complain that guy's want them for merely one thing: sex. Well, evaluate yourself;

Do you -look- like that's all you want?

Yeah. Doesn't surprise me.

Sure, there's that saying, if you've got it, flaunt it. But tastefully, please! Even guys don't want to really worry all the time if your boob is going to fall out of your bra that is showing because your top is so low, or if your pants are going to rip if you bend over.

I'm sure to men, it's attractive in a way. But to most of them, at least most that I know, they think it's trashy, and that you're out for sex and nothing more.

I'm not saying to dress like your grandmother. I'm saying not to look like a Playboy bunny, unless that is your ambition.


4. SHUTTERSHADES.

Or whatever they're called.

THEY'RE UGLY.

And, not to mention, they serve no purpose!!!

They do not block out the sun, and it's not like you can even see out of them.

I'm sure someone finds them cool.

But I'm sure there are people out there who think you look like a moron with them on too. :]




Please. Think about what you wear.

Kthnks.

Turning Over a New Leaf.

Happy Thursday. It's sunny and 80 degrees here in Ohio today. But, I'm taking a little while's break to get some stuff done.

(And I'm obviously failing).

But, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about my life. And the kind of person I want to be.


I'll face it.

I did some bad things this year.

Sure, I have wonderful friends who hug me and say that I was just following my heart. But what I did still wasn't right. What's the point of getting what you want if you have to lie and cheat to get it?

"If you want it, you've already got it" ♪ , So says Madonna. And I think she's right.

If I love someone and I want their love in return, that's all fine and dandy. But, if I need to work for that person's love, it isn't quite worth it. Love should be natural, and perhaps it was between us. But, I shouldn't have had to do those things to keep him with me.

Chances are, if someone is willing to lie and cheat on one person, they're willing to do it to you too.

I'm finding that out the hard way.

A dear friend told me once that I was too kind, forgiving, and trusting. That these were good qualities in a person, but too much of them can make a person nieve and open to a world of pain.

He was right.

Time after time again, I'd forgive him. I'd forgive him when he lied to me and when he hurt me. I'd take one look into his eyes that are the exact shade of brown mine are, and I'd forgive him. I'd melt at his smile instead of standing strong.

I hurt one of my best friends in the world for him.

We haven't been friends this year. But that doesn't mean I care about her any less. But I still hurt her, whether she knows it or not. And I will never be able to let myself be friends with her again because I feel so guilty.

I spent time with a guy I had liked for a good amount of time. He's a year older than me, and has a heart of gold. He's not perfect, by any means, but...I never fail to feel good when I'm with him. He makes me smile, even if he's making me angry. Although we hadn't talked in a long time, he could tell there was something that was just itching at me to get out. He told me I could tell him anything.

I told him the truth. Every little one of the lies I had told, to cover my ex-lover's butt. I was never really concerned for my own. I just wanted to protect -him-. So, I had myself convinced that it wasn't my secret to tell, when really, I had every right to tell the world.

He held my hand while I cried and told him every little detail of my year. He hugged me close when I asked if I was a bad person, and told me that I was not. That I just followed my heart. I just went about it the completely wrong way. And that he couldn't understand why I'd do so much for a guy who wasn't up to my worth. He told me I was better than that, and that I deserved more. That's the first time a guy has told me I deserved more; that I wasn't something worthless.

We've barely talked since.

Though, I think that maybe he still cares, he's lost a lot of respect for me. I don't blame him. I wanted to have a chance with him, but I single handedly ruined it. I know I did the right thing by telling him the truth. And now I'm dealing with the consquences. If I did have a chance with him, he probably thinks that I'm capable of hurting him the exact same way I was hurt. And it's true, I am capable. We are -all- capable of that. It doesn't mean I would though. I care about this guy more than I'd ever admit to him, and I'd never do anything to hurt him.

But, he doesn't know that. So, I don't blame him.

Morrie Schwartz (You know, Tuesdays with Morrie?) said that forgiveness is important. In order for anyone to forgive you, you have to forgive yourself first. This is a hard thing to do, I'm sure. But I'm going to try. I'm going to separate myself from that situation and put it in my past, which is where it belonged in the first place. I'll remember the good times, but shut out the bad. I won't try to correct things, because the situation is beyond repair. But I am going to separate myself from everything and hope God hands out his just desserts.

"Memories are nice, but that's all they are." -Rikku, FFX.

Your past is a part of you, but it isn't who you are. Remininsce, but don't live in the past. It's worthless and will get you virtually nowhere.

I'm a big past-dweller, I know it. I keep missing the things that are going on right now, because I'm too preoccupied with things that already happened.

I'm also aware that I've been a nasty piece of work this year. It's not -my- fault persay, buttt. I don't necessarily have an excuse for it either. Screw you, hypothyroidism.

So, I'm going to work on it.

I'm going to catch myself before I say something downright nasty or unthoughtful. And I'm going to get myself motivated.

I'm going to show the people I love that I love them.
And I'm going to be kinder, and more outgoing.
I'm going to be more respectful to my parents.

And most of all, I'm going to learn to respect myself.

And I'm sure my closest friends are going to read this and say:


AMEN.

Music Mondays?

Themed days? Bahah. I'm ridiculous.

Anyways. Going to try something new.

Each Monday, I'm going to try to write about music. I may write about an artist, an album, a musical period, or all of the above.

I'll make a button. Eventually.

Today's subject?

Everybody's favorite fame monster of course!



So, I know there are plenty of people who think she's just way out there strange.

But I love Lady Gaga. I think she's pure genius. She's also an example of our culture, and what it takes to make it in America.

Here she is in the past. Before she went Gaga, she was Stefani.




She's...umm...normal, right?

Listen to a couple songs on that album. Different, huh?

But good!

But, the Fame Monster 1 & 2 is also pretty good in my opinion. On our way to Florida, my best friend and I listened to those two CDs for hours on end.

Which makes a pretty good CD if you're not tired of it after 50 hours. (Okay, 50 hours is exaggerating, but we listened to it a lot. Ha)

The music is infectious. And even if you think the ro-ma-ma-ma-ma-oo-la-ga-ga-ga stuff is stupid, you know you've sang it to yourself more than once.

I mean, Beyonce has worked with the woman. You don't hear of Beyonce collaborating too much either.
So I think that has to say something.

Why do we like her?

Because she's strange.

America -feeds- off of the odd and peculiar. Ironic for a country that pushes for so much conformity, eh?

But it does! We normal folk aren't interested in normal people. We like people who are different.

Think Michael Jackson, Madonna, Britney Spears, or any other celebrity would gain that status being normal? Sure, they're celebrities, but our culture fixates on these oddballs. (Look at the people still buzzing about MJ's death, or "death" as some would call it.)

I don't think so.

So, it doesn't surprise me that Lady Gaga gets as much attention for her quirks as her music.

I do find, that her music repeats themes though. There is another song on the same album (can't remember which off of the top of my head), but it has the exact same background music as Just Dance. The lyrics and melody are different, but, she does recycle a lot of her other pieces into new ones.

Not saying it's a bad thing. But, I suppose interesting is a good word.

Occasionally, artists will refer back to other hits. For example, Bon Jovi sings a lot about the same couple, Tommy and Gina. Michael Jackson in his videos usually referred back to other songs. Wanna be Starting Something refers to Billie Jean, and Dangerous (only when performed live) refers to Smooth Criminal. Britney Spears's Stronger refers back to Baby One More Time. But, it's not quite the same, because they are just snippets of the song, or are sung completely differently. Lady Gaga is the first I've personally heard to just use the background for another song and turn it into a new completely different song.

At first, I thought it was lazy and unoriginal. But, I think it's actually kind of creative. You're free to disagree if you wish :]

Her music itself is interesting too. All of her songs, at least the ones I've heard are very ...dance-y? (I can't currently think of the right word I want to say.) But they do make you want to get up and dance. And all of her songs are upbeat, even the ones that are classified more as pop ballads.

And cripes people, she's ORIGINAL. Sure, she borrows on some themes, but what's wrong with being inspired by other songs? There are only so many combinations of notes, sometimes they are bound to get repeated. It happens. And how many people do -you- know that would wear Kermit the frog?

None. Props to her.

So yes.
I like Lady Gaga. Overall thumbs up, for being a capitalist genius and pretty cool.

What do you think about her?

The Weekend Irk: Thinking Before You Speak

Hey guys, I know it's Monday, but I'm off today, so it's still the weekend to me. So, it's time for:



Today's irk? -- Those social morons who choose to speak before they think things through.

Sure, we've all done it. Said something stupid, spilled a secret, or said something hurtful. Then we clasp our hands over our mouths and say "Oops." (Of course, different words probably go around in our heads, but those are blog appropriate are they?)

But, there are such people that exist out there, that make you wonder: do they -ever- think about the
things they say? Are they really that clueless, or are they purposely saying the stupidest things you've ever heard?

I'm related to one such person, and it boggles me. It's difficult to think that we come from the same gene pool sometimes.

For instance, she looks to my sister and I and says,

"Never date a boy without both of his parents. They're screwed up."

Ahem. First of all, to judge a person simply based on his or her parentage, is idiodic. Second, my father grew up without his parents, and though I'm biased, I think my dad is a pretty upstanding guy. He's always taken care of my sister and I and loves my mother so much. Irritating. My sister and I both dated boys without parents. And though it didn't work out in either case, they are both wonderful guys.

I was irritated.

Then comes the bombshell.

"Girls, do you know anyone who came from a split family who isn't a deliquent?"

I cleared my throat and looked her straight in the eye.

"My best friend comes from the most split family you have ever seen. I don't think anyone in her family hasn't been divorced. But she is the most caring, kindest, most intelligent person I have ever met. And kids like that have been through more than you can imagine. So I'd appreciate it if you'd not say anything like that again around me again. Thanks."



Ironically, I didn't think about saying that before I said it.



What a maroon. -Bugs Bunny