Pandamonium

People sometimes throw around words like "addiction" or "unhealthy", calling my 7-11 visits excessive. But they don't get it. Because my daily trips two blocks west aren't just about the diet coke. They're about the kid with his dog who sits outside playing the guitar. And the midnight slurpee runners. And Raj. And the guy today who, when asked how he got the cut on his head responded, "I was thrown across the room by a ghost". He was also wearing a snuggie.

whatever you like.

Using my student card to make a purchase from the vending machine between Sunday School and Relief Society.

Your thoughts...

What's the news from your bed?

A cupcake for breakfast may not have been the best idea. But I'm looking forward to another at lunch.

Sometimes I'm deep in thought and you can see it. Like, you can watch me think. So I was pondering some issue or another, and my lips puckered and my brow furrowed and the elevator opened. I stood face to face with a stranger, while looking like a confused goldfish. There's no recovering from that.

I'd have some Chinese children.

I just took 3 personality tests. I know, right? Narcissist. Or insecure. Or both. But I mean, who really knows themselves? I've never looked in the mirror and thought "Yep, that's me." It's usually "Wow, small nose" or "big eyes" or "have my bangs always looked like that?" and that's just appearance. Personality is that much more abstract. Just like I need someone to tell me if my hair looks ok, I need someone else to tell me the nature of my soul. But maybe you're still hung up on the number 3. excessive, you're thinking. Maybe. But let me explain. The results of my first test were disappointing. "Blue". Boring. Yes I could have paid $29.95 for a 20 page analysis, but it would mean living on the street next month. So I moved on to the Big 5. Which told me I'm generally very anxious. They're full of crap. (It may have mentioned something about defensive). So finally, the Meyers Brigg test. EFNP! "Champions". Extovert, Feeling, Intuitive, Perceiving. Only 2-3% of the population. Just like Phil Donahue.

Amsterdam

Hey remember that one time?

Nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermiiiind

People seem to have a problem with my face. I guess I don't smile all that often. I don't remember any instance ever when someone has said, "Wow, you look so happy today." Instead I hear a lot of "What's wrong?" "Why are you mad?" or even "What did I do?" The answers are always "Nothing," "I'm not" and again, "nothing". Though in actuality after their expressed concern something is wrong, apparently my face, and I'm mad because they asked about it. Remember that Young Womens leader who told you not to give away your kisses to just anyone? I think I took that lesson a little too much to heart and extended a talk intended to keep beehives chaste into a mode of interaction with every fellow human being. In my mind smiling at everyone and everything just makes you a floozy.

No names

In Academia an F means fail. It’s meant to bring shame and despair to the inadequate test taker or paper writer. I’ve lived my life in fear of this end-all. There seemed to be no coming back from a Fail. And I failed. It was a test in Mr. Nozowa’s CP Chemistry class. When he passed the scantron bubble sheets back with the scores printed on the bottom corner, I saw my 49% and became short of breath. With tears welling in my eyes I thought of the colleges I could no longer attend, the look on my parents’ faces, and my ultimate failure as a human being. I looked over at Jesse who sat next to me. He sometimes came to class, sometimes stayed awake, but only to carve offensive phrases in the desk with a compass. I asked how he fared and he held up his scantron. Where my sheet had one penciled-in bubble on each line— my best guess at the right answer, his started with one bubble, centered on top, then three on the next, then five, and so forth until the final result showed the figure of a Christmas Tree. He had added sketches of presents at the bottom and a star and the top. He smiled slyly and there was no doubt in my mind that Jesse was very pleased with himself. His failure was a greater success than an A would have been. I’m not sure where Jesse is now. Last I heard he was publishing poetry. And last I heard he was very happy.