I now understand why people punch glass.

Because I just punched an icicle, and it felt GREAT.

There's nothing like the sensation of winding up your fist and hurling it like a kamikaze into a transparent yet solid mass and watching it shatter at the force of your very touch.

(Please disregard the fact that if I punched anything else, say, a basketball player (like Pau Gasol), he would react in a way similar to that of an orc that had a heavier-than-usual butterfly land on it's arm: with annoyance, confusion, and a slight ticklish sensation. )

(All that was a roundabout way of saying I'm not that good at punching things)

But today I felt lost in a library. And I realized that that has never happened before. This is what happened: I had to go to the Redmond library because I needed a book for my childrens literature class that wasn't anywhere to be found in Bend. And I have this thing about always looking very purposeful while in a library, that way people will know that I can really read. But I discovered that it's really difficult to look around confidently and nonchalantly when you don't even know where to look for something to look at. This was unfortunate but not disastrous: thanks to the Dewey Decimal System: i found the book.
And I discovered that the library is right next to the police station, which is convenient for at least two reasons:
(1. if anyone at the library gets out of control during a book reading, discussion of library fines, or fight over the next Nicholas Sparks book (emotional women get dangerous when they're going after their chick lit fix), the police only a sprint away
(2. if anyone at the police station tries to throw down a fact about the history of baseball that is so obscure it can't be found via the Google, the library (and winning a bet) is only a saunter away.

Also today: my mechanic wouldn't call me back! I called him and left a message to see if I could bring the car by to have him see what the ever-present Check Engine light is coding for this time, and he wouldn't call me back! I mean, it's probably something that the marriage counselor will be able to resolve once we start all that, but I really wish he wouldn't do this to me. I always call him back when he tells me my car is done and this is what I get to pay him, and I haven't seen any other mechanics since I started seeing him exclusively. I wouldn't cheat on my mechanic, not even when he won't call me back!

And I don't get to pretend to be a sorority girl with my best friends this weekend because I have to work, which is always sad.

And Portland traded Pryzbilla, which makes me SO sad because he was the bomb.

I'm done complaining now, because it's ridiculous and also because my mom just gave me a shirt fresh out of the dryer to hold on to. Win.

Epic battle of Anthro vs. Soc

Note: "Anthro" and "Soc" are not the names of sexy Greek gods, as you may have thought when you clicked on that link to read this. Sorry. 

So I hate Anthropology.

And writing that is a little bit awkward because I'm sitting in my Anthropology class right now, and I'm sitting by my dear friend Kaitlyn who has made Anthropology her major, and I'm pretty sure if my professor read that she would weep hysterically and immediately give me a failing grade.

But the point stands: I haaaaate Anthropology.

I wish I liked it, I really do, but I don't. I'm more of a Sociology person.

"What," you may ask, "Is the difference between Anthropology and Sociology? They're both social sciences that end in 'ology' that no one under the age of 50 without a doctorate blogs about."

Well, since you asked, I'll explain it.

Say there's a big empty cardboard box.

An Anthropologist would approach the box and stand there looking at it for a while, to see if it might move. Then she would touch the box, to see what it felt like. She would probably also listen to the box to see if it makes sounds. Then she would climb inside the box and repeat the looking, touching, and listening. Then she would gently sweep up any crumbs or bits of trash inside the box and look at, touch, and listen to them to try to figure out what they are. She would camp out inside the box for about seven years, trying to figure out how the box feels and what it does and why.

A Sociologist would walk up to the box and try to figure out it's function. He would analyze how it could fulfill this function better and what else the box would do. He would look at the outside and at the inside, and then he would take the box apart. He would see how the seams fit together, how to maximize the space within it, appreciate and critique the design of it. He would take a sample to figure out what the box is made out of and if it's the best material for the job. He would go through records and do tests to figure out what was in the box.

So... yeah. Back to class.

Library Paranoia: Episode One

So I'm at the library, and I'm paranoid because:

(a. I keep thinking that someone is reading this over my shoulder, and this makes me feel paranoid because
     1. I HATE IT when people read, look, stare, glance, or otherwise use their eyes any which way that goes over my shoulder (which, by the way, are 7 inches wide, which is HALF of the width of Dwight Howard's shoulders, just saying).
     2. I'm concerned about what starting a blog post about sitting in a library while sitting in a library will do to my street cred (that I have today because I'm wearing my black Vans).
     3. I don't really know where this blog is going.
(b. I'm not used to having people sitting next to and behind me, and have a large, unmovable table in front of me. There is no clear escape path.
(c. This paranoia and this list is proving to me, more than ever, that I have a personal bubble issue (as well as all the other issues that have been mentioned in previous blog posts).

And I understand that this is a cultural thing. Americans in general are super weird about standing or sitting too close to strangers. We hastily apologize if we even come close to violating the 2 inch bubble of air lava that surrounds everyone.

I understand this because I'm guilty of it.

Which is really the most personal way to understand something.

And even though I wrote all this out and it looks ridiculous on the screen, I keep stealing glances at the people next to me to make sure they're not judging me as a total library/writing dweeb. Even though they probably figured that out when I typed in my library card number from memory.

Return of the nerdy/pathetic/horrible/hilarious pick up line!

I can’t deny it.

I think pick up lines are hilarious.

No, they don’t work.

But they’re awesome. And I think they should come back into style, if only for irony's sake.

And in honor of the coming holiday (or day that Hallmark invented just to make more $$$, if you hate Valentines Day), here is a list of my favorites.

-----------------------

I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?

You must be gravity, baby, because you’re the only thing keeping me here.

Do you have a quarter? I want to call your parents and thank them.

You must be the square root of 2 cause I feel irrational around you.

Baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be what they call FINE PRINT!

Did it hurt? (Did what hurt?) When you fell from heaven!

Wow you’re pretty. You must be a Mac!

Here I am! What were your other two wishes?

It’s so hot in here. Is it global warming, or is it you?

I have a mouthful of Skittles, wanna taste the rainbow?

Hey, are you Jamaican? Because Jamaican me crazy!

Baby, you'd better lower your pitch, 'cause right now, you're lookin' sharp!

You must be a prizefighter. One look at you, and I’m knocked out.

Baby, you are as mysterious as the random reboot problems I’m having with my Linux server!

You’re so cool, I’ve got to measure you in Kelvin.

You must be augmented cause my love for you just won't diminish!

I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away.

http://www.forbes.com/2006/07/24/cx_df_0724_pickupslide_9.html?thisSpeed=20000

http://www.nixiepixel.com/nerdy-pick-up-line/

http://bloggasm.com/50-nerdy-pick-up-lines

http://whoisandy.com/nerdy-pickup-lines/

www.pickup-lines.org/pick-up-lines/cute/

http://www.soft.com.sg/forum/music-kopi-tiam/66526-music-nerds-pickup-lines.html

26 things you didn't know I loved.

1). The Pythagorean Theorem. Specifically, Euclid's proof of it. I love things like functions and equations and formulas that consistently make sense.
2). My library card that’s broken in half because it’s so old and I use it so much.
3). My feet. I like that my middle toe isn’t longer than my big toe, and I’ve decided that I don’t mind the scar on my right foot anymore.
4). MLA (Modern Language Association). I love citing things and using correct punctuation and knowing how to do something exactly right.
5). Watching skateboarding and BMX. It’s literally one of my favorite things to do.
6). People that will argue with me. Because I’m not right all the time. But I always have an opinion, and reasons for it. I think you should have an opinion and reasons, too, and even if they’re not mine, I want to listen to you. So I would rather be with someone who tests my opinions and logic than someone who assumes I’m right.
7). Foosball. Actually, a lot of you probably know that already, but I’m addicted.
8). Long van rides with people I want to get to know better. Which is everybody. I love asking questions and finding out things I didn’t know about people I thought I knew well.
9). Typing. When I was in elementary and middle school I had to do this typing practice thing ever day. I hated it, but I got good at it. Now I can type while reading.
10). Campfire smoke. Some of my favorite childhood memories have the smell of campfire smoke attached to them, so whenever I smell it, I smile.
11). Movies that have realistic over happy endings. I would rather end a movie feeling like I learned something about life than full of an emotional high.
12). Dictionaries.
13). Thesauruses.
14). Metaphors. My current favorite is about something a couple told a group of my friends an I when they were teaching us how to waltz.
They said that when a couple is dancing the dance as it was meant to be danced, the audience will always be watching the woman. This is deliberate on the man’s part.
He knows that his role in the dance is to lead, and to show off the lady. He does this by leading firmly but gently, in everything he does he has her in mind, he doesn’t go anywhere without her consenting to go with him.
The lady gets the attention, yes, but she also has the difficult task of following. If she tries to jump ahead, the dance gets thrown off rhythm. If she lags behind to make sure he’s doing the right thing, the dance gets thrown off rhythm.
The only way for the dance to look beautiful is for her to trust that he’s going to take care of her and that he knows what he’s doing. It will not work any other way.
If the dance is going to look beautiful, she has to trust his strength and he has to trust that he’s strong enough. He has to depend on her to follow him.
And maybe it’s just me, but I think that’s lovely. Whether you’re talking about man/woman friendships, dating, marriage, the relationship between God and the church, or if you just want to leave it at two people dancing together, it’s lovely.
15). Switching things up. I don’t like to be predictable.
16). Sand. I think I’ve said this before, but the first time I went to the coast when I was 4 or something, I don’t remember ever seeing the ocean. All I remember is sand. Well, that and making a pyramid with my cousins and me being the tiny blonde one on top.
17). Used books. My favorites are the ones that someone has already marked up and underlined things in.
18). When people get excited that my name is spelled with a Z.
19). Old kitchens. I think this stems back to my grandparent’s old house, because it had formica countertops and bar stools and vintage pebble flooring, and I remember the kitchen almost never being empty because that’s where the family would gather.
20). Bass players. They’re incredibly under appreciated.
21). Writing letters. Short ones, long ones, ones written on 20 pieces of different sized paper, ones that only say “hi.”
22). Stained glass.
23). Little kid’s jokes.
24). Old British man’s jokes.
25). Falling asleep reading.
26). Adding something else onto a list so it isn’t a boring 25 things long.

And then there’s the list of things most people already know I like. Windows, Christmas lights, Tupperware, writing, the color blue, sweaters, miniature things, clean socks, drinking coffee in a cup with no lid, beards, babies, people watching, etc.

The fear with no name (literally, it doesn't have one).

Everyone is entitled to an irrational fear, right?

Like take Acerophobia- Fear of sourness. It’s irrational, what could a Warhead or lemon do to you, force you to make a stupid face which would promptly end your life?

Well, maybe.

Or Dutchphobia- Fear of the Dutch. If the Dutch were known for something scary like a heat-sensing laser pistol, this fear might have some sort of foundation. But the Dutch don’t have a heat-sensing laser pistol. They’re Dutch. What are they going to do, hit you with wooden clogs and drag you to their windmill and put tulips on your grave?

Venustraphobia- Fear of beautiful women. This one is actually pretty legitimate, they’re trouble.

Chorophobia- Fear of dancing. This makes me think of the fear of public speaking - you just have to do it, there’s no magic trick to making this fear go away. You either pull a Napoleon Dynamite and dance it out, or you... don’t.

Thaasophobia- Fear of sitting. I don’t even know how to sarcastically mock this one, all I can think to say is: “BUMMER.” Because it’s hard to eat Thanksgiving dinner standing up, and it’s probably even harder to do laying down.

My point is: we all have completely irrational fears (even if you don’t, pretend for a moment that you do, then I’ll feel less ridiculous) that are not based on evidence or reality or anything that remotely make sense. But the fear is real.

My fear is irrational enough that it doesn’t even have a name.

Putting-your-car-in-neutral-and-being-pushed-to-your-doom-phobia?

Huge-black-spinning-things-coming-at-your-head-phobia?

Water-everywhere-only-separated-by-your-cheap-1995-Thunderbird-window-phobia?

NO-WAY-OUT-IF-ANYTHING-GOES-WRONG-IN-THIS-CAR-WASH-phobia?

And it’s been like this for as long as I can remember. There have been no tragic car wash deaths, no car destroying events, nothing even going remotely wrong to happen in my life whilst in a car wash.... and still the fear exists and remains.

Proof: when I was 16 or so, I made the mistake of videotaping myself going through a car wash.

This is a bad idea, but you can watch it here.

This blog has no point, I just wanted to explain my Facebook status to Lindsey.