It is a fact that college students’ apartments are never cleaner than they are the night before a big exam. It’s pretty sad when scrubbing the toilet sounds like more fun than cracking a book, but it’s so true, and so not exclusive to college students. I shouldn’t even be here writing this right now, but I’ve got a nearly 1,000 page software manual sitting next to me that I’m meant to be studying for a certification I have to do for work that I can’t even bear to look at. My apartment actually could’ve used a good scrub, but instead of vacuuming and mopping I opted for more fun procrastination activities and did a bit of shopping, made a huge batch of sweet potato soup and topped up my tan at the beach this afternoon. As I wrote that last sentence I actually started feeling a bit guilty. Should I study? Nah, I’ll just put a pillow over the book so I can’t see it. Problem solved.
I used to think that Halloween was just a holiday for kids. Dress up, walk around the neighborhood with your parents, get a pillowcase full of candy and you’re happy. I didn’t really think there was much to it for adults. Boy was I wrong! Halloween just might even be more fun now than it was when I was five years old and was too afraid to go back for the shoe I’d lost as I ran in terror from a man who’d maliciously dressed himself up to look like a dummy and then made a grab for me as I reached innocently for a piece of candy from the bowl in his lap. In fact, yeah…it’s definitely more fun. Besides, adults can eat whatever candy we want without being told we’ll get a stomachache, stay up as late as we want AND we can drink alcohol. Suck on that little children.
Yesterday was a great day, not least because I got to leave work four and a half hours early. Kelly arrived!!! What originally started off as a week-long stay in London eventually was extended into a three week stint that ended when she flew into Miami yesterday afternoon.
As usual, I tracked her flight on Google Earth all morning at work, this time remembering not to panic when the little plane dive bombed-into the middle of the Atlantic. It did eventually reemerge, and when she was just flying over the water off Florida’s northeast coast I grabbed my keys and headed for Miami.
I don’t even know why you’re reading this. If you were like anyone else I’d met this weekend you’d have already laughed derisively and moved on to the New York Post Page Six site as soon as you’d realized I’m not a trust fund baby and I’m not engaged to a multi-millionaire real estate developer. Honestly, it’s a good thing my ego doesn’t bruise easily or else mine would be black and blue after the kind of treatment I received this past weekend.
I thought spring was supposed to be the season when animals and people get all twitterpated. The flowers are blooming, the sun is shining and romance/the instinctual need to procreate is in the air. But it seems like this year autumn is giving spring a run for its money. First it was my sister. Then I noticed a whole slew of single Facebook friends dropping like flies. And the other day I was confronted with yet another type of rather interesting news…my ex-boyfriend is engaged.
Joy of all joys, happiness beyond all belief–no, the kitties haven’t taught themselves to use the toilet–my lost blog entries have been recovered!!! I’ve been searching the past couple days, looking for cached versions of the missing pages, but to no avail. I knew it was hopeless, but I just kept checking, thinking maybe, just maybe, I’d get lucky. Then tonight my hopefulness was rewarded! Finally! I know that in the grand scheme of life losing a couple paragraphs’ worth of personal account of rather uneventful moments in my life is nothing, but it really did bother me. Not only because these entries take quite a lot of time to put together (believe it or not), but because I know that without having something written down it’s as good as forgotten in the years to come. And forgetting moments lived is like the proverbial tree falling in the forest. It’s all well and good if you’ve got someone there to witness your life so you can say a year from now, “Remember that time when I put a gummy bear on the window and it stuck and it looked like it was an evil gummy bear flying in the air all on its own in that picture I took?”, but in times like these when my only roommates are two cats and a gecko, a girl has to make do with what she has so that when I’m seventy I’ll be able to refer back to this and tell my grandchildren all about my exciting life of cat toilet behavior and crappy reality TV.
Okay, so my blog isn’t exactly dead, but my two most recent posts are! After hours of toiling over the correct imagery to use to describe the homeless Santa Claus in Miami and after sharing my personal feelings about Talk Like a Pirate Day, these posts are gone–lost in the ether of cyberspace, never to be seen again. This would be repetitive to say had my latest post not been deleted by some prepubescent dirt bag, but…life is so cruel sometimes.
I was informed by Yahoo! this morning that today, September 19, is officially Talk Like a Pirate Day. Has such a cool non-holiday day ever existed? I think not. I have always been fascinated by all things pirate even though I closed my eyes through the beginning of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World until I was about 10. So, in honor of this day (and also because I have nothing to do for the next hour before I leave to go to Orlando), I give you a pirate-themed post. Arrr.
I sometimes like to consider myself a culturally-inclined person. Of course I go to museums! Doesn’t everybody? Okay, so I only seem to go to museums when I’m traveling and I feel like it’s my moral obligation to do so. But when I do go, I truly appreciate the art. So what if I sometimes ignore priceless ancient artifacts that are responsible for shaping the civilization I live in today because I’m too busy bobbing along to the Harry Lime theme tune playing repeatedly on my audio guide? That’s art, too. And I appreciated it. Even though I don’t stare at a blank canvas on the wall for hours on end trying to discover its subcontext, I do, however, appreciate the fact that gallery openings have free champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
You know, this is the third time I’ve rewritten this entry. I sat down to write some mopey crap to make myself feel better, but I’m just not going to do it. Nuh-uh, not gonna. Because…1. Life’s too short
2. There are people with real problems in the world
3. I can’t help but laugh when I turn on my TV and conservative pundit Tucker Carlson is twirling around like a princess on Dancing with the Stars