Pwaul wrote something that reminded me we're related

I'm exactly the same way. If someone asks me to go wash their car for them I feel like a jerk telling them I am on my way to work. In the meantime they let me feel like one. Your friends are right. It's all about confidence. You have to be okay with feeling the way you do, and self-assured enough to tell people about it. When in doubt, speak your truth. And don't worry about the rest. If someone genuinely has a problem with you not wanting to be a floor mat, what good are they to you? There's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to give to others... but know that it will almost always inevitably cause people to use it as opportunity.

For instance, where I work (in a placement home for juvenile delinquent and abused young teenage girls) if I for one second let my guard down and show them pity they take advantage of me. They will make up a crazy story to make me feel bad for them so they can get out of a chore. They know that people feel bad for them, and they don't seem to take to heart how much value there is to find in a person that cares because they have never had that feeling before. But either way, it doesn't do them any good for me to pity them. And it doesn't do anyone else any good for you to let others walk all over you. Not for the person that is doing it, and not for you. If you stand your ground and make them see how ridiculous their request feels to you, chances are they will start trying to do you favors to make up for it.

8 AMs

The worst thing INVENTED. They should be illegal. I am pretty sure my professor even said "This is too early for me. And I'm retired." Yeah you know what happened? The last required class of my major had a 4:15 section that freaking canceled a day before last semester ended, so they moved 80 people to the 8 AM section. And of course, this being my second to last legitimate class schedule... I had no other choice. So they pulled this teacher FROM THE GRAVE and made him teach IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

I tried to do the real college thing for the first time ever. Rolled out of bed and threw on stretch pants and a sweatshirt. Didn't even brush my hair. I feel like a creature right now. I have two more classes that must witness me like this. I think I might be slightly OCD because it feels like a waste to make myself look presentable if I have already gone out in public. It's like.. they already know. I am not foolin anyone by acting like I have looked decent all day long. As soon as I step outside someone's gonna walk by and yell "I AM IN YOUR 8 AM THAT WAS NOT WHAT YOU WERE WEARING." And I will, defenselessly (for what defense is there?) go back to my apartment, roll in some dirt, and put my lazy outfit back on, thus restoring my creature state.

I like to draw

When in Rome

I can't decide if I should go to Rome this summer or not. I was hoping someone out there would give me a reason that would put me over the edge of this fence I've been perched on for some time. Here's what you need to know.

1. It's 7 weeks.

2. It's $10,000. Not including the grants and loans I get for a usual semester so this total could potentially change if I can get any scholarships. (So p.s. if anyone knows of some good scholarships out there let me know!)

3. It is during my 21st birthday. Oh sadness. I can't even indulge in the forbidden fruits of America. The enjoyment of my 21st birthday will be severely downplayed by the already lax attitude that Europeans have towards alcohol. It will be like if I have never seen a bean. Well okay I have seen them but I have never been allowed to see them... if you know.. what I mean... or perhaps use them in my cooking??? THEN I go to bean country. And I am like YOU GUYS HAVE BEEEEAAAAANNNSSS?!?!?!!??!?!?!??!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? They're like. Yeah. Dumbass. It's bean country. Happy Birthday, stupid. Except they say it in Italian. WHICH I SPEAK because all Italian is, is English wth an 'A' on the end of everything!!! I am speaking with such ignorance, that I am practically an American student in Europe already! I can just hear the voices of my previous travel group.

"I hate the food they make us. Let's find a Pizza Hut. In Spain. Cuz that makes sense."
"YEAH"
"I hate the showers we have to use. They're small. Their need to conserve water in Spain does not support my vanity."
"YEAH"
"These Spanish people don't speak English very well. It almost sound like another language. Kind of like... Spanish. I don't know how to speak that language!!! I hate them"
"YEAH!"

It just won't be as exciting a 21st birthday. It will be more like.. just another day in Italy. Okay I can't believe I just used that as a downside. Just another day in Italy? That's way better than just another day in Amish country in the middle of the summer where my life couldn't possibly contribute to society any less, working for a temp agency that serves rich bastards their food. It's almost like I am telling and not asking at this point, huh. Sorry I will stop.

4. I'll be living independently in an apartment with other students from my school. We cook for ourselves and manage our own schedules. We even have the ability to do our own traveling on weekends.
"What do you wanna do this weekend?"
"I was thinking Berlin?"
"Yeah okay."
Porn will be bought. Just cuz. When in Berlin.

5. I don't need any of the credits I'll be receiving. Then again, this didn't stop me from going to Spain so I don't know why I care all of a sudden. The time will be spent learning about Italian families and cultures. And I should let the price that Academia has put on learning keep me from enjoying learning for its own sake.

6. There will be wifi this time. For FREEz. Unlike Spain, where I couldn't really communicate with anyone.. and going to Europe was more like not existing for a month... I will actually be able to keep in touch with people. And bring my laptop. This could make all the difference.

7. I won't have a rude host mom to deal with. Or a smelly dog named Arazmus.

8. Do I need more reasons?

9. I guess the pros outweigh the cons, huh?

10. Let me know what I am too afraid to admit. Kthanksz.

Leroy

I see a lazy man on a couch eating potato chips, watching a sporting event. His name is Leroy. I have chosen this name because it is a combination of ugly and hilarious. His wife, whom he hasn't spoken to much lately, walks by. She looks at him sadly, suitcase in hand, and tells him she's leaving. He knows he doesn't want her to go but he doesn't know how to make her stay. He thinks to himself... "If it's meant to, it will work out."

OMGNO. I swear this is the place that horrid wretched phrase came about. This man right here. I can't think of where else it could have come from. We have power over our circumstance.. and there is even more power in that realization alone. It is far more than we give ourselves credit for. Too much have I left to fate.. too much have I left to chance. "If it's meant to happen it will" feels good to say because it is just altogether lazy. It divorces us from our situation and leaves it in the hands of the universe (bad idea). I think I'd rather have a tight grip on it than feel it slipping through my fingers until I can't even feel it anymore.

If you are making it happen, and you see it happen, then it will happen because it's definitely happening and you're making it happen so there's really no question. How much more simple can it get? How arrogant are we to believe that the spirit of fate will make our car start with a dead battery as one more child dies of aids? I guess fate skips that part of the world. Time to get off the couch.

Of course it's never that easy is it? As soon as we realize we can make things happen for ourselvs... we start to do just that. I always catch myself in these downward spirals of "If I just do this..." Find the right job. The right friend. The right style. The right foods. The right community organization. If I do that I'll start to feel like I wasn't raised on Mars. I won't get sad or disappointed. I will feel like there is a plan to my existence.. a reason for my very being. But my God... this just is not so. A friend said to me, "Happiness is now." How much simpler does it get?

Life is just one heap of trouble, pain, inconveniences, stabs in the back, decisions, mistakes, disappointments, confusion, high expectations, low outcomes... and how the list goes on. Are we not just lucky that if for some strange 5 second period, we are smiling? If for 5 minutes out of the week we are laughing from our soul... and not just doing it to feel like we belong in the situation... if for 20 seconds in one day we feel like we belong somewhere? Anywhere?

The library. Studying our favorite topic- knowing that we were made to do something that not everyone we meet could do. To catch a glimpse- a picture of who we could be. To be more than we have discovered yet.

In someone's arms. Knowing that we are loved to a degree that we don't have to worry that we will be left. And I won't say "even if it's just your mom..." ESPECIALLY if it's your mom!

By ourselves with the freedom of knowing we are comfortable in our own skin.

In a town we could give someone directions through with our eyes closed and a sock in our mouth.

....I believe that any amount of time that we feel like we belong somewhere is the most happiness a human can feel. So if for 2 seconds in the next hour this feeling comes, then it is well worth the wait of a week... a month... a year..... or a bad situation that felt like it would never end.

Do not surrender to life, because it will not surrender to you. Don't think for one instant that the rain will stop being a problem just because you bought an umbrella. Because soon after the wind will gust by and break it and you'll have two problems instead of one. And then you'll wish you would have enjoyed that moment you had a working umbrella instead of a piece of fabric wrapped around a stick. And then you'll wish you would have sat in the passing sunshine that came and went in 30 seconds instead of saying to yourself "Why can't the sun just stay out?"Make life the best it can be.. why? Because you can.

And as for you, Leroy: go get your wife before she finds an even lazier man with an even less attractive first name!

So this is the New Year...

The following is a list of things that I am bringing into the New Year

1. A few days ago my computer, with a newly purchased giant hard drive, decided to laugh in my face. Well I shouldn't say my computer really. Specifically it was my computer hinge. Yeah it like exploded. My Dad just looked at it and said, "How did this even happen?" God only knows. It's not even like I was carrying it around by the hinge or something. I was just like you know sitting there using the computer, as I assume the people who made it thought I would do... and it was like IMABREAKRIGHTNOWZZZ. So yeah, number one of the items I am going into the new year with is a new hinge constructed from a strip of duct tape on either side of my computer. New hard drive: $90. Roll of duct tape: $3. Knowing that you can overcome a minor mechanical break if you have absolutely no shame: Priceless.

2. That last sentence is actually number 2. I just realized that other day that I really honestly don't give a damn how other people see me. It felt sooooooooooooo good. I was like... YEAH.. I am just what I am and I don't have to worry about the rest. It was like, the most freeing thing I have ever thought. Unless what I am is like a murderer or someone that runs around making random animal noises in public. But fortunately I'm not. That's right. All I run around screaming is a silent cry of AWESOMENESS from my very being!!!!! (Boy it is hard to convey sarcasm in writing).

3. I just figured out and accepted that I LOVE BEING ALONE and I am okay with this. WHO NEEDS FRIENDS WHEN YOU HAVE BLOGGING. (just kidding again). But really. I used to feel bad about it. I used to be like. Man. Everyone else is at a party. I am doing a puzzle. Man. I am doing a craft. Man. shouldn't I want to go party?? But now I am like... um no. I am doing a craft, or a starcraft (thats for you Pwaul), and you know what that's what I wanna be doing chumpsters. And if I feel like getting exhausted by large groups of people, by golly I'm gonna go power up over a charming puppy and kitty scene in puzzle form. And I am gonna say by golly if I wanna.

5. T shirt clothes. Omg. So Keren, the smartest person ever, bought me the perfect Christmas gift. Which is "108 Ways to Transform a Tshirt." Believe it or not my friends, there are that many things you can do with a few old Tshirts, scissors, and a needle and thread. Incredible. I already made a skirt. And don't judge it til you rock it.

4. Honesty. An old friend that I said farewell to for a time, but have now reconciled with. I've always been the worst liar like ever. But I went through this weird phase last semester where I thought maybe I shouldn't be so honest all the time, esspecially when people don't really want the truth. This idea all but turned me into a bland-please-everyone-cookie-cutter-girl. THANK GOD I figured this out before it was too late. I just pushed a couch in fronta THAT train. Phew.

5. Applesauce. I never knew how much I liked it. It's so cheap and easy too. And it's fruit. Perfect.


This concludes my list of items to carry through 2009. And as for all you phantom readers, I'd love to hear about yours too. Like for instance, an imaginary fan of my blog might have the resolution of "I hope to actually exist so that Elizabeth can have a blog fan." Just simple things like that.

The good old days

I just hit my knee on this desk, coming out of a spin around to get up and let the dog back inside. Just as I have done multiple times this week, just as I have done multiple times over these many many years of living in this house. I've been feeling so nostalgic lately. It's hard not to during the Holidays. I was thinking the other day, that I might physically die if my parents ever sold this house. My house. I have never lived in any other. What would I do if I were to see someone elses clothes and clutter strewn on the floor of my bedroom, with pictures of people I have never met, atop shelves that I have never seen. My parents are always threatening to sell this house and move to the beach. They always say they're just joking, followed up by the fact that there isn't enough money on the ZC estate to cover that anyway.

Why does nostalgia bring pain? Why does it hurt to remember being so little that you had to be carried around on someone's shoulder? I think back to eating mac and cheese at a tiny kid sized table in the tv room with my brother. I remember watching my dad build a fire in the woodstove. I remember the time that our dog, Sailor, got stuck in the Christmas tree. We found her underneath it, in a puddle of her own pee. That was hilarious. But still these breif moments of enjoyment I get out of remembering "the good ol days" is followed up by sadness. Perhaps over the fact that I can never return to those days. That I am a hop skip and a jump away from being far away from home for good. Well I don't really know, which is why I ask. Any takers?

Panera Bread; A Recipe for Success

I stared at the line of customers coiling out the door of Panera. They were all here for one thing: food. There were posters obnoxiously placed throughout the restaurant giving them reason to believe that there was one reason that we, the employees were here: “bread is our passion.” We’re bakers. Bread is our culture. We bake. Bread is our soul. Bread is who we are. Many believe we make bread here, but really- it is the bread that makes us. Yes, we at Panera go home and sleep on a loaf of bread bed. We dream of whole wheat and Ciabatta dancing hand in hand through a field of grain, where the rivers flow with preservatives and money. For me- I had always been okay with bread. Never really had a problem with it. Me and bread were on pretty good terms. But it was no more than the walls of a sandwich, really. I would never say I was passionate about bread. It occurred to me while baking some bread, and by “baking” I mean receiving pre-made frozen dough from a truck each morning and putting it in an oven, that there are many components- or ingredients to a chain-bakery's success. As the heat of the oven thawed the bread, I unloaded my thoughts. Each of these ingredients is what the people that work there bring to it- and none of them really benefit from it any more than minimum wage (or so I thought at this point). And in the end, just as the bread is devoured and digested by a happy customer, our team of ingredients would come together ultimately to make the corporation richer as we suffered the grunge work of the process.

“Why do people even want to come here?” I said to Clarise, the girl working the cash register next to me. She was unusually chipper despite the fact that she had devoted far too much of her life already to a chain-bakery. “Because it’s good foood,” she said in her usual way of accentuating the ‘oo’ sounds in her words. And when she did, she’d curve her lips like she was mooing. She was one of the most tolerable of the people I had to work with. I could appreciate Clarise. When I first started working at Panera, she was the person who had told me she was going to train me, and then actually trained me. The same could not be said for Mary.
On my very first day I was handed off to a girl who was convinced she was as bad ass as an ex-convict. Every time she gave me sass, I wanted to remind her that she would probably be carded at a PG-13 rated film. She overviewed the basics with me. She presented toilet cleaning as though it was rocket ship building- only far more advanced. When I showed her I could competently Windex the mirror, I gained a small bit of her respect. It was enough for her to start talking to me like a human.
“So you have a boyfriend?” She acted uninterested, not looking up from her wiping.
“Yeah I do.” I told her.
“How long you been dating?”
“Well we just started seeing each other in March, so only a few months or so.” I said.
“Does he live around here?”
“Uh, no. He’s from Pittsburgh.” She seemed shocked.
“How’d you meet then?”
“At college.” I said. And then she drew her head back and squinted as though I suddenly smelled terrible.
“ You’re in college? Shit. You don’t look like you’re in college. I thought you were younger than me. “
“Thank you?” I said.
“Boys are all the same. I’m sure he’s all sweet and shit on the phone. But in a month or so he’s gonna be fucking some other girl.” I had no idea how to respond to this. A second ago we were developing a cure for cancer via bathroom cleaning. I wished we could go back to that. Even if it did mean being patronized by a 15 year old. I tried to change the subject.
“So.. are you thinking about college yet ?”
“If nothin’ gets in my way.” She said like she desperately wanted me to ask what she meant.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“I might be pregnant.” With the way she said it, she could have easily been saying “I might be getting a cold.” I was done trying to salvage any hopes for normalcy of this first day. So I just went with it. Apparently she was dating some jackass who thought she was “good enough to fuck but not good enough to take to the prom.” I asked her why she put up with someone like that, and she said “Because I love him.” All in five minutes I discovered she might be pregnant, had poor self-esteem, and that she was also an orphan. The last discovery allowed me to excuse her behavior. By the end of the night I had made my way onto her good side, perhaps only because I was older than she was.

No fellow associate at Panera was without an interesting story. There was Matt. He certainly wasn’t the first gay guy I have ever met. When you’re into theatre and the arts, it’s 100% unavoidable to have a few gay best friends. Matt was quite possibly the most flamboyant human being ever to exist. He’d stand in the back and do dishes while scream singing Carrie Underwood in 300 different keys. We’d try to hold our tongues around him, because somehow anything you said to him was turned into an anti-gay comment.
“Matt. Can you cut this sandwich evenly?”
“Just cuz I am gay, doesn’t mean you can tell me I can’t cut a sandwich.”
“Matt, can you stop singing that song so loudly? The customers can hear you out front and they’re complaining.”
“DAMN. People ALWAYS hatin’ on the gay guy.” Since I really didn’t care about the customer’s well-being, or how much profit I was raking in for the owner of Panera who is undoubtedly neither a baker, nor passionate about bread, I just observed from afar. I didn’t risk sounding homophobic by saying hello to him.

There was Linda. My manager. She was a lesbian. She and Matt were best friends. I guess they understood each other. If anyone said anything to Matt, she’d come racing in to his aid. Linda was one of the most sickening human beings I have ever seen. Linda followed the fairy tale theme, as her personality was equally horrid. Like most heterosexuals, I find it hard to imagine being attracted to any gender other than my opposite. But Linda had a way of reiterating this feeling. She was gigantic, always greasy. Her hair never seemed washed, and stuck out sporadically atop an egg shaped face that always appeared to be melting. A line from Shakespeare’s "The Comedy of Errors" came to mind when I was around her, which was “she’s the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter; if she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week longer than the whole world.” She never tried to overcompensate for this fact by being nice either. But despite this, I took pity on her on the day I realized she was so unaware of the rest of our hatred of her. She asked me to make her a sandwich. Any restaurant manager that is knowingly despised would never be dumb enough to ask one of their bitter underdogs to make food for them. I decided that amiability, appearance, and wits weren’t quite her strong suits. But I hoped there was something else inside the woman who always came to work hung over and then dared to yell at us for placing a tomato slice crooked.

Customers are also, of course another main ingredient to the ‘bread’ that is a business and the business of bread. They are more than that, actually. Without customers, the business would not continue. There would be no greedy hands pointing and ordering. There would be no profit. There would be no paychecks. Without our customers, there would be no bread. Customers will never let you forget this either. This obvious realization manifests itself in many forms. I will first describe the forms, then provide a short dialogue that exemplifies them for better understanding. 1.) Ordering items that are not, never have, and never will be on the menu. No matter how ridiculous the item demanded may sound- in their mind, it makes perfect sense. Note: A dramatization
“Excuse me, do you have an elephant –hoof sandwich?”
“I’m sorry. No we don’t.”
“What. Do. You. Mean?"
2.) Insisting that “they have it at the OTHER Panera.” Auh yes, the all consuming “other Panera.” For some reason this statement means we must do whatever they tell us to do.
“Excuse me, could I please have a #5, and also your soul?”
“You can have the #5 certainly, but as for my soul.. we really don’t offer that ma’am.”
“They do at the OTHER Panera.”
The "other" Panera is always cleaner, more efficient, and better overall. The "other" Panera always waits on your hand and foot. They are there when your baby is born, when your son graduates from college, and when a loved one passes. If the "other" Panera actually spat in their food, swore at them, and then drop-kicked them in the face, and even if there were no ‘other’ Paneras (which there unfortunately are) customers would still use this line.
3.) Reminding the employees that they are above you. This comes across as them not knowing that we as humans evolved from the Ape a very long time ago. And from this age we were granted with many opportunities: throwing our trash away, peeing IN a toilet, and putting more food into our mouth than we do on the floor. If there is one thing I have learned from working at Panera, it is that no matter how near or conveniently placed a trashcan may seem, it is always too far or poorly placed for someone. I have picked up paper towels right next to the trashcan. Right behind the trashcan. On top of the trashcan. Why is it that only a lucky two out of ten have the brainpower to produce the revelation that it goes IN the trashcan?
4.) The fourth and final form that I will actually discuss is: asking an employee a question, only to announce they already know the answer.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, what bagels don't have dairy in them?”
“I'm not sure. Would you like to look over our nutritional guide book?”
“Sure. Hmm this one has dairy. This one does too. What about plain? Do you think plain bagels have dairy in them?”
“I am going to go ahead and guess that they all do based on what we've read so far..”
“NO, NO. They don't. See? See??!” As they point rapidly at the page.
“Would you like to buy one then...?”
“Well. I GUESS.” And then they will sigh like it is the most inconvenient thing in the world that Panera was not formed for them. Not only this, but that the employee working with them has direct control over all the products sold. Because they obviously were the ones to found, launch, and oversee the company. This is why they are now put on display in a stupid hat and apron, forced to wait on the hand and foot of strangers. Clearly the owner of a large chain-business usually does this.

As I mentioned before there were really no benefits to working at Panera while I was there. But in retrospect, this experience was one that built character. I realize there are certain parts of climbing the ladder to achievement that most of us cannot skip. The nice part about a summer job, is that sooner or later you return to school and the nightmare is over. Then you know never to work in food services ever again. But in addition to this, you may also learn to be patient with people who might be a little less fortunate than you are. You learn learn how to handle the angriest, rudest, meanest people you will ever meet in your life. On my lunch break (when they were so gracious as to actually let me sit down after working for eight hours). I’d sit there in my degrading and heinous outfit. I would watch who I later labeled as “real women.” They wore heels and nice skirts or pant suits. I could tell they had careers. I could tell they didn’t answer to 16 year olds, and that they were good at what they did. This is a sub-ingredient, job-requirement even. If you are making lots of money for someone else at crappy minimum wage, you have to despise your job. You have to hate it so passionately that everyone you see is somehow better off than you are. This is so you can dream big, and realize you are meant for something a little better (or at least hope).

Through my experience at Panera, I many times found myself despondent over just being there. My job felt so worthless. It made me miserable. I worked with miserable people, and I wasn’t doing it for the betterment of society, or to develop any job skills, or whatever else I may conjure up as a just reason to torture myself. I was making money yes, but I suppose there’s another small project alongside working at Panera. In addition to all the strange and bizarre, but real people that create this business, there is my own little bread project, if you will. We have all had crappy jobs. Even the people who would get to keep all the cash that would run through my hands and into a drawer each day, once had a crappy job. Looking back on this I can see these rich people benefiting from my labor that I envisioned in my head weren't the only ones receiving success through my work experiences. No experience working with people and business is wasted. Regardless of where we end up in the end, we all have to wait through the meaningless mush and slop of dough that sometimes is our life. The hardest part is waiting for the dough to rise through the tough stages until we reach that point where we’re all good and ready to be finished, displayed, and taste tested by the world. But if we get through that we'll be okay- until we must build another project anyway. Not everything in life feels like it has a purpose while we're doing it.

If I turn into another, dig me up from under what is covering the better part of me

My mom always says "Seems like it's either Christmas or July," and I feel that more than ever these days. I can't believe college is about 3/4 over for me. It hasn't quite been all people claimed it to be.. not yet anyway. But at least I met the best friend I may ever have in this world in college. I'd say that counts for something. My God time is racing by. I guess I am writing this because I assume that everyone else ignores this network as much as I do. So it's one of those, 'I hope no ones looking, but if they are I'll pretend I don't notice because I secretly hope they are looking' deals. I have been thinking a lot about the people that have come and gone into my life lately. Some I wish I had given more of a chance to, others I wish I hadn't been so forgiving..

I guess when you don't lie to people, or if you're really just bad at lying and you gave up on trying a long time ago (case and point.. me) you're all the more taken aback when someone lies to you. It's like wait a minute.. you can't do that. Like it's not possible! And then you're not sure whether to be angry or just impressed. Especially when it's someone you've spent a good amount of time caring about. So I guess... while I may struggle with the answer as to whether or not I am hard on myself, or just other people, the question still lingers. When do you decide you've had enough? How do you decide that someone takes more than they give? When do you draw the conclusion that they are not worth it?

I hate that. How could anyone not be worth it? "There is no one you cannot love once you have heard their life story.." Is this true? I guess it is not so much whether or not you have heard their life story... but whether or not they have heard their own life story. Or if they have heard the life story of other people. Some people bring more than just themselves to a relationship.. and it is pounds and pounds of baggage. The cruddiest crap of life all in one sack. I think those people that are not worth it are the ones that decide they are victims to their shitty situation. They decide the world owes them something for the pain they've endured and therefore uses those that give them a chance as a punching bag. The decide they're the only ones that know pain.

However, those that refuse to believe they are conquered, and do not spit in the face of their previous self carry on. They are resilient. They give themselves a chance, so why shouldn't we follow suit?

Too Many Visits to Starbucks in One Day

I hate all the music on my ipod right now. I'm flipping through and I'm like... hate that... hate that too... why did I even add this? Why did they even write this? Except for one song... Chaka khan... I'm every Woman...

ohh yeahh

I ain't braggin cause I'm the one. You just ask me (ooohh) and it shall be done!

It's a good song for woman power feelings. And who doesn't need those every now and then? I'm in a goofy mood. Conveniently, I also have three papers due tomorrow. Actually scratch that. I have two papers due tomorrow, and one due in one hour (midnight). Yeah whatever. I got better things ta do!!! Like write crap on here that no one even reads or even knows about for that matter. My phone is dying. Shut up Belle and Sebastian. I don't want to hear you either and your run on sentence songs. I like them sometimes but right now I hate everything but Chaka Khan... I'm every woman, it's all in me. Anything you want done, baby, I'll do it naturally!

Siggghhhhh. Time is slipping away. It's getting closer and closer to midnight. I'm like Cinderella. I am wearing my dress of opportunity. That is, opportunity to write my paper. Soon I will be derobed of this, just as cinderella was. My carriage will be revealed for the pumpkin it truly is. God maybe I should just freaking write it.