Thus is Life.

Because I know you are all dying to know, I did, in fact, go running. I should have worn gloves. My hands were pretty icy by the time I got back.

I should be doing homework right now. Studying, in fact. For three tests. But I have studied so much over the last few days that I am feeling very studied-out. And I'm still not quite ready for my tests.

I just realized I was making strange faces as I typed. Thinking about my multiple tests is not pleasant.

Just moments ago I went down to our beloved laundry room and ran into an Indie-Rock band. The four guys had beards and beanies and all. Very hipster, and very loud. So I took a picture. It's not a very good one, but I felt awkward taking the previously mentioned photo and they felt awkward being watched. So I left quickly. I just found it so very... college. It must be noted that the picture below is not one of my new awkward hipster friends. It is a random picture of a random guy who lives on the Google images page. He just looks very similar to my new hipster friends.

It's funny, because my image of college from the standpoint of high school is very different than life. I thought I would be out partying every weekend, up until at least midnight every night and going on more dates than I could count. And here I am studying on a Friday night.

Let me clarify, I do go out and party during the weekend. Just not every weekend. Some weeks the homework monster eats me whole and doesn't spit me out for days at a time. It's quite unpleasant I must admit. But so worth it. I'd rather encounter the homework monster every day than work at a pizza place for the rest of my life. I'm so done with my job. The people are fun and I like the customers. I'm just completely and utterly bored. I'm ready for a job that involves some sitting and less heavy lifting. And that I don't walk away from smelling like pepperoni and fried dough (no, we don't fry the pizzas. Just everything else.)

And I just had to include this picture. I witnessed this surprise birthday party after work one day. Apparently she really likes Batman because she was raving about her Batman cake when he showed up. Whoever she is, I hope she doesn't mind having her face plastered on my blog.

Thus is life.

Life-iness

Dear friends,
 I have nothing of worth to post. But I feel the need to post and keep you all updated on my life. I went and saw a ballet this weekend. Ballet isn't my thing I've decided. Don't get me wrong, I love musicals and plays and dance performances. But I don't like the mix of story and dance in a ballet. I try too hard to look for a story and then get tired of the dancing. One or the other friends.
I saw a movie too. I pretty much crammed a whole weekend into one day. So now I am doing nothing. I'm waiting for my ipod to charge and deciding if it's too cold to go running outside. Why don't I have compression running pants? This would be less of a debate if I had some. No, instead I'm silly and only own running shorts. I would wear a sweat shirt, but it's not my arms that get cold its my legs. And I refuse to run in my sweatpants, it looks completely ridiculous and I hate the feel of all that fabric swishing around. So run or not? I'm not really sure.

Mother Nature

I have decided that part of being a woman is having mood swings. It doesn't matter what my hormones are doing, my mood seems totally separate. For example. The other day I was walking home in the bitter, bitter cold (I never get used to winter. It's so cold!). I had reached the point of numbness where even my brain was numb and was repeating an endless loop of "I hate the freakin' cold. I hate the freakin' cold." I was angry it was cold. I don't know about you, but I find that strange. It's not like Mother Nature had a personal vendetta against me. She isn't sitting up in her little rainbow cloud rubbing her hands together saying "ooo, look, there's a college student. Let's see if I can drop the temperature and make it even windier so she'll be frozen stiff when she gets home. That sounds like fun!"
I think not.
I expect that if Mother Nature were real she would be much more like the friendly, bouncy woman in that old Christmas movie with Rudolph and such characters. You know the one, every one's seen those old puppet movies.

But then a few days later I was practically dancing as I walked home. Actually, I think I did dance a bit. It's not like spring suddenly appeared or I won the lottery. I was randomly jovial. I have no explanation except for hormones. I hadn't changed any part of my daily routine, I hadn't gotten more sleep or eaten healthier. It's a mystery.
I've also decided spell check is a very good thing. I'm not the strongest speller so it's a life saver. And wearing all black doesn't automatically make you look cool. Or ninja like. In any way. I actually looked at myself in a mirror while wearing my work uniform (fast food. gross.) and I was unable to control the grimace that followed. I had always been so good at not looking in the full-length mirror in the locker room. Unfortunately my eye slipped and I saw the atrocity that was my clothing. I think it goes without saying that I walked away very quickly. Very quickly.

The Keys incident

The other day I was walking home from school. This is a fairly regular thing for me to do, especially since I have moved my bike for the winter. Anyways, I was walking home and noticed these three guys who were picking up soaking wet leaves of the even wetter grass and putting them in bags. Knowing college boys, it was totally for a prank. As I watched one boy threw the keys to the other. In a gliding, very high arc they aimed directly for the second boy. And then, because nothing ever goes smoothly, they got stuck in the tree. All four of us stared in a moment of dumbfounded amazement. How had this happened? The probability was so small.
The guy who threw the keys noticed me. I smiled and waved.
"Good luck!"
The friends turned and noticed me. I kept walking. I was cold, and I wanted my hot chocolate. And in my boots there was no way I could help them get the keys anyways. I'd be more of a hinder than a help, especially since the keys were not even remotely close to the trunk. There was no hope of simply climbing the tree and grabbing them.
My only regret is that I did not stay to watch. I am curious as to how they got their keys out of the tree.

My Weekend

I am King. I rule the pizza making world. I worked myself sick. To all of those who did Dance Sport, or the Boy Scouts Pow-Wow, or came to campus as part of their college football watching experience, you are welcome. I made you pizzas, calzones, and sides at an incredible pace in my tiny little store. At least 300 pizzas and calzones. And then sides several times. My coworker casheried like a crazy woman and I ran around our little 6x24 (I'm totally guessing) store like there was no tomorrow.
And now I am sick. Hopefully no one gets sick from me. It's not a cold, more a I-feel-really-gross-and-have-a-stupid-headache kind of sick. So I think my pizza lovin' friends are safe. Now I just have to get better. The semester is so close to being over I can taste it. I would really like to finish in one piece.

My bike ate my shoe

I'm not exaggerating when I say my bike ate my shoe. It's the litteral truth. Half-litteral. Since my bike isn't alive and doesn't have a mouth or stomach. I was biking home the other day and my shoe got suddenly tight. I looked down and to my dismay my laces were wrapped around the pedal. My shoe has very long laces. I was tempted to stop but since I was in the middle of crossing a street I said to my self "ah, better not" and kept biking. Well my shoe got much tighter. So tight in fact I was a little worried for the safety of my foot. And then I simaltaniously heard and felt my shoe begin to rip. It was immedately much looser, but my stomach sank. I crossed the road and untangled myself and finished going home. When I walked away from my bike my shoe almost fell off my foot. This is what it looked like (sorry for the poor quality).

As you can see, one side of my shoe the lace hole thingies are totally ripped out. So now this pair of shoes are in the trashcan. It's a shame, they were my favorite shoes. Very comfy and matched everything. Oh well. I'll be wearing boots for the rest of the year anyways, apparently it's snowing outside. Everyone keeps walking into the library with snow on their shoulders and hair. I would have been okay if it had waited until after Halloween to snow.

 

The weekend has arrived

It is officially the weekend. I have taken my tests, gone to my classes and not started my homework for Monday. You know what the best part of the weekend is though? I don't work this Saturday. This means I get to sleep in. This almost never happens. I am up by 7:30 almost every day, including Sundays. I have been counting down the mornings until Saturday. I live for sleeping in. (Not really.)

Earlier this week while I was sitting outside on campus I saw one of the cutest things of my entire life. This young family was sitting a few feet away and two little girls were being absolutely adorable. They were running around all the college students and would pat one on the leg before running away crying "your it!" Of course the college students were either oblivious or ignoring (I choose to believe they were all oblivious) the girls and kept going. The girls were so confused by this! It was sweet to watch, I almost wanted to join in. I probably would have if 1) that would have probably freaked mom and dad out a bit 2) I was eating for the first time in too many hours 3) I had class in two minutes. But it was still cute. I should have taken a picture.

Of men and facial hair

My campus is a unique one in that it has a dress and grooming code. Basically, the idea is to look clean and to not dye your hair colors of the rainbow. Or, if you are a man, grow a beard. Ten years ago this would not have been much of an issue for guys. But right now the scruffy look is in. Example below:

jeffreyandersen.wordpress.com/

It fits right in with the bad-guy-but-not-really look. But because of the no beards policy, the guys seem to feel they need to defend their manliness and grow mustaches. There is only one problem with this. Actually, I lied. There are several. I promise to not list them all.

White guys can't grow good mustaches. It ends up looking like puberty peach fuzz half of the time, while the other half of the time it transforms a twenty-something year old into a forty-year old.
Like the other day, I saw the cutest boy on campus. Blonde hair, tall, well dressed, leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Somehow the messenger bag is important. Don't ask me why. And then I noticed this blonde, old man-style mustache. It just didn't work. It saddened me.

I recognize my bias here. I don't like mustaches, this is just how it works. But I am not alone in this. I have had several conversation on the subject.
"Mustaches."
"Imagine kissing."
"I wonder if it tickles?"
"Probably itches."
(contemplating pause)
"I am never marrying a guy with a mustache."
"Me either. He has to shave it off. Even in the winter"
"Agreed."

So dear, beloved boys of campus. Clean shaven really is best.

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