The un-MEN-tionable

I got a big ol bone to pick, y'all. I'm as fed up as a bear in summer, and I'm so wool-gatherin angry, I could just throw a hissy fit right this very minute!
Ugh.
Now, let me just start off by saying that I'm a very nice person in general, I mean I try my best to give people directions, and I swipe people in at late night, and I even recycle most of the time. So, this leads me to believe that karma is a thing that does not exist in the world, nor does any conception of justice, for how else could such a bright, upstanding citizen like me constantly be getting the short end of the stick in the one walk of life that shouldn't be an issue? In other words, why the flaming flapdoodle do boys keep developing crushes on me? It got real old real fast when it first started happening, and it's even older now. I mean, come on now, fellas, get your collective act together. There are illimitably many pretty lasses in the world, none of whom are me, and they might be a tick more flattered by your amorous intentions than this grumpy old scouser. Give it a try! Or maybe actually don't, because some of y'all are quite irritating, and I wouldn't want to burden any other woman with the nuisance of dealing with all that.
Dear me, you may be saying to yourself, this girl has quite an ego problem! And I don't blame you for that. Read out of context, this post might indeed hint at a bit of megalomania on my part, and it would not be amiss for you to call it out, if it were unsubstantiated by anything but the most empirical evidence. However, you can save yourself the bother of creating a scathing and witty rebuttal of my claim, because that empirical evidence, I do have. Listen to my sad tale and weep, oh children of doubt.
There is a young man in my hall, whom I will not name, but will refer to as Darnay, partially because of his irritatingly bland nature, and partially because it includes the word "darn," and I'll be darned if I go out with him. Anyway! So Darnay is in Irene's physics class, and for this reason, when he sees us together, he will say hi. This is all fine and dandy, I mean I'm not such a misanthrope as to disapprove of a friendly greeting or two, but unfortunately, Darnay did not leave it at that. Oh no, not him. Not only did he ask Irene about me many times, thus betraying one of his many irritating traits of unencouraged persistence, but he actually had the temerity to track me down when I was all by my lonesome, vainly looking for a lounge from which I was eight floors away, and getting my number! Well my dear, you might be saying, isn't it your own fault for giving it to him? Yes, it is true, I did make a mistake there. But I could not have possibly foretold the comedy of errors that would follow!
(Yes I could have; it's happened to me countless times before. But that's neither here nor there.)
So, without further ado, young Darnay began texting me with alarming alacrity. If only all realities of life could be governed by the cold splendor of science! But sadly, though the rate and time of his texting increased to an unreasonable degree, the distance between us failed to grow any bigger. In fact, I feel it closing in in an unpleasantly claustrophobic way. On the very first day he texted me, he asked me to dinner, in no uncertain terms. Make no bones about it, the pugnacious little pustule was asking me on a date. So I suggested breakfast instead, thinking that there was no possible way for him to screw that up. But oh, the folly of man! Not only did he spend the entire uncomfortable period staring deeply into my eyes and behaving like the most embarrassing of bad dates, he also made me late for my class, and gave me bad directions to boot. The only thing I can be grateful for is that no one saw us together. It is no wonder that after this debacle, I wouldn't want to go anywhere with him again, and I thought I made this abundantly obvious. But I hadn't accounted for his cursed tenacity. Not only does he continue to text me unabashedly, he also continues to ask me to things with him, all of which I turn down politely but firmly (despite his many protestations). In fact, not five minutes ago, I turned him down to go to a play tonight (which is unfortunate, because I sort of would like to see it, but there is no way I can now). This is simply a disaster! If only Cute Sean from semantics would pay me half this attention, now, that would be a different layer of the cake entirely. That boy is so charming, let me tell you. He could have dinner with me any day. But I fear our romance is not to be, not only because he is an adorkable nerd who can't tell that I'm flirting with him, but also because he seems to show a sad lack of dedication to the field of semantics, and really, that just puts a damper on matters. But what was I saying? Oh yes. Darnay is stressing me out to the extreme. It's going to give me the gout. How do I get rid of him politely? I fear there is no polite way. Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward! I fear there is no comfort for me.

Today is a disgrace

My head hurts, my wifi sucks, I failed my first cognitive science midterm and now I have to change my entire academic plan, I haven't done any reading, I can't find my semantics assignment, I have a crush on someone in each of my classes, I'm randomly in pain and I don't know why, there's a horde of hideously noisy people outside my door, and I'm contemplating te ramifications of death on campus. In short, everything is horrible.

Okay, so to be fair, I didn't exactly fail my midterm, I got a C (which is actually kind of like a B, because no one got higher than a 91). But to me, that's failing, especially when I was going to minor in it. So. Now I have to drop the idea of a cogsci minor, which sucks, because I was super excited about it. And now that I think of it, since I didn't do well here, I probably won't do well in any other computing type classes. I might as well just be an anthropology major for how useless I am. I'm like the Aarron Burr of life- everything I do is wrong.

OH MY GOSH SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP. Why does Sadie have the worst laugh ever? Why are freshmen so loud? Why am I so mean right now? I don't know, but I can't deal with this amount of hideousness right now. Also, typing on this keyboard is a nightmare. Either my thumbs are abnormally spatulated and huge, or the developers of this app severely underestimated the necessary sensitivity of the keys, because every other word I type looks like the brand name of a pharmaceutical drug. I hate to say it, but I might do better with an Android.

You know, I have never heard a donkey bray, but I feel certain that if I did, I would recognize it immediately, thanks to my exposure to the phonological niceties of Sadie's laugh. Similarly, if I were to open up a goat farm, the neighing would not be a new sound to me, for I have heard Sarah's strident commentary on life for many a day, and that is all I need to prepare my ears for the farmer's raucous life. I'm actually despairing right now. They are SO LOUD, and I think the number of people is increasing every minute. I hear about five separate voices out there right now, but that's bound to change as soon as the rest of Westwood gets the word that there's a rager going on in the 8th floor of my residence hall. I must say, it does seem like this is a night to remember (or maybe not remember, depending on the substances imbibed). History is being made right here, right outside my door. Perhaps a new fraternity will be formed tonight. They could call themselves Skid Ro, since if they stay there any longer, I'm going to expect some cheap rental housing to go up. I'm going to cry. Why are people so inconsiderate? There's a perfectly good lounge right down the hallway, and if that's full, there are twenty other places to go that AREN'T HERE. Please go away, please. I'm in a bad enough mood already. 

Sucks how sad and anxious I can for the littlest reason. Or, well, this reason doesn't seem little to me. But in the grand scheme of things, it really is. So. How can it be that three vibrant and beautiful people can be killed in Chapel Hill, and vacuous, ineffective, mean spirited me is still alive and well? It's not fair. Not that I really want to be dead (not really), but it's horrible to think about the inequity here. I think I'm trivializing this tragedy by making it about me, so I'm going to stop. Anyway, I'm in pain all over, from my head to my, well, head, and everything sucks, so I'm going to play Trivia Crack until I fall asleep. Which probably won't happen, because of my oh-so-fun insomniac tendencies. But what else can I do? Okay, goodnight.

UGH

Happy February! I should be studying for my midterm tomorrow, but I feel so completely irritated that I can't do it. Also, it's for Ling 1, and that's none too hard. Although if I get anything less than an A, I'll feel shame forever (I'm not being persnickety, or maybe I am, but it's with good reason, because this class is so entry-level that it's not even a requirement for ling majors). I just can't bring myself to study! Like, there's something so daunting about reviewing what a morpheme is for the five hundredth time. I don't want to do it. AND OH MY HECK I CAN'T WITH SADIE. She's sitting over in her chair literally grunting about every ten seconds, like what on earth is that for? And when she's not doing that, she's making other inhuman noises. I guess I should be glad that she finally finished eating the most noisome pistachio nuts in the world, but it's a little hard to see the joy in life at this juncture. Also, I want to go to bed, but then she'll feel obligated to turn the lights off, and I feel weird about sleeping when she's awake, because her judgement is palpable. But if I don't, I'll have trouble waking up tomorrow (even more than usual, I mean). Also, my ear hurts. And my elbow. And I feel totally fat today. And my enrollment appointment is probably going to be at a bad time, so all the spots for the programming class I need (first of the series) will be taken. And why won't they put up the listings for Semantics 2 and Syntax 2 already? Usually, I like planning schedules, it's kind of a way to destress, but right now it's making me even more irritated. You know what, I'm tired, and I can't take any more bodily noises, so I'm going to bed, and Sadie can judge her heart out. At least then I can have my GPA to comfort me.

I was watching Les Mis, and let me tell you, it made me les miserable. IT'S SO SAD. Like seriously, don't you think some of the deaths were a little gratuitous? Like Eponine's? And Enjolras's? AND FLIPPING GAVROCHE OH MY GOODNESS. Victor Hugo was an evil, evil man. Yes, I appreciate the plot, and no, the romanticism is not lost on me (this is me you're talking to), but why why why couldn't you just let them live? Kill off some of the other characters, that's okay, but leave my babies to live their lives in peace! Like, okay, Enjolras is saddened but not embittered by the loss if his friends, and goes on to hold a place in government to help maintain the country he loves, and Eponine decides that she likes being free of stupid Marius and lives a wonderful and happy life, almost exactly like Simone de Beauvoir's, and Gavroche grows up to be a passionate young college student like the rest of them, and everyone stays friends, and they all make enough money to buy many loaves of bread for Jean Valjean, who becomes mayor again and develops a budding frenemy-ship with Javert, who takes a philosophy class from Eponine and becomes less prescriptive in his views. And I guess Cosette and Marius can get married or whatever, but you know to be perfectly honest, I don't really care about either of them. They're just not dynamic, in fact they're kind of downright Shakespearean! Or like Lucie Manette and Charles Darnay from A Tale of Two Cities. Just kind of boring, even if they do have some of the loveliest duets. Oh man. Okay, that's what happened. I'm calling it; it's canon now. Victor Hugo contacted me from beyond the grave and said that if he had been less obsessed with the mortality of man, he would have used his considerable literary genius to create a meaningful work that was still happy (or at least, you know, not soul-crushingly sad). Oh my goodness, do I cry. I'm not saying it's not fairly cathartic and all, but it's just too much for my poor little heart to handle. Girl, I'm telling you, Enjolras replies "French Revolution" when asked the ubiquitous "who's there," and he loves France so much, and he's so attractive, and ugggh how could anyone kill him off? I'm in denial, and nothing will change my mind. 

This has nothing to do with anything (well, it really does; that was a little too much of a contradictory idiom for me), but I think I'm dying. At a quicker rate than I should be, I mean. You see, I forgot my medication at home last weekend, and I thought it would be okay to not take it for a few days, but now I'm extremely dizzy all the time, and my tummy hurts, and I feel like I have a fever. Walking around is difficult, because I feel like I'm about to pass out, and as for bending over and straightening up quickly, forget it. Frankly, I'm surprised that I managed to make it to my classes and back today. Tomorrow, I have to lead the discussion with my group in honors, so not only do I have to go to class, I have to participate actively, and I have to look cute while doing it. Actually, that last part is motivation, but it does add a level of worry at the same time, because what if I look disgusting and Cute Arthur hates me forever because of my Gollum-like physiognomy? What if I mess up my eyeliner and everyone spends the entire class period making bad jokes about wings? What if my hair gets so floofy that I hit someone in the face and permanently injure them? There are many factors about which I can be concerened here. Should I skip semantics tomorrow? It's true that out of all my (extremely wonderful) classes, that's the one I least want to skip, but maybe I should conserve my energy. No, but I shouldn't do that, since we have homework due. And I might not go to discussion on Friday, so I best be getting into gear here. I can do this! I'll get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow and eat breakfast (not just coffee!) and study a little, and take it easy. It will be A-okay. And if not, and I really do pass out, I can take comfort in the fact that maybe Cute Sean will be gallant and drive me to the hospital and we can have a Bonding Moment and all will go from there. That's sort of comforting, although tbh, I'd rather finish learning about semantics. But maybe I can have both. What if life but a dream anyway?

(I feel like I'm quoting something, but what is it?)

My skin is super dry right now. I just thought you should know.

Today, Michael gave me another poem. It's spectacularly bad too. What AM I going to do with that boy? Also, I feel like Sadie is jealous of this progression in our (purely platonic) relationship, and I'll be chuffed if I know why. Is there something appealing about having people continually hitting on you? Well, okay, maybe in the abstract. But not in actuality! This state and the slight advantage that it brings resides completely in the theoretical, and I feel like she should know that, since she is definitely much more social than I am (and a year older as well). But who knows. 

I should probably be getting off to sleep now, since tomorrow is coming bright and early. The only problem is that I don't want to, and as we all know, the will is the battle (that sounded really good, didn't it? I made it up myself, thank you everyone). Then again, I don't really want to do anything, so I suppose I can try to convince myself that this is just as good as anything else. Maybe it will work. All I know is that I must try. 

Goodnight!

men are butts

I just watched the cutest episode ever of the X-Files, aww. But now it's almost 2, so I really shouldn't watch another one. But it was so cute, man. The struggle is real.
Okay, so you know what other struggle I have though? This is super bad. So, about a week ago, I was just minding my own business, when little Eric asked if I wanted to go to dinner. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary, so I said sure, and asked who else was going. Oh dear, I shouldn't have done that. Little Eric, little hamster baby Eric, started to make a move on me. So, being the mature and elderly woman that I am, I didn't reply (I mean, I was going to see him in approximately fifteen minutes anyway; what's the fuss?). But this, too, was a mistake! When he and Michael and Cruz showed up, they talked to me, but little Eric, he did not. In fact, he kept conspicuously silent the entire evening. And then the next day, he bailed on dinner with Irene upon learning that I was going to be in attendance. Now if that's not something, I don't know what is. But that's not all, oh no! So, Michael, his roommate and dearly beloved friend, took this opportunity to make a move on me as well. Of course, I ain't here for that, but seriously man, why does this always have to happen to me? Do I release pheromones or something? Maybe there's such a thing as an Aphrodite Gene, and I have it. In the abstract, that's pretty cool, but pragmatically speaking, it's a little difficult to navigate, I mean it could lead to awkwardness and chaos and the launching of a thousand ships and all that. Arthur Symmons was wrong when he decried the anti-romanticism of the modern world– I'd say there are plenty of moths who are still willing to die at the flame of beauty. UGH. All I can say is, I'm glad Cruz has a girlfriend already, otherwise hallway encounters could potentially become even more damaging. Although, maybe things will take a turn for the better soon. The boys did stop by my room to ask if I wanted dinner (I'd already gone with Irene and Marissa though), and that was fairly civilized. But maybe they were looking for Sadie or something. Man, I dunno. I really hope dorm life isn't a microcosm of real life, because if it is, I'm in store for a calamitous future. Wait, hang on, I don't think I wrote about this before, but it's in the same category as these, and being the budding semanticist that I am, I must complete the set.
SO. There I was, sitting in my room, sick as all hell, and trying vainly to make sense of the ridiculous arguments espoused by the pseudo-Libertarians on tumblr, when Cesar decided to drop by. Now, I'm usually happy to see him, but I had tests soon, and I was so sick that I literally couldn't talk, so I was less than enthused about this development. And it turned out, I was right not to be. For dear Cesar tried to make a move on me, and the way he did it was so spectacularly ridiculous that I must share it for all future generations to enjoy. I will present it in the form of a teleplay.
Me: Oh yes, the economy, Lord of the Rings, linguistics, Shelley, Romanticism, lovely, very lovely! *insert at least three stupid puns*
Cesar: (doesn't say a word, just gazes at me wistfully)
Me: (feeling a little awkward at this juncture) So wanna hear a joke? Who's the cheesiest artist? Parmesan-ino! Haahahahaha
Cesar: (melancholically) Yes...
Me: Well actually, Parmigianino is pretty cheesy, I mean like he's the epitome of Baroque art, and we all know that was like the precursor of Romanticism and stuff, and the antecedent of late Hellenistic art, so like you can't get away from that, ya know eehehe
Cesar: (gets all up and touchy-feely on me)
Me: (feeling still more awkward, and wishing to divert his attention) But, enough about me, why don't you tell me about your life? How's bae?
Cesar: You know... Me and her... we're not in a good spot right now...
Me: Oh no, I'm sorry! Do you want advice? I can give you advice.
Cesar: No, no. But you see, I have no morals, and... I'm kind of okay with that.
Me:
Cesar:
Me:
Cesar: So, I want to see... if I'm a bad kisser.
Me: (sits for a second while my brain processes this new information) WAIT WHAT NO WHAT WHAT THE HECKY CESAR NO (scoots away with the ubiquitous *hand means stop* gesture)
Cesar: But
Me: NO
(curtain)
And that's pretty much how it played out. Why does this have to happen? I really think something must be going wrong here, like I have all this attention that I don't want, and there are people who might appreciate it more, so can't we just sort of redistribute things? But that's kind of communist, isn't it. Oh dear. So, in the name of my beliefs and intellectual integrity, I have to put up with the advances of man? I think I do. Well, it will be hard, but it is my cross to bear, and I can do no other. Let them come; I am not afraid.
Why me though, that's the question.
You know, I feel like I might wake Sadie up with my typing, so I should probably stop. I don't want her to throw things at me, or worse, wake me up tomorrow morning in retaliation. Also, I have my cog sci class at 11 tomorrow, and that's grievously early, so I should probably sleep. Goodnight!

It's actually late, guys

To the Very Loud people in the hall: it's 3AM. If you're not me and can make decent life choices, you should be asleep. Actually, even if you make mediocre life choices, you should be asleep. GO TO SLEEP. Let me enjoy my insomniac tendencies in peace, you noodles. Sheesh. 

2015!

Happy New Year! Also happy birthday to me; I'm 20 now (or rather, I've been for a little bit). So old! There have been countless rulers throughout the course of history who have lived and died younger than I, and even now, there are many people who have their lives all together and are doing impressive and wonderful things and whom I would fear to meet because of their accomplishments. Meanwhile, just a few days ago, I got lost in YRL for the fifth consecutive time. Oh dear me, I'm not in any way ready for the pressures and burdens of adulthood! It's not that I don't look forward eagerly to filing my tax returns in color-coded boxes, but really, there's so much at stake here. Now, instead of merely floating around advising people on stocks, I have to actually take charge of some myself, and that's frightening. I'd really rather be absolved of responsibility, and just observe things intellectually from afar. Isn't that just much more satisfying to everyone all around?
Also, my hair is falling out. I think this must be proof that I've well and truly reached an advanced age that can never be reclaimed. If only I could find some nice artist to paint a portrait of me that would age for me, and that I could conveniently ensconce in my attic! Sometimes I really think the good people in the Romantic era led much simpler lives.
I really need to go to bed, what am I doing up? Man, this is terrible. But then again, what else is a three-day weekend for, if not late-night Netflix binges? Not studying, that's for sure! Pssh, what do I look like, a nerd? No, but actually, I think I will read some semantics stuff tomorrow, because there's not a word there that doesn't bring abject and utter joy to my heart. And possibly I should read some of my regular linguistics book too, even though I know it all already. There might be something I don't know, after all. And that's what's so exciting about learning! There's always something new. If you think about it in a discouraging way, it's sad that you can never learn everything, but if you have a more positive view, it's wonderful and cool! So I think maybe I should prescribe to that viewpoint if I can, since it's (usually) more cheering to see the world through slightly rose-colored lenses. What am I going off on now? Two years of college, and I'm already a philosopher.
Oh, did I mention, I wanted to do a philosophy minor? But I think Cognitive Science has more classes that overlap with linguistics, so I'll probably do that. But still though, I would love to be able to take all those lovely symbol philosophy and mathematical logic courses. I would have such an amazing time, I'm telling you. Forget therapy; lambda calculus is the only panacea the world needs. Hopefully, semantics will go that route soon. Let's go!
Actually though, I should go. To bed, I mean. I have the vague sort of idea that sleeping after 4 AM is deleterious, but I'm not sure where I came by this information, or indeed how accurate it is. Maybe it's actually good to sleep with the dawn, who knows? But I'll subscribe to the mores of society and go to bed now. What else could one expect from a mature 20-year-old, after all?