Shots of me, on the rocks or with a twist

Interior design

2010-06-20T14:34:00.003-04:00

I've been looking at home decorating websites a lot lately, considering the potential of my apartment. I've been thinking about the way I'd like to have things, and about how great I could make everything in my apartment, everything in my life, great, if I just had a little more money.
Hence, my boyfriend is moving in. We'll split the rent and most of the bills (electric, water, tv) and we'll both have more money as a result. As a bonus, we'll get to spend more time together.
A great idea, right?
Except now it's not me and him both saving money, it's "us" saving money.
We had a conversation a couple of weeks ago about me wanting to take a vacation and him wanting to put money away in savings. Then he said something to the effect of "I want us to be able to save some money so that..." Insert whatever cliche reason for saving money here.
But I don't want my money to be "our" money.
And then it hit me: my apartment, my room, my books, my tv, ....isn't going to be mine anymore.
And just now, I noticed how lovely my apartment is.
My small-by-most-standards, not-flatscreen tv sits on a sidetable turned sideways. My coffee table -- the one that was in my childhood home which I painted black in college because I had a black couch back then -- no longer matches anything else in my living room. My dark brown dining room table only has three of its original four chairs left because one of my friends accidentally broke one during a party I threw one New Year's Eve that got more than a little out of hand.
And there are the two picture frames that serve as a centerpiece on my mantel; they still say "pottery barn" in the center because I haven't yet decided what best goes there.
Everything imperfect in my apartment now seems to be the things that give it character.
It's pieced together, and it works because it's mine. It's me.
But soon -- by July 8th -- none of it will be mine anymore. It will all be "ours."
I'm afraid of that.

It's been a while

2010-06-02T02:31:00.002-04:00

...to say the least. Here it is, 2:31 in the morning and I've navigated my way back to my old blog after a two-ish year hiatus.

And what's changed, after all this time? A lot. But then, it turns out I'm still a 20-something who's overly attached to her goose-down comforter and I still hate onions.

Because I haven't written in so long, I think it's safe to say any of the regular readers I once had (if there were any), have long since given up hope for new posts. That's fine though. Not sure, at this point if I even want anyone to read my ramblings.

My birthday is tomorrow (Thursday). I'll be 25.

I used to think that by the time I was 25 I'd be really important. I'm not. That's a little disappointing. Maybe by the time I'm 30. Perhaps I should formulate a 5-year plan.

I'm going to wrap things up, since I've gotten some typing out of my system now. Unlike previous points in my (blogging) history, I'm not going to promise to do better, to post more. Frankly, I'm not sure I even want to make a comeback, so to speak. But I'll leave the door open.

Enough

2008-01-27T16:09:00.000-05:00

I was just reading an excerpt from "How tough could it be?," a book by Sports Illustrated writer Austin Murphy. He took a six month sabbatical from work because he was spending his life writing about others' and he was missing his childrens' childhood.

I got a glimpse of the life that I think I want, globetrotting on the heels of the greatest in sports, observing their magnificence and then recounting it for the rest of the world that wasn't so fortunate to see it in person.

I want it, and that's all I want.
But I'm 22, impulsive, and I'm fickle.
I don't know else what I'll want in five minutes, much less what I'll want in five or ten years.

I'm beginning to see that the career I want isn't type of profession that affords the ability to keep a relationship very easily, or a family.

And those are things that I'm just fine without...now. I don't ever want kids, and I'm hoping that it stays that way. I'm having a lot of fun being single, but I worry that, as I get old, being alone will too.

I need for a career to be enough; for single to be enough.

2007-12-28T17:52:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure if technically my title is "sports reporter" or "sports writer," but, in the past month and a half since my editor left, I've been doing very little reporting and writing.
I'm beginning to worry I'm going to get cataracts for staring at this stupid computer screen so long. Is that possible?
I miss watching games. Especially football, nowadays.
I miss writing.
Asked my editor yesterday whether he'd made any progress in filling the Sports Editor position that's now been vacant for a month and a half. He think he's picked one, which I had looked at his stuff (resume, clips, page design, etc) a few weeks ago, and it was good. BUT, he graduated from college in 2005, which means he's likely only two years my elder. I may end up having some difficulty taking direction from someone my age.
But frankly, at this point, I'm so tired of doing page layout that I don't care who they hire so long as I can start going to actually watch sports again.

Best July EVER.

2007-07-16T01:36:00.000-04:00

I'm having the best July ever, and it makes me a little sad because August just won't be the same because I'll be in New Bern, NC; instead of Boone, a place I have come to love-especially in the summer.

Things I've done this July:
-Sneaked into Grandfather Mountain Country Club to watch fireworks with Bissette, Meg, Ginny and Amanda
-Seen fireworks so bright you don't want to look directly at them
-Danced at The Library
-Watched the All-Star Game
-Run every single day.
-Lain out in the sunshine
-Made out.
-Purchased matching underwear with the girls--and we all wore them on the same night out.
-Played Edward 40-Hands and got a chance to hear a mom say, while on the phone "Oh yeah, I'm taping beer to my son's hands"
-Watched good movies and bad movies (The devil's rejects gets two thumbs down from me)
-Watched a friend take second in The Bear after getting wasted the night before (Ballin!!)
-Froze my ass off at Grandfather Mountain during The Bear
-Hiked
-Swam
-Played drunken soccer in the parking lot.
-Created an elaborate sidewalk chalk zoo with Ginny.
-Spent many nights with awesome people.
-Partied hard after the bear
-Partied hard for Kala's 21st birthday
-Taken inappropriate photos
-Won flip cup with the Apt. 66 girls (past, present and future) against all the NC State runners
-I have been in a house where every party-goer was singing Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their lungs.
-I have helped put "guyliner" on grown men because they wanted to be like Johnny Depp in Pirate's of the Caribbean.

Every day has been amazing. I'm going to be moving a six hour drive away, and I'm pretty upset about it. I'm trying to soak up as much of Boone and the people in it before I leave.

Silly girl, bike wrecks are for kids

2007-07-07T23:55:00.000-04:00

Traditionally, at my parents' house, after dinner is when the dogs go for a walk. Because I'd just eaten and didn't feel up to a run until after my food had digested (and also because Fly girl likes a faster pace than a walk), I decided to take her on the bicycle that sits in my parents' garage (a $300 bike that my dad purchased on a whim that gets less action than Gilbert Gottfried).

She'd done this before; accompanied me running while I biked. Usually it's successful. This time, not so much.

We get through half the neighborhood loop and start descending the hill to head back, when we see an oncoming car. Not a big deal because Fly's pretty good about staying 5 or more feet in front of me and on the right side of the road. This was no different except after the car passes she decides to check out the car that just passed and pulls a u-ie right in front of me. To avoid running over her, I squeeze the breaks hard and run over myself instead, flying over the handle-bars and into the pavement in front of me.

I know what you're thinking -- the bike is okay...and so is Fly.

Considering the severity of the crash, I came out minimally injured also: scrapes on my left shoulder, boob, knee, wrist, cheek and both hands. More substantially injured was my pride when the old lady in the Grand Am observing my spasticity asked me if I was okay.

I always thought bike wrecks were something that happened to little girls trying to hop pot-holes evil-knieval style (yes, true story, I did that too...and still have a scar on my chin as a result). Apparently bike wrecks also happen to lazy 22-year-olds trying to walk their dogs with minimal exertion on the part of the walker.

I'd also like to make note that the date 7-7-07--not so lucky.

Developments in my decision-making process

2007-06-29T01:24:00.001-04:00

As much as I didn't want to depend on my mother to help me make important decisions, I couldn't resist. After my hours of chart making and mathematical calculations of the Fishbein Model (see previous post) left me feeling no more certain of a choice than I'd been before, I resorted to calling mom.

When I got off the phone, I felt infinitely stupid that the right answer wasn't more obvious to me before.
"It sounds like your heart wants to take the internship, but your head is telling you to take the sports reporting position," she'd said.

True.

"It sounds like you're picturing yourself in Macon, but you can't really picture yourself in New Bern."

Also true.

So I tried to picture myself in New Bern, NC --a historic town on a river, populated by retirees and home to many a Nicholas Sparks novel, where local businesses still remain loyal to Pepsi, because it was born right in the middle of downtown. The newspaper covers local high school and ECU athletics. A 30 minute drive to a couple of beaches, maybe that would be enough of an incentive to keep some pigment in my Irish skin.

I would like for Fly to see the beach. I bet she would like to go and lie on it with me. Sunning herself is probably her favorite activity.

Even though there's not much to do there, maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

..and I've always liked Pepsi more than Coke.

On paper

2007-06-27T11:53:00.001-04:00

I have a decision to make. I've been offered two positions, one as an intern at a small Division I conference in Georgia, one as a sports writer for a 15,000 circulation daily newspaper in eastern NC.

I've made a lot of poor decisions in the past. Decisions based on faulty assumptions, decisions focused on the wrong premises, rash decisions that I wish I could take back. I suppose as a result, I'm itching to ask someone else their advice, but at the same time, I want to make this decision for myself I have a feeling that other people's advice won't help anyway.

In my consumer behavior class this past semester we discussed high-involvement purchases, things most people really think through when buying, like a car or a house. I remember being fascinated that the more research and thought that is put into this type of decision, the more likely the consumer is to be pleased with the product he ends up choosing...to a point, when that's no longer the case.

In thinking about this class, I recalled a behavioral-intention model, known as the Fishbein Attitude-Toward-the object model. Because I'm a nerd and keep all of my notebooks from all of my classes so that I can refer back at times like these, my Consumer Behavior notebook was readily available. I shuffled through the semester's notes to find the equation and soon I was developing the factors that played a role in my decision, assigning numbers of how important each was to me, and how each position measured up accordingly.

I found myself sabotoging my own results, hoping for the internship to end up being the better outcome, even though the job at the newspaper pays way more, includes benefits, and is better aligned with career goals that I've held for the past couple of years. Of course, the two hours of chart making and calculating left me just as confused as before, because I feel like I should choose the sportswriter position even though it appears that I want to take the internship.

Ultimately, there is good in both position, I suppose I'd be happy in either.

Dunno.

Answering questions

2007-06-25T20:35:00.000-04:00

I had a second phone interview with an NBA team this afternoon, for a communications internship position (which would deal with the media, update stats, that sort of thing). Amongst the questions regarding my future goals and what I had liked most or least about some of the things I've done in the past, I was asked a question I hadn't heard before.

"What do you think is an appropriate relationship for interns to have with players?" or something along those lines, to which I responded by babbling something about the importance of professionality and "conflicts of interest."

I'm betting they don't ask the males that they interview that question.

I wonder if they're interviewing a lot of females for this position, if they've had problems with player/intern relationships before or if they're just trying to avoid some Koby-esque scandal that would turn into a PR nightmare.

I was telling Ginny of this question that I hadn't been at all aticipating or prepared for, and we agreed that the proper response would have been. "I think it would be better to date all of the players and form personal opinions and biases about each one, get pregnant in the process and marry JJ Redick and take him for all he's worth."

Nah, I could never do that.
...he went to Duke and I have far too much Chapel Hill stuff for that to work out. Plus he hasn't been playing up to par since his days with Coach K and I wouldn't be seen with someone just mediocre...pffhhh

"Schoooool's out for EVAH!!"

2007-06-25T01:08:00.000-04:00

There are things that I will miss about my life in college, particularly my life this past year. Definitely, I'll miss the cliche reasons that adults always say make college "the best years of your life."

There are few financial burdens (at least there weren't for me, though I'm aware some people have to pay for their own tuition, expenses, etc; I was fortunate enough to have parents that paid for mine). There is always something to do--a party to go to, a million places to run and time in which to do it, new people around every corner to meet, free tickets to football games, tailgating before football games, watching your team win two national championships, free entrance to basketball games (and not having to wait in line hoping to score tickets), learning new things every day, being able to walk everywhere you needed to go, intramural teams, access to three gyms, a library with an endless supply of books, access to computer programs and electronic resources that others pay thousands for, someone almost always available to hang out with.

Even so, there are plenty of things I can't wait to get away from, and I wanted to make a list so that when I look back and reminicse, as I often do, and think to myself "I wish I could go back to college," I'll be able to remember more than just the good things, and remember that there were negatives to college life, too, and that might just help me to be happy in the moment a little more.

Things I won't miss about college/my current situation:
About School:
-Finding myself stressed out, almost to the point of physical sickness, during finals.
-Having a different time to have to wake up each day. The way I see it, it wouldn't be so hard to get up at 8 if I had to do it every day, therefore letting my body get used to it, but some days, I didn't have class until 11 and that made it near impossible to get up for class on the 8 a.m. days.
-Busywork.
-Professors that make you buy books that you don't end up using the entire semester.
-Having 10 minutes to make it across campus from Sanford to Walker, less than that if Dr. Chen kept talking after his allotted time, which was often
-Trying to decipher what the hell Dr. Chen was saying, whether it was in Spanish OR English
-Having a different time to have to wake up each day. The way I see it, it wouldn't be so hard to get up at 8 if I had to do it every day, therefore letting my body get used to it, but some days, I didn't have class until 11 and that made it near impossible to get up for class on the 8 a.m. days.

About Roommates and Sharing:
-Sharing a refrigorator: Drives me INSANE. There is never enough room in our fridge because half of the space is taken up by 1328947849 different sauces, 3/4 of which never get used. Once you finally make room for your groceries, you put them in the fridge and forget they're there because they get covered up or relocated to make room for other people's stuff, and you can't find it or don't remember it until it has gone stale or moldy. I hate to think about how much money on food I've wasted because of this phenomenon.
-Not only cleaning up messes that aren't mine, but watching the apartment get messy a day later because my roommates apparently don't care that I took hours to clean it. Double this problem concerning the bathroom.
-Sharing cookware, because it doesn't get cleaned well.
-Crickets: One of my roommates has a pet lizard that eats crickets. We have the constant noise of crickets chirping in our apartment, which I have got used to, more or less after about the second week I was here. However, they're constantly escaping. Once a cricket escaped and moved into the wall in the corner of my room and chirped every night for a week or two. I had nightmares and also, daymares about him mating and spawning thousands of crickets that would crawl all over me while I sleep. Every time I catch a cricket now, instead of putting him into face his death by digestion, I liberate him...and it makes me feel slightly less angry at my roommate because I'm constantly catching crickets...it feels like I'm somehow getting vengance. Sometimes I'll yell at my roommate and make her go catch them, if I'm feeling especially grouchy.
-The fact that one of my roommate somehow ends up with my shirts and then denies the fact that she has them until she decides that she no longer wants them and they magically appear in her room and she gives them back.
-The little things that you notice about people you spend too much time with that shouldn't piss you off but drive you nuts anyways: the fact that one of my roommates stands in the kitchen to eat all of her meals that usually consist of lettuce and mustard or the fact that she always wants a bite of any real food that you or the others have. Or that one makes differently pitched humming noises to comment about everything.
-Not being able to decorate exactly the way I want to.
-Comprimising on temperature of the thermostat.
-Not being able to have Fly with me
-The way the mats in the bathroom have wet footprints in them for hours because my roommate can't dry off before she steps out....grosses me out to step on it.

I'm sure you can tell from my list, that I'm not one of those people who is so great living with others. While I know this list may present my roommates in a bad light, I'm well aware that nobody is perfect, and most of the problems that I'm seeing are probably things that shouldn't bother me, but they do. I know, also that they could probably make lists of things they don't like about living with me--I'm pretty hard to live with too, I'm sure. They're good people, all of them.

The thing is, I'm selfish. It's why I don't want kids and it's also why I don't deal very well with roommates. I'm not sure I'm a good sharer. Scratch that. I share, I just don't want to and I harbor secret hatred when I have to. I like things my way. I don't like having to comprimise.

I'm aware that I'll never make a good wife with this kind of attitude. Good thing I don't want to get married.

Wanna know another thing I don't like to share?

My bed. Even though I only sleep on the right side.
Although, I make an exception for the Fly girl. For whatever reason, I can share my stuff with her way easier than I can with anyone else.

Sweet Summertime

2007-06-22T13:43:00.000-04:00

An email to my friend the Blue ridge blogger, but I thought it might be interesting to everyone else too, to see what I've been getting into.

Yes, I've finally gotten out of my I-don't-feel-like-blogging rut which lasted for months. So...a Natalie update: Aside from getting back to blogging, I've been looking for a real job *gasp*. Or rather, "career." It's a monotonous process and I've begun to think that I'd rather spend my days in line at the DMV than think about this mess anymore. I've taken a tour of the Southeast during my hunt, going to the other end of NC, B.F.E. in South Carolina and Atlanta and Macon, GA.

Currently in my process, I have an offer on the table from (insert name of certain NCAA Conference Here) , which I would love to take if it weren't for the fact that I'm not sure I could survive without dancing for dollars on the side...and you know, I'm not really that into fishnets.

I just interviewed for a sports writing position in New Bern, NC also..still waiting to hear back from that. Have a second phone-interview with (insert NBA team here) on Monday for a communications internship, though the financial situation would be pretty grim there also. I just did a phone interview with a paper in Seneca, SC. AND, on a whim, I also applied for a program with the CIA that would lead to a secret-agent position. I could tell you more, but I'd have to kill you and then I'd have no pictures of the high country to admire when I'm off wherever I end up.

Recreationally, I've been doing a lot of lying out in my parking lot, running, hanging out with my roommates and the other current/ex-track runners that also live at my complex, going swimming, decorating the parking lot with sidewalk chalk (yesterday we created the ultimate hopscotch that snakes around the parking lot, with 72 squares total), reading (I highly reccommend Rick Reilly's "Hate Mail from Cheerleaders"--) and being all around useless to society. I always look forward to summer, and this one is just as good as I imagine it could get.

Returning to an old friend

2007-06-21T16:12:00.000-04:00

In a couple of hours I'm going to play.
I'm going to the track to pole vault with my college coach and I am fired up. It's been a long time since I can remember being excited about going to pole vault.

I expect it will be like it was in the beginning, before I knew how it was supposed to go, when I watched others doing it and said to myself, "that looks like fun." For a while, it was; before the pressure and politics that accompany serious athletics stepped in. Before I was any good at it, I suppose.

I don't expect to be good at it anymore, I've stayed away from the sport for a little over two years. While this is the longest amount of time I've been away from the sport since I started and can't say for certain, I don't think it's one of those things people would say is "a lot like riding a bike."

Undoubtedly, it isn't a sport that your muscles can pick back up on so easily. In the past, I'd taken a couple months off, and then jumped back into it with gusto, hoping to pick up where I had left off. The following couple of days, I reaped the benefits of throwing myself back into the ring without first warming up.

I am 97% sure that I may be somewhat incapacitated tomorrow.
Nevertheless, I'm stoked. Let's go play!

Beautiful.

2007-06-20T01:58:00.000-04:00

I wanted to see something beautiful, so I searched for it in my favorite engine, google. Among the artsy-fartsy drawings of trees and flowers and the photos of naked women, I found myself perusing the following website, profoundly moved by the beauty that I found within, hoping that one day, I too, would feel as they seem to.

http://themonkeycrew.typepad.com/beside_the_pointe/flickr_fun/index.html

:. : ..: :

2007-06-14T23:39:00.001-04:00

If I wasn't driving, I would have taken a picture.

I passed by the Georgia Academy for the Blind today. The fact that they have a board outside to update to give updates on the happenings in the blind community is a wonder to me in itself. But on this scrolling LCD screen, I read, "Today's word of the day is.." and then a series of seemingly randomly placed dots appeared.

Is braille taught by looking at the arrangement of the dots nowadays?

The school could make the braille word of the day be "shit" every day, and no one would ever be the wiser because 99.9% of the population that knows how to read braille is BLIND and they need to be able to touch it.

Love.

2007-06-12T23:40:00.000-04:00

I made one of these lists a while ago...and decided to do an update.

Fly. Hot chocolate even when it's not cold out. Shoes. Aldo. Chocolate Milk. Razzoo's stuffed Shrimp. Running when I'm feeling confused or angry or guilty or dumb or sad or insane. The Yankees. My overstuffed goose-down comforter. Lipgloss. My new grey nike running shorts. Sweatpants. Sea sponges. Chicken Lo-mein. Coffee with lots of cream and sugar. Mushrooms. The cold side of the pillow. Lemon-flavored toothpaste. Reading Rick Reilly's column. Cigar smoke. Mayfield Brown Cow ice-cream. Daydreaming. Knowing that I wrote something really clever. Towels just out of the dryer. Knowing that I am free to do whatever I want....almost. Being 21....well, 22, now, actually. Late night runs. Running in the rain. Running where no one can see me, so that I can run backwards or sideways or do cartwheels and know that no-one's looking at me and laughing. Racing Fly. Long Island. Long Island accents. Watching Derek Jeter play baseball. March madness. Summer. Makeup. High speed internet. Thunderstorms. Dancing. Speaking Spanish. Singing. My nose. Pajama shorts. Nappy. Memories of Grandma and me playing checkers and candyland and red light/green light. The way she called me "Deah" in her new england accent.

Favorites

2007-06-12T00:19:00.000-04:00

I'm very into noticing things about people...shortcuts to figuring them out without actually having to live with them, or know them for a long time.

For instance, I almost always wear a hair tie (at least one) on my wrist, and if it's not on my wrist, it's in my hair. The only time you'll catch me without it on my wrist is if I'm really trying to make an impression on someone. Because I've thought it through and decided that it doesn't look professional or cute; that it doesn't fit the persona of whoever I'm trying to be at that moment. Not that I've given these hair ties around my wrist a whole lot of thought in the past, but if you know this about me, you pretty much bet that can I'm trying to impress someone when there's not a black elastic around my right wrist or in my hair. Not that I would ever admit to that.

I was looking at my "favorites" list on my computer, of webpages I visit frequently...and decided that a person's bookmarked pages are a pretty telltale thing. What do mine say about me, I wondered.

1st of all, my home page is ESPN.com....it keeps me pretty up to date with things going on in the sports world...I make it a point to check Yankees scores, that sort of thing. Other items on my list.

*Gbehh ecards....they're the best e-cards I've ever seen
http://gbehh.com/cards/index_cards.html

*Appalachian's home page
*GoASU.com
*Stephanie Klein's Blog, "Greek Tragedy"
*This blog
*My old blog, which I like to look at from time to time to see how far I've come, or how little.
*Thesaurus.com
*A website on removing stains from fabrics
*The Facebook
*MLA Format guide
*The Yellow Pages
*You are beautiful

*Girlprops.com
*Random articles in my portfolio
*The Watauga Democrat
*booneweather.com
*Associated Press Sports Editors
*The Racial Slur Database
*APStylebook.com
*CoSida
*Pandora.com

I think you can really get a feel for who I am, just by looking at this list...I mean, just by looking at these websites, you can figure out that I live in Boone, I have written sports, that I like to write, b/c I've had two blogs-I have the APStylebook and thesaurus.com bookmarked. I like to read, I like accessories (girlprops.com--excellent accessories), you can figure out that I'm a student (or at least used to be--ASU websites, MLA format)

Some thoughts on recent basketball game attendance

2007-02-01T05:44:00.000-05:00

This may or may not be published in coming editions of The Watauga Democrat. I'm not sure, but I wrote it, and wanted it to be available for the world to see.

For a college basketball fan, our state is a great place to grow up. At a young age, we can readily identify our favorite shade of blue, often before learning the rest of the primary colors. Or, if you were the kind of kid who proudly displayed your “individuality” by sporting a Michael Jackson “Thriller” jacket, you might have been an N.C. State fan.
North Carolina as a state is a college basketball powerhouse. The Tarheels and the Blue Devils are mainstays in the NCAA tournament, making trips to the big dance as often as that college guy who took your daughter to her high school prom last year – he might as well buy the tux, it’s not economical to keep renting in the long-run. Teams like N.C. State, Wake Forest, UNC-Charlotte and Davidson are often found in the mix come March Madness time, as well.
This year, the Mountaineers are fighting for a share of the college basketball fans. Many of these fans have allegiances to other North Carolina teams stemming back to early childhood, and would rather stay at home watching the Carolina game on television instead of making a trip to the Holmes Center to see the Mountaineers play live. This type of loyalty is not easy to break and up until this year, Appalachian basketball has given fans little reason to do so.
But this year is different. Living in the shadow of a national championship football program and other North Carolina basketball teams, the ASU men’s basketball program has put a team together that is good on some days, fantastic on others. Appalachian has only been to the NCAA Tournament twice in the 88 years the program has existed; the last time was in 2000. This year’s team has given reason to believe we might see a third trip this March.
A truly exciting team to watch, it stupefies me to still see empty front-row seats at the Holmes Center come game time, especially considering the above-capacity attendance that Kidd-Brewer Stadium boasts during football season.
The Mountaineers are currently 17-5 overall, 9-2 in the Southern Conference, with wins over big-name teams, one of which is Top-25 ranked by the AP (No. 23 Vanderbilt). Even so, no game is a “gimme” for Appalachian – I present the home loss to Elon (5-15, 3-7 SoCon) as Exhibit A.
One of the things that makes this team so great to watch is their unpredictability. The team has so much depth that coach Houston Fancher can almost pull names out of a hat to choose his starting five and feel comfortable with his chances.
If Nate Cranford is hitting his 3-pointer, your odds, as a fan, of snagging a Ray’s Weather 3-point-tee increase dramatically. If not, Kellen Brand and Eddie Bermudez are waiting on the sidelines to provide some offense. Demetrius Scott is probably already on the court, working out the problem. Ryann Abraham is getting the hang of replacing D.J. Thompson at point guard, and while he’s not as quick, he sees the court well and gives Thompson the breaks he needs from spearheading the run-and-gun type of game that Appalachian plays.
There are a number of players you could find in the paint come crunch-time. Davis Bowne, Donte Minter, Jeremy Clayton and Doug McLaughlin-Williams each saw more than 10 minutes of playing time in Monday’s win over College of Charleston. Clayton has had several huge dunks this year, giving the Apps a boost when they needed it. When the score is close and the Mountaineers need a basket, Minter has been the go-to guy, making it look easy.
Think back, my fellow basketball fans, how many times have you heard that deep voice asking, “What is it that binds us to this place, as to no other?” The answer is probably more than you can count.
Carolina and Duke are, once again, Top 25 teams, easily encouraging bandwagon jumpers of all ages to make a move. But before you turn on the television to watch the next Carolina game, check to make sure Appalachian isn’t playing at the Holmes Center. They are a team to get behind this year, they need your support and they’ve earned it.

ALSO: It's officially been 1 month that I have been soda and fast-food free...hooray for me!

Resolutions and greek tragedies

2007-01-28T02:10:00.000-05:00

Some people think that New Year's resolutions are made to be broken. If that is true, I'm nearly a third of the way there. I haven't written every day like I'd promised myself I would. It makes me wonder how I'm able to keep any sort of promises to anyone else if I can't keep promises I make to myself. I'm pretty good about keeping promises to others though. I like to think so, at least.

I have kept two of the other New Year's promises I made to myself, though; those being, not eating fast food or drinking soda. When I make these blind vows of purity, I always have the belief that I can really make good on them. But when it comes down to it, I realize I'm just the doomed protagonist of my own personal greek tragedy. My Achilles heel is the belief that I’m as powerful as I want to be, and if I put my heart into it, I can do just about anything.

Excuses come up, and it’s not as easy as I planned. There’s not enough time in the day, I’m too busy to write, I’m sick to my stomach and mom always recommends ginger-ale for that; does it count if it’s diet? and I just want a Cookout corndog so bad.

I make these resolutions every day, not only when the end of each year rolls around. As I go to bed, I look forward to the next day, my chance at redemption. “Tomorrow,” I think to myself, “I’ll be perfect. If just for the day; then that’s something to build on.”

When tomorrow comes, I turn off my alarm clock before I’m awake enough to give it a second thought, and while I fall back asleep under an oversized and overcomfortable comforter, I miss my first class and my chance at perfection.

I wake up in time for the others and settle for “good enough” for the rest of the day. Sometimes “good enough” is better than others.

At the end of the day, I set a couple more alarms for tomorrow. One of them gives me enough time to wake up and go for a morning run, a la Rocky Balboa, which would keep me on the track to perfection. Another will give me time to get a shower and catch SportsCenter before my first class, yet another will give just enough time to throw my hair in a ponytail, grab my stuff and go.

Those two are just different degrees of “good enough.”
But at the end of the day, it’s not, is it? If I still want perfection, “good enough” isn’t.

Even so, I like to think, as my tragic flaw would have me believe, that maybe "good enough" isn't a waste, and that even though maybe I could have done some things better, maybe I'm making progress. After all...I haven't had soda or fast food in 27 days and counting. I won't say it's good enough.

I'll say it's a start.

I like these...

2007-01-11T15:54:00.000-05:00

LAST PERSON WHO
1. Slept in your bed besides you? Meg, when she passed out there and I came in to find her in my bed in the middle of the night
2. Saw you cry: Not sure.
3. Went to the movies with you? Leslie
4. You went to the mall with? Mom
5. You went to dinner with? The Apt. 66 girls
6. You talked to on the phone? Mom probably
7. Said 'I love you' to you and really meant it? Mom
8. Broke your heart? Probably Josh....forever ago
9. Made you laugh? Olivia

WOULD YOU RATHER?
1. Pierce your nose or tongue? Neither
2. Be serious or be funny? Funny
3. Drink whole or skim milk? 2%
4. Die in a fire or drown? Die drowning with the water on fire...you know like if it had oil spilt on top and the oil was on fire...at least that'd be a good story to tell people in the afterlife
5. Spend time with your parents or enemies? Tough call....I don't really have any enemies, so I'll pick them.

ARE YOU..
1. Simple or complicated? Simplicated.
2. Gay? No
3. Hardcore? I like to pretend I am

DO YOU PREFER. .
1. Flowers or candy? Flowers
2. Grey or black? Black
3. Color or Black and white photos? Depends on the photo
4. Lust or love? Lust
5. Sunrise or sunset? Sunset
6. M&Ms or Skittles? M&Ms
7. Staying up late or waking up early? Staying up late

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY !!
1. Do you like anyone? I like lots of people....but not in the "lets get married and have babies" kind of way
2. Do they know it? I don't think that many people think I don't like them...so, yes?

DO YOU PREFER...
1. Sun or moon? Sun
2. Winter or Fall? Winter
3. Left or right? Right
4. 10 acquaintances or having two best friends? 10 acquaintances
5. Sun or rain? Sun
6. Vanilla ice cream or chocolate ice cream? Chocolate
7. Vodka or Jack? Neither, me and the captain make it happen.

ABOUT YOU!
1. What time is it? 4:02pm
2. Name? Natalie
3. Nickname(s): natterscatter, TheNat, G-nat, the notorious n-a-t, natatatat, natattack, hey you skank face
4. Where were you born? Gastonia, NC US
5. What is your birthdate? June 3, 1985
6. What do you want?....Right now, or eventually? Right now: To not have to go get books from the bookstore. Eventually: To get an awesome job.
7. Where do you want to live? New York
8. What would you want to name a girl? this is a stupid question and I'm never having kids. But for hypothetical purposes, I suppose I'd name her....Raegan
9. What would you want to name a boy? See above, and anything but Matt (the most unoriginal name in the universe)
10. You want to get married? Not particularly

UNIQUE!
1. Nervous Habits: Mom says I yawn when I'm really nervous
2. Are you double jointed? I don't know...but my shoulders pop out of place...the doctors refer to it as "laxity"...and I can grab my scapula with the same hand...
3. Can you roll your tongue? No
4. Can you raise one eyebrow? Yes
5. Can you cross your eyes? Yes
6. Do you make your bed daily? no
7. Which shoe goes on first? I've never noticed
8. Ever thrown one at someone? Yes I throw my basketball shoes at the cracker quite frequently actually...
9. On the average, how much money do you carry on you? None-I use a check card for pretty much everything
10. What jewelry do you wear? depends on what matches

OTHER
1. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it? I don't like spaghetti...but I twirl fettucini
2. Have you ever eaten Spam? Not that I can remember
3. Favorite ice cream? Brown Cow-Mayfield
4. How many kinds cereal are in your cabinet? a lot but it's all my roommates...half of them are probably stale
5. What's your favorite beverage? Mountain Dew, but I gave up drinking soda, so it's sweet tea nowadays
6. Do you cook? Not very well

IN THE LAST MONTH, HAVE YOU? (YES OR NO)
1. Had a b/f or g/f? No
2. Bought something you didn't need: Yes
3. Sang in front of people: Yes-I like to rap for my roommates on occassion
4. Been kissed: Yes
5. Been hugged: Yes
6. Felt stupid: More than likely
7. Missed someone: No
8. Got drunk: Let's see...last month..that would be since Dec. 11, 2006...yes.
9. Danced Crazy: Yes
10. Gotten your hair cut: No
11. Cried: No

Sometimes, I shouldn't be allowed to talk

2007-01-05T02:42:00.000-05:00

My roommate Meg had a friend over tonight. I think his name was Ryan. We were all sitting in the living room watching television and conversating. A car insurance commercial came on that said "7 out of 10 customers get a lower rate" or something to that effect, which sparked the question from Meg, what about the other 3? Ryan replies, very matter-of-factly, the rest are people who have DUI's.

This got me going, as there is no way that 30 percent of all people have had a DUI. A debate ensued.

He argued, "Well 1 in 3 people sitting on this couch has had a DUI."

Since I was fairly sure Meg hasn't had one, I assumed he was referring to himself (which he was).
I reasoned aloud, but mostly to myself that the 3 people on the couch are hardly a random sample. The subject was dropped.

And then there was a commercial for a security system, which sparked Ryan's brilliant comment: "I think the best home security system is keeping a loaded shot gun in the house."

To which I replied, "Yes, that is a great idea, until you decide to play with it when you're drunk...which obviously you've made some bad decisions when you were drunk in the past, who's to stop you from shooting yourself in the face on accident?"

I believe he was a bit stunned at my bluntness as he stumbled through, "well I've been around guns my whole life.."

I really wanted to say "and I bet you've been around cars your whole life too." But I didn't. Instead, I apologized for being mean, then I went and took a shower and thought about how bitchy I just was to a complete stranger.

Guns are just a touchy subject for me at this point, a friend of the family just died from a gun accident while he and his friends were drunk.

Perhaps the second amendment should include some sort of IQ test.

2007-01-03T23:38:00.000-05:00

Got my cover letter template done today. Tomorrow morning I'm headed back to Boone in time to catch a meeting at 1pm. I'm ready to get back, and to start the semester and stuff. I only have 16 credit hours this semester(I say only because I for some reason anticipated having to take 19 or 21...I took 19 this past semester) to get done to be able to graduate on time, if I calculated correctly. I still need to check with my advisor to make sure that's right.

Hopefully I'll get some resumes sent out by Friday. That's about all I got for now.

Day 2 and still going strong

2007-01-03T02:00:00.000-05:00

Well...kind of.

I got another headache today, as a result of going cold-turkey from soft drinks. If I were ever to get hooked on drugs, that would be the end of me. I'm having a lot of difficulty giving up soda--I imagine a heroine addiction is much more difficult to give up than a Mountain Dew addiction. They should make a caffeine patch. Actually, I just remembered that the makers of Jolt Cola make caffeinated gum. I'm pretty sure I have some lying around my apartment somewhere.

Currently I'm watching Blow. It's on the USA network. Such a great movie. It kind of makes me want to deal drugs.

I've been writing sports for the Watauga Democrat for a while now. I've always imagined when I got a writing job, I would really be able to write, making the words beautiful and entertaining. That's not the case, most times though. My stories are mostly write-ups of games that only merit facts. I'm finding it hard to make my writing what I want to make it. If you'd like an example, you can read my latest article in the Watauga Democrat about the Watauga girls' basketball team in their last tournament. It in no way showcases my writing ability. Deep down I know I have to make a name for myself in this way before I get a chance to do a lot of editorials, which is what I really like.

I actually got my first commentary published a week or two ago. I was really excited about it, even though there's a lot about it I would have changed had I had the time (I was given an hour to submit something on my sports topic of choice). Though my editor hasn't mentioned he needed any more, I might ask to see if I can get in a regular ASU men's basketball column editorial-type thing. He did mention that a few people at the paper told him they liked my article and asked who I was.

I've got to get all my stuff packed up and ready so I can get back to Boone on Thursday. Originally I was going to leave tomorrow, but I need my mom to help me with a cover letter. I'll spend some time getting some clips together to send out to potential employers also.

So this is the new year.

2007-01-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

As such, I made a few resolutions, three for the year of 2007, and one that is more of a new month resolution (new year's resolutions are so cliche, I really had to put a twist on it to make it). They are abstaining from fast food (I just saw "Super Size Me" recently...it kinda wigged me out) and all soft drinks, and to write daily, as promised. My resolution for the month is to have at least five resumes mailed out by the end of January.

So here's the Day 1 update:
Earlier today I had to make some coffee, which is unusual for me to do in the middle of the day, but I was getting a headache from not having any caffeine all day. I was dying for one of the Diet Dr. Peppers that were in the fridge. I'm currently drinking water, which you'll never see me do unless I've just worked out. I'm hating it. The fast food thing will be really hard once I get back to Boone. I suppose that I consider any resturaunt with a drive-thru to be fast food (or that you would usually expect to have a drive-thru, i.e. I can't have McDonald's just because it's part of a gas station and therefore has no drive-thru). I will have to some serious planning ahead on nights I go out with my roommates, because I usually depend on Taco Bell before I go to sleep. That'll be the true test.

Wish me luck.

Until tomorrow!

I'll be home for Christmas, but make no promises after that.

2006-12-28T01:02:00.000-05:00

Since last Friday, I've been on vacation from the real world. No, not the MTV reality show that is nowhere close to reality. No, not the kind of vacation where you get a good tan and lots of pictures you don't remember posing for. More like the kind where your flight gets re-routed and you end up in Scranton, PA instead of your more desirable destination of choice, but you decide to make the most of it because you have family there and your stay is free.

Just a vacation from everything I've come to know and love in my semi-adult lifestyle-a vacation from a full sized bed and goose-down comforter, being a 2 minute drive from anywhere I could possibly need to be, being within walking distance to any of my usual destinations, courtside seats at athletic events I'd watch even if I didn't have to write about them afterward, a living space in which no-one feels they have any authority over me and my roommates who provide infinite entertainment.

It has been replaced with a twin bed with a cheap wal*mart comforter, a 20+ minute drive to anywhere I would want to be (to get to MP, w/all the old friends from home...it's 20.....to uptown-Cha-town, it's about an hour, everything else is somewhere in between), limited athletic events to watch even from the couch-a result of the holiday (though I did enjoy Florida beating the crap out of Ohio State in men's bball), parents who will always (no really, always) have to know where I'm going if I happen to be sleeping under their roof, and a pair of dogs.

Of course, my vacation hasn't been all bad. With this sort of vacation back to my teenage years, I don't have to buy my own groceries. There's no schoolwork to stress over (Side note: Guess who made the Dean's List this semester despite the fact she took 19 credit hours?). Mom's food. I got some good stuff for Christmas (A new Derek Jeter calendar-essential for a happy new year, a memory-foam mattress pad, a $50 gift card to Wal*mart and Ann Taylor Loft, and some cash). My parents' house is a lot nicer than my Boone apartment (all of the burners on our stove work, the numbers for the oven temperature setting are still visible, general cleanliness), my parents' dog whines at my door until I wake up at around 9, so I'm guaranteed not to miss the day (I've been known to sleep in until 2 in the afternoon if I have no obligations). Mom bought me a full tank of gas the yesterday-probably the first time in months that my tank has been full.

I'm ready to get back to my reality, mediocre apartment and all. Frankly, this kind of vacation is exhausting, to the point that I'm going to take a vacation from my vacation, and then come back to it.

I have a Watauga High tournament to cover tomorrow, and possibly Friday if they win tomorrow. Then I'm doing something or other for the Meineke Bowl in Charlotte on Saturday. Then back to my parents' house, mostly because they're way closer to Charlotte than Boone. Shortly after that I plan to voluntarily return to Boone, whether there are sports to be covered or not..

Home: A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Just an update.

2006-12-13T00:28:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a while, so here's a bullet list of what's been going on in my life, what I've been thinking about, and what I expect from the near future.

I've got my last final tomorrow-a group presentation in my ad campaigns class, then I have to turn in some spanish stuff and I'm done for the semester with school stuff, finally. It's so hard to find motivation in my Advertising classes nowadays, because I've pretty much fallen in love with sports writing, and decided that I'm not that interested in doing anything professionally with advertising anymore, but I might as well finish out the couple classes I have for that major (I'm a major in Communication with a double concentration in Journalism and Advertising), because I've done too much for it to turn back now.
Finals period has been tough as always, but I've found this semester, that I haven't really been nearly stressed out about it this time as I have been in the past. I guess I'm finally getting the hang of being a college student (now that I'm graduating in about 5 months). Funny how as soon as we seem to be getting a grasp on something, we're pulled away from it.
I worked for sports info in the press box for the football game again. I realized that press boxes are probably the only place on earth where the line for the women's bathroom is shorter than the men's.
It's odd to me to notice, looking at the reporters, sports info people, broadcasters, etc; that all of the people who have made careers based on watching sports don't look as if they've ever been much into playing sports.
It's odd to me, thinking about the fact that there are far more people who make a career out of watching sports than people who make a career playing them....think about it. At any high level basketball game, there are at least 3-4 sports info people there for the school, door ticket takers, concession workers, people who work the big screens and do general maintenence of the facility, coaches, trainers, referees, sports writers, broadcasters...all based around the 10 people on the court.
I'm really excited about going to Chattanooga on Friday, and finally being able to watch as a fan, instead of taking stats for sports info.
I'm coming close to having resumes ready to send out. I've gotten mine done for the moment, and got the fancy paper and envelopes and all that. Now all I need to do is figure out a professional way to send out clips in an envelope that's not in a portfolio format. But I also need to do a portfolio too. My apprehension of the future after May is growing exponentially daily.
I'm covering the men's basketball game for the Watauga Democrat on Thursday night. Donte Minter (a transfer from Virginia) is making his Appalachian Debut. That should be entertaining, and I'm excited about that.

Blessings Counted.

2006-11-22T23:50:00.000-05:00

I have already decided what my new year's resolution will be this year. I will write something to be posted on this blog every day. Usually, I wait until the last minute to figure out a new year's resolution, and end up with something dumb or nothing at all. Not this year.
Though I acknowlege there will be instances that will prevent me, some days, from blogging. I will write something and backlog it as necessary.
I want something to look back on as a reference to see how much I've grown, how much I've changed, patterns that seem to occur in my life, to look back on my mistakes and learn from them; to look back on my successes and learn from them too. Look forward to reading lots more from me.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. In that spirit, I thought I'd make a list of the blessings I count.

But then I decided that that is too cliche for this time of year, and there's nothing worse than being unoriginal. Instead, I will write a list of grievances.
No, I'm just kidding. I doubt God would like that.

Since I have a lot of blessings, though, and don't want to rub your less-fortunate faces in them, (and since I like lists) I'll count something else. But you should know that I'm really really blessed (and be jealous, accordingly).

Now. What to count?
I'm stumped.

I'll count random thoughts, we'll go to 25.
1. This could very well wind up being the worst list I've ever written
2. Who would determine that?
3. I should go to a trophy shop and have a trophy designed with a plaque on the bottom that says. "Worst list ever written"
4. The trophy should be a man bowling, I've always wanted a random bowling trophy to display in my room.
5. I'd probably purchase a pedestal if I had a trophy like that, and I'd never let people touch it, though that would be virtually impossible because I would keep it so well polished.
6. I could get a glass for the top of it, like the one that covered the rose in Beauty and the Beast.
7. Beauty and the Beast was my favorite movie as a little girl, though when I think of it now, it kind of encourages the sexually deviant act known to some as "beastiality," and that's weird.
8. This is the third time I've seen this episode of Girls Next Door.
9. The time just became 12:01 am. It has officially been thanksgiving for 2 minuites.
10. I just respelled "minuites" three or more times. It still doesn't look correct, but I don't feel like looking it up.
11. At this exact moment on the other side of the world in Japan, I have a friend running a marathon relay.
12. I should go to bed.
13. I think Hugh Hefner will probably die on top of some really hot 25 year old. It will scar her for life.
14. My stomach hurts
15. I have so much schoolwork to get done tomorrow.
16. I hope I can actually get it done.
17. I can't believe I forgot running shoes to bring back to my parents' house with me.
18. I need new running shoes.
19. Mom told me today "at some point I guess we [dad and i] are going to want to know what you want for christmas"
20. Nothing that can be given to me.
21. I want to know what I'll be doing for a living after graduation. To know that I'll be okay financially. I'm a little scared about all of that.
22. I don't want to do advertising. I don't even like that mess anymore.
23. I need to go see the comm department chair to write a note to the deans office so I can substitute my internship for one of my ad classes, so I can do my grad audit so I can graduate.
24. I need to update my resume ASAP.
25. My mom recently got an email from my aunt; a picture of the underwear her daughter, my cousin, Megan designed for Victoria's Secret--she's the assistant designer for the Angel's collection there. She's a year older than me, and I can't get over how much of a BAMF she is.

editors annoy me

2006-11-10T03:09:00.000-05:00

All week, I've been pretty excited about a feature story I wrote on one of the ASU men's basketball players. I really felt like it was one of the better things I've ever written. It is scheduled to be published in tomorrow's edition.

It has already been published online. I discovered this about an hour ago, but was really angry an upset to find that it was botched by my editor. The best part of my article, in the lead, was done away with, and it no longer makes sense. The three phrases in the introduction no longer connect, as they did (beautifully, might I add) when I submitted my article.

There are careless errors in what was once, at least gramatically, perfect. Tony Barnett's name has two t's at the end. Not one.
One of my sentences was reworded, and as a result, an important article, "of" was left out, "a member Appalachian State’s women’s volleyball team."

The only up side to this abomination of a feature article is that my name, too, was spelled wrong, and therefore it won't be necessarily credited to me in future job hunts, because I'd rather not be affiliated with this article.

Many of the words that Watauga county residents will read in this article tomorrow aren't mine. I'm embarrassed that any resemblence of my name is in the by-line.

I'd love your imput though. Tell me whether or not I'm being biased, because I'd sure like to hear the opinions of others.

Here is the article I submitted this past Sunday, exactly as it was submitted.

"A full basketball game lasts four quarters. A full collegiate athletic career lasts four years. But on special occasions, we, as spectators, get the privilege of watching an over-time.

Such is the case with senior graduate student Nathan Cranford; a 6’2 guard on the Appalachian men’s basketball team. Cranford is in his fifth year at Appalachian, in pursuit of a master’s degree in business administration, putting the cherry atop the bachelor’s degree he received in May.

In the 2002-2003 season, Cranford was granted a medical redshirt due to a torn anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) after having played in five games for the Apps.

Fast-forward four years to find him still in the black and gold; one of the main reasons the Mountaineers will be contenders for the top spot in the Southern Conference this year.

Though the Apps return five seniors from last year, Cranford is the oldest of the bunch. He celebrated his 23rd birthday last Thursday, Nov. 1. “It feels great to have lived this long, but I’m getting old,” he said, insinuating the fatigue his body has felt over the course of his career.

After struggling to overcome the ACL injury his freshman year, Cranford battled back onto the court, eventually becoming a starter during the 2004-2005 season. “It was tough; it was more tough mentally than physically,” he said. “It’s just a long rehab, but we had good trainers-Tony Barnett, one of my good friends still to this day because I spent so much time with him. With rehab six days a week for six months, it was just mentally tiring.”

Cranford’s health flagged again last season, this time in the form of a back injury, though it didn’t stop him from starting 22 of 24 games, averaging 9.5 points per game and shooting .371 from the field and .354 from three-point range. Since then, Cranford has seen improvement in his condition. “My back’s been getting better over the summer and this year so hopefully by the time the season starts I’ll be feeling pretty good,” he said.

“I hope for him, he has an injury free season…last year was more back problems than it was knee problems but he’s had back problems and knee problems throughout his career,” said head coach Houston Fancher.

With age, though, comes experience; a category in which Cranford leads the team. “For him, being a fifth year senior, we expect leadership from him,” said Fancher. “When he speaks, people listen. He’s not always talking, but when he says things, they’re quality, and our kids respond to him.”

With all five starters returning, aspirations are high for this year’s team. Despite a disappointing season last year, finishing 14-16 overall, 6-8 in the conference; the Mountaineers were picked by Southern Conference coaches to finish second in the Southern Conference North Division after UNC Greensboro this year. Cranford, along with seniors Demetrius Scott and preseason All-Southern Conference pick D.J. Thompson will be expected to lead the effort.

Up for the challenge, Cranford said, “Personally, I just want to be able to help the team win. Last year, we finished below .500 and that can’t happen again this year, I won’t be satisfied with that.”

Balancing a rigorous basketball schedule with the responsibilities of graduate classes is challenging, but Cranford’s drive stems from gratefulness. “It’s more difficult than undergrad just because classes are more intense and more time consuming,” he said. “You’ve got to put a whole lot more time into it, but overall I’ve been blessed to have this opportunity to play basketball here and to get my graduate degree, so I’m thankful, so therefore I’m motivated.”

When he gets free time outside of school and basketball, Cranford enjoys hanging out with friends, playing on the computer, watching “That 70’s Show” and spending time with his girlfriend Amy Lewis, a member of the ASU women’s volleyball team.

The outlook for his last season at ASU promising, Cranford hopes to make the most of it. “I’ve enjoyed every second of basketball up here. It’s going to be sad to leave, but at the same time, I think we have a chance to do something special.”"

Here is the link to the article you'll find in tomorrow's paper.
http://www.wataugademocrat.com/2006/1106web/cranfordeyesfifthseason.php3

I'd be interested to know which article you think is better.

for just 96 cents a day...

2006-11-06T00:35:00.000-05:00

Last week, I met a long distance runner at one of the cross country parties. This would definitely be an ordinary happening if I were talking anywhere from 5k-10k distance, because most of the xc runners fall into that category. This guy runs marathons though.
I cannot fathom running 26.2 miles in one run. Although, sometimes I do dream I might do that much in one week. Last week, having run 6 days, I might have run 14-15 altogether. That's a generous estimate. This spurred a curiosity of long distance running, that I've been researching a little in my spare time (not that I have a whole lot) since.

My curiosity of that type of athleticism paired with the fact that I've been trying to keep my fingers on the pulse of athletics (a must if I want to be a major writer/broadcaster in sports media) led me to finding that today (actually technically yesterday, now, seeing as though it is now 12:30am and therefore Monday) the NYC marathon was held.

I was looking through the pictures of it, and began to realize that most of these guys remind me of the infomercials I see on television in the middle of the day. There's a man in a suit walking towards the camera in some dusty ghetto holding an underweight african kid, saying, "for only the cost of a cup of coffee a day, you could save this child's life."

I want to pull them out of the race by their bony elbows, wrap a coat over their shoulders and feed them something very fattening. I want to be one of the ones holding a cup out for them to grab as they run by; except instead of water, it'll be a chocolate milkshake.

Stop.
After having written the past few paragraphs, I'm looking over them and realizing how completely offensive they probably are to more than one group of people (those being, mainly A. marathoners, B. the malnourished commercial kids, C. The guy who holds the malnourished commercial kids in said commercials).

The only reason this thought has crossed my mind is because today my roommate said to me, "I equate you to a six-year-old child, because you ask a lot of questions, and you don't always consider the social implications of some of your comments."

With that in mind, I'd like to take whatever opportunity I may have left to write, throwing caution to the wind, because, if all goes to plan, I will be self-censoring soon, because people will actually be reading it, and I'll actually have to take their feelings into consideration. That sucks.

Go.
I want to mail their picture to some rich lady, and tell her, "for only the price of a cup of coffee per day, you can get Elias Kemboi off of the streets...he has to wander the roads of Manhatten all day with nothing on his feet except for the shoes that Nike pays him to wear. He needs your help."

One of these guys, William Kipsang from Kenya, looks as if he may have jaundice and should seek medical attention immediately. I'm pretty sure the whites of eyes should be white, not yellow.

That said, these people are amazing to me. Clearly, I am only hating because I am excessively jealous of their ability to run rediculous distances, and also drink water while running (something I have always aspired to do, but can't quite get the hang of...it just sloshes out around my cheeks and nothing really ends up in my mouth).

I wonder how long I'll be able to get away with writing freely like this. I imagine if it does ever get to the point where I can no longer write what I think, I'll assume a pen name, and just keep going. It's too much fun, and too liberating to stop.

If he won't say it, I will.

2006-09-14T00:58:00.000-04:00

It's been all over ESPN the past couple of days, the controversy between American League MVP candidates David Ortiz and Derek Jeter. Though he has since recanted the comments, for all purposes, claiming that the media "misconstrued" his words (though didn't directly say he was misquoted), it's tough to believe that Papi's monologue on Sunday wasn't a cheap shot line drive hit deliberately at the Yankee shortstop.

According to the Boston Globe, David Ortiz said Sunday, lighting a match to the over-analyzed pile of kindling, "They're talking about Jeter a lot, right? He's done a great job, he's having a great season, but Jeter is not a 40-homer hitter or an RBI guy. It doesn't matter how much you've done for your ball club, the bottom line is, the guy who hits 40 home runs and knocks in 100, that's the guy you know helped your team win games."

Yes. You have helped the Red Sox into second place in the American League East, 10.5 games back from the Yankees and a full eight back in the Wild Card race. And you did it while playing a whopping half of each game (a generous estimate assuming an average of 4 at-bats per game). We probably should just give you the award now instead of waiting until the end of the season.

Jeter is the first to admit that he is not a home run hitter, as he did the Thursday prior to Papi's MVP related comments. "I'm not much of a home run threat," he said in reference to being named a finalist for the 2006 American League Hank Aaron Award (an award for the best offensive player of each league). "I think sometimes people lose sight when they talk about baseball players, that hitting home runs makes them great, and if you don't hit home runs, then you're not," Jeter said. "Home runs get all the highlights -- you see them on 'SportsCenter' and all that. But there's more to the game than just home runs."

Ah, there's the rub. Though Jeter has had an offensive season worthy of the Hank Aaron award nomination-with a .343 batting average (second in the AL) and a .420 on-base percentage (fourth in the AL), 12 homers and 84 RBIs as of Sept. 5th (not to mention 29 stolen bases)-there's one other thing that really sets him apart from fellow MVP candidate: he plays defense.

Now, I've checked and double-checked my resources on this one, and, astonishingly, I come to the same results: there are two parts to an inning! I kid you not sports fans, a big part of the game of baseball actually involves a team running out on to a green area called a "field" to try to keep the opposing team from scoring. This process of getting "outs" and protecting white bags called "bases" is sometimes referred to as "playing defense." Now, I didn't double check my findings with David Ortiz because, frankly, my revelation would be news to him too. But it's a concept Derek Jeter seems to understand well. Perhaps if he wasn't so busy focusing on this so called "defense" (and all of the numbers he's put up so far indicate he's having a debatably gold-glove worthy season again this year), Jeter might hit a few more homers.

He could have said all of this to the press, and been completely correct, but the always classy Yankee captain Derek Jeter, responded to Ortiz's Sunday comment only by coyly shifting the attention back to his team, saying, "I'm not thinking about winning an MVP, I'm thinking about winning the division...Our focus here isn't on individual awards. We've still got something to play for."

Ooh. Burn.

2006-09-04T03:50:00.000-04:00

I've was that girl on Friday night. I was the drama queen, the know-it-all, the loudmouth gossip. I was a crappy friend. And I was drunk.

I've been hung-over ever since. Although my physical condition improved Saturday afternoon just after I purged the last of my stomach bile into some bushes, the supplementary repercussions of Friday night have infected the rest of the weekend, plaguing Saturday, Sunday and early this morning.

A couple of friends are now ex-friends and I can’t imagine that I’ll ever be able to repair those relationships. I really just want to get out of the weekend. To amputate the weekend, cut my losses, and get out as quickly as possible. I want to be back in Boone. I want to not talk to anyone, because I’m too pessimistic right now to think that I’ll be able to have a conversation without the infection spreading.

But I did call my cousin. I wanted to talk to someone who has to love me in spite of the fact that sometimes I can be a real bag of douche. I talked to him for half an hour, about everything and nothing and it felt like a cortisone injection. I knew it wasn’t going to solve the problem, but for a while it numbed the pain.

I know that my hangover will fade eventually. Things will get back to normal; with the exception of a few things that may never be the same. Some amputated limbs just won’t grow back and there’s nothing you can do except get a wheelchair and hope what’s left of you is strong enough to push it.

Planning

2006-05-06T00:55:00.000-04:00

It is the beginning of summer. This could very well be my last summer of semi-freedom, before entering the "real world" and having to have a "real job" and such. Thus, this summer needs to kick ass more than any other summer ever. The summer of '03 is going to be tough to beat though. Here are some things I want to get out of the summertime.

-take lots of pictures
-be tan
-eat no fast food (that's right, none....starting the minute I arrive at my parent's house-either sat or sunday)
-enjoy a lot of reading
-Work at the 'zoo!! both as a server, and as an advertising/marketing intern
-find a volunteer project
-join the YMCA so I have somewhere to work out
-teach my parents' dog something cool
-save money
-turn 21 (June 3!!)
-Go to Atlantic City
-Annual trip to long island
-See a Yankees Game (in Yankee Stadium)
-see the movie: The DaVinci Code
-run
-not waste half of my time sleeping like I tend to do in the summertime
-drink coffee in the mornings on the deck with my mom
-celebrate Meredith's 21st
-road trip to Florida to visit Macon with some of my fav girls: Brooke, Meg, Olivia, Ginny

Cartoons and their messages to today's youth.

2006-03-26T18:48:00.000-05:00

My mother was one of nine children in her family. As a result I have slightly less than a gazillion cousins, the majority of them residing in New York. Some of them are older than me, the oldest being around 26ish maybe, many of them younger, the youngest probably 4 to 5. This past summer, on our annual trip to New York, I got a chance to get aquainted with one of my youngest cousins. Marissa.

Also known as "The Terror" by the family, Marissa is, as my dad might refer to her, a pistol. She was thrown out of preschool for fighting a couple years back. She's girly, as apposed to her tom-boy sister Sarah, wanting to wear my lipgloss and play with my hair. Some of the family says I look like her.
I let her use my digital camera, and wound up with a bunch of photos she'd taken of herself, one of which I've posted. You decide.

Marissa's favorite show is Dora the Explorer. This Nickelodeon cartoon is about an hispanic girl who goes on adventures, teaching kids spanish along the way. One of the characters, Swiper, I find deeply troubling and somewhat humorous. Swiper is a fox that attempts to steal things in many shows from Dora. Dora's defense to this is to yell, with assistance from the audience, "Swiper, No Swiping!" three times, to which the fox snaps his fingers and says "AAwwww Man!" As if this shouting has somehow put up an impenitrable forcefield between him and his intended target, and he can't steal it anymore.

There's some good real-world knowledge for kids to pick up on: When some guy tries to steal your wallet, you should yell "No, swiping" at him, and he'll realize his defeat and walk off.
I'm just waiting for the episode where Dora yells "Swiper, No Swiping" and the cartoon fox pulls out a .45 and continues on with his robbery.

With this fox attempting to steal Dora's shit in every episode, you'd think Dora would wise-up and start packing pepper-spray in that backpack of hers (instead of some crazy talking map). Then Swiper would think twice the next time he considers robbing her.

Love.

2006-03-09T00:48:00.000-05:00

I was having a conversation on AIM with Pat, as I often do late at night when I should be sleeping, and he made a comment that I don't love anything. The conversation went as follows:

The Baker's Man: you must understand, if i was a movie critic, i probably be Jay Sherman
Me: I hated that show
The Baker's Man: haha
The Baker's Man: we don't like any of the same shows
The Baker's Man: or hardly anything at all
Me: lol.
The Baker's Man: we're like polar opposites
Me: except you like the way I sing NWA
The Baker's Man: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
The Baker's Man: i need that on video
Me: I don't think you're that privileged
The Baker's Man: privileged?
The Baker's Man: what, i need a special pass?
Me: I don't love anyone enough to put that on video
The Baker's Man: well, hardly love anything
The Baker's Man: *you hardly
Me: why do you say that?
The Baker's Man: i'm not sure why
Me: ?
Me: you can't make comments like that and not be able to back them up, Pat
The Baker's Man: you tell me you don't like onions, beans, Rachael Ray, Johnny Damon

I'm not going to lie...that comment, that I don't love anything, made me feel a little dead inside. And so to make myself better and to prove pat wrong, I'm making a list of things I love.

- My goose down comforter
- Ronda the Honda, especially her sunroof
- The New York Yankees
- Derek Jeter
- sleeping in
- My dog, Fly
- My Mom
- Finding a clever or unique way to write something
- Finishing a piece of writing I think is particularly good
- Sweet Tea
- Sweet Potatoes
- Falling asleep to the sound of the ocean
- The way Sportscenter loops over and over in the mornings
- chocolate in any form
- cherry lemon sundrop
- soda in general
- Dairy Barn and the concept of a drive-thru supermarket
- sagging my sweatpants
- my pink rainshoes
- shoes in general
- sun-tanned toes
- Gilmore Girls
- making exciting plans
- lists
- playing basketball w/the boys at the quinn (even though it frustrates me sometimes)
- reading outside
- sunny, warm days in boone when I can take Fly for a run outside
- surprising people
- the ability to run, really fast, for no apparent reason
- to sing. little known fact about me...I love to sing.
- Summer.
- Country Music in Mount Pleasant. They seem to belong to one-another.
- What-a-burger #13 (located in MP)
- The beach
- Virgin Strawberry Daquiris
- warm towels out of the dryer
- a drawer full of clean socks
- playing volleyball (especially on a girls net...it's harder to kick ass on a guys net)
- Will Ferrell
- Rachael McAdams
- Good photographs, especially when I took them
- Shampoo that smells good-usually I pick pantene pro v, but also herbal essences
- playing football-something I seldom get to do
- long sleeved t-shirts
- naps
- homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
- chocolate chip muffins
- the smell of my neighborhood in the mornings in the summer-fresh cut grass.
- boats
- air conditioning...especially the way it smells on a summer day
- music..any and all--all the time
- chocolate milk
- hot chocolate (the carnation "double chocolate meltdown kind, made w/milk, not water)
- home movies
- soft carpet under bare feet
- Long Island accents
- Ripened fresh fruit

Meeting friends in the library

2006-02-28T00:39:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here at a computer in the 4th floor of the library, as I have been for about 45 minutes, trying to find appropriate songs to use for a compilation cd for my media graphics project. After I found these songs, I have to gather their copywrite information and design a cd insert using all of that and some different (provided) graphics. This is all due tomorrow. In case you didn't know, I'm pretty big on procrastination.

When I arrived here, extatic about finding one of the last available computers in the library, all the way in the back of the 4th floor room, I was hunting for a place to plug in my jump drive, and after surveying the front with no success, got up and looked at the back. Though I found what looked to be a set of 3 USB ports (which they must be because one is occupied by the mouse that's plugged in), before I could attemt to plug my USB drive in, a guy speaks up next to me, "They're around front."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, let me show you"...and he proceeds to look precisely where I looked at the beginning, but points out a drive hanging under the overhang sort of thing...tricky. Anyways, because of it's shotty locale, I struggled to get it into the drive. He'd just sat down and I could feel him staring at me as I tried frantically to get the thing plugged in so as not to look like any more of an idiot. Mission not accomplished.
"You want me to do it?"
..So I said yes, which I decided would be better than saying no, and continuing to fumble around with it for 5 for minutes, looking even more computer illiterate. This time, he had at least a little trouble, but managed to connect it. I said thanks and finally began to work, which brings me to five minutes ago.

At this point, I think it's important to note, that, while I didn't notice said male to be particularly unattractive, I didn't notice him to be particularly attractive either. This being the case, I was glad he didn't try to strike up a conversation after my display of computer-retardedness.

Library boy seems to be packing up his stuff, and I glance over (because I'm semi-ADD, and I like to know what's going on around me), and I'm sure he saw me look, but I looked back at my computer quickly, as to avoid eye further eye contact. I'm staring at this computer screen, fairly distracted by the fact that while he proceeds to pack up what must have been a series of very complicated materials, he seems to be staring at me to make some sort of "so long" conversation. I pretend not to notice, and continue to stare straight ahead. A few minutes pass, and I'm wondering how many different pockets he could possibly have on this bookbag of his. This is the longest packing-up process ever. He stands up. Finally, he's done, he's leaving. Wrong.
I had forgotten about the coat. Or rather coatS. I continue not looking, but I can only assume it is coatS with the amount of zippers that are being put into action. All the while he's facing this direction, and I stare straight forward. More zippers. At this point he may have gone back to do some more zipping of the bookbag. He must have some secret compartments in that thing.

And then nothing. Silence and he's standing there, facing my direction at about my 8 o'clock. Just standing there, not zipping at all. I grow more uncomfortable. I glance that way out of the corner of my eye, which is not at all effective because he's at my 8 oclock and i can't see anything. I wonder if he saw my eye shift. I'm betting he did, because not long after that, he finally left.

I'm such a bitch. Meh.

feeling the need for speed? Me...I'm feeling the need for heroine, but if speed is your thing...whatev.

2006-02-26T03:07:00.000-05:00

As you may already know, I work at the gym(s) on campus. As part of my duty as an Informal Fitness and Recreation Supervisor, I spend a lot of time walking aimlessly in circles on the track surrounding the basketball courts, sporting my oh-so-cool first aid fanny pack (recently reminded to be a requirement in employee emails).

Being as my employers have been emphasizing the need, this semester, for a supervisor to be in the basketball/volleyball court area of the gym at all times, I've logged a lot of time on that two-lane track as of late. In my time spent on this track, I can recognize a lot of the "regulars," one of which has caught my attention.

He comes in and plays basketball a lot, whom I've noticed, rarely wears a shirt. Now, the Quinn Center (the bigger gym on campus w/the basketball courts) has a policy that says you must wear a shirt, that either he doesn't know or he doesn't care. Me, being the apathetic Supervisor that I am, I don't really see that it's hurting anyone, and don't care enough to enforce it. Yeah, I said it, I don't enforce the "wear a shirt" rule (for this guy anyway). So write me up.

But Shirtless boy wears dogtags as he's playing ball though, which kills me. Now, I don't know if he was actually in the military at one point, or if he just fancies himself Goose from Top Gun; but this is part of the reason I don't say anything to him: It gives my active imagination something to laugh about and make fun of in my head as I'm walking lap after lap in the gym. The only way this situation could get any better, in my head, is if he was wearing jeans or sweatpants to play in.

There's another reason I choose not to enforce the shirt policy (with this guy anyway). That is that I have no doubt that I would not be able to resist a smartass comment forcing it's way out of my mouth in order to enforce said policy: "Hey, Iceman, does this look like beach volleyball to you? Negative, ghost rider, the pattern is full....put a shirt on."

Comments like this would no doubt merit a chat with the head boss Joe Carter, who is the head of University Recreation. Not that I don't like chats with Joe Carter but, ...No wait, it actually is that I don't like chats with Joe Carter. He scares me a little.

Finding Family

2006-02-22T02:19:00.000-05:00

I'd known for a while that I was in some way related to a guy who was on the plane that dropped the Atomic Bomb on Nagasaki, "Charlie Sweeny," as my Grandma had always referred to him. I think he was her cousin.

Up until this semester (when I've started taking a very, surprisingly interesting history class, "The World Since 1945"-which has, thus far, focused mainly on World War II) I haven't found this information to be particularly impressive or interesting. An extra credit assignment was given this weekend, to watch "Saving Private Ryan" and "Enemy at the Gates" and write a 500 word paper comparing and contrasting. Spending 8(ish) hours watching these movies this past weekend, got me to thinking about the people in the war, specifically this "Charlie Sweeney." So I googled him.

Charles W. Sweeny: Not only was he in the plane that dropped the Atomic bomb on the Japanese City of Nagasaki, he was the pilot of this plane. And, he was flying a plane that was following the plane that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. He was the only one who participated in both bombings. He wrote a book, which I'm probably going to purchase via amazon.com .

He died not long ago, I hate that it took me so long to become intruiged by all of this, I would have liked to ask him a lot of questions. Even so, it's kind of interesting to know that I'm related to one of the guys responsible for ending World War II.

Above is a picture of Captain Charles Sweeney...and then him (in the middle) with the crew of the mission, and the "Bock's Car," the boat of a plane that he flew to drop the "Fat Man" on Nagasaki. See a family resemblance?

..Really, when I put a stogie in my mouth, I look just like that.

If you enjoy reading about my drunken antics.

2006-02-19T18:47:00.000-05:00

A few weekends ago, I was demanded to download comedian Dane Cook, so I could appreciate his hilarity. Being the music pirate (*not to be confused with butt-pirate) that I am, I did so. I urge you to do the same, for reasons that are twofold: 1.) He's funny. and B.) Because you'll be able to understand this post a lot better if you do. You can check him out at his website or you can be a rebel like me, and download it for free via Ares. He has, since I started listening to his stuff, become my second favorite stand-up comedian (to Brian Regan).

Dane Cook, if you are unfamiliar (and disobedient, apparently because I did just URGE you to go download it...) with him, does a bit regarding a way to be remembered. As a part of this, he suggests going to a party, and deffocating on the coats in the coat-room.
"It's more for you, because no-one will ever know it was you, but you'll know, and that's all that matters. The next time you go to a party, go into the room where all the coats are.....shit on the coats. Garaunteed at some point, someone's gonna walk out of that room and go, "Someone shit on the coats!....Someone has SHIT on the coats!" That's the only thing you can say when someone shits on the coats...they might say, "I think someone may have shit on or around the coat area"...but again, you're there! you're there watching it all happen, and it's your job, all you're gonna do at some point, you're going to lean in and go "What!?" and then blend back into the crowd..."What?! I hope it wasn't on my coat..." ...and then boom, you're a phantom, disappear..."

And so I'm at this party last night, inebriated, and this is boone, so I wore a coat of course. No, I did not deffocate on the coats, that's what you're thinking, I know. I did not deffocate on the coats. But there was in fact, a coat room where I put my coat. While doing this, I'm thinking Dane Cook! I'm also assuming he's a fairly popular comedian that somebody else has heard of. So I come out of this room, and exclaimed, quite loudly SOMEONE SHIT ON THE COATS! (Blank stares from all around me..including many I don't know) "Someone has shit on or around the coats!"...and I began to realize that no-one knows what I'm talking about and they're thinking their coat has actually been shat on. *Side note, for visual imagination purposes, During this episode, I'm wearing my visor that I purchased from Target last weekend for twenty-five cents, that says, "GET PUMPED" on the front...I may or may not have been wearing said visor backwards, I can't remember.

In my drunken stupor I make a pointless effort to explain why this is funny, and surprisingly, had a small crowd gathered around me to listen to my explanation of this strange behavior of mine. I begin to realize that I'm not a good public speaker anyway, and the chances are very slim that my abilities improve with the consumption of alcohol. It doesn't appear that these people seem to get it (though I did seem to hold their attention, amazingly...must have been the hat)...and so I get annoyed, and just walk off after saying, curtly "Dane Cook....look it up."

A visit to the doctor man

2006-02-07T20:33:00.000-05:00

Last night, after I got off of work, I walked to my car. It was around 10ish, and I my iPod was playing "it's a wonderful world." It was another one of those moments when I got the feeling I'd remenisce on that moment years from now, walking across campus on a chilly, but clear February night.

Once I made it to my car, I proceeded to place my bookbag in my passenger seat, and in the process, managed to hurt my back. I swear, I am the only person who can play basketball with the boys, start back with lifting (squats being a main focus of this lifting regimin), do a gazillion hours of cardio during a week and come out unscathed, but I manage to hurt myself putting my (not heavy) bookbag into my car. So I stood up very slowly, and drove home, cringing every time I made a turn, or had to accelerate or brake or move my right foot or check my blind spot. I took a lot of drugs last night, and this morning, all of which were ineffective. This of course, merited a trip to the oh-so-lovely student health center.

Ah the infirmary, placed strategically in the worst part of campus, far away from any sort of significant parking area, and, of course, up a flight of stairs. Someone was not thinking when they were deciding where to put the infirmary. Either that or they were very cruel. I imagine some faceless man turned around in a big chair, with a cat. Something like the claw from Inspector Gadget, tapping his fingers mischieviously "Let's make the sick and the injured people walk all the way across campus! We're in the mountains...there's no avoiding a hike up some sort of massive hill! Yessss. And then...we'll make them climb stairs!!" Good plan.

So, after I made the journey down a mountain and back up again, I climbed the stairs and made it to the infirmary.

Now, the general procedure is that you fill out a form as soon as you get there. Name, social security number, etc. Not a long form at all. Quick and painless. Unless of course you have some sort of hand injury--carpel tunnel or something of the sort. Not long enough to merit a dig through the bookbag to find your own pen. So you use the one hanging from the chain connected to the desk. I thought to myself while filling out this form, "there has to be so many germs on this pen....all of the sick people on campus have probably used this pen...I'm going to get a disease. I'm going to wake up with meningitis, and it's going to be from using this pen. Tommorrow I'll have VD, and I'll have learned my lesson about touching the pen in the student health center."
Then I spied the hand sanitizer sitting on the counter a few feet away. Pppfhhh. Hasn't it been proven that that stuff is only slightly more effective than washing your hands with water? Don't quote me on that...but I don't trust the stuff.

So I pondered my impending death via disease from the health center pen as I chose a seat to wait for the nurse to call me. I chose one with a table, so that I could read my copy of the New York Times (it's so hard to hold and read a newspaper!) But before I could retrive it, I see, what's this? It's a puzzle, just waiting for me to put it together (or at least to help)! And before I knew what I was doing, I found myself digging through the cardboard pieces to find edges.

Natalie. Seriously. You were just thinking about how unsanitary that pen over there must be, and you're sitting here putting your fingers all over these cardboard puzzle pieces, which CANNOT be sanitized (because any sort of moisture would cause them to change shape and not fit), which have also been touched by sick people!

I got to thinking about my pediatrician at home (the last time I was sick enough to go to the doctor, yes, it was a pediatrician). I thought of the toys in the waiting room. I then decided that if I ever have kids, I will pack toys for them to play with when they go to the doctor, because I wouldn't want them getting sick from touching those toys.

Finally I make it through the nurse, to the doctor's room, where I sat on the paper-covered bench thing. I wondered where it was that the doctor is while I'm waiting. I'm in the room designated for Doctor Cranston. I love him, but that's beside the point. What do the doctors do while you're waiting on them? The nurse tells him I'm in the room, and he proceeds to hide in a broom closet somewhere, because it's just common knowledge that doctors are not in their office when you enter. It seems to be his office. There's a desk. There's lots of stuff that says "Doctor Cranston" on it. So where could he be? Not attending to other patients, because I've been to see him before, and this was always the room I was put in. This is probably the only room he gets patients in.

And so I find myself looking around the small room for about ten minutes...looking at the clock straight in front of me, watching the second hand move through the numbers. I decide to see how long I can hold my breath. I get to 40 seconds, when finally, the man with the rainbow suspenders walks in. Doctor Cranston. I'm sure he was wondering why I was so out of breath. "Yeah, sitting on this table is hard work..."

It takes him aproximately 5.23 seconds to tell me I probably have a back spasm, to put heat on it, and that he's prescribing me some Darvocet.

So I cross the hall to the pharmacy, check out the condom buying options on the little blue card in front of me as my prescription is filled, and hope that this 'darvocet' is more effective than the Aleve I took probably too much of this morning.

For the record, if I wind up dying from some strange disease in the next few days, have them burn the puzzle. Just to be safe.

40 days and 40 nights

2006-02-06T12:20:00.000-05:00

The season of lent is coming up, which means I'll be giving something up from Ash Wednesday (March 1st) until Easter. In previous years, I've always gone with giving up soda, because that was a challenging task--carbonated beverages have a special place in my heart. Coincidentally, it also coincided with the beginning of outdoor track season in high school, so I fancied that it was helpful in the physical fitness aspect as well.

This year, soda is still a possibility, but there are other options as well. Here are some ideas that have come to me in the past few days.

-Alcohol.
-Chocolate.
-Sweatpants and Sweatshirts (if you know me, you know this'd be hard for me to pull off)
-Fast food, and/or, pasta
-AIM
-Facebook
-Gilmore Girls

And I think to myself, "what a wonderful world.."

2006-02-05T21:59:00.000-05:00

Saturday morning I slept in. I woke up to the sound of thunder crashing, and I lay awake for forty minutes listening to the rain draining out of the gutters into puddles in the parking lot. I lay with my new comforter pulled up to my chin, on the right side of the bed, as always. I thought to myself, that there was no where I'd rather be; than in my bed, in my goose down comforter, alone.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning, when the storm woke me up. That's my idea of sleeping in nowadays. Ten o'clock. I sighed, I'm sure. I thought, probably, about the things I would do later that day (go to the gym, go tan, clean, do laundry). Then I thought of the water falling outside. How a thunderstorm feels like summer. I thought of being right where I was, right then. And I was happy to know that I could appreciate a moment like that.

All too often I think that I take moments like that for granted, or that we all do. I think that one day I'll wish that I was there: on a saturday morning, swimming in my overstuffed airy blue shield from the world, on the right side of my bed, with no-one to my left.

For the moment, there was nothing to worry about. I had no work to get up for, no class to go to, nothing to be self concious about. Later, yes, I'd eat something fairly unhealthy (it ended up being left-over chinese food, lo-mein, for breakfast), and then I'd feel guilty about it. I would go lay in the tanning bed, which would inspire me to go to the gym. I'd go to the gym to feel better about myself after my carb-tastic breakfast, and after 30 minutes of running, 25 minutes of biking, and 25 minutes of eliptical I actually do. And then I would clean. I would clean because I have guests coming, and my apartment is, once again, a disaster.

But all of that would wait. Because I was laying in my bed, under my wonderful comforter (appropriately named), all of it would wait because it could wait, until I finally grew tired of listening to the rain outside.

Improvements to make in Boone.

2006-01-25T17:50:00.000-05:00

Boone is an okay town, quite cold at times, but it has it's perks (good trails for running, good views, I'm quite fond of the Boone Bagelry, you're never at a shortage for hippies to make fun of if you ever get the urge-especially on a warm day, when they come out in flocks, shoeless, equipped with their bongos, acoustic guitars, tight ropes to walk on, and frisbees to Sanford Mall, sometimes I see boys playing Polo on their bicycles on a field by my apartment...that's mildly entertaining, etc.), and we have some of the essentials (Movie Theaters, bowling alleys, a variety of grocery stores).

BUT, there are a lot of ways it could improve too. I've been thinking about this and have decided to make a list.

Things Boone Needs.

1. Target. I'm so sick of Wal*mart. And Target's way better.

2. Jack in the Box. Some days, I just want a Sourdough Jack...is that too much to ask?

3. Best buy. No explanation needed.

4. IHOP. I like breakfast. But I don't like waking up during breakfast hours. And I can't tell you the number of times I've craved pancakes at 10:00 at night.

5. Waffle House. Seriously, this is a college town. They could do some massive business from the hours from 12-3am. The perfect place to go after binge drinking? Waffle House. Especially because all of the other late-night establishments here suck (yes, I'm talking to you, McDonalds, who gives me a Filet-o-fish when I asked for Chicken Nuggets; and yes, I'm talking to you Taco Bell, who once ran out of BEEF. How do you run out of beef when you're TACO BELL!?!...it's pathetic.). You may be saying to yourself, but Natalie, there's a Huddle House in Boone! To you I say: Pfffhhh. Huddle House. What exactly is a "huddle" with exception of the football terminology? Are you selling me a group of sweaty guys in body armor? Hmm. Okay, but that still doesn't solve the problem of the fact that I'M HUNGRY.

6. A decent mall. The Boone Mall sucks. Of course, there are the typical JC Penny and Belk. I think there may be a Bath and Body Works, and a Claire's or something of the sort. I have no idea what other craptastic stores are in the edifice that occupies that waste of space. Give me an express! Give me an Abercrombie and Fitch, or a Hollister. And by God, where is the Victoria's secret!? What kind of mall doesn't have a Vicky C's? It's a sin, I think, to have a mall without a Victoria's Secret.

7. A bookstore. A big one. Not one like the tiny Black Bear books (that can be found on Blowing Rock road), but something big that can rival the prices of the school bookstore. Books-a-million, Barnes & Noble, etc. I'm sick of the school bookstore (or amazon.com) being my only options for book purchasing, and getting ripped off every semester.

8. A Dairy Barn. Meredith and I have discussed this in depth...
Meredith Witt: wow, you are a mover and a shaker. i dont know if the north will be able to handle you.

Auto response from NatterScatter: I'm moving up north, one day, because they have Dairy Barns.

But I'm gonna teach them to make sweet tea, and sell it in resturaunts and stuff......you just wait and see.
Me: they're just going to have to learn
Meredith Witt: thank goodness you are there to guide them
Me: yeah
Me: I don't know how they make it w/out me now, to be honest w/you
Meredith Witt: hmmm that is a good question
Meredith Witt: i dont know how they do it either
Me: but there's no doubt in my mind it'll be a better place when I get there
Me: and I'll be happier, b/c I'll be in the presence of drive thru supermarkets
Meredith Witt: WHAT
Meredith Witt: they have those
Meredith Witt: are you kidding me
Me: That's what DAIRY BARN is
Meredith Witt: ohhhh
Meredith Witt: i thought it was like where you kept all the milk
Meredith Witt: im dumb
Me: you drive up and tell the person, I want some milk, OJ, bread, etc
Me: lol
Meredith Witt: wow
Meredith Witt: i might just have to road trip next time i am our of flour
Meredith Witt: *out
Me: no need to put on a bra before you go get some essentials
Me: yeah
Meredith Witt: i like where your head is
Me: that's the predicament I'm in now
Meredith Witt: lol
Meredith Witt: hahah
Me: I need cola
Meredith Witt: well take one for the team and bag the ladies before you go to the store
Me: but I just don't want to make the move for the underwear drawer
Me: I'm debating if it's even worth it
Meredith Witt: hmmm i dont know how to properly measure cola need
Me: well, for tonight, it's pretty high on the scale, b/c I plan to do some SERIOUS channel surfing
Me: I mean, w/the new treehouse of horror episode on the simpsons
Me: and family guy and all
Meredith Witt: you are gonna have to just go...bra and everything
Me: looks like it
Me: :'(
Me: either that or make a quick road trip
Meredith Witt: i say cola tonight....braless roadtrip you really need to save for a saturday
Me: I wish Boone take out express delivered groceries
Meredith Witt: i bet if you called them and told them about the bra situation they would make an exception and bring you come esentials
Me: lol
Me: maybe
Meredith Witt: alrighty yo i must get back to paper writing so i will talk to you later...hope your grocery worries work themself out!!! haller
Me: thanks...have a good time w/the paper! later
Me: I've decided to forego the bra and put on a big sweatshirt! no-one will ever know!
Meredith Witt: ahhh you are so smart
Meredith Witt: way to be a problem solver
Meredith Witt: lol
Me: yeah, just some critical thinking skills put to good use
Meredith Witt: im proud
Meredith Witt: really
Me: thanks
Me: that means a lot
Me: I'm trying to shorten this convo so that it fits in my away message
Me: but I just can't do it
Meredith Witt: haha
Meredith Witt: i bet if you use some more of your critical thinking you can doo itt
Me: yeah, I'm working on it
Meredith Witt: lol
Me: there...that'll have to suffice

Auto response from regturkey: Barking dogs seldom bite.

Me: mmm interesting
Meredith Witt: i like it
Me: I'll keep that in mind
Meredith Witt: yes i think it is a helpful bit of informatino
Me: alright...I'm going to put on my sweatshirt and get some cola
Meredith Witt: alrighty
Meredith Witt: haller
Me: p's

I'm sure I'm leaving things out. But this is what has come to me as of late...give me some suggestions and I'll add to the list.

Things I remember about Grandma.

2006-01-17T23:28:00.000-05:00

I've been reminded a lot of my Grandma, in random ways a lot since she passed away after Thanksgiving. I still have to remind myself that she's gone.

In the bookstore today, I noticed Valentine's Day cards on a stand. For a brief second, I thought of picking out one for my Grandma, because I had done this for a long time. In elementary school, we made boxes for all of our Valentines that everyone in our class would get for everyone else. I remember her helping me with mine one year. It was a shoebox covered in aluminum foil so it was really shiny. Then we cut hearts out of red, white, and pink construction paper and glued them on. I remember my box was one of the best that year.

I made pasta a little while ago, ate, and watched television. Then I tucked Fly in her bed, and checked to make sure I had turned the stove off. I remembered my Grandma, how she did that every night, whether we had used the stove or not (I'm pretty sure she had been diagnosed as obsessive compulsive). She would point and shake her finger at each dial individually as she eyed them , making sure they said "off."

I remember walking down the street after I got off of the school bus in elementary school. She would be waiting on the porch for me, and once I got close would yell, "Hello little girl!" And I would yell back, "Hello big Grammy."

She taught me to read.

She was my refuge when I got in fights with my parents. I would go balling into her room, out of breath, my cheeks puffy and wet. She would hug me and take my side and it would always be better. Sometimes they'd forbid me from running to her. Usually she'd sneak in to see me later. When I couldn't sleep at night, I'd sneak into her room and sleep at the foot of her bed. As I got tired, she'd tell me stories about how she "played hookie" and spent a day sitting in a tree. But then maybe I just imagined the tree part. She loved to tell a story about Grampa steve, how he was the captain of the basketball team and how she snuck out of her house and took a taxi to one of his games when they were in high school.

Whenever I had a friend over to visit, afterwards she'd always say, "she's not as pretty as you." She thought I was the prettiest girl in the world.

She prayed a lot. She always had a rosary in her sweater pocket, and when I was in high school, watched the Mass on television every day. She would always tell me "I said a prayer for you today." Sometimes she'd ask me to say one for her.

At my parents house, there's a picture of me and her. I must have been around 5 and it must have been Christmas. I was wearing a pink princess outfit over my pajamas with my slippers on. I was standing up, and she's sitting forward in the recliner, and we're both bent over the coffee table, playing Candy Land. I tried to play Candy Land with her a year or two ago in the nursing home, but she couldn't grasp the concept, didn't understand where to move her piece, which piece was hers, that sort of thing.

She got in a fight with her first roommate in the Nursing home. As in a physical fight. I think she punched her. I can't remember what it was over. That struck me as sort of funny that they had to relocate my Grandma to a different room for fighting.

Everything my mother ever cooked I remember her describing as delicious. Even when I thought it was just mediocre.

I remember her hands. They were big and soft and wrinkly and smelled perpetually of Softsoap. Her fingernails were always clean and trimmed. I liked to push in the blue veins that protruded, amazed that it didn't hurt her when I did.

Her grey hair was always in a pony tail, the only exception being when she bathed, of course.
Thick, granny-style bifocals sat in front of her big blue eyes (except towards the end, when she stopped bothering with glasses altogether) with eyelashes and brows blond, so you couldn't really tell they were there at all.
She wore oversized sweaters with pockets on either side over her button-down shirts. In these pockets, you were bound to find tissues and napkins neatly folded, and also a set of rosary beads if she wasn't using them.
She wore her cotton pants too high because she was afraid she'd trip on them.

I have a dimple in my left cheek. I got that from her.
I miss her a lot.

A survey I stole from Stephanie Klein's blog.

2006-01-16T14:36:00.000-05:00

1. What time did you get up this morning? I didn't...it was 1:17 in the afternoon...I couldn't sleep last night, and found myself watching Red Dragon until 3 something, and then struggling to get to sleep afterward for fear of someone breaking in and killing me.
2. Diamonds or pearls? Both. But not together.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Rumor has it, with Seth Furr drinking a venti caramel light frappuccino
4. What is your favorite TV show? Gilmore Girls
5. What did you have for breakfast? Mocha Frappuccino, and then went straight to lunch, which was a cheeseburger cooked on the george forman, with a stale, chewy bun that's been in my apartment for far too long.
6. What is your middle name? Lynn
7. What is your favorite food? Lately, sweet potatoes with lots of sugar and cinnamon
8. What foods do you dislike? Onions. I hate onions.
9. Your favorite Potato chip? The fresh made ones that can be kinda floppy that you get at places like Ham's served with Ranch dressing
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? I haven't bought a CD in who knows how long. But Brand New and Fall Out Boy would be at the top of the list if I had.
11. What kind of car do you drive?A Honda. It has a sunroof, and therefore I love it.
14 Favorite drink? Lately, chocolate milk. Or a caramel light Frappuccino from Starbucks.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Spain.
16.What color is your bathroom? Purple and Gold
17. Favorite brand of clothing? I don't really have one...but I suppose Polo, Gap, Banana Republic and American Eagle would be at the top.
18.Where would you retire? Long Island
19 Favorite time of day? Afternoon, after classes.
21. Favorite sport to watch? Baseball if the Yankees are playing. Football if Appstate is playing, or if it's the NFL playoffs. Basketball if Carolina is good that year, or if it's March. Track and Field, too.
22. Who do you least expect to send this back?
23. Person you expect to send it back first?
24. What laundry detergent do you use? Tide, usually
25. Coke or Pepsi? Pepsi
26. Are you a morning person or night owl?Night owl
27. What size shoe do you wear? 8.5-9
28. Do you have pets? My dog, the Fly girl
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with your friends? I'm considering ditching the belly button ring.
30. What (who) did you want to be when you were little? An astronaut, and then a fighter pilot (courtesy of Tom Cruise and Top Gun)
31. Favorite Candy Bar? Reese's
33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life? babysitter, basketball camp counselor, server to a couple different resturaunts, and doing everything at the gym on campus.
34. Favorite season? Summer
35. Nicknames you've had? Nat, THEnat, G-nat, natterscatter, LJ, peter pan
36. Piercings:Three. one in each ear, and bellybutton
37. Eye color:Brown
38. Ever been to Africa?No
39. Ever been toilet papering?No
40. Love someone so much it made you cry? yes.
41. Been in a car accident? yes
42. What's a question no one has ever asked you? "What's your favorite spanish obscenity?" The answer: Pinche Madre
43. Favorite day of the week? It's Friday, I'm in love.
44. Favorite restaurant? Razzoo's. Seriously. I'm quite the advocate of it.
45. Favorite flower? Tulips
46. Favorite ice cream? Edy's Mint chocolate chip, or their 1/2 the fat version of strawberry...it's SO good.
47. Disney or Warner Brothers? Warner Bros.
48. Favorite fast food restaurant? Jack in the Box.
49. What color is your bedroom carpet? Blue.
50. How many times did you fail your driver's test?Zero
51. Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail? The facebook. (You have a new friend request!) Ha. Just kidding Not really. I don't have any friends.
52. Which store would you choose to Max out your Credit Card? Best Buy.
53. What do you do most often when you are bored? Facebook. Watch movies. Annoy the dog.
54. Bedtime: On weekdays, before 11 hopefully. On weekends...anywhere from 9pm to 4am
56. Last person you went to dinner with? My roommate Caren, maybe?
57. Ford or Chevy? No preference.
58. What are you listening to right now? The tv on in the living room, some sort of vehicle outside that sounds strangely like a wave runner.
59. What is your favorite color? I don't really have one. I wear a lot of black and pink though.
60. Lake, Ocean or River? Ocean, even though I have a terrible, irrational fear of jellyfish.
61. How many tattoos do you have?None
62. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken
63. How many people are you sending this email to?The world via my blog.
64. Favorite Cocktail? cosmopolitan
65. Red or White wine? White lately
66. Where would you go for a girls or boys weekend get-a-way? Right now, I don't know, but I plan to go with a couple of the girls to Atlantic City when I turn 21 this June.
67. What do you want to be? Rich.
68. Republican or Democrat?Democrat
69. Favorite Family Vacation? Holden Beach, NC.

2006-01-16T01:47:00.001-05:00

It's 1:47 in the morning, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I'm watching Red Dragon, a sequal to Hannibal, which was preceded this evening by two episodes of Law and Order.

I'm thinking about death, and how I'll get mine, as morbid as it sounds. The past year, I've seen more of it than I'd like to have seen. But then, it's a part of life. Ironic; death a part of life.

My friend Arthur, planted a bullet in his own head this past summer. There was a party last year. I hadn't seen him in a long time. I hugged him, and went on about how much I missed him, because I was a little drunk. He knew it. He called me later, left me a message, asking if I was okay. He had Bridget track me down because he was worried about me.

My grandma died the day after Thanksgiving. The first year I didn't go home for Thanksgiving. I knew she wasn't doing well. Maybe she was holding on until I came home. Maybe she thought I'd be home, and then I didn't show. She always thought I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

I hope I go quick. Not like my grandma. She died long before the day after Thanksgiving. She stopped being able to recognize me. She would cry. She thought people were coming to get her. She thought people were coming to kill me.

I could go tonight. I could go next month. I could go in fifty years. I hope it's not in fifty years. I want to go before I go crazy.

I resolve...

2006-01-05T21:29:00.000-05:00

To write more for myself. To read one book for myself (required reading for classes don't count) each month. To avoid excessive sarcasm. To take more pride in my schoolwork. To appreciate each day for what it is, and stop looking forward to the future so much. To make good on the resolution that Meredith Witt suggested upon our trip to victoria's secret (which is a secret). To go to church more frequently. To get my digital camera fixed. Then to take more pictures.

Things I want to do when I'm home for Christmas

2005-12-05T23:33:00.000-05:00

-Smell my parents' house
-Eat at What-a-burger No. 13
-Play Tennis
-Bake cookies and other desserts with mom
-Wrap presents
-Decorate
-Ice Skate w/Mr. Furr
-4th annual Christmas Eve w/the Furr's
-Work @ the 'zoo and see everyone there
-Continue my latest running streak
-Buy People Presents, think up christmas surprises
-Play with Fly
-Write Christmas Cards
-Watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith
-Dates w/Ms. Jessika Marie
-Celebrate Ms. Holly Love's 21st B-day/New Years (Same day!)
-Raid the Nike outlet
-Race go-carts at nascar speedpark
-Maybe get some cool Christmas Presents
-See old friends
-Eat Mom's cooking (specifically her mushrooms, asparagus, sweet potatoes, and chocolate pudding pie)
-Watch lots of Sports on TV
-Smell Christmas Tree
-Enjoy sleeping in old bed, in old bright yellow room

yes, I do read the news on occasion

2005-10-10T19:59:00.000-04:00

There's a new trend in the writing world. Places like "Paragraph" and "The Village Quill" located in New York's Brooklyn and Manhatten claim to provide a sanctuary for those serious about their writing.

This was brought to my attention by an article in the New York Times. You can find it online at http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/09/fashion/sundaystyles/09writers.html

After spending 2 years on a waiting list, and the first check clears as part of your $100 a month membership fee, you've earned yourself a cubicle, desk, lamp, and that's-not-all!! A power strip in a building filled with others hoping to get themselves published.

I couldn't help thinking to myself, while perusing this article, about the place where I end up when I need to buckle down. However, my place one-up's those such as "Paragraph." No, I don't have my own personal power strip (one day...) but I do have access to computers, thousands of books to inspire me, copiers for all my, well, copying needs; and if that's not enough, high speed internet to find anything and everything via the world wide web.

If the writing spaces in New York are $100 a month, and this place is so much better...You may be asking yourself, "I know what kind of job she has, how can she afford such a lavish work-space? And where is this fabulous space?"

Well, my friend, today is your lucky day because I'm going to share with you my secret: the library. That's right, the public library. For the amazing price of FREE, you can get all of the things that these writing centers offer, and more (excuse the sounding like an infomercial).

I just can't fathom why people would spend so much money for something they can have for free.

well, it's 4am...guess I'll be going to bed now

2005-10-10T07:00:00.000-04:00

I think I'm nocturnal. I prefer going to bed very late at night, and waking up very late in the day. That being the case, I woke up at 2pm this afternoon after going to bed around 1am last night. I went to work around 4:30, came back around 6 hours later, and sat down to watch the rest of the Yankees game.

After that, I watched a movie, talked to some people on instant messager, took a long bath, took the dog out, and resumed my place in front of the television, still not tired.

Late night tv on Sundays is garbage anyways, and I'd seen all the movies on tv, so I wound up watching a program called "Best sex ever."

This was my first experience watching porn, which makes me feel kind of lame. Even so, I wasn't impressed. I didn't feel as if I'd been missing out on anything all that great. Why I've never watched it before? Not sure. Of course I was never exposed to it as a kid; that kind of thing is inappropriate. I've had other opportunities, but found excuses to look the other way, abashedly. But tonight, I thought to myself, bored but not the least bit sleepy, "I'm a mature adult," I should be able to watch "adult" programming. But it turned out the forbidden fruit wasn't so tasty after all. In fact, it's more like all of the Lent's that I've given up soft drinks, and after 40 days, when I can finally have a Mountain Dew, it's not as great as I remembered (that never fails to surprise me).

The basic idea was that some guys' girlfriend set him up with a tutor, but the lady wasn't really an English tutor like he thought. Perhaps I was watching the wrong porno, but the plot line was dumb. Maybe I'm missing the point completely...maybe it's just to watch people go at it repeatedly.

It's funny how watching something so dumb; or not watching it, rather, can make you feel lame. I could see myself watching porn again, yes. But only with others, because then it's funny.

Sometimes being apart can bring you together.

2005-10-08T20:46:00.000-04:00

When we're drunk together, we like to divulge the story of how our unlikely friendship came to be. In a "you're not going to believe this" tone, Jessika and I recite "We went to high school together, but we weren't even friends!" to whomever will listen to it.

It's true. We weren't enemies...but we never hung out together, and the only time I really talked to her was in ELPS class. I think we once did a group project together, along with Chief. We made a game that showed how the legal system works. We entitled it, "Don't drop the soap."

I started talking to her through AIM the summer after our freshman year of college, because she was a regular reader of my blog. I invited her to come up to a party my roommate and I were having and we've been friends ever since.

Whenever we get together, things are almost always wild; probably because alcohol is usually involved. That first night she came up to Boone with Holly and some other girls, it was an insane night. After a good bit of drinking, she and the other girls enjoyed updating my blog...it came out like this:

"JESSILA AND HOOLLY AND HEATHER AND ELIZABETH......sws the beswtgv ever11111111111111111111111111111..........................THIBOOXWE aND AT ITS OK BCV WE LOVRE ED BUYOYH IS HERE BUT WE ARE WASTD JB JKON ANF S BISWB jeswsika andn oi ,lopedceb i freaqkin love holly ND ELKIZ and hedatgger and IT ANDF ALSO N JHNJN BWE ARE IN BOONRE AMD WE LOVVE BOOZE AND ALCXOHOL SO IT IS OK....OHH, WE FEELING EAR RIGHT NOW FOR REALLLLLLLDIRTY. SOOOO BYE. .LICK MY CLITATTTT BIATCHHHH BUH BYE ISWA BUHG BYES WHART EWLSE....WE LOVE EVERYBODY DO STOP BYE AND SAY HELLO NATALIE IS THE BEST. DID WE MENTION 5LICK MY CLIT BUHHHH BYE BIATCHHHH.."

And another, like this:

Subject: drunk.
we have been drinkin since 7 and its been a spl3endid time. we went to tasco bell then me and hnolly took sme more sjhots. natalie has slme mighhty interesting friends. there is onennamed colin...whoopsl, i mean, cone, he is a freakin weidro. i mena ijust bheqard him sAY word.... what the hell? he tried t get me aned holly to dance with him and he took his shirt off like he was mother freakin nelly or ushern or some shit....i mean really, hes soooooo weird. i have learned about j.b. too....that he is holly and antalies soulmates, he has explained to me the extenet of this love. and i completle3y understand. maybe b/c we are drunk. i lost my cell phone for about an hour, and we finally found it it was in the trash can...crazy, huh/. i dont know how the fuck it ended up there....i think b/c i might be badass as well....well tiome to go drink some more water b/c i might vomit....byyyyyyyye.

We've had some really crazy times together since then. She came up to visit last fall a couple of times. Of course there was binge drinking involved. We took shots called "deep throat" and "chocolate cake". We signed a gourd at my friend Tyler's apt, and she wrote "Lickkkk my cliiaatt biiattch" (see above..). I rolled my ankle and fell down a hill, but couldn't remember the next morning and wondered why my ankle hurt so bad. I chipped her tooth on a 40 in a car on the way to a party. We made one of my friends take us to Wendy's in the middle of the night. And we made him order "Two times cheese" on our jr. bacon cheeseburgers.
"No, you can't say 'extra cheese', you have to say, 'TWO TIMES CHEESE'!"

I visited her a couple times this past spring at Pfeiffer, both were really wild...there was a hallway slip and slide with naked lacrosse players, there's an interesting video Boston has on his camera-phone, I wound up getting multiple hickeys on my neck...that boy was a biter! Fear not though, Jessika taught me the cure: a comb and toothpaste...the crazy thing was that it actually worked.

This summer we watched House of Wax together, clutching each other in fear. Afterwards, we helped check each other's back seats before getting in our cars, just in case someone was waiting there to turn us into wax figurines.

Together, we've marvelled at the fact that we never seem to have a crappy time together; even that one time where we walked to a party but it had already been broken up or something and by that time our feet hurt so bad. We were in such a bad mood when we sat down and waited in front of Domino's pizza for Jared and Eric. But we ended up having a fabulous time with them and the Matt's (Leonard and Blake).

I've been to Pfeiffer to visit her once already this year. It was fun, as always. She's supposed to be coming up for me and my roommate's halloween party/homecoming. It promises to be a good time.

It's funny, to us, that we were never friends in high school, since we're such great friends now. But I'm glad we are. Hopefully, there will be many more opportunities for us to tell our drunken story, about how, yes, we went to high school together, but that we weren't friends until after we'd both gone our separate ways.

This latest post inspired by JD

2005-10-06T17:46:00.000-04:00

...a fellow blogger, and fellow badass.

I get into spurts when I don't post for long periods of time. It's not that I haven't thought of things to write. I've gotten to where I'm constantly thinking of how I'll write about certain things as I'm living them.

I'm laying in the tanning bed, pretending I'm on vacation. I'm wishing I heard the ocean and was taking pictures of a baby running from the water on Fire Island. I'm hoping to myself that if I concentrate hard enough, I can really be there, checking out the lifeguard, timing my roll-over.

I'm laying in the tanning bed and thinking about how silly it is that I get sad knowing that it will be cold very soon. I won't want to take Fly running anymore. I'll miss seeing a patch of ice as I'm walking to the communication building, and I'll fall, but only hurt my pride. I'll write "Sailed away into a grey sky morning" (Guster lyrics) as my away message, and it will be applicable every day.

I'm laying in the tanning bed looking up at my reflection in the plexiglass, thinking I should be wearing those stupid goggles they give me, thinking I shouldn't have my eyes open since I'm not.

I'm furthering my chances of getting skin cancer, thinking that with the number of times I had sunburns as a kid, skin cancer is inevitable anyways, and I might as well be semi-tan now. Thinking of my grandma in the nursing home who doesn't recognize me anymore, remembering that I don't really want to live past 60 anyways.

I'm laying in the tanning bed thinking of how I'll write about all of this. I'm thinking of the way I'll describe the beach I pretend I'm laying on, deciding whether or not I'll write about how I felt like a stalker, taking a picture of a random kid on a beach. I'm debating whether or not I'll write about the rest of my reflection in the plexiglass. Will I write about my last visit with my Grandma at all? Do I really want to be Debbie Downer? Will that make me Debbie Downer, or will that make me a realist? I'm thinking how, chances are, I won't get around to writing any of it, because I don't write about 99% of the things I think about, though I plan to write it all.

I've started so many posts that I haven't finished. They didn't come out like I imagined it would, so I scrapped it all together. Many of these are the most important things. I start them but never finish. I'm still not a good enough writer for the important subjects; the things that I need to get right, that need to be perfect.

I'm sitting on my couch, thinking about what else I want to write about. I'm thinking about how people will read this one, and the other posts. I'm wondering whether they'll read them at all. I'm thinking about how I re-read my posts everytime I find out someone new has read them; trying to put myself in their shoes, wondering what they'd see in my writing. But that's another post...maybe.

Lately

2005-09-18T15:34:00.000-04:00

-I became a Mom. My baby is a white spotted, black and brown beagle mix. Caren and I named her Fly. She likes to steal the right side of the bed. She gets squeaky when I first get home from somewhere. She sleeps a lot. She's an attention whore and likes to make out. She lives for runs at state farm. We race sprints after our long jogs. Sometimes she beats me. Sometimes I beat her. She's weird and I love it. I call her Tits McGee, Baby, Baby-doll, Honeybun, Fruitcake, my little quesadilla, McFly, SuperFly, my little toaster oven (she's warm against my feet when we're in bed). We're in love.

-I got a new job. In addition to working at the gym, I serve rich old people at a resort in Blowing Rock named Chetola. It's pronounced Shitola. Meredith thinks its funny that I wear a cumberbun, weird arm things and a nametag.

-I had a "date" to the last cross country meet. A guy I met at the (drinking) library last week wanted to do something with me. So, I suggested the xc meet (safe, plenty of distractions). Nice guy. Boring though kinda had an awkward moment when he brought me back here. Fly didn't seem too into him (we took her with us).

-I had an assignment to do a profile for a journalism class. I ended up watching storytelling at an old general store 11 miles north of boone. A freelance writer who's written for the NYTimes and LATimes was there, doing a story on general stores. I got to talk to him about his story and my story and Boone. It was interesting and cool.

-I pulled a Ferris Bueller this past Tuesday, skipping my classes in favor of a run at State Farm with Super Fly, followed by a trip to Howard's Knob where I laid out in my sports bra until some guy whistled and asked if he could come lay down with me. "Umm no, it's kinda hot, I was just getting ready to get up actually." I then watched a movie, ate at Dos Amigos with my dos amigas, Mrrrmm and Kristen, followed by afore-mentioned storytelling and a new episode of Girlmore Girls (also w/mrrrmm and kristen) and work at the quinn. It was a really good day.

-I've taken baths. I never take baths (always showers). They're wonderful. The last time I took a bath, I had a glass of merlot while I soaked in my bubbles and imagined I was in a movie.

My friend, my right pinky.

2005-09-10T02:44:00.000-04:00

"Say what you mean and mean what you say"

If you really know me, you know that I can't do it verbally. You'd know that I'm the one always putting my foot in my mouth, and nothing ever comes out the way I want. It's why serious conversations make me fidgity. I know that when it comes down to it, I'm going to say the wrong thing, and there's no going back. There's no backspace button for conversation. Once it's out, that's it. You can recant what you said, but that doesn't change the fact that you said it. People will still remember you said it, even if you take it back. That's why I write. I'm usually far better getting a point across through a keyboard. I can read and re-read it and backspace, until it's what I want to say. My right pinky is my best friend when I'm writing, reaching up to the top corner of my keyboard, making things disappear forever, no-one the wiser but me.

Unfortunately, with the consumption of alcohol, I not only lose my ability to walk a straight line, but also to write something the way I want it to be read. I become careless and forego the re-reading, my best friend goes on vacation and things come out totally wrong. Given, I can still see what I meant, but I know no-one else could unless they really picked it apart. It makes me mad at someone else when I'm really mad at myself. I use hyperboles carelessly and inappropriately.
Unfortunately, like conversation, once you click the "publish post" button, and others choose to read it, the backspace button doesn't work anymore. Sure, I could delete what I wrote now, or revise it so it's actually like I wanted it to be; but still it's been read in the original form in which I wrote it. The drunken, sloppy, careless writing where it's the first thing that comes to mind. No time taken to say "is this what I meant?" or "Let's review this, and read it as if you're so and so. What would you be thinking?"

Martin Luther did not recant his 95 theses. Even if he had, would it have really mattered? He tacked it on that door in Wittenburg for all to read, changing things forever. Had he simply said at the Diet of Worms, so long ago, "I take it back," would anything have been different? After all, there was no erasing the minds of those who read it, no matter if he had wanted to (not suggesting he did, of course).

I could take it off of my site, as he could have untacked his accusations of the church. But, then again, why bother? The damage is done. If I could go back in time, that's not the only thing I'd do differently.
But then; "If if's and but's were cherries and nuts, we'd all have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year."

F.

2005-09-08T04:18:00.000-04:00

I might as well write it now. While I have the balls. I hate him. I hate how I can't forget about him. And I hate how I still want him despite all the things that he does to piss me off.

I'd be lying to myself if I said he actually cared about me. Deep down, I know he doesn't. But I'm the wishful thinker; I want to think I mean more than that...but let's be honest come'on. Pfffhh.

Get out of my mind. Get out of my head. I don't want to think about him anymore. I'm sick of it.

I want someone who wants me when they're sober. I want someone who knows that I like to sleep with my feet outside the covers, and on the right side, and loves me for it. I want someone who knows the hole in the middle of my forehead. I want you to be able to tell me what I said in my sleep last night. I want you to love my vices. I want you to give me your arm to hold onto in bed, because you know I'm used to holding onto a teddy bear when I go to sleep (but am breaking myself of that). I want you to play with me. To know that I need to have fun without drinking. That I need to race through parking lots. I need to race through parking lots. I need you to wake up beside me (on the left side).

And yet, I can't give up on him. And that's why I'm stupid: because I know better. I know better, even so, I keep trying. But the optimist in me says, "look, he says he misses you (even though he's drunk, no matter)"...so dumb Bah.

"It's like the end of an era..."

2005-08-29T19:18:00.000-04:00

It was the hardest decision I've ever made. Saying goodbye to something in which you've invested nearly half your life probably couldn't be easy. Since 7th grade, February has meant left turns in my running shoes, it's meant starting blocks and finish lines. Since the beginning of high school, it's meant looking at the vehicle height-clearance sign of drive-thru's and seeing more than Big Mac's; seeing a person jumping over it with just the aid of a fiberglass stick. It's meant, school, county, conference, region, and state records. It was practices outside in december for the "indoor" season. It was gymnastics the summer before my senior year. It was trips to Savannah and Virginia Beach for junior olympics. It was the first state championship, and feeling unbelievable pressure to do it again the next year. It was my parents' money for private lessons 2 weeks before that meet.

It was life for my first two years of college. It became a job. It became something I did because I should. Because I was obligated, because I felt like I was letting down the entirety of my little community back home if I didn't. Because they thought the world of me, and I thought the world of them too.

I don't know when it became something I resented. But I know I used to be excited about pole vaulting in high school. I couldn't wait until school got out so I could see what new drill we were doing in practice. I could see how high I could get today.

That excitement has gone. I stopped looking forward to pole vault practice, and instead dreaded going. I dreaded weights and running workouts. I didn't improve like I'd hoped. I grew tired and annoyed with wasting hours in the training room rehabilitating, just so I can go out and get hurt again. I've been injured more in the past two years than I have been in the rest of my life. I'm tired of being hurt.

I debated the whole summer, and never came to a conclusion. I've been stressed out beyond belief this past week. I have 18 credit hours this semester, including the likes of Microeconomics, and Hispanic Lit (which involves reading several spanish novels and short stories). It promises to be the hardest semester yet. Plus work. Plus track?
I needed to consider my future. Two years, tops left of track, and then what? Is it worth sacrificing my education, the rest of my entire life? I have no future in track. That is the reality. Ultimitely, I've decided that it's wasting my time.

So I quit. I walked into Coach Weaver's office, and I told him I wouldn't be doing track this year. He asked if it was about time issues, and I said yes, among other things. He thanked me for coming in, and wished me good luck. And that was that.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I left. I'm trying not to question my decision, and concentrate on all the possibilities it opened up. It means more time for school work. More time for a job. More time for naps. The opportunity to do whatever kind of workout I want to do for the rest of my life. The option to work out. It means never again having to hear the words "you need to get your plant down." The possibility of studying abroad. It was a good decision, yes. Good. Necessary. Wise. Prudent.

I was watching the end of Dodgeball with Caren when I got home. There's a part in the movie where Vince Vaughn's character runs into Lance Armstrong after deciding to quit dodgeball. Here's how the conversation goes down:

Peter La Fleur: Uh, actually I decided to quit... Lance.
Lance Armstrong: Quit? You know, once I was thinking of quitting when I was diagnosed with brain, lung and testicular cancer all at the same time. But with the love and support of my friends and family, I got back on the bike and won the Tour de France five times in a row. But I'm sure you have a good reason to quit. So what are you dying of that's keeping you from the finals?
Peter La Fleur: Right now it feels a little bit like... shame.
Lance Armstrong: Well, I guess if a person never quit when the going got tough, they wouldn't anything to regret for the rest of their life. Well good luck to you Peter. I'm sure this decision won't haunt you forever.

...that wasn't really all that reassuring. But ironic? Yes.

But it's 4:18, and I'm missing my appointment with the athletic trainer and orthopedist, I'm also missing the 40yd dash and 400 meter run testing. I don't really feel like I'm missing out at all though.

War Stories

2005-08-24T04:36:00.000-04:00

I was walking with a few of my teammates after physicals today. The red-headed thrower, Lilly, whom I can only remember seeing on crutches until earlier this afternoon. My roommate, Caren, and another thrower, Charlotte.

We were laughing about the way the trainers seemed to take note, "yep, you're still hurt" and send you on your way.

This is not to say they're not keeping the injured in the training room doing tedious rehab day in and out in efforts to get them better. They do. But it seems as if no-one ever does get better. You can come in but you can never leave. Like a graveyard. Or Hotel California.

I've noticed this phenomenon over my past two years here, at App. I've been injured more in the past two years than in the rest of my sports career. I consider it an extensive period of time, beginning as early as I could walk with basketball (however I also played 4 years of AAU softball, tennis for two years, volleyball for 4, soccer, gymnastics and 8 seasons of track including middle school, an indoor season and a summer of junior olympics)-I can't remember a time when I didn't play sports. Even so, I remember only the smallest of injuries (jammed fingers, a couple rolled ankles, shin splints) But since high school, I've spent a lot time in that training room, getting everything from a tape-job to dozens of cold whirlpools, to stem, to ultrasound on a variety of injuries (ankles, foot, legs, shoulder). I've gotten x-rays, MRI's, and have taken more drugs than the entirety of professional baseball. If there's treatment for injuries, I feel like I've probably done it.
But then, I've always thought that's just me, I'm spaztastic. As my dad would say "I'm cruisin for a bruisin" (although that was in a different context, of course).

But I noticed that it wasn't just me this past year on the bus going to the SoCon outdoor Championships. Anthony Greer sat to my right, a long linear scar running up his ankle, obviously because of some sort of surgery. Farther right sat Kristie, icing her shoulder that had been dislocated just weeks earlier (and yet she still competed in 7 events that weekend). I thought of Caroline who had scheduled ankle surgery for two weekends later to have plates removed that were protruding. Had she waited any longer, they probably would have come out on their own.

After the basic height, weight, pulse, blood pressure check; the trainer looked with curiosity at my right foot which turned an odd shade of brownish white and grew a bump over the summer. She said "I'll see you Monday at 4," as she jotted my name on a list to see the team orthopedist. "I just want to make sure the bone's not dying."

"Tonight never ends if we never go inside...

2005-08-18T07:42:00.000-04:00

...The moon is always full
Your calendar is always pinned on summertime"

I spent my first night in my new apartment last night, signaling the end of yet another summer. It wasn't at all what I expected, but then, when is anything? And isn't that what's wonderful about life anyway? Usually, anyways.

Not to say that the summer was flawless, far from it, but it definitely had its highlights.

I had a great job, for a resturaunt where I worked with really great people. I made some money, met a lot of interesting people, said the phrase "How ya'll are?" far more than I'd like to admit, and flirted with an old friend's older brother (and my older brother's old friend...funny how that works out) who happened to be working there with me. I developed a small collection of 25ish-50ish year old men's business cards. I said "no, we don't do pajama day anymore" a number of times. All in all, it was a good time, I hated to have to stop working there to come back to App.

I learned a little more spanish, courtesy of working with kitchen staff at the 'zoo. I learned a lot about cajun food (for example, "blackened" is not at all burnt...). I learned how to play a little bit of guitar, from my cousin and from Chief. I learned that I love bread pudding, if made properly. I learned to cook zuchini quiche (but apparently not to spell zuchini...?), and an awesome crumb cake.

I vaulted, I ran, I played tennis, I planted flowers, I layed on the beach, I found clams with my feet, I had a massage, I saw New York City (again...but still very cool), saw Atlantic City for the first time, I took lots of pictures, I rode go-carts with Seth at Nascar Speedpark (indoor AND outdoor), I played putt-putt there as well. I ran a 5k (and won my age group...on my b-day), I exited my teenage years, I went to Cootie Brown's with Caren

I saw the movies Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, House of Wax, Dark Water, Bewitched, Wedding Crashers, War of the Worlds, plus others probably..in theaters.
I read Shut the Door, Beer and Circus, Fast Track, Survivor, The funny thing is...
I watched a lot of yankees games and gilmore girls reruns

My car was rolled (and dozens of balloons stuck inside) by my loving co-workers my last day at work, Arthur died, my dad and I fought a lot, Jason moved to Atlanta.

I made promises to visit State, Charlotte, Pfeiffer, Chapel Hill and Razzoo's...promises were made by many to visit me.

...just in case you wondered what I've been up to all summer.

And today, among other things, I picked up my books for this semester from the bookstore.

"So long sweet summer
it's cold where you're going,
I hope that your heart's always warm"

Allow me to rant on this topic for a while...

2005-08-04T02:44:00.000-04:00

Since when is it not okay to be single? Isn't it possible that I could be okay without a boyfriend? That I don't waste my time endlessly searching for my "other half"?

I was asked, once again tonight, "Do you have a boyfriend?" by my waiter tonight. Apparently, I have yet to figure out to just lie and say "yes" when I'm not interested. I've never been good put on the spot like that. And inevitably, and completely predictably, comes the follow-up, "Why not?"

Why do I have to have a reason to be single? I've heard that question more than I'd care to say this summer. As if to say, "There must be something wrong with you to not have a boyfriend! ...Freak!"

The first thing that came to mind, tonight was, "I don't know... I'm busy..."

The truth being a variety of reasons, I suppose, but why should I have to defend myself?!? After all, it's the 21st century! Women aren't all Scarlet Johansen's, helpless without their dear Rhett Butler to take care of them. I'm okay without a boyfriend! Even though I'm old enough to realize that I can take care of myself, I'm still young enough to be picky about the type of guy I want in my life. I'm not going to settle for just anyone.

Maybe I'd be more concerned about the fact that I don't have a boyfriend if I was planning on being a homemaker. But I'm not going to be dependent on a man for money, so it's okay that I'm not even thinking about settling down.

Yep, I probably do get commitment-phobic (my longest relationship thus far being just short of 4 months)...so that probably plays into the no-boyfriend thing too.

I'm considering actually boycotting boyfriends, just because people can't seem to fathom why I wouldn't have a boyfriend.

That way, when I get that inevitable "Why not?"..I can say that I'm boycotting boyfriends "because of people like you."

Or, maybe I'll just start telling people I have syphillis or herpes. Especially those I probably won't ever see again, because really that'd just be fun.

The garden state?...I see no gardens in atlantic city...

2005-07-11T02:16:00.000-04:00

I find it really strange how, in the south, most northerners I run into assume I don't originate from the area; but in the north, my accent is equivalent to that of Peggy Hill.

A Jersey native I met 20 minutes prior told me he was as much a fan of my accent as he was of football, as he worked his thumbs up my spine. He one day aspires to be doing the same for 300lb men because of this passion for the sport.

I wondered to myself at some point during my hour and 5 minute conversation whether my ass crack was visible. Ultimately, I decided that Paul would fix it for me if indeed it was, and if it bothered him enough. He considers himself a professional, after all. I assumed, as a professional, he's seen plenty of ass cracks. I probably would have been really uncomfortable with the whole situation had he not had such a good personality, and cracked jokes, and was quiet like I expected.

He tells me that he has to watch himself, and to remember where he is; otherwise, he might end up thinking he's in a bar, eating peanuts, and the conversation could go in the wrong direction. Actually we talked about everything. Me with my southern accent, talking to the floor through the padded hole in the table. We went from how "all my friends are getting engaged and married, and I don't see me doing that for a good while" to "No, I don't have a boyfriend" to "No, that kink in my back probably isn't from that last 1 month relationship because that was a long time ago." He couldn't fathom how I could stay single for so long.

meh, I guess I'm just good like that.

"No wonder you needed a massage so bad, no guy's had his hands on you for so long"
Ouch. Yeah, he went there, and we both laughed.

I learned he recently broke up with his girlfriend of 4 years who is moving back to Minnesota Sept. 12th. They still live together and it drives him crazy when she leaves her clothes on the bathroom floor after showering.

I wondered to myself whether jiggling each butt cheek (with sheet in between) was really part of the gerneral procedure, because it seemed a little odd to me. I decided not to question his professionalism as I choked back a giggle.

We talked about Top Gun after discussing his thoughts about entering the navy. We talked about drinking and what kind of tolerance I had. We talked about his preference of merlot to beer, except when with "the guys." He said we'd do Top Gun and merlot if I ever came back into town.

It surprised me to have enjoyed the conversation as much as I enjoyed the extra fifteen minutes of massage I got because he lost track of time. Or as much as the drunk feeling I got when I walked over to get my robe after he left the room and waited to escort me into the bright lights of the lockerroom of the spa in the casino. Or as much as the free apple juice.

Note to self: schedule swedish massages far more often.

"Start spreading the news.."

2005-07-03T18:17:00.000-04:00

A vacation with your family is an oxymoron, I've decided. Jumbo shrimp. Family vacation. Yeh.

Most of the time it's my family from which I need a vacation. Instead, I decided it would be a good idea to take a 12 hour road trip in close quarters (I wouldn't exactly call a civic coupe a comfortable passenger car for long trips) with my brother and mother to stay with my Aunt and Uncle. Usually the ride up with my mom isn't a problem; but Jason hadn't come with us in quite a while, and, of course he has to make an issue out of everything and make everything ten times more difficult.

But I made it...somehow. Traffic was decent until switched and I started driving mid-Pennsylvania, where it was terrible.

Somehow I managed to sneak away from all of the old folks and go to the beach for a while yesterday. They're all pretty hesitant about letting me do anything on my own. My aunt Judy was there once I got back and voiced her surprise about hearing I had gone to the beach "...All by herself!?!?!?...I didn't even know she had her license."
Yeh, you're about 4 years late on that one. But the beach was really nice. It was great to have some time to myself, even if I was surrounded by hundreds of strangers. I did some reading, watched people, layed in the sun. Loved it. I didn't get in the water because it wasn't really hot enough out to subject myself of the cold water of New York beaches, but still, a good time was had by all. All being me; myself, and I. We had a good time.

My uncle Rick arrived from upstate last night with his dog (which is pretty well behaved and mannered except for the fact that it stares up at you when you have food in your hand and makes you feel guilty about not sharing). He keeps the jokes that are not funny at all coming, regarding my age.
"How old are you?"
"20"
"You're not old enough to be going out," as I prepared to go out with my cousin and his friend Bill (who bares and amazing resemblance to John Qusack-the actor in America's Sweethearts) around 10ish.

The coffee house we visited was not my normal scene, but it was still entertaining and got me away from the ridicule of the elders. We drank root beer floats and discussed aliens and why they choose to implant people with devices. The conversation, as you can imagine, was pretty wild and out there, but it was refreshing.

I really like to just watch people, and listen in on their conversations. Maybe that's weird and semi-stalkerish, but I think it's really interesting. I enjoyed doing that at the beach also. Last night at this coffee house, two guys were sitting talking about the art of Zen. I imagined these two would like Boone a lot, and the people who owned the coffee shop (which sells natural, healthy ingredients and soy, and vegetarian items) would probably like that organic health food supermarket that's on king street.

This morning, my uncle Rick comments..."you're not old enough to be drinking coffee"
I gave him a look that I intended to say "I really hope you're kidding, even though that's not even mildly funny."
But that's all it was, a look; because at 8:30 in the morning (after coming in from my coffee house outing only 5 hours prior), pre-coffee, that's pretty much all I can muster in the way of unpleasant comebacks.

Today all of us went on my uncle's boat and went clamming, which was pretty okay. It's an interesting concept, looking for food with your feet. I accidentally grabbed hold of a crab and chucked it a few feet away, thinking it was an empty shell or something, but then noticed what I had thrown and that was the end of clamming for me. Tonight my uncle is "barbecuing," which has a totally different implication up north than down south. Here, from what I understand, a barbecue doesn't necessarily have anything to do with pulled pork or ribs. He's a really good cook, which you could probably guess by looking at my aunt and uncle. Meals are a pretty big deal when we come up. Lobster, Bud-butt chicken, prime rib, congo squares, pastries. The food supply is endless and wonderful and unhealthy, and they always want you to eat it. Example:
Jason: "May I have half another pork chop?"
Aunt Karen: "No, you may have a whole pork chop"
Jason: "But I really only want half a pork chop."
Aunt Karen: "You may have a whole pork chop."
Of course, this all goes down jokingly, but still, the pressure's on.

I hope all this dinner madness goes down shortly so I have time to let my food settle and then go on the longest run ever. I'm excited about the prospect of looking at all the shops of downtown lindenhurst. And about the prospect of getting away from my own DNA for a while.

Tomorrow is looking like possibly a trip to the race track, which will be fun. After that, more family will arrive and we'll all eat an obscene amount and I guess watch fireworks or something. I doubt there'll be time to hit the beach tomorrow...possibly the next day, if we're not shopping.

I think wednesday my mom and brother wanted to go to atlantic city, so I should be able to lay out on the beach there while they're losing money to the casinos. Check out the boardwalk, that kind of thing. I've never been to the Jersey shore. Apparently it's sort of a big deal, so I guess maybe I'll see what all the fuss is about.

So that's been my vacation, thus far. It's really been pretty good, minus the relatives being annoying at times. More details to come later, I'm sure.

She needs wide open spaces, room to make her big mistakes

2005-06-29T05:44:00.000-04:00

I wonder when I'll finally escape the clutches of my parents' tyranny. Maybe you'd say I was spoiled because my parents pay for my stuff, but it's not free, no, it comes with a price.

I'd prefer making a car payment to them every month in lieu of having them use that as leverage in every argument. "We don't owe you anything! You don't have to have a car you know!"

I'm so sick of having to hear about that everytime there's an argument. I've offered to make payments for that, but they've blown it off. Honestly, I think they'd rather have that to hang over my head.

They still think I'm 10, my parents. I'm always incapable of taking care of myself, making my own decisions.
I'm getting too old to have an escort to cross the street, and it's really getting to me.

I want to make my own decisions! I want to make mistakes, be irresponsible and fall on my face, and then I want to get back up all by myself.

I want to stay up all night if I'm not tired. I want to eat desert before dinner. I want to take a road trip on the spur of the moment. I want to go running in the middle of the night (with scissors in my hands!). I want to stay out until 4 in the morning without having call my cell phone wondering where I am!

Why can't they see that I've got it all under control? I'm okay, and I'm going to be okay.
I'm okay at school 9 months out of the year, doing things how I want to do them, and, so long as I'm not getting in your way while I'm here, why is that a problem?

I want to learn life's lessons for myself. I don't want to be protected (prevented) from them. Otherwise, what kind of a life is it?

I feel very much like I'm too old for this, all this..wanting to rebel, and all that jazz. And yet, I feel an intense desire to get something pierced, or to just do all things immature, just to spite them.

From a legal standpoint, being 20, the government trusts me to purchase cigarettes, fight for my country, have a credit card, drive a car, get married, have a job, distribute alcohol...the list goes on. And yet, from my parents' standpoint, I'm incapable of everything from choosing a good workplace to deciding what time I should call it a night.

To quote Billy Joel, "I don't care what you say anymore cause I'm alright, go ahead with your own life, leave me alone."

It's all about the benjamins, baby.

2005-06-24T02:22:00.000-04:00

I'm an extreemist. I'm all or nothing, do or die, go hard or go home. I'm whimsical, too. Call me Veruca Salt, because I want the golden goose, and I want it now.

Lately I'm a workaholic.

Among the clever, annoying phrases my parents throw my way, one of the more frequent is, "Natalie, you have a champagne appetite and a beer income." Unfortunately, they couldn't be more right.

I've been making more money this summer than ever, and, unlike the majority of my coworkers, I'm don't have rent or a car payment to make, no bills to pay, so everything is pocketed, minus gas money. Some of it I've saved, most of it I've spent, half of it on who-knows-what. But the day of mommy and daddy's wallet closing rapidly approaches. I'm pretty sure it'll occur once I get my undergraduate degree. Then what?

My job during the school year provides me with just enough to pay for the smaller wants and needs: a shirt here, dinner there, maybe a new purse. But at my current job, I could make more money in a three-day weekend than I would working at the gym at school in a month.

But money to me is crack; the more I have, the more I need. I love having money. So much that I'm seriously considering dropping my Journalism major all together (everyone knows there's no dinero in journalism), and just going full steem ahead with my other major; advertising. So much that I've thought of quitting if just to have more time to work. So much that I thought about for-going the trip to NY I've been excited about since last year's trip.
My "champagne appetite" is such that I've considered getting a second job, but then I don't know how I'd fit it in my schedule, seeing that my schedule at my current job varies from week to week.

There are other possibilities I considered to get my fix. I thought briefly about stripping but then there were several issues with that. I'd have to lose probably about 20lbs, and somehow gain at least 5 of it back in my boobs. Then, there's the thought of running into someone I know, plus I'm pretty self-concious, plus I don't know how to strip, plus I care about what others think about me a lot. Self respect: not so much of an issue.

There was selling drugs, but I'm just guessing that wouldn't work out too well for a variety of reasons.

So I'm still thinking.

Right now, I see a soundtrack for summer surfacing. The most applicable lyrics: "The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees. I want money...that's what I want."

more work info

2005-06-09T01:00:00.000-04:00

At first I threw them out. But it seems popular for men to come equipped with their business cards, and after talking with me (because I'm apparently Miss Approachable all of a sudden), hand it to me with a "well if you're ever in such-and-such a town, call me up." So I think I'm going to start saving them. I might end up with quite a collection by the end of the summer.

Today it was one from a NASA technician here for a wedding from Houston, TX, promising front row seats to the Astros. He wasn't my table, but got my attention after watching me clean my tables (getting ready to leave) and saying "you missed one, this one needs cleaning."
"Seriously?"
"No I just wanted you to come over here to talk to us"
After I told him I once wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, he replied "nooo you don't want to be an astronaut, I have to deal with them every day...none of them are cute so you wouldn't fit in"

So there's that one, and one from this guy from Mooresville. Some record company or something. This one was handed with "well if you're ever in mooresville, stop by." And I think to myself, "why?"
I was sharing with one of the girls that works with me and she voiced what I was thinking, "yeah, stop by, we'll have some sex, maybe a cup of coffee."

Pffhhh. Keep in mind, if you're an old man, hitting on a waitress 10 years younger than you, she thinks you're wierd, but she's being nice because it's her job.

I've heard some lame pick up lines, too. Last night, it was, "well what are you in school for?"
"I'm majoring in journalism and advertising"
"well you advertise really well..."

Lots of race teams come in, being that the area is pretty much NASCAR central. One group of guys was talking to me, one night, a bit tipsy, one married the other two divorced. They wanted me to come sit in the infield with them in the pits during the Busch race last week. Luckily, I had to work....

But it's entertaining anyways, my job. We'll see how many business cards I collect by the end of the summer. Success is all about connections anyways, or something like that, right?

Maybe this is not the kind of connection they're talking about, where if you do decide to call one of the numbers, you can't ask for a favor, without expecting a favor in return. Eww.

Also today, I had a table of ten guys, all older except for one, who looked to be about my age. About half-way through their meal, another girl that works there says to me, "Do you know who that is you're waiting on?"
"No..."
"That's Reed Sorenson."
"Okayy....," not knowing who she's talking about
"He's a nascar Busch series driver"
"Oh."

So, I guess if you're into racing you may have heard of him. He was the younger one at the table. Me, I'm not into racing, so unless Dale Jr. or Jeff Gordon shows up, I'm probably not going to recognize them.

Anyways, I didn't make an ass out of myself in front of this (apparently really loaded) guy my age that drives cars really fast for a living. So I guess that's good.

Any guy that comes in within the 25-35 age range that sits by himself tips well. You sit with him for a second, make small talk, "where are you from?", call him by his name.

Guys are easy. Families are easy. Gay guys are easy. Couples are easy. But couples or groups of girls (my age-ish) are the worst. Why? Because they usually don't eat a whole lot, but want a bazillion sauces or lime in their diet coke.

I can't talk to girls most of the time. I'm intimidated, I'll admit it. Luckily, it's mostly guys that come in.

My place of business

2005-06-03T14:58:00.000-04:00

So I know you've probably been wondering what my new job is like, and after the first couple of weeks, I think I've got a handle on it.

Probably 90% of the servers are girls...most very pretty. I thought this was a little strange at first, but not really any more.

We're not allowed to wear our hair up. If you know me, you probably have an idea of how much this rule annoys me. It's part of being "date ready." That's the terminology they use to describe how you should look at work.

Not long before I started working there, two of the managers were fired; one because he was convicted of rape, the other because she was his wife. So corporate people showed up, changes were made, and none of the perverted old men that frequent the place seem too pleased about it. Here's why:

Thursday, which used to be pajama day, is now nascar day. Now, from what I've heard, it wasn't so much pajama day as "wear your underwear to work" day. I couldn't say how many apologies I've had to offer to gaggles of men on thursdays. All of the girls that work there are pretty upset about it too, because everyone made a lot of money on pajama day.

Tuesdays is "two-stepping tuesday" which looks to take the place of pajama thursdays, because many of the servers wear short skirts and cowboy boots.

Being that it's a cajun Louisiana-ish resturaunt, Mardi Gras has been crazy in previous years. When I say crazy, I mean waitresses wearing lingerie dancing on the bar (making $300 that night), tubs of beer out front, blocking off the parking lot crazy.

Needless to say, it wasn't really a family oriented resturaunt. The corporate people there are trying to make it more kid-friendly I suppose. Sex sells, people...

Proper phone procedure is to answer the phone "Razzoo's! How ya'll are!?!?" No typo there. Seriously...call it. My friend Will did, in disbelief. He was shocked, I think.

Of all of this I was unaware when I first signed on...but I don't want to make it sound like a bad place to work.

We have really good food, and perverted men tip pretty well usually. Thursdays are still really busy, at least until everyone figures out that no, it's not pajama day anymore. I don't have to wear anything dumb...well, except on thursdays when my Dale Jr. t-shirt is donned (woooo NASCAR!!!). But that is offset by the fact that I get to wear tennis shoes on Thursdays too, which is goooood. Tuesdays it's pretty much anything that looks cowboy-ish or country. Other than that it's a Razzoo's t-shirt and jeans. I'm a fan.

So that's where/how I've been spending my days thus far this summer...and where you can find me until August-ish...come by, see me...order some gator tail (yes, gator tail and fried pickles are two of the items on our menu) and some bread pudding. Because our bread pudding is incredible.

still kickin

2005-05-25T03:02:00.000-04:00

There is a microwave on the island in my kitchen that's older than I am; no exaggeration there. It has a sticker saying July 1982 on the back of it. My parents have been waiting for it to die since we moved into this house when I was in second grade.

There's another microwave that came with the house, it hangs above the stove. Dad gets soo annoyed when I use that microwave, because he wants the other microwave to break first. I don't see why they don't just throw it out or sell it or give it to charity or something. Although, it does come in kind of handy when you need to microwave two things at once.

But I was reheating my coffee this morning and an odd noise starting coming from the ancient machine. I wondered if one day I'll find that I'm unable to reproduce as a result of the 23 year-old machine inconspicuously shooting gamma rays in the general direction of my ovaries.

But hey, kudos to Amana for making a product with such a will to live.

2005-05-24T02:52:00.000-04:00

I'm gonna soak up the sun.

2005-05-23T03:54:00.000-04:00

I've gotten into the kind of routine I'd been waiting for all school year. The predictability is wonderful. I love summer. Wake up, maybe run, lay out, go to work, run if I didn't before, go to bed. Maybe I should find it boring, but I don't. I love it.

I love not having to go to class, or do schoolwork, or go to my job at the quinn that is boring as hell and doesn't make me near the money my job this summer does. I love not having to practice at any given time, or having to do a workout I find pointless and unfullfilling, as pole vault "workouts" tend to be (referring to the "running" we do).

I love running at night, when it's cool, and my feet don't get hot. I'm working on my running form, by looking at my shadow that passes me by while I run past streetlights. I see my shoulders and try to keep them low. Pole vaulting had me in a habit of running with them up, not relaxed. I think I've almost got that fixed. I'm working a little on not bouncing so much, keeping everything in more of a forward motion, less up and down. It's easy to run at night, the sun not getting a chance to drain my energy.

I love working at Razzoo's where the kitchen people were surprised to learn that I understood what they were saying to each other, and could respond in their vernacular (spanish).
I love the word vernacular.

I love having time to lay out and piddle around.
I love running into old friends at random places.
I love country people around here, especially race fans. Ha.
I love sitting in traffic, and some guy yells over from a truck beside me, "hey beautiful!"
I love reading for the sake of reading.

I love summer. For real.

...but then, that's because I know it won't last forever, and I'll go back to Boone and to school in august, and by then, I'll be ready to. But summer is preparation for all that. Unstressful preparation. Make money, be in shape, enjoying not having a billion obligations at once; soaking it up. Once school starts back it's an 18 or 21 credit hour semester, 6 am lifting, tedious sprint "workouts" that don't work me out at all, and two-hour segments working at the quinn that feel like 5 hours.

I'm getting enough sun to last me all winter this summer. Maybe I'll get skin cancer later in life; Boone winters are long.

my laziness comes back to get me once again

2005-05-15T01:14:00.000-04:00

My room has been a disaster area since I came home from school somewhere over a week ago. That's no hyperbole, either. I literally couldn't see my floor. I never unpacked everything from school. And things have only exited boxes and suitcases if I've needed them.

I should have known that it's been driving my mom crazy, and that the second she got a free hour or two, she'd do something about it, because she knows it would probably stay that way all summer if she didn't. I should have known.

I came home from work today to find my room immaculate. Normally, the only thing about that that would bother me is that she never puts anything where I like to have them, and I can't ever find what I need. But, I had brought a case of beer home with me, and shoved it haphazardly on my closet floor among a pile of clothes. You may be asking yourself, "Why did you bring a case of beer home with you, Natalie?" Well, I had originally planned to do some serious binge drinking at school the night before I came home. But I ended up falling asleep at around 10. So I woke up in the morning with a full case of brewski by my side. No, I'm going to throw that away.

I got home and stuck the box half-way inside my closet for lack of a better storage area.

Not surprisingly, when I arrived home today, and discovered my room clean, I also discovered my closet beer-less. Blast. Mom stole my beer.

Upon further examination of the house (I was alone at this point), I found it sitting next to the fridge, intended for my dad. But he doesn't usually drink Miller Lite and probably thought it odd for Mom to buy that for him. I wondered how long it would take someone to say something about the unusual choice of beverage beside our fridge.

Dinner time.
Dad to Mom: Did you pick up that beer at the store?
Mom: No.
Dad: Well where did it come from?
(5 second pause.)
Me: I brought it home from school.
(15 second pause, Dad glances at Mom)
Dad: You're drinking beer now?
Me, glancing up from my chicken lo-mein: On occasion.
Dad: Are you 21?
Me, debating to myself whether this was a rhetorical question, because he's asked me how old I am before: I'm not surprised you don't know the answer to that, that I'm not.
Dad, lying: It was rhetorical.

And that was pretty much the extent of the conversation. Jason once used his fake ID to buy beer in a restaurant in my Mom's presence, and all she did was look stunned for a couple of seconds. I think this is kind of the same.

Mom has known I drink for a while. I've told her. I've drunken dialed her for Pete's sake. I told her I was hungover that day at the beach over spring break. But this is the first time she's ever seen alcohol in my room.

Dad, was clueless though. Blissfully naive is maybe a better way of putting it. He probably has had an idea that I drink, but, so long as there was no proof, he could kid himself about it.

But I think they know it's a battle they won't win if they pick it (me drinking). I don't think it's that big of a deal anyway. It's not a regular thing, it doesn't interfere with anything (school, work, track, etc), I don't drink and drive, I'm fairly smart about it. And I'll be of legal drinking age in a little over a year, so, no, I don't think it's a big deal at all.

2005-05-14T15:29:00.000-04:00

No, I didn't go to my brother's graduation. So, I'm the worst sister ever, okay. Honestly, I didn't really think he'd care. He has never cared before whether or not I was in attendance of any of his other important events.

It would have been the third graduation of his I've been to. Last year I went to Chapel Hill when he got his Bachelor's Degree. Of course, I saw him get his high school dipoloma.

I'd taken of work, planning to go. But my dad and I had a world war III the day before yesterday, and I really couldn't stand the thought of spending more than 2 minutes in the same room as him, much less 4 hours in a car to and from Chapel Hill, plus however long we'd stay there. So I decided not to go. I didn't honestly think Jason would really care one way or another if I came.

He IM's me tonight, with this:
Jason: so thanks for missing the most important day of my life
Me: don't pretend you missed having me there
Jason: i guess you had more important things to do

I think he's just trying to make me feel bad, honestly. It probably just now occurred to him that I wasn't there. So I missed his third graduation (2nd in two years)...it's not like it was his wedding. Am I missing the reason why it was such a big deal? Feedback (leave a comment)...please...I would think the undergrad graduation would be a bigger deal than the master's thing, considering the undergrad took four years, and this just took him one...Any thoughts?

My active imagination gets the best of me once again

2005-05-13T15:03:00.000-04:00

First date of the summer (may very well be one of few) last night with Jessika-the Paris to my Nicole-Marie. Love her. There were a lot of insane away messages throughout the day in anticipation of the event "laying out to get a tan for my hot date tonight", "getting ready for an insanely hot date with Natty Ice....don't wait up (with a winky face inserted here ;-) )" "Hot Date...with Jessika Marie....we're going all the way.....to Concord Mills to watch a movie and pick up nerdy boys that do dance dance revolution"

So we met there and, after a cell phone-parking lot discussion ("Where did you park?" "I don't see you!" "No look to your right" "Oh okay there you are"), we entered and found we were a little early yet. We meandered through nearby stores, more searching for nerdy kids to make fun of than for something to purchase, but unfortunately, there were none to be found. Damn schoolnights. We saw House of Wax. Jessika and I held hands. Okay, not really. Actually I had a death grip on her arm and she had one on my hand. Yeah, we were scared. There were points when both of us weren't watching at all. I was fiddling with my bracelet on my right arm, concentrating on it. It's just a movie, Natalie. You're rediculous. Twirling the bracelet around and around...trying my ring on each finger. Pretty good movie, but I was effing scared. I'm not going to lie.

Jessika and I checked her backseat and under her car before she drove me (not 50 meters) to mine, because neither of us wanted to walk alone. I almost got scared when I saw something in my backseat before opening the door, and then I saw it was the gym bag I still haven't unpacked from getting home over a week ago. Serves me right, I suppose. That's what I get for my slothfulness.

It was the longest, darkest drive home. My hometown seemed more eerie than usual, and my house is scary, I noticed, when no-one is home. I turned on lights pronto, and the tv too...quiet is scary.

Jessika had mentioned, as we were leaving, "This is why we need guys, to protect us." I thought, yes, while I might have felt slightly more safe, I would have felt way more stupid, because I guess they don't get scared or whatever, and, in all my past experience, think I'm stupid for being scared of things like that.

Jessika and I agreed we should have gone to see a comedy, and that we won't be seeing any more scary movies for a while.

My worst decision, yesterday, was to put off my running workout. "I'll do it after I get back," I told myself. Wrong-o. I couldn't. I would have. Really. But it was dark, and I was worried about a maniac grabbing me and turning me into a wax person.

So today, I have two workouts to do. Yipee.

me? I'm a student, and...well...I don't know what else...

2005-05-11T15:21:00.000-04:00

I wonder, at what point we have the right to give ourselves a title. What qualifies us as being one thing or another? How long is it that we have to spend drawing or painting or sculpting to make us an artist? Or is it the necessity being good at drawing, painting or sculpting? Perhaps it's the necessity of selling your art?

I write, sometimes. But then, we all do. It's an absolute necessity of student-life. We write short-stories, reviews, critiques, theses. That doesn't make us writers, necessarily. I don't consider myself a writer, even though I probably compose more paragraphs than most on this blog alone, forget the things scattered in random notebooks around my room.

This past year, I long jumped, high jumped, hurdled, threw shot put and javelin, ran some sprints, ran some mid-distance...did a little of everything, really. But I wouldn't dare tell people I'm a long jumper, or a high jumper, or a thrower, etc.

What got me thinking about this was an interesting instant message conversation I had last night. It was with someone I don't know very well, so there were a lot of random facts about each other exchanged, and he mentioned he was "a runner." Now this interested me, because, well I know a lot of people that I would consider to be "runners," but very few that are still in high school, as this one is (I haven't met too many high school people serious about running; most do it to stay in shape for something else). I pressed a little to hear that he runs the mile and yet doesn't know his time in it because he hasn't run it in a while, and he didn't understand the significance of the abbreviation "XC", which most "runners" I would think of would consider a major part of their life. Not to say this doesn't make him a runner, I guess. Who am I to judge who is a "runner" and who isn't?

But it seems to me that the term "runner," in my eyes has become far more defined over the years. I run. Moreso now than ever. But I don't consider myself a runner. I don't even consider people who do sprints runners. They run (really fast, too). My definition of "runner" has become much like that of Runner's World (running magazine). They don't even address sprints. I wondered about this in high school, when I thought I was a runner, because I did track. But now, when I think about a runner, I think of this guy I know that runs track at Furman. His workouts this summer will consist of 90 miles a week, including an 18 mile run on Sundays. That's the extreme of course. But a runner is that old guy that you see in short shorts running around your town every day. It's the cross country people you see around Boone during the school year, logging milage in the sleet/snow/freezing rain. They run on a regular basis, for an extended period of time.

While I have been doing that lately...it's just been a little while since I started all that madness. So, no, I'm not a runner. Plus I think you have to be good at that sort of thing, too....and I'm not (yet, at least).

even onions can be good sometimes.

2005-05-10T02:58:00.000-04:00

I don't want what I want. There are lists upon lists of things that I want, in life, in a guy, in a breakfast burrito. But it's never enough to just get what I want.

Things turn out better when I get what I'm not looking for.

I walked into the cafeteria a couple of weeks ago in search of bacon, eggs, and cheese, wrapped in a tortilla. When I bit into the burrito after sitting down, I was surprised to discover two things I wasn't expecting: salsa and sour cream. I had neglected to notice these were included in the burrito, a pleasant surprise. Had I gotten what I was looking for, it would have been okay. But I ended up liking something I would never have imagined would go well with bacon, eggs, and cheese.

Heath was a bacon, egg, and cheese burrito when we went out, forever ago; just what I'd ordered. I couldn't have imagined any way for him to be better. He was smart, nice, cute, athletic....would have passed any list of qualifications I could name for a guy I'd want. That was the downfall. It drove me crazy that I couldn't make him mad, that we never fought ever. That there was never a reason I could be mad at him. Too perfect. That's Seth, too. A barrel-full of wonderful. It drives me insane that I can't want what I want.

No, what always seems to work for me is something I'm not looking for at all. It's the salsa in my breakfast burrito: though I hate onions, somehow, it's good anyway.

This could end up being a very long summer indeed

2005-05-10T02:12:00.000-04:00

...and that's not necessarily a good thing.

I've been looking forward to summer for a long time. Actually probably since two weeks after the school year started.

But I was looking forward to not having schoolwork and track practice taking up all of my time. Instead, I'm stuck listening to my dad bitch about everything that I do wrong or not at all. It's hard to go back to living with parents after not having to deal with their crap all year.

I may never understand why they feel the need for me to tell them where I'm going, when I'll be back, etc. now (when I'm home); when during the entire school year, they have no clue where the hell I am. I actually observed this phenomenon earlier in the school year, maybe after fall break. I called my Mom from my dorm room as I was getting ready (just to be a smartass really) and said "hey, you know I'm going out with caren and the girls and I don't really know if I'm going to make it back tonight, and if I do, it won't be until very late." I should have thrown in somewhere, "...and I don't know if I'll be alone, fully clothed, or able to stand up straight when I do get back." Really, what's she going to tell me, "you can't go out"? Ha.

I didn't make it a week before I'm ready to go back to school. Back TO school, not be back IN school, let's make that clarification. I don't miss the schoolwork, or the track practice just yet, but I do miss the independence.

Hopefully I'll find something to distract me or keep me away from home so that I don't have to deal with all that. Hopefully I'll get a lot of hours at my job for that purpose.

But I'm going to start getting up early in the mornings, so I can enjoy the house while it's quiet. It's really good to have the house to myself though. I took Alanis Morisette's recommendation this morning and did, in fact, walk around naked in my living room. Buuut, it was a little chilly. I did some gardening, got yet another sunburn on my back. After that, I was hot and tired, and didn't feel like running. I learned my lesson. Tomorrow, I'll run first.

It's 11:11. My wish--> good news in the mail tomorrow. I've been waiting for something to get here for a long time, and I have reason to believe the suspence will be ended in the next couple of days.

How long is always anyways?

2005-05-08T02:06:00.000-04:00

Since when does "always" mean the next twenty minutes?
"Natalie, I'll always love you," "You'll always be my princess"
Pfffhhh. What a load. And yet that's the wishful thinker in me...always wanting to believe it. The boys know what I want to hear and I eat it up, never stopping to question sincerity.

I just always assume others have the same value for honesty as I do. Although some times it becomes apparent that's not the case.

No, I'm not honest all the time. But when it counts, when it deals with other people's feelings, I'm (sometimes brutally) honest.
And I hope that people catch on that that's what I want in return. I don't want people sugarcoating things for me, or patronizing me, telling me things they think I want to hear. Don't tell me "I love you" unless you mean it. For me, I love you doesn't last two weeks. It lasts, well, longer. Of course, there are different types of the "I love you "("...but I'm not in love with you"--but that type is usually clarified that it is that type). But when I say it, I mean it. I wish others would offer me the same curtousy.

I still love Josh...not in the same way I used to, of course, but I think I once told him I'd love him forever, and you know, I'd say it again.

But then, it's not just boys guilty of the "always/forever" fallacy. I wonder how many of my childhood yearbooks have "B.F.F." or "B.F.F.A.A." written in them from people I haven't talked to in a fortnight.

Looks like it's been going on for years, and probably will for several more. I should probably use my earmuffs when people say "forever" or "always," because always is a long time, and there's very little that actually lasts that long.

"A D+?!?!? Oh my God...

2005-05-06T20:25:00.000-04:00

...I passed!!!"

Okay, so it was actually a C+. But it may as well have been a D+ because this was one of those classes you have to have get a C to get credit for it. I thought I was going to have to drop my minor, because there was no earthly way I would make it through another semester of that, and I wasn't too hopeful that I was going to pass. I must have seriously dominated my final, because my grades throughout the semester have been horrendous. Not that I've been slacking, the class was really just that hard. Probably the toughest I've ever taken.

It's really nice to know I don't have to drop my Spanish minor. Needless to say, my GPA this semester will take a serious dive, but considering I had one of the hardest classes ever as part of a 19 credit-hour semester during track season, and working too, I think I'm okay with that.

More good news: I got a job for summer! I was planning on working at On the Border with Jessika, but they're not hiring until the end of the month, and we all now how impatient I am. So I went next door to Razzoo's (cajun-type restaurant), and was hired on the spot. Suite. I start orientation on Monday. The only problem is that it's kind of far from my house (at Concord Mills) so I'll be spending a lot on gas money, as my mother refuses to let me forget.
"If that's what smokes your shorts, Natalie.."
"Yes, that's what "smokes my shorts," Mom." Who says that? Buh. Spare me.

So it appears summer is getting under way quite nicely. It's full of possibility, and plans of being really productive. There are plans of things I want to do, places to go, things to buy.

One of the things to do, even out my track tan, may end up being a little more difficult than I imagined. I may resort to laying in the tanning bed, because I guess I'd forgotton that I absolutely can't stand laying in the sun without doing anything for hours. Damn this ADHD of mine. I can however, lay for 20 minutes. That's plan B. I think maybe I'll give it a go tomorrow.

I've still got to unpack everything, and the thought of doing is about as appealing as a tetanus shot.

Maybe I'll do a little of that tonight, though, considering I can't make it to bed until I clear a path on my floor anyways.

But for now, I'm going to go for a run.

cause I'm rediculous like that

2005-05-03T13:04:00.000-04:00

Looking over my last post, I've decided that I want to write like that, for a change. So if you're an organization freak who likes things to develop in some type of sensible order, read no further, because you won't be finding it here. Here goes.

I'm leaving to go home tomorrow. It's a bittersweet thing. I haven't said good-bye to anyone, really, except Miriam, and I probably won't be able to. It wouldn't seem such a big deal to me if I knew I'd be back next semester, seeing all of the same people again. But, next semester I could be far away. Decisions have yet to be finalized regarding all that, and that's why I haven't yet divulged to too many what exactly I'm talking about; I don't want people making a big fuss out of something that might not even happen.

I'm tired. My last two exams today and tomorrow are critical, and I should probably be studying for those instead of here, piddling on my computer.

People told me I was tan last night at the quinn. I'm not. I'm burnt. Well, actually, my arms are tan...the rest of me is burnt or completely white. Gosh, I love track tans. My feet, upper thighs, midsection, and portions of my shoulders are still blindingly white, the rest of me is tan. It's not like it fades into it inconspicuously either. No, there are clear lines, where you can tell exactly where my uniform was. Ugh. And, chances are, it probably won't get any better during the summer.
I want to nap. I think I will as soon as I finish this. Yes, I think it's a good idea to put off studying for my final at 3 again. "This is a lesson in procrastination..."
I need to think of something for mom for mothers day. I've been racking my brain about that lately. She's hard to get gifts for, and I want something nice, because she does so much for me.
I haven't packed anything and I'm moving out tomorrow. Gross. It's really going to blow to do all that. Blow. That's really a good movie. It kinda made me want to be a drug dealer. No, I'm not kidding. Given, I didn't give any serious thought to it.
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so tired nap now. bye.

"It's called reading. Top to bottom, left to right, group words together as a sentence

2005-05-03T01:56:00.000-04:00

...take tylenol for any headaches, midol for any cramps." ~Tommy Boy

I'm a crappy mathematician on the spot, even for easy problems, until you hand me a piece of paper and a pencil. I could write and write and write, for days, and still later think of things I should have written, or should write, things I want to get out. Everything makes better sense to me when I can see it.

Mom has called me NatterScatter since I was little, because I'm so scatter-brained. It fits. Nothing makes sense in my head; there are a billion things going on at once. If you've ever been privy to be a recipient of one of my notes, where I'm not concerned with staying on one topic, you've gotten a taste of what goes on in my head. It's madness. I've been told, frequently, by my Dad, that I'd lose my head if it weren't attatched to me. That's true too.

Words make sense though. They're a release from all the madness bouncing around in my head. They're neat, and organized. Once something is on paper, that's one less thing to think about.

My life is in my planner. Everything important to remember, or that I'll want to remember for nostalgia purposes is there. Highlighted in yellow are dates of track meets or meetings, or the time I ran hurdles in that day, or the height I vaulted, etc. Green is work-related stuff-meetings and unusual shift pick ups. School stuff; projects, exams, papers; is orange. And pink denotes social events; dates, parties, landmarks in relationships. I think you could get a pretty decent idea of who I am by looking at my planner.

It's taken a while to notice, though, how it helps to see things in front of me. I am a visual learner, apparently . I'm looking at making some life-changing decisions fairly soon, and so I thought, for the hell of it, I'd make a pro/con list. I didn't expect it to help out; lists show all factors as even. Certainly, that's not the case. There are some circumstances that are more influential than others, that lists can't depict.

Even so, I went at it. Before I knew it, there it was, in front of me. While I don't feel I came to a solid conclusion, I feel better that I've considered it all, and it's organized there in front of me, in linear form. I could look at all the pro's for doing a certain thing, and saw how stupid some of them were.

I think most people probably think of these date-book, pro/con list, people as extremely organized or on top of things. I can't speak for the rest of us, but I will say that that's not me. Anyone who has seen my room when I'm not expecting company can vouch. I'm a mess. I can't tell you the amount of times I've lost my AppCard this year, or the amount of money I cost my parents for lost retainers a few years ago.

But for things that are really important, there are words so it makes sense, so I'm not so lost.

'Cause I'm Mrs. Brightside

2005-05-02T02:46:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of things I could whine about right now, very easily. The weekend's festivities didn't go as I had hoped, to say the least. But I've found, lately, that I've been complaining a lot about everything, even when things aren't really that bad. So here's the bright side of things:

-My team is badass, won another Southern Conference Championship...men's and women's
-I don't have to get up tomorrow morning before 6am to do a bunch of crazy events like I have the past two mornings.
-I can run as much as I want now, without having to worry about repercussions on my performance at the next meet.
-I PR'd this weekend in javelin....and probably hurdles, too.
-I got a new backpack
-My sunburn may just turn into a tan...fingers crossed
-There's nobody forcing me to practice for (at least) the next couple of months.
-I can drink soft drinks again (I banned them from myself for the past week or two)
-In the past two days, I competed in 8 events total, and that's pretty cool.
-Thus far, my final grades are an A and a B...three more to go.
-There are a lot of other random things to look forward to

T-Phi, you know

2005-04-29T04:08:00.000-04:00

I leave for the last meet of the season today. I feel less than prepared, and yet I don't feel like 3 more months would leave me feeling any more confident.

Heptathlon starts at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I'll be running hurdles while the rest of the team is eating breakfast together. Indoor, I blew the pentathlon from the very start by hitting a hurdle hard, stumbling, and nearly falling. My time was 2 seconds slower than usual. Two seconds is a lot when the whole race should only take 8 seconds total.

Hurdles has the potential to help me, so long as I don't screw up like I did in indoor. High jump could go either way. I don't have great hopes for shot put or long jump. I haven't a clue how the 200m dash will go. Javelin could help me out a good bit; I'm counting on that to be one of my stronger events. But I'm really dreading the 800m. I did a little more distance running since indoor, so hopefully that might help me, but I'm not counting on it. The only comforting thought is that it will be over in (hopefully less than) three minutes.

I pray the weather is nice on Saturday. If it's not, pole vault will be moved to Sunday, which means I'll have to do it after the 800. I'm going to be worthless after the 800. The thought of having to do my main event after the 800 scares me.

I have high hopes for the meet. In heptathlon and vault...but really, I'd take a personal record in vault and a shitty heptathlon, if it came down to having to choose.

But after sunday, I'm done. I'm ready for a break, and for everything to stop hurting. My body tells me I'm too old for this mess, even though I'm only 19. I really just want to be able to run and run and run without having to worry about how it's going to affect my performance in the next meet. I'm excited about training in other things than sprints, and event specific crap. I really just want to run. Scratch that. I really just want to jog.

The longest season ever, finally winding down

2005-04-25T21:55:00.000-04:00

It's been a really long season. I can't tell if I hate pole vaulting or if my ADD is getting the best of me and I just need a distraction from it.

I miss the other distractions I used to have. I miss when track was only 3 and a half months long, and was preceeded by volleyball and basketball. It gave me time to get fired up about pole vaulting, and I really did.

But we've been lifting and running since somewhere about the second week of school. Event specific training started in October. It's frustrating and tedious to be busting your ass for a few hours every day, and not seeing any results.

It's debatable as to whether I've improved in heptathlon, considering half of the events I'd never done before anyways. I don't mind going to practice for any of that so much. There's variation there, at least.

But I'd really rather stick a fork in my eye than go to pole vault practice every day. It's so predictable. We'll jump a bungee, we'll jump a bar. I'll hear, "Natalie your plant is late, you need to get your plant up sooner and out," five hundred million times. I KNOW THAT! My God, do you think I just continue to do it wrong to piss you off? Don't you think if I could fix it, I would? You've been telling me the same thing for two years, and yet have given me no drills or know-how to do the fixing. Fine. If you're not going to tell me how to fix it, or to help me fix it, give me something else. I know that's not all that's wrong with my vault...there are plenty of things that need fixing. Critique something else. Stop drilling into my head that my plant sucks, because, guess what? I already know that, and it's doing absolutely no good to hear it over and over and it makes me want to cry or to plant my pole right up your ass.
I hate that we do the same thing every day. In high school there was an endless supply of drills and different kinds of pole vaulting aids. We'd jump through a hula hoop, there was the "top performer"-a pulley type thing that you hang from, and learn to pull off the top of the pole. It was fun.

I had a 3 and a half hour practice Saturday after the meet. It was at home, with my old coach and his son, Brandon, who was my original inspiration for wanting to pole vault. The runway, a thin rubber mat sitting on top of uneven ground, is bumpy and narrow, far from the quality to which I've become accustomed. The standards lean in ominously, threatening to give you tetanus if your jump goes awry and you wind up too far to the left or right. But my jumps were on. My plant was better, even though I warned my old coach I'd have to tear off his head if he mentioned it, and so he refrained. I finally got some much needed feedback on everything else on my vault. I worked really hard, but it didn't feel like work. It was fun. Brandon and I played around, too, doing back flips and making up our own games: who could look backwards at the sun the longest, making drills a competition. It didn't feel like 3 and a half hours except to my muscles which are still sore.

I have pole vault practice again tomorrow, then one thursday and then I jump on saturday. I've decided the following though: I'm not going to get better with two days of practice, especially considering I haven't gotten better in two years (let's face it, 2 inches is a joke). So I'm not going to stress out about practices this week, and I'm going to block out anything Coach Ward says about my plant, and I'm going to just jump. I'm going to experiment for the hell of it. Maybe I'll attempt doing it left handed. But, no matter what, it's going to be fun. I'm not going to go out of season knowing that I've wasted an hour and a half vaulting every tuesday and thursday and have hated every minute of it. Especially since I haven't gotten any better.

I'm a lucky girl

2005-04-25T01:22:00.000-04:00

I saw this on Stephanie Klein's blog...and thought I'd like to do my own, so here goes:

I am grateful for my Dad's honesty...even when it hurts, "Natalie it looks like you're getting fat"...I'd rather hear it and be able to do something about it than all of a sudden be 200lbs and not see it coming.

I am grateful for my brother's work ethic, for being what I've always wanted to be, for motivating me to be better by just being better himself.

I am grateful for my Grandma, who will always think I'm the most beautiful girl in the world.

I am SO grateful for my mom, who is my rock, for doing everything she can for me, for standing up for me when Dad's mad at me, for being my best friend, for letting me hang on her and sit on her lap, for letting me be little when I want to

I'm grateful for Friday afternoons after classes, for snow-days, boar's head bologna, and long naps

I'm grateful for lamp lighting in my dorm room, my mattress-pad, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and sweatpants.

I am grateful for Miriam, and that she puts up with all of my crap (I'm a difficult person to live with), and for Kristen, who always leaves me messages on my AIM away message, and for knowing that both of these girls are there to give me a hug or lend an ear if I need it.

I am grateful for Caren, Bridget, Megan, and Kaitlyn, who can relate to the frustrations of track and Coach Ward, and for partying with me a lot. And for Skinny, who has become a brother to me.

I'm grateful for Chris-top-her who I can count on to know my old-school lyrics away messages, and who takes shifts for me at the Quinn last minute constantly.

I'm grateful for coffee, chocolate chip muffins, chicken quesadillas, sweet tea, and What-a-burger #13

I am grateful for sunny days sitting on the porch, painting my toenails, and for the (few) sunny warm days in Boone.

I'm grateful for Mount Pleasant and all of the wonderful people in it.

I'm grateful for Seth who is so much fun to hang out with, and who shares my affinity for golf, movies, and for Hunter...both of these guys always tell me I'm beautiful. For the entire Meyers family, all of whom are like a second family to me.

I am grateful to be blessed with health, and for the abilities that I have.

I'm grateful for kisses on the forehead, good pictures, Long Island, popcorn

I'm grateful for people knowing me, who I am, what I need and want. I'm greatful for walking arm-in-arm, for being taken care of, for phone calls from friends in the middle of a night after drinking checking to make sure I'm okay, for guy friends being protective

I'm grateful for my cell phone, for email, and the fact that you can learn pretty much anything on the internet.

I'm grateful for aleve, ibuprofin, tylenol PM, and other painkillers

I am grateful for Ronda the Honda, for warm days with the sunroof open and the windows down, listening to a good song on the radio

I'm grateful for strawberry smoothies and daquiri's, chicken fricasee and spetzla--mom's german specialty, parties with a theme, and candy necklaces.

I'm grateful for my teammates, all of whom are AMAZING to me, and who are a constant source of inspiration, for being lucky enough to have really great coaches throughout my life.

I'm grateful for Mr. Cotton for being the best teacher in the world.

I'm grateful that Jessika and I became friends, for knowing a good time will ensue when we get together.

I'm grateful for my friendship with Josh, and that I can look back on our time together without any distaste for it. That he knows who I am, and will tell me when I'm wasting my time with someone that's never going to cut it for me.

I'm grateful for randomness and spontanaity, for the way I feel after a long run, for runs when I'm upset, for surprises, for good lyrics.

I'm grateful for breaks from school, for my hair lady, for refrigerated aloe-vera gel.

I'm grateful for being truly blessed with all of these things to be grateful for, and for knowing that I could continue this list for hours, and still forget things.

Sophomore Year Highlights (in relative chronological order)

2005-04-21T00:54:00.000-04:00

-Took my first ballet class ever, and ended up improving significantly
-Started doing multi-events
-Got promoted to Supervisor at the Quinn Center
-Played outdoor intramural soccer
-Met a lot of cool new people
-Partied a lot with the boys: Skinny, Alex, Dustin, and Gus...and the girls: Caren, Megan, and sometimes Kaitlyn and Bridget
-A few good weekends spent partying with Jessika, signing gourds, walking into football pre-game meals, drinking chocolate cake, pole dancing, ordering jr. bacon cheeseburgers with "two times cheese!" in the middle of the night...and waking up with cheeseburger wrappers in my purse, we downed a 40 in the car on the way to a party and I chipped her tooth on it, slip-and-sliding at PU w/naked lacrosse boys
-Declared my majorS
-Discovered Bill's radio show, and Bill has introduced me to two of my current favorite bands: Brand New and Alkaline Trio
-Developed the following addictions: Gilmore Girls, Coffee, popcorn, cherry blow-pops
-Anna Mann came up for a visit with her sister, and I think she had a pretty good time
-Discovered how wonderful Boone Bagelry is
-Started a golf obsession
-Went to the State Fair with Seth Furr, ate a fried candy bar, and collected a lot of stickers
-Got a new screen name, to avoid my AIM stalker (boy, he was WIERD)
-Me and Miriam had our own little Christmas tree!! and it was CUTE
-Went out with the hottest guy in the world (Jessika and Holly can vouch, he's gorgeous), even though he's too old for me (27....I know....but he's SO hot.)
-Christmas Eve w/the Seth and the Furr's, third year in a row.
-Got really overly drunk a few days before new years...I think I learned a life lesson that night about drinking
-Got a championship ring
-Discovered Cootie Brown's of Johnson City, T.N.-a wonderful eatery
-Started hardest spanish class ever
-Salvaged a friendship with Josh
-Rocked candy necklaces at an 80's party w/Bridget, Brooker, and 'ren.
-Took a lot of pain medication, discovered the wonders of Tylenol PM, sprained my ankle but not badly, and got a cortizone shot in my foot
-Got semi-dressed up and went to a frat-tastic "function" with Chris-top-her
-Went 4-wheeling with Baron, Skinny, and Gus
-Had a really good valentine's day, for the first time ever (not that other ones have been bad, but they just haven't been good)
-Had a "boyfriend" for maybe two weeks; it's funny, now that I think about it
-Did my first pentathlon ever-didn't go as well as expected...made it through the 800, the worst race ever
-Took 7th in pole vault in conference
-Team won another conference championship, and it was really exciting
-Beach trip with Caren over spring break--a strange guy told me I was so adorable, I was making his pussy wet--ha, took body shots of tequila after drinking rum and Ice 101-was hungover the entire next day...it was bad, got henna tattoos on our asses, assumed fake names, bought a lot of fireworks, set them off in my neighborhood when we got back,
-Put all my good pictures of this year in a photo album, possibly the only new years resolution I followed through on
-Rode on Zach's bike w/him, getting over 100mph in curves in blowing rock, over 130mph on a straightaway
-Ran somewhere around 6 miles at one time a week or so ago--that's a lot for me
-Had Gilmore Girls tuesdays every week w/Miriam
-My distaste for Coach Ward and pole vaulting in general has reached a new high
-Now, I'm ready for the school year and track season to be over...not long now.....

If you want my autobiography, baby just ask me.

2005-04-18T03:01:00.000-04:00

I got into a discussion with my Californian, frat-tastic, puts the "super" in supervisor friend Chris today, regarding whose major was better. My strongest defense was the necessity to write for the sake of memories. Memories fade, it's true. While there are memories that stick in my head, it's only the main points; the details are blurred. I all to often find myself wishing I could go back and remember everything exactly as it was at some point in time.

I want to know how it smelled that summer night I got off work and went to his house. It was probably a combination of chlorine and grass. He was upset about something, nonverbals giving it away. He sat on the diving board, maybe bouncing, staring into the deep end as I quietly slipped off my shoes and socks, followed by my pants and probably food-scented shirt and dove in in my skivvies. I don't remember, though, what my exact motivation was, and I don't remember his reaction either. I was crazy that summer, though. I wish I had written that summer.

I wish I had written track season my senior year. Wow, I hated that season. I've never felt so much pressure as in that season. I think I wanted to quit. Everyone kept asking me how track was going and if I was going to win states again, and I wasn't up to par the entirety of that season (falling short of my personal best by at least a foot every meet). I was really stressed out in the weeks prior to that meet. A last minute decision got me a new pole, and a week or so to get on it. My coach went MIA somehow, and I ended up with Kyle and his dad, and took a last minute trip to his coach, costing my parents somewhere around $100 for a 2 hour session. They must have felt some of the pressure too. There were pole vaulting practices before school in the mornings, in addition to the post-school ones lasting until sunlight was gone, trying frantically to get on that new pole. I went into the state meet ranked like, 5th or something (as opposed to the previous year, where I was ranked 1st I'm pretty sure), having taken a devastating 2nd place in regionals; a meet I'd won since freshman year. I think I cried a lot, but I can't remember. People think it's a given that if you win one year, you'll win the next if you don't graduate or whatever. It was no cake-walk for me. Anyways, there was a miracle, somehow, and I was able to jump on that pole, and cleared a foot higher than I'd cleared all year, and won.

But, if you can't tell, all of the details are vague. I wish I hadn't lost all of them.

But I'm writing now. At least, I'm writing the things I think I'll want to remember later, the big important ones anyways. Not in here, mind you. Mostly, that's for the reader's benefit. The amount of details necessary makes it far too boring for others. I know they don't care about that kind of thing like I do, and I'm not yet a good-enough writer to make that kind of description interesting. So I save it for me, it's sitting in my big green book. Three pages front and back written about an hour long walk. It's tedious spending so much time writing something like that, but comforting to know that I'll know exactly how it was to me when I look back on it down the road.

"summer summer summer time"~fresh prince/dj jazzy jeff

2005-04-17T22:24:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about summer, and all the things I'm really excited about being able to once I've got some free time on my hands. So I thought I'd make a list about it.

Reasons to be fired up about summer:
-no school work
-working w/Jessika at on the border
-internship with the hometown newspaper
-being able to up my milage without having to worry about the consequences of injury
-playing a lot of golf with Seth Furr
-my birthday, not being a teenager anymore
-trip to New York over the fourth of july
-seeing all the relatives, go to the horse races, do a lot of shopping, go fishing, go clamming, maybe see a yankees game at the stadium, going to Ikea (I love Ikea)
-visiting Geoff in the 'boro
-playing tennis with mom
-eating a lot of what a burger
-buying a lot of fireworks and setting them off in my neighborhood with Caren
-laying out on my deck
-driving with the sunroof open
-food shopping trips with mom
-possible trip to Europe
-not lifting weights
-eating What-a-burger #13 whenever I get the urge
-sleeping late
-mowing the lawn

It's called karma baby, and it goes around

2005-04-17T14:38:00.000-04:00

I know what I want. And that's not it. It's a reocurring theme. I seem to only hear from him after he's been drinking.

"Hmmm. Very interesting!" (~tommy boy)

He knows I'm not over him, and he's trying to take advantage of it. It's painfully obvious; just like the fact that he couldn't care less about me except after he's got a few in him and he sees I'm online at 2 in the morning.

I wasn't surprised to see an instant message with his name on it when I woke up this morning. It was saturday night. Not that the night of the week really makes a difference for him. Last time it was tuesday, after all.

Messages recieved at 1:57AM:
him: hey girl

Auto response from natterscatter: mmmmmmm beddddd

him: wake up
him: now
him: its early as shit
him: im coming over
him: wake up
him: now
him: heyyyyyy
him: heyyyyy
him: wake up
him: now
him: nbow
him: now
him: now
him: niw
him: wnow
********* signed off at 4:14:28 AM.

Luckily I had been drinking too this time, and had decided to call it a night early, and curled into my bed around 1:30ish...and so was completely gone by the time all this instant messaging started. I would have probably made a bad decision. I would have fooled myself into thinking that it wasn't just him being drunk. I'm a wishful thinker most of the time. What a curse.

The point is, I don't want the late night IM's or phone calls unless it's accompanied by daytime (sobertime) attention. That's not me, I'm not going to be that girl, so you'd best find someone else if that's what you need. Leave me out of it, and leave me alone because it's just making it harder for me.

another survey-curtesy of miss kiessling

2005-04-13T02:53:00.000-04:00

some sweet survey...another from my fav. (forever in my heart) #5...Kennard

10 Songs You Love

Hands Down (Dashboard)
The Sweater Song (Weezer)
Seventy Times Seven (Brand New)
You get me (Michelle Branch)
Make yourself (Incubus)
The greatest fall of all time (Matchbook romance)
Babygirl (Sugarland)--me and momma's song :-)
Check yes or no (George Straight)--for my one and only young grasshopper
Be a gangster (ghetto boys)
Safety Dance (Men at work)

...too many..these can't be my only favs.

9 Bands / Artists You Love

Dashboard
Simple Plan
Brand New
John Mayer
Matchbook Romance
Alkaline Trio
Taking Back Sunday
Dave Matthews
Weezer...and Incubus...can't limit to 9..sorry

8 Stores You Shop At

Gap
Banana Republic
A&F
Polo--on occasion.
ANY bookstore
Sephora
Urban Outfitters
ANY shoe store..mmmm...shoess

7 Movies You Love

The Notebook
Finding Forrester
How to lose a guy in 10 days
Top Gun
Hoosiers
Spaceballs
Tommy Boy

6 of Your Best Friends-no. I can't. too much trouble from that one

5 of Your Favorite Kinds of Candy

Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Butterfingers
Twix
Peanut Butter M&M's
Cherry Flavored Blow-pops

4 of Your Favorite TV Shows

Gilmore Girls
Friends
ER
Sportscenter

3 Things That Scare You

NEEDLES
this stupid room when I'm alone at night
The idea that I may not be successful in my career, my family, finding happiness, etc.

2 of Your Favorite Colors

Pink
yellow

1 Wish You Have

To be able to pay my parents back one day for everything they've done for/given to me

PS...Kennard: Can't believe Queen wasn't on your list!!!

It's 7:24pm....or is it???

2005-04-12T22:24:00.000-04:00

It seems all of the clocks on campus are off all of a sudden. Either that, or I'm just more aware of campus clocks, seeing as though I no longer have my precious cellular telephone to depend on for the purpose of counting down the minutes until classes end.

Either way, it's insanely annoying. There's a clock in the library claiming it's three o'clock when I'm sure it's really somewhere around six. The clock in my geology classroom is only right two times a day; when it's ten minutes to seven. I'm used to these though, now. The one in my conversational spanish class gets me every time though. The second hand still moves. It jerks, but just doesn't make any progress, like there's an invisible finger holding it there. So you think the clock is in working order at first glance. Tricky.

I think it's a conspiracy among all the staff around here. They got together one day and decided that all the students aren't stressed out about finals and papers and projects (not to mention all the other crap we have going outside of school), we should be in a constant state of utter confusion. So they decided to mess up a bunch of clocks. They were smart about it, too. Messed up just enough clocks so that we can't remember which ones are broken and which are actually fairly accurate. They know that with this initial insanity in place, the clock thing is just enough to throw us over the edge.

Adding to the problem, of course, is that I have yet to attempt to push the clock in my car an hour forward (for the daylight savings time switch we made a while ago). I think I've tried to change it before, I couldn't figure it out. Same situation with my running watch. I lost the instructions to that thing a long time ago.

Anyways, the only clock I can really count on is the one in the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen. Because really, if there's a power surge, the ones in my room are gone too, that's chancing it a little too much-I'm just not too trusting with my clock situation nowadays.

You wait, the belltower is next.

"And what you wish for won't come true...

2005-04-10T02:19:00.000-04:00

...you aren't surprised love, are you?"

I don't know where the doubt in myself came from, but it set in sometime last year, and I can't get it out. Maybe it's warranted. There's still part of me that wants to believe it's not though.

I used to know, in high school, that I could beat pretty much anyone that got thrown my way. Usually in hurdles. Always in pole vault.

And I knew that once I got to App, I would only keep getting better, because I always jumped my best with Coach Walker (who recruited me here). But he left when I got here. Jessica (the girl that got recruited with me) quit after last year. She was good, too. She was feeling the same way I do, I suspect. And I stopped getting better, despite working three times as hard as I ever did in high school.

I never lifted in high school. And our team workouts were far less time-consuming than the time I dedicate to track now. It doesn't make sense. And it's so frustrating.

And I wonder if I should have quit a long time ago. I guess two high school state championships wouldn't have been a bad note to end on. Should have stuffed my spikes under my bed, like my brother did after high school. I always thought the world of him. I thought he should have run in college. I thought he could have been great. But then, maybe that's because I'm biased. I probably think he was a much better athlete than he was. He was great for our school, our conference, our region, our state (for 2A sized high schools), but then again, I guess I was too. He would never have had this problem though. I know it. He was a real athlete, with a work ethic to go along with it.

There are plenty of reasons (excuses) that could justify all this, sure. The competition is higher, my pole vault coach is terrible, maybe I just wasn't good enough in the first place, I'm past my prime (which at 19 seems rediculous, and yet it still appears that way), I was the big fish in the little pond.
But all of these do nothing for me. Excuses are supposed to make you feel like you're excused, right? Well I don't. It feels like a cop out.

That's probably why I haven't quit yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think that if I could just do more, everything would be better. Perhaps that's egotistical, but not winning is still relatively new to me (unless we're talking team basketball, which is a completely different story), so it's hard to accept that maybe I'm not cut out for it any more, or maybe I never was in the first place.

But as hard it is for me to accept this, I can't imagine a lot of the people from my hometown being able to grasp it either. I don't think you can really see what a small pond Mt. Pleasant really is until you get out of it. And if I were to quit, they would all be pretty dissappointed in me. The thought of letting these wonderful people down kills me.

Severed my phone, and my ties to the world

2005-04-09T01:17:00.000-04:00

My phone just died. For good. It's been hanging on by a thread (literally) for the past week or so. But I dropped it again, and that was it. I swear the thing's slippery or something.

I'm cut off from the world. All of a sudden my parents are far away and I can't reach them whenever my heart desires. It makes me kind of uneasy. Sure, there's email, but who knows when they'll be checking that. My room phone doesn't call long distance, not that I know anybody's phone number anyways, because they were all saved in that phone under their names.

I'm very lonely all of a sudden. I've never noticed how comforting it is to have my world (of people I love) at my fingertips. I never thought about how nice it is to know that anytime you just need to hear the voice of someone that really loves you, you can. Here, those people are few and far between. There are a lot of people that like me, I guess, but I really feel loved by the people at/from home. And anytime I was feeling down, I could call Seth or Brandy or Danny or Jimmy or Chief or whoever, and everything would be better just to hear their voice. How convenient!

But now that's not an option for the time being, and it's unsettling.

And of course, if anyone wants to talk to me, they only know my cell phone number. Coaches, friends, employers...it's no good

Maybe I am spoiled. I get frightened by not having a cell phone for a few days? What did I do before the days of cell phones? Jeez. That seems like a long time ago. Sometime in high school...maybe junior year I got my own cell phone? Sophomore or junior year. So, 3 or 4 years ago. I guess I've forgotten what it's like without one.

I'm lost.

And also, a drama queen, apparently.

flowy skirts and windy days

2005-04-06T01:39:00.000-04:00

It was really pretty outside today. My first class of the day was cancelled, and so I had an hour and fifteen minutes to piddle around in my room. Instead of taking a nap, like I usually would, I decided to find something better to wear to class, since usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays I look less than spectacular for class.

I decided on a skirt that I got a while back, but have never worn. It was cute and I wanted to wear a skirt, because I haven't worn one in ages (too cold in booooone), but I didn't think about the breeze today, and it's one of those flowy skirts...not stiff like a jean-skirt type of thing. Plus it's fairly short (depends on how much it rides up when I'm walking, of course...and then I'll have to pull it down, which was rather annoying). So I felt very Marilyn Monroe holding it down walking to and from my classes. Luckily, I'm pretty sure I didn't expose anything throughout the day.

I got a comment from this girl in my spanish class about how short it was. But the thing is, it really isn't. It's almost finger-tip length, in fact. For some reason, it does give the illusion that it's much shorter than it is in actuality. I basically just blew her off, because she constantly does things that piss everyone off, and she doesn't realize she's being annoying. When she stood up to leave, though, I had to bite my lip from making a nasty comment about her shorts being way shorter than my skirt. They so were.

Skirts are way more trouble than pants or shorts, overall. I always have an issue with remembering to sit ladylike. God. I used to hate that word as a kid. I was always doing things that were "unladylike". I was constantly getting banged up, falling off my bike from trying to jump potholes in the road, running into things (I'm a spaz for life), bug bites, etc. I heard the phrase "Natalie that's not very ladylike" a lot when I was little. I never really outgrew that I guess. I'm pretty sure sagging my sweatpants like I do would classify as "unladylike,"...as would picking a wedgie in public. I wonder how many times I do that per track meet? Probably somewhere around 489. Ladylike is boring and stuffy. I may be girlie at times, but rarely ladylike. Ladylike is proper and uncomfortable. I've never gotten into the habit of sitting ladylike. I'll sit with my legs crossed sometimes voluntarily, but it's not just something that I do constantly because I feel like I should.
Obviously, this can be tricky when wearing a skirt. What a pain in the butt to have to sit in a way that you don't necessarily want to sit.

Even despite all this, it was thoroughly enjoyable, surprisingly. I felt cute just because I put a little more effort into my outfit decision than the usual (jeans/sweatpants, t-shirt). I'll admit, though, it was a relief putting shorts on for practice.

I have a lot of skirts. Count on me wearing them more often. But I'll be watching the weather forecasts better to avoid the windy days.

Welcome back

2005-04-03T14:56:00.000-04:00

You've missed it, haven't you? Perhaps you've even gone into some sort of withdrawl?

"I don't know what to do! I don't know what Natalie's been doing because she doesn't have the link to her blog on her instant messenger profile anymore! It's a travesty! Even so, I don't really want to take the time to message her, because let's face it...she's not that great of a conversationalist. But I do enjoy perusing her musings when I have nothing better to do."

Well here's the kicker that you're gonna love: I've still been posting on occassion. Are you really that surprised? I like to write. I like the sound of the keys being tapped on my keyboard and seeing letters appear in front of me. But I haven't put the link on my profile because I guess I'm a little more self-concious than I thought. Plus, lately I've been writing things that I really didn't think people would be that interested in reading. That's not something I want to do. To me, it's better to write nothing (or at least let everyone think you're writing nothing), than to write badly. It's still up for debate in my own mind whether any of the things I write are worth reading, but there's no question that the last couple posts haven't been up to my normal par. I've been whiny and semi-depressed sounding and that makes makes me gag. I'm not that girl.

Okay, fine. Maybe I've been that girl lately. My excuse? Hmm let me think of a good one. We all get that way sometimes? Nah. I'm recovering from a tough relationship? Gah that one makes me want to pull out my own hair. Gross. No.

I'm not excersizing enough and therefore my endorphins have plummitted; and, as Elle Woods told us in Legally Blonde, "Excersize gives us endorphins, endorphins make people happy! (... and happy people just don't kill their husbands)" Ohh.. that's a good one. It's the only reasonable explanation. I surprise myself with my imagination and creativity sometimes.

Actually I have been running more lately, and my mood does seem to be improving. So I guess my excuse has some evidence to back it up.

So, in the spirit of recovery, I've decided to put the link up again. And I've left all (minus one, which trust me, you didn't want to read anyways) of my other posts up. So if you'd like, you can look through those too, but I'm not promising they'll be even remotely interesting, because I wrote them without having any intention of having anybody read them. Just keep in mind if I seem to be getting on your nerves: low endorphins...that's not really me.

Running

2005-03-30T01:33:00.000-05:00

I'm not a runner. I'll be the first to admit it.

But I run. Moreso now than usual. I don't think you can call yourself a runner unless you're good at it. Katie Sujkowski is a runner. All those maniacs on the cross country team are runners. I mean maniac in a good way. It's insane how far they run every day. Their idea of practices sometimes involve a run in excess of 10 miles. I look up to them. I look up to anybody who can run a 400 or more fairly well. Somehow I didn't get the genes to be able to run any length of time very well, even though it seemed my dad and brother both did.

Anything more than a lap has become distance to me. This is since I started doing pole vault as my main event. Because we only run around 90 feet (tops) at a time, we don't do anything other than sprint conditioning.

But that doesn't cut it for me. I need the extra semi-distance. The 800 at indoor conference was the worst race ever (and that's not an exaggeration). So I'm trying to avoid that happening again.

I've become kind of fond of my run though (Yes, it's more than a 400). Now I don't have to be mad or upset to pull on my running shoes. I always run the same route, but it works for me. It's perfect.

I like the downward slope of the parking lot and the hill towards Rivers Street as I begin my trek. It makes me feel fast. I'm warming up with minimal effort. Then I take a left to run along Rivers Street, which is fairly level and my pace slows a little, to a pace I know I can maintain up the hill when I take a right headed towards King Street. I take a right to run on the sidewalk in front of all the hippie stores on King Street. I weave in and out of people, past bums and crossing streets, appreciating the fact that my legs still feel strong as I continue up the slight slope. After most of the shops are behind me comes my favorite part. The sidewalk shifts downhill. My feet flop to the ground forcefully, pushed by gravity, not because of my exertion. I'm going fast, but I'm not breathing hard. And I'm cruising. This lasts just long enough before I turn right, back along 321. Again, fairly level. I try to maintain my pace as I go past the Dan'l Boone Inn towards the Convocation Center, where I again make a right, back onto Rivers Street.

This is where it gets hard. I'm tired now, usually. I find my breathing in rhythem with my footsteps. It's more often now than at the beginning. Breathe in for two steps, out for the next. It seems to be a bit uphill, but it could just be my perception because I'm tired. I'm leaning forward a little now because of my fatigue. Maybe my head's a little tilted to the side. I imagine all of the cross country runners who would laugh at me, because they can probably run 5 times as far without breaking a sweat. I would hate to have to go running with them. I force myself to stay at at least a slow jog, until I get to Yosef, which is where I can stop. There I bend over, panting with my hands on my knees, staring at his steel-toed boots.

I walk up the hill, and then sprint through the parking lot, forcing my fists down towards my hips as I go. I've always heard to pump your arms when you're tired. It seems to help, except my arms are tired too. I stop at the foot of the stairs, catching my breath before dragging myself up them to the dorm.

take advantage of the fact that I'm nice

2005-03-29T13:58:00.000-05:00

Oh my God, get out of my bed!

I was a good friend. He called and woke me up at 3 in the morning asking if he could crash in my room. "*Sigh* Why?"

"Because I don't want to stay at Ben's"...giving some excuse about the couch being terrible.

"Fine."

So he walked here in the rain. And I went downstairs and let him in. I told him he could have my bed. I was really perfectly content laying on my roommate's. But he insists he's not letting me go to sleep until I agree to sleep in the same bed as him. Then he kept me awake trying to make out or something. "Just roll over and talk to me"

"I'm tired. It's three in the morning, and I want to go to sleep." ...and these beds are far too small for two people, and, if you haven't figured it out, I'm cranky. I tried to be patient, but probably wasn't successful; I don't care. Then he starts in with the guilt trip. "You hate me...blah blah blah." He knows very well I don't. I wouldn't have answered the phone at 3 in the morning if I did. I have caller ID. And so now I'm the bad guy, so I patronize.

"No, I don't hate you..."

"Just roll over and talk to me!! God, you keep burying your head in your pillow when I try to kiss you."

That's because I don't want to kiss you. I just want to go to sleep. Now I'm sure I should have trusted my suspicions that it was a booty call. But guess what? You're not getting any from me.

"And you're in love with ____ _____. I know the whole story."

F.

Not in love with him. Can't believe you even brought that up. The track team is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else's business. Here's the deal: He just wasn't that into me. And guess what? I've figured it out. I really wasn't that into him either. Just into being with somebody and not being alone. But that's neither here nor there.

I feel like I did a nice thing. Let you sleep here and all that madness. But now it's 11 am. I've already been running and you're still asleep in my bed. I want to do things today. Strike that. I want to do things NOW. It's beautiful out and I want to go live, but I can't very well do that with you still in my bed. I'm a little annoyed.

Pfeiffer Fun.

2005-03-27T23:51:00.000-05:00

I had a crazy good time at Pfeiffer. It's always crazy when I hang out with Jessika. Yesterday was no exception. Crazy crazy. I can't wait to get my film developed. I'm not going to go into detail, but there was fun with a slip and slide in the dorms...with a bunch of naked lacrosse players. Talk about hanging out with your wang out. Holy canolli. Pfeiffer lacrosse boys are crazy.

Made out like a bandit. Or rather, I played the part of the make-out bandit. Made out with a british golf player who kept telling me I was lovely in his adorable accent. Ha. He gave me his number, but it's now illegible because it was stored in my pocket during the slip and slide madness. Oh, and that whole shower with the clothes on probably didn't help the situation either. I'm not too devastated. And then, of course there was the biter...he's a lax (lacrosse) boy.

Needless to say it was a fun night. I guess it's okay to be like that once in a while. But that's not who I am, or who I want to be. It's the goody-good deep inside me. The principal's daughter. She likes being able to have the excuse "I get drug tested" when people ask me why I won't smoke with them. I wouldn't anyway. She talks to me when I start to get a little too crazy. I look up to her and want to be her. The only problem is that I don't think she has as much fun as I do.

Interview with the vampire.

2005-03-27T16:37:00.000-05:00

I don't understand how he could have misunderstood me. "Stop biting me, it hurts."

How could it get any clearer? For Pete's sake I wasn't speaking Spanish. We were making out, and he was cute and all that jazz. But never again.

"I can't help it."
How can you not help biting someone? You just don't bite them. Look at me, right here, not biting myself. I can't say it's that much of a challenge.
I think my bottom lip is swollen. But it's okay (note sarcasm) because the top one matches.

And there is no doubt that a hicky is usually good when you're getting it...it's just the end result that's undesirable. Well in this case there was no silver lining to the cloud. I'm thinking to myself as this is occurring, about the old vampire movies, "I vant to sock your blod." Then came thoughts of that puppy I was playing with earlier that night. It had bitten me too, but not as hard. Plus it had an excuse, it was teething. Somebody give this kid a chew toy.

Don't think I didn't object. I did. I reinforced it several times to make sure he knew I wasn't joking. I tried to pull away when my lips neared the vicinity of his teeth. No dice. Note to guys: Nibbling is sexy. Gnawing and pulling on someone's flesh is not. I'm delicate (and, okay, a little bit of a wuss); be gentle.

My jugular region looks like it's come down with a nasty case of the bubonic plague. Yes, it's that bad. Jessika's knees went out when she saw it. "Oh my God, Natalie."

"Yeah."

So here I am, wearing a hoodie, and it's hot. That's not the kicker. Wait for it.....Tomorrow I have to go back to school...Tuesday I have a track workout...there's no way I can wear a sweatshirt through all that.

Supposedly you take toothpaste and a comb to it- home remedy compliments of Jessika Marie. We'll see how that works out.
I'm skeptical.

That shit's bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

Not in "like"

2005-03-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

We were surveying our sunburns this afternoon as we drove back to his house from Green Oaks. The sun from six straight hours spent playing my first 18 holes ever left me drained and I slumped in my seat.

It was a good time. I couldn't have asked for better company. He's great company.

By now there are many, I'm sure, who think it's only a matter of time before we end up together. I must admit, it's crossed my mind a time or two. I can't count the number of good times we've had together...going into the wrong movie theater for Red Dragon, and only catching the last 15 minutes of it...hitting baseballs with Glenn and Heath; bowling too. There were video days and, of course, Senior Prom. We thought we'd end up at NC State together before I changed my mind last minute and decided to go to App instead. I visited him over fall break there, and we went to the state fair. That concert this past summer was fun too. I've spent the past three Christmas Eve's with his family.

He tells me I'm beautiful. Our IM's always end with arguments over who loves who more (okay, it's cheesy and maybe makes you want to gag, well, close your mouth, I don't wanna hear it.). He's wonderful, no question. I couldn't ask for more in a guy, really....

We've always been friends though. That's it. At one time or another things could have changed to more, but the timing was off or whatever. But I guess timing today was as good as any.

Somehow I felt obligated to stop procrastinating. That doesn't make sense.

Once we got back and I got ready to go, he kissed me today for the first time ever, in his driveway after he walked me to my car (it's wonderful being walked places). I'd seen it coming for a while...actually he pretty much said he was going to last night when we'd made our plans. Yawn.

Then there was some discussion about hanging out on Sunday before he goes back to school, and then I drove home, wishing I was smitten.

My tribute to Kennard

2005-03-23T02:26:00.000-05:00

About Me
Nickname: jeez....Nat (to about everyone), Natty (to pretty much just jessika), Nat-e-boo (Jimmy), Nat Saye (Kennard), Alie (Caren), Natterscatter more often these days, baby girl (mom), Gnat (zach), sugarbear (mrrrmm), natalynwich (Jon)...the list goes on and on
Height: 5'5''ish...
Weight: haven't weighed myself in a fortnight...not that I'd tell you anyways

Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Sex: F
Race: White
Religion: Roman Catholic
Car: My pride and joy, Ronda the Honda.... civic
Tattoos: None
Piercings: each ear, belly button
Hometown: Rockwell/Mt. Pleasant, NC
Current Location: App State University, Boone, NC

Number of Pairs of Shoes Owned: I think I counted somewhere around 24 that I actually use here a while back
Number of Jeans Owned: i don't know....7 or 8?
Sports Played: softball, tennis, volleyball, basketball, a little soccer my sr year, track, a little gymnastics for pole vaulting purposes...and now a little golf on the side

Current Video Games: I'm w/Kennard on this one..."I don't play video games...but the original Super Mario Brothers is by far the best"

Music
Last Song: "Paris in Flames"~thursday
Last Complete CD: it's been a while...probably Dashboard Confessional or Three Doors Down
Most Plays: Dashboard Confessional, Brand New
Favorite Song: omg so many...but somewhere towards the top is "Hands Down" by dashboard
Favorite CD: Dashboard

Favorite Artist: Mariah Carey's old stuff, Michael Jackson
Favorite Genre: depends on how I'm feeling...everything really

Do You… [Yes or No]
Believe in Ghosts: I don't know
Believe in God: Yes
Believe in Leprachauns: as in like the lucky charms guy....sure why not?
Believe in Magic: no
Believe in Santa: No
Believe in the Easter Bunny: No
Blog: blogspot
Drink: sometimes
Drive: yes
Enjoy movies abot gladiators: I guess..I've only seen one but it was good
Exercise: Too much
Go to Church: Never, but I always aspire to...then again Mr. Miller always said "The road to hell is paved with good intentions"....oh well
Go to School: When I must
Have a Job: At the quinn center/lfc supervising
Have a Website: Does my journal count?

Play a Sport: A bunch of em at MPHS, and now track takes up my life, it seems
Play an Instrument: I played a mean recorder in 5th grade....
Smoke: Negative

Have You… [Yes or No]
Ate an Entire Pizza: What size?...Like personal pan? Def. A large? Doubtful
Been Arrested: No
Been Drunk: yep
Been High: No
Been in a car crash: Yes...RIP Fonda the Honda...Miss her..
Been in a cockpit of an airplane: No
Been in a fist fight: No
Been in an Airplane: Yes
Been in court: No
Been outside of this country: No...but there's talk of a trip to Europe this summer
Been outside of this state: Tons and tons of times
Been to church camp: No
Been to Jail: No
Been to Niagra Falls: No
Been to the Mall of America: No
Broke a Bone: Yes
Bungee Jumped: No..but wouldn't mind it
Cheated at Monopoly: more than likely
Eaten Pickled Pigs Feet: No
Failed a class: No..but the semester's not over yet...we'll see :-/
Faught in a war: No
Fed a goat: Yes
Had a Jones Soda: No
Had a tooth pulled: Yes
Hung out in a gymnasium: I'm w/Kennard on this one too.....years of my life prob have been spent in gyms
Milked a cow: yes...at the state fair when I was little
Pulled a Muscle: no
Pumped Extacy: No
Received Detention: No...I was the principal's daughter for pete's sake...and v. well behaved.
Rode a bus: of course
Seen a grown man naked: yes
Shaved your head: No

Shot a Gun: not a real one
Shot Heroin: No
Skydived: No
Slept Outside: yep
Voted: yes..for the first time this past fall
Been in a school play: Yes...I played Cinderella in Cinderella wore combat boots
Prank Called: yes def
Got a parking ticket: No

Favorite
Color: pink
Sport: to do : volleyball, to watch: gymnastics
Movie: gah..too many...Beauty and the Beast, Top Gun, Legally Blonde, The Notebook, Finding Forrester, Tommy Boy
Restraunt: What a burger number 13
Shape: Star
Clothing Brand: whatever
Toothpaste Brand: whatever mom gets me
Meal: chicken quesadillas
Snack: Chocolate, popcorn, chocolate covered pretzels
Drink: Coffee, Snapple, Sweet Tea, Mt. Dew, Cherry Lemon sundrop
Artist: I don't know...
City: MP, NYC
Country: USA...duh
Sports Team: Yankees
Chips Brand: Pringles
Class: Now? All of them are terrible..but if I had to pick one, Nonverbal Comm
Olympic Sport: gymnastics
Pizza Topping: mushrooms, green peppers

Your Buddy List
AIM / MSN / ICQ: natterscatter
Total Buddies: 200
Online Now: A ton of people...Zach, Megan, Kennard, Hunter, Dan....etc
Away Now: A ton....Casey, Seth, Alex, Skinny, Brooker
Chatting to Now: was just chatting w/seth 2 seconds ago

Your LJ Friends
Total Friends: none..don't have lj
Favorite Commenter: on my other journal...Jessika...but nobody really comments on this one too much
Favorite Poster: What?

Can You… [Yes or No]
Cook: a little
Count: yes.
Drink a Soda, under 15 seconds: doubtful
Fix a Car: Negative
Gift Wrap: very well
Knit: No
Lick your nose: No
Play DDR: I don't even know what that is, so no
Program a VCR Clock: No
Program DOS: No
Read: Yes
Read a Map: yes

Ride a horse: No
Roll your tounge: as in like, wavy? ..no...but as in a curl? yes
Run a Marathon: never.
See your feet: Yes
Skip: Yes
Snap your fingers: Uh huh
Solve a Rubiks Cube: no..I'm too ADD
Speak another language: Spanish
Throw a Slider: No
Tie your shoes: Yes
Travel Alone: yes
Whistle: No
Woodwork: I can carve a spoon out of a bigger spoon.

Work in Photoshop: yes
Write HTML: No

Either Or
ABC or FOX: Fox
AIM or MSN: AIM
Allies or Axis: ?
Apples or Bananas: Apples
Automatic or Manual: Automatic
Baseball or Football: both
Black or White: black
Blackjack or Poker: blackjack
Bold or Italics: Italics
Boxers or Briefs: Boxers
Car or Motorcycle: I want a motorcycle someday...
Cats or Dogs: Dog
Chemistry or Physics: Both are disgusting, but physics is a little less-so
Claymation or Virtual Reality: Claymation...Wallace and Gromit!
Coke or Pepsi: pepsi
Computer or Console: Whatever

Congo or Amazon: Amazon
Craps or Slots: Slots
Crips or Bloods: No idea
Cursive or plain: Print is easier, cursive is prettier
Dancing or Singing : both
Democrat or Republican: democrat
Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb: dr p
Elmo or Oscar the Grouch: Oscar
England or France: England!
English or L337: English
Family or Lovers: lovers?
Fight or flea: Fight
Fireworks or Fireplace: fireworks, def.

Flips or Twists: Flips
Foreign or Domestic: Foreign
Fresh Tires or New Socks: New socks
Friends or Family: both
Gloves or Mittens: mittens
Guitar or Piano: Piano
Guns or Knives: Guns
Hairy or Shaven: Shaven
Home or Away: away
Hotels or Camping: hotels..I'm not too outdoorsy..misquitos like the way I taste...
In or Out: Inside
Jackets or Hoodies: Hoodies, along with sweatpants
Jeans or Khakis: Jeans

Johnny Cash or Cash Money: Cash money
Leather or Cotton: Cotton
Macintosh or PC: PC
Makeouts or Highfives: Both...simultaneously
Martha Stewart or Kermit the Frog: Kermit
Meat or Veggies: meat
Movies or Television: movies
Mozerella or Provolone: Mozerella, mama mia!
Nike or Adidas: Nike
Ocean or Lake: Ocean
Online or In-person: Depends on who it is--usually online
Oprah or Rosie O'Donnell: rosie..she's funny
Orange or Pineapple: pineapple
Pants or Shorts: pants
Paper or Plastic: plastic

Peace Up or A-Town Down: That is the question...lol..Kennard I heart you
Phillips or Flathead: Phillips

Pop or Soda: Soda
Powerade or Gatorade: gatorade

Punch or Kick: punch
Quilts or Blankets: Blankets
Radio or CDs: CDs
Red or Blue: Blue
Rhinos or Hippos: Hippos, especially those of the "hungry hungry" variety
Rite Aid or CVS or Exerds: CVS
Rock or Rap: depends on how I'm feeling
Running or Walking: running if there's a destination
School or Work: work
Screwdriver or Drill: Drill
Screws or Nails: Nails
Shoes or Sandals: Sandals
Sitting or Standing: Sitting
Snakes or Gators: Gators
SNL or Mad TV: SNL, duh
Spagetti or Fetucinni: Fetucinni
Stream or River: river
Tables or Shelves: Shelves
Talking or Listening: Talking
Tang or Caprisun: caprisun
Track or Field: Field...running for the sake of running is gross
Train or Plane: Plane
Tshirts or Sweaters: T-shirts
Tylenol or Advil: Tylenol
Type or write: type
Unkempt or handsome: Handsome
Wal*Mart or Meijer: Wal*Mart
Water or Soda: Soda
Westerns or Action: Action
Winks or Blinks: Winks
Work or Home: Home
Yodeling or Yelling: Yelling
Miracle Whip or Real Mao: mayo
McDonald's or Wendy's: mickeyd's
Burger King or Arby's: both
Electronica or HipHop: Hip hop
Chips or Popcorn: popcorn
Orange Juice or Apple Juice: Orange

The Last Thing You…
Downloaded : Pictures
Purchased at a Grocery : pistachio's
Purchased at a Pharmacy : Voltaren (anti-inflammitory)
Ate : swiss cheese
Bought : new clothes @ the beach...a couple shirts, and a badass nike jacket to run in

The Last Time You…
Showered : an hour ago
Updated Your Blog : a few hours ago
Took a Bath : I can't remember
Rode a Bus : some meet..I dunno
Said "I Love You" : to my seffer

Holy crapola that took forever..now I'm soooo tired..
Kennard...I loved the comment of me kicking A-Paw-Paw in "Field"...ha..that's Mount Pleasant if anything is.

"yeah I'm down, but not out, and far from done" ~incubus

2005-03-22T20:44:00.000-05:00

The backs of my pants are muddy, my pink shox are brown, my socks are wet along with the rest of my clothes and my hair, and I like it.
You won't catch me running (not distance anyways) volutarily too often. But running, in my own experience, is only good when I'm angry or upset. My muscles listen much better when I'm not thinking about how much I hate to run, and it gives me time to think everything out, until I'm too tired to think. That's good too.

It's not easy for me to admit when I'm wrong. Especially when someone keeps sticking it in my face. But I did anyways, because I needed to, for me. Now this "this is the way you want it" bullshit isn't going to be the reason I'm losing sleep at night, because there's no way possible that he thinks that this is the way I want things.

Now at least I know that the reason's things aren't the way that I want them is not because I was unclear of what I want. It's because he's sick of me or whatever. Fine. That I can live with. Now there's no doubt in my mind that I did everything I could, and if it didn't work out, well I guess that's life. Now he can't pin it on me, and I can't pin it on myself.

Maybe I am a little spoiled, as it's been suggested; it pisses me off when I don't get my way. But as my dad would say, (and I hated when he used to say this) "You're young, you'll get over it."

He's right, though; I will.. just give me a while and a few distractions along the way.

There's a lot to be jazzed about, coming up, though; and lots of exams for which I should be "buckling down" (as my parents refer to it) anyways. I finished that book I was reading. Maybe I'll start another one soon. And when all else fails, there's practice, practice, and more practice that I could/should be doing in my "free time".

But I'm not going to worry about that other mess anymore, because it's a waste of my time...and I don't have too much time to be wasting. There's living to be done.

swinging the wrenches

2005-03-21T16:20:00.000-05:00

"You'd better come back here and practice...you've got talent."

Pffffhhh.

The guy that runs the driving range said that to me today. What he was really saying though, was, "You'd better come back here and pay $7 for a bucket of balls, because (from the looks of it), we don't get too much business around here, and I enjoy watching your spazticity (new word...call me Shakespeare) trying to hit golf balls."

I have become quite the fan of hitting the driving range, as of late. I'm sure it's a phase, like the addictions I go through (once had a chapstick addiction, last year I had a rediculous Snapple iced tea addiction, currently it's coffee).

But now, my favorite thing to do is to go to the driving range and see how far I can hit a ball. For the most part, it's peaceful. Oftentimes, though, I seem to have a problem with the people that run the driving ranges coming over and to give me tips. Yes, I realize my swing doesn't compare to that of Tiger Woods, and guess what? I don't care. I just came out here to wack the crap out of a ball or two.

The minute I start concentrating on "fixing" things about my swing, and trying to make adjustments, it stops being fun, and starts being practice, and I already get enough of that in.

At home, I patronize the guy that runs the driving range, but that's only because he gave me a free driver "to practice with"...yeah, I don't know, but okay. He tells me things to do, and I listen, maybe make an adjustment if it's not too radical. But it annoys me when he and this other older guy stand there and watch and analyze. I don't play golf for pete's sake, and I know I look rediculous and now you're making me all nervous.

tunnel vision

2005-03-21T02:51:00.000-05:00

If I were a racehorse, I'd be one of the ones wearing blinders (or blinkers or whatever they're called); the things that cut out a horse's periferal vision so it can't be distracted by other horses.

I wish I could buy a pair of magical blinders that direct my attention solely to the things I deem worthy beforehand. They'd block out distractions from all angles, allowing me to see only the possiblities that lie before me and I wouldn't be able to dwell on the past.

It's done, it's over, get over it, let it go.

It happens a lot. I jump off the ground and decide something was wrong with it when I first planted, and that the jump is going to be shitty anyways...so I back out early and land on my ass on the runway. It probably makes the situation worse than it would have been had I just finished the jump. It probably would have been ugly, but maybe I could have pulled it off anyway.

That was my last jump of the meet, but there will be other meets. But I dwell on that one. It could have been a PR or close. But there's nothing I can do about it now. Let it go. Let it go.

Block out my vision of the things that I can't do anything about.

The one exception is that I still want to learn from my mistakes. Forget the actual incident, just give me the instinct to know what to do the next time it happens.

just one of those days

2005-03-19T04:51:00.000-05:00

Today was just one of those days, when everything annoyed me, and I made it a bad day for myself. Conditions weren't especially terrible throughout the day, given, some of the day's events went awry, but Alexander would argue if I said my story would make a good sequel to his of the "terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day."

Maybe I was cranky because I didn't have coffee this morning. I discovered I had forgotten my preferred uniform shorts at school, and had to wear some other ones instead. Once I got to UNCC and began warming up for hurdles, my shins started hurting, and they haven't bothered me for quite a while. By the time I started taking initial jumps for pole vault, they hurt terribly and it was affecting my speed tremendously. So one of the trainers taped them, last minute, without prewrap. Mmmm. It helped a good bit, which was surprising considering it never used to help at all. Or maybe it was the 3 ibuprofin Caren offered me. It's a mystery. As always, Coach Ward got distracted by talking to all the other coaches, and I'm at the end of the runway trying to get his attention so he'll catch my step. This is a recurring problem which frustrates me to no avail. It should be his number one priority to pay attention to his athletes (especially in competition), not fraternizing with other coaches.

At least Coach Weaver told me I didn't have to run hurdles since I was warming up for pole vault. Good. It would have been ugly, especially today.

They start the meet, opening height nine feet, which is a pretty good starting height for me, because it's low enough where I can get over it, usually, no-matter what's going on with the way I'm vaulting that particular day. I can figure out where my standards need to be, which pole I need to be on, things like that. I need to come in at low heights to make these kind of adjustments.

But I'm looking at the bar, as girls that usually clear that height easily are failing to do so. "That looks high for 9 feet."

It looked even higher when I failed to clear it myself....twice. I checked with the official.."Are you sure that's 9 feet?"

"We measured it."

I went to Coach Ward, and told him, "That's NOT nine feet."

I decided I should probably put a lot more effort into my last jump, and so I cleared it, fairly easily.

After everyone had either cleared the height or gotten out, they re-measured at the request of Coach Ward.

Lo and behold it had been on 9'6 the whole time. I wanted to scream.

The bar was moved down to the actual 9 feet for the girls who didn't clear the previous supposed 9 feet. And then they were given a second set of 3 attempts at 9'6. With a field of 22 girls, I waited at least an hour between my last jump at "9 feet" (actually 9'6) and my first at 10. Which meant the adjustments I had made for the previous jumps were useless, because the way I vault changes after sitting for 45 minutes, even if I warm back up. My pole wasn't giving me anything anymore, vertically, but I wasn't feeling strong enough to get on my bigger one without getting rejected. And by that time I was frustrated to the point of not caring.

I'm not sure why, but my sense of agitation was heightened from the get-go today. Normally tedious things like these would only slightly annoy me. But today I wanted to pull my hair out.

Tomorrow will be good and relaxing and all that though. Taking Ronda to get her oil changed. Maybe hit the driving range. Watching some track, maybe with Josh and/or Danny. A leisurely drive back up to App. It'll be nice.