Category: Uptight
I Can Be Your Hero, Baby
If you like your superheroes tall, dark, and broody, Batman is right up your crime-ridden alley. Bruce Wayne’s parents were murdered in front of him. He dealt with his grief by dressing up like a bat and jumping off tall buildings to eradicate the scum poisoning his city. He’s a misunderstood maniac, but also a beacon of hope, delivering justice where others cannot. A silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.
Therapists disagree on the legitimacy of this approach.
Stew on that, Bruce Wayne-style, while I talk about something unrelated.
When I was 11, I moved to Hawaii.
At the same age wizards go to Hogwarts, preteen girls become terrible humans. Before the move, adults were always trying to assuage my angst by telling me it was going to be an experience. I quickly realized calling something “an experience” is a misleadingly positive way to say nothing at all. Describing something that way is completely accurate and completely inadequate.
I Hate Myself for Loving You
I’m big on organizing and ordering information. I don’t know if you could tell from my list-based blog, so I’ll come right out and say it: I like lists. A lot.
But Why?!
- Lists are efficient! Say you and I are attacked by bears. (Please don’t let this theoretical situation deter you from inviting me on your next outdoor adventure. I’m super fun on camping trips!) (I’m not fun on camping trips.) You’re carrying a book titled How to Survive a Bear Attack! It’s incredibly in-depth and would probably be helpful if you weren’t currently facing an angry bear. On the other hand, I’m holding a list highlighting the key aspects of bear fighting. While you’re frantically skimming Chapter One (“Identifying Bears”) and being charged by what you now recognize as Ursus americanus, I’m punching my bear in the face and showing what it really means to be an americanus.
POW! Patriotism!
Oh! The places you’ll go!
So I’m graduating college in three days.
Actually, can you excuse me for a second? My brain keeps doing this stupid thing. If you’re up for a little peek inside my head right now, join me in the following parentheses. If not, skip ahead like nothing happened.
(AAAAAAAA! THE FUTURE! IT’S HERE! I’M IN TROUBLE! AAAAAAAAA! Ok. I think that was all I needed. Let’s do this.)
I have to finish a two-month internship over the summer, so I’m technically not DONE done, but it feels pretty graduation-y since I’ve finished my last undergrad class and I won’t be back next fall. My classmates and I have spent the last eight months worrying about this moment, with varying degrees of intensity. Last semester, we all joked about how we weren’t sure what we’d do after graduation but stepping into oncoming traffic was looking better and better ha ha. This semester, it’s not unusual to catch yourself thinking half-seriously about how quickly you can get to the nearest busy intersection.
At some point, though, it became too much work to worry about the future. I figure as long as I feel self-actualized and I don’t end up starving to death or sleeping on the streets under a copy of one of those “funny” newsletters bad breakfast diners keep on the tables, I’ll be alright. (I apologize if you write for one of those newsletters, but if you have to sleep under a paper, you probably don’t have time to giggle over why glue doesn’t stick to the inside of the bottle or why doctors call their businesses “practices”. I imagine you spend more time worrying about things like how to find food and avoid the pigeon-iest benches.) The point is, I’m not feeling anxious anymore. In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to graduation. I’m even experiencing something like… happiness.
Gross.
This Is Halloween, This Is Halloween
More than once in high school, my mom woke up with the solution to a tricky algebra problem she’d been helping me with the night before. Somehow, while she was asleep, her brain was using FOIL and solving proofs and she’d wake up with the whole thing solved. It’s an incredibly handy talent for a kid who’s stressing out about her pre-calc class the next morning, but so far it doesn’t seem to be genetic.
This morning, however, I woke up with a Halloween-themed song in my head. For a second, I hoped I was a regular Paul McCartney, who woke up one morning with the tune to “Yesterday” fully realized. After singing it a couple times, though, I realized it already existed — all I’d done was change the lyrics, and they weren’t even that good. If my mom is a slightly-less-than-lucid Euclid in her sleep, I’m like a fifth-rate Weird Al-wannabe.
Anyway, this is the song I was singing on my way to decorate my building for Halloween this morning:
(Here’s the background music. Please excuse the jingle bells.)
It’s my most judgmental time of the year.
Your costume’s exploding
your boobs are both showing,
it’s why people leer!
It’s my most judgmental time of the year!
While it’s not a particularly good song, it made me realize that I’m sort of a prude at Halloween. I like to think I’m open-minded, but when one girl walked by wearing caution tape (and ONLY caution tape), I stopped being a thoughtful person and started being a bitter old lady about this holiday. You have the right to wear whatever you want, and that’s cool, but when you’re wearing a thin strip of plastic and it’s 34 degrees outside, I will happily stick up my nose and passive-aggressively bring up hypothermia.
After a Sexy Baby (A SEXY BABY COSTUME. Purchasing that should get you put on some kind of sex offender watch list.) walked past me, I started to wonder if there was anything safe from sexualization on Halloween.
Babies are known for their sex appeal.
Craig’s List
Because I’m a grownup, whenever I’m bored in class or during meetings I distract myself with two different games. The first game is called “Who’s Holding In a Fart?”, and it’s pretty self-explanatory. The second game is called “What Would You Look Like If You Were a Muppet?”
I love the Muppets. If I ever tell you you’d make a great Muppet, don’t be offended. It just means I want to have zany shenanigans with you all the time. Everyone has some Muppet qualities, but some people are so Muppet-like that I want to march them down to the Muppet Workshop and volunteer them as models. Craig is one of those people. It might be his eyebrows, or maybe it’s his hand gestures. Whatever it is, Craig would be a fabulous Muppet.
This is a picture of Craig feeling especially patriotic.
