Saturday, November 29, 2008

once upon a time

There was once a girl who used to talk shit to her clothes.
They revolted and refused to be worn.

ELLEN'S THEORY ON PATCHOULI

Patchouli is an essential oil, derived from the flower of the Patchouli plant. It is commonly associated with "hippies," also known as "longhairs," "flower children," or "DAMN HIPPIES."
Patchouli is known by most hippies to be the one and only scent that fully masks the scent of Cannabis Sativa, commonly known as "Marijuana."

Now, I have a theory about patchouli. Back in the day, hippies used to wear real patchouli oil. Real patchouli oil now is as extinct as the dinosaurs.
The current process for the manufacturing of patchouli is as follows:
Neo-hippies, wishing to be fully legit in their hippie-ness, obtain the ashes of the real hippies from back in the day. They proceed to mix the ashes with scent-free oil, purchased from your common supermarket. Next, the ashy bits are strained out. The neo-hippies massage the oil into their skin. They break out in pimples, and possibly hives, however, they have achieved the scent of a true, unwashed, bathed-in-patchouli, non-conformist hippie-douchebag. Great job, faithful free spirits!

Over-break logic.

Fact:
This break, the only time food made me feel sick was Thanksgiving. Then, it was because I was extremely full.

Fact:
I do not have a weak stomach, nor am I picky.

Fact:
All food does not make me sick, only Wege cafeteria food, and Corner Cafe food.

Statement:
In consideration of above facts, I do not want to eat food that makes me sick.

Resolution:
I will no longer eat the food that makes me sick, i.e., the food provided by Wege Cafeteria and the Corner Cafe.

Issue:
Wege cafeteria and the Corner Cafe are generally my only options for dining, because I have a limited amount of expendable income.

Conclusion:
Therefore, I will only eat the food at Wege cafeteria and the Corner Cafe that I deem safe and healthy for consumption. I will not eat food I expect to make me sick.

opportunism

A friend of mine, Brian Clarkston, told me tonight that he believes me to be an opportunist.
The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary defines opportunism as, "the art, policy, or practice of taking advantage of opportunities or circumstances often with little regard for principles or consequences."
This definition makes opportunism sound somewhat negative. However, in my case, it holds less severe connotations. I do try to take advantage of every opportunity, in the sense that I never say no. I try to experience whatever I can and take chances, even when I am afraid or nervous. I generally consider the consequences and keep good principle in mind, but they usually do not stop me.
The guide I use to my opportunism is simply, others. I never take an opportunity that will severely, negatively affect other people. I do not want to hurt anyone else in any way, ever.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Talking about money frustrates me.
Especially because I have none...
I almost cried for no reason, while discussing money with my parents.
I NEED A JOB.

Jesus God, why am I so stressed?

Cheesecake Champ!

I just made a cheesecake by myself and didn't ruin it!
I'm so happy!
It took me a little while, but I paid attention, followed the recipe, and didn't get distracted!
I did make a mess.
BUT I STILL DIDN'T MESS UP THE RECIPE!!!

Thanksgiving.

The one thing I hate about Thanksgiving is cooking.
I mean, I love it when my mom cooks.
I love it when someone else's mom cooks.
Pretty much, I love it when someone, anyone else is cooking.
I don't cook.
Sometimes it can be fun... I guess... but a high-stress cooking situation is definitely not my idea of fun.
For one thing, I am an awful cook.
I always make a mess, and I always screw up the recipe.

Thanksgiving Day:

I hide out all day to avoid cooking. My mom finds me. Brings me into the kitchen along with my grandma, aunts, and cousin. I am instructed to cook something. I make a mess, or ruin the recipe. My aunt Tracy, a real hyper lady, gets mad because I made a mess in her kitchen. My mom has to figure out what to do with my variation on the recipe.
I run away and hide out again for as long as possible.