My One-hundred-and-thirty-fifth Post

Since I'm home for a week, I asked my mom to schedule me a dentist appointment. My appointment is an a little less than an hour and I just realized my mom expects me to go by myself. Alone. Without anyone else. What is she, crazy? I can't go alone! There will be waiting rooms and then scary things they will put in my mouth. Plus what if they give me some noxious gas and then I have to drive home, but I'm so loopy I crash and die? Then she'll be sorry she made me go to the dentist alone. Then she'll be sorry.

My One-hundred-and-thirty-fourth Post

So I'm going home for a week. I'm way excited.

Speaking of which, if any of you aren't doing anything Friday, I sure could use a ride to the airport. My flight leaves at 2:45pm, so I'd like to leave Provo by 12:30-ish. I can always just take a shuttle, but I'd rather not. There's $20 bucks in it for you to cover gas. Let me know if you're interested (leave a comment or email theahem [at] gmail [dot] com).

My One-hundred-and-thirty-third Post

Swedish things I have eaten today:

• Fish
• Meatballs
• Nobel prize

My One-hundred-and-thirty-second Post

My budget for this month is entirely shot to you-know-where. I spent too much on shoes, birthday presents, play tickets, and now I only have $4 left of my discretionary budget. I’ve been debating whether to use my “extra” $50 to buy groceries, or if I should just tough it out and live off of my “food storage” until December. On one hand, there’s really no reason why I shouldn’t use the $50—this is sort of what it’s there for. I budgeted it so that if I end up with extra expenses, there’s a safety net to keep me from diving headlong into my savings when cash runs low. But I also need to admit that I spent too much on luxury items this month. If I punish myself by limiting my spending for the rest of the month, then maybe I’ll be more reserved in my future spending. I also need to consider that Thanksgiving is this month, and I’ll be going home for about a week. That technically should reduce my grocery $ needs, but I have a feeling I’ll be spending all the money I would have saved by hanging out with my sisters and being frivolous with money. *sigh* So I guess I’ll tough it out until I go home, then spend my $50 frivolously, and then try to be better next month. But everyone knows I’m no good at being thrifty when it comes to Christmas. Dang it! Stupid holidays.

My One-hundred-and-thirty-first Post

Yesterday was my day of not doing stuff, including test taking, class going, working, cleaning, blogging, or any of the other things I thought I was going to do.

Today has been my day doing/planning to do stuff. I made a list of all of my current obligations through next week. It’s nice to have it all organized. I also took one of my tests today. I should probably be studying for the other and possibly taking it right now, but I’ve decided not to rush. I will study tonight, and then take it tomorrow morning. Doesn’t that sound well thought-out? I think it’s okay to procrastinate a little bit as long as you have a plan of when you will actually get stuff done.

There is a football game tonight, which means work will be extra crazy. I’m actually kind of excited about it.

NOTE: I've decided that posting everyday is silly. Sometimes I just don't have anything to say.

My One-hundred-and-thirtieth Post

Notes of interest from yesterday:
-I bought adorable shoes (I considered red ones, and grey ones, but I finally settled on the brown ones, and I'm in love with them)
-I experienced my first car accident (I was a only passenger, but it was still really scary)
-I broke my goal to blog everyday in November (but hopefully this will make up for it).


So it turns out I have an uncontrollable urge to supply a word when someone pauses in the middle of a sentence. I use it as a communication tool to (a) help the flow of the conversation and (b) convey my understanding of where the speaker is going. I think in casual conversation this can be useful. In class settings, though, it sometimes gets out of hand.

During a lecture, when a professor pauses, searching for a word, I can't keep myself from muttering an appropriate word under my breath. But I'm not as involved in class discussion as I would be during a conversation with an individual. So my thought process does not always follow the nuances of where the professor is driving the discussion, but instead forms its own pathways. The word I mutter under my breath is therefore more reflective of my thoughts than the professor's, and sometimes doesn't make sense in the context of the lecture. Unfortunately, this becomes a problem when I am sitting close enough to the lecturer that they overhear my muttering. Since they are searching for a word, they immediately pick up on my suggestion, but then realize it doesn't make sense, using up even more time as they attempt to find the right word.

Take this morning, for example. We were discussing grammar structure. As in nouns and semi-colons and such. My mind was somewhat distracted, so I started thinking about how semicolons act as a mirror in sentences. On one side there is an idea, and then on the other side a reflection, distortion, or expansion of that idea. Feeling quite pleased with this comparison, I jumped back into the lecture just as my professor was saying "And so, while commas act as separators, semi-colons function as..." And then he paused. My need to 'fill the void' kicked in automatically. Because of my thoughts, the most obvious word to supply was the word "mirrors," which I murmured quietly to myself. My professor over heard this, and (since it didn't really make sense in context) it took him a few moments to process it and understand where my thoughts were. We then ended up having a side conversation about that idea, while the rest of the class sat confused for a minute or two. Thus my mumbling managed to derail an entire lecture. While in this instance it actually made me feel kind of cool, the result is more often simply disruptive or embarrassing. I really wish I could find an on/off switch for this habit.

My One-hundred-and-twenty-ninth Post

I have a pad of post-it notes conveniently located on my desk*. I have it there so that I can write down important things. Right now, I have written the number 27 and circled it several times. Clearly, this is something important I need to remember. Too bad I have no idea what the 27 was supposed to remind me of.

*My desk is really just a tiny table I found in the top of my closet when I moved in. Before that, I had my computer set up on the floor in the corner of my dining room. The minuscule table is a marked improvement, but I don't think you can really call it a "desk."

My One-hundred-and-twenty-eighth Post

I'm cold.

And tired.

And I have a headache.

Welcome to Novemeber, everyone.

My One-hundred-and-twenty-seventh Post

As I was walking down the stairs in the Wilk today, there was an elderly man who offered to race me down. I won.

My One-hundred-and-twenty-sixth Post

So most of you Office fans out there remember the episode when Michael asked his employees to share stories about loved ones who had died. Ryan told a story about how his Uncle Mufasa had died in a wildebeest stampede in Africa (clearly using the very recognizable plot from The Lion King). This scene has inspired a game called My Uncle Mufasa, which works in a similar fashion. You basically tell a well-known story, only you slightly alter it so that it happened to someone you knew. The listeners have to try to identify what the original story was. As they figure it out, they raise their hands, and the last one to get it loses. Usually you’ll start off with something obscure (“An old friend of mine grew up working in a circus act, but he quit when his entire family died in a freak accident”), and then as the story goes on, you can make it more obvious (“Eventually he became the ward of a famous millionaire. They ended becoming partners and formed an awesome dynamic duo.”). If there are people who still don’t get it, you can become a little more forceful (“It’s a good thing he paired up with that millionaire, otherwise he might have resorted to robbin’ people to get by.”). It’s a fun game, especially if you’re playing with a good group of people.

So the point of telling you this is so I can share this humorous incident from my history class last night. We were discussing the Great Depression, and the professor asked if anyone had any stories about the lives of their ancestors from that period. Several people shared brief anecdotes, and one guy raised his hand and told how his great-great-grandfather had moved his large family from Lithuania to Chicago in hopes of improving their lives. But, when he lost his job at the meatpacking plant, he ended up doing dirty deeds for the political bosses in the area just to survive. (In case you didn’t recognize it, that is a very brief plot synopsis of The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, which we had read the month before.) Now this was towards the end of a 2½ hour class, and most of the students were zoned out or sleeping. Those of us who were actually paying attention, though, started looking around wildly trying to catch someone’s eye to confirm that, yes, that really did just happen. The professor just smirked slightly, and commented that perhaps the guy’s grandfather should have written a book about his experiences. Then he called on another guy who was raising his hand who told a story about how his family had owned a farm in Oklahoma, but that it had been destroyed in the Dust Bowl. They had to migrate to California looking for work as fruit pickers and ended up living in an abandoned railroad car until the economy recovered. (This, of course, was an adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath.) I couldn’t believe it! We were actually playing My Uncle Mufasa in the middle of a history class! And it was hilarious! I think our professor started to sense how far this could get out of hand when three more hands went up. He ended the class discussion and continued on with the rest of his lecture. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy it made me.



**Warning** Some parts of this incident may have occured only in my imagination. But, trust me, it's more fun to imagine they're real.