Probably won't post for awhile.

Going off the grid.  Don't ask.  It doesn't really matter to you anyways.
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It's not like your life will be all that different.

Here's some pictures to make it up to you:

Hope it made you laugh.

On the downhill.

I do that.  I'll get really social, hanging out with people, and then I'll realize that I actually really do need time to myself because the more I am social the more tired I get.

Even if it's fun.
Even if I love who I'm with.

Sometimes I just need to be left alone.

...That and... certain people drive me crazy.

Have you ever been around a group of people that seems to all love each other....when everyone's present?

And then as soon as one person isn't there, it's an all out bitch-fest.

That person is clingy/annoying/repetitive/stupid/irritating/useless....whatever.  On and on and on.  And as soon as that person is back everyone is friendly.

Seriously?

Unfortunately, despite some of these rather unfortunate behaviors, I still like the people.  All of them.  Even those poor people that get unknowingly ostracized.

I guess that makes me an idiot.  Add that to the list of character traits you've probably already figured out from reading.

But what do you do? Tell that person?  Let them know that everything is not as it seems? What if they're happy?  Do I really want to be that person that ruins everything? Or am I just cowardly?

I guess this is why I can never truly be part of a group of friends.  I'm like a shared electron.

One atom, another atom, and yet another...always in orbit and never permanent.  I'm not the inner circle.  Ever.

 .........Maybe that's wrong.  Scientifically.  I was never into that crap anyway.

I could never be part of the inner circle.  People would notice when I retreated into myself and show concern.  Even if it's totally false concern.

Nah.  Better to be on the outside.
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Who knows.  In your group of friends, you may be that person.  The one that thinks everything is great, until you walk away.  Better to just stay away right?

I may have an anxiety issue.

I was thinking about this yesterday, as I was lying in bed hoping for sleep so I could escape my headache.

People have even posed the theory that anxiety causes my headaches.  Some of these people are the same people that expect so much from me. Funny...that.

I don't have full-blown panic attacks, not really.  Not unless I'm trying to do math homework.  Because let's be real, math makes me a helpless, writhing, scarred individual wishing for mercy.

Stripper  Dog Trainer

But really, anxiety attacks are not my normal.  I can keep my cool.  I only have maybe 3 mental breakdowns a semester.  

That's not too bad for a double major with a 4.0. 

Not to mention, I go through the same thing every time.  Pacing.  Loud music.  Crying.  Calling boyfriend.  Screaming at boyfriend that I'm not coming out of my room for a week.

Then the next day he'll call and check on me....am I going to class?  I'll sheepishly say yes.  

It's the same every time.

Maybe it's because I keep my cool too much.  

And it's all bottled up.  And it's expressed in headaches...and an intense hate for obnoxious people. 

It's something that's natural I think.  We all know I'm not an optimist.  I see the dark side of everything.  I assume I'll lose, but I try to win.  If I get optimistic I swear it's the only time I'm truly crushed. So I'll hedge my bets and be pleasantly surprised if things turn out great.  And if they don't?  I get to say "I told you so".  There's a special satisfaction in that phrase.

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There's this thing my mother and I go through all of the time.  I'll start over-thinking something.  It's the way I work.  I would rather think of everything beforehand then be surprised (it kinda sucks when I guess my birthday/Christmas presents a month beforehand though).

So I'll be worrying out loud. 

"What if....?

"...What if?"

"BUT what if?"

All of these possible outcomes swirl around my head.  I have to find solutions to the ones that are impossible to solve.  And I know it.  But I worry anyway.  Because, I know I don't have the answer....so WHAT IF that happens?  I'M SCREWED.

My mom will get frustrated with me and try to tie me back down to earth.

"Not WHAT IF, Jenny, WHAT IS", she'll say.

I'll pause for a second.  Absorb the wisdom.  Do such a good job absorbing it that it dissolves in my brain.  I stop for all of 10 seconds....

"................but WHAT IF"

And I'm sure at this point my mom is contemplating how much she would hurt tomorrow if she picked me up and threw me out the window.

The point is, I don't think I can stop.  I have so many things going on, that I'm always going to worry.  I'll worry about events, people, animals, obligations, deadlines, sleep, studying, grades, work, other work, more work, and then if I have time I might worry about me some more.

And as I get things accomplished it gets a little better, only to start a new day with new stress.  It's just the way my life is.

My "easy" days always end up with me running around doing one thing after another.  Sometimes I feel like the only time I sit down is in class.

And that's not even that comfortable.  My feet like to fall asleep.  Hobbling out of class is always so awkward.

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I may have an awkwardness issue.

For whatever reason...

I keep falling behind on posts this week.

Apparently I average out to every-other-day.  That's pretty good I guess, gives everyone something to laugh at (even if that something is me, rather than the blog).

But I was sick as a dog yesterday....

        ....hold up.  Let's examine that real quick.  Who is really "sick as a dog"?  Why haven't we gotten that dog help?  Do you see sick dogs everywhere?  Where did that phrase come from?

No, I'm not going to look it up and post it here.  Have some initiative and look it up yourself if you're curious.

But anyway, I was in bed, trying to sleep, for most of the day.

Happy RA appreciation day to me.

Not.

However, I went to a RA inservice and found out I'm getting a bonus on my stipend for my 4.0.

Happy RA Appreciation day to me.

YES.

So I get that check Friday and I will no longer be broke.  It's a wonderful feeling, not being broke.
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I've really got nothing to write about.  I'm just kinda blank today.
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No really, come back later.

Just in time for Valentine's day...

I want to talk about a pet peeve of mine.

And by pet peeve, a mean arch-nemesis of the facebook universe.

That is, of course, the little heart you can make by entering < and then 3.

Screw those little hearts: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥


I hate them.

It's not just the hearts.  It's the way people use them.

If it was an incident where the heart was appropriate, like saying "I love you ♥ " it wouldn't be so bad.

But it never is.

It's all that preppy, girly, crap.

       Love late Friday Nights  ♥
       OMG Jersey Shore  ♥
       Painting Nails  ♥
     
You know the type.

I can't stand it.  That, and song lyrics as a status.  When combined, it's unbearable.  I literally look at the sopping mess of melodrama and gag.

Please stop.

Your life is not that dramatic.  For one, the song probably isn't even about what you think it's about.  And then you have to add the heart.  Regardless of what the song is about.

I literally read the lyric...and then read "heart". Ew.  Even if the song lyric has nothing to do with love.  And you add a heart.

Do you like "heart" the song?
The artist?
The song content? (which is pretty weird, considering some of the crap you write)

The worst offenders of course are teenage girls, followed by the annoying facebook couple, followed by the overdramatic college chick.

STOP USING THE GODDAMN HEARTS.


That is all.  Have a happy Valentine's day.  Without the goddamn hearts.

I fall like it's an art form.

So the weekend is over.  I have to be on a 7:30 am shuttle tomorrow, and my day probably won't wind down until around 11 at night.

Such are my Tuesdays.

But what a weekend it was.

I woke up on Saturday morning (if you could call it that, it was almost noon), and proceeded to walk across our minuscule campus to the dining hall.  I found a group of friends and sat down with them.

Almost immediately (or at least, it felt like it) I was accosted with
           "Are you going ice skating with us today!??!?!?!?!?!"

Oh god.

I mumbled something about getting food before I answer any difficult questions.

Once I was full of french toast and eggs, I (for whatever reason) agreed to go ice skating.

I know, I know.  This is my fault and the fact that my shoulder STILL doesn't feel quite right is all on me.

But I digress.

We agree to meet up on the shuttle at 12:45, leaving me all of 20 minutes to get myself together to go ice-skating.

The first thing I do is change out of the jeans I'm wearing.  They have buttons on the back pockets and the image of having buttons surgically extracted from my butt from falling repeatedly is not a pleasant one.  I change into sweatpants, find some gloves, and brace myself for the inevitable pain.

After all, last time I tried something new and athletic with friends I ended up with a skinned knee and abs that hurt for days.

Flag football, psh.

You remember this?  Me too.

ANYWAY.

I went ice-skating.  

First I got the skates, and hooray!  They look better then the goddamned shoes you rent for bowling, though not by much.

I get onto the ice...

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Let me tell you something right now.  They tell you it's like rollerblading.  If you've been rollerblading, you'll know how to ice-skate.

FALSE.

If you've been rollerblading it just means you have a false sense of security that is dashed on the planes of slippery, slippery death beneath you.

So I'm skittering around like a fool, and I remind myself of those poor dogs and cats that wear snow booties for the first time.  They don't know what to do with their feet so they just stand still and glare at you.

Look at that glare of utter disdain.
Wait, hold up- LOOK AT WHAT THAT CAT IS WEARING!
Bahahahahha!

It was a free skate session, so I did have to move somehow:

                     Hi Wall, I'm Jenny.  Don't mind me groping you--- It's a necessity.


Eventually I did get moving, and I actually started doing pretty well. 

Until I felt the skates actually start to bend beneath me. 

........Really, it's no issue, I don't mind broken ankles.

After confirming that indeed, my skates were screwy, I got hockey skates and tried again.

MUCH better.  And by better I mean I was upright and moving.  Let's not get too ahead of ourselves.

Remember what I said about confidence?  And getting dashed on the ice?

Yeah, it happened.

I was zooming along, somewhat enjoying myself.  I'm minding my own damn business when this friggen old dude showing off zooms in front of me skating backwards, shoving me to the side.  

Well I had two options: take out a row of kids---and fall.

OR I could just fall.

I got the middle.  Trying not to get anyone, I still caught another girls skates.  At least she was my age. 

Fall #1, accomplished.

I moved my shamefaced and bruised-butted self off the ice for awhile.

.....until I went back out.

I'm upright and moving.  That's an accomplishment.

However, my friend taking the picture wanted all of us to turn and look at her.  I'm pretty sure I was yelling something about her being crazy.  I mean, turn my whole head, don't watch where I'm going, and SMILE for a picture?

Dream on,  Dream on.

Anyway.  I actually start to do quite well.  I'm more watchful of the showoffs, and I find out that I'm certainly not the only one knocked down by egotistical men in a midlife crisis.

And then something happened. 

I started to go around the turn.  I'd done several laps, but I don't know what was different this time.  All I know is I felt one of my ankles start to turn of its own accord, betraying me.  I imagine I looked quite ridiculous.

I managed to spin, and then fall promptly on my face.

I even got ice-shavings down my shirt.

And on that note, I decided to call it a day.

I sat in the stands for the remaining hour, and watched people get knocked over by the showoffs. 

.................It's much more enjoyable when you're not the one falling.

You would think that the achy, pulled, and bruised muscles would be the worst injury of the day...but no.

I wouldn't let you guys down like that.

I smashed my finger in a door...and ruined my BRAND NEW COAT OF NAIL POLISH.

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And that's where I'm gonna leave it.  Part II of this post up soon I guess.

My thought for the day: I wish it was socially acceptable to wear capes in public.

Really. That thought actually crossed my mind.  It's not my fault some chick in the dining hall was wearing a friggen' poncho and when she walked away it looked like a woolen cape.

Wool is not the traditional material for capes, but you get the idea.

NOT A CAPE
(Apparently ponchos are a hot Halloween item)

Oh hell yes.

Oh god.  I've stared at the word cape long enough to decide it's a weird word.

Moving on.

Anyway, she's walking around in a dull-grey colored poncho....

...stop right there:

              WHY THE HELL IS YOUR PONCHO GREY?  You actually dare to wear a friggen' poncho, but you don't get into all of the cool colors?  

....

Anyway.  She's walking around in her lifeless, colorless poncho: and as she walks away it billows behind her. 

Her mac-and-cheese certainly wasn't heroic (I know, I had some), so why the billowing?  Only capes should be allowed to billow.

Or Hogwarts school robes.  

Anyway.  If capes WERE socially acceptable, I'd wear one all the friggen' time.  I'm like my mom, swooping in and fixing things.  (Really, she'll walk in singing "Herrrrrrrrrrre I come to save the DAYYYYY)

Case in point: today I'm in the dining hall and my friend comes up to me and says his zipper is broken...

 (On his JACKET, god you guys need to get your minds out of the gutter)

...so of course I fix it.  

I'm doing stuff like this all of the time.  And running around campus LIKE A BOSS, doing a little bit of everything, and doing it awesomely.

I mean how else could I live my life?  I own it.  I'm amazing.

So I definitely deserve the cape.

This comic comes to mind:

Thank you Cyanide and Happiness!

If I have to do a little bit of everything, take care of a little bit of everyone, and do it LIKE A BOSS...

...don't I deserve a cape?

The closest thing I have to a cape in my closet is my fuzzy bathrobe.  That definitely wont work.  

At least I've got the whole, glasses/no glasses thing down.
Just a regular person, nothing to see here...

And then, suddenly......Now I'm SUPER-JENNY.

If you aren't impressed, then clearly you don't understand the magnitude of what it means to be me.

3000 views =]

Kazoooooooooooooooooooooooo, party noises, general happiness and cheer.

And some Blur, if you didn't get the idea.  WOO HOO!

I feel like I need to do a corny acceptance speech or something:  

"I didn't really think that this thing would be so popular when I started it.  And hey, maybe it's not that popular.

But the people who read it, seem to love it.  

So I'd like to thank everyone in my life.

Especially those particularly annoying people.  You are the butt of all of my jokes.  Except when I am.  Let's not talk about that.

Other people you are mandated to thank in an acceptance speech:

- Your parents

-Your significant other

- Some teacher who affected you

- Obscure people from your life

- People who made it happen

Crap like that.

So to my mom, who hoards my writing, and my boyfriend who has proofread more essays then I can count, and some teacher who may or may not have taught me how to write ('cause really, this kind of sarcasm is just natural), and some random person that I wont mention so you all think it's you (you're so vain, you probably think this speech is about you) and the Internet and Blogger and stuff....

...and all I ever wanted was to spread the word, world peace.... "

I may or may not be confusing this with winning a pageant

The inevitable tears.  Note the hand-fanning.  It's apparently essential.

We all know I'm totally appropriate as a pageant queen...

...Or not.  It had to happen. You know it.

...and I'm hungry. That's enough of that.
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Do pageant queens eat bacon-cheesy fries?

Oh hey, February!

You know what February means?  It means I've had this blog for almost a year.  Technically, I started this blog last year on February 24th.  I just checked.  I really didn't know that offhand, that would be weird.

Oh February.  Everyone hates you.

Mostly because of Valentines Day.   People are awful bitter when they don't have someone to spend it with.  I'm surprised no one really looks at it like Halloween:  even if you're not invited to that awesome Halloween party, you know ALL of that candy is going to be on sale in Wal-Mart the next day.

And who doesn't drown their sorrows in chocolate?  Let's not consider me here.  I don't like chocolate.

But hey,  all of you single/recently dumped people!  That's a lot of cheap candy!  Who cares if it's got "I Love You" embossed in chocolate?  It's not like it will re-open any emotional wounds or anything!

Oh, it will?  Sorry about that.

I know I shouldn't talk.  I haven't been single for a Valentine's Day in ages.  But my boyfriend certainly won't be around for this one (that whole separate college thing).

Poor February.  Yeah, maybe you have Valentine's Day, and everyone not in a committed relationship hates you.  But...

You also have the PUPPY BOWL!

Oh my god GIVE ME THE PUPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Annnnnnnd that's a beagle.  Game over.  Beagle wins!

Moral of the Story: puppies fix everything.