Something Is Happening In My Brain.

So. There's this guy. Let's name him...Boy. Because, well, he's a guy. 

So, Boy. He's cute. And by cute, I mean he's freaking hot. In a goofy sort of way. He's the guy I told you about previously, the Orchadork. The one Prancer claimed I had a crush on and I protested on the terms that a girl can be friends with a guy who she thinks is attractive but not have a crush on him but then I admitted that I might have a teensy crush on. Yeah. Him.

I do have a crush on him. 

I realized this as I was sitting in one of the really comfy chairs outside of my Music in Film class, which Boy is also in, and the class was going to start soon, so everyone was starting to file in. I had to pack up my book (I hadn't quite finished my reading for History) and iPod and whatnot, so I was being slow. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Boy coming down the hall, and he was about to walk into the class room, when he stopped. he hung awkwardly off the door for a good minute as I packed up my stuff, and held the door open for me. It made me smile. 

We sit across from each other in the class, so not looking at him is impossible. Every time I look at him, if he happens to be looking at me, he'll do something to make me laugh. He's a goofy sort of guy. It's nice, because every other guy I know tries to put on this tough guy front. Even Prancer. It's nice knowing a guy who's not afraid to act dumb. It's quite endearing. 

We were watching "Casablanca" in Music in Film. It is now my favorite movie. There's so many iconic quotes from that film that have slipped into mainstream culture, and it was great hearing them in their original context. And it doesn't hurt that Boy has been setting some of them as his Facebook statuses for the past few days...

It's weird feeling this way about a guy. I've had crushes on guys, sure, but I always at some point want to smack them. And I never seem to be able to actually talk to them. Yeah, I'll chat, but not seriously talk. 

There was one guy, let's name him....actually, let's not name him. Because the second I name him, I'll describe him. And once I describe him, he'll start reading this, and know exactly what I'm talking about. Actually, he knows I had a crush on him, and we discussed it. So, let's call him...Grumpy. Because he's a grouch. And I've mentioned him in passing before. As part of a musical venture he's part of with his brothers. Yeah. That guy. We had a serious discussion, about what sort of person he was (A very jaded, and somewhat annoying person. That's okay Grumpy, I still like you.), and why I had a crush on him. And while I was feeling happy and bubbly for a while, he went and got a girlfriend. So that's why I'm slightly apprehensive about discussing things other than music and trivialities with guys I have a crush on. But I'm not bashing Grumpy in any way, shape, or form. I still consider him one of my closest friends. Well, not closest. But definitely someone I can easily talk to. I think the only reason he could hurt me was because he knew me well, and knew how I felt. So My fingers and toes are crossed that Boy isn't reading this. Because if he is, it's gonna be a long and awkward semester. 

I have to go now. Ninja forgot her I.D. again and can't swipe past the lock on our hallway, so I have to torment her through the little window and eventually let her in. 'Cause I'm a terrible person like that. And this post is getting way too long. 

Heart, me.

My Suite Mates Are Driving Me Nuts.

I have to pee. Really badly. Why am I writing instead? Because my darling suite mates have been in the bathroom for a good hour. I don't know what they're doing in there. I don't know if it's just one of 'em or both. The shower turns on, a minute later it turns off. A minute later, it's back on. And repeat. For an hour. My bladder is about to declare war on my jeans. 

The bathroom is our war zone. Every morning, one of my suite mates, let's call her Thing 1, like Dr. Seuss, gets in the shower just as I get out of bed. She has her first class the same time I do, so that makes sense. So she goes into the bathroom at 8:15am. She doesn't come out until 8:40. And then, she darts in and out, drying her hair, brushing her teeth, whatever. If I'm lucky, I get into the bathroom by 8:50, just in time to splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and sprint across campus for my 9:30am class. I was sneaky and conniving this morning, however. I snuck into the bathroom right when she left after her shower. So I was able to take a decnt shower this morning. I was nice though. I was out in ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. So she could pick up her daily torture-the-suite-mate routine. 

My other suite mate, let's name her Thing 2, going along with the Dr. Seuss theme, leaves her hair EVERYWHERE. I think I've whined about her before. I have. She's the one who never cleans and washes her clothes in the bathtub every midnight.

So anyway- YES! SHE'S OUT OF THE BATHROOM!!

Sorry. I got excited. I was able to go potty. I'm in a better mood now, I promise. 

Next semester I'm so getting an apartment.

Heart, me.

I Should Be Doing My Homework.

I love to procrastinate. So here's a list of things I do to avoid doing my homework:

1. Post on this blog.

2. Facebook.

3. Text Prancer.

4. Call Twin.

5. Hang out with Ninja.

6. Facebook.

7. Watch "The Vampire Diaries" on Hulu.

8. Watch "NCIS" on Hulu.

9. Watch "Lie to Me" on Hulu.

10. Watch "White Collar" on Hulu.

11: Watch "House" on Hulu.

12. Facebook.

13. Make irrelevant and pointless blog posts.

14. Put on make up.

15. Clean my room.

16. Brush my hair.

17. Take pictures.

18. Facebook.

19. Write songs.

20. Update my Flickr.

21. Make lists.

22. Walk aimlessly down the hall and back.

23. Explore campus.

24. Facebook.

25. Dance.

26. Twitter.  

27. Go on adventures with Ninja.

28. Go to Target and Hastings with Ninja.

29. Pretend to do my homework.

30. Facebook.

I promise, this list could go on forever. 

Heart, me.

I Should Really Change My Guitar Strings.

Have you ever had something you know you needed to do urgently, but really don't want to? Yeah. I know how that goes. I have two packs of guitar strings now, sitting on my desk staring at me. I haven't changed my guitar strings in a while, and as a result, they sound terrible. But I'm not entirely confident in my string-changing abilities, and therefore have been putting off changing my strings. But I miss playing guitar. I haven't done it in a while, because I've been busy with school. I think I'm gonna sequester myself in my room all of this weekend and play guitar. Maybe I'll change my strings tonight. I really don't want to. I'm scared I'll screw up my guitar. 

I'll leave you with my insecurities now, and go to class. Sociology. I get to learn how weird people act in groups.

Heart, me.

This Is Why I Hate Fire Drills.

I should be grateful, I guess, that we don't have a fire drill in the middle of the night. But once we got back inside from this lovely little exercise, the alarms in my hallway would not stop. Not the building fire alarm, that ended a while ago. The annoying high pitched ringing that tells us when someone opened the emergency door at the end of the hallway. It's still ringing. So me and my whole hallway are lurking in the common room with our laptops. So that's where I'm writing from. I actually don't have anything to write/gripe about. I'm just really bored. We're all waiting for the maintenance folk to come and turn off the damn alarms. 

Oh, hey, here they are now. I think I'm gonna go regain my hearing now. I came up with a really good idea to write about the other night, right after I posted a letter to Prancer, but I was already snuggled into bed and didn't feel like writing. So now I've gone and forgotten my brilliant idea. 

I'm hungry.

Heart, me.

A Note To The Gentlemen In My Life.

Hello, Dearlings. 

A few of you, I genuinely like. Most of you, I tolerate. Some of you, I despise. And some, I keep you around just 'cause you're fun to look at. So, If your attention span is shorter than that of an ADD goldfish, feel free to sort yourself into one of the below categories and simply read that. 

To The Guys I'm Strictly Platonic Friends With:

While I'm glad you confide in me as you would another guy, please don't fill me in on all your sexual conquests. I especially don't want to hear about your drunken exploits. I really don't care that you didn't wake up in your own bed this morning, or you had a drunken emotional breakdown last night. Some stories are best left in the figurative locker room. 

I'm glad I have you guys around though, because I can talk to you without worrying what you think of me. You've been around through all my awkwardness, and I've been there for yours. Trust me, I still remember that time I jumped out at you and you screamed for your mommy. And yes, I will mention it the firt few times you bring a girl home from college. 

To The Guys Who I've... Been More Than Just Friends With:

Yes, you've almost been in my pants. And Yes, you're a bit older than me. But I promise, you act younger. But I still care about you. You're a part of my life that I can't get rid of. Even though sometimes you make me want to bash you in the head with my guitar, I don;t want to lose you.

To The Guys Who Fancy Themselves A Romantic Prospect:

Seriously, man. Smack yourself real quick. Not too hard. Randomly asking me out will not elicit the response you're hoping for. I might be a little creeped out. Get to know me first, please. That's all I ask. And making jokes about how little I am will not get you anywhere, much less within a foot of my pants. 

To Prancer: 

Yes, you get your own category. Why? Because you're weird. And sometimes I'm not entirely sure I can classify you as a boy. Kidding! 

Seriously, bud, you've been around for way too long. I like how I can call your mom "Momma" and she answers. I don;t remember not calling her Momma. 

It's kinda weird being a thousand miles away. I realized that as I was texting you a few minutes ago. My phone is strangely silent, so I think you're currently preoccupied with....stuff. ;)

And since you helped me with my boy drama, I guess I'll help you with your girl issues, should they ever manifest (Big word. Look it up). 

But do note, however, that once you bring a girl home over break, the stories of your awkwardness will come out. As will pictures. And yes, I've still got those. 

To The Guys Who Don't Know Me:

I'm not weird, I promise. Just a little out there. But it's all good. I'm cute. 

Well, that's all my Y-Chromosome'd friends. I hope you paid attention and took notes. 

Heart, me.

There Are Ninjas In Our Midst.

I thought I would take some time and introduce you to one of my friends. You've already met Twin, and Prancer, and I'm pretty sure I mentioned Ginny and Elf. Those are all my friends from home. So, for the very first time, I'm going to present to you one of my friends from college. Let's call her...Ninja. Because she's stealthy, Asian (Filipino. Close enough.), and a black belt. She lives down the hall from me. She seems like she's a mix of Twin and Elf. we plan to explore campus this weekend. Specifically, we plan to look for playgrounds on campus. We found one, right outside the dorms. Yes, that's how cool my school is. We have a swing set by the dorms. And a sand volleyball court. 

I'm sitting here with my door open (No, I'm not one of those folk who set traps to make friends, Ninja just left my room and I'm too lazy to go shut my door.), and the girl who lives right across the hall just got back from her morning classes. She's such a drama queen. It's pretty annoying. She has loud arguments with her various boyfriends over the phone all the time, and has loud and aggravating friends who don't live here always hanging out outside her door.

Speaking of annoying people who we live with, my suitemates are nuts. I told you this, right? Well, the one who washed her clothes every midnight also leaves her hair everywhere. I cleaned my shower yesterday morning, and when I went to take a shower before bed, the tub looked like a yeti drowned in it while fighting a yak. It was gross. I mean, I get that she's from China, and her family could afford to pay people to clean their house everyday. Labor's cheap in China. Unfortunately, we're not in China, and therefore have to clean our own bathrooms. And finding hair that's not yours sucks. And I know it's not mine. Not only do I not molt, but my hair is a good two feet long. And my other suitemate's hair is two inches long, and not to mention, bright blond. So there's only one possible culprit. 

People annoy  me sometimes.

I'm hungry. I'm gonna go eat lunch before I have to go to Sociology lecture, so you can think of a clever nickname for my crazy suitemates. 

Heart, me.

Dear Prancer, I Need Your Brain.

While being a girl is fun and all, sometimes I need a boy brain. No, not boy parts. Then skinny jeans wouldn't be as comfy. But just a guy's perspective. And that's where Prancer comes in. He's the sort of guy who I'll randomly text (and I did this today), "Hey. You're a boy, right? Can I borrow your brain?" And instead of getting all snippy, he'll say "What now??!?!?!?!?!?!" With a million exclamation points and question marks. Because he's used to me.

I was having boy drama today, so I was bouncing ideas off of him. And by bouncing, I mean I was slinging issues at him with a catapult. Metaphorically speaking. I seem to be big on the metaphors all of a sudden. Weird.

Lucky for me, he was chucking back suggestions. And providing insight into the male brain. (Gentlemen, there is a traitor in your midst. Hurt him and I'll neuter you with bobby pins and salt water.) 

But seriously, guys, why on earth are you so annoying? You can be happy and friendly one day, and three days later you're tense and quiet. 

And this guy in particular, the source of the drama, not Prancer, is the ONLY person I've ever met who I haven't been able to read. Yeah, I read people. Like books. Some are very graphic, and some are boring. But books. All of them. 

Have I told you? I met a guy at my school EXACTLY like Prancer. It's kinda bizarre. Ridiculously bizarre, actually. 

So, Prancer, you were of some use to me. Thanks, bud. Now go shower. 

Heart, me.

*Cough* *Cough* I'm Homesick.

Does anyone ever have those days where anything ridiculous that could possibly happen does? Yeah. It's been one of those days. Hell, it's been one of those weeks. College is just panning out to be one big drama. I should have cameras following me around. I could make millions.

But seriously.

All this drama is gonna drive me off the deep end someday. And I'm already near the diving board. 

Why did I just use a swimming metaphor? I don't swim. I am not a swimmer. I float. I paddle. But I don't swim. My shoulders are too femininely delicate to classify me as a swimmer. 

I'm exhausted. That's right, I'll blame it on exhaustion. College. I haven't gone to bed before one in the morning for a very long time. I miss my bed at home. I went from sleeping on a double pillow-top with two extra comforters under a mattress pad for extra floofiness to a four inch nylon-covered slab with a lame excuse for a mattress pad. I miss my bed, dammit. I wish I was close enough to home that I could go home for a weekend. Blargh. I'm gonna go take my frustrations out on the poor souls in the common room. 

Heart, me.

Family Blogs Make Me Laugh.

I love looking at those blogs people put up, you know what I'm talking about, the ones with the awkward picture of a family posed under a tree or in front of a cute little house. They all have some clever title, that indicates the the writer, usually the mother, is overworked and under appreciated, but she still loves her family so much that she puts them on the internet. I don't like them because I enjoy creeping on the children on random strangers. I like them because they make me laugh. Why would someone blog about something so inane as a toddler's breakfast? I don't need to see twenty pictures of a smiling baby covered in tomato sauce. It just bugs me. I feel like it should be more important to spend time with your kids as they're growing up rather than documenting every stupid thing they do and posting it online for total strangers to read about. But I'm weird like that. 

Heart, me.

I Think You Should Check These Guys Out.

Alright, so some of my friends have a band. And they're good. Like, REALLY good. They make me smile every time I listen to them. The band, Sole Prerogative, is comprised of a set of triplets, and their friend. Not only are they a great band, but they're great guys too. Really friendly and entertaining. And sometimes grumpy. (Yes, you. You know who you are. Smile, dammit.) 

They made it to the Final Round of the 2010 Tri-C High School Rock Off, and in my enlightened opinion, they should have won. But, I'm not gonna gripe. *mumblegrumble*

Here's the link to their very first album:

http://www.purevolume.com/SolePrerogative/albums/Still+Waiting

Get it. Seriously, like, now. Is it downloading yet? DO IT. 

Enjoy!

Heart, me.

I Hope You'll Be Okay Without Me.

Well hello. For all three of you that read my blog regularly, and Prancer who just likes stalking me, I'm not posting this weekend. Why? Because I'm gonna be busy. And laptop-less. So there. So unfortunately, you'll have to go two days without your fix of my wit and wisdom, and occasional griping. I hope you don't die of boredom. But if you do, make sure you note in your wills that people should read this, because I'm quite entertaining. Have a reasonably okay weekend!

Heart, me.

Well, Hello Hermine. Nice of You to Visit. Now Leave.

I woke up this morning, and it was so incredibly tempting to go right back to sleep. It was drippy and dreary out, and I knew my little red umbrella would not go the whole day without flipping inside out at least once. 

I was right. On the way back to my room after my last class, Sociology, in case anyone cares, my umbrella, in the ten minute walk, flipped out no less than eight times. It was unpleasant, to say the least. And i was in flip flops and leggings, because I don't have rainboots, and am waiting for someone to take me to Target so i can buy a pair. 

It's supposed to rain all week. I might cry. I like rain, I really do. What i don't like is puddles that could span my bedroom, deep enough to swallow my foot. And the obnoxious prats on bikes who zip around splashing me. You know who you are. -.- 

I'm gonna go dry off now. Maybe go to sleep and not wake up until it's sunshiney again. 

Heart, me.

I Listen to Eclectic Music.

I've been sitting in my room a good portion of my three weeks so far in college, not because I'm antisocial but because where else is a little girl supposed to do homework at 3am? Anyway, I've been sitting in my room, and I've realized as I'm sitting in my room that I listen to some weird music. Not weird like screaming death metal. But music that conflicts with itself. Like, I listen to Muse and Red Hot Chili Peppers as well as Boys Like Girls, Fall Out Boy, and the score from Titanic. And I can do it all in one sitting. If anyone particularly cares, I'm currently listening to "Ruled by Secrecy" by Muse. It's amazing. I think my favorite song by Muse right now is "Map of the Problematique." It's got a killin' guitar part, as my guitar teacher would say. He's the one who got me into Muse. I sort of like pop, but not overly sugary pop. Like, I'll listen to Christina Aguilera, Kelly Clarkson, Katy Perry, stuff like that, but I REFUSE to listen to Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus. I'm sure their music appeals to their target audience, or at the very least, pre-teen girls, but I just don't like it. And their voices kind of really annoy me too. I really like Boys Like Girls right now. Just putting it out there. They're not too pop-y, but they're not "Oh My Gosh we're so jaded and tough." I mean, they're a boy band. You can only act so tough when your fan base is screaming girls. I like Fall Out Boy too. But they "went on hiatus." Which makes me sad. I get it, they've been together for a long time and want to pursue other ventures, but they were my favorite band ever. I like all of their lyrics. And the rest of the song too.

I feel like an ADD goldfish right now. I hope you've enjoyed this commentary on my music collection, because I've just seen something shiny.

Heart, me.

Your Door Being Open Doesn't Mean I Care.

To the Nuts Living in My Hall:

Forgive me if I sound at all cynical or antisocial. Hell, I sound like the freaking Grinch right now. But if I'm walking down the hallway with an overloaded backpack, juggling my laptop and keys, I probably don't want to stop and say hi to you. Sure, you may be all happy and bubbly, leaving your door wide open so the whole world can watch you get your Facebook or update your Twitter. But I don't care. I don't care how many classes you've had today. Chances are, I've had just as many, if not more. I don't care if you have an English paper due in two weeks. And no, I won't help you. Just because I took -and got fantastic scores on, might I add- AP English for two years and therefore not have to take a First Year Introduction to Composition course, that does not mean I am some writing genius. Even if I am. Guess what. I have four other courses that require my writing genius. I don't have time to explain passive voice versus active voice to you. Google it, love. 

I'm glad that you're a happy person. And I'm glad you want to make new friends in college. But spring your "Hi! Let's be best friends!" trap on someone else. 

Thank you!

Me.

I hope you enjoyed that. I'm not usually so mean, but some types of people seriously get to me. I like friendly people, I really do. But when their friendliness rivals that family from "RV," I just start throwing things.

heart, me.

Dear Prancer, You Might have Been Right.

For all intents and purposes, this is purely hypothetical, Or else dear Prancer's head might explode. 

So there's this guy. No, not Prancer. I don't like him like that. Me and Prancer have more of a "I'll smack you from time to time but that's 'cause you're one of my best friends" sort of relationship. So this other guy, who doesn't have a nickname yet because I haven't thought of one, is in one of my classes. He also lives on my floor. He's really cute, in an attractively scruffy sort of way.He's really nice too. And really into music, like me. So we have a fair amount to talk about. But he's in orchestra, and I'm a band geek, so that could be an issue. (For you non-musical fiends, Orchestra and Band kids like to rip on each other. It's a dork thing.) So I was discussing him with Prancer, because Prancer just moved into his own dorm across the country and is lonely and friendless, therefore he runs crying to me. And Prancer had a theory. Prancer's theory was that  I have a crush on this nameless guy. And I'm denying it. A girl can be friends with a guy she believes is attractive and not have a crush on him, right?

But. I've been hanging out with this guy, and talking to him, and.....

I think I might have a teensy crush on him.

I don't know. It's weird. He's a really sweet guy, and easy to talk to, but I feel like I don't really know him. I don't know. We'll see how it works out. 

Heart, me.

P.S. Prancer, you bring any of this up, and not only will I deny everything, but I will show up outside your dorm and destroy you. And by destroy you, I mean destroy your shoes.