ew ew ew EW EW EW EW EWWWW

I started this blog to discuss the trials and tribulations of a typical liberal arts student at a typical liberal arts college in a typical situation.

I’ve officially hit the height of collegiate living.

The bottom drawer of my dresser wasn’t closing so finally I pulled it out to see why. Much to my surprise, I found a few shirts of mine that I’d been missing for sometime. Within that pile, I discovered a pair of boxers. A pair of men’s boxers. A pair of men’s boxers that don’t belong to me. A pair of men’s boxers that I’ve never seen before in my life. A pair of men’s boxers that have no doubt been beneath my dresser since last year.

I won’t touch them. I gingerly picked my clothes up from around them. And promptly threw them in my laundry basket. But my GOD. EW. EW. EW.

Underwear. NOT MINE. Beneath all my clothes.

And Speaking of Being Stronger than Things

Tragedy has struck in the form of late bloomers and hot pink. Confused? I’ll elaborate.

My senior year, I found the single most perfect dress in the entire world for prom. You know those dresses you know will only come around once in a lifetime because they fit your body and your personality to a tee. This perfect dress was purchased for a hefty price and was worn for my senior prom to great success. After the event, I carefully lay it in my closet, and hoped that someday, I’d be able to wear it again.

My wish came true, when my invitation for All-College Formal and Casino Night arrived in the campus mail. Freakishly excited, I telephoned my mother and pleaded and begged her to send my precious dress to me as soon as possible, along with the gold heels (what my best friend calls my “F*ck Me Heels”) (Sorry Mom) that match it. Truly, the most perfect outfit in the history of mankind.

Finally, the dress arrived. I tore through the packaging (carefully) and removed THE dress. I hung it on the wall. I admired it from close up. I admired it from afar. I sighed with sheer love for the dress. Finally, the moment of truth. I shimmied into the dress, and had a friend zip it. Until…”it won’t go up.” What? What do you mean it won’t go up?

With great tugging, pulling, and cracked ribs, we managed to zip the dress to the top. Two problems occured to me instantly. The first was that I couldn’t breathe. The second was that my chest was quite possibly closer to my chin than my collar bones.

I was furious. I would have hyperventilated had I the ability to inflate my lungs. I called my mother instantly. “I told you so.” Well of course, she was right. But how frustrating. I waited 18 years for a decent upper half, and when I finally get it, it doesn’t fit into THE dress. That’s just karma kicking you straight in the butt with some serious high heels on.

I decided to search for a new dress, and with a few friends, traveled to a vintage dress shop in the next town over. My problem persisted. From the rib cage down, everything fit. From the rib cage up? Not happening, kid. Not happening.

I called my mother, aka my Fashion Guru, once again. I suggested that perhaps my dress didn’t fit as well because I had just eaten before I tried it on. She conceded that was a possibility. I then confessed I hadn’t found a replacement dress. “Well,” she said “There’s one choice left.” “What’s that?” I inquired.

“Practice taking very small breaths.”

Pennsylvania Has Made a Mockery of Me

Approximately 365 days ago, I lived in Connecticut full time. This 35 degrees farenheit didn’t bother me a bit. No siree, cold and I were good buddies.

In my time as a college student in South Central Pennsylvania, I have discovered my tolerance for cold has greatly diminished. It’s 35 degrees? Oh man, everyone needs to start boarding up the windows, hell is freezing over. Let’s huddle under our covers in our bed strategically placed next to the heater. The absolute fear of leaving that warm cave every morning occasionally seems like an excellent reason to not attend class. Granted, one then mentally dope slaps themselves out of bed. I used to openly mock my friend from Florida, who nearly died when the temperature dropped to 50 degrees. My friend from WayUpNorth Lodi, NY and I found ourselves bundled up in the 40s, and huddling together for warmth on the way to the cafe yesterday evening in the 30s.

I’m sorry world. I used to be so much stronger than this.

Things I’ve Learned Since 7:30 AM This Morning

1. I have an unhealthy obsession with Brit Rock.
2. Jean Jaques Roussea was a lazy fat ass who would have made far more sense if he had actually tested any of his theories.
3. Mmm, wool cable knit.

This is What Happens When I’m Too Sick To Be Original and Someone Else Posted it First

LIFE
they call me: the cutest little blogger north of the mason-dixon line
status: single
occupation: lazy college student
best friends: a determined roanoke college student, and a wicked hot alabama student

REWIND
my first breath of air: November 8th.
most memorable memory: The night on the rooftop in Beer Sheva.
worst memory: February 24, 2004

LOVE
love is: Something to aspire to, but not worth pursuing at this stage in life.
love or lust: Lust
when love hurts you: Chalk it up to experience.
is there such thing as love at first sight: No

OPPOSITE SEX
turn ons: Well, if he’s a rock star, that’s a plus.
do your parent’s opinion on your bf/gf matter to you: Absolutely. My mother has an annoying habit of being right.
what kind of hair style: Not. Emo.
where do you go to meet new people: I don’t.

PICKY PICKY
cat or dog: Dog
short or long hair: Long
rain or shine: Shine
sun or moon: Sun
one best friend or ten acquaintances: One best friend
summer or winter: Winter
playstation or nintendo: Neither. I don’t play videogames.
car or motorcycle: Car
house party or club: House party.

LATELY
how are you today: I have a fever, can’t breathe through my nose, and may have hacked up a lung. How the hell do you think I am?
what pants are you wearing right now: Target jeans.
What shirt are you wearing right now: Dickinson t-shirt, Dickinson hoodie.
how is the weather right now: I don’t know. I haven’t left my dorm yet.
last person you talked to on the phone: My dad.
last dream you can remember: Something in the cafe with lots of people and day glo.
who are you talking to right now: Dan

MORE ABOUT YOU
what are the last four digits of your phone number: 0327
if u were a crayon, what color would you be: Cerulean
what’s the next cd you are going to buy: Modern Skirts
what’s the best advice ever given to you: If you’re in a relationship you can’t tell your parents about, you know it’s wrong.
have you ever won any special award: No.
how many kids do you want to have: None. Hopefully.
shampoo: Pantene Pro-V
how many TV’s do you have in your house: 1. In my dorm room.
do you have your own TV: No. It’s my roomates.
who do you dream about: Some craaaazy stuff.
who do you tell your dreams to: No one.
who’s the loudest friend you have: Probably me
Whos the quietest friend: Margs

HAVE YOU EVER
drank: Yeeesss.
stayed in your pj’s all day: Absolutely!
left your state: Yep.
left your country: Yep
drank milk straight from the carton: I. Hate. Milk.
tripped up the stairs: Weekly.
tummy ache: Yes.
wished upon a star: Yes
had it come true: No
slapped someone: No
danced like a maniac: All the flippin’ time!
chased a butterfly: Probably last summer.
gone on a cruise: no
driven a motor boat: no
put salt on a slug and watched it shrivel up: Yes. It was gross.
burned stuff just because: Yes
been called a pyro: No
seen a ghost: No
had something published: YES!!!!!
written on money: Yes
lost someone you cared about: Yes
ran away: No
punched a wall: No
punched a person: No
talked to a street sign: Yes. But I may not have been in the straightest of states.
shopped at wal-mart for over an hour: Yes. *Shame*
been a hero: No
taken a picture of yourself: yes! I like photos!
had a journal: Yes
worn mardi-gras beads:Yes
been to Mardi-gras: No
heard a damaging story about your parents when they were younger/or older: If I have, I think I probably blocked it out.
heard of blind melon: Yes. That one song. That isn’t good.
started a trend: No
been to a rally (for a cause, not a pep-rally): Yes. 2.
given up on your dreams: Yes
had your dreams come true:
seen someone as your guardian angel: no
protested the national anthem by not standing when everyone else does: No
had a pen-pal: yes
met someone famous: no
gone out with one of your best friends: no
put a message in a bottle: no
sent a telegram: no
received flowers: Yes
listened to a sea-shell: Yes
been stung by a jellyfish: no
been on tv: maybe?
played tag when you were over the “acceptable” age: try lats weekend
notice patterns in the time (11:11, 12:34, etc…): Yes
had your mom show off embarrassing baby pictures of you when your were little to your friends/boy/girlfriend: no
been arrested: no
been put in jail: no
been put on trial: no
re-named yourself: no
followed someone just because: no
been stalked: kinda
stalked someone: facebook stalked
lived a day like it was your last day: no
had your 15 minutes of fame: no
been self-conscious: is it obvious that that one hair is curled?
been in a band: no
started a band: no
sat and watched smoke float through the air: yes
want to be somewhere with someone so much it made you cry: no
played a practical joke: yes
had a practical joke played on you: yes

PEOPLE THINK
my father thinks I am: Pretty freakin’ sweet
my mother thinks I am: Pretty freakin’ sweet
my boyfriend/girlfriend thinks I am: only not
you are often complimented for: My hair, my eyes, my other excellent traits
you get embarrassed when: ever I open my mouth
what makes you happy: sunshine
upsets you: stupid people

Now That It’s Not So Early…

I absolutely forgot how much warmer wool is than cotton.
So I’ve avoided the rock tee shock and switched to a wool sweater.
Ah, the simplicities in life.

It’s Too Early For This, But…

Dear World,
Is it wrong to wear an AC/DC zip up hoodie over my Rolling Stones t-shirt? I think it is. I’ll change my hoodie.

Music You Need To Listen To, Right Now, No Seriously, I’m Not Kidding, Now

In my recent post about my trip to Philadelphia I briefly mentioned the purchase of an album. This album is called “Whatever You Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not” by Arctic Monkeys, a new band out of the UK. Paste Magazine recommends them for fans of Franz Ferdinand, Buzzcocks, and Undertones. Personally, I recommend them for the absolutely sick guitar solos, the flow of the lyrics, the lyrics themselves, and the absolutely dead sexy accent of the lead singer. (That last bit being just a perk of an amazing band.) They’ve dominated the British charts for some time now, and hopefully, the same will happen here. The two songs I’d recommend for awesome value are I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor and Fake Tales of San Francisco. Lyrically, Riot Van is the best on the album.

As a musical sidenote, the other band I’ve recently become obsessed with outside of Arctic Monkeys is The White Stripes. But everyone who actually cares about modern music has heard about them, so I needn’t detail.

College Makes You Sound Like You Know Exactly What You’re Talking About, When In Truth You Don’t Have the Faintest Idea

I like that title. It’s catchy. Golf clap.

But what I’d really like to talk about is something my professor brought up in Political Philosophy at 8 30 AM on Monday morning. Is George W. Bush a Machiavellian leader? The question comes from the idea of the fox and the lion – a leader must be cunning and capable of lying to his or her people, and at the same time a leader must be capable of showing successful signs of brute force in order to maintain the safety of the state.

Of course, the majority of the class automatically jumped to “Yes”, because George W. Bush has undeniably has shown his extreme capability for lying to the people. We discussed the scandal with phone taps – Would you have done the same thing?, our professor posed. In this instance, the President and his cabinet were able to successfully undermine the trust of the American public, something Liberals have suspected since prior to his election. So yes, in the sense of being a fox (or the people who he listens to being foxes), Bush is a Machiavellian leader.

Then comes the question of displays of strength. The general consensus in class was that there have been no successful shows of strength for the good of the state. According to Machiavelli it is better to not act, but if you must act, you must do it in a big way. Bush’s invasion of Iraq and Afghaniston did not have quite the affect on the American people as I assume he had hoped. Our success there has been limited, and when imagining a direct show of force, our invasions of other countries would not cut it.

Towards the middle of this discussion in class, something occured to me. I raised my hand. I offered that I didn’t believe it was possible to ever truly be a absolute Machiavellian leader in any form of democracy or representative form of government. Think about it – a Machiavellian leader must make all major decisions, without question. The safety and welfare of the state resides entirely in the choices he makes. The senate represents the people, and, in an ideal government, would affect the choices of a leader. Granted, Bush did go over the senate in the phone-tapping scandal, but he still must listen to the interests of his people. The people who got him elected.

So, I have decided, after thinking about this a great deal when I should have been studying for other classes, George W. Bush could never be a Machiavellian leader because the United States are a form of a democracy. The best Machiavellian leader would be a dictator, whether benevolant or cruel, but a single embodiment of the Philosopher Kings and the Saved Ones that Aristotle and Augustine have lead a state in their political ideals.

Philadelphia is not for Lovers, its for Sex Addicts

I spent this weekend at a friend’s house about an hour and a half away from campus. Friday night we decided to drive into Philadelphia and wander South Street. I sat in the car with high hopes, looking forward to yet another city to love. Because truthfully, I have met very few cities that I did not like. We parked and started our journey on South Street. It’s an interesting place, and I found a record store right off the bat and bought 2 vinyls.

But let’s talk Philly. There are a LOT of sex shops. A lot. Every few stores. My friend and I ventured into Condom Kingdom. I thought I’d seen it all on a college campus, I really did, but man was I wrong. Bondage tape! Bondage tape? I’d go more into Condom Kingdom, but it might forever destroy your images of me.

There’s also a gum tree. Ladies and gentlemen, the gum tree:
It’s actually a pretty cute idea, disgusting and unsanitary, but cute. A pretentious attempt at being artsy in a very unartsy city. Maybe that’s why I dislike the city so much – there’s very little art. Outside of the grafitti. Which is actually impressive. But it also caters to a different type of person. For example, my friend and I noticed that the mannequins in Philadelphia have an entirely different body shape than the mannequins in New York City. The stores in New York City have thin lean tall mannequins upon which they hang clothings. In Philadelphia, the mannequins have, for lack of a better word, GIGANTIC asses. Which we supposed meant that the average person in Philly has a different body type than the average person in NYC.

Also, it’s dirty. In Pennsylvania, it’s legal to smoke inside buildings, as well as outside of them. Cigarette smoke literally just rises from the smoke in a wierd clone of mist.

But Philadelphia does score some major points with me – I walked off of South Street with 3 vinyls and a CD that isn’t supposed to be available in the United States until next week. Score.