Jōnetsu

POPE'S DOPE

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 23 Jul 2015 19:29:00 +0000

HERE ARE SOME REASONS WHY THE POPE IS PRETTY DOPE, AND I WOULD NOT BE OPPOSED TO TAKING ON THE POSITION AT SOME POINT IN MY LIFE.

-You get to boss a lot of people around. The power is enticing, obviously. (Shit is coveting power sinful?)

-Your shoes can be super sparkly and people won’t bat an eye.

-Really cool hats. Like Pharrel circa 2013 has nothing on you.

-Your vehicle has your name built into it: Popemobile. Even if I called my car the Alexandramobile, people still wouldn't be inclined to let me lead a billion people in the pursuit of eternal life.

-Smoke signals are a legitimate form of communication used by the Vatican. Mad respect.

-You stand in front of large gatherings of people, tell them stuff in a dead language, and they still nod and think, "Yeah, okay cool. I like this guy's message."

-The job comes with furnished housing, which is pretty nice.

But let's be real. I wanna be the pope so I can wear this and people will be like @Pope You have very nice taste and I will be like Thank u my child, @god has #blessed me with sweg.

Pagan Ritual Mistaken for Environmentalist Protest

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Mon, 20 Jul 2015 19:55:00 +0000

July 20, 2015

BERKELEY, CA—Authorities were notified this morning that a grove of eucalyptus trees on the UC Berkeley campus had been occupied by a group of naked Bay Area residents. Police arrived on the scene expecting to find members of the Tree Spirit Project, the same group that had protested naked there last Saturday in an attempt to draw attention to plans to remove large swaths of trees in the East Bay area as a wild fire prevention measure. Upon arrival, however, police were surprised to hear rhythmic chanting issuing from a ring of protestors. Says police Lieutenant Chris Keeley, “At first, I thought they were just chanting protest slogans.” After realizing that the group wasn’t speaking English, he says he decided to do more investigating. “That’s when I noticed the old lady was levitating.” The ‘old lady’ in question was Donna Wallock, head priestess at the gathering, who claims she accomplished her anti-gravitational feat using advanced yoga and meditation techniques. Like the protestors from the Tree Spirit Project group, Wallock and her followers also wished to raise awareness about the funds FEMA plans to allocate to tree removal. Ms. Wallock clarified, however, that while the Tree Spirit Project, “addressed the problem with a peaceful naked protest, I have been guided by the spirit of the Mother Earth to take up the fight from a different angle. If our call is answered, the Berkeley city council and the FEMA directors will face a nasty rash in the shape of the Vegan Society logo and indigestion for the next two moons.” Ms. Wallock, who has been a resident of the Berkeley Hills for over 25 years, is a respected witch in the local Wiccan communities, an experienced communicator with the goddess Mother Earth, and an active volunteer at the Berkeley Public Library. Her husband, Eli Wallock, is a Professor Emeritus in the College of Chemistry at UC Berkeley.

Here to Help

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 16 Jul 2015 23:14:00 +0000

Hey, there! It’s me, your favorite Microsoft product. C’mon, don’t look at me like that! With this twisty aluminum body and bulging eyes, who could forget me? And who could forget that wild night we spent on May 13^th, 2004. That was crazy! Remember when you tried to close your document without saving? Remember when I auto saved it for you at 9:43:12 PM, and an again at 9:43:48 PM after you realized you had forgotten to include your name and the date? Remember when I offered to help you write that letter and you told me to never offer you help again? Well, I remember. I have good news and bad news. The good news? Someone screwed up on Windows 10 and I’m here to help you again! The bad news? You’re still a terrible writer and your third grade teacher was right, your trouble playing with others has led to a lonely adulthood. Luckily I’m here to offer you moral support along with the constant nagging you never knew due to your mother’s absence during your childhood. Welcome to the new age of technology. Here are some things I’m now equipped to help you with.

Your letter. (Old habits die hard.)
Your covenant with the devil.
Your other covenant with E. L. James.
Your 50 Shades fanfic.
Your shitty personality.
Your divorce settlement.
Your salty emails to your salty ex.
Your vision of a future without me.
Your opinions of paper clips, animated or otherwise.
Your grammar. (“Your an asswipe Clippy” is clearly wrong. I believe you meant “You’re an asswipe, Clippy.”)

FREAKY FIESTA

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 14 Jul 2015 23:13:00 +0000

All hail Taco Tuesday, my favorite designated day of the week that celebrates good tortillas and good fun. Today I took Jean out of my pocket, and after dusting some scone crumbs off of her it was time to partake in the Freaky Fiesta I had planned for us. For our first freaky activity, I suggested to Jean that she eat a large container of margarita salt. Because she is a cat and she is made of plastic, she had no choice but to agree to my ingenious plan. While Jean was busy becoming perilously dehydrated, I took a moment to set up the piñata. When that was ready, I told Jean that she had permission to stop eating the margarita salt, but she had already finished the whole thing! She is such a fiend. Then I told her it was time to help bat at the piñata. I explained since I was the only one with opposable thumbs and a body not made of plastic, I would take her turns too. To this Jean made no reply, probably because she is an inanimate object but also maybe because she was catatonic from high sodium intake. Either way, I swung at that piñata like nobody’s business until all of the dry pinto beans I had stuffed it with came pouring out. They hit me all over my head and shoulders and arms and that’s when I realized that pinto beans are actually very hard when they are uncooked! This was a great discovery and now I have even more reason to celebrate Taco Tuesday since it is now the day I made it hail dry beans from a smashed cardboard container. Freaky!

Love at First Swipe

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sun, 12 Jul 2015 22:17:00 +0000

To the guy I was talking to on Tinder last night:

It was great to meet you today! Somehow the initial meeting of two people who have never met before is the most awkward and terrifying thing to me. Good thing we got that out of the way when I ran into you while shopping for specialty jam with my entire family in tow! Our conversation was great, and I opened up a lot more than I would have guessed I could with someone who I don’t know at all. You asked me (and my dad) “What are your plans for today?” and I responded, “This is it. This is our big outing for the day.” And I wasn’t even making that up so you would like me. I know it’s a turn on when a girl spends her free time wandering around malls with her family, and that’s really the most exciting thing I’ve got going on any weekend. In fact, as I write this, and probably as you read it in a couple of hours, I am sitting in bed eating chocolate and thinking about whether my new shoes might be available in a half size smaller. I’m just a normal girl doing normal things. Speaking of normal things, running into you at your place of work just 12 hours after you told me you worked that was a total coincidence, I swear. I mean I couldn’t have planned it better myself if I had tried, but I didn’t plan it at all, which is basically a giant flashing sign from the universe saying “MEANT TO BE.”

And now that you ask, I guess I’ll just have to be upfront with it: I don’t have anything going on after six tonight. I’m not 21 yet, but maybe we could grab a drink? Like boba or some fresh-blended grass juice? You could pick me up and say hi to my dad again, or you could skip saying hi to my dad, but either way, do you think you could pick me up? I don’t drive. Oh, and my curfew is at 11.

Can’t wait to see you!

It Ain't So Bad Being Amish

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sat, 11 Jul 2015 01:36:00 +0000

How can you raise the roof if you’ve never raised a barn? This is what I ask people when they ask me if it’s boring to be Amish. Of course it’s not boring. Have you ever spent an entire day trying to stay in God’s good books? Well maybe you should try it sometime. If you don’t, you’re probably going to hell, where you’ll spend eternity writhing in flames while little dudes with horns and ridiculous sunburns watch you and laugh. That is some next level shit. So to escape the eternal hellfire, I’ve turned to the ways of the Old Dutch Anabaptists. And let me just tell you, it ain’t so bad being Amish.

First off, let’s get this one thing straight. We were way ahead of the curve on the organic and farm-to-table movements. Same goes for beards, and the entire hand-crafted-everything movement. Basically, we were Williamsburg when Williamsburg was still a bunch of farmers living in New Netherland. So when your mister tells you that he’s into rustic hand-hewn furniture, ask him if he also drives a buggy and reads scriptures by candle light in the house he built with his own two hands. If he answers yes to all of these, there’s a good chance he’s Amish and a great chance he’s a keeper.

Some people ask me if it was tough to give up Forever 21 and jeans for pinafores and aprons. To that I say no. At least now that I’m covered from mid-neck to ankle, I won’t have to worry about skin cancer. Plus, I was always big fan of bonnets. And true, it’s been a long while since I’ve spritzed myself with Victoria’s Secret Pure Seduction Body Mist, but on the up side, I’ve always loved the stench of livestock and body odor smells awesome to me now, like those artisanal musky perfumes that mostly just smell like an old man’s skin flaps.

To say that the Amish are behind the times and don’t know what’s going on is just untrue. I get all my news in a timely manner from Hiwwe wie Driwwe. And if you think it’s got an unpronounceable title, that’s because it’s in Pennsylvanian German, you uncultured swine. Now please tell me how I’m supposed to say Reddit or Imgur without sounding like an idiot bullfrog. It is true that the word of God has commanded us to shun modern technology, but that’s fine. No TV means no chance of Bachelorette spoilers. The only story we care about ends with a dude being crucified and then coming back to life, and someone spilled the beans on that two-part season finale when togas were still cool. Besides, we’ve managed to capitalize on the tawdry circus that is reality TV just as much as the next group of social outcasts. I mean, just because God told us to live the simple life doesn’t mean we have to bow out on a chance to capitalize on the general American population’s insatiable thirst for exploitative drivel.

So would I call myself Amish? You betcha. I’d even go as far as to say Am-100%.

This is Jean

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 30 Jun 2015 22:13:00 +0000

MEET JEAN. Jean is a cat. Jean is my only friend. Jean always listens to me and she is made of plastic so she never coughs up hairballs. She also doesn’t need a litter box or food or water or anything really except for my unconditional love because, as I just mentioned, she is made of plastic. She’s made of a material that was probably engineered by a group of men wearing collared shirts with t-shirt sleeves and her plastic was probably intended for something really important like ball point pens or those training toilets they make for little kids. My mom told me not to put Jean in my mouth because Jean is made of plastic and all plastics are toxic. Also my mom said it is not nice to use your only friend as a chew toy. I named Jean myself. I could have called her Twinkie, because of the unnatural yellow-orange color she was spray painted at the factory, or Butt Face because her mouth looks like an anus, but I went with Jean instead. Jean is pronounced like the thing that Levi Strauss invented during the gold rush, not like a fancy French man. I named her Jean because it is normal to name your plastic cat after a type of clothing. I am looking forward to many fun adventures with Jean. Most people will think I’m by myself, but surprise! I am with my best friend, except my best friend is at the bottom of my purse hanging out with my spare change and gum wrappers right now. That’s some efficient transportation if you ask me.

(just because my mom said not to doesn't mean I won't)

WIMB

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sat, 27 Jun 2015 23:45:00 +0000

Did anyone ever tell you that the eyes are windows to the soul? Well they were right…with one caveat: though it’s true that the window to a man’s soul is found somewhere amid all the muscle tissue and optical nerves, the window to a woman’s soul is actually located in her handbag, which often contains telling tokens of her housekeeping and beauty regimens.

My go-to bag right now is a woven tote that I found at a church thrift sale, and it's adorned with an indigenous woman surrounded by palm trees on the front. I really enjoy this imagery because it reminds me of the colonialism that made my beachy vacay possible. Nothing says “summer” to me quite like systematized oppression! I also really like this bag because it has a small zip pocket sewn into the interior. It’s really helpful for keeping little items in place! Usually, I toss my keys, and spare change in when I’m on the go. I also always keep a list of my allergies for emergencies (#haters, penicillin) and a moist towlette that I found in an airport bathroom in 2007 because I’m a huge freak about keeping things neat and tidy!

This tote is great for days on the beach or out and about around town because it is surprisingly spacious inside. Since I have an unhealthy preoccupation with apocalypse legends of yore, it’s super important to me to always leave the house prepared. For a night out with friends, I’ll always bring along my little first aid kit stocked with band aids (so handy when someone gets a blister!), as well as a rock the size of a small child’s head to hurl at potential attackers. My phone battery has been draining more and more quickly these days, so I make sure I've always got my phone charger and wall adapter, along with every other electronic cord I’ve acquired in the last ten years. Better safe than sorry!

I tend to get a bit peevish if I’m hungry so I make sure to keep a healthy snack with me on the go. Some people like granola bars or trail mix as a good source of protein, but I prefer barbecued turkey legs. There is something about ripping meat off a bone in public that curbs my hunger jitters in a way that rolled oats and chocolate chips just can’t compete with.

I’m cursed with feeling perpetually dehydrated, and to combat this I’m pretty vigilant about carrying water (in a reusable, eco-friendly, anti-global-warming, anti-conspiracy, anti-hole-in-the-ozone bottle) and lip balm with me everywhere. I have loved the EOS brand lip balms since I first saw them a couple years ago, and I came to love them even more once I realized that if you purse your lips while applying the balm, eventually your cute little egg turns into a little white nipple that soothes chapped lips. Anyway, I told my aunt how much I liked the EOS brand and she generously offered to make a lip balm for me herself! (My aunt is super hands-on.) Though it turned out her version is just a vaguely spherical glob of petroleum jelly wrapped up in Saran-Wrap, I love it so much because it is such a creative way to combat the power of capitalist marketing in convincing young girls like me that the best way to apply lip balm is using something that resembles a cheap white-chocolate truffle.

Like I mentioned before, this bag has tons of room, so some stuff tends to sink to the bottom where it is promptly forgotten by yours truly. This stuff is usually just little odds and ends like old gum or a button I never sewed back on my pants; I’ve since stopped wearing pants. Oh, and my pet gerbil. Sorry about that, Simon.

Life lesson

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 25 Jun 2015 20:28:00 +0000

improv4charity crew muggin'

Hey, hi, hello again. If you don't recognize me, don't worry. I'm not offended. It's been a while. Did you do something new with your hair? It looks nice. I’m sitting here typing like God dammit Alexandra be funny!! (and we can all see how well that’s working). I guess I could jump right back into posting the normal junk with no explanation for the hiatus, and people wouldn’t really care one way or the other, and that’s all fine but I think that there needs to be at least a little bit of explanation, if only for the selfish reason that it means I can put off posting something that requires more work. Also don’t you care at least a little bit what I’ve been up to? Sure, you do. I mean I know you’ve been dutifully keeping tabs with me on my pretty website, but that’s where I get to post photos with nice filters and this is where I get to let loose. So buckle up.

So this blog fell to radio silence on October 23^rd, a day like any other. And why did it fall to radio silence, you ask? A number of reasons including acute procrastination, loss of interest, loss of inspiration, loss of dignity, etc. Do I regret it? Truthfully, I do not. I’m really talented at creating multiple unnecessary side projects for myself which are inadvisable to continue during school, and this blog is unquestionably one of them. Now that school is out, though, I’m sort of trying to get it back up and running again but who knows what will happen??? Children, this is a lesson that nothing, not even a scheduled post to the internet, is predictable.

So where did I go in the interim, you ask? Was I pushed by an unfathomably powerful force into a vortex? Well if the force is schoolwork and the vortex is Berkeley, then yes, that is exactly what happened. (Also, Berkeley is the nicest vortex I’ve ever encountered, though stress levels run uncommonly high.) Since taking the plunge into said vortex, some cool stuff has happened. My hair changed color twice, and as a result I accidentally dyed my entire body green and then pink. (Martian invader or extremely sunburnt, you can take your pick!) I tried my hand at a comedy magazine. Then on a whim one Sunday evening, I decided I would audition for an improv team for a better fit, and by some random stroke of luck I made the team. Auditioning for improv4charity was one of the best decisions I made all year because now, I can be a contributing member of society by getting up on stage and making a fool of myself. I think this is the first time I’ve done something charitable since I donated cans to a food drive in fourth grade when I was bribed by my superiors with the promise of pizza. Now to get me to do charity work you can bribe me with much more adult things like the promise of companionship or, at the very least, access to free alcohol.

Of course, college is not just about debauchery. It is about debauchery and learning. My studies did occupy me, including the time I decided it would be easier to get up at 4 am to watch a lunar eclipse than it would be to try and count the number of visible stars in a patch of sky the size of a quarter, the time my building’s trash shoot caught fire and I was evacuated until 2:30 am the night before a midterm, and of course the time I tried and nearly succeeded to write a 12 page term paper the day it was due (I ended up with 10.5 pages). College has taught me that I can be stupid to a point, and knowing this is pretty darn comforting after spending the entirety of my life previous to college being responsible to a fault.

What’s my point here? Stay in school, don’t do drugs if you don’t want to, tie your shoe laces, laugh a lot, and don’t expect too much from anyone. We’re all human, we all screw up; the bumps keep us engaged.

Spy Adult

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 21 Oct 2014 16:10:00 +0000

First grade was the year of butterfly shirts, a perpetually messy desk, and pipe dreams of being a Spy Kid. When I watched Spy Kids, as an impressionable six-year-old, I thought I had found my calling. I was wooed by the fast-paced lifestyle; I was enthralled by the karate, the gadgets, and the fact that Carmen's hair was constantly blowing in a mysterious and cinematically pleasing breeze. I spent countless hours playing spy with my friends, making up missions to complete and finding hidden clues in the ivy that grew on the chain-link fence. At home, I would bare my teeth in the mirror and practice punching and kicking towards my reflection. As the years passed and the rosy glow of elementary school dimmed, I realized that I should look elsewhere for a career. College, though, is all about exploring your options. So, while I explore the option of being an English major and making absolutely no money in the future, I feel like I might as well entertain the option of being a super spy once again. After all, I'm highly qualified.

Diplomacy is an essential spy skill. You have to pretend to like people even if you think they are really annoying. I already have a lot of practice with this skill in real life. I've dealt with so many obnoxious people that by now, I'm an expert.

Ingenuity comes in handy when you need to make up an excuse on the spot for why you were reading someone else's files with a flashlight at 2:03 am. I am a highly skilled excuse-maker in my current position as a student, because I regularly come up with elaborate stories to tell myself and others about why I'm looking at Tumblr instead of doing my homework.

My diverse interests will allow me to act like an elite member of society with some and like a not-so-elite member of society with others. I have an intimate knowledge of the High Renaissance in Italy (lookin' at you, Leonardo), as well as a very committed relationship with America's Next Top Model.

As a Master of Disguise, I am capable of blending in with my surroundings. If you enjoyed the picture of a worm above, then you will probably be flabbergasted and impressed to learn that that worm is me. My identity has been revealed.

After writing this all down, I've come to realize that I really am a perfect candidate for clandestine operations. CIA, NASA, FBI, Obama: hit me up. I promise, my lips are sealed!

Midterms

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 15:59:00 +0000

Hiding from homework doesn't actually make it go away but I recommend it anyway. Did you know homework can't find you if you hide in your bed and pull up the covers all the way? Thought I should let you know.

Most high schoolers enter college woefully uninformed about some key things: getting enough sleep, doing laundry, and, most importantly, taking midterms. Future freshmen, allow me to make something abundantly clear for you now, so that you won't have to go through the psychological trauma of discovering it later: the college midterm season is not a hellish week, or even two weeks, of stress and sleeplessness. No, midterm season is an academic behemoth that drags on from the last week of September through mid-November. I want you to imagine a common garden slug, slimy and shell-less and pathetic. Now, enlarge that slug in your head until it's the size of a German Shepard. That monstrosity of a slug is midterms, and it's about to slime all over your little collegiate existence. You're welcome.

To cope with the stress and emotional upheaval of midterm season, many students turn to ice cream, binge watching Netflix, and good ol' denial. The list below includes some of the many lies we tell ourselves during this time of year.

1. "When midterms are over, I'll finally be able to relax!"
False: When midterms are over, you'll finally be studying for finals.
2. "I took the AP in high school, so I'm good."
False: Contrary to what the College Board would like you to believe, APs are still high school classes.
3. "This midterm is just a test with an inflated ego. I don't need to study that hard."
False: Study.
4. "I'm going to fail this midterm and I'm going to fail this class."
False: Even though you majorly messed up on this midterm (two standard deviations away from the average? Really??), there's still another midterm and a final left. You'll probably be able to salvage your grade.
5. "I did not cry in the fetal position afterwards."
False: We've all done it.
6. "The curve will save me."
False: Probably not.
7. "I studied enough."
False: Okay this is just a blatant lie and you know it. Watching American Horror Story is not constructive when you're preparing for an Anthro midterm.
8. "The ritual sacrifice I performed three days ago will save my grade."
False: You really are desperate.
9. "That midterm was horrible. My life is over."
False: Your life isn't over, but this list is.

How to College

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 14 Oct 2014 04:05:00 +0000

I met every single one of these people during Welcome Week and I still eat breakfast alone. (Shout out to Trader Joe's for the awesome Apple Cinnamon Oatmeal).

Welcome to college. You're moved in, you've started classes, and you think you have some friends (I mean, you eat dinner with them and that's all that matters). If there's one thing you've done five hundred times, it's have the typical "Introductory Conversation." This involves being grilled by some incoming freshman who is probably feeling just as lost as your are, but who is trying to cover it up by shoving their intellectual diversity down your throat. If I had a dollar for every conversation that came to "So, what's your major?" within the first minute and a half, I could buy Chancellor Dirk's mansion. College is a place where people are always asking you what you do. It's like everyone is following these steps for conversation from the Basic College Handbook.

Step 1: Say your name.

Step 2: Ask for the other person's name. Promptly forget it.

Step 3: Ask them what they're majoring in.

Step 4: Nod numbly and act like you care.

Step 5: Scramble and question your life choices as you attempt to tell them what you plan to do with your sorry existence.

Step 6: Bury your humiliation by reminding yourself that they're tuning out the sound of your voice anyway.

Step 7: Try desperately to seem interesting.

Step 8: Fail.

Step 9: Rinse, repeat.

Step 10: Give up and go get ice cream.

If you can follow these steps, I can almost guarantee that you'll find someone to eat with on the first night. If you'd don't follow the steps, chances are you'll have some awkward conversations, but you might actually make friends, not just acquaintances.

Llama luv

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 09 Oct 2014 08:03:00 +0000

Found llamas on the corner today after class. What can I say? I go to Berkeley.

Llamas actually make better friends than humans do. Here are some reasons why.

1) Llamas are the perfect cuddle buddies. They're soft, gentle, and you are unlikely to develop feelings for them. If you do develop feelings for your llama friend, you should probably seek the help of a trained professional, because that's a situation too messed up to let you friends deal with.
2) If you need to practice braiding someone's hair and your friends can't sit still (or you just don't have friends), a llama would probably let you braid its fur. Probably.
3) Llamas are vegetarian, so you don't have to be.
4) If you're late to class, your llama might give you a ride. Do you have a human friend that would give you a piggy-back ride cross-campus? Didn't think so.
5) Llamas are the ultimate statement accessory. Everyone will be dying to know why you thought it was a good idea to tie the llama's harness around your waist.
6) Llamas make the best wingmen: fluffy, cute, and they won't flirt with your person of interest.
7) Llamas won't throw off your girl-guy ratio.
8) Llamas are #organic.
9) If you're playing hide and seek with some of your human friends, you could hide in your llama's fur and not be found for days.

I'm sure there are other reasons but I'm pretty tired and can't think of them right now so if you befriend a llama please let me know what I missed.

10) Everyone will be wondering why the hell you brought a llama to a party.

Summer Book Binge

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 16:18:00 +0000

Hey, hello! It's Alexandra, returned from the void. Sorry for the prolonged absence. I've been busy doing a whole lot of nothing. You know, just the summertime usual. I haven't exactly been doing nothing, though. I've landed an internship working at the UCI art galleries (how swank), and I've been careening up and down the 5 alongside 18-wheelers on my way to and from orientation at Cal. Yay!

frands i made.
(pc to Marina, frand on the left)

Summertime, in the beginning, always feels like a rolling hill full of beautiful spring flowers and butterflies and maybe even a unicorn, where deer ticks carrying the viral pathogen for Lyme disease are nowhere to be found. You sit in awe, loathe to disturb the peace. Days slip by, then weeks, as you neglect your plans ("This summer, I'm going to hang out with friends all the time!" "I'm going to write a novella!" "I'm going to finish last summer's novella!", etc). Then suddenly, four weeks into sitting and doing absolutely nothing, you realize that a crew of earth movers has showed up at the base of your hill and is planning on leveling the hill off for a new neighborhood of cookie-cutter suburban homes! No! There goes your paradise.

My family's summer tradition is to go to the library and pick up a huge load of books. I usually round up at least enough books for me to a) make myself feel really intelligent and to validate my self worth, and to b) make me feel really inadequate when I've managed to finish less than half of the novels when they all come due. Part of the difficulty in finishing everything I've taken out is that I usually check out 89% classics, and then I sneaks in some fun, juicy reads just to keep things interesting. Once I start in on the fun, though, it's really difficult to force yourself back to Camus. For example, yesterday, I read one and a half Sophie Kinsella novels in about four hours, but today I stated a novel by Toni Morrison and a novel by Maxine Hong-Kingston. So I'm not that terrible, right?

A slight downside to the huge library load right at the start of summer is that, for me, reading is such a compulsive and all-consuming task that I spend more days than I'd like to admit wondering if I've ever gotten up to brush my teeth. Gross, I know, but by the end of the book-binge, I generally feel as if I've lost all knack for social interaction, which is a great way to start off college, don't you think? Any way, I've spent too much writing this up--I've got 20 books left and only 40 days left until move in. Wish me luck!

Train Travel

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Mon, 30 Jun 2014 23:53:00 +0000

This past weekend, my family and I made the trek up to the Bay Area to celebrate my great aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary. Instead of driving or flying, my parents decided that we would take the train up to Santa Clara. This means that I spent twelve hours each way sitting on the train watching a lot of countryside pass by, which was fantastic because California is gorgeous. Travelling on the train, though, also means contending with the other people travelling on the train. When you're taking the train for a longer trip, you usually come across a rather odd mix of people. There was, for example, one woman who asked my sister to save a seat, and then left socks to make sure the seat would not be taken. There was a couple, seated directly in front of me, that chose to completely disregard all social qualms regard PDA. There was a woman who was on the phone probably 80% of the time, and who somehow managed to speak on the phone while it rang simultaneously.

Now I don't know if you've noticed this, but trains and planes often have huge, thrumming climate control systems that keep the space at an even 72 during the duration of your travel. These systems also serve the very noble purpose of dampening the sounds and conversations of the people around you. Unfortunately, the AC on the particular train that I was on yesterday kept shutting off at random intervals, meaning the gross smacking sounds from the couple in front of me (they're really into each other) and the woman's constant phone conversations from two seats up ("Was the zucchini big enough?") were all too audible.

With the loss of the white noise that had been muffling god knows what, I realized that we're often lulled into a false sense of security, leading us to act in public as we would in private. Let this serve as a reminder that trains, planes, buses, and other forms of public transport are, in fact , public (I know, shocking). So, before you decide to call up your podiatrist and detail the problem with your big toe or watch the latest episode of South Park without headphones, remember: you're not at home, you're sitting in a metal tube that's hurdling through space.

Sayonara, High School

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sat, 28 Jun 2014 18:36:00 +0000

The end of high school has begun to finally sink in, bit by unsettling bit. When I saw a woman eating Cup Noodles, I realized I would never buy a cup of that neon yellow MSG-ridden water again at snack from the student store (actually, that's probably a good thing). Yesterday, I remembered that I had never hugged my favorite teacher goodbye and I realized that I would never again walk into her classroom and spend hours making art. When my best friend described his future roommates to me, I realized that we're all about to leave, and though we'll come back for a few months at a time, things won't ever be the same.

In real life, relationships usually fizzle out and dissipate into oblivion, but with the end of high school, close relationships with friends and teachers are severed suddenly, because unlike in college, hanging out with your teachers outside of school is... weird.

Another strange thing about graduating is the realization that relationships you could have had, friendships that could have grown deeper, are suddenly cut short, destined by ill fate and the conventions of our educational system to peter out in their infancies.

Even though the sudden change is disconcerting and uncomfortable at times, I'm trying not to loose sight of all of the amazing people I'll meet this fall at Cal and the opportunities for growth that lie ahead for me and my friends. I think we leave the pimple-ridden pre-pubescent annals of middle school assuming that that period of social awkwardness is over. College, though is just another time for rapid, probably awkward change.

So, though leaving my friends and my school and my teachers is uncomfortable and disconcerting, I'm looking forward to college as a delightfully awkward, probably hormonal period of growth and discovery.

GO BEARS!

Hire Me!

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 00:11:00 +0000

With my bundles of cash, I plan to buy this bronze boy, because if you can't find a real-live bronzed and toned boy, I say use the dinero to buy a boy made of bronze instead.

I'm really lucky. I haven't had to work all throughout high school, because my parents give me a small (okay, tiny) monthly allowance.

As you probably know, I just turned 18, so I've decided to get a job. Instead of getting a job at Stonefire or Jamba Juice, I've decided to go for something more chic: Nordstrom. I really think I'm a great candidate for a job at a place like Nordstrom. I'm stylish, articulate, and I will tell you if look like crap. I will help save you money by talking customers out of making their purchase because Really? You need another pair of dark wash skinny jeans? I'm also very focused and goal oriented. I plan to quit this damn job as soon as I have enough money to buy a ticket to France. But don't worry, I'm completely committed to Nordstrom in the long term. As soon as I run out of cash, I'll be back and my schedule will be totally open, so I can work overtime! I just can't wait to become part of a community; a community that gets you great discounts on really nice clothes.

Responsibility!!!

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sat, 21 Jun 2014 02:31:00 +0000

When people started singing to me this morning, I curled up like a disgruntled cat and made this face, as captured by the wonderful Sarah Sukardi. (She's also a fan of this here blob and she really likes the name Jonetsu Fervor. Shout-out to you, Sarah. Also she helps me in Comp Sci all the time. Okay, shout-out over.)

Welcome to adulthood, Alexandra. Well, thanks!

As I mentioned earlier this week, today is my birthday. I am the ripe legal age of 18. It has been a wonderful, beautiful day and I have all of the truly wonderful people in my life to thank for that. Y'all are really special.

Being 18 now is a little scary. All day, I've had this fear that I, the model citizen that I am, will be pulled over for some stupid offense and be held fully accountable for it because, in the eyes of the law, I am now an adult... dun dun dun....

People now expect me to be somewhat competent in the real world and to understand the way bureaucracy works. I am not prepared for this. The DMV is a scary place, as is the line at Chipotle.

Adulthood is a process, so here's to making a few jarring mistakes in the near future! Yay!

I'm Fine

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 22:32:00 +0000

Most of the time, if you ask me how I am and I say "I'm fine," it's a total lie. Not only am I not fine, I'm probably secretly wishing you would notice that I'm really not fine and try to make me feel better. I'm not sure if not telling people how I'm actually doing is a defensive maneuver/girl thing, or if it's just something I do because I hate to sound weak/annoying/emotional (and all of those three things sort of go together in my head, which I realize is not great).

Sometimes, I'll say that I'm cold or that something is heavy, but as soon as someone offers their coat to me or offers to take something off of my hands, I immediately pop back with "I'm fine!" It's as if I'm going to win an award for being independent if I refuse help from other people, which is really stupid. Not only will no one care whether or not I take the coat or give something to someone to hold, if I ask for help and then refuse it, I'm still stuck doing whatever it was that I spoke up about in the first place.

I also feel particularly uncomfortable volunteering good things about myself in conversation without a proper segue. For example, my birthday is on Friday, and instead of just telling people that my birthday's coming up, I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to sound self centered or selfish. I want cupcakes, dammit, and I should be allowed to ask for some!

The same thing happens when something good happens to me, like when I'm recognized for doing something well. Instead of telling people straight off, I wait so as not to potentially injure someone else's feelings. Then when someone else tells me they've been recognized for the same thing or when they've won the same award, I say "Oh, me, too!" And then I kick myself repeatedly for holding my tongue, because I realize that other people think it's okay to share good news, so I should be able to do so, too. I'm too goddamn empathetic, and I'm pretty sure that gets me into trouble sometimes.

I guess the point of this is to say that even though I usually seem pretty even keel all of the time, happy and unstressed, I struggle a lot with putting myself out there and speaking up for what I want. Sometimes it's hard to understand what other people are going through, but understanding and being sympathetic is really important. Life would be awful if we were solitary; the friends and family that surround us on a daily basis are our strongest supporters, and it is important to be open with them about our wants and needs.

Creeps

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Thu, 12 Jun 2014 18:46:00 +0000

Happy Friday! Oh shit, it's Thursday and I've made that mistake at least five times already today. You know what else is almost as disgruntling as remembering it's not Friday? It's that really awkward moment when some random creepy guy approaches you and the only thing you can think of is how to get out of the conversation. I hate it. Why can 't I just curl up and have the random guys who hit on me leave me alone? I'm putting my foot down! I've compile a fool-proof list of ways to keep the creeps away.

Talk to yourself at full voice. Nobody wants to hit on crazy.
Cover yourself from the chin down. Guys only notice girls when their skin’s showing.
Show off your personal style by dressing like a bag lady!
Pretend you’re deaf.
Pretend you’re blind.
Pretend you’re Helen Keller .
Show off your personalities. All of them. At once.
Keep your face in a permanent, horrifying snarl.
Pretend to be catholic.
Actually be catholic.
Become a nun .
Become a man.
Loudly discuss your plans to move to Rwanda.
Develop a twitch.
Apply abstract expressionist makeup, à la Jackson Pollock.
Avoid all social contact by pursuing an online degree in lunar engineering.
Bring up your third arm in conversation as much as possible.
When he asks for your name, list the names of your 33 cats instead, because they define you more than your name.
Expound loudly on the benefit of vasectomies.

Special thanks to the beautiful, magnanimous, awe-inspiring McKenna Fitzgerald for providing the spark for this post. You rock!

Do re (it's all about) mi

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Wed, 11 Jun 2014 19:10:00 +0000

Here's your joke for the day: choir concerts are so fun! Did you laugh? Oops turns out I'm a choir kid, so technically I'm not really allowed to make that joke.

But I feel like there are really only five types of people who join choir, and the rest of the school's population does something normal like band or orchestra. Choir just attracts crazy.

If you've never been to choir, here are a few of the ridiculous kids you are bound to encounter:

The musical theater nut always knows the lyrics to every single song in all 14 of their all-time favorite musicals and won't let you tell them they're wrong. Even though they are. You'd better get out of the way if there's a mirror around because chances are they're already there and have put on 7 layers of stage makeup. Who doesn't want to look like Joan Rivers?!

The girls with perfect pitch will turn around and pull a face when you're flat, which is almost always. Wait, is she pulling a face or does she just look like that?

The guy who walks around school playing an acoustic guitar and who annoys everyone. He has the entire KROQ music library memorized and will harmonize with you to make your warbling sound kind of cool and grunge-soulful instead of just really pitchy.

The kids who just immigrated here don't speak English. Why are they in choir, then? Because their counselor said so or because they got lost and this is where they ended up. Either way, when they open their mouths, noise comes out. You could say they're guaranteed to be on American Idol.

The sopranos sing (screech) the melody, meaning we are the most important part of the choir. We also read the top line of music, further proof that no other section really matters. We have the biggest egos, the highest notes, and the most obnoxious personalities.

Get Your Life Together

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Tue, 10 Jun 2014 17:38:00 +0000

Hello friends. Today is the kind of day when I try to forget that I have lots of homework that I'm supposed to do instead of eating lunch. Two weeks until graduation and I'm still doing this kind of crap even though these grades really don't matter. Damn my sense of responsibility! Damn my academic mind! So this is all you're getting today because I'm just surrendering to life and my homework at the moment.

In the meantime, please enjoy some fun photos of the awards ceremony last night. I managed to somehow win six awards in legitimate categories. Here are two really fun photos for you to enjoy! And by fun I mean so blurry you can't tell if those are people or chicken nuggets. Real post tomorrow, I promise.

Very so excite.

Bootiful as always.

CONGRATS

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Mon, 09 Jun 2014 23:15:00 +0000

Awards are a pretty big deal. Tonight are the Senior Awards and I was invited which I guess is kind of a big deal. It's always total surprise to me when I receive my award, because it's usually for something I didn't even consider being recognized in. Usually I try to guess and I guess wrong. This year though, I'm pretty sure my award will be one of the following.

Mediocrity in the Face of Senioritis

This award is granted to seniors who are able to maintain Bs or higher in all classes even though they don't give a crap.

Least Improved

If you are a senior and your progress has actually been regress, then you could be eligible for this award!

The You're Not Dead Award For Living Seniors

You didn't die in a drunken car wreck, from cancer, or from a heart attack when you realized you had a paper due tomorrow! Congratulations.

Best Blog

I think this one's pretty self explanatory.

Award for Outstanding Self Service

Have you helped the community? Maybe not. But have you helped yourself? Yes, you have. You helped yourself to two extra cookies yesterday when your conscience wasn't looking and you helped yourself get an internship when you put totally made-up stuff on your resume (not me, I promise). Life is all about doing what it takes, and taking what it takes, to get yourself to the finish line.

Award for Academic Honesty

You didn't cheat or copy anyone's homework once all of high school. Congratulations! But being a stickler for academic integrity also means that you were an annoying tattletale throughout freshman and sophomore years. Here's a paper with a gold border and fancy script to make up for the fact that you had no friends.

In all seriousness, though, it is an honor to have been invited to the awards and I look forward to seeing everyone tonight looking spiffy and being rewarded for all of their hard work!

My First Song!

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Mon, 09 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Just look at me. If I look the part, does it matter what my songs sound like? No.

I have found my calling. I'm sure of it. I'm abandoning my college plans and instead I'm going to pursue a career as a songwriter. Check out my very first attempt. I think it's going to be a chart topper.

Hey boy! I think you're really cute.
I'm using my female wiles to attract you.
You have a girlfriend, but that's okay.
You probably wouldn't go for me anyway.

Hey boy! Let's go grab some coffee.
You'll see me caffeinated, and then you'll really want me.
I get agitated and my skin goes kinda blotchy.
But that's no reason to say you'd be better off without me.

Why does this always happen?
The guys I like, they don't like me.
Why does this always happen?
The guys that do are so geeky.

Hey boy! I'm feeling really lonely.
You should come on over and you can be my homie.
I that know you don't like me, and it's not okay.
I overly attached and I want you to staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Why does this always happen?
The guys I like, they don't like me.
Why does this always happen?
My life's gonna be so solitary.

Hope you had a great time jammin' to that one! More to come once I sign that record deal!

Looking for a Roomate

noreply@blogger.com (-alexandra-) — Sat, 07 Jun 2014 19:08:00 +0000

(Worst roommate ever)

Academics

What's your major?
Triple major in molecular and cellular biology, neurobiology, and mechanical engineering.

How important are grades to you v. social life?
95/5.

When do you prefer to study?
Every waking moment.

Does noise bother you when you're studying?
Does nuclear fallout bother you when you're studying? Yes.

Do you have to be alone when you're studying?
On a scale of 1 to dead, how quiet will you be?

Sharing a Room/Suite

Have you ever shared a room before (most Freshmen will be sharing with at least one other student)?
I've shared a room with my shattered dreams for as long as I can remember.

Would it bother you a lot to room with someone who is gay or transgender?
Don't look at me when I'm changing.

Are you a night owl/early bird?
I am nocturnal.

Do you have good personal hygiene (shower daily, use deodorant, etc.)?
No. I believe in living with a healthy layer of dirt.

Would rooming with someone with body odor gross you out?
I room with myself and I'm not grossed out.

Do you snore or talk in your sleep?
Yes and yes. I have recited "The Jabberwocky" from memory in my sleep.

Do you walk in your sleep (in other words, am I gonna have to chain you to your bed or chase you down)?
I will supply my own chains.

Are you tidy/somewhat sloppy/a slob?
I hate being forced to conform to the confines of drawers.

Are you strongly religious/moderately religious/agnostic/athiest-humanist?
I devoutly practice Wicca.

Do you enjoy discussing religion?
Would you enjoy being hexed?

How do you feel about arranging scheduled "private time".
My private time is all the time. We can schedule time for you to talk to me during a 15 minute window.

Mind opposite-sex sleep-overs?
Yes.

If you are leaving for the week-end or spending the night somewhere else, will you let me know?
No. You are not my mother. If I die, I die.

Do you object to roommate having sex while you're in the room?
Not at all. Please do.

How often do you talk on the phone?
I don't own a phone. I don't want the government to be able to find me.

Do you have any unusual habits?
Not that I know of (but you may not like porcupines).

Do you share personal property/food freely, or do you want to be asked first every time?
You take my things, I end you.

Do you talk out problems when you're upset, or do you need to be left alone?
I don't have problems. You have problems.