Realizations are the worst.

I had a realization.

And not a life-changing one where everything in the world is all the sudden clear and I know the meaning of life and all that. Nothing deep and meaningful.

No.

Let me explain to you.

I went to The Hobbit the other night. And by "the other night", I mean I went at midnight on opening night. Not just any night...The night. Because there's no other way to do some things.

Now I'm a fan. A huge fan, so of course I had to dress up. At first I was just planning on being Bilbo, or a small hobbit of some sort. But then when I started to put more thought into it, I figured why not go all out and be the creepiest of all the creatures. Gollum.

So I went out into the world to look for the items I would need to put a beautiful costume of Gollum together:
A swimming cap, brown material for a loin cloth, skin colored shirt and pants, and yarn to make the straggle bits of hair that lay on top of that magnificent creature's head.

Then once I began to actually look for these things, I realized that with only a day to prepare a costume, I had simply waited too long to create this costume, that would have for sure gone down in the history of all costumes. Instead, I decided to still be Gollum, but a different kind of Gollum. Only then did the memory of a boy, on the track team, breaking into my dorm wearing nothing but a full, blue body suit.

*Lightbulb*

Being a fellow athlete, I called this boy up without hesitation and asked if I could borrow his body suit. He obliged and I began my trek to find the materials needed to be pre-CGI Gollum. For those of you that don't know what that is, it is Gollum, but Andy Serkis Gollum. I would recreate the motion-capturing device that is worn in the making of Gollum's scariness and quirkiness of movements and what not.

I went to the craft store and got 12 or so of those small, white styrofoam balls. I then went home and duck taped them onto the body suit. Four on each leg, four on each arm, one on each foot, and one on each shoulder. I looked like. Well I looked like an idiot. But I was proud of my creation!

Then, my fellow Hobbit seers came to pick me up. Kendra, Jenn, and Kassi walked into the room and took one look at my invention. I thought I would be praised! Instead, none of them got what I was and I became terrified that the rest of the world would look at me with the same glazed over look, in the same fashion those three had done. Judgment in their hearts and confusion in their eyes.

To be fair, literally nothing has been so unflattering on my body. This suit did not leave much to the imagination of what my body body looked like, if you know what I mean. It was snugg, but then loose in the worst of places. The crotch. It was loose. The fabric was. On my crotch. It was loose.

Loose in the sense that I didn't have anything to fill up the extra space. The space that the boy I borrowed it from could fill up. You catch my drift? You see what I'm getting at? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

So I put my tevas on, so the styrofoam on my feet didn't fall off, and we left for the movies.
My hands were covered with a type of cloth that can only be described as "body-suit" cloth. It had a scratchy sort of feel, but also silky. It was like a mixture of flannel and silk. I don't know how that works, but that's what it was.

We got ice-cream cones before the movie, from McDonald's, so it had that paper on it on the bottom part of the cone. I couldn't get it off with my hands being covered by body-coth, so I asked Jenn to. Instead of helping me, she just took pictures of my struggle and unhappiness.

But then everything changed once we arrived at the movie theater. Instantly, I felt welcomed. I felt loved. I felt...understood. For once in my life, I was with the right people. Do you want to know why? Well because I was accepted for my costume. People got what I was! No more noobs looking at me with a questioning gaze.

As we were crossing the street a fine gentleman leaned out of his car and said. "Are you gay? Because if you are, I'll marry you!"
I responded "No. But I can be!", because I was flattered and I didn't want to shut the man down. I was a little confused though, because at the same time I was thinking, I guess it wouldn't matter if I were gay, because then I'd like women, and we still wouldn't be able to date. 
But I shrugged it off and continued into the movie.
More acceptance came, and my heart swelled.

3 weeks later and I am telling my sister and mother this story.
Then Annie said something that made me have my realization.
"It was really funny! He yelled, 'Are you gay? Because if you are I'll marry you!' It was great."
"So...it was a man that said that?"
"Ya!"
"So...he wanted to know if you were gay and it was a man that said that?"
"...................oh no."

That man from the car thought...well he thought I was a man. That's why he asked if I were gay. Because he was a man, thinking that I was a man, therefore asking if I were gay so we could get married! Do you see what I'm saying?
Do you get my realization?

All I can say, to quote Eowyn from Lord of The Rings: Return of The King, "I am no man!" *stabs Sauron in face, falls back out of hand being all burnt because stabbed Sauron in face*

Ya. Just a realization.
And as Liz Lemon says, "Realizations are the worst."

Preach it gurl.

**UPDATE
Here's this gem. Not sure why my face is like that, but you get it.

It's a Christmas day!

It's a Christmas Miracle!

And by that I mean it's a Christmas day blog post!

I don't have much to say today. Not much at all. Which is weird considering that I always have something to say. About everything. Always.

So just know this.

I hope you have a Happy Christmas. I hope that wherever you are. Whoever you're with. That you're enjoying yourself, and making stories that you can tell your kids, or that you can tell your sibling's kids, or that you can tell your cats. All I'm saying, is that I hope you've made some stories.

Happy Christmas everybody! Or Happy whatever holiday you celebrate, or Happy day! Maybe you don't celebrate anything.

Just be good. Just be good people.

Oh. Shit. The continuation.

This is a part twoer people! So if you have yet to read the Part One segment, then I suggest you backtrack only a little bit and read Oh. Shit. Part One. Simply titled..."Oh. Shit". Do you want to be as confused as a T-Rex in a Vegan world, then please, read on. But if you would like to understand my story as well as the Mayans understood when the world was going to end, then go back! (huh....that analogy doesn't really work does it..?)

Recap: I almost ate shit. Instead, I peed my pants on Kristen's bed, as laughter was heard throughout a city, or something. I enjoyed my steak burrito, but after almost eating shit I had to throw it away because looking at the steak just reminded me of the fact that I almost ate shit.

Okay you should be up to speed!

By the end of the laughter, I was fed up with the night. It was 11:30 p.m. and all I wanted to do was go home, put sweat pants on, brush my teeth, eat some muddy buddies, realize that I had already brushed my teeth once, brush my teeth again, lay in my bed, and stay up till 2:30 watching Netflix. Ya know. A standard week slash weekend night.

Only the world had a different plan for me.

I said my goodbyes. Well more like I shouted, "I'm leaving this Hell hole!". And I moonwalked outta there! Really though. I was wearing these great socks that were like a nest of gratitude and unicorn hair surrounding my feet. A Christmas present from my great buddy Jamie.

Right, so I moonwalked outta there! Saying sayonara to my past, ready, with open arms, to embrace the future that lie ahead of me. Great things were on my horizon, I could tell. I started walking up the stairs in the Shimkus home envisioning all the different scenarios that could take place in my life, now that I've experienced this type of close encounter.

Maybe I could be the captain of a pirate ship! Searching for gold and doubloons in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Or maybe I was bound to be President of America! Wait wait...no. THE WORLD.

Maybe I'd write a movie that would sell for millions. Maybe I'd steal the Declaration of Independence. Maybe I'd open up a shrimp business.  Maybe I'd marry a spy, while being a spy myself, and then be told I have to kill the spy I'm married to. Maybe I'd...*SQUISH. WETNESS. WHAT'S THAT SMELL*

I popped out of my mental world and back into reality. I was walking from the top of the stairs into the kitchen to get my coat and keys when I felt this wetness on the bottom of my left foot. I didn't know what it was, seeing as the entire house was pitch black. I came to the conclusion that I had stepped in some sort of bodily extraction Roxy had left around for me, but I'd figured it was only urination.

I did the idiotic thing of placing my right hand on the bottom of my left foot and then brought the hand to my nose. I then inhaled a smell that was not pee. It was something much worse.

Oh. Shit. THE CONTINUATION. 

(also let me just comment on this fact: why in the world would I ever do this?! I mean, I already thought it was pee, so how does that make it okay in my mind to feel the bottom of my sock and smell it? I don't understand my thought process sometimes)

I struggled to find the light switch on the wall right next to me. I reached and reached, and I swear to you the wall was literally moving out of my reach. On purpose! I didn't even know it was possible. But it is. I swear to you.

I finally found the switch, flicked it upwards with all my might, and looked behind me. Sure enough, there were three things of Roxy's wet shits lining the walkway between the stairs and the kitchen. There was a small one, a medium one, and then a big one. Guess which one I stepped in...

I called Vicki up. "Come look at what your damn dog has done."
And I found the soap, for the second time, for reasons I never thought I would have needed soap for.

We inspected the pieces of poop left behind. My sock texture was indented into the biggest thing of poop. Indented! Like. You could see what the the texture of my sock was just by looking at some shit. It was horrifying. I took off my socks (my beautifully, handcrafted socks, that were probably spun by spider hands), walked out to my car barefoot, and drove home, never looking back.

I got home and instead of doing everything I had planned to do, I did a load of laundry. Then I spent the next couple minutes relaying the events of my night to my mother.

"Why mom? Why do these things keep happening to me? I honestly don't understand!"
"Well Jeannie. I think tonight was the ultimate metaphor for your life. You simply just keep stepping in the biggest pile of shit."

Right.


p.s. I told this to my friend Jenn, then she told me about the time her family got into a shit fight. Then I slowly backed up from her and ran away. I guess I'm not the strangest person out there. It's comforting really.

Oh. Shit.

I hope the vulgarity of this next post doesn't offend anyone. And by vulgarity I mean I use the word shit a lot, because in all honesty, the word "poop". or "crap" doesn't even cover what took place the other night. Now don't let your mind juices flow too far. It wasn't all that crazy bad, but it was bad enough.

The other night, I spent all night slaving away in the kitchen with my best pal Victoria Shimkus. We made no less than one million bags of muddy buddies (Fine. We made 3 bags) But three gallon-sized bags! There was lots of them. I ended up eating my own weight in those treats that I now realize come from the depths of Hell. I never wanted to look at any type of food ever again, or look at myself in the mirror because who knows how much weight I've already gained on this Christmas break of mine.

But, I prevailed on. Seeing as I hadn't had dinner that night, I figured muddy buddies were as good as any filet mignon or salmon other families were having. That was until Vicki told me what her family had. Homemade burritos. Steak, cheese, peppers, foods sent from heaven, hand delivered by the angel Gabriel himself. Salivating. I was literally salivating at her words. Not only was this beautiful dish so beautiful, but it was also plentiful. They had leftovers.

I had to take Vicki home anyways, so I figured why not take a side trip and venture into the deep, dark depths of her abode and heat myself up a burrito that was probably created by Santa's elves. I'm just saying.

So I did just that. Everything was looking great. Not only was I eating substance things, but I was eating something other than muddy buddies, which was more that I had done in quite some time.

I followed Vicki down to her room and I just kind of meandered around for awhile, looking at pictures, stepping on clothing that litered the floor, breaking mirrors, crying a little. Okay not really any of those. However, at one point I did lock her dog out of the room, I chuckled evily a little, but then my chuckle turned into a full out, hard-core, evil-mastermind laugh. "Muhahahah. Muaha. haha. ha.haha.ahaha." *gets hit over head with lamp*.

But then Vick got mad at at made me and I had to let her back in. That's where everything went bad.

Vicki began to brush her teeth. The door of her room connects to a bathroom that her and her little sister Kristen share together. So while she was brushing her teeth, I sat down on the couch that was put in her room after she moved to college, because there was no space in the living room anymore, and watchingly ate my burrito.

As I sat there, minding my own business  I looked to the ground, not knowing what I would find. Perhaps it would be a pot of gold, but perhaps not. Instead, what I found was something the same color as my steak was lying on the ground, just inches from where I was sitting.

Rationally, my train of thought was something like "oh! I seemed to have dropped some steak on the floor. My mistake, it happens, I'll just pick it up really fast"

So I took my forefinger and my thumb and reached for the piece of steak, like I was Frodo reaching for "The One Ring" for the first time. I was ready to pick up the food and place it directly into my mouth. That is until I actually picked up the thing. The thing that was the furthest from steak. It wasn't as far from food as one would think, but boy was it the farthest thing from what I wanted to place in my mouth and ruin my perfect palet.

Oh. Shit.

Turns out that the item I was so very willing to place in my mouth, simply minutes before, ended up being a small piece of shit. The dog, who I had locked out of the room might I add, just went around the room dropping pieces of shit all around like they were freaking bread crumbs. I guess she just wanted to find her way back, well congrats Roxy! Look what happened.

The realization happened milliseconds after I picked up the (as Vicki called it) "dingleberry" to put in my mouth. It went a little something like this:

"oh! I seemed to have dropped some steak on the floor. My mistake, it happens, I'll just pick it up really fast."
*bends over, picks up shit*
"That's squishy. That's not steak. Oh gosh!"
*splits piece of shit into two pieces of shit by accidentally almighty-pinching earlier said piece of shit out of panic, and then throws both pieces of shit across the room*
"That's shit!"

I was a little embarrassed at first and I didn't really want to tell Vicki, but the amount of laughter that was being expelled from my body was just too much for Vicki not to ask what was going on.

I explained to her the situation, often taking breaks to release more laughter into the world at what had just taken place. She didn't really get it at first.

"Vicki I..." *laughing in bewilderment* "you're dog...not steak...it was poop!" *laughing again, doubling over* "I almost ate! My hand...I need soap"

She only really understood what shenanigans had just gone down when I shared the story again to her younger sister Kristen, who was attempting to get some sleep in the next room before she had to take a final the next day. Apparently this happening was a loud enough happening to prevent her from sleeping at all. Only after I repeated the story for the youngest of the Shimkus sisters did Vicki, Kristen, and I join in a shared laughter that rang throughout the rooftops of Draper, Utah.

I was laughing so hard that breath wasn't even a real life concept anymore. The type of laughter where you can't hold in your pee. I write about it quite often. It's my number one favorite thing in this world. Honestly. That's literally what I base relationships off of. If I can't laugh with you, I can't be friends with you! (FINE. I can be friends with you, it's just hard okay?).

In fact, I did pee a little. On Kristen's bed. Just a little. She didn't know that before this, so if she's reading this then....sorry Kristen but I'm not really. Worth it. I think it was on a towel that was on her bed though, so, I mean, as long as she didn't dry herself off with it again, we're golden!

But wait! This post is dragging on and on. The funniest part of the story is that...this isn't even the end of it. There's more shit to come ladies and gentlemen! More shit indeed.

Tune in tomorrow for Oh. Shit. Part 2.

*Places hand over face* Just...just quiet time now.

It's recently come to my attention that I have a story for everything. I kind of need to calm it down because a) I'm using up all my stories and I really got nothing else going for me. and b) I don't really give people a chance to put in their words.

For example. I took my friend Seth to a Jazz game once, whether it was a date or not, I could not tell you. If it was, I did the askin'. Word.

What I'm getting at is the ENTIRE TIME I talked. Sharing little anecdotes, stories, morals, parables, quoting scripture, hell I probably even did some sign language. In case you didn't get the message yet. I talked THE. ENTIRE. TIME.

Now maybe he just didn't have anything to say. Maybe he was nervous. Or maybe he really did say something, just when he said words I mouthed the same words at the exact same time therefore causing me to believe I really said the words he had said! (okay that's a bit of a stretch, but still).

I think I'm a nervous talker. Okay. I think I'm a sad talker, mad talker, hungry talker, I-have-to-pee talker, moment-of-silence talker, even an nobody's-here-but-that's-not-stopping-me talker,  but mainly a nervous talker. For some reason I think silence is a sign of awkwardness or of uncomfortableness, which it's not. But that just won't go through my head, will it?

I like to talk. I could literally talk for hours. Not alone of course (although I'm not saying it hasn't happened already), just with people. Anybody. We can share our stories. The funny ones, the sad ones, the ones that don't have ends just yet.

Because as much as I love to talk, I love to listen. So try me. You've got a story, I wanna hear it. You need to get something off your chest? Put it onto mine, that's fine, I've been working out, I can take it.

In the end, I think I need to take a second. I'm not going to stop being myself, cuz let's get real, I'm bloody awesome (*winks*).

I think sometimes I just need to not be going. Sometimes I need to let you get in a word.

Idaho? No no. YOUdaho. (gosh that was unoriginal)

I went to bed last night at 5:30 a to the m.

Then I sat in the middle seat of a car for about 5 hours, as two giant men creatures laid on top of me and slept.

My eyes hurt. But everything was worth it. Great people. Great friends. Great memories. Football is a long game, especially when your toes go numb. But everything was worth it. Boise has more to offer then one would think.
Man, do I love people. Not all people! Don't get too confident...but some people. Some people lots.

I'll give you a story when my brain functions in a way that is normal to human people functioning.
(Tomorrow eh? Stay tuned!)

So you didn't want soup? My bad.

I was never asked to a dance till my Senior prom. At the school I went to, every grade was allowed to go to Prom and every dance in exsistance. We were too small to limit Prom to just the seniors. There'd be 55 of us just roaming like lost cattle on the dance floor. What I mean is that there were chances for me to be asked to a dance. I'm not complaining, though. I mean whatever, I've heard it before, I'm too pretty for the boys, I intimidated boys with my muscles and intellect,  blah blah blah. SURE.

I'm just saying that I was always the one taking dates. I asked a boy to every girl's choice dance except my freshman year, which I wish I had because I ended up being the 13th wheel at dinner and all activities.

I know.

I put in effort. Did my hair, wore makeup that didn't come off for a week, and put on a bra. A real bra. That's a feat for me. You must understand.

It was Winter Formal of my Junior year of high school. My friend Emily had this boyfriend that kind of looked like Ron Weasley (and I still say that's where the love all started). She told me she could set me up with his little brother for this dance. He was an attractive soul, so who was I to say no?

The night of the fateful dance arrived. My blind date was soon to be in the same house as me. I curled my hair, applied some deodorant, because that's the most needed thing in this world (or in my world),  and put on a dress that my mom thought was a little too low cut.

*flashback*

"Jeannie. That seems a little low cut."
"Mom. It's not like I have boobs that even fill out this dress. I'm practically stuffing my bra."
"What do you expect though, when you're slow dancing with a boy? He'll be able to see your cleavage. Your boobs. They're just...well they're just right there."
"I don't know if you can tell or not, but uh. I don't have cleavage. I barely even have boobs. So if all he's trying to do is see my boobs he'll have to do much more work then just look down my dress, because if he does look down my dress, all he'll see are my feet."

*real time*

So there I was, cleavage-less and all. Primped, proper, and ready to dance my ass off.
This kid, we'll call him Stan, comes in and I see him for the first time in all my life. Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it.

Well it actually wasn't that bad, I'm just being dramatic over here, surprise surprise.

The point is that we had never met, and now we had to spend the whole evening together, eating, dancing, bowling even, and enjoying each others company. I didn't mind though. He was attractive, and younger than me. Am I a cougar? I mean, there's a chance.

This is where the story begins my readers of the world!

After Stan and I took our dance picture out on the balcony, we just ended up making out the rest of the night. We didn't dance, we just hung out in the girl's bathroom and made out.

END OF STORY.

ha. Ya no. That's not what happened. That's never...happened...*cries a bit*

So we went to dinner. We went to this Sushi restaurant downtown. It was a smooth place to be. We had to take off our shoes and everything! Real talk. It was hard-core.

I was sitting next to the window and he was next to the aisle. Emily was sitting across from me, her Ron Weasley across from his little brother, and then my friends Katie and Oli were at the end of the table. It was perfect. Everything was great. Laughs were happening, and Stan and I didn't really have to make awkward small talk, because everyone was just talking, at all times.

We ordered and then all sat around and dazzled in each other's company. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, or well, when it struck about 8:17 ish, our food arrived in the arms of our waitress.

Stan was about to drink his bowl of Miso soup and I was as eager as could be to get the food onto the table so I could eat all of it. SO. At the precise moment I stuck my flaling arm across the table to get it from the waitress, Stan lifted his bowl up to his face.

What happened next? Well in case you haven't gotten there yourself, the timing was so perfect that I punched Stan's bowl of soup. Just punched it out of his hands and onto his lap, or onto his face, onto his shirt, tie, onto my dress, but worst of all, onto my pride.

I did't move. I just stared out the window for a good 2 minutes before I decided to crank my head to the left and see the damage I had done.

Soup. That was all I could see now. There was practically a soup cloud from the soup evaporating, or there would have been given the right temperature, the right time, and the possibility that that were even possible.

"I'm. *pause* So. *pause* Sorry."
"This is my dad's suit..."
"I'm. *pause* SO. *pause* Sorry." I wanted to curl up into some sort of position, preferably the fetal one, and just kind of lie there for awhile.

What a scene. I was like Mike Tyson for a moment. Hands up, at the ready, planning out my every move. He's lifting up the bowl now? OKAY STRIKE. *punch. bam. pow. blood. guts. eyeballs falling out. a sailboat in the distance yelling "land ho!"*

I tried to clean him up with my tongue ...I mean towel slash napkin, but it did nothing. We were the "smelling-like-soup" couple the rest of the night. That was my nickname for forever.
"Hey soup girl!"
"It's actually cup-for-pants! Thankyou" (you'd only think that were maybe kinda sorta funny if you've read all my posts...have you? eh?)

I kept apologizing throughout the night. Probably not my best move. Not very smooth. But I was young. Naive. Smelling like soup. My mind was not in the game! I guess it's for the best I was only asked to one dance, who knows what sort of things would have happened on all those other dates. Oh boy.

I'll tell you this though, Stan's butt was nice to look at when we went bowling.

*thinking back*
That butt. 

No thank YOU world.

*sees boy I'm hard core crushing on in library*
*he waves at me as I'm walking up the stairs to be on the floor he is on*

"Hey Jeannie!"
"Hey, (insert name). How ya..."

Then I went to take a step up the stairs. To move myself upwards and upwards until maybe he and I would be face to face and wouldn't have to shout in a whispered tone. I'm lifting my foot up, with all the anticipation for it to be at a higher level then it was before. Then, my foot begins to lower. Naturally  I put all the force of my body, and my thoughts (which at the moment were go crazy, like a 3 year old who's babysitter didn't know he's not allowed to have candy after 5 PM), down onto the upcoming step.

Only the step wasn't there. Instead, I landed on the same level ground that I was previously on. As a result, I tripped, like some teenager on acid for the first time. I tripped hard. I caught myself with the hands that were eagerly, idiotically, and passionately waving this kid up and down. Boy am I a show when I'm around people of my liking.

Maybe missing the step was a blessing in disguise. I looked like a fool either way, hand motioning or tripping, but this way at least I could brush it off like...

"Ya, totes did that on purpose homie. Ya know? Like. Word to ya mother. Just wanted to make them lips move toward them skies and make you laugh a bit. Word...to ya fatha...?"

But instead I said something like...

"Oh ya, huh. So there wasn't a stair there."
*Kind of laughing but not responding to my words*
"I kind of tripp...How bout I just meet you...
*keeps walking*
"Ya okay, yup sounds good!"

Don't worry. I still talked to him at the top of the stairs. Blubbering idiot I was. Honestly. My life sometimes...

All I was going to do was ask him how he'd been,  but the world wouldn't have that, would it?

Anybody have some clothes I could borrow?

Perks of Being A Wallflower.

It's my favorite book. And it has been since the moment I read it. Then read it again. Then read it again.

I saw the movie, finally.

It was a bad idea watching it in a public area (the library), because tears were not only forming, but they were rolling down my face.

It kind of made me sad. In a good way though. I think at least. For awhile after it I felt lonely and like I couldn't control my own future. I didn't like the feeling, but I loved the movie, so now I'm conflicted. I just need to not watch it alone next time, then maybe I won't feel so alone.

Okay. Now that my feelings are out where everyone can see them.
Apparently I have been asked out on a date. Or a man wants to take me on a date. Which is a weird concept. One that I've never encountered before.

Well there goes all my "never-been-on-a-date" jokes! Man that was some good material! Okay well I've been on dates, well maybe I've been on date. Singular. I ended up spilling soup all over the guy.

That'll be the post for tomorrow. Yup. That'll be it.
I should start thinking ahead, but I love making you fools come back for more. More I say! Muahahaha!

Bullet Points

I need advice. On everything. (except how to be pretty, awesome, intelligent, witty...etc)
But no. Advice. That's a thing I need constantly.

I think one of my favorite Christmas songs is "O Come, O Come Emmanuel"
It just sounds nice in my ears.

I got 100% on my first final of college.
All the answers were A...I don't understand.

I can't even wait until The Hobbit.
Not even a little bit. My heart hurts as a result.

I'm behind on all my tv shows.
My heart hurts as a result.

I went dumpster diving yesterday.
My wallet accidentally got thrown away.

I'll probably blog about that tomorrow.
Or never.

Sometimes I over think things.
Okay, always I over think things.

If I could be anything else.
I'd choose a Velociraptor.

Well no I wouldn't really.
My heart hurts as a result.

There's reason in this.
There's reason in everything I do.

You just don't know it.
Not yet at least.

I'm freaking out! (heavy breathing)

When you're at the library and you get this surge of energy that can't be controlled, nothing but bad things can happen.

I'm running on 3 hours of sleep. Three whole hours. Why you ask? Because I'm in college, idiot! And I can do that.

We're sitting in some far off corner, in the depth of Utah State's widely known library (I'm not sure if it's "widely known"...that could be a lie). And it's deathly quiet. Deathly. Like. I have to look around every once and awhile to make sure that people are still moving.

*poke. poke. Whispers in a loud volume that's not even a whisper but sounds like a whisper tone*
"Hey. Heeeeeyyyyyy."
*annoyed as hell as they look up from their computer*
"What? What is it?"
"Oh! Phew. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive."
"You can see me moving. I'm literally typing on the computer."
"Ya. I know. But you see, it's deathly quiet in here. So I just had to make sure you weren't dead, because it's deathly quiet in here, and you were contributing to the deathly quietness."
*still annoyed as hell. With their eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared*
"K ya. I'm gonna go back to studying"

10 MINUTES LATER.

"Hey. HHHEEEEEEEYYYY."
"I will destroy you."

So ya. But I'm pretty good at keeping my thoughts to myself.
Haha. Ya who am I kidding. No I'm not good at that at all. In the least. I'm the furthest from good at keeping my thoughts to myself.

My mom's favorite saying to me while I was growing up was "Jeannie. Stop and think."
NO MOM. I'm an ADULT NOW.
I will do what I want!

(just wait, there will be a comment from my mother on this post, so if you're interested, look in the comments section for a special treat)

Anyways. I just really feel the need to scream. Not because of pent up emotion or anything, but because it'd be really really funny to see everyone's reaction. Unless that reaction is punching me in the face and knocking my lights out. I do not enjoy that.

Oh the library. La Biblioteca for those bi-lingual peeeps.

*UPDATE*
Told you (look in comments)

I lost all that I thought I maybe just might have had.

Wow. Okay I got really really cocky.

Remember how I was all talking about my viewership going up? Ya well...that was pretty short lived. I feel like that's because I commented on the fact though. Note to the rest of the world, when you have a blog and viewing hits go up, DON'T (and I repeat) DON'T comment on the fact. Just keep living your life in pure joy and bliss.

Tonight I told my advisor Amber Rae that she could text me over the break if she wanted to. I wouldn't mind. I don't mind textual conversations.

Only she didn't hear textual. So things got really weird really fast.

I like college. A whole lot. The last 2 weeks in the college world have been pretty unreal. Pretty special. Special times. I kind of don't want it to end, but I know it's going to once Christmas and Holiday things are going on.

What's even worse, is that things REALLY are going to end, because all the boys in my dorm that are the ones I call friends, leave for missions. *vadar style in Revenge of the Sith* NOOOOOOO.

So ya. Those are my thoughts.

*poof* This never happened.

p.s. I'll have something good for you tomorrow. Patience young sasquach, patience.

Zzzzz *snort*

I've got to stop the madness of staying up to late hours. I can't help it though! I'm just go go go go go. All the damn time.

I feel like it's starting to affect my mental health. I swear I'm hallucinating these days. Ya know. Seeing things in the...WHAT'S THAT?!

Woah. Okay sorry. I thought I saw something, but it was just these letters moving across the screen as I'm typing. That's what I saw. Nothing more. But it's 2:10 AM and I just ate some cereal and I keep hearing things and seeing things. Ghosts maybe. Probably. I heard Snow is haunted.

Not snow like the condensation. No no. I live in Snow. Snow hall. It's brilliant.

Anyways. Sleep deprivation. Right. Today I was trying to talk to my friend and I sat there for literally 3ish minutes trying to think of words. Any words. ANY WORDS. Nothing came out. Nothing at all. I finally got there, but by the time words came out of my mouth, she was asleep!

Okay not really, but she may as well have been.

Today I talked to a boy. Holy gracious. What a rush!
We exchanged some words. And it was magical.
"Hi."
"Hi."

I THINK I'M IN LOVE.
Don't you feel the connection, both mentally and physically? I'm getting all hot and bothered over here.
Let me just take that off real quick *throws sweatshirt on ground to reveal, wait for it, a t-shirt*
It's a sexy t-shirt okay?

No it's not. It's a normal soccer t-shirt. The kind that you wear every. single. day.

Okay disembodied voice.

Every.

Ok.

Day.

We get it!
Regardless.

Bed. Yup. That's a thing.

I'm Beaming With Pride! (oh shut up)

First off. I have passed the month of blogging! This post here is my day-after-a-month blog post. So congrats to me!

Psh. Blogging for a month is nothing. Pathetic almost! My dear friend Hannah blogged for a whole YEAR. And she didn't even have to bribe herself with anything. She did it out of pure joy.

I think I'm going to go month by month. I've enjoyed blogging every day. So. I'm going to go another month. Plus, viewership has oddly gone up (which is surprising, but I'm excited beyond belief!.......I mean. Like. It's whatever. There's people reading my blog. Cool I guess)

But in reality they probably accidentally stumbled upon it.
"Oh my gosh I was looking for some free kid targets and this weird girl's blog came up. Then I guess I just read it."

Two things.
One: Hey man, whatever way you got here, no complaints on my part!
Two: Well, I might have some complaints if the way you got here was via looking up child targets on the interwebs. I think that's probably pretty messed up, buddy.

OR

They google searched information on the Target store that is in the area they are moving to. Then they were bein' all stupid like and made the google key words be "Moving", "Target", and then they have some kids so they just decided to throw in that word too. Go figure!

That's it! I've solved it! So that's why my viewership has gone up in the numbers. Good to know. Geez. For a second there I was feeling kind of alright about myself, but not anymore.

Well, whatever reason you're here, (if you still are at this point) I appreciate you like none other. Stick around! You're good people.

Jeannie over and out!

I would call it, "READ ME PLEASE"

Or is that too subtle?

I want to write a column for my school's newspaper. It would pretty much be stories that I write on this here blog anyways, but more finalized and pretty and doesn't involve run on sentences that go on and on until you run out of breath as you try to reach the end of the sentence but if never seems to come.

*big gasp for air*

I'm a creative writing major and that's more journalism, but hay nobody has to know. (if you tell I will lick everything you eat, but without your knowledge...test me. I dare ya!)

It has come to my attention that sometimes my writing only makes sense in my head. I hope I'm not forcing things, although some people (CoughAnniecoughcough) tells me that sometimes it sounds forced. Also I hope you understand me when I talk in ways that people don't normally talk. Understand talking times means you need read Jeannie words in words that you read. (that was an example...I'm not crazy)

I didn't mean to call Annie out. She was giving me constructive criticism that I asked for. It's only fair. Don't hate her my lovable fans. Don't. Okay? Just don't. You don't even know her! HOW DARE YOU.

Have I ever told you about any of my dreams? I've blogged about things that have been preeeety strange. I'll just give you a quick rundown of them, in case I haven't already. And if I have, enjoy reading about them again!

The thing that inhabits my dreams the most are Zombies. Like I'm the last person on earth surviving on my wit and abilities to kill the already dead. I don't know why or for what reason that is at all. Maybe I was traumatized as a child? Like I walked in on two Zombies having sex or something.
*pause*
Why did I go there...sometimes man, sometimes

I also once had a dream that my name was Cup-for-pants. The reason? People, people. Do I ever know the reason?

No.

Disembodied voice! Look, I don't know what it is you have against me, but chill would ya? Can't even get any support on my own blog. Geez!

"I just had a wonderful baby girl. She's perfect. Blue eyes, bald head with a splendid peach fuzz."
"That's fantastic! Congratulations! How old is she?"
"Just a few days. I can already imagine her future. It's going to be everything and more."
"Wow. I've never seen someone so happy. What did you name this angel?"
"Cup-for-pants."
"I'm sorr...I'm sorry what did you name her?"
"Cup-for-pants. A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl."
"Cup-for-pants?"
"Yup."
"But wai..."
"She's perfect."
"Her name is Cup-for-pa..."
"Shhhhhh! She's sleeping."
"*looks around to make sure reality is still reality, leaves room out of confusion*"


One time, I went to eat some soup. In my dream of course, who eats soup in real life?
So I went to eat some soup.
I dipped the spoon in to get a big spoonful, because it smelt so good.
I pulled the spoon from the broth and a wet, damp, sopping, moist pile of hair was resting nicely in the spoon, awaiting my approval in the form of eating it.
HAIR.

I have a dream every night. I remember them most nights, and sometimes I don't. But when I do, I kind fear for my sanity. I should start keeping a dream journal.

For awhile Miley Cyrus and I were best friends. For many many, almost too many dreams Miley Cyrus and I were best friends. She was second to Zombies in being in my dreams the most. Not anymore though, and I feel sad.

So. Very. Sad.

I feel like a lost a real friend.
So the rest of you stay, because I can't bare to lose any more.

*cries into body pillow*

Ya know, I totally knew that.

Finals are coming up. The dreaded week of those tests that test all your knowledge on everything. Everybody gets all stressed and eats their specific food items that correlate to what stress means in their mind. (for me, it's dill pickle spears, and french bread...just in case anyone wants to be a generous friend during finals week)

Okay that was a confusing paragraph. Most the time I go back and read what I have written and I think to myself...how the hell is anybody suppose to understand that? Especially if I don't even understand it?  But then I say f**k it and continue on with my day.

WOAH. That was so crazy vulgar! That's not who I am. College IS changing me. I mean...if you only knew what I did the other night. (hint: I didn't do anything...).......So maybe it's not changing me that much.

I went to church with my friend Chuckie on Sunday. It was a non-denominational church and it was actually pretty interesting. A lot of the student athletes go to that church, so it was fun to see them all in a different environment.

I sat there, listened to the insanely passionate words that the man leading the sermon was saying. Boy, he was sweating and so I started sweating. I'm a sympathy sweater, a sweater just in general, but it intensifies when I'm around other sweaters. So there's that about me.

It was good. It was passionate and good. And I sang a little. Not loudly. Just loud enough that I could hear myself breathing some words. My voice is gone (as per ushe), so I couldn't belt it like I would've loved to do.

At the end, I had in my hand the plastic folder thing that kept all the different songs we sang that day. It was just there, hanging out in my hand, and I was just carrying on with my day. Then there was this nice man standing next to me. His greying hair had surpassed his shoulder and his smile had barely surpassed the boarders of where his nose is. (aka, he wasn't smiling).

I was beginning to walk away when I saw this man stick out his hand. I had sat next to him the whole church long and so I was flattered that he was introducing himself to me. His hand wasn't out very far, and it wasn't really that open. It was the same amount of open as a hand is when it's just dangling there, at your side.

I was still really happy and I stuck my hand out and into his, forcing his hand open a little bit more...

Yup. So turns out.
"Oh uh. I was just going to ask for your music folder..."
"Huh? Oh right! No ya, that makes more sen..I just...ya okay"
*hands him folder*
"It was still really nice to meet yo..."
*walks off*

So I forced my hand into an unsuspecting man's hand, that was simply reaching for a folder of music that I barely sang loud enough for my own inner ears to hear. That was awkward.

Then I went to say hi to Weston and all he said to me was, "I saw the whole thing"
Then my head just kind of hung there, as if I were a dead person that didn't have control of her muscles, or something. I dunno. Whatever.

But the people were really nice, and it was an interesting experience, to be able to compare different churches. It's an interesting time. As was forcing a handshake on an un-handshake wanting person.

Sometimes. Sometimes.

Condoms? Anyone? Anyone?

This is my friend Bradley. Somehow, some way, we both came to college with snowmen turtle-neck shirts. Was this planned? Not in the least. Do we look more bad-ass than all other college kids that are out raging, getting plastered every night, and wearing those avatar sun-glasses combined? Yes. Yes a million times over. Do I have any regrets? Never.

There was a Christmas party tonight on my floor. It was crazy. There was twister and then some chips. I think I understand what college parties are now. Oh boy *fanning self*.

After this, we started to play truth or dare. Naturally, because I aint no whimp, I chose dare. Because if I chose truth they'd probably all be, "who are you hard-core crushin on these days you silly gurl you?" And I'd have to be all, "well I'm kind of in love with my body pillow...it's a weird relationship, but he just gets me. I can't explain it."

And then they'd all just sit there staring at me being all slack-jawed and what not. Then drool would starting to waterfall out of their mouth, because that's what happens trust me, and it'd start to puddle at their feet. It's just a mess I really did NOT want to deal with.

Instead, I was dared to go up to a room on a floor I did not know, knock with all my might, and say,

"Hi, I'm so sorry. This is kind of awkward and I don't mean to interupt whatever it is you're doing, but do you happen to have a condom we could use?"

And then I'd pull Bradley (because we matched so well) into the room and he'd kind of awkwardly wave.

Room 1:
*pushes door open because it doesn't lock* Giant gathering of freshmen. Mixture of boys and girls, all sitting around the counter in the kitchen, playing cards or gambling, or making drugs of some sort.

"Hi, I'm so sorry. This is kind of awkward and I don't mean to interrupt whatever it is you're doing, but do you happen to have a condom we could use?"

*Bradley pokes his head in behind me and waves and smiles*
*Silence. everyone stares and doesn't know how to react.*

Finally awkward girl in the back kind of breathed out, "uh. no. no we don't."
Hah. It was brilliant! One girl honestly looked like this face made out of keyboard characters O_O < -

Room 2:
*Knocks on door, Bradley and I were hand in hand...door opens and there are a million kids lying on the ground in the dark watching a movie, all focusing on the bright light at the door*

"Hey, sorry I hope I'm not really interrupting anything."
"Oh no! You're fine!"
*girl in backround*
"You guys honestly look so adorable. I can't even handle it."
"*shy laugh, playing it off* I was wondering if any of you guys had a condom we could borrow?"
*shock*
"Uh. *begins to giggle a bit* I don't. No. Sorry. Do any of you guys?"
*kids in back...in a hesitant voice*
"No. We don't either..."
"Oh. Okay well thanks anyways! Have fun watching your movie!"

Now why I asked if we could "borrow" a condom makes no sense. It's not like I'd give it back to them after it were all used and gross things. (don't think about this too hard. Don't imagine it! DON'T!........ah man you did, huh? Sorry dude)

Anyways, it was funny. If any of those kids see me in the hallway, I'm the slut that asked them for a condom, but ya know what? It was a dare, okay?! You can't hold this against me! I simply won't let you!

For the sake of entertainment people. Always for the sake of entertainment. Oh bother. 

I know. Video times are the absolute worst.

I'm not at home, so I'm using my friend's computer to blog on things that should always be blogged about. 

I bought a new album today. Using free monies that I got when purchasing my mac-style computer. It's a Christmas album that involves the musical stylings of Pentatonixs. 

What's that? You want an example of this awesome music you hear me speaking so highly of? 

FINE. Whatever, I'll do it. 

I went to their concert over the summer with Victoria Shimkus (SHOUTOUT HAY). And it was amazing. Everyone should experience these amazing people that sing amazing songs that are amazing. 

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday time. I hope this makes everything a little bit better. Check out deep voiced guy. He has a deep voice, and it's crazy.

Rain. Don't ever go away.

It was raining up here in Logan. All day. All day long. I love the rain. It's the best to play in, to watch, to listen to, to hold a cup out and drink it sometimes...right.

We have a quote wall in my room. It lines the back wall as our little piece of decoration in this place. We stick post-it notes on the wall of funny things people in our place have said. For example:

"You can't be Mulan because your disOriented"

or

"Is it noticeable?...*turns around* YUP. Yup it's noticeable!"  (this was in reference to whether it was noticeable that I peed my pants or not. It was pretty obvious)

or

"*Amy and Abi have normal conversation* Jeannie: You guys! If it keeps raining, we should get trash bags, put our bodies in them, and roll down Old Main. *blank stares*"

WELL. Let's just say that they may have laughed at my sudden outburst, but guess what...that's exactly what we did!

We had a giant group. So giant we probably could have filled a normal sized classroom where students learn. (gosh my metaphors get kinda lacking when the night times come around). There were probably 50 of us freshman going down Old Main, at 10 PM, in the rain, wearing trash bags that looked like diapers in the end. We were the cutest giant-looking, diaper wearing adults.

At times, we'd all link hands and count. One. Two. Three. And we'd throw our bodies down onto the ground with a force that could have broken a coconut into two pieces without even a second hit! (...okay seriously?).

Somebody would slingshot us down the hill, and then your back would hit the world with such intensity that it would break and all and then your wrists would bend in ways that remind you of the exorcist, or of owls that can turn their head all the way around. Your body would get grass burns, specifically the bum, and mud blanketed your every skin showingness.

I took a shower when I got home and leaves were falling from places leaves should not fall from, to say the least.

I went shirtless, but not braless, because I have some standards you fools. So my back is all scraped up. From the grass. From sliding down on the grass. In a bag. Not for any other reason. No reason at all. Nope. Not this girl. No. No no no.

Pain is still in existence. But the best kind of pain. The pain that with every move, hurts so bad, that it makes you remember how much fun you had.

Whatta night.

P.s. I have a troubling time blogging well while people are being all noisy in my dorm room, so apologies if blogging time was hard to follow or not funny enough for you to giggle or pee your pants. I'm sorry. Okay?! Okay. Gosh just move on. Try to get a life would ya? What are you doing anyways? Just reading my blog.

Okay okay. Fair. You can stay, because you're reading my blog, and I'm desperate. Come back tomorrow, k?

Where's Roger?

These are my roommates. These are the people who see me at my best and worst, but more or less at my worse.

It's interesting living with other people. With people that aren't your family, because they have every reason to judge you. For example, when I get in crazy-Jeannie mode, they could be all:

"Like. Ohmygosh. Who is this girl? Like. We were given, like, the weirdest person, like, ev like er. 

But then they aren't and you're thankful. 

It's refreshing. Almost like splashing cold water on your face when your in an airplane bathroom, and you try to splash it like those girls on the face wash commercials, because they do it with such style. But then you fail at the style and realize that nobody actually washes their face like that, but you keep trying anyways. (why you're in an airplane bathroom, I couldn't tell ya)

In the end I like them. 

I wonder what living with me would be like...I mean as an outsider. Lord knows I live with myself every day...every. single. day. You think you get sick of me?! TRY BEING ME! 

That was much more angsty than I anticipated. Woahaho. I'm like Harry Potter in the 5th book over here. 

We took our Christmas card photos this week, so look out! You may be getting one in the mail soon. 

p.s. Roger was in every single one of our pictures! (my pet plastic bird. Look hard for him!)

Is that...is that a tear?

Sunday was lazy Sunday. Well every Sunday is lazy Sunday. Scratch that. Every day is lazy -day.
But on Sunday I cried. Literal tear droplets pitter-pattered down my face. Not for any inner-emotional reason. No saddness or anything. I didn't even stubb a toe! No knife in quad or white-board cleaning solution in eye (which has actually happened before...heh that memory just came back...)

No. I cried because I watched a VH1 special on SNL.

Why did that make me cry you ask? They kept showing clips of different SNL sketches. And then they had a segment called "the women of SNL" and everything made sense in my life. I cried because all the sudden, for a split second, everything made sense in my life.

I'd always known I wanted to be on SNL as a writer or something (not that I could do that...I wish. Maybe. MOVING ON)

But watching this segment during this special made everything just click, almost like high heels on tile, hell maybe it clicked even more than that. I felt like watching that special was the world confirming to me that I really do need to be in that business when I'm older. I just know it. I don't know how though, so I hope I figure that out.

Tina Fey was talking on the special, and she almost started getting teary-eyed. Almost. Okay she almost started getting teary-eyed.
*Pan camera from Tina Fey on tv over to Jeannie curled up on the couch with tear-drops slowly rolling  down her cheek*

Luckily I was home alone, cuz that could have been quite the embarrassingment...so naturally I just tell everyone anyways on this here blog. Smooth. But that's not the point. I had an epiphany! One of them is rare to come by, I'll tell ya. You gotta share it with the world when you get one of them! Like I am...right...now...

So that's me. The emotional girl on the couch, crying because she wants to do things like SNL so badly.

MY FEELINGS.

Some people are born great.

And then other people are just born.

I lost my key to my dorm about two weeks after the start of school. I lost it at a friend's house. I asked those who lived in the house of losing items if they could scour all around the couch that stole my things.

It's been 3 months of my roommates having to leave the latch out so I could get into my room. And when I would come home from class an hour before any of my roommates, I'd have to lounge out in the hallways, taking naps on the cold floor. Or hide in the stairwell, eating the small flies that landed on the floor by my feet, just trying to stay alive.

We have a whiteboard on our fridge. There are always little notes on there like "we need more paper towels". Or "* insert picture of fish*". Or "Clean up your crap".
The two most common tid-bits on there have been"
"Whoever leaves last, leave the door open for Jeannie" AND
"Jeannie. GET AN EFFING KEY"

So I finally took the advice of the little white, erasable board and went out and got myself an effing key. 10 dollars worth of an effing key.

After 3 wholes months, today was the day I decided to turn my life around. I skipped all my classes today, so I thought I needed to be somewhat productive and getting a key was the way to do it.

I took the long walk to the Lundstrum to buy a new key. (the student center that contains machines for washing, treadmills for running, and mailboxes for getting mail...of which I don't get).

I paid my fee like I was paying a whore and returned home in merriment to show my roommate Dani how well the key worked. She was pleased and applauded in pride. We hugged and danced and drank some champagne. (or did we...?)

The day was good. I erased the white board and all was well. All was right. That is until...

I saw Kylie at the training room. I was getting into the reverse hot tub to ice my aching limbs, when I begin a conversation with the Kylie character. We chatted idly about this and that. Who was taking who to the governor's ball at the end of the year, ya know, small gossip. When all of the sudden she says to me.
"Oh by the way Jeannie. Apparently we found your key card."
"You mean the one I lost at the very beginning of the year?"
"Ya that one."
"You mean the one I asked you guys to look for in your home?"
"Ya! That...that's the one!"
"You mean the same key card I had waiting 3 months to replace until THIS VERY MORNING. The same morning that would soon lead to the afternoon in which you tell me the fact that you found my key card?!"
"Ya....ya...I guess so."

Timing. Not my strong suit. Apparently my card had been sitting on their counter for something like two weeks and nobody felt the need to tell me these things had been found.

Like I said.
Some people are just born.

Video time.

Because it's necessary.

If you ever feel the need to cry, just watch this.

Slash comma and or you just feel the need to listen to an amazing story, yet again, watch this. No regrets will come upon your soul. The only regrets to take place will come if, and only if, you choose to pass up watching this.

Regrets! *echos* regrets regrets regrets. 

Aint no stopping me. Word.

I returned home today. To the land of the Loganites. With cows mooing at every turn. And silhouettes of cowboys driving the car in front of you. It's fantastic. It's weird. It's smelly. But boy is it home. 

I was home alone for a good while. A long time. All by myself. Nobody here. Nobody that could come into the room. Nobody that could record me singing in the shower (which has surprisingly happened on more than one occasion...) Nobody!

So I might have walked around my dorm in the nude. Because I could. Because, like I mentioned before, nobody could stop me.

It was liberating. It was refreshing. It was so damn cold.

So I put clothes on. And laid on my bed and watched Grey's Anatomy. And nobody could stop me.

Part two. The Bagel.

DISCLAIMER: If you are reading part two before part one, then obviously you are all wrong. So go back one more story and read part one before this, or you will be nothing but lost. Lost I say!


*Like the grandfather from Princess Bride*
Now where were we? Ah yes.

*now in normal Jeannie voice...which some of you might not know what that sounds like...okay just in normal way you would read Jeannie post voice*

So I had just been made a fool of by my dentist. Right. Still stings, but I mean, whatever.

Go about 5 months down the line. The fresh smells of June are entering through the window you left open the night before because it's summer and you can do that (but then your mom gets mad at you and is all like "why you be waisting our air-conditioning?" And you're all "quiet fool")

Annie had just returned home from college, and the father of the home suggested we take Samwise Gamgee up to dog lake. It was an odd day and therefore, no leashes were needed. The stars were in line. The sun was up, thus preventing anyone from actually seeing the stars in line, but they were in the line, I swear!

I was sitting shotgun, mainly because Annie is awful at calling it, but I was there and I was enjoying it. The day was looking like a good one. And to add onto the whole winning shotgun goodness, my pop decided to stop by Einstein's Bagels on the way. Grab us some bagels so we could carbo-load before we hiked up the dreaded mountain to *dramatic pause* DOG LAKE. (oh wait, you already knew where we were going...)

I picked up a plain bagel, I had already eaten the cinnamon and sugar one guys, don't worry.
I bit into the bagel and felt a crunch. Kind of like when you get sand in your mouth and you bite down and all you hear is

Crrrrrrruunch. Crrrrrrrrrruu.

I didn't know what it was. It was bigger than any sand grain, also why would there be a sand grain in my bagel? Why I ask?! No sense was being made at all. So I pulled out the piece of bagel that was in my mouth with every intention of getting to the bottom of this madness. I looked down at the piece and saw something white sticking out of it.

"What is that?" Internal Jeannie asked.
"It looks like...like...a tooth." Internal Jeannie answered.

Holy crap. A tooth was baked into my bagel. How did that even happen? I mean honestly! It's a tooth. A tooth, people! Was there some person working at the bagel shop that just loses teeth constantly, like they don't even notice anymore when they lose one more tooth.

"Hey toothless Sally! How ya doing today? What's this? Yesterday you had 5 teeth, and now you only have 4! Oh toothless Sally. You little rascal you."

And toothless Sally's only reply would be to cock her head to the side, scrunch up her shoulders, and give her 4 toothed, creepy grin, that for some reason unbeknown to all else, melts the hearts of those working at Einstein's Bagel.

So I grabbed the tooth in between my pointer finger and my thumb, looked around to make sure my dad and Annie hadn't seen what just happened, then I slowly rolled down the window till only a crack was open, tossed the tooth out the window, said to myself "It's fine. Pretend it wasn't there. You saw nothing. Nothing! You hear me!?"

And just. Kept. Eating.

Ya. So. Finding part of tooth in my bagel didn't even stop me from eating it. I don't understand why. I mean, any rational person would probably stop eating anything, whatever it is, even if it was *insert really fancy name of food here*!

Not me. Like I said. It doesn't phase me.

For hell's sake Jeannie. It was a tooth!

Oh hush disembodied voice. 

Okay so this story doesn't have that creepy of an ending after all. The reason I gave you such a detailed background story yesterday was because, upon arriving at the parking lot of Dog Lake, I stroked my tongue across my teeth. Low and behold, one of my caps had fallen out! 

Turns out that tooth in bagel was actually Jeannie tooth in bagel! Not sure if that still makes this story okay or anything, but it makes it a little less gross when put in retrospect. Not only was it not actual, real tooth bone, but it was Jeannie's not actual, real tooth bone! 

The little wins are the ones that count the most. 

Part 1. The teeth.

I don't know what exactly is wrong with me. (don't answer that all of everyone out there)

Whenever there is something in my food, like a hair, or a finger or something, I just end up shrugging it off. It doesn't get to me for some reason. I just say to myself, "It's fine. Pretend it wasn't there. You saw nothing. Nothing! You hear me!?"......And I just continue eating.

It's either a gift, or a curse. I haven't decided yet.

Backround:

About two years ago I went to a soccer tournament in Florida. It was magical, as one would assume a tournament in Florida would be- despite the fact it was cold and sucked a lot.

We had one more game in the tournament to go. It was one of those lame tournaments. Ya know the ones where no matter how many games you may win, you don't get a medal or a gold star or even a damn cookie! All you get is pride. Pshh. What is it good for? Absolutely Nothing. (UH).

Anyways. So it was our last game. We had done well thus far, and once the game was over, I got to go to Harry Potter world! The world of all worlds! The world that, if I got to choose, would be the only world that mattered on this earth, assuming I'd be a witch of course. there's still a chance.

It was almost half time. The time where half the game has occurred. Where the whistle is blown and we get to drink water. Water!

But we weren't there yet. Instead, a girl decided to dribble really fast at me. Almost as fast as the snitch, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. (now I'm stuck on H to the P...well I guess I always am).

She kicked the ball kind of far. Out of her reach. Her grasp? She failed to hold onto the ball. Her foot grasp? Is that a thing?

Boy I'm getting sidetracked! OKAY. So I'll try to speed this up, considering it's only the backround.

So she kicked the ball real far, and I came out with a one-v-one style dive. We met the ball at the same time. And by met the ball at the same time, I mean I met the ball and she met the underside of my jaw.

*CRUNCH SCRAPE WHISTLE BLOOD*

My top teeth? Welp. They were all chipped. Like wood chips. Or Chip Skylark from Fairly Odd Parents. Hay maybe even........I got nothing.

I got up and could feel shards of my teeth lining my lips. I turned around to my teammate Megan and said,

"I dust chit all miae teet"

Her response was so comforting that it reminded me of my childhood bed. The one you can wrap yourself up in, and feel safe and warm. Not a care in the world!

"Okay you did *pause* but it's not that bad"

I could feel my eyes widen to an unnatural size. Kind of like when you blow up a balloon too much and you know it's going to pop. Ya. My eyes were the size of the balloon right before the popping happens.

KABOOM.

Oh shiz man. There they go! Look what you did!

The rest of my magical day was very hard to enjoy. I couldn't swallow without sounding like a middle school girl with braces, who was just learning how to keep the spit inside her mouth. It all hurt. Butterbeer was still the best thing of all, but I couldn't drink it and look cool at the same time, which is how your suppose to look while drinking Butterbeer. It was a disaster! (or one of the best times of my life, but for the sake of the pity you are suppose to feel while reading this story, we'll stick with disaster)

I got home on New Years day. The dentist people waited up for me, because they thought it was a life altering, teeth hanging from my gums, forever ugly, teeth problem.

They took one look at me a laughed. There was pretty much nothing wrong. They just put some caps on my teeth, shook their heads in embarrassment (for me), and sent me on my merry way. Apparently I've gone down in my dentist's history books. I went in for my 6 month check up two six months ago and all I got was.

"Hi, I'm Jeannie Woller and I'm here for an appointment."
"Alright Jeannie Wo...Wait. Are you the girl that we stayed up on New Years waiting for?"
"Yup that's m..."
"We all thought it was gonna be something crazy, but then you just had like, two chipped teeth" *laughter*
"Ya. That was m..."
*too much laughter. Uncontrollable laughter. What's that on the floor?! OHMYGOSH IT'S URINE*

Ya. This is gonna be a two-parter.
Till tomorrow kids!

Thankfulness. It's a real thing.

It's that day again. What day you ask? The day where you stuff yourself silly, throw parts of rolls at each other, witness a father/son soda fight, and tell a Helen Keller joke that makes your grandma laugh so hard that she cries.

Doesn't that happen everywhere?

Okay people. Okay. You should know most about me by now. I'm not really hiding anything. I'm not really ashamed of who I am, how I act, or what I do (most the time) (which should be obvious considering I tell you all my stories, no matter what it is. well I tell everyone all my stories...I'm practically on repeat, a loop if you will)

So I'm going to take a second and calm down. I'm going to calm right down and tell you a few things I'm grateful for. I know, how cliche, right? Well maybe, but not really, because that's the point of today. I can't express all of my thanks in one sitting. Nobody can, and if you can you should probably fix that.

I'm thankful for all the families I have. The countless families I have. My blood relatives and then also the friends that are family, the friends that are becoming family, and the friends that will always be there, even if they aren't right now.

I'm thankful for living rooms, because when the day is done, it's there where everyone sits down, gets off their feet, and where everyone shares their stories.

I'm thankful for boxes. Empty boxes. Because when all other forms of entertainment fail, boxes really know what to do.

I'm thankful for not having a car at college, because the people who give me rides are the people who I can talk to. They are the people that want to listen.

I'm thankful for socks and wooden floors.

I'm thankful for being able to figure things out for myself.

I'm thankful for people accepting that I need to figure things out for myself.

I'm thankful that I now really know what the difference between like and love is. You see. I like my sketchers, but I love my prada backpack.

Okay scratch that. I guess I'm just thankful for the movie 10 Thing I hate about You. Or at least thankful for the beauty Heath Ledger once put on this earth.

I'm thankful for laughter. But the deep laughter, where you can't breathe and you pee your pants.

I'm also thankful for fake/pity laughter, because without it I feel like people would just be staring blankly at me whenever I talk.

I'm thankful for the ability to listen to people. To really listen. To listen and remember.

I'm thankful for a person's history. For the stuff that makes them who they are.

I'm thankful for you all reading my stuff, even when I try to be all deep like.

I think I'm just thankful. For all things. For all thing always.

I'm full. Eh...Oh well.

Do you want some life advice? Some advice that will help you throughout the entire time that you are living? Okay. Grab onto something people cuz shit's about to get real.

Making out with a stranger is completely fine if and only if you are getting a free mall-style pretzel, with the spicy cheese of course.

ha! Ya sure. Ya right Jeannie, making out with a stranger let alone anyone? You're funny.

I know.

No! My real advice was going to be don't take a nap after you eat a lot of tortilla chips. They stick with you man, and it's the worst.

I just eat. That's all I do. I don't stop. Well I stopped one time, but then I passed out and bad things happened. I eat more down here in the Sandy area (place of living) then I do in the Logan area (place of college times) (I'm glad I could clear that up for you guys)

It's okay. I'm technically on holiday. Or on vacation. So I'm taking advantage of seeing food and not having to ask people if I can eat it or if they are willing to share.

I will eat it all! Muahahahahaha. Hahahaha. haha. hah. *gasp gasp* hahahaha. *bends over* ha. *huff* ha *huff* *falls over dead*

WOAH. Sorry. I didn't mean to die. I was just laughing at how brilliant I am!

Jeannie you're not.

Disembodied voice! Why you come around as often as you do?

I'm still eating chips. Right now. As we speak. (are we speaking?) Ya I don't feel great.
I need to have more purpose in these posts. BUT IT'S VACATION.
So suck it up, just for a few more days.


Okay. In order to get more followers slash readers (because apparently I'm the most desperate person in the world of worlds), I promised some shout outs.

Kristen Shimkus. You are a person. A person that is in existence. You have an ugly blanket named Germ, which is rightfully named considering it's disgusting. Congrats on being alive. Now you have to read my blog for ever and always. WIN.

Goodnight moon, goodnight bear. Goodnight dog that farts on blanket.
Be thankful for all things, because tomorrow is just that kind of day.

More eating! Hurray!

Never blog at late times. Never.

It's mother effing 3 A.M.

I'm home. Like home home. Not the home that I say I'm going to every night when I'm at the place of college.

I'm at the home where I've had the same Beatles poster hanging on my door since 4th grade. The same four giant pieces of paper, taped together. (I should go into detail about that late, but as I once said before, it's mother effing 3 A.M.)

I miss my school home. I really do. It's weird! It's nice to be home home though. I went with some old school neighborhood friends, then surprised my friend at the airport! I dunno. It was fun.

Hokay. Remember my post from yesterday? The one that was maybe a little sad, but also maybe a little confusing? Like you weren't sure what was happening but you kept reading because you were SOO very intrigued? Good! Well....

I'm in the Cache Valley Symphony. I know. I'm living large.
Anywho.

My conductor lost his wife about 4 weeks ago, on the night of one of our rehearsals  As a result, every rehearsal that we had he would start crying during the slow songs, because every one of them brought back memories he had with her. He would stop us and tell us stories. They were all so beautiful and poetic. My heart broke every time.

Did I ever mention I took a personality test and I am Expressive/Expressive.
Who knows what that means?
Not I!
Or you?
Or you?!
Wow. Nobody knows.

It's mother effing 3 A.M.
Well 3:08 now.

This has been the most pointless post.

The stuff that moves you.

The two share a kiss. Not overdoing it, they are in a church after all, but they aren't holding back. They are in love, and now they can be in love forever. Nothing is stopping them. Nothing would've stopped them anyways, but it's tradition. Now, well now all they have is each other. That's all they want, and that's all they need.

***

The man stroked his snowy hair, unintentionally slicking it back with the sweat that had been accumulating. He furrowed his brow, forcing his eyes to shut as he took a deep breath that shook his entire body. His right hand was so focused on his left, absolutely refusing to let it go. Finally something compelled him, and he put his trembling hand back on the conducing wand he had released when the memories came back to him.

The entire room was silent. Even the sick girl, who hadn't stopped coughing since she set foot in the orchestral room, refused to make a sound. They were waiting. They weren't sure what exactly for, but they knew they had to wait, for however long, the just needed to wait.

He picked up the wand again, waved it, and the room filled with noise. The hitting of bows on strings. The tuning of A flats to A naturals. The resonance of a broken man replaced by the cacophony of an eager symphony.

Like a wizard preforming a spell, the man waved his wand and instead of noise, or silence, there was beauty. The sounds of cellos and basses and violins filled the once dismal room. Everyone was stuck in the moment. The only thing keeping movement in existence was the music. Music is the stuff that moves you.

Suddenly the snow-haired man yielded to a force greater than the music. The wand fell to the floor,  and silence filled the room again. Something within him wasn't there anymore and the room kept waiting.

Tears began to trickle down the man's face, getting caught in the lines that represented the years they were together. The creases from laughing too hard at nothing and the wrinkles from a shared history that brought the cruelest mixture of joy and pain. A mixture that he would not have changed for the world.

The room sat still. The man who thought he had better places to be sat still. The woman who always had something important to say sat still. The room sat still.

Stillness enveloped everything. Breath was on hold. Blinking was on hold. Living, for a moment, was on hold.

His heart was breaking. Over and over again. Every thought he had, his heart was breaking. Every blink, was another image of her. Every breath was another breathe that was mocking her. Every laugh was another laugh without her.

The man grabbed his left hand once more and the music started up again. This time, no wand was forcing the room to play. This time, the man smiled while he remembered, because the music was the stuff that moved them.

Music times. It's fine I swear!

I'm obsessed with a new song. I'm not trying to bail out of writing a blog post, but sometimes some things are more importan than what I have to say.

"Jeannie nothing is more important than what you have to say"

I know Mr. Perfect-Guy-That-Loves-Jeannie-And-Exists-Other-Than-When-He-Speaks-On-My-Blog
(sense is being made, I promise)

*stares deep into your soul trying to compel you*
Listen to this music. NOW.

Tomorrow I have a real blog thing. Like a real real blog post. With a story. Not my own story. But a story. So sit tight!

It's too late for this.

This weekend has been one for the books. The history books. The science books. The children's books...okay maybe not the children's books. But it's been a memorable one for sure.

I can't really go into details, because that would be sharing secrets that aren't necessarily mine to share.

All I know is college is college. And college has so much more in store for everyone involved in it. I can't wait to see.

I saw Twilight the first night. It was not great. Not great at all. Entertaining is some ways, but not great.
Lots of decapitated vampires. So that was fun.

Then I saw Pitch Perfect tonight. BRILLIANCE.

I will probably see it again tomorrow. Then the next day. Then the next. Until I can quote every single line from it that you will never want to be in my presence ever.

EVER. You hear me?!

Internal Battle *punch* *kick*

You know things have gotten to a pretty strange spot if the most trying decision in my life right now is whether I should see the new Twilight tonight, or Pitch Perfect.

That's my most heated internal debate as of this present time. I'm wracking my brain.

Other than that. Nothing.

I was looking at my phone while I was trying to walk into the computer lab. I guess I must have overestimated where the door was at and so therefore I ran straight into the glass wall.

I felt like one of those birds they use in Windex advertisements.

*trying to focus* look a bird!

I'm getting far too distracted.

I have to write an annotated bibliography for my English 1010 class. On four different sources. And it's due tomorrow at an early time (7:30 am in the morning...tis worst). That's not that bad ya know? I already have more than 3 done, well like 3 and a half. But it's the worst thing that I've written since the time I described history as "very historical".

I'm getting distracted with a few things. Or with everything. Take your pick.
Not really any sort of internet things.

I'm not going on facebook, tumblr, yahoo, porn sites, I'm just not doing that!

Instead. I saw a fly and watched it around the room. It landed on a window for a little bit. And for some reason that didn't stop me from looking at it.

Also what's really fun to do is put your headphones on and then not actually play any music. It's quite fun. People talk and they don't think you can hear. Not that their telling secrets, it's just pretty interesting.

Earlier today I painted one hand. Just one. My left hand. And for the past half hour I have just peeled it all off. Not doing my homework. Nope. Just peeled it off. Like a band-aid, or a banana peel or something along those lines.

Man I should get back to work. I mean, I still have some finger nail polish left on my hand.

That Putty saved my life!

My friend is sitting here. Right next to me. Rubbing in the fact that she has silly putty and I don't. K look. There are a few things in this world I can't stand. Most of them involve people who swallow drinks really loudly (Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie), don't turn on their blinker while switching lanes. But I am bugged the most by people sitting next to me rubbing in the fact that I don't have silly putty!

I get it okay?! You're sitting over there, having fun, rolling your putty into a ball, and laughing all the while. Maybe even flattening it out and writing your name it in. Okay. You want me to say it? I'll say it.

I'M JEALOUS.

When I was 5 years old I had a fever that was unlike any fever seen before. Or it was a lot like most other fevers seen before, only this was a bit more feverish (in other words, it was a high fever)

My ma rushed me to the emergency room in our old-school Honda that didn't even have an airbag...which was the best because then I could sit in the front even though I was 5 years old...we sat in the waiting room for hours on end. I ate a 3-musketeer candy-bar. I then realized how much I hated 3-musketeer candy bars.

Seriously though. Out of all the candy bars in the vending machine I could have chosen, I chose the one that tastes like brimstone and Hobbit feet. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but during Halloween those damn candy bars are the only ones left in the bucket. Parents have to love them because that's all they have left to eat after all the little Halloween slash candy loving mongrels come and clean them out of all the other decent style candies.

TANGENT. Okay back to the story.

We finally got a room. Like my own room. Not one of those hallway beds where everyone can see what's going on in your world. If you cry, they know. If you laugh, the know! If you fart, THEY KNOW. No privacy people. None.

But I didn't have that! Nope. I was safe and secure. To fart on my own time if I so chose. I slept a lot. And my ma worried a lot. Eventually the doctor came in and said there was a possibilty that I had something called Spinal Meningitis.

For all those that don't know, that's practically when your spine decides to just up and leave the place it's suppose to be and push right up into your brain. Then all that can come of it is death. Or unhappiness. But in all honesty, to a five-year-old, all I heard was

"Jeannie. We think you have something called Merblahblahmermer."
"Coooooool"

As a result  I had to get a lumbar puncture. That's when a needle the size of a baby tree trunk gets shoved into your spine. Oh! Did I mention it's as hollow as Voldemort's heart? (was that a good analogy? Geez I hope so)

My mama told me I had to be a brave girl. Why? Well I didn't know. All I know is that my mom said if I was brave girl, then she would get me any sort of present. Anything in the land. Whatever I wanted was mine!

So what did I ask for?

Silly Putty.

The next day. After this needle of doom entered my body, I was as happy as that weird kid. (ya...that's the end of that metaphor)

Silly Putty is what I want most in this world. Always has be. Always will.

(Just a heads up for any future events where you may need to get me a present)

You're A Moving Target, Kid

And I always have been apparently.

I've never been diagnosed as any sort of ADD or ADHD, but there's always been the signs. I can't stop moving, ya know, ever. Also testing and those things are hard. There are other things so if you've met me, you may catch on.
I have trouble focusing for long amounts of ti....Man am I hungry. I went to the store earlier today to get some food and * dramatic pause* Okay so that was a bit forced, but that's what I mean.

I wanted to get tested again before I came up to be a big 'ol college kid, because I was nervous it was going to hurt me grade wise and all other types of wise, but I didn't ever do it. So who knows! Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just a dinosaur-acting, leaf jumping, sane person. Who knew?

When I was in 3rd grade I went to this therapist to get tested for this exact, and other, types of attention disorders. Her name was Dorthy and all I could think about the entire time was Wizard of Oz, what a great start to the theraputing ammiright?

I don't remember much of it. I just remember we played some awesome games, but I think she let me win most of them. I did this computer thing. We talked all deep like. My mom took me to Chili's. And that was that. All is done. EVERYTHING DONE. Don't you get it?! Just leave! It's over!

I'm sorry fans. I'm little on edge right now. Sleep deprivation. It's a thing. It's a real life thing. Real live thing?

kjaincioea;jdf9910p394823afja;l (Jeannie Falling asleep on her laptop)
*wakes up with a snort*
I'M SORRY.

After my adventures with the therapist, I just went on living my 3rd grade life. I'm actually pretty positive I had no idea why I had to see her. I was just excited I got to miss school for an entire day and eat a whole wrack of ribs for lunch (I was a really chubby small kid...)

Turns out that I was diagnosed with...well. The doctor didn't actually know. The doctor told my mother that she couldn't figure me out. She told my mother that I was a moving target.

She couldn't figure out my learning style or even what was going on in my mind. Hell. I don't even know what's going on in this here mind *points to head then gets finger stuck in hair and doesn't know what to do*

I was out of her sights. ME. Jeannie Marie Woller stumped a professional, Ph.D holding, red-sparkling-shoes clicking, "how-does-that-make-you-feel" talking therapist.

However, what she did figure out was that I have, or at least I did then, an over-active imagination...which is what probably led to all my night time hard-ships in past Jeannie's near future, and present Jeannie's distant past.

Also, I was told that, and if you look real hard maybe you'll be able to see this in me. (Look REALLY hard. Like. Past my epidermis and bones, and organs, and practically out the other side of my skin and maybe, just maybe you'll see it..........or just look at me once and you will. Who knows), was that I really learn the best while I'm moving.
Always moving. Like a moving target or something. So if you see me pacing, or bouncing my legs up and down, or twisting my chair, or even flying in the sky like some sort of flying-sky woman, just remember. I'M LEARNING. Always learning.

You're a moving target, kid.
And there's nothing to be ashamed of.