29 February 2012

Can You Really Save Up Time? Really?

Leap Day. It's magical. That one special day every four years that makes the continued use of our calender system possible. Thank you, Leap Day, for all the kindness you do us in keeping our months and seasons all lined up the way we're used to. Disaster is averted, for the time being.

If you really think about it, Leap Day is funny. Time and the way we measure it is artificially constructed anyway, and Leap Day is a poignant reminder of that fact. Because, hey, apparently we need an extra day every four years, or the world as we know it will fall apart. No big deal. Whatever.

The professor in my early class is a very funny, very awesome woman. She freakin' rocks. She's tied for the position of favorite-professor-of-the-semester with my Hebrew professor. Anyway, she informed us all at 8 AM this morning that Leap Day is her favorite holiday. Apparently today after she's finished teaching she's going to go home and make Leap Day cupcakes and put together a Leap Day mix-tape for her friends (which begs the question, what does one include on a Leap Day mix-tape?).

I want to make Leap Day cupcakes. But I can't. Because I still don't have a muffin pan. :(
Cupcakes are way better than real cake. They come in a cup. How cool is that? And muffins. I like muffins a lot. Why haven't I seen how pressing this issue is before now? I need a muffin pan, and that's final. I will have to do something about this soon, I guess.

I just found out that there's an Irish tradition that says that women can propose to their men on Leap Day. I hold that women can (and should) propose on any day of the year, but I guess that's cool. The Irish have many cool traditions, and I wish I could claim some of them. But, alas, I am not Irish. Actually, I don't really want to be Irish. I'm happy with my Scottish heritage. We have bagpipes and William Wallace. We win.

Stay on topic, Schaffer.

I have no more to say about Leap Day.

But in the spirit of it being Wednesday . . . have a song. A free song. Lucky you.

Jem - '24'

 

Love always,
Ashley


22 February 2012

Must. Remember. To breathe. (!)

My brain can't decide if it's overwhelmed or under-stimulated. There's this big mass of confusion going on up somewhere in there, and I don't really know what it's about. I wish it would work itself out, though, because it's really starting to bug me. It's messing with my sleep. That makes me angry. I don't think being angry with my brain is a very healthy attitude to have.

I'm not ruling out the possibility that I'm suffering from several little-known forms of psychosis. Maybe someday 100 years from now some psycho-babbler will look back at my life and all my writings and so on and 'diagnose' me with someodd. That would be funny. I will look down at the psycho-babbler and laugh. Ha. Ha. He. He. And he'll be all, like, 'What is that ghostly laughing noise?' Yeah. I'm going to haunt any psycho-babbler who takes a swing at me. That'll teach 'em. I'm scary.

It's almost ridiculous how much of my youtube time is spent conscientiously avoiding cheesy love songs. I hate cheesy love songs. They're all, like, 'Oooooh, I loooooove yoooooou!' and I'm, like, 'Gooooooo jump ooooooff a cliiiiiiiif. Please. Now.' There are people who write real love songs, and those I like. The Goo Goo Dolls, Queen, the Beatles, basically anyone who was at Woodstock, Better than Ezra, Sting, Coldplay, Johnny Cash, Journey, Metallica . . . and so on. Yeah. Good. Real. Yay! Savage Garden, Justin Timberlake, *NSYNC (I realize nobody listens to them anymore. Except me, it seems.), Parachute, all the whiny bands who make endless songs that all sound the same, half the crap that's played at every. single. wedding. ever,  Katy Perry . . . ew. Not real. Bad. Very bad. Grr. Basically, if you're going to listen to love songs, you should only listen to real ones. Because the other ones are just sad.

Next time I'll have something more to say than just stream-of-consciousness rambling.

Love always,
Ashley

08 February 2012

You Want Disjointed? I'll Get You There

I'm on an extremely bizarre schedule lately, that involves setting my alarm clock for 2 AM. Who does that kind of thing? I do, apparently. I actually kind of like it, too. Except that it's killing my night life. Who am I kidding, I don't have a night life. So I go to bed really early and get up at 2 AM. Whatever.

Except the past couple days I haven't been going to bed especially early. I don't have time to eat real meals or make my bed or do my laundry (which desperately, desperately needs to be done ASAP), so I certainly don't have time to sleep properly. But somehow I am at my most productive when short on sleep, so it's working out. Somewhat. Things should be easing up slightly after today.

I swear, this is why I'm getting through college this young. At the rate I'm driving my body and my brain, I'm not going to be capable of doing this in five/seven/ten years. (So, I think, that should be the perfect time to settle down with a stable career and have a whole bunch of babies, no? Hm.)

Somebody totally thought I was twenty-eight the other day. That was interesting, and I don't quite know what to say about it. Twenty-one to twenty-five I'm used to, but I've never gotten twenty-eight before.

So I was at this job fair yesterday. It was really crowded, so I didn't stay long because I don't like really crowded places. But two things were notable. I spent ten minutes talking politics with an investment broker, because, ha, apparently I'm an adult now and as a junior in political science my opinions are actually, like, cool. Weird. And the Army Reserve recruiters gave me a very awesome lanyard. In fact--if I were a person who based my life choices on the lanyards I was given, I would totally be enlisting right this very minute. I'm not that type of person, so I don't have enough reason to justify that at the moment, but seriously: Coolest. Lanyard. Ever.

In between my early (and I mean early) morning homework-doing and the presentation I had in my 8 AM class, I did a little private happy dance about Prop 8 being deemed unconstitutional. That was cool. Hurray 9th Circuit Court! (I doubt I'll remain pleased with them for long, but today they're alright in my book.)

And I should totally be writing a paper right now for my journalism class:
"Write a brief paper on a person whom you would like to interview, and why, as well as a description of the strategy you would use in the interview; particularly how you would get them to talk about what you want them to talk about."
It's due at noon, and I have a class in forty minutes that will last until then. So I should probably go and do that now.

Bye.

Love always,
Ashley

Oh, P.S. --> This article is interesting.

Update @ 10:21 AM: I wonder how brief is too brief. I hate it when professors don't give me a page/word guide. I've said everything I feel inclined to say, and it only took up 253 words. Maybe I'll get bonus points for brevity.