Random incoherent sentences

Greetings fine friends and fellow naval men.

I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last update. I’ve been in bed with the prosecution. And we didn’t just lie there, if that’s what you’re thinking. But no, to form a sentence without quoting Arrested Development… what HAVE I been doing? Well not much, I guess. There were a few things I wanted to blog about, but I just didn’t, you know how it is. I can’t believe I have this much homework to do two weeks before I graduate. Sheesh. I can’t believe I’m GRADUATING in two weeks. I don’t know what to do with my life. I have no plan. I want something I can feel passionate about and love doing even when it gets boring, but I don’t have it yet. I don’t know where and how to find it. I need guidance. I need the Hand of God, to show me the way – but not to a nunnery, please. I cannot make these decisions by myself.

So what was I going to blog about? Besides graduating at the tender age of 18-going-on-19 with absolutely no idea what to do with the rest of my life?

First, I went Swimming While Hairy last week. I remember thinking whilst doing it, “I will make of this a blog post, and I will title it Swimming While Hairy.” But now the enthusiasm has leaked from the idea, leaving a somewhat-deflated water balloon. The jist was, I went down to that water marshy nature area on the far side of the IMA last Monday and wandered around getting really hot. Sticky and sweaty, I wanted to go swimming, but I was all hairy, under the arms and on the legs. I also had no swimsuit. But nonetheless… I went, got one of the IMA’s renter suits with, thankfully, the 50’s-style skirty things (who knows, maybe they are from the 50s) and swum laps. But first, I lost my towel and key that they give you, and while I was looking for them I slammed my finger into the bathroom door, so my finger was painful and bleeding, I was hairy, I had lost IMA property, I could not get into my locker, and I was hot and sticky. I did get another key and go swimming anyway though. I went into the slow lane, and I felt really out of shape – my stamina was OK, but I just wish I could have gone faster. Anyway, I don’t THINK I got any funny looks, but my eyes were pretty red – bloodshot from swimming with contacts, as well. I need goggles. At the end of this epic adventure, wandering around hairy in the locker room, I met no less than three people I knew. Eek.

Anyhoo, all the entertainment value of that tale has been sucked out in the intervening couple of weeks, leaving an empty shell of facts. I’m sorry. What else was there?

Relay for Life. This Saturday, I participated in Relay for Life, a charity event supporting the American Cancer Society. I was on the team captained by the girl I took skiing lessons with. I stupidly, S-T-U-P-I-D-L-Y, promised brownies to everyone who donated through me, by the way. I know they’re all friends of my parents and don’t care, but I feel really stupid having promised brownies and not given them out. So on Saturday, I got to Husky Stadium at 2 – I think it was the first time I’ve been inside. The “sacred ground” of the football field was covered in tents and a stage and stuff. And I was there without leaving until 8 the next morning. Through it all – and it was freezing in the middle of the night – someone from each team had to be walking around the track. There was a talent show, complete with a fat Asian guy who sung badly. But here’s the thing – I don’t think he was joking. It was weird. The announcer actually asked him about William Hung, and the guy was just like, “Oh I’m better than him.” I think he was joking partially, but not much. And then everyone loved him and wanted to be his friend. Here I am thinking the key to popularity is this and that, and all the time it was being completely uninhibited and dorky and making a fool of yourself in front of a large audience. I can do that. But maybe not the uninhibited part. Although, at 3.30 AM, after endless rounds of the disgusting sounding energy drink Rock Star Pong (ewww), there was a Middle School Dance, featuring all the old favorites –Backstreet Boys (whom I think I once really liked), NSYNC, Britney, that one song that went “Say it ain’t so, I will not go, Turn the lights off, Carry me Home,” Savage Garden – it was crazy. And I did dance to the oldies. They even did a snowball, where all the girls went to one side and the guys to another and you had to cross over and pick a partner. I can get nostalgic for anything, even the 90s.

Other things at Relay… they had speed dating, which I should have done given I need a boyfriend, but I chickened out. They had Nike shoes with built-in iPod players and workout counters, which I tried out, they were very comfortable – most comfortable sneakers I’ve ever worn. I want them. They also had two comedy improv groups, two bands, and a Luminaria ceremony at 10. They turned off the lights in the stadium and a bagpiper led everyone around the track, which had been lined with paper bags with lights in them decorated by people and personalized with the names of cancer victims and survivors. The survivors wore purple T-shirts, and some of them were students. It was weird because I assumed they would all be middle aged. But there were a few young ones there. It was quite moving. On a different note, we – Readers and I – should go see some comedy, like Jet City Improv! It would be something to do at night, and improv is often more fun and less awkward than stand-up?

So at 8 the next morning, I had gotten absolutely no sleep. And I was very tired and a bit cranky. But I had to go home to make my mom dinner for Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, all the recipes were from one cookbook that I’d never used before, and nothing was that great. It wasn’t bad – they looked and tasted fine – but they weren’t delicious or that flavorful. I know you’re supposed to add to the recipes, but if you have to do that, what’s the point in buying the cookbook – or, at least, sitting in Barnes and Noble illegally copying from the cookbook onto your laptop? Geeeeeez.

Speaking of sitting in Barnes and Noble, I was the other day, studying, and this old man is CONTINUALLY bothering me, talking about mysticism. (He saw that I was studying Hebrew, and somehow divined that I would be interested in weird people who see creepy patterns everywhere). He samples all the world’s religions, and kept saying that this book or movie would “change my life,” just like Natalie says to Zack in Garden State, a movie I dislike. He would go back to his laptop than after five minutes or so when I’d started to concentrate fully again he’d look up with no warning and just START TALKING again. Gah! But finally, he left. I just nodded politely because I didn’t really want to tell an old man to shut up.

Today, I gave a practice presentation for Friday. It went ok I guess, but the other practicers were sciencey people – oceanography, neuroscience, and biology – so I felt totally inferior. I am actually really interested in neuroscience, psychology and all that stuff. I love reading about questions like: “are teenagers brains really different” and stuff about how men and women behave differently and why do we love to gossip and all of those things. Maybe I should take some psychology classes. Anyhoo, the neuroscience guy was DISHY. No other word for it. He was a dish. I wanted to eat him. Oh, I hate and love hormones. But I was drooling as he talked about inserting needles into rats. Plus, he was intelligent, nice, and kept talking about how his mother was in town for mother’s day and he had to spend time with her. I wish there was a little card you could give people saying “Excuse me, we will likely never see each other again, and there is no cause for us to interact beyond small talk at this educational event. Nonetheless, I find you very attractive and would like to speak further. Here is my number.” I supposed if I was a different kind of person, I could find some way of doing that, but good GRIEF. OH! I just had an idea… I can facebook stalk him. Woot. Will do.

Also, I lost my cellphone, but you know about that. And tonight I went to someone’s 21st birthday party at Flowers bar on the Ave, and did not drink. Because I have no fake id. I have a feeling possibly Charlotte could hook me up with one of those?

Over and out.