Being the ignoramus that I am, I was blissfully unaware that it had begun. So, I smelled something cooking downstairs, after I got out of the shower. I went to check it out. That was my first mistake. We all know Dear Auntie isn't really much of a cook. Anyways, the tiny TV in the kitchen was turned on, and I didn't notice to what it was tuned until it was too late. Politics. Damn. But, I might as well try stomaching what she's made, right? So I sampled some of that, and managed to keep my mouth closed. It left a bad taste, though, so I got some leftover Chinese out of the fridge—as my uncle had just done—and went about fixing it up, zapping it, you know... Before my uncle or I could escape the room, dear Aunt Bev started in with her railing about McCain and Obama, and I began to remember all the reasons I hate politics, along with the people who froth at the mouth over them.
My food was ready–I could have just left the room. I didn't have to say anything. I mean, really, I think both senators are dishonest jerks who don't sincerely give two shits about the liberties and rights of individual citizens. The public of this country is full of idiots, though, and those two asinine bastards know it. Still, does that justify needlessly provoking someone I was earlier planning to ask a boon of? I suppose it was partly because my aunt's points weren't wholly invalid, and that irked me. I don't like being spoken to in an angry tone, with words that are half enlightening and half stupid, unless I've done something to deserve it. Finally, I just muttered that I hated politics, and left the room chanting, "I take it back, I take it back!" And I do. This country is like an 11 year old boy with a bunch of level 70s, on a moderator account. It doesn't really matter what you think of him, because, even though he's a complete idiot, he has a massive guild, and he ownz your ass.
My hair is falling out a lot more rapidly this time, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I really don't want to go back to the little comb-over I had going for the area around my mini cowlick. The skin on my hands started to show those little tears that look like a rash during drilling ceremony reviews we were doing outside, in JROTC. There are a couple of other side-effects that I find too embarrassing to mention, but I know how to remedy at least one of those. At first, there was a discernible change in my moods, and the muscles of my lower back knotted up like I'd taken a good spinal beating with a cinder block. I'm still a bit irritable, but that's both manageable and likely due in equal part to a conglomeration of other factors, such as my poor sleeping habits, diet, exercise, and I've never been a big fan of the screechy TAG underclassmen who just always seem to be a few feet closer than I want them to be. The damage those little brats have done over the past year—and seem content to continue doing—to my eardrums can never be undone. I don't want to be subjected to their twittering squeals about hamsters and their connection to Sasquatch. Alas, I digress...
I give you my responses to the survey project I had to do for my psychology class. I must say, after how long it took me to finish, I feel a bit guilty for asking anyone else to do so, (though, I tend to answer everything like an essay question). So, I'm sorry for that.
I just wanted to say thank you to the people who sent me answers for my psychology survey-thing. It was very helpful, and I appreciate it.
Yeah, I went in the bathroom and cut most of it off. I haven't dried it, so I don't know yet if I did a good job. Pictures to come, even if I look like Joan of Ark from The Messanger---as I did last time I cut my own hair---, once I've recovered my camera from Will's desk.
[EDIT: I've decided I'm too lazy to make it up. So... here it is again. This time for serious, yeah?]
I've been given the task of interviewing people about their views on realtionships and marriage. I need a few people, ranging from the ages 1.) 22-30, and 2.) 40-up, to answer the following questions, which I've taken from the examples, studies I found online, and a couple I threw in there myself---so, forgive me if they are ordered strangely---. They are mostly geared toward heterosexuals, but that just reflects the bias of Ms. Mays, and society at large. Anyone is welcome to take part in this survey/interview-thing---unless they are under 22 or between 30 and 39 years of age---. I need responses as soon as possible; nothing submitted after the 20th is likely to be included in the study. They can be anonymous, provided age and gender are given. All subjects will be given test aliases, anyway. I'd really appreciate if you could mention, or link this to people who might be willing to participate. The more people I have, the better. You can post your answers here, or e-mail them to me at eryn.scott@gmail.com. Please title e-mails something along the lines of, "Psychology Questions".
I spent hours listening to their songs (albeit among those of various other artists you like); how have I not been properly introduced? Just the other day, amongst the clutter of your desk, I saw that little list I made, oh-so-seemingly-long-ago. Anyways, if you want me to form a more positive association with your precious NIN, you'll either have to forcefully apply a tire iron to my head, or do something ridiculously endearing while their songs are vomiting in the background.
As for Death Cab, it is among the tastes I've acquired from you--like Thai food and politics... though, I still don't love politics. It's like watching temperamental children play Hungry Hungry Hippos. So, then, the voters are, (of course), the little balls the gluttonous hippos must consume, so that the child controlling their jaws can gather the most, and win the game. Not exactly a sport crowds flock to, am I right? But, if someone you respect, and enjoy listening to, points out the strengths and weakness of each child, and those of their respective hippo(s), it develops into a discordant science that just becomes impossible to ignore...
not willing to sit around that long and listen to instrumental.
two Beatles songs, and NIN's Trent Reznor won't sound so 'ignorably' (if you will...) monotone.
this, but... to any Beatles fans, please note: I have said nothing that can, reasonably, be considered
[to be] in direct derision of all their other works. Forgive me, for my parent led me astray with 90s rock,
such artists as Bob Marley, The Gypsy Kings, Santana, Disturbed, and Nickelback, and by indulging
my sister's initial interest in whatever popular culture malarkey was playing on 104.1 KRBE (Houston
station--not even sure if it's still around) during my formative years.
P.P.P.S. To the NIN fans... just what you find attractive about a lead singer who can't sing, I'll never
know. (>X3)
I've started taking what's left of my Sotret, which I didn't finish because the dermatologist said I didn't need to come back anymore--I was through.
I had a multi-paragraph elaboration, but I decided it was more a personal journal than a blog. So... yep.
I don't feel inclined to paint a picture of who I think I am, or who I want others to believe I am. If you choose to do either, anyone worth associating with will, ultimately, realize one of the following: you're a liar, you're delusional, or you're a delusional liar. I believe everyone lives in their own versions of reality, because they are experiencing life from their own, individually unique perspectives, obviously. At the same time, we need to observe, inquire, and discuss how our personal realities relate to each other's, in order to find common ground and thus reinforce our definitions of reality. It would be pointless of me to sit here and tell you who I am in your reality, especially given that perceptions and people are both constantly evolving. Anything I believe to be true about myself may contradict what you already believe, because at least one of those factors (perception and the person being perceived) has undergone change without consulting the other. On the same note, any description of who I think I am today will probably contradict who I claim to be tomorrow ---I am approaching this time-line in a metaphorical sense, as I am probably still going to think I am God's (wasted) gift to English and Philosophy when I wake up tomorrow---.
OK, so I've spent the past few hours tinkering with this thing, and I'm satisfied. Now what? What do I put up here? It can't be anything personal, obviously --no innermost thoughts; I change my mind about such things far too often to want anyone reading about them. No one wants to hear the petty complaints someone else has against their daily lives, not when they have their own, so that's out. I find comfort in being a creature of habit, so it's not like I've got anything distinguishing to relay about my day-to-day, for the most part. The idea of creating records of my actions for others to freely access makes me a little nervous. I've made such a point of avoiding pop culture that I have no aptitude for discussing that. I spend a substantial amount of time thinking about people, but I can't really talk about that, either, since it would obviously include those who have access to this blog. What's left? I suppose I could just make things up...
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