Monday, September 10, 2012

Suicide Prevention Month

Jeff, Matt & Dave. Circa 2004/2005?

On Friday it will have been five years since my friend Matt’s passing. He was a good friend, who was honest and straightforward and caring. I loved him very much.  The anniversary of his death makes me remember things, makes me miss him and makes me think of what I could of done. I get angry with myself for loosing touch with him and letting so much time pass between us. We were both guilty of it though, so I can’t totally blame myself. We drifted apart; friends do that all the time for different reasons. But, my heart still breaks every year at this time. I try not to dwell on it, but I do anyway. I flash back to his funeral, his girlfriends sobs, sitting between Tamra and Crystal and them holding my hands while I cried. Sitting behind Dave, Jeff and Nate watching them comfort each other. Being angry at him for doing this to all of us, and being afraid of my own demons that had pushed me so close to that same point. There have been times lately that I wish I could call him up and ask his advice. He’d give it to me straight and tell me the truth but he’d cheer me up in the process. I know he’s watching over me, wherever he is. It makes me laugh because he would hate me talking about him like he was a saint or something, and he’d give me a hard time about having his initials tattooed on my wrist too. Telling me I was ridiculous. I miss him all the time. Awhile back I wrote this.

It's ironic to me that his birthday, his death and Suicide Awareness Month all fall in September. I know my blog doesn't reach many but please spread the word. If you are in crisis or know someone who is SPEAK OUT. Tell someone, talk to that person. Suicide is 100% preventable if people reach out . Call or get in touch with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Monday, June 18, 2012

Just a Marching Ant.

It's summertime which for me means seeing my favorite group of men. Almost every summer(excluding last year) these guys take to the road to fill our hearts with joy and wonder. In my group of friends I can just say one name and they know exactly who and what I'm talking about. I'm a junkie, fan girl, groupie whatever you want to call if for Dave. Dave Matthews to be exact and his band or DMB.  I have been a fan for 6 years now and have been to 8 different shows. Now to those who don't know or don't understand  you would think that is a lot. Trust me it is not. DMB is the closest thing to a religion that I have, and I'm still an amateur. Eight shows is NOTHING. The best way I can describe it is like the following that Jimmy Buffet has, but with a no Hawaiian shirts or parrots, but the fans are just as die hard. I understand this music is not for everyone, to me it's a mix of rock, funk and blues all balled up into a fab package of joy!
I could spend all day talking about how great they are and how inspiring their music is, but seeing a live show is really the only way to understand the experience. I liked DMB before, but I fell in love with them at my first live show and every show since. People who aren't fans tend to not understand why I want to see more than one show a year. I was talking to someone about going to see them in a few weeks in Pittsburgh at Star Lake(yes, I know it's called First Niagara but I don't care, it will always be Star Lake to me) and they were all, 'didn't you just see them?' Yes I did, but no two shows are ever alike. A Dave show isn't like a normal band or artist's tour. There are no dancers, or backup singers, or costume changes. It's the band playing from their insanely large catalog of songs, sometimes there's an cool cover,sometimes there's new stuff, and sometimes they will come take a classic and turn it into a 10 min jam. Every show is different and interesting and fun. It's almost clique at this point to say go to a show and you'll change your mind but it's the truth. I'm taking my friend Jodi in a few weeks to her first show, I bribed her with tailgating and a good time, but I think in the end she'll like it, and maybe even love it.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Fracking Facebook

This isn't a real post, this is just me ranting so I don't go randomly delete some dickweeds off of Facebook. Things that people do on FB that annoy me.

1. 9,840,494 self fucking portraits. I don't need to see your mug show up on my feed that many fucking time in one day. Oh and if you do duck lips and a peace sign again I'm gonna drag you by your badly dyed hair and beat some sense into you.

2. People that bitch about drama... Umm posting it on facebook is being fucking DRAMATIC dumbass.

3. Quit sending me Bubble Blast requests I'm not going to play. Me IGNORING you 20 times should give you the hint.

4. Cryptic fucking status updates... either say it or shut the fuck up.

5. Repeated and asinine updates discussing your political beliefs. You're a republican and you sound like an idiot.

6. Constant religious quotes or attempts to make other people think you are all holy and shit.  Cause you're not, unless you've got on some holey jeans.

Ok I'm done bitching, now tell me what pisses you off on facebook!

Friday, June 1, 2012

Dear Apartment 6....

I live in a 12 unit 3 story apartment building and I detest the girls the live across from me.  This is a letter I want to send them when I finally move.Or Maybe its making me feel better just to vent... either or... here ya go.

Dear Apartment 6,

I have finally moved and am now free from the worst neighbors I’ve ever had. Bet you can’t guess who that is! (In case you don’t understand sarcasm, that’s you two) Now that I am free of you and far away I can give you a few tips.  

First, read your lease. ALL OF IT. I’m almost positive we have the same lease. It states everything very clearly. For Example, not moving in or our after 9 pm and being peaceful to your neighbors. Most of the following wouldn’t have been a problem had you read your lease and abide by it. Or maybe you did read it and think that you are above it and the rules don’t apply to you and you can do whatever you want. Well you aren’t any better than the rest of us.

Learn the difference between an outside voice and an indoor voice. When I can sit in my apartment with my TV on and can hear your conversations about your old roommate from Malone or whatever else you are talking to loud. Maybe whomever you are speaking to is hard of hearing, that’s fine, maybe you should get closer to them so I don’t have to hear your entire conversation.

The above tip also goes for the stairways. I don’t really care if something strange is going on at Red Lobster or whatever shitty job you work. Once again, if whomever you are speaking to is hard of hearing maybe you should wait until you are inside as to not disturb neighbors.

Just because you want a dog doesn’t mean the rest of us have to suffer.  I am not the only person in the building that complained. The lady that lives below you, who by the way is a sex offender, bitched as well. No one wants to hear a dog bark for hours on end. It’s rude to your neighbors and cruel to the animal. Leaving a special needs dog in a cage for hours on end is inhumane and made me sick, you were selfish for having a dog in a tiny one-bedroom apartment.  Oh and telling me I’m not a dog person was ignorant, I grew up on a farm with plenty of animals, especially dogs and the only reason I don’t have a dog now is because dogs need room and a tiny ass one bedroom apartment doesn’t cut it, and I would love my dog to much to do something so shitty to it. You having to get rid of the dog was not my fault, it was yours. You made a bad choice and to deal with the consequences, don’t blame me for your mistake.

You park like lazy idiots. Get off your ass and move your car. I’m sure your parents treated you like princesses but you are sort of grown up now so follow the rules like the rest of us and only use one spot. Parking half way behind each other but enough so you take up two spaces so you can shimmy your car out and around is, once again, selfish.  And YES one of you almost hit my car because I WATCHED you almost do it, your dopey boyfriend looked up and saw me watching your dumbass try to maneuver out.

I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice. Living on your own, having a job, and going to college and working do not make you an adult. Your behavior is what makes you an adult, and from what I’ve witnessed and dealt with you’ve got a lot of growing up to do.  All I’ve seen from you is childishness (coming up the stairs calling me a fucking bitch like you are 14 years old, talking shit in your apartment so I can hear you), selfishness (adopting a pet you are unable to properly care for), and disrespectful (being loud in the stairwells, parking, etc.). Grow up; the world doesn’t revolve around you.
I’m sure the two of you talk shit about me all the time, she’s fat, she never has people over, she doesn’t have a boy friend, and she’s a bitch. Yep all those things are true, I’m fat, I work a full time office job where I bust my ass all day and then go to school all night and then study my ass off in my free time when I’m not having to listen to incessant dog barking and rude little girl neighbors. So talk all the shit you want about me, but at least I'm not shitty neighbor.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Inner Struggle

 This is a paper I wrote for my college writing class in April.

Everyone I know sometimes feels sad or down or just not themselves. We all have days where we don’t feel great about ourselves or something didn’t turn out the way we had hoped. I have those kinds of days just like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, my sadness doesn’t go away after a day or two or even a week or two, mine has been with me most of my life. I remember the first time I realized how dangerous depression is for me, I was fourteen and lying in the emergency room with my eyes shut tight, sobbing, listening to the doctors and nurses telling me to try to relax as they told me everything I had eaten that day. They were pumping my stomach to keep the handful of anti-depressants I swallowed from getting into my system and stopping my heart. People around me kept throwing around words like suicide attempt and physiological observation and short- term committal. For the next five days I learned what real serious depression looked like and I saw what it did to people my age. I wish I could say my experience as a teenager made it so depression never reared its ugly head in my life again but I can’t. I struggle every day with keeping it at bay.
My childhood, as a whole, was pretty great. I got to do and see things as a child that some adults have never done, but it was scarred by things that even all the good things can’t over shadow. My parents divorced when I was about four or five and we moved away from my dad and his family which I realize now, fractured my
relationship with my father. Even now we struggle to communicate as adults, we both try but it’s work. Missing that most important male relationship in my life has caused me problems with romantic relationships as an adult.
My mom and I were on our own in an area where she didn’t know a lot of people, and was trying to raise me and work full time. She had met a nice couple who she thought she could trust and allowed them to watch me while she worked at night. I only remember bits and pieces but I can remember enough to know what went on was inappropriate and sexual in nature. Sometimes I wonder if the suppression of those memories and never fully dealing with that trauma was where my struggle with depression began.
These and other incidents from my childhood, I feel, have laid the groundwork for my depression and anxiety. My experiences as an adult have also added to my daily struggle, whether it be lack of confidence and low self esteem due to past failures and body image or my lack of trust for people in my life. I battle with my own self-doubt on daily basis.  I crave attention, praise and acceptance from others almost desperately. Sometimes I even base my own self worth on how I think others see me.
For someone that doesn’t suffer with depression a break up or an everyday failure are small obstacles for them to overcome, for me they are Mount Everest, and I have to navigate to the other side with no Sherpa and a broken compass, in a blizzard.  Like some, I go through the normal stages of grief during a loss or disappointment, but sometimes I tend to lean towards the extreme side of
emotions.  Secluding myself from others, sleeping too much, eating too much and overthinking myself into a deeper depression.  I also have a way of lashing out and misdirecting my anger at the wrong people. In some extreme cases I have suffered anxiety attacks that have been scary experiences, forcing all the emotions I try to keep internalized to the surface.
Not everything with how I cope and survive a low point is unhealthy. I do talk about it with my friends and really try to learn from things and listen to others advice. Writing letters that I don’t send really proves to be therapeutic for me as well, it allows me to express the emotions and pain I am feeling without causing more problems or dragging the other person into it. Sometimes I also write in a journal which is a good tool for reflection because being able to go back later and see helps me learn from past mistakes.
Time and life have helped me overcome a lot of obstacles and set backs in my life caused by depression. As a young adult I really let my depression take over my life, and while at times it still takes over, I have learned to live and cope much better as an adult. Medication helps and so does the understanding that a lot of this disorder is out of my control and I’m doing the best I can. While I struggle with sadness and the anxiety of life everyday I choose to not let it define who I am or what I can become.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Liar,liar,.... you know the rest.

They say it takes 28 days to break a habit. Sounds legit. So how long does it take stop loving someone?  Or how many weeks will it be until I don't miss someone?
One of my first posts I talked about a guy that I had gotten involved with and was trying to cut off, well needless to say the cutting off didn't work out to well. He has a way of pulling me back in... he's like a drug and I'm a junky for his bullshit. I would keep going back for one more fix. I would tell myself I could handle it we could be just friends and I would be fine or make excuses. I was lying to myself because I wasn't fine and the excuses that I was making for him couldn't hold water. No matter which way you sliced it, he was cheating, and it was wrong.
I'm on day 13 of breaking my bad habit. I've only got 15 more days to go. I've told my friends I don't want to hear his name or know any news or gossip about him unless it's dire. (Basically unless he's dead, dying or been take hostage by a band of misfit toys he doesn't exist to me.) At this point my only fear is randomly running into him somewhere and having a similar reaction to the last time, which could have been way more embarrassing. that it was.(Last time I 'almost' ran into him I was shopping with mom at the mall and was loaded down with purchases and saw him, her, and his daughter checking out and, no joke, RAN the other way and hid in the kitchen wares department of  Kohl's until I was sure they were gone while I proceeded to have a nice little panic attack.)  So far he's listened to what I said and not bothered me. I made it clear that as long as she was in the picture I couldn't be and the fact that he was marrying her when he obviously didn't want to was something I couldn't handle.
This whole thing has made me look at myself in ways I haven't enjoyed. Stacy Dr.Phil-ed me and told me I could be purposely going after unavailable men as a way of avoiding commitment.Well fuck. It's time to fix this shit and get on with it... I'm 31 years old and I'm single and I'm sick to death of it. 
So step one, get rid of the fucktard that's been screwing with my head/heart for the last 15 months. (semi-check... 15 days to go till that's done)
Step two, get off my ass. Since school is done for the semester I have sat on my ass in my apartment way to much, I need to get out of the damn house and find something to do.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Power of Forgiveness

          *** This is my final paper for my College Writing I class at Kent State-Tusc

        What does it mean to forgive? The dictionary says it means to stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw or mistake. It sounds so simple when it’s explained like that but, in truth, it’s really not. Forgiveness is complex and sometimes difficult step that some find nearly impossible. While it is difficult it can also be a rewarding and healing part of life.
            When I think of forgiveness the first person that comes to my mind is Nelson Mandela, to me he embodies the word. A man who was jailed for fighting against apartheid was able to forgive the government that imprisoned him and continue his fight by becoming President of South Africa. He strived to help heal his country from years of racism and violence by teaching his people to heal by forgiveness. He said, “If there are dreams about a beautiful South Africa, there are also roads that lead to their goal. Two of these roads could be named Goodness and Forgiveness.”
For Mandela forgiving those who wrong him and other blacks in South Africa was the way to heal and come together as one country. While it was thought that, “Wait until a black-led government takes over. Then these blacks who have suffered so grievously in the past will engage in the most fearful orgy of revenge and retribution against the whites.”(Tutu) While I’m sure there were bumps along the road, revenge was not the case for South Africa. Mandela led his people by example and I think they are better for it.
Another lesson in forgiveness is taught to us by the Amish. For those of us who grew up in this area we might take the Amish and Amish country for granted and fail to recognize some of the beauty of simplicity this culture shows us.  In October of 2006 a man walked into a one room Amish school house and shot and killed 5 young girls before taking his own life. The common reaction from the victims family’s would be anger and grief, and for some even revenge, but not from these Amish families. Almost immediately a member of the Amish community went to comfort the widow of the shooter and off their support. Many from their community also attended his funeral.
Just as Nelson Mandela did, the Amish used forgiveness as a way to heal. While being interviewed, one Amish man said, “The acid of hate destroys the container that holds it.”(Blake) This community knows that keeping anger and grief in your heart destroys a person, and they strive to stop that. These people are not super human in the sense that they aren’t immune to the pain or angry they just taught to deal in a different way.
These two drastically different cultures have the common thread of forgiveness and should be a lesson to all of us as human beings.  So, why is it so difficult for the rest of us to forgive each other for small things when these two groups have been able to forgive others for truly horrific crimes against each other?  How can we learn from others and achieve this gift of letting go? How can we grow from their examples?
To me, these are all hard questions that don’t really have a right or wrong answer and differ greatly from person to person. For my own life I have found that forgiveness is sometimes the most difficult part of my healing process. I have a tendency to hold on to the things that have been done to me almost as way of preventing myself from moving on and healing.  Even as an adult I’m still learning that forgiveness is an art form and a process that is not always easy.
However I and the rest of the world can learn from the examples set by Mr. Mandela and the Amish community and strive to more like them. I believe that if we all took the examples set forth by these strong people I think that we would live in a better world. While forgiveness can be hard work and sometimes can be a difficult goal to achieve I feel it’s good for the heart and the soul and we all can benefit from its power.

Works Cited

Biography,, Nelson Mandela Centre for Memory, 2012, Web, April 28, 2012, Nelson Mandela quotes

Tutu, Desmond. “Let South Africa show the World how to Forgive.” Knowledge of Reality. Issue 19, 1996-2006, Web, April 28, 2012

Blake, John. “’The Amish Way’ to forgiveness.”,, Web, September 15,2010, April 28, 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012


      I haven't posted for awhile because I've been busy as hell with work school and life. I have been writing though, I've been working on a paper for my College Writing I class. This is a paper I turned in last week and got....wait for it.... an A on! I put a lot into this paper, and am proud of it. So here it is! 
I would love any feedback by the way! Enjoy!

 I wear my memories everyday. They are scared onto my skin with ink and needles and physical pain. I wear it proudly because it’s a physical and outward symbol of who I am. The memories and loss of my close friend Matt have helped shape me into the person that I am and my outlook on life.
            I met Matt when were about 17 in the dining room of a fast food restaurant. He was shy, sweet, and beautiful. Our high school courtship carried on into adult friendship and when he joined the Army and moved away, we began writing letters to each other. We could have called or emailed (and sometimes we did) but more often than not we wrote letters. People don’t write letters anymore, it’s just easier to email or text, but letters seem to be more personal and heartfelt. In those letters we got to know each other, and became close. I still have almost all of them, stashed in a handmade music box.
            Matt had always been his own person but was a mix of the stereotypical macho guy and the emotional quiet kind. He was quiet, sensitive and had poetry published, but he was also funny, wild and sarcastic, and sometimes even brutally honest. We were alike in so many ways. I have so many memories of crazy nights that are blurred by to many drinks and not enough details.
One of the things I remember very vividly is a Valentine’s Day when he was deployed to Iraq he sent me a dozen pink tulips. He wasn’t my boyfriend, he was just my friend and he loved me enough to make sure I felt special that day. That was just who he
was, always supportive of me, listened to me whine and complain about guys, didn’t turn his back on me when I was foolish enough to fall in love with him a few times. (I mean who could blame me?) He told me the truth, even if I didn’t like it, and he didn’t pull any punches. I remember him as being perfect; the man to measure other men, but  “memories are both indelible and unstable” (Ventura, 131), and no one is ever perfect.
            I remember the day that everything changed for me. I spent the day around Lake Erie, with my fiancé at the time and his family. It was just getting dark and we decided we were going to make the three-hour drive home. We had stopped for gas when my cell phone rang, it was my friend Tamra, and it was odd that she was calling me because we didn’t talk on the phone often. I answered and she didn’t sound right, she was crying, and was trying to tell me something but couldn’t get the words out. She finally said, “Matt’s gone.” I can’t remember anything she said after that but I remember walking into the gas station bathroom and being sick. I was numb. It wasn’t real.  Once I got the details of his death things became real, very real. He took his own life, no note, and no warning signs. We were all shocked and wanted answers that weren’t there. I remember the pain of knowing that he was gone, and thinking that there was nothing worse then what I felt right then, and then finding out he did this himself, made it worse.  It scared me and worried me. We both had struggled with our inner demons, insecurities and fears. We had talked in length about them over the years. We were both sensitive and tended to hold on to pain. I let it out in dramatic fashion and he kept it to himself. It was hard for him to reach a breaking point I always thought.
It always seemed that he was so much stronger, so much more than other people.  My only thought was that he was too filled up with his own pain and couldn’t stand it anymore and did the only thing he thought he could. He had spent four or so years in the active duty Army and never got sent over seas. Once he got out and joined the National Guard, it seemed like he went instantly. He wasn’t happy in the guard, he called it amateur hour because no one seemed care and the standards were low. He came home in the middle of his tour for two weeks and refused to talk about anything that was happening there. He wanted to focus on being home and having fun. He only spoke about it a few times to me, ranting about people’s lack of ability and desire to do well. I think that he kept it from me so I wouldn’t worry about him, because I always did. Sometimes I wonder if things that he saw and experienced over there are what sparked this in him. People who commit suicide just don’t do it on a whim, and Matt wasn’t the type of guy that did anything serious on a whim.
I had experienced death before, but not like this. This was different; this changed who I was and how I looked at life. I had lost someone who was a one of kind friend, to me and many others. Loosing him gave me a perspective I never knew before and the understanding that life is fleeting and we shouldn’t take it for granted. I was angry for a long time. I still am angry at him for putting all of this through such hell and mad at myself for not being able to help him. Enough time has passed that I can take all of the memories, good and bad, and turn them into something constructive. I look
at life differently now, try my best not to take opportunities and people for granted. I strive to tell the people I love, how much I love them and what they mean to me while I can and try to live my life without regrets. I sometimes wish I could call him up and ask his advice and perspective on so many things. Most of the time I’m almost sure I know what he would say; be honest with myself and I will know what’s best.  Matt may be “gone from this earth, but not gone from my soul”(Burns, 126), I am reminded of him everyday, when I look down at my wrist and see his initials tattooed into my skin.

Works Cited
Burns, Melissa. “The Best Seat in the House” ,Dreams and Inward Journeys. Ed. Marjorie Ford & Jon Ford, Pearson, 2012, 126. Print.

Ventura, Michael. “The Peril of Memory”, Dreams and Inward Journeys. Ed. Marjorie Ford & Jon Ford, Pearson, 2012, 131. Print

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

I will take the Pink Straighjacket please.

I’m starting to wonder if the hype is true… am I totally crazy? Oh, for sure I know I’m at least a little bit crazy, it’s in my DNA, (Thanks Mom) but I’m wondering if my little bit has turned into a whole hell of a lot. I don’t want to spit some sob story about my life being hard or whatever, because I know EVERYONE has had it hard. I mean compared to say that kid Madonna adopted from Malawi or whatever, I grew up AWESOME. But compare me to some of those fucking assholes from Hollywood… yeah perspective. Let’s go down the checklist of the obvious stuff that fucked me up. Divorced parents. Check. Only child. Check. Father who had no clues what to do with a girl. Check. A mom that’s kind of crazy herself. Check. Well that’s a good enough to keep Dr. Phil busy for a couple of weeks. (Oh and I hate Dr. Phil. He’s a dick, yes he helps people, and yes, Oprah thinks he’s awesome. But something about him just pisses me off, and I think that he’s pussy whipped by that wife of his, and one of these days they are going to walk out on stage and she’s going to be pulling him by a leash.) I have self-diagnosed daddy issues, cause well, I’m a nut when it comes to guys. Like seriously.  In my first post I talked about a guy that I was seeing for about 10 months (I used the term ‘seeing’ very loosely here.) Well, I had the best intentions of never speaking to him again, but that did not happen. This is the part where I’m starting to think that I’m bat shit crazy. I KNOW better. He’s an asshole, but something always pulls me into talking to him again, it’s like he’s a drug, and I’m an addict. I’m addicted to chasing after this dick head who isn’t all that impressive (yes I know that’s mean, and yes I know I’m not a rich super model, but trust me on this one) It’s because I’m a fixer. I want to save someone.  I kept thinking, yeah, I could totally be in his life and make things better for him; I have a lot to offer. I’m smart, I have a good job, (and once I graduate I will have a better one, I hope) I work hard, him and I enjoy each other, we’ve got chemistry, and all that other crap, and I’m TOTALLY a big step up from his past girls. So here I am this, strong independent woman, whose smart enough to know better, but keeps getting pulled back into letting this person into my world, and I’m totally guilty because I WANT him there. This person who swore up and down he cared about me but lied to me from the start. And this wasn’t a little lie; this was a huge, Mount Everest kind of lie.  But yet, like a junkie I go back for more. I have to be crazy right? Honestly I think I’m going to Google pink straightjackets cause if you are going to be crazy you might as well look cute while you do it. Am I the only one that does this? I mean in my head I should be running screaming from this dude, but for some reason my feet are cemented to the ground and I can’t go anywhere. What the fuck is that about? See I have to be totally crazy right? Truthfully I’ve always been a little nuts when it comes to men, I don’t know why. I think now it has to do with the fact that I’m almost 31 years old and I’m single. I’ve got it in my head that I should be married and barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. I know that people are getting married later and later in life, and I know that there is nothing wrong with being 30 and single, but something in the recesses of my mind keep nagging me. Maybe it’s the biological clock that’s ticking or something. Apparently ones biological clock’s does not come with a snooze button, which is total bullshit.  So, let’s recap the things I need. A new biological clock with a big ass snooze button, (hmm wonder if Bed, Bath, & Beyond has that in the Beyond section), a new mind set where I think that it’s ok to be 30 and single, and some sort of love life intervention (can I go to the classy rehab place with the massages and acupuncture and maids?)

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Douche Canoe University

I have survived the first week of school and then some.  Well Monday (yesterday) was MLK Day so no class, and then tonight. I drive my happy ass to school (ok it’s not that far) get a bad ass parking spot only to find out my class has been cancel. Eh, this is the class I actually like (College Writing I) and I was a little bummed that it was canceled. My other class Algebra III is the biggest fucking joke ever. They don’t even teach. They put you in front of a computer and say there ya go, oh and on top of paying for the class you need to pay 75 bucks to access the website. Ok so you aren’t going to teach me anything, there is one test and I have to get a 76% on it or I can’t move on. Does anyone else see the issue here, cause I certainly do. I’m going into major amounts of debt for you to sit me in front of a computer and TEACH MY FUCKING SELF?! What a crock of shit. Thanks for the fine education you are giving me Kent State, what a bunch of fucking douche canoes. This is my new favorite word, thank you Jen at People Iwant to Punch in the Throat. This chic is by far one of the funniest people ever. After reading her blog I decide, ok I think I want to try this… granted ONE of my friends has the link to this blog. And apparently some Russians like me cause I keep getting page views from Russia so Здравствуйте! To all (3?) of my Russian readers.  :D Anyway, first week of school down. Goal is try and blog once a week, to you know bitch about school and life and shit. So till next week kids!

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Closure & such

So closure. I’m a person that needs that. Apparently there is a scientific scale for the need of closure; it’s appropriately called the Need for Closure Scale or the NFCS. These psychologist assholes are real creative aren’t they? Speaking of creative from what I’ve read they say that people that need closure are closed-minded and are uncomfortable with ambiguity and people that don’t need it express more ideational fluidity and emit more creative acts. Ok… well I hate fucking ambiguity. Drives me crazy, to me ambiguity is so weak. It’s like make a fucking choice already. I’m one of those people that like to know all the facts and the whole story. I’m a fucking Wikipedia junky. Honestly I should probably send them like half my income every month cause I used the site that much.  So yes, I’m an asshole and I need closure. More often than not it takes me a long time to get it. Years in fact. There is still an ex-boyfriend or two that I’m bitter about. According to the NFCS I’m a control freak. Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and say that’s legit. I’m fucking weird about some shit, people doodling on my desk calendar at work or using a pen in my schedule book.  Yes those are both stupid things to get uppity about but it just pisses me off. So let’s recap what we have learned today; I am a control freak that isn’t very creative and hates indecision. Yep sounds about right.