Emptying the Lent trap

I have been in a great mood all day, and it has taken me until this evening to finally figure out why.

I got up relatively early this morning, actually made time to eat breakfast, and took my medications immediately afterwards.

Apparently by taking my meds in the morning, they will kick in around early afternoon, which is the part of the day where I typically have class, homework, errands, or other important things to do. It's when my brain needs to be most active, and feeling happy definitely helps things.

For the past several months, I have been postponing my dose until after dinner or a late night snack, meaning that I have been sleeping through my peak period of positivity...pretty pointless.

(Yeah, had to get in that quintessential Marie alliteration.)

Now that I have come to this realization, I would very much like to make a habit of this, starting tomorrow. Why didn't I think of this earlier?

It's merely coincidence that tomorrow happens to be Lent. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with Lent. The principle behind it works for many people. It's just like making resolutions at the start of the year.

However, I prefer to make goals for myself when I feel led to, not when the calendar tells me that I should. Some people appreciate and benefit from the accountability of people doing the same thing at the same time, but for me, external social pressure pales in comparison to intrinsic motivation and reward.

I'm not sure if the title of this blog entry makes a whole lot of sense, but I thought it would be cute nonetheless.

More than you ever needed to know about me

a.k.a. The "25 things about me" survey that's been invading Facebook recently

1. I cried when Mufasa died in The Lion King. The kids I took with me to the theater asked if I was okay. It was cute but humbling.

2. As a child, my school sent a social worker to our house. Teachers were concerned that I didn't play with or talk to the other kids at recess, and they suspected that I was being abused. Little did they know that I simply preferred to be by myself most of the time. I guess it's not socially acceptable for kids to be quiet and reserved. Needless to say, my parents were not very happy.

3. I can't eat something salty without something sweet to balance it out, and vice versa. When I go out to restaurants, I either order a soda or eat my entree and dessert at the same time.

4. Every cat I've ever met has warmed up to me right away. I'm not sure why I'm such a magnet for the fuzzy ones.

5. If you do something nice for me, I will usually express my appreciation by baking something yummy for you or taking you out to lunch. Food is a love language in my culture.

6. For the past few months I have been dedicating myself to memorizing keyboard shortcuts to my most frequently used programs. It has significantly improved my productivity. I recently purchased a new laptop, and one of the reasons for choosing the model I did was because of how the keyboard and ports were laid out.

7. I have forgotten how to use commas and hyphens properly, but I'm too lazy to look it up, despite the fact that I use both quite frequently. You've all survived thus far, right?

8. My mp3 collection adheres to a very strict file name protocol. At its very essence, it is Artist - Title. In the case of multiple renditions of a particular song, it is Artist - Album - Title. Meta information (e.g. live or album version, hidden track, or featured artist) is contained in brackets to differentiate it from titles that may contain parenthetical words or phrases. Don't get me started on classical music. I may post a complete list of rules in a future blog entry.

9. I used to spend a great deal of time fighting entropy, but I have learned to accept it as a part of life. Chaos theory FTW!

10. Between my senior year of high school and my first few years of college, I was a dedicated concert junkie. Hours before the doors opened, I would be standing in line with like-minded fans, sometimes in inclement weather. When the doors opened, we would rush in to stand right by the stage. It was an incredible experience being inches away from the band while singing along with their songs.

11. I am a fan of sans serif fonts. My favorites are Gill Sans MT and Papyrus.

12. I have always gone by my middle name except for the six-year period between second and eighth grades when I lived in Chicago. When we moved, I was too shy to talk to anybody, and I was too scared to tell my teachers that I preferred to be called Marie. As a result, my friends there called me Cecile. They're all confused now.

13. Large social gatherings intimidate me. When I go to parties, I usually need to bring somebody with me, and I can only last a few hours before I become emotionally drained. I'm much more comfortable in small groups and catching up with people one-on-one.

14. As a toddler, I was more or less fluent in my parents' native language. When I started school, however, my parents worried that I would get teased or confused, so they started speaking to me mainly in English. As a result, I can only understand spoken Tagalog about 85% of the time, and with the exception of a few words and phrases, I can't speak it at all. Its grammar system is nothing like the Romance languages I studied in school.

15. Chocolate, sushi, cheesecake, Tetris, kittens, and hugs have powerful antidepressant effects over me.

16. It took a while, but I have trained myself to send text messages by touch, under my desk, during class, with 95% accuracy, while maintaining proper eye contact with professors and classmates. I usually wait until right after I contribute to class discussion in order to lower my risk of being called on mid-message.

17. The majority of my wardrobe does not fit me properly without hacking. One of these days I will learn how to commandeer a sewing machine so that my shirts and pants will not have to face the wrath of my shears.

18. I update, scan, back up, and clean my computer at least once weekly. Call me particular. I love my Adele.

19. It has taken years for me to accept myself for who I am and to put much less weight on who others want me to be.

20. With the exception of a small handful of "inside joke" profiles, I really do know everybody on my friends list. They come from every chapter of my life, and though I may not be in touch with everybody, they all have significantly impacted me in one way or another.

21. When I was in high school, I wrote a great deal of poetry. When I got to college, it turned into songwriting. Now that I'm in grad school, I've had a crazy long dry spell. I miss writing and hope to create something new soon.

22. I haven't opened a real newspaper in years. These days I use my Google Reader RSS feed, Digg, Fark, CNN, BBC, The Raw Story and the websites of local periodicals to clue myself in to what's happening in the world. On occasion I will turn on the TV when I'm at my parents' or Robert's house.

23. I don't own a TV. Actually, I do, but I don't use it for TV. It's more of a second monitor. I watch all of my shows and movies online and don't feel the need to pay for cable.

24. Answering machines and voice mail systems scare me. I get caught off-guard, feel put on the spot, and end up leaving a barely-coherent message. Even phone calls can be tough at times, depending on who I'm talking to. I actually feel most comfortable with e-mail and IMs. Both give me time to read and reread what is being said to me so that I can process it and craft an effective response. That can be really hard for me to do in real time.

25. I prefer liquid fabric softener over dryer sheets despite the lack of convenience. If you're willing to wait a bit and time things accordingly, you can be rewarded with a load of super-soft, great-smelling clothes.

Thoughts on the past 12 months or so

This would have been a suitable New Year's post, but I'm not really a huge fan of that particular holiday. I could blog about that in the near future despite its out-of-season nature.

It's been well over a year since moved to Kalamazoo, and a lot of things have happened since then. Here are a few highlights, in no particular order:

• Started grad school at Western
• Two friends of mine passed away in the span of one month
• Moved into my first apartment
• Adopted a kitten to keep me company
• Joined an a cappella group and a church choir, then left both due to time
  
• Scored a day job as a music teacher
• Fell in love again
• Best friend moved to New Mexico
• Parents bought a new house
• Got a new cell phone
• Graduated from weekly counseling sessions
• Learned how to love myself for who I am
• Watched more movies that I ever had in any other period of my life
• Acquired a few new hobbies, including baking yummy treats and playing MMORPGs
• Learned who my true friends are
• Let go of things I used to embrace
• Had quite a few mood episodes of the depressive variety

Needless to say, it's been quite an eventful year. I'm definitely loving life these days. Aside from a few occasional speed bumps, things are laid back and relatively consistent.

That's enough of an update for now, as I need to catch up on messages, do some homework, and bake a cake, because I have a mad chocolate craving. I may even make frosting this time.

More than spiders, mullets, and public speaking

Earlier this evening it was confirmed that this is one of my biggest fears:

This may seem a bit ridiculous at first, but hear me out. I had a craving for cinnamon rolls and decided to purchase the above product.

(Actually, it was a different permutation of the above product, made with Cinnabon's signature Jakarta cinnamon and cream cheese frosting, but alas, Google Image Search failed to provide me with the exact image for which I was hoping. Anyway, back to your erratically-scheduled blog entry.)

I preheated the oven, greased up a round cake pan, and was ready to go. The only remaining step was to get the tube open.

Easier said than done. Cinnamon rolls, biscuits, crescent rolls and the like, as yummy as they are, have always caused me mild anxiety attacks as a result of the way they are packaged. The instructions tell you to peel the label back until the package pops open. I usually loosen up a corner of label with my fingernail and begin the peeling process, keeping the entire cardboard cylinder as far away as possible. This is not easy, as I have short arms.

Most of the time, if I do it quickly enough, the thing makes a little pop and the dough is ready to go. In this case however, I pulled back the wrapping gingerly, stopping every centimeter or so in anticipation of the popping. However, I kept pulling, and soon the entire label was off. Now what?

I had to pull out a butter knife and press it along the crease in order to induce said poppage. This was even more tense than peeling. I wasn't sure exactly how much pressure was needed to crack it open, and I was flinching like crazy with every increase. Finally, it popped without notice. Since it was a Pillsbury product of the Grands variety, the diametric magnititude of these rolls resulted in a much louder and deeper popping noise than usual. It scared the living crap out of me and I jumped several feet high, despite the fact that I knew what was coming.

There was a bit of nervous laughter, and Robert was incredibly amused by this (I may have imagined this, but even Anna had a look of amusement on her little kitty face), but I was pretty much on the edge for the rest of the evening.

They say that cinnamon rolls and other similar pastries can contribute to cardiac arrest, but for me, that means more than just clogging arteries.

Poppin' Fresh haunts my dreams.

Marie vs. the pants

After surviving yet another week of grad school, I decided to give myself a break and start my weekend off with a bit of shopping. Sure, I've picked up groceries and other miscellaneous items recently, but it had been a while since I have made a trip specifically to seek out new additions to my wardrobe.

As long as we're talking about clothes shopping, I may as well toss in my standard fitting room rant. First off, the majority of fitting room attendants I have encountered in my lifetime have either been completely apathetic or absolutely bubbly, with no happy medium. It's not much of a problem dealing with the first group, but the second can be an issue, as it as in this particular case.

After rounding up an armful of promising articles of clothing, I checked in with the fitting room clerk and headed to my room. The checking in process consists of asking how many things you want to try on, and handing you a large plastic tag that matches that number.

This would be a sensible enough system if people actually used them, but more often than not, they are dropped to the floor on the way to the room rather than hung on the doorknob. Why not skip this step entirely? It's hard enough for me to carry five pairs of pants and a purse in my arms, let alone convince the fitting room clerk that there is indeed a person beneath the huge pile of talking pants asking him to jam the plastic tag somewhere in between the jeans without slicing her face, because she hasn't a free arm and will probably use her legs to open the fitting room door.

So after rushing in and dropping all to the floor, I proceeded to take off my clothes (don't get too excited there, my dear blog readers) and try on each shirt and each pair of pants. It's a grueling process. You have to look at yourself in a three-way mirror under fluorescent lighting while playing a game of trial and errror. Most of the time it's error.

I thought that pigs may be flying outside when I tried on a pair of jeans that seemed to fit well and look halfway decent on me. This hardly ever happens. The world doesn't make clothes for people like me. However, they were a bit too loose, even with a belt, so I tried a pair two sizes down, and those were way too snug. I was saddened and frustrated to discover that there was no size between them. Moments ago, I was fully convinced that I would be leaving this store with at least one new pair of pants.

Finally, defeated, I folded up my failed attempts and began the march of shame back into the store. The final straw was when the super-happy clerk saw me plop the pile down with the other rejects, flashed me a big smile, and asked, "So how did that work out for you?"

I never know how to respond to that. If I decided to go scuba diving and came back with one limb missing, due to a shark attack, would people ask me, "So did you enjoy your dive?" I have always thought that the look of utter contempt, paired with the abandoning of clothing, was enough of an indication. Perhaps others need a bit more stimuli than that.

Pants: +1
Marie: 0
Fitting room clerk: i