A Need For Needless Restriction

So I have all kinds of rules for my blogging.

I can't blog two nights in a row, it doesn't matter how insightful I think I am in the moment, I'll just look way too nerdy and obsessed with my blog.

But I am really nerdy and obsessed with my blog, and I should be myself and own what I am, so that isn't really a good reason. So we'll chalk it up to I'm trying a "moderation in all things except Diet Dr. Pepper," and that's why I can't blog two nights in a row.

I can't blog too extensively about what is actually going on in my life--I can spend at max two paragraphs describing a concrete experience that has happened in the past week, but other than that no go.

Which is kind of weird since storytelling is one of my favorite things to do, I don't know how many times I've girded up my pretension and scolded the person I've been talking to (or at) for interrupting the 'narrative flow.'

But yeah that's a rule because if I obsess too much over what is happening in my day I'll just get dragged down by the minutia and be yet another whiny blogger.

Also in those two paragraphs that I am allotted, I'm not allowed to talk about anything big that is bugging me. Because it probably won't bug me tomorrow and once again we've accidentally returned to the same page of my own choose-your-own-adventure book, the page that says "you're a ridiculous whiny blogger."

And if it still is bugging me the next day? Then I should have probably kept my mouth shut, because if anything affects me for more than 24 hours then that means it's an actual big deal, and blogging about it where the wrong person could read it would look accidentally passive aggressive.

Wow, accidentally passive aggressive? Has that ever been achieved before or am I just that uniquely neurotic?

Related to the limit personal experiences rule is the rule about discussing one's "feelings." This is a huge no-no.

I am allowed be incredibly passionate about an inanimate object, such as the James Dean cardboard cutout or my lovesac (or as Jordan accidentally dubbed it, the "mansac," longer funnier story that doesn't fit into my parameters of no sharing real stories), but feelings towards people or about myself? Ewww.

And I don't think that one really even needs an explanation for that rule. Except that I'll explain it anyway: Introspective feelings or reactions to people are frequently fleeting and always an unoriginal way to express oneself. It's all about showing who you are through oblique rants, not by actually telling everyone on the internets how you feel. For that would be too easy. And it would have the horrible side effect of making my posts much much shorter.

I think that's it for the rules I have, but there are a few principles that are a little sticky as well.

Such as the principle that telling everyone to read your blog is lame, but then again so is posting blogs that no one reads. That should be in every student's Intro to Philosophy textbook. We would call it the Shurtz Paradox. People could write term papers on what they think should ethically be done about it. I'll probably just give in to the need for approval and put it as my status on facebook that people should read my blog.

I am so pathetic. But at least I'm self-aware of how sad my state is. Somehow that must be better than being unaware of my social suicide. Suicide of any kind should have some real pondering behind it.

I am feeling an intense resentment toward all rock formations right now, hopefully that'll go away soon considering the landscape of Provo, UT, but if it doesn't and you hear some rumblings coming from Squaw Peak that's just Mary and her tiny fists of fury taking care of some unfinished business with those bloody mountainous masses.

Geology exams suck.

Rankling Under My Skin

I've lost my words. No, really, my ability to communicate has been all over the place the last few weeks. My jokes are coming off mean, it's like I can't control my inflection any more, that muscle keeps spazzing out and putting more hostility into everything than what was intended. Also, I'm misreading everyone's intentions because they're responding to mildly emotionally retarded Mary and everything is getting garbled. Is there a verbal chiropractor that I could see that could realign the spine of my intonation so that I can stop being a social pariah?

A concurrent conversation with my blogging has made me want to throw in the random comparison me and my friend Adam came up with: taking a relationship really slow can be nice-- you don't want to rush things like a guy on crack, you want to take it slow like a guy using weed. The benefits of this approach? It allows you to really enjoy the simple small things in life that are making you happy or just blow your mind for their pure genius. In short, the relationship is more chill, contemplative, and slightly psychedelic. Yeah I should probably go to sleep more often. But this kind of relationship really does sound nice. For the record I have never actually done that, unless you count the slow relentless decay of my self esteem during an unrequited crush, but I really do think theoretically that a slow relationship would be awesome.

How come men in media can get a close-up on their face and the lines around their eyes only make them look even more distinguished and handsome and individual? I mean my genes are pretty good in the wrinkles department, I'm going to look like I'm underaged for the rest of my life and by association make my husband look like a cradle robber, but it's the principle of the thing. Women so often find guys attractive who objectively could only be called "interesting-looking." Men? Kinda picky little buggers.

I don't have an iPod. Is that at all weird? I had a little mp3 player for short trips for about three years but accidentally washed it a couple weeks ago (sorry Kristen I was pretty bummed about that) but I have totally not embraced the iPod sensation. I'm still in fact addicted to mixed CD's.

And before you think that is incredibly arcane just realize that everyone should be pretty psyched that I've even moved past mixed tapes--it was the blisters I would form from keeping my fingers primed and ready on the play/record combination that finally cured me of that one.

But I am just not responding to the whole idea of having all the music you own ready at your fingertips. My argument against it? It makes things too easy. It makes you just want to push "shuffle" and be done with it, and then you're assaulted with music from entirely opposing genres that don't settle you down at all but just wind you up tighter and tighter in emotional response confusion.

Yeah I know everyone's next point is going to be that you can make playlists on your iPod but I just don't buy it. The playlist does not exist to me the same way an overheated CD with my horrific chicken scratch handwriting on it does. I guess that makes me a rather narrow minded person if I can only comprehend things that I can literally grasp. How shallow. Ah well who really wants to be deep anyway, creepy underwater beings live in the deep dark places of the world.

I found out about a month ago that a kid that I went to school with 4th-10th grade was put in prison for attempted murder. He tried to kill his parents. We were desk buddies for three years due to the imprisonment of alphabetical seating. But I never minded sitting next to Clark. He never really paid attention to the teacher, which was mildly horrifying to my ten-year-old self, but he was always nice to me and kinda stuck up for me sometimes. But it's true that even back then you could tell he was one of the troubled kids, the ones who acted out and came to school smelling like alcohol and never sounded like he liked his parents very much. It's just so incredibly sad the way that worked out.

By the way, the picture accompaning this blog has no real meaning. Well, I mean it has meaning, it's a huge internation icon, has a rich crazy history and all of that jazz, but it doesn't really mean much in the context of this blog except that it is one of my favorite photographs. Ever. I literally just now stared at it for twenty minutes. Again, I should probably sleep more.

I get a kick out of posting my momentary obsession music, so I'm going to do it again:

You're Fit But You Know It--The Streets
As The World Falls Down--David Bowie (yes it ABSOLUTELY is from Labyrinth)
Sex and Candy--Marcy Playground
Fully Alive--Flyleaf
Helter Skelter--The Beatles
Every Rose Has It's Thorn--Poison
Satisfaction--Rolling Stones
In Bloom--Nirvana
Walk Idiot Walk--The Hives
Open Your Eyes--Snow Patrol
Romeo and Juliet--The Killers
Sour Times--Portishead
All I Want Is You--U2
Wild Horses--The Sundays
Time After Time--Quietdrive (cover)
Love of the Loveless--Eels
My Doorbell-White Stripes
The Bitch Song--Bowling For Soup
Lake of Fire--Nirvana
Fix You--Coldplay
That Day--Poe
Instiutionalized--Suicidal Tendencies
Zero--The Smashing Pumpkins

Don't read too much into what's going on there musically, I'm actually trying to get hardcore back into practicing my arias, so it's just really there for contrast from my rehearsing. I wish I hadn't slipped to the point where I suck at singing now.

Dusting Out the Corners of My Mind

I think I must look really vulnerable when I'm first waking up, because it is the only time of day when Becca consistently hugs me of her own volition.

There is something incredibly trashy about white-blond hair when it has even the slightest hint of roots. No, really, once that happens start wearing the sports bra under the tank top and only buy at GenX, just embrace what you are.

When the girls that were in my first grade class use facebook as a medium to swap tips on where to pick out the cutest hair bows for their toddlers I pretty much just want to move to a nunnery to avoid the constant shock to my system. As long as this nunnery had cable I think I'd be good. Becca could come too.

Great quote from Joe Slinker today: "Hey, a gay Heath is better than no Heath at all." I'm debating whether or not I should give you the context or just let you puzzle it out. Guess which one I decided on.

I shoved a guy on the bus today. Hard. No, really, I did. He was looking me over for a while and then told me I had beautiful eyes. I awkwardly thanked him, people have said that before but I never know how to take it. But he was insistent that I understand what he meant: "No, seriously, if you put those eyes on another body . . .you'd be a knockout." Not the most mature thing for me to do but in my defense a) he's an asshole and b) I'm just incredibly sick of people deciding that I need to know how dissatisfied everyone is with my appearance. I think my scrappy spunkiness is coming back. I like it, it's been a while.

I'm pretty sure if I could get Jones Soda to accept a picture from me and put it on a bottle I would count my entire existance as a success.

Sometimes I take myself so seriously I just want to sucker-punch myself in the mouth.

Top Ten Songs I Am Currently Obsessed With: (in no particular order)

Bullet With Butterfly Wings--The Smashing Pumpkins
Love Song--The Cure
Paper Bag--Fiona Apple
Talk Dirty To Me--Poison
Good Enough--Evanescence
Build Me Up Buttercup--The Foundations
I'm So Sick--Flyleaf
I Want You (She's So Heavy)--The Beatles
Dance Karate--Chris Merritt
Take Another Little Piece of My Heart--Janis Joplin
Reign On Me--The Who
Paper Planes--M.I.A.
Something In the Way She Moves--The Beatles
ABC--Jackson Five
Alone--Heart
Different Situation--Athenaeum
Sci-Fi Wasabi--Cibo Matto
Solitude--Evanescence
You Shook Me All Night Long--ACDC
The End is the Beginning is the End--The Smashing Pumpkins

Yeah I know that ended up being twenty instead of ten, but whatevs. Man that is a schizo list.

I really want to go grab some of my amazing cream cheese wantons from the fridge but my roommate is entertaining a gentleman caller and I really don't want to ruin the magic.

I'm pretty sure hell is going to consist of me being stuck in the friends zone with all the incredible guys I have met in this life.

I have got to lay off the intense movies for a bit--in the last week I have watched The Fall, Serpico, The Air I Breathe, The New World, Macbeth, Scent of a Woman, and Memento. And Scarface is coming tomorrow. Ohhh now my weird mood is so starting to make sense!