anti-bedtime

"You're not allowed to go to bed until AFTER 9:00."
...hm

 All growing up, I had a bedtime that I faithfully abided by. Sometimes, in high school, I'd stay up past my bedtime, but I definitely suffered the consequences of being dead the next day.

 Now, when I say bed time, I don't mean I was told "Katie, you MUST BE IN BED BY ELEVEN OR ELSE!" My parents didn't care when I went to sleep; as long as I wasn't making a ruckus around the house they were chill with me going to bed whenever. It was pretty much a bedtime set by me. Set by me, of course, really means set by whenever I was too tired to continue being awake. This usually was around 11:00. I used it as an excuse to get off the phone with high school boyfriends. As much as I pretended it wasn't set by me, I knew deep down that I was just pathetic and needed to go to bed early in order to function. I didn't know, until today, that I was pathetic enough to have an anti-bedtime.

 Anti-bedtime is a term I just made up. It means you are assigned a time when you're not allowed to go to sleep. You may be thinking, "Wow, Katie. You're almost 21 years old. Why are your parents giving you this crazy order?" Well here's my story.

 I woke up this morning at 8:45 because I was planning on running before I started my day (see how the run went here). So I ran. I work as a lifeguard, and today is Memorial Day. To the lifeguards at my pool, Memorial Day (as well as Fourth of July and Labor Day) means you better get to the pool early if you want to get a parking spot. Now, I wasn't scheduled to work until 3 p.m., but I knew better. I decided that right after my run, I'd head over to the pool to work on my tan/get a decent parking spot. The pool opens at 10, I got there at 10:30 and was lucky to find a spot. That's how crazy it was. My boss ended up asking me to start my shift three hours early (which is totally fine by me, I'll take all the hours I can get), so I ended up guarding from 12-7. That's a freaking long shift, especially in the hot sun at 99% humidity. I almost died.

 Such a busy day. I was so drained; I wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. When I got home, my sister was making dinner. I wanted to know when it'd be ready because I wanted to go to bed. My mom overheard this and yelled from the other room, "Katie, you're not allowed to go to bed until after 9:00." What the crap.

 Her reasoning wasn't all that terrible. I start my internship tomorrow, and my parents didn't want me going to bed too early and waking up in the middle of the night not being able to get back to sleep. That's understandable, but then again that shows how much they don't know me - I could sleep all day every day if I was given the opportunity.

 So, parents, I hope you guys are happy. 9:00 p.m. has officially passed and I am still awake. I'm surprised I'm actually coherent enough to continue typing. Not for long, though. Not for lonn.jfsjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

go big or go home

This is a theme I've seen a lot in my life lately, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Why can't people just be satisfied with a moderate amount of           ? We're immersed in a society where we're conditioned to believe that bigger is better, which isn't necessarily true. For example:

• I was watching House Hunters International last night (yeah it was a Friday night...don't judge). If you aren't familiar with the show, basically these people get assigned to a real estate agent, tell him or her the budget, the agent picks out three homes for the clients to choose from, they complain excessively, and finally choose a house to buy. So anyways, last night the budget was 1 million (for a vacation home...I mean if you have that much money, good for you). The house they ended up choosing was 1.45 M. Why even have a budget if you're going to go over it by $450,000? Reason? Go big or go home.
• I went for a run this morning, so I decided it would be ok to eat one mini Reese's ball (I don't know what exactly they're called, but it's like those round egg shaped chocolates you get for Easter. Not Reese's eggs, ugh whatever). It was so delicious, I ate another one. I couldn't stop myself. How could I have so little self-control over something so trivial? Reason? Go big or go home.
• I took a nap yesterday around 4:15. I planned for it to last 30 minutes, but I didn't end up getting out of bed until I was called for dinner at 7:30. Why am I so addicted to sleep? I could have been productive and cleaned my room (side note: I let a friend borrow my lifeguarding book, which was buried in my room somewhere. It was slightly embarrassing to have him see all of my crap everywhere, including my dirty laundry strewn down the hallway. If that's not motivation to clean, I'm not sure what is.), but no. A combination of my love of sleep and my mindset of bigger is better dooms me every time I try to take a power nap. Ok maybe not the mindset, but I did go big instead of going home.
• The other day, I needed to buy some sun screen. I could get one for $2.59 or two for $4.00. I only needed one, but of course I got the two. Why? Go big or go home.
• You see them everywhere, those trucks with the enormous wheels. Personally, I think they look quite silly. Why do people think that bigger wheels are better? Maybe they feel more powerful the higher up they are. Maybe they are compensating for something. Maybe they feel as if the air quality at the higher altitude is more suitable for them. The real reason? Go big or go home.

There are plenty more examples of this bigger is better fad. Perhaps one day people will realize the detrimental side effects of "supersize me", but for now, we'll just have to deal with paying too much for overly enormous houses, eating too much chocolate, or napping for excessive amounts of time.

old lady katie

 I'm such an old lady...it's only 20 minutes past midnight and I'm about to die. As incoherent as this post may turn out to be, bear with me. Bare with me? Whatevs. I'm going to write a poem about my day. Enjoy. Or don't, it doesn't make a difference to me.

I woke up at 8:30 today
Gotta get to the bank and deposit my coins I've saved
Eighty two dollars and fifty cents I'll deposit
So I can put lots of new clothes in my closet
Drive forty five minutes to get to the mall
On my way to the second floor I did fall
I got lots of new big girl clothes
Snot kept dripping out of my nose
After we left the mall we went to Costco
But Panera is where Em and I really wanted to go
We were tired so we sat in the display chairs
We read magazines and slept while we got lots of stares
When we got home we ate dinner and had a nice time
I didn't get shot in the face with a lime
To record my workouts, I made another blog
Then I chilled and played with my dog
I went to Josh and EB's house after that
Jordan took pictures and made us look fat*
Played loaded questions and I laughed off my head
Now I'm tired so I'm going to bed

*She has this app on her phone that allows her to give people double chins...it's actually pretty hilarious

Some of this stuff didn't really happen...I didn't fall down at the mall. But whatever, it rhymed. And I'm tired. So there.

8th grade graduation of death

 Today was Emily's 8th grade graduation. Of course since I am home for the summer, I was expected to go, and it's whatevs, I didn't mind. I like my sister now (Side note: last summer I avoided her like the plague...13 is a terrible age for anyone). I was going crazy. I couldn't bring my computer, but I brought a piece of paper and a pen. This is what I wrote. It's not funny or anything, it was just a way to express my frustrations in a civil manner. Enjoy.

 Could this be any more drawn out? I knew it would be bad...but not this bad. They are going homeroom by homeroom, naming each kid and every single A or B average he/she received. If you're going to name grades, at least say A honor roll or B honor roll... I really don't care if Susie So-and-so got a B average in World Connections, whatever the heck that is (apparently it's the 8th grade version of world geography?). Long story short, it's taking forever and I just want to go back to bed. (Did I mention it was 8:45 a.m.?)

 Someone just got the Middle School Participation Award. Wow. Congratulations, you get the award for obeying the law and going to school (Now, I would feel bad saying this if I didn't get lunch with his aunt, who told us he was just lazy and didn't do his work).

 My dad just got up to go to the bathroom. I bet he didn't even have to go...smart man. I may try that later.

 Em's 6th grade boyfriend just got his award. He got her locker magnets for Christmas, lolz. Luckily, they broke up. Although he kind of annoys me (most 8th grade boys do), he's got some swagger to his step. Good for you, little white boy.

 This ceremony wouldn't be as bad if it wasn't so early. Most of my (sane) friends are still sleeping at this hour of the day, leaving me no escape from the middle school gymnasium. At least Em is sitting in the perfect spot for me to make faces at her. And talk to her. Too bad she's awful at reading lips. So far I've been able to communicate "I will cut you" and "I don't care" (in regards to someone getting the highest grade in language arts) to her.

 I think the lady beside me is watching me write this. I just caught her staring at my paper. Hello, lady with very poofy hair. I offered her a piece of gum earlier, but she declined. More for me...or my dad. He's been through two pieces already and it's not even 10 yet.

 My nose keeps running.

 I just want to cry. This thing is so freaking long. You may say, 'Hey, Katie, why don't you complain a little more?' Don't mind if I do.

 This old man in front of me keeps leaning back and bumping into my leg or sitting on my feet. So awkward. He's wearing a college basketball t-shirt while everyone else is semi-dressed up. Classy.

 Ok I really need to blow my nose. I'll try and hang in there until the applause.

 It's Morgan's homeroom! Morgan is one of my sister's friends and our neighbor. She'll tell you anything you want to hear. Last week she told me she was going to break up with her boyfriend because he was so strange; he told her he wanted her to kiss him...IN CHURCH. Lolz, but good for her! I just waved at her. She, unlike Emily, actually waved back.

 Well, I just went to the bathroom to blow my nose. I should have stayed in there longer to pass the time by, but the walls were so disgusting. When I was in middle school there, the bathrooms were so nice. I guess that had a little something to do with it being a brand new school and all. It hasn't aged very well. That's what 8 years does to you...or maybe middle schoolers are just gross.

My dad just left. His excuse was pretty lame, who has to actually be at work these days...? Whatever. Maybe I'm just jealous. Ok yeah I admit it, I am. 

 I'm hungry. My mom is taking pictures of cute middle school boys to ask Em about them later. It's the most confusing mix of brilliant and creepy ever; I'm not sure what to think.

 Nose is running again. This time I'll stay in the bathroom longer.

 The toilets are so short! So are the toilet paper dispensers. I guess that would make sense since this is a middle school, but it's still annoying to try and get a tissue out.

 All these kids look like punks. I hope we get to leave soon, the last homeroom is up there. It's 11:15, maybe we'll get out early!

 ...30 minutes later...

 Ugh. Ok maybe not, but whatever. I'll never have to deal with another 8th grade graduation again. Or at least anytime soon. 

 The only thing that got me through this was the promise of Olive Garden for lunch from my mom. Still not sure if it was worth it.

motivation level: back to zero

 It's not that I like having a dirty room, I really like cleanliness. It's not that I want to rebel against my mom's wishes and have a pig sty for a room, I love and respect my mom. It's not that I forget to clean, I'm reminded of it every day when I wake up. It's not that I'm lazy (although that's a fair assumption). It's that I have no motivation. 
 I've been home from college for just under two weeks. I was completely unpacked with a (mostly) clean room two days later. My motivation? I was leaving for Rockbridge three days after I got back from school. Now that I'm back from Rockbridge, there is nothing motivating me to clean. However, there have been some good attempts: I start my big girl job next Tuesday, but that's a week away and I have plenty of time to clean. I'm going shopping Thursday for big girl clothes, but I'm sick and need to rest. I got new songs on iTunes, perfect for a room cleaning playlist, but that would entail me actually making a playlist. My friend, Marisa, who usually motivates me at school was texting me and trying to help me, but then I was like, I want to do my ab workout. My life is like that, a constant battle between my motivations and demotivations. I tried to make posting a picture of my mess online a motivation, but it just made me want to build a fort with all of the blankets that are on the floor.
 I think I'll try again this afternoon, but first I need to eat lunch.

feeling a bit sluggish this morning

 My mom went out and bought fresh strawberries the other day, and we had them for dessert last night. My dad cleaned and cut them for us and they were so good. This morning, I decided to have some for breakfast. I asked my mom if they were already washed and she said yes, so I started eating them. They were so good. I noticed something gooey on my finger. I thought it was a piece of a mushy strawberry, so I put it on the side of my bowl. I looked closer. It looked back at me. It was early, so I looked again to make sure I wasn't crazy. Then, it started crawling down the bowl.
 Oh hey, baby slug, it was nice of you to join me for breakfast.
 Now I had two options. I could freak out and throw the rest of the strawberries away, or I could keep eating and watch the little critter crawl around my bowl. I decided since they were amazingly good, and I already had eaten more than half of the slug-infested strawberries, I'd just rinse off the remaining berries and continue with my breakfast. I'd question my judgement, but then again, I had just woken up so my judgement wasn't completely reliable.
 This whole day, I kept picturing that baby slug, in its tiny wonder, looking back at me,. I know it was thanking me for allowing it to stay for breakfast. I almost feel bad for throwing it away when I had finished. Almost.

you know it's finals time when...

...your dreams start affecting your reality. The cute guy in my class was a rapping cheerleader. Not so cute anymore.

...you wear two different shoes to your exam. And don't realize it until you walk in the door.

...you decide it's a good idea to, rather than drive your car to physical therapy, to run, fully aware that this means you must run back, too.

...you use shampoo twice instead of conditioner. When you notice what you've done, you reach for the face wash instead of the conditioner.

...you go to unlock your car with your dining hall swipe card.
...you find your doctor on Facebook when you don't even know her last name.

...you give the dining hall lady your physical therapy appointment card instead of your meal plan card

...you find yourself having a conversation about how good you are at pooping.

...you wake up to people making fun of the way you fell asleep sitting up in your chair.

...you can't remember the last time you showered.

...you managed to finish your final and squeeze in a nap in the 3 hour exam period.

...you accidentally put your headphones up your nose instead of in your ears. 

such a rebel

 I am kind of breaking rules, kind of. I'm not really supposed to have my car on campus, but nearing the end of the school year, it would be silly if I didn't. Cause how would I get home? I have too much stuff to get it all home in one trip with another body in the car. So I went home for Easter and brought Harriet (my car, a black escape. Think about it...) back to school with me. I parked it at my friend's apartment. I totally would have paid to have it parked it on campus with a temporary pass, but the police lady was so pissy on the phone I got scared and decided to stay as far away from them as possible. I ended up getting the better deal, parking fo free on the street by the apartment. Only problem is that it's a good 10 or 15 minute walk. But whatevs, walking is healthy.
 On weekends, anyone can park on campus (Friday @5 - Monday morning @7:45. This past weekend, we had a beach trip. I drove. When we got back, I parked on campus. My master plan was to park in a loading zone (no decal needed, 2 hour limit) so I wouldn't have to move Harriet until after 9 Monday morning. It was perfect since I didn't have to be at physical therapy until 9:15.
 Of course other people came up with a similar plan and all of the loading spots were taken.
 So that is why I am awake at an awful hour of the morning. To move my stinkin car because I'm too lazy to walk the extra 10 minutes to the safe parking spot. I'm currently at an hour meter behind my dining hall, so I'm just waiting for my p.t. appointment. It's in 45 minutes, and I only have 15 left on the meter because it's an hour meter. Nice.
 A lighter note, how do people with crazy accents hide it so well in their singing voices?

self control

It's exam week, which means my Youtube and Facebook usage has spiked. My friend introduced me to this program called Self Control. You make this blacklist of websites that you want it to block for you, which is great for being productive but a disaster when you want to procrastinate. Which I always want to do.

I set it for 2 hours to block Facebook, Youtube, and the Widget store so I couldn't get Bubble Bazinga back on my dashboard. No matter what I try to do, nothing will lift the block. I can restart my computer...I can delete the application...no dice. I should probably block this site, maybe I'm not addicted to it yet since it's so new to me. I'm sure it'll make the list next semester. Or maybe tomorrow.

This is awful. I really want to listen to Glee's version of Friday on Youtube...I know there are other ways to get to it, but I can't abandon Youtube like that. It's been there for me when I needed it most...until Self Control.

Curse you, Self Control, curse you and your scary skull and crossbones icon.

will the real slim katie please stand up

 My name is Katie, and here's where I'll tell you basic things about me that I appreciate but most other people probably won't.

 I love office supply stores. Drop me off at a Staples for a day and I'd be in heaven. I fully believe that there will be a free office supply store in heaven when I get there. And I will get there, cause I love Jesus with all my heart soul mind body and strength :) . Speaking of heaven, it'll probably smell like one part Cold Stone Creamery and one part bacon. And Panera.

 I love clean sheets of paper and new mechanical pencils. Bacon. I am mentally allergic and physically terrified of mayonnaise. 3 ply > 2 ply > 1 ply. Sometimes I pretend I'm really gangster. I practice rapping. When I first typed that last sentence, I typed "wrapping"- I guess that's something I could practice? But it really just proves how white I am. I have a very large safety bubble - stay out. My birthday is on October 9, which is a very aesthetically pleasing date when it's typed. Bacon. My roommate is Lauren and she is so awesome. I just recently admitted my love for Justin Bieber out loud. I have strange dreams. Really strange... My family is cool and shares in my enjoyment of bathroom humor at the dinner table. I love to sleep, probably because I have 3 inches of memory foam on my bed.  I giggle every time I hear the word "duty". Hehe. I have brown hair and brown eyes and I wear size 7.5 shoe. I have a crush on every boy. If anyone has any or all of the seasons of Even Stevens, please let me know or get it for me because that's what's on the top of my Christmas List. A close second is a swag coach. You can get one of those for me, too.