Take a Wok

Sup people. 

I'm incredibly bored. This is my last day in this class and it is still SO BORING. I was literally playing Pokemon on my 3DS until it died like a minute ago. The only reason I'm writing this blog because my primary way of procrastination has died. 

Wow. 

I'm almost done with this semester and I have put so little effort into literally everything. It's so sad. It's also sad that I am actually doing okay in like all of my classes. My lowest grade is a B. College is such a waste of time. 

I am so ready to be done with this whole college nonsense, people. Do I have plans after college? No. Do I care about that right now? I absolutely do not. Will I probably care about that in six months when I graduate? Most likely, yes, Yes I will.

But right now. Whatevs. What. Evs.

Other people annoy me. I'm in class right now and I'm just sitting here. Hating everyone. Look at them...paying attention and taking notes. Psh. Casuals. Playing life on easy difficulty I see, with your notes and your fancy shoes. 

Some of us like to do things the hard way, thank you very much. Some of us like to make things needlessly complicated. This isn't going well. I should give this metaphor up. This is not the hill I want to die on. 

Nothing is making sense right now. 

It might have to do with the, like, five hours of sleep that I got last night. I have a new game. I was busy playing it. It was Important.

But, no. Five hours of sleep. it's a thing that's happening. It's a think that's been happening every night for the last like two weeks since the game came out. Also, since I turned 11 and discovered the wonder of wasting time in the internet. 

I am not good at this whole "human" thing.

I either sleep way too much or too little.

I never do my homework or think about my future plans.

And today for breakfast, I had a candy cane and a juicebox.

Uuuuuuurrrrgggggghhhhhh,

I guess we should just be glad that I had breakfast, honestly. 

But, yeah. This is not news. We all know I make bad life choices. That is an accepted fact. Me and my bad choices, getting here five minutes late with starbucks. But the starbucks is actually apple juice and a candy cane because that is apparently how I roll.

Thanksgiving happened. Thanksgiving was good. I cooked stir fry in a wok because apparently I can cook anything so long as it is tangentially related to stir fry.

Ah, my job. Six more months at my job and I never have to be grudgingly polite to a member of a Ball State sports team ever again. 

Anyway. 

Finals week is coming up. I am not actually all the worried. The less preparation I put into something, the better it seems to go so...yeah. Studying isn't something that I am planning on doing, I'm not about that life.

This blog isn't making much sense or addressing anything of importance. If anything, it was kind of legitimately depressing, due to my lack of direction and healthy life choices.

Mkay. Class is over. I'm going to go find food, despite the fact that I left my wallet at home. 

This is going to be an adventure. 

The One True Elder Fish

This class, guys,

This claaaaaaasssss.

It is so boring. I've been in here for thirteen weeks. Three hours a week for thirteen weeks...that's like a lot of hours. 39 hours, according to the Google search I did just now.

I mean, I've only been in class for like 30 of those hours, but still. I've been in here longer than a full day and I have yet to learn like anything. I've learned that this professor is horrible and that negative learning is a thing that is possible.

I have lost knowledge in this class. It has had a negative impact on my brain.

It's bad too because I feel like this guys is legitimately trying to do well. If he was being lazy or whatever, I would feel perfectly okay sitting in my corner and resenting him. But I've come to realize that this is him trying his best.

So now I have to sit in my corner and feel awkward.

It's not all bad. There's a certain type of solidarity that you form with a room full of other people who have to endure a terrible professor with you. Like, I don't really talk all that much to the other people in my classes, but in this class you can just catch someone's eye and they'll nod at you with a look in their eye that says, "I understand, fellow student. This guy is the worst. This class is the worst. Let us suffer in silence together like the brave soldiers we are."

One of the guys in my class is literally a former solider. So he is really good at that look.

Ugh.

I just hate being here. Sad thing is, this is far from the first class I've had like this. In my three and a half years of college, I've had like three professors I legitimately liked, a lot I was more or less ambivalent about and then like at least a third who were just staggeringly incompetent.

(I'm aware I went from numbers to guesstimation to, like, fractions. Shut up, my school sucks.)

But, yeah. Ball State. Mediocrity redefined.

I'm thinking that after I graduate I might write them an angry letter and demand my money back. College has a thirty day money back guarantee, right? Or am I getting it confused with sweaters again? Yeah, I think the money back thing is about sweaters. Never mind.

Speaking of graduation, that is a thing that is happening soon. Like, that's about six months away. Then I am supposed to join the adult world. With, like, a job and things. And hey potential employers for sociology students who I know read my blog...I am totally available.

Seriously, though. I only have this degree because I kept changing majors, but also kept taking sociology electives. I realized this summer that the only way I would be able to graduate on time would be with a sociology degree.

So, now I have this degree almost?

And I have seriously no idea what I am supposed to do with it.

It's not like there are sociology shops on every corner. I can picture myself now, begging by the highway with a sign that says "WILL EXPLAIN SOCIOLOGICAL CONCEPTS FOR FOOD."

Errrruuuuugggghhhhh.

This class is still going on. I think that we've slipped into a black hole. Time has stopped. We've reached the event horizon.

I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored.

I went fishing this weekend. I'm aware that there was no transition there, but I couldn't come up with one and I wanted to talk about fishing.

So, fishing. Yes.

My dad was with me. He makes a big deal about all of the fish that we catch. It's very nice, especially for my little brother. But he makes an even bigger deal about the fish that we don't catch.

According to my father, every fish that we don't catch is roughly the size of malnourished elephant.

Like, if  we catch a fish he'll be all like, "wow! great catch, this fish is literally the biggest fish I've ever seen, excellent work everyone, we really came together as a team."

But if a fish gets away it's like, "too bad, that was the spawn of cthulu, the one true elder fish. the fish of legend and myth. forever we shall be haunted by the fishy glory that was almost ours this day!"

Yeah, my dad is great.

But, anyway. I am not skilled at fishing. I was not aware that there was any skill involved. But based on the results that I had, there is skill involved and I do not have it.

 I also do not really enjoy fishing. I mean, I've been fishing before, but not for the past couple of months. And I completely forgot how insanely boring it was.

This happens all of the time. I do something, think it's boring, stop doing it and forget about. But then a couple of months will pass, I'll forget about it and then I'll decide that I need to try again. It's a vicious cycle.

This has happened with knitting, drawing, playing piano and waking up early enough to curl my hair. And probably a lot of other things. We've established that my memory is not the most reliable thing.

This blog is fairly short. But class is over in like five minutes and I have important things to go do. Like more classwork for this stupid school. I am going to graduate. I don't care how stupid things get. I don't care what sort of insane shenanigans I have to put up with.

I will graduate and then never, ever come back to Muncie ever again.

Welcome to the Line Police

So I've been reading my old blogs lately. 

They really, really suck. I was terrible at writing and at attempting to be funny. Past Danielle is kind of a moron. A moron who spent too much money and left me in poverty. 

But, yeah. My old blogs. Are the worst. I mean, I'm not going to delete them because they're fascinating in a morbid and horrible kind of way. But, seriously. It is embarrassing to read them and think that, at one point, they were the product me actually trying my best. 

Ugh, past Danielle you financially irresponsibly moron. 

So I need to add a new part of my job title. 

In addition to being Danielle, stir fryer extraordinaire, I am now also Danielle, the line police. 

Let me explain. Yesterday at work, two of the football players came up at about the same time. I only had one skillet open. So, like the mature adults that they are, they both started bitching at me about being there first. I told them to figure it out themselves. I am a stir fry cook, not a line monitor. 

Five minutes later, they were still talking over each other and shoving like five-year-olds. It was stupid. 

I proposed rock-paper-scissors, but that was apparently too much of a game of chance. Eventually I just started cooking one of them and ignored the cries of dismay. 

It was so annoying! I don't get paid enough to stir fry, let alone to settle petty disputes among college aged people. And seriously, peeps, you can't decide who gets to go next?

You are supposed to be adults! You are supposed to be adults with at least some of a college education! My little brother who is six and terribly sarcastic has better manners than you! 

I got really, really angry. Like probably unreasonably angry. I may or may not have yelled that them that they were really pissing me off and they needed to act their age or leave. 

Customer service, oh yeah. 

But, no, it's been kind of simmering just under the surface for a while now, though. I've had to say the stupidest things during my work with the football players. A list for your perusal: 

"No, you can't touch that! It's raw meat, you idiot!" 

"Please stop dancing and take your food." 

"No, you can't touch that either! It will burn you!" 

"No, I'm not on the menu." 

"Yes the olive oil is extra virgin. Congratulations you got me to say virgin. Good job. Must be a quite an achievement for you." 

"I don't care if you're hungover, I can't make it cook faster." 

"I'm not going to take your order if you sing it at me," 

And that's just from, like, the last two weeks. I hate the football players. They suck. And are the worst. 

Ugh. 

But, outside of work everything is mostly fine. I'm still living off of ramen and canned vegetables, but I'm kind of getting used to it. You can make ramen fancier by adding vegetables. 

It's, like, poverty-shic. 

Today in my sociology of gender class the professor asked if anyone wasn't planning on getting married. I was the only one who raised my hand. In a class of like two-hundred people. It was really awkward because the professor asked me to explain why. 

Explaining the fact that I am antisocial and could not spend all of my time with one person without murdering them was kind of hard to explain. In, like, a sociologically relevant way. Also in a way that did not make me sound insane. 

Okay, I think that's a good note to leave on. 

Or, as good as it ever gets around here. 

This Blog Brought to You By the Letters X and O

I'm back! Back at school, I mean. I didn't actually go anywhere or anything. I just didn't have like anything to blog about because I was doing literally nothing with my life. 

No things. None of the things. 

But now I'm back at school doing the things and stirring the fry and so now I have material. 

Yay for material. 

Not so much yay for what the material contains, but the, like, presence of material is a good thing. I guess. See this is the problem with having a depressing blog. If depressing things happen, you get weirdly happy about it because now you have stuff to blog about. But also it sucks because there are fleas in your couch and you have to throw it away. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Let's start with the flea thing. My apartment was completely infested with fleas this summer. I left it for a few weeks to do vacation things and when I came back BAM! FLEAS! 

There were so many. 

So many. You literally cannot fathom how many fleas were in my apartment. There was a flea army. A literal army of militarized fleas living in my carpet fibers. The level of fleas was well over 9000. IT WAS HORRIBLE.

I had to throw away my couch and my ugly orange chair. I loved that chair. It was so ugly. I freaked out so much about the fleas that I lost my voice, regained my voice, developed a temporary stutter and then threw up. 

I REALLY HATE BUGS, OKAY? Even though they are mostly gone now, the traumatic memories remain. Like, haunting me and shit. 

 They bit me and got in my sock drawer and got all up in my socks' business. 

Long story short, I now have no socks to wear to work. 

Oh! Oh! Speaking of work, I got a nametag! Yay! Also a locker! I hope I don't lose them as punishment when my boss sees that I have no socks. 

I am so excited about those two things though. Also I am excited because my boss says the football players may not be coming back this year. I do not hate football players. I just...dislike them. A lot. Like, probably more than is healthy?

They just make my job SO HARD and SO STUPID. 

Granted, a lot of my job is stupid anyway, thanks to myself and my behavior. Also my puns. I am more proud of my puns than I should be, I think. When I am an adult with an adult job, I will probably have to reduce the amount of puns, old memes and geeky references that pepper my speech. 

I think they make me sound totes mature and respectable and shit. Society...seems to have a different view. Whatever. Society is stupid. 

Trust me. I have most of a sociology degree. 

I am a professional. 

Blah. I have like two hours before my next class. I was going to play skyrim, but I forgot to bring my mouse. And you can't play skyrim with a trackpad. You just can't. 

I hate first day classes. They are awkward and stupid. All we do is go over syllabuses. And studiously avoid making eye-contact with anyone. Though, I'm starting to think the eye-contact thing might just be me. Maybe. 

Gah, I am so weird. 

Like, I was excited to go back to work. How strange is that? My job is literally one of the worst jobs ever and I missed it. I think I have Stockholm stir fry syndrome. It is what happens when you are forced to stir the fry so often that you before weirdly dependent on it. And also the money it provides. 

But mostly just the stir frying experience. 

Hmmmm...what else can I tell you...

I went to a bar the other night. I was weird and awkward. No one was surprised. I utterly failed at trying to make guys buy me drinks. It might have something to do with the fact that I didn't wear my glasses so I just sat the the bar being unable to see and making weird faces in an attempt to somehow improve my eyesight. 

It did not work. Glasses suck. 

And as my dad always says, guys don't date girls with glasses. 

My dad is really good at accidentally insulting people while trying to compliment them. I call it at complisult. That sad thing is, he's always legitimately trying to be nice. My dad is a nice person. He doesn't say mean things about his kids. But when he tries to compliment them...

"You look really good from far away!" 

"You look so much better without that goop on your eyes." 

"You actually sound like a grown-up over the phone!" 

And of course...

"Guys just don't date girls with glasses, Danielle!" 

I'd say it makes more sense in context...but it really doesn't. I like my dad, he is the best dad. But sometimes...he is just bad at saying words. He's started doing this thing where he nudges me when a boy even remotely close to my age walks by and whispering "Danielle!" like I might not have noticed the college-aged male human in my proximity. 

Yes dad, I see him. Yes dad, he is my age. No, I am not going to attempt to jump him. Why? Oh, because it's weird that you're pointing out random dudes. Like, really weird. 

Ugh, my family. My little brother, who is like six, has his own version of complisults. 

He doesn't compliment people, oh no, he insults them. He just does it really, really, really specifically. It comes out complimentary because it's like, really? That's the biggest issue you came up with? Wow, I must not have many faults if you had to dig that deep. 

The other day he told me "You don't do well in school!" 

Uh, okay. 

And he told my brother "You're really sensitive!" 

I've been told that ladies like a sensitive guy. 

He told my mom, "You breathe too loud!" 

That's what you're going with? You're going with breathing volume?

I think it's really funny. It's one of the few super mean behaviors that I didn't teach him myself. He came up with it all on his own. 

I am so proud. 

In other new, I am worried that I am ruining my little brother. He is way too sarcastic for his age. Like, most six year olds are not sarcastic. It's just kind of obvious. But my little brother spends most of his time around me and my two other college-aged siblings. 

Yeah...he's picked up a few things. I'm pretty sure he's the only one in his first grade class who regularly uses the word "douche" and the phrase "look at this asshole" to describe people. 

I brought him to his meet the teacher night and we literally sat in the corner all night and snickered about the other kids. Who were all six. 

I am horrible. 

But I'm also hungry. 

So I think I'll go fetch a snack before class. 

XOXO Gossip Girl

(But actually Danielle.)

(Shit, is that XOXO thing like trademarked? Am I gonna get sued?) 

(Gimme a sec...okay, uh, disclaimer? I am not affiliated with Gossip Girl. Or the CW. Or the letters X and O. Okay, that should take care of it.) 

Welcome to the Dark Side

So I wrote a paper last night. 

It was pretty spectacular, guys. It had a lot to do with murders and murderers because I am a criminal justice major and those are things that we write about. I finished it before dawn this morning, so that was a nice change of pace. Got like five whole hours of sleep. 

It was awesome. 

But, anyway, now my internet history is full of searches for murderers. I downloaded pictures of murderers to use on my powerpoint. I'm really glad that no one is sneaking peeks at my internet history. Not just, like, last night, but like always. 

My internet search history is just so embarrassing. 

And it's not even embarrassing for the usual reasons! It's just...ugh, let me give you an example. My last five searches are like "murderers who were under 18," "which alcohol tastes the least like alcohol?" "are colorblind people allowed to drive buses?" "hairstyles for people with glasses" and "best grad schools for writing, sociology, law, criminal justice..." and that list goes on for a while. 

My internet searches are not internet searches. They are stories. Each one has some weird incident attached. 

There's also, like, time stamps involved so you can see just how much time I spend on certain websites. It's embarrassing to admit that you spend, like, three hours a day on pinterest. Or to realize that you spent four hours last night reading dumb internet comics. 

It's bad, guys. I really hope that no government agencies are looking at my internet history. I bet they'd just look at each other and be, like, "Wow. This person is such a loser, I bet she has no friends." 

Preach it, government agents. Preach. It. 

So I have to give a speech in a little while over that paper I wrote last night. I'm excited. There is a room of people who have to listen to me talk for like twenty minutes. And they are not allowed to leave. 

Hehehehehe. 

It's great because I don't measure the success of my speeches in grade-form. I measure it in the number of times I am able to make a room full of people laugh at me. Or with me, whatever. I'm not really all that picky. 

I don't know why. I doesn't make any sense. I don't talk, like, ever in this class that I'm giving the presentation for, but give me a reason to get up in front of the class and I transform into a stand up comedian. And I'm a girl, so that's no good. 

Women comedians are the opposite of funny. 

I'll let you know how it goes. It might be great. It might be awful. It might be a little of both. I don't know. It's for my ethics class. Ethics are dumb and boring.

Boo ethics. 

Anyway, I'm in class right now. It's boring, hence the blogging. And  there is a random girl in here who just won't stop talking. The class has devolved from a lecture into a dialogue between this one student and the professor. 

The whole class is just sitting here watching the two of them with vaguely bemused expressions.

Some people...they have no self awareness, let me tell you. I am flawed, I am like super flawed, but I'm more or less aware of it. I know that I have issues. I know that I will monologue at a class today and get, like, zero of my points across. I know that about myself. That is a thing I know. 

I could go on. You know how all heroes have a dark side? Harry Potter had the fact that he was a horcrux. Frodo wanted to keep the ring. Batman has dead parents. You know, dark side stuff. 

Well, I too have a dark side. A dark side called Group-Leader-Danielle. Group-Leader-Danielle is everything bad that has ever existed about my personality. GLD (that's the acronym we're going with, okay?) emerges whenever there is a group project. It doesn't matter if it's like semester-long or ten-minutes long. GLD will emerge and do her best to seize control. 

It is so bad. 

I hate group projects. You can't even understand how, just, completely terrible I turn when group projects are on the table. 

This paper I wrote was supposed to be a group project. I went to the professor and asked him very nicely if he would let me do out by myself because I didn't want to subject anyone to the horror that is doing a group project with me. 

The only valid ideas? My ideas. The way we're going to do the powepoint? My way. No one ever tells me to be group leader, I just seize control. I am the Vladimir Putin of group projects. I will use whatever underhanded tactics I deem necessary to get my way. 

I like to think that I've become fairly chill since high school. My temper is manageable now. I barely ever throw foodstuffs at random passerbys in fits of insane and uncontrollable rage nowadays. I've injured, like, only four people in angry slap-fights this year. So...chill. It is a thing I am. 

Group-Leader-Danielle is not chill. GLD is the opposite of chill. GLD is about as chill as Krakatoa. If anything goes wrong, an eruption of hate and name-calling and possible physical pain is going to occur. 

And I can never admit that I might be the one it the wrong. I aggressively argued that there were five ninja turtles, not four, because I made a typo one time. That's a real story. That's, like, an actual thing that happened. 

So its bad. Its one of the reasons that I should never be in charge of anything ever. Like, ever. 

The fact that I'm aware of it changes nothing. I can't stop it. No one can stop it. Group-Leader-Danielle will not be contained. 

Anyway. 

In stir fry news...I will be stirring the fry again next year. I just signed up for my shifts. And because I've worked there for over a full semester now, I get like a five cent pay increase! So now I won't be making minimum wage. I will be making five cents above minimum wage. 

I am moving up in the world. 

But, in order to fulfill my basic needs like summer, like food, rent, power, wifi and netflix...you know, Maslow's hierarchy stuff...I am going to need to find some sort of job. 

Ugh. 

I do not want to get a job other than stir fry. I like doing stir fry. Stir fry is fun. Plus, I only have to work twenty hours a week. I do not want a real-person job where I have to work forty hours a week. 

I might just see if I can live this summer on my leftover money from this year. I might have to cancel my wifi and eat literally nothing but bread and ramen noodles, but I could do it. 

I'm going to go full Walden, guys. Be all isolated. Don't use the internet. Eat ramen and cheese sandwiches. That was Walden, right? The one with the ramen? 

 Sometimes I think that I'm one like or as short of a simile. I'm a metaphor, guys. And no one wants to be a metaphor. 

No one.

Modifications and Mediocrity: The Danielle Story

I didn't have to wear a coat today, guys. 

It was a strange experience. I felt like one of those slim fast adds where a person loses a bunch of weight, but in this case it wasn't a bunch of weight. It was two jackets and a coat. 

I don't know. I'm pretty sure the weather is lulling me into a false sense of security. I'm going to get used to wearing short sleeves and then BAM! zero degrees again.

Indiana is sneaky like that. It lures you in with promises of corn and high obesity rates, but before you know it you're walking to work in zero degree weather and the sidewalks are super sub-par because Muncie is literally one of the worst places on the planet. 

Living here is kinda funny in the way that women comedians are funny...so, not actually funny and more just uncomfortable. And there are lots of jokes about "that time of the month" wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And you keep looking at the clock and wondering if you should leave or just stick it out and get sloppily drunk because, let's face it, there is no way you are getting through this evening sober. 

And...that metaphor got away from me a bit. Moving on. 

So, I saw some people from high school this weekend when I was judging speech state this weekend. While I was there, I crushed the dreams of like a hundred children. It was a super rewarding experience...five out of five, would recommend. But, no, I saw a bunch of people who go to places like IU and Purdue and they're super proud of their colleges and their life choices. 

And whenever somebody asked them about school, they had exciting things to talk about and large amounts of school pride to display. Whenever somebody who went to Ball State was asked about school, they would sigh rather sadly, look out a rain-streaked window and shake their head slowly as they thought about the long past springtime of their youth. 

Spoiler alert...that was me. I was the one staring despondently out the window because Muncie is secretly a gateway to the underworld. 

Moral of this really stupid and rambling story: Do not trust Indiana or its weather. Do not trust.

But, no. There are so many things I was supposed to do this spring late winter break. And somehow I managed to not do any of them. Literally none. I am a winner. At life. And at making terrible choices.

Spring late winter break was weird guys.

So I bought skyrim for my computer. And...Welp. That sentence pretty much sums up my whole break.

For those if you who are woefully uniformed, Skyrim is a video game (or, let's be real, beautiful, cinematic adventure that is a landmark in both storytelling and awesomeness) where you get to fight dragons. 

What's better than fighting dragons? 

Oh, that's right. Literally nothing.

But, yeah. That's what I spent my break doing...exploring Skyrim and murdering dragons. 'Twas an epic quest, let me tell you. 


And that would be fine and all but, I get way too into things. 

It's a pretty basic component of my personality. If there is a normal-person level of liking things, I will at least triple that. If I has just a tad less self-awareness and a tad more money, I would buy or fashion skyrim armor and wear it on the daily. 

(I get like this about a lot of stuff, guys. Like, a lot of stuff. I am not a well-adjusted adult. I named my cat after a fictional space marine.) 

But...yes. I am way too into this game right now. Unhealthily so. There are these things called mods that make pretty minuscule changes to the game. I've downloaded like five dozen, just, graphics mods. They change completely random things like making the colors slightly more vibrant or the stars a little brighter or the texture on the grass more dense.

I have wasted hours on that shit. And that's not even starting in on the stupid mods that do stuff like make the enemies curse when you punch them. I found one that puts monocles and tophats on all the mudcrabs.

They are hella classy, yo.

And speaking of things that are hella classy...

I finally finished all of the apple juice wine in my fridge. So...I no longer have to triple check my apple juice before being sure it is in fact apple juice and not wine. 

Ugh. Guys, I hate wine. Even apple juice wine. It is just gross. 

Also, it seems that "apple juice wine" is a legitimate phrase that I am using. I am at a point in my life where I say that and I am referencing an actual thing.

I am...a hot mess. Cold mess? Lukewarm mess. Feels about right. 

Speaking of my appearance and its temperature, I am about five-hundred percent done with, like, having hair. I hate my hair. It is stupid and too long and, like, four different colors because of all the times I've dyed it. 

Maybe I should just shave my head and be done with it. 

Would I look good bald?

No.

Would it be worth it anyway?

Possibly.

Ugh. Life is actually horrible. I hate college and also Muncie. I hate dealing with people and things. People and things are terrible. I just want to become a professional writer and make up stories about people who are way more together than me.

Real life is so dull.

The mud crabs are tiny and they have no top hats. Also, the only way to improve graphics here is to wear my stupid hipster shades.

Ugh. Modifications needed guys. So needed right now.

How (Not) to Make Good Life Choices

The weather's up to double digits, you guys.

 #heatwave

There is supposedly a giant monster storm headed my way next week. So...that sucks. I almost want to have kids someday for the sole purpose of telling them I walked miles uphill in the snow to go to school and work. 

Because I legitimately do! There are hills involved in my walk. I have a hole in my favorite pair of shoes. I own a newsboy cap. I am essentially an orphan in the 1930s. 

So...valentines day is coming up.

Ugh.

I happens to be the weekend after my birthday. I plan on going up to Purdue and going to the bars with my friends. It's probably really sad that going to bars is less unhealthy than my usual coping methods. They involve me literally hiding under my bed and eating a pint of ice cream while listening to I Can't Make You Love Me on repeat. For hours.

Eh...I actually care less about the whole perpetually-single thing than I used to. I mean, even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't know what to do with him. I'd be like, "hey there, significant other! is it cool if we only see each other three days a week or whatever? and when we do see each other, is it okay if I mostly ignore you?" Because seeing the same person every day of the week for hours at a time...ugh. 

That sounds all kinds of horrible. 

Moving on...I made the executive decision last night to not sleep. I had to read, like, twelve court cases for my sociology of law class and write summaries and critiques on them. You know, it would have been fine if I would of started right when I got off work at 9. But I decided that watching a documentary about killer whales on netflix was something that I had to do before I could start. 

I don't know. It wasn't a good life choice. 

But, yes. I didn't finish until like 6 in the AM, so I just didn't sleep. Again, I don't know why I did that. It was another poor life choice. 

When I got home from classes at 1, the coffee wore off  and I just crashed. It was almost embarrassing. I don't think I've ever been as happy to see anything as I was to see my bed after I got home. And when I say I completely crashed, I mean it. I slept for seven hours with my coat, hat, gloves, shoes and backpack still on. 

When I woke up, I was very confused. I didn't know where I was. My scarf was sort of choking me. I was sort of sure I'd been kidnapped. 

I don't know why anyone would want to kidnap me, honestly. I have no money and no marketable skills. Other than my ability to cook stir fry. Someone might kidnap me for my stir fry skills. 

Anyway, speaking of my job...when I get bored at work, I like to do weird stuff with the food in my line. It's not creepy weird, it's just strange. Like, I'll make towers out of country fried steaks or see how many frozen shrimps I can stack on top of each other. 

(My record is five.) 

But, no. Yesterday I built a tiny and adorable little city out of corn on the cobs. Or, erm, corn cobs, I guess is what normal people call them. Whatever. I had my corn on the cob city and it was great. I decided that its name was Cornatopia. And, I don't know, I thought that was really, really, extremely funny. 

I had to go sit down in the store room for a little while because I couldn't stop laughing and it was alarming people. Nobody else could seem to comprehend just how funny it was. Cornatopia. It's just...I don't even...it's so funny! How can you not laugh helplessly about that for like a quarter of an hour?

I'm not the weird one here. 

This isn't the first time my emotions at my job have succeeded at making others uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I cook things that have onions in them my eyes will water. My customers, who are mainly high schoolers, always get really freaked out and try to talk to me about my feelings. 

Sometimes, I tell them about the onions. Other times, I just roll with it and let random sixteen year olds go all therapist on me. 

I am not a good person. 

I am also a person who really needs to go make some circus waffles with my circus waffle maker. You see, I was far too busy sleeping today to eat. So...yes. I'm off to do that. 

A Missive from the Executive Director of Stir Fry Affairs

Well, hi there. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Things have happened, guys. So many things. 

The most relevant of those things is that I've started a new class that's really boring with a really boring professor whose only redeemable factor is that he allows me to have my computer while he drones on about criminal justice whatnot. Hence the back-from-the-dead blog. 

But, no. Seriously. I've had things going on. So many irons in fire. So many. 

I got a job. So...that's a thing. I'm in charge of all things stir fry from 4:30 to 8:30 every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday down at Elliot dining. I also do dishes sometimes, but I'm more focused on the stir fry thing. I love cooking stir fry. I'm awesome and fantastic at it. 

I made up a job title for myself. I am a stir fry artist. Or the executive director of stir fry affairs. Not gonna lie...my boss does not appreciate these titles as much as he should. Mostly he looks tired and rolls his eyes. I'm great. I don't know what his problem is.  

I'm also in three online classes this semester. It allows me to bring my procrastination to impressive new levels. I can do all my classwork in my batman footie pajamas while watching cartoons and eating grilled cheese. 

You should all be jealous of my totally awesome life choices. 

Speaking of awesome life choices, I accidentally went waaaaaaaay over my data plan with my cellphone so...now I owe the phone company like 800 dollars. I would just like to say that this is totally not my fault. Ball State's wifi apparently has an aversion to, I don't know, actually working. So all of my awesome music listening is now threatening to bankrupt me. 

I mean, like, more than I've already been bankrupted. 

Lucky thing I have a job. 

I mean, I only got the job to buy myself a new computer. (FYI, I did buy a new computer. And it's awesome. I've played so many games on it. All the games.) But now it seems like my job will do what most other people's jobs do. You know, pay for my food and my rent and stuff. Ick. I hate being a vaguely responsible adult. 

My professor is off on a tangent about both kings and antibiotics. I...did not know those things overlapped, historically speaking. I also have no idea what it has to do with criminal justice. 

But I digress. I kind of haven't been paying even a little bit of attention. Like, I've been the opposite of paying attention. I've been actively trying not to absorb the information being presented. Kind of like I do when someone tries to explain a sport to me. 

I have literally no clue what goes on in any sort of sports game...tournament...thing. And I am proud of that. That is a point of pride for me. 

Moving on...

I turn 21 next month. And we all know what that means....

I can legally apply for a marriage licene in Mississippi without parental consent!!!

Wooo!!!

There's also the drinking and gambling bit, but I'm less excited about that. Drinking and gambling are things that require you to leave your totally awesome apartment and interact with society. And that's not cool, bro. 

Society sucks. 

Trust me on this, I'm a professional. I'm almost done with a sociology degree. Legit. One class left and then I can go and do whatever it is someone with a bachelor's degree in sociology does. 

Be unemployed? 

Continue to make stir fry? 

I wouldn't complain. I like making stir fry. I am the executive director of stir fry affairs.

Wow. Class is almost over. 

I probably should have payed attention. 

Alas, it is too late. And we should not regret the things we cannot change. Gandhi said that. Or something like that.

Probably. 

I should go. (hehe) 

Trashcan Ownership for Dummies

Happy end-of-summer, people. Though, the end of summer isn't all that happy, I suppose. So, less happy end-of-summer and more depressing end-of-summer.

The end of summer is depressing.

Hence the blog.

Gah, but seriously, it's been a while, hasn't it? How's everything been with you? How's your life going? How are your kids?

(Don't answer. I don't care.)

I moved into my kick ass apartment last weekend. So...that's a bit exciting. I have all sorts of non-matching furniture that I stuck inside of it and then pretty much called it a day. All of my friends with new apartments spent all summer collecting furniture and acessories and whatnot. I decided to not do that and instead spend the last week or so panicking.

It's been fun.

Mostly I stole furniture from unsuspecting members of my family and then spray painted it while they weren't paying attention. I also got some stuff from goodwill. And for everything I couldn't steal or goodwill, there was Walmart.

I bought a trashcan there yesterday. For some reason, buying a my very own trashcan made me feel like a grownup. Feeling like a grownup made me very depressed. I do not want to be a grownup. I want to exist in a perpetual state of immaturity and never pay back my stupent loans.

But on the bright side, I have a trashcan now.

But no wifi. That's the downside of Fort Danielle 4.0. There is no wifi until Tuesday. So...I've been bored. And depressed. And lonely. I can't waste all of my time online. I've had to find other ways to waste my time and they are far less enjoyable than mucking around on the internet.

Like, I actually cooked food that wasn't a grilled cheese sandwich. And then I cleaned the kitchen. And made tea. And then watched dvds and listened to cds....it was like the early 2000s.

Anyway.

My dawn-of-time-esque escapes aside, I started classes today. I'm taking four sociology classes and I love ALL OF THEM. It's such a shame that there's not exactly a clamoring need for more sociologists. If there was, I would so get a doctorate. I feel like the world would be a better place if I had a doctorate.

As it is, my more profitable major is likely where I'll end up pursuing a career.

Criminal justice. Woo.

No, but I like criminal justice. It's just that sociology is basically criminal justice with the part pertaining to criminals filtered out.

Yay! No criminals or risk of getting shot at!

I should go...I have another class today (personal finance...that class so doesn't deserve a woo.).  But once 'm done with that, I'm free to go back and chill in Fort Danielle 4.0, aka the Batcave.

Yeah. I am 100% a responsible adult-type person.

The Negative Effects of Mass Effect

In celebration of finals week, I've crafted this good old-fashioned video blog just for you! 

(don't tell the others)

Anyway, I hate finals. They suck and make me sad. I've been existing in a state of constant anxiety for the past like month. 

But instead of doing anything to relieve this anxiety like, I don't know, studying I've just been taking a lot very discouraged naps. 

Sigh. One day I'll be a fully functional and responsible adult. You'll see. You'll all see! 

Until then...have a video blog. 

A vlog, as it were. 

So, there's that for you. I would write more, but, you know...finals. 

(Protip: When you want to go play video games, but don't want to be rude, just say finals. Trust me.) 

The Five People You Meet During Finals Week

I hate everything. 

I should probably clarify that...

It's finals week, I'm stressed and the best I have to deal with my stress is to convert it into rage and then direct that rage at people I don't know. It's perfectly healthy, probably. 

Well, now that we've gotten my trademark negativity out of the way...it's time for another list-based post! 

Yay! 

Here it is...

The Five People You Meet During Finals Week

1. The Substance Abuser 

The Substance Abuser is easy to spot. They'll usually be dressed in sweatpants, a backwards baseball cap and sunglasses, no matter what time of day it is. Colloquially, they're also known as douchebags. They probably have a low GPA and a parent willing to pay for them to screw around at college.

 And I guarentee that they will spend most if not all of finals week drunk of their ass. They may or may not come and actually take their finals and if they do, they will either be drunk or hungover. Avoid these people at all costs. They tend to be persuasive enough to make you think that drinking an entire bottle of vodka totally counts as studying for your chemistry exam. 

2. The Insomniac 

The Insomniac should be avoided at all cost. Not because they pose any significant threat to your own finals week performance, but because they're really, really annoying. At 8 AM on the first day of finals, the Insomniac has already gone three days without sleep and is already seven cups of coffee deep. And why, you ask, do we know this? Simple. We know this because they WON'T FREAKING SHUT UP ABOUT IT. 

It's finals week. Everyone is tired. Everyone is dealing with less sleep...we really don't need you demanding that we compare sleep schedules with you. If the Insomniac spent more time actually studying and less time chugging espresso, they would get done studying with plenty of time to catch a nap before their first final. 

3. The Media Maven

Thankfully, most of us manage to buckle down and shut up during finals week. Not the Media Maven, oh no. They are determined that absolutely everyone in the entire world must know all the intimate details of  what they're doing to prepare for finals. When they start studying, they must post about it on facebook. 

And twitter. 

And their blog. 

They may even take a picture of their notes/study guides/computer and post it on instagram with a caption like "studying loll! #YOLO" Why do they post that they're laughing out loud about studying? I like to think they're laughing because they know we all know that they aren't actually studying because they're too busy posting about studying to study. In actuality, they are probably just programed to types "lol" after every single thing they post. 

4. The Super Nerd

We all know and hate the Super Nerd. Not only have they turned in every assignment and every extra credit assignment and aced every test, they probably have published articles in whatever field they're studying. They're the kids who have terrible glasses, un-ironic kitten sweaters and headgear. They're also the kids who will likely be your boss someday. 

They live for finals week...finals week for them is like hanukkah for Jewish people. It's the one week a year that society acknowledges the thing they're good at (be it knowing the answers on tests or knowing all the words to the "Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel" song). The Super Nerd is ready to kill it this week...they have their study guides color-coded and prepped for action. 

They're going to get 100% on every single one of their finals and ruin the curb for the rest of us. 

5. The Black Hole

We all reach this point. You've studied and studied and you just can't take it anymore. No matter how much knowledge you pour into our brain, it all just seems to leak out. You, my friend, have become a Black Hole. Nothing can escape the soul-sucking despair that has come over you. Not study guides, not sparknotes, not even time. The last few hours before your final slip past and all of the sudden you're stuck in the exam room staring down at a test that you know none of the answers too. 

You do the best you can and go home where you'll sit, sucking up all the joy. After a few comatose hours spent drooling on the couch and watching cartoons, the Black Hole will stop sucking up joy and become a normal, underacheiveing college student again. Finals week will be over and, while you probably failed half your tests, at least you don't have to do it again for a while. 

So...there's that. Be on the lookout for these kids...they'll make an already hellish week all the more hellish. 

Good luck on your finals...and also on hanukkah, Jewish folks...

Hell is Other People (And Big Feet)

Hey there...Danielle in Sociology class here.

I'm so bored. So, the other day my biology professor just said that there's "no way to escape learning." For one, that sounds rather frightening. Are you going to hunt me down and force me to read a textbook at gunpoint?

 "You will learn, defiant student!" 

"No, no, please! Anything but that! Anything but learning!" 

"Learn or I shoot!" 

"Give me ignorance or give me death!"

 Two, I so totally can. Haha, I defy you, biology professor! I should be listening to the lecture...instead I'm writing a devilishly amusing blog! Learning, ha...school is for chumps.

So...my ongoing quest for college-friends has hit another tiny bump. This bump, unlike the others, is not due to my undeserved sense of superiority or my unwillingness to ever leave my room. This bump is made entirely of social awkwardness. And also feet. 

It happened this morning. I was on my way to class, listening to my music, just as chill as you please. I was like a normal human for five seconds almost. Then I tripped over my stupid feet. A boy who was walking near me glanced over and said something along the lines of "are you okay?" 

Now this is the point where most normal humans would nod and laugh or thank the kind stranger who had taken in interest in their present predicament. Not me. Nope. I will not settle for normal, comfortable social interaction. Instead I shouted the words, "Big Feet!" at him. 

Smooooth. 

I do have fairly large feet. They're size 12. My feet are not petite. When he looked confused and a little embarrassed, I decided to do the idiotic thing and keep talking. "I have big feet...I was, I was talking about my feet. They making walking a rather difficult endeavor." 

When he remained silent, I assumed that I should keep going. "Yeah...so I was talking about my feet. Not your feet. All thought, you know what they say about guys with big feet!" 

Once time travel is invented, I am using it to go back to that moment and shoot myself. I'm not kidding. 

Keep in mind, that I had headphones in for all of this so I was practically shouting these things. It was suuuuper. 

After an awkward half-bow half-curtsy deal, I scrambled up and used my big feet to get the hell out of there. So...that was my Tuesday.

Anyway, I've updated my blog. It's now DDB 2.0 (Danielle's Depressing Blog Two-Point-Oh). No gonna lie...it's pretty bitching. (I'm going to bring back the word bitching. I feel like it's going fairly well at this point.)

So...this school's temperatures are Dante's Inferno-themed today. My dorm room is literally the hottest place I have ever been. My Bio class is about the same temperature. But my sociology class decided that it was going to be different. My Bio class decided to be the ninth circle of hell today. For those of you not in the know, that means that my bio class (and the ninth circle of Danielle-hell) is really, really, really cold.

Also, Judas might be here. I don't know yet.

How am I supposed to dress for these ever-fluctuating temperatures? Wear short shorts and a parka? Snow pants and a tank top? 

Maybe the hipster I saw the other day with jeans, no shirt and a beanie had the right idea. Ha, as if. Hipsters never have the right idea. Expect being hit by buses. That's a right idea, all you hipsters out there. Think of the volume of people who get hit by buses. Not very high, right? Right. So, you'd be super un-mainstream. 

You're welcome, world. Thanks to me, Danielle L Renckly, there are no more hipsters. They were all hit by buses...and died. 

I should go...there are probably a dozen or so people left on campus who I haven't made uncomfortable yet. That needs to be remedied.