Sunday, January 18, 2009

h-Okay. I haven't written in this thing in a while, mostly because I've been obscenely busy with (a)the first week of classes and (b) getting my apartment in order. (B) has not been completed yet, but a lot of it was accomplished over the course of the past week, especially Saturday. Zach and I spent a lot of money at both Target and Tops, and bought a bookshelf, random household accoutrements, and a shit-ton of groceries. Our cupboards are stocked, almost to bursting. Anyway, that's not interesting. Zach had to go to his parent's house for the day to help his dad install a new computer and I have been puttering around the house for a few hours. I don't have any homework yet besides a small amount of reading, so I didn't have much to do.

Oh, I should mention that before Zach left he got one of our recently copied keys jammed in the lock and after much swearing and pounding on the door...he still couldn't get it off. Naturally, I ordered him to go to his parent's house so I could figure it out. Which I did. Don't ask how, but I took the entire lock off the door and pulled it apart, jiggled the key around, pulled on it with all my might (and a pair of needlenose pliers) and somehow I finally got it out. The question is, did I put the lock back on? Yes, and completely successfully. Apparently I am pretty handy when Zach isn't around to make me nervous.

Yes, today was a day of broken locks, Jon and Kate plus 8 (my other secret shame, besides Hot Tamales re: my previous post) re-runs and a supremely relaxing shower. Ahh...too bad it's 10 goddamn degrees outside. You've got to love Buffalo in the winter. 

Thursday, January 8, 2009

a touch cheerier today

The mood has passed. Like a kidney stone, although I imagine less painful, having never experienced one myself. I did think I had a stone this summer, but it turned out to be just a happy little kidney infection kicking its way into my right kidney. Um, WOW, huge digression there. Anyway, I couldn't sleep, read a book, read another book, finally fell asleep at approximately four in the morning, and woke up this morning to Winston the cat snuggling up to my legs and purring (if this is not the most pleasant way to wake up, I don't know what is) (wait, nevermind...) and a phone call from Zach (at work!) who spent twenty minutes cheering me up with various voices and inside jokes. If anyone heard this phone conversation, they may think it took place between two severely mentally ill people. They may not be wrong.

Anyway, I feel better. I am sitting on the loveseat in my living room and watching the snow fall, with Winston curled up next to me. He is, truly, the laziest cat in the world. But I love him. I don't think anybody actually reads this blog, so I don't know why I am reassuring no one that my mood is better and that I feel fine. Maybe it's just for my own benefit; I'm not entirely sure. The fact of the matter is that law school applications are not due until March 1 for all the schools to which I am applying, so I do have time. 

I spent most of today reading various Little House on the ________ books. You know, Laura Ingalls Wilder and all that jazz. I've read these books since I could read when I was about five, and they are just comfort reading to me. Some people have comfort food, I have comfort books. 

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

re: my last post.

Yes, I know that compared to a lot of people, my problems are minimal. Yes, I know that I have a fairly easy life. But I feel like shit today, so I'm going to wallow in it. 


This post is going to be a little less lighthearted than the previous one, simply for the fact that I'm in a mood. Attribute this to my Time of Monthly Official Womanhood if you will, but I really want to talk to someone about it and the boyfriend is not awake, nor do I feel like disturbing him with my complaining about nothing, so here you are, lovely inviting clean blank computer screen. I know you well.

Anyway, today was just one of those days. I am waiting for one last professor to submit his letter of recommendation so I can finally get my applications in the mail for law school, and I've emailed him several times over the past few weeks and gotten no response. I wouldn't normally worry so much about something so seemingly trivial, but no law school will accept less than two letters of recommendation (at least the ones that I want to go to) and I currently have one. I also asked him in early October if he would write it, and he agreed. So I am freaking out, natch. In a moment of sheer desperation I e-mailed his wife (also, a professor of mine and coincidentally, my adviser) to ask her if she could remind him. She said she would, but I am still fretting like a fretting thing. Law school is my only option, because honestly, what in god's name am I going to do with a history degree? Be a historian? Ha ha and ha. In another moment of sheer desperation, I e-mailed another history professor to ask if it were any way possible for him to write me a letter of recommendation and be done with it by the end of January. I feel terrible springing this on him, he is a kindly old man-sort of professor but I am honestly at the end of my rope.

I use the word "honestly" an awful lot. I should try to remedy this. (end digression here).

So today has been shitty. I feel like a shaky bundle of nerves ready to burst into tears at the latest ASPCA commercial featuring Sarah McLachlan (I cry at this commercial regardless of my mood; I could be the world's happiest sonofabitch and then see this slideshow of sad, emaciated animals and immediately tear up). I am listening to sad-voiced Joshua Radin and generally being a teenage girl about this whole situation. It is important to note that I am not a teenage girl, I am a woman in her twenties (okay, I'm twenty-one) who should be capable of handling stuff. I'm not. 

Also, my hands look like hamburger meat. I should explain. My kitten Winston hates to be held, but he is oh-so-cuddly and soft and I just want to snuggle him all day. He does not appreciate this and pushes away from me with his sharp kitten claws. Ergo, my hands are covered in scabs. When I'm stressed, I pick. I'm fairly sure there's a disorder by this name. I pick until my hands are raw and it's absolutely disgusting. Why am I sharing this? Because no one I know knows that I have this blog. Ach, there's that word again. I thought I banished that in the first post. 

Anyway, I guess that's enough emotion-filled rambling for one post. I plan on popping a few tylenol pm and taking to my bed. Remember when people used to take to their bed? Why that is no longer acceptable, I'm really not sure. Sometimes you really just need to shut out the world.

My secret shame.

It's time to come clean about a problem that I have. What is this problem, you ask? Hot Tamales. Yes, the cinnamon chewy candies that have absolutely no nutritional value of any type that are often sold at movie theatres or, enticingly, in the checkout lines of your neighborhood grocery store. The grocery store was where they got me today. I just moved into a new apartment, as I said, and my mom said that she would buy me some basic groceries to help me out. Flour, sugar, the essentials. Now, it is important to note that both my mother and I have a major sweet tooth (sweet teeth?), so when we are in the checkout line, despite the fact that we are both fairly slim and try to eat right, we invariably end up each grabbing something from those racks of candy. My candy of choice today was the delicious Hot Tamale. The movie sized box was only one dollar, what a bargain!


I arrived home, my mouth watering at the prospect of some delicious Tamales. I popped a few. Yum. Some more. Delicious. More and more literally starts pouring from my ears, nose and mouth. Not literally, of course, but the problem with these tasty candies is that while they are delicious, they are very hot, especially when consumed in the mass quantities that I enjoy. You would think I would have learned my lesson, after complaining about my mouth being consumed with a massive burning sensation, but yet I continue to eat handfuls at a time. Zach refuses to allow me to buy them in his presence anymore, because it results in him being forced to listen to me whine and complain all night about my mouth. So, Zach-free for a few days, I thought ha! I will buy these delightful candies and enjoy an appropriate amount, and then save them for a later date.

The box is almost half-gone, my mouth is on fire, and I am still eating them. Lesson not learned.

Monday, January 5, 2009

First First

I've failed at every blog attempt I've ever made. I religiously read several blogs of people I don't actually know in real life (,, etc.) but I was never able to keep a consistent blog for more than a month or so. Um, so here we go. I guess this is like my 232rd attempt at keeping a blog.

Ugh, I really don't like the word blog, by the way. I just used it ... four times in one paragraph and I'm sick of it. Blech. Onward.

Here's some info about me, for all you nosey parkers. 

I am 21 years old. Oh, and I'm a girl. 

I am currently a senior at Canisius College in Buffalo, N.Y.

I plan to go to law school after I graduate, and am currently in the process of applying to several different schools around the Northeast. 

I have an amazing boyfriend named Zach that I recently moved in with after circumstances with my old roommates moved towards...not so good. We have a tiny little apartment in the Allentown area of Buffalo.

Zach and I plan on going to law school together. He is a year older than me and took a year off to work full-time. He is also a graduate of Canisius; we met at a Dropkick Murphy's show at Thursday in the Square about a year and a half ago.

I spent January to May of this year studying abroad in Galway, Ireland. It was incredible. While I was there, I was lucky enough to travel to London, England, Edinburgh, Scotland, Paris, France, Dublin and Cork (in Ireland, natch), Belfast, Northern Ireland, Rome, Florence, and Venice (Italy). It.was.awesome. To say the very least. 

I have a seven month old kitten named Winston. He's...really weird. 

I drive a ten-year-old station wagon, and I personally love it.

Well, that's about it for right now. Um, more to come when something exciting happens to me. Like...the cable guy coming to the apartment on the 12th! What a thrilling day that shall be. More then.