Name Me!

An event of hilarious proportions has slipped in between the birthday celebrations and finals week. Nathan and I have been on the lookout for a new car for awhile now, but not very actively. When my cousin offered to sell us his 1995 Neon for $80, we jumped on it. While it doesn't look like much, it actually runs quite well and has new tires, brakes, etc. It wasn't until a few days later we had one of those morning after moments. It took a lot of clorox, armorall, a couple seat covers, two kinds of air fresheners, and a deep, deep vacuuming session to start the bonding process. Now I need a name. The car definitely looks pissed off, you wanna see? Here's a pic:


So any ideas?

ohhh

I bought a method brand omop. I wanted to begin to use products that are green. I wanted to become a greener person for my world. And in case you didn't know, omop is an environmentally safe mop, made by method, which is a company that uses environmentally safe products...like the soap for the floor and the microfiber mop pad, also like detergent and shower cleaners and even candles and such. Anyway, I bought it in dreams of having a floor that was worth using it on. A floor that would shine my reflection back at me as I gazed longingly at it....but alas. My kitchen floor is hardly wide enough for the mop. In fact, it's a lot easier to just scrub the floor on my hands and knees. As I do so, Omop sits in the corner, watching, waiting. And as I get out the clorox and other various cleaners, he silently sobs in despair. If only my floor was worthy of him.



Here is the tagline that sold me:


"Making floors friendly to kids, pets, and white tube socks. This omop starter kit contains everything you need to take care of all the floors you love."

The problem, friend, is that I have no kids, my dog can't live with me (sadly, no pets aloud), and I know I don't own any tube socks. (sidenote: I hate socks) The beautiful wood floor in the picture? Not mine. And even if I did have all those things, I don't love my floor. My world, yes, but not my floor. Maybe someday, I'll have enough money to save said beloved world. But until then, its hands and knees and clorox products I use on my dreadful few square feet of linoleum.

Great Minds.....haha

Sometimes, at your darkest, most honest moments, you know you are crazy. But then, if this is true, what is crazy? Crazy=Normal.


Back me down from backing up
Hold your breath now it's stacking up
Etched with marks, but I can deal
And you're the problem and you can't feel
Try this on, straitjacket feeling
so maybe I won't be alone
Take back now, my life you're stealing


Trust you is just one defense
off a list of others, you don't make sense
Beg me time and time again
to take you back now, but you can't win
Take back now, my life you're stealing


Yesterday was hell
But today I'm fine without you
Runaway this time without you
And all I ever thought you'd be
That face is tearing holes in me again
but today I'm fine without you
Runaway this time without you
And all the things you put me through
I'm holding on by letting go of you


And when the memory slips away
There will be a better view from here
And only lonesome you remains
and just the thought of you I fear
it falls away


~This is why I love All-American Rejects. I'm not alone.

puzzling as life is

It's been a few days. I started a book study...something to do with emotional health. I'm glad I get to do it with the people I get to do it with, but it's not what I would've chosen to read for myself. Maybe that's a good thing though.

Anyway, I've had a lot on my mind lately. I feel as though there's literally a ginormous block of hickory wood balanced on my head. It hurts mostly at night, when I am laying down, and there's nothing to support my neck. At least it smells good.

Something different...I've been dealing with this love-hate relationship between me and polka-dots. Sometimes I really get them. They are so great, and I want them all around me. But most of the time they are annoying and I need to escape them, but I can't. They are in everything, if you look close enough. And I do.

Do you ever feel like you live your life as though someone were writing it? All of my thoughts have tag lines, it read this out loud, or better yet think it:
She thought to herself, "I wonder which way is faster?" and then she took the left sidewalk, because she hadn't taken it before.
That is how I think. So maybe I should become a writer. Maybe that is how writers think. But maybe not. Maybe I am just a little strange, a little weird. The best part is when I listen to my ipod and my personal theme music swells as I make my decision to take a new path. And although I'm surrounded by people, not one of them has a clue.

Thought Implants for Blogs

In reference to below, the little diver in yonder picture shall be me someday. Swimmin' with the fishes, as they say. No, not as a murder victim, no no. There's oxygen on my back, for my lungs. This is a picture straight out of my mind. History, earth's last frontier, and swimming shall come together in my last ditch effort to accomplish something in my allotment. On earth. Big e. Pay no attention to the copyright at the bottom of the picture. It means nothing.

Beware: Random Blog

Explore. The. World. In. All. Its. Grandeur. And. Complexities. And. Infinite. Possibilities.

i need an adventure in my life. i'm thinking of just up and going to alaska to become a crab-fisherwoman. if that doesn't work out, then maybe i'll just go to the black forest where the secret dwarf of doodles lives and he will grant me the power to doodle my way into the white house where i shall decree that all men and women shall take every third day off to learn how to become professional snowboarding delivery people so that everyone gets their mail, after all, it's hard to deliver that mail in the mountains, especially the alps. but i've never been. sometimes when you brew the stars on a clear night, heaven speaks its secrets, and only then can one clear up their foot fungus. i like bikes. soon i shall become the first woman to ever ride one.

Elevator Parade

I ride an elevator at least twice a day, and it seems that every time the lift stops on an unintended floor everyone on that floor stops what they are doing to stare at me. As if I am on parade and please, please look at the decorations! I spent a lot of time on them. I feel a bit stiff, as if I am probably one of the big floats with lots of streamers. And there must be something ridiculous about the colors or sounds or way I move, because until those doors slide ever so slowly closed, I am the object of countless people's attention. Of course, the elevator parade only lasts for a few seconds.

Here's a picture of what I may look like (on any given week day of course) to strange men and/or women when the elevator door slides open:


And here's what an elevator looks like: (don't let today's posers fool you, this is the real thing)

In case you were wondering, these happen to be the original plans for the safety elevator (not related to the safety dance, which I'm sure was what you were thinking.) It is very old, so be careful with it.

mmmmm...Cheerios

I'm supposed to be writing an assignment, but all I can think about is Apple Cinnamon Cheerios. Here's a picture of them in all their glory:

I'm also drinking apple juice, which I think enhances the natural apple-y essence in Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, while not drowning out the oaky cinnamon flavors that are subtly in each "o."

I should probably go write that paper....

You Catch, We Cook???

Being from Nebraska, I've never been much of a seafood eater. I've always been astounded that there are people out there who very choosily pick out their live prey from a tank and then sit quietly while the poor creature is boiled alive. Then they feast. Must be good eatin'.

light bulbs and love

Last week I went to Love Library and spent hours finding the perfect books for my anthro term paper. I thought of how responsible it was of me, and how I was going to get a head start on it during spring break.

...

So now I'm sitting here wondering why I left all my library books for my term paper (due next week) in a friend's dorm room, which is closed until Sunday. I'm pretty sure that means I'll have another sleepless night trying to be brilliant in a hurry. I'll probably look like this...except I am shorter, with longer hair and other notable differences....and I shall only be juggling light bulbs figuratively.

nonsensical thoughts laid in gold

I had this profound thought today. Maybe it's something not so epiphinatical (word?) to others, but it was pretty huge for me. I realized that I am different. That there is this astounding, pounding passion inside my body that is very vehemently and most recently, violently trying to get out. I see so many different colors, I hear so many colorful sounds. They fuse together and make my heart want to burst. I can't imagine going through life without it. What a mundane existence. I can see people as if they are putting off these colors and sounds, and even view my life in the past like that. I can see it in their faces, hear it in their voices, in their very breath. Emotions are the life-blood of a poetic soul. Of a musician. And sitting here blogging and listening to this music makes me want to get up and start walking towards something great and terrible at the same time. But I have no idea where to go or what to do.

I can't even imagine sleeping right now. My mind is like a machine that won't turn off. Clinking and grinding...it's loud! There's no way I could ignore this THING inside of me.

first at last

So I'm finally blogging. Everyone take note. I can be found elsewhere online, but prepare to hear random bubblings of my inner soul and such other things as can only be found here at rubbernecked.blogspot.com. I'm a traveler of ideas, an inquisitive soul. Yo.