Post(not so)Secret

I have a huge collection of postcards. Only 6 of them are postcards I haven't created myself. It all started with the first time I ever read a PostSecret book. It changed my outlook on life but I'm not going to go into the psychological stuff surrounding my postcard collection... I'm just going to show some to you. It started with an art project and then evolved into my daily journal.

I make 1 postcard every single day, without exception. I keep this year's cards in a Bare Escentuals box in my closet. Last year's are in a silver card case. Anyway... Sometimes they are actually secrets. Sometimes they are facts. Sometimes they are jokes. There is a wide range of emotions displayed in the postcards. I've only shared them with a few people. And now, I'm going to share some (not all, oh lord that would be bad) of them with you, internet (Rob).

(Just Kidding. Still at square one over here.)

(Seriously. Any time now.)

And so there you have it... some various postcards. These are all harmless... there are some much deeper darker ones and some much more embarrassing ones. But these give you some idea. I'd be glad to send you one.

Oooh, BURN!

This post is dedicated to my Flip-Flop tan. Yes, a tan. Don't act so surprised.

Nothing I put on my skin works. This is seriously the rule. If I put it on me, it instantly loses any and all effect. My facewash leaves me more greasy and broken out. My acne cream, which 2 years ago I didn't even NEED but then I started to have good skincare habits and wash my face and stuff and started breaking out like it was puberty all over again, has no effect on my titanium zits even though the stuff says 99% of people saw clearer skin while using it. (Longest sentence ever?) My moisturizer appears to only make me oily.

And now that it's summer, there are the added bonuses of bugspray and sunscreen. Which after yesterday I no longer believe should even exist, since they clearly are 100% ineffective. I went to a College World Series game yesterday. I sat outside in the hot sun for 6 hours in the Omaha heat, and let me tell you, it was hot as balls. I went with my friend Kara, who is pretty much as pale as I am, at least in the legs department. I applied sunscreen at 9:30am. We were in line until 11:30 or so, and then they let us into the ballpark. I reapplied as soon as we sat down. Then I reapplied every hour. And what was the result? This:

I can't even wear clothes now.

I read an article that says all sunscreen is basically the same after about SPF 45. That's what I was using. Which begs the question: WHAT DO I DO NOW?! I am on the hunt now for the world's best sunscreen, because this summer is going to be a summer full of baseball games, bike rides and barbecues. (wait, do I even own a bike? ...)

Also, is there anything I can start eating that will keep mosquitos from biting me? Because I practically dump Off! all over me and I woke up today scratching a bite literally the size of a penny.

Summer is making me her bitch.

Maybe that's my superpower... my skin instantly neutralizes anything and everything. Which is kind of a crappy super power.

Random Journal Prompts for the WIN!

So I located a website via StumbleUpon (have you used this? It's my favorite freakin' thing. I listed my interests as Baseball, Art, Writing and Mormonism so I get awesome stuff!) that lists 80 journal prompts and then subsequently 50 more. You can find it here: www.tomslatin.com/80-journal-writing-prompts/

But before I choose some of those, let me share my *facepalm* moment of the day. I went to Ted and Wally's today because HELLO, Passionfruit ice cream! And when the boy handed me my waffle cone filled with ice cream, he said, "Enjoy that." And what do you think was my response? "Thanks, you too!" Um... whoops. I shook my head and was like, what did that even mean? But I just walked away as though it was a legitimate response.

OK, onto the writing prompts!

What five websites do you visit often and why?

-stumbleupon. We've already sort of discussed this though.

-Facebook. DUH. I feel like that one's a given.

-postsecret. I am absolutely fascinated and a little addicted to reading other people's secrets. because I have so many of my own. In fact, I make a post card for every single day of the year. I might have to start posting them here.

-oneword. I love this site. It's so simple and so brilliant a challenge. 1 word, 60 seconds, don't think just write. Really makes you think.

-rdio. It's a music site. I have a subscription. $10 a month and unlimited music streaming of anything. Right now I'm into Vampire Weekend and Legally Blonde the Musical.

Have you ever done something just to feel the danger, or to feel alive?

Yes, I absolutely have. In fact, I do it all the time. I shouldn't even be saying any of this, but it's not like anyone even reads this anyway so what do I have to lose? I do things for the adrenaline rush all the time. Sometimes when it's dark I'll drive on back country roads with my headlights off just to see what it feels like, to see how long it takes me to get scared and turn them back on. Other examples I could give you would probably just be upsetting so I'll leave it at that.

Describe the most outrageous thing anyone has dared you to do.

When I was 13 or so, I was at a friend's birthday party sleepover and we played perhaps one of the most seriously hardcore games of "Truth, Dare, Double-Dare, Promise or Repeat." Most of us just kept choosing truth, and it was starting to get boring (although the questions were pretty harsh) so being the rebellious cavalier preteen I was (or wanted everyone to think I was), I chose DOUBLE DARE. My dare was, should I choose to accept it (and I HAD to, it was a double dare!) was to go over to the neighbor's house, ring the doorbell, and ask to borrow a bra. Now if today I answered the door and was asked by a little girl to borrow a bra, I would choke back a grin and say, "sure, do you want a sports bra or a regular bra? How about purple with lace? Does that work?" but at the time, I was absolutely mortified and thought that the police would likely be contacted due to the obscenity of the request. I stumbled over in my cupcake print sleep boxers and pink cami with built-in shelf bra and rang the doorbell, my T or D counterparts looking on. I felt an impending sense of doom, thinking this would be it... it was all over now. However, I was spared from any real agony when a nice middle aged woman answered the door. I choked out the phrase and she just smiled at me and asked "truth or dare?" I nodded, my eyes watering (my body's absurd alternative to blushing). She chuckled and said, "tell your friends I said no." I nodded, my knees still shaking and returned, not necessarily triumphant but still alive.

Describe your note-taking style and habits.

I wish I had a section of notes from something to include. My train of thought usually goes like this though:

-Legitimate statement

-Legitimate substatement, date, fact, name or person or place

-Legitimate statement

-witty twist on actual fact

(Sidenote in the margin)

(draw a picture of a whale on the bottom of the page)

(Oh, right, note taking!)

-Legit fact

-dates

-more dates

-Part of a legit fact

-something that makes no sense

(stop to send a text)

(draw a unicorn fighting the whale)

(oh crap... I need to pay more attention)

-Legitimate although confusing fact that would have made more sense if I was paying attention

-a date or place but no real explanation

(sigh)

(Class Dismissed)

How long have you been able to live off the grid? No e-mail, Internet, electricity, running water, etc.

About four minutes. Next question?

Describe a time in your life when you were lost (figuratively or not).

Literally I got lost in a Cracker Barrel restaurant when I was maybe 3 or 4.

Figuratively I've been lost most of my life.

OK, I think I'm done now. Namaste, beyotch.

The REAL Me

I was reading an article the other day and... what? I read articles all the time. I'm super intellectual. Don't look at me like that!

Anyway, it was about how women feel the need to hide parts of themselves in order to make their relationships work. This made me feel a few different things:

1. Do guys ever hide any part of themselves? Kinda doesn't seem like it, because they're always farting and checking out other chicks. And if they don't hide that, what kind of horrendous details ARE they keeping?

2. I am so guilty of this. I feel like I can't be myself around a lot of people because I will frighten them or repulse them or intimidate them or they won't think I'm smart enough or funny enough or pretty enough... or that I'm too smart and not fun... I have done this for years. All I want is for people to like me, even if it's not ME. I could get all psychoanalytic on your butts here and explain my deep-seeded desire for affection because... you know what? Never mind.

So you know what? Enough is enough. No more trying to make myself seem interesting or smart or desirable. Here's the real me. Think what you will.

My name is [insert whatever name you want here]. I'm in my 20's and am also in college, even though I'm not very good at it. I was born and raised in this great (bahahahaha) state of Nebrasky. I bleached a section of my hair blonde in high school because I thought it was cool, and I still think that. My pants are a size 12. My bra is a size 38DD. I have a cat that is horribly behaved and mean to everyone but I still think she's pretty much the cutest funniest thing in the world, even though that kind of makes me a junior crazy cat lady. I lay in my bed and make dinosaur noises on a regular basis. I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue but sometimes I get frustrated and just cheat. I think Geena Davis is possibly the coolest person to ever live. Tina Fey is the second coolest. One time I saw John Stamos on a plane and he told me I was pretty. Just kidding, I stole that from Mean Girls, which is one of my all time favorite movies. It's number 3, after The American President, which turns me into a mushy heap of political romanticism, and Chicago. I am obsessed with Musical Theatre and if I had my way I'd be on Broadway even though I'm not skinny enough or talented enough in real life. I am a computer snob and I can tell you 10 reasons my Mac kicks your PC right in the hard drive if you want me to. I'd have to think of them all first though. My iPhone is my life... it goes everywhere with me and if I didn't have it I'd probably cry. I wear vampire fangs in public, sing and dance in the car, and pretend I know how to use chopsticks even though I'm not sure I really do.

I'm overly emotional, I'm competitive and kind of a sore loser. Poor grammar drives me crazy. I have bipolar and while it's usually well-controlled, sometimes you can totally tell and I apologize for saying I wanted to shoot you in the face. I sort of meant it at the time but I don't mean it now. I can't sight-read music... or read it that well at all. I have no upper body strength and I'd probably trip over something and die if a zombie was chasing me.

My biggest turn-offs are people who don't understand my humor and automatically make it unfunny by saying something irrelevant, trying to correct me or stating the obvious (Hel-LO, that was sarcasm you moron!), people who think Obama wasn't born in the United States (Article 2 Section 1 of the UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION anyone?!), and people who make a lot of noise when they eat. I also think Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh should go screw themselves and/or each other and leave the rest of the world alone so we don't have to hear any more of their b.s. Bill Maher is kind of a tool too but at least he's a little bit smart.

Also I'm obviously a narcissist since I just spent this much time talking about myself. But that's the real me. Take me or leave me. (RENT for the win!)

My Swimsuit Makes Me Feel Like Lady Gaga, and Other Reasons I'll Probably Never Get Married

I am under the impression that I am never going to get married. There are several reasons for my thinking. Some are actually rational thoughts. Others may or may not be delusions based on general melodramatic tendencies coupled with a poor self-image.

1. I am a Rookie.

Basically, I've had one relationship in my lifetime and I've spent the last... oh... year and a half or so trying to forget it ever happened. So I consider myself to have no relationship skills or knowledge. Nobody that I'd like to date seems interested in dating me. Which brings me to my next point.

2. I attract the wrong kind of guys.

Here's a sampling of the guys who have showed interest in me in the past 10 years:

✎ Wore snow boots every day, wrote me notes containing Backstreet Boys lyrics.

✎ Turned out to be extremely gay.

✎ Wore Hawaiian shirts and cowboy boots every day, favorite movie was The Sound of Music, brought me a corsage to every dance even though he was never my date.

✎ 3 years older than me, got a 14 on his ACT and ended up shoving his tongue down my throat in the middle of the hall after school one day.

✎ Was borderline insane, probably suicidal, and cut my name into his arm once.

✎ Played the trombone, read Manga, didn't wash his hair, had a ferret and honked my boobs.

There was also an autistic boy in there but I can't complain about him because he was absolutely darling (and also that would make me a horrible person). Anyway, none of these guys were/are bad people. (Actually one of them might be.) It's just that I'm not interested in Manga, video games, spit valves or having my boobs honked. The guys I attract are the ones I have nothing in common with, and the ones that nobody else seems to have much in common with either. It's kinda frustrating.

3. I want it.

It's kind of like Hillary Clinton wanting to be president too badly (except not at all). I want to get married and therefore it will probably never happen. I want it too bad. I'm overzealous to the point of being scary. Actually I'm not yet, but the longer I want it, the more likely I am to become so. A lot of my friends are getting married right now too, and seeing them get their "happily ever after" just makes me want my own even more. I know that I'm really young and that there is no rush, but yeah there kind of is because the end of the world is only 567 days away...

4. I'm really socially awkward.

Not only am I not that attractive (I'm torn between thinking I'm kind of pretty and thinking I'm unfortunate-looking so I usually take the latter), but I'm also one of the most socially awkward people you will ever meet. Just today at work, I was in the bathroom and was singing "Pocket Full of Sunshine" and shaking my butt while drying my hands without even noticing I was doing it. I only noticed when I had to stop and ask myself, "why is that woman laughing at me?" Also, if you were to come into my room at 2am on any given night, there is like a 30% chance you'll see this:

My swimsuit makes me feel like Lady Gaga so I put it on to make a video for my best friend who lives far away, but then I got distracted. There's also a 45% chance that I'll be making dinosaur noises in my bed and a 15% chance I'll be coloring a picture in my underwear and a 4% chance I'll be singing "Friday" and playing the guitar. Which leaves only a 6% chance of me sleeping and/or acting like a normal person.

So who's gonna be crazy enough the marry THIS?:

Probably not someone that I'm going to want to marry, unfortunately.

Creating a Space

I can be kind of a wreck.

Okay, maybe wreck isn't the right word. Maybe I should say I can be kind of a hot mess. But recently I've made a huge effort to be more organized and, like, neat and stuff. So I overhauled my entire living space. I'm telling you... paint an accent wall apple green and suddenly you feel like you can deal with your life. Maybe that's just me... I don't know.

So I redid my space. I have a weird artist's quirk about personalizing things though. I always have to add my own little touches to things. My favorite thing is organized clutter. Feng-Shui is so not my thing. I have the innate desire to make things my own. Does anyone else do this? I honestly put a ton of effort into it. Here, I'll show you.

This is my desk. There's that little area near the edge that I've just graffiti'd the crap out of. Also please take note of my president placemat, my calculator with a dancing shark on it, my Jukebox the Ghost poster (signed!), and the J0-Bros calendar. I got those bookshelves at IKEA.

Now the personal touches. I put a picture of Geena Davis on the end of one of the shelves. What do you mean, why? Because she's AMAZING. Duh. The other has a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and a Wicked Witch of the West magnet. Like I said, weird personal touches.

This is my main bookshelf. Magazines and big books on the bottom shelf. Text books and references on the top shelf. Series on second to top. The rest is basically a free-for-all.

Zoom in on the top shelf and what do we find? Oh yes. A dinosaur scene. Again, what do you mean, why? Because dinosaurs are AWESOME. The next shelf down has lots of little ponies, and an eagle-shaped flask. Don't ask me to explain myself. It defies explanation.

So there you have it. Weird personal touches. The lamp by my bedside has a cutout of a male ballerina on it. My full length mirror has a bunch of Spiderman stickers on it. Nothing remains untouched.

I can only imagine what I'd do with a cubicle.

Pillows and Dreams

When I was a little girl, I asked my mom for a feather pillow. Not only did I want a soft downy pillow on which to sleep, I also wanted it to be encased in a luxurious satin pillowcase. I remember thinking to myself that this was a lofty expectation. At this point in my life I had a very specific plan. I was going to go to high school and ace every class, get a perfect score on the ACT & SAT's, work at a flower shop and be a cheerleader. Then I wanted to go to Harvard and be an actress, which for some reason didn't seem as lofty at the time as having a feather pillow with a satin pillowcase. It also seemed to make a lot of sense, which it obviously doesn't. Going to Harvard for Theatre makes about as much sense as going to AADA for Med School.

One day, I got home from school and there it was... my delightful new pillow. A goose feather down pillow covered in a shiny white satin pillowcase. I couldn't even wait to go to sleep that night... my dream had finally come true! I was on top of the world... I felt like now that I had gotten my pillow wish, any of my dreams could come true.

Fast-forward 12 years. I am sleeping on a flat, lumpy pillow stained yellow from someone's (presumably my dad's) oily head. I'm grudgingly continuing my education at the University of What the Hell Was I Thinking and my current plans? Marry rich and die young. Ok, while that would be nice (the marrying rich part), I'm actually planning on being a teacher. In which case I'll have to move to Connecticut because they pay their teachers WAY more than most states do. 10k more than Nebraska starting salary. So... not going to Harvard, not becoming an actress or the President, and sleeping on a lumpy old pillow with someone else's head stains.

I wonder if your pillow has anything to do with your dreams.