Pasta Thoughts

I’ve been thinking about getting back into this for a while. I had this grand vision in the summer of this basically being a diary for me, you know, the whole one entry a day deal, and basically tell about my life.

I dunno. My life is pretty boring. Maybe I’ll find other stories to tell?

When I should be doing Orgo (Organic Chemistry, a bitch of a class, for those “not in the know”).

It’s ok.

I’ll start Orgo soon.

Like now.

It was laying on the stairs. There was this graphic splash of creamy brown coffee surrounding it. The cup looked as if it had been dropped, while still full, from the floor above.

My first thought was, who would do that? It’s really not that hard to walk a bit down the stairs and maybe twenty feet over to chuck the cup in the trashcan. To just toss it carelessly (or maybe with glee, after all it would be fun to watch the fall) and leave it- I couldn’t understand it.

And everybody passing it! A girl in a sparkly turquoise halter top and too-tight pants glances down at the cup and moves to avoid the coffee so it won’t get on her Converse high-tops. (What an appalling sense of style.) A teacher, Mr. Martin, slicked his hand through his carefully gelled hair as he looked at the cup, also avoiding the spill itself. He kind of glanced at me, as to assure himself, “Oh, she’ll pick it up.”

And me. The worst one. I had contemplated all of this and had nurtured some righteous indignation at the litterbug in question, only to have all of this quashed by my disgust at making my hands sticky with coffee.

So I too passed by the cup- not in the insecure knowledge that somebody else would pick it up, but consumed with guilt that I had ranted (in my head) against the litterer, and all of those IN-considerate people simply passing by and acknowledging the cup’s presence, but not doing anything about it. And I was one of them. Just because I didn’t want to have to wash my hands afterwards.

I am a hypocrite. And what’s worse, I probably won’t do anything to change that.

1. Being afraid to show who I really am. Now that I like who I am, I don’t care as much about what others think of me, but I wish I had realized this earlier. I wouldn’t view my first two years of high school as a social wasteland then.

2. Not being there for my friends as much as I could have. I rarely took the initiative in creating quality “bonding” time. This one guy- who was a family friend as well as one of my closest friends at the time- invited my family to a concert of his, his first real gig. Everybody else went except me, because I said I had homework and didn’t want to stay up late and didn’t like rock much. Looking back, I don’t remember what I did that night. I think I would have remembered the concert, regardless of my homework, sleep loss, and dislike of rock music.

3. Not being very active in high school. I never joined all those clubs I was interested in because I was scared. (God, that sounds so stupid to me now!) Art Club- I was scared everybody would be better than me. Robotics Club- I was scared I would be labelled a geek. Debate Club- I was scared of speaking competitively, and that I wouldn’t know anybody in the club. Mock Trial- I was scared because I didn’t know exactly what they did, even though pretending to be a lawyer sounded interesting.

4. All the time I wasted doing stupid things: Mafia Wars and Farmtown on Facebook. Sims 2. Watching Hannah Montana (very embarrassing to admit, since I have a revulsion to all things Hannah Montana except her TV show). Coasting YouTube and watching random music videos.

5. That despite acknowledging these regrets… I’m not really fixing them.

I’m fine now, I mean, but my throat needs almost constant moisturizing in the form of a pill- warm water- cough drop regimen that needs adjustment often, I need to make sure I get enough sleep (ha. ha. ha.), and I have a @#&%load of work to catch up on.

Definitely not happening.

On the other hand, I am now unusually well-versed in the sport of ski jumping… and have decided that if I ever get my sorry little butt over the Atlantic and into Austria, guess who I am going to marry? Gregor Schlierenzauer, the star of the Austrian ski jumping team who is practically a rock star yet still lives with his grandma. How cute. And no, I didn’t stalk him- NBC interview, hurrah.

Obviously I am rather dismal at being consistent at anything involving writing, which is rather odd considering for practically my entire life, English has been my best subject; and even with a hor-REN-dous English teacher sophomore and junior year (can we say STUDY HALL!?), still near the top of the class with the notoriously nitpicky senior teacher.

It probably helps that I can spell, and nearly always have correct grammar and such. Then again…

“The cat ate the rat, who sat on the mat,” said Othello in Act II of the play. Clearly this symbolizes the simplicity of Othello’s mind during this important part. He needs to go to the market to get rutabagas, but only has a ha’penny to spend. This is unfortunate because he also wants to get Bazooka’s Joe’s Bubble Gum.

Damn. I’m random. Wheee… :)