30 minutes to kill. Go.

I've got a little less than thirty minutes until regularly scheduled Tuesday maintenance is over. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, every World of Warcraft server goes down for a few hours Tuesday morning for a scheduled maintenance period and is unavailable until 11:00 AM Pacific time, which of course is 2 PM here. This is a bit of an annoyance, because I came to the library and set up my boyfriend's laptop (which I have sort of adopted as my own, as he has done with my iPod) specifically in order to level my new orc warlock, Roxzan. Roxzan is a name I created based on Roxanne, which has fairly recently (over the last year or so) become my favorite name. In fact, if I have a daughter, I plan on naming her Roxanne Nicole. The name Roxanne means "dawn" in Persian, or something like that, but I don't like the name Dawn. With my genes and the probable father of my future children's genes, there's a high likelihood my children will all be brunettes, and Dawn seems a more appropriate name for a blonde. I don't know why Firefox seems to think "children's" and "blonde" are misspelled. Forgive me if this post rambles a bit, I'm really just writing a stream of consciousness thing until WoW's back up. Anyway, I think I must have pulled a muscle on my left side, right under my arm, near my ribs, because I feel a constant yet faint pain in that area, and at times there is a sudden jolt of pain that hurts like a sonofabitch. At any rate, it's better than yesterday when I had recurring, violent hiccups all day long, from right before my Spanish class at 11 AM until right before I went to bed at 12 AM. My other problem today is that I have been extremely tired. I totally passed out in Humanities II today. Of course, nobody really gives their full and undivided attention to the art lectures, because they're just not as full of information as other lectures, but I usually pay a fair amount of attention because I'm actually interested in art. However, I guess Rococo and Anti-Rococo art are enough to put me right to sleep. After that class I went to the student union, fell asleep there too, and almost decided I was too tired to go to Tae Kwon Do, but changed my mind at the last minute. I almost wish I hadn't. My shirt today was rather low-cut, and in the techniques we were doing today we had to grab each other by the shirt. I was originally paired up with my instructor, but he switched me out with a guy. Gee, I wonder why. I felt a little creeped out... I mean, why was he looking there anyway? Nah. The guy's got a wife and kids, he probably just didn't want to embarrass me or do anything that might have seemed inappropriate. He's a respected martial artist and a Christian (not that being a Christian means much in the way of sexual morality these days, if you'd watch the news) and I'm sure he just didn't want to accidentally facilitate a wardrobe malfunction. I really wish we didn't have to partner up with a different person every time. I would rather work with my friend Jamie. She's so cute and funny and she goes to conventions too, if you can believe that. Ugh. Oh God, the guy who just sat down at the next table over smells awful. It's not B.O. per se... I think it's his feet or something. Ew. I've only got about five minutes, but somehow I just know they're not going to have Firetree up exactly at two. It's funny, the names of all the realms have something to do with the story behind the game, but I have yet to find out just what Firetree and Moonrunner (the realm my boyfriend and my friend Matt made their Alliance alts on when Firetree was down for a while) have to do with lore. I haven't encountered it in-game yet, so I guess I'll just have to look it up on WoWWiki. Well, I think I'll go get a turkey wrap.

I couldn't wait until tomorrow to post again, it seems.

     I got extremely nervous when I saw "1 Comment" at the bottom of my first post. Then I realized that I commented on my own post. DUH. See, I'm forgetful like that. Also, I get nervous. I act like I don't care what people think, but I do, to a degree. I don't let it destroy or stop me, but I do care.

     Honestly, unless I link this blog to all my Facebook friends, nobody will read it, and even if I link it to all my 300+ friends, three or four might read them, and most wouldn't be people I even really talk to. But I don't care. I talk to myself all the time anyway. I even talk and sing to myself in public, not loudly, but not in whispers either. I don't mind if I'm thought of as mentally ill. I often think of myself that way.

     Anyway, my boyfriend and I had a talk about how I say I'm going to do things and I don't follow through on them. It all started with my house key. I couldn't find it and I started freaking out. He unlocked the door with his own key and then started looking through my purse for mine. I was a bit miffed at him- it's my purse, after all. I don't let anyone look in my purse. That's a damn lie. I've totally let people look in my purse before, but for some reason I felt violated when he did. I don't know why... he's my boyfriend, I should feel totally comfortable with him looking through any and all of my stuff. I have nothing to hide from him. I'm not the cheating type, I'm not using drugs on the sly, I don't have gay furry porn in my purse or anything like that. (Who the hell would keep it in their purse and not just in some hidden file on their computer, I don't know, but I don't judge either.) But I digress, the whole principle behind the thing was that I had promised him I would keep my house key in the front pocket of my purse, the one with the "I <3 UA" (and that's the University of Akron, not Upper Arlington, lest the Central Ohioans get confused) and Pretenders buttons shoved through the vinyl. Or plastic, whatever it's made of. And I didn't. My key was in a completely different pocket of my purse. Now to some people that wouldn't matter, but I've had problems with organization my whole life, because I grew up in a highly cluttered environment and I was never taught or shown how to properly organize anything, except an essay and a research paper. I'll never get good at it if I don't honestly try, and losing my house key could get my boyfriend in "a mell of a hess" as my Shakespeare prof says. But anyway, it turned into a big, blown-out-of-proportion cryfest as usual. When my boyfriend and I fight, there's never any actual yelling. He stays all logical and intelligent and fairly calm throughout the fight, and I get all flustered and start to speak with incorrect grammar and cry. I wish I could be like him, you know? I talk tough, but when it comes down to it, my emotional endurance is comparable to my physical endurance, and I can't run a mile without walking part of it. (ADD moment: The Moonlight Sonata is drifting into my ears from somewhere and I'm reminded of a friend of mine who loves that song like it was her boyfriend. Or girlfriend, she is bi after all, like most of my female friends. Now it's gone into Fur Elise. Who knew my neighbors were Beethoven fans?)

     Rereading what I've written so far, I've come to a decision. I don't care how much it costs, I need to start taking my Ritalin again, or a similar drug.

      One of my friends, a girl I'd really like to get to know better despite the fact that I'll always feel like an ugly stepsister when I see her cute, petite form and enormous light-colored eyes, is having a birthday party on Saturday, out in Macedonia at Fun'n'Stuff (if you live around here you've surely heard of it, if not, Google it.) At pretty much the exact same time, my favorite soccer team, which also happens to be my university's men's soccer team, plays their home opener at their recently improved field. Sigh. I hate to miss a soccer game, but my rule of thumb is friends before futbol. Besides, the only people I'd see at the soccer game are loudmouthed drunks, sluts, loudmouthed drunken sluts, the occasional d-bag, and, quite possibly, my ex-boyfriend, who I'd really rather not speak to. (I'm not going to bother telling THAT tale. I've gone into great detail of that sickening time in my life to my parents, grandparents, boyfriend and psychologist. I'm done talking about the piece of shit, except to say he's a piece of shit. Honestly, he's not, he just doesn't know how to treat a woman, but I still say it because breaking my heart is not an easily forgiven offense.)

     I'll try not to make ALL my blog posts this g.d. long. (Forgot to mention, there's two words I don't like to say much, one is goddamn and the other is cunt. You won't see those words again for a while.)

The ubiquitous introductory post.

This is not a blog about politics. This is not a blog about celebrities. This is not a blog about sports. This does not guarantee that I won't mention politics, celebrities or sports at any time, because I have some unusual political opinions, I hate Paris Hilton and I love soccer.
About the author: I'm a contradiction. I say I hate Facebook, but what's the first website I log onto when I get on the computer? Sure ain't Myspace. I'm bad at video games, but I joined the video game club at my university last Friday. I advocate healthful eating, but I live on candy, soda, coffee, granola bars and Instant Lunch. Or I would if my boyfriend didn't cook for me.
I'm between jobs and it sucks. I tried to apply for food stamps but apparently since I'm still "dependent" on my parents (which is a lie, I live with my boyfriend and my parents can barely support themselves and my brother, let alone a 19 year old girl who doesn't know the value of a dollar yet) I'm not allowed to receive them on my own.
I'm going to tell you right now, this blog is not family-friendly. I tend to rant about things that piss me off, using very strong language. Sure, I go to church and everything, but I'm not some goody-two-shoes Bible-hugger. I'm also very open about sex and sexuality. I'll try not to overshare but I think Americans are much too uptight about sex, especially sex that isn't one man, one woman, missionary position, for the purpose of procreation.
I am not some emo kid who's going to constantly whine about everything that pisses me off. Nor am I some happy-go-lucky girl who's going to write about unicorns and rainbows and OMG TWILIGHT!!! I take depression meds, but I'm typically a fairly happy person, just kind of unmotivated and a little cynical.
I am not politically correct, at least, not all the time. I don't use racial slurs or hate speech because I just don't hate people, but I will use words like slut, whore, dumbass, douchebag, ghetto, emo, ditz, bimbo, right-wing nutjob... I usually don't mean half of what I say. I'm still growing out of teen angst. Bear with me.
I also make horrible puns. I mean, BAD. Fair warning.
I have an extremely high IQ and an embarrassingly low GPA. I also have little knowledge of the way the world works. I've never had a "real" job, only a stupid work study thing that I got fired from because I thought it was a waste of my time so I didn't go. I've never had sexual intercourse, gotten drunk, smoked a cigarette or done drugs. That doesn't mean I'm against those things, I just have very little life experience.

Leave this blog and don't bother reading it again if:

• You love insects/other arthropods and don't like people who are phobic of them and wish they would all just go away forever.
• You hate women, poor people, people who believe in a God or gods, Hispanics, people with ADD, overweight/obese people, or "nerds". I am all of those except Hispanic and overweight, but I plan to work with Spanish-speaking immigrants in my future career, and many people in my life have weight struggles, so if you plan to flame me or the people in my life, fuck off.
• You think I'd make a hot date. While being appreciated for my personality and writing rather than my looks would be a huge boost for my fragile ego, I am not open to offers of meeting IRL, dating, casual sex or impromptu marriage. I have a boyfriend named Adam who I love very much and just might marry someday.
• You're easily offended. Like I said, I assume that swearing and "non-PC" speech that ISN'T hate speech or a slur are covered by the First Amendment, so I will write what's on my mind. If it hurts your feelings, tough shit. I can't please everyone.

Even though I'm a university student, this won't be a typical college student blog. It won't be filled with strong political opinions, subliminal ads for PETA, or stories that start with "Dude, I was soooo wasted last night..." I don't think of myself as a "college student." I think of myself as a human being who happens to take classes at a university.
And finally, I am an internet junkie, so I know a troll when I see one. If you post a comment that says something like "Get back in the kitchen bitch", I will respond with "LOL k, what do you want on your sandwich?" because I've seen it all before. And no, you will never see my tits.

Yeah, so, glad that's out of the way. Tomorrow, or whenever I post next (did I mention I'm very sporadic about things like this?) I'll talk about something that's actually kind of interesting. Maybe.