Chaotic Class Notes

Here's a new concept: I'm blogging from The World's Quietest Professor's class. No matter how hard I listen, it's not like I'm going to hear him! And while the course is about media and technology, I'm not totally convinced he knows what an iPod is. As long as I keep reading the text, and I look over the online notes, I think I'll be okay. Consider this little stint of rebellion an important vacation for my ever-straining collegiate mind. Or something.

Huh. I just caught a bit of the lecture. He's introducing the class to the idea of Star Trek slash fanfiction. Giggles escape from the few students not listening to headphones under their hoods or playing MASH in the corners of their notebooks. It's sort of cute-- they're laughing because they've never imagined such a geeky thing, and I'm laughing because Remus/Sirius is the only acceptable homoerotic ship. (I'm kidding; I do not read fanfic at all, let alone slash.) (And besides, Harry/Draco is hotter.) (You can decide which of those parentheticals was meant sarcastically.)

I'm getting a little bit slap-happy now. It's three in the afternoon, and my blood sugar is dropping along with my attention span. Not much has happened around these parts since I last updated, so I'm at a loss for blog material. That, and there are people close enough in the row behind me that I'm getting self-conscious about my typing, and am having a hard time keeping on track. I just glanced over my shoulder to confirm that all eyes were on me, but was almost disappointed to find nothing but a girl twirling a sucker stick in her mouth, and a boy pulling the strings of his sweatshirt like Emelio Estevez in The Breakfast Club. Your loss, guys. I'm composing some really worthwhile literature over here. Complete with jokes about the imagined bicuriosity of fictional characters.

Ooh, yikes. The World's Quietest Professor is going on about editing movies now, and while I've only heard about an eighth of his sentences, I suspect he's wrong. See, edit webcam video semi-successfully for three years, and you suddenly get this film-savvier-than-thou attitude. I can't help it. I know virtually nothing about movies, but I still feel like some kind of expert. I don't care how many movies this man's seen, because until he's got a youtube channel, I'll have none of it.

Oh, hello. It's eleven thirty at night now. My blogging ended abruptly when one of the few tidbits of lecture I caught contained the statement, "Everybody started buying VCRs, because everybody wanted to watch pornography at home!" I'm not sure what relevance that had to Chapter 8 of the textbook, either, but my ears certainly perked up. Anyway, after the old man continued to mumble about less sexy things, I zoned out again until class was over, and it only just occurred to me now that I'd left you readers hanging. I apologize. I am back.

Roomie, PJ, Heather, Michal and I gathered in my room tonight to watch Glee together, which turned into a singing fest/chaotic party, as per usual. Heather and I discussed the swing scene in Spring Awakening in enough detail to make Roomie and PJ glance at each other in disgust. Michal told us a variety of tales, including the story of her phone breaking and her computer getting stolen, all within the same week. I tried to funnel my attention to the paper I was writing amidst the chatter, but managed to only write half a paragraph, because rap songs from the early 2000's were playing too loudly for my brain to function coherently. My room may not be the Studying Capital of the World, but it sure is the Hub of Dance Parties... and with that kind of a reputation, I can't really complain.

Anyway, I finished the paper just now, and figured I should pop my head into the Hayleylujah Chorus before falling asleep. I hope you're having a good week, and I hope this entry hasn't forever turned you off from my writing.

Sexy: Sam (isnoggedharry) and Molly (mememolly). Somewhere between my dorm being a hangout and a party location, I received a call from the two of them, and the small bits of conversation I could make out over the banter of my friends in the room served to remind me how lovely and entertaining those girls are.

Unsexy: The giant workload I have assigned by my orientation class for English majors. It's only one credit hour, but I have to sit in a stuffy room for two hours a week and turn in far more reports and projects than in any of my real classes.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 20,795

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

(Funny) TV Disaster, YouTube Drama

Erin, Roomie and I are on the phone with a man at Toshiba. "We have a TV here, and it has a DVD stuck inside," Erin says, searching the back for a serial numbers or something. "It won't come out, even when we hit the eject button."

"Oh, I see," says the man. "I'm so sorry about that! Go ahead and unplug the device."

From my bed, I shout, "Guys. You need to tell him that there are two movies in there."

"We live in a dorm?" says Erin, as Roomie and I crack up. "And somebody decided it was a good idea to put in another DVD after the first one got stuck."

"Oh. Right," the poor man says, doing a great job at sounding unaffected by our stupidity. He asks us to read him all the complicated product codes and for Roomie's phone number. After we discover them, the man says, "Can I ask what the two movies are?"

Roomie and I look at each other and stifle laughter. I call out whatever generic porn titles I can think of (MILFs R US! Barely Legal Blondes!") and Roomie blushes. "Um, American Pie," she squeaks. "And Elf."

And that, dear readers, is a glimpse into an average afternoon on my floor. We just ended the call and allowed the Toshiba man to return to dealing with other idiots, but we're still smiling. I can't imagine he really needed to know the names of the DVDs in order to help us get them out of the television. He probably asked to enhance his rehashing of the "Wow, people are so dumb" story of the day at the office. Hey, if I can provide entertainment to bored Indian American men around a water cooler, I consider today a success.

Anyway, I wish I could have blogged last night. I had a ton to tell you about the fun that followed the dorm movie party-- how me, Heather, and these two cool guys, Sean and Ben, hung out literally all night long, etc.-- but I never got the chance. I came back to my dorm from my sister's house later than I should have, considering the paper I had to write for the next morning, and my room was filled to the brink with my roommate's friends. I like them, and I never mind their presence, but I had a ton of work to do, needed a shower desperately, and wasn't at all in the mood to see people in my bed or desk chair. Frazzled, I turned to grab my laptop and find somewhere else to do my homework. Where was my computer?

In one of the boys' laps, that's where. A boy whose name I don't even remember was on my computer, with his own laptop sitting right next to it. I stared at him, trying to conceptualize what would make a stranger think it was okay to use my computer when I wasn't even in the room. "Um..." I said, taking it from him.

"Wait!" he yelled as he grabbed my laptop back from me. "I'm in the middle of a really important conversation on facebook." For reasons unknown, because I am naturally passive and incapable of sticking up for myself, I allowed him about three more minutes with my most expensive and personal belonging in his grubby hands. Meanwhile, he used HIS OWN computer to play loud, headachey music, which of course had to be THE WORST KIND OF MUSIC. I'm talking about freaking covers of Oasis songs. And people yelling into practically peaking microphones. And all the while I'm standing in my own room, stressed about the load of work I've bestowed upon myself, wondering what important websites and/or documents a stranger is accessing.

Wow. I wasn't irritated about that anymore until I brought back those emotions. (Talk about method acting!) What I am irritated about, however, is youtube. I wasted some time this afternoon watching my old favorites from 2007, back before everything was monetized, and when the truth about lonelygirl15 was news, and when Boh3m3 mattered. Sure, there wasn't widescreen or HD, and yeah, thewinekone didn't know how to use lights. But all those old videos seemed so genuine. People could mention a brand name without it being product placement, and the use of copyrighted music wasn't a real threat yet because the audiences were as small and intimate as making a movie for a school project. You could count on your fingers the important "youtube celebrities." If a vlogger made a decent video, he or she would be featured, and the entire community would know them in a month's time. I signed up for this website, and while I'm thrilled it's become what it has, and I adore so many artists I would have never known about had Google not taken over, I really miss the old days.

On top of that, it's sick how much cattiness money has caused. Networking is awesome and all, but now it's become less of a fun game and more of a competition to have higher numbers and more feedback than similar people across the globe. It bothers me the amount of revenue everybody is churning nowadays from something that was once a free environment for artists. Honestly, yeah, I've benefitted financially, and I would never want to trade that ability. But I'm not mad about the incredible possibilities presented to us by the site's owners; I'm mad at the individual content creators knocking down the Garden of Eden and building a smokestack factory. There's nothing wrong with receiving revenue for the hard work you put out, but I'm not sure I support those who market videos and products with the sole intention of raking in profit.

Sigh. And to top that off, I'm angry with a handful of specific "youtube people" for various reasons. Some relate to money, as you can probably assume from that rant, but other grudges I'm carrying are for personal reasons. I hate that people I love have to endure criticism from complete strangers regarding their personal lives. I hate the actions of certain people that create a vehicle for this criticism. I hate that I can't just stomp on that person's face, or say hateful things about them, because 1) I'm a more advanced human being than that, and 2) I'm not physically close enough to cause them harm, even though 3) I could probably beat their scrawny ass in a fight.

I'm done now. Sorry to subject you innocent readers to my venting. Besides constantly worrying about Jess (the dog she's had and adored her whole life is sick and running out of time), I've been doing really well, actually. Contrary to how I may sound from all that above bitching, I'm not in an overall bad mood at all. I fell in love with xkcd today, and, of course, I witnessed that funny conversation with the man at Toshiba. Also, I just received a text from Michal stating that she suspects her mother reads my blog? If this is true, I apologize, ma'am, for sounding like such a stereotypical teenager. Your daughter is lovely, though!

Sexy: Old Goodies, like this video.

Unsexy: The fact that record companies are among the all-time most subscribed lists, and the fact that the old favorites like Brookers and TheHill88 are nowhere to be seen on the front pages.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 20,757

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Tyra, Bonding, Cardboard

Goodness, I use my free time effectively. Through related video surfing, I've found myself watching an episode of Tyra-- yeah, seriously-- about a fifteen-year-old girl who's engaged and taking fertility drugs she ordered offline, hoping to have a baby with her eighteen-year-old boyfriend. He was her camp counselor, and now he lives with her mother, and the couple has unprotected sex twice a day. People are crazy.

"People are crazy," said the girl watching Tyra on her computer.

Hi! That happened yesterday. I had every intention of blogging in the afternoon, even started, as you can see, but my roommate invited me to go out with her, her best friend Heather, and Katie from Theatre. I agreed, despite the fact that I'd always gotten a vibe from them that they didn't like me very much, because all my school friends decided to go home this weekend. I dressed myself halfheartedly, hoping I'd hit it off with Heather, since she'd mentioned liking Harry Potter, and prayed I didn't somehow make my roommate hate me.

Well, alas. Heather and I did hit off-- seriously hit it off-- and in one night, my roommate and I became actual friends. After we waited for Heather's ditzy roommates as they spent a century changing clothes and teasing their hair, we broke away from them and Katie, Roomie, Heather and I had a dinner of Wendy's fries and Skittles-flavored hookah. Over smokey bubbles, I had a heart-to-heart with Heather, she successfully completed my challenge of naming all the Gryffindors in Harry's year, and we all acted like middle schoolers and took a lot of pictures. In a happy state, we made our way down to the party streets.

For the first time-- and you can quote me on this-- I had a ton of fun at a party in a stranger's yard. We made friends with some boy from Cincinnati, I defended my Creative Writing major to a couple of dumb guys who've never heard the word "vernacular" before, and Roomie and I somehow ended up doing the Hoedown Throwdown together. Later on, once all the fighting frat boys had left, we got to know a handful of guys, with whom we proceeded to scream "Don't Stop Believin'" in a circle. It was sort of disappointing when the party died down, but Roomie and I went home together, giggling and talking. Our dynamic has changed so much in the past couple of hours that I'm currently sitting in the corner of my dorm while Roomie's high school guy friends are in a row on my bed. Are you proud of us? Because I am.

As for today, I woke up at eleven, and before I showered or even brushed my teeth, I made the world's biggest post-breakup mistake and watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Few movies are more beautiful, but I got kind of close to tearing up. The only cure for my film-induced heartache was a long shower and some productivity. Yes, I decided to brave the laundry room for the first time.

I had no idea how heavy half my laundry could be until I nearly toppled over and did broke one of my gorgeous, perfectly manicured nails in an attempt to save my underwear from spewing all over the hallway. Once I made it to the laundromat, though, it got better. I sat next to a cute boy for the two hours our clothes took to wash, but we didn't talk, because I took the time to get some writing done. The light murmuring sound of twenty spin cycles in tandem is really soothing and provides a good environment for concentration. Weird as it may sound, I'm kind of looking forward to my next laundry day. Next time, I'll only try carrying a load that weighs less than I do.

To burn off some energy, I had a Remus Lupins solo dance party in my room while I folded clothes, and was interrupted by the sound of Heather, Katie and my roommate, throwing pebbles at my window to be corny. They waved and came upstairs, when Heather said, indicated my laptop, "All the music on my itunes is wizard rock and showtunes." We hugged. I'm not kidding, guys. Things can be this good.

I was going to be a more active participant in the movie party currently happening in my room, but I was accosted by my RA's on my way back from the bathroom a few hours ago, and they put on these really sad puppy dog eyes and asked me to go with them to a charity event. I couldn't think of a reason to say no, and I didn't want them to have to register as a group at the event with no participants, so I saved them by having them register for a group... with one participant. It was okay, though, because it turned out to be kind of fun. It was for Habitat for Humanity, called Cardboard City, and the objective was to donate money for the homeless and build funny houses out of cardboard and duct tape in a parking lot. My group used giant rug tubes as pillars, and hung a flag from the tallest one. Another group constructed this brilliant castle with multiple rooms, and a trio of guys made a tower tall enough for them to stand in without ducking. I don't exactly understand how this benefits homeless people, but it was an interesting idea. And I got a free t-shirt.

As for now? I'm going to head over to my sister's house to bake cookies for her and her friends. It's good to bond with my peers, but they're watching one of the twenty American Pie sequels, and I don't think semen is funny. But maybe that's just me.

Sexy: Going along with the theme from last time, Cory Monteith from Glee. Sing to me and I'm yours!

Unsexy: How badly I need to buy a belt. I'm wearing really cute teal skinny jeans, and they fit really well, but they sit at the exact pre-ass point where not wearing a belt is dangerous business.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 20,705

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Hot Breadsticks

As many hater comments as I endure on a daily basis, I can say this for the internet: it has some medicinal value. My never-ending bad day prevailed from my last blog post all the way up until this afternoon, but somewhere during the process of editing my fiveawesomegirls video, I suddenly perked up. None of that was staged, by the way. I honestly turned on my webcam feelings like vomit, and all it took was some Miley Cyrus and some counting of my blessings for my mood to improve. So, YouTube, I'm willing to put up with being called a "fag" or "dum bich" every now and then if this is how you repay my patience.

Cheerful disposition aside, things aren't too exciting around these parts. I got an A on one of my first big girl college papers. It turns out that the secret is to determine the professor's political bias and religious beliefs, and then pander your heart out. All I had to do was compromise my morals and pretend to be an atheistic ultra-feminist. Eh, I may never be named a martyr, but at least my suck-up skills and knowledge of punctuation will never fail me!

Another thrilling event of note? I had dinner with my sister tonight, and I was ready to exit the line with my happy little crock of spaghetti when I caught accidental eye contact with a really cute guy, who was wearing a stained apron and tending to garlic bread. Like a hound dog, my nose followed the scent of golden-brownness to a back table in the kitchen, where sat a tray of breadsticks. "Are those...?" I started, looking from the breadsticks to Hot Dining Hall Guy and back again.

"Yeah," he said. "You... do you want to wait for them?" I'm going to be honest and add that he responded like he was a little bit flustered, and he was definitely looking at me the same way I was looking at him. "'Cause it'll be a few seconds."

"Obviously," I said. "I mean, breadsticks are awesome!"

Hot Dining Hall Guy laugh-grunted something that suggested that he agreed, and he then wrestled with the tray like delivering my breadstick was the most important task in the world. I was putting on a good show of looking distracted and disinterested, so his determination to feed me was particularly flattering. "Here," he finally said, smiling. And then Hot Dining Hall Guy held out the tray, specifically to me, despite the crowd forming in line. I took the tongs and plucked one from his platter. I felt it, guys. It was a carbohydrate love connection.

To top things off, the breadstick turned out to be a BOSCOE STICK. I don't know how badly your high school cafeterias suck(ed), but for the students of Hell, few things were more exciting than the days we were served these gloriously greasy cheese-filled breadsticks, and I thought I'd never get to savor them again. If it weren't enough that I got hit on by a boy with access to food, I got to chase the experience with fatty goodness.

So despite the fact that a whole lot of aspects of my life currently suck, at least I have a new goal: talk to the cute boy again. And, ya know, eat more cheesy bread.

Sexy: Matthew Morrison! I keep re-watching episodes of Glee on Hulu, and while it's partially to appreciate the hysterical dialogue, it's mostly to drool over the show's leading man. Oh, oh my. He is just too good-looking. It should be illegal.

Unsexy: Having classes on Fridays. My body is itching for the weekend.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 20,641

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Upset and Angry

Studying Donne in my English class has programmed my mind to spew out a constant string of unconventional analogies. And this, dear readers, leads me to say this: Blogging is exactly like exercise. It sounds frightening and painful when you haven't done it in a while, requires a few minutes of warming up, feels good in the middle, and feels even better when you're done. However, it's also super hard to get back in the habit once you've taken a few days off. Unlike Donne, I have a suspicion that I've already made this same comparison in an early blog. If I have, pretend I haven't. If I haven't, you can go ahead and think to yourself, Wow, that Hayley is just so brilliant. I know. I know.

Anyway, I'm alive. I didn't write on Friday because I was eating mass amounts of pizza and watching stupid movies with Michal in her dorm. I got back late, opened my laptop with the intention of updating, and was pulled away by that football player from my high school, because his girlfriend was visiting, and she was fed up with watching him play video games all night. So, to remedy the situation, I... entertained his girlfriend in a room, surrounded by boys playing video games all night. Not exactly the party of a lifetime, but it was still probably healthier than writing to strangers, alone, and falling asleep in my clothes.

Jess and Sebastian came down on Saturday. We did things the Jess-and-Hayley way, meaning that we ate more calories than any of our bodies wanted, and laughed a lot. Jess and Erin hit it off, as I knew they would, and the two of them went on a little adventure while Sebastian and I had some boyfriend/girlfriend time. Later, the four of us went to the hookah bar with PJ (the lonelygirl15 guy), where Jess showed all of us up with her amazing smoke rings. With a tiny nicotine buzz and some dancing, skipping and other revelry, we went to a dumb, stereotypical backyard party because my hometown friends wanted the true OU experience. This resulted in Jess and I singing "Best I Ever Had" with Solo cups in hand, and Sebastian and I mostly breaking up.

Sunday was hard. Leaving Jess the first time was positively miserable three weeks ago, but watching her leave me was unbearable. I now have memories of my best friend in all my school hangouts, and while other people here are awesome, and I love my new life to death, no one else, anywhere, will ever compare to this unbreakable relationship I started before I could write. A genuine liter of tears poured out of me during our goodbye hug, and as I walked away, I had to cup my hand over my mouth so passersby didn't hear my obnoxious choking sobs. It was all different shades of embarrassing and messy and sad as hell. There's nothing melodramatic or exaggerated about my friendship with Jess. She's the single most important person to me, and no amount of consolation will make this amount of separation fully tolerable.

To top it off, Sebastian and I officially broke up right before they left. Before you jump to conclusions, it was for very good reasons, and while we're sad, it was both unavoidable and nobody's fault. I called him this morning, after I had to walk up a huge hill in the rain, immediately after waking up, with a food hangover. Because he's the person I call when I feel like that, and things between us aren't going to change over something so petty. Sigh. It was inevitable, but it just isn't fun.

To top that all off, I'm vicariously pissed for Kristina, whose life is the opposite of fair right now. We've been talking about how excited we are for her to get back home this week, and it only truly hit me tonight that while she's coming back to the ability to call me, she's not actually coming home to me. Why can't the people we love just be close enough to hug? Or throw things with? In fact, why can't the people we need to throw things at be close enough to vandalize their stuff and break their faces?

I'm sorry. I haven't blogged in a few days, because I was worried it would come out like this. My roommate is asleep next to me with her comforter pulled over her head, and I'm pounding angrily on my laptop with the lights on. My mother is being a nagging psycho and texting me every two seconds, demanding that I call her, because my family has the unrealistic expectation that I want to talk to them at all times, and about everything. Ugh. Stop me from punching a wall or something.

Sexy: Nina Jankowicz. She's a great person, so fun to hang out with, and I've been watching her videos nonstop since I woke up today.

Unsexy: Everything else!

Chipotle burritos this year: 31

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 20,580

Bye, guys. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Birthday Presents!

I had a fantastic day yesterday! Erin, my roommate, and my friend Katie from Theatre class decorated my room with balloons and banners. I came back from class to find my birthday video from the other awesomegirls, which, in my personal opinion, is the absolute funniest 5AG collab of all time. I laughed out loud innumerable times, setting me on a high that lasted all afternoon and beyond.

My classes dragged on, but I treated myself to an escape from The World's Quietest Professor by taking my laptop. I didn't learn a damn thing about media, but I got to have conversations with Marlena and Leah over Skype, and wrote most of a paper for another class. I think the guy behind me was probably reading over my shoulder, so I sort of regret being so boring. He was looking for adventure, and all I gave him was a Word document and some nerdy poetry analysis.

When my school day was over, I went to my sister's house for dinner. I was greeted by oven-baked s'mores and homemade Mexican food, because Kelly knows me, and she's the freaking greatest. I ate more than I thought I could handle, talked to my parents a bit on the phone, and finished my paper. Nothing was thrilling about it, but it was fun nonetheless. I also received a huge ice cream cake, ordered from my brother, to take back to my dorm. Because, in his words, "Everybody wants to be friends with the kid with the cake."

And indeed! They do! The girls from my floor sat in a circle in the middle of the hallway, brandishing spoons, and we all dug holes and tunnels into the center of the poor thing. Once we were on the verge of puking, we took the cake on a tour of the other floors of our building, offering scoops to eager boys and begging others to take the melting mess off our hands. We left the gloopy platter in front of this one boy's door at the end, because he's creeped on virtually everybody we know. "Thanks for the memories!" we wrote on his dry-erase board. "Love, the girls from the floor below."

The night was topped off by a floor-wide Glee party, and my friend PJ (the one who helped with lonelygirl15) came over to join, bringing a hand-painted watercolor of Elphaba from Wicked for my birthday. I also found presents from Michal and Kayla left on my bed: orange nail polish, yellow nail polish, candy, and other goodies. I got to sleep late, after reading the hundreds of birthday messages I received on facebook, twitter, youtube and this blog. I love each and every one of you! Thank you so much for caring about me!

Today, while less eventful, was still really nice. I was forced into attending a pizza party at a professor's house for one group of the Creative Writing majors, but it ended up being a lot better than I'd imagined. I got a free dinner, and I bonded with a couple of girls from my English class. One of them is even a huge fan of the Potter musical, and she's just great. We were assigned to write up profiles of other members of the class and post them online, and the one she did was really well-written. I seriously want to be friends with her.

Also, I received my birthday packages from my parents tonight! I got a cute raincoat, a big bag of peanut M&Ms that I've already nearly killed, and the world's most gorgeous brown leather Steve Madden boots, just like the ones Hermione wore in the Half-Blood Prince movie! And, better yet, Miley Cyrus owns the same pair. I'm overcome with joy, and can't wait for tomorrow, so I can be Haymileyne.

Sexy: Lauren Fairweather! I had a good phone conversation with her tonight, and every time we talk, I'm reminded by how much I miss her, and what a great person she is. At the same time, I feel like we're exactly the same age, and like she's my big sister. Oh yeah, and she's my favorite musician. But whatever.

Unsexy: "Ooh, I looove Harry Potter," said one girl at tonight's event. "I'm the biggest fan! I've read all the books, and I even went to the latest movie... what was it called? Like, the fifth one? Anyway, I went to see the movie in, like, the first week after it came out."

Chipotle burritos this year: 30

Bagel Street visits this school year: 2

Subscribers: 20,497

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Reflections on Age 18

As of right now, as I begin this blog post, I was born exactly nineteen years, twelve hours, and thirty minutes ago. It's strange how slowly this realization has been sinking in for me. When I was younger, I would jump around town for a full month screaming my new age, alerting the neighbors, asking polietely that everyone drop everything to pay me my much-deserved attention. But slowly, the novelty of having lived another year is wearing off. So much that, as I glanced at my phone this morning, I had to think for a second about why my heart had jumped at the date. September 15th? What happens on September 15th? Oh, right. Nothing. My brain has just been conditioned to begin bursting with anticipation for the 16th.

I wish I could compile some kind of sappy tribute to the previous year of my life, complete with detailed accounts of what made it special, but I just don't think I have it in me tonight. I've been doing a lot of homework, talking to a lot of friends, and scarfing a lot of bagel sandwiches. Such strenuous activity can sap up a girl's energy. Instead, however, I will list eighteen frivolous memories, in no particular order, to remind myself of this age. Not because I've given tonight's blog post a ton of thought, but because I know I would hate myself later if I didn't put forth any effort. And so, dear readers, below is my time capsule of the last year.

1. I opened my first real, adult bank account, to which I deposit my real, adult paychecks. And when I visit the bank, nobody gives me a lollipop or plastic dinosaur. (Not that I wouldn't greedily accept either, should the tellers decide to offer them.)

2. I registered to vote in a presidential election. America's first black president was sworn into office while Jess and I walked down the hallway of our high school, and we paused on our way back to class to stare at the clock and count down, "Five, four, three, two, one. HAPPY PRESIDENT!"

3. I entered a sex shop, and while I cringed and closed my eyes for most of the visit, the entire experience was legal.

4. I purchased cigarettes at a Circle K, breaking the heart of the little old man behind the counter who, upon checking my valid ID, knew he had to sell them to me.

5. I grasped my high school diploma, tweeted all kinds of inapporpriate reactions to my newfound freedom, and called every teacher I passed on my escape by his or her first name.

6. I dyed my hair an unnatural color and sometimes dressed outrageously for the amusement of my friends and the shock factor from my public school.

7. I read William Shakespeare's Hamlet for the first time, and subsequently had my life altogether changed by a play.

8. I kissed four boys, and while giggling, pecked each of the other fiveawesomegirls at midnight on New Year's.

9. I peirced my ears.

10. I reached 20,000 subscribers on my personal YouTube channel where, over the last year, I posted thirty-one videos.

11. I managed to never get arrested, get into a bona fide car accident, or acquire a parking ticket... greatly surpassing the world's expectations.

12. I ate some number significantly larger than twenty-nine Chipotle burritos.

13. I made new friends that are like fountains of joy, and weeded out a few old drains.

14. I did something secret and amazing with my best friend. Something you still can't know about, but is still seriously worth noting.

15. I starred in a musical I actually loved.

16. I moved away from my childhood home to a beautiful college campus, where I'm expected to take care of and look after myself. (When my big sister isn't available, of course.)

17. On September 16, 2008, I was genuinely in love. The relationship ended at an undeterminable point during the months to follow, and it took most of the rest of this year to reach the point where I don't operate under a constant state of pain. I'm glad it happened, though, because on September 16, 2009, I will have relearned how to love myself, independent of another's opinions.

18. Less than a year ago, I began writing a blog. At first, it was just a way to pass the time. Now, it is consistently the most relaxing and meditative part of my day.

Eighteen is my lucky number, and I think I did it justice.

Sexy: The free ice cream I picked up this afternoon just from smiling and nodding as a ditzy blonde talked to me about the prospect of joining a sorrority. To be honest, I probably won't. The twist cone, however? Totally worth it.

Unsexy: Having to attend classes tomorrow! Doesn't the university realize it'll be my birthday? They can't expect me to listen to the world's quietest professor on my birthday!

Chipotle burritos this year: 29

Bagel Street visits this school year: 2

Subscribers: 20,408

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow, when I'll be a full nineteen years old. <3