The Case For Complaining and Worrying About Things Arbitrarily

It's funny how three and a half minutes can put me in my place.

My life is not bad. My life is not particularly hard. I really have almost no legitimate grievances with my personal state of being. I shouldn't complain about things. But, I do. A sampling of such things: (just from today, mind you...)

--It's HOOOOOT.

--I got almost no sleep last night because it was HOOOOOT.

--I had to get up at 7 in the morning today.

--I have blisters on the backs of my heels and they hurt like mad.

--I have 8 mosquito bites on my left ankle and they itch like mad.

--I have writer's block.

Are any of these things life-threatening to me? Not really.* Yet they're what I think about. Things like the video about Esther and the HPA make me feel sort of guilty that these things are what I devote my worry to. The world is much bigger and could be much worse than the part of it I see. But in a way, that ignorance is sanity. If my time was spent worrying about all the issues and tragedies and just plain bad shit that happens to everyone-who-is-not-me in the entire universe my brain would explode. Thinking about distressing things but knowing that you have no realistic control over them produces a mind-bending amount of stress and a sense of personal worthlessness. **

So, I present the idea that vapid, personal small-worry is good. It's distracting. Not, like, bad-distracting...in a more prioritizing-type way. ("Okay, there's a splinter in everyone's eye but there is a motherfucking plank in yours. Like, it's probably really damn painful. Possibly held in place by a rusty nail. What are you going to do first?"***) It has focus. Steps can be taken to fix it. Once it is fixed it feels like an accomplishment; it's relaxing to have nothing trivial to angst over, and then the focus can be directed towards concern on a more global scale. Which is good.

Does this make any sense or am I just yammering my way around the fact that, basically, I'm sorry other people but I kind of enjoy being wrapped up in myself? I don't know anymore, on with the footnotes:

* Though it could be argued that this list encompasses global warming and the threat of death by sleep-deprivation...

** I was like this for a bit. It's depressing and infuriating if you dwell on it. So what I'm trying to say here is: don't.

*** Bible quote (probably unsuccessfully) paraphrased. I added the rusty nail.

meh

*EDIT/Preamble*
I just watched this video and now I feel like an even bigger jerkface. Gosh, I don't know what to say except... mrrrrrghgksljsfkakalf I don't understand how the world can be so incredibly good and so incredibly bad at the same time. Also, I no longer believe that I have any right to complain about anything today. I'm sorry, I don't know how to articulate what I'm feeling, partially because I'm not sure what that emotion is, but... yeah. Perhaps you understand.

Today's blog post comes to you in the first five letters of the alphabet:

a) The fourth of July was really fun, as it always is. I hung out with some friends and a quasi-stranger (but nice) guy from Texas and then walked over to the nearby college and watched the fireworks. We sat around playing cards for an hour and a half or something and it was so nice to just be. To just be there and enjoy our time together and celebrate our country.

I've never understood people who are content with watching the fireworks on TV. Nothing can replace that amazing feeling of being in close proximity to hundreds of other people who are all there for the same reason. Besides, TVs can't transmit that ground-shakin' (hand-clappin'!) firework-blastin' boom. I mean, who wants to miss those precious seconds during which you genuinely fear the loss of your hearing?

b) Have you ever gotten irrationally overprotective when a friend started liking something you like? It would have been fine if we both liked this thing to begin with and then happened to find out that we both liked that something later on, but because I've always liked this and a friend just started liking it, it kind of pisses me off. Normally, I don't mind; in fact, it's kind of cool, because it's one more person to join the party, you know? Right now, though, I sincerely wish they had never heard of it. I think it's because it's something that I love a lot (no, not Harry Potter) and it has a really special meaning to me, and from my previous experiences with this person, I guess I just feel like this person doesn't appreciate that. I'm sure I sound like an asshole right now and I'm sorry, but I guess I just don't want them to trivialize it because it's so important to me and I really don't think they understand that. I think they just think it makes them "cool" and "unique" and "indie" for liking it, when in reality, a) it truthfully doesn't and b) even if it did, that's not at all what it's about.

(I'm sorry for being vague; I don't want to get into specifics and then be an even bigger jerk for talking about them on the internet...)

c) With the obvious exception of wizard rock, I rarely listen to "indie rock." It's too difficult to keep up with, and more importantly, it is often too crappy to endure. However, I have somewhat recently discovered this band known as The Indelicates and I sort of love them a lot? If you're interested, I recommend listening to this and this and this. (And another one called "Our Daughters Will Never Be Free," but I can't find a good version of it on Youtube.)

d) I'm really trying not to be mad at the organizers of Roflcoptour, because I understand that they can only play where they have a venue and they can't stop in every state and they don't have tons of money or time... but I am certainly mad at the circumstances, at least. Originally, their 7/22 show was going to be MD, VA, or DC. And then they changed it to MD, VA, DC, PA, or NJ. And now it's confirmed to be in NJ. And I am starting to realize why people hate New Jersey so much... it takes your dreams and EATS them. Screw you, New Jersey.

...Perhaps I am being harsh. I don't hate New Jersey, even if I am incredibly jealous of it right now. Still, this sucks. Like, nobody I love comes to DC and I don't understand WHY. It's the frigging capital of the country; surely there is a law about this?

ALSO ALSO ALSO, they are playing TWO shows in North Carolina! TWO! I mapquested them because I was pissed off and they are either half an hour or four and a half hours away from each other, depending on the location of the second town... so I will give them the benefit of the doubt and say they are four hours away from each other... but STILL, the fact that there are two shows in one state and yet there are none near me makes me want to cry. And yes, I am only about two and a half hours away from NJ, but a) my parents are definitely not going to drive me that far to see some show that they don't care about and b) even if they were willing, I have driving school that day and while I could make the show IF it were close-ish to me, I can't freaking skip driving school to see Roflcoptour, much as I wish I could! UGH.

e) Currently, I'm reading Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison, Les Justes by Albert Camus, and I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak. The first two are for my English and French classes respectively. I should clarify that when I say "I am reading," I mean that I read thirteen pages of Song of Solomon about a week ago and haven't picked it up since and that I intend to read Les Justes in the near future. I'm sure they're both very good; it's just that the first is difficult to get into at first and the second is, er, in French.

A General Update

It's 11:02 and I'm tired so rather than come up with something meaningful to write, I thought I'd give you a brief update on the goings on of my oh-so exciting existence.

Update 1: My keyboard is spazzing out. The keys are being difficult and I have to work twice as hard at typing.

Update 2: My sister saw Kellan Lutz (who plays Emmet) at the Eclipse premier in London but she said that she would have rather seen How To Train Your Dragon with me (which, incidentally, is a very enjoyable movie). I do miss my sister.

Update 3: Eclipse was mediocre. The third time is apparently not the charm. I feel really bad for Taylor Lautner due to the fact that he must feel horribly objectified what with not being allowed to wear a shirt ever. Rpattz is, as ever, himself. Kristen seems to be grasping at straws to show emotion. Charlie remains the best character they have in that... (series, saga, movie, atrocitity...) whatever it is.

We--being my strange posse and I--did dress up as Harry Potter characters for the midnight release. I knit myself a tie and wore it and it was generally awesome.

Update 4: At the Eclipse midnight showing, as we were walking through the parking lot someone yelled out there window to ask what corner we were working, making a prostitute reference. It must be said that one of us, not me, was wearing a rather short skirt but, even so, these things are hardly appropriate. We did not think to yell back "Ask your mom," though, if we had, it would have given us immense satisfaction.

Update 5: I read a crazy good book called Thirteen Reasons Why (by Jay Asher). It was the first time this summer that I stayed up until 3:30am reading a book but I had to finish it, for some reason. Note: suicide is ridiculously selfish. That is all.

Update 6: It's not all that warm here. Apparently, it's going to get hot on Tuesday but I'll believe it when I don't have to wear a sweater around my house anymore.

Update 7: I've started watching Glee.

I think that's it. Well, no, there's probably more but that's all you're getting tonight. I shall be more lively on Thursday, in theory.

Apple Pie is Dutch (updated)

Very, very late. But since the blog is set to Alex's timezone I'm not. I had a semi-blog planned in continuation of discussion of naming/parenting/small children. But I'm sleepy. List of things:

--Saw incredible fireworks (a day early, but who cares? More tomorrow.)

--Ate the best apple pie I have ever had in my (albeit short) life.

--I have a problem with people who take pictures of fireworks. They're meant to be ephemeral little bursts; the point is that they're pretty for two seconds and then dissolve into smoke and memories. They will have still existed even if you don't have photographic evidence of them. To me that's like cheating.

--Am very, very tired. Going to indulge myself and sleep on the couch.

Explanation/continuation later. Check back soon kthnxbaignight.

----marking passage of time line----

And so: it is now Sunday night and my day has gone kind of the same. Minus pie, and that makes me sad. Also plus mosquitoes, which makes me sadder. Going to sleep on the couch again, it's cooler (and impervious to the sound of fireworks) in my basement. I'm still short enough to fit across it comfortably, and it's all cushiony. It's like camping or something, I don't know. I just really prefer couches to beds in general for sleeping purposes--in bed it's like sleeping is imperative, couches present more options: reading, talking, the lulling quality of television, anything you can do sitting down. Plus the knowledge that you're sleeping on something you shouldn't but doing it anyway.

Have you ever had the fact that you look like a *insert name here* come up in conversation? It's odd. Never just *name*, either-- A *name*. As if all people in the world with that name are in some sort of category based on looks. I get Jessica and Amy a lot. I don't look like anyone but myself, to myself. ("Renata" is not the sort of name someone would probably pick at random, though. It's not even recognized by spellcheck.) I don't get it. Do I look like someone the person making this observation knows named Jessica? Are they cleverly following the sociological trend in baby naming and deduced that Jessica was the most popular name given to girls in the year I was born? Are they offering it as a suggestion if I ever want to change my name? By the same token, though, it's kind of interesting to see what people associate with a certain name (and the defiance of them, like Vita's excerpt. Like a total pacifist-vegan-Jewish guy named Adolf. Except that would be more like irony. . . but seriously, what do you expect from anyone named Adolf?). I can't come up with any real stereotypes for the name Jessica (generic, pleasant enough probably), nor do I think I fit them.

Or I'm overthinking this and it's harmless smalltalk that even I've subjected others to. (That and the "guess my middle name" game...)

Oh, and the 'ignoring your infants makes them self-sufficient' theory is in my opinion kind of crap. Babies need to be babied--that's why it's a flipping VERB. It's what you DO to babies. At some point this can stop before it reaches spoiling them, but since I'm not a parent I can't estimate this well. . . I'd suggest before they learn to be manipulative.* During the course of this editing, I've been listening to this in a continuous loop. Enjoy...

Footnote: This requires knowledge of said child. I used to lie face-down, unmoving, in the middle of the floor to freak my parents out when I was around 3.

An Excerpt from an Ironically Untitled and Largely Unfinished Novel (erlack)

Condemning your flailing and defenseless newborn child to be known evermore as “Vladimir” is admittedly... strange. It’s sort of like calling your daughter “Violetta” in the hopes that she will blossom into a reserved yet wildly creative poet with skin four times more ivory than your own and with dark flowing tresses straight out of an American Gothic. Or like naming your son “George” in an attempt to preemptively protect him from drugs and steer him towards a higher caliber of society where he will make friends with the similarly well-bred James and Phillips. Except it’s worse than both of those because at least Violetta has a certain quaint flair to it and George is still pretty socially accepted, even if it does demand a necessary ass-kicking at some point in the poor guy’s life.

(Seriously. People in this town aren't patriotic because they love America but because they, like, detest England. When I was in fifth grade, our Revolutionary War unit coincided with Halloween. The boys in my class forced this kid George to dress up as King George III just so they could be American Rebels and shoot him with Nerf guns. Tragically, the rebels wouldn't accept a white flag from him until our teacher - she was dressed as Sandra Day O'Connor - intervened and made everyone sing him an "I'm Sorry" song.)

(We're also big on creativity.)

Personally, I think my parents' chose name for me is currently contributing to my slight narcissism problem. Some people (my mom) call it being conceited, but I swear I'm not. I mean, I'm not obsessed with my hair or anything. That would be a total waste of time, considering my face does what it wants whether I give a damn. It's just that every time I visualize a “Kelly,” I see this soccer mom with a bad blond dye job inhaling jelly doughnut after jelly doughnut. Then I have to go look in a mirror and make sure I'm still sixteen and childless.

Anyway, being a Vladimir sucks. The weird thing is, his parents are totally normal. You would think that they're into creepy underground vampire cult shit, but they're not. They're Unitarian Universalists for God's sake. They've let me know that overly pale skin gives them the "heebie-jeebies" ("No offense," his mom quickly added, looking down at my undeniably pasty complexion). It's just that they have this name fetish, and one early morning in May when a hospital nurse came knocking on their door in the maternity wing, something possessed them to take in their baby's curly blond hair, his chubby arms, his cherubic face, and write down "Vladimir Phillip Rankin" on the birth certificate.

"They're taking it out on me," Vlad told me once.

"What do they have to take out on you?" I asked him. "They're in love with you. If incest wasn't illegal, they probably would have proposed to you by now."

"That's disgusting," he said. "Also, no, because they don't want a suicidal son. Also, polygamy is illegal, so I couldn't be married to two people at once. So basically, no."

I shrugged at him and gave him my best gloomy eyes look, which involves me pretending to be a sad puppy. He flicked a paper clip at my head.

"But seriously, think about it. They've dealt with being called Raleigh and Gladys their entire lives. I think they, like, subconsciously hate everyone with a better name than them. They probably made me a Vladimir to make themselves feel better."

He had a point, though. I've seen them at my parents' parties. Even if Raleigh and Gladys were in a corner snorting Ecstasy, people would ask them why they aren't happy. "Aren't you supposed to be really glad?" they inquire, barely concealing their smirking mouths, thinking they're being original and clever.

This is why I hate people. People are never original or clever. They're usually just annoying.


---

YO YO YO! Right, well, that's a sort of "glimpse," if you will, from my brand-new novel type jaunt. It doesn't really have a plot yet? Or anything else? But that's okay? And I'm going to stop writing in question form now.

Basically it's about somebody called Kelly, who I have kindly drawn for you in Paint, and her potential boyfriend Vladimir (I mean "potential" as in "I haven't figured it out yet so for now we're just going to say they're dating"). Also it's about how we perceive people based on their names. And stuff.

(Don't give me that look. I'm only about 1,000 words in. I have time...)

Haaaaa so sorry if it's not very good right now; it's 12:19 am and I have been awake for far too long today/yesterday so I don't really have a filter right now, but um, yeah. Just wanted to share that with you/I'm too lazy to write an actual blog post today/yesterday.

P.S., I can't draw in real life and drawing using a touch pad on a laptop is even harder, so please don't judge my lovely lovely picture KAY THANKS. (Just kidding; you can judge it, I won't mind. I mean... it's sort of like a Picasso, except instead of being awesome and abstract, it really just sucks. whoooo)

:)

Babies

I've had a strange upbringing. We all have, I suppose, but I can't help thinking how remarkably different I am from my peers. The weirdest part, though, is how okay I am with that. I've gotten over the part of my life where I wanted to fit in. Mostly. I mean, I still like wearing skinny jeans and having my hair straight, but I do that for me, not them. And yes, sometimes I get that weird twinge of wanting to fit in. Wanting to go out and buy pretty, trendy clothes and talk about boys and silly, vain things that don't really interest me. But then I blink and go back to laughing about how awesome and fun it is to dress up as a Ravenclaw student and go see Eclipse at midnight on a Wednesday night.

Being nerdy is so much fun and I'd rather fit in that way than attempting to conform to a cutout.

Then someone says something and I'm struck by how wrong they are. Not in a 'I'm right and you're wrong' way, but in a 'My beliefs and opinions are startlingly different from most other people's'.

Exhibit A

(Not sure if either of you watch my video blog so forgive me if I'm repeating myself) My friend said the other day that you can't always go to your baby when it's crying because if you do it'll get spoiled and too accustomed to you coming around. It made sense in context. I couldn't really say anything. I was just struck by how much I disagreed. Then I said something about how ignoring your baby is similar to ignoring another person and their needs. It's like saying, "Oh, I can't listen to what you're saying right now because otherwise you'll get too used to being treated well." Maybe that's harsh but that's how I see it.

Feel free to disagree with me (not sure why I need to say this, but I'm putting it out there). I know attachment parenting is foreign to some people. I understand the spoiled myth and where it comes from. But really, wouldn't you rather have a "spoiled" child who knows that you love them than a neglected child who feels like you don't care?

I'm not a parent. And I don't think you should give your child whatever they want, whenever they want it. I'm not advocating being a total pushover who folds to their child's every whim. I'm just saying that if you're wondering why your teenager doesn't trust you, think back to when they were an infant and maybe it'll connect. Or maybe it won't.

Also, if your baby realizes that you'll come every time it cries and then it starts crying more often just to see you, maybe you're not spending enough time holding your baby.

There's a lot more to this. Parenting is kind of a controversial thing. I'm going to go though without giving you the slightest review on Eclipse. Maybe Sunday. I hear fireworks in the background. Yay Canada? Though, really, as made apparent by Wheezy Waiter, Canada wasn't fulled independent until 1982. So that's nice.