Fettuccini Friends

Eating at a fancy restaurant is bitter sweet for me. I only get to eat out when it’s a special occasion…which usually means I have to dress up. For instance, last night was homecoming so a group of friends and I went out to eat at Cibo’s. The food was delicious, but it’s not like you can just stuff your face- you’re wearing pretty dresses, and you still have to take pictures. You actually have to act like a lady. Bummer. I somehow managed to not spill anything on myself-which I believe is a record.

I had fettuccini alfredo, which is my absolute favorite pasta dish. Well, either that or spaghetti, but for now we’ll just say it’s fettuccini. The food was absolutely amazing, and by the time dinner was over we were all so full we didn’t know if we were going to make it to the dance. Just kidding, we were having a blast, and nothing was going to ruin that night (and nothing did!).

The last blog post I wrote, I talked about inside jokes- and man did we make some good jokes at dinner last night! Sometimes I wish other people could hear how hilarious we really are, but I don’t think they would find us as funny as we find ourselves. I mean really, we could be comedians. Either way, dinner was so much fun and I’m glad I got the chance to go.

Even though I had to act like a lady, keeping my elbows off the table, placing my napkin on my lap, trying not to spill all over my dress, I had such a great time and I’m so glad I got to be with some of my best friends. Lately everyone has been busy with all the different things they do in life, so I don’t get to see them as often as I used to. Last night at dinner made up for the time lost, and I’m glad we had such a good time.

 

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Couch Cushion

                Inside jokes are one of my all time favorite things. The great thing about inside jokes is that you can create an inside joke with anyone, about anything. Seriously, just find something that makes you and at least one other person laugh, something that other people won’t understand, and BAM! Insta-inside joke!

                The inside joke I will share with you is one of my favorites. It is between me and my dad, and it is “Couch Cushion.” This inside joke came about while my dad and I were baking a cake. It comes from the show ‘My Strange Addiction’- have you ever seen it? There is an episode where a woman is addicted to eating couch cushion; yeah. You know the fluffy yellow stuff inside a couch, the filling? She ate that stuff. As we were baking our rainbow cake, I made the comment that the yellow layer of cake looked like couch cushion. My dad agreed and now every time we decide to bake a cake, we look at each other and say “couch cushion.” While we are eating the cake, we quote the woman from the TV show, “Couch cushion just makes me so happy.” This inside joke gets used a lot in my house. It sounds really stupid- but that's kind of the point of inside jokes.

                I’m not even kidding- we use this inside joke all the time. My mom yells at us every time we use it, because she finds it disgusting. If we so much as say “couch cushion” while she is eating a piece of cake, she throws the rest of her piece away, as she can’t stand to look at the colorful dessert any longer. She turns green in the face just thinking about eating couch cushion! This of course just makes my dad and I laugh even harder.

                Inside jokes never fail to make me laugh; I’ll be sitting in class some days and a random inside joke will pop into my head and I will randomly start giggling to myself…Kind of embarrassing, but if the people in the room understood the inside joke they would laugh with me. I hope this blog post didn’t disturb you to the point where you will have a hard time eating cake, as it did to my mom. If so, I’m sorry. If not, good! Next time you eat cake, look at it and you’ll see how much it resembles couch cushion. Happy eating!

 

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The Gift of Coordination

So this is my fifth week of blogging, and I’m not really sure what to blog about. What are you supposed to blog about after an entire month of blogging? What other topics should I write about? I thought maybe since it’s Monday I should enlighten everyone with some witty, creative blog…but I don’t know if I’m really up to that or not. I guess we’ll find out!

Today a friend of mine, whom I haven’t seen in way too long, visited me at school. She followed me around to all of my classes- and it was so much fun! I’m pretty sure my teachers didn’t really like having her, because she was kind of a distraction to me; but I’m okay with it, so my teachers just had to deal.

After school, we went to Dairy Queen (managing to get turned around on the way) for a sweet treat before she had to leave and go back home. Somehow I managed to get hot fudge in my hair, she wrote a letter on a napkin, and another friend of ours got strawberry smoothie in her eye. Obviously, we are very coordinated people. It takes true skill to get smoothie in your eye and hot fudge in your hair. Not even kidding, this is what my Monday consisted of. I’m telling you, Mondays just aren’t my thing! If you haven’t already read my blog about Mondays, now would be a good time to do that.

I also got a test back in my AP Chemistry class today, and I wasn’t pleased with the score. At all. My friend laughed and said I should probably retake it, because I stunk so bad. What are friends for, right? It's not like this test ruined my grade in that class (temporarily). Hello, dramatic sigh.

She also managed to embarrass me more than once today. The first time during a test in Pre Calc, the second in Physics, the third at lunch, the fourth in AP Lang; the list continues up until the moment she left, when I managed to trip getting into my car. That’s the image she is left with until the next time I see her: me falling over trying to get into my car. Once again: extreme coordination right here. Be jealous.

All in all, it was a great day. I got to see one of my closest friends, had a delicious ice-cream treat, made a complete fool of myself (a few times), and made some amazingly hilarious new inside jokes. I’m sad my friend had to go back to the magical land that is Des Moines, but I am very happy I got to see her. Even if it was on a dumb Monday.

 

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Luke Bryan, "I Don't Want This Night To End"

                It’s official. As of I-don’t-know-when Luke Bryan has officially become my all time favorite male vocalist. Country music has never been my favorite, but the way he sings makes country music less southern twang-y and more musically song-y. His songs are über catchy as well; it didn’t take long for his songs to start playing on repeat in my brain.

                I think my favorite song of his right now is “I Don’t Want This Night To End.” If you’d like to listen to it, the link is at the end of this blog. This song is so catchy! While I was taking tests in school on Friday, this song was going through my head. I mean, I was just sitting there taking a test, and BAM. “You got your hands up! Your rockin’ in my truck, you’ve got the radio on. You’re singin’ every song.” And then BAM. I don’t remember anything for the test and am forced to sit there with this amazing song going through my head. Don’t get me wrong, I love when this song goes through my head, but it’s almost too good. I want it to go through my head, just not when I’m trying to concentrate on something the song has nothing to do with.

                Whenever this song comes on Pandora radio, I turn it up as loud as I can and sing along with it- and though I’m not the greatest singer (who am I kidding, obviously I’m the next American Idol), I know every single word to this song.

                Luke Bryan, you are my new favorite singer. Your songs are amazing and catchy, and I love listening to them. If you ever read this last paragraph, you should know that I would love for you to write a song for me. That would be fantastic:) I recommend everyone should listen to this song- if you like it, comment! If not, please keep your feelings inside, because this is my favorite song and you shouldn’t be a mean person.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJq7qQP_Gvk

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Married to a Pretzel

The last few weeks, I have been looking for a weekend job to pay for all my expenses. Gas isn't cheap these days, and for a full time high school student, money isn't easy to come by. My parents make me pay for anything they wouldn't consider a necessity. Hence why I need the job. But here's the thing- no one wants to hire an inexperienced teenager, no matter how awesome I am. There is one job though, where your boss actually prefers if you are a teenager, and you know what that job is? Babysitting.

As I am sitting here writing this blog, I happen to be babysitting an eight year old (an eight year old who just read that last sentence and said she isn't eight, but seven and three quarters). I asked her what I should blog about, and she responded, "Me!" Where to begin...

I asked her to make a list of the things she liked most about me, and which things she didn't like so much about me. So here goes nothing.

She thinks my blog should be called "The Big Things" not "The Little Things." In her eyes, kids would be more attracted to a Big thing, such as they are at Christmas time. Every kid I know locks in on the biggest present under the Christmas tree, and completely ignores the little presents. Therefore, my blog is, to her, the little present long forgotten.

I'm the best babysitter ever! Her words not mine (although I do have to agree with them). Apparently if you act like a big kid, kids will like you better. Just getting the kid to laugh makes my job worthwhile. Personally, I think kids want to be just like me someday (because of how awesome I am, of course).

Boys are Gross! She made me pinky swear boys were gross after flipping through the pages of my yearbook. Second graders think boys have cooties. So I've been told, by a second grader, I'm not allowed to be with a boy "because then you will get cooties and I can't have a babysitter with boy cooties." Well that takes care of that!

Since I'm not allowed to be around boys, she has decided I will be married to a pretzel. She has just taken "arranged marriage" to a whole new level. Pretzels are a great after-school snack, so great in fact that they are good enough to marry! Apparently it's better to marry a pretzel rather than marry a man. Times have really changed, haven't they?

No matter what job I end up getting, babysitting will always be my first. I have learned so much, and experienced so many things you wouldn’t ordinarily get to practice in another work environment. I mean, who else can say they married a pretzel while on duty?

 

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Yearbook Day

                Yearbooks came out today, which means the only thing you can hear in classrooms is the quick turn of an expensive printed page being turned, followed by a gasp of distress at a not-so-great picture, or maybe a giggle at a fond memory brought back to the surface of their mind.

                I personally love yearbooks. Within their pages are the memories that made up our school years, countless days spent within these four walls, friends met through random chance, and extracurricular activities that made us who we are. Every step ever taken by a human in our high school is mentioned somewhere inside the lovely binding we call a yearbook. Page after page turned is another event worth the time to think about, each picture a remembrance of what went on that year, each description sealing these events in the past, and each name bringing on rounds of memories with the person it belongs to.

                 Every single year since kindergarten I have bought a yearbook (actually my dad bought every single one of the yearbooks for me, but you get the point). Over the summer I cleaned everything in my room, and I found all of my old yearbooks. It was kind of weird, to be honest with you. I mean, I still know some of these people- I had grown up with a lot of these familiar faces. Memories from when I was little came rushing back, and I let them. As I sat there in the mess that was my soon-to-be clean room, I realized how different things are now compared to my early days. In my first grade yearbook, my favorite food was chicken nuggets…pretty typical of your average six year old. Now my favorite food is fried pickles- in ten years my food preferences have totally changed- and I didn’t even realize it until I cracked open my forgotten yearbooks.

                I’ve also decided the people who take the yearbook pictures aren’t very nice. Seriously though, if a kid looks bad in their picture you should just retake it right then and there. But they don’t. ‘Cuz they’re mean. Speaking on behalf of all those who have had a ridiculously ridiculous picture end up in the yearbook, we don’t like the cameramen. Or the camerawomen either. Last year they said to me “smile on three! One-“ Click. Thanks for the two and three, lady. That really makes me feel better about having my picture in the yearbook.

                Yearbook day is always the best. No matter how terrible your picture turns out, you’re not alone. Each yearbook tells its own story of how the year progressed, and the memories that come to you while reading your yearbooks never fail to amaze you. Though things may be in the past now, you will always be able look back in your yearbook and remember who you were back then. But the best part about yearbook day? They’re just another distraction in the classroom for us students.

 

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Preparing Effie

                Right now, I am sitting on my bed trying to do homework…on a Friday night. This is a very rare occasion- usually my homework is put aside and forgotten about until Sunday afternoon. Sometime yesterday my new laptop arrived in the mail, and it has been distracting me ever since. From my point of view, given the choice of doing homework (the right thing to do) or messing around on my computer (the more fun thing to do) obviously I’m going to choose the latter. I have to say though, my Pre-Calculus homework is already done. So there.

                Instead of finishing my homework this evening, a couple of friends and I went to the craft store and bought a bunch of fabric and supplies to begin making our Halloween costumes. I realize it’s only September, but since we are making our costumes from scratch, we thought it would be best to start now. Time wise I think we made a good decision to start earlier. Our costumes look great so far, even though they are nowhere near finished.

                My computer has been helping us with our project all evening; it has looked up pictures for references, played upbeat songs to get us in the crafty mood, and distracted us when we least needed to be distracted.

                I suppose I should tell you a little about our costumes. I’m assuming you’ve heard of the Hunger Games? If not, I’m assuming you live under a rock…I’m pretty sure everyone knows what the Hunger Games are. Anyway, my friend and I are going as Effie Trinket, a flamboyant and colorful woman who is not afraid to dress as outlandishly as possible. In the Hunger Games movie, the character Effie wears a few wild outfits. From extremely large hair and accessories, to expertly tailored “Lady GaGa looking” outfits, Effie has got it going on. And on Halloween my friend and I will be doing the same.

                Effie’s makeup. Need I say more? Look up her makeup if you are unfamiliar with what I am talking about. Effie’s makeup is the most gaudy, bright, insane creation. Her blush is rich in pigment, as are her multicolored eye shadows which were made to accent her pursed lips. Caution: when using ColorStay 24 hour Eye Shadow, it really does stay on for an extended period of time- it doesn’t come off easily…fair warning.

                Instead of doing homework tonight, I decided to use my laptop to bring a fictional character to life. From the 2D image on the computer to real life, my friends and I have recreated a character only seen in movies and imaginations. Not that you should follow in my footsteps and procrastinate homework to do something a lot more fun and entertaining, but life was more amusing with fictional makeup and whimsical costumes.

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Teachers and Their Double Lives

                It’s Thursday, the day I have to work at the hospital, the day spicy chicken is in the cafeteria, and the day teachers decide to lay on the homework. What do all three of these Thursday activities have in common? Besides being Thursday activities, they are unrelated in every way. I just thought I would try and grab your attention while I mindlessly babble over this blog.

                I’m not sure what it is about teachers, but I think they live a double life. My theory is that they get together in some super-secret lair and plan when to give students homework. I mean if you think about it, there will be days when none of your teachers give you any homework- those days are always the best! Then there are those days where every single teacher you have decides to assign a bunch of stuff no kid wants to do. It’s insane! Tonight is one of those nights, and I have to admit the whole load of homework didn’t get done.

                What if teachers really do live double lives? What kind of double life would they have; would they have the Hannah Montana/ Miley Cyrus double life, or maybe the Peter Parker/ Spiderman double life… It’s kind of fun to think about, isn’t it?

                And what if they do live double lives? Sneaking around devising ways to ruin students’ sleep schedules by assigning so much homework they don’t go to bed until the early hours of the morning- and then they complain when we fall asleep in class?! Not fair. And all because of a double life.

                Another double life teachers live: their lives outside of the classroom. I know, a teacher not at school? As strange as it sounds, teachers actually have lives outside of the seven hours of hell we call school. I don’t know about you, but I always like to run into teachers at the store and see them with their families- you may think that’s odd of me to say, but keep in mind I’m the one writing about teachers and their double lives. It fascinates me that these people who lecture us, give us harsh grades, assign an overload of homework, and take away our cell phones while we are using them- these people we spend all day with actually go home and spend time with their families.

                Or maybe they don’t go home to their families right away. Maybe they are down in their secret lairs with their evil homework devising capes on, their minds whirring with thoughts of how they could possibly make our lives that much more difficult on any given Thursday night. And tomorrow they will act like nothing happened and go on with their lesson like it’s no big deal. That, my friends, is what I call a double life.

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Bad Case of the Mondays

                It’s Monday, which means everyone is tired and cranky. No one wants to go to school or work, we all just want to stay home in our pajamas and stuff our faces with junk food while watching our favorite movies. Unless you’re one of those crazy Monday-loving people, I just described you pretty accurately. Yet here I am, blogging- actually trying to be productive. Maybe I’m being productive because I’m in school and the teacher can see what I’m doing, maybe because I don’t want to do this assignment later tonight, whatever the reason is I’m doing it.

                I’ve always wondered why people hated Mondays, myself included. I think it’s because you actually have to do what needs to be done; it’s not the weekend anymore, you have to get off your butt and fix what needs to be fixed, or finish what has been started.  Mondays are like the start of school, just in a shorter time frame. No kid wants school to start after a great summer- who wants a Monday to start after a great weekend? Mondays create the “summer is over” feeling, but they don’t just do it once a year. Mondays make the sad, why-does-school-have-to-start feeling every single weekend. That’s 32 times per school year Mondays upset 99.9% of students (I made the percent up, I have no idea what the true number is).

                The worst part of Monday is getting up in the morning. When my alarm went off this morning, I slammed my hand down on the snooze button, just like every other morning. Except this time I missed the snooze button and hit the radio button, which caused a sudden blaring of noise through the peaceful quiet of my sleeping house. Do you think the radio could have been playing a song, though? Nope. It blared commercials until I could find the button to shut it off. I went back to bed after that, thinking I still deserved my Monday morning sleep. My half-awake self had turned off the alarm, missed the snooze button, and fallen back asleep. Needless to say, I woke up with 15 minutes before I had to leave for school. Ouch.

                Mondays. One of life’s greatest hardships (almost as bad as starvation or natural disasters… imagine if a natural disaster happened on a Monday… Double Ouch.). Mondays are just a horrible way to start a fantastic week. And who knows- maybe one of these Mondays something amazing will happen to you (maybe you’ll win the lottery, maybe you’ll buy a magic pet fish, maybe the school lunch will have good food) but whatever it is, I hope your Mondays end up better than mine.

 

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Someday

                Remember when you were little and everyone would ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up? I do, and I remember some of my ridiculous answers as well. I wanted to be an astronaut; not just any astronaut would do, I wanted to be the astronaut who ruled the universe. I wanted to be a Queen, a teacher, a vampire, an actress, a singer, Po from the Telly-Tubbies, and then there was one more. I wanted to be a doctor.

                For years now, that last one has stuck. To this day, my dream is to become a doctor. According to my parents I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. My dad tells the story of when he could first tell I was going to be a doctor someday. It was the day my brother was born, and my dad and I were walking around the hospital. Dad said I would look at the different machines with a look of wonder, curiosity plain on my face. Every time he tells the story, he mentions that that was the exact moment he knew I would work in a hospital environment. Oh, I forgot to tell you. This moment happened shortly after I turned two years old.

                I’ve always been interested in the medical field; I just had no idea where I wanted to go with it. Did I want to become a surgeon? For a while, I did. Then I looked into cardiology, and I fell in love. I was mesmerized by the different things it could do, how amazing and complex it really was.

                And then life got busy. I was going to school, taking AP classes, working, volunteering- I was constantly on the move. On the weekends if I needed a little extra money, I would babysit. My mom says I’m a kid magnet; everywhere I go, a kid is sure to follow. When I told her that I wanted to be a cardiologist, she paused for a minute. She then proceeded to ask, “Could you do that job for kids instead of adults?” I was confused at first, why would she want me to work with kids? Is there really that big of a difference between treating an adult and treating a child? Mom then said, “You are so good with kids, why don’t you apply that gift towards what you already had in mind?” And you know what? I actually took her advice and am now looking into pediatric cardiology. To do what I really want to do, and to do what I’m good at as well.

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Papa

                For awhile now I’ve needed to write another blog, but I had no idea what to write about. Writer’s block hit me hard, and I thought and I struggled to come up with a topic. I even recruited my mom to help me think of an idea, and you know what? She actually helped! I know a helpful parent? So uncommon these days. Just kidding. Kinda.

                She told me to write about my grandpa, who passed away a year and a half ago. Papa was the greatest man ever. He was the ultimate craftsman, the ultimate chef, and most importantly the ultimate grandpa.

                Papa always put his family before himself. Nothing meant more to him than his family. If something was wrong, Papa was the first one to notice, and the first one to fix the problem. He knew when to make you laugh, and how to calm you down. He was the one who kissed boo-boo’s when we fell down, and he was the one who was up to anything. Even the most outrageous schemes us kids would come up with, Papa would go along with them. He would build us the best pillow/chair/blanket fort ever, and taught all us grandchildren how to fly a kite. He gave me my first fish tank on my seventh birthday. On the day I was born, he walked into the hospital with a pink balloon and a fishing pole. I used that fishing pole until it became too small to use. Papa was a religious man who went to church every Sunday; come rain or shine, he was there ready to sing as loud and off key as possible. Every Easter he would make Polish sausage- his was always the best. He would wear a Santa hat every Christmas, to match his white beard. He would read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas as many times as we asked him to, without complaint. He would play baseball in the backyard with us, even though we stunk. He would help us chop up wood to teach us how to build a proper fire. He built us whatever we wanted him to build: toy cars, baby cradles, rocking horses.

                But the best thing about Papa? He had the one thing not a lot of people have anymore. He loved unconditionally. It didn’t matter what you looked like, it didn’t matter what you wore, it didn’t matter who you were. Papa loved you at your absolute worst, so that he could be there for you at your absolute best. He was the greatest Papa ever, and no one will ever be able to replace the amazing relationship he and I had.

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Little Things Taken for Granted

                Do you ever have those days where you feel bad for saying something? I’m having one of those days right now. Yesterday afternoon I had to get sutures on the backside of my left shoulder. The numbing process burned, but for the rest of the procedure, I didn’t feel a thing. Later that evening though, I began to have growing discomfort. As the night progressed, the pain in my shoulder grew, until eventually I was to the point of uneasiness. Apparently discomfort is totally normal- something the doctor had conveniently forgotten to mention.  After learning it was normal, I calmed down and took some Ibuprofen, thinking this was the worst it would get. The challenges continued however when I remembered the doctor said I wasn’t supposed to get soap in the wound during a shower. Yeah. Try showering without getting your left shoulder wet. Far easier said than done. I swear my stitches are in the most awkward spot possible; I can’t lug my backpack around on my left shoulder, I can’t sleep flat on my back or while laying on my left side, I can’t tip my head back to finish the last few sips of a beverage…and I realized that all this had occurred, and I haven’t even had these stitches for more than 24 hours yet.

               This is the point where I start to feel bad for complaining. There are people in the world that have far worse injuries, people who are in far worse condition than I am, yet I have the guts to complain about a small wound on my shoulder. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it is uncomfortable. No, I am not the most unlucky person out there in the world. I volunteer at the biggest hospital in my city; every time I volunteer, I meet people who have pretty severe wounds. Some have to have surgery and end up spending a night or two at the hospital. I didn’t have to do that. My sutures were put in, and then I went home. The procedure took 20 minutes, tops. In a week I will get them removed. There are people out there that wished that’s all there was to their injury, but here I am grouchy and upset over this one trivial wound.

                Working in a hospital environment, helping others with their medical incidents has better prepared me for what was to come. It’s different being on this end, where others are helping me with my medical event. Thank goodness I’m alright! Everything in the last day has shown me that you really can’t take anything for granted (sleeping a certain way, drinking the last few drops of a drink, showering without worrying about getting soap on your shoulder). Anything could happen at any given moment, and it’s times like these that I appreciate the little things in my life.

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Homecoming

                Homecoming: a school dance that occurs once a year. It’s the day where guys pull out their ties and girls go out and spend their parents’ hard earned money on the perfect dress. I’m not sure how it works in the guy world, but in the girl world, there are some unspoken rules.

                One: You don’t buy a dress just because you like it. Your first thought is to buy a dress to out-dress every other girl there. The dress you buy has to look expensive, and has to be a dress no other girl is wearing to the event. It has to complement your figure, but still have the “wow factor.”

                Two: The guy has to ask the girl to homecoming, not the other way around. Girls ask guys to WPA (women pay all), but homecoming is the time for the guys to shine. Guys are put in the spotlight as they come up with creative ways to ask a girl to homecoming. Not many girls want just a simple “Will you go to homecoming with me?” and they definitely don’t want to get asked over text. The pressure is on for the guys to find a unique way to win the girl over.

                Three: Homecoming Royalty. At our school, only seniors can be elected for homecoming king and queen. The entire school gets to vote on who they think should be queen and king. In the week leading up to the big night, an all school assembly is held, where the contestants running to be king and queen are asked questions, so that everyone can see what the contestants are like, and base their decision on who they liked the best. The king and queen are announced at the Friday night homecoming game.

                Four: The Homecoming Game. The day before homecoming is the homecoming game, where we take on the easiest team so that we are guaranteed a win. Right before the game starts, homecoming king and queen are announced. All the contestants line up and the crowns are placed on the winners. The king and queen wear their crowns to the dance the next day. The game itself is wild. Where I stand, the homecoming game is never watched, everyone is just there to socialize. Every time the parents cheer, we take it as our cue to cheer as well. The student section decks out in our school’s colors, and have a good time before the dance has even begun.

                Five: The Dance. The most important part of homecoming. The entire week has been leading up to this one moment, and the time has come for girls to get their hair and make-up on, and to put on their dream dresses. The guys do their thing too, I guess… I wouldn’t know, as I’m not a guy. The rest of the story is up to you- did the guy and the girl dance the night away? Did she spill something on her dress while eating dinner? Anything could happen on this one exciting night.

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