Answer: Rudolph

I crumpled up a receipt today and it took a bite out of my skin. I've never experienced this before.

Christmas. Did it even happen? It went by so fast. It was lovely though. I have never felt so happy to feel so fat. The whole day I ate manicotti and stayed in my pjs. It was amazing. I have found the secret to finding happiness (as far as gifts go). This year there wasn't much that I wanted. I didn't make a list. I mentioned things that I would like or that I needed but nothing that I was really hoping for. When gift time rolled around, I wasn't disappointed with anything. I got awkward necklaces and Ratatouille-- and I loved it.

I have the chance to drive a golf cart and get paid to do it. It's exciting just to think about.

There's a guy who comes into work quite often and people call him "Jesus Joseph". Regular customers have nicknames like "Plastic Chris" "Pug Nose" "Lip Gloss". Sure, we know names, but we're most likely to remember nicknames and drinks. Joseph is the type of person to pass out tracks or leave them in seat cushions. Don't get me wrong, it's awesome that he loves Jesus. It's cool that he's bold enough to give someone a track. Hey, I love Jesus just as much as Mary but I don't think Joseph handles people in the best way. I am one of only two people from work that goes to church on a regular basis. My co-workers find Jesus Joe to be arrogant and an idiot. He's a nice guy but he always seems to have an ulterior motive. He has a 'holier than thou' complex and I don't appreciate it. It turns non-Christians off. It turns me off. I just think that the overly-nice attitude and throwing a moral superiority into every conversation isn't the best way to get people saved. I mean, when someone says "Hey, watch your stuff. That lady steals things." His response shouldn't be, "Well, I don't like to talk about people." What? Fine, let her steal your things. Next time I won't be nice and warn you. He's making things harder for me.

Lots of laundry to get done and a room to clean-- Peace out.


I killed a man with this thumb.
--Carmen

Love.

Oh, the things I find when I look through old papers.

"Sometimes I pretend to know what it's like to fall in love-- usually after watching some sappy chick-flick-- because, to be honest, I've never experienced it. I imagine it's like constant happiness. Like a lifetime of sunshine packed into every second. Like the perfect snowfall. Like a good book. Like rain. Like every good thing that makes me smile. It has to be hard. Love. It must be hard deciding who to love, or how much to love, or if it's worth it. But when I imagine it, it has to be worth it. I imagine a heart skipping a beat. Sweaty hands. Stammered words. Loss of breath. Symptoms of a heart attack. I could be wrong about love. Maybe it's ordinary, gradual, almost unnoticeable. I'm no expert, but if I haven't experienced it yet and it's so strived for, there has to be a snowfall/rain/book/sunshine effect; if not, then why would I want it? I have to imagine it's special and something worth waiting for because if it's not, I'll be sorely disappointed. I always viewed love as life changing. Earth shattering. Maybe this is the thinking of a naive girl. Maybe I won't ride in a pumpkin carriage or get awakened from a deep sleep by a kiss but I don't really need this. I just want goose-bumps. Shivers. That startled feeling like when thunder rolls. My brother says he's in love. So does my sister. I think this to be completely bizarre. How do they know what love is? How do I get it? How will I know? What if love isn't like what I'm expecting and I miss it? Wouldn't that be terrible. To miss love. Sometimes I think I'll miss it. Sometimes I think I have missed it. Really, I imagine I'll just know. That stupid "love at first sight", deep down inside I believe this. I hate myself for believing this. I know it's not true and I tell myself it's not true, but I still go on believing it. I like to think I'm entitled to believe this since I've never experienced it. I don't know any better. More than anything, I wish I get it. I'm missing out and I know it. It's too bad there needs to be another person in order to love, because without this person, I'm stuck. Maybe that's what makes it so special. But I want to be unstuck. I want sunshine. I want snow."

--Carmen

Clash-Bang!

...there are no words. Curious to view my grades, I check online and I didn't expect to see any grades posted yet since I notice that professors like to make me sweat (and last I checked I only had my health grade (A)). I got a B in my geology class! I went running around the house with this news. I am so excited! I was hoping to get a C. But I got a B! I... have so much relief in my soul. I seriously thought I was going to fail the class. I... no words could express my happiness. I am so relieved. I am so happy. I am so excited. Permanent. Happiness.

Alright, my ora is clear and it is brimming full of sunshine.

I cut off all my hair. I had probably 7 inches cut off. I'm trying to get it healthy again since I've died it black, brown, blond, red, highlighted, etc. Now it's pretty close to my natural brown and short. Short=shoulders. I think I like it. It's just short.

I'm officially on winter break. I had my last final today--which means I was stuck in a room writing my heart out for over two hours--so I will be sleeping a lot, and working a lot.

Only one more thing to buy and I am done shopping. Well, I have to make one-- but I don't count that. My family is done and that is the hardest part.

I got a B.

Let me tell you about the greatest night of my life. On Saturday my best pal says "Carmen, you have to get Saturday night off so we can go see this show." I don't know... "Carmen, you have to get it off." But that means I have to call people... "Carmen, get it off!" Alright. I will call one person and see if she can switch and... Oh, you can work Saturday night? Uh, yeah, okay, I have Saturday night off. I work from 10-5 and then immediately leave from there to go to Tremont for some clash-bang hardcore music fest. It's 45 degrees outside and it's raining. We drive there and we look through the doors and we had no desire to go in. A big factor was that the band that was playing sucked. Sara, lets get some coffee. We leave and it's raining. We get some coffee. We get some Qdoba. Carmen, throw away your food. We're going to do something amazing. You don't mean...? I throw away my trash and we go jumping through puddles. It was freezing and it was raining and I was soaked all the way up to my waist and that's without exaggerating. I had so much fun. I'll probably get pneumonia but that was honestly one of the funnest nights ever. My shoes are still wet. We kept going into GameStop to "visit John" (which is code for needing a warm place in order to feel our feet so we can go back outside and jump around in the dark.) Old people in McAlister's were smiling at us. It was amazing. We were expecting a different kind of amazing night-- and if we had gone to see the show we would've never had that amazing night.

There's something waxy about a country singer.


When we had diaria it was called "poo poo per doo".
--Carmen

Lord, Help the Mister

I'm amazed at how fast Life likes to move. I was hanging out with Sara last night and she was telling me about how she wrote about me in these blogs back in 2006. What? I knew you back then? I seriously feel like I just started hanging out with her but I've actually been spending every Sunday+ with her for over a year. It makes me feel a little sad. Because that means the ominous 'they' were right. "Time flies." It's only a matter of seconds before I kick that bucket and meet my Maker.

In the mean time, I really do like Sara. I really like Rachel. I really like Graciela. I really like Anna. I really like Eric. I really like Kevin. And I really like how there are an abundance of people out there worth liking. I'm fairly lucky running into a good group of people who are willing to be my friends.

I'm watching White Christmas and that is a big reason as to why I love Christmas.

My whole freaking out/anxiety thing hasn't been too bad. I get small spurts of it and it all relates back to geology. I found the source of my anxiety when I put off my paper until just a few moments ago and I actually didn't feel any urge to freak out--this is a marvelous feeling. So I have finished a 10 page paper, taken a math test, taken my communications exam and taken a culture quiz and I'm still alive! I'm so excited to have exams because that means it's almost over.

Everytime I walk into my room it smells like coffee. One of the best perks at working at a coffee shop.

It was freakishly warm today and I didn't like it.

The more I go to geology the more I freak out. It's a constant reminder of how our planet is falling apart.


Just count your blessings instead of sheep.
--Carmen

That Feeling Right Before Your Brain Dies

The other night I was driving home with my dad. I had just gotten off from work and I was exhausted. It's not busy at all so I'm just cruising and I come to that crazy curve on Idlewild and right when I'm about to cross the bridge a raccoon is about to waltz in front of the vehicle (if you just pictured a dancing raccoon, you have just received 10 bonus points). I'm mentally freaking out, praying to God that the raccoon turns back and thankfully it did and I didn't run it over. I'm running through the events that had just played out and... was that raccoon wearing a red scarf? Guys, I'm not crazy but I could've sworn I saw a red scarf on that raccoon. What's even worse is that it seemed perfectly natural for it to be wearing a scarf. It didn't even dawn on me that that wasn't normal until several minutes later when I ask myself "why wasn't it wearing a matching hat?".

I've been mentally preparing myself for when I start to overload and break down from finals. Finals start on Tuesday and I still haven't received the huge "Oh my gosh I'm going to fail and become a homeless bum and I'll be so poor that I can't buy gum and it'll rain all the time and make my cardboard house deteriorate" thing. Alright, on Friday I went through the whole day of school and I'm ending my school day with geology. I'm sitting on the end of the first row (as I have done since the second week of classes) and I'm listening to my teacher gab about coke and fossil fuels (don't be surprised, this topic isn't so far fetched as most of her topics). "And this is a...? Normal fault." And then it hits me. All the freaking out that was supposed to have hit had finally struck and I'm mentally sweating. All I'm thinking is: What is she talking about? I don't know what she's talking about. I have an exam to take and I don't know what she's talking about. I'm failing this class. I'm failing all my classes. I have a paper due. I have a ten page paper due. I have a math test to fail. I have two math tests to fail. What is she talking about?! I have to pass this class and I don't know what she's talking about! [this is the part where my life flashes before my eyes] What if I don't pass this class?! Why didn't I work harder throughout the semester?! I am the bane of my existence! [this is where I crumple into a pile of sweat, tears and groans] I'm failing at life... *blubber, weep* ...why didn't I try harder...? *moan, tear* ...I hate this... *tears, blubber* and then I carry on with this and stop when all my makeup has attractively traveled from my face to the floor. Then I get anxiety-- and I mean massive anxiety-- until I get through all of my exams. All of this is happening as I listen to a lecture on natural gases getting trapped by shale. The anxiety isn't that bad right now-- but it'll set in when I start realizing that I should've done more.

It is 1:22am and I have to wake up in 7 hours. So, happy exam-anxiety to all and to all a good blubbering.

--Carmen

Pointless.

"We thought by this we should be eaten by these ugly men." -Equiano: The Interesting Narrative

If you've ever read Swift's A Modest Proposal, "baby back ribs" has a whole new meaning.

Math is the bane of my existence. I just spent an hour doing the homework and I still have to finish my math lab and I have a lab to do in class tomorrow. Numbers are the devil's minions.

I kept thinking today was Friday. It made me really sad because I was then reminded that it wasn't. One of the worst feelings is thinking you have the weekend, and then have it suddenly ripped away.

Me: You could tame the lions.
Graciella: Good, cause I'm a Leo. So I'm right there.
*Everyone needs a Graciella to sit next to. She's funny and I want to carry her with me. We both have asthma so we have a bond*

--Carmen

I don't hate you. I just don't like you.

If I haven't stated this enough, or if I haven't stated it at all: I'm just a kid. It doesn't matter my age, how tall I am; it all comes down to my secret desire to find Neverland. I might sound crazy (in fact I do sound crazy) but this is just something that needed to be said.

"Don't give me that attitude, you guys. I'm doing it all for you." -Bobby (A Goofy Movie)

Believe it or not, I don't like people very much. Some have labeled me as "angry" "vicious" or even "hostile". As you can see, I am a very complimented person. Throughout the semester I will pick out certain people in my classes and decide as to who I am going to make silent death threats against. This isn't a very difficult process; just the first person who annoys me to the point of wanting to throw them off a hot air balloon ride and strategically position an assortment of strategically placed kitchen utensils under their fall. I can usually pick this person out within the first 20 minutes or so. If I'm lucky and if there is a big class, I can find two, or even three, if it's a really good day (some classes I'm blessed with 79% who make me want to cause bodily harm to others. This semester it was geology. Lucky me.). Actually, I'm not a mean person, and my anger towards certain individuals is not unwarranted-- usually they really are idiots. How do I know this? Well, aside from my amazing skills with weeding out the weak and dumb, I convince those I sit next to to back me up. So, today, in British Lit I was split up with the Catholic-home schooler and Esque. The Catholic-home schooler I have no problem with. I was, in fact, home schooled so I feel a very strong bond with her. You may have noticed, so strong a bond that I don't know her name. However, Esque I have a deep loathing for (the name "Esque" originates from his over use of this tag line. "Dante-esque" "Roman-esque" "physiologic-esque"). He's just an idiot. I'm even semi-nice to the guy (meaning, I didn't spit in his eye. I was aggressively sarcastic, but I didn't spit in his eye). But the whole point of this entire story is that I said something clever, he laughed at it, said "nicely worded" and it gave me no joy! Stupid people who laugh at smart-funny things should not laugh at them because, chances are, they don't get it. There's a whole other level that is intended with these comments and people like Esque are lowering them. All I'm saying is, people like that should be shot.

Go to YouTube and search Flight of the Conchords. They'll make you laugh and cry in the best ways.

"Coffee (which makes politician wise, and wee through all things with half-shut eyes)" -Rape of the Lock
--Carmen