A List of Things To Do

I want to practice being an old lady now so it's easier later. Master the quilting, the baking, the cat snuggling, the gardening while I'm young, so I can spend my latter years learning to embrace my age and not mourn the loss of my youth.

I want my desk to face a wall. How can you get any work done if you sit behind the desk, jammed in tight, facing the door and everyone who passes by it. This is one of the things I find most pointless about American office design. No wonder we're so stressed.

I want to take the medications I'm supposed to take correctly. I don't want to be calling the pharmacy in panic in the afternoon because I can't stay awake and I forgot to call in the morning. I don't want to have trek to Planned Parenthoods in unfamiliar cities because I left my Nuva ring in the refrigerator at my old house.

I want to live in India. And then I want to move home.

I want to write. And read and run and quilt and grow and sing and dance and move somewhere at least once for a boy or a girl or a friend or some less than logical reason. I want to host parties that instigate marriage proposals. I want to have a bulletproof resume and a bathtub. I want to write letters and e-mails and letters of recommendation. I want to have time to turn my experiences into stories that I can tell my kids. I want to embrace my sentimental foolishness and get a roll of quarters for the laundromat.

But for today, I'll settle for publishing a silly blogpost about things that have been on my mind.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm turning 22 in 8 days and I'm sort of freaking out about it. I realized close to the end of the summer that there would be some ch-ch-ch-changes going on this year, but I didn't fully realize the consequences of making them. Being a young adult is really scary right now. I'm starting to finally feel scared. I'm not scared of the real world. I'm not scared to be poor. But I am scared to get stuck in a situation because I got lazy.

So I've been trying to get unstuck. I went back to school. I'm living with people now, and it's been great. I ended a pretty serious relationship, was on my own for a few months, then let myself get involved with someone else because it's a crazy life and it's a lot more pleasant to go through the craziness with someone else. I'm trying to work with a luthier for winter term. I don't want to let my dream of doing instrument repair fall by the wayside because I never gave myself time to try it.

But still, I'm turning 22 in 8 days. I guess I expected that I'd be further along in my life right now. I thought I'd be closer to being done with college. I thought I'd know what I wanted to be when I grew up. And I thought that if for some reason I hadn't done either of these things it would be because I had a beautiful small child to raise and support. Obviously, it's a good thing that I don't have a beautiful small child to support, but it's frustrating to me that the numbers of my age make me look like an adult, yet I'm obviously not one. I feel like I've accomplished so little in the grand scheme of things. I mean, sure I've made a ton of good stories, but I'd hope that I'd have more than just funny things to tell my future grandchildren by now.

I know I'm just facing the disillusionment everyone faces when they realize that they actually can't be an astronaut/ballerina when they grow up. But it's less of a "I can't" than a "Why the hell haven't I done this already?" So from now on I'm aiming for fewer WTH moments. I'm going to take classes because I need them to graduate, but also because I want to take them before I graduate. I'm going to ask for things because I want them, and not just because they are things I know I can easily get. Right now I'm looking back on 21 and thinking that I should have done less drinking and more planning. I know it's really silly, but I'm not ready to turn 22 because I don't feel like I've accomplished enough to warrant what seems like such an advanced age. Hopefully by the time I'm getting ready to turn 23, I'll be more mentally prepared for it.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up 9/22/11 Edition

Post master!

Psychologist - cultural and sociology research

Editor in Chief of Rural Woman Magazine (or some catchier title, b/c let's face it, that one kind of sucks)

Instrument repair woman

Event planner (Weddings and parties on the huge farm I'm gonna own with all the $$ I make from the next things on my list...)

Inventor of the Night Before Pill

Inventor of the ultimate sunscreen

High school guidance counselor

Carpenter

Moonshiner

Mom

Now the real question is, which one should I do first?

(And Mom is not the answer to that question.)

A Whole New World

A wise Oberlin alum from Eastern Kentucky recently gave me some of the best advice about college that I've ever received. The advice was (and this is paraphrased) "Spend more time with books and professors and less time with f**kers."

This summer, this is exactly what I've been doing. I participated in two workshops on computational modeling, where students were the minority, and I was learning along with Oberlin College professors. I've never felt like I was all that good at taking advantage of opportunities at Oberlin, but when I was introduced to computational modeling, I jumped right on to it, and have no plans to let go any time soon. I look at computational modeling as a new way of looking at the world, as well as a method of experimentation, a way of modeling real-life events using computers. I see a lot of potential to model things I see going on in Appalachia, environmentally, economically, and socially, and am trying to develop a fluency in modeling thought and modeling techniques so I can apply this to the work I am doing now and will do in the future. Earlier this week, I attended a retreat for professors who are teaching computational modeling as part of their courses at Oberlin. For obvious reasons, I was the only student there, despite the fact that it was a part of my job working with this computational modeling initiative, and I assumed that the other students doing this would be there. But no matter.

For the first time in my Oberlin career, I've been spending a considerable amount of time with professors. It's really interesting to be in a room with incredibly smart people with extensive knowledge in different fields while they are trying to learn the same thing. The debates that go on during these workshops have made me realize that I need to be less afraid to speak up in class, and question the things that I am being told. I need to figure out the difference between being an active participant and being a smart-ass.

It's also really cool being on first name basis with professors in departments outside of my own, and knowing about the work of people I may never take a class with. But it makes me really shy to be around people who are so much smarter than me. I mean, thank God my professors are smarter than me, but it can make small talk a little intimidating. What do I have to contribute to the lunch conversations about artificial intelligence, the half-life of elements, and living in Hanover, Connecticut? I enjoy listening and learning, but I'm not sure if I'm actually building relationships here, or if all of these people think that I'm a shy idiot. Only when the conversation turns to deep fried food or music can I make a contribution further than the occasional funny but meaningless comment. It's been interesting trying to navigate the world of academia. Fortunately, I've had plenty of experience navigating different worlds, and I suspect that I'll figure it out eventually. For now, I'm just grateful that I go to a school where professors attend 2 day workshops on the pedagogy of computational modeling, and good teaching is a high priority. I'm also glad that I've had the opportunity this summer to spend more time with professors and less time with f**kers. I'm excited to start the school year and dive back into those books. There are some more things I want to learn. Maybe I'll stop confusing artificial intelligence with extraterrestrial life in my brain. Plus, I really should revisit the rate of decay.

Life Lessons Learned At Clifftop

While talking on the phone with someone I met at Clifftop today, I realized that I have yet to process everything that happened to me there, even though it happened nearly 3 weeks ago. In order for me to fully process something, I tend to need to write about it. So without further ado, here goes.

Things I Learned At Clifftop

1. Be one with the Port-O-Potty.

Yes it is possible. Yes, it requires NOT LOOKING DOWN. If you have to use it at night DON'T BRING A FLASHLIGHT. If you do bring a flashlight, DO NOT LOOK DOWN! Point it at the ceiling and check out all of the cool bugs. If bugs disturb you more than other peoples' feces, disregard this advice. Being one with the Port-O-Potty requires determination, a bottle of scented hand sanitizer in your purse, and sometimes a little alcohol, but you will be all the happier for it. Because hiking up the hill to the sometimes-open flush toilets gets really old, and there's only so many times you can pee behind your tent in broad daylight before your neighbors stop sharing coffee with you.

2. There is no shame in going to bed early.

There is more shame in getting pressured to stay up too late, then losing your cool and threatening a 17 year old. But that's a story for another time. Just go to bed. Your friends will be there tomorrow, and they will appreciate it if you aren't Cranky McCrankerson and teary and mean.

3. Red lipstick is a powerful weapon.

Seriously more people should wear red lipstick. Use with caution and a sense of humor. When using, make sure to plant red lipstick marks on as many people as possible in as tasteful a way as possible. Make sure to bat your eyelashes and wiggle your non-existent eyebrows (because what kind of jerk wears make up at a music festival - me, duh -but this was part of a social experiment, and as many of you may or may not know, I don't have visible eyebrows unless I draw them on) in as ridiculous manner as possible. Unless you're wearing it for a job interview. Alternately, don't drink and red lipstick.

4. There are so many beautiful women in their 50s/60s/70s

Are these women beautiful because they've found the fountain of youth? No. Are they beautiful because they've had plastic surgery? No. Are they beautiful because they spend all of their time and energy fighting the natural aging process? No! They are beautiful because they have retained the beautiful spirits that they had when they were young. They are beautiful because they have accepted their faces and bodies for what they are, and aren't trying to cling desperately to their youth. They are beautiful because everyone is beautiful at Clifftop (shut up inner hippie!). They are beautiful because they won the genetic lottery, those bitches (okay kidding, but I think that this helps). I'm going to keep these things in mind as I age. And hopefully I can be a beautiful 50/60/70 something too! (Also, I suspect that red lipstick might also help).

5. Generosity is the most important thing you can bring to a music festival. And venison.

Heh, that's all the insight for now. But I'm sure that there will be more to come on trickling down the old brain stem. Until next time...

True Blood from the Small Town Perspective

Okay, so I'll be the first to admit that a TV show is a pathetic subject for a blog post. But I've just finished watching the first season of True Blood. For those of you who aren't familiar with the show, True Blood is set in a small town in Lousiana. Scientists recently developed synthetic blood so vampires no longer need human blood to stay alive, and vampires have come out in the open in society, stuff goes down, there's lots of sex, and lots of blood. As dumb as it sounds, this show is definitely one of the most addicting I've watched since I finished Twin Peaks. And while I could pretend to be smart and say that the Vampire/Human conflict is an allegory for race issues or gay rights, I'm just going to comment on the things I see as someone who lives in a small town.

True Blood from the Small Town Perspective

1. If Bon Temps was really a small Southern town, I'm pretty sure there wouldn't be so many attractive, single young people there.

2. Merlotte's probably wouldn't be making as much money as it does. People would drink a lot, but they wouldn't buy food too. Plus, conservative religious people (Hello, Church of the Sun!) would probably get really pissed off about it.

3. Merlotte's wouldn't be able to have 3-4 attractive skinny young waitresses. It might have one or two, but one of the waitresses would probably be middle aged, or obese.

4. Come to think of it, there wouldn't be that many young people there period.

5. Speaking of period... uh never mind. But seriously, do the creators of vampire stories ever take menstruation into account? Details people.

6. Jason Stackhouse. Most realistic character (come on, how many of you southern/country folks don't know 2 or 3 Jason Stackhouses?). But please please please stop giving him stupid side plot lines. A V addict? Falls in love with a crazy hippie chick from the North (Okay, this one was a little more realistic)? Church of the Sun fanatic? Please give him a little more credit than that. One of these plot lines would be acceptable. But all three of these is overkill.

That's all for now, but I'm sure Season 2 will bring more commentary. And maybe some day I'll write another blog post that isn't about TV!

Stress Mess

I've got to say that this has been one of the most stressful summers of my life. For me, stressful and summer are oxymoronic, for even when I'm on my feet for hours and hours working in a coffee shop and living at home, or working at a sort of wacky non-profit, I still manage to find time to read, run, garden, relax, craft, play music, and engage in debauchery (debauchery = things that are legal now that I am 21/friend time/staying up too late for my own good for a variety of reasons). And while I've still read a bunch of book, taken a ton of naps, and been running more times than I had in the previous 3 months, and even engaged in enough debauchery to remind me why it needs to be a once-a-week thing, and not an every-night thing, it all feels a little forced and honestly, half-assed. My garden is a wreck. I haven't played banjo since I taught myself "Sail Away Ladies." The "quilt" I'm "working" on? Joke! I guess that this is a long way of saying that I'm a little disappointed in myself, and the way I've let my summer job eat my life.

I'm working as a community organizer for the STAY Project (Stay Together Appalachian Youth!), a network of young people from Central Appalachia who want to stay in their home communities and are working to make their home communities the inclusive, sustainable, healthy places that they want to live in as adults. I worked for STAY in Kentucky when I took a semester off of school, however, there I was working as a grant-writer/master planner in an environment that was a lot more laid back. This is work that I really care about, but the concept of organizing in my home community is really scary and feels sort of forced to me. I mean, I could throw a kick-ass potluck/jam at my house, but all of a sudden, when I'm asked to throw a STAY Potluck/Jam, I freak out and forget that I'm a fabulous hostess. My job has been stressing me out so much that I have stressed myself sick, not once, but twice this summer. Swollen tonsils, feverish, no appetite, etc. When I'm not interested in eating, you know that something's really wrong, and I feel like that apart from the occasional days when I feel like I have a tape worm, I'm just not very interested in food.

I didn't want to turn this post into a woe-is-me, life is so hard post, but I feel like I come home from work, eat something, toss and turn all night thinking about it, and repeat the next day. I've tried reminding myself that it's just a job, and that it's definitely what I make it, but I feel like I'm working in an environment where that attitude is not the norm. The environment I'm working in is really inspiring, energetic, and conducive to productivity, but this type of environment tends to turn me into a stress mess.

Ugh, I hate that this post is basically me wallowing in self-pity and complaining about how stressed I am (I have a job! Free housing! Lots of amazing colleagues!), but writing this out is making me realize that I need to either blog more (because my summer has been much more than being stressed out 24/7) or drastically change my attitude towards the work I'm doing. Oh the beauty of self-discovery through writing.

Sail Away Ladies

Whenever I get my new house done

Sail away ladies sail away

I'll give the old one to my son

Sail away ladies sail away

-Sail Away Ladies (trad./Uncle Dave Macon???)

In a period of less that 24 hours, I managed to play and/or hear this song no less than 4 times. I caught the tail-end of Allegheny Echoes, a week-long old-time music workshop in Edray, West Virginia, where I truly became indoctrinated in old time music. This year, because of work and ill-timed tonsil trouble, I didn't make it to any classes, concerts, or jams until the last day of the week (and arguably the best - the instructor concert on Friday night is always a showcase of so many fine musicians from WV and a couple other states). So of course, I had to make my one night of Echoes make up for all of the time I've spent sitting on the couch reading Lonesome Dove and trying not to swallow and irritate my massive tonsils (ew ew ew, I know).

But before I get into more about Allegheny Echoes, I'd like to step back and comment on the first verse of "Sail Away Ladies." Now if the song were about something like reproductive rights or body hair, I would go into some kind of rant about how it's messed up that he's giving the house to his son instead of his daughter, or his child blah blah blah. But it's not, and this verse to me reflects one of the simplest, most beautiful sentiments: the desire to make a good life for your children. In my brief time at Echoes and the Little Levels Heritage Festival this year, this verse really hit home with me. To me it's a reflection of the generosity and family-like atmosphere (or cultish, depending if you're on the outside or inside) that forms organically around a musical community.

And that's exactly what Allegheny Echoes is like for me. After a year of being away from Echoes, coming back was like coming home. I felt like I'd been gone for ever, but at the same time, it was as if only a day and not 2 years had past since I'd seen the people there.

What followed, were two jams, one haunting, mesmerizing, beautiful, and comfortable like a homemade quilt on your favorite bed, with the members of this "family" that I am closest to, the second fiery and wild, with musicians that I feel privileged to play among. The first jam contained some of my favorite people to play music with on the planet. We know each others' styles, and have so many shared memories that an outsider would probably think we were insane if they joined in with us (they would probably be right).

The second jam happened when I caught my second wind around 2:30 am. After threatening to go to bed, and making motions in that direction before taking one final walk around the Marlinton Motor Inn, I ran into a high-energy jam containing some of the finest, wildest WV old time musicians under the age of 65. I hopped right in and kept up with this crew until around 5 am (At this point, I'd like to add that due to a combination of mono, responsibility, and my inner grandma, I haven't stayed up this late since I was a freshman in college). Never again will that same combination of musicians play together in the same way at the same time, and I'm thrilled to say that I was among them. I'm utterly failing at describing in words the very different, but very amazing feelings that were occurring at both of these jams. But I will leave you with this. Whenever I hear old time music being played with the same kind of passion and energy that I hear it being played at Allegheny Echoes, I know what I care about most in life, where I feel the happiest and most loved. And while the feeling I get from playing music is nowhere near as intense anywhere else as it is at a place like Allegheny Echoes or Clifftop, I know that the lack of a familiar old time community is the biggest sacrifice I make by living anywhere else.

Social Cache and the Mountain Girl

Remember the days when I used to blog bi-weekly? When I had deep insights about coal mining, water quality, and the education system? I guess I honestly haven't been having that many inherently "Appalachian Adventures" lately. Most of the things I want to write about are fairly universal, like computational modeling (I put that first to impress you), activism, and the difference between being a nice person and being a pushover. I spent most of the last 4 months in Ohio, in a place not even the ARC could call Appalachia. And even though it's not January any more, I don't want to change the name of my blog, because everything I am and everything I do is impacted by where I'm from. So I find myself writing an English paper at 3 am and incorporating elements of the STAY Project, and explaining to a classmate that my interest in India is actually tied in to my interest in Appalachia.

My friends and I were talking the other evening about what defines social cachet at Oberlin. Social status at Oberlin could probably be made into an equation of sorts.

Social status(x) = economic background * [where you grew up - being from the country, the South, the Midwest (not Chicago), the middle of nowhere] + college major(4humanities, 3composition/timara, 2 social sciences, 1 natural sciences, 0 conservatory) - dressing like you don't go to Oberlin + comfort around alcohol/drugs * 2how attractive you are + knowledge of art, music, literature * knowledge of certain cultural references

As you can see, I don't exactly have a ton of social cachet at Oberlin, although I do pretty well considering that I had no clue what I was getting myself into socially at Oberlin. Where I'm from is who I am, and even if I wore the right clothes, listened to all the right music, and was studying studio art and not psychology, I'd still say "mel" instead of "mail," watch The Fifth String at least once a semester, fear deer on the road, and miss the mountains. While I don't have the same social cache at Oberlin as someone, say from New York, I do have a social comfort zone that allows me to go up to the bar at Old Timbers (a bar near Oberlin that is more like a bar in Pocahontas county than a bar that close to Cleveland), make friends with the bartender, and order a pitcher of Bud Light (no, they don't have PBR silly hipsters). I knew when I bought my Hunter Boots that I would use them to muck out stalls, garden, and clamber through fields of mud, and not just go to class in the rain in them.

Maybe I got into Oberlin as the token West Virginian/middle-of-nowhere dweller, but I'd like to think that they got much more than they bargained for. And I know at home I'm the weird smart one who went to some college that no one had heard of, but I'd like to also thing that I'm going to give PC much more than they'd bargained for as well.

I guess this was just a long, unstructured way of explaining that I am a WV-ian through and through and if I'd have gone to WVU, I probably wouldn't feel this way, probably wouldn't like PBR as much, and probably wouldn't wear high waisted shorts with polka-dot tank tops and gladiator sandals, or maybe I would, but not for another year or so. And that's why I'm not going to change the name of my blog.

A Quick Rant

It's pathetic that it took me 21 years to figure out how pointless shaving your legs is. I mean, some people like it, and that's great, but I am SO. OVER. IT. This isn't about being "natural" or going to a hippie school. This is about getting sick of having my shower look like that scene from The Shining (I have been doing this for over 7 years. All of a sudden, I've started accidentally cutting myself). This is about being tired of diligently shaving daily because stubble is much much worse than hairy legs. This is about being sick of conforming to a beauty standard created by men for women. In the past few months, I've shaved very infrequently, and I can still be sexy with hairy legs. After all, French women are notorious for not shaving, and they are the sexiest women of all! Of course, I may change my tune when I'm living in a more conservative environment, but for now I am done son. Okay, rant off.

Enumeration Sensation

The last couple weeks have been eventful, to say the least. Here are some things that have happened in the last month:

My grandmother turned 80

I learned how to shape my world through computational modeling (serious, I am hooked. You can solve so many problems with Microsoft Excel)

I discovered the joys of Photoshop

I sent out a survey for real-life psychology research

I finished all 15 seasons of South Park (okay, not in one month, definitely took more like 4)

I revived my beautiful bicycle

I wrote a very passionate paragraph to WOBC about why I rule... we'll see what they think...

Became better friends with so many cool people! So many!

Saw Iron & Wine

Came up with the idea for a jug band, Iron & Wino

Made a poster-sized eye chart (for a group project, btws, I'm majoring in optometry now - ok, kidding)

Had a breakdown

It was the first major one of the whole semester (this is really really really good)

Went to my first ever roller derby

Stopped sleeping as much

Started going to the library again

Attended a labor rally

Several things that I can't blog about

Continued going to class and doing my homework!

Gold star for me. This week is rough, 2 group projects, one group presentation, a nasty battle with Survey Monkey, Excel, and SPSS, this weird pre-finals cold going around, and Folkfest. But even though I left my room at 9 am today and didn't get back until 9:30 pm, things are really, really good for the most part.

A note on the roller derby: It ruled! Picture 20 women, roller skating in an oval. Picture 2 women trying to get through a pack of their teammates and the other team on roller skates while staying in bounds, going fast, and not falling down. Now imagine that these people are your sisters, your girlfriends, and even your moms. My favorite part of the derby was seeing all of the families and friends who were there. Some of the women were my age, but the vast majority appeared to be in their early to late 30s (ok, not that old, but it's pretty impressive considering how rough the sport is). It was really inspiring. I figure I have 10 years to get really tough and learn to roller skate, then I'll be rolling around the rink in pink spandex, crazy eye make-up, with a name like Morbid, CupQuake, Sparkles, Mommy's Little Monster, or West Nel Virus.

A Bunch of "You-can'ts" Crawled Into My Ear

If you didn't read it in every single elementary school English class, you should read Shel Silverstein's poem about the What-ifs. I've never really been much of a What-if person. I am curious, and have pondered a lot of science-related what-ifs, but I don't constantly worry about what would happen if random bad things happened to me. If they happen, they happen, it's out of my control, and worrying does nothing to prevent them. Instead, I have a different set of creatures that crawl into my ear late at night. They're called the "You-can'ts." They give me reasons why I won't achieve my goals, why I'll never win a fellowship or get a job, tell me why I'm going to die alone and fat, tell me why my children will be ugly and hate me, tell me why I'll never get good grades or be happy.

I'm pretty good at stifling the "You-can'ts." I fill my mind with activities, things I know I'm good at, like writing, making friends, solving math problems, and cooking kale. But when I push myself out of my comfort zone, by taking science classes, applying for jobs, playing with other musicians at Oberlin, and the current stressing factor: consider applying for fellowships, the "You-cant's" get past my protective barrier and creep into my ear when I'm trying to do my homework or eat lunch or take a shower. Avoiding situations where I'm particularly susceptive to "You-can'ts" is no way to live my life. I don't want everything to be comfortable and easy. Every time I do something challenging, I stretch myself and grow. I want to challenge myself as much as possible while I am young and still have elasticity, if you will. And I'm not going to let the "You-can'ts" deter me from having adventures just because they make me vulnerable.

Fortunately, I have discovered a way of kicking the "You-can'ts" out of my ear so I can get on with my life and not wallow in a pool of self-doubt, which is not only unproductive, but unattractive. I call/e-mail/have lunch/wine with a friend. A 30 minute phone call to one of my oldest and dearest friends banished the "You-can'ts" I attracted at a presentation about the Watson fellowship, where I saw a lot of really smart, really determined, interesting, and personable Oberlin students, and felt like the dumbest, laziest, most boring one of the bunch. I know I know I know, comparing yourself to others is bad because we're all individuals and everyone is special and I have bigger arm muscles and thus could take them in a fight and blah blah blah, but when the "You-can'ts" start to hover, I forget all of these things. And this phone call brought me back to reality, got those pesky critters out of my ear, and replaced them with the "You-cans." You can be a good friend! You can have good relationships! You can have interesting ideas! You can write persuasively! You can work hard and intelligently! You can take the other applicants in a fist fight!

I'm just going to go ahead and be really cheesy and say that the "You-cans" are made of love and kind of look like my cat Sadie. When I am reminded of my love my friends, I love who I am, because if I can have that kind of relationship, then I must be pretty capable after all.

I'll never completely defeat the "You-can'ts" but I'll sure as hell give them a run for their money. I am so thankful for the healing powers of friendship.

God is Great, Coffee's Good, and People are Crazy.

It's my 2nd week back from a spring break filled with travel, snow, family, friends, and cats in two different states, and already I feel like I'm ready for another one. One cruel trick of Oberlin (and other schools, I guess), is that you schedule for the following semester about 2/3 of the way into the current semester. By this time, you're getting a little tired of your current classes, but still have what feels like an eternity left in them. And this is usually the point in the semester when I burn out, and decide that it's more important for me to clean my apartment or go on a 2 hour grocery shopping adventure than do the next day's homework. At the same time, I have a lot of academic energy from planning the next semester. So that's where I am now.

This phenomena didn't make it easier to study for my cognitive psychology exam today. I stayed up the latest I've ever stayed up studying for an exam (2 am, come on, a girl's gotta get some sleep). And boy am I glad I did. While I felt like I was just staring at my notes over and over again, when I got to the test this morning, I felt like I knew about 85% of the material, which is really really good for me on a psych test (the one exception was the test when I complained to my friend about people who get 97s and ruin the grading curve after finding out that the curve was only 3 points, only to later pick up my exam and discover that I was the one with the 97). And while I'm pretty sure that this won't match my legendary curve ruining exam results (I mean, I talked about "homework wine" in one of the answers. My professor is either going to love it or refer me to the counseling center), I stepped out of the test feeling okay about my work.

But I didn't start blogging to tell you about my exam. I want to write about over caffienation and important academic decisions.

I guess my coffee habit started freshman year. I was indifferent to the stuff, but after finals week, I learned to use the substance sparingly in order to maximize productivity. My habit really kicked into gear when I got a summer job at a dispensary, I mean, coffee shop. By the end of sophomore year, I was up to 2-3 high test cups a day. I've cut down a bit in my old age, but during the peak of my coffee consumption, I accidentally declared my major while strung out on a particularly strong to-go cup of Black River brew. Declaring my major wasn't an accident, but I'm pretty sure the enthusiastic conversation I had with my department chair about psychology and West Virginia and Oberlin was a result of caffeine, since I haven't shown that much enthusiasm for psychology since.

So over a year later, on the day before my infamous homework-wine cognitive psych exam answer, when I was rushing around like a maniac trying to go to class and take care of business and study and oh did I mention meet with a professor in the sociology department about an honor's project (I don't want to talk about this now because I'm scared I will jinx it and there's a lot of background work involved, but I am so excited), I accidentally/on purpose consumed two travel mugs of CDS and Oberlin Market coffee.

Two travel mugs is not that much coffee, but part of my current coffee habit involves cutting my daily morning French press with decafe coffee so I don't turn into a crazy lady. And with no time that morning for my trusty French press, I had to resort to stress drinking other people's coffee.

I could go on all day about the best coffee in Oberlin and how too much bad coffee made me tear up because someone said "kittens dying" and write long ranting e-mails and shake and misinterpret almost every social interaction (wait, was he hitting on me? Am I supposed to walk away now? Does that girl want to start a fight?). But to make a long story short, I met with the professor, she really liked my idea, she offered to help me pull academic strings, and I figured out what I need to do before I can start this project.

I'm searching for a good way to tie in homework wine, spring break, academia, scheduling and over-caffeination so I can finish tonight's homework and get more than 4 hours of sleep tonight. I would say something about coffee being an academic lubricant for me, but I'm pretty sure that's not actually true, as it makes me kind of tense and crazy when used in excessive amounts. I'm not sure there's a moral to this story except for perhaps, study hard, get enough sleep, and make your own coffee you lazy girl. And academic enthusiasm is a good thing!

Facebook Stalking's Bad, Um-kay?

After what felt like a long hiatus from Facebook, I reactivated my account. While I don't use it much for people I go to school with, it is a good way to keep in touch with my friends who are far away (and if you're my friend, at some point or another you will be far from me. And I will stalk your facebook profile). I haven't really gone facebook crazy again. It's frankly, pretty boring compared to reading blogs, the news, online shopping, and catching up on tv shows. Facebook stalking tends to leave me feeling depressed and unsatisfied (unlike other methods of stalking jk jk lolz). It only took 4 or so years of having a Facebook profile to figure out why.

When I facebook stalk friends who are:

A) Studying abroad

B) Getting cool internships

C) Have boyfriends at school

D) Getting married

E) Have adorable children

F) Really really photogenic

G) Really good artists/photographers/musicians/writers/have other talents that are visible on their facebook profile

I am reminded of all of the things that I want, but don't have right now. Some of these things I will never have (see: being really really photogenic). I'm human, I get jealous. And I hate that I get jealous of other people. I don't tend to think of the things that I want that I already have, like:

A) A really really cute cat.

B) Awesome friends in lots of different places

C) A sweet apartment

D) A lot of really really good stories

E). And I'm not even counting the things like good health, a college education, a supportive family etc.

So shame on you, Facebook, for making me feel bad! But it's equally my fault, for letting my human emotions get me down. So I'm going to do my part. I'm back on Facebook. Friend-who-is-dating-that-really-attractive-dude, friend-who-is-having-escapades-in-Europe, friend-who-has-kick-ass-job, and friend-with-excellent-profile-pictures, I am sincerely happy for you, and excited for you to have these amazing things in your life. But I'm not gonna be stalking your profiles as much until I find the love of my life. Or I'd even settle for an internship.

IMPORTANT: GOOGLE HATES ME

Well it is a sad day for Janney's January Appalachian adventures. Google has decided that it hates my guts because I accidentally created 2 Google accounts because my Oberlin e-mail is confusing, and technology is dumb. So I may have to kill this blog (saving the writing on my hard drive, of course) and starting a new one, hopefully outside of Google control. I like Gmail, but it wants my phone number so it can text me (I don't have cell service dummy) and I don't want to give it to Google. Is anything sacred any more? What will it want next, my height and weight? My social security number? The location of the window in my bedroom?

So maybe I'm a paranoid old lady, but I don't like this. Big brother is not allowed to watch me. But I still want to blog because it's fun. Google can know what kind of beer I like, where i go to school, where I live, and the name of my cat, but it cannot know my cell phone number!

A new blog will be up soon, although I'm afraid that this Google idiocy also means the end of the now-defunct Janney Lockman Living and Cats Do the Darndest Things.

Grrrrrr..........

There's A Tear in My Beer

And so another week has come and gone, this time, without infestations or sickness. Thank goodness! I made the decision to quit something, I turned in an internship application (three weeks late, so much for professionalism), I spoke up in a class I don't like to talk in, I cried, and I felt affirmation.

Since starting college, the 2 weeks before spring break have always been a time of questioning, quitting, and unexpected happiness. My freshman year, I quit 2 of the extra curricular activities that were making me miserable, got a boyfriend, and went on a really long run. Last year, I decided to take better care of my mental health, went to a really fun party where I made some decisions about how I wanted to deal with romantic relationships for the rest of my time in college, and cried a lot.

This is always a crazy time for me, partly because it forces me to think about the near future, something I've never liked doing. It's always much easier for me to decide what I want to do for grad school, which fellowships I want to apply to next year, and what I want to name my future children than what I want to do for the summer, where I want to live next year, and what I want to eat for dinner.

It's also the time when people figure out housing, and since I don't have what I like to call a "roommate soulmate", that is, a person who I get along well with as a roommate that I can live with semester after semester without trouble, this time is always stressful for me. I have so many good friends, but at the end of the day, I'm the odd one out when it comes to living together. I think I do this to myself by having so many different friend groups but not having a single best friend (I don't want to pick! They're all the best! That's why they're my friends!), but it still hurts when it's 2 days before the housing deadline and the people I thought I might live with if I decided to not be anti-social have actually been talking to other roommates. And ultimately, I'm always okay with living by myself or living with a random roommate, but it would be nice to have some stability. I've had several excellent roommates in my time, but none that it would logistically work with to live in a dorm at Oberlin with for multiple semesters (i.e. roommate in Kentucky, roommate who goes to a different college, roommate who has off-campus status). It's always frustrating and anxiety inducing, and I absolutely hate it.

Last night, I had a good talk with an old friend. She helped me remember that I'm fine (and probably happier) living by myself, and that it doesn't mean that I'm a bad friend or a bad roommate if I don't have a roommate soulmate. She inspired me to continue to take control of my education, and not let it control me, and to not get stuck in situations that make me unhappy. And over cheap beer and good talk, I remembered why I am here, and why I live alone, and why it's okay to cry this time of year, because it's stressful (midterms! duh!), and the near future honestly scares me more than the far future.

So I'm sitting here in a booth in the student union, typing this, crying. But these aren't sad tears, they're the happy tears of self-affirmation.

Something Weevil This Way Comes

Last night, I decided to prepare a very delicious looking pasta dish that was like pasta carbonara, only with brussel sprouts instead of bacon and will less fat and more veggies. And I was using my favorite pasta shape, those curly tubes that I can never remember the name of. About halfway through the pasta cooking time, I noticed that these little black things had floated to the surface of the water. This had never happened to me before, so I fished them out of the water, put them in my hands, and discovered that they were weevils. Ew ew ew ew ew. More deterred by the thought of an infestation than by the thought of eating bugs (I'd been on the go all day and was really hungry!), I googled "Can you eat pasta with weevils in it?" The general consensus on the internet was "Yes, you'll probably get extra protein, but who'd want to eat food that had bugs in it, weirdo? What kind of disgusting freak are you?"

"But what if you've already cooked it? What if you don't have time to make anything else or enough money to go out to eat? What if you're tired?" I wanted to say back to these internet naysayers. But disgusted by the thought of infestation, I proceeded to clean out my entire kitchen and throw away any food that could possibly have weevils in it (beans, flour, raisins, 2 boxes of pasta, lentils, pecans, etc). It was a bummer and I was hungry. I couldn't help wondering what I'd done wrong? I keep my kitchen relatively clean, clean my stovetop at least twice a week, and throw away any food that's gone bad. I'm pretty sure the weevils were in some of the food when I bought it, but I'm not sure what and it's creeping me out. But I guess the moral of this story is that weevils, like head lice, can happen to anyone. I'm not sure what lesson I've learned from this, besides having my trust in the US food system completely shaken. Seriously, how to I know that what I'm buying won't contain little bugs? Is it safer to buy organic, or will that just mean it's more likely to contain bugs? Is it better to buy things in smaller packaging, or does it all come from the same weevil-infested pasta company?

I have no idea. If this had happened to me in Kentucky, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash. I had so many domestic things to deal with, like leaky sinks, stapling plastic to windows, making sure the pipes didn't freeze and making sure Sadie was healthy, that I wouldn't have batted an eyelash at an infestation. In fact, I did have one, when I first got Sadie and she had fleas all over her face. I would scratch her head and see bugs crawling around her eyes. It's terrible when you have a baby animal that is covered in bugs. But we dealt with the fleas and Sadie forgave me when I tried to give her a bath and blow dry her in order to get rid of them.

And I dealt with the weevils and I'm pretty sure they're gone now. I'm going to enact a personal "Look before you cook" policy. And I'm never going to ask the internet for advice about bug consumption ever again.

The Women's Blog and Why I'm Pretty Sure I Could Create One

After I came to terms with the fact that Facebook was causing me more misery than good and inducing me to do thinks like post pictures of my friends in their underwear (it's from a school dance party, alright?), stalk ex's new girlfriends (why is she skinnier and more artistically talented than me?), post controversial opinions online and then get upset when people criticize them (yes, I know that's a stupid idea for a tattoo. no, I still don't think you're taking the issue of mountain top removal seriously enough), and realize how many of the boys I had unrequited crushes on in middle and high school are MARRIED now (at least 2 that I know of), I deactivated my Facebook.

So it's still out there somewhere online, waiting for me to log-in and reactivate it and make sure I don't get a job because I forgot to untag the photo where I'm pretending to pick my nose. In the mean time, I am recovering quite nicely from this addiction (this is week 2). However, one cannot do as much homework as I do without some kind of reprieve or distraction. This distraction for me has been The Hairpin, thehairpin.com, a blog for women who are sort of in my life stage and who are feminists but wear make up and appreciate pop culture while being skeptical of it and like men or women but realize that people can be jerks much of the time. In short, I spend lots of time reading articles in the Hairpin, and will probably submit something to them as soon as I write something witty enough.

But then I realized that instead of trying to join the current women's magazine-style blogs, I should just make my own. I mean, come on, think of all of the blogs I've created, Janney's January Appalachian Adventures, where I talk about everything from water quality to happy hour, the now ignored Janney Lockman Living where I share my tips for being a young, feminist, modern, unmarried housewife, and the also underused Cats Do the Darnedest Things, where I share cat anecdotes (or would share them, if I weren't too lazy to update it).

Anyway, combine all these blogs together, add some advice about relationships and articles about movie stars, make up, and Barbie dolls, and you've got the Hairpin!

So I'm going to start a new blog that is a women's magazine for fashionable, smart, young feminist women who live in rural places in the US. This isn't happening now. But it will happen in the near future, so mark my words. In the mean time, stay tuned to this blog, and if you decide to deactivate your Facebook and get bored, I suggest The Hairpin

http://thehairpin.com/

Friday Stream of Consciousness

So it's Friday, there's a foot of snow on the ground, and I'm going to the Feve for happy hour. Then I'm going to go home and write a paper and go to bed. Because everyone knows that cheap cocktails are conducive to paper writing. I know this because my friend Cynthia told me.

I like Cynthia a lot. We both have best friends who are abroad, both are learning how to write grants, both have frustrations with Oberlin boys. She comes over to my apartment and we sit on my couch and do homework and talk about how stupid boys are and do homework and talk about how much the people in our classes who seem to be majoring in acting pretentious suck and do homework. She is frustrated that there are no good boys here, and I am frustrated because there are plenty of good boys here but no good men. And she makes me laugh and I make her laugh and at moments like those I think, "I should be a stand-up comedian."

Because sometimes I feel like everything I say is part of a comedy show and I get to where I'm going laugh-a-minute. It's a defense mechanism I've developed to mask academic incompetence. No one wants to be in a group with the girl who loathes SPSS and doesn't remember anything from statistics, but everyone wants to be in the group with the girl who cooks big pots of soup for the group and finds humor in stressful situations and is really really good at answering e-mails. The other day in my adolescent psych lab I was giving a presentation, and seriously considered starting with "I just flew in from Firelands, and boy are my arms tired!" What?!? I didn't probably because I'd just been in the Student Union and not in Firelands and because it wasn't a presentation about bad jokes it was about national surveys and why didn't I make a powerpoint so people could focus on that instead of the fact that I was wearing the same clothes I went to the gym in earlier in the day.

But it all turned out well and I think I made people laugh for the right reasons and I remembered that there isn't much market for a straight, shy, female comedian. At this point, I guess I'm counting on charisma and networking to get me a job. But lord, ain't it hard.

And after my meeting with my grant-writing teacher today, who indicated that she thought I was fairly competent today, I went home to my apartment and did some homework but first ordered makeup online, because everyone knows that owning slate grey nail polish and eyeshadow called "Swimming Pool" will get you far in life.

And I'm going to the Feve for Happy Hour with Cynthia and I'm gonna write a paper and it's Friday afternoon.

Strength-training and the Entrepreneurial Spirit

After a crazy busy week, I got a much better idea of what my work load will be like this semester. Heavy. But I have to do things like observe middle schoolers and high schoolers in their natural environment (the Oberlin streets!), read Modernist literature, research positive risk-taking, and write an elevator speech. So at least my homework is either fun, or feels useful.

In realms outside the academic classroom, my women's strength-training class has been absolutely amazing! I loathe exercising in gyms unless they have TVs, which the gym at Oberlin doesn't. What can I say, running or biking in place is just plain boring. I like to go on running adventures or do pilates in my room, so I can huff and puff in the privacy of my own home, or at least be taking in some pretty scenery. But I love the weight room. There's something about feeling your muscles engaging, noticing how you can use your breathing to help you lift, and the weakness and soreness afterwards that I find really appealing, and believe it or not, relaxing. It's a workout where speed doesn't help you at all, and you can really take the time to feel how your body works. Not to mention the fact that I am slowly getting ripped, and I imagine that it will be much easier to move out of my apartment than it was to move in. I love being a strong woman mentally and emotionally, and now I'm looking forward to being one physically.

After speaking with an amazing professor at Oberlin college who won the Watson and Fulbright fellowships, has received grant money up the wazoo, and has been on the board of many fellowship committees in my grant-writing class on Friday, I am feeling so inspired to figure out how to get money to do something I've wanted to do for a couple of years: go to India. There are so many fellowships out there and it would be foolish for me not to apply for at least one of them before I get tied down with doing whatever it is I'll be doing, work, research, grad school, starting a business. I've been feeling the entrepreneurial spirit lately, and since I go to a school that has a program that can give you start-up money, I feel like I should take advantage of it. The real question is: what exactly do I want to do? This summer will be filled with lots of plotting and planning and writing out all my crazy business schemes like inventing the ultimate sunscreen, creating the Night Before Pill, opening a used bookstore, an instrument repair shop, a Subaru moving service, a school of knitting, etc. and see which ones are actually feasible (i.e. the Night Before Pill is not). It's all very exciting and hard to think about when I'm busy with school all the time.

Somehow through all the scheming and dreaming and reading and writing I've managed to have a social life. I've cooked some really excellent food for folks, had some fun lunch dates with good friends, friend homework nights, and even *gasp* gone out dancing on a Wednesday night (after all of my homework was done, of course). Anyway, long story short, it's been fun, and I've still been getting all of my work done and showing up for class on time. I met with 4 professors on Friday, kind of a dumb idea in retrospect, because my poor little brain was overwhelmed, but it made me feel much better about my classes. I think the general verdict of this semester thus far, has been, I am smarter than I think I am. After 4 semesters of self-doubt and feeling like an ignoramus, I'm finally starting to get it and starting to remember that I'm smart. And it feels so good. So I'm going to do the smart thing, and finish Part 2 of The Good Soldier, then see what I can find about National Survey research on adolescents. Have a great weekend!

Oh-Berlin-Oh!

After waking up extremely happy this morning for no particular reason, I decided that it was high time for a real blog post. You know, the ones that take an hour to write, filled with funny anecdotes, wry remarks, controversial opinions, and witty commentary on my life.

I've been feeling pretty blessed lately. I usually don't like it when people say they've been blessed, because usually it's followed by something about Jesus and how I could feel blessed too if I let him into my life. While I think it's awesome that this person feels this way, I have enough problems of my own without being made to feel like all of my unhappiness is due to the fact that I haven't gone to church in months. So for me to say that I feel blessed is a rare occurrence. But I do feel blessed right now and it has nothing to do with me accepting Jesus into my life.

I feel blessed because the first week of this semester has been the best first week of school ever. This is the first first week where I haven't felt hopelessly behind and stupid from day one. I feel like there's nothing work-wise in this semester that I can't handle, and actually mean it. And it's not like I'm taking a particularly light load either (although this is the first semester where I'm not taking a math or stats class, which makes a big difference).
Plus, the Resed gods bestowed upon me an amazing single apartment. It's bright, well-insulated, clean, has a great view, and everything I need. This is the first place that I have lived that feels like it is truly mine and decorated and arranged in a way that reflects my personality (eww gross, shut up inner Martha Stewart!). So coming home after class to a clean, warm apartment does wonders for my mood.
Not to mention the fact that it's really good when I keep running into people who are really glad to see me and have reconnected with a lot of good friends. When I'm away from Oberlin, all I can think about are the people there who annoy me, but now that I'm back I realize that these people are only a small fraction of who I interact with day to day.
Finally, I've started exercising again, partially due to my women's strength training class, and partially due to my beautiful, talented, and wise fellow sexy redhead friend Gabi, who started working out over last semester and has inspired me with her tales of leg muscle and 4 mile runs. And boy do I feel amazing. Sore much of the time, but amazing.

Of course, there are some things that are getting me down, like the fact that I ate lunch alone in the dining hall yesterday, and that several of my classes have very vocal people in them who already know everything there is to know about the subject and want to make sure the whole class knows it too. (Seriously though, if you've already read the books we're reading in class, why take that course? If you've already written a bazillion funded grants and are an expert on the subject, why take grant-writing?). Fortunately, the silly Oberlin social scene that has seriously bummed me out in the past just seems stupid to me now. I feel like I've done pretty well for myself at Oberlin for a girl from Pocahontas County High School, and that's good enough for me. There's no need to social climb or feel lame because I like South Park, soup beans, and bad pop music and not something cooler.

And it's the weekend and I have no plans, but I'm just going to follow my feet and find something fun to do with people who make me feel happy and hopefully end up in bed at a decent hour so I can wake up and do some research on information processing in adolescence. I'm blessed that I have this opportunity to go to this academically amazing school, have some pretty awesome friends, a place to call home in Oberlin, and folks that I care about who are only a Skype call away. Here's to education! Happy Friday!

Nothing to Report Here

I am becoming a total and complete nerd again. And it's feeling pretty good.

First of all, my classes thus far are excellent. But the best part is they have interesting homework. I spent about an hour yesterday in the library researching Modernism for my English class. I sat on the floor of Mudd (Oberlin's library) and read. And I didn't even think about falling asleep. It took me a lot longer to read my cognitive psychology chapter. But read it I did, and let me tell you, cognitive psychology is fascinating. It feels a little uncomfortable to think about the way the brain, something that everyone has inside their heads at all times, works. But once you get over that, it's pretty durn cool.

Aside from doing my homework diligently, I have started working out again, taking care of my apartment, and catching up with folks I haven't seen in a while. Most of these people seem pretty glad to see me, which always surprises me a little bit. This time, I'm glad to see them too. As long as I can stay on target school-wise, and avoid becoming a complete hermit, I feel like this semester will be a good one.

Janney's February Transition Adventures

When I'm sitting here in the red chair by the wood stove at my home in Green Bank, it's hard to imagine that over a year ago I started this blog and began a string of crazy adventures that lead me here today. From an objective perspective, these adventures don't seem that weird. I mean, okay, so I've lived in three different states (one three separate times), been to two weddings, one baby shower, two music festivals, and Hawaii, in the past 13 months, but it doesn't feel like it's been that crazy (although I'm sure my family members would beg to differ - I'm sorry Lockman-Brown-Woodwards - this summer's for you). And while I could go on a rant about how much the past year has been filled with emotional-mental-social-spiritual-physical growth, that would be boring. Because that's sort of already what this blog is about. And it just so happens that most of my understanding of this growth comes when I'm in the mountains.

This weird break between Winter Term and Spring Semester has always been like a pause button between transitions. I come home, I sleep a lot, I eat a lot of chocolate, I take long walks in the cold, play guitar, and get rid of things.

And then I always go back to school, with a head full of things that I'm going or not going to do. And then I go back and do what I was going to do anyway. And somehow I come out at the end of the spring semester, stronger than ever before. I'm not predicting gloom and doom, a lot of really amazing and beautiful things have happened to me in the last couple springs. But it's not always easy.

I've started a record collection and am in the market for a record player. I have a fantasy of myself coming home after class, putting on a record and preparing dinner. We'll see how long the cooking lasts, but I'm excited to enter the world of people who listen to records. Most of my records have been given to me by friends or obtained through strange circumstances. The rest are from my parents' abandoned collection. My record player is my present to myself for going back to school. It's pretty silly that I should have to give myself a present for doing something that I am incredibly privileged to be able to do, but it's what I'm doing, it's how I'm feeling, and it's what's right for me at this point in my life.

I'll leave you all with two tidbits of wisdom.

1. From Meatloaf: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NTDHjVKQyo

I'm trying to figure out what lessons can be learned from Meatloaf. I mean, it's pretty weird to be learning lessons from a formerly obese Republican musician. I think the main lesson is that you don't have to be skinny or beautiful to sing epically sexy songs.

2. From Leopold "Butters" Stotch, my favorite South Park character (in an episode where he falls in love with a waitress at "Raisins" only to find that she doesn't really want to be his girlfriend and is just trying to get tips by flirting with him):

"Well yeah, and I'm sad, but at the same time I'm really happy that something could make me feel that sad. It's like, it makes me feel alive, you know? It makes me feel human. And the only way I could feel this sad now is if I felt somethin' really good before."

Between Meatloaf and Buttters, I've been easing my way through this transition. I can't wait for the adventures that come next! Stay tuned for Janney's January (only not in January) Appalachian (only not in Appalachia) Adventures!

New Semester's Revolutions

New Year's resolutions don't work for me. I made a resolution this year to floss my teeth more often. I'm not sure where my dental floss is right now. Last year I resolved to figure out what I was doing with my degree. Now I'm even more confused than ever. This has gone on fairly consistently since I started making new year's resolutions.

In my humble opinion, resolving to do something all year on January 1st is setting yourself up for failure. It's hard to start a diet when there's all that old Christmas fudge and fruitcake kicking around your house. It's hard to start an exercise regime when you come home from work and it's dark, cold and snowy, you get sick, and your body just wants to hibernate (someday I am going to prove the Theory of Human Hibernation. It's going to rock the science world). It's hard to keep a diary when you're supposed to be writing thank-you notes. It's hard to make a change in yourself when nothing else is changing around you.

Which is why I like to make resolutions before making a transition in life, instead of making resolutions before a transition in the calendar year. At some point, I'm sure that there will be fewer transitions in my life and I'll turn to new years and new seasons to make resolutions, but for now I'm going to do what works for me when it works for me.

The transition in my life right now is going back to school after a semester of working and living in the "real world." Here are my resolutions (in no particular order).

1. Treat school like I'm getting paid to do it. Even though I'm not. Even though my degree will probably only make me overqualified to flip burgers, and under-qualified for anything else. Just suck it up and work it out!

2. Don't leave the house without makeup. This may seem like a shallow resolution, but hear me out. Since it takes me less than 5 minutes to do my make-up, the days when I go without it are usually days when I don't give a darn. While these days aren't always terrible days, the attention I pay to my physical appearance is a pretty good indicator of my mental health. When I take those few minutes to put on makeup before I head out, I am more likely to take a few minutes to enjoy the day later on.

3. Don't kiss boys with girlfriends. Even if you don't know that they have girlfriends. Because you always do know. And it's just bad news for everyone involved.

4. Don't let the social situation surrounding an activity lessen your enjoyment of that activity. An example: If you like doing radio at school, and the cool radio kids at school make you feel uncool, just keep doing your radio show and enjoying the hour at the crack of dawn on a weekend in the on-air room. Show all the cool radio kids by being highly successful at all radio-related activities. (Were they on Inside Appalachia? Were their news stories broadcast on NPR?).

5. Keep track of your bank account, Janney! Just do it.

Okay, that's enough resolutions. Of course, as always, I'll strive to eat well, exercise more, and be a happier person. And because it is no longer January 1st, I feel like I have a bigger chance of success at all of these.

P.S. Happy birthday Mom!

Goin' Down to South Park: Quiet Contemplation and Human Hibernation

It has been far too long friends. Mostly because I was in sunny Hawaii wearing shorts and sun dresses looking at fish and sea turtles and volcanos and stuff. So I didn't blog because a) Hawaii isn't Appalachia, and b) I didn't want to rub it in too much.

Now that I'm back in Kentucky, I feel like I will never be warm again. My house is cold. My office is cold. Outside is cold. It is officially winter, and my body is trying to do what it always tries to do this time of year: hibernate. The hibernation plan for this year so far seems to be to watch copious amounts of South Park and play Spyro the Dragon. I've been reading too, coming up with ideas for a tv show (it's like the Office, only about a non-profit), and singing a lot of karaoke.

I'm also super pumped to go back to school. While I appreciate the way the snow looks on the Whitesburg streets as I walk to hang out with my friends at night, I can recall how slick the Mudd ramp gets, taking out co-op trash in the snow, and those mornings when I can sneak in a cross-country ski journey before class. And while it's great to spend my evenings discussing reproductive health on a WMMT talk show, learning about StoryCorps, selecting karaoke numbers, teaching Sadie to use her scratching post, and watching the adventures of Cartman and Butters, I think I'm ready to do homework instead. Oberlin, as soon as you give me my housing assignment, I will be ready.

Well it's been a long day of web design. I know I have things to say, but my brain would rather hibernate and dream than blog. I'm going to revive it before school starts, but after 5 pm the only decisions I want to make are what to have for dinner, and whether or not to go out. So I'm going to appreciate the quiet contemplation that happens in winter, my opportunity for a mental break, the evenings spent cuddling as Stan, Kile, Cartman, and Kenny adventure in South Park, and waking up frozen. And hopefully Sadie will start scratching her scratching post instead of the couch.