Welcome to the Jungle

First of all I’d like to begin this post with an apology. I have failed you as a blogess. I reserve my right to blame winter for all forms of failure that have taken place since December. Luckily, March has arrived, and although it has quite certainly come in like a lion, I still have faith that it will go out like a lamb. March is a great time not only because of the positive weather change, but also because midterms are over, and St. Patricks Day is this Sunday. Obviously, St. Patricks Day is a big freaking deal to me. I happen to attend the university rated the fourth best place to be IN THE WORLD by David Letterman, and is rated the Number 1 best College St. Patrick’s Day Parties in the nation. That university is none other than THE University of Dayton. UD students have been practicing all year for this day. All the throwing up in bushes, all the beer pong games, flip cup extravaganzas, all the beer chugging and shot taking has led up to this point. One day, over twelve hours of intoxication, more beer than you have ever seen in your life, and it’s all ours, because honestly, who could handle St. Patties Day better than 10,000 Catholic young adults.

All winter I’ve kept my eyes on the prize, dreaming of the day where my dreary campus transforms into a glowing sea of green, over the course of one night. Every student will wake long before the sun rises and begin our drinking marathon, and it will be glorious.

Winter was Created to Weed Out the Weak Willed (Alliteration, Ya’ll)

Every year I find myself in a rut. This rut always seems to take place between the end of Christmas and the beginning of Spring. It is a terrible feeling. I miss the sun. I miss the warmth. I miss the sweet, sweet freedom of wearing a skirt. Part of me just dies. Consequently, all my motivation to do anything freezes like the world around me. I realize at the last minute that I forgot to do some huge assignment because I was too busy being sad to realize I had to do it. This just makes it worse. I want to do well in school, I want to remember everything I have to do, it’s just too much. My usual response is just to keep my eyes on the prize. I always think to myself, if people could survive the ice age, I can survive three months of this misery. Somewhere in my DNA there is a caveman screaming, “You call this Winter?! Bring it, bitch.”  Even though I’m sad, pale, and perpetually cold, I’ll keep telling myself spring is coming and I’m going to be alright. We all are, because cavemen survived the ice age.

My iPad and My Feels Forbade me to Love You

I know it has been only two weeks since I last wrote , but it feels like four hundred million years. For no reason I’ve just become a huge lump of negative feelings, and those negative feelings prevented writing of any kind. The feelings took my creative spirit out back and kicked the living shit out of it. As my crippled creativity nursed its wounds, I was forced to face my dark cloud of negativity alone. Those who know me, are aware that I do not handle large quantities of emotion responsibly. At some point in a fit of self loathing I decided I didn’t deserve to be happy or write again, because I was a friendless, neurotic who calls herself names. Instead of attempting to combat my solemn mood by staying active and involved in a variety of distracting and enjoyable activities, I opted to stay in and wallow in the company of my iPad. Addiction ensued. At some point I came to the realization that I had been playing Plants vs. Zombies for 4 hours straight. I was in a rut, and to be honest, I’m not completely out of the woods yet. I’ve been like this a hundred times in my life, where I’ve subconsciously convinced myself that I don’t deserve to be happy, or have friends, or have fun   of any kind. I can convince myself that it isn’t true, but it is not easily accomplished. So until further notice I am incapable of entertaining you with my antics. I apologize.

 

Its like a Pinky Promise on Steroids

Being a best friend is a privilege. A best friend has many duties to fulfill. A best friend in my mind should do the following:

1. Help one get …

This means that no matter what time in the day it is even if it is 2:30am she/ he will drive you to do your thing if you do not have a car at the time. Recently my best friend did this for me. She even slept on a couch for me (if you get my drift).

2. Run, Dance, and Scream

When one of us is sad or in a weird mood it is a necessity to run through a field, dance by a river, or scream in random places. Don’t worry this usually happens at night so most are not subjected to our random bursts of idiocy. This can only be done properly if it is your best friend and they are equally as thrilled by screaming into the night.

3. Books, Books, and more Books

My best friend must love to read so we can share books. We also think a fun night out entails the bookstore. Sitting at a bookstore browsing, admiring, and scouting out books we need to read. This of course can take hours but who cares, books are fun.

4. Believe in Ghosts, fairies, unicorns, etc.

There is a scary old farmhouse not far from where we live. There are never any cars or sign of people living in this spooky place. Now you may think I am being ridiculous because no house can be that scary. You are wrong. The windows are boarded, the bricks/paint is peeling, and it looks abandoned. All of these features would be okay if a light, yes that’s right I said light, turned on and off all of the time.

Sometimes we drive by and it’s off and then sometimes it’s on! It is obviously a ghost that is doing this because no human would ever willingly live in this house with any way to leave; it is too scary to not have a car.

5. Revenge

Best friends help you plot revenge on the egotistical pretty boy. When the boy you have been dating leaves you with the cops or screws you over, a best friend will help you plot revenge. This revenge can come in many forms such as sleeping with his best friend, just to say you have, or crashing his birthday party. Crashing his party my sound a little childish, but what is better then making someone upset just by being there. We also plan to steal all of his birthday presents.

6. I call Dibs

When dibs are called it is a serious matter. One does not mess with the sacred bond of dibs. We call dibs on everything from sitting in the front seat to what boys we want. Dibs are respected completely and are to never be tampered with. They are like a pinky promise on steroids. Respecting dibs is the foundation of any good best friend relation ship, because without them our world would be chaos. Rules that come along with calling dibs are the following: 1. You have to have a solid reason for wanting the dibs. 2. No fighting over the object or person after dibs has been called. 3. No sharing of dibs (this relates more with people then with objects). 4. You can un-dibs something if you feel it is necessary (although this never happens). By following these simple rules our best friend relationship never falters and we continue through life as if we are the center of it.

This is how one becomes my best friend, but sorry everyone that spot in my life has been filled.

The Universe Hates Me/ They Are GODS!!

So as everyone knows it is the time or year where seniors are deciding where to go to school. They are trying to figure out who they want to be and what they want to do with their lives. This can be a very stressful time in a kids life, but this year I made a game out of it. My brother graduates this year and was stuck between two schools; one was close to home and the other was about two hours away. This is not a bad distance at all but he is a home buddy. My mom and I made a bet on which school he would choose. I had my dibs on the further away one.

You may be thinking ohh a bet with your mom… what did you bet five dollars. No we are way more classy then that. We are not a family that usually gambles so when we do it is a go big or go home situation. Concert tickets were on the line here if mom won I had to buy her Kenny Chesney tickets and if I won I was to get One Direction Tickets. Now before you go out of your way to tell me they are for children and that they suck. Just stop. They are just GODS. Nothing anyone says will change my mind about this. They are the one thing I want in life (at the moment), I am a Directioner and proud of it. I was pretty confident in my choice and it took my brother months to finally decide, but the verdict is in.

The bet we made had a couple of rules.

1. We were not allowed to influence his decision at all. (Even though I am pretty sure my mother cheated on this aspect).

2. In no way was he to know of the bet. (This was to make sure he did not base his decision primarily on which concert he wanted to go to).

In the end I ended up winning the bet! I was so excited I told everyone that I get to go see the GODS of boy bands, One Direction. I went around for weeks thinking I was going to see the one thing in the world that is better then food. I was the happiest girl ever; until today. Today I was subjected to such disappointment I was not sure how to live. I woke up to this conversation.

Mom- “I can’t get you One Direction Tickets they are to expensive”

Me- “YOU WAITED TO LONG”

Mom- ” I had no idea”, “They are baby boy band, YUCK”

Me- “NO, they are GODS”

At this point she decided I was being completely irrational and she decided to ignore me the rest of the morning. Soon after this unpleasant encounter I told my best friend the sad news and as she tried to find other concerts we could go to, I pouted in the corner. Eventually she told me she was going to punch me in the face if I did not get over what I considered the end of my life. As she tried to find a new concert I set my heart on finding cheap tickets to see my boys. This turned out to be impossible and a waste of time because they are GODS and everyone wants them. Later that day when the irrational me had calmed down I compromised and decided to see Kenny.

The Tragic Story of My Fall From Grace

Like all great college stories, this one begins with alcohol. In November I was still seeing the boy mentioned in ‘Shit my Ex Said’. This was my first mistake. My second mistake was vodka. The boy and his friend (who accompanied him for some unknown reason) come from a school where drinking begins at 7:30 PM. I typically begin party preparations at around 9:30, so the extra two hours hit me hard. I consumed more alcohol than both my male companions. We were out the door by eleven and headed to a party I’d heard about through some friends.

The party was great. Things were fantastic. New friends were made and the air was filled with party sparkles. We left the party at around one and started our trek back to my apartment. Two blocks from home a police car pulled up next to us. The boys, being responsible, college-aged adults, took off like a couple of fifteen-year-olds at their first high school party. I, on the other hand, did not run, because I’m smart enough to know that running from cops only brings more trouble. And apparently, being abandoned drunk on a curbside by your cowardly companions will also lead to said trouble.

I was stopped by not one, but two cops, who obviously had nothing better to do than protect my university from the dangers of 130 pound drunk girls. It’s important here to state that in the two months prior to this event, there had been three muggings at gun point, at least one incident of gang violence in which a student was injured, two burglaries, and a highly publicized rape investigation, all on my campus. In all those instances the campus police were nowhere to be found, but of course it takes two of them to deal with a completely cooperative and calm drunk girl. The conversation went as follows:

“Do you have your ID?”

“Yes, it’s in my pocket.” (Here, Tyler tries to get her ID out of her tiny leather jacket with diagonal pockets unsuccessfully. Tyler tried this again completely sober the next morning and was still unsuccessful.)

“I can’t get it. I know my ID number though.”

“You tell me your ID number and he’ll get your ID out of your pocket.”

(Tyler rattles off her ID number like a fucking champ.)

“Okay, Tyler. Do you know what the date is?”

“No. I know it’s November.”

“Do you know approximately what date it is?”

“It’s almost Tuesday the 6th of November.” (I knew the election was Tuesday.)

“Okay and do you know what street you’re on?”

“Lawnview?”

Both of my answers were unsatisfactory, so the police called the campus rescue squad and told them to take me to the hospital. I repeatedly told the rescue squad that I did not need to go to the hospital, but I was told that if the police said I had to go, I had to go.

Upon arrival at the hospital, I was able to give them both my parents’ phone numbers, my address, my social security number, and my insurance information without any trouble. It was pretty clear that they shared my opinion that I had no business being there. Typically, when students are sent to the hospital for alcohol related things, they are hooked up to an IV for the night. I was not. They took my blood and gave me a glass of water. I arrived at the hospital at 2:00 AM and by five I was completely sober. My blood alcohol content was barely over the legal limit for driving.

After receiving the police report, I learned that the officer who filled it out was sure to leave out any evidence that I was at all coherent. He did not mention that I had said it was almost the 6th of November, instead he said I said it was the 6th of November. The report said that I was completely unaware of where
I was, even though I had identified landmarks around me in order to show him that I knew where I was even if I didn’t know the specific street name. I also learned that because my two “friends” had taken off running, they had reason to believe I had been drugged.

That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. That was the last time I talked to the immature, pig-headed douche bag I’d put up with for almost two years. For my adventure, I got three months of probation and had to take a class. I have learned my lesson; two of them, in fact. First, if he leaves you with the cops, he doesn’t have any balls and you need to move on. Second, always make sure you check the date and bring a map if you go out, because complete coherency and presence of mind is meaningless if you don’t know the exact date and what street you are on.

No One Cares, Not Even Jesus

Warning: If you are easily offended, please just don’t read this blog at all. It is not the place for you. Lately I’ve just been so sick of everyone and their opinions about religion. I don’t care what you believe. You think there’s a God? Great. I admire your faith. You believe in evolution? Fantastic. I admire that you can appreciate what the world has to offer without having to believe in a higher power. Some people just can’t shut up about it. Being a skeptic myself I find myself frequently annoyed by people who feel the need to shove their religion down the throats of others. If you are a Christian in America, you are not oppressed, so shut the fuck up. You do not even know what oppression is. When was the last time the United States government rounded up all the Christians and exterminated them? How bout never. Also, your religious beliefs don’t get to dictate what I do with my life. I can marry a woman if I want because I don’t believe what you believe. I don’t want to marry a woman, but I wouldn’t tell someone else they can’t. If you think it’s wrong to marry someone of the same sex, don’t do it. In return I won’t marry your son, that way you won’t have to worry about what liberal heathens your grandchildren will be. Your beliefs don’t dictate anyone’s life, but your own, so when you are about to make some sweeping declaration about what should be allowed based on what your religion tells you to believe, I want you to remember: No one cares.

Oh, and all you atheists out there, don’t think you got off easy. You think because you own a copy of the God Delusion and passed a high school science class that you are so much better than everyone else. “Oh, those stupid Jesus freaks. Don’t they know science?” Yes. They do. They were in the same high school science class, they just also believe in God. You are not better, actually you are just as bad. Christians may be trying to shove their religion down your throats, but in return you are just shoving  atheism down their’s with equal ferocity. Atheists commonly say things like, “Look at all the horrible things religion has caused, like wars and genocide.” I’m assuming you also believe religion sat down and painted The Last Supper and The Sistine Chapel. Since you are so sciency I thought I should remind you that abstract ideas can not paint, or go to wars, or perform actions of any kind. People may have went to war in the name of their religion, but that’s because those people are fucking nuts, not because of the religion. Another thing I often hear from atheists is, “Can’t you just enjoy the garden for its beauty without having to believe there are fairies in it?” My answer to you is, what happened to you as a child that made you such an unimaginative asshole? Yeah, that garden is pretty. So pretty that someone might even be inclined to believe there are fairies taking care of it. I know it makes you feel better to tell Christians about all the science, but you really aren’t helping anything, and again, no one cares.

I can’t stand to listen to any more bullshit from either side. Move on with your life, this is a battle neither side can win. All of this arguing just makes all of you look crazy and makes everyone hate you.

I am Just a Just

Sometimes I think I am just a just. What is just a just? A just a just is how I feel all of the time. It is every time I become irrational and get mad for no reason. It fuels my need to yell the most mundane sentences at people. A just a just uses the word just way too much. They yell (or talk loudly) in public places scaring the “normals”. It is feeling unimportant to the real world and that your life would have been better lived in a different era. They prefer books to people, and are considered to be odd.

I am just a just because I think I live inside books. Books are better than people because they do not take away imagination. Sometimes I just want to swing in a park while I close my eyes and pretend I am flying. I like thinking somewhere in the world magic exists and that my Hogwarts letter is just really, really late. I think unicorns, mermaids, and talking animals are all around us. This is what makes me just a just. Some may call me crazy, but I prefer imaginative.  Yelling is a part of my daily life. I do not mean to do this, it just happens when I am trying to make a point or want something. For example I can never be wrong and if I am I will yell back “you’re stupid” or “you’re not invited to my birthday party” while I stick my tongue out at you. Most recently I have started with the “you’re fired” and my personal favorite  “no, you’re just, you’re just wrong”. Saying phrases like this in public gets you donned as a crazy person. This makes the cute egotistical boy not want to talk to me. Usually I would not care but we hang out in the same place and I have the great pleasure of staring at him all of the time and it would be less awkward if he would understand that when we text him it is because I want a friend, and not that I am hitting on him. A just a just also refers to their best friend and themselves as the infinite WE. This means if one of us is invited somewhere WE are both going. I you text me something funny WE laugh. One of us can not date someone because WE are dating them (only one is actually dating WE is just a phrase). Most of all a just a just does not know how to feel about things, and struggles to say words resulting in a squeaky/sassy sound followed by a hair flip.

I Might Actually be a Puppy

I am actually a puppy. Figuratively.There are just so many personality traits that puppies and I share, that if someone were to meet me and not gather from the experience that I remind them of a puppy, they probably have never seen a puppy. This is a list of those traits.

1. I roll on the floor for no reason at times.  Sometimes I’ll be sitting there watching a movie and be overcome with the sudden urge to roll around on the floor. Unfortunately, I have never been particularly good at controlling urges. Puppies also have these urges, and can be often be seen rolling all over the place looking like it’s the best day ever. Because really when you’re rolling all over the floor, it is the best day ever.

2. If I love you, it’s unconditional. Puppies love their friends forever. They’ll fight for them and forgive them even if they are annoying and stupid and kick them across the floor. This loyalty could be seen as a weakness, but in my eyes it is not. My ability to love in-spite of it all has gotten me through a lot in my life. I’m sure it helps puppies get through stuff, too.

3. Sometimes I lick and bite others in a completely innocent non-sexual way. If I have the chance I will lick your hand or bite your arm. Not because I’m mean or gross, but mostly just because I can and I feel like it.

4. When I get excited about something I lose my mind. I can’t sit still and I might jump up and down like an  idiot. Sometimes when I’m excited I’ll say stupid things that make no sense at all just because. I have a tendency to run around in circles. For other things that might also happen while Tyler and puppies are excited see 1 and 3.

5. I love new friends, unless I feel like they might hurt me or my friends or family. I’m very protective of my pack, if you will, but I fucking love new faces and people and friends. I will talk to anyone, hug anyone, and give out high-fives like nobody’s business. I am so nice it is ridiculous, but mess with me and my friends and I will destroy you. It may not happen all at once, but it will happen.

6. Sugar is bad for me. Chocolate, sugar, and caffeine are easily three of my favorite things in the world, but they turn me into a lunatic. Puppies and I just can’t handle that extra boost to our already high metabolisms and we end up running all over the place yelling, and knocking stuff down, and attacking everyone.

7. I love being outside. As long as it isn’t cold, I could stay outside all day. I can run around all day finding cool stuff outside. There is so much stuff out there, like bugs and flowers and water and grass. It’s amazing. There are so many things to looks at and run through and play in. The possibilities are endless.

8. Other puppies and I play together all the time. I love to play with puppies and puppies love to play with me. We get along so well and they make me happy.

9. I am easily amused. I can entertain myself with string for like an hour at least. I find everything hilarious. Amusing me is probably easier than getting in Lindsay Lohan’s pants.

10. I have the puppy eyes. I have the unbelievable talent to make someone feel awful in two seconds just by looking like the most pitiful thing that has ever happened to planet earth. I get by this way. I can get what I want because no one wants to see me sad. Nobody can fight the puppy eyes. Not even my own father.

11. I hate to be alone. I can’t be alone for too long or I start to worry no one is ever coming back or they don’t like me anymore. I can only guess that puppies also have these irrational thoughts because they freak out when people leave them too long. A puppy left alone might eat all the toilet paper for no reason and whine and howl until they come back. Although I do not especially enjoy the taste of toilet paper, I may be likely to devour a tub of ice cream and cry.

The staggering amount of character traits I share with baby canines is just a part of my charm. Because really, who doesn’t like puppies?

Caution: Fictional Characters May Cause Psychosis

I love reading, but also I’m completely crazy. It is only natural for people to become attached to fictional characters in books or movies, but I take this attachment a step further. There have been many times in my life where I have thought that something reminded me of a situation in which I was sure I had actually been involved, only to realize that situation was in a book and I was not involved at all, except as the reader. It isn’t uncommon for me to have thoughts such as, “I really wish I could share this wonderful experience with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.” or “I am absolutely perfect for Bruce Wayne, and one day he’ll see it too.” There was a time in my childhood where I convinced myself that I had repressed memories of a childhood accident, and if I could just access those memories it would prove I was actually a princess whose mother was killed in an accident and my father had never stopped searching for the daughter he was sure was still alive. I also thought that if I didn’t sleep with all of my stuffed animals an equal amount then they would wake up in the night and murder me.  It’s not that I am not aware that these people do not exist and these things can’t possibly happen, it’s just I don’t want to believe it. I want to live in a world protected by the Dark Knight, where I received my acceptance letter at Hogwarts at age 11, and Catniss Everdeen asked me to be the Maid of Honor in her wedding. That longing is what creates this delusion in my head.

My love of fictional situations and characters has subsequently led to a break in my reality and to the development of my reputation as the resident crazy person. Although most people would say that it is a great many things that have led them to the conclusion that I’m completely bat shit, most of those things can be directly linked back to this infatuation with fiction (seriously, doesn’t that just roll off the tongue?). For example, in high school, people often assumed I was crazy because I stayed in a lot (not to mention the fact that I would sometimes say really weird things and sing in public). I was not a regular with the party crowd, and I was far from the social butterfly I am today. I know, crazy isn’t it? Most of my time was spent reading every novel I could get my hands on. I found friends in the characters in my books that I liked so much better than my real, live peers.  Another thing that confuses others about me is that I can go off on a twenty minute tangent about something I read once, and make it sound like I was really there. I have been told that listening to me talk about Batman is like listening to someone defend the honor of the love of their life. The honest truth is I am. I am defending the love of my life. Having never loved any guy as much as I love Batman, he seems to have earned the title. My point here is, I am crazy, but it’s okay. I haven’t hurt anything, except for maybe my ability to socialize. I love my freak flag, and so do all of my fictional friends. My army will ride into battle to defend my right to believe in magic and wonder and true friendship, and I will lead them from the back of unicorn, wearing a crown engraved “Baddest Bitch”.