Sunday, December 21, 2014

The Future Freaks Me Out

As an upperclassman (undergrad) college student I'm at a point in my life where a lot of people are asking "What will you do when you graduate?" Most of you reading this are probably right there with me. You can probably also relate to that feeling it evokes, which is some combination of an immediate, overwhelming desire to drive your still-adolescent fist right through the asker's big, nosy nose, and the ominous certainty that you about to burst into tears at an innocuous inquiry. Sloppy, ugly tears.
Or maybe you have some semblance of emotional stability that I lack, in which case bully for you, you fearless robot of an undergraduate.

What I'm getting at, though, is that I think that question is flawed from the start. Maybe some people really do know what's next, but I have yet to meet them. It seems crazy to me that as a society the norm is to conversationally hand some 20-year-old idiot a piece of chalk, and ask them to outline a path they can blithely hopscotch along for the next 60 years. And if that's not the path they hop onto, or maybe it changes halfway through, or they grab a pogo stick or something, then they're a failure! Just because as a 20-year-old-idiot, this person thought that maybe they would want x and they ended up doing y.

Anyway, enough of my soapbox. If you're faced with this question as often as I am, here's a cheat sheet which you might find helpful of my favorite responses to the question "What are you going to do when you graduate?"(You probably won't find it helpful at all, as it's tailored very closely to my own experiences)

1. "Live in a roach-motel of an apartment with three other starving artists while we all work in food service to pay the bills. Probably a stray cat will be involved. He or she will eat better than any of us."
1a. "Hell if I know, man. Let's pretend it's not happening
This response is for those who know where your'e coming from. You can say this to the other terrified, stumbling undergrads who peer out from the obscurity for just a moment to check and make sure that no one else knows what they're headed for, either.

2. "Become a movie star, co-star with George Clooney, win an Oscar [and stuff it up your butt]"
2a. "Teach"
This one is for all the self-righteous assholes who want to prove to themselves that giving up on their dreams was the right decision, and the one you should have been making, too. Give them something that seems absurdly ambitious, and while they're working for a degree they don't want to get a job in a field they were never interested in anyway they'll think of how someday your dream will be crushed and smile. (because if you don't get exactly that, you're a BIG FAT FAILURE) OR say "Teacher" signifying to them that in some way you have already given up on your dream (regardless of any passion you may truly foster for teaching)

3. "I'm just going to see where the wind takes me"
3a. "Why do you ask, are you hiring?"
You don't care if this person know's you're a hippy/desperate. You've just taken 3 exams, spent all night writing a research paper, and come to the realization that you've been living off tea and ramen (and some tea IN ramen) for like 3 weeks.

4. "Maybe a marathon. I also do crossfit, let me tell you ALL about it"
4a. "Drugs."
There's no reason for you to feel the need to be polite to this person. Maybe if you're terrible enough they will leave you alone.

5. "Invite my friends and family. Wait for my name to be called, Accept my diploma and have it framed."
5a. "Probably cry a lot and then trip as soon as they turn the camera on me"
Maybe if you answer the question very literally the person will think you're moderately funny and know that you would like to change the subject.



I'm on fire and now
I think I'm ready to bust
A move check it out
(Haiku stolen from the lyrics of "The Future Freaks Me Out" by Motion City Soundtrack, which seemed too appropriate to not be included in here)
-A

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Crushed

There's a phenomenon sweeping across social media dedicated to allowing shy or vulgar college students to make anonymous sexual advances... if you are in college, hop on the twitter and type in your school then "crushes" or "compliments" and odds are you'll find it. Some guy, somewhere, who spends all day fielding 140 character professions of love and sexual attraction so that people can see these anonymous messages and pretend like they are directed at themselves.

I've been perusing the "SLU Crush" Twitter page however, and I've found a couple of surprising patterns....
(rather than waste my life creating and inserting a thousand images of the tweets, I'm going to copy and paste them. If you want prettier formatting, you can start paying me. If you'd like to confirm the tweets for yourselves, check this out: https://twitter.com/SLU_crush )
...Such as:


1. Crushing on Jesus?

"I have a crush on Jesus. He really comes through for me, but I know he knows how I feel about him."
Don't get me wrong; this is sweet. Someone took this den of hormone infused, social media fueled debauchery and thought "This needs a little Jesus!" and maybe they're right. Maybe SLUCrushes DOES need Jesus...but when considering the medium you are using to profess your love for Jesus, are you SURE that's what you want to say?? This person might want to look at the other tweets on this account...

"Holla to all my virgins out there "
Similarly, this is super sweet. Very well-intentioned. I support this whole-heartedly. But looking at just about ANY other tweet on this account (any tweet except the Jesus one, that is) definitely frames this in a light of "I wanna hook up with other virgins" ...which is weird. And a little confusing.

2. Vague Generalizations

"To all dem girls with the big butts, you shake it like we at a strip club"
ALL dem girls? Are you SURE? Also, just where and when do you picture them "shaking it"? You can't expect a person to gyrate their way through life, simply because they have a pillowy buttox.

"Ayy girl what that mouth do?"
Who are you even talking to? Is your question sincere? Do you survive through premastication like a baby bird?

3.Poor Puppies

"Hi Ashley"
Oh, sweetheart... if you need this anonymous forum just to say hello to somebody, you should probably reevaluate... (And if this is how you always do things, maybe it's time to get off the computer and learn some social skills in the real world. I'm rooting for you, little puppy.)

"Kendall Nettleton, what's up, how's it goin? Anyways while you're here thought I'd just say I think youre a beautiful quirky but cool girl."
Oh PLEASE stop. First of all, you asked 2 questions, neither of which she is going to respond to, because a)this is anonymous b)this is not a private conversation c)she might not even see it, and d)they would both have the same answer anyway. Learn to converse.
Aside from that, this post SCREAMS of  some clingy "romantic" type looking for his "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" (Which I say from years of experience being mistaken for the manic pixie dream girl of everybody and their cousin.) I put "romantic" in quotes because while I'm sure this poor pup sees himself as some grandoise and soulful romantic, in reality, he's probably more of a timid "nice guy" type. All this pup needs is a little self-awareness.

"The guy in the purple shirt and green socks.... hi you're cute"
To be fair, that's a pretty notable outfit... but the way these things work is that the moderator collects what people say for a week or two and then posts them all at once, so if he's got decent hygiene, odds are he's changed clothes. (Also, if you think he's cute, go talk to him in real life and see what his name is you silly goose. Geez.)

4. Vague Descriptions of People

"Ellie with the boobs"
...has a great personality? ...is a talented dancer? ...should think about a threesome with me and my buddy George? What are you even trying to say about Ellie except that she has notable sacks of tissue hanging off her chest? Try a little harder, man.
Like this person:

"Greg Gornick... Damn he's fine"
See? Not that hard.

5. Meatsticks?

"Doug Vaughn you're such a meatstick, please come to Fusz and flat out dip that nugget pouch all over my face."
Don't make me equate testicles with chicken nuggets. Layers of disgust.

"Jacob Samuels is a meatstick! Someone give me a towel I'm dripping."
Wait, what does meatstick mean? Are you describing people as a giant walking penis? Wouldn't that be an insult? Am I missing something here?

6. Racial Insensitivity

"Aime Nunez is so gorgeous. What ethnicity are you?"
That sounds like not a question you ask anonymously over social media....

"Patrick Frampus. Let me dominate you and your jew fro."
If you like Patrick's hair maybe your could describe it in a complimentary way ("your sexy curls, your wild hair, your fluffy locks," -whatever) rather than "jew fro"


7. Accuracy

"So much sexual tension in the library "
Sorry guys, I know I can be too much for you all, sometimes.


Again, though I've followed this twitter account since I was aware of it's existence, I only pulled tweets from the last 2 months, so go check it out for yourself!
And if you aren't following me on twitter, you should start: @MOSinatER

~Alicen

Alicen is three
Syllables and that does not
Fit well in Haiku
(That Haiku is called "two levels of meta")

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I'm a Big Kid Now

Hey there! It's been a while since we talked (I say that every time. It's always the truth. We've never actually talked.) because I have a big kid life... and that big kid life makes me grumpy.

But I'm back at school now, and this year I am a JUNIOR (credit-wise a senior, but I am averse to the s-word, and we will not be using it) which means UPPERCLASSMAN (upperclasswoman?) which means I MAKE THE RULES AROUND HERE NOW (That's not what it means, really, but humor me.) And here they are for your reference!

LIBRARY RULES
1. If you can't figure out how to use the printer, you can't be pre-med.
There are instructions online. I made a sign. Also, it's just a printer, it's really not incredibly complicated. If you can't figure out how to turn your electronic syllabus into a paper syllabus without me holding your hand and touching the buttons for you, I think it's safe to say that med school isn't for you.

2. If you walk in with pizza during lunch/dinner times, you must share it with library workers.
We get hungry too, man.

3. If you walk in with pizza after 10pm you must bring a second for the library workers.
Because overnights suck, and now our sadness smells like pepperoni.

4. If you have a research question before 9am, you bring coffee and bagels.
There's a good chance the person trying to walk you through using the online database to access another library's private reserves of microfische has been awake for about 20 hours.

5. The phrase "It's not on the shelf" if off-limits to anyone who has spent less than a total 5 hours of their life in the actual stacks of the library.
The fact that you are using Dewey Decimal techniques to locate something in a LCCsystem doesn't mean we mysteriously don't have it anymore. It doesn't mean we've shelved it improperly. It means you need to pick up one of the location guides that I spent two years of my life cutting out and placing around the library, and figure some things out.

6. If I catch you watching porn on the public use computers, I confiscate your genitals.
You can have them back once you've proved you can use them responsibly. (Being caught in the library watching porn on your OWN computer is punishable either by genital confiscation, or by me photographing the event and then posting it on the library's twitter page along with some snarky comment. Your choice.)

CLASSROOM RULES
1. Proudly announcing your intentions to never touch the book which is being used for class/homework is punishable by shoving the book in question up your stupid butt.
I think this one speaks for itself. Although YOU certainly can't, you inarticulate, book-ignoring, twerp.

2. No couple-y BS in the classroom.
This was something I never saw at my all-girls Catholic high school, but having to deal with it now, as a 20-year old feels ridiculous. Nobody voting in presidential elections should be dumb enough to waste their private collegiate education sitting in a class, ignoring the teacher, and publicly using terms like "cuddlemouse" and "I wuv you mostest." Have a little decorum.

3. Those who don't pull their weight on a group project are to be put in the stocks.
Portable stockades may be provided so that you may attend classes, and also so that you may look ridiculous trying to take notes with your hands stuck at face-level.

4. All pop-quizzes come with cupcakes
I am very hungry. And not usually super prepared for pop-quizzes.

SOCIAL RULES
1. All friend groups will coordinate times of parties and agree to have the fun ones on different and convenient weekends.
Obviously this is a toughie, but if all you people who barely know each other could just coordinate my social calendar while factoring in my academic calendar that would be pretty cool.

2. If you're a person who gets drunk and then cries, stop getting drunk at parties.
By now it may seem normal to you, but I assure you, everyone else is still seriously weirded out by it. Try Mike's SOFT lemonade (not an actual product. Just referring to normal lemonade.) and maybe my puppy calendar won't seem so poetically tragic.

3. Those who say they will come to a show and do not come will wear a blindfold for a week.
You didn't see my show. Now you don't get to see anything. Seems fair.

4. Posting your grades on social media will result in me confiscating your social media accounts.
Honestly, I WANT to like ALL my social media contacts. I really do. But this everlasting shrine you've made to a test that you "woah! totes didnt even studyyyyy lolol" for, it's going to be difficult for me.
If you want your great aunt in Kentucky to see your grades, then send it to her. In a private message. If you DON'T want your great aunt in Kentucky to see naked Ron Jeremy as your profile picture, then you better HOPE I don't see grades on your social media, because I WILL seize control of it... Much like your genitals, I will give your online identity back when you've proved you can use it responsibly.

If I missed anything let me know. I have lots of agnst that's searching for an appropriate outlet now that I'm no longer a teenager... do adults get to make angsty comedy blogs?... Well, this one does.


~Alicen

Audition week is
syllabus week. Already,
teachers think I suck.

(if you are new/newish to this blog, let it be known that I end each post with an autobiographical haiku. That's what those are.)


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Teen-Mom-Cooties

Hey there stragglers!
I say that because (as you may have noticed) I haven't written a post in about 3 billion years. Whoops!

Well, lots has been happening, but the last month or so I've been living at my little cousin's house and babysitting them in the mornings while their parents are at work! WOHOO!
Consequently, I've been spending a lot of time driving around and acting as the guardian of two small children, which on more than one occasion has led people to believe that I am a teenage mother of TWO... with a variety of results.

Now of course, I could never presume to compare my babysitting experience to the trails faced by actual teenage mothers. If you wanna learn something more about that, I recommend this blog post: http://almosthomestl.org/the-cost-of-ignoring-teen-mothers courtesy of a super fantastic local shelter for homeless teenage moms and their kids!

However, in my own humble experience there were a variety of reactions from different age groups...


Young People 
A certain waitress at a cracker barrel in rural Illinois went out of her way to be super nice and understanding for me, which was really sweet!! If it weren't for the sympathetic glances, it wouldn't even have been that weird... But this girl, who was probably just my age definitely had a respect for my "position" which was born out of fear. I say that she always approached the table with caution, like we'd surrounded ourselves with landmines full of poor choices, but like I said, very nice girl. Definitely the nicest young person who seemed to mistake me for a teen mom- Pretty much every other person my age kept their distance. Interacting with them would make you think they'd heard a ghost... As in, people went so far as to pretend not to see us,presumably because teen-mom-cooties are transferred through eye-contact and common courtesy.
But I survived high school, so being ignored by people my own age wasn't exactly a novel experience.

Slightly Older People
I put this group in because of the time I spent with the kids at six flags. These are still-young-but-of-slightly-more-reasonable-age parents (21-24), usually with kids too small for all the cool rides, who would gaze at me with a look that doomed soldiers might share on the battlefield (and made comments to essentially the same extent). This time I was the uncomfortable one, because while it felt nice to harbor a sense of solidarity with these strangers, I was instinctually about as eager as my peers to opt out of the young parents club...Those brave men and women are far braver than I.

Older People
Here are the middle aged people and up. Most of the oldest humans seemed disapproving in a mildly sympathetic, almost patronizing way, which left a "You must have it rough- BUT you brought this on yourself. I wish the best for you, you filthy whore" kind of vibe (you get that, right?) Others were a little more forward with their scathing looks of judgement, rolling eyes and shaking heads, as if to say "How dare you flaunt your shame in public and allow these children to have normal happy lives, it's repulsive." A selfish part of me almost wishes I'd run into more of this type of disapproval, because in my position as someone who isn't actually a teen mother, I was immune to their disapproval, and felt comfortable flaunting my mistaken position. HELLO WORLD!! TAKE A LOOK AT MY YOUTH, AND AT THE CHILDREN I AM HOLDING HANDS WITH!!! WHO'S OFFENDED?? HUH? WHO?!?

But really what I learned from the past month of catching pseudo-adolescent-mom-cooties is that people were generally more understanding than I would have expected them to be... at least, people in rural Illinois parks/restaurants and Six Flags St. Louis, who didn't actually know me and weren't in a position to tell me how to live... 
And of course, I super do NOT promote teen pregnancy. I think people should try their darndest to PREVENT TEEN PREGNANCY
HOWEVER
Shaming teen mothers is no way to do that. Teen mothers are ALREADY mothers, so making them feel like pariahs is only going to hurt them AND their kids, which is no way to be as a society. I think all mothers should be celebrated for their incredible hard work, and supported in times of need. Like I said, parents are a lot tougher and smarter and better than I think I ever could be, so props to you all.

I am really thankful for the people I came across this past month who went out of their way to look out for/be kind to me and the kids this month, whether or not they thought I had "Teen-mom-cooties."

Love, Ali

It is four AM
I wish I had gone to bed
Like three hours ago

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Lessons From a Doormat Employee

I didn't get my first job until I was 17 years old (partially because I didn't have a car. That came when I was 18) But during the (nearly) 3 years I've managed to retain employment I've had 3 big-girl salary-type jobs, four/five jobs which paid a stipend, as well as numerous volunteer jobs (because I am gullible/charitable/a college student, and they tell me that exposure is worth the free labor...Please hire me. Please.) and through this array of experiences, I feel that I've learned quite a bit about people, and life, and I'd like to share some of that with you lovely people.

1. The Scariest Part About Working With Children is Working With Their Parents
For reference, I have been a Sunday School Teacher, a Babysitter a Vacation Bible School Counselor (and Music Director), a Girl scout Camp Counselor, a Tutor for immigrant children, and a Party Hostess at a Water park/Rec Center. I've seen children bleed, and cry, and fall out of their prosthetic limbs at high speeds. I've had children touch me with poop, try to forcibly remove my clothing, and jump into toilets... But NEVER has a child, even an injured or crying child, been so terrifying or psychologically damaging as an angry parent who feels that I've somehow wronged them/their offspring.
And why? Because grown-ups suck. Kind of. Probably, it's because PEOPLE suck, and they are infinitely more likely to get defensive and jump to (OFTEN ABSURD) conclusions when it comes to something as precious as their kids. Besides, some people really seem to get off on "taking a stand" and going nuts on their caregivers, possibly because it feels like they're doing something heroic for their kids. Everybody wants to be the hero, even if "being the hero" means making an eighth grade vacation bible school volunteer feel like poop because she didn't know you don't let your kid eat marshmallows.
BONUS in any capacity, working in the service industry means that everyone is smarter and better than you. Since the parents paid for whatever you are providing, and you are younger (therefore stupider) than they, you must bow down and accept their will, whether or not it completely breaks every rule that keeps you employed.

ALSO a terrifically sad number of people use their children as a sort of status symbol. This was something I noticed especially while I was working kids' parties. Conversations between parents often went something like this:
"Well when Andrea went to [YOUR KID]'s party, she said there wasn't really a distinctive theme [Because that's how my seven year old speaks] so in order to make HER party BETTER than [YOUR KID]'s party, I bought $150 worth of Disney princess decorations that she will look at for all of 30 seconds before begging to jump into the pool, but I'll ignore her and try my best to make sure that all the OTHER children are extremely interested in the decorations/activities/party-favors so that they'll tell their parents how much better this party was than any other child's party, and their parents will feel inferior to ME. THE MEGAMOM!!... Also, I have a separate pinata for boys and girls because not only do I like to encourage gender stereotypes at a tender age, but I love antagonizing the hostess, WHO SHOCKINGLY DOESN'T HAVE A PLACE TO HANG PINATAS INDOORS- LETS JUST HOOK IT ONTO THE DROP CEILING WHILE SHE'S AWAY AND DESTROY THE BUILDING THEN BLAME HER."
...Okay, so I got a little carried away, but that's the gist.
(And for the record, the many experiences I've had with parents who don't speak much/any English have not a single incident in their number which can hold up to the more terrifying encounters with those who could effectively communicate. Communication is key.)

2. People Will Always Expect More Than What They Paid For
"Well I've already bought so many drinks, can you just bring out a large order of onion rings?"
Actually, you've spent $6.50 on drinks so far, which is how much a large order of onion rings costs. So no.
"An hour and a half with the room just isn't enough time, at least let us leave our stuff in here"
1.5 hours was in the contract you signed when you paid for the party space, and I need time to clean the massive mess you've left before prepping for the next party. Which is in fifteen minutes.
"What, $40,000 isn't enough to get me another #^@%ing study room?" (direct quote)
No. Just because you pay tuition, doesn't mean you deserve extra study room time during finals week... we are all students here, by the way.


Whether they expect you to stay before/after to watch their children, walk into the theater after the doors have closed, check out reference materials, use the slide that's only for kids as tall as the plywood giraffe, tour through the private dressing rooms, or somehow make the meal they ordered cheaper because they've been hitting on you the entire time they've been seated...Every person thinks that their money is worth more than anyone else's money. Even me. Even you. In any job where you give people things they've paid for, you will perpetually play the part of the messenger being shot. For some reason, everyone will have it in their heads that everyone around them is getting cut a better deal, or that you're somehow treating them unfairly by giving them exactly what they paid for and nothing else.

3. Patrons/Customers/Consumers Find Simple Tasks Extremely Confusing
One element I've encountered at every place of employment/service is that people love to make their problems someone else's problem. Nobody wants you to tell them where the plastic silverware is, they want you to reach across the table and pick it up for them. Nobody wants to LEARN how to use a scanner. They want you to take their 30-page document across the library and scan it for them. And why sign into the sign-in sheet when you could just as easily dictate all your information to the volunteer, who could have been accomplishing so many other things in that moment. The trick is finding a way to make them feel silly for not being able to complete these incredibly simple tasks on their own. Also, Capri Suns are made for children. A shocking number of people seemed to think it absurd that I should allow the children at their parties to navigate such a treacherous device as a pointed straw independently...Sheesh!


4. If You Don't Stand Up For Yourself, Nobody Will
This year I found out that a job I performed last year has been given to three people (and the Internet, which we didn't have a year ago in that building) each of whom will individually receive exactly the same pay I did for doing all their jobs at once.
For months last summer, I worked for a boss who would scream in my face, grab me, call me stupid, and reprimand me in front of customers; often for 'not doing' jobs which I had already completed.
Countless times, I've rearranged my social life and my sleep/study schedule to accommodate work schedules which change at the drop of a hat... Like today. When I got my 6 hour work-time less than 12 hours in advance.

These are only a few examples of the many ways I've laid down and allowed myself to be a doormat in the professional world. It's difficult when you're strapped for cash, and nobody is hiring, and your minimum-wage position could easily be filled by anyone who comes in off the street. However, if you allow yourself to think this way, that you deserve to be treated poorly, or that if you don't accept poor treatment you aren't worth being paid, you WILL encounter people who will treat you worse than they would treat the jank soda machine in the corner (Which makes sense: Damage the soda machine=PAY for the soda machine. Damage your dignity=a laugh) ...and they will stomp all over you with a smile on their face. Because nobody knows they're the bad guy until you TELL them they're the bad guy. (Usually they won't believe you right away. Or usually, they just ignore you.)

For a while I figured being treated poorly was a part of any job. If you're a waitress, people are going to objectify you and make insulting jokes. If you're working kid's parties, the weird uncle might grab your ass, parents will expect you the bend the rules to make their kid's day special. If the schedule is in flux, you might have to drop everything and work till 3am. If people are upset, they are going to talk down to you, and get angry, and possibly threaten you, and it's your job to sit there and take it... And to some extent, those elements ARE part of the job. Having been through them, though, I am now PREPARED to deal with these types of situations, but I've realized that "dealing with them" is not the same as "allowing them to continue." I wish I'd had the guts to stand up for myself when customers treated me rudely, or ran out without paying. I wish I'd been able to tell my supervisor that I can't live my life around his schedule, or tell my boss that if I'm going to do three people's jobs I need to get paid for more than one, etc. In all of those situations I feared that speaking up would mean losing my job, or making my superiors upset with me, and it may well have, but looking back, I am far more ashamed of letting people walk all over me than I would have been if I'd spoken up for myself and lost a job.



Hopefully some other doormat out there will see this and realize they deserve better, because I certainly wish I'd known a little sooner.

~Alicen

Today I got off
of work early, so that's why
This is poorly ed(ited)...I wrote this at the library

Monday, April 14, 2014

The Tail of Freckles

Yesterday I went for a run with a sweet little doggie named Freckles from Stray Rescue St. Louis. This is her account of the adventure:

Started today in my home box. Humans everywhere. Neighbor dogs are noisy. I am also noisy. I am not outdone by neighbor dogs. I jump the highest. I am master of jumping.
Human-friend opens my homebox. He puts on double-leashes! I love human-friend. Leashes mean adventures. Better lick his face and bark appreciatively into his dull human-ears. He tastes like other dog mouth.
Human-friend brings me to new human, but I am distract. Other dogs all around. Must show that I am loudest. Other dogs cannot see me from inside homeboxes. Better jump. Neighbor-dogs bark louder. Success.

New-human makes barking sound- seems impressed by my jumping. Opens big door as reward. I jump onto new-human, impressively. Another human bark. This human is nice and smelly. Tastes salty. I like tasting salty human. I like being outside. So many things to sniff.

New-human seems to understand that I have many places to go. Goes fast. I like fast. I like New-human.
Suddenly tiny winged demons appear! New-human is not quite fast enough. Seems displeased by frequent demon-chasing expeditions. Today I do not taste the winged demons. Demon feather went in my nose.  I expel demon-remnant from nose. New-human is pleased. Makes odd human-barks. She seems to not grasp the seriousness of winged-demons, but I forgive.

Male humans making human-sounds at New-human. New-human smells nervous. Pulls me closer. Male humans look to me. I tell them not to make New-human nervous. Male-humans smelling nervous now. They leave. New-human pets me. Happy smell.

Humans go in straight lines. Stay out of dirt, only walk beside dirt. Very confusing. New-human runs in dirt with me. Circles many trash cans. New-human must know about dirt and smells. However, she stops between un-dirt paths. Much stopping and waiting. She stares at circle box. Circle box has lights, but can't smell it. Too high. Don't understand stopping and circle-box. New-human likes to pet. Stopping and waiting not so bad.

New-human introduces me to many other human. Making much human sound while stopping. All humans look at circle box. All humans pet. I impress them with jumping. They make human barks. New-human finds me water bowl. I find her a meaty ham bone. She does not want to share. Does not want me to eat ham-bone. Leaves it in dirt. I forgive.

We run forever. Run till I am tired. Less running now and more sniffing. Run all the way back to home-box. Human-friend is waiting! Takes my leashes from New-human. I bark goodbye and scamper to home-box for naps. New-human looks sad. Stands outside home-box till door is closed. . Neighbor dogs are jealous of my adventures. Such fun. I love New-human.

~Ali

Got my mom hooked on
Game of Thrones and now it is
Everywhere I turn
(that Haiku is entitled "Paradise")

Monday, April 7, 2014

Scenes From Life: Act 2 Scene 4

Scene: a long hallway, lined with doors. GIRL stands in the center of the hallway wearing a backpack. PROFESSOR, FRIEND, COWORKER, STUDENT, PARENT, DIRECTOR, and BOSS enter and exit the doors Scooby-Doo style. Each time one of that group delivers a line, he or she places a heavy medicine ball in GIRL's arms or backpack. At first only one of the group appears onstage at the same time as GIRL but as the scene progresses their entrances and exits overlap and their traffic patterns grow increasingly chaotic. GIRL's feet remain planted.

PROFESSOR: Exams are approaching, don't forget you have this project

BOSS: I'm going to need you to cover this shift

FRIEND: Can you help me with my presentation?

DIRECTOR: Research her history and decide on her motivations

COWORKER: I have to leave, will you come in early tomorrow?

PARENT: Did you forget about your cousin's birthday?

STUDENT: We really need to start our project, when can you meet?

entrances and exits begin to overlap

PROFESSOR: I really want you to register for my next class

FRIEND: I never see you anymore! Let's hangout this Friday!

DIRECTOR: Great, come in rehearsal shoes and dress tomorrow

COWORKER: Thanks for covering me!

PARENT: You should come home, I'm making your favorite

STUDENT: You're really better at revising than I am...

Increasingly chaotic. Some characters may shove or throw their medicine balls

PROFESSOR: Exams are in TWO WEEKS

BOSS: Where is your time sheet?

FRIEND: Are you avoiding me or something?

DIRECTOR: There's no energy in this scene, you gotta take the air out!

COWORKER: I forgot to check these in

PARENT: When are you going to clean your room?

STUDENT: Can you tell me where I can find-

FRIEND: Where have you been?

TEACHER: You have three papers due before-

BOSS: Why have you been coming in late?

Stack of medicne balls in GIRL's arms is becoming impossibly high

COWORKER: What's our policy on-

BOSS: Send an email to every-

FRIEND: Saturday, come to my-

STUDENT: Mandatory meeting this-

PARENT: Whatever happened to that-

DIRECTOR: Lines, lines, lines!

TEACHER: I hope you haven't forgotten-

GIRL: STOP!

All but GIRL freeze and slowly exit through doors. When all have exited, girl staggers under the weight of the medicine balls and falls backwards. They land on top of her. Blackout.

~Alicen

I just want to sleep
But now's when I remember
Forgotten homework

^That haiku was lame
So is my social life... my
Twitter's still funny(?)

Saturday, April 5, 2014

A Completely Accurate Account of My Time at the Clinic

*EDIT: Not sure why I started making this blog post about my experience at the doctor's office, but since it was just sitting in my "drafts" folder and I haven't posted in an age and a half, I'd toss it on up here. Oh goodness, it doesn't even make sense, does it? It's just sort of an absurd stream of consciousness.. whatever, here it is.*

Going to see a doctor is not something I do often. I'm not a big fan of waiting rooms, or stethescopes, or needles, or co-pay or the feeling that you are cornered byfestering disease germs at all times- every easily-wiped piece of vinyl funiture secretly a cesspool of sinus infections just waiting to strike.

I'm also not a big fan of telling people all about my business, which is why it's weird now for me to be saying these words: Today I saw a doctor and here's why
Yesterday when I had a "tingly" feeling in my hands (like they'd just fallen asleep) for FIVE HOURS I went to the Health Clinic on campus, and told them about the tingling along with frequent headaches and moodswings I've been dealing with lately. They suggested I make an appointment for today. So I did that. And for once, I actually showed up to something I said I would attend....

Of course, whereas before I made the appointment I had been CONVINCED that my body was on the verge of crumbling and falling apart, -that maybe Web MD was correct, -that maybe THIS WAS THE END... The moment I stepped through the doors of the clinic for MY appointment, it was suddenly as if all my strange symptoms had completely subsided , and - oh no, what was I doing there anyway, wasting everyone's time? CERTAINLY THEY WILL SEE ME AS A FRAUD AND LAUGH ME OUT OF THE CLINIC: 'BE GONE YOU FILTHY WELL PERSON! WE HAVE NO NEED FOR YOUR KIND!!!' I could just see it in their faces!
Already things were going so splendidly.


Once we got past the awkward questions part ("Did driving to school make you feel weak? When was your last period? Do your brothers and sisters have cancer?")
I leveled up into the "strength test" challenge
After making a show of flexing my massive guns and nearly swatting my elderly doctor across the room upon her request to resist her gentle pushing she came up with this challenge: "I want you to squeeze my fingers as hard as you can"... I take her spindly index and middle fingers into my strong 19 year old hands, examining the delicate crepe paper skin, the tired fingernails, pondering the task at hand. I see myself pulverizing this woman's fingers instantly into dust in a b-horror movie sort of way. "Are you SURE you-"
"Yes, just squeeze my fingers, hard as you can."
We spend the rest of the appointment reinflating her pulverized digits.

After my spectacular display of superhuman strength came the final challenge. The big shebang. In assigning me my Boss Battle this doctor pulled out all the stops and solemnly stated "I think we should do a blood test." Aaahh yes, the blood draw. My old enemy.

Tentatively, I saunter into the tiny room of the clinic in which bodily fluids are collected and sent out for testing, trying to put on a tough face so that the needle isn't aware of how unreasonably terrified I am. The friendly nurse straps me into her highchair of death (seriously, there's a lap bar. I guess you're supposed to rest your arm on it, but all I want to do when I sit there is eat cheerios with my fingers. And make the dinosaur chicken nuggets eat each other... until a single nugget stands alone atop a hill of dinosaur/chicken carnage. Only this dinosaur shall be eaten, for only she has proved her worth...) with a giggle and prances over to her white vinyl cabinet of torture. Next she smiles ties a blue elastic around my bulging bicep so tightly that i can feel the stressed elastic fibers becoming one with my flesh. Here it comes... first the freezing antiseptic to make sure my filthy skin doesn't leak disease into my bloodstream, and then...

Drawing blood is actually super not a big deal. For most people. For me, it's either sitting in a chair for at least twice as long as the doctor expected me to while s/he watches the empty bag/tube and frantically tells me to pump my hand, wondering if I still have a pulse, or, on RARE occasions, it's a crimson monsoon unable to be tamed by mere cotton-balls secured with medical tape. This was one of those times.

After gasp-panting my way though the arduous task of having a piece of metal shoved inside me and plucked back out, the friendly nurse taped me up with my cottonball and sent me on my merry way, completely unaware of the blodshed which would soon ensue.
On my way down the hall to the checkout desk was when I first noticed that I'd already begun bleeding through the cotton ball "This seems odd, maybe I should-" NEXT! Called Friendly Nurse #2 - "ah well, I'll just check out first, and then maybe I can-" my casual thought is interrupted by a blood-eruption of arterial geyser proportions. Before I know what's happening, blood is spraying everywhere, Tarantino-style. In a panic, I turn back to the nurse with the cotton balls and as a result the entire hallway becomes a gory bio-hazard. Stunned students doctors and nurses are strewn about the office, some still staggering from the blast; others trying to piece themselves and and their bloody belongings back together. All of them looking like they just tumbled out of an episode of The Walking Dead. I turn back to Friendly Nurse #2 "...I gotta go"


And then I bought myself a muffin.
~Ali

Guys, guess who does not
Have hypothyroidism...
That would be this girl!

Sunday, March 2, 2014

The A.Moser Academy of Loneliness

Hey there Blog friends! Haven't talked to you in a while!- Now I know what you're thinking:
Why's that, Alicen? Why do you keep bailing on us? Where have you been?  Do you think you have more important places to be? Why don't you like us anymore? What do you even do all day? WE HATE YOU FOR NOT SPENDING EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR TIME WITH US YOU SELFISH CRETIN!!!

...No? Oh, guess that's just everyone else.

You see, as someone with a great many friends from a great many different groups/circles/cliques (not that that's unique or special, just a fact) I get these sort of questions relatively often. Add on the fact that we have entered a time of the semester where I have been spending approximately 80 hours every week at work(3jobs)/class(18hours)/rehearsal(2current shows)/meetings(2clubs,1e-board)/recordings(2audioshows)/studying(did I mention midterms?!?) And it's this time of year that those responses begin to get a little more visceral, particularly from my more... let's say, socially conscious friends.

That being said, I have been loading myself down like this since about fourth grade, so I've been able to develop a few methods to deal with it. I figure there may be a few of you who are similarly loaded down, or otherwise seeking ways to politely tell people to buzz off, so I thought I might share a few of my own tactics! (and if you'd like to share a few of yours, I'd welcome the input)



So, the first thing you have to decide when blowing people off is whether or not you want to be honest. This decision shapes everything.

If you decide not to wickedly deceive those you love in order to manipulate their emotions and attitudes towards you, it's possible that they might recognize your honesty and appreciate that quality, thus building a strong trust bridge that will lead the two of you all the way to friendship land...
So, If that kind of thing appeals to you, your responses will look like this:
-"I'm sorry, I have four classes two meetings and a five hour rehearsal scheduled for tomorrow, and I really don't have time to hang out"
-"Honestly, I've had this insanely busy week. I think I might just study and catch up on sleep this weekend"
-"Actually, I find your company intensely irritating. Even now, you carry an aura that feels like a yeast infection and sounds like the word "moist," or "irregardless". I'd rather gauge out and  feed them to you than hang out. Bye."

But for most, a simple denial and excuse will not be enough. They will expect you to make a time to see them in the future. You can say something like this:
-"I can eat breakfast with you any Tuesday or Thursday between 4 and 6am! How does that sound?"
-"My schedule isn't going to lighten up for a month or so... but, I can go to the mall and watch movies after maybe... April 15th?"
-"I will literally never have time for you. This is a fact."



HOWEVER if your friends are gullible schlubs, and you're the type of person who doesn't mind tossing aside your integrity for the sake of satiating your own selfish desires, dishonesty is the way to go. (This is also the route you're going to want to take if your self-absorbed friends aren't going to be understanding of your real-life situation and need to be lied to.) Down this debaucherous road lies far more opportunity. For example, if you're too busy, and your selfish friends aren't going to take that as an excuse, you'll want to focus on one specific responsibility and blow it way out of proportion, like so:
"Oh I would but my stupid English professor is requiring me to go to a seminar that's like FOUR HOURS LONG, and afterwards I have to write a twelve page paper and make a video presentation about how it relates to the readings we did, all due at midnight. She's such a despotic tyrant, man, allow me to redirect the conversation to complaining about this professor until you feel bad for me and go away..."

Alternately, depending on how horrible you're willing to be, you can make up an emergency/tragedy that they will feel obligated to completely excuse you for. However, depending on the severity of this imagined horror, you'll have to remember to remain upset about it for a time afterwards, or at least remember the lie you told, so that when they ask how you're doing later you can respond appropriately. To avoid some sort of baked goods/ surprise gift/comforting gesture from the golden-hearted friend you are ruthlessly deceiving it's important to keep the tragedy as impersonal as possible:
"As much as I'd love to go with you guys, my second cousin thrice removed just died."
or if death seems to heavy "I'm sorry, my ex boyfriend's older brother lost his foot in a freak canoeing accident, and I promised to visit him in the hospital for the next 38 hours... I can't say no to a cripple, guys."

Or maybe all that's a little heavy for you. Why not lie to make yourself look better?
"Oh I would, but that's when I volunteer helping cancerous toddlers with Alzheimer's in the inner-city learn to find healing through artistic expression"
"I want to, really, but the dean of the law school invited me to lunch. Apparently he wants my opinion before he moves forward with some new business plan..."
 
Or play it old school and just fake an illness?:
"Hun, you know I'd come if I could, but if I go anywhere but home right now I'll blow chunks all over everybody"
"I cant. I really can't. This headache is so bad I'm seeing stars. My brain is exploding. My head is full of tapdancing elephants. There is gray matter leaking out my ears. Kill me now."


However, that being said, the only 100% effective way to make sure someone won't want to hangout with you plays out something like this:

Friend: Hi there bud, we're all headed to the movies later, do you wanna-
You: *punches friend in the face*
Friend: ....
You: *makes frantic escape*
Friend: "Oh, you're busy. That's cool"

Again, I speak from experience, people. It's the only way... Class dismissed

~Alicen

This blog took me four
Freaking days just to write, I
Wish I was kidding

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Shameless Plugs and Some Almost-Comedy


So I've been trying to get into standup comedy. As the type of person who sees my own life as a sort of long, bitingly sarcastic sitcom, going from making fun of life in my head to making fun of life in a grungy bar seemed like a sort of natural progression. It's come to my attention, however, that not everyone finds humor in the mundane, so mostly, this just makes me come off as a sarcastic butt-head. Occasionally, though people will toss me a few sympathy chuckles, and these have been enough to give me the grand notion that I am a comedic genius worthy of some small, dim-lit stage in a smoke-filled comedy club.


Now, when I began this post, my intent was to just throw down the rough first-draft transcripts of a couple jokes I've written to try and get some feedback... Unfortunately, things that are funny when performed and things that are funny when read don't always correlate.- It's like the difference between reading a play and actually watching that play (and if you've never had the experience of reading a play then seeing it in real life, then GET THEE TO A NUNNERY and by "nunnery" I meant "library" where you can bask in the glory of many a classical/contemporary script, and by "get thee to a nunnery" I was making a Hamlet reference, you uncultured swine)
BUT this is my blog, and I decide how it goes, so I'm throwing some jokes in here anyway, and there ain't nothin' you can do about it! I'll try to clean them up a bit so they're mildly humorous without being performed, but no promises.  (a couple of my stand-up ideas I've already presented here, so I won't bore you by rephrasing those. If you're curious, but don't wanna bother wading through previous posts, you should check these out:
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-importance-of-b-word-and-ways-i-am.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2013/10/basic-templates-for-interations-with.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-uncomfortable-truth-about-boobs.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2014/02/little-co2-emissions-on-prairie.html )


Once you've gone through them, I invite you to drown my hopes and dreams in a sea of white-hot criticism (seriously though, some feedback would be awesome, white-hot or otherwise)


On dating a decent human being
So I've been dating this guy for six months now, and he isn't aggressive, or sarcastic, or violent, or mean-spirited... and it's HORRIBLE. Because I am ALL of those things! And after SIX MONTHS of dating me he's remained unscathed by my repulsive personality. Obviously something must be done about this, so lately I've seen every interaction between us as a sort of challenge, to see how quickly I can drag this pure, kind-hearted human down to my level In every fight I am both the instigator and the escalator, and it's really pretty absurd, because no matter WHAT I do, he won't yell at me, won't insult me, won't push me back, and he doesn't even break things! And the WORST part is, I can't complain about it. Cuz if you go around telling your friends "All I want is for him to be horrible, just a little bit, just some foul language or a casual plate thrown against the wall" they don't Sympathize, they just say "You should get help" and start asking probing questions about your past.



On my imagined life as a citizen of Jefferson County.
I
grew up knowing I was high class. I know it's not very Christian to compare myself to my neighbors this way, but it's hard not to notice that your home is the only double-wide in the park. What really set my family apart though, was a shameless status symbol we flaunted up on blocks in the front yard. Yes, the Moser family crown jewel: A rusting '88 camaro with velvet interior and maybe half an engine. It was a thing of beauty. I sometimes like to sit in it and imagine that I'm the queen of white trash, overlooking my trailer park kingdom.

~

I'm an adjunct professor at SLU. They don't pay me -yet- but I give daily lessons to the students there on white trash culture. Among other things, I try teach my students valuable life skills like h0w to wire a fuse box with pennies, or use a coupon, or pronounce the word "down" (day-own).
One girl I met, before I took her to on a little Jeffco field trip, thought that trailer parks were a myth... like, in her mind, werewolves, Santa Claus and trailer parks were on the same plane of existence. She's studying to be a surgeon, by the way.



On having rich friends
One thing I learned attending Saint Louis University is that people who pay 40,000$ for tuition then go shop at Nordstroms have money problems. Shocking. Cuz when I think of people having financial troubles, I think of people like myself, who order off the dollar menu and then steal all the hotsauce, not people drinking 10$ frappacinos with their vegan strudel. You really start to feel for them, though, because anytime you share a story about not being able to make a housing payment so you can keep yourself shacked up in the crappiest dorm on campus, they'll come back with something just as heart-wrenching, like how they blew the weekly allowance from their parents on an ipad yesterday and now they haven't got money left to buy weed for Saturday. Tragic.


__
So if you'd like to tell me all the reasons these are horribly unfunny and highly offensive concepts please comment!! ALSO If you happen to be a fan of things that are truly hilarious (and ESPECIALLY if you're an anime fan as well) you should stroll on over to my new blog-buddy's site right here http://havocmantis.blogspot.com/ -plot twist, not only are we blog buddies, but we are REAL LIFE BUDDIES. Our favorite bonding activity is doing naked improv comedy at gay bars. That's only barely an exaggeration.


~Alicen

This time, in honor of my blog buddy's distaste for haiku, I'll give you all a rhymey poem instead!

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Actually they're purple
Art is a lie

...well, I tried.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Little CO2 Emissions on the Prairie

Maybe it's just a Missouri thing, but it feels like no matter where I'm driving, if I'm on a highway I'm surrounded by those "Prairie Rehab" signs.
If you're unfamiliar, "Prairie Rehab" signs are just your average metallic, round-cornered road signs with the words "Prairie Rehab" deceptively printed on an earthy brown background. They are typically found where the grass has begun to reach human height, and often in mounds of dirt that are surrounded by interstate on all sides.

... So in other words, the Missouri translation of "Prairie Rehab" is: "We ain't trimming this $#!%". I imagine that when given their budget and faced with the choice between printing a metal sign and paying a friendly lawn-mowing person to make it look decent once a month, that official thought "eh, we'll go with the chunk of metal" and signed the order to slap'em up there.
Now, let's be real, Missouri. You CANNOT tell me you are going to call these grass-wads "rehabbed prairie" unless you have legitimate hopes that someday some wild buffalo will return to inhabit that 4foot patch of dirt and highway trash just inches from the interstate.
     -What's that? No highway buffalo, you say? -I suspected as much. Now just admit that you're too cheap and lazy to cut your own grass, and stop trying to pull the wool over our eyes with this phony "rehab" nonsense!

I think the idea of "Prairie Rehab" is that the city hopes we will see it, but not think about it too hard. Like, whatever city official put it up must have hoped that you would sorta glance at these signs from the corner of your eye, and then your subconscious would slowly begin to think "hey, my government gives out free rehab! I should go do my civic duty!" somehow without considering the fact that this rehab is for dirt, and not people. That official pictures you swelling with patriotic pride, and riding off into the sunset to finally start repaying your debts to society. You'll step out of your car after passing that "Prairie Rehab" sign and valiantly go... pay a tax.... or... stop smashing bottles on playgrounds....
Heck, I don't know what you do, I'm barely an adult.

(Personally, I harbor the secret hope that the government knows something we don't about the future of transportation, and in a few years, upon the advent of an age of teleportation, people will start going nuts about all the space wasted on parking lots and intersates, but the government will just whip around like "HA! WE'VE BEEN PREPARING THE PRAIRIELANDS FOR YEARS!!" and then there really WILL be buffalo on the interstate, and the previous paragraphs in this post will make me look very silly.
I think it's good to hold on to some faith in your governing body, even if it's based solely upon the fact that they may or may not be able to teleport at some unappointed time in the future.)

~Ali

My dog is fluffy
My kitty cat is snuggly
Those are not their names

Monday, February 3, 2014

Diamonds Are a Girl's Patriarchal Enemy

It's about time this blog stirred up a little controversy, so in the hopes that some neck-bearded "Red Pill" Redditor/ "Return of Kings" nutjob should stumble upon my humble blog I'd like to post some of my crazy bra-burning bodyhair-relishing feminist thoughts. This one is borrowed from something I wrote for class.

So today I was checking out people’s reaction to the Coca-cola ad shown at the Super-Bowl when I found this article http://happyplace.someecards.com/29052/5-things-you-should-at-least-pretend-to-know-today-february-3-2014 which introduced me to JCPenny’s “drunk tweets” during the Superbowl (the head of social media at JC Penny was actually texting with mittens on to promote their new Olympic Mittens, but check it out, they absolutely come off as intoxicated- Kia Motors asked if they wanted a designated driver. ha!)
Next I decided to visit the JC Penny twitter page myself in order to see the tweets, when I found this: https://twitter.com/jcpenney/status/430013553030881280/photo/1
Just in case that link doesn’t work/you have an irrational fear of twitter, that’s a picture advertising some diamond earrings with a tweet that says “You can throw these rocks at girls.” Edit: Of course, the day that I posted this, JCP Decided to take down the month-old ad
Okay, I realize that the US is not known for it's competency in international affairs, nor do I pretend to be especially literate in world goings-on, but I'd like to point out that it's only been THREE MONTHS since Afghanistan barely managed to keep public stoning as punishment for adultery from being reinstated as law (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/nov/28/stoning-not-brought-back-afghan-president-karzai )
 And it's attitudes like this that diminish that hard-won victory for women's rights/human rights.


Also, the target audience for this confuses me a bit. Like, JCP decided to use a joke about “throwing rocks at girls” to win the hearts of… 
I suppose the much sought after demographic of American men who follow dept. stores on twitter and are also devoted to following the letter of sharia law. 
Or maybe all the people out there who wish they could throw rocks at girls? 
People who find violence against women hilarious?

Perhaps they are simply responding to a recent influx of people messaging JCP and asking what types of rocks are okay to throw at women, and "Diamonds" was at once the most lucrative and least logical answer they could provide for such a ludacris question.
-Not to mention all the MEN with ear piercings being hatefully excluded from this diamond-throwing extravaganza (men as a gender group are SOOO persecuted- amirite, neck-beards?)

  Hard to believe that the mitten-texts made news, but their demented sense of humor hasn't.


~Alicen

Feminism is
a word for equalism
Just love everyone

Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Five People You Meet In Forest Park

The other day I went for an eight mile run. Directionally challenged as I am, this 8 mile run turned into a 9 mile trot turned into a 10 mile death-slog. But that's just two extra miles, who's counting, right? (the answer is my knees. My knees were loudly, angrily counting)
Anyway, this extra 20 minutes or so (don't judge me) of unplanned slogging afforded me the opportunity to do some people watching, which is something I often enjoy doing in Forest Park, despite seeing prettymuch the same people every time. (And of course I'm not talking about specific individuals, I'm talking about stereotypes, because I'm coarse and insensitive that way)

If you happen to be in Forest Park anytime soon, here's the friendly faces you should look for (actually, you shouldn't need to actively look, because you will be surrounded.

1. The Roller-Blader

Somehow, Forest Park seems to have become the motherland to a roller-blader revolution. And I'm not talking about kids, or even teenagers out messing around and having some 8-wheeled jollies, I mean full grown adults who regard this early 90's novelty with the utmost seriousness. One can't help but notice the hardcore rollerbladers as they glide down the bike path with fancy footwork preformed at dizzying speeds, their flailing arms swiping dangerously close to you at upwards of 15mph.
Another noteworthy fact about these enigmatic figures is that they only exist while in motion.You will never see one come to a stop (and I have no idea how they do it. Like, do you just kinda stop moving and wait, or...?) Nor will you ever witness one putting on or taking off their skates, nor waiting at a crosswalk, or skating to the bathroom, or doing any such "human" activity. However, if I DID catch one in such a state I'd have millions of questions: "How do you stop?/Have you ever stopped?" being the first, of course, but perhaps more importantly, questions like "Do you tell your friends that you're a hardcore roller-blader? Do you race, or... skate-dance or something? Are your skates from this decade? How many children and small animals have you unintentionally squashed?"
These are the questions that plague me.

2. The Watcher

As a female runner I have attracted a lot of unwanted male attention (I could omit "runner" from that sentence, but let's save being a creep magnet for another post). Typically this comes in the form of catcalls or rude gestures from people on the street or, most often, people passing by in cars. The park creeper, however, is an entirely different species, set apart from these commonplace creeps by his frigid silence and his palpable gaze. We call him The Watcher.
The watcher speaks not a word. He can usually be found inexplicably standing motionless beside an empty bench, covered in facial hair and holding a large, dirty bag. Even if he spots you first, you will be able to tell the moment his eyes are on you. Methodically, the watcher appraises your hair, then face, neck, shoulders, chest, torso, pelvis and so on until he's mentally violated every inch of your squirming uncomfortable body. As you pass the watcher (because your path will inevitable lead you to run within mere feet of him) you will wonder if you're about to spontaneously cumbust under the white hot intensity of his inappropriate stare. As you pass by you'll continue to feel his gaze sliding over your sweaty butt as if it were a fat sticky tentacle.
Ugh.

3. The Chatty Cross-Walker

Just as the Roller-Blader only exists in motion, the Chatty Cross-walker only exists while standing at a crosswalk, and only in the middle of a very intense, very important workout. It may be confusion / curiosity that spurs the cross-walker's rampage, or it may be loneliness, but whatever the case, the cross-walker sees you as a susceptible target for their barrage of unnecessary questions and pointless stories. The cross-walker somehow manages to attach themself to you like a superpowered magnet, rooting you to the crosswalk and entrapping you in their poisonous web of frivolity. Many a brave runner has watched their hard-won Personal Record perish in this cage of wasted words. Should a similar fate befall you... God rest your soul

4. The Baby 

The Baby lurks around every corner. Under every shady tree. Between every young married couple. Ever. The Baby lies in wait, preparing dangerous levels of brain-melting adorableness for whatever fool winds up caught in it's tractor-beam of cute. There is no way to avoid The Baby, nor any way to counter the googly-eyed, heartwarming, thought-dissolving effect The Baby will have on you. When encountering The Baby, your only option is to submit yourself to basking in it's glorious baby-ness and hope to God you'll be able to keep yourself from touching it's angelic, pudgy little face... because that's pretty creepy of you, man.

5. The Competitor

This person is probably using whatever mode of transportation you are. You will encounter them only when you are running/walking/biking/ice skating at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying the beauty that surrounds you, or perhaps the zoo animals, or the heartwarming sight of children on a swingset. Whatever the case, once you become lost in a sweet daydream brought on by the lovely environment of the park, The Competitor materializes just beside/behind/ahead of you.
The Competitor carries within them an aura which will rip you from your pleasant reverie and strike you with an instant, impossible hatred. As you gradually quicken your pace to match/surpass the competitor you will find yourself slowly consumed by an irresistible competitive urge. No matter how hard you try to ignore the competitor, and slip back into the land of bright green grass and singing birds; the competitor is always there, just a bit too close, watching you from their peripheries, goading you to fight them, race them, defeat them, DESTROY THEM
And you will probably kick their needlessly-competitive-attention-whoring butt, but as a result you'll get all sweaty and tired, and you'll probably end up running out in front of a car/person at an intersection and feel like a dweeb, and in your embarrassed confusion the competitor will pass you again and start the idiocy all over again...

~Alicen

Dumb red-light Camera
You're taking all my money
You are such a poop

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

A Bit of Perspective


I am nineteen years old. I’m in school. I live with my parents, and they pay my cell phone bill, among other things. I am terrified of the day that I will no longer be covered under their medical insurance.

A friend of mine is about 9 months pregnant. She expects the baby in just two and a half more weeks. Shit. That is horrifying. It’s utterly terrifying to me, that I can have peers who are married, engaged, expecting…That those things could concieveably happen to me

But she is so excited! She posts pictures of her ultrasounds and her baby bump. She can’t wait for her daughter Nevaeh to arrive, and she invites the world to join in her joyous expectation.

This isn’t about fear, or mistakes, or regret. This is about a new, innocent person. This is about something beautiful and precious. This is about humanity, and love that nests deep in the human soul. This is about life.

Someday I hope I'll be mature enough to see it that way.

~A


Two Serious posts
in a row! Sometimes I like
to just contemplate