Kids

Instead of studying tonight, I started blog surfing. It seems that most blogs out there are for families to post pictures of their kids on, and especially for people who've just had babies. Strangely enough, I've come across a lot of blogs about people who are infertile. It doesn't seem like something I'd blog about, but whatever floats your boat. Oh, and along with the baby blogs, it seems like all the other ones are Asian teenagers, mostly girls.

I am not a part of any of these qualifiers. Should I stop blogging?...

At any rate, I've learned a few things.

One of my biggest fears is that I'll have ugly kids. Qualities I hope my children don't have:

1) Razor teeth. Some kids just look like they could rip you to shreds and eat you alive. Those kids scare the crap out of me.

2) Big heads. Some kids have the most gigantic heads! And tiny little bodies. It's just not right.

3) As a subset of 2, I hope my babies don't have weirdly shaped heads. Some babies have the sideways cone head, or gigantic protruding foreheads...this one isn't as important cuz some kids grow out of that, but...yeah.

Ok so maybe I'm a little harsh. I just want cute kids. It's kind of a crapshoot, really. Some of the most beautiful people I know have the ugliest kids, and vice versa.

And I'm pretty sure I'm just saying things that all of you are thinking, you just don't want to say. But that's what I'm good at.

Secret #2

Fact 1: I live in a town house, and it has 3 levels. Heating this thing is a nightmare. The top floor gets really hot, the middle floor is pretty cold, and the basement is freezing. I've complained to myself about how much it costs to heat this place for awhile, as well as the fact that I don't get to use my winter quilt because it gets really hot upstairs.

Fact 2: My apartment has 3 bathrooms. One on the main floor, and 2 that connect to the bedrooms upstairs.

The connection I made between the two today: I may have complained about how it's hot upstairs, but it's so much better to sit down on a warm toilet seat than a freezing cold one, especially when you just come in from the cold.

Get to the chopper!

Somehow my old job has managed to remove me as an author on their blog, but still hasn't terminated me.

I really couldn't care less except for the fact that it makes it so I can't see my time card for my new job, which is really getting old. So, if you work at the Math Lab, give someone a hard time for me about not terminating me yet. It can be your Christmas present to me.

Happy Holidays.

Secret #1

This is the beginning of an experiment. Sometimes I just don't know what to write, but I really want to write. I have a friend who has "confessions" on her blog, so I've decided to do secrets of my own. While I can't promise any of them will be juicy, or used to blackmail me, or even interesting, maybe you'll glean just a small part of who I am from it. So, here goes.

Secret #1

I've never cried in a movie.

I don't plan on it ever happening, either.

I've never cried during a play, concert, or any other activity of that sort.

It's not that I'm a heartless rock, although I have considered the possibility. Perhaps I can realize the fact that the characters in the movie are usually fictional. I'm not really sure what it is.

And there you have it. My first secret.

Don't touch that door.

I'm not a feminist by any stretch of the imagination.

But sometimes, I just want to open my own door.

Is that bad?

A Bathroom Saga

[flush]

I wash my hands.

I go to dry my hands off.

I reach for the towel, and watch as it knocks a roll of toilet paper off the top of the toilet and head right for the waiting toilet bowl.**

Do you ever see something happening, but do nothing about it because you know that even though you are watching it happen right before your eyes, your reflexes just aren't fast enough to keep it from happening?

Welcome to my life.

**Note: luckily, roll of toilet paper hits edge of toilet seat just right and lands on floor. Phew.

Wait...what?

It's funny, the misconceptions we have as children.

I've discussed this with a few people lately, and I'd like to share my findings.

This all started when I thought about the things that I always thought were characteristics of every family simply because it was how it was in my family. For example:

-I thought that the Dad was always older than the Mom.

-I thought that while the Dad was older than the Mom, your parents were still the same age.

Why did I think these things? Because that's how my parents are. My Dad is only a few months older than my Mom. When I found out that some people's parents were different ages, and especially when I found out that their Mom was older than their Dad, it really freaked me out. Even to this day, it's hard for me to fathom marrying a man younger than me. The age difference thing has lost its potency to me, but only because I've always dated guys who were older than I am.

I was discussing this with a coworker the other day and he told me about an experience he'd had as a child. Growing up in a Mormon family, it was always understood that you didn't play outside on Sunday. You just didn't do it. Apparently, one Sunday his neighbors were out playing in their yard. And bless his little heart, Michael went outside and reprimanded them, because that's what he had always known.

Along the same vein (vane? not sure which it is), it's always funny to watch movies not made for children (I'd originally put "adult movies" and decided that might not be the best descriptor...) that I watched as a child. I realize now how much I didn't get back then. And strangely, there's some stuff I still don't get just because I didn't get it as a child. The movie Mission: Impossible still baffles me a little bit, because I just didn't really know what was going on when I watched it as a child. There are a lot of movies like that.

I think that's all I have. I'm sitting in the library, putting off the paper I have to write and test I need to study for. I'm sitting in the loudest part of the library, but I'm here because there are comfy chairs. The chairs are worth the prices paid: loud people, and I'm by these huge windows, which means I'm freezing cold. But at least I'm comfortable. That's what's important.

On Thanksgiving

I can tell it's about Thanksgiving time.

How?

It's not the Christmas decorations filling every store and building on campus.

It's not the Christmas music played by all my coworkers.

It's not the changing of the seasons from Fall to Winter.

It's not the falling leaves all around, or the frosty mornings, or the occasional snow fall.

It's not the irresistible urge to gorge myself on turkey, potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberries, corn, and pumpkin pie.

It's not the cornucopia of activities available for me to do (that was a play on words: double meaning right there).

It's not the ending of the Football season, nor the start of Basketball season.

It's the fact that I can't seem to bring myself to do any homework at all.

The BFG

Whenever I walk on campus, I see people who are shorter than me. Being nearly 6 feet tall, this isn't hard for me. However, sometimes I'll see those girls (usually) who are practically 5 foot nothing, and whenever I do, I always think,

"Man, that girl is so small!!"

Then today I realized: I wonder if when those girls see me, they think,

"Man, that girl is gigantic!!"

I wouldn't be offended if they did--it's true.

Touch me!

I think I have a curse.

Something about me attracts couples. That alone could be bad enough, but these are always couples who just can't seem to keep their hands off of each other. I really am a bit baffled as to why and how these people seem to find their way to me.

For example, on Halloween I went to a friend's party. There were not very many couples there--maybe one or two. At least one. How do I know? There were probably 50 party-goers crammed in a living room about 15 feet by 10 feet, if that. Because there were so many of us in such a small room, pretty much everyone was touching a different person on all sides, which meant none of us could really move much. For some reason, I managed to end up having an entire half of my body being taken up by this couple determined to essentially grind on each other...and in turn, on me. So, as was natural, I moved. Don't worry, they found their way back to me! This happened probably a good 3 or 4 times.

Maybe I just naturally ooze pheromones that only affect those already in a relationship? Perhaps this pheromone of mine heightens the high of their already raging hormones. It remains a mystery.

Either way, as I said the other night, I just make people want to touch each other. I didn't ask for it. But I'm trying to find a way to make it work to my advantage...if you think of anything, let me know.