Sunflowers Are Creepy.

The other day, Roommate and I were walking and I saw some withering sunflowers. I thought I would tell her something I've never told anyone before: I think sunflowers are scary. She laughed at me, but this is no joke.

Sunfreak

They are so huge, they might as well not even be a flower. They're practically mutants. Look at the freakishness of their stalks! And the flower part is bigger than my head. That's just not right. Every time I pass a sunflower, I think about it coming to life and grabbing me with its huge leaf-hands. Then I realize that sunflowers are, in fact, alive and I wonder what it may be thinking about me.

Don't even get me started on the little hairy fibers all over it, either. That shit creeps me out.

Daisies are nice, and so are dandelions. Why can't we all just forget about sunflowers and stick to daisies and dandelions? They're basically the same thing, just smaller and less horrifying. What good do sunflowers really do for the earth anyway?

Nothing, except frighten me and possibly some small children.

Two Moderately Important Things.

Well, actually, I think they're pretty damn important, but I'm not you, so I don't know how important this post is to you. I hope for moderate, at the very least. Anyway, on to the topics of pertinence.

1. Mumford & Sons



This song has been playing nonstop on my iPod for about a week now. I don't know how much you guys like Folk music, but this is pretty phenomenal nonetheless. Even if you don't like the genre, give this a try. At least marvel at the lead singer's ability to play the guitar, sing, and do percussion at the same time.

I love them! Their album is called "Sigh No More" and it's wonderful. I thought my Musician Friend would like this. Everyone should check her out too. Her link is on the right, called "I Guess This Is Good Stuff." She's just being modest, I swear.

2. “Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again – the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world’s greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding.” ~Saul Williams

Right? I honestly don't think it could have been said any better than that. This man should be knighted. Sir Saul Williams, the man who put kissing into words. I've been trying to do just that for years until I finally gave up, believing it to be an impossible task. Turns out it's not; you just have to be Saul Williams in order to do it properly.

Two food holes. Also, I think they're both female food holes.

Could you imagine life without kisses? First, take a moment to think about the fundamentals of kissing and just how weird it is. You're putting your food hole on someone else's food hole and occasionally exchanging digestive fluids and maybe touching taste buds. Gross, right?


So why does it feel so good? Why does it incite so many different emotions and floods of hormones? Whose idea was it to kiss for the first time? How are some people so much better at it than others?


There are so many unspoken rules and regulations involved in kissing and other such activities that blow my mind. I feel like I should study this instead of MAT 130. Yes, this definitely needs my attention much more than baby math.


As you can see, I've put much thought into this. Please feel free to comment with your answers to these questions.

Raisins Have Such A Silly Texture

Last week I bought some raisins to add to my collection of dorm-room snacks. This purchase really made me feel better about myself, considering the contents of my snack bin. Also, I remember raisins being a particularly yummy lunchtime treat.

I don't think I remembered correctly. I put a raisin in my mouth last night and literally giggled because it felt so weird to eat a raisin. Chewing it was very interesting because it was much too big to swallow, not the right texture to suck on, and way too small to chew correctly. After about three or four raisins, I put the box away and substituted them for BBQ chips. Eh, I tried.

Also, Jumanji is probably one of the best family films ever made. I know this because Robin Williams is in it, it wasn't RV, and it's basically a roller-coaster of emotion. Fuck RV.

Yesterday, I bought a pretty sweet jacket for $12. I now currently have $11.50 to my name. Excellent.

I've been listening to a lot of Seabird today. They're pretty awesome and you should check them out if you can. Click here and listen to Rescue and then Stronger. Both amazing songs. God, I love music.

Anyway, tonight I'm going watch House and then eat a bunch and then stay up late playing Frontierville on Facebook. I'm so cool, right?

Fuck Marching Bands.

At approximately 6 AM, I was so rudely awakened by some marching bands playing in the football field across the street from my dorm room. Yeah, I was upset that they started so early. How inconsiderate! But the anger I felt this morning is nothing compared to the frustration I am feeling now, fourteen hours later. Why is this happening to me?! 

Marching band competitions should be held at some other college where the football field is a safe distance away from every single living soul that may ever want to sleep or otherwise not go insane. They sound amazing most of the time, but I still feel like this is the seventh circle of Hell.

Also, Roommate almost died today. This morning, after This Guy got here, Roommate began to feel these horrible chest pains that lasted well over a half an hour before she asked This Guy for a ride to an urgent care center.

Yeah, I was worried, but I was also just really glad to get away from those damn marching bands.

In the car on the way to the doctor, I kept imagining Roommate suddenly having a fitful seizure in the back seat and I wouldn't know what to do about it. In the waiting room, I kept asking This Guy, "What if she's, like, terminally ill and I have to take care of her?" or "What if she has heart cancer?" I'm pretty certain there's no such thing as heart cancer.

Anyway, she's not dying. She has some weird inflammation of the cartilage between her rib cage and her sternum that's causing her to hurt when she breathes. God, no thank you. Breathing is nice and I would prefer it didn't hurt. Apparently, the only cure is approximately 6,000 Advil daily. She'll be cool.

After Roommate finished scaring me, This Guy and I went to the movies to see Paranormal Activity 2, which was amazing. Then we went to McAlister's and had a delicious meal before he had to traverse across a billion miles to get back home tonight.

In short: Saved Roommate's life, saw Paranormal Activity 2, ate a giant baked potato stuffed with chili, pouted, became murderous with rage at the marching bands that are STILL PLAYING AT 9:30 PM.

- Christa

P.S. How to Train Your Dragon is a wonderful movie.

EDIT: The bands finally stopped at midnight. Beautiful.

The Fucking Miracle Known As The Human Body.

Earlier, I had what I thought was an epiphany.

What do blind people's dreams look like?!

I thought this was a unique and interesting idea, until Roommate Googled it. Turns out, tons of people have had the same inquiry.

I guess it depends on the person and how long they've been blind. Someone who has acquired blindness will still dream visually. People and places will look as they remember them and new people will look what they imagine them to look like. But apparently, people who were born blind will have fucking auditory dreams.

Take a moment to take that in. Auditory dreams. As if normal dreams weren't strange enough. Dreams that only makes sounds must be the most horrible products of a person's imagination ever. Imagine, for a moment, an auditory wet dream. Boring.

Now consider an auditory nightmare. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around the kind of terror that these mutant dreams must bring to someone. Imagine only being able to hear the monster breathing and taunting you, but you'll never know how close it is to you. Think about only being able to hear your mother screaming for your help and begging to be released, but you have no idea where she is or what's being done to her. Fuck that. If I were blind, I'm pretty sure I'd never sleep.

After Roommate and I finished talking about the horrible nature of blind-people-dreams, we had a conversation about the incredible force of nature that is the human mind. We usually have very serious conversations like this about the human body and they usually start the same way. Here are a few examples of our genius findings:

Today.
Me: "Isn't it crazy how we can close our eyes and still see things without our eyes? Like, that's all our fucking brains."

Roommate: "Yeah! Like, I can close my eyes right now and I can still see you. Crazy."

Couple months ago.
Roommate: "Isn't it crazy how babies grow? Like, that child was an egg and a sperm cell at some point and now it's a tiny human."

Me: "I know! And eventually that tiny human will learn to walk and talk and eat by itself and then it will be a real person."

Like, three days ago.
Roommate: "Isn't it crazy that, like, everything we've ever thought about is stored in our brains?"

Me: "Uh huuuuuh. Like, even the things that we can't remember are still there. Everything we've ever witnessed is in our minds, but we just can't access them."

Shit's crazy.

- Christa

Grey's Anatomy Is Way Too Sexy.

I mean "too" in the sense of abundance. Grey's Anatomy is abundantly sexy. I don't mean "too" as in "to the extent of being superfluously sexy." That is impossible, I'd imagine.

In tonight's episode, Meredith managed to perform an emergency brain surgery on a poor, unsuspecting woman. As she was nearing the end of the surgery, Derek walked in and was fucking beaming with pride. This is kind of how their conversation went:

Meredith: "It's okay, Derek, I have it under control."

Derek: "Yes, you do."

But this is what I heard:

Meredith: "Look at me, Daddi. Aren't I just your hot little surgeon?"

Derek: "Yes, you are. You're gonna get some sweet, emergency brain surgery sex tonight!"

Also, Roommate has this bad habit of taking key words of my sentences and repeating them back to me all distorted and in a mocking voice. For instance:

Me: "Way to go, Christina. Now you're pissing people off."

Roommate: "Way to go Flistiiiiiina!"

And also, she likes to fake vomit a lot. She's a real gem.

- Christa

I Should Study for My Test. Also, I'm Not Entirely Sure I Should Be Using this Computer.

People always trash-talk blogs. There could be a countless number of reasons why that is, and maybe they're entirely correct in thinking blogs are a waste of time. However, I imagine that if I were ever to get into a conversation with someone who thought they were infinitely better than another person because they have better things to do with their time than to read and write blogs, I would simply agree with them. Yeah, I don't have anything better to do than read blogs. What of it? I fucking like blogs. Whatever. This person probably never believed in Santa Clause either.

I keep looking behind me suspiciously because I'm using a computer that is randomly set up in the hallway of one of my lecture halls. I was able to log on and there's no one around, so I'm assuming I won't get into trouble for using this computer for non-scholastic purposes. Every time someone passes by, I try to "play it cool," but I think my brief moment of panic when I hear someone walk down the hall in my direction is entirely readable on my face, probably even by someone who is blind. Also, the vending machines behind me keep making strange noises that cause me to jump and turn my head at a ferocious speed. Each time, still a vending machine.

Anyway, every successful blog I've ever read seems to have some sort of central theme or purpose. Truth is, I'm not sure what this one's purpose is yet. Right now it will most likely serve as another form of communication with This Guy. He's my boyfriend. Anyway, we live a billion miles apart because I thought school would be doubly fun if I put as many miles between us as possible. (I was terribly mistaken. Fuck miles.)

Every time something worth telling This Guy occurs, I am never really able to tell him on the phone, usually because I either forget about it by the time we talk or because I am completely overcome with laughter and cannot form the words required to have a comprehensible conversation with someone. This is usually what happens, almost daily.

Step #1. Roommate and I have a hilarious moment in which we either said something terribly stupid, made fun of someone to the point of cruelty, or one of us suffered a physical blunder.

Step #2. Roommate and I laugh hysterically and are barely able to compose ourselves hours later.

Step #3. This Guy calls me after work or school, eager to talk to me about what a wonderful day I had, including every single, solitary moment that Roommate and I have shared.

Step #4. This Guy gets really frustrated with my fits of laughter and the six approximate "words" I have managed to squeeze out between them. The story has then lost all of its comedy and he no longer cares to hear about it.

Damn vending machines.

I'm pretty certain now that I shouldn't be using this computer for blogging. People are starting to look at me weird.


Also, I should probably study.

I'll work on finding a purpose for this blog that is better suited for the general public, although the antics of Roommate and I are pretty fucking funny.

- Christa