In Defense of Those Who Drive as a Madman

People will say that I am a scary person to ride with.

That is totally not true.

What people don't understand is that I drive with purpose.

I drive to get from Point A to Point B with minimal distance in between.

Even when I'm not in a hurry, I strive to drive with purpose, because I don't want to be that person I'd yell at if I were trying to get somewhere.

Not that I yell at people. . .

Because I totally don't. . .

But I kinda view going slow(er than the rest of the traffic -- you may well be doing the speed limit, but hey, you're still going slow) as rude and selfish behavior. It's one thing if you're in the right lane.

That's where slower traffic belongs.

But if you're in the left lane, and you're riding even with traffic in the right lane, you're trapping everyone behind you.

Think about it.

Somebody could be going to a job interview.

Somebody could be trying to catch a flight.

Somebody could be going to a doctor's appointment.

Somebody might have to pee.

And for crying out loud, if your cell phone distracts you,

GET OFF OF IT.

This has been a PSA.

On Medical Conditions. . .

No, I haven't changed my mind and become a nursing major.

I'm still an English major.

Yet this is a unique merging of the two realms.

I don't know if any nurses or doctors have actually seen this, but I have, and it's terrifying enough to me.

And yes, this is sort of a grammar rant.

Alzheimer's Disease

I cannot count how many times I've heard this butchered. I know I have very little to stand on, because I butcher words all the time, but I can say that I've never said this particular word this badly. 

Y'all, it is not "All-timers" Disease.

There is not a T in "Alzheimer's".

There just isn't.

Stop putting it there.

Please.

Diabetes

Okay, I saw this on Tumblr, so there's no telling whether the poster was serious or just being funny, but "diabetes" is one word.

Just one.

It's not "die of beaties".

I realize it kind of sounds like that, but it's all together.

Lactose Intolerance

This one really takes the cake.

I'm not even really sure where that phrase comes from, but it's true.

I have seen this on Google searches.

On Facebook.

On Tumblr.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Granted, on Tumblr they all flipped out, but still.

People, this particular disorder where your body does not properly manufacture lactase and milk makes you gassy and nauseous is not "lack toast and tolerant".

I kid you not.

A "lack toast and tolerant" disorder means that you lack charred bread slices and are a very understanding person and for some reason you are not happy about this state of affairs.

But yeah.

This has been a PSA.

Ugh . . . Morning Classes . . .

I'm sure I've ranted about morning classes before.

And there may be a day when I don't rant about morning classes.

But, in all seriousness, scheduling classes is a bloomin' nightmare.

You've gotta make sure nothing overlaps in time slots.

You've gotta make sure you actually need it.

You've gotta make sure you've got time to do the whole "lunch" thing, which -though seriously underrated - is vital to not passing out in class. From hunger.

And - for USCB students anyhow - you've gotta make sure you're not giving yourself 10 minutes to make a 30 minute trip, as we have two campuses. 

But then there's the 8 AM classes.

Also known as "the room you sit in whilst you wake up mentally".

Unless it's Crossfit aerobics, which will kick your studious tush.

I've taken 8 AM classes before, but only two days a week, so you have the next day to sleep in and recover.

This semester, I've got my first two Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes.

And all five days . . . I have 8 AM classes.

Why?

Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

And you know what the worst of it is?

Waking up three minutes before my alarm goes off.

A Realistic Self-Image

I'm sure a lot of us made New Year's Resolutions to lose some extra pounds.

I know I did.

But what do we really want?

To have a smaller number on the scale (which nobody knows but us), or to look slimmer?

If I were to be honest . . . it would have been the latter last year.

But not this year.

What changed?

My self-image.

How I see myself has changed, and for the better.

This is really hard to do, and took a while for me, but it's worth it.

And pretty simple. 

Skinny does not necessarily equal healthy.

For some, it might, but not for everyone.

For years, I thought I'd have to be skinny to be healthy, or pretty, or anything, but now I see that's not the case.

Now, I'm not one to get my advice from Hollywood, but I kinda like Jennifer Lawrence as a person (and no, I haven't seen the Hunger Games, nor do I plan to).

This quote is from Pinterest, so if it's not really her, sorry, but it sounds like something she'd say. 

In Hollywood, I’m obese. I’m considered a fat actress. I’m never going to starve myself for a part. I keep waiting for that one role to come along that scares me enough into dieting, and it just can’t happen. I’m invincible. I don’t want little girls to be like, ‘Oh, I want to look like Katniss, so I’m going to skip dinner.’ That’s something that I was really conscious of during training. I was trying to get my body to look fit and strong, not thin and underfed.

Now that is a good mindset.

But think about it.

How many models, actresses, and normal girls look like they haven't eaten in days?

Too many, I think.

Seems like everyone thinks it's cooler to be thin.

Don't get me wrong; it's not bad to be thin - it's just . . . well, a bit overrated.

It would probably surprise you to learn that less than a hundred years ago, curvy girls were considered "more beautiful".

That's not entirely correct either, but do you know what makes everyone change their minds?

The media.

All of it.

Ever see some of those "plus size" models?

Ever notice how they look . . . well, normal?

Since when was that not attractive?

Since when was that weird?

Since when did preteen girls care about how many calories they had?

To say it's only the media's portrayal of weight and obesity would be a lie, but I'm only trying to make one point here, and you have to admit that that's certainly a large part of it.

Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is that even if you do lose all the weight you said you would, and even if you do fit into your high school jeans again . . . will you really, honestly be happy with yourself? Or will you never be slim enough or light enough?

God made you as you are for a reason.

Heck, maybe you're the way you are just to encourage someone like you who may struggle with the same thing. You never know.

And while you may not like it now, He does, and He doesn't make mistakes, nor is He ever mistaken.

I once heard someone (I think Chip Ingram, but I'm not sure) say that the trick is you have to think of yourself correctly: you shouldn't think of yourself too highly, but you shouldn't think of yourself too lowly, either.

Thinking of yourself too highly results in pride, arrogance, and a general sense of annoyance to everyone around you.

Thinking of yourself too lowly results in depression, bitterness, and a lack of joy, which will be felt by everyone you're around, believe me.

Thinking accurately about yourself allows you to 1) see what areas might need improvement and 2) see what's genuinely great about yourself.

So no, you may never fit into that size you wanted, or see the number you wanted when you step on the scale, or get picture perfect skin, or have hair that actually does what you want it to, but you're still made in the image of God, and as long as you're taking care of your temple, you're beautiful, even when you don't feel like you are.

{at} and {dot}

This is a rant.

I'm sorry.

This is not meant to pick on anyone who does this, either; I promise.

Ever see those people who put their addresses like this?

dorkyaddressimadewheniwas9 {at} whatevsmail {dot} com

Um . . . 

It's 2013 . . . I think people know what an email address is formatted like. . .

It's kinda like the messages people put on their answering machines. 

Not the cute and funny ones like "Have a blessed day" or "I'm likely babysitting", but the actual instructions. 

We know to leave a message and not a cake recipe, thank you. . .

I dunno. . .

Sometimes stuff like this just makes me laugh.

And sometimes it peeves me. 

I mean, if you want someone to email you, make a form or link it. 

Don't write it in hieroglyphics.

Because hieroglyphs are hard.

The Day After the End of the World . . . and Walmart

So the world didn't explode, or melt, or swarm with Flood or zombies, or viruses, or have the animals go cray cray.

Hm. Fancy that.

Well, for those of us over the age of 13, we've survived the "End of the World" twice:

Y2K and 12/21/12

Yay us!

Our kids will never believe us . . .

On a similar note, what the heck is up with Walmart registers never being open when you need them?

I'm not dissing Wally World or anything, I'm just asking.

I mean, wouldn't that drive down your customer loyalty?

But come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen any retail store with all their registers open.

That should change.

I mean, really.

Who wants their customers to stand in line for 20 minutes holding a heavy box of firewood?

I wouldn't.

Let me drive this bus a while . . .

Fool me once . . .

Okay Beaufort girlies, listen up: I don't know where you do your shoe shopping, and on some level I don't really care, but I've got to tell you about this one store (which is kind of ironic, because I don't plan on actually naming this store). 

There's this store in Beaufort that has really cute shoes. And at good prices, too.

No, it's not Wal-Mart.

However, something weird happened the last two times I was there, probably within the same two weeks.

Allow me to start at the beginning: I wanted some brown flats, so when I saw a cute pair, I got the box that said 9 down because I (usually) wear a 9.

I tried both the shoes on, and they both fit.

That would be a given, except for one small factoid: one was a 9, the other was an 8 1/2. 

And my feet are normal, by the way. 

I put the bottoms together, and they looked exactly the same to me.

I figured the 8 1/2 was a misprint and took the box to the register to check out. 

They wouldn't sell it to me because (logically) if I had two sizes, somebody else had two sizes, and if they returned one, they'd need the other.

I ended up leaving with 8 1/2's (which fit perfectly fine), and thought it was a freak occurrence. 

Wrong. 

I went today for some black flats and wanted a 9. 

Once again, there was a 9 and an 8 1/2!

And once again, I ended up leaving with an 8 1/2!

So, for those of y'all in Beaufort . . . check your shoes before you buy them!

(Also because they might be two different - but similar - styles. That's happened to me before too. And yes, that was at Wal-Mart.)

Bipolar Beaufort Weather

I don't know about the rest of the country, but isn't it a pretty good rule of thumb that when it's cold in the morning, it'll still be cold in the afternoon?

Doesn't that help you dress appropriately for the day?

Beaufort isn't like that.

I think Beaufort's a woman, and she's bipolar. 

It was like, 60 degrees this morning, so I wore a knitted wool top, a scarf (more for the astetics than weather), and sneakers. 

Um . . . 

Lo and behold, at noon, it's about 85 degrees.

. . . What?!

Grammar Rant

Okay, I know I have peeves.
I'm sorry.
Eh . . .
Nope. No, no I'm not.
As an English major, I suppose I'm entitled to be snobby about this, but I really, honestly try very hard not to be a grammar snob.
And most times, I'm not.
I'm a grammar nazi.
It's horrible, I know, as even I use deplorable grammar at times.
I'm actually really picky about exactly what gets me peeved.
For instance, if I'm texting or IMimg, I couldn't care less if you didn't capitalize, use correct grammar or what have you.
But in an email . . . you had better use it all correctly.
In spoken conversations, I don't care.
But Facebook . . .
Oh gosh, don't get me started . . .
Okay, so "your" and "you're" ARE different!! I promise! They are!
"Too", "to", and "two" are different. Really.
And when you're talking about more than one of something . . . there's no apostrophe.
Like, if you're talking about . . . say . . . Scottish Folds . . . It's "Scottish Folds" - not "Scottish Fold's".
*sigh*
Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . .
Or, I could just leave Facebook as its own thing and not worry about it.
Nope.
Too easy . . .