A Pair Of Dull Scissors and The Yellow Light.

New Year's Resolutions:
=>> Cut back on caffiene. (This one's probably already broken, depending on what you consider "cutting back," especially because I'm sipping my latte at present. Vague resolutions are the worst kind.)
=>> Work out twice a week. (Hopefully, my body stays vicious, too, Fergie.)
=>> Accept the fact that I can't constantly please everyone. (However, this doesn't mean I'll give up trying!)
=>> Four steps to stress relief: Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let it go. (Man, I think I'm born to win. Me, Broke? That's an oxymoron.)

There's an interesting situation at my place of work. When I came back to work over Thanksgiving break, I got a semi-large schpeel from my boss where he told me not to transfer out of engineering, because I can do whatever I want in engineering. Wanna know what's ironic about that? I had applied three days earlier to transfer into a different college at the U. Did I have the heart to tell him that I transferred into Genetics (aka: far, far away from engineering)? Nope, I stuck it out and lied my ass off. I think that I may continue to lie and pretend to be an aspiring Biomedical Engineer. I'll only have to lie until the end of next summer (I mean "next" like 2008).

So, I picked up that Rhetoric class. I am very VERY excited for it (though I have heard the teacher is very difficult). Here's the class description: "How discourse reproduces consciousness and persuades us to accept that consciousness and the power supporting it. Literary language, advertising, electronic media; film, visual and musical arts, built environment and performance. Techniques for analyzing language, material culture, and performance."

Anyway, the exciting part is that among the books we're reading is "Memoir Of No One In Particular." While this may mean nothing to you, I read the summary of the story, and it sounds like my life (if I were paperback-bound... actually I kind of am paperback-bound...). It talks about this man, and about how his teenage diaries were selfish rantings about himself, but if you looked closer, they were also commentaries on the social structure of the time. By examining himself, he was, in turn, commenting on social issues and modern culture. Wow, could I be more of a nerd?

Apparantly, I could not. While I was lounging around yesterday with some friends/lovers/etc, I started talking about how I spent an entire day reading about starting and maintaining aquariums. Do I own an aquarium? No. My thirst for completely useless knowledge makes me a nerd in the most quintessential form of the word. (Plus, I actually use unnecessarily large words like "quintessential" in everyday writing. Who does that?)

I do wish that I could control what I remember... like you can delete useless things on your computer. What would I wipe out, though? The lyrics to every N*Sync/Spice Girls/BBMak(<<=LOVE) song in existence? Probably not. You never really know when you'll need this sort of thing. The (literally) millions of Friends/OC/The West Wing/Grey's Anatomy/Will and Grace (etc) quotes stored up there somewhere? No. In fact, I would sooner delete the useful information. I think that the "useless" things you know (sports stats, art history, The Fray lyrics, etc) are actually what make you a semi-unique being.

One thing that I would like to document is the fact that three days ago (12/30/2006), my mother actually told me that I looked nice. Aka, there is nothing that she would have changed about my clothes, scarf, HAIR, shoes, or dirty, scruffiness. While she has told me this before, it was because she had forced me through several outfit changes. I actually asked for this in writing (and she didn't retract her statement).

Until next time, lovely munchkins.
Kisses.

PS: You are my sweetest downfall.
PPS: Been a change in plans, rip your old plan up