I find that I am most active at night, so I often do not go to bed at a normal time. Because the jobs I have had didn't require me to get there early, I have never been forced to sleep at a decent hour. Don't even get me started on having morning classes. I don't even remember what my name is in the morning, so you can imagine how intelligent I am when I first wake up, so I avoid taking morning class.
I find that my mind is most active at night. I stay up late at night because if I try to sleep I end up thinking about all of my troubles., and start to get really stress out. I think I reflect a lot at night, so I tend to try to distract myself by watching something on my computer or reading or painting my nails.
I never understood how people who could go to bed at 10pm and wake up 7am in the morning. I guess it would make sense to sleep when the sun is down and wake up with the sun is up, but it's so hard for me. I honestly can't open my eyes most mornings. Maybe it's habit I should start to develop.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Snug as a Bug
I live in house that is somewhat big. It's not a huge house or anything, but we do have some spare rooms in our house. Because most of our house is empty, and we have tiled floors (Help me, I hate how terribly cold it gets!) our house is always COLD. I'm also convinced that it is not insulated because I can always feel a draft. (Maybe I have been a little too obsessed with the show, Property Brothers and am convinced that I know everything about homes now.)
The worst part is that we don't have a heater. It's usually as cold inside of the house as it is outside. Can you imagine my horror? We don't get the luxuries of having a heater because we are not well to do. Oh goodness gracious, I just want to sit in an oven to warm up.
I do have a solution/ritual I do each night though. Before bed I make sure to take a really hot shower, and then run to my bed. Once I am nice comfortable on my bed, I pile on tons of pillows and blankets where I end up making a fortress for myself. I found this to be the only solution to keeping myself warm.
Sometimes when it's too cold, I will wake up in the middle of night with cold feet and hands. I would then have to proceed to take a "mini shower" where I will just run hot water over my cold body parts for a few minutes until I'm warm again. It's terrible, but I make do.
I laugh thinking about the things I have to do during the winter, but I remember how much I love the tile floors during the summer. Which then explains my love of summer... it's just so much more tolerable living in my house during the summer. I'm just so envious of the people living in Hawaii where their weather is always warm.
The worst part is that we don't have a heater. It's usually as cold inside of the house as it is outside. Can you imagine my horror? We don't get the luxuries of having a heater because we are not well to do. Oh goodness gracious, I just want to sit in an oven to warm up.
I do have a solution/ritual I do each night though. Before bed I make sure to take a really hot shower, and then run to my bed. Once I am nice comfortable on my bed, I pile on tons of pillows and blankets where I end up making a fortress for myself. I found this to be the only solution to keeping myself warm.
Sometimes when it's too cold, I will wake up in the middle of night with cold feet and hands. I would then have to proceed to take a "mini shower" where I will just run hot water over my cold body parts for a few minutes until I'm warm again. It's terrible, but I make do.
I laugh thinking about the things I have to do during the winter, but I remember how much I love the tile floors during the summer. Which then explains my love of summer... it's just so much more tolerable living in my house during the summer. I'm just so envious of the people living in Hawaii where their weather is always warm.
Smells
Most of you know this, but I thought I'd share it again. When I was much younger (during high school), I worked at a movie theater for a year. I spent most of my time as a box office cashier, but I started off working at the concession and ushering.
It was a great high school job. I was working with my friends, I watched a ton (I think I watched everything that year) of movies, and it was an easy job. I still go to that theater to watch movies from this day. I love watching movies, and it's a;ways a treat for me.
As much as I didn't mind working there, I did leave traumatized by one thing... the smell of popcorn. I remember how terrible it smelled on a warm summer day or what it smelled like mixed with the smell of trash as I was cleaning theaters. I wasn't fond of popcorn even before I worked there, but it became so disgusting to me that I cringe whenever I smell it today. I actually get headaches when someone is eating popcorn next to me. I hate the smell that much. Don't even get me started on the taste... IT'S TASTELESS AND IT STICKS TO YOUR TEETH! Who would enjoy such things?!
As passionately as I hate the smell of popcorn, there is a smell I absolutely adore. I love the smell of fresh clean laundry. I love pulling my clothes out of the dryer while it's still warm and taking a big sniff. It's pure heaven.
To be specific, I love Tide the detergent. It is simply my favorite smell in the world, and I wish I could bottle it up as a perfume and lather it all over myself. I get excited to wash my sheets because there is no better feeling that sleeping on crisp clean sheets. Is it weird that I am obsessed with clean crisp sheets? Maybe crisp isn't the right word, but I love it when it's straight and taunt against be mattress. I hate when the sheets begin to pull away from the mattress, and it's a big sloppy mess. It's one of my simple joys in life... a clean bed.
Actually now that I think about it. I love the smell of clean things. I love the smell of dish soap, the lemony scent of soap I use to mop the floors, and body wash. Oh boy, why don't I just say that I like soap of all kinds?
I realize this is a random post, but I had to express how I am enjoying laying on my clean sheets. :)
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Perfectionist
I am not artistic in any way. I can't draw anything worth anything, but I decided to take a water coloring class this semester. I figured it'd be easy peasey, and that the teacher would grade me on effort. Isn't that how you grade art (how naive of me)?
I have been getting good grades for the last few years, and it was important to me to keep continuing that. I know I won't do well in every class I take, but I want to keep up my streak for as long as I could.
Half way through the semester, I was having anxiety about the class. What?! I am being graded on skill? What?! It's not always about effort? What?! I am not getting perfect grades? You can imagine my distress. The students in my class were art majors, and I definitely did not have their eye or skill for art. For a little while my life was over (dramatic much?), but I soon accepted it. I convinced myself the world wouldn't end. I would be fine.
My final painting turned out very well, and all that struggle during the semester paid off. I finally learned a little something. I finally understood glazing, salting, lifting, and all the other watercolor terms and techniques. I was finally happy about a painting I created.
And that led to the best part of art class... I got that A! :D
Monday, December 5, 2011
Looking Back
Most of you know that I'm generally happy and loud. I love everyone in my life, and I love talking to them. Put me in a different environment, and I am completely introverted. If someone wanted to talk to me, they would have to make the effort to talk to me. I'm not a mean person, I am just awkward.
A few years ago, I took a speech class. I remember dreading that class. I really did not want to make any speeches, and it gives me that terrible feeling that you would usually feel when something terrible is happening whenever I think about making a public speech.
I expected to hate the class, but I ended up loving it. Looking back, I know it's because I had a teacher that was very understanding and fun. She made speaking in front of the class painless, and I actually learned a lot about myself. I became a better communicator, and learned what was appropriate to say in different situations.
I am the type of person who looks up the reviews of teachers before I take the class, so I often get classes that aren't too terrible, but are also not too memorable. I usually never remember the teacher after I have completed the class, but I actually remember my speech teacher, and a lot of the conversations we had. (and believe me... not many teachers have inspired me.) Ms. Hondo was a brilliant teacher, and she took the time to ask me about my yoga class (she saw my mat) every week, we chatted about what we looked for in guys, and I can still hear her laugh.
A few months ago I found out she died, and I was horrified. She was barely 39, and had two daughters that she would always speak so lovingly of. I thought with time that I would be ok with it, but I never was. My art class is right next to her old classroom, and I used to peak in there to see if she was there before I found out about her death. (If you must know how she died, you can look up Kesha Hondo)
Someone else I was very fond of died a few years ago, and I am often sad thinking about how much of an impact they had on me, but how I don't think they ever knew it. Maybe I'm feeling especially sentimental right now. Every time I think of them, I say a little prayer.
A few years ago, I took a speech class. I remember dreading that class. I really did not want to make any speeches, and it gives me that terrible feeling that you would usually feel when something terrible is happening whenever I think about making a public speech.
I expected to hate the class, but I ended up loving it. Looking back, I know it's because I had a teacher that was very understanding and fun. She made speaking in front of the class painless, and I actually learned a lot about myself. I became a better communicator, and learned what was appropriate to say in different situations.
I am the type of person who looks up the reviews of teachers before I take the class, so I often get classes that aren't too terrible, but are also not too memorable. I usually never remember the teacher after I have completed the class, but I actually remember my speech teacher, and a lot of the conversations we had. (and believe me... not many teachers have inspired me.) Ms. Hondo was a brilliant teacher, and she took the time to ask me about my yoga class (she saw my mat) every week, we chatted about what we looked for in guys, and I can still hear her laugh.
A few months ago I found out she died, and I was horrified. She was barely 39, and had two daughters that she would always speak so lovingly of. I thought with time that I would be ok with it, but I never was. My art class is right next to her old classroom, and I used to peak in there to see if she was there before I found out about her death. (If you must know how she died, you can look up Kesha Hondo)
Someone else I was very fond of died a few years ago, and I am often sad thinking about how much of an impact they had on me, but how I don't think they ever knew it. Maybe I'm feeling especially sentimental right now. Every time I think of them, I say a little prayer.
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