This is why it's "This is Why"

If you’ve ever looked at my blog, which I am assuming so, then you’ve noticed my super girly, super stupid banner at the top. I will be the first to whole-heartedly admit that it’s not the cleverest of all my ideas and neither was the title of my blog. I keep it up there because it makes me flat out laugh. I was trying to be artsy and in my failed endeavors, I couldn’t get the timer to be just perfect for the shot I had in mind. So instead I ended up with me walking to the middle of nowhere and you see a table and possibly the barbeque pit. And for some reason I find that so dumb that it makes me laugh; and I hope in its duration it has made you laugh when you really think about it. Because this is not a beauty blog, nor is it a super serious one. I just like being ridiculous sometimes.

Which brings me to why my blog is named “This is Why.” I found that in general I say that phrase a lot. And I know that the cardinal rule of blog writing is to make a name so memorable that a simple Google search will only pop up your masterpiece, but I wasn’t having it. I’m proud of my blog even though it’s stupid or dramatic at times and that’s what I wanted to name it. And so it shall remain as such. That absurd banner, on the other hand, will change.

I have found that in life we all do things that have no reason or rhyme; yet they make us who we are. Just the other day I came up with a new face that I make with my brother. To most people we look like fools. We don’t care. We still make it in public and show the world how weird we are because everyone’s weird. Who really cares if you’re more up front about it?

I know that after my lame-o post last week everyone wants a funny one making fun of celebrities, but I’m not quite back to that. Perhaps next week will yield a great one. I’ve had one in mind for weeks about why fancy ketchup is fancy. It’s complete with a King Fancy and everything. The world isn’t ready for that stroke of genius, however. The world is most definitely ready for this, though:

This is why I transferred

In case this wasn’t obvious, or you just flat out didn’t know, I’ve transferred schools recently. The university I was previously attending versus the school I’m currently at are two completely different experiences. Yet everyone keeps asking how I like the current one and if I like it better. Look, I don’t know. I should’ve anticipated being asked that. I guess I could’ve just never said I’m a transfer student, except people would’ve thought I was really stupid, being a junior and not knowing where anything is.

It’s really awkward when people ask me if I like it better. First of all, the two schools are like apples and oranges. Secondly, I feel obligated to say I like the second better because I made the decision to transfer. But it’s not the school’s that are different. It’s me that’s different. If you asked me when I started college if I would have ever transferred I would’ve said no. Then life got in the way and I had to do what was best for me. So I just want people to keep in mind that if a person transfers it’s not because “I was failing out.” That didn’t happen at all. In fact I did really well academically at my first school.

So why did I transfer? Long story short, I wasn't happy. Again, it wasn't the school, it was the circumstances. It was the time and place. I could've been anywhere in the world in that year and some-odd months and I would've been blatantly miserable. I needed time and perspective to figure out life. So I transferred as a sort of restart or fresh beginning. I know that won't make sense to most people, but it's the way it is. And did I figure out life? No, but at least I'm way less miserable. 

I've been busy still trying to get adjusted and so that's why my posts have been hit or miss. Thank you to everyone who has continued to support my writing aspirations as well as my school choices. To reward you for being loyal, here's a GIF of creepy horse, Secretariat, from the Late Late Show.  

This is why I can't (or shouldn't) read

Don’t let the title mislead you. I love to read. So you would think this would start by me saying that I delve into a book any chance I get; and while I consider myself a bookworm, it just takes a lot to get me to commit to reading a book. Why? Because I get so emotionally wrapped up in the characters and the plots that you would think finishing a story is life and death. And in a way it is. Reading a decent book takes a lot out of me. God forbid it’s actually an amazing book and I’m covered in a pool of tears by the end.

Like so many other people, I become the character. I am the protagonist. I live where they live, I do what they do, I eat what they eat. Literally. I remember reading The Lovely Bones before I knew they were going to make a trippy movie out of it and the character drinks lime Kool-Aid at one point. I made a batch that night. This applies to virtually any book I put all my focus into. Except odd ones, like Catcher in the Rye. Not saying it wasn’t a good book I just wanted to slap and verbally attack Holden, the main character, the entire time.

I encourage people to read anything, except when you’re at the literary mercy of the author. To most, being a victim to a really brilliant novel would be a good thing. I see it as a form of warfare tactics involving torture. But then again I cry at anything, which I’ve probably mentioned before. So it’s a shame, but I won’t be jumping into anything serious for a few weeks or so. I’ll maybe have a casual romance with one or two trite books, but nothing serious.

You can tell I’m back in school because I’m not being overly repetitious with words as usual.  I’m using Boy Meets World to recover from the mythical distress I’m currently experiencing. It’ll probably help everything. While I’m hyperbolizing about my recent run-in with a dramatic book, I invite you to just read. In fact, just read my blog! Just kidding, this isn’t any form of genius but I do encourage you to get really wrapped up in a book. You’d be surprised how much you can feel for the characters and plot. And then I also invite you to watch a silly show. As long as it’s not one that’ll outdo any form of mental exercise you did by reading (I’m talking to you, E!). Happy reading!

And for all your troubles of reading this post here's a fun video, in case you haven't seen it already:

This is why I hate pants

Within the past year or so, I have found this new love of shopping online. Before, I thought it was super unsafe and would ruin my life (not to mention my credit) if I ever purchased something online. Now, I buy everything online because it meets two of my two basic rules of life:

1.     You don’t have to put pants on.

2.     You get stuff anyway.

I’ve bought everything from disk drives, to movies, to the computer I’m using right now. However, I need to stop buying clothes online. This is a strong warning I’m giving to people right now. I want you to picture that I’m telling you a great ominous tale full with lightning and I have a staff and for some reason, a beard, because I am that wise with this story.

DO NOT BUY CLOTHES ONLINE.

Did you get that?

DO NOT BUY CLOTHES ONLINE.

(unless you have done it before at the physical store you’re buying from and know your exact sizes).

And this is why:

Like I said, anytime I can get stuff delivered to me without exerting any effort, I take that opportunity. And I’ve achieved greatness with some dresses or skirts or something of the ilk. But pants and shorts, man. PANTS AND SHORTS. I hope the person who created the sizing for pants and shorts trips on a rock or something. Everyone has that one Achilles heel for their "pants and shorts." For some people it’s stomachs, or arms, or Achilles heels. Mine is the bottom because mine fluctuates in sizes every time I turn around.

So like an idiot I ordered a different sized short (I learned that it’s singular from What Not to Wear, great show) than I'm used to in a beautiful eyelet pattern. Stupid thing didn’t go over my thighs. So I sent that back. And then I tried ordering a different size. The stupid sizing chart was inaccurate. And like an idiot, I just ordered pants. They’re going to be a size too big when they get here. How do I know? Because I actually put on pants today and left the house to try on pants.

And let's take a moment to go back to sizing charts. Maybe it's just me, but they are never accurate. And for them to be accurate you have to measure yourself with a tape measure. Who even has those lying around?! (Okay I do, but that's because I have a Polywhirl tape measure). But the logic is basically if you're 28 inches you're going to be a size whatever because the guy with the sizing chart is an idiot. Guy's don't have this trouble. If a guy has a 38-inch waist, guess what, HIS SHORTS ARE A SIZE 38. So freaking ridiculous.

So I’m currently at war with my thighs, my pants, and the person who made sizing charts. I’m sorry if that was more of a disgruntled rant than a story. But please heed my advice, put on your pants and leave the house. Go to the physical store and try on your new pants. And then make peace with your body, because you deserve to. But never make peace with the guy who invented sizing charts. He’s a jerk.

(My awesome tape measure)