Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Finders Keepers?

Ethical dilemma:
If I find a pen in a practice room, can I keep it? Or is that stealing? Should I leave it there and hope the owner comes back for it? That's what I'd do with bigger items or money...well, except change. Anything 25 cents or smaller is finders-keepers.
Well whether or not it's stealing, the fact of the matter is that after the past two days of practicing, I have 5 more pens than I did before.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Attention! Message Memory 95% full!!

Those words are the worst.
Time to empty the inbox. Delete interactions with beloved friends, witty comments, exciting life updates, affirmations of love and affection. Just hit a button and it'll be like they never existed.
I tried to put it off, really I did. Every time I was almost out of room, I would just delete my sent messages instead. I don't need to read what I said, I live with myself.
But soon there were 5 messages in my sent and 993 in my inbox.
And so I had to do it.
I cleared a few less-beloved texts from my saved messages folder and transferred a couple hilarious, inspiring, and loving texts out from the inbox into saved messages. It felt like choosing which of my children could fit in the lifeboat.
And then I pressed the button and all those words...all those meanings...were gone.
It's ok though.
I don't get to save my conversations in real life either.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Singly Aware

February 14th. A day that will live in infamy forever...I mean...something...yeah....
At this point you're probably asking, "Karissa, what is this infamous day to which you refer?"
Try and guess.
"Oh, it's Lupercalia, the Roman fertility festival?"
Indeed it is, but guess again.
"Are you referring to St. Valentine's Day, the saints' day rife with fabricated legends about forbidden love?"
"Oh, wait! I know this! You couldn't possibly mean....Singles Awareness Day?"
Good job, reader.
I have long made a point of broadcasting my scorn for this Hallmark Holiday. Tacky cards, obligatory candy, swooney girls, makey-outey couples...blegghhh...it's like everything I hate combined into one day. But....dagnabbit...there's this secret part of me that likes and appreciates it. Nothing like a little love, right?
It all started when I was 16. In honor of the holiday, my friends and I decided to watch the barfiest, loviest, girliest movie we could get our hands on. That's right. We watched Sleepless in Seattle. Nothing like destined lovers to fill an adolescent heart with angst. So I went home, and moped about my singleness ("no boy will ever like me, I'm so ugly, there's no love in this world for me, etc., etc., etc.) Yes, I was pathetic. Yes, I was 16. Get over it.
I was startled out of my gloom by the ring of the doorbell. There stood Courtney and Marissa, dressed completely in black, and grinning ear to ear. "Happy SAD!" they shouted, handing me a black balloon and a plate full of frowny-face sugar cookies. As I took my balloon up to my room, my angst dissipated. Sure, no boy had ever liked me. Sure, I had acne. Sure, I was painfully awkward around boys I liked. But guess what? That didn't matter. Because I had the best friends on earth. Friends who loved me, friends who brought me cookies, friends who I had time to hang out with because I didn't have a boyfriend. Psh...who needs Valentine's Day? Let's celebrate being single!
So on this day, I am happy. I am happy that today I can tell those that I love how much they mean to me. I am happy that I know some of the most amazing people on this planet. I am happy that I have friends to play dinosaurs with, friends to chase ducks with, friends to drive a stick shift with, friends to eat gratuitous amounts of ice cream with....I mean, seriously?
Who needs love after all?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The Cashier's Lament

Sometimes at work I get reallllllly bored. Here is the product of one such boredom episode.

In just one more hour,
I'll leave to devour
Delicious grilled chicken at home.
But till then I'm weary,
though I try to look cheery,
Manning the checkout alone.
It's the slow afternoon times
That drive me to force rhymes
From my tired and overworked brain.
No customers in sight.
No task left but to write,
Lest boredom drive me insane.
I get kinda lonely,
being the only
one at this register desk.
And so if you're seekin'
A date for this weekend,
Come visit me-I'll say Heck yes!

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

The NeWest TRenD On FacEbOOk!!

Doppelganger week.
What is it, may you ask?
As far as I can tell from my observations, doppelganger week is a week for people to pretend that they are as attractive as someone who pretty much gets paid to be attractive.
Doppelganger week is a week for us a society to feed our absurd, and frankly, unhealthy, obsession with celebrities.
The actual event seems to consist of individuals changing their profile picture to that of a celebrity they wish they looked like...I mean...a celebrity who they look a lot like...twins, really.
It is a week for insecurities to come out in the form of compliment-fishing: "So..this is my doppelganger...recently rated as one of the most beautiful females on earth...I'm not that pretty (I have to say that so I look humble)...but...what do you think? No really...what do you think? (Please don't tell me what you really think, just stroke my ego for a second...yep, right there..ah that hit the spot!)"
Or even better, "Here are 5 gorgeous women (or men, as the case may be). Now tell me which one I look the most like! Even better, tell me I'm prettier/studlier than them all!"
Apparently the "answer 50 questions about me" or "even if our only contact was that time I threw up on you, share something nice about me" memes weren't enough of an ego massage.
Friends..sigh...how can I say this in a way that won't hurt feelings? Most of you are less physically attractive than Jessica Alba (or if you're a man...Hugh Jackman). Sorry if that was a low blow. But here's the thing...most of you have more going for you than they do. I've laughed with you, talked with you till all hours of the night, gone on some of the most spectacular adventures with you. I'd rather hang out with you guys than I would with ANY celebrity. And I believe the same about myself. I believe I am beautiful, but physical attractiveness is a negligible part of that. I am beautiful because God made me, and gave me attributes of divinity: love, joy, fun, confidence, integrity.
You know what...one of my favorite people ever (good old Willy Shakespeare) said this better than me:
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
  And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
  As any she belied with false compare
So I will be keeping my profile picture. The one where I'm making two dinosaur pb and h sandwiches fight each other. Because that's me. Not Anne Hathaway, or Carrie Underwood, or Kate Hudson. Just Riss. That weird girl who likes to color and go on adventures. And I'm down with that.