New Years'

Wow, Aina's posting thrice in a month! Whatever happened to her being "busy" all the time?
I still am, except I'm avoiding it for as long as possible. Additionally, December is this blog's official anniversary month, so it's extra special.

Plus, December brings so much material to write about. The lack of snow, the hatred for shopping, the societal pressures of not being alone on New Years' Eve. It's an eventful month of the year.

Today we're going to talk about New Years', because I find the concept ridiculous. I read somewhere that it's not officially the new year until the time reaches America, so we still have have about 2 hours to work with here.
The absurdity of celebrating on December thirty-first begins on the 26th, which, yes, is right after the twenty-fifth, which, yes, is Christmas. Right after people finish being thankful and saying their prayers around a table with their closest family, they go right out and start hoarding to party, because humans are twisted things. Stores deck their halls with ridiculous hats which are completely unacceptable to wear any other day of the year. The leftovers from the Halloween sales also come right out, because some people don't want to wait until the next year to dress up. In fact, the celebration of New Years is a combination of every other holiday in that year that didn't get celebrated enough. It's the filler. Thanksgiving, Easter, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Halloween, Christmas, etc; they're all mixed together to create the wildest bash of the year.  By wild, I mean completely without theme. Every holiday has a theme, right. This holiday doesn't have one, meaning people love it ten times as more.

Another issue we have to talk about is New York. Thousands of people gather in suffocating areas to celebrate another year of disappointment. The ball drop was one of the most overrated things I ever sat down to watch, and bear in mind that I've sat through three Super Bowls. 

Up until last year I actually thought that when the clock hit 12, then the city of New York dropped (literally, dropped) this gigantic ball made of shiny things and it crashed with such a force that pieces of it went everywhere. I have no idea why my mind decided to concur such an intense imagery. I legitimately thought it was the coolest thing. I spent an hour browsing the internet trying to find a video that had every element that an intense ball dropping video should.
All that literally happened was a shiny sphere floating very slowly down a pole while people rejoiced and got high on intoxicating fluids. There was no sudden crashing and definitely no glass flying in the air. I was very disappointed, to say the least.

Now, like any common elderly member of society, instead of being entertained by Dubai's magnificent use of fire, I grumble about what a waste of money everything is. I'm not even joking. I find it hard to be delighted when global warming is alive and present, (there's still no snow, for pete's sake) 

But, by far, the worst part about being hyped for New Years' is the amount of false expectations you inject in yourself.

Every year, humans vow to better themselves, despite failing the previous year and the year before the previous year and the year before the year before the previous year-

basically, they've been putting off the gym for the past ten years. We're not going to talk about it because we're all collectively ashamed. 

I thought about this for a while. I said to myself, "Aina, why aim for such huge goals, if you know you're never going to reach the level of motivation needed to get to such huge amounts of amazing-ness?"

So, I did the right thing. I never made a resolution after that. Now some of you are thinking, "That's terribly pessimistic! At least I have the effort to try!" 

See, but you've been trying the previous year and the year before the previous year and the year before the year before the previous year-

This way, I never feel a sinking feeling in my stomach at the end of the year. I used to be the kind of person who outlined their months out and made bucket lists that I knew I'd never complete. This way, I never set any real expectations! And if I do ever feel a sudden urge to better myself, I do it smack-dab in the start of September, when the aroma of school knocks me out of my senses.

Happy New Year.

It's Not December.

It’s December.

Does it feel like December? No.

The weather’s been fantastic here in Michigan. If you’re not in Michigan and you’re reading this in Siberia, sorry.

As of today over here, the temperature is a record-breaking 63 degrees Fahrenheit. This is how good our Spring gets. The temperature hasn’t been like this since 1893.

Many of the people are yelling “GLOBAL WARMING!! THIS IS ALL HUMANITY’S FAULT!! WE’RE GOING TO HAVE SUCH A WARM, DULL CHRISTMAS!” Their neighbors look at these people concernedly because these people were the only ones on the block who nearly burned the neighborhood down on July 4th.

We had snow once this month and that was it. Everyone was overjoyed, of course. Everyone likes snow that looks pretty.

The obsession for snow only lasts about two weeks in total. All the snowmen, snow angels, and snowball fights occur in those two weeks. No one touches the snow after that. Everyone starts complaining about how gloomy everything is. Then you, as a lover of every season no matter what, will tell them to kindly be quiet. These people will automatically say “It’s just...I like snow, but like, I hate it when it’s all smushy and brown??” Such people need to be banished off of Earth. They can go to Mars where as far as it’s been discovered, free of snow. Free of snow and life.

All the photographers come out in those two weeks. They go in the middle of Times Square and take pictures of the snow falling. Usually they take these pictures while New York experiences a severe blizzard. The photographers nearly die trying to get good shots, but it’s all in the name of photography. Later in the day, when they’ve recovered from frostbite, they open up Instagram and bring up that one perfect picture. They add a filter which makes it look wonderful and festive. People from around the world see the picture. “Oh, how I wish it snowed here in ______!” They say. The photographer grins wildly. No one will know they almost died trying to make snow look so unthreatening.

Gifts You Should (Not) Buy

Naturally, bloggers at this time of year transform their blogs into complete holiday decor. There's snow falling onto their posts, every single photograph has fairy lights in the back, and you can practically smell peppermint through the screen.

Let's change it up then, shall we.

As holiday season approaches, instead of rambling about how great we are at shopping two weeks beforehand, let's talk about how great we aren't. How great we aren't at pretending that we adore the gifts we receive. How great we aren't at maneuvering through December. Let's make everything the opposite.

Starting from today:

Today we're going to be talking about Gifts You Should (Not) Buy 

1) Socks. 

I don't care if you're buying this for your great grandfather who's cold 24/7, just don't. Why? I mean, if you're seriously concerned about why he's freezing at any given time of the year, get him socks just any other month. Don't give socks to people as holiday presents. That's lame. 

2) Sweaters. 

I don't celebrate Christmas, but I read everywhere that Christmas sweaters are dubbed the "ugly sweaters." I don't even find them particularly ugly, but don't give out sweaters that are already negatively named. If you're a grandmother reading this, you are no exception. I know it's tough, but NO SWEATERS.

3) Candles.

I don't understand this obsession for candles. Sure, yeah, they smell great, but how many can you possibly have? It's outrageous. Plus, do you like, light it once and then save it? And use a different one in the meantime? Do you have a bunch of half-used candles sitting around? The thought is making me nervous. FINISH THE CANDLES! DON'T GIVE THEM OUT AS GIFTS! LET PEOPLE FINISH THEIR HALF-USED ONES! 

4) Board Games

Unless it's something cool like Monopoly, (my siblings and I have still not finished our game. We started three years ago and have still not come to an agreement.) or Risk or Life or Stratego, don't give kids board games. Elders, perhaps, yes, you could give them board games, because it makes them feel better about not using technology. 

5) Anything Elmo-related

I don't know what it is with Elmo and adults, because they seem to think that this red monster is the toy every child wants. Let me tell you a deep, dark secret:

they don't. 

It's shocking, I know.

Elmo is absolutely terrifying when the batteries start to die, and fun fact: the batteries start dying .2 seconds after you've opened the box. His voice fades into this screechy thing that activates itself sometimes. Plus, there's a bunch of versions of Elmo toys, from Hawaii Elmo to Big Hugs Elmo (what??) to Rock 'n Roll Elmo to Hokey Pokey Elmo to the absolute menace itself, Tickle Me Elmo.

It will never stop laughing. 

Here's a picture I found of someone's collection of Elmo. Credit goes to "MNicoleM," although Ms. Nicole, I have no idea how you could look at this and not be terrified. Everyone likes different things, I guess.

Where dreams go to die.

6) Anything that has to do with physical activity.

That's not even a thing anymore. Where have you been.

7) Anything that has just newly come out in the field of technology.

I know you think you're going to be the coolest aunt/uncle/niece/nephew/etc by giving out the latest Apple phone (What version is it, again) but you're really, really not. Because the chances are extremely high that your recipient already has that item. There is a techie in everyone's family, and they will get that item the day it comes out, and at worst, the week it comes out . If you deny the fact that oh there's no techie in my family, we keep our old traditions alive and prospering, in fact i have a butter churn in the back room, I can tell you right now that if there is not one visible tech-obsessed human in your family, then there is a hidden one. Don't give technology, or you'll have to sit through pained looks while people realize that oh, i already have this, then you'll watch as their face morphs into damn, this would go so easy on eBay. Thanks, Uncle Bob!

By now, you're probably like, "Well Aina, what are we supposed to give out then? You've already eliminated clothing, toys, electronic toys, and razor scooters!" 

Let me tell you something I haven't eliminated yet, and that's Kitchen Appliances, which, by the way, do not. 

In fact, this holiday season, don't give anything at all! Relish the time you have with your family and friends. Share the fresh, homemade, churned butter at the dining table, with fairy lights illuminating the softness of the yellow block. 

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I Baked (And Did Not Burn the Kitchen Down)

Last weekend I made PUMPKIN PIE.

I don't bake as much as I used to. I can make one thousand excuses for why but the real reason was my cookie phase which failed quite terribly. 

I used to make a lot, lot of chocolate chip cookies. They rarely turned out picturesque, which is why I got mad for a very long time. Either they were too flat or too hard or too sunk in or too fluffy. They never turned out like the recipes looked like. The grudge lasts to this day.

That's only the first excuse.

The second is that I have one million conditions I must meet before I bake. Number one, most importantly, being that I bake when I feel like it.

It's ridiculous but if I don't feel like baking I pour ingredients halfheartedly. I mix things up and fling things in the oven instead of gently placing them. (I don't really do that.)

It's gotten to the point where my mother knows what the mood is when I bake. 

I say to her, "I just don't-"

And then she finishes, "you don't feel like baking."

My mother is an excellent baker and is quite professional at it, holding various certificates with famous chefs that are mostly all French and pronounce chocolate like cho-co-laat. 

So when she first heard my I don't feel like baking excuse, she found it completely absurd and made me stop being such a log. 

Later on, when I yelled at the cookies and someone chipped their tooth biting into one, she realized that this was not just a pathetic excuse. It was a pathetic excuse that made the tiniest bit of sense.

Since then, she accepts my excuse because she knows a cooked cookie is much better than a raw one.

Making this pie, though. Making this pie was an adventure (i barely survived) in itself.

The making of the pie took three hours on the first day and then i gave up so I was like, "I will continue tomorrow," and that's what I did. I applied the meringue (It's pronounced ma-rain and not mare-ing-u. I'm pretty sure I pronounce pretty much every baking term incorrectly.) the next day.

I'm not going to go in detail of making the pie because I will feel like I'm making another pie and I do not want to do that for another month, at least.

Here are the pictures. I told my sister to go fetch leaves from the backyard for photo shoot purposes. Very hygienic, I know.

Never again.

--

Mackinac Island Road Trip

I recently ventured towards upper Michigan, which includes Traverse City, Sleeping Bear Dunes (in the city of Empire), and Mackinac Island itself. The drive was about five hours, but that's only because everyone insisted on getting coffee. My sister was like "Nice, let me have a sip." She gulped it down like someone who has never drank coffee before. She burned her mouth and then had to stay quiet for the rest of the trip because talking was painful. (The rest of us were eternally grateful.)

    We went for a day and some hours, because we're busy people like that. No time for vacationing.

    Really though, there wasn't enough to see for a full-on week trip, so we packed our bags and left. I packed in my usual manner, with an extra pair of everything because anything can happen. My luggage was starting to overfill, and my brothers were severely disappointed in me because they were intent on going and coming back in the same clothes. They took about three seconds to pack because all they did was pack themselves into the car.

   My sister, on the other hand, is completely absurd in the art of packing because she doesn't pack, no, she moves houses. If we're going on a weekend trip, she's moving all of her things to the hotel, because goodness knows, that pearl bracelet was made for Mackinac Island. She literally had a jewelry bag that she insisted on taking. I felt like this was an issue that needed to be addressed, but my mother insisted on letting her do it her own way. I said okay and glared at her three comb set.

Before the trip, I baked about 50 cookies to eat throughout the trip. They lasted all the way through. My siblings were not amused.

I feel the need to write about the car ride as well, because it is a complex business that is not to be tampered with. I sit in the second row, behind the passenger seat, next to my little sister. My two brothers and one sister (who can't drink coffee) sat in the back, where they took every opportunity to shove how much fun they were having in my face. They can have their fun, but I'm the one in control of the windows and the one with an intense amount of legroom. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After a while, everyone started getting hungry, so I gave them a cookie each. They probably glared at me, but they were in the back so I couldn't see. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

We stopped at Traverse City and played on the seaside (lakeside) a while. Where we live in southeast Michigan , the beach is like forty minutes away and always seemed to be populates with the entirety of Michigan, so I've only gone there about three to four times. I splashed water and watched people fail at paragliding. I also collected seashells and then threw them to the ground in .1 second when my mom casually stated, "make sure to look out for bugs."

After staying there a while we drove to Empire, Michigan, which is known for the enormous sand dunes. It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Since I am a resourceful (and a very responsible and cool) blogger, I'm attaching a picture I took.

   :O How cool is that ?!? (very)

We also drove on a nature trail and I got this cool blurry photo:

Blurry photos are their own kind of beautiful. (That's my excuse as well as profound wisdom.) 

Three hundred and forty-seven pictures later, we headed out for St Ignace, where we would stay for the night. On Sunday, we'd go up north.

We left the hotel about ten a.m. From there we headed to Shepler's Ferry service. I took like 456345 pictures of the water, but with good reason. 

(My instagram never looked better) (@skiiies)

We spent about an hour walking until we realized that everyone was giving us skeptical looks that meant hahaha! good luck walking those eight-point-three miles!! don't die!

No one said that, but you could feel it in the wind that blew in your face as their bikes zoomed by.

We ended up going back to rent bikes. Everyone was pretty skeptical because they looked like they were from the 70's. They didn't have any other choices though, so we had to suck it up and enjoy history.

Mackinac Island was pretty cool in itself. I'm lame at adjectives but that's why I brought pictures.

There was horse stuff everywhere and everything smelled like horses but after it wasn't noticeable because it had infiltrated everyone.

(Horses are the kings of Mackinac.)

At one point we passed stairs that led to a haunted house and I wanted to go in but my brothers profusely refused. That's all I'm allowed to say.

After boarding bikes we went on the trail for the 8.3 mile ride around the island. Mainly, we wanted to see Arch Rock but missed the sign. My little sister yelled (when we were five minutes past the sign) "HEY I SAW A SIGN!" 

My brothers and I looked over and gave her this look:

(Also, I am doing so well with graphics today.)

In hindsight, we all need to get our eyes checked and she's actually the only one without any sort of eye wear.

Since we were far past the sign we did not turn back. We did stop a couple times during the road, though, because there were several entrances to the shores of Lake Huron. It was like a convenient water bottle. The water was so PURE AND CLEAN (at least it looked like it) so we drank it and splashed it.

The trek was long and I wanted to give up about 4590345 times in the middle. After we rode up a hill I was completely over all adrenaline whatsoever and was ready to set up camp and live there for the rest of my life. My brothers kept on encouraging me which was probably supposed to be a nice thing but such a rare occurrence which made it feel like a taunt instead. Plus, they did not want to drag me out of there. I had to survive all alone in the wilderness.

Every mile a wooden post would mark the distance and then everyone would cry and look up into the heavens. (That was just me.)

Soon after, (it was not soon and we ended up having to pay two hours/per bike) we saw sign of life...civilization...stores...food...humans...horse. We had done it. We had arrived in America. The year was 1620 and the Mayflower had arrived on Cape Cod.

This sounds like an exaggeration but it was exactly how I felt. After eight-point-three miles I was ready to sleep for forty-eight hours straight. Birds sang, the sun said hello. I had come back from battle, alive and in one piece. The townsfolk rejoiced, the mayor organized a party for all of the warriors. It was a happy time in the kingdom.

--

A couple more pictures below. The last one is my favorite. It was taken around the St. Ignace Area.

Mackinac Bridge with weirdly placed lines in the middle because it was taken from the backseat. I hoped it would go with it but it did not and was, in fact, very noticeable. On a further note, my friend frantically asked me what I was thinking when I  took this picture and then I realized how it must look to other people. It was taken in the backseat and I did not stand in the way of an incoming car to take this picture. I like to think I am dedicated, but fortunately, not that much.

       

JoAnn's Fudge Shop

Weirdly angled photo because my family was leaving me behind to fend for myself.

Tennis is not badminton

Perhaps you have heard of tennis, but badminton is not like tennis, which many folks adhere it to. In tennis, you have a racket in your hand that is not quite as light and comfortable as a badminton bat. On top of THAT, the ball is not ultimately easy to serve back with, since you already need to control the weight and pressure on your hand to hit back a much stronger ball. However, in badminton, you have a bat that is incredibly light, which makes it easier to go around swinging without necessarily hitting the ball. Now, the BALL is not a ball at all. It is in fact called a BIRDIE. It has feathers stuck on wood on one end, and a rubber side on the other,and if for some reason you hit the feather part, you are not going to get the ball more than a few feet away from you,instead; you are going to get some torn feathers.

In tennis there is a court in which most of the time the ball is bouncing all around on, while in badminton it is mostly about air. It's not even boring if you play alone, because the birdie is flying all over the place, unlike tennis. A tennis ball that goes up is not cool if it comes back down to hit you in the eye, especially if that ball happens to not have feathers. Since the birdie is really light, and the bat is really light, you have to balance power. You cannot play in windy days, because all the power is subjected to turning right or left. You should definitely not play near a house, or trees. It is not as fun trying to get a birdie out of a tree. (Experience.) Also, it is not a good idea to get the birdie out of the tree with a bat. It increases your chances of having the bat stuck in the tree also. (More experience.) (The same day, actually.) The reason I say not to play near a house is because the birdie could get stuck in the rain gutters, and you might never see them again. (Even more experience.) I know for a fact there are two birdies currently stuck in the rain gutters, unless the wind felt like picking it up and dropping it out of the sky two miles away. Hopefully you’re not standing there, because if the wooden side (not the feathers) comes straight down, do me a favor. Move out of the way (first),get your badminton bat, and please hit it back two miles.

Dentists

Today I’m going to talk about a topic long, long overdue.

It may be offensive, but every writer knows this day will eventually come forth in their lives.

Today just happens to be mine.

Today we’re going to talk about dentists.

--

          Dentists are the epitome of mystery. Dentists like to reel you in with bright, perfect smiles, but when your back is turned, they tend to do whatever they want. Often, they do not let you know. In fact, more than often. Most of the time, by signing papers, you send over your trust bank to theirs. Their trust bank fills by the patient, until one day, all the trust pours out because the bank simply cannot keep it in. When that happens, it’s about a year into your contract, so you cannot do a single thing while they wonder what they’ve done wrong and blame your previous doctor for it. (More on that in #4)

          Now that we’ve established what a dentist really is underneath their blinding, too-white smile that never falters, we’re going to move on some of the worst things their service comes with.

               1.      False Sense of Assurance

          Dentists are professionals at this. They are constantly telling you, “Oh, it’s really nothing. Won’t feel a thing!” while you feel everything. Their office is decorated to look like your third grade classroom (“You can do this!” “Success pays off!” “There’s always the rain before the rainbow!”) which do nothing at all to reassure you. Sometimes you’re convinced that the only reason they have a dozen frames on the wall is to entertain you while you wait for approximately seventy minutes, which brings us to our next topic.

               2.       Waiting Rooms

          Waiting rooms are not just “waiting” rooms. In fact, they should be called “Multi-Purpose Rooms,” because of the amount of things you do instead of simply waiting. When I go to a waiting room, I memorize every motivational quote word for word that is stuck in there, I revise all and every algebraic equation ever taught, and I think about the meaning of life. Usually, when I get to the meditating point, it’s been about thirty minutes sitting in the Multi-Purpose Room. I think about why I am sitting there, not waiting but wasting time. I think about how I could have gone without it, since my teeth are not as bad as having to wait for an hour, but the dentists think otherwise. Which brings us to our next topic.

               3.      Self-Esteem Declining

          You know when you’re about to take a test, and you’re like, “I am going to do well. I have studied. I understand the concepts and can put them to test. I will do well,” but then you go in and it’s nothing like what you studied? In fact, it’s an entirely different subject. It turns out you’re sitting in the wrong room, but that’s not the point.

          That’s what this is like. You go in to have your teeth evaluated, and you know they’re not terrible, but they’re not exactly wonderful either. They’re just okay, which is why you don’t think you’ll have too much of a problem. You expect the dentist to say something like, “Yeah we’ll just touch up this area and this area and then we’ll be done.”

          Instead, the dentist pulls out a scroll that falls to the ground and goes out the Evaluation Room into the Multi-Purpose Room and out the door (and even farther, but by that time the traffic has destroyed the remaining piece of paper) that highlights every single thing that is wrong with your teeth, while you sit there feeling like everything is your own fault. As if when you were born you had options and you selected, “Teeth that aren’t beautiful and will require around three years to fix by placing various metals in my mouth,” instead of “Teeth that are perfect and blinding and will receive compliments everywhere.” That’s what dentists make you feel like anyway.

               4.      Bullying of other Dentistries

          Not only do dentists like to make you feel bad, they also bash on the previous dentists you had gone to. They somehow manage to make you feel bad about choosing them. They don’t seem to realize that this will fix literally nothing. In fact, to them, everyone before them was totally wrong and they are your savior now, so here’s your bill for $10,000 and an evaluation that makes you feel terrible about yourself.

          I’m going to write an example, since this is all very hard to believe, I know. It’s funny what goes on behind the scenes. Subscribe to this blog to receive more insider info about the criminal masterminds behind your local dentistries.

          Say you go to your dentist for an evaluation. It becomes a terrible experience within the first few minutes. The next few minutes, the dentist will interrogate of your previous dentists’ evaluation of your teeth. So, he’s asking what they told you. You will tell them what they told you. Your current dentist is going to say, “Well. They were wrong when saying it was too early. In fact, you’re late.” They may not be that blatant about it, but believe me, you can read through their words. Then, you feel bad for following directions the previous dentist gave you! It’s absolutely maddening. You cannot and never will win.

               5.      Actual Procedure

          We’ve spent enough time talking about the torture beforehand. This is what follows. You will be seated after enough time thinking about the essence of life. There, you will wait some more. Or, in other words, wonder what doom comes your way this time.

          A nurse will come in first. They’re like the yellow lights on traffic signals. They’re yelling “CAUTION CAUTION!!” to you in their heads, because they spend half their life next to the dentists themselves and they know exactly what’s going to happen, while you sit there, naïve and innocent to the world.

          Then the dentist will come in, and you will absolutely loathe every second you have to spend with them, because they’re not being gentle, and it makes you want to yell but you can’t, because there’s forty-seven murder weapons in your mouth.

               6.      Murder Weapons

          I’m not even kidding about them being murder weapons. When the dentists roll over their petite little table made just for tools, I began to imagine it as a horror scene. The dentist will pick up one, whisper to his assistant, “Which one will it be this time?”

          The assistant will return his wicked grin, nodding. “The spiked one which makes them bleed.” He laughs manically.

          They both laugh in tune, the candles casting shadows in the office.

Disclaimer: This blog is in no way trying to insult their local dentistry, even though many examples were derived from there. I like the work you do and am immensely thankful. This is simply a compilation of various feelings felt while being in the office that you should not be offended by because I dislike going to all doctors. If you are one of them, I am sorry you get written about. 

Candy Crush

Candy Crush is one of those games you’ll still hear about in 2050, because at that point you’re going to be a lot older than you are right now and older people tend to lean towards the older games, 

because,“this new generation has the crappiest games. What is this floating air picture, anyways?”

(“It’s a hologram, Grandma.”)

Candy Crush doesn’t look like it’s going to disappear off the Earth any time soon, because it’s linked to Facebook, and once you make a Facebook, you never delete it. Here’s to never-ending “life” requests, because five lives will not help you conquer the candy universe. Especially, since they take about six hours to fill.

Another sign it’s not really disappearing is because the developers are always making new levels. There’s all these sweet names, like Lemonade Lake and Chocolate Mountains and PepperMint Palace. They’re never going to run out, probably. We’ll have to wait until 2050 to see.

Maybe this is a controversial topic and people will come after me. “You’ve never even played it!” they’ll yell as I run for my life, preferably in the wind.

Oh, but I HAVE. A lot, actually.

I first got the game and played it like, “whoo! So much fun!! Look how easy this is !! Crushing jellies! Crushing candies!! Crushing my dignity!!”  I got around Level 85? Somewhere like that. At that point, I was sick of waiting an eternity for my lives to replenish and I didn’t have Facebook to request them, so I started going into the phone’s settings and changing the date to days ahead,  and then changing it back. Clever, isn’t it.

NO.

I’m still slightly bitter about it.

After my lives would replenish, I would reverse the clock back to the original date, but doing THAT, doubled the wait time, since I travel too far ahead in time.

In conclusion, I had to wait 4 years for my next lives to replenish, so I deleted the app and reinstalled, hoping it would fix the glitch.

ALL MY PROGRESS WAS GONE.

Of course, this was to be expected, except I didn’t expect the expected, which led to an un-expecting affair.

(Sorry.)

SO, I STARTED AGAIN.

I know, I’m ashamed of myself as well. But I got to Level 100 and stopped there.

I am still there, and that was a year and a half ago.

The Saga Discontinues.

16 Things You Could Do To Make Sure Your Summer is Not a Complete Waste:

• Not eat pringles. Extremely unhealthy.
• Feel the sunshine. At least every once in a while. Just so you can say something to your mother next time she asks.
• Family time. Nothing like a couple of good ole’ bantering, that will most likely result in [highly uncivilized] banter.
• Buy Cheerios, because they’ve been putting toys in their cereal and I’m wondering if business is slow. Help them out. Be a good humanitarian, and all.
• Learn how to french braid. And the “normal” braid.
• Practice your math skills, such as learning how to spell and pronounce “theorem.”
• Teach a young one about why voting Green Party is a good idea, even though they may not be the favorable vote.
• Take up some good literature. Something that won’t require you pulling up Sparknotes to translate the text.
• The Phantom Tollbooth. I mean The Phantom Tollbooth.
• Take up your friends on go-karting, even though they suggested it three months ago, but you were late on a blog deadline, so it’s really not supposed to be an issue.
• Take the time to finally learn about the World Wars, because you’re still not sure who the allies were.
• Learn how to cook a decent meal which could get you through a day without your mother.
• Give up on the previous one and learn her bank pin number, so you can buy frozen dinner instead.
• Frozen dinner is quite tasteless, so actually try your hand at cooking.
• Make yourself a big bowl of
• Cheerios.

Social Media

Hello Everybody.

I capitalized “everybody,” because I’m sure at least one person reads this.

(I’m very sure of that fact, because it happens to be me.)

Anyways, just a disclaimer since I say similar things often, I am not desperate for readers, nor do I write solely so I can get reads, in fact I’m very content with writing constantly to myself, although having readers is definitely a great thing. I just make fun of myself too much to probably be healthy.

In fact, I haven’t told any of the people in my friend circles about this blog in very much detail. I mumble the url and hope nobody asks me to repeat it, because my url name sounds terrible out loud for some reason.

Another reason I have not really told anybody is because I feel like this is pretty much the last social media in which nobody follows me. See, when people follow you, you have to overthink absolutely everything, like, “Oh, what will they think of me? Oh, I’m spamming up their dashboard!! Oh, I hope this doesn’t come up in real life!!”

I say this because the other day my friends told me they knew I had made an instagram, and then I internally contemplated every single choice I made on there. I sincerely hoped they did not notice that my “quote of the ‘day’ ” had been the same quote for nearly two weeks.

Another reason no one should ever find out I made an instagram is because it is the most dull profile of all time. My first picture was a picture of my wall. (My literal wall, not my social media wall. And yes, I am proud of that pun.)  

See, the reason I made an instagram was so I could connect with followers that I had on another app which was closing down. So I was like, “Hey let’s just all meet up there then!” I had planned to make it mostly an art profile, because that’s what I did on the app.

So far, I have posted exactly one picture of art, one picture of ice cream, three pictures of the cafe I ate the ice cream in, and another wall. One reason I have trouble posting pictures is because my brain goes, “WELL, WHO CARES? NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM! JUST EAT IT QUIETLY.” There’s more pictures among there, which includes my paint palette, which I thought would give me the “art blog vibe.” So far, I think the only vibe that it’s giving off is that I could not care less, and it’s doing a great job of depicting the truth.

Originally, I had planned to never make an instagram, because I felt like I was the last survivor on Earth who did not have one.

I took great pride in that, yes. I was one of those people. I probably still might be, because I have not made a twitter yet.

I’ve thought about twitter before, but the problem is that the limit is 120 characters per tweet or something, and I can’t deal with that. I’m known for writing long paragraphs about the randomest things. I cannot comprehend the fact that I have only 120 characters to describe my lunch. I have a hard time fitting in quotes in my instagram bios:

Imagine twitter:

“Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

― Albert Camus

THAT ABOVE, IS 138 CHARACTERS. Now we must shorten it.

“Don't walk <- me; I may not lead. Don't walk in -> of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and B my friend.”

― Albert Ca-

Continutation of tweet in second tweet:

“--mus.”

Plus, I would do my best to annoy all of my followers on twitter with constant weather updates, to the point where I had a negative amount of them. I’m not sure how this post turned out to be about social media, but nonetheless I am glad it did because it causes too many problems in life.

Let’s talk about google plus. I have chosen that platform as my main. It is where random people will add you and you will get creeped out because nobody does that on google plus. They are mostly elderly adults who are trying to fit in this new generation.

I think I made my google plus as a random move, like, “Hey, what’s this?” I do not think I meant for it to become my virtual newspaper.

Tumblr. Tumblr is where I first went when I wanted to make a blog, and I quickly found out that I would need a degree in Computer Science before I could successfully maneuver around it. I also could not take myself seriously on there. And ever since then, I only use my blog to post about things that I find hilarious among other things.

Puns. I post puns.

In between my strange sense of humor I also post about places that you have to pay money to look at, calligraphy, nerdy references to help me with essays, and more along that. I am trying to create an enormous “space” tag to quench my inner dreams of living in outer space.

Tumblr is so popular, and since I have not actively joined any fandoms, I have accidentally followed multi-fandom blogs. In conclusion, “Yes, I know what’s going on in your interests. Your fandom just released a trailer. It is becoming a meme. Heartbreak. Drama. Also, no, I’m not actually in the fandom, no, no. I just follow people. Not in real life, I mean. I’M SERIOUS, I DON’T DO THAT!!”

Sigh. Yes.

People on Tumblr are also very dramatic and there’s always tons of drama going around that is not for the faint of heart. People on there are also sick and tired of that drama, so every once in a bit you’ll see people who are confused and trying to decipher between a compliment or an insult since they get insulted so much.

(Yes.)

There’s so many different types of blogs on tumblr, your dashboard ends up in to be random purple aesthetic posts and then in the midst of everything are random memes you never asked for.

About memes. Memes can become memes in minutes, you just have to have a bunch of followers who have the same mind trail as you. The other day, a picture of a dress was going around, and everyone was arguing about what colors it was. This happened in nearly two hours, and I left my tumblr to come back with everyone freaking out about their eyes. I was perfectly okay, “It’s gold and white!! What is the problem!! What is the internet, even?!! Is this really what we have come to?!!?” This was before I found out that some people saw it as black and blue. BLACK AND BLUE. IT IS SO CLEARLY GOLD AND WHITE.

Ahem.

Anyways, for a full twenty-four hours,  the dress caused an internet explosion, and it was all very unnecessary indeed. It’s just science and brightness levels on your screen, or something. Or something.

In conclusion, at one point in everyone’s social media life, all you feel like doing is disabling all media profiles and living in a cave. Except. You spent a long time on those profiles. Maybe you will disable it another day. For now, you must post your articles about social media. On your blog. Which is also social media.