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Name: Sam
Country: United States
State: Ohio
Birthday: 8/1/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: I associate my junior year of high school with the color green. I rarely finish books, though I'll read the first 80%. I only lie because I feel like it. I do not love boats, but I love singing about being on them. I think the human body is amazing. I do not like pink or glittery anything. I don't like being talked down to. Motives are important. I will never have money. I tend to buy you dinner if you tell me that you won't either. I think of the song Meet Virginia whenever I drink coffee because it's typically after midnight. I will blow off studying for anything if you ask me to watch and/or play some form of baseball. I do not like to look the same in every picture. I think a lot of things and if you're lucky, you'll know some of them.
Message: message me
AIM:  sammychic06
Member Since:
7/12/2005
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| So my friend, Ben, and I were talking last night because I was upset and I've finally stopped doing the whole "be upset by yourself" thing. I was telling him about the things that have been going on in the past few weeks (which you don't know about, but it's long and complicated). Anyways, we were talking about getting into ruts. When I came back for RA training, it's like a whole new Sam emerged. I was feeling confident, I was happier than I can ever remember being. I did what I want when I wanted. And I finally felt beautiful and intelligent and competent and funny and all the things that people usually tell me I am, except I finally believed it. But now I feel like I'm falling back into old Sam (not as bad as old Sam, but not as confident anymore). And it's ridiculous: the amount of work it takes for me to be happy. I'm actively trying to make myself happy, to put myself in situations that will be conducive to that. But why is it so much work? Isn't happiness supposed to be easier than this? I literally have to work to suppress thoughts to keep myself happy. Thoughts of insecurity and worthlessness invade my head and it is literally like a battle trying to keep them at bay. Why is my pursuit of happiness causing such an intense internal struggle--isn't that self-defeating?
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| It'd be super cool if SOMETHING in my life could just be simple. Uncomplicated.
Just this once.
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| “Healthy ways to cope with stress are to work out, play the piano, knit or cook or go to church,” says Irwin. “But if you call me up and give me bad news right now, I can’t run out and play the piano or start knitting or go to church. What I can do is hang up and say the F-word."
-MSNBC article
"I'm not quite up to an A cup yet."
-Adam Shearer
Dr. Brown: The normal life cycle for a computer is 3-4 years, yours is older than 5 years.
Dr. Bulanda: What if all I do is eat crackers and play Ms. Pac Man?
"Questionable like, 'what great, responsible things will she do next?'"
-Mindy Carson on my questionable morals
Maureen Cerni (talking about our favorite Billy Joel songs): I also really like only the good die young because it made me feel ok about being a bad catholic."
The Oldies But Goodies from Kristen Dale Altenau section:
"Yeah, cause I was planning on going out and getting hammered. Hammered is the one with alcohol, right?"
"No, I've never heard of the Marx Brothers. Are they black?"
"Think about it! Because the more you think about it, the truer it gets!"
"She beat my clock."
"What do you think about scrotums?"
"Payback's a shit."
"They also attacked the salad bar like it had done something heinous to a close friend and gotten away with it, but they knew it really did it and they happened to meet it in a dark alley one night shortly after the aquittal and happened to have some sort of weapon and the police never found out who killed the salad bar, but everyone suspected it was DZ and they were never really the same after that."
-Eric Malakalak, in what I believe to be his best blog post quote of the summer.
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| Well, I never did finish my last entry. But move on with me, will you?
After a year and a half of trying to travel SOMEWHERE, I finally made it to Boston this weekend. I dubbed it my weekend of firsts. I went with my cousin (Brenna) and her boyfriend (Dave), who are two of the greatest people I know. Aside from visiting Boston, I camped, ate lobster, stole firewood, became a passenger of public transit, and snuck into the Museum of Fine Arts (conveniently dubbed MFA, or "em effa!!").
We started out driving on Friday morning (not as early as we had hoped, but I wasn't expecting a miracle). It was a beautiful day, which I was happy about because the entire drive to and from Pennsylvania was plagued by rain. We decided to drive through Canada, despite my lack of any proper ID aside from my drivers license. I thought it was funny because the Canadians gave us more crap than the Americans for not having a passport, even though it's only required to get into the US.
Canada was boring.
Until we got to Niagara Falls, which apparently has one more "a" than I previously thought (leave it to the crazy Canadians). Niagara was beautiful, so we looked at it for a minute then crossed the bridge into NY. New York made me hate toll roads, especially when you're low on gas and can only stop at the service stations, the first two of which did not have working gas stations. After pulling into the third station (about 150 miles later) on fumes, we continued on the toll road, which was not any nicer than other roads and only allowed the gouging of gas prices along the route.
We stopped near Syracuse to set up camp (after paying 3 bucks to get on McDonald's wireless to find a campground) in a state park, which was campsite suburbia. We opened the tent bag to find no poles, which forced Dave to pitch the tent using string and the conveniently located trees adjacent to the campsite. In the meantime, Brenna and I went to the local grocery store to get food, where there was an evil lady who refused to sell Brenna (who is 24) beer. But afterwards, we stole some firewood from the side of a road (because it was getting late and we couldn't afford the $5 a bundle wood available at the park). Then we headed back, determined that we needed coke and more firewood, so I went out and got it while Brenna cooked and Dave continued setting up. The food was incredible, one of the best meals I've ever had: juicy chicken, corn on the cob, asparagus (yay for smelly pee!), cinnamon peaches, and garlic bread. Then we sat around the campfire drinking vodka and coke, perfecting our farting stances, and talking about anything that came to mind. It was a great night.
The next morning, we left (after taking a dip in the green lake, which had sulfur at the bottom, which explained the gassy fart smell that we thought was an exploded toilet) and realized that all of our cell phones were dead and we still needed the last bit of directions to my cousin's house, so we stopped in Worcester (pronounced Wooster, about which we had quite an involved discussion) and found one of the only pay phones left anywhere. We finally got there, decided I needed to eat lobster, ate lobster, and headed into Boston. We walked around Fanieul Hall (Hall is misleading, it's really a market with restaurants and street performers and shops) and then it started raining, so we went home and slept for a long time.
Then Sunday we ventured out for our big day of exploring. We visited BU med school, which is not in the ritzy part of Boston (which is good, because I want to be in a lower income area). Then we went to the Museum of Fine Arts since Brenna was a art history minor in college. After finding that admission was $17, we asked the security guard if we could go to the bathroom...well, correction, Brenna and Dave did. Naive little me decided to wait until the guard (who I'm certain knew what was going on) said "why don't you go make sure she knows what she's doing?". So we walked through the MFA, then decided we were hungry. After rejecting a number of overpriced (or in Boston terms, reasonably priced) restaurants, we went to Ernesto's in Little Italy (aka the North End), where I partook in the best pizza I've ever had/sat next to a sketchy Italian guy who I'm fairly sure was Ernesto himself.
We sat at a tavern in Fanieul Hall so that we could people watch outdoors and listen to the sweet[ish] sounds of an Elvis impersonator. We ended the night by watching a street performer and I got called into the show, so that was fun.
Boston is great. It's beautiful, and clean, and safe, and so alive. I know I would be happy if I went there. But I still feel like something is pulling me toward Detroit.
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| I just got back from a family reunion, which is one of the most amazing weeks I've had in a very long time. I'll give you the week in detail:
My cousins (Brenna and Michael) and sister (Erika) and I decided to road trip together, since we were all lacking parents taking a direct or initial route to the location. We went out Monday night in downtown Detroit (a city, I might add, with which I am falling in love), specifically, Greektown. We went to a jazz loft (cleverly disguised as a psychic reading place), but since the band was not yet there, we ventured down the street to a Greek restaurant. We all had a ton of Greek food (through shared appetizers) and even a Greek shot called Ouzo. The waiter was hilarious, very Greek, and got us all to join in by yelling "Opah!!" as he lit a stream of fire from his hand to the plate of food.
The jazz loft was incredible. This music had more soul than I've ever seen in jazz. People just playing because they loved it, a bass player just dancing with an instrument a foot taller than him like it was nothing, fingers dancing on keys of the piano, and they all had their eyes shut, swaying to the sweet sounds that had my jaw on the floor. People say Detroit's got nothing left but with this kind of heart, I won't ever believe it.
So finally, at approximately 2:00 am, we set out on our quest for Split Rock Resort in Pennsylvania. We set out looking for adventure, leaving very early so that we could stop for waterfalls in the Poconos. Setting out with that attitude gave me the feeling that I was 20 and nothing else, and I loved it. However, we were halted by rain almost the entire way (well, when we had daylight, anyway). We finally got there at 2:00 pm, which took about 3 and a half hours longer than it should have. But the road there was gorgeous, and that's all we cared about. So, on about an hour and a half of sleep in the car, we arrived to the resort. And what did I spend the next two hours doing? Chasing my 4 and 2-year-old cousins around the Harmony Room (the room that my family had reserved for dinners and such). I made up a game called "Frog Catcher" a couple of gatherings ago, which is tag but you have to hop like a frog, so they kept yelling "Let's play frog catcher!" Despite my exhaustion, I obliged, because the smiles on their faces woke me up better than any amount of caffeine. Finally, we had dinner and got to know each other again, where I (re) met some long lost second cousins who happen to live near Boston, and now just happen to be who I will be staying with this weekend (can I get a hip hip hooray for NOT paying $400 for a hotel?). They were incredibly great to talk to, and I am very much looking forward to spending some time with them in their abode.
I will update more later, but I've gotta go for now!
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