Dear Classmate

To the lady in Intro to Research today who was all miffed with me,

First off. You came into the classroom and sat down, right next to me. You got all of your stuff out and were sitting there for a full five minutes. You were chatting and completely at ease. I heard you when you turned to your friend and said, "I normally like to have an empty desk next to me," before you turned to me and started trying to shove my desk further from you so you could fit another in between us. I was sitting here first, so find your own space. I'm not going to just let some girl, whether or not she's bigger than me, push me around (heh heh, get it? Because she was pushing me in my chair. Heh. Heh.), just because she wants an extra desk to put her junk on.

Second, when I asked you what in the mother frickin crap you were doing, you started trying to explain about how "claustrophobic" you were. Lady. I am claustrophobic. Very very much so. I can't even wear certain clothes because I'll have a panic attack. I can't sit, for long periods of time, between people in a car. I have nightmares in which I'm trapped in some small space and, when I wake up, am wrapped super tightly in my blankets and end up having a panic attack and crying. I have to hug people a certain way, making sure my arms aren't trapped under theirs. Heck, I once had a meltdown in a dressing room because the dress I tried on didn't give my arms full range of motion, and even though it looked great on me, I couldn't help but start freaking out because it was a tiny bit too tight around my shoulders. Even thinking about somebody being trapped in a small space terrifies me, and I'm not exaggerating. My heart beat is already really fast, but then you add my fear of small spaces in the mix and my heart rate is comparable to that of a cat. I know how claustrophobia works and I know how it feels. It isn't "just wanting a bit more room." It's not a matter of preference. 


Third, I don't appreciate your lack of decency and manners. I didn't like the fact that you were sitting next to me, but I dealt with it. Why? Because my momma raised me right. I have manners, I'm not rude. If it really bothered me to the point that I wanted you to move, I would have asked you, politely. You just started pushing, as hard as you could. I have a bit of news for you though. That was not in fact a delivery room. That was a classroom.

Next time you want an extra desk, ask politely for me to move over. Don't you dare shove my desk away and then shove another desk into mine so that I'd move faster. I will make sure that I am sitting next to you when we have our next exam, and I will tell the professor that you were trying to get answers from me. I'm not a nice person and will have no remorse.

Thank you for being a butthead and giving me something to write about,

Rebekah

I've been claustrophobic since as long as I can remember. I can look at a small space and be like, "Yeah, I can fit in there." and a lot of times, I'll fit into the space. Every time, however, my heart rate will increase and I'll start sweating and I'll stop having coherent thoughts. The faster I get out of that space, the quicker I can calm down, obviously, but if I'm trapped, I will seriously just give up and cry. It's not funny, and I am actually scared of people who think it is because I don't want them to try to put in a small space. This is an irrational fear of mine.
I hate being claustrophobic. It really sucks and makes life just a bit harder. I mean, it's not like losing a limb or getting some huge scar. But it's still a bit of an issue for me.
While I hate claustrophobia, I hate it more when people try to use something like it for their own selfish means, especially when they aren't actually suffering from any kind of phobia. I mean, how rude is it to sit down next to somebody and then just start shoving them in their desk, without saying a word to them, simply because you want a bit of extra room? You can't just stand up and walk to the other side of your friend, where there are five empty desks.

Maybe it shouldn't irk me so much, but it really makes me mad when people can't just show a bit of respect to other people, when they can't just be polite. I mean, I'm not the biggest fan of people. I'm a people person, but I don't like people, in general, very much. Despite that distaste for fellow humans, I'm polite, I smile, I say "thank you," and "please" and "yes sir" and "yes ma'am". I mind my manners. And I cannot stand people who can't do the same and display basic social interaction courtesies.

Darth Vader, over and out.

An Apple A Day...

I used to be pretty into working out. The hour of insanity every day was something I never wanted to skip because I actually, really, truly enjoyed it. I was addicted to it; the burn of my calves during the initial warm up; the middle of the workout when it gets really intense; that light feeling afterwards, kind of like when you step off a treadmill after running for a while and you feel like you're walking really fast because you're too light. I was really motivated and had gotten in pretty good shape.
Theeeeeen the school year started and I started skipping days because I didn't have time, or work went too late and I didn't want to work out afterwards. For a while I worked out once or twice a week, and tried to do what I could during the days that I worked. I knew I should have been trying to do more, but I'd be tired and just not want to do anything, no matter how many times people tried to motivate me to work out with them. I'd tell them that it's not that big of a deal, because it's "just this one time I'm skipping, how much of a difference will it make?" Eventually it got to the point where I just wasn't doing anything except for the odd 50 pushups here and there, when I had a few minutes that I thought of to spare.
In the past few weeks I've been really feeling guilty about the fact that I've left off working out and getting into even better shape. My little sister, Trinity, and I have been trying to get started waking up early and working out before we start our day. She has no problem with waking up at 6am, and will get up and get ready and then come try to wake me up. I am not a morning person and, whenever she walks into my room and tells me to get up, I apparently engage her in some sort of debate as to why we should wait another half hour to an hour to work out. When I do eventually get up, she doesn't have enough time to do a full workout before her class starts and we'll end up doing Cardio Abs.
Today was actually the first day we did a full workout, plus Cardio Abs, yoga, and some meditation. And it was fricken great. I loved it. We're going to try to keep it going.

I didn't really have a point to all of this, it was really just to talk about working out. It's great. It's addicting. It definitely makes you a happier person if you're in shape and can eat like a horse and not care because of the working out that you do. When I was really into working out I ate constantly, I was more active, more outgoing. It was awesome. And I plan on getting back to that point.

Um, But Excuse You. And Me. And The Dog.

GIRLFRIEND. Or manfriend. Honestly, chances are that, if you and I were actually talking in person, I'd call you "girlfriend" regardless of your gender.

It's been a long fricken time since I wrote, and I think that I've really really missed it. I have so many opinions and ideas and thoughts and I'll be sitting in class and think, "Hey, that'd make a great blog topic," and then completely space on actually sitting down and writing something. None of those bored-of-listening-to-my-professor-talk-about-his-favorite-movie inspired topics exist in my mind anymore. But it's nearly two am, I'm listening to Eye Of The Tiger and am motivated to do everything. It doesn't matter that I was planning on being up at six am to work out with my little sister. I am motivated to write right now. (Which really sucks, I'm not gonna lie. It'd be nice to have this kind of motivation in the mornings.)

My only problem is finding an actual topic. I mean, I could tell you about what's been going on in life, but that's kind of lame. So many things have happened since I wrote last, and I deleted all of the posts that had been on this blog, except for one, and I'm not going to try to tell you about it all in some consolidated version. I have some really great stories to tell, and I don't want to shorten them.

Honestly, this post is probably going to be just a thing telling you that I'm not the greatest writer, I'm terrible at staying on topic, and my posts are typically pretty uninteresting. BUT I will do my best to keep you entertained and that's something, right? I'll tell you about my racist, rude, inappropriate Justice professor, or about the new, crazy friends I've made, or adventures I've had with my family. And it'll be awesome. I will make you love me. Maybe. Probably not. Chances are I'll weird you out and ramble and just not shut up and you'll be like, "Bro, let's get outta here, she be cray," and then I'll have to track you down and give you a cookie so you judge me less.

I'll figure it out. Tomorrow. After I get some sleep. And coffee.