Articulations from the Extroverted Introvert

…that’s all the time I have left on this computer at the library before they kick me off. Ready, Go!

Dear readers (all four of you),

My apologies for the seemingly abandonment of this blog. My number of readers I have had on wordpress has declined significantly in the past week or so. I can’t decide if it is because of spring break or the fact that I never post anymore due to not enough time and so much to do. Don’t worry though, soon I will have a sweet blog up for you because I thought it up already.

I wish you all a very wonderful spring break. Today, I decided to be brave and wear flip-flops with a pair of capris. Unfortunately, this led to a conversation with an interesting man who sat next to me at the library. He started it off all, “Ready for spring huh?” and then eventually led into telling me all this stuff about himself.

I’d be lying if I told you that I was perfectly comfortable about this. He asked questions about me, like where I went to school and the like. He even told me he thought I was in college (yay! You know this is a sensitive issue for me, especially since usually I am told I look 14) Then he asked where I learned to type so fast. A combination of school and work was my reply. He asked me about work and then went on to tell me he was a CEO of some companies in Las Vegas and needed an assistant.

At this point I was beginning to become slightly creeped out and also slightly embarrassed, I mean come on, this is a library, not a place for talking. I felt bad for the other people in the room, but was unable to be rude and ignore the man. He asked about where I would go to school. He even asked if I would want to go to Las Vegas to work. What!? GO AWAY! If you’ve ever read a blog of mine before then you would know that the italicized phrase was not what I actually said, but rather what I thought.

My back stiffened as I tried to concentrate on this lengthy application I was completing for a job this summer. He continued to interrupt with some sort of question or comment about how his ex-wife had a contract with the Jackson family in Las Vegas. I am not sure what sort of body language I was giving that was in any way encouraging him, but he continued nonetheless.

Thankfully, he left a little while ago, and I was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Now I have officially 30 seconds left and better leave before all of this little adventure is lost into the internet forever.

‘Til next time!

Samantha

So, from my post at the library, I am here to report about the first week in the apartment. I have learned many valuable things about living in an apartment and am here to educate all you suburban white people that have probably never set foot in one, unless you are counting the ones at college (totally doesn’t count).

For starters, things are slightly different altogether for me and my family as we have chosen the cheap way of living. No internet, 4 channels on the tv (thanks to my rabbit ears), no microwave, and a two bedroom space for all four of us. Not exactly “roughing it” however, most certainly not “living it up” either.

In my findings, it appears as though everyone who has never been to an apartment, much less lived in one, has this notion that apartments are a great place for parties and hang out. Totally not true. Maybe the million-dollar penthouse apartments in New York, but definitely not the ones normal people live in because they cannot afford a house. No, this is a cramped area that basically the whole time you are there you just want to find a corner to claim as your own because you can never truly get away from anyone. It’s alright, you didn’t know any better. I’ll admit that before moving there I had the idea that it would be small, but almost “cute and cozy.” Ahem…nope.

Each morning I am greeted by a black cat that seems to think the best way to introduce himself is by hissing at me before retreating underneath to a nearby car. Having never found cats to be particularly attractive or appealing, that cat better hope it never runs under my car, because it may not ever return. (okay…that’s a little bit of sarcasm there, but really it does not start my morning off right).

I have acquired many keys now. You must have a key for both the entry door and the apartment door. This can become a serious inconvenience at times. Also, remember that the main door is shared by who knows how many other people.

The narrow hallways remind me of a rundown hotel, dimly lit by annoying fluorescent lights. Walking past each room allows you to hear a bit of their lives for a moment, just like they can hear yours. All times during the day and the night you hear someone walking around, opening/shutting a door, or bounding down the stairs. What’s weird though is that until today I had never even seen anyone else on our floor, and today I just saw some lady taking the trash out to the dumpsters outside. We said hello but that was the extent of our meeting. I really would like to meet someone interesting.

It’s been weird, but I don’t have time to elaborate further due to a great deal of homework I must do before leaving the library in order to watch tonight’s new episode of Grey’s Anatomy! Woo! More about the apartment later…

Who doesn’t like long walks on the beach? I ask this because often when trying to describe oneself and possibly hint at romanticism, long walks on the beach always seems to be mentioned. Well ya know what? It doesn’t help describe yourself at all!

Lyrics are not there because I am exhausted in every sense of the word

41 results for: home

“the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered”
- Dictionary.com

There are 41? Really? How can that be?

How come I don’t know what mine is?
Or where mine will be?

Lyrics from The Only Living Boy in New York by Simon & Garfunkel

Everyone wants to know what celebrity they look like…that way when someone compares you to a celebrity you know if they are being honest or trying compliment you/insult you. Here are the ever-flawed results for a few different pictures of me:

Yeah, I just don’t see it.

Lyrics from Seem to Be by LaRue

When reading a book, watching a movie, or even listening to a song, you tend to find some sort of connection. You relate to the words/characters/situation in some way, shape, or form. Suddenly, you find yourself living through the book/movie/song. You become what is being described for minutes or hours as you watch, read, and listen. You are so immersed in what is happening that you almost forget it is not your own life. Something about it is so real to you, it’s as if it was written for you and about you, only you.

You wonder if your life will turn out just like it does in the story.

Then, you worry it won’t.

Lyrics from Soundtrack to Your Life by Ashley Parker Angel

Previously said:
“You’re such a mom”
“Thanks Mom“
“You are going to make the greatest mom”
Quotes such as these I have heard many times. The past two days, I had judges scoring me on such ability.

The case:Jack Ramone, a 17-year-old boy died in a local club two years ago when a fire broke out at a concert. Why? A number of reasons of course, which is why it was a case to try. His lungs were full of smoke, being the actual cause of death, however all other patrons in attendance were able to exit the burning building in time. Jack was drunk and “chose” to go back into the building (to steal a guitar according to the defense).

Who’s to blame: The owner of the club, Hilly Glass, is one candidate. While she did all she was absolutely required to do, there were many safety suggestions made to which she did not adhere. The pyrotechnic display put on by the band, The Dutch Masters, which caused fire to catch onto the curtains was really not legal as the clubs license only allowed small-scale fireworks. The display of fireworks, especially the Spinner-Saxon effect was more of a medium-scale. Hilly Glass needed to update the curtains as they were old. Then there’s Jack, the one who is now dead, who made a conscious decision to return to the burning building.

Who testified:Jack’s best friend - Melanie, the fire inspector - Fran, the club owner - Hilly, the pyrotechnic expert - Stacey, the lead singer of the band - Rem Brandt (yeah that’s embarrassing), and finally the mother of Jack - Josephine Ramone.

The verdict: Every single judge and attorney we tried this case with, as well as those watching, wanted me to be their mom.

“If I ever died, I’d want you to be my mother.”
- Judge and actual real-life attorney

Final Score: We won our first two rounds at the district Mock Trial competition, advancing us to playoffs. Once at playoffs we competed against a well-prepared team (we only practiced once, the night before districts…most teams practice multiple times a week for months, they certainly did). The trial went on for three hours with only a combined total of twelve minutes for breaks. In the end, their score outweighed ours sending them to the state competition, which half of our team wouldn’t be able to attend anyway due to a show choir competition.

Last Thoughts: Mock Trial has been quite the experience the last four years of high school. I’m glad to have participated but also glad it is over. It was odd to think that our last trial has been tried and never again will I enter a courtroom to compete. Goodbye objections. Goodbye stammering opening statements. Goodbye unfitting business suits on high school students. Goodbye courtroom procedures. Goodbye fake introductions between teams. Goodbye eleven-hour trial days. Goodbye Iowa Mock Trial coordinator - John Wheeler. Goodbye horribly cheesy jokes uttered by John Wheeler. Goodbye ginormous case binders. Goodbye enlarged exhibits.

Goodbye Mock Trial

Lyrics from Mother, We Just Can’t Get Enough by New Radicals