crack rock run

I’ve always been a procrastinator. I hate doing things when they have to be done. Especially when it comes to school.

In Undergrad, I was always pretty good at getting my shiz done, but since I lived so close to campus, I could work up until right before class started and just print my paper out – turn it in and check it off my list.

But now, in Graduate school, I find myself procrastinating still – but it’s not the same. These papers are harder, and my professors are scary and one of them even knows the researcher whose paper I’m critiquing. WTF!?

How am I supposed to write shit like “Her discussion of student’s cultural connections was broad and largely underdeveloped” — which it was!!

So, I do things like what I’m doing now. I’m blogging and getting ready to go for a run. I effing hate running. I only do it to avoid things I hate.

Maybe if I go out and get some crack rock on my run, I can come back and pound it out before class, yeah?

Alright, wish me luck.

loathing in pdx

No matter how much I’ve learned about myself in the past few years, I am coming to realize that I really do care what people think about me.

So much so that I do things purely for the fear of what others would think of me if I didn’t.

Like today, I ordered tomatoes on my sandwich. I hate tomatoes. A lot.

But I got them because I felt judged for getting a turkey sandwich with only lettuce. So I sprinted back to my office to pick off the vile red fruit before they soaked their devil poison into my wheat bread.

I hate myself.

murder! missing! wanted! ghosts!

I think I’ve got a problem.

It’s not my love of cheap wine or prescription drugs or even my obsession with those tiny eraser tips on pencils. It’s far more embarassing.

I can’t stop … watching … the new Unsolved Mysteries.

I know! It’s ridiculous! I mean, Robert Stack isn’t there – why the fuck would anyone watch it!? I don’t even understand it myself – but I’ll be god damned if I don’t watch three straight hours of it on the days I have off work.

Sure, I should be writing a paper or working on a presentation. But I’m watching the new ‘old guy’ from Law & Order [sure, his name is Dennis Farina, but I won't tell you I know that] show old re-creations of the ghostly apparitions in Lizzy Borden’s home!

I dare each and every one of you to go to that website and NOT stay on it for five hours to see if you know any of the missing persons or convicted murderers on the loose.

I can’t stop.

But I guess I don’t really wanna.

quick and dirty

If you live in Portland and want to hang out with me on Wednesday, BUY TICKETS AND COME TO THIS.

Due to looming project deadlines, and being distracted by my Mom’s recent surgery, I have nothing fun to write about.

GIVE ME A BREAK!

That is all.

winners never quit … because, well, they’re winners

Today, I saw this on the internets. The woman who has set the record for the longest nails in the world has been in a car wreck — which shattered her precious nails.

(Photo via Perez Hilton, which I say because I don’t want to get sued)

And it made me think: Why don’t I set a world record?

It can’t be that hard – I mean, in seventh grade I set the Evergreen Middle School record for Chubby Bunny with a whopping 46 marshmallows in my fat face.

So, I’m trying to collect ideas for a record I can set.

Current Ideas:

• Concurrent snide remarks about other’s clothing
• Sour Patch Kids eaten before throwing up
• Longest eyelashes
• Fattest middle right toe

Any other ideas? Please send them to me.

I am desperate to win.

thanks, uggo

I saw a girl wearing a poncho just now.

A crocheted poncho. In deer-murderer-orange.  Beads dangled from its frayed ends.

This delightfully deranged woman was pairing said poncho with WHITE SKINNY JEANS.

Everyone … it is snowing today on the PSU campus. Big fatty snowflakes. And this woman is wearing a year-round monstrosity.

Sitting in my ivory tower wearing a delightful French cut jacket in peacock blue — I feel pretty good about myself.

Thanks, uggo.

dream meagan sucks

As a child, I had incredibly vivid dreams. In Technicolor. With sparkles and three dimensions and intricate landscapes.

I had happy dreams with magical creatures, and Princes to sweep me off my feet [Yes, I had more than one. Whatever].

Even my scary dreams ended eventually, as my blood curdling screams usually sent my Dad into my room to tell me everything would be okay, and that the bad people weren’t real. I would curl up into a ball, and fall back to sleep – forgetting slowly whatever had woken me in the first place.

As an adult, I don’t dream the same way. I often forget what my dreams are, the next day only recalling tiny segments – all of which are in black and white. Sometimes I don’t remember anything – waking up thinking solely about the work I have to do that day.

Last night, however, I had a dream that was just like the ones I had as a kid. There were bright colors and textures, and everything seemed so real. Then, the dream turned sour when I hit someone with my car. Yes, I said it.Dream  Meagan killed someone with her car in her horrible, no good dream.

After I hit the man, I sat in my car. Just sat. Staring. And waiting for the cops. WTF!? Real Meagan would NEVER sit and wait for the cops. For any of you that know me, you understand that I would automatically begin a high speed chase of sorts, and end up dying in a firey ball of mangled metal. Duh.

In my dream, I eventually got out of my car and walked home. Left my car with a dead man under it. No witnesses. Dream Meagan then got into her apartment and Googled “Oregon Manslaughter Charges.”

Genius, Dream Meagan. YOU KNOW THEY CAN SEE YOU DID THAT WHEN THEY CONFISCATE YOUR COMPUTER!

So, of course, the police came and Dream Meagan was arrested. Crying all the while, but saying nothing. She didn’t even flash the cops to get a break! We are nothing alike.

It was 6:45 and my alarm went off. I sat up, looked around, and realized I felt the exact same weight on me that I did in the dream. I was anxious and paranoid.

It is 9:03 a.m. and I am still uneasy. I feel guilty and sick to my stomach.

When you’re a kid, even if your dreams are scary – you don’t know enough about the world to imagine some of the horrible things you do as an adult. And often, there is someone there to tell you it’s okay.

But now, I’m sitting in my big office, wishing I could curl up with my blankie and forget it ever happened.

how to be interesting

Well, it’s effing raining again.

But it’s not the pouring rain that causes mass panic and puddles one must jump across.  It’s the kind of annoying rain that makes you feel vulnerable like a baby fern being beaten down by a sprinkling of dew. And if you wear your North Face jacket’s hood up, or pop out that umbrella of yours – you’re a pussy. An Oregon pussy.

I don’t want to be an Oregon pussy, kids.

So it is days like today when I decide I don’t need lunch. So I stay in my office, look out the window, wrap my American Apparel cardigan around my mid-section and laugh at people less dry than I.

But it’s not just about rain today. It’s about me. Lying.

I had hoped that by today, I’d have a great story to blog about, like I promised in my last post. I understand that it sounded like I had a story in mind before. But I didn’t. So I lied.

I lied because my life doesn’t seem very interesting anymore, all. Maybe because all the stories of crazy people and awkward situations start to blend together. Maybe because I have had a little bit of the winter blues. Maybe because I am more of a homebody than I’d like to be.

So – I have to come up with some more interesting shit. To help me become more noteworthy, I have decided I’m going to become a heavy drug user.

I know, I know, it seems sudden! But I think this is going to go really well, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Thank you in advance for your well wishes, and I look forward to including you all in this next step in my life.

update: i enjoy brussel sprouts

I’m an awful, horrible Portlander for not updating my blog in so long. Also, my roomie has openly whined about my lack of posts. I feel an obligation for the ten of you who occasionally peep UC to update you on my life.

1. Portland has been abnormally beautiful. Which has led me to smoke more cigarettes while I walk in the sun. It’s a double-edged sword, some would say.
2. I had a tiny crisis at work – and thought I was losing my job. However, I have reclaimed my title as an important player in the team. I feel much better.
3. Roomie and I got new downstairs neighbors yesterday- 2 chick-a-dees, one cute nerdy boy. I am anticipating hilarious posts regarding them … because I think they’re secret freaks. And stoners, I’m guessing.
4. My boobs have grown. If any of you have met me in person, you understand why I am becoming concerned.
5. I just got a new prescription for that delicious Lorazepam that I need in order to keep from killing every stupid person I come into contact with on a daily basis – which can be around 20-80, give or take 50.
6. I’m attempting photography for the first time.
7. I recently discovered that I like brussel sprouts.

Okay, okay – so tomorrow or Friday I will come back with a hilarious story that I want to write about, just so I can print out my post and scrapbook it for my children and grandchildren to read one day.

It’s that good.

XOXO