SLShawaii8831's Xanga

Haven't been on here in too long, and as a result...

Sat, 01 Aug 2009 20:44:14 GMT

I'm EXTREMELY frustrated. Can't figure out how to change my page color/title header.

Back in Business

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 21:59:24 GMT

I'm Back!

Was so amped to see that my link still works.

I think I've been a xanga member now for like 6 years?

I'll be updating this more in regards to all my acting and life stuff.

Back to studying and then getting ready for work.

<3 S

Being One of the Boys vs Being "A Girl"

Mon, 18 Dec 2006 00:49:35 GMT

I had the BIGGEST reality check of my entire life on Thursday during a talk with Shelley. Totally bizarre.

I kinda wanted to blog about it, but it's not myspace appropriate. It could be, but I have a feeling the people that would read it wouldn't know what to think. And sometimes it's better to keep contemplative reflection on the low.

So here is the issue. For pretty much as long as I could remember, I've been "one of the boys". I'm not necessarily boy-ish, I just wasn't viewed as "hot" and being an athlete, I hung out with boys as much as girls. It wasn't weird. It was a boys coming over at 11pm on a saturday to watch cartoon network with me kind of thing. It didn't occur to me that that isn't how guys view me now. And, apparently they don't. I am as far from one of the guys as you could get in a lot of their eyes, and I just don't get it.

I could still outsprint (unless you have a lot of heighth on me, cuz that's an unfair advantage), outjump, out-pretty much anything, most guys. I know how to change a tire, check oil, use a drill, plunge a toilet, etc. I can do lots of "boy" things... My love of the color pink and other girl habits are a manifestation of my rebellion of the stereotype that good athletes are manly. As an athlete, and one of the boys, I wanted to still have my girl side. I'd compete with ribbons in my hair. And yes, if I'm going out, I'm going to wear heels. But that doesn't mean I'm a different species of human.

Just because I may wear polka dots or ribbons or heels doesn't mean I can't use a beer bong like a champ. Idk... In some ways I'm glad to know that I was wrong about how boys view me because suddenly so much makes sense now, but it's such as HUGE surprise to me that I'm not sure how to deal with it. It's not that there's anything that I can do, but it's hard not to be disappointed.

It's like a vote of underestimation. If you're one of the boys, you can be treated like a human. The boys aren't afraid to call each other, they'll invite each other to do stuff w/o a second thought. You in your underwear or changing clothes- not an issue. If you're just a girl to the boys though... It's different. Suddenly they're not all comfortable around you, they feel the need to give you their bed if you crash at their place, physical contact is bad because "they can't handle it" or "don't want to put themselves in that position." Suddenly you're something to be bragged about, discussed... If you have to change clothes and you're "a girl", not only will a guy who views you that way not just turn around, they'll leave the room. Compared to being one of the boys, it's bizarre.

When you have a personality and you're one of the boys, it's nothing notable. If you're "a girl", and it's discovered you have a personality, or maybe just a brain, suddenly you're "cooler than hell." Really? Because maybe you think I'm cute you don't expect me to have a sense of humor? Seriously?

I'm frustrated.

Dangerous

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 02:49:15 GMT

I am bored. Not just bored, but bored out of my mind bored. I pretty much never get bored, but when I do, i'm ASTOUNDINGLY bored. This kind of boredom is dangerous. It's dye my hair bored. It's a good thing I'm on duty, or I would definetely see about getting some hair dye. Just dark brown- I'm not that dangerous. My brown is fading and it could use some oomph. Maybe I'll shower (since I only do that when I'm bored) and use self tanner and flatten my hair and do my nails. I don't like doing any of those things but I'm bored enough to do it. Then I'll look cute for tomorrow, tomorrow being Thursday. ...Something fantastic better be happening Thursday.

RA life has been busy and stressful. It's midterm time, but I took mine already. It's like the calm before the storm or something- and I just might lose my mind and create my own storm. Not in a bad way, but I definetely need to get dressed up and do something fun tomorrow. I sat in the library today. And I didn't even have HOMEWORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That was a terrible terrible idea, and my day has been boring ever since.

I think the term is burn out. I am BURNT OUT. Holy cow. It's bad.

Don't get too excited...

Sat, 02 Sep 2006 05:44:19 GMT

I can't believe it's been since January when I wrote on here. I probably shouldn't write on here when I'm trying to stay awake, I end up typing things I want to delete when I see them later. Here I am again, though, trying to stay awake. It's not late at all, barely past 11pm, but I am so tired. I'm an RA in campus housing here, and I have 2 sets of rounds to go before I can go to sleep.

Just finished my first week of classes, and my schedule is disastrous and no where near complete. I haven't unpacked since I moved in 3 weeks ago... Imagine living out of 5 boxes. There is clothing and school materials everywhere. It'd be nice if I could say that something exploded, if there was a legitimate reason for the mess, but I can't. I've just been too busy, and when I'm not busy, I'm too exhausted to do anything, let alone think about organizing. The fact that I've gone a month without doing any laundry is barely short of amazing. I still have clean undies left, so I have a while to go in that aspect, but unless I want to start wearing thermal shirts to class, it's nearly time.

That is an exaggeration. I'm prone to exaggeration when I pontificate on here. I don't know why. Maybe it's because there's no one to tell me that I'm not telling the truth. It is an exaggeration that I have nothing left but thermal shirts. I have plenty of sorority shirts left, workout shirts (which I can get away with wearing since I'm a kinesiology major), and other shirts, but I do have a good 4 or 5 thermal shirts, also. I like my exaggerating. In real life, there's people to tell me, "No, that cockroach was NOT the size of an orangutang, nor was it the size of a refrigerator." I do wear glasses, but they're not the kind that magnifies. I know it's not literally that big, but it gets the point across that perhaps that cockroach was larger than necessary.

Maybe xanga is to sascha what journals are to... people who write in journals. I really like xanga-ing. It allows me to focus solely on one thing thing- making coherent, possibly creative, statements. Any thoughts of what asinine thing I did most recently are relegated to the recesses of my brain for the time being and I type nearly stream of consciousness, only not really, because I don't imagine that being logical.

I'm going to venture into vagueness for a bit. I wonder if anyone really knows that they're making the right choices in life. My theory is that people don't. Rather than wonder if they've made the right choice, they make the choice that seems best short and long term, and then lie in the bed they've made. What's to say what the right choice is long term, though? No one knows what the future holds, and life as you know it may be on its side, and that right choice is now wrong. (I lost myself there for a second with that sentence, but I'm back.) Are stupid short term choices always stupid? Can they every become smart? Why is hindsight 20/20? I just flashed on the fact that I've been in the same position now as I've been before. My old old xanga posts from when I first began posting bear a resemblance in nature to this one- at least to this paragraph. Will I always repeat myself? Probably not. Odds are, I'm just too tired. When people get too old to drive, the DMV takes away their drivers license. When I get too tired, someone should revoke my thinking license.

I'm going to go on rounds now. I hope it's calm so I can go right to sleep for an hour or so before my last set. If you read through this entire post, you're very cool.

Mental Vomit

Fri, 13 Jan 2006 10:46:26 GMT

If you're looking for something interesting to read, this is probably not it. I'm just looking for ways to spend until 7AM when I get off work.

I didn't know MySpace closes down nightly between 2 and 4 AM. Probably because I usually have better things to do between those hours. Like sleep. (Side note: Is it allowed to say "MySpace" on Xanga? It seems a little wrong, like admitting to liking men at a lesbian convention. I think I'm safe, though, because this would be the world's smallest convention. And there aren't any lesbians present.)

So I've started working out again after one long hiatus. Working out and I have a sort of abusive relationship. Maybe we take a break, but you know eventually I'll come back for more. That, and I have my materials for getting my personal training certification in the mail, and, well, who wants Shamu for their personal trainer. To be clear, I'm not the size of Shamu, which is really a good thing because I would have lot of work to do. Namely, see about obtaining a set of legs.

It wasnt just that MySpace is Undergoing Maintenance, I planned to get back to Xanga-ing, anyway. This just happened to make me do it now versus eventually. Xanga and I are old pals. I've had this page for nearly 3 years. Not that I'm bragging or anything. Okay, maybe it's more like 2 1/2, but either way, we go way back. I like a few things about MySpace, namely keeping in touch with people. Or, kind of. If you count adding someone, never talking to them, and eventually deleting them as a method of keeping in touch. I can't possible fathom why I encouraged my sister and brother to join. (We're going to church for a second here: I'd like to thank MySpace for making my brother computer literate. He couldn't even type before MySpace. I'm not sure he even knew how to use Google. Amen.) They were both the "I'm never gonna do that" type that eventually joins and whores out with the best of them.

The thing about high schoolers is that moderation isn't exactly a key word. My brother MySpaces like it's going out of style. At home, there is one "family computer". I think perhaps they were curious about what was eating so much of my brother's time. Long story short... You know those people that whore to the point of actually referencing MySpace in daily conversation and extrapolating data into meaningful, significant fact? My mom is now one of them. I warned my mother about the dangers of MySpace whoring. I was completely and utterly shocked when she referenced a comment left on one of my blogs, for myriad reasons. Among them are the fact that I had no idea what comment she was referencing, the fact that mentioning a comment on someone else's page is way stalkerish, and the fact that somehow, she actually spent time enough on my page to read my blog comments. I think that in order to get the wrong idea about something, a person has to take the time to think about whatever it is at all. And who thinks comments are remotely serious??? These are the dangers of parents MySpacing. Maybe it's that it's 335 AM, but that is one absurd story. Kind of grosses me out. Is it possible to be stalked by your parents?

My toes are asleep on my right foot. Rockstar doesn't keep your toes awake. So anyway, I still have my haven in Xanga. Well, I'm going to see about changing my page colors and such. I'd change my pic, but I'm not in my room. I'll get to that in good time, my friends. (What am I kidding, I have no readers anymore!)

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 21:02:26 GMT

I haven't been on here in forever. That's pretty much all I have to say.

I have a sinus infection. Yuck.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Tue, 04 Jan 2005 05:38:34 GMT

I suppose I should state that I lie on here. Frequently. That would only really matter if there were people that read this. Well, more than one. But lies are good for you. They're like prunes for your digestive track. It keeps everything moving along, fibrously. I think I made up a new word perhaps. Fibrously. I like it.

So I spent the week away, in NorCal. I went shopping at three different abercrombies (we'll get to my addictions later) and had a very sad discovery. There is not ONE single hot person in all of northern cal, and so there are no hot people to work in those abercrombie's, either. It was so sad. I mean that seriously. It's like, a law, that to work in abercrombie, you must be hot, and by hot, naturally, not like, painted on. (Which is why the highlight of my LIFE is being asked to work in the A&F at 3rd Street Promenade in November. I'm shallow, but I make no apologies, and shall probably refer to this moment often, as it had such an impact on my life thus far.) In NorCal, not only were these people not hot, there were instances of painted on-ness. I have to change the subject, as these memories pain me.

My addictions. I only have two. The first is A&F, which I just mentioned. The second is Starbucks. If I happen to see one (doesn't happen much out here in the AV/Mojave Desert), I am PULLED towards it. It's like the arrow towards the North on a compass. I. Must. Go. This gets pricey when I go into developed countries, but at least it's morally sound. (I ignore the concept of gluttony here.)

I dropped my tv today. The silver flat screen monitor tv (not flat screen plasma, a flat screen monitor) I got for christmas year before last (not counting this one just past). I was rearranging furniture and i didn't realize it was hanging by the cable. I thought it was sitting on my dresser, and I was trying to unhook my dvd players. As I'm fiddling with that, the tv fell. From a height of nearly 5 feet. It just fell, face first, and made the BIGGEST crashing noise. I fell to my knees, like I'd been SAVED, and placed my hands on the tv so I could use my healing powers. I must have good karma or something, because it still works perfectly. The cable ripped in half, but my dad fixed it as he is a superhero, also.

I watched this E! True Hollywood Story last night on Mary Kay LeTourneau. I was trying to figure what kind of twelve year old would be "mature" enough to diddle his teacher. The kid's name is Vili Fualaau. They never actually addressed the subject, but as evidenced by his name, he is a poly. (Polynesian.) Not to stereotype, (I'm TOTALLY stereotyping) but poly's are fully matured by the age of six. They're the epitome of OG's. Even the young ones. So that explains why he placed a bet with his cousin (first one to do their teacher wins $20) and won.

Yes, I was watching E!. I don't have class until February 14th. Since all I have is track practice in the afternoons, I'm making myself manically busy. I don't know how to do nothing. Today I rearranged all the furniture in my room and cleaned it. I'm going to start baking again. Last year I decided to learn to cook. I didn't get past baking, but I'm damn good at that. I'm going to use both my Easy Bake Oven and the real one.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Tue, 21 Dec 2004 00:46:13 GMT

I updated the photo link over there <------ by where it says "my website". The old link had really old photos, and I had to get rid of some of them since I don't like getting hives.

I got hives once. I had 8 teeth extracted exactly 2 years ago (not today, but this month) and they gave me these pills so my face didn't puff, and it didn't puff, but they did give me hives. My whole body itched. It was astounding how much I itched. I think I could survive itching powder quite well after having hives.

The colors on my page are really obnoxious, but I like them.

My hands smell fiercely like Armor All. I finally got around to detailing the inside of my car. Some jerk accidentaly rubbed lube on the inside of one of the doors, and I'd rather not have the inside of my car smelling like Trojan Magnums, so I got down to bidness and I cleaned out el coche. (Coche is car, not cooch, just to clear things up.)

I have a baby turtle named Touchdown, and if he doesn't quit pooping, I'm gonna have to potty train him. )I decided that he's a guy because he eats A LOT. And he poops A LOT.) He's REALLY cute, but this whole pooping thing has gotten out of hand. I have a picture of him that I'll put up on the photo page soonish. It's him trying to climb out of his little habitat, which is the lid of a Costco cake container. (One day, like TOMORROW with the way he's eating and growing, I'm going to get him a big aquarium and another baby turtle so he has a friend. I'm going to name the next turtle Field Goal.)

Time to go eat my mac n cheese n tuna. I always quit typing because I'm hungry. It's like the game, hungry hungry hippo, but I'm hungry hungry sascha.

Monday, December 20, 2004

Mon, 20 Dec 2004 01:50:24 GMT

Ok so I lied. I'm not such a traitor after all. (Wait maybe I am, I'm just wishy washy on top of being a traitor.) I'm back. I am just too self centered for MySpace. It's fun because it put me back in touch with people that I'd wondered about how they're doing, but since I've asked how they're doing and I KNOW, now what? I don't care!

Also, there are the people that I'm happy to see, yes, but what about all the assholes? Someone must have sent out a memo to all the high school popularity hounds, because suddenly I was getting friend requests from the friends of my aquaintances. In the case of MySpace, the more friends you have, the more popular you are. So, I went and deleted somewhere around a third of my "friends" because honestly, they weren't all my FRIENDS. NO ONE has 483 friends. BUT. Having 483 pictures of people on your site makes you cool. So does typing everything LiKe ThIs. In neon. And having the word bitch or slut numerous times on your page, in reference either to your self, or your enemies. Because everyone cares. I mean, really, isn't having inordinate amounts of drama around yourself the sign of a TRULY popular person?

Did I ever mention that I don't like people?

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I watched too much Ace Ventura this weekend. Having spent most of it in bed, I watched continuous reruns of both Ace Ventura movies on TBS, and have started talking like him. I told my brother earlier that I was going to urinate and get myself some more beverages, after thanking him (for nothing). What the hell kind of sentence was that? They only THINK that after the age of 14 nothing you see on tv influences you.