Procrastination

I have to admit that I learned a lot about being a sarcastic coffee-addict from those delightful Gilmore Girls. For those of you who lived under a rock for seven years, Gilmore Girls was a television show on the WB (later the CW) from 2000-2007. 

So, I'm going to steal some of Lorelai Gilmore's wit and wisdom today because it is a great example of how I feel right now. 

My brain is a wild jungle full of scary gibberish. I'm writing a letter, I can't write a letter, why can't I write a       letter? I'm wearing a green dress, I wish I was wearing my blue dress, my blue dress is at the cleaners. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue, 'Casablanca' is such a good movie. Casablanca, the White House, Bush. Why don't I drive a hybrid car? I should really drive a hybrid car. I should really take my bicycle to work. Bicycle, unicycle, unitard. Hockey puck, rattlesnake, monkey, monkey, underpants! 

There ya have it...I should be writing an essay, and I'm really good at writing essays, but my mind is on anything and everything BUT my essay. 

Oh, how I envy you!

I have no idea how people manage to find the time or energy for recreational reading in college! I obviously have time to blog, but blogging is mindless, and it really only takes me about 5-10 minutes to type one of these bad boys out. If I start reading a book and get really into it, I may never stop, and I will put off all my homework, which will then result in the demise of my collegiate success.
So, I ask you, blonde guy with the Commerce beanie, sitting in the awesomely comfortable-looking chair in the library, HOW DO YOU DO IT?? I'm jealous. And bitter. You suck.

Pumpkin Spice Latte=LOVE

Why is it that the best coffee is always found in or near the library on a college campus? Really, I'm intrigued. 
I mean, is it only that way for us bookworms? Curious, curious. Oh well, all I know is, if they don't have a library containing a bistro that serves awesome coffee in Heaven, then Heaven is no place for me. Kidding, of course, because I'm an angel. 
(Yea, go ahead and laugh.)
Anyway, for all you people out there who are trying to generate some creative idea for that fifteen-page paper that's due tomorrow, the library bistro is the place to be. Why do you think all those super debonair, artistic people hang out at Starbucks? Just a theory, and regardless of why they are actually hangin' out at Starbucks, I want to one day sit in (not secretly) on one of those intellectually stimulating, philosophical conversations that always take place between that guy with blacked rimmed glasses and that girl carrying a book of Sylvia Plath poetry. Seriously, next time you go to a coffee shop, look around for these two people. They will inevitably be sitting in a corner somewhere, too deep in conversation over why Sylvia stuck her head in an oven to notice that you're listening to them. 


Until next time, good luck on that paper, and enjoy your coffee. 

"Incubus of Viral Plague" ~Miranda Priestly

Yes, I realize that Miranda calling Emily an "incubus" was sort of a film goof in The Devil Wears Prada, hence the quotation marks.
I came back to my hometown for the weekend, and I must say that I do not miss the Southeast Texas allergies! I feel utterly disgusting. I can't breathe, my eyes are puffy and watering, and my head feels like it is going to explode. Oh, my, it is awful.
I will return to my lovely blog when I return to a state of health that allows a sufficient supply of oxygen to reach my brain.

Daydream Believer

I am currently sitting outside the Hall of Languages building, which is by far my favorite place on campus. Actually, it's the only building I walk into without a sense of utter dread. I love everything about the place, from the cracking sidewalk outside to the smell of aged, yellowing paper on the bookshelves in the lounge. 

On nights like tonight, I like to sit outside on the steps and gaze out over the lawn and just daydream. When I leave, I mentally hang all those dreams on a branch of one of the giant oaks and imagine that dream being swept away into the world with the changing leaves of fall. I imagine that way, when I leave here, my dreams won't stay behind; they'll just be waiting for me elsewhere. 

Maybe it sounds cheesy, but this is my idea of meditation. 

There are so many things I should have done...so many things I was capable of doing. When I was little, I always saw myself ending up in the Ivy League. I lost the GPA for that somewhere around my freshman year of high school. Way to go, Alyssa. Oh well, I may not have Harvard or Yale or Vassar, but I have my future, and all this dreaming is going to get me somewhere big. The way I see it, the possibilities are endless. 

EMPIRE STATE ON MY MIND

I want to move to New York. I want to be one of those Carrie Bradshaw wannabes who moves to New York to follow some crazy dream. In this case, I guess my crazy dream would be to become an editor or an associate editor...something like that. I think I need some adventure in my life. Who knows, maybe, just maybe, I'll end up writing a book. I think I need to experience a little bit of life before I venture down that road, though. I think writers write best when they can back their story up with some kind of life experience. I realize that JK Rowling didn't exactly attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the idea had to have come from somewhere, right? 

I want to be sitting in a little coffee shop reading the "Daily Something or Another" and have an idea just smack in the face. Wouldn't that be grand? 

I Don't Want to be Fanny Brice to Your Nicky Arnstein...

I'm one of those girls who grew up watching all these movies and reading all these books that basically give one a false sense of what life is really like.
Let's face it people: fairy tales and real life are like oil and water; they simply don't mix. Reality sucks. We all want to believe that we will have all the success and happiness in the world, but the cold hard truth is, not that many people are truly THAT happy.
Let me just take a moment to say that blogging is great because it allows one to express his or her thoughts and feelings, knowing that whoever chooses to read the blog will take into consideration that everyone is entitled to their own opinions and beliefs.
So, I continue to say that the majority of those people out there who say they are just pleased as punch with how their lives are going are lying. I didn't say the entirety of the population, just most of them...
Where is my confession in all this?
I confess that I'm not sure if I really believe in love. I mean, I feel love for my friends and family, but I'm not talkin' that kind of love. I'm talking the whole head over heels, totally euphoric "IN LOVE" feeling.
When I was five, I was in love with William Holden, followed by a brief crush on Fred Astaire. Damn those old movies. And, whatever happened to that guy from Breakfast at Tiffany's with the gorgeous blue eyes? Yep, safe to say I got all my ideas about that crazy little thing called love from the silver screen. My question to you: Does it really exist? I mean, REALLY?
I guess my expectations are too high. I really want the "everyone else in the room disappeared while some ridiculously cheesy love song played in the background" story to tell my grandkids someday.