10 Things I Hate About You, Buzzfeed.

I'm physically and mentally confused about BuzzFeed. My heart wants it, but my brain says, "You should be paying attention in this Statistics class with two projectors."

(WHY!!!)

It all started with my Statistics class in the Fall. It always does, doesn’t it? I realized I couldn't care less. Then there was the greatest distraction ever created, BuzzFeed. There were days I didn't even look up from my screen in class. WHY would I look at numbers AND LETTERS TOGETHER in an equation, when I could look at hundreds of corgis prancing together in unison on a beach for Corgi Beach Day?

(From the article "This Is What Happens When 318 Corgis Throw A Beach Party".)

All of a sudden, QUIZZES. SO MANY OF THEM. LET ME TAKE THEM ALL. I was taking quizzes and reading articles that DID NOT EVEN APPLY TO ME. Oh! "20 Ways You Know You're an English Major!" I'm not an English major, BUT I READ THE ARTICLE IN FULL. "What Color Lightsaber Would You Wield?" WHY NOT. I've never seen Star Wars, but I cannot move forward in life without knowing.

Why is it that we feel the need to RETAKE A QUIZ WHEN WE ARE NOT SATISFIED WITH OUR ANSWER? I recently became really upset over an answer I received on a quiz. Spiritually, it doesn't make any sense. Clearly I would be Mary-Kate over Ashley Olsen. I am so much more grunge and adventurous than an Ashley. The fact that I got Ashley makes me question who I truly am as a human being on this Earth. 

My whole life is a lie.

In contrast, when we get the answer we wanted...

It feels as though the universe and the planets are aligned for your God given grace. You get WAY TOO EXCITED, and slightly fake shocked. Honestly, you feel honored. It may even brighten up your day. You may even tell someone about it prompting their eye roll.

But now we have an earth-shattering problem. There are quizzes that are just LISTS of hundreds of things. I do not have time, the attention span to read a list of 100 things if I already know "How Much I Hate People!"

Alas, BuzzFeed is slowly killing the population, one quiz at a time.

In the end, all the hurt and heartache disappears in the grace of the Buzzfeed Animal and Food sections.

Blogging 101

To Whom It May Concern,

This is a letter to myself just incase I explode creating this blog. 

If you know anything about me you know that I have no perception of time. 

This MAN-MADE system has had me baffled since my early years as a child human. Even prompting me in 1st grade to get FULLY dressed the night before school, INCLUDING JEANS AND SNEAKERS, in an attempt to be on time the next day. 

(This plan failed because of the sneakers aspect, but you probably got that.)

Years later, I still have yet to grasp the idea of being on time. Mind you- I am Italian, and Italians are known for their tardiness. Probably because of the not-so-much-factored-in 10-minute "Catholic Guilt" trip/indecisiveness on just about everything before leaving the house. 

"Do I have to brush my hair for this?" 

Or-

"If it's in the 50's does that mean shorts and a jacket or pants and no jacket? What's the weather really going to be?" 

AND EVEN- 

"Do I have time to eat and brush my teeth or do I do them BOTH on the way?"

These questions remain unsolved in the universe.

Or maybe it's because I'm a woman, and we like to be fashionably late. However, I cannot use this excuse because of my frequently used "Roll and Go" system to class, or really anywhere. This is where you literally roll out of bed and just go.

(A portrait of me on a good day.)

Or maybe it's just because when I say, "I'm leaving" it actually means I'm waking up.

A friend once described the way I walk to class as "Someone who looks flustered trying to walk really fast, but since you are so small you don't really get anywhere." This is a great compliment, thank you.

The first step to anything is acceptance. I have accepted the fact that I will be late. But I'm hoping this blog can help me get my life together, be on time (because of the scheduling posts option) for at least one aspect in my life.

Peace and Love,
Tina