Ladies, let's put on some pants.

If I had to pick one word to describe the fashions sported by the women of the University of the Tundra with whom I attend college it would be uniform. A good 60% of the girls you pass walking through campus will be wearing the same thing and it is terribly difficult when entering a sorority house to distinguish one sister from another. While I am against uniformity in terms of fashion (our catholic school days are over, ladies), I have (somewhat ashamedly) noticed the practical and comfortable benefits of Ugg boots (however hideous) and have too jumped on the North Face bandwagon. There are some trends, however, that not only do I refuse to participate in, but mock those who do. For instance, ladies, there is absolutely no need to go tanning SO much that your skin turns orange. This is not a natural skin color, which should suggest to you this is not healthy. You will have wrinkles before you graduate and skin cancer before your children enter kindergarten. The American Skin Cancer Society has a great website. Please check it out, and note, we live in the tundra, where our skin is supposed to be white.

However, Ugg boots and obsessive compulsive tanning are not the point of this blog entry. I want to discuss the newest pant trend: leggings. Leggings can be a very cute and comfortable alternative to skinny jeans and can be paired well with long sweater and boots. There is one way however, that leggings should not be worn: as pants. Unless you are wearing a top that covers your buttocks, you should not be wearing leggings. No one wants to see the dimples in your butt cheeks or, even worse yet so obvious one stares at it like a car crash, the ever-present camel toe. Ladies, you look ridiculous, and no one wants to see your vagina lips, so let's make everyone happy and put on a pair of jeans. If you are having trouble giving up your leggings as pants, please feel free to join my sister and my foundation, the Leggings Are Not Pants Awareness Association (LANPAA) support group. However, if you are wearing tights as pants, you need far more help than I can give you and need not attend meetings.

Also, it is important to note that unlike being referred to by the entire administrative staff by your peoplesoft number rather than your name, wearing leggings is not a right, it is a privilege that can be revoked. If you are of a certain body type, you should not be wearing leggings (whether as properly outlined above or as pants) AT ALL. You are causing yourself unnecessary ridicule and embarrassment, so please don a pair of sweats, which leave more rolls to the imagination.

Ladies of the Tundra: unite as we fight for the extinction of the camel toe by promoting responsible legging wear. It is a far off dream, but possible if we work together and take our mission one pair of pants at a time.

first week shenanigans

The first week of classes is always interesting. Meeting new teachers, mastering a new schedule, checking out the new hot coeds in the back row. There's the classes that you know as soon as you walk in the room you are going to drop, and try to sneak out without even taking a syllabus. And then there are the classes you get stuck in.

My medieval teacher handed out an Anglo-Saxon riddle and asked the class to read it and try and solve it. First thing he did. I read the poem through, twice, three times, then look nervously around the room wondering if anyone else has gotten that this is DEFINITELY about a penis or if I just have a dirty mind. Neanderthal (as Mr. Medieval will henceforth be referred to) spends the rest of the class discussing the phallic imagery as the penis becomes erect and unerect. CREEPY.

Onto Quantitative Analysis in Political Science. All group projects (aka DROP IMMEDIATELY) but the interesting thing lies in the professor, as I am still wondering if he has a terrible Eastern European accent or a lisp. Group projects + uncomprehendable teacher = not for Molly.

Now, if Neanderthal will cease lecturing to solely me for uncomfortable periods of time and the University of the Tundra will get a bubble over it with heating as well as develop a system of communication between departments (email, people, email) I may not have meltdowns this semester over the impossibility of this school to function in a manner acceptable to Molly. Not holding my breath.

Check Fraud

For me, like millions of other college students, money is, well, tight. As time goes on I find it more and more necessary to be able to laugh at my financial situation or I am bound to lose my mind and either start selling my body or planting Benjamin's in my backyard hoping that money tree my parents speak of will start to grow. And this past week's financial who-ha's are certainly humorous.

Last Friday my roommate, Bri, calls me up and tells me ( the only roommate living at our apartment at the time since others have gone home on break while I have been banished to the dungeon for torture via poetry every morning at 9am) that she has forgotten to pay her rent and will I please go into her room and forge a check and drop it off at the office. No problem. When I get home later, Cooper has to pee, per usual, so I run upstairs, grab the check, scribble Briana Hog (long story) on a check and run out with Coop to the office. When I come back there is a note on my bedroom door from roommate #3 (Colleen) that I was rushing too much to see before stating that she has also stopped by and forged a check for Bri. GREAT.

This brings us to the "this shit only happens to me" and "you can't make this up" portion of the program. Apparently when I went home to get my new checks I grabbed the ones from my old checking account, which, surprise, no longer exists. Thus, surprise! and lucky for me! all my bills for January bounced. And what could be more calming for a busy student living paycheck to paycheck than realizing not only does she have to spend the time and aggravation to sit on hold to talk to (insert raspy fat secretary voice here) customer service representatives who couldn't give a flying rat's ass about my dilemma but doing so while wondering where all those service charges for bounced checks are going to come from. Time to throw in the towel and start stripping.

Anyways, so I go down to the rent office to explain my situation to our own slightly plump secretary who looks up our account and tells me, "Hmm. This is odd. Your rent is all paid for this month for that apartment." And then it dawns on me. Bri paid twice. Now I am very quickly trying to think of a scapegoat story to prevent all three of us from becoming cellmates (I am very partial to my own room, thank you) for check fraud and slightly plump is looking more plump as she stares me down suspiciously for an explanation until I finally burst out with, "Oh, you know, one of my roommates isn't really all there (making the spinning motion with my finger next to the side of my head that denotes craziness), she may have paid her rent twice this month, she's pretty forgetful, side effect of being dropped as a baby I think, plus she's blonde." REALLY plump gives me a "Uhuhhh" nod and rolls her eyes a little before accepting my new check.

Moral of the story, be very careful when writing checks. Please obey all federal laws and write only from accounts that actual exist. Your story may not be as funny as mine; you may actually end up in jail with a biker "chick" cellmate named Bertha.

Also, Bri is actually a highly intelligent doctoral student, who, although she is actually blonde, she is more of the Elle Woods type who kicks ass and takes names.

trust, betrayal, love...hope?

Graham Greene once wrote, "The only love which has lasted is the love which has everything, every disappointment, every failure and every betrayal, which has excepted even the sad fact that in the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship."

Perhaps all I truly ever wanted was companionship. To simply have another living soul there to share my triumphs and my sorrows with, to be there on the good days and the bad days, as Peyton says to Lucas, “to be there standing next to me when all my dreams came true.” I think everyone wants that innately; all we all really want is to come home to: a lover, a roommate, a pet, a family, whatever, waiting for and happy to see us. Given the choice between going to bed alone and falling asleep next to someone who loves us I think we would all choose the latter.
Maybe all we really want is someone to take away that feeling that we are all alone in the world.

Or perhaps it was more. All I know is I gave my heart completely and totally. I did what all the books and movies and grown-ups who had loved and lost had told me to do. I put myself out there, and I truly and utterly allowed myself to be consumed with the intoxication of love; I put my foot down on the accelerator and speed forward fearlessly without once consulting the rearview mirror. Would I take it all back, knowing what I know now? I think I would have been a little more cautious, a little less blinded, a little more conscious of the pain that ensues once trust is lost. But maybe as T.H. White said, "Perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically to those who hardly think about us in return."

Once trust is lost and the knowledge of the pain of betrayal replaces the intoxication of love consuming the soul, it is impossible to imagine the reverse will ever occur again. Ignorance is truly bliss; once we are robbed of innocence and taught of the pain and suffering that can occur in love, is it possible that we will ever be able to experience again a love so intense, so raw, and so pure? Was the innocent love of Romeo and Juliet truly the purest form of love, or is love with the knowledge and experience of man’s hurtful and evil capabilities true love? Most importantly, how can we allow ourselves to give our hearts so completely to another after being betrayed?

And why is it that the questions we most need the answers to are most often the ones we can’t find?

New Year's Resolution!

Sooo making this blog, making an effort to write and publish my thoughts, and most importantly, maintaining this blog is my official New Year's Resolution, thanks to my fav lil sis who apparently thinks i'm an awesome writer and wants me to eventually get paid to do it. let's hope she's right.

So if you're reading this now, I hope you will continue to read my meandering musings on my thoughts, ideas, and opinions, and if by any chance you happen to figure me out, you're one step ahead of me. Perhaps some little tidbits about me to keep you interested:

*I'm VERY little. I'm about 5 feet tall and I weigh 90 lbs. Getting asked for back-up ID or asked if the high school has off today are daily events for me. I drive a little car (VW beetle named Daisy), have a little dog (my beagle named Cooper who is basically the shit), and have over 40 pairs of size 5 1/2 shoes.

*I've had the same 4 best friends since i was 5 years old.

*I just discovered I can't eat peanuts in a series of unfortunate, uncomfortable (for all parties involved) recent stomach "situations"

*I'm an absolute nerd for good literature and proper grammar oddly delights me.

*The way to my heart is clearly through waffles and oversized red handbags.