The Way I See It...Music is like crack.

Blogging is fun. I can talk about whatever I want to. It doesn't have to have an aim, a focus, a "hook" or a "clincher." It's nice. So today I think I want to talk about...Music.

I love music. Most people do. There are those who like what they hear on the radio, those who like what they write, and those who devour every little scrap they can get. I'm a devourer. I can't get enough of music! Pandora.com is my favorite site because 1) it caters to my ADD by playing different artists all the time, and 2) because it allows me to delve into the cushy, comfortable, always supportive, always comforting beanbag chair that is music!

My day usually revolves around it. For instance, today, I woke up to my radio alarm clock (which I promptly shut off for two reasons: waking up sucks, and usually so does the music on the radio). I then got up and had my time with God, with some instrumental music playing in the background. After that I cleaned up the apartment a little bit, whilst listening to my future husband, Jason Mraz (you might as well call me Mrs. A-Z). I then ran a couple errands, listening to my new NeverShoutNever CD all the while. When I came home, I popped in one of my favorite musicals. I then cleaned and showered while beauties like Regina Specktor and Paulo Nutini serenaded me. No joke--my day. I'll admit, that's pretty tame for some people. I'm not trying to sound like I am the be-all and end-all of musical fanatics. All I'm saying is that I love it, and my day would be very...silent...without it.

So I guess my question is this: anybody you think I should have a listen to? :)

The Way I See It... Girls Are Cursed.

Girls are cursed. No joke. Don't get me wrong--I love being a girl! A girl can hide her pizza face with some lovely Maybelline or BareMinerals; mask her B.O. with Burberry Brit, or Victoria's Secret Love Spell; hide her muffin top with a $9 "fat sucker" from Wal-Mart or Spanx; elongate her legs with a pair of glorious Jimmy Choos or sexy stilettos. Being a woman is great. BUT--oh yeah, that's another thing we deal with--we share universal curses. There are many I could expound upon. Let's see...there's never truly being satisfied with our bodies. Don't deny it--you can be completely happy in your skin and still feel a slight twinge of jeaoulsy when you see a girl with a negative jean size walk by, or that girl who has the perfect cleavage to wear that shirt, or this girl we know who has perfect skin naturally. Oh, there's always seeking some sort of approval be it from men, friends, even strangers. Don't deny that either--insecurity is a temptation for every woman. But what I want to talk about is men. Boys. Boy-men. Why is it that at first contact with a guy, our minds immediately jump to "could I love him?"

For example: I just moved in to this apartment (see previous post). My second night here, my roommate's friend (of the male persuasion) and stayed for a little bit. He talked about his life, how he took a year off after graduating to visit other branches of our church all around the country. He talked about all his convictions, how he views life, etc. He's amazing. He also has a thing(ish) for one of my roommates! Anyway, no big heartbreak there, becuase I've talked to him for all of, what, twenty minutes? But that's not the point. The point is, for the next couple days, I kept on thinking about how cute it would be if we started dating, what our relationship would be like, if my first name sounded good with his last name, etc.

So I guess my quesiton is this: Why do we do that? Why can't we help it? Why is it, after spending hardly any time with a great guy, or any guy for that matter, we start contemplating china patterns?!?!

The Way I See It...New Kid On the Block.

Hey y'all. So I'm pretty new to this. A friend of mine commented on how, if I aspire to be a serious journalist, I should try out blogging. So here I am.

I just moved into this great apartment. I got away from home (first year of college coming up and all that), and couldn't be more excited about it. I had visited the apartment before moving; I loved it! A friend of mine was living there, so I figured it would be a great place for me to get into. I was so ecstatic to move in, to be on my own, to start living like an adult. So anyway, I get to the place, and I'm so excited. I walk in and BAM! It's a mess!! And not like the "oh I'm so sorry the place is a mess; I didn't have time to clean" kind of dirty. No. This is like "I've never even tried dusting or mopping or sweeping or anything remotely related to cleaning" dirty. With four girls living in a four-bed/two bath apartment, you'd think the chances of at least one of them having a sense of hygiene would be pretty high. You'd be wrong. I spent three days cleaning the bathroom! And believe you me, it's not a large bathroom.

So I guess my question is this: should previous tenants clean up for their successors? Or should the new kid on the block fend (and clean) for herself?