The Effects of Coffee:

I thought that by now I would have posted a blog about coffee, considering my name and all. I'm sure I meant to, but inadvertently got distracted by something shiny. I blame my (maybe psychosomatic?) A.D.D...or the large amount of shiny things in the world.



There are many things that can happen in the event of consuming too much coffee. The effects can either be dire or magnificent. In fact, they should let me write a disclaimer for it like they do on cigarettes or alcohol:

ANYWAY, here's what happens to me (and might happen to you too).

Scenario #1: Magnificent (may include running, jumping, and horrendously long strings of words).
By my secondthirdfourth cup of coffee, I am carelessly bouncing without a care in the world. Words are slipping out of my mouth like gigantic snakes and slithering into the air without much meaning (occasionally in story form). It's either very entertaining, or very annoying, depending on the person.

Example:


I essentially act like some horrible drug addict with entirely too much energy and words in my head.

So, a list of things I normally do when extremely hyper:
1. Sing ONE line from a song occasionally throughout the "high." It gets annoying, even to myself.
2. Lay down and stick my legs in the air. Why? I'm not really sure.
3. Run around. In circles, from wall to wall, into other rooms, around tables. Everywhere, so long as there's room to do so.
4. Talk incessantly. About everything and anything that pops into my constantly spinning brain.
5. Sleep for maybe 2-3 hours, wake up still energized.



Now on to scenario #2: Horrible (may include irritability, complete immobility, and a tendency to groan against your will).
Eventually, one of two things will happen. You will either crash with a insatiable vengeance like that of the Holocaust or you will ingest so much caffeine that it actually has the reverse effect. The later is very rare, or so it seems.

List of things that happen when NOT hyper:
1. Lay flat and complain about lack of hyperactivity.
2. Get annoyed at the smallest of things.
3. Murmur mean/sarcastic things under my breath about how idiotic the population of the world is and/or how much I hate everything.
4. Have the inability to write about how much life "sucks."
5. Search for a way to regain hyperactivity.



I sound like a junkie, but really...I'm just generally a happy-go-lucky person. So in the event that I don't feel energy surging through my body or my brain seems to be malfunctioning with laziness, I get concerned...and to say the least, extremely agitated.

Just to give you a little bit of insight, I'm writing this after drinking 48oz of coffee mixed with like 4 shots of espresso.

Hey, guys!

I'm moving to Tumblr. That site has more to offer me than this one, so follow me there!

coffeeismylover.tumblr.com
All the same awesomeness, just a new site.

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

I'll start out by saying that I am terrified of many things: the dark, spiders, clowns, scary men hiding under my bed, vast spaces, confined areas, strange and/or loud noises, creepy trees, heights, sketchy-looking people/places, and the list goes on for a while. But I have a justifiable reason for each of these fears.


See? This is a scary clown. They’re all this scary. Totally sensible.

People tell me that I have a bunch of irrational fears. I think they’re wrong and my fears are completely rational, each of them justified. It's possible that only I will find them rational, but this means that they are indeed, rational, not irrational.

You have to understand that it's all in perception.

A common fear is a fear of heights (or if you want to be nit picky, a fear of falling that is induced by heights). This fear is seen as rational. Why? Because it's normal and, apparently, justifiable. How I see it: the possibly of falling is greater than the possibility of dying in the ocean, therefore a fear of heights is more rational than a fear of the ocean.

If you were deathly afraid of spiders, one might consider this a rational fear seeing as they are tiny death traps that have the ability to drain your life away with one bite. If you were deathly afraid of bumblebees, people point and laugh at you because, "Everyone knows they can't sting you!" This may be true, but they can also buzz very loudly and scare anxious people into thinking a gigantic hornet has magically appeared and is going to eat them.



Being scared of heights and lethal creepy crawlies is perfectly okay, whereas a fear of clowns or a large man hiding under your bed with the intent of killing you are irrational and silly. Not to me! In fact, it is quite the contrary.


How would you feel if this was hiding in your closet?

Breaking into a person's house is a common crime. That's why they have a name and law against breaking and entering. Murder is also (way too) common. Though both of these things are frowned upon, they also still occur.

As I take these into consideration (while also watching a handful of murder investigation shows [i.e. Law & Order, The Mentalist, and Criminal Minds]), I begin to wonder about the probability of this happening to me. This sends me into a frantic, panicky state of being that leads to me scrambling about, checking my window locks, looking under my bed, and checking for scary men (Freddy Krueger) hiding in my closets.



I tried to explain to my father that fears are all about perception, not necessarily reality. The mind is a powerful weapon that can create legitimate fear in the hearts of many. Just because something does not frighten you doesn’t mean that it can’t make another person run crying to their mommy.

I am often told that I am a pansy. This makes me indignant, belligerent, and very upset. I am not a wuss; I am strong and intelligent, and am alive today because my fears make me cautious, dang it.

I have not yet drowned in the ocean, been murdered or stung by a wasp, attacked by a man under my bed, kidnapped in the middle of the night, or eaten by a scary clown. Precaution saves lives!

It’s also quite possible that I am a wuss. Who knows? It's all up to your perception.

The Liz's Survival Guide

"How do you keep going and not give up on it all?"

A good friend asked me that today. That, my dear, is a wonderful, loaded question. Well, a Liz is programmed to attack negative emotions like a super ninja. High five if you think that’s plausible!

Okay, there are a few things that have actually kept me from blowing my brains onto the wall over the past eighteen years. That may sound melodramatic, and possibly too graphic, but hey...it's the truth.

Everybody feels like a useless tool that only exists to take up space sometimes. That's a pretty nasty feeling, so this is what I do to counter those feelings.

1. This might mean I'm severely optimistic or naive, but I live for the future. It's the only thing that comforts me when I'm at my lowest point. Rather than wanting to ravenously attack either myself or the next human to walk by...I think that, "Hey, this feeling can't last forever. Negativity is a pansy, so it'll shrivel up and die soon." If I didn't think like that, one of a few things would happen:


(I’m crossing my fingers that #3 will happen…but that’s not probable.)

2. Run around in circles. If you get winded easily, run in small ones. If you’re more experienced, big circles are totally the way to go. Run around the room. Or do the running man. Maybe, if you’re daring, spin around a little (or a lot).

I swear, you’ll feel so much better. Partly because running releases endorphins, but also because you will eventually feel silly…then you’ll laugh at yourself (which also releases endorphins!). The only downside to this is if you’re clumsy, you might fall a lot (I do), but the pros still totally outweigh the cons.


Do like that little gold man. Just go ‘round and ‘round.

3. Talk about the situation. This sounds cliché, but just hold on.

Talk about whatever’s freaking you out, but make it as theatrical as possible. Rather than saying, “It’s been a bad day…” then continue sulking, say something like, “Today was so bad that Hitler could have come back and taken me hostage, and I wouldn’t have cared; it would have gotten me away from the sheer stupidity of today.”

This may only happen to me, but if I begin to tell an over dramatic story, I have to see it through until the end, or until someone shuts me up. But, if you do it right, you’ll get caught up in making the event so theatrical that what actually happened seems like a mere spec compare to what could have happened. You see? It’s perfect.


Look at this little guy. He’s just screamin’ about his terrible day.

4. Being easily amused has saved me several times. I mean, it really isn’t that hard to please me. Here’s an equation to demonstrate:

(Sad Liz x Easily amused) + Somebody falling = Way happier day

Next time you find something even slightly humorous, laugh. Laugh out loud and make yourself heard. I previously said that laughing releases endorphins…so doing that can only have a positive effect! If you’re in a bad mood and you just let yourself laugh at something idiotic, you’ll realize that the bad just isn’t so bad after all.

These things are what get me through every day. It’ll keep you from making dinosaurs attack towns and punching people in the face. Call me crazy, but it works.

Now here’s a funny picture to make your day happy:

Caution: This may get confusing.

Sentences that never end make me laugh (and also annoy me) because it seems like they might over soon, but then they don't end because they feel as though run-on sentences are hip and wonderful and everything good in the world is located in this one sentence, and they are aware that they are full of vagueness and ambiguity, so there's the possibility that they're also aware that they aren't making the slightest bit of sense to anyone but themselves, yet they keep on trucking, going on and on forever until someone finally yells, "SHUT UP!" Then they are over and also very sad.

I am an addict...

It's my fix. It's like heroin. It's always there for me. It makes my brain wheels turn. It keeps me company when I'm lonely. It keeps me quiet and calm when I need it the most. I'm pretty sure it's even saved my life a time or two. Yes, I love FreeCell; it is my addiction.

Seriously, though...it is a very loyal companion. There is an unlimited amount of games to entertain me. I did just find out that some of them are legitimately impossible, though. I'll have a talk with them once they try to defeat me. We'll settle that nonsense and I'll continue on my merry, undefeated way.

When I'm having severe writers block, avoiding papers, or trying to be quiet for the benefit of those around me, I turn to this lovely game and begin a long, grueling process of beating as many games as possible. Which is like setting one of those police dogs to find something. Once they get started, there's not stopping until the task at hand is completed.

It's a workout, too. I have to rest for fear of hyperventilating or throwing my laptop across the room out of frustration. So it's almost  like cardio, it gets my blood pumping. So I don't have to go to the gym anymore, right?...But for real...it makes my brain muscles HUGE.

It's also kind of like being in a relationship. Sometimes it makes me really happy. We're on the same page, going along and everything is perfect...Sometimes it pisses me off no end. I get frustrated and yell mean words at it. And sometimes there's the agreement of...Okay I Hate You But I Must Push Through This Anyway. But mostly it just makes me happy.

Oh! And it predicts my day, I've decided. If I win the first game I play (which is either in the morning or the early afternoon), then it will be a dandy day. If I lose, though, it's most certainly an omen to which I'll pay much attention to. Bad days ensue when I lose a game of Freecell.

Anyway, Mr. FreeCell and I will always be best friends, I'm sure. Unless someone tries to send me to counseling for my over exessive love for it. But until then, we'll spend vast amounts of time together and be very lovely and happy together.

Hey, Just Clear Your Mind.

For an insomniac, waiting for sleep is like waiting for water to boil. And like they say, a watched pot never boils. Right? So a moderately sleepy, impatient person waiting for rest will never sleep? I suppose so because I fall victim to this every night.

I've been on a six year quest for a remedy to my sleeping difficulty...to no avail. I've been given several suggestions that have almost worked. At least occasionally. Or I still end up awake at 4AM, then realizing that I have to be awake in a few hours, then becoming either more hyped up or extremely ill.

One person told me to turn my clock around. If you check the time, it'll make you more anxious about needing to sleep now...because the more time you spend freaking out, the less time you'll have to sleep.

Other people generally tell me, "Just clear your mind. Then sleep will come." Or "Just relax." And for future reference, I am practically incapable of relaxation.

Not long ago, I had a realization. I was laying in bed one night, and I became captivated by the idea of trying to clear one's mind. By trying not to think, aren't you thinking of not thinking?...In turn thinking? Does this make sense to anyone but me?

Ir will always baffle me, I'm sure. I'll lay there, desperately craving sleep, but the thoughts keep coming. Then I will myself not to think. I calmly tell myself, "Stop thinking. STOP IT." I begin to lose my cool quickly when words and images keep on dancing despite my distinct order to knock it off.

Then I try...
"Think of a blank sheet of paper, that ought to help." Twenty seconds later, I'm filling the imaginary blank sheet of paper with words and doodles of extinct dinosaurs and creatures with flashing smiles. So I attempt another tactic.

"Don't think don't think don't think stop it think of nothing. Nothingness is what you are trying to imagine. Blank, empty space...black, dark space...Or is emptiness white and glowing? I mean, really, Liz...If you were falling into big pit of nothing, would it be black or white? Ugh, I'm thinking again...But now that I've started, I need to see this one through..."

It's an endless cycle, let me tell you.

I had a conversation with someone that went like this:
Him: "It's like moving. It takes effort to move, but it doesn't take effort to not move. So it would take effort to not sleep, right?"
Me: "You don't know me very well. It takes effort for me not to move."

As a side note: I said this while squirming around, unintentionally proving my point. I then laughed at myself, given the irony.

I actually have to expend more effort trying not to move than I do to flail my arms about. It takes more conscious thought to clear my mind than it does to let my thoughts run rampant. So, I'm back to the beginning. How is one supposed to think about not thinking? Enlighten me.

Unless I can find the cure for sleeplessness or the inability to clear my mind, I will eventually explode into twelve thousand pieces. That leaves someone else with the responsibility of picking up my remains....and no one wants to see a person in that many pieces. Am I right, or am I right?

My beef(s) with the English language.

Don't get me wrong, I love English and all of its complexities. But occasionally we bicker. Over things like who's right and who's wrong. Whether or not an exception is ridiculous. Or me telling it it's too flaky and controlling. It's being difficult. Stop messing with my head! You're so confusing...Ya know, the usual. I mean, that's normal...right?

Strange exceptions cause difficulty when a small child is trying to learn to spell…
-Little kid: “But you said I was supposed to do this…”
-Teacher: “Yeah, that’s only if this, that, and the other happens too. Oh, & you have to stand on one leg, hop around, pat your head, rub your stomach, and say your ABC’s backward. Then you’ll get it right. It‘s easy, I promise.”

Other irritations include…

I before E except after C:
Apparently the rule is I before E except after C…and most other letters.

Examples that break the rule:
science, society, ancient, sufficient. "ie" = AFTER C in these words.
weird, theism, foreign, kaleidoscope. C = NOT before the “ei” here.

Silent letters: k, t, b, g, e, n
Examples: knife, listen, dumb, phlegm, become, solemn

My (least) favorite is letters like "T.“ It likes to put itself where it doesn't belong. It takes pleasure out of conquering words like "listen" and "whistle." They're like the creepy, unwelcome friend that intervenes in conversations they're not invited to. Which is annoying and slightly unnecessary. We would all be better without you, Mr. Silent T.

Homonyms:
Examples: they're/their/there, here/hear, piece/peace, heal/heel, to/two/too.

The most annoying is the multiple spellings of the sound (too). I mean, couldn't we be more creative? This has a large potential of being really confusing. Like...
"I want to too," --> I want to as well.
"I want two, too" --> I would like more than one of those as well.
or "Oh, I want to! And I want two too!" --> I would like to do it, and I would like multiple also.
If we had been more diverse in our word choice, we wouldn't have this problem. Silly creators of the English language.

Heteronyms:
Examples: Fair: reasonable, the national fair/Lie: tell an untruth, lay down

Really, guys? It’s one thing to have words that sound the same, but are spelled differently. But for them to completely rip each other off? That’s just being a copy kitten.

Okay, now to move on to some more modern annoyances:

Double Negatives:
Examples: Ain’t got no, Can’t find none, Do not have none.
 Corrections: I don’t have any, I can’t find any, I have none.

Is it just me, or do double negatives make sentences way more confusing than they need to be? For me, at least, when I hear someone say “I ain’t got none,” I think “I do not have none? Wait- do you or do you not have any?!“ Then I get angry because I’m confused. Liz’s don’t like being confused. Confusing a Liz is like unleashing an angry fire breathing dragon.

Over Abbreviating:
Examples: luv, rite, R, omg, U, wut, ikr, ppl,
Used in a sentence: “Omg, rite?! I so luv u! Ppl r soooo crazy. Ikr!”
Actual sentence: Oh, my God, right? I so love you. People are so crazy…I know right.”

Okay, I’m guilty of “lol” and “jk.” Even occasionally “idk.” What really gets under my skin is the complete lack of punctuation, capitalization, and even a hint of proper grammar. Oh, and the abbreviations? They r makin teh smartz of us go away, or assaulting the intelligence of the people lively enough to type complete sentences.

Apparently, those spending a lot of time online have found it necessary to make things as quick as possible…by abbreviating words to the point that they look idiotic. Even if these people do have a working, cranking brain in their head, they refuse to show it. In turn, looking like a moron and annoying the piss of a multitude of people...

I guess it doesn't even matter where you're from, your native tongue will probably annoy you and you'll wish you spoke French, German, Yiddish, or whatever it is that you don't currently speak. A classic case of The Grass is Always Greener syndrome? I suppose.

Or maybe I should just stop being so nit picky and come to terms with the fact that nothing is perfect, everything is bound to have a few flaws, and there are no rules without exceptions?

Or maybe I'm always right and English sucks and people always mess everything up. Yeah, that's it.

I used to be invincible. What happened?

Okay, I’ll admit it. I'm a fraidy kitty. Terrified of everything. Startled by even the faintest noises. I jump ten feet in the air if someone starts talking after a prolonged silence. This is all strange to me because I used to think I was something like Supergirl.

I used to jump, hop, and skip around my neighborhood. Climb to the tips of the tress. Jump from rooftops (and promptly break my arm). I'd ride my bike fast to everywhere and anywhere that a 10 year old had the mind to do. I was fearless, invincible, and clever.

Like The Hulk and an epic fox mixed. Imagine a little kid, except extremely muscular, green, and with a fox face. You have now imagined a youngster Liz.

When I was little, my brother and I were trick-or-treating. I, the younger child, would go to the door, knock, and give an extremely long introduction.

"Hi. I'm Elizabeth and this is my brother Brandon and we're the Power Rangers! Trick or treat!" I said this at every house.

Okay, now for my favorite story.

When I was 10 (I think?), I broke both of my arms in a treacherous, almost deadly, bike accident. See, I was trying to showoff to my cousin. I rode my bike at top speed...only to be met by a car. I slammed on my breaks, then swiftly flew over the handlebars.

The funny thing about brakes on a bike...is you have to hit both of them. If you only use the front break, the bike will flip over, sending you with it. It took me a minute...but when the shock wore off, I became aware that I was in pain. Immense pain. OHMYGOD I'M DYING.

So, then I hear my cousin run off and come back with my mother who tells me to get up. Quit it. Don't get me wrong, my mom's not a cruel woman. She just thought I was being an awful drama queen. I remember the rest of it in clips.

I'm in my parents bedroom, begging to lie down. Mom says, "No. You'll go to sleep and never wake up." All the while I'm thinking, "You want me to DIE."

I'm in the back room, sitting on the couch, watching my arms swell and turn a nasty shade of purply blue.

My dad comes home, takes me straight to the emergency room. They take x-rays.

The nurse is trying to put a band-aid on my lip. I really just wanted her to stop because it‘s not working, but she was so nice.

"This is going to hurt a little," Doctor Man says. They crack my bones back into place. Half of me wants to scream. Half of me can't stop looking at them, marveling. Looking at my arm, disbelief. Wide eyed. "Is this really happening?" That's what I'm thinking.

Four broken bones. A nasty, bloody face. And multiple scrapes and gashes on my arms. An epic tragedy at the beginning of summer. I still continued to be a daredevil.

What killed my sense of adventure, then? Puberty. It killed my confidence and my crazed tomboy-ish-ness. I went into hiding and emerged an angsty preeteen. Which gently wore off into a terrified teenager.

Once legitimate adulthood comes around, one of two things will happen. Here's a chart of the possibilities:

Things People Do (& Don't Mean To Do)...Proof That We're Incapable of Normality

For some reason, the socially awkward human race can’t find a balance in anything. Either we love or detest something, rarely pay it mind or clench it like a vice. There is no shade of gray, we rely solely on black and white. We don’t mean to, but when our brain decides it likes (or dislikes) something, it makes you involuntarily do stuff.

1. Silence
We either try to fill every "awkward" silence with an even more awkward conversation, or we grasp this silence and never let it go. Either way, it tends to leave this huge, heavy blanket of Awkward over the room.

If we're talking in extremes, then two types of people prevail: The people that babble, talking until their little lungs just won't push any more words out (then they promptly take another breath and begin again). Then there are people that seem like their mute or a mime. A nod of the head or a flick of the hand will suffice, no words for me please. It's rare that, within a group of people, there will ever be an even amount of conversation from every person.

There's at least one attention whore who never shuts up, though we all want them to. They feel the need to surround every possible moment of silence with their booming voice and pointless stories. They, of course, are just trying to make everything comfortable, right? No harm done...

Unless you're stuck listening to Insane College Party Story #124 or them trying to "ease tension" with Your Mom jokes. Yeah, those are rarely funny. Or they may be trying to fit in with the, “I’m so much cooler than you listen to me right now I’m important I promise!” tactic. Which is also generally frowned upon.

Then there's always the person you never hear a peep from. They sit like a statue, rarely saying a word. Either because they can enjoy the glory of occasional silence or they're too terrified to say anything (for fear that it'll be wrong). Though you get nervous since they never talk. I mean, what if they're planning how to gain mind control of the entire population, thus taking over the world, thus becoming the next Hitler, then we're all screwed? Yeah, next time you see someone not talking, just know that they're planning to obliterate you from the planet. Worst case scenario, of course...

2. Seriousness
There is a time and place for everything. There are occasions for both lighthearted conversations and profound discussions, but these occasions do not happen 24/7. You’ve met the people that rarely change their mentality, and find it necessary to tell you every detail of their every thought. Then there are the people who run away from these conversations like the plague.

On one side, there’s Mr. Philosophy. Even when you’re just trying to have fun, this person is filling your ears with mindless babble that he thinks is crucial to your life. These things could range from the creation of earth to the complexity of religion to the workings of their own brain. While these are perfectly acceptable topics, they aren’t exactly warranted when you’re on a rollercoaster or in a public restroom.

On the other side, there’s Mr. Hilarity. No matter what you say, they combat it with a joke, a funny story, or change the subject to something they find amusing. While this could be useful, say you’ve had a bad day. This guy can jump in and save the day! Sort of like Superman. It can also take turn for the worst. So if you’re at a funeral, know that it’s best to steer clear of too many jokes.

3. Confrontation
A large amount of people would shy away from confrontation if at all possible. Preventing a possibly horrible situation is best done by completely avoiding it, which is probably not the best advice, but it (generally) gets the job done.

It’s most commonly used when avoiding hurting someone’s feelings (“Really, this gift it great!”). Or avoiding past acquaintances (“It’s really awesome to see you, but I have to go…-insert fake place here-,” as you run far, far away). Or in the event of a break up (with the ever popular, “It’s not you, it’s me”).

The rest almost seem to seek out confrontation with no fear whatsoever. Like a daredevil, only replace the stunts with people and bad tempers.

But they aren’t usually violent interactions (except when you’re in a bar and a drunk guy spills his drink on you and hits on your woman). There’s also the instance when you can read a storm of words in their eyes before you’ve even done anything wrong. If you manage to step an inch out of line, they are completely ready to take you down with one (vicious, poised, and well spoken) argument.

One way you can tell these people apart is how they act with moody cashiers. One who doesn’t want to cause a fuss would take their incompetence in stride, being level headed through the entire encounter…then getting really pissy once out of earshot. “Did you hear how [s]he talked to me? The nerve…”

Whereas people who don’t mind putting a douche in his place will tell them (right then and there) that the stupid cashier is wrong, I am right, and douchey cashier needs to shut up, give me my change, and I’ll never come here again.

All in all, they sort of balance each other out. The pacifists dilute the angry folks, and the confrontational guys end up fighting each other instead of the person cowering in the corner.

A Timeline of Social Networking.

So...there was LiveJournal, OpenDiary, Xanga, Myspace, and now the (can't decide between horrible or phenomenal) invention of Facebook. Personal favourite = Xanga...But what ever happened to Xanga? It was the place where you would accidentally find out entirely too much about someone's personal life that you wouldn't have known otherwise. I mean, people you didn't even know very well.

Examples:

"Life is horrible right now. I'd like to die. Screw everyone."

"OMG MY PARENTS ARE SO AWFUL BLAH BLAH BLAH."

"My girl/boyfriend just dumped me. The heartbreak is unbearable. Kill me now."

"My life is spiraling downward. I couldn't get enough money to go to the Blood Red Romance and Suffocate me dry concert. It sucks 'cause they play some of my favorite songs like "Stab My Heart Because I Love You" and "Rip Apart My Soul" and of course, "Stabby Rip Stab Stab".

-insert other emo crap here-

But anyway...I guess it died when Myspace took over the interwebz. Just like Myspace died when Facebook took over the world. (No, not just the internet...it found a way to creep into everyone's legitimate reality.) Social networking just kills everything, for real.

Even though it's destroying the world, I'm going to post something that, if I still used Xanga, I would post there.

I'm in love with the weather and 1 liter bottles of soda and fallen leaves and the music scene and new, soft socks and fuzzy pillows and the way the earth spins and the mechanics of the brain and lovely friends and new books that still smell like fresh paper and cuddling until I can't lay still anymore and singing at the top of my lungs and the ability to sing at all. I'm in love with memories and perfume and the ingenious involved in creating a Spork and bumper stickers and felt tip pens and comic books and how glass fogs up when you breathe on it (so that you can leave secret hearts wherever you go). I'm in love with fake British accents (and real ones, too) and pennies and dancing and futuristic plans and tattoos and the art of being. & you know, this is what gets me through the day. If ya don't love someone, you have to love something. Yeah?