#5 - People trying to cheer you up

I know, I know. Less than a week into the blogging project and I'm already behind. But, to be fair, it's been one hell of a weekend. Yesterday (Saturday) was test day. Because the test is given on the computer, I was able to learn my score right away, which is nice, I suppose, if you're one of those people who likes to confront their fears head on. 

I didn't do as well as I'd hoped to. Out of a possible 800 points (per section) I scored 680 on verbal and 640 on math, for a combined score of 1320. I'd been hoping for at least 700 on each section, and I left the test feeling totally defeated. By the time I made it from the testing center to my car, I was in tears. The combination of disappointment about the scores and relief for being done was a little overwhelming. When I got back to my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch and spent a little while feeling sorry for myself. After about fifteen minutes, my roommate came into the living room and asked me about the scores. When I told her, she could tell I was upset, but refused to let me dwell on it. She threw a bag of potato chips (see blog #4) and a Wii remote at me, and we spent an hour or so playing Super Mario Brothers. By the time we'd surrendered to Bowser, I was feeling much better. I checked my facebook and found that another friend had sent me a link to a website claiming that my verbal score put me in the 96th percentile. He insisted that my scores were good enough to get me into any program I wanted, and at a party later that night, had several people confirm that theory. 

I don't know if my scores are good enough for the programs I want, and I don't know if my scores will go up when I take the test again next month, but I do know that I could not have made it through this weekend without the support of my friends. They're the greatest people in the world when it comes to confidence boosters, and they know exactly how to cheer me up. I'm thankful for them every single day of my life. In fact, I'm going to cut this entry short and spend some quality time with Mario and my roommate. Bowser calls!

#4 - Buying food your mom would disapprove of

Today's post is, by necessity, short. The test is TWO DAYS AWAY and since I'm cutting my self off (study-wise) at 3 o'clock on Friday afternoon, I'm taking every opportunity to study. I'm currently sitting on my couch with my GRE book, a brand new pack of pencils, and, unfortunately, a very serious stomach ache. I've never been one of those people who starves themselves when stressed. I'm don't eat my feelings (thank God), but I do, occasionally, eat my stress. The past few days have been particularly bad for my health. I've been indulging in cheap, quick food, and that rarely translates to low-fat, nutritious fare. But in shopping for study food recently (Helloooo calories!), I've found a new Thing To Be Happy About: buying food your mom would disapprove of.

My mother is a wonderful, brilliant woman who has always supported me and my siblings through everything we've done. She's also a bit of a food Nazi. She recently accused me of only writing bad things about her in this blog, so let me be clear: my mom would never call me fat, or tell me not to eat something, or suggest that I go on a diet. She's not that kind of food Nazi. But she is, traditionally, very particular about the kind of food she buys. Going home to Texas is a wonderful experience for many reasons, and my parent's fridge - full of fresh produce, tasty meats, and, invariably, a big bowl full of red seedless grapes - is one of them. But you'd never find Coco Puffs in my parent's pantry. Or Pop Tarts. Or Wonderbread, or beef jerky, or any number of delicious yet wholly unhealthy foods. My mom's most recent crusade was against high fructose corn syrup, and let me tell you - that stuff is in everything.

Going to the grocery store on my own, then, has become a bit of a challenge. On the one hand, I'm a bit of a hippy, and I've become my mother's daughter. I love buying organic vegetables, and low-fat m ilk, and healthy things. But I also have these impulses to buy things I know she'd hate. And in times of stress, those impulses become even stronger. Case in point: last night, my roommate and I went to Walgreens to buy lots of Diet Coke in order to stay up late and study. We came home with Diet Coke, Fruity Pebbles, Ruffles potato chips (and not the low-fat kind), and Pop Tarts. My breakfast today? A bowl of Fruity Pebbles washed down with some Diet Coke. For Lunch? Pop Tarts. My mother, I'm sure would be horrified. But they were quick, cheap meals, and I got some twisted satisfaction out of imagining my mom's face.

I have to admit, she has good reason to be horrified. All that sugar caused a serious energy crash in the late afternoon, and I've got a wicked stomach ache at the moment. So there's another Thing to Be Happy About, I suppose. Moms being right. They usually are.

#3 - Really bad (and really brilliant) rap lyrics

So yesterday (Tuesday) was my first day of class. And what a day it was. I slept through my alarm (of course), broke one of my brand-spanking-new shoes while running to class, and got caught in a mid-day rain storm that came, quiet literally, out of the clear blue sky. On top of my 9:30 - 6 schedule, I had Kaplan Teacher Training from 5:30 - 9:30, which means I was on campus for about a million hours today. I had planned to blog about crotchety old men of the grammar nerd persuasion, a species I have grown to know and love in my time in the English department.

When I finally got home, however, I realized that I had neither the mental capacity or the strength of will to write an actual blog entry about an actual Thing To Be Happy About. So I turned on some music and stared at the screen for a while, waiting for inspiration to strike. Luckily, the music I turned on was 500 Days of Weezy, an absolutely brilliant mash-up of Lil' Wayne songs at the (500) Days of Summer soundtrack. If you haven't checked it out yet, do so immediately. Seriously. Put it on and then come back. We'll wait.

Anyway. I've always had a soft spot for really awful rap lyrics, and Lil' Wayne is no exception. He can be horribly offensive and almost absurdly obtuse. And yet, the juxtaposition of Wayne's lyrics and the melodies of Simon and Garfunkel songs (for example) actually brought to my attention some lines that seemed (at least, in my delusional, exhausted state) to be really clever. Which got me thinking: if Lil' Wayne can write semi-intelligent lyrics, who is to say that other modern rappers are ridiculous all the time? That, in turn, started me on an unnecessarily complex search for lyrics, which brought me to this Happy Thing: really bad (and really brilliant) rap lyrics. So here, presented with minimal comment, the best and worst rap lyrics from my 3 favorite (and I use the word loosely) rappers. Lyrics are necessarily NSFW-ish. Obscenities have been removed, but the contexts are obviously questionable. Comments/additions are appreciated!

KANYE WEST

BEST: "...You would think I ran the world just like Michelle's husband." 

A perfect example of a clever lyric, at least in my mind. Kanye says "Michelle's husband" and we all know exactly who he means. He might not have an entirely accurate idea of what it is the President actually does, but you have to appreciate the reference.

WORST: "...I come as correct as a porn star."
#1 - Ew. #2 - You come correctly, Kanye. Not "correct". We use adverbs to modify verbs, not nouns. # 3 - Ew.

LIL' WAYNE

BEST: "...my mind shines even when my thoughts seem dark." 

This, to me, is what rap should be about. Dark, scary, controversial subjects expressed clearly and, as in the example above, almost poetically. 

WORST (In a song about having sex with a policewoman): "I make her wear nothing but handcuffs and heels and I beat her like a cop, Rodney King baby, I beat her like a cop..."

Okay, first of all, someone needs to re-teach the Civil Rights Movement to our friend Mr. Wayne. Rodney King didn't beat up a cop; in fact, I'm pretty sure it was the other way around. Also: advocating domestic violence? Charming.

EMINEM

BEST: "When it's going good, it's great. I'm Superman...she's Lois Lane."

This lyric comes from "Love the Way You Lie", which, if you haven't heard it, is a really brave and moving song about domestic violence. And while the rest of the song is actually really depressing, this line gets me everytime.

WORST (in a verse about his fans): "...nuts they go, macadamia, they go so ballistic."

Alright. I sort of see where he's going here. Macadamia is a type of nut. And people can, metaphorically, go nuts. So I suppose they could, by proxy, go macadamia. Still: what?

And, of course, my favorite rap lyric of all time, courtesy of the immortal Young Money:

"...call me Mr. Flintstone; I can make your bed rock."

Pure poetry.

P.S. - Crotchety Old Grammar Nerds are truly my favorite people in the whole world, and I have two of them teaching me this semester. Rest assured, they will get their own post.

#2 - Playing Mario Kart Wii

In the midst of the chaos that is studying for the GRE, I've realized that I don't exactly respond well to pressure. The combination of hours spent staring on practice tests and the conviction that my entire future rests on this one score has taken it's toll. My body feels like it's literally falling apart - I've got nearly constant headaches and I don't think my hands have been steady since July. There have been days in the past few weeks where the mere mention of Saturday morning (test day!) has brought me to tears.

In the past, I'm ashamed to admit, I've used times of overwhelming stress as an excuse to be mean to my younger siblings, who serve as an effective - although maybe not entirely deserving - outlet for my aggression. No such luck this time around. My siblings are safe in Texas, halfway across the country, and I'm pretty sure that if I tried to replace them with my roommate, I'd end up with a black eye. 

And while I might resent the fact that she won't let me yell at her, I can't help but love her for bringing her Wii to the apartment. It's become my lifeline. Was there every a better invention for relieving stress? And is any game more perfect than Mario Kart? I've played no less than six Grand Prix tournaments in the past week, and I've realized that it's the perfect outlet for my stress and aggression. I've also realized that there are very few social situations in which four adults screaming obscenities at the TV and/or each other is considered acceptable - other than a Mario Kart tournament, of course.

Luigi is shocked at Mario's language. He really shouldn't have
expected any better.

The thing about playing Mario Kart is that it brings out the absolute worst in people. Some of the sweetest, kindest, most sophisticated people I know have become absolute animals in front of the Wii. Previously unheard-of combinations of swearwords ("douche-hat" and "son of a d*ck" are my personal favorites) are the unintentional fruits of Mario marathons, as are seemingly ridiculous - but deadly serious  - personal feuds. I'm currently caught in the middle of a cross-generational competition, the logistics of which are slightly too complicated to explain. Suffice it to say that when my friends and I play Mario Kart, we play for keeps. Shells and banana peels are thrown with a fury that recalls soldiers tossing grenades over enemy lines.

Last night I won a Grand Prix tournament by such a large margin that I actually felt sorry for my opponent. I say this not to brag, but to explain why the vulgarity and aggression that comes with playing Mario Kart is a Thing To Be Happy About.

Yesterday was a really awful day. I woke up at six in the morning after an entirely restless night. I had planned on riding my bike to campus, but soon realized that it was about 192 degrees outside, and that any strenuous activity might actually kill me. So I threw my bike in the back of my roommates car and rode to campus with her, planning to study at the library all day, then ride home in the afternoon when it was only 150 degrees. Can you see where this is going? My bike broke down in the middle of an intersection on campus. All THREE of the pens I brought ran out of ink. I got in a stupid fight with my mom for absolutely no reason. My brain felt like it was swelling inside my cranium. And it stayed unbearably hot all day.

But when I got home, I knew that pressing the start button three times in quick succession would give me a power boost at the beginning of each race, and that if I flew off the track after the first turn of Rainbow Road, I'd find an awesome shortcut and absolutely destroy my opponents (try it!). I knew that no matter what score I get on Saturday, shaking the Wii remote when my character is in the air will cause her to jump off her bike and do a trick, which will, in turn, give me a boost of speed. When it seems like I don't have control over anything in my life, at least I know that the combination of three adults, a bottle of wine, and Mario Kart can create some serious Lord Of The Flies-style drama. Even when the entire world seems to be conspiring against me, at least I know one thing: Peach is on my side.

Well - that and the fact that I could bat you three times in a row if I wanted. Yeah, you. Want to test that theory? Talk to me on Sunday. Any earlier and I might bite your head off.

#1 - The infinite re-readability of the Harry Potter series

Want to feel old? Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone was first published on June 30th, 1997. On September 1st, 1998, almost twelve years ago, it was published in the United States under the title Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I was eight years old at the time, and far too cool for anything as pedestrian as reading, and so was late to the phenomenon that would come to define my generation. In fact, I didn't even pick up the book until some years later, at the age of 11, on a family trip to Seaside, Florida.

Needless to say, when Harry and I finally met, I fell totally, dangerously in love. I devoured the book in about two days, and insisted that my mom buy me the second book, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, the minute we got back to Chicago. I bought each of the next five books on the day they were published, and have seen every movie but the sixth on opening night. The first part of the seventh and final movie, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows comes out on November 19th, 2010, and the second part comes out on July 15th, 2011. I plan to be at a midnight showings of both. As with the release of the book version of HP7, the release of the second part of the final movie - over fourteen years after the release of the first book - will be a bittersweet thing. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that my generation grew up with Harry Potter. What will we do when the series ends? How will we navigate the post-Potter world?

The answer, my friends, is the inaugural Thing To Be Happy About: we will simply read the series again. And again. And again.

I spent a significant portion of this summer re-reading all seven Harry Potter novels, and was absolutely astounded by how much I still enjoyed each one. At the ripe old age of twenty-one-in-less-than-three-months (!!!), I probably shouldn't have been as completely engrossed in the series as I was. I am, after all, an English major, and spend the majority of my time reading Serious Adult Books. And yet, from the moment I picked up the first book to the moment I set down the last, I was a woman obsessed. After all these years, the books are still as entertaining, captivating, and inspiring as they were when I first read them. And, in the manner of all over-achieving English majors, I think I've figured out why.

In the Harry Potter universe, "kids" aren't just kids. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are eleven years old when first meet them, and they still manage to outsmart and outfight every "adult" bad guy they encounter. Consider the plot of the first novel. Professor Dumbledore has decided to hide the Sorcerer's Stone at Hogwarts, and enlists the help of several other professors in making it as safe as is humanly possible. Harry and the gang begin to suspect that someone is trying to steal the Stone, and decide that it is their responsibility to protect it. Keep in mind that less than a year prior to this decision neither Harry nor Hermione even knew that Hogwarts existed. Keep in mind also that every adult they encountered assured them that: 1) the Stone was safe; and 2) no one was after it.

You know the rest of the story. Ron wins "the best-played game of chess Howarts has seen in many years", Hermione protects Harry from almost certain death with "the cool use of logic in the face of fire", and Harry...well, Harry uses "pure nerve and outstanding courage" to keep Voldemort from coming back; at least, for a year or so. These three eleven year olds single-handedly kept the most evil man in the Wizarding World at bay after less than a year of their magical education. This same pattern is repeated in each of the subsequent books. J.K. Rowling gives her young characters the abilities and confidence to save the world. If that's not inspiring, I don't know what is.

If you know me well, you know that right now I'm driving myself absolutely insane studying for the GRE. My self-confidence is at an all-time low, and I'm (foolishly, I hope) operating under the assumption that my entire future depends on the outcome of this single test. Last night, after studying for far longer than is healthy, I got in bed with my roommate's well-worn copy of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I flipped to the last few chapters of the book, a section I knew I would appreciate. I'm not going to lie - (SPOILER ALERT, as if you haven't read it already) Dumbledore's death hit me just as hard as it did the first time, and I couldn't help but cry. But when I reached the end of the book, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione decide to drop out of Hogwarts and go out to find Horcruxes and fight Voldemort, I felt a swell of confidence. Are you laughing at me yet? It's a little ridiculous, I admit. But if a seventeen year-old Harry can defeat the most evil man in the world (and believe me, he can), then who's to say that I can't defeat this stupid test?

So here's to J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter series. One of these days (hopefully many, many years in the future) when I read the series to my kids, I know that they will be as amazed as I was and continue to be. And that's certainly something to smile about.

The Beginning.

Today is Sunday, August 22nd, 2010. Tomorrow is the first day of my senior year of college, and I couldn't be more excited. It's been a very long summer. Rather than going home to Texas at the end of last semester, I made the somewhat foolish decision to stay in Arizona for all but two weeks of my vacation. Arizona is hot this time of year, and lonely, and I can't say that I've been especially happy this summer. Between work, and grad school applications, and the unbearable boredom that comes with living by yourself in a practically empty college town, it's been hard to keep my spirits up. There were days this summer when I all I wanted to do - when I all I did - was lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. And the more time I spent feeling sorry for myself, the more depressed I became. I began to spend time with similarly depressed and self-pitying people, and somehow convinced myself that it was okay to be miserable all the time because at least I wasn't alone in my misery, and at least I wasn't the most depressed person I knew.

Then, about three weeks ago, a good friend of mine found out that his father is dying. Suddenly, all of the things that had been upsetting me all summer seemed ridiculous. Yes, I spent an absurd amount of time studying for the GRE and applying to graduate programs, but that work would pay off in the end. Yes, Arizona in the summer is hotter than hell, but at least I was getting tan. Yes, I was lonely, but each day I spent missing my friends brought me one day closer to seeing them again. And yes, I fought with my parents on the phone nearly every day - but at least they were healthy. At least they're alive.

In trying to take care of and cheer up my friend, I was forced to ask myself a difficult question: why was it that I was so willing to spend energy trying to make someone else happy, but refused to spend any energy on my own happiness? If I could help someone else find reasons to smile, why was so insistent on being sad? Happiness, I decided, is a decision, and starting today, I'm deciding to be happy.

Every day for the 2010 - 2011 school year, I'm going to update this blog with thoughts on one thing that makes me happy, in the vein of 1000 Awesome Things or Things To Be Happy About. This isn't going to be an easy school year, and this isn't going to be an easy project. I've got grad school applications, and difficult classes, and tumultuous relationships, and any number of things to bring me down. But I've also got really fantastic application essays, and great friends, and a 21st birthday that's just around the corner. The world can be an ugly place, but I've got a million reasons to smile - and I'm ready to share them all.