Master and Commander

Do you ever wonder what happens if you don't cough when you really, really, I mean really need to? Does your head explode? Well, I unwittingly did a little experiment in class today where I forced myself not to cough even though the urge was killing me. What were the results?

Well, first of all, the context of the "experiment" was me, sitting in class, in the very middle of a very narrow aisle (read: I couldn't get up and go outside and cough to my heart's content). So I tried to suppress my cough. For about 5 times, I was unsuccessful and the cough won out. But then I steeled my nerves and really focused and ended up doing a pathetic muffled snorting noise which made my classmates turn around and ask me if I was ok.

And of course the urge still didn't go away (this was one serious tickle in the throat), so I said to myself: Christina, I know you want to give up, but don't. For humanity's sake, for the furtherance of scientific discovery, you need to sum up all your willpower to go through with this experiment. You must find out what happens when you force yourself not to cough!

And as the tickle in my throat started to crest to an almost unbearable point, I shut my eyes and concentrated 100% of my faculties on not coughing (or making faint muffled sounds). I aimed for complete silence. My forehead was beaded with sweat. And just when the urge was so intense, I thought I could bear it no longer...it passed! That awful tickle just disappeared, vanished, and lost all power over me. I had won. I HAD CONQUERED!

So the next time you feel powerless over your bodily functions, just remember this. You will not die if you hold that urge to pee, cough, burp, what have you. YOU are the master of your body.

Now go in peace young grasshopper.
And may the force be with you.

And speaking of kisses...

(See Kiss of Death post below)

I won't be kissing anyone for awhile. I got a big ol' STUPID cold sore! Argh! I hate those things!

And this little OTC product, which promises so much, doesn't seem to be helping!

The Kiss of Death

I just heard the saddest news via Michael via CNN.

A teenage girl who was allergic to peanuts died after she kissed her boyfriend, who had just eaten a peanut butter jelly sandwich.

I didn't think anything could be sadder than the tale of Romeo and Juliet, but this takes the cake.

And the take away lesson here is an oft too neglected public service announcement: People with peanut allergies should never ever let their guard down, and nor should those who love them.

Thanksgiving v. Christmas

Today Michael came home and asked me what I thought was the most stupid question ever:

Which holiday do you like better, Christmas or Thanksgiving?

I said, "Are you serious? That's like asking: What do you like better, ten bucks or a million? Obviously Christmas!!!!!!!!"

And he replied, "Yeah, I like Christmas better too, but I was talking to a friend today (who has 3 kids under 7) and he says he likes Thanksgiving more because it's got all the wonderful things about Christmas, but you don't have to worry about buying gifts."

I scratched my head for a second and thought, "Yeah, that's true."

But the gifts are the best part!

So in honor of 'the most stupid question ever,' I'd just like to say that this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for Christmas.

Cue up the violins...

Get out the cheese, cause here comes the whine...

My throat is sore. I'm sick. My stomach is cramping because it's "that time." And I have a 10 page motion due tomorrow morning (which I don't know how to write and didn't start til now). Poor me.

So Singable

Gosh I love to lip-sync to Jewel.

Don't judge me! Come on, how many of you secretly listen to Foolish Games and mouth out the words with strained expressions of feigned emotion? Yeah, you know who you are. I know you're out there.

It can't just be me...can it?

Too Soon Gone

Growing up all your life in California, people are always telling you how great the weather is all year round. But they also never fail to mention the downside to paradise, which is that you never experience a real "Fall".

If I had a dime for everytime someone told me how beautiful the Fall is in New England, I would be a rich man (ok, maybe just fifty bucks richer, but that's a lot for a this poor student!).

So, naturally it follows that I was really excited to experience my first, offical "Fall" in New England, no less.

And indeed it is more beautiful than words can express and the little of it that I experienced (walking 15 minutes to class each day) was just too little to enjoy it fully. But there were some moments when the wind suddenly picked up and thousands of bold red and yellow leaves would flutter down from the copse of trees like so much glittering confetti that you felt the most stomach churning nostalgia for the perfect New England childhood you never had.

This year's Fall was altogether too painful to endure. I hated glancing up from my blackletter books to see the glory of Autumn unfolding beyond my sterile windowed walls. Next year I hope I have more time to enjoy it.

It is rumored that the snow will start falling next week. Winter is coming. Already the trees are nearly bare and the wind has a sharper chill. The blue skies turn now to grey and the technicolor leaves rot on the ground. The grass has all but died.

As the earth prepares for the dead of winter, I can't help but wonder if I will one day wake up to find that I am too soon old and too late wise.

The Dork at the Gym

Today I made a fool of myself on the treadmill at my school gym.

It was all stupid VH-1's fault.

My school gym is a TV-junky's paradise (which is the only reason I go) because every cardio machine is equipped with it's own personal TV screen and it has cable! All you have to do is plug your earphones into the jack and you're good to go. So there I was doing my usual walking at a snail's pace on the treadmill and watching VH1. They were showing "The 50 Most Awesomely Bad Music Videos," in which comedians mocked hit videos that are played in the background.

I snickered a little as they went through Meatloaf, Cisqo's Thong Song, JaRule, and JLo. "Don't be fooled by the rocks that she's got." one comedian quipped, "Be fooled by the Mercedes and the mansion and the furs, but heaven forbid you get fooled by the rocks."

But then they got to Nelly's song, Pimp Juice, and I completely lost it. One comedian said, "Unless there's a clinic nearby, nobody should be trying your pimp juice." Other comedians made "Eeew" faces. A black comedian said, "Pimp Jews? I don't want no Pimpin' Jews. And I don't want no Jewish Pimps either. What? Oh, Juice! You mean to drink? No way man!"

And at that point, I could not contain my laughter. I laughed so loud and hard and couldn't stop! But then I did something even dorkier, I tried to cover it up by ending my laugh with a coughing noise! So there I was, looking like a convulsing idiot, half laughing, half snorting, half coughing, and then laughing all over again cause the jokes about Nelly's pimp juice just kept coming.

All I can say is, you watch comedy at your own expense at the gym.

I Love Me!

Today's blog is dedicated to Aricelli.

She's a girl I never met, but I heard of her once many years ago (in 1999) and am still haunted by her memory to this day.

My friend Julia told me about her. Julia was Aricelli's roommate. Apparently, Aricelli was a narcissist par excellence. She had pictures of herself all over the dorm room walls and around her mirror, she decorated with mini-posters that said, "You're the best" or "Hottest Chick in the World" or whatever. (I may be exaggerating but not by much, believe me).

Julia said that every morning, Aricelli would wake up, kiss her image in the mirror and say, "You are so beautiful!" and other congratulatory adulations. And the strangest thing was, according to Julia, that Aricelli was not at all what our culture would deem "beautiful." She had jelly rolls, splotchy skin, and was only about 5 feet tall.

I have mixed feelings about Aricelli and her Monster Truck-sized self-esteem. On the one hand, she's like my hero! I wish I could be so full of myself so I would never have to feel inadequate all the time and in so many ways. Yet on the other hand, it's like, "Dude! Get a grip!"

But everytime I witness a beautiful girl express timidity about her looks, I think about Aricelli. How varied are the distributions of beauty and confidence. One often has almost nothing to do with the other.

Waaaaaaahhhhhh!

Sad. Cal just lost its game to USC. I had such high hopes for my alma mater. So much promise so quickly dashed. By the 2nd quarter you could already see the horrible end. No thanks to Ayoob, or should I say A-boob. If that useless quarterback could just learn how to pass we could've gotten our running game on! @#$&!

It's the most wonderful time of the year

It's almost Christmas again and you know what that means,
time to be more materialistic than usual!

Dear Santa,
I've been a very good girl this year and you probably want to reward me, as you do all nice children around the world. That being said,may I be so bold as to direct your donative intent in this direction...


You can buy those lovely babies here. Take my advice Sanata, forget making these in your Northpole workshop, internet shopping is the wave of the future.

Your oldest believer,
Christina

P.S. Oh yeah, and of course I also ask for Peace on Earth and Goodwill Towards Men and the end of poverty, blah blah blah... But if you get too busy to do all that, just the earrings will be fine.

Honestly

What would you do if you knew you could not fail?


I would sing.
I would have kids, gobs of them.
I would stop avoiding people.
I would throw lots of dinner parties.
And I would enter the Ms. Universe Pagent.
Oh, and run for president.

If Money Were No Object

What would you do if money were no object?

I hate this question. It always burns me.

Because.

If I had all the money in the world I would definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, not be doing what I'm doing now (i.e. going to law school).

When I was a senior in highschool my dad said to me (and he must've been on crack or something because this is so uncharacteristic of him):

Honey, you can do anything you want in life. Any dream you have, you can go for it.

And I said (mind you, this was my country music phase):
I want to be a cowgirl. I want to live 20 miles away from the nearest commercial establishment and tend my own livestock.

I certainly don't want that anymore. But I miss the feeling of possibility I had when my dad said those unrealistic words to me.

If money were no object I would never read cases. I would never read law review articles. Heck, I would never even read Time magazine articles. Well, let's get real, I would just never read, period. (Except novels for children).

What would I do?
I couldn't bear to write it.

(*Postscript: Little epiphany here. Upon further reflection, I actually don't think it's money keeping me away from pursuing my true loves. It's guilt. Being happy makes me feel guilty. Man, I need therapy.)