The Hobbit, and other feels

Yesterday was my final exam, and I would just like to point out that I NEVER HAVE TO TAKE ANOTHER MARKETING CLASS AGAIN THANK YOU JESUS. I am not playing, y'all. I hate marketing. I really do. It (the exam) wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be except for some tricky wording, I was a little harsh on my group critiques (more on that later, maybe), and now I'm finished.

But y'all know what was also yesterday? THE MIDNIGHT PREMIERE OF THE HOBBIT. I promise you, seeing The Hobbit was the only thing getting me through my Thursday. I went with my friends, Widge and Mo, and when I tell you that Widge and I have been waiting on this movie for 10 years I am not playing. Literally the best way to end exam week is seeing a movie you've been waiting to see for 10 years.

And it was so good! For the most part I was very pleased with the script. The book is like, 75 years old so there's really no such thing as spoiling it but I'll spare y'all a full review. Just know that Elrond is a sassy sassy Elf lord, their weave/wig technicians are the bomb[dot]com, and I have so many Thorin feels I don't even know what to do with them.

For real y'all. Thorin Oakenshield. I have lots of feels for him and his barely contained rage. I mean, I'm not gonna write any bad fanfics like I did in middle school but I'm not mad at anyone who does.

I'm probably going to see it at least two more times over Christmas break. Because I'm dedicated.

But we can we talk about The Lone Ranger movie and how they have Johnny Depp playing Tonto for just a second? Can we? Because that's that stuff I don't like. Y'all mean to tell me you couldn't find one Native American actor to play a Native American? You couldn't? In all of North America you couldn't find not a single, solitary Native American who is also an actor to play a Native American character. And you, Johnny Depp, couldn't have decided as a human being that it's probably not a good idea for you as a white man to paint your face up and speak broken English and, you know, act Indian? I can't with you. I 100% cannot with you right now, or probably ever again.

That has been bothering me since I saw the preview last night. I may or may not have said, "Why is Johnny Depp dressed up like a Native American?" in the theater. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Okay. That was my second. Not gonna lie: this may come back up later. You have been warned.

Finals are upon us!

Or, as my Belgian friends say, it's blocus!

I don't know why I'm using all these exclamation marks. I hate finals/blocus. There's this sense of satisfaction and anticipation because there's only one more week until Christmas Break starts, but at the same time you're filled with an impending sense of dread because, well, finals. I always panic around finals, because, well, finals, but this year I have the added stress of needing to maintain a 3.0 GPA or else get kicked out of school. This does not make me a happy camper.

Yesterday, I had a sorority function to sufficiently distract me from my graduate student responsibilities, but today I'm not so fortunate. So starting right now, I will be sitting around looking like this for the rest of the week:  

Nervous grimacing smile and a stats book. Well, the stats book will be gone after tomorrow. But you know what I mean.

Yes, I wear Santa hats when I'm at home. Where's your Christmas spirit?

So good luck to all you guys who have exams! I'm putting it in the universe that we will all make it out of this with 3.0 semester averages at the very least, because I don't know about y'all but I don't fancy getting booted out of grad school.

The Big Sleep

I think I may have found a fix for my sleeping problem.

If you've ever tried to wake me up, you know it's pretty much impossible because I'm the perfect opposite of an insomniac. I sleep through car rides. I've slept through tornadoes. I've slept through tree limbs covered in ice falling on my house. I've almost slept through every final exam I've ever had to take because I don't hear my alarm clocks, or I somehow turn them off without realizing it. Freshman year of college I spent the night at my friends' dorm just in case because theirs was closer to my sociology exam than my own dorm, and even then one of them had to wake me up. Senior year, I went home to have a nap before a Library Study Party with Nick and when I didn't answer any of his calls he came and got me himself. The list of examples goes ever on and on.

I am firmly of the opinion that when I go to sleep, I actually die for 8+ hours. It's kind of like Sleeping Beauty, except my "true love's kiss" is usually my mother standing in my doorway yelling my name. It's bad, yall.

So last night, I tried something new. I was actually looking for a low-intensity workout to add to my (non-existent) regimen, not a sleep-fix, when I finally clicked on some videos on the master list of YouTube workouts I posted to a friend's Facebook page. It was almost 1 AM, so I looked for something with "evening" in the title and came across two quick yoga routines. I did both of them, and this morning I popped straight up. I was even awake before 6:30; I'm just so unused to waking up on my own before 10:30 that I laid in bed confused and not knowing what else to do.

And now I'm sitting in Starbucks with a chai latte and a cheese bagel, wide eyed and bushy tailed (or bushy headed, as I washed my hair yesterday and it hasn't deflated) (more on deflating hair later, probably). It's Monday. This is crazy.

Obviously there is the possibility that this is a fluke, but obviously I'm going to keep testing it. What if I'm on to something here? Something that doesn't require medication, strange therapy, or experimental treatments? Do they even make drugs that work like Ambien but backwards? Do you know what I could do with an extra 3-5 hours in my day? Oh the possibilities. Oh the productivity! And it's exercise! I can wake up earlier and fit back into my clothes! There is no possible way that this could be horrible!

Unless, of course, I pull a muscle in my legs or tear a ligament or something. I'm not as flexible as I used to be, guys. Once upon a time, I could bend myself into a perfect circle. Not. Anymore. And if you're thinking that that's a bit extreme, you obviously don't know me. If anyone could find a way to tear important muscles and/or break bones doing yoga, it's me.

I'm just that talented.