I’m getting my Wisdom Teeth removed tomorrow. As usual, my expert procrastinating results in disaster–I started noticing them three years ago. Make an appointment, get your bone sawed, and take off from your life for “x” amount of days–it doesn’t sound too difficult. In 2009 I tried to find three days when I wouldn’t die if I left society. Turns out there weren’t any. So no appointment.
I’m like a superhero. I should be famous, but I’m not. So I’m putting on the armor, taking up my shield and facing the neurosis head-on. I forgot the sword. Whenever you have a shield, you should have a sword. This is the neurosis I’m talking about.
Not one of us goes through life finding ourselves touched by its routine-ness. It’s the unconventional things that we really live for–the abnormal, the exceptional. This is about the people deemed “out of the ordinary,” how they surprise us, and why they may just be the most extraordinary.
We just don’t always get it right the first time. It’s human nature. When something happens, the little mechanisms in our brain try to interpret what we’re observing. Before we know it, an objective circumstance is being shoved through a cranial pathway down memory lane and comes out looking like a sepia-filtered cartoon strip instead of an accurate recording. And then we act on it.
Today I woke up with that feeling you get when you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself. Actually I get that a lot. I’ve read plenty of self-help books that promise to change your life so you never wake up feeling that way again, but they don’t seem to live up. Admittedly, I only read as far as I can before I get it’s time to transform your environment, and creating new life habits bolded all over the page. So I guess I should say that I’ve read the first four pages of a lot of self-help books.
At this point, I think it’s finally clear to me that I won’t be running for president. Apparently, it’s not a celebrity-position where you get to thank your lucky stars for missing the only point in four years when your castle loses power. One of the perks of being Barack Obama is the freedom to run for the high hills when disaster strikes. Our standards seem ridiculously high.
Growing up, I was invincible. I’m not sure whether I was the first immortal human or if adolescence brought out the worst in me. Dr. Mom coughed it up to my lack of a mature frontal lobe. Me, I’m not as a convinced.This is the story of a girl named Meils who fell off a car moving 15 mph…and lived.
As my good friend said of Madison elections, “It’s a choice between liberal and communist.” So I entered the pearly gates to the conservative’s paradise. Here, the streets are made of gold and the lawns sparkle with emeralds. Here, you need only chuck money at problems and they magically disappear. Here in Brookfield, my vote would count. And it did. At least for the local elections. But after vomiting on my ballot from the selected Republican candidates, I was confronted with inner conflict…we’re not being “Punk’d.” So I decided to make the best of it.
There’s something about the University of Wisconsin-Madison that puts it on the map. Compared with Harvard, the x-factor isn’t our academic prestige. And while usually placing near or in the top ten, we’re not the nation’s number one party school. But we rock at doing both simultaneously. And that’s why this student body may, in fact, be the most talented.