Letters to Inanimate Objects 2/25

Listening to A Hard Day's Night by the Beatles (this song is sort of my anthem right now)
Craving absolutely nothing. Which is weird. 
    I apologize for not writing my letters to inanimate objects last week. It was an insane weekend, let me tell you. By the time I would get off work, I just wanted to crawl into the backseat of my car and not move. Sleeping in the parking lot seemed like a great idea. Like hobos.
    But I digress. The letters!

Dear New(ish) Alarm Clock,

    I truly appreciate all your hard work. I hate mornings with all the burning passion of fire and brimstone, yet each morning you're as chipper as ever, just beepin' away. I'm glad you like your new post on the other side of my room. We both know how much it helps me get up. It would be cool if you could trip me when I try to crawl back into bed, though. Or squirt ice water at me when I press the snooze button. But no one's perfect, right? Which brings me to my one complaint. I know that you can play iPods. I've had two before my phone - Gertrude and Jedidiah - and you had no problems working with them. I know working with an iPhone is slightly different, but Bernard is a really great phone if you'd just give him a chance. Y'all worked great together last week. All of a sudden you aren't cooperating. That is simply unacceptable. Please work it out.

 Dear Gas Prices,

    Hey, would you mind coming down off your high horse?  I'd really love to get more than half a tank of gas for 20 bucks - I used to get three quarters just a month and a half ago. You're sucking me dry, here. Just because I need you to get around doesn't mean you can charge me an arm and a leg. Did you just hear all those idioms? Look what you do to me...

Dear Nose,

    Now, for the past 17-ish years of my life, you have never had allergies. We have never had to deal with this problem until now, and I will not tolerate it. You've been sneezing left and right, and the pollen hasn't even hit the fan yet. If you're going to get sick, get on it already so I can drug us up and get over it. Lingering in this sneezy, stuffy-ish, runny-ish, in-between stage is driving me bonkers. Step it up, would ya?


    Sincerely,
    Sarah Jane

P.S. My birthday is Sunday. Blog Five! ^5

Flighty Hair Trends

Humming Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson
Wondering why it is that my contacts and my eyes simply can't get along.
    So. I'm a bit bored with my hair. It needs to be trimmed, and my roots need to be dealt with. In short, it needs help. If you're wondering why on earth I'm telling you all this, bear with me. I have a point.
    I discovered a new-ish trend that seems to be surfacing for short moments during my internet browsings. Being the slightly strange person that I am, I'm all over it. It has been met with mixed emotions by the few people to whom I've mentioned it. Despite my sister telling me that it sounds stupid and looks weird, I have officially made my purchase, and as soon as it is delivered (and probably after I've had my hair done), I will be sporting one of the most intriguing new looks:

Feather hair extensions.

This picture is from Fine Featherheads. Definitely different, right?

     I honestly can't even remember where I saw them, or what gave me the idea that I might want to try them, but I'm completely fascinated. They can be washed, dried, and styled just like normal hair - even straightened and curled on low heat! They just seem like such an interesting idea, and I couldn't resist trying them out.
    I've looked online at Sally's Beauty Supply and a few others, but I can't seem to find them in stores. I'm pretty sure the only place to purchase them is online, but let me tell you - there are plenty of websites to find them. The typical price range seems to be between 15 and 20 dollars, but I've found a few for cheaper, particularly on Etsy.com (which happens to be my new love).
    They're normally sold in bundles of 5 or 7. I found a bundle of 8 for $12.99, with two micro link crimping beads, which is how you put them in your hair. The micro link crimping beads are lined with silicone on the inside so they don't damage your hair. Like hair extensions, they grow out with your hair, but when you take out the crimping bead and slide them off, you can reuse the feathers with a new crimping bead as long as you've cared for them well. They last from one to six months depending on how well you've cared form them.
    Most websites stress the fact that the feathers are "grade A" (like rating beef). They're talking about the birds the feathers have come from, because these are real feathers, most often from roosters. This sounds kind of gross, but they're thoroughly cleaned before they're sold of course. If they were synthetic, they couldn't be styled like hair. They come in a wide variety of colors - anywhere from a natural grizzly (which is what they call feathers with the v-pattern running down their length) to neon pink and purple - depending on the website from whom you purchase them.
    I chose to go with natural colors. I ordered mine off Etsy.com today, and the vendor sent me a message right away saying she was packaging and shipping them today, so they should be here within the next two weeks!
    P.S. Did you get the little joke I made in the title? Flighty? Feathers? Ha! I know, right...

A Coffee-Fueled Cleaning Frenzy

Listening to Hello Seattle (the remix) by Owl City

Drinking a mocha latte from Starbucks (which is actually pure happiness in a handy to-go cup)

    Brace yourselves. I cleaned my room.

    And my definition of clean has changed from "making a semi-clear path from the door to my bed that may or may not cause you to fall and break something" to "actually putting things away, clearing out all the trash, and making room to use my desk as an actual desk." Those of you who know me personally know what an extraordinary feat this is. Yes, I still have stacks of books all over my room - there are five on my dresser, two on my desk, one on my bedside table, and so many I don't feel like counting them all on my wire rack by the door, but personally I see nothing wrong with having more books than my bookshelf can hold. 

    In my future house, I intend to have numerous bookshelf-lined walls, completely full, and at least one shelf full of my own books. Or maybe just one room with bookshelves on every wall, and a big comfy chair for reading, an electric tea kettle, a desk by a window overlooking whatever fantastic view my future home surveys, with the most well-oiled spinny-chair in the history of home office furniture... 

    I digress. This post is not about my future home and rooms, it's about my current clean room, and the massive success I've had in organizing it. 

    So guess what I've got? Before and after photos, so you can share in my rejoicing! Indulge, dear reader:

First off...

 

 Then, I took on my desk and the rack beside it. I can't tell you how much crap I threw away. (Actually I can. There were three full-to-bursting kitchen-size trash bags.)

Next came the wire rack that's beside my door. 

Notice the alarm clock in the "after" photo. Now I have to get up and cross the room to turn the darn thing off!

Then came my bedside table...

I got rid of the old alarm clock which didn't match my room at all, and added a Reese's (which has since been eaten).

Last came my dresser, which I'm super proud of. 

Who knew I had so many different perfumes! I only really wear one of them.

I even put all my pretty pillows and the throw on my bed, just for this post. 

My bed will probably never look like this again.

 And all of this was fueled by my little friend, Mocha Latte (which is funny, because up until about two weeks ago, I hated coffee. Then my friend Emily made me a mocha at work, and I fell head over heels). I now know why no one seems to be able to function without coffee. I was also sort of irritated at the time, so the mix of coffee and frustration was the volatile kick in the butt I needed to totally dominate my room.

The love of my life.

Perhaps, with the help of coffee and irritation, I can pretend I'm a functional adult and actually get things done.

Letters to Inanimate Objects 2/12

Listening to Cruella DeVille from 101 Dalmatians (cause I'm that awesome)

Trying to destress - maybe some retail therapy?

    So. I've developed a habit of writing letters to things when I talk about them. I realize this sounds very strange, but it makes everyday conversation kind of funny and amusing. I occasionally write letters to people as well, normally when they're standing right beside me. But I digress.

    I've decided that once I week, I'll write a few letters to inanimate objects, or unspecified people, that sort of sum up my week. I half-stole this from my dear friend Hannah (who has a delightful blog here), and my friend Cassi, who wrote letters to inanimate objects in the midst of speaking to people before I made it cool. 

    Just kidding, it still isn't cool. But I'm going to do it anyways!

    Dear Toaster Oven,

Clearly there is some miscommunication going on in our relationship. I'm positive I told you to "Lightly Toast" my food, not char it. If there's something we need to discuss, by all means, bring it to the table... err, counter, but get it out in the open. This relationship isn't going to work if we both aren't completely clear with what we want. 

    Dear Mothers of Little Boys Who Cannot Aim,

This is an important skill for your child to learn. Not only will I refrain from trying to strangle your little bundle of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, but learning to aim and "hit the target" as it were will help the kid gain important motor skills for little league and the like. Don't just lock him in the stall alone, please, for my sake.

    Dear Dove Chocolates with Peanut Butter Inside,

I realize that eating an entire bag of you is going to make me exceedingly sick in the near future, but let's face it here. You're not doing anything to stop me. Maybe if all your little sayings and secrets on the wrappers didn't hint at something to the effect of eating another, we wouldn't be in this predicament. But they do and we are. I blame you. 

Love,
Sarah Jane

Why I Can't Be a Functional Adult

Listening to You and I by Ingrid Michaelson 
Wondering why I can't manage to make better use of my time





A functional adult I'll never be
This one fact I could almost guarantee.
The sound of my alarm on deafened ear
Grows louder every moment, more austere, 
Until, as Fate intends, I jolt awake, 
And wonder if a shower I could take
And still be timely to my morning class,
If bathing right away I should not pass.
While tardiness, I know, is impolite,
I fear if wandering eyes on me alight
Without a chance my hair and face to paint,
A simple glance may cause them to feel faint.
Unconscious students would cause more disrupt 
Than my belatedness, howe'er abrupt,
Instead of ugly-caused chaos create,
I'd rather shower and be slightly late.


Two reasons more that timely I'll not be
are due in part to time discrepancy,
For of the six clocks which each day I read,
Not two of them the same time are agreed. 
My bedside table clock's a minute slow, 
Meanwhile the stove top clock through time does blow.
The worst, perhaps, in terms of tardiness,
Would be how far my car's clock does digress,
For while it is four hours far behind, 
To be eight minutes fast it seems resigned. 
I also tend to underestimate 
The time from home to school to navigate,
As well as mastering the central deck,
For parking there is somehow still a wreck,
And though the signs to park or leave are clear,
I manage every time from them to veer.

Now, to end my temporal swings
From tardiness to missing things
A writer's life is one for which I'll wait
For each night spent with pen and ink
Would mean a day to sleep or think,
For on my own clock I'll operate.

And now, to procrastinate...