Oh, the One Girl Dance Parties.

Can I even tell you how many one girl dance parties I have had in the last two weeks?  No, I could not, because that would require me to count them, which I am totally incapable of doing.
And could I help it if my new song obsession is Rocketeer and that it is a good dancing song?  Also, is anyone else obsessed with Far East Movement?  Because I SO totally am.

Sometimes (like right now for instance), I stop and look at the things I say and I think, wow I sound like a prissy, annoying spoiled girl.  I promise I'm not.   Most of the time.

Does this post have a point?  No.

Am I just spouting words for the sake of procrastination?  Yes.             Very yes.

Reading Nat the Fat Rat makes me think it is normal to put a webcam pic of yourself in every post.  

Another story so that I can satiate my desire to not have a post of complete nonsensical babble:
Today was my last day of tutoring.
I have been tutoring a 12 year-old girl named LaShea for the past 8 weeks or so. (Her name is pronounced La-Shay).  Favorite phrases of LaShea include:

• Oh Lord.  Imma pray for you.  
• Don't make me get gangster on you.  
• Jersey Shore.  Now that's my show.  
• So .... do you have a boyfriend yet?

I worry about the generation of 12 year-olds that grew up on Jersey Shore as entertainment.  A lot.  

Once I asked LaShea what would happen if she did get gangsta on me.  She said it would involve her AK47. Then I asked if she knew what that was.  She had no clue.  I love America.  

In the two months that I spent knowing LaShea, she fell in love with me as a tutor.  My friends, this is a pretty big deal for me.  I'm not really the type that 12 y/o girls become best friends with.  In fact, I would say I am bad with adolescent girls in general, unless they are close enough to my age that I can treat them as an equal.  Maybe this means I can start adding girl names to the dozens of baby boy names floating around in my head.  

Not that I spend time thinking about baby names.  (But really, find me a Mormon girl in her 20s who does not think about baby names, and I will exchange her for a unicorn.)

Oh, the dance parties.  I mean, the 12 year olds.  I mean, the baby names?  .... let's stick with the dance parties.  

A little flirt never hurt.

Interwebz, meet the new guy who is staying in my room.  He's kind of huge and obnoxious, but I have to house him for the next few days.  His name is Frank:

As in, short for Frankenstein.  Because the lady at the PC repair place called him a monster.  

I'm actually growing quite fond of Frank, I held all 29.2 pounds of him in my arms across a street and up three flights of stairs, and we bonded because of it.  

Let me tell you the story of how Frank and I came to be roommates.  

Yesterday, my computer broke.  Out of nowhere. But luckily, it was just the screen that broke.  When I turn it on, it looks like this:

One stripe.  And I din't drop her or anything (my computer's name is Black Betty).  I love Betty and I would never do anything to hurt her.  

So after waiting overnight to see if something magical would happen, and waking up to realize that the computer fairy is not real, I decided to make phone calls to PC repair places close by.  

I ended up at Kangaroo Mobile for a free diagnostic of the problem with Betty.  Betty has a broken LCD screen.  Which they have to special order and then install, and it is NOT cheap.  

But you guys, it is finals week next week.  And I have to create a website by this Friday, and all of my files are sitting in Betty.  I need her.  This week especially, Betty is sooo important to me.  So I went to kangaroo mobile, and I played the girl.  I batted my eyes, I made extra eye contact, and I was smiley.  

And kangaroo mobile let me have Frank for free.  Yes, he is all mine until a new screen comes in the mail for Betty.  

The guy at kangaroo mobile even carried Frank to my car for me.  So either I am good at smiling, or kangaroo mobile has some good customer service.  As I made the quick drive back to campus, I thought about how things have a way of working out.  And then I had a one girl dance party to Rocketeer in my car to celebrate. (Note to self: that song is going to play REALLY loudly next time I turn on my car.)  

But f'realz.  It's good to be young.  

In other news ( and I know this is not a fashion blog and I am not about the fashion), what do you think of this outfit?

Too many colors?  I actually wore this today, except I wore flats that were more neutral.  But the yellow sweater and the blue shoes and the pink earrings?  I like the bright colorz, but I'm thinking this might be a little too redonk.  Also, over half of these items were obtained from my fashionista older sister.  

Oh and be tee dubs, what are you giving up for lent tomorrow?  I am giving up using my sister's netflix account and the soft serve ice cream that they have in the dining halls and most importantly, I am giving up needless worry. As in when you worry about things that you have no control over.  

In this corner: Weighing under an ounce, with a record of three buttons and a ripped seam...

The other night my big toe got in a fight with a needle.

A needle in the ground.  Why was there a needle in the ground?  I don't even sew.  It was sticking straight out of the ground, just looking for someone to fight.  That needle was malicious.
And my big toe, just minding it's own business, was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I bet you all have your predictions on who won this fight. I am proud to say that my toe came out champion.

Pics:

Two things are important about this picture: 1.  There is now an actual picture of my actual foot on the internet.  Hopefully the first and last.  2. I hate blood.  This is actually after I wiped most of it off.  And I didn't even freak out.  very much.

And the needle....

...was rendered completely useless.

My Big Toe, although a little bruised the next day, is still a useful part of my body, and thus I think it's the winner of this fight.

This post is part of the "me trying to turn everything into a little victory" part of my life.  It's been a rough couple of weeks, but I'm hoping that will turn around now.  Although the timing isn't great seeing as I have a week left of school before finals, notoriously the two worst weeks of any quarter.  

But at least my Big Toe came out champion, right?

Three.

"Genevieve, please tell me the significance of the number three for you right now.  Oh please, oh please, oh please."

Well interwebz, because you are basically begging me, I will tell you why this post is titled, "Three".

In the last month, I have made no less than 3 decisions late at night because I have wanted to make a change in my life.  Decisions that I thought, "What's keeping me from doing that?"  and then took the plunge and went for.

Decision Numero Uno:
Changing My Name.  Or at least changing the name that I use to refer to myself. The most permanent of the the three decisions.

Decision B:
Rearranging my room.  My room has undergone some pretty drastic changes in the last week or so.  I know without a reference the following pic doesn't really show change, but it does show how huge my room feels now.

And when your entire living situation is about 20 square feet, that feels pretty huge.  Also notice how my desk keeps me trapped against the wall.  I like it because it forces me to stay back there and do work, but I still have an entry/exit path.  I call it my Cave of Wonder.

and finally
Decision Number 3:
I cut my own bangs into straight across bangs.  The idea popped into my head at about 11:45, and after consulting my brother (who does so many crazy things to his hair that of course he was going to tell me to go for it), I did it.  The whole thing was over and done with (including me washing and then restyling my bangs) by about 12:30.  Pic on fb the next morning (social media addict, I know).

So why do I do it?

I don't know.  I used to be so the opposite of impulsive.  Plan plan plan, stan.  But now I think of all these things, and I think that there is nothing stopping me from doing them, and I just do them.  I take trips across the country and I take classes on web design and negotiation and ebonics, and I read about what life would be like managing a restaurant.  Maybe I still plan, but now I just plan to be impulsive.  Or, because it is impossible to plant to be impulsive, I plan to do things I want, just because I can and I think they'd be good for me.


Maybe I'll grow out of it, but hopefully I won't.