Just Your Friendly Neighbourhood Future Decider

So all these thoughts about college kind of make me want to crawl inside a crayon box and live there for a million years and find Peter Pan and make him hunt down the Sorcerer’s Stone with me so I could have the Elixir of Life and be friggin immortal like Nicholas Flamel. Unfortunately, that isn’t happening, so today I had to consider my options of what I wanted to major in in college. Sadly this proved too much work for my brain and when I got to the list of majors, my brain went SCREW LOGICAL, I WANNA DO THAT CUZ I SAW IT ON CRIMINAL MINDS.

So I made a list of majors. Sad, right? Well, the list was pretty pathetic to begin with. It kind of went like this, with all the ideal shiny sparkly ludicrous stuff that probably won’t happen at the top.

IDEAL
1.Profiler/Law/Criminology

‘Nuff said.



2.Cinematology/ Film Producing

Because for some reason I think I’d be Indiana Jones.





3.Playwright/Screenwriter/Miraculously-my-book-turns-into-a-movie

Because that would just be AWESOME.





Unfortunately, I don’t think any of these are going to work out. As much as I’d like to show up at…well…wherever the crime scene investigator gods work out who gets to solve mysteries and stuff, I don’t think that’s what happens in real life. So basically I’m really only qualified and can really only focus on one thing: writing. And we all know what the future for that looks like.

REAL
`




Oh well. If I fail at that, I can send in my application to become a vampire (I got inspired watching one of the many previews for True Blue Vampire Gates Series Eclipse Diaries 3). Because really, they don’t need any real qualifications anymore, and the shows multiply like bunnies.

Emotions They Ain't No Good To Me

I am not good at emotions. I fail at change. Traits like these, paired with the fact that I also can’t do math or science, basically rule out all chances of me succeeding in the adult world. The thing with me and emotions is, they all happen at the wrong times. Either that, or I react strangely, or don’t react at all. I’m sooper emotional or else Spock-like in my stoicality. Let me demonstrate some typical emotions my brain can’t figure out.

1.Friends Dating/New Things
I tend to handle new relationships and things I don’t understand with nervous hysterical laughter. The higher and snortier it gets the more freaked out I am. Unless I am actually having a laugh attack---sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, both result from little to no sleep.







2.Sadness
It’s like a ninja. It sneaks up on you.
















3.Compliments
When I was younger especially, I used to think all compliments were clever insults and suspiciously avoided them and all compliment-givers as secretly clever mean people who really hated my pants.









4.Anger
I don’t know WHY I’m mad at you. I just am.














Well, that has been my handy guide to understanding my emotions. Unfortunately there are probably like three more emotions or reactions to situations I have so you'll have to understand those on your own. I would draw out more, but I'm all tired now so logically I should spend three more hours reading or drawing other stuff to combat my fail-logic at emotions.

FAILSAUCE McAWKWARDPANTS

Miking people is an unusually awkward job. There are so many choices of situations for the techie to make things awkward. There's a whole lot of bras and skin and face-poking and really tight man-pants involved. Then, there are situations that happen every day (and some that don't.) Usually there’s the whole ‘under-shirt’ conversation, which usually goes like this:

ME: Mmmkay now, this has to go under your shirt. (It has been this way now for seven days.)

ACTOR: **Blank stare**

ME: Um. Do you want to do this, or shall I?

ACTOR: Oh, let me. **Struggles, leaving poor techie to awkwardly stand there and occasionally brush shoulder of actor or randomly feel up mike box under shirt**

Of course, from here, there are two kinds of actors: The suave, usually younger, ones who can handle it all by themselves during costume changes, and then the older, helpless ones, whose skin I see entirely too much of. The women I’m okay with, because it’s women, and they’re easy to talk to and stuff, even when they randomly decide to take their shirt mostly off in front of an entire theatre. My brain basically goes, okay, bra. Okay, clip. Awesome. and then it’s done for the day and has a tea party, unless said actress is a little girl, which is another thing entirely. Then I feel like I’m assaulting them. This is not good for your self esteem.

But men. Jeez. This gender really does not work well with mikes. First of all, they’ve got icky skin. I’m sorry, but they just do. I really do not enjoy being the face-sweat bitch and carrying around alcohol swabs with which to attack faces with, which is awkward for both parties. Excuse me, but your glands are interfering with my mike…and then I feel bad because they look at me all condescendingly like, woman, when is it your place to be all up and wiping my face like I am a baby butt? Go back to your corner, foo’. Then I’ve got to tackle the tape-placement: Too close to eye, or on part of hair? Because surgical tape is fricking surgical tape, and it doesn’t want to stick to anything BUT hair, so basically I cringe internally while taping guys, because I’m gonna have to be the one to rip their whole sideburn off later.
Then there are the people that it’s just awkward to mike, even if they can handle their own mike box placement and everything. Like one certain person at a play I’m working: let’s just call him Gorgeous Man. Generally I don’t have to mike him, but the two times I have in the past two days, there have been some super witty conversations.

ME: **tape tape**

GM: **stares off into distance**

ME: Eww. Your hair is gross.

GM: Sorry, it’s just water.

**Silence**

ME: *thinking* There is no friggin’ way this is just water. What the hell is this??? It’s all sticky and gross….okay….not gonna say that out loud…but seriously. Is this bacon grease? Or lard or something? Do men still gel their hair with that? Or is that just in Kentucky? Why do you ruin your hair with bacon-lard, oh Gorgeous Man?

In the end I settled for, “Okay, you’re done.”

Returning to the helpless older ones, let me just tell you. I have a story that can only be played out in pictures, it was so…well. It played out like a bad movie.















…So yeah. Add that to Charlie dying on Lost (But being miraculously revived!!---but he still died, which was traumatizing) and I’m in hysterics. Add THAT to a conversation on man-nipples, some drawings of naked stick-figure ho’s, a lot of unnecessary tech love drama, and I start to wonder why I take this every day.