Why I Hate Raisins

I have a confession to make.
I hate raisins.

I hate them, hate them, HATE them. Grapes are delicious; I eat them as often as I can. But something goes wrong once they shrivel and ferment into wrinkly alien pod creatures. Every time I see a raisin in my granola it makes me think I've found a dead bug. And that's off-putting, to say the least.

What is a raisin, anyway? As far as I can tell, it's an vacationing grape that didn't put on sunscreen and developed wrinkles. I like to throw these food-tourists at squirrels. Sometimes I throw them at my friends to start a fight.

It's not as though I've never seen a raisin before. My father eats them often, usually in cereal or yogurt. They are a standard snack for the children I babysit, and my friends often ate them in primary and secondary school.

I...didn't. For no apparent reason.

It's funny to think about, but there's another kind of cereal that I 'filter,' even if it's for a different reason. Since I don't want to be guilty of product placement, I shall call this cereal Brand X. Brand X cereal comes with little marshmallows in it; I pick these out, to my friend's eternal frustration.

I guess I just like to filter things. I pick the raisins out of trail mix; I pick the peanuts out of cans of mixed nuts. I color code my chocolate candies; I make concentric designs on my cakes. When given a random collection of items, I invariably sort them, by shape, color, size, taste, or unknown preference.

I discriminate against raisins in a negative way. I discriminate against my food. It shouldn't make me laugh, but it really does. I hate raisins. They are wrinkly bugs in my salty granola.

I guess the next question should be, why do I eat bug-filled, salty granola?
I have no idea, honestly. It's a habit I've mostly kicked. But not completely.

Let's add that to the list.
WolfGrrl

The Pack

Today I did not want to get out of bed.

I state this in the conspiratorial tone of a confession; I am somewhat ashamed of my inability to control my baser laziness. But, something told me when my alarm went off at 5:30 AM that it wasn't going to be a productive day.

So far, it hasn't been. I am feeling harried and chased, as though my responsibilities have grown teeth and a cruel inclination to follow me wherever I go. I attended my morning classes with a sense of discombobulation that has been elevated slightly by friends, the arrival of an unwelcome guest, and chocolate. The fact remains, however, that I have obligations that are now demanding my attention.

I hear you, yowling at me from my books, my computer, the silent walls of a judgmental library. I hear you. Fine. I'm on my way.

WolfGrrl

The Day Off

Having completed summer school (and the last math course I shall be required to take, fingers crossed), I decided to spend this Friday in...unusual form.

I am not a late sleeper. In fact, I don't think I've ever slept later than 10:00 in my life.
Ha. Yeah.

This morning, I wake up at 6 AM, talk to my boyfriend, and then go back to sleep until 11 AM.
My mother prods me out of bed with well-intentioned worry, I eat something vaguely food-like, and commence watching the best show in the history of television: BBC's Top Gear.

I also never thought that I'd be a fan - a true fan - of a British car show. So there you go. That's what this teacup human does on her day off. Sleep, vague-food-like substance, some water, some cake (quite a lot of cake, ok), and Top Gear.

WolfGrrl

Potter for President

Actually that should say "Granger for Gold!" 

Let me preface this post by stating that I am NOT the world's biggest fan of Harry Potter. Yes, I've read them. Some of them I enjoyed (number three will always have a soft spot in my heart, as it was the first one I ever read). I've watched the movies and written papers on the novels. I admire what J. K. Rowling has achieved. But I sincerely hope that I'm not one of those people who quote the Potterverse in everyday life. Ahem. Mother. Sister. 

I'm too young to be like my mother. And since I don't know my sister’s planet of origin, being like her is tough. 

It's course-planning time. Yes, despite being in the middle of midterms I dutifully went off to Academic Advising yesterday afternoon and planned out my schedule for the spring semester. It was no hardship; I always go to the same advisor and she's wonderful. We had a nice chat, discussed how I should not sit for my two language exams within the same four hour exam period, and then I came home to my room and planned out what I needed to take and when. 

Here's where I begin to quote Potter. Or rather, Hermione Granger.

You have to admire her; she knows where she's going in life. But she has magic on her side; most specifically, that bloody Time Turner. I want one. I am emerald with envy that she has one and I don’t. What a perfect solution! I would be so efficient I’d be in the Guinness Book of World Records: Teacup Human Graduates at 20; Teacup Human Becomes CEO of megacorporation; Teacup Human Becomes Benevolent Dictator of World…

Well, OK. The rest of the world is probably glad I don’t have a Time Turner. (Although I might have a career writing for the National Inquirer.) But really now, unless my brain exploded or I accidentally created a paradox I could, with a Time Turner, simultaneously be in the gym, in bed, in class, working in the library, and holding down a job. Whoo-hoo!

Something just occurred to me, and I’m afraid it’s punctured my excitement balloon. Does a Time Turner accelerate one’s life? If you do everything simultaneously, can you really enjoy anything? Can the brain be split into so many different scenarios or is it really a split-personality, multi-tasking-in-3D phenomenon? I have a hard time texting and walking, let alone doing seventeen different things at the same time. And what happens once you’ve done everything? What then?

In my lovely little utopia, Academic Advising would hand out Time Turners to teach us all time-management skills. The good students wouldn’t need them; the mediocre students would try them and become annoyed; and the bad students would slowly be weeded out because their heads exploded from trying to do everything. Or maybe the good and bad students would overlap.

Argh! See how frustrating this is? (And also how much I’m overthinking this process?) I think this goes under the list of things I should be grateful I don’t have to worry about, like cursing people, flying, and telepathy. I’m an ordinary teacup human with an oversized organizational bent. Can you imagine how annoying I’d be if I was full-sized and had a Time Turner?

Yes. Cringe from me. I will organize you to death. And that’s all by myself.

WolfGrrl