The airport is like my third home

I am currently waiting for my flight from the Seattle/Tacoma airport to the Long Beach airport to board. Just 10 more minutes left.

I have flown many, many times before, but this was the first time I actually felt prepared. I have learned to perfect packing my bags and figuring out my bus schedule, so that I time it that I arrive at the airport an hour before my flight boards. I have learned that checking a bag is unnecessary most of the time (and it costs money and I spend all of that on other things, like food and clothes). I didn't worry about a thing this time.

I think that me not being worried about a thing like traveling and feeling responsible is a good sign that I am capable of growing up. Turning 20 doesn't seem so scary anymore. It's just another year.

On another note, I am excited to go home. So excited. And I am tired. I would try to crawl under the bench I am sitting on and try to go to sleep, but gate A10 (I am pretty familiar with this gate) and I aren't that close yet. I mean we have only been on probably about 5 dates. Maybe next time I will, but I don't know what protocol is on things like this.

Update: Well, I just saw two people making out at my gate. And a little girl is putting chapstick on, but she wound it up so high that the whole stick was outside of it's plastic container. I thought that was really cute. The little girl and her chapstick. Not the couple making out. That's gross.

Suck on my 19 and a half pages of notes

I have spent many late nights in my school's 24-hour library with my amazing, glorious coffee that I could never live with out, despite my mother's efforts to get me to give it up. And I must say that today's has been the most productive. Except for right now. But we all need breaks.

I've taken 19 and a half pages of notes so far for my Human Sexuality (Yes, it is a class. A psychology class to be specific. I'm taking notes on urinary incontinence right now, and it's really reminding me of when I was in Kindergarten and how I peed my pants multiple times a week. And that is reminding me how I didn't learn how to spell my name until I was in pre-school. Sorry, I am really off topic right now. Time to focus) midterm, and I feel like I am going to own this test. In part because my focus has been near impeccable and in part because of haterz.

I don't like to deal with haterz. I'm a really emotional person and when I feel like some one insults me or judges me in anyway, I instantly feel like crying. And most of the time I do. Today was a very bad day.

I was studying with a friend earlier, and they kind of told me I was dumb, like, in a serious way. I hate being told I am incompetent in any way. I think it's mostly because I judge myself for being not as smart as other people, and it's cool when I do, but when ever anyone else does, it's like the apocalypse. My world is over. Reality sinks in and I hate myself, but I especially hate them. How dare they say something like that to me?! My level of intelligence is none of their business. And if it doesn't meet up to their expectations for me as a human being, then they can suck it! At least this is what my brain is telling me when it happens. So, the way I see it, I have two options. I completely give up, drop out of school and move home and work at a yogurt shop the rest of my life, or I kick some ass, get fan-fucking-tastic grades, and shove them in all the haterz faces.

I was just listening to Pandora, and an Ingrid Michaelson song came on called "Giving up" and she kept repeating "I am giving up" over and over again. It got me thinking. I'm not giving up. I will not give up. I am going to defy all the haterz because they are just trying to keep me down in life and that's just not cool. Go pick on someone else. You are wasting my time.

Sorry, this was so philosophical. I'm just in that mood. But I go home tomorrow, so I mean, that's really rad.

Soccer almost killed me

I played soccer for two years when I was in elementary school. My first year was in Kindergarten, and my second was in 2nd grade.

I remember absolutely despising soccer. Both times. I originally joined because my best friend Ali Boehler played, and my parents totally encouraged me being an athlete. And of course I thought that I was going to be God's gift to soccer. And I totally was not. At all. And here are the three reasons why:

1. Ali and I were not on the same team. I was so upset when I found out that I didn't get to play my first sport ever with my best friend. I mean come on! She was my best friend! I needed to be on her team. But, I wasn't and I never got my wish. I'm actually not sure why. It probably had something to do with the fact that Ali was a really thin girl that looked like she had an athletic future, and I was a chubby child that really probably had no future as an athlete (This actually didn't end up being true. I was pretty gifted at riding horses, an okay volleyball player, and a kind of talented, kind of cocky shot-put and discus thrower). We probably had try outs or something and she was probably waaaay better than me.

2. I hated running. I still hate running. With my whole soul. I have always found it very inconvenient. It's like walking (which is great; I love walking) but faster and you are out of breath after. It's not fun. And around this time, my sisters were both diagnosed with asthma. So obviously I thought I had asthma too. I remember there was one game that I was so out of breath that I made them take me out of the game and I made my parents give me my sister's inhaler. I was convinced that I was going to die. That was it. That's how my life was going to end. I was going to die on the side of a soccer field at the ripe young age of seven with my parents trying to save my life with an inhaler that I did not need. But really I was just out of shape and chubby and unable to run for long periods of time because I was out of shape and chubby.

3. It was boring. I thought soccer was so boring. They didn't let me play the position that I wanted to play (which was the coveted goalie position) and the position that I did play (maybe wing or something? Is that a position in soccer? I wouldn't know. I don't follow the sport), my coach told me that I had to stay on our end of the field the whole time and I had to keep the other team away from the goal. But that was so boring. The ball was always on the other team's side of the field and I was so bored of just standing there with nothing to do. So of course I had to entertain myself in some way. Sometimes I took up dancing on the field (please note that I am about as good of a dancer as a squirrel with an acorn stuck up it's butt). I would prance around because I didn't like just standing. It was more exciting to shake my groove thang. Other times, I would just sit down on the field. My coach did not like this one at all. He would yell at me to get up, but he just didn't get it! I was so bored and standing for too long hurt my body, at least that was how I felt. And plus, why would the field be full of three-leaf clovers if we couldn't look for ones with 4 leaves? That just seemed preposterous to me. I wanted a four-leaf clover so badly because I had never found one, and at seven years old, that was my life goal. I would search at recess, at the park, in the middle of soccer games; anywhere there were patches of clovers, you would find me on my hands and knees searching for that clover with 4 leaves on it. I needed that clover, but I never found one.

You might be wondering why I decided to play soccer for two years instead of just one. I hated soccer from the beginning. That's why I didn't play when I was in first grade. But when I was in second grade, all my friends were playing and I felt left out. But when I started playing again that year, I regretted it completely. That was the worst decision I made for my recreational life in elementary school.

Oh, and they also eventually let me play goalie. Once.

Yes, I am fully aware that it is 2 am, but I am not tired.

I am not tired, and this is a picture of my family.

It also happens to be a perfect depiction of our family dynamic.

My mother is on the left and she is cleaning me up. That's how it always is. She always thinks I am a mess. Which I am. There is a running joke in my family that I dress like a homeless person. Except it's not a joke. I dress like a homeless person. And my mom is always trying to clean me up. I try to stick with her efforts, but I am lazy. But I am so happy she tries so hard. It means a lot to me.

My older sister, Ashley, is in the center. We all look up to her a lot. We don't see her very often because she is all grown-up and on her own. Because she is all on her own and we don't see her very often, she's always kind of along for the ride.

My little sister, Chelsea, and my father are on the left. They are like two peas in a pod. They have the exact same sense of humor, and they look a lot alike. They are always off causing mischief and burping or whatever they do.

Sorry this one isn't so exciting. I was trying to fall asleep and feeling nostalgic because I get to see all of them this weekend to celebrate Easter and my twentieth birthday. And I just had an urge to post something.

I'll post something more entertaining later this week.

I'm not supposed to be a grown up

I am turning 20 years old. In 7 days. It's a very exciting thing to turn 20. You aren't a teenager anymore, but you are still young enough to make stupid decisions and break rules. (I have this mentality that all rules are meant to be broken, although that is very dumb and no one should actually think this way. Like seriously, if you live your life this way, you will probably die. And I am not saying this to scare you; it will actually, most definitely happen.) However, I am not excited for this day to come. I want to be a teenager forever; I kind of like having an excuse to be angsty.

And the angst thing isn't the real reason. That's just what I tell people to sound clever and funny.

I am immature. Sure I can handle being 1,000 miles away from my family 9 months out of the year. I can work full time over the summer when all my friends are going to the beach, because that is what I think I need to do (Okay this isn't that big of a deal, but I think it is. I mean I live is a place that virtually gets no sun, ever, and then when I go home over the summer to sunny Southern California, I want to go to the beach and see my friends and all that summer stuff that people do. But I choose to work full time at a yogurt and smoothie shop instead. At least I can make some pretty wicked smoothies. And I make money. That's really nice too). However, I am still immature.

And here is evidence:

I watch Nickelodeon. And Disney Channel. But mostly Nickelodeon. I wish I could say that I just watch it to try to relive my childhood every now and again, but no. I watch it every day. Because I actually like it. I love Spongebob Squarepants. And sure you could say, "But Meagan, you used to watch that when you were little. It's okay if you do. You are just reliving your childhood." But I already told you that I actually enjoy watch all of Nickelodeon, and sure I do watch shows on there that I used to watch as a child, like Spongebob and the Fairly Odd Parents, but I watch the new shows too. I often find myself watching iCarly, the show about a girl and her friends that have their own popular web-series. Some times I tell myself that I watch it because I think that Spencer, Carly's big brother, is really cute and funny (It's okay, he's not a teenager. He's like 31 in real life or something like that), kind of like a younger Jim Carrey. (I happen have a thing for tall, skinny, gangly men that happen to be hilarious. And Jim Carrey is a great example of that). But in reality, I actually like this show. It's funny, and cute, and I wish that my high school and middle school experiences would have been just like Carly's (I hated middle school and high school. Actually, middle school wasn't that bad. High school was the worst expereince of my life though).

I could explain the other shows on that channel, like Big Time Rush, and VICTORiOUS, but that is just too embarrassing to explain. At least iCarly is pretty popular among elementary school age children.

However, I have recently found myself watching and enjoying Sex and the City. I mean, that's a pretty grown up show right? You have 4, 30 year old women living in Manhattan that are all living their grown-up lives. And I want their lives! They are so grown-up and sophisticated. And they all dress well, something I have to learn how to do still (I wear yoga pants and sweat shirts waaaay too often, and I don't even do yoga).

I actually find myself relating to Carrie quite a bit though. Especially her relationships, but that's another blog post for another time.